#usually that turns out fucked up but this is nice!

[deansbite]

✴ ( ᴗ ᴗ 　BACK STAGE SECRETS !

— CONTAINS 18+ mdni!!! | quickie | pwp | p in v | creampie ( kill me now ) | unprotected sex ( WRAP IT UP YOU FUCKIN' IDIOTS!!!!! ) | public sex | smut smut & more smut

PS > @floralscented @jasvtsc @frosttbitessam @deansbeer @beausling my baes who i think look forward to this. this is ass btw dont mind it its a blurb i wrote in like 30 or ish minutes

— SUMMARY jensen gets horny. ( thats quite literally it )

JENSENS hands travelled down your body. every curve and inch of your skin he could touch was beneath his fingertips. his lips finally came around and wrapped around the exposed skin of your shoulder. his hands went lower and finally settled on your hips. his fingers were curved just a little to get a better grip.

“jen..” you groaned under your breath. he let out a breathy chuckle which tickled the skin of your shoulder. he slowly let go of the area with his plump lips.

ever so gently his hand went up to bend you over the very table he had a conversation at with his co-stars. shit, maybe this was more arousing than you would’ve thought.

“y’sure you’ll be quiet?” he whispered, his bearded chin coming into contact with the very same spot he marked up, the spot that was imensely more sensitive. a whine escaped your lips. “guess not.” his free hand roamed upwards and being used as a gag for you.

“i have t’be on stage soon. can’t be found with my dick all nicely sat in ya can i now?” he asked, but the answer was obvious.

he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle the moan when he positioned himself properly to your entrance. he drove his hips forward. it was quick-paced but, you knew it was necessary. he let go of his lip and threw his head back, a breathy — yet quiet groan escaping his lips. he was way better at this than you.

because usually.. you needed more prep to get him to fit as well as he did. no matter how many times you’ve been together intimately, he was huge and split you in two.

but, slowly he increased his pace, his belt clanking ever so slightly in the silent room. your hips kept going back and then hitting the edge of the table, probably causing a couple bruises. but it didn’t matter because the pleasure was unbearable. you were sure if jensens hand wasn’t silencing you — you’d be screaming his fucking name.

he probably knew and took advantage of that, inasmuch as he plunged into you much faster and harder, too. “mmf — hmphgh.” you tried to babble outloud, just for you to forget jensens hand.

“i know, baby. just keep quiet f’me and y’can cum soon.” it was like he could read your fucking mind. but it wasn’t like you could give two fucks with jensen fucking you with his expeditious thrusts in and out. the sound of skin against skin finally registered into your mind — and the wet squelch of your pussy.

“oh, fuck” he moaned into your ear, his hips stuttering, his hand — the one that was busy bruising the shit out of your hip, went forward and his index pressed against your clit. causing more stimulation and more muffled nonsense that escaped you.

the coil that was already threatening to snap — did, and you thought you saw stars. as you came down from your high, you noticed the warm liquid that spilled into you drip down your inner thighs onto your underwear which was shoved down your legs just enough to get access to your cunt.

jensen pulled out, tucking himself back into his pants and fastened his belt. then he helped you get ready — grasping the waistband of your pants and pulling them up alongside your underwear.

once you turned around, still hazy with your activities before, jensen pressed his soft lips against yours, just for a second.

“i can’t wait t’ruin ya when we’re alone.” he winked just as he was called on stage, running his hand through his hair and heading toward the door connected to the stage.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 19

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! An unlikely flirtation turns into a dark obsession... Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw/involuntary captivity. credit to @sweetwolfcupcake for finding the perfect donaka pic for this chapter! 😘😘 all chapters

Nineteen. 十九

You enjoy the duration of the ride, all the way up to Causeway Bay. He pulls up to a towering building, one of so many on Gloucester Road. 

“What’s this?” you ask, craning your neck as you look upward. 

“I believe they're called skyscrapers…” he answers cheekily. 

“Haha. I mean what are we doing?”

“Yum cha, of course.”

Your stomach starts to rumble almost on cue at the mention of this Hong Kong lunch-time tradition of tea and dumplings. 

You're not sure why it surprises you when he passes the keys to a young valet at the door. 

 “Does it ever worry you, handing the keys over to a two-million dollar car?” you ask as you take his arm. 

“Not really,” he answers. “It’s insured, and they know there would be consequences, if there was an incident.” 

“Hmm. Isn’t there a huge market for stolen luxury cars on the mainland? Like, don’t the Triads put them on speedboats and whisk them away in the dead of night?” 

Donaka chuckles darkly down at you. 

“What a morbid imagination you have.” 

“I read it somewhere.”

“One of your dubious internet searches, no doubt,” he comments with a knowing smirk. “You really shouldn’t Google ‘how to get away with murder’ so cavalierly.” 

This makes you pause as you are stepping over an uneven crack in the sidewalk. You almost teeter over in your high platforms, and you might have fallen if not for his steadying hand upon you. 

You remember that thread of research–from a long time ago. 

“It was for a book.” How far back did his sleuthing on you go? 

“Sure it was. Not for the ex boyfriend who was heckling you?” 

There had been a time when one of your exes had spammed you with messages on Facebook, asking you to hang out again with the poorly disguised intention of resuming your relationship, as though he hadn’t cheated on you with another backpacker in a hostel in Kathmandu. Murder was a bit drastic, but after the time he gave you before the cheating, the gaslighting, the degradation, and the way he would yell at you for utterly inconsequential things, you wouldn't have shed a tear if he'd been mauled by monkeys and fell off a mountain. 

You realize that from now on you might as well assume Donaka has read every little detail of your online life, whether it was password protected or not. This doesn’t surprise you as much as it might have a month ago. In fact…you’re damn near resigned. 

Rather than push you off balance, as usual, this time you merely roll your eyes. “Afraid I made my personal FBI agent clutch his pearls?”

“Undoubtedly.” 

He smirks down at you, and you can tell by the glitter in his shark-black eyes that he is enjoying himself. 

“Does my search history make you nervous, Mr. Mark?” you tease, knowing the likelihood is zilch to nil. He pushes your hair behind your ear, before tilting your head up with just a touch too much force to be considered polite.

“If you were going to try to kill me, y/n, you would have done it by now.” 

You gape up at him, flummoxed as usual. Does this mean he thinks he’s worn you down…or do you dare hope…you’re finally safe? You grasp for this latter possibility with greedy hands before your higher brain slaps the foolish notion down. 

Surely this man is only fucking with you, the way he has been all along. 

You are not safe with him, that inner voice chides. 

Why do you find it so hard to listen to it lately?  

In the end, you have to ask. “Does that mean…you're going to be nice to me now?”

He snorts, ushering you inside with his hand utterly spanning the small of your back. He doesn’t answer until the doors slide closed, and he crowds you into the wall with his big body, caging you with his arms on either side of you. Your treacherous heart leaps into your throat, torn as usual between fear and absolute immolation. He looks down at you with the sharp hunger of a wolf as he informs you, “You haven't even seen my mean side yet, sweetheart.”

Your mouth goes dry, and for some stupid reason you can’t tear your gaze away from his lips. 

You can only manage one pleading word past the tightness in your throat, your hand sliding over the hard plane of his chest, resting above his wicked heart. “Donaka…”

You don't really even know what you're asking him for? Mercy, or your final ruin?

The elevator dings at your floor. “Later.” He rights himself, taking your hand to lead you into the foyer of the restaurant. It’s a beautiful space, all dark high-polished wood and soft lighting. Backlit wooden screens bearing cutouts of undulating dragons and Chinese characters take up one wall. You wonder if it tells a story. The host addresses Donaka reverentially by name, and immediately ushers you to a table for two by the window. 

The view of the glittering blue bay below teeming with boats is breathtaking from this high up. 

If you knew nothing about Hong Kong, just looked at the teeny tiny green island on a map in relation to the mainland, and then to the whole world…it would seem hard to fathom what all the fuss is about. But there is a special magic to this place that you maybe sensed all along, yet had no hope of truly understanding, and you realize you still don’t. You wonder if that will ever change, or if this place will forever remain a dazzling mystery to you. 

“You like the view?”

 You simply nod, awed by the bustle below and your chic surroundings and the unlikely treat of being out in public with Donaka, you realize, for the very first time. Without thinking you find yourself reaching for his hand across the table, sliding your fingers into his. You feel him tense, as though you've actually done something to surprise him–or anger him.  You meet his eyes across the table, and for a split second you get the odd feeling that you aren't the only one who is uncertain.

It passes so quickly you are almost convinced you invented it. His long fingers wrap around yours possessively, the corner of his mouth pulled upwards. You can't tell if he's smirking at you, like you're the butt of a joke you don't understand– or if he's simply pleased. 

You’re not terribly proud of it, but it does not escape you that this man could show you a side of this city you never could have accessed before. Of course you always knew he was rich, but there is an upper echelon of of unfathomably wealthy people on this little island, and you’re beginning to suspect that Donaka might be one of them. 

Not for the first time you marvel that this handsome, well-connected man could have anyone in the world–and yet he’s chosen you. But then you tell yourself, also not for the first time, that he never could have gotten away with what he’s done to you, if he’d taken someone who mattered.

He watches you intently as you are thinking about all of this; you do not know what he reads in your expression. Before he can ask the waiter brings tea. Your hands separate on the tablecloth, and you feel the absence of his grasp keenly as though a chasm has opened between you. 

Annoyed with yourself, you dig your nails into your palm. 

The waiter sets down the tea tray, arranging the cups on the table, pouring for you both.  

Donaka chats with him genially in Cantonese, and you think about how morbidly fascinating it is to watch him interact with the public. He has such a commanding presence, and yet somehow he is always perfectly polite. You marvel at how people leap to please him. Do they have any inkling of the monster beneath the mask, or is it simply all charm? 

You catch a few words of their discussion, but most of it goes over your head. You presume he’s ordered for you both, after the waiter trots off for the kitchen. You find, in this instance…you don’t particularly mind. Would you have objected, once? Is he changing you? Or are you just surviving? You find you’re not particularly sure about any of these questions, and you dig your nails into your flesh even harder, as though trying to wake up from a dream. 

But this is no passing fancy of your sleeping brain. This is real, and you are living it–you have finally made it out of the house, and yet still, he has you. You realize it did not occur to you even once after the car stopped to make a run for it down the sidewalk, or solicit the help of a stranger on the street. 

Has he truly managed to train you? 

It’s not too late. 

You could make a scene, in this beautiful restaurant with its three Michelin stars. (You saw the proud plaque on the wall on the way in). But you look at the man sitting across from you, who is watching you extra intently now, as though he senses that you are a horse that has just remembered she does not require the bit–and you feel the truth settle over you.

You do not want to run.

You would rather sit here with him, and share a tasty meal like normal people, and hope that maybe things will turn around for you after all. 

You seek out his foot with yours, touching it lightly with your toe, and the question in his eyes seems to dissipate, at least for now. In fact, he looks downright pleased, and he tangles you up in his long legs under the table. He holds up his teacup in a silent toast, and gods help you, but you return the gesture and sip, the warm liquid sliding down your throat.

***

With an absolute feast of har gow and dim sum in bamboo steamer baskets filling the table, the two of you chow down. The table offers a taste of everything: succulent little dumplings filled with seasoned pork and shrimp, beef buns so delightful you could die. You even got to try bird’s nest soup for the first time, a delicacy that sounds strange to the Western palette, but something truly special. 

It’s the most full you’ve been in a long time, and you think Donaka might have to roll you out of the restaurant. Playfully you fight over the last dumpling with your chopsticks. He wins, of course, but he offers you the morsel expertly from across the table. You’re sure it’s not exactly good manners, but you cannot damper your utter delight for this sweet gesture from your usually so forbidding paramour.

“I think I’m going to pop,” you confess, winning his quiet mirth from across the table. 

“You liked?”

“Oh god.”

This only makes him chuckle more, and you know you are a ridiculous creature, but the sound is music to your ears. This pure delight makes him seem almost boyish, and you cannot stop yourself from gazing at him, wondering. 

“What were you like, when you were young?” you ask, seemingly out of the blue. 

He narrows his eyes at you, his brow furrowed, though you sense you have not actually displeased him. “Why do you ask?”

“I don't know,” you evade, setting down your chopsticks. “Maybe I wonder…if you were ever innocent.”

He lifts an eyebrow at this, and you shift in your chair, pressing your thighs together in an effort to relieve the sudden ache in your core. 

“Probably not,” he admits.

“Were you ever…happy?”

“Not like this,” he admits, and he could have pushed you out of your chair with a fingertip at that moment.

“What did you look like?”

This makes him laugh, and he too sits back in his chair, bracketing you with his long legs. “Younger, one assumes.”

“Do you have any pictures?”

“On me right now?”

You giggle, intoxicated in the moment. “No. Just in general.”

“I’m not a sentimental man, y/n. It’s not something I would keep around.”

You shrug, not sure if you believe him, deep down. You think that maybe he holds on to things in his way, more than he would like to admit. 

“Were you happy?” he counters.  “As a child?”

“Not often,” you answer immediately. “But then…I didn’t know anything different.”

“What about now?”

You close your eyes for a few long moments, and you realize the answer, crazy as it seems…is yes.

You nod, and the half smile he pays you is more than just triumph. The hunger in his eyes makes you squirm in your seat–yet there is also a certain warmth that you’re not entirely sure what to do with. 

In any other man, you would know exactly what it meant.

Donaka Mark, however…cannot be read so easily. You know it, deep down, even while a part of you dares to hope that maybe there is some genuine softer feeling in this man, just for you.     

“I have to use the restroom,” you say, gathering your ridiculous new purse on your forearm. It's a perfectly normal thing one does after a meal, but you incline your head at your keeper, waiting. He nods, and you go, walking towards the front of the restaurant. 

You can feel his eyes upon you as you walk away.

Yet after you do your business and step out you realize how close you are to the exit. You can see Donaka across the dining room, looking out the window over the water, seemingly not even paying attention to you. You think about how easy it could be, to just slip out of the restaurant unnoticed. Down the stairs, or even the elevator. Kick off these high-rise shoes and run. Make your way to the street, then your embassy. 

Maybe finally make your way home. 

You look again at the handsome man by the window waiting for you, and again you realize…you don't want to. 

If he will treat you well…you could be happy. You could be happy with that terrible rogue, and your new found family of Mei and Mrs. Wong and the other people of his household who have become your fast friends. Even Jason, who undoubtedly knows how you tried to trick him, still treats you kindly. You care for them all, and losing them would hurt in a way you find you’re not prepared to endure just now.  

He holds you hostage with kindness far more effectively than he ever did with fear. If he planned this day just to lull you into a false sense of security…he hit the mark dead on. 

Knowing very well that you could be a lamb returning meekly to the slaughter, you slowly walk back to the table with a strange ringing in your ears. As you take your seat you look upon Donaka with new eyes. 

You would have paid a king’s ransom in that moment, to know if any of this is real. 

Donaka inclines his head at you as you settle in, reaching out to possess your hand across the table with a greediness that surprises you. “So. What made you decide to come back, tou zai yee?”

Little rabbit indeed. 

You look out the window again, reluctant as ever to say it aloud.

He squeezes your hand in his, just this side of too hard. 

“I’ll have it here, or at home with you bent over my knee, bunny,” he assures you, his tone low and dangerous as the warning growl of a tiger. You see the eager gleam in his dark eyes, and you know he’ll be happy either way. 

Here he is, you think to yourself. The predator you knew lurked all along, beneath the genial facade.  

Still, you answer in your stubborn way, “Why make me say it? You already know.” 

You see it out the corner of your eye, when he smirks at you. “Do I? So I was right, you do have expensive taste.” 

This almost feels like a slap. You’re sure he knows it too, but you rise to the bait anyway, fighting to keep your voice low in this public arena. “Donaka, you could have taken me to a street stall on public transit, and I’d still be feeling this way.” 

“What way?” 

“Hoping against hope that this side of you is genuine. Because I like you a lot, when you’re sweet to me.” 

“Hmm. I think I’d bore you to tears, if I was always sweet to you.” 

“Try me.” 

This earns you genuine laughter; you covet it like a precious gem, knowing you’ll hoard it in your memory like a dragon guarding its treasure.  

“Is that all?” 

“No.” 

“I thought not.” 

You find yourself even more reluctant to admit the rest of the truth. It’s a fine blade you walk upon, confessing weakness to this man. It could lead to victory…or demise, with one tiny misstep. Yet like he knows, he waits, his dark eyes boring into you. 

“Go on, y/n. Finish your thought.” 

You make a small sound in the back of your throat that you know is no more threatening to this man than the posturing of a frustrated kitten. He squeezes you harder, and as ever, the strength in his hands never fails to make your insides flutter. 

“Mei…is like a sister I never had,” you admit. 

“You have two half-sisters.” 

“Yes. But they hate me, and I…don’t like them much either.”

He seems to consider this, which for this man, is about as close to surprise as you can get. 

“That girl means so much to you?” 

You nod, still looking out the window, hoping this explanation is enough. You’re afraid if you admit to him that his entire household has become precious to you, he will only use it against you. 

“Hmm. I suppose I can’t scold you for fraternizing with the help.”

You laugh shakily at that. Here you are, gone from housekeeper to kept woman–even if only as of today, somewhat according to your own will.

How the tables have turned. 

Donaka nods, as though mulling this over. It’s interesting to you, that this is the thing that seems to perplex him.

“Very well, y/n. Ready to go home?”

There is a lightness in his tone that emboldens you.

“No. I want more adventuring with you.”

He chuckles at you, his eyes shining like high-polished onyx. “Oh really? Someone thinks she's tai-tai already.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your Cantonese is abominable.” 

“I’m…working on it.” 

He snorts at that, only gently derisive. “Not hard enough. Ask your friend Mei, next time you're gossiping when she should be working.” He says this with a little smile, and you decide he doesn't mind that you have a friend at home, or that you’re making demands to spend more time out with him. 

“Fine. I will.”

He lifts an eyebrow at you amusedly, and damn him for the thrill it gives you. 

“Very well. More adventuring. I know what you'll like.”

You can’t help but think that's been the problem all along.

[enbyfvcker]

[Through the phone]

Wade Wilson x Logan (worst!wolverine)

Word count: 1,4k

Summary/prompt: Logan isn't used to this technology thing, but he lets Wade gift him a phone to make him happy. Turns out he finds rather... enticing ways to use his new phone when Wade's away on a job and he's feeling extra needy.

Tags: Smut, established relationship, sub/dom undertones, soft!dom Wade, masturbation, praise kink, phone sex, Logan likes being talked through it.

Wade liked to drag Logan along with him for shopping like he usually does after receiving from his mercenary jobs. He liked spoiling his little kitty cat and buying him stuff.

Logan would say 'no' at first, but then Wade would insist and insist, and well, he was mostly bored anyway, so he eventually gives in. When it comes to Wade, Logan usually gives in.

They were both in their civvies: Logan wearing denim pants, a wife pleaser, and a flannel. All his clothes were bought by Wade after he moved in. He apparently seemed to know what Logan likes or not.

Wade was wearing a hoodie and with the hood over his head. Logan noticed that the merc still wasn't fully in his comfort zone when he went out in public without his suit because of his appearance. But he seemed to deal better with it - with all the stares - when Logan was there by his side.

Wade was strolling around with the cart filled with things (variating from cleaning products, towels, food, unicorm plushies...) while Logan follows behind him, his hands in his pockets.

Wade comes to a stop when they pass over the eletronics session, looking at all the mobiles on display.

"Hey, peanut?"

"Hm."

"You don't really have a phone, do you? Wanna pick one?" Wade asks with a grin.

"Why?"

"Well, isn't it inconvenient?"

"Not really... I can't think of a situation where I would need one. And I'm also not really good with... Technology and stuff."

"Oh, okay..." Wade pouts like a hurt child, and Logan rolls his eyes.

"What?"

"Well, what if you miss me one day when I'm out for a job and wanna talk to me? You could also always text Laura to check up on her sometimes." Wade suggests and gives a dramatic sigh. "But well, if you don't want it..."

Logan considers for a moment and grunts lowly as he walks to the phones on display and tries to pick one. Wade watches with sparkling eyes and a grin.

He didn't really know the difference between the damn things. There were so many models, so he just chose a random one and placed it in the cart.

"There."

"Yay! Can't wait to introduce you to the technology world. You might wanna stay away from Ao3, though... there's some pretty nasty stuff in there. I mean, I love 'em, don't get me wrong. But I don't think you'd be pleased with what our fans fantasize about us."

"The fuck are you talking about?" Logan asks with an raised eyebrow. He was used to Wade saying weird shit like that. Honestly, he should just stop trying to understand the guy.

"Nothing, princess! Let's check out, shall we?"

...

It took some teaching from Wade for Logan to understand how to use his new phone. He didn't really use it much, though. But Wade was right. It was nice being able to talk to Laura and hear about how she's doing more often. They would meet and hang out every couple week, but her life seemed pretty busy after she started college. So now they could always call each other to catch up.

Wade was also right about... Well, the other part.

Usually, Logan would come along with Wade to help with any missions, but sometimes Wade would just go alone.

It was dark outside already, and it has been some hours since Wade wasn't home. Times like that, when he’s bored and lonely, he craves a drink more than anything. It was really damn hard trying to stay sober.

He walks to Wade's room and lies on his stomach on the bed, grunting with a soft rumble on his chest.

He missed Wade.

God, he can't believe it.

The apartment was finally silent for once, and he missed Wade's stupid voice.

He feels ridiculous.

Logan sniffs on the pillows, smelling Wade's scent. He smelled like gun powder and strawberry lotion. He feels his cock harden at the scent and he groans with frustration, his cheeks a soft blush and his eyebrows furrowed. His fists clenches as he starts to rut slowly against he matress, feeling completely pathetic.

It wasn't enough.

He takes his phone from his pocket and turns on his back, dialing the third contact from alphabetic order from his list.

He only has 3:

Althea

Laura

Wade

It rings and rings, and Logan almost just cancels the call, but then he hears Wade's voice.

"Hi, peanut. Missing me already? I do, too, honey- Motherfucker! Have some manners, can't you see I'm on the phone!" Wade grunts in pain over the line after apparently taking a couple shots.

"Is this not a good time?" Logan asks with a low voice, his hand moving down his own abdomen.

"No, no, baby girl. I always have time for you." Logan feels his cock twitching at Wade's words, his breathing getting more elaborated. He could hear Wade grunting, probably in the middle of a fight. "Don't worry, as I soon as I wrap this up, I'm coming home to you, kitten."

Logan usually scowl and reprimanded Wade at the pet names he usually uses, but Wade could hear softs gasps over the line so quietly he almost misses it, and if he had any eyebrows, they'd be raised.

"Don't take long." Logan whispers, his voice hoarse as he palms himself over his boxers.

"What are you doing?" Wade asks with a clear grin on his voice, and Logan hears a few shotguns and screams.

"Talking to you." Logan replies bluntly. He couldn't help but let out a soft moan when he slipped his hand under his underwear to touch himself properly. He gives a couple slow strokes, biting his lip strongly enough to draw blood.

"Nothing more?"

"No..."

"Oh, my little honey badger, you're a terrible liar." Wade accuses, making Logan's cheeks flush harder. "Are you that needy, hm? Kitty can't wait for me to get home?"

Wade doesn't receive a response, only desperate whimpers that were clearly escaping through bitten lips. He runs his katana through a couple of criminals and chuckles to himself.

"So cute, princess. You just needed to hear my voice, didn't you? I bet you must be dripping all over my bed right now. Bad boy... Gotta train you to learn and wait for me."

"Wade..." Logan grunts, his hand moving faster at a steady rhythm, his eyed shut tightly as he imagines it is Wade's scarred hands on him. He rubs his thumb over his tip and whines.

"It's okay, baby. I'll let it slide this time. Be a good kitty and make yourself feel good, yes? You sound so pretty."

Logan moans louder at the praise, his cock twitching and leaking pre cum into his fingers. He starts rutting his hips up, fucking his fist at a desperate pace.

"Keep talking..." Logan half begs half commands, making Wade smirk under his mask as he dodges from a chair that hit the wall behind him.

"You know, for someone who's always telling me to shut up, you sure sound quite desperate for it right now. I know you love it, kitten, even if you won't admit it. I know you love hearing me say how good you are for me, how pretty you look when you're all messy and pliant under me, how much of a good fucking boy you are..."

Logan straight up whimpers.

"Are you gonna be a good boy for me and make a mess all over yourself, baby?"

"Wannabegood, wannabegood, wannabegood..." Logan babbles between needy moans, and Wade knew he was close.

"I know you do, princess." Wade shots the last one of the criminals and they drop dead to the floor along with the others. "Cum for me."

"Wade, fuck-!" He whines as he spills all over his fist and stomach, his back arching off the bed. He strokes himself through the aftershocks, his moans turning into heavy pants as he catches his breath. He feels a rush of embarrassment as his mind clears off, but then he hears Wade praising him.

"Good kitty. Alright, I'm done here." Wade says as he looks to all the bodies around him. "I'm coming home, darling! I have a boner the size of a lighthouse right now. It's really hard focusing on fighting like this."

Logan chuckles, his breathing still heavy. "Just come home already."

[itsallmouthwashing]

Tulpar- Band AU, Character descriptions

I cannot draw- so have some written descriptions and tidbits about the members of Tulpar! I'm planning more bullet points tomorrow but contemplating how much I want to give away ;)

It's very late, I want to add more but I also want to get these OUT! I have much much more planned so don't worry all the details will come out

Bullet Points here

ANYA

Our goth bhaddie

Mid-short black hair, undyed (a NATURAL goth queen)

Usually with purple eyeshadow and black lipstick. Her makeup isnt too intricate, but sometimes she likes to do a classic goth look (white foundation, black EVERYWHERE, the works) when she’s feeling fancy. Later when their band goes much more hardcore, she rocks the look more often. It makes her feel powerful and confident on stage!

YES she has Doc Martens. NO she doesn't wear them. They make her FEET HURT!!!

Still likes jogging! Is that jog to the nearest Burger King? Sometimes! 

Her first tattoo is the one she gets with the crew when Tulpar gets signed :)

Has her ears and her bottom lip pierced. She plays with her lip piercing when she’s studying

She picked up bass at 12 

Does Daisuke’s and Curly’s makeup sometimes :)

Perfer’s purple nail polish :)

DAISUKE

I put in my Ghost Adventure’s AU that Dai would have dyed his hair pink or purple, so this barbie has pink hair :) He’s got a purple fringe :) Probably short-- think about base game Sims 4 short emo hair-- that one!

Loves to paint his and the crews nails, especially for concerts! It happens so often that it becomes ritual and start times will go over if they aren't finished in time. Daisuke WILL get this hand right and the fans WILL understand (they always do!)

Loves to pair undershirts with his collection of Hawaiian shirts. Of course, his pink hibiscus is a staple, but so is the mesh/fishnet unders he puts on when he starts to transition to an alternative style. 

picked up drums around 15, but got really focused on it and mastered them fairly quickly before they went pro

Prefers his nail polish to match with his shirt that day!

JIMMY

Does not have dyed hair either, but he likes to keep it long-ish. It hides his face better but also gets in the way when he doesn't want it to. 

Had a battle jacket, but the sleeves got damaged when he hosted a bonfire and he did not pay attention to the fucking bonfire. That's alright though, he turned into a battle vest!

Overall more of a grunge aesthetic/style

YES his crust pants are REAL stop ASKING HIM !! 

Songwriting has been a part of him since he was little. it was his way to vent, a way to cope, a way to be in control of the narrative

Didn't know when he was younger, but Jimmy has perfect pitch. When he figures this out, he boasts about it in his guitar classes

Buuuuuut it just means the other kids asked him to turn their guitars. That stopped very quickly after he smashed someone's guitar.

Picked up guitar when he was 8. His dad was going to throw it out, but little Jimmy insisted he keep it and that he would find someone who would buy it off of him. Maybe a teacher at school or something.

But instead go buying it from him, a teacher sits him down and teaches him how to play. He gets so lost in it, he begs the teacher to keep it here and teach him more after school. That teacher also teaches him how to write music!

Learns how to do makeup because he’s jealous of Anya- always touching his face so gently to fix his makeup. Quickly learns that all he can really do is his own eyeliner, and even then it’s mid

He’s trying though! (when Jimmy clams the fuck down he eventually goes to Anya and asks her to teach him. They have a nice bonding moment. (the worms demand more, so more there will be- here when I post)

Prefers black nail polish, demands he does it himself (Curly convinces him to let Dai do with Jimmy can't get his hands to stop shaking before a concert. Dai continues to do them after)

Bracelets and chains out the waazoo. When he warms up enough, he lets the band borrow some for shows. (Dai does attempt to actually steal one at some point. Jimmy breaks his nose over it (The worms have plans, you’ll find out why!)

Will! It! Boof! Welcome to Jimmy’s favorite game show! Can it be smoked? He’s fucking got it baybeeee!!

That is to say, he smokes cigarettes, vapes, weed, carts, dabs- yeah man. At least the things that wont get him in serious trouble with the law (at least… not for a little bit…) 

CURLY

The oldest of the group, beside Swansea when he makes his appearance. 

Mid-short blond hair, also undyed. He does get a perm sometimes. When Jimmy does missing, he has a full breakdown and dyes his hair black, but that's later that's later thatslaterthatdlater

Has snakebites and an eyebrow piercing 

Nipple piercings WHO SAID THAT 

When the band goes pro, Pony Express records demands the front man have a certain image because thats what’s hot with audiences and they need to bring in as much revenue as possible with their first album or they get dropped 

Picked up guitar freshman year of high school when he was accidentally enrolled in a guitar class. Some kid said he had perfect pitch, and Curly thought he would be the perfect person to ask about turning his guitar

Only he misunderstood. Though he asked him to tune it for him- Maybe he heard someone ask him about that earlier? He took the guitar with a smile, then smashed It to the ground like he was killing a bug.

The end of freshman year, just before the final for the class, some kid came up to him to tell him his instrument was out of tune. and that he could show him if he'd like. So he doesn't get bumped a letter grade, ya know?

The kid tunes it- just in time, because Grant's name was just called from the now empty class room.

Sophomore year, Curly is enrolled in a choir class, where he discovers his love and talent for singing. Sometimes when he does solos in the classroom, he feels someone watching him from the window in the door.

Prefers yellow nail polish! He loves the contrast of his nails against his outfit since he’s usually in all back 

Wears mostly suits. It's what his parents put him in growing up, so he has a ton and they just feel natural. Does it hurt when Jimmy convinces him to rip them up for a concert? Only a little ;-; Does it make the audience go wild? Only a lot :) 

Wears Jimmy’s chains way before the rest of Tulpar have access to them 

SWANSEA

Tulapr’s manager before and after they get signed with Pony Express Records. 

Usually wears a track suit or something, very casual around the crew. After they get signed though, hes always dressing in P.E records merch, ad later Tulpar merch when PER authorizes it!

Keeping his backstory mostly the same, his struggle with addiction does come into play with the story I have in mind 

Used to be really into the punk scene. If you loook really close, you can see the holes from his snakebites and brow bars. No one can see it, but he also used to have a septum piercing. 

He has a stash of his old clothes on the bus when Tulpar is tour-ready! He also becomes the resident seamstress if a costume rips or malfunctions :)

[moonstruckme]

Could you do a scenario of reader comforting sirus after he gets an injury while playing Quidditch and has to sit out a lot of games?

Thanks for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 701 words

Sirius hardly pauses his sulking to mutter a quiet, “thanks,” when you return with his hot cider. 

Remus scoffs. “Nice, Pads.” 

“What?” 

“You’re just so sweet to your girlfriend.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, sitting next to Sirius with a smile. “It’s his first match being barred from the pitch, I get it.” You fix your boyfriend with a look. “I won’t be patient forever, though.” 

Sirius looks genuinely contrite. “Sorry, baby.” You accept his apology kiss, but he scowls when a first year nearly trips on his cast. “Fuck, is this thing bloody invisible?” 

“Easy,” Remus cautions, though both he and you shoot stern looks at the first year. 

“Wanna turn sideways?” you offer. “I could hold it in my lap?” 

Sirius perks up some. “You gonna give me a foot massage, gorgeous?” 

“Merlin,” Remus mutters, scanning the student section for Lily. 

“I don’t really see how that would be possible…” You raise your eyebrows, smiling when Sirius half turns in his seat to plonk his injured leg in your lap. “I was thinking more like I could draw on it. Any tattoos you’ve been wanting on this leg?” 

Most of Gryffindor has already had a turn signing Sirius’ cast. It’s been on since the match last weekend, when a bad fall had broken Sirius’ leg badly enough that Pomfrey eventually had to send him out of the infirmary with skele-gro to heal what she couldn’t. It’ll be on for another couple weeks at least, and between you and James the white plaster is beginning to run out of space. 

“Hm.” Sirius leans over, considering. You’re glad the distraction is working. He’s been quiet and sullen all week because he’s had to miss quidditch training, and you’re sure his melancholy is twice as bad having to miss out on an actual match. “What about a dragon?”

“I could maybe do that.” You fish a marker out of your bag. “What sort of dragon?” 

Sirius’ mood sinks again when the match starts and the players fly out onto the pitch, but as it gets going and Gryffindor starts to score points, he gets into it. He roars with the rest of the crowd, picks up a chant about house pride, and, though he shouts a few obscenities at the beater filling in for him when a bludger gets too close to Bell, he still smiles when James points at him after scoring a goal. A real smile, bright and heart-fluttering. 

Near the end of the game, Sirius looks rather contented. He sips his second cup of cider while you draw daisies in between the other doodles on his cast. 

“They’d have more points if I were out there,” he says, rather mildly. 

Remus nearly snorts. “Yeah? How do you figure?” 

“I’d have sent a bludger towards Malfoy ages ago. There’s been lots of opportunities. Marlene’s holding her own, though,” he acknowledges. “And there are some advantages to being off the pitch for a little while.” 

You catch the syrupy quality to his voice, and turn to find him looking at you. You raise your eyebrows. “Do tell.” 

“Well, the cider, for one.” Sirius holds up his cup, as though that’s obvious. “Can’t usually have that during a match.” 

“Mm, you’re welcome.” 

“Did I not say thank you?” He leans over to nose at your neck. Remus respectfully looks back to the match. “Thank you, baby. Really. It’s great.” 

“I didn’t make it.” You grin at him. “What are the other things?” 

Sirius hums. “No early morning training. I get to have breakfast with my girl.” 

“No afternoon training on the weekends, either.” 

“Ah, see? You’re catching on.” 

“Don’t talk down to me,” you laugh. “You’re the one who’s been giving everyone the cold shoulder all week, Black.” 

“I know.” Sirius pulls his face from beneath your jaw. The playfulness is mostly gone from his expression, his eyes deep blue and full of apology. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to give anyone the cold shoulder, I just…” 

“It’s okay,” you say easily. You lean over, kissing the top of his head. “Really, I get it. You alright?” 

Sirius sighs, looking out over the pitch. “Yeah.” 

You rest your cheek on his hair. “Good.”

[burntheedges]

Bits and Baubles 🎄

Dieter Bravo x gn!reader | 2.8k | masterlist | ao3

summary: it was towards the end of the Christmas market season, and at first it seemed to be a market day like any other. That is, until the man in the green robe whirled into your life.

a/n: happy @dieterbravobrainrotclub Secret Santa, @whocaresstillthelouvre! I loved learning about your Christmas decor. I hope you enjoy learning about Dieter's! 😂 thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta and helping me figure out this idea!!

tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, suggestive and/or explicit Christmas ornaments, dildos, meet cute

...

You were working your stall, talking to a customer, when you caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. Dark hair and a lurid green robe flashed by, but he was gone before you finished packing up the ornament. By the time you looked around, he’d disappeared into the market.

A few minutes later you were putting out more stock when you saw him again. This time he was dashing through an open area between rows on your left. You got a better look, but it only inspired more questions than answers – he was wearing plaid pajama bottoms, an old t-shirt, that lurid green robe, all topped with messy curls and sunglasses. 

Whoever he was, he seemed to be in quite a hurry. He dashed from stall to stall, sometimes chatting briefly, sometimes running off before the vendor could even get a word in. 

You had to look away when another small group approached your stall, and you put the strange man out of your mind.

The market was going well for you. Like most years, it was popular and crowded, filled with people doing some last minute holiday shopping. The stalls had a wide variety of holiday decor, gifts, crafts, and more.

Your ornament stall – Bits and Baubles – usually made people do a double take. You had a wide selection of ornaments, from the typical shiny balls to funny jokes to a special annual one you made each year (and you loved that people had started collecting them). They were all handmade by you over the course of the year, including the non-holiday decor you didn’t usually bring to markets like this one.

The biggest draw, though, and the thing that made people look twice, was the adult selection at one end of your stall. These were also handmade, and usually drew a wide variety of reactions – laughs, raised eyebrows, offended huffs. But they were also your most popular items, especially the wooden vibrators (painted in shiny colors) and “double baubles.” You loved when someone let out a genuine laugh at the sight because they usually bought at least one.

The small group moved away (after a nice assortment of purchases) and you looked up to find the man in the green robe staring at your stall. He was standing about 15 feet away and seemed to be scanning your offerings from one end of the table to the other.

When his gaze reached the adult section, he froze. You wished you could see his eyes, but they were still hidden behind his sunglasses.

His jaw slowly dropped, gaze locked on your small display of vibrator ornaments. He started to move towards you and you realized he was walking straight towards the display.

When he reached you, he looked from the ornaments to you, and then back to the ornaments. He reached out with one gentle hand and brushed his fingers over the golden dildo ornament. A huge grin slowly took over his face.

“These are amazing,” he breathed, looking from the ornament to your face. “Did you make these?”

You grinned back at him. “I did!” You waved your hand around your stall. “I made all of these.”

His mouth made a little ‘o’ shape as he looked in surprise around your stall. “Shit,” he murmured, taking it all in. “That’s fucking amazing.” He turned back to the adult section, and turned the vibrator ornament display. “Do you have more like these?”

You tilted your head, surprised. There were about 30 ornaments on the display, and more of different kinds on the three next to it. “More than these?”

He nodded. “I need two hundred and fifty ornaments. And these are so perfect, I mean, I never expected to find anything like this!” He smiled again.

Your jaw dropped. “Two hundred and fifty?”

“Yep,” he agreed absently. He started poking through the neighboring displays, face full of delight. “So I’ll definitely take all of these and more.”

“Wait,” you said, head spinning. “All of these? What… what for?” You couldn’t believe it. That was… more than you expected to sell at the market, for sure.

He blinked, and seemed to realize he hadn’t explained well. “Oh! I’m having a party. A holiday party! I used to have them every year, but it’s been, um.” He grimaced. “Well anyway, it’s the first one in a while, and I need party favors. The party is famous for the party favors, or at least it was, before. We were decorating and getting set up and then oh, Dieter, where are the favors? And suddenly I realize I don’t have any. I forgot! Can you believe it?” He sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. “We’ve got a completely empty tree that is supposed to be covered in party favors. So I ran over here, hoping to find something. For tonight.” He gestured at the market around you, and you nodded, a bit stunned. “I think I looked at every stall in here. And then I saw you… your booth.” He grinned. “And these,” he pointed at the vibrators, and nudged a hot pink wand with his finger, “are perfect.”

You opened your mouth and closed it again. You still couldn’t believe he wanted to buy basically your entire stock. “Ok. Well, I’ve got about eighty out on the table, and I probably have enough to get to two-fifty. But they’re not here, I didn’t bring my entire stock.”

His brow furrowed. “Oh, is that alright? I really will buy them all.”

You nodded. It was late enough in the holiday season that you knew most of your regulars had already gotten what they wanted, anyway. “Of course. Let me pull up my inventory and I’ll get you a price.”

He waved his hand dismissively, and when he did his green robe fluttered around him. “Whatever number you find, double it. Wait, could you possibly deliver these? Tonight?”

Tonight? You considered. The market would be over in a couple of hours, and then you were planning to head home and get ready for a night out. Not one you were particularly looking forward to, but you’d bought the ticket ages ago to give yourself something to do the Saturday before Christmas. “Deliver where?”

He gave his address, and you realized he must have a massive house, judging by the neighborhood. But it wasn’t too far out of your way, so you nodded. “I can do that. What time is the party?”

His shoulders sagged in relief as he said, “8. So maybe you could come before, then, by 7?”

“Sure.” That should work for you. “Let me get you a price, and we can do half now, half tonight.”

He waved his arm again. “I’ll pay it all now. And go ahead and triple it, for the delivery.”

You hesitated with your hand on your computer. “Triple?”

He nodded, smiling. “And wait, can you box these three separately?” He pointed at the shiny gold dildo, the sparkly rainbow suggestive clam, and the bright purple double baubles. “I think I want these for myself. Oh, um, assuming there are enough, otherwise.”

You had already pulled up your inventory, so you nodded. “Of course. Here’s the price.” you angeled the screen towards him as you started to pack up his ornaments. 

By the time you looked up, he had added another zero to his payment. Your jaw dropped.

“You… you really don’t need to–”  you started, shocked. 

He just smiled at you. “Yes, I do.”

As you fought to keep your gaze from tracing his smile, you smiled back. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

He nodded again. “And please bring as many of your business cards as you can! Or something like it. I can’t wait to share these with everyone.” He grinned at your display. Suddenly he moved, so quickly it startled you as you were starting to box up all of your displays for him. He smacked his hand into his forehead. “I never introduced myself. What was I thinking? I’m Dieter.” He shoved his sunglasses into his hair and held out his hand to shake. You gripped it slowly, meeting his eyes for the first time and trying not to notice how cute he was. He held on with both hands as he shook it. “It’s so great to meet you, you have no idea! I have to go, though, before I get yelled at for taking too long.”

You smiled as you shook his hand and introduced yourself. “You too, Dieter. I’ll see you later.”

He turned to leave quickly after that, as much of a whirlwind on his way out of the market as he’d been while searching for favors.

…

At 7:00 pm sharp you pulled up to a large, gated house, a bit taken aback by its size. It was even bigger than you’d expected.

You were waved easily through the gate, and when you pulled up behind a catering van the front door flew open. Dieter stepped out, grinning, and you were suddenly glad your reaction to him was hidden by your tinted windows. 

Gone was the robe and pajama pants outfit from earlier. He was clearly dressed for the party in a black velvet suit and a deep green lace shirt that drew your eyes like a magnet. His hair was still messy, but it seemed purposeful this time. He’d been attractive, of course, earlier at the market, and now somehow he was cute and devastating. And he was smiling at you like you were the best thing he’d ever seen. 

“You made it!” He said, hopping down his front steps. You smiled at him as you stepped out of your car, nervously adjusting your outfit. You were dressed up, too, for the show later. It was one of your favorite outfits, one that made you feel hot and sexy and mysterious, and you felt your cheeks start to warm as he gave you a once over. When his eyes returned to yours, you were both smiling. “I’m so glad you’re here. But did you have plans? I’m sorry—“

You cut him off. “No, I was going to see a show downtown tonight, but it doesn’t start until later. And I’m not meeting anyone so there’s no rush.” You decidedly did not mention that you’d changed your outfit plan at the last minute. 

Dieter smiled again. “Ok, good. I mean, not that you’re going alone. Or maybe you prefer it that way! Just, I’m glad I’m not interrupting anything. Um,” he trailed off sheepishly.

You smiled again as you gestured towards the trunk of your car. “I’ve got everything ready for you. Should we take it in?”

He nodded, and soon you found yourself standing inside his foyer next to an absolutely massive tree. It was only decorated with lights. 

“This is the tree! I was hoping, that is… would you like to decorate it with me?” He looked at you hopefully. “I’ve been banished from the kitchen and told to take care of this, and I figure you’ll be amazing at it.”

You agreed, deciding not to examine your urge to stick around too closely. Dieter went and got you both a drink before you got started. 

It didn’t take long for you to realize that decorating a tree with Dieter was the most fun you’d had in a while. He giggled as he opened every single ornament, crowing over each one and praising your skill and ideas. By the time you’d gotten through the first box (of mostly dildos) your face felt hot and you could feel the hair on the back of your neck standing up from all the praise and close proximity. 

“Ok I think we spread those out pretty well,” you said, gesturing towards the dildo-covered tree. “Now we can spread out the double baubles, too, and then the others.” He nodded, giggling again, and you smiled back. 

“These are so ingenious,” he said, holding a double bauble and a shiny clam with a pearl in his hands. “Did you come up with the ideas yourself?”

You nodded, ducking your head a bit. “Some and some with friends. I have more ideas, too, that I’ll make someday.”

Dieter seemed to light up at the idea of more ornaments. “Will you tell me when you do? I want to buy them all!” He grinned as he hung a “jingle balls” ornament on the tree, a double bauble with bells attached. “I had no idea people even made ornaments like this.”

“I’m not the only one, for sure, but it’s definitely fun. They’re some of my best sellers.”

At that he seemed to wince, but he didn’t leave you to wonder why. “I didn’t buy them all, did I? Is that bad? Will people be mad?”

You smiled, a bit touched by his concern, and laid a hand on his forearm. The velvet of his coat was soft under your hand. “Well, first of all, you overpaid for them, so I can’t be mad at you. Second, I’ve still got a few more. And third, it’s so close to the holidays, most of my regulars have already gotten what they wanted. My shop isn't that big. There’s nothing to be worried about.” You winked at him and squeezed his arm, and watched with amusement as he flushed. “Besides, you already promised to tell everyone where they came from. What more could I ask?”

He grinned. “Of course! Everyone is going to love these, you’ll see.”

You kept chatting as you decorated the tree, learning that his party planner and best friend Leah had been the one to banish him from the kitchen (“she’s such a tyrant, I don’t know what I’d do without her”) and that it had been about five years since he last hosted his famous party (“my life was pretty different, then, so this is kind of a triumphant return and a new start”). He waved his arm towards the living room as he said that, and you glanced over and did a double take. 

There was an Oscar sitting on his mantle. 

As you put it together, you wanted to kick yourself for how long it had taken you to do so. He was Dieter Bravo — that Dieter Bravo! The famous one! You could only blame your absolute obliviousness on how ludicrous it would have seemed a day ago that Dieter Bravo would buy out your entire adult ornament stock. 

Your mouth kept moving without conscious input from your brain. “Oh, you’re Dieter Bravo,” you blurted, and then winced as he stiffened. “Sorry, I’m an idiot, I just didn’t realize. I promise not to be weird about it.”

He tilted his head, considering you, and then started to smile incredulously. “My name was on the order,” he pointed out with a laugh. 

You winced again. “I know. I think I was too distracted by you to think about it.”

Dieter seemed to think about that for a moment and then stepped a little bit closer to you. “Distracted? By me?”

You nodded, just then realizing what that sounded like. “You, um... pulled your sunglasses up. When you told me your name.”

He grinned. “And I only forgot to tell you my name because I was so distracted by you, the cute ornament seller who grinned so wickedly when you told me about the dildos you make by hand.” He reached down to grab your hand and lightly teased at your fingers with his own. 

You felt your face start to heat again. “Cute? Me?”

He nodded. “And then you showed up here in that,” he gestured at your outfit, “and I almost fell over in the driveway.”

You laced your fingers through his and squeezed. Your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Lace Shirt!”

Dieter laughed, unrepentant. “I was hoping you’d notice.” He squeezed your hand, looking suddenly shy. “I know you said you had plans, but do you want to stay for the party?” He looked at you with big, pleading eyes and you felt yourself start to melt. “I promise it’ll be fun. I’ll show you off, of course, but…” he trailed off and tugged you closer. “I think I’d like to keep getting to know you.”

You grinned. “I’d love to.” 

He lit up like the tree he was standing next to, and you felt warm all over at his obvious excitement. You quickly placed the last few ornaments before he dragged you down the hall to give you a tour. 

The party was, in fact, a great time. And so was the mistletoe you found yourself under with the host at the end of the night.

...

a/n: I hope you enjoyed it, Mallory!! 🧡🎄

[beef-brisket]

Charlie: Okay, that's fine- just... please, try and be a little nice to him, okay?

Adam: Okay, okay- shit... fine. I'll be fucking nicer...

He tensed up as Charlie hugged him tightly.

Charlie: Thank you, Adam... he's the only parent I've go left, I can't lose him...

Adam sighed and wrapped his arms around her.

Adam: I know, kid... I'll help him, okay? As much as I can.

Charlie nodded, her head resting just under his chest.

Charlie: T-Thank you, Adam.

-

Lucifer woke up tense and coughing. He felt like something was crawling up his throat, but after a few hacks, three petals came out of his mouth, landing next to him.

He could feel that Adam wasn't with him. As much as it hurt, he didn't blame him. Lucifer has left him more times than he could count. What was new was the hopeless feeling that filled him. That feeling that he wasn't good enough for Adam, he deserved to be alone.

Is this how Adam felt in Eden? Maybe worse, seeing as it was three people that left him. In the end, it was only Adam left. And now, it was only Lucifer.

He felt tears build up in his eyes, but he couldn't cry. He already felt the flowers crawling up his throat, cutting the sensitive flesh.

A click of the door made Lucifer look up, and he actually started crying when he saw Adam walk in- with food?

Adam: Hey, Lu- oh shit. Hey- bud, you're okay!

Adam put the tray of food down on his desk and quickly went over to Lucifer.

Lucifer: I-I thought you left- I-I'm so sorry, Adam- for l-leaving you- e-every time- I've failed you-.

Lucifer started coughing. Adam quickly helped him sit up and started rubbing his back.

Adam didn't want to think about what Lucifer said and how much strain he had in his voice. He didn't want Lucifer wasting his breath on him. Not if it'll cause him pain.

Adam: It's okay, Lu. Just... just try and breathe, okay?

Lucifer nodded and slowly started to calm his breathing. It was so much easier while Adam was here.

Adam: ...I'm sorry, too. I've done... horrible shit. You didn't deserve it. Not you or Charlie. I let my bullshit become everyone else's problem, and that's not fair. On any of you. So, I want to help you, okay? I won't... I won't pressure you to tell me who they are or anything. But I want to make you comfortable, okay? And... and maybe... fix you, completely... at some point.

Lucifer weakly smiled as Adam talked. It was strange hearing Adam so calm and caring, but he savored it. His heart even fluttered as Adam brought over the food he came in with.

Adam: It's just soup, I though it would go down easy, you know?

Lucifer: Thank you, Adam.

Adam smiled: Don't mention it.

Lucifers heart fluttered again as Adam started to feed him. He even wiped the corners of his mouth when he needed to.

Adam broke off a few small chunks of buttered bread and gave them to Lucifer. This was the first full meal Lucifer had in days. Everything was so hard to eat.

Adam: There. I don't usually make soup, so I hope it wasn't too shit.

Lucifer smiled and leaned back against the pillows.

Lucifer: It was perfect.

Adam smiled back: Okay, that's good. I'll uh... do you want a bath? Or something? You've been in bed for a while.

Lucifer blushed: W-Will you help?

Adam blushed as well, and he cursed himself for it.

Adam: If you want me to- if you're comfortable with it.

Lucifer: I am.

Adam: Alright, Luci. I'll get it started for you.

Lucifer's heart fluttered at the nickname, something he hadn't heard for a long time. He watched as Adam walked to bathroom and turned the baths tap on.

Adam: I'll open the window for you, try and get the steam out.

Lucifer: Thank you, Adam.

He smiled hearing Adam move around the bathroom. Lucifer was able to breathe easier, knowing Adam definitely cared for him. Maybe Adam doesn't hate him as much as he thinks he does.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 @fanofstuff01

Hanahaki Disease

The day of the failed extermination was the end of many things for Lucifer. The end of Heaven's terror, the end of his isolation, the end of the Exorcists, but most importantly, it was the end of the First Man.

He had his fun, taunting Adam for anything and everything, his weight, his wives, his attitude. He knew there was no way in Hell Adam would ever be able to beat him, let alone hurt him. But it was fun to rile him up, fucker did put his hands on his daughter. He deserved it.

Feeling Adam's mask break open under his fist was so incredibly satisfying, but not as much as feeling the bones in Adam's face crack and snap as he landed blow after blow. Just when he was about to do something horrific with his Hellfire, he felt a warm touch on his shoulder.

Looking up, he was met with the face of his daughter, begging him for mercy. Of course, Lucifer felt a teeny tiny weeeny bit bad when he saw how much golden blood covered Adam's face and clothes. But that feeling quickly left when he crawled out of that crater to spew more self-righteous bullshit.

After that, everything was a blur. The sudden silver blade sticking out of Adam's chest, to him falling, landing on the ground with a sickening crack. The tiny maid on his back, stabbing him over and over. And laughing while doing it.

Lucifer watched as an angel with one arm ran over to Adam and pulled him onto his back. Her begging was hard to listen to. It was affecting a deep part of him that was making him feel sympathy for the pathetic bastard. He couldn't have that.

So, he threw them out. Every single one of them. Forcing the army to leave their dead to be feasted on by the cannibals.

Lucifer helped his daughter rebuild. He even cooked some pancakes for everyone.

It wasn't until he was sure everyone at the hotel was asleep that he went out to check the carnage. At least, that's what he told himself. But it was a useless lie as he beelined for Adam's body.

Lucifer felt sick as he saw the state of it. Most of his stomach was gone, his limbs bitten down to the bone. But the most painful thing was his wings. They were broken, snapped, and torn apart. Eaten.

He was eaten.

Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, the man twitched. And groaned. A bubbling noise escaped his throat, golden blood running out of his mouth.

He's alive.

Lucifer knelt down, his hand hovering just above his chest. It was definitely raising and falling. It was very weak, but it was still happening.

That's when Adam said his final words.

Adam: ...h-hate... you...

Lucifer watched as his eyes became empty. No feeling or purpose behind them. No holy light.

The day of the failed extermination was the end of many things for Lucifer. The end of his old friend. The end of all the good memories he had from Eden. The end of his hope to repair things with Adam.

But, the day after the failed extermination was the start of many things for Lucifer. The start of seeing Adam's chest slowly start to raise again. The start of Adam's stay at the Hazbin Hotel. The start of Lucifer's own personal Hell. The start of hanahaki disease.

It started the first day Adam was at the hotel. The man looked broken and defeated. He didn't even argue with Charlie when she told him about what he'd need to do to stay here. And she wasn't holding back, and neither was Maggie.

She had her spare pressed into Adam's neck the whole time. But the light in his eyes was gone, the need to fight back. He was still healing and was quite the horrid sight, but even that didn't give him any mercy from the members or workers at the hotel.

He watched Adam limp his way to the room Charlie said was his. The whole time, he said nothing, even when Lucifer made a few small threats to his life of he tried anything.

Lucifer felt a tickle in his throat, and he coughed and cleared it.

Lucifer: Hm. Weird. Better not have caught anything form those fucking angels.

Little did Lucifer know that was the start of something truly horrible.

[haifoct]

Xiao Zhuo, Li Lun, and Ying Lei adventures at Tianxiang Pavilion incoherent ramblings.

Anyways, I was rewatching FoF (as one does), and episode 21 — on a rewatch, when you know damn well Li Lun is possessing Bai Jiu's body — is hands down one of the funniest, pure comedy gold episodes that the series has to offer.

It's almost offensive how blatant they were about Bai Jiu being Li Lun here. Fashionista Li Lun woke up, and decided he's not going out in those EW clothes smelling of his cousins herbs. That vomit of every colour out there and a nest for hair are NOT sexy. All white for a dignified gentleman like himself.

They point out the change in his outfit, and we don't question it because Li Lun (despite people here claiming he doesn't understand humans) knows it would be a big deal for a teenage boy to visit a place like Tianxiang Pavilion. Dressing more maturely feels natural, and Li Lun gets to slay in all white yet again.

Li Lun: Must change. Li Lun: No one will notice. They will think this loser is excited, good plan.

Li Lun's face is priceless here. There are only two options: either Li Lun seeps through and is genuinely offended that this baby mountain god he remembers acts like this ("why crave attention from human? disgusting. ZHUO YICHEN LOOK AT ME"), or he understands the affections Bai Jiu holds for Xiao Zhuo-ge, acting his ass off even when no one is looking.

I like the first option as an explanation, because Li Lun DOES seep through quite often in this episode.

It looks fun, he said, like a fucking IDIOT.

"Oh shit."

"Shit. Did Zhuo Yichen notice? Shit shit shit shit."

And he continued to fuck up. Those were small details, but I genuinely couldn't stop laughing at his loser ass.

He tugged Xiao Zhuo's bells too hard, actually tugged Yichen back. His movements are harsher, stronger than Bai Jiu's. Bai Jiu tugs at Xiao Zhuo's sleeve or bells gently, and when it is in fact hard, it's usually Yichen trying to walk and Bai Jiu staying behind.

"FUCK. I tugged too hard." LI LUN, YOU DORK.

He tugged so hard Yichen's ribbon came undone. "I fix this. It will be alright it's part of my plan."

Unfortunately, ribbon does not stay put anymore.

Li Lun's honest reaction to this turn of events. No control over his face or strength whatsoever.

Ying Lei and Li Lun's moments have a very special place in my heart. They bounce off each other so nicely, and you can absolutely tell that Li Lun was having fun.

His shit eating grin. Sometimes I wonder if this is what Li Lun did when he was a baby.

Zhu Yan: Let's see human world! Li Lun: sure! Zhu Yan: Yaaaaay! Li Lun: Yaaaaaay! Zhu Yan, at the gates to the human world, turning to his bestie: Li Lun, this so exciting — Li Lun? Li Lun! Li Lun, back at Kunlun: snoozes, sunbathing.

Li Lun entered the pavilion as we know it, and saved his Ge, not forgetting to be a massive dork about it.

He once again pulled Xiao Zhuo real hard. Yichen went WOOOOOSH.

Well saved, Li Lun! Unfortunately, his precious Ge scolds him, but not without remembering to thank Li Lun for his hard work first.

I know for a fact that this was Li Lun seeping through yet again. "If it weren't for me, Zhuo Yichen!"

Yichen was utterly hilarious in that moment too. He took a moment to catch his breath, like being touched by a bunch of women was the worst nightmare he'd ever experienced. He's finally free, the worst day of his life. They're comedic duo we deserve, I will never shut up.

And I LOVE that Li Lun never forgets to hold his Ge by the...well, he does forget that he’s supposed to hold him by the bells, not Yichen’s fucking belt.

Xiao Zhuo: What the — ? Bai Jiu usually holds the bell, why is he holding the belt? *confused Zhuo Yichen noises*

Li Lun is such a DORK. They share one braincell for the three of them. One braincell dream team.

Previously, everyone ignored Ying Lei's attempts to high-five his friends, and isn’t it the cutest that Li Lun was the one to give him a high five? Although he was surely shocked to experience friendship: "*GASP* a high five from a friend?"

Well done, Li Lun! Thank you for your service, you little dork. I will never stop calling him that.

I just love the three of them together so much. It makes me happy that Li Lun got to experience what real friendship feels like, and these two were the perfect candidates to show him the light and welcome him into their home.

This episode is my comfort place now, a better world where they get to be friends and form a perfect one braincell dream team.

[firefly--bright]

hc request: snow angels with jean 🥹🩷

OOO HOHOHOH this is so CUTE im keeping this a modern au because thats what i prefer to write :') no gender/pronouns used for reader! :D

masterlist in pinned post! ❅ requests for headcanons are open!!!!! ❅ enter my taglist ❅

❅ ok ok so i imagine him being very begrudgingly into it. like its an incredibly snowy day right, and sasha connie and marco (and you, of course, by association) had dragged him out of bed.

❅ and his whole face is tinged a little red. he's wearing the first sweater he could find which just so happens to be the one his mom made for him, along with a big puffy black coat, a green checkered scarf and bright yellow gloves. not his first choice, fashion-wise, because all the colours are clashing, this looks fucking terrible, but you convince him it looks good enough to have fun and he has no choice but to agree.

❅ anyway. there's like small flakes of snow on his hair and at the corners of his eyes, and its a nice excuse for you to brush his hair with your hand. his nose is red. his lips are a little chapped and everytime he breaths it creates a small puff of air as a proof of his living. and hes building a snowman, with whatever materials all of you could find outside. no you dont have a carrot, who has the foresight for that? you make an executive decision to stick a very thin stick into the centre of the big snowball for his nose. jean complains about your art direction but gets distracted by the fact that connie's building boobs for it.

❅ every picture marco takes, jean is in the corner just standing. arms to his side. like slenderman. no smile. no pose. he's acting as though he hates this which pisses connie off just enough for him to fuck with jean more than usual.

❅ goes without saying but connie starts a snowball fight. and jean being ever-competitive HAS to strike back and now its a whole war but its mainly just jean and connie shouting at eachother while throwing poorly-formed balls of snow at eachother with terrible aim

❅ BACK TO THE MAIN POINT. during this whole. fight. both of them get really tired but now jean is fully smiling, because he's having fun, dammit, and you marco and sasha had gone inside somewhere during their feud to make hot chocolate and warm up some cookies because none of you had had anything to eat yet

❅ and connie immdieately runs inside the house when he hears you guys calling the both of them for food. and jean's all "HA YOU LOSER I WON. FUCK YOU. YOU THINK U COULD CHALLENGE ME?" but he doesnt follow connie inside

❅ and after a few minutes you decide to go out looking for him. his back is facing yours, and his foot is moving over the snow, creating a shape you cant really see. and you call out for him, and he just turns and waves you over to him

❅ turns out he was drawing both your initials in a heart with his foot :( and you HAVE to tease him. obviously.

❅ "youre so sappy i love you." "sappy? im doing the bare fucking minimum," "right." "youre the sappy one. making me hot chocolate and shit." "i made everyone hot chocolate. youre not special." "youre saying this after i made this artwork for you?" he says, smirk on his pink lips, faux offence twisted into his eyebrows and his arm finds it's way across your waist. "sorry, youre right. we should get this framed." "you think youre so smart, huh?" "you set a pretty low bar for it." "oh yeah?" and he starts fucknig tickling you because hes so fucking predictable, right, and you obviously end up loosing your already fragile balance and falling on your back into the snow.

❅ at first he's really apologetic but then he sees you smiling and rolls his eyes before collapsing next to you, cold ice pinpricking his skin despite the layers he wears.

❅ "you destroyed the heart i drew," he says. he wants to win this fake-fight. dumbass. "thats your fault." "right, blame me for your misjudgement-" "you tickled me!" "excuses, excuses." "im sorry, jean, for destroying your heart-" "my beautiful artwork," "- your beautiful artwork that deserved to be framed." "in a shrine. add that part." "no."

❅ its so cliche. he looks at you, his head turned to your direction, and sees your own breath fog up the sky and he thinks hiding his affection is reduntant because youre going to find a way to sneak it out of him somehow.

❅ and then you stretch out your arms, indenting the snow, waving them up and down. "im making new artwork." you say, and he loves you so much it makes him warm all over, imitating your motions with his long ass limbs, sounds of the snow crunching under his movements filling his ears along with your soft laughter.

❅ and after youre satisfied with the unseen outcome of your work, he complains about not being able to feel the tips of his ears and nose, and he helps you get up. you kiss his nose as compensation, and he kisses your forehead in return. "happy?" he asks, and you hum.

❅ "wait, we have to sign our names," you say before crouching down and writing your name under your snow angel, and then write his name under his, creating a heart after his name. he smiles softly after youre done, winding an arm around your shoulder to keep you warm but pretends its because "im so weak and hungry," to which you call him a drama queen. he spares a look behind the two of you to see the snow angels and cant help but wish it would never melt away.

also heres a moodboard. i couldnt help myself.

thank you for the request!! ive never. experienced snow before so im sorry for. any inaccuracies im going based off of my rom-com watching knowledge :') hope you liked it!! <3

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic-again , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable , @candleohappiness , @zombiefiedskeivy

[k3nz1ekorn]

Jayvik actor au- first meeting

There’s a new show airing based on the popular video game League of Legends! Filming has just started and while it’s the first day on set, it’s also the first meeting of costars Joel and Vlad, set to play Jayce and Viktor. 

DIsclaimer: obviously I do not own the game League of Legends or any of the characters. Because this is an au some of them are going to be very out of character but this entire au is self indulgent for me so idrc. Hope you enjoy tho! also I have no idea how acting or set lots work and I have no intention of looking those specifics up for this, if that bothers you feel free to correct any inaccuracies in a comment!

Vlad was nervous to say the least. It wasn’t as if he was an inexperienced actor, just that this was a pretty big role for him. Big budget, some big names, a huge video game company, and he got to play one of the main male roles? Yeah no he definitely didn’t want to fuck this one up. He took a breath before opening the car door and stepping out onto the pavement, the frigid air surrounding him was a strong contrast to the heated car he’d just been in. He should definitely find his trailer fast, his knee did not like the cold. He slung his bag over his shoulder with ease and grabbed his cane out of the car with his opposite hand before shutting the door and starting down the path to the lot, 24B it was? Everything was busy, he noted, costumes and mechanical equipment moving around him this way and that. His head was almost on a constant swivel to make sure nobody was about to knock him off his feet, ducking and weaving here or there to make sure the stray props and cart wheels didn’t take him out. He was actually quit good at it all things considered.

“Coming through, heavy equipment!” He heard from his right, and it seemed as if he spoke a bit too soon. His efforts seemed to be in vain because as the cart had almost passed him, the wheel went over a rock and the boom mic jostled. Just enough in fact to blindside him with a bop right on the forehead. He stumbled backward for a second before a pair of very large hands were steadying him. He groaned lightly for a second before blinking a few times. A broad chest was in front of him when his eyes regained focus, squinting in confusion he looked to the hand on his arm, before following it up to find- Oh. Oh wow. 

“You alright there?” He was broken out of his very minor trance by the new voice, deep and gravely. He blinked a few more times before letting out a cough, taking a small step away, and responding.

“YES! Yes I’m fine, thank you for the concern though.” He gave a chuckle and a small smile as he finished readjusting his bag. He took a moment to look over this new person, and yes his initial observation was oh so correct. He was so very good looking. Vlad preferred his men a bit more rugged truth be told, usually a beard or longer hair, but all things considered this stranger was striking. He started to move to introduce himself when the man spoke again.

“Good, I’ll be on my way then. ‘Scuse me.” He gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and slipped past him. Vlad turned to watch him walk away for a moment before giving a small huff. Not even a name to put to a face, huh. With a shake of his head he carefully continued on.

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After arriving at his destination and getting settled into his trailer it was time to get down to business. Hair and makeup flew by in a breeze with the help of a quick coffee, and costumes had been fitted to perfection previously. He admitted he looked quite good in this one, the lace up sides of the vest did wonders for his already nice figure. With one more look in the mirror he gave himself a nod and picked up his script and cane before descending the custom ramp out of his trailer. Immediately he was met with his assistant, Skylar. She handed him his second coffee of the day and he adjusted so he was holding it in the same hand as his smaller copy of the script. They settled into a comfortable pace as they made their way towards the set. She went over a few key notes on the way there.

“So your first scene today is set in the aftermath of when the character Jayce’s apartment blew up, you’re almost grilling him on why, how, yada yada, asking questions, being snarky, etc. okay? Should be fairly easy for you. Your counterpart for this scene is Joel Torres, he’s already on set. He filmed a few other scenes already today so he’s already all warmed up and ready to jump into it.” She seemed almost anxious? Exasperated? It was hard to tell with her sometimes. “Other staff have said he’s a bit…cold? Just don’t take it personally if he doesn’t take to you immediately, is what I’m getting at, mmkay?” Vlad scoffed a bit at that. He never took it personally when people didn’t like him, if they were coworkers he did like to be cordial at least. It was just better for the production and flow of things that way. 

“That will not be a problem, I am a professional in the art of not speaking,” that definitely earned him a skeptical look, “and I’m caffeinated now, highly I might add, so whatever this Joel does or does not say is eh…water off the head? Is that the saying? It’s some kind of body part, yes?”

“Well yeah, but it’s-”

“Fantastic, onto the important issue, did you discuss what their potential relationship is building to with anyone on the production team? I know of my own interpretation, but this script it…leaves you guessing some, no?” He held up the papers before taking a sip of his overly sweet coffee and raising his eyebrow in question. She pulled her mouth into an almost grimace and sucked in through her teeth.

“So I did ask, and they said it was meant to end up brotherly almost? Like by the end of the season?” she shot him a sideways glance as she mirrored his movement to drink from her own cup. “If you’re able you can always talk to Mr. Torres and discuss how you both would want to portray the relationship.” Vlad gave a hum in response as they continued on their way. A bright head of pink hair came into view as they got closer. It was a shorter girl, probably one of the female leads? She was leaning on a table with a donut in one hand. In front of her stood a taller woman with deep blue hair, immediately he was able to recognize her as Cathrin Kristy. The shorter one caught his gaze and gave a small wave and a smile, with her mouth full of course. Cathrin turned with a raised eyebrow before giving a polite smile and a nod in acknowledgement. Vlad copied the move to both of them before turning his attention back to Skylar to finish their briefing. The set came into view and he stopped at the edge of it to give everything a brief once over. He turned side to side a bit to fully take it in and get used to his new surroundings before stopping dead in his tracks and giving a slight smirk to himself.

Well hello again handsome. Sitting just a few feet away was the same man he bumped into not even two hours ago, clad in the same ‘Academy uniform’ as the costume department had called it. This must be Joel then, the cold demeanor he’d encountered earlier certainly fit the description Skylar had been telling him about. “One moment Sky, I’ll be back.” He heard her make some kind of annoyed confused sound as he walked away, right up to his new coworker. He appeared to be reading over the script, they were about to film a new scene after all so it made sense. He takes a moment to fully look at him as he approaches. Even under the uniform he can make out thick muscles, beautiful tanned skin on his clean shaven face and oh those hands. His hair was slicked back, not perfect though, an artistically styled messy to give the illusion of disarray while keeping the clean cut illusion the character had. As he’s just a few feet away the other man glances up at him, he squints his eyes a bit as if in confusion before recognition settles in and he lifts his head to acknowledge him. Vlad opens his mouth to speak before he stops, he’s not too far in front of the other but at a comfortable distance for a couple of strangers. He doesn’t plan to be strangers for much longer though. “Well hello again, quite a surprise to see you here. It seems our paths have crossed once again. I admit I didn’t mind the first, but this one is definitely preferred. I’m Vladamir, you may call me Vlad though if you’d like.” He reaches out a hand in front of him. His counterpart takes a glance down at his hand with a raised brow before setting down his script. He looks back up at Vlad’s eyes before taking his hand to give it one firm shake. Dear gods he’s strong…and those eyes- his train of thought is cut short as the other finally speaks. 

“Joel. Just Joel.” He retracts his hand and places it in his lap to intertwine his fingers with the other one. There’s silence as they just stare for a moment, and he thinks he may imagine Joel taking the time to give Vlad a once over, he really hopes he isn’t blushing too hard. Vlad brings his hand back to his side and tilts his head with a light smirk, as he opens his mouth to speak again a bell rings. They both turn their heads as they hear the director call them to places. Vlad gives a light hum before he turns back to Joel once more.

“I believe they need us on set then, shall we?” he doesn’t wait for an answer as he turns and walks to his place. He definitely doesn’t imagine it when he hears a deep exhale and the shuffling of papers behind him before any footsteps follow. 

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“What happened here?” Vlad gets into character easily, this is a fun one for him after all. He turned and gave a wave of his hand, his cane clicking on the ground with ease, it helped that it was fitted to actually be the right height for him.

“Science I guess?” ‘Jayce’ says. This character is very different from him, he could tell as much from the script alone. The actress for Grayson says their line easily, moving out of the way for ‘Viktor’ to approach. He furrows his brows as he turns back to ‘Jayce’ and continues with his line.

“Nor was this approved by the Academy. Who authorized your research?” He says pointedly, he takes care to not kick any of the prop debris as he makes his way over to the other, acting as if he hasn’t had the last twenty minutes to look over the set before they started shooting.

“It was an independent study. Who are you anyway?” he shoots back accusingly as he looks up at him.  Vlad has to force down the immediate urge to look back into his eyes, scrutinizing the blackboard for a moment more.

“I’m assistant to the dean of the Academy, who it may serve you to remember is also the head of the council.” With that he finally looks at ‘Jayce’ again, they lock eyes for a brief second and it almost feels like he stopped breathing. Almost. He is a great actor after all. He breaks eye contact to look back at the board and it feels easy to breathe again, “He sent me here to ensure that anything dangerous is removed safely.” More glancing at the room, anything really to avoid looking into those eyes again. “Which, according to my list, includes you.”

“What!?” More eye contact, it’s brief this time thank the gods. “How am I dangerous?”

“Uh, that is for the council to decide.” He holds the focus of those beautiful golden eyes for barely another second before looking at ‘Grayson’ as she drops the handcuffs into view. ‘Jayce’ hangs his head in defeat and then the shrill bell signals the end of the scene and he glances back at Joel, who had quickly gotten up to listen to feedback from the director. They make eye contact again and Joel raises a thick brow at him. Vlad quickly turns away to hide his blush and busies himself with going over his lines for the scene again with Skylar, making little notes for himself for the next take. This is going to be a long show for sure.

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A Bonus for this one:

When Joel gets back to his trailer for lunch he sits at the booth and lets a long sigh overtake him before he throws his head against the back of his seat. His hand covers his eyes before he pinches the bridge of his nose. All he can picture are those beautiful eyes looking back at him in nearly every scene he shot today. Letting his head drop forward again he removes his hand and glances down at the script. Nearly every scene with him huh? He lets out a defeated chuckle, yep. He’s fucked.

Author’s notes: Wow so I whipped this out in about 5 hours with leftover Christmas mimosa supplies. Literally can’t wait to add Mel in. Don’t know when but I will because I love her so much.

[ginnympotter]

I would love to see jealous Ginny! I’ve read so many jealous Harry fics and haven’t come across any jealous Ginny ones. I’m thinking Christmas ministry party or quidditch Christmas party where a few ladies who think Harry is fine are planning on how to trap him underneath the mistletoe.

"It's been sooo long since we've properly chatted, even though we both work at the Ministry!" said Romilda Vane, smiling in her scant, red Christmas robes, moving forward in a way that made Harry uneasy. "How are things? Word around the street is you might be the youngest person ever to be promoted to Head Auror, and very soon. That's quite impressive."

"Oh, it's really not..." Harry stammered, trying to think of what to say. He never really like Romilda, nor understood her interest in him- other than the obvious of being The Chosen One or The Boy Who Lived or whatever they were calling him these days.

"But it is!" she insisted, moving even closer. "You've accomplished so much... it's rather attractive."

"Is it?" asked Harry, looking around for a sign of his fiancé, pulling at his collar. "I don't really-"

"Of course it is! You're so ambitious and courageous- that always drew me to you."

"Er, thanks, I guess," Harry said, stepping back. Romilda moved forward in kind. "Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but I-"

"Oop!" Romilda giggled, looking up. "Mistletoe."

Harry looked up as well, seeing the little plant above their heads. When he looked back down, Romilda was closing her eyes, moving her face towards his-

"Romilda, STOP," Harry demanded, having had quite enough of that, moving back a significant three strides. "I'm NOT interested. I'm with Ginny."

Romilda didn't even look fazed. "Still? C'mon, like school romances ever actually last-"

"Well, ours has," he proclaimed defiantly.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't see a ring-"

Suddenly, a dainty, freckled hand appeared between Harry and Romilda. Ginny wriggled her fingers in Romilda's face, then held up her ring finger, her engagement ring shining brightly. "Now you see one, don't you?"

Romilda's composure dropped momentarily as her jaw hung low at the sight of the diamond. Coming back to herself a moment later, Romilda's narrowed eyes met Ginny's.

"And if that wasn't clear enough..." Ginny trailed off, smiling. She put her ring finger down and lifted her middle finger instead. "Maybe that'll do?"

Romilda let out a small gasp. Keeping her middle finger raised, Ginny used her free hand to loop her arm through Harry's.

"Now do me a favor," Ginny said sharply, despite her smile. "Stay the fuck away from my fiancé."

Romilda scoffed with disdain. "Slag," she said under her breath, turning and walking away.

"Hag," replied Ginny, loud and clear.

Finally putting her middle finger down, Ginny turned her attention towards Harry. "Sorry about that, but I had to. I saw you handling it yourself, but it wasn't scathing enough for my liking."

"Don't be sorry," said Harry, smiling at her with appreciation. "It was hot."

"Oh shut up," laughed Ginny.

"It was!"

"Is that why you took so long to tell her to fuck off yourself? So you could get some pleasure out of my jealousy?"

"Listen, I'm usually the jealous one. It's nice for there to be a switch-"

"Oh, don't be daft. Do you think I like how many witches are all over you all the time? I'm just better at hiding it," she smiled. "But just something about Romilda... she's always gotten to me. Couldn't control myself. Forgive me for my lack of decorum at your work event."

"You are forgiven," said Harry, pulling her closer.

Ginny smiled up at him. "Did you know you're standing under mistletoe?"

"I was made aware of that recently, yes," Harry laughed, and Ginny moved in for a kiss, which he happily met her for, work decorum be damned.

[ladylokianna]

My father's daughter

Pairing: no one, basically Aemond being a dad (and a husband).

Warning: nothing serious i guess. A bit of swearing, an obviously ooc Aemond being a protective dad, Vhagar being a protective great–grand mother, fluff.

AU oneshot in which the brotherly Aegond bond is based on the book and in which Aemond killed Daemon.

Introducing some of my Ocs, of which i'm very proud: Aerenys, his wife, and four of their seven children.

(Aemond here is around 36 years old, his daughters, two ocs of mine, are 16 and 11. Aegon, Daeron and Granny V involved.)

Words count: 3,6 k

A/N: i've checked it countless times, but if there were any mistake, i'm sorry in advance.

Translation from HV:

Kirimvose : thank you

Iksā gevie, kepa: you are beautiful, dad

"Can't we do without it?"

"Shhh!!! Can you please be quiet? If he wakes up, we're in trouble!"

"We'll be in trouble anyway."

Holding tightly the satchel, the younger of the two girls nodded, watching her older sister sneak into her parents' chambers through the secret passageway, the one immediately next to their bed: leaning in a little, she barely caught a glimpse of his hair, hearing his relaxed and regular breathing, hoping he wouldn't wake up just then.

Asterya tried to focus hoping to quickly find what she was looking for even in the darkness of the room: on the low table as well as on the dresser there was nothing but maps and notes, and rummaging again through the drawers was out of question.

Damn, why hadn't she thought of that before?

A sudden rustling from the bed made her freeze on the spot, but fortunately her father had only rolled over in his sleep. And that's when she saw it on the nightstand.

Mornings like those, in which the cold breath of winter had given way to spring sunshine, were ideal for training, or for riding.

Ser Emeric walked out into the large courtyard in front of the huge gate, ready to take up duty after the night watch, just in time to see someone rushing out of the gate: it was not uncommon to see the prince going out for an early morning ride, usually preceding a long patrol over the city on his dragon, so he paid no particular attention to it.

Wandering his eyes over the sky, tinged in the vibrant hues of the dawn, he released a sigh: what a nice morning it was.

What a fucking morning it was.

Ser Emeric swallowed hard before stopping in front of the double door of the Council room, uncertain whether to knock or not. Behind the intricate carving of the wood, his worst nightmare.

"Fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck, no, i can't do it."

Of all the things that could have happened during his shift, that was definitely the worst since he began his journey as a White Cloak, and now he also had to report it to the most fearsome man in the realm, the same man he tried to avoid with all his strength.

Prince Aemond.

The former Regent, the Terror of the Trident, the man who killed the infamous Daemon Targaryen.

He knocked three times with a lump in his throat: he could be dead before the sunset, hanged at the Keep's wall by his own guts like a common thief or feeded to a dragon –or worse, feeded to his dragon– and in all of this, he was only twenty and yet to live.

What a fucking death, eaten by that damned beast...

"Come on in." answered the king.

Once inside, his eyes turned immediately to Aemond, while Aegon looked up on him, settling aside for a second the parchment in his hands.

"What is all this fuss? Oh, good morrow Ser Emeric."

His sight was darting from Aegon and Daeron, to Aemond. The first two sitting at the table, the latter standing next to a window, scanning the outsides, seemingly indifferent to his presence.

Aegon saw him swallowing in discomfort, droplets of sweat running down his forehead.

"What's the matter?"

"I... i have... i have to speak to... i have to speak to his... his highness." Ser Emeric stuttered. The poor guy cleared his throat, wincing when Aemond turned to him, inquisitive and menacing even if he was dead silent as always.

"Then speak! Did the cat got your tongue?" Aegon followed his sight, noticing the gaze Aemond had been giving him since he turned. "Uuh, i see."

His brother's gaze, already intimidating in his youth, had worsened with the age.

"The... the princesses, your highness."

Aemond arched an eyebrow, his good eye still staring at the guard.

If i survive this, i swear i'll...

"Which ones are you referring to?" asked Aegon, leaning back and crossing his hands over his stomach, amused. Aemond did not seem to share the same opinion: he finally ignored the courtyard, crossing his hands behind his back in his usual manner, clearly annoyed.

"You may have not noticed, but i'm everything than patient." his tone, cold and scoffed, made the poor guard to tremble again.

"In the name of the Seven, Aemond, let him speak. To which princess you are referring to?"

"I'm... ehm... i'm referring to princess Asterya and princess Alicent, your grace."

Although he did not have a favourite among his children, it was obvious to everyone that his daughters were his weak point, the lights of his life: Asterya, his second born but his first daughter, was the one with whom he shared the deepest bond: skilled with swords and daggers, excellent with the High Valyrian, a proficient student of history and philosophy. Basically, as his wife loved to say, his female counterpart.

Her twin sister Helaenys was the opposite: calm and poised, she loved indulging in Helaena's company and was as good at embroidery as she was at throwing daggers.

Arianne, named in honour of a maternal cousin who died in infancy, loved to dance and did so whenever she could, especially with her uncle towards whom she had, reciprocated, a sincere affection: Aegon had taught her to shoot with a bow and she had an excellent aim.

Alicent, the youngest of his seven children, was born with the same characteristics as her paternal grandmother (even if her twin brother was born with hair and eyes like a Targaryen) and named after her in her honour; she possessed a crossbow and like her siblings she was a skilled dragon-rider and above all, like Asterya, highly intolerant of rules.

His most beloved children, although Aemond would never admit it, even under torture.

"My daughters what?"

"The princesses are… are nowhere to be found..."

And here it is, that gaze: even without his left eye, Prince Aemond was intimidating as hell.

Please Gods, please give me a fast and painless death. Fast, at least.

"Ah, here's who got your eye patch, Aemond. This is a fortress, for fuck's sake, what do you mean they're nowhere to be found?" replied Aegon.

"What about the armory, or the kennel?" interjected Daeron, sensing the storm approaching.

"No, my prince. They're not at all in the castle..."

"For how long now?" was Aemond's question, interrupting Ser Emeric.

"A stable boy noticed them on your horse during the last changing of the guard..."

The last changing of the guard had taken place shortly after dawn, Aemond reasoned, hours before. Five, at least.

"You're telling me that not just one, but two of my daughters vanished from the Keep several hours ago and you are warning me only now, after all those fucking hours?"

In those hours, needless to say, he had searched for them in every wing of the castle, on every patrol path, in every niche. Ser Emeric looked away from Aemond, who began to mutter something in a language he cannot understand: something unpleasant for sure, judging by Aegon and Daeron's faces.

"I'm going to kill someone today, i can sense it...and it's not even midday, imagine that."

Aegon cleared his throat, trying to think up quickly a way to placate his brother before he could lose his temper, looking at his dominant hand already clutched on the hilt of his omnipresent sword, ready to draw it.

"Wi... with your permission, i'll... i'll leave immediately in their search."

"Yes, wise decision. I also send Ser Criston in search of the girls." Aegon nodded.

"No way." stated Aemond, fuming, feeling the headache already pounding in his skull. "You barely manage to find your cock in your trousers, let alone my daughters. You're dismissed, but i can assure you, Ser Emeric, we will talk about it later."

Ser Emeric did not make himself repeat it twice: he walked out of the council room as if he had The Stranger himself on his heels, leaving the three men alone.

"Woah, what was that?"

"Hm?"

"Who taught you to talk like that? I'm amazed, little brother!"

"Oh, shut up."

"Can i count on you for a healthy drink in my quarters after supper? Let's talk a little, come on."

"You know i'm not much of a drinker nor a talker, right?"

"Who cares? I'll drink and talk... and you'll listen."

"There will be no dinner for me if i don't get my girls home before Aerenys is back: i already know she'll kick my ass."

His wife had been away to her native castle for a fortnight due to family matters and she would return that afternoon with Helaenys and Arianne: with all the days to get into trouble, his daughters had decided to do it on the very day she returned to the keep.

"Don't worry, brother, they are smart, they have certainly avoided any danger."

"Daeron... you have spoiled my girls too much and here's the results."

"Like you haven't done the same since before they were even born."

"He's right, you know? And i wouldn't worry about your ass if i were you: Aerenys likes it too much, she won't do anything to you. And you'll see that the girls will be home in no time. You know, if it weren't for the fact that your faithful wife has always only had eyes for you and that Asterya is practically your female version –poor girl–, you'd say she's more my daughter than yours: what a temper she has. Well, indeed she's my niece."

"May the gods be merciful, that's the last thing i need." Aemond replied, taking his leave in between Aegon's laughs.

He summoned Ser Criston and a bunch of his most trusted guards.

"Ser Emeric told me they thought it was you, my prince." Ser Criston explained. "We questioned the stable boy and he says that she wore your clothes and she moved like you, she even mounted your horse like you do. Nobody asked her to remove the hood, they were sure it was you."

A frustrated groan escaped Aemond.

"It is beyond serious if they cannot tell a grown man from a sixteen year old girl." huffed upset. "My daughter is visibly shorter and thinner than me."

"As i say, no one dared to check under the cloak, my prince."

"We'll talk about this later. As for the guards, they have to pray that nothing has happened to my daughters or they will answer directly to me." warned Aemond. Once on the saddle, he noticed everyone in the courtyard were looking at him, and with a sudden gesture, he lowered the hood of his cape. "So you know who are you getting out of the keep. Now open the gate."

Aemond pulled the reins suddenly forcing the horse to stop almost abruptly: at its protests, he leaned in to give two affectionate pats as if to apologise.

"Have you seen something, my prince?" questioned Ser Criston, turning back and flanking him, peering in his own direction.

In the heat of the moment he had not thought of Vhagar: she was not in her usual place. She usually liked a certain spot near the water, surrounded by trees but wide enough to allow her to move her wings as she wished, but he noticed that she had moved at least a hundred metres, which was unusual.

"Yes and no. I think i know where they are." after dismounting the horse, Aemond handed the reins to Ser Criston, with the order to return to the Keep. "Asterya surely left my horse somewhere near. I'm hoping to return with both of them before my wife's return or may the Gods be merciful with me."

He did not wait for Ser Criston to leave: he put on his hood again and walked through the trees. His horse was grazing peacefully in the shade of a tree, the reins secured to a sufficiently strong branch, and Vhagar was resting as usual: the air expelled through his nostrils was sufficient to stir the vegetation.

Smiling a little and approaching cautiously, he was determined to surprise his daughters without irritating his dragoness. Aemond reached out a hand and touched her: Vhagar opened her eyes wide, ready to incinerate anyone who dares threaten what she was protecting.

"Shh, it's me."

Her gaze immediately changed, and he heard her grunt, happy to see him.

"Hi baby." smiled Aemond, fondly stroking her snout. "Are my girls here with you?"

Indeed they were: Asterya walked barefoot on the shoreline, with only her tunic and her trousers -his trousers- gathered up to her calves to avoid getting them wet, while Alicent sat on the sand in the shadow of Vhagar's huge wing and had her back to him, reading aloud an old tales book in High Valyrian. On the ground, on a large blanket, Aemond recognised some of his clothes -his embroidered jerkin with the dragon shaped clasps and his cloak-, a couple of his books, a small basket with some leftovers and Asterya's boots.

"...i cannot decipher this last glyph." whined Alicent.

"How is it shaped?"

"It's like... it's like a chalice..."

"Rēko, rose." answered Asterya, without esitation.

Aemond smiled with pride.

"Kirimvose, my dear friend." he whispered shortly after, thanking Vhagar.

Both the stable boy and the guards were right when they say they mistook his daughter for him: dressed like that with her hair tied up like his, Asterya had all of them fooled. Perhaps she even would fooled him too.

They were right. Gods how he hated being wrong.

The icing on the cake was his usual eye patch -surely the thing Asterya had used to trick the guards- and the dagger he had gifted her for her tenth nameday, that she recklessly leaved near a book and out of her reach.

Careful enough not to be heard, Aemond found a way to sneak up behind Asterya, catching her by surprise and grabbing her by the waist with one arm. He intercepted her fist and easily stopped it, holding her so tightly she can barely move, finally revealing himself shortly after.

"Got you!"

Asterya stopped struggling as soon as she heard his voice, giving him a little slap on his arm in protest as he put her back down.

"Papa? For Gods' sake, what's wrong with you?"

Aemond smirked a little amused, but still angry, shedding his hood.

"Nice try with that fist, good job. You have to improve though."

"You scared her!" giggled Alicent, encircling his waist and resting her head on his stomach.

He smirked again, returning Alicent's hug and lowering his voice.

"Let's say it was my aim."

"How did you sneak so silently behind my back?" protested Asterya.

"Well, i'm quite seasoned than you, i trained you and i know exactly how you move. Besides, i told you countless times to not sneak out of the Keep, and yet you still disobey me. And what's worse, this time you brought your sister with you." Aemond retorts, returning the dagger to her. "This must stay always on you: you may not know when you have to use it, your life might depend on it. This time it was me, but what if there had been someone else in my place?"

"Vhagar would have protect us."

"What if she hadn't been there?"

"Papa, please, nothing's happened." sighed Asterya.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, young lady. You always have an answer for everything, mh? Fine. You are grounded: you cannot fly with your dragon for at least two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"One for you, one because you took your sister with you. That seems like a more than reasonable amount of time, counting that your mother would confine you to your rooms. There are rules that exist for your safety too, sweetheart."

"But... you told me not to stroll around the city alone anymore, or to the woods, or alongside the river... and i didn't do it again!"

Gods, he still remembered that time she went to King's Landing with her older brother -both disguised as commoners- to the Kingswood with her dragon or worse, to the Blackwater river.

Better not think about it again.

"Good, since i don't want you to go to the city without someone."

"You disobeyed Grandma Alicent when you were little, i know it."

She was referring, most likely, to his attempts in the dragon pit and above all, to the Driftmark incident. She knew it so well, since it was a story almost as old as him.

"Yes, that's true. And i paid a far higher price than you will." Aemond admitted. There was no need to deny something so blatantly well knowed, not to his own daughter. With an istinctive gesture, he then removed his eye patch and the sapphire underneath shone in the sunlight: few had seen his wound, and until then his children had no idea how awful it was. Asterya gasped, then looked at it in astonishment, her eyes fixed not on the gem, but on the severed eyelids, how the lower eyelid had sagged a little, making it wider than the healthy eye, how the eyelids seemed like to bent inwards and how the eyebrow, also cut in two, no longer allowed hair to grow.

"Oh, papa..." she said, raising a hand towards his face, but she did not dare touch it, only merely looking at it. "Has mama ever saw it?"

"We've been married now for eighteen years, she knows everything about me." he replied, stroking her head with a smile.

"Can i see it too, daddy? Can i touch it?"

Aemond bent down a little, allowing Alicent to look at him as well.

"Be gentle, it hurts more than usual today."

Asterya cleared her throat, feeling guilty for having brought back certain memories.

"Does it hurt a lot?" she asked.

"Sometimes yes, sometimes i don't feel any pain." he answered, still bent towards the daughter.

"Iksā gevie, kepa." asserted Alicent.

"You are certainly far more beautiful than I am, my love, but thank you. Why don't you start collecting the books in the bag, sweetheart? I need to speak a little more with your sister."

"Are we going home already? Ugh!"

"Your mother's coming back, aren't you glad to see her? I personally can't wait, I missed her."

"Yes, but at home Septa Gwyn never leaves us in peace. Can we at least take a ride on Vhagar?"

"We'll see."

Aemond waited until Alicent had gone some distance before paying attention to his eldest daughter again.

"Why are you crying?" his good eye wandered over her face, trying to comprehend the reason. Then he hummed, understanding.

"Two weeks are fine, papa."

"Two weeks my dear, not a day more, i promise. I've made so much mistakes in my life and i've payed for all of them, but if losing an eye was and it still be a fair exchange for having Vhagar at my side, losing your mother or worse, you or one of your siblings is a price i will never be willing to pay for my sins. I can understand your craving for freedom, i really do. But you're a Targaryen princess, you're my daughter: if something ever occur to you because of my past, i could never forgive myself. You can always count on me if you want to stay alone for sometime, for i would accompany you everywhere, but my point is that it's dangerous to sneak out alone. You don't want your annoying father around you? I got it, but at least alert your brother, or your guard. Someone. You scare the hell out of me every time!"

"Sorry…"

"Few things more, Asterya, i'm not done: i've showed the secret passages to you and your siblings only for safety reasons and not for sneaking in my rooms while i'm sleeping. That book belonged to Aegon the Conqueror himself, and the sand might damage it so take good care. About this…" Aemond added, showing the eye-patch she took from his nightstand "...you can use my things, but not this. Anyway, i'll order the seamstresses to sew you comfortable clothes so that you no longer have to ransack my drawers to steal mine: it's not appropriate for a girl to do such things."

"I won't do it again dad, sorry."

Aemond tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek in a loving gesture.

"...your disguise would have fooled me too."

Asterya looked at him with a wide smile and with a deep affection in her eyes, hugging him tightly.

"You are not annoying." she said, standing on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on his scarred cheek. "And i will not ask anyone but you to accompany me, you will always be my first choice, papa, i love you."

For a moment she was again the little five year old girl who used to sneak in his rooms during thunderstorms, with her wide blue eyes seeking for his reassuring hug.

Aemond kissed her forehead, returning the embrace.

"Want to join for a ride?"

[camels-pen]

moi et toi

this is for Sha for the Sanuso Secret Santa from twitter!! hope you enjoy!!

Summary:

Sanji turned, trying to meet Usopp’s eye. Trying, because all that he could focus on were the scars peeking through the bandages on Usopp’s neck. All he could focus on was how Usopp wasn’t just leaning all his weight on Sanji like usual. Wasn’t annoyingly digging his chin into Sanji’s shoulder to give his unnecessary and unhelpful opinions. How he was keeping his distance. “Wanna trade?” Sanji asked. “I do your wounds, you do mine?”

Sanji and Usopp redress each other's wounds.

Ao3 Link

—

Itchy. Everything was itchy. 

Sanji shifted against the cobblestone, dragging his back and shoulder across the hard ground none too gently as he shifted to his other side. It was nice for a second, then back to being itchy.

The fluttering breeze brushed his burnt shirt and he pulled the collar higher up to cover his neck. Itchy and cold, great.

His eyes roamed around, searching past Skypieans and Shandorians alike. He skipped over Mosshead and Luffy snoring away, Nami curled up under a blanket, and—ah, Chopper passed out next to Robin. 

Chopper’s medical bag was set down right next to them.

Sanji sighed, relieved. He slowly pushed himself to sit up, arms shaking with the effort. A nagging voice in the back of his head said something about overdoing it with cooking earlier, but he ignored it.

Leaning on his arms, he paused to focus on his breathing—on the smell of skewers, of beer lingering in the air—and waiting for the pain to pass. Waited for his muscles to stop screaming bloody murder at him.

And it did, the screaming slowly faded and he wasted no time standing up. Then he waited for that screaming to fade too. This time with the echoes of drums and laughter in his ear.

His discomfort spurred him on, but thankfully walking was much easier. The worse part was rummaging through Chopper’s bag.

“I saw him put it in here,” he grumbled, crouched by Chopper’s side and half his forearm in the small medical bag.

Behind him, a voice asked, “Put what in there?”

Sanji jerked and kicked behind him. All in all it was pretty weak, but two hissed breaths still filled the air.

“What the hell, Sanji,” Usopp said, crouching and rubbing his shin. 

“Fuck you, don’t sneak up on me,” Sanji replied, moving to sit on his butt. Quick movement like that was not a good idea.

There was a few moments of quiet—a particularly loud snore cut through the air—relative quiet as Sanji continued his search.

“...So what are you looking for?” Usopp asked. Rough, singed curls tickled Sanji’s cheek as a long nose appeared in his peripheral.

“Burn salve.” Usopp’s hair wasn’t supposed to feel like that. Shouldn’t feel like that. “Why are you up?”

“Same as you.” 

Sanji turned, trying to meet Usopp’s eye. Trying, because all that he could focus on were the scars peeking through the bandages on Usopp’s neck. All he could focus on was how Usopp wasn’t just leaning all his weight on Sanji like usual. Wasn’t annoyingly digging his chin into Sanji’s shoulder to give his unnecessary and unhelpful opinions.

How he was keeping his distance.

“Wanna trade?” Sanji asked. “I do your wounds, you do mine?”

Usopp reached past Sanji to pull the jar of salve from a hidden inner pocket. “Deal,” he said, a smile in his voice.

“Lucky guess,” Sanji grumbled.

The two shifted into a fairly comfortable position. Slowly, of course—stretching overworked muscles demanded it—but they did it.

Usopp sat practically in Sanji’s lap, his shirt tossed over Chopper’s legs and armband on his knee. The staggering amount of unwound gauze was left at Sanji’s hip.

It was… It was a lot.

Sanji hadn’t seen the extent of Usopp’s injuries when they left to save Nami. After waking up, he’d noticed the newer bandages on Usopp, but hadn’t thought much of it. Now though, now he saw the full force that lightning bastard had done to him.

Thin, branching scars darker than Usopp’s skin ran down his back, getting more clustered together at his shoulder. It looked like it overlapped with another set of branches that fanned out from partway down his spine. 

The scars spanned most of his back.

The jar creaked in Sanji’s hand.

“Sanji?” Usopp asked.

“The lid was stuck,” he lied. Sanji popped open the jar and set it next to him, heaping a generous amount on two fingers. “It’s gonna be cold,” he warned.

“A little cold never bothers the Great Captain—UEGH,” Usopp yelped as Sanji swiped his fingers right down Usopp’s spine. “Sanji!”

“Keep it down, you wanna wake everyone up?” Sanji asked, smug. 

“I’m getting you back for that,” Usopp whispered. His hands rested loosely on Sanji’s legs. Usually, he’d resort to pinching whatever part of Sanji he could reach. 

Usually.

As Sanji gently spread the salve, it started to warm up under his touch and the feel of Usopp’s skin tingled under his fingertips. The rise and fall of his back with each breath was soothing, grounding.

Reminding.

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

Sanji startled at the sound of Usopp’s voice. He pulled back from where his fingers were digging into the centre of his scar. “What?”

“This,” Usopp pointed over his shoulder. “All of this. It was that fake god, not you.”

Sanji furrowed his brows. “Obviously. I don’t even have shitty lightning powers.” He swiped another glob of salve across Usopp’s back. “I just wish I had a chance to beat up that bastard myself.”

“Oh.”

Usopp fell quiet and Sanji focused on his task. Focused on covering every bit of scarring and the places in between. On covering every bit of skin in as much relief as he could.

Soon Usopp was turning around and Sanji was doing his front too. The scarring was less severe, stopping part way across his chest, but the small branch on his neck caught Sanji’s eye again.

Sanji had the sudden urge to lean forward, to follow the path of darker coloured scars with his lips. Whispering between soft kisses how he hated to see Usopp hurt. How he wanted to squirrel him away somewhere and hold him close to his chest while they healed. How he needed to be there for him, to cook for him, to do something—anything—for him. 

How he wanted Usopp to need him, too.

A stuttered snore brought Sanji out of his head and realized he’d been staring at Usopp’s neck with his hands idle. 

Yet Usopp hadn’t said a word.

Sanji lifted his gaze, finding Usopp’s focused on a little patch of weeds sprouting through the cracks by his shoe. Gears turned in Sanji’s head as he reached for the jar. 

“Do you think this is your fault?” he asked.

The skin under Sanji’s fingers grew tense. “I can’t shoot lightning either,” Usopp said. 

Sanji stayed quiet, giving time for Usopp to add anything else. He paused his ministrations, letting his finger rest in one spot. 

Eventually, Usopp shifted, reaching for the jar. Sanji put his free hand over Usopp’s, halting the movement. “I got it,” he said.

Usopp’s hand returned to Sanji’s leg and Sanji returned to rubbing salve. His fingers lingered above Usopp’s heart and neck, but not long. Soon Usopp was all wrapped up in new bandages and it was Sanji’s turn.

Where Sanji had expected the first touch to be cold, it was warm. Bare skin running along his own as Usopp trailed a finger across Sanji’s scars. He wondered if they looked anything like Usopp’s.

I wish they matched, he wanted to say as he stared at a Skypiean’s sleeping form. “You forgot something,” he mumbled instead, pushing the jar closer to Usopp’s knee. The scraping of ceramic across stone was about as awkward as he felt.

Usopp pulled his hand away, as if burnt. “I didn’t—I-I mean I just wanted to appreciate the art—fuck,” 

Despite his racing heart, Sanji kept his voice even as he said, “You think it’s art, huh—?” He flinched as he felt a glob of freezing salve on his neck. “Oh fuck you.”

“I said I’d get revenge,” Usopp said. “Now lean back so I can do this properly.”

Sanji moved back and warm, calloused fingers hesitantly made their way down his back. It was odd at first, having a single point of gentle pressure running down his skin. Chopper’s hooves were much different—not just in shape and more satisfying pressure, but speed too. It felt like Usopp was trying to follow the lines of Sanji’s scars like a painter going over their brushstrokes, like Usopp himself working on one of his drawings. 

Usopp was slower, too gentle, and he was definitely using too much salve.

But Sanji would be lying if he said he didn’t love it.

No inch of scar was left untouched and never had Sanji been so thankful for Usopp’s good eyes. He could just quietly accept the pleasant fingers leaving trails of warmth all over him. All while that unbearable itch is slowly but surely relieved.

There was a nudge at his shoulder and Sanji yawned as he turned around. Usopp smiled, fond.

“Falling asleep?” Usopp asked as he started that heavenly touch again.

“Impossible not to,” Sanji said, sagging forward. 

Sanji blinked and Usopp was at his bicep. He blinked again and he was at his forearm. Again, and he was rubbing circles into his palm. Sanji didn’t have any scars on his palm.

“You’re pretty strong, huh?” Usopp asked.

The words took a moment to register. “‘Course I am,” Sanji said around another yawn. “Gotta be with this crew.”

Usopp’s fingers slowed. “Yeah… we have to be strong enough.”

“You’re plenty strong. And your gadgets really came in handy,” Sanji said, turning his hand to hold Usopp’s own. “I would’ve been in deep shit without you coming back for me.”

“Deep shit?” Usopp scoffed. “You would’ve been dead, moron.”

“It would’ve been fine—”

“You wouldn’t have been fine.” Usopp used his free hand to put a glob of salve on Sanji’s chest, making Sanji hiss. “And I certainly wouldn’t be fine either—none of us would be! Because you’d be dead! Maybe you’d become a ghost and haunt us while we fuck up your recipes!”

Weakly, Sanji said, “I idiot-proof my recipes… mostly.”

Usopp stared at him flatly. “I watched you write down ‘a shitty geezer’s worth of star anise’ once.”

Sanji raised a brow. “Yeah? Everyone knows how much star anise a geezer uses in braised pork belly?”

“It’s like you don’t even hear yourself.” Usopp shook his head, spreading salve across Sanji’s collarbone. Despite that, there was a smile playing on the edge of his lips. 

With his fingers so close, Sanji could pick up the faint smell of gunpowder. It mingled with the last remnants of their feast and his eyelids drooped. It smelled like the galley, like home.

But Sanji could smell ozone, too.

He pressed his forehead to Usopp’s shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered.

Usopp didn’t push him away. Didn’t try to keep his distance. “Hey,” he whispered back.

Sanji just breathed for a few moments, enjoying the stronger smell of gunpowder. The feel of Usopp’s body heat—and his body beneath Sanji’s forehead. 

“We wouldn’t survive a day without you, y’know?” 

Usopp’s breath caught. “O-Of course not. The Great Captain Usopp is a boon wherever he goes,” he mumbled. “But I need to do more. I hardly did any fighting this time around.”

Sanji’s brows furrowed. “You of all people should know it’s not all about brawn.”

“Trust me, sailing with you, Zoro, and Luffy makes it very clear—” Usopp yelped as Sanji dug a finger into his side. 

“Don’t lump me in with Mosshead.”

“You brought it up!” 

“Whatever. More importantly, we love your big stupid brain.” We love you. Sanji yawned a third time, digging his head further into Usopp’s shoulder. The guy had no reason to be this comfy. 

“It can’t be big and stupid.”

“That’s what I thought before I met you.” Sanji laughed as Usopp pinched his cheek. “I’m mostly kidding.” 

Usopp pinched his cheek harder. “You’re awful at pep talks.”

Sanji swatted Usopp’s hand away. “Doesn’t matter, point is if you get big stupid muscles too you’ll put Zoro out of business. Have a little sympathy for the poor bastard.” 

Usopp laughed once, loud and surprised, before quickly covering his mouth. Muffled, endearing little sounds slipped through his hands, making Sanji’s heart flutter and a smile grow on his lips. 

Once his laughter died down, Usopp said between giggles, “I suppose I can do that, for—for poor Zoro’s sake.”

“So the Great Captain can be benevolent too. Will the wonders never cease?” Sanji said, pushing down the urge to kiss the smile right off Usopp’s lips.

“Oh he’s had a long standing tradition of benevolence!” Usopp said as he shifted to start working on Sanji’s other arm. “Did I ever tell you when I gave a winter island a lake’s worth of hot chocolate?”

As the painter returned to his canvas, Sanji let his eyes fall shut. He shook his head and replied, “Tell me about it.”

“Well, they didn’t like me at first,” Usopp started, tracing scars with bare fingers and resting his head atop Sanji’s. Practically whispering the story into his hair. “They were up in arms lining the shore—but not with guns, no, with giant icicles in odd swirly shapes—”

With a quiet, familiar voice at his ear and the smell of home in his nose, Sanji started drifting away in Usopp’s arms. The night was still cool, but the pleasant warmth trailing down his muscles and filling up his heart lulled him deeper and deeper. In his last moment of consciousness, he felt a soft pressure above his brow and a murmured word of thanks in his ear. 

[sturniololuv08]

On The Eleventh Day Of Nickmas...

Day 11 of Juno's 12 Days Of Nickmas (Day 12 will be TONIGHT)

Nick felt a weird sense of guilt after what he had done yesterday afternoon. He spent the rest of the day in his room, avoiding Matt and Chris. They were already too involved with his personal life, and he was actually afraid they would guess what he had done just by making eye contact with him. He balled up his dirty sheets and threw them in the corner of his room, saying he would do them in the morning when no one would catch him. It was the morning, so he grabbed his sheets and went downstairs. He froze, absolutely mortified by the sight he saw. Matt and Chris were awake and in the kitchen. So he panicked, thinking they would put the puzzle pieces together. But that wasn't all; as if to add to the extra embarrassment, Jared and his sister were also in the kitchen.

"Nick, you're up." Jared looked a little more energized seeing his best friend.

"You're here." Nick tilted his head and shifted his weight on his feet.

"Yeah, Matt invited us over early so we could bake and help set up for tonight." Bri smiled eye level at Matt.

"Nice." Nick was trying to play nonchalantly.

"Doing laundry?" Chris asked with a brow raised.

"Yeah. Haven't washed these in a while. I just forgot since we've been out of town." He praised himself for sounding so natural. He made his way over to the washer and dryer and shoved the sheets in, making sure no one could see the crusty spot.

"You gonna help us? We are making sugar cookies right now." Jared appeared right next to Nick. He looked up into the green eyes he envisioned and again felt the pang of guilt.

"Yeah, gimme a second." He added the soap to the washer and started it. He came back out into the kitchen and saw the mess everyone was happy to be making. Matt was flirting openly with Bri while rolling out dough that had already been made while Jared and Chris were playfully fighting about stirring the next batch. Nick sighed at the scene. He needed to act normal. The only problem; he wasn't entirely sure what normal was around Jared anymore.

"Nick, you wanna start a third batch?" Jared stopped harassing Chris and turned his attention to Nick. He was having fun poking Chris' nerves but would rather give his attention to Nick. Once his sister got into town, they settled in for the night. The next day they spent all their time gift shopping because Bri didn't want to show up today without presents for the boys hosting. It was Christmas Eve, and the triplets were having a small LA Christmas party. Their house wasn't big, but with a little bit of setting up, it would still be a good time. While shopping, Bri did her usual sisterly thing and started asking Jared about Nick. Jared, at first, was dodgey, but then halfway through 20 questions, he gave up and gushed. He told his sister everything anyway, so getting her opinion wouldn't hurt.

Jared being able to talk about Nick freely opened up his eyes and mind to his best friend being more. He wasn't sure how their dynamic would change if they got into a relationship. He also was unsure if he wanted to test that boundary. He loved his friendship with Nick. It was random and fast but also comfortable and genuine. Bri, of course, urged Jared to go for it. She has always wanted to see her brother happy, and even though Matt frequently stole her attention, she wasn't blind to the chemistry her brother had with his best friend.

"A third? How many people are coming?" Nick questioned.

"I don't know Chris invited everyone." Chris was the socialite of the three, so he probably invited a good number of people.

"Like 30 people?" Chris was reading the back of a box for his next move.

"30 people in our house? Are you fucking insane?" Matt lifted his head to join the conversation.

"Only half RSVPed." He made a face that told everyone to calm down. "Most people are with their families." He had a point.

"What if, like, no one showed up?" Bri started giggling at the thought.

"We'd have a lot of cookies to eat." Chris laughed.

"Are we only making cookies?" Nick interjected to see the whole plan.

"No, we got a list." Matt handed him the food prep list. He scanned over it and realized it was mainly easy finger foods. The morning quickly turned into the afternoon. The house was flipped upside down and ready for anyone to attend the holiday party.

"Looks great." Jared stood slightly behind Nick. Nick thought he was talking about the living room he was staring at. They had slightly decorated more and moved the furniture around to optimize the number of people it could hold. Jared was talking about Nick. He had been checking him out all day. Jared's heart would flutter whenever Nick and Chris would get into a war with the dough mix. Nick laughing and spending time with his brothers made Jared happy. He could see how genuine of a person Nick was behind the scenes of their videos. He was always clipped to seem a little meaner or disinterested in his brothers with his dry humor, but Jared saw the bits between the pieces not edited out. He saw Nick.

"Yeah, we got like an hour before people should be here."

"We should tal -"

"Where are we putting the present?" Bri's arms were full.

"Let me help you," Nick ran to assist her. He heard Jared but wanted to avoid it. After his secret session, he was afraid to talk to Jared about anything related to that. He wanted to have a good Christmas Eve and pretend nothing was going on as best he could.

"Thank you." She handed the boxes to Nick.

"Presents?" Matt raised a brow.

"I wanted to get you guys some stuff, so yesterday we went shopping," Nick noted. That's what Jared did all day since he didn't message him once. Nick knew he was with his sister, so he wasn't worried or anything like that, but he did wish for a single text of some sort the whole day.

"Bri, you didn't have to!" Chris side-hugged and shook her.

"Any friends of my brother's are friends of mine." She nodded matter-of-factly.

"That's so sweet, babe." Matt let it slip off his tongue. Everyone immediately looked at him. "Bri." He fumbled to fix his mistake.

"Yeah, Bri," Nick said sarcastically as he tucked presents underneath the tree they decorated haphazardly. Glances were exchanged.

"I'm going to go play Fort with Justin while we wait." Chris checked his phone for the time.

"Can I join?" Matt asked. He and Chris dipped out, leaving the kitchen a mess. Bri followed Matt into his room without a word.

"I guess I'll clean up." Nick huffed. He started loading the sticky baking dishes into the washer. He felt pressure behind him. He turned his head and saw Jared right up against him.

"I'll help you." He smiled softly. Nick was frozen. He immediately felt his body flushing with heat.

"Okay, " he whispered, unable to move. Jared wrapped his arms around Nick from behind and started rinsing dishes. Nick was stuck between Jared and the counter.

"I'd be able to get more done if I had more room," Nick said sassy.

"Does this bother you?" Jared challenged Nick. He pressed a little harder.

"N... n... no." Nick stuttered. He felt himself press against the counter, already feeling the pressure in his groin growing.

"What about this?" Jared used his height to his advantage and dipped his head low to kiss the nape of his friend's neck. Nick involuntarily tilted it to the side.

"No." He bit his lip. He still stood in place, unsure of what to do. He could stop everything, but his words already confirmed his desire. "What if someone walks in?" Nick wondered who could pop in at any moment.

"Just tell me to stop." Jared ran his fingertips over Nick's hipbone line, leaving goosebumps behind their trail. He lingered just underneath Nick's belly button. "Stop?" he questioned. Jared wanted to hear Nick say it was what he wanted, partially for consent reasons but mainly because he wanted Nick to want him back.

"No." Nick moaned out. Jared slowly moved down Nick's happy trail, tickling the hair that led him right to where he wanted to be. Nick grabbed the counter tightly. Jared's hand felt so much better than his own. It was taking everything in him not to start bucking wildly into the counter's edge. Jared wasn't entirely in the clear, either. He was slowly growing himself. Nick wanting him gave him tingles, and the excitement he felt at the idea of touching Nick's cock for the first time was burning in his own. He slowly wrapped his fingers around Nick. They let out a small moan at the same time. Jared started chuckling. "What?" Nick flushed red.

"You must want me bad?" Jared teased with his words and his fingers running over Nick's tip. Nick tilted his head down and gripped the counter with a low hiss leaving his lips.

"Yeah." Nick removed Jared's hand from his waistband and used it to tug him up the stairs to his room. Jared wasn't prepared for this action, so he followed aimlessly. Nick slammed the door shut and tossed Jared to the bed.

"Damn, Nick." Jared smiled with lust swirling in his eyes. He wasn't sure what was about to happen.

"You want me too." Jared couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement. Nick straddled Jared's lap and cupped his neck. He smashed their lips together roughly. After yesterday afternoon, Nick craved more Jared. He knew it was silly to want more of someone you never had, but Jared didn't seem to have any protest. Jared did not have any protest. He was all in and ready to go as far as Nick would let him. Jared's hands moved up and down Nick's sides over the fabric of his shirt. Nick had some underlying self-conscious tendencies and wasn't ready to take his shirt off. He had changed in front of Jared countless times but not with the mindset of it being seen as attractive by his best friend.

"Are we just friends?" Jared, being older, has had past experiences where he'd been intimate with friends, some of whom he stayed friends with and others with whom the friendship was ruined. He didn't want either of those to happen with Nick.

"No." Nick finally admitted it out loud. He dove back in to continue kissing Jared. By this point, Jared was packed in his sweats and needed relief. He lifted his hips with Nick on his lap, never breaking their kiss, and pulled his sweat to his mid-thigh. Nick was now able to rub himself back and forth on his exposed skin, giving Jared the friction he had been hoping for. Jared leaned back on his elbows and let his head fall. "Oh, yeah?" Nick smirked, realizing how much pleasure he was able to cause. He wanted to press this further, but he was nervous. He had been intimate with guys before, but something about Jared was unique. He kept grinding on him, watching his face wince with gratification. "Are you going to cum for me?" Nick asked.

"Uh-huh." Jared opened his bright green eyes and looked at Nick. It was just how he imagined it yesterday. Nick felt his pulsating penis throb one final time before busting. He didn't stop grinding on Jared's bare skin. He decided he wanted to be bold and surprise him. He stopped moving, and Jared's eyes shot open again to ask the question his mouth couldn't form. Nick gripped Jared's length in his hand. He subconsciously compared it to his own and noted Jared was smaller in width than him. He started pumping up and down fast. "Oh Fuck." Jared exclaimed out loud. He wasn't quiet.

"Cum for me," Nick commanded. His tone wasn't dominant but more so pleady. Jared lost his control and released all over Nick's hand. A few spurts released and came back down on his stomach and shirt, but he didn't care.

"Fuck. Nick." Jared bit his lip and rolled his head backward again. He started to see little stars as his vision blurred. Nick stayed sitting on top of him.

"Hey, Jared - " They turned around to see Bri in the doorway.

"Shit." Nick leaped off of her brother. Jared tucked himself away so she hopefully wouldn't see anything.

"Woah, I'm sorry." She covered her face. "I... Never mind." She sputtered and left, closing the door behind her.

"Well, shit." Nick stood up and felt his own sticky substance in his pants. He started stripping.

"What?" Jared was sure his sister didn't care because she advocated for her brother's happiness.

"I mean, she saw us." Nick was flustered. His face was red from being caught and a pleasure high.

"Yeah." Jared chuckled, lying on the bed still covered in his own cum.

"She is going to tell Matt." Nick was upset about it. Other than saying whether they liked someone or not, the brothers had a line they didn't cross, and that was talking about anything overly intimate.

"And?" Jared wasn't getting it. He was excited to be linked to Nick in any way. Nick huffed. "Not everything has to be doomsday." Jared smiled at him. Nick was still uncomfortable with the idea of his brother knowing more about his personal life than he wanted to share.

"I guess you're right. Who knows, she may not say anything." Nick was trying to keep positive.

"Oh, she is telling Matt." Jared shot him down. He knew his sister well enough to know Matt was hearing everything right now.

"People are here!" Chris's voice boomed through the skinny house. They changed clothes, which was going to be evident to Bri and Matt no matter the lie they could come up with to cover it up. As they descended the stairs, all eyes were on them—Chris' eyes were oblivious, Bri and Matt knew, and now Tara and Larray were in the mix.

"Nicky!" Tara snatched him up quickly.

"Let's party!" Chris hollered. Bri molded into the group flawlessly, but Jared struggled with who to talk to and what to talk to. Nick was doing his best to introduce him around the room that was filling up but after it got full enough they were no longer in each others proximity. Jared felt like Nick was avoiding him since they had been caught. He didn't understand why it was such a big deal for Nick. He also wanted to address their "not just friends" mini-conversation. Was it true, or was it just said in the heat of the moment? Jared felt stupid that this 21-year-old kid was making his head spin, but he couldn't get enough.

This ons is a little late: 1- It's the longest Nickmas I've written. 2- I wasn't quite sure its direction... But tonight I know EXACTLY what's going to happen so be PREPARED.

Taglist: @trevorsgodmother @strnilolover @chrissbug333 @kirby0strombolli @abbilmao @ksturnz @marrykisskilled @thenickgirl

[forwardrussia]

Friendship bracelets

[ratatatastic]

scare the hoes more and keep yapping about ekky (& others) getting used to maffhew, it delights me. and say even more about how sasha handles this feral and sweet omega that gets dropped into his orbit. smth smth “feels like i’ve known him 10 years” or whatever vows sasha recited to the press, cameras, and god

apparently we are taking more tumblr user ratatatastic abo yap thoughts for 500 may god hear our screams up wherever he is. big man in the sky you fuckin owe me one.

i think theres so much in particular to say in concerns of 1619 and how quickly they gelled irl but even more so in an abo au

ive always enjoyed when people assign matthew stronger scents that take getting used to if you don't like it already and i know ive read a fic where his scent notes did skew towards stronger cinnamon foods/drinks

anyways on that note it wouldnt surprise me that sasha takes so easy to this spicy little omega.

Like of course he does, he smells like the pastries he used to eat back at home, the pastries he eats now because he's found an established Finnish bakery down here that makes them homemade every morning, the bakery he likes to frequent with the other Finns when he can.

Is it ever a wonder that the cute omega that sent him such a terribly sweet text when the trade news broke out (you know, after the initial excitement worn off because Sasha does chuckle at memory of the brash "Fucking, right!" that pinged on his phone the very first time from an unknown number) smells like... home... No matter all the rumours that have swirled around Matthew, the rumours Sasha has personally experienced himself playing against him...he smells nostalgic. Like Sasha could be at home right now—you know, home home—lounging outside his cottage with tea and pastries on the little table that he's set out. The warm cinnamon that wafts from the typically sterile room they've assigned for pressers smells divine, for lack of a better word. It smells indulgent. Because Sasha can't have those homely pastries all the time, what, with his training regiment.

It's why he doesn't quite believe it that Matthew's the one that's the centre of it all. He's absolutely convinced he's hallucinating because the season is about to start and he's had to cut back on all his favourite sweets as much as it pains him to but for the betterment of the team? He'd do anything. And yet despite the way he rubs at his nose to at least try to clear it, he smells that cinnamon. That cinnamon that's definitely coming from new omega they traded over who's laughing so obnoxiously at the lectern they have set up that if his scent didn't catch your attention, his loud mannerisms certainly did. His voice is practically bouncing off the walls in big loud echoes that should hurt Sasha’s ears. Emphasis on should. As it is he finds his heart melting more than it should instead.

It's been quite a long time since someone's scent has moved him this much. All the people that have, have been in his life for so long he's forgotten what it's like to feel instant scent compatibility. His nostrils are flaring and he's trying his best not to open his mouth to huff in big gulps of it because it's rather impolite to be so obviously scenting the new guy. It could be misconstrued as Sasha taking offence to the new presence in the room.

Some part of his brain is still trying to catch up to the idea that Matthew even smells at all because the first time he met him (down here for some joint offseason ice-time) he didn't particularly smell like much, if at all really. Whether it's because he put on blockers to not intrude on pack territory until he smelled more like them, or he was still on suppressants even in the summer, Sasha wasn't sure and he definitely wasn't going to ask about it.

Known him for 10 years? He feels like he's known him his whole life. But 10's a safe number, 10's a number that won't scare off this new omega, right? 10's a number that conveys "As Captain I want this to work out, I'm opening up my pack for you, I won't shun you, you're welcome here," and not "If I stick my nose in your neck right now to scent you, they're gonna have to forcibly evict me from the new home I've found in you, and it's not gonna be a pretty outcome."

It's also why he's a little nervous when Media Day is over because despite how much it dragged along in years past it practically blitzed by and now Sasha has to—

You know, properly scent the new addition. Give them the purring acceptance of their Pack leader's scent to carry with them. And it's nothing big, it's just some chaste wrist rubbing... something subtle and not too overwhelming for everyone: the pack, and the newcomer alike. It's not like Sasha is going to mouth at Matthew's neck glands. He doesn't think he can even handle that right now but that's a problem for future Sasha—for when Matthew is really part of the pack and not like a goldfish in a plastic bag being dunked into an aquarium to get used to the water temperature. He just has to rub his wrist against his, it's like basic Alpha etiquette. It'll be fine, mostly. He hopes.

And it's as anticlimactic as he thought it'd be: gentle reintroductions and reignited chatter of excitement about the new season that's about to start... maybe just with the new lingering scent of sweet and spice in the background as if someone lit up a candle without Sasha even noticing it. It's a struggle to keep his eyes from closing from how heavy they feel, from how relaxed he feels in the presence of this new omega he knows has pissed him off on several occasions as composed as he was about it.

Matthew presents his wrist in a flourish successfully managing to divert his attention back to what they're supposed to be doing all alone like this in the dressing room like this, "I'm sure you've been dying to do this huh, Cap?"

Sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. He knows? Sasha doesn't think he's been sending off any signals that could've hinted otherwise but Sasha admits that he's well out of practise, he hasn't had to reign in his scent this much in such a long time, and maybe Matthew picked up his weird fixation—

Matthew waggles his eyebrows for extra effect an offbeat later when the joke doesn't seem to land the way he wanted it to.

Oh, thank Christ, he's just teasing him. It's a joke. He doesn't actually mean it in the way Sasha thought he meant.

"Yes. Yes, I have," Sasha chuckles in relief, shaking his head at Matthew's attempt to lighten the mood.

"10 years, or so I've heard, bud."

"You heard? Uh, listened to the..." he trails off.

"Kinda hard not to when the setup made it sound like you were in the middle of the Earth, my guy. I don't think my ears are ever gonna recover from that."

"It's the first day for everyone," Sasha lightly chastises, not particularly aggrieved at all but wanting to keep up the banter to stall for time, so he can prepare himself. Quite honestly he feels like travelled back in time to the young anxious Alpha he was breaking out into the league for the first time.

"Be gentle, I bruise easily."

"Right, gentle. I'll treat you better than my clothes on the delicate cycle."

"Is that supposed to be a line?" Matthew says in glee, his voice pitching into incredulity.

"Line like fishing?"

"Oh, come on! You know what I'm talking about! You've been in this country long enough to pick up on that!"

"Yes, yes, that."

Matthew shoves at his shoulder playfully. "Just go on and do the thing already."

"Doing the thing."

Matthew snorts but his wrist is limp in Sasha’s hold. And as much as it was a dumb joke he does feel delicate between his fingers like that. So delicate that when he rubs his own wrist against his—to transfer over their pack scent—he feels like he's going to break it if he holds onto it for too long. It's why he drops it as quick as he took it, hands scrambling to his sides in an effort to remain polite but also to get a handle on himself so his pheromones don't go haywire with the new stimulus. It's a bit of a losing battle because he knows his scent just. But he can play it off as the excitement of an Alpha being able to claim another member to his pack, it's a possessive kind of thing.

"Well, see you around! Call it a hunch but I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other." And the joke wasn't funny the first time, truly the equivalent of leaning on the office fax machine and going "You come here often?" to your coworkers who just want to get their work done—and just as sleazy too with the greasy grin Matthew has permanently stuck to his face but Sasha still laughs like he did the first time he heard it.

And it's only now that Matthew is gone that Sasha realises the room smells strongly of cinnamon, so potent that anyone with a working nose would be able to tell that. Like Matthew was doing his best to ease Sasha’s obvious nerves when Sasha should've been the one to calm the omega who's been uprooted from their own pack and thrown into a completely new environment, himself.

"Jesus, it reeks in here. Smells like cinnamon," Aaron wrinkles his nose, wandering back in after his own media duties were done, finding Sasha all alone in the locker rooms.

"It does?" Like he can't tell the room smells like the equivalent of someone knocking over a Yankee Candle into an open fire.

"Yeah, like an awful lot." Aaron scrunching up his nose, trying to fight off an incoming sneeze. "It's strong," he says without thinking, swallows before his eyes shift over to Sasha and then to the floor, "Not bad just... strong..." The I can get used to it is left unspoken between them.

"I like it," Sasha admits because if Aaron is confessing to things without thinking then he might as well too. They've known each other long enough.

"I can tell." Aaron snorts, "You reek too."

Sasha lets out a questioning little noise, tilts his head to the side as he silently urges Aaron to continue.

"You have no idea what cinnamon and cardamom smell like together, do you? I feel like I walked into a bakery when I should be at the gym right now."

"Is that bad?"

"For you? No, of course not," Aaron's eyes soften, and while his scent wasn't anywhere close to abrasive, it does lighten up just a tad bit in the presence of his pack Alpha. "For me? I'd rather dunk my head in a bucket of coffee beans." A bit of an exaggeration on Aaron's part but the wry grin he has on really adds to the fact he's just joking—just a little, maybe there's some truth hidden in there. He knows how Aaron is, the way he tries to downplay anytime he bristles about something. Peace and vibes, and all that.

So Sasha can joke as well, "Forsy's stall is over there," and motions his head towards it across the room.

"Oh, hilarious."

"If I was funny I would say jock."

"You know, what? I think I will hit the gym today, thanks for reminding me."

"Mmm, anytime." And when Aaron's half out the door he adds, "Ask the staff where they put the jerseys we used today!"

"I'm going! To the gym!" he echoes back, not bothering to turn around as he shuffles down the hall in a hurry, and decidedly not going in the direction of the gym. It's not surprising when he hears chatter pick up and shoes scuffing briskly into the direction of the laundry rooms.