#you-prob-know-bug

[what-do-bunyips-look-like]

This crab day thing has gotten so frustrating so fast. The person who suggested it is an anti-abortion anti-feminist right wing christian transphobe. Many of the people spreading additional posts and info are ALSO anti-abortion right wing christian transphobes. Seriously. Start clicking their blogs when you see these posts. Search "abortion" and "feminism" and "trans" and "gender" and "groomer." This is really easy to confirm. But people don't give a shit because "crabs fun." okay.

And its not like people aren't aware of it at this point. Search "crab day" on tumblr and a good chunk of the results are asks saying "hey btw crab day was started by a transphobe/right wing christian." and most of those people have responded with something along the lines of "Um okay but like its a good idea though??? You guys can't even collaborate with conservatives for like a second to achieve a political goal? UGH this is why nothing ever gets done 🙄." or "Um okay but like that post had nothing to do with their political beliefs. so like its fine lol. Crab fun." Or "oh no omg im so sorry thats so gross i deleted the post but im still gonna keep reblogging all the other posts by the conservative transphobic anti abortion right wing christians whos blogs i wont check because we need to save tumblr!!!!"

Let me make this really fucking clear for those who don't get it: it doesn't matter if the post is not about their political beliefs. You and all your mutuals are reblogging them. You are making it easier for them to network and find each other. You are bringing them new followers, a bigger audience, a bigger platform and a bigger pool of people who will spread their oh so relatable non-political posts. Which will bring in more followers. And some of those new followers are going to be young dumbasses who are going to see all their posts about "groomers" and "mutilation" and the evils of porn and the horrors of abortion and how feminism actually harms women and do i need to tell you how that story ends?

You are showing that "crab fun" is way more important to you than the safety of trans tumblr users. You are giving them a bigger platform and a wider net with which to potentially harm trans people. By saying that you're not going to let their political beliefs ruin your fun, you're making it very clear that trans people are less important than your fun. And you're making it VERY fucking clear that you'd RATHER tumblr become a safe and welcoming place for anti-feminist anti-abortion right wing transphobes than give up fun crab.

You are showing that your need to throw money at a corporation is more important to you than trans tumblr users. I get where you are coming from. I do. You want tumblr to keep existing. I want tumblr to keep existing. I also want the other trans people who use this fucking platform to keep existing because frankly, they are the only reason i'm here. and if they aren't safe here and if you will throw us away just to keep tumblr shambling along a little longer then I have no fucking interest in tumblr.

"Okay but we need to save tumblr uwu!!!!" Look I'm just some dumbass and I don't know shit (and to be PERFECTLY honest, so are you), but I think this is a little more complicated than "if we raise enough money we can save the school/family farm/community centre/(insert cozy heartwarming thing that needs to be saved)!" As other smarter people have said, tumblr is operating at a yearly $30 million deficit. Thats $30 million just to break even. For one year. not become profitable. Its not a bail them out once and its all good forever situation. Tumblr is not a small message board run by volunteers who actually use donations to stay afloat. They are not a non-profit. They are not running a pledge drive. Throwing money at a corporation does not a nonprofit make. It makes you a consumer.

Your response to "tumblr making bad changes" is "give them money for making the bad changes to show that we don't like bad changes!! A reverse boycott'll show 'em!!" You sure about that??? (And some of you are calling this """""unionizing?"""" Put that word back on the shelf.) You don't know what you're doing and you're not listening to the smarter people who have tried to explain it to you. And once again, you're showing that this half baked scheme is more important to you than trans tumblr users. because crab fun.

And @everyone whos clambering over each other to "collaborate with conservatives for a good cause," we already fucking know that you love to do this shit. You are the same people who will say "yeah but theres bad people on both sides!!!" and who wont give up your Harry Potter or your Chick-Fil-A. You will throw us under the bus the SECOND it gets you something you want. Even something as stupid and small as pickle brine or a shitty videogame or fucking "crab day." And guess what. The second all your "shared goals" are accomplished and the conservatives get what they want FROM YOU??? You're going straight under that bus too.

And also, isn't it maybe a little hmmmm. SUSPICIOUS that CONSERVATIVE CHRISTIANS want to throw money at the site that we've been bitching and screaming at for how unfairly it censors any display of queer sexuality????? They don't have the same problems with tumblr that you do. You think that collaborating with THEM is gonna stop that? Gonna get the porn ban reversed? Gonna turn tumblr into a co-op? Gonna "unionize this bitch?" Hello????

If you must. MUST participate in this because crab oh so fun and tumblr is oh so in need of saving then for the LOVE of FUCK make your OWN POST and STOP PLATFORMING THESE PEOPLE. i don't want to hear "Oh but its a good idea it doesn't matter if a bad person came up with it separate art from the artist lol" if you're not MAKING AN ACTUAL EFFORT TO EXCLUDE THEM FROM THIS. BLOCK THEM. CHECK THEIR BLOGS. BLACKLIST THEIR URLS. ITS EASY.

and then maybe go give your $3 to an actual non-profit. or to an actual leftist independent organization. Or wikipedia. Or inaturalist. Or to one of the many hyperspecific message boards out there who are struggling along on donations from like 5 people. Or maybe, maybe, give your fucking $3 to an abortion fund or to a trans person's go fund me so they can buy food. Or to a womens shelter or a fucking homeless person or to any of the other people who anti-abotion anti-feminist right wing christian transphobes want to stop existing.

My partner is afraid to leave the house alone because people with these exact same political beliefs are in power. People are getting their HRT ripped away from them because people with these exact same political beliefs are in power. People are being forced to give birth because people with these exact same political beliefs are in power. Every day I'm ready to get the news that the state my partner is in is no longer safe and we have to figure out an escape plan. These people do REAL HARM in the REAL WORLD and their beliefs are, tbh, way more fucking insidious and mainstream and tolerated than those of TERFs.

But fun crabs are more important. okay.

[synthetic-sonata]

august-september artdump bc i keep on slacking so theres only been some sketches recently ( I have Not Drawn a finished piece since july )

+ huge art dump of Messy Pen Test Doodles that i do when i download like 15 extra csp brushes i dont even need or use + General Extras as to not clog the post below

thank you for your time yayyyyy . whimsicott mocha for the trouble

[noctupede]

almost 2 year anniversary of my most popular post ever

disguise

isopod brain isopod brain

[confetti-critter]

I was figuring out how exactly map pixel art works and so I filled the border of the smallest map size in creative and....ah.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Horrific news. My period might have returned.

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

Oh baby | Criminal Minds

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x F!Reader .・゜✭・.

Summary: you and Spencer unexpectedly become parents despite not being together officially

A/N: This is probs my fav fic I’ve written, so far. Hope you guys love it<3 lmk your thots:D also not proof-read I just wanted to get something posted.

BYR(b4 u Reid): Kind of a situationship?, nervous and scared Reid | kissing lol <- [warnings]

You woke up feeling absolutely miserable, maybe even worse than a hangover. A wave of nausea hit you hard, sending you rushing to your bathroom.

Dropping to your knees in front of your toilet, you barely had a second to catch your breath before you started throwing up, your stomach twisting with each heave “gross” you muttered

Flushing the toilet, and brushing your teeth you run to your alarm reading the time 7:30 am

Thirty minutes before you had to be at your desk

You throw on something work-appropriate but comfortable, not having energy to put much effort into your appearance after the rough start to your morning

As you walk towards the door, your eyes flicker to your calendar. Something makes you pause, and you decide to check it

A sinking feeling settles into your stomach when you see it’s around the time you’re supposed to start your cycle, but you quickly brush it off not wanting to stress yourself out even more

Cycles change all the time you convinced yourself it was just happening to you

As soon as the elevator doors opened, you hurried out, making a beeline for your desk.

“Just in time.” Spencer noted as you arrived

“I was worried I was going to be late.”

“You had exactly one minute to spare.” He held up a cup of coffee “I picked it up on the way.”

You took the cup but eyed him skeptically before grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards a quieter corner, his brows furrowed in confusion

“It’s a nice gesture, really,” you said as you lifted up the cup “But this looks a little suspicious.”

“Getting you coffee is suspicious?” He questioned

You sighed “I just don’t want the team in our business. They’re already catching on, and I’d rather keep this between us.”

He considered that for a moment before nodding “If it helps, I’ll buy Derek coffee tomorrow to throw them off.” He suggested

You couldn’t help but smile “you’re annoying.”

Spencer chuckled, then, to your surprise, laced his fingers with yours “you know.” He said matter of factly “If anything looks suspicious, it’s you pulling me somewhere private for a conversation.”

You nodded agreeing with him “You’re right.” and with that you let go of his hand “I’ll talk to you later.” you say as you walk away from the tall gorgeous man

You’d be lying if you said you didn't miss the way your fingers felt together or the sounds that leave his mouth when he laughs

It was like music to your ears

You know you shouldn't feel that way since what you guys have isn’t official, and you didn’t want to get hurt.

A few days have passed and it was like each day was worser than the last, now it was headaches, fatigue, nausea all creeping in at the worst moments

But you're convinced its just a bug, between the stress of the last case you and your team did and the lack of sleep it makes sense that your body is shutting down

Except, your girl friends at the BAU don't believe that one bit

“Geez, you look pale.” JJ says as she leans against your desk, arms crossed “And she’s been running to the bathroom a lot.” Emily joins in

You wave them off “I'm just coming down with something”

“Yeah that's what you said yesterday, and the day before.” Penelope recalls “What is this an intervention?” you question

“Nope, just your friends worried about you.” JJ says as she shared a knowing look with Emily and Pen

“It’s nothing.” you assured them

“Hey, I brought you some tea.” Spencer says as he joins the group, setting a cup down in front of you. His eyes scan your face with concern “you look sick.”

Your stomach twists at his comment “Do I really look that bad?” you ask feeling a bit insecure

Spencer's eyes widen slightly, he stumbles on his words “No-no, not bad. I just meant… you seem unwell. That's all.”

Emily smirks, shaking her head “Way to go, Dr. Reid.” she grabs her files and walks off

JJ gives you a sympathetic look as she stands “And that's our cue to leave. Come on, Penelope.” Garcia leans in as she follows JJ “Feel better sunshine.” she says before disappearing down the hall

Spencer shifts on his feet “I’m sorry. I shouldn't of had said it like that.”

You sigh, feeling guilty for your reaction “It’s okay. I’m just feeling extra sensitive today. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

He studies you for a moment, then lowers his voice “Have you thought about seeing a doctor? You've been sick for awhile now.”

You shake your head quickly “It’s not that serious.” but Spencer doesn't look convinced “Well…If you need anything, I'm right here.

You offer him a smile “Thanks, Spence.”

As he walks away, you stare at the tea he left behind. The more you think about it, the more unease settles in your chest. What if this isn’t just a stomach bug? What if it’s something worse.

And worse than that, what if you’re right?

As soon as lunch rolled around, you grabbed JJ, Emily, and Penelope by the arms “Come with me. Now.”

“Where are we going?” Garcia asked, eyeing you curiously “A store.” You hesitated, lowering your voice “I need a test.”

All three of them stopped in their tracks, wide eyed “Like a test test?” JJ asked, eyebrows raised, you nodded the fear in your eyes answering for you

“Okay.” Emily said already walking “Let’s go.”

“Wouldn’t you want to do this with…you know, whoever might’ve done this?”

“Uh, no. He’s busy.” You said quickly, leading them toward the exit, but just as you reached the door, Morgan and Spencer appeared

“Hey, where are you guys headed?” Morgan asked “Yeah, I thought we were all getting lunch at Caesars.” Spencer added, Rossi standing beside him

JJ reacted fast “We’re getting medicine for y/n” Spencer frowned “Oh I can come. I know which one will work best.”

“No, no, no, we got it.” Garcia said quickly waving him off Spencer narrowed his eyes, clearly sensing something was off, but eventually nodded “Alright. See you later.”

The four of you bolted out the door.

Inside the store, you stood frozen in front of all the pregnancy test selections, overwhelmed.

“Why are there so many?” You groaned, scanning the shelves “These are easy to read.” JJ said, grabbing a Clear Blue and handing it to you

You grimaced “Do I have to put it on the register?”

Emily snorted “You literally profile murderers for a living, but you’re scared to purchase a pregnancy test?”

“No wonder you might be pregnant” Garcia teased “Were you too scared to buy condoms too?”

You shot them a glare “Hilarious.”

JJ rolled her eyes and grabbed the test from your hand “I’ll put it down.” you sighed in relief “Thank you.”

At the register, you all smiled stiffly at the cashier as he rang it up. He barely acknowledged you guys, but that didn't stop you from feeling widely judged.

Back at the BAU, the four of you rushed to the restroom.

“Pee on the stick, wait five minutes, and we’ll either celebrate or cry.” JJ instructed “Your call.”

You exhaled, feeling like you were preparing for battle “Alright.” Stepping into the stall, you did what you had to do, then set the rest down on the counter, turning it away from you

“Timer is set.” Garcia announced, your heart pounded, you knew what the results was going to be, and that terrified you more than anything

The four of you sat in silence on the restroom floor, gross, but none of you cared right now. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air

“Time’s up.” Garcia finally said glancing at you with concern, you swallowed hard “I can't look.”

“Want us to?” Emily offered you nodded “Please”

JJ picked it up first. The three of them leaned in, their expressions unreadable. Then, without a word JJ handed it to you

Your hands trembled as you looked down

Pregnant

Your heart dropped, and a lump formed in your throat, but you refused to break. Not here, not now. Instead, you slowly nodded, forcing out a breath “okay”

“So…is this good or bad?” Garcia asked, studying your face, you opened your mouth, then closed it “I don't know.” you admit

“Are you going to tell him?” JJ asked gently, you nodded “eventually.”

Emily places a reassuring hand on your shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze “We’ll give you time to process, when you're ready, we’re here.”

Each of them gives you a small, comforting smile before slipping out of the restroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling

“Why? Why? Why?” you whispered to yourself

This wasn't just about you.

This was about Spencer.

Your coworker.

A man you weren't even in a relationship with.

How the hell were you going to tell him?

You stepped out the restroom, exhausted and ready to be anywhere but here. Your body felt heavy, your mind even more so. All you wanted was to crawl into bed and shut the world out.

“Hey! We’re still on for tonight?”

The familiar voice made you stop in your tracks. Of course it was Spencer.

“Tonight?” You frowned, genuinely confused

He gave you a puzzled look “Movie night? At my place? Like it has been every Friday for the past six months?”

“Oh…right.” You let out an awkward laugh, and rubbed the back of your neck “Sorry, I’m just- are you sure you want me there? I don’t want to get you sick.” You say even though you knew what you had wasn’t contagious

“I’ll be fine.” He said with a small smile “I can disinfect everything.”

You hesitated before nodding “then, I’ll be there.” “Great.”

Silence settled between you two, he looked at you like he knew something was off, and part of you wanted to just say it right then and there.

“Well, I should get back to my files.” You said quickly making an excuse to leave.

Before you could slip away, he gently grabbed your hand “Are you sure you’re alright?” His voice was quieter now, more concerned.

“Yes, Spencer, I’m fine.” You forced a reassuring smile, but his eyes searched yours unconvinced

“Did I…do something?”

“What? No!” Your stomach knotted at the thought of him blaming himself “why would you think that?”

He hesitated “Just how you’ve been acting recently, I want to know if it’s because of me.”

You sighed, squeezing his hand before pulling away “It’s not you, I promise.”

He nodded but the uncertainty was still there “Okay.”

With that, you turned and walked back to your desk, diving into your files, forcing yourself to focus. For a couple hours, it worked. You got lost in the work, grateful for the temporary escape— until a voice whispered right into your ear

“So… who’s the father?”

You jumped, nearly knocking over your coffee “Jesus Garcia.” She grinned unapologetically “Sorry, did I scare the baby?”

You glared at her “No, you scared me.” She leaned in closer “Can I take a guess?”

You gave her a warning look “You don’t know him.”

Garcia scoffed “Sweetie, I know this guy. Anyone with a pair of eyes can tell just by the way you two interact. You guys are getting it on.”

Your face burned “Penelope.”

She wiggled her eyebrows “So, it is who I think it is.” You sighed, lowering your voice “You have to keep this a secret. Please.”

She immediately sobered, nodding “Of course, but you are telling him, right?”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Spencer who was talking to Hotch across the room “Yeah.”

“I’m happy for you guys, no matter what you choose to do.” Garcia said warmly you gave her a small grateful smile

“Thank you. I just- I don’t know what to do. I know my options, obviously, but I don’t think I can go through with that. But at the same time, I don’t want to do this if Spencer isn’t ready. I don’t want to hold him back.”

Garcia shook her head “Look, he loves you. It’s so obvious the little things he does for you, the way he talks about you when you aren’t around. He is going to be ready.”

You let out a deep sigh, looking down at your hands “we’re not even together.” The admission felt embarrassing, like it somehow made everything worse

“Honey, you know Spencer. It takes him awhile, but he’ll come around to making it official. He’s just scared.” You exhaled leaning back into your chair

“Yeah…maybe.”

“not maybe— definitely” she corrected “Just give him time.”

The work day ended, and you had finally returned home, you threw yourself on your bed still in your work clothes but too lazy to change

You laid there deep in your thoughts until you drifted off to sleep

You weren’t sure how long you had been out but there was knocking at your door that woke you

You looked through the hole and seen it was Spencer, he looked worried “Spencer?” You question as you open the door allowing him to enter

“I was calling, you never answered. I got worried.” He tells you as he looks at you scanning to make sure you were alright “I fell asleep, I’m so sorry.” You apologize “no it’s okay. I’m just happy you’re safe.”

“Today was exhausting.” You admitted. He gave you a look of understanding “Can I do anything to help?”

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his voice. He was always quick to offer whatever he could “No, it’s alright.”

“Are you sure? I give great massages.” He teased, a small smirk playing on his lips, you let out a small laugh “I’m sure, Spencer. How about we just watch a movie?”

He nodded, clearly liking the idea “what are you in the mood for?”

You thought for a moment. After everything today, you just wanted something comforting, something that reminded you of simpler times

“The Fox and the Hound.”

Spencer’s face lit up with a soft smile “That’s a good one.”

“Can you set it up while I change?” You asked “of course.” Spencer replied without hesitation

You stepped into your room, closing the door behind you. As you emptied your pockets your fingers brushed against the pregnancy test. You sighed, staring at it for a moment before tucking it away in your nightstand drawer

Once you had changed into something more comfortable, you walked back out, expecting to see Spencer in the living room but he wasn’t there. You glanced around and spotted him in the kitchen.

“I decided we needed popcorn.” He casually said as he poured some into a bowl “That’s a good idea.” You smiled

Settling on the couch, you grabbed the remote as Spencer joined you, sitting down beside you with the bowl in hand.

You pressed play and it didn’t take long for you to immersive yourself in the familiar comfort of the movie

The movie held your full attention, so much so that you barely noticed every time your hand brushed against Spencer's in the popcorn bowl.

It had always been your favorite movie as a kid, but now watching it while being pregnant, it felt different.

Then came the scene, the scene that always broke your heart as a child and even now as an adult

The little old lady drives off in her car, away from the Fox leaving him in the woods to be free. It felt like it hit you harder then ever before, and suddenly you couldn’t hold back the tears

Spencer turned his head, noticing the way your shoulders shook “Are you crying?” He asked softly “no.” You lied even as you wiped at your cheeks

You let out a small, embarrassed laugh, trying to play it off. Spencer shook his head, shifting to face you. Without a word, he reached out, gently brushing away a stray tear “Hey, it’s alright. It’s a sad scene.” he agreed

Your eyes met his “I think I could use that massage now.” a small smile played on his lips “I think you could too.”

You turned around, away from his gaze, and pulled your hair to the side giving him full access to your back. His hands found your shoulders, pressing in firmly. The tension in your muscles melted under his touch.

“You’re tense.” He murmured. You sighed, eyes fluttering shut “that feels good.”

“So, what’s been on your mind?” He asked your eyes snapped open “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been really stressed lately, today especially. You told me it’s not me, so… what is it?”

You hesitated, knowing this was the moment. You couldn’t keep avoiding it.

“Spencer.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper, his hands stilled “yeah?”

You turned to face him, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. His stomach dropped, he didn’t know what you were about to say.

“Hold on.” You murmured, quickly getting up. You rushed to your room, grabbing the test from your nightstand. When you returned, Spencer was watching you carefully, his brows furrowed in concern

You sat down, heart pounding “I have something to show you.” You say as you hold out the test to him, Spencer took it hesitantly, his eyes scanning the results

His lips parted slightly “oh.”

That single word terrified you

You weren’t sure what he was thinking.

Spencer on the other hand, his mind was racing so fast he couldn’t form a single coherent thought. His fingers tightened around the plastic stick.

“Say something.” You say as you watch him intently, his head snapped up, eyes wide, searching yours as if trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces “You’re…pregnant.” He said

You nodded “yeah.”

Spencer swallowed hard, looking back down at the test, then back to you “it’s mines..right?” He questioned hopeful that you wouldn’t have been with anyone else “of course it’s yours.” You said quickly, feeling a strange mix of emotions, offense, anxiety, fear.

“Right. No, I-i didn’t mean it like that, I just-” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he tried to process “This is…a lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Spencer went quiet again, his mind clearly catching up to reality.

And then, finally, he looked at you “How are you feeling?” He softly asked “I don’t know. Scared, overwhelmed.” You admitted

Spencer nodded and reached for your hand, taking it in his, it felt warm and grounding.

Spencer hesitated for a moment before taking his hand away and reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small, folded piece of paper. He held it up between you.

“I’ve been carrying this around for a while.” He admitted “It’s a list… of all the reasons I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Your breath caught “Spence-”

“I’m not finished.” He said quickly, his eyes pleading with you to let him get it all out “I’ve been planning to tell you for so long. Too long. I should’ve said something the moment I realized it was you.”

You just stared at him, heart pounding, and he cleared his throat “I even calculated the probability of a successful relationship based on compatibility factors and shared interests.” He let out a small, nervous laugh

That made you smile. Without thinking, you reached for his hand, giving it a soft squeeze

“I want to be with you.” He said, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable “But don’t say yes because of the baby. Say yes because you want me the way I want you.”

His eyes searched yours “say something?” He whispered, you swallowed hard, then nodded towards the paper “Can I read it?”

Relief washed over his face as he handed it to you without hesitation “You just carry it around?”

He nodded, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips “It reminds me of you. So even when you’re not with me, it still feels like you are.”

Your chest ached, and you smiled at him with tears in your eyes “I want to be with you.” You say

Spencer had never felt anything like this before, it was overwhelming in the best way, pure happiness, the kind he never thought he’d get to have.

Despite the fear of the unknown, he knew one thing for certain, he was happy it was you he was going to experience this with.

He pulled you into him, the embrace feeling both familiar and new. This time, there was no more unspoken words, no more uncertainty. Just the two of you, together, exactly as you were meant to be

“So…do the girls know?” He asked, remembering how strangely they all had been acting at lunch, you nodded “They were with me when I found out.”

Spencer exhaled, his eyes softening “I wish I had been there.”

“I know.” You murmured guilt tugging at your chest “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head “I just, I don’t want to miss anything. Not with you, not with this baby. Every doctors visit, every sick day, every moment, I want to be there.”

His sincerity made your heart ache in the best way “I want you to be there too.”

His fingers gently tilted your chin before he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It was soft, and lingering.

When his tongue traced along your bottom lip, asking for more, you gave in without hesitation.

After he pulled away, he smiled, his eyes full of wonder “I can’t wait to see you grow.” You brushed a hand over his cheek, returning his smile “I can’t wait to see you become the best dad.”

Should I make this into a mini series ? Where the next part can be them telling the team? 🤭 next chapter -> Family | Criminal Minds

check out my other works<3 here

[ditzydoe444]

Thinking about farmhand!Jason or cowboy!Jason who works on readers parents farm. She still lives with her parents to help them with the farm work and obviously has a big fat crush on Jason. Like when he’s chopping wood sweaty and shirtless or how he can lift a hay bale with only one hand AHHHHHHHHHH. Anyway!!!actually just need Jason to fuck her in the back of the barn (probs in the haystack OOPS) and he’s covering her mouth as he’s rutting into her cuz he can’t let them get caught and let everyone know what a slut the town sweetheart is can he?

-🍼

MDNI 18+

a/n: i did cowboy jason because i love them

jason wasn’t dumb, he knew about your wondering eyes staring at his body when he chopped wood, or how you would pretend to ‘read’ outside when he took care of the farm shirtless on a hot day. you grew up in a sheltered household, living on the farm far away from town didn’t help. “jacey you need help?” you spoke sweetly as you watched him chop wood, his muscles flexing and the slight tan on his skin glistened.

“nah don’t worry ‘bout that sweetheart ‘ve got it.”

he thought your not so discrete crush on him was adorable, as you grew up isolated you had very little friends hence why you followed him around like a little puppy.

it was harmless until the two of you started fucking.

“j-jacey jacey,” you panted as he fucked you in the barn, rutting against you as you laid on the haystack. it wasn’t comfortable by any means, but having a giant man built like a greek god buried deep inside you rubbing your gummy walls making your mind go blank, how could you complain? the barn was the safest place out of the farm, the only area where your parents didn’t wander around because they thought you were too prim and proper for a dirty place like it. “so good sweetheart you’re so tight,” he groaned as his nails dug into your soft flesh.

“so deep, so big,” you mumbled like a mantra, your eyes wide and dazed from the pleasure whilst a sheen of sweat covered your soft skin. one of jason’s hand covered your mouth, “ssshh sweetheart, need to keep quiet for me alright?”

jason was well loved by her parents, they saw him as a respectable man who helped the farm, not a man desperate and greedy for their daughter’s pussy.

he watched as the bulge in your stomach moved, how your small cunt was able to accomodate to his size alone was mesmerising. he watched as your hand weakly traced his biceps, going through every little detail and tracing the veins along it. “you’re so big jacey,” you mumbled though he came out muffled due to his hand.

he chuckled softly, kissing your neck as he continued to rut into you. “just for you sweetheart, a princess like you needs a man.”

jason was a possessive man, there was no way in hell that he would have some sort of preppy boy date you. you needed a man who would pick you up on dates in a large rusty truck, one that could build the house of your dreams with enough land that you could run and giggle along, and reassure you softly when you need it the most.

he knew your parents thought about marrying some sort of 9-5 office man in the small town, but that just wouldn’t make you happy. you were a princess, you had dreams that a skimpy cooperate man couldn’t provide. jason could build you the house of your dreams, a porch with a swing so you could read and admire him as he worked, a sunroom so you could bathe in sunlight without getting out when it’s hot and sticky with the bugs and of course small pink details and accents scattered everywhere for you to find when you’re bored.

“mmm, jacey ‘m close,” you whined as you shut your eyes from the feeling on your lower stomach, his strong hands gently coaxing your orgasm as they squeezed your lower stomach. he watches as your glossy pussy clenched around him, almost milking him. “come on sweetheart you can do it, just keep it quiet can’t have the town knowing i’m fucking the neighbourhood’s princess.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Reader with a small army of Invincibles is soooo funny to think about. Do you think the GDA would try and bend over backwards to try and please him?? Since if he wanted he could tell his Marks to destroy the planet, and the GDA doesn't have many defenses.... So a significant amount of resources is used to keep reader happy.

They probably have his apartment bugged to hell and back. Reader complains about rent increasing? Suddenly your landlord is telling you it's alright, rent isn't increasing! You complain about the writing of a TV show? A month later and the show seemed to have changed to "fix" your criticisms...

I could see reader thinking that one of his boys is doing this, but they swear they aren't. Unbeknownst to them a whole team of agents is making it so reader doesn't get fed up and decide to screw over the planet, lol.

Reader accidentally spills his drink on himself after having a really bad day and grumbles a half-hearted "god I just want to blow this planet up" and the team of agents hired specifically to watch him start sweating bullets.

I like to think the reader doesn't even have the like, thought that his invincibles could do anything to earth. Like yeah, they could wipe out the planet but like, why would they?? Reader won't ever want them to destroy earth or kill anybody, even if everything is really shitty, but the GDA lives with a constant "oh god we can't let his guy snap"

I don't think the GDA would bend over backwards at first. In the beginning they'd pull their usual threats and blackmail, but the reader is just a normal guy, as normal as they come. And yeah, reader gets worked up about his family being threatened, but his marks start hovering nearby, looking like they're ready to start frothing at the mouth.

I think the reader is at least somewhat aware of the fact that he's always under Watch, the GDA doesn't really hide it after a while, especially after Cecil has met him and they've talked.

Reader probs gets a stipend or something from the government for his "government work", which is just him pretty much keeping the group of evil viltrumites in check. Which the reader does by petting them all on the head and giving them kisses.

It's really good for the rent too, you pay like a quarter of what everyone else pays. You just think it's a mistake on the landlord's behalf but why say anything when you think you're getting a great deal.

I do think the marks would have done some threatening though. But their presence is enough most days, just knowing how they've killed millions probably, and will kill again if they wanted too, or rather, if you wanted too.

But you're too busy researching how big a bed needs to be for all of you guys to cuddle together at the same time in something that isn't a pile of bodies.

I feel bad for the agents monitoring your apartment. They're gonna hear a lot of stuff, some steamy and some just straight up weird stuff. The marks give them multiple near heart attacks every day when they grumble about killing and world dominance, but you always distract them again with a kiss and comment.

[1d1195]

Thank you 😭 💕

The Lottery - Extra I

Read The Lottery here | ~2.5k words

From me: takes place within days of the last part (maybe even the next day?) I missed them; I know some of you did too 💕

Warnings: none, they're just going to love each other now (although FINE, maybe a TINY bit of angst)

Summary: One peach and one white chocolate chip pancakes with a side of Harry please. --Peach to Harry, probably, 24/7.

“Can I have one peach and one white chocolate chip pancake?” She batted those pretty eyelashes at him so excessively. Today wasn’t a reading day, so she was dressed in her normal clothes and yet Harry thought she still looked stunning. Not that it was particularly difficult to do so. She made the Cat in the Hat look good for God’s sake. Dressed as an elf made him have inappropriate thoughts. So a plain shirt tucked into jeans made him nearly lose his mind. The way she fluttered her lashes was downright sinful. She was so sweet it was nauseating.

And she was all his.

“No,” he rolled his eyes and headed toward the other end of the counter to pour coffee for another person.

She pouted. “Really? There’s no perks to this boyfriend thing at all?”

“Nope,” he shrugged a shoulder. But within seconds he placed her cold coffee in front of her. She reached over the counter for the plate of cream and sugar, but he smacked her hand gently. She sighed.

“What was the point,” she mumbled.

He rolled his eyes and leaned over the counter, cupped the side of her face, and kissed her forehead letting his lips linger there for a second. “So dramatic,” he muttered brushing his thumb over her cheek.

She smiled sweetly and sipped her coffee. Her face felt warm with the display of affection in front of everyone. She didn’t mind in the slightest but wasn’t sure how Harry would approach it.

Given the entirety of the regular breakfast diners watched their exchange, she thought he might not like all the attention. “It’s about time,” Alice sighed and sipped her coffee satisfied at last it seemed. She giggled at the older woman. “We were all beginning to lose hope,” Alice nodded knowingly and nearly everyone else in the diner responded with nods of agreement.

Harry ignored their teasing and headed back to the kitchen to make the love of his life the pancakes she so desired. But there was that twinge of a smile at the corner of his lips that felt so much harder to hide this morning. “Alice,” Ed rolled his eyes. “They’re kids, let them live.”

“Well, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes they belong together,” Alice grumbled to her husband. She laughed again as she took her notebook from her bag and settled it on the counter to make her list for the day. She glanced at Harry longingly as he hid in the back, only catching sight of his forearm as he worked at the grill. She wondered how he really felt about the attention. Would he be different? Was he okay with the spotlight back when he was young? She didn’t think he would change all that much and that was fine; he was exactly who she loved exactly as he was. She didn’t want him to think he had to change though.

But maybe he would smile more. He had a great smile, and the town deserved to see it, they probably missed it. She bet it reminded them of his mother and that had to be a treat for them. However, selfishly, part of her liked being the one that drew smiles out of him. Getting to enjoy his dimples in private.

Was he touching her because he felt like he had to? That was the last thing she wanted. She wanted Harry to be himself and nothing else. That was why she loved him.

“We like when Harry smiles like that,” Alice whispered loudly.

“Don’t get used to it, Alice,” Harry deadpanned from behind the kitchen wall.

She rolled her eyes. “Men are stubborn, Miss Peach,” Alice reminded her. “Even the cute ones that make you breakfast.”

“I agree,” she nodded as Harry returned with that heavy sigh of his; the very one that quite possibly made her fall in love with him and the very stool she sat on so many years ago. He settled the plate of pancakes in front of her (one of each of her favorites, of course, not that anyone could tell). He leaned over again and kissed her temple. “Extremely stubborn,” she said pointedly as she poured syrup onto her plate.

“M-hmm,” he hummed going around to the tables to refill coffees while she worked on her list. She pulled her phone out to check her calendar, examined her emails, and looked over her messages to see if there was anyone she needed to text. Which was probably plenty, actually. Bailey, Louis, and her family needed a message sharing the news. “Busy day?” He asked putting a hand on her lower back as he peered over her shoulder. She melted into the touch a bit, shifting ever so slightly to sink a bit into his hand.

“Think so,” she smiled. “Lucky me.”

“Mm...”

“Do you say anything besides mm and m-hmm, and nuh-uh.”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

She tilted her head up at him. “You don’t have to touch me if you don’t want to in public. I like it, but if it’s not your thing...”

Harry bent so his lips touched her ear, the hand at her back slid forward wrapping around her waist and he pulled her toward him to half-hug her as he spoke. “I like touching you very much, Peach. Don’t worry,” he assured her and pressed another kiss to her cheek. “S’easily going t’be m’new favorite thing,” blood rushed to her face, making her feel utterly warm all over. “Eat your pancakes, Peach. Y’got a busy day,” he reminded her with a squeeze and headed back to the kitchen to cook.

“Stubborn isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Alice,” she felt a bit flustered as she felt the gaze of her neighbors and friends all over her blushing face.

“Never said it was, Miss Peach.”

*

She missed him. If she stepped outside, she could probably see him in his diner, and yet, she still missed him. It was insane. She was craving him, and it felt nearly idiotic to feel such a way. There were kids at the table studying, there were people milling around for books, and she was sitting at the register trying to maintain her composure at how ridiculous she felt for missing Harry after a couple hours of being apart. She never missed him before, and it seemed silly to start now.

She would see him later, of course. They would order pizza or eat leftovers. There would be a movie or a show. Snuggles on the couch or and maybe she would make out with him. There was no reason to miss him when he was hardly far away.

Her phone vibrated. At the risk of sounding a little insane... I miss you.

Her heart burst. I thought I was going crazy. 😅 I miss you too

Good ❤️

I’ll come by after I close.

I might need a pick-me-up sooner than that. I’ll have to come in for coffee before I head home.

I’m walking across the square now.

She couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face as she looked up to see Harry carrying a coffee tumbler and a pastry bag. There was a small smile on his lips. Not the full blown smile she saw when he was alone or the one he always managed around Gemma, but the one she was sure the town knew. He was stunning and he was all hers.

She sighed with relief and met him outside because even the extra ten seconds it would have taken him to walk inside seemed ludicrous. Ten seconds she would never have again. Maybe it was because it had been so long without being a couple. Or because she was finally able to know and acknowledge what Harry had gone through to know life was incredibly short. She wasn’t wasting any additional time without the love of her life.

“Hi Peach,” he chuckled at her as she held the door open.

“Hi.”

He ducked his head to press a gentle kiss against her lips. “How’s your day?”

“Better,” she sighed.

He smirked, shaking his head. “Well, I gotta get back, but...”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“See you later,” he grabbed her hand, squeezed it, and brought it to his lips. His eyes watched her the entire time and she felt so adored and loved by the emotion it seemed almost too intimate for the middle of her bookstore. But it was exactly what she needed to satisfy the craving of needing Harry. “Bye Peach.”

“Bye,” she smiled.

*

“Peach?” He called into her house.

“Out back!” She answered. Harry dropped his keys and a bag for overnight items in her front room. He made his way to her backyard. He found her between two trees, lounging in her hammock. She had a can of bug spray cradled beside her as well as a book, with a small light attached to the front cover and illuminating the page. “Hi baby,” she grinned as he approached. “Wanna lay with me?” She asked.

His heart skipped a beat. Yes, always. Every minute of every day. “Yeah,” he nodded.

She scooched slightly as best she could in the unsteady hammock and Harry fell in beside her. Carefully he coaxed his arm under her neck, and she turned slightly dropping her head to his bicep and she sighed contentedly. “M’gonna spray this, close your eyes and mouth,” she ordered.

He smiled and waited while the smell of bug spray settled over him. “How was work?” She asked.

“Good,” he shrugged. “Same as always.” She brought a hand to her necklace and pulled the charm along the chain for a moment. “Y’nervous?” He asked, bringing his fingers to her cheek and he skimmed his knuckle across her jaw.

“Why do you think I’m nervous?”

“You play with your necklace when you’re nervous.”

She tilted her head. “I didn’t know that,” she mumbled.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “It’s subconscious to touch the necklace I got you?” There was a smile in his voice that was a little hidden by the setting sun.

She snorted. “Wouldn’t peg you as the possessive type.”

There was no hiding the warmth of his beautiful smile at the sound of that. “For you, Peach? M’very possessive.”

“Good to know.”

“Why are y’nervous?”

“Do you remember the day Bodie broke up with me?” She asked.

He nodded. “I know y’were upset...but anytime y’broke up with someone made me happy.”

“Very kind of you,” she laughed.

“Possessive,” he repeated. “I remember.”

“Why were you upset?” She asked quietly.

He frowned. “Uh...”

“I guess you don’t have to tell me. It’s just I was thinking about how you said there’s not a lot of living here. Which I think is unmistakably wrong. There is so much life in this town and I love it so much but I worry that you’re going to continue thinking it’s not enough for me, because I know you. So I just want to know what about that day got you so sad that when some guy that doesn’t even matter anymore told me this place wasn’t everything—”

“S’the date m’mum died.”

Her voice died in her throat. “Oh,” she managed.

He smirked. “Sorry t’bring y’down. You asked.”

“You were so upset.”

“I missed you,” he shrugged. “Hadn’t seen y’much.”

“So... you’re not... not going to try and talk me out of this town?”

“Honestly, Peach. I’ll probably try t’convince y’to move away every day of our lives.”

She held his face in both her hands and pouted. “What if I don’t want to go?” She whispered.

“M’not going t’be very convincing,” he assured her with a grin and bumped her nose against his.

“You have the best smile, Harry Styles,” she sighed.

“S’for you, Peach. Y’brought it back to the surface,” he reminded her. “Did y’see the moon?” He asked pointing up. “Saw it on m’way over.”

It was the entire reason she was out there, but she was never going to tell Harry that ever. She would let him point out the moon every day of their lives because it was the sweetest thing in the world, and he was the only person in her life that cared to look for it on her behalf. “She’s so pretty, isn’t she.”

“Stunning,” he murmured but he was looking at her and kissing along the length of her hairline.

She laughed. “Harry,” she giggled. “I meant the moon.”

“Mmm... I love you,” he whispered.

She sighed deeply, her heart feeling so warm and so happy. It seemed unfair that they took all this time to get to here, but God did it feel worth it. “I love you,” she answered. Harry cupped her face and pressed a kiss on her mouth the way he imagined kissing her for the entire time he knew her. She tasted like syrup, and it had been over twelve hours since she ate pancakes. She was just that sweet. As much as she reminded him of the moon, she was warm like the sun, and he loved holding her so much. She was light, love, and simply perfect for him in every single way.

“M'a lucky guy, Peach,” he mumbled into her lips.

“Feeling is mutual,” she whispered back breathlessly.

There was a snap, and they were on the ground with a thud.

“Fuck!”

“Ow!”

“Jesus,” she hissed and then laughed. “That hurt.”

Harry laughed. “Are you alright?” He asked, turning on his side to look at her.

“I think my butt is going to bruise,” she giggled. “Are you alright?”

“M’hip is definitely going t’be sore, but m’fine,” he assured her.

They continued laughing at one another and the situation. The sound felt foreign to Harry and yet natural at the same time. It was a gorgeous sound, and she loved it so instantly that she wished she could record him and make it a ringtone every time he called and texted.

“You’re happy?” She asked once the sound of their laughter died long enough for her to speak.

Harry smiled and nodded. “God, Peach. Yeah. M’always happy around you.”

“Am I enough though?” She asked. Her voice sounded happy, positive. The way it always did. But it broke his heart to know she felt she had to ask.

Harry said he didn't hate the men she dated in the time he knew her, but right then he did. He hated every man that ever made her feel small. Hated the way they made her feel like she wasn't enough and that she was this burden or something. But he was so glad they felt that way because it led her right to him. “You’re more than I could ever imagine, Peach.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @boopookie @indierockgirrl @stylesfever @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @mads3502

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl @emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10 @tulips4harry @sturnrc @sassamanda77 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mp-269 @jmp1494 @fangirl509east @sideboobrry11 @drewrry @dutchtheatrelore @copiastricycle @mypolicemanharryyy @harry2121

[elliesfreckle]

over & out | radio au |

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📟 : record two 𖣠 white noise and wrong stars

⏯ synopsis : you’re a voice on the other side of the radio. she’s your wrong frequency — a mistake. a fortune, maybe, at the edge of a devastated world. you never told her your name. she never asked what you looked like. but when the nights get colder, in a world full of silence, you keep talking.

⏯ pairing : ellie williams & fem!reader

⏯ content warning : swearing; canon tlou after outbreak world; idk and prob edit it later

⏯ word count : 4.7k

⏯ a/n : HELLO we did it! today is the day! i have passed (away) the exam (two more left)! wont say much 'cause i died while proofreading, editing and uploading this shi on tumblr. and im REALLY sorry if there are so many stupid mistakes that you'll ban me forever. trust me i hate being perfectly literate in my native language while writing english like a 9 year old boy. but! i have to thank you all for how gently you embraced this idea and for your support. special shoutout to @losing-it-lately youre SO SWEET, and i loved that crazy night talk.

promise ill learn how to make posts prettier, maybe even create a masterlist and a playlist. flirty reminder that your reblogs and comments feed my soul

also if you wanna be tagged in the next chapter, let me know. for now, enjoy ♡

The one constant thing about the broadcast room in the Great Falls quarantine zone is that it’s freezing cold no matter what. This chill has been dwelling deep inside your bones for years. Not the kind that bites, but the kind that settles over your skin like a breath held too long.

And yet, sometimes you keep forgetting to bring a threadbare sweater on your night shifts. Like tonight. But there are nights in which you don’t need any of it, because the world you’re forced to live in doesn’t let you feel comfort too often. It wants you to keep in mind that given life is fragile, and might be taken back whenever the world pleases. Your blood runs cold every time the sent patrols go silent.

Like tonight, again.

Outside the narrow window, evening fades away and coming night stretches wide and endless, clinging to window frame like wet lining. The air has that strange, waiting stillness—too quiet, too heavy—that lingers in your lungs and makes it hard to breathe. Crickets hum faintly in the grass (you can hear them even from your radio cell on the highest floor), but even they sound unsure, like something’s pressing down on them from above. Birds are hovering in the low sky, almost bruising tree crowns with their angled wings. Their calls warn you. A bug cracks with all its tiny power into the glass of the windowpane, attracted by the lamp’s light. You flinch.

The pine trees don’t move. Not yet.

They stand stiff and dark against the horizon, their needles limp in the air, knowing what’s coming.

You can feel it too—not in sound, but in pressure, like something biding just beyond the edge of hearing. For days, the weather’s been thick with it—heat that doesn’t lift even after sunset, that makes the floors sweat and tempers run short. Checking the weather is one of your responsibilities too—radio signals are capricious with changes in the air, and with years it became a sense, not a science. You’ve learned that from the specific shapes of clouds—or their absence, the shade that sun has at the dawn; you’ve been watching birds and stray cats, as they are the first early harbingers of storms. You like to think they share sacred knowledge with you. Leaving your post on grey mornings, you can tell if it’s going to rain just by looking at the dew. And that definitely won’t be modest to claim that you have some skills in handling forecasting tools. Smartass, they call you.

So now you keep thinking the sky will crack open and bleed it all out.

But it doesn’t. Not yet.

The radio crackles softly beside you, calming like an old friend, warming like embers popping in a dying fire. Yes, in four walls of the radio station there is still cold.

And still no sign of the patrol.

You lean forward, elbow on the desk, the familiar ache of exhaustion in your shoulders. Something’s telling you it’s going to be a long shift. The transmission button is worn smooth, paint rubbed away years ago by hands just like yours, probably older. The headset squeezes your head—a relic that somehow survived the outbreak. You forgive it the discomfort. Most nights. You adjust it out of habit—the ear padding still crooked from the last shift.

You press the button down.

“This is Homebase calling AA40B. Do you copy?” A heartbeat-long pause. “AA40B, check-in, you’re two hours overdue. Report your position.”

You count to five. Then ten. Dead air. This is the first radio term you ever learned—not from a book, not from a manual, but in the heavy silence beside someone older, more practiced. You must’ve been sixteen. Maybe younger. Watching, listening and realizing that sometimes, absence speaks louder than any broadcast.

Dead air means something has gone wrong. Someone important, who never spoke through the white noise again.

It stays with you—static coiling around your ribs, slow and taut like wire. You’ve never forgotten the weight of it, because now it’s here again.

Flipping to a fresh page in the logbook, you scribble the call sign again, even though the page already looks like a graveyard of unanswered calls:

18:04 — AA40B — 94.7MHz — Received scheduled check-in from AA40B. Background static, but no incidents reported.

18:15 — AA40B — 94.7MHz — Attempted contact with AA40B. Negative. Assumed out of range unit. Logged for follow-up.

18:24 — AA40B — 94.7MHz — Logged inactivity. Next scheduled check-in ???

20:02 — AA40B — 94.7MHz — No response.

Silence. It is always about silence at the end. You’ve faced the same ends of different stories too many times. However, you’re just a radio operator, aren’t you? A messenger. The one whose face people barely remember. They know you for your voice. They hate you for it; they hate to hear it in moments of another acknowledgement of things going wrong. But this is not your fault, right? You receive news—then you report. Bad news—report. No news? Report. So you file the report like always. No sirens. No raised voices. Just protocol, neat and quiet. Loss isn’t rare enough to stop the day. Or night. Collateral damage, they call it. Lives.

The last entry in the logbook is smudged—ink dragged by the heel of your palm in a moment of distraction. You underline the status. Twice. You want to breathe, really breathe. Tear off the headset, heavy and too tight; let your pulse settle in open air, feel your shoulders drop for once. Shake off the weight of duty.

But protocol says stay.

So you do.

Anchored in your chair (as old as the headset), waiting for something. Or nothing.

The clock on the wall is old, its plastic yellowed with age, but it still ticks with rude efficiency. Every second lands like a drop of water in an empty basin.

You count minutes by it — minutes left until the next scheduled check-in. The last one for the night. The one you’re not expecting to go any differently.

A small glass jar sits near the base of the radio, filled with dried wildflowers you picked earlier that summer. Yarrow, tansy, bluebells gone brittle in the heat. It doesn’t belong here—not among the grey buttons, frayed wires, and institutional gloom—but you brought it anyway. Something to look at while the hours crawl.

You clear your throat. You don’t bother sounding official anymore.

“This is Homebase. Again. Check-in.” You swirl a faded yellow petal in your fingers. Squeeze it until your fingertips are covered with its sticky powder. “I repeat—AA40B, answer my call. Report the situation. Have you got any troubles? This is channel ninety-four point seven, if you’re suddenly unaware. Be advised, Lisa, if you don’t respond your mother will fucking murder me. Slowly.”

You let the words trail off, resting your fingers lightly on the worn edge of the desk.

The kind of joke born from routine.

Lisa and you had planned to grab dinner after her shift next week—you weren’t close; maybe you would’ve been. It was supposed to be the first. A small thing. And now just…undone. Silence folds back over the room like a heavy blanket. Your peripheral vision catches something alike with a flick of lightning far away. Just a second that might be a play of your overwhelmed mind. Just a second. Then—

Click.

Soft; barely there. But unmistakable—not static. Not interference.

Someone pressed something.

Your body reacts before your mind does—a tightening in the chest, a shift in the gut. The way this familiar frequency is talking to you now: you can recognize its hiss among the thousands of others. And this one is totally different. Something unusual is happening.

This isn’t protocol, isn’t your patrol.

And there’s no call sign.

Just a breath, maybe. A small, ambient shuffle of noise—a movement. Someone is there. And then, at last—a voice cuts through. You will think about it many times later; you’ll try to replay this moment like an old tape, always returning to the second she spoke to you. You will lie for that voice. And you will—

“Who the hell is Lisa? And…who the hell are you?”

A beat. Long pause. The silence stretches, tense, uncertain. She’s close to the mic. No headset, no filter. Unmistakably not Lisa. But someone who’s used to surviving, not asking questions.

The voice doesn’t match anything you were expecting—sharp and low, with a slow drawl that sounds like it's been roughened by time and too many cold mornings. She doesn't sound scared, but she sure as hell sounds like someone who’s ready to pull a knife if you so much as breathe wrong. And as for your breathe…it’s more than wrong. Something about her makes you sit up straighter. You glance down at the console, thumb hovering over the mic: 94.7.

That should be right. That’s the patrol’s frequency; it has been for months. You double-check the band anyway, twisting the dial just enough to hear the edge of the next channel before snapping it back.

How the hell—?

Maybe the storm’s fucking up with the signals. That happens sometimes. Reflections bouncing off mountains. Electromagnetic interference. Whatever excuse science likes to throw at you when something strange happens in the middle of the goddamn night.

Your understanding of fate is called science.

“Are you ghosting me now?” Your stomach dips with another question from her. You forgot to reply. Do you really have to do it? Probably not. But damn—curiosity and boredom are louder than reason. And you want it. Badly.

You clear your throat, shift your weight in the creaky chair, and press the button.

“Uhm…Hello.” Suddenly, you don’t know what to say. You—the person who spent years talking to strangers over the radio—and now you’re mute. “I’m here. But you’re not supposed to be on this channel, are you?”

A soft scrape of fabric brushes the mic—like something is shifting on the other edge. Another pause. You can hear the smile in her voice before she even speaks.

“Nope. Definitely not.”

Her voice sounds younger now, almost smug. The way she says it—calm, sure, like she has a knife in one hand and her finger on the trigger with the other, makes your pulse skip. Calm. Dry. Like she’s holding back either a laugh or a warning. On the edge of your mind you wonder how old she is. Could you be peers? Some people define age by looking at someone’s palms. Your trained hearing doesn’t require watching to see things.

You pull a thin blanket tighter around your shoulders; you keep it here special for night shifts and instead of forgotten jackets. Moths ate through its fabric; holes stare at you like frightened eyes or twisted mouths.

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the low hum of the equipment, the way twilight sky is fading navy, and your lamp is the only source of light. There’s no one else in the room: just you, just her. And the strange, thin thread of static connecting your two points of the map.

She doesn’t break the silence again, allowing you to take your time and think. Lead the dialogue or end it. She gives you choice.

You don’t even know her name.

But somehow, in this moment, that feels like the least important part.

“So…first of all, I must ask: do you need any urgent help?”

The question comes out too formal, like you’re reading off protocol.

“Do I sound like I need help?” The mic chuckles faintly with the sound of her voice. You knew the answer, but you had to ask. Just in case.

“Right now I’m not sure if I should answer at all,” you say. Does she hear the smile curving in the corners of your lips? “You’re not in danger, looking for signal to save you?”

“Save me? No way.” Her tone dips low, husky at the edges. A pause. There’s a smirk—quick and barbed—but it doesn’t soften fully. You figure out that she speaks like someone who’s used to being heard but never really listened to; that happens to people who don’t speak much.

Each of her words clipped just enough to sound in control, laced with amusement sharp around it. There’s warmth in it, sure, but distant warmth, like fire through glass. You catch the tail end of a sigh. “I’m fine. No danger. And even if I were, what’d you do? Send a helicopter?”

This. Even in her irony, something stays braced, like she’s talking with her back still against the wall.

You huff a soft laugh. Involuntary. You better think on what the hell you are even doing. You better think twice before the answer. But you choose to play her game.

“Just a helicopter? I have a whole rescue team for losers like you.” probably you don’t think even once, replying.

“Enjoy saving losers?” She baits.

“I’m here daily for it.” You bite.

She doesn’t miss a beat.

“What ‘bout nights?”

You lean back slightly, flexing your aching fingers. The headset hums with a tiny echo of her voice and some static. There’s a rhythm forming here—and it isn’t protocol. You’re treading on thin ice. Almost dancing.

You glance at the faint, flickering bulb above you—the only company in this concrete box you’ve half-started calling home. The air smells like warm dust and coil-burned wire. Silence is hovering, like she’s waiting for you to laugh or shoot back some banter, because she has no idea how long it’s been since anyone spoke to you like that.

Your finger lingers over the transmit button. You press it, slower this time.

“Nights are for ghosts and dead batteries,” you realize how desperate that must’ve sounded, and add, “You fit right in.”

The girl scoffs. You’re not sure if she’s smiling or offended. Or just listening. A low crackle fills the space between you. If you close your eyes, will she remain on the border of your signal? Or will she vanish into the white noise?

You don’t want to know, so your eyes are open. Surreal night.

The connection falls quiet again. That particular silence that means someone is thinking. You interrupt it with another question:

“How did you catch this frequency?”

The response comes, broken and crackling:

“By random? I was—”

The rest is swallowed by static. Not loud, but needling. Noise spilling through the line like wind through the flung open window.

You wait, leaning toward the console, squinting as if that might help decipher the pattern in the interference. You try again, more precisely this time.

“Take on the headset. Your sound is shit.”

A pause. Some fumbling on her end. You hear what might be a soft grunt, the clang of something metal.

“Didn’t think it’d make any difference,” she mutters, half-off mic. “Hold on… I don’t see any— Oh. Here it is. Looks terrible.”

Only God knows what’s going on over there. Something to do with wires and dust, maybe. There is a clumsy thud, then a hiss, then the faintest muttered curse. Whatever it is—they’re putting up one hell of a fight. You smirk silently.

Finally, a low rustle, then—click.

“Well. Fine. Do you hear me now?”

And just like that, you do. You almost regret the suggestion.

Her voice lands crisp, close—like it’s suddenly right behind your ear, not scattered across states. The line is clear enough to catch the curve of her vowels, the scrape of dry amusement under the words.

Oh, you do.

It’s the kind of voice that makes you forget the question. The kind that holds back more than it gives—something low, a little rough, but sharpened and steady, like she’s watching you through the wire and dares you to blink first.

So you blink. Swallow.

“Yes.”

No more, no less. You decide to keep your freaky thoughts to yourself.

She hums, then moves: now you can hear it perfectly well, trying to imagine this natural movement. You fail.

A shift in your seat, the chair creaks. The room suddenly feels smaller. Warmer?

She’s the first to speak.

“What’s with your, how did you call it, AA40C?”

You correct her out of habit—and to buy time.

“Forty-B.”

A beat. Your ink-stained finger hovers the transmit button a moment too long. The clock mocks you—shame prickles beneath your collar. You’d completely lost track of time. And of the patrol.

“I can’t share this information with someone from beyond.”

You hesitate to call her a stranger. You must be losing your fucking mind. You add a half-smile into the mic, though she can’t see it. The words aren’t harsh, but there is a line in them—clear, official, practiced. One you’ve been taught to hold. You almost feel like apologizing—which is absurd. Unfamiliar. Not like you.

Her reply is quick, clipped.

“Fair enough.”

But something in her tone curls at the edge. Like she’s testing you, just to see how far the signal stretches. It’s not like she’s interested in all your military secrets, but like she has some interest in you. Or you’re just fantasizing things.

Her voice lingers in the headset—that grainy warmth, half static, half smirk. She doesn’t let it drop.

“Where are you talking from then?”

You freeze for a breath. The words are simple, innocent-sounding, but they land sharp. You’re not supposed to—

“I can’t—“

“Jesus. C'mon.” A scoff, close to the mic. Her voice crackles at the edges. “Such coincidences happen once in a lifetime. Ain’t you curious?”

You are, and this is the problem.

You hesitate, eyes fixed on the dull glow of the frequency dial. You’ve followed protocol a hundred times before. But it doesn’t feel like protocol—not anymore. You tell yourself it’s fine. Montana’s a big place. Nobody would guess.

“Ugh… Montana.”

There’s a bit of silence on the other end, then a click of her tongue.

“That’s it?”

“What?”

“Girl, you're so fucking paranoid.”

You huff through your nose—not quite a laugh. She’s not wrong. You hadn’t realized how tight you were holding the line—like names could unravel something if spoken too clearly.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” you answer, steadier than you feel. “It’s safer. For both of us.”

“Let it be.”

There’s a shift in her tone that might come with leaning back, chin tilted, daring you.

“Then you can call me…” A beat. A mock-dramatic sigh. “Damn Jackson.”

You blink at the console, then laugh before you can stop it. It catches in your throat. The name drops like a pebble in a well. Small, almost casual. Echoing. You know the name. Most do. A settlement too far south. Rumored to be peaceful. Overgrown with good soil and better people. Rumored, at least.

You let yourself savor the answer. Like you need to place her somewhere on a map just to stay grounded. Small details start to shape her features in your mind.

“Jackson’s not even a state, dumbass.”

“Wyoming doesn’t sound cool at all.”

Her voice flattens with false seriousness. You imagine a shrug. A smirk, maybe. Something self-aware but distant—like she’s drawing lines in the sand just to rub them out a moment later.

The words slip out without thinking.

“It kinda does.”

Are you still talking about names?

You slightly frown, eyes scanning your table, though there’s nothing to see. You raise an eyebrow.

“And why would you tell me your place?”

“It’s not really mine, is it?” A pause. “Just a name.”

You bite your lip. She’s still playing. Still keeping her real cards hidden, just like you. But the word Jackson settles into your memory heavy. Like it matters.

Like you’ll be writing it down later, in a space not meant for records.

There’s a lull again. Not awkward—just stretched thin. Like neither of you wants to admit the conversation has no more ground to stand on.

You glance at the clock. It’s later than you’d thought. Your logbook lies open beside you, the last line still unfinished.

“You should go,” you say, your voice barely above a breath.

You don’t add what you’ve begun to notice—how her breathing has slowed between sentences, how the edges of her voice soften, just slightly, like the weight of the night is finally catching up to her.

She’s clearly not home.

Not even on watch. Just… out there.

Wherever she is, it’s not where she’s supposed to be. You hear it in the way she pauses more often now; in how the static doesn’t quite hide her quiet exhale. The kind people let out only when they’ve been running too long.

She’s lost. For now.

And somehow, you don’t want to keep her any longer. Not out of duty—but because something in you wants her to rest. Just a few hours. Just until dawn.

Even if you’ll never know where she lays her head.

Even if she never calls again.

“You gonna report me?”

It’s half a joke. Maybe.

You answer before thinking.

“Not if you promise not to show up again.”

Do you want her to show up again? That’s another question. The one you’re not going to think on.

“Harsh.” You hear her shift—maybe the creak of a table beneath her elbow. “Guess I’ll just get lost then.”

Her tone is light, but something flickers underneath.

You hesitate, then add—

“Batteries don’t last forever anyway.”

That earns you a breath of static shaped like a laugh.

“Neither do ghosts.”

The silence that follows is different. Not quite goodbye. Just long enough to say something without needing words. The button waits beneath your touch, untouched. You sigh.

“Well, Jackson. Over and out?”

You try to make it sound casual, like it doesn’t matter if she answers.

But she snorts — soft, amused.

“What does that mean?”

“Uhmm… it’s like ‘bye’ in radio slang. Some kind of etiquette.”

Another pause. This one warmer.

“Then over and out, Montana.”

You smile—not that she can see it. But feel, maybe.

Your hand slips from the button. You expect silence. Expect her to vanish into space, like she was never there.

But then, you remember something:

“Oh. Wait.”

There’s a second you think she’s gone. You hold your breath, unintentionally. Your knuckles brush the edge of the transmitter, hesitating. Her voice comes through quiet, no louder than an exhale.

“Yeah?”

“Storm’s coming. Stay safe.”

You wait—half-expecting her to follow it with a joke, or some snide comment about the clear skies.

But she doesn’t. You wonder if she hears it too—that strange pressure in the air. That breathless weight.

Her answer is simple.

“I will.”

And somehow… that’s enough.

The line goes quiet. Not with a pop or sudden crackle—just…softer. As if her breath was still caught in the waves of signals, and then even that lets go. An act of disappearing without curtain call.

You don’t realize how much noise she’d brought with her until it’s gone.

Now there’s only the faint hum of the equipment; the low buzz in your skull, and underneath it—a hush that finally feels real. It presses against your ribs. Wraps around the base of your neck. Heavy, still. Known.

You lean back slowly, letting the weight of it all settle in. Shoulders drop, the holey blanket slips onto the floor—loud in the absence of her voice. Your body reminds you that it’s late. That your eyes sting. You haven’t moved for too long. And you sit there, still, another minute, or maybe more. You don’t know why.

You haven’t touched the dial since she stopped talking. Since that sharp and guarded voice cut through the wrong frequency and landed in your hands like something not meant to be held.

You should log it.

You should log everything.

You reach for the journal and stare at it for a long time. The pen dangles on a piece of string, tied to the corner of the desk. You’ve lost too many not to do it this way. It hovers in your hand. No idea what to write. A few entries above, your own writing stares back at you—neat, all-caps block letters. You draw a line underneath it, slow, deliberate. Then glance back at the console, the frequency is still open. But she’s gone. You press the pen to the paper.

20:27 — Unknown signal —

You pause, biting your lip. Hell. No words come. You don’t write what she said. Or what you said back. Instead, you cross this line out and turn to the next page. A blank one, cleaner. Further from truth.

20:28 — atmospheric interference — ghost frequency spill. No contact established.

You underline it once; like that will make it true. Then you flip the page, just in case someone else reads it in the morning.

You know it’s not procedure. But you also know how it works: unofficial frequencies are monitored sometimes. If the others find out you spoke to someone from another city—someone who shouldn’t have been there—they’ll shut it down. Change the band. Pull your shift. Maybe worse.

You close the book and push it at the edge of the desk. Your fingers tingle, thumb is awkwardly ink-stained as before. You don’t bother to wipe it. Just tilt your head back and close your eyes.

The silence hums, her voice lingering in your mind—

and it’s yours to keep.

Ellie doesn’t remember the walk back.

Morning mist obscures the sound of her steps, hides her uneven silhouette. She’s smoke, a breath of wind in the ferns. She’s at the edge of there and nowhere.

By the time she’s near the gates behind the west trail, the trees whisper above, restless with the wind that hadn’t been there an hour ago. She swears it wasn't. Light spills over the treeline—pale and uncertain, like it’s not sure it should be here yet.

Jackson's lights bloom like low, tired fireflies. The gates creak open just past dawn. Someone nods to Ellie from the watchtower. She lifts a hand, doesn’t stop walking.

As she reaches home, the door groans as she pushes it open. Inside, the air is still—cooler than outside. Ellie doesn’t bother turning on the light. Her shoes leave dark shapes on the floor, soles soaked from dirt. She shrugs off the backpack, peels off the outer jacket, and kicks at her converse until one tumbles sideways and stays that way. No sign of Joel. She doesn’t check. The weight of everything settles in the quiet. The shirt—one of her favorites—clings to her back, damp with sweat and dust. She scratches at her wrist, smearing a thin line of dried mud. She’ll shower later. Maybe. Exhaustion pulls her to the ground.

She has a couple of hours before they will need her.

Ellie sinks onto the couch like the bones have gone out of her. Face-down, arm tucked under her head, too tired to change. Her knuckles sting a little—a scraped corner from earlier—but it barely registers. Her brain floats somewhere shallow. Not asleep. Not fully awake. Just drifting.

She blinks once. Twice. Between those blinks, a voice brushes the edge of her thoughts, like a skipped page in a journal. It’s not clear at first—just a wordless shape, like a whisper behind closed doors. But then it forms: “you’re not supposed to be on this channel, are you?”

Ellie doesn’t smile. But she doesn’t not smile either.

She hears it before she sees it—the soft tap-tap-tap on the glass. That type of rain that starts tentative, as if asking permission. She turns her head, watches the droplets race each other down the pane.

Ellie exhales, low and long, and lets her eyes close.

The storm came after all.

[prinzrupprecht]

Hello, I would like an order for Ror Yandere Hades, Poseidon, Loki and Apollo with Anubis female version with the personality of Helaena Targaryen and being super overprotected because she gets lost and is autistic with ADHD, please.

Yes, this request is interesting since Halaena Targargyn’s is one of my favs from HoTD, so I’ll try to make a good interpretation on these characters. I prob fucked up Poseidon… sorry. :(

Loki

This man would not let you out of his sight, he knows how naive you are.

When you do accidentally find his secret room and a doll that looks like you. Your mind couldn’t handle the thought of why he had that and as you tried to panic and leave, he even stopped you and refused you from leaving his palace.

He normally would shape shift into cats or other animals to stalk you whenever you’re reading or wandering around.

If someone tried to take your attention from him, even to ask you for your assistance in something, he would rudely dismiss them while you stand there puzzled and confused.

As you struggle with social interactions and being near others, Loki would always be the one to speak for you even if he says out of line phrases that you would never say.

You also have a huge habit of watching bugs in the garden and sometimes would accidentally wander too far in Odin’s garden before Loki could find you and bring you back. You had always wondered how he always finds you. Maybe he was nearby?

Apollo

Apollo normally appears as an extremely narcissistic individual who never was loyal to any of his lovers, until he first laid his eyes upon you as the goddess of funerals and burials. He had to nearly beg you to get to know him, even if you preferred to be alone and to be withdrawn from everyone.

Whenever others don’t fit his standards of beauty, he looks down on them even if you’re standing beside him as he berates some of the maids and or servants in the Olympus palace.

He would always act dramatic and rant to you about his long day arguing with his servants if they don’t do things his way, Apollo gets agitated. You tend to always listen and speak if you’re asked to.

Whenever he goes to have his baths, he always puts pressure on you to join him. You felt like you had no say in the matter and agreed to these occasional baths with him.

Whenever you tried to wander the palace alone, Apollo would scold you about leaving without telling him because of how easy it was to get lost in the palace. You could go days without seeing a single person sometimes. Apollo always told you to tell him if you were going somewhere so he would be the one to accompany you. This was something that made you weirded out at first but you never questioned him.

You preferred being in solitude without Apollo rambling nonsense about his day. He was too attached to your company to let you out of his sight. If he wants a bath, you’d have to join him. It was nearly impossible to get away from him at times. He even dropped the harem of girls because he was obsessed with you.

When Adamas tried to hurt you one evening while you got lost in the wrong wing of the palace, you had thought you were alone since you left Apollo’s room without telling him. However, Apollo was already quick to tell Adamas to leave and that he was sorry for disturbing him. Apollo wasn’t mad, but he doesn’t like the thought of someone trying to hurt you and he’s not there to protect you.

Hades

The King of the Netherworld wasn’t one to find a soulmate considering he was too busy ruling Helheim, until he saw you one day in the garden of Eve with Lucifer, Azazel and Samuel stealing apples which was forbidden, however, he didn’t care about that. He rarely goes to that place but something about you intrigued him and lured him. You? An Egyptian goddess of funerals hanging out with them? He wanted to scoff knowing you could do better, with someone like him.

He knew of you, but you rarely appeared during council meetings because of how sensitive the topics were. You didn’t like the thought of destroying entire species. You took care of the dead your own way.

You mostly kept to yourself and found the littlest things more amusing to you like ants on the ground. Hades had wondered why he watched you for so long.

The moment he finally caught your attention, you looked dumbfounded at his presence while the three angles were kneeling. You were socially distant from your interaction with the Netherworld king many times before. However, he quickly declared that you walk with him in Helheim.

As reluctant as you were, Hades saw how nervous and fidgety you were around him due to his status as a chief god. He quickly asked if you’d stay with him in his empty palace and promised you his protection. You quickly thought of saying no to that suggestion, however, how could you decline that? You had your own routine and duties as the goddess of funerals. Hades promised you’d continue your usual activities only if you’d accompany him whenever he wanted. Helheim was a dangerous place where demons dwell and he would kill any demon that tries to harm you.

Whenever, you tried to travel around his castle alone or the number of times you got lost finding your away around, Hades would quickly find you and tell you to stay with him in his room instead. He even offered his entire library to you if you wanted to read. Even if you’d rather be alone, his presence was enough to make you obey him.

Poseidon

This man rarely talks, and mostly glares at others. His cold exterior told you otherwise to just avoid him and to never interact with him. However, as you thought he had no emotions, you were completely wrong by this. He loves his brothers and even shows you respect by not calling you a bottom feeder like he does with other gods.

He saw how Zeus was being a pervert and was spying on you in the baths and scolded him which nearly pissed off the ocean tyrant because of his younger brother’s unpleasant nature of being a pervert.

You were just an outside guest of the Egyptian pantheon and were asked personally by Poseidon to accompany him in his hall. Which was a long table and he sat at one end. He questioned you, your intentions, why you were even at the Olympus palace and other things. You were incredibly nervous and thought you were going to die. He tried walking towards you as you were squeezing your eyes shut while fidgeting with your fingers.

You were something that interested you but he couldn’t put forth as to why. Was it your personality? Or how much you prefer to be alone like him? When Adamas tried to harm you, things didn’t end well for him. Let’s say he tried to attack Poseidon the same day as well nearly killing him.

He didn’t like how much you’d rather leave when you tried to dismiss yourself. He refused to let you leave and told you to stay with him for just a bit longer. This was the longest you ever heard him speak. He was definitely more quiet when he’s with his brothers.

Even as nervous as you seem to be, you were easy to obey him.

[shinakazami1]

I want to remind folks that in Handsome Jack AMA for IGN that I've transcripted, Jack said he also goes full commando.

Rhys won't be able to drop the Handsome fanboy allegations.

EW? I hate you rizz strongfreak

[saltcxrcle]

boyfriend headcanons ⟡ s. winchester

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x gn! reader

word count: 1.2K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', fluff, a smidge of angst in the beginning, some suggestive content, no smut, lowercase intended

a/n: i will make a dean version and probs a pt. 2 for sammy if I come up with some more headcanons! also did not expect this to be as long as it became lol

please enjoy and reblog and comment! i love hearing your thoughts.

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

⟡ some fears before dating you

before you got into a relationship with sam, he was very hesitant about dating or liking anyone romantically (he knows that he doesn’t have the best track record with love) 

but when you came into his life, you broke down those barriers (without him realizing it), and he became more accepting of his feelings for you (even if it scared him shitless) 

you had to drill into his head that whatever happened to you would never be his fault bc you knew he’d drown in his guilt if you got hurt or worse. it took time for him to accept that something would happen to you that it wasn’t his fault 

okay, now onto the more happy stuff (sorry didn’t mean to start with the more heavy stuff, lol) 

⟡ the actual headcanons 

he’s the best partner ever!! 

sam has a big heart and holds a lot of love for you, and though he can be hesitant to say the words for fear of jinxing the relationship (he’s superstitious about it), he shows how much he loves you through his actions! 

he would have a mix of all of the love languages (obviously, everyone shows a mix of them), but his top three would definitely be quality time, acts of service, and physical touch 

⟡ physical touch 

i think that early seasons sam would be much more tactical with his touch and showing you physical affection 

would use any and every excuse in the handbook to touch you in some way. resting a hand on your shoulder, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear or forehead, etc. 

but post szn 5 and 12 sam, he would shy away from it at first, and you would totally understand and let him take the approach first, never initiating it until he feels like he can handle it 

but this goes hand in hand with PDA  in any szn, he’s not big on PDA he’s okay with hand-holding and pecks on the lips, temple, or cheeks but not overt displays of affection but behind closed doors, it's free reign for him  aside from the PDA 

he LOVES getting his hair played with  like without a shadow of a doubt, i know in my heart of hearts that sam winchester is a fiend for getting his hair played with 

is a cuddle bug  doesn’t matter if it’s sweltering hot; he loves to have you in his arms no matter what secretly loves when it gets cold, you seek him out for warmth (he’s like a space heater from how much he radiates heat) 

FOREHEAD AND NECK KISSES!! (and lots of them) LOVES kissing you  there will be times when sam wants to make out with you in the back of the Impala. either to piss off dean or because you get no privacy in the motel room, you’re sharing with his brother. 

is the best hugger ever. it’s almost criminal how his arms can wrap around you and engulf your body and instill a feeling of safety in you, like no one could hurt you while you were in sam’s arms.

⟡ acts of service

as i’ve stated above, sam doesn’t express his love through words, but he does show it through his actions 

he knows all of your fav movies, flowers, music, snacks, how you like your coffee/tea, etc 

he actively listens to you and keeps track of the things you mention (he has them written down or in a note on his phone) and just pulls this information out when he needs it

will do things if asked of him by you without question (but within reason, lmao) 

(this also translates into fun times in the bedroom, LMAO)

don't know if this counts as an act of service, but sam loves putting things on the top self on purpose (to see you struggle a bit bc he thinks your pout is so adorable), but so you can ask him to get something for you, and does so with a smile on his face 

⟡ quality time

would use any excuse to spend time with you 

doesn’t matter if he just came back from a hunt and is exhausted; he would sit down and listen to you talk about what you had just read or what movie you watched while he was on a hunt 

will actively plan dates with you on hunts if he has downtime, which would most of the time be in the car with Dean and asking him for help or input  "they'll like whatever you plan for them. now, for the love of god, please shut up!" (sam had been pestering dean most of the car ride home about where to take you on the first date and was fed up with his little brother)

having movie nights!

spending time in either his or your room reading or just basking in the presence of each other, content with sitting in silence, grounding him with your touch as you guys fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

late-night conversations in bed! more often than not, your pillow talk with sam would turn into very late-night conversations and sometimes even turning into early-morning chats.

⟡ protective

this is a given, but sam is so protective of you that it can be a problem at times

He doesn’t mean to be overbearing, but his mind is an overactive one and can be a little (a lot) protective of you 

I think if you were a hunter, he’d be such a worrywart because he knows what this life does to someone and kinda hates that you are one (even if this is how you guys met in the first place lol) 

but it’s the same if you’re not a hunter because he’d be paranoid that a monster would be out to get you if they knew you were even associated with him or his brother 

he’d take so many precautions: teaching you the basics of hunting (but making you promise that you won’t go out and hunt), teaching you self-defense, gifting you an anti-possession charm (or going with you if you want the tattoo), painting demon traps under your rugs, salting windows, and maybe even convincing you to move into the bunker with him 

⟡ some random ones 

wearing his clothes his chest warms and his heartbeats faster each time he sees you wear something of his he does go a little feral when he sees you wear nothing underneath his clothes unfiltered sassy sam before the two of you started to date, you would catch glimpses of sassy sam when he would banter with dean but when you started to dish out some of your quips in the conversation and being a smartass to him that's when the sassy man apocalypse hit him, and it snowballed into him out-sassing you sometimes when the two of you could get into a back-and-forth

teases you about your height  it doesn't matter if you're an inch shorter or a foot shorter than him; he can and will tease you about your height it brings him much amusement when you snap back with jokes of your own or when you blush when you don't have a snappy retort (yes, it means he has a size kink, but shhh, no one is supposed to know)

[mscherub]

Cuddles!

I know plenty of ppl have probs done this, but Azul’s Bday card is out so I’m going feral, he’s adorbs, so ima do some short ass headcanons for cuddling with the guys cause I’m bored, and it’s something to post for my lovely followers <3

Tags!: Cuddling, comfort, fluff

Warnings!:

My sense of humor

These are just headcanons

Heartslabyul; Savanaclaw; Octavinelle; Scarabia; (you’re here :3), Pomefiore; Ignihyde; Diasomnia

Riddle 👑:

Give him enough reassurance and he’ll do it

You two would kinda be in bed awkwardly while awake, just kinda…laying there, but the next morning he’d be tangled up in your arms without a care in the world

So…he likes it?

Clings to you, you’re holding him 95% of the time

Trey ♣️:

He doesn’t mind, he’s used to it, honestly

Probably cuddled up with younger siblings to help them sleep

Cuddles are warm and he prefers to hold you in his arms instead of the other way around, just how he likes things to be between the two of you, so don’t take any offense.

His face will be buried against the top of your head so

Cater ♦️:

He’s all for it, like, super stoked

Arms wrapped around you, head resting against yours, and…his phone behind you as he scrolls on magicam

If you want him to turn the phone off be extra nice, then he’ll consider it

He likes to put his hands under your shirt and put them against your back, skin to skin contact makes him feel fuzzy in a good way

He lives for cuddles, so provide them

Ace ❤️:

He’s likes it, but if you think anyone couldn’t be bad at cuddling, then meet Ace

He’d bug you to cuddle which is cute and all, but then when yall do, he has his arms wrapped around you but then he’ll eventually kick you away, complaining about it being “too hot” in his half sleep state

Oh, but now it’s too cold, so he goes back

You two kinda just end up laying close to each other

He steals blankets, beware

Deuce ♠️:

Awkward, stiff, just how I think he’d be

He’s like that causes he’s almost a little scared to disappoint you, for who knows what reasons, but whatever

You’d have to cuddle him first to get him to hold you back, it’s just a sign to him that it’s ok to even touch you

If he falls asleep before you, his grip won’t actually loosen, it will get a bit tighter around you

Leona 🦁:

I think we all know this one, anyways, yea, so he’s on top of you

He’d honestly like cuddling either way, you holding him or him holding you, but he prefers just laying on you

His head on your chest and his face buried in your neck, one leg thrown over yours and his arms wrapped around you, he likes this a lot better

He can sleep through anything, and he’s as still as a rock so good luck moving

Ruggie 💰:

He likes it but he also doesn’t, it’s kinda foreign

With where he grew up being alert was kinda the norm, but with cuddling he finds himself slipping! Tell him to take a chill pill

He’s all over you, though, too, clinging and keeping a firm grip around you

He likes to be held, actually, it’s nice

If he wakes up in the middle of the night to go get food, ignore him

Jack 🐺:

Also not used to it, but he secretly loves it, keeps it more hidden, though

He’s also kinda stiff…

He likes to hold you, just feels right, and his tail will betray his facial features as it almost bangs against the bed. Just ignore it

Speaking of tail, it’s fluffy, so if you ever get extra cold during the night, he could maybe just lay it over the lower half of you. Very useful!

Azul 🐙:

I fear I’m gonna say stiff to like half the characters, so, he’s stiff

He kinda prefers you to lay against him, it just feels a little better that way, and a little less embarrassing for him

During the night, just like an octopus would, subconsciously wraps his arms around you

When you wake up, the roles will be reversed with how yall went to bed

Jade 🫧:

For one, he gets overheated easily, so either that damn room is cold asf while he sleeps, or he sleeps with his covers off, or some other weird shit

I mean, it’s you, though, so he’ll endure the heat, but it’d still be very limited as to what yall even do

He finds you wanting to cuddle him funny, just is. It’s off what humans do when they sleep, but he gets the appeal

Just lay your head on his chest and I think that’s as far as yall will get

He doesn’t move around much. Not stiff per se, but he doesn’t move

Floyd 🫧:

He loves to squeeze so obviously he’s gonna love to cuddle you, and especially you cause you’re Shrimpy, duh

He’s gonna wrap himself all over you, and he won’t let up during the night. He gets an excuse to squeeze you so he’s not gonna pass it up

He moves around a lot in his sleep, but he will drag you with him. He falls to the floor in the middle of the night, then so do you

He drools. Have fun <3

Kalim ☀️:

Mans is happy, it’s like a sleepover, just closer, which he also loves. He’s maybe a bit too happy to cuddle, he’s smiling and giggling

He hangs on to you, and he’ll want you to do the same, it’s more nice that way

Being cuddled or being the person to cuddle the other, he doesn’t matter, loves it all

He also moves around a lot, he has energy, so just bear with him. Also he’ll probably gravitate away from you sometimes

He doesn’t mean it

Jamil 🐍:

He’s not quite fond of it, he’s busy, he has to wake up early, he “doesn’t have time for it.”

But…they are nice, and they help him sleep better, and they help him wake up feeling a lot better, especially getting to see your sleepy face. Yall he’s gaslighting himself

He prefers you to lay your head on his chest and kinda drape your arm over him. It’s a better position for him, and it also fights of the want to stay with you longer when he has to get up

Another guy who’s stiff, he gets a little more playable as he gets drowsier

Comments and likes are appreciated my lovelies <3

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[1d1195]

Neighbors Extra VIII

Read Neighbors here | ~3.6k words

From me: this will probs be the last of them for a while 💕 I know they're a fan favorite overall, but I hope you've enjoyed this little family as much as I have.

Warnings: grab your tissues it's a little emotional. mentions of throwing up, family dynamics, pregnancy and baby-talk

Summary: Rory is going to be the best big brother. But he's a little nervous about what this means for their family of three.

“Hi beautiful,” Harry grinned sweetly.

“I feel anything but beautiful.”

His smile turned to a frown instantly and he came over to the sweet girl and wrapped his arms around her. “Why’s that, kitten?”

“She’s sucking the life out of me,” she yawned. “Baby girl is draining me of my beauty or whatever that saying is,” she mumbled tiredly into his chest.

“She’s not,” he assured her. “Y’look stunning.”

“Don’t lie, Harry it’s not becoming, and it sets a bad example for Rory.”

“Will you?” He mumbled and kissed the top of her head. “Come sit down,” he ordered. “What do you want for dinner?”

“We can’t even talk about food, or I’ll throw up,” she promised. “Morning sickness has turned into afternoon and evening sickness at the mention of anything. Just put it in front of me and I’ll try,” she flopped onto the couch and rubbed her stomach. She was just starting to show a little more. A little under six months she was rounder than she had been, her complaints about clothes not fitting and feeling uncomfortable was beginning. But Harry was entranced by the movement watching the diamond on her fourth finger glitter with each pass of her hand along the baby inside her. He remembered the day he told him like it was yesterday. She was late, her cramps hadn’t made themselves known and she was craving pickles like she did with Rory despite the fact she didn’t like pickles at all.

Harry was overjoyed to say the least. He was pretty certain he had tears in his eyes while he kissed her pretty face, down her neck all the way to her stomach where he spoke softly to the little one already growing. “Hi little one,” he whispered. “Mummy and I love you t’bits,” he promised. “Be gentle with Mummy these next nine months, I love Mummy as much as you do.”

He sat beside her and rubbed the pressure point on her wrist that was connected to relieving nausea. “How was your day?”

“Good,” she smiled sighing as the relief in Harry’s ability to take her pain away (no matter how small) was like his own part time job. Harry couldn’t get over how stunning she looked, yes, her stomach was a bit fuller but that was mainly the only difference in Harry’s eyes. She would say her skin looked lackluster, her fingers felt swollen but the only thing Harry could see was how she was growing their baby and she looked gorgeous doing it. “How was yours?”

Harry sighed. He didn’t want to worry her, but Rory was still being a bit closed off. He’d been that way since they told the nine-year-old that there was a little sibling expected in several months’ time. They waited the full three months to make sure everything was up to snuff before they said anything. Rory was still the wonderful little boy he was. He did his little chores, his homework, he listened when they asked him to pick up or go to bed for the evening. There were very few arguments. While Rory was excited to have a sibling, he seemed to be resentful toward her and Harry.

She frowned. “I might try again.”

“Be my guest,” he shrugged. “Yesterday was no such luck.”

They figured perhaps it was some kind of pre-puberty thing. Maybe he was closing himself off from them because that’s what pre-teen and teenage boys did. She hoped it wouldn’t happen, Rory was her best friend, and they did everything together. She waddled to his room, knocking and opening the door. “Hi, love bug,” she smiled.

“Hi Mumma,” he said quietly while looking up from his gaming device with a gentle grin. “Is it dinner time?”

She fought the wave of nausea off at the mention of food and she shook her head. “No, not yet. How was school, cutie pie?”

“Good.”

She frowned. “Did you learn anything new?”

“No.”

She closed the door behind them. “Everything okay, Rory?” He nodded, turned back to his device and remained silent. She took a deep breath wondering what kind of magic Harry could work on him from his psych degree angle. “Baby, are you sure everything is okay? You’re not acting like yourself. Remember the last time this happened we had to take you to the hospital?”

He looked at her briefly and then his eyes dropped to her stomach. She could see the battle in his eyes of whether to say it or not. “You’re going to get mad at me. Or I’ll get in trouble.”

“Rory,” she pouted. “You have to tell me so I can help fix it. I won’t get mad at you, I can’t promise about the trouble, but you have to let me help. You can tell me anything, remember?”

He swallowed and looked a little glassy-eyed as he decided if he should say it or not. He took a deep breath, set his gaming device aside, and looked at her directly. “Do you have to have a baby?”

Her mouth popped open in surprise. Rory was so excited to have a sibling. He talked about helping all the time. He was helping pick out the decorations for the baby’s room and everything. They discussed all the changes that would be coming and how Rory was going to be a huge help in playing with her and making sure she learned all the important things she needed to know (like how to make s’mores and blow bubbles, of course). “Well... yes, Rory. Of course we do.”

“But...” he sighed then shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Baby,” she said tentatively. “Tell me what’s bothering you. You’re supposed to tell me everything. If you don’t tell me, you almost always tell Daddy,” she reminded him. “We’re worried you’re not telling us something.”

Rory was nine now. Which meant that he was trying to be a grown-up when he didn’t need to be. So, when his eyes started to water, he looked away and shook his head. “Harry’s not my dad,” he mumbled.

Her frown deepened and she went to sit on his bed. He turned to face away from her, curling in on himself a bit. She placed a hand on his side and rubbed gently. “What are you talking about, Rory? Of course he is.”

“But not really, Mumma,” he sniffed. “I know he loves me, but he’s...”

“Rory,” she whispered. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he sniffled a little louder. It broke her heart. Tears filled her eyes too and she was grateful he was facing away from him because she wasn’t sure she could console him and herself at the same time. Not with that little face she loved so much looking as crushed as he sounded in his voice. “Harry—”

“Dad,” she corrected. She knew that Rory used his real name and Dad interchangeably. But right then it seemed like he shouldn’t. Like he needed a reminder that Harry was his everything.

“Dad,” he mumbled. “Dad has never had a baby,” he reminded her.

“So?” She asked.

“What if he likes the baby more than me?” He sniffled. “What if the baby is better than me because she’s just like Harry? Or looks like Harry? What if the baby—”

“Rory James,” she gasped. “Stop it,” she ordered.

“But Mumma, I’m not Harry’s baby.”

“You are, my love. Of course you are. You would break his heart if he heard this.”

“It’s why I haven’t told you,” he mumbled into his pillow.

“Rory,” she repeated. “You are never to hide something from us. You know that.”

“But I don’t like upsetting you, Mumma. I know Harry loves me.”

“Daddy does love you,” her voice cracked as she spoke. “Fuck,” she whispered.

“That’s a bad word, Mumma.”

She felt nauseous for a whole new reason. “Harry!?” She called, her voice breaking as she walked toward the door. Within seconds Harry’s footsteps were heard nearly running down the hall. His eyes were concerned as he approached the door she was opening, and she had a hand on her chest trying to keep her heart inside her body.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, holding one of her hips and the other hand cupped her face. His eyes scanned her from head to toe. Seeing nothing concerning, he turned his attention to Rory, still facing away from everyone in his little bed and ascertained that nothing was physically wrong with either of them so he breathed a little easier.

“Can you go hold him?” She hiccupped as the tears started flowing more freely. She swiped them away. “I have to go throw up,” she sniffled and headed down the hall for the bathroom.

“Kitten—”

“Please,” she begged and closed the bathroom door.

After throwing up, she quickly hopped into the shower to rinse herself off. As fast as she could without being able to fully see her feet, she changed into some comfy pajamas and returned to the bedroom. There she found her much too tall husband in a child’s twin bed, sitting against the wall and holding Rory in his lap. It reminded her of when he held Rory during the car wash, Harry’s arms caged around him so protectively. He rocked Rory gently, kissed the top of his head while the little one sniffled as he cried into his shirt. “Y’okay, kitten?” He asked.

She nodded. “Did he tell you what was wrong?” She asked, climbing into the little bed too. Harry shook his head, his eyes sad with defeat. “Rory,” she whispered, rubbing his back as Harry soothed him. “Please tell Daddy what’s wrong. He’ll make it better, I promise. Think about all the times he’s made everything better,” she reminded him and reached out to brush his hair away from his teary eyes.

“I don’t want you to have a baby,” he blurted.

Harry’s eyes flicked to hers and she shook her head and wiped the corner of her eye. It didn’t have to do with the baby. That wasn’t even the important part of anything he had told her. But Harry pouted. She could see the psychoanalysis beginning. The theories and research he’d done for his degrees in classes on child development. All the reasons Rory could possibly be upset, and he had no idea that it wasn’t a single one of them. “M’sorry t’hear that Rory,” he mumbled into his hair. “S’a big change, yeah? Like when y’learned t’use the bathroom while stand—”

“No,” Rory shook his head. “It’s not that,” he croaked. Rory was so smart and knew that Harry was going to look for the psychological answer even if he couldn’t say it was psychological in nature.

Harry looked at her briefly. She looked on with so much hurt. Her eyes were a watery mess, her lower lip quivered; she was aching to let out the sob she felt. He didn’t understand what he was missing. He felt so terrible his two favorite people were so heartbroken and upset. It was awful. It felt like his chest was caving in. Was this what a heart attack felt like? It was miserable—maybe worse than a heart attack. He couldn’t be certain.

“Tell him, love bug, please,” she begged.

“You’re going to love the baby more than me,” his voice was so small. Smaller than her bubbly baby boy had ever been. She covered a hand over her mouth to stop the sob from breaking through.

“What?” He shook his head, and he pulled Rory away from him. He kept his eyes cast down, he knew boys weren’t supposed to cry like this unless they were really hurt. But Rory felt really hurt. “Rory James,” he whispered. Then he flicked his attention to the beautiful girl who was just as heartbroken as their son. Surely, he misheard him and misunderstood. Surely the little boy that filled every crevice in the space of his heart knew how much Harry adored him.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled hating the way his full name sounded in Harry’s mouth more than his mother’s. It was reserved for larger reprimanding—not that Rory needed much of it, he was perfect. But even still, Harry never said it. Ever.

“Rory,” he repeated softly. “That is crazy,” he promised, rubbing his thumbs on his little cheeks. Even if he wasn’t the little three-year-old he met in the driveway so long ago, he was always going to be little to Harry. “Rory, you’re m’best friend,” he reminded him. “How could y’think I would love anyone more than you?”

She was still crying hard behind her hand which made Harry realize there was still something he was missing. Something that was going to perhaps devastate the way he felt when he was already so upset. “Because the baby is going to be your baby.”

Harry was almost certain a heart attack would feel less awful at this point. “Rory, lad,” he sighed clutching him back to his chest. He kissed the top of his head. “S’horrible thing t’feel and say,” he felt like his voice was close to cracking. He wanted to cry as much as his wife and baby boy were. “You think m’not going t’love you as much because you’re not mine?” He nodded solemnly against Harry’s chest. “Rory, of course you’re mine. I love you more than anything in the world,” he reminded him. “You know that right?”

“But—”

“No buts,” he shook his head firmly. “Ever. You don’t question this, understand?”

“But—”

“No, Rory. This isn’t something y’get to cute your way out of. You’re my son and I will never love anyone or anything more than you. Get that out of your head,” he instructed.

“Okay,” he sniffled.

“You understand, right?” He repeated.

He nodded. “I understand,” he whispered.

“Mumma, y’okay?” Harry asked. She nodded, wiping her eyes.

She cleared her throat. “I’m good.”

“Alright, good,” Harry nodded. He didn’t let go of Rory but pulled her toward the pair of them. Harry moved the three of them to squeeze together on the tiny bed—Rory laying along the length of his body as he fit, and her beside him snuggled close without squishing the baby. Harry was certain the three of them were emotionally exhausted, so Harry made the executive decision to have them all get some sleep in before dinner.

*

“Daddy?” Rory asked.

“Hmm?” He hummed. Harry was doing some work at the table. Rory was skimming the newspaper for a news article to share with his class. She was making pancakes and chocolate milk for breakfast.

“Can baby hear us?”

He glanced up from his laptop and he peered at her near the stove. Her stomach was another month rounder now and things were a lot more normal now that they knew why Rory was so closed off. “Yeah, she can,” Harry nodded. “Do y’want to talk t’her?”

“Can I Mumma?” Rory asked.

“Of course,” she nodded. Harry walked over to the pretty woman that made every one of his dreams come true along with the little boy he adored more than anything. Harry crouched beside Rory and put his hand on her stomach. He rubbed his thumb on her shirt and smiled encouragingly at Rory.

“Go ahead, Rory,” Harry whispered.

“I don’t really know what to say,” he answered back.

“Just talk t’her, she already loves you. You’re going t’be her big brother,” Harry promised. “You’ll be the best big brother ever.”

It was quiet for a couple of moments while Rory thought it over. “Can I tell her about us?” He asked.

“Us?” She repeated.

“Like me, you, and Daddy,” he bit his lip.

“Yeah, you can tell her ‘bout us,” Harry looked on full of questions.  “Hi,” he whispered. “I’m Rory,” he put his hand on his mother’s stomach beside Harry’s. “Mumma didn’t eat you,” he explained. “I get that confused sometimes.” Harry smirked while she giggled above them. “She always says she’s going to eat cute babies though a lot so it might confuse you too,” he continued making Harry chuckle quietly while she rolled her eyes. “I’m your brother,” he told her. “We’re going to be best friends,” he promised. “I might not be good at sharing my toys sometimes, but I don’t mean it. Sometimes I won’t want to play, but that doesn’t mean I won’t love you. I’m going to love you a lot.”

Her eyes watered and Harry grinned brightly. “Mumma is really good to talk to when you’re sad or have questions. She always makes me feel better when I’m sick, helping with homework, and she’s really good at the hard levels of Mario Party,” he explained. “And she’s a girl so you’re going to have to play with her and do dress up and makeup or something. And she’ll show you how to use tampons,” she and Harry couldn’t contain their giggles.

“You forgot about craft time and s’mores,” Harry reminded him of his favorite lady.

“Oh yeah, Mumma is fun to play with on rainy days. And in the summer we eat s’mores until we get tummy aches.”

Harry grinned. “She’s the best little one,” he whispered to her stomach.

“Thanks boys,” she whispered trying not to cry harder than she was.

“Daddy is here too,” he told her stomach. “Daddy is the best too. He can blow really big bubbles and he loves to play board games. He won’t let anything happen to you in car washes or in thunderstorms and he knows Santa,” Harry was in awe of the little boy who was so scared that Harry could love someone more than him. Harry was a little worried he wouldn’t love the little girl enough. Well, not really, but it seemed impossible that he could love the little family he made like this and still have room for more. “Daddy is really smart too. He can teach you a lot about your brain and it’s really cool. He also knows where Mumma hides the good candy and he’ll share it at bedtime.”

“I knew it!”

“Rory!” Harry pouted.

He giggled. “I’m really excited to meet you. Mumma needs a girl to play with,” he explained. “I think we all do. And Daddy’s going to love us both—more than anything in the world.”

Harry nodded. “That’s true,” he agreed.

“He says he loves Mumma more than anything in the world too, but I think he might love us more.”

He chuckled. “Sorry, kitten,” he winked up at her.

“I’ll let it slide.”

“Mumma’s not a cat either. Daddy calls her that because she’s pretty like one. And his voice is funny because he’s not from here. It’s a little confusing.” Part of Harry wanted her to stay pregnant forever listening to the little boy list off hundreds of reasons why he and Rory loved this woman so much. It felt like heaven. “Mumma is going to make sure you eat your veggies, but I’ll show you how to hide them in your napkin,” he whispered.

“Rory,” she sighed. “Don’t teach her bad things.”

“It’s not bad, Mumma! Green beans are yucky.”

“Well, what if she likes them?” Harry asked.

“Well, she’s my sister so she probably won’t,” he shrugged.

Harry chuckled. “S’a good point, lad.”

“When do you want to come out?” Rory asked.

“She’s still in there for another two months,” she explained from above.

“Do you like pancakes?” He asked her. “Mumma makes them a lot.”

“She’s your sister,” Harry reminded him. “She probably does.”

He giggled and nodded. “That’s true,” he agreed. “Then I think she really wants some pancakes right now, because I really want pancakes right now. Talk to you later,” he gave a quick kiss to her stomach and popped back up to sit at the table with his comics.

“You have the cutest son,” she whispered to Harry who stood beside her and kissed the side of her face.

“You too, baby,” he murmured into her hair. “Thanks for giving me two really cool kids.”

“Two really cool kids who you give candy to at bedtime?” She asked turning to him and quirking an eyebrow at him suspiciously.

Harry grinned wickedly. “I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about.”

“Uh-huh. Gotta find a new hiding spot,” she muttered, silently cataloging where she could put her stash next. She turned back to the stove putting more butter into the pan to finish her batch of pancakes.

“Hey kitten?” He asked.

“Hmm?”

Harry was in awe of her. A single mom who loved Rory more than anything. Who pushed him away despite her own happiness. Someone who worried she would be too boring for Harry because she loved her kid so much. Who let Harry in and be the best dad in the world (according to Rory and every Father’s Day gift he’d gotten for the last three years). She was perfect and lovely. He kind of agreed with Rory, he didn’t know how it was possible to love three people so much. “I love you. So much.”

She grinned and nodded. “I love you too, Harry,” she tilted her head back so he could kiss her.

“Ew!” Rory covered his eyes dramatically. “She’s lucky she’s in your belly Mumma, so she can’t see it!”

Harry laughed, kissing her more and shaking his head. “Just you wait, Rory. You’re going to meet someone who you’ll love kissing.”

“No way, Jose, I’m never kissing anyone.”

“Not even Mumma?” she pulled away from Harry’s embrace and brought his plate of pancakes to him and kissed the side of his little face while he set aside his comics.

“Well... I guess Mumma kisses are okay,” he mumbled grabbing his fork and knife.

Harry smiled. “I couldn’t agree more.”

--

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[lostinlovingrevery]

TALK ABOUT LOGAN U SAY

anywayssss

I’m getting sick 😭😭 and I am terrible at taking care of myself. I don’t really drink water and I’m bad at eating and I don’t take medicine bc im lazy sooo low key I need Logan to come and tell me im an idiot and cuddle me and be my nurse tyvm

ROOOOOOOOOOOSE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF@!!!!!!!!

I say, as I didnt eat until 7:30 pm for the first time since I woke up at 6am, don't remember the last time i drink water, and used to skip taking medication when i had them

I hope you start feeling better!! Load up on vitamins, fruit, protein, hell take some gummy vitamins if you can. drink some orange juice!!!

Logan would be SUUUUUUUCH A GOOD CARETAKER!!!!!! HONESTLY!!! I think he would love doing it. I think initially he would have trouble warming up (like yknow first coming to the mansion or whatever situation you and logan find yourselves in) but like its canon he makes food and does nice things for others once he's settled in to the mansion.

and when hes got you????? LORD.

LOGAN TAKING CARE OF YOU HEADCANONS!!!!!!

he'll definitely nag your ass. Professional Nagging Champion over here. only because he wants you to take care of yourself

maybe at one point he acts nonchalant, "im not your babysitter" howlett but inside he's secretly raging over the fact that you're complaining of a headache meanwhile all you ate was a fruit snack today. Okay no more being "Cool guy" howlett. he wants to take care of you (think abotu what you do for him!!!)

He'll have alarms set on his phone (that he barely understands how to use but he figured that part out at least). even when he's out and without you he'll be texting you to take your meds

will probs be the one to grab your medicine case too when leaving

Like i said, I think Logan is a pretty good cook- okay, MAYBE X1/worst/old man Logan was on the road/struggling to survive and barely cooked the entire time but I still think he'd be sooo good at it. make the yummiest, healthiest meals

(NO MICROWAVES)

Will learn your favorite recipes and make them on days he notices you're more rundown. He won't tell you on purpose bc he loves seeing the happy surprise on your face when you come into the kitchen

will bring you sliced fruit. ultimate act of love for me.

will buy you a water bottle and check on it to make sure you're drinking and also make you drink water whenever he's around

he's not super loud about it. when he takes care of you. obvious, but not loud.

like setting a water bottle firmly in front of you, or bringing you food but not saying a word about it. its just how he expresses his love. actions, not words. (when you're in private that might be a lil different tho...)

when he notices you're rundown, got the sniffles, looking sicker than usual in general he'll force you to take a nap with him under the premise of snuggling, but really its to get you to rest (but also snuggles. you cannot tell me this man is not the biggest cuddle bug on earth. im not just saying that bc i wanna cuddle with him. i truly think he would love cuddling and would be silently grumpy if he couldn't get the morning snuggles with you)

will give you massages to help you feel better

listen. listen. those massages always lead to something more. unless you're seriously ill. you're getting fucked.

will get protective and pissy to anyone(sorry scott) around you who start nagging you about paperwork, work in general, and whatever else. he knows you're doing your best and he's not gonna take shit or let you take shit from anyone

so so so comforting on your bad days. lots of hugs. kisses. reassurance. cursing out anyone who made you feel bad (either in private or to their faces logan doesn't care)

don't be concerned about his stoic ways when he does these things for you. he absolutely delights in doing so. living so long as a soldier, a weapon- he didn't think he'd be capable of being soft, affectionate, taking care of some one. now you're here and you help him so much and to be able to both return the favor and truly commit to his love is such a wonderful thing for him.

if you mention your feet being sore just once he'll want to carry you around the rest of the day. he just likes parading you around in his arms

when you're sick sick, nurse logan on the way.

sorry to anyone else that may try to help you because logan will straight up shove them out of the way.

hes tucking you in bed and giving you ALL the snuggles. checking your temp constantly. making you homemade comfort food. getting you the medicine you need. also I feel like he would try it just to see how it tastes since he never needs to take it. prepare for a rant of disgusts and then he goes out of his way to find better and tastier alternatives for you.

talks SO gently to you as well. he really is a lover boy <3

i actually have a request for logan taking care of a sick reader so i'll save some stuff for that

will curse under his breath tho, about sharing healing factors cause he really hates that you can't be well. at least he can coddle you though

will be that bitch and get you to do things for yourself by calling you sweet petnames and asking "for me, princess?" with that stupid charming smile that you cant resist and he KNOWS. screw you logan now im eating a balanced breakfast and taking my multivitamins.