#also dunno how I feel about having to wear scrubs... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aealzx · 10 months

Text

A light knock on the door frame caused Leo’s head to twitch up from his videos, a large smile flashing his teeth when he spotted Carol at the door. “Mom!” he chirped, and started squirming to get up to greet her.

“Hey, honey. How’s two of my favorite boys doing?” Carol laughed, quickly heading to the bedside so Leo didn’t have to get off it, and could just kneel and hug her.

“Good!” Leo chimed, rubbing his cheek against Carol’s shoulder and humming lightly when she gave him a firm hug back. “Well, y’know, considering everything else that’s happened. Being sick probably really sucks, and having a banged up ankle also sucks. But it’s cozy here, and we get to relax. Dee’s been sleeping a lot, I’ll wake him up soon for dinner, but I dunno if we’ll get him to eat anything major. He’s kind of picky sometimes.”

Carol could only chuckle lightly as Leo rambled on without letting go of her. He always did talk a lot, but he didn’t usually cling to her this much. Which just confirmed her suspicions from what she’d heard from the others. “Uh huh. So if everything is as expected for you, then what’s got you concerned?” she prodded, absently rubbing Leo’s back and noting the slight tense in his frame at the question.

“Concerned? Me? Nahhhh,” Leo brushed off, keeping his head where it was, facing away from her. “If anything I’m just antsy. Been cooped up in here for a few hours, you know? About ready to get up and move.”

Carol could only give a mildly questioning hum at the response, raising her brow, knowing he was avoiding so many things with her right then. “Hmmmm. So that’s why you’re clinging to me and deliberately hiding your face in my shoulder?” She felt Leo’s cheek shift as his smile momentarily fell before he put it back.

“No- It’s because your shirt is really soft. It just feels great at the moment,” Leo lied, rubbing his cheek again to try and prove a point.

Carol knew he was lying even without knowing him now. She was still wearing the scrubs from work, and those were not soft at all. But she didn’t call him out on it. “Oh? Well, come a lil closer then, honey. How about I just…” she prodded, leaning forward to push Leo back a little so she could scoot onto the bed with them. Then she expertly hooked his knees towards her, scooting him up onto her lap in a ball and wrapping her arms fully around him in a cradle. Leo sputtered in giggles and laughs, but the squirms were both to get comfortable and in slight protest. Carol giggled along with him, then once he was settled she started softly humming a nonsense song while slightly rocking back and forth. If it really was nothing then she anticipated Leo would snuggle for a moment, and then squirm again to be let go. But if it wasn’t nothing….

As Carol expected, instead of getting built up energy from being kept in a ball, Leo started to sag into her and his nose found it’s way into her shoulder again as his shoulders shook. “............at's not fair…….,” Leo eventually mumbled pathetically. “Wasn’t supposed to cry on you too.”

The half admittance of defeat just made Carol give a soft chuckle, squishing her cheek affectionately against Leo’s head. “I’ve learned some tricks,” she consoled, a comforting hand rubbing wide paths on his back. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong now?”

“Mhhh….,” Leo hummed back, seemingly wanting to answer, and yet finding it hard to say. Carol was quietly patient though, and it was enough to motivate him to start talking. “I just… It’s stupid really…… I just can’t get what Casey said out of my head,” he admitted, finally putting it out in the open, and prefacing it with preparation to be told he didn’t need to worry. “That every decision I make could cost someone their life. And then…. All of this happened. And now I have to take care of Donnie. And I’ve done it so many times before. But… this time…. I’m just scared. You know?”

“Yeah, I know exactly how that feels,” Carol agreed. She’d worked as a nurse, and a neurologist for so long now. It was hard not to be worried that she’d make the wrong decision. But there was one thing she always had to remember, that might help Leo now. “But you have to also remember that your decisions could be the one thing that saves someone’s life. So you shouldn’t be scared to act based on what you know. And you, my boy, are brilliant. And I’m so proud of you.” She couldn’t help herself, and reached over to give Leo’s cheek a light pinch before giving him a big kiss on the top of the head.

Leo had gone quiet, but Carol could feel the tension slowly start to seep out of his frame. The grip on her shirt loosened as the realization sank in. “.... Yeah…” he breathed, her words playing in his head again. “Yeah! You’re right!” he eventually chirped, pushing up to look at her fully before flinging his arms around her shoulders. “Thanks Mom! You’re awesome!”

Carol could only laugh and return the hug once again, glad to see that his doubts had been quick to remedy this time.

--------

Previous Next

____________________

Mama fluff time, awww yeah BD

Also credit to happyfoxx-art for the headcanon that mama Carol is a neurologist, I fully support it and can't see her as anything else now X'DDD

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #better genes continued #leo #carol #mom time #mama Carol

169 notes · View notes

happy-beeeps · 1 year

Note

Hi love! Could I request a Rex X reader where reader can’t sleep so he stays and talks with her?

Hi lovie!!! Tysm for the request! It makes me so happy to answer these especially when they're about Rex. I actually struggle with insomnia so this is like a very real occurrence for me, so I hope you love it!! Also the way i'm posting this at night aw it's like a bedtime story this has so many layers

Bed Time

pairing: Rex x jedi!reader

Summary: You have a hard time finding sleep, so Rex finds you instead

Warnings: None, this is tooth rotting fluff for my sleepy girlies (gn)

WC: 1.2k

* * *

You’re a monster when you’re low on sleep, according to everyone in the Jedi Council and most of the GAR. For being a Jedi, you’d think you’d be well equipped to handle low sleep, but to you, sleep is currency. There’s a running gag of all the places you’ve dozed off when trying to catch up on lost hours (the current favorites being Master Yoda’s council chair, at Kix’s med station, and inside the youngling’s training room.) You’re bristle and groggy when you’re low on energy, and everyone jokes of the time Anakin had proposed one of his haphazard “plans,” and you had looked at him, eyes sullen, and placed a hand over his mouth. “I’m going to need you to stop talking.” You grumbled.

He got over it. Eventually.

This lack of sleep is how you find yourself here, padding through the jungles of Felucia in nothing but your sleep shorts and tunic. When sleep struggles to find you, you’ve found it best to seek a quiet spot away from your bed and do something, anything, to calm your mind. Meditate, read, once you have even scrubbed the entirety of the 501st’s gear. So now, you settle on a quiet spot overlooking a valley, out of sight from where you’ve all made camp, but not too far that you’re in any inherent danger. It’s hard to focus here, the air is thick and soupy and you swear if you swung your arms down fast enough you’d catch water droplets on them. Still, the quiet hum of wildlife around you allows you to ground yourself in the moment, to pretend you’re not at war. It’s calm, peaceful even. Of course, until the peace is corrupted by the crunch of footfall, and you spin around to face the intruder, though your gaze softens as it lands on him.

Rex walks in through the bushes, holding a canteen and a scrap of fabric in one hand, and his bucket in another. He’s dressed only on the bottom, opting to just wear his blacks across his broad chest. “Fancy seeing you here,” he smirks, then moves to settle next to you, offering you the canteen of crisp water.

You graciously accept it, drinking as much as you can muster in one breath, hoping to replace everything you’ve just sweated out. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

“You know, some might even say I was made for you.”

You roll your eyes at the quip, sending your shoulders gently into his. He takes the movement as an invitation to open his arm, and you happily settle your weight on his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

“What are you doing here,” he murmurs against your hair, and you make a movement that resembles a shrug.

“Dunno. Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

He laughs, and you can feel the rumble down your spine, “Right, so we’ll be paying for that in the morning.”

You look up at his smirk and stick out your tongue at him, and he responds by pressing a warm kiss on the back of your cheek near your ear, swinging his arms around you to hold you firmly across your chest. “How can I make it better?”

“Master Yoda would say by leaving me alone,” you joke, and you know he gets your jest, as he only holds you tighter. “Can we just talk? I don’t know why I’m so unsettled right now.”

“Of course, about what?”

You shrug again and nudge your feet outwards, kicking Rex’s helmet as you move. “What are your marks for again? Tell me about them.”

“Those?” he gestures his head towards the helmet, “For missions I’ve successfully completed. Course, I’ve had to start counting by fives.”

Your eyes land on the newest cluster scrawled on his forehead and you count seven dashes. 35 battles won. You don’t know why that fact impresses you, considering you’ve been at probably half of them at least, not to mention the other missions you’ve completed. Then again, everything Rex does impresses you.

“You ever think about what you’d do without it all, the war, the missions? When it’s all over?”

He hums, pulling you in closer, “Nah, not much use in it. I’m not meant to know anything but war.”

You swat at his chest, “Don’t say that, you know I don’t like it." There’s a blissful silence that falls around the two of you after that. Not quite enough for you to get sleepy, but enough for you to melt into his arms a little bit more, to meditate a touch and use his breathing as an anchor. After a few minutes of this, you start up again. “I know what I’d do.”

“Oh really, General? I’m all ears.”

“First, I think I’d rescue this one dashingly handsome clone captain I worked with, if he’d have me,”

“He would, always, but go on,” and he trails kisses up and down the back of your neck, wherever he can reach.

“Then I think I’d settle on a system somewhere warm, with a beach maybe.”

“Like Naboo?”

“Sure, we can go to Naboo. Then, I think I’d be a teacher.”

“Like a Jedi Master?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’d teach all the kids in our town and then I’d come home to my captain.”

“I’m sure he’d be very happy to see you.” And he is. Rex pulls your chin in for a kiss, not fueled by lust or urgency, but a slow, easy kiss that’s meant to put you at ease. “Do you mean it?” he asks, eyes searching yours for any deception.

You yawn. “When it comes to you, always.”

He grips you tighter, and sleep threatens to overtake you now. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs, running his fingers up and down the sides of your arms, sprouting chill bumps in his wake. “Put this on.” And he passes you the black fabric resting beside him.

You unfurl it and open it to reveal one of his black undershirts. “Rex,”

“I just washed it, it’s clean. It’s designed to wick sweat so it’ll keep you cool,” he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck now, “sides, it’ll be like I’m sleeping with ‘ya.”

“Won’t that look suspicious? What if Anakin says something-”

“I can guarantee you that he won’t.”

You do as you're told, and settle into the warmth of his chest once more, surrounded by him and his scent. You must drift off in a matter of minutes, and Rex scoops you up carefully, holding you with both arms and carefully bending down to pick up your lightsaber. He walks the short distance back to camp, and meets a smirking General Skywalker at the flap of your tent. The Jedi puts his hand up before Rex can say anything, “Whatcha got there?” he smirks, opening the flap for Rex to place you at your bedroll, you still fast asleep. He ducks back out to face Anakin, who just gives him a knowing look before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Goodnight, you two.”

Rex rolls his eyes but grins at his General, before turning back to face your tent. “Goodnight cyarika.” He murmurs, the sound quick and fleeting, floating away on the warm, Felucian air.

#fic factory is OPEN BAYBEE #captain rex x reader #captain rex #captain rex x f!reader #requests #commander rex #rex x reader #clone trooper rex #tcw fic

289 notes · View notes

crookedkryptonitebeliever · 26 days

Note

Bruh I remember you saying how there was a point in his life where Yves was possibly facing death row because of some insane human experiments and now I’m just imagining him in court looking cunt as f in that orange jumpsuit like: “12 counts of kidnapping” *flips hair over his shoulder* “6 counts of dealing in dead human remains” *crosses legs* “18 counts of Mayhem” *bats eyelashes* “20 counts of first degree murder” “3 counts of possessing, selling or usage of weapons of mass destruction” like he’s be so nonchalant because he knows that he’s gonna be free and won’t see another night of jail and that the courts are just doing this to satisfy the loved ones of the families that were affected.

Now I wonder like, I remember in an earlier ask it looked like Yves might’ve looked quite different when he was in his doctor era, not as femme and with shorter hair, would this coincide with his mad scientist era as well? Or would this be afterwards?

I also feel like the human experimentation stuff happened while he was trying to essentially patch himself up and used live donations to do that. I dunno y but I have a headcanon that all of that may of happened earlier into his medical career, like I can imagine him first starting, always wearing a surgical mask and gloves because his face and hands probably looked DASTARDLY, and over time, as he patches himself up reveals more and more of himself.

I dunno, just my idea, probably doesn’t match up with your own tl but I was thinking about it since I saw it and now I have the time to put it into words! Love your writing and I love Yves!!!!!!!!

Tw; Yves past and full of traumas n shit, body horror and stuff

Trust me, he wasn't serving cunt in court, there was a reason why he has any video, photo and even memorial evidence of it scrubbed.

The first time he got sentenced heavier than a few years in prison without parole, he was screaming and hissing and kicking as the guards took him away. Yves was bitter and full of hatred, his quest to become beautiful again was interrupted too early because of his immature carelessness. It hasn't even been half a decade since he received his license and he's already caught. Fellow inmates avoided him because there was just something not right about that man even though he was one of the scrawniest and visibly weakest in the institution.

He already knows how to make scalpels out of nothing, Yves's extensive knowledge of human biology means that he could very easily kill or debilitate anyone without a hitch. The gangs wouldn't want to mess with him, the weaker ones wouldn't want to get his attention, and not even the wardens wanted to go near him if they could help it. The vibes were just... Off. He wasn't a pretty sight for the eyes either, especially with his scars and deformities from years of abuse.

It was only years after he 'calmed' down enough to think properly in prison. Unfortunately though, during his turbulent years, he racked up a large number of mutilation and murder victims in his facility. He was the worst and deadliest inmate in there, at one point having a judge sentence him to death because he was just too much of a threat to be kept alive.

So he sobered up, pushed aside his anguish for his looks and dignity robbed away from him. Yves considerably mellowed himself down, opting to be more diplomatic and cunning to get what he wanted. He had to learn how to seduce the people that matter without the help of his youth and looks, he would play the meek, helpless deformed cutie in distress. It managed to win the hearts of some key personnel that aided him in escaping. Not only the prison, but the system too.

Through a lengthy, convoluted, and nerve-wracking plan paved by betrayal, drugs, sexual exploitation, torture, and evil intentions, Yves somehow got his death sentence reversed. And slowly, dissolved his other penalties too with the help of his contacts and smart thinking. He sacrificed a lot to get out and most importantly, acquire experiences.

He kept going until he finally escaped, entirely. Having the authorities off his back because they cannot convict him anymore. Using every legal loophole and doing shady things to paint him as innocent in the eyes of the law. Hell, they didn't even remember him, as if he induced permanent amnesia into those who brought him to justice in the first place. He had done the impossible and he had become a traitor to everyone he had used to attain his goals, dooming them to their horrible fates because they abused and brutalized him when he was at his lowest.

From there, he had attained his secret, unstoppable weapon: patience. Yves has learned a valuable lesson, that is if he keeps acting out and thinking that he's running out of time, he will fuck up and not go anywhere.

Now that he knew the ins and outs of the system (and the psychology of those involved), the next time he was caught and brought for another court hearing in handcuffs, he wasn't serving cunt either. He had to manipulate everyone into thinking that he was innocent and simply framed for something he didn't do. Yves is playing his own chess and winning at every round, he knows all the moves and what to do, and he calculates the risks and benefits, the probability of what might happen. Who he should endear himself to and who he should appear intimidating to.

When it comes to trouble, he is never serving cunt nor flop. He is always serving nothing. Because he knew that attention can be deadly, for every case he got himself into, one of his main priorities was to keep it hush-hush. The less people know, the less he has to eliminate, the better.

He wormed back into his medical career, laying low for a bit but ultimately scheming to get back to usual programming. Yves learned how to be much more careful, and sneaky. He learned how to keep their screams muffled and enhanced his forgery skills. The importance of having numerous scapegoats at his disposal is greatly emphasized so his quest wouldn't be interrupted too soon again. Those who truly knew the monster under that calm and collected facade either feared or respected him, or both. Everyone else didn't know who he even was or his relevance to anything, that's exactly what Yves wanted: obscurity. Fame did nothing but get him in trouble and tormented, so he sunk into the comforting depths of anonymity.

Only when he got the face, hands, and feet that he wanted, Yves fucked off from the medical field to do other things he wanted. But mostly it is to work on his mental fortitude to become the powerhouse he is right now. It doesn't mean he quit entirely, though. Present day, He would still run his morbid experiments from time to time on people who wronged him; there is definitely no shortage of them in the world. Yves does that to satisfy his curiosity or to research how to make your life better.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #oc yves #yandere oc x reader #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere concept #male yandere oc x reader

35 notes · View notes

mikeyforreal · 1 year

Text

some random adrian chase head cannons :P

a/n: just some random thought about my favorite crime-fighting goofball :)

cw: fluff, some cussing, a few depictions of violence

miscellaneous hcs

• okay so first off, i know this isn't really a head cannon but james gunn confirmed that the visor in vig's suit is prescription and idk i just love that fact

• anyway, real head cannons now

• i'm like 99.99% sure he has a playlist for when he's on patrol and makes chris listen to it with him

• also, i think he'd have the same wired earphones from like 2014 that came with his iphone 6

• adrian's favorite candy is probably skittles or m&ms because of the fun colors (sometimes he likes to sort them if he's feeling a bit bored)

• i just know he has a collection of vhs tapes that he bought from a secondhand store/had as a kid

• speaking of collections he probably also has a bunch of cd's

• i dunno why but i feel like adrian loves star wars and has since he was little (and also has all the og trilogy movies on vhs)

• definitely has a cheap walmart lightsaber lying around somewhere

• GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY !!!

• i feel like as a kid he loved finding bugs, digging for worms, ect.

• one time he tried eating one, didn't turn out good for him (he couldn't stop throwing up for like 3 days)

• since it's cannon he played/plays dnd, he'd probably play magic, the gathering as well 😭

• i also think that he'd really love the artificial grape flavor ??

• LMAO i think he'd have a little chainsaw keychain lying around somewhere

• def listens to abba, spice girls, and yung gravy

• probably good with kids? he'd set the the house on fire if he watched some but he can keep them entertained at least ?

• manchild (i will not elaborate)

• he reminds me of jake peralta from brooklyn-99

being best friends/in a relationship with adrian

• let's face it, they're practically the same thing

• i justttt know that he made like 10 secret handshakes for the two of you

• his love language is probably words of affirmation, quality time, or touch (maybe all of them, who knows)

• wants to teach you how to play mtg and dnd !!! (please let him teach you he'll be over the moon)

• def has a playlist that he wants to listen to with you

• two words: movie dates

• adrian loves watching movies with you !! even if he's seen it a few dozen times, he'd watch it again just to see your first time reactions :)

• THEMED COSTUMES !!!

• if you're down, he'd want to match with you ever year, something different and cooler than the last

• if you wear glasses, you better bet your ass that he's switching with you 24/7

• you cant go an hour without your glasses getting taken off and replaced with his

• also, i think that adrian wouldn't have the cleanest glasses 😭 you def gotta give 'em a good scrub every now and then

• dr. pepper enthusiast fs

• discounted/sometimes free food and fennel fields

• if you can work from home and go there often just to eat and work, he's definitely spending his 15 minute breaks (and longer than that) sitting with you and chatting

• he's always bringing home leftovers or breadsticks that he stole

• i think adrian has a pretty decent comic collection, and would go to shops with you for dates or hangouts

• he's probably super good friends with the owner (or at least that's what he thinks)

• when he's patrolling, he randomly facetimes you???

• like he has a guy near death and he's having a full conversation with you

• adrian has tonsss of silly and random nicknames for you !! he just calls you whatever you remind him of

• whenever he goes over to your place or vice versa, you two have a special knock that lets either of you know immediately who it is

• one of his ideal dates would probably be going to the park and feeding ducks !! (and him trying to catch them)

• he also randomly makes machine gun noises ?? what's that about ??

• the two of you'll just be chilling watching tv or something and then you hear 'CHCHCHCHC' and see him doing finger guns or whatever

• and when you ask him about it he's just like "what do you mean babe?"

• would probably beg you to get a little cat or a dog

• if you initially say no, he's gonna pull out a whole powerpoint presentation on why you should say yes (and he's wearing his fanciest clothes)

• FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS !!!

• it doesn't matter where or what they look like, if he sees some at the gas station, store, theme park, wherever, he's buying some for the two of you

• your relationship is basically that one scene in bobs burgers scene where tina makes a friendship bracelet for louise and tina's like "oh you don't have to wear it" and louise snatches it and says "no i'm gonna wear it forever, back off"

• proud malewife

• adrian is in the kitchen a lot, always fixing up snacks for you

a/n: let me know if i should make another one of these with another character !

#adrian chase #peacemaker #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #vigilante #freddie stroma

133 notes · View notes

callmearcturus · 7 months

Note

question how much gun stuff is in the mission impossible series as a whole? and how realistic is it? i know does the dog die has trigger warnings but i have a complicated relationship with guns due to a past incident and am curious about the series's handling of it

comparatively to other actions films, I think Mission Impossible is very restrained with guns. Except MI3, which is the Wildly Out Of Character film and one of the many reasons it feels OOC is because there's so much gunplay. The main character of these films, Ethan Hunt, is not a marksman, he's a close quarters combatist.

Like, MI1.

There's a point Ethan pulls a gun on someone but he never fires a single shot in the entire movie and IIRC outside that Specific Scene, he doesn't even hold a gun again.

At the very very very end of the movie, the bad guy holds Ethan up with a gun and shoots another character, but its a tense scene, not a Cool And Fun Shootout.

In Ghost Protocol.... [accesses mental databanks]

An assassin lady uses a handgun in two different scenes, but the team wildly prefers to disarm guns. Hell, in a big fight scene, Brandt's main move is to dismantle an opponent's gun before continuing the fight.

ETA: ethan forces Brandt to show his true colors by pulling a gun on him, fully knowing Brandt will disarm him

The final setpiece has a team member being shot (she survives) and Benji shoots the baddie's second in command. Ethan's entire fight with the central bad guy has no guns.

In Rogue Nation...

the inciting moment of the story is a woman being shot in front of Ethan to purposefully fuck with him.

There's some bad guys shooting at Ethan as he escapes being captured.

[thinks hard]

OH the Opera Setpiece uses guns for subtle comedy; there are three gunmen, and each one has a different disguised gun to sneak into the theatre. One's a flute, one's a metal piece of a railing, one's a nightstick.

RN also ends in a shoot out that quickly devolves into a foot chase bc, again, Ethan doesn't like using guns.

In Fallout.... [dial up tones]

The opening scene has some gunplay, but it's fairly brief. Ethan shoots his friend Luther but Luther's wearing a vest to protect him.

then there's a long long period without any guns...

ETA: I FORGOT ONE, during the elaborate bathroom brawl scene, it ends with ethan nearly being shot but ilsa shows up to one-shot the bad guy instead. this one results in a visible pool of blood.

then a dream sequence in which a lot of people are shot and its unequivocally framed as "this is a nightmare and bad and not happening"

one of the pivotal moments of the movie is a bystander being shot in front of ethan. when the baddies (well, not baddies but they are Bad) move in to finish her, ethan quick-draws and kills them instead

ilsa fires a gun from her motorcycle at ethan, no one is hurt.

....... is that it. come on brain. i'm mentally scrubbing thru footage.

oh there is a gunfight between two helicopters, with the intention of shooting the other helicopter down.

In Dead Reckoning.... i dunno if i have the movie memorized in the same way i do the others, lets see

there is an early scene in a desert in which ethan and ilsa are using guns to fight off incoming attackers.

.........

am i just not remembering the guns or is DR1 just really really low on guns until the train

Grace is held up by a gun on the train but is saved. Briggs and Degas hold Ethan at gunpoint but he talks them down.

........ i think that's it???????? wow that's about as few as MI1, that's impressive.

Okay so one thing I want to point out is that MI wildly prefers intensely choreographed fights to shootouts. Also, when compared to something like John Wick, the gun quotient of MI is staggeringly low, and never really lingers? Guns are not Cool in MI.

Guns have gravity to them in MI and there's never a moment that really glorifies them. Even the inciting incident of Rogue Nation is the Big Bad purposefully murdering a young woman specifically to fuck with Ethan, and there's no.... elaborate effects. There's a sound, and she drops. This restraint is frankly one of the many things I like about MI.

I have no idea what your personal trigger point with guns is, so you'll have to decide for yourself.

#icecreamvi #mission impossible #skip MI2 and MI3 they are gun heavy

12 notes · View notes

bigwishes · 1 year

Text

Questions Answered

I have gotten quite a few questions in my ask inbox and DMs. a lot of them are a very similar vein and I haven’t answered them because been busy with the holidays. Now I have a bit of time I thought I’d smash some out (still feel free to DM me if these answers create more questions or you had one I didn’t answer)

Q1) Do you take roids/plan on taking roids? A1) No, and I don’t think I ever will. For a few reasons, 1 being I like the idea of being natty even if it means Ill never really reach my goal and 2 being my family already has some thinks like heart disseise that is genetic and I don’t really feel like dealing roids onto the table Q2) How long have you been working out/ Why didn’t you start earlier A2) consistently I have been working out for about a 8 months, although a lot of that has been learning what I am doing and studying form so I can push myself in 2023 without injury. As for why I didn’t start earlier I grew up in a remote community in the outback and we didn’t have a gym, I learnt what bodybuilding was about 18/19 and push ups only get you so far, but now I live closer to civilisation and am trying to get my grind on. Q3) what kind of guys do you like other than bodybuilders? would you date a twink? A3) I like other kinds of guys, a bloke doesn’t have to be a bodybuilder to catch my fancy but he does need to be into fitness and lifting and that’s more out of a shared interest thing. I want to date a guy who’ll work out with me and push me in the gym, go on hikes with me and other stuff and just in my experience twinks aren’t for me. Q4) do you have a picture of what you wanna look like? A4) yep,

again unknown how close I’ll ever get to my goal going full natty but my plan is to put on as much muscle as I can naturally gain.

Q5) do you want to compete A5) I have thought about it, it’d just be a minor thing, nothing too big but possibly? don’t really know yet. But I do know I definitely want a poser when I have some more mass, those things are fucking hot.

Q6) will we ever get pics? A6) probably not. Sorry for people who wants pics of my progress but no. I dunno there may be a chance in the future when I like my body a bit more but even then I’d need to be careful as I am studying for a government job.

Q7) do you have other fantasies or just muscle growth? A7) yeah, a few others. It kind of came out of no where a few weeks ago but race change, the idea of staying the same person but at the same time becoming an entirely different person is very hot to me. Also sweat and B.O

Q8) Do you actually want to be sweaty all the time? A8) in fantasy yes, but I know in reality that is not possible with work. However there is nothing stopping me from hitting the gym and enjoying the stink for a few hours after. Not to mention it takes about 20-30 minutes of scrubbing to even wash it out because I am hairy as and it gets stuck. [as a bonus answer same goes for burping, I know I wouldn’t be able to forever but there is something about it that makes me feel sexy when I’m belching after a work out]

Q9) can I fund your growth for pics? A9) I’ve had a fair few guys message me asking if I have a pateron or somewhere they can send me money to see my progress and fun my progress and whilst the gym is expensive no, but unlike the pics in general where I dunno if ill get to a point of liking myself to post pics I don’t think I’ll ever make a pateron to fund my progress. Q10) what is something you think you’ll do when you get bigger? A10) Flex and wear underwear haha, once I start getting bigger I definitely see myself flexing in the mirror in my underwear for at least an hour a day. Hopefully one day Ill have the perfect storm of being big, having a massive pump, sweating up a storm and belching out my protein bloat.

Hope all the people who have been waiting for their answers got their questions answered. If not or if you have more you can always send in an ask or DM me.

51 notes · View notes

direwombat · 1 year

Note

💭 Sybille’s thoughts on Cooper?

ahhhh thank you! have a little bit of syb and cooper waking up from their most recent stoner film adventure lol. Coop's maybe a bit quieter here than he normally is but he's also hungover so...i hope i did him enough justice ;w;

Cooper goddamn McCoy has a hell of a way of bringing out the absolute worst of her in the best way possible. He's her favorite enabler.

What had started as a simple night drinking turned into what must’ve been a series of poorly made gambles because the two of them had woken up four days later somewhere in the mountains wearing Cheeseburger costumes from the F.A.N.G. Center that were covered in blood.

Fresh blood.

Sybille moans, pressing her palm against her head. Her temples throb and she’s not entirely sure if she’s still got something Tweak gave her pumping in her veins or ambient Bliss causing the glimmering lights to dance in her vision. Christ her head hurts.

“Jesus,” she hisses under her breath at the exact same time Cooper groans, “Sunnuva bitch.”

She pops the obnoxiously large bear-shaped mascot head off her costume and throws it to the side. Cooper does the same and the two of them sit in the grass, staring at each other dumbfoundedly.

“The fuck happened last night?” Sybille asks?

Cooper hushes her with a meandering shush. “Words too bright,” he groans.

Sybille ignores him and squints, taking in their surroundings. “Where are we?”

“Dunno,” Cooper groans.

“Well, whose region are we in?”

“Dunnoooo.”

“‘S too warm to be the Whitetails,” she says slowly. “‘N those trees look like the ones in the Valley. I think we’re in the Valley.” She grows more confident in her assessment as she says it aloud. She stretches her arm out, slapping lightly at her companion. “Hey. Hey, we’re in the Valley.”

“Okay."

They sit there in silence for a long moment.

“We should probably try to find a road. Make our way back to town….or just someone’s house…” Cooper says.

Sybille groans, but she gets up, wobbling on her legs like a newborn deer. Her stomach churns and bile rises in her throat. “Oh God,” she breathes, She leans over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “Okay. Okay….” She rises. “Let’s go.”

She helps Cooper up to his feet and the two begin to stumble their way down the mountain.

“Fuck, this is Testy Festy all over again ain’t it?” Cooper says after a while.

Sybille snorts, and picks her way over a gnarled system of tree roots. “Yeah, well at least then we were close to town. I ain’t got no clue where we are.”

“You remember anything from last night?” Cooper asks.

“No,” she answers. “You?”

“No…” Cooper says. “Shit. That ain’t good…what’s the last thing you remember?”

Sybille pauses, thoughtfully scrolling back until she finds something other than a black void. “We was at the Spread Eagle. Just came back from blowin’ up John’s sign. Came in for a victory round…”

“Oh yeah,” Cooper says. Then he starts laughing. “Some asshole bet we couldn’t do a Clutch Nixon stunt!”

“Shit, Cooper, what’d I tell you about gamblin’?” Sybille scolds.

“You were the one who made the bet!” Cooper exclaims.

What? No way. That can’t be right. But no -- wait…shit, maybe she did. She wracks her brain, scrubbing through her memories like it’s security camera footage. And lo and behold, she gets a flash of spitting in her own hand and shaking another man’s for a friendly wager of 500 bucks and an endless supply of moonshine if she and Cooper could not only pull off one Clutch Nixon stunt, but all of them.

She doesn’t remember the stipulation for losing, but given her and Cooper’s current state of affairs, she doesn’t feel too worried about that.

Shit. She really is her daddy’s daughter, huh?

“Well, I think we won that bet,” she says flippantly. She’s then hit with another wave of nausea and almost vomits. “Shit. How many drugs did we take to pull that off?”

“All of them I think,” Cooper responds. And then he asks: “So, how do you think the bear suits came into play? And whose blood do you think this is?”

“No fuckin’ clue. ‘M sure Mary May will tell us when we get back,” Sybille sighs. She and Cooper are a riptide of destruction that puts Hurk and Sharky as a duo to shame. Half the county must be up in smoke after what they got up to, and hopefully a few Peggies fewer than before their memory failed them. It’s fun -- Cooper’s fun, Sybille thinks. Doin’ dumb and reckless shit makes me feel like a teenager again.

They lapse into silence, continuing on for another twenty minutes before seeing a break in the trees. Paved road. With a directional sign pointing towards Falls End. Just ten miles East! Both of them breathe out a sigh in relief.

“You wanna get a beer after this?” Cooper asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Sybille sighs. “Why not?” Whatever shit the two of them got up to, she needs to drink it off. And there’s no better drinking buddy she could ask for than Cooper McCoy.

#cooper mccoy #oc: deputy sybille la roux #my writing

4 notes · View notes

sleptwithinthesun · 2 years

Note

if you're so inclined to write anything w cat allergy eddie i would love that!

okay so even though you are the most recent prompt i have received, i really want to get something out tonight, so here's a 1.3K fic for you, anon. promise i'm getting to the rest of the prompts, i'm just really tired and have been working all week :)

Eddie's almost asleep on the couch when Steve finally walks through the door, feeling a bit haggard and worse for wear but with a light in his eyes he knew had dimmed when he left almost three hours ago, after a call from Robin demanded his presence over at her place. At the sound of him kicking off his shoes, Eddie forces himself into an upright position, scrubbing at his face roughly with both hands before looking up to meet Steve's eyes and asking, exhaustion obvious in his voice, "'S she okay?"

"Robin's fine," Steve assures, moving to sit down next to Eddie for a few minutes before the two of them head upstairs. The latter is already half-asleep, hair messy around his head like he's been lying there for a while. He probably has; Steve didn't exactly tell him how long he was going to be out, and it's almost midnight already. "She just needed some, uh... help and advice."

He's pretty sure Eddie wouldn't give a shit about Robin being a lesbian. After all, the man isn't exactly quiet about his own sarcastic flirtations with Steve when it's the three of them and Nancy, but still, Robin trusted Steve with that information. If she doesn't want to tell anyone else, that's none of his business.

Eddie leans heavily into Steve's shoulder, blinking up at him. He's a very tactile person, Steve's learned, eager to soak up any human contact like a sponge. "Everything's okay, though?"

"Everything's okay," Steve confirms, bringing his hands up to untangle a couple knots that've worked themselves into Eddie's hair. "Have you been down here a while? I didn't mean to make you wait."

"Mm, I dunno," he murmurs. "Been down here since ten-thirty, maybe? Although, I do think I feel asleep for a bit." His nose wrinkles for a second before his face smooths out again.

Steve says, earnestly, "I'm sorry. I know we were supposed to hang out tonight, but it's a little too late for that now and I don't exactly want you driving in the dark. Would you maybe stay the night, then head home in the morning?"

"Oh, yeah. I am in no shape to drive right now," Eddie says, with a tired laugh, then turns so that his back is towards Steve and half his face is pressed into his shoulder. "h'ktSch! tcHh! kt'sch'iew!"

Steve taps Eddie lightly on the side of his thigh thrice, a nonverbal blessing for each sneeze. "Those were allergic?"

"Felt like it." Eddie sniffles, leaning back into Steve. "Though, they might also just be random. I was a bit sensitive today."

He nods. "Yeah, I remember from when we were in the kitchen earlier, with the lights?" Eddie hums in confirmation, rubbing a knuckle under his nose while Steve puts his hands in Eddie's thick hair again.

In the four-and-a-half months they've known each other since the Vecna incident, Eddie's been sick twice and had enough summer allergies that Steve can actually tell the difference between the way his sneezes sound. Still, though, this has to be allergies, because both the itchy and breathy quality of the sneezes and the fact that not even ten seconds later, Eddie's burying another fit into his shoulder, the two not even a minute apart, are calling cards if Steve's ever known them. This time, though, he seems more prepared, stifling the sneezes roughly. "h'ngt! ngxt! huh'sHXt!"

"Bless you," Steve says, brows knitting together. "No, those were definitely allergic. What's getting to you?"

Eddie shrugs. "No clue, to be honest. I didn't really do anything while you were gone, so maybe while you were at Robin's?"

And that's what gets his eyes widening with realization, grabs Eddie's attention by the ear and places it right on Steve's face. "It's her cats," he says, looking down at his shirt. Sure enough, both that and his jacket are covered in cat fur, just like the rest of Robin's house was. "Oh, shit."

As if that's permission to sneeze again, Eddie stifles another set of three into complete silence, then follows it up with an extra pair for good measure. "Change. Right now," he orders, all measures of playfulness completely dissipated. Nothing gets to Eddie quite like cats do, although dust is a distant second, and Steve complies without another question.

He shucks off his shirt and jacket before he even gets to his room, pants dropping seconds after the door closes, all items thrown into the hamper afterwards. He puts on a T-shirt and sweats to sleep in before creeping back out into the hallway with another set in hand. Eddie was leaning right into him; there's no telling how much ended up on his clothes as well, nor how much is on the couch. Robin's house was practically coated in the stuff.

"Here," he says, handing the bundle of clothing to Eddie. "Change in my room, I'll join you in a second. Let me just make sure there's no fur in my hair."

"Good idea," Eddie says, relaxing again as he walks down the hall. Crisis averted, apparently. Now all he has to do is pick any remaining bits of fluff and dander out of his hair before going back to his room, where convincing Eddie to sleep in his bed is as likely to happen as his parents are to return home at that exact instant, which is to say, not at all.

As he combs through his hair, Steve tries to run through any other options in his head. He very well can't leave Eddie out on the couch, what with the cat hair, and besides, the couch is more for show than actual comfort. There's no way Steve's going to sleep on it either, and it'd be weird if either of them took his parent's rooms, leaving either his room or the guest room available. And while there are upsides to the guest room, the Harringtons almost never have people over for the night, and he doubts it's in good enough shape that Eddie won't end up allergic to the dust, anyway. Meaning, it's Steve's room or bust, and he already veto'd the bust by telling Eddie he could stay the night.

It'll be fine. They're both adults, which might actually be part of the issue here, and wow Steve needs to stop thinking right now before he psyches himself out. He puts the comb back on the counter and grabs the sink for a couple seconds, grounding himself, before walking back to his room.

"Hey," Eddie says, slightly congested already. "You alright? You were gone for a bit too long, it felt like."

"Just being thorough," Steve tells him, smiling at the sight of Eddie in his clothing. It's more color than he feels like he's ever seen Eddie wear, a bright green Hawkins High T-shirt reaching down to the middle of his thighs and pale gray sweats cuffing just above his ankle. Different proportions, apparently, even if Steve is just a bit taller than Eddie is. "You alright?"

He nods. "I'm good, Harrington. 'S only a couple sneezes, no need to worry about it." His nose wrinkles again, the same way it did when he must've registered the allergen earlier. "I'm not sure if I want to risk the couch for the night, though. Is there—"

"Stay with me," Steve blurts out, plan out the window. "I don't mind sharing my bed, it's big enough for the both of us."

Eddie's frozen for a split second before some of the tension melts out of his bones. "Are you sure?"

He nods, resolute and smiling softly. "Yeah, Munson. Get in."

There's not another question from him, just the quiet acceptance that comes with a friendship like theirs. It shouldn't matter that they're sharing a bed, after all. As far as Steve knows, girls do this all the time at sleepovers.

"Thanks," Eddie whispers, once they're both tucked in and the lights are off. "For caring that much, I mean."

"Of course." Steve moves a hand up in the dark, squeezing Eddie's shoulder gently. "Always."

#askbox #promptfic #s/tranger t/hings snzfic #s/tranger t/hings #snzfic #e/ddie m/unson #s/teve h/arrington #swts fic

26 notes · View notes

indigoh4ze · 3 years

Text

party || rafe cameron

warning- SMUT // vaginal fingering, eating out, vaginal penetration, mentions of intoxication

rafe cameron x fem!reader

a/n- so this is my first time writing for outer banks, im terrible at writing actual interactions so im sorry its so bad at first lmao. also disclaimer: rafe in this fic is nothing like he is canon, so his characterization is off. enjoy :)

also feel free to request for any outer banks characters i write for

turn on notifs here - @slvt4fakerealities-library - to be notified when i post a new fic

join taglist (add yourself to the outer banks section)

the lights were blazing, different colors zapping throughout the room as you made your way over to the couch. your head was slightly fuzzy from the intoxication, but you managed.

since the couch was empty, you took the chance to sprawl your whole body out on it, head on one arm and feet dangling off the other. you watched as everyone danced and made out and filled their bodies with even more toxins. soon, you found yourself just dazing up at the ceiling, lips opening and closing slightly as you lip-synced in a whispering tone to the loud music.

after what felt like hours, but could’ve only been a few minutes, you felt something nudge your thigh. without moving your neck, you let your eyes flash down to find the source of the movement.

hovering over you was rafe cameron. his dirty blonde hair framed his face messily, a single cross earring dangling from his left ear, a red solo cup in his hand as his free hand poked at your thigh.

“what?” you slurred, now moving up on your elbows and blinking back the haziness.

“i wanna sit,” he said, taking a sip from the cup. even in this state it wasn’t hard to notice how good the boy looked, tilting his head back and gulping down the liquid, eyes never leaving your own.

you groaned, pulling your knees to your chest and allowing rafe to throw himself onto the cushion. you were now facing his side, as his hands gripped your legs and pulled them back to their original position, except now they laid over his leg. giving him a curious look, you laid the side of your face on the back cushion and fidgeted with the bracelet around your wrist.

“shouldn’t you be like- getting shit faced or something.” rafe snickered at your words, sending you a glare before looking back down to his cup, which he was also mindlessly playing with.

“sorry, did i interrupt your little..nap?” he teased with a hint of amusement, referring to the previous state you were in, and you scoffed in return, mind clearing a bit more and making room for annoyance.

“whatever.” and then, you were pulling your legs off him and standing up, albeit wobbly as you almost fell to the side, caught by rafe’s firm grip around your arm.

“you good?”

“‘m fine,” you dismissed the boy, confused as to why he was even talking to you in the first place.

the truth was, you never liked him, he was rude and careless and selfish and way too much to put up with. but you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards the boy, and the tension that was always evident when the two of you were together.

but you always just pushed those thoughts aside, because even the thought of anything happening made your mind whirl with a plethora of emotions, not good ones by any means.

but then, you also couldn’t deny the recurring fantasies of things that could happen. could but wont, because he’s rafe cameron, and not even you’re desperate enough to be one of his bitches.

“hey?” a light tug of your arm pulled you back to the present, and you turned to see rafe at your side, cup forgotten as one of his hands molded around your waist and the other wrapped around your bicep to steady you.

“i’m really fine-.” you pulled away from him, and right as you did so, you felt someone back up on you, pushing you towards rafe and into his chest as a cold liquid spread from the lower half of your head and down your back.

you gasped in surprise, suddenly awake and alert as you sharply turned to see a boy standing there, cup tilted and empty as all its contents spilt on your back. he mumbled a quick apology, then took off laughing with his friends about something they said that probably wasn’t even funny.

“you sure about that?” rafe inquired, eyebrow raised in amusement as you stepped away from him, this time more cautiously. “c’mon, we’ll clean you up.”

although you wanted to say no and tell him to fuck off because you could handle it yourself, you were too exhausted from the long night to put up much protest other than a dramatic groan. then, you nodded, and rafe led you away from the crowd of people with a tug of your wrist.

—//—

now, you found yourself in a bedroom, rafes bedroom, waiting expectantly as you stood in front of the boy.

“what now?” you ask, palming your eyes and yawning, looking back at rafe with glossy eyes now, which were sending waves of tingles through the boys stomach.

“take a shower,” he implied, as if it was obvious. you scrunched your brows as he pointed to the bathroom on the other side of the room.

“i don’t have any spare clothes.”

“i’ll find you something to wear,” rafe shrugged, “go on,” he urged you to the bathroom, and you followed obediently, not having it in you to put up any sort of fight or ask questions.

“i’ll be right back,” rafe said from the room as you closed the bathroom door, only to hear the door to the bedroom close as well, meaning rafe left.

your mind was filled with the thought that he just ditched you, which was a possibility, but you ignored that thought and slipped your shirt over your head. once all the articles of clothing were thrown onto the cold tile floor, along with your shoes which sat messily in the corner, you lift a foot into the tub, stepping in.

immediately, you played with the oddly fancy knobs and managed to turn them on, warm water rushing through the shower head as your tilted your head back into it. the odd colored drink washed away from your hair, falling onto the floor of the tub and down the drain smoothly. you searched for soap, quickly cleaning up and scrubbing your hair twice for good measure. the smell of the soap reminded you of rafe, not surprising considering it was literally his own soap, you told yourself, annoyed by your current thoughts.

the feeling of the slightly cold water hitting your skin was enough to wake you up fully, but you were too lost in the blissful feeling of the water to pay much attention to your surroundings.

that was until you heard the door to the bathroom open, and you peaked your head through the curtain to find rafe, setting a towel on the counter, along with a shirt and a pair of shorts.

“who’s are those?” you questioned, making rafe jump as he realized you were watching him.

“sarah, i just took some from her,” he shrugged, and now you were even more confused.

first, he started talking to you randomly. then he’s helping you stand. then he’s taking you to his room..so you can shower. then he’s getting clothes for you to wear? how much did you have to drink? you started to ask yourself, questioning if this was all you just being wasted.

but it wasn’t, you felt pretty much fine. so there had to be something you were missing.

“just hurry up and change, i’ll be in the other room.” without another glance towards you, rafe left the bathroom, leaving you standing there, wet hair dripping forward from the way you had tilted your head to peek through. you went back to getting the soap out of your hair, rushing a bit more now.

meanwhile, rafe was in his room, just outside the bathroom, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. what the fuck am i doing? was his only thought.

he was honestly just confused as you were. it started when he saw you laying on the couch, mouth agape as your eyes sketched shapes on the ceiling. you just being there was tempting enough, but after that he just had to make his way over to you.

the two of you hadn’t had many conversations in the past, at least no genuine ones. most were just bickering, to be honest. but, just as you thought, the tension was undeniable. the feelings weren’t one sided, that was for sure.

when he caught you from falling over, you had leaned into his warmth and something almost turned in his stomach, which was quite nauseating on his side. it was annoying how fucking worked up he got around you. his mind would spin with options of what to do with you. did he want to just kiss you, fuck you or annoy you to death? he had no idea, but it was overwhelming, to say the least.

so when he invited you to his room to clean up, he wasn’t really thinking about it, because everything was happening at once. he even searched his sisters room for goddamn clothes for you.

interrupting his inner monologue, a door opened and out came your figure, except you weren’t wearing the clothes he had given you. no, you were just in your towel, actually. your skin looked slightly damp still, but your hair had been fluffed out and dried a bit from the towel.

“what are you- where are the clothes i gave you?” rafe asked, standing hesitatingly.

“dunno, wasn’t my style i guess,” you shrugged, looking around his room casually, taking in the very rafe feel it gave.

rafe just scoffed, messing his hair up and stepping closer. “well, you can’t really go out in a towel now, can you?”

this reminded you that there was still a party going on, although it was muffled and a bit quieter as people began to call it a night.

“then i won’t go out.” you stepped closer, looking up at rafe with an expression of uncertainty, trying to identify the look behind his eyes, figure out what the fuck he was up to. but you saw nothing. if anything, there were just a bit of nervousness hidden there.

“and what exactly do you plan on doing, then? since your obviously so wise.” now his guarded demeanor was back up, though he had taken a step closer so your heavy breaths were hitting each other perfectly, hands close to grazing one another’s.

“i don’t know.” then, another reminder flashed in your mind, and you looked back at rafe, “wait, why are you even here? isn’t this like- your party?”

“well, technically topper wanted a party, i wanted to go to bed and sleep for a year.” you chucked at this, figuring he had already gotten fucked up today and didn’t feel like another party. then, taking a risk, you leaned in just a bit, and rafe didn’t pull back. actually, he pushed forward, bringing his large hands to wheel around your waist, setting fire through your veins.

it was as if both of you snapped at the same time, first eyeing each others lips, then pushing forward and taking said lips between your own. the kiss was hungry and long waited, immense relief flushing through you, which took you both by surprise.

not even a few minutes of this passed by before rafe was tugging at the towel, still clinging around your naked body, droplets of water probably wetting his floor.

before letting the fabric reveal your body, rafe looked at you, pulling away for a moment and looking over your features, silently asking permission. a quick nod was all it took for the material to be ripped off and throw to the side, rafe spinning you both around until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you fell back onto the mattress.

rafe looked over you with a smirk, eyes skimming over each and every detail of your body as if savoring it. a lick of his lips was all it took for your thighs to rub together, anticipation becoming too much as you waited for him.

this obviously pissed him off, because now his hands were tearing your legs apart, exposing your bare cunt inch by inch. “don’t even try to cover this up, got it?”

his voice was demanding, and luring, enough to make you nod, eyes softening in obedience, resulting in a snicker from rafe.

he leaned back in, delving down to leave kisses along your collar bone and suck on the flesh until bruises built against your skin, making you whimper and grab his dirty blond tressed with your fingers.

the sound of your whimpers made rafe go crazy, but he tamed the need inside him long enough to work his way down your stomach, placing teasing kisses down your inner thighs, but not once touching the spot you needed the most attention in.

“please, rafe,” you pleaded, not sure where it came from but gong with it once you saw the way he looked up at you, lust blown eyes and parted lips, waiting to be against your cunt.

“please what, hm? tell me what you want me to do, baby,” rafe cooed, fingers clenching around the inside of your thighs so he could push them apart and kiss your inner thighs, resulting in your back arching and hips begging upwards.

“n-need your mouth.” your face blushed with embarrassment of having to speak the words, but rafe just tsked, one hand moving upwards as he used his thumb to draw circles around your cunt, only passing your folds, earning a cry from you.

“i need more than that, doll.”

“fuck! please, j-just need your mouth on me, rafe, need to feel your mouth on my pussy, please!”

it seems that was acceptable for rafe, his thumb pausing just above your clit, then dragging down, finally grazing over the sensitive bud and stimulating it perfectly. your hips jerked at the sensation, but you grew accustomed to the feeling once he began working in small circles.

soon, his mouth was on your cunt, tracing paths over your folds and rubbing at the nub with a flat tongue, constantly sending shivers through you as you moaned with pleasure. his hands stayed at your side, ring clad finger’s cold against your flesh as his tongue dug inside you and began fucking your hole with no remorse.

the shapes and letters his warm tongue carved into you were almost too much, and when you reached down to rake your fingers through his hair, you fought the urge to push his head down and allow him to bury himself completely between your thighs.

“f-fuck! rafe, oh god, feels so good,” you sobbed, voice becoming louder as he hummed into you, a smirk on his lips, no doubt, from seeing you fall apart for him.

rafe pulled away within a second, licking his lip and keeping his eyes on your cunt, calculating his next move. you watched as he did so, suddenly feeling exposed as he raked his eyes over the slick coating your folds and your clit throbbing painfully through them. you squirmed at the emptiness, about to squeeze your thighs together, but you were too late as rafe brought a hand up, middle and forefinger pushing through your folds and embedding themselves within your walls.

a loud gasp escaped your lips as he did so, and you bit down painfully on the cushion of them as his fingers pumped in and out of you with nonstop speed. rafe looked up at you, his own lips parted beautifully as he watched moans flow easily out of your mouth.

“you like that, baby?” came his husky voice, only intensifying your already great pleasure that ran through your body. you nodded at his inquiry, not able to form coherent thoughts under his gaze. and that was when his fingers made a hook and pressed against your most sensitive part, making you squirm.

his smirk became bigger, and his fingers fucked you harder, a desperate attempt to ruin you right there. then he was leaning down, still pumping his fingers, and began to lick your clit with fervor, flicking the bud and sucking without resistance until your thighs were clenching around his head and you were a complete moaning mess.

“oh fuck- i’m g-gonna come rafe, pleaseplease,” you begged pathetically, having no time to be embarrassed as he hummed, nodding his head while still sucking on your clit, and permitted you to let go.

the orgasm took over in a huge wave, which came surprisingly fast, and the only thing on your mind was the bubbling in your stomach that was finally freed. moans and gasps fell from your lips as you wet his tongue and fingers, and rafe didn’t let a drop go to waste as he lapped up your slick, helping to prolong your orgasm.

hands reaching for his hair in dazed motions, eyes closed and lips parted, you mumbled, “t-too much, rafe,” which was the boys que to give you a final kiss on your clit, then remove his head and fingers from your cunt.

now, rafe stared up at you, swiping a ring clad thumb over his bottom lip, which was glistening with your arousal. his thumb then moved to enter your mouth, and you dutifully took in the digit, sucking with starry eyes, and whimpering when he removed it from your grasp.

rafe rose to his full height, still in his shirt and pants, which were no doubt keeping his hard dick from standing tall. suddenly, you felt that flush arise to your cheeks from your being nude, and you bit your lip and reached a hand out to grapple at his shirt. he took this as a sign to pull the material over his head, then going in for his buckle as well. the sound of the metal clinking as he loosened it from its straps was enough to send you into a spiral of anticipation, eyeing his clothed prick impatiently.

rafe had that smirk plastered to his face still, throwing his belt aside and then his pants, making sure not to go too fast as he tormented you.

you let out a whine as he hooked his fingers around his boxers, not pulling them down fully but revealing his v line. “rafe,” you pouted, and he decided to be nice and let them fall down, now unclothed as he kicked off his shoes and settled ontop of you, marking your chest and neck immediately.

sighing with content, you held him close and let his lips suck on your flesh, until the arousal was too much and he began to grind against you, slowly. your cunt was already becoming slick again as he rubbed against your thigh.

rafe lift himself up to his knees, pumping his cock, the point of his tongue poking out from the side of his mouth in concentration. the image of your breasts on display for him, and your lips parted and chest thumping was enough to make the boy cum on the spot.

he raised a brow at you, making sure you were still okay, and once getting a quick nod, he pressed the head of his cock against your folds. in the next second, he was thrusting into you, earning a loud gasp from you, which he covered with a hand on your mouth.

“shh, ‘m gonna fuck you good, okay? just lay there and look pretty,” he teased, but you nodded, wanting nothing more than to do as he said.

the thrusts started out mild, but soon quickened tempo, hips stuttering against yours as he wrapped a hand around your leg and pulled it over his shoulder. this allowed a better angle, and you moaned with him as he repeatedly pounded into your already sensitive cunt.

you slid a hand down your bouncing breasts and stomach, then to your throbbing clit, soothing it with your gentle fingers before rafe slapped them away, as if saying “mine.”

his own hand went around your propped up leg to thumb at your clit, whilst the other made a path over your hips and breasts, fondling with the mound of flesh and pinching your nipple.

the overstimulation was rushing through you violently, his thrusts becoming sloppy, orgasm at the brink. you watched his head fly back, eyes rolling and mouth a gape, hypnotized by how pretty he looked even when he was fucking you.

“rafe,” you repeatedly mumbled, forming no other words in your clouded mind.

“hm? does it feel good? d’you like the way i fuck you, pretty girl?”

“y-yeah, so good,” you hummed, your own head rolling back onto the pillow, hips thrusting up to meet his and satisfy the hunger that once again boiled in your core.

“i’m gonna cum on your tits, are you gonna be good for me?” he said just as your orgasm was about to wash you away, and you nodded fast, once again wanting to be the best you could for him.

then, you came, waves of pleasure splashing through you before he pulled out, still thumbing your sensitive bundle of nerves, using his free hand to fist his cock which hovered over your breasts.

you held your tits in two shaky hands, squeezing them together and massaging them while rafe came, painting your breasts and stomach until he had milked out every last drop he could. he mumbled yes’s and fuck’s, along with your name until his high died down.

breathing harshly, you set ur sight to the ceiling, deep intakes of air causing the ends of rafe’s lips to turn upwards slightly. he leaned down to place one last kiss on your flushed cheek before letting himself fall onto the mattress beside you.

“let’s clean you up,” rafe said, turning to look at you, “the party’s not over yet.”

uhhhh yeah idk how i feel ab this i hope it wasn't terrible ig. reblogs appreciated :)

@o-rion-sta-r @saggyb1lls @rylynn-m @dobbysockcollection @arcaneslut @arianagreyy @el-imaskingforyourlefthand

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader smut #rafe x reader #outer banks #outer banks smut #outer banks fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you smut

541 notes · View notes

misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 3 years

Text

destiel, 2.4k, mild hurt/comfort, happy ending. for @wormstacheangel who wanted a fic with anemic!Cas <3

"Cas?"

Dean hears a flump from the direction of the bedroom right as he finishes shaving his left cheek. It takes him about five seconds from there to dashing out of the bathroom, sink hastily turned off and half of his neck still covered in white, wearing an expression of worry that doesn't quite go with the foam beard.

Cas seems to hold the same opinion because his face splits in a wide grin the moment Dean enters the room.

A grin almost distracting enough for Dean to not notice that Cas is back on the bed, and suddenly wearing a blanket.

Almost.

"Goddammit, Cas." He sighs, huffing as panic slips away to make room for exasperation. He walks up to the bed, sets about righting the blanket around Cas.

Cas lets him.

"I should've known -"

"- Dean, I forgot -"

"- you were going to ditch your meds the first night after I stop bugging you 'bout them." Dean mutters, ignoring Cas completely as he makes weak attempts at protesting when Dean tucks one corner of his blanket all the way round at the other side, effectively turning him into what he mentally likes to call a Cas-burrito.

He doesn't like to call it anything at the moment though, cause right now, it's just proof of how Cas doesn’t listen.

Friggin' ex-angel of the lord, billions of years old, with libraries worth of stories and history in his head — but taking his meds when they're supposed to be taken, he forgets.

"It wasn't on purpose." Cas insists in a small voice, and Dean shoots an annoyed look at him before stepping back, finally finished with the blanket routine.

If you could call it that.

Well, Dean does call it that.

Because it happened often enough times after Cas's return from the Empty, human as the day Dean was born, to prompt both a title, and a reason to investigate why in the first place.

And not a lot of road to cover from typing in Cas's symptoms in a search engine — headaches, spells of dizziness, fatigue and feeling cold in general (things Cas had dictated to Sam who was typing, while Dean seethed from the next chair at not having been priorly informed of most of those things that warrant being informed about) — to ending up at the conclusion of a few billion (but actually just the first four) results, just minutes after.

Cas had anemia.

(The doctor Dean took him to the very next day, and Sam's completed research on the Novaks' medical history by the time they got back, confirmed it.)

Now, as far as the Winchesters were concerned, that was practically a relief — especially since their next place to look would've been old, tired books of curses, and the meekest of those would've been several times more worrying than the awfullest case of anemia one could possibly get - and Cas's, thankfully, wasn't even that bad.

However, curses are reversible. Or at least, equally as destroyable as their curse-rs are — who, usually, tend to be pretty destroyable when it comes to Sam and Dean.

Mineral deficiencies, on the other hand, are neither.

So supplements it is, as the doctor said and then prescribed — or so it should have been anyways, except for how the love of Dean's life was a giant baby when it came to taking pills.

"Sure it wasn't." Dean rolls his eyes, continuing in his exaggerated 'Cas' voice. "You just forgot."

Cas squint-frowns at Dean with all the ferociousness of a tired, cold and anemic four-weeks-old human, and Dean perches next to him on the edge of their bed with a sigh, the exasperation wearing off too.

(If he hadn't already wrapped them up, this would've been about the time Dean would've taken Cas's hands in his own.)

"Cas," He says, softer now.

Truth be told, Dean can't imagine what it must be like to go from being a - a being, that can heal itself and everything else, to a human who gets shivery and lightheaded cause of things inside of him he can't even control.

It's got to be terrifying, and obviously awful, and Dean's proud of Cas for the way he's been handling all of it — but dammit he's supposed to do the things that make it easier.

Just like he's supposed to let Dean take care of him.

"Dean," Cas replies, looking sideways at him with most of the stubbornness melted from his expression as well. "I'm a little cold but it's okay. I'm fine." He says, like he can still tell exactly what Dean needs to hear.

What he needs Cas to be.

There's a pause and Dean looks down at his hands. He can't help his next question, it's been on his mind for some time.

"What about the first time you were human?"

Cas noticeably withdraws into himself on hearing him, and Dean feels immediately a pang of guilt. It may have gotten easier to read him since he became human, but an accidental display of emotion was still a novelty. (Being difficult to read was apparently more of a Cas trait than an angel feature.)

"What about it?"

"Shouldn't you, uh," Dean pauses. "Shouldn't you also have been anemic then?"

Cas turns away from him, slow enough that Dean knows he's not taken offense, deliberate enough that he's thinking.

He finally answers, facing the wall ten feet away instead of Dean.

"I guess I was."

"But," Dean frowns. "I thought you had no idea you had anemia until last week."

"Dean, I didn't even know there was anything wrong with me until last week." Cas returns, his tone steady. "And back when I was human for the first time, I didn't either, because I'd never known what healthy felt like before, so I had no idea if I was or wasn't it. Of course I knew in an objective sense, say, the ideal temperature of the human body, but the ordinary amount of chilly one should feel on the streets in winter, or how hard or easy falling asleep is supposed to be, I couldn't have told you."

"Oh."

"And I still wouldn't have been able to," Cas turns back to him. "Had you not been the one to point it out."

Dean scoffs.

All he'd done was ask why Cas had been shivering in the middle of the day. That was it. Honestly, how could he not have seen it sooner?

"So you just," Dean lets out, afraid of the answer. "You just thought the cold spells and the, uh," he falters. "The being tired all the time — you thought that was part of being human?"

Cas smiles wryly. "It is for a lot of people."

"But —"

"And it was, Dean, anemia or not, for a lot of the people I lived with back then."

Dean's stomach bottoms out. He knows Cas is right. Six years ago, he'd been living on the streets, living in a bus. Dean remembers him — homeless, cold, sleeping on the floor of a Gas 'N Sip in his only set of clothes, Cas. And he knows he's responsible for it — knows he deserves to be hated for it, and it messes with him everyday that Cas doesn't — but did Cas really not even know what Dean had done to him? What Dean had — and Jesus, he detests himself — made him go through?

"You really thought all of us were going through that," Dean blinks. "And none of us was saying a thing?"

Cas doesn't look away this time and Dean goes on.

"I mean, I know you put humanity on a pedestal it doesn't deserve, and you think we're all capable of things you're capable of, but Cas, I can't believe you associated being human with being cold and tired, and —" Dean scrubs his face with a hand. "Goddammit, Cas! How could I have let you go out there on your own when you — h-how did I not see it, and — and you should never have had to deal with it all alone, I should've —"

"Dean."

It's not until Cas interrupts him that he realizes he's been rambling. Ranting, really, because it's not fair that Cas only got to see the worst of humanity, and it's not fair that Cas was so used to feeling awful that he just figured everyone felt that way all the time. That Cas was all alone at a time Dean should've been there for him, should've been at his side, been there to make sure he was warm, and make sure he ate spinach and seafood and whatever the hell else is rich in iron — hell, Dean should've looked it up sooner — and Dean should've been able to tell that Cas was sick, even if Cas couldn't, because that's his job.

He hasn't felt this way in a while — this particularly familiar fear of failing Cas, and losing Cas, entwined horribly, returning to him; seeping back in through his skin, and settling on his bones like the vast sediments of guilt and loss he's been carrying for most of his life.

Cas is supposed to be okay, and Dean's supposed to make sure he is.

But so far as upto here, turns out Dean's just been failing in more ways than he'd even known.

"Dean," Cas repeats, pulling him out of his reverie with determination in his voice, and a hand on Dean's left arm, his blanket now hanging off of one shoulder.

Dean immediately reaches to make it right but Cas holds him right where he is. Physically and not-drowning-in-his-own-head wise, and he's the only one who can do that.

"You're not listening to me."

Shit, Cas had been speaking this entire time, hadn't he? "Sorry, I was -" Dean looks Cas in the face to apologize, and lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, cause thank god, Cas isn't that pale. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Cas smiles, and it's not lopsided anymore, it's just Cas.

(Dean wonders if he should try to mirror it.)

"I was just saying that now I know that that's not the only part of being human."

"What do you mean?"

"The pain and the suffering, Dean. That's not all." Cas says. "There's also love, and kindness, and worry of the non-lifethreatening kind that dissipates with a smile, and warmth."

Dean stares at him.

"And sure," Cas shrugs. "I knew those things before too — I've read books, I've watched you and Sam — but now I've felt them as humans do, for the very first time, so it's a different kind of knowing."

Cas takes Dean's hand in his, and Dean's the one who squeezes.

"I believe the human expression is 'knowing it in my bones'."

Dean lets out a strained laugh in spite of himself. "Dunno, man. I don't think that's exactly what that means."

"But I do know it in my bones." Cas says simply, and Dean's heart does that thing where it feels too big for his chest. How Cas could go through so much, and still be so full of kindness and good, is one of the mysteries of life Dean's never going to solve — but it doesn't stop him from falling a little bit harder every time it happens.

"You should've gotten to know it the last time too, Cas." Dean tells him, sighing again. "I'm just — I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Well, you are now." Cas tilts his head. "And I prefer the things I'm learning this time over the last time anyway, and I believe it's you who's always taught me that the present is what matters the most. I'm just glad you're here this time."

"And I'm not going anywhere." Dean squeezes their hands tighter, and Cas's smile grows. God, he deserves the world and he keeps settling for Dean, doesn't he — and Dean hates it, and loves it, and couldn't live without it. He puts his other hand on Cas's face, gloving his cheek. Cas leans closer.

"I love you."

Dean's throat constricts. "You're too good to me."

"I think that's the point."

Dean can't help but smile, and he really can't help the tears.

"I'm okay." Cas says, once more. "Are you?"

There's only one answer, and nothing to fight this time.

Dean closes the gap.

"I love you too."

It's not their first kiss, nor is it the first time they've ever said it — but it feels more significant than anything's felt before. It's more them, too — not sickly-sweet or angry and fighting, just them, coming around to the end of a hard talk, falling into each other's arms with an ease they reserve for each other only, and sinking into each other, slow and perfectly synced, like they're made for it.

When they pull back, a moment later, Dean leans his forehead against Cas's and licks his lips. Breathes.

"There's so much more to being human," he hears himself saying. "Than you'd ever find out just living here in the bunker with us."

"Dean," it's Cas's turn to sigh. "I've already found everything I need."

Dean's cheeks heat up. "I thought it was never too late to learn."

"It isn't." Cas leans back, hands falling back to his sides from where they were wrapped around Dean's neck. "But sometimes, practising old things is more important."

Dean immediately dissolves into laughter. "Yeah, no, great going. Call me old before you go to town practising on me."

Cas ignores him save a twinkle in his eyes. "And some things, I'd like us to learn together."

Dean grins.

"And some things," Cas concludes, with a wide smile. "Aren't taught anywhere else in the world."

"Yeah?"

Cas shrugs.

"Why so?"

"Well, rumor has it the teacher's afraid of flying."

Dean freezes for a moment, silent, and then snorts — because yeah, that's funny, Ha Ha, but okay, if Cas is fit enough to make jokes, then he's fit enough to take his meds now, and Dean tells him that gleefully, resulting in Cas's grin immediately turning upside down as he tries to scoot away from Dean, except Dean's kinda expecting it so he's prepared to launch himself on the bed if he has to — and he does have to, cause Dean might love him for his heart, and his courage, and his kindness, but remember how Cas is just a baby in a trenchcoat?

Yeah.

(And that is just a regular morning in the Winchester household.)

#destiel #destiel fic #angst with a happy ending #destiel kiss #deancas fluff #cas angst #well. minor angst.#long post #i really hope you like it Rubi <33 #it got considerably longer (and sadder in the middle) than i'd expected it to be?? but oh well :'))#nyrawyra #userpris #userdee #spncreatorsdaily #dean pov #kashmircastiel #friendshapedcastiel #rambleoncas #oh writing my writing

330 notes · View notes

peanutpinet · 3 years

Text

Lucas (mafia leader) x Reader (female)

A/N: I had this thought for days now and was like, ya know, just let it out. This is my first NCT (?) WayV (?) fanfic? Scenario? Yea XD For those who have read my past fanfics/scenarios, you know how horrible I am in explaining XD but yea, essentially I just imagine that you, the reader are a uni student whilst Lucas is part of the NCT mafia, "leader" of the WayV unit (I know Kun is technically the leader, but just for the sake of the story), okie, leggo

Sighing in defeat, you gathered all your books, stationery and some clothing before sneakily going out of your dorm and to your boyfriend's apartment since he gave you the spare key, saying that it was for emergencies or whenever you wanted to come over.

After texting Lucas that you were heading to his apartment, you went to grab a cab and head there. Truth be told, you never really went there and only got the address from Lucas. Which is why upon arriving, your jaw nearly dropped when you saw his apartment; even making sure whether the address Lucas gave last time was the exact one and making a mental note to yourself to look up things beforehand.

Upon arriving, you felt like you just came from the countryside to the big city. You went to the front desk and inform them who were you looking for, handing in your ID card and was immediately directed to the elevator, one of the securities pressing the highest floor of the elevator and left you in the elevator on your own.

Just when you thought that it couldn't get any fancier, the minute you stepped out of the elevator, you were amazed at the decor and the fact that there was only one door made it even grander. Taking out the key Lucas gave you, you were actually hoping that it wasn't the correct one and Lucas just sent you the wrong address but as it turns out, the key fits and you took a deep breath, walking into the room.

But on Lucas' side, he actually didn't receive your text message. So, the second he heard someone coming into his suite, he was already reaching for his gun because he wasn't really expecting anyone to come. But as soon as he heard your signature nervous voice, he felt relieved but worried at the same time. Did something happen to you?

"Lucas? Ar-are you in here? The people at the front desk just directed me here. I uh sent you a text" you called out

"I'm here sweetheart. Now, what brings you here at this late hour? Is there anyone I should be concern with?" Lucas stated, coming out of his bedroom

"Huh? Wow. I mean, no. Sorry, it's my first time here. I uh, I was just wondering if I could stay for the night. The dorm was so loud that I couldn't study nor sleep" you admitted, trying to avoid eye contact with Lucas, thinking that it was a lame excuse to come over

"Of course you can. I gave you the spare key for a reason, didn't I? Uh, sorry about the mess and all. I didn't expect you to come. I didn't receive any messages. C'mere sweetheart" Lucas mentioned, giving a hand motion for you to go to him

"Really?! I could've sworn I...(looks at your phone) I forgot to click the send button" you sighed, hitting your head as you went over to Lucas

"Hey, hey. Don't do that. You'll hurt your brain even more. No harm sweetheart. My place is yours. Come. I'll order some McDonalds as well if you'd like" Lucas cooed, bringing you into his office

"Damn. Two desktops?! Bro and this processor is the latest one?!" you commented, placing your bag down and immediately inspecting his desk

"Sometimes I play some games with the guys. Feel free to use it if you'd like. Lemon tea or coke?" Lucas asked, scrolling through his phone

"Lemon tea, no ice. It's worth the money better. Are you sure I can study here? Am I not disturbing you?" you questioned, sitting on the chair

"Not at all, sweetheart. It's almost 10pm. I'm done with work. You're free to use my computer. I've ordered your favourites already. I'm going to go for a shower for a bit. Feel free to turn on some music as well, alright? And please don't study for too long. I worry you'll hurt that gorgeous head of yours" Lucas chuckled, kissing your forehead before leaving you in his study room

After settling, putting on some music with your account (which was already in Lucas' Spotify), you grabbed your books and stationery then started to study for your finals. In the midst of it, you heard Lucas coming in with McDonalds; wearing a plain T-shirt and sweats.

Because there was only one chair in his office, with your consent, Lucas placed you on his lap as he was feeding you McDonalds whilst scrolling through his phone, occasionally leaning his head on your back as he does so.

After finishing the food, Lucas was about to get up and cleaned up so you could study a bit better since he knew you didn't like a messy space but when he felt your head slightly leaning backwards, he questioned whether you were already sleepy or not.

"What's wrong love? Tired?" Lucas murmured as he placed his chin on your neck, wrapping his long arms around your waist

"Huh? Oh? Sorry. I didn't realise I was leaning back" you yawned, scrubbing your eyes but Lucas stopped the motion

"Don't. Your eyes will get irritated. I think it's about time you sleep, hmm?" Lucas commented, tucking a hair behind your ear as he kissed the side of your cheek

"Hmm. I guess so" you sighed, leaning onto Lucas's chest

"Alright princess, let me just shut everything off. Kay, let's go to bed" Lucas chuckled, carrying your small figure in his arms and tucking you into his bed before going to the other side of the bed

The next morning, you were woken up by the sound of your phone's alarm but just stayed in bed whilst scrolling through your phone until you realised that you had exams that starts in 45 minutes. Immediately, you got up and went back to the study room to grab your clothes, without even calling out to Lucas and head to the bathroom to get ready.

After getting ready, you were so ready to rush out the door and call a cab until Lucas finally called out to you. Once you told him that your exam was starting in literally 15 minutes, he just chuckled and told you that he'll drive you there; which was a first since all this time, you guys just have dates near your campus since your dorm had strict rules and Lucas would just walk you there (A/N: how you guys met is a story for next time, lol).

After packing some food for you, Lucas grabbed his car keys in one hand and your hand in the other, making your way down to the parking lot where your jaw also almost dropped again since the car Lucas owned is probably enough to pay your whole entire undergraduate life.

Whilst in the car, Lucas told you to eat so you wouldn't be hungry during the exam. He also mentioned that he'll come to pick you up to celebrate finishing your finals since he knew that you've been stressing over this last final for weeks; saying that he'll treat you out.

Once you've arrived, Lucas pulled you to give a slight peck on your forehead, encouraging you to do well in your finals and that he'll see you right after you're done. You smiled and thank him. Getting out of the car, you saw nearly the whole campus that was by the front gate staring at you; even your friends were stunned before rushing to you, managing to get a glimpse at Lucas who just smiled before leaving.

"Gurl!! I knew your boyfriend was hot, but well off? You definitely hit the jackpot!!" one of your friends blurted

"Sis!! Can we save the conversation for later? I need to get this exam over with first" you bargained

"Okay, okay, good luck with your exams!! I'll see you later!!" your friend exclaimed as you went to your exam hall

Thankfully, the exam wasn't as hard as you'd thought. You didn't know if it's because Lucas actually helped you study since he actually knew the subject or something else but you were glad to finally be done with it. After the exam, you got a text from Lucas, saying that he'll be running a bit late which you didn't mind. Your friend, who was also done with her exam, came to your exam hall and didn't spare a second before plastering with all sorts of questions.

Asking you where you've been the night before since you weren't at your dorm; and when you told her you were at Lucas' place, she squealed, asking if you guys did anything spicy which you immediately cut her off, saying that you just went there to study because the rooms near yours were getting too loud and rowdy.

You also explained how kind and caring Lucas was; despite the amount of work he had to deal with, he was still soft when it came to you. Ordering your favourites from McDonalds, letting you just barged into his apartment whenever and even using whatever he had; hearing this, all your friend can do was just squeal, saying that Lucas was the perfect boyfriend.

And right on cue, Lucas texted you saying that he's almost at the front gate. Your friend saw your smile and teased the heck out of you before letting you off just because she supported your relationship; knowing that you had a rough past and it was nice to finally see you happy with someone; someone that genuinely cares about you.

But of course, life ain't that easy. Because just as you were skidding along the halls to the front gate, you accidentally bumped into someone and dropped your phone. You immediately apologised about to get your phone when the person you bumped into stepped on your phone. Looking up, you met with the campus' miss popular with her boyfriend.

"Can you please let go. I really have to go now" you sighed, looking up

"Can't your boyfriend get you another one? Oh wait, is he the one that you're meeting? Honestly, I dunno what he sees in you. Oh wait, I think I do. He's probably just in it to play around or probably did it because of a bet" the girl scoffed but you were just not having it and shoved her feet off, nearly falling if it weren't for her boyfriend being there

After getting your phone, you were about to make a run for it before she grabbed your hair, pulling you back and making you fall; calling you names and all. When you got back to your feet again, she nearly slapped you when you got ahold of her hand about to push her back when her boyfriend came and took your hand, twisting it behind your back, allowing an opening for her to get a good punch out of you.

It felt like forever since you were trapped between the two "bullies" of your campus and for Lucas, it meant something was wrong. It's been almost 30 minutes since he arrived and called you but there was no answer at all. Frustrated, he called Winwin to track your phone as he went in to find you; thinking that you were held captive by one of NCT's enemy.

When he did see you, he felt a slight relief that it wasn't one of NCT's enemy but he was still very much pissed at the sight. When the girl was about to hit you for like the 15th time, Lucas grabbed ahold of her arm, throwing her to the floor before looking at her boyfriend who turns out to be one of the bartenders in one of NCT's bars.

"B-boss..." the man stammered, letting go of your hand as you almost dropped if it weren't for Lucas catching you

"You better come to work tonight. We'll have a lil discussion about respect? Hmm? Make sure everyone comes. Or I'll just have to report Taeyong about this" Lucas growled, making the man cowered in fear

"N-no sir. Everyone will come tonight" the man stuttered as Lucas stood up, holding your figure firmly in his arms

"Good. Wouldn't want to make a big deal out of this hmm? Oh, and do bring your girlfriend while I take mine to treat the wounds you both caused" Lucas scoffed, bringing you out of the campus

Once you've reached his car, he gently placed you and put your seatbelt on before going to the driver's seat. Once he was in, he called Kun, telling him what happened and that he's planning to have a meeting later tonight in the bar. After the call, Lucas took your hand in his, stroking your knuckles as he drove back to his apartment.

Upon arriving, he helped you get out of the car and into his apartment. Inside, he brought you to his room before going to the bathroom and grabbing some medicine for your bruised face and cut on the lips. Lucas treated all your wounds as gently as possible, worrying that he might accidentally hurt you, treating you as if you're as fragile as an egg.

After he was done, he threw all the cotton buds and ordered some food for the both of you; knowing that you will tell him whenever you're ready. He put his hoodie onto you before bringing you to the living room to cuddle and just watch the whole day. Occasionally, food will come and it was all from your favourite restaurants.

After the next 5th Disney movie ended, you told Lucas that you wanted to take a shower and he told you that you can borrow any of his clothes. He even said that he'll run you a bath but you told him that you were just going to take a light shower which Lucas didn't mind. Whilst you were showering, Lucas prepared a T-shirt and shorts along with the hoodie you were just wearing.

After your shower and putting on the clothes Lucas prepared, Lucas came and redid the medicine on your wounds before going back to watching some heart-warming movies on the bed. Feeling better, you decided to tell Lucas what happened and whilst it seemed that he was calm, his mind was off wondering the endless possibilities of teaching the two that harm you; whether it'd be physically or mentally.

Either way, Lucas listened to all your rambles, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, leaning you onto his chest, giving kisses on your forehead, cheeks and occasionally your neck, chuckling when he saw you flustered; basically making you 10x better, treating you like a queen up until you fell asleep.

When you did fall asleep, he gently tucked you into bed, kissing your forehead, smiling at your sleeping figure before leaving the room to the bar where he was more than ready to make the two-person harmed you suffer; not forgetting to ask Hendery and Yangyang to come over to watch over you.

"Sleep tight sweetheart. I'll be back before you know it, alright? No one treats my queen like trash and gets away with it" Lucas mumbled, kissing your forehead as he left as quietly as possible

and let's just say that everyone in the bar that night experienced a side of Lucas that no one would like to see or hear ever again.

"Try and lay a finger on her again, I won't be so nice next time" Lucas scoffed, seeing all the staff looked down, especially the two-person who hurt you

A/N: I hope that this was alright but yea, this fanfic has been stuck in my head for days

186 notes · View notes

coulson-is-an-avenger · 3 years

Note

kisses 21 jm!

For the prompt “we’ll face this together” kiss. TY SAHAR!!! OKAY I accidentally had one (1) jonbinary idea and then it ended up being SO FUCKING LONG (like 2.5k long) so uh. yeah. Warnings for descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of kidnapping and self loathing, and Jon getting pretty close to a panic attack. Also disclaimer, although I am nonbinary, I’m not transfem, so if there’s any critiques surrounding that, don’t hesitate to let me know. Stay safe y’all!

Jon’s face itches as he faces the mirror like an old foe. It’s long held an image that hurts him to see; aged by unfathomable horrors and dotted with marks like a canvas before a child’s paint tipped fingers, and these days he can’t even be sure that his reflection looks away from him when he turns his head. But, the devil it holds at the moment is the simple reflection of his short beard, and his face itches at the reminder of it.

It isn’t a physical itch. It lurks under the skin, poking and prodding at his senses, rubbing him the wrong way as he lays his cheek on his pillow, leaving a distracting echo when his chin brushes against Martin’s during a kiss, scraping at the inside of his skin as he stares at himself and takes in the sight of it covering his chin.

He scrubs his fingers over his eyelids. He isn’t ignorant, he realizes the discomfort he feels is most likely somewhat gender-related, but it’s… his relationship with his gender is complicated. In a lot of ways, it’s been such a mundane concern recently that he’s somewhat lost track of where he stands with it, but he remembers how it felt to first wear a skirt into the archives, all those long years ago. How gentle Sasha had been with him back then, even if the memory pinches the back of his head and grins with too many teeth and a short haircut that he knows now was wrong. But the Stranger cannot take that act of kindness away from her, even if it took away the face he remembers sharing it with.

He had felt like he was becoming something new, then, staring at a new path, freshly paved in his life, open to the possibilities of self discovery and certainty. Then his life had been riddled with worms and his friends had been carved out, one by screaming one, and he was on the run and set alight and kidnapped and disabled and nearly killed and kidnapped again and nearly killed and—

Jon remembers, vaguely, a flash of what had happened in the month he was… gone. He doesn’t remember most of what happened in that place. Probably for the better, he tells himself, but he does recall one thing. One very simple thing, really; that he hadn’t been able to shave, and he remembers the itch being all he could focus on for days at a time.

One of the first things he had done after stumbling through Michael-now-Helen’s door-not-deathtrap was drag himself to a sink and shave his face raw, burned hand be damned. His skin had suffered afterwards, nicked and irritated beneath its smoothness, and he had taken some strange, morbid comfort in the blemish he was able to inflict, after so many days of hearing hollow voices sing of its beauty.

This is a dangerous line of thought, he realizes, hands pressed against the bathroom sink, his heartbeat starting to pound in his ears. He desperately does not want to think about that, not here, and preferably not ever again, if he can help it.

He tries to bring himself back to the here and now, grounding himself in the feeling of porcelain under his palms, but the victory over his mind is a hollow one, unfortunately, as it brings him right back to the itching under his skin.

He’s not sure if this itch is exasperated by his own self consciousness, or by the lingering sting of the Lonely that threatened to separate him from himself, but it builds until its all he can feel in his skin, on his face, and he finds himself lunging across the counter, knocking things over in an attempt to hunt down Martin’s razor.

Jon had lost his own somewhere in the chaos of living in the archives, but he’s sure he saw Martin trim his own short beard when they first arrived at the safehouse, so it must be here, he thinks, ripping open drawers, it must— aha!

His fist closes around the razor, hidden under the sink next to a small bottle of shaving cream and Martin’s testosterone shots, and he barely gives a thought to what he’s doing before raising it to his dry cheek, just needing this thing off, and—

“Jon? You know that’s not how to do that, right?”

Jon whips around like lightning, his back to the sink and the razor clenched in his fist against his chest like a talisman, breathing heavily.

Martin had been smiling slightly as he entered the bathroom, but the expression quickly falls from his face as he takes in the panicked look on Jon’s face, and the erratic motion of his free hand, clenched into a fist at his side and twitching in an attempt to calm himself. Martin steps forward quickly, outstretching a hand.

“Jon, love? Are you alright?”

Jon fixes his eyes on Martin; kind, beautiful Martin who still goes a bit grey at the fingertips and the eyes when anxiety seizes him, Martin who has always been there, always been there, ever since the beginning. Jon anchors himself as he looks at that familiar, beloved face, and tries to take a breath.

“I-I don’t know,” He manages, because this all feels very silly now. He’s a grown person standing in the center of a bathroom, clutching his boyfriend’s shaving razor like it’s a weapon, for God’s sake, all because of what? Some facial hair? Good Lord, he’s being ridiculous. “Probably, I just… um.” He trails off, gut sinking as emotions spiral through him, too fast to pin down and name.

“Okay,” Martin says gently, shuffling a step closer. “Why do you have that?” He gestures to the razor in Jon’s hand, and Jon twitches, holding it closer.

“I need to borrow it,” He explains, stumbling. “I can’t- I need-“ He makes a frustrated noise and tries to get his thoughts to align. He inhales deeply and tries again. “I need to …shave. This-“ he gestures jerkily towards his face. “This is too much.”

Martin nods carefully, eyes glued to Jon’s face. “Too much?” His question is as gentle as his eyes, and Jon has to glance away for a moment, overwhelmed by being seen.

“It’s… complicated,” He begins, the fist pressed to his chest beginning to lighten up. “It… it just itches, all the time. Like- like a thousand ants under my skin, w-which is ridiculous because it doesn’t actually hurt or itch or- or anything, it just…” he glances back to Martin’s eyes, furtive and desperate for him to understand. “I need it to stop.”

“Oh,” Martin softens even more before Jon’s eyes, his face melting with understanding and sadness. “Oh, Jon. I didn’t realize you were having dysphoria.”

At the word dysphoria Jon glances sharply up, uncertainty fraught on his face, and Martin backtracks quickly.

“Or- s-sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. Is it-”

“N-no, Martin, it-it’s fine.” Jon waves Martin’s nerves aside and finds that he finally has a decent enough hold on his own to lower the hand that had been pressed against his chest. He turns around in the bathroom and sits down on the edge of the bathtub, sighing heavily. “It might be dysphoria, I don’t…” He hesitates, chuckling slightly. “I’m not quite sure I know it well enough to place it. Gender hasn’t exactly been… a priority these days.”

Martin nods and follows him deeper into the bathroom, setting down the lid of the toilet so he can sit on it and listen to Jon blunder through his feelings.

“It might be? I mean… I know I’m not a man, per say, but it… I mean, it could also be so many other things at this point. It’s just- I know it’s stupid to overthink, but—“

“Hey, hey,” Martin cuts him off, extending a hand to brush against the side of his knee. “It isn’t stupid, Jon. You don’t have to have a label or a reason in order to be uncomfortable. It’s- you’re allowed to call it just that; uncomfortable.”

Jon nods, looking down at the hands clasped in his lap.

“I know. It just hit me so suddenly, I-” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead, careful to avoid brushing any of the hairs on his face. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Martin murmurs, and his hand rests more solidly on Jon’s knee. “Is this alright?”

Jon nods mutely, and lets himself expel some more of the tension in his shoulders as he focuses on the motion of Martin’s thumb sweeping softly over his knee.

“It reminds me of the circus,” Jon breathes after a moment of silence, and Martin’s hand stills against him, attentive and horrified. “When- when they…” He inhales sharply, willing his voice not to break. “Well, I couldn’t very well shave it,” He clenches his hands into fists again, still holding the razor tightly in his right. “Got it off as quickly as possible once I could.”

Martin exhales. “I remember that. I thought you just… I dunno, just really nicked yourself. I didn’t think about… yeah.”

“Yes,” Jon agrees, keeping his gaze on the hand on his knee. “I-I mean, I definitely did, nick myself that is. I wasn’t really thinking about doing it properly, I suppose.”

“Like just now?” Martin asks, kindly, gently, not judging. Jon feels his chest pinch anyways.

“Yes.” He admits quietly. Martin leans down to press a careful kiss to Jon’s knee.

“Okay, well, this time we’ll do it properly,” Martin raises himself from the toilet seat, reaching down into the cupboards to pull forth the shaving cream and a towel, and holds them out towards Jon.

Jon blinks, looks at the objects and then up at Martin, unsure of what’s being offered. “Sorry?”

“You still want the beard off, right? Let’s just make sure you don’t upset your skin,” He cracks a humorous smile. “Then it’ll actually start itching.”

Jon takes the can from his hand, but still frowns. “Us?”

“I- yeah,” Martin shifts his weight, fidgeting with the towel. “I can help, if that’s alright with you. You don’t… always seem to handle mirrors the best? And I’ve helped shave another person before so… yeah. If you want.”

Jon’s world stutters to a blushing halt. Martin’s right, he doesn’t like to linger on his face in mirrors even on the best days (of which today is certainly not one) and as much as he’s accustomed to doing this himself, what Martin is promising is intimate; an extension of vulnerability and the promise of a care that he hardly takes with himself. The more he considers it, the more finds himself tentatively wanting it, and he nods carefully. He trusts Martin, he’s decided a thousand times by now.

“Alright,” He agrees, and smiles.

Martin smiles in response. “Alright. Do you want me to um-” He gestures with the towel in his hand, and Jon nods.

Martin makes quick work of running the towel under the tap until it’s warm, and then wringing it out so it’s ready to actually use. He takes his seat again and tips Jon’s head back with a hand to lay the towel gently overtop, letting the warmth seep into his skin. It’s more effort than Jon usually puts in, or used to, when he did this more regularly, but he finds it’s a nice feeling, and he almost misses it when Martin takes the towel away again.

“Right,” Martin continues, looks pointedly to the can of shaving cream in Jon’s hand and Jon hesitates.

“Ah. Maybe not that part? Th-the actual shaving is fine, but-”

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Martin nods, not questioning, and reaches forward instead to gently take the razor itself from Jon’s fist so he can use both hands to get the shaving cream on his face. Jon surrenders the razor, forcing himself to trust it in Martin’s hands, to trust that Martin won’t just leave him hanging.

He tries not to think too hard about the feeling of the cream on his skin. It’s a far cry from lotion, so it doesn’t bring up any sense memories, thankfully, but it’s still an uncomfortable texture, and he focuses on the sound of Martin’s breathing to keep himself from slipping.

Fortunately it doesn’t take long; soon enough Jon’s finished, wiping his hands on his trousers, and then Martin’s shifting closer, taking Jon’s face in his hands like it’s something precious, something to be loved and cared for. He is very close, his dark brown eyes nearly black with focus as he gently reaffirms that Jon’s sure about this, and then the cool razor swipes across Jon’s cheek.

Jon’s heart lurches in his chest, a messy combination of nerves and gratefulness, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move at all, and just watches Martin focus with gentle certaintly as the blade passes over his cheeks again and again in careful, confident strokes. His fingers whisper at Jon’s chin when he tilts up his head and swipes the blade carefully up the top of his throat, brow furrowed and tongue poking out of his lips in concentration.

Jon holds his breath, wills his heart to still, but it’s alright, with Martin it’s always alright. His hands are warm as they cup his cheeks, tilt him this way and that, thorough in their task, and his fingertips are gentle as they lift his chin and brush away foam and ghost over his throat. He never even comes close to nicking him, and Jon feels a great warmth unspooling in his chest, stinging his eyes.

“All done,” Martin finishes triumphantly, his face breaking into a grin as he hands Jon the towel again, lets him wipe off his own face.

There’s no coarse texture as the fabric touches his face, no itching or discomfort as it drags over his chin, and the steady drumbeat of wrongness that had pervaded him for weeks finally, finally dissipates, unblocking his lungs and releasing the tightness from his shoulders. He runs a hand over his chin, and finds a shy smile quickly taking over his face, affection and relief filling him up from the inside out and spilling onto his features.

“Thank you,” He breathes, and Martin matches his smile with one of his own, and nods, nothing but respect and affection in his eyes.

“Any time,” Martin says seriously, before reaching out to take Jon’s hand and slowly bringing it to his lips, giving Jon ample time to pull away. “You don’t have to struggle with this stuff alone,” He murmurs against Jon’s knuckles. “It’s easier together.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jon’s response is quiet, and Martin kisses his hand then; gentle, and full of reverence. Jon finds that he could melt right into the floor and be happy for the rest of his life.

He reaches up to pull Martin down into a kiss, gentle and insistent and grateful, lacing his hands in his hair and sighing against his lips at the sensation, noting how nice it feels to kiss his boyfriend without his itching skin pressing at his thoughts.

The kiss stays chaste, and eventually Jon pulls back just enough to press their foreheads together, keeping his eyes closed, reveling in it. “Together, then.” He affirms, and Martin smiles.

“One way or another.”

#sorry this took forever but in my defense im insane so here we are #the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #tma fic #jonmartin fic #jonbinary #nonbinary jonathan sims #gender dysphoria #YES it’s a shaving fic ok listen. listen. im 🥺#my writing #answered #set in the safehouse!!

135 notes · View notes

notquiteaghost · 3 years

Text

alex keeps having wilde not be fine but not giving zolf any time to fix it and i, for one, am sick of it. this is a conversation they have immediately post-211 and i will only accept it not being canon if in 212 they have it instead. it’s 970 words and it’s also on AO3

"Right," Zolf says. "Okay, legalese with the lich, that's not gonna be quick. Can I just–" He glances round, and yep, they're still in a featureless crypt with no other exits. There's shit they need to do, and they can't afford to stop, but nothing is currently trying to kill them (probably, shit he's paranoid about gases now and all), and he can't get the look on Wilde's face out his head. "Look, sorry, but can you all fuck off? I wanna talk to Oscar."

Wilde, naturally, immediately starts up with, "Oh no, I'm fine, Zolf, there's no need–"

Zolf ignores him. Raises an eyebrow at Azu, who says, understanding, sympathetic, "Yes, yes, of course," and Hamid adds, "We can ask about the Cult of Hades, in the meantime," as they all awkwardly shuffle out. It's not a very big crypt.

Just before he pulls the door shut again, Hamid says, "Oh!" And jogs back over to Zolf, holds his hands out. It takes a moment, for Zolf to remember about Babbage. He hands the backpack over, and Hamid nods at him, and leaves with it.

Wilde's stopped protesting, at least, when Zolf turns to look at him. He sighs, instead. "Really, Zolf, it's fine."

"Sure," Zolf agrees. "Haven't had a chance to chat, though, have we? Since– Y'know. And I think you're getting all in your head about it."

"Well," Wilde says, with that horrid kind of cheer he's so good at, "Being fatally stabbed twice in such a short period of time does feel rather like someone's trying to tell me something–"

"Yeah. To wear some damn armour."

Wilde's face just– shutters. He's all layers, Zolf's learnt, a mask over a mask over a mask. And this one isn't even a good one, which means he's definitely more fucked up about this than he wants to admit. Which is fair. If he wasn't fucked up about dying twice in a fortnight, that would be worrying.

Zolf takes a breath, shoves away the memory of anything sticking out Wilde's chest, and says, "Look," as he takes a step closer. "You keep going into dangerous situations with only fancy clothes for protection, you're gonna get injured. You're gonna get injured badly. That's not, I dunno, a sign from the Gods that you're s'posed to be dead, okay, that's basic probability. And," he swallows, glances away, "No matter how many times they try it, I am always gonna bring you back. Kicking and screaming, if I hafta."

Wilde says, "Right." He sounds like Zolf just headbutted him in the gut.

Looks like it, too. Fuck's sake, why is Zolf so bad at this.

"I don't give a shit what the universe has planned," Zolf says. Swears. He reaches for Wilde's hands, twists their fingers together. "I can't do this without you, and no one can fucking make me. You're not– This isn't about whether or not you deserve to be here, okay? 'Cuz I don't care. I'm selfish and I need you. And, y'know, pretty sure I've done a lot worse than you, so if it's you that's meant to be dead it's definitely not about deserving it."

"You are so shit at comforting people," Wilde says, but it's fond.

"Working, ain't it?"

"Yes, I am just as emotionally challenged, we're all aware–"

"Shut up, I'm not done." Wilde huffs, a shadow of a laugh, and gods, Zolf would do absolutely anything to hear that sound. "You don't get to beat yourself up about this, you hear? I'm forbidding it. It's irrelevant. You deserve to be alive, 'cuz everyone does, innately, and there's plenty of people who're genuinely evil who've never been stabbed once. I'm not having fucking Barret make it through this but not you. Okay?"

Wilde huffs, again, and drops to his knees so he can press their foreheads together. It means Zolf's taller than him, too, which is always nice.

"Okay," he says. "I've conned the world's most stubborn cleric into loving me, so now I'm functionally immortal. Finally, all those months of reading your terrible novels and pretending to like your cooking have paid off."

"Nope, changed my mind. Next time I'll let you go."

"No, you won't."

"No, shithead, I won't," Zolf says, because that's how you get anything to sink in with Wilde; you have to catch him off guard. "You're gonna live to a hundred, at least. Two hundred, even. Has a human done that yet? You can be the first."

Wilde huffs another skeleton's laugh. "Not satisfied with cheating Death itself, then? Going to square up with modern medicine as well?"

"I'll fight anyone and anything that tries to take you from me," Zolf swears. Wilde swears, too, dropping his face into Zolf's shoulder and letting out a shuddering breath. Zolf wraps an arm round him, other hand still tangled with Wilde's. "Fuck, I wish this was someone else's job."

Wilde doesn't say anything, not even to make a shitty self-deprecating joke, so Zolf lets the silence sit, too. Pulls Wilde close. Listens to him breathe.

He's okay. He's here, and he's okay, and that's enough. Zolf can keep telling him that. Will keep telling him that, as many times as he needs to. Embroider it on a shirt, maybe.

Eventually, Wilde moves back, runs a hand through his hair, scrubs at his face. Says, "Thank you."

"Yeah," Zolf says. He squeezes Wilde's hand, swallows. Shoves all his feelings back in their box. "Right, then. Lich negotiations."

"You know, there's a lot I could say about our lives of late," Wilde says, as they walk out the crypt, as he pulls his own mask back on in a way probably only noticeable to Zolf, "But I'll give the universe this: They're definitely not boring."

And they get on with the job.

#rusty quill gaming #rqg #zoscar #fic tag #let! them! talk!!!

51 notes · View notes

theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Text

Friday Night Stabby best quotes (Tango birthday edition) part 18 (16/04/21)

Impulse: *zoomies into admin and stands by the table for about 3 seconds* Impulse: OH I don’t even have [the swipe card task]. *laughs* Etho: Uh… Impulse. I did kinda notice that. Impulse: I zoomed in here so fast I didn’t know I didn’t have a task. Etho: You ARE zooming around. Okay, I’ll let it pass. Impulse: *dashes to shields and does the task there* Etho: Actually, I dunno if I’m gonna let it pass. *leaves* Impulse: What?! I just did shields! Impulse, running after Etho: Etho! Love me! LOVE ME!

...

Endless: I think I might be invisible. Etho: Oh no, I was just ignoring you, Endless. Sorry. Skizz: Somebody say something?

...

Skizz: It has to be Mrs Tango. Mrs Tango: Why?! Skizz: It doesn’t have to be, I just feel it.

...

Impulse, running up to Skizz and Etho standing together on a task: Are you lovers? Are you lovers? Should I leave? Skizz: You know what, this is a monogamous relationship, buddy. Impulse: Do you need- Do you need help? Etho, if you are in need of help, wiggle twice. Skizz: *laughs* Etho: Well, he hasn’t killed me YET...

...

Evil: I found a dead Impulse in upper engine. Skizz: Cuz you killed him. Evil: Nope. Skizz: Cuz your partner killed him. Evil: Nope. Skizz: Cuz you called in a hitman and had him killed. Evil: ...Do you WANT me to vote for you, Skizz? *pause* Skizz: Cuz Joker killed him. Joker: Wow. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, there, Skizz. *pause* Joker: Just like that hair.

...

Joker: I wanna say it’s Skizzle cuz it looks like he’s wearing the head of Geoffrey the Giraffe’s sister. Skizz: Alright, listen. Listen. ‘Kay? You’ve gotten across how superficial you are. I know my hair is not to your liking, clown. Okay? You just sit over there and lemme be beautiful. Tango: Yeah, don’t be judgey.

...

*Brody’s body is reported* Endless: Aww, we miss you, Brody. Skizz: Eh. Let’s not get carried away. Joker: *laughs* I approve of this message.

...

*Skizz has a sheep accessory on his head* Evil: Skizz, are you feeling sheepish? Joker: DANG IT! I was gonna say that joke!

...

Skizz: Alright. I’ve disclosed myself as the spy so if I die, you know it was the imposter. Tango, laughing: If I die, an imposter killed me.

...

Astro: Can we vote for Joker for many reasons? But mostly because- Joker: What?! Why?! Tango: Oh, Etho’s the snitch! Astro, continued: -he just zoomed by Etho. I just saw Joker swoop by Etho and kill him. Joker: I did not! I did not do that! Tango: That’s the first time we’ve seen snitch. Joker: I’ve been running this whole time! What’re you-?! Astro: Yeah, you ran right by Etho and killed him! Impulse: Wait… Tango- Joker: I DID NOT! Impulse: Tango, Tango. How do you know? How do you know we saw snitch? Tango: Cuz it says… snitch next to his name…? No…? Astro: Okay so Tango’s the other- the other imposter, cuz- Impulse: Ohhhh!!!! Tango: OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! Impulse: Technicality!! Joker: Well it’s Tango but it’s not me! Tango: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! WHYYYYYY?!!!!!!!!! Endless: Why’s it- Where does it say snitch? Tango: I mean- No, guys, we should work this out. There’s a chance- *mumbles* I got nothing… Astro: I still think it’s Joker but it’s definitely Tango. Tango: WHY?! STUPID MODS! Impulse: You’re the only one that saw the snitch reveal! Tango: WHYYYYYYYY?! Endless: C’mon, let’s do Joker first, and THEN get Tango.# Joker: NO, it’s NOT me! Endless, why are you pushing to kill me so quickly?! Endless: Because Astro called you out! Astro: But- But Tango called HIMSELF out, so I think he kinda deserves this. Impulse: Tango snitched himself!

...

*after the round* Joker: Goshdarnit, Tango! Tango: That was the dumbest round ever and it’s full of dumb and you’re all dumb. Impulse: Ouch. Joker: Tangooo! Impulse: Yeaaah, the snitch callout was pretty bad. Tango: I assumed that once it was revealed, everyone knew it. Astro: It’s revealed to the IMPOSTERS and- Tango: I GOT THAT. GOT IT. THANKS. GOT IT. Joker: Happy birthday, Tango :)

...

Mrs Tango: I just walked into the room and I watched [Tango] stab Astro. He didn’t even care that I walked into the room. Tango: Nope! Nope! Do NOT let her trick you, okay? Do not let this happen. I’m not saying anything else. Impulse: I’m gonna trust Tango cuz it’s his birthday. Mrs Tango: You should NOT trust Tango. He’s a dirty liar. Skizz: Oh man, she-! Impulse: And this is why I will never play this game with my significant other.

...

*Etho is claiming that Evil and Joker are lovers* Impulse: How do you know that, Etho? Skizz: Yeah, how do you know that? Joker: Yeah, how DO you know that, Etho? Etho: They confessed their love. Joker: I love everybody. I love you, I love Impulse. Dunno about Skizz, but… Skizz: Come ON, Joker!

...

Joker: Impulse, would you like to say what happened with Brody after you guys left together? *pause* Impulse, in a small voice: I know it looks bad…

...

Evil: So we start the game voting Tango out, right? Tango: Wait, what?! Why?! Brody: I’m down. Sounds good. Tango: Listen, I got a finger on my head and I’m not afraid to use it. Endless: You put that finger away, sir!

...

*a meeting is called, interrupting Joker and Endless’s conversation* Joker: What proposition? Endless: You missed out on the proposition. Joker: Endless is propositioning me and I dunno how to feel about it.

...

Joker: I’ll be honest, [Skeld] is my least favourite map. I absolutely hate this map. Tango: What?! Impulse: Skeld?! Joker: Yup. Tango: Joker, you are dumb with a sprinkling of dumb. Skizz: This is my favourite map. I like actually knowing where stuff is. Tango: Skeld is AMAZING. It’s so balanced. Endless: Joker’s favourite map is MIRA, so… Tango: Yeah, he just wants to get lost and press buttons and ride riders. Joker: I just don’t like this map. It’s too easy to find people together. I like it when people are spread out more. Tango: It’s perfect. Joker: No. I hate it. You’re dumb.

...

Skizz: You know what, Joker? I hate your hat. Joker: What? Skizz: I hate your hat. Joker: *scoffs* I don’t care.

...

Skizz: *changes his accessory back to the hair Joker hates the most* Skizz: BOOM. That’s just for Joker! Joker: OH! Oh come on, Skizz! NO!!! Skizz: You crawl inside this hair! Joker: Oh GOD no! Why would I do that?! Skizz: It stinks in here. Come on in, the water’s fine. Joker: Skizz, that’s the WORST thing you’ve ever said!

...

*body is reported* Evil: Why were you screaming, Tango? Tango: I just wanna say that when I see Evil approach me now, I pucker and I- I wait. It’s just- I have this thing now. Every time Evil approaches me, I assume I’m going to die. Joker: Hey Skizz? Can I use your hair to scrub my brain so I don’t have to hear Tango say “pucker” again?

...

Tango: It wasn’t Etho. I feel bad now. Skizz: You shouldn’t. I hate Etho.

...

Astro: *calls a meeting* Astro: I hit my button cuz at least I can now for two seconds use a non-vanilla role and be Button Barry. Tango: I like that the button was actually three feet away when you pressed the button there. Astro: Yup. Didn’t care. Tango: Nice, that’s- Well done. All you had to do was take three steps. Astro: I wanted to use that button. That’s it, that’s all I got. *pause* Astro: Enjoy the 40 seconds we’ve got left.

...

Brody: Astro, what are you doing? Astro: I’m following you. Brody: Why? Astro: I dunno. I’m done with my tasks. Impulse: Are you his… Are you his lover? Are you his LOVER, Astro? Astro: Nah, I did that once. We broke up. Brody: Awww, we did??

...

*after Astro sheriffed Skizz* Evil: But nobody died, so why are you trying to pin something on me? Tango: I’m tryina pin something on somebody. Brody: Ahh, that’s not a good thing. Astro: I killed someone. Evil, laughing: Well yeah, nobody died this round except the guy Astro admitted to killing.

...

Skizz: I hate Joker, Endless, Brody, and Impulse. Oh I’m sorry, I was talking to my chat. Joker: I didn’t vote for you!! Endless: Joke’s on you Skizz, I also hate me.

...

Tango: I’m trying to scan my bitties and you guys are all pressing buttons. Joker: Nobody wants to hear about your bitties. Tango: Well, they’re being scanned. Joker: I don’t care about your bitties, dude.

...

Astro: Did Impulse even say where [the body] was? Impulse: It’s between office and storage. Joker: I thought it was between electrical and office. Impulse: Electrical, storage, office. It’s kinda like in the middle there. Tango: What are you even saying right now? Impulse: Okay, okay. Pull up your maps, make a triangle between electrical, storage and office. The body’s RIGHT in the middle of that triangle. Tango: The triangle’s pointing to your name and *votes* OH! WHOOPS! Impulse: Isosceles triangle. What? Tango: Sorry, I made a triangle but clicked your name by accident. Impulse: Oh my gosh. Joker: I’m clicking your name, Tango. Cuz that’s weird. Impulse: What is happening…?! Evil, laughing: I don’t know, we’re jumping the shark. *everyone has skipped except Joker voted for Tango and Tango voted for Impulse* Impulse: Are you mad that you can’t make a triangle?! *everyone laughs* Joker: Tongo don’t make triangle! Etho: Tongo smash triangle!

#friday night stabby quotes #friday night stabby #impulsesv #tangotek #skizzleman #etho #misterjoker #brodyman #mrstango #theendless #evilnotion #astrozoan

48 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Never Satisfied [Chapter 6]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“I don’t wanna look like this, fuck”

Previously on Never Satisfied:

Digital Checkpoint activated. Reply to save progress. 💜 — Cora

With minimal contemplation he replies seconds later.

Corpse: save

Cora: your progress has been saved. Thank you for choosing A.S.S. - the Automated Save System. You are now free to activate the digital checkpoint at any time.

Cora: I had a nice time. Text me whenever you need to. We’ll hang out again soon, deal?

Corpse: thank you

Cora: anytime sugar ;)

Funny how a text exchange so simple and short can turn so much around for a person. Funny how a huge weight lifts off him the second he locks his phone, suddenly finding it easier to breathe, to move, to blink, to function - to live. She gives him that kick he needs to be reminded to live and not just be alive. He’s still not comfortable with how much he’s relying on her but seeing her effect on him is nothing but positive, the most and best thing he can do for himself is go with the flow and let things happen. No overthinking, no planning, no shooting guesses, just facing things as they come face-to-face with him. He may never get used to it, but he won’t know that until he tries, will he?

* * *

Corpse sighs as he looks at himself in the mirror. He’s been trying to step up a little with the dressing game since he’ll be having a special guest over - ok, truth be told, he didn’t invite her, she invited herself but he’s glad she did. Lord knows he wants her company and wants her around but he could never bring himself to invite her over or initiate a hangout. Good thing Cora doesn’t expect anything from him, not of that nature at least. It’s oddly amazing having a person like her - someone who basically reads his mind like an open book and then takes action according to what she’s read. It’s not only the fact that she accurately gauges all his wants and needs, but also how she knows exactly what to do to satisfy them. To calm him down, to relieve his anxiety, to make him feel comfortable. He feels strangely selfish for always being on the receiving end of this friendship, although he doesn’t see much he could do for her. He’s decided to let time have full control of the course of their relationship, hoping his giver time would come soon.

As of now, however, it still hasn’t and he can stomach that.

It’s been about a week and a half since their first hangout but he hasn’t missed her once. That may be due to how much they’ve been texting ever since he unlocked that checkpoint she offered him. To be more specific, it probably has something to do with the fact that her texts are always so full of life and light, sounding almost like she’s there with him, talking in her signature upbeat and bubbly way which is such a contrast to his own melancholic approach to any conversation ever.

She’s also sent him a ton of memes and selfies, plus pictures she took of clients’ pets. In return for her kindness, he’s sent her bad jokes, weird internet articles about ghosts and pictures of the current game he was playing. Needless to say, their chats have been very colorful.

Now that the scene has been set up a little better, a direct timeline of events lading up to this one would be appreciated, wouldn’t it? Ok so, it all started with an “I’m bored” text Corpse received from Cora about two hours ago. Instinctively, and partially because he didn’t have any idea what else he could possibly say in response to that he sent back an apology. An apology Cora apparently deemed a loophole she could use to invite herself over cause that’s exactly what she did, not that Corpse minds it much. In fact, he felt his heartbeat quicken with excitement when her “K then, I’ll be there in a bit :)” text came in. At first he thought it was his anxiety kicking in but when he realized the rest of his typical symptoms remained absent it took him a little while to pinpoint what that emotion could be.

The epiphany came in the form of the word ‘excitement’.

Regardless of the newfound feeling, or maybe exactly because of it, he attempted to protest. A protest she killed easily with a threatening “I know where you live” text which sent Corpse scrambling to get the apartment in some kind of order. Himself too, it’s safe to say he wasn’t looking the most presentable when he received that message.

His cleaning session consisted mostly of him shoving the strewn about items in his closet and closing it shut like a wild beast dwelled inside, placing a chair in front of the door as a sign for her not to open it and also as a way of preventing the thing from opening on its own because of how overflowing it was.

Afterwards he scrambled into the shower to scrub himself down. It’d been too much for him to tackle given he wasn’t doing too well mentally, but considering he was now suddenly expecting company he thought it’d be for the best not to subject his new friend to the three-day-unshowered Corpse stank.

Right now, his main focus is his face, his stomach sinking at the sight of himself in the mirror’s reflection.

How does she even want to see me?

His mirror is cracked along the right side, spider web-like cracks reaching towards the center of it from the impact point serving as a reminder of a particularly bad night he’d rather forget.

He sighs as he combs his hair, knowing the dark curls won’t oblige and behave no matter how much he tries. He touches his jaw, deciding to let himself off the hook by deeming that a shave wouldn’t be necessary for at least another day. And then his eyes land on his clothes - an outfit it didn’t take him long to put together since those are the only articles of clothing in his closet he’d consider presentable enough to be shown off in front of a new friend who is yet to find out how much of a slob he really is. That clothing choice consists of a black button-up shirt and jeans.

This is nice, right? It’s fine. It’s business casual but definitely leaning more towards casual, as some would say. I look...nice, decent. I’ll take it - it’s enough. Far better than my ‘usual’.

A knock at the door startles him, though it’s quickly followed by a voice he’s grown to find very endearing:

“THIS IS THE COPPAS! OPEN UP YA’ DOOR!” The voice yells out, probably loud enough for the whole complex to hear but it’s not like he gives a shit. And, as context clues show, neither does she.

Corpse exits his bathroom, heading for the front door, pulling the chain off and unlocking the deadbolt before opening it. The object of his newfound affection stands on the other side, grinning and beaming with that usual light she has surrounding her. Her hair is thrown up into a messy bun - a hairstyle she seems to love - and she’s wearing a simple red t-shirt covered in little chubby, cartoonish black cats that seem to be struggling to exist.

He smiles a little, finding it in himself to speak up but when he opens his mouth to do so, she cuts him off.

“Jesus, did you just come back from a funeral?” She asks, pulling at one of the buttons on his chest as she walks past him, letting herself in.

His eyes, completely on their own accord, wander down as she walks on by, causing him to swallow hard as he finds himself staring at a pair of tanned legs, patterned by the fishnets she’s wearing, leading up to a pair of short black shorts.

She turns on her heel about halfway down the hall, leading him to take an inevitable notice of how her well-loved boots could use a polish. Anyhow, he snaps his gaze away to hide the fact he’s been gawking, despite not really meaning to.

“No, but for real, why are you wearing that? You seem super confined and uncomfy, bud.”

Corpse blinks before swallowing and glancing down at himself, pulling at the button she touched before looking back up, his gaze traveling up the length of her legs. She has suspenders hanging over her thighs, more of an accessory than a necessary addition to her outfit. “I just...I dunno, I thought it looked nice. Does it not? I mean, I wouldn’t know, really. I don’t usually dress like this.”

“I mean, you look dapper as fuck but if you’re not comfortable then change, get your comfy game on. I’m the last person you need to impress in this world.”

God, she sees right through him. Even so, he considers protesting, trying to convince it’s all fine, that he likes this shirt and the outfit in its entirety. But her stare sets the record straight for him - she’ll know it’s all lies. And with that in mind, he lets his shoulders fall. Not a full second passes before he promptly starts undoing his buttons.

“Oh, thank fuck.” She comments as he goes to retreat into his room, stripping the shirt off as he walks, unaware of her lingering eyes on his back, unaware of her lower lip bitten between her pearly teeth. Unaware of the subtle shift in her stance as she looks him over much like he did her moments earlier.

When he returns a moment later in a simple dark grey t-shirt, she greets him with a grin and pats his chest. “Much better.”

It doesn’t take long for them to decide to crash on his couch, throw on a bad movie and just sit in comfortable silence. Comfortable silence - something that usually eats away at him and is anything but comfortable he now sees as calming, a soothe to his ever-racing mind.

Disrespecting the movie, Corpse takes to analyzing his guest instead. She has so much confidence, he can’t help but notice, like she’s been here hundreds of times, known him for so long. He hates her a little for it. Well, it’s not quite hate, it leans more toward envy. Jealousy. That human-nature characteristic of wanting what someone else has but you desperately need/wish you had. In his mind, she’s almost selfish: Why couldn’t she share some of that confidence and carefree manner with the rest of the world? It oozes out of her like a drip of honey from a beehive, sweet and warm. And all he wants yet has none of.

He instinctively tenses up as he feels her move closer before, suddenly, her head drops into his lap, legs kicked over the armrest of the couch. He holds his breath almost subconsciously, staring at her as she remains focused on the television. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he puts one across the back of the couch and the other awkwardly bent above his head. He doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea if he touches her. He doesn’t want to come off as a creep nor does he want to overstep any of her boundaries, despite the fact she’s walking a dangerous line of overstepping his. Well, that would’ve been the case if this was done by anyone but her. The way Corpse comes to this realization is when he figures out that he really doesn’t mind this proximity, as long as he doesn’t embarrass himself or creep her out in any way.

What felt like an eternity passes before she finally speaks up, still without looking away from the movie playing on the screen opposite the couch, “You know, I can feel how tense you are.”

His face flushes with embarrassment, heating up as his mind immediately goes to the worst possible outcome of this situation.

She’ll probably sit up, or leave, he thinks to himself, heart thumping in his ears as he tries to observe her face the best he can from this angle. Nevertheless, he swallows that fear as she rolls her head to look up at him with those large glittering doe eyes, grinning a bit as she seems to always do, “You can just put your hands wherever it’s comfortable for you. I don’t mind.”

He hesitates for a moment but, as always, he doesn’t get much say cause she makes the choice for him, knowing that pesky fear is keeping him immobile. She takes the hand from over his head and pulls it down to rest just next to her skull. She then drags the one resting at the back of the couch, placing it so his hand is resting dead-center on her stomach. Satisfied with how she’s rearranged his posture, she goes back to watching the movie but not before asking: “This okay?” while looking at him through her peripheral vision.

He’d have to admit it’s far more comfortable like this.

“Yeah, it’s fine. You’re okay?” He asks, feeling relieved when he feels her nod against his leg.

He moves his hand a little and swallows hard as he contemplates if he really should make the move he’s thinking of at the moment. And then he abruptly decides not to think. So, instead, he acts on it.

Without thinking of any potential negative consequences, Corpse slides his fingers to lace with hers, resting their conjoined hands on her stomach in the same spot where she left his hand a bit ago. She curls her digits around his tighter as reassurance that it’s ok. Her palm feels warm in his hand, her thumb tracing his cold metal rings.

Checkpoint...his checkpoint.

Is this what it feels like to be normal?, he wonders, Is this what it feels like to really connect with someone? He has never felt this before. He’s never met someone who has such an effect on him, understand him like this - Without even having to ask she grounded him; she knew what he needed and didn’t make him feel like an idiot about it. Instead she gave him the comfort he needed.

And suddenly he finds himself afraid - realizing that this isn’t simply a vibe of two buddies hanging out. He has that subtle ache in his chest that’s telling him he wants something…something substantial from this friendship. He wants this to last, or for it to blossom, he’s not sure yet. But for the first time, he doesn’t feel the overwhelming need to figure it out. That’s one of the many effects this girl has on him - she’s the definition of improvisation, unpredictable and alive. He’s slowly learning to let loose himself, all thanks to her. Slowly, he’s learning to trust time.

He abruptly realizes he’s glancing at her often as the movie is still running, examining her features and slowly running his gaze down the length of her fishnet-clad thighs before quickly looking away, mentally scolding himself. It’s hard, but he manages to turn his gaze elsewhere for his sake and hers. For the sake of keeping things normal, platonic and not in any way awkward for either of them. The last thing he needs is to make things weird by letting his mind wander and activate his libido and then she’d really notice how tense he is.

Cora remains oblivious to what’s going on in his head, thank God, as she continues running her thumb across his knuckles, eyes half lidded in calm content - something that’d typically seem like the complete opposite of what she is. He likes seeing her like this, tamed almost. He feels like no one else has had the privilege to see this calm side of her. Maybe that’s not the truth - it probably isn’t - but he still feels special, knowing that it’s a tight circle of people who have seen her this way.

And then he realizes the movements of her thumb on his hand have stopped.

He freezes for a moment, his fearful gaze travelling to her face where he’s relieved to find her eyes closed only seconds before he hears a light snore escape her.

She’s fallen asleep.

It’s an odd scene. She’s such a wild and free spirit, seeing her fall asleep like this is like observing an abnormality, a paranormal event. You know, like something one doesn’t usually believe exists or is capable of happening. He’d never before been able to imagine her asleep. It’s ridiculous, he’s aware - she’s human after all, but his mind has never been able to comprehend the thought and image of her captured by the power of sleep. He simply couldn’t see it happening. But now that it’s happened in front of him, he can’t look away from the sight of her relaxed, peaceful features, overcome by sudden slumber.

And then he comes to the realization that he’s now practically held hostage on his own couch, crippled by the danger of waking her up. It’s gonna be a long while, isn’t it, he thinks to himself, yet there’s still a satisfied smile on his face. A smile that’s a result of knowing he’s held hostage by her. That’s more a blessing than a curse, if he’s being honest.

@fockingwhore @vixenl @annshit @wineandionysus @wiseflamingoqueen

56 notes · View notes