#I should be distressed but i’m too satisfied for that right now

[ersatzpenguin]

The Midwest changes you.

This morning, while traveling for work, I grabbed a “to go” breakfast burrito from a bougie airport restaurant—the kind that gives you an arugula side salad with your burrito like you didn’t just order a burrito the size of a baby for yourself.

Sat down to eat it only to find that they included a side of sour cream. Again, bougie. But when I opened it up, I realized it wasn’t sour cream. It was ranch dressing.

Friends, I put ranch dressing on my breakfast burrito. It was delicious.

#ranch dressing #midwest #happy accidents #i’m an adult #breakfast burrito #I should be distressed but i’m too satisfied for that right now

[peachesofteal]

Very curious about the aftermath of darling having to explain why they lied about taking the suppressants— would they refuse to say anything? Or during their heat would Simon & Johnny contact their doctor for something— maybe if darlings fever was higher than it should be— and found out a bit what happened to them when they were younger because they’re their medical proxy.

🖤

Takes place after this / thank you to @ghostlythunderbird for her help!

18+ MDNI / dead disco omegaverse au / cock warming / mature themes

Simon leans over the tub, fingers swirling through the extremely hot water while you whimper and gasp against Johnny’s chest, mouth half open, nearly asleep astride his lap.

“Alpha.” You whine when he shifts, face burrowed against his skin.

“I’ve got ye, darling. I’m here.” He smoothes a hand up and down your back, soothing you, all while trying not to grit his teeth too loud.

He’s teetering on the edge, cock hard again inside your body, recovered from earlier when he finally took you as Simon soaped you clean.

Simon spreads his fingers across the the small of your back, dripping water droplets up your spine before twisting a bunch of your hair into a clip to keep it from getting wet. You’d be mad if you weren’t out of your mind in a heat haze, and your hair got wet outside of a wash day.

“Johnny.” You whimper, and the Alpha’s hand disappears beneath the water in response, patting your hip and pressing his lips to gland to settle you.

Simon really wants to pluck you from the tub and spread you to wide on the bathroom floor. He wants to spread towels out to prevent your skin from being chilled and then lay you on your back, wants to fuck his come deep into your womb until you’re gushing with it, until it takes. It’s the same way Johnny felt, when you were sitting on his lap, bouncing with your desperation, crying in need for him to fill you.

If he was in a rut, no one would have even made it to the bathroom. He would have already bred you, already fucked you full of his seed and plugged it.

But he’s not. And he’s not the one in the tub right now either, so he has to attend to the other things. Just as important, not as much fun.

“A-alpha please.” You gasp, eyes wide and teary and Johnny nods, pressing a thumb against your bottom lip, and starting back up a deep, harmonic purr in hopes of getting you back to sleep.

“I know, I know.” He coos.

Simon bends, swallowing Johnny’s lips, kissing him lazily, indulging in his pants and gasps as you tighten around him. You push at Simon’s shoulder, face screwed up in irritation, and he chuckles softly before kissing you sweetly, long and deep until you’re whining for him to get in the tub behind you.

Now that they’ve started, you’ll only stop for food and rest, and getting you to eat and drink will be a challenge in itself. Everything is shifting, your unease, distress has faded away to your instincts, your drive to be bred by them, and they’ll spend the rest of your heat giving you everything you need, soothing you and praising you, comforting you and making you feel safe, satisfying and taking care of you. They’ll flood you with their DNA, their hormones, their pheromones, completing the cycle over and over until it passes.

Simon relishes it. He loves caring for you with or without your designation, loves the idea of growing their family, of him or Johnny fucking you full of themselves until you’re swelling with their baby. It’s instinct, and primal, but so, so much more with you. You’re not just some Omega… you’re theirs. Their darling. You’ve always been theirs.

Which is why he can’t stay in the bathroom, even though he dearly wants to.

Your fingers latch onto his forearm when he pulls away, and he folds you farther into Johnny, until his mouth is above your gland and he’s licking, distracting you enough for Simon to slip away.

“Her last prescription was written six months ago, but it was a lower dosage, preparing for the weaning off time frame.” The kitchen knife slows to a stop in the middle of the apple he’s cutting, and he places it down to hold the phone firmly in his hand.

“Sorry, you said… six months?” His heart thunders in his ears. Six months? Half a year? He struggles to get a handle on the ache in his soul when he thinks about you struggling for so long, without them even knowing.

The doctor sighs.

“She was advised to inform you, to see if your work schedules could be adjusted for her heats. After being on suppressants for so long, they were anticipated to be more intense, more debilitating.”

“I- I don’t understand. Why did she come off the suppressants?”

“The long term use of suppressants have had negative impacts on her body… did she not tell you?” His stomach twists.

“No, she… failed to mention. We came home to her in the beginning of a heat but, she wasn’t herself. She was self soothing, we’re very concerned.”

“As you’re aware, yourself and Mr. MacTavish are listed as medical proxy… I can email an encrypted chart with her medical information if you’d like.” He grimaces. You’re going to be so pissed, so bloody heated when you come out of this and realize they’ve trampled all over your boundaries in this way but what else can he do?

“Alright, that will work fine.”

He reads the file alone. He doesn’t think it appropriate, to read it with Johnny while you’re practically attached to him, even though that makes him feel guilty too.

But he can’t run the risk of upsetting you, not when they finally got you settled and comfortable.

So, he opens it on the couch. It’s a massive file, as he expects most Omega’s are, considering their unique genetic needs, complicated endocrine systems and of course, reproductive health needs.

He finds the chart notes from your appointment, six months ago.

“-advised pt that stopping suppressants should be considered due to impact in pheromone production and reproductive health. Advised pt that continued long term use may have permanent effects. Pt stated she understood, agreed to start next month with a lower dosage to wean off.”

He scrolls, to a visit from last year. It’s fairly standard, mentions of blood work and labs, appropriate levels and other medical jargon, but something sticks out.

“-pt inquired if it was possible to successfully bite and bond without a heat. Informed pt it was not advised.”

Why were you asking about bites? You’d never expressed interest in that to them before… you had always told them you were happy the way things were. That you didn’t need a bond to be theirs, just like you didn’t need a heat. He’s still frowning when a note from your visit three years ago jars him.

“-pt advised she feels she’s in a safe, healthy relationship, and would consider coming off suppressants. Previous feral state symptoms have seemed to completely dissipate. Pt seems happy and very healthy. I advised I feel it would be safe if she did come off her suppressants if she chose.”

Feral? Feral state?

“Oh, darling.” He murmurs. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

He scrolls farther, eyes scanning through years and years of visits, going much farther back since they’ve known you, until he finds an intake form from a hospital, when you only 16 years old.

His heart stops in his chest.

“-female Omega brought in with the group who was rescued from the trafficking ring. Fluctuates between catatonia and feral state. No bites or bonds, gland intact. Unable to verbalize her name, or memories. Started on sedative drip until specialist arrives.”

#peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco omegaverse au #ghost x soap x reader

[melon-cream-enmu]

Mc enters a spell induced heat (smut)

AFAB, breeding (possibly), general smut warnings. Plus size reader. I’m not that into mammon so I didn’t get too smutty with him, mostly just the reader, sorry orz. Levi doesn’t have two dicks in the usual sense, see 💕here💕 for example (my om! Dick headcanons). Levi’s my fav his will be long I’m not sorry. You will see favoritism

Just the first 3 brothers for now. I will do the rest, this post is just really long as is.

A spell goes bad and you end up with slick dripping down your legs as you run from RAD to try and get home. It’s embarrassing, you can’t make it through the day. So when the first born enters the house in front of the others he stops. He can smell you so clearly. He doesn’t know what’s going on but it won’t be good if they can’t control themselves. “To your rooms. Now.” The second his brothers catch your scent they’re obediently rushing off to their rooms. They talk in their private chat about what to do.

They won’t touch you unless you reach for them. But that doesn’t stop a single one of them from fucking their hands/pillow/toys/anything. You’re making sounds that are so inviting. You’re crying out for help, you want to be bred. But you haven’t said anything to any of them, you don’t know what your sounds mean.

He’s laying back and panting hard. He just can’t stop. He’s so hard and no matter how many times he comes he can’t feel satisfied. He feels movement on his bed.

His phone buzzes with a text from you

Lucifer

• “I need help”

• “with?”

Lucifer doesn’t know how else to respond.

• “…I can’t say it. Just come here. Please”

His door practically slams as he leaves his room. The closer he gets to you, the stronger you smell, and the harder he gets. He opens your door and slams it shut quickly.

You’re on your bed, sitting up, with a blanket wrapped around you. Your bed looks a mess, like you’d been tossing and turning for ages. You look distressed and disheveled, not that Lucifer looks any better. Tie undone and hanging on his shoulders, shirt unbuttoned, chest glazed with sweat, cheeks flushed slightly.

He swallows thickly, eyes tracing your form and your teary eyes. “What’s wrong?” Your eyes look to the ground and fidget beneath the blanket. “I don’t know what’s happening, I feel hot, and sweaty and…” you’re so desperate for relief yet too embarrassed to say it, so you shrug off the blanket and spread your legs slowly.

Your soaking wet, thighs drenched and slightly sticky. Lucifer inhales, and Father above it takes everything in him not to drop to his knees and devour your cunt. Your whine brings his attention back to your face, and you’re looking at him nervously. He swallows and begins walking towards you.

“You’re in heat. Humans don’t experience this kind of thing. But demons do, regularly.” He’s standing in front of you now, and watches as your thighs rub together. “This is going to be hard to deal with, there’s no way of knowing how long it will last, and I wouldn’t trust your immune system to be able to handle suppressants.”

“But it hurts, I need it to stop. Please, what do I do, there has to be something that’ll make the feeling stop.” Lucifer doubts that it hurts but rather you don’t understand how your body is yearning to be touched, but he moves on. He contemplates if he should do this, you might not be of sound mind. But as he looks in your eyes, he doesn’t see clouded hazy lust, but genuine confusion and pleas for help.

He speaks slowly, “You need to be pleasured. Your body is giving in to its most primal urges, and…it wants to breed.” Your breath hitches, and as he moves closer your eyes follow him, until he’s right in front of you and your head is tilted up to see him. “Can you help me?”

He doesn’t hesitate to fall to his knees before you, let his hands run up your thighs, and spread your legs further. He pulls you closer, now on the edge of the bed, and his lips stop just before your heat. He waits once more, for your permission and, once hearing your choked ‘please’ he presses his lips to your cunt.

You taste like the sweetest of delicacies that haven’t graced his tongue since before the fall. He groans and his eyelids flutter shut as his tongue spreads your lips. He licks up to your clit and lets his tongue cup beneath it, smearing your juices on the sensitive nub before closing his lips around it. He sucks gently before moving back down, tongue parting your lips once more.

Your thighs twitch and tremble in his hands and he can’t help but caress and grope and grip them. Your lips bleed beautiful whimpers and cries that he can’t help but groan his own in appreciation to. As he pushes impossibly closer, nose pressing into the weight of your mound, you can’t stop the cry that bursts from your chest.

Mammon

• “I’m sorry”

He sits up in a hurry, ignoring his aching cock that was in his hand mere moments ago.

• “Why, what happened?” Read 9:14 pm

He watched your text bubble appear, disappear, and ‘read’ with the current time appear tacked onto his message. He freaks out, tugging a pair of discarded sweatpants on and practically stumbling as he opens his door and runs to your room. He doesn’t even waste time closing it.

As he runs he thinks that he should probably knock, you’re in heat and vulnerable, he doesn’t want to scare you by barreling in unannounced. But as he gets closer and smells your scent, that’s exactly what he ends up doing. And the sight he’s greeted with has him slamming the door behind him so hard he loosens the screws on its hinges. You’re on your bed, teary eyed and holding his signature jacket to your face, nose buried in its leather.

You’re also naked, completely so, pressing the jacket tightly to your body. You’re body is rocking back and forth, and as his eyes trail down your plush sides to your heavy thighs, he sees one sleeve of his jacket pressed between your cunt and a pillow. A pillow you’re currently humping desperately. You let out a hiccuped sob and his attention returns to your face. He must be obviously concerned because your eyes scrunch shut and you speak into his jacket. “I’m sorry…”

Mammon hesitates before stepping forward just a bit. “Why?”

He sees your hips press down a bit harder and your rhythm stutters when you pull your face away from his jacket.

“B’cuz I’m ruining your jacket!” The tears that had been dripping slowly come down in long streams now and your thighs clench shut as you curl up, holding his jacket even tighter.

“…(y/n) I don’t care about the jacket, are you ok?!” Your eyes meet his. You’re confused, why would he ask that, why is he not mad? You stop your movements and rest your full weight on the pillow, causing Mammon to swallow thickly at the thought of your scent soaking into his jacket. You shake your head.

“This is a heat right?…Some stupid spell went wrong and I got hit with it.” You lift your leg and move off the pillow, inadvertently showing the second born your dripping lips, his soaked jacket, and the strings of slick connecting the two. “I didn’t wanna bother you, and I found your jacket on my floor and it smelled like you and it made the feeling go away and-“

Mammon had already starting pushing off his sweatpants when you said you didn’t want to bother him, and he took those last steps forward to land his knee or your bed and kiss you. Your arms wrap around his neck and you pull him down with you.

Leviathan

• “Can you come to my room?”

• “Please?”

• “Levi please answer…”

• “I’m coming over”

Levi didn’t hear his phone until the last message. He was too out of it from cumming especially hard into a toy now long passed overflowing. He’d heard the last buzz and groggily picked up his phone and startled at your message. He scrambles out of his bathtub, tripping over cables and discarded bags and bottles, tugging on a pair of boxers just in time for his door to swing open.

You look scared. Legs closed tightly and hand gripping the doorknob rather hard. You just stand there, trembling. Levi doesn’t know what to do. He’s too afraid to get close to you like this, unsure if his self control, or what’s left of it, can keep him from harming you. You step further into his room and he begins to back away. Then his ears catch the sound of a door opening down the hall, and he sees it peak open just a smidge.

Levi rushes forward, slamming the door behind you and pressing you against it. He won’t have any of his brothers coming onto you right now, not when you came to him. He doesn’t realize in his moment of heightened emotion that his demon form slipped from his usual grasp. He only noticed when you whimpered.

He looked down. He’d been glaring at his door, as if whoever had been down the hall could see it. Your eyes are watery, your lip is trembling, and you’re staring up at him. He gains control of himself near instantly feeling the itchy traces of magic and his tail and horns crackle and fizzle from existence. “(Y/n) I’m sorry! I’m sorry please don’t cry please don’t cry…” he reaches forward on pure instinct and cups your face in his hands.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper again, and Levi pulls away like you’ve burned him. “Im sorry! You probably don’t want to be touched by someone like me! I won’t do it again!” He moves to back away but you grab his hands and return them to your face, burying yourself in his palms. He’s shaking and he’s sure you can feel it. He can certainly feel how warm you are. You’re burning up, and as your (e/c) eyes peak up at him through his fingers, his heart races.

His hands move slowly to cup your face again when your grip loosens. Your eyes search his and his throat grows dry. You look up at him pleadingly and he can’t stop himself from leaning down. He feels your breath on his lips as he hesitates before pressing his lips to yours gently. You practically melt in his hold, hands sliding up his chest and around shoulders. His hand fumbles for the lock on his door before laying on the small of your back. You’re pressing closer to him, close enough for him to feel your scorching body heat, and you to feel his cocks press against your stomach.

“Why do I feel like this?” Levi leads you back further into his room and sets you on the pile of beanbag chairs and cushions that have made a makeshift bed for when you fall asleep on late game nights. “It’s…you’re in heat. I-I don’t know how, but you are. Everyone in the house can tell.” Your hands leave his shirt and cover your mouth.

“What do you mean you can tell?” Levi finds he can’t look you in the eye, stammering as he tries to speak. He groans and hides his face beside your head, nose to your temple and eyes squeezed shut. “…We can smell it. That’s why no one’s come to get you for dinner…or anything since we got back.” Your thighs close tightly and a noise akin to a growl rumbles in his chest. When he peaks at you, your eyes are so pretty, growing teary and reflecting the pretty blues in his room. “It’s affecting you, isn’t it?” Levi can only nod his head, nudging yours from how close he is.

“What…can I do to make it stop?” His hand shakily holds your arm, thumb stroking your skin. “It’s making you want to…b-breed. You’d have to have someone…” a whine catches in his throat and pulls away. By the look on your face he can tell you understand. He lifts himself more, pulling himself from the warmth of your soft skin. “You probably want to go to someone else…asmo is probably who you’d want, he’d know what he’s doing. I can walk you there if you need me to…”

Your fingers grasp his shirt and you shake your head. “I don’t want anyone else…I want you.”

Levi’s kisses are nervous, but the more he kisses you, the more your body releases sounds and scents that his own responds to. Clothes are shed quickly and you find your legs turned to the side, bent up just slightly and rested on Levi’s arm planted next your waist, holding himself up. The feeling of his cock, it’s 3 sections winding around each other, has you squirming. It’s thick and moves on it’s own. The Ruby color of his cheeks and his gaze that won’t meet yours lasts for all of 3 seconds after he pushes in, hearing your sweet, whimpered sigh causing his hips to stutter.

He does his best to be slow, he knows what his dick is, but this is new to you. The way it suctions lightly, squirming and wanting to be as deep inside you as he can be, is going to be too much very quickly for you. Your heat won’t go away after cumming just once. He doesn’t want you to still be in pain but too overstimulated and tired to be able to stop it. But as cute tears fall from your eyes and your hips wiggle and push against him, he can’t help but lean down and let you grab him, scratch his shoulders, squeeze his arms.

Kiss his lips.

#obey me smut #lucifer x mc #mammon smut #leviathan smut #cream om #cream filled #cream afab

[frozenjokes]

Rage Room (I’m Loving A Losing Battle, But I Can’t Quite Seem To Let Go)

in which aromantic scar finally tells his friends what’s been happening between him and Grian, and how he processes the space between them

“It’s just- not fair!” Scar smashed the bottle against the tile floor, the glass pelting the ankles of his reinforced pants.

Bdubs clapped behind him, though stopped when Scar turned around, visibly not in the mood. Admittedly he knew he was shooting low when he went on, but Scar didn’t care, “And I’m kind of pissed off about Etho! If the roles were switched, I would be there, and he said he’d be here last time he missed.”

“Oi,” Cleo cut in, about as unamused as Scar figured they’d be. “No friendly fire.”

“Is it really friendly fire if he’s not here.” Scar huffed, but Cleo knew better than to take his words at face value, and shut him up with a firm glare.

“And you better start talking before I make you pay for all of this.” Her words were rugged, but Scar knew she didn’t mean it, and he could take as much time as he needed. But really, if he was taking shots at Bdubs, he probably should cut to the chase. This was why they were here. This was why they had all made this pact in the first place.

“Grian is.” Scar started, stilted, “Sorry, Bdubs. I shouldn’t have said that. Grian won’t talk to me anymore. He doesn’t- want to talk to me.”

“What?” Bdubs said, eyes flying open, and yeah, no one here was really caught up with his whole.. situation. Anything that felt close to Mumbo he tended to avoid, and basically everything about Grian in the past weeks was Mumbo adjacent.. and also a little sensitive. Not something he was eager to talk about. Scar was more than a little pent up, and based on the expressions of concern across Cleo and Bdubs’ faces, it must have been pretty obvious. “Weren’t you guys hanging out nearly everyday for- I don’t know, it’s been a month at least, right? Did something happen? Hasn’t Grian been driving you around everywhere, too? You’ve sure been asking me a lot less.”

“Yeah. We were.” Scar spoke stiffly, picking up another empty bottle and spinning it in his hands. He chucked it at the wall, aiming at the newly set up targets Cleo had implemented a couple weeks ago. A good choice. Fit with the theme of the axe throwing/rage room combo. The bottle shattered near the bullseye, unsurprising, given their whole friend group had pretty tight aim. Still satisfying. “Until he went and fell in love with me.”

The memories burned like open wounds, like red, angry flesh, like sunburns on your eyelids, like the stinging smell of bleach. Cleo said something, some sort of assent, but Scar didn’t hear it, smashing two more bottles for release, though he didn’t feel any less like his ribs had been torn from his chest, hanging limply on hooks, dripping on his face from his place on the cold ground, bleeding out, dying, but never quickly enough.

“I don’t like labels, alright, you all know this, but Grian says aromantic, and that works for now, because I don’t love him like he loves me and that’s fine. That’s fine! That. Is. Fine.” Scar took a bat, needing something bigger, needing more release, and the old TV would work just fine, “And you know how I feel about dating. I like it. I like to get to know strangers, I like to feel things out, and I like to be close! But you know who I don’t like to date?” The question wasn’t meant to be answered. Scar swung his bat, splitting the TV screen with a satisfying crack. “Friends. Good friends. Friends that mean a lot, friends that I can’t afford to lose when everything goes to shit.”

Scar hit the TV a couple more times, physically battling away distress, “I was so afraid when he brought it up- dating. I was so afraid. I couldn’t just date Grian, because it would end and I would lose him and maybe he’d say we could still be friends and I would say yes! Yes, please, please can we still be friends, and he would say that’s okay, and then two weeks later he’d slam me with a message about ‘needing space’ and ‘not wanting to talk for a while’ and suddenly, suddenly my heart’s being ripped out of my chest and stomped on, but it would be fine, right? It would be fine, because after he’s taken his time, we could be friends again, and things could return to normal. No!” The TV was hardly satisfying to hit anymore, reduced to shattered glass and warped plastic under Scar’s assault.

“It never just. Goes back to normal. You try, and you try and you try, but they just can’t do it, they just can’t love you anymore, and suddenly your best friend is slipping away and there’s fucking nothing you can do about it. Because you dated them. Because you took things ‘to the next level,’ because you made something volatile without even knowing, and the next thing you know, it’s blown up in your face, and you’ve been completely blindsided again.” Scar’s arms shook, and gently, from behind, Cleo laid a hand on his shoulder, sliding down his arm to take the bat he was gripping so tightly. Scar let go when they touched his hands, but his teeth remained locked, grinding near painfully.

“Deep breaths, Scar. Breathe with me. Let me count for you,” and Cleo did, counting to five and back again, forcing Scar to take a step back. Scar wasn’t someone who particularly valued meditation or breathing; it was often too difficult to focus, especially alone, and he was easily frustrated knowing how he should be feeling, but Cleo had a way of grounding him, and when Bdubs was doing the same exercises at his side, Scar didn’t feel so stupid. And it did help. Fives minutes to breathe really did wonders sometimes; it was a shame Scar couldn’t quite manage to utilize the tool as effectively when he was alone. Not that he ever remembered to try.

And now it was quiet, and Scar was so vulnerable, and there was no more anger to hide behind, because it was all just sadness, stiff and aching so impossibly deep.

“I thought if we didn’t.. date.. I thought things could just be normal. That nothing would change. But every awful thing just got expedited- he doesn’t want to see me, he doesn’t want to talk to me- he needs space, he said he needed space, but I know what that means now.” Scar had to sit down, and Bdubs joined him, Cleo standing close by. “I feel so helpless. And it didn’t even matter. I just wish I knew so badly, so I could have said yes, so at least we might have had a chance before it all went to shit. I could keep my friend a little bit longer. I wish I understood how he felt. I wish I felt what he felt. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard.” Scar let his head drop to his hands, voice muffled under his palms, “I just kinda hate myself sometimes.”

Cleo put a hand on his shoulder, a question of touch, and one that Scar accepted with closed eyes. “It would still be hard, Scar. I can promise you that. If this isn’t what you want to hear right now, then you can let me know, but I have to think Grian and your other exes of the past who you haven’t kept in contact with were and are just as torn up as you. Maybe they need to let go for themselves, but I can tell you from personal experience, that doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make you miss them any less.”

“But when people leave me, it’s always because in some way, their lives would be better without me,” Scar felt like wailing, but in reality, his speech was far more soft, “And my life is always worse. It’s always worse. Like I’m just a plague on my friends, and I have no idea how to fix myself to keep this from happening.”

Bdubs squeezed his hand to get his attention, and Scar knew what was coming, he just couldn’t love himself right now.

“There’s nothing to fix, Scar. You’re one of the most delightful people I know, and I mean that. The way you navigate the world is inspiring.”

“Just doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Cleo said, something faraway about the words, “You just should know, that’s all. How we feel.”

“I just wish I was normal.”

“I don’t,” Bdubs snorted, something so passionately reactionary, Cleo laughed, and Bdubs himself looked a bit surprised by his own words, then a tad embarrassed, “I mean, come on. You’re a complete monster, and I love it. I love how comfortable you are about touch, I love how physical you are, and I love how normal you make it feel. Sometimes I want to fall asleep on my friends’ shoulder, or hold hands, or just be held, you know? And no one does it like you, Scar, no one. I think everyone ought to take a couple pages from your book.”

Scar wasn’t quite sure what to do with that, but it wasn’t the type of thing you argued about. You just had to accept it. In all honesty, having people to love him when he couldn’t manage it himself felt indescribably secure. Like a heated blanket wrapped tightly over his shoulders when he was so, so cold. But he couldn’t acknowledge it either, not when he couldn’t breathe the words. So he let it hang, hoping he’d remember to say something later. He knew he would. For now, Scar dodged around the words, stuck in his own raw truth.

“I don’t want to go through this again.”

“I know,” Cleo kept their hand on his shoulder, and Scar wanted to cry.

“And I- Okay, so I can’t really talk about this.. NDAs and such, but I was working on something with someone- something cool, all three of us, Grian included. And at the same time Grian.. cut contact.. I haven’t been able to reach this other uh- colleague, and I don’t know what happened! I don’t know anything, and I have no way of contacting this other guy, and Grian doesn’t know either, and I was so excited, but it just feels like everything is falling apart around me. And- and don’t be mean about the other guy, please, it’s not his fault.” Cleo looked quite skeptical about that, but a pleading look from Scar was enough to get her to leave well enough alone, “I just wish I knew why. Or if he was coming back. Might not have been able to communicate that anyway though, there’s a bit of a language barrier.”

“Can’t use google translate?” Bdubs asked, and Scar couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that escaped his throat.

“Hadn’t thought of that,” he mumbled, which was enough to get Bdubs to let it go. Cleo didn’t look happy, but she didn’t push either.

“That fucking sucks,” she said instead, and Scar laughed in earnest, along with Bdubs, the entire air feeling just a little bit lighter.

“It does,” Scar sighed, resting a cheek on his fist, “Guess I have to find something new to throw myself into. I just really wanted this. I really wanted this.”

There was a long silence, Scar having nothing else to say, and his friends in a similar boat. There wasn’t much to say. They knew. Scar knew they understood. But there was nothing anyone could do. Nothing that could make this any less horrible. But Bdubs did perk up after a minute, catching Scar and Cleo’s attention

“We could go skiing!” Bdubs suggested, to a chorus of groans from Scar and Cleo. Bdubs huffed, affronted as he crossed his arms, “You two need to live a little. Even if you suck, you’re both exhausted by the end of the day, which would do Scar some good in my opinion, and I know you’d be able to take the time off for an impromptu trip.”

“I don’t even think you like skiing,” Cleo rolled their eyes, a laugh under her voice, “You went on one trail ride in those mountains and it changed your life, that’s what. There are no wild horses out there, Bdubs, the guide lied to you.”

“She did not lie! There are horses, and they’re going to see me and know.”

“Know.. what, exactly?” Scar teased, and Bdubs puffed up, as if this was the most blasphemous question Scar could have asked.

“They will just know. And anyway, Etho believes there’s horses out there too, he does, and he wants to see them just as much.”

“Pretty sure Etho is also fucking with you,” Cleo said, smug, and Bdubs gasped.

“Never!” But something stopped him from ranting on; a short pause, a bit of uncertainty. A guilty glance in Scar’s direction. “I’m really sorry he’s not here. I told him- I don’t know. He said something came up last minute and wouldn’t explain. I’m not happy with him either- quite frankly, I’m embarrassed.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Scar rubbed his neck, frowning, “It doesn’t really bother me much, Bdubs. I don’t want you to feel bad.”

“It’s fine if it bothers you! It bothers me! And you’re right, he’s not here, so I think a little friendly fire is well deserved,” Bdubs paused, eying one of the few bottles that were left, “May I?”

“Be my guest.”

Bdubs snatched at a bottle, flipping it in his hand, nearly dropping it trying to look cool, then whipping it at the target across the room, the entire thing smashing right on the bullseye.

“Oh, score!” Scar smiled, and Bdubs pumped his fist.

“Yes! You know, I already feel better. This is great, Cleo, have I told you this is great?”

Cleo looked pleased, exactly the cat who got the cream, “You have. And I know. So how about you boys throw back a couple beers to replace these bottles, and we do a little axe throwing.”

“Are you paying?” Scar asked, hopeful, innocent, but Cleo snorted, shaking her head.

“Uh, no. Don’t let that hold you back, though.”

“Oh, come on,” Bdubs whined, but not without his signature grin, “What’s the point of free rage room therapy hour if it’s not all free?”

“I’m not going to make you pay for the axe throwing either, and that is not included in our little deal, so the least you can do is drink.”

“You can’t make us pay to axe throw with you because we all know you’re going to whoop our asses,” Scar shot back in fake accusation, but Cleo shrugged, a crooked smile across her lips.

“You have fun.”

“I do,” Bdubs assented, earning a sharp jab from Scar’s elbow.

“We don’t! Unless you buy us each a beer, then we do.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Okay fine,” Scar sighed, fully intending on a large tip regardless, since despite her sharp tongue, Cleo would still refuse any sort of compensation for an outing like this, “But you also have to drink.”

Cleo scoffed, the smile never leaving their face. “Who do you think I am?”

***

It was fun. Of course it was fun. Scar lost pretty miserably in nearly every round, though that could be accurately attributed to the fact he was more than a little tipsy, and Bdubs, always spying an opportunity to get an edge, took full advantage. Though, to his credit, Bdubs was having a great day in general, overtaking Cleo in score multiple times, and even winning one or two games. A feat, even against an inebriated Cleo, which, in all honesty, was pretty much the only way Scar or Bdubs could ever surpass her. Etho.. It was safe to say Etho had little talent for the sport. Didn’t matter how much instruction he got, he was nothing short of miserable every time all four of them got together to play. Actually, out of the four of them, Etho was probably the only person who improved when he was drunk, which was always hilarious to see. You’ve never seen a fire lit under someone’s ass like you did when Etho managed to squeak ahead of Bdubs or Scar, the cackling of Cleo only furthering their panic.

Scar did wish Etho was here. He wished he wasn’t so flakey sometimes.

Regardless, when they were done, Bdubs was only two steps away from sober and plenty able to drive. Scar was relieved to have to ride, and even more so that he hadn’t brought his own car in the first place. It was a nice drive home, anything but quiet, and really, just what Scar needed. The less time he spent alone with his own thoughts, the better. Though, after such a nice evening, tonight was going to be a little easier.

Thanking Bdubs for the ride, Scar stepped out onto the cobblestones once they reached his apartment, taking a deep breath before going inside. It was okay. He was going to be okay.

But there was one little habit he had developed, a little something he couldn’t quite shake despite knowing it wasn’t doing him many favors. It had only been a week since Mumbo had disappeared, but Scar refused to miss it if the mermaid ever did return- he couldn’t, even if Grian wouldn’t be in the picture anymore. This still meant something. Scar wasn’t about to give it up so easily.

The trail cams were still open on his monitors when he sat at his desk. Of course they were. Scar never closed them.

So there he sat, chin in his hands, eyes glazed as he watched every angle of that little cove. The trees, waving gently in the breeze. The sand, shifting ever so slightly in the presence of bugs and crabs. But mostly he watched the water. Scar never stopped watching the water.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #scarian #hermitshipping #grian #mumbo jumbo #bdubs #bdouble0 #bdoubleo100 #mumbomaid au #zombiecleo #etho #ethoslab

[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb NSFW - Day 4

Just a shorter one today as I've been a smudge busy, but here's day 4! Shortfic below the cut~ ----- -----

Day 4 - The rest of the companions heard Tav/Durge going at it

“Tchk, do they not know the whole woods can hear them?” Lae’zel winced at the latest echo of a moan from the trees, trying to focus on sharpening her blade without slicing through her own finger in the process.

Gale tried in vain to stare harder at his book, as if reading the words loud enough in his head might drown them out. “Don’t look at me, I’m all out of paper to scribe out Zone of Silence for them. You’d think they might make the effort to learn one bloody spell so we can get a night’s sleep-”  

“Was that a tree breaking? Gods I hope they’re not bringing the place down around them.” Wyll looked as concerned as he was flustered, sorting through the supplies in his pack like it was the most interesting task in the world. “What I’d do for a house with some thick walls right now.” 

“I think it’s cute.” Karlach grinned, her heart glowing slightly. “At least someone is getting some action around here.” 

“If they don’t stop getting action I shall be asking Lady Shar to wipe these memories from my head too.” Shadowheart groaned, standing to walk back to her tent. “I’m going to at least try to get some sleep, I suggest you all do the same. You know they’re all elves, right?” 

“Ah of course, Halsin, Astarion, our fearless leader,” Gale’s words were punctuated by a distinctly loud cry from the aforementioned leader that anyone else might’ve mistaken for distress. “They’ll get just as much rest from their trance as we could be getting if it wasn’t too loud to sleep.” He directed his grumble to the treeline, as if the foliage might pass on his displeasure at the disturbance. 

“Do you think they’d notice if I-”

“Karlach, sit back down, you are not going out there to spy on them.” Wyll put a hand on her elbow, pulling her back down to sit beside him.

“I wasn’t going to ask if I could join in or anything.” She complained. “You never let me have any fun.” 

“I would hardly describe being an unwelcome pair of eyes to the affairs of those three as fun, istik.” Lae’zel put her sword aside, satisfied it would be sharp enough to deal with any enemies in the morning. “You should follow the secretive one’s lead and get some sleep, our foes will not hesitate to slice open your gut should you pause to yawn.” 

“That…does not paint a particularly pleasant picture.” Gale closed his book, standing to return to his tent, resolving himself to cast silence on himself once he got there. “Remind me not to ask for any Githyanki bedtime stories next time we’re around the fire this late.”

“I don’t think the Gith even do bedtime stories.” Wyll shrugged, looking towards Lae’zel’s tent.

“We do, actually, and a simple gut-stabbing would be considered too weak even for a helpless babe.” Her voice hissed from behind the canvas. With everyone else gone, Wyll and Karlach lingered a little longer by the fire, sharing a quiet laugh at the idea of Lae’zel as a toddler with an oversized sword complaining that her bedtime stories weren’t gory enough. 

“What about you, Karlach? Any fairytales, or at least good stories until we get peace enough to rest?” The warlock’s smile was disarming as usual. “I’m afraid all I can offer are the worn out classics, and they don’t seem to hold the same charm as they used to. Hard to imagine a dashing prince running off to play the hero and sweep a fair maiden off her feet when I look like this.”

“I don’t know, you look princely enough to me. And I’m not just saying that because I’ve spent years in Avernus surrounded by actual bloody demons, either.” She shuffled a little, her restless tail and glowing chest betraying her thoughts as usual. “The stories I have in my head now aren’t really suitable for children at bedtime.” 

“Lucky for us, we aren’t children.” Wyll sidled just a little closer, looking up at bright eyes that widened as his voice dropped to a whisper. “I might not have a coin to hand to give you, but I would love to hear your thoughts.”

#bg3ficfeb #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #wyll ravengard #karlach #bg3 tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #lae'zel #shadowheart #Halsin #Astarion #bg3 companions #shortfic

[harley-sunday]

Feels Like Home [04]

Summary: When an unexpected three-week break between Monza and Singapore finds Daniel back on his farm in Perth he’s desperate to use this time to clear his mind, figure out his future in Formula One, and find his way back. He didn’t expect a new neighbour, a sassy two-year old, and three alpacas would make him realise that sometimes, what you’re looking for is right in front of you.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 3.1k

AN: Another update? Yes. My bestie needs some cheering up today, so eL, babe, this one’s for you! ♥

Masterlist

“Dan?”

“Daniel?”

“Oi. Mate?”

“Fine, be a cunt and pretend not to hear me.” 

Before Daniel has a chance to respond he’s hit in the back of his head with one of the juggling balls they used during one of their earlier exercises, “You absolute cunt.” Daniel turns around and raises his eyebrows at Michael, “The fuck did you do that for?”

“You weren’t listening,” Michael says with a shrug as if that explains the assault. And fine, maybe it does.

“I was a little distracted,” Daniel offers, rubbing the back of his head, thinking of feigning a concussion to get out of the remainder of his training session. 

“You were off on another planet, mate,” Michael counters with a shake of his head. “What the hell is going on?”

He doesn’t like to lie to his best friend but he doesn’t want to tell him the real reason he’s distracted either, because if Michael finds out Daniel’s nervous about his dinner plans tomorrow he’ll never let him hear the end of it and Daniel’s not sure he’s up for that right now, and so he simply says, “I just hate that I still don’t know where I’m going to be next year, Mikey.”

Michael eyes him suspiciously, and for a moment Daniel’s worried he’ll get called out but then Michael does that thing he always does when he knows Daniel will tell him the truth eventually and says, “Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to be distracted?”

“Whatever’s going to make you cut this workout short, mate,” Daniel counters with a cheeky grin.

Michael exaggerates a sigh and gives Daniel one of his death stares, “No.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to watch out for my mental health too?” Daniel knows he’s pushing but Michael can take it. Or at least should be used to it by now. “I’m obviously in distress. And this workout ain’t helping.” 

“That just earned you twenty push ups, mate,” Michael says with a wicked grin.

“You cunt,” Daniel whispers under his breath, using his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face because he’s still not fully recovered from the burpees Michael had him doing earlier. 

“You want to cut this workout short-”

“Fuck yes.”

“-then tell me what’s really going on.” Michael looks at him with his arms crossed in front of his chest and that self-satisfied smile of his, because he knows whatever Daniel does - tell him the truth or finish the workout - it’s a win for Michael.

Daniel scoffs and shakes his head, because he’d rather do five more hours of bootcamp than tell Michael about her. He drops to his knees before he gets into position for his first pushup, “Twenty, you said?”

“I think I said thirty, mate,” Michael grins, squatting down in front of Daniel and throwing him a wink, “with a thirty-second plank after each tenth pushup.” 

“I hate you.”

“Not enough to tell me the truth, apparently,” Michael counters. “So I’d say we’re still good.”

***

“Ok, so my number is on the pad next to the phone-”

“I have your number in my phone, why does she need your number?”

“-so if anything happens,” you continue, effectively ignoring your granddad, “just call, ok?”

“Will do,” Abby, Mrs Mackenzie’s sixteen-year old granddaughter, nods. Mrs Mackenzie was supposed to come over to watch Ellie and Granddad but she’s still not feeling too well and so she suggested you ask her granddaughter instead. 

Daniel steps in then and hands Abby a twenty dollar note, “Here’s the down payment for tonight, Abigail. I’ll pay you the rest when we get back, ok? Wanna make sure you don’t burn down the house first-”

“Daniel-” You  sigh and look at Abby, “Ignore him. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” 

“What about my Lando autograph?” Abby counters with one eyebrow raised, looking at Daniel thoroughly unimpressed, the way only teenagers seem to be able to do. 

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you and turn to Daniel, “Yeah. What about her Lando autograph?” 

Daniel looks at you as if you’re siding with the enemy but then pulls up his phone anyway, fingers flying over the screen as he types a message, “Yeah, yeah, I promise to get you that as soon as possible, ok?” He waves his phone around as if to prove to Abigail he’s working on it, “It’s not like I have a bunch of his autographed driver cards lying around somewhere.”

“A cap.”

“What?” Daniel looks up from his screen. 

“I would like an autographed cap,” Abby replies. Then, because she isn’t stupid, “Please?”

Daniel stares at her for a second but seems to realise that if he denies her request there’s not even going to be a date tonight and so he gives in with a resigned, “Fine.”

“Fine,” Abigail echoes. Her smile reappears then, “Thank you so much, Mr Ricciardo.”

“Ouch,” you whisper under your breath, trying your hardest not to laugh even though you give Abby a wink.

Daniel looks too stunned to speak and keeps shaking his head in disbelief.

“Come on,” you gently push him in the direction of the front door, “let’s go.” You turn towards your Granddad then, who’s in his chair, watching the evening news, “Try to behave? Let Abby watch some TV once the news is finished, ok?” 

Granddad huffs but then says something that sounds like, “You kids have fun,” and really, that’s a win as far as you’re concerned. You follow Daniel outside and can’t help but gasp when you see his car, “Oh Jesus.”

“What?”

“That seems awfully fancy,” you say while you admire the Porsche that looks completely out of place here on the farm.

“It’s sort of a date,” he counters with a grin and a shrug. “Of course it’s going to be fancy.”

A warm feeling spreads inside of you when you hear him say the word ‘date’ and if you weren’t feeling like a nervous schoolgirl before, spending way too much time on picking an outfit and doing your hair and makeup, you sure feel like one now and so you quickly try to compose yourself, “It looks beautiful.”

“Just like you.” 

“Oh, very smooth Ricciardo,” you shake your head, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks because you were never good at taking compliments.

“What? It’s true. You look absolutely gorgeous,” he says as he opens the door for you. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, accepting the compliment. You sit down, admiring the interior as Daniel rounds the car and gets inside.

“You ready?”

“Ready,” you reply with a smile that grows even wider when the car purrs to life and he accelerates down the driveway.

***

Daniel hasn’t told her where they’re going, wanting to keep it a surprise, and so when he stops at the gate to Darlington Estate about thirty minutes later she looks at him in disbelief and Daniel can’t help but smile at her. 

“How- This is impossible to get into,” she says, shaking her head. “They have a waitlist that’s at least-”

“It helps when you know the owner,” he replies with a shrug, as if it’s no big deal. Except it was, because even though he does know the owner it took him quite some pleading and a promise of two VIP tickets to the Melbourne Grand Prix next year to get them a table for tonight. 

When he pulls up in front of the entrance not much later he gets out and hands his keys to the valet, before he walks over to her side and opens the door, offering his hand to help her out of the car. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, not letting go once she’s outside.

Daniel feels- There’s a fleeting thought that he can just about grasp before it disappears again, something about how if something as simple as holding her hand already feels this good, he can’t wait to find out what it will feel like when he finally gets to kiss her.  

Inside they’re greeted by the Maître D’ who leads them to a private table in the back of the restaurant and when they sit down she looks around in wonder, “It’s beautiful here.”

He’s only got eyes for her though and so he hums in reply. Part of him wants to get to date over with, wants to take her home and see where the night takes them. The other part wants to stay in this moment forever. Before he has time to figure out what that means the waiter comes over and hands them their menus and he busies himself with that instead. 

Once they’ve made their choice and the waiter comes by with a glass of white wine for her and water for him - he’s still in the middle of a season after all - his phone buzzes to let him know he’s got a new notification and the only reason he checks it is because she’s busy talking to the waiter about their wine selection. He can feel his eyes widen when he sees it’s a iCal invite from Blake for a meeting with Christian next Wednesday 

“Everything ok?”

She sounds worried and so he quickly looks up at her and tries his best reassuring smile when he sees she’s biting her lip in anticipation, “Yeah, I uh-” he shakes his head, “I just got an invitation to a meeting that I’ve sort of been waiting for.” He hates not telling her the entire truth, but the waiter’s still hanging around their table and Daniel’s been sufficiently media trained that he knows strangers are not to be trusted. 

The waiter seems to take this as his cue to leave though and so Daniel leans forward, because he feels, especially after the way she was so honest and open with him about Ellie’s dad, he owes her one. Just to be sure he leans in and keeps his voice low, “It’s a meeting with Red Bull.”

He doesn’t know how much she knows about Formula One, doesn’t know if she cares about his career or the sport in general but then he sees her eyebrows knit together and she whispers back, “That’s your old team, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

She does that thing then, that she sometimes does with Ellie as well, where she gives him two options, to make it easier for her to understand his thoughts, “And is this a good or a bad thing?”

He thinks about it for a while, thinks about the meeting he had with Christian and Helmut after the Dutch Grand Prix, where, when Christin had first mentioned the option of becoming third driver, it had felt more like a curse than a blessing to him. Now though, he’s not so sure. 

He loves being a Formula One driver, really he does. Driving his car out on track is the best feeling in the world. Travelling the world and getting to see all these amazing places is a privilege he’s very aware only a few people get to have. And yet it still feels as if there’s something missing. He first noticed at Renault, when the team didn’t give him the car they promised him they would, but back then he ignored it and put it down to changing teams. When it only got worse at McLaren he thought maybe it wasn’t the sport that betrayed him. Maybe he betrayed himself.

Ever since the summer break there’s been a little voice in the back of his mind that tells him maybe it’s ok if he doesn’t get a seat in Formula One next year, maybe what he needs is some time away from it all, maybe that will help him find what he’s been looking for over the past four years, maybe what he’s been looking for has been right in front of him since-

“Daniel?”

Her voice interrupts his thoughts and when he finds her smiling at him with that kind smile she usually only reserves for Ellie he knows he zoned out for a minute. He shakes his head, “Sorry. I just-” 

She seems to know something is bothering him because she leans forward and puts her hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He hasn’t really spoken to anyone about this, Michael and Blake think they’re still fighting for a seat, heck, even his parents think he’ll do whatever it takes to stay in the sport next year but somehow he finds himself nodding, “Yeah. I think I do.” 

***

All throughout the starter and the main course he talks and you listen and when he tells you about his time at Renault and McLaren your heart aches for him when you hear how the sport he used to love so deeply has taken so much from him. 

“So yeah,” Daniel says as he fiddles with the salt shaker, both your plates now sitting empty between you, “a second meeting with Christian sounds pretty good.” He lets out a shaky laugh then, “Unless he’s going to tell me he wants to retract his offer. That would suck.” 

“Daniel-”

“It’s ok,” he quickly reassures you, his smile genuine this time and waving his hand around. “I’ve known Christian for a while now, if he didn’t want this to go through he would have called already, not set up another meeting.” He lets out a heavy sigh then, “I just- It feels like I’m about to settle. But it also feels like this might be a good thing, you know? I don’t know. I wish I had a clear answer.” 

He hasn’t asked for your advice and even if he had you wouldn’t have told him what you think he should do. It doesn’t matter. It’s his choice. And part of you already think he’s made up his mind and so you tell him, “Listen to your heart. I think you’ll find the answer right there.”

***

Daniel smiles and looks down at where he’s turning the salt shaker between his hands, “Yeah.” 

She’s right, of course she is, because he knows what he wants to do. 

He wants to go home. 

***

When the waiter comes by to ask if he can get them anything else, both of you shake your head and Daniel asks for the check instead. You watch as he pays, tipping generously, and when he gets up and holds out his hand for you to take you do so without hesitating. 

It’s raining when you get outside, the wind having picked up a lot since this afternoon, the promise of a late winter storm hanging heavy in the air, and so you rush to the car, you with your purse over your head and Daniel pulling you from left to right as he tries to avoid the puddles that are scattered across the road. Your giggles and Daniel’s laugh filling the air around you long after you make it inside the car. 

The drive back is quiet but never uncomfortably so, Daniel quietly singing along to the songs on the radio and you staring at the raindrops that slide down the window, tracing their path with your eyes and sometimes your finger. You’re a little lost in thoughts, wondering how things will go from here, wondering what it is you and Daniel are. Friends, for sure, but is this turning into something more even a possibility? He leaves for Singapore on Tuesday and he’ll be gone for almost two more months after that, so would this even work? Does he even like you like that? Do you even like him that way? 

You don't want to dive into this head first, after all you've got Ellie to worry about. Ellie, who seems to be as smitten with Daniel as you are. Who you’ve never seen trust someone so wholeheartedly right from the get go. You’re not sure if she’s old enough to remember Daniel if- You shake your head, not wanting to get ahead of things. If anything you like to see where this goes, not just now but also after, when he comes back once the season is over. You just hope Daniel feels the same way. 

All too soon Daniel turns onto your driveway and when he pulls up to the house not much later he immediately turns the engine off, a hesitant smile when he looks at you, “Don’t want to wake Ellie up.”

You smile at him, your heart about to burst out of your chest with how, even now, he thinks of Ellie, "Thank you."

"So uhm," Daniel starts, turning towards you in his seat. "My parents are hosting a barbecue on Sunday, 'cause it's the last time I'll be home for a while, you know? Anyway, I was wondering-" he looks away and fiddles with his keys before he clears his throat, "I was wondering if maybe you and Ellie would like to come. And Oscar, if he's up for it. I know it’s super short notice so-"

"Daniel," you start, not sure what you want to say next.

"It's only a few people," he quickly adds. "My sister and her husband and kids, Blake, Michael- It's just-" he smiles and shrugs, "I told my mom about helping out here and she really would like to meet you." Daniel looks at you expectantly, "It starts at noon, so you would be back in time to take care of the girls. And it won't be too late of a bedtime for Ellie either."

You can't help but smile, endeared by the way he seems to have thought of everything. And even though the idea of meeting his family seems a little daunting, you try to tell yourself that maybe it's only fair if you do - after all, he's already met the most important person in your life as well - and so you nod, "I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree easily enough. "Text me the address and we'll be there." 

"Mint," Daniel replies with a grin. 

"I should probably head inside," you nod towards the house. "I told Abby we'd be back before midnight." You wait for him to do something, thinking maybe he would take the lead and kiss you, but when he doesn't move you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek instead, "Thank you for tonight, Daniel. I had a great time."

"So did I." He taps the steering wheel a few times before he looks back at you, "We should do this again sometime."

The promise of another date unleashes a herd of butterflies into your stomach but you try to play it cool, "We should." You unbuckle your seatbelt then and step outside, leaning back in as he starts the car, "See you tomorrow?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says, tipping his imaginary hat. "At your service."

You laugh, "Bye." 

***

Fuck. He should have just kissed her.

***

You watch as he drives away and let out a heavy sigh, quietly berating yourself for not kissing him.

#Daniel Ricciardo #F1 Fanfic #Daniel Ricciardo x reader #F1 imagine #DR3 #Harley Sunday x Daniel Ricciardo #Feels Like Home

[paradiqms]

(6) to you, 2000 years from now.

hongjoong x fem!reader.

tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?

summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.

word count: 5k

currently, six out of ?

previous.

out of all the times he worked with seonghwa, hyunjin thinks this might be the riskiest mission ever.

the assassin doesn’t doubt his abilities whatsoever. if anything, he thinks he’s more than capable of handling the job, especially since it involved stealing something from the royal family of cygnus. sneaking into the castle and breaking into the underground cellars was mere child’s play to the long-haired man – the only thing that took some enjoyment out of his task was the fact that seonghwa specifically told him not to cause any harm to the royal family.

“it’ll cause unnecessary trouble,” the pirate said during one of their meetups. “we’re already hunted down by pyxis, so just steal the map piece and get out as soon as you can.”

hyunjin had groaned after being denied the pleasure of spilling the blood of royals that he considered dirty, earning himself a light smack over the head by seonghwa. the assassin didn’t understand why the latter would request such a thing back then, but after tonight’s exchange, he finally understands.

the golden ring slides across the tip of his fingers smoothly as hyunjin rolls the accessory with ease, an obvious look of distress on his features. the tavern’s liveliness doesn’t die out even after what felt like an hour or two after seonghwa left with the girl – or should he say the royal.

seriously, hyunjin groans to himself. does he think i’m stupid?

it didn’t take the young man a full minute to connect the dots and figure out who the woman really was. seonghwa’s cloak draped over her shoulders with the hood over her head, the angered look on her face when the pirate gave hyunjin the ring that looked far too extravagant, even her entire aura and overall presence just screamed royal right in hyunjin’s face. his fingers twitched underneath the table, itching to grab the knife sheathed on his belt, but he resisted.

if it weren’t for the fact that he trusted seonghwa and his decisions greatly, he would’ve stabbed the royal right in her chest as soon as he found out.

with a frustrated sigh, the assassin stands up from his seat, the legs of his wooden chair screeching against the floorboards. he stomps his way out of the tavern through the back door, and to his surprise, he catches the lone silhouette of the person he wanted to talk to more than anything at this very moment.

“well well well,” hyunjin hums, pocketing the golden ring that he was previously playing with. “if it isn’t the pirate king himself. what are you doing out here all alone?”

“to remind you of your place.” hongjoong shrugs his shoulders as he leans against the wall behind him. “you know, don’t you?”

“you’re gonna have to be more specific, captain.” hyunjin strides forward slowly, the title falling from his lips with a tone that’s bound to set the other male off. he catches the way hongjoong’s eye twitches, and it makes a satisfied smirk creep onto his face.

“oh, i’ll be specific.” the pirate pushes himself off from the wall to move closer to the assassin, rough hands grabbing onto his collar.

“my second in command was foolish enough to bring her along to your little meetup,” hongjoong scowls. “but if you even think about harming a single hair on her head, the things i’ll do to you will make even the devil turn away with fear. do i make myself clear?”

even within the cold night air, hyunjin feels hongjoong’s eyes burn into him with a fire that might as well have been dragged from the pits of hell by his own hands. he returns the hard stare, the mischief in the assassin’s eyes only fanning the flame in hongjoong’s and making him almost feel dizzy with anger.

“look at you,” hyunjin taunts, voice barely above a whisper. “going all soft for a royal. have you forgotten why you snatched her up on your ship in the first place?”

the fire in hongjoong’s eyes flicker for a moment following the assassin’s words, and hyunjin knows he pressed on the right buttons.

“thought so.” he scoffs before pushing the other male away from him, watching the latter stumble on his feet. “don’t waste your precious time on a pathetic royal, pirate king. we both know she’ll have you and your entire crew hanging from the gallows as soon as her royal guard dogs catch up to you.”

the fire entirely dies out soon enough. hongjoong’s eyes go back to their cold, hard stare, not a glimpse of emotion seeping from the dark irises as they stare into a pair just as empty.

“whether or not she’ll have me hanged,” hongjoong says as he turns to walk away. “is entirely her decision, just as it is mine to have your head on my wall if you disregard my warning.”

without another word, the pirate leaves hyunjin alone in the dark back alley, uncaring of the way he can still feel the assassin’s stare following his every move.

the moment you wake up, you feel like you’re still dreaming.

the song of the early morning birds gently bring you out of your drowsiness, soft sunlight peeking from the curtains next to the soft bed you’re currently resting on. the covers are wrapped around your body comfortably as if someone had tucked you in, and it takes you absolutely everything you’ve got to force yourself to sit up.

you can’t remember the last time you’ve properly rested on a bed after spending days swaying back and forth on a hammock with your wrist cuffed to a pillar. as you take in the new surroundings of the bedroom, your eyes catch a single piece of paper by the nightstand on top of a pile of clothes. you reach out for it, and you squint your eyes at the unfamiliar handwriting.

dear sleeping beauty,

by the time you’re awake and reading this, i’ve already left. don’t worry, i won’t be gone for long, i’m only out to grab some breakfast in bed for you. i have left some clothes for you to use after you freshen up. they are all mine, so i apologize if they don’t fit you properly. please stay put and don’t leave the bedroom until i come back.

from,

seonghwa.

a small smile twitches on your dry lips once you finish reading the note. you remember, albeit very fuzzy and probably missing a lot of detail, how the blond pirate held you last night while you were bawling your eyes out and hyperventilating. you come to the conclusion that he must’ve carried you to the building you’re currently in and tucked you in bed after you passed out.

without wasting another minute, you place the note back down on the nightstand before picking up the clothes seonghwa had chosen for you, making your way towards the bathroom provided within the room. once you enter, there’s a mirror hanging on the wall by the sink, and you make the wrong decision to look into your own reflection.

the circles under your eyes are as dark as the ink you used to dip your quilt in, the skin of your lips pale and most probably on the verge of peeling off – and good lord, is that a pimple? you turn away from the mirror with a small cringe on your face. it seems that your days of being borderline neglected on the ship has finally caught up to you.

you begin to shed yourself from your old clothes, starting with the dark cloak that remains hugging your frame ever since last night. your nose catches the slightly familiar scent of a certain bright haired pirate as you peel the cloak off, a scent that had washed over you as he held you in his arms as if you were as fragile as the porcelain cups you used to drink from. you shake your head to get rid of the sudden mental image of seonghwa’s face in your mind, quickly placing his cloak somewhere so it won’t get wet along with your old clothes.

by the time you’ve finished scrubbing off all the grime that stuck on your skin and patting your skin dry, you hear someone knock on the bedroom door. you stiffen up at the unexpected visit, but the sound of seonghwa’s muffled voice calling out for you makes you soften up.

“i’m still changing!” you respond. “i’ll be out in a minute.”

with slightly clumsy hands grasping at the unfamiliar set of clothes, you start to slip the garments on one by one, the layers providing you the perfect amount of warmth and comfort. the fabrics fit you better than you had expected, save for the length of the trousers and sleeves that reach further than your own limbs could go. after grabbing seonghwa’s cloak, you push the bathroom door open, and you’re met with the very same pirate standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the room, his hands carrying two small boxes.

“good morn – oh.” seonghwa’s eyes widen slightly as he takes in your appearance, covered entirely in his clothes that were a bit too long you. he can feel a warmth creeping onto his cheeks and slithering its way up to the tip of his ears, attempting to cover it up by coughing into his fist before placing down the boxes he was previously holding.

“here,” seonghwa mumbles, making his way towards the spot you’re standing in before kneeling down. “let me help.”

you watch with bewilderment as the pirate starts to fold the cuffs of the trousers as to not make them pool around your feet, hands skillfully rolling them upwards until they reach your ankles. from the way you’re looking down at him with your current positions, you can see the tinge of red decorating the edges of his ears.

“i’m sorry if they’re uncomfortable,” he says. “they’re the only pieces of clothing i had that i thought would fit you.”

you shake your head at the man’s words, although he’s unable to even see you from the way he’s still kneeling in front of you.

“no,” you respond, a small smile gracing your lips. “they’re nice and warm. thank you.”

seonghwa swears he could feel the temperate of the room spike up as he listens to how your smooth voice thanks him. he’s quick to clear his throat and stand back straight once he’s satisfied with the way the cuffs of your trousers are neatly rolled up.

“that’s good to know.” he mumbles. “ahem, anyway– i bought some breakfast. you should eat before we board the ship.”

your eyes light up as seonghwa nudges you along with him to sit on the bed, pulling out a chair for himself to settle down across from you. he places one of the small boxes on your lap, and you open it with excited hands.

within the cardboard box sits a neat, cleanly cut piece of cake, the layers in between colored with the flavors that you’ve loved ever since your younger days. there’s a thin coating of cream on the top tinged in your favorite color paired with bite-sized bits of the fruit that your personal maids would bring to you every morning without fail, which also happens to be your favorite.

sitting quietly and observing your reaction, seonghwa wears a knowing smile on his lips.

“this is…” you breathe out, slowly lifting the box from your lap as if to inspect the piece of pastry placed inside closer. “this… i used to eat this a lot when i was younger.”

“is that so?” seonghwa feigns mild astonishment, opening up his own little box. “i randomly picked that out. seems like i have quite the luck.”

a wistful, weak smile curves on your lips as you continue to merely stare at the piece of pastry. you remember, with a heavy heart, the last time you had a slice of this specific cake.

you could still hear the drops of heavy rainfall against the roof of the small attic space turned bedroom that you used to visit every night, the familiar scent of your loved one clinging onto the bedsheets that were wrapped around your frame making you feel warm and fuzzy inside as you watch the young man sitting next to you take a bite of your favorite cake.

you remember the way his eyes had twinkled with delight once the sweet, rich flavor of the pastry melted on his tongue, and you remember smiling so widely to the point your cheeks began aching as you watched your first love enjoy something that you decided to share with him. you had spent another night in his arms, comfortable beneath the warm sheets to avoid the cold that the midnight rain came with, promising one another to share each other’s favorite things every now and then.

the first time you shared something that brought you comfort with him became the last time you ever tasted the piece of pastry – because, several days and nights would pass, and you couldn’t bear the sickeningly sweet taste of it anymore once you lost sight of the boy with hair that shined like the stars.

seonghwa seems to have noticed the way you’re spacing out, and he gently taps his finger on your shoulder to bring you back. you jolt a little, snapping your head back up to look at the man in front of you. his lips are still curving upwards with a smile that reflects the same gentleness his eyes hold.

“no time to frown now, your highness.” seonghwa offers you the plastic fork that came with the packaging, gesturing for you to take it. “eat up, we have a long day ahead of us.”

the pirate sits back as he watches you take the small utensil from him with a sniffle, a feeling akin to satisfaction growing in the confines of his chest as he watches you enjoy the pastry hongjoong had asked him to get for you.

“she likes the one with fruit toppings,” his captain had mumbled earlier this morning, avoiding his gaze as he stares at the bustling streets of cygnus from the window. “and thin cream. she doesn’t like too much of it, it makes her sick. ask for a bigger slice too; i’m assuming it’s been a while since she’s had cygnus pastries.”

seonghwa blinked at hongjoong’s words, frozen in place as he was making his way down the stairs of the inn that the other male had rented out completely for his crew to rest in during the night.

“what?” hongjoong turned to face the other pirate. seonghwa can make out the dark circles under his eyes even from the poor flickering lights of the lobby. “you’re going to get her breakfast, aren’t you? that fool hasn’t eaten anything proper for days. the least you could do while we’re here is to get her something she can actually digest. i’m not looking forward to having a spoiled royal starve to death on my ship.”

the words fell from hongjoong’s lips faster than his brain can tell him to stop, immediately regretting his decision to even utter a single sentence out once he feels seonghwa’s eyes burning into the back of his head. but he remained still, arms crossed over his chest that’s aching and thumping from the wild beats of his heart due to the memories of sharing that godforsaken cake with you under the sheets of his bed on a rainy night.

“… got it, captain.” he heard seonghwa say after what felt like an eternity.

just as his right-hand-man turned to open the door of the inn, hongjoong hears him call out once more.

“you should just be honest with yourself,” the blond spoke, and the ache in hongjoong’s chest worsens. “we both know you don’t have much time left. you shouldn’t waste it on hating someone who still loves you.”

“don’t speak on topics you know nothing of, park seonghwa.” hongjoong had clenched his jaw, digging his nails into the palm of his cold hands. another beat of silence follows the captain’s words, but before long, the sound of the door creaking open and closing right afterwards reached his ears.

hongjoong was alone, once again. the words that came out of his second in command’s mouth echoes in his throbbing head, making his vision blur.

someone who still loves me, he solemnly thinks to himself. is that right?

silence answers in it’s own words, leaving hongjoong dissatisfied, as how he always is whenever it comes to anything related to you and your nature.

before you know it, you’re back on the ship, surprisingly on your own terms this time and not carried over the shoulders of a certain red haired pirate after being drugged.

you and seonghwa were the last ones to arrive, the other members of the crew already gathered in the main deck facing a familiar statured man who stands at the front. from your position behind seonghwa’s broad shoulders, you manage to catch a glimpse of the captain’s armband, and the mere sight of it makes you frown.

“look who’s finally here.” hongjoong claps his hands mockingly once he notices you and seonghwa, the clicks of his heavy boots against the deck’s wooden floorboards scratching your brain in all the wrong ways. “we were just about to set sail without you.”

you hear seonghwa scoff at his captain’s words.

“bold of you to think that you’d reach absolutely anywhere without this,” the taller male reaches into his pocket to fish out the scroll that’s still neatly tied with a red thread. “and her.”

a confused noise gets caught in the back of your throat when seonghwa mentions you. you feel several pairs of eyes turn to look at you, and you feel yourself shrink behind the blond pirate’s back, but he’s quick to wrap his slender fingers around your wrist to pull you out and make you stand next to him properly.

hongjoong spares you a quick glance, eyes narrowing and the edges of his mouth arching downwards once he’s done scanning you from head to toe.

the clothes you’re wearing look familiar, the captain thinks.

“… seonghwa,” you whisper, tugging on the man’s sleeve. “what do you mean, me?”

“did you think we brought you aboard for shits and giggles?” hongjoong interrupts, and you send him a heated glare that he merely mirrors with just as much fire. the dark-haired man treads closer towards you and seonghwa only to snatch the scroll out of his right-hand-man’s grip.

“this,” hongjoong waves the piece of rolled parchment in front of your face as if he were talking to a child. “is the last piece of the map that we’ve been compiling for god knows how long. apparently, legends say that only one person is able to decipher it once all the pieces have been reunited.”

with another heavy step closer into your personal space, hongjoong nudges you with the scroll as if to put some emphasis on his next sentence, making you stumble on your feet.

“and that’s where you come in, dear pureblood royal of pyxis.”

the cogs in your head come whirring with realization.

pyxis, a kingdom named after the constellation of a compass within the dark night sky. you remember vaguely how your late mother would tell you stories of each and every one of the constellations that twinkled with wonder during your childhood, your eyes following the movement of her finger as she traced the outlines that connected the stars together.

“and that’s pyxis,” she had told you, her voice as gentle as the night breeze. “it’s a compass, do you see it? it’s said that the very first rulers of our kingdom were blessed by the heavens, to have the pure life essence of the stars running in their veins that would allow them to see what others cannot, and to be the north star that will guide every lost ship back home.”

your little brain didn’t quite understand the words your mother had explained to you back then, but a big smile grew on your face nonetheless.

“do we have that gift, mama?” you had asked the former queen. “does that mean we’re stars, too?”

“of course,” your mother smiled, embracing your small frame in her arms. “you’ll always be mama’s brightest star.”

a small breath escapes from your trembling lips, previously unfocused eyes now narrowed as they stare at the impassive look on the captain’s face as he waits for your answer.

“you…” your voice falters. “if you think for one second that i’ll help you, then you’ve gone completely mad.”

everything happened faster than you could register. one second hongjoong had the map in front of your face, the darkened piece of old parchment’s texture giving a weird feeling against your skin, and the next second he’s pointing his gun at you. you can see the way seonghwa immediately stiffens in his spot next to you, and behind hongjoong, san is holding onto wooyoung who looks like he’s about to pounce at the captain.

“i’m not giving you a choice here.” hongjoong hisses out, pressing the cold and hard material of his weapon against your forehead. “you will decipher the map for us or else i’ll–”

i’ll blow your brains out and toss your body overboard, is what hongjoong would usually promise when his patience runs thin in the presence of a difficult situation. but for reasons that he would rather die than admit out loud, the captain suddenly finds himself  speechless in your presence. your eyes shake anxiously, a slight tremble to your lips that you’re desperately trying to stop by chewing on them. with a quick glance downwards, hongjoong notices the way you’re picking at the skin around your nails, and his own knuckles turn white as his grip tightens on his weapon.

she’s still doing that, hongjoong somberly thinks. he remembers the way he would hold onto your hands whenever he caught you picking at your skin, lacing his fingers with yours to stop you from giving in to the bad habit.

seonghwa catches up on the captain’s reluctance, and he’s quick to shove hongjoong’s weapon out of your face before sliding himself in between you and the other pirate.

“captain, calm down.” the blond pirate’s voice goes deep as he voices out the warning. “threatening her won’t get you anywhere.”

as hongjoong’s eyes go back and forth between the taller pirate and you, something clicks in his head.

the familiar set of clothes you’re wearing, the way you had arrived on board at the same time as seonghwa, how you were sticking yourself onto his side earlier, the sight of seonghwa’s dark cloak that hongjoong would recognize anywhere being draped over your figure last night, the whole fact that his second in command went out of his way to buy breakfast for you mere hours before?

“oh.” hongjoong breathes out, an amused and sick smile twisting onto his lips that makes a shiver go down seonghwa’s spine. “i see. seems like i’m not the only one ignoring my duties for a mere girl.”

at the way hongjoong quoted his own words, seonghwa grits his teeth and lifts his hands to roughly shove the other pirate backwards, the single action causing the other crew members to quite literally explode into chaos as they do their best to hold the two fuming pirates back from gouging each other’s eyes out.

wooyoung is quick to go over to your side and hide you behind his back while another pirate who you’re not acquainted with yet settles himself in between the quarreling pair, long arms placed onto both of their chests to keep them at a safe distance from one another.

“break it up, you two!” he scolds, eyebrows arched with annoyance. “you’re acting like children, seriously.”

“piss off, jeong yunho.” hongjoong hisses, eyes not breaking their heated glare with the blond pirate who looks like there might as well be steam coming out of his ears.

“that’s cute, capt.” yunho scoffs. “calm down, please. we’re not getting any closer to our next stop like this.”

wooyoung’s hand finds yours as he slowly brings you away from the scene, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist. you follow him closely, keeping your steps light as if one wrong move could set things off once again. just as you set foot on the top stair that leads down towards the crew’s quarters, you make the decision to turn around, and you catch hongjoong’s gaze.

it must’ve been a trick under the light of the early cygnus morning, because to you, it seemed like the captain’s eyes softened up for a moment, the tightened muscles around his well-sculpted face relaxing for the briefest minute before resuming to their stone cold expression. you watch quietly as he roughly shoves yunho’s hand away from his chest before stomping his way to his personal quarters, slamming the door behind him so hard, you swear you felt the entire ship shake for a second.

“they can be so fussy sometimes.” wooyoung’s words bring you out of your bubble, and you swivel your head forward to face the red haired pirate. “sorry you had to see that, your highness. captain has a temper.”

“i can tell.” you mumble. the crew’s quarters remain the same, dark and quiet, save for the sound of creaking floorboards and sloshing water. wooyoung settles you down on the hammock that you’ve missed during your one night stay in cygnus before running a hand through his hair with a loud sigh.

“they’re not always like that,” the pirate says as he leans against one of the pillars that your hammock is tied to. “they’re really close, actually. but captain has been a little… different, ever since.. you know.”

ever since i came, you finished wooyoung’s sentence by yourself inside your head.

the commotion on the main deck dies out soon enough, and another figure comes descending from the small flight of stairs. you quickly make the new visitor out as yunho.

“hi.” the freakishly tall pirate breathes out as if he’s out of breath. you nod at his way as a greeting of your own. “i know you might need some time to cool down after what happened, but i really need you to work with me right now.”

yunho pulls out several pieces of aged paper, all rolled neatly into similar sized scrolls and secured with a red thread. you realize that he’s here to convince you to decipher the goddamn map again, and without a second thought, you turn away.

“like i said,” you grumble. “if you think i’m going to help you read that stupid map, then you’re insane. i’m not helping any of you.”

“your majesty,” yunho says, as if the flattering title would make you listen to any of the words that came out of his mouth. “with all due respect, i’m not giving you a chance either. as the ships navigator, i need you to decipher this map for me.”

you dare yourself to look at the tall pirate standing next to your hammock, and there’s not a single hint on his face that makes him look like he’ll even allow you to turn him down another time. but you’re not one to easily give in yourself.

“no.” you respond. “i’d rather you feed me to the sharks.”

“hey,” you hear wooyoung butt in from his spot near the pillar. “don’t say that. they might actually consider it.”

“we already are.” yunho deadpans before heaving out a heavy sigh, putting away the map pieces. “please, before captain loses his shit again, consider helping us.”

when you don’t even turn to look at his way, yunho frowns.

“… let’s go, wooyoung.” you notice how the taller pirate’s tone seems to change, his voice dropping lower as if it wasn’t already booming against your eardrums the first time you heard it, and it sends shivers down your spine. you hear wooyoung’s shoes against the floor as he follows yunho, albeit rather slowly, away from the crew’s quarters, leaving you alone once again.

you rest atop the hammock, staring up at the empty ceiling before closing your eyes, an ache in your chest when you can practically see pyxis’ constellation on the back of your eyelids.

the north star that will guide every lost ship back home.

your mother’s words echo in your head, and only now do you realize that it sounds a bit familiar. you’re suddenly back in pyxis, sitting on top of a small bed within an attic space turned bedroom where the walls are decorated with all sorts of poems with you as the muse.

so bright and beautiful, the north star that leads me home.

home. to you, he was your home. a home that was burnt to the ground by his own hands that used to hold you so dearly, the same hands that pointed a gun to your head. your heart aches all over again, but you shake your head to try and get rid of the voice of the gentle poet who died long ago, only to be replaced with a heartless pirate.

you press the palm of your hands against your closed eyes with a frustrated groan as if to stop the onslaught of fresh tears that threatened to spill out.

you can’t keep crying over someone who’s already gone, you remind yourself. it’s pointless. pathetic, even.

home. oh, how you wish you could go back home, as well. not to your personal chambers in the palace, or anywhere at all within the place you had lived in for most of your life. you wish you could go back to six years ago, where everything was nothing short of perfect.

unbeknownst to you, within the captain’s quarters, a certain pirate shares the same exact thoughts.

next.

taglist: @atinytinaa @crimson-mia @catwhisk @lelaleleb@realrya @layzfeelit @atinyreads @revehosh @fourthirtyone-am

#hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #hongjoong fic #hongjoong x you #ateez angst #ateez imagines #hongjoong fluff #ateez x you #i dont like this chapter a bit huhuhu #but i hope you all still like it hhehe

[enbyleighlines]

Ugh I am so uncomfortable right now

I have a sinus infection and I haven’t been sleeping well the past couple of nights, so I’m tired, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to fall asleep

But I’m also too tired to do anything else, so I’m just stuck in this state of absolute boredom

So I just binged a bunch of anime today

Finished Dungeon Meshi and loved it. Absolute banger of a show. And so many attractive character designs. Laios? Kabru?? Daya??? The other female dwarf???? That evil elf twink????? The female orc??????

All it needs is a super femme, super bitchy queen bee type character, and it will have satisfied ALL of my types

Also Falin and Marcille are so yuri coded, love that friends to lovers schoolgirl energy

I also watched the first episode of that omegaverse anime. It was p good. I was confused why they decided to make alpha/omega relationships the taboo one, since typically that is the most common one. Because they wanted the characters to face adversity without directly including homophobia, I suppose?

Then why not make them an alpha/alpha or omega/omega pair?? That’s something I haven’t seen before, and it would better align with the whole metaphorical homophobia thing!

I mean, I know why they didn’t, but idk. It would have been more interesting in my opinion.

Additionally, I had a hard time focusing on the anime due to the way they portrayed the child, Hikari. They said he was 1 going on 2, so as someone who works with that age group, I couldn’t help but notice every time Hikari wasn’t acting his age.

I won’t bore anyone with details, but basically, his gross motor movement is pretty behind for a boy who is almost 2. Meanwhile, his cognitive and emotional development is quite advanced for that age group. His ability to speak in nearly full sentences is not entirely out of the realm of possibility (I’ve taught 1 year olds with advanced vocabularies before) but his ability to still access his vocabulary during moments of emotional distress is less convincing.

I wish it was that easy to communicate with toddlers in the midst of an emotional meltdown. It would make teaching so much easier.

However, I did think it was a cute touch that after being compared to a star, Hikari spent the rest of the day pointing out every star he saw and calling it his own name. And I appreciate that they didn’t bother showing us the 20 more times he did the same exact thing the following two weeks.

Toddlers will 100% become obsessed with a tiny detail they overhear, and talk about it almost exclusively for weeks afterwards.

So be careful about what you say around toddlers. You never know what they will internalize and repeat like a broken record for the next 14 days straight.

Anyway, that’s basically my day in a nutshell.

I’m tired of watching anime, so if anyone wants to ramble about something to me to keep me entertained while I ride out this sinus infection, please do so.

You could tell me about one of your ocs, or the last anime you watched, or gush to me about your otp, whatever suits your fancy.

Also, please do contact me if you have thoughts on which cuties from Dungeon Meshi should kiss. So far the only ones I’m shipping are Marcille and Falin, so I am open to learning more about the popular ships of the fandom.

#dungeon meshi #tadaima okaeri

[mad-c1oud]

“Don’t play the hero all the time.” with Etoiles and Slime if you'd like!!! They truly are blorbos <3

nonnie they really are, you're sooooooooo right

Charlie pov starcicle for a change

(more dialogue prompts here and here!! Thank you sm for this one anon <3)

+++++

“Don’t play the hero all the time.”

Charlie would feel bad for making Étoiles wince with how rough he’s being as he plays nurse, but he can’t find it in himself to calm down. Not after everything that just happened. He’s tired of almost losing this stupid fucking cucumber with a death-is-noble complex. It’s gonna give him grey hairs at this point. Grey slime. Whatever.

Étoiles hisses when Charlie accidentally brushes against an open wound along his arm in his haste to wrap the gouge in his shoulder. Fuck. He presses a warm but angry kiss to the back of his skull in an apology and the fighter hums happily. Idiot. Stupidstupidstupid-

“Then what other part am I going to play? You already have damsel in distress covered.”

Charlie rolls his eyes. “Har har, maybe consider the court jester route then, your jokes are getting better.” Étoiles snorts quietly, drooping forward tiredly. Charlie worries his lip between his teeth as he gently rights the fighter. He has to be exhausted after that fight. Pleased, content, and beyond satisfied with the outcome but tired. There’s a slump to his shoulders that Charlie rarely sees and it’s… it worries him. Étoiles is more than capable of doing what he does best, but Charlie wants to protect him too, he just has no idea how.

“Nothing compared to yours, Charlie,” The fighter probably means for it to come out sarcastically but his tone is sugary sweet and just so full of fondness that it has Charlie pausing where he’s winding gauze around the other’s torso to lean heavily into his back, arms coming up to wind around his waist carefully, mindful of the burns to his chest.

Charlie takes a moment to just breathe with the other, forehead pressed to the nape of his neck as they sit in silence. The stress of the day should be over, washed down the drain of the shower Charlie shoved Étoiles into the moment he won his fight, was out of arms way and in the circle of Charlie’s arms, back at home. Whole. Warm. Safe.

But there’s a lingering anxiety there, knowing this isn’t the last time they’ll be like this, but in all honesty, it’s an annoyingly fair trade. For all the times Charlie has to heal sew-up cuts and ice burns, Étoiles has to turn around and pull arrows out, replace broken bones. Back and forth. Around and around they go.

“You suck. Next time, let me play the plucky sidekick yeah? They always get cool deaths or super awesome heroic moments in the final battle. I need to complete my arc bro, lemme have that.”

Étoiles turns a little when Charlie finishes tucking the gauze into itself, wrappings bandaged limbs around the slime in as tight a hug as he can manage. Charlie tries to not actually melt into the embrace, sinking into the blissful warmth radiating from the star of the show. His star.

This is good. This is worth it all.

“Okay. Next time, Charlie.”

“Cool beans. Now unhand me, we’re not done with your boo-boos, babe.”

Étoiles giggles into Charlie’s hair, warm and happy and loose-limbed and safe. He’s safe. “No, I'm the hero and I won,so I am claiming my prize.”

Oh, this suave motherfuck- “That’s it, I’m going to bury you in the garden and see what happens. Say hi to the worms for me, dick.”

“Nononono Charlie haha please- not the dirt-“

Etoiles isn’t buried alive, but Charlie makes sure to bury him in kisses at least. Serves him right.

#they are silly #starcicle #etoiles #slimecicle #qsmp #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp drabble #qsmp etoiles #mad writings #mad box #gotta stop using mad for every personal tag #wrote this in 10 min excuse the mistakes and run on sentences

[cassarilladraws]

Evidence

Lukadrien Fluffuary (using this prompt list) Day 22: Sincere Flattery Prev | Next Read it on Ao3 Words: 1227 Rating: T Tags: Post-Reveal Lukadrien, Minor djwifi, Miraculous side effects “So you’re serious?” Alya raised an eyebrow. “I think it would take a pretty strong connection to a Miraculous for something like that to happen. It does seem like a possibility, I guess. Just, really unlikely.”

“It’s possible, and it happened.” Luka smiled, amused at her disbelief. “And Adrien has been a Miraculous holder longer than any of us have been, if anyone is going to be dealing with something like that it’s him.”

“Dude, we are gonna need some evidence for this one.” Nino hummed.

“Evidence of what?” Adrien walked up just in time to hear the end of their conversation. He had to run an errand before the movie and was just trying to make it in time. “I hope I’m not late.”

“You’re not late.” Luka ignored the question entirely. Then he grabbed Adrien’s hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. “And you know I’d wait forever for you.”

The blonde tilted his head at the way Luka said those words. His boyfriend’s tone had shifted lower as he spoke. It wasn’t as if they didn’t flirt with each other constantly, or that his own theatrical style of flirting hadn’t rubbed off on Luka over time, but there was just something suspicious that Adrien couldn’t place.

What had he interrupted?

What evidence was Nino talking about?

“Thanks?” Adrien couldn’t hide the confusion in his voice. Alya and Nino exchanged a knowing glance that only added to the suspicious feeling. He decided to laugh it off lightheartedly instead of dwell on it too much. “You know I’d wait for you too, m’love. But I don’t think the movie will. Guess we should go ahead and go in.”

“We have a few minutes.” Luka stepped closer as their fingers laced together naturally. Then the guitarist looked around them and seemed satisfied that no one was too close by. “You know I think you’re incredible right? You’re the other half of my heart’s song."

Adrien swallowed. It’s not like he hadn’t heard all of this before. His boyfriend knew exactly how to play his heartstrings. The way the conversation shifted when he arrived had him feeling like he had interrupted something.

“You know I feel the same way about you babe.” Adrien’s head tilted again. “But what were you guys talking about?”

“We were talking about you actually.” Nino blurted out.

Alya nudged him with her elbow.

“What!?” Nino rubbed his arm. “We were!”

“It was nothing bad, promise.” Alya clarified.

Luka laughed and squeezed Adrien’s hand. “How could it be anything bad if it was about you?”

“Oh, you are laying it on thick right now.” Adrien narrowed his eyes.

“Am I?” Luka smiled innocently, but Adrien knew better. “Or are you just so amazing, brave, talented, kind, handsome, and wonderful that I can’t help myself?”

“Lukaaaa…” Adrien whined as he felt his cheeks heat up. He was sure there was an ulterior motive for the words Luka was saying. Yet, Adrien also knew that his boyfriend meant every word. They were from Luka’s heart. “What is going on?”

“Why do you think something’s up?” Luka’s voice was as sweet as sugar and he seemed amused at Adrien’s distress. “I just want to remind you of how awesome I think you are.”

Luka took Adrien’s other hand so they were standing face to face. He leaned in so their foreheads touched.

“This is a double date m’love, aren’t you afraid we might be making it a little awkward?” Adrien’s words packed no punch as Luka looked lovingly into his eyes.

“Not at all.” Luka answered sincerely.

The blonde felt his suspicions melt away. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my muse.” Luka pulled back just enough to start tilting his head. His eyes darted to his love’s lips.

Adrien found himself doing the same. His eyes closed as their lips made contact.

The kiss was very short lived.

A rumble began in Adrien’s chest. The sound was fairly loud, but he quickly cut it off by jumping back and coughing theatrically.

“Sorry, sorry. I must have swallowed a bug or something.” His green eyes looked around frantically as he continued his performance. Once he realized no one was close enough to hear what just happened, the situation suddenly made sense.

He crossed his arms and glared at Luka. “AHA! I knew you were being suspicious! So, that’s what you guys were talking about.”

His boyfriend just shrugged. “They wanted evidence and you said it didn’t just happen on command, thought I could coax it out of you like usual.”

“Fair enough.”

“Oh. My. God.” Alya reached up and ruffled Adrien’s hair. “You really are taking this catboy thing pretty far there, Sunshine.”

“Not gonna lie, that’s adorable dude.” Nino laughed.

“I have no shame whatsoever about being the team’s resident catboy, thank you very much.” Adrien stated proudly.

“Probably part of the reason you have that side effect, Kid.” Plagg peaked out from Adrien’s hoodie pocket. “You don’t have an issue embracing that aspect of your powers.”

“Mmmhmm.” Alya lifted an eyebrow at the kwami. “You don’t think the fact that he has such a close bond with you and the Miraculous doesn’t have an effect on that too?”

“Maaaybe.” Plagg looked softly up at Adrien and then ducked back into the pocket. He wasn’t much for the ‘mushy’ stuff when other people were around. But they knew that the bond Plagg had with Adrien was stronger than any he’d had with the holders of the past.

“But uh… I mean, this is a pretty specific side effect.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “So, I guess I need to be careful so no one figures out my identity from it.”

“Personally, I think the coughing is a pretty good cover up.” Nino said approvingly. “People make all kinds of weird noises anyway, I wouldn’t have thought it was a purr if I didn’t know about it.”

“I think it’s a good go to. That and you two not letting the PDA get too out of hand in public.” Alya winked at the couple. Then she grabbed Nino’s hand and started walking towards the theater doors. “We should get in here though, before we do miss the movie.”

Luka’s fingers intertwined with Adrien’s again and he started walking forward. But Adrien stood still, stopping Luka in his tracks. 

The guitarist turned to face Adrien. “You okay?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am. I have good friends and an amazing boyfriend who are understanding and accepting of me even with all of my flaws and quirks.” Adrien smiled softly.

The smile was contagious to Luka. “We’re all just as lucky to have you in our lives too. And I happen to love your quirks.”

“Sorry for cutting off that kiss.” Adrien smirked mischievously. He scanned around them to make sure no one was too close, then he quickly leaned in and pressed their lips together.

He received a content hum from Luka as a result. This time Adrien felt the rumble in his chest and let it flow naturally.

The sensation wasn’t unfamiliar to either of them, but it happening outside of their super hero personas was certainly something they’d have to get used to.

It was a short, sweet kiss. They did have a movie to get to after all. 

#Lukadrien #Miraculous #Miraculous Ladybug #miraculous fanfic #Adrien Agreste #Luka Couffaine #Adrien and Luka #Chat Noir #Viperion #Cassarilla writes #djwifi #alyno #plagg #Alya Cesaire #Nino Lahiffe #Lukadrien Fluffuary #fluffuary2023 #Prompt: Sincere Flattery

[spencer-reids-adventures]

for @justiceforralvez, for the 2022 @cmgiftexchange 💕

prompts: ralvez, hurt/comfort, fluff, autistic spencer reid

---

in this world it's just us

one

The first time Luke sees it happen, he’s only recently joined the team. He doesn’t know Spencer very well yet, doesn’t know about his quirks and oddities, aside from no handshakes. They aren’t close yet. They aren’t together yet. The first time it happens, Luke isn’t quite sure what to do.

They’re at an unfamiliar precinct and the local LEOs are being insufferable, the weather is hot and muggy, and they’ve been working hard for hours with absolutely no leads. Spencer has been switching his time between geographical profiles and ciphers, and neither are leading to any satisfying headway. He starts to become overwhelmed with the entire situation, and though he can feel his throat growing tight, he ignores the sensation until it’s too late. As if there were anything he could have done about it anyway.

“Hey, you okay?” Luke asks, entering the room where Spencer’s sitting cross-legged on the table staring at a whiteboard and taking in his distressed face. “You look upset.”

Spencer opens his mouth but no words come out. Frustrated, he shakes his head and looks away. Then he signs, “Can’t speak,” but Luke doesn’t understand right away.

“I, uh, don’t speak sign language,” he says apologetically. “Are you—can you not talk?”

Spencer nods and stares down at his lap.

“Okay, hey, it’s okay,” Luke says comfortingly. “What can I do to help?”

Spencer shrugs and grabs a piece of paper and a pen.

Leave me alone for now, he writes. Please I’m sorry. I’ll explain later.

“You want me to put a sign on the door so no one else comes in?” Luke asks, reaching for the pen and paper. Spencer nods gratefully. Luke writes, Please do not disturb and grabs a piece of tape, jumping up and sticking the paper to the door of the conference room. “I’ll come check on you later, okay?” he says, and Spencer just nods.

two

That evening Spencer continues to communicate by writing notes, but the rest of the team doesn’t seem fazed. Luke wonders if this happens often, if they’re just used to this. He wonders if Spencer is used to this, if he ever could get used to this. More than anything, he seems embarrassed, and Luke hates to see him that way. He wants to do something, anything, to make it better.

They don’t really discuss it until months later, when they’re just beginning their relationship. They’re over at Spencer’s, watching documentaries on the couch, and Spencer has seemed tense all evening. All of a sudden, Spencer mutes the show and turns to glance at Luke.

“There’s something I feel like I should tell you,” he says. “You probably already know, but I’d rather it just be out in the open.”

“Okay,” Luke says easily. “You can tell me anything.”

“I’m autistic,” Spencer says. “That’s why I struggle with some things more than most people, and why I sometimes disappear on cases, and why I occasionally can’t speak. It’s all connected. The rest of the team knows, I’m pretty sure, though we’ve never really talked about it. Gideon knew, and I think he told them. But I wanted you to know, and I wanted you to hear it from me.”

Luke is quiet for a moment. “Thank you for telling me,” he says before it becomes awkward. “Thank you for trusting me with that information. When did you learn sign language?”

“When I was a kid. My mom and I both learned once she realized I went through periods where I couldn’t speak. She wanted to be sure we could always communicate with each other. We took classes together starting when I was five.”

“That’s amazing. Your mom is amazing.” He pauses. “Are you feeling okay about having told me all of this?”

“I think so. Just, please don’t treat me differently,” Spencer begs in a small voice. “Somes people talk to me differently, or treat me like a baby, and I’m not, I’m not any different, I’m just—it just is what it is. That’s the real reason I’ve never outright told the team. I don’t want them to treat me differently.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Luke promises. “You’re still you. You’re still Spencer. I just have a little bit more information, that’s all. You don’t have to be, like, ashamed or anything.”

“I’m not ashamed of being autistic,” Spencer clarifies. “I just don’t like telling people.”

“That’s valid,” Luke says. “I promise this doesn’t change anything between us.”

Spencer looks relaxed for the first time all night. “Thank you,” he says. “That means a lot to me.”

Luke is telling the truth; nothing changes between them. He uses the information to understand why Spencer does some of the things he does, and it makes a lot of things make more sense to him. But he doesn’t act like Spencer is someone who needs special treatment, he doesn’t handle him with kid gloves. He’s just Spencer, Luke’s boyfriend, and that’s that. 

The next time Spencer loses his voice in public, Luke makes sure to have a pen and paper handy, and though Spencer’s handwriting is shaky and unsure, he manages to communicate what he needs to with Luke, occasionally supplementing with signs that Luke doesn’t really understand, though he tries to remember the basic ones. It breaks Luke’s heart to know there isn’t more he can do to help.

three

Luke and Spencer have been together for two years, and Luke is acting strange, and he has been for months now, a year even, and Spencer doesn’t know what to do. As far as he can tell, nothing has really changed between them—they haven’t been fighting, they haven’t had any sort of falling out or miscommunication. Everything seems perfectly normal except for one thing.

Every Thursday night when they’re not on a case, Luke disappears, and he won’t tell Spencer where he’s going.

He doesn’t straight up refuse to tell Spencer, but when he leaves and Spencer asks where he’s going, he can tell that Luke is lying.

“Oh, I have a meeting with someone,” he’ll say vaguely, or “Oh, I have to go work out,” but then he won’t bring his workout clothes with him. For a profiler, he’s a very bad liar, and it makes Spencer nervous. He doesn’t understand why Luke won’t just tell him the truth about where he’s going. He doesn’t think Luke would cheat on him, but this behavior has him on edge, and he really doesn’t know what to think.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. He stops asking Luke where he’s headed, resigning himself to the fact that Luke is his own person and Spencer doesn’t need to keep tabs on him every second. He contemplates asking Garcia to ping his cell phone’s location, but he doesn’t want to be that kind of boyfriend. So instead, he keeps it bottled up, keeps it to himself, and waits to explode.

One Thursday, Luke gets home from wherever he’s been, and Spencer has locked himself in the bedroom and won’t come out. He knows he’s being petty and ridiculous, but he also doesn’t feel like he can trust Luke anymore, and he’s so agitated he’s lost the ability to speak completely.

Luke calls for him, banging on the door, begging for him to open it, but Spencer just can’t. He slides a note under the door that says, Not now, and Luke sighs and sits down on the other side of the door.

“Are you mad at me, Spence?” he asks, and Spencer wonders if he actually expects a reply.

Not now. He underlines where he wrote it the first time and pushes the paper back out.

“Please talk to me. Write to me. Whatever. Did I do something to upset you?”

I don’t want to talk about it.

“Please, cariño. Let me help you. Let me know what I did wrong.”

Spencer starts to write about how frustrated he is, about how Luke is lying to him, about how he doesn’t want to fight but he doesn’t understand why Luke doesn’t trust him anymore. Then he tears the paper up into pieces and begins to cry. When he can’t take it anymore, he opens up the door and looks at Luke.

“I hate this,” he signs. “You’re lying to me about where you go on Thursday nights. You don’t trust me, or you’re keeping something from me. I don’t understand what I did wrong. I don’t know what to do. I’m so mad at you and I don’t know what to do.”

Luke stares at him with wide eyes, a look of devastation crossing his face.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I trust you. You’re not doing anything wrong. I’m so sorry.”

Spencer gapes at him.

“I’m sorry,” Luke signs. “I’ve been taking classes. Learning ASL so I could understand you when you can’t speak. I should have told you.”

Spencer is overwhelmed with emotion and doesn’t know what to do. He can feel the tears falling down his cheeks, and they’re wet and slippery, and the sensation against his hot skin is awful. He wants to tell Luke, “I’m sorry, I forgive you, please help me,” but his brain won’t let him properly process those thoughts, so instead he just stands there and stares.

“Thank you,” he finally signs, and then drops to the floor and wraps his arms around his legs, resting his forehead on his knees. He rocks back and forth, trying to self-regulate, and Luke knows not to try to touch him, not right now. The doorway is silent as Spencer rocks and Luke watches helplessly.

Eventually, after what feels like hours but is probably more like 20 minutes, Spencer lifts his head and looks at Luke, his thoughts finally settling, though he still can’t speak. 

“You did that for me?” he signs.

“Of course I did,” Luke replies. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Luke stands up and helps Spencer up, and then Luke puts Spencer to bed, tucking him in carefully and placing a cup of water next to his side of the bed.

“Sweet dreams,” he says. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

four

When Luke wakes up, Spencer isn’t in bed next to him. He gets up and grabs his hoodie, zipping it up as he steps out into the kitchen, where Spencer has prepared a feast. The counter is piled high with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and fruit.

“What’s this?” he asks, and Spencer, who is facing away from him, jumps in surprise and spins around.

“I made you breakfast,” he says. “I was going to bring it to you in bed.”

“Why did you make me breakfast?”

Spencer stares at him. “Because I love you? And because you learned sign language for me? And because I feel bad for assuming you were doing something nefarious behind my back?”

“Nefarious?” Luke raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what I thought,” Spencer sighs. “I know you wouldn’t cheat on me. I know you wouldn’t do anything terrible. But I just didn’t know where you were going, and you wouldn’t tell me, and it made me a little bit crazy. I’m sorry I’m like this.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Spencer,” Luke says. “I should have told you. I know you don’t really like surprises, I don’t know why I decided I needed to surprise you with this. I should have just been honest from the beginning. I’m sorry I put you through that.”

“You have no reason to apologize. You did something so nice for me, and I need you to know how much it means to me. Thank you, Luke.”

“You’re welcome. But it’s no big deal. I just love you, you know? And I wanted to be able to communicate with you all the time. Just like your mom did.”

Spencer wipes his hand across his face, and Luke realizes that he’s crying.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he says with a sniff. “God, my mom is going to love you when she hears about this.”

“Your mom already loves me,” Luke points out.

“She’s going to love you even more.” 

Luke steps around the counter and wraps his arms around Spencer.

five

It’s a busy day in the office—the team is working out of Quantico on a local case, so though they’re at home, the stakes are high and everyone is exhausted and overworked. It’s been three days and Spencer hasn’t slept at all in that time. He knows everyone can tell he’s running on fumes, but at least they’re polite enough not to say anything about it.

There’s a fly in the room, and it’s buzzing around his head, occasionally getting close to his ear, and he can’t stand it. The sound makes him so uncomfortable, and he starts to feel itchy all over, almost as if he can feel the fly walking across his skin. 

The fluorescent light is flickering slightly and buzzing almost as loudly as the fly, and Spencer is completely overwhelmed by everything, he feels like he’s floating, he can feel his throat tightening…

JJ comes into the room with a stack of files and she starts talking loudly and quickly and Spencer can’t even process what she’s saying, can’t track the words or make any sort of sense out of them, and he’s frustrated and embarrassed, and he can’t say a word, and he doesn’t know what to do. JJ stares at him, clearly having asked him a question, and he can’t answer her, and he feels like he’s about two inches tall, and he’s contemplating crawling under the table when Luke walks into the room.

Hands flying, Spencer frantically explains that he’s overwhelmed and he doesn’t know what JJ wants and he’s about to lose it. Then he hunches over with his face in his hands, humiliated.

“Jayj,” he hears Luke say. “Spence is really struggling right now. I think it would be best if i take him home to get some rest. Can you let Emily know?”

“Yeah, of course,” JJ says. “Since when do you understand sign language?”

“It’s a long story,” Luke says, but Spencer can hear the grin in his voice. “I’ll tell you all about it sometime, but not right now. We’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah, go, go, I’ll talk to Emily. Feel better, Spence. Luke, take care of him.”

“I will,” Luke promises, and he takes a step closer to Spencer, who’s finally looked up from his hands. He slides off the table and stands close to Luke. “You ready to go?” Luke asks. 

Spencer nods and follows him out of the room. 

six

When they get home, Spencer curls up on the couch and wraps a blanket around his shoulders.

“You wanna stay out here?” Luke asks. “Or I can tuck you into bed if you’d prefer. It’s darker in there.”

“The light in here is okay,” signs Spencer. “Rather be out here.”

Luke nods and brings Spencer a glass of water. 

“Is there anything else you need?” he asks.

“Not right now. Going to lay down for a little while, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll just be around, so let me know if something comes up.”

Spencer rests for a couple of hours, and Luke manages to get some cleaning done and then listens to music while he tries to decide what to make for dinner. 

“Are smells bothering you?” he asks Spencer, who isn’t asleep, just staring up at the ceiling. “I was thinking of starting dinner.”

“I think it’ll be okay,” Spencer signs. “Make whatever you want. I’ll probably just have noodles.”

Luke makes himself some food, confident he’s not bothering Spencer, and then makes Spencer a bowl of noodles, which he carries to the living room and sets on the coffee table.

“I thought we could eat together,” he says. “If you want.”

Spencer clears his throat. “I do,” he says hoarsely. “Thank you for making me dinner.”

“Of course,” Luke says. “Sounds like your voice is coming back?”

Spencer nods. “Luke, that was amazing.”

Luke is confused. “What was amazing? It seemed like you were having a pretty bad day, actually.”

“No, I was,” Spencer clarifies. “But the fact that I could be in that state and you could still understand me—we could communicate without having to write everything down—I could tell you what I needed and you could ask me questions—I haven’t had that since I was a little kid, with my mom. And it makes such a huge difference. Thank you so much.”

“It’s nothing,” Luke says bashfully. “But you’re right, it was great to be able to understand you and communicate with you. Makes things so much simpler.”

“Do you think we should tell the team about us?”

Luke looks at him, eyes wide. “Where did that come from?”

“JJ asked when you learned ASL. What were you planning to tell her? That you learned because your random coworker occasionally can’t talk at work? Maybe it’s time we just tell them the truth about us. We practically live together at this point anyway. They’re going to figure it out sooner or later.”

“Maybe it is time to tell them,” Luke says. “I’ve been nervous, but I’m not really sure why.”

“I’m almost positive they’ll be supportive.”

“Almost?”

“You can never be 100% certain how someone is going to react to news like that,” Spencer explains. “My gut tells me it’ll be fine, but I don’t want to be caught completely off guard if something goes wrong.”

“That’s fair. Well, maybe we should tell Emily first, and see how she reacts. Since she’ll be doing the extra paperwork. And then if that goes well, we could tell the team?”

“Good plan.”

seven

Luke and Spencer meet outside Emily’s office a few days later, and Spencer knocks hesitantly.

“Come in,” calls Emily, and they step inside. “Hey guys,” she says. “How can I help you?”

Spencer looks at Luke, who clears his throat awkwardly. “We’ve come to disclose our relationship,” he says, reaching for Spencer’s hand. Spencer takes his and gives it a squeeze.

“Your relationship?” Emily’s mouth hangs open. “How did I not see this coming?”

“I have no idea,” Spencer says. “I didn’t think we were being that subtle, though we were trying to be.”

“You did a good job,” Emily says. “I had absolutely no idea. How long have you guys been together?

“Two years,” says Luke, and Emily gapes again.

“Well, belated congratulations,” she says. “I’ll have to fill out some forms, but you guys should be good to go. Thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for not freaking out,” Spencer says. “Really, thank you.”

Now that they’ve told Emily, it’s time to tell the team, and it turns out to be much more nerve wracking than Spencer expected. He just doesn’t know how his friends are going to react.

Luke gathers them into the conference room later that afternoon, so they can tell everyone at the same time, and Emily joins them even though she already knows. She gives Spencer an encouraging smile as he opens his mouth to speak.

“We have something we want to tell you,” he says. “And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you before, it’s just—”

“Oh my god, are you guys together?” squeals Penelope, a huge smile on her face. “I knew it!”

“How did you know?” Luke asks.

“Wait, she’s right?” JJ asks. Everyone starts talking at the same time, and Emily is the one to quiet them down.

“Let the boys speak,” she says loudly, and the room goes silent.

“Luke and I are a couple,” Spencer says. “We’ve been together for two years. Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.”

The whole group starts talking at the same time again, and Spencer just looks at Luke and shrugs.

“We did our part, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Luke replies. 

He takes Spencer by the hand and they walk out of the room.

#maya writes #gift fic #cm gift exchange 2022 #criminal minds fanfiction #autistic spencer reid

[bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls]

I am so thankful for you. I’ve followed you for a very long time and have never said thank you because I was too intimidated. I love seeing your posts and your girls’ dedication (I follow Blossom, she is lovely). It really brings me joy, which is comforting because I know I could never be enough to throw my hat into the ring.

When I’m scrolling, I know without having to look that the woman on my dash was posted by you, because I apparently just know your type of hot woman after so long and it makes me rub faster knowing that I’m getting to see someone that you thought was hot enough to post. It’s gross. And hot. I see women in public and my first thought is wow, I wish I could show (you, an internet stranger whose name I do not know). My second though is wow, I wish I looked like that so I could be hot enough to be worth putting up with my shortcomings. My third thought is wow, I’m very wet. And then the shame kicks in because here I am objectifying this perfectly normal woman on behalf of a man who doesn’t know I exist. And then I’m wetter.

I think the most distressing part is that I don’t even have particularly poor self-esteem. I’m fat, but I’m pretty and I’m self-aware and kind and I know some day I’ll find a man to submit to and make happy and that will bring me joy. But he will never be you. And that makes my heart hurt. And my cunt wet.

Anyway, this is my confessional. If you’ve read this far, truly, thank you.

 Oh, you’re very much welcome, Ms. Feedback Loop. Your confession has cleansed you… or made you dirtier. It’s hard to be sure.

RE: never be enough

My instinct is to tell you to keep your chin up and stop being so fatalistic… you never know what life has in store. But given the stakes, if you suspect you’re not up to snuff, you should probably respect that suspicion. I don’t want a lovely soul like you to wind up trapped in a world she never made.

RE: gross and hot

If it helps, while you’re rubbing yourself to Emma here —and we both know your fingers twitched when you scrolled down here— pause for a moment to consider that I’m quite proud of what you’ve done to yourself in my name.

Good girl.

Now get back to rubbing.

RE: he will never be you

No, he won’t. Doesn’t mean he can’t be a great guy who ticks a lot of boxes and keeps you satisfied. Doesn’t mean he can’t be an amazing life partner who nurtures all the best in you.

But he won’t be exactly right, will he?

That’s okay. The truth is just between us.

#asks

[rabidragerant6]

My First Love, I Apologize

We were just kids. And I think that is what hurts the most. I didn’t know what I was doing. Those compliments became rude comments because I was angry. I was angry that I was holding back my feelings to satisfy the ones that gave me this life. I was angry because I fell in love with you and I felt like I was suffocating in nothing but disappointment. From everyone, but mostly you. Because you were the one I should have put first.

You fell right into my arms for me to then show you how hurtful and destructive I could be. I was. I was so consumed by fear. You are right. However, I was not embarrassed of us.. I just wasn’t strong enough to withstand the judgment of every mind. The looks and whispers that echoed in every direction. I didn’t like that kind of attention.

I loved us.

After a few months of being in a dark place I had to let you free. I did it in the worst way possible. I remember. You cried and pleaded for something, anything. I gave you nothing. A smile, a single movement, two words that would have solved all of our problems. I’m bisexual. And I’m proud of it.

But instead I hid in fear of judgment. I sat quiet and let you feel alone. I let you go to bed wondering if you were good enough. I let you think that I didn’t love you. I let you think that I didn’t care.. when I cared so much, just not about my own damn future. I did. And I regret it.

My life would have turned out completely different if I had the courage and the belief in myself to say that I loved a girl. A girl that is beautiful, kind, courageous, loyal, humble and resilient. A girl that would do anything to keep the peace, a girl that thinks about everybody else but herself. A girl that sacrificed so much time to deal with a monster like me. A girl that is so incredibly wicked smart but still gave me everything, she still chose to believe in me. A girl whose jokes were too serious but still made me laugh. A girl that stood proud in herself but held back so much just to have me love her half way.

You deserved so much more. You DO deserve so much more.

There was a time when I sang man in the mirror with so much joy. There was a time when stoplights where the highlight of my night. There was a time when movie theaters/drive ins felt magical. There was a time when I looked forward to sending/receiving those long sweet notes. There was a time when I should have made the tough choices because no matter what, I had you at the end of the day. And now all I have are these memories of a time when I was truly happy to be myself.

I guess never live for other people. Never feel that you are indebted to something else. Never be afraid of the endless possibilities of what your insecurities can blossom into. You are UNSTOPPABLE if you let yourself.

To my first love, I apologize. For everything I have caused you. For the emotional distance. For the physical disconnection. For the mental distress. For the pain I have committed. You gave me your heart. Only for me to shut you out and push you away.

To my first love, I let you walk away without ever truly telling you how I feel.

#brokenlove #bisexual #girlslovegirls #theonethatgotaway #doomed from the start

[spectralquartzafterdark]

Three way between Rosie , Bee and Jules?? Maybe human or bot Jules 👀👀👀 or even better Starscream getting his three way 🥹

I can do some Jeweltone and Rosie Content! Have Fun. TW: Light Bondage, Knotting, Breeding Kink, Petplay, Over Stimulation. and there's a mirror involved.

“Man, frag your parents. I don’t know why they give you such a hard time.” Jeweltone spoke through the radio as they pulled into the garage.

“Because, I’m not falling for their manipulation. That’s why. I should be able to say I’m taken without question.” Rosie groaned as she rested her head on the steering wheel, “Fuck the holidays.”

Rosie looked at the time and sighed as she stepped out of the purple ‘69 mustang. She adjusted her dress and sighed as her mech companion transformed. She heard Jeweltone get situated on the garage floor and turned to them. It was clear the visit to her parents caused her more distress than she let on.

“Come here. I don’t think they’re worth the Energon anymore. We don’t have to visit unless it’s life or death okay?” They said as their optics looked at their human companion, “And I encourage you to say no from here on out.”

“Yea…” she said as she walked over to Jeweltone who scooped her up into their servos, “Just it’s hard. Living out here family is all you have. Blood or chosen and I don’t have much of either…”

“Trust me, I know all about that. Giant Robot.” they chuckled as they pulled her against their chassis, “But, your boundaries and mental health mean more than anything okay?”

Rosie nodded in defeat and just sighed as she let Jeweltone keep her close for the moment. She could feel her phone buzz in the pocket of her dress, but she didn’t care. She was done with today, in fact she quit. Whatever happened would happen and she wasn’t emotionally attached to the outcome.

Jeweltone’s fuel pump was pounding, they knew what they wanted to ask… but knew that this moment might not be the right time. All they wanted to do was spoil her. They reminisced about what their plans were going to be when they had returned home. A buzz vibrated in their circuits for a moment. That wasn’t important, right now just being here was. That didn’t stop the inevitable loop their circuits was trying to throw them into. Rosie’s body being so close, so warm, so soft had only made matters worse. When she pressed back into them their engine revved.

“Oh, my Primus I’m so sorry.” they exclaimed, “I didn’t scare you did I?”

Rosie just stared at them for a moment before she laughed, “No, I’m fine. But, what has you so worked up?”

“I was… uh…” Their optics looked to the side in embarrassment as they clenched their dentae, “Thinking about what our plans had been if things went well.”

“What made you think those were canceled?” She quirked a brow shifting to face them, “Hm?”

“Ah… well…” She was so close, and their bipedal cord felt hot, “The stress of that interaction would’ve turned me off from any premade plans.”

Jeweltone watched as Rosie rubbed her head for a moment. Had they said something wrong? They felt her shift out of their grasp and watched intently. She made sure the garage doors were locked. Windows closed and blocked out. Her steps were quick – what on earth was she planning to do? Then they watched as she pulled out a small tool kit. It seemed run down and had some stickers on it. Their optics scanned it and it was then everything clicked into place.

“Unless I directly say it’s off the table… assume the plans are still valid Jeweltone.” she smiled, “And after that fiasco. Honestly, I think I want the attention. We could go as far as you’d like tonight too. With your real body, not that Holoform. It’s not as… mmm.”

“Satisfying, heh. I agree. But, are you sure?” They asked.

“Yes, just I think I need the mental reset. I’m not feeling great about myself right now.” she admitted.

“I can fix that.” they scooped her up again and kissed her gently, “And I may not need to mass shift my entire body~” they felt her body shudder, of course she’d have a size kink.

Jeweltone shifted in the berth if one could call it that. Both parties had fooled around before, but it hadn’t quite gotten past digit and glossa play. Jeweltone had been too worried about hurting their partner. And the holoform was a mess. They couldn’t hold concentration during interfacing. This would be their first time beyond foreplay. But, they had something special in mind. If her self esteem was that low they knew a way to break it and fast. Just thinking about it made their spike strain against their panels.

Jeweltone was slow to work her up. Idly kissing her and letting their large servos roam that soft body of hers. Their favorite part had to be those ungodly soft inner thighs. One day they’d ask to just use them, but, for now they had other plans. They could hear her soft moans. They ran two of their digits between her legs and felt how soaked her panties already were. When she said she wanted attention she wasn’t joking clearly.

“How much do you want this?” they asked.

“You have no idea. Thinking about this is probably why I stayed sane.” she moaned softly as she rutted against their digits.

“Good, just… let me take care of you okay? You do enough for me. And I’m not having another incident.” Jeweltone purred, “Now, go ahead and take off your clothes.”

They set her down and went to the wall across from them and pulled out a mirror that Rosie hadn’t quite yet put up. They were going to make her see how beautiful she was. They grabbed the small tool box and went back to the berth. The garage was small, but thankfully it was going to work in their favor.

“Jeweltone, what’s the mirror for?” Rosie asked cautiously.

“You’ll see.” They said carefully holding her hands and doing a small twirl, had she really been wearing that lingerie set all day? “So, that’s why your routine took 3 hours today.”

“Mmmm not like you complain.” she teased.

“Never. Pull out what you need from the kit. We’ll set it on the shelf. It’ll be easier to grab.” They said.

Rosie nodded knowing that meant Jeweltone was serious about this particular session. Jeweltone watched her trying to have the courage to let their spike out from behind their panels. When they noticed her fiddling with something any bashfulness went away. Their panel retracted in full, they knew what she was up to. They admired all her soft curves and how the lace and bands moved across her frame. It was unfair really, how they couldn’t just bury themself in between all of those soft crevices. Though they were broken out of their thoughts as their eyes wandered up and noted that she had gone a little above and beyond of what they expected. Nipple chain perfect for tugging and a little collar? That was cute.

“Perfect.” was all they said before they scooped her up into their servos again.

Positioning was the issue now. Figuring out how to hold her in such a way that her body was completely visible in the mirror. Eventually they found the perfect spot. Immediately, they felt her fuel pump start pounding. They chuckled and pressed a kiss to her face panel.

“You’ve bamboozled yourself going beyond what I expect.” they tease, “Look at you~”

“L-listen I…” she yelped as they were shifted once more.

“Oh, this is going to be fun sweetspark. And now I don’t have to be human sized to play with these.” they tugged at the chain, “Frag, imagine is one was hooked to your Spike Node.”

“F-frag.” she moaned, “D-don’t tease too much.”

“I won’t.” they tugged again and groaned at the sight, “Now, I want you to watch yourself. Understood?”

“Yes.” she said, she knew what they were up to, but knew arguing wouldn’t do a bit of good in this situation.

“Good, I will make sure you physically see how beautiful you are and how you make me feel.” they managed to win the fight against a tiny tube and applied some sensitizer to her node.

It was perhaps a bit too much, but they would use it to their advantaged as they slowly rubbed it in and around her valve. They watched in the mirror as her node finally came to attention, she really was shy tonight. Usually, it didn’t take this long.

“Look at that. Your valve’s already dripping for me and your spike node is at full attention just from applying that sensitizer.” they boasted as their servos spread her just slightly to show off the lubricant, “Mmm, but truthfully I was straining against my panel for you a few hours ago. Watching you set a boundary and protect it mmm… this? Is only a bonus~”

They took her node between their fingers and squeezed. A small yelp of pleasure escaped her chest as Jeweltone began to stroke it up and down. At one point she tried to look away, but they were able to keep her focus on the mirror. They moved their digits over her frame complimenting each soft part of her. Each scar. Each section of stretch marks. All while playing with her node. They could feel it twitching between their fingers and quickly pulled away.

They couldn’t let her overload just yet. They turned her head and kissed her for a moment of reprieve. Only to move to tug on that chain again with their free servo. They nipped at her and she did the same in turn. It was clumsy and sweet, but they could feel her body melting into their touch. Jeweltone pulled away and moved her face to look at the mirror again.

“Now, whose the most beautiful human I know?” they asked.

“Me.” she managed to breath.

“Good, and who do I love?” They asked again.

“Me.” she chuckled and smiled.

“Good, don’t forget that ever. My conjunx. Mine.” they kissed her face again digits looming over her dripping valve before one dipped into her.

It was a tight fit at first. It seemed she had tensed up, but Jeweltone took that as a hint they should have warned her. As their digit moved in and out of her it didn’t take long for the other to slip in naturally. They smirked at their work admiring the scene in-front of them. The mirror was a good idea. They’d have to do this more often. Though admittedly their Spike was starting to ache and getting harder to ignore.

“Frag, please… I need your Spike.” she whined.

“Just a little more. I want to make sure you can take it without a problem.” they assured her.

“A-alright. Just, fuck I want to be full of you already.” she sighed softly another moan escaped her as Jeweltone played with the chain.

“I know. And I’m going to make sure you’re so stuffed that you’ll be worried about being pregnant.” they teased.

“Mmm sure about that? That’s an awfully big promise.” she cooed.

“I’m sure.” Their fingers dug further into her and caused her back to arch and hips pressed onto their fingers more.

Jeweltone kept their digits burried in her fragging her until she came close to another overload and quickly pulled away. They shifted their position and rubbed their spike against her valve and node. They made sure to cause as much friction as possible wanting to see her face in the mirror. Their spike luminated as they slowly slipped inside. They moaned as they felt how soft she was. No wonder Mirage liked humans so much. They were so soft and warm. They took a moment to pulled out and used the fluid from their poor ignored valve to lubricate themself. They once again thrusted into her with far more ease.

“Primus, look at you. I bottomed out without an issue. Frag.” they said as they placed a servo around her waist and watched their light ever so slightly come through her flesh.

“I-i told you I could take it ages ago.” her voice was cracking and breaking. It was almost song like as her hips moved and tried to take more of their partner.

“Mmm, no.” the held her still, “I’m taking care of you remember. Let me do the work.”

“F-frag okay.” she whined. She wanted to move so badly, “Please, move? It feels so good already.”

“As you wish.” they smirked.

Jeweltone wasn’t inexperienced. With humans maybe, but other bots. Not so much. And humans weren’t that different so they knew how to angle themself. Once they found that perfect spot they went to work. Struts thrusted into their partner like their life depended on it. They watched as her body rippled and moved, fuel pump almost vibrating at the sight. Their servos moved to keep her steady as the other pulled on that delicious chain. Though at this position it wasn’t the most practical and they had to chose where to put their energy. They let go of it and opted for something a little closer. Her node that had been twitching for some time. They took it between their digits and let their rhythm take care of any motion that was needed.

Their systems were starting to over heat. The room was starting to get hotter and they could see the sweat that beaded up on Rosie. It made her glisten like a jewel. It made them want to see her overload even more.

“Come on, cum for me.” they moaned into her ear, “Show much how much you want this.”

“Mmm… trying please a little rougher.” she asked softly clearly struggling with her body.

Jeweltone knew what had to be done. They bent them both over ever so slightly their body almost overshadowing theirs, but still visible in the mirror. If they had been any bigger she’d be their personal cocksleeve. With this position brought a new development. A slight bulge could be seen in Rosie. Jeweltone almost rolled their optics at that delicious sight. They took a moment to regain themselves before they picked up pace again. Her body felt so good against theirs it was driving them wild. Their engine revved louder and louder and caused their vibration mod to kick in. And that was all it took for her to break.

“F-frag I’m gonna!!” her last soft squeak before her body gave into Jeweltones demand.

She overloaded. Hard. She could barely think straight from how strong it was. Her body was squeezing Jeweltone’s spike so tightly that they felt their other mod kick in. After two more thrusts they could no longer pull from her valve as they overloaded. Their voice box distorting as they cried out her name. They could only manage soft I love yous as both parties came down from their high. Jeweltone had to carefully sit both of them back up. They both looked in the mirror and they smirked. There was definitely a noticeable bump. They hadn’t lost their touch after all.

They kissed her gently and smiled as their systems began to cool off.

“Are you okay?” They asked.

“Mmhmm… y-you’re stuck.” she pointed out.

“Y-yea… sorry about that. Usually I can control that mod… but -”

“Don’t worry about it. It feels really good.” she admitted, node still twitching.

“Mmm greedy little thing I don’t think your body is done.” They smirked.

They couldn’t do much else until their knot mod reconfigured itself. So, they decided to see if they could coax out one more overload from Rosie. They rubbed her node in circles, pinching and working it much like before. Hearing her whines. She was oversensitive right now. But, her poor node was so swollen they couldn’t jut ignore it. So, they kept it up idly. Carefully playing with it until finally they felt her fall back into their chassis crying out literal tears of pleasure as she overloaded again. Squeezing their spike much harder and longer. Over and over. Almost like a chain.

“F-frag, Jeweltone!” She pushed against their hand, “T-too much gonna FRAG.” she sobbed as she overloaded again enough to push Jeweltone’s spike from her body with a pop.

“Primus, I didn’t know you could do that. Frag… I want to set aside a full day now. Just to tease you.” They admitted as their spike finally depressurized and they retracted it back into their panel.

“Mmm… later…” she sobbed softly taking off the nipple clamps and chain and throwing them to the side. She clearly wasn’t going to risk another round.

Jeweltone smirked seeing their transfluid dripping from her valve. They took a few digits and shoved as much as they could back into her. Rosie giggled and looked to them via the mirror.

“What was I upset about earlier?” She asked.

“Absolutely nothing.” Jeweltone laughed and held her closer, “But now… I think we both need baths.”

#valveplug #original characters #human x cybertronian #human x bot #rosie writes

[eddisfargo]

Not a day will go by (10/?)

OK, confession: I've had this one mostly-finished for a couple weeks. Nervous about it! Finally earning the M-rating, although it definitely goes nowhere near E. Not a thing I've done before, so your patience is appreciated! I'm really hoping I can finish the fic this month! Wish me luck! Thanks as always to @motherkatereloyshipper for her EXCEPTIONAL beta-ing, and for this BEAUTIFUL cover I just edited in! If you find any errors, they were probably my last-minute pre-post edits!

Tagging: @resident-of-storybrooke @everything-person, @teamhook

AO3 Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10

Summary: Hook gets a chance to get to know his wife.

“Henry?” Emma called, immediately after walking through the door.

There was no response. 

She took an object out of her pocket – one he’d seen several times now – and looked at it. 

“He’s staying over at Regina’s for the day,” she said, sounding a little disappointed. She walked over to the couch and dropped herself unceremoniously onto it, throwing her head back over the top. 

Hook decided he wanted to know what she was holding. From recent experience, he thought if he asked, she’d explain it to him. With this in mind, he sat down next to her and asked, “Are you alright?” 

If she was as surprised as he was by his own question, she didn’t show it. 

“I’m OK,” she said. “Just… I don’t know, it’s all catching up with me, you know? Usually when there’s a crisis, it’s the two of us against the problem, and this time it’s like…” 

“I am the problem,” he finished for her. 

She looked distressed. “That’s not what I was –” She sighed. “I wouldn’t put it like that . It’s just like… On a really stressful day, I usually get a massage from my husband.” 

He looked at her askance, and held up his hook. “I’m not much for massages these days, I’m afraid,” he said flatly. 

She snorted. “Oh, excuse me. I must’ve been confusing you with my other husband. Babe, you usually take the hook off.” 

He didn’t really see how that solved the problem. A one-handed massage didn’t seem as if it would be especially satisfying. But he couldn’t deny that he was curious, so he removed the hook from his brace. 

“This too,” she said, tapping the brace. He stiffened. Both at the casual way she’d touched his brace, and at the idea of removing it. It wasn’t as if it was a first – he’d woken up next to her on that first day without it. Still, it felt peculiarly… vulnerable. And he still couldn’t see what difference it made. He’d only be using his right hand. 

Emma seemed to belatedly notice his hesitation, and her face fell a bit. Well, enough of that. He took the brace off. He moved his hand toward his newly-freed arm, both to soothe it and, if he was honest, to hide it from view. Before he could, however, two more hands were there, much softer than his own, caressing his skin where the brace had left a mark. 

He froze, barely breathing. 

No one but himself had touched the stump of his arm since the ship’s doctor after he’d lost the hand. This felt far more intimate than anything he’d done with her in bed. A sound must have escaped him, because her hands stopped moving. 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! I should have asked. I just – usually when you first take it off, you like when… It was kind of reflexive. But I guess we’re not… there yet.” She cursed mildly. “I’m sorry,” she said, removing her hands and holding them up, as if in supplication. 

He’d wanted her to stop, he’d thought, but when she did, it felt like a loss. What she’d been doing had felt… good . She looked so chagrined that he tried to remember just what sound he’d made. He was afraid it had communicated more shock than he’d intended to let on. “That’s alright,” he said finally. “I was just… surprised.” He swallowed once and tried to regain control of the situation. “Anyway, I thought you were the one who was supposed to be getting a massage.” He gave her his best attempt at a roguish grin, as if he had any confidence in his ability to do so. 

She smiled back warmly. “Okay, so you’ve definitely perfected this over time, but you do this thing where – with your hand, you kind of…” she demonstrated on his shoulder, squeezing  and kneading in a way that did feel quite pleasant, and that he felt fairly capable of doing. 

But she wasn’t finished. “And with your other arm, you kind of umm… tap, I guess?” With his arm ? She couldn’t mean that he touched her with his stump. But she continued as if she’d said nothing out of the ordinary.  “Kind of a medium pressure. Like this–” she tried to tap on his back with the heel of her hand, exerting just a bit of force. She sighed. “Well, I can’t quite do it, because I have a hand in the way, but that’s the gist,” she finished with a shrug. 

I can’t quite do it, because I have a hand in the way.  

The phrase reverberated in his head. He tried to remember a time when someone had told him he was capable of something they weren’t because of his lack of a hand. Certainly, the hook was a useful tool. With it he could, pick locks, or stab someone, or grip a rope, or gut someone. But for the most part, it was only a poor substitute for what he had lost. What was left of his body wasn’t something anyone had ever appreciated, for its own sake. The thought made him almost dizzy. 

With a new determination, he pushed aside his initial hesitance and resolved to give this woman the best bloody massage she’d ever had. 

He turned her around on the couch so she was facing the side, and seated himself behind her. Starting with his hand, he began to knead the tense muscles of her neck and back. She released what seemed to be all the air in her body in a sigh. Feeling daring, he dipped his hand under the neck of her shirt and continued his work. Far from protesting, she added more voice to her sigh, making it almost a moan. 

Her reactions made him brave enough to try what she’d suggested. With the stump of his left arm, he tapped gently on her back. 

“Harder,” she breathed. And he found his body responding. But no, this wasn’t about that. Not now. Instead of giving in to his baser urges, he obliged, spreading small taps across her back, careful not to hurt her, but trying to apply the pressure she needed. He leaned her forward so she was lying on her front, her head on the armrest, and slipped to the floor to kneel by the couch. As he continued his ministrations, she melted into the cushions, the tension leaving her body. 

She sighed his name into the pillow, and he could no longer resist. He leaned forward, pulling her hair aside, and placed his lips against the back of her neck. She shivered, and he moved his lips down and down until the fabric of her shirt stopped him. 

With a groan, Emma started to sit up, and Killian quickly moved aside. He wondered if he’d overstepped – he’d certainly thought she’d been enjoying herself, but perhaps he lacked the context of their relationship – but before he could finish the thought, her shirt was off and her lips were on his. 

His hand and arm roved over her, getting to know every inch of her as he hadn’t taken the time to before. She was wearing that strange undergarment he’d seen on her before;, Uuntil she reached behind herself, and then she wasn’t. 

“Bedroom,” she whispered urgently in his ear, and he hastened to oblige. 

___________________

That was … a number of words floated through his head as they panted in the afterglow. From the merely factual, such as fantastic to ridiculous words he instantly drove from his mind, like life-altering . He finally settled on “different.” That was true enough. 

He had had her body more than once within memory, and likely countless times outside of it. But this time, their kisses had had an urgency verging on desperation. Well, hers had, at least. Surely he hadn’t entirely reciprocated. He tried not to relive the details, just in case. Still, moments kept returning to his mind. The way her eyes had lingered on his, trying to tell him something he simply wasn’t ready to hear. The way she hadn’t used the word, that word he knew was the key to his salvation – she’d just repeated his name, and somehow it had sounded like the same thing. 

As if regaining his senses, he suddenly realized they were still lying entwined. This wouldn’t do. He had to move, lest she get… ideas. Yes, he would pull himself from her arms. 

Momentarily.

“Killian?” she whispered, before he’d quite managed it. 

His heart beat a bit faster, uncertain what she’d want of him. “Aye, Swan?” 

Her wide eyes looked into his and she kissed him soundly, which was something he probably ought to put a stop to. This had already gone too far. He would pull away, he decided.

She pulled away first after a second. To his horror, her eyes were full of tears. She buried her face in his chest and whispered, “I was so scared.” 

His arms went around her of their own accord. “Scared of… what, exactly?”

“That I wouldn’t get you back! That our love wasn’t… strong enough.” She gave a watery laugh. “It seems stupid now.” 

“Why?” 

There was a moment’s pause. “Why what?”  She pulled her head away from his chest to look at him. “Killian?” she asked again, her voice much smaller. 

He finally managed to extricate herself from her embrace, though the relief he’d expected to feel was notably absent. 

She looked oddly lost. “It didn’t work, did it?” she said quietly. 

He raised an eyebrow. Everything had seemed quite in working order to him. 

“You still don’t have your memories.” 

He hated the way she was looking at him. After what they’d just shared, he’d have expected her to be, at the very least, satisfied. What right did she have to look so disappointed? “What on earth made you think I did?” he said, his voice coming out harsher than he’d intended. 

She flinched, which only darkened his mood further. “It’s just…” she said, biting her lip. “You called me Swan .” 

“That’s your name, isn’t it? Emma Swan? That’s what Smee called you, although if we’re married one would expect –” 

“I kept my last name,” she said flatly. “That’s a thing they let women do, around here.” She sighed. “But it’s the first time you’ve called me that since you lost your memory.” She sank back against the pillows, pulling the blankets up to her neck. “I just thought…” 

Hook frowned. Why had he called her that? It had just felt like the natural thing to call her. The name seemed to fit her somehow. Could it mean something? Emma’s mother had said his memory might come back with True Love’s Kiss, but it hadn’t yet. Well, of course it hadn’t. What he felt for her wasn’t True Love . It was… attraction, nothing more. 

He stood from the bed, searching for whatever had become of his clothes. 

“No cuddling then, huh?” Emma said from the bed, sounding disappointed but not particularly surprised. 

Hook scoffed. “I’m not much of a cuddler. ” 

“Now I know that’s not true. I happen to know that you’re an excellent cuddler.” She was making a brave attempt at a smile, as if she could lighten the mood. 

“I was speaking of inclination, not skill. I don’t cuddle.” 

“Oh no!” Emma said, sounding concerned. “It’s getting worse! Now your memory doesn’t even extend back five minutes?”

He looked up at her sharply to find that she was teasing him. He didn’t respond because he chose not to, not because he couldn’t think of one. 

She propped herself up on one arm, watching him get dressed. “You didn’t cuddle with Milah?” 

Well, that was rather a personal question. But he supposed she thought her wedding ring entitled her to ask personal questions. 

“Milah had spent the better part of her youth stuck in a too-small bed with a man she’d grown to despise,” he spat. “She liked her freedom.” 

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Sounds to me like Milah wasn’t a cuddler.” 

Hook took a few moments to get control of his temper before he said something he’d regret. “I thought you knew everything about my past. Have we never had this conversation?” 

Emma pushed the covers off of herself and stood, standing unabashedly as she got a towel from the bedroom closet. She looked over her shoulder at him, catching him staring. “We have,” she said simply. 

Outrage filled him. He pulled his clothes back on without a word. 

When she turned back to the closet, she let out a small laugh. He refused to ask what had amused her, and after a moment she told him anyway. 

“The missing Krissmus presence. They’re right where we left them.” 

That got Hook’s attention. He looked over her shoulder to see boxes near the top of the closet with names written on them. Some of them said Killian . He had a sudden realization. 

Presents . 

Emma was shaking her head. “This was the first place I checked, but you seemed so distressed that I really thought you might have others stashed away somewhere. It just occurred to me that nothing was ever missing. Except your memories.” 

He stepped up behind her. Some of the presents were wrapped. One of the boxes had a bearded man in red saying “Ho ho ho!” Another had the words “Merry Christmas” repeated in a pattern. 

Christmas. 

The Christmas presents . 

One of the unwrapped boxes had his name on it. He reached toward it. Emma slapped his hand away. 

“Hey! I’m hiding these from the kid, not from you. You , I trust not to peek.” 

She looked at the box miserably. “I was really hoping… you’d have your memory back by Christmas.” With a visible effort, she smiled. “Well, there’s still four days. If you’re not you again by then, I might… wait on the present.” 

He looked over to the bedside, where the beautifully carved hook case sat. He had a suspicion that that had been a previous present. He decided that he wanted this year’s. “Why?” he said, with bit of petulance. “I don’t deserve a present as I am?” 

She laughed, but the amusement didn’t reach her eyes. “I just don’t think you’ll be able to appreciate this one without context.” 

Bloody context . He never seemed to have enough of it. 

As he pondered, she’d finished getting dressed. “Hungry?” she asked. 

He had, he found, worked up quite an appetite. Especially after that witch had interrupted his breakfast. 

Apparently, cooking in this realm consisted mostly of taking a box out of a larger box–which Emma informed him, at his request, was the fridge –and sticking into yet another box. Then, one simply sat and tried to avoid one’s wife’s repeated attempts at conversation until the smaller box chirped, at which time a cold meal had become a hot meal. The resultant meal didn’t resemble anything in particular that he could identify. Still, whatever it was supposed to be wasn’t bad, although it tasted as if it contained a fortune’s worth of salt. 

They ate mostly in silence, Emma seeming to have largely given up on coaxing him into speech, and finished around the same time. 

“Look,” Emma said finally. “I’ve got to stop at the station. Are you going to be OK?” 

“I’ll be fine,” he said flatly. He had a few plans for the rest of the day that didn’t require any supervision . 

They walked downstairs together, and she handed him a keyring. It had a small pendant with a drawing of a man with long black hair, a pointed mustache, and a ridiculous red hat with a large purple feather. He had a comically malicious expression and was holding a hook up next to his face. “Don’t forget these this time, OK?” 

He pulled his eyes away from the pendant and took the keys. 

They both exited the house and walked in different directions. 

Hook waited for Emma to get into her yellow bugcar– turning to wave goodbye as she left– and pass out of sight, then he doubled back. Sure enough, one of the keys on the keyring unlocked the door. He slipped back inside and up the stairs, quickly finding the unwrapped box with his name. It didn’t seem big enough to be worth the secrecy. 

You, I trust not to peek , she’d said. More fool she. It was as if she had forgotten that he was a pirate . 

He opened the box with more anticipation than he could justify, to find… that Emma had been right. 

He needed more context. 

It was an item from this realm whose use he could not divine. Perhaps it was like the thing from her pocket that Emma had looked at before announcing that Henry would be out that day. 

Carefully, he closed the box and replaced it precisely as he had found it. He slipped out of the house and went to find Smee. 

#Captain Swan #Killian Jones #Emma Swan #OUaT #Once Upon a Time #Not a day will go by

[do-u-ever-just]

WEEKLY WIP

Something I've been working on in between Drum Sticks and Rose Quartz and a different, bigger project. I think a lot about how Naruto was so alone as a kid, and how a lot of filler episodes in the anime drill this home. And how different his life is now that he's the village's hero, hokage and a doting father.

Tags: SasuNaru, Boruto era but canon divergent, Naruto growing up, feat. original character

Naruto didn't have a lot of money growing up. A monthly stipend given to him by Hiruzen, and probably out of the old man’s own pocket.  It was never enough, but even when he complained, he didn't get any more.  Sometimes even less.  

He remembers having only a few ryo left, and despite knowing the prices by heart, had tottered out to the vending machines to see if maybe, magically, the prices had become cheaper and he could afford a snack.  Maybe even a cup of instant ramen.  His last hot meal had been three days ago; it would be another week before his next.

He stared forlornly at the crisp packets and the bottles of ramune and the strawberry milk.  He stared at the curry ramen, the seafood ramen, the hot, hot ramen.  His stomach hurt.

Tomorrow, he'd have to start stealing from the village vendors. They'd throw stones at him for it.  Maybe, if he was lucky, they'd throw fruit.  If he was even luckier, the fruit wouldn't be bruised or moldy.

His last 3 ryo crunches in his tiny fist.

-

Sasaki tugs on Naruto’s trousers.  Naruto picks up his head from his desk, and looks at his son.  It's getting late.  They'll have to go home soon; Sasaki shouldn't be hanging around his office at night like this.  It's not his fault their teacher got sick and cut the school day short.  Sasuke is away again, and with Sasaki still too young to know the way home, he had made for the Hokage mansion instead.

Everyone in the office knows to let any Uchiha through to Naruto no matter what.  But Naruto had felt guilty being unable to entertain Sasaki all afternoon.

Sasaki looks up at him with big, dark eyes now.

“Papa, I’m hungry.”

Naruto looks at the time.  It’s almost six.  Everyone else in the office has gone home.  Boruto will be heading back from training too.  

Naruto stretches his arms above his head, heaving a satisfied sigh when his shoulders pop.

“It’s definitely that time, isn’t it?” Naruto says.  Sasaki holds fast to his pant leg.  “Let’s get a snack on the way home.”

Sasaki nods.

They stop by the vending machines.  Those same vending machines.  Naruto fishes a few ryo out of his wallet.  

“Which one do you want?” Naruto asks.  He has his eye on a giant chocolate chip cookie for himself.  

Sasaki remains silent.  His brows pinch.  An expression of concentration takes over his face, too heavy for a four year old.

“I can't decide,” he finally admits.  Naruto chuckles.  “The shrimp chips? No!  The strawberry milk with the funny cow.  Wait! Umm-”

Sasaki looks genuinely distressed over the amount of choices.

Naruto looks to the array of snacks again.  He looks to his wallet.  He slides a few coins in and presses the button for the milk with the picture of the funny cow.  Sasaki makes a noise of protest, before he watches as Naruto slides in a few more coins and chooses the packet of shrimp chips beside it.

“Let’s take both!” Naruto announces.  He crouches beside his son and takes the food out of the slot.  Sasaki takes them carefully, like maybe he's not allowed such spoils.  “We should get something for Boruto too.”

Naruto chooses a packet of hard candy that turns their tongues blue.

“And for papa!” Sasaki says.

“Right!” Naruto is out of change, so shoves a note into the slot and picks a can of soda for himself, but just to cover all his bases- “Will papa like the salt and vinegar chips?” He asks Sasaki.

Sasaki, little arms ladened with more snacks than he’s ever seen, jumps for joy while Naruto retrieves the chips for Sasuke.  But at this point, “We may as well just take one of everything!”

Naruto has spent more money than he should, and he has to make a makeshift sack with his hokage coat to carry the rest of the snacks.  Sasaki grips his milk and shrimp chips tight in one arm, the other holding Naruto’s fingers in his tiny fist, as they make their way home.

#sasunaru #sns #uzumaki naruto #uchiha sasuke #seb writes #naruto fanfiction #just a lot of comfort getting to write these kinds of juxtopositions #also fun to tell canon to shut up and make it my bitch