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samandcolbyownme · 1 month

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can i request a fluffy johnnie fic, just like how he would show his gf who is also a youtuber in videos! kinda like the jake fic 'as i suspected'!

thank you and i love your fics <33

Warnings: fluff, swearing, kissing

As I Suspected | Jake Webber

Enjoy!

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You’re sat on Johnnie’s lap, facing him as his hands hold your hips and his lips are on your neck. You slide your hands up his check, resting them on the sides of his shoulders.

“Jake’s going to be here any minute.” You mumble, closing your eyes as you feel Johnnie’s hands slide up your shirt, “Mhm.” Johnnie looks up at you, his voice in a soft whisper, “You know he’s always late because he forgot something at home.”

You laugh slightly, nodding as you lean in to press your lips to his. Johnnie gives your hips a little squeeze and pulls your body closer to his. He groans lowly as you grind down onto him, lying back as he pulls you with him.

You kiss up his neck, across his jaw and up his cheeks until you finally reach his lips. He smiles and slides a hand up your back, “Are you going to behave in today’s video?”

You nod, “uh huh.” He laughs slightly, “Somehow, I don’t believe you.” You roll your eyes, smooshing your lips back onto his. You make out for another moment or two before Jake’s voice causes your body to fly off of Johnnie’s, “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

You look at Jake then Johnnie. All three of you continue to look around at each other until one of you finally breaks the silence.

“I. Fucking. Knew it.” Jake points, “You lying little sluts.” He walks in pointing between you and Johnnie, “I asked Johnnie about this, what? Last fucking month and you said no, you were just friends.” He laughs, “I was fucking right.”

“You can’t say anything, Jake.“ you look at him and he rolls his eyes, “Do I have to pinky swear?” You laugh, holding up your pink as you nod, “Yes, sir. You do.” He huffs, looking at you with a smirk as he wraps his pinky around yours.

“Great, now that that’s over. Do you want to explain now or after the video?” Jake looks between you and Johnnie and in unison, “After.”

You’ve made it half way through the stream, and so far, Jake hasn’t said a word about what he walked in on. You’re sitting in the back and Johnnie was up front with Jake.

Every now and then, Jake would glance between you and Johnnie, teasing you subtly and it drove you nuts.

“That was really sour, holy- oh fuck.” Johnnie groans, “I hate this.” Jake picks one up and plops the whole piece of candy in his mouth. Instantly groaning and looking for someplace to spit it out at.

Johnnie holds his hand out and you stare at Johnnie as you think about how you love how caring towards Jake he is - even if it’s allowing Jake to spit his slobbered up candy in his hand.

“Fuck that..” Jake gasps, “Where did you get these?” Johnnie shrugs, “I don’t know, some website.” Jake looks at Johnnie, “What the black market? Now our tongues are gonna fall off.” Jake sticks his tongue out, gripping the end of his tongue, “I need this.”

You roll your eyes and look down as Johnnie hands one back to you, “Do you want to try one?” You shake your head, “No.” Jake whips back, “Do it.” You shake your head, “No. I seen how you guys were, I’m not doing it.”

You laugh and Johnnie nods, “No I don’t blame her. If I could go back and not do this again.” He stops and laughs and Jake joins in laughing, “Nah, you’d still fucking do it, don’t lie.”

Johnnie laughs, “That’s why I stopped.” He pulls the pack up, “I think the worst thing is the shock it gives you in your jaw, like right when you taste it.”

“No dude.” Jake groans, “That shock is soo bad..” he laughs, clearly not thinking, “Almost as bad as the shock of them I walk in on y/n a-“ he stops and lifts his head, making an surprised face as he stares into the camera.

You and Johnnie’s eyes are locked on Jake and the chat is absolutely blowing up.

User 1: FINISH THE SENTENCE JAKE

User 2: when y/n and WHO WERE WHAT

User 3: NAH BABY KEEP IT GOIN

User 4: WHO AND WHO

User 5: JOHNNIE SAVE THE DAY BABY SPILL ITTTT

User 6: WHO BAGGED Y/N!?!?!?

“Yeah, Jake.” You clear your throat, tilting your head, “you wanna..mm.. you wanna finish that sentence?” You try your best not to laugh but you fail and Jake shakes his head laughing, “I said nothing.” He points to the camera, “You all are going insane.”

“The voices are getting to us all.” Johnnie chimes in quietly and you laugh, “For the record, there is nothing to tell, Jake just likes to start drama in my life when he’s bored.” You gently smack Jake on the forehead and he yells dramatically, “Ow! Fuck, oh my god!”

Johnnie reaches over and does what you did and Jake does it back to Johnnie but a little harder, causing a loud smack! to sound through the car. You gasp, immediately laughing, “Oh my god, okay. I think..” you continue to laugh, “I think we’re done with this stream for today.”

“Gotta go guys, my mom is making me get off my game to make me play outside.” Jake says looking know the camera with a sad look, “See ya in the next one.” He waves, along with you and Johnnie, and you all say a quick, “Bye!”

“It’s eating you alive, isn’t it?” Johnnie says as Jake ends the streak and Jake glares up at him, “How did you guys even..” he laughs, “No one suspected anything.”

You shrug, leaning forward, “I guess Johnnie and I are just that good.” You look over at him and he purses his lips. You lean in and press your lips to his and Jake fake gags, “Get a room, you two. Please. I already saw you do it once, I don’t need to see it again.”

You laugh, leaning back and Johnnie reaches his hand back to, lay it on your knee. You lay your hand on his, smiling as you trace his tattoos.

Jake lets out a gasp and fumbles his phone before clutching it to his chest, hand slapped on his mouth.

Johnnie looks over at Jake, “What did you do?” You lean up and Jake laughs into his hand loudly, “Uuuumm.” He drags out slowly, “I really thought I ended the stream it when we all say bye, but it must have not registered because we..” he scratches his head as he tries not to laugh, “we were still streaming.. this entire time..”

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Hello, thank you for reading! Let me know how you liked it and as always, I love yas! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #snippet #snippets #Johnnie Guilbert #johnnie guilbert one shots #johnnie guilbert x you #Johnnie Guilbert fluff #Johnnie Guilbert fluff one shot #fluff #fluff one shots #one shot fluff #fluff one shot #fluffy one shot #fluff Johnnie Guilbert #fluff oneshot #fluffy #johnnie guilbert x reader #Johnnie Guilbert x y/n

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wikiangela · 3 months

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fuck it friday

tagged by @hippolotamus @fortheloveofbuddie 💖

so I started a new wip lol 🙈 I really need to work on all the other ones but I'll get to everything haha so i'm not sure if any of this makes sense for buck tbh but idgaf, this is just me projecting my own thoughts and feelings™️ and making it about him processing his death lol 💁 it is gonna be pre-slash buddie tho bc obviously I have to 😂

ngl i kinda don't wanna share any of it but also i wanna share all of it bc i'm kinda loving how it's turning out haha so fuck it, here are two short snippets haha

___

Ever since he died, Buck has been feeling… off. Numb. Sad. Exhausted. He’s not even sure how to explain it, how to voice it, so he doesn’t. When people ask how he is, he says he’s fine. And he is, he swears he is. He’s okay, he’s alive, he has his amazing friends and family, a job he loves, everything is fine. But… but. He’s not sure what the hell is wrong, but a part of him is not fine. Hasn’t been fine since the lightning strike.

(...)

He doesn’t want to go home. He just wants to keep driving, wherever the road takes him. Driving is good, he likes driving, letting his thoughts wander, listening to music, having control of something. He thinks that’s it, that’s why. Driving is one of the few times he feels fully in control, his feet controlling the speed, hands holding the steering wheel and dictating the direction. Whether he makes it to work or gives into the thoughts that tell him to not turn the wheel and let his car crash into a tree or a building, or another car – it’s all up to him. He doesn’t- he won’t crash his car on purpose, but sometimes he wonders… maybe at least that’ll make him feel something. Make him hurt, make him scared, anything. Make him die, this time permanently- he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t, he swears he doesn’t. He just wonders sometimes, that’s all.

He doesn’t wanna go home, so he decides to keep driving. Just a few more minutes, to clear his head.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @hoodie-buck @diazsdimples @theotherbuckley @nmcggg @daffi-990 @jesuisici33 @disasterbuckdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess

#fuck it friday #someone take angst away from me - a few months ago I was all about fluffy fluff wtf happened lol #btw this is gonna be lots of buck driving and thinking lol #bc every day on my way to and from work im like: what if i didnt take that exit on the highway and just kept driving and driving and drivin #so yeah lol #im fine tho #buddie wip #buddie fic #buddie #wikiangela writes #my writing #fic snippet #my wips #buck driving fic #<- i guess for now this is the tag lol

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fluffypotatey · 23 days

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so, found out neither my brother or my mom knew about this song :( hoping this site won’t steer me wrong

#polls #fluffy poll #so while my mom hadn’t heard the FULL song she did know snippets #which is way more than i could say about my brother #who thought i was making this up #anyway #i showed them the song dw

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 6 months

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hi. here's a little over 5k words for the modern human au! entirely unedited, as usual! you'd think this is a full oneshot... ha... no... i actually have some warnings for this one - hospitals, panic attacks, major character injury / discussion of death / clinical description of injury.

in short, my writing comfort zone <3

The dial tone plays, and Barnaby looks down at his phone. Call ended stares back at him under Wally’s cheerful profile picture.

“He hung up on me,” Barnaby states. His lips twist and he tosses the phone onto the couch with a snarl of, “That little bastard.”

“Hey now,” Howdy says sharply, frowning at him. “That’s our friend you’re talking about.”

“Like he doesn’t deserve it! All I do is be supportive, understanding, and worry about his damn well being. And then he goes and acts like my very much well-founded concern is an attack!”

Howdy’s frown softens as he watches Barnaby pace, gesturing wildly.

“I love that RV. Maybe not as much as Wally, obviously, but it pains me that it needs to go. And it does need to go! Thing’s becoming a damn deathtrap.” Barnaby pushes his hair back and huffs. He glances at Howdy. “Right? I’m making the right call, here?”

“Of course you are,” Howdy says. “But-”

Barnaby cuts him off. “I tried to be nice about it. I tried to warm him up to the idea of retiring Home, yaknow? And what does he do instead of handling it - he revs up the tin can and runs. Home shouldn’t be started, let alone driven. It’s dangerous.”

It’s extremely dangerous. Wally is skilled at driving it, but no amount of skill will save him if it breaks in the middle of the freeway. What if the engine catches fire? What if a tire pops, or comes loose? Home is old, and wasn’t made to crumple in a crash. Barnaby doesn’t even know if the airbag still works. It’s not safe.

The thought of Wally bringing Home hurtling down the freeway at ten at night in a - quite honestly - not great mental state turns Barnaby’s stomach.

“I just wanted him to come back so we could talk about it,” Barnaby says. “I let him keep worming his way out of a serious conversation and now - now he’s -”

“Running away,” Howdy finishes. The point of his pen taps a rhythm against his notepad.

Barnaby jabs a finger at him. “Exactly. One tough, necessary decision and he turns tail. This isn’t gonna go away if he skips town! Not to mention how he isn’t giving a thought to how this might affect the rest of us.”

“Especially you.”

Barnaby throws his hands up with an indignant look. “Now not only do I have to hunt him down-”

“That would be a we scenario, Barn.”

“But we,” Barnaby concedes, “gotta try to knock some sense into that thick skull ‘a his, and drag him back home - kicking and screaming if we hafta.”

Howdy’s pen taps faster. “What if he doesn’t want to come back?”

“What if he-” Barnaby stops short and stares at him, wide eyed.

That’s not.

That wouldn’t happen, right? Wally would come back in the end. He wouldn’t decide to up and leave entirely, would he? He is in Home… all the essentials he needs are in that RV. Barnaby sits down heavily on Howdy’s threadbare couch. “What if he doesn’t want to come back.”

Wally would have to come back to clear out his studio - he’d never abandon his art. Then they’d have to go through everything inside the house and see what he wants to take, since not all of it is Barnaby’s. A lot of it is shared, so they might have to bargain on who gets what.

Then they’d all have to watch Wally get into his motorhome and drive away. Possibly for good.

Barnaby would be alone in that big house with Welcome, knowing that his closest companion is out of his life. Living somewhere else. It's sickening.

“I’m sure it won’t come to that, Barn,” Howdy says, watching him with furrowed brows and a deep frown - if Barnaby were feeling like himself, he’d crack a joke about him emulating Frank. “I can confidently say that Wally loves you more than that old RV.”

Barnaby snorts. “You sure about that?”

“Unflinchingly. Believe you me, he’s going to wallow for a day or so, and then Home will come rumbling back down your driveway like it never left.”

“I wish I could have your faith,” Barnaby mumbles. He exhales and picks up his phone. No missed calls, no messages. “Maybe if I call him and ask him to just come back, no strings attached, he will.”

“That’s the spirit! Save the talk for another day - tell you what, I’ll help you corrall him so he can’t escape the conversation. I’ll tie him to a chair and bar the door if needed!”

“Good luck with that. Kid’s slippery.” Still, Barnaby hits call again. It rings only a couple of times before a robotic automated message states the caller as unavailable. Barnaby doesn’t enjoy being upset with Wally. However, it feels like his blood is simmering, and the wall is starting to look like great target practice for his phone. He grits his teeth. “He turned off his phone.”

From the corner of his eye he sees Howdy’s eyebrows shoot up as the man turns back to his paperwork. He exhales a controlled breath and writes something down. “I have to say, I’ve never known him to be such a-”

“Pain in the neck?” Barnaby offers.

Howdy clicks his tongue. “You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, well, he’s full of surprises.” Barnaby lets out a frustrated huff. He’s half tempted to run Wally down right now, but he wouldn’t even know where to start. There’s only one freeway out of town, but it goes both ways, and it branches. Wally would have hit one of those branches by now, and who knows which he took. North, south, east, west. Deeper into the woods, or towards the city? To the coast? Somewhere else entirely?

He has to face the facts - there’s nothing to do. He just has to wait until Wally pulls his head out of his ass and realizes how stupid and insensitive he’s being. Those are two words Barnaby would never normally use to describe Wally, but after tonight? They seem fitting.

Barnaby can’t even muster up guilt for thinking such harsh things. He tried to be nice. He was patient. He’s always kept a lid on it whenever Wally frustrated him, which doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. And what does he get for caring? For being tactful and careful about a shitty situation?

Avoidance, a shove, and a cut call. Wally left Barnaby’s been left to stew in his own anger and worry. Right now, he’s inclined to lock up that worry in a tiny box in the back of his mind.

Barnaby pushes himself up with a grumbled, “I’m makin’ some coffee, want some?”

“If you’re offering then I will not decline.”

Barnaby pretends not to feel Howdy’s eyes following him to the apartment’s tiny kitchen. It’s hell to maneuver around in, and the frustration of bumping into something every five seconds only makes Barnaby’s mood worse. By the time the coffee is brewing, he’s ready to punch the cabinets. He won’t, but he wants to. He’d regret it immediately, but he stares at the chipped paint and fantasizes.

The coffee machine breaks after brewing a whopping single mug. Barnaby stares at it for a long moment, and tallies up the consequences of taking a hammer to it. In the end, he just clenches his fists for a long moment and counts to ten. He takes the mug and sets it in front of Howdy, then goes to the window to brood. Thankfully Howdy is too reabsorbed in his work to notice beyond a mumbled thanks.

For the next hour, Barnaby’s thoughts are entirely composed of Wally. Different scenarios of what might happen next, how Barnaby might handle those situations without shaking Wally for doing something so needlessly reckless, and cruel daydreams of setting Home on fire. Barnaby wants to feel bad about that. He doesn’t. That damn RV has caused two different rifts between Barnaby and Wally - and Barnaby was the one to fix both of them, because both times Wally just left.

He gets it. He really does - for a time Home was all that Wally had. It’s been with him since Wally was thirteen, and if the thought of retiring it to a dump makes Barnaby sad, he can only imagine how much it distresses Wally. Well, he can do more than make an educated guess. Wally practically told him tonight, if not with words than with actions.

Still. They’re adults - Wally is older than him, if only by a handful of months. When does Barnaby ever ask something of him? When does Barnaby ever push? Why can’t Wally see that Home is becoming a liability, and why won’t he listen? Barnaby can’t make it make sense.

Wally has always been more inclined to avoid conflict, but this is too far. Barnaby swears, when he tracks Wally down he’s going wring that scrawny little-

His phone is ringing.

Barnaby lunges for it, relief dousing his anger. He picks it up, ready to give Wally a piece of his mind and then beg him to come back-

“It’s an unknown number,” he says, shoulders slumping. Of course it’s an unknown number. Wally wouldn’t change on a dime and decide to be considerate for once. He exchanges an exasperated look with Howdy and declines. He goes to set the phone down - the number calls back.

“That’s one determined scammer,” Howdy says. He leans back in his chair and holds out a hand. “I’ll deal with ‘em.”

Barnaby is all too happy to hand it over. Let the poor sap on the other end of the line deal with a master swindler.

“Howdy-hi, how can I help?” Howdy starts with a mischievous grin thrown Barnaby’s way? He leans back in the chair and hums. “Who, may I query, is asking?”

All at once, the ease drains out of Howdy and he stops fidgeting. He sits up, already looking at Barnaby with a paled expression that has something cold slithering down Barnaby’s spine. Something is wrong.

“He’s right here.” Howdy holds out the phone. His throat works uselessly for a moment before he plainly states the obvious, “It’s for you.”

Barnaby takes it, his mouth abruptly dry. Howdy is already up and moving - grabbing his coat, his keys. “Hello?”

“Is this Barnaby Beagle?” a professional feminine voice asks, tinny through the phone.

“B. Beagle, yeah.”

The woman introduces herself as the nearest city’s hospital, and Barnaby’s heart drops through the floor. She asks him to confirm that he’s Wally Darling’s emergency contact. He confirms, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. Howdy takes his arm and gestures to his shoes by the door, spurring Barnaby into motion.

“Is he okay?” Barnaby manages to say. He puts the wrong shoe on the wrong foot and almost curses aloud as he switches it.

“Mr. Darling was involved in an automobile accident,” is all the hospital employee says. “He was brought in a few minutes ago.”

Barnaby steadies himself against the doorjamb, choking on a whispered, “Oh, god.”

Keys jingle as Howdy opens the door and pulls Barnaby through, then locks the door behind them.

“But is he okay?” Barnaby asks again as they hurry down the short hallway to the stairs.

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at present.”

It’s bad. It has to be bad if they won’t say anything over the phone. He must be silent for too long, because Howdy takes the phone, tells her they’ll be there soon, and hangs up. He tucks the phone into Barnaby’s pocket before opening the door to the store’s back lot.

The frigid air slaps the shock out of Barnaby, and sensation comes flooding back in. He grabs the keys out of Howdy’s hand and strides to the car with long, powerful strides that would leave anyone shorter than Howdy in the dust.

“Are you sure-”

“I’m driving,” Barnaby growls, cutting Howdy off.

Howdy makes a disapproving noise, but relents. They get in and Barnaby adjusts his seat with harsh movements, jabs the key into the ignition because Howdy’s car is a dated hunk of junk, and peels out of the parking space before Howdy even has his seatbelt all the way on.

Howdy clings to the ceiling handle as the car tears down the mostly empty street, going at least ten miles over the speed limit. Barnaby doesn’t know exactly where the hospital is, but he knows how to get to the city. They can figure it out from there. Several people honk as Barnaby brings them flying onto the freeway.

“Holy Marilyn marmalade!” Howdy screeches as they narrowly avoid side-swiping a minivan.

Barnaby ignores him and cuts off a pickup to get into the right lane for the interchange. Howdy whispers a string of something high pitched and strained and clings to the handle with both hands.

It takes him a moment to parse out the constant ramble as, “-pull over pull over pull over pull over-” Two honks and a squeal of tires as Barnaby almost causes an accident, and Howdy yells in a louder and deeper tone than Barnaby has ever heard from him, “PULL OVER!”

Barnaby clenches his jaw and cuts across the carpool lane’s double whites. It only takes a moment to reach the shoulder. Howdy leaps out of the passenger seat as soon as the car stops, marches to Barnaby’s side, and wrenches the door open.

“Out,” he snaps, breathing hard. “Barnaby, I swear to all things priceless, get out. “

Barnaby meets his steely gaze for all of a second before unbuckling and getting out. Cars whip by. Howdy huffs at him and slips into the driver’s seat, muttering about recklessness and disasters and if you would wait to try and kill us until we’re right outside the hospital, if only to save us the ambulance fee-

When Barnaby gets into the passenger seat, Howdy waits for him to buckle in with fingertips drumming on the steering wheel. He merges onto the freeway smoothly and carefully. They go slower than the speed Barnaby had them flying down the asphalt at, and it makes something deeply impatient itch in him, but it’s safer.

“I know you’re upset,” Howdy says, eyes still fixed on the road, “and I know that you’re scared. But what in hell’s bells was that, Barn?”

Barnaby side eyes him and grimaces, folding his arms. “I don’t know. I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have put you in danger like that.”

“You put yourself in danger too, you know.” Howdy sighs and relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. “We’re of no use to Wally if we get ourselves in a crash. What would he say?”

“Whatever he’d say would be hypocritical,” Barnaby says before he can think better of it.

Howdy glances sharply at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“He..” Barnaby’s voice fails on him, and he swallows hard. “He was in an accident.”

Howdy is silent for a full few seconds before he exhales a thin, pained sound. “Oh, Walls…”

He must not know what else to say, which is good and well, because Barnaby doesn’t either. A long few minutes pass of silence. Headlights of passing cars on the other side of the freeway flash over them before plunging back into darkness. The dials on the dash glow. The check engine light is on. They’ll need to get gas in order to make it home.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Howdy says. He’s tapping the steering wheel again. “It’s likely just a few scrapes and bruises, at worst a broken bone. Nothing Wally can’t handle, and certainly nothing to be concerned over.”

Barnaby can’t bring himself to agree. Maybe… maybe if Wally was driving slowly… but that wouldn’t matter if someone crashed into him with enough force. Home is a large, sturdy vehicle, but it isn’t invulnerable. Wally certainly isn’t.

Without the distraction of driving, all Barnaby can think about is the what ifs. Yeah, what if he’s only a little bit hurt, but what if it’s worse? All of the worst images Barnaby can think of roll through his mind like a messed up movie reel.

Wally dead on the scene, caught in a hunk of twisted metal.

Wally, choking on his own blood in an ambulance, dying en route to the hospital.

Wally flatlining on a metal table.

Wally’s small body covered with a sheet-

“Almost there,” Howdy says, slowing at a stoplight. It bathes them both in red. Barnaby didn’t notice when they got off the freeway.

Barnaby squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to the cold window. After a moment, a slender hand rests on his thigh and squeezes. It’s such a small, stupid thing, but Barnaby breathes a little easier.

Despite the drive down the freeway feeling like it took hours, the drive through city streets to the hospital passes in a blink. Before Barnaby knows it the car is spiraling up to an upper floor of the parking garage. The floor is mostly empty - Howdy pulls into a spot right by glass double doors.

Barnaby gets out a split seconds before Howdy, staring at the pristine white walls just inside the doors. In a moment he’ll find out if it’s not that bad, or if he’s about to have the worst night of his life. He’s been to a hospital twice. The last time was for Howdy, but he went with the knowledge that it was only a precaution. The other time was for Mama’s health scare.

That had been terrifying. The waiting, the wondering, the too-bright hallways and the staff’s rigid smiles. It ended well, but it had still been horrible, and hospitals took center stage in some of his recurring nightmares. Barnaby never wanted to see another loved one in a hospital bed again.

Looks like he doesn’t have a choice.

Howdy comes around from the driver’s side and lays a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder. “If you need a moment to-”

“Nah,” Barnaby says, his voice rough. He nods and adjusts his sleeves. “Better rip the bandaid off.”

They go into the sterile maze. The bright overhead lights dazzle Barnaby’s eyes after being in the dim parking garage, and he grimaces at the strong odor of antiseptic and floor polish. Howdy makes a beeline for the nearest receptionist and talks to her in rushed, low tones.

Barnaby shuffles after him, rubbing his shaking hands together and eyeing every person in scrubs that walks past. Something beeps somewhere. He thinks he hears someone crying. This is a place without color, art, or happiness.

“This way,” Howdy says, walking past him and tilting his head at the elevator. Barnaby follows, feeling like a lost puppy dropped at the side of the road.

A nurse gets into the elevator with them and politely smiles before staring at the floor counter and pretending they don’t exist. It’s fine with Barnaby. If he has to make small talk right now, he might actually snap. The man’s pink scrubs are almost an eyesore in the harsh lighting.

The elevator dings, and they all get out on the same floor. Howdy reads door plaques and wall signs like a hawk, his head turning on a swivel as he reads everything at lightning speed. Barnaby nearly has to jog to keep up with his hurried pace.

Howdy changes direction without warning and heads straight for a door at the end of a short offshoot hallway. Barnaby reads the sign next to the door.

[can’t remember if it’s icu or the other thing, research later]

It’s bad.

The waiting room is small - longer than it is wide, and there’s a woman sleeping in a chair in the corner. It looks nicer than the emergency room, or where Barnaby waited to see his mama. The benches have colorful cushions, and the walls are a pastel green instead of white. There’s an abstract geometric painting on the wall next to the woman.

Barnaby slowly takes a seat on stiff cushions, watching Howdy talk to the receptionist from afar. He nods and pats the counter before joining Barnaby. He sits close enough that their legs press together.

“Someone will get us up to speed as soon as there’s news,” Howdy says. “I tried to pry some more out of him, but he wouldn’t give up another word.”

Barnaby nods, staring down at his hands. His nail polish is already chipping, despite Julie painting them only last weekend. Barnaby picks at the bright red on his pinkie until Howdy pulls his hand away and enfolds it in both of his own.

When Howdy takes a deep breath, Barnaby finds himself mimicking him. Their gazes meet - Howdy’s is unflinching, and steady. He smiles and runs his thumb over Barnaby’s knuckles, soothing the nervous trembling, and Barnaby is struck by how darn grateful he is to have Howdy with him.

If he had to do all of this alone… Barnaby doesn’t think he could. Either he’d have gotten himself into a crash to join Wally, or he would still be sitting in his car, staring at the hospital doors. He doesn’t have the courage. But Howdy does, and Barnaby loves him for it.

For once, Howdy lets the time pass in silence, though after a long stretch of indeterminable time he gets up to pace. The bench cushions are high quality, but they start to feel uncomfortable. Barnaby doesn’t dare go for a walk. At least they’re not the usual waiting room chairs - he’d rather stand than try to fit into those plastic, narrow things.

At some point the woman in the corner wakes up. She startles seeing two strangers in the room with her, but quickly ignores them. Barely a few minutes pass before she leaves, mumbling something about coffee. She doesn’t come back. Barnaby spends a while wondering why - did she go home, or wait somewhere else, or did she receive news in the halls?

Howdy sits down again and starts typing furiously on his phone. When Barnaby gives him a curious nudge, he quietly explains that he’s texting the group chat. Barnaby feels a twinge of guilt at that. He completely forgot to let everyone know that there’s a… situation. Who knows if any of them will see it until morning.

Message sent, Howdy gets up to pace some more. His rhythmic gait gives Barnaby something to focus on, seeing as the clock on the wall is silent, and the receptionist seems to be sleeping. Barnaby could probably pass time on his own phone, but every second spent distracted is a second he might miss someone coming to tell them…

What? Tell them what, exactly? That Wally is okay? That he can receive visitors?

That he didn’t make it?

The door opens, startling Barnaby to his feet. Howdy scurries over from the far side of the room and rests a steadying hand on Barnaby’s lower back. A woman clad in blue scrubs enters, reading something on a clipboard. There are shadows under her eyes, and she looks beyond exhausted. Barnaby can sympathize.

“Mr. Beagle?” the doctor asks, looking between them. When Barnaby nods, she smiles thinly, gaze flicking briefly to Howdy. “Hi. I’m Dr. Allen. Before I disclose any sensitive information, I’d like to confirm what your relation to the patient is.”

The question gives Barnaby pause. He’s always had a difficult time putting his and Wally’s relationship into simple terms, because it’s anything but. Wally is his best friend, his dearest companion, the man he lives with and can’t imagine being without.

“He’s my partner,” Barnaby settles on, because it’s a good umbrella term. Partner can mean a lot of things, and people don’t usually pry for specifics. “We’re as good as family.”

Dr. Allen writes something down on her clipboard. “No worries, I’m not going to kick you out if you’re not - you’re his emergency contact for a reason, after all. It’s just basic information that I’d like to have on hand.”

“Course - so how is he?” Barnaby cuts straight to the chase. He’s not in the mood for niceties.

“Well, Mr. Darling is certainly giving us a run for our money,” Allen sighs. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but I believe he’s gotten through the worst of it.”

“He’ll make it?”

Allen offers another tight lipped smile. “We’re doing our best.”

Barnaby has seen enough hospital dramas to know that we’re doing our best means no promises, prepare for the worst. Howdy must feel the tension gripping him like a vice, because his hand slips from Barnaby’s back to his hand.

“What are his injuries, if I may?” Howdy asks.

“I’m not sure-”

“Please. We’d rather know than wonder.”

Allen looks between them and sighs again. She flips a page on her clipboard. “Unfortunately, there was a bit of time between the crash and when emergency services were called. Between blood loss and the near-freezing temperatures, Mr. Darling developed mild hypothermia.”

Wally was dying, cold and alone in the wreckage of his home for who knows how long before anyone came to help. Barnaby sways in place, and Howdy helps him sit down on a bench instead of the floor. Allen looks apprehensive.

“Keep going,” Barnaby rasps. He needs to know.

Allen doesn’t look happy about it, but she continues. “Mr. Darling also suffered several low-grade lacerations from shrapnel, some fractured ribs, a compound fracture in his left tibia, and currently unidentified damage to his right hand and lower arm.”

Barnaby swallows a mournful sound. That’s fine, it’s fine. Broken bones heal - Wally will be painting again in no time.

“He also developed an intracranial hematoma. It’s been treated, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until Mr. Darling wakes up.”

“What is that?” Howdy asks before Barnaby can figure out how to speak again. “Intracranial hematoma - tell me if I’m wrong, but that sounds like a head injury.”

“It is - in layman’s terms, it’s a brain bleed. Head trauma can cause bleeding inside the skull, which puts pressure on the brain. We caught it as quickly as feasibly possible, which should raise his chance of a full recovery.” Allen flips the clipped page back into place. “There may still be lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet. I’ll be forward with you - this is one of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.”

Allen goes on to offer platitudes that Wally is a fighter, and easily answers the flood of questions Howdy has about the mentioned injuries. It all sounds distant. Underwater. The room is too small and the air is stale - are the vents working? Is there a window they can open?

In a blink - and yet the conversation lasts ages - Allen promises to come back with more information as soon as she has it. She smiles one last time and leaves.

“Barn?” Howdy sounds muffled. “Barn, are you alright?”

What kind of question is that? Of course Barnaby isn’t alright - his best friend is dying, likely on this very floor. There’s a chance he’s already dead. Barnaby might have already lost him, he just doesn’t know it yet.

Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.

One of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time.

Mild hypothermia - brain bleed - lacerations - fractures.

Lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet.

We’re doing our best.

“He hung up on me, the little bastard-”

Barnaby is up and out the door before he registers moving. He staggers down the hallways in a blur, everything swirling together into a mess of sight and sound as his lungs struggle to get a full breath. He bypasses the elevator and takes the stairs down to the level they parked on.

The cold air does nothing to help him breathe. Barnaby chokes on it as he leans against the rough wall grasping at his chest. Howdy is there immediately - he must have been on Barnaby’s heels the whole time.

“Talk to me, Barn,” Howdy pleads, a hand on the back of his neck and the other over the one Barnaby has on his chest. “What is it - you’re not having a heart attack, are you? Tell me you aren’t, I can’t handle that right now.”

Barnaby doesn’t know. Maybe? He feels like he is. He can’t breathe. He tries to say so, but the ragged gasps his breathing has devolved into doesn’t allow it. Howdy must know something he doesn’t, because he doesn’t run to get a doctor.

“How can I help?” he asks instead.

“Don’t - don’t - know,” Barnaby wheezes.

“Okay, alright, don’t worry, Barn, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s try, ah - what were the steps? I didn’t exactly write them down, though in hindsight I should’ve - that’s not the point! It was… what a time to take after Eddie’s memory-”

It shouldn’t be helping, but Howdy’s constant stream of words grabs Barnaby’s attention. He manages to inhale nearly a full breath before it stutters back out and he’s struggling again.

“Breathing!” Howdy says. “Yes, that was it - Barnaby, I need you to focus on me. Copy my breathing.”

He sucks in a slow, dramatic breath through his nose and exhales just as slowly through his mouth. Barnaby catches on and tries to mimic him, but-

“Can’t, I ca-an’t,” Barnaby says. His chest hurts.

Howdy presses their foreheads together. “Yes, you can. Come now, Barn, in… out. Simplest thing in the world.”

It doesn’t feel simple, but Barnaby tries. It feels like forever before he manages a full inhale. He butchers the exhale, but Howdy praises the minor win before launching right back into measured breathing.

Barnaby finally manages a slow inhale and exhale, and suddenly it feels like the pressure filling his chest has vanished. He slumps against the wall, worn out. He puts his hand over Howdy’s mouth in the middle of another dramatic demonstration.

“You’re alright now?” Howdy says, peeling his hand off. Barnaby nods, and Howdy leans next to him with a whoosh. “Thank the stock market - I was starting to get light headed.”

It takes another few minutes for them to catch their breath. Barnaby straightens enough to rest his head on Howdy’s shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne and homemade laundry detergent. Howdy cups the back of his neck and massages the tense muscle there.

“This will all turn out okay,” Howdy promises. “Wally is stubborn - I think we both know that well enough. By this time tomorrow we’ll be moving forward.”

Barnaby wants to be that optimistic, but this is real life. For all they know, moving forward means making funeral arrangements. His breathing stutters and he forces it to even out before he can start hyperventilating again.

A car pulls into a parking space with a gravelly sound. Barnaby pays it no mind until Howdy makes a surprised noise - Barnaby looks up, and his stomach churns.

Frank, Eddie, and Julie are all getting out of Frank’s car. They’re all in various states of dishevelment. Frank’s hair is a mess, and he has what looks like Eddie’s company jacket thrown on over his pajamas. Eddie is in little more than a shirt that says male? lol, more like mail! and boxers - he’s even wearing slippers instead of shoes, and his hair flops over his forehead in soft tufts. Julie’s hair is still in curlers, and though she’s wearing shoes, she’s in a too-long shirt over sweats that don’t belong to her. They’re paint-stained.

They rush across the parking lot, all worried faces and tired eyes. They’re already asking what happened, is Wally okay, Sally is getting Poppy, they should be here soon, has there been any news-

Barnaby lunges at the nearest trash can and vomits.

#IM SORRY FOR ANY HOSPITAL/PROCEDURAL INACCURACIES IM NOT TRYING TO BE ACCURATE AT THE MOMENT #except for the injuries. those are realistic and i did my due diligence. read a lot of first hand accounts! medical pages!#ohhhh this was so cozy to write #i mean. not as familiar as actual on-screen injuries but yk #its been too fluffy in here.#this is a mild example of my usual tastes and habits when it comes to fic & fiction #WHUMP CENTRAL BABEYYYYYY #i like it messy and painful!!! Lets Fuckin Go!!!!#this is a prime example of me not being able to shut the fuck up when writing #my scenes & convos just go on and on and on and on....#but yes! enjoy! the Crash arc is very thoroughly planned out in my head and lately its one of my favorite things to imagine before bed <3 #bedtime stories can be fictional characters going through horrible injuries & emotionally hurting each other #snippets from the bog #i will repeat what i have said multiple times before #i take the comic relief character. i hurt the comic relief character #i could have posted the little carnival half-scene. i could have #but ive been feeling stressed and caged and i need to let out some steam #and this is how i do that. controlled fictional violence <3

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 1 year

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Thief

A fluffy snippet for @thelocalnemesis, they deserve all the fluffy snippets!!

"Hero! You can't hide forever!"

Hero giggled from their hiding place, which happened to be under Villain's bed. They stifled their laughter when they saw a shadow stretch out in the room.

"Found you."

Hero cried out playfully as Villain dragged them out out from under the bed.

"Listen you little thief," Villain said, a smile tugging at their lips, "I know for a fact that chocolate ice cream was untouched before I left. Then when I get home, it's mysteriously been opened and the contents eaten. Any guesses to how it happened?"

Hero started laughing uncontrollably.

"M-maybe, maybe Supervillain did it!" They said between fits of laughter.

"Hm," Villain mused, straddling Hero, "let me tell you what I think. I think whoever did it left behind evidence. And your face has suspiciously chocolate-colored splotches on it."

"That is odd," Hero agreed.

"Mhm, which leads me to conclude that you, little Hero, are the culprit. Imagine, a corrupt hero."

"What are you going to do with me?" Hero asked.

"I'll have to take you into my custody," Villain said, getting off of Hero.

They swept Hero up into a bridal carry and deposited them on the bed. They took a blanket and rolled Hero into a blanket burrito. Once Hero was properly swaddled, Villain carried them to the living room and sat down on the couch, laying Hero's head in their lap.

"Hey, no fair!" Hero said, "I can't move!"

Villain smirked.

"You should've thought of that before committing such a heinous crime," they said.

Villain leaned down and pressed their lips against Hero's. Hero leaned into the kiss, and Villain could feel them smiling.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld

Ko-fi

#hero x villain fluff #hero x villain #fluff #writing #writeblr #creative writing #snippet #heroes and villains #fluffy #tooth rotting fluff #domestic hero x villain

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northern-passage · 8 months

Text

this was one of the first snippets i posted back on patreon in 2021, with Lea and Merry. i've edited it a bit (a lot) before reposting it since it was a few years old, and it was fun to see how much more confident i am now with writing intimate scenes than i was back then.

i imagine this would take place sometime while the gang is in Highfell, maybe the first few nights or right before they're setting out to leave again. enjoy~

Lea glances back as Merry quietly steps out onto the balcony, a sudden wave of heat washing over them from inside before the door closes and the cold night air chases it back out. They shiver a bit, eyeing the bottle in Merry's hand as she walks over to where they sit balanced on the railing, their back towards the inn, their feet dangling over the long drop down to the beach below. They take a deep inhale from their pipe, tasting it for a long moment before exhaling slowly.

Merry leans against the railing beside them, her arms crossed over the cold, damp wood, clutching the bottle still in her hand, tapping it lightly with her nails.

"You going to stay out here all night?" Merry asks, peering up at Lea, who just shrugs. "You're wasting that expensive bed in there," Merry scoffs, turning out towards the water and taking a quick drink before setting the bottle aside precariously atop the railing.

"I can't sleep," Lea says simply, staring out at the dark water, fidgeting with their pipe in their hand.

"There are plenty of other things you can do in a bed like that than just sleep," Merry smirks.

Lea huffs, rolling their eyes as they raise their pipe to their lips again.

The waves roll gently out across the beach, the black water shimmering as the full moon reflects its light across the choppy surface, with a soft green glow on the distant horizon from the northern lights. Merry and Lea sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Lea finds themself glancing sideways, staring at the woman beside them, the soft light of the inn filtering through the balcony windows and igniting her auburn hair in a dreamy glow, clashing with the dark shadows and white, pale light coming off the water.

"What?" Merry says, giving Lea a coy look out of the corner of her eye.

Lea scowls, shaking their head and turning away, lifting their pipe only for Merry to pluck it from their hand, tilting her head and leaning in close as she takes a deep breath, holding the pipe between her lips. Lea doesn't move away, even as Merry exhales, the smoke curling in the small space between them.

"Smoking is bad for you, you know," she says.

"So is drinking," Lea shoots back, and Merry just smiles, holding the pipe in her mouth, her lips curling around the mouthpiece as her teeth flash white in the dark.

Merry slides closer along the railing, her eye roaming over Lea's face, flicking to their lips, and she can’t suppress the thrill she feels when Lea doesn't move away, a sudden nervous energy pulsing in the air. Slowly, Lea reaches out, gently taking the pipe from Merry's mouth, and she lets them, holding their dark eyes in her gaze as they do it, her lips parting just enough for the mouthpiece to slide free. Lea is the one that looks away first, a slight blush creeping over their face, glancing down and fumbling with the pipe in their lap.

Merry is feeling bold, either from the alcohol or the tobacco or both, and she closes the remaining space between them, her hand gently brushing over Lea's thigh - but they go rigid at the contact, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her hand away.

Merry quickly steps back, recoiling, and Lea releases her, their eyes widening.

"What are you doing?" Lea asks, their words coming out too fast, clumsily swinging their legs back over the railing and dropping down onto the balcony. They clutch their pipe to their chest, blinking slowly at the captain, their eyes still wide and wary.

"Sorry, I clearly misread the… situation," Merry says, raising her hands, giving Lea an apologetic look. "I thought you were interested."

Lea hesitates, glancing out at the water, before forcing themself to look back at Merry.

"I - I am," they say quickly, grimacing before dropping their hands and setting their pipe down beside Merry's bottle on the railing. They struggle for a moment, scowling at the pipe and wringing their hands, anxiously twisting a thumb ring that Merry has never noticed before.

"I'm sorry. I just… are you sure?" they finally say, and they can't look at her, their face burning, wishing the floor would just swallow them up. Lea just finds it hard to believe that a woman like the captain would be interested in them - after everything. Of course, there's been flirting and teasing between them, but Merry seems to be like that with just about everyone. And even Lea wasn't sure sometimes if they really meant it - but right now, just the two of them, it feels more real. More tangible.

"I'm sure, Lea."

Merry tilts her head at them, studying their face for a moment. Lea is handsome, and their features look even more severe than usual in the unforgiving moonlight, their eyes flashing as they return her stare. Lea takes a step forward then, but stops short, opening their hands, palms-up - waiting for her.

Merry approaches them as if they were a skittish animal - she doesn't want to spook them again. But Lea gives her a little nod, and soon enough they're so close that she can smell nothing but that tobacco on their breath.

Merry takes their hands, guides them to her waist.

"I'm sure," she says again. "I like you, Lea Chen," she whispers, and Lea bows their head, their jaw set. Merry raises a hand and gently presses her palm to Lea's cheek, and they let out a long sigh, melting into the touch, closing their eyes for a moment before turning their head - just enough to brush their lips against Merry's inner wrist, feel her warmth and taste her pulse.

The gesture seems to ignite them both simultaneously, Merry's other hand tangling in their thick hair, cradling the back of their neck and urging them forward while Lea roughly grabs at her hips pulls her close. Their bodies lock together as their lips meet, teeth clicking against each other and lips splitting painfully in their haste.

It's a messy first kiss, both of them hungry for it, enthusiastic, clumsy, and a little bloody - metallic with the sweet spice of tobacco and alcohol making Lea's head spin as they taste Merry's tongue in their mouth. Merry rolls her hips against their thigh, pulling at their hair and sucking on their bottom lip, ignoring the ache in her teeth as they kiss and kiss and kiss.

Eventually they have to break apart, both of them breathing hard, Merry still gripping a handful of Lea's hair, their bun hanging loose with long strands falling across their face and tickling Merry's lips as they pant together over the sound of the waves.

"The bed," Lea says, breathless, and Merry nods, pulling them back towards the door, and they reach around her for the doorknob, throwing it open hard enough that it slams into the wall and makes both of them wince. But Merry just laughs.

"Sorry," Lea says sheepishly, ducking their head as they gently push it close. It's scorching in the room, from the woodstove, or just from the two of them together, hot and heavy hands roaming and groping as the two kiss again, slowly backpedaling towards the bed.

Merry shrugs out of her jacket, letting it drop to the floor before reaching for Lea's belt buckle. She pulls at their shirt, untucking it from their trousers, and Lea watches as Merry pulls their belt free in one quick motion, tossing it over her shoulder with a smirk. Her hands are surprisingly cold now, slipping beneath their shirt, Lea grunting from the touch as she trails her fingers across their stomach.

"Okay?" Merry prompts, looking up to search Lea's face, and they nod quickly, leaning forward to pepper kisses along Merry's jaw, down her neck, all while her hands explore beneath their shirt, tracing the plane of muscle over their ribs before slowly drawing her nails down their back.

Merry tilts her head back, Lea's lips brushing against her pulse, sucking gently, teeth grazing over her flushed skin, their hands reaching around to slide down the curve of her ass, squeezing roughly until she gasps. Merry pushes their shirt up then, fumbling a bit as she tries to unbutton Lea's trousers, and they laugh, the sound reverberating through Merry's chest before they relent, pulling back so Merry can actually see what she's doing. The buttons are no match for her now, and she gives Lea a coy look through her lashes.

"Take off your shirt," Merry says, her fingers curling around the front of Lea's trousers, partly pulling them open, admiring the glimpse of their lower stomach as they raise their arms to tug at their shirt. They jerk it off over their head, tossing it aside with their belt, and Merry drinks in the sight of them, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks over their exposed torso, their chest and their scars, and all the beauty marks adorning their skin. She releases their trousers to run her hands over their chest, their shoulders, squeezing the swell of muscle in their arms before pulling them back in for more kisses, open-mouthed and still hungry. Lea makes a sound in the back of their throat that sends a spike of want lancing hot up Merry's spine, and she grinds herself against them, her hands tightening around their arms hard enough to bruise. She breaks their kiss then to desperately press her lips to the hollow of their throat, breathing them in and dragging her tongue across their collarbone before blowing cool air over their pulse and making them shiver.

Lea pushes Merry farther into the room, tangled together and nearly tripping over each other until the back of Merry's knees hit the bed.

She drops down, pulling Lea down with her, though they catch themself, a hand on either side of her, palms pressed to the bedspread. They lower themself slowly, sliding their thigh between her legs and flexing it a few times and dragging it up along the length of her until she’s squirming, her fingernails leaving little half-crescents indented in their shoulders.

Lea pushes her shirt up, exposing her stomach, caressing her with a gentle hand before sliding low to kiss her just above her navel. They follow the scattered trail of freckles, their tongue snaking out and leaving its own glistening trail as they slowly make their way down to the waistband of her trousers. Their hands follow close behind, teasing her breasts before sliding down her stomach to her thighs, pushing them apart and opening her legs wide as they take their place on their knees. They pause for a moment, kicking their own shoes off before pulling at Merry's, followed by her trousers, with Merry laughing and wiggling on the bed all the while.

The laughing stops, though, when Lea presses their mouth against her, her breath catching in her throat as they kiss slowly at her inner thighs, sucking on the soft skin and carefully testing her with their teeth. Merry reaches down, fingers twisting through Lea's hair, her body arching back against the bed as Lea drags their tongue over her cock, hot and wet and attentive.

But they stop, pulling back to kiss her some more, on her stomach, her hips, biting at her thighs, all while her hand tightens around their hair until she can't take it anymore. Her thighs clench around Lea's head, breathless and giddy, her long hair starting to stick to the sudden sweat along the back of her neck.

"Lea," she whines, and then she inhales sharply as they finally wrap a hand around her base and press a wet kiss to the tip of her cock, staring up at her as they do, their other hand gripping one of her thighs. They open their mouth, taking a little at a time, bobbing their head as Merry gasps and pulls at their hair. Lea eventually grabs her hips, pressing her back into the bed when she starts to buck reflexively, their movements slow and agonizing as they keep stopping and starting again, kissing her stomach and thighs, reaching up and teasing her nipples through her shirt.

When they wrap their lips around her again, they let her hit the back of their throat, Merry loudly moaning their name, both hands tangled desperately in their hair now as they move up and down a few times and then slowly draw back, their tongue flexing deliciously against her before they let her fall from their mouth with a gasp. Strands of spit and fluid drip from their open mouth, and Merry tugs impatiently at their hair, sitting up then to meet them with a kiss.

Lea holds her face in their hands, their thumb stroking her cheekbone, tentatively touching the fabric of her bandana, still wrapped around her head and hiding her eye from them.

Merry pulls back, Lea's hands still cradling her face, and she reaches up, touching their wrist before taking their hand in her own, guiding their fingers to slide beneath the cloth, giving them a nod when they hesitate, their brow furrowed with concern.

"Take it off," Merry says, though her voice is soft, not a command like earlier - but a request. She nods at Lea again, sliding her hand down their arm and giving it a squeeze. The first time with someone, Merry usually keeps the bandana on - she's protective of it. It's not like it's some big secret - anyone can see the scars beneath the bandana, the way she hides behind it. Maybe they can even tell that she's hiding more than just her damaged eye. But she wants Lea to see. She doesn't know why, but she wants them to see her tonight.

Lea carefully lifts the bandana off, untangling some of Merry's hair twisted through it, setting it atop the blankets. Merry casts her gaze sideways, avoiding Lea as they take in her fully exposed face, her drooping eyelid and her milky white eye. They don't say anything, instead just reaching up again and tracing the scars there, the ghost of a touch along her cheek.

Merry closes her eyes, bowing her head for a moment. When she opens them again, she can't quite meet Lea's stare, so she looks down at their chest, at their own scars, and she mirrors their touch, her thumb caressing the raised skin that runs horizontal just beneath the muscle. Lea takes her in their arms then, pulling her close, humming softly as she touches them there.

"Merry," they breathe, their lips against her neck, and for a moment she just lets them hold her, kissing her throat and cradling her face while she strokes their chest.

Eventually, she slowly pulls back, slipping out of their arms and pressing her hands to their chest, pushing them back onto the mattress, her long hair falling over her shoulders and tickling their face. Sitting between their legs, she touches them with her hands first, caressing their face, the curve of their neck, then feeling the strong muscle of their shoulders, down to the swell of their chest and those long scars. The muscle over their ribs, the soft skin of their stomach, their hips, squeezing their thighs. She stands from the bed and takes off their trousers, dropping back down and starting again, her hands first, slow and deliberate, and then she follows with her mouth, kissing their jaw, the hollow of their throat, trailing along their collarbone before sucking on their chest, massaging and kissing along their scars, drawing a low moan from them before taking one of their nipples in her mouth and teasing them with her teeth. She sucks gently while Lea strokes her hair, pushing it back out of her face, gathering it in one hand and pulling it over her shoulder while their breath quickens with pleasure.

Merry kisses their scars a few more times before sitting back up, licking her lips and running her hands down their stomach and over their thighs again. She slowly draws her hand between their legs, and Lea's hips twitch, longing for her touch, pressing themself against her while they watch her through half-lidded eyes. She pulls back, getting an indignant huff from Lea, licking her fingers before she reaches down to touch them again. She drags her thumb over their growth, moving her hand in a slow circle, Lea's head rolling back against the pillows as she does.

"Fuck," they grunt, gritting their teeth and grabbing at the blankets. Merry stares down at them, pressing a palm to their lower stomach as she strokes their opening, playing with their growth until she's satisfied by their panting and moaning. Lea tries to stay quiet - it embarrasses them, it makes them feel too vulnerable, even more than someone touching them like this - but she doesn't let them. Lea bites their lip, swallowing loudly, sweating and twisting in the sheets until they can't resist it anymore. Her hand works faster and harder, until they finally moan her name, and then she slips a few fingers inside.

Merry pays attention to the spots that make them moan even louder, their body trembling from her touch, her fingers curling slowly inside with delightfully obscene sounds as she thrusts her hand faster and faster, hot and wet. By the time Merry moves her hand away and eases herself inside of them, they're both begging for it, Lea's legs shaking as they lift their hips to accommodate her.

They finish quickly together like that. Skin on skin, grunting together as Lea hooks their legs around her and touches her stomach, lifting her shirt up to grab at her breasts, holding her tight until she has to pull out to come on their stomach. It takes her a moment to recover, Lea pushing her hair back out of her face again, and then she returns her attention to them, working her hand against their growth just like before until they finally come undone completely beneath her. She strokes them gently a few more times before she untangles herself from their legs, standing from the bed and fetching a towel from the washbasin in the corner. She cleans them up, and then collapses on top of them, both of them hot and sweaty and clinging to each other. Lea takes a deep breath, wrapping their arms around her and holding her tightly against their chest.

"Hmm," Merry presses her lips to their flushed skin, giving them a few lazy kisses before tucking her head beneath their chin. "I told you I liked you, Lea Chen."

Lea smiles softly, reaching up to pet her hair, kissing the top of her head and feeling a sudden rush of affection that nearly makes their breath catch in their throat. They gently comb their fingers through her hair, neither of them quite knowing what else to say - until Merry is eventually lulled to sleep by Lea's gentle hands.

They take the chance to study the scars on her face, the slow rise and fall of her breathing, the way her body curls around them with her hands grasping at the blankets, grasping for them, even in her sleep. They notice a few grey hairs this close, and then they start to count her freckles when sleep alludes them.

Eventually they relax, leaning back into the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. They keep brushing their fingers through Merry's hair as they wonder how long it will be until they regret this. Only a few more days left here - only a few more days with her. It will be a clean break, at least.

They glance down at her again, clenching their jaw before turning their head to stare out the windows to the balcony, watching the distant northern lights dance across the water. At least right now, in this moment, they have this. Merry's steady heartbeat pressed against their own, the calming sound of the ocean outside, the heat of the woodstove making their eyes grow heavy - they feel warm and content as they finally pass into sleep, even when Merry slips out of their arms, and out the door.

#also i just realized highfell isnt on the water but theyre sitting by the ocean. oopsie #anyways. this was like the first sex scene i ever wrote LOL #it was very funny rereading it. i also avoided all 'bad' words back then #which i still tend to avoid using too many of them bc i do find them to be silly and a lot of them are like. ough #but you have to call it SOMETHING. you know #i honestly go back and forth about liking how i write these bc they do feel very.... hmm visceral isnt quite the right word #but i know they're not Fluffy or anything i tend to get straight to business lmfao #and then i'll read someone else's work who writes like the softest most beautiful sex scene ever. and im like :/ why does mine #read like a horror movie. LOL #snippets #lea chen #merry harlowe #nsft

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risetherivermoon · 4 months

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sneak peak for the oneshot thats a part of the telepathy nark au,

nicky's thoughts from lark's pov are incredibly silly

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save-the-villainous-cat · 2 years

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Greetings dearest Mother, this child has gotten the big sad again. May i request for a hero with abandonment issues with their villain lover comforting them with cuddles and kisses. Thank you and have a great day.

“I’m so sorry, darling.” The villain rushed towards their lover and pulled them instantly close.

“Oh god,” the hero choked out. They couldn’t breathe, they couldn’t think. They were too shocked to even cry. Two days. For two days, they’d been gone. All the hero could do was fight for air and wonder if this pain, this fear would ever ease.

The villain loosened the grip on their hero to give them more space but it only made everything worse since the hero’s knees gave out under them.

“Darling—” The villain caught them right before their knees could hit the floor. They were gentle and sank onto the floor with their lover, their grip firm. Suddenly, the hero started crying, their fingers clawing the villain’s suit. “I am sorry, please forgive me.”

“Are you okay?” the hero asked between sobs. They felt themselves hyperventilating but tried to calm down. For the villain’s sake, for their own sake.

They went through the breathing patterns they’d established with the villain. Likewise, the villain helped them with the perfect hand placement and encouragement.

“I am, my love. I promise I am alright.” The hero’s hand skimmed over the villain’s suit and neither of them were surprised about what came next.

“You’re bleeding,” the hero gasped, weeping into their lover’s shoulder. “You’re bleeding again.”

“I am okay,” the villain promised, kissing the hero’s temple. “I am okay, darling.”

“No, you’re hurt, you’re—” The hero didn’t finish their sentence, instead they just let the villain’s suit soak up their tears.

“Darling, I am so fucking sorry. I never wanted to leave. I wish I could’ve told you but my boss…” The villain didn’t need to finish their sentence either. The hero understood, they truly did. The villain’s boss was a horrible monster. Someone who had blackmailed their lover countless times. Someone who thought people were replaceable.

Though the hero knew nothing but devotion from their lover, there were still doubts in their mind at times. Doubts which were stupid above all.

Being close to the villain solved almost all their problems but they couldn’t help but think about the injury. It always happened. The villain always came back battered. Blood, broken bones, bruises…every time, the hero would start crying when they stitched their wounds.

And the villain would take the needle. They would kiss their cheek. They would try to stitch the wound themselves. But in the end, the hero always finished the stitches.

Slowly, they parted from their lover, their eyes scanning the wound sadly.

They felt how their brain went numb, how they calculated everything for the coming wound treatment.

“It was a knife,” the hero said. They’d seen those wounds before. As always, their eyes felt swollen. Their voice was thick.

“It’s not very deep,” the villain whispered. However, when the hero brushed the pulsing flesh the villain winced harder than usual.

“I’ll get the kit.” The villain grabbed their wrist.

“I’m sorry,” they said again. It was soft. They kissed the hero’s nose. “I am sorry, my love. It breaks my heart to watch you go through this every time. I hope I’ll be able to stop.”

“Just waking up without you…I think that was the worst part. And then fearing you wouldn’t come back…that you would leave me,” the hero said. “That was my first fear. And then I remembered why you were gone. That was even worse. Not knowing when you come back, I mean.”

“Darling, I love you,” the villain said. “I will always come back home. I’ll always find a way, even if I have to crawl to you, I will be there.”

#hotd had me rewatch got and oh my god I am crying the first seasons are so great and knowing where it’s headed to breaks my heart #also the urge to continue a fluffy snippet of mine and kill the characters instantly is always present #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #h/c

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flowerpottlady · 1 year

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Happy Birthday Mummy

In honor of Lily’s birthday, I woke up with this little scene in my head - and could not rest until I had it written out. It’s just a little snippet of what will come in A Turning Point, and a very sweet little moment of James and Lily as husband and wife - and as parents!

Here it is!

Happy Birthday Mummy

“Lil?” James whispered into the darkness of their bedroom tentatively. He took in the small, still body in the center of their bed. Auburn hair gracefully falling toward one side, her porcelain features peaceful as her eyes scrunched in her sleep.

“Shh Harry, it’s alright mate.” James whispered again, to his red faced infant son - screaming in his arms. He took a small step forward opening the door wider, as he guiltily brought the wailing baby into the room where his wife slept.

“Lily - I’m so sorry to wake you love.” He said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing his hand on her shoulder as she stirred slowly. “I was trying to let you sleep in - I’ve tried everything but he won’t take a bottle.”

“S’alright,” came her voice - thick with sleep - as she shifted slightly, sitting up and pulling up the bottom of one of his old Quidditch shirt that she had fallen asleep in.

Her eyes barely opened, as she stretched out her arms -her hands making grabbing motions - while her heart wrenched at the sound of the cries coming from her baby.

“Happy birthday Lily.” James said softly, placing Harry in her arms and pressing a tender kiss against her cheek.

“Mmm, thanks.” She whispered with a smile, her baby struggling for just a moment until he settled against her bare chest, latching on and cooing in content as he finally got what he had been needing for the last hour. “The joys of parenthood,” Lily laughed softly, cradling Harry against her, and sinking her back further into the pillows.

James then sat fully on the bed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and placing his chin on her shoulder - relishing the sight of his son’s sweet face, his dark hair sticking out in chaos. “You do this so perfectly.” He murmured into her neck.

“Hmm… what?”

“Being his Mum.”

Lily turned to face him, her eyes now fully opened, and twinkling brightly at him. “That’s sweet of you.” She responded, kissing him fully on his mouth before she turned away - chuckling slightly. “I should probably stop pumping though - there’s no point really. It’s just going to waste.”

“It makes sense - why would he want a glass bottle when he could have a boob in his face.”

“… and the sweetness is gone.” Lily laughed, rolling her eyes, and looking back down at the six month old. She could scarcely believe that the little person she carried inside of her for nine months was nearly half a year old. Every moment with him was precious; the way he lit up looking at her, how he craved her touch, the hair pulling, the baths, the feedings. Watching him learn to hold his head up - to sit, to roll. The way he laughed the sweetest little noise whenever he looked at James. All of this, being a mother and a wife, was magnificent, and she wouldn’t give up any of this - her husband or her son - for anything in the world.

“Did you want to do anything in particular for your birthday?” James questioned, interrupting her train of thought.

“Knowing you, I reckon you’ve got something wonderful planned.”

“Well, of course I do.” He said simply, “but it is your birthday, so we can work in whatever you wanted too.” - it was difficult to make plans, to make her day special knowing they couldn’t leave their home.

“Hmm… chess.” She said, “and it is my birthday so you have to let me win.”

“Obviously… I can make that happen.” James spoke mischievously, kissing her cheek sloppily. It never failed to surprise him, that after three and a half years together, how much he loved her. How lucky he was to have her in his life. And he vowed, years ago - he would always do whatever it took to keep her happy, to show her daily how much he loved her.

“I was planning on giving you breakfast in bed - I haven’t started making it though.” He admitted dejectedly, sighing and stretched out his fingers to smooth across Harry’s soft cheek. “Someone wanted his mummy.”

“That’s alright. I do love being wanted.” She reminded him, nursing her son was not something she would eagerly give up - even if it meant having to wake up before six in the morning on her birthday. “Thank you for trying though.”

“Always love.” He said, kissing her shoulder once more. “When he’s done, I’ll take him and you can go back to sleep.”

“Usually I’d refuse, but someone kept me up late last night.” She laughed, thinking back to their activities the night before. Both of them welcoming sex back into their lives - very happily.

James grinned then, “I’d say it was worth it.” He kissed her again, watching her nodding fiercely in agreement. “We can even have a repeat tonight if you are up for it.”

“I definitely am.”

“I love you.” He said, meaning every word. Just then, Harry detached from her, smacking the milk from his lips and cooing for attention.

“I love you too mate.” James smiled down at him, gladly taking Harry from Lily - placing him over his shoulder and patting his back gently until he released a loud burp.

Harry leaned back, staring at his father until a wide smile of recognition grew across his chubby cheeks. “Let’s say happy birthday mummy!” James whispered excitedly, turning Harry to look at Lily, holding his tiny hands out to her.

“Thank you Harry!” She bent down to kiss his soft head, “you make me feel so special.”

“You are love,” James said, “Harry and I will go start breakfast, you go back to sleep.”

“Harry can’t cook James. He only just started sitting up.”

“Don’t question our son’s talents in front of him.”

“Right - my mistake. Well, be careful with the stove then Harry.”

The baby in question, looked at her curiously, bouncing slightly- ready to get on with his day.

“We’ll be downstairs, Love.” James said, standing up and carefully balancing his son with one arm. He bent down one last time, hovering over Lily as he pressed yet another kiss to her cheek. His warm breath grazed against her ear while he whispered to her, “Happy Birthday Mummy.”

…