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#hi this has been stuck in my head FOR DAYS
hurkules · 2 days
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Domestic Life Thoughts…
Jason likes that you need him. He goes weak in the knees when you ask him to open containers because “the top must be stuck.” He can’t help but smile and give a gentle “of course, baby.”
He likes how you drape yourself over him throughout the day. He’s always touch starved, and it gives him butterflies to think that you want him as much as he does you. He doesn’t care to have personal space when it comes to you.
Whenever he gets the chance, Jason cooks for you. He looks up recipes to try out and beams when you compliment him. Whenever you bake, he eats it all in like 48 hours or less. “Sorry, baby” he’ll say placing a kiss on your cheek. “It was too good. I couldn’t resist.”
Sometimes, he has nightmares but waking up next to you is a life saver. Once he was confused and grabbed you wrist a little too hard leaving a bruise. He begged for forgiveness and banished himself to living room for a couple of days. Occasionally, he thinks about it, plants gentle kisses there, and gives a soft “so sorry, baby. It’ll never happen again.”
Jason never yells. Even if you’re arguing, he never raises his voice at you. You yelling literally doesn’t phase him in the slightest, and, to be honest, angry you is super cute and attractive to him. Despite this, he doesn’t act with the intent to upset you. Sometimes, he’s just a dick.
He’s such a loverboy. The two of you have weekly dates and he’s always bring you back chocolate and flowers. He’ll write poems and love notes and leave them on the night stand for you to find when you get home or wake up. He blushes when he finds little love notes you left in his bag and makes a mental note to thank you for it later. You put a cat sticker on his bike, and it’s his favorite thing. He added a heart sticker next to it because “you love cats, coincidentally, you’re kinda cat like, and I love you. It works out perfectly.”
It had been years since he celebrated his birthday, so when you decided to dedicate the day to him, he nearly cried. At the end of the night, you gave him a locket with pictures of the two of you and your cats. You had Eternal Sunshine engraved on the front because “This time with you have been the brightest and warmest days of my life.” At that point, he actually did cry. “You mean the world to me, baby” he told you through tears with his head buried in your neck. “I’d do anything for you. My heart’s always been yours. I swear it.”
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okay i've seen a few Just Some Guy!danny aus and they've consumed my brain so here you go, it's under the cut, you're welcome and thank you (ps it also combines part of a prompty type thing i saw the other day, props if you know it)
Danny was not entirely sure how he got here.
He was just walking along, bopping to some great interdimensional tunes, eating his tuna fish sandwich - with ectoplasm and pickles, of course - when KABLOW there's this big ole tightie-whities-on-the-outside wearing guy.
Now, Danny's not great at keeping up with the times, but he's pretty sure this is that Superman dude.
Said SuperDude was staring at his headphones and making vague "hey take them out pls so can converse" gestures, so naturally Danny pops the Interdimensional Walkman out of his chest to pause his wicked music, and then puts the whole kit and kaboodle back behind his rib cage.
"What's up? Did you need help or something? I mean, I'm pretty solidly retired but I guess if it's super important I can-"
SuperGuy abruptly stopped staring and started speaking, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"
Ohhhhh, Danny totally gets it now.
"Oh, dude, I gotchu. You want me to hook you up, right? Don't even worry about it, I know a guy who'll give you one a these babies for free! You're Kryptonian, right? Yeah, I totally get it, you wanna listen to some music from your home planet, no problemo my newly-minted friend, give me, like, ten seconds-"
And so Danny tore open a neat little portal and stuck his head through it, asking Technus to pretty please give him another Interdimensional Walkman, no he didn't even break this one-! He ran into a Kryptonian who heard him rockin out and wanted to know where he got the beats, and he'd told them that he could hook them up! C'mon Technus, you can't let them down! They're all lonely! They want to learn about their culture!
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Clark has no idea what's happening.
He had been searching for this ear-splitting, headache-inducing noise, and had come across a guy dancing down the sidewalk.
Not unusual, right?
Except that the terrible noise was coming from this man's - kid's?? He can't quite tell how old he is - headphones!
Of course, he didn't want to be rude, so he politely gestured for the man to remove the headphones. The man then proceeded to reach into his chest and pull out some kind of - Walkman?? Do people still use Walkmans?
Clark was naturally concerned, so he activated a spot of x-ray vision, just to see what's going on in there, and was promptly horrified.
This man was using his chest cavity as a storage compartment!
Two wallets, a key ring, a lunch box, some sort of odd thermos, bits and bobs of random parts and tools were all tangled around - and occasionally in - this guy's organs!
Suddenly, Clark realized that he'd been staring for a while, and the man was now talking. Something about coming out of retirement to help, oh dear, Ma would knock him around the head if he kept being so rude, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"
And now he was speaking rapidly, something about music from Krypton? Clark's pretty sure that not a whole lot survived the explosion, and he'd be pretty surprised if this guy just happened to have-
A vaguely Lazarus colored portal??
What in the world-
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"Thanks Technus! You're the best! I owe you one non evil scheme related favour!"
Danny zips up the portal and turns around, fiddling with the tapes and Walkman in his hands as he goes.
"Here you go! I wasn't entirely sure what genre you'd want, I don't really listen to a whole lot of Kryptonian stuff to be honest, it's usually too heavy on the vocal for me- not that vocals aren't great! But I want a whole band experience, yaknow? I'm not really looking for individual singers. Anyway, I just had him go for a couple songs of each major genre, but if you want something different you can totally-"
"Wait, hold on, you're telling me that there's Kryptonian music on those tapes? Playable by that Walkman?"
"Uh, well, yeah. Isn't that why you tracked me down? And, technically, I mean, they're ectoplasmic tapes and an Interdimensional Walkman, so. Hey, did you know that kryptonite is actually super-condensed ectoplasm? And since it's filled with the anguish and suffering and fear and whatnot of your entire home planet dying, it only negatively affects your species! Pretty cool right? Oh, shit, was that insensitive, I really didn't mean to be, I just thought that maybe you'd want to- ACK!"
Danny was not expecting SuperMuscles to get so close. He thrust out the IW and tapes and dropped them into SuperFellow's hands, "Listen, I gotta run. I'm supposed to be at a o-chem study group right now and they're totally gonna be pissed. Hit me up if you want a different tape."
And the proceeded to run in the opposite direction, duck into an alley and turn invisible, and fly over to the cafe his study group was in.
"Listen, I know I'm late but you'll never believe why-"
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jayflrt · 3 days
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𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 20. and there was one bed
content warnings: drinking, jay fucks himself LOL and he lowkey has a sir kink
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JAY FELT YOUR SHALLOW BREATHING AGAINST HIS NECK BEFORE HE EVEN NOTICED THE ACHE SETTLE IN HIS BONES.
He hardly recollected anything from last night, but he wasn't quite sure how he ended up with his limbs entangled with yours. Not only were you impossibly close and left hardly any room for Jay to think rationally, but your thigh was dangerously close to where his hard-on was tight against his jeans.
He swallowed thickly. Your face was tucked into the crook of his neck, his arms were wrapped tightly around you, and if he moved even a little, your soft lips were against his skin. One of his hands was holding the small of your back, pressing your body against his, and oh, this was dangerous territory.
This was all his fault, of course. Jay was confident this wouldn't have happened if he had been in full control of his actions; he shouldn't have let himself drink so much. It was just that he was having too much fun, getting ahead of himself, and now he had royally fucked up.
You were his assignment.
You were the one he was supposed to investigate.
Carefully, he pried your limbs off of him, making sure your breath steadied and that you were still asleep before he slipped off. He made a beeline for the bathroom, immediately gripping the sides of the sink and letting his head hang.
Finally, he could breathe normally.
When he looked in the mirror again, his cheeks were burning with shame. An ugly part of him just wanted to get rid of the agonizing stiffness, and he was quickly caving to that desire.
Thank you, Sir.
You said it plenty of times these past few days—as a joke, obviously—but Jay couldn't help but feel so bothered over it. It was stuck in his head all the time, the words ghosting across his skin like a feather and making his nerve endings feel as if they were on fire.
He screwed his eyes shut. You can't, he thought (and his inner voice sounded rather desperate). She's your assignment. She's the person you've been targeting for months. You can't do this.
But this one time would just have to do because Jay wasn't sure how he'd be able to walk out and face you if he didn't relieve himself now.
"I always forget you're so easy to talk to," you said during the hike yesterday, hands on your hips as you tried to catch your breath in the middle of the trail.
He unbuttoned his jeans in a fumbling motion, pushing them down his thighs so that the head of his cock was showing past the waistband of his boxers. Jay's breath hitched as he reached down and grabbed ahold of his shaft.
"There's so many people around me that feel like... they only care about me because of my family—I don't know." He remembered the uncertainty in your voice back then, and the way you nearly smiled before catching yourself.
There was a hot rush under his skin. Jay felt his knees nearly buckle as soon as he gave his shaft a few experimental strokes.
"I feel like you just see me for me."
Biting down hard on his lower lip, Jay jerked himself off with your face in mind, and it made him feel sick. He didn't want you to go home. He didn't want you to leave. In the seconds he was chasing pleasure, he could admit to himself that he just wanted to go back to his bed and wrap his arms around you again.
"Oh, my shoe's untied," you said, absentmindedly. Jay knelt down before you back then, and as he recalled the memory, his eyes went foggy with lust and he pumped his cock even faster. His breathing got harder. His senses clouded. The building pressure was almost unbearable. "Thank you, Sir."
He came into a tissue that he managed to grab just before he fell apart. Even then, his cum had gotten all over his hands, and he could only stare at it blankly afterward. He was sick. He was filthy. How could he even do something this dirty to the thought of you? Then, he cleaned up the mess and rinsed his hands under hot water, his staggering intakes of breath keeping him from collapsing backward.
Never again. Jay knew in his heart that he could never be with you, and he was a fool for even giving in to his carnal desires like this.
The gentle knock at his bathroom door nearly made his skin crawl. "Jay?" you called out, sleep dragging out your words. "Are you in there?"
"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute," he got out quickly.
I feel like you just see me for me.
Maybe in some alternate reality out there, you and Jay had the world at your disposal—free to be together however you'd like. In this reality, however, he couldn't see any possible way to pursue you that didn't end in heartbreak. It was easier this way; to break his heart on his own before he even let you hold it.
i hit the image limit and can't add a proper divider
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SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.
TAG LIST ▸ @zdgx1 @smouches @heesdazed @teawithbucky @leep0ems @peachpie4you @niniissus @kgneptun @jaeyunluvr @hooniesuniverse @zerasari @enhalov @sophiko22 @iselltulips @hoondiors @baekhyunstruly @jays-property @woninluv @heerinnie @fakeuwus @yizhoutv @en-happiness @theothernads @y4wnjunz @dammit-jjk @en-happiness @mari-oclock @enhypens-baby @soonyoungblr @jakeslvt @taetaenic @jebetwo @fairysungx @hsgwrld @shmooooo @ineedsomezzz @mrowwww @enha-stars @isawritesss @seongclb @lockburn-castle @alyssajavenss @enczen @calumsfringe @w3bqrl @luvyev @uhsakusa @luvnicho @wildflowermooon @navsnct
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estrellami-1 · 3 days
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Steddie Microfic
March bonus prompt: birthday
Word count: 290
No warnings apply
Rated G
@steddiemicrofic and especially the HAPPIEST of birthdays to @steddieas-shegoes! When I was first starting out in this fandom, you were one of the first people I really connected with, and I am so grateful for your presence on this site! ❤️
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Steve knows it doesn’t have to be perfect, okay? He knows.
Except… it also kind of does.
Here’s how it goes. Last year, Eddie was stuck in a hospital, handcuffed to the bed, because he was wrongly accused of murder after almost being eaten by interdimensional monsters.
Steve has decided, as one of Eddie’s best friends—and the secret love of his life, not that Eddie needs to know about his feelings—that this year would be perfect.
The cake looks fantastic. The music has been left in Robin’s more-than-capable hands. The presents are all wrapped and sitting in a neat little pile on the kitchen table, behind the cake. Wayne’s just helped Steve finish his chili, the one thing Eddie asked for.
“If I can have anything this year,” he’d said quietly, looking off into the distance, “I think I don’t really want much. All my friends, obviously, but all I really want besides that is Wayne’s chili.”
“There’s no fuckin’ way,” he whispered later, ghosting his fingers over the wrapping paper of the largest present. “If this is what I think it is-”
Steve grinned as he finally tore into it, gasping when he’s holding a brand-new guitar, the same kind as the one lost to the Upside Down.
“You’ll have to give me an encore soon,” Steve murmurs later, after everyone else is gone, nodding at the guitar, before smiling nervously. “It’s not over yet. I have something for you that I keep chickening out of giving to you.”
Eddie frowns and tilts his head, listening. “What’s that?”
Steve ducks his head, barely dares eye contact when he says, “A kiss?”
Eddie grins, wider than Steve’s seen all day. “Well, what’re you waiting for? I want my birthday present!”
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itsjaywalkers · 3 days
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for the prompt game: ROSEKILLER 57 WITH BOXER AU IVE BEEN WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS MOMENT……….. (also i hope you’re having a fun day off laurie hi hi 🥺🤍)
HI HI SAINTS BELOVED <333 i actually didn't get the day off bc i'm an idiot and i couldn't say no when my coworker asked me to change shifts.. but at least i got home before 10pm which . is unusual for me lmao . and today's shift was actually kinda fun so !!
anyways, hope you're having a lovely day and that u enjoy this silly lil thing <3 first peek into boxer au rosekiller <3 (i went a bit overboard but they've been plaguing my mind and u don't deserve less)
57. "Teach me to fight."
It's been more than half an hour of hitting the punching bag nonstop when Barty finally decides to take a break. It's not even because he's actually tired, despite the sweat he can already feel dripping down his back and his face. It's because his bad shoulder—the right one—dislocated during the last combination he tried, and after Barty puts it back in place, he's gotta wait a little bit before going back to training.
This happens way too often for comfort, but it's not really painful anymore—it never really was, or maybe Barty has simply dealt with much worse. Besides, the longer he ignores it, the more serious it'll get, which means he'll have an excuse to go get another check-up.
His manager already warned him when he first got the injury after that stupid fight with stupid Potter. Barty began to grow restless during recovery time, and then decided his shoulder was fine when it stopped hurting.
Obviously, he was wrong. Except, it only dislocates when he goes too hard, and he's learnt how to put it back in place without issue, so really, technically, he was sort of right. What does his manager know, anyway? As long as Barty continues winning and putting money in that fucker's pocket, there shouldn't be any complaints.
He pulls up his tank top and dries off some of the sweat on his neck and the side of his face, while rolling his shoulder gently, testing the waters before he goes back to punching, when the hairs at his nape begin to stand up.
There's no noise, no sudden sounds. Barty doesn't hear the door opening, or closing, and yet, when he turns around, smirk already pulling at his lips, he isn't surprised to find someone standing right behind him.
"Hey, Rosie," he greets the other man, who blinks at him, completely deadpan. "I didn't know you were still around. Long shift today?"
"Yes, you did," Evan responds, that cool tone of his sending a pleasing chill down Barty's spine. "Know, that is. I'm pretty sure you've got my schedule memorised."
Barty takes a few moments to drop the hem of his shirt, because he notices the way in which Evan's gaze drops to his stomach and stays there for a handful of seconds. His expression doesn't change, there isn't even a flicker of something in his face, but the attention is more than enough for him.
"Well, you left your email open and your laptop in my near vicinity." Barty shrugs, eyes running up and down Evan's body. He's still wearing that sexy white coat of his, the shirt underneath it perfectly buttoned and tucked inside his jeans.
There's barely any skin showing, because Evan is a little weirdo, but there's some ankle peeking, since the pants are ridiculously tight on him and the legs keep riding up slightly.
Honestly, it's like he's doing it on purpose. Barty can't be blamed if he ends up hard under his sweats. He can already feel some blood rushing south just at the sight of that tiny sliver of soft brown skin.
"And you downloaded my rotas?" Evan guesses, tilting his head to the side.
"Nah," Barty says, crossing his arms over his chest, flexing a little. "Didn't have to. I've got a damn good memory. I read over them for a couple of minutes until they stuck."
Evan nods, not fazed in the slightest.
"That's why you only come in when I'm on shift," Evan states, and it's not a question. He doesn't seem surprised, or freaked out, but then again, he barely shows any emotions. Apart from irritation, that is, and that one's reserved for when Barty is being especially pushy. Or especially horny.
"I don't think I've ever seen any of the other nurses a single time in my life," Barty tells him with a chuckle.
"You have," Evan retorts, and his eyes narrow the tiniest bit. Barty feels a pull in his stomach. "You were talking to Betty three weeks ago, after your match against Black. The bad one. You let her check your shoulder."
Barty lets out an incredulous laugh, not sure on where to focus first, going dizzy with how badly he wants this freak of a man.
He's obsessed with the way in which Evan always seems to get the urge to clarify which Black he's talking about, as if it's not obvious, considering only one of them fights. How he's always so precise, never allowing any ambiguity into his sentences. How almost nothing seems to hold his focus apart from his experiments and medicine and his patients' injuries, and yet, here he is, remembering when Barty talked to someone else momentarily.
"Did I?" Barty asks innocently, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his shit-eating grin at bay.
"Yes," Evan responds, a little furrow appearing between his eyebrows. "She was touching you."
"Was she?" The corners of Barty's mouth are twitching so much he's sure he must look like an absolute maniac.
"Yes," Evan repeats, some exasperation slipping into his voice. "She wasn't even doing it right. She kept kneading the muscle in the same place, instead of checking the ligament, and she did this for more than five minutes, even though it takes seconds to find out about a dislocation—"
"Rosie," Barty cuts him off gently, watching, with no little amount of delight, how Evan's frown worsens. "I didn't even know her fucking name. I couldn't give less of a fuck about stupid Betty, or whatever the hell she's called."
Evan blinks slowly. "But you—"
"I was tired and sore after that match, my shoulder was bothering me, and she was there. My manager told her to check my shoulder, just in case I had fucked it up beyond solution, but if I had known you were around she wouldn't have laid a single finger on me."
There's a beat of silence, Evan's dead eyes searching all over Barty's face, assessing and determined. He smirks at him, which results in Evan huffing and looking away.
"Don't do it again," it's what he ends up mumbling, and if Barty didn't know any better, he'd dare to say Evan is close to pouting. "You're my patient."
Barty raises both eyebrows, a deranged smile splitting his face while he perks up like a goddamn dog. "Is that jealousy I'm hearing, Rosie?"
"No," Evan drawls, straightening up. "It's just the truth. You're not my only patient, you know? But if you're getting treated by me, then you're not allowed to see any other nurses."
"Damn, way to make a man feel special," Barty scoffs, but he does actually kind of mean it. Which he's aware might be a bit pathetic, but, well, he'll be whatever the fuck Evan wants him to. "Wasn't interested in seeing any other nurses, anyway."
"Good." Evan nods, almost to himself, and Barty has to make an active effort not to coo. "Are you done training?"
Barty blinks a couple of times, slightly taken aback, both by the sudden change of topic and by Evan entertaining conversation. Normally, talking to the other boy feels like pulling teeth—oh, man, Rosie would fucking love this comparison—which Barty doesn't mind because he finds it incredibly fun. Unless Evan is going on one of his medical rants, and yeah, Barty shouldn't find it as attractive as he does, but it's not like he's ever worked like he's supposed to.
But this? This is new.
"Not really," Barty answers, still feeling off-kilter. He shakes his head, forcibly pulling himself out of his mind. "Why? You wanna join me, Rosie?"
"As a matter of fact, I do."
Barty snorts, assuming that it's a joke, even though he's more than aware that Evan doesn't do jokes, because his humour is way too dark, and rarely finds funny what others do. But Evan's expression doesn't change, and Barty nearly chokes on his own spit.
"Wait, you're serious?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"You've never been interested in boxing," Barty points out.
"That's a lie. I watch every match," Evan argues, lips pursed.
"Because you're job kind of forces you to."
"Also a lie. I need to be there when I'm on shift, in case they call for me, but I'm not required to actually watch."
"Yeah, but you still do, because your pretty little morbid head goes absolutely feral at the prospect of seeing some blood."
Evan scrunches his nose, as if disgusted.
"You're wrong," Evan lies, expression giving absolutely nothing away. Really, if Barty didn't already know the truth, he'd be inclined to believe him. "It's got nothing to do with that. I like boxing."
Barty huffs, the noise filled with amusement. "Sure you do, Rosie."
"I really do," Evan insists, always so ridiculously stubborn.
"I don't know who you're trying to convince, but—"
"Teach me to fight."
Barty sputters, brows almost reaching his hairline, and he gapes at Evan, who's still staring at him. He seems unaffacted by Barty's dramatics, but then again, he's unaffected by almost everything.
"The fuck?" he manages to spit out at some point.
"Teach me to fight," Evan says again, a lot slower, as if Barty is some kind of idiot. God, he wans to fucking devour him.
Barty isn't sure of what's going on right now. Evan barely interacts with him outside of their appointments, it's always him reaching out, so he doesn't understand what prompted this. What Evan is hoping to achieve.
"Why?"
"I told you, I like boxing."
"Yeah, okay. And the real reason?"
Evan's tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, and it's so, so hard for Barty, not to make a very inappropriate joke.
"I'm testing something," he admits, albeit bedgrugingly.
"Ah, so you want me to be your guinea pig," Barty sighs a bit dreamily. "That sounds more like it."
"Sure," Evan agrees with unsurprising ease. "Will you?"
"All you had to do was ask, Rosie."
They get to work right after that. Barty doesn't even bother with suggesting a change of clothes, because he's aware of how well that'd be received. The fact that Evan chooses to take the white coat off is already more than Barty expected.
He tries to show him how to stand, how to do a basic punch. Evan knows most of the basic theory, mostly due to how often he deals with boxing injuries, but he's absolutely helpless when he has to act it out himself.
It doesn't matter how often Barty corrects him; he keeps slouching, stance all wonky. He lacks strength, and he takes a bit too long to protect his face after doing a jab.
The main issue, though, is his obvious lack of interest.
Evan seems to be distracted by something, too inside his own head, and when Barty is about to point this out, poke some fun at him in hopes of getting Evan to snap, the other man speaks again.
"That's enough," he declares, tone leaving no place for argument. "Let's spar."
Barty chuckles, disbelieving, but then Evan is sending a glare his way, and he raises both hands in mock surrender, giving in immediately.
He'll do pretty much whatever the fuck Evan wants him to, really.
They both get into position, and regardless of how much Barty is holding back, trying to give the other man a chance, is actually kind of laughable, how easily he overcomes him.
One moment they're exchanging soft blows, and the next Barty has Evan pinned to the floor, his legs and arms completely immobilised as Barty grins maniacally from above.
"Happy now, Rosie?" he teases.
Evan presses his mouth in a tight line. "Not quite."
"Oh, really? Because I'm starting to think this was all a ruse to get me on top of you."
Evan rolls his eyes so hard Barty worries they might get stuck inside his skull. "I'm afraid that's more your style. And anyway, I don't think it's wise to understimate your opponent like this."
"It's nothing personal, Rosie, but when victory is already mine, I—"
Barty never gets to finish. Evan raises his head so quickly his brain barely registers it, and then he's sinking his teeth hard where Barty's neck meets his shoulder. Until he breaks skin, until he draws blood, until Barty lets out a pained groan and his body goes slack, more in surprise than actual hurt.
A moment later, their positions are reversed. Evan is straddling him, mouth still attached to his skin, and Barty is lying on the cold ground, dizzy and a little bit breathless.
He doesn't know how long they stay like this—definitely not enough—but after a while, Evan lets go and sits up a little, lips stained red. It's dripping down his chin, and when he parts his mouth a little, panting softly, Barty finds out that his teeth are also crimson with blood. With his blood.
Barty groans again.
"You're hard," Evan comments, painfully nonchalant. It's that same casualness he used the first time Barty had an erection during an appointment, after Evan had pulled at the stitches on his leg and stuck his fingers inside Barty's wound.
"Yeah," he breathes out, half-delirious. "Yeah, no shit."
Evan hums, cocking his head to the side, analytical gaze running up and down Barty's body and making him twitch in his pants. The fact that Evan can feel it right under him, between his legs, forces Barty to swallow down a moan.
Barty is about to say something incredibly stupid to maybe, hopefully, alleviate the tension, when Evan leans down once more; this time, slower, more careful.
He's prepared to feel the sting of a bite again, toes curling in excitement, but it never comes. Instead, there's something wet and tentative and soft lapping at the open wound, gathering all the blood there that is still coming out.
It takes Barty a moment to realise it's Evan's tongue.
The knowledge hits Barty like a motherfucking bus. He can't stop a low moan from coming out now, or his hips from thrusting up, searching for something, anything, that Evan might give him.
Surprisingly, and instead of pulling away, the other man makes an odd noise against his skin, and Barty thinks he's imagining it when Evan presses down on him.
He freezes up after that, but only for a second, Evan's licking never stopping. But then Barty moves again, more purposefully, rubbing his erection against the apex of Evan's thighs.
The response is immediate, although definitely unconscious. Evan grinds back experimentally, with no coordination or finesse, dropping another sound into Barty's bleeding wound.
His eyes widen when his brain finally catches up properly, hands coming up to grab at Evan's hips and halt his movements.
"Rosie, are you..." Barty stops, swallows harshly. "Are you turned on right now?"
Evan laps at the blood a few more times before straightening up again, staring down at Barty with unblinking eyes and red all over his face.
"Fuck, are you—?" A laugh, strained and bordering on hysterical. "Are you wet?" He doesn't even need to check to know the answer.
Evans nods, almost imperceptibly. "Apparently so."
He has half a mind to turn them over and fuck Evan into the floor. Until Evan is a whimpering mess. Until he's crying, begging, unable to do anything but fucking take it. Until he's sore, and hurt, and full, but still asking for more. Until he can't say anything else apart from Barty's name, until he's—
"Bloody hell," Barty whispers, shutting his eyes tight and letting out another cackle.
Oh, he's going to die. He's absolutely going to fucking die.
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✯my entry for the @croptopjames fest✯
jegulus | 1.3k | non-canon/magical au
summary:
It was revenge, they say, for a prank they played on the other houses. So if Lupin and Pettigrew got their trousers turn into shorts, and Black got his shirt turn into a crop top, then that means Potter— Great. Regulus is fucked.
“Did you hear what happened?”
“They say it was revenge for a prank on the other houses,”
“Seems like a weird way to take revenge,”
“Someone said it was a new statement for the dress code,”
“Of course those Gryffindors would come up with something like that,”
“Mila from my transfiguration class says someone charmed their clothes to transform into something else whenever they wear it. You know, trousers turn into shorts and—”
“Oh, so that’s why Lupin and Pettigrew were wearing shorts! But why was Black’s shirt cropped? Not that I mind the view but—”
“Maybe the spell worked in pairs? If Lupin and Pettigrew got shorts, and Black’s shirt was cropped, then maybe Potter got—”
But Regulus had heard enough.
He should’ve known something was off the moment he crossed Lupin and Pettigrew earlier that day wearing shorts of all things, but if he was completely honest with himself, his mind was somewhere else and didn’t even think twice about it. But now, after eavesdropping on a conversation of some sixth years, maybe he shouldn’t have been so dismissive.
Entering the Great Hall for lunch, Regulus makes a b-line for his seat at the end of the Slytherin table and starts filling his plate absentmindedly, trying to ignore the sight of his brother at the Gryffindor table, talking animatedly to Lupin and Pettigrew, still in those ridiculous clothes. His mind inevitably going to the person who’s conveniently, not among them.
The thing is, Regulus isn’t capable of thinking of a piece of clothing that would look bad on James Potter.
He has seen the guy practising on the Quidditch pitch for Salazar’s sake. He has had a front row of what James’ body looks like when he leans on his broom, quaffle in hand, gaining some speed over his fellow teammates. He has seen how his forearms look when he grips the handle hard and how his thighs squeeze the rear of the broom when he’s doing a particularly hard move so he doesn’t fall.
So no, he doesn't think there’s a piece of clothing that would look bad on him, he could pull any look, especially a crop top, and that is the problem, isn’t it?
Regulus could feel his cheeks warming at the thought. Oh no this is bad, what he’s going to do if he sees him wearing that? He’s going to make a fool of himself and he can’t afford that. No, Regulus needs to get the fuck out of there if he wants to make it with his dignity intact.
Practically stuffing his face, Regulus tries to be as quick as possible, cursing in his mind at the idiot who hexed James Potter to be stuck with that particular piece of clothing, or lack thereof, more like.
“Let it not be said that we don’t do anything nice for you, Regulus,” a voice comes from behind and Regulus freezes and then groans.
Looking up from his plate, he eyes the pair who has taken the seats in front of him, both looking smug as fuck, “You guys are unbelievable,”
Evan hums in agreement, “Aren’t we just?”
“Wasn’t a compliment,”
Barty tuts disapprovingly, stealing a piece of food from Regulus' plate and popping it in his mouth, “Why Regulus, we thought you would be thrilled by this, can’t believe you’re this ungrateful.”
“Crop tops, really?” He huffs, stabbing whatever is left of his chicken, “And don’t get me started on the shorts.”
“Those were my idea,” Evan mentions.
Regulus doesn’t get it, “Why though?”
“We couldn’t be so obvious and only hex Potter, we had to cover our traces,” Barty says, turning his head slightly to look at the Gryffindor table. “Besides, the others look ridiculous, minus your brother of course, the bastard is fit as fuck.”
“Why though?” Regulus repeats, this time even more aggravated at the notion of Barty ogling his brother.
Evan gives him a pointed look, “You know why,”
Regulus drop his gaze, sniffing lightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
Barty smirks at him, “You will,”
There’s a sudden ruckus at the entrance. The voices grow loud and you could hear some whistles here and there but what actually catches Regulus’ eyes when he looks up, is the man at the doors.
Something inside him is pleased to notice he was right about James looking good in any piece of clothing, especially something that would show his really fit body. James is looking a little dishevelled, but that only makes him look even prettier. Still enthralled by the sight of James Potter wearing something this sinful, Regulus notices a little too late a voice shouting really close to him, efficiently taking him out of his rivery.
“Looking good, Potter!”
“Barty!” Regulus hisses in embarrassment as James looks in his direction. And oh, the way he smiles at Regulus as soon as their eyes connect.
Regulus is incapable of doing much else under the intensity of that look, he wants to run like he had planned before. He wants to hide, not only from James but from the way he feels when he’s near. Pathetic as it is, the only thing Regulus is capable of doing is following James as he makes his way to the Slytherin table.
Regulus blinks hard at that. Wait, Slytherin table?
Before Regulus can process that, James is already standing right in front of him.
“Rosier, Crouch,” he greets them, still not taking his eyes off Regulus.
“Potter,” Barty nods in his direction. “Nice shirt, does it come in men’s?”
James grin turns sharp, “You don’t want me to answer that, Crouch,”
“Okay, time to go, have a great one!” Evan practically drags Barty aways as the latter cackles like a madman all the way out of the Great Hall.
When his laugh fades, James is still in front of Regulus and Regulus is purposefully looking at anything but his face, so his gaze inevitably fall at the only thing at his eye-level, James’ stomach.
There are beads of sweet running down over that beautiful golden skin and all Regulus wants, is to touch it to see if it’s as soft as it looks. Wondering how it would feel under his teeth.
James clears his throat to catch Regulus' attention. Unnecessary, since he hasn’t lost it the moment he entered the Great Hall.
“So, Regulus,” he starts.
“Yes?” He can see the trail of hair disappearing under the navy trousers. He’s having a hard time not to reach out and touch it.
He’s being so brave about this whole thing, someone should notified his mind-healer.
A beat of silence and then a hand, reaching for his chin and turning his face up, callous fingers against his soft skin. The sight of James’ playful smile makes something inside him melt.
“My eyes are up here, love.”
His cheeks get warmer out of the embarrassment of being caught. Not that he was subtle in the least but still, embarrassing.
James doesn’t seem to mind in the least.
“You’re blushing,” he notices.
Regulus' face is practically red at this point.
“Shut up,” he grumbles and James chuckles.
“No, no, I like it,” he says, voice soft. “Red looks good on you,” and then he proceed to fucking caressing his cheek.
It’s settled then, Regulus is living inside a romantic novel where making a fool out of yourself in front of someone you fancy is necessary and crop tops are a thing.
“What do you want?”
“Just wanting to say hello,” James says, eyes softening. “Hello,”
“Hi,” Regulus says, like an idiot.
“Fancy a Quidditch game with me?”
Regulus frowns. “Right now?”
“Why not?”
“You’re not wearing the proper gear,”
James smirks, “I think I will manage,”
This is a bad idea, a terrible one and Regulus knows it, everyone knows it and yet— “Lead the way then,”
James lets his hand drop from his face, and it takes all of Regulus not to chase the touch, but the feeling of loss is quickly replaced with excitement when he sees James holding his hand up for Regulus to take.
Regulus does, of course he does.
Hand in hand, they make it to the Quidditch pitch.
Together.
145 notes · View notes
strangemaleswaps · 19 hours
Text
Strange Job Swap
“Oh it's beautiful!” exclaimed the customer waiting in line. I handed her a nicely decorated cake for her son's birthday.
“It's no big deal. Just doing my job.” I acted like it was no big deal, but really I was gladly accepting the praise!
“This is perfect though. Have you considered being an artist?” she replied with a slightly more serious look.
“Yes I have actually…but the job market is tough.”
“Aww you'll get there eventually! Don't give up! Well anyway, you made my day so for that, thank you!”
“You're welcome.” I was a bit sad though, because she was right; I SHOULD be an artist. I recently earned my bachelor's degree, but yet I was still stuck in this dumb hick town, working as a grocery store cake decorator. I may have been good at what I do but I wouldn't want to do it forever!
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At least my co-workers are pretty decent, especially my fellow bakery buddies, Chase, Amber, and Domingo. Amber was cool and didn't take anyone’s shit, which is why I loved seeing her because I didn't have much confidence when dealing with unruly customers. Domingo was very sweet, and even though he didn't speak very good English, he's hella good at his job. And Chase, well…he's hot! His bleach blond hair somehow always caught the light at a perfect angle. I don't know how I even kept my focus when he's working next to me.
At the end of my shift, I clocked out, and decided to buy a couple groceries like I normally did. I scanned everything at the self-checkout, put the receipt into one of my bags, and started walking towards the exit. The store had 2 exits on either side of the front, but I only took one because the other had a certain asshole at it - Richard.
The greeter position was removed a long time ago, but they bring it back for employees that have been injured or are too old, so that they can keep their jobs. Now this old guy named Richard had surgery a long time ago and became the greeter while he recovered. But yet he never went back to his old position.
He always stays at one specific entrance, and the reason I hated him so much was because he's racist. Part of his job has him checking customers’ receipts to make sure they didn't steal anything, which seems pretty unnecessary when you have those anti-theft machines at the exit. But I've seen him. The only people he checks the receipts for are minorities. It's not a subtle thing either; he’s super friendly, greeting and saying goodbye to all the white people passing but when it comes to someone who's not, his demeanor suddenly changes. 
My luck must've run out today, because I found the sliding glass doors at my usual exit were broken and currently being fixed. The area was blocked off by a barricade, and I knew there was only one other way to leave. I headed over to the other exit, and there Richard was, waving goodbye to a white mother and her toddler. He was wearing his typical gray uniform shirt that was clearly too small, because you could see his gut and nipples trying to poke through. Gross.
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I moved through the aisle, trying not to draw attention to myself, but it was all for nothing because right on cue, Richard walked up to me and gave a great big (and so obviously fake) smile.
“Hello sir, can I see your receipt please?”
“Richard, it's me, Marco. I work in the bakery. You've seen me a million times before.” His smile suddenly faded, and his eyes narrowed, as if every ounce of happiness in his body just vanished.
“That's no excuse. How do I know you aren't stealing?”
“Because I want to keep my job?”
“Don't backtalk to me. You seem awfully suspicious today.” He then reached for his walkie talkie and started to page a manager. I really was able to walk out with no repercussions because I truly didn't steal anything, but there's a chance he would page the Asset Protection lady, who was almost as awful.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” Nobody answered him. Thank god.
“Am I free to go now?” I said happily. The anger returned to his face.
“Just don't let me catch you stealing again. Or there'll be consequences!”
“Yeah…suuuure.” I walked out the door, into my car, and back home. I can't believe some people honestly. I was so sick of this town! I needed to move away real soon.
When I got home my dog, Kenny, was excited to greet me as usual so I let him outside to do his business while I got into my running clothes, prepping for a run. As I let Kenny back in, I went to check the mail and found a weird envelope in between the bills and spam. I opened it up and it was a letter addressed “to whom it may concern”. I threw it away without a second thought but Kenny suddenly ran up to the trash can, took it out, and placed it back in front of me.
“You really want me to read this, don't you boy?” I said cheerily as I patted him on the head.
“To whom it may concern,
Are you struggling with your current job? Unhappy with the life you have? Well I have just the cure for that! We are now selling happiness inducing coins for only $1 with free shipping! One flip of this coin will guarantee you will soon get a job you love! Get it fast before it all runs out! Just follow the link on the back of this letter if you are interested.” - VV
I wondered who or what VV was supposed to be, and $1 with free shipping sounds too good to be true, so this seemed like a scam. I also wasn't a superstitious person,  but for some reason my gut was telling me that this was a good idea. Kenny seemed to think so too as he was wagging his tail under the table and I read. I followed the link listed on the back of the page, typing in each random letter and number combination into my phone and ordered the lucky coin. I went to bed that night feeling a little more hopeful.
The next day at work was just like the previous day, only the door was fixed so I didn't have to walk out the exit Richard was standing at. We did make eye contact though, and he shot me a dirty look. I got home to find that the package had already arrived, which was awfully quick. I cut open the box and inside was a golden coin with a picture of a brain on it. The other side had a picture of a person with their arms spread wide. It was a really weird design. I read the instructions.
How to use:
Flip the coin
No matter what side it lands on, you'll be guaranteed happiness in your new job!
It sounded so lame, but I followed the instructions anyway. I flipped the coin the air, and slapped it on the back of my other hand. Tails. Nothing happened. I guess it was just $1 so it wasn't a huge waste of my time. It's pretty cool looking so maybe I could display it on my dresser or something.
I felt especially tired the rest of the night, but I was fine because I had a day off tomorrow. I was gonna go to the park with Kenny, as well as do a few errands. I was just glad I had time away from my job.
The next morning my alarm went off for some reason. I must've accidently set it by mistake. The weirder thing was Kenny wasn't there. Normally at the sound of my alarm, he comes running from wherever he was sleeping, and jumps on the bed to get me up. But there was nothing. When I started to truly wake up and become more alert, I realized that my alarm was set to the default or something. Instead of my usual calming piano, it was an annoying ringing. I opened my eyes to see what was happening. My vision was blurry, but I could tell I wasn't in my own room.
What happened? Did someone kidnap me? The alarm clock wasn't even on a phone, but rather it was an actual alarm clock. I had no idea what was going on, but I reached over to turn it off so I could think. I'm certain I must've been kidnapped somehow but why? And why would they set an alarm clock? I couldn't see but felt around the nightstand for a clue and found a pair of glasses. When I tried them on, just like that, my vision returned to normal. I had perfect vision before! Why did I suddenly need glasses? I reached up to scratch my head and found my hairline was incredibly receded. I was balding! I looked down with my now clear vision to find an even worse fact. I was chubby!
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I sat up and stared at the foreign gut and two large man tits, as well as numerous graying chest hairs. I ran my hands through the hair, pinching them to make sure they were real. I pinched the tits as well, and felt sensations I've never felt before as they wobbled when I let go. I ran my hands through my face and felt a mustache and double chin, and began feeling nauseous at the thought of what I actually looked like. I didn't see a mirror in the room so I walked out the door trying to find a bathroom. The fat jiggled all around as I ran.
I got to the bathroom and nearly puked on the spot when I saw who I was. Richard. Oh god no. Of all people, I had to look like this racist bastard? I stared at myself and grazed my hands along my face. Suddenly I felt angry and started pinching it instead, as if I was doing the same thing to the real Richard, but denial didn't help; that was my face and it hurt. I touched his mustache and pinched it, as if it would come off. 
Just then I heard the doorbell ring. I didn't want to interact with anybody looking like this but until I figured out how to fix it, I knew I had to pretend to be Richard. I answered the door to find the mailman.
“Howdy Rich! Woah uh.” He stared at my chest. I forgot I was still shirtless. Having this much fat hanging from my body was almost like answering the door naked. “I see you've lost some weight!” he said, obviously lying.
“Oh uh, thanks.” I replied, trying to imitate Richard’s voice, which was pretty easy considering I've mocked him before.
“Well anyway, not much today; just a letter.” He handed me a letter with a purple stamp on it.
“Well uh see you tomorrow!” The mailman went on his way and I closed the door. I opened the letter and found a note similar to the lucky coin advertisement.
To whom it may concern,
Good morning! I trust that your lucky coin worked well? Welcome to your new life! As promised, you now have a job that you love. Unhappy with the results? Just flip the coin once again, and make sure it lands on what it landed on before! If not, however, your fate is sealed. Best Wishes! - VV, Venefica Viola
Shit. They're not lying though. Richard did love his job. And since I was in his body, I now had that job! But who is this Venefica Viola? It sounded like Latin somehow. I walked back to the bedroom to find Richard’s phone. Luckily he didn't have any lock screen pin so I could easily get in. I searched for a translator, dodging the random pop up ads that were everywhere on his phone and looked up Venefica Viola.
Violet Witch. So magic is involved somehow. I needed to get my coin back so I could undo this! It must still be at my own house. Shit! I just realized why the alarm clock went off. Richard worked today! He had perfect attendance and never uses his PTO, so not going in was gonna look suspicious. I glanced at the clock and realized I only had 20 minutes. 
Even though I'd love to see Richard be humiliated by going to work in his underwear, I decided that it wasn't worth attracting attention so I looked through his clothes to put on a work uniform. I found a pair of boxers and accidently flashed myself when I completely forgot I didn't have my own dick either. It was all wrinkly, but honestly a lot bigger than I thought. No. I was not about to get horny over Richard's dick! I found what he normally wore to work and put the rest on. I found tucking the shirt was more difficult than usual, as I had to pull it over my belly.
I guess I could make this work…for now. I hated to admit it, but Richard wasn't all that bad looking. It was his personality and habits that made him so repulsive, but now that I was in control of him, he didn't look all that bad. Maybe I could even turn things around for now and do something nice for the people I know he hates. I grabbed the car keys on the nearby table, and drove to work.
I walked in the store, put Richard's nametag on, and clocked in. I nearly started walking to the bakery area but stopped myself. I guess I'm really going to have to be a greeter for a day. This feels humiliating. I made my way to the front entrance and just stood there, waiting for customers to enter or exit.
Soon enough customers began arriving and I tried my best to act like Richard, though one customer asked if I was all right because I guess I overdid it. I didn't ask any customers to show their receipts though, because I might as well take advantage of being a greeter. I noticed Domingo at the checkout and when he bagged up his groceries, he approached me first instead of the door. He hastily grabbed his receipt and started showing it to me. I wasn't about to let this happen.
“No no it's ok. You don't have to show me the receipt anymore.”
“No?” He looked shocked.
“Checking receipts is stupid anyway. I don't need to do it anymore.”
“Really? I can go?”
“Yep! Have a good day.” It was unnerving seeing him so scared at the sight of me, but he smiled like normally did as he put the receipt back in the bag and walked out.
As I moved towards the break room to take my break, I noticed someone who looked awfully familiar walk through the door. It was…me! I mean Richard. It must've been; if I was in his body, he must've been in mine. It became more obvious by the way he was walking, taking big steps as if he was used to having his gut swinging around…like mine was now. God I hated this. I had to talk to him to sort things out. He smirked as I approached.
“Hey!”
“Oh it's you. I mean me. I mean,” he paused for a second and rounded his mouth into an even bigger smile, which looked uncanny with my face. “The old me.”
“What do you mean ‘the old you’”?
“Well seeing as I'm much younger now, while you're much older, I think the term is appropriate.”
“Well yeah, but not for long. I'm going to switch us back.”
“Oh no you're not! I may have preferred being white, but I’m enjoying youth again! Oh, and don't worry. I saw that coin thing and that letter this morning, and I made sure it would never see the light of day again. You got that…Richard?” 
He called me that in the same mocking tone that I always use to call him. I can't believe this!
“Y-you can't do this! I had a future!”
“That's my future now old man. You know maybe I could be a model with these looks. Maybe make one of those, what do you kids call it? OnlyFans?”
God no, I'm an artist, not a pornstar. He can't do this!
“The greeter is a real fun job, Richard. Enjoy it. You're hired!”
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utterlyotterlyx · 19 hours
Note
Hiii <3 Could you do number 4 from the prompt list with Eris? It's my first time asking for a prompt or anything so i hope this isn't rude. 😅
Aw my loveeeee it isn't rude! Request your little heart out <3
I've already done 4 but I'll do it again for you with a different spin on it.
Can't Keep My Hands To Myself
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Modern!Eris x Reader
Summary - It's no secret that Eris has always wanted you, and now he has the perfect excuse to get up close and personal.
Warnings - slight pining, some fluff, swearing, hand fetish
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The sun bounced off of the hood of Cassian's car, and if you looked closer you could have sworn you could see wisps of steam rising from the matte black finish.
Folding your arms over your chest, you huffed, already knowing what was coming as soon as you'd point out a certain problem.
It had been Elain's idea to go to the coast that day, mainly so that you could all go to the theme park that ran along the beach, all being yourself, Elain and Lucien, Nesta and Cassian, and Eris. The latter of which was leaning against the hood of Cassian's vehicle with a sly grin written on his lips, sunglasses low on his nose, and hands bundled into his pockets.
Eris Vanserra was the bane of your existence, the cocky son of some noble lord in England who had moved to your state for college and had set an unfortunate eye on you. The heir could have anyone he wanted, but he was too busy chasing you to notice.
Eris had crashed one too many of your dates, and when you had made it clear that he needed to stop being an alphahole, he would slyly quip that none of the men you allowed into your life deserved you. He would always show his face at Elain and Lucien's apartment when you were there, which made you certain that one of them, probably Lucien, was sending him updates whenever you would show up. Eris stuck to your side when the entire circle decided to go out, whether that be bowling or dinner, or even clubbing, Eris was always reluctant to leave your side.
Possessive bastard.
You had lost count of how many times exactly you had denied his advances. It wasn't that you weren't attracted to him, you'd be foolish not to be, but you didn't really fancy ensuing a relationship with a future lord, you quite liked your life the way it was.
You majored in architecture, you had always appreciated the beauty of buildings and landscapes, you had travelled Europe and spent weeks in Paris where you sketched and redesigned buildings until your heart was full and bursting with inspiration. There was nothing you couldn't create.
Life as a lady didn't appeal to you, but life as an architect travelling the world and creating masterpieces very much did.
So, you made it your mission to deter the heir in whatever way you could, from cold shoulders to harsh quips, but it only seemed to spur him on more.
Eris stood before you, red hair perfectly styled into pushed back waves, looking far too good in his black jeans and open collared black shirt, a thin chain hung around his neck which matched the bracelet on his wrist, rings littered his fingers and you found your gaze drifting to his hands, hands you had thought about often when you were alone. You imagined them running through your hair and pulling at it, you imagined them around your throat, you imagined his fingers drifting along your thighs and gripping the skin there.
It was so sinful how much you thought of Eris' hands.
The door opened behind you and you rolled your eyes at the Archeron sisters who walked ahead of both Cassian and Lucien, who both looked exhausted from their bickering already.
Unfurling your arms from your chest, you pulled down the edge of your tennis skirt and tucked in a loose section of the deep green polo you adorned, "About time," you told them, "I'm baking out here."
"I know a place that could cool you down," Eris drawled from behind you, and you turned your head slightly to see him at your shoulder, looking down on you with his usual longingly seductive eye, "You, me, the Swiss alps on skis."
"Sounds positively awful," you smiled sickly sweet at him before moving your attention elsewhere, "I also hate to state the obvious but there are only five seats in Cass' car, and there's six of us," you motioned between the circle you had all formed and shrugged.
"What if you-"
You held your hand up in front of Eris' face, shushing him into silence, "If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you."
Cassian threw his head back and laughed, a howling one that filled you with pride as he walked to the driver side of his car, "Hate to break it to you Princess, but you don't have a choice."
"Why me?! Surely it makes more sense for Elain and Lucien to cuddle up?"
Elain ticked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, flinging the passenger door open, "It's my birthday so no, plus Lucien injured his knee at baseball practice so he needs to be able to stretch it out. Sorry, Y/N," Elain wiggled her eyebrows at you and dipped into the car, no doubt securing her spot in the middle seat.
Scowling, you turned to Eris who had never looked happier, fluttering your eyes in annoyance, you pointed at him, "Don't get any ideas, Vanserra."
Eris threw his hands up in mock surrender but the smirk didn't leave his lips as he spoke, "Wouldn't dream of it, y/l/n."
It took you a few moments to become settled in his lap, and you cursed yourself for allowing yourself to be friends with bright and shiny Elain, if you hadn't then you wouldn't be sat on some heirs lap, nestled on his thighs like some kind of trophy.
As soon as you were comfortable, you propped your feet on Elain's lap which she was happy to hold since you drew the short straw, and you leaned back onto the doorframe, half on the body of the interior and half on Eris.
His scent was earthy, wafts of pine and freshly blown out matches, you knew he smelled good, but you didn't realise how much.
Eris draped one of his arms over your legs and the other around your waist, and you couldn't exactly bark at him to fuck off when they were the only two places that his hands could go. His fingers delicately danged off of your thighs, his fingertips lightly brushing against your skin with every bump in the road, the coolness of his bracelet clashing against the warmth of your skin.
If only his fingers could go a little higher, and just grab the flesh of your thigh...
No, y/n.
Elain had convinced the car to play a game, a game that you and Eris had quickly denied, you were both quite happy with the silence. That is until you felt him frown and lean over slightly to peer at something, his fingers drifted along the hem of your skirt and he lifted it slightly to take a peek.
Your gaze found him, his russet eyes darkened with intrigue, "I didn't know you had a tattoo," he hummed, allowing his eyes to trace along the swirls of black ink that created an arrangement of delicately drawn roses and geometric shapes that encased your entire hip.
Cassian's car hit a bump and you jolted on Eris' lap, his arms instinctively wrapped around you to keep you in place as your head hit the roof of the car, "Sorry, y/n. These roads are awful," Cassian apologised, one hand on the wheel and the other gripping Nesta's jeaned thigh, rubbing soft circles into the fabric whilst she idly read her book in the front passenger seat.
If that were you, your soul would no doubt be going feral.
Then you felt it, you felt his had travel from your waist to your unbound hair, he ran his fingertips along your scalp and rested his palm on the top of your head, "Are you okay?"
It took you a moment to reply, trying to control the shivers that spread in your soul like wildfire at his touch in the place you had dreamt of, "Yeah, 'm good," your tone was relaxed as he worked his fingertips into the crown of your head, kissing away any pain from the jolting force that had pushed against it.
"Do you like that?" Eris purred, and luckily no one was paying attention to either of you, Nesta was reading, Cassian was driving, and Elain and Lucien were looking out of the window of the travelling car talking about whatever animals they saw in the clouds.
"It might feel nice," you admitted bashfully, knowing you couldn't lie to the sly fox whose eyes always found you no matter how far apart you were in a room.
Eris let out a low hum, tilting his head to the side as his fingers slid from your scalp and rested on the back of your neck, "You're a touch starved little thing, aren't you?"
"No," it came out a little harder than what you had intended it to, but he wasn't wrong, especially when he was the reason that you were so touch starved and basking in his affection.
Eris chuckled, seeing straight through you as always, as his hand ghosted down your spine whilst his other found your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze, smirking as you wiggled on his lap, "Careful sweetheart, you have no idea how close I am to losing it," his voice was a rough whisper in your ear, he knew exactly what effect he had on you.
"I can't help it."
"I know, you have no idea the effect you have on me," his finger grazed down the earring that dangled against the curve of your jaw.
"Oh?"
Eris hummed, "One date, y/n. It's all I ask."
"Eris..."
His digits slipped between your thighs and he traced circles into the skin he found there, "Just one. Let me show you the life we can live together. Please?"
You weren't sure if it was his deep tone or his hands on your body that made your mind foggy, but he had convinced your head and heart to agree. Moving your head to meet his eye, you narrowed your own and pursed your lips, "Fine. One date. Make it worth my time, Vanserra."
Eris' whisky amber eyes glistened in the sunlight, "I think you forget how well I know you sweetheart. You're not a coffee date girl, or a movie date girl, you're not a hiker either. You're a dreamer, I see you all of the time looking at the stars, I see the heavens in your art, I see the sky in your eyes. I think I know the perfect way to make sure you never entertain anyone other than me."
The confidence he radiated made your thighs clench together, an act that didn't go unnoticed by him as his eyes darkened again with desire, he licked his lips, throwing his head back as you squirmed on his thighs again and did his best to suppress the moan bubbling in his throat.
"One chance, Vanserra. Make the most of it."
Eris straightened his posture and winked at you, letting his hands roam freely over your back and thighs, "One chance is all I need."
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Authors Note
Just a short little drabble - I did a 13 hour shift today and your girl is TIRED.
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elatedfool · 8 hours
Note
Hello hello! I really hope I am not coming at a bad time. I saw your requests are open and I've just been stuck in this brain rot with Jing Yuan x reader, where the reader belongs to some dragon species, has a tail and horns and all (can be Vidyadhara just to make things easier) and she's super jaded and strict, really about "business/work first, rest later" and he's trying to break through to her. Aaaaa, if this piques your interest in any way, can I please request some headcanons or a drabble for this where he finally bluntly confesses to her, something sweet/suggestive, tysm for your time!!💕 Take care!
OOOH this is so cute! ty nonnie <3 i'll try my best nd sorry for the wait (>人<;)
fem!reader, reader is bailu's caretaker/assistant, pining jy (are we surprised), reader has claws, open ended (reader doesn't accept him nor does she reject him)
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the first time he met you was probably when you're out chasing bailu when she escaped from the alchemy commission, passing by the seat of divine foresight with your tail dragged down the road, bouncing around with each step you took, and the sight instantly made jing yuan's heart jump in adoration, finding it so cute how your nose scrunched in annoyance when you, once again, lost track of the young girl, your tail swishing in anger as you prepare to march back home to report bailu's disappearance to the other vidyadharas.
ever since that day, he has been trying multiple escape attempts, and finally succeeded when yanqing is away to patrol the city. well, the little guy wouldn't have guessed that his general has started pining after centuries of solitude.
that is when the lieutenant calls for help from the master diviner, and yanqing lets out the loudest sigh ever when he spots the dozing general trying to pester you into taking a break with that default (*´ω`*) face he wears all the time, while you just continue with dealing with of some paperwork that bailu couldn't handle. really, if jing yuan isn't the great general and strategist who led a war for centuries and came out victorious, you would've slapped him with your scaly tail and flung him back to the divine foresight—but no, you can't do that.
"please," he begs, shifting his position closer towards you. he doesn't touch you though, seeing as you did not explicitly give him permission, "won't you take a break with me? i'm sure qingzu would not mind taking over my work for a while..." his low, velvety voice only serves to weaken the desire to punch him, as you start to take pity on the overworked man.
oh but unfortunately for him and not-so-fortunately for you, yanqing has begun to sprint towards jing yuan, with the latter immediately sensing the presence of his son subordinate and moving quickly to stand behind your chair. obviously it doesn't help him, his body is clearly larger than yours and yanqing immediately does his job to drag the now pouty grown-up home.
while he cannot go out anymore, jing yuan can still send you occasional letters and invitations for a tea. and when you refused due to your workload, he begins calling the invitations as 'official meetings' and smiles innocently when you came in to see him napping on his desk. he's really testing your patience, but you also cannot deny that he looks kind of cute like that...
"since you're already here, why don't you sit down and have some tea?"
you complied, and suddenly it's been over an hour since you start venting about your work to him—he makes you do this btw, for he loves hearing your melodious voice speaking about literally everything. it feels like you're lulling him to sleep and he fantasize about just how good it would feel to have you read him bedtime stories, plus having your clawed hands brushing strands of those fluffy hair out of his face, and laying his head on your lap... (๑>◡<๑) life could be dream fr) his daydreaming is forced into a halt when he realizes that he may have poured too much tea that it soaked his papers.
this visit continues for weeks, and jing yuan realized that you're starting to slack off—which is good news, because you were always working overtime and never got the chance to relax this much before, and as the leader of this fleet, he has to make sure all his people are happy and getting enough rest, right?
as for the confession...
on a quiet afternoon in his office, the three sacred words randomly flow out of his mouth, as if it's something spontaneous and natural for the both of you.
"i love you,"
he murmurs, like it was meant to be heard by no one, but it certainly doesn't go unnoticed by your sharp ears. then the general looks at you, a faint tint of pink decorating his cheeks as the realization dawns upon him, "was i too loud?"
"yeah..." you nod and look down, unsure of what to say. how does one respond to a love declaration? you never get taught about love and affection, having spent most of your life studying and working, striving to be the perfect example of a vidyadhara.
a low but hearty laugh escapes his mouth, "looks like your tail is betraying you," he points out, watching the rough yet shiny scales glimmer under the office's light as it sways from side to side. ah, everything about you is just so mesmerizing to him.
your breath hitched as you glance back, catching your tail and hugging it close to your chest to save yourself from humiliation. what a nuisance, you think, but to the general sitting across from you, it was the most adorable thing he's ever seen aside from mimi's tender paws.
"i apologize for being sudden..." jing yuan tries to break the ice, his hand slowly moving closer to yours, "you don't have to accept my love," despite his words, he really, really hopes that you'd want to return the feelings. he'll be in shambles if you were to reject him.
this was a rare moment from him, to see the general so flustered and unsure. so, what do you say? will you gave the touchstarved man the love he deserves?
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frannyzooey · 3 days
Text
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On The Green: 2
Ezra x f!reader
Rating: M (corpses, harvesting violence) will be E in later chapters ❤️
a/n: thank you endlessly to @the-scandalorian who lent me her big beautiful beta brain, to @bageldaddy who made me blush with pride and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed my Ezra nerves by checking this dialogue like the queen she is ❤️
Series Masterlist
You know he’s waiting for you to speak, but you…can’t.
He takes his helmet off, and you can see his features more clearly. His skin has a ruddy look to it, like it’s been days since he’s last bathed or eaten well, or gotten a decent sleep. He looks older, more weary without the reflective dome hiding the finer lines of his tired features – but still, no less intimidating. 
He looks rougher, his sharp eyes darker and more assessing. 
Your eyes make a slow circuit between his hand, which still loosely holds a weapon, and his dead partner. 
There is no deal to be made here. Not for you, and you know it. 
“Kevva waits, girl.” The sharp snap of his words brings your attention back to his face. He looks impatient. “You ready to talk about that deal?”
You swallow against the dryness in your throat, trying hard to fight against the sinking feeling in your chest. “What do you want.” 
It comes out more of a defeated statement than a question, and he studies you for a moment. 
“To be perfectly candid, I am in need of transit.”
You stare at him blankly, and he sighs with impatience. 
“I want your ship,” he states plainly. “However, I am not suggesting to leave you stranded if that’s what you’re thinking. As I find myself lacking….” He glances over at his dead partner for a moment. “I am generously proposing we join forces. Protection, for transport.”
“Protection?” you spit. “You gonna protect me as a partner like you did him?”
“He needed no protection, I can assure you that,” he huffs wryly. “But you?” He pauses in his speech, narrowing his gaze. “What is your plan here, anyway?”
Trying to appear like you have one, you steady your voice. “I’m here to dig.”
He laughs as if your statement is absurd. “I find myself disinclined to believe that, but let’s pretend for a moment that is the case. You dig. What then?”
“I’ll repair my ship and be on my way. Home, with something to sell when I get back.”
“And who is going to help you repair your ship?” he mocks. “You know how to do that too?” His eyes drift to your father’s lifeless form. “Seems your partner is out of commission. I think perhaps he was the mechanic?”
“He wasn’t my partner, I told you.” The corner he’s got you backed in displays plainly on your face. You shift your jaw, looking away. “I’ll find someone to help me. Someone –”
“A girl like you?” he interrupts, raising his eyebrows. “You wander into a camp of fringely mercs, raw, at the end of their tour, what happens? You appeal to their sympathies?” He shakes his head. “They have none. They are ruthless profiteers. You must have something to offer or they will find something to take from you.”
The emphasis he puts on the last few words makes his implication clear, and panic creeps into your limbs. 
“We’re in the same trough, you and I. Can’t say I was pleased to find your mare all black and cockways as she was supposed to be my redemption as well,” he muses, looking around at the poor state of the pod. “But I know how to fix her up. I can help you.”
He seems sincere enough in his offer, but everything he’s done thus far shows you his supposed sincerity means absolutely nothing. 
“I want someone else.” A childish statement, but the truth.
“Well I want a lot of things too, little bird.” He looks almost regretful for a moment, before leveling you with his gaze. ”Starting with your ship.”
Your mind still stuck on what he said about the other mercs on this planet, you wonder what’s stopping him from doing the same. 
“They will find something to take from you.”
Will he?
You could try to go it alone, but your first fucking hour alone on this planet has been nightmare enough to dissuade you from that course of action. If he doesn’t kill you to get this ship, the next person will. If he found you, others will, too. 
You think, buying yourself some time. 
“It’s clear you don’t belong here, little bird. I’m your safest route home,” he argues. “That is the goal, right?”
You bring your eyes back to him, wary and he seems to recognize something in your expression. When he slowly steps forward like he’s approaching a wild animal, you scoot back. 
“Hey,” his tone softens. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re no threat to me, a fragile little thing like you. Anyone else would have killed you outright by now, I promise you that. You have a functioning ship – a rarity in these parts. I can help you protect it.”
“Only because you want to use it,” you sneer, and the edge of his lips lift. 
“Of course,” he replies. “I’m not foolish enough to offer my services for nothing. I promise you no harm if you promise me the same.”
“You killed your partner. Just now, right in front of me. What’s stopping you from doing the same to me?”
“I could have killed you a thousand different ways by now.” His voice slips into something lower, menacing yet truthful. “Like I said, you’re no threat to me. Besides, I think your ship would be better piloted by two, am I right?”
Seeing no way out, you deflate. 
And nod. 
“I need to hear you say it, little bird,” he tilts his head with a light scold. 
You glare up at him. “Yes. I accept.”
“Excellent!” he says, clapping his hands together, the sound making you jump. “First things first. Let’s move these bodies.”
The bodies.
Forgetting all about your new deal with a murderer, your stomach drops at the reminder of moving your dad’s body. 
“What’s your name, by the way?” The stranger grunts with exertion, lifting his partner’s feet to drag his body into a prone position. Crouching, he begins to pat the dead man’s pockets down. 
He’s callous about it, perfunctory. Not gentle in the slightest which makes sense since the man is dead, but still, there is something about the deft way he’s going through everything he had on him that makes it known that this is not the first time he’s done this. Not by a long shot. You wonder if it’s just from his experience on this planet, or an indicator of something larger.
“Mine’s Ezra, if you were wondering.” He gives a teasing glance, making note of your rudeness. 
When you don’t offer it, he merely shrugs. “S’okay if you don’t wanna tell me. I understand your apprehension. But I’ll have to call you something.” He seems to ponder for a moment, placing loose items he’s deemed useful in a pile by the man’s hip. “Since you came down from out of the sky, I would say “Birdie” is a suitable choice.”
You pull a face he doesn’t see, and then he’s moving the belongings to the side, making a clear path to the door of the pod. When his eyes shift to rest on your dad’s body, a sudden urge flares within you to stop him.
“He got anything useful on him?” Ezra’s chin jerks towards it. 
On instinct, you follow his gaze, immediately regretting it. You turn away in revulsion, the pooled blood a dark, congealed mass that sticks in your vision. Closing your eyes, you shake your head with a tight movement. “I don’t think he had anything on him besides his, uh…drops. Everything else is here in the pod.”
If he wonders what you mean by “drops,” he doesn’t ask. Instead, he approaches the body and glancing back, frowns at your hesitant expression.
“Look. You don’t—” he sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His voice lowers. “I’ll need your help with the big guy, but I can do this one by myself.”
“No,” you protest, forcing yourself to move forward. You can still taste bile, sharp on your tongue. “I should be the one—”
He puts his hand on your arm, shaking his head. “No,” he says kindly, but firm. “You shouldn’t be. A girl shouldn’t have to put her own father in the ground.” He steps around you gently. “Tell you what. Why don’t you head outside and keep watch, little bird. Let me know if you see anyone coming. Make no mistake, there will be scavengers looking for the same opportunity I was, and we’ve got to protect our only means of escaping this planet.”
He gathers your helmet to place in your hands, checking your filters are connected and charged. 
In your hurry to get out of the pod and away from the body, you’re already sealing your helmet into place when he snatches the thrower off the floor.
“Hey,” he calls out sharply, just as you’re about to step out of the hatch. He thrusts the weapon towards you. “Don’t forget your thrower. Armed. Always armed here. Understood?” His gaze holds yours in weighted significance. 
You nod, taking it from his outstretched hand. “Okay.”
Opening the hatch, you step outside for the first time. 
Everything is green. The brush, the trees, the sky–all varying shades of the color. Dust floats through the air; aimless, toxic, suffocating. You wonder how long you would last if you took your helmet off. Studying the lush, towering trees, your eyes follow the paths of thick vines that both climb up the trunks and spill over the dark soil, coming to rest on the soft dirt that your boots sink into. You lift your foot and the imprint you leave behind is as clear as the two sets that lead from the edge of the forest to your pod. 
The footprints circle the pod, and your stomach lurches at the thought that they were circling without you even knowing. 
Resolutely keeping your back towards the ramp, you tighten your grip on your thrower and use the moment to take stock of your situation. Your father told you a couple of things about this planet: the air is toxic, the population is non-existent, and the main reason anyone comes is for the aurelac. An amber colored gem found within the bowels of pit sites, the price it can fetch is significant. His drops clutched tightly in his hand, he told you of a neglected site filled with treasure—a rumor, the Queen’s Lair–his eyes wild and clouded with liquid that made them shine with foolish hope. 
That’s it, though. No map left behind, no coordinates. No solid confirmation it even exists. He only brought you along because it would be dangerous to leave you completely orphaned for however long it took him, and to take advantage of your (limited) skills as a co-pilot. 
When you hear a heavy slide and a grunt behind you, you keep your eyes on the forest, scanning the trees. 
Nothing to offer the man who has offered you partnership, you wonder how long it’s going to take him to figure out you’re of no value. Completely useless, better off dead and out of the way. Your mind scrambles for leverage, and you’re still thinking when you feel a tap on the shoulder. 
Swinging around, you point your thrower – directly at Ezra’s chest. 
His hands fly up in surrender. 
“Steady now. It’s just me.”
He must have connected your comlinks because you can hear his words, low and slightly modulated through your helmet. Lowering your weapon and assuming he’s going to take it from you, you offer it up, but he waves it away, resting his hand on a pistol strapped to his hip. 
“Good to see you’re quick on the draw,” he smirks. He jerks his head towards the pod. “I need your help with the other one now.”
You glance over his shoulder towards the woods, trying to find a sign of your father’s body and his voice snaps your attention back to him. 
“Hey. Don’t…” he pauses. “Don’t. Say your goodbyes to the Green, girl, but don’t go lookin’. You don’t need to see that anymore.”
Surprised by the consideration in his statement, you follow him up the ramp. Inside the pod, he lifts under his former partner's arms. 
“Grab the feet – go ahead and push, while I pull.”
It takes ages getting the massive, limp body down and out, but eventually it’s rolled down the ramp with a thud. Ezra’s breathing sounds loud, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. 
“What you want to do is cover the body with rocks. Try to hide it, so as to not attract any attention. The locals, they –” he grunts, dragging the man towards the brush, “—they leave bodies out in the open, as part of their ritual to honor the memory but I think it’s rather–” he shoves the man down a slope, letting gravity do the work for him, “uncouth.”
Slowly descending down the slant of dirt, you follow behind him. Not used to an explanation following orders, you listen closely to his words. He gives you more context for his decisions than your father ever did, and you pocket every piece of information, eager for it all. Anything to help your survival in this place. 
With both your heads bent in task, he breaks the silence after a few moments. “What was your father here to harvest?”
Lifting a rock from the ground, you toss it in the general direction of the body. “Gems.”
Ezra huffs a laugh. “Most gems are long gone. Discovered and harvested during the rush.” He looks over at you from the corner of his eye. “Got any information on where he was hoping to find unfound riches?”
“If most gems have been harvested, what are you doing here?”
He laughs in delight. “Rapport, how I’ve missed it.”
You take note of the way he side steps your question. “He didn’t tell me.”
“What did he tell you about this place?”
Easy to talk to, charming and affable, you can see how easily he would wheedle information out of others. Unsure how much you should really be confiding in him, you decide less is better for now. 
“He didn’t tell me anything. Just that we were going to come here to dig – or rather, he was.”
“Nothing?” he asks, surprised. “He led you here, unprepared?”
You say nothing, and his expression turns more solemn. He shakes his head. “Foolish, keeping you in the dark like that. My own partner was more of a utility. Seems like your father treated you the same way.”
His statement hurts, though you try not to let it show. You shrug instead, watching your steps as you pick through the rocks. 
He gives you time to reply, and when you offer nothing up, he continues. “Did you ever want to learn how to dig? Harvest gems?” 
You don’t think you’ve ever been asked that question, and when you look up at him to find him looking at the ground, you can hear the smile he has on his face through the commlink when you don’t answer. He continues, “I stumped you, didn’t I.”
“I don’t…” you flounder. You’ve always had a distaste for the profession, spending your life around the seedy people who do it. However, it seems rude to say that outright to his face. “I’ve never really thought about it. It would be useful to learn, I guess.”
“Maybe,” he says. “Depends on what you want from this life. It’s a big world out there, Birdie. If you could have your pick, what would you do?”
“Go home.”
The words slip out before you can stop them, and though it’s such a small thing to ask in such an endless universe, he just nods like he understands. 
 –
The bodies taken care of, he leads you back to the pod and tells you to wait there for him. He’s got a camp close by – a tent, filled with his belongings – and while he’s gone collecting it, you clean the disorganized mess inside the pod. 
Go home. You don’t even know why you said that, there isn’t much of a home to go home to. This pod has been more of a home than anything else has; the only constant in your transient life. What you meant was some place that felt like a home. A comforting place, where you felt safe and wanted and cared for. The place itself didn’t really matter, more the feeling it represented. You had yet to find it, but you knew it wasn’t here. 
The metal cabinets that line the walls had burst open upon impact, so you take your time methodically putting everything right. Medical supplies, vac packs of food, your father’s harvesting tools. His case, with his initials stamped on it. His supply of chemicals, his various scalpels unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. You snap them carefully back into their case, and put them away. 
Then your things: your bedding, your sparse collection of clothing, your journal. Wrapping the bound book in a shirt, you tuck it into your pillowcase, hiding it. Your headphones appear undamaged, and you test them with a couple of the cassettes that lay scattered across the floor. The music flows through them uninterrupted, and for the first time today, you feel a small sliver of relief. 
You find his drops underneath his chair. 
The tiny brown vial with the stopper you’ve seen him hover above his eye a million times, you aren’t ready for the resentment and rage you feel as you hold it in your palm. You can’t remember a time when your father didn’t have them on him. Slices of time flash through your mind: the sight of his back as he left you for days on end, the slow, syrupy drag of his words when he mumbled after putting the drops in, the feverish need in his eyes as he slipped the bottle from his pocket to calm the trembling in his hands – right before an emergency sensor went off in the pod and everything went to hell. 
The urge to crush it underneath your boot or take it outside and smash it against a tree flares bright, and a scream builds at the base of your throat. 
In your mind, you let it out. In real life, you tuck the bottle into a cabinet and shut the door. 
A signal agreed upon when he left, you know Ezra is back when he knocks rhythmically before entering. Busy scrubbing the dash clean, you’re going over the blood spots for the third time. You can’t see them anymore, but you still feel them there.  
“Got everything,” he states, removing his helmet. Tossing it on the ground, he rakes his fingers through his sweat damp curls with a sigh. “Quite the load to carry back. I’ll need space within your vessel to store my things.”
He steps towards a cabinet, and you stand, alarmed.
“Wait. You’re staying in here? With me? I thought you said you have a tent.”
He ignores the way your voice gets higher and tighter with every word, opening a door to peer inside. “I do, but it would be foolish to separate. If you’re opposed to discomfort, then you never had any business being on the Green, girl.”
It wasn’t my choice, you want to scream at him, but you hold your tongue. 
“Can’t you sleep outside in front of the hatch? To make sure no one gets in?”
He shakes his head, opening another cabinet. He rifles through your medical supplies, impressed. “This beauty really is fully stocked, isn’t she? No wonder I thought she’d be my redemption. Riches beyond belief hidden within her unassuming depths.”
He’s murmuring more to himself than anyone, and annoyance begins to simmer at the careless way he’s putting your freshly organized things back. You’re just about to repeat yourself when he closes the door and turns to you. 
“It won’t do to sleep outside. I need to protect this pod just as much as I need to watch over you.”
He opens another cabinet, and your cassettes spill out with a slide. 
“What are these?” he asks, already bending to pick one up. 
“Don’t worry about it.” Snatching it from his hand, you kneel down to gather them up. Huffing with frustration, you cram them back into their storage and shut the door quickly. 
He watches it all, his jaw shifting in thought. 
“Look,” he ventures. “I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s gonna be a long couple of months if you don’t trust me.”
You say nothing, and he sighs. 
“A good partnership is only made so by candid discourse.”
He’s right. You know he’s right, and yet you don’t have it in you to acknowledge it out loud. How he expects you trust him you truly don’t know, and yet in the hours since you’ve met him, he has shown you kindness. A partnership offer when you don’t deserve it, protection against his former partner, burying your father for you. Whether that kindness is real or a ruse to have you lower your defenses, you don’t know. 
Either way, you don’t really have a choice. 
“There are a couple of spare storage bins over there,” you gesture at the corner, defeated. “You can put your things in there.”
“My sincerest thanks,” he replies with a slip of sarcasm, and turning back to your cleaning, you roll your eyes. 
“I need to protect this pod just as much as I need to watch over you.”
The words repeat on a loop in your mind; your body shifting on the stiff cot. His presence in the small space feels foreign, your body hyper aware of it. You’ve never slept in this pod with anyone but your father. 
Your father. 
You wait for the grief to come, but when it doesn’t, you blame shock. The alternative would be to think about how you feel nothing, which, what kind of a daughter loses her father and feels nothing? Tendrils of shame seep through your thoughts, and you roll away from Ezra as if he can see into your mind. Your back facing him, you try to shut him out, focusing instead on the moon outside the window. 
It’s full, high and clear above the horizon, suspended in the inky sky. Your eyes study the craters carved into the surface, and you take slow and steady breaths out, mimicking sleep. You wish you could slip your headphones on and drown out the tension that fills the small space, but you don’t want to leave yourself vulnerable like that. 
You hear him shuffle behind you, and your shoulders brace themselves with tension – but when he doesn’t make any other sound, you go back to watching the floating dust. 
Isolated, alone. No different than any of the other thousands of nights you’ve spent staring out at the moon while waiting for your father to come home. The weight of your situation compresses the air in your lungs, and you feel the sharp, hot sting of tears behind your eyes. Squeezing them shut, you will them away. 
You won’t cry in here with him. You won’t. 
Both resentfully frustrated with his presence and deep down, grateful for it, you cross your arms tight across your chest and squeeze. Pouring all your emotions into the pocket of your chest, you squeeze and you squeeze, soothing yourself. 
He shuffles around quietly behind you, getting comfortable on his own cot and you’re thinking it’s going to be a long night just before the weight of the day presses upon your eyelids. 
They flutter shut, and you fall into a dreamless sleep.
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supercorpkid · 2 days
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The Secret Life Of Lena Luthor
Supergirl. Lena Luthor x Reader!
Word Count: 2785.
Lena Luthor has a secret. Probably many of them, but there’s only one that bugs you so much.
Who are those friends of her? Why are they so tight that you feel like they are in some sort of cult? Why does it look like she would die for them? And how come they are always more important than you?
You see, the last one's been bothering you for a while now.
Some time last year.
The world is saved. Again. For the third time this month. And while Lena sits to celebrate with her friends/ teammates she is content. A kind of feeling she hasn’t experienced much before, but that’s been constant ever since the big fight. Ever since Lex is gone gone.
She looks at J’onn and M’gann reminiscing about something from their planet. Looks at Alex and Kelly swooning over something cute she is sure Esmé just did. Nia looks at Brainy as if he is the most interesting being and all of existence. All of them have somebody. Well, she looks at Kara alone. But Kara is never truly alone. She has Supergirl. All these people around her and the people she met in different universes.
But Lena? Outside of this room she barely has anyone. Sam, Ruby, Jess. She scrambles to find more names.
So Lena looks around, more certain than she’s ever been before. She needs someone. Someone outside this group of friends, so she can get back some sort of normality she most certainly lost since she discovered her witchy ancestry and joined the super friends for real.
And then Lena finds you. 
You run through the door of the Lena Luthor Foundation, and since she wants to be more hands on with everything, Lena is right there to see it.
“Do you, um, take strays?”
“Strays, ma’am?” The receptionist asks, raising one perfect eyebrow at you. “You mean like, cats?”
“What? No! I mean me.” You smile widely. “I mean, do you take walk-ins? Like, can I just walk in and find myself a station and start working?”
“Oh. Ah.” She looks around for help. Unsure of what to tell you. And because Lena herself is around, she jumps in to help.
“Hi.” Lena shows you her hand. “Lena Luthor. How can I help you,” she looks at both of your hands. No ring. “Miss?”
“Y/N.” You introduce yourself, shaking her hand. 
“You want to work on something?”
“Well, you see, I have this idea. It’s really bugging me and keeping me awake at night.” You point at your own face. “I’m sure you can tell. But I don’t have everything I need to work on it. It says online it’s what this foundation is for.”
“Well, we don’t work on everything. Our resources are vast but still limited. There’s a board. If you want to present your idea.” Lena suggests and you shake your head agreeing, then just like that you’re running out of there as fast as you came in. She looks back at the receptionist with a smile. “Strange little cat, that one.”
You don’t give her time to move on from you at all, when you run back in. A prototype in hand, and several loose papers on the other. 
“Ok, I’m ready.” You smile at her and she furrows her brows.
“Oh, I didn’t mean right now.”
“Please, ma’am. I need to sleep.” And to demonstrate, only one of your eyes blink. She seems to take pity on you.
“Well then, come in. Let’s see what I can do for you. And please, call me Lena.” 
And what she can do for you, is help you with every little thing you need help with. And what you can do for her, is help her see there’s more to life than work and a few friends.
Present days.
“You’re running off.” You mumble. Eyes still shut, voice thick with sleep. 
“Emergency. Sorry, my love.” You hear shuffling so you know she is getting ready to run off to her super secret, super important duties.
“What is it this time?” You finally open your eyes and watch her putting her clothes back on. “Kara got stuck on a tree and you have to go get her down?”
“Oh no, my pretty stray cat. I only climb trees to save your pretty butt.” She jokes, coming closer to kiss your lips. 
“Lena.” You beg when she moves away from you. “Please stay. Please wake up with me. Please let me make you eggs and a strong coffee.”
“That would be lovely.” You open your mouth to repeat, stay. But she knows it’s coming, so she speaks before you. “Can’t today. Rain check?”
You press your lips together, annoyed at her way to deal with this. But she doesn’t notice, because she’s already running out the door one shoe on, the other one still in hand.
“Have a great day, Lena.” 
You don’t want to be jealous of Kara. You’re not even the jealous type. But this whole ‘my friends call and I run out the door’ is not working anymore. Not that it ever did. But recently this has been bugging you extra hard.
And when things bug you this much, you can’t simply forget that easily. You can't even sleep on it.
"Heeey," Lena grabs the bags from your hands, giving you a quick kiss on your way inside. "glad you came, I felt bad leaving you this morning."
"Yeah." You place the rest of the bags on top of the counter. "Maybe we should talk about that."
"Definitely. But after a nice dinner, maybe?" She gives you a little smile, and you're quick to accept. 
The talk doesn't come right after dinner, when Lena climbs on your lap and you two start a heavy make out session, you decide it is better to wait a little. 
"Shit. Fuck." Lena says out of breath, parting your lips. You look down at your hands still on her waist.
"What? Already?" 
"No, not that." Lena laughs, and you notice something vibrating in her pants. 
"Oh," You raise your eyebrows playfully. "Someone's packing."
Lena takes her phone out of her pocket, and you roll your eyes at it. She reads the name, and starts apologizing right away. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She gets up looking at the phone.
"Are you serious?" You ask, but she is already answering her phone after mouthing one more 'sorry'.
"Kara, I'm in the middle of something really important. This better be a 10 or higher." She paces around the room and you watch her from your place on the couch. "Shit, ok. Ask Supergirl to come pick me up. Yeah, ok. See you soon."
Lena looks at you with pleading eyes, and you look up trying to hold the tears and the anger inside you. "Darling, I'm really sorry, but it's an –"
"Emergency." You complete her sentence and her face drops, looking at you.
"I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry. I know I did the exact same thing this morning…"
"This morning? Lena! You've been running off every time Kara called you ever since I've met you! I don't get it. What's up with all these emergencies? Why is Kara always more important than us?"
Supergirl's feet touch on the balcony and you hear a light tap on the balcony door. She looks embarrassed, like she heard more than she wanted to. She waves lightly and points to the city with her head, so Lena knows it's time to go.
"I promise I'll tell you everything, but I really have to go now."
“If you leave right now, you won’t find me here when you get back.”
“No, please Y/N. Please wait. I’ll tell you everything when I get home, I promise. Please stay, eat dessert, and make yourself at home. I promise I’ll be back soon.”
So you wait. An hour. Two hours. Three hours later and you’ve seen enough of television, eaten enough of her food and got tired of wasting everyone's time. It is clear Lena doesn't take you seriously and that you'll never be her first priority. So you leave.
It's only in the morning when you grab your phone to notice the missing calls and texts from your… girlfriend? Ex? You haven't decided yet. But if you're being honest things aren't looking too hot for her.
Lena has helped you many times before. You have no problem admitting you are where you are right now because of her. If your invention hadn't played out, you wouldn't have found a new job and you wouldn't be working on something you are very passionate about. 
But she means more than that to you. With Lena you can talk about anything. You can be your quirky self without any judgements. In fact, you always thought she seemed to appreciate it. Now, you're not so sure.
She's always hiding something. Always running off. One phone call and she is gone. No time to even tell you what she is running towards. You feel like you're dating someone who has a secret life. And you can't help but think you're the secret part. 
You're still finding energy to answer her latest text, when you hear the doorbell. You force yourself out of bed, and open the door to see Lena right on the other side.
You furrow your brows, "What are you wearing?"
Lena stares down at her outfit, a large hoodie and sweatpants. "I was fairly uncomfortable in my jeans and so Kara let me borrow something." She looks at the hem of the pants. "She is a lot taller."
"Glad you came to my house wearing some other girl's clothes." You make space for her, because you know she is not leaving and you don't want to have this conversation out in the open.
"It's Kara's." She justifies.
"Yeah, and who's Kara, exactly? Is she just your best friend? Is she your lover? Your dealer? Your boss? Why are you always running out the door when she calls?"
"Those are fair questions. Well, not the dealer and lover part. But I guess I should explain why I always go when she calls.”
You look at your coffee machine. It's too early for this conversation. For the truths you'll inevitably have to listen.
"Coffee?" You ask her, but it's mostly because you need it so badly.
"I'd die for a cup." 
You set up the coffee machine while Lena makes her way to the other side of the counter, sitting on one of the high stools to look at you. 
"I'm sorry I didn't come back home sooner." Lena starts, and you sigh.
"I stood there like a ghost and I don't even know why."
"I don't want to run off every time, it's just – Sometimes I'm the only one who can help so they call me." You stand there waiting for more, for an explanation. "I told Kara to only call me for real emergencies from now on."
"You know, you said a bunch of stuff, but you still haven't told me what kind of emergencies they need you for." 
You're not stupid, it's not like you haven't put two and two together. Supergirl shows up to pick up Lena right after Kara calls for an emergency? Yeah, like they have Supergirl on their speed dial so she can offer Lift services when one of them needs it. It's obvious Lena is a part of a group that helps National City or whatever. It was actually kind of obvious because every time she ran off for an 'emergency', you only had to turn on the news to see something crazy happening in town.
"I'm a part of the Superfriends." She bites her lower lip when you don't show any real reaction. "It's supposed to be a secret."
"Lena, Supergirl showed up at your house yesterday to give you a ride. It wasn't a well-kept secret, anyways."
"Wait, so. You knew?" Lena's voice comes out so shocked it's in a high pitch you have never heard before.
"Had my suspicions, sure." The conversation is briefly put to a stop while you pour coffee for both of you, but even before you have your first sip, Lena speaks.
"I don't understand why you are mad at me then. If you knew all along what I was doing, how could you be mad? How could you think Kara is something other than my friend?"
"Well, first of all, I had my suspicions, but not convictions because you never told me anything so I could've been completely off. And second of all, I didn't know all along. I had to go slowly piecing it together by myself because you wouldn't come out and be honest with me. And third, and most importantly, how can I not be mad when you left me high and dry at your place last night and ran off with Kara again?" 
"Nia was hurt! I had to go help out. How could I not have run out?"
"That's not what I'm saying. You don't get it, do you?" She doesn't. She looks at you so damn lost you know for sure she doesn't get it at all. "I'm not telling you shouldn't go help your friends. I'm asking you to just tell me about it. Don't tell me that you have to go because you have an emergency. Tell me Nia is hurt and I will tell you to go help her, I'll offer you my help. I not only won't be upset about you leaving, but I'll admire you even more."
You round the counter, looking at her with doe-eyes. 
"I'm tired of this double-life. It's like you're two different people. I – I don't know what to tell you, I just feel like I'm dating a CIA agent who's been lying to me about who she is. And it sucks."
Lena blinks. "I know." Because she didn't even realize what she was doing in the first place, but now that you have laid all on the table for her, it makes more sense than ever. She felt the same thing before and she can't believe she's been doing the same thing. "God, I know how you feel. And I'm sorry I kept you in the dark. You have every reason to be upset. Please forgive me. I promise I will be completely honest from now on."
"That's all I'm asking."
"Well," Lena looks at your coffee mug to see you didn't have much of it. "Why don't you drink some more? I feel like you'd have to be pretty awake for what I have to say next."
"Oh…kay?" You gulp on your coffee and look at her wide-eyed.
"Well, it's complicated. But, more than a year ago, before we met, I set out to find more things about my mother." Lena says and you agree with your head, because she has told you before all of her story and the fact that she lost her mom when she was younger. "It turns out that my mother was a witch."
"Huh?"
She takes a deep breath. "And so am I." 
"You're a what, now?"
"You wanted the whole truth." Lena smiles sheepish and you furrow your brows hard at your new discovery. Yep, you didn't see this one coming. Honestly, if she had told you Kara was Supergirl, you would've been a lot less surprised.
"I did, didn't I?" It's a lot to process, but you take one good look at Lena and you know it took everything in her to tell you this, and so, even though you don't truly understand what it means and what she does exactly, you know she needs support right now. "So my girlfriend is a witch and a genius and she is part of the Superfriends, and helps out with saving the world and stuff?"
"I guess you could put it like that." She says, tentatively.
"You're awesome, Lena. I'm happy you told me everything. It helps me understand you a lot better, and it only makes me love you more."
Lena's eyebrows raise and she can't help her surprised face, "You love me?"
"Yeah, I do. I love you."
"I love you too, my little stray cat."
You feel your worries melt away in the kiss and you're happy Lena trusts you enough to tell you about this other part of her life. It also feels good to know her secret and where she runs off to everytime. Plus, how did you get so lucky? She's hot, she's smart, she's a goddamn goddess and she also saves the world? She is more than you could ever dream, and you’re so glad she is yours.
44 notes · View notes
penaltyykill · 21 hours
Text
what if i never scratched another itch for the rest of my life? (part six) | john marino
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🔗 read all parts here
🎧 fic playlist
📓 3.2k words
📝 authors note: this was a wild one :) i love this story sm, writing it is so therapeutic for me after a long day, and everyone’s kind feedback has been so rewarding 🫶 also sry to my man holtzy getting caught in the crossfire on this one 🤭
⚠️ warnings: MDNI. 18+. smut, duh.
you waited a few minutes after john left your apartment to finally leave for work. you drove in silence to your office, so conveniently located above the devils practice rink. you sat at your desk and quietly answered a few emails there, before grabbing your laptop and heading downstairs.
you often sat in the cold metal stands of the practice rink with your computer or note pad, whether the boys were there or not. you liked the atmosphere and the creative inspiration it brought, the cold chill of the ice and the unmistakable smell that only ice rinks had.
but today, the team was indeed practicing, and by the time you walked in the majority of the athletes were already on the ice, running drills.
you spotted john out there, listening intently to his coach, looking stoic as he leaned on his stick against the boards. he looked so lost in thought, you wondered what he was thinking about, if he was even listening. he must have felt your stare because he turned his head and saw you, and smiled. you nodded back at him, your own little secret communication.
you felt a pang of hunger hit your stomach, all that coffee and no food was having an effect, and decided to go upstairs and grab some cereal from the communal office kitchen. as you lazily stepped off of the metal bleacher, the low heel of your boot got stuck between the two metal slats that made up the row of seats below you. you saw the floor coming at you quickly before the glimmer of a red jersey engulfed your entire vision. you grabbed onto someone’s arms to balance yourself and stop from falling.
you looked up at the taller figure, his light brown wavy hair more than peeking out of the sides of his white helmet.
“i got you,” alex holtz said grinning down at you.
he was still holding on to your arms firmly as you quickly dropped your own grasp on his own. his touch lingered a moment longer than necessary.
“thank you, but you can let go of me now, holtzy,” you said through a forced smile, embarrassed that he had caught you, and everyone on the ice seemed to have noticed.
he freed you from his hold and you immediately looked up to find john’s eyes on the rink. you saw him shooting daggers at alex, his gaze unbreaking from him as the younger man skated onto the ice. nate tapped john on his backside with his stick and laughed. you swear you saw john mouth, “shut up nate,” maybe with more expletives.
you walked out of the practice facility and up the stairs to your office, a mix of embarrassment, and something else stewing inside you. did nate know? does john talk about you? was it all so obvious?
***
come downstairs please
the text message from john read, a little after practice had ended.
i’m working, j
you sent back, and it was the truth. you had things to do to, social posts that needed to go up before that night’s game.
say you’re going on your lunch break
you looked at the clock, it was almost 12, so it was plausible. you were frustrated, more so with yourself, for being so under his spell, just when you thought you were finally taking some control.
coming.
you wrote back, throwing on your leather jacket and grabbing your laptop just in case you were gone longer than expected.
you saw him standing in the lobby of the practice rink as you came down the stairs. freshly showered, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie with his number on it, similar to the one you hadn’t returned to him just yet.
he looked around to make sure no one noticed the two of you, and said, “let’s go.”
he grabbed your forearm gently and led you out the doors, before you could protest. you followed him, of course you did, with no questions asked.
when you were finally in the parking lot, you asked him what was going on.
“bringing you home for a little bit,” he said nonchalantly to you.
“back to my apartment? why?” you asked him, confused.
“no, pretty girl, to mine,” he spoke, dangerously close to your ear before walking ahead and unlocking his black bmw that you were seeing for the first time.
it wasn’t flashy, but it certainly wasn’t modest. he opened the passenger side door for you and you sat down on the cold black leather interior. it smelled like him here, the scent enveloping you your senses as you closed your eyes briefly to breathe it in.
he got in and his hands gripped the wheel as he began to back out of his parking space. you couldn’t help but stare from the corner of your eye how his fingers look curled tightly around the steering wheel, how his sleeve was ever so slightly pushed up, and you could see a long vein trail out from it onto his wrist.
he didn’t notice, his eyes were on the road, but once he hit the familiar long stretch of highway, he reached his hand over and placed it gingerly on your thigh, lightly squeezing.
“everything okay?” you asked him. you genuinely weren’t sure where this afternoon was heading. his hand traveled up and down your thigh, tracing patterns on your tight black jeans, leaving you not being able to think about anything at all.
“more than okay,” he said, eyes still on the road.
he pulled into his upscale apartment’s garage, which was not too incredibly far from your own, you thought. you had probably driven past it dozens of times, not giving it a second thought.
you exited the car first and followed him into the marble coated lobby, where there was a doorman who greeted him with a smile and head nod. you suddenly felt a surge of insecurity. how many other girls had he led back to his place, how many had his doorman seen with him? did he think you were just another? you had no idea where these feelings were coming from, all of a sudden, you just wanted to be his, and his only.
maybe he sensed your tentative energy, because he pulled you close to him in the empty elevator up to his apartment, which was surely on one of the highest floors of this building.
he held you tightly from behind as he pressed kisses down your neck. you squirmed with pleasure under his touch, begging for the already fast elevator to move a little faster…
john led you across the doorstep of his apartment, you barely had a second to admire the lush surroundings before you were pinned against his entryway wall. john’s hands were firmly placed on both your forearms as he positioned your body between both of his legs and pushed you as close to the wall as you could go.
“baby,” he softly spoke in your ear, “what were you talking to holtz about before?”
you almost had whiplash from how you were taken aback not once but twice within the span of five seconds. the first being when he addressed you again as baby, it sent a surge of heat down your body as you wiggled beneath his grasp. the second, being confusion, why were we talking about his teammate right now. you noticed the familiar way john held your forearms was the same as how alex had caught you when you fell. you figured out his sick little game quite quickly after that realization.
“are you jealous, john marino?” you said back at him confidently.
he tightened his grip on your forearm, if it was just a tiny bit harder it would have hurt you.
“pretty baby, don’t be a brat, please tell me what you said to him.”
he had a knack for toeing the line between degradation and sweetness. the tension now between the two of you was something stronger than electricity. you chose your words carefully before speaking them.
“i was telling him to get his hands off of me,” you said through your long eyelashes up at him. he loosened his grip, only just.
“only i can touch you like this,” his voice was dark, raspy, almost a whisper, “okay?”
“is that right?” you quipped back, secretly relishing at the way he reacted when you said the opposite of what he wanted to hear.
your plan worked in your favor as he attached his mouth to your neck and sucked harshly, bruising your soft skin, leaving it purple when his lips left it.
you moaned directly in his ear and felt the bulge in his sweatpants straining against the cotton fabric. he briefly removed his hands from you as he slid off your jacket and dropped it to the floor unceremoniously.
“i need you to tell me something,” john said as he pulled your shirt up over your head and began harshly marking spots on your chest only he would be able to see, “why am i the only one who can touch you like this?”
the overstimulation you were feeling now was making your brain go fuzzy, you could hardly stand on your own. you calculated answers over and over in your head but it was all too much, the pressure of saying the right words left you speechless.
“mmm, johnny, tell me,” you pleaded, “tell me why, please.”
“because, baby,” and now he moved his mouth so it was just inches from your own, your gaze level with his as he angled his head down to meet your eyes, “you’re my girl.”
you swore your heart stopped beating as his mouth met yours and he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. you allowed it inside and you explored his now familiar lips, the delicious taste of him on your tongue.
he placed his hands behind your thighs and lifted you up. you wrapped your legs around his center as he carried you deeper into his large apartment. the floor to ceiling windows flooded the open space with afternoon sun as he placed you down atop his white marble kitchen countertop. you tugged on his curls as he continued to smash his lips into your own, his hands roaming all over your body, as if it was the last time he would ever touch you. you grabbed the hem of his sweatshirt and pulled it over his head along with the t shirt he wore underneath, needing him closer, longing to feel his hot skin on your own.
his fingers toyed with your pants button as he picked you up by the waist and stood you back onto the floor, against the counter top in front of him.
he unzipped your pants and pushed them down your legs, and you stepped out of them.
“turn around,” he commanded, and this time you were oh so eager to hang on his every word, you didn’t disobey him.
he ran his long, thick fingers between your legs and felt your still clothed core dripping with want for him.
“my girl is so soaked for me, aren’t i so lucky?” he cooed into your hair.
your now marked up chest was covered only by your black bra, so out of place now that your tits were barely contained in it, spilling out of the lace almost completely. you were pressed against the cold countertop as you felt his hand move your panties to the side to dip into your soaking folds. you couldn’t help but let out soft noises as he made his way to your aching clit, thumbing the bud until you bucked your hips hard back into his groin.
john’s touch briefly left you as he slid his own pants and tight boxers down his legs. his hands returned to sit on your hips as you felt his hard length pushed up against your ass. it had been too long since you’d last had him inside of you, you felt your pussy contracting at the proximity of his cock, so close to filling your hole so deeply.
he let out a deep breath and slid into you harshly with no warning, eliciting a loud moan from you. he quickly picked up speed as he held your hips in what felt like a vice grip, while he thrusted so hard in and out of your pussy.
“feel so— fuck, so fucking tight,” john was breathless as he drilled your needy hole so hard with his cock, “all for me.”
“i need it harder, baby,” you begged him and he pushed into you now with such force you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, from the pure painful pleasure his cock was bringing you.
you practically screamed his name, followed by more loud pretty sounds that escaped your lips.
“good girl,” he praised you, “let my neighbors know how good i’m fucking you.”
john continued at an alarmingly fast pace, you weren’t sure how much longer your legs could stand, they had begun to shake as you felt yourself begin to come undone in his grasp.
he started to kiss down your neck, his wet mouth now so, so, sloppy as he continued to rail into you. he hovered over your ear and brushed your hair behind it.
“who’s the only one who can fuck you like this?” he growled into your ear.
“you, johnny,” you said between the deafening sounds of the skin to skin contact, “only you.”
“that’s my girl,” he whispered as he picked up his pace one final time, his hands now firmly on your hips as he fucked into you hard. the physical sensation mixed with the emotional weight of his words was too much all at once, your legs felt like they were collapsing under you as you came hard on his cock, coating it in your glistening juices.
john made devastatingly beautiful sounds as he watched his cock slide in and out of you, now so coated with your slick desire.
“fuck, baby, i’m gonna cum for you,” john could hardly get the final words out before you felt his hot sticky release fill up your insides as he pumped one final time in and out of you.
you both stayed there for a moment, him still inside of you, cock throbbing with the euphoric release of his orgasm. he pulled out of you slowly and grabbed a towel out of a nearby kitchen drawer and cleaned you up, then himself before putting back on his underwear.
he spun you around to face him and placed a tender kiss to your lips.
“i meant what i said before,” he spoke so softly, now placing his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.
you studied the way his forehead gently creased when he looked down at your smaller frame. he was so handsome now, not only in his physicality, but with the gentle way he held you, how he made you feel. so safe, so wanted.
“i know you did, johnny, i know,” you told him as he ran his hands through your now tangled hair.
“my pretty girl, so perfect for me,” he didn’t break eye contact with you as he spoke, and you felt yourself melt into him further, like an ice cream cone left outside on a hot august afternoon.
he held you like that for a number of minutes you didn’t dare count, so soft and warm in his arms you didn’t want him to ever let go, before he finally broke the peaceful silence between the two of you.
“lay down with me before the game?” he asked you, his eyes so big now, not so subtly begging you not to leave him.
“i have work to do, john,” you softly answered before offering a solution, “but, i left my laptop in your car, if you go grab it for me i can stay and work here while you rest.”
john took you up on it, quickly throwing his pants and sweatshirt on over his bare chest as he grabbed his car keys and told you he’d be right back.
you grabbed john’s abandoned shirt and threw it on. you heard his heavy apartment door close. you finally had a moment to take in his space, as you walked his living room clad in just your panties and his t shirt. it was quite obvious a man lived here alone, it wasn’t messy, just a bit incoherent. you couldn’t blame john, you were sure he didn’t have time to play interior designer when he was on the road for half of the year.
you walked the dark hardwood floors to his bookshelf, filled with books of all types, you were impressed. next to the rows of novels and non-fictions were a few framed photos. him smiling with his family, some childhood photos of him and his brother, his harvard accolades.
you felt a little closer to him then, standing in his vast living room among his things, taking it all in, when suddenly john reappeared in his own doorway, your laptop in hand.
“got it,” he held it in the air with one hand, and passed you to travel down another long hallway. you followed him into his dark bedroom.
the blackout shades were drawn closed, and his unmade bed sat in the middle of the room atop a dark colored rug. there were a few articles of clothing strewn across the floor, but other than that it felt homey, lived in, it felt like john.
he removed his sweatshirt and crawled into his bed under the covers, placing your laptop next to him and motioning to you to join him.
you settled in next to him, and got under his blanket, immediately feeling the heat of his body next to yours and feeling so warm and cozy next to him. it would take everything in you not to fall asleep like this.
you sadly opened your laptop and placed it on your lap, as john placed his head on your shoulder to watch what you were doing. it was nothing that exciting.
“you’re so talented,” he said sleepily.
“oh, shut up,” you playfully nudged him with your leg under the blanket.
he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and you felt his breathing get considerably slower and his heartbeat settle at a relaxed pace, as he drifted into his nap.
you got your work done quickly, wanting to savor the moment the two of you were sharing.
you closed your laptop and placed it as far away you could from yourself on john’s giant king size bed.
he lay still nestled up close to you, his bare chest now freckled with a few drops of sweat. you traced down his neck, his collarbone, his tattooed ribs. that had to have been painful, you thought you’d ask him about it when he woke up.
there were a lot of things you wanted to ask him, things you wanted to know more about him, but you remembered there was more than enough time for that later.
he groaned in his sleep and shifted in bed, moving his body to cradle yours now, and you turned away from him and tucked your body into his.
you thought he was sleeping, his rough voice startling you when he spoke, “my pretty girl.”
and maybe, you thought as you fully came to the realization that you were his and his alone, this is was heaven felt like.
🕊️
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adiraargent · 12 hours
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your choso fic was absolutely ADORABLE oh my god, may i request an angsty choso x (preferably) fem reader who kinda has mommy issues? like she's not used to receiving this kind of love and affection from a person and she kinda gets emotional whenever choso expresses his love for her. if you don't feel comfy writing this please feel free to ignore! :3
I'm here for you - Choso Kamo
warnings: none, fluff, angst, mention of family issues wc 1.6k Thank you for the request <3 I hope you like it, if not lmk and I'll try again :)
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The day had been a relentless cascade of stress and anxiety, each passing hour feeling like a battle against the weight of the world. You trudged through the front door of your apartment, your shoulders heavy with the burden of the day's struggles. The soft click of the door closing behind you seemed to echo in the silence of the empty lounge room. You sighed softly, putting your bag down on the kitchen bench before trudging over to the fridge, pulling it open tiredly to grab the water jug out.
Choso, who had heard the front door click shut rushed out of the room, an excited grin on his face as he went to welcome you home. However always perceptive to your moods, he was quick to notice the weariness etched into every line of your face. His concern was palpable as he approached you, his eyes filled with a mixture of empathy and worry.
"Hey my love, are you okay?" Choso's voice was gentle, his tone laced with genuine concern as he reached out to touch your arm.
You mustered a weak smile, though it felt like an effort to even lift the corners of your lips. "I'm fine," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, though the words tasted bitter on your tongue.
Choso's gaze softened, his hand lingering on your arm as he studied your face. "You don't have to pretend with me," he said softly, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of your turmoil. "I can see it in your eyes."
"I'm fine Cho," you muttered, shrugging his hand off your arm so you could reach up into the medical cabinet to grab some Panadol.
The dam of emotions threatened to burst, the weight of your worries pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. You swallowed hard, trying to push aside the overwhelming tide threatening to consume you.
"What's wrong my love?" he whispered again softly, being careful not to push your boundaries.
"It's just... everything," you murmured, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken words. "Work, family... I feel like I'm drowning."
Choso's expression softened even further, his eyes filled with understanding as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "I'm here for you my sweet girl," he whispered, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of your storm. "Always."
You stiffened at the physical contact, still not used to it. You stood there, arms stuck to your side as you looked ahead, unsure of how to really react, the unfamiliar feeling of warmth around you causing an eruption in your stomach. You didn't know how to feel, the warmth from the hug felt so comforting... yet so unusual that it also mad you feel sick.
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you leaned into his embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of his presence. You tried to hold back your tears, the belief that it was wrong to cry deeply etched into your soul as your mothers harsh words and lectures remained prominent in your memory.
It was times like these when you were reminded of just how fortunate you were to have Choso by your side, his unwavering support a beacon of light in the darkness.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you buried your face in his chest, allowing yourself to finally let go of the facade you had been clinging to all day.
Choso held you close, his arms a safe haven in the midst of the storm raging within you. "You don't have to do anything alone darling," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I love you, and I'll always be here for you, no matter what."
In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Choso's love, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the weight of your burdens easing ever so slightly. And as you clung to him, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, heart to heart.
As you rested in Choso's embrace, the tension that had gripped your body slowly began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of tranquility that washed over you like a soothing balm. With each steady beat of his heart against your ear, you felt the jagged edges of your emotions begin to smooth out, the weight of the day's troubles dissipating into the ether.
"I know I don't say it enough, but I appreciate everything you do for me," you whispered, your voice barely above a hushed breath as you nuzzled closer to him, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace, "you're so patient with me... even after how I act and push you away..."
Choso's arms tightened around you, his touch a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions. "You don't have to thank me love," he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. "I love you, and I'll always be here for you, no matter what."
Those words, spoken with such sincerity and depth of feeling, stirred something deep within you, a wellspring of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you once more. "I know you had it rough growing up, and you didn't get the love that you deserved... but I'm here to show you just how important and special you really are. You mean everything to me."
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pulled back slightly, meeting Choso's gaze with a mixture of gratitude and love.
"I love you too, Choso," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you reached up to brush away the tears that lingered on your cheeks. "More than words can express."
Choso's eyes softened, his gaze filled with an unwavering devotion that took your breath away. Without a word, he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of the love and affection he held for you.
As you basked in the warmth of Choso's love, a sense of contentment washed over you, soothing the frayed edges of your soul. Wrapped in his arms, you felt a sense of safety and security that you had never known before, as if the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of serenity.
"Thank you," you murmured again against his lips, your words a whispered prayer of gratitude as you leaned into his touch, savoring the sensation of his lips against yours.
Choso smiled against your mouth, his fingers gently trailing down your spine in a tender caress. "There's no need to thank me, love," he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the room. "I meant what I said, I'm always going to be here for you."
His words were a soothing melody that washed over you, filling you with a sense of peace that you had never known before.
"I'm so so grateful that you found me," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you pressed your forehead against his, your eyes locked in a silent exchange of love and devotion.
Choso's eyes softened, his gaze filled with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.
The kiss was filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that lingered between you, a silent promise of love and commitment that bound you together in that moment. And as you melted into each other's embrace, you knew that you had found your home in Choso's arms.
But even as you clung to him, a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminded you of the scars that still lingered from your past, the wounds that ran deeper than any physical injury. You had spent so long building walls around your heart, guarding it against the pain and disappointment that seemed to follow you like a shadow. And now, with Choso by your side, those walls threatened to crumble, leaving you exposed and vulnerable once more.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, pulling away slightly as a wave of guilt washed over you. "I didn't mean to push you away like that. It's just... I'm not used to this."
Choso's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. "Hey," he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm. "You don't have to apologise. I know it's not easy for you, but I'm here for you, always."
Tears welled up in your eyes as you leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hands against your skin. "I'm just so scared," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you let your guard down, allowing him to see the vulnerability that lay beneath the surface.
Choso's gaze softened, his thumb brushing away the tears that streaked your cheeks. "I know," he murmured, his voice filled with compassion and understanding. "But you don't have to be scared anymore. I won't let anyone hurt you, not while I'm here."
His words were a soothing balm to your wounded soul, offering comfort and reassurance in the face of your fears.
"I love you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you pressed your forehead against his, your eyes locked in a silent exchange of love and devotion.
Choso's eyes softened, his gaze filled with an unwavering devotion that took your breath away. "And I love you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.
written by @adiraargent Please do not steal or claim <3 Hope you enjoyed Requests are welcome :)
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swifty-fox · 16 hours
Text
What Comes After
blacked out. wrote 1.7k fic for @bcolfanfic's Young vets AU.
Fanfic/Sequel of
Tw for aftermath of a suicide attempt and all that may entail
Nobody tells you what to do in the hours after your husband tries to take his life. Nobody says you’re going to be angry.
Nobody tells Gale how much he’ll have to pay for gas to the only Hospital for miles, seven hours tailing the red ominous lights of an ambulance there seven hours back all alone for the first time in a long while (one-hundred-twenty-seven dollars and fifty-three cents).
There’s nobody to tell him how to smile at his husband as he’s led away in a stunned daze. Does he smile at all? Small and painful and fake? 
And who can he ask what to do as he comes home to a now empty home, dawn well past finished and a hole the size of a man's life in the wall. A hole, no bigger than a nickel and just perfectly at eye level. The difference between a happy ending and a tragedy; the scales tipped kindly in his favor this time. 
You never wrestle for a gun. That’s the easiest way to get your own damn self shot.
A coin flip. Heads for John, Tails for Gale. 
“Guess the quarter got stuck in a crack.” he mutters. He knows his thought patterns aren’t quite clear, confused and weighed down by exhaustion and shock. 
Somewhere an animal is in pain. It gasps raggedly; sharp and raw. Someone should put that animal out of its misery, nothing deserved to be driven to sounds like that. Gale knows he is that animal. He swipes at his suddenly-tear soaked cheeks with a rough palm and sits down on the floor hard. 
His phone is in his hand, it’s first instinct to want to call John, hear his teasing voice (it hadn’t been teasing in a long time Gale Cleven don’t you lie). Bucky wouldn’t answer. He knew it would be a day or two before he would get an update on his husband. Not until observation was over, until paperwork was filed and permission was given. The nurse had explained it all through the ringing in Gale’s ears.
“Curt.” Buck says, shocked by the steadiness in his voice even as more tears trail their acidic way down his face. 
“Hey Buck, y’just caught me on break what’s up?” The familiar voice, clipping all it’s ‘T’s  away to nothingness devastates Gale. He lets out a sob with all the violence of vomiting.
“Gale?” 
“Ah fuck Curt, John had a gun.” Gale moans, covering his eyes and trying to breathe. The gun, now tossed carelessly on their bed like a stray shirt. 
Nobody tells him how to inform their friends of what has happened.
“What.” Curts voice is so strangled, so tiny that Gale realizes his fatal error immediately. 
“He’s okay. He’s okay Curt the gun- it went into the wall. He’s at a hospital right now. He’s where he needs to be.” 
Gale had heard that phrase a lot; spoken by people trying to reassure themselves that their loved ones would come home whole and healed. Now he was one of those people whispering the phrase with false confidence.
John needed to be Home. 
Curt devolves into a mess of swearing, punctuated with a passionate “Fffffucking VA!”
“I woke up and he wasn’t next to me. I thought maybe he had gotten out somehow, past the alarms. I’d already gotten my gun out of the house Curt I didn’t think-”
There's muffled voices on the other line, Curt talking to someone else, “- No I’m sick can’t you see? Gotta go Sean sorry. Fuck the client pardon my fucking french I gotta family emergency.” A car door slams, the sound of keys in an ignition. “You didn’t know Buck. It’s not your fault you did exactly what ya should’ve.”
“He had the gun to his chin,” Gale says numbly. 
Is there anyone to tell him how to get that single heart-stopping image out from behind his eyelids? He saw it every time he closed his eyes. 
“Fuck, Gale.” Curt exhales. “He’s okay?” so vulnerable, so sad, needing to double check just in case. 
“He’s in fucking psych ward. I can’t even call him.” 
“Yeah dumb question.” A pause where Gale just tries to breathe, looks up at that hole in the wall. It could be a woodpecker's hole on any tree outside. It was in his home and smelled faintly of gunpowder and terror. “I’m looking up plane tickets right now.” 
“Y’don’t have t-”
“G’fuck yourself, I’m coming.” 
Gale has no strength to argue, he’s got nothing left, really. 
“I almost lost him, Curt.”
“But you didn’t.” Curt still sounds stressed and Gale feels a twinge of guilt for ruining the guy's day just because he wasn’t able to help his own partner. “You did everything right. And you’re going to go to bed, then you’re going to wake up and I’mma be there. And we’ll deal with things together.”
“Together,” he echoes. 
“Get some sleep Buck. I’ll send you a text when my flight lands.” Curt orders before hanging up.
The thought of going into the bedroom; to the bed he shared with John. To have to see that fucking gun again. 
Nobody tells him how to handle that.
Gale falls asleep on the couch instead. 
-*~*-
When he awakes it’s night again and he feels such a violent sense of deja-vu that he has to do a walk-through of the whole house just to make sure that saving John hadn’t actually been a dream. That his body wasn’t lying somewhere with horrifying finality. 
Nobody tells you that maybe your husband's trauma-based decisions might cause a little trauma themselves.
Even though he knows there will be nothing - John's phone kept safely in a plastic bag along with the rest of his personal effects- Gale checks their messages first. Scans them for any sign, any slip that he may have missed that told him what Bucky was planning. ‘Love You’s’ and ‘Be Home Soons’ and ‘Get There Safes’. Bucky had been struggling, but he hadn’t seemed quite that bad yet.
Or maybe Gale just hadn’t wanted to see it. 
There’s a text from Curt showing his seven hour direct flight was only a half hour from landing. 
Exhaustion still claws at Gale as he shuffles out to the truck, clothes rumbled and sweaty from sleep, from stress; from wrestling a fucking firearm from a man determined to end his life and Gale’s in the same action. The truck is too silent. John usually sat to his right, hand on his thigh or the back of his neck; always touching Gale in a way the blonde allowed no other man to do.
He has to pull over to stop himself from hyperventilating.
When he pulls into the pick-up zone at the Airport it’s nearly deserted aside from a short familiar man in a windbreaker and military boots. 
Curt takes one look at his pale face and walks around the nose of the car to the driver's side.
“Budge over.” He says, opening the door and waving an impatient hand at Gale. 
Gale didn’t think he could, felt like his hands were glued to the smooth leather of the wheel. Just twenty-four hours ago he’d driven Bucky to the hospital in this car. He wondered at how quickly he’d gone from seeing the next steps so clearly in front of him to having to remember how to even speak. He was a puppet, his strings cut the moment John had entered the doors of the hospital. Through security guard checkpoints and metal detectors and locked doors. It was like being back in the desert with that level of protective diligence; or perhaps a prison
That can’t be very good for Bucky.
Nobody told him it might have been a good idea to inform the hospital why sometimes the glint of metal in the light made John do a double take.
When Gale still hasn’t moved, Curt lets out a tender sigh and unclips Gale’s seatbelt for him like the other man is a child.
“Come on Cleven, scoot on down the line.” He says gently, gives him a light push.
This is enough for him to move his wooden limbs, shuffle awkwardly over the center console and collapse gracelessly into the passenger seat. Curt hauls himself into the truck with an awkward grunt. He takes a second to maneuver his leg, move the seat upwards and the wheel down, and adjust the mirrors.
Gale sits there, opening and closing his hands. John had sat here last. Cried here not because he was alive and safe like Gale had cried; but for the opposite. 
Nobody told him how to sit in a puddle of his husband’s shed grief. 
“Here,” Curt tosses his phone into Gales lap. “Text Kenny for me will ya? Tell him I got y- got  here safe” 
“Does he know?” 
Curt pulls out of the airport, opens a window and leans his arm out as if he could air out the stuffy melancholy of the truck. “He asked where I was going. I didn’t-”
“John’s gonna hate it.” Gale mumbles “He won’t want anyone to know.” 
“Yeah, well, if he didn’t want people to know, maybe he shoulda woken you up. Shoulda called m-” Curt cuts himself off, presses sturdy boxer’s fingers to his mouth. “Fucking VA.” he curses again.
“Fucking VA.” Gale agrees. And it feels a little good. 
-*~*-
When they arrive back at the house It’s Curt that leads them inside. Curt, who picks up the gun, carefully disassembles it and puts it safely in the lock-box to be gotten rid of later. Curt who makes them a simple dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
They stand at the counter, eating silently. Gale feels wired and too awake, his sleep schedule beyond to fucked. 
He’d have to call out of work tomorrow. Maybe take a short leave. How could he even pretend to be okay for the kids?
“This is- In here right?” Curt’s eyes are jumping around the dark room, searching searching. 
Nobody tells you the shame that curls in one's belly when you have to show your best friend the bullet hole that nearly ruined all their lives. 
Curt puts his hands on his hips, bread crumbs stuck to the corner of his mouth and brow furrowed. Neither of them say much for a long time. Curt surveying and Gale staring a little blankly and replaying the sound of the gunshot over and over in his head.
“Well,” Curt finally drawls, “That’s an easy fix. You got any spackle?” he turns and smiles at Gale, crooked and reassuring, 
Gale thinks he’d like to tell someone about this part. The part where people show up for you.
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pokestudentjune · 2 days
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Hello all! My name is June (she/her) and I am a university student from Hoenn, majoring in pokemon biology and horticulture! I'm currently traveling in order to gain as much knowledge as possible thanks to a scholarship from my uni. I hope to maybe make it as a pokemon professor-- and if not, perhaps open up my own plant + grass type conservatory!
In all honesty I'm pretty new to this whole rotomblr stuff, and I'm not all to osure how to work it that well.. But I'd still like someplace to document my life and experiences, as well as share my knowledge about pokemon and plants! Got plenty of cute pics of my pokemon and the ones I meet as well! Please feel free to reach out with asks about myself, my pokemon, or anything in general-- I'll do my best to answer to the best of my ability :)
Here is my current travel team!
Lotus the Ivsaur
Modest, highly persistent. A water lotus variant Ivysaur with a water/grass typing, and practically my soulmate. My first officially owned pokemon, gotten from my grandmothers venusaur as a child. Lotus has grown and matured with me through the years, and is always looking out for me! Shes trained in battle and performance, but we have since retired from coordinating and she'd rather sit back and experience life as it comes.
Scout the Lopunny
Sassy, likes to fight. One of my first wild-caught pokemon, and both me and Lotus's best friend. Shes quite a fan of my more feminine interests, often asking to share my clothes and music. Shes definitely one of my more battle + performance savvy pokemon, and we're working on learning mega evolution together! She wears a light blue letterman jacket I bought for her once, she wanted to dress similarly to an idol group we saw online once!
Grim the Joltik
Jolly, very finicky. Another pokemon caught when I was younger, he is literally the sweetest little baby ever. He was an unexpected capture, having hopped onto my phone one day and refusing to leave. He loves to suck out the battery life from practically my devices which drives me insane, but I wouldnt trade him for the world. Despite being small for the past few years, I think he doesnt want to evolve which is fine by me! I think he enjoys riding on my head or shoulder.
Jasper the Typhlosion
Rash, quick to fight. A large, bulky, fluffy, shiny typhlosion with a scar across his muzzle. Rescued from a "backyard zoo" situation, it took a long long time to fully gain his trust, but it was worth it. Hes very standoffish but protective of me and the team. Lotus was a big help in calming him during the beginning, and now he enjoys battling to blow off some steam.
Harlequin the Banette
Quirky, impetuous and silly. Perhaps my first ever pokemon friend. We met when I was a small child and he was still a shuppet. Its a bit of a long story, but he stuck through with me during some negative times within my early years even as a wild pokemon, and would frequently visit to keep me entertained through the years. I didn't catch him for many years, but one day after being a trainer for a while, I asked him if he'd like to join my team and has stuck around since. He wears a chunky bandana on his neck thats practically the size of him.
Jade the Noivern
Adamant, alert to sounds. One of the newer additions to the group, i had caught her within a cave and she showed fighting spirit right off the bat. I took the time to train her in between my studies and she evolved into a speed demon. She absolutely LOVES flying and I myself had always wanted to ride on a flying pokemons back, so its a win-win. She looks up to Jasper, and they often spar together.
I have plenty of other pokemon back at home that I'll introduce when the time comes, but these are the ones I think are best suited to help me during my studies! Perhaps I'll switch around the team, maybe I wont. It takes a while to transfer pokemon across regions but who knows where life will take me!
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// OOC
Hello hello! Just like June, I am very unfamilliar with tumblr as its been years since I last used it, but I've been religiously stalking rotomblr for years now and i figured its my time to make a blog! Heres a few things about how I'll be running this blog :3
• This will be a mix of anime and game, keeping it semi realistic as I love biology and science but still want to keep some magic from the pokemon games included!
• June is basically a self insert so no weird stuff!
•For Junes universe, fakemon, sentient pokemon, or pokemon/human hybrids or anything similar to that doesnt exist-- again, I'm keeping it a bit semi realistic. Pokemon crossbreeds are fine though!
• This is very casual!! Just for fun slice of life blog :3
• In this world, legendaries are gods and greatly affect the environment, so June may not interact with those who "own" legendaries because she greatly frowns upon messing with the natural order of things.
• Feel free to dm me or send me asks ! I'd love to get to know the community more :)
• Also i might not do many fully pieces and more colored sketches because I am very busy irl unfortunately
• Im okay with interactions from other OCs and canon characters !
• Pelliper Mail is : OPEN
• Magic Anon is : CLOSED
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autisticmao · 15 hours
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GENRE: fluff - maybe crackish?
FEATURED: joel
WARNINGS: none
PROMPT: Etho loses his mask, and finds who the thief who stole it was.
WORD COUNT: 759
//one day i will get back to writing angst... but for now:
//also this idea has been in the works since the beginning of writing these two- so it looks as tho i joined the obsessed joke sorta late. sjsns
"Where even is it?!" A groan of frustration leaves from Etho, his voice echoed the room after slamming the top part of the chest down, a flurry of noise follows the action.
To put it simply, Etho has lost his mask. He wasn't quite sure how or when, but during the past few days and up until now, the mask was gone with no trace.
A sigh of defeat leaves from the ashen-haired male as he walked over to his bed on the other side of the room, plopping himself down and resting his chin in his hands, elbows rested on his knees as he stared forward with a blank focus on the wall ahead of him.
Etho's thoughts wracked through every memory from the past week or so to how he could have lost his mask, trying to remember who he last interacted with to think if any of them would know. He's interacted with a decent few, like Mumbo, Gem, and especially...
Etho hears a noise come from one of the rooms next over as he was stuck in thought of his missing wanderings. His head perks up at the said noise. There was only ever one other person besides him in the house.
...Joel.
With a steady thought flowing in his head, Etho stands from his bed and walks over to the door, letting it creak open after pushing it gently over and stepping out onto the landing.
He looks left and right, ears perked for more noise to which he follows through the house until a few minutes after, and Etho finds himself standing in a singular open doorway of one of the rooms.
Etho peeks his head past the doorframe, noticing the familiar figure of Joel standing near one of the walls and facing it. On the very wall was a standard size mirror that Joel seemed to be entertaining himself with, laughing at himself as he made jokes and silly voices and even poses or other movements to go with what he said every other sentence.
Etho goes to only take two steps into the room, and with Joel's extraordinary observant antics, from where Joel stood, he turns around speedily, meeting eye to eye with Etho.
He goes to speak to the other male, only to realise that Joel had something of his...
Joel was wearing Etho's mask, the one he's been looking for hours on end for. All this time spent looking around wasted, only to find that the brunette had it to himself all along.
Etho leans against the wall behind him, arms crossed over as a facade of cheekiness crosses over his features, eyes focused solely on the other male. "What you wearing there Joel?" He asks teasingly, nodding his head towards the other male.
"...Nothing." Joel stutters a little, staring wide-eyed at Etho.
"Uh huh... seems like it." A smirk crosses his facial features. "Then mind telling me where you got that mask from?"
A sudden hit of realisation shocks through Joel, one of his hands come up to his face as he attempts horribly at hiding the midnight coloured mask that he was wearing. "Oh, you mean about this? Totally from the shopping district! Not anywhere else." The umber eyed smaller attempts to lie, hoping to metaphorically push Etho away. His voice sounded incredibly muffled, but Etho could still understand him from under it all.
"That's funny," he steps incredibly closer towards Joel, "because the mask you're wearing looks exactly like my one. From every frailed loose string to anything else. Practically down to a tee. Are you sure that's not mine... or are you so obsessed that you're cosplaying as me now?"
Joel stills himself into defensive mode. "I'm not the one obsessed, thank you very much, Etho!" He huffs loudly. Etho couldn't help but chuckle silently. It was easy to rile Joel up when using the right words, and in a way, it was entertaining to the ashen-haired taller. Joel reminded Etho of a young toddler who was in a stroppy mood, whinging until daylight was taken away.
"I don't know about that... everything you do lately around here seems like you are, and the fact that you also decided to move in with me a few months ago doesn't help factor your point there, Joel."
Another huff comes from the male who was talked about.
Etho talked once more, originating back to the previous subject of talking. "Anyways. The mask...?"
"Nope! It is mine!"
"Joel!"
"...Bye!"
"Joel, don't run off! ...Damn it... Joel! Come back!"
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