#literally almost faint every time I go on a plane but not this time!!! and without my silly good luck charm!!!

[p-redux]

I say he is in Nepal, either at base camp, or less likely, scaling Everest. Your opinion on this theory?

Hi, Anon, as I said in a previous post, I have a slight obsession with all things Mount Everest, have read the books, watched the movies, the TV series, and every year when it's the push for the summit in May, I follow climbers on Instagram, and watch their treks up to the highest mountain on Earth. Soooo, I do have some knowledge on this subject. Here's my take...

I know Sam has said in interviews that one of his bucket list items is climbing Mount Everest. And he was supposed to star in that Everest movie. The thing is, climbing to the SUMMIT of Mount Everest is only done in May, usually mid May due to weather constraints. And the prep dictates you have to start 2 months before to acclimate to the high altitude. I'll talk more about that down below. IF you are able to spend the two months in either Nepal for climbing from the South side of Everest, or Tibet (controlled by China) for climbing from the North side of Everest, you will be climbing to almost 29,032 feet, 8,849 meters. This is literally the altitude that jet planes fly once they reach cruising altitude. Sam has this pesky thing called a contract to finish out the remaining seasons of Outlander. I highly doubt his Outlander contract, and the insurance company associated with it, would allow him to take such a risk. Every year, people DIE climbing up or on the way back down from the summit. And some people don't die, but they get severe frostbite and lose fingers, toes, tips of noses. It's not for the faint of heart, and it's not for handsome actors who need to keep their beautiful appendages intact for filming Outlander. Unless the writers can work on a storyline involving Jamie Fraser missing a few, um, things.

Having said that, it IS possible Sam could trek to Mount Everest BASE CAMP. This is the area at the base of the mountain that all climbers go to to prepare to climb higher up, and eventually to the summit. BUT, some people who aren't making summit bids, simply make Base Camp their one and only destination. And that may be a compromise Sam makes with Outlander producers. Base Camp is still REALLY, REALLY high. It's at 17,598 feet, 5,364 meters. Sam isn't putting himself in too much risk at Base Camp...unless there's an avalanche. Sadly, there have been avalanches there and many people have died, as a result, the last one being in 2015.

Everest Base Camp in Nepal is trekked either for the Summit bid season February to May, with all summit bids happening in May. OR, it is trekked JUST for the Base Camp in late September to November. We are now in November, so it IS possible. 👇

BUT, you don't simply hop on a plane and get plopped down at Base Camp's 17,000 feet altitude. You could quite literally die from High Altitude Cerebral Edema and or High Altitude Pulmonary Edema due to the low oxygen levels. Soooo, IF Sam wanted to trek to Mount Everest Base Camp in Nepal, he would have to start acclimating at least two weeks before. All travelers going from Nepal's capital, Kathmandu at an elevation of 4,344 feet stay there for a few days, and then they do a 14 day trek up the mountains, to allow their bodies to acclimate to the altitude and the lower oxygen levels. 👇

Sam would have to allow himself at LEAST 3 WEEKS to make the Everest Base Camp trek. 2 weeks to climb there and acclimate, and then you want to spend at least a week there camping and just being there. Then you have to allow time for the return climb back down. This isn't a weekend excursion.

As for whether Sam is actually trying to climb to Mount Everest SUMMIT. That would be a definite NO. Not only from an Outlander insurance and contract issue, but also because it's not summit climbing season. 👇

And for people who want to climb to the Summit, they have to make a 2 MONTH commitment. The summit climb entails the two weeks to climb to Base Camp. And then at least 6 weeks, climbing up and down from each of the higher camps. I think there are at least 4 camps that climbers stay at, higher and higher on the mountain, until they reach the Summit. 👇

So, if a climber wants to go for a Summit bid, which is always in mid-May, they would have to start in mid-March and literally be on Mount Everest at the various camps the whole two months. It's a huge commitment. Most companies charge around $40,000 for the whole expedition. The reputable ones assign each climber a Sherpa to guide you. The Sherpas are natives to the area and they are expert climbers who are born in the area, therefore their bodies are completely acclimated to the high altitude. The expedition companies hire them to help climbers up the mountain. They set all the safety ropes, set up the camps, make the meals, and deal with the inevitable emergencies along the way. No one should climb without a Sherpa. Also, most companies will only take on a climber for a Summit bid if they can show previous experience in climbing at high altitude and have summitted a few of the highest peaks on Earth. That's not Sam. So, if anything, Sam would probably only be allowed to climb to Base Camp.

As you can see, I'm really, really into all things Everest and could keep writing all day hahaha. But, I'll stop here. I hope that was helpful info, Anon.

#samheughan #sam heughan #mount everest #everest #nepal #kathmandu #tibet #north side #south side #north face #south face #sherpas #base camp #everest base camp #summit #everest summit #outlander

[defnotjarlaxle]

Dragon Heist Shenanigans 11

-the unthinkable happened, TWICE, i was not prepared AT ALL-

My players decided to celebrate surviving the last fights that almost cost them their lives so they prepared a party.

They met on the Eyecatcher, decorated it and got good drinks, meaning to give the crew some much needed downtime.

Jarlaxle decided to surprise them and covered almost every surface on deck in Faerie Fire, completing the look he desired since it would be the first and last time for the adventurers to see the crews actual forms as drow instead of their usual human disguises.

He also made sure Artemis was all cleaned up and dressed nicely, which he hated but whatever.. Artemis used the opportunity to give Cleric some notes he stole from Kimmuriels desk. The content? Kimmuriels "symptoms" and research of his "mysterious sickness"... quite spicy in fact...

Kimmuriel was forced to leave his current project so he could join the fun he didn't have. Cleric really wanted him to be there. Mystic made Cleric think he drank a love potion which he in actuality did not but not knowing that he told Kimmuriel about his feelings. That he loves him. And cares for him. Which made Kimmuriel feel all sorts of ways he didn't know he could. Of course he knew something was up, he had noticed symptoms in himself that led him to believe he was.. feeling things.. after researching it he came to the conclusion it must be affection, love even. Being in denial he tried to explain it as some kind of charm he didn't know yet. But when Cleric told him that he wants him, not because he is powerful and useful, but because he sees him as a person that deserves love.. the realization hit him like a truck. Kimmuriel, now blushing, had to admit it. Had to admit he felt love. For the first time.

-

Meanwhile Mystic talked to Drizzt who brought Brie, his little darling daughter. She hadn't known about his wife Catti-Brie and wanted to know more about the whole "marriage" thing they had going on. Drizzt explained to her that after knowing Catti-Brie for a long time he realized he loved her and didn't want to lose her, ever. Which is why they got married and eventually got little Brie. "All that matters in the decision is how connected you feel to someone, you'll know when the time is right." he told Mystic. Well. Mystic, not understanding the worldly things like marriage because she literally arrived in this plane only a month ago made up her mind.

Having heard Drizzts word Mystic knew what she wanted to do next. No matter the cost or consequences.

She walked up to Jarlaxle, her lover.

And then she asked him to marry her.

Just like that.

When I say he almost fainted that's not even close to how he felt at that moment.

Instead of answering he decides to explain the whole marriage thing to her again.

In the back of his mind he couldn't shake the memories. Memories of male drow being forced into submission by their female counterparts. Not being able to choose for themselves.

Although Jarlaxle knew in his heart that he loves Mystic and even left multiple lovers for her he's still conflicted. A little worried but wondering if he should try something new, seeing Drizzt with his daughter stirred something within him. Mystic would never dream of taking any of his freedoms away from him, he knows. Binding himself to someone would mark Mystic as a target to his enemies immediately. She would become an even bigger weakness to him.

Will he accept, dooming her? Sealing her fate and possibly risking her death at the hands of a foe?

Who knows.. all I know is he will have to think about it for a long, long time.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #waterdeep dragon heist #legend of drizzt #jarlaxle #jarlaxle baenre #artemis entreri #kimmuriel #kimmuriel oblodra #dnd shenanigans by jax

[victimofthemusic]

take me now (or lose me, babe)

part 3 of the i need a man to make me (sweat) 'verse :)

You can read part 1 here and part 2 here :)

*

It figures that their first time would be up against a plane on a carrier ship in the middle of the fucking ocean. It also figures it took one of them almost dying in order to get here.

Or

What happens after Hangman saves Rooster from almost, for surely, dying in a great ball of fire. Literally.

*

Author's Note:

I can't stop writing porn for these two, I swear. This series has also snowballed in a way that never expected nor intended it to. Thank you guys so much for inspiring me and encouraging my fixation and obsession with these two. Also send help because I've seen the movie three times already and I want to see it a fourth. I swear it keeps getting better and better every single time I see it.

Title taken from Man to Make Me Sweat by Leslie Powell. To the surprise of literally no one.

Leslie, sweetie, I'm so sorry I keep putting your brother in smutty situations.

To E, who started this mess to begin with.

This would be a prequel to take me where I want to go and a sequel to barefoot, sunkissed, after burn grease, but literally all of them could be read as a stand alone.

Enjoy :)

*

“Bradley,” Jake whispers between frantic kisses, twisting his fingers into sweat damp hair. “Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.”

“I’m right here, baby,” Bradley murmurs, nipping his lower lip, soothing it with a flick of his tongue. “I’m right here.”

But you almost weren’t, Jake thinks desperately, clutching Bradley tighter, pulling him closer, kissing him harder. He feels desperate with it, wants to sink into Bradley’s embrace, his very skin and never leave. Because he almost lost this today, lost it before he really had it to begin with and it makes him choke on a breath, heart clenching behind his rib cage in a vice-like grip. 

“Fuck me,” He says instead, bucking his hips up, grinding their hard cocks together. Bradley groans against his lips, fingers flexing on his hips. “Fuck me,” he repeats, low and needy and just a little bit desperate. 

Bradley pulls back and even though Jake can barely see in the darkness surrounding them like a blanket, he can picture it: Bradley’s lips, kiss swollen and bruised, cheeks flushed with arousal, eyes dark, burrows furrowed in concern because they’ve done a lot of things, but they haven’t done this before, though not for lack of trying. 

It’s all Jake’s wanted since he dropped to his knees in a dirty public bathroom and blew Bradley’s within an inch of his life. But then the mission got pushed up, their training got even more grueling and there was just never the time for it. 

Until today, it seems. 

“Are you sure?” Bradley whispers, like the fucking well-mannered gentleman he is and Jake may be just a tad bit in love with him. “We don’t have to—“

“I want to,” Jake breathes, trailing hot, wet kisses down Bradley’s jaw, his neck, nuzzling into the curve of it, right before slopes into those broad, strong shoulders that Jake absolutely does not daydream about. Ever. “I need—“ he pauses, eyes burning. “I need you.” He admits into the scratchy material of Bradley’s flight suit.

He can feel the way Bradley softens, the way his touch gentles into something sweeter and less frantic, fingers laddering up each rib until they smooth over his collarbones, until his jaw is framed by those warm, capable hands like he’s made of the finest china, thumbs tracing tender circles over the curve of his cheekbone. 

The clouds shift, the light of the half moon casting them in a faint blue glow that illuminates Bradley’s handsome features, eyes downright burning as they trace over Jake’s face, as if this moment is something he wants to sear into his memory, like it’s something worth keeping. 

Jake’s heart thunders in his chest, arousal burning low in his belly as one of Bradley’s hands drifts down to his front, fingers toying with the zipper of his flight suit and Jake feels like he can’t breathe. 

“You want me to fuck you?” Bradley asks finally, voice a low rasp that makes Jake shiver. “Right here?” 

Jake swallows heavily, but he nods because God, yes, does he want to. 

“Someone could see us,” Bradley comments lowly, but he starts to tug the zipper of Jake’s flight suit down anyway, so his earlier protest loses any sense of merit. Not that it had much to begin with, because at the end of the day, no matter how gentlemanly he may be, Bradley Bradshaw is just a man who can be seduced by batted lashes and a pretty smile. As long as they’re Jake’s, at least.  “But something tells me that doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Jake’s cheeks flush, but he shakes his head and murmurs a breathy, “No.”

Bradley hums, raking his fingers down Jake’s stained white t-shirt, dragging a thumb over a nipple in a way that makes him groan and arch into his touch, cock throbbing in his underwear. “You like putting on a show, don’t you, baby? Does that get you hot? Thinking about someone walking by and seeing me fucking you? Hmm?”

He places wet, opened mouth kisses down the side of Jake’s neck, teeth teasing at the skin of his fluttering pulse point, mustache leaving behind a tickling trail and Jake can’t help but moan. 

He can feel Bradley’s lips quirk into a smirk against his neck. “I bet you’d like that, baby. Bet you’d like it even more if they stopped to watch you, see the way you take my cock. Gonna be so beautiful, sweetheart, bet you’ll take me so well.”

His fingers tease at the waistband of Jake’s boxers, dipping below to trace the flushed, sweaty skin, fingertips skating through the smattering of hair that lead downwards and Jake whimpers, bucking his hips up, because even though it's not what he really wants, he’s eager for something, anything, at this point. 

“You’re doing an awful lot of talking there, Roo,” Jake manages, though it comes out a bit more breathless than he’d like. “You ain’t backing out on me now, are you?”

Bradley grins and sucks a mark into his neck that Jake will get ribbed for tomorrow, no doubt. “Oh don’t worry, baby, I fully intend to follow through.”

“Then get to it, Lieutenant,” Jake murmurs before he kisses him, licking into his mouth, grinding his cock into the thigh Bradley nudges between his legs. “I ain’t getting any younger, here.” 

“Impatient.” Bradley chides, but he helps Jake out of his flight suit, his boxers, until he’s in nothing but his dog tags and his boots, pressed up against the body of a spare F-18 on the hangar deck of the carrier, but Jake really can’t bring himself to care, not when Bradley’s looking at him like that–hot and aroused, like he wants to eat him alive–and touches him like this–confident and assured, like he knows Jake will let him do anything he wants and thank him for it. 

But underneath all the silent self-assuredness, there’s a tenderness, a reverence, like there’s something inside Bradley that doesn’t quite believe this moment is real. Like if he holds on too tightly, Jake will shatter beneath his hands, but if doesn’t hold on tight enough, Jake might slip right through his fingers forever. 

Jake knows; he can relate, because he almost lost this today. A part of him still wonders if this isn’t a dream he’s gonna wake up from. 

“Can you blame me?” Jake asks softly, glancing up at Bradley beneath his lashes, smile rueful. He feels oddly vulnerable and not just because he’s standing on a carrier, damn near naked as the day he was born while Bradley remains fully clothed. 

It’s because here, in this moment, he feels like everything he’s kept hidden behind cutting remarks and roguish smirks is on full display for Bradley to see. He’s offering himself up on a silver platter and praying to the Almighty above that it’s enough.

And when Bradley kisses him, soft, sweet, brushing a reassuring caress over his cheek and whispers, “No. I don’t.” And when he kisses him again, slow, hot and achingly tender, it’s a vow, a promise and it says that Bradley wants this–whatever this is–just as much.

When they part, fingers trace at the seam of his lips and Bradley murmurs, “Suck.”

Jake complies, but he makes a show of it–lashes fluttering, he sucks Bradley’s long, capable fingers into his mouth, teeth teasing at the calloused fingertips, humming at the taste of jet fuel and salt, bobbing his head, letting himself drool a little, at the risk of being through and a tease because he can, before he lets him go with a lewd sounding pop. 

Bradley’s eyes smolder in the weak moonlight and Jake is more than happy to let those umber eyes burn him from the inside out if it means he gets more of this—Bradley’s lips, his touch, his taste, his scent and those fingers, fuck, those fingers that trace the rim of his hole, calluses catching and dragging over the sensitive skin, teasing over where Jake wants him most and he whimpers out a wrecked, “Please.”

He did the best he with what he was given, but without lube to ease the way, the first press of Bradley’s finger is a little dry, leaving behind a burning sensation that Bradley tries to soothe by pressing distracting kisses to his neck, his jaw, his kiss swollen lips, swallowing each noise he wrings from him with a flick of his tongue and a nip of his teeth. 

“Fuck,” Bradley breathes when they part, warm breath fanning in a teasing caress over Jake’s cheek. “You’re so tight, Jesus Christ.”

“Wrong savior,” Jake manages to get out between moans and Bradley laughs, warm and fond and it makes Jake's heart swell twice its normal size in his chest, making his ribs ache. 

Bradley adds another finger and Jake spreads his legs, hoping to ease the dull ache of the sudden stretch. “Even with two of my fingers up your ass, you can’t shut up.” Bradley huffs, trying for annoyed, but it comes out more amused than anything. 

Jake grins, nipping at Bradley’s jaw, the slope of his neck, sucking a bruise right over where his pulse thrums with life and whispers, “You love it.”

You love me

“I do,” Bradley whispers, brushing once, twice, over his prostate and Jake gasps, lashes fluttering, biting into the fabric of Bradley’s shoulder to muffle his whine of pleasure. “Fuck. I do, you have no idea how much.”

Jake’s eyes burn, belly swooping with joy and pleasure and he groans, head falling back onto the cool metal of the plane behind him. “Roo.” He moans, fucking back on his fingers–three now, the stretch almost overwhelming and he knows it’s only a preview of what’s to come–cock dragging against Bradley’s stomach, a lick of heat racing down his spine at the rough drag of the material of his flight suit against the aching head of his flushed and swollen cock. “Bradley. Fuck me. Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Bradley teases, but Jake can hear the strain, the threads of his control giving way to the need he’s desperately trying to keep a hold on and a thrill runs down his spine, a sense of smug satisfaction settling into his bones. 

Bradley presses a kiss to his shoulder, gently withdrawing his fingers and Jake mourns the loss, the sudden feeling of being empty making him whine and strain closer and Bradley shushes him with a kiss, licking into his mouth, tongue tracing his lower lip, tasting him and Jake opens for him, letting their tongues tangle and twine as the sound of Bradley’s zipper joins the soft smack of their lips, their breathy moans and sighs and then Bradley’s strong hands are wrapping around his thighs, hefting him up in a display of strength that makes Jake moan, legs wrapping around his hips, arms twining around his broad shoulders and then Bradley’s bracing him against the cold metal of the plane with one arm and dragging the head of his cock against his hole with the other and then—

Heat, blinding and biting, licks at Jake’s insides as Bradley sinks, inch by glorious inch, into his body, splitting him open and it’s a delicious blend of pleasurepainpleasurepain, punching the air out his lungs and he bites Bradley’s bottom lip so hard to keep his noises at bay that he swears he tastes blood. 

When he’s fully seated inside him, Bradley pauses, resting his forehead against Jake’s bare shoulder, chest heaving with pants, as he waits for Jake to adjust. “Fuck,” He breathes, hips twitching with effort to keep himself still. “You’re so goddamn tight.”

Jake clenches around him on purpose and Bradley sounds like he’s been gut punched, biting at his shoulder in reprimand. Jake muffles his grin into the sweaty strands of Bradley’s hair and whispers, “You can move, sweetheart.”

Bradley groans in what sounds like relief and shifts his hips back slowly, letting Jake feel every single inch of him before he punches right back in, nailing his prostate dead on and Jake tangles his fingers in Bradley’s hair, back arching as he moans so loudly he’ll be surprised no one hears them and comes running. 

Bradley continues like that–fucking him slow and steady, letting the pleasure build and build, letting Jake climb higher and higher with each grind of his hips, every kiss he presses to his neck, his shoulder, his jaw, grip tight on the slick skin of his thighs as he rocks into him, hitting his prostate with head of his cock with every push of his hips and it’s all Jake can do to hold on for the ride, pressing their foreheads together, close enough to share the same breath, inhaling every sigh and moan until Jake doesn’t know who’s sounds are who’s. 

And even though they're out in the open, on an aircraft carrier with no less than two hundred men on it, where anyone could walk by at any given moment, it’s intimate in a way that none of their other trysts have ever been. Maybe because they’ve never done this before. Maybe because they almost died today. Jake isn’t sure, but he doesn’t want to be anywhere else but here; pressed against the heat of Bradley’s body, cradled in his strong arms, making love to him—even just thinking the term makes him blush from head to toe, makes him want to curl up and die from embarrassment–but there’s no other way to describe the way Bradley moves inside him, the way he kisses him, tender and sweet, the way he sighs his name, like a prayer or a mantra, and holds him like he’s going to float away into the dark abyss of the ocean, umber eyes tracing over every inch of his face like a caress, like he wants to memorize every single second of this moment and never let it go.

No one has ever looked at Jake like that or touched him like this. No one has ever made him feel laid bare and exposed like this, no one has ever picked him apart and reduced him to nothing but the pleasure singing in his veins and the overwhelming ache of want in his chest. Every inch of him feels like an exposed nerve, want and desire on a constant feedback loop that makes him dizzy and desperate for the release he can feel building, trickling through his body warm and slow like molasses. 

“Bradley,” Jake whispers, fingers tangling in sweaty curls. “Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.”

“I’m right here, baby.” Bradley breathes, kissing him. “I’m right here.”

“Don’t–” go, stop, leave me, Jake thinks dazedly, so many different variations of the same fear that Bradley soothes with another kiss, another rock of his hips, reminding him that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere. Not yet. 

Pleasure builds and builds, coiling at the base of his spine and he reaches down to stroke himself, but Bradley bats his hand away, grabbing his cock with a tight grip instead, stroking in time with his thrusts, sending sparks dancing across his eyelids like fireworks and he whines, high in his throat, fucking up into Bradley’s grip. 

“Gonna come for me, sweetheart?” Bradley whispers, grinding the head of his cock against Jake’s prostate, making the fireworks reach a crescendo and he nods quickly, desperately and Bradley hums, kissing his jaw soothingly, murmuring, “Okay, baby, okay. Come for me, I got you, sweetheart. You did so good. So good for me.”

Jake’s heart swells at the praise, belly heating and then Bradley’s kissing him, slow and dirty, circling the head of his cock, thumbing at the slit with his fingernail, a sharp bite of pain eclipsing the pleasure and Jake comes, messy and hot between them, gasping into Bradley’s mouth, teeth catching on his lip, hole clenching and Bradley groans, fucking into him once, twice and then he’s coming, too, spilling into Jake in warm, wet bursts that make him feel used and dirty, but in the best way possible. 

Their lips meet, languid and gentle, breathing each other in, basking in the afterglow, the gentle sway of the carrier beneath them, the sounds of the waves lapping against the ship, the cool breeze on their overheated skin. Bradley smells like sweat and jet fuel, like open skies and freedom and he’s here and he’s real and Jake loves him so fucking much he feels like he could burst with it. 

And in the safety of Bradley’s arms, under the weak moonlight spilling over the ocean, casting them in its calm blue glow, Jake says as much, whispering in the shared space between them, “I love you, Bradley Bradshaw.” 

And he’ll be damned if he lets another day go by without Bradley knowing it, either. Because he almost lost him today and that’s all he could think about, sitting in the cockpit of his plane, helpless to anything but listen to command demanding Dagger Two, come in Dagger Two, do you copy? and getting nothing but silence on the other end of the comms. 

Jake isn’t one to overlook second chances and the universe offered him one today, with Bradley returning back to the carrier, with Mav in tow, alive and relatively unscathed. And Jake wasn’t going to take that for granted, ever again. 

Because he wants this man. He wants and he wants and he wants. 

And he loves him. God help him, he does. With everything he has in him, he loves this man—80’s porn ‘stache and all. 

He loves him, he loves him, he loves him, he loves–

“I love you, too,” Bradley whispers, cupping his cheek in his warm palm, smoothing a thumb over the curve of his cheekbone in a tender–loving–caress, dark gaze unbelievably soft. “I love you.” He repeats, like it’s a promise, a vow. 

And then he leans down and seals it with another kiss.

*

Author's Note:

I literally wrote almost 7k worth of nothing but porn for these two, wtf is wrong with me.

I have so many hopes and wishes to continue writing for these two. Many of you have also requested I start writing for IceMav again and I have plans for those two gay naval aviators as well, so don't fret.

On a more serious note: From the very bottom of my heart, THANK YOU. Seriously. To everyone who comments, who kudos, reblogs, reaches out to me on tumblr or even just bothers to read my fics, thank you. I see you, I love you and I appreciate every single one of you. It means the world to me <3

#top gun: maverick spoilers #top gun #hangman x rooster #rooster x hangman #hangman smut #rooster smut #rooster x hangman smut #hangman x rooster smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman seresin #hangman top gun #rooster top gun #hangster #sereshaw #glen powell #miles teller #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #iceman kazansky #icemav #iceman x maverick #maverick x iceman #val kilmer #tom cruise

[catsafarithewriter]

"Can you stop implementing secret rooms in my house?" You will do something brilliant with this, I just know it!

A/N: Okay, so I promise this prompt, uh, prompted this ficlet, but it went off the rails. If you were hoping for humour, sorry! I humbly offer you heartfelt sincerity instead! Have a ficlet about Baron’s early years in the Sanctuary! <3

x

"I know of a place," the crow gargoyle had told him. "It's not a home but it's safe. It's a refuge for Creations."

At first he stays because it's safe.

Beyond the Sanctuary lies a world torn apart by war. A treaty may have been signed, but the echoes of the conflict linger in poverty, and hunger, and mourning, and he finds he can help only so much from the confines of his creation.

He is nothing but a figurine, after all.

The Sanctuary is quiet. Empty. As he had been promised, it is a refuge, not a home. The little Creation world lines up a sea of houses which go vacant, and he chooses a simple workshop build with an eerily familiar shop front.

And so he retreats into that world, at least until the drone of planes and the stench of grief are almost forgotten, he promises himself.

And then he stays because he has nowhere else to go.

"I will make my way there eventually," says the gargoyle who tells him of the Sanctuary. The other Creation gestures to the remnants of the cathedral which had once been his perch. "But first I must see my people safe."

Baron has no people. He left behind his world – one of magic and mystery – in search of his lost soulmate, and instead found himself in a place plagued by destruction. He has had no time to form the familial bonds which tie others of his kind to this world.

Other Creations come and go through the Sanctuary, but none stay. Why would they, when they have homes or roots or people to return to?

It's not their fault he does not.

"The war must have driven many Creations to seek a refuge," the gargoyle Creation remarks when he finally makes his way to the Sanctuary. He has given his name as Toto, and there is less of the gargoyle about him than Baron remembers. Baron wonders how long it has been since the war ended. "Whenever I've dropped by, this place has been almost always empty."

Baron does not speak of the keening loneliness which has kindled within him, nor the surreptious timing of so many Creations finding their way to the Sanctuary's threshold. It has been a kindness, even if the ever-turning carasol of new faces is only a skin-deep balm.

And then he stays because maybe she will hear of the Sanctuary.

He has no other word for what Baroness Louise von Gikkingen is to him, other than soulmate. It is perhaps more literal than how most take it; they both were formed from the same soul of the same artisan, and were never meant to be apart.

She still exists – he'd feel it if she had been utterly lost – but the connection is faint, and he fears he could search a new world every day and never find her.

(He voices his grief for his missing half only once, but does not miss the portrait that appears on his mantelpiece the following day. Neither does he ask how the Sanctuary knows her face, and yet cannot find her.)

And then he stays because he is comfortable.

"I've never known a Creation to visit here for so long," Toto says in his next flying visit. He has almost entirely shed his gargoyle origins now, bearing more resemblance to a common corvid than the creature of tooth and talon he'd been carved as. Baron, meanwhile, has changed little in the intervening years, save for some alterations to his colour palette.

He has had no need to change.

"Where else would I go?" Baron asks. He opens a cupboard door and gathers up a bag of tea leaves. He's never gone shopping, but the Sanctuary never seems to run empty.

"I've heard of you in my travels," Toto says. "The Cat Creation who helped so many."

"I tried," Baron corrects.

"I would have thought you'd have grown bored by now," the crow continues.

Baron pauses, his hands curling around the kettle which never needs filling. "It would be... inauthentic to say I have not thought about it," he says. "Life is consistent here, unchanging. It was a relief when I first arrived, but sometimes I do miss the unpredictability of the outside world."

"Perhaps it's time to leave."

Baron smiles, and sets to making his tea. "I will think on it."

The next day, he selects a book off a shelf, and a hidden door slides open.

The door is new.

The book is not.

The passageway leads deeper into the Sanctuary, to a room impossible by human physics but unrestrained by the Sanctuary's magic. Bay windows look out onto a sea of stars, galaxies swirling like whirlpools across the expanse. And for the first time in too long, Baron feels life return to his old wooden heart.

It's the first secret room he discovers, but is far from the last.

He knows the cupboard under the sink wasn't always a tunnel, nor the western window a portal or the mirror a doorway, and at first it is a delight. His world, so safe and secure, now has surprises. Secrets.

Discoveries.

And so he stays because he is curious.

"You're looking better than my last visit," Toto remarks. He's added some light to his form, now bearing the marks of a magpie, and it feels like a pointed move away from his gargoyle origins. "Brighter. More awake."

"I was not aware I was so lacking during our last meeting."

Toto shuffles his wings. "Not lacking, but... sedate," he settles on. "Last time, it felt as though life had ceased to surprise you, and you are too young a Creation to feel that already."

Baron opens a cupboard. It's filled with jam jars. He tries it again, and this time he finds the tea leaves he is looking for. "Did you only come here to share judgement on my life choices, or can I offer you a spot of tea?"

"I came because I found her."

Baron drops the tea leaves. The cupboard door slams shut of its own accord.

"Her?"

"I found a trail," Toto clarifies. "A man who had once been engaged to a woman who had once had the Baroness in her possession."

It's a lot of loose connections, but it's the first breadcrumb he's found in decades. Baron feels his lungs go tight, his heart constrained by an unfamiliar tendril of hope. "Show me."

Toto nods and nudges open the doors, but instead of the Sanctuary courtyard, they are met with a corridor, old and dusty.

"Uh, Baron – is that normal?"

Not now.

Not like this.

Baron doesn't reply. Instead he shuts the double doors, counts to ten, and opens them again.

This time it's a different corridor, one marked with elaborately carved sconces lighting up a polished marble floor.

Again, and it's a tunnel, roughly hewn from rock that shouldn't be there.

Another try, and it's a hall of mirrors.

Baron stares at the infinite reflections, all staring back, and wonders when his fur had so dulled. In this light it's almost grey.

He shuts the doors once more.

"Baron...?"

"A moment, Toto." He sets his forehead against the grained wooden lines of the door. He notes the pine scent, and realises it's been too long since he breathed in air not saturated with Sanctuary magic. "Old friend," he murmurs, "you have been nothing but good to me, but I need you now to stop implementing secret rooms in my house. I need you," he says, "to let me go."

The door shivers.

"She is my soulmate. She is all I have left of my old world, my old life," he says. "Let me go to her now."

The door shivers again.

And then it clicks open.

Not onto the Sanctuary courtyard, but to a simple street. To the Human World.

And so he leaves.

The man whom Toto had talked about owns a humble antique store and so it is easy enough to blend in. Despite the Human World being less believing of the supernatural than Baron remembers, the man seems to take the talking figurine in his stride, and shares all he knows of his once-fiancee. Separated by the same war that Baron discovered this world in, the man can point him in no direction, but offer him a place to stay in hopes that one day that will change.

And so he stays.

The Human World has changed since he last retreated from it. The war still bears its marks on the older generation, but the children speak of futures untainted by conflict. The man's grandson wishes to craft violins, and the kids in the street take time to pet the stray cat on the shop's doorstep.

And then the girl arrives.

She is lost in more ways than one, but carries a curiosity that he recognises. She is young, burdened by that weight that all youth feel in that they must know their life's course or else flounder, and so he reaches out. He tells her a story – his story – and she discovers a passion in writing.

He helps.

And he succeeds.

It is not long after that that the antique shop's owner tells him he's tracked down a clue to his lost fiancee. Baron bids his farewell to the man and, with the unexpected aid of a stray cat, sets out to find his soulmate.

He does the unimaginable.

He finds her.

She has changed since they last saw each other – not so much in looks (her dress is different, and her hat has changed, but her fur is the same snow-white as before) – but in personality. She is bolder than he remembered; she stands taller, surer, and there is a cocky, reckless sort of grjn that he is sure their artisan never carved. She has discarded her Baroness title for all but the rare moment, instead going by Louise to those who know her now.

She pulls him into a tight embrace and tells him all about her missing years. About the adventure, and danger, and the worlds she has seen.

"Did you never look for me?" Baron asks.

She breaks the embrace and, oh, how he has almost forgotten those sapphire-blue eyes. "Of course I looked, Humbert. I found my way back to our artisan, but he said you had gone. So I came back, but this world is so large and we are so small..." He sees the glimmer of something akin to guilt. "Eventually I decided to live my life."

To move on, is the unspoken addition, but Baron can't even find it in himself to be hurt. Sedate, Toto had called him, but now he wonders if faded would have been truer. He looks to Louise and sees that she is more alive than he has been for decades.

"But we're found each other now!" Louise declares. "We can travel the worlds and see everything there is to see – together! Oh, there are worlds with waterfalls of diamonds, and flying whales, and – oh, so many people! There's so much to learn!"

"That sounds... wonderful."

His soulmate fixes him with a steely look. "But?"

But he thinks of the schoolgirl with her passion for writing, and the sense that he was finally helping someone again.

Oh, how he had missed that.

"But I think that we have different paths to happiness," he says. "I think I may have just realised what I want to do with my life."

"And it's not gallivanting off through other worlds, is it?" Louise asks softly.

"It's not." He smiles. "But I think our paths will cross nonetheless."

He returns to the Sanctuary with purpose, and it responds in kind. Alongside the stray cat who had helped him find Louise, he sets up the Cat Bureau in a little cottage-like house which bears striking resemblance to the old antique shop. The Sanctuary finds those who need the help of a cat Creation, ushering them into its world, until the Bureau garners enough of a reputation that clients find their own way there.

"So you're staying for good this time?" Toto asks. He's returned to a full black plumage, and his feathers shimmer with an iridescent gleam.

"I believe so." Baron regards his friend. "What's this? No recommendations to venture further afield this time?"

Toto casts a beady eye over the Bureau, and then Baron, both sure in purpose. "No. Finally. You're not running away from something, but to it instead."

"There's always room for another member in the Bureau, you know."

Toto smiles. "I'll think on it."

And Baron stays because he is home.

x

A/N: This whole ficlet started because I looked at that prompt and thought “what if the Sanctuary tried to cater to Baron’s personality and installed hidden rooms to keep him entertained” and then snowballed rapidly into “the Sanctuary is so used to being only a stopping point for Creations, never a home, that when Baron stays longer than usual it becomes attached to him and tries to tempt him to stay permanently by always giving him exactly what it thinks he needs/will make him stay.”  

#the cat returns #cat writes #tcr ficlet #also whoopsies this became 2K words #I get very attached to stories where you have two hurting individuals healing with the help of each other #and also I just really like the idea of houses wanting to be homes #the Sanctuary not even realising it was missing being a home until Baron accidentally showed it was an option #look I have a weird amount of feelings for a place that is really just a setting in the film #it has a personality now #and feeling #also toto constantly just looking at this disaster of a cat creation and being like #oh dear. I somehow feel responsible for this mess #also also dropping in my personal headcanon that toto was originally a bird like gargoyle #and after the war wanted peace and quiet #so his appearance changed to something more mundane and less scary #toto choosing to look after those around him with kindness rather than physical strength #it's important to me that after everything toto was able to choose to be soft #despite his original build

[measuringbliss]

Spider-Man Read-Through 012: Hmm watcha say... (ASM 88-92, Ann 7)

MASTERPOST

In this post, we're here to DO CO---I mean, Doc Ock is here.

We get some real nice art in this batch, so check it out!

See, Otto has been hustling and busting to increase his Bluetooth range and finally, after months, succeeds in taking control again of his mechanical arms.

Spidey thus does his best impression of a Japanese erotic doujinshi.

That's a great panel.

The arms escape, but more importantly: Gwen has a great new outfit! Love it.

Pete also has a great outfit later.

The yellow jacket/blue pants works exquisitely, obviously, but the sweater below, and the black tie over a white shirt... It's great.

So this issue's about Ock hijacking a plane where coincidentally a Chinese general has also boarded, and Otto uses this to blackmail the US and get money. A bit of racism (unsurprising), a smart idea (Spidey assassin'screeding his way to the plane) and nice outfits prevent this issue from being completely unmemorable. Otto has been through an explosion, but come on, it's not the last time it happens. He'll be alright. He's a big boy.

The next issue doesn't waste time with this either, since Spidey is once again fighting Ock on its cover, no less!

Randy's back, which is great.

We also get a very nice, if a bit overdone, panel.

On one hand, this issue is almost 100% action, which I dislike. On the other hand, we get fantastic perspective art.

But in the next issue, D E A T H A W A I T S.

I haven't had readers' letters for two issues now, I wonder if my scans are missing them or if the editors didn't have time for this.

Peter faints because a battle that takes a full issue is just far too long, and this gives us a nice waking up scene, although now I feel like Spidey is constantly sick or weakened.

Peter still hasn't told his secret to Gwen's father (he HAS to know though, right?). The artists are clever and they beg me to forgive them for last issue by providing both male physique and very nice colors.

It admittedly works. The colors, not Petter's too defined chest.

To beat Otto's impressive continent-wide Bluetooth skills, Peter invented a counter-measure: Bluetooth, but better! He No Way Home's Otto's tentacles and takes care of him.

Anyway, the tentacles go amok and Captain Stacy jumps in to protect a kid from rubbles and HE DIES. BUT NOOOOOT BEFORE REVEALING THAT HE KNOWS PETER'S SECRET. YES.

The letters are back, but they're not particularly interesting to me.

It's issue 91 one time, and what better way to close the year (December baby) than with a burial!

Gwen is furious at Spider-Man, whom she believes is responsible. So she's proactive and decides she's going to help Mr. Bullit at the local elections. Spidey's going to be fucked and she's making sure of it!

Bullit is making his greatest impression of the French government circa 2017-2027 (I will say no name, but those who know, know) and I'm having flashbacks. According to Robertson, he's "a fascist" and "still living in the 1930s". It's heartwarming to know that a century later, my government would be at the same point.

Jameson argues that maybe things were better before, to Robbie's face, which is truly outlandish.

FLASHBACKS, AS I SAID.

The issue was more disturbing than enjoyable.

In the letters, William Fesselmayer thinks that Hobie has to have guessed Spidey's identity, and I'd reply to him that he probably doesn't care. Someone else actually roleplays as him in the letters with the same "I figured who he is!", lol.

The readers are absolutely obsessed with the mechanics of Spidey's shooting mechanics, whereas I truly don't care about it. Like, it's a subject mentioned EVERY TIME.

In the penultimate issue of this post (92!), Iceman is here and considering he woudn't come out for another 4-5 decades, he's a jerk.

Look how he is, pretending he's straight!

Bobby's a breath of fresh air, literally but also figuratively. His powers are entertaining to see, after so much of Otto and Kingpin.

Meanwhile, Gwen's no silent observer. She very much channels our dear Natasha.

Meanwhile...

Wow, this is getting real, folks. ASM really starts affirming its politics from 1969 on.

It's page 10 and Iceman and Spidey are fighting for the second time in the same issue, and it feels endless.

And Robbie's kidnapped! Fuck.

But this panel ruined the tension and made me snicker.

Like I said, Iceman is a very pleasant addition to this otherwise... complicated arc. But what do I see? THE PROWLER'S BACK!?! Makes sense, given he was very popular (and rightfully so!). But he's going to be for the next post. We have Annual 7 to go through before!

I've read the first two stories before (as they're reprints from the very first two issues!) but not the last one, "A Guy Named Joe" (since I didn't read #38). So let's read it!

This is one issue before Norman reveals to Peter he's the Green Goblin. What a great guy indeed!

A protest scene that is sure handled differently than in 1969, huh!

MJ hadn't been showed yet! But she sure had a bust already.

Fun issue, nothing much to say, Joe Smith is an obvious name for an anonymous guy. It all ends well!

Overall, a mixed batch. It felt a bit too heavy at times compared to real life. Oof. Not that I necessarily disliked it...

#spiderman #amazing spiderman #comics #long post

[angelnovus]

beating the aviophobia allegations

#I did like a meditation and stuff today #literally almost faint every time I go on a plane but not this time!!! and without my silly good luck charm!!! #snark 2k22

[vennilavee]

Omg for the kiss prompt 1 w/ Gojo literally has my heart fluttering 💞

warning: jjk spoilers!! also this is kind of angsty and not that fluffy lmao

prompt: whispering ''kiss me'' to your lover

The streets are endless ahead of Gojo as he drags his feet, not quite able to bring himself to go home to an empty apartment. Street lights flicker but he pays them no mind. Despite a day of distractions, he can’t get this vacancy out of his mind. For all of his talents and finesse, he can’t just…shut off.

He can’t even get lost in this part of Tokyo. His Six Eyes won’t even allow for that mindless reprieve.

Cars come and go, honking as they please. Faint but vivid laughter can be heard from several meters away. His eyes are beginning to hurt, the beginnings of a headache forming in his mind. Would his Infinity turn off if he was to teleport in front of a car, he wonders idly.

Ultimately, he decides not to find out.

You’re unsurprised to hear your doorknob frantically turning at nearly midnight. You know what today is, after all. While you had chosen to mourn today unmoving and at home, Gojo had chosen to endure a day of missions and meetings.

He’d ignore your offer to spend the day together. But as always, he comes back to you. He thinks he needs to shoulder this pain alone, that it’s his burden to bear. Gojo doesn’t listen even as you try to reassure him otherwise. Once he gets like this, it’s hard to get through to him.

But, like clockwork, he comes around. He always does.

Gojo has had a spare key to your apartment for a long time. You think he might spend more time in your home than in his, but that’s a discussion for later. His own expansive apartment is barely lived in, the furniture looking pristine and as perfect as the day it was bought.

Your living space is almost the opposite of his. You exist in every corner and crevice of the four walls of this apartment, artwork and little trinkets that are reminiscent of you lining up the surfaces of your walls and your coffee table.

When you finally make the dreadful trek to your door and swing it open, Gojo pushes past you into your own apartment as if it’s his. You roll your eyes but let him have his moment. You know he needs it, after all.

His shoulders finally drop a few inches, tension seeping out of his gait as he removes his blindfold.

“It’s late,” you finally sigh.

“I know,” Gojo replies, peering out at the night sky from the space before your balcony.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” you murmur, moving closer to him a few inches. The sky from beyond your windows is pitch black, only the city lights reflecting in his eyes.

He laughs dryly, the answer the same as always. “No.”

You say nothing, only standing next to him and leaning your head against his arm. It’s quiet between you both. The sharp planes of his face are unreadable, his blue eyes a little dim. You wrap an arm around his narrow waist and side hug him wordlessly, the warmth of his skin beneath his clothes radiating into your palm.

His Infinity is down. You’re not surprised.

“I told you to stay with me. You work yourself too hard,” you chide him, “I miss him too, you know.”

Gojo says nothing for several minutes, only reveling in the warmth of your small hands. He turns a little to finally face you, shadows under his eyes uncharacteristically present. His large hand cradles your cheek and you smile sadly at him.

“I know,” he says throatily, the first words he utters to you all day, “I fucking miss Suguru so much.”

It’s one of the only days of the year that he allows himself to feel everything under the sun from that day. He allows himself to feel the emptiness that comes with killing his best friend as the gaping hole where his heart should be grows and grows. Until it’s unrecognizable. Until he’s recognizable.

Except to you. You always open your home and your heart to him with welcome arms. Gojo buries his nose in your neck when you pull him in for a hug. He trembles with the weight of your hands wound tightly around him like thick vines. Something wet coats the column of your neck and you realize he’s finally allowed himself to cry.

Your throat goes dry.

His shoulders shake as if the weight of this cursed world has finally crumbled. You manage to get him to sit on the sofa with you and Gojo wraps himself around you, on top of you. He lifts his head to look at you with frantic, cerulean eyes, cheeks still wet and bottom lip still trembling slightly.

He holds your face steady in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as he peers at you with the heat swimming in his irises. He’s squeezing you a little too tightly, to the point that it’s almost hurting. Almost. He’s trying to ground himself, anchor himself in reality. The way his heart beats against his ribcage But he continues to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze-

“Fuck,” he exhales, “Kiss me. Fucking kiss me, now-”

It’s messy and sloppy, spit warm and wet on your tongue as he devours you. His teeth knock against yours and you don’t know if he’s drawn blood from your bottom lip or if that’s just the taste of his tongue on yours, but you allow yourself to be consumed. You don’t know what he’s looking for, whether it’s you he sees or whether it’s Suguru he sees.

Still. You allow yourself to be consumed.

tags: @kentobean @aeanya

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader

[onmyyan]

Hi its me again. I love your writing and the fact that there isn't as much abuse like there is in others. It reminds me of old yandere stories were it was genuine lovesickness. Anyway, how do you think jjba yanderes would react to a darling that is taller and more muscular than them by quite a bit. You can do whoever you like I don't mind.

A/N: Omg ily🥺 it means a lot you said all that because I really love this genre it’s my comfort trope anyway thank you for the request n I hope ya like it!! Kira should be a trigger warning in an of itself but dw he’s just weird, not mean. Mentions of his past ‘girlfriends’, a curse word or two, lil suggestive in someplace’s Mista murks a few people, tw//gun violence

Characters: Pt2 Joseph, Josuke, Kira, Mista

Joseph was used to looking down on people, standing at a proud 6’5” he was literally and figuratively knocked on his ass when he’d first laid eyes on you, his immediate thought was you were a forgotten pillarman coming from nowhere to get revenge for your masters only to quickly realize you were just a stallion. You were strong enough to put him on his back after one too many cheeky comments. Unafraid to speak your mind and keep him in check, You would stare down at him with that mind melting smirk, all too aware of his frustrations, you assumed he was just being a man, ashamed to be outclassed by someone other than himself, oh honey how wrong you were. You enjoyed teasing the behemoth of a man as no one else really could, at least not as well as you did, throughout your little jabs and snark he always had a retort, a response on the tip of his tongue, eager to do this dance of yours until one of you broke, to you he was a way too cocky dangerously self assured pretty boy who was entertainingly easy to rile up, but to Joseph, you were his everything. Someone he could proudly take home to Granny Erina once he’d finally tamed you. He had a plan, a three step plan to steal your heart just as you’d done his, and this little game of who could annoy the other the most was just step 1. “It’s been fun JoJo but you’re gonna have to find someone else to bother.” You’d jokingly said one day out of the blue, an odd friendship had formed through the month you’d been in town and it felt wrong to leave without notice, an act of kindness you’d learn to regret. “Is this one of your famous jokes (Y/n)? Not so funny to play with a mans heart like that I nearly believed you.” He finished with a scoff, his signature smirk not reaching his eyes. “It’s true Joseph, my flight leaves tomorrow, I didn’t wanna leave without saying goodbye, because as much as we fuck around you’re pretty fun to hang out with.” Your sincerity almost made him feel bad about rushing the next few steps of his plan, he’d have to cram months of planning into a night but he’d accomplished more with less time on his side. He huffed, his grin stretched wide across his handsome features. “Then we outta make tonight count eh?” A thick arm was tossed around your neck, you had to bend awkwardly for this to be possible much to your amusement. “Okay you weirdo, whatever you say.” You let him lead you around town with a grin, unaware you’d be missing that plane, and any other one you tried to take without him.

Josuke watched you eat with the dopiest grin on his face, he’d spent an extra hour in the mirror this morning in preparation for your first official date! Well you didn’t exactly know it it was a date and Okayasu was eating rather messily beside you two but still! You’d actually agreed to come to Toni’s with him! You’d been an enigma since you transferred to the bizarre town, choosing to keep to yourself, and despite the intimidating height and mass you possessed, he saw through your act in seconds. There was a huge softie under all that muscle, he’d watched you enough to know this as a fact, you were a gem and he was intent on showing you his appreciation and adoration for the rest of his days, a vow he’d silently taken the day you’d stolen his heart, the moment was brief in reality but it lasted forever in his mind, you smiled at him in passing, he could feel time slow down, everyone around you faded in the background, a backdrop to the beginning of your story. He could imagine telling your kids how you’d met, something about the way you’d stare down at him, eyes sharp and attentive, like you truly listened when people spoke, your laugh was loud when it was real and every time he heard it he felt 10 years added to his lifespan. At the same time that icky feeling at another person making you laugh was conflicting, he’d never been in love before but he suddenly understood why his mom had never given up on his dad, love was weird but he wouldn’t give it up for anything. You’d accidentally snapped your chopsticks laughing too hard at a joke he’d tossed out, your face scrunched in embarrassment before chuckling at yourself and switching to a fork, his stand came out on its own, pocketing the shards to fix later, a new item for his ever growing collection, what a cute little memento from your first date! His thoughts swirled happily with the stories you’d be telling your kids. Thankfully neither of you noticed his little pickpocket moment, dangerous plans forming as he stared at you with those misleadingly soft puppy dog eyes.

Kira could die in this moment, happily I might add, as your firm but soft hand was wrapped oh so deliciously around his throat threatening to crush it with ease at the slightest movement. He’d been watching you for a while now, the longest he’d ever spent on someone he didn’t plan to kill, it become sort of hobby he’d picked up recently, the morally upsetting activity bringing peace to his day to day, usually he used his stand to carefully observe your routine, eager to learn all he could about his future spouses likes and desires, but he was getting greedy. Of course he could always introduce himself but he resisted, knowing there was a time and place to get exactly what he wanted. He liked to think he knew everything about you by now, your favorite color, how you liked your coffee, your love for cats, but he didn’t anticipate this. You were much more observant than he’d given you credit for, while you couldn’t see his stand you could sense yourself being watched, and seeing the large blonde lurking indiscriminately in the crowds throughout the day was enough to set you off. So you trailed off into the less crowded parts of town quickly entering an alleyway, he followed in pure confusion only to be roughly slammed into the wall, his stand came out on reflex but simply stared at his attacker, it seemed almost confused as what to do. “Why the hell are you following me pretty boy?” His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the feel of your fingers tightening, god he’d never felt this rush of exhilaration, none of his past ‘girlfriends’ could pull such an illicit reaction from him with a simple touch. When he didn’t answer you simply scoffed and tossed him aside like it was nothing. You left with a threat to stay out of your sight, yet all he could do was smile, the faint imprint of your fingers burned in his skin deliciously, how lucky could one man get?

Mista observed you with hungry eyes. His stare was unapologetically locked on your form. He made no intention to hide his attraction for you. The day you’d joined Buccarati’s crew was the day his world flipped. He assumed his new teammate would be no one to fuck with based on what Bruno told him about your stand, but when you walked in? Needing to bend down slightly just to enter the doorway had him sweating in his seat. He didn’t know what to say as he watched you happily interact with his fellow teammates, immediately you blended with the group, but all that was running through his mind were all the fun things you could do with those muscles. He usually stayed silent around you, not out of dislike as one would assume from his piercing gaze, but fear of accidentally voicing one of those nasty thoughts kept him quiet. You didn’t seem to mind though, always including him in the conversation, you even understood his very valid fear of that dreaded number! How could god plop such a perfect person in his lap and expect him to not do anything about it? Alas, Bruno had specifically told them not to make you uncomfortable with any flirting so he bit his tongue. Your aura was calming, a contrast to your powerful stand, speaking of, he couldn’t get his under control. Whenever they could Sex Pistols was out and all over you. They climbed and clamored for your attention, thankfully you didn’t seem to mind, always entertained their antics when you could, even giving each one a small peck when they wouldn’t let you leave for a mission without Mista, to say he was done for was an understatement, it took one mission going foul for his resistance to snap. His stand moved faster than it ever had, piercing the skulls of the idiots who brought you pain. He left the last one slowly bleeding out kneeling down to wipe the matted hair from your forehead, “You okay baby? Don’t worry honey I’ll make the bastard hurt.” He spoke not breaking eye contact, his hand pointed behind him, grip steady as he unloaded in the poor fool who thought it was a good idea to make you bleed, the wound was small, not even deep enough to trouble Giorno but that didn’t matter to Guido, any slight against you was disrespecting the future parent of his children, and what kind of man would he be if he didn’t defend your honor?

#yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jojo x reader #yandere Joseph #yandere josuke #yandere Kira yoshikage #kira yoshikage #josuke higashitaka #yandere x y/n #yandere imagine #yandere x reader #yandere mista #guido mista #yandere Joseph Jostar

[lihikainanea]

I recently reread your blurb about Bill wanting to join the mile high club but bonks his head, I had an idea. Tiger is getting small on a plane, Bill tells her to go and get off for him. Their seats are right near the bathroom door and the plane is almost completely empty, so he’s not worried. He starts getting more worked up when he hears her faint whimper from the door, thanking God no one could hear but him. When he goes in after, one of her cute thongs is in there, soaking wet, and he’s thinks he would just fuck her on the plane seat if he had any less self restraint.

Ah yes, the time Bill--big, sweet, dumb Bill--nearly knocked himself the fuck out.

The frequent flyer in me had to get over the initial ICK that is an automatic response whenever somebody mentions anything to do with an airplane bathroom. I mean, it's literally the grossest, most disgusting place ever. The bathrooms barely fit one human being just to do ya' bidniss, let alone two to get freaky--and the bathrooms in business class are just a smidgen bigger but smell equally as terrible and are equally as disgusting.

But I love this thought that like...tiger is sufferin'. She's been small for him all day and he has just stepped in and handled everything--he gave her his sweater when she was cold in the airport, he fixed her a plate in the airport lounge and gave her a stern look when she tried pouting and telling him she wasn't hungry. He smells so fucking good and his hair is all loose and gel-free, he's giving her that soft smile every now and then. Once they're seated on the plane he reaches into his bag and pulls out a fluffier pair of socks, hands them to her--she always kicks her shoes off on planes and she always needs an extra pair of socks because her feetsies get so cold. When she struggles with her blanket and pillow he just calmly takes it from her and helps her arrange it so that she's comfy, and before she can even blink there's a tumbler of scotch on the rocks being pushed into her hand, and he clinks his own glass against it in cheers.

And like, after some scotch, tiger went from small to downright needy. Because she's bundled in blankets, she's warm and fed, Bill's huge hand is engulfing her own under the cover and his thumb is absentmindedly stroking over her knuckles. He has headphones on while he reads, and she just stares at his profile--that beautiful nose, his high cheekbones, those plush lips pursed in thought. She whines, starts pawing at his chest, and he takes his headphones off.

“What’s up kid?” he asks, but one look at her and he sees it. His face softens, and he smiles gently at her. 

“Ohhhhh,” he says.

Tiger whines again, shifts in her seat and gives him a look that makes his heart melt. His eyes dart around, trying to figure out a plan.

“Billy,” she whines.

“I know kid,” he soothes, “I know. But I can’t here. We won’t both fit in the bathroom.”

She whines again, huffing and Bill pulls her in for a kiss.

“Can you take care of it yourself?” he murmurs in her ear, “Go into the bathroom and be a good girl for me?”

She huffs again--it’s not the solution she wants but damn she’s pent up.

“I can...I can try,” she stammers. Bill unbuckles her seatbelt for her.

“Try for me sweet girl,” he says, and he gives her ass a small pat as she stands. She gives him one last pitiful look before she makes her way to the bathroom, and Bill has to readjust his pants to cover the growing bulge.

Not even five minutes later, the door to the bathroom swings open and tiger goes back to her seat and sits down abruptly with her arms crossed. He can tell by the way her eyebrows are pinched together, he can tell by her scowl, that it didn’t work.

“No dice, huh?” he says sympathetically. Tiger looks like she’s about to burst into tears--and then it hits him. He has something. He didn’t pack it in his checked luggage in case it uh, went off and alerted security. He does a quick check for wifi on the flight and sighs in relief when he finds a signal, then he stands and takes his bag down from the overhead. Tiger watches him, biting back a moan when his shirt lifts just a little  as his arms are up, a small strip of his belly above his belt visible.

He sits back down, rummages a bit, and then discreetly hands her a small device.

“Go put this in your panties and hold onto something,” he whispers to her. Tiger peeks at the smooth object in her hands, and then her eyes light up as she scrambles to her feet.

“Tiger,” he grabs her wrist before she runs down the aisle, “Hold on to something, okay?”

Tiger can be a little enthusiastic when she needs it bad, and the last thing he wants is for her to thrash a little too hard and end up concussed and passed out in an airplane bathroom.

He gives her a minute, and then he starts tapping buttons on his phone. He starts her off real slow, but she’s so pent up that even the slowest of vibrations is already doing the trick. He builds her up for a few minutes, before increasing the intensity and even from a few rows back he can hear her loud cuss as she comes.

He doesn’t stop the vibrations. Not until he’s relatively sure she’s had at least another two. 

The bathroom door opens eventually and tiger has a dopey, high smile on her face. Her cheeks are flushed and Bill can see the rapid rise and fall of her heavy breathing as she wobbles back to the seat. Just for fun, he gives her another strong zap and he chuckles as her knees give and she lets out a woop that scares the hell out of the passenger she nearly fell on. She stumbles back to her seat.

“You didn’t take it out,” he muses. Tiger just shifts, breathes out a pleasured sigh, and goes boneless against the seat.

“Why would I do a silly thing like that?” she says. Bill gives her a quick kiss, then a tap on her nose.

“Buckle up kid,” he whispers to her, “There’s still 9 hours to go.”

Tiger comes another 11 times before the landing gear hits the runway, clutching onto his hand in a vice grip while Bill just smiles.

#bill skarsgard #BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard drabble #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard fanfic #bill skarsgard fiction #bill skarsgard fic #vacation bill

[juniorgman187]

Any Day Now (Reid Fic)

A/N: Plz imagine being impregnated by season 10 Spencer Reid. WHEWW CHILE

Summary: Reader’s pregnancy finally takes its toll on her, leaving both Spencer and Reader to navigate through rough waters from miles away.  Category: Fluff, Soft-soft-soft angst, One-Shot Pairing: (POV)Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Content Warning: Pregnancy Word Count: 3.2k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

At first, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

Multiplied mood swings? Understandable, her hormones were everywhere. 

An ever-changing appetite? Great, at least now it wasn’t such a hassle for her to decide where to eat. 

A suddenly much tighter FBI vest? Well, that’s what the adjustable velcro straps were for. 

Again, nothing that I hadn’t already planned for. Even before I delved into parenting books galore, I had a pretty good general idea of what to expect. Not only because of JJ’s earlier pregnancy or Kate’s recent one, but more so because of my extensive knowledge of the human anatomy. This made riding the storm of (y/n)’s pregnancy easier ... until it didn’t. 

It was somewhere in her 35th week that things finally got the best of her. 

There was a linear increase of events that suggested things were taking a turn for the worse, so I slightly anticipated a steep decline to occur at any moment. For instance, soon after (y/n) started showing, I began to lose count of how many times I had to insert my hand between her seatbelt and her bump to create a gap just big enough so that the belt wouldn’t have such a suffocating restriction on her. Nor could I fully account for all the hours of sleep she’d lost tossing and turning, just trying to find a comfortable position where she wouldn’t be crushed by her own weight. And I certainly couldn’t remember, not even with my eidetic memory, how many times she’s almost walked out of the house completely barefoot after getting frustrated with her inability to put shoes on by herself. 

In some sad way, I knew she wished to regain some normalcy in her life. Not that she regretted motherhood, but that she wished she didn’t have to experience so many small inconveniences that summed up to something larger than the life she was helping come into fruition.

She just wanted to drink coffee again without running the risk of a miscarriage. She wanted to climb up a flight of stairs without getting winded by the first few steps. She wanted to put on a tight shirt without looking exceptionally overweight. And most of all, she just wanted to keep working.

If she had to go to hell and back to stay in the BAU while pregnant, then to hell and back she went. 

My wife, as stubborn as ever, had made me - and the entire team - promise not to baby her as soon as we revealed that we were expecting. 

“I don’t want any of that ‘but you’re pregnant’ crap, got it?” She narrowed her eyes darkly at all of us, pointing an accusatory finger. “Anything you can do, I can do pregnant.”

And from that day on, she did what she vowed to do, what I knew she could do. She still chased after unsubs, shot all the bad guys, arrested the felons, but eventually - inevitably - it wore down on her. 

The easiest effect I could identify was her drowsiness. It used to take her a while to fall asleep on the jet, and sometimes, she’d stay awake the entire flight. But after the grueling hours she’d endured during her pregnancy, we would barely board the plane before she knocked out. I think falling asleep in the seats gave her the comfort she couldn’t find lying horizontally in a bed. No one said anything, though, because she’d already made it explicitly clear that she didn’t want us to pay her any special treatment, which I understood. Nobody likes to be pitied, but after today’s incident, this went far beyond pity. 

It was just plain concern. 

“The doctor said I’ll be fine.” She grumbled, waving me away with a flick of her hand. However, seeing as she was currently lying in a hospital bed, donning a gown that only partially hid from me all the wires and pads that stuck to her body to monitor her health and relay it to the machines - she wasn’t fine. And I needed her to know that I wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the team. (I didn’t tell her this because she would’ve quite literally took my head off, but they were all out there in the waiting room instead of working on the case). 

“Emphasis on the future tense ‘will.’ You will be fine, but right now, you’re not.” I prepared myself to deliver the news I knew she didn’t want to hear. My voice became significantly quieter, reaching such a low decibel I wasn’t sure she’d even hear it, but maybe that was by design. She didn’t want to hear it as much as I hated to say it. “Maybe you should consider going on maternity leave now.”

Immediately, my wife shook her head with the biggest pout I’d ever seen. I could see it in the way her lip quivered that she was about to cry, no doubt because of the hormones, but especially because this job was her last piece of normality. She clung to it because it was all she had left to remind herself that she was still, in some capacity, the woman she was before. 

“Spencer, please.” She begged, as if I could do anything. “I’m not ready to leave yet.” 

I pursed my lips and looked away for a second to hide my own emotions. Seeing her cry was never easy, but being the cause for it made this even harder. I felt the formation of a lump in my throat and the pricking of tears in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I croaked. “But I can’t let you keep risking your health,” I explained, neglecting to voice the final part of that sentence. ‘Or our baby’s.’ But I didn’t say that. How could I? It would’ve only guilted her further. 

“Your blood pressure’s getting higher,” I explained, keeping my eyes steady on hers, not letting them stray to the machine that she clearly didn’t know how to read. But with one glance at the numbers, I already knew they weren’t good. I didn’t lead on just how bad they were, though. “You fainted today, and if you’d landed even a little bit differently, you would’ve ended up with a lot more than just a few scratches on your stomach.” That was the extent of my guilt-tripping. It didn’t feel right coming out of my mouth, but it was the only way I knew she would understand the severity of the situation. 

“You were already planning on going on maternity leave next week, what’s a few days earlier?” I asked, briefly referring back to her obstetrician’s recommendation of not flying after her 36th week. 

We both agreed that after week 36, she’d take her leave of absence since she couldn’t join us on the jet anyway. It was our ‘compromise.’ If she insisted on still going in the field, then she had to listen to the doctor’s orders and not fly for the last month. 

“Spencer,” She whispered again, this time with tears running down her cheeks at the bat of her eyes. With the pad of my thumb, I gently wiped them away, wishing I’d never caused them to be there in the first place. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

She never let on how difficult things had become for her. She never said it’s too much (and it must be too much some of the time). So when she finally admitted the burden her pregnancy had created, I could already sense its arrival. So without a second wasted, I pulled the guest chair right up next to her bed and sat in it while reaching for her hand. Despite the presence of the pulse oximetry on her index finger, I still took her hand between both of my own, not minding the gap that the device created. 

“You are the strongest woman I know. There aren’t many pregnant women out there who can do what you’ve done these past eight months. They wouldn’t even think of it.” We shared a brief laugh, which lightened the atmosphere enough to encourage me to continue. “You are bearing our child, (y/n). Nobody else gets to do that. Not me. Not another girl. Just you. It’s only you who can truly give for our baby right now and you’re -you’re my girl ... and right now, I need you to take care of our girl, okay?”

She nodded rapidly with still glistening eyes. For the first time, that day, she stopped thinking her job was as an agent and started knowing her job was as a mother. 

And a damn good one at that. 

_ _ _

If there was anything I’d learned over the past years, it was that I should never expect my wife to follow the rules. Today was no exception. 

She should’ve been in bed right now, taking it easy, but instead, she was standing right beside the jet, saying goodbye to each and every one of us before we boarded. 

This would be our first flight without her. 

“You take care, mama, okay?” Morgan told her, kissing her cheek before waving goodbye. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much.” Kate sighed, engulfing (y/n) in a hug that I knew couldn’t have been comfortable with each of their bumps in the way, but they relished in it anyway. If I didn’t know any better, it looked like Kate was about to cry. Maybe that’s because their dynamic was different than any other. Their simultaneous pregnancies meant that they knew one another’s struggles far better than any of us could, so granted, it would be hard for Kate and (y/n) to be away from each other. They’d been in this journey together after all, in a way I couldn’t have been.

“Oh,” JJ sighed happily, taking (y/n) in her arms and swaying gently from side to side. “You are going to be the best mother ever.” 

“Said the best mother ever.” (Y/n) remarked, laughing bittersweetly. It was something in her smile that let me know it was just for show. 

Then, in one of the rarest moments of history, Hotch hugged (y/n), earning a slightly more real smile from her.

“Get some rest. You deserve it.” He whispered. 

Not even a second after they pulled away did Rossi wait to take (y/n)’s face in his hands and plant two kisses, one on either cheek. 

“If you need anything, you call us.” He ordered, mimicking a drill sergeant.

And though, I wasn’t ready, I found myself making my way to her, getting ready for one of the hardest goodbyes. 

She wrapped her arms around my torso and let her head press against my heart. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this without you.” 

For the first time that night, she wasn’t faking a smile or putting on a face. I knew when she was saying goodbye that she was only laughing and grinning for everyone else, but underneath it all, she was experiencing a great sadness that no one else could understand. Everyone was just as excited as we were for this baby, if for no other reason than I was finally going to have a family of my own. That I’d finally found the people who were going to be there for me forever. And maybe it was that knowledge, the knowledge of how happy this baby made others, was the reason she never let it show just how hard it was for her. Otherwise, it’d ruin the fantasy. And so she wore happiness like a mask to hide the profound pain that would’ve wounded our spirits. 

“Hey, I’m not leaving you forever,” I whispered somberly, hugging her a little tighter. “And if anything happens, I’m just a phone call away.” As much as I tried to believe my words, neither of us could find the truth in it. Even I knew I wasn’t just a phone call away. I’d be miles and miles and miles away from two of the best things that have ever happened from me. 

She inhaled sharply and pulled away from me, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the hope that I hadn’t already seen them. “I should probably let you go now.” She laughed lightly. 

Our bodies parted, but I had yet to let go of her hand. I shook it up and down gently as I told her, “I love you.”

She shook my hand back in just the same manner. “We love you, too.” 

A smile crept onto my face after the immediate realization of what she meant. 

My girls.

At last, when I walked up the steps to the jet, I finally let go of her hand at the last moment possible, and even after we released hands, our arms stayed outstretched for a passing second as the distance between them got further and further. With the warmth of her hand leaving mine vacantly cold, I watched as she replaced it on the very top of her stomach, as if to say, “We’ll be okay.” 

_ _ _

“Reid?” 

I refocused my vision to Morgan who was calling my name. From the look on his face, I realized he probably tried to get my attention multiple times before this. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” I shook my head to clear my mind, but it didn’t work. A part of me was still in another world, lingering in thought. 

My mind would never shut up about her, but it seemed like today, it was firing all these things at me at 2x speed. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact event that I felt guilty for, but really - take your pick. It could’ve been anything, it could’ve been everything. 

It could’ve been the fact that I was here and she wasn’t. It could’ve been the fact that in those last moments I saw her, I realized just how strong she was being this entire time, and how I was asking her to be even stronger, as if the weight of the world wasn’t enough. It could’ve been the realization that she was struggling this entire time, but never asked for help, thinking that she’d be a burden - the very thing she made us promise not to let her be. That is the reason after all, that she told us not to let her pregnancy be an excuse for anything. Because if she didn’t contribute anything, then she’d be holding us back - she’d be dead weight. I knew that, and yet, what did I do?

Nothing. I walked away and boarded that fucking jet like a brainless idiot.

I should’ve stayed with her. 

Morgan’s eyes turned to slits while he tossed the manila folder onto the table, seemingly setting it aside so it wouldn’t be a distraction from his question. “What’s going on, man?” 

I shrugged, pretending not to know exactly what he was talking about. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just zoned out, that’s all.” 

Clearly exasperated, he said, “Come on, man. Don’t do that. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Whether it was defeat or a sweet surrender, I tucked my hands in my pockets and let my head hang low, eyes glued to the ground. Unexpectedly, I was sniffling and wiping my nose before I could register that tears were already coming. “I’m just worried about her.” 

It felt stupid to admit, especially considering I saw her only 8 hours, 37 minutes, and 12 seconds ago. But the absence of her and our baby was growing more and more apparent with every passing moment I spent in this office without her. Usually, she would be here to keep me company, bothering me while I located the comfort zone - not that she ever really did bother me. I quite liked her presence. 

Sometimes, when I was left alone, the room would get too quiet, and it’d just be me and my thoughts. And maybe she knew how scared of my own mind I was when it wandered, so she never let me be alone with it - never let the room get too quiet. She would talk and talk and talk, and I could never get tired of listening. Her voice was like white noise. If she was here, things would be as they always were. I would be standing at the map, and she’d no doubt be sitting in a chair, rubbing gentle circles around her protruding stomach as I felt her watching me intently. 

“Found it.” I would say, drawing a big red circle around the zone. 

To which she would say, “You’re a genius.” 

Sure, I’ve been called ‘genius’ a million times before, but it never felt the same as when she said it. 

Morgan could see the invisible pain in my chest, and he pulled me in by my shoulder to wrap his arm around me. It might not have looked like it, but it was the most reassuring hug he could’ve given me. I can’t explain it, but it felt like (y/n)’s warmth and love had possessed his body and he was radiating it now. 

“I know it’s scary, man, and honestly, we all wish we could be with her right now. But trust me when I tell you she’s not alone.” He treaded carefully with his words, and I could tell there was something he wasn’t saying but that wanted me to figure out.

I didn’t even have to verbalize my question because soon enough, when Morgan pulled back, his phone began to ring.

“It’s Garcia.” He told me, though he didn’t answer the call, which was weird enough. But then he gestured to the computer on the table, and so I half-heartedly watched as the screen changed from the blue background to a video call with Garcia. 

And who else would be sitting beside her but my wife?

“Look who I’ve got with me!” Garcia squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“You’re supposed to be on bedrest.” I playfully scolded her.

“I was! I was, I promise. But after I said goodbye to you guys, I went home and got four hours of sleep, and then I went to my doctors appointment, but then when I was driving home, I thought why would I go back there when I’ve got everything I need right here?” She motioned around Garcia’s lair, even lifting up a hospital-go bag that Penelope no doubt compiled just for her. If there was anyone I trusted to take good care of her, it was Garcia. 

Like I said before, I learned to expect (y/n) not to follow the rules. So naturally, she found a way to still work even on maternity leave. 

At this point, the rest of the team neatly filed into the room, erupting in cheers of excitement at the sight of (y/n) in the bat cave. 

“Is everything okay?” JJ worriedly asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine! Baby looks good, my blood pressure’s getting better, so we’re doing okay.” She smiled proudly, and so did I. That was her first appointment on her own, and though it couldn’t have been easy, especially this late in her term, she did it anyway. Because that’s my girl.  

“When are you due, again?” Kate asked (y/n), earning an enthusiastic, “Doctor says if she’s on time, New Year’s Eve!” 

It never failed to make me smile whenever she brought up her due date. She was always excited to proclaim that our daughter might be brought into the world at the exact time we brought in the new year. 

“But if I’m early, it could be any day now.” She explained. 

Here’s where I had to cut in. “Hopefully not any day now! I don’t wanna miss it.” 

“You won’t!” She promised through a wide grin.

Something else you should know about my girl? She always keeps her promises. 

And on January 1, at exactly 12:00 - just as promised - I had the privilege of watching (y/n) deliver a healthy 6 pound and 9 ounce baby girl.

The weight of my whole world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Can you tell I love it when someone says “my girl”? I think that’s my favorite pet name ever. 

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#spencer reid #spencer reid pregnant #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #juniorgman187 #any day now

[siriusmydeer]

my pretty witch

james potter x fem!reader

summary: james shows you how beautiful your body is.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: soft dom!james, sub!reader, fingering, fem!receiving oral, body insecurities, self doubt, missionary, penetration, marking, daddy kink, kissing, praise, mentions of sickness, wolfstar mention <3

note; requested.

the birds were singing, the sun was glowing, it was the most memorable saturday of the spring season.

students were speaking amongst themselves as the birds were increasingly chirping and the glinting sun that was only visible hanging planet in the sky that was emitting shimmering rays upon the two girls sitting amongst themselves. the faint gust of wind peering as subtle background noise whilst the rest of the courtyard was trifling around on the weekend.

“'m not sure lils, i just feel— it’s hard to explain.” you began to explain with an expression of embarrassment starting to linger on your face, a simple yet prying conversation amongst the ginger whilst you both sat upon the fresh-cut grass upon the millions of acres that belonged to hogwarts.

students of hogwarts were fairly spaced out upon the yard, as well as corridors and the library with madame pince no doubt hurrying them away to keep the tranquility rather in unbroken, as it was one of the first warm days for weather since the scotland air was filled with ivory flecks that completely covered the viridescent grounds.

almost no gryffindor peers around only the two of you insight. james, remus, peter, and sirius had all made their way closer to the quidditch pitch the minute they left breakfast; mainly so james could practice alongside sirius, and they could prance around the pitch on their brooms like first years who had just learned how to fly, as remus and peter watched. mainly peter, remus had cracked open his most latest read as soon as he sat upon the stands whilst faintly blushing from time to time at sirius’ winks and irritatingly pleasant wolf whistles.

what you hadn’t known was james leaving his mates with each other slightly earlier than expected in a quest for his girlfriend.

he had a glistering grin formed on his lips after catching sight of you speaking amongst lily. he was ready to parade over to you and boast about his newest quidditch tricks he had learned whilst sitting upon your lap ruining the serene aura that swarmed around your conversation with the ginger.

the deviant sun flickered delicate rays over your figure, to james you were effortlessly gleaming in the golden hues that radiated upon your skin.

his girl.

how could someone be so utterly beautiful?

the only thing diminishing his smile from the apex of his lips was when he was close enough to catch wind of your conversation with the gryffindor.

“i don't want him to think ‘m disgusting or anything! i just— i have stretch marks and stuff. i don't wanna be unappealing or something.” you whined following a groan whilst tilting your head back, covering your eyes at the slowly sinking sun radiating into your irises.

lily gaped at you befuddled before speaking, “but i mean, you’ve had sex before—” she spoke rather boisterously, you rapidly took the palm of your hand, clutching it over her mouth before she removed it and continued speaking, “and he's never been ‘disgusted’ or anything prior.” she finished in a whisper at your widen eyes; your face contorting into fear, afraid someone had heard what she said.

“’m just nervous that just because he doesn't express anything, doesn't mean he doesn't think it.” you chewed heavily at the skin of your peeling lips before applying a fresh layer of chapstick to the chapped cushions.

the awareness of your pending stress began to become overwhelming in your veins as you expressed your concerns to lily.

the bespectacled boy less than ten feet away from you tremendously creased his features in bewilderment, his face almost permanently contorting into a grueling grimace. did he ever do anything to make you think you were undesirable to him? you were quite literally an angelic essence that roamed the acres of hogwart’s at every waking moment of the day, it was like he had won the lottery, (something muggle-like you had mentioned to him) when you had agreed to go on a date with him.

and now you suspected something he couldn't even imagine in a nightmare.

he stayed a moment longer, listening to you drone on upon the fact he might've found you horrid or repelling. his psyche opting to trudge back to the gryffindor towers where he had originally planned to meet with you after your meet-up with lily.

what decision could've reveled in your mind to decide that he might've thought grueling thoughts on the certain aspects of your psychical appearance that he particularly found beautiful. your personality was captivating, of course. but that didn't mean he wouldn't bore his eyes into your figure trying to memorize every micro-detail of you and your features. any juncture of time he had with you he would spend adorning every aspect of you, when you happen to be separated he would spend his mind fulfilling images of you.

there wasn't one moment where he wasn't thinking of you.

and there wasn't one singular nanosecond he didn't think you weren't a goddess walking the earth.

even before you had brushed your teeth on particularly rough mornings before classes when the mangled tuffs of your hair that clung to your roots before brushing it, even when you were blowing your nose and heaving the tissues onto the ground when you were adamantly sick and you couldn't even whiff the most pungent scents; you were angelic.

so how in merlins name would you think so negatively of yourself?

james proceeded to haul his legs in pacing motions across the floor whilst he awaited your presence in the vermillion stricken common room. his thoughts overwhelming him on the mere thought of you and your psyche negatively impacting every nook and cranny of your mind-- which he would opt to remove any moment he got the chance to.

at the tumble of his limbs moving around the common room he heard a similar pair of footsteps enter the common room, “you alright, love?” you inquired gently, your figure tremendously slouched and drowsy after being in overwhelming embarrassment, the quick spin of his figure catching your attention.

“should i not have—” you initiated to speak again, your words almost completely disorganized, speaking first rather than overthinking your words at his slight apprehensive behaviors since you had arrived mere seconds ago.

“i love you,” he began, now walking over to your tense figure, “and you're my person,” said james in a rapid pace, the words of his tongue rolling off haphazardly. you began to crease your eyebrows confusedly at his confession, his hands deciding to sit on both sides of your fragile jaw that began to clench in the encasement of his palms.

you were adamantly confused at where his arbitrary confession had sprouted from, and the intentions behind it.

“’m quite aware, yes?” you sighed in the duration of your sentence recalling the conversation over your appearance with lily just a few minutes ago, now defiantly looking at your shoes before speaking again. “why the sudden confession, james?” you inquired again, this time sorrowfully.

“’m not an eavesdropper or anything,” he began to defend himself, seeing your eyes hastily peer ascent to him along with the widening of your eyes, “but, i— i heard what you said to lily.” he finished his sentence wistfully. you respired heavily for a moment, your hands now clutching onto his that remained laid onto your complexion.

“just, i dunno. ignore my thoughts, they’re stupid.”

his eyes proceeded to widen at your request. his reaction to being adamantly confused was contorted in the features of his face like he had been peering over the defense against the dark arts section on an O.W.L.S exam after not studying for a week.

“i could never just ignore you. i care about what you think, m’love.” he dragged the pad of his thumb against the dermis of your cheek, feeling the broad flush of your skin begin to warm the velvet palms of hands. “i just— i can't explain it.”

there was a detrimental feeling pooling in your mind at the feeling of embarrassment beginning to tinge your cheeks. you felt as if you were in the middle of a school audition and suddenly forgot all of your lines, the insistent feeling of unworthiness popping up in your mind every couple of minutes like a menace throughout your life.

“c’mon, darling,” he whispered whilst beckoning you, removing his hands that were clutched onto the apple of your cheeks now sliding his digits through your own. the balmy feeling of his palm radiating into yours was the only steady grasp you had while he had led you into his empty dormitory.

his emotions continued to display as unknown whilst he sat upon the vermillion knit comforter that laid quite messily upon his bed. his legs began to open whilst he brought your body between them. his palms making a heavy grip upon the curvature of your waist, and his thumb now stroking the cotton material that adorned your figure. his thumb gliding down to the hem, suddenly feeling the warm flush of your skin melding into his own.

“let me make you feel good.” james began to plead, his face quirking into a mild pout. your mind reflecting on your insecurities for a moment, the ripples in your skin, the vergetures tissue that was rooted upon your flesh, but as of right now that was now to be the least of your concerns that ventured in your mind.

the pads of his calloused palm lingered to the planes of your lower back to the swell of your bottom, his hands palming at the denim material while he awaited your answer; you merely nodded your head, his grin increasingly growing whilst his grip managed to maneuver you hurriedly onto the middle of his bed. your legs slightly fumbling before your spine was adjacent to his mattress.

his lip was now faintly tucked under the cushion of his lip while his athletic form began to hover over your body. the ivory white top you were dressed in was now being pulled down to the point of the exposure of your brassiere, and the dewy kisses emitting from his lips were now faintly pressed against the mantle of your skin.

his fingers feebly started to grasp at the flimsy material of your top before raising it over the undulating form of your body, his hand flinging the pallid fabric onto the mahogany wood of his dormitory. james had now buried his head between your supple mounds that laid gracefully on your chest, his swirling tendrils of brunet tickled at the planes of your jugular.

he felt the slight respire hitching in your chest while lips suckled at the skin that guarded your sternum, the slight blossoming hue rested in the juncture of your chest whilst his lips proceeded to move around your midriff.

the silk tresses of his brunet tuffs faintly titillated at your abdomen as the sponges of his kisses landed directly on the lower regions of your abdomen. his lips continuing to suction recurrent markings till the fluorescent blooms of umber and vermillion spilled delicately onto the searing flesh of your midriff.

his cerulean eyes peeled off of the buckle from your jeans, his eyes now sauntering out your face, and your arms now balancing yourself so you can gape into his eyes. he tilted his head in question, emitting a second nod of confirmation from you. taking it upon himself to rid of your clothing from your legs, leaving his hand traveling into the flimsy sheet of scarlet lace you had been clad in.

his finger swirled upon the swollen button once, releasing an enclosed gasp from your lungs that had been held in your trachea. his hands grasping upon the tight material and removing it from your body before looking at the sopping folds of your cunt.

once, twice, three times, he glided his fingers through your arousal effortlessly before attaching his lips to the swelled nub, proceeding to suckle like a babe. his tongue exploring your cunt whilst your wavering moans were transferring through the air. he began to maneuver your legs to balance on the bend of his shoulders whilst your pending moans lay enticingly in the air; your feeble digits feeling the strain of his tuffs in the clutch of your fingers at his arousing stimulation.

his ring and middle finger began to prod at your entrance before sliding into the depths of your aching cunt nimbly. his tongue stretched upon the crevices of your cunt while it collected your sickly nectar on the tip of his tongue, his face now buried in your cunt.

the unyielding quiver in your legs around his head was only steely increasing as he etched you closer and closer upon release. the bubbling moans exuding from your throat only increasing his current pride at your pleasureful noises making him grin into your cunt until you were pleading out to him, rather desperately.

“daddy, please. can i cum?”

“since you asked so nicely.” he retorted to your question enticingly. removing his mouth as his fingers recurrently impelled in the silken encasement of your cunt until your legs were trembling over his shoulders, and your mind had finally bleared out from the explosive butterflies that now lingered in your belly.

he caught sight of a few unwavering mauve lines that retracted in the inside flesh of your thighs, pressing a few absentminded kisses to them before his body began to hover over your own.

the bespectacled boy had now removed the indigo shirt from his body, his abdomen and rippling muscles were now in desolate from your slightly fatigued eyes. his body now recurrently hovering over your heaving one. his thumb swiped against your cheek once before his eyes came in the direct view of your churning abdomen.

he lowered his face till his nose was slightly smeared against your rib cage and his lips came in direct contact with the mauve and pallid lines you had been so doggedly insecure about.

his hands now placed on the curvature of your waist, admiring the stripes that now defined your midsection. tracing the small lines on the left, on the right, then craning his neck under your thighs so he could press a few absentminded kisses to the swell of your bum.

when he had returned from your underside, now catching your lips in a kiss. the hues of orange and red now bleeding into the atmosphere of the room, the sun slowly setting in the underworld amongst the other planets whilst he removed the remaining articles of clothing that had lingered on your figures.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into the junction of your neck, landing directly on your pulse point that had been unwaveringly erratic. “astonishingly beautiful, my angel.” he crooned into the curvature of your neck whilst his lips moved to the crease of your jaw.

his hands delicately were fixed on the apex of your thighs, the limbs hanging closely on the burly muscles of his waist. “please, daddy. need you so bad.” you began to mewl while his cock had nudged faintly at your thigh.

at your words, james leisurely filled you to the brim with his cock until the happy trail sprouted ascent his lower abdomen was now pressed against your hips in a minuscule grinding-like motion.

his forearms now embedding into the mattress beside your hair that was cascading around your face similar to a halo that an angel wore proudly, his hips continuously grinding against your hips whilst your ankles were brought into a tight lock on the lower curvature of his spine.

“my pretty girl.”

the motions of his thrusts were steady and protracted. the movements drawing out your orgasms substantially, rather than the feeling of intense euphoric elation, it’s rather prolonged and comforting in the small snap of a coil that trembled in your belly.

the searing flush of your skin colliding with one another whilst his mouth had now been placed upon your own once more. your arms now resting on the nape of his neck, the minuscule scratch, and tug of your fingers bringing him to center of the actions he was trying to exhibit towards you.

his love, his adoration, his appreciation.

the small kisses he left on your hairline whilst he was etched closer, and closer upon his release until the splintering clench in his belly had profusely slackened . “you’re so captivating.” he crooned amid your kiss after separating his lips from yours for a moment.

the meld of his skin against your own was enticing and inviting. his tongue swept into your mouth to envelop the feeling of you just a little more before the ropes of his release had seeped into the depths of your cunt; only deepening the liplock whilst his prick had remained inside of you.

it wasn't a long duration of time before james quickly scrambled away to dress you in his freshly cleaned vermillion and umber quidditch jumper and a pair of his boxer shorts, quickly cuddling close to your side whilst placing a few last kisses to your forehead before he had changed into a pair of sweatpants himself and beckoned you to lay on his chest.

“you m’dear, are, completely, and irrevocably bewitching. my pretty witch.”

taglist: @miss-starkov @ronbrokemyheart @aricela @inglourious-imagines @moonyinthelight @bikinibottomspeach @myalo-vasano-psixis @i-love-scott-mccall @kirascottage @five-cups-of-coffee @myloveforluna @abbott27 @hufflepuffsfordraco @slytherclawbitch @ggmniy @90steaology

#james potter one shot #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #james potter x oc #james potter x you #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter angst #james potter blurb #james potter hc #james potter headcanon #james & peter & remus & sirius #harry potter stuff #harry potter oneshot #harry potter fic #harry potter fluff #harry potter blurb #harry potter drabble #harry potter headcanon #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #harry potter

[fandom-hoarder]

(Later seasons) Pregnant Sam (maybe 3 or 4 monyjs pregnant) getting hit by a spell and he and Dean getting sent to Purgatory

(Castiel and rowena (and/or others) work from earth to try and get them back)

Dean being insanely protective of Sam, with how the monsters seem to be able to smell Sams' condition and are even more bloodthirsty while hunting the brothers/lovers

Sam being really tired, (the baby taking up a lot of his energy) so Dean watches over him as he sleeps

Maybe Dean and sam sitting over a small fire talking about baby names and laughing about how weird it is that they are literally talking about baby names in purgatory

Maybe they get themselves out, maybe they don't? Maybe Sam has the baby in purgatory? Or maybe they get out just in time?

Omg, the drama! The angst! I apologize in advance for the direction my brain took this...

The thing about purgatory that Dean took with him was how pure it was. The raw energy of just going all out on monsters all the time. No need to eat or sleep or think. Just the power of his body and the will to last.

Now, he and Sammy are both trapped here and that pureness is pure terror. He wishes he had time to think.

The first few days were fine--they had each other's backs and Sam's condition didn't slow them down much. His morning sickness even seemed to be muted the way all the colors on this plane were, so he could even outrun Dean if needed. Dean rushed to get his bearings and lead them to the 'back door exit,' not giving any time to Sam's ponderings of how they even got there and why, because it didn't matter--he knew how to get them out.

Now it's week three--as far as either of them can manage to keep time here--and Dean's really getting worried. They haven't found the rift, and Sam has gotten quiet--too quiet, even in this place where they're constantly being hunted. And Dean can't find anything to break the silence--not when their baby hasn't moved since they got here. Not when Dean can't think of any answers to the worries he sees in Sam's eyes, refusing to give them voice.

Not when Sam seems to be growing weaker by the day; his body exhausted, his pallor ever more sickly. He tries to eat something, despite the lack of recognizable plants and a complete lack of natural wildlife. He throws everything up.

Dean starts to wish there were demons here for Sam to drain and put some color back in his cheeks. Every time the thought rises, Dean has to swallow down the gorge that rises with it. Even as a hypothetical, he can't stomach the thought of what that would do to Sam--to their baby.

He hears a faint crunch nearby and is on high alert. Glances at Sam--head resting on Dean's thigh; hair a sweaty, bloody tangle; forehead pinched even in rest; fetal position cradling his small baby bump. Dean wishes he could let him sleep. He can't run and fight carrying Sam bridal style, though, and the last time he tried to fireman carry him, Sam almost had a meltdown about his delicate baby bump in the middle of their high stakes hide-and-seek game.

Sam is slow to wake up--worryingly so, and Dean drags him to his feet with an arm pulled over his shoulder and practically frog-marches Sam to get him going. Once his feet are moving, though, his body goes into autopilot. Sam even gets a burst of speed in him when he finally hears their pursuers himself.

Dean gets them to a clearing and swings them around to finally get a look at what he's dealing with. It's the vamps again--the nicely-clothed ones that do the Alpha's bidding now that he's down here. Unlike most of the nasty things in here with them, the vamps have a plan for their baby other than eating it--use it to get out, and then groom the child for feeding the same way they did that other girl.

The one problem with their plan, though, is that nothing grows here--except leviathan corpse flowers.

"You're getting weaker," the well-dressed vamp in front says, leering past Dean to Sam, and Dean is too pissed to even appreciate the stereotypical accent she uses. "The baby weakens, too. But we can help you with that."

Dean doesn't need to see the gleam in their eyes or their be-fanged smirks to know their help is a death trap. He reaches for Sam, worried his brothermate will be swayed in his current state, but Sam squeezes Dean's hand in reassurance.

"Yeah, right. I'm sure you have the best obstetrician in all of purgatory. Not interested," Sam huffs, trying not to let his fear and exhaustion show in his voice. Trying not to cling onto Dean and clutch his belly protectively.

The main vamp grins so wide Sam gets a cold sweat at the possibility it's actually a leviathan for a moment. "As a matter of fact--"

Dean throws his machete and takes off its head and half of the head of the guy next to it--red blood; guess it was a vamp--grabs Sam's hand, and runs.

#asks #mpreg #purgatory #samdean #wincest #canon-typical violence #canon-typical blood and gore #mpreg!sam

[one-boring-person]

What's Funny?

John Rambo (between Rambo II and Rambo III) x reader

Warnings: some sexual content implied? Slight injury

Context: John teaches the reader to ride a horse. (Set between the second and third movie)

A/N: this was not supposed to turn out how it did; it was supposed to stay innocent! But ah well, it is what it is. Also, I apologise if parts of this are inaccurate, I am by no means that knowledgeable on horse riding, so please excuse any inaccuracies!

Masterlist

I instinctively tense up in the saddle as I feel the horse beneath me shift, the sensation of being sat on something alive very odd to me, despite all the stranger things I've done in my life. Sensing this, the animal whinnies and paws at the dusty ground, tossing its head slightly, clearly thinking I'm in distress, even though I'm not. Biting my lip, I try to relax again, taking the reins a little looser in my hands, adjusting my feet in the stirrups. Still holding the bridle for me, my companion, John, reaches up to pat the horse's neck, trying to soothe it as he eyes my posture.

"You need to relax more." He states, reaching over to lightly pinch the muscle in my arm, feeling how tense it is, his touch almost reassuring to me, "Stop tensing up so much, nothing bad is gonna happen."

"I know, I'm just...nervous, that's all." I mumble back, slightly ashamed at my incapability to do something he makes look so simple.

"Don't be, you'll be fine. There, now just lightly touch your heels to his side and click your tongue." The dark-haired veteran moves his hands, holding onto the leading rope instead.

Taking a breath, I do as he says, my jaw clenching when the horse starts into a slow walk, snorting and tossing its head impatiently. The movement feels odd beneath me, but I settle into it with some ease, still uncomfortable but not badly so, my eyes flicking to John for knowledge on whether I'm doing this right. He watches me carefully, leading the horse round in a circle, adjusting my posture here and there, sending me a look of reassurance when he catches my eye. I start getting the hang of it, relaxing slightly into the saddle as the horse starts to get used to me, the movements becoming smoother and more fluid, a small hesitant smile breaking out onto my lips. 

"Enjoying yourself?" John asks after a moment, the start of a smile pulling at his lips, dark eyes glittering with triumph. 

"Yeah, I am now." I reply, grinning at him as I reach forward to pat the horse's neck.

"Good, I'm glad." He responds, swiping a hand over his brow, "Stop a minute, I've gotta take this off."

The muscular man gestures to his large overshirt, waiting for me to slow to a halt before dropping the lead and going to the fence, where he takes his shirt off over his head. I find myself watching his every movement, enraptured by the way his muscles flex and move under his tanned, scarred skin, his torso hidden by one of his black sleeveless shirts, his shoulders bulging as he removes the fabric hiding them. Licking my lips at the sight, I forget to pay attention to the horse beneath me, yelping when it suddenly bucks upwards, the unexpected movement throwing me off the saddle a little, the animal quickly working to lose me completely. Getting my feet loose from the stirrups, I find myself thrown to the floor, dull pain exploding across my ribs as I land harshly, the impact winding me. Neighing, the stallion jumps into a more uncontrolled pace, seemingly having been spooked by something, leaving me lying in the dust as it moves off. 

"(Y/n)! Are you alright?" John calls out to me as he realises what's happened, the veteran swiftly moving to catch the fast-moving horse, grabbing it and calming it. Leading it back over, he hurriedly drops to the floor beside me, helping me sit upright as I press a hand to my ribs, groaning a little.

"Yeah, I'm good. Caught me by surprise." I wince, looking up at him, allowing him to help me up.

He looks me over, making sure I'm not seriously injured, before starting to consider something, a slight grin playing at his lips.

"What's funny?" I ask him curiously, dusting myself down.

"Hm? Oh, I just find it amusing that for a person who I've seen drive a car, motorcycle, tank, and fly planes and helicopters, as well as navigate boats, in all kinds of conditions, you've never mastered horse riding." He explains, chuckling slightly.

Pouting, I push his arm lightly, eyeing up the horse again.

"Yeah, well all those things are inanimate when they start, and I can fully control them. This creature has a mind of its own. Literally." I gesture to the horse, still slightly intimidated by the size of it.

"True." John hums, still smiling, "I've got an idea on how to help you."

"Oh?" 

"Yeah, come on." 

Going back to the horse, John motions for me to climb up again, helping me settle back into the saddle as I swallow down the slight fear in my throat. Trying to relax, I expect John to start adjusting my posture instantly, only to be very surprised when he suddenly appears behind me on the horse's back, perched lightly on the saddle, chest pressed flush to my back as his arms thread through mine, taking the reins in hand. My breath falters in my throat momentarily as he adjusts himself, his body moulding to mine to be more comfortable, his own breaths hot on my skin as he leans forwards slightly. Against my sides, I can feel every flex of his muscles, my heart stuttering from the sensation, meaning I nearly miss it as he takes my hands in his and holds the reins with them.

"Relax, (Y/n). The horse can sense if you're tense." John advises me, his rough voice resonating through me from this proximity. Somehow, this does help me to relax, and I feel myself go limper in his arms.

After a second, I feel John's thighs tense up as he gently taps his heels to the horse's sides, guiding the animal into a slow walk. His body moves in time with the horse, encouraging me to do the same, the action feeling much safer now that I can feel him help guide the animal. Swallowing, I try to ignore the feeling of his chest rubbing against my back, and the slight tickle from his long hair brushing over my shoulders. 

"See, you're getting the hang of it." John encourages me after a little while, his hands moving from mine to rest lightly on my thighs, leaving me to guide the horse around. Though the movement is casual, it sends goosebumps up through my body, my legs tensing slightly under his touch. He must've noticed it by now, but he seems to ignore it, instead helping me continue to ride.

I squeak in surprise when his lips suddenly make contact with my neck, the veteran leaving a very deliberate kiss just over my pulse point, his mouth lingering there as his hands slide up to grasp my waist. Nosing at the skin, he continues to press gentle kisses over the area, feeling my body relax under his hands, falling back into his chest as he continues his actions. Gently, he trails kisses down my neck to my shoulder, relishing in the small sounds of pleasure escaping me, my body yearning for more from him, years of craving his touch making me extremely vulnerable to his ministrations now.

"J-John…" I sigh, tilting my head to give him better access.

Beneath us, I can feel the horse getting antsy, the animal clearly aware that our attention is now split. John clearly feels it, too, as he takes the reins again and pulls the horse to a halt, reluctantly climbing down. Sighing from the loss of contact, I follow his lead, keeping my gaze downturned as he takes the horse out of the area we used for practice, trailing after him as he swiftly hands the creature back over to its owner, speaking quickly with them before he takes me behind the stable. 

Once there, he pushes me up against the wall, lips crashing into mine, his hands gripping my waist and pulling me into him, my own arms wrapping around his neck. Moaning into the kiss, I press closer to him, feeling safe in his arms as we move in time with each other, years of pent up emotion flooding across the connection. His scent, sweat mixed with the faint remains of incense from the temple, surrounds me, calming my racing heart at its familiarity, making me wish I could stay this close to him forever. 

Eventually, he pulls away, both of us needing air, his forehead pressing into mine, our breaths mingling with each other.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't wait any longer." He finally says, his dark eyes searching mine for a rejection.

"Don't apologise. I'm not sure how much longer I would've lasted, honestly." I admit, carding my fingers through his soft hair, enjoying the feeling of the messy strands under my touch. 

Smiling, John leans in and captures my lips again for a chaste kiss, before pulling back completely, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his side.

"Come on, let's go somewhere more private."

#Rambo #rambo x reader #rambo imagine #rambo 2 #rambo iii #john rambo #John Rambo x reader #John Rambo imagine #Sylvester Stallone

[halloweenhoneylover]

the star puzzle

summary: based on 5x13 (bc long hair reid rights) in which emily tells a funny little story and spencer is the sweetest know-it-all :’) (spencer x fem!reader)

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: i haven’t written for fun in the hottest second and im embarrassed so pls don’t roast!!! also trying my hand at romance is scary ahahaha how do yall do this

Emily’s nose wrinkled slightly.

Damn puzzle.

She fidgeted with two wooden pieces, and the sounds of them dully clinking against each other drew the attention of a certain doctor. With squinted eyes, he observed her fumbling for a moment before muttering a quick, “What is that?”

“It’s called a star puzzle. It’s basically impossible to figure out.” The resignation was clear in her tone. She’d been trying to put together this unbelievably frustrating puzzle for the past fifteen minutes, and she felt further from figuring it out than when she began. Utterly infuriating. “You have to put all of the pieces back together to form a perfect star. But the origin of it is kinda a romantic tale.”

Your ear perked up a bit, your interest thoroughly piqued. Always a sucker for a little romance, a small grin tugged at your lips as you quietly tucked the corner of your page down and shut your book. Ms. Austen could wait a little longer. Perhaps love stories were for the naive, but who were you to deny yourself the small rush of joy of hearing about two people fall in love? Your eyes flickered towards Spencer for the briefest of moments, and your smile widened ever so slightly. I wouldn’t mind falling in love with him. As if that process wasn’t already well underway. So you settled further in your seat on the couch to listen to Emily.

“There was this young prince who wanted to win the heart of the fairest maiden in the land.” 

At this, Spencer’s heart skipped, and he spared a fleeting glance to his right at the girl on the couch who had the most endearing smile on her face as she intently watched Emily. The fairest maiden in all the land, he thought as his cheeks flushed slightly. He was quite familiar with the prince’s endeavors.

 “So he climbed to the top of the tallest tower in the kingdom, and he caught a falling star for her. Unfortunately, he was so excited, that he dropped it, and it smashed into all of these pieces. So he frantically put it back together to prove his undying love to her, and he succeeded, and they lived happily ever after.”

A moment of silence and a furrowed brow. 

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Emily narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t catch a falling star. It would burn up in the atmosphere.” You could almost hear the cogs in the poor boy’s head turning as he tried to grasp the meaning of her words. Amusement danced across Rossi’s features as he shared a knowing look with Emily.

“Yeah, but it’s not literal, Reid. It’s a fable.”

“But there’s no moral. Fables have morals.” You ducked your head in an attempt to suppress the laugh bubbling in your chest and the blush painting your cheeks. As always, you were fascinated by the mechanisms of Dr. Reid’s mind. And by the look of confusion on his face, a look that only made you more smitten which you had thought was an impossible task by now.

“Okay so it’s just a romantic little story—the point is it’s basically impossible to do because you have to take all of those pieces and fit them together exactly….” She trailed off, watching him easily fit together the pieces she’d been agonizing over for far too long. His nimble fingers were purposeful in their task and within seconds, produced the desired star. Emily’s jaw dropped. That little son of a—

For a moment, he looked at the star, reveling in his success with a somewhat smug smirk (he loved solving puzzles), before a thought popped into his head. Turning his gaze to the right, he caught your eye as you gawked at the puzzle. He gave you that signature tight-lipped smile that made your heart swell and wordlessly offered you the star. 

Your breath caught, and for some reason, you couldn’t look away, and neither could he. So you both sat there in this little moment of stillness on the edge of revelation. This felt so much bigger than one friend offering another a look at a stupid little puzzle, but there was that underlying current of fear, of ‘we both want this so, so much, but neither of us can say that this means more because what if they don’t feel the same way.’ Hesitation had locked you in place, but screw it. A little breathless and a lot of warmth buzzing in your chest, you finally recovered your expression from your previous look of utter amazement and took the star. 

You took the star.

Spencer thought he could still hear the air humming from that second-long moment that felt like a freaking hour, and his fingers were buzzing from where yours had brushed his for the most minuscule of moments, he couldn’t stop the smile that split his face wide open. He didn’t know if you took it to look at his handiwork, or to give your approval, or to accept this profession of his undying love for you, but whatever it meant, you took the star, and that was enough for now. 

Staring down at the wooden puzzle in your hands, you focused so intensely because you needed a moment to recover from whatever the hell just happened. Maybe you blacked out for a minute and were in heaven for the entirety of three seconds, or maybe you’ve watched When Harry Met Sally too many times to not have a skewed perception of romance and friendship, but he had to have felt that, right? There was no way he didn’t have his world turned upside down by that incredibly small interaction—or maybe you’re just way too in love with him to be judging things correctly. Either way, you’re somewhat surprised the star hasn’t completely burst into flames under the intensity of your stare, and you try to grapple with what just happened and what comes next.

“Not too shabby, Dr. Reid.” It comes out as the ghost of a whisper because you’re not sure you could have managed any more than that. The smoldering remains of your previous grin haunt your lips as you finally summon the courage to meet his eyes again. 

He’s beaming.

“Why, thank you, Miss (Y/L/N).”

And you can’t help but mirror him.

Wide eyes and the most knowing smirks you’ve ever seen are silently flying around the jet as the others look at each other to confirm, are you seeing this? It’s been extremely apparent, the burgeoning crushes between the two youngest members, and this is just the icing on the freaking cake. Dear Morgan is just bursting at the seams, knowing that the next moment he gets the good doctor alone, he will be teasing him to the highest heaven. Maybe Reid’s new nickname will be ‘young prince.’ Morgan is sure he will love that (he won’t). And poor, poor Garcia, gripping her knitting needles so tightly that they might be pulverized, cannot even slightly suppress the glowing of her heart as she watches her two most favorite people fall even more in love, and by God, if she’s not going to do something about it. What she’s going to do, she’s not quite sure, but she has the rest of this plane ride to figure it out, and when she does know, it’s gonna be good, and they’re going to get together and be together forever. Simple, really.

Yet, Emily might be the most pleased of them all. This was absolutely not her intention when she had told the story of the prince and the maiden, but by no means was she opposed to the outcome. Her grin was contagious as she locked eyes with Rossi and JJ and even Hotch, breaking his ever-so-stoic demeanor. She could not wait to claim responsibility for their inevitable relationship, and boy, what a story she’d have for their wedding because of course, marriage is inevitable too. At least for these two, it seems. 

When finally the silence stretched on too long and the team’s gaze weighed too heavy on the young almost-lovers, they startled out of their reverie with nervous chuckles and burning cheeks. You handed the star back to Emily, “Neat little thing!”

“Sure is,” she replied with the most frustratingly canny smirk. You avoided her eyes; it was clear what they were insinuating.

Spencer stared down at the book in his lap, trying to resist the painfully strong urge to watch you for a little while longer as you tried to steer the conversation to easier topics. He was a little afraid of how enamored he was because it was a lot. A lot a lot. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and let the tension from his shoulders fall as he carefully fingered the binding of Pride and Prejudice. He’d only really picked it up because you suggested it. ‘I know you’re not very into romance,’ you had said. ‘But I’ll still think you’ll enjoy it. Mrs. Bennet never fails to make me smile, so at the very least, I think you’ll get a laugh out of it.’ He thought it was funny the way you buffered your suggestion, as if he wouldn’t do anything you asked him. And it was true. Mrs. Bennet made him laugh too, but he found himself more and more enthralled by the relationship unfolding between Miss Bennett and Mr. Darcy. He was going soft, and he had a sneaking suspicion as to why (or a very clear reason that was just really hard to come to terms with) (ie., his overwhelming love for you). He gave in to his urges and glanced back up.

He was met by your perpetual grin as you chatted softly with Emily. As your eyebrows raised or your nose scrunched, he let the butterflies in his stomach roam free. They were uncomfortable in the best way possible. Satisfied with one last look at you, he reopened the book and tried to keep reading, but his thoughts ran rampant. He’d given you a little star puzzle, a star to represent his undying love for you. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He knew he couldn’t catch a falling star, but he’d find a way if that’s what you wanted. A faint smile graced his lips as he thought, I’d do anything. If she wanted it, I’d give her anything. I’d give her every star in the sky. 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid

[k-llama-llama]

Carried Through

Twice AU: 10th member

Jaewoo x Twice

The girls have to take care of Jaewoo when he’s sick at the airport

A/N: check out my patreon (patreon.com/kllamallama for exclusive posts!)

Requests are CLOSED…but your feedback is still super important to me.

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“I’m going to be honest, Jae, you aren’t looking too hot.” Jihyo stared at him.

He tried to look up at her, but didn’t manage to get higher than her jeans and the row of airport chairs before his vision swam. “Thanks.”

“I’m serious, Jae.” She moved off of her seat, kneeling in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“I told you I didn’t feel good.”

That was an understatement. They’d left the apartment at six in the morning to get to the airport in time for their flight. Jaewoo had gone to bed early the night before, complaining about feeling nauseous. He’d woken up the next morning without feeling any better, and with the added issue of a pounding headache.

Nayeon had packed the last of his bags for him, and he’d stumbled out the door and through the airport. But now, as they waited to board their flight, he was struck with an incapacitating dizziness that was making it impossible for him to keep his head up for more than a few seconds.

“Are you going to be okay on the flight?” Jihyo pushed his hair out of his face, feeling his clammy forehead. “You really don’t look good.”

“I know.” He groaned, trying to breathe through another wave of dizziness. “I think I’m probably going to die.”

“You aren’t going to die.” Jihyo promised. “But are you going to be okay on this flight? Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”

He shook his head, and then immediately regretted it. “No. Just like I’m going to drop at any second.”

Jihyo clicked her tongue, obviously trying to weigh their options. There weren’t really any. They had to fly to Thailand and they had a concert tomorrow that they couldn’t miss. Whatever bug he hadn’t wasn’t going to stop them.

“Oppa?” Tzuyu settled herself into the seat next to him. “Are you feeling any better?”

He couldn’t find the energy to respond, but heard Jihyo answer for him. Someone was rubbing his back, the only thing he was clearly aware of when the world started to spin again.

“I brought you some water and rice crackers.” Tzuyu said quietly. “Do you want to try them?”

He thought about it. He hadn’t eaten anything since dinner last night, and even that had only been a little bit of rice and a piece of chicken. There was a good chance that something in his stomach might help, but there was just as good of a chance that that would make him throw up.

“Who am I sitting with on the plane?” He asked, resting his forehead on his knees.

“Me, I think.” Tzuyu told him. “Why?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to throw up on you.”

With great effort, he sat up, leaning his head back against the chair. His vision swam, but if he stayed still it was tolerable.

“Which of us are you willing to throw up on?” Jihyo appeared in his line of vision.

He forced a smile. “Chae, probably. Maybe Jeongyeon.”

“I heard that.” Someone poked him in the shoulder. He didn’t bother turning to see as Chaeyoung placed her bucket hat on his head. “To hide how gross you are.”

 “I don’t think it’s going to help.” He admitted. He was already dreading the pictures that the fan sites got as they were entering the airport, and he wouldn’t be home free until they reached their hotel in Thailand.

Another wave of dizziness hit, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Should we take him to a doctor?” Tzuyu whispered, obviously trying not to disturb him.

“It’s a stomach bug.” Chaeyoung countered. “They’re not going to be able to do anything.”

“But he can’t fly like this.” Tzuyu argued.

“She’s got a point, Chae.” Jihyo said quietly. “Someone is going to have to carry him through the airport. And what if something happens on the flight?”

“What would happen?” Tzuyu sounded worried.

Jaewoo forced himself to sit up straighter. He didn’t want them fussing over him, and he didn’t want to miss the flight or cause problems in their schedule. He was going to get up, he was going to walk through the airport and then die quietly on the flight.

“Give me some of those crackers, Tzu.” He held out a hand.

Tzuyu ripped open the bag enthusiastically, removing a cracker, breaking it in half, and then handing it to him. He chewed slowly. Every movement caused his head to spin a little bit more, but the cracker was bland enough that it didn’t immediately make him want to be sick.

“Do you have any water?” He swallowed, the cracker scraping against his throat, which he suddenly realized was very dry.

“Here.” Tzuyu opened a bottle of water, passing it to him. His hands shook as he lifted it to his mouth, but he managed to swallow a sip without spilling.

“Guys, we’re boarding.” Jeongyeon walked over. “Do you need a staff member to-“

She trailed off, but it was clear that the next words were carry Jaewoo.

“I can walk.” Jaewoo forced himself to his feet. He wasn’t sure if the world was spinning or if he was swaying.

Jihyo answered his question with a hand on his elbow. “Are you going to faint?”

“Nope.” He tried to sound certain. “If you can just give me a shove in the right direction and I will stumble my way onto the plane.”

“I’ll walk you.” Jihyo wrapped his arm around her, letting him lean on her without it being too obvious that he was close to dropping.

“My bag.” He mumbled, trying to turn around.

“I got it, just keep walking.” Chaeyoung stopped to pull his mask up over his nose.

Jaewoo tuned out as he was dragged towards their terminal. He tried not to think about what everyone else was seeing. He was almost a full foot taller than Jihyo, but he was hunched over and barely managing to move one foot in front of the other.

This was a first for him. He’d never had worse than the sniffles on a travel day. Usually he was the one helping the girls through the airport. There had been a few months when Jihyo’s leg was messed up when he’d literally piggy-backed her everywhere, including onto airplanes. So he really didn’t enjoy feeling so miserable, with no idea of his surroundings. He trusted them, of course, but it still made him feel uneasy. If it was even possible to feel anything other than dizzy right now.

He was completely numb as Chaeyoung flashed his passport and ticket for him, and then they were onto the plain. Jihyo dropped him into his seat with a huff, and his head smacked against the back.

“Are you trying to give him a concussion?” Jeongyeon leaned over from behind him, poking his shoulder to make sure he was still awake.

“He’s heavy.” Jihyo complained, sitting next to Jeongyeon. “Sorry, Jae.”

“S’okay.” He mumbled. He was thankful they were in business class, because it meant he had a bit more room, a more comfortable chair, and only one person next to him.

Tzuyu finished stowing his bag and sat down next to him. “Oppa? Do you want another cracker?”

“Not now, Tzu.” It came out a little harsher than he wanted. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you don’t feel good.” She spread a blanket over his lap, and took his phone out of his hoodie pocket. “Do you want to listen to music, or do you want to plug into the movie I’m going to watch?”

The choice was clear: you were mean to me, so now you have to watch a movie with me.

“I’ll watch the movie.” He flopped his head to one side, holding out a hand for the earbud. They hadn’t even taken off yet, but he was settling in for a long, miserable flight.

“I hate being sick.” He said quietly, turning his face into the seat cushion.

“At least you’re stuck with me and not Chaeyoung.” Tzuyu smiled. “She’d probably draw a mustache on you.”

“Promise you won’t let her and you’ll be my favourite person ever.” He grabbed her hand in his, squeezing it with a pitiful display of strength.

She patted his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. And maybe you’ll feel better after we’ve watched Moana.”

“Why do we always have to watch Moana?”

“Because it’s my choice. So shut up and feel better.”

#twice #twice au #twice imagine #twice imagines #twice 10th member #kpop #au #imagine #imagines #kpop au #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #requests open

[whump-a-la-mode]

Villainsicle - Part 14

Thanks to everyone for all the comments on the last part, and especially to @the-polari-person for the memes they made. Everyone really wants to punch Medic, and I think this part will reinforce that. I hope you enjoy!

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

@sola-whumping

@professional-idiocy

@trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room

@literally-just-kirby​

@the-polari-person

@teachunks

@daydreamed-snippets-2nd-blog

@sunflower1000

@lightdrinker-blog

@regalwritten

CW//Whumpee liking whumper, pet whump, dehumanization, conditioned whumpee, orders, implied past torture, mentions of death, mentions of execution, arguing, conspiracy

Traitor ran their fingers affectionately through Villain’s hair.

“An Asset can be far greater than any weapon you may have ever yielded in the past. I am sure you have all heard of the incident suffered by our late former Asset Coordinator, but any equipment can malfunction.

I assure you, the risk is worth it. May they rest in peace. But, a well-trained Asset is just as dangerous as a well-maintained gun. With the right care, it will only harm those who must be harmed.”

The somewhat sorrowful expression that had begun to show through disappeared, replaced by a sharp smirk.

“But words can only do so much. Demonstration is much better. Cadet!”

Villain drew back, nodding firmly their acknowledgement. There was a notable strangeness to their gait, a refusal to put weight on their leg.

“Circumspicio.”

Another firm nod, before they closed their eyes. For a few moments, tense and quiet as they were, their hair rose about their head, writhing like an inferno of serpents. When they at last opened their eyes, their hair did not calm.

“Eight soldier on deck, move left. Two plane on deck. Most soldier sleeping, in dorm. Supervillain talk to Department Head. Assets in kennel.”

“Where is Ali Silica?”

“Ali Silica, in kitchen, drink water.”

“Maximilian Kesim.”

“Maximilian Kesim, in dorm. Sleep.”

“Ella Jacklin.”

“Ella Jacklin, on deck. Has weapon. Guard door 24.”

“Good.” Traitor’s gaze returned to stare forth. “My Asset may not be particularly useful in situations of combat, but it is invaluable for recon and scouting. They can see through our cameras, our computers, all of it. And in an enemy base? Every enemy movement can be mapped. I can’t count how many times it has saved my life.

It is the most valuable Asset we have. Usually, we would not be doing something like this. But, my Asset is currently off duty due to an injury. And thus, welcome to the course.”

Again, they laid their hand atop Villain’s head.

They smiled.

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Villain looked at the camera.

That was all Counselor could look at, all they could notice. The other action on screen was immediately rendered irrelevant to them.

No. They could only see those eyes.

The same eyes they’d spent the last weeks gazing back at, in person and picture alike. At the very least, they were the same eyes, on the same person. In every physical sense, Villain was the same.

But...

They were happy. Maybe they weren’t, maybe it was just a trick of the light... But, no, no matter how Counselor squinted, what they told themself, they could not ignore that fact. Villain’s eyes glimmered with contentment, pressing their head into Traitor’s hand, who stroked their hair affectionately. 

There was nothing fake, nothing practiced, about that warmth. It was just as real as the sorrowful or fearful expressions that Counselor had seen on Villain’s face so often. The only ones they ever seemed to show.

They were happy. Why were they happy? Ordered about, spoken about like an object... And why were they talking like that? They were generally rather quiet, but they never seemed to struggle with their speech.

It wasn’t until Hero spoke up that Counselor realized their mouth had been hanging ajar.

“I...”

Hero was at just as much of a loss for words as they were.

“I don’t know.” Counselor shook their head, frowning. “P-Pause it. Please. I don’t want to see it.”

They did so.

For a long, tense moment, the two sat there, one in the computer chair, the other with their legs dangling off the bed. It was Counselor, who managed to clear their throat first.

“Where did you get this?”

“The flashdrive?”

“Mhm.”

“Leader. Leader gave it to me.”

“Leader?”

“I didn’t... I don’t know. I guess it makes sense?”

“It does, but...” Counselor gripped a clump of blanket in their fist, knuckles quickly turning white. “I, Hero, what the fuck! I don’t know what I expected. Some sort of backstory, certainly, but... What did Traitor do to them?”

It wasn’t the type of explosive tone that they often took, but they couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help but release the furious flame burning in their chest, its smoke scratching their throat.

“I don’t know.” Hero shook their head. “What is the, the Asset program? That wasn’t a thing when we worked for them, was it?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. I certainly never heard of it.”

“Me neither.”

“You think...”

“Do I think that’s why Leader looks like they’re about to faint whenever you so much as mention Villain? Absolutely! You’d think they would have told us.”

“I- I guess. What is there even to say? What was that even about?”

“It certainly wasn’t meant for an uninformed audience. Something about... training? Training assets?”

“That’s what Villain was, weren’t they? An... Asset.”

“I think so. A... A forced soldier. Traitor was treating they like a fucking dog.”

“Yeah.” Hero nodded.

“And...”

“An incident. What were they saying about an incident?”

“Someone died. The way they were talking about it, I think. Someone died. Whoever tried to make videos about this beforehand? An... Asset Coordinator?”

“That’s certainly what it sounded like.”

Counselor tried to release the grip they held on the blanket, but found themself unable. Tension and fury kept their muscles clenched, blood pounding their ears, even as they did little more than sit.

“Were they ever really a villain at all?” They finally whispered. “In the video, it was all orders. They were just following orders. We’ve been treating them like a villain this whole time, but-”

“I think we need to see more.” Hero interrupted. “We need to- We need to know. How long until this flashdrive mysteriously goes missing?”

“I don’t know.” Counselor bit the inside of their cheek. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t. I need to-”

“You really should. We should.”

“I know. I know. But I need to see Villain.”

“Oh.”

“You watch, okay? I’m going to talk to them.”

“About... it?”

“Yeah.” They nodded, before frowning, their gaze becoming downcast. “How long until they mysteriously go missing?”

“Fair enough.”

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“Are you hungry?”

The Asset- no, dammit, Villain looked up as Counselor entered the hospital room. The thoughts, the words of the video refused to stop swirling in their mind, twisting even their inner monologue, now.

The blankets on their bed were turned and tossed about-- either they had tried to get up, or they had not slept well. Neither option was good.

But they were awake now.

“Are you hungry, Villain?” Counselor repeated themself, approaching the bedside. An impulse to straighten the bed linens ran through them, but their hands were full-- they placed the platter down on the table beside the hospital bed.

They took a moment to reply, as if they were unsure whether or not they were expected to speak. They decided upon the former.

“Yes.”

“That’s good. I made you some lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“Y’know, when you eat at noon.”

“I- I know. Sorry. Don’t usually eat lunch.”

“You don’t?”

“Medic says I only need dinner.”

“Oh.” Another wave of furious warmth ran through them, but they let it burn out. It wasn’t the time. “Well, if you’re hungry, I have food for you.”

“Y-Yes. Sorry. Thank you, uh, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Villain sat up, taking the platter from their bedside table. It was a simple arrangement-- with little to no knowledge of what exactly Medic was up to, Counselor had decided to play it safe, making whatever was least likely to upset Villain’s stomach. A sandwich, some yogurt, and some carrots. Simple and small, but food.

Yet, as the former Asset gazed at the plate, they looked almost confused. Genuinely perplexed, staring at an abstract painting.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes! Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just... This doesn’t look like what Medic has me eat.”

Counselor frowned.

“What does Medic have you eat?”

“Um... Don’t, um.” They furrowed their brow, looking for all the world to be trying to do mental calculus. “Don’t know word, um, I don’t know what it is called. It’s white, and dry. Tastes like chalk.”

At that point, Counselor would have believed it if Villain had told them that Medic was making them eat actual chalk.

“Well... This is something different, for today.”

“Okay.”

Still, the food before them put a confused expression on their face. Eventually, after considering it for a long moment, Villain began to tear pieces off the sandwich, eating them in that manner.

“Villain?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah. Of course.”

“Do you know someone named Traitor?”

Villain’s hand stopped, halfway through bringing a piece of food to their mouth. They put it back down.

They nodded.

“They didn’t call them that.”

“What did they call them?”

“Trainer.”

“And they called you Cadet.”

Villain’s teeth snapped together, gritting hard enough that they seemed about to crack.

“Yes. I didn’t... I didn’t think you knew.”

“I...” There was no reason to lie. “I didn’t. Not until just a minute ago.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Villain shook their head. “It’s okay.”

“Is it okay if I... Is it okay if I ask you about it?”

Villain frowned for a moment-- looking as though they were actually considering the question. Even as much as Counselor wanted to hear a yes, even the fact that they were thinking it through made them swell with hope.

“Yes. Yes, it’s okay.”

“Okay.” They weren’t sure when their voice had grown so quiet, so placating. As though they were whispering in a far larger room. “They called you an Asset. What is that?”

“Um... We were weapons, I think.”

“There were multiple?”

“Mhm.” They nodded, ever so slightly, like their head was locked in place. “Not many made it... They kept us prisoner, for a long time. Before the collapse. Before your rebellion. Said we were useful only as lab rats. Then... Something changed. They decided we were useful. Started training.”

“Training?”

“We didn’t want to fight for them. So we weren’t given a choice.”

“You were... You were there, all that time?”

“When you rebelled, I guess- You didn’t know about us, did you?”

“No.”

“No one did.”

“And then they wanted your help.”

“They didn’t give a choice. I guess there was a choice. You could obey, or...”

“Or?”

“Or kill your handler.”

“What did they-”

“They shot the ones that acted up like that. Said it wasn’t worth losing soldiers over.”

“But you...”

“I-” Their voice hiccuped, catching in their throat. “I didn’t want to. Not at first.”

“They hurt you?”

“Some. I guess. Trainer had a whip. But that wasn’t their style. They needed us intact. They had other ways.”

“Oh.”

Villain turned the conversation about.

“How did you find out?”

“A video.”

“A video?”

More cautiously, this time, Villain ate another piece of sandwich.

“Some kind of training video. We found it on a computer. We took it, from Organization.”

“Oh.”

“You...”

“The one I was in.”

“Yeah.”

Villain’s lips pursed into a thin line. They picked up their plate, putting it back on the nightstand, before throwing aside their blanket.

Their hospital gown was thin and wispy-- they moved aside the fabric covering their lower leg.

A hole. That was the only word that would be in any way appropriate to describe the wound-- a hole, dug out of flesh. Healed and faded, so much so that the scar tissue had turned white, but it was still there. Still horrid enough to make Counselor’s stomach twist with nausea.

“What is...”

“A gunshot.”

“A gun did that?”

“Yeah. Really close up.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

“You were hurt, in the video.”

“Yeah.”

“It was...”

“It was this. I got hurt. Got shot. I couldn���t walk for a long time, couldn’t fight for a lot longer than that. Was stuck in the med bay. But I could walk, so they figured I could do the videos.”

Counselor nodded their understanding, as best as they could manage. Villain recovered the wound.

“Villain?”

“Yeah?”

“You left. Did you leave? On your own?”

“Um... It was more complicated than that.”

“You were rescued?”

They seemed to consider for a moment, before nodding.

“Leader.”

For a split second, Counselor thought they had imagined the word.

“Leader?”

“They saved me. By, um, by shooting me.”

“They...”

“They shot me in the leg.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I don’t know if you can.” Villain diverted their gaze quickly. “Sorry, that was mean. It’s just, I mean, things were different back then. You have a choice. You left because you wanted to. Because you didn’t believe in what you were doing.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I guess I had some idea, but, not really. I just did what Train- Traitor said.” Their head lurched upward. “They’re okay, right?”

“What?”

“Trainer. They’re okay, right?”

“I- I guess I don’t know. We haven’t done anything to harm them.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“You... You liked them?”

“I miss them.” They drew their legs to their chest, hugging them. “A lot.”

“You miss them?”

“Mhm.” There was somehow a terribly sorrowful tone to the humming. “I left them. But I miss them.”

“Did you... Did you escape? On your own?”

“I guess.” They straightened their legs back out. “The longer I was in the med bay, the less security there was. After a while, I think they forgot I was there. They just left me there, in that bed. Leader... Did they ever tell you?”

“About what?”

“About what they told me.”

“No. They didn’t even tell us they shot you.”

“They said it, right before they shot me. It was, um, it was an address. They said if I went there, I could get help. Then they shot me.”

“An address?”

“In Oregon. It was the first anyone had spoken to me in, I guess in years, at that point. They spoke around me, but never in English?”

“They didn’t speak English? They did when I was there.”

“Yeah, before they went all evil. Decided they wanted to speak Latin. I didn’t even know that that’s what it was, at the time. I never understood a word of it, still don’t. Then Leader came along, and spoke to me. In a language I knew. And it made me think, think like I hadn’t in such a long time.”

“In the video, in the video they were speaking English.”

“Mhm.” Villain nodded. “That was the second time I’d heard a language I understood. It’s like I woke up, like I’d been sleeping for forever. Like I remembered I was human. And, when the ship got close enough to the West coast...”

“You jumped ship.”

“I almost drowned doing it, too. But I didn’t. And I made it to the address.”

“And that was six months ago.”

“A year ago. I collapsed on a stranger’s doorstep, and they took me in. And... that’s it.”

“That’s it.”

“Mhm.”

They again took the platter, beginning to again pick at their food. Counselor let them eat in silence.

In the end, it was Villain who spoke up.

“Counselor?”

“Yeah?”

“I know Leader wanted to do good. I know they wanted to help. But... if I had the choice. If i could do it all again, I never would have left.”

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“Of course they wouldn’t have. They’re an Asset.”

Medic spoke the words before the door was even fully open, yet Counselor heard them loud and clear, looking up and spinning around.

“Cadet, sedeo.”

The Asset fell without resistance. Medic could not help but clench their fists as they closed the door behind them, approaching their patient’s bed.

The smell of food permeated the room. Real food. Unregulated and unweighted and breaking the rules, breaking the pattern.

“What the actual hell do you think you’re doing?” They spat, turning to Counselor, sitting at Villain’s bedside like some kind of grieving idiot.

“They were hungry.” The response was firm, their adversary’s eyes narrowed. “So I fed them.”

“Did I not tell you that they have very specific feeding requirements?”

“You did.”

“And you don’t care?”

“Not really, no.”

Medic gritted their teeth.

No matter what this idiot excuse for a therapist thought, they weren’t stupid. Allowing them to see Medic’s patient had been a gesture of good will.

They should never have allowed it. They should have known this would happen.

Their plan had been going so goddamn well. Their patient responding to stimuli, to altered variables, as had been expected. As had been planned. As had been rigorously calculated.

And this piece of shit had ruined it. They had thrown off the experiment, the results, all of it!

The symptoms were showing as expected. Every single one of them. They were so damn close to starting the final phase, and now...

“What are you trying to do, Counselor...”

“They were hungry, so I fed them.”

“No, not that. I know you did that. But... all of this. Trying to help them. Trying to fight me. Why?”

“Because you’re hurting them.”

“We already went over this.”

“Well, at the very least, you aren’t helping them.”

“I’m treating them.”

“You’re keeping them alive. That’s it.”

“And what are you trying to do, pray tell?’

“What?”

“Counselor, what the hell is your end goal, here?”

There was no way this excuse for a social worker would see the right side of things, see the same way Medic did. But, at the very least, they could try to make them open their eyes, for once in their goddamn life.

“My end goal is making them better.”

“And then what?”

“What?”

“Say Villain gets better. One hundred percent healed. Then what?”

“Whatever they want.” Counselor drew back their upper lip. “You called them an Asset.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You knew.”

“And I see you do now, as well.”

“You should have told me.”

“You never asked.”

“You still should have told me! How could you have known and not done anything about it?”

Medic clenched their hands into fists.

“Because I was part of Organization. So were you. And Hero, and Leader, and everyone. Remember that were a rebellion. A splinter group.”

“I was part of Organization, and I didn’t know.”

“Well, I did.”

“And you didn’t do anything.”

“Is that what you’re going to bemoan me for, now? Because I didn’t leave as quickly as you? Because I was a department head? Because I didn’t have a chance? Because-”

“Shut up.”

“If this is what you’re going to get on my case about, now?”

“Maybe I am.”

“What about Leader, then? What about-”

“This isn’t about them!”

“They were married to Supervillain!”

“We all got over that a long time ago. If you want a fight, let’s at least do it over something that matters. When Villain is better, and I mean when, I will let them choose what they want to do.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.”

“You said it yourself, they’re a villain. When they were free, on their own, they were hurting people.”

“We can talk about it. Find out why. Help them.”

“And if they don’t want to stop? Are you really planning on just letting them go back out there? Because, what, it makes you feel better about yourself?”

“N- No. I wouldn’t.”

“Then you’d keep them prisoner.”

“Maybe.”

“And they’d stay sick.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because they’re an Asset. How often do you use your powers?”

“I- I don’t know. Once or twice a week?”

“Exactly. They spent months of their life going on daily missions, using their powers. Now they aren’t using them. Now they’re sick.”

“You’re saying...”

“What we’re doing, it’s like trying to keep a Border Collie as a lap dog. They need to use their powers, because they were an Asset. It’s what their brain has gotten used to. We can’t change that. We can’t change the past.”

“They aren’t going to be an Asset again. We aren’t like that. We aren’t Organization.”

Of course, the soft one would say that.

“That’s not what I’m saying. But it’s the only theory that makes sense to me, at this point. And if they have to use their powers anyways, they may as well be helping us.”

“Shut up.”

“I haven’t-”

“Just shut up, okay? You’re talking about them like they’re not even there.”

“They can’t hear us.”

“Wake them up.”

“I will in a moment.” Medic sighed. “Look. I can’t see the future. I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I do know that their training starts tomorrow.”

Counselor gritted their teeth.

“So.” Medic slumped their shoulders. “From tomorrow onwards, you may feed them as you wish.”

It was a sacrifice. Another gesture of good will, of trying to gain trust. They were giving up one variable in their experiment, turning it from a control to something wild, something they couldn’t control.

But, maybe, that was a good thing.

Handing over the experiment to another scientist-- as much as Counselor could be considered a scientist. Passing on the blame. Turning the causation into correlation.

Counselor nodded.

“Okay.”

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