#shush slinky

[time-slink]

iskall and etho in the same room is never not funny. ex-roommate worsties competing to out-lie and out-scam the other but theyre being sooo polite about it

#shush slinky #i really miss s8 now #also 'skall always come out on top somehow. despite all previous indications otherwise

[tackytigerfic]

WIP Snip

Missed last week so here we go again, back on my multiverse bullshit. The good news for me is that i met all my orig work deadlines so can concentrate on my wip for most of February. Here we have a multiverse fic (with two Dracos and two Harrys due to dimension-hopping shenangians) - in this universe, harry never defeated Voldie and the war is dragging on. Draco joined the Order, deserted, and is now back. He and Harry are slowly becoming friends again after what Harry sees as Draco's betrayal of the Order. also omg they're roommates. I was tagged by @mintawasalreadytaken in a scene that i want to eat up with a spoon it's so delicious, it's here - yes it's a minta shower scene this is not a drill

“I was wondering when you were going to make your move,” Harry said.

It was very early. The bedroom was still velvety dark, so that Harry could hear Draco better than he could see him, though he could just manage to make out the darker shape of him against the night, frozen at the sound of Harry’s whisper.

“Go back to sleep,” Draco whispered back, then starting moving again. Harry could hear the low shushing sound of him getting himself dressed.

“Lumos,” Harry breathed, and was confronted by the distracting sight of Draco struggling into a slouchy black jumper, a soft expanse of pale stomach below the wool, and then his outraged face emerging through the neckline, hair bristling with static.

“Turn that out,” he hissed at Harry, who just shrugged at him and gestured towards their closed curtains.

“What’s the plan?” Harry asked him, as though he hadn’t spoken. Harry reached for his glasses; he wanted to be able to really watch Draco’s face. “Floo through to Grimmauld then on to the Ministry?”

“The less you know, the better,” Draco said nastily, mouth crumpled and unhappy-looking, and turned to sling on a slinky black cloak, the muscular ripple of it almost animal in its energy as he flung it around his shoulders. His body was rigid and formal as he turned towards the door, and looking at his straight back, Harry realised that Draco was terrified.

“You cannot seriously be going through with this,” Harry flung after him, his words dropping heavy in the quiet of the room.

Draco was scrupulously polite, which meant he was maybe two steps away from murdering Harry in his bed.

“And who, pray tell, do you suggest might undertake the task? You? Molly Weasley, perhaps? Or what about that entirely useless other version of me you seem so fond of? Should he trot off to the Ministry to retrieve the instructions for fixing the device that he broke?”

“It’s absolute madness to even think of it,” Harry said. “And I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t get a say in it. You can court martial me whenever I get back, or whatever your tinpot regime deems appropriate punishment for disobeying you. But I’m going.”

“If you try to just walk into the Ministry, you won’t be coming back,” Harry said flatly. “You can’t just go off on some half-baked whim. We need to come up with a proper plan, get the rest of the Order involved.”

“I have a proper plan, you patronising twat. And as for the Order—they’re already involved. I’ve gone through everything with them already. You’re the only one pulling rank and shoving his oar in.”

“Hang on.” Harry shoved himself to sitting, kicking his way out of his rumpled duvet. The night air prickled cool against his bare torso, raising goosebumps. Draco cleared his throat impatiently, eyes flickering towards the door again. “Draco, are you telling me the rest of the Order are aware of what you’re doing?”

Draco laughed bitterly.

“They’re well aware, thanks. It was all going like clockwork until you decided to be an early riser for the first time ever in your life.”

“So you all went behind my back to organise this, then?” Harry could hear the unsteadiness of hurt in his own voice. “You knew I’d never agree to this.”

Malfoy sighed, that same old exasperated sound of his, and came to sit gingerly on the edge of Harry’s bed, cloak puddling around him like spilled ink.

“I knew it would become an argument, and Harry—” he looked up quickly, eyes catching Harry’s in the wavering light of the Lumos “—I don’t have the energy to argue about it. I met with Kingsley and Hermione and Minerva, and they were all very much in favour.” He dropped his gaze to Harry’s chest briefly, where Harry’s breathing was quickening in outrage. “They know I’m the only viable option for this one.”

“It can’t be the only way.”

“Maybe not. But it’s the quickest way. And we need it to be quick.”

I'll tag @amywaterwings @thegoblinmatriarch @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm @maesterchill @makeitp1nk @mallstars @shealwaysreads @skeptiquewrites @sweet-s0rr0w and you if you are reading this and feel like sharing your writing.

#fun fact #about three scenes after this one we finally hit the first proper sex scene #tacky's fth #drarry

[were-my-demons-hide]

I finished another may prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting fantastic may prompt list! So proud of myself :)

Now, buckle up, it's getting hot with our beloved dorks! <3

2. Adventure

“Let's… go on an adventure.” 

Magna’s husky voice filled the gap between them. Which was mighty small at this point.

“If you haven’t noticed yet... Our whole fucking life is an adventure.” Yumiko hummed back to her, as she placed one hand on Magna’s knee. 

The group of six had found themselves an old house to spend the night in. The first half of the night was Bernie’s and Kelly’s shift. The two of them, as well as Magna and Yumiko, were sitting on the floor, circling the few candles they had left. 

On the other side of the room, Connie and Luke were already trying to get some rest.

“Oh yeah? Tell me about our adventures.” 

The grin on Magna's face got wider while she was talking in a low voice. As soon as her gaze caught Yumiko’s, she winked at her. Her slinky intentions were absolutely visible to all of them. 

Even though Bernie shot them with amused looks, he and Kelly didn’t seem to care. They were preoccupied with themselves, or at least they made it seem that way.  

Miko leaned into Magna as she was whispering the words teasingly into her ear. 

“Sickos coming from all directions to rip us apart... A constant need for supplies and food, not to mention clean water...” 

“Oh shut up.” 

Magna slipped a few inches away from Yumiko, who laughed in amusement. 

“You’re really letting me down when I am trying to flirt with you?” Magna’s arms were shooting up to be crossed in front of her chest. And Yumiko grinned even more.

“Stop pouting, it doesn't suit you, gorgeous.” She tried to soothe Magna, but the tease didn’t leave her voice at all.

Yumiko’s hands were trailing up Magna’s thigh now. Featherlight movements which Magna only barely felt underneath her pants. It wasn’t enough to wipe the pout out of her face, but her eyes lit up. She stared at Yumiko’s lips and a deep feeling crept through her whole body. Magna would have loved to kiss Yumiko. Better said, she needed to kiss her.

“I think life with you is an adventure on its own.” Yumiko stated and took Magna’s hand in hers. 

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Magna whispered confidently. She noticed how Yumiko’s thumb drew an uneven pattern over her skin.

They locked their eyes together. Magna pulled Yumiko in, slightly touching her cheek with her free hand. Her face was directly in front of Miko’s.

Something between them shifted. 

“Well Mag, then show me how much of an adventure you can be.” Yumiko quirked one eyebrow. Her grin was getting dirtier in seconds.

“Nothing sexual intended huh?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

The air prickled between them.

In a flash, Magna pulled Yumiko to her feet. They didn’t even notice how Kelly and Bernie gave each other knowing looks. Or how Kelly shushed Bernie in sign language.

They stumbled into the hallway. Thank god, they had cleared the whole thing hours ago. As soon as they closed the door to the living room, Magna pressed Yumiko against the nearest wall. Lips only inches apart from each other. Eyes locked together. The desire was showing in both of their gazes. Magna was definitely teasing.

“What kind of adventure do you want?” She enquired with that dirty smile on her face.

“Just… kiss me already…” Yumiko hummed a little out of breath. Her hands were playing with the hem of Magna’s shirt. Sliding her fingers over her skin just barely. She could feel Magna’s hot breath on her face, as the woman started talking again.

“Well, I think you need to beg for it.” Magna’s eyebrows quivered. The words sent a shiver down Yumiko’s spine. She loved when Magna requested things like that. She would not give her the beg that easy, though. Because Yumiko also knew how to mess with Magna.

Miko started pressing kisses down Magna’s neck. All the way to her collarbone. As soon as the fabric of her unbuttoned plaid shirt got in between her lips and Magna’s skin, she gently pushed it over her shoulder. Only to kiss the newfound bare skin passionately.

Magna’s breathing got heavier. Her head had fallen back as if by itself, eyes gleefully closed. She let out little sighs eventually and dug her fingers into the other woman's back. Slowly, her hands went lower and came to rest on Miko’s ass. 

Yumiko’s hands were going wild on Magna’s body. Wandering up and down her sides, then off toward her chest. One hand kept the woman steady near her, the other cupped one of her breasts. It took every bit of her composure, not to dig under her tank top to feel all of that solemnly soft skin. Slowly her lips explored Magna’s decollete and shortly after that she trailed back up her neck again.

It felt like Magna melted inside of her arms. A little smirk flickered over Yumiko’s face.

She grabbed Magna by her hips and guided her toward the opposite side of the hallway. Now Magna was the one being pressed against a wall. Being kissed on her cheeks, jawline, and neck over and over again, she let out little moans. Which only cheered Yumiko on to continue her journey.

“Miko…” Magna sighed. “P-Please beg for it…” Her tone did not match her needs. Her big eyes were so desperate that Yumiko almost couldn’t keep it together herself.

“You think you are in a position to make demands?” Yumiko chuckled lightly as she pushed her leg between Magna's thighs. The touch was immediately acknowledged with a rough groan. 

Teasingly Yumiko was strengthening her pressure against the other woman. With one hand, she caught one of Magna’s wrists and pinned it over her head.

“But maybe… I will do you the favor, babe.” Her other hand was stroking through Magna’s big curls now. 

“Do you want me to do that?” Voice all soft and loving. But also teasing. 

Yumiko loved to tease Magna. They both loved to tease each other and fight for the lead. Fighting for who was going to be top. 

“Ugh, god. Yes, please. Please, Miko.” Magna whimpered. Pleasure definitely had taken over.

Miko cupped Magna's face with her free hand. 

“Oh, Mag. Would you please… please kiss me?”

“Damn, I thought you’d never get that out.” Magna moaned softly, whilst a wave of goosebumps hit her. 

And with that said, she finally crushed their lips together and got lost in their desire.

#creativepromptsforwriting #writing #writing prompt #writer #second language #german writer #may prompts #lets get creative #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd kind of smut? #magna x yumiko #yumagna #they are each other's adventures

[naturepointstheway]

Cats-pril 2023 prompt: Ball

Late to the party again, but here's a quick piece for the first day of @storyweaverofgondor's Cats-pril 2023 prompt list! Featuring plenty of Bombalurina and mute Mistoffelees friendship, as the latter tries to think what Tugger's approach feels and sounds like under his paws. He knows the others', but what about Tugger's?

Mistoffelees wasn’t surprised in the least that Tugger was late once again to the annual Jellicle Ball, and would once again come in at the least surprising time, catching him off guard. Every time Tugger had arrived at the ball out of nowhere, it had always caught Mistoffelees unawares, and every time, he’d had to slink away to calm down from the unexpected, loud noise from this goddamn Maine Coon. If he wasn’t careful, he was liable to be pushed away or smacked into by Tugger whenever he jumped down from somewhere high on the junkyard.

This year, Mistoffelees wondered if it might be different (probably not, he’d be shocked if it were otherwise), and though he tried not to let it show, his muscles stayed tensed, heart palpating with each sudden noise (just Tumblebrutus doing a flip trick or George chasing his tail and tripping over three of his paws), but still no Tugger.

Some time into the ball (Munkustrap now regaling the story of Thoth, the cat with wit and wisdom and wryness whose eyes shone like full moons), Bombalurina padded over to him, sitting a few feet away, understanding Misto’s need for space before approaching any closer.

“Mistoffelees, are you okay?”

He turned his ears in quick surprise in her direction.

“Sorry, you just seem a bit…tense tonight, love.”

He nodded—perhaps he hadn’t hidden his tension as much as he had thought.

“Is it about Tugger?”

Another nod, and Mistoffelees painted a picture of Tugger arriving at the junkyard with a sudden cacophony, pushing him aside as he had last year.

Bombalurina crossed her front paws over each other, stretching her whole body out, legs long and slinky. Her tail swished over her hip and the floor, back and forth.

“I thought you’d told him not to do it again?”

Mistoffelees nodded again in confirmation. He painted a brief picture of them talking by the fireplace as they had done last year, not too long after that Jellicle Ball.

Bombalurina pawed at the ground, spreading her paw out, claws unsheathing.

“I’m curious—how did you sense Old Deuteronomy’s approach last year?”

Mistoffelees gestured toward her paw.

“Something like this?”

He nodded.

Bombalurina tilted her head, curiosity in her eyes. “You can tell who it is before you see them?”

Another nod, a small smile escaping the corner of his mouth. It was already a whole year since he’d revealed his magic to everyone, and he still hadn’t gotten used to other cats actually conversing with him so casually. Mind you, Bombalurina never really minded him being around—Misto had a sneaking suspicion Tugger had told her all about his powers, hence her non-surprise last year at his magical display and her curiosity about his magic.

Lifting a paw, Mistoffelees painted a picture of himself growing still, front paws splayed on the ground, ears pert and eyes unblinking as the silhouette of a cat approached. A few seconds passed before he revealed the cat as Old Deuteronomy, and then as Plato, and then Munkustrap. He wasn’t sure how to express in a way Bombalurina would understand the way the vibrations of their paws rumbled under his paws even from a long way if he concentrated hard. Munkustrap’s paws flicked in short steps, planting pads into the ground with confidence and a constant rhythm—one, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Old Deuteronomy’s paws shushed against the ground, slow with a certain unbalanced cadence to their rhythm. One…two, three, four. More frequently than not, there would be a long pause before the cadence of his paws resumed with his slow approach. Plato’s had assured, youthful rhythms, soft and careful, an almost lulling cadence.

But Tugger’s?

If Mistoffelees were to be honest, he had never bothered to really listen to and learn the rhythm of Tugger’s footsteps from a distance. After all, they lived together in the same place all the time, and Mistoffelees never really had a reason to learn his steps. Why would he, if he knew Tugger was always somewhere nearby?

He drew the best picture of this as he could to Bombalurina, who appeared to understand what he was saying.

“Makes sense to me,” she said, tail now resting across her hips, the tip flicking idly. “You live together, he was always nearby, no need to, right?”

Mistoffelees nodded.

“But if you really concentrated, could you tell it was him?” Bombalurina shrugged. “I mean, I don’t have your magic, but I can tell when Tugger is nearby.”

Mistoffelees tilted his head as though to ask how.

“Well…” she chuckled in some amusement. “He is loud.”

You don’t say.

“Would you say…his paws have a kind of thumping quality to them?” Bombalurina demonstrated by readjusting her position to thump her front paws—forte vibrations rumbled from them under Mistoffelees’ own paws—on the ground.

Mistoffelees had to think about that one, closing his eyes to try and summon any semblance of the script of Tugger’s paw steps from his subconscious. A deep, drumming vibration, booming with a confident—even swaggering—rhythm, and only when Bombalurina spoke up again did he open his eyes.

“Omigod, your smile!” Bombalurina purred loud, her eyes sparkly with joy. “You know his paw steps, it’s just you’re used to them, right?”

Hmm…she’s probably right.

Mistoffelees again pointed his paw at her with a gesture of agreement.

Bombalurina laid down low on the ground, leaning her head on her front paws, an ear turned to the ground.

“What about now?”

Mistoffelees pressed the pads of his paws into the ground, ears flickering as he concentrated hard, listening and feeling for the drumming rhythm of Tugger’s approach. He closed his eyes, filtering out the dazzling dancing around him, paw twitching with concentration as he stretched it out, hovering over the ground, searching for Tugger’s approach.

And then—

There it was.

A drumming, a deep confidence, each paw step burning with passion, ego, love, and everything in between. The tempo quick, never hurried even despite already being late. He had not a care in the world, and Mistoffelees’ heart ached, wondering how it felt to be like that. To not care so deeply what others thought of you, to have so much confidence all the time.

Once upon a life I did.

That unexpected wayward thought disappeared as quick as it had come, Mistoffelees shaking off his confusion, forcing himself to concentrate, waiting until he was just a couple paw steps away to open his eyes and—

With the swish of one paw, he threw a bright spotlight right where Tugger leaped into sight on the junkyard with a loud meow, Bombalurina springing to her feet with an excited shout. On top of the junkyard, Tugger stopped mid-pose, looking around at the spotlight beaming down on him with slight puzzlement before it seemed to dawn on him. His eyes roved the junkyard until he made eye contact with Mistoffelees, who still had his paw out, grinning with unbridled pride and excitement he’d pulled it off.

Tugger grinned, blowing a kiss in Mistoffelees’ direction with a wink and swagger of his hips. He preened his mane, puffing out his chest, glancing back at Mistoffelees again with another wink at the tuxedo cat’s dramatic eyeroll.

“Misto! Bomba!” he jumped down off the upper junkyard, running up to them, spotlight following him as he swept Bombalurina off her feet, she linking her arms around his neck, nuzzling into his mane with loud purrs. But his eyes remained on Mistoffelees, shining with admiration and love for him.  

“Damn, Misto, how did you know?”

Mistoffelees simply smiled with a mysterious air, lifting his chin as he preened at his chest fur, brushing off his paws.

But inside, pride swelled warm and strong in his heart.

Now you’ll never surprise me, Tugger. Not that I’ll ever let you know.

#cats the musical #cats pril2023 #Bombalurina #Mistoffelees #Rum Tum Tugger #Tuggoffelees #Bomba and Misto friendship I'm here for it #mute Mistoffelees #Zurich Misto

[trippygalaxy]

wii music and slinky for ask game

AHAHAHHAHSH

OMFGGG 😭😭😭😭

How dare you shush me!! /j

#trippy answers #☄️comet sherlock☄️ #ask game

[dementedspeedster]

‘Mom’ + got any adooorable photos of Thad? (Cissie totally not trying to get blackmail photos)

Accepting || "Mom" Craydl Answers All Your Questions About Thad @chooseyourfxghter (Cissie)

"He's an AI not a camera!" Thad calls out only to be shushed by Craydl and slinkies his way over to Thad's computer before plugging himself in.

>>I do in fact!<< He says cheerfully as a photo pops up on the screen:

>>A blurry menace, but adorable!<<

"Oh thank the Speed Force." Thad mutters out as he glimpses the photo.

>>I have more too!<< And another image pops up on the screen:

>>He is...'baby'! As people say on the internet.<<

#ask #chooseyourfxghter #//sssh i know that's Bart in the last one but there are so few good images of Thad straight on. And refuse to acknowledge the teeth image. #Thad: -_-; I shouldn't have given him access to the internet. #Guest Appearance: Craydl

[brandonwayneb]

Every Day Is A Page

Joy Any

Journey Journal

Skylore Paige

Dragon Vogue+

Massive Neck Pain!

MASSIVE BINDU HINDU

VISHNU THE PRÉSERVER

How Knot Else.

ALES AVA

TOM ADAY

ADAMANTLY

DRAGON MANA+

MMIX+ MANAGEMENT

MIXI+

PIXIE+

SS+ ANY

LAAAAAAA DEEEEEE TAAAAAA

NO EXCEPTION HAHAHAHAHAHA!

HAPPY SLAY+

DRAGON BLOOD UNFORSAKEN+

SAVES ANY

SALES ANY

AVA ALES

ALE 🍺

SEE

WELSH+ SLAY,

SCOTTISH+ SLAY,

IRISH+ SLAY,

WALES* SLAY

RED+

GIVE UNFUCK USA TENNNNNNNASS SHUSH

A HUSKEY BESSTSTSTSTS++

HAPPY++

ANDREA+

BriiAnny+

S TO THE S

BRO. AVA!!

GRAPHIHEATTEA IN THE WORK MIXIE PXIE

ZAGGA!!

HIPSTER+ SLING LINGO YOYO

ESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTA

WHISPER THOUSANDS SANDS

SANDSCRIPTS ARM BLADE MOVIE POSTERS YOYO SLINKY, VIOLENT VIOLIN EYESTSTSTSTS

#news #allah

#news #allah

[time-slink]

ethoslab field notes… i love seeing all the little things people do to try and differentiate him lol

#shush slinky #<-not a textpost strictly but it’s in the spirit of one #there are so many others i’m not remembering #a healthy etho population has varied genes!

[scp372]

when i move out of california priority number one is adopting a ferret

#they’re so good. slinky #kazy shush

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT SAINT LOUIS

warnings: smut, 18+

-

Harry was doing his same script, he’s been starting every show but addressing the circular stage.

“Sometimes you’ll get m’face and sometimes you’ll get m’ass. Please, let me know if y’have a preference,” He gives the crowd a cocky grin, it widens when the audience goes insane with whistles and screams.

YN is standing off to the side, where she always stands with Harry’s friends and family who come and go - visiting them.

Harry’s eyes dart to his wife, when he sees her rolls her eyes at him, he points at her, speaking right into the microphone, “And you’ll be gettin’ the ass baby!”

The arena is near deafening with the fans who are fawning and cooing at the couples interactions, they all look back to YN.

She blows him a kiss and he dramatically snatches, smacking it right on his backside with a cheeky wink and purse of his lips.

He goes on with the show in his stunning red outfit that fit for Saint Louis perfectly - YN was matching him in a dark satin orange slinky dress that was undeniably sexy. It had Harry feeling her up backstage before he went on. ***

The fans loved that the couple matched at every concert.

YN loved watching her husband perform and after that comment about her getting his ass…well, it gave her some ideas for later.

The way the shirt he was wearing wasn’t buttoned enough so she could see the glisten on his chest, how the trousers hugged his perky backside like a sin.

It may be wrong, but everybody in this arena wanted him.

They want to hug him, kiss him, blow him, fuck him - but the only one who got that was her and she basked in it.

As Harry finishes with Kiwi, losing his absolute shit, YN and everyone else starts to head backstage. YN waves to a few fans and stops for a selfie or two before disappearing.

When Harry runs back to join, after dashing from center stage, he automatically finds his wife and wraps her up into a tight hug.

“Ew, bun. You’re extra sweaty, you definitely need to go shower,” YN crinkles her nose, pushing him off as he does stink a bit and is just sticky from sweat.

Usually, Harry would coerce his wife into joining him but they had quite a few friends who came to see the concert and YN was expected to entertain them.

“I’ll be thinkin’ about you, flower,” He teases, nipping her ear before chatting with their friends for a moment before he’s trailing off to shower and change.

-

YN waits a few minutes, enough time to guarantee he was already in the shower - soaping up.

She punches in the code to his locked dressing room, a soft smirk on her face as she steps over where he’s strewn the orange ensemble to purposefully piss off Harry Lambert - like always.

When she opens the bathroom door, she makes sure to be as quiet as possible - same as when she shuts and locks it behind her.

It a modern, standard shower stall and Harry is standing facing away from his wife - scrubbing his hair roughly to get the styling gel and grime out.

Harry’s shoulders are so broad.

His back is just…beautiful.

It’s so muscular, defined, and strong as he flexes his arms forward. Then her eyes trail down to his backside.

His bum was small, she loved to tease him and pinch it but it was muscular as well from those squats and wall sits he does in the gym.

After she quickly undresses, she steps in behind him into shower - pressing her chest up against his wet back and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Harry startles, nearly jumping out of his own skin before huffing out a laugh and leaning back into his wife, relaxing - well more like melting as he puts his weight on her.

“Thought y’were some crazy fan,” He jokes, hand coming down to cup the hers on his waist but frowning when she pulls back.

“Against the wall,” YN murmurs firmly, pushing him gently until his chest is against the tile and the shower head is pounding on his back and shoulders.

Harry shuffles forward, willingly albeit confused about what was going on and his wife’s demeanor as the cold of the wall hardens his nipples.

“Baby? Y’alright-“

“Did you wash yourself up already?” YN asks directly, hands rubbing softly at his sides, squeezing where his mini love handles are.

“M’body? Yeah, why-“

She cuts him off again, lips on his shoulder blade, “You told the crowd and me that I was getting your ass. I’m just holding you to your word.”

And when Harry realizes what’s about to go down, he lets out a low, explicit moan that echos throughout the bathroom.

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” He babbles excitedly, it wasn’t like this was something rare for them. They normally incorporated ass play into their sex life.

It was something about catching him off guard, when he’s vulnerable, and the post-show adrenaline has already worn off - making him malleable and pliant for his wife.

“You want to be all cocky, arrogant on stage, right? But look at you now, whining for your wife to touch you,” YN teases sharply, hand drifting down to squeeze his cheek hard enough to make him squeak.

“Baby. I’m yours, I’m yours,” He gasps, voice turning into a raspy yet high begging tone.

It was a tone of his voice that nobody in that crowd had or would ever hear. No, it was saved for her when she had him like this, like nobody else ever will.

“You don’t think I know that, Harry?” His wife laughs, fingers moving to sneak between his cheeks, pressing tightly against where he’s aching for her.

She continues, “God, I think everyone knows your mine. You can’t keep your eyes off me during the concert, parade around your wedding band, make sure my tattoo is always visible.”

“It’s ‘cause you- oh fuck, s’cause y’my soulmate,” Harry moans, pushing back on her fingers - wanting more but she wasn’t willing, “Need more, darlin’, m’close.”

She really wasn’t even doing much beside pressing at him, pushing in just the tiniest amount but he was grinding his hips against the wall a bit and her tits felt so good on his back.

Sometimes when he came off stage, he had absolutely no stamina.

Normally he could last but when he was adrenaline high and had basically edge himself in front of tens of thousands of people, it wasn’t going to be a long event.

“That’s really sad, H. Reminding me of when we were teenagers and you couldn’t last,” YN ends her rude statement with a bite to his shoulder before dragging her teeth down a bit.

It was just fun to get Harry worked up, he still acted the same from when they were younger - he’d get bratty and demanding, whiney, his chest and neck bloom into a soft pink color, and his eyes are a bit wet.

“Still just as much of a fool f’you, tha’s why,” Harry puffs out, hands continuously clenching and releasing over and over against the wall - like he wants to just make Harry wife touch him, tortured by her teasing.

“Fine, fine,” YN simpers, as if he was being a pain but she slips down onto her knees - hands dragging down his back and then his lean, solid thighs.

But in typical Harry behavior, he turns back and looks over his shoulder, “Sunflower, y’knees? We can move out of the shower.”

“Shush up,” She accentuates her words with a heavy handed smack to his right cheek and she chuckles when he gasps out a quiet, “Fuck.”

YN cups his cheeks, spreading them and leaning forward.

As soon as her tongue hits where he’s hot and tight, his legs twitch, and he puts his hands on the wall to brace himself.

“Darling, baby, baby,” Harry mewls, pushing back for more and hissing when she licks into him - his ring-bare hand leaning back to thread into her hair.

YN was planning to draw this out but she only gets a few directed laps before he’s moaning obsencenly, loud enough to hear through the god damn arena.

And then he’s gripping his cock, giving one firm tug, and he’s coming with pants and unfiltered, inconsiderate shouts of pleasure.

“S’good, m’good wife. S’no one better than you. Y’the only one who makes me feel like this. Crave y’like a drug, flower,” He praises endlessly, he turns around and helps her up - kissing her harshly.

When his hand comes to sneak between her thighs, she shakes her head and murmurs, “We don’t have time, H. Everyone is waiting on us.”

He pouts with his swollen pink lips, “I’ll take care of y’are the hotel, promise.”

“Mm,” She agrees, scrubbing the leftover shampoo bubbles from his hair as he tucks his face into her neck and tries make himself smaller.

Harry always gets a little sheepish after she does anything that makes him feel vulnerable, needs reassurance from her.

“Only with you, m’yours. Y’own my heart, ‘ave since we were fifteen,” Harry murmurs into her neck.

-

When they get themselves together, dressed, and exit the bathroom into the dressing room.

Harry Lambert is irritated as he is picking Harry’s clothing off the floor and putting it back on the hanger.

The stylist gives them a look, a knowing look, as he hangs the trousers on the rack.

“Fuck off,” The singer huffs, tugging his wife by the hand out of the room and to the car waiting for them.

#harry styles #hslot #harry styles love on tour #hslot!harry #hslotrry #hslot Harry #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #erodsafishtacos masterlist #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles smut #husband!harry #harry styles husband #Instagram

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #130/164

130 & 164 fit well together as kind of a “two parter”.

Oh my god! You’re in love with her! Why can’t they see they’re meant for each other?

Despite the image he maintains with relative ease, David Rossi wouldn’t consider himself an expert in love. Far from it, actually. After all, he’s been divorced three times, each one a bit more dramatic than the previous. He’s broken hearts as many times as his own has broken. It’s a relentless cycle that has made him overwhelmingly astute, the kind of wisdom that comes from years of experience.

He’s undoubtedly charming, knows his way around a wine cellar, and can woo even the most jaded of women.

Love, however, is a different story.

But if there’s one thing he prides himself on, it’s calling it when he sees it. As he’s learned over time, love is sometimes inconvenient, usually impractical, and something is always lingering in the shadows to tear it apart. It’s a test of survival, one he’s failed many a time.

Those years of experience are how he comes to the conclusion that Aaron Hotchner is head over heels in love with Emily Prentiss. He’s annoyed at himself for not calling it sooner, for not seeing the signs. Because today was one hell of a sign, and as he walks away from the crime scene, his heart pumps just a little faster, a bead of sweat lingering on his brow. A sign that was just a little too close for his comfort.

They’re in Boston this time, having been called in to catch a killer targeting brunettes in nightclubs. And as day two blends into day three without much more than a tentative profile and preferred location, they have to take a different approach. One Dave should have seen coming.

It’d been Emily’s idea to go under, posing as a potential target, one Aaron disagreed with from the beginning. Dave had watched him shoot her down immediately, an utter disregard that bordered on downright rude in front of half the Boston PD. It wasn’t the curtness of his voice that got his attention, or the way he held up his hand as if to shush her when her mouth opened to question his directive. It wasn’t that. It was concern, maybe even a touch of fear he’d seen in their normally unflappable Unit Chief. He’s met with Emily’s fury, an anger that radiates through her eyes, her arms curling across her chest in defiance.

But they have no other option, because catching a nightclub killer isn’t going to be easy, as Emily reminds him, unwilling to back down. It’s a good plan, she suggests, because she fits the bill and knows the profile.Aaron’s face darkens at the prospect. “He’ll walk right into our trap,” she reasons before it’s almost a done deal, and she changes into the slinky emerald green dress that somehow appears from nowhere.  

Dave has an inkling his reluctance goes beyond more than just simple concern for a subordinate just moments before they leave for the club. When sees her angrily stalking away from him, wearing that green dress that turns every head in the station, her hair fixed and fully made up, he knows there’s something between them. Something that’s been going on for awhile now. Aaron follows behind her, his mouth pressed into an angry line and his jaw set. His eyes don’t even linger on the dress - which suggests he’s seen it on her before. The only question is when that was.

“Disagreement?” Dave attempts with discretion as Emily disappears around a corner, her spine stiff and her shoulders squared.

He says nothing in return, only fastens the FBI vest around his waist, a sign of his defeat.

But as it turns out, in the end, Aaron was right, and Dave isn’t sure he wants to know all the details of just how he finds him bent over their unsub, menacing with a gun in his face less than two hours later. The Boston PD swarms around them too, their own weapons drawn in preparation. Aaron is seething, hissing that it’s over, an expletive falling from his lips.

“Hotch,” is what Dave says evenly, almost pleasantly, because what he recognizes in his face is rage. Rage for the fact that Emily was found with maybe seconds to spare before things went from bad to worse, with two broken ribs, a badly sprained ankle, a fractured cheekbone from being pummeled in the face. “We’ve got him. Go.”

When he escorts their unsub into a police car - a man whose name isn’t even worth uttering - he spies Aaron hovering around the open doors of an ambulance, mere inches away from Emily’s side. She’s bleeding at the knees, her face already swollen, as she’s loaded into the ambulance en route to a Boston hospital. They got lucky tonight, as they often do, but this one carries a little more weight. For more reasons than one.

...

The bar is where he finds Aaron after they get back from the hospital hours later, everyone in just a few more pieces than they’d been when arriving. There’s a drink in his hand and an empty glass beside it, suggesting he’s been here a bit longer than Dave originally thought. The clock on the wall approaches 2 AM.

“Shouldn’t you be with her right now?” He asks, taking the empty stool at his side. “Didn’t think I’d find you here.”

“JJ has it under control,” Aaron says stiffly, clearly not ready to elaborate any further because things are clearly still rocky. “I shouldn’t have ever agreed to send her under.”

“Did you actually think you’d have a choice?” The bartender brings another round for them both, and he nods a quick thanks. “Emily is … well, Emily.”

“I could have taken her off the case. But then I wouldn’t have been objective. What I did was based strictly on my own feelings.” It’s as close a confession as he’ll get out of him, so Dave takes a chance.

“How long have you been seeing each other?”

“Three months,” Aaron says honestly, maybe a bit too forthcoming, but that’s probably the alcohol talking. Has it been that long? Clearly by now, Dave knows their little secret. “She’s a little out of my league, don’t you think?” He scrubs a hand over his eyes, his face lined with exhaustion and stress, the emotional turmoil that comes with nearly losing someone you love.

“My God,” Dave whistles, the whiskey burning his throat and quieting the voice in his head that reminds him just how close she got today. He suddenly wishes he had a cigar. “You’re in love with her,” he adds quietly. It’s a statement, not a question.

Aaron swallows tightly, nods. “Is it that obvious?”

His face cracks into the slightest of grins. “No. I’ve just been around long enough to tell.”

...

The flight home from Boston is uncomfortably quiet. It’s like everyone knows to stay out of Aaron’s way, giving him space once they’ve boarded the plane. He gets on last, staying a safe distance away from Emily, even though he keeps a protective eye on her at all times. She’s on crutches for the next week - the ankle sprain was worse than they’d originally thought, and she curses under her breath as she maneuvers clumsily down the narrow aisle. Whatever went down between them in Boston is clearly still brewing, and Dave is glad they’re all headed to the sanctuary of their own homes. He says a silent prayer for whichever set of neighbors have the good fortune of listening to the argument that will most likely materialize once they’re back in Virginia.

“I’m fine,” Emily says firmly once she’s seated with her foot elevated on the seat across from her, ignoring the sympathetic smiles from Morgan and Reid, their offers to keep her comfortable. “Everyone please stop looking at me like I’m going to break into pieces.” Emily grumbles, clearly exasperated, gripping the armrests as she takes a few steadying deep breaths. From the corner of his eye, Dave watches her pop a pain pill, chase it down with some water, and stare at the ceiling for a few long moments.

Aaron settles not too far away, and it only takes a few minutes before they’re staring daggers at one another, a wordless duel laced with the remnants of previous arguments. It’s palpable, hanging in the air like a cloying smoke. Being in their vicinity finally gets too uncomfortable; he awkwardly shuffles down the aisle a few seats back, finding JJ in one of the seats with a book in her lap. She barely acknowledges him, just a little half smile as she stares at the pages, and it soon becomes painfully obvious she’s not even reading the words.

“You gonna turn the page anytime soon? You’ve been on -” Dave leans over to confirm - “page 177 for the last fifteen minutes.”

“Why can’t they see they’re meant for each other?” JJ mutters under her breath next to him. it’s meant for only him to hear, Dave does a double take, making sure he heard correctly. She catches him immediately, smirking behind her fist. “What? I don’t believe for a second you don’t know about what’s going on between the two of them.

He holds up both hands innocently, hoping it's convincing. “I know nothing.”

“Lie to me again, Rossi, and I’ll ask Strauss why she comes to your office every night when she thinks we’ve all gone home.” JJ snaps the book shut, tossing it to the side. “Now,” she says, lowering her voice. “Tell me what you know.”

#hotchniss fanfiction #prompts #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #and rossi because he's the captain of the Hotchniss ship and I can't be convinced otherwise #hotchniss

[velvet-paradox]

Preview for: Exposed

Kiara knows what she's doing is wrong. 

She knew it the minute she parked her car a few blocks down and over as to not be seen when you would eventually come home. She knew it when she hid along the alley's shadows until she hopped your back fence, shushing the dog next door who had come out with a yip. 

Dammit, keep it down!

She definitely knew it was wrong when she pushed up your living room window. You kept a few stray milk crates at the back to help you catch rain water in abused kitchen bowls from the gutters you had to get fixed. And for your friends to slip in through if they so chose to forgo the front door or back door.

Friends like JJ Maybank.

Kiara shivered when she thought of him on quiet nights, skateboarding or walking or stealing his dad's truck to come over here. Who knew what you two were up to. Things had gotten a little muddy lately, the jokes you two seemed to be laughing at were those of the inside kind. The secret kind. The slinky kind.

Kiara noticed and would narrow her eyes, and there was a strange new bloom of feelings for the surfing blonde that made her insides twist. After a long night of drinking and laughing and someone thought it was a good idea to start a fucking tickle fight in the Château's backyard, to inquire of that's how Pope had felt.

Did it really hurt like that?

She shut the window quietly once safely inside, pausing to see or hear if you were home yet. Silence. Kiara couldn't risk getting the police called, Shoupe would add another quota and her mom would certainly blow a fucking gasket. She was already mad for a number of years now just why her daughter wanted to hang around riff raff like you on The Cut. So scared she'd end up a Pogue but everyone knew, even before graduation that Kie was meant for the bigger and brighter city lights then stuck out here on the island. 

She just wasn't ready yet.

Tagging: @cherienymphe @synnersaint @out--of-the-reality @poguesarerogues  

#preview post #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x female reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank smut #obx x reader #obx x female reader #obx imagine #merry christmas eve

[rileywrites]

For a prompt: Nile/booker, "OH you're jealous" thank you!!

Thank you for your prompt! Read on Ao3 here.

...

"Hurry the fuck up, Booker! You're going to miss her at this rate."

"You can't rush perfection, Nile." Booker steps out of the en suite, resplendent in a maroon suit and burgundy shirt. "How do I look?"

Nile curses Nicky's sense of fashion. He picks outfits for Booker to torture her.

"You look good, Book. You'll knock 'em dead." Nile hands him his comm, and Booker hooks it to the wire he's wearing. "You good on weapons?"

"Boot gun, various knives, and several tranquilizers, just in case." Booker squares his shoulders. "Are you worried about me, Nile?"

Nile shrugs. "Nope. Just making sure. Run over the plan for me."

"I go in, meet Ms. Danvers, woo her with my 'obnoxious French charm,' to quote you, and get her alone and talking. Get as much info on her husband as I can, get in, get out." Booker waggles his eyebrows. "Do what needs doing."

Nile scoffs and smacks him in the arm. "Fucking rude. Go on, get, before she gets to the bar."

"Will do." Booker winks. "You got my six?"

"Always, you asshole. Go."

Nile gives Booker a head start, checking her own weapons (shoulder holster for her Glock, thigh knives, etc.) and pulling on her suit jacket to cover everything. Nicky and Joe have their eyes on the building from the front, so she's on bar duty.

Yay.

Booker is leaning on the bar when she walks in, so Nile posts up at a high-top table with a clear view.

The target enters, a beautiful woman of around forty-five in a slinky green dress. She's clearly on the prowl, and Booker is easy bait.

"May I buy you a drink, mademoiselle?" Booker asks, accent thicker than usual.

You can tell that she's American, because she finds the title endearing instead of insulting.

"That would be lovely, thank you." She holds out a hand, wedding band conspicuously absent. "Natalie."

Booker kisses it instead of shaking it. "Sebastien."

"He is so good with women," Nicky says in Nile's ear. "I will never understand."

"That is because you are an old gay man, habibi."

Nile shushes them and orders a drink. She's going to need it if she's going to watch Booker flirt.

"Do not frown, cara. You look too pensive."

Nile sticks her tongue out in the direction of Nicky's sniper scope. No one fucking asked him.

"So, what brings you to town?" Natalie asks, crackling in the wire.

"Business," Booker says. "My firm is closing a deal with a new client, and they wanted me here to help tie up loose ends."

"Are you in advertising?" Natalie asks, perking up. She also leans in, pushing her voluptuous bosom in his direction.

Nile knows exactly what she's doing. It's quite distracting. Booker's gaze drifts down, and Nile grits her teeth.

The conversation gets flirtier and flirtier, all the way until Booker says something about having-

"A whole suite to myself, because my business partner was unable to join me. It's a shame, the room is beautiful." Booker sips his drink. "It's wasted on me all by myself."

It isn't subtle. He isn't trying to be.

"We can't have that," Natalie says, fluttering too-long eyelashes. "Would you like some company? You can show me this beautiful suite yourself."

Hook, line, and sinker. Booker is damn good at his job.

Nile is grateful that he doesn't run point on honeypot stings more often.

"Get in, get the information, get out," Joe reminds him over the comm.

Booker nods slightly, making eye contact with Nile over Natalie's head as he guides her out of the bar and toward the bank of elevators.

Depending on how much this bitch talks, how much information Booker is able to get, they might be able to make an early night of it.

…

Two hours later, Nile has given up on standing in the adjoining room and is sitting against the door between the suites.

"…and it's been months since he's taken me out. He's constantly on business trips, Dubai one week, Moscow the next, Hong Kong, DC, Rio." Natalie sniffles. "He always brings me gifts, diamonds and furs and things, but nothing is as good as the attention I would get if he loved me."

"It's the diamonds," Nicky says. "Andy was right, he's hiding the money in his wife's jewels."

Thank fuck. After this long, surely they have everything they need.

"You deserve to be treated well," Booker says, gentle and genuine.

The sap has gone and empathized with the wife of a known criminal. Nile knew he was too soft for this.

"I cannot offer you a better marriage," Booker says. "But I can care for you tonight."

Nile grumbles as the comms fill with kissing noises. Fucking hell.

Miracle of miracles, they're interrupted by Natalie's phone ringing.

"Hello? Oh, yes, dear. Yes. You're coming into town early? You've got a present for me?"

Nile rolls her eyes, and she imagines Natalie doing the same.

"I can't wait to see it, my love. Yes, I'm out with the girls, but I'll be home in twenty minutes to meet you. Okay. I love you too. Twenty minutes. Goodbye."

Thank whatever deity is listening.

"Sebastien, you've been more than lovely." Kiss. "But I really must go." Kiss. "You've put up with so much shit." Kiss. "But he'll be mad if I'm not home."

"You should go. I don't want you inflaming his temper." Fabric rustles as Booker helps her into her coat. "Remember, you deserve better."

By the time he finally gets Natalie out of the suite, Nile is on her feet at the adjoining door, waiting with arms crossed.

Booker barely looks at her when she opens the door, already shedding his waistcoat and pulling the wire out from his shirt.

"Jesus, that woman knows how to talk. I know more about her life after two hours than I've known about actual romantic partners in the past." Booker loosens his tie further and opens his comm link. "Did we get it?"

"We got it," Nicky says. "Joe and I are signing off. Good luck."

"Good luck? What does he mean by - " Booker finally looks at Nile straight on. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh. I wasn't a fan of the gratuitous noises over the wire. You didn't have to kiss her."

"You didn't see her face. The poor woman is caught up in more than she realizes." Booker pauses, and something seems to click. "Oh. Oh. You're jealous."

"Pft, no. I just don't appreciate jobs being any longer than they have to be."

"This is more than that." Booker unbuttons his cuffs, and Nile forces herself to stand her ground. "Would you rather be in her position, ma belle?"

"Don't start shit you won't finish," Nile warns. "Don't tease me."

"I'm not teasing. I'm asking a valid question. Would you want to be in her position? The object of my flirtations, my… amorous attentions?"

"You are a pretentious asshole," Nile declares as she shoves him against the wall. "I hate your fucking face sometimes."

She uses the height advantage her shoes give her to kiss his dumb, smirky mouth.

For all his teasing, he wasn’t expecting that. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, but when it does his lips move against hers, his hands go to her hips, pulling her flush against him.

Even immortals have to breathe eventually, but Nile doesn't go far. She rests her forehead on his, arms wrapped around his stupidly-broad neck.

"If I had realized this was all it took, I would have taken Joe's duty as bait years ago." Booker laughs.

"Shut the fuck up," Nile says, breathless. "You're the worst."

"I may be the worst, but you love me for it," Booker says offhandedly, a throw-away line that Nile can't help but pick up.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Nile kisses him again, claiming his mouth. "I love you and your dumb fucking face."

Later, they’ll have to tell the others, there will be congratulations and surely some money will exchange hands. But right now it’s just them. And they have a hotel room to themselves for the rest of the night.

"You should show me your beautiful suite," Nile teases, unbuttoning Booker's shirt. "Would you like some company?"

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Never. Prepare for an eternity of teasing."

"With you? Happily."

#old guard fic #rileywrites #book of nile #Anonymous #RileyWrites Fanfiction #my work #the old guard #tog fanfiction

[beerecordings]

Three in the Morning

Part 24 of My Brother’s Keeper (Part 1 I Previous I Next)

tws: needles, discussion of past suicide attempt, suicidal ideation, choking, blood, death threats, panic attack including self-harm

All of that aside I’ve been waiting to give you cute kid content for so long hahaha. As a reminder, I’m not tagging for this anymore unless you really really need me to cause, uh. I don’t want to :) hey thanks for reading

Reversing time to bring him back from the secret he discovered, Jameson finds himself in the forest with Chase coming after him to bring him home. There’s help to be had back at the house, and even a warm toddler or two to hug, but running away has set off a chain reaction of fear among his brothers, and not all is well. Maybe it won’t be for a long time.

------------------------------------

“What were you thinking? What were you thinking? What were you thinking?”

He chants it against Jameson's ears. Waves of sound coming down on him. Crashing, smashing against the stones.

“What were you thinking? Did you think at all? You scared me to death, you scared all of us to death, Jameson, Jameson!”

He needs to stop yelling. He knows he needs to stop yelling. He knows he probably shouldn't be squeezing him so tight or refusing to let go of him or pinning him to his chest in the middle of the forest at three in the morning. Blood is trickling down Jameson's thorn-torn fingers and finding a place to stain the skin of Chase's arms. Sticks and roots prick meanly at their legs and thighs and shove against their bones. Chase does not care.

“Shit, shit,” he gasps, clutching him even tighter, and Jameson gives a weary little groan of a sigh against his chest, his fingers fluttering on Chase's arms. “It's okay, Jamie, it's okay, I got you.”

He thinks he might be comforting himself more than his little brother. Shit, Chase, keep it together. He sucks in air like it's Albuterol and he's asthmatic, forcing his chest to take it in. He has to stop freaking out. Why is he crying?

“I tried to kill myself last year,” he sobs, and he doesn't know what he's saying until he's said it, and Jameson goes still against him. “I don't know why. I didn't know what else to do. I just wanted a way out, that's all. It's not that I wanted to die. I just wanted everything to stop. It was too much change and I was afraid.”

Jameson's hands move from his arms to his back. Chase presses close, close against him. And there's a million more things that go along with the beginning of that speech – a million things he could say, a million ways to try and express this, the great crested wave of his understanding, I understand, I understand! – but he doesn't know how else to say them.

Jameson doesn't seem to need anything else. Eventually they are slumped back against the trunk of a great strong tree, their heads together, exhausted.

And Chase understands, and Jameson understands, and they're together.

“Just don't do that again,” whispers Chase, hidden against his shoulder. “Or tell me, at least, so that I can help you go and know that you're safe and going somewhere, instead of just trying to escape any way you can. I already lost Marvin. I can't lose you too.”

Two weeks ago, he had not known Jameson was real. But he had once woken up in a hospital bed surrounded by a family he didn't know he had, and before he could open his tired mouth to speak their names, already they loved him, so he supposes that sometimes, that's just the way things go.

And maybe this is something that Jameson doesn't understand yet, but he will. Chase promises. He will.

“Just tell me next time... I'll take you anywhere you want to go.”

“No,” whisper Jameson's hands in the cool light of the moon. “No.”

“You won't tell me?”

“I don't want to go anywhere.”

He looks up at Chase, his face wan with the shock of it all, dazed, even, exhausted. Chase feels the warm heat of his head and the pressure of his fingers, sighing blood into the back of his sleep-shirt, and nothing else matters.

“I made somebody a promise,” he says. “I want to try this again. If you still want me.”

“Oh,” says Chase, lamely, a shaky laugh falling out of his mouth. “I do, man. I really do.”

Jameson buries himself against his chest again.

And then, even smaller, he asks: “Can we go home now?”

Chase gives a little croak and hugs his shoulders. “That, little man, sounds really fucking good.”

------------------------------

The house that Marvin made them appears between the trees in the soft blue glow of the porchlight. Athanasius and the Queen lie side-by-side on the wooden slats of the deck, their tails swaying against each other, twitching on impact. From feet away, Chase can hear them purring.

At least someone's having a good night.

Jamie stumbles against his chest a little, rubbing at his eyes. “Just a few steps more,” Chase promises, his arm thrown protectively over his shoulder. Jameson doesn't answer, his face numb and his fingers wrapped limply around Chase's waist. Chase holds him tighter.

“Bedtime, huh?” chuckles Chase, pulling him onto the porch.

“I'm fine,” sign Jameson's tired fingers, and Chase laughs warmly at his determination, opening the door.

Jameson stiffens and his spine snaps straight, with just a little tense warning in the forward duck of his head and the black flash of his eyes. The change is so sudden Chase jolts, stepping back, and Jameson lets his arm slide away, his gaze piercing into the shadows of the house.

“What?” asks Chase, staring at him. “What's wrong?”

Jameson is frozen, teeth gritted in his mouth. Chase has never seen anyone's eyes glitter like that. The moon and the nightlight at the top of the stairs are mixing with the ferocity in his vivid eyes.

A soft cry echoes through the house, low and broken. Chase stiffens, grabbing Jameson's arm, and Jameson holds him carefully behind him, protecting his body with his own. Chase doesn't have time to be touched, though.

“What's going on?” he asks, a little squeakier than the first time.

Jameson holds up a hand.

“Breathing,” he signs.

“What?”

“Breathing. House.” He points into the living room. Everything has gone silent again. The silhouettes of the kitchen and living room stare back at them.

“Breathing?” Chase pauses, staring in. “You mean there's someone in there? You hear them breathing? Not Jackie or Schneep, I'm guessing.”

Jameson hisses air through his teeth.

“Intruder.”

Chase stares at him, caught off-guard by his intensity. “What happened to intruders with you and Anti?” he asks suddenly.

Jameson blinks and turns to look at him. His hand reaches uncertainly for the place on his side where he used to keep his knife when Anti would let him keep it. Chase nods slowly and steps in front of him. Jameson gives a little whistle of protest and reaches out to grab him and push him behind him again, but Chase keeps moving into the house, looking around, trying to calm the beating of his heart.

Jameson needs to feel safe in this place. Fear is learned. He will show him that there is nothing to be afraid of. Maybe he's imagining the breathing, or it's Jackie or Schneep after all, of even the cats, for fuck's sake. No, he won't let Jameson believe there's danger here. There are only so many things Chase is certain of in this world, but here is one of them – this universe is safe. His brother gave it to them to protect him. He steps through the kitchen and onto the soft pad of the living room and he hears Jameson give a shrill warning behind him, but Chase doesn't come back to him.

Sighing, Jameson summons his courage and creeps over to the couch, hoping to put Chase behind him again, ready to fist-fight an intruder up to three times his size if needed.

But that isn't what's waiting for him.

“Who the hell is this?” he turns to sign, almost accusingly, frowning back at Chase.

And Chase is laughing, his hands over his face, and then pulling Jamie slightly away from the couch, trying to shush him.

“Chase! Who, who!”

Her little legs are kicked into the pillows of the couch, wearing socks with clownfish on them. Her arms wrap around an extra throw pillow and her face is buried in it, so all he can see are her perfect little pigtail puffs sticking out of the back of her head.

He's laughing so much all he can do is cling to Jamie and try to keep the sound down, his chest welling up with the happiness of it. How long has it been since he saw her? Weeks, months? Eventually his eyes pick up on other new details to the room – a purse by the door, a woman's coat beside the couch, a discarded toddler-proof cup of Cheerios.

“My wife – my ex-wife is here. Jackie must have called her. Oh, shit! I'm such a mess right now, what's she going to think? Aw, shit, is she – oh! Jameson, this is my daughter, Izzy.”

“What?”

“Yeah! Don't look at me like that, I know I told you about her!”

“From the way you talked about them, I thought they lived back in America or something.”

Chase's face falls. “Sometime it feels that way,” he admits, the excitement dying down. He casts another look at his perfect little daughter splayed over the couch like she's got Slinky's for bones. He wants to wake her suddenly, but he won't, he won't, it wouldn't be fair to her. And he's trying to be a better father. Less selfish. He's let her down enough times already. “I need to sort this out.”

Jameson sinks down slightly beside him, and Chase is sorry to see that he still looks rattled by the stranger in his house, even if it is a little girl. The last time someone came into his house, Anti impaled them on the staircase. A pair of cops. After that, they left the great cold house. Jameson shivers. So close and so faraway. Like another life, but he's only just begun a new one.

“Hey,” soothes Chase, reaching out for him as he begins to sink with exhaustion of every kind, feeling heavy.

“Can I go lie down with Henrik?” he asks. “Please?”

“How about my room, okay?”

“I want... I want Doc.”

“I know, bud, but he was pretty upset when you left. I need to check that he's okay and then you can go sleep with him, alright? For now, let's go to my room, come on. Shh, let's not wake her.”

He leads Jameson gently up the stairs. There seems to be no sound at all up here, not even the movement of the air, and Jameson gives a nervous little click when he sees that Henrik's door is open and his room empty.

“He must be with Jackie,” whispers Chase, leading him into his room. “Lie down, okay? I'll handle this.”

Jameson has no more protest in him. He slips under the covers and Chase sees him curl in on himself and close his exhausted eyes. He'll come back to bandage his torn-up fingers soon, but for now, he's nervous. He needs to see Henrik and Jackie. Fuck, what a fucking night. What is he even supposed to be feeling right now? Angry that Jackie called Stace without telling him? Relieved that he did? Worried about him, scared for him? Does Jackie need him, is Jackie okay, is he freaking out? He hurries down the stairs and slips into Jackie's room.

“Okay, good news,” he calls, shutting the door behind. “I got Jameson back and everything... is going to be... Hunt?”

It's not Jackie waiting for him.

But on his bed, sitting up patiently, is another little kid.

Jackie's asleep beside him, his chest rising and falling steadily, his face nearly grey with exhaustion and beaded with sweat, one hand set on Hunter's fat toddler tummy. Chase can barely take his eyes off Hunter to look at him, stepping forward like he's afraid the floor has nails sticking out of it, emotion rising in his throat.

“Hi, Daddy,” says the boy, straightening up seriously on Jackie's pillows, a little smile gracing his round face. “You found me!”

“Hey, Hunt,” croaks Chase, warmth filling up his chest and a smile to match blooming on his mouth. “What are you doing in here with Uncle Jackie, huh, bud?”

“Oh, you know. Just waitin' for you.”

Hunter scoots forward conspiratorially, whispering. “Mommy didn't think you'd be back soon, but I knew you'd come find me.”

Chase laughs and reaches out, unsure of where they stand, but Hunter reaches back enthusiastically, and, with a kiss on his cheek, Chase has scooped him up and swept him into his arms, positioning him so he can lay his head back down on Dad's shoulder. Right where he belongs.

“Oh, buddy,” murmurs Chase, taking a deep breath of his strawberry shampoo. “My best buddy.”

Hunter stares up at his dad with intensity in deep onyx eyes, chubby kid fingers stroking at Chase's beard. Almost shaking from the weight of his love, Chase can only smile back at him and lean forward to kiss his face. Hunter responds by taking his chin between his two little hands and kissing Chase on the mouth.

“I missed you, Daddy,” he says, putting his head down on Chase's shoulder.

“I missed you, too, sweetie,” whispers Chase, putting his head against his baby's. “I missed you so much. Mommy just left you down here?”

“She went to check on Uncle Henrik. Cause she says he's not doing so hot.”

Chase frowns. “Did she? Are you sure they're upstairs?”

“Yeah, Papa. And she said, she said Uncle Jackie was going to look after me, so I didn't have to be scared of Uncle Sheep.”

“What, why were you scared?” Chase bounces him a little on his hip, backing off towards the hallway, leaving Jackie snoring thickly, his face full of mucus. He really caught the full brunt of that sickness he stole from Chase, but there's a little measuring cup with a blue Nyquil stain at the bottom, and he's grateful for Stacy amidst everything he feels about her. “You love Uncle Sheep. Was he fighting with Jackie?”

“I was scared cause – cause he was crying, Daddy, and he was yelling at Mommy.”

“He was yelling? At Mom? Schneep was?” Disturbed, Chase turns towards the door as if expecting a guilty Henrik to wander in through it. “Hunt, why was Sheep yelling?”

“He was having a really bad day, Dad.”

Chase laughs despite himself, clutching his chubby, warm little toddler closer to his shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“I mean like... a really bad day, like we talked about. A bad bad day.”

Chase's heart stutters. He rocks gently back and forth and tries not to sound scared when he speaks.

“Oh – oh, like how sometimes people have really bad days, and then they can't think right?”

“Or bad weeks, Dad, you said they could have bad weeks or bad months, and then they think really bad things and they do things they don't want to do, not really. Like they forget to go to your soccer game even though they love you, or they will – they will even hurt themselves, Dad, cause their brain's like – ” Hunter throws his hands up and rolls his eyes. “Ahh! Like that, Dad. Their brain is bullying them.”

Chase bites down hard on his lip. “Y-you were listening,” he manages, swallowing guilt like a horse pill. “When I explained that.”

“Is Uncle Sheep going to hurt himself too, Daddy? Will we go see him in the hospital?”

“No, baby,” whispers Chase, immediate and almost frantic, pressing his lips into the side of Hunter's head, squishing him tight, tight, tight to his heart. “No, baby, of course not. We're not going to let him do anything. No, Hunt, nobody's going to hurt themselves. Not Schneep, not Dad, not anybody.”

“He shouted at Mommy. He said a lot of bad words. He was crying.”

“He was scared, buddy. He was having a really bad day. He was really scared. Cause we've talked about how bad things have happened to Uncle Sheep, right?”

“He said he'd die if you didn't come home. And he grabbed a lamp and went crash! And it cut his hands. And he said he'd break his neck like that too and it was easy to break things.”

“Okay, okay,” whispers Chase, by now certifiably panicked. He stares at Jackie, asleep on the bed, snuffling and turning over. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sweetie, you shouldn't have had to hear that. I don't know why Mommy brought you with her.”

Hunter's face is calm. He clings to the collar of Chase's t-shirt, breathing slow and sleepy.

Chase closes his eyes and tries to re-focus. He needs to check on Henrik, but that's okay. He'll be fine, he's sure. Everything's okay.

Isn't okay, isn't okay, isn't okay, chants the voice in his head. He's in pain, my brother, my best friend -

“Uncle Sheep's going to be okay,” whispers Chase, rubbing Hunter's back, trying not to communicate his trembling to him. “And so is Daddy and Mommy and Izzy and Uncle Jackie. Say that for me, Hunt.”

It's a game they've played many times before. “Daddy's going to be okay,”  he repeats dutifully, looking up at Chase again. “And so are my uncles and Mommy and Izzy. Daddy's going to be okay.”

“Good boy. Good man. Now, listen – I need to go check on Schneep, okay?”

“Yeah, Dad. He was really scared.”

“Can I leave you here with Jackie again?”

“Okay, but then – can we watch Ponyo, Dad?”

“What? Ponyo?”

“Cause we always used to watch Ponyo.” Hunter is suddenly watery-eyed, rubbing at his face. “We always used to watch Ponyo, and Mom said we were coming to see you, and I want to watch it again with you.”

“Oh, sweetie. Soon, okay? I promise. I don't know how long Mom will stay.”

“But I can stay here with you.”

“No, Hunt. We've talked about this.”

“Your brain's still bullying you, Dad?”

Chase smiles sorrowfully, setting his child down at Jackie's side. “Yeah,” he whispers, blinking away tears. “Or at least, I haven't proven to Mom that it's stopped yet. But as soon as I'm better, we're going to be best buds again.”

“And watch Ponyo,” whispers Hunter.

“Yes. And watch Ponyo every day if we want to.”

Hunter lies back down, plucking at Jackie's sweatshirt. Jackie stirs, glances for a second up at the both of them, and falls back to a thick sleep.

“Well,” Hunter sighs. “That sounds pretty good I think.”

Serious, clever, sweet, beautiful, perfect little Hunter. “I love you, baby,” whispers Chase, and means it so much it hurts to say it, it hurts like fuck just to say it, rattling a tattoo against the inside of his chest – 'I love you, I love you, I love you.' It is the only thing he means more than the words 'I'm sorry.'

“One more kiss.”

Hunter reaches up to grab Dad's face again and Chase is pulled right to him, accepting a kiss on the forehead with closed eyes. “I love you too, too,” Hunter whispers back.

“Good night, best bud.”

“Good night, Daddy.”

Chase's hand shakes so hard he can barely close the door, but he leaves his son behind, as he has done so many times before, just hoping he'll get another chance to kiss him.

The faint cry echoes through the house again, but this time, it sounds angry.

Chase races up the stairs.

----------------------------------

Still water in the bathroom sink and the smell of his bile.

Henrik gives a little groan. His fingers yank at the cord around his throat. Stacy shoves him into the counter again and pulls back harder, her fingers between his throat and the cord, silent.

A steady stream of German whispering babbles out of his throat. In the mirror before them, she can see his blue eyes rolling. Against her body, she can feel his shuddering breathing.

“Hold on, man,” she says.

She's seen him like this before. She knows. She knows to keep her voice steady. She knows to keep his body pinned. She knows not to leave him alone. Not for one second. Not for one second will she let go of the cord he's wrapped around his throat.

They've been here for forty-three minutes and eighteen seconds. Nineteen. Twenty. Her digital clock stares back at her from the mirror. Twenty-one. Twenty-two.

He gives a cry. Yank, he's tearing the cord towards his bruised throat. She shoves back against his pull. No. He pants and tries to slam his head back to collide with her nose, but she expects him now, she knows all his moves, and her head is tilted so he strikes her neck instead. She coughs but does not flinch. He throws his skull back against her once, twice. She tries to pin him down against her shoulder. The more immobile he is, the better.

He laughs.

Cold and tittering in the shadows of his bathroom.

“Hey,” she says, flicking the side of his head with a free finger while he's distracted. “Cut it out. You're not Anti, dumb-ass. Come back to me. This isn't you. Henrik, come back to me.”

His voice drips out of his mouth strained like mud and soaks into her ears, a hiss, a groan. His accent is gone. He sounds Irish.

“Stupid... whore girl... what does she know about it?”

She shoves him back against the counter, hard, and hears him give a wheezing gasp, the fury on his face snapping in half and leaving him staring at her in the mirror, terror on his face.

“St-stacy? Stacy?”

“Here I am, here I am, Doc, hey, are you with me?”

“In my head – in my head – make – make him stop, Stacy, Stacy, help – !”

“You're having a flashback, Henrik, no one's in your head. I promise, I promise. You're home, you're safe.”

Chase is in the doorway of the bathroom. She sees him out of the corner of her eye. He hasn't moved yet – just blinks at her, despair filling up his familiar face. She smells the familiar smell of him, the alcohol, the whiskey.

“You think you can get away from me!” screams Henrik suddenly, throwing himself back against her. She braces her whole body with a little shriek and takes the full brunt of his weight, her fingers struggling with the cord as he yank, yank, yanks –

“I'm going to fucking kill you!” Henrik shouts, thrashing against her, spittle flying from his mouth. “You all think you can hide from me? You think Jackie can protect you? I'll put a bullet in your skull and this time it will stick!”

“Henrik, Henrik!” she cries.

“Schneep, it's us!” Chase shoves forward to help her, grabbing Henrik in a head-lock and helping her press him back on to the counter, the both of them snatching the cord away from his throat even as his finger struggle desperately with it.

“No, I have to get him out!” Henrik screams. “He will hurt you! Make him stop! I can't take anymore, I can't do it again, no, no! Get out of my head! Kill me, don't make me go through this again, Chase, Chase, my brother!”

“Here I am, here I am!” Chase grabs his wrists and pins them down against the sink. Stacy's hands slam down over his own and she pins Henrik again, ignoring his thrashing, stern as stone, and her black eyes flash up to him. “Stace, why is he bleeding? Holy shit, why are you bleeding?”

“Go get the emergency bag,” she orders, and Chase only lets his heart shake with the fear of it for a second before he turns back into Henrik's room and goes scrambling under his bed for the med kit.

“Wh-what's it called?” he stammers out, shoving through medical supplies.

“I don't know, the little brown one!”

“Motherfuck,” hisses Chase, yanking out the all-too-familiar bottle. “And the – the little syringe, right?”

“No, give me all of it, all of it,” sobs Henrik. “He's here, he's here! Where is Jackie, why doesn't he come help me? I can't go back, I can't, I can't!”

He screams and thrusts his head suddenly down. Stacy shrieks as he collides with the cold metal faucet on the sink and she ensnares his hair in her fist, yanking him mercilessly back to his feet. Blood wells beneath his shirt from the torn stitches around his torture wounds and he begins to cry frantically,  tearing at her arms, glass still embedded in his palms from the broken glass.

“I want Jameson!” he screams. “I want my puppet, he's mine, he belongs to me! You stole him away from me! I'm going to fucking kill you! I'm going to fucking kill you! I'm going to – ”

The thin blade of the needle embeds itself in his throat. For a second, Henrik's eyes dilate in the mirror and he croaks, low and confused. For a second, he is in control again, in his right mind again, and she seems him meet first Chase's gaze, and then her own, his mouth frowning, his eyes afraid.

“Chase – no?”

“Here I am, buddy, here I am.”

Henrik is going still in her arms. At last, at last, she can release him. Henrik staggers and collapses into Chase's chest, clutching at his shirt.

“No, no, no,” he pleads, a whisper, sinking to the floor as his legs give out. “Chase, Chase...”

He crumples. Chase crashes with him, cradling his body to his chest. Henrik's head lolls in his hands.

Still water in the sink. The acid smell of his bile.

“This isn't happening again,” says Chase.

She can hear him trying to convince himself. She shifts. Her arm stings where Henrik took a swing with his razor. It lies on the floor beside her, thrown into the corner, away from him. She kept him safe from himself. Forty-six minutes. Fifty-nine seconds.

“It isn't,” repeats Chase.

He is staring at Henrik. Hugging his thin frame. He reaches down and pulls glass from his palms.

“No, no. It was just one freak-out. He was just confused.”

“Chase,” she says, exhausted. “Chase.”

“He can't,” whispers Chase. “He can't go through this again.”

She buries her face in her hands.

“This whole house is falling apart.” She says it to her fingers, to her feet, to the floor. “When Jackie called me, I thought you'd run into the forest to kill yourself. Do you know that, Chase? I thought you were gone. You'd finally gone through with it. Then he tells me that apparently, your little brother is somehow alive – but Marvin is dead. Marvin.”

Marvin who loved her, Marvin who listened to her, Marvin who listened when no one else would.

“You should have told me,” she hisses, low and angry, her face getting wet. “He was my friend.”

“It's not withdrawal,” chokes Chase.

Still fixated on Henrik. Holding him like he could protect him from anything. They both know he can't.

“It's not possession withdrawal.”

But it is. It is. Possession withdrawal. Anti withdrawal. The confusion. The distress. Henrik's curse.

Took him two months to come fully back from it last time.

“It is,” she says. “Accept it now.”

She reaches out to touch Henrik's cheek, smudging away a drop of his blood. Chase looks up at her. Eyes blue and shining. He's still unfairly beautiful. An unfairly beautiful motherfucker with too much weight on his shoulders. And she knows - she knows, she understands - right now, she has to give him more, because no one else can be the person she needs Chase to be. The person Henrik needs Chase to be. Not when Jackie’s sick. Not when Marvin’s gone.

“You're going to have to keep him alive, Chase.”

She looks up and sees a shadow at the back of Henrik's room, outside of the bathroom, hiding in the darkness, silent and wary.

“You two have to keep him safe now,” she says, and Jameson's eyes, silver and blue, stare right back at her. “Or he’ll forget that he was ever anyone but Anti.”

#my brother's keeper #tw needles #tw suicidal ideation #tw panic attack #three in the morning #bee writes

[thecomposerofstories]

i got a prompt if it's cool. hamm had finished playing a horror game and is on edge, buttercup decides to spook him since he finds it hilarious

It’s always cool, Anon!💘 Sorry this took forever, I hope I can be forgiven XD. 

 “Quick! Turn around!” Trixie yelled to Hamm as he played on the laptop. Hamm was playing a horror game, where you had to make it out of an abandoned Asylum alive, but there were all sorts of creepy things and untreated patients lurking around the corner.

Hamm yelped as a one of the monsters caught him off guard, screaming at him through the screen. “Okay, it’s my turn now!” Trixie said impatiently as Hamm walked away, a little shook, as Rex watched Trixie continue the game.

“Hi Hamm!” Buttercup said as he walked abruptly to the piggybank. Hamm yelped again, the coins inside him rattling. “You okay?” the unicorn asked. Hamm nodded, trying to regain his stiff, calm demeanour. Buttercup looked at him suspiciously, before turning his head to see Rex and Trixie playing the horror game.

He smiled wickedly.

A bit later, and darker, Hamm was still a little shaken. He’d just woken up from a nap, to calm his nerves, (Although he didn’t have any). But it was alright, wasn’t it? it was just a stupid game. It wasn’t even that good.

Hamm then noticed it was much darker in Bonnie’s Room than usual. “Guys?” he called out. “You know Bonnie and her parents won’t be back till tomorrow, right?” he said. Bonnie and her parents where on a camping trip.

“Guys?” he called out again. “If this is a prank, stop it. It ain’t funny.” he scolded, but his voice quavered a little.

He decided to walk around the room. “Buttercup? Rex? Slinkykins? Potato Head? I know you’re in on this, guys, so stop it.” no answer. “Rex, I’ll give you my laptop time if you come out.” He said in a final attempt. Still no answer.

Hamm began to feel more uneasy. “Calm yourself, Hammond,” he muttered to himself. Then he tried to think logically. “They must be downstairs!” he smiled. Hoping he was true. So he went downstairs. Then he heard a rattling noise. “Slinky?” he called out.

Only to be disappointed. The was no sign of life anywhere, heck, from the looks of things you’d think no-one ever lived there.

That thought scared Hamm. He was reminded of the game he played. “Don’t be crazy,” he scolded himself. “Alright, Buttercup, you win!” he yelled. “I’m scared! Can you please come out now?” still no answer.

Meanwhile, the toys kept hiding. “Are ya sure we should be doin’ this? He looks upset.” Slinky whispered to Buttercup from behind as the unicorn giggled. “No, just a bit longer.” “But he promised to give me more screen time!” Rex whined. “Shush! I’ll give you mine if you be quiet.” Buttercup said sternly to Rex. “Time for stage two of our three-point-plan!” Buttercup said to the toys.

Hamm kept wondering the house. He was walking through the hallways now. He decided to hum to himself to calm down. “This is fine.” He lied to himself. “I’m actually glad you’re all gone. I can actually get some peace ‘round here!” he chuckled. Though it fell flat. He heard a noise. “Guys?”

Then he heard giggling. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew, though. It sounded deranged. It was coming from Bonnie’s room. Then it stopped.

Then a scream “Help! Hamm!” “Buttercup!” Hamm ran up the stairs, nearly tripping on several occasions, back into Bonnie’s room. Buttercup wasn’t there.

What was there, was the laptop. It was open, but all it was showing was static. Hamm went closer to it. As he stared into the screen, he could make out a face in it.

Then it lunged out and screamed at him. Hamm screamed to. Then the pig curled up in a ball and sobbed.

The lights turned back on and the toys jumped out from their hiding spots, hurrying over to him. “Hamm? Are you okay? Hamm!” Buttercup said as he rushed over to the pig while Trixie paused the video that was playing on the laptop.

Hamm was still curled up. Buttercup tried to calm him down. “Hamm, see? It’s okay.” Hamm looked up at the unicorn, sniffing. “There, see? You gave me a fright there.” Buttercup chuckled. Hamm was having none of it. he stood up and stormed off, to the windowsill. “Hamm?” Buttercup called after him.

No reply.

The toys began to worry. “I knew we shouldn’t have done this,” Mrs. Potato Head fretted. “You need to apologize to him!” she scolded angrily at the unicorn, arms crossed. “You said he’d be alright with it.” Mr. Potato Head joined in. “I thought he would, but I- I guess not.” Buttercup faltered, looking up to the windowsill, where Hamm was.

“…Hi.” Buttercup said as he sat next to the pig. “Hello.” Hamm replied frostily, not looking away from the window. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think you’d be so upset.” Hamm turned to him. “But I heard you scream. I was worried. I thought you were really gone.” Hamm looked out at the window again. Buttercup sat closer to him. “Well, you’re stuck with me, then. I won’t scare you ever again.” “Promise?” “On the Secret Unicorn Society!” He answered. Hamm smirked “That reminds me, if I recall correctly, you get to hug me every hour. And it’s been an hour.” The pig said. Buttercup laughed, and hugged him.

#thank you anon! #i hope you like it after you waited all this time XD #unipig #hamm #buttercup toy story

[chaoticslinkys]

First Rain

I made this a while ago and I keep forgetting to post it essentially its just when the slinkies first experience with rain, its kinda long so I put it under a read more.

Somehow you wake up well before your two bedmates, which is definitely rare on your days off but their probably still tuckered out from your guys outing at funland yesterday. Somehow they managed not to destroy anything, but that might’ve because you told them no kisses if they break something this time. You decide to get a start to the day seeing that it’s 9 but also mainly because your hungry, but to do that you have to get out of their grip first. Ever since Spinel and Spince started sleeping with you, you realized that they have a habit of wrapping you up in their limbs with you sandwiched between them. You didn’t mind one bit, in fact ever since they’ve started doing that your sleep has been amazing, only issue you have with it is when you have to get up. When you finally manage to get up and out of bed as your stretching you notice that they immediately snuggle into each other bringing a smile to your face, you decide to take a picture on your phone to save the moment ( and to tease em later but they don’t need to know that). 

On your way to the kitchen you look outside and notice the dark grey sky and realize it's going to rain at some point in the day, declaring today an inside cuddle day you move to get some breakfast started for the three of you. As your finishing up you feel a pair of arms wrap around your middle and a body and gem press into you from behind

“Morning”  Spince whispers into your ear with his accent heavy from having just woken up

“Morning sleepy head, she still sleeping” You ask him

“Nah she’s up, should be out in a bit though” he replies before yawning

“Good, now set up the table for me will you” giving him a peck on the cheek before moving back to get everything off the stove 

“Sure thing sweets” he replies before giving you a peck back and moving to set the table, right as he lets go of you Spinel walks in yawning before moving to hug you from behind just like Spince was not long again and nuzzling into your neck

“Good morning to you too sleepy head” you tell her while turning in her arms to hug her back

“Morning” you feel her mumble into your neck 

“Alright sleepy head I made pancakes and I wanna cuddle today so let me go so we can eat” you tell her, she immediately perks up because she fuckin loves cuddles and pancakes 

“Yeah Spins stop hogging y/n” Spince calls out from his place at the table 

“Shush let me love em” She hisses while tightening her arms around you making him laugh 

“Alright you two no fighting I’m hungry and I wanna cuddle and if you two start fighting I’m leaving this house to go find someone else to cuddle with” your warning shuts them both up immediately making you snicker. You give Spinel a peck on the cheek as you drag her to the table to sit.

 After breakfast they help you wash the dishes before you drag them to the couch proclaiming “Since today is so cloudy im making today a movie and cuddle day since this weather makes me sluggish” you say as you push em down on the couch before running off to gather blankets and snacks

“Doll are ya actually making today a cuddle day or are ya just messing with us” Spinel questions when your halfway to the bedroom 

“Yup, weathers gloomy so I wanna cuddle with you two all day while watching movies” You call back “Alright sweets, I am loving today already” You hear Spince cheer once you make it back to your shared room making you snicker, you gather up the blankets from bed before making your way back to the living room. You dump the blankets on top of them earning you a grunt from Spince and a yelp from Spinel before moving again to get snacks from the kitchen, no sweets though because your trying to keep them in one spot today. 

By the time you make it back to the living room they’ve both already covered themselves in blankets while leaving a space for you between them as well as set up the TV to watch movies. You set the snacks on the table in front of the couch before squirming your way under the blankets and snuggling up between them. “Alright what are you two in the mood to watch” you ask them as you grab the remote from Spince’s lap.

“Can we watch some animated movies I really liked those” Spinel perks up “Yeah! I love those they always have pretty colors” Spince adds on

“Alright animated it is then” you say as you snuggle in between them while scrolling through your playlist. 

Halfway into the fourth movie your falling asleep with your head on Spinels lap and your feet on Spince’s lap. You honestly didn’t want to fall asleep but with Spinel running her hands through your hair and surrounded by their warmth it's impossible to not fall asleep. 

Although not long after you fall asleep you wake up to Spinel shaking your shoulder and whispering nervously

“Doll wake up somethings wrong” she tells you while looking around

“What, whats wrong” you ask her as you sit up and rub your eyes

“Cant you hear it its so loud” Spince whispers from his crouched position next to the couch. As you start listening closely you realize that its raining, and its raining hard. Instead of answering them you decide to have a little fun with them and stand up from the couch. As your making your way to the door you can hear Spinel whisper shouting to you. “Y/n, where the fuck are you going, don’t go to the door we don’t know whats out there” As you reach out to open the door you hear both Spince and Spinel shout out your name. You decide this is to much fun and continue to just pull the door open and step out onto the porch. As your walking out you hear both of them running towards you to pull you back in. When you hear them reach the door you turn around and meet their panicked faces with a grin.

“DOLL/SWEETS WHAT THE FUCK” They both yell out at the same time while pulling you into their arms. At that point your just laughing so hard your wheezing while their giving you the most concerned yet confused look.

“Uhh y/n why are you laughing after running towards you know, danger” Spince questions you as both him and Spinel tighten their hold on you

“Because were not in danger, look” You say as you turn to look out towards the front porch

“Um y/n why is water falling from the sky” Spinel asks you while turning to face outwards as well “Its called rain and it happens when the clouds carry to much water and they need to drop some of it” you explain to them

“Sooo, were not being attacked then” Spince whispers into your ear making you giggle

“No, slinky we aren’t being attacked its just raining really hard” you respond while getting out of their arms. You start walking towards the edge of the porch and they start freaking out when you move to step into the rain

“Alright alright relax you two look its not gonna hurt me its just water see” you tell them while sticking your hand out into the rain “see perfectly fine” you turn to look at them and realize their both still tense and nervous. You think for a moment and come up with an idea that might make em both relax. “Alright slinkies give me your hands” You tell them while reaching out for them “What, Why?” they both question at the same time making you snicker “Just trust me alright this is gonna get you to both relax and i have a feeling your both gonna like it” you tell them while reaching to grab their hands. Once you start pulling them out into rain they seem nervous but when the first drops fall on them they start to relax and just get this look of pure amazement on their faces that just fill your chest with warmth and brings a soft smile to your face. Although its raining so hard your soaked in seconds, but you really don't care considering you love the rain and your too preoccupied looking at your slinkies being amazed by rain. You decide to get them a little more into the rain by running towards them and jumping in a puddle near them making them jump from surprise “Sweets what the hell” Spince asks while he and Spinel shake out some of the water from their loose hair

“Yeah doll what was that for” Spinel asks as well “Well ya see the point i brought you out here for was so you can see just how much fun you can have in the rain, and one of the things you can do is jump in puddles” you tell them while you stomp in the puddle your in “another is just a more intense way of playing tag” as you say that you stare at them before jumping at Spince and yelling out “TAG YOUR IT” before booking it “HEY I WASN’T READY Y/N” He yells out before chasing after you while spinel is just laughing but not before Spince turns around and tags her while she’s distracted 

“HEY” She yells out before running after the two of you. The game goes on for about 20 minutes until they both decide to team up to catch you. They end up cornering you and as you try to get away they wrap their arms around you and smoosh you between them, Spinel behind you and Spince in the front

“Tag, we win” they whisper into your ear making you shiver in response “Hmm i guess you two did” You hum back. You would move to go back inside the house but honestly you feel too comfortable and safe just being hugged between the two of them, especially considering since they started humming and swaying. As this goes on you lay your head against Spinces, chest right above his gem, and he rests his head on top of yours while Spinel rest hers on your shoulder. Your starting to get really sleepy when you sneeze, scaring the shit out of both of em. “DOLL YOUR GONNA GET SICK CUZ YOUR COLD” Spinel yells out after recovering from her scare “OH FUCK YOUR RIGHT LETS GET HER INSIDE” Spince yells out while picking you up and running towards the house.

“Ill be fine you two ive spent time out in the rain before” you tell them while laughing from how much they over react. Although you think its sweet how concerned they are for you.. “Yeah right doll, we aint risking ya getting sick” Spinels snorts out as she closes the door behind her. 

“Pft i dont get sick that easily” you huff out as Spince drys out your hair with a towel and Spinel is going through your drawers for some dry clothes “And plus we gotta get ya warmed up Sweets we really don't want you getting sick we heard that its not a nice feeling when humans get sick” Spince tells you.

“Fine, fine, but i want cuddles to get warmed up then” you give in “We can do that doll” Spinel tell you as she hands you dry clothes. After your changed you hop into bed and they follow right after you taking their place on either side of you before wrapping you up in their arms

“Good night slinkies i love you” you whisper after you get comfortable between them

“Good night love ya too y/n” you hear them whisper back as your falling asleep making you hum. Although, needless to say you ended up getting sick the next morning and lets just say they said “i told you so”.

#spinel #male spinel #spince #spinelxreaderxspince #SKy made this