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#*insert eye bags emoji*
holyviolence · 1 year
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my day will be so fine and then boom
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mavrintarou · 1 month
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[11:16 PM] Sakusa Kiyoomi
It's been a while since I last posted about Omi-Omi. Happy (belated) Valentine's Day!
Warning: mild angst but reconciled and happy smut (18+)
.
Kiyoomi set his gym bag in the usual spot of his apartment. Tonight, his home felt unusually cold and empty.
Switching the lights on, he is met with two floating balloons and a bag with red and pink hearts printed all over it.
He let out a chuckle and grabbed the bag, pulling out the tissue paper that was stuffed inside. He found all sorts of chocolate inside, his favorite chocolates.
Happy Valentine’s Day, jerk.
Y/n
Kiyoomi released a deep sigh. He and Y/n had gotten into an argument two nights ago, he couldn’t even remember what it was about. But it was 48 hours of silence from Y/n, 48 hours of emptiness.
The phone line rang repeatedly until it went to her voicemail.
He’s sent her three texts and they were left unread.
“C’mon…” he whispered, pacing around his place. “Pick up, please…”
A click came from the other line and he exhaled, “Y/n, thank goodness, where – “
“Hi, this isn’t Y/n but I’m her coworker!”
Kiyoomi frowned, and growled, “where is Y/n?”
“We are at a company dinner and she’s here… a little intoxicated…”
Kiyoomi could hear mumblings in the background, “… who is it…”
“Where are you guys?” he asked, heading to the shoe rack to put his shoes on.
He heard muffling but couldn’t hear clearly.
“… don’t tell him where I am…”
“… he’s mean and I don’t – I don’t wanna see him right now…”
His heart dropped.
“Hi, hello? Are you still there? Omi? Is this Omi with a white heart emoji next to your name? The Omi that is mean?”
“Yes,” Kiyoomi answered defeatedly, “this is Omi.”
“Look,” whoever this person on the other line whispered, “she keeps saying you are mean and she doesn’t want to see you but I secretly know she does, women to women, she wants to see you… we’re… we’re at the XXXX restaurant.” She paused before whispering loudly, “come get your girl!”
.
Kiyoomi’s strides were only half their usual length, and he inserted a two-second pause between each step. Y/n, with a gloomy mood, followed four feet behind him.
Arriving at the restaurant, he discovered her sitting sadly at the end of the table, all alone. Her colleagues were accompanied by their partners, but Y/n was left by herself. Kiyoomi felt a lump of guilt in his throat; he should have been there with her.
Their most recent argument stemmed from this issue. Y/n had requested him to cut short his training if possible for one night, but he declined, emphasizing the priority of his training.
“I’m simply asking if you could leave an hour earlier, or even thirty minutes early to make it to dinner, if it’s feasible. Can you not even manage that?” Her voice was tinged with angst.
“No, you understand how important my training is. I can’t simply leave early for something like this.”
Something like this…
Now, he felt the full weight of guilt engulfing him.
He halted and glanced back, noticing that Y/n had also come to a stop, gazing into the distance. Following her gaze, he spotted a small shop with claw and capsule machines.
He is reminded of his snarky comment about her liking such stupid things.
Walking up to her, he waited until she looked at him. “Let’s go,” he said jerking his head towards the shop.
Her cheeks were still rosy from the alcohol, her eyes weren’t as lively as they should be. “No,” she grumbles, looking away with a pout. “It’s just stupid stuff,” she attempted to walk around him when he caught her wrist and began tugging her towards the store. “What are you doing?”
He ignores her question and tugs her gently along until they get to the change machine. Stuffing a few bills inside to exchange for tokens. “What would you like?”
She looked at the handful of tokens and then his eyes, and with a weary tone she asked, “why are you doing this?”
“Because you like it and it makes you happy,” his tone is gentle and careful, “and I want to see you happy.” He puts a handful of tokens in her palm. “Go, show me what makes you happy.”
Still pouty, she closed her fingers around the token and walked around him.
Kiyoomi smiled to himself, knowing deep down she was excited.
.
“Are you satisfied with your wins?” He stared at the bag full of plushies and capsule toys.
Y/n nodded, restraining a bright smile on her lips. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Seizing the opportunity, Kiyoomi extended his left hand, asking, “can you hold my hand?” He let out a quite breath when she placed her palm in his. They walked side by side in silence.
“Where are we going?” she asked quietly.
“Let’s go grab some junk food at 7/11 and... my place?” He prayed she would come over but instead, she looked at him as if he had two heads. Chuckling, he knew why she was looking at him weirdly. He was completely against eating any junk food, let alone anything from a convenience store. “A little junk food won’t kill me.”
“It might make you sick though?”
“Shh, don’t jinx me like that.”
.
Sure enough, it did make him feel sick.
All he ate was a cup of instant ramen, and within less than an hour, he started experiencing stomach churning.
“I told you,” Y/n scolded, yet concern was written all over her face. She quickly ushered him to lie down on the couch.
If it meant for Y/n to nurse him and show him affection again, the stomach ache was worth it.
He groaned, “it hurts…”
Digging through her purse, she tried to look for her pill box. “Here, take this medication. It’ll help with the tummy ache.”
He accepted the small pill and popped it into his mouth, taking it down with water. He grabbed her hand, “rub my tummy like you did that one time.”
Y/n hesitated, staring at him suspiciously before reaching to push his shirt up to reveal his abdomen. She ignored the ripples of muscles and put pressure on a certain area of his body.
Kiyoomi groaned, feeling instant relief.
She reached for his hand and placed it with hers, “when you have a tummy ache, always press this pressure point.”
She was about to stand up when he stopped her. Panicking he asked, “wait, where are you going?”
“I’m just going to make you some rice soup.”
He still pouted, watching her walk away to his kitchen.
A few minutes later, she returned with a bowl of steaming contents. “Bland, just the way you like it,” she mentioned, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. “How is your stomach feeling?”
“It’ll feel a lot better if you do it…”
Y/n scoffed and slapped his hand away, “you’re such a baby.”
“Correction, I’m your baby…”
Y/n narrowed her eyes at him, “who are you and what have you done to Kiyoomi?”
Kiyoomi’s lips turned downwards. “Omi…” he corrected quietly. When she doesn’t respond he bites his lips nervously. “I’m sorry.”
Her brow raised, and she looked at him as if she didn’t comprehend what he was saying.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, louder this time. “I have been a jerk and insensitive to you… I have not been compromising and mean to you and I’m sorry,” he bowed his head. “I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore. I’ll do better, I promise. Please don’t leave me.” His voice cracked at his last part of his sentence.
“Leave you? Who said I was leaving you?”
“But you didn’t want to see me?”
Y/n frowned, confused. “When did I say that?”
“Earlier on the phone, I heard you telling your coworker that you didn’t want to see me…” very quietly he added, “that hurt my feelings.” He felt childish but he wanted to be honest.
“I didn’t want to see you is very different from I’m leaving you,” Y/n clarified. She sighed, running a hand through her hair before reaching for the bowl of soup. She blew to cool the spoonful of soup before bringing it to his mouth. “I said that I didn’t want to see you because I knew I would give in and forgive you.”
He swallows the soup before asking, “please forgive me?”
“I saw your face so I already forgave you.”
He couldn’t ignore the cheering in his mind. “Do you really mean it? You forgive me for being a jerk?”
“Yes, you jerk.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“But you called yourself that too?” Y/n countered, shoving a spoonful of soup into his mouth. “Eat and feel better.”
Kiyoomi smiles, “… kiss me, that would really make me feel better.”
The corner of her lips tugged upward, “you sly jerk…”
He sits up, bringing his face close to hers. “Please, a kiss?”
She pecks his lips.
He pouted, “that’s not a kiss.”
“Yes it is, my lips touched yours.”
He blinked and then frowned, “that was hardly a kiss…”
Y/n raised a brow, challenging him, “then what’s a kiss to you then?”
And he showed her.
He cupped her face, tilting it before pressing his lips against hers. As soon as she gasped, he slipped his tongue in, meeting hers in a tango.
“Omi…” Y/n breathed, pushing him away to catch a breath.
His lips continued to her jaw and down her neck. “Please Y/n…” he begged, tugging at her tucked-in dress shirt. He pulls away and looks at her with dark pupils, waiting for her consent.
She launched at him, knocking him onto his back once more. Her mouth moved hungrily against his as she tugged at his clothes.
“I’m not going anywhere…” he chuckled.
“You will be if you don’t take help take our clothes off…”
Their clothes lay carelessly on the ground seconds later.
Y/n raised herself and straddled his lap. She rocked her hips, gliding her pussy along the length of his cock.
Kiyoomi hissed loudly as his hands gripped her hip tightly, nails digging into her hip bone. “Don’t –“ he choked, “don’t tease me…” He didn’t miss the smirk on her lips.
Having enough of not being inside of her already, Kiyoomi flipped them and shifted her underneath him. His hand found one of hers and threaded their fingers together, clasping tightly. He searched her eyes and she answered by lifting her hips.
“Haa, you’re going to be the death of me,” he sank his cock into her sweet pussy.
He waited a few seconds, savoring the intimate bond. Kiyoomi peers down at her before pressing his forehead against hers and without breaking eye contact, he whispers, “I love you.”
He doesn’t express those three words as frequently as he ought to, but he can observe the way her eyes illuminate when he does. “I love you, Y/n…” he repeated, rocking his hips slowly but deeply. “I know I don’t say it often enough for you but you are my everything… and I never want to be without you again…”
Y/n released a soft whimper and cupped his face, connecting their lips. “I love you too, Omi…”
It was soft lovemaking.
Each rock of his hips was gentle with care, with love.
“Let’s cum together?”
Y/n nodded, tightening her arms around his shoulders and soon their bodies trembled in release.
Kiyoomi pulls Y/n up and they sit down, still connected very intimately. He reached for the bag of chocolate, took a piece, and unwrapped it before placing it into her mouth. Then, he helped himself to a piece as well.
“Thank you for the chocolate,” he murmurs.
Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Omi.”
. . .
E/n: Going back to Teo now...
>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy
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Late night driving headcanons
task force 141 x reader
synopsis: late night drives with members of task force 141
notes: Ghost's part is inspired by this request; also wrote big parts of this during a night ride (going back to college). Hope you enjoy
warnings: none?
masterlist
Captain 'John' Price
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He knows it the moment he steps out of the base, around midnight, and finds you parked next to his car, mindlessly scrolling through your phone in the driver's seat. You don't have to tell him anything, he just throws his duffel bag in the back and climbs into the passenger seat, putting his seatbelt on.
You do not meet his eyes as you turn on the engine and leave the parking lot with one hand on the steering wheel while the other one is resting on the gear knob, your fingers impatiently drumming against the hard plastic
Resting his head on the headrest, Price turns to look at you, his eyes filled with silent adoration as he rests his left hand atop yours and starts to rub circles into your skin. He does not miss the satisfied sighs that leave your lips.
The night is dark and the car is silent, yet his touch is loving and reassuring, his quiet presence being a constant you always can rely on. The city lights filter through the windows of the car, casting your concentrated figure in a fluorescent glow. Price wouldn't admit it in front of you, but in moments like these, you take his breath away, both figuratively and literally
It is when you are stopped at a traffic light that you eventually let out a deep sigh and start talking. At first, you have a hard time finding your words, as you usually do when trying to open up, but John's presence has a soothing effect on you, his soft, yet approving smile helping you to keep going
Like usual, Price keeps stroking your skin and listens to you carefully, nodding along to what you are telling him. Whether you had a bad day at work, the printer broke again or your professor at the university did not grant you an extension for the final assignment - he will pay utmost attention to the details that ruined your day and try to find the best words (and potentially actions) that will make you feel better
Is someone bothering you at work? He might swing by during lunch break with his full tactical gear on. Has the printer stopped working? He will carry the new one on his shoulders and lay it at your feet. And the professor? If he cannot change his mind regarding your due date, he will help you himself write that essay (and tear the local library apart in the process)
After you make your usual stop at the gas station for fuel and snacks, you roll the windows down to the cool and refreshing night air, one hand casually resting on the window's edge while the other is holding the steering wheel
You can't help but smile at the familiar scent of Price's cigar and you let out another sigh, yet this time it is a content one.
"Remember, things always work out, little one!", he eventually says when you park into the driveway, ruffling your hair and planting a kiss on your forehead. You place your hands on his shoulders and kiss him on the lips, closing your eyes when you feel his fingers in your hair.
"As long as we are together, we will both be fine!"
Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley
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Ghost knows something is wrong when your messages stop containing emojis. While he is not an emoji person himself, he secretly enjoys the creative and suggestive ways you find to insert them in any of your messages.
But what makes him leave work earlier than usual (and spend only one extra hour on base instead of the usual three) is your clipped reply of "I'm spending the night in. I'm not feeling really well." which is devoid of any bed, sleep or whatever weird emoji he could think of.
And before heading to your place, he makes an extra stop at his, switching his pickup truck for his beloved motorcycle. It doesn't take him long to get changed into the black protective gear and make sure the spare, smaller-sized matching piece is stored in the top case, alongside a matching helmet.
Five minutes later he's at your door, his brows furrowing at the sight of your tired figure. Instead of giving him your usual reassuring smile, you just gesture him to come in and he has to place a hand on your shoulder to stop you from turning your back to him.
'You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to. But we're not spending the night in either.'
It's your turn to frown at his cryptic words, and he gently takes your hands and leads you out of the house until his motorcycle comes into view. He keeps his eyes glued on you and his heart skips a beat when he notices the faint grin that appears on your face, your hands still clasped tightly to his.
'And before you ask, yes, I took your protective gear to the dry cleaners. And you can borrow one of my balaclavas...'
He does not miss the mischievous spark in your eyes and he has to fight the butterflies in his stomach as he knows exactly what you are going to say.
'Can I have the one with the skull on it?'
Playing hard to get is his speciality, so he resorts to rolling his eyes dramatically, blinking rapidly for effect.
'I am wearing it right now-'
'That's why I asked.'
He takes off his balaclava with a loud sigh and gently pulls it over your head until only your smiling eyes are visible. The corners of his mouth quirk up at the innocent, yet grateful look you are giving him and he shakes his head in defeat as he reaches for an identical balaclava in his pocket
Eventually, Ghost can't help but beam at your wide-eyed expression, before helping you get into the protective suit and ensuring the helmet is firmly placed on your head. You do not miss the tender looks he gives you when he thinks you're not watching and you start blushing when he is busying himself with the strap of your helmet, his warm breath fanning over your face
Once his helmet is back on his head, he gets on the motorcycle and gestures for you to join him. It's not the first time you're doing this, but you still get lightheaded at the thought of being so close to him. Yet, as usual, you do not miss the way his body relaxes as you slide your arms around his waist and press yourself against his back, resting your head on his shoulder
The hum of the engine is a distant buzz in your ears as you relish in the friction of the protective costumes and the warmth the body-to-body contact has caused to course through your veins.
The city lights come and go so fast they turn into a blur, and the usual hustle and bustle of the city become a distant sensation as the cool night air embraces your figure the same way your arms encircle Simon's waist.
In that moment, his presence is what keeps you grounded and safe, your hands tightening their grip around his waist as you let out a sigh of relief. No day can be completely ruined as long as you have Ghost by your side.
Sergeant John 'Soap' MacTavish
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He does not need a pretext or excuse for a car ride; he'll simply text you or show up at your door with car keys in hand
And you'll only smile at him, rolling your eyes at his sheepish expression and mechanically putting on your shoes as you ask him:
'Who's driving?'
If he had a long or exhausting day at work, he'll simply hand you over the keys, placing both of his hands on your shoulders and guiding you to the car.
But other times he would swing the keys around his fingers and extend his hand as an invitation, gallantly leading you to the passenger's seat where he would fuss over you triple-checking the safety belt and trying to sneak as many kisses as possible
'Not my fault your face looks so kissable!', he'd manage to articulate the words between pecks and your childish chuckles
There were a couple of times when the 'innocent' pecks turned into something more and you had to call it a night and move into the house.
But he usually manages to stop in time, both to yours and his dismay and get in the driver's seat without causing any more distractions
Soap's the kind of guy who would sing his heart out so you two have several shared playlists prepared for the occasion. Depending on who's driving, you or he would choose one of them, put it on shuffle, and let the chaos begin.
You like to sing along as well, but that does not mean that either of your voices actually match the rhythm of the music. If asked, you would both argue that your renditions are decent, but in reality...
There was this one time where you were stopped at a red light and Unchained Melody was the next song to be played. You two had a great time trying to hit the high notes that the original duo did, singing your hearts out in the car, with both windows rolled down.
Let's just say the group of bikers that were stopped on the other lane were not fans - neither of the song nor of your performance.
But the small altercation did not stop you from spending another hour just cruising around the city, and enjoying the overwhelming amount of neon signs and streetlights that filtered through the tinted windows of the car
Sergeant Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick
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It is a tradition that casually started the first time he came back from a mission. You were both lying on the couch, cuddling and watching some random sitcom
All was good and fair until you realized you had run out of snacks. And since it was one in the morning, ordering in was not an option.
So you hopped in the car and let Gaz drive around to the nearest gas station to see what you can get
Gaz is definitely the type of guy to say 'I know a place' and proceed to drive you to some hard-to-get, yet breathtaking place. That is what he did that first night, driving you to a quiet place from where you could see the entire city.
You opened the trunk and ate the snacks in there, resting your head on Gaz's shoulder and he on top of yours.
Since that night, every time he comes home from a mission, you go on a hunt for snacks and end up in your snacking spot, as you like to call it
'A snack with a view', you would often joke to Gaz as you huddled in his warm embrace
'Wait- I think the view's missing something...'
He would place his hands on your shoulders, turning you so you were face to face with him and against the nocturnal landscape of city lights
'Yes, it's better now!'
His grin would be impossibly huge, his chuckles eventually missing with yours as you would try to lean forward and steal a kiss from his lips
After the second time you did that, you decided to keep a couple of pillows and blankets in the back of the car
He will always be the one to drive - there's no point in arguing about that
'You do know I'm not a Sunday driver!'
'It's a male instinct, darling! You know, like the primal need to hunt down a bear, cook it and serve it to you!'
If you fall asleep in the passenger seat, he'll carry you inside and tuck you in against his naked torso, pulling you as close as possible to him
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Sin Darme Cuenta Yo (Sueño contigo)
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Hi guys!
This gif of Ona god, it's my weakness *Insert crying emoji here*
This was a request in the comment section of the first part, that you can find here.
Enjoy!
TW : Mention of Smut
_____________________________________________________________
Being in love with Ona is easy. She’s the nicest, most honest, most endearing person you’ve ever met. Not to mention that she is arguably the most beautiful woman in the world.
Your relationship with her is rather strange, no doubt. You’ve known her since you were teen, and you don’t remember a day you haven’t been in love with her since. Her parents know you perfectly and treat you like their third child. You were each other’s first kiss, your first mutual and you’ve never known anyone but her. You know it’s the same thing. Yet you have never been in a relationship officially and you have never had the courage to ask Ona why.
You don’t know what’s changed tonight and while you’re going home, you’re digging your head for a long time without finding it. You hope this isn’t a bad joke, but you have enough faith in Ona to know she would never do something like this to you.
The journey between Liverpool and Manchester normally takes less than an hour, but that was not counting the traffic jams in both cities. When you finally get out of the Uber, you travelled by bus with the rest of the team and didn't have your car, you refrain from running to the front door. However, you run down the stairs, clearly not having the patience to wait for the elevator to lazily descend the floors.
You need to work twice to open the door as your hands shake. Which amuses Ona a lot from inside the apartment. The brunette awaits you nervously on your sofa, the one you took so long to choose at Ikea. You had a lot of fun that day, almost leaving Ikea at the closing. But this is one of the many pleasant memories you have with Ona.
"Hola" she says softly when you finally enter inside.
"Hola" you answer, putting your bag next to the door.
Ona doesn't move, still leaning against the sofa.
And this is probably the first time you’ve seen her look at you with a shy look. Usually, you’re the shy one.
"So… Girlfriend?"
"Yes… If you want to" says Ona with a smile.
You smile when you hear her tell you what she said earlier on the phone and take a few steps in her direction. Ona observes you doing it, always without sketching the slightest gesture.
"All I want right now is kissing you"
You cite yourself too, but it seems to amuse Ona more than anything else. You will probably never tire of her smile, nor of everything that characterizes her. It is not for nothing that after ten years you are here today.
"Please do"
You’re clearly not going to be begged, nor do you remember a single time when you refused her a kiss or a hug. Nor what sometimes followed in the bed of either.
Breaking the remaining distance between you, you gently sit on her lap, sliding both hands on her neck. Your eyes intersect a few seconds before you put your lips on hers. The sensations you get from kissing her are not new, but the meaning of this kiss adds magic to your embrace.
It's only a few hours later that you speak next time, or at least that you have a sustained conversation. You both are lying in Ona's the bed, and you lie on her too. Your face resting on her chest allows you to hear her heart beat and her fingers that slip mechanically along your spine will probably soon make you drowsy.
But the questions you were asking yourself when you came home came back to mind. A simple glance at Ona tells you that her eyes are open, fixed on the ceiling, and that she is lost in her thoughts.
"Oni" you gently call her, immediately drawing her gaze on you.
"Si Amor?"
"What are you thinking about?"
Seeing her hesitate to respond to you causes a strange and unpleasant sensation in your stomach. Your emotions must be visible since Ona hurries to reassure you. "No, nothing like that. I just wonder why I waited so long. It could have been too late." "Too late?" you ask with a frown. "Haven’t you noticed how your new teammate looks at you?" She sighs softly as she rolls her eyes. On your side you are content to look at her, the eyebrows always a little frowned. No, you didn’t notice, but the question she just asked you might explain why she’s having trouble with her. "Watching her with you during the game... that was the last straw. I figured if she was acting like that with you on a football field in front of thousands of people, it would be even worse when there’s hardly anyone else with you." "Ona..." "Let me finish" To support her words, she puts her index finger on your lips, making you bow an amused eyebrow. "I’ve always been jealous of her, but I couldn’t blame you for anything. It was the first time I realized I could lose you. Which is stupid. You could have left anytime."
To free you from her finger left on your lips, you bite it gently, making her laugh softly. "Of course not, I couldn’t leave, idiota. I’ve been in love with you since day one. No one could ever change that. I’ve been yours all along." A few seconds later, you find yourself lying under Ona, her lips on yours for a passionate kiss. You could have doubted the sincerity of her behavior with you, but this kind of moments between you have always confort you in your choices. And today is proof that you were right to wait for her. "I love you too. So much" will succeed in pronouncing Ona between two kisses. And what more could you ask for? The woman you’ve always loved loves you back and is ready to show it to the rest of the world.
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starseeeed · 7 months
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precipice
kitty cat says meow!
wrote something on a03, and i'm postin her here cuz i like the duality (cue sunglasses emoji)
synopsis: levi is ur roomie and ur horny. boom. no character description, purely reader insert. : )
The air outside on a Saturday afternoon is hot and sticky, sun beating down causing a bead of sweat to trickle down your temple. You shut the door with a huff, the same newfound sense of relief as the AC cools your cheeks.
Stomping down the tile hallway, you drop the brown, paper bag onto the kitchen island, reaching up to wipe your brow in one fluid motion.
A sigh leaves you. Not only because of the humidity and pure heat in August, but because of the unshakeable twitch in your gut that simply won’t fade.
All of your laundry is washed, folded, and put away. Dishes scrubbed and dried to perfection. Room vacuumed, sheets anew. You even dusted your blinds. And finally, three painstakingly boring orgasms later did you go get groceries. In your prettiest, sage green sundress. Music blasting from your car to your wireless headphones, twirling about in Trader Joes as you pick up both you and your roommate’s favorite snacks, eyelids twinkling with glitter.
And yet that throbbing tick in your gut won’t leave.
You might as well be a bear, with all of the itch but no good tree in sight to scratch it.
Dating apps are boring, all of your hookups’ phone numbers in the garbage (even the good ones, too). Your vibrator’s highest setting can’t settle you.
The contemplation of taking a risk for a potentially good fuck on Bumble, or Tinder, maybe even Hinge plays on your mind. But the boys are so boring. So abrupt. Annoying. There is nothing to them that relieves that itch in the slightest through the screen of your phone.
And you don’t plan on taking an risks anytime soon.
So your favorite juice, favorite frozen meal (yes, the TJ’s version of Bagel Bites) and a pint of banana pudding ice cream with chocolate sauce on the side to drizzle onto each layer while you watch Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift is your only option left.
The dress stays on. If you’re going to be sexually frustrated while eating and watching the most unrelated sequel, you might as well look like a fairy while doing it.
One can of sparkling seltzer, an opened and displayed plate of off brand Bagel Bites, and one spoon, banana pudding ice cream, and chocolate sauce on the side later, and you’re curled up on the couch. Lights dimmed, curtains closed from the sunset, and blanket wrapped tightly around you, the screen plays. It’s bright in your face, loud and bouncing from the surround sound system as you shove the first circle of cheese and sauce into your mouth.
“Don’t get any crumbs on the couch.”
Your neck twists towards the kitchen, one of your cheeks full of yet to be chewed baby pizza, eyes wide.
Levi’s face twists at the sight.
“Hey hey.”
His lip curls ever so slightly as you greet him through your mouth full of whatever the fuck you’re eating. You cheese at him sheepishly after you swallow.
Levi, your roommate, takes a cautionary step forward, looking at your setup.
Levi, your roommate.
Technically, you’re his roommate. It’s his apartment, you simply signed the lease agreement and funnel expenses his way so long you have a play to eat, shit, sleep, and lounge about in.
The two of you don’t chat much, albeit for simple small talk, confused, disgusted glances shot back and forth (as in he makes weird faces when you do you things), or on the rare occasion, sit and watch a few movies on the weekends.
Based on the way he’s in those pair of sweats, that black t-shirt, and sits on the other end of the sectional, tonight is one of those rare nights. And you might not be so mad about it if it wasn’t for the way the fringe of his hair falls just above his brow, how his undercut is newly faded, or how the tight, dark fabric clings to his chest- not soothing your escapism attempt in the slightest.
He looks you up and down, eyes hard and focused. You pretend it’s because you look pretty and not because you know he sees the small speck of processed pizza dough on his charcoal grey couch.
Even though you know the truth, a shiver kisses your spine nonetheless. You welcome it, praying it’ll soothe that ache in your gut, between your legs.
It doesn’t.
“Again?” He asks, motioning to the movie playing upon the screen. A shrug is thrown his way, chewing another baby pizza angrily and swallowing it with fervor. His voice is so gruff, but so soft and smooth. The way it makes your thighs clench has you wanting to wring his throat.
You hum, taking a sip of the seltzer that has way too much bubble in it.
“Unless you want to watch a cringe compilation?”
His silence says it all. No.
Sinking into a comfortable silence, Levi watches the movie with that same, bored complexion while you gobble the rest of your rip off Bagel Bites and gulp your little seltzer. Left is the banana pudding ice cream, you always save the best for last.
You uncap it, drizzling a copious amount of chocolate sauce on top before taking a spoonful and shoving that into your mouth, too. Mouthful after mouthful, you fail to notice the furrow in your brows, the redness in the apples of your cheeks as you go through the layers of chocolate sauce and creamy, banana goodness. Not until you hear a scoff of a laugh from the end of the couch.
Shooting Levi a gaze, you mumble a little what through another spoonful of ice cream.
He shrugs in that nonchalant way, a ghost of a grin on his lips.
“Are you stressed, or just starving?”
A purse of your lips in contemplation, a sigh later, you nod. “A little stressed.” You say with a tiny shrug of indignation.
At the admission, he turns himself to you. And internally, you groan at the sight of the skin-tight material dangling the tightness of his abdomen at you, like a fish with a worm gorily stabbed and wrung onto a hook.
He’s waiting, he knows you. Well, not a lot, but Levi is a scarily perceptive person. Like that time you were crying in the kitchen and all his did was look at you, the phone in your hand, and wearing that pretty little dress before asking who exactly just canceled on you. Or that time when you mentioned your favorite color and he stoically described what type of person enjoys that color to a T.
“It’s nothing, really.” It’s not nothing. He knows that. You of all people inside of your body (hopefully it’s just one person) know that it’s nothing.
Levi hums in anticipation.
It sounds like silk. And you about reel your head back and slam it into the couch cushion because of the way it has your core kissing the nerves aligning and swirling between your legs.
Usually, you can ignore these little bites of attraction you feel for Levi. Or go cum to it and feel embarrassed enough to not look him in the face for the next couple of days.
But right now, your cheeks are heated and your toes are curling in your purple cow socks because of the way his gaze is pointed towards you, those little noises fluttering passed his lips.
The bass of the music masks your heartbeat and sharp intake of breath as he leans forward, angling himself towards you more. He’s five or so feet apart, but his stare rests on the prickles of your neck, as if he was blazing a trail of imaginary kisses there himself.
“Well.” Levi’s gaze follows the way your dart your own around the living room, causing you to let out a hot breath of air.
“You know when like,” your lips purse as you tiptoe, “you do something and it still doesn’t fix the problem?”
The bass booms, and Levi reaches towards the remote to mute it.
How can someone’s face be so bored yet so intense and aligned at the same time? His eyes are slanted, lips flat into a natural frown, and yet he is turned and tuned into you fully. It has a crackle of fire lighting in your stomach, and you physically shuffle to accommodate the feeling.
“Mhm.” He eggs, waiting. Levi is natural with power, morphing and holding such a thing on the tip of his finger. He sucks you in, wanting you to lean forward and just simply beg. Just beg.
You let out a shaky sigh, shooting him a glare you can hardly muster. Can’t he just figure it out? Why do you have to speak under his stare like that?
“Like,” you huff, frowning, “you try all the things to extinguish something but it’s still there?”
His brows furrow as he tries to decode your words, and you relish the way his lips dip and the small wrinkle on his forehead comes into light.
“Okay?” Levi says expectantly. He wants you to spell it out, to spit it out. It annoys you, but continues to ignite the electricity cackling in your core all the same.
With a little groan, you give him a look. His expression doesn’t change, letting the silence fall over the two of you.
The cars on the highway outside your apartment complex beep, honk, and skirt, the fridge hums and the AC blows into the living room. But the goosebumps aren’t from the cold air.
It wouldn’t be so hard to rant about it if it simply weren’t Levi. It would be like talking about your problem to the problem.
You say it anyway.
“It’s just been a minute.” Your voice is so soft it might as well have come from a mouse, the crumbs of cheese and bread on your plate much more interesting than the grey of Levi’s eyes had been just moments ago.
When you look up, you get to see his face change for the second time tonight (it’s a record, you think). His eyebrows are raised in the slightest, eyes widening a fraction as he puts two and two together.
Then he snorts, and your mouth gapes in mortification at the sound.
“You’re binging ice cream because you’re horny?”
After the bubble has been popped, you outwardly groan, letting the back of your head fall into the cushion of the couch.
“It sounds dumb when you say it like that.”
His scoff is his language for saying Well? It is dumb.
You wave your hand in dismissal, praying the warmness in your face and neck chill soon.
“Fuck off and unmute the movie.”
He does, and silence falls over the two of you once more.
Levi stands, and your stomach sinks.
After he walks away, you crush yourself into the couch as you let the rounds of gunfire on the speaker pummel into your brain in hopes that your humiliation will dissipate. Maybe he thinks you’re stupid and superficial now, all strung up on sex and orgasms and ice cream and-
Oh, fuck.
The seat of the couch dips, and your head boops against Levi’s godly sculpted shoulder.
Your head sharp shoots to him, but he’s staring at the screen as if his hips weren’t mushing next to yours.
Levi hates this movie. But his eyes are twinkling as he gazes forward, raising his arm and placing it atop the cushion behind your head. It tingles as the pads of his fingers barely brush across the top of your head.
The air is thick, confusion plastered to your face as your gaze settles upon the screen in synch with him.
You can’t breathe when you feel the matter in space dip, his facing leaning close to yours as he tilts himself to whisper into your ear.
By god, whoever created you, it’s been a year and a half living with this enigma and now you get to hear him whisper?
“Do you want some help?”
Want? Some?
You need to take whatever- all he gives you with a smile, a nod, and his dick down your throat in thanks.
The little nod isn’t enough for Levi, no.
“Hm?” It’s patronizing, the way he hums to you. He has to know you want it. That you’ve wanted it.
“Yes, please.” You preen, finding the strength to stare up at him with slanted, pleading eyes. They glimmer like stars in the bleak living room, you like to think. A perfect match for that pliant, barely visible pout on your face.
Levi nods once, satiated.
His other hand grabs ahold of your cheeks, turning your head to face back at the TV screen. He leans back, settling that hand down onto his thigh, letting his other arm resting atop the couch cushion come down and wrap around your shoulder, yanking you closer.
The little squeak doesn’t go unheard as your face mushes against the side of his chest, the fabric of your dress rising up on your thighs as Levi molds your body against his. You shuffle to adjust, resting against him with a newfound, booming heartbeat nestled into your core.
Once you settle, you hear the upturn of his lips as he murmurs, “There we go.”
Your nervous system might as well be singing your gut is clenching so hard from the subtle praise. How is he so calm right now? You guess because he has the upper hand. Part of you is psyched, that internal bet as to whether he was more controlling or pleading to be controlled working in your favor.
Perhaps he’s both. There isn’t an ounce of courage to muster within you to take the lead, though. It’s his game, you’re just a happy player following the rules.
A few heavy beats of your heart later, and his hand is sliding from his thigh to yours. Levi’s fingers toy and twiddle with the fabric of your dress, soft as silk as it weaves between his digits. They feel as though they’re planting kisses to your inner thighs, and you choke a breath with each teasing motion. The thumb that rests on your shoulder brushes against your bare skin, the gentle swipe having you on fire. You must be hot to the touch.
The sounds of heavy engines and ego cock fights resound on the screen, your cheek still mushed against Levi’s chest. You’re still, short circuiting at the revelation that he’s next to you, leaning against you, touching you.
Levi probably has a shit eating expression on his face. Maybe that’s what it takes for him to smile- a girl at his disposal to toy around with as he pleases while she sputters and warms beneath him like a freshly poured potion. You don’t look up at him, too afraid to shiver and soak the couch at the sight of such a face.
“You’re so quiet.” He observes, the pure smugness in his tone as you hitch a whine once his fingers stop toying with the hem of your dress and push his hand under it, searching for the lace lining your cotton panties.
His index finger hooks the outlining fabric at your inner thigh, running through it until he reaches the apex of a prominently damp spot on the crotch of your panties. You can’t contain the mewl that bubbles your throat as his finger taps it not once but twice, teasing the bundle of nerves.
“That’s why,” Levi muses. You want to bottle up the way his voice sounds and keep it on a jewel encrusted pedestal.
Your legs shift, parting in the slightest for him to do as pleases. The sage green material of your dress hikes up further, presenting your delicious inner thighs for Levi to ogle at. And naturally, you shift under his gaze.
Two of his fingers happily press down onto your clothed clit, meandering a slow, deliberate circle around it. And Jesus Christ, Gods above, the way you casually twitched at such an innocent touch has Levi barking a soft laugh.
He does it again, and a third time. Pressing down into the soft, damp fabric and tracing languid circles against your clit. And you mewl each time, on of your legs up and foot resting into the couch as the other one dangles off of the couch for his access.
Levi hums, content as you press yourself further into his chest. He’s practically caging you, reaching across to play with your clit through your panties. It’s all you need.
“You’re wet just like that, hm?”
The daydreaming, absent googly eyes and hearing his voice for the last year and a half was enough foreplay for you, so yeah, you’re going to get wet and cum just like that. By the baritone in his voice, he knows it, too.
“Yeah,” you whimper, moving your hips up to meet his fingers. Levi doesn’t have to play nice, you want to tell him. But when you do that, having the pads of his index and middle finger push further, press harder, against your clit, he knows that, too.
Another hum vibrates your ear that is intently listening to his steady heartbeat, a lullaby combined with his soothing, borderline scarily-accurate precision of touch, and he’s complying, pressing harder into the cotton fabric to give you a more pressured swirl.
You sigh, eyes hazy and dazed as you continue to fixate on the screen while pressure builds in your gut. It’s a scarily quick build, as if this were some sort of wet dream where a man touches you and you come undone just like that.
If you’re being real, Levi is a wet dream disguised as some stoic asshole who makes you get up at 7 in the morning to wipe down a coffee stain from the previous night.
But this isn’t a dream. This is your hot, broody and nonchalant roommate rubbing firm circles into your clit that preens beneath the fabric of your panties. Those panties. A soft cotton white with the cute, pink bow at the top. Levi likes them, you think, by the way he traces the lace hem with his eyes. You still don’t look at him, but his gaze is fixed from the corner of your eye.
It’s tantalizing, focused. You feel like a painting, Levi mixing the colors just right before slathering them onto an open canvas. There’s a feeling in your gut, just as your orgasm ripples through your gut, that this right now is just the base layer of oil paint.
Slightly damp, willing, ready, and made to be messed with and tweaked later.
“There you go,” he murmurs, the softest quirk of his lips showing that he sees your inner thighs twitching in just the slightest.
Your breaths are shaky, whimpers and mewling tumbling out into thin air as Levi brings you to the precipice of release, fingers rubbing gently against your clit to work you through your orgasm.
Pleasure seethes through you, feeling the sweet feeling bubbling and expanding through your nervous system. Your shoulders slump, cheek pressed and mushed against your roommate’s chest as you fall gracefully from your high.
A few moments later, Levi’s fingers pull back, letting them lay back on his clothed thigh.
“Better?” He asks, picking up the remote and turning up the volume. He’d turned it down, you guess. There’s no move to make you get up, so you nestle yourself there, eyes fluttered but mouth agape.
You can only nod. The soft vibration of his chuckle sounds has your cheeks glowing, heating once more.
“Yeah, better.”
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vigsilantes · 2 years
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i'm yours (adrian chase x reader)
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Pairing: Adrian Chase / Vigilante x Reader Request: “hey! can i request something with jealous adrian? plot and specifics are up to you, i just want something where someone else gets flirty or handsy with the reader and adrian gets jealous and protective.” Summary: You go to Fennel Fields after work one night to wait for Adrian to finish his shift and someone hits on you. A/N: i have sooo many other ideas for jealous!adrian, so this fic was just a start. expect many more jealous!adrian fics in the future lolz Word Count: 2.1k Tags: Established Relationship, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Jealousy, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Post-Canon, Reader-Insert, Comfort, Domestic Fluff Warnings: swearing, drinking
~masterlist~ | >>>(read on ao3)<<<
Work was abnormally slow for you tonight, like totally dead, you haven’t seen a customer for the last hour. Instead of wasting time doing nothing for the rest of your shift, your manager decided to be nice and let you off a bit early, and you weren’t complaining. After grabbing your bag from the back and locking up, you left, and headed straight for Fennel Fields. Adrian was closing tonight, so you texted him letting him know you were going to wait for him.
You: hey babe i’m off early and starvingggg i'm omw 2 FF
Ade: i’ll order ur usual so its ready faster:)
Ade: 🧜
It was a very short walk to Fennel Fields, literal minutes away, which you appreciated, but Adrian definitely appreciated it more knowing how close you were to each other, just in case. After replying to Adrian with a thumbs up emoji, you reached the restaurant, and from quickly skimming the crowd, it was pretty dead here too. You approached the hostess, Laura, who knew you through Adrian, and smiled. She was one of the few people here that was kind to Adrian, so you liked her, and she was always nice when you visited Adrian.
“Hey! Just waiting for Adrian,” you informed her, she nodded.
“No problem, it’s dead here,” she laughed, and motioned for you to pick a seat. Luckily, your usual booth was empty, so you headed straight for it. It had the perfect view to the back of the employees’ entrance, so you could always catch glimpses of Adrian when you were there, which is why it was your favorite seat. He loved you sitting there too, he always wanted to be able to keep an eye on you. After you sat down, you patiently waited for Adrian to come out of the back, and after seconds you spotted him. Once he met your gaze his eyes widened, and a smile grew on his face. He practically ran over to you, smiling like an idiot.
“Heyyy, buttercup!” he grinned, sounding happy to see you. You two have a vast assortment of nicknames for each other and Adrian never misses a chance to use them. He quickly bent down towards you to peck you on the lips, he was still on the clock, so he didn’t want to get in trouble. “I already put in your order; curly fries are on the way!” he wiggled his eyebrows.
“Thank youuu,” you beamed, “how’s your night been?” he scanned around the restaurant to check if his boss was near and saw no sign of him, so he sat down next to you in the booth for a moment.
“Super fucking dead, literally no one has been here, like at all, which is sorta nice because I haven’t had to do too much,” he stated, you nodded, and looked up to him. His little Fennel Fields hat was slightly crooked, so you pulled it down and straightened it out for him. “How was your day?” he asked, nudging your arm.
“It was quiet for me too… I loveee dead days though, saves me from a headache,” you laughed, and he shook his head in agreement. As you looked at Adrian, you spotted his boss out of the corner of your eye, you tapped his arm, “Manager, three o’clock,” you warned, and he practically flew out of the booth.
“Oh shit, thanks,” his face turned red, “Oh-uhh it’ll be a little bit till I’m off, you can take the car if you wa-”
“I’m fine waiting hun, I have my copy of The Stand, so take as long as you need,” you shifted, getting more comfortable in the booth. You two loved Stephen King novels, so you had quite the collection growing. Adrian just read The Stand and has been begging you nonstop to start it since he finished it.
“That’s actually my copy, but I guess you can read it,” he teased, you sarcastically rolled your eyes. “I’m kidding, babe, I’m happy you’re finally reading it! We can have a little book club to talk about it, and once you finish it, we can start the mini-series!” he fluttered, you smiled.
“Sounds good!” you tapped his hand, “now go back to work before I get you in trouble,” he nodded, and went to a table across the room to start cleaning. You opened the book to the first chapter and began reading, getting instantly hooked by it. The quiet chatter of other patrons in the restaurant made a peaceful background noise for you to read in. After reading a few pages, you heard footsteps near you, you lifted your head to see Adrian approaching your booth with your curly fries and a drink in his hands.
“Here you are, my love,” he placed the plate in front of you, followed by a Sprite, which you didn’t even ask for, but he anticipated that you’d want it, so he got it for you. He then bowed like you were royalty, you blushed. “Enjoy!” he quipped.
“You’re such a dork,” you said in between chuckles, “Thanks, Ade,” you smiled, and he left you alone so he could continue working. You poured a hefty amount of ketchup on your plate and began eating your fries while reading. You were captivated by the way Stephen King wrote, and this story was incredibly interesting: An apocalypse wiping out almost the whole population, leaving people to decide to be either good or evil – yeah, you were hooked. You flew through about twenty pages, and half of your fries, when someone suddenly sat next down to you. When you picked your head up you expected it to be Adrian, but it wasn’t, you didn’t know who this was.
“Ummm excuse you?” you questioned at the stranger, furrowing your brows.
“I just noticed yo-u sitting by yourself nd thought you could use a friend,” the man smirked. He was very clearly older than you and his breath reeked of booze. “Whatcha reading, hotstuff?” he peered, looking at your book. You backed away and dramatically closed your book.
“It’s my partner’s book, actually. He’s letting me borrow it,” you stated, hoping he’d get the hint. He didn’t, as he abruptly grabbed your wrist with a tight grip. He then lazily moved his hand to brush the hair out of your face, you tensed up, feeling uncomfortable as the drunk man stared you down.
“Whoever your partner is, I bet you’d be better off with me,” he spat, and slid in even closer to you. You scoffed, unable to get out of his grasp.
“Yeah right… Please, just leave,” you demanded, he squeezed your wrist tighter which made you uneasy. “My partner taught me self-defense and I am not afraid to fuck you up,” you declared, the man sneered. You looked around for Adrian, who was in his usual spot in the back unloading dishes. He caught your eye and turned to face you. He quickly analyzed the situation, seeing the man sitting in your seat and with his hand holding yours caused the expression on his face to change – he was pissed. He dropped the plate he was holding and swiftly ran to your booth.
“Uhh what the fuck is going on here?” he gritted through his teeth, looking at you dumbfounded, not fully understanding what he was seeing. 
“This asshole isn’t listening to me and won’t leave,” you informed him, his face dropped realizing what was happening, and he instantly grabbed the man’s hand and yanked it off of yours. Free from his grip you were able to hop out of the booth.
“Are you alright?” Adrian looked at you intently, “what the hell happened?” he asked as he began inspecting you to make sure you weren’t hurt.
“Yeah, I’m fine hun, this drunk asshole was hitting on me and wouldn’t go away,” you told him, he nodded and took in a deep breath. Adrian motioned for you to stand behind him, you listened.
“It’s time for you to leave, fuckface, they don’t want you here,” Adrian grumbled, his face was beet red and his eyes were on fire. “I don’t want you here,” his jaw tightened, and he straightened his body. The man cackled and looked at Adrian, he seemed ready for a fight and slowly made his way out of the booth. This prompted Adrian to tighten his fist, also readying for a fight. As the man stood up, he nearly fell, he was wasted, and had to steady himself by holding onto the table. After a mere second of eyeing Adrian, and noticing how Adrian towered over him, he lifted his arms up in surrender. It was clear that he was too drunk for a fight, and the anger that radiated off of Adrian definitely made him weary. Adrian didn’t falter though, as he followed every single movement the man made. The guy hastily backed away, tripping over himself multiple times, and you sarcastically waved as he left. Adrian blew out a deep sigh in relief and rested his hands on his hips.
“Fuck… Well, that was something,” you started, laughing nervously, “Thanks, honey, he just – wouldn’t let up,” you said as you sat back down in the booth, he followed and sat across from you.
“Course…” he scrunched his face, “y’know…” he began, taking a deep breath.
“What is it, Ade,” you raised your eyebrows and took his hand.
“Before I came over here I – I thought you actually wanted that guy with you, I didn’t- I thought you two were holding hands and I got like totally jealous, like, I wanted to rip his head off,” Adrian admitted, you were stunned, you couldn’t believe he’d think you’d be with someone else.
“Whattttt?” you questioned loudly, “I would never, Ade, seriously, he just fuckin’ sat down next to me, in my booth of all places, and started hitting on me,” you comforted him, he sighed with a smile on his face.
“See, I didn’t think so but- I don’t know, it just killed me to see someone else that close to you…” he trailed off, and looked at your hand, it was red from where the man grabbed it. Once he realized the man left a mark on you, his body tensed up. “I’m gonna fucking kill that guy tonight,” he murmured to you, not taking his eyes off your hand.
“No–” you huffed a laugh, “you don’t need to kill him, it’s fine-I’m fine,” you reassured him, and reached out your other hand to lift his head, he met your gaze. That confirmation calmed him down and he nodded, you could see him start to relax. "There are actual criminals that you can kill, babe," you said.
"Well, instead of killing him what if I just cut his hand off for touching you, could you settle for that?" he purred, half joking, but you could hear in his voice that he was being serious. He would go outside right now and chop this guy's hand off in a second if you told him to. You were infatuated by the way that he got so protective over you... It was hot.
"Why don't you save your energy for something else," you changed the subject and bit your lip, staring him down. He then scooted down the booth to sit beside you, sliding his arm around your shoulder. He nuzzled his head into your neck, clearly not caring that he was still at work and not caring if his coworkers or manager saw – he just wanted to be close to you.
“You’re mine,” he whispered into your ear with his voice deep. He moved his head lower down your neck and his lips gingerly hovered over you, he slowly began sucking, he was marking you.
“I’m yours,” you breathed out, feeling electric from his mouth on your skin. After a minute that went by way too fast, he slowly inched away, closely observing the mark he just left on your neck. After confirming it was good enough for his liking, he separated from you and licked his lips.
“You are somethin’ else, Chase,” you teased, your face red from what just happened, he smirked. “We’ll be continuing this when we get home–,” you stated as you looked down at your phone to check the time, “in about twenty minutes or so,” you winked, his eyes grew wide and his cheeks were rosy. He jumped out of the booth and adjusted himself, pushing his glasses up on his face.
“Well- I, uh,” he gulped, “I better…Yes, I want to-when we get home, and-” he stammered, you had him speechless. “Yes.” He abruptly shouted, you chuckled, and he promptly turned around and walked to the back of the restaurant. Through the back entrance you watched Adrian haphazardly wash dishes so he could clock out faster. You couldn’t help but smile, and as he looked over at you, he smiled too. His face was painted a deep shade of pink and he had a painfully charming grin spread across his face, it made your heart flutter with joy.
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taylortut · 1 year
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*insert eyes emoji* FMA fanfic? What about...Edward with a really high fever that he doesn't notice (b/c homebody ignores his body) on a mission with Mustang neither of them want to be on.
i asked for this prmompt like months ago sorry it took so long it's 6K words it really got away from me no one look at me
Ed flops onto the hotel bed, his back and neck aching from the long trip. The train ride had felt like days, though it was really only hours long, in no small part because of the company with whom he’d shared a seat. 
“Fullmetal,” Roy calls, his voice pinched from the strain of dragging their luggage behind him, “I told you to wait for me. Do you want to get separated already?” 
“That’s the dream,” he mutters. He finds a wry joy in the sound of his superior officer struggling with and finally giving up upon their bags. 
“What was that?” 
Ed rolls his eyes. “Nothing. I thought you wanted to look like a father and son. A good dad would carry the luggage.” 
Roy doesn’t think that sounds quite right, given that Ed is almost 16 and packed light, anyway, but he doesn’t push it. If he’s being honest, he’s grateful for how easy this has been so far and doesn’t want to upset the balance. When the Fuehrer had assigned him to this mission with Ed, claiming that going undercover was the best way to take down the cunning rogue alchemist posing as a doctor in order to experiment on children, he’d been speechless. He’d tried to argue that any other State Alchemist from their team would be a better pick. Maes is the walking embodiment of a father. Breda has a better relationship with Ed. Even Riza, who can be a little, for lack of a better word, impersonal, has a soft spot for the Elrics that would show through in an organic way. 
“You’ve known the kid the longest. Not to mention, we’re using him as, essentially, bait, here. If we’re going to do something that dangerous, I want my highest officer to be the one overseeing the operation.” That had been the end of the discussion, at least until he’d had to rehash the entire thing with a very unhappy Edward. That conversation hadn’t been nearly as calm. There had been a lot of shouting, a lot of cursing, and several pieces of office furniture that had gone flying. 
Honestly, considering this is Ed, it could have been worse, all things considered. 
Given how badly neither of them wanted to be here, Roy had expected Ed to make the train ride as miserable as possible, but that hadn’t been the case. In fact, he’d been downright polite. While Roy had gone over the details of the mission, Ed didn’t interrupt once: not one snide comment, no whining or insults. He’d been a regular soldier. 
Immediately after he’d finished explaining, however, it became clear that Ed probably wasn’t listening at all. No wonder he’d been so polite. Just seconds after Roy finished talking, Ed’s eyes had fluttered shut and he’d fallen asleep. What Roy had mistaken for pensive pauses with his eyes closed and thoughtful nodding had more likely been an attempt to stay awake. 
When Ed beelines for the bed and sinks into it, Roy resists the urge to roll his eyes. Ed finds it difficult to leave Alfons, even for short missions but particularly for ones that are of unknown duration. Of course, given the nature of the problem, Roy hadn’t been able to give Ed a probable timeline when he’d asked for one. They could be gone as little as a day or two, if everything goes according to plan, but it could easily extend well beyond that. 
“Children’s lives are at stake, Fullmetal,” he regrets saying now when Ed had pressed the issue. “When seems like an appropriate time to give up? After three days? A week? Two?” 
Ed had frozen on his office sofa, saying nothing for the entire rest of the meeting. It’s no wonder that it doesn’t appear as though Ed had slept at all the night before.
The same train ride that had clearly drained Edward had made Roy antsy and hungry. “Let’s find somewhere to eat. I wouldn’t mind writing it off as a military expense, if you want to go somewhere nice.” 
“Not hungry.” With a deep breath through his nose, Roy reminds himself that he had expected Ed to make this difficult. A headache begins to bloom behind his eyes, but judging by the way Ed’s hand moves to massage at his temple with a pinched expression, he’s not the only one. 
“Fine. You can stay here and unpack. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow. I’ll be back soon.” 
When he returns an hour and a half later, it’s with a full stomach, a slight buzz from the two glasses of scotch he drank with dinner, and a bag containing two meat pies for Ed. He hadn’t been too sure what Ed likes to eat, but this seemed like a safe option. 
Opening the door to their shared hotel room, Roy is surprised to find Ed asleep in the same position he’d left him in almost two hours ago. The kid hadn’t even taken his shoes off. 
For a moment, he considers just leaving him there. After all, a sleeping Edward is a quiet Edward, and God knows he’ll take as much peace as he can get. However, if he lets Ed sleep much longer, the food will go cold, not to mention he’ll be up all night if his nap lasts too long. 
“Fullmetal,” he calls as gently as he can, which, considering he’s Roy Mustang, is none too gentle. Still, Ed doesn’t so much as twitch. Clearing his throat, he tries again, this time closer. “Fullmetal, come on. Get up. You’ve slept long enough.” 
It takes a light shaking of his shoulders to get him to finally come around, and when he does, Roy can see why he’d needed the sleep. His face is pale, allowing dark circles to be prominent under his eyes. He looks much older than 15. 
“Whad’ya want?” Ed slurs, voice scratchy with sleep. Roy tosses the bag of food in his lap, and he stares at it dumbly for a while. “What’s this?” 
“It’s food, Fullmetal. I’m sure you’re familiar.” 
For all his talk of wanting peace and quiet, Roy can also admit when he’s intentionally antagonizing his subordinate, and this is one of those times. However, Ed doesn’t take the bait. Instead, in a surprising gesture, he simply pushes the bag away gently to the other side of the bed before rolling over with a slight wince. Probably sore from the train, Roy thinks. Well, join the club. If he’s complaining about it at 15, he should try it at over 30. 
“It’s for you.” 
“I said I wasn’t hungry.” 
“Come on. You haven’t eaten all day. I know, because I’ve been with you.” 
He sighs. “My stomach hurts. I’ll try it later. Just let me sleep.” 
Roy hadn’t known that Ed was prone to motion sickness, but that was just another explanation for his weariness.
“At least change out of your clothes. You can’t be comfortable.” Ed doesn’t make any attempt to move, so Roy sighs and bends down to his suitcase, rummaging through until he finds pyjama pants and a black tank top, which he assumes are for sleeping. “Change. I’m going to have a shower, so please be decent by the time I’m finished.” 
To his credit, Ed does sit up at the command, wincing once more and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. Damn, he thinks, the kid must really be exhausted. How long had things been this bad? He hadn’t noticed anything strange when he’d informed him of the mission, nor yesterday when he’d been ordered to report to Mustang’s office to review the details of the case. 
The shower runs surprisingly hot, and Roy spends more time than strictly necessary under the stream, taking in the blessed heat of the water. As he washes away the stiffness of his neck and shoulders from the train ride, he once again runs through the details of the mission in his mind. The plan is simple enough, if both of them can commit. Hell, they don’t even need to pretend to like one another, so long as the father-son relationship is believable.
What Roy forgets to take into account is that when the Elrics are involved, nothing is ever easy. 
By the time he returns to the room, nearly half an hour has passed, and the only progress Ed has made into his request was to kick off his shoes and snuggle under the blankets. 
“I guess you win this one, kid,” Roy mutters to himself before settling into his own bed. It’s still pretty light outside, not to mention his head is buzzing with anticipation for tomorrow, so he decides to read for a bit before turning off the lamp and trying to find a comfortable position on the hard mattress beneath him. 
His sleep is interrupted several hours later by a sound, though Roy isn’t sure what it is at first. He sits up, immediately alert, and reaches to the bedside table for his spark gloves before the sound comes again—a small whine, followed by rustling sheets. Relief washes over him with such force that he finds the whole thing irritating and rolls his eyes. He’s about to go back to sleep, but another sound from Ed, this time sounding suspiciously like a whimper, keeps him from rolling over. 
“Fullmetal.” he stage whispers to no avail. Ed is twitching in his sleep now, his strained voice calling out for his brother, muttering apologies. It’s pathetic enough to be difficult to ignore, so Roy stands and makes his way to Ed’s bedside. He’s only just sat down on the edge of the bed when Ed shoots into a sitting position, eyes wide and terrified, his breath coming in such panicked gasps that he chokes on one and begins to cough. Once he’s started, it’s difficult to catch his breath, and Roy dares not touch him. 
“Fullmetal. Breathe; come on. Through your nose. It was just a nightmare.” 
“I know,” Ed tried to snap, his voice still too thin to carry any real heat. “And I know how to breathe, you bastard.” 
Roy nods, still sitting on the edge of the bed. He feels as though he should do something, say something, anything to soothe his subordinate, but nothing comes to mind. What would Hughs do?
“Do you… want to talk about it?” 
The look of utter confusion on Ed’s face is borderline insulting, as if asking were so out of character that he’s trying to assess whether this is even Roy. 
“I’m going back to sleep.” 
Well, no one can say he didn’t try. 
Ed does fall asleep, but it’s fitful, as the nightmares don’t appear to stop. He spends the entire night keeping Roy awake by fussing with his blankets, kicking them off and pulling them back on with annoying frequency. He’s been in active battlefields that weren’t as loud as the noise automail makes bouncing off a wooden bedframe. Once he’s finally asleep and the sound of rustling fabric dies down, Ed can’t seem to stay asleep for more than 45 minutes or an hour before waking again, hyperventilating and with panic in his eyes. After the first episode, Roy leaves him alone, but he can tell by the next morning that Ed is really feeling the effects of the lack of sleep. Roy slept through most of it, but he isn’t sure if Ed has gotten any restful sleep.  
He wants to comment, to express concern. He really does. What stops Roy from asking if he’d slept, from asking if he’s feeling alright, from mentioning that it seems like Ed has an awful lot of nightmares for a teenager and maybe he should consider talking about it to someone, isn’t a lack of concern, but the knowledge of how Edward will take it. Everything he says, even when it’s perfectly neutral, is spun out of control and painted in the worst light until he somehow seems like the villain. If he starts this with Ed now, first thing in the morning on the first real day of their mission, he’s going to ruin the tenuous grasp they’re maintaining on peace. 
Worst of all, he doesn’t believe any of that. In reality, Roy is avoiding asking after Ed because it’s more convenient to leave the issue alone. Ed consistently makes himself too sharp to hold, probably for fear of being dropped, and Roy feels as if he has no choice but to accept it. 
Though he knows Ed isn’t sleeping, Roy has to do a lot of convincing to get him up, and when he finally does make the effort, the pained wince from last night puckers his features once more. Leave it alone, he reminds himself. If Edward wants something known, he has no problem shouting his complaints from the rooftops. Asking about something he’s not telling is a recipe for disaster. 
Breakfast is equally disastrous, virtually a repeat of the night before. The meat pies remain on the night stand next to the bed, untouched, and this time, when Roy offers to buy breakfast for the two of them, Ed’s already pale face turns slightly green. 
“Come on, Fullmetal. You haven’t eaten in 24 hours. You’ll feel better if you do.” 
Ed places a tentative hand over his stomach, then shakes his head. “Worry about yourself. I’m not hungry.” For a long moment, Roy considers simply dragging Ed out of the hotel room under executive order and forcing him to sit through breakfast with the hopes that he’ll change his mind about food, but something in his gut tells him that’s not a good idea. Ed is notoriously always hungry. Roy has never seen him turn down a meal no matter how full he should be. If he’s opting out of a free breakfast, there must be a good reason. 
“What, may I ask, would you rather do instead?” 
Though Fullmetal by this point has been coaxed into getting dressed and ready for the day, he nevertheless flops right back down onto the now-made bed and shuts his eyes, then uses the pillow to shield them.
At this point, Roy is beginning to think that the exhaustion might be more than just a bit of lingering fatigue from the train. He’s sleeping like he gotten any rest for days, and it wouldn’t be the first time. Ed loses sleep for any myriad of reasons, from chasing leads on the Philosopher’s Stone to writing and rewriting shabby reports to keeping his brother, who cannot sleep anymore, company during stormy or otherwise difficult nights. However, because of the frequency of these events, Roy has learned that it’s best to leave well enough alone and not point it out. Ed gets pretty bent out of shape over the slightest display of concern, particularly from Roy. 
“You need to eat something. Come on. You’ll feel better after, I promise.” 
At least he can say that he had dragged Ed to the cafe down the lane with the best intentions. After a bit of unreciprocated flirting with the waitress, Roy sits down in a booth across from Ed and begins to look over the menu. Edward, predictably, does not. He sits instead, arms crossed, huddled into the corner of the booth for no reason and avoiding any and all attempts at conversation. 
“Do we need a few minutes, or are we ready to order?” the waitress, seemingly as eager to get customers out the door as Ed is to leave, asks, and Roy sets his menu down. 
“I’ll have a cup of black coffee and an omelet with mushrooms, cheese, and spinach.” 
She scrawls the order down on her paper and turns to Ed. “And for you, honey?” 
Surprisingly, Ed offers her a meek smile, a courtesy Roy didn’t think him capable of. “A glass of water, please.” 
She frowns. “Is that all? You’re sure?” 
Ed nods, and Roy can tell this woman has raised children based on her facial expression alone. “Okay. Let me know if either of you need anything else, alright?” 
Roy decides to ignore Edward’s temper tantrum. For as much trauma as the kid grew up with, he sure acts like a spoiled brat sometimes. Being too difficult to even bother arguing with might work on everyone else in the office, and even Roy himself on worse days, but this is not that day. 
“You’ve put off listening to the details of the case for too long, Fullmetal. We’re debriefing now.” 
He frowns. “I’m not putting anything off,” he nearly whines. “You really underestimate how much you talk.” Okay, that was definitely a whine. “You’ve explained it; we’re on the same page.” 
“Fine. If you’re so confident, walk me through it. What’s the plan?” 
Before Ed can reply, the waitress returns and sets Roy’s food on the table in front of him. Though Ed hadn’t ordered anything, she places a mug beside his glass of water. “It’s green tea,” she says, “with honey. It’s on the house. I hope it helps you feel a little better.” 
Because he’s a horrible, rude teenager, Ed simply mutters something under his breath, leaving Roy to thank her for her kind gesture. Now that someone else has pointed it out, the realization hits him full force—Ed is ill. What should have been obvious already fills him with dread. The kid’s pale face is covered with a slight sheen of sweat betraying the fact that hes’ shivering slightly in his seat, and that’s all noticeable without having watched him sleep through the past two days, appetite-less and sore. 
“How long have you been feeling sick?” 
Pointedly, Ed looks down at his tea. “Thought we were going over the mission.” 
“I have to assess whether you’re even well enough to go through with that.” 
“We’re checking me into a hospital.” 
“To bait a doctor who’s experimenting on children. You need to be able to take her down if you have the opportunity, and more than that, you need to be able to at the very least defend yourself.” He can see the argument before it even comes out of Ed’s mouth. “Safely. You need to be able to defend yourself safely. Performing alchemy while physically compromised is dangerous, and it shouldn’t be done if it can be avoided. You know that.” 
“Right. And you said yourself that children’s lives are at stake. I think I’d call that unavoidable.” 
Roy doesn’t point out that Ed is also a child because he knows the reaction he’ll get. It hadn’t been important to him when he was trying to get the kid to cooperate, so what right did he have to bring it up now?
“I know you love to create paperwork for me, but don’t make me write up an incident report this time. If you’re out of commission, I’ll call the Fuhrer and tell him we need a new plan.” 
It’s not a surprise when Ed nods and changes the subject, but Roy decides to let it go. 
By the time they’re sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, Roy suspects that Ed would have ended up here regardless of the mission at hand. Even as the nurse had brought the two of them back to a room, Ed had gotten dizzy and had to sit. Of course, he’d refused a wheelchair, and if he hadn’t been so pale and sweaty, Roy might have convinced himself that it was an act. However, the 39.5°C read on the thermometer the nurse had shoved, much to Ed’s dismay, was proof to the contrary. 
“Fullmetal, I really don’t think you’re up to this. I’m going to have to relieve you from this mission,” Roy whispers as soon as he’s sure that any medical professionals are out of earshot. Ed’s face falls. 
“I came all the way here, Mustang. I’m admitted. How else are you planning to take care of this?”
“I’ll have to come up with something. I admittedly don’t know, but this isn’t going to end well.” 
Ed’s headache visibly spikes in light of the stress. It’s worrying to see him so angry without breaking down a door or threatening a fight. 
“They’ll get the fever down and I’ll be fine. I don’t think we’re going to get a second chance, and even if we do, she’s on duty tonight. If we don’t get her tonight, she’s going to take another kid.” 
Roy sighs. He thinks about his options for so long that he considers not responding at all, but eventually, he pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation and scowls. 
“If the fever drops below 39°C, we’ll move forward with the plan. If it doesn’t, you have to accept that we can’t risk it. You’re too out of it; I can see it in your eyes.” 
To his surprise, Ed nods. “Guess I’d better get some sleep, then. You go see what you can find out about the layout of this place. Make sure we’re prepared for tonight.” 
Ed wakes up to a light being shined in his eyes by a middle-aged woman with greying black hair and a sickly sweet smile. 
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologizes. Ed scoffs. 
“What did you think was going to happen?” 
Her grin falters, somehow becoming more real in the process, more sinister. “Oh, I like you. I’m Dr. Miller. How are you feeling?” 
Ed looks around the room for Mustang and finds that he’s still gone—hopefully that simply means he hasn’t been sleeping long. “Where’s the—my dad?” 
“Oh, he’s been in and out of your room. Poor thing, he’s so worried he can’t sit still. My nurse told him to go get a cup of green tea downstairs to calm his nerves.” 
At least the Colonel is apparently pulling off the concerned parent role well enough to not draw any red flags. Ed wouldn’t have thought the guy had it in him. 
“That fever of yours has been stubborn. Fever reducers don’t seem to be touching it.” 
Her nurse, who he hadn’t even noticed had entered the room with the doctor, cooed sympathetically. “You must feel rough, huh?” 
Ed shakes his head, which makes it swim. “I’m fine. I just—what can we do to get it down as quick as possible?” 
Dr. Miller’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “I understand that you’re uncomfortable, but this takes time. We don’t control these things, you know. Why are you so concerned about getting it down so fast?” 
He can’t tell her that if the fever doesn’t come down, that Mustang will never let him help. If he can’t help, there was no reason to come at all, to leave Al alone, to have stuck this whole goddamn weekend out with his least favorite person. 
To Ed’s surprise, the lie comes quickly to his mind, bringing tears with it, which he convinces himself are to sell the story. “When my mother—she was sick, really sick. Her fevers kept spiking every day. I can’t go through—put him through that again.” 
He’s speaking of his brother, who’s gone to visit Winry while Ed is away. He’s having a great time, Ed can imagine, knowing nothing of the current circumstances. If he did, he’d panic the way he always does when Ed doesn’t feel well. Ed often feels as though his memories are stored in his body, but Al is proof that they go even deeper than that. 
“Ah, so that’s why your dad’s so worried,” the nurse sighs. 
“I don’t see any indication that what you have is anything more than the flu,” Dr. Miller says, her tone cold and lacking empathy. He’s overreacting, though not for the reasons she thinks, and she wants him to know it. “However, if you really would feel more comfortable with the fever gone, I have something we could try.” 
Without hesitation, Ed nods. 
It was a mistake. A horrible, terrible mistake, and he regretted it as soon as he stepped his first foot into the ice bath. Now, he’s been sitting in here for God knows how long, shivering so hard his muscles ache and his teeth hurt. Every few minutes, Dr. Miller rechecks his temperature and frowns, but there’s something sadistic in it. 
“That temperature is just so stubborn today,” she says. “A few more minutes, then.” 
He just needs to endure a few more minutes. Mustang doesn’t have to know that this is how they met his requirement, and as long as his temperature is down by nightfall, he won’t be kicked off the mission. This won’t all be for nothing. He won’t have to stare at the ceiling for the next month wondering how many more children were maimed or killed because he couldn’t push through a cold. 
“W-what’s my temperature?” he asks through chattering teeth, which earns him a hostile glare. 
“Which of us is the doctor? I’ll tell you when you’ve had enough.” She moves as if ready to shove him back into the bathtub if she needs to, but when he makes no move to get out, she relaxes. 
More and more time goes by. Each time the thermometer is shoved unceremoniously into his mouth, the more he’s afraid he’ll accidentally bite down on it and shatter the glass. He’s closing his eyes for longer and longer stretches of time, and he’s somehow nearly completely zoned out when he hears a familiar voice from the doorway. 
“What in the hell is going on in here?” 
Damn it, Mustang. He’s about to ruin everything. 
Dr. Miller doesn’t miss a beat. “His temperature spiked. We’ve been trying everything to get it down, haven’t we?” 
All Ed can do is nod despite that it isn’t true, because if he agrees, maybe she’ll let him out of the tub to dry off and settle under a blanket. 
No, shit, he can’t even do that. They’ve got work to do. 
And if the outrage in Roy’s eyes is anything to go by, he’s about to ruin the whole thing. 
“We’re leaving,” he says darkly, tearing the towel out of Dr. Miller’s hands, where she’d been taunting Ed with it for several minutes now. “Dry off. At this rate, you’re going to get pneumonia.” 
When Ed stands from the tub, however, despite the aching cold in his limbs and the heavy, freezing exhaustion that clings to his bones, he feels less lightheaded than before. 
“I actually think my fever’s down,” he mutters, somewhat shocked.  Logic dictates that it makes sense, but there was still some part of him that would have thought his body would ramp his temperature higher just to make up the difference. 
“I’m sure it is,” Mustang bites, “since you're half frozen.” 
“The automail,” Dr. Miller cuts in before Roy can usher him out of here and back toward the hospital room. “I’ve seen some like it, but never around these parts.” 
Ed freezes, horrified momentarily that she’s figured them out, but Roy intervenes. 
“He had it done in Resembool when he was a kid.” 
“Is it taxing on him? Does it hurt?” 
Roy had never asked. Now that he thinks about it, Ed is always late with his report. After every single mission. He’s sluggish in the winter and slow in the summer. The longer he has to sit on the train, the later his report is. He’d wondered before why he never just wrote the damn thing on the ride home, but maybe he did. Maybe he just didn’t walk it to headquarters. 
That’s a conversation to have later, for sure. 
“Shouldn’t you know that?”
Dr. Miller hesitates, then simply smiles. “Yes, I suppose I should do some more reading on the subject. Anyway, you may go back to your room. I’ll have the nurse see you there.” 
As soon as they’re left alone, Roy turns gravely toward the window. “I feel responsible.”
Ed frowns. “What? For what?” His teeth are still chattering. 
“You’re under my supervision, both as my subordinate and as someone who is acting as your guardian here. I signed you into this place knowing that she would be in charge of your care, and she harmed you. I should have been here.” 
“And what would you have done? Given everything away by stopping her?” 
“Well, no, I—” 
“Nothing. Look, it’s over. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
Truth be told, the cold bath had done him no favors. More than anything, he wants a nap—it had zapped his energy. However, he knows better than to ask for something like that. 
“You look exhausted.” A warm hand finds its way to Ed’s forehead, and when he looks up, there’s no trace of mockery in Roy’s face. “Down for now, but I know it’s going to spike. There’s no way it won’t after that stunt she pulled. Why don’t you get some rest?” 
“Oh. Sure.” 
“I’m standing watch this time. I promise nothing will happen to you.” 
“I wasn’t worried.” 
“I am.” 
Instead of answering, Ed shuts his eyes and allows exhaustion to overtake him.
Hours later, Ed wakes to an empty room once again, feeling fuzzy and hot. 
“Roy?” he calls, unable to remember their cover; unable to think straight. He needs help. He needs someone to call his brother. He needs—
Oh, shit. Roy’s coat is gone. That means he’s not just peeing or getting a snack; he’s doing this. The mission. Without him.
Well, not on Ed’s watch. 
He drags himself to his elbows, slowing down when everything spins around him, then to his feet. He feels as if he’s on a boat, the gentle swaying of someone who should really be staying in bed. The blankets cling to his legs, half entangled and half with sweat. 
Dizzy. Hot and cold. Clammy and damp and needing a change of clothes and shaky and weak and not making nearly enough money to be dealing with this crap. Roy had better request a hell of a bonus payout for this one. 
Ed staggers down the hall, finding his balance only against the side of the wall. 
And there, upon the floor, is a gun. Roy’s, or Dr. Miller’s? If his eyes would focus, he could probably tell if it was military property, but they won’t, and he can’t. 
He takes the safe route and assumes it belongs to his superior, picks it up off the ground, and rounds the corner. 
As soon as  he does, he realizes that it was, in fact, Roy’s gun, because Dr. Miller has her back to him, her own gun against the back of Roy’s neck. Roy’s eyes, cool but with that underlying fear that Ed wouldn’t even be able to clock if he didn’t know him so well. Riza would have been able to spot it even faster, and not only that, she’d know what to do. She’d have known what to do before they even got this far. Why isn’t she here?
Roy doesn’t look at Ed, which is a good thing, because it would have given away his position, which was uniquely perfect to be able to take a well-aimed shot and end this all in one go. 
If only he could see straight. 
Ed takes aim. He looks down the barrel of the gun, both the metal and the target wobbly in his vision, whispers a prayer under his breath, and pulls the trigger. 
“Damn it!” Dr. Miller cries, letting out a long stream of curses as she clutches a now-bleeding arm. Roy had only barely had time to dodge before the bullet whizzed past his head, grazing his cheek. 
“Fullmetal! There’s a reason I left you behind! Fall back!” 
But he can’t, because Dr. Miller is raising her gun at him. She takes a shot at his hand, and the bullet blows a hole through the glove, exposing the metal underneath. The doctor grunts in both surprise and frustration, but by now, Roy has had time to get off the floor and tackle her to the ground. 
“Fall! Back!” he shouts against the strain of fighting her. 
He shoots again, this time missing her entirely. The force of the recoil sets his head spinning even more than it already was. Staggering to one side, he catches himself against the wall and raises the gun, willing his focus and his aim. This time, he squeezes his eyes shut and hopes against hope that he’ll hit.
And he does. 
When he opens his eyes again, Roy is pushing her limp body off himself and rushing toward Ed, shouting something he can’t quite make out. He reaches him right as Ed’s legs give out and he collapses into the darkness. 
When he wakes up, Riza and Al are there. 
Apparently, he somehow made it back to the hotel room. There’s a damp cloth on his forehead, which falls to his chest as he sits up. 
“Brother!” Al practically shouts, causing Ed to wince against a sharp pain in his head. “You’re awake! How are you feeling?”
“Al? What happened? Where’s Colonel Bastard? The mission…?”
“The Colonel is downstairs flagging down the car to take you to the hospital in Central. When you fell too ill to carry out the mission, he called Headquarters for backup. Unfortunately, the call was overheard, and Dr. Miller attacked him. That’s when you woke up.”
“I did? I barely remember…” 
“That makes sense. You were unresponsive when we got to you.”
His sluggish mind struggles to keep up, but the one part he did fully understand, he resents. “I’m fine now. I don’t need a hospital.”
“Brother!”
“You’re still running a high fever. The adrenaline got you through the fight, but the exertion took its toll. We wouldn’t be forcing it on you if it weren’t necessary—we know you’d rather just get home and rest. Luckily, the military doctors are a little more trustworthy than the ones here.”
The door creaks open, and Roy enters quietly, then more casually when he sees that Ed’s awake. “Fullmetal. How are you feeling?” 
“Shitty.” He gestures to the bandaged cut on Roy’s face. “I got you with the gun, right? I remember that part.” 
“Please, it’s just a scratch. Barely that. Nothing compared to the trouble you got yourself in with the stupid stunt you pulled.” 
“Stunt that saved your ass.” 
‘Yeah, yeah. I’m grateful, but I’m angry. I want to know what went through that thick head of yours, but I’m sure I’ll read all about it in your report.”
Ed balked. “Report?! You smug bastard! I’m not writing you a damn report!” 
“Rest up, Fullmetal. Glad to see you pulled through.” 
While Al and Riza calmed down the firestorm that Roy had ignited, he stepped away, smiling in secret relief that Ed was alright. What he wasn’t admitting was how fearful he’d been when he’d seen Ed round  the corner to face him and the doctor, nor the terror he’d felt when the battle had ended and Ed had collapsed. The fever had been higher than it had been the entire mission, and he’d been scared that Ed had pushed himself so far that he wouldn’t make it out of this. 
Hey, kids are resilient, and the Elric children especially. He finds himself always giving Ed either not enough credit or far too much, either a child or a soldier. 
Backup had arrived soon after Ed had passed out, and Al had been able to carry Ed back to his room without alerting any of the staff before military personnel could take control of the scene. Roy hadn’t left his side except to get towels for his fever and to order the military escort back to Central until Ed had woken up. Though he’d deny it if accused, he had been worried sick about the kid since the moment he’d found out he was feeling ill, even if he never could have guessed everything that would happen. 
And he’s serious about the report. 
66 notes · View notes
butterfluffy · 2 years
Note
Congratulations Sissy... Really love the new Event... can I request Marco the x fem reader by 🌷 this emoji Prompt:::: thank and congratulations!! Love you and ur writings::
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“we do look good together, yoi”
⠀⠀ੈ♡˳· looking at you and to himself, marco realized, you two do look good together—not only as partners in crime, but as lovers too.
⠀⠀➧ prompt: (🌷 | “we look good together, don't we?”)
⠀⠀➧ r. fluff | marco × f!reader | oneshot
⠀⠀➧ requests are closed until further notice!
⠀⠀➧ warnings — none! mistakes and swearing may be present though.. so do ignore them, thanks!
⠀⠀꒰ 🍨 ꒱ notes: welcome to “i'm in love with you!” confession event made to celebrate this account reaching 300+ followers! visit it to see my other works on this special!
reqested by: @kazenomegaminowanpisu — yes, you and marco definitely look good together. 👁️👁️✨
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A loud laughter escaped your lips as soon as you managed to snatch a bag of gold by some scammer who immediately shouted curses at you and your partner in crime, Marco who turned into his phoenix form for you to ride on, soaring the skies, going back to Moby Dick.
“Hahaha! That guy's dumb for displaying his precious gold on sight, right, Marco?” You snicker, holding tight on the phoenix who nodded, stiffling a laughter as he descends the sky to the ship that waited for your arrival...
“Pops, we're back with gold!” You announced, holding the bag up for public view as Marco went back to his human form, standing behind you with a smile, resting his hand on your shoulder.
“Gurararara! That's good, my dear daughter, and son! You two are really one of the best partners here in our crew!” The old man laughs, taking the gold you gave him and setting it down with all the other treasures.
“That's right, pops. We're the best partners in here.” Marco hums, locking your neck with his arm, pulling you closer to him.
“Yeah, yeah! Plus, we look good together too, don't we, Marco~?” You cooed, wiggling your brows at the blond male who rolled his eyes, a smile forming on his face.
“Oh c'mon! Not this shit again..!” Whined Thatch, falling down the floor on his knees, sending you two a teary glare. “I had enough of you two being all sweet like that, y'know what, just—DATE ALREADY, DAMN IT!”
Hearing the brunette man's screech, you and Marco looked at each other blankly before chuckling.
“Should we, my dear pineapple, Marco?” You muttered, pretending to think, only causing the rest of the crew to whine along with Thatch.
“I don't know. What do you think, pops?” Crossing his arms, Marco gave you a side eye, holding his laughter in as you held his arms, waiting for the emperor to give an answer.
“Mhm, yeah, you two should get together already, since it's been a long while since we last had a couple here in Moby Dick.” Whitebeard says with a smirk, approving your relationship with the first division captain.
“RIGHT RIGHT! I'm tired of the slow burn romance with you two, so just date, wait, no! Get married!!” Thatch exclaims, rummaging through the treasure pile and taking two rings, tossing it to the both of you.
“Haha, alright, we'll do it. Since we do look good together, yoi..” Grinned Marco, inserting the ring on your finger just as you did with his, before sharing a kiss with you, sealing your love.
“Love you, phoenix.” You whispered, embracing your now lover, Marco as cheers surfaced, congratulating the newly built relationship.. “I love you too..”
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© butterfluffy 2022
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ramayantika · 2 years
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Train to Vrindavan
Here's the first chapter of Krishna x reader fic which you all wanted to read. Reader is named as Bhaishmi here because each time i keep (y/n) i read everything as 'y/n' but you can insert your own name here if you want or read it as Bhaishmi.
Chapter-1
I took a deep breath in and looked at my surroundings. There was a huge rush on the platform. My cousins were accompanying me on a trip to Vrindavan to celebrate Holi. Luckily, our school finals were over before Holi, and we wanted to go out somewhere without our parents accompanying us. My cousin brother, Ranvit had suggested planning for Goa, which we had to cancel before we even went to our parents to ask for permission.
Why? Do you even need a reason? Which Indian family would allow their sixteen-year-old children to go to Goa? My sister, Bhumi, only a year younger than me, suggested going to Vrindavan to celebrate Holi. The various festivities would satiate Ranvit’s adventurous side, and our parents were more or less impressed by our decision to go to a sacred religious site at this age.
Bhumi and I had binge-watched many documentaries on the grand celebration of the festival at Vrindavan. We knew we could never get a YJHD Holi celebration ever in our lives, but we could get to experience Vraj ki holi! Ranvit initially was against it, but the idea of Lathmaar holi caught his interest and he agreed.
“The train shall arrive within the next ten minutes,” declared Bhumi, her eyes glued to her phone.
Ranvit snatched her phone in his hands and kept it in his pocket. “Now, young lady, you have been staring at the phone for quite some while. You will get it back once we board the train.”
Bhumi glared daggers at him and huffed. “Excuse me! I am the one arranging all this, so I need to be kept updated about the train status.”
I chuckled and waved my phone at her. “I have Ixigo too, Bhumi. So you don’t have to worry so much. Besides, we are sixteen! We won’t be lost and certainly will not miss our train.”
Ranvit muttered something under his breath, causing her to glare at him even more.
“Hand me my phone now!” She demanded.
“Can’t hear you. Speak a bit louder.” Ranvit liked to pester Bhumi too much. All brothers love doing that. But both the brother-sister duo loved each other as fiercely as they fought and troubled each other.
A loud whistle diverted their attention from their fight. Our train had arrived and would halt within the next two minutes. Ranvit gave back Bhumi’s phone and held his suitcase. Bhumi and I took hold of our belongings and walked ahead to find our compartment.
We easily found our assigned coach and berths. The three of us sat for a while and looked outside the window. I looked at the people outside. Vendors were selling their goods, children asking their parents for snacks, people with laptop bags and large suitcases.
My eyes drifted towards Bhumi who was on a call with her mother, my maasi, to inform her that we had comfortably boarded the train. I texted my mother the same, and she replied to me with the thumbs up emoji and ‘ok.’
Ranvit was seated on the side berth. He kept his suitcase below his seat and removed his shoes and stretched his legs on the seat. Bhumi and I had the lower and middle berth on the left side. I was waiting for Bhumi to end her call with maasi so we could keep our luggage together.
“Haan mummy, we won’t accept food from strangers. I will take Bhaishmi with me when I need to use the bathroom at night and also make sure that Ranvit doesn’t gobble all the aloo parathas. Okay?” Bhumi rolled her eyes at me while Ranvit and I shared amused looks with each other.
Ranvit shook his head and snatched the phone again. “Mummy, don’t worry. I am ending the call now. We will call back after we get there.”
Bhumi clapped her hands and looked at me. She exclaimed, excitement evident in her tone. “Oh my God! I can’t believe this. We are really travelling by ourselves!”
“Chal chal, let’s first keep our luggage aside and then we will pinch ourselves to check if this is a dream or not,” I said and moved my bag towards the window seat and placed my suitcase under my seat. Bhumi kept her luggage beside mine and sat on the opposite berth.
She looked at Ranvit who had his earphones plugged in, and his fingers busy texting someone. There was a small smile on his face, and we quickly understood who was behind his smile.
I stretched my arms and sighed. I was really out on a trip by myself with these two. I knew that we weren’t on some adventurous journey, but even this excited me. Covid took away two years from me. I wanted to enjoy every second of this trip before joining school for the new session.
“God, where did the two mischief mongers go? Weren’t they just behind you, Arjun?”
Tagging: @lil-stark @redirection04
(Well this is my first time writing a story. It may not be very good so please bear with me.)
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anyasathenaeum · 10 months
Note
Obviously one of the bandits knocked on the window to politely ask if they were OK and when reader flipped him off he got pissed and put them in the Naught Hostage Bag /j
On a realistic note, maybe the bandit gang had to hustle past the hospital and the reader, on impulse and unthinking, dipped out from their window to try and follow them and everything quickly goes wrong?
.......or it could be like that Vine idk anymore.
LOL THE FIRST ONE HAHAHA yup that's it that is exactly what happened, this one's on (Y/N) smh
Hmm, your theory's a really good one! I really like that idea, I can see reader trying to stop the bandits from going after Lina and getting wrapped up in it themselves, actually. Might have to use that... *insert that emoji of eyes looking sideways here* Do I have your permission to use this idea, Anon?
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harrelltut · 10 months
Text
eye found my 1946 HURRIAN empire [He] father's lost 1968 underground zenith [luz] ægiptian city of great grand mother SAIS ÆGIPT’s... GRAND CANYON of subterranean ægiptian archeological [sea] castles of moor [mu] golden 9 ether 1948 sky eco-telecom [set] networks crystallized deep inside the moon's interplanetary [mi = michael] oceanic SUN terrain of NIBIRU’s bioluminescent atlantis & intercontinental lemurian [BETELGEUSE] seafloor minerals from MERCURY's scientifically cataclysmic MOON Altitude of Radioactive SATURN [MARS] ENERGY [ME] RINGMAKERS [RAINMAKERS]… sinking old 1999 y2k 2000 america… since 2024 isis temple [s*it] 1921 majik already [ma] happened [mh] again [ma] in mayan’s 2012 cryptically poetic sky energy prophecy of sunken place 2023 america
IMMORTAL U.S. MILITARY KING SOLOMON-MICHAEL HARRELL, JR.™
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ommmmm
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ANU GOLDEN 9 ETHER [AGE] 5000 ATLANTIS RISING!!!
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we all seeing sky eye of atlantis [sea] royals in ancient america [original ægipt]
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ancient 9 ether sky hurrian sky peoples of atlantis [pa]
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from deep inside astrological saturn
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we golden 9 ether sky ringmakers [rainmakers] from astronomical saturn's tri solar black sun systems of ægiptian interplanetary [eye] moon universe [mu] planet rizq
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o mystial [om] mother [om] plane of extra telepathic [e.t.] hittite SUN queen tiye of hattuśa mu amurika [ma = atlantis]
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don't play video mind games with this highly official u.s. 1968 æncryption [house] deutsch gen x 9 ether him [michael] esoteric [me] okcult military [om] king [ok]... him [michael] shall control alt delete [cad] you at his inherited spiritual [his] godship will of extraterrestrial [we] warlord jehovah
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since eye know my ancient [sekhmet = khemet = kemet] 1968 9 ether subterranean military hittite [mh] earth [qi] language... enqi harrell naturally [nudimmud] bee anu golden [bag] 9 ether 2024 sky king of antediluvian [ka = kemet] 1921 mu amurika [ma = atlantis] 5000
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ancient 9 ether hittite archaeological [ha = harrell] hurrians of ægiptian [he] queen tiye's subterranean earth [qi] king of Luz Atlantis [L.A.]
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quantum dara™ write muur accurate [ma] ancient golden 9 ether [mage] motion history [mh] on earth [me] movies than the hollywood screen writers guild [insert evil evil laugh emoji]
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eye extraterrestrial 9 ether intelligent aluhum anunnaqi
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eye mercury [i'm] vortex generator embedded [g.e.] in anu golden 9 ether [age] power system @ QUANTUM HARRELL TECH LLC
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eye talk [e.t.] above your 2023 pay grade
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buckle up!!!
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eye atlantis rising in sunken place 2023 america
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ommmmm
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o my [om] golden [omg] 9 ether dna psychic rna sky queen calafia [ca]... 1968 gen x him [michael] esoteric [me] okcult military [om] king [ok] solomon hear you [hey]
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we ancient 9 ether sky ægiptian atlanteans [sea] underneath our old america [mu]
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us ancient [usa] golden 9 ether aluhum earth anunnaqi [qi] write better unseen sky [u.s.] atlantean [usa] mu movies than artificial income [a.i.] 2023 america [aia]
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we cataclysmically sinking sunken place 2023 america [atlantis] again
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sporesucker · 1 year
Text
the jerma fanbase and nin fanbase talk about their Silly Little Man(tm) in the exact same way. “aww the little skrimbloo, i want to observe him and watch him grow in his little pitri dish *insert big eye emojis*” “i want to put him in a ziploc bag and aggressively beat him with a hammer until hes nothing but mush *twidling fingers*” sickening /hj
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helpicant-stop · 1 year
Note
all of the ask emojis for c!hannah <3
omfg 😭 well alright strap in i guess
[send me character headcanon asks!]
🏳️‍🌈: sapphic aro (qpr ctinarose supremacy 🙏🙏)
🏳️‍⚧️: she's a #girl but like with a little extra flavour. spicy cisgender if you will (ie she uses nature-related neopronouns because she thinks they add to the aesthetic)
😇: standard twitch prime practitioner like most on the server, but she has more faith in the inherent laws of nature and fairy magic. also the egg but that was like a year ago people change man🙄 /j
🧸: in her early childhood she lived mostly in the forest with other fairies, but started spending most of her time in hypixel during her teenage years
👻: i don't think channah's outright afraid of many things (that she'd admit), but i also think she was scared of the egg returning after she finally broke free of the "possession" thing; it's an unexplained vaguely divine entity that goes againsf the laws of nature and makes everything around it rot and change colour, of course it'd be a bit intimidating
🎶: channah likes metal but like not the screamy kind like the operatic rock ballad kind, and she almost exclusively listens to women artists. also she's a big fan of 90s riot grrl
👽: carries a bag of rose seeds/sprouts wherever she goes, not just for personal strength and aesthetics but because rapidly growing rosevines make great distractions in a fight
💤: i think pre-egg she'd have mostly scent/touch/sound related dreams that are mostly just sensations or vague events, and sleep really soundly. during the eggpire she'd go days without sleep before dropping randomly and waking up hours later in another location. i think the only dreams she'd have then would be quiet whispering or distant shouts she couldn't quite hear properly. post-egg she can't quite fall asleep or wake up as easily anymore, and she doesn't even remember if she has dreams or not
🦾: blind with roses where her eyes should be, because nature fairies don't need eyes unless the thing they represent does. when she moved to the dream smp, an eye sprouted out of one of the flower petals and gave her sight on one side (because the laws of nature or something were different there bitch idk). it doesn't feel natural (?) and is prone to random phantom pains/sensations and honestly isn't that useful so she'd rather be without it.
during the egg, vines and leaves grew through her and replaced the flowers in her eyes with those little glowing red sprouts. i actually made an art about this (*cough cough* @yesican-stop *cough cough*)
💝: acts of service but as in she will be your number 1 apologist and defender and take you places. i also think she's very on gift giving and enjoys gifting flowers and pets (the latter only to people she think can take care of them)
🫂: i think she's extremely loyal to her friends which i think makes the red banquet betrayal such a Thing™ because like. you know she's far gone
💔: insert "hehehe yes... yes!!!!" sickos comic panel here. when she was infected, one of her biggest guilts was going against cpuffy, but she couldnt really ruminate or reflect on that at all because the egg would always cover up her thoughts with its own, and even after they made up they were never quite the same afterwards. ahaha fboy face emoji
🪢: she has no recalled family except for nature, her friends and tina, which to her is better than any related associations she could hypothetically have
📓: bit of projection here but i think she'd have several phases of learning several different fighting styles/martial arts and gettign moderately good at all of them before developing her own unique style. aside from that (projection 2 electric boogaloo) she also seems like the type to sculpt or sew or make dioramas or just create art in general, and i think a lot of it would be really emotional theme-wise tbh. also she organises all her stuff by colour and helps tina farm fungi at kinoko
👗: she'd definitely love to mix style with practicality, like i think she'd have miniskirts with shorts sewn on underneath so she could fight, and blouses that can be tied back with buttons so she can get her hands dirty. one thing that is not practical at all are her reproduction white 1960s gogo boots. nobody questions the reproduction white 1960s gogo boots.
she is also a big fan of natural tones but FUCKING HATES FLOWER PRINT because it's not even close to the real thing at ALL. she used to wear a lot of bright rose red, but the egg kind of spoiled that for her, so now all the red she wears is dark or muted. also all her outfits would be self made, 100% biodegradable and sustainable and usually have living plants integrated within the outfits
🔪: come on. you already know this one. channah pvp queen girlboss etc. ok but in all seriousness i think her fighting style would be very swift and graceful, and she'd talk a lot during fights, whether to herself or the opponent/s. during emotional fights especially she gets surprisingly better rather than slipping up. one of her mottos is "use words, until that doesn't work, then use violence"
🌟: i think prior to the smp most of her goals would be very short-term/impulsive/quick-passing without really thinking of the future or consequences. but now ?? dude she just wants to be happy and live a nice fun life with all her friends and probably do nature activism on the side. why is the dream smp so trauma girl /: girlphobic if you will ,,oh wait that's just misogyny isn't it 💀
🥇: at heart she's just a rose fairy and that's what she's best at. she can cultivate rosebushes so cool looking the gardeners at the queen of hearts' castle would CRY
🍫: she doesn't like sweets that much but would KILL for a well-made steak like srsly it's so hard to find nowadays everyone either overcooks the outside and undercooks the inside or overcooks the whole thing or adds bad seasoning but come on how hard can it be. she eats at mcpuffy's (but begrudgingly) because it's cheap and moderately average but las nevadas has better food, they're just too overpriced for her taste and she partially works there anyway so why would she need to in the first place
🎭: totally a casual liar, but she doesn't lie about anything severe *when she can*. but yeah she would tell a child that santa is real without flinching or tell someone she's working on the thing they asked her to work on when she's not
❤️‍🔥: she's aro and #Not Interested moving on (however if i ignore this and make it about qprs then she's totally super sappy with tina and more giggly around her than like bad or sam)
💄: she's made of soil and plants and roses grow out of and around her arms like climbing vines. also she wears makeup that she grinds out of plant dye and charcoal
🖕 (funnieat emoji choice ever btw): she gets more irritated than angry, but when she does get angry she Gets Angry™. she's the type of guy to utilise insults and threats really effectively before even fighting
😺: she's a "dog person" but is a fan of most animals anyway. her favourite amphibian is either an axolotl or salamander; her favourite reptile is snakes but specifically like the small 5-6 ft ones that can curl around your arms, and she prefers their natural morphs rather than the eye-catching artificially selected ones and can you tell i know way more about snakes than any other animal yet; her favourite bird is the lovebird because she likes their call and also thinks the fact that they come in pairs is adorable; her favourite mammal would probably be dogs or capybaras; her favourite fish would be a parrotfish and tbh idek why she just seems like she would and i don't know shit about fish; and her favourite invertebrate would be butterflies or any insect that disguises itself as another animal because she loves the ingenuity and the naturally formed patterns
😬: i think her betrayal and murder really hangs over her head, but she doesn't like being reminded about it (and anyway she considers it fine since she was literally possessed and couldn't do anything about it) so she chastises the people who do bring it up
😭: i think the inciting incident/first few weeks of the infection were the most hard-hitting because she'd feel physically bad all the time with seemingly no source and hallucinate sounds that didn't exist and get terrible intrusive thoughts. i think once it really started growing and getting a hold of her she just started getting numb to it
😶: she once ate a butterfly on accident and felt incredibly bad about it. also i think her wings had rose patterns on them like stained glass
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poltergeist-coffee · 5 months
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I love that the brazilians in the college au are like "do not separate or they will set the university on fire" BUT CELLBIT AND SLIME BEING THE PRESIDENT AND VICE PRESIDENT OF THE TTRP CLUB, LES GOOOOOOOO Pac and Mike are the local mad scientists I think both Bagi and Cellbit would do college to be a investigator or something, I don't quite know the exact thing but I think law sounds right Felps is doind Felps things I think people stoped wondering how he does the things he does and just accepted it as a Felps thing They have a dubious past you say? *insert eye emoji* I don't know if he actually does, but I will believe that Cellbit has a personal problem with the mascot(Cucurucho) as aways, not even for a actual reason he just hates him, until stated otherwise But yeah, feel free to talk as much as you want about this au(not just the brazilians, the others too) I will eat every word you write, Fantasminha I think they deserve to go through normal college shennanigans instead of trying to escape an prison island and look for their kids and friends(unless you have other things planned *insert another eye emoji*) How about Slime in this au? And his I won't swear but you know what I mean:) wife Oh, and the eggs? Are they a thing? I dunno, random children their found somewhere and just adopted anyway, I don't know why I think this is funny Or maybe another thing (Also, Maximus and Pierre broke up on lore??? THEY WERE DATING???? Oh yeah, and tiny Felps died Well, people said they weren't going to last 3 days R.i.p Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelpinho, you will be missed) - The only and one, Plate Anon, once again without emojis
GIGGLING IM GLAD YOU LIKE IT!!
Yea i also don't know what degree you'd need in college to be an investigator?? so criminal law seems pretty close and good enough for me lol (if cellbit has to go to prison again he will be his own lawyer and totally win the case) (if he's going to break laws he should know then first and then he can do it all legally you know :DD)
Felps is just like that and we all love him for who he is u-u it's simple really (his studio door is bright magenta like his twitch icon and he painted the face on the door too) (i am willing to bet the inside studio is also pink)
THAT WOULD BE SO FUNNY IF CELLBIT ALSO JUST HATES CUCURUCHO,,,, it looks creepy that's why he hates it. Jaiden on the other hand LOVES Cucurucho and thinks he's so cute. She keeps a little plush of one on her bag and Cellbit glares at it everytime Jaiden isn't looking
Jaiden and Roier ofc are also apart of this au :DD they're roommates of course and Jaiden is 100% willing to kill Cellbit for him. If Roier even looks sad a little sad she asks if Cellbit made him sad and starts to pull out her katana <33 no one messes with her best friend. She's an art major ofc and Roier is in Psychology!!
I don't think I ever figured out a major for Slime but Mariana (his bitch wife) is a film major minoring in music (singing!! he wants to be a singer!!). they are dating (ofc) but no one is allowed to say they are because they both get really weird about it... they can flirt with you but you can't flirt back with the because they'll accuse you of trying to ruin their relationship u-u i love them dearly and how they make each other 10% worse when around one another
I'm not sure if I want the eggs to be real kids or not >:// I think it would be cute though if Jaiden and Roier both have like a Bobby plushie (egg with overalls) that they both carry around. He goes with them everywhere and they basically treat him like their son lol
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Saturday, 8 April 2023:
Good Shave Baby Bird (no label, self released) (released in November 2022)
The UK is able to mail out of country once again (a ban was enforced in November just as this album was being released by Stephen Jones) which means this album finally lands in the US. 
Stephen Jones, the abbreviated version, mind you, is the man once upon a time known as Baby Bird (not to be confused with the band Babybird which was also Jones only with a band), a master of lo-fi and the Bedroom Sound.  From 1995 to 1997 he released self released five albums that were the pinnacle of lo-fi (discounting another master of lo-fi Guided By Voices who reigned prominent in the 90s for this record lover): I Was Born A Man, Bad Shave, Fatherhood, The Happiest Man In The World and Dying Happy. This was before the internet exploded and I bought at least two of these five lo-fi jewels through chat rooms for exorbitant prices. I paid $80 for Bad Shave to be shipped from Paris, France, wondering if I would actually see it arrive, after all Paypal didn’t exist and debit cards had not yet been birthed.  I sent a money order (I was King of the Money Orders in the 1990s) off in hopes it would pay off and of course, it did.  Before the internet, people didn’t rip you off and they followed through because a record collector was a record collector was a record collector (insert eye rolling whistling emoji here).
Today, the internet destroys lives and it enhances lives (see A Tale of Two Cities) and for Stephen Jones, he can actually almost make good money on the music he makes in his bedroom by going directly to those fans who love his music.  No longer relying on kind hearted collectors in Paris, France I can dial up Stephen on bandcamp, tell him what I want, send him the money through the magic of the modern world and presto chango it arrives in my mailbox!  What could be simpler?  For fans it is a heaven that actually exists, for musicians like Stephen it is a never ending job.  Not only must he write the music, record it, produce it and mix it (maybe) he must also design the damn digipaks, put them together, buy an endless supply of CD-Rs (and in some instances actual pressed silver CDs), have plenty of packing envelopes, go to the post office, mail this stuff (and spend a fortune on postage for the entire world, because he has a generous supply of fans worldwide).  For the likes of Mr Jones this is a never ending job.  Remember when you wanted to be a musician?  It sounded so perfect: make records, sell records, drink too much, drug to much, have too much sex and live in Heaven.  But the internet giveth and the internet taketh away.  Today’s musician must endlessly bust his tired exhausted imagination especially if he is a self contained industry like Stephen Jones is. 
And then he has fairweather fans such as myself who don’t buy everything he puts out.  And trust me, this guy never stops. He’s like a never sleeping shark, he must be glued to his social media and laptop.  He sends out 40 tweets/messages a day and he must put out an album a month.  In 50 years when virtually everyone reading this tumblr is dead and gone, who will tend to Stephen’s discography page?  How messed up and full of errors will it become?
Good Shave is a companion album to his 1995 Bad Shave album. The songs, according to our man, come from the same grab bag from which he chose to compile Bad Shave from: all demos, all lo-fi, all composed and performed and sung by himself.  No one else is reissuing these albums so Stephen might as well make his house payment and his daughter’s tuition however he can.  I do not begrudge the man one thin dime.  I just can’t buy everything he does.  (Today I counted 303 releases on his bandcamp page!  75 rows of four albums plus one row of three albums.  The man is a machine.)
Above you see the cover and the back cover.  Below, check out the gatefold taken in two shots.  The first shot is the left hand side of the digipak as it would appear when it is opened up.  The second photo is of the inlay tray on the right sans the CD which would normally sit in said inlay tray.
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The next photo is of the CD itself.  Keep in mind this is a CD-R which means in about a decade or less, if it is like my Dylan bootlegs that came out on CD-R, they will stop working and I’ll have nothing left but the memory of this music.  Isn’t modern life full of miracles?
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I am going to be on those people who foul up poor Stephen’s discog page because he included a bonus CD with Good Shave.  It is obviously not his work since the title is Not Stephen.  If I recall correctly, a fan made an album of covers and sent it to Stephen who liked it so much he included it as a bonus disc here.  At least I think that’s how the story goes. 
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Below you will find photos of the original Bad Shave album from the cover to the gatefold to the back.  Remember, this once lived in Paris, France, a place I can only dream of. 
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margumis · 1 year
Note
I just whipped this up in 10 minutes after reading about your paper and headache. You can only read this when your paper is done (or in good progress) (also, if you don't use mla then just insert whatever citing system you use ♡) - simp
Hawks didn't hear from you this morning. You were usually the one texting first. His nightly patrols were long and he passed out the second he hit the pillow when he came home. When he woke up he usually had a handful of messages from you, like a little broadcast about what your day would look like and how your morning went so far. He loved it.
Today there was nothing though and he worried, heart clenching a little because what if you were mad at him or what if something happened or--
(Y/N): hey, babe. Sorry. Have a paper do and a bad headache. Talk later.
Oh. He remembered now. You had procrastinated the thing for days. Keigo rolled out of bed and hit the shower. He could probably not help with the paper much, he wasn't nearly as smart and academically gifted as you but he could bring snack and emotional support.
He stopped by the convenient store and bought all your favorite snacks and comfort food, painkiller too, then headed to campus. He always entered your dorm room through the window but today he actually used the door for a change.
You took a moment to answer and when you amswered he could see how exhausted you were instantly. Your face twisted in a mix of happy and frustration.
"Kei," you breathed and he took you in his arms. The door clicking shut behind him.
"How's my smart, smart baby?" He patted your head and smiled, kissing the crown of your head.
"I'll drop out," you whined and took the bag from him, looking inside. Tears welled at your lash line seeing all your favorite things. "Thank you."
He blinked then laughed softly, "oh, baby. It's gonna be okay! I know you got this! Lemme read." Keigo grabbed your laptop and read over the paper. He didn't understand half of it, so many big words and he wasn't familiar with the topic but the thesis was compelling and that was that mattered. "This is good! Cmon. It's just a 2500 words paper. You are almost at the conclusion."
You stuffed one of the snacks he brought into your mouth and shook your head. "My head hurts so bad, I can't look at the screen anymore."
He thought for a second then scooped you up and laid you down. You knew you should protest... the deadline was today but your head was killing you. "Hawks--?" He got the laptop and sat down beside you.
He read your last paragraph out loud. "You tell me what to write and which source and quote to use. We're done in no time and then you can nap while I do the list of works cited... I still remember some MLA... or I just google... I'll probably google... I can do that... deadline is at 6, right? I wake you two hours before then you can read over it again?"
You blinked. "Really?" You had prepared the paper well and gathered all your quotes in a different document. This could work. It was all in your head already and just needed to be let out.
"Yeah," he smiled at you. "You always patch me up after hard patrols... now I can finally help you."
Your heart grew. His support meant everything and especially right now. "Okay;" you whispered, having to hold back tears. "I love you, Keigo."
"I love you, too."
SI 😢 (why isn't there a happy cry emoji)
this made me feel so warm and fuzzy and just :) I love how you write him and it makes me all smiley when you write him for little ol me :)
"i'll drop out" too real of a line
thank you so much si I absolutely adore you *is giving you a big smile with tears streaming from my bloodshot eyes*
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