#is the scrubs fandom alive

[stepbackattack]

Me and @nyatem in the medical show trenches

#how does the tumblr community feel about scrubs? #is the scrubs fandom alive #scrubs tv #scrubs tv show #turk scrubs #jd scrubs #john dorian #christopher turk #perry cox #dr cox #elliot reid #scrubs #gregory house #house md #scrubs fanart

[klbwriting]

Adventures In Atlantean-Sitting

Chapter 2

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Arthur tells the council he has a plan, Orm meets YN and isn't too pleased

Arthur spent the next few days in Atlantis with the council, laying out exactly who this tracking metahuman was and what they could do. He explained that YN was someone who Batman had found originally. She had lived in Gotham for her whole life, in Arkham mostly, because she seemed to know too much about everyone around her. They thought she was using this power to help supervillains, however, she was not helping them willingly. Batman had gotten her out of Arkham and after she helped him track down a few of his more elusive foes he helped her get reestablished in Coast City under the eye of Green Lantern. She was able to get help controlling her power and now the Justice League called upon her if they needed help and paid for her to live just outside the city. She was trusted completely, very predictable, and she would be able to find Orm and when she did she would report back to Arthur and he would have a squad take in the exiled king. After much debate about whether an Atlantean should be with her while she did this, they council finally agreed to let the king do it his way first. Orlan, surprisingly, was on his side about this. Arthur knew it was because Orlan wanted to see him fail fantastically. He went back to the surface and contacted Orm, telling him to meet him at the edge of the woods north of the city.

Orm arrived at the meeting spot, carrying his bag. He figured Arthur was taking him somewhere new, there was an attack by Atlantean's on the city, he couldn't stay there. They might have found him and then Arthur would have a conflict with the surface world and the council in Atlantis. The man couldn't handle that kind of stress, he could barely handle tying his shoes. Orm sighed, he needed to stop thinking that Arthur was such an idiot. He had defeated Orm, had found Atlan's trident, apparently was able to run the kingdom well enough that the people at least were on his side. Arthur was not the imbecile older brother anymore, he was a good king, and a good brother who was willing to deal with Orm and his shit.

"There's my baby brother," Arthur said, moving to lift Orm by surprise, hugging him from the side and turning him around in the air. Orm struggled. Alright, Arthur was still an imbecile. "Now I need you to be completely honest with me, did you attack Coast City?" Orm was appalled.

"NO!" he said. "That attack was rudimentary, if you're going to attack a city like that, you don't just send in a small ground assault, you use the water that is right there to destroy half the city first, then you come in with a large ground assualt..." Orm stopped when he noticed Arthur holding back a laugh. His eyes narrowed. "You already knew I had nothing to do with it." He nodded.

"I did, but that insight into your brain was fascinating. You are a terrifying little man," his brother said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come on, I got the council to agree to me finding you, not sending out an Atlantean search team," he explained as they started walking down a side dirt road into the trees.

"Why do they even think it is me?" he asked. Arthur sighed.

"They found a weapon under some rubble, the DNA attached to it was yours," he said. Orm's eyebrows shot up. He could still activate some weapons? He may need that for later. "O don't get any ideas, I already made sure to send teams out to the rest of the caches in the world, you're scrubbed from all of them now." Orm's small fledge of hope deflated. He coup attempt would have to wait. "But anyway..."

"Where are you taking me?" Orm asked now, just noticing they were just going into trees. There wasn't any town or even a bus station to take him somewhere else.

"Let me explain. Because your DNA was found the council wants to find you, they know you're alive now. I promised them I would have a specific person find you. Well, I know where you are, this person I'm taking you to is a friend of the League. She's agreed to keep track of you and to house you until the real culprit of these attacks is discovered." Orm frowned. So Arthur's grand plan to help him was to have someone babysit him? He wasn't a child. He just needed to get far enough away, maybe stay towards the inner states for awhile. The council would soon forget him again and he would be able to find someplace new to settle for awhile.

They finally exited the trees to find a small cottage surrounded by wildflowers. There was an older model car parked by the red door. The place looked a bit magical to Orm. He had just watched a movie where there was a cottage like this, it seemed like a place nothing bad could happen. Arthur walked up to the door and knocked. A woman answered and smiled big at Arthur, hugging him tight before looking to Orm and smiling. Poseidon, that smile was like sunshine. Orm immediately liked her, but hated that she was his keeper. He would be getting out of this place as soon as he could. She walked over, extending her hand to him. Orm shook it politely before pulling back. The woman smiled.

"You must be Orm, Arthur has told me about your predicament. But you have no worries here. This place is completely off the books, so no one will know you're here. Well except me, but you knew that," she said. "I'm YN, come inside." She took his bag before he could argue, and walked back into the house. Orm entered and looked around. It was small, but just enough for one, maybe two people to be comfortable. She stood in the middle of the main room. She pointed out where everything was, living area, dining table, kitchen, bathroom, and one bedroom. He frowned.

"Am I sleeping on the couch?" Orm asked. The couch looked old, and honestly, not very comfortable. Arthur nudged him hard in the side, glaring. Apparently he was being rude.

"No, I am taking the couch. I set up my room for you. I wouldn't let a king sleep in squalor," she said. Orm flushed a little at the term. Was she needling him or trying to be kind? Arthur glowered a little and Orm decided she must be being kind to him. Arthur however, could see the look YN was giving his brother. She was smitten by Orm and Arthur really wished she wasn't the only meta he knew with these powers. She might be a liability. He knew Orm would run and he needed his brother to stay put and he needed someone who could keep him here and right now that was looking less likely. Maybe he would have Lantern come by tomorrow, just to check on things. Right now he needed to leave and get back to Atlantis.

"Well, you two kids have fun, Orm, stay here and YN, please keep an eye on him," he implored. YN saluted him and smiled. Orm just sighed and nodded, pretending defeat. "Thank you." With that Arthur left and Orm and YN were left alone. YN smiled and Orm for a moment thought, maybe I'll stay.

#orm marius #king orm #ormmarius #orm marius x reader #king orm x reader #kingorm #ormmariusxreader #kingormxreader #ormseries5

[sortasirius]

First Place

Fandom: 911

Pairing: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Words: 2209

Rating: T

Summary: Buck wakes from the same repeating nightmare to a knock on his door.

Title comes from this song.

Also on AO3 here

Stay with me.  He was pushing on the wound in Eddie’s chest, soaking the gauze he had packed on there, soaking his hands, a hole blown in a levy, a tidal wave that Buck couldn’t stem.

A loud rhythmic sound, maybe one of the machines on the rig acting up.  Buck didn’t have time to worry about that, he just had to worry about keeping Eddie awake.  Keeping him alive.

He was not allowed to leave, he wasn’t allowed to go to a place where Buck couldn’t immediately follow.

Stay with me.

He repeated the words like a mantra, like a prayer, saying them over and over as Eddie’s eyes rolled in and out of focus, his hand scrabbling blindly on the metal floor beside him, then coming up to rest on Buck’s forearm, then back down again.

Stay with me, you have to stay with me.

More of that rhythmic noise, louder this time.  He thought he heard his own name.

“Open up!”

He looked around, only now noticing that the rig was empty.  He looked up at the driver’s seat.

Empty.

Buck, Eddie whispered, his hand coming up to touch his face now, Buck-

Stay with me. 

Stay with me.

You have to stay with me.

“Buck!”

He sat straight up from the couch, gasping for air, his heart doing its best to beat out of his chest as whoever was at his door knocked loudly again.

He scrubbed a hand down his face as he moved slowly towards the door, trying to shake the fear that clung to him like a second skin.

Just another nightmare, just like all the others he had had since Eddie had had a hole blown right through him.

He had thought, maybe stupidly, that with Eddie home now, things would go back to normal.  He was safe, at home with Chris and probably Ana.  He was home.  He was with Chris.  It was fine.

He would tell himself this over and over, even as he would watch the clock tick nearer and nearer to dawn, and would finally gave up on sleeping all together and just sit in front of the tv, not taking in the flickering images in front of his eyes.

He thought it might be easier if he could stay with Eddie, but he couldn’t ask him that.  He had his own life, his own son, his own girlfriend.  He didn’t need Buck hanging on like a lost puppy, clinging to him like a life raft in a storm.

That never worked out for Buck, but he had never been able to let go.

He pulled open the door, only to see Eddie himself, dressed in that cream colored henley that Buck had always thought looked great on him and…pajama pants?

“Hey,” Buck blinked, looking around, “I didn’t expect-“

“Can I come in?” Eddie was shifting side to side, like he was nervous, and it was rare that Buck ever saw Eddie nervous.

“Sure,” he said, inwardly thankful that Taylor had already left.  She didn’t like to stay the night, she said Buck was too cuddly and it made her too hot, “I figured you’d be with Chris.”

“He’s in bed,” he looked over his shoulder, into Buck’s apartment, “Can I come in?”

“Oh, sure. Of course,” he stood by to let him pass, analyzing his movements as he walked by him.

He was moving well.  Buck had been up half the night googling signs and symptoms of infection or blood poisoning or a myriad of other things WebMD told him could come along with an extended hospital stay or a heavy caliber gunshot wound.

He’d lost so much blood, seeping out onto the asphalt, his insides out-

He gave his head a little shake, closing the door and following Eddie to the couch, sinking down onto it next to him, and looking at him curiously.

The silence stretched on, Buck watching Eddie, Eddie watching his hands. They were twisting together, like he was working up to something.

“I dumped Ana,” he finally said, so bluntly that Buck was taken aback.

“Oh did-  Did something happen?”

Something like a small smile curled Eddie’s mouth, but he still wouldn’t look at Buck.

“Yeah.  Carla.”

Whoa. This was a new development.

“You-  You’re dating Carla?”

“What?  No,” he laughed, “No it-  it was something she said to me.”

Another silence.  Buck couldn’t understand where this was going, or why Eddie had come to the loft just to tell him this in the middle of the night when they would see each other on shift the next morning.

“What’d she say?”

“That-  That I had to make sure I was following my own heart, not just Christopher’s.  And I was thinking about it and I realized she was right, I was just with Ana because she was nice and because Chris liked her.”

“Oof. Rough.  Hope you didn’t say that to her.”

“But I realized,” Eddie continued, plowing over Buck’s words, “That there was someone we had in common. Someone Chris loves that I-  I think I do too.”

There was a sick kind of sinking in his gut, something that he didn’t really understand, but something that was common anytime Eddie mentioned a date or someone he was seeing.

“Oh yeah?” he tried to keep up a bright smile, “Who’s that?”

Eddie didn’t answer him, but just…looked at him instead.

“What?”

“You know,” he seemed to be choosing his words more carefully now, “When I got shot, you were the first thing I saw.”

Buck shifted; he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to remember that horrible moment, something that he was sure was going to keep him awake for years, screaming nightmares punctuating his sleep.

Eddie on the ground, his warm blood splattered across Buck’s face…

“It didn’t even hurt, really,” Eddie was saying, “The shock of it, you know.  I don’t even remember falling, but I remember I couldn’t see you.”

Buck rubbed at his chest, where was he going with this?  It’s not like he didn’t remember, it was just a couple of weeks ago and felt like he was still living in the nightmare.  He saw him bleeding out, Buck powerless to do anything but watch every time he closed his eyes.

“And then I looked under the rig and I saw you, and I could hear yelling and shots from the sniper and screaming and a fire nearby, but I-”

He broke off, shaking his head, but the idea of him not finishing what he was going to say was suddenly too heartbreaking to bear.

“What?  You can tell me.”

He took a deep, steadying breath.

“I was reaching for you. I was reaching for you because-  Because I didn’t want to die without touching you, even just for a second.  Just one last second.”

Buck felt like all the air had been punched out of his chest.

“You-”

“And then the way you talked after.  How it should have been you, how it would have been better if it was you,” Eddie shook his head, looking almost angry, “I can’t-  Chris needs you. I-  I need you.  I need you, Buck.”

“You-  You need me?” he said slowly, trying to force his brain to work faster.

“Yeah,” he whispered, shifting closer to him on the couch, so their knees were touching, “I need you more than Chris does, and he’s already complaining that he hasn’t seen you in two days.”

“I just wanted to give you your space,” he mumbled, head low.

“You don’t have to give us-  Give me any space.  I want you around, always.”

“For now,” Buck let the words slip without even thinking, his internal monologue slipping out uninvited.  Instantly, he wished he could take them back, because Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed down in concern and he reached for him, gripping his knee in his hand, warmth leeching through the fabric of Buck’s sweatpants.

“What do you mean, ‘for now’?”

“Nothing,” he said it too quickly, but wouldn’t pull away from Eddie, nothing in the universe could make him pull away from Eddie ever again, “It’s stupid.”

“No,” he was using that same tone he had used in the hospital, when he had told him that he wasn’t replaceable.  Forceful.  Assured.  Like nothing had ever been more true.  “Tell me what you meant.”

“It’s just-” he had never said this to anyone, never let it see the light of day. Because if he said it, he would lose them that much faster, “Everyone leaves eventually, when they see me.”

“See you?” he couldn’t escape the look on Eddie’s face, “What do you mean, see you?”

“Just when-  When I’m too much. Because I’m always too much. It’s what everyone says.”

“Who says that?  I wouldn’t say that.”

“I just-  The way I act. I’m too much. I’m…I’m exhausting.”

Eddie’s whole face changed.

“Oh Buck-”

“No it’s fine.  It’s fine.  I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“I was just mad at you-” Eddie sounded frantic, “I didn’t mean.”

“It’s not you, it’s everyone. My parents, my sister, the rest of the crew, any girl…ever.  Even Taylor tells me she can’t stay because I cuddle too much, even when I’m asleep I cling too hard.  I know I’m too much and I just-  I can’t get my hopes up that anything would be different here.”

He swallowed, blinking back tears that stung his eyes.

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice was so gentle, “Will you look at me?”

He didn’t want to.  He didn’t want Eddie to see him going to pieces over something as silly as this.  It was just the truth, something that he had known from the time he was a child, even years before he knew that he was only born for spare parts; he loved too hard, and he crushed the people that he loved in the process of loving them.

So it was easier for everyone to leave him, or else risk being suffocated.

A gentle hand came up to lift his chin, and he was looking at Eddie, his gaze something dangerously close to tender.

“You aren’t too much,” Buck snorted wetly, making to shrug him off, but Eddie held fast, “No, listen to me.  Really listen to me.  You aren’t too much, and fuck everyone for ever making you feel like you were.  Fuck me, for all that.  I was just angry at you-  I didn’t realize what I was saying would leave-  Leave such a mark.  But it’s not true, Buck.  You’ve never been too much, not for Chris.  Not for me.”

“I don’t know,” he wanted to try for humor, otherwise he’d be bursting into tears right here in front of Eddie, “You get pretty annoyed at me.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re pretty annoying,” a ghost of a smile flitted across his face, “But that doesn’t mean you’ve ever been too much.”

Buck closed his eyes, hot tears leaking from them against his will.  He felt the pad of Eddie’s thumb wiping them away, and he leaned into the contact.

“Don’t-  Please don’t just be saying this.  Don’t say it if-  If you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it,” Eddie’s voice was so earnest that Buck opened his eyes, “I mean every word.”

They stayed like that, just looking at each other, and Buck felt almost like it was a standoff, seeing who would break first.

“I don’t-  I don’t know how to feel,” he finally said, pulling back from Eddie just slightly, so that he dropped his hands, “I still-  I think I need to sleep, I can’t put anything together.”

“Are you sleeping down here?” Eddie looked critically at the blanket and throw pillow Buck had been using as a makeshift bed, “What’s wrong with the loft?”

“I can’t sleep up there,” he looked away from him, “Not that I can sleep much better down here either.”

“Just can’t sleep?” Eddie arched an eyebrow at him, “Or is it-”

“It’s you,” Buck said, nearly bitterly, “I keep dreaming about it.  The shooting.  Everything.  I keep having to stop myself from calling you at three in the morning just to make sure you’re okay.”

There was a pause, one where Buck could practically see the wheels in Eddie’s brain turning, before he said,

“Then come home with me.”

“What?” Buck said loudly, sure he had misheard him.

“Come home with me,” he repeated, steadily, “You won’t have to check on me if we’re in the same bed.”

That strange feeling in his chest had vanished, replaced by something warm and blooming.

“You mean that?”

“Oh yeah, I definitely mean it,” he got to his feet, groaning slightly, and extended his hand to Buck, “What do you say?  It’ll give Chris the thrill of his life when he wakes up to find you in the house.”

“Just Chris?” Buck fished tentatively, and Eddie laughed, leaning into his space, so that they were only an inch or so apart.

“Not just Chris,” he whispered, pressing his lips gently to Buck’s.  He leaned into the kiss, pulling Eddie in closer, careful with his left side, ever aware of the bullet hole that had torn him apart and brought them together.

#buddie #my writing #911 #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #probably first of many lol #buddie fanfic

[cuddlepilefics]

Sleepy sickie + post-adrenaline puke

Fandom: P1Harmony

Sickie: Intak

Caregivers: hyung-line

@monthofsick

TW: emeto, fainting, real person fiction

No one’s POV.:

Comebacks were always rough but now that P1Harmony actually won on a show, the members were motivated to work even harder to get more wins under their belt. It didn’t matter how tired they were, the feeling of being cheered on by their fans made the exhaustion absolutely worth it. “What’s on your mind?”, Keeho asked softly, catching Intak’s attention. Furrowing his brows at the leader, Intak muttered: “You talking to me, hyung?” – “Who else would I be talking to? We’re the only two here”, Keeho retorted and the younger frantically looked around the room. He hadn’t noticed their friends leaving. Had he really been that spaced out? “So?”, the leader repeated, “What’s on your mind? You seem really deep in thought, especially if you didn’t even notice the others heading out.”

There was a moment of silence before Intak asked: “Can I be honest with you? There’s nothing on my mind. No thoughts, head empty. ‘m just so tired.” – “So you’ve been more or less asleep with your eyes open, huh?”, Keeho chuckled, passing the younger a bottle of water, “I get that. None of us has gotten nearly enough sleep lately. Try to stay hydrated and we’ll see if we can fit in a nap at any point of the day.” Obediently sipping half of the water, Intak closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He hadn’t been able to kick this headache for the past two days and it only seemed to be getting worse. Noticing his dongsaeng’s discomfort, Keeho hummed: “Headache?” The younger nodded and closed his eyes, resting his head in his hands. “Don’t worry, the others will bring back lunch when they return and I’m sure Taeyang will have some painkillers for you once you got something in your stomach”, the leader smiled, massaging Intak’s neck.

Grimacing, the boy slipped one hand under his shirt and weakly palmed at his middle. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to have something in his stomach. It had been a little unsettled for a while now but he knew how stress could lead to digestive problems, so he wasn’t too concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”, Taeyang asked as he placed the takeout bag onto the table. “Huh?”, Intak sleepily blinked up at the eldest, “Wha’?” – “I asked if you’re feeling okay”, Taeyang repeated, “You look pretty pale.” Sitting up, the rapper sighed: “Need sleep.” His words still came out a little slurred and he sluggishly scrubbed at his swollen eyes. “We all do”, Keeho muttered under his breath as he glanced at their maknaes tiredly piling onto a seat together.

After making sure their two youngest were eating, Jiung joined his hyungs in fussing over Intak. “Eat something”, Jiung hummed, placing a takeout box in front of the younger, “You’ll need the energy for the performance.” Though his appetite was almost non-existent but feeling pressured by his hyungs, he forced himself to eat, partly hoping he’d feel more alive once he had something in his system. Intak missed the hushed conversation between the two eldest but quietly thanked Taeyang when the older handed him a painkiller. Once the headache improved, he should be more functional.

That plan backfired badly and Intak found himself with a bad stomachache barely half an hour after his meal. He had already gotten his hair and makeup done, so he curled up on the couch and closed his eyes for a while. There was no way, he’d be able to take a nap though, the pain so intense he could barely breathe. His stomach groaned lowly, catching Jiung’s attention. “You good?”, the older whispered, heart breaking when the other shook his head. Releasing a slow breath, Intak mumbled: “The food isn’t settling at all.” – “No? What’s going on?”, Jiung worried, scooting over to feel his dongsaeng’s forehead, “You don’t have a fever, do you feel sick at all?” The younger slipped his hand under his shirt and rubbed his churning stomach, breathing: “It hurts like hell and I feel like I’m gonna puke.” – “Should we go to the bathroom?”, Jiung cooed, offering Intak a hand, “Come on, maybe you’ll feel better if you get it out.”

Intak panted as he bent over the toilet bowl, spitting into the undisturbed waters and watching the ripples. Standing behind his dongsaeng, Jiung rubbed the other’s back and winced when he felt his spine ripple. Intak’s eyes watered as he pitched forward with a harsh retch. Breaking into a strained coughing fit, the rapper hugged his middle tight as the pain increased tenfold. Intak sank into a crouch and heaved forcefully but couldn't bring anything up. Kneading the back of the rapper’s neck, Jiung offered: “Do you want me to get you some water? Might soothe your stomach or help you throw up.” – “Stay, please?”, Intak whimpered and shook his head, a fresh tear spilling down his pale cheek.

Jiung did stay, patiently rubbing Intak’s back as the younger heaved painfully. The rapper didn’t bring anything up though, only shredding his throat with unproductive retches as his stomach kept turning. Realizing that nothing would come from his attempts, Intak straightened back up and winced when his ears rang. With his vision darkening, he grabbed Jiung’s arms to steady himself, grateful when the older grabbed him to keep him from toppling over.

“You should have a couple of minutes to lay down and rest before we need to get on stage”, Jiung mused, walking Intak back to the couch, where the rapper promptly curled up, “Here, have some water first.” – “Hyung, I’m not sure that’s a good idea”, Intak moaned, palming his still upset stomach. He doubted it’d stay down. Turning to the younger, Keeho gasped in shock: “Woah, shit! What happened to your voice?!” Since the rapper looked so uncomfortable talking about it, Jiung replied softly: “Lunch wasn’t sitting so well and he’s feeling really sick to his stomach. He didn’t throw up yet but the dry heaves strained his throat badly.” – “You’re sick?”, Keeho frowned, feeling Intak’s forehead but he couldn’t detect a fever either. The younger didn’t reply, already knocked out.

“Poor kid”, Jiung whispered as he glanced at his sleeping dongsaeng, “He’s so exhausted, I think his body is lacking the energy to digest his meal. That might be why it's hurting him so much.” – “I’ll make sure he’ll be cleared from schedules for the remainder of the day”, Keeho promised, “Not sure I’ll be able to her him out of this performance though, since he didn’t throw up nor does he have a fever.” Jiung nodded grateful and went to find Taeyang to see if the older also had nausea medication, still praying his dongsaeng would have to perform. He couldn’t help beating himself up for saying that Intak hadn’t gotten sick yet. Though the rapper had tried so hard to be quiet, Jiung was sure at least some of the staff had heard him, so they could’ve easily lied but it was too late for that now.

Intak had a hard time waking up when Taeyang shook him just in time to quickly get his makeup retouched before having to go on stage. “You should drink a little more than that”, the eldest commented when Intak swallow the pill with only one tiny sip if water, “We wouldn’t want you passing out on stage.” – “No’ gonna pass ou’”, the rapper slurred, pushing the bottle away. Watching the interaction, Keeho wondered how the boy was going to rap his lines if he was too sleepy to pronounce such a simple sentence. Fighting down a sickly burp, Intak muttered under his breath: “More worried ‘bout pukin’ in front of everyone.” – “That’s not very reassuring”, Jiung chuckled sadly, also encouraging the other to have a few more sips.

They only had a few minutes left and Intak weakly slumped into Jiung’s side. “I cleared your schedule for the rest of the day, so you can catch up on some sleep soon. Your voice sounds wrecked, that’s why we’ll have you lipsync, just focus on dacing”, Keeho informed him quietly, “We’ll need you to stay awake a little longer though. Just get this performance over with and then you can rest.” The words barely made sense in Intak’s muddled brain but hearing their fans’ cheers already, the adrenaline woke him up just in time. Though he still felt incredibly shaky, he managed to put on a smile for their fans and forced his sore body to dance his heart out, temporarily forgetting the nausea licking at the back of his throat.

The members were stunned as they watched Intak dance. They wouldn’t have noticed him being unwell at all if they didn’t know. That was also why they startled when their friend crumpled, barely striking the ending pose before losing consciousness. With the camera focusing on their two maknaes as ending fairies, Keeho and Jiung quickly hoisted Intak off the floor and carried him backstage. Placing the rapper on the couch with a stack of cushions to elevate his legs, Jiung anxiously patted his dongsaeng’s pale cheeks, while a staff member fanned the boy with a stack of papers.

Intak was so unbelievably dizzy when he came to, his eyes still out of focus. With the adrenaline wearing off, the nausea returned with a vengeance, making him roll onto his side. Keeho managed to snatch a towel and hold it under Intak’s chin just in time for the rapper to gag up his nausea medicine. “You’re okay”, Jiung cooed and replaced the towel with a trash can, patting his dongsaeng’s back as he choked. Hurriedly removing the cushions, Keeho sat Intak up to help him breathe while the younger kept coughing. The leader placed the trash can between the rapper’s legs and winced when he threw up again. Intak barely managed to get a breath in before another large wave spilled from his lips. Rubbing slow, comforting circles on the rapper’s back, Jiung whispered: “Get it all out, your stomach will feel better afterwards.” – “You did so well”, Keeho praised, getting another towel that he wet with some cold water, draping ut across the back of his dongsaeng’s neck to ease his headache a little.

The rest of the members, joined them not much later, hearts aching when they found Intak sleepily curled up against Jiung’s side. It had taken a bit for the heaves to die down, his throat now burning from the strain. He couldn’t bring himself to drink anything, merely rinsing his mouth a couple of times to get rid of the vile taste. Now that the adrenaline was gone, Intak was zapped of all energy, finally breaking into tears after fighting so hard to keep it together. Seeing that he was probably done throwing up, Jiung opened his arms and inviting the rapper to cuddle into him. “It’s okay, you’re truly exhausted, huh?”, the older smiled sadly, scratching Intak’s scalp to soothe him. “Come on, put on your sweater”, Taeyang coaxed, “Sitting around in your sweaty stage outfit isn’t going to do you any good.”

It did need some convincing for Intak to move, unable to hold back a hoarse whimper at the pounding pain in his head. Taeyang stood in front of his dongsaeng, smoothing the shirt down his back while the younger sleepily rested his head against the other’s tummy. Cradling Intak’s head against his middle, the eldest promised: “We’ll get you to bed soon. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Hyungs will handle everything.” The rapper trembled, silent tears soaking into Taeyang’s shirt. It had been a while since he had last felt this miserable. The room seemed to be spinning at irregular speeds but his hyung’s arms kept him grounded. “Hyung, we grabbed you some tea”, Jongseob hummed, carrying a paper cup. Seeing that Intak wasn’t yet able to stomach anything and his hands were too shake, the maknae gave it to Taeyang to hold onto for the time being.

Intak was slowly drifting off against Taeyang, while the others got ready to leave. Before he could fall asleep though, the eldest had him sip some of the tea and they were relieved that it soothed both, his throat and his stomach. Shota came to remove Intak’s smeared makeup, while Taeyang freshened up too and the they were off. The rapper fell asleep against Jiung as they drove him back to the dorm, so he could rest. “Fee’ sick ‘gain”, Intak slurred when they pulled up to the building, only half awake. Cursing under his breath, Keeho got out and opened the door for the younger who didn’t even get to unbuckle his seatbelt before leaning out of the car, retching onto the pavement. Since Intak didn’t have much left in him, the spell was over once he heaved up a few mouthful of acid and Jiung unbuckled his seatbelt for him.

With how dizzy he was, it was hard to get Intak out of the car without him falling over but they eventually had him stumbling along between Keeho and Jiung, who prayed their dongsaeng would make it up to his room without anymore incidents because he already looked about to faint again. Taeyang rushed to removed the boy’s shoes but by the time they sat him down on his bed, he was ghostly pale anyway. Resting his hands on his dongsaeng’s shoulders, Keeho eased the boy down and shushed: “Breathe through the dizziness. We’re here now, you won’t have to move anytime soon.” – “Hyung, ‘m so tired”, Intak whimpered, draping his arm over his face as he waited for the dark spots to fade. “We know”, the leader sighed, running his hand through the rapper’s hair, “You did so well though. I’m really proud of you.”

Sadly, they could only get Intak cleared of his schedule, so there was no one who could stay with him. That’s why Jiung set him up with a bucket next to his bed, while Shota and Jongseob went through their snack cabinet and picked out some saltine crackers and pretzels. Taeyang brought a bottle of water and a sports drink, placing them on Intak’s nightstand next to the snacks their maknaes brought. “We’ll have to leave soon but you should try to get some fluids and electrolytes in as soon as your stomach settles down. There’s some stuff on your nightstand, anything particular you want us to get you before we leave?”, the eldest hummed, receiving a shake of the head, “You got your phone, so if you need anything, give us a call. Try to catch up on some sleep, okay? See you tonight.”

Finally having permission to rest, Intak was out before the door had even closed behind his friends.

#fanfic #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #sickfic #sick #emeto #tw emeto #tw rpf #p1harmony #novemetober

[marimayscarlett]

I wonder what kind of costume change we'll be gifted with next summer now that the chicken coat is no more.

Would be fun to see a complete style overhaul for all of them for the new era, but since it's a continuation of the tour, I doubt we will.

Hi!!

I think this is a topic which actually is on a lot of minds throughout the fandom - especially since the chicken coat supposedly found his place for retirement in the Rammstein museum. As it should, it really did a good job and looks like it needs time to rest 👀

I agree with you that new outfits and styles for the whole band would be nice, but I think that either some parts of their wardrobe will be overhauled or maybe some outfits make a come back, which weren't used much or were worn a longer time ago (that's just wishful thinking on my part I guess). I'm especially thinking about the following (plus incudling some thoughts what would fit some of them concerning new outfits, at least imho):

Schneider's really comfortable looking, kind of yoga-suit from this year. He looks so good and relaxed in it, would be nice to see it again 🤍 Anything more lose-fitting or maybe some kind of cape would be really cool to see on him.

picture credit: @iinchicore

Paul's red snake suit (worn in 2019 I think), I really liked the color shade of it and the matching boots! In general would just wish for a little bit more color on him next year - maybe red or something completely different, just something else than the grey suit would be neat.

Regarding Olli, I just really wish for anything which makes him more visible on stage - please no more all black outfits and makeup 🙏 The stage make up from 2022 was absolutely amazing and so unique (thanks to @wizzardclown who reminded me of this!):

picture credit: @derwahnsinn

or Olli in red, which made him visible and made him look pretty arcane in a mystical way:

picture credit: Suzanne Mannifield

With Flake, I really want to see something other than a sparkly suit on him. I know it's his signature look currently and for the last few years, but this guy deserves a different look I think. Maybe something like the various medical scrubs he wore, I really dig this look:

But make it more refined and whimsical. (Funnily enough, even Willy Wonka popped into my head when I thought about potential Flake outfits, please don't ask me what's happening in my brain again)

I'm not the biggest fan of Till's outfits in general, but I liked the style and cut of the snake suit very much! But please, another material would be nice.

My favourite outift of Till will always be the one from Völkerball, it's really unmatched and fits him quite well.

Now, for Richard I have three very defined wishes.

1. The most realistic wish probably: I DEMAND that the vampire coat HAS to stay. This outfit keeps me alive, is the air that I breath and how he lives rent free in my head:

picture credits: @sechsherzen

2. If the vampire coat has to go (god forbid) or a new coat is entering the scene, something studded like this one I'd love:

(My second favourite after the vampire coat)

3. Bring back the Michael Jackson-esque leg belt thing, this was such a look. Would look exceptionally good in combination with his coat:

A kind of chaotic list and these are just my thoughts and opinions 🤍 Now I'm even more excited to see what kind of gems the future tour will bring us style-wise ✨

#Rammstein #rambling over fashion yet again eventhough i know nothing about it #really tried to stay at least a bit realistic #will definitely make a post about with outfit wishes which will have zero chance to come true #just because i can #ask #thank you for this ask! #stage outfits #stage fashion #rammstein tour 2024 #richard kruspe #paul landers #till lindemann #christoph schneider #flake lorenz #oliver riedel

[slusheeduck]

Fictober 2023 Day 9 - Prompt: "I may not get another chance to say this." Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

This was…presumptuous, at best. Nosy, at worst. And honestly, entirely not within his right, considering the current time frame. But damn it all, if this tadpole in his head didn’t take him out first, the orb in his chest would, so there really was no time like the present for Gale to do this, because there may not be much more of that left.

So, a few minutes after hearing Astarion’s drawled out, “Hello, beautiful,” and about thirty seconds after seeing Falerin walk away to go chat with Karlach, he took a deep breath, then made his way to Astarion’s tent.

“Could we…chat, Astarion?” he asked slowly, hands clasped behind his back. Astarion glanced back at him over his shoulder, eyebrows raising.

“I would ask if you were going to show me a bit of magic, but it sounds more like I’m about to get a lecture,” he said, corner of his lip quirking up in amusement. “But I suppose we could.”

Gale glanced about. “Let’s…walk. Less chance of being overheard.”

“Oh, now I’m very interested.”

Gale rolled his eyes. “Don’t get so excited. It’s bad enough with the tadpoles, but everyone here’s an eavesdropper, too.”

“Speaking from experience?” The knowing smile Astarion sent his way made Gale wince, and suddenly he was second-guessing this whole affair. It was none of his business. But it was. But it wasn’t. But…

“Look, I may not get another chance to say this,” he said quickly, pushing through the doubts. “There’s…yes, we saved the Grove and that was worth celebrating, but it’s far from the end of the road for us. And if things do get more difficult, then I want to say…”

Astarion’s eyes widened, and he paused by the shoreline. “Oh my. Is this a confession, Gale?” he asked, a cruel little smile already spreading across his face as he fanned himself. “Oh, this is all so sudden!”

“Will you stop it?” Gale snapped. “It’s about Falerin.”

That caused a shift in Astarion’s face. His hand delicately rested against his mouth, eyes narrowing. “What about Falerin?”

Gale hesitated, eyes darting between Astarion and the dying dusk over the water. “You look at him like you’re going to eat him alive.”

“Well, I mean…”

“Not in terms of your unusual diet.” Gale let out a long sigh, hand scrubbing at his face. “This is presumptuous of me, I know. We’ve both known him the same amount of time, give or take fifteen minutes, and as far as stressors go, this one should be much lower on the list. But he’s my friend, Astarion. Probably the best I’ve had since Mystra…” He sighed, dragging his hand down his face. “The point is, I’m worried you’re toying with him like…like my cat does a pigeon she’s about to tear to pieces.”

Astarion, who had stayed remarkably quiet, suddenly scoffed. “Darling, who do you think I am?”

Gale grimaced. “Please. I know he cares about you—it’s practically bursting out of every pore in his face. And I’m…I’m not trying to intimidate or scare you off, I swear. I just…some assurance, please, that you’re not going to hurt him.”

Astarion’s face had shifted into something unreadable—not scathing, not mocking, not sneaking. His gaze flitted over Gale’s face, searching for a lie.

“I’m not planning to hurt him,” he said, voice soft. “I can’t promise I won’t; I know the kind of person I am. But…I won’t toy with him.”

Gale should have been embarrassed with the obvious sigh of relief he let out, but he really wasn’t. He dropped down on a nearby rock, shaking his head. “I really should have gotten out more before this. I’ve forgotten how difficult talks like this are.” He let out another breath, then looked up at Astarion. “I haven’t been as kind to you as I should have, but I’d like to be in the future. I’d like to think that Fal would be upset if either of us left camp due to a spat.” He waved his hand. “So, any time you’d like to talk, feel free. Or…don’t. Ball is entirely in your court.”

Astarion’s mouth twitched up. “Oh, how very generous of you.” He paused for a moment, looking out at the water, then—very slowly, like he was approaching some dangerous creature—he sat down on the fallen log beside Gale. “So you…have a cat?”

Gale’s brow furrowed as he looked over at him. “Well, technically she’s a tressym, but yes.” He gave a wry smile. “Stereotypical, I know—lonely wizard in his tower with just his cat for company. Feel free to tease me about it; Tara certainly does.”

“No, no, I…” Astarion glanced over at him. “I’ve always been fond of cats. See a lot of myself in them, I suppose. Obviously having one’s always been out of the question, but…” He shrugged. “Maybe you could tell me about yours.”

Gale looked Astarion over, unable to stop the way his mouth pulled up. He knew a peace offering when he saw one. “I would be more than happy to.”

Fictober 2023 Drabble Master Post

#fictober23 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #gale of waterdeep #My bloodweave is probably showing here but I don't carrrre #Also unrelated but the most unrealistic thing of BG3 is the fact that the entire party isn't IMMEDIATELY cooing over Tara when she shows up #This man would be sharing cat pics in the Discord 3 times a day

[devilscastle69]

the thing that would not leave (t/diapt)

fandom: t/he d/evil is a part timer

characters: u/rushihara and g/abriel (could be a ship if u want)

summary: How i think g/abriel entering the devils castle and harassing l/ucifer shouldve gone (l/ucifer has a cold obvi)

word count: 1,487

Minors DNI

***

It’s rare for Urushihara to have the apartment to himself these days, and that makes it all the more offensive to have an intruder who hadn’t been relevant in ages up until recently. The fan continued to whir in the background and for once the breeze was actually giving him enough reprieve from the sweltering that he had goosebumps. With the constant humidity, this was something welcome, unlike Gabriel’s presence. He’d give his back teeth to see Alas Ramus beating his ass any day; he’d only heard the recounts from Maou and Emilia, but he was sure such a sight would keep him entertained for the next few decades. 

Even after writing down the original demon king’s “treasures” he hadn’t moved to leave and it was beginning to cut into his online shopping time. 

“It looks like a drunk seven year old wrote this,” Gabriel sighed, looking at the paper. “Really?”

“I can type ninety words a minute, y’know dude.”

“Mm’kay…how can you be alive for this long and still have handwriting like that? Is that not a part of NEET pride?”

“No.” Urushihara rolled his eyes and shook his head. For a moment there was silence save for the clacking of his keyboard and the whirring of his fan. All this back and forth was starting to drain him.

“So…think of any other treasures?” 

“Dude, that’s all I got. Like I said, most Satans are poor.” He gestured to the room around them before pointedly turning back to the screen. Eventually the big lug would show himself out. He rubbed his nose. A tickle had taken root and had been prickling at the pack of his nose since earlier in the morning and much like Gabriel, it had stubbornly refused to leave. He’d lost track of how much he’d sneezed today already. 

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hehh…” He took in a vocal inhale and with one hand, turned the brightness of the screen up for encouragement, and with the other hand brought his collar up over his nose before sneezing violently into the fabric of his shirt. “hAH’KSSHhieeh!” 

Gabriel flinched at the loud expulsion, but his initial expression of confusion quickly shifted to amusement. “Bless you? Oh wait. Can I say that given your…condition?”

Urushihara glared at him. “Dude, you’re actually not, like, supposed to say anything here.” He pulled a tissue out from the dwindling supply in the travel pack next to his leg.

“Hm. But I have a question.”

Urushihara blew his nose. Noisily. 

Gabriel took this as his cue to continue. Apparently he was already correcting his earlier digression of reading the mood. “Since when do you sneeze like that?”He was on his way to becoming a second-rate-NEET after all. 

Urushihara turned red. “Like what? Leave me ahhlone,” he protested, breath hitching slightly with the threat of another performance. Fuck. He scrubbed at his nose, but from the persistent way his eyes kept trying to close, he knew trying to ward off the sneeze was a lost cause. 

Gabriel put his stupid hands on his stupid hips and bent forward like a stupid rooster waiting for a worm to come out of the ground. “I’ll wait. You take your time, bud.”

“hadhtKSHH’iieeh!” Urushihara crumpled forward and shook from the kickback of the sneeze. He emitted a raspy groan and sniffled and rubbed his nose with his wrist.

“I’m really just supposed to not comment on that?” 

“Dude,” Urushihara grumbled and sniffled. “What do you want from me?” Gabriel scratched his head and sighed. “Well, I came all this way and you gave me nothung, so—”

“Nothung is a sword. What do you want from me?”

“Oh.” Gabriel relaxed slightly as Lucifer gave him a look of contempt. He helped himself to a glass of cold barley tea. “All I’m sayin’ is you were pretty notorious for having a cute little kitten sneeze.”

Urushihara suppressed a shudder as he fished out another tissue and shook his head. “Don’t say kitten.” 

“Just wondering why you’re suddenly screaming. Trying to compensate for—“

Urushihara groaned and cut him off. “Dude, what the hell? Where do you get off coming here to insult me?” He sniffled again and gave his nose an upward swipe with the tissue and then he continued reading the Poketure TV tropes page. “Keep your crush to yourself. I’m not interested.”

“Aw, don’t be like that.” Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck and let out a huff of amusement. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m outta your league nowadays, so—“

“You’re a damn baby snatcher!” 

Gabriel winced and sat next to him. “Well, I did have some juicy info for you, bud, but after that, I think I’m gonna need some compensation.”

“Dude, Ashiya’ll literally rip you a new one if you take one more thing from the fridge.”

Gabriel smiled. “C’mon, not like that. Guess you can say I’ve been bored too, m’kay?”

“Try getting a life,” Urushihara muttered under his breath as he attempted to return to his own in discovering some fan analyses of the most recent movie in the franchise. He sniffled again and coughed briefly. 

“You getting a cold there, bud?”

“I don’t know, okay?” 

Gabriel leaned in and poked the tip of his nose. “Bang.” 

“What—hih-hht-! ugh f-fuck you.” He’d been a fraction of a second late in batting his hand away and the damage had already been done. “hehhdt…KKSHHh! HehKSSHHH’iEEH!”

“Hm…you probably are.”

“What the hell?” Urushihara crossed his arms and moved out of his reach. He pinched away a few tears from the inner corners of his eyes before flashing a glare. “What are you talking about?”

“You probably have a cold.” Gabriel made himself comfortable on the tatami mat beside him. “Did you start sneezing like that to seem tough around the demons?” 

“Dude, no!” Urushihara’s frown turned into a look of disgust. “You’re so weird. Stop asking me questions about my sneezes.”

“I’m already not reading the mood.”

“Congrats.” 

“You know, you should be a little nicer to me.” Gabriel sighed.

Urushihara rolled his eyes and grabbed another tissue. The day he started sucking up to Gabriel would be when hell had been frozen over for a millennia. His nose stung with each chafe of the cheap one-ply fabric, and he was starting to think he did in fact have a cold.

“You don’t really sound good. Was falling really worth it?” 

“Yes.” Urushihara lowered the tissue for a moment and then squinted slightly before pinching off the budding itch. He was getting more nasally with each word. “And if you think so, that's another good reason to leave.”

“I’m sure you could use the company.”

Urushihara ignored him and scrolled further down the page and smirked at the text. The Thing That Would Not Leave, he read. How cliché. If he could just sit there in silence, eventually Gabriel would leave. Unfortunately, with the way the past few hours had been going, it might not be so easy, and the glare from the blue-tinted light was actively working against his attempts at ignoring the itch that was worsening with every inhale. 

“Need another tissue?” Gabriel asked in amusement as he looked over him. He leaned in closer and smiled. “Looks like you’re gonna start up again.”

“Juhhstt stop talki’hhg abouhht—heh…KSHh! Ihkshh! h’KTshh! Iht’kshh!” He sneezed in rapid fire succession, wrist moving up halfway through the fit to cover his nose. They kept coming on, fittish and pitchy, and he was unable to do anything other than ride it out. “mpt’TSShh! http’SHhhee! ihh..hh’TSchhieh!”

“Yeah, that’s more like I remember.”

“Hehht’ZSHHh! Okay? Happy?” He buried his nose into a fresh tissue and blew it again. It was filled and rendered useless after emptying one nostril and he needed to grab a few more. 

Gabriel also took a tissue and wiped the spray from his obnoxious t-shirt. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have gotten so close, but his curiosity had been appeased so he’d accept the consequences. “Guess I’m satisfied for now. Anyway, as I was gonna say…you really should be nicer to me, mm’kay? I’m the only reason The Watcher is standing down.”

“The—“ Urushihara sniffled and took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you lead with that? What the hell?”

“You should’ve guessed, because Sariel—“

“Hdt’ShhHieh! No! How would I know I’ve been out of the loop for like ever!”

“Aw. Bless y—“

“Dude I’m about to make a few calls and have you escorted out.”

“I’ll be long gone by the time you do.” Gabriel smiled. “Anyway, if you wanna do this again sometime, here’s my number.” He tore a paper and scrawled his number on it and flicked it at him. “Call me if you want to do this again sometime.”

“In your dreams.”

“Hope you have a nice day, bud.” Gabriel’s smile only widened before he finally left. 

Urushihara switched tabs and added same-day-shipping lotion-infused tissues to the cart.

#snz #t/diapt #snz fic #sneeze fic #i love luci #my writing #idek what to say #hope someone enjoys

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi! 🫐 What’s your favorite underrated thing in your fandom? (A ship that only you seem to write for, a character there’s almost no fics about, a trope that criminally hasn’t been written yet, etc.)

hi! thank you for the ask ^_^

i think the biggest thing that i feel is underrated that i love outside of some malec stuff, is team immortal.

i adore cat and ragnor and magnus and i think that they have some incredibly tight bonds. but because ragnor died there isn't much about him out there and i love reading when he is alive but i always want more

i think the biggest thing is pretending that there isn't a magical ward at the hospital because you cannot have obscenely rich warlocks interested in healing not fund and help get a magical ward in the hospital they work at.

like you know magnus and ragnor were bored one week while cat was complaining about being unable to safely take care of a warlock child with colic because of the magic and the next day there was a mysterious donation, a rather reclusive old englishman got involved and suddenly, there is an extra, super secret ward.

everyone thinks that it's for like politicians, crime lords, people who have a lot of money and want privacy meawhile in the ward:

cat: take the medicine and stop turning my scrubs green

baby warlock hiccuping with colic: k *cat's scrubs turn and stay searing neon orange*

--

also there is a giant lack of shifter au's, daemon aus, sentinel/guide aus, small magic aus, etc and i loveeeee all of those things

the shadowworld is magical and there is so little exploring the more magical side of the world and all these hidden realms that mundanes can't and dont know about and i just am so invested in exploring that and adding my own stuff

OH

NEPHILIM ARE SUPPOSED TO HAVE SPECIAL ABILITIES THE LD BLOODLINES BUT WE ONLY SEE IT IN CLARY. who then has extra special stuff because of her angel blood

also has no one considered that Helen also might have double angel blood? we don't know how her genetics work and gentics are weird. she could have angel/angel blood instead of angel/demon blood because she certainly isn't angel/human.

and eldritch nephilim/warlocks who have greater demn blood

eldritch is so underrated and i adore it so much!!

<3 lumine

#lumine talks to ppl #lumine answers asks

[ashlingnarcos]

take it

Javier Peña/gender neutral!Reader: informant x javi, reader knows him all too well, hurt/comfort, angst

length: 2.1k, can read on ao3 here instead if you like

inspiration from @narcolini

warnings: referenced kidnapping of reader, tiny bit of kinda sorta choking, also no actual smut

comments & fandom-related asks welcome!

Smell comes to you first: the threatening undertone of shitty apartment mildew, the warm human smell of rumpled sheets, coffee floating on top rich and strong. Then comes sound, a defective air conditioner not fighting the hot air so much as just moving it around. Then comes pain. 

Most of the pain is a few days old, dulled to ache, but your hand, that's new. Tiny, negligible, but new. There's something holding you down, your shoulder, pressing you into the mattress, but no urge to fight it. No urge to fight it. Why? You blink, glance up. 

Javi’s sitting at the edge of the bed, to your left, legs dangling over the side. The motel room is his, and the hand is his too. He’s leaning on your shoulder, holding you down in earnest, but his attention is elsewhere, on some papers in his free hand. He’s squinting.

He should really see about getting some glasses, but he won't. Just keeps claiming he's tired, he doesn't need them, but he is always tired and he still needs glasses. So tired. Look at him. 

If he didn't have his work occupying both his hands, he'd probably scrub them over his face in that way that always serves as prelude to drinking, fucking, sleeping, or bad decisions—sometimes all four, though not in that order. But he's got work in both hands, so he sits steady beside you. God.

You look down at your own hurt hand, discover that someone's put a band-aid on it. Javi has. Can't be anyone else; nobody else knows you're here. It doesn’t feel so bad, maybe a small bruise, a nick. Couple spots of blood on the hem of his long-sleeve t-shirt. A little nick.

In any other bed, upon waking with fresh injuries, you'd be out of your mind with fear. Here, you're just sleepy.

You look down at Javi's hand securing you, the spread fingers. You've seen what this hand can do. Each knuckle different. Two scars, minor, light lines across the back of his hand, maybe an inch and a half long, negligible but for how straight they are, and how parallel. That's ominous. Still could be an accident, but possibly not. What happened, Javi? Accidental scars or not, had to be someone. Many of them, you think. Had to be many of them. He's too stubborn a man to be brought this low by just the one. 

Or maybe you're mythologizing again. That's a bad habit of yours. Can't fucking help it, though, can you? If men continually refuse to let you turn on the light, the shadows will come alive with possibilities.

When you put your hand over his, feeling his knuckles against your open palm, you can't resist tracing the raised lines of his scars with your thumb.  

Javi startles as though at a buzzing fly, knocked out of whatever world those papers had constructed around him, knocking out of your reverie, and suddenly you're both back in the world. 

He closes the file and throws it on the nightstand, tries to take his hand back, but you tighten your grip and he lets you keep it. You interlace your fingers. God, it feels good. Mostly for the way he looks at you, affectionately searching.

“You okay?” he says, soft.

“You tell me.” Still holding onto him, you angle your hand up, indicate the band-aid with your thumb.

Something stirs behind his eyes. “You roll around a lot when you’re dreaming. Nicked it on the windowsill.”

Do you want to ask him whether you talked in your sleep, too? Maybe you didn’t. Maybe you got lucky, and only fought. No wonder he was holding you down. 

Those sleeping pills are no joke, you're about to say. But before you can, Javi strokes your hair with his free hand. 

He doesn't even try to camouflage it with purpose, doesn’t push your hair back from your face or pick out invisible lint. Just his fingertips, honest, and a face that makes him look both younger and older than he is at once.

Jesus, Javi, if I'd known that climbing into your bed was all it took to melt you, I'd have done this two months ago.

“How are you feeling?” he says.

Last night, it was his stash of bandages laid carefully on your skin, then cold cans of his beer pressed to your bruises. Now you're wearing his shirt, a pair of his boxers, underneath his sheets—his hand is in yours, his hand is in your hair—his eyes are on you, he's fucking everywhere. He's all over you. He's all over you, and you want more. 

"Come here,” you say.

"Hm?" he says, like he doesn't know what you mean, smiling a half-smile that gives himself away. 

You let go, sit up till your hip is pressed to his, and lean in until your foreheads touch, until he’s all you can see. Every little detail. 

Up close, his brown eyes aren’t the way you imagined them, not self-satisfied or lust-darkened or even excited. You’ve never seen this expression on his face before. The closest you’ve ever seen was a caution appropriate to having a gun pressed to his temple. This, though, is something tentative.

"Come here,” you say again, and he does, presses a dry close-mouthed kiss to the corner of your lips, almost chaste. 

For that, you turn your head and bite his bottom lip. Not hard, just enough so his lips part, so you can slip your tongue inside, and oh, oh, when he takes your face in his hands and fucking commits, it’s so good. You sigh a sound into his mouth that you didn’t even know you were going to make. 

There’s that smile of his, that satisfaction, but then he angles his head and whatever comment you were going to make gets lost. You get lost. 

One of his hands slides up your back, underneath your shirt, and there’s something obscene in the sheer span of his spread fingers, the way they flex against your skin, his fingertips digging in. Then there’s his other hand, fingertips slipping under the waistband of your boxers. You stop that hand, put it on your ass instead, and brace yourself for the inevitable.

But the inevitable never comes. No questions, no protests, just Javi grabbing your ass, pulling you in, shifting you till you’re straddling his thigh and he can press his open mouth to your neck. Teeth, too, slow and filthy. You tangle your hands in his sweat-damp hair and keep waiting for him to pull back and ask, but he never does. As you grind down on his thigh, the words just happen. 

“You’re so perfect, you make me sick,” you murmur. “How’d I get so lucky?”

He pauses only long enough to get out one syllable, barely audible: “Don’t.”

Then he’s back to your neck, kissing his way up to the sensitive spot just behind the corner of your jaw, like nothing happened.

“What?” you say, barely able to think, but vaguely, disturbingly aware that something did just happen. 

“Nothing,” he murmurs in your ear, and you feel a pinprick of alarm: he’s trying to make it sound sexy. Trying. “Come here.” 

And now you’re getting exactly what you wanted; he’s all over you. He lowers you onto the mattress and follows, kissing the other side of your neck as his whole body presses you down. Not his whole body weight—he’s holding himself up a bit with one arm. He’s so careful, so intent, so inescapable, for a second you almost give yourself up to it. But then you remember.

“Wait.” You angle your head, try to catch his eyes, and fail. “What?”

Javi picks himself up, so now he’s got one hand planted on either side of your head, leaning over you, panting a little, hair a mess.

“What?” you say. Your voice sounds smaller than you wanted it to be.

“You don’t have to—” He smiles, and fuck he’s so beautiful, but something in that smile makes him look drained down to the last dregs. “Can we not talk?” 

Oh. Goddamn him. 

A memory rises up, sharp and sudden, searing as staring at the sun: you rubbing your wrists where the handcuffs had been, looking down at the red marks, Javi beside you, pressing the first of many cold beers to the bruise on your forehead because he didn’t have an ice pack. And his voice, as if from far away, saying I’m sorry, over and over. 

It wasn’t that bad, really, you would have said, if you’d been paying attention to him. But in that moment you were mostly trying to decide whether to stay or run.

I’m so sorry.

Javi’s eyes contain those echoes now, as his smile fades. 

A fierce protectiveness surges up in you: you want to shake him, you want to fuck him, you want to make him say all the shit he won’t ever say. 

You take his throat in your hand, instead. His Adam’s apple fits so good in the V between your thumb and forefinger. 

“You don’t have to talk,” you say. “But I do.”

Who does he think he is? He doesn’t get a monopoly on guilt because he never had a monopoly on power. It’s that simple. He carries the weight of the world on his back because his ego lets him think the world is his to carry. Come the fuck on. 

Somebody needs to teach him how to surrender, and it’s gonna be you.

“Javi,” you say, low.

He’s not looking at you properly, so you let go of his throat and then take hold of his jaw, surge up off the bed till he finally looks at you. In that moment, he looks almost frightened of you, in a way that has nothing to do with your hand. 

“You found me,” you say. “You saved me. You, and no one else. Fucking take it.” 

Oh, but he's always been a fighter. 

He lunges at you as if you’d said something else, something filthy, and you let him think he’s won for a second, let him think it’s only sex, let him press you into the mattress, opening your mouth to him and kissing him back fiercely. 

When he pulls away to get air, your hand is on his jaw again, your forehead against his once more, relentless. 

“I knew it would be you,” you say, “I knew you’d come for me. I held onto that for the fucking whole car ride. All night in the basement, handcuffed, with a bag over my head, waiting to see what would happen. I had nothing else, but I had that. Don’t tell me that’s nothing.”

Javi bursts out, like you’re hurting him, “If I hadn’t asked you—”

“I made my own choices. I make my own choices. Yes or no?”

“Yes,” he says, but defiant, face set like you’re in an interrogation room and he’s on the wrong side of the table. 

Jesus Christ, this man is so fucking stubborn. You’ve never been angrier with him, never cared for him more. 

“You think your cock is that good, Javier? Please. I would do a lot of shit for you, but I would never let a man override my own judgment, whether or not I—whether I gave a damn if he lived or died.” 

Ah, shit. The first part came out so good, and then that last part, that last part slipped out all by itself. You may as well have said you love him, which, maybe you do, so what if you do? It doesn’t need saying.

Up until that last part, Javi had been stonefaced, but when you cut yourself off and took a breath, something shifted. He’s listening to you now, properly.

You set yourself right and say, more steadily, “Anything I do, that’s on me. I make my own choices, yes or no?”

“Yes.” He says it quieter this time, quieter and truer. Close enough. You'll take it.

“Good.” You lift your hand to cup his sweat-damp cheek. His lashes dip, but he leans into it. When you press your finger just under his jaw, you can feel his carotid artery thumping away, and for a moment, that’s all there is, his heartbeat.

“And now,” you say evenly, so he won’t suspect how the sentence ends, “I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t even dream afterwards. Yeah?”

Javi bursts out laughing, at you and at himself, but his pulse quickens in anticipation just the same. You’re back. When he grins, he shows teeth, a challenge you're only too happy to take. You'll show him. You kiss it into him, first, right into his parted lips: no guilt, no shame, we can be good, baby. We can be so fucking good.

And you are.

#javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #narcos fanfic #narcos readerfic #mine #javier peña

[9r7g5h]

A Week of My Enigma - Puppies and Kits

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Boku no Hero Academia 

Rating: T

Genre: Gen/Fluff

AN: A week of Enigma Bakugou prompt fills. A direct follow up to 'Bitching.'

Words: 1922

Shoto would freely admit that, when Hanta had walked out leading the giant wolf hybrid that had claimed his precious Izuku, he had been skeptical.

Skeptical that they would actually get along well, despite the bond, if their way of greeting each other was to immediately start fighting, the beast growling and snarling and Izuku making noises Shoto, in all the years he’d had him, had never heard before. It’d been a week since he’d come to take Izuku home, the bitching process complete, and perhaps the connection the two had felt from the hormones and the heat had been just that, a temporary link brought on to breed, nothing more. Nothing like the life-long bonds he had done so much research into, that Hanta had told him so much about, partners in life for as long as at least one remained alive. It seemed more like they were about to tear each other apart, biting and scratching and trying to maul each other, nothing like he’d imagined.

He’d almost interfered, had pulled out the bottle of hybrid mace he’d brought just in case, only for Hanta to grab him, pulling him into a hug, stealing the mace and using his unfairly long limbs to hold it above him. “Chill, babe,” he’d chuckled, ignoring the dual-tone glare sent his way. “They’re just playing. Look closer: none of Bakugou’s bites are breaking skin, and Izuku’s got his claws sheathed. Give it a minute, they won’t hurt each other.”

It’d been almost annoying that Hanta turned out to be right, the two of them slowly calming down, growls and snarls turning into croons and stuttering purrs as the wolf finally pinned Izuku, the teeth he’d had half closed over his throat turning into a tongue bath over his neck, his chest, up to cover Izuku’s scrunched face. Even disgusted, now struggling against the wolf in an attempt to escape the forced grooming, it was clear Izuku was happier than he had been the week since Shoto had taken him home. Taken him home, cleaned off the last of the mess Hanta hadn’t been able to, a nice bath that had scrubbed off the last of the weird musk clinging to him, only to be met with a mess of a pet. While the previous alpha Izuku had been destructive, a bouncing mess that left paw prints the size of a fist in his walls, at least he’d smiled. Been happy and affectionate, cuddling in his lap and sneaking into bed between him and Hanta. But the new omega Izuku, after that bath, had been despondent, barely eating, only perking up earlier today when he’d mentioned going to the research facility.

Now, though, that previous smile was back, the same one that had gotten Shoto through the end of high school, through college and taking over his father’s business, only this time focused on someone else.

He wasn’t jealous. Just, Izuku was his baby; he’d raised him since he was a kit after his mother had left with her own rabbit Inko, forcing her to leave him behind, and there was a part of him that saw Izuku as the closest thing he’d actually get to having a child. He wasn’t jealous; he was protective. But if that wolf could bring out Izuku’s smile, he’d at least give him a chance.

He’d still been skeptical, though, over whether or not the wolf could get used to life outside of the research facility. He’d been born there, the only enigma born in captivity, and part of the reason why Shoto was allowed to take him was because of the bond and because of Hanta - if it wasn’t for them wanting to research what the enigma would do with a mate in the “wild,” and Hanta’s ability as a researcher to properly document everything, there would have been no way this would have worked. Otherwise, Shoto was sure he would have been stuck in a very long legal battle to keep them from taking Izuku, something he would have refused to let happen.

Thankfully, his property had been deemed good enough, and without any issues, once Izuku had been thoroughly groomed and once again stunk of that weird musk, the four of them had loaded up into his car to go home. He’d been surprised the wolf actually knew what a car was, that they arrived without the interior torn apart in a frenzy, but thankful, at least, that they all got there in one piece.

The house, on the other hand, took a while to get to that same point.

Whether it was the lack of things that smelled like him or the smell of the number of people coming in and out to fix what Izuku had initially broken, Shoto couldn’t be sure. Either way, the first few weeks were rough, dodging piss markings on the wall he made Hanta clean up and bite marks very much aimed to land, unlike the ones he directed towards Izuku when they play-fought. Outside the yard had been dug up, his perfectly maintained grass and flowers torn apart and turned into a field of destruction, some of Izuku’s obstacle courses caught in the crossfire. Another thing he made Hanta fix, considering the entire reason he had Izuki bitched in the first place was to reduce the amount of property damage, not just give it another form.

“Bakubro just needs some time to settle in,” Hanta had promised, wiping away the sweat from his forehead and leaving behind a smear of dirt instead. “Once he does, it’ll be great, I promise. And yes, I’ll replace your peonies.”

Again, Hanta had been right. It took a few weeks, a few long conversations that Katsuki looked like he was ignoring, refusing to look at them or write on the pad of paper they’d provided him with, but soon enough it all seemed to pass. The scent markings were minimal, he and Izuku kept their weird, destructive play-fights that more often than not ended in something that led to Shoto being glad there were so many large bushes he couldn’t see the other side of outside, and he even cooled down towards the humans. Still growled whenever someone got too close to him, baring his teeth whenever someone refused to back down, but he tolerated them. Shoto could get his bunny cuddles once again without fearing the wolf would kill him in his sleep, even if his glare wanted to promise some kind of bodily harm. More bark than bite, Shoto was learning; still dangerous, but approachable, if you knew how.

Still, though, Shoto had been skeptical that the enigma wolf hybrid would be able to be a good mate and sire. When Izuku’s stomach had started to swell, his diet leaning more towards the human foods Shoto only gave as treats, demanding nothing else but the carrot cakes and pancakes and crepes, Hanta had been able to confirm that the first heat a month ago had taken. Couldn’t tell if they were pups or kits or something else yet, just that Izuku was pregnant, and Shoto was going to be a granddad. But would Katsuki be a good sire?

Hanta didn’t need to say anything for Katsuki to prove Shoto wrong. It was strange, seeing the wolf visibly soften when they told him the news, tail wagging fast enough to knock a cup from the end table he’d been standing near. He’d never seen even an alpha on their knees before, but the enigma had been happy to fall to them before Izuku, his face pressing hard against the slight swell of his belly, clawed hands bunching the shirt they’d dressed Izuku in before leaving the house to use it to draw him closer.

It was a profoundly private moment, yet still part of Shoto wished he could understand whatever language the hybrids spoke, could know what the little chirps and croons and purrs that passed between the two meant. Perhaps for the best he couldn’t, though, if the blush that soon enough spread across both hybrid’s faces, accompanied by Bakugou’s smirk, gave him an idea.

He continued to prove himself as Izuku’s stomach continued to grow, Hanta’s best guess that they had another two months to set everything up getting them all in gear. Buying supplies, organizing it all, setting up the nursery and nest over and over and over until Izuku was finally happy with the result. Not once did the enigma falter, following every demand and order given, even going out of his way and following some level of instincts they didn’t know to comfort Izuku, readying their home for the first addition to their family.

An addition that came sooner than they expected, Katsuki guarding the closet door where Izuku had made his makeshift nest, Hanta trying to talk some sense into the wolf hybrid that they were there to help, there was no danger, all they had to do was make sure he and their children were ok. Whether or not they were understood, or if the distressed sounds and smells coming from behind him overran any and everything Hanta was trying to do, Shoto wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Katsuki was scared, was defending his mate, and needed help. Help the enigma never asked for, had never asked for in the short amount of time they’d known each other, but help he had to accept.

“Bakugou,” he said softly, hands out, showing there was nothing he could do to harm them. “I love him too. Let us help him.”

A long moment, Katsuki leaning forward, his teeth closing over Shoto’s wrist, sharp and dangerous and promising an injury he wouldn’t be able to recover from. Only for Katsuki to release him a moment later, moving to the side with a whine, letting them pass.

Shoto almost cried when, a few hours later, Hanta handed him the first kit, small and blond and blind, little rabbit legs kicking out while its human-like hands tried to rub at its face. The little thing squalled in his arms as he carefully wiped away from the mess, freeing its floppy ears from the gunk that had kept them plastered to its skin, the worst of it gone before he handed it over to the impatiently waiting Katsuki to finish grooming. A process repeated not too long later, the tiny little green wolf quieter than their sibling, though their eyes open and red and blinking sleeping up at him, a sight that did make him sob when he had to turn them over.

Any skepticism Shoto might have had left against Bakugou was gone by the time the wolf grabbed him, chuffed him on the forehead with his chin (scenting you, a little voice that reminded him of Hanta supplied, marking you as pack) and settled him on the other side of Izuku, letting him stare down at his grandchildren. Not in blood or species, but the closest thing to a family he had, now a little bit bigger.

So if asked, Shoto would say he had been suspicious, yes, but thankfully his now husband had reassured him many times that the enigma could be trusted, and the wolf had proved himself over and over again. Two things Shoto was glad for, his house full of furry little grandchildren, something he was more than happy with.

Something Izuku and Katsuki were grateful for too, curled up in their nest, fulfilling their promises of keeping each other forever.

[END]

If there are any questions/requests, I have a Curious Cat and a Retrospring! :3

curiouscat.live/9r7g5h

retrospring.net/@9r7g5h

And if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-fi! :3c Tips are appreciated! Comms are open, so if you're interested, info is on my Ko-fi page.  

Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/9r7g5h

#the 9 one queues it #fanfic #bakudeku #bkdk #mha #bnha #my hero academia #fanfiction #izuku midoriya #katsudeku #bakugou katsuki #omegaverse #omega midoriya #enigma bakugou #SeRoki #sero hanta #shouto todoroki #Mpreg

[x-authorship-x]

your shisui pairings have me so excited for the real ship and shisui is so crush-able (crush as in like-love 🙈) can you tell us what/how everyone woild think of him like that? Validation for shisui please haha

Shisui is extremely...crushable... 😅

Also you've really done it now, Anon, because I can talk for hours about Shisui as a character but LOVING Shisui? It is my fandom-given CALLING

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned something like this in an A/N somewhere before, maybe in my College AU Squad2polyromcom (and murder mystery), but I'll do it again anyway

So *cracks fingers* it's time to make you love every Shisui Ship combo

Let's start of with the Squad:

Kakashi: oh god he's feeling an emotion. He didn't sign up for this, the Icha Icha isn't even helping distract him because Shisui just thinks it's funny and he's laughing with those dimples and rolling his pretty eyes and ignoring the filthy looks everyone is shooting them. And it's terrifyingly easy to image an honest-to-kami life like this, not just the vague blurry impression of remaining alive between missions, because Shisui is easy. He understands and he pushes but knows when to stop, he quirks sardonic smiles at Kakashi's fucked up humour and he never resents Kakashi for the things he can't give up, like his mask and his borrowed habits and his guilt. He survives Kakashi being, well, Kakashi- and he doesn't just survive it, he seeks him out, he seems to enjoy Kakashi, and- Shisui is strong and fast, all won through skill, but with an ace up his sleeve from the unfathomable power behind those eyes. Kakashi... has been saved by Shisui more times than he's had to do the converse and it's... Comforting. That Shisui isn't looking to Kakashi, Kakashi who is so broken and has mishandled so many things, to fix it, to guide. He follows Kakashi like an equal, waiting but never demanding, and Kakashi... breathes. That's what makes it so terrifying; that being with Shisui is, for the first time in Kakashi's life, so much easier than being without him.

Raidou: Meeting Shisui had been... A trip. Here was this rising star of an already legendary Clan, someone with genius and achievements to rival Hatake Kakashi - and Raidou knew first-hand what a dick he could be - and the ANBU higher-ups thought it was a good idea to match him in a team with a minor-clan assassin and a civ-born 'doorman'. Brilliant. Raidou would admit he'd been braced for the worst, defensive and professional and wary of dramatics. And it sounded so cliche and uncomfortable - if Raidou ever got around to admitting as much out loud - that Shisui just wasn't like that. His smiles were genuine, even at the start when Raidou brushed him off with barely-concealed suspicion, and the admiration for Raidou's jack-of-all, patchworked skillset wasn't concealing distain or condescension. It took time for Raidou to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, longer than many of their fellow Shinobi would've had the patience for, but... They grew closer. There were things Shisui, raised in the centre of a historic Clan and so far ahead of his peers, didn't even consider; he asked why Raidou clung to the Konohan Standard Taijutsu, forgetting that it was all Raidou had ever had the opportunity to learn, and then, when the reason was pointed out, he blushed a mortified red and spent the next few months helping - with aid from his Sharingan - Raidou put his own flare on it. He didn't know why Raidou loathed bloodstains on his uniform, because Shisui's Clan sorted their own laundry whilst Raidou had to soak and scrub his own. He told Raidou the extensive history of the Uchiha that he'd been drilled in as a child... And then listened, dark eyes gleaming and intently focused on Raidou's face, as the other plucked at the inconsistencies and pondered over truth and bias. Shisui had been raised, no matter how sweet and earnest he was as a person, from privilege - rich in history and wealth and with an advantage as a Shinobi but... With no childhood, no simplicity, such little choice, and maybe Raidou was learning things about himself too - but he never looked at Raidou like he was less. Their Squad was chaotic, with Kakashi and Genma and Tenzo - although the latter was unwittingly complicit so much of the time - and Raidou caught Shisui's laughing gaze as the two of them looked on. Something shared zapped between them, an understanding and a knowing, and it was suddenly they who were united against the world. And maybe it was hopeless and messy and nothing more than a stolen moment like this, maybe Raidou - the civilian born boy with a scar on his face like a stamp of his shortcomings - had finally grown too big for his boots because - he wanted. Kami, how he let himself want.

Genma: Genma was a lot of things but a coward wasn't one of them. It was a point of pride, in fact, since assassins were so often viewed as the dirtiest in their world, killers who lacked the strength for a straight fight and who lacked the courage to show themselves from the shadows... Idiots, all of them. They were Shinobi, not samurai, and Genma's hands were only as dirty as his fellow Elites, maybe even less so. He didn't hide what he was, the lengths he went to in the name of his village and people, and he didn't waste time hurling playground slurs when he could be getting the job done. Being in a Squad with others who understood that...was, frankly, a small miracle. Kakashi was as fucking professional as they came - discounting his rampant, off-the-clock instability, but Genma was to blame for some of that so he wasn't gonna say shit - and Raidou was his partner in crime. They'd failed Minato, and they'd failed together - there was a bond there, of knowing and guilt that they'd never shake free of, and it was there to stay. Tenzo... Was fucked up in a different way but he kept going and Genma admired his guts, even more than his impressive skills. And then... Shisui. Genma had pissed off a lot of people in his life, civilians and Shinobi both, but Shisui was the last person Genma wanted to mess with. Kakashi was constantly prickly, so prodding harder didn't usually amount to anything but a sour mood and a swipe, and Raidou ditched him for a bit if Genma pressed too hard in his direction; Tenzo was a kicked puppy and even Genma had standards. But Shisui? Shisui just fucking took it. He laughed and complained and didn't move an inch. He deflected, blushing mottled red where he'd once been miles of perfect skin, and he hissed and bickered and he went precisely nowhere. He was light and friendly and patience and earnest... And ruthless. He was death so fast that the eyes couldn't even follow him, he was blood dripping from a tantō edge and the nightmare presence watching over them all, ready in a heartbeat to whisk them away from certain death. He looked at Genma, dark eyes burning even without the Sharingan, and plotted their assassination without censure and he never shied from either of their own darkness. Genma had lost his mother and sister the night he'd failed to protect Minato, he'd gathered a second family of friends around him but these things were never permanent... But Shisui... He was an expert at Permanent. He'd been a kid when he'd planted himself protectively in front of his kid cousin and he'd not moved a muscle since. He'd been in ANBU only a few years shorter than Kakashi and he'd sworn, with the rest of them, not to leave until he did... And he'd stayed strong to that, not just suffering through but staying alive-alive. And his eyes- Genma played with people because it was better than risking himself and fucking up for real. And he played with Shisui more than he'd ever done with anyone, pushing harder when Shisui did nothing to put space between them, push and push and- it was vulnerable in its own way. Because Genma hoped, somewhat desperately where no one could ever find out about, that there wasn't a limit. That Shisui, fastest Shinobi alive, would stay put.

Tenzo: this might be a little briefer but I feel like I've covered these two a bit more than the others (namely, the ship ficlet in And All The Stars Seemed Closer) but: Shisui was always there. Tenzo's whole life had been beyond his own control, he had been a tool forged outside of his own making and, when he was free, Tenzo was...untethered. Shisui, in a strange way, was as familiar to Tenzo as much as he was foreign; he'd been raised for the will of the Uchiha Elders, errand boy and then pawn and, now, soldier. But he'd kept a hold of himself, rebelled in small ways and smuggled Hsi cousins away for dango instead of the promised training, had bypassed the clan guards to sneak Kakashi to an old Uchiha healer to ensure his eye wouldn't become infected, had ignored summons from the Elders only to claim that he never received them. It was little things that combined into a larger picture and Tenzo, who had been gagged and leashed his whole life, knew nothing except that he wanted Shisui to teach him how to live like that. And Shisui had. They went for dinner and ate dessert beforehand, they lay in fields and Tenzo was coaxed into picturing the most interesting shapes formed by the clouds, Shisui's shoulder a source of warmth where he lay so close by. He taught Tenzo to smile again, small but organic, and he soothed him through panic-stricken tears. And Tenzo didn't know a lot still, even less so about how to negotiate with the tangle of emotions lodged deep in his sternum, but this felt... Different to Kakashi-senpai and Genma and Raidou. It was companionship and admiration and gratitude and hope and- the urge to reach out and feel the curl of that dimpled smile for himself. It was knowing, with a shuddery warmth so different but also the same as a patch of sunlight, that these discoveries wouldn't be the same if Tenzo didn't do them with Shisui. And that was something to discover in itself.

🥹

Others: there are more ships but, since quite a lot of context is based off HOPE AU, several characters haven't been introduced yet so idk if they'd do anything for you guys?

Kisame: I literally just posted a Soulmate Prompt and also he's had a lot of limelight in UDB so I cba 😅 BUT we're talking star crossed, they've both been betrayed but Shisui fought back and stayed loyal whilst Kisame fled and has found new purpose thanks to Shisui, we're talking Shisui sees Konohan loyalty in Kisame and Kisame appreciates the Kiri viciousness in Shisui, they are ride or die and Kisame wonders how far Shisui will let him in, what would happen if he pressed even closer... If he kept following wherever Shisui led...

Shizune: Shizune was raised on stories that both loved and loathed Konoha. Having met Shunshin no Shisui, the man who had been thrown into the very depths of the village's rotten core and somehow torn both himself free and revealed the perpetrator, Shizune would admit to being...curious about the Konoha that inspired such devotion. That Shisui was sharp, dark eyes made liquid in the firelight, and could meet her remark for remark, well. Shizune couldn't help but wonder, as he pushed forwards to breathe his counter argument so close to her mouth, what being the focus of the loyalty of a man like Shisui would feel like.

Anko: it's a hate crush. He's pretty and perfect and she knows he's fucked up but people don't seem to realise it, they haven't seen shisui tear into someone in an interrogation cell and they haven't seen the angry furrow to his mouth in an argument and they haven't tasted the tang of blood on his teeth when words didn't cut it and kissing the stupidity out of him was the only option. Frankly, anko didn't want anyone else to know any of that either.

Asuma: see my Shisui/Asuma marriage ask prompt from earlier, it's better than I could convey here.

Gai: There were few people who could meet Gai and match him blow for blow, fewer still who could continue to do so on a regular basis, and even less who would take such genuine pleasure in such a routine. Gai was not a man to conceal truth from himself, he faced challenges every single day and knew that the genuineness of his effort was bettering him, even if the projects themselves were no further forward. Befriending Kakashi had been akin to approaching a wounded, feral animal - and, indeed, it remained a worthwhile but troubled dynamic - whilst befriending his Genin teammates had been a lesson in moderation and humility. Genma and Ebisu were people different from himself but fundamentally akin, enough for fondness to form but not for the ease of close companionship; Gai loved and valued them but he was under no illusions that they would ever have been extremely closely knit in their personal lives. Meeting Shunshin no Shisui, however, had been...illuminating; he had sought Gai out first. He wanted to train and knew that such improvement required an extremely dedicated partner... In Shisui's eyes, that could only mean Gai. He'd been frank in his reasoning, gratified instead of disconcerted by the suggestions Gai had immediately launched into, and he'd been shockingly warm when he'd held Gai's hand between his own as he thanked him. They'd met and it had been... Revitalizing. Gai, with no one but Kakashi able to keep up these days, hadn't realised how much he'd missed having an equal. Shisui was admiring whenever he was bested, determined as much as good natured, and he continued so as the days passed. Gai's luck did not wear out; Shisui kept matching him. And, more than that, it wasn't a secret. Gai had instinctively called out a greeting to him, when he'd spotted Shisui in the marketplace whilst completing his handstand laps, only for Shisui to laugh - joyfully, never meanly - at the sight of him and shout that he'd see him at the usual time, uncaring for the disbelieving gawking going on around him. Gai had learned, from his sensitive boyhood to his emotionally-intelligent but matured adulthood now, to allow the negatives of those around him to wash over him and not linger, something his peers struggled with. Shisui, one of the most notorious Uchiha, seemed to have similarly mastered this skill. He didn't shy from Gai or attempt to tone him down. He didn't fade away or lose interest. He matched Gai, move for move, and Gai was determined to take another step forwards!

Ao: PFFFFT-

Just a little something-something to make the shipping worse~

Anyway, hope you enjoy this, anon 👋✨

#torship #torship talks #ask #anon #hope au #shisui/kakashi #shisui/raidou #shisui/genma #shisui/tenzo #shisui/kisame #shisui/shizune #shisui/gai #shisui/anko #shisui/asuma #shisui shipping

[limetimo]

RAB FICS I READ (JUNE pt2)

The Mystery of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place by altaiswrites time travel, harry hops to the 70s, Harry/Regulus

Just Different, Apparently by risetherivermoon (moonriverrise) super cute jegulus meet cute!!!!!!

i fell hard (in your arms tonight) by grimstars touched starved regulus in jegulus

by the milk-light of moon by dalula for just_a_whorecrux sirius/regulus PWP

The Left Right Game by grimstars a horror story, I read the first chapter and realised that I'm not in a good place for psycho stuff but the writing is really good so if you're into horror, go for it

The Day Bleeds Into Nightfall by acari regulus revenge-fucks james before going to the cave

Butterflies by xpandorasbox texting au jegulus

Running Away From The House of Black the Slytherin Way by Melancholy_Pug what it says on the tin, future jegulus

carpe diem by els31 modern au doctor regulus jegulus

Paper Rings by apricusapollo jegulus love is for poets by arainai (alarainai) for aureusprongs lowkey angsty jegulus with good ending

paint it black by damagecontrol MAFIA AU very nice

Lead The Way by thissucks Sirius suddenly finds himself Regulus' guardian. Everybody agrees that regulus will eat sirius alive. loving the bartylus

Rich Kid, Asshole (Paint Me as a Villain) by Loki_Demon this is so good, regulus is such an entitled little asshat who goes down with his hubris i would fistfight him in a tesco parking lot

The Long Game by lackadaisical_lizard artist reg jock james jegulus

the deadly seven by remusjlupin1981 regulus had a son, dropped him off on narcissa's doorstep and fucked off to hunt horcruxes. things are not fun

Home is not a place by regulusarchieblack (AlRiddle) for coincidences accidental choild adoption

on behalf of the good dark regulus reborn as draco, a series

Drugs and surgical scrubs by anauro doctor regulus ends up with a stabbed drug addict james on his couch. he's not happy about it but at least the guy is hot

After Everything, Always by Reggie4dayzz jegulus

Empire by Saphireraven13 regulus is alive and married and has 4 kids and it's a crossover and i dont know the other fandom, so.

grievance and dirt. by anonymoussqaure black bros

Basic Instinct by ilios28 bartylus! also reg murdered his parents, love that for him

could we pretend (this won't end?) by a_sentimental_man for queerofthedagger harry/regulus, regulus accidentally travels forward in time

Auror Academy - the class of 1979 by Regulus_Potter ♥♥♥ jegulus slowburn, reguls lily friendship

Grimmauld's Home for Unsafe Learners by averea ♥♥♥♥♥ Regulus is potion master instead of snape and by god he will offer a sanctuary to all students with bad homes dumbledore can shut his whore mouth

love sticks, sweat drips by riomariyn fight club? jegulus

do you have a best friend? by coincidences for regulusarchieblack (AlRiddle) regulus and his daughter move to hogsmeade and become astronomy professors, v cute

this is me trying by witchhunts regulus dies and travels back to his younger body

Regulus Black vs Dish Washing by writer_of_sorts recovering after war fic v neato

Fall, Drown, Reborn by melanie_bxx jegulus and smut and uuuh regulus almost dying

The Strange Serendipity of Regulus Arcturus Black by shy_attention_whore reg dies wakes up eleven

if you think you can save me by dxncingquxxr regulus survives, is astronomy professor

The Paths We Take by nagemeikenu  detective lily goes searching for missing regulus (1940s au)

What It Cost by Anonymous regulus keeps surviving for harry

The Gringotts Job by TheWomanInGreen heist time, baby, or reg sirius marlene james and lily stealing the cup

Prawns by wandering_thought "my animagus will be better than your animagus"

Bonding In Different Directions by nagemeikenu regulus trains horses, sirus is an actor, they meet on a job

enough contrition to spare by xslytherclawx for quandrix_quizard regulus goes to dumbledore, it sucks, but he's alive, so.

orn of Blood by Moe64 percy jackson au jeglus wolfstar ect ect

I Will Not be Brave by TheWomanInGreen regulus fucks up and is captured by DEs and shares a cell with Marlene and later, JAmes

No Love for the Wicked by VigilanteVampire4311 harry gets yot to a version of past where tom riddle is a dada prof. this version of regulus is so funny to me

Somebody to Love by Graceless_Lady for KaiSkitty Regulus/Lily

a red 'happy birthday papa!' lego cake by sunburnt (orphan_account) cute

okay, who brought back the damned legos? by sunburnt cute jegulus raising harry

hope is the thing with antlers by stardiver jegulus

all i want for christmas is you by lemndrps toxic bartylus MCD

#fic rec #regulus black

[ladylilithprime]

You Don't Need A Nightingale

Series: Fluffy Faerie Tales

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sastimmy/Jamstiel (Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester/Castiel)

Rating: General to Teen and Up

Tags/Warnings: Half-Fae Sam Winchester, Jimmy and Castiel Are Twins, Selkie Jack Kline, Sam Winchester Is Jack Kline's Adopted Father, Brief Allusions to Canon-Typical Violence, Alicorns Are Flesh-Eaters, Dean Is An Aggressive Worrywart, High-Masking Autistic Jimmy, High Functioning Autistic Castiel and Jimmy

Summary: In the aftermath of the alicorn invasion, Sam is determined to get back to work as soon as possible despite his injury. This does not make his boyfriends feel better about him getting hurt in the first place.

For: @fluffyfebruary challenge!

Prompt: Day 7: Recovery

Read on AO3

ARE YOU SURE that you should be on your feet already?" Jimmy asked for the fifth time, practically vibrating in place as he tried to hover nearby without actually hovering. It was a balance that was hard to maintain, but even though the desire to take care of Sam in his injured state was almost overpowering, the last thing he wanted to do was be so annoying that Sam told him to go away like he had his own brother. Admittedly, Dean's reaction to Sam's injury had been terrifying, and had left Jimmy and Cas, who already felt horribly guilty over it, fearing retaliation from the older half-fae prince. Sam had not been happy with his brother's expression of temper.

"If I don't get up and walk around every now and then, I would go stir crazy," Sam said patiently, just as he had the last four times, smiling softly at Jimmy. "And a week is about as long as I can stand without checking in on my domain in person. I understand and appreciate the concern, but I do know my limits. I'll sit down when I need to and let you, Cas and Charlie handle any heavy lifting if you will let me take orders and mix drinks."

"You'll take extra breaks?"

"I will take as many breaks as I need when I need them, you have my word," Sam promised. Jimmy frowned, noticing the evasive wording in the answer, but nodded reluctantly. That really was the best he was going to get, and even he recognized that trying to coddle a fourteen-hundred-year-old former Seelie general over a battle injury was a bit much.

"The boss really does know his limits," Charlie chimed in as she hauled a bag of ice up to the cooler under the counter. "Three years ago this manticore got loose over in the marshlands across from Whale Harbor? His Steel Highness was out there with Balt and Donny and the naiads catching the damn thing and protecting the kelpie nests. Came back with a dislocated shoulder and a broken ankle where the manticore managed to get him with its stinger. He took two days off and was back the third day. Cursed all three entitled assholes who tried to scold him for sitting down at work and still managed to keep up with the afternoon rush."

"I know in my head that Sam can handle this," Jimmy said, scrubbing a hand back through his hair before absently finger combing it back into place. "It's just..."

"Your heart taking a bit longer to accept it because he's your boyfriend and him getting injured like that scared you?" Charlie guessed, a sympathetic look on her face.

"And the guilt because he got injured standing between me and Cas and the alicorns," Jimmy admitted, looking down at the floor. That was the part that was sending Cas nonverbal and hiding in the kitchen kneading bread with aggressive focus. Sam refused to blame either of them for having been trapped out when the alicorns descended on the town, and Jack spent almost as much time clinging to them as he did to Sam in the aftermath, but that didn't stop them from blaming themselves.

Especially not after Dean had yelled at them and Sam had kicked his brother out for it.

"Hey," Charlie said, one hand hovering questioningly over his shoulder until Jimmy gave a short nod of permission to touch. "He's alive, he killed the alicorn that got him like a badass, and if I know the boss he's much happier being injured if it means you and Cas aren't dead. His side will heal and he got to claim the remains of the six alicorns he killed while defending you." She frowned and twisted around to look at Sam. "Hey, what're you gonna do with those, anyway?"

"I considered mounting the hornless head of the one that impaled me as a trophy, but it wouldn't go with the cafe's aesthetic," Sam deadpanned, making Jimmy choke and Charlie laugh. More seriously, he added, "The parts that can be rendered down into safely consumable ingredients will be, and I have some plans for the hides, manes and tails that I would rather not discuss until I can talk to some people. Tasha and Rowena will be given first refusal on trade for the bones, otherwise there's a stitchwitch I know down near DC who would appreciate an alicorn bone needle set in exchange for her efforts on a commission. The rest will be sold for market value to help pay medical costs for everyone injured in the attack."

"What's the bet we'll have PETA fans griping at us about the Unicorn Berry Latte being made with 'actual unicorn'?" Charlie sighed.

"No bet," Sam and Jimmy chorused.

#fluffy february 2024 #rk writes #urban fantasy au #sastimmy #sam winchester #jimmy novak #charlie bradbury

[handsofred]

I think I know you

@badthingshappenbingo

Bad things happen bingo prompt: Memory Loss

Read on AO3

Rating: Teen and upwards Archive Warnings: No Archive warnings apply Fandoms: Teen Wolf Categories: M/M Relationships: Derek Hale / Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Erica Reyes, Talia Hale, Sheriff Stilinski, Orginal child of Stiles Stilinski, Additional Tags: Memory loss, Car accident, Actor Derek Hale, Single father Stiles, Hurt Stiles, Hurt Derek, Human AU, Derek and Stiles was once friends, Alive Hales,

-

He wakes in stages.

Pain and bright lights greet him as he chokes as something is removed from his throat. 

He hears the voices being spoken above him, but he doesn’t take anything in as blackness draws him back down in to the peaceful abyss again.

Each time his eyes come to open, the light is different, shadows coating the walls differently. 

Faces appear above him, both male and female. Some shine lights in to his eyes, asking him things that he must murmur to since they nod and go away again. 

By the time he is waking up for longer than a few seconds at a time, his body is telling him that something is wrong, pain radiates through him from different parts. Doctors fill his room and he knows they are doctors because of their scrubs and white coats. They carry charts and medical instruments as they gather around his bed. He can see people hovering around the edges of the room and at the door peering in, trying to catch a glance at him. It makes him frown before he turns back to the doctors when they talk to him, ask him questions.

He knows that he is worrying them with some of his answers with the way they pause and share looks between each other. Whatever it is, it clearly isn’t matching up with what they want the answers to be.

Read more on AO3

#stiles stilinski #derek hale #handsofred #sterek #ao3 #fic #teen wolf #writing #bad things happen bingo

[rainontherooftops]

Petrichor - Part 1 of ?

Summary: Pero Tovar is not very impressed by the arrival of the new counselor at his nursing home. He has to take care of his elderly patients and has no time to make sure that the new hire doesn't fuck up. But soon he will have to learn that his new colleague is not intimidated by his grumpyness.

Fandom: The Great Wall - Pedro Pascal as MODERN! Pero Tovar Genre: Romance, Colleagues to Friends to Lovers, Drama, Alternative Universe, 18+ Content Pairing: Modern! Pero Tovar x f!OC Triggers (Chapter): Mentions of Sickness, Workplace Drama Rating Chapter: T

IMPORTANT INFO: THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY FORMER TUMBLR BLOG

**

Petrichor - Part 1

Pero was grumpier than usual, watching the woman that William was talking to by the coffee machine right before the staff meeting started.

He was always weary of new arrivals, having been underwhelmed by too many people who just couldn’t cope with the work at the care facility for the elderly. She seemed utterly unprepared for a job here. She was not wearing scrubs, for one thing, so she couldn’t be one of the nurses.

Was William hitting on her before the meeting started? Because the woman wasn’t even cute. At all.

He wouldn’t be distracted by the flowery skirt, the thick thighs that were probably rubbing against each other when she walked around, or the cheeks that would surely turn red like ripe apples when he’d pinch them.

And she was so tiny. Were he to step up to her, she would probably be faced with his chest. She would have to look up at him with those doe like eyes. And her hands were tiny as well! And her hair was blonde, but with cotton candy pastel color strands in almost every color… How did colored hair look that natural on her?

Seriously, what did William see in that woman?

“Good morning, everyone!”

Crossing his arms across his chest, Pero focused his attention to Mrs. Hawthorne, the care home director.

“Just a quick update from the night shift. Everything is fine with our residents, nothing out of the ordinary. We’ll begin with breakfast first thing. Nurses in Wing B, please double check the medication list, there have been some changes over the last few days due to the new treatments.”

Business as usual it seemed.

“… and before I let you all get to work, I’m sure you all wondering who the young woman in the back is that is dressed like a rainbow.”

Everyone stopped staring in secret and turned their heads to the woman who was still standing next to Will, a coffee mug clutched in her hand.

“Would you like to introduce yourself, Amelia?”, Mrs. Hawthorne said, coercing her to come to the front.

She handed her coffee mug to William, who gave her an encouraging smile.

“G-Good morning everyone. My name is Amelia Banks. I’m the new counselor for the residents here, but I’m also here to listen to any problems or concerns you might have.”

Mrs. Hawthorne took over again, effectively interrupting her.

“Amelia will officially start her work in two weeks, but she’ll be helping out with everyday chores to get to know our residents and all of you, so be nice to her.”

Welcoming murmurs and curious stares were shared. The woman looked fresh and untainted by the working-class world; it was impossible to guess her age. And she had an awfully innocent and chipper aura about herself.

They’ll all eat her alive, Pero thought, sure that this thought was true for both the residents and her new colleagues.

“… and that’s why you’ll be working with Pero for the next week, Amelia. That’s the mean looking bloke over there.”

Wait, what?

“What?”

William, the bastard, chuckled.

“You’re always whining about how you don’t have enough help, Pero, so Amelia will help you on your rounds.”

He wanted to protest. He wanted to protest so badly.

But Hawthorne dismissed everyone, and it was impossible to object. William had the audacity to clap him on the back walking out, wishing him good luck. He would have his hands full today in Wing B with the new medication routine, so they probably wouldn’t see each other all day. “Be nice to her”, he said, knowing fully well that his friend was grumpy.

For his sake he would try. But he didn’t make any promises.

By the time Amelia managed to wiggle her way through the mob of busy people who were exiting the meeting room, he was annoyed. He had to get going.

“Hello, I’m Amelia. I’ll be in your care for this week”, she introduced herself, smiling. His eyebrows furrowed and he grunted, something that sounded like ‘sure’.

“Follow me”, he ordered, not even checking if she was on his heels. The faster she learned that he was busy, the better.

“I don’t have time to babysit you”, he said, turning down the hall.

Hurrying through the main foyer, the two of them took the entrance to Wing A, where the long-term residents were living.

“The twenty people in this wing are under my care. Normally William is with us, but we’re short staffed so he’s taking care of B until we have a new nurse.”

He could feel that she was trying to keep up with him. At least she wasn’t wearing heels.

He opened the first door to the right, the nurses station, which also served as his break room and the storage for the wing. He grabbed one of the trolleys and opened the cabinets before turning to her.

She was watching him attentively, ready to soak in information like a sponge.

“Ground rules”, he almost barked.

“You get my patients upset, you’re out. You don’t follow my instructions, you’re out. You complain about anything you see, hear or smell, you’re out. You do the job and we won’t have a problem. Clear?”

“Yes?”, she said, a little high pitched, but ready.

He sighed, turning to the cabinets.

“First job of the day, room checks. Right now our residents are having breakfast. Night shift says everything is fine, which means that they left us with the mess, and we have to clean up. We’re handing out medication, we’re changing sheets, towels and we prepare our residents for the day.”

As patient as possible, he showed her how he liked to stack his trolleys with fresh sheets and towels, medical supplies and everything else he might need.

“If I don’t have something on the trolley I need, you’ll find it in here. I’ll manage medication, you don’t touch those, understand.”

“Understood”, she said.

“Let’s go. Keep up. I’m putting you on trash duty.”

He didn’t even explain what trash duty was, he just shoved a huge trash bag into her hand and was out the door, shoving the trolley in front of him.

It was 7:30 A.M. and there was noise coming from every room on the floor. They got into the elevator and he explained that they would deal with the residents on the first floor first and work their way back down.

The right side of the hall was the outside wall of the building, covered in glass to give the residents the chance to look outside onto the grounds whenever they wanted. But today there was not much to see yet but the rain that was drumming against the windows.

“First stop. Behave yourself,” he ordered, before entering the room.

***

Amelia had been following her new co-worker for all of 10 minutes and she was already exhausted and full of information.

She had hoped that her first impression of him was wrong, but his grumpy exterior was the perfect mirror to his personality. He was curt, obviously annoyed that they had shoved the “new one” into his path and he was looking at her like she was totally out of place.

She was clutching the trash bag and entered behind him into the room of the first resident. The rooms were functional and not very big, but comfortable. They were all furnished the same as far as the medical beds and basic furniture was concerned – but she would soon learn that friends and family had brought different trinkets to make the residents rooms individual heavens.

“Morning, Pete. How you doin’ today?”

Amelia’s eyes widened in surprise. A second ago, Pero Tovar had been a grumpy, rude man – now he was chatting happily with a resident, a freakin’ smile on his face. He was sporting dimples on his face. Fucking adorable dimples, for heaven’s sake.

“Is it my birthday? Who’s the pretty young lady you brought me?”

Peter Kline was a man in his eighties. He was sitting at a little table, having his breakfast. He was wearing a pair of cotton pants and a sweater, his full, white beard covering half of his face.

“Sorry, Pete, she’s with me. New counselor”, he said, looking at a clipboard.

“Good morning”, she said, smiling at him and earning a warm smile in return.

“Good morning, sweetheart. If this one gives you any trouble, you make sure to tell me, alright?”

Pero rolled his eyes and then had a serious look at his patient.

“How was your night Pete? You look good today.”

“No episodes tonight, thank fuck”, the old man replied. “No horrible dreams, no need to change my sheets today.”

“The new medication working okay then?”

“Knocks me out flat for eight hours straight. No side effects so far.”

Pero seemed satisfied and handed the man his blood pressure medication.

“See you later, Pete.”

For the next two hours it went one similar to this.

Amelia helped Pero change spoiled bedsheets, put dirty towels in the hamper in the hallway, helped dressing residents for the day who were not able to dress themselves and picked up trash from the rooms that had not made it to the trash cans.

She met the residents one by one, secretly keeping notes in her head about the people who would probably need weekly counseling sessions.

Everything went well – so well even that Amelia went ahead to open the door for Pero at the last residents door – and promptly got hit by an aluminum bed pan on the forehead.

“Oh shit. Walter?! What did I tell you about throwing your bed pan across the room?!”

Amelia sat on the floor, dizzy. She had fallen onto her butt and pressed her hand to her forehead, where a bump was forming.

“Who’s the wench? I don’t know her!”

“Urgh… I’ll deal with you in a minute Walter. Behave!”

Pero closed the door again and Amelia saw him getting on his knees, gently getting her head out of the way.

“Sorry, should have warned you about him. You okay?”

The look on his face was almost concerned.

“I’m fine, I think. Just a bit dizzy.”

Pero helped her to her feet and led her to the break room again, sitting her down on his bunk.

“Ice pack”, he said, handing her the blue plastic bag so she could cool her head.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,” she answered, sighing contently as the blue cooling packed touched her bump.

Pero opened a small fridge in the corner, opened a bottle of water and made her drink in small sips.

Only then did she notice the smell and looked down on herself. Her white t-shirt was not white anymore.

“Oh… That bed pan was not empty,” she said, sighing. Working with elderly patients, she had expected to be met with all kinds of fluids – just not on her first day.

“You don’t have a shirt I can borrow, by any chance?”, she asked, standing up – and promptly reaching out to him to not fall onto the floor.

“Whoa, easy there. You sure you’re okay?”

She took a few deep breaths to steady herself, then nodded.

“Just a small dizzy spell. I’ll be fine.”

She tried to ignore the blush that was creeping up her neck, as she realized that they were very close indeed.

He guided her back to the bunk, opened a cupboard and handed her a dark blue shirt.

“There’s a sink over there. Do you need my help changing, or…?”

She shook her head, almost regretting it immediately.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be out in a minute?”

He nodded, leaving her alone in the room to change.

It wasn’t even noon yet and she already had to change her shirt because it had pee on it, she was sporting a head bump and the grumpy nurse had more sides to him than a rubix cube.

This job was going to be interesting – and incredibly exhausting for her body and her heart.

But, as she changed and washed up, she wondered if it would be worth it if she got to see the honest smile on the Spaniards face once in a while.

**

AN: This is a repost from a previous Tumblr account.

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal Fanfiction #the Great Wall #Pero Tovar #Pero Tovar Fanfiction #Modern! Pero Tovar #Pero Tovar x female oc

[shreddedleopard]

EVER OURS

Chapter 2: Act One

✨ Fandom - Yuukoku No Moriarty / Moriarty The Patriot

✨ Pairing - William Moriarty/ Sherlock Holmes

✨ Rating - Mature

Summary

It's been two years since the incident on Thames bridge.William is very much alive, and still learning to navigate a new sort of existence with his flatmate, partner and best friend in New York City. When a new case with The Pinkerton Detective Agency takes an unexpected turn, William's metal is put to the test. Freshly haunted by the demons of his past and still grappling with an answer to the question of his own atonement, he's forced to consider what it really means to take a life, and in doing so, he and Sherlock must finally confront the depths of their feelings for one another.

'My thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved I can only live wholly with you or not at all -  Be calm my life, my all. Only by calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together. Oh continue to love me, never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.  Ever Thine, Ever Mine, Ever Ours.' -- Beethoven

Read on AO3

Extract under the cut ~

“You look … nice.” Liam’s brow quirked as his gaze landed on the strips of material hanging limply at either side of Sherlock’s open collar. 

Sherlock grinned, stumping out the butt of his cigarette. “And you look too nice.”

Liam’s eye returned to his. “Oh?”

Sherlock sighed. He slid another smoke from his pack. “Remember how I said to leave all the set up to me; all you gotta do is show up and perform?”

Liam folded his arms, knuckle resting against his chin as he watched Sherlock light up. “I do.”

Sherlock hummed before taking a drag. He rose from the chair, stepping up to Liam with his cigarette balanced in the crook of his mouth. “Le’s jus’ say …” He looked Liam up and down again. He really did scrub up so beautifully. But Sherlock couldn’t deny the fact that he was looking forward to transforming Liam into the leading role he had in mind. He took his cigarette between his fingers. “You’re not quite in character enough, looking like that.”

“Well, best you revamp me suitably to fit the vision of your leading man, then.” 

Sherlock licked his lips. The cigarette was slid back into his mouth as he reached for the buttons of Liam’s dinner jacket. He undid all three, one by one, until it hung open. 

“Say, wanna play a game?” He asked, the words distorted around his mouthful. 

Liam plucked the cigarette from him, holding it aside. “How many of these have you smoked already?”

“Today, or ..?”

He received a pointedly arched brow at that, and it made his stomach flutter in the most delicious manner. He chided himself inwardly for chasing the feeling.

“S’my fourth, since I’ve been waiting here.”

Liam made a face at him. He reached aside to set the smoke in the groove at the ashtray lip. “You can at least wait for the rest of it until you’re done with me, then.”

Sherlock began to protest, but he was promptly silenced by Liam’s hands at his neck. He was fastening Sherlock’s bowtie.

“Your game?” He prompted, single eye fixed on the deft movements of his fingers at Sherlock’s collar.

“Ah, yeah. ‘Course.” Sherlock lifted his chin, staring down his nose. “How about we see if you can guess the sort of character you’re playing by the time I’ve finished doing you over?”

Liam secured the bow neatly at Sherlock’s throat and tilted his head, as though considering. It was a wasted effort; Sherlock could see right through him. He knew that this was the sort of game Liam would never pass up. 

“Alright, then.” He let go of the tie, brushing Sherlocks shoulders down, before gesturing to his own open jacket. “For starters, I might be an easy going sort of gentleman, to show up to wherever it is I’m headed with my jacket unfastened. Perhaps I prefer not to be constrained, and the loosened buttons were a conscious choice. Or perhaps even, I have donned my jacket in a hurry, in which case, I’m disorganised more than I am conscientious, and the choice was not a choice at all.”

Sherlock smirked. “Interesting.”

The smile Liam offered in return was coy, with a hint of the devilish. He gestured about his person. “Please, by all means, continue.”

It was all the invitation Sherlock needed to carry on with his excuse to dishevel Liam. He took Liam’s sleeve between his fingers, pulling his wrist upwards so that he could unfasten his cufflinks. 

“I’m not saying these aren’t very nice, but … they don’t quite fit.”

“Hm.” Liam watched Sherlock remove both sets of links, depositing them in his own pockets. “Interesting,” he parroted back, glancing at Sherlock beneath an arched brow.

Sherlock simply held his gaze as he reached for Liam’s lapels, sliding his fingers upwards, and the jacket was pushed from Liam’s shoulders altogether. “You can lose this,” he muttered.

“Ah.” Liam relaxed his arms under Sherlock’s touch, allowing himself to be undressed. He took the garment and hung it over the back of the kitchen chair. “Not a decision at all, then, and not for lack of manners. My jacket and cufflinks were too proper?”

“Just a little.” Sherlock winked.

Liam’s smile grew wider. “I might have an idea of where this is going.”

#sherliam #william james moriarty #sherlock holmes #yuumori #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori fanfic #eo #✨L Writes