#just retreat into some nice fog

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: don’t ask me why I did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You watch as the man looks along the door frame; back and forth, up and down. He knocks again and you flinch. You back up as you push on the door, as if it can make the barrier thicker. 

“Come on, baby cakes, I know you’re in there,” he says, “I just brought you a treat. It’s Wednesday... hump day, some call it.” 

You step back and hit the table. You squeak and wince away from it, rubbing your forearm where it met the corner. This can’t be happening. He can’t be there. How did he find you? 

“London fog, or whatever? It’s the one you like,” he calls, a taunting tinge in his voice. 

“Go away,” you force out. 

You hear a snort and a softer tap on the wood, “come on, jelly bean, I know you’re a sweet girl. Don’t be like that. It’s a nice gesture so don’t be rude.” 

You shake your head and turn, rushing away to grab your phone from your desk. You fumble to unlock it and come back to hover, just a few feet from the door. You can see his shadow underneath, seeping in through the crack. 

“I’m...” you gulp dryly, “I’ll call the police.” 

“Go ahead,” he sneers as the door shifts. He must be leaning on it. 

You don’t say anything else. There’s not point arguing with this man and no point calling the police. They don’t come when your neighbours scream all night long. You just go back to your desk and sit. 

You look at the monitor and skim the document, trying to refocus. Where were you? You can’t remember. 

“You’re really gonna hang me out to dry?” He raises his voice so you can hear. 

You just shake your head and type. He’s not there. The door is locked and you’re all alone. This is your apartment. Your life. It’s Wednesday and you already have your tea. Your tea! 

You get up and go to the kitchen to retrieve the lukewarm Earl Grey. Oh well. Just means you don’t need milk. You take it back to your desk. 

“It’s the quiet ones you gotta look out for,” the man says as the floor creaks and betrays your movement, “not as nice as they look.” 

You stop just at the end of the entryway and look over. His shadow shifts and retreats. You listen to his footsteps recede. You should go over and make sure he’s gone but you’re too afraid to go anywhere near the door. It’s like those recurring dreams where the door is always unlocked and you just can’t twist it back into place. 

You stand there for a while before you can make yourself move again. You return to your desk again. You clasp your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking as the screen blurs in your vision. 

Should you call the police anyway? 

You grab the mouse and swirl it around. You open the notes app and type in last Wednesday’s date. 

‘Man approached me at cafe. Grabbed my order. Followed me out and down the street.’ 

Your hands shake over the keys before you enter that day’s date. 

‘Same man appeared at my apartment. Did not let him in. Left after several minutes.’ 

You check the autosave and click out. You watched too many shows with similar scenarios. There wasn’t much to do but to keep track. The police won’t listen if you have no record. Even then, it’s not likely. This is why you hide from the world. It’s too dangerous. 

You bring your last task back up and squint at the handwritten notes scanned crookedly. It’s difficult to fall into your usual process. You’re typically a quick worker but you have to think of every word. You can’t focus past that man’s spectre. 

Your nape itches as if he’s still looming right outside your door. As if you might look over and he’ll be standing right there. That thought has you sitting back, recoiling from the computer as you make yourself look at the doorway. Empty. 

You get up and approach the entryway. You have to urge yourself forward, “it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay...” you whisper to yourself. You clutch the seams of your pants as you near the door. You turn and stand on your toe. You close one eye and press it to the hole. It's black. You can’t see a thing. 

Oh no. 

That’s not good. 

You get down on your knees and hands and been to see beneath the door. You only see a narrow little shadow. It could be nothing at all.  

You sit back on your heels and your heart pounds. You shouldn’t look but you have to. You can’t function no knowing for sure. 

You stand and check that the chain is in place. You turn the lock back and slowly twist the handle. You inch it open, a hand flat on the wood, your shoulder braced, ready to push back against any force. You peer around and find the hallways empty. 

All except the pink cup at the threshold. Just standing there. Taunting you. 

You shut the door, nearly slamming it, and lock it once more. You turn and put your back to it. You exhale and shake out your fingers, the crescents of your nails imprinted in your palm. 

He’s gone, but you’re not to certain he won’t be back. 

👄

You submit your last task for the day, an hour later than usual. You shouldn’t be this far behind. You didn’t even go to the cafe. You should be sixty minutes in the other direction. 

You shut off the computer and stand. The stiff wooden chair always leaves you numb but achy. The cushion you put on the seat doesn’t help very much either. What’s especially agitating is the tension locked between your vertebrae. 

That man. You haven’t stopped thinking of him. Not just today, but really all week. Since that first time you saw him. He was easier to deny then, but now... he could just be waiting for you on the other side of those walls. 

You shudder and carry your untouched tea into the kitchen and dump it. You hadn’t drank a single sip, you haven’t even eaten. You’re not hungry. Your sick to your stomach. 

Restless, riled, and rigid. You don’t know what to do with yourself. Usually, you’d read for a while, or watch TV, those old forgotten 70s shows that other people call boring. Yet you know, you can’t find comfort in any of that. 

Even behind closed doors and drawn curtains, you can’t feel safe. The thought of making the phone call flickers again but you know better than that. You’ve peeked through the windows as the sirens flash, watched as the police offered nothing more than dismissals and remonstrances not to waste their time to the woman with the bruised cheekbone. It’s just the same as it was when you were a kid. That makes you still feel like one. 

Are you talking yourself out of it because you’re scared or stupid or because it’s the truth? It’s hard to know. You never go out of you way to talk to anyone if you can help it. It’s always of utmost necessity. This might be one of those moments but you’re embarrassed. You don’t want to let anyone into the life and if you call someone, you have to do just that. You have let them in. You can’t. 

So you won’t. 

You sit on the sofa and cross your arms. You won’t let anyone in and you won’t go out. You’ll stay here. Maybe he’ll think he got the wrong place. Maybe he’ll give up. You can outlast him, right? 

👄

There’s a rattle in the window. It keeps you awake. You fixate on it. You blame the knot in your chest on it. 

Not on the memory, the persistent chill rolling up and down your spine. It’s the window not him. Not that stranger. He’s gone so why are you still thinking of him. 

You keep the lamp on. The darkness is too much. You lay staring at the the refraction circle interspliced with the metal frame on the ceiling. The curve is slightly skewed by the angle. The window rattles again. 

You huff. You’ll put a book against it to hold it steady. You go to the shelf on the wall and take the heaviest hardcover you can find. You take it to the window and curl your fingers around the edge of the curtain. It feels like stone. You can’t make yourself move it. 

You take a breath and pull it away from the frame but don’t look outside. You lean the book on the frame, pushing it snug until you’re sure. You pause, a glint gleaming off the pane. You let go of the book and stare at the brief spark of light, an odd glare. 

You inch close to the frame and peek around. You search the sky, a few stars glimmering through the city haze, the moon in a crescent. You search the silhouette of the city and the flicker comes again, this time directly in your eye. You’re drawn to the movement. 

You back up and look down at you rub your eyelid. What was that? The curtain fall back into place but the light pierces through. You follow the odd laserlike beam centered on your chest. You put your hand over the green dot there and it shines on your skin. What the hell? 

You dodge out of the way in disbelief and stare at the laser at it hits the wall instead. It’s bold, even in the hue of the lamp. It moves up, then down, side to side, then stops. You hold your breath. This isn’t some strange phenomenon. There’s someone out there, doing this. You know who. 

You watch the beam terrified. You’ve only ever seen something like that in movies. It’s more than those little red lights you buy for cats. It’s strong, thick. That’s a target and it had just been right on you. 

You rub your chest subconsciously and suddenly, the lightly moves. You watch as it swerves around so fast to make a precise shape. A shape you can’t believe. A shape you must be imagining. It stops, centered again on the wall, then retraces the same figure. 

A heart. 

That can’t be. It’s not real. Your dreaming. 

You close your eyes and cover your ears, bending your legs as your curl your shoulders over your knees. You fall onto your side, balled into a fetal position as you shake your head. It’s a dream! Wake up, wake up, wake up... 

👄

The morning rises to a thumping in your temples. You don’t know if it’s the lack off food or sleep. You’re wrought and worn from a night spent hiding from reality. 

Water. Your mouth is dry. You’re dehydrated. You haven’t been paying attention to the cues. You haven’t wanted to be in this body. 

You unfold yourself and sit up. You stare at the wall. The dot is gone. Is he? 

You hang one leg over the edge, then the other. You nearly retract them. Like a child, you could believe in a monster under the bed. You push yourself to your feet and stagger forward. 

You nearly fall through the open door into the main room of your apartment. You shuffle forward, rubbing your forehead as a sandy fog clings to your lashes. You stumble into the kitchen and lean on the counter as you fill a glass with water. You gulp until you feel queasy. 

You put the glass down and flinch at your own force. You back away and wipe the stray droplets from your fingertips. You turn and teeter back into the front room. You need to get your head on straight, you have a full day of work ahead of you still. 

You look towards the front door. You cross your arms protectively. You inch forward and turn to face it. You bring yourself to your toes and lean in. You still can’t see through the peep hole. You stand flat again and frown. 

You go back to the kitchen and turn the kettle on. You have instant coffee in the mornings. It’s fast and efficient. No clunky machine or ridiculous press. You just need the boost. 

You open the cupboard and take down the box of single packets. You slip one out and count the rest. It’s a newer box. There’s ten left. You look up and consider the bag of minute-oats. If you parse back your typical serving, that can last a little longer. You don’t need sugar in it either, that you can spare. The pasta you can ration as well. The sauce has a shelf-life once open. 

You put down the packet and set the box back on the shelf. You leave the cupboard door open and go to the fridge. The eggs won’t expire for two weeks but you only have half a dozen left. The milk will go quicker. The butter... that never runs out very quickly, it hardly matters. 

Are you really meting out how to wait out this man? Are you really stooping to this? Your defense is no defense. You’re just going to hunk down and hope he goes away. What else can you do? 

You can’t go anywhere. You can’t even see out to make sure he’s not waiting for you. You could order groceries but that means also opening the door. How would you know it wasn’t him knocking?  

He’ll get bored. He has to. It’s your only hope. 

#the quiet ones #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the gray man

[fredwkong]

Sneakerhead

(inspired by a prompt from the incredibly welcoming @idesofrevolution​ )

It started because of some shoes.

Joel really wanted some classic Air Jordans, the 4s, black with red accents. He’d been having some trouble dating lately, passing out of his early 20s, when girls just wanted a guy who used deodorant. In their late 20s girls wanted shit like 401(k)s and moving in together. Joel’s solution? Date younger.

To do that, he needed some new style. He’d been grabbing streetwear for a while, but the Js would be the centrepiece, what he needed to perfectly set off distressed jeans and an oversized flannel. With his slender frame and boyish looks, with some new style Joel was sure his clean lifestyle would attract plenty of younger dates.

The shoes remained elusive, however. Too expensive to buy new, impossible to thrift. Finally, a gay guy acquaintance of Joel’s mentioned Sneaker Swap, a trade/sale site. He offered to send Joel a special invite link, an unreadable look in his eyes. Apparently this link would fast track Joel’s account progress somehow, give him unique access to shoes. Some gay kink thing, probably, Joel thought.

When he got home from the bar where he and the guy had met up, Joel followed the link and downloaded the app. The app took a while to load, he noticed, but the loading spiral was pretty nice to look at, so it was fine. It was one of the Js in the middle of several swirling concentric circles with a rainbow pattern.

Finally, the app loaded, inviting Joel to make an account. He input his shoes size, blinking at the afterimage of the spiral in his vision. When the main page loaded, and sneakers started to populate across the screen, his dick jumped unexpectedly, probably a side effect of being so close to finally having his Js and getting a date.

The guy Joel finally ended up buying his Js from lived across town, so Joel drove to his house to make the trade. As soon as he pulled up, he noticed a rainbow flag in the front window. The guy had seemed pretty intelligent and straightforward while Joel negotiated, but when he opened the door the guy seemed totally out of it. He barely remembered agreeing to the trade, he tried to grope Joel’s ass, and worst of all, all he was wearing were some tight boxer briefs and his sneakers, which gave off kind of a funky smell.

The dumb guy left Joel standing next to his shoe rack while he went to go find the Jordans and their box. As he waited, a distinctive smell started to fill Joel’s nose, the rich, buttery aroma rising off of the pile of used shoes in the rack. This guy must not own any socks, Joel thought in disgust. If those Js were gonna smell this bad, he might need to look for a new pair. He started to load sneaker swap, watching the spiral turn for several seconds.

Maybe the smell wasn’t that bad, he realised, sniffing the air again. It wasn’t like he wanted his feet to smell like that, but it wasn’t so surprising for a guy to want to fill his shoes with his essence. Mark his territory. Show off his manliness.

Joel had drifted back toward the shoe rack by the time the guy came back with the shoes. He spotted the Sneaker Swap app, still loading on Joel’s phone.

“Huhu, what a great app,” the guy grunted, handing over the shoebox. “Totally changed my life, bro.”

“Uh, thanks, man,” Joel said, handing over cash for the Js and pocketing his phone. He wrinkled his nose at the smell coming off the guy’s hairy muscles. “Thanks for the shoes.”

“Totally,” the gay guy’s eyes zeroed in on the bulge in Joel’s pants. Joel hadn’t even noticed his erection. “Hey bruh, if you want to,” the guy paused and licked his lips, “trade sneakers again sometime, hit me up.”

Joel beat a hasty retreat back to his car.

As he drove home, he kept thinking about the smell of that guy’s shoes. It was almost like it was still in his head, fogging up his brain. In fact, it was getting stronger. Joel pulled over and grabbed the shoebox from his passenger seat. He hadn’t smelled it in the house, but his fancy new Js were impregnated with the smell of the guy’s feet. Joel groaned, now he would have to figure out how to clean the shoes without ruining them.

Joel kept the shoes in a box in the back of his front closet, not wanting to have to smell them while he figured out how to wash off the stench. By the time he had finished his dinner, though, a faint foot funk was permeating his kitchen like a haze. Those shoes were powerful. Joel loaded up Sneaker Swap. Maybe they had a forum that could help. At the very least, he wanted to comment on the guy’s profile so other people knew what they were getting into.

The loading spiral was so relaxing. Joel could just sit and watch it… Some time later, Joel found himself looking at the main page of the app. When had it gotten so dark? He’d been about to do something on the app. He was going to—he was going to look for more shoes, right. He was already planning more outfits with different pairs.

The next morning, Joel was leaving for work when he saw the Js he’d bought yesterday sitting out on his shoerack, their smell eye-watering at close range. Had he put them there? He must have. The smell seemed different today, more complex and deeper, there was almost an appeal to having it filling him up… Joel shook his head. He should have looked up how to clean them last night, his whole house was gonna smell if this kept up. He went to open the Sneaker Swap app, and watched the spiral load.

He was nearly late for work, he spent so long looking at shoes to buy. How was he getting so absentminded lately? He must have had a latent interest in cool shoes this whole time, he reasoned.

The pattern continued. Every time Joel passed through his entryway, he smelled the musky Jordan 4s on his shoerack. He thought about cleaning them or putting them away, and started to load up Sneaker Swap, then got distracted by looking at shoes. It was starting to affect other parts of his life, too. A girl at work commented on how spacey and airheaded Joel had been acting lately. He just shrugged, unable to think of an answer other than, “Sorry, head’s full of shoe stink.”

By the time his next paycheck came through, Joel had three different pairs on hold with local bros. He was jittery and excited all morning, then loaded up into his car for an afternoon driving around to make the trades.

It was… weird. Joel couldn’t put his finger on it, but all three of the guys he met were different than he’d expected. Maybe it was how slow and stupid their voices were, or their nudity, or the fact none of them had washed or put on deodorant. All three wore their sneakers in their houses, and all three had a pile of smelly shoes by the front door. But every time Joel tried to think about it, the smell of all the shoes seemed to overtake his mind. All three guys had such unique scents to them, Joel found himself fascinated.

On the drive home, Joel barely noticed the three pairs of shoes stinking up his car, too busy thinking about how all those shoes had smelled at the source, where the guys he’d bought his Js from kept all their dirty sneakers. In a daze, he carried the three smelly boxes into his house and absently set the three new pairs of shoes next to the first, which he still hadn’t tried on. He kept meaning to clean them, he should look up how on Sneaker Swap… The loading spiral was so captivating…

Later, Joel found himself sitting on the floor next to his shoerack, his phone open to Sneaker Swap in one hand and one of his new Js in the other. Another couple shoes were in his lap. He took in the complex, different scents of each of the guys he’d bought them from, some salty, some bitter, and one even an almost sweet scent. It was like a signature, their unique trace on the shoes, something he’d be honoured to add to now that he’d inherited the legacy from them.

The next morning, Joel sniffed himself and decided he probably didn’t have to shower this morning. He looked at the deodorant on his bathroom counter, puzzled, and then threw it in the trash. While he ate breakfast, Joel loaded up Sneaker Swap and, after watching the spiral for a while, started looking at shoes. When he got ready for work, he grabbed the first pair of Js he’d bought and shoved his socked feet into their musky interior without a second thought.

Joel had the style now, but he noticed that he was having even more trouble scoring dates now. Girls seemed put off by the manly smell that Joel was building up. He’d started going to the gym more, and showers just seemed so much less important than building up his personal brand of musk to fill in to his shoes. At one bar, a girl wrinkled her nose at him as soon as Joel came up to the bar and she fled. Meanwhile, a passing boy in some little sexy shorts paused walking past Joel, nostrils flaring. Joel watched as the guy’s little dick suddenly tented out his tiny package, and smirked when their eyes met.

He was noticing guys more and more lately. At first, it was just their shoes, like the spiral from Sneaker Swap appeared around the feet of any guy in Js. He kept wondering what it would be like to smell a guy’s feet for real, rather than just through getting his musky shoes. His collection was growing, and each time he went to get new shoes the guys he traded with got more fun. Their houses were full of such hot scents, and their hot, smelly bods looked and smelled so good. They kept pressing up against Joel as they passed him their shoes, passing on their musk to him to take care of. It was so hot.

As much as he loved the thick, musky smell permeating his house now, Joel still hadn’t gone all the way and stuck his face in one of his Js. He didn’t know if he could take the smell that close to the source. The day he brought home his tenth pair of shoes, though, Joel decided that his little collection deserved to be commemorated on his Sneaker Swap profile. He opened up the app and watched the loading spiral.

He recollected himself as he hit “post” on his new profile pic. He looked at it. His Js were neatly laid out on the shoerack, but off to the side, there he was, in the picture, his face buried in one of the 4s, the first ones he’d bought with the red accents. As likes and comments started to pour in from the guys he’d bought the shoes from, a chorus of “bruh” and “noice” and “sniff that sneak, dude” Joel realised that he was still holding the shoe over his mouth and nose.

Right in the back of his mind, Joel had an instant of fear. Was this really him? This stinky sneakerhead? He’d been different before, clean-cut and even straight! He instinctively took a deep breath, and his negative feelings vanished as all his thoughts were overcome with the salty, musky tang of the shoe, so much stronger at close range that it was a physical sensation on his tongue. Joel’s growing foot stench had blended with the buttery scent of that first dumb himbo he’d bought the shoes from.

It felt like his whole mind was being filled up with musk, slowing his thoughts down like they were moving through molasses. Everything was perfectly fine. He had his shoes, he had his musk, and his big cheesy cock. Life was pretty much perfect for a dumb sneakerhead like him.

The next morning, Joel woke up in bed, cradling one of his Js against his face like when he’d fallen asleep. He didn’t bother putting on more than some boxers and a used pair of socks, sticking his feet into a pair of sneakers as he got out of bed. A new user on Sneaker Swap wanted to buy a pair of his 4s, and after that he’d invited the guy he’d bought his first pair from to come over and check out his collection. Hopefully Joel would be able to get his mouth on that guy’s hot, smelly feet this time.

He needed to message that guy who’s given him the link to this app. Maybe he could give him a reward, Joel thought, kneading his weeping cock through his boxers.

#mental change #male transformation #feet kink tf #shoes tf #musk tf #straight to gay #dumber tf #hypno tf #himbofication #idesofrevolution #prompted story #male tf #all fwkong

[rorywritesjunk]

I know it's just a number but you're the eighth wonder

Buggy loves that you have a pair of glasses for every day of the week. Rating: R because hints at sexy times. Warning: None. Don't take glasses off someone's face or you'll definitely see hands coming atcha. (Buggy doesn't do such a thing but it's hinted). A/N: Request from an Anon! I wear glasses myself so this gave me a reason to go on Warby Parker's site to get some inspiration for frames. Also having your glasses fog up when you talk to someone is the most embarrassing and obnoxious thing I've ever had happen to me with glasses.

Title comes from "Wilson (Expensive Mistake)" by Fall Out Boy.

One of Buggy’s favorite things about you was the fact that you wore glasses. He knew it was something that some people were embarrassed by, not wanting something on their face that would draw attention to them (a topic he knew a lot about), but you didn’t care. One thing he loved was the fact that you didn’t have one pair of glasses, you actually had seven pairs, all different colors and styles depending on your mood and how you were feeling that day. 

Your thick black rimmed ones were the ones you did wear the most when you were working. He invited you onto the crew to do carpentry, and while he knew you wore those black rimmed glasses the most, he often saw you working in a pair of safety glasses that protected your eyes from splinters and other dangerous things. Your regular pair would be kept in a case for safety and in your tool box, away from curious pirate captains who just wanted to try them on and see how they felt on his face with his nose. 

When you had down time you loved cooking and baking, recipe books stacked everywhere while you stumbled about the kitchen. You had a pair of thin frames in rose gold that when you cooked they would sit on the edge of your nose so you could see over the top of them while you read the recipes. Buggy saw that once and was confused. Didn’t you need them to see? Why did it look like you weren’t using them?

“I’m nearsighted, Captain.” You told him after he called you out on it. “I can’t see things far away but up close I’m fine.”

“So why do you wear them all the time then?” He asked as he looked over your shoulder to see what you were making. It looked like chocolate frosting. Without warning, he reached down and dipped his finger into the bowl, scooping up some to pop into his mouth. “Betcha didn’t see that comin’ and it was right in front of you.”

You grinned at him and pointed to a small bowl on the counter. “Maybe you need glasses. I set that bowl aside for sneaky pirates looking to taste test.”

Well, he didn’t like being called sneaky or you insinuating he couldn’t see, so he poked your cheek gently with his chocolatey finger before grabbing the small bowl and retreating to the table, leaving you to bake in peace for a little bit.

And it was always a nice little surprise when he got to see what pair you chose for the day. Sometimes he tried guessing before he saw you in the morning, wondering if you’d wear green frames or maybe those blue frames that matched his hair color. You had another pair of wired rim glasses in black, but those were probably his least favorite of the bunch because he didn’t think they were flashy enough for you, and when you took them off your face when you did some tasks, he wondered if he could hide them away so you would go get a different pair to put on.

He actually attempted it once when you set your glasses on your tool box, but you caught him so he pretended he was cleaning the lenses for you. While you appreciated the gesture, his dirty shirt just left smudge marks all over the lenses. He didn’t try again after that.

The cat-eyed frames were a shape he was definitely intrigued by, but when he compared them to Richie’s eyes, he wasn’t sure which was correct (they looked nothing like the lion’s large eyes). He liked them on you when you would dress up, like when he took you out drinking one night and your cheeks were pink from the alcohol, and he definitely noticed how your lenses fogged up when you were talking to him, asking questions and getting to know your captain. They were a pair that when he knocked them off your face when he kissed you, he wasn’t sorry if they got a little crooked.

However, one of his favorite things was when the two of you would be in bed and relaxing. Buggy would be laying across the bed, using your lap as a pillow while you read a book and played with his hair,  your glasses sitting on top of your head and pushing your hair back out of your face. It was something simple, not very flashy, and he liked to see it because he thought maybe you felt safe enough to do it around him. 

The rest of the crew rarely saw you without glasses on your face, but he was blessed with it, that you trusted him to keep your frames safe, like when you’d fall asleep wearing them after a long day, he’d remove them from your face and set them aside with the lenses up, knowing they could be scratched if he wasn’t careful. Or how you’d hand them to him to set aside before you’d start making out with him on his throne or in bed or anywhere where he could use his Chop Chop ability to get them out of harm’s way when you’d start kissing him.

And once you showed him how to properly clean the lenses, he would do it in the morning for you after you picked out the ones you would wear for the day. It was a sweet gesture, one you weren’t expecting, but you appreciated it. 

It also took a few months before he felt brave to ask that one simple question of, “Can I try a pair on? I want to see what they look like on my face.”

He thought maybe you were insulted by the way you looked at him, but then you bounced off the bed to where you kept them, bringing six pairs back for him to choose from. Honestly, you were waiting for him to ask, and you appreciated that he didn’t just take them off your face to see, though there were times it was obvious he wanted to with the way he’d reach up to touch your face, only to pull his hand back at the last second. 

“Pick one!” You said as you set them down in front of him. “Or do you want to try the ones I’m wearing now?”

“Eager to see me wear’em, aren’t you?” He grinned as he picked up the blue pair. You took them out of his hands, carefully unfolding the arms of the frames before placing them on his face. You were mindful of his nose, making sure the bridge didn’t bump it, pleased that they seemed to sit just fine. “Holy shit, this is how you see the world? It’s…weird.”

“Well, they will be weird for you because they are made for my eyes, not yours.” You chuckled as you leaned over to adjust them on his face just a bit. “Don’t look through them for too long or you may get a headache, Buggy.”

He squinted at you through the lenses for a moment, trying to get you into focus, but it was no use. You appeared distorted to him as he looked through them, but he didn’t mind because when he pushed the frames down a bit to look over the top of them as he had seen you do many times, he was surprised by how you were looking at him. 

It was the same way you looked at him every time you started to take your clothes off, and well, this time was no different, except you were removing the glasses from his face to keep them safe, setting them aside with the rest before you kissed him. 

“Maybe we see about getting you a pair, Buggy.” You murmured against his lips as you started to unbutton his shirt. He fumbled with your shirt, cursing that you wore a pullover top today instead of something with buttons. He didn’t want to stop kissing you. “A pair with fake lenses.”

“They make those?” Was his muffled response as you finally slipped your shirt off, tossing it aside. “Won’t it be weird?”

“It’s our little secret.” You promised him as you started to take your glasses off, but he stopped you, pushing your hands away from your face.

“No, no, leave them on.” He told you with a smirk. “Need to be sure you’ll see everything I’m gonna do to ya, y’know.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc

[twst-drabbles]

Riddle 16

Summary: Now the time comes for Riddle to hibernate. For whatever reason, the Roseling made it a habit to sleep last.

(Oh so gentle, oh so sweet. It's hilarious, how when I crave to write something horrible, I write fluff instead.)

Snow had been falling for a while now. It blankets your house in a smooth white sheet, only a few centimeters thick. Nothing really worth shoveling up or playing in. It’s more suiting to just recline back in a comfy chair and relax by the fire. With the birds leaving their nests empty, the trees long having retreated their vitality, there’s this odd feeling that somehow you were stuck in time.

Of course, that’s not the case, not with Riddle struggling to not fall asleep in your hands. You leaned down and exhaled a hot breath over his body. Sleepily, he smacked you on the chin through the fog.

“Sorry, sorry,” you chuckled, “forgot to brush my teeth this morning.”

Your breath probably smells horrible and you’d hope the cold would somehow dull it. Though, that’s not how scents work, huh?

As you walked through the garden, all bundled up in a nice coat and a blanket just because you could, Riddle was resisting the urge to sleep. He sits in your palm, grabbing your fingers to keep his balance, but you can see his head bobbing up and down.

“Really Riddle,” you said as you opened the door to the temporary greenhouse, “you don’t have to force yourself. You guys need to rest and it’s not like I’ll be lonely. I have plenty of company.”

Riddle’s rose, a rather large plant that continues to grow, now at shoulder height to you, was open and ready to accept its other very sleepy half. Below the large flowing petals were four other roses, all of them tightly closed with the other plant nymphs that couldn’t keep awake.

This place was certainly warmer compared to the sharp winds outside, but not enough to have them awaken early. You just needed some decent shelter in case a storm of any kind comes in.

You shrugged, “I suppose it’s my fault for entertaining you.” There was a mirth to your tone. “To sleep with you, Riddle.”

You stretched your hand to the center of the open rose, but no matter how gentle the motion was, it still causes Riddle to stumble forward and bump his head against your fingers. He shoved himself back, as though shocked away as he shook his head. He took a moment to look around, adjust the petals of his body before standing in all his glory.

“Well?” You said, subtly pushing his back with your thumb, “Get some shut eye. I’ll be here when you all wake up.”

The Roseling turned to you, face scrunched up in the way he does when being told what he has already set out to do. But there was no fire to it. Poor little guy was so sleepy, he looked like he could fall right over.

Riddle took a step down with a huff, but stopped. His head inclined down, then he turned to you, giving you a flash of puppy eyes before he caught himself and looked forward.

You snorted but didn’t say a thing. Riddle took another step, then another, then finally hopped off your fingers like a diving board, landing safely and softly in the rose he was born from. The petals were so thick and fluffed up it nearly swallowed him. Only his head was visible.

“Have a good night, Riddle.”

Until spring comes, Roseling.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #heartslabyul #riddle #riddle rosehearts #house pet au #reader insert

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

soonyoung + 17 ✨

Soonyoung x fem!reader

“I swear you’re intoxicating.”

Word Count: 1197

Contents: mention of a thunderstorm, mutual masturbation, fingering, public sex, unprotected sex

Hot

The summer heat was oppressive. Even away from the highrises and winding streets of Hannam-dong, out in Namyangju City to visit Seoonyoung’s family, the August heat was still intense. Easy enough to fend off in his parent’s air-conditioned apartment but much harder when you ventured out for a picnic together. You didn’t last all that long before retreating back home, into the cool air once again.

That, though, didn’t stop you and Soonyoung from heading to the park that evening before making your way back to Seoul. As the sun started to set the heat only let off a little bit but it was enough for a nice walk in the nearly empty park.

Heavy.

The rain that was pouring down on the roof of the car. It came on so quickly during sweltering summer days. Though maybe it wasn’t much of a surprise, if the dark clouds covering the park and lack of other people had been any indication. It seemed everyone else had decided to be indoors.

But like lovesick fools the two of you had settled on a romantic walk in the park before heading home.

That was how you found yourself racing back to the car as the heavens opened above you, catching you in a torrential downpour. With clothes soaked through and hot, wet skin you both clambered back into the car, the rain coming down in such thick sheets you couldn’t even see out the windows.

“What now?” Soonyoung chuckled.

Hot.

Soonyoung’s breath on your ear. He was the one to start this, climbing over the console into the backseat and fixing you with a grin and a beckoning motion with his finger. You’d rolled your eyes but climbed in the backseat with him, giggling as his lips found yours in a warm kiss. His hands found your waist, pulling you as close as was comfortable, before running up and down your legs. He didn’t seem to care that either of you were soaked, seemingly lost in kisses.

“What are we, teenagers?” You’d mumbled against his lips. He chuckled into another kiss.

��We can’t exactly drive in this.” He’d pulled back from the kiss. “What else would you have us do?”

“Touche.”

So kisses gave way to making out and heavy petting, hands slipping under shirts and into pants. It had given you pause when Soonyoung moved to pull your shirt over your head, some sense in your brain wondering won’t somebody see?

“The rain is too heavy, babe.” Soonyoung answered your unspoken question. “No one is outside and even if they were, they can’t see us.”

That was all the convincing you needed to lift your arms, letting him rid you over your shirt.

More clothes made their way off after that. His shirt, your bra, his shorts and yours. It was as if it made you too impatient though, taking off clothes. He hadn’t gotten your panties off, instead pressing you to sit back in the seat while he rubbed you though the fabric. You were just as feverish though, a hand in his boxers, jerking him off with quick movements.

His lips left dark bruises blossoming over your neck as he sucked along the sensitive skin. Your sounds filled the car, huffs of breath and quiet moans as he pushed your panties to the side and teased you with one finger. The way you gripped his cock harder had him breaking away from your neck and letting out a groan nearly directly in your ear.

“Fuck, I need you so bad.”

“Why are you taking so long to finger me then?” Despite the breathiness of your tone, there was a clear grin in it.

Soonyoung was quick to sink a finger into your heat.

Heavy

Soonyoung’s touch on your skin, his hold on your hips as he sunk into you, head falling into your neck as he breathed out a moan. You were just as affected, arms around his neck and back pressed into the car seat. You could see the way the windows were fogged up now from your heavy breathing.

Soonyoung stayed still for a moment, and maybe if you asked he would insist it was so you could adjust, but you knew better, you knew how affected he was, how pussy drunk he got, needing you like he needed water. He breathed a shaky breath against your skin, groaned when you clenched around him.

“So good.” He moaned. “I swear you’re intoxicating.”

Your hands found his cheeks, cupping them and bringing his face up to meet yours. You pressed a kiss to his lips, long and lingering and slow. The moment felt caught in time, hung in mid-air, only brought back down to earth as he started to rock his hips into yours, sending a wave of pleasure through both of your bodies.

His hips moved faster bit by bit and eventually his lips fell away from yours again. Moans filled the car as pleasure mounted, each drag of his cock against your walls, wrapped around him, had the heavenly sensation filling you both. Even the thunder rumbling outside couldn’t rival the moans rolling off of both of your lips.

His movements grew rougher, as rough as they could in such a cramped space. As your highs drew nearer and nearer it was unclear if your hair was still wet from the rain or now from sweat. The car was hot and would have been stifling if you didn’t have your mind and body so occupied, so wrapped up in each of Soonyoung’s movements.

Your nails scratched down his back, earning harder thrusts and louder moans. Your name started to fall from his lips like a mantra and it had you trying to move your hips to meet his. Your head fell back against the seat, eyes screwed shut as you locked your legs around him tighter, as if you could pull him any closer.

“Cum with me.” Was it a question? A request? A demand? You didn’t know as the words slipped from your lips. It didn’t seem to matter though, Soonyoung groaned at your words, snapping his hips just a little faster, a little harder as he chased the high.

You fell over first, gasping and going nearly silent as your back arched. The feeling of utter bliss surged through your body, leaving your legs trembling and you sucking in heavy breaths as your heart raced. Soonyoung followed you quickly, filling you with his warmth as he groaned at the feeling of you squeezing around him. His hips stuttered to a stop deep inside you, catching his breath in quick puffs against your skin.

Soonyoung collapsed against your chest, sighing contentedly into you as you opened your eyes. The moment was quiet as you ran your fingers through his wet hair, gaze shifting up to the windows and noticing the change in the rain.

“Just in time.” You hummed.

Soonyoung lifted his head, gazing out the window at the clearer view of the park beyond the muddy, dirt parking lot. “Much better use of our time than sitting and talking.” He grinned breathlessly. You pressed a kiss to his lips. “Much better.”

#finally banging another one out #i had this idea this morning #and im doing a work on your damn wips nanowrimo #so i thought i could make this idea work with one of the prompts #i do have another idea but im not sure about it #it kinda works with one of the prompts #and this also means im at the right time to work on a cumslut leader line work #god yall remember that? #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #svt imagines #svt smut #hoshi imagines #hoshi smut #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung smut #kwon soonyoung smut

[ghostieagere]

Request if the inspiration strikes, no pressure to fulfill if not <3

New bug finds out he gets very motion sick if on the busses for more then an hour or so, and ends up slipping small because he feels so icky and it scares him

He doesn't want to bother any of the pack because hes sacred about being broken because he's feeling so icky and doesn't know why

But one of the pack finds him and gives him lots of reassurance, cuddles, and tummy rubs to try and make him feel better -🌧️

absolutely !! sick aeon coming right up :) i hope this is what you were after, anons <3

cw: aeon feels nauseous, slight emeto warning (no vomit though), dew feeds aeon some food once he feels better. little aeon, caregivers swiss and dew

~

Something feels… off. In the beginning, Aeon didn’t know exactly what, but with every bump in the road, and with every corner the bus turns, he thinks he’s starting to get an idea.

It had begun once the ritual had ended, the regular queasy excitement building in his stomach during bows, only to disappear again once he’d gone backstage. But unlike every other time, once he’d settled himself onto the bus, after about an hour or so of travelling, the feeling came back. He’s usually asleep by this time, so worn out by the performance and subsequent excitement that he can’t help but drift off, but today something’s keeping him awake. Something in his stomach feels wrong, and as time goes on, the feeling grows and grows, spreading up through his throat and into his mouth. 

As soon as he’d started feeling like this, he had retreated to his bunk, not wanting to annoy the pack with the weird feeling in his stomach, but the longer he stays awake, the more he wishes he’d stayed with them. If he tries to get up and wander over to them now, he thinks the gross feeling will spread even more and something bad will happen. He’s just not sure what.

He curls his arms more tightly around his favourite plushie, burrows further down into the blanket he’s wrapped around himself and whines softly. He’s annoyed at himself for not being able to figure out what’s happening to him; his head is getting progressively fuzzier as he feels worse and worse, and although he’s sure the brain fog is a familiar feeling, he doesn’t know what’s causing it. The bus hits a particularly large dip in the road and Aeon feels even worse than before. He has to swallow the funny burning liquid that appears in his mouth when the bus jolts.

He must be making some kind of noise in his discomfort because almost immediately, Swiss is pulling back the curtains surrounding Aeon’s bunk and kneeling beside him. “Hey, baby bat. What’s going on?”

“I– I don’ know,” he whines, but as soon as the words leave his mouth. “...Ough, ‘m liddle…?”

Swiss laughs softly. “You didn’t know, baby?”

Aeon shakes his head slowly and hugs his plushie closer to him; maybe if he holds them close enough, they’ll help him feel less weird.

“Hey, that’s okay. I know it’s hard to tell sometimes,” the multi ghoul reassures him. He reaches a hand out as he’s speaking and strokes Aeon’s hair off of his face. Swiss’ hands are cold against his forehead, it’s nice. “Do you know why you feel all little, bat?”

Aeon shakes his head again, and immediately lets out a whine. His stomach feels like it’s mixing everything up inside it and bubbling it up into his throat. He tries to move further down into his blanket cocoon, but while the weight of the blanket is comforting, it’s so hot laying underneath it and Aeon feels like he might just explode if he gets any warmer.

Swiss stops stroking Aeon’s hair and instead rests his hand on the little quintessence ghoul’s forehead. “Oh, baby, are you sick? Is that what this is?”

Swiss’ words seem to click everything into place. His foggy head and his overheating body, as well as his queasy stomach and that funny burning liquid that came up his throat when the bus jolted all make sense now. “F– fink so…” And, oh, he must really be small if he’s talking like that. He hadn’t even realised.

Swiss frowns down at him sympathetically, and leans down to press a kiss to his overheated forehead. “Where do you feel sick, bug?” When Aeon doesn’t answer because the bus has hit a really bumpy stretch of road and he’s sure that if he opens his mouth, something very bad will come out, Swiss tries again. “Is it your tummy, baby? Right here?” He pokes Aeon’s stomach very gently and Aeon gives him a small nod.

He can’t manage anything other than a tiny nod at the moment, he really doesn’t feel good. He rubs his plushie’s ear between his fingers to calm himself down; it’s a trick that Rain taught him to focus himself when everything feels like too much, and he’s happy that it seems to be working a little bit now as well.

“Okay.” Swiss smiles down at him gently. “Thank you for telling me, baby bat. You’re being so super duper brave right now, you know that?”

Aeon manages a tiny smile in return, still holding his plushie’s ear in his fingers. “I– I’m a… A b– brave ghoul!”

“Yes, you are, baby!” Swiss grins widely and gives Aeon a kiss on the cheek, nuzzling his nose into his face gently. Aeon smiles a bit wider, even when Swiss pulls back. “Now, bubba, I have a question for you, okay?” Aeon nods and Swiss continues. “I’m going to get you some things that will hopefully make you feel a bit better, but I need to know if you want me to stay with you and get someone else to get the things for you, or if you’re gonna be okay if I leave for a bit. What do you think, bug?”

Aeon tilts his head and considers his options. He doesn’t really want to be left alone, but he knows Swiss will be back before he can even register he’s gone. “Secon’ one. You t– tan go, Swissy.”

“Alright, baby. I’ll be back real soon, okay? You just stay here with your plushie, they’ll keep you nice and safe.” With a quick kiss to Aeon’s forehead Swiss is gone, but true to his word, he’s back almost before Aeon notices he’s gone, his arms full of things.

“Okie dokie, little bat.” Swiss tips the contents of his arms onto the floor beside Aeon’s bunk. “You ready to see what I have?”

Aeon nods, bringing his plushie up to his mouth to chew its ear as he tries to peer over the side of his bed from where he’s lying down.

“First things first…” Swiss begins, organising his big heap into smaller piles. “Let’s get you sat up, baby.”

Swiss helps him up into a sitting position, holding him up and letting him rest when his stomach overwhelms him every few seconds, and before he knows it, Aeon is sat up against some pillows a sick bag and a water bottle next to him, with a sippy cup clutched in his hands and a cold wash cloth pressed to his forehead by Swiss’ big hands.

“You feel any better now, bug?”

Aeon nods happily, taking a small sip from his cup—his favourite apple juice with some of Mountain’s special medicine mixed into it to make him feel all better, Swiss had told him. “Good an’ bedder, Swissy,” he smiles.

“Awh, I’m so glad, baby bat,” he says. “You need anything else?”

“Mmm,” Aeon considers. “Jus’ cuddles, p’ease?”

Swiss grins and assures him that of course he can have some cuddles as he climbs onto Aeon’s bunk and wraps his spare arm around him while keeping the other against Aeon’s forehead with the cloth. “This good?”

Aeon hums and nods. “Uh huh, ‘s good.” His stomach still doesn’t feel normal, but the medicine is slowly helping to calm it down. Maybe he won’t even need the sick bag; Swiss had said he only brought it just in case anyway, that hopefully Aeon wouldn’t need it once he’d had some medicine, and he’s right.

Swiss rests his head against Aeon’s and the little quintessence ghoul can feel him smiling against his scalp. “If you’re feeling better later on, bug, Dew said he was gonna make your favourite for dinner.”

Aeon’s mouth drops open. Dew never makes Aeon’s favourite.

“He’s going to bring it in in about half an hour, okay?” Swiss lowers his voice conspiratorially before continuing. “He even said he’d use your favourite bat bowl and fork, and maybe he’ll even give you some more special apple juice…”

Aeon didn’t think his mouth could get any wider, but somehow it does, and he has to look up at Swiss to make sure he’s telling the truth.

The multi ghoul chuckles at his shock. “It’s true, baby, I promise,” he assures him. “But that’s not for a while yet, little bat, and someone looks like they’re about to collapse from exhaustion. Being sick is very tiring, hmm?”

Aeon hadn’t even noticed his eyelids drooping, so caught up his excitement, but now that Swiss has pointed it out, the little quintessence ghoul can’t think about anything except his tired eyes and sore head. He nods slowly.

“How about we have a quick little nap then, bug? If we sleep for too long, Dew will be happy to heat your dinner back up, okay?”

Aeon nods again. “Uh huh,” he slurs. “Am s’eepy, Swissy…”

Swiss kisses the top of his head. “Such a sleepy little bubba, aren’t you, bug.” It’s not really a question, but Aeon nods anyway. “C’mon, little bat, snuggle up with me. And when you wake up, we can try and feed you some dinner, ‘kay?”

Swiss gives him another quick kiss—on his cheek this time—and Aeon nods his agreement. That sounds nice, and Swiss is so comfortable to snuggle with that Aeon can’t help his eyes from falling completely closed as the beginnings of a purr rumbles up from deep in Swiss’ chest.

He’s not sure if ends up falling asleep or not, but soon enough, his eyes crack open at the sound of Dew sliding the partition between the bunk area and the rest of the bus open and his soft footfalls as he makes his way over to Aeon’s bed.

“Hi, starlight,” he smiles. “How’s your tummy doing now?”

“Good!” He exclaims without thinking, but as he takes the time to think about how he’s feeling, he realises it’s true, he feels a lot better than he did earlier.

“Well, that’s very good to hear,” Dew begins, “because I’ve brought you something…” He shows Aeon the contents of the bowl in his hands—the little quintessence ghoul’s favourite bat bowl and fork as promised—and Aeon lets out a shriek of happiness at the sight of his favourite meal so loud that it jolts Swiss awake.

Dew laughs loudly at Swiss’ sleepy confusion as the fire ghoul climbs over the bed onto Aeon’s other side. Once Swiss registers what’s happening and that Aeon has another caregiver here to look after him, he flops back asleep, wrapping a protective arm around Aeon’s waist. Dew helps Aeon sit back up against the pillows behind him and helps him drink a sip of water from the bottle beside him to help wake him up enough to stomach his dinner. “Want me to help feed you, bubba?”

Aeon nods, hugging both his plushie and the water bottle tightly against his chest. “Am hung’y, Dewy.”

“Oh, I can imagine, starlight. You haven’t eaten anything since lunch!” As he speaks, Dew mixes the contents of the bowl around, cooling the warm food down enough for Aeon to tolerate without too many troubles. “C’mon, open up for me, bubba. Yeah, that’s it.” He smiles down at Aeon as he chews his food happily, giggling in delight when it doesn’t upset his stomach. “Not too hot?”

“No, ‘s good! Super yummy, t’ank you, Dewy,” he rocks back and forth happily as he swirls the taste of his comfort food around in his mouth, doing his best not to jostle the sleeping multi ghoul next to him.

“You’re welcome, Ae,” Dew smiles. “We’ll get you fed and then the three of us can go to sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, okay!”

“Perfect. Ready for your next bite?” Dew scoops another mouthful onto Aeon’s bat fork. “Open up, starlight.”

#in my head aeon's comfort food when he's little is warmed baked beans and sausages with the sausages cut up into little bite-sized pieces :) #i know i left it ambiguous in the fic but that's what was happening in my mind #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #regressed ghouls #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #ghostie writes #🌧️ anon

[nights-legacy]

Body Snatched-Best Jeanist Platonic

Masterlist ~ MHA Masterlist ~ #2

Body Snatched Masterlist

1654 Words

Warnings: unwanted advances, unwanted touches, attempted assault, crudeness, violence (if there's any I need to add, please let me know)

+ You had been a sidekick under Best Jeanist for a few years. He had hand-picked you when it came to intership and working under him. You had become like family to him. So when someone couldn't take a hint and continued making you uncomfortable after you said you weren't interested, he didn't take it lightly. Especially when that person goes way out of line.

~

There were a few people in Best Jeanist's agency that you don't get along with. One especially because they would not take no for an answer when you turned them down. One day, after they got switched in a quirk accident with one of your friends at the agency, he decides to try as them. Too bad it gets to the head hancho before he could "convince" you.

Y/N's POV

"Here are the reports for the train accident this morning. And this is my half of the report for that Blackout villain from yesterday." I handed Best Jeanist the folders. He nodded while setting them in front of him. "Has there been any update on that mall attack from this afternoon?"

"Yes, it seems that the villain had a quirk that set off other people's quirks. The amount of people affected is still unknown as well as what all the quirks involved were." He explained.

"Damn." I bit my lip. "Anything I can do?"

"No. Some of the heroes are already returning. You have already put in over a full day. Go home." He looked away from his computer and I knew he was smiling under this suit. "I mean it."

"Fine." I left his office and walked through the agency. I greeted a few people and checked on some of the returning coworkers. I was just about to get to the locker rooms when I heard a familiar voice calling out to me.

"L/N!" I turn to see Mist Walker or Minato Kolby. the was my best friend here and had the power of fog and mist.

"Hey Mist!" I waved. "You were involved with the attack right?"

"Yeah but I'm alright." He smiled and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

"Good." I sighed in relief. "I was worried."

"I'm alright sweetheart." He said. The nickname was new. I could feel the energy shift between us.

"Well, I'm on my way home. I'm going to take a shower and get out of here. See ya." I waved and retreated to the locker rooms. 

I quickly went to my locker and stripped out of my hero suit. I groaned in relief. The showers were very nice here. Jeanist made sure we were taken care of in everyway under his roof. The hot water ran down my back and over my sore muscles. The locker room doors opened but it didn't bother me. I swore I heard the lock shift though.

"Hello?" I called out. there was no answer. I quickly finished up and turned the water off, wrapping my towel around me. I walked out and looked around. The energy in the room was way off.

"Did I scare you?" Mist whispered in my ear.

"Holy shit! Dude!" I turned and hit him in the chest. I shook my head. He chuckled and I went to my locker. "Not funny."

"Maybe a little bit it was." I rolled my eyes and unwrapped my towel. I saw his eyes widen.

"What's wrong?"

"Um, you're naked."

"Yeah. It's not like you haven't seen it before dude." I began to dry off and dry my hair. I noticed he was staring at my body in hunger. "Kolby? You good?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, perfectly fine." He continued to stare which was very weird. I slowly rewrapped my towel around me.

"No you're not. You're staring at me as if I were your last meal." I said.

"And?" He met my gaze and shrugged his shoulders. "What's wrong with that?"

"You're married! And he would be pissed if he knew."

"What a minute, What?" He exclaimed. The look in his eyes told me he was genuinely confused. 

"You definitely had something happen out there today." I picked up my phone to call someone when a simple text from Jeanist on my phone made me pause. Mist is Raven. Raven or Tanaka Daichi. He was another coworker that was almost obsessed with me. He wouldn't take no for an answer when I turned him down.

"So you and Mist aren't together?" I turned to him.

"No, we're not." I said, annoyed. "You just exposed yourself as Raven."

"Shit" He muttered. The locker rooms had quirk dampeners to try and discourage fights in there. I was upset about that because one on one, I could never beat Mist. He was stronger than me by a lot. So Raver in Mist's body was a recipe for disaster.

"Leave now. I've told you time and time again, I am not interested." He glared at me.

"Maybe I could convince you..." He started advancing on me. I stepped back and avoided him.

"Nothing you could do could convince me."

"We'll see." He charged at me and being only in a towel was a disadvantage. He was able to grab me and pull me back into his chest. 

"Shit! Let go!" I tried to elbow him but he pinned my arms to my side. I squirmed and unforchunately, my towel slipped off. He laughed and let his hands travel across my naked skin.

"Well look at that." He licked my neck before grabbing my chin harshly. He turned my face and kissed me, sticking his tongue down my throat. I pursed away When he let go. He picked me up and took me to the floor. I tried to fight him but he pinned me to the ground by straddling my back.

"Get off!" I yelled. The room was getting stuffy and it was getting hard to breathe. I could hear him unbuckling his belt. With a hand on the center of my back he got off and pulled my hips up. "No!"

"Stop moving!" He sneered, molding his body over mine. I could feel him trying to enter me but was having trouble due to impatience.

"No, no, no." I began to panic.

As everything was getting too overwhelming and he was about to push in, he froze up above me. Everything went still and I was finally able to breathe. I risked a look over my shoulder to see him looking like he could barely breathe. I looked down to see his shirt was extremely tight. I took the opportunity to crawl away from him.

"Ah!" I was spooked when a towel was immediately flung over me. I pulled it in close and looked around. Best Jeanist stood at the door to the locker room. Tears clouded my eyes. Half from the situation at hand and then half from the embarrassment of being seen in this situation. I wrapped the towel around me, grabbed my clothes, and darted to the other side of the room. I hid in a corner.

"Get this seam ripper out of here." I faintly heard Best Jeanist snap as I got dressed. Silent tears cascaded down my face. Footsteps came towards me but I was too embarrassed to look up.

"L/N? Are you hurt?" I shook my head. He sighed and sat on the floor next to me. I shrunk into myself. "Hey... it's going to be alright. Maybe not now or even tomorrow. But this can be mended."

"I should have..."

"No." He cut me off firmly. "None of this was your fault. He is completely to blame. He broke his stitch. What he did was out of lime, unforgivable, and he is going to be cut and arrested."

"Okay." I nodded. He placed a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him. He smiled under his collar.

"You are not a broken hem that can't be restitched." I chuckled through the tears.

"Thank you." I said. He poked me into a hug.

"You're welcome." I hugged him for a while. "You are taking a required leave for at least two weeks."

"But sir..." 

"If you argue I will make it 4 weeks." He said. I sighed and agreed. "I also want you to go see a therapist. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Okay. I will also be checking up on you after." He said before getting up. "Come on. I'm making sure you get home Okay."

"Thank you." I got up and got my stuff. We walked through the halls towards the exit.

"Y/N! Wait!" I turned to see Kolby running my way. I gasped. "It's me I promise. I've already been told what happened and I'm so sorry! Raven got knocked out and then we were switched. I had no way of telling anyone until I woke up. I'm so sorry, N/N."

"Kolby." I hugged him before pulling away.

"Mr. Minato. I want you to go to the physician immediately and then you are required to take at least a week off. Am I clear?" Jeanist ordered.

"Yes sir."

"Good, now I need to get L/N home."

"Goodbye Sir. Bye N/N. Get some rest."

"I will." We walked to the parking garage and to his car. Once We made it to my apartment, he ruffled my hair.

"If you need anything. don't hesitate to ask."

"I won't. Thanks, Jeanist. You've always looked out for me."

"You're welcome, L/N. You've become like family to me and I look out for my family." I smile and step out of the car. "Text me when you get inside your apartment. Okay?"

"Okay. Goodnight, Jeanist."

"Goodnight, my dear." I started to walk away. "Oh, and L/N?"

"Yes?" I turned back.

"There will be someone posted outside for a weele just in case. For anything."

"Okay." I turned and Went into the safety of my apartment.

Tag List: @lilparcheesie @dxnaii-rxse @iris-shihabi @cl0verbby @keigos-baby-bird

#imagine #imagines #my hero academia #mha x reader #mha #mha imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia imagines #bnha imagines #bnha #best jeanist #best Jeanist Platonic #best jeanist x reader #platonic imagine #best jeanist x platonic reader #best jeanist imagine #bnha x reader #bnha best jeanist #mha best jeanist #my hero academia x reader #my hero x reader #boku no hero imagines #requested #body snatched series

[grahamfolgersdeliciousnotebooks]

There were a lot of instances, really, that could be considered their "first kiss." A look at some moments that might, depending on your perspective, count as Jon and Martin's first kiss. For the Jonmartin week day 1 prompt "First Kiss" - Updates one chapter a day, every day of Jonmartin Week.

For day 8 of @jonmartinweek, here's chapter 8 of my "first kiss" fic! Enjoy some post-Lonely content, and Jon and Martin's first kiss (or their ninth, depending on how you count it)!

They ended up in Martin’s apartment, after everything.

They didn’t have a lot of other options. Jon had been functionally homeless ever since the coma, and he wasn’t eager to return to the archives. So Jon let himself be led by the Eye to Martin’s doorstep, and Martin let himself be led by Jon.

Martin didn’t say anything, and Jon didn’t press. He just held firmly onto Martin’s hand to reassure himself that he hadn’t disappeared again.

He dropped his hand when they finally arrived, and the pair stood in the foyer, awkward and uncertain. Martin looked numb and entirely lost, and Jon knew he would need to take charge of the situation, but he was at a loss for what to do. The only suggestion he could think to make was a weak,

“Tea?”

Martin nodded, and Jon shuffled into the kitchen to make it. He couldn’t keep from glancing behind him as he worked, to where Martin still stood in the entryway, staring blankly into space. He didn’t move until the kettle began to whistle. Then he startled, and snapped all at once out of whatever trance he’d been lost in.

“Oh, here,” he murmured, coming into the kitchen and raising his hands to help, “Let me…”

“I’ve got it,” Jon said softly. He poured the hot water into two mugs and stirred in the sugar while Martin watched him with an open, aching look of want. There was something oddly wounded in his expression, too. He stared at Jon’s hands, bobbing the teabags in the water, like he wanted to touch them but knew, somehow, that they would burn him.

“Here,” Jon said when he had discarded the tea bags and added the milk. Martin accepted it with a mumbled, 

“Thanks.” Their fingers brushed as he handed over the mug, and Jon flinched against the cold of Martin’s hand.

“You’re freezing.”

“Sorry,” Martin mumbled, and Jon hated it – hated the blankness in his voice, hated the instinctual way he took on blame, as though everything about him was something that required an apology, the same way he had in the Lonely.

“No, it’s– You should really change, though. Your clothes are soaked.”

“You should, too,” Martin said, because Jon’s own clothes were still damp through from all that damned fog.

“I– I don’t have any spare clothes.”

“I could lend you some,” Martin said. He set down his mug. “Come on. This is too hot to drink right now, anyway.”

He led Jon to his bedroom and picked out some clothes for him – a pair of grey joggers and an old tee shirt with the words Magnus Institute Library Team Building Retreat 2013 printed on the front.

“I’ll just be a second,” Jon said before excusing himself to the bathroom to change.

The clothes were several sizes too big. It took quite a bit of cinching the drawstring waist before the joggers would stay up, and the shirt hung awkwardly off his thin frame, exposing his clavicle and most of his shoulder. It was not the most flattering outfit he had ever worn, but it was warm and dry, and smelled pleasantly of laundry soap.

When he stepped out into the hallway, Martin was already there, changed into a dry pair of jeans and a thick sweater. He glanced at Jon in his ill-fitting borrowed clothes, and for the first time in a very long time, Jon caught him smiling.

“I know, I know,” he muttered. “I look ridiculous.”

“No, you– you look nice.”

Jon opened his mouth. It seemed important to say something to that, though he was at a loss for quite what. Before he could make up his mind, his phone began to buzz in his pocket.

“Basira,” he told Martin when he checked the screen. “I should take this.”

He wandered into the living room while he spoke to her. She updated him on the state of Daisy, the Hunters, and the police, and Jon let her know that they’d gone back to Martin’s apartment.

“How is he?” 

“He’s… alive,” Jon said, because it was too early to say if he was fine, or safe, or unharmed. But once he’d said it, the truth of his words finally sank in. A disbelieving laugh escaped him as he repeated, suddenly giddy, “He’s alive, Basira!”

They both agreed that he and Martin should leave London as quickly as possible, and she told him that Daisy had a safehouse where they could lay low for a time.

“What’s Martin’s address? I’ll swing by and give you the key.”

“I can text it to you in a second…”

“No. No text conversations, no paper trails,” Basira said. It was hard to make out exactly what she said next, given their shaky phone connection, but it sounded a whole lot like she muttered, “...can’t believe we never caught you.”

When Jon hung up, Martin was hovering in the doorway between the corridor and the living room, and he was crying.

“Martin!”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I’m sorry I worried you. I’m sorry for all of it.” His voice was soft and shattered, and Jon remembered his own voice, too excited to consider volume. He’s alive, Basira! Martin would have to have heard it. 

“Martin,” Jon said again, more warmly this time. He closed the distance between them and pulled Martin close until their foreheads were resting against each other. “You don’t need to apologize.” Martin was solid beneath his touch, but the memory of how evanescent he’d been, just an hour before, loomed in his mind. “Just stay with me,” he whispered, and Martin flashed him a weak smile.

“Always.”

Their faces were so close Jon could feel the warmth of Martin’s breath sigh across his cheeks.

Jon paused a moment, savoring the closeness, the solid, certain weight of Martin against him. Then he tilted his head up to close the last remaining space between them and pressed his lips to Martin’s.

Martin responded immediately, reaching up to clutch at Jon’s back, pulling him closer, kissing him back with a desperation Jon was only too willing to match. When Jon licked into his mouth, he let out a high, keening, hungry noise that made Jon shiver. He wanted quite badly to make Martin make that noise again.

Nipping gently at Martin’s bottom lip did the trick, he learned to his delight. Letting the hand that wasn’t gripping Martin’s hair drift down to his waist and slip under his shirt provoked a higher, more surprised noise that Jon liked almost as much. He would have gladly spent the whole night cataloguing the sounds, but he felt something wet roll across his cheek, and he realized with a jolt that Martin was crying.

He pulled away instantly and began to apologize. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he stammered. “Is– is this too soon?”

Martin shook his head. “No,” he whispered, “it’s a year too late.”

Jon’s heart sank. He should have known, he should have realized he’d missed his chance. Martin caught his expression, and his eyes widened.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean–” He scrubbed at his wet cheeks and let out a quiet laugh. “How am I still mucking this up?” he whispered to himself. Jon just watched him, wide-eyed. “I meant,” he said finally, leaning down to press one more chaste kiss to Jon’s lips, “that we have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

And Jon wasn’t going to argue with that.

#tma fanfic #tma fic #jonmartin fic #jmart fic #jonmartin fanfic #jonmartin week 2024 #jonmartinweek 2024 #do not archive

[blackberrysummerblog]

I liiiive! I cannot believe how long it’s been since I’ve posted an excerpt on here, but it’s been a pretty spoonless month (cue lengthy attempt at discussing the situation followed by a quick delete, because seriously? Whine moar 🙄). Thank you so much to all you lovelies who have kept tagging me; it’s been so nice to feel remembered! @wellbelesbian, @j-nipper-95, @orange-peony, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold, @alleycat0306, @artsyunderstudy, @prettygoododds, @shrekgogurt, @larkral, @valeffelees, @fatalfangirl, @facewithoutheart, @nightimedreamersworld, @rimeswithpurple, @forabeatofadrum, @confused-bi-queer and @cutestkilla all tagged me recently and I’ve been so delighted to see what you’ve all been working on! This fandom really has the most talented writers and artists <3

As for me, I’ve been working on a few things as well! Some of you may have seen a woeful post last week when I realized I’d been writing one of my CORBs in a file I’d unwittingly created on my work account. *chef’s kiss* Beautiful. The upshot of that is that I lost thousands of words after hastily and permanently deleting the file, then buried myself under six feet of rocky soil in the backyard. But I’ve since climbed out and have been recreating it! (In my PERSONAL documents this time!) I’m not sure I’m allowed to say who I’m collaborating with or how much of the summary I can share, but I don’t think it’s giving away too much to say that it’s an AU where Baz is a demon nobleman in hell and Simon is a mortal merman who catches his eye. It’s a really creative concept and I’m excited to be working on it! Here’s a few more than six sentences (and some other fic excerpt shares) under the cut:

I’m lost in the dream again when Métis buzzes in my ear, and I try my damnedest not to hear her. I roll over and pull the shadows closer, but she burrows in nonetheless. “No,” I grumble as blue eyes and golden scales slip away from me once more, leaving nothing but ripples in the fluidity of retreating sleep. As I sit up and scowl at my father’s right hand pest, I can just about recall the setting sun limning bronze curls with a reddish halo.

Halo—ha.

“He wantsz to szeeee you,” Métis hums, settling alight in her favorite spot atop the curve of my left horn. “Sayszz it’s important.”

There’s just the barest fog of despair weaving around my ankles as I make my way to Father’s chambers, nurturing the chill that always permeates my corporeal form. An unexpected meeting seldom brings good news, but I wouldn’t say speaking with him is the last way I’d want to spend these early hours—the hypocritamus pools need sieving, after all. Depending on their recent diet and the subject Father wishes to discuss, the difference may be vanishingly slight.

The second thing I’ve been working on is from an anon prompt on @carryonprompts, which I’m going to paraphrase as “post-awtwb Simon getting kidnapped and Baz (plus Penny and Sheperd) having to be the one to play the hero to Simon’s damsel for a change.” Here’s six sentences:

I pull him up to his knees and kick his legs apart, stabilizing him.

Baz is so far out of this one’s league; I’ve never known what he sees in this deformed, ill-mannered, working-class mage.

He’s handsome enough in spite of the wings though, I suppose—in a brutish way. His eyes flash at me when I knot my fingers in his dirty hair to pull his head back, lifting his face. Square-jawed and broad through the shoulders and chest, thick-thighed, what we would have called a bit of rough, once. The faithful common laborer you could count on to throw you down on top of the bed for the pounding of a lifetime—is that all that Baz wants him for?

Lastly, a good bit more than 6 sentences from my still-unpublished crucible marriage AU, just because. I know I once posted a paragraph where Baz was taking Simon clothes shopping after being scandalized by the state of his drawers, and this is a resulting scene:

“Baz!” Snow shouts from the changing room. Balthazar’s balls, what’s the issue? He can’t want me to go in there. “Baz, c’mere!” He…wants me to go in there. I take a deep breath and push open the door fractionally.

“What, Snow?”

“Come in here!”

“I swear to magic, if you’re naked—” Oh. Oh, Crowley. This may somehow be worse. Simon is wearing the snug fitting blue knit shirt I sent him in with, and it would be showing off his biceps and chest enough to blow what’s left of my mind even if he didn’t have it hitched halfway up his abdomen. He’s changed into a pair of the short new boxer briefs we purchased in the last store (ordinarily I’d recoil at the notion of not washing them first, the heathen, but—Simon) and he’s gripping the waistband of a pair of soft grey trousers that he’s pulled halfway up his arse.

“I thought you might want to check out the new pants,” he says casually, nodding toward his backside as if I could pry my eyes away with a crowbar. “Do these get the seal of approval, then?”

I can’t speak. I think I may be salivating. Simon grins at me then, dragging one side of the trousers up while letting the other drop below the curve of his world-ending arse. He shimmies the exposed cheek in my direction, working himself into the trousers one centimeter at a time.

“You menace,” I hiss, unable to modulate my voice to a normal speaking level.

“What?” He finishes hitching the trousers up and leans back against the wall, not bothering to do up the flies. “Do I look OK?”

“No.” His face falls and I can’t bear it, even for a joke. “You look delicious. Absolutely debauched.”

“Debauched?!” Simon’s offended moue melts into something else as I slink toward him purposefully. “I don’t look debauched.”

He does. Trousers open, shirt still pushed up over his navel, curls in disarray from his habit of manhandling them when frustrated. I lean over him, my feet on either side of his, and he’s even farther beneath me than usual because of how he’s slouched back against the wall. He gasps softly when I take hold of his waistband and fasten the button of his trousers, my knuckles grazing the soft hair on his belly.

“Baz…nngh.”

I’ve drawn the zipper up carefully, but not so carefully that I’m not palming him over his trousers. I’ve barely touched him, but I note with satisfaction the goose flesh rising on his forearms. “Shh, love,” I murmur in his ear, tugging down his shirt so that it covers his stomach. Once he’s no longer indecent, I run both hands up under his shirt, squeezing at his thick, firm waist. Simon moans, tipping his head back to expose his long neck, and I’m dropping kiss after kiss there when I hear a sudden clearing of someone’s throat behind us.

It’s the changing room attendant, scowling in through the door that I foolishly left open. “Can I bring you gentlemen any different sizes?”

And that’s about it! I’d tag people if I hadn’t gotten to post this so late in the day, but as it stands I think most everyone’s already posted today. I hope everyone’s had a great week and that the next one is even better! :)

#I return #six sentence sunday #snowbaz #carry on reverse bang 2023 #corb 2023 #crucible marriage au #crucible au #married by the crucible au #and an anon prompt project! #because I’m already overwhelmed why not #simon snow #Baz pitch

[minimitchell]

high on you - (ao3 link)

set in april 2021, ben helps callum cross "get high" off his teenage-bucket list

.

The house is quiet and settled when Ben finally steps out of the bathroom, the mirrors fogged up from the steam of the water, and crosses the landing towards his and Callum’s bedroom. His hair is still wet from the shower, short strands falling messily onto his forehead, and he didn’t bother covering up with a towel - they’re all alone tonight anyway.

His dad took Kat freaking Slater on a weekend getaway - he didn’t ask for any details; it’s easier to pretend this whole thing isn’t happening at all the less he knows about it -, Lola is out with Isaac and his mum was gracious enough to take Lexi for the night so him and Callum can have a nice evening to themselves for once.

They definitely took advantage of the rare night off from everything. Ben had ordered them some takeout to devour after Callum had come home from his shift today and they had watched a movie downstairs afterwards, before finally retreating upstairs to their room.

It had been nice to just have a quiet meal and watch a movie together. They so rarely get to do this; there’s always someone running around in the house or someone wanting them to deal with something - not to mention all the wedding planning that has taken over every aspect of their life recently - that just existing and talking about mundane things with each other seems like the most amazing thing to them.

The peace and calm from tonight only fueled the wish brewing in Ben’s chest; the want for their own place to call home expanding ever since they got engaged. It’s the natural next step anyway. Once they’re married they should get their own place, away from his dad and everything that comes with living here.

A nice flat maybe. With an extra bedroom for Lexi to stay whenever she wants to. Or maybe a three bedroom one, just in case.

He shrugs the thought off for now, not wanting to get caught up in some faraway fantasy of how their life could potentially play out. They have more than enough time to get there. He just has to remind himself to enjoy the journey there and not try to hurry along to the good bits.

Callum is already lying in bed, dressed only in his boxers on top of the sheets. He’s scrolling through something on his phone, probably wasting time by looking through his social media, his other hand resting on his naked chest. Ben takes a minute to let his eyes roam over the length of him, just admiring his fiancé’s body from head to toe, and it doesn’t take long for Callum to look up from his phone and take in his own fill.

There’s heat in Callum’s eyes when his gaze drops lower; that same fire flickering behind his eyes like it always does whenever he’s looking at a naked Ben. Almost two years to the dot of them knowing each other and the pull between them never diminishes, never stifles or flickers. It’s always there, simmering between them and pulling the other in like magic.

It burns so bright in his veins that Ben almost forgets about the thing hiding in his bedside drawer - the little plan he’d come up with a few days ago. His hidden agenda for their evening alone together. He was just waiting for the right time to bring this up and now seems pretty perfect to him.

The idea had come to him a couple of days ago after they had found an old document, some sort of list, in Callum’s stuff.

They discovered it while looking for all of the documents necessary for their wedding, hidden away between birth certificates and old school reports. Apparently, it had been a school assignment from ages ago that somehow survived years and several moves across London and the square respectively.

At first, it had been fun to read all the things a young Callum wanted to achieve before he turned the big 3-0, but Callum had become more subdued the longer they looked at it, ultimately realizing he hadn’t actually done most of the things on there.

Sure, some things were just musings of a teenager that doesn’t really know how the world works yet and Callum was well aware that he wouldn’t ever become a millionaire and live in a mansion, but other things seemed to bother him more than he’d thought.

To him, seeing so many things he hadn’t managed to achieve by now just screamed failure. Even though he’s more than halfway there to cross off the get married and have kids bullet points.

Ben had tried to argue that this arbitrary list of things Callum had written years ago when he had been a completely different person - hell, at the time he barely was his own person yet - says nothing about his current life and his accomplishments. And while Callum had agreed with him at the time, Ben could tell in the days following that there were still some lingering doubts there.

And because making sure that Callum is happy has pretty much become his sole mission in life somewhere along the way, Ben messaged an old contact and got something that’s going to help them cross at least one item off of that stupid list.

“You wanna watch some Netflix?“

Ben sinks down onto the bed next to Callum, the hand that’s not holding his phone coming to rest on Ben’s naked thigh when he sits down facing him. His thumb brushes across the soft skin there, causing a shiver to run down Ben’s spine whenever it dips inwards.

“Actually, I have a little proposition for you.“

Callum makes an inquisitive noise, eyebrows darting up towards his own shower-soft hair. Whatever Ben has planned seems to intrigue him enough that he locks his phone and puts it on his nightstand, before turning back to Ben.

His eyes are clear and alert and just so blue that it rushes over Ben like a tidal wave that he’s going to be his forever. He often finds himself looking over at Callum and marbling over how gorgeous he is and how unbelievable it still seems to him that this man is loving none other than him so completely and unconditionally.

This is no different. He’s so overcome with emotions for a moment that he has to reach out and run his hand over the side of Callum’s face affectionately, smiling when Callum leans into the touch almost absentmindedly.

“I know you said you don’t care about that list but I thought, maybe, we could cross something off together. Only if you want to, of course.“

“Okay?“

Ben leans forward to press a soft kiss to Callum’s lips for no other reason than to feel them against his own right now. When he’s momentarily satisfied, he turns around to fish out the little bag with the joint inside and an ashtray he had stashed there earlier out of the drawer, grabbing the little, blue lighter he keeps in there as well. They sometimes use it for candles when they’re feeling particularly romantic. Today he’s going to use it for something a little different.

“Can you open the window?“

Callum doesn’t question him, obviously willing to wait out whatever Ben is planning to do, turning onto his knees so he can reach up and open the window next to the headboard. Ben uses the time to dump everything on the bed between them, reaching back to also grab the lube and place it on the nightstand just in case. If high Callum is anything like drunk Callum, they’re gonna need it pretty soon.

Seeing the little get high in Callum’s squiggly handwriting, written in a tiny font on the edge of the paper like it had been something he didn’t want his teacher to see, had definitely been a surprise. His fiancé tried to reason it away with the fact that he had been like fifteen when he had written it, but Ben had been having way too much fun with that particular wish. Who knew even then there was a little bad boy hiding under all the decency and niceness?

When Callum turns back around his gaze falls straight to the blunt lying on their light blue sheets, still neatly wrapped in the plastic bag. The guy he got it from had looked at him funny for wanting just one, already rolled joint but Ben didn’t care; he was doing it for Callum and only for him.

“You serious?“

Callum’s fingers run over the edge of the baggy, prodding until he gets it open, dipping into it carefully. He looks hesitant, like he wants to take it but is waiting for a cue from Ben that he’s actually allowed to. Like they’re both fifteen again somehow.

“Listen, babe. I might not be able to give you that mansion you wanted to live in yet, but I can give you this. What d’you say?“

The edge of Callum’s bottom lip disappears into his mouth for a moment while his eyes travel from the blunt up to Ben’s face in front of him. It’s apparently enough time for him to make up his mind because the next thing he gives Ben is a decisive nod, that barely hides the excitement breaking out over his face.

The air around them is cooling rapidly thanks to the open window, April in London changing from sunshine to snow at the drop of a hat at the moment, so Ben grabs a discarded hoodie from the floor to throw over his lower half. Maybe being naked wasn’t his best idea.

Ben takes the baggy away from Callum’s fingers and pulls out the joint, pressing it between his lips as he lights it up. The tip of it burns bright red as he takes the first deep drag, letting the citrussy blend fill his lungs. He doesn’t smoke a lot, not anymore anyway, wanting to set a good example for Lexi, but sometimes when he’s had a lot to drink he likes smoking the odd cigarette here and there.

He hasn’t smoked weed in years though, never really had the urgent desire to buy some to be honest, but as the smoke fills him he remembers how much he liked it at times. Callum almost looks hungry in front of him, eyes trained on Ben’s lips in open curiosity. It prompts Ben to take another drag before taking the blunt between thumb and forefinger and passing it over to Callum.

It takes all of Ben’s willpower not to laugh at the expression on Callum’s face right now, somewhere between overwhelmed and determined, but he doesn’t want Callum to feel self-conscious about this. He isn’t really one for smoking. Ben has only seen him with a cigarette once in the entire time they’ve been together, which was coincidentally also the drunkest he’s ever experienced Callum, and it’s obvious he doesn’t really have much of an idea what he’s doing.

Callum takes a deep drag, trying to mimic Ben’s from before but he doesn’t quite manage it, spluttering out a string of coughs. It happens again on his next and that’s enough for Ben to take pity on him, taking the blunt from him and pressing a quick kiss to his lips as a silent apology.

“Come on, it’s easier like this. Just breathe in when I breathe out, yeah?”

Ben lets the hoodie fall away as he slings his leg over Callum’s, climbing into his lap to get better, more comfortable, access to his face. Callum’s hands immediately settle on his thighs, almost like on autopilot.

He takes another long drag from the blunt but instead of swallowing it down he keeps the smoke in his mouth, leaning forward to seal his lips over Callum’s and blowing it past Callum’s open lips into his mouth. It must work better for Callum like this because there’s no coughing this time around. Instead, Ben watches the way his eyes close as he takes in the taste of that particular blend, pressing his lips together like he can somehow chase it.

They shotgun a few more breaths between them and every time their lips linger against each other for a moment longer, desperate to be kissed by one another. Everything around them feels slowed down already, like the air surrounding them is made of syrup and everything is out of focus.

“I can’t believe you never smoked weed before.”

Ben’s voice sounds quiet and rubbery even to his own ears; the words stretched out and unnaturally long. Callum’s hands have traveled to the naked skin of Ben’s back, running up and down along the dip of his spine and ghosting over the swell of his ass against Callum’s thighs.

His movements simultaneously feel slowed-down and heightened at the same time, almost like he’s burning every part of skin he touches. It feels so incredibly good that Ben feels completely breathless from the touch alone; everything zeroed-down to Callum’s hands on his flesh.

“You know I wasn’t like that. Didn’t have many friends, was too shy.”

Ben blows another breath of smoke into Callum’s mouth, tongue running along his bottom lip this time before he leans back again. There’s only a small nub left for them to share, two or three more drags at most, and he’s certain that if it isn’t Callum that’s going to initiate the sex after this, it’ll definitely be him.

He can’t tear his eyes away from Callum; from the way his lips open in anticipation every time Ben takes the blunt into his mouth, from the way he’s gone all heavy-lidded and pliant underneath him. He’s irresistible to Ben any day but right now he’s almost burning with desire for his fiancé.

“You can’t tell me Lee Carter has never smoked weed before.”

The hand that’s not holding the blunt is running up and down Callum’s chest, minutely catching on his nipple on his way over the planes of his body.

Ben takes another drag, blowing it into Callum’s waiting mouth. This time though, he closes it while Ben is still pressed against him, uniting their lips in a soft kiss. He tastes of weed and minty toothpaste and that mixture does it for Ben for some strange reason, and he finds himself deeping their kiss for a moment, letting their tongues brush against one another.

He could easily get lost in this, get lost in Callum, every time they do this. Kissing him will never fail to leave Ben dazed and wanting more; no matter how often they find themselves doing this. He tried to keep track of them at the beginning; tried to note how often he seeks out Callum’s lips in a day and whether it’s unreasonable that he keeps feeling like it’s never enough anyway.

He gave up when he realized he doesn’t have the ability to think about anything else when he’s pressing kisses to Callum’s lips.

“Have you always tasted this good?”

Callum sighs the words onto Ben’s wet lips, sounding completely blissed out. It almost sounds like he’s on a different plane of existence, where nothing is as important as the two of them in this little space they’ve created for themselves, blissful and soft.

Ben is about to reply, to maybe tease him into kissing him some more, when the sound of quiet giggles fills the space between them, tumbling out of Callum’s mouth completely unrestrained. It’s like someone flipped a switch and changed the atmosphere from what was definitely shaping up to be foreplay to the sort of giddy amusement you get when you haven’t slept in hours.

It’s almost textbook, clichéd behavior when someone gets high, but the fact that it’s coming from Callum underneath him is so incredibly endearing that Ben can’t help but join in, matching Callum’s little giggles with a bright laugh of his own.

“You’re so high, Cal.”

Ben lets his head fall forward onto Callum’s shoulder in amusement, pressing a kiss to the taut skin there just because it’s underneath him now. He’s definitely feeling the effects as well, he won’t lie about that, but it’s just too funny to see Callum like this. He’s always so controlled and conscious of himself; it’s always fascinating to see him just be silly and carefree. He only ever lets himself be like this with Lexi or when it’s just him and Ben in the privacy of their room - where they don’t have to hide or pretend - and seeing it now makes his heart flutter in his chest.

Or maybe that’s Callum’s general effect on him anyway.

“I am . I’m high. I’m a police officer and I’m high.”

He says it like it’s some huge revelation he’s having. Like it’s some epiphany he’s just figured out and for his drug-fueled brain it might as well be. Ben knows that Callum lets a lot of things slide because of him when it comes to his job and under the defiance whispering that it’s the least he can do after accepting this job despite their relationship, he’s just thankful to have a man like this by his side.

A man with unwavering loyalty and love for him.

Which is why seeing him like he is now is all the better.

“Well I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

Ben brings the last piece of the remaining blunt up to his lips, breathing in deeply one last time before sharing it with his husband-to-be. He makes sure he puts the nub out in the ashtray, leaning to the side to leave the tray securely on the nightstand away from them. They’ll have to make sure no one sees the remnants of their little experimentation here, especially Lexi, who’s not above simply strolling into their bedroom at times.

They’ve become really good at hiding certain things in their room.

He closes the window next, shutting out the cold gust of air blowing into the room and leaving only chilled warmth behind. He falls back onto Callum’s thighs when he’s done; their eyes meeting instantly with the way Callum is following his every move with rapt attention.

Their hands settle back onto each other’s skin; Callum’s fingers running up his chest and settling on each side of his neck, thumbs brushing against that good spot at the hinges of his jaw. Callum always knows how and where to touch him just right; has always been able to reduce Ben to each single atom and assemble him back together with just his gentle hands and nimble fingers.

His hands though, don’t even hold a torch to his eyes.

Ben’s downright addicted to the way Callum’s pretty blue eyes follow him anytime he steps foot into the same room as him. He loves how literal that saying is with Callum, how his eyes really are the window to his feelings, to his soul. When Callum is looking at him, he knows what he’s thinking and what he’s feeling.

And he knows where his future is.

He just has to look at him to remember.

“I wanna kiss you.”

Callum leans forward to trail his lips along Ben’s jaw, not pressing into the skin but just trawling along, letting his bottom lip catch on the coarse stubble there. The action forces a sigh out of Ben’s mouth, anticipation building in the pit of his stomach. He wants his fiancé so badly, but there’s no rush in him. Everything else feels slowed-down around them, like time is as thick as molasses all of a sudden, and he doesn’t feel bad about drawing this out as well.

“Congrats, you can. Anytime you want.”

He holds his left hand up as proof, presenting the finger where pretty soon a ring is going to sit shiny and proudly, put there by Callum as a sign of his commitment to Ben. And he’s going to do the same, prove to everyone that this man is it for him for the rest of his life. Their life.

“I might never stop.”

Their eyes meet again and almost as with a snap of the fingers, the atmosphere changes between them; that familiar desperation finding its way back into every touch.

The weed might’ve made him mellow and relaxed but Callum sets his entire soul alight.

“God, I hope you don’t.”

They must lean in at the exact same time, their lips smashing together forcefully, hands kneading the skin underneath them. Their tongues brush back against the other, more desperate and pressing this time. It’s not that they don’t have time, they have more than enough of that tonight, it’s just that they can’t wait anymore to feel that connection with each other.

Callum’s hand runs down over his back while their lips find each other in a steady stream of kisses, dipping down over the swell of his ass and finding his entrance, still faintly wet and opened from his preparations in the shower earlier. He knew there was no way they weren’t going to take advantage of having the house to themselves.

“You wanna?”

Almost two years and Callum still makes sure he’s okay, willing, with everything they do. They have tried a lot, finally having the luxury of having a partner they fully trust and feel comfortable with, but Callum always remembers to look after him; to check in on him and press soft kisses across his face.

It’s so different from some of the experiences he’s had with men over the years and he loves Callum all the more for that. He never feels bad, never feels used or cheap. Only loved.

“Yeah, please.”

Ben lets out a moan when Callum’s finger breaches him and they only get louder when Callum grabs the lube and opens him up again completely, all while never disconnecting their lips from one another. Every touch, every drag of his fingers inside of him lingers, intensified by the weed coursing through his veins.

They connect with pants and sighs, foreheads pressed together and hands gripping every stretch of skin they manage to reach. Every move feels heightened and slowed down at the same time and it might as well be hours they spend rocking into each other; muscles taut and strained.

Ben’s legs tighten against Callum’s hip, knees digging into the skin there, and Callum must know him better than he knows himself because he takes it as the subconscious sign it seems to be and wraps his arms around Ben to roll them over so that he’s covering Ben with his entire body now.

The action still takes Ben by surprise and he can’t help but let out a bright laugh, descending into giggles when Callum joins in for a second; their heads pressed against each other while they’re coming down from this wave of giddiness. It’s another thing that’s completely different to any other man he’s been with. There’s always room for laughter with Callum. For being silly and dizzy with happiness.

It’s the best feeling he’s ever felt.

Another deep kiss breaks when Callum starts moving again and Ben wraps arms and legs around him and just feels for a while, basking in the onslaught of sensations Callum brings him so generously.

Ben isn’t even aware of his orgasm approaching until he’s already being pulled under, head thrown back and gasping through it. It feels like he’s coming longer and more intense than usually, like he’s teetering just over the edge for minutes on end. Somewhere along the way, when he’s still floating just on the brink of awareness, Callum must join him in release, because he emerges from the haze with an armful of fiancé panting against his neck.

It’s quiet for a moment while they both catch their breaths; the air around them still seemingly sticky and sweet. The high is still there, still humming under his skin and singing in his veins, but it’s more subdued now. Like the background noise of a crowded street.

The feeling of Callum’s touches still lingers as well. It almost feels like his hands are everywhere at the same time, denting Ben’s skin where they wander over his arms, soothe over his legs or glide along his sides.

It’s peaceful. At least until Callum starts giggling again, high-pitched laughter interspersed with kisses pressed onto Ben’s neck. Apparently, he’s also not entirely sober and Ben can’t help but join in.

They’re sweaty and dirty and high on each other as much as the weed, still tangled together from head to toe. The giggles and shakes ultimately disconnect them with Callum slipping out of him and Ben takes his head securely in his hands to bring him back up to him, trying to press a kiss to his lips but they’re both laughing too much to make it a proper one.

It’s ridiculous, completely mad, but Ben can’t help but explode with love. He loves Callum so much it barely feels humanly possible sometimes.

There’s really no other man he wants to share his forever with.

For now though, he’ll settle on sharing a blunt, a bed and a life with him.

The rest will come.

#ballum #ballum fic #my writing #y'all asked for this here it is

[first-edition]

Breaking Seasons

Spencer reid x reader fan fiction

Go ahead and read the first chapter here

NEW CHAPTER UPDATE EVERY TEUSDAY AND THURSDAY.

Cw- violence, mature language and speak, gore, eventual smut, fluff, angst, abuse, childhood trauma, sexual themes, vewier discretion is advised.

Summary- When y/n takes her sick friends criminology class to take notes in the winter, she meets the guest speaker, BAU-FBI agent Spencer reid. After getting to know more about each other due to a college school related case, that ends up involving y/n herself, they naught just have each to keep warm.

Story begins under cut

Chapter 2

                                    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"He's...nice" You reply to Mave as you place down the pages of notes you wrote some while earlier. 

"Nice...just nice! Y/n your totally Into him." She says following with a cough. 

"No no no I'm not we just had a short conversation while walking to the lot it was nothing." You retort. 

"Thank you for these, by the way." She replies to you as she looks at the notes. "Go home before you catch it. You can leave the note in my mail slot next time, it goes right into the room." Mave waved you off as you grab your bag just as your about to walk out three loud gun shots are heard. Both you and Mave drop to the ground as a bullet flies through the dorms wall hitting and shattering a picture hanging. Retreating foot steps and people yelling are heard. 

"Mave?!" 

"Y/N!?" She replies you let out a sigh. 

"You alright?" You ask 

"Im good." She says standing up. You get up as well and walk to the door. 

"No Dont." She says as you put your hand to the knob and turn it opening the door slowly. You peek out not seeing anyone from the hall way but a hand sticking out from a dorm room. 

"Someone's hurt!" You exclaim to mave. Soon the other dorm rooms begin to open and people rush the halls to help.

The scene is soon cleared and bright yellow caution tape tapes off the dorm room and part of the hall. You sit with mave in her dorm the door open as police come in and out looking at the bullet hole now through her wall. 

"Y/n?" A familiar voice speaks out one you heard today. You look up seeing spencer enter the room he immediately comes over to you. 

"You alright?" He ask kneeling down to you. He wears blue latex gloves a black Fbi windbreaker jacket. 

You nod to him. Confused why he's so worried about you when someone is dead in the next room. 

"Im fine. Can I go now" You huff somehow annoyed with everyone around you all of a sudden. 

"Did they take a statement from you?" He asks 

"Yes four times Im annoyed, I'm tired, I'm cold, I'm hungry, i have homework to finish not to mention going to your stupid lecture for her class on Monday." You retort. He stands up and nods you sigh and get up walking out finally on your way home. 

Opening your door to you apartment you see your cat sleeping on the couch. You drop your coat and bag putting your keys on the side table and walk into the kitchen only to realize you were gonna go shopping this week but forgot, order out it is. Walking to the other room and down the hall to your bath room you undress and turn on the shower water letting it heat up as a cloud of stem fills the bathroom. The fogging up mirror and the cold tiles against your bare feet. Stepping in you let the eater run down your back soaking you hair. You sigh closing your eyes thinking about the crime scene you witnessed. The fact that spencer had to be involved meant it was part of something bigger that the fbi has to be involved. 

You finish you shower and dry off putting on underwear, fluffy socks, and a sweater. You dry off you hair in a towel and walk back into your living room greeting your still sleeping cat. You're about to sit on the couch when a knock rings out front the front door. You walk over and look through the peep hole expecting your food you ordered and it is you open the door and receive to food smiling and closing the door walking over to the couch and sitting down Turing on the tv enjoying the rest of your night. 

You walk through the hall of the house hearing gun shots over and over and over you stop to see you sisters hand peaking out of the door frame your mother standing over her holding out a gun shooting her body. Tears and fear fill your eyes as she looks up at you her eyes steering into yours not breaking the contact as you shake in fear. She smiles at you putting her finger to her lips in a hushing motion then puts the gun to her own head and pulls the trigger falling to the ground blood splatted on your face. 

Your alarm wakes you up harshly falling out of bed hitting the hard wood floor. Feeling like a bus had hi you. You huff sitting up moving your hair out of your face. You reach up hitting your phone to turn it off only for it to buzz again with a text. You get up and sit back down on the side of your bed looking at the texts from your ex constantly asking to talk, and meet up, that he misses you. You roll your eyes and get up turning your phone on do not disturb. And dropping it back on your bed.

Walking into your kitchen you see your cat sitting on the table waiting patiently to be fed. 

"Morning to you." You say taking out food and putting it in her bowl setting it down. She goes to it and eats meowing as a thank you. 

You open the cabinet and grab a mug looking around for the coffee and once again remembering that you forgot to go shopping. Placing the mug on the counter you walk back over to your room and get dressed. You put on black jeans and a thick badge sweater with a large black puffer jacket on top your badge scarf and black beanie you put on black boots grabbing your phone and mini back pack you walk to your door and grab your eyes. 

"Ill be back." You tell your cat and walk out the door. 

Parking in front of your favorite coffee, tea store you nice the familiar Prius. You turn off your car and get out walking into the place. 

"Y/n good morning." Pricilla the tender says "hi" you say "i heard what happened at school you alright?" She asks 

"Yeah i wasn't shot so I'm good" you say taking your wallet out.

"No I mean..you...they told me there were gunshots. Your mom and sister.." she says 

You resort back to your dream when you've witnessed your sisters murder.

"I'm fine." You say harshly. She takes the hint and nods.

"a Carmel macchiato hot please." You say in semi annoyance. She nods putting in your order.

"Anything else?" Pricilla asks 

"Yeah and a vanilla coffee please extra sugar." His voice says over your shoulder you look up seeing Spencer a red plaid scarf wrapped around his neck with a brown coat zipped up and grey jeans along with red converse. He taps his card on the screen and pays. 

"No spencer you didn't have to-" 

He shakes his head no and gives you a smile. 

"Thanks." You say and walk over to the other side of the counter to wait for your drinks 

"You alright?" He asks 

"Y-yeah im sorry for snapping at you yesterday." You apologize

"It's fine really i know some of the stuff i work in dosnt make others very uncomfortable." He says As a flash of memory of your mothers eyes hit you. You shake it of and nod to him. 

"It's not that." You say he frowns as the other tender places down the drinks. You take yours he takes his. "Thank you for the drink i have to go." You say And hurry off outside. You start up your car with your key. But before you get in your stopped by Spencer's voice. 

"Y/n?" He says you turn facing him. 

"You-um i- me and i just.. i wanted to ask um..if. Well with work and all i just.." 

"Spencer i really have to go." You say just wanting to go back home.

He nods "sorry. Ill see You Monday." He says. Watching as you get into your car and drive off.

CHAPTER 3

#spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #minds #crominmal

[madphantom]

Also here's a new snippet for Sarah let's fucking gooo

The sun has come out once more and with it brighter days. Sarah's ankle has healed and the days are hazy and warmgolden. We spend our afternoons lying in the light, kissing, forgetting all about the rest of the world. The nights are quiet, and for now it seems that the fox has scared the deer off. It is just us.

Well, and the storyteller. Somehow, they have become a part of this house just as much as the furniture or the hay in the barn. We do not want them to leave and it seems like, for the moment, they are content staying.

The deer is not fully gone, though. Of course. When I walk down to the lake in the mornings I see it stalking through the distant trees sometimes, a pale white dot in the fog, and a shiver runs down my spine. It looks like an angel and that both frightens me and draws me in. Sometimes it seems to draw closer, but flinch away again. There are red marks on its leg now, reminders of the fierce anger the fox carried inside its pointy teeth, almost a protective spell. What a peculiar feeling.

This morning we were back in the field when suddenly, Sarah saw a large grey feather poking out of the flowers. She stepped closer, wanting to pick it up, and I followed, but to my quiet horror there were more…

A dead crane was lying in the bed of wildflowers, its beak slightly agape, eyes mercifully closed, the wings spread out like wide open arms. Dew droplets shimmered on its feathers like pearls. It seemed to have simply dropped from the sky.

Sarah bit her lip.

"Oh, poor thing," she whispered. "Look, it was a beauty. So elegant."

"What a shame," I mumbled.

Sarah turned her head. "Do you think we should bury it?"

"Perhaps." I hesitated when I saw the hurt look in her eyes. She had always hated seeing animals come to harm.

"I'll go get the spades if you want me to," I said quietly.

She nodded. "Yes. Yes…that would be nice."

We buried the crane in mostly silence. At some point Sarah began to hum a bit, a sweet soft melody which echoed through the golden air. Rolling it over into the grave pushed my heart inbetween my ribs, but I kept myself contained.

The afternoon was quiet and menacing following this. The heat flickered in the concentrated air like dancing ghosts. Sarah was in the backyard, tending to the vegetables she was growing. I did not feel well somehow, and retreated to the cooler kitchen, where I tried my best to sleep. Despite the fact that my eyelids were heavy as lead, I remained feverishly restless, caught in the limbo of a tiring half sleep. Eventually, I heard a strange sound and opened my eyes.

The storyteller sat by the kitchen window, blindly gazing outside. They seemed to be listening to something intently.

"What was that sound?", I inquired.

They shrugged their shoulders, not bothering to turn their head. "A crane's call. It must be very near to the house."

I shuddered and sat up. "Oh, Lord. Sarah and I buried a dead crane down in the field this morning. I do hope it hasn't returned to haunt us."

The storyteller smiled, teeth pointy. "Wouldn't that make a lovely story?"

"Of course it would, I just have to say, I am not particularly fond of the idea of being the protagonist in a ghost story," I admitted.

Another call echoed across the valley. It sounded almost haunting. The storyteller tilted their head and slightly furrowed their brows.

"That did sound very close," I agreed, getting up from the bench. My back hurt. "Let me have a look."

The storyteller elegantly slid to the side and I glanced out of the window. The sky had turned violet in the evening sun and it stood above the black fir trees like a blood red ring of fire. A crane stood on the roof of the barn, cleaning its dirt-stained plumage. I shuddered.

"Do you see anything?", the storyteller asked.

"It's on the barn roof…" I chuckled anxiously. "How funny, it looks just like the one we buried."

"Cranes do tend to look similar."

"No, I mean…it doesn't look alive. It's full of dirt and its feathers are falling out and it's viciously pecking at itself. It looks like it should never have come here in the first place."

The storyteller tilted their head, but said nothing. They probably thought I was losing my mind.

When my gaze wandered to the fir trees I saw the two-headed white deer among them staring back.

#personal post #sarah the novel

[georgemackayhey]

Hello! I love your content! Could you do some Bo Cash stuff? Preferably the fluffy, romantic stuff?

Bo Cash content incoming ..... I've always kind of had this blurb in the back of my mind so thank you for giving me a reason to bring it to life! Keeping it short bc I'm pressed for time but if yall want follow up to this blurb pls let me know!

___

You'd saw him stretching toward the afternoon sun, contorting his figure into poses by the pool side. He was lean and fit and striking, too beautiful to be in a rundown place like this. Too beautiful to be in your presence, you thought.

"Bo! I stole dinner!" I voice little and far off called, and the man you'd been admiring turned at the sound of what must have been his name. You peered on as the man stretched to stand and shuffled out of your sight.

Sipping your tea, you pretended to occupy your time with the laundry on the line, and counted down the days until you were meant to leave here. You'd applied to university and had just received an acceptance letter in the mail a day ago. One piece of paper changed the direction of your life, yet your day went on the same as so many before it.

No matter why you'd wound up occupying the little camper van on the dullest side of the city, your days there finally became numbered, and nothing thrilled you more to know.

///

Bo cursed Rell, he'd only just gotten started stretching his limbs that day. And he'd barely gotten a good glimpse of you, the only reason he started yoga by the pool was so that he might have seen you out, that day. But Bo's stomach grumbled, so he turned toward dinner and hoped he could find a way close toward you by next sunset.

///

You sat out by the pool after a long night of planning your future. Planning what to pack and who to tell and how to make enough money to get you to where you planned on going. There was a book in your lap and a drink in your hand and a quiet in the night. The pool was far enough away from most campsites that it felt like a retreat, and close enough to yours that it wasn't a trek to get to. So the quiet was expected. Aside from the croaking of tree frogs in the distance, and a few cars rumbling down the far off freeway... nothing. So when the sound of the pool gate clattered, you turned in surprise.

Your jaw slacked ever so slightly when you saw him. Bo, the man you'd been staring at from across the campsite for a day or two now. He was finally right where you'd hoped you'd find him, alone with you.

///

Bo wasn't thinking when he stormed off, only trying to find space to clear his head. His frustrations and fears fogged his thoughts as he stomped toward the usually empty poolside. And when he looked up and saw you there, every worry and wonder faded from his head. All he saw was you. Finally.

///

"I'm sorry to interrupt I-" He stood awkwardly by the pool gate, assessing the way you sat. You snapped the book in your lap shut, and sat up perhaps too eagerly.

"You don't have to leave." You noted quickly, watching no change in the man's stance or uncertain expression. "It would be nice to have some company, for once." You boldly declare, letting a blush get the better of you all the while.

"Okay." He seemed to decide after a moment's consideration. You watch the man you'd been admiring move toward you, a caution in his step, an intensity in his gaze. His eyes fell too your lap and he asked what you were reading.

"Oh just some biography about a pianist. Glenn Go-"

"Glenn Gould?"

"Yeah, actually."

The man gleamed, seemingly enchanted. "I love him." He admitted. You sat there grinning just as wide, trying to comprehend just how divine this interaction felt. Like life had been leading up to this moment. Like life had been leading up to meeting...

"What is your name?" You wondered. Because you thought you knew it but didn't want to seem like some sort of creep that had been watching him from across the park for a handful of days...

"Bo. Yours?"

And after you'd told Bo what to call you, the floodgates slammed open and were torn off their imaginary hinges. The two of you didn't stop conversing for what felt like hours and hours on end. You were impressed by his vast knowledge, the shreds of it he shared in just this short time alone. You were taken aback by his honesty, listening with respectful intensity when he told you the exact events that led him and his family here tonight. You spoke assuredly when he asked you questions, because you could tell he was really listening to your answers.

There was a desperation to your interaction. Like you had only this one night to get to know Bo, and one chance to make an impression on him. But conversation flowed so easily, and the man sat so relaxed in the chair beside yours that time seemed to stall, and the air felt easier to breath all the while.

Then you asked Bo exactly why he'd come to the pool to escape at this odd hour of the night.

And he told you he'd gotten accepted into university, and had a big fight with his father about the ordeal. And then you asked him which university. And Bo revealed he'd been accepted to the same place you had been.

"I don't know what I'll do. How I'll get there. Or if I'll even be a realistically good fit. I just don't know..."

"Well one fact is for certain," You smiled at him. "If you wind up there, you'll have a friend waiting."

When you told Bo you had been accepted into the same school, he locked his stunning crystal eyes on yours and let his smiled grow wide as you'd seen it yet.

"Divine intervention. It must be." His words were softly spoken, and caused your body to buzz with excited wonder.

"If you need a way there, I leave in three days."

"I-I couldn't pay you. I wouldn't be any help at all." Bo sighed. He spoke a bit more about how frustrated he'd become with his parents for failing to prepare him for the real world. For how lost and hopeless he believed himself to be, despite quickly proving himself to be one of the more remarkable being you'd ever encountered.

"Come with me. Three days from now it won't matter what we do or don't know. It'll be a fresh start. Wanna?"

"But I-"

"Bo, yes or no. That's all you need to say." You smiled, leaning in closer toward his chair as he shifted there. The man you'd been shortly but intensely fascinated with started to nod, like he was winding up to answer for real.

"Yes. I'll go with you." Bo smiled and it was grin so stunning, it could've knocked you dead.

"I could use the company." You called back, making the both of you chuckle.

"Me too." Bo said. You soon gathered your drink and book, and let Bo promise he'd meet you poolside in three days' time. This new start just became all the more exciting.

#bo cash #bodevan cash #george mackay #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic #bo cash fanfic

[sunsetcorvid]

Violet-colored eyes slowly blinked open to rays of sunlight filtering through the window above the bed. While it was a little blurry, Three could tell this wasn’t their room. Nor their house. (Nor did they live anywhere in particular but that wasn’t the point.) They lay on their side. The weighted blanket on top of them was ruffled, tangled in their limbs. A pillow lay halfway across their face, and another was captured in their arms. They must have been quite active during the night, which was unusual for them. Usually, they were considered a “Dead sleeper.” Which just meant they hardly moved when they slept. Didn’t mean they were a heavy sleeper, though. They were sure they must have woken up multiple times throughout the night to some strange sound or feeling.

Speaking of which, their throat felt like it was on fire. Swallowing felt like a difficult task, it felt like they were swallowing rocks. Their limbs felt heavy and they weren’t sure they could move. Maybe this is what they got for all those nights staying up late and sleeping in that uncomfortable area in Octo Valley.

And also cowering in the rain, apparently, as they suddenly remembered where they were and what happened. The unfamiliar room suddenly made much more sense now.

They were in the Squid Sisters’ house.

As if to confirm this realization, a knock sounded at the bedroom door. When Three didn’t answer, the doorknob turned and a familiar Cuttlefish poked her head into the room.

“Three? Oh! You’re awake!” Callie said excitedly as she fully stepped into the room. She’d tied her tentacles up differently since the night before. Instead of the usual bow made with them, she’d tied them back, creating a ponytail. Smart, she wouldn’t be bothered by them while she slept. Three found themself wishing their tentacles were long enough to do that. They’d been forced to get them cut before getting kicked out to be independent in Inkopolis. Well, at least they had control over it now, so they’d be able to grow them out without any comment from their parents or siblings. They had control over pretty much everything in their life now. Though at the cost of just about everything, they supposed.

“Are you feeling okay, Three?” Callie’s voice was laced with concern as she made her way over to the bed that the younger inkling lay on. “You look more shit than usual. I mean, like, your tentacles are dull.” A bit of humor was found in her statement. Three snorted at this. She probably wasn't wrong, though. They felt like shit, so they were sure they looked like shit.

A cool hand placed itself on their head, which they didn't realize was so warm; Uncomfortably so. The coolness of the touch felt… surprisingly nice. Maybe it was because their brain was still fogged with sleep, maybe they just didn't mind in the moment, but they let the hand stay there and wished it wouldn't move. They didn't like being touched, not often anyways. Were they not feeling like they just crawled out of Hell, they probably would have bitten the hand. Okay, not bitten and maybe just swatted away, but still. And much to their surprise once more, their eyes slipped closed at the nice feeling. But all too soon, the hand retreated from its place.

“You're sick, aren’t you?” the older inkling spoke with a deadpan, yet slightly worried face. All Three could give in response was a snort. “Feels like your head is on fire. I was honestly expecting this, Gods know how long you were out there in the rain.”

It had been thirty minutes, at least. They weren't sure how they’d gotten sick within that period of time, but then considered their self-care habits and decided it made enough sense. All they’d wanted to do was check and see if Callie had been right about the storm, but they ended up getting caught in it themself. The first little bit of thunder had them cowering, hands over their ears. It shouldn't have felt as loud as it was, it shouldn't have made them think of the explosion that splat bomb had made that gave them the nasty scar on their side. But alas, they had found themself sitting in the rain close to getting splatted.

Three groaned as a wave of pain passed through their head. God, they really felt like shit. Their grip on the pillow in their arms grew tighter and they closed their eyes. Maybe if they forced themself to sleep, the pain would go away. The sound of the bedroom door being closed caused them to open their eyes in confusion. Callie had left the room.

Great, she was probably going to tell Marie that they were sick and to stay away from the room. They never liked being sick; no one did, really. When they were sick, they were left alone in their room until they were better. Everyone in their family did it when someone was sick. Quarantine the sick one so no one else gets sick. The only time they could come out of their room was late in the night, when everyone else was asleep in their respective rooms. They’d grab anything leftover from dinner and a water bottle and sneak back to their room. They never questioned this. It made sense, to them at least. Plus, fighting off the sickness by yourself toughened you.

But while it was safer, it was also lonely. Sitting alone in a room with just your thoughts. Especially those that intruded into Three's personal brain space from time to time. They liked to think that they were fine alone, that they’d always been able to get through being sick, even if it meant being curled up in their room for a good few days. Which is why they found themself confused at being sad that Callie had left the room. They shouldn't care that much, they barely knew the idol. But… she’d been so nice to them since she'd met them. It confused them, even more, when they started thinking about that. Why was she being so nice to them? She didn't need to, she had other things to worry about. Three should be the least of her concerns. Yet, there she was not even five minutes ago checking the young agent’s temperature. And there she was the night before, looking for Three in the storm. And when they first visited the Cuttlefishs’ house, when they’d been wounded enough to have to be dragged back there, Callie didn't even know their name. They didn't really know their own name if they were being honest, but that's beside the point. Callie, and Marie, had taken care of them to the best of their ability. The two didn't have to, but they did anyway. Three didn't know how to feel about this. It was strange.

The door opening once more dragged them from their thoughts.

“Okay, I got some water and some food for you. I made extra for breakfast because I thought you might be hungry when you woke up. My turn to cook this week so here's some rice and eggs! Sorry if you don't like either, don't know your food preferences yet.” Callie explained as she placed a glass of water and a tray with a plate of food on the nightstand next to the bed.

For the first time since Three had awoken, they sat up from their uncomfortable position in the bed. Unfortunately, the sudden movement only seemed to make their migraine worse. With a wince, they gripped their head with one hand and reached for the glass of water with the other. A reassuring hand rubbed their back as they took a sip. That felt nice. Weird, but nice. They hadn't realized how thirsty they were until they’d taken the first sip and the water was gone within seconds. Ah, that certainly helped their throat somewhat. Callie laughed from her spot next to them. When had she sat on the bed with Three?

“Pretty thirsty I take it?” All she got in response was a side-eye from the tired agent, but she got the message quite clearly.

The water seemed to help with their headache a bit as well, which didn’t surprise them. They had a habit of forgetting to drink water often, which lead to quite a bit of headaches. Nothing they couldn’t handle. Although, this felt like someone had placed a splat bomb in their head and modified it to blow up every few seconds. They couldn’t remember the last time they felt this sick. That’s what they got for being a dumbass, they supposed.

As they grabbed the tray from the nightstand to taste the food Callie had made them, they went over their plans for the day in their head. They couldn’t stay here all day. Callie had done more than enough for them the past day, they didn’t need to bother her or Marie anymore than they already were. They’d eat the food, rest a little more, then head back to the valley. They had kettles to patrol, an important duty they bestowed upon themself that took priority over recovering from sickness. Were there not as many Octarians in those areas since they’d defeated their ruler? Yes, but that didn’t mean they should slack off on keeping the city safe. The Zapfish could be stolen again for all they knew. They had to be prepared for that. Not only did patrolling help keep the city safe, but also helped with their skills. Perhaps they should visit Ammo Knights later to try a new weapon. All they’d been using this whole time was their Hero Shot. Maybe a roller?

Three’s thoughts were cut short as took a bite of the eggs and rice. Oh, that was good. They couldn’t remember the last time they’d had rice with eggs on top; most certainly before they’d started living on their own. Perhaps that was why they found it so good, enough so that they choked on a bite from how fast they’d been eating it. Coughing wracked Three’s body as they attempted to get the piece of food dislodged from their throat. That same hand from a few minutes ago hit their back in an attempt to help. Oh, shit, Callie was still here? Well, that’s embarrassing.

“Geez, slow down! I know I’m pretty good at cooking, but I’m not that good.” The older inkling joked as Three finally stopped choking on the rice. No, this squid was wrong. The food was fucking delicious, she should not be undermining herself like this.

Then again, Three couldn’t remember the last time they’d eaten.

With the coughing fit over and the food mostly consumed, Callie took the glass and tray and exited the room with a quick “I’ll be right back!”, leaving Three once more alone with their thoughts and sickness.

What were they planning before they started choking? Oh, right, new weapons. Did they have enough money for a new weapon? They’re sure they have some saved up from Turf Wars. Maybe not a lot, but enough to get something nice. Plus, they could probably get Sheldon to get them a discount since they were an agent and all. They’d learned not too long ago that he was the guy who supplied the weapons for the Splatoon. He seemed nice enough, albeit quite chatty.

A familiar object in the room caught Three’s eyes. Was that one of those mini zapfish plushies next to the dresser? They squinted their eyes to try and see better. Yeah, that was the zapfish plush alright. They remembered the first time they grabbed it after repeating a mission. They assumed the Octarians had placed them there in place of the real one so they could have some form of zapfish. But seeing the one in this room now made them think otherwise. Were Callie and Marie the ones putting the fake zapfish there? Or perhaps the captain? Urgh, their brain was too fogged to think about it. All they seemed to focus on now was how soft the zapfish looked. The fabric carefully hand-sewn together. A little captain’s hat sat on top. They always thought that little detail was nice. Maybe they could?

With a groan, Three stood from the rather comfortable bed to make their way to the plush. Unfortunately, they lost their balance hardly halfway there and fell to the ground with an audible thud. Thankfully, the agent’s head didn’t come into contact with the nightstand or the dresser. At least they wouldn’t have a worse migraine. However, they were now stuck on the carpeted floor, the energy sapped out of them. The zapfish plush lay just a few feet away from Three, within arm’s reach. Yes! They could grab it!

Shaking hands wrapped around the fish’s plush body and brought it close to the inkling’s chest. It was as soft as they had thought, maybe even softer. A content sigh left their lips. Screw the bed, they’d rather lay on the floor with this fish instead. They will name it… Sparky. Was that basic? Yes. But you can’t blame them, they were sick and terrible at naming things.

“Hey, I got you more water and some medicine for your sick. It tastes terrible, but it’ll help- Oh my gods, Agent 3, what the hell happened?!” Callie exclaimed at the sight of the younger inkling curled up on the floor. “I left for, like, two minutes!”

Three raised the zapfish up slightly, showing off their prize.

“Oh, you were trying to get the zapfish. You could have just waited for me to come back so I could grab it for you, you know.” Didn’t matter now. They had the plush and that was that. Also, they didn’t need to get someone to do something for them when they were perfectly capable themself. Even if capable meant laying curled up on the floor with a plush in their arms. A sigh sounded from above.

“Alright, come on, up you go.” A surprisingly strong pair of arms wrapped underneath Three’s and picked them up, very similar to how Callie would hold Judd sometimes. Then, the young agent was, gently, tossed back onto the bed with terrifying ease. They knew they didn’t weigh much, but they couldn’t weigh that little. Could they?

Callie raised an eyebrow at their startled expression. Three pointed to her arms, which now that they focused, looked like they had quite a bit of muscle on them.

“What, do you think I’m strong?” she laughed as she looked at her arms. Three didn’t respond. “Well, you're technically not wrong. I do main the roller, which puts a bit of muscle on you if you use it enough.” Oh, that explained it. Maybe they should try out a roller. Gods know they could use some muscle.

As if reading their mind, Callie spoke again. “I could show you the basics of wielding a roller sometime if you'd like. I’d say I’m pretty good at it.” Well, Three would have to see about that.

“Anyways, as I was saying before. I got you some more water and some medicine. Marie said it’ll help with your throat, too.” The liquid, which appeared to be the medicine, did not look very appetizing. Then again, medicine wasn't supposed to be appealing, so there wasn't any reason to complain about that. Either way, there was no way in Hell they were drinking that. Would it make them better? Yes, maybe. But also the idea of drinking it made them want to throw up. And the sisters shouldn't be wasting their medicine on them when they would probably get better in a couple of days anyway.

In defiance to both the medicine and the water, Three turned their back to Callie on the bed, holding Sparky tighter. Maybe they should think of a better name for the fish…

Internally, Three scolded themself for being so childish about the situation. It didn't particularly help that they were holding onto a stuffed zapfish like their life depended on it. But despite their thoughts, they couldn't find the energy to really care. The fever was really getting to them. Maybe the medicine was a good idea. Oh well, too late. They already turned their back to it and made up their mind that they didn't need it.

Callie sighed behind them. “C’mon, Three. I don't want to send you back to your parents half-dead.” she joked. “... Speaking of which, do they know where you are?” They flinched… shit.

What were they supposed to tell her? That they'd been kicked out of the house because they’d been deemed independent enough to live on their own? That their parents probably had no idea where they were and didn't care? That they'd been living in Octo Valley for the past few months because they weren't old enough to own an apartment? (Though, Three had heard that the laws were planning to be changed so that the minimum was 14. They didn't think it was a very good idea, but it would certainly benefit them if it happened.)

They supposed they could lie like they had been since they’d given her their phone number. Alright Three, come on, think of something!

Oh, wait. How were they supposed to tell her? They couldn't really speak when they were like this. Then they slapped themself mentally as they remembered the phone in their pocket. They'd forgotten to take it out before passing out the night before.

After a bit of shuffling, Three managed to pull the device out their pocket. They squinted their eyes as the screen turned on, brightness almost all the way up. Why the hell had they turned it up that high? Whatever, they checked the time.

1:36 PM…

That was much later than they had originally thought. That also threw off their original plans of getting out of bed before noon to patrol the Valley and train. They decided then and there that the universe despised them. Also, weren’t the Sisters supposed to be at work right now? They didn’t know their whole schedule, but they were sure that they started work at a much earlier time…

With an internal sigh, Three opened up their messaging app and tapped on Callie’s contact. A couple of minutes later, a notification sound was heard and Callie fished her own phone out of her pocket and read the message sent by Three.

(Three) 1:40 PM

as far as they know, im staying at a friends house for the weekend. i texted them in the valley

(Three) 1:41 PM

what am i supposed to tell them

(Three) 1:41 PM

“oh yeah im staying at a famous idols house because im sick again lol love ya xoxo”

(Three) 1:42 PM

theyd probably call the cops thinking im doing drugs

Three thanked the gods that it was Saturday so it would seem more believable. They felt impressed with themself for thinking of such a great lie while their mind felt so fogged with fever. But turning around now to look at Callie, their confidence faltered. The look on the idol’s face was a mix between concern and suspicion. But it softened a few moments later and the older inkling spoke again.

“Do you get sick often? You said “again” in this. Sounds like it happens a bit.” The notification sound rang out again.

(Three) 1:44 PM

immune system is shit

“Well, that explains why you’re so sick now.”

(Three) 1:45 PM

im not that sick

“Three, you can barely get out of bed. You’re pretty sick.” You know what? They were going to prove her wrong! They will laugh in her face when they get up and can walk completely fine.

“What the hell are you-”

Not even two minutes later, the (Not-so) famous Agent 3 was laying face down on the floor. They swore at their body for giving up so easily, but then finally gave in and accepted the fact that they were sick and wouldn’t be getting anywhere for a day or two. Being stubborn about this wouldn’t get them anywhere and would most likely make them worse. Taking in a breath, Three turned their body over so that they were laying on their back. Callie’s head popped up from over the bed, an unimpressed look plastered on her face.

“You are one stubborn squid, you know that?” Yeah, they knew well enough.

A hand was offered to them and a few minutes later they were back on the bed, zapfish in their hands. They briefly considered taking it back to their spot in the Valley, but the thought was pushed out. The fish didn’t belong to them and they damn well wouldn’t steal from the Squid Sisters. The ones literally taking care of them, for what reason they still couldn’t fathom.

But then Callie spoke again as if reading their thoughts.

“If you like the zapfish so much, you can keep it. We have a ton, anyways.” What.

They could keep it…

Their grip on Sparky grew tighter in response to this. These squids were too nice to them, honestly.

“So, are you gonna take this medicine or am I gonna have to shove it down your throat?” Nevermind.

“Three.” Fuck you.

“I swear, Three, this is all I need you to do and then you’re free to rest unbothered. Just a cup of this and then you’re done.” Three stared for what felt like forever, then slowly nodded their head. Just to get this shit over with.

A few seconds later, a small cup with a purple-reddish liquid was placed into their hands. It smelled terrible and it looked terrible, but Three took a deep breath and drank it all in one swig… And then immediately gagged because that tasted like shit. Laughter erupted in front of them and the small cup in their hands was replaced with a glass of water. God, hell, they need to get this taste out of their mouth. The water seemed to absorb the taste and spread it out slightly in their mouth, but after a few sips the flavor seemed to die down and they didn’t feel like throwing up from it.

The glass was placed on the nightstand and the inkling turned their back to the idol. As they did so, they laid their head back on the pillow and a wave of exhaustion hit them at almost full force. Shit, the sick was getting them. A hand rubbed their back.

“See? Not that bad. The Great Agent 3, the agent who defeated DJ Octavio himself, was able to take medicine! Hopefully, it should help you a bit.”

The bed shifted as Callie stood up and grabbed the bottle of medicine from the nightstand. The air felt peaceful, calm, as Three began drifting in and out of sleep. They seemed to merge with the bed, their body growing heavier with each passing second. Then, as the clock from the bedroom door being closed was heard, sleep finally pulled them in.

“I’m worried about Three…”

“Well, they’re sick, I’m not entirely surprised by that statement.”

Callie paced about in the shared living room. She had just come back from convincing Three to take some medicine and had been moving about the room ever since. It was a habit she had, whenever she was worried or nervous. It was the former in this case. Marie closed the book she was reading and turned her head to look at her sister.

“There’s more to it, isn’t there?” The green squid eyed Callie’s pacing, which was becoming much more vigorous.

“Their parents… It doesn’t make sense!” she threw her hands up but never stopped her pacing. “Three said they told them that they were staying at a friend’s house for the weekend but it- it didn’t sound right… Why would they let their kid stay out that late at night anyways? Especially in the rain! And another thing! Have you noticed that they’ve been spending pretty much all their time in the Valley?” Callie stopped pacing to look at Marie.

“Well, when you mention it, yeah. What about it?”

“Shouldn’t they be going to school? The districts around here are super on top of making sure a kid is there. The parents are almost immediately notified if someone doesn’t show up. You’d think their parents would do something about that, but they seem unbothered. Enough so that they’re just okay with Three spending a weekend at a friend’s house! Either they’ve been skipping this whole time and their parents don’t care, or there’s something else here. With how often they’re getting beat up in the Valley, I’m going with the latter.”

Everything was silent as Callie finished her rant. The book Marie had been holding prior dropped to her side and she covered her mouth with her hand in thought.

“That… is quite alarming.” She finally spoke after a few minutes.

“Right?! And Three gets all nervous when I ask! They literally flinched when I brought it up!”

The two stared at each other as a plan formulated in their heads. They’d always been able to think of the same things when the times called.

Terrifyingly, at the same time, they both spoke.

“We need to talk to Three about this.”

#THE WHOLE FIC???? #i dont know how to respond to this what does this mean #what does it mean when someone sends you your entire fic word for word #miles answers

[agoddamn]

Finally got into the Engage groove. Sat down and went from 10 to 15.

Something about MC's "I can't do this without you!" at the Emblems is really funny. Big waifufag energy.

Again, another point where I wish the Emblems were original characters. You could actually do something interesting with Alear having some kinda mildly codependent relationship with the Emblems in spite of them not being truly alive if they weren't cool iconic FE characters that need to be objectively good and admirable at all times.

Heck, you could address the unsettling idea of the Emblems not being truly alive in the first place! They identify themselves as Emblem Name, which means even they see themselves as a derivative. Are they trapped in a hell of undeath, watching everyone around them age and die? Do they still feel the human need for interaction? They get used as weapons against their consent-- isn't that an awful existence? Why would they want to become an Emblem in the first place? They're like the cookies from Black Mirror...nightmarish.

Interesting characterization glimmer from Alcryst. His boss convo with his dad has him saying that he wants to be the one to kill dad in order to spare Diamant having to do it. Damn, son

The sad piano music on the retreat chapter is nice.

I don't get why localization did that with the shitenno names...they're supposed to be colors. Mauvier and Griss are recognizably colors, but the girls are weird. Zephia = Sepia, Marni = Maroon (or maybe Marron, the French version).

Fogado feels like the character the fandom wanted Claude to be lmao

Also not sure why they renamed his sister? She's Misteria in Japanese, the siblings are fog and mist, that's the joke.

...dragon badguy kinda sexy. Forehead clit is a turnoff though

I like how Hortensia wigs out thinking Ivy is dead and everyone just chooses not to correct her

Kingdom 1's name theme is French, 2 is rocks, 3 is flowers, and 4 is...not sure, actually. Jp had the fog/mist thing, but English...

MERRIN IS MY WIFE

Oh, the gay bandits again. Wait...do they both call one another little brother in their death lines??

Solm palace is very pretty. Easily the nicest-looking castle interior

RIP to whatever localizer got handed Fogado's fratboy retainer lmao there are plenty of things I'll drag the localization on, but the party peep lingo is so bizarre to translate. I won't even touch it. They did their best with that shit

Kagetsu has gotten str level after str level. He's terrifying. Complete animal.

Kagetsu and Zelkov feel like weird AU cousins of Odin and Zero...Koyasu voicing Kagetsu only hammers this vibe home even harder

Starting to suffer on supports. As of chapter 15, MC doesn't have one B support. They took away support-building on the enemy phase and two-space supporting, which makes it a massive pain in the ass to get support points. I've been doing arena and cafe after every battle, too! Squeezing as many support points as possible outta this, but it still ain't much

Reclassing ends up being kind of an odd beast thanks to how Emblem-dependant it is. Losing your initial batch of Emblems takes away your ability to spread weapon proficiencies around, which hobbles your ability to reclass for several chapters. Compounding that, it's a good while before you can buy Second Seals, and money is very tight. If you have a unit who starts off in a class not suited to their growths (Jean, Clanne) they're kinda just fucked. What's the point of designing a system with so much flexibility only to take away your ability to use it for most of the game? I would have preferred the system be more stripped-down and actually usable.

Goddamn, do I feel the money crunch. Buying gifts? In THIS economy?

#boots plays fe17

[bookwormscififan]

I Can Promise You That

Read on AO3!

Concept art

A/N: Take some Mare protecting an angry Mad before kissing him senseless. Idea from a conversation with @iamvegorott about Mare not being able to control himself around an angry Mad.

Warnings: It gets a little heated at the end, but not too much.

--

Mare walked down the street with a smile, Mad’s arm wrapped around his own as they headed home after a dinner out. Mare held Mad’s hand on his arm, feeling the wool of his knitted jumper covering his fingers, and he let out a soft chuckle as he remembered Mad insisting on the jumper because of the nighttime cold.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Mad asked, voice soft as he turned brown eyes to look at Mare questioningly. Mare patted Mad’s hand, slowing their pace so he could look into Mad’s eyes.

“I was just thinking about you insisting on this ridiculous jumper,” he laughed, poking the small line that formed between Mad’s furrowed brows. “You look adorable in it, but you could have just worn a jacket. What about the burgundy one you love so much?”

“It wouldn’t have been warm enough,” Mad answered, rubbing his forehead where Mare had poked it. “And Anti made this jumper for me. I like it, and it’s cosy.” Before Mad could say anything more, a group of men approached them from the other side of the road, sneering and laughing at the couple.

“Hey, look, it’s the nerd and the musician!”

“Out for a date?”

“What’s with the jumper? Why’s it so big?”

Mare could see Mad fighting back some biting remarks, hands clenching by his sides, and he cracked his neck before stepping in front of Mad, holding an arm out to keep him back.

“I would suggest you stop talking and walk away,” Mare said lowly, almost growling at the men. “I would appreciate it if you left us alone.” Stretching his fingers, purple fog started to surround his arms, and Mare could feel an itch under his eyes.

“Woah, what are you gonna do? Sing us a song? Come on, man, we just want to have some fun.” One of the men moved forward, reaching out for Mad, and he was blown back by a lavender-scented blast.

“You won’t have any fun with us, I can promise that,” Mare growled, eyes glowing purple as he moved further in front of Mad, shielding him with his body. “Now, go.”

Mad watched the group retreat, holding Mare’s shirt in a loose grip as he waited for Mare’s powers to flow away, then he snaked his arms around Mare’s waist to hug him from behind, pressing his cheek against his shoulder blades.

“Are you alright?” Mare asked, voice soft again as he held Mad’s arms around his waist. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” Mad whispered, holding Mare tightly. “You’d never hurt me. You protected me.”

“Good,” Mare stated, and in a blink, Mad was pressed against their hallway wall by Mare’s hands on his hips. “Now I can tell you why I really didn’t want you going out in that jumper.” Slipping his hands under Mad’s jumper, Mare pushed him further against the wall and kissed him deeply, feeling the warm skin beneath the jumper growing warmer.

“Mare, you could have just told me you liked how I looked,” Mad mumbled against Mare’s lips, eyes fluttering closed as he draped his arms around Mare’s neck. “But it was nice to see you protecting me.”

“And I’ll never stop protecting you,” Mare replied, kissing Mad again before picking him up. “I can promise you that.” When Mad kissed him back, Mare carried him to their room, ready to finish their date night on a good note.

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

@brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons

#writing #fanfiction #nwtb fanfiction #madmare #i like the idea of Anti being able to knit #and he just knits the chunkiest jumpers for the others