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#so this should come as a surprise to nobody
starsofang · 2 days
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thinking about the holidays cutting close, and price has nobody to return home to to spend it with. johnny and simon are off on their own, and kyle’s returned home to visit his mother.
thinking he was going to spend it alone, he’s pleasantly surprised when you offer him a spot on your journey home to visit your own family.
“nobody should be alone for christmas, captain,” you say, and who was he to say no?
he joins you on the train home, thinking perhaps he was overstepping. this was your family, not his, and he’s intruding on a holiday meant to be spent with them. but of course, you continue to tell him you don’t mind, that they’ll love to have his company.
that’s how he ends up sat at the dinner table surrounded by your parents and siblings, listening in as they tell stories of you as a child. it was clear you were embarrassed, from the way you hid your face in your hands, but the sound of chiming laughter brought him joy for the first time in a long time.
and when you bring him dessert with a smile, placing it in front of him before taking a seat next to him, he easily found himself growing more content by the minute.
it was dangerous for him to feel so comfortable in a family that isn’t his, especially yours. after all, you were his comrade, one of his own that he could trust out on the field with his life.
but when the feast ended and everybody stalks off to their respective beds to rest until christmas morning came, he laid awake with his gaze to the ceiling, succumbing to the realization that he enjoys this.
enjoys it in a way where he silently wishes that it was the two of you hosting christmas dinners as a family, one of your own.
his gift seemed to have come a day early, and it was realizing he was in love with you. all he needed was a christmas miracle for you to feel the same.
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made the mistake of listening to all i want for christmas is you, so now we’re in a christmas mood ???? anyways, mindless ramble as always before i go to bed, don’t take this seriously <3
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sunflower-lilac42 · 9 hours
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𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 | 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 ♔
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➪ summary: afer many milestones of her brothers, she finally comes home for the first hughesbowl
➪ warnings: none (surprises?)
➪ word count: 2.6k
➪ file type: fic + one insta post
➪ sunny's notes: i'm pretty sure this was the first hughes bros fic i wrote so i definitely had to go back and rewrite a bunch of it. for a little context you're a famous youtube vlogger :) also i would definitely reread this one because a lot has changed and i wrote like a thousand more words for this one
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⟹ Sunday, December 3, 2023 @ 3:30 in the morning - Naples, Italy
“Hello everyone, my name is y/n, and welcome to my channel if you are new here and welcome back if you’re not! It is currently,” She pauses to take a brief look at her watch, “3:30 in the morning on Sunday, December 3. I am very much still in Italy, but not for long.”
The video cuts and now her camera is sitting on her desk, the windows are opened and the lights are adjusted to be a little bit brighter. She smiles brightly at the camera before she starts talking again, “So you’re probably seeing this mid-December ish whcih means you kind of already know what is going on, but. I am officially flying and moving back home.
“Italy has been such a great experience and I’ve had so much fun here, I’ve learned a ton of new things and I am so grateful for everyone I’ve met. If you know, I’ve been here for almost three years now and I think I’m starting to realize how homesick I am. It’s super nice and amazing here but if I’m honest, I kind of miss ‘the land of the free’. That was a joke, the land of the free part, trust.”
She laughs and continues, “Anyway, the main reason I have decided to come home now is because of my brothers. If you also don’t know, I have three younger brothers, Quinn, Jack, and Luke who are professional hockey players. Quinn plays for the Vancouver Canucks and the other two play for the New Jersey Devils. I honestly have missed so much of their careers, Luke especially and I just really want to be there for the first ever ‘Hughesbowl’ I think they’re calling it.” 
She wipes her eyes, trying not to let the tears fall. She looks around at her room and then back at the camera, “So, I’m flying into New York this morning, my flight leaves at 7 so I should probably get going in a little bit. But yeah, I’ll see you guys when I touch down in New York!”
Videos play of y/n getting ready for the airport, all of her luggage behind her. She navigates her way through the airport, stopping to get some food at the Starbucks and a small drink before sitting and reading her book. After the montage, she is now in a car looking a little tired but her smile is still plastered on her face. 
❛ ━━・❪ ❁ ❫ ・━━ ❜
⟹ Sunday, December 3, 2023 @ 10:21 in the morning - New York City, New York
“So as you can see, I am now in New York!” The camera pans to a girl in the driver's seat, “This is my American homie right here. Oh, it’s so weird being back, everyone still can’t walk and drive to save their lives.
“Anyway, Julia and I are heading to drop my stuff off at her place and then we’re going to go get some brunch, I think? We’ll, or I guess, I will go sightseeing. I leave for Vancouver tomorrow night so I can rest up before the shorter flight. It’s honestly, kind of fun being back home, everything is kind of like how I remembered. I might also break into Jack and Luke’s apartment to steal some Devils merch so I can wear it to the game, but yeah.”
“Do the boys know you’re going?” Julia asks, pulling into the parking lot of her apartment complex.
Y/n shakes her head, “Nobody knows except for you and Tiffany, my friend who lives in Vancouver. So that will be an additional bonus to the game. I’ve set up some things with the arena and I guess, actually, some of the team know so Brock, Petey. I think Jesper and Nico know too, we were talking a little bit earlier together when I got here. Alright, I will see you guys sometime soon!”
Another quick montage plays, Julia and y/n are out and about, going from store to store while y/n gapes at all the things she remembered about visiting Jack before she left. At one point, there was a video of her successfully sneaking into her brother's apartment and stealing one of their beanies they kept on the countertop. 
The next video was of her collapsing onto a bed, “We’re home! It is now almost 10 o'clock here and I am going to get some much-needed rest. Tomorrow I think we’re going to meet up with a few more of our friends which I don’t think I’m going to vlog. Which means, I will see you all when I am headed to the airport!”
❛ ━━・❪ ❁ ❫ ・━━ ❜
⟹ Monday, December 4, 2023 @ 7:00 in the evening - John F Kennedy Airport
“It was already 5 and I am here at the airport,” Y/n pans the camera around before focusing it back on herself, “I am actually starting to get so nervous about this. I mean in a little over 24 hours I get to see my little brothers for the first time in almost 3 years. Wow, that is crazy to say. I ended up going out to an early dinner with some of my friends so I am definitely full for this plane ride. I am going to be landing in Vancouver around 10, basically, I’m going to be falling asleep when I get there.
“I also finished this book which will be in a different video but it was so good and I’m so glad I got to read it. I’m rambling too much, I will see you guys in Canada.”
Footage of the plane played, looking down at the ground below. In the middle of those clips, were videos of y/n either trying not to fall asleep and also her reading. Then, clips of her dragging her luggage through the airport and out the doors to find her friend's car. 
❛ ━━・❪ ❁ ❫ ・━━ ❜
⟹ Monday, December 4, 2023 @ 10:13 in the night - Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
“Oof! It is nearing my bedtime. Also, Tiffany just mentioned to me how weird it looks that I’m coming all the way from Italy with just a suitcase and carry-on. Don’t worry, I didn’t leave my stuff in Italy. I shipped most of my things here to Vancouver because I’m planning on living with Tif over here for a while until I can afford my place. And who knows, maybe Quinn will kidnap me and force me to come live with him.
“That is completely beside the point there. I have now been in three different countries and two different continents in basically 24 hours theoretically if we look at it from completely one time zone, Pacific. I’m going to cry actually, whether that is because of exhaustion or because I get to see my brothers in less than 20 hours, I don’t know. I will see you guys tomorrow, probably somewhere close to the time I leave for Rogers Arena. Tomorrow is the day.”
The video ends with her sighing with a smile on her face, both happy and nervous for the upcoming events to happen. She went to bed that night, comfortably in another bed instead of an airplane seat once more. Tomorrow was going to be a lot and she could only hope everything went to plan.
❛ ━━・❪ ❁ ❫ ・━━ ❜
⟹ Tuesday, December 5, 2023 @ 6:23 in the evening - Rogers Arena
“I am now standing outside of Rogers Arena on this very cold day in Vancouver. I am really wishing I brought another coat, somehow I still have not trained my body to be adaptive in the cold.” She rolls her eyes but smiles nonetheless, “We’re going to go meet with some of the people who are helping me pull this off and if everything works out you should be seeing the video Tiffany is taking from behind me mashed with another video my friend is taking from the stands.”
『••✎••』
Y/n stands nervously in the tunnel, playing with her fingers and picking at the skin around her nails. She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet as she listened to the skating come to a halt. It was like her eyes were trained to find her family no matter where she was or where they were. As soon as everyone stopped and got into their lines, she let out a deep breath when her eyes focused on Quinn standing alongside the others. 
His hair was longer, that was for sure. He looked older, more mature than the last time she had seen them. The last time she had actually talked to them was a few days prior, probably about a week ago. She had texted them a few times but other than that, she was too nervous she would accidentally slip up and tell them about her plan. 
Her eyes moved and they zeroed in on Jack who was conveniently also standing next to Luke. Her eyes widened a bit when she saw Luke, he was taller, much taller than she remembered. Jack almost looked the same in her opinion, the only thing different was his hairstyle but even then, he looked like the younger brother who used to pester her when she wouldn’t make his Mac ‘n Cheese the way he wanted her to. 
On the other hand, the boys were standing, looking at the ground while their feet shuffled back and forth to help keep them steady on the ice. Jack and Luke shoved each other once or twice playfully throughout the opening speeches. Quinn had a million thoughts racing through his head. This would be his first time playing against Luke on big league ice, his first time playing his brothers as captain of his team, the first time they would all be playing together in the NHL on the same ice and she wasn’t here. 
He would never hate or relent his older sister for wanting to go off and study in another country, it was an amazing opportunity. He was, however, upset about everything that she had missed of his. Luke’s draft, Luke’s debut, Luke’s first goal, the start of Luke’s rookie season, Jack’s record-breaking season, him being announced captain, his first game as captain. 
While Jack and Luke weren’t thinking about this, Quinn couldn’t help it. Y/n was his big sister, the person he had looked up to for his whole life, the person who took care of him when he took a big hit on the ice, the person who helped him through his first relationship, the person who made him soup when he was sick. She was practically everything to him. And it hurt that she wasn’t here. 
“This isn’t something we normally do, but we figured since it was a special occasion we would make an exception.”
Everyone in the arena had practically gone quiet at the words, no one knew anything extra was happening tonight. A lot of friends looked at each other in confusion, the teams eyed one another - some knowling and some just as confused as the fans -, y/n got even more nervous as the words she had drilled into her head were spoken out loud. 
“As everyone knows, this is an incredible thing happening tonight, three brothers playing against each other.” The said boys rolled their eyes once more but still had smiles on their faces, “We do know that there is one person missing however.”
Many fans of y/n who happened to be in the audience knew almost exactly what was happening at this moment. While she hadn’t hinted at coming back home, who else would they have been talking about? She was the only Hughes in question who wasn’t here. 
“As she told me when she got here, she couldn’t miss another big milestone for her brothers. So after being away in Italy for 3 years, please welcome famous YouTuber and older sister of Quinn, Jack, and Luke Hughes, y/n Hughes!”
Cheers erupted as she stepped out onto the ice and she waved a little to the fans before being almost knocked to the ground by a body tackling her. Luke’s arms wrapped around his sister tightly, his head resting on hers. She smiled softly and wrapped her arms around him as well, “Hi Lukey.”
His voice was soft, “Hi.”
“When’d you get so tall?”
“I’ve always been tall, you’re just short.” He pulled away, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked at her. His eyes slightly glistened with tears before he pulled her into another hug. He murmured something at first, causing y/n to have to ask him to repeat it, “I’m really really really really really happy you’re here. I don’t think I could’ve gone another six months without you.”
She frowned and squeezed him a little tired before he ultimately pulled away and let Jack scoop her into a hug as well. Compared to Luke’s, Jack’s hug was relatively short because he was now antsy. This would be the first time in years that he would be playing in front of her and he wanted to make her proud. So when he pulled away about a minute later she looked at him confused. He only smiled at her before speaking, “I got the zoomies now.”
She threw her head back as she laughed, shaking her head at him. Her eyes moved round once more to see Quinn standing a foot or two away from her. When she opened her arms, he all but dove into them like Luke had done earlier. He, however, shed a few tears as his head buried into the shoulder. She patted his back and suddenly she realized how many eyes were actually on them. So while she wanted to continue her reunion with the three of them, she whispered something into his ear and he pulled away nodding. 
She waved one more time at the fans as the applause and made her way to the stands where her parents were. Once she was even slightly near her parents, Ellen pulled her into a hug, asking her a bunch of questions about when and how she got there. 
『••✎••』
After the game, y/n stood with Jim and Ellen as they waited for the boys to be done. She was in the middle of catching them up on her trip here when someone came from behind and hugged her tightly, slightly lifting her up. She squealed and turned around to hit Jack on the arm, “Hey!”
“What?” He said innocently as he threw an arm around her shoulder, “Can I not hug my sister who I haven’t seen in three years?”
“Of course you can.” She wrapped her arms around his torso and side-hugged him, “You just can’t pick me up.”
He scoffed a little, “Someone’s picky.”
“Where’s Luke and Quinn?”
He shrugged, “I don’t know. I was too excited to see you.”
At that moment, Luke and Quinn made their appearance right behind Jack and hit him over the head. Y/n rolled her eyes before hugging each of them, Quinn’s being a little longer than Luke’s. They all stared at each other once they stopped hugging and then they looked at their parents. 
“Can we go get dinner?” Jack asked.
She rolled her eyes, “Only if you’re paying rich boy.”
He shrugged before walking ahead of them. Y/n looped her arms through Quinn and Luke’s, walking down the hallway out of the arena, “Ah my favorite boys.”
“I heard that!”
❛ ━━・❪ ❁ ❫ ・━━ ❜
𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 『 instagram 』
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64 notes · View notes
manias-wordcount · 2 days
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Hi I wanted to say I adore your blog and a lot of your content. I was wondering if I could please get headcanons of Joker, Akechi, Mello, Denki, Kirishima and Link receiving a bouquet of flowers from their partner as an act of affection and gratitude towards them and how they’d react. Men deserve receiving flowers too! I’d love to see their reactions! Thank you ❤️
Giving Him Flowers HCs (Akira Kurusu, Goro Akechi, Mello, Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima)
𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝘅 𝗶 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗲 𝗛𝗖. 𝗛𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝘆!
𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?
𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?
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Akira Kurusu
He’s so charmed by you LMAO
Like it’s so cute and he’s really happy !!!
The second you hand him the flowers he’s wrapping his arms around you all tight and giving you like a thousand forehead kisses
Probably just holds you a long time too as if you’re about to leave him for a while (because you were totally not just  about to go upstairs to take a nap in his room while you wait for him to finish covering for Sojiro)
Since moving to Tokyo, he’s been able to develop a lot of good relationships with others so he has plenty of good people in his life
But you showing up with flowers for him so randomly really just made his feel so fuzzy and warm inside
(Especially because he was having a particularly hard day but hadn’t told you about it yet)
Chances are, the flowers stay down in Leblanc because the attic is too dirty and dark
But he doesn’t shy away to from telling everyone who exactly gave him those flowers
Because for him, it’s not the flowers themselves that make him feel happy- it’s the fact that it’s a simple, beautiful, and meaningful gift coming from you <3
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Goro Akechi
He’s a little hesitant to accept at first
(He probably is with all forms of affection but that’s neither here nor there)
He admits he’s a bit surprised but pleased when you randomly bring him a bouquet and say you were thinking of him and wanted to surprise him
But he really didn’t think that flowers were something that men would get randomly from their S/o
But you know him all too well, so you’re able to ease him into the idea that he deserves gifts and surprises like random flowers because he’s a great boyfriend and everyone should receive flowers every now and then - even him
So he does end up accepting the flowers after getting just a tad bit emotional and raw with his feelings
Eventually, he ends up taking it to work with him after you suggested it might brighten up his office!
Of course, the flowers bring a lot of attention to him because ‘Whaaat?? What do you mean the teen detective is dating someone??? Since when??’
And of course, he has to start explaining bits and pieces of his relationship to his coworkers which he doesn’t love
But if he has to talk to these people about anything, he’s a bit glad it’s just bragging about you
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Mello
Maaannnn Mello is such a huge asshole - imo nobody should get this bitch flowers smh
But chances are, your gift of flowers is either 
A) immediately getting knocked out of your hands or B) immediately getting tossed in the trash (IN FRONT OF YOU)
He’s probably a little smug about seeing your little quiver and you grow upset about what happened but he doesn’t do anything more than that except laugh along with his lil crew
It takes finally being alone for a little bit to reflect on how what he did being fucked up to you
So by the next day, the flowers are gone from where they were originally left, and in his bedroom with plenty of water and tons of light and flower food bc he feels so bad
And chances are, you have a bunch of your favorite candy or treats being delivered to your door because no way is he gonna apologize in person (mans got a reputation to uphold)
So a guy like Mello  doesn’t deserve flowers, but he definitely doesn’t deserve you either
But he knows better than to make a similar mistake in the future
 You are the only one who always believed he was number one at everything - even when no one else did 
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Denki Kaminari
He’s probably weirded out at first because????
Because what guy gets flowers??? Girls get flowers lol, not tough guys like him 
But once you started telling him why you wanted to get him flowers and why you think it’s dumb that only girls get flowers because boys deserve to get pretty things and to feel special too he started smiling like a big idiot
You just seriously made him so so happy and feel so lucky that of all the people he tried his luck with, the one person he really wanted wanted him back lol
That said, giving him flowers (and no written instructions or reminders) was a bad idea lol
Probably because he doesn’t know what to do with them LMAO
Like totally forget to give them water until it’s almost too late
And then immediately almost overwaters them
But hey! He’s happy and he’s trying lol
And he’s always remember the fact that you did this for him <3
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Eijiro Kirishima
Takes it like a king LMAO
Though it probably helps that you got him a bouquet that was similar to one Crimson Riot was awarded at a banquet one time
And that you added a couple of flowers that all had “manly” meanings
So he feels sooooo honored- especially since these flowers were sprung on him on the blue
Probably accidentally gives you a poke with one of his spikes when he comes in for a hug LOL
Either way, this moment was a big form of reassurance
Not just as your boyfriend, but as a hero and a person
Of course, you gave him endless compliments when you presented him with the flowers
But it just felt like proof that he was really improving and coming so far compared to the person that he used to be!
And proof of how much you love and adore him of course!
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atsadi-shenanigans · 19 hours
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Feeding Alligators 63 - I'll Cry if I Want To
You get drunk. Guess who comes lurking?
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On AO3.
Getting shit-faced. That is what wine’s good for.
The night’s real pretty. Y’all are inside the grove, all the goblins’re fucking dead, and the druids ain’t gonna let…let fucking wargs or mean bears in here. So it’s safe. There’s a rock digging into your left ass cheek, and you cannot be fucked to do nothing about it. But you’re safe! So it’s fine.
You take another gulp. People say when you got enough alcohol, you don’t notice then taste no more, but those fuckers’re lying liars who fucking lie, and it still tastes like bitter…bitter piss.
Bitch burns, too.
“Shit is gross,” you say to nobody. “The fuck do people drink this?”
Probably cause it makes you warm. And vaguely floating. Your muscles seem to burn a lot more, but you’re still kinda happy. Not like, sing and flail around the living room happy, but happy enough the last…week? Ish? Whatever. The night is pretty. An owl hoots and squirrels run along branches. Bugs creak and hum and a crow in the trees above lets out a sleepy “crk.”
“Sorry!” you say. Realize you’re shouting. Whisper, “Sorry.”
Crows keep grudges, huh? You heard about that. Should let the little dude to back to sleep.
Probably shouldn’t be out in the woods by yourself?
Whatever.
Another gulp. Your whole face wrinkles.
“I thought you didn’t drink?” says a fucking rat man.
You turn. The woods spin a little, and you gotta blink before the two, pale silhouettes become one bastard man.
“’Sa party,” you say. “Errbody’s drinking.”
Why’s he here? You ain’t been gone long. Right? You’re pretty sure.
“How’s Lae’zel?” you say.
He winces. You’re shouting again.
You pitch your voice back down. “How’s Lae’zel?”
He gives you a look. It slides right on past you. “Jealous, dear?”
Your chest hurts again. Still for no fucking reason. “Pff. No. Just surprised how quick it was.”
For some reason, he pulls back in outrage (yeah! you recognize that one!). “Excuse me?”
“It ain’t nothing bad!” You only flail a little. Almost throw the wine bottle and then have to clutch it to your chest. Next to your soul flask. They clink through your shirt. “Just…y’know. ‘Fficient. You’re very efficient.”
He stands there like he’s trying to parse out what you’re saying. Did the potion wear off again? You gotta study more.
And who the fuck cares. You ain’t out here for him. You ain’t out here for nobody except to get shit-faced.
“Why are you out here alone?” rat bastard man says.
It probably ain’t supposed to be funny. Or maybe it just ain’t funny to him. Or anyone but you. But for you? You don’t drink, you don’t hookup, but you do plonk your ass down and get sloshed off a bottle and a half of wine all by your lonesome.
You want ice cream. You would literally kill a man for ice cream.
“If I didn’t know any better,” the bastard fuck boy says, “I’d say you look like you were trying to drink away your feelings.”
You squint up at him. White hair a silvery halo around his head in the moonlight. Eyes shining like new pennies in the low light. Fucker asks your opinion on who he ought to bang, and then finds you afterwards to…to fucking needle you?
You ain’t never been drunk like this. You flirted with getting mildly buzzed. Got borderline tipsy that once when Ryan fucking Meadows ghosted you and you ugly cried onto Sasha’s only clean work shirt.
None of that really processes, though. You ain’t really up to the whole “processing” thing right now; that barn door is long open and them hogs already sprinted for the hills.
“You’re such a dick,” you say, clicking the “k” at the end extra hard. “Pompous goddamn mess of a…of a man dick.”
He blinks like you just sprouted a beak and began reciting the entire works of Shakespeare in chicken.
And you ain’t done. “I got all the fucking reason to be off my damn ass out here, you shit. I lost my whole fucking family. Again. My whole fucking world. Fucking demons and brainworms and your ass. Maybe I just wanted to get drunk all by myself.”
You feel how dry your mouth is, and chug a few more swallows.
“Tastes like shit,” you say and try to scrape your tongue on your teeth. “Don’t know why anybody drinks it.”
Astarion still stands there. Fucking creepo. He’ll get all huffy and leave; toss you some snide bullshit before he goes. Jackass.
Only he don’t. He…lowers himself down. Not right next to you, but within kicking distance.
You think about doing just that.
“What even is that swill?” he says.
You look at the label. At the swirly-spiky letters all swooping together. Turn to him, with the most deadpan expression you can muster, and say, “What’s up, I’m Jared, I’m nineteen, and I never fucking learned how to read.”
It is, hands down, the best joke you ever made in your whole life. You bend over laughing. You cry, laughing. Your bladder twinges and you keep laughing.
But then something happens. And you’re still laughing, and your eyes is watering, but now it hurts. Now you can’t breathe and nobody else is laughing with you cause they don’t get the joke and never will because your world is dead. Not like, actually. But they might as well be.
And like hell you want Astarion to fucking see that. So you shove the bottle at him and turn away like it’s just the giggles. Ain’t nothing to see here. Just a giggly drunk.
No one is ever gonna get your jokes. Ain’t nobody gonna know what “Wednesday my dudes” is. Or the helium balloons. Or the yoga grinch.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck.
Wine sloshes in the bottle. Astarion somehow gives an audible grimace.
“I think you grabbed the worst of them, darling. This is pure vinegar.”
You don’t turn around. You try to shove the goddamn sniffles back in your face. You don’t cry in front of other people. That shit ain’t safe. It’s how everybody knows how weak and stupid you are, and you are not gonna give this jackass that ammunition.
But it keeps coming. The smell of the red dirt after a hard rain. Homemade pecan custard pie. Uncle Randy was gonna take you to the Cherokee Days this fall. You was gonna try to learn basket weaving. The old style.
And you up and disappeared on him. On all of them.
Again.
Only this time, you ain’t coming back. This time, you ain’t gonna find no pink bicycle waiting for you cause you ain’t never gonna come crunching back over that red gravel. Never gonna smell them rich pecan trees, and bitch about Uncle Randy’s nasty cigarettes.
This is what you do, ain’t it? You disappear. You run off. You leave your family. All of your family, even the piece of shit parts over and over and over.
The tears coat your cheeks. You swipe at them furiously.
The wine sloshes again.
“Our gith friend had other plans for the evening,” Astarion says after…you don’t know.
You glance up and the sky spins above you. Fuck, you’re gonna make yourself sick you keep this up.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
“That sucks,” you say.
He makes a startled, snorting sound. “There was none of that, actually. And that’s the problem.”
Ah. Ye-awp. That’d do it. That’d be why he’s here with you. His prospect failed, so now he’s come back to you. The easy one.
You sigh and finally lose your fight with gravity and flop onto your side. You wave vaguely over your shoulder.
“Go find one of them tieflings, then,” you say. “They can’t all be paired off.”
You’re tired, actually. Desperately so. The grass is nice and soft, and it’s safe out here, right?
Something shuffles. A rhythmic swish of grass. It’s the change in the air that alerts you. He don’t radiate body heat cause he don’t got none. But he is…surrounded by something a lot like a static field.
You look up to see him on all fours over you, peering down. Not like, over you, over you, it’s just his head. He wears no expression. Just…looks at you.
Have you ever seen him like this before?
“You didn’t seek any playmates of your own,” he says. And who the fuck talks like that?
“I got.” You start to lift your hand to waggle your remaining wine bottle, but your hands is empty. Ah fuck. “I had wine.”
“But you didn’t need to drink by yourself, darling. Both the cleric and the wizard would have gladly followed you out here.”
Well he certainly did.
Still, that blank face. Not, like, shuttered blank. Just…open. Or empty. It’s just his face.
…you should just tell him. All’ve this would be so easy if you just fucking told him. But he dumped you. He’s probably one of them guys who gets real weird when he finds out you’re thirty-five and are the sole provider of your own orgasms.
And it shouldn’t fucking matter.
“Didn’t want to,” you say. And do not elaborate.
Leaving the ball in his court. He fumbles with it. Stares at you like you just tossed him a soggy potato.
You’re kinda curious to see what he does with it.
His eyes narrow. You think he frowns. But it ain’t a pissy frown. It’s a thinking frown. And too late you remember that this bastard clues in on your plans real fast. That he seems to have a decent read on things (that ain’t trying to get into your pants).
Oh fuck.
“You haven’t dabbled with any of our merry band,” he says. Is that thoughtful? He sounds thoughtful. Shit on a goddamn cracker.
Um.
“And you saved me back at that goblin camp,” you say. And give yourself a mental high five, cause if he wants to delve into shit you don’t wanna talk about, take a reverse fucking uno card, jackass!
But he don’t dodge or parry, this time. He fucking leans in. You breathe in some of his own exhale and feel your cheeks begin to warm (through the booze).
“And what if I did?” he says, voice just shy of a whisper.
Oh. You didn’t expect that. Shit. What’s the play here? Uh.
“I’d thank you,” you say.
The sky spins above him. He’s the only steady thing in your vision.
“Is that all?” he says. Y’all are totally sharing lung air now, and his whisper gives you a goddamn ASMR shiver.
Except you’re drunk. And he’s way too close. And the shivers quiver down to your belly. The sky spins faster.
“What if I told you,” Astarion breathes, “that I’ve been thinking about our night together ceaselessly—”
Your stomach lurches.
Oh. That ain’t a shiver or a booze buzz or Astarion. You make some awful gagging sound, wrench up and to the side, and bring up about a bottle and a half of wine.
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catsafarithewriter · 1 year
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Are you still taking asks, if so Protective Baron
A/N: Here's a secret: I'm always up for taking asks ;) I pondered on this, and wasn't sure if you were thinking more self-sacrificing protective or angry protective, so I guess it'll be a surprise ;) enjoy!
x
"I know I have said this many times over the years, old friend," Toto says softly, "but this is the most reckless thing you've ever done."
The Bureau is quiet – too quiet – and so there's no way for Baron to miss Toto's gentle warning. Even the mantelpiece clock is silent, its second hand frozen a moment before the hour.
Baron tears his gaze away from Haru's still form, lifeless, but not dead – not yet, not if he has anything to say about it – laid across the sofa. He listens out for a breath that never comes. "Can you blame me?" he asks.
"It's not a matter of blame," the old crow Creation replies. "It's a matter of what else you're going to lose in the attempt."
"I'm not going to lose her," Baron snaps.
Toto and Muta exchange glances, and the unspoken agreement between them unnerves Baron more than any raised voice.
"Baron," Muta offers, uncharacteristically softly – like a mourner at a funeral, Baron thinks, and then discards the thought angrily, "this is kinda out of our hands. Death came for her – literally, with the bones and the scythe and the hourglass..."
"We've faced bad odds before."
"Not these kinds of odds," Toto says.
"We have time–"
"Time is very much the one thing we do not have." Muta gestures across to the desk. "Look at her hourglass, Baron! The only reason the last grain of sand hasn't already fallen is because you've pulled some fancy-schmancy time-freezing trick with the Sanctuary, but that ain't a solution!"
"It'll break the Sanctuary," Toto warns. "You can't put that kind of strain on this place for long."
"Then I'll save her before it gets to that point!" Baron retorts. He paces the Bureau, trying to look anywhere but that fateful hourglass.
It's an insultingly simple affair, too simple for the value it holds, and only contains a single speck of sand – suspended moments from falling. The handful of sand it had first arrived with, before Baron had been driven to such physics-breaking extremes, had each vanished as they fell through the upper glass. It sits atop his desk, still and quiet and ominous.
"It's not your fault," Toto says in the awful, unnatural silence. "What's happened to her... you had no way of knowing."
"Yeah, how could you have known being so close to a Creation world and its magic would be toxic to a human?" Muta adds. "It's not like either of you ever got a manual on this stuff. And Haru – she never let it slip to any of us."
To stay with him, Baron thinks. Because she would have known that he would have barred the Sanctuary doors from her if he'd had any inkling of the damage it was doing. Because in her heart-first recklessness, she would rather have risked it than walk away from the Bureau.
From him.
"She's not going to die," he says, and there is steel in his voice. "I won't let her."
"With all due respect," Toto says carefully, "I don't think Death is asking your permission."
"Then I'll just have to make sure he listens." He gathers up his top hat and his cane, throwing a sorry smile to his friends. "She's not dying," he promises. "Not today." And he steps out into the Sanctuary courtyard.
Out here, time resumes its steady march, the air alive in a way it had been lacking in the Bureau. He approaches a cloaked figure, their face veiled in shadows which give the impression of a skull. In one bony hand, a scythe rests.
"Have you come to your senses?" Death asks. "Will you relinquish the mortal?"
Baron stares up to the hood, to the empty abyss where eye sockets lie hollow in place of irises and pupils. "You're not having her."
A rumble rolls through Death. "Her time has run out, Creation. At best, you have bought yourself a goodbye, but mark my words, it is a goodbye."
"There must be a way. There always is."
"I am the one constant," Death replies. "Once the sands of her hourglass have run their course, they cannot be renewed nor returned." The hood inclines in a way which could almost be an apology. "Her time is up, Creation."
Baron's heart beats an unfamiliar staccato; a heady mixture of grief and love runs riot in his veins.
"Can they be traded?"
He feels Death's eyeless sight turn on him. "What?"
"The sand," Baron says. "You said it could not renewed or returned – but can it be given from another hourglass?"
"Gifted," Death amends. "It must be willingly given from one's own hourglass, but you, Creation, cannot."
"I must have an hourglass. Every living thing has an hourglass, you told us, and I live."
"Indeed," Death concedes, "but yours," and he sweeps an hourglass out from the recesses of his cloak, "is a Creation's."
The hourglass before Baron has a wooden frame, carved with intricate leaves, and the glass possesses an almost iridescent sheen – like his own stone-cut eyes. But it is the contents which is the strangest of it all.
There is sand within, but it is frozen in place, the grain fused together in an almost glassy fashion.
"You are an immortal," Death says. "You can no more portion out a fraction of your lifespan, than you can halve eternity. It's all," Death intones, "or nothing."
"Then take my all."
The bony hand tightens around the strange hourglass. "You understand what that will mean for you."
"I understand enough," Baron says, and he does. He understands that Haru will live. That's all he has to understand. "Give her my time. All of it."
Death looks to him with something that might be pity. The skeletal fingers dig into the glass. Cracks spiral out.
"Then so be it."
The hourglass shatters.
And in the Bureau, Haru wakes.
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daylighteclipsed · 1 year
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Living in Florida is just waking up to some new conservative bs every day
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wereshrew-admirer · 1 year
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long work day today but in my heart of hearts i'm drawing chine in a dress having a great time, because, gender i guess.
no alterations to their appearance otherwise, maybe somebody's convinced them to wash their hair, but only for the sensory experience of having some bounce to it afterwards, y'know?
i just..am ruminating on how good it feels to be so incongruous with people's expectations without any fear at all? or more, even, with the sense of power that comes from frightening cis people when you yourself are confident in your safety?
not even a hint of chine being embarrassed about it, just straight to the joy - slap a few flowers in their shitty beard and dare somebody to say something <3
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lorillee · 2 years
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astra inclinant is like for real a fic that i would get people into one piece just so they could read it. like . if you follow me chances are pretty good that you are a law or cora or doffy enthusiast but honestly even if you arent. go read it . go read it rn rn rn
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creatediana · 2 years
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A half-assed whiteboard imitation of Edwin Landseer’s Scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1851), done in a few minutes in Expo marker on 11/17/2022
Yes, it is currently sitting on the same whiteboard as where I drew Regina on Monday. As of yet, no one has erased either of them. 
#i know the tutor who works in that room on fridays and he said he'd keep an eye on them#process was the same as regina. i looked at a computer and copied in my notebook. then copied my notebook drawing lazily to the board.#i kinda like the lines and unclear style of white board drawings. they allow my flaws to look more stylized#also copying a secondhand source definitely has a different effect than if i were trying to copy the original which id never drawn before#theyd come out a lot less messy-by-nature and more messy-with-effort... not the look i prefer. i like getting a pencil practice first#maybe one day ill show the pencil drawings in my sketchbooks along w these. if i ever post enough.#this is definitely something id love to keep doing#2022#college years#drawing#my drawing#art#visual art#my art#edward landseer#shakespeare#a midsummer night's dream#i was pleasantly surprised nobody erased regina. when i looked in this afternoon (3 days later) the board was completely empty but her.#kaily said if i was drawing smth else on the board i should erase one of them. but she liked bottom and titania better.#and i said i couldnt do that to lizzie... not after being so proud that she'd made it this far you know? 3 whole days in a math center?#that's nothing to be ashamed of.#the fact that it was left up despite that board being used daily is kinda like. aw :'''") it meant smth. they thought it worth keeping.#even if only for another day. and that's kinda touching.#these may both be erased someday by who knows who and who knows when. i probably won't be there. i couldnt stand to view it.#perhaps it's that kind of uncertainty of the art that imitates life. hmm yes quite.
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hag-o-hags · 1 month
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breaking news from the farm:
Dr Frankencow has been STEALING HAY OFF THE POTATO FARMER'S LAND.
For YEARS??!
also there's now talk of leaving me up there for late summer, for Keeping An Eye On Dr Frankencow reasons
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starlooove · 6 months
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On the note of some of y’all wanting confident characters to always have some secret insecurity sometimes the mean tough as nails bitch is just a mean tough as nails bitch
#this is about pizzazz#BUT ALSO#here’s my thing right#like i do think pizzazz cares about the other misfits but I also don’t think she has this like. secret soft side#i think it’s a lot more fun if part of her thinks she should#which caused her to double down and be herself to the fullest#am I making sense#like when the asshole character reveals they like cocktails and strawberries#pizzazz doesn’t have that. she’s rowdy and arrogant and loud and rude (she can say it but nobody else can! especially not Jem!)#and she does care for the misfits but that’s how she cares#she throws money at them because that’s what her father did but she doesn’t want them to go away or leave her alone like her father wanted#her to do when he spoiled her#so she makes some kind of effort. and sometimes she sees the looks on their faces as if they’re waiting for her to…open up or something#but there’s nothing there. this is who she is. pizzazz is ALWAYS who she is. and they love her for it but she knows they’re slightly shocked#which is fine. it’s good that they get over this early on instead of wasting their time on it (on her)#she doesn’t expect for them to fall for her harder to be her ride or dies and come out stronger#she’s pleased but she’s genuinely surprised but maybe some surprises are okay actually#BUT WHAT ABOUT HOW SHE ACTS TOWARDS HER DAD?! u May be asking#well I think she’s very aware that that’s out of character for her#i think she hates when she’s like that but she can’t help it#she can’t help shunning pizzazz who she KNOWS daddy doesn’t like and becoming Phyllis#begging for a scrap of attention and throwing a tantrum when she gets a band in return#at least as pizzazz she has some power. people are scared to fuck with her and they’re terrified to fuck with her friends. bandmates.#(btw this was all like stream of consciousness how pizzazz sees herself kind of in my mind. to me she does have kind of a soft spot - for#her band obviously for stormer moreso but also the way this manifests isn’t really in a sickly sweet slow ballad kind of way. more desperate#possessiveness and mowing down anyone who’d make her slightly upset. it can get real toxic real fast but it’s real)#anyways the post itself is real to me but not very related to these tags just wanted a segue sowwy
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parlerenfleurs · 10 months
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Genuinely confused as to how one could enjoy this GO season. No shade, obviously, it's awesome that it made people happy, but... It's just so badly done, in my eyes (unless Ariaste's unified theory or something similar proves true). I'm confused.
I did enjoy Aziraphale, Michael Sheen can only ever be a pleasure to watch, him and his lovely smiles.
But... Maggie?? If this is people's notion of a cute lesbian romance then I'll be over there with the freaks, because she gave me the eebie-jeebies with her attitude, and it should have annoyed Nina tremendously, or she should have been annoyed at Nina's attitude and left her alone from the start.
I prefer my creepy romances to be intentionally creepy.
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daincrediblegg · 2 months
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no you know what I'm going to scream about the stuff I talked about in the tags of this post publicly
I'm tired of the well-meaning "don't feel bad if your work only gets 20 notes your genius is what counts and do it for you!" bullshit. I've had a good handful of friends who have straight up DEACTIVATED in recent months because their work was not getting reblogged AT ALL. No, it wasn't from lack of not being well-liked, no it wasn't from lack of trying to make sure it was getting out there to the people they knew would engage with it. It was because no matter how much they were praised privately for their work, when push came to shove, absolutely NOBODY reblogged it and gave it the audience that it was due, and I'm tired of people shoving the "unsung genius" narrative as an excuse for it. Nothing excuses that. And the boop event really proved that.
because I know given the opportunity, indiscriminately pressing a button (sometimes 10 thousand times, as I did) is not beyond this website's capability. y'all loved doing that. and look at what it wrought. nothing but love and affection and happiness. just from a couple of quick clicks of a little paw button. sure. nobody knew who you booped but the other person (which is how likes used to work on this website, btw). there was an element of anonymity to it. but that is kind of the core of this website that no other social media platform still has: the ability to be anonymous. and hyper-curating a blog on here like you might on twitter or instagram to project an image is simply not viable. and hey. you wanna know a secret: literally nobody cares what you post or whether it goes with the "theme" of your blog or not. yeah. I know. CRAZY concept in this day and age. but literally. I myself have reblogged things that have had nothing to do with whatever I am currently fixated by and you know what happened to my follower count? not a damn thing. in fact, I actively try to reblog things specifically BECAUSE it's my friends who made them (even though I'm not always good at KEEPING UP WITH HOW MUCH THEY POST @prismatica-the-strange will NEVER GO UNRECOGNIZED by me).
And you know what fucking sucks? I have to deal with this too. surprise right? you ever wonder why I reblog fics or art I post like 20 times the day that I post them? do you ever wonder why I ask about tag lists and beg for asks all the time? IT'S BECAUSE EVEN I GET LIKE. 5 LIKES ON THE THINGS I POST. AND THE REST OF THE REBLOGS ARE MINE SO I CAN MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE WHAT I MAKE GET TO SEE IT. and I say that knowing that I'm certainly not an unpopular blog, or an unpopular writer. I know that people love the stories that I create. Hell, half of the people that I've talked to about lady terror have told me that they consider her to be canon (AND EVEN SOME!! THOUGHT SHE WAS!!! WITHOUT EVEN HAVING WATCHED THE SHOW! WHICH IS STILL SO SO WILD TO ME!!!) But especially in the last 4 years (which really dates this phenomenon), my posts, no matter how well received they've been amongst people I've talked to about them directly, I still go into the notes and at least half (often more than half) are MY reblogs to make sure people saw what I posted. and it happens every single time, and I can't tell you how much it crushes me considering that it used to be that I would be able to post it only once, and people would reblog it sometimes even HUNDREDS of times.
It's not about popularity. it never has been. it's not about anxiety. or shifting website cultures. even if you lurk, the simple fact is, that if you want people to keep making what you love. you have to reblog. your theme won't suffer because you reblogged a fanfiction that you really admire. your posting won't be ruined because you reblogged some fanart from someone in a different fandom. really. I promise. and if people do unfollow you for that? who needs em. followers come and go but you should NEVER have to cater to them. on this website it has ALWAYS been the other way around. lean into it. make it yours. put stuff you ACTUALLY WANT to be seen and that you love and appreciate on your blog. no matter how old it is, how new it is, no matter how niche or off-theme it is.
so please. if you really want to show your appreciation for someone's work? you reblog. it's really as easy as that. check the tags. add some when you reblog if you like. but please for the love of god reblog. it's as easy as booping and even more rewarding for the people who you reblog from. if you want to let someone know that their work is genius and appreciate it? show it. reblog. then DM them if you're too nervous to say what you want to say but not in a public forum. but for christ's sake. REBLOG.
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dcvina-claires · 12 days
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the year is 2006. you’re an avid fan of collegiate exy. kevin day recently transferred from the best team in the league to the worst after breaking his hand in a skiing accident. before the season starts, janie smalls attempts suicide. she’s a fox, so absolutely no one is surprised by this. however, this means that david wymack has to find a new striker. he picks up a neglected, unremarkable kid from millport. for some reason, this mysterious nobody thinks it’s okay to publicly humiliate riko moriyama, king of exy. apparently, neil josten and kevin day talk shit about riko all the time (this confuses you. kevin and riko are supposed to be best friends). not long after, seth gordon dies of an overdose. once again, it’s the foxes, so no one should be surprised, but something is… off. seth was clean, and it didn’t seem likely for him to throw it away. the foxes don’t get anyone to replace him. despite being short a player, they’re performing better than ever before. you don’t want to admit it, but neil josten can probably be credited with a lot of the foxes success. and something is off about that kid, too. he’s a 5’3 brunette with brown eyes, and then suddenly he’s not. he comes back from winter break with red hair and blue eyes, but more interesting than that is the number four tattooed onto his face, marked for the ravens, marked for the perfect court. the normal minyard twin murders someone in cold blood. neil josten is actually nathaniel wesninski. his father, the butcher of baltimore, tortures him and burns his tattoo off. the trojans throw away their shot at winning. kevin covers up his tattoo with a queen chess piece. he’s never been skiing, the theories behind what happened to his hand are endless. jean moreau transfers to the trojans. this isn’t helping with the abuse allegations. despite everything stacked against them, the foxes beat the ravens. the unhinged minyard twin shatters riko’s hand to stop him from murdering the mafia kid on live tv. for some reason, this is riko’s final straw and he kills himself. some people are blaming kevin, andrew, and neil, but you personally believe that it’s a tad bit dramatic to commit suicide after losing one game and breaking a hand. the rest of the ravens don’t seem to agree, as they’re all suddenly in the most fucked up game of “follow the leader” known to man. jean moreau is spotted being escorted from the foxes dorm room a bloody mess, but that’s only the beginning. one of the ravens stabs himself with a letter opener, another steps onto the subway tracks, and a third overdoses. it’s 2007, and you started saying that the ravens were in a cult as a joke, but you don’t know if it’s a joke anymore. you’re seriously starting to consider that your favorite sport was created solely as a front for the mafia
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luveline · 1 month
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Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3
ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k
“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.” 
“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.” 
“I understand, but–”
“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.” 
You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?
“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself. 
The door opens while you’re looking through your bag. 
“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?” 
You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.” 
“Did you call them?” 
Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden. 
Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull. 
“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks. 
You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top. 
Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ? 
“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly. 
You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.” 
“We really don’t have time to waste.” 
“I know, but my blood sugar–”
She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”
“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”
“Clearly not!” 
“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.” 
The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn��t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed. 
You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.” 
If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.” 
Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?” 
“You want to chew it for me?” you ask. 
He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.” 
He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick. 
“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.
“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth. 
He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut. 
In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?” 
You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.” 
“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?” 
“No,” you say apologetically. 
“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.” 
Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”
“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”
“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.
“How did you get so low?” he asks.
“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?” 
“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.” 
“Don’t usually get so dizzy.” 
“When was the last time you were below seventy?” 
“Don’t know,” you mumble. 
Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?” 
He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke. 
You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard. 
By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her. 
You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.” 
“I understand.” 
You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.
He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.” 
“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble. 
He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.” 
“What do I get in return?” 
He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get. 
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monstersflashlight · 4 days
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Do ghosts count as ‘monsters’? Cause if they do imagine moving into a haunted house and suddenly waking up in the middle of the night feeling surprisingly full, looking down and not seeing anything. Or bending over the kitchen island while reading through some mail, skimpy shorts and a skimpy top on when you suddenly start getting pounded from behind… OR WANDERING HANDS WHILE YOURE IN THE SHOWER, ugh so many ideas…so many hot ideas 😞😞
Someone else asked: Hi! Would you make more ghost content, please? Like a horror fan moving into a haunted house, then getting randomly and repeatedly getting sexy surprises or something. Uh, if you're interested, that is. If not, don't worry about it. :)
Hi anons! Ghost def count as monsters. You can find another story about ghosts here and a short txt here. This one went way overboard with and I'm in fucking love with it, it's probably top 5 hottest things I've ever written. Hope you like it!
Spectro-cum
Ghosts x fem!human || free use, groping, dub-con
You didn’t think ghost existed until you found yourself living in a haunted house.
When you saw the price of rent you didn’t think twice about moving in. It was so cheap and the house was so big, and the pics looked phenomenal. You should have asked yourself why it was so cheap in the current housing market. You should have guessed it was wrong in some way. And it was.
Things started to become weird when things moved on their own. At first, they just moved some keys, opened some doors… No big deal, you weren’t going to move out of a great house just because there were a few ghosts living there. They didn’t pay rent, but you didn’t care about roommates. It was okay, just annoying, but okay. You found your stuff soon enough, the cabinets and doors could be closed. You were fine.
Then the touching started. You were bending down to grab something under the sofa when you felt something pinching your ass. You screamed, startled and a bit mad. You turned around, but nobody was there. Of course nobody was, they were fucking ghosts in your haunted house. Dang. What started as a pinch developed into caressing your ass, your legs, your neck… They let their ghostly hands caress your body every once in a while, making you shiver and frown. But it was still not enough to kick you out of a good house. You could deal with the ghosts, the housing market not so much.
But it didn’t end there. They started groping you. You woke up one day with what felt like hands holding you down, you trashed and tried to get free as ghostly laughs sounded around your room. You cursed them as they undressed you and played with your tits for what felt like hours. Probably was. They pinched and twisted and sucked on your nipples until they were puffy and oversensitive, until your pussy was so wet you could hear the slickness every time you rubbed your thighs together. And they didn’t even make you come, they just disappeared when they got tired. You had to touch yourself after. Fucking ghosts.
The groping started to be a bit annoying. You could be bending down and someone pulled your panties down and probed your asshole. You cursed them and they left with a laugh. Another time you were doing laundry and ghostly hands held you inside the washing machine like you were in a bad porno. They poured some detergent on your ass and fondled you until they got bored. At some point, they ripped your clothes off and started groping you in the middle of the hallway. You liked that shirt, damn it.
And then they went beyond all you were expecting. You were showering one morning and you felt the water turning cold, their latest discovery, making your nipples pebble under the spray. You cursed out loud when you heard the ghostly laugh and the water stopped. And then they stopped playing. Hands grabbed your arms and pinned them to the wall, more hands took your ankles and held them apart. Another hand started pinching and caressing your boobs, making you groan involuntarily, your pussy getting wet. You didn’t know how many of them there were, but the amount of hands you could feel in your body said at least four.
One of them took upon himself to spread your pussy lips, spreading your wetness all over your clit and frantically rubbing it. Your legs gave out under their assault, but they didn’t let you fall. They held you in the air as you felt a dick being shoved inside of you. You cried out as he hit your G-spot repeatedly, some fingers kept rubbing your pussy. And without a second to spare, the one fucking you came, you felt him twitching and shooting inside of you. You looked down and there was some kind of blue liquid leaking out of you, sticky and slimy. Gross. The next one took his place, same thing. A few dozen thrusts and they were coming inside of you. When they all finished and you were dripping, they took upon themselves to pinch every sensible place of your body until you came. They released you then, your pussy a mess of spectro-cum and your body spent after being tag-teamed by ghosts. Fucking ghosts.
From that point on, it was like a magical limit had been lifted. They used you wherever and whenever they feel like it. It was weird the moment of the day that you didn’t have some ghost cum dripping down your legs. You opted out of wearing panties a couple days ago, tired of having them ruined. You stopped wearing pants, too, what was the point if they’ll end up messy either way.
They had no limits, and they had no worries about you either. They didn’t care if you were awake or asleep, eating or busy with something. One second you were reading through your mail and you felt a cock filling you to the brim, pounding into you without any preamble. They didn’t even try to satisfy you anymore, they just used you as a cum-dump for their come, jerking themselves inside of your pussy and leaving soon after. You sighed and kept doing whatever you were doing at the moment, tired and sore, but so turned on that it was almost painful.
Usually they used you one at a time, giving you a while to get yourself together and do some stuff around the house before you felt another cock shoved inside. But sometimes they didn’t even wait a few minutes. Sometimes not even seconds. One cock was pulled out and another was pushed in, making impossible for you to get anything done the whole morning. It was maddening, and annoying… And made you so fucking hot you were horny all day long. You had to rub one off multiple times a day to relieve some of the pent up sexual frustration of being fucked and ignored all day. Fucking ghosts.
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