#will still whine with ‘but I’m le tired’ occasionally

[spacestationdaedalus]

when my demons won’t let me be

or: not in his right state of mind, Jon accidentally compels Martin. It’s not okay, but it’s okay.

or or: i spend so much time reading sick fic and i finally wrote one of my own angst and plenty of hurt/comfort, warnings for canon-typical compulsion and descriptions of panic and disassociation

Martin wakes to a shifting of weight and a cut off breath. It's a hazy half-awareness, coming to him under a snowdrift, on a radio station drowning in dull static.

In a well-practiced motion, Martin extends an arm over the covers to rest on Jon's chest. He doesn't let the full weight fall, not yet. Enough for Jon to know he's there, a touch light enough that Jon can readily push away or lean into. It depends on the particular brand of nightmare, the terror that's chosen to follow him to sleep. Sometimes he sets Martin's arm aside with a gentle squeeze, sitting up against the headboard and taking comfort in the cool bedroom air and the sound of Martin's breathing. At least, in Jon's own words. Other times, he holds Martin's arm to his chest, taking comfort in the weight and warmth of it.

Neither of those things happen, though.

Jon rolls sharply, seemingly ignoring Martin's arm in favor of the other side of the bed. He curls around himself with a low whine, harshly cut off in the back of his throat.

"J'n?" Martin props himself up on one arm. Voice rough with sleep, but no less concerned.

Jon shifts, a back and forth movement that looks like it could be the shaking of his head. His shoulders are taut and trembling. He makes another sound that could be the beginning of a shout, and it brings Martin to full awareness. He moves his hands to Jon's shoulder before he has time to think, desperate to help, to comfort, to something.

"Jon, it's alright-"

“Don’t touch me!” Jon bursts out, dripping and full of static and oh oh oh. It cascades over Martin’s mind, oily and slick. His hands pull away like they've been burned, but numb and far off. As though belonging to a stranger.

He shifts away from Jon and off of the bed, limbs moving robotically to pull back the covers, to move him away until his back meets the bedroom wall. Martin's hands are raised halfway, frozen in a caricature of comfort. A puppet on strings. He wants to move, shout, anything. But the gaze of eyes he can’t see bears down on him, an insurmountable weight holding him in place. Like a butterfly pinned inside a glass display case.

Jon is sitting up, now. Eyes (eyes, eyes, he's all eyes) blown wide, bright and glassy even in the low light of the room. His breathing is ragged and uneven in obvious panic. Even with his hands clenched tight in the front of his nightshirt, Martin can see they’re trembling. Martin’s heart aches and he wants to help but he can’t move and Jon’s eyes are still on him and he can’t breathe and it hurts. And he's afraid. He can hear his pulse pounding in his ears, the eyes are still watching him and it feels so much like burning paper and righteous anger and Elias's face and everything Martin had been trying to forget.

Jon brings up a hand to cover his mouth. Horror and panic clear in his eyes, which Martin knows are reflected in his own. Then Jon backs away, clearly unsteady on shaking legs. Martin's vision starts to blur (when was the last time he blinked?) but he hears Jon's steps fade into the hall. And Martin can do nothing.

The back of Martin's mind still using logic was hoping the feeling would fade once Jon wasn't looking at him. Unfortunately, Martin is used to being proven wrong. Face blank, body rigid, mind screaming.

Autonomy comes back to him slowly, a tingling in his fingertips that trickles down his arms and leaves an awful shakiness in its wake. Nerves making up for lost time, maybe. Trying to catch up with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. A grip Martin wasn't aware of begins to loosen from around his ribcage, and his first real breath in ages is a shuddering gasp. The force of it combined with the jelly replacing his knees sends him sliding to the floor, using the wall for support.

Martin breathes. In. Out. The first breath is molten in his lungs. His eyes water against it, and the second one is even worse. The third leaves as a sob that echoes back at him. In one last betrayal of his body against him, the tears spill over to drip down his cheeks. Martin rests his forehead against his knees and wills himself not to fall apart.

The Lonely was easy, in that regard. For months, Martin didn't have to worry about this kind of thing - the fear and anger and gaping misery that had been following them for so long. But evidently suppressing your trauma with more trauma wasn't a healthy coping mechanism. Go figure.

Leaving the Lonely was hard. Martin had spent most of the first 48 hours oscillating wildly between numb detachment and emotion so overwhelming he thought he would drown in it. Jon helped. He was patient, gentle, all the things Martin thought were too good to be true.

Martin forces himself up as soon as he's able. Maybe sooner, given the way the room sways when he stands. But it passes after a moment, and Martin goes to find Jon.

The house is dark. The occasional creak from the pipes and floors could be off-putting, but compared to everything else, it's benign. He uses fingers brushed against the wall to guide him down the short hallway.

"Jon?" He calls. The floor creaks in response.

Martin reaches the threshold between the hall and the kitchen. The haze of the moon behind thin clouds bleeds through the window above the sink, providing just enough light to see. Martin catches a shadow out of the corner of his eye, but it isn't actually a shadow, and Martin lets himself feel a hint of temporary relief.

Jon is tucked in the corner between two cabinets. Head buried against his bent knees, hands gripping into his hair in a position that mirrors Martin's from mere moments ago. Martin's heart leaps into his throat.

"Oh, Jon." Martin kneels in front of him, slow as to not startle him. If Jon notices, he makes no sign of it.

"Jon?" Martin reaches, but stops halfway. He doesn't want a repeat of before. His palm itches, but he keeps it airborne. Until he knows it's okay.

Jon makes a sound in the back of his throat, one that Martin hasn't heard before. His next inhale is strained and wet and - oh. 

Martin had never seen Jon cry before. Angry, upset, shaken, sure. But not this. It twists something awful and thorny in his chest. Martin wants to hug him, but he keeps the few inches between them.

"Don't-" Jon starts suddenly, and for an awful moment the hairs on the back of Martin's neck stand up on end. But Jon cuts himself off with a keening noise, and curls further into himself. His shoulders are trembling, either from holding back sobs or the biting chill of the poorly-insulated kitchen floor, Martin can't be sure. Probably both.

"I-I'm sorry-" Jon stutters, sounding like each word is a fight to get out. "I-I-I don't - I don't know…"

"Just breathe, Jon. It's alright."

Jon shakes his head against his legs. "N-no, you need to-" A sob cuts him off.

"Need to what, love?" The term of endearment slips out naturally on Martin's tongue. If Jon notices, he doesn't say so.

"Leave." The last word crackles slightly in the air, like static electricity threatening a shock. Martin freezes. The compulsion threatens to overtake him, but it's weaker than before. It rings in his skull, and Martin fights it back until it fades to background noise.

Jon whispers, barely audible. "I can't - I can't control it."

Oh.

"Alright, alright…" Martin bites his lip for a moment. Nods to himself.

"Okay, let's just - I'll ask you yes or no questions for now. You can, ah - just nod for yes and shake your head for no. Is that alright?"

Jon's face is still hidden, but that's alright. After a moment, he nods enough for Martin to discern the movement.

"G-good, okay-" Martin pauses, not immediately sure what question to go with first.

"Did you have a nightmare, earlier? Is that what scared you?" Martin silently chides himself for asking two questions, but hopefully it won't matter.

Jon nods.

"Has this happened before? The, uh-" Martin makes a hand motion, but Jon can't see it. "Th-the 'not being able to control the compulsion,' thing?"

There's a pause, then Jon shakes his head. Martin frowns.

"Alright, that's alright. Do you think you can look at me?"

Another pause, longer. Martin doesn't press as the seconds pass. Then Jon slowly raises his head.

Jon's eyes are wide, rimmed with red and dark circles more pronounced than they had been in the last few days. Tears are steadily dripping down his cheeks, flushed dark against his complexion. His lips are pressed tightly together, and Martin can see the barely contained panic mingled with exhaustion in every line of his face.

"Hey." Martin greets, feeling like a small victory. Jon quickly casts his gaze down and to the side, not meeting Martin's eyes. He also moves his hands to wrap around his torso, shivering harshly against the cabinets. Martin frowns again. He racks his brain for the seemingly mundane moments from the previous day. Jon talking less as the day had gone on, his less-than-already-finnicky appetite, going to bed early because he said he was a bit tired. Nothing individually out of the ordinary, not after the hell they'd dragged themselves through just to get here. But-

"Jon, is it alright if I touch you?"

Jon nods almost immediately, but still avoids Martin's eyes. Encouraged, Martin moves carefully to press the back of his hand against Jon's cheek. It's warm - hot, even - to the touch. Martin checks his forehead for good measure, feeling the heat before their skin actually makes contact. Martin's winces in sympathy, moving his hand back to Jon's cheek. He uses both hands, for good measure, to cup Jon's face, and wipe the stray tears still dripping from his lashes.

"Oh, love. You're burning up." Martin says, gently. "That must have something to do with it."

Jon's brow furrows. He brings his own hand up to his face, seemingly to try and feel his own temperature. Martin can't help the quiet laugh.

"First let's get off the floor. 's not exactly comfortable, yeah?" Martin offers. 

Jon doesn't react, eyes locked in a middle distance between the two of them. But then all at once his expression breaks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Jon doesn't react, eyes locked in a middle distance between the two of them. But then all at once his expression breaks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Martin's heart leaps into his throat. "Oh, hey, hey-"

Jon's words are muffled by his hands, and broken up by harsh, jagged sobs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-I didn't-"

Martin moves forward slightly so he can wrap his arms around Jon. He can feel the shivers wracking Jon's frame, and the heat radiating off of him in waves. Martin tucks Jon's head under his chin, and holds him.

"Hey, it's okay." And it's not a lie. Martin was scared - terrified, to put it lightly. He knows he can't just brush that fear away. But he's not scared of Jon, never has been, never will be. And Martin know Jon, knows him and loves him and knows that he loves him back. Martin thinks that this might be more complicated than that, but right now, with Jon coming apart on the kitchen floor, it feels that simple.

"I know you didn't mean to, Jon. It's alright."

Jon shakes his head weakly in protest. Martin can't make out his exact words, jumbled as they are. But he feels the intent behind them, with the way they reverberate in his chest.

"We can talk about it later, when you're feeling better. But I'm not mad, I promise." Martin runs a hand through Jon's hair. It might have been a braid when Jon first went to bed, but it's mostly undone now. "Right now, I'm just worried about you. That's a nasty fever you're running."

They stay like that for a few minutes more. Jon's form is still a trembling leaf in Martin's arms, shallow and uneven breaths punctured by the occasional apology and stifled cry. Jon's forehead is pressed into his neck, burning like a furnace against Martin's skin.

Martin almost asks Jon if he can walk, but instead-

"Jon, is it alright if I pick you up?"

Jon tenses, and Martin immediately regrets asking. But then Jon nods affirmative, relaxing slightly into Martin's hold. Oh thank god.

Jon fits easily into the bends of Martin's arms, one at his back and one under his knees. Jon's hands clench the front of Martin's shirt, tightening and loosening in an uneven rhythm as Martin stands. It's easy for Martin to carry him the short distance to the bedroom, mindful of the narrow door frames.

The quilt and sheets are pulled back from before, which is helpful now. Martin eases Jon onto the bed. He brushes Jon's hair away from his face in what Martin hopes is a comforting gesture. But Jon still has that faraway, panicky look in his eyes, and Martin has an idea.

"Don't move, alright? I'll be right back, I promise." Martin presses a kiss to Jon's forehead, hoping he heard and understood enough of that to not mind when he leaves the room.

Martin comes back with a damp cloth and a glass of water. And a bottle of pain reliever - one that Martin had originally picked up from the store as an afterthought, but is grateful for now. He sets the glass and bottle on the nightstand and sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. Next to Jon, who hasn't so much as shifted in Martin's admittedly brief absence. Martin lays a hand on Jon's shoulder, but after a moment, moves to Jon's cheek. An olive branch to Jon's clouded awareness.

"Alright, love. I'm gonna lay this on the back of your neck, okay? Can you lean forward a touch for me?" 

Jon doesn't move or otherwise react for a moment, and Martin is almost sure he didn't hear it. But then he pitches forward slightly, and Martin shifts so he can support Jon's weight against his shoulder. He brushes Jon's loose curls to the side, letting his fingers linger there for good measure.

"It's gonna feel really cold, but it'll help. Easy," Martin murmurs, placing the folded cloth on the back of Jon's neck. Jon flinches at the touch, hissing between a groan and a whimper. 

"I know, I know." Martin soothes easily, adding other words of comfort here and there, lost to his memory as soon as they cross his lips. He holds Jon close, taking the chance to comb his fingers again through Jon's bed-moussed hair. He knows Jon likes having his hair played with, so Martin ever so gently works his way through some of the tangles, careful never to pull too hard or too fast. Jon's breaths slow and deepen - still marred by the occasional hitch, but a vast improvement from before. He gradually sinks more of his weight onto Martin's shoulder, until Martin is sure he's the only reason Jon is still upright. But Martin doesn't mind.

"Better?" Martin asks, when Jon's trembling passes and his breaths sound less like someone on the verge of drowning. Jon clears his throat.

"I- yes." He rasps, hardly a whisper. The word pulls a cough out of him, but he keeps going. "Th- thank you."

"Of course." Martin says. He all but beams at the sound of Jon's voice, wretched as it sounds. He considers making tea, but something about the bonelessness of Jon's posture tells him Jon won't be awake long enough to see a cup finished. But he does grab the glass of water from the nightstand, and shifts so Jon can take it in both hands.

"Drink some of that for me." Martin presses, and Jon doesn't argue. Martin reaches for the pain reliever next, shaking two pills out and handing them to Jon. He seems surprised at first, but quietly offers a thank you as he takes them from Martin's hand.

"How are you feeling?" Martin asks. It feels like a stupid question, but one of those stupid questions that you just have to ask in lieu of anything else.

"I'm-" Martin knows Jon is about to say I'm alright and something in his face must stop Jon from finishing, because he cuts himself off with a sigh. He presses the heel of his palm into his eye, suppressing a wince. "To - to be honest, uh, quite terrible."

The frankness of it could almost be funny, but Martin's heart aches instead. "I'm sorry. The medicine should help, at least."

Even without his glasses, Martin can make out the two in the hour place of the digital clock on the nightstand, and yeah, it's time for bed.

"And some proper sleep."

Jon nods, eyelids heavy. Martin takes the half-empty glass from his hand, and encourages Jon to lie back with a gentle push. Martin joins him on the other side of the bed, pulling the covers back over the two of them. He leans, partially sitting up against the headboard, inviting Jon into the place at his side if he wants it.

Jon fills the space immediately, burrowing his face into Martin's shoulder. Arms curled in front of him, pressed into Martin's side. He sighs softly. Martin watches the last of the tension bleed out of Jon's face, eyes closed. Jon's fever leaves Martin's side overly warm in minutes, but Martin can't bring himself to mind.

He's sure Jon is already asleep, but-

"M-rtin?"

"What is it, Jon? Do you need something?"

Jon makes a negative sound into Martin's shoulder, shaking his head. It's quiet for a moment, save for their breathing.

"I love you."

Martin freezes, and the response comes as naturally as an inhale after an exhale.

"I love you too."

#the magnus archives #tma #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #jonmartin #tma fics #my writing #i have not proofread this but i'm also proud of it pls forgive me

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Untitled

Inspiration struck last night 👀 - putting this here so you can let me know if it's worth continuing/if you would want to read more of it. Super AU!

Jane cut the engine of her Ford Ranger just outside the tiny strip mall off of Sixth Street. It had been a splurge just after she got brought on as the head baseball coach of Empire High School, a treat for herself for finally getting a big-person job and generating some regular income. Her mother had convinced her to do it, actually, because Jane had been on the fence for months, waffling so many times that Angela piled her in the family Buick and dropped her off at the dealership. Find your own way home, Angela had said, and it better be in that brand new truck.

Now, Jane was thankful for the push, because southern California summers in her old Civic with the busted A/C were no fucking joke. They were still no joke now, but at least she could blast cold air on her face when needed. Like now: even at six thirty in the morning, temperatures climbed above eighty in early August, and she settled into the discomfort of an already damp back. At least her front still looked fresh. She glanced in the rearview mirror one last time before she got out, taking off her adjustable black cap with her school’s insignia and smoothing the tied-back black hair on top of her head. Presentable and believable: a baseball coach with a ponytail and a Nike dri-fit short sleeve windbreaker over her t-shirt.

She hopped out, satisfied enough to not be looking like a hooligan, and when she planted her turf shoes, she could tell the asphalt was already on fire. The boys were gonna be whiny as hell this afternoon. That made her grin just a little bit. She ambled up to the donut shop-slash-panaderia on the corner, straightening her posture when the door jingled and signalled her entry.

The short, middle-aged woman with her graying hair in a bun and an apron around her waist brightened when Jane approached the counter. “Buenos días, Coach Rizzoli,” she greeted with a smile and voice so cheery, she’d obviously been up for hours already. Probably baking as Jane finished weight-lifting in her backyard before the sun came up.

Jane smiled softly in return. “Buenos días, señora Gutierrez,” Jane said, deferential even though at nearly 5’11”, she must have been almost a foot taller than Mrs. Gutierrez. “Como está?” Short Spanish phrases sounded pretty darn good in her mouth, she had to admit, for all the Sicilian she heard growing up, and for being a product of Santa Ana. Spanish was more common than English in a lot of her friends’ homes growing up, so she caught on quick. At least enough to carry on a polite conversation, if needed.

“Bien, gracias. Tengo sus conchas aquí,” Mrs. Gutierrez asked as disappeared behind the counter to find what she was looking for, Jane’s order, reappearing with six pink donut boxes.

Jane opened her nostrils wide to take in the smell of flour, sugar, and a hint of cinnamon for the white conchas, her favorite. It was enough to feed a small army, which felt just about right for the staff meeting she had been tasked with supplying breakfast for. The first of the new school year. “Qué bueno,” she replied, not sure if she was referring to Mrs. Gutierrez’s overall well-being or the pan in the boxes. She pulled out her cash to pay, slipping her wallet in her back pocket, and in the seconds that it took her to do that, a single, piping-hot styrofoam cup of coffee appeared on the counter in front of her.

“Y un cafecito come le gusta,” said Mrs. Gutierrez with a wink and a smile. Occasionally, she did this, and it was her way of taking care of Jane, one of their family’s best customers.

Jane had learned not to refuse it. She just blushed and bowed her head a little bit, her lips pursed in a bashful smile. “Muchisimas gracias,” she said, taking a sip. Mrs. Gutierrez always left the cinnamon stick in it and added minimal creamer, just how Jane liked. Jane held back a moan. She decided she’d partake of the rest in the car, and then pocketed her change.  She picked the boxes up by the string tied to them and huffed, ready to begin the day. “Y el Jonny?” she asked, and Mrs. Gutierrez nodded her head towards the back of the bakery.

Jane nodded and made her way toward the door so she could pop around. “Qué tenga un buen día, Coach,” Mrs. Gutierrez called after her.

“Igualmente!” Jane replied, already on her way. She deposited her haul on her front passenger seat, keeping her coffee in hand, and then walked over to the alley between the Gutierrez bakery and the block wall separating it from the Cardenas market just across the way. She put her hat back on, threading her ponytail through its opening, and adjusted her Oakley sunglasses as she stood by the dumpster that Jonathan Gutierrez currently filled with broken-down cardboard boxes.

He heard her shoes scuffling his way, so he turned. “Coach Rizzoli! It’s early as hell,” he said, “what’re you doing here?” He sweated through the ribbed tank on his torso and the black basketball shorts on his hips. Jane commiserated, having helped her dad out on many a plumbing job in the summer when she was in high school.

“Well, first day for teachers is today,” she said, sipping her drink. “And I had to get some of your mom’s pan for the meeting. They’d expect nothing less. I’m here lookin’ at you because she exhausted all my Spanish skills, and I needed to remind you that practice starts at one today.”

Jonny, as tall as her, lanky too, smirked. “I’m sure you could’ve found a way to say that to her,” he teased, knowing that she couldn’t have, not well.

“You’re a riot. One o’clock, and not a minute later, a’right? I will not hesitate to bench our centerfielder for opening day if he’s late,” she warned. Then she started to turn.

“That’s like seven months from now!” Jonny whined, setting his box cutter down and running a hand through his thick black hair. “I got work today! Last day before school starts next week!”

Jane rolled her eyes. “The perfect hair thing may work on the girls at school, kid, but it won’t work on me. Find a way to make it happen - if you get into Fullerton, it won’t be because I sent you, but because you did it on your own. Part of that means showing up to practice on time. Even in August.”

Jonny sighed. His mom would understand, but his wallet would be crying. “I’m tryna save up for a pickup like yours, though, Coach,” he tried, batting his eyes for extra sympathy.

Jane laughed, and then he did. “Listen. You show up for practice on time every day this year, and you and me’ll have a talk about replacing today’s wages for that new Ranger, a’right?”

“Ok,” Jonny said quietly. He knew that Jane knew they didn’t have much money. And he knew that she knew most everything about him - she meant what she said. She’d taken him under her wing when she’d noticed his boundless talent and his faltering attendance. When she found out it was to make enough money to keep him and his brother on the team, she’d covered the cost in full. That was two years ago, and now that Jonny was an incoming senior, they’d righted the ship together. There was only a little more to go until he applied to the school of his dreams, the one with the killer baseball program and just miles from home.

It didn’t hurt that Jane was the first woman to play ball there as a range-y second baseman, was eventually drafted from Fullerton. He wanted to follow in her footsteps as best he could. “Good. See you then, kid,” she said. He knew that she knew the best way for him to do that was to grind. To eat, sleep, drink, and shit baseball.

“Hey Coach!” He called after her as she made her way back into the alley.

She turned around. “What’s up?”

“I wanna focus on my forearms this year. Should I go the Altuve way?” he asked, smiling.

The Jose Altuve way: banging sledgehammers into tractor trailer tires. Jane guffawed. “I’m not saying do it, but I mean hey, guy’s 5’5” and hitting thirty dingers a year in The Show, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jonny said. “I’ll take it under advisement. Thanks,” and with that, he waved Jane off. She spent the rest of the ride to school thinking about how to safely incorporate forearm work into the team’s regimen in a way that didn’t involve sledgehammers.

The bread had made her truck smell like heaven, and it was the perfect olfactory accompaniment through the working class neighborhoods of Coronita Heights - the part that she felt more comfortable in. She’d grown up down the 91 in Santa Ana, one of Orange County’s most vibrant cities, and her street looked a lot more like these than the ones that Empire High School sat on.

But Empire was one of the top 15 baseball programs in the state, and she had jumped at the opportunity to coach when she’d been approached about it. She packed the few boxes from her parents’ house, used the rest of her signing bonus to put a nice down payment on a house in Coronita Heights, and hadn’t looked back. It had been good for her - she kept in shape, used that teaching credential she’d worked on at Fullerton to teach PE, and led the Knights to a CIF championship in the five years she had been there. She hunted another.

Soon, the burger joints, smoke shops, and insurance spots gave way to expensive houses and palm trees, and she saw the massive campus come into view. She hopped out of the truck once she parked near the office toward the front, downing her coffee and tossing it in the trash. She tugged her belt, looped through her white baseball pants, making sure the fit was good, and then she took the breakfast out.

Another school year was about to begin, and she was determined to make it a victorious one.

___

Maura smoothed her dress in the full-length mirror of her bedroom for what must have been the hundredth time. It was tasteful: sleeveless, dark blue, with a thin black patent-leather belt around its waist. She paired it with black heels, and she looked good. She knew, intellectually, that she did, but this happened every time she started something new: the nerves kicked in and she doubted herself. She curled her impeccably styled hair behind her right ear out of habit, and then made her way downstairs for breakfast.

Her palatial home in Anaheim Hills sat overlooking the city below, still sleepy at six-thirty in the morning. She was anything but, having already completed her run and entire grooming routine. She perused the options within her double door refrigerator, still quite imposing even under the expansive wooden beams on the ceiling that ran from wall to wall. She thought about eggs, protein always a good start to the day, but then remembered the expected temperature and decided a cold breakfast of yogurt and berries would be best.

Again, it was too hot for warm coffee, but the massive cold brew dispenser she had readied just a few days prior called her name and she filled a tumbler with it and her favorite almond milk creamer. She’d have one cup with breakfast and a refill for the road, as she always did from May to October. She reveled in routine; it was what helped her not to shake as she brought a spoonful of honey, dairy, and strawberry up to her lips.

Today, despite her several years of doctoring, would be her first job with the living since residency. In fact, it would be her first non-clinical job, well, ever. Even when she had volunteered for research, it had been in pathology labs, or oncology centers, or Alzheimer’s wards. Now, she would head the pilot program for a pre-med track at Empire High School. Well, pre-pre-med, she corrected herself. The point of the program was to prepare students from non-private and non-charter school backgrounds for the rigor of medical school. And, as a graduate of the Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, as well as Boston Cambridge University for undergraduate work, Coronita Heights Unified thought her very qualified to head its inception.

Maura was humble, so she did not consider that they also factored in her copious research articles within the field of pathology, nor her several awards from the Medical Board of California. But they did, and so today she started her teaching/counseling position that included Advanced Placement Anatomy and Physiology, as well as Advanced Placement Biology and an elective of honors molecular pathology to boot. She had negotiated that last one to retain a taste of her passion outside of teaching.

Satisfied both with her breakfast and her mulling, Maura rose from her stool at the kitchen island, its white marble counter still gleaming from its recent clean this weekend, and made her way to the sink. She rinsed her bowl, placed it in the dishwasher on the top rack with the others, and then washed her hands for twenty seconds. Soap on, palm scrub, back-of-the-hand scrub, webspace scrub, for as long as it took to hum happy birthday to herself, twice.

She reveled in routine.

She unscrewed the lid of her tumbler and placed it under the dispenser in the refrigerator again, watching dark coffee wash over ice cubes with pleasure. The properties of matter, their predictability and regularity, calmed Maura. She could predict where each rivulet would go with accuracy, and then watch the change of color with no surprise when she poured in her creamer. She could control how light or dark it became, and thus control its flavor. She savored that one last ounce of control before she screwed her lid back on and walked over to where her purse and rolling cart awaited her at the front door.

She took one last look behind her, at the open concept living room so large it needed a sectional couch that no one used because people hardly ever dropped by, at the kitchen with state-of-the-art, industrial appliances that often cooked meals for one. It was her home, even if all of that were true, and the way that the southern California sun poured in through her floor-to-ceiling windows thrilled her. It thrilled her the way it had the first time she set foot in LA, for her first day of classes. She let that embolden her as she locked the door and stepped into her S-Class.

Navigation popped up as soon the engine roared to life, already pre-programmed with the route to Empire High School. She saw the calculation of a twenty minute drive, rearranged a few numbers in her head as she thought about the day of the week, the time of the morning, and the unpredictability of the 91, and decided twenty minutes was probably just about right. She’d given herself a cushion for twenty-five, and with a glance to the men’s style cartier on her wrist, she smiled and pulled out of the garage towards the main drag that would lead her to the freeway.

She jumped out of nerves and surprise when the system notified her of a call coming in. She smirked when she saw the caller ID: Dr. Nina Holiday, Hoag Hospital. Maura pressed the call accept button. “Need a consult already, Doctor?” she teased, her own voice always just a bit foreign in the morning after not having heard it for hours.

Doctor Holiday scoffed on the line. “You wish,” she replied, and then there were beats of silence. “I just wanted to call to wish you good luck on your first day. And to see if you’d reconsider.”

“If this is Hoag’s way of trying to lure me back, by making their premier neurologist do all the dirty work, I think I’m going to have to pass,” Maura said, and Nina laughed.

“No, this is just a friend saying you’re gonna be missed is all,” said Nina. “But I respect what you’re doing.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Maura demured. “Pathology is in... very capable hands with Doctor Pike,” she said, and then immediately the two women guffawed.

“You couldn’t even get it out before you started laughing!” Nina asserted, “see? We’re up a creek with no paddle!”

“Whom the department decided to hire in my stead is not my business,” Maura replied professionally, “especially if they do not take my recommendations into account,” and then with more spice.

“You right, you right. And I know I said it before, but I respect you for this. I think my road to medicine might have been a lot easier if I had someone like you at my high school to guide me through,” Nina said seriously. “Just answer me something: you didn’t leave because of Ian, did you?”

Maura stiffened. She hadn’t wanted to think about that on her first day, but here Nina was, dredging it up. Maura wrung her hands on her steering wheel. “No. Not really,” she answered, and that was the truth. The timing of it all had just been awful.

“Ok. I just… with him being gone, I didn’t know if that would be better, or if you’d be haunted by ghosts, you know? If you stayed.”

“I think I needed a fresh start either way, Nina. I really do,” Maura said.

Nina took the hint that they were done talking about it. Her voice turned chipper again. “I’ve got a call at seven, so I have to go, but I’ll talk to you soon, ok? You can tell me all about your first week. Maybe over bottomless mimosas.”

Maura sighed with relief. She would need that. “Sounds great. Nina?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for calling. I’m… I’m going to miss you, too,” Maura confessed.

“Aw, Doctor Isles, don’t get all mushy on me,” gushed Nina. “Bye. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” Maura said after the line had gone dead.

Nina’s call had lasted most of the ride. Maura was grateful. Nina had been one of the few people to get to know her at Hoag. The hospital itself had a very competent staff. Excellent, really. And Maura was one of the best, so this led to a never-spoken, always-felt air of competition. It didn’t really lend itself to friendship. But Nina had consulted with Maura so often, that a comfortable working relationship eventually morphed into a casual friendship. That turned into drinks on the rare weeknights they had off and brunch on Sundays at some of the best spots in Orange County.

They promised to continue, and they would of course, but for the first time in their friendship, they didn’t work a floor away from each other, and Maura resolved that while she would do everything to keep it alive, she had to acknowledge the change. Fittingly, as soon as she did so, she drove into the staff parking lot at Empire High. Her new beginning.

Her welcome e-mail mentioned a staff meeting today, Friday, in the lecture hall at the front of the school, refreshments provided. So, she pulled next to the gunmetal gray Ford Ranger to her right, and gathered her things. Her cart could wait until they were dismissed to ready their classrooms, so she deposited her fob into her purse and sipped on her coffee for fortitude as she followed the sidewalk pathway past the front office to the lecture hall. She had mapped out the route when she had found out about the meeting, deciding that touring campus on her own before she began would reduce her anxieties, as well as the possibility of unknown factors. It was also why she had arrived right on time: early meant possible one-on-one conversations with strangers, and late meant all eyes on her as she hustled in.

She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head when she reached the glass double doors of the hall, and breathed in one last time. It was a big, 360 degree breath: it engaged her pelvic floor and spread her ribs equally. It lowered her pulse and calmed her nerves, and then she was ready.

When she entered, she heard chatter. Lots of it. When she turned the corner and yanked open the wooden door of the room itself, she was shocked to see what looked like most of the staff already deep in conversation in their seats. Some stood, others stretched their legs over a couple of seats at once, some laughed and some nodded seriously. For a moment, Maura panicked, then checked her watch again. She felt her heartbeat fall a little bit when she looked up to the front and realized that no-one had started the meeting. In fact, there was a small line at the sign-in sheet, so she decided that rather than have a breakdown in the walkway, she should join the line.

She mustered as much courage as she could and stood behind the last woman, who smiled at her politely. Maura smiled back and thanked whatever powers that be that the woman didn’t try to engage. The line moved quickly, and staff members grabbed what looked like sweet bread just off to the side of the table as they signed in. She forewent the sugar and decided just to take the requisite printouts instead. By then, things started to feel a little more like a normal job orientation, so she turned on her heels to make her way back to the crowd.

The confident turn ended up being another mistake, however, because as she started to walk, she saw no openings. It was like the middle of a very bad dream, in which she needed so desperately to blend in, but all she could do was stand out. She felt eyes on her as she passed tables full of other adults, she heard conversations quiet and alter when she walked by.

However, just as she was about to give up and stand all the way in the back, someone called out. “Hey,” the voice was firm, raspy, and kind. She turned instantly and it kept talking. “You need a spot? I was savin’ this one for my brother, but, big shocker, he’s late.” Seated at a table in the middle of the hall with an all-white backpack on the empty chair next to her, two aluminum bat handles sticking out on either side of it, was… “Oh, and I’m Jane. Rizzoli. By the way.”

Jane Rizzoli. Maura thought the name fitting. Jane was so tall and so dark-featured and so handsome that she needed an Italian surname. And by god, she had one. One with a trilled-r and a plural i and everything: it was perfect for her in the way that all its sounds signified abundance. Maura’s mind rambled and she caught it; she wasn’t even sure how the phonotactic rules of Italian applied to Jane’s physicality, but they did, and Maura sat next to her without hesitation. She chanced one glance to the length of Jane’s torso as she curled to put her elbows on the table, and then she met Jane’s dark brown eyes.

It was then that she realized that Jane probably awaited some kind of response. “Maura Isles,” said Maura, holding her hand out. Jane shook it and Maura was not at all surprised by the firmness of the shake.

“Hey Maura. I’m uh, I’m the head baseball coach here. I also teach PE,” Jane explained. Then she looked down at herself, her uniform and the bats in the backpack now on the floor. “But you probably guessed that.”

Maura smirked, and laughed softly. “I don’t like to guess. It puts people in awkward positions. But I would say there’s lots of evidence to that fact, yes.”

Jane laughed openly and then took her hat off. “Well, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you’re the hotshot doctor that they hired for our new pre-med pipeline.”

Maura raised a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “And why would you assume that?”

“You talk like a doctor. And you dress better than everyone else in this room. Real doctor-y,” Jane wagged her own eyebrows up and down.

Maura watched Jane’s crooked grin, rapt. “One…” she began slowly, “doctor-y is not a word. Two, what if I were independently wealthy and taught, oh say, English?”

Jane shrugged. “Words are made up. And are you? Independently wealthy?”

Maura’s mouth twitched in humor. “Yes,” she answered. Jane threw her head back in defeat. “But, I am also the doctor piloting the pre-med program here.”

Just like that, the slender column of Jane’s neck brought her head forward again. “Thought so!” she said. Just as she did, The man who Maura knew from his photo online as the school principal walked in. People started to hush as he made his way to the front podium. Even she turned her attention, until there was the distinct warmth of whispering by her ear that dismantled all other thoughts. Jane was speaking. “Well, Dr. Isles,” she responded, “welcome to Empire High, then.”

#rizzoli and isles #rizzles #lauren writes rizzoli and isles fan fiction #the high school teachers baseball California AU no one asked for lmao #not sure if it's too niche or if there'll be interest for it #but it feels like if I do continue it it should be long? #idk we'll see

[neerasrealm]

Distrust

A story about Toby waking up after the events of his origin story. Trigger warning for some talk about trauma, blood, murder, self harm, panic attacks and some cursing.

Word count: 1941

The world seemed blurry as he opened his eyes. His body felt tired. He blinked in the dim light. The ceiling looked unfamiliar. It wasn’t his cramped, dusty attic room, nor was it his mom’s room or his sister’s. He shifted on the bed. It felt soft- too soft for it to be something they could afford. His first thought, as he rolled over and looked at the drawn curtains, was that he was in a hotel. The room had orange walls, and the curtains were a light grey. Light poured in through them, meaning it was still day, or maybe evening. 

Rolling onto his back again he groaned softly. His throat felt dry. Sitting up, he looked around. The room was empty, and way bigger than any room in his own house. He looked to the side, brushing messy brown hair out of his eyes. There was a table next to the bed with a glass of water on it. He reached over quickly and grabbed the glass, taking a couple long sips. He looked around some more. There wasn’t much of anything in the room. A wardrobe, two bedside tables and a mirror. That was all. He frowned. How had he even gotten here?

He- didn’t remember much. He hadn’t been able to remember much of anything since...the crash...involuntarily, he shuddered. He curled up, remembering flashes of the past few weeks. Voices in his head, the faceless monster that had been terrorising him, his- his own dead sister, wailing and walking towards him- her voice still echoed in his head even now. Calling his name, coughing on her own blood, her breathing raspy from her chest being crushed in on itself-

He buried his head in his hands, shaking. His shoulders jerked wildly, his panicked tics kicking in quickly. His nails dug into his scalp. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. He pulled his hands down, his bloody fingers going to his mouth. He chewed on them with little care for how badly he hurt them. Why should he? He couldn’t feel pain. None at all. He laughed horsley. He couldn’t feel pain but he could still feel the weight of his traumas, the weight of his grief, the weight of-

His crimes.

He’d- oh- oh god- he remembered now. His father. Below him, dead. The horrified look on his mom’s face. The fire-

He bit down on his fingers, hard, and whimpered. Tears rolled down his face and he sobbed. Loud, ugly sobs full of agony. He coughed and wheezed. This happened every time he cried. He’d find it difficult to breathe and he’d be reduced to wheezing and coughing. His sobs only got louder and his breathing got worse. Mixed with tears blurring his vision and the taste of blood filling his mouth, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. He stayed there. Shaking. Sobbing. 

When he finally finished crying he pulled his fingers out of his mouth. He took deep, wheezy breaths. He looked down at the blood trickling down his hands and sniffled. He hugged his knees and buried his face in them. He could only whimper softly to himself and twitch as he waited to calm down.

‘’Toby?’’

The very last thing he needed right now was a deep, unfamiliar voice calling out his name. His head shot up and he stared at the door, shaking in fear and twitching from his tourettes. He sniffled. 

‘’H-’’ his body shivered involuntarily. ‘’Hello…?’’

The door creaked open. Toby froze. His blood ran cold and his breathing quickened. He crawled back on the bed, frozen against the wall. Staring back at him was the white, faceless creature that had been tormenting him. It stepped into the room and approached him slowly.

‘’Calm down, Toby, I’m not going to hurt you.’’ It said in the same deep, unfamiliar voice from before. He was panicking too much to look at the second person entering the room after the creature. His body was shaking, his heart pounding as adrenalin filled him. The creature reached out to him, and Toby darted off the bed. He stumbled across the room to the window. He whirled around, staring at the creature as it watched his movements. ‘’Don’t worry I-’’

‘’How the fuck does it speak without a mouth?!’’ was all Toby could think. He looked behind him at the window. As fast as he could with shaking hands, he shoved it open and put his foot up on the sill. He heard two voices yell behind him but he didn’t care. He took a deep breath then leapt out the window. He screwed his eyes shut, bracing for the fall that would no doubt injure him badly.

But it never came. Instead, something gripped his waist and slowly pulled him up. He stared down at the ground that was getting further and further away. He stared at the forest in front of him as he was lifted up and away from freedom. He was ever so gently placed back on his bed and he realised, to his horror, that the thing lifting him had been a-a tendril- that had somehow appeared from behind the faceless creature. It disappeared again and Toby could only stare at the faceless thing and whimper to himself. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and crawled back to the edge of the bed.

‘’Please calm down- I-I mean you no harm I promise-’’ The faceless monster said again in a tone too concerned and caring to belong to- well, a faceless monster. Toby whined feebly. God he sounded pathetic and he felt it. Escape was impossible and he was probably going to die here. Eaten or torn apart or driven insane until he couldn’t take it anymo-

‘’E’s scared ‘ve ya, Slen.’’

Toby was pulled out of his horrified thoughts by the thickest fucking cockney accent he had ever heard. Definitely the second scariest thing he’d experienced today. He looked to the voice’s owner for the first time and looked them over. They were incredibly tall, with messy black hair, feathers on their shoulders, suspenders, striped socks that matched their cone-shaped nose and- oh yes, they were incredibly skinny and had pure white skin. The bandages around their- his? Hands and torso didn’t help either. It implied this...clown? Mime? Had been injured at some point. And that allowed Toby’s brain to suggest it was the faceless creature’s doing. Which made him more freaked out.

The faceless creature- Slen, apparently, looked at the mime-clown man. ‘’I mean- I’ve told him I don’t mean any harm,’’ somehow this monster sounded genuinely upset and worried. He looked at Toby. ‘’I just want to-’’

‘’Slen,’’ the mime- clown? Clown, he’s guessing clown, interrupted. ‘’Le’ me ‘andle i’. Ye’ll only freak th’ bin lid ou’ more.’’

Slen looked away from Toby and at his- companion? For a few moments, fiddling with his hands. ‘’Fine.’’ he finally said defeatedly. He looked at Toby as he grabbed the door handle. ‘’I’m sorry little one, I-’’

‘’Ye don’ call teens li’le un, Slen.’’ The clown interrupted. ‘’Now go. ‘Ll make sure e’s awrigh’.’’

Slen sighed and left the room, leaving Toby and the slightly less horrifying monster alone. Toby looked over at the clown. Was he supposed to be scared? Relaxed? Intimidated? He didn’t know, and he wanted to go home. 

"Calm down, kiddo. I ain' g'nna 'urt ya." The clown said calmly. "Take deep brea'hs fer me, alrigh'?" 

Toby closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. He counted to seven then exhaled, counting to eleven as he did so. He repeated the process until he felt calm enough to not want to try the window escape again. He opened his eyes and looked at the clown, still very much afraid. His neck twitched wildly, making his head jerk awkwardly.

"Y'okay?" The clown asked. Toby nodded. "Good." The clown approached the bed slowly and sat on the edge, still looking at him. "Ye prob'bly 'ave a lo' 'f questions, yeh?" He asked. Toby gave a nod. "Go ahead then. I'll answer 'em fer ya."

Toby fiddled with his bloody hands. Occasionally his fingers would curl up wildly, making him accidentally scratch himself. "Wh- where am I…?" He asked softly. 

"Ye're in our gaf, big 'ol mansion in th' woods. Ye live in one a th' 'ouses on th' edge 'f th' fores', dontcha?" 

Toby was quiet for a few moments, trying to translate the cockney into English. "Uh- yeah, yeah I do." 

"Ah. We live in th' fores', away from ye 'umans fer ah- obvious reas'ns." 

"So you're not human?" Toby blurted. The clown laughed, a noise that was hearty but rough and raspy, like his speaking voice.

"Nah, 'm no'. Ta pu' i' simply, I'm a livin' toy. Full a stuffin' an all tha' barry whi'e."

A- a living...toy? Barry White? Who- what- 

"What's um- what's your name then?" Toby asked cautiously. Every answer the clown gave seemed to bring up even more questions. The poor boy was getting more confused and unnerved by the second.

"Jack." The clown replied. "Ye're Toby, yeh?" 

"T-Toby Rogers." He mumbled. "Why- why am I here?" He asked softly.

"Well Slen found ya when 'e was comin' back wiv th' shoppin'. 'E saw th' fores' burnin' an' you in th' middle of i' all, so 'e pulled ya from th' fire an' brough' ya 'ere ta patch ye up." Jack pointed at the boy's arm. Toby hadn't even noticed it, but there were some bandages on his arms. "Ye didn' ge' burned too much bu' ye still looked pre'y bashed. 'E also found a lo' a- bruises an' scars- did wha' 'e could fer em." Jack looked at him, like he was hoping Toby would explain his other injuries. 

"He-" Toby gulped. "That thing took me here?"

"Yeh. Slen- 'e's always been one fer 'elpin' others…" Jack smiled a bit. "E'll bring ya 'ome, don' worry."

"No he won't!" Toby yelped. Jack jumped, seemingly caught off guard by the yelling. "He- that thing has been terrorising me for weeks! Standing outside my window and shit!" Toby's fear began to turn to anger. He'd been kidnapped, forced to kill his own flesh and blood, driven to the brink of his very sanity and this toy was telling him the creature meant him no harm?! "He's been in my head for weeks! I couldn't sleep because of the voices he put in my head and he- it made me kill my own fucking dad!" There were tears in his eyes again. He shook from all the pent up anger he'd been shutting out for weeks- no, months, maybe even years by now!

"Kiddo, I know Slen, 'e wouldn' do tha'." Jack looked concerned. 

Toby glared at the clown. "Well how the fuck am I supposed to trust you? You're on its side." He spat. Jack sighed.

"Ye don' 'ave any reasons ta trus' me, bu' neither me or Slen wanna 'urt ya." He said softly. "Wha' ye saw, wha'ever's been tormen'in' ya, i' wasn' Slen. I've known 'im fer over a century now. 'E doesn' do tha', 'specially no' ta kids." 

Toby didn't say a word. He just glared at Jack. Eventually the clown sighed. "Alrigh'. I'll leave ya be." He stood up and looked over at Toby. "Ye wan' lunch?" 

Toby hugged his knees and shook his head. He definitely wasn't going to eat anything that came from the monster or the clown. Jack sighed and left the room without a word, leaving Toby alone with just his anger, fear and bloody fingers.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #ticci toby #toby rogers #laughing jack #slenderman #slender mansion #writing

[angelicspaceprince]

If The Punishment Fits

Author: Ama

Title: If The Punishment Fits

Pairing: Scarabee/Reader

Character/s: Scarabee

Word Count: 2, 896 words

Warnings: A/B/O, BDSM themes, smut (18+ only), boot riding, overstim, multiple orgasms, boot kink

Tags: N/A

Prompt: Close to your heat, you decide to get a little bratty. Scarabee isn’t going to tolerate it.

Notes: Again, @sapphic-florals​ was being a shit so I wrote this as a punishment. Enjoy my lovelies.

Buy Me a Coffee

If The Punishment Fits

It was dark. The silk, black, blindfold made sure you couldn’t see and the binds made of matching material limited your movement to just rocking your hips against the solid mass that's currently pressed against your heat. Your hips stuttered to a halt when you gasp, pressing down a little too hard on your clit. You can hear your alpha’s discontent rumbling.

“Did I say you could stop mon cher?” You whimper at his warning, hips moving again, making sure not to graze your clit so hard against the unyielding leather of his boot.

It was your own fault, really. You were being bratty, and had been for weeks. Bee had been busy with work, and he had tried to make time to spend with you but. In his line of work? It wasn’t always easy, let alone possible. That still didn’t excuse you from pushing his buttons, however.

What tipped him over the edge was you telling him that you’d find another alpha if he was too busy to pay attention to you. You both knew you didn’t mean it, but the threat was there and that wasn’t something you could get away with, which you knew the moment his eyes snapped up to you, head twisting so he had a full view of you as he growled out “Quoi? Qu'est-ce que tu viens de me dire, Y/N?” You could feel the challenge, but you stuck out your jaw and simply informed him that he very much heard you. “Over my knee, omega.”

You scoff. “As if that’d work on me. I’m sure I can find an alpha who is more able to dom me than a simple command to come straddle his knee. It’s been so long, I doubt you could even handle me anymore.” The smile on his face is deadly as you start to dig yourself into your grave.

“C'est à moi que tu parles? Oh, petite fille, tu devrais savoir maintenant me parler avec plus de respect que ça.” He pats at his knee. “Here. Now.”

“I think I’d rather just leave and go find one of the other boys.” You’re about to remark how they would probably have time for you is cut off by a dark chuckle.

“Chiche!” You move to leave, ignoring him patting his knee taking him up on his dare. “Si vous quittez cette pièce, ma petite pute, vous le regretterez.” You don’t need to speak French to know that that is very much a threat.

And this was your punishment. Three days before your heat was due to hit, you were tied down and told to rock against him until you came. Which you did, expecting to be told to stop and clean up.

But then he told you to keep going.

And going.

And going.

12 orgasms later and you’re exhausted. Small praises helped you carry on but even then, your muscles are sore, cramped and covered in sweat. You are sure you are wet to your knees with your slick as you press your head against his thigh, nuzzling in when his hand moves to hold onto your hair lightly.

“That’s it, mon petite amour, let me hear those pretty little sounds you make. Let me hear your brain melt for me.” You whimper loudly.

“Alpha, please, I don’t think I can do another.” You beg.

“Chut.” You press your head down harder against his thigh as your hips continue to rock. It felt like every cell in your body was on fire, and the cause was the constant rubbing on your clit, crying out when he lifts his foot to the pressure builds, bringing you closer to number 13. “Écoutez mon petit oiseau chanteur chanter. Quels jolis sons elle chante pour moi.” He cooes as you shudder over him, head now moving for you to mouth at the fabric of his pants in an attempt to convince him to let you have a break. “Qu'est-ce que c'est ça? Ma petite salope veut-elle quelque chose? Continuez à monter ma botte, petit. Make Daddy proud, darlin’.” You whine as he starts to pet at your hair as you cry out against him, your 14th orgasm taking over you as you shudder and cry out, mouth feeling like it's full of cotton wool, just like your brain as you drool against the leg of his pants.

“Oh, sweet thing, has your brain finally melted for me?” You hear him snicker but you’re too tired to bite back as his hands carefully remove the blindfold from your face. You blink, the light of the room an assault on your eyes after so long in the dark. “You did so well for me, ma charmante femme.” His hands move to brush back sweaty hair with a smile as you slowly gain the strength back to sit upright. “You know what you have to do now?” You look at him, confusion evident on your face. “You made a mess, mon cherie, you have to clean it up.” You moan when your brain, although slowed from the fog, finally pieces together what he wants. To his credit, he does help you dismount and wiggle back, even if he didn’t untie you and he pushed down on your back so you landed on your face next to his shoe. It's only then you discover just how worked up he got you.

His shoe is soaked and the floor is saturated in your slick. To be fair, you are pretty impressed you managed to produce so much without being in heat. Above you, you hear the alpha clearing his throat. “Allez-y alors, chouette, allez travailler.”

You start with his shoe, tongue gliding against the soft leather as the earthy taste mixes with your own. You can’t help but groan as you methodically slide over every inch, stopping occasionally to press your lips firmly against the tip of the boot, causing Bee to laugh at your insistence of kissing his feet. You can pick up his voice speaking softly above you, words washing over you as you concentrate on just the feel and taste of leather on your tongue. “Oh, ma douce, tu m'écoutes et tu m'obéis si bien. Une si bonne petite fille, parfaite pour moi. Tu es si belle à genoux pour moi, mon ange. Je devrais peut-être vous garder là-bas, ça vous plairait? Oh. Je pense que oui.” You whine loudly as you move from his shoe to the floor, making sure to chase every drop you can against the hardwood floor. It's hard, you have to shuffle around, your knees are aching from kneeling for so long and your arms and wrists are sore from being tied in an awkward position for so long. But, you obey your alpha and make sure that the floor and his shoe is shiny with your spit. He chuckles when he catches you eyeing his other shoe but pulls you into his lap before you even have a chance to clean it.

“How do you feel, ma belle?” He asks as he calmly unties your hands, bringing them in front of you as he massages the redness away from your wrists.

“M tired.” You say softly as you melt under his administration, leaning in to find his scenting spot on his neck and purring happily once you find it, nuzzling in close as you start to relax into the smell of honey, liquor and something that you couldn’t ever place, but was just so quintessentially Bee that it always felt like walking home. “Sore. Hot.” You list off. He hums as he traces lightly over your back.

“You did so well for me, darlin’. Si fier de toi, douceur. Vraiment, je suis impressionné.” He purrs out. “Such a good little omega for me.” You feel him move to ghost his mouth along your neck until he finds his mating mark and mouths over it gently, causing you to keen at the heat against such a sensitive spot. “You going to behave from now on, cher?” You snort.

“No. When do I ever?” He chuckles, your statement very true.

“C'est vrai, mon amour. Une des nombreuses choses que j'aime et admire chez vous.” He states softly against your skin.

The two of you just sit together, you in silence as he murmurs faint praises in a mix of English and French. The stiffness and soreness goes away, but the heat does not. Instead, it seems to build. You shift in his hold a few times before your brain snaps to attention.

Oh.

“Uh. Bee?”

“Mm?”

“I uh. I think we may have-”

“May have what, little omega.”

“Ithinkwemayhaveprematurelysetofmyheat.”

“.....ah.”

“So.”

“Bedroom?”

“Probably for the best.”

#ama writes #ama answers #ama responds #ama's stuff #beetlejuice #beetlejuice (1988) #beetlejuice the animated series #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice shaggoth #beetlejuice the broadway musical #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice/reader #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice fanfic #beetlejuice x reader fanfiction #beetlejuice/reader fanfiction #beetlejuice x reader fanfic #beetlejuice/reader fanfic #reader insert #mafia au #mafia #scarabee #scarabee shoggoth #The Conglomerate

[millie1536]

Izzy Has A Shitty Immune System

The time Izzy ended up hospital with the flu

Also the song Anne sings to Izzy is called Mademoiselle Noir and it’s really good 

TW;Illness, Hospitals, Panic attacks, Mentions of child abuse

Izzy pressed the heel of her palm into the side of her head as she tried to focus on her homework. She had tried to make herself comfortable in the armchair in Anne, Aragon, and Anna’s dressing room. The show had started not long ago and Izzy would occasionally glance up at the screen in the corner of the room to see what they were up to.

The homework wasn’t difficult. All she had to do was read a poem and answer a few short answer questions. It was the kind of thing she and Cathy did for fun. Izzy liked to analyse things, she tended to overthink most things anyway and that was all analyse was really, overthinking. So why was she finding this so difficult. After another 20 minutes or so she gave up, after all she had the whole weekend to work on it and if she was still struggling she would just ask Cathy to help her with it.

Putting her schoolbooks aside she curled up under the big blanket they kept over the back of the chair, though she threw it off not long after as it was too warm. She was tired, and although the idea of falling asleep alone terrified her, she found she couldn’t stay awake.

When the show finished and Anne, Aragon and Anna returned to the dressing room they found Izzy asleep in the armchair.

“Let her sleep,” Anne told the others, “I’ll wake her up when we’re ready to go home.” Aragon and Anna agreed and the three began to take off their make up in silence, the dressing room had never been so quiet. it was about an hour later that Anne attempted to wake Izzy.

“Come on, kid. Time to go home.” Anne gave Izzy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze but Izzy shook her off.

“My head hurts.” She whined, not opening her eyes. Anne sighed, she could tell Izzy wasn’t feeling well.

“Would you like me to carry you?” Anna asked, the girl. Izzy gave a small nod before reaching for Cleves, her eyes still shut. She fell asleep in the car on the way home and Anna, not wanting to wake her again, carried her upstairs. It was Kitty who got her changed into her pyjamas, Izzy hadn’t let anyone else see her scars and they didn’t want to risk losing her trust.

Izzy slept fitfully that night. She kicked the blankets off only to start shivering.

“She’s got a fever.” Anne whispered to Kathrine; her hand pressed gently to the girl’s forehead.

“I’ll get Jane.” Kitty jumped out of bed and Anne could hear her running down the hall to Jane’s room. Jane was the most knowledgeable of the group when it came to illness, Anne wondered if it was due to the fact that poor hygiene had played a part in her death.

The others must have heard Kitty running through the house because it wasn’t just Jane who returned.

“She’s been coughing a bit lately.” Aragon said, watching as Jane took the still sleeping girl’s temperature.

“I thought it was just a cold.” Cathy added from where she sat at the foot of the bed.

“Well, she’s definitely got a fever.” Jane sighed as she read the thermometer.

“I’ll book an appointment with the GP.” Cleves volunteered but Jane shook her head.

“It’s two in the morning, Anna. They don’t open till 8, I think we should take her to the hospital. Just to be safe.” Jane was known to get anxious when someone she cared about was ill.

“I’ll wake her up.” Kitty said.

“Shouldn’t we let her sleep?” Aragon asked.

“In theory, yes. But if she wakes up somewhere unfamiliar we’re risking a panic attack, and that on top of whatever she’s got could be dangerous.” Kitty informed them; she was after all the expert when it came to panic attacks. The others agreed to leave the room while she woke Izzy up.

A few minutes later Kitty emerged from the room carrying a semi-conscious Izzy.

The drive to the hospital was quick, Jane had given Anna the keys and told her to go wild. It would have been even faster had Anne been driving but no one was that desperate to crash.

It was quite the sight when six women rushed into A&E, still in their night clothes, with one of them carrying a small girl. Luckily it was a quiet night and it wasn’t long before Izzy was taken to a bed.

“I’m sorry but we only allow two adults to go with the child.” Cathy rolled her eyes at the nurse. It wasn’t his fault but she needed someone to be annoyed at.

“Anne and Kitty should go.” Anna practically pushed the two of them towards the nurse who led them towards Izzy’s room.

“That is so stupid.” Cathy said once the nurse was out of ear shot. She slumped back down into one of the hard plastic seats.

“It’s probably because most kids don’t have six mums.” Aragon sighed, taking the seat beside her goddaughter.

“I’ll have you know that Izzy has three mums, two incredibly cool aunts and the best big sister any kid could wish for.” Anna joked, doing her best to lighten the mood. In reality she was just as worried as the others.

 “I mean, she was coughing and her nose has been a bit runny but we thought she just had a cold or something.” Anne frantically answered the doctor’s questions.

“Look, you’re probably right, but we want to run a few tests just to be safe.” The doctor did her best to reassure Anne, she was used to dealing with concerned parents, but there was obviously more to this than just that.

“Kitty? Annie?” Izzy’s voice was hoarse and she tried to sit up, looking around for her family.

“Shh, I’m right here sweetheart, Annie’s just talking to the doctor alright?” Kitty held Izzy’s hand in hers, her thumb rubbing circles over Izzy’s knuckles. Anne smiled warmly at Izzy before turning back to the woman before her.

“Doctor?” Izzy asked, only just managing to get the word out before succumbing to a coughing fit.

“Yeah, we’re at the hospital. You’re not well but me and Annie are going to stay here until you’re better, alright? We’re not going to leave you alone.” This seemed to calm Izzy a bit and she settled back down on the pillows.

“It hurts.” She whined as she tried to get comfortable.

“What does?” Kitty reached over to brush some hair out of Izzy’s eyes.

“Everything.”

 “The flu?” Jane asked, she could feel the worry building in her chest.

“Yeah.”

“But that means she can come home right? If it’s just the flu?” Cathy asked hopefully.

“They want to keep her in for observation. Apparently she got a weakened immune system and the virus is pretty bad, they don’t want to take any chances.” The group stood in silence for a little while.

“You two staying here?” Aragon asked eventually, Anne nodded.

“Kitty doesn’t want to leave her here alone and quite frankly neither do I.” The others agreed with the decision and reluctantly returned home.

 It took them a while but eventually Anne and Kitty managed to get Izzy to sleep. They were grateful that she hadn’t been hooked up to any machine just yet as that would have made it much harder for them to get into the bed on either side of her. She woke up a few hours later with tears running down her cheeks.

“Shh, hey what’s wrong?” Anne asked, wiping away the tears with her thumb.

“It hurts.” Izzy curled up closer to Anne. Her head resting on Anne’s chest.

“You’ll be alright.”

An hour or so after that the doctor from the previous night returned, this time with some medication. Izzy’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the pills and Anne could feel her shaking.

“No, please. I’m sorry.” Izzy’s breathing grew rapid and shallow, “I’m sorry.” She repeated, the terror in her voice was unmistakable.

“Could you give us a minute?” Kitty asked the doctor who nodded and left the room quickly, “Hey, what’s happening?” Izzy just shook her head.

“Izzy, can you tell us what’s going on? We just want to help you.” Anne tried.

“I’m sorry.” Izzy shut her eyes tight, digging her palms into them, “Please, I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” Anne wasn’t sure if Izzy could hear her at this point. Anne really hoped that her next move would work, “A man came across this old tower one day, it was straight like from a book he once read,” She sang softly, “He lifted his head up and saw this young lady and here’s what the lady said,

‘Moi je m’eappelle mademoiselle Noir,

Et comme vous pouvez le voir,

Je ne souris, ni ri, ni vis,

Et c’est tout ce qu’elle a dit’” Kitty watched as Izzy seemingly relaxed, nuzzling closer to Anne as she sung. Kitty didn’t quite understand why Izzy loved this song so much, something about it gave her the creeps. Perhaps it was the woman dying in a tower while a group of people watched, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that Izzy associated the song with safety and comfort.

“Are you alright?” Anne asked gently once the song came to an end, Izzy just shrugged. “Do you know what upset you?” Izzy nodded but made no indication that she was going to answer.

“Izzy, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but we need to know what happened so that we can find a way to fix it.” Kitty tried and for a minute she thought Izzy wasn’t going to respond.

“Mannox.” Kitty wasn’t exactly surprised that he had something to do with this but it didn’t make her feel any less sick, “He used to… before I went to bed… so I wouldn’t wake up… h-he…” Izzy shook her head, more silent tears making her way down her face.

“The pills.” Kitty said when she realised what Izzy had been referring to, the girl nodded, tightening her hold on Anne.

“Sweetheart, these aren’t those kind of pills, alright? They’re going to help you get better so you can come home.” Anne rubbed her nose against the top of Izzy’s head.

“I-I can’t.”

“How about I go make sure that none of them will make you sleepy, is that alright?” Kitty suggested. Izzy wanted to say no. She wanted to tell Kitty that the very idea of swallowing the pills made her light-headed, but instead she agreed. She agreed to take the pills if they wouldn’t make her drowsy.

 It was a few days before Izzy was discharged and even then she was sent home with a number of pill bottles. She wanted to hide them somewhere, to throw them away, but she knew that this was going to be one of the few things Anne wasn’t going to let her get out of. For the most part the queens were very gentle with Izzy, Anne, Kitty and Cathy in particular, but when it came to things like medicine she knew they would stand firm. She knew they would never do anything to hurt her but whenever she found herself alone she could still hear Mannox’s voice whispering in her ear.

#six #six the musical #six fanfiction #anne boleyn #anna of cleves #kathrine howard #jane seymour #catherine of aragon #Catherine Parr #sick #flu

[squishysvt]

the waves aren’t that bad (my feelings for you are stronger)

Member: Renjun (NCT)

Word Count: 3.7k+

A/N a good old summer au for the soul also i’m fairly sure part of this ended up being like my last jun (svt) au Please don’t @ me i already know lmao -Admin Ay

        Water sprayed on your face as you stood against the rails of the boardwalk. There were a group of children running back and forth behind you with half of their ice cream cones dripping all over their shirts. You liked to sneak away from your home and watch as the boats moved in and out of the harbor.

Living in a lake town was really quiet in the winter. Houses on the shore were empty, the residents floated through the streets boredly, and the occasional dedicated fisherman sat on the docks with their hook in the water. Summer, when the sun obnoxiously beat on everyone’s skin, was when the town was as busy as Times Square. Well, at least you liked to think it was. You had never been.

Very often you would be able to spot the people who were in town for a vacation. They were louder, younger, and brighter amongst the residents who grew tired of seeing the same things every day. In technicality, yes you were also a lifelong resident, but in your heart you were just like the fresh faced tourists that drifted through annually.

“Honey–”

You jolted in your spot at the sound of the voice behind you. Knowing exactly who it was, you winced as you turned around to face your mother.

“Jesus kid, how many times do I have to tell you about being so close to the lake? It isn’t safe!”

Your groaned as your mother yanked you away, her grip paralleled with that of a bear’s. Part of you wanted to whine about how overbearing you mom was being, but you also understood it.

Your dad had died in the water. His boat too small and too far from the shore on such a stormy night. So rather than complaining whenever you were denied permission to go play in the deep water with friends, you would listen and find something to do by yourself.

“Hey, Mom? Could you at least let me go?”

Steps faltering, she did as requested and rubbed her hands on her pants. Your mother cleared her throat before speaking again.

“Go stop by the corner store before coming home, alright? We need more juice and and eggs.”

You sighed and nodded, splitting from your mother. You decided to go ahead and run the errand as you had nothing else to do. A loose rock on the ground kept you entertained throughout your journey as you kicked it, not having to pay much attention to your direction. You knew the town like the back of your hand.

Getting to the shop did not take long, with it being located two blocks away from the boardwalk, just on the edge of the gated residents. It’s where all the rich people lived, or stayed rather, in their large lake houses during vacation. The area was beautiful from what you could decipher whenever you got curious enough to peek through the gates.

As you walked in you saw a boy looking quite exasperated as he dug in his pockets. The cashier, Donghyuck (you were familiar with him, he typically worked the day shift)(he might have also been in your class once? He tended to stay to himself), tapped his foot loudly against the floor.

Finally, the boy huffed and dropped his hands.

“Sorry, I’ll just take the milk then.”

You noticed the pack of gel pens that the boy also had placed on the counter. Donghyuck began to slide the pens away before you stepped in.

“How much are they?”

The boy jumped as you settled next to him. Donghyuck looked at you tiredly.

“10 bucks.”

The boy gasped, eyes wide as he looked at you.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to!”

You smiled, “Don’t worry about it. Its my good deed of the week.”

Donghyuck snorted at the conflicted look on the boy’s face.

“Just take it, man.”

You hummed as you slid a ten dollar bill from your pocket and handed it to Donghyuck.

“I’ll pay you back, I swear.” said the boy.

You rolled your eyes. Then, an idea made way into your head.

“How about you tell me your name and you can help me carry my groceries home?”

“Its Renjun,” the boy said, shy smile stuck on his face as he took his now paid for items and followed you to the produce section.

        You and Renjun fell into a comfortable rhythm as you talked. It wasn’t as if you were conversing about anything profound, just small talk. Unlike most small talk, filled with forced smiles and awkward pauses, it felt like you were catching up to an old friend. You learned that Renjun was only staying the summer with his aunt (she stayed in one of the fenced off lake houses) and that he liked to draw in his free time (hence the neat gel pens he were struggling to buy). Renjun learned that you lived with your mom in a condo above a flower shop (his eyes lit up at the fact).

Time flew, and before the both of you knew it, you were standing right in front of the said flower shop. Renjun began to turn around, but you couldn’t help that you wanted to stay with him longer.

“I guess I’ll just–”

“Uhm, do you want to come inside?”

Even to your own ears you sounded terribly desperate. Despite that, Renjun grinned.

“Sure, I mean,” he frowned, “is that okay? With your mom?”

You nodded, “Don’t worry about it.”

Your mother being fine with Renjun would be an understatement. She was quite charmed with how polite he was. She even had the gall to wink at you (very conspicuously, may you add) when you recounted the events that led to you becoming friends.

Your mother giggled at one of Renjun’s stories about his friends back at his home town. Then, she shot up at the sound of her phone alarm dinging.

“Ah, I have to pull my lasagna out the oven.” she scurried into the kitchen area.

Renjun leaned towards you, making eye contact. He mouthed the words “I love your mom,” causing you to snicker. Your mother placed the lasagna on the kitchen island and started decorating the countertop with other food items.

“Hey, sweetie, ask Renjun if he wants to stay for dinner!”

You rolled your eyes, as if Renjun couldn’t hear her.

Said boy glanced out the window and gasped. The sun was starting to set on the horizon. You caught on and placed a reassuring hand on Renjun’s shoulder.

“Actually, Mom, I don’t think he can. He was probably supposed to bring his milk home a long time ago.”

Renjun gasped again, “I totally forgot about the milk.”

Your mother laughed at that.

“That’s fine! I’d love to have you over another night, though.”

You looked at Renjun hopefully, and he smiled back at you.

“Of course, thank you for having me over!”

You stood up, making your way towards the door, “I’ll walk you out.”

You watched as Renjun gathered his things and shuffled your way. Once out of the building you both could hear your mother yelling from out the window.

“Come by whenever you want, young man!”

Your mother’s enthusiasm cracked him up, and the sound made you feel giddy. When he finally calmed down, Renjun cleared his throat and started rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. You tapped your foot, trying to think of something to say.

“If you don’t have anything to do, you can come over tomorrow and hang around the shop.” You said, ending more on a question.

“Definitely.” Renjun said.

You didn’t notice the tightness in your chest until it was gone. With that, Renjun waved and finally left. He vanished around a street corner, and the remnants of his shadow followed.

        The next day, you were awoken by the sound of your phone dinging. You groaned and grabbed for the device. The screen said that it was five past noon, which caused you to groan again. Getting your sleep schedule back in check will be a pain.

Still sleepy, it took you a second to find out what was the cause of the noise that woke you up. It was Renjun, causing your eyes to open a little wider. He had sent a string of nervous messages; they asked when he should come over and apologized if he had woken you up. You chuckled before a yawn overcame you. So he was an early riser? For some reason that didn’t surprise you.

Eventually, you managed to get dressed and come down stairs into the flower shop. You jump as the first thing you see is Renjun tripping through the door, your mother rearing behind him.

“Look who I found out and about!” She chirped.

You rolled your eyes, unable to help the goofy smile growing on your face. Renjun walked towards you hand held up, and you appropriately responded to the gesture by high-fiving him.

“Sorry I didn’t text back, I just woke up a few minutes ago.” You had the sense to look embarrassed

Renjun shook his head, jabbing a thumb towards your mother’s direction, “Its cool, your mom told me all about it.”

By now your mother had snuck into the store’s back room, most likely to continue putting together a few bouquet orders. The sounds of foliage could be heard and you knew that was precisely what she was doing.

You made your way behind the cashier counter, putting on a beige apron with the words “Le Jardin d’Eden” scrawled on the front in blue. Renjun was glancing around the store; he seemed especially entranced by the orchids in the far corner. You pulled a stool next to you behind the counter and patted it loud enough to get Renjun’s attention. He got the message and sat next to you.

“So, what were you up to so early in the morning?”

“I guess you consider 9am early in the morning,” Renjun chuckled, “I wasn’t doing much. Just planning a few pieces for my portfolio.”

You parroted the word “portfolio” in curiosity.

Renjun cleared his throat and looked at his hands. “Yeah, I’m trying out for an arts school.”

“That’s so cool,” you nudged Renjun, causing him to look back up to you, “You should totally show me what you have so far.”

He smiled and let out a breath, “Totally.”

Then, a customer walked into the store accompanied by the bells on the door jingling. You got up to help, and when you finished with him a new customer walked in, and another. It seemed like a busy day, which was a bummer. You wanted to spend all your attention on Renjun. Every time you glimpsed at him he was drawing a new flower in the sketchbook that he, from what you know, conjured out of nowhere. Sometimes you met eyes with him and his mouth twitched at the corners. Attempts at smiles while his mind was concentrated on his art. He looked like a painting himself, but you blushed at the thought and continued to work.

        You fell against the door after turning the “open” sign to say “closed,” officially ending the working day. Your mother started sweeping the floors and Renjun disappeared into the back room a while ago to do something for her. He said he felt bad for doing nothing while you and your mother worked. You began to pick up cleaning supplies yourself until your mother waved her hand.

“Ah, no. Go accompany your friend, I got this.”

You rolled your eyes at your mother’s antics but internally thanked her as you approached Renjun in the back room. He was trying, and failing, to wrap a bow around a basket. He whispered what you could only guess to be swears under his breath as the bow turned out crooked.

“Do you want me to help?” You grinned at the way Renjun’s arms fell like weights to his sides.

Renjun let out a groan before answering in a whine, “Yes, please.”

You moved in front of the basket and untied the ribbon. Renjun leaned towards you to get a better view of your hands. You tried your best to ignore the way his breath was warm as it hit you. While walking Renjun through the steps it was hard to will the shake out of your voice, but you managed.

After what felt like forever, you finished tying the bow. Renjun’s brows furrowed, and for a second you thought you actually did worse than you thought until he spoke again.

“How did you manage to do that so easily?”

You laughed and shook your head.

“I said almost the same thing when my mom taught me. It just takes a couple of times until you get the feel for it.”

Renjun smiled, “I’m definitely gonna impress you with a cool bow next time I see you.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

There was a lull in the conversation, but neither of you minded. You looked over Renjun’s shoulder as he worked in his sketchbook. He had a page full of flowers that were on display in Jardin d’Eden. Everything looked perfect to you, but Renjun would grunt and fill in another part of a large hydrangea in the corner of the paper.

        That’s how you spent the next weeks. Renjun would come to the shop and distract you while you worked. At least not deliberately. You just couldn’t help your eyes from drifting to him and whatever he did. Most times he’d be drawing, but sometimes he’d also be engaged in conversation with a customer or your mom.

Finally, Renjun took you to meet his aunt. She was just as friendly as Renjun when she spoke, but was otherwise distant as she left you and Renjun to your own devices. You both would often spend time together on the balcony of her house looking over the lake when you weren’t working.

Sometimes Renjun’s friends would video call while you were with him. They were all very friendly (and loud) and would make sure to explain inside jokes to you. Especially if they were at the cost of Renjun’s embarrassment. Often you would find yourself crouched on the floor, holding your stomach from the laughter. Jeno and Jaemin, you had noticed, were the ones most often poking fun at him.

One day, Jeno popped on screen, interrupting the deep conversation you were having with Jaemin about snacks.

“Injunnie! Have you taken (Y/N) onto the boat yet?” Jeno’s eyes blinked into the camera, them being the only part of his body you could see.

Renjun coughed, face flushing as he shook his head.

“Uh, no. Not at all. Completely forgot auntie had it, actually.”

Another of Renjun’s friends, Chenle, shoved Jeno out of the way to be seen.

“What do you mean ‘forgot’? Didn’t you help your aunt repaint it the other day?”

You caught a glimpse of Jaemin behind Chenle, smirking as if he knew something. Renjun was too busy studying the lake to see you tilt your head in question. Then you remembered your mother.

“Its cool if he didn’t,” you shrugged, “My mom probably wouldn’t have let me anyway. She has a thing against the water.”

Renjun seemed to finally snap out of whatever he was thinking, as he whipped back towards you.

“You literally live in a lake town, why would she have anything against you being in a lake?”

You sighed and looked up to the sky. Stars shone, and you remembered one of many nights where you stayed out and tried to ignore your mother’s crying.

“You know how my dad was a fisherman? He died when I was little, drowned during a storm. My mom hasn’t let me swim in the lake or get on a boat since.”

Your father’s absence wasn’t something you felt often. You could barely remember him. More than anything, your disconnect to the incident was what bothered you the most. You swallowed down the weird feeling that you got from it and looked back down to Renjun. He wasn’t saying anything, but you could tell what he was thinking from the downturn of his lip and the hurt in his eyes.

“We’re sorry.” Jeno whispered, him along with Chenle and Jaemin mirroring the same look.

You smiled, “Don’t worry about it. If I’m honest, I’ve been wanting to rebel just a little and swim in the lake or something. I can’t remember the last time I did.”

“Then why don’t I take you?” Renjun blurted, then blushed. His eyes flickered to the side towards his phone screen before he looked back at you.

He took a deep breath and started again, “Why don’t I take you on my aunt’s boat?”

Jaemin leaned into the screen and somehow managed to whisper loudly as he spoke, “Sneak out when your mom’s asleep and can’t wonder where you are.”

The rest of the boys in the call grew mischievous smiles on their faces. You gulped.

“I mean, I’ve never–”  

“Of course you’ve never snuck out,” Chenle rolled his eyes and you held back the desire to frown, “There’s nothing to do there. You probably never wanted to.”

You finally did frown. You heard a smack from the phone and Chenle rocketed out of frame with a hiss.

Jeno looked at you apologetically, “Don’t take what Lele says seriously. We sneak out all the time to do stuff together, Renjun would too. You’re just a good kid.”

From there the conversation branched off. Renjun told you a story of how Jeno once actually stole candy from a baby. Everyone laughed, void for Jeno, who buried his face into Jaemin’s shoulder. Then your mother called, and it was time for you to leave.

Renjun walked you home. His hands fidgeted with the loops of his jeans the entire time. His nervous energy made you nervous. Before you knew it your home and the shop were in sight and you and Renjun hadn’t said a word to each other. That was, before Renjun cleared his throat, causing you to jump.

“You know, I wasn’t joking.”

You tilted your head, confused about what he was referring to.

“I mean, about taking you out on the boat. If–” he looked to the ground, “If you wanted.”

You tried to bite down the goofy grin you knew was trying to inch across your face. You lightly stepped on Renjun’s foot to make him look up at you.

“Honestly, I totally do.”

You didn’t realize Renjun’s hands were still moving until they stopped.

Renjun let out a breath, “Yeah?” his voice soft.

“Yeah,” you matched his softness, “I haven’t had my life-changing summer adventure yet.”

Renjun snorted as you turned to walk into the building. You’d deny the skip in your step as you made your way to your room.

        “Are you sure this is fine?” You couldn’t help from wringing your hands as you followed Renjun on the small path through the trees.

Renjun chuckled before turning around to you. It was hard to ignore how the lights of the fireflies twinkled in his eyes and the moonlight rested on his skin.

“I promise its fine,” he held his hand out to you, “to make you feel better.”

You had only known this boy for a few weeks, but all rationale initially flew through the window when you decided to sneak out in the middle of the night for the first time. So, you nodded and grabbed his hand as he lead you towards the dock. It didn’t take much time before you reached it. The water was placid and the only things that seemed to disturb its surface were the water striders gliding across and the occasional fish.

There alongside the dock, a sailboat bobbed in the water.

“This is your aunt’s?” you said.

Renjun only nodded at you before looking back at the boat. You stared at it as well. It was pretty, painted in a coral color with blue cursive letters on its side. You squinted to try and read what they said. Renjun kicked at a nearby rock and tugged on his hair.

“The Moomin,” he coughed, “My aunt, uh, she had me name it when I was little.”

You couldn’t help the teasing smile on your face, “That’s precious.”

“Please shut up before I push you into this water.”

Renjun continued grumbling under his breath, and the chokes resulting from holding back your laughter almost caused you to fall in all by yourself.

Renjun climbed into the boat first. You followed, easing your way on with Renjun’s help. The boat rocked from the movement of you both sitting down. You tensed, and both your hands shot out to stabilize yourself. Renjun sat right across from you. He touched his ankle to yours, and you eased. Your mouth still twitched in displeasure, for some reason he felt too far away.

The boat eventually stopped rocking, but your stomach still felt tingly. Renjun eyed you worriedly as you tugged at your hair. You couldn’t get your eyes to stop jumping from one thing to the other.

Renjun stood slowly and moved to sit next to you. Your breath hitched as the boat rocked again.

You shot Renjun an anxious glance, “Aren’t we supposed to be on opposite sides? Isn’t it dangerous?”

Renjun smiled, and suddenly it wasn’t so hard to breath.

“Its fine,” he took your hand in his, “Are you okay?”

You sighed and squeezed Renjun’s hand. He squeezed back.

“I’m going to be. I think.”

Renjun doesn’t speak after that. You look up at the sky and see the full moon shining bright. All the noises you hear are crickets and Renjun’s breathing beside you.

The warmth from Renjun’s hand spreads up your arms. Your stomach still feels tingly, but its different, and the thought that you could stay on the boat forever crosses your mind.

“Renjun?”

“Yeah?”

The words don’t make it out of your mouth but Renjun seemed to already know what you wanted to say, his lips pressed against yours.

Your eyes were shut, but you could still see Renjun in your head. Radiant, soft, like you were kissing the moon. You dreaded the sun rising again.

#huang renjun #renjun #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct aus #nct imagines #nct fanfic #renjun imagines #renjun aus #renjun drabbles #renjun scenarios #admin ay

[insomniacandtired]

Headcanons #2

Can you do another Irene/Seulgi/Joohyun?The first one was a banger, bro.👌

First of all, Irene and Joohyun love taking care of their princess

Anything she needs, she gets

Seulgi is the most spoiled princess ever

Or at least she would be, if she wasn’t who she was

All Seulgi cares about is making sure she was a good girl, and that her mommies never had a reason to punish her

They found reasons anyways, just so they could have fun with their baby

Seulgi’s only flaw is that she thinks too much about being a good girl, to the point where she ends up misbehaving

The twins feel really bad about it sometimes, since they’re both kinda scatterbrained

If they end up forgetting something, Seulgi automatically blames it on herself, and it takes a long time for Irene and Joohyun to convince her she didn’t do anything wrong

Would you please write an exid smut with dom!solji? Preferably lesol but you can choose the pairing if that doesnt work. Thank you!

Solji isn’t the kind of dom most would think her to be

With her mostly happy disposition, you’d think she was either a harsh sadist or not a dom at all

Instead, she’s the kind of dom that can make you feel guilty as hell about misbehaving with nothing but a look

LE’s the kind of person that isn’t normally a sub

Hell, she’s not even a switch

But when she’s with Solji, she can’t be anything else

She surrenders to Solji in an instant, laying back and letting her have her way

When Solji isn’t there, LE is the badass rapper we all know and love, but the moment Solji steps into the room, she transforms into a whiny lapdog

Behind closed doors, Solji likes to take LE and tie her to the bed, teasing her for hours before she finally takes mercy

By the end of it all LE’s whining and whimpering and can’t even remember her own name

As an experiment, Solji slips a collar around LE’s throat one time, and realizes LE likes it a lot more than she thought she would when she comes explosively with a scream

After that it’s hard to find LE without her collar on, even when Solji isn’t there

can i request sugarmommy!jihyo and babygirl!dahyun, please?

Jihyo owns the office building Dahyun interns at, and for a while, that was all there was between them

One day Dahyun is informed that her rent is going up, and when that was added to her student loans and the debt her father left her with, she realized there was no way she’d be able to afford enough food to stay alive

Swallowing her pride, she goes to the CEO in her best clothes with a resume and cover letter and begs for a job

Jihyo informs her that there aren’t any positions open, and Dahyun almost cries, before something she’d only ever read about pops into her mind, and she realizes it might be the answer to her problems

She’s already at rock bottom, she had nothing to lose

Proposing the idea to Jihyo, she’s surprised that the CEO accepts

At first Jihyo doesn’t ask for much besides her company, but Dahyun realizes the amount she receives is affected by how far they go

She still has some pride, so she doesn’t go further than kissing for a long time

When she and Jihyo finally grow closer, she decides that it’s not about the money anymore, and let’s Jihyo have her way with her

She cries when her ‘allowance’ goes up, convincing herself that Jihyo is only interested in her because she’s paying Dahyun for sex

It’s only when she calls herself a prostitute in Jihyo’s presence that the mistake gets addressed

Their relationship changes, but the biggest difference is Jihyo’s title changing from Sugar Mommy to girlfriend

hi, hope your days going well! can I request some nsfw viseul? love your page!

First of all, despite what it seems like, Vivi is definitely the “mother” of that relationship

She does her best to look after Haseul and provide for her, being the most supportive girlfriend ever

Most of the time they're soft as hell for each other, but every once in a while, Haseul decides she wants to be a bit bratty that day

And things get steamy

As supportive as Vivi is, she's just as strict

She does not approve of any rule breaking, even if it's just playful, and will always punish Haseul the moment she steps out of line

Haseul has long since figured out she's a low-key masochist, so the punishments aren't much of a deterrent

Vivi's favorite method is good ole fashioned spanking, but she occasionally strays to more exotic forms

Haseul is a big fan of shibari, even with the denial that goes along with it

Vivi was surprisingly into cockwarming

The sight of Haseul squirming on her lap, the long strap on nearly fully sheathed inside her, was almost too much to bear

Since we’re talking about girls being called daddy here, would it be okay to ask for Daddy!Seulgi and Babygirl!Yeri? Maybe something about Yeri cockwarming Daddy!Seulgi’s strap and being all super cute and whiny about it?

could you please write mommy!irene and daddy!seulgi with babygirl!wendy

i really, really love your works omg... maybe can i request a yermseul one? these two have been so close lately and we know the biggest crush yeri have on seulgi. So maybe a jealous!seulgi x yeri???

hello! do you have any yerene headcanons?? could you please say some of them please?

I can see a lot of you are on the same train of thought. I've decided to combine these asks, since they're pretty similar. Mommy Irene, Daddy Seulgi, babygirls Wendy and Yeri. I'm not sure where Joy would fit in. Maybe Yeri and Wendy's friend that Irene and Seulgi want to bring into their dynamic? Anyone has any thoughts, let me know, alright? So in this au, Seulgi and Irene are married. They seduced Yeri, an intern at Seulgi's firm. Yeri moved in with them and became their babygirl, never having to worry about a thing besides her schooling. Eventually she learned that her best friend, Wendy, was going through some financial troubles and persuaded Irene and Seulgi into letting her join them.

Yeri's been spending too much time with Irene lately, and not enough with her

At least, that's what Seulgi thinks

She watches as her lovely wife dances around the kitchen, tickling Wendy and peppering Yeri's face with kisses

It was a scene that she loved to come home to, their happy laughter washing away her stress and calming her down

That doesn't stop the dark pit of jealousy in her

She knew she was jealous, and she knew she really had nothing to worry about, but she couldn't stop herself from doing something about it

That evening, while she worked on the dishes with her baby, she set her plan to work

Unzipping her trousers, she pulled out the strap she had hidden and slipped it up the back of Yeri's skirt

Yeri froze, glancing over her shoulder and whimpering at the sight of Seulgi's scowl

Without a word, she slipped Yeri's panties to the side and sank into her, burying the strap in her lithe body

Yeri sighs out a weak “daddy…” as it enters her, but quickly realizes Seulgi's plan when she doesn't start to move

She whimpers, making Seulgi chuckle

“Such a good little slut, taking daddy so well. No moving, baby, I want you to feel me.”

She makes Yeri continue with the dishes, whispering filth in her ears the whole while, rubbing her sides and nibbling at her neck

Yeri can barely stand, but she keeps going, unwilling to be punished

By the time she finishes, Yeri's bent over the counter, desperately trying not to come

Seulgi, pulls out and turns to leave, just to be an ass, only to see Irene sitting at the table with Wendy in her lap, gently making their other baby come on her fingers

She has a dangerous look in her eye as she stares at Seulgi challengingly

“Don't let us stop you. Weren't you just about to finish?”

Seulgi grumbles, her plan ruined, but follows her wife's order, kneeling on the tile and hiking Yeri's skirt up to her hips

Yeri is squirming on her tongue in an instant, gasping for air as Seulgi pulls out every trick she knows

Irene watches smugly, kissing all over Wendy's face and neck

Wendy is trembling, but she lets Irene do as she pleases, too trusting to put up even the smallest bit of resistance

Irene cherishes that trust, doing her absolute best to make sure that all her girls are taken care of and happy, satisfying herself with their comfort

They manage to make Yeri and Wendy come at the same time, their babies collapsing bonelessly in the wake

They bring them to the master bedroom, the bed tere large enough to easily contain them all

They fall asleep together, content in the presence of their loves

hey, u write for momoland?

I do, as long as it doesn't involve Nancy.

Can you make a mihyo story for me? They're my favorite ship in twice. ^^

Jihyo was tired

It had been a long day at work, her boss yelling at her a total of five times (a new record)

All she wanted was to sleep

Instead, as she opened the door to her apartment she noticed an extra pair of shoes on the mat, shoes that she knew very well, considering she had bought them

Her bad mood vanished instantly, replaced with excitement as she rushed into the kitchen

Her girlfriend was there, dancing like a feather as she sang along with the radio

She paused in front of the stove, and Jihyo sighed happily at the sight of Mina's happy smile

Mina heard her, twirling over to her to wrap her arms around Jihyo's neck and plant a soft kiss on her lips, both of them smiling too much to kiss properly

“I thought you were in Japan, how are you here?”

Mina reveals that she managed to finish up a few days early and came back to surprise Jihyo

They eat cuddled up close, neither having room to use their utensils properly, but neither particularly cared, content in being close after a week of being apart

After finishing up and cleaning the dishes, they go to bed

They're both exhausted, but neither can fall asleep, letting out sleepy giggles and giving each other little kisses

“You have no idea how much I needed this today. I love you so much, baby…”

Mina chuckles, her eyes fluttering closed

“Mmm...love you too…”

can we get a teacher! momo and student! dahyun au/fic with subby dahyun): she baby

It's Dahyun's first year in university

She's nervous, she doesn't know anyone, she's away from home

It makes sense that she'd latch on to the pretty dance professor that's so nice to her

Even when she starts to make friends and go out more, she'll always choose Momo over any other plans, obviously infatuated

Despite what people say, Momo isn't stupid, nor does she take unnecessary risks

She explains to Dahyun that nothing can happen between them, since she's a student

Dahyun agrees, but doesn't change, continuing to prioritize Momo

When she finally graduates, she asks Momo out - impressed by her dedication, Momo agrees

Unsurprisingly, Dahyun likes to role play

Specifically, professor and naughty student

Momo isn't as into it, mostly just going along with it to make Dahyun happy, but she still has fun

Dahyun loves it when Momo brings her to functions

She likes to hang off Momo's arm, showing herself off as Momo's pretty little plaything

She's quite smart, but she likes to pretend to be vapid eye candy

Mommy!Yves taking care of sick Baby!Chuu? Super fluffy please?

Jiwoo doesn't get sick often, which is good, because when she does she can't really do anything for herself, she she really doesn't want to scare off Sooyoung

Sooyoung is always composed and serious, and Jiwoo is always trying to make herself more mature so Sooyoung doesn't get annoyed with her, so seeing her the way she gets when she's sick would probably make her break up with her

Unfortunately, she got sick

Even worse, it was a day that Sooyoung was supposed to come over to help her with her coursework, and Jiwoo had completely forgotten about it

Sooyoung let herself in with the key Jiwoo had given her

She found Jiwoo wrapped up in a blanket, sniffling, staring at her water bottle

Jiwoo is unresponsive until Sooyoung confusedly hands her her drink, brow furrowed as Jiwoo perks up immediately

Sooyoung puts on cartoons for her, doing her best to help her with everything she needs as she tries to figure out what's going on

She only finds out when Jiwoo tells her the next day

To Jiwoo's surprise, Sooyoung doesn't leave

She enjoyed taking care of Jiwoo, and didn't find Jiwoo's regression all that weird

After that, Jiwoo starts to be herself more, and finds that Sooyoung is actually a lot warmer to her when she's acting less mature

She liked to take care of Jiwoo, and since Jiwoo liked to be taken care of, it works out perfectly

im still thinking about seolbo relationship in pretty girl  more seolbo plz

Seola is the strictest dom ever

It's rare for her to be lax about anything, but when she is, Bona takes advantage of it immediately

She likes to tease Seola, which almost always leads to her being bent over and punished, wherever they are

Despite that, Seola takes care of her girl

Whenever Bona feels down, Seola is always there to cheer her up and make her feel better

Bona can never hide when she's feeling down, not from Seola

She knows her too well

Instead of trying to hide it anymore, she just goes to Seola, quietly sidling up to her in the middle of whatever she's doing and pressing her head against her, waiting patiently for Seola to finish up and pull her into her arms

They never have any of those sugary sweet moments that so many other couple have, but they don't need to

They know they love each other, and they're quietly content with that

hi! i love your headcanons and writing. if you’re okay with it and/or ever have time, would sunmi/yves be something you’d consider writing for?

Sunmi and Yves are rival CEOs for modelling company, constantly battling for photo shoots and cfs

Whenever they're seen in public together, they're either glaring at each other or passive aggressively bragging and trying to one up each other

In private, however…

Up against walls, against windows, over counters, over the back of the couch, against the door, even in the middle of the floor

They're constantly doing their best to wreck the other, fucking each other into next week

Neither of them bottoms or tops, instead turning it into a battle to see who can make the other beg

Eventually, it becomes normal to wake up next to each other, make each other breakfast, even start to find themselves thinking about each other

It takes them a long time to realize they don't actually hate each other

#red velvet #exid #twice #loona #momoland #wjsn #sunmi #smut #fluff

[slipstreamborne]

Clearer with Distance (2014 fic)

rating: G summary:  Donatello is almost eight before they finally find a pair of glasses with his correct prescription.  Before that, the severely farsighted turtle just has to make do.  His brothers do what they can to help out, even if it means reading all his boring stereo instructions to him for the millionth time. notes: 2k fluffy turtle tot fic with just a touch of angst. read at ao3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/15006035

The box is slick underneath Donnie’s fingers, glossy cardboard unwarped by water, the corners crisp and unworn.  New, or at least freshly thrown out, which for a mutated turtle scavenging the sewers of New York is basically the same thing.

His chest swells with excitement, expert fingers feeling at the seams until he finds the  opening flap.  The box is bulky but light—a promising combination—and rattles faintly when shaken.  Definitely some twist ties loose in there.  He gropes greedily inside, worming his skinny arm in between the broken pieces of protective Styrofoam until his fist closes on his prize: a thin paper booklet with staples along the binding.

“Oh no,” groans Mikey, somewhere off to his left.  “He found another one.”

“Not it,” says Raph automatically; a mistake, because he’s close enough that Donnie can pinpoint him by sound even if he has trouble picking his blurred form out from the rest of the garbage heap. 

“Raph!”  He thrusts the little pamphlet towards what he guesses is his brother’s nose.  “What’s this say?”

Shadows of hands shove him back, not hard enough to knock him over, though.  “I dunno, genius.  It’s dark.”

“Not that dark.”  A greasy yellow glow fills the far end of the tunnel, casting crisp shadows against the brick.  The light’s softer here, the edges of things increasingly smeared the closer he gets to them, but it’s bright enough that Donnie barely has to use his flashlight.  It’s easier for him to spot the gleam of a potentially interesting object than sort through every washed up boot and rusted can by hand.  Safer, too, as the still-thumping cut bisecting his left palm can attest.  At least it’s finally crusted over and stopped oozing.  “C’mon, read it for me.”

“I ain’t gonna!”

“Read it read it read it read it—”

“Hush.” 

Dad doesn’t shout.  Dad hardly ever has to shout, and never twice.  Not so close to topside, anyway.  Donnie’s mouth clamps shut obediently.

“This is not the place.  Raphael will read to you when we get home, Donatello.”

Raph whines (“Daaaad, I read the last one!”), but his father holds firm, setting him back to the day’s scavenging with a single clipped command.  Reassured that he’s not the one to have been assigned to the task, the soft, mostly-blue shape of Leo finally pops into view, a smear of white slashing crookedly across where his mouth should be.

“Over here,” he says, taking Donnie by the hand (something Donnie hates, but on unfamiliar territory has no grounds to object to).  “Found a bunch of onions.  Help me  pick out the rotten ones.”

*

Everybody has their place within the family.  If you  need somebody to boost you into a high pipe or check in the shadows for monsters (Raph says that the towering white figures from his dreams with needles for fingers aren’t real, but Donnie’s not so sure), you get Dad.  If you need somebody to tell you all the rules for Yu-Gi-Oh or tattle on you when you wander too far into the dark, you get Leo.  Mikey’s great at farting at the dinner table and whining until you feel sorry for him when he loses a game that he made up the rules to, while it’s Raph’s job to not share when you want a turn at shooting baskets and snuggle up tight against you under the blankets when winter blows ice cold through the Lair.

Donnie’s got strong, nimble fingers and can recite long passages of Harry Potter from memory, even does a pretty good job of mimicking the voices that Dad uses, but when Leo finds a coverless copy of The Order of the Phoenix—their one missing title in the series—nobody asks him take over when Dad gets too tired to do another chapter.

It’s not that Donatello doesn’t know how to read.  Dad taught him his alphabet same as his brothers, one warm hand at his elbow as he guided Donnie’s finger through the thick, ever-gathering dust of the fan room floor, tracing out the shape of each letter over and over until Donnie had every stroke memorized. 

If he writes large enough, going back over each word twice with the long side of their few precious pieces of grubby sidewalk chalk until the pastel lines stand out bold against the dark concrete floors, Donnie can make out whole words.  Kanji is harder, crucial, tiny strokes lost amidst the overall shape of the character, but Dad has a long scroll of poetry in oversized calligraphy hanging above his sleeping mat that Donnie has had memorized since he was three:

A lovely thing to see: through the paper window's hole, the Galaxy.

For reasons he can’t yet explain, he has no trouble at all reading the oversized text of the bulletin boards he occasionally glimpses through narrow storm drains, hungry eyes devouring every line of copy even if he lacks the context needed to appreciate the appeal of things like “semi-annual sales” and “now in theaters”. 

He has never seen a star, much less a galaxy, but after some careful questioning, he doesn’t think Leo or Raph or Mikey have seen one, either. 

The bigger something is, the further it is away, the easier it is for Donnie to understand. 

The problem is that the things that interest him, that confound him and make him burn for more, are close and very, very small. 

He gets so frustrated.  So angry.  It’s there, it’s right there, but he can’t—

“Please.”  He shoves the stack of books into his brother’s hands.  “Please please pleeeeease...!”

“Fine,” Leo sighs, even though they both know that technically, it’s Raph’s turn again.  “Fine.”

There’s an old beanbag chair that Dad sewed up that’s almost big enough for two.  Leo tucks his feet under him primly while Donnie wedges himself firmly against his side, long legs braced against a crack in the concrete to keep them from toppling over. 

“I’m not reading you Advanced Wiring again, I know you’ve got that one memorized.”  He tosses the battered book to the side with a thump.  “So which’ll it be?  Heating and Plumbing or Decks, Porches, and Patios?”

“Decks.”  The meager collection of Time Life Home Repair and Improvement books is one of his most prized possessions.  Heating and Plumbing is his second favorite, but Leo’s terrible at describing all of the diagrams.  “The part about load-bearing footings.” 

The book smells comfortingly of mildew when Leo cracks it open.  He’s smaller than Donnie by almost half a foot, his head wobbling precariously on a neck barely bigger than Raph’s wrist, but he has a nice voice, smooth and even with an extra puff of breath behind the t sounds that Donnie finds himself echoing for hours afterwards. 

“Where do you want me to start?  Concrete forms or how to determine the frost line?”

“Doesn’t matter.”  He hasn’t told Leo that he’s actually memorized that one, too.  All of them, to be honest.  It’s just that sometimes he needs something, anything, to help his brain go quiet.  “Frost lines.”

Leo flips to the appropriate page, squirms until his shell is nestled more comfortably in the folds of the beanbag, and starts to read.  Donnie digs his sharp chin into the hollow of his brother’s shoulder, closes his eyes, and listens.

*

Mikey is the best at it, despite being the least interested in schoolwork of any of them.  Maybe it’s because of his blasé acceptance of his own academic shortcomings.  Where Leo huffs and repeats things over and over, trying to get it perfect, and Raph storms off with a growl at the first barrier he can’t punch his way through, Mikey plunges right along unrattled no how many bumps he hits, accepting any corrections to his pronunciation with a casual shrug. 

Even when the manual turns out to be written in French. 

“En-lev-ez le...’  The heck is this word, bro?  One of the letters is wearing a hat. ‘Buh... Booty-er?’”

“Spell it if you can’t sound it out.”

“B-O-I with a pointed hat-T-I-E-R.”

Donnie frowns, fingers retracing his steps across the condensation pump, trying to figure out which piece is most likely supposed to come off next.  “I think that’s the cover for the fan.”  He gives the fan enclosure an experimental pull, then a twist, then a harder, more determined pull, but it doesn���t budge.  He runs his fingers around its rim, looking for the telltale round bump of a screwheads, but finds nothing.   “Uh, is there a tab I’m supposed to press to make it pop off or...?”

“Maybe?”  A rustle of paper as Mikey folds the directions back to look at the diagram.  “Are you sure these are the right instructions for this pump?  It doesn’t quite look like the drawing.  That fan cover piece is a completely different shape.”

Donnie’s stomach does an anxious somersault.  And he’d been so excited to find something thrown away in its original box.  “I mean, a pump’s a pump, right?  How different can they be?”

Half an hour later, Donnie’s managed to remove the fan cover, but not without a sickening crack of plastic and a muffled swear from his brother that tells him he broke something.  Hopefully it wasn’t anything crucial.  He’ll have to run some tests after he’s finished cleaning it and putting it back together, but since the pump wasn’t working in the first place it will be hard to— 

The main hatch creeks open, then closed again.  “Tadaima!” call two voices.  Leo’s voice cracks on the last syllable, and Dad sounds tired, but pleased.

“Okaeri!” Donnie and Mikey call together, Raph chiming in faintly from the other side of the Lair.  Donnie sniffs the air.  Beneath the gust of sewer smell is the unmistakable odor of wet fur and back alley dumpster he’s come to associate with food. 

He puts down the tools to help Dad and Leo bring in the last of the groceries—bags and bags of iceberg lettuce with browned outer leaves (his mouth waters, knowing the cool, wet crunch awaiting inside), and a box of short pull tab cans that could be either tuna or cat food.  Mikey makes a pleased little chirrup as he passes him the cans, which means it’s probably the latter.  Fancy Feast is his favorite.    

The chore is quickly finished with five sets of hands.  Leo keeps bumping into him, thin limbs still quivering with the excitement of getting to go topside.  Donnie tucks his own arms close and starts edging out of the kitchen and back towards his corner of dissembled stereos, suddenly not a excited about the prospect of lettuce heart supper.  He’s never been above ground.  It’s too dangerous with his limited eyesight. 

“Ah, Donatello.  A moment more, my son.  I have a gift for you.”

A large, grey-brown shape crouches before him and presses a closed cardboard box into his hands.  Too large for a clock radio, too small to be a VHS player, but mostly empty either way. 

“You got Donnie an iron?!” asks Mikey incredulously, crowding close on his left. 

Raph huffs dismissively, but presses in close to his right.  “It’s just the box, dummy.” 

“Go on,” Leo says, fidgeting anxiously from one foot to another.  He’s too close for Donnie to make out his expression, but his tone suggests that there’s a surprise that he’s in on, or maybe some sort of joke.  “Open it.”

Something heavier than an owner’s manual is rattling around inside. Batteries, maybe, or an overlooked set of cables.  Dad couldn’t have been lucky enough to find him a discarded remote.

His family looms over him expectantly as he opens the box and reaches inside.  The shape of the object is bizarre:  two thick, curved circles, each attached to a long, hinged piece of plastic.

Glasses.  His heart sinks.  He’s lost track of how many pairs he’s tried, over the years.  His thumbs swipe idly across the lenses, noting with dull surprise how thick they are, the pronounced outward curve at their center. 

“Try ‘em on!” Leo grabs at his wrists, pushing the glasses up towards his face.  “Try ‘em, try ‘em!”

There’s a break in the bridge of the nose, he realizes as he unfolds them.  Somebody’s tried to fix them with tape but not done a very good job of it.  The glasses bend alarmingly as he slips them over his beak, one lens slipping down his cheek as he struggles to hold the other in place.  He looks up. 

The world looks very, very strange.  On his left, Mikey’s familiar smudged shadows.  On his right, a stranger in a red bandana peers at him through narrowed eyes, each pale green scale of his face glimmering  faintly gold under the bare kitchen light bulb.  In front of him, two more strangers, one skinny and green, fading back and forth into Leo's blurred shape as he bounces excitedly, the other tall and dark and covered in a thousand, million lines, each strand of drying fur casting its own shadow, blue robe speckled with tiny white and yellow stars, the pointed, black-eyed face haloed in a bristle of long, white whiskers.   

He gapes, speechless.

For the first time in his life, Donatello sees his father smile.

#tmnt #tmnt 2014 #donatello #splinter #michelangelo #raphael #leonardo #stuff i wrote #turtle tots

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

DOTW - 24... there's some sexy bits... but I don't know if I'm happy to leave it there

Coming off of work, Levi eyed the clock with a yawn. It was a little after 7. The perfect time to get things done. Well, one thing. Retrieving Eren's things from Marco and Jean's house. He might be over stepping, but seeing Eren so broken hearted wouldn't leave his mind. Also, he was hoping Jean had a black eye, the horsefaced arsehole certainly deserved it. Walking up to the front door, Levi may have knocked slightly harder than socially polite. A small wave of pleasure rose up when he saw how exhausted the alpha was when opened the door, unfortunately he wasn't sporting a black eye... "What the fuck do you want?" Such nice manners so early in the morning. His alpha was itching to teach Jean his place. To make him thoroughly suffer... but... responsible adulting had to come first "I'm here to collect Eren's things" "Oh. What? Fine. Wait here" Keeping his temper until Jean came back with Eren's bag, he took it from Jean. Jean immediately trying to shut the door, which Levi stopped with his foot "That's everything" "No, it really isn't. You and Marco both owe him an apology" "What? Fuck off" "Are you serious? What the fuck does Marco even see in you?" "Listen man, get the fuck off my property" "No. You're going to listen to me. You have absolutely no right treating Eren as you have been. He was here for Marco. He stayed with him, and because of him, your daughter was born happy and healthy" "Because he didn't even bother calling an ambulance" "No. He called me. A fucking paramedic. He called me because he wanted to know how to help Marco! There was a huge car pile-up. Even if he'd called for an ambulance, Marco would have been put on a wait list, because people were fucking dead and dying in the accident. So yes. Eren called me. A trained medical professional. He was with Marco, when he was giving birth, and abusing him for it. Marco is Eren's first friend. He values him. He stayed with him, and then he was worried for Marco when you arrived smelling like another omega. He was worried. Marco had just given birth without you. His emotions were all over the place. How would you have felt if Marco stank like another alpha after being away for days? Even if you had faith in him, you'd still be upset and confused. Eren only wanted what was best for you, your baby and his best friend. You both made him feel like absolute shit" Jean growled, Levi thrusting the verbal knife into the alpha's heart, preparing for the mental kill... because he couldn't actually fucking kill him. Eren had known way too much death in his life "You know he's not right in the head" For fucks sake "Because he's a fucking abuse victim! He's been abused. He saw his brother and mother murdered in front of him! It doesn't matter if you didn't fucking know. You have no right to people like shit, especially not someone who would go out of there way to always to be there for the people they care for. Eren is bright. And happy and he's been through hell and fucking back. So, yes. He's not always ok, but at least he is a better person than you are. Get your fucking shit together and apologise to him. You and Marco" Reaching out, he took the door handle as he moved his foot out the way, slamming the door shut in his own face, but also in Jean's. Eren wouldn't be happy he'd talked to Jean about it. In fact, he'd probably be pissed. But fuck it. His boyfriend deserved an apology. Stopping by the shops on the way home, he picked up a few different pastries and flowers for Eren. He was not a flower person. He'd never ever bought flowers for anyone at all. Ever. He and Eren had made breakfast? together, then he'd had to leave for work. He'd wished he could have stayed. He'd left Eren unpacking his room, and to deal with his feelings alone. With the drive back, it was 8:30am when he parked in the underground parking. Today was going so smoothly. Grabbing out his phone, he called Eren's counsellor for him. Booking him the first available appointment, which unfortunately was the following week. He knew Eren liked his new counsellor much better than Thomas, and he knew his omega wasn't happy that he hadn't been able to attend the last one. Gathering up the flowers and the pastries, he headed up to their apartment. Titan was at the door to great him as he let himself in quietly. Eren was sleeping on the sofa. Remote still in his hand, while what seemed to be cartoons played softly on TV. His shirt had hiked up, the blanket around his waist, while a smile played on his lips. He looked adorable. Letting his gaze drift down, the start of the smile turned downwards. Eren's ankles free from the blanket, the scars seemed so much more obvious than they'd ever been before. After being by Eren for so long, and hearing his nightmares, he had a fair idea that his boyfriend had been chained up somewhere. Someone had put him in chains and refused to let him go, no matter how much he'd begged them. He hadn't told Eren's his suspicions. He was waiting for Eren to be the one to tell him that. It was obvious he wasn't ready to talk about his past, so until then, he'd keep his mouth shut over it, and support Eren the best he could. Turning the TV off and covering Eren back up with the blanket, Levi then found a glass to turn into a vase, setting it on a coaster in the middle of the coffee table, before setting the box of pastries next to it. He was tired, but wanted to be there when Eren woke. Taking a shower, he put the washing on, before grabbing the book he'd been ignoring from his bedside table. Returning to the living room, he opened to the bookmarked page. Realising he couldn't actually remember anything that had happened, he flicked back to page one, starting all over again as Titan decided it was time to yowl for his food. Hushing his cat, Titan glared, running over and jumping up by Eren's face, head butting him solidly "Mmm. Titan, what's the matter boy? Is it breakfast time?" Nuzzling into Titan's face, Titan started kneading at Eren's chest "I'm up. Let's..." Eren shot up, pulling Titan up with him. The tom yowling again, this time in protest. Letting out a small gasp, Eren looked from the flowers to him "Levi?! Flowers?" "Yeah. I saw them and stuff" Fuck. He was so awkward. It'd seemed a good idea at the time. And Eren looked happy... he just felt like a shitty idiot for doing something so dopey and romantic "They're beautiful... um, are they for me?" "They're not for me, and I'm not dating my cat" "Levi! They're perfect... wow..." Setting Titan carefully down, he scrambled up, throwing his arms around him "Thank you!" "You're welcome, brat. I picked breakfast up too, and your things from Marco and Jean's... but I forgot to bring them up" "You didn't have to do all that. I was trying to be awake for when you got home" "Is that why you were watching cartoons?" "Shit... I didn't mean to fall asleep with the TV on. I'm sorry" "I'm not mad" "Still... I'm sorry. How about I make you a cup of tea?" "That sounds perfect" "I can't believe you brought me flowers" "Eren, its bought. When you pay for something it's bought. But when you bring it with you, it's brought" "Hmm... I always kind of thought they were the same word. But... if you bought the flowers, then didn't you bring them home? Meaning you brought them with you" Closing his book, Levi placed it on the arm of the recliner, pulling Eren down into lap. Eren letting out a squeak of surprise "My smart omega. You figured that out right away, didn't you?" "Maybe?" Kissing him, Eren immediately kissed him back, trying to deepen the kiss while wriggling in his lap. As the kiss broke, Eren smiled at him, his face filled with love "Breakfast? And then can we cuddle?" "That sounds like an amazing plan" Eren must have taken a hundred photos of the flowers, as well as trying a tiny bit from each pastry. The rest returned to the box and the box safely stored in the fridge. Lead by his boyfriend into his bedroom, which had pretty much become theirs, Eren shyly smiled at him "What are you planning?" "Can we touch a little?" It kind of seemed a waste of a perfectly good shower, while his dick was straight up "hello" "Mmm. I can't say no to that. Not when I have such a beautiful boyfriend" "Levi..." "Clothes on is fine" "Um... can I maybe touch you?" "You want to touch me?" "If that's ok" Laying down on his back, Levi raised an eyebrow when Eren didn't move "You can start touching at any time" "I was thinking" Climbing up and straddling his lap, the touching Eren wanted to do was of his abs. It wasn't sexual, more like a massage with the occasional kiss thrown in. Starting with his shoulders, Eren worked his way down to his hips, the confused look on his face doing all kinds of things to Levi's heart "Eren? Are you ok?" "Yeah... sorry. Was that weird?" "No. You asked to touch me, and you did" "I just... you're always so warm and solid. But I don't really get to see your chest because I'm usually laying on it" He nearly pointed out the fact Eren didn't see his chest this time thanks to his shirt, but for whatever reason, this had been important to his boyfriend. Sliding off his lap, Eren crawled over a little ways so he could slide beneath the blankets, Levi taking it as sign to do the same, before spooning up behind him "I'm probably going to fall asleep soon" "It's ok. This feels nice" "Good..." When Levi woke, he growled lightly. He'd thought they'd dodge a bullet with Eren not being in heat when Mike had brought him home, but from the delicious smell beneath his nose, they hadn't. Maybe that was why Eren had wanted to touch him? Forcing himself to wake his boyfriend, Eren groaned, before practically flying off the bed "Le-Levi?" "You're going into heat" "I..." "It's ok. I'll grab my things. I'm not going to hurt you" "I... Levi..." "What is it?" "It hurts" "Your cramping because your body wanted your alpha's knot" Dropping into a crouch, Eren whined softly "It's ok. I promise I won't touch you" A promise that was becoming hard to keep. His dick fucking ached to be buried inside Eren's soft warmth. To fill him and breed him, to mark him as his. Everything that Eren wasn't ready for "It hurts so much" Climbing from his bed, his alpha screamed at him to comfort his boyfriend, while the logical side of his brain screamed at his alpha to "shut the fuck up". Eren wasn't ready for this, and right now, that was his top priority. Grabbing his phone and his keys, he all but ran from his apartment, ignoring Eren's calls for him. He'd slipped up once and fucked Eren while he was in heat. He wouldn't make that same mistake again. The omega was finally his, and as much as it hurt both of them, this was the right thing to do. * This was the second worst painful heat of his life, or maybe it was more painful then the one he'd had at Zeke's apartment because he was trapped with Levi's scent. His body felt so hot. His erection aching so badly, but his thoughts of how dirty and impure it was touch himself, wouldn't leave his mind. He'd tried to shower and to bath, but nothing was bringing relief. His body was crying out for Levi. His omega instincts demanding he be bred, but having delivered a baby, breeding was even scarier. He'd seen how hard it'd been for Marco, and Marco was a good omega. He wasn't a good omega. If he was, then Levi wouldn't have left him... No. Levi was a good alpha and left because he knew he wasn't ready. He hadn't understood why he'd wanted to touch Levi so badly. To feel boyfriend toned chest beneath his fingers... but now he did. Levi was a more than suitable mate in every manner. He'd wanted to touch Levi because he wanted the alpha to touch him too. Not whatever he'd spat out in embarrassment. From the shower, he'd returned to Levi's bed. Climbing under the covers and moaning at the alphas scent. Getting on all fours, he nuzzled into Levi's pillow, slick steadily streaming down his inner thighs as he lowered himself down, rubbing his dick against the sheets in a blind need. He didn't even realise what he was doing, not until he came into the towel still around his waist. His orgasm so intense, his whole body shook with the effort to not fall into his own mess. A deep shame hit him. He'd just fucked Levi's bed. Whimpering, he shoved the blankets off and rushed back to his own room, locking the door behind him. He shouldn't have done that! Why had he done that! And why was he on his hands and knees? He didn't understand this kind of heat. He hated his usual ones, but he could mostly cope through those. These ones he didn't get. On shaky legs he sank down on his bed. He needed to apologise to Levi for being so bad. Worked up, in more ways then one, Eren called Levi's number. He'd been scared Levi wouldn't answer, but when the alpha did, his omega swelled with happiness "Eren? Are you ok?" "Levi... I'm sorry..." "Hey. No. It's not your fault for going into heat" "I don't know what... what to do. It hurts" "It's ok, I'm here. I'm sorry I had to leave you" "N-no. Thank... thank you... but I just messed up your bed" "Eren, I want you listen to me. Can you do that?" "Y-yes" Just the sound of Levi's voice had him slicking even harder. His dick bowed so hard that cum was dribbling against his lower stomach "You do whatever you need to do. Having a heat is not dirty" "I came... in your bed" "And we can rinse the sheets. It's ok" "But..." "I know your heats are weird, but it's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about" "They are" "Eren, I promise I don't find them wrong in any way" "It's dirty" "No it's not. Listen to me. It's not dirty. I promise you. Now, is it like your usual heats?" "N-no... it hurt more" "Ok. What that means is your body wants an alpha there to soothe you" "I don't..." "I know you don't. I know. That's why we're on the phone. The toys you didn't know what to do with, are in my room under the bed" "I..." "Shhh, just listen to me. Using some of those toys will make it hurt less, even though I know you're scared. If you need to use those toys, then use them. I don't want you to suffer" "It's wrong" "Eren, do you really think I would lie to you or try to trick you?" "N-no" "Then listen to me. I'm not going to think you're bad for touching yourself to get through your heat. And I don't care how many toys you need to use to do so. I promise I'm going to care about you all the same amount once your heat has passed" "Really?" "Yeah" "I don't know if I can do this" "You're amazing and you're strong. I know you can do anything and everything you put your mind to. This is your body Eren and your choice. Ok?" "T-thank you" "You're welcome. I want you to message me between your waves of heat and let me know that you're ok" "I... I'll try" "And don't forget to eat and drink lots. Your body burns through a lot of energy while in heat. So promise me you will" "I will" "I'll see you as soon as I can" He tried not to use the toys. His fingers didn't feel right though. Every time he started feeling wrong about it, he forced himself to remember Levi's words. Levi didn't find this dirty or wrong. When the peak of his heat hit, he finally caved. He'd already moved back into Levi's room because it felt safer, so retrieving the box of toys wasn't that much effort. He just didn't know what to do next. There were so many different things, and his omega didn't know what it wanted, only to be full. Finding one with a suction cap, his mind settled on it. He could do this. Levi wanted him to do this. Pushing it onto the wooden floor, he nervously laughed at the "schtuk" sound it made at it stuck. He didn't know exactly what he wanted to do, but he did know what he wanted to do on Levi. He'd seen other dancers giving blowjobs before. The recipients seemed to really enjoy them, even women though he wasn't sure how that worked. Kneeling, he tentatively ran his hand up and down the silicone shaft, trying to imagine doing this to Levi. Curious, he slid his lips over the top, sucking hard on the plastic as his dick throbbed. He'd never thought he'd actually feel like he liked this... or hard from sucking on a plastic dick. Bobbing his head up and down, his right hand gripped his dick, jerking frantically as he tried to take the dildo deeper in his mouth. Coming, he pushed his mouth too far down, gagging as he choked. Ok. That wasn't fun. He didn't like that. Even as his orgasm rolled through him, his stomach still cramped. It wasn't enough. He needed more. His mind hadn't cleared in the slightest. Clumsily he tried to mount the dildo. His slick making it nearly impossible to slide right down as the plastic would slide up his arse crack. He cheeks flamed with embarrassment. If Levi was there, he probably would have died from it. When he finally lined it up, the blunt head didn't feel right. He wanted to scream and escape, but instead he clawed at the tops of his legs, pushing himself to keep sinking down, before dropping. He saw black for a moment. Everything hurt. His arse throbbed at the sudden intrusions, but slowly the throb began to feel more pleasurable. Instead of just pain, he felt full, like his omega wanted. Groaning, he slowly rocked against the dildo. He wasn't supposed to be feeling this good. Closing his eyes, he could almost believe it was Levi inside of him. The scent of the alpha was still strong in the room. Rising and falling, he found a rhythm that made his whole body feel good. His head killed back as he moaned and mewed, fucking himself like his dynamic demanded. Zeke had told him this was wrong, but why did it feel good then? Coming across the floor in a few small pulses, he continued to ride the dildo. Imagining he was putting on a show for his boyfriend. Imagining Levi was telling him how brave he was and now proud he was. This was how he ended up getting through his heat. He only used the one toy, and it didn't fill him the way his omega wanted, like a knot would. But it did take the cramps away and without the cramps being so bad, he could kind of do things. * When Levi came back, Eren was sure he'd fucked himself into some kind of a daze. All he wanted to do was cuddle. His depression not so bad, other than the need to cling. He felt bad that Levi had to clean everything up, though he had done the floors, but his boyfriend had arrived home much faster than he'd expected him to. It wasn't even half an hour between saying his heat he'd finally passed, to Levi walking through the front door. Making sure he ate and drank, Levi then carried him to his bed, probably because the sheets from Levi's were still in the wash, and laid down with him, peppering kisses to his shoulder as the alpha sighed softly to himself "Levi?" "What's up?" "Are you mad?" Levi sighed again, Eren flinching at the soft sound "No, I'm not mad" "Are you sure?" "I'm sure" "Then why do you keep sighing?" "I didn't realise I was" "You are" Levi snorted, his breath tickling the back of Eren's neck "I'm not mad. I was worried, but you came through your heat" "I... touched myself" "How did it feel?" "Really wrong, but it hurt so much, then maybe alright" "And now?" "I don't want to think about it" "Your heat or touching yourself?" "Both... I kept thinking about you" "I missed you too" "I... I'm sorry. Every time I started to get scared, I thought about you" "Then why are you sorry?" "Because it felt wrong" "Eren, it's not wrong to think about your boyfriend" "But I feel like I broke your trust by thinking about you without permission" "Silly brat. You don't need permission. I'm flattered you thought of me" "You're not disgusted?" "No. Would you be mad if I said I thought about you?" "Me?" "Yep. Your heat started a rut" "I'm so sorry" "You don't need to be sorry. We're taking things slow, and I like it" "But ruts are supposed to hurt too" "It was fine. Besides, I knew you were going through the same thing in your own way. All I wanted to do was come home and make sure you were safe" "I'm sorry you had to leave" "You don't need to be sorry. I promised I'd still be here at the of your heat, didn't I? And I came back home" "Are you sure it's ok?" "It's more than ok. It makes me feel proud to know you're safe and here. That I can provide a safe and warm place for your heat to pass" "I spent most of it in your room. Your scent makes me feel so safe" "I'll take that as a compliment. I know you're sleepy, but I didn't get a chance to tell you last week" What hadn't Levi told him? They're texted... so why hadn't Levi told him whatever it was?! Was it bad? Did his alpha not want him anymore?! His scent soured, causing Levi to hush him softly... but he had to know now, his voice shaking "Tell me what?" "It's nothing bad, I promise. You have a therapy appointment tomorrow. I thought after all that happened, that it would be a good idea" "Oh thank fuck. You're an arsehole. I thought you were going to say you wanted to dump me" "No. I'm not dumping you. Not now and not ever if things go the way I want" "You sounded mad then serious" "Then I'm sorry. I also have something else I need to tell you" "What is it?" "I've been approved for leave. Two full weeks, at the start of November" He couldn't remember what month they were in. He was pretty sure it was towards the end of September, but he'd have to check his phone. His heat had thrown his internal body clock off. Someone could tell him it was January and he wouldn't be surprised "Does that mean... mean we can take Zeke?" "Only if you're ready. I'd still like to take you to the ocean" "Are you sure?" "Yeah. Even if you don't find the perfect place for Zeke, I thought we could spend some quality alone time together" "What about Titan?" "Hanji will check in on him. He's got his feeder and his water, so he'll be just fine" "The ocean..." "Yeah... we can get a nice room, and maybe go on a date?" Eren let out something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle "That would be nice" "That's what I thought. I'm going to make you a doctors appointment too" His happiness turned back into confusion "Why?" "Because if I hadn't woken when I did, we might not have been able to seperate in time. I never want to make you feel uncomfortable..." "But the only time we had sex was during my heat. It's probably a smart idea" "Eren, you know I..." "Levi, it's ok. It's more than ok. It shows you really do care for me. You're thinking of my health, for me... you're always thinking of me. It's a good idea. I wanted you so badly, and it was... let's just say, it was hard to hold back" "I thought you might be mad" "No, I'm not. Thank you. Just, I won't take a suppressant" "I don't mind. In fact, I'd prefer you didn't. I like coming home to your smell, and I'm not the best at always reading the mood, so your scent helps me understand. Also, I don't want you to suffer from having your heat messed with" Snuggling back into Levi's hold, his boyfriend threaded their fingers together "Get some sleep brat. I know how tired you are" "Mmm. Tired doesn't even come close. I have sore muscles that I didn't even know existed" "Did you bath?" "Yep. Bathed and showered... I tried to clean up, but I'm sorry if I missed anywhere" "It's alright. I'll take care of it" * Eren's heat had been a mess. It was obvious he'd tried to clean up, he'd just sort of failed in spots. Like the bathroom hamper... from the bundle of towels, Levi seriously doubted Eren had clothes on at any point of his heat. Lifting them out the basket, he hadn't been able to stop himself from growling at the scent of Eren's slick and spent cum... nor had he been able to stop his already aching dick from getting hard again. He'd spent his rut at Erwin's place. A week of absolute misery for him. He'd found Eren's bag of clothes, and pretty much built himself his own nest to get him through his rut. He wanted Eren every single second of it. He wanted to come home, throw Eren onto their bed, bury himself between his legs and never come out again. Only, Eren's heat wasn't his usual one. The only thing usual about it was the lack of change before it. No changes in his scent, until bam! Eren was in heat. His poor boyfriend had been so scared and confused, but hearing he'd finally touched himself was huge. It wasn't just sexy as hell. It meant that Eren was finally opening up to the idea that it wasn't dirty. He'd already found the dildo the omega had used, thanks to dried water stains on the bathroom counter. The long thick toy, pushing him over the edge... unashamedly he jerked off. His dick still tender as fuck from his rut, but when he came into the same towel Eren had, something about it felt right. He didn't understand what his alpha was thinking. This was their boyfriend. Eren would be scared and confused if he found out... but at the same time, he wanted to cover every single spot Eren's heat scent lingered on with his own. The kid had thrown him for a loop, yet again, and while his alpha seemed to get it, this time Levi was just along for the ride. Ever since Eren had come into his life, everything had changed. Not all of it for the better, and some days his alpha was a complete arsehole over it all, but Eren was precious to him like nothing else he'd ever had. Some days it scared him how hard he'd fallen for the omega. He'd had a family before and lost it all. If he lost Eren, he... he'd never recover from that. A thorough clean through of his apartment helped recenter him. No traces of Eren's heat scent remaining once he was done. He wanted to throw the flowers he'd bought Eren out, but they still had a little life and Eren would be disappointed over not getting to enjoy them... even if they were starting to get pollen all over his table, and crunchy bits of leaves. Maybe he wanted them gone more than he'd realised... no. For Eren's sake, they stayed. His boyfriend lived here with him and they were his gift to do with as he chose. Eren came wandering out of their room at lunch time, padding softly across to him before dropping into his lap with a groan "Everything ok?" "Bad dream" "Wanna talk about it?" "No... I wanna listen to you" "To me?" "Yeah... just anything" "What's the first thing you want to do when you get to the ocean?" "Really? You're making me think?" "Is thinking bad?" "Yes. I don't want to think..." "Then what do you want to do today? I've cleaned the apartment, and I'm off work until tomorrow, we're not allowed to work during a rut. So we can order takeout, watch bad movies and cuddle up like this if you want" "That sounds perfect. Levi, please D-don't let me fall asleep" "I make no promises" Eren nibbled on some pizza, but seemed happier with cuddling up. Titan laying on Eren, Eren laying on him. He hadn't even realised he'd fallen asleep, not until Eren shot up, screaming Zeke's name and narrowly smacking into his face in the process. Running from the living room, Eren was soon throwing up his guts in the bathroom. Fucking Zeke. Getting up, he trailed after Eren. His boyfriend crying as he vomited. Kneeling down, he went to hug his omega, but as soon as he touched Eren, Eren reeled back, scrambling away from him "Don't touch me! Don't! I'll be good... don't hurt him anymore! No! Zeke..." With his hands in his hair, Eren started rocking, mumbling Zeke's name over and over. He had no idea what had triggered him. They'd been watching a bad horror movie, but Eren had fallen quiet before there was any actual splatter scenes. He'd made sure it was one he'd seen, with no bondage scenes or murdered parents or siblings... it was probably the wrong movie to be picking while Eren was in his post heat depression "Eren?" "Go away!" "Eren, its Levi. You need to calm down" "Zeke, I need Zeke" Well Zeke was in a box... in a pile of ashes.... with some hair in a draw "Eren, Zeke died. Come on, you need to wake up" "Zeke" It was a miserable half strangled cry "It's alright. You're alright" Instead of crawling into his arms like he usually did, Eren pushed him away, fleeing out the bathroom and into his room. Flushing the vomit away, he followed Eren to his room, to find the door handle locked "Eren?" "Go away" "Are you ok?" "You let me fall asleep" "I didn't realise you were sleeping" "I... just want to be alone" That was great, but what about what he wanted. He wanted to cuddle his boyfriend and his cat, and just enjoy his day off to recover from his rut "Ok. I'll be out here for when you're ready" "I'm sorry" Switching movie to something lighter, his mind wasn't on it. He couldn't figure what had set Eren off so badly. Even running it through his mind, he still came up clueless. He was probably over thinking it all. Eren had had a nightmare before he'd come out to join him on the sofa. He'd flinched when their pizza arrived and had taken a while to settle back against him. If he'd been thinking, he wouldn't have chosen a stupid horror movie, but Eren really seemed to like them. He enjoyed pointing out the mistakes the characters made, just like Levi did with Erwin. He'd thought it would distract Eren from his own thoughts, but it didn't work out that way. Fuck. Trying to be considerate was harder than he'd thought it would be. Even if things came naturally with Eren, when panic attacks happened or the nightmares, his first thought was alway what had he done wrong. How had he set Eren off? He'd never worried about it in that way before, but he had now that they were dating... he felt like any little setback was his fault. He wasn't used to feeling like this. And he hated it. This wasn't him. He knew he wasn't the cause of Eren's "damage". Zeke was... the same Zeke that Eren had wanted over him. As he realised all of this stemmed back to the fact he was jealous of the blonde haired abusive fucker, his mood fell further. Eren was his now. He had no need to be fucking jealous and his alpha could go suck a dick for being such an arsehole.

[songofsehun]

lotte cinema

It’s short, it’s hasty, and y’all probably either forgot about me or thought I died. This bitch is back though. Here’s something for @gonnagetyoubaby​ because it was inevitable. Enjoy.

You were tired and confused, but you had to say that being back in Seoul felt better than ever. You had a uneventful yet long day, what with your broken AC and having to wait for the tardy repairman in the sweltering heat while trying to tame your hunger pangs. But all shall indeed pass, and you had found yourself sprinting over to the first place your legs could take you.

The gourmet waffle place you had accidentally run into the night before. You sighed to yourself, stepping into the sinful locale as you pretended to be an adult whose first meal of the day wasn't a waffle. You hadn't had chocolate since you arrived, you silently chanted to yourself.

It was sometime between you pouring extra chocolate syrup onto your waffle and regretting your dietary decisions when your phone lit up.

Baekhyun: heyhEY ;))))) so whos down 4 a movie bc dat me (3:43pm)

Your jaw locked as you chewed the last of your chocolate chip waffle, your eyes fixated on the bright screen of your phone and you wondered how it was possible to feel so much affection laced with disdain.

 Sure... but why you gotta write like that (3:44pm)

You didn't realize you slammed the phone down on the table until you felt the inquisitive eyes of the cashier on you, immediately making you sink into your seat in embarrassment.

Baekhyun: rite how? lmaoooooo k but cum 2 lotte cinamon @ ate

................... (3:50pm)

Baekhyun: wat. pls reply i cud be dyeing. (3:56pm)

...that's it, I'm not going 🤦🏻‍♀️😑🙄

Baekhyun: no!!!!!!! I was just joking!!!! I'm sorry just come at 8pm okay!!!

💁🏻‍♀️😌 see you later.

Baekhyun: ilu <333333

And that's how you ended up at the movie theater you agreed to meet at, stood waiting by the food counter observing the sleuths of rowdy young people ordering popcorn.The shrill voices of the begone youth had created a creeping sensation to form at the pit of your stomach. As you witnessed in horror how a teenaged boy nonchalantly scooped his dropped popcorn from the dirty floor back to its container, you realized how much you messed up.

Baekhyun had an interesting way of watching movies, if one might say so. Similar to watching a movie with director's commentary, only if the director had no idea about films in general and was only able to express himself in gibberish and inane commentary.

You had agreed to a movie date with an overgrown child who suffers from temper tantrums when he's not the undivided subject of your attention.

Now, you would have been lying if you had said you were regretting accepting his offer. As much respect a film may call for, he is the only one you'd allow an interruption. Even though you didn't like to admit it.

Your legs had started to cramp and your patience was running thin. The LED display announcing the time taunted you.

7:47pm.

How dare he. How dare he not show up yet when he knows a movie needs to be respected with an early entrance. He had stopped answering your texts a good fifteen minutes earlier.

People had started flooding into the venue and the trailers were already playing when a sweaty mess of strawberry blond clouded your vision, and you didn't really have an excuse for your heart to beat so fast when you were the one standing still.

--

"My back hurts."

"Sit still."

"But it hurts!"

"Just shut up, please!"

A low, hurt whine was heard followed by silence and you had let out a sigh of relief. It hadn't even been twenty minutes into the movie and Baekhyun was already fussing about his seat, letting out occasional whines with his stuffed mouth full of popcorn.

"...did you know the first movie was," he shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, "by famed French director Louis Le Baguette?"

"Yeah," you had nodded absent-mindedly. "Wait, what?" you turned to him with a frown. "Just shut up, please!"

It went quiet again and you had started thinking how the general populace doesn't respect movie theaters like they should. They don't even care to find a seat with the best acoustics and they--

Tap. Tap. Tap, tap, tap. Whizz.

"Baekhyun," you hissed, "throw that damn popcorn into your piehole."

"Piehole?" he snorted, "sooooooo mature." His giggle deafened your ears. You rolled your eyes and decided it was for the best to just ignore him.

It was a few more terrible jokes later and a couple of pleadings from your side when you had felt a weight rest on your shoulder.

And as you admired the content smile on his now peaceful face, you thought that perhaps it was a small price to pay for this experience you wouldn't change for the world.

#baekhyun #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun scenarios #exo scenario #exo #exo scenarios #baekhyun imagine #exo imagine

[monte-cristo-incorrect-quotes]

“your roommate is crushing on me, and my roommate is crushing on you, and we’re both meant to be setting the other up with our respective roommates but we’ve ended up falling for each other and this cannot end well” Young!Fernand/Edmond (bc the friendship-love!AU story you wrote about these two is just too perfect)

((Sorry for the delay, things happened. This is definitely not what you asked for, but I couldn’t think of anything else. I hope you like it anyways!))

(Sequel to this post)

Edmond comes back six months later, heartsick, exhausted and sad, nausea sloshing in the pit of his belly, his eyes tired from seeing too much of the sea, his throat sore from tasting too much of the salty wind. His heart almost bursts from too much sadness and longing when he sees Marseilles, and he doesn’t hold back the tears.

Nobody mocks him. They know what it’s like. 

He spots Mercédès and Fernand, arm in arm, waiting for him, mingled in the crowd – but they are easy to see, for Edmond, at least. The older boy doesn’t smile back at Edmond, but he can see how his eyes light up, so he doesn’t take offense of Fernand’s usual sulkiness. 

Captain Leclère doesn’t let him go until he has finished all his chores, until Le Pharaon is safe and sound, until the other sailors have gone away too. Edmond doesn’t mind. He knows they will wait for him, just like he has waited for them these whole six months. 

Finally, he hops down the ship and Mercédès runs to him, takes his hands and smiles, beautiful and wild as always.

“We missed you!” she says, smiling widely and happily. “Oh Edmond! How we missed you! Never leave us again, do you hear me? We missed you too much for our own good!”

“And I you,” he answers, grinning at Fernand who is slowly walking up to them. “Come, let’s go home,” Edmond says, taking both of them by the arm, too worn out to feel anything but relief and melancholy.

“You are tired,” the older boy says gravely. “You should stop by our house. Mother will have food and drinks ready for you, and you can spend the night.”

“I need to see Father first.”

“Oh, he is not here!” Mercédès chirps, still holding him tightly. She’s holding both of their hands, walking between them – proud and untamed, the freckles on her tanned arms and shoulders invisible under the setting sun, her black hair twisted up in a braid – the kind of braid she liked to fashion Edmond’s hair into, when they were little and he would let his hair grow long. Fernand is calmer than Mercédès; his serious, grave looks still there, barely lightened up by an occasional smile. 

“Where is he?” the young sailor asks, still gazing at Fernand. He’s grown up a bit, he thinks, his chest is slightly larger than before and he is almost handsome, now. 

“He’s gone to Avignon, I think,” Mondego says. “Will you stay at our house?” he asks again, staring right at Edmond’s eyes. The latter, inexplicably, blushes. 

“Oh, please do, Edmond! We have missed you so much! You shouldn’t stay alone. You must tell us everything about the places you have been to, the wonders you have seen. It will be like listening to Les milles et une nuit!” Mercédès doesn’t stop pleading and begging until he accepts; she claps her hands when he finally does and even Fernand laughs out, though briefly.

Edmond is tired, his stomach aches and he wants to see his father, but he is content.

Four hours later, the whole household is asleep. Edmond is in Fernand’s room – madame Mondego has obliged him to eat something, drink a lot and have a walk before resting down, and yet the boy can’t sleep. 

There is something in his mind – something he wants to talk about, and yet he dreads it. He doesn’t want to face the truth right now, he wants to stay here, listening to Fernand’s calm, heavy breathing and yet he can’t, he needs to get it off his chest, otherwise he won’t rest at all but he’s scared and –

“Sleep,” comes Fernand’s deep, tired voice. “Stop thinking, Edmond. Sleep.”

“I can’t,” the boy whispers back. “I missed you,” he adds then in what almost sounds like a whine, feeling childish and forlorn and tired. “I missed you.”

Fernand doesn’t make a sound for a minute, and then Edmond hears him get up and a sudden wave of relief surges in his heart. He breathes freely now, and even scoots a bit to make place for the older boy.

Fernand slips in with him under the covers, Edmond curls up against his chest and sighs again. Fernand drapes his arm across the sailor’s waist and holds him there for a while, before briefly pressing his lips to his forehead, his cheek. Edmond sighs a third time, contentedly. 

“I am here now,” he whispers, his lids already drooping. “I am sorry I was away.”

“It’s fine,” Fernand murmurs. “I’m here, too. Sleep, now.”

“You won’t go away.”

It’s not a question, but Fernand answers anyways:

“No. Sleep.”

#hmmm thanks headaches for preventing me from writing something decent #the count of monte-cristo #asks #fanfic #mercedes herrera #edmond dantès #fernand mondego #not an incorrect quote

[princesse-de-ravenclaw]

50+ Reasons

Request: A Sirius x reader based on, “I have composed a list of 50+ reasons on why you should be my wife. Number 1, our children would be adorable…”

Word count: 1,972 (not my longest, but I did my best)

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It was late in autumn and everyone in Hogwarts agreed on one thing: the students were in dire need of a party. Everyone needed to loosen up, so all of the students put their differences aside and worked together to throw one big party in the Gryffindor common room. The Hufflepuff students were in charge of planning the food, the Slytherins were in charge of drinks-alcoholic and not, the Ravenclaws were in charge of music, and the Gryffindors were in charge of decorating and arranging the furniture in a way that was convenient for everyone. After a week of planning, the set Friday arrived and the party was in full swing by 8:30. Y/N was seated on a couch in between Remus and Peter-James and Sirius lost in the crowd shortly after their 4th drink of the night.

“I’ll bet you ten sickles that Padfoot ends up with a girl in his bed and Prongs is rejected by Evans again,” Remus chuckled, sipping his muggle beer as his eyes scanned the room for his friends. “You know what, I’ll take that bet,” Y/N decided. “Last I saw Sirius, he looked way too drunk to put on any effective moves, and believe it or not, Lily has been warming up to James lately. She’s been quiet about it, but I think she might just be pining after him as well,” she said, earning a laugh from Remus as he took another swig of his drink. “I don’t know how you drink that stuff,” Y/N shook her head. “It’s an acquired taste,” Remus shrugged. “It tastes like dirty carbonated water,” Y/N made a face, causing Remus to laugh again. “Let me try it, mate,” Peter spoke up from the other side of Y/N. Remus passed over the bottle and Peter took a small sip. “’S not so bad,” he forced, trying to suppress a disgusted face.

“It’s okay, Pete. You can tell him it’s disgusting,” Y/N giggled. “It isn’t so good, either,” Peter admitted as he passed the drink back to Remus. “I think I’ll stick with the spiked butterbeer,” Peter announced, bringing his own drink to his lips. “Me too, Wormtail. Me too,” Y/N tapped her cup against his before taking a long sip. “How many of those have you had anyway, love?” Remus raised an eyebrow as Y/N stretched out and placed her legs over his lap. “Not enough,” She muttered as Sirius came into her view, drunkenly sauntering over to where she was sitting. “Hey, Pads. How are you-oof!” Y/N grunted as Sirius plopped down into her lap. “Hey, baby,” Sirius slurred as he reached behind him for her hands and placed them around his waist. “Sirius, get off. You’re heavy,” Y/N groaned, attempting to push him off with no luck.

“No! Hold me! Why don’t you love me?” He whined, reaching back for her hands once more and placing them around his belly. “I do love you, Padfoot, however, I would love you a lot more if you weren’t crushing me with your heavy butt,” Y/N replied, attempting to push him off once more, this time successfully. “My butt is fantastic,” Sirius muttered as he drunkenly scrambled to stand up, only to fall once more. “Come on up,” Y/N sighed, standing up and helping Sirius back onto the couch. Sirius pulled her into his lap as soon as he was seated. “I do like this better,” Sirius hummed, pulling Y/N down against him and nuzzling into her neck. “I’m sure you do,” Y/N rolled her eyes and tried to shift away from him a little bit, but he seemed to enjoy it a little more than Y/N had anticipated.

“Sirius-” Y/N stopped as Sirius began to place sloppy kisses down her neck. “No sir. Absolutely not,” Y/N frowned as she leaned away from Sirius. “Sir? Think I like the sound of that,” Sirius slurred with a lazy smirk. “Ew! Godric, Sirius,” Y/N grimaced and pushed herself off of his lap completely. “Where ya goin’, sweetheart?” Sirius called after her. “Dancing. Find someone else to disgustingly flirt with,” Y/N replied with a playful smile. She wouldn’t admit it, but she did enjoy when Sirius made her the object of his affection.  She only wished it was real, rather than him joking around when he was sober, or too drunk to know what he was doing.

Y/N made her way to the dance floor, and found Marlene, grabbing her and dancing along to several songs together, Marlene pointing out a blushing Lily dancing with an ecstatic-looking James Potter. The Ravenclaws had put together a fantastic playlist, with wizard and muggle music alike. Apparently Sirius had gotten up and rejoined the party, because occasionally Y/N would spot him around, consuming shot after shot of firewhiskey. About an hour had passed before Sirius stumbled over to where Y/N and Marlene were dancing and made his way between the two girls, falling into Y/N. “Y/N/N, le’s dance,” he slurred, grabbing onto her and stumbling once again, almost bringing both of them too the ground.

“Ookay, Pads. I think you’ve done enough partying. Time for bed,” Y/N laughed. “N-no! Wanna… wanna be with you!” Sirius cried. “You will be with me. Come on,” Y/N wrapped an arm around Sirius’s waist and started leading him out of the crowd of dancing teens. “G'night Marlene!” Y/N called over her shoulder. “You two, make good decisions!” Marlene called back with a smirk, causing Y/N to roll her eyes and practically drag Sirius to the Marauders’ dorm. “’M really not t-tired,” Sirius mumbled as Y/N lead him into the dorm. “Maybe not, but you’re too drunk to do anything else,” Y/N sat him down on his bed. “’M not too drunk t’ hang out with m'best friend,”  Sirius countered, struggling to sit up straight. “Mhm. Why don’t we get you out of those clothes and into some pajamas?” Y/N suggested. She stood up and stared rummaging around before he answered.

When Y/N finally found a pair of pajamas for Sirius, she turned around to face him, only to find him staring at her, his brow furrowed deep in thought. “You okay over there?” Y/N laughed. “Mhm,” Sirius muttered, his eyebrows still furrowed. “Alrighty then… stand up for me, love,” Y/N chuckled, helping him to his feet. The two fumbled around with getting Sirius out of his clothes and into his pajamas, Sirius being oddly quiet during the process. By the time Sirius was in his pajamas and sat back in his bed, his face still showed deep concentration. “’S going on in there?” Y/N asked with a light laugh, brushing her thumb over the crease in between his eyebrows. Sirius was silent for a few moments before clearing his throat and speaking up.

“Y/N/N,” he started in an earnest tone, sounding quite sober for someone who had consumed as many drinks as he had. “I have composed a list of 50+ reasons on why you should be my wife. Number 1, our children would be adorable-” he began, only to be cut off by Y/N. “What?” She shrieked, completely caught off guard. “Babe, Please,” Sirius raised his hand in a sassy, yet extremely drunken manner. “I have like 52 more reasons.” Y/N just gawked at him. “Number 2: I quite enjoy they way you dance around your kitchen wearing just a big shirt while you make breakfast,” Sirius continued, causing Y/N’s cheeks to heat up at the memory of Sirius staying with her over holiday last year. She was planning on giving him the “full guest experience,” including bringing him breakfast in bed, but he had woken up earlier than Y/N expected him too, and he had walked in on her preparing the meal, while also dancing around in her pajamas. “I’d like to wake up to that more often,” Sirius clarified.

“Number 3: I’d cook for you all the time,” Sirius announced. “You-you don’t even know how to cook?” Y/N managed. “You could teach me and then I’d cook for you all the time,” Sirius declared with determination. “Number 4: you are incredibly attractive, I am incredibly attractive, it just makes sense. Number 5: you are my absolute favorite person to cuddle and I think I might die if I don’t get to go to sleep cuddling you every night for the rest of my life. Number 6: you are always a constant light in my life and I promise to always try my best to keep a constant light in your life, too. Number 7-” “Sirius,” Y/N cut him off and took both of his hands in hers. “Yes, Love?” He asked her sleepily. “I think you should at least take me on a date before you start proposing ideas of marriage to me,” Y/N giggled.

Sirius hummed, “Then can I take you on a date to Hogsmead tomorrow?” “How about we talk about it in the morning, when you’re sober?” Y/N laughed. “Fine by me,” Sirius shrugged, flopping back into bed and snuggling into the covers before pulling Y/N down with him. “Goodnight, Sirius,” Y/N murmured. “Goodnight, my beautiful future-wife,” Sirius sighed happily. “Easy there, Tiger,” Y/N giggled, but allowed him to cuddle into her. Sirius was asleep within minutes, and Y/N could not stop the smile that spread across her face until she was asleep as well.

By the time Y/N woke up, James, Remus, and Peter were all awake, and Remus was giving her a smug look. “What?” She asked him suspiciously. “You owe me 10 sickles,” Remus smirked. “What are You-oh! No way! I don’t count!” She cried, remembering the bet they had made the night before. “Are you a girl?” Remus cocked an eyebrow. “Well, yes, but-” Y/N tried, but Remus cut her off. “No buts. You are a girl. Are you in his bed?” Remus questioned. He was enjoying this way too much. “Yes… But! He isn’t awake! You said he would wake up with a girl in his bed!” Y/N exclaimed. “You’re right. I did.. Hey, Padfoot wake up!” Remus called, causing Sirius to whine and reach for Y/N. “You don’t know that he’s awa-” “Y/N, make him stop yelling,” Sirius groaned, cutting her off. Remus’s smirk only grew. “Fine,” Y/N huffed. “First of all, I hate you. Second of all, I’m only giving you five, because I saw Lily dancing with Prongs last night,” she stuck her tongue out at Remus.

“Prongs! You got Lily to dance with you last night?” Remus turned his attention to James. “Sure did. She even agreed to accompany me to Hogsmead today,” James grinned. “Speaking of,” Sirius sat straight up, causing Y/N to jump. “How in the fuck are you not hung over?” Peter asked, incredulous. “Because I’m on a mission! Anyway,” Sirius retorted. “Y/N, will you go on a date to Hogsmead with me today?” Sirius asked with a wink, earning a loud laugh from her, and slightly confused looks from his roommates. “I’m not kidding!” He exclaimed. “I still have 47 more reasons!” “Then I guess you better get dressed rather quickly. It sounds like we have a long day ahead of us,” Y/N playfully pecked his cheek before leaping out of his bed and racing out of the door and to her room, Sirius swatting at her bum as she left his bed. “What in the bloody hell was that about?” Peter asked once Y/N was gone. “I’m gonna marry her some day. There went my future wife,” Sirius grinned.

A/N: I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything (And we agreed my next fic would be Remus.. I’m sorry, he’s coming soon I swear!) I wanted to  get one up for Ben’s Birthday (Which is also Andrew’s birthday I hate myself… THE NEXT ONE WILL BE REMUS I SWEAR) and anyway, this request has been in my inbox for quite a bit. I hope you all love it, let me know! Thank you for the constant love and support, I appreciate you all so much!!

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#sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black fic #sirius black fluff #young!sirius black #young!sirius x reader #young!sirius imagine #marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders era fanfiction #james potter #young!james potter #remus lupin #young!remus lupin #peter pettigrew #young!peter pettigrew #lily evans #young!lily Evans #marlene mckinnon #young!marauders #young!marlene McKinnon #jily #young!jily #marauders fluff #marauders fandom #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction