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miracleonice87 · 10 months

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from uncle trav to killa dad

part of the kissing kelce universe

a/n: apparently she writes NFL fic now. no one is shocked. the first installment in the kissing kelce miniseries / universe! sharing the first 3,400ish words of the 8,100ish I already have written... "alright nah" 😈 hope y'all enjoy! (also, will make a masterlist for this universe specifically -- until then just use the "kissing kelce" tag)

warnings: swearing, sickness / vomiting, alcohol, mentions of menstrual cycles / unprotected sex / pregnancy / babies, allusions to not keeping a pregnancy / not being ready to have kids, basically don't read if pregnancy / having kids is triggering for you

word count: ~3,400+

___

February 2023

It was only the end of its second month, but 2023 was already one of the best years of Travis’s life.

First off, this was the first calendar year he had ever begun as your husband, not your boyfriend or your fiancé, which still delighted him to no end, hence why he was constantly referring to you as “Mrs. Kelce,” both publicly and, his favorite, privately. Two weeks ago, he’d won his second Super Bowl after competing against his big brother and best friend, Jason – a literal childhood dream come true. And in one week’s time, he’d be hosting Saturday Night Live. Saturday. Night. Live. As in, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night.” As in 30 Rockefeller Plaza. As in who in the fuck was about to let him do that?!

Travis Kelce had the world on a string, you by his side, and he could not ask for more.

Except for you to shake the illness that had been plaguing you for the last several days.

You’d always been an expert napper, but usually for no more than an hour or so; this week you’d been going to bed early, sleeping late, and napping for two or three hours at a time, and Travis was highly concerned. He didn’t like seeing you stub your toe, let alone seeing you struggle with such low energy. He had a growing feeling this was more than just you catching up on your rest after a jam-packed week of team festivities and visitors.

This especially worried him knowing that the two of you needed to leave for New York City first thing tomorrow morning. For a normal event appearance, he’d be moving flights or changing dates, making any adjustments necessary to tend to you and make you as comfortable as possible, but he didn’t exactly have that flexibility with SNL, and he was beginning to panic a bit.

After a Zoom call with his agents and the SNL producers walking Travis through the schedule for his upcoming rehearsal week, he flipped his laptop shut and immediately hustled up the steps to the primary bedroom, where he assumed you must still be sleeping, as he hadn’t heard any movement upstairs during his call – not even that of the dogs, who usually found their way downstairs to him when they heard his voice as he was taking calls.

Your husband couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was off.

Travis made quick work of striding down the long hallway and sneaking into your bedroom, trying not to make the hardwood floor creak beneath his large frame as he sidled up to your side of the bed. Sure enough, he found both Rambo and Chauncey snuggled at your feet, popping their heads up when he entered the room, clearly on guard and ready to defend their sleeping mama should the need arise. He ruffled their fur upon his approach and made a mental note to reward them with treats for that later, then focused his attention back on you.

Usually, you rested serenely on your back or side, with a single pillow beneath your head; today, you obviously couldn’t get comfortable, because you were curled into the fetal position with an arm flung between two pillows messily folded under your head, another pillow shoved between your chest and your knees. Even in your sleep, your brows were drawn together in discomfort. He hated to wake you, but his intuition was nagging at him to ensure that you were okay. As he slowly lowered himself to the edge of the bed and traced your bottom lip tenderly with his thumb, you stirred, blinking bleary eyes.

“Hey, sweetness,” Travis whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “How’s my girl doin’?”

With his lips still resting against your skin, his hand cradling the back of your head, you groaned. You weren’t one to complain, but whatever this sickness was that you’d been dealing with was kicking your ass, and he knew it.

“Mm, I’ve been better,” you admitted, grasping his forearm with both hands to keep him close, ever comforted by his presence and touch. “It is flu season — must just be some bug going around.”

Travis hummed contemplatively, then broke away to peer down at you carefully.

“Maybe, but if you’re not feeling better by tomorrow, we’re gettin’ you to a doctor, even if it’s in New York,” he announced, gently palming your stomach which had been uncharacteristically sour all day. The warmth of his touch soothed your whole abdomen like a heating pad. “Capisce?”

“Yes, captain,” you muttered, hiding your face in his sizable bicep as he snickered. “I’m due for my period soon so that’s probably not helping either,” you added, a throwaway comment on any other day…

But not today.

Though you couldn’t see it, Travis’s eyes narrowed at that remark, flickering around the room wildly as his mind began to race.

Nah, he mused silently. Couldn’t be.

But it seemed you arrived at the same possibility on your own, because seconds later, you gasped, exclaimed “oh, my fucking god!” and sat up straight, leaning your arms against his thigh for strength as the room seemed to spin around you, the dogs hopping off the bed, annoyed at the interruption of their own naps.

“Travis, what’s today’s date?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s the 28th, baby,” he said evenly.

And with that, you flung the covers off and ran for the bathroom once again, dropping to your knees on the marble and leaning over the toilet just in time.

As Travis followed closely after you, he knew. He couldn’t believe that, in all of the Super Bowl hype and hysteria, he had missed it up until now. It was so obvious. Your monthly visitor always arrived on the 20th of the month – when you’d asked once how he remembered to bring home Diet Cokes and chocolate-covered pretzels, items you purposely didn’t keep in the house and only indulged in when you were PMSing, on the correct day, month in and month out, Travis often teased that you were so regular, he could set his watch to you.

He hadn’t purchased those items this month, though. Hadn’t even thought of it due to all of the post-win, postseason pandemonium.

And apparently, neither had you.

He hastily did the math. Today was February 28th, which meant that you were now eight days late. His pulse quickened at the realization, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The Chiefs had won the Super Bowl on February 12th, and unsurprisingly, the two of you had taken every single available opportunity since then to celebrate his big win behind closed doors – even if they were occasionally car or coat closet doors. And though the chances of getting you pregnant during that window were not exceedingly high, it was certainly far from impossible – plus, he thought immediately of the many times he had teased his brother Jason about his “super sperm,” having gotten his wife Kylie pregnant every other year since they’d been married. And it was a well-known fact that the two brothers shared many genetic characteristics, including their size and their athleticism.

Maybe this particular trait was no different.

Though you were busy actively being sick, you were doing the same calculations in your head.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You were always so careful, so meticulous, so diligent about timing your intimacy with Travis, taking extra precautions during those prime times and consistently warning him verbally when you were ovulating, as you never wanted him to feel like you were trying to “trap” him, even though you’d now been married for nearly a year. He gently poked fun at you and playfully rolled his eyes in those instances, assuring you that he, first of all, would never question your intentions regarding your relationship and, second, would be absolutely thrilled if and when that time came for the two of you.

But in other conversations, outside the bedroom and the heat of the moment, the two of you had mutually agreed that since you yourself weren’t 100% ready to start a family just yet, you would wait. You respected Travis endlessly for that, because anyone who knew him knew how desperately he longed to become a father. But if you didn’t want that right now, that was the end of the discussion – Travis was adamant that nothing was happening in that department until you made the call.

But these past couple of weeks… there had been so much emotion, so much energy, and so much alcohol involved that admittedly, neither of the two of you had given timing or protection a second thought. All that each of you wanted was the other, and nothing – not the calendar nor visiting parents nor the prospect of arriving late to the celebratory parade nor being in Travis’s Range Rover when the desire arose – was going to keep you apart physically. You’d thrown caution to the wind as you enjoyed being in your little fantasyland bubble together, and now, reality was sinking in.

As you finally finished coughing and sputtering, Travis broke from holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail in order to pour a small cup of mouthwash and offer it to you. You graciously accepted and swished it around generously before flushing it away. As you leaned back from the bowl, he gathered you into his arms with a quiet but firm “come ‘ere.” You both sat on the tile, backs against the glass wall of the shower beside you, and he rested his cheek atop your head, looping his long arms around your waist.

“Better?” Travis inquired simply.

You groaned, eyes falling closed as the now-familiar weariness enveloped you again.

“Yeah…” he answered himself with a sigh, sensing your utter exhaustion.

The two of you sat in wordless contemplation for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, you broke the deafening silence.

“Trav?” you croaked.

“Yeah?”

“I think I need to take a pregnancy test…”

He tipped his head backward against the glass, guilt wracking his every cell.

“I think so, too,” he echoed.

After a long debate on the bathroom floor about how to go about obtaining the home tests – with Travis arguing “you wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me, so it should really be on me” against your “I’m way less likely to be recognized in the aisle of the drugstore” – you finally reached a compromise, which was to DoorDash a wide variety of tests straight to your door, avoiding the need for either of you to be seen out in public. Kansas City was a larger city with a small town feel, and most of the time, you loved that about your adopted hometown, but today, the prospect of being recognized sent your anxiety into overdrive. Photos of either of you purchasing pregnancy tests being splashed all over social media two weeks after the Super Bowl was truly the last thing you both needed, especially if it turned out to be all for nothing, a false alarm.

So, instead, you had waited the fifteen long minutes until the bag full of tests arrived at your doorstep, peering through the blinds until the driver was completely out of sight before opening the door and retrieving the delivery. You grabbed a Solo cup from the pantry and quickly climbed the steps back up to your bedroom, where you found Travis sitting in a lounge chair, hands folded together, elbows on knees, chin to chest – obviously deep in thought. He didn’t seem to hear you coming until you purposely rustled the plastic bag. As you held it up weakly, his eyes met yours, and he offered a soft smile which seemed forced.

Travis Kelce forcing a smile. A rarity.

“Secured the bag,” you said quietly, attempting to lighten the mood. “Literally.”

He nodded and slowly stood as you extended a hand, which he grasped in his as you headed into the bathroom together. When you reached the counter, you climbed atop it and shook out the contents of the bag, revealing half a dozen boxes of all shapes, sizes, types, and colors; contained in them were sixteen tests in total. You gazed down at them with pursed lips for a few quiet moments, then Travis cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him.

“Honey, before we do this, I just need to…” he swallowed thickly as his hands found the tops of your thighs, and you could tell that whatever he was about to say was weighing painfully heavy on him. You weren’t used to seeing him so serious, and you reached out a hand to rub his shoulder in support. “Listen… you know I’ve always been excited about the prospect of… well, not just having a baby, but having a baby with you, but… it’s really important to me that you know that we do not have to do this. Not now, not ever. Not if you don’t want to.”

The sincerity in his icy blue eyes was enough to make your heart skip a beat, and you hummed appreciatively, cupping his stubbly cheek in your hand.

“Thank you,” you whispered as he turned your wrist to press a featherlight kiss to the inside of it. “And I can’t tell you how much I love you for that. But… one thing at a time, okay? Let me go take care of this, and we’ll go from there.”

Travis nodded, concern etched on his brow. It wasn’t an expression he commonly wore, and it certainly didn’t suit him.

“Yeah… yeah, alright,” he said, sniffing. “You, um, you want me to stay in here with you, or…”

You shook your head, a small smile at play on your lips.

“No, I’ve been peeing on my own since I was about two, so I’ll do that part myself and report back, captain,” you teased, and Travis offered a shy smirk. You rested your forehead against his. “Okay?”

He nodded, head still pressed to yours.

“Okay,” he said, caressing your jaw before standing up straight to allow you to shimmy down from the counter. He took a few steps toward the door leading into the bedroom, then turned back.

“Hey, one more thing?” he said solemnly. You stared at him expectantly. “No matter what the test says… doesn’t change how bad I fuckin’ love you.”

You stood floored, forcing back tears. “I fuckin’ love you so bad,” you softly concurred.

Then, your normal playful Travis was back at least for a moment as he winked at you, clucked his tongue, and pulled the door closed as he encouraged, “Do your thing, girl.”

You rolled your eyes, then “did your thing” as instructed. You returned to the counter with the plastic cup sufficiently full and opened different tests from four of the boxes that looked the most promising, meticulously following the instructions for each. You turned them all so that the windows were face-down on the counter, washed your hands, then took a deep, shaky breath before opening the door with trembling fingers to find a pacing Travis burning a hole through your bedroom floor. You said his name softly, then tilted your head in the direction of the tests, inviting him back into the bathroom with you while you waited. He met you at the edge of the tub, where he wordlessly pulled you into himself and held you there. You closed your eyes and breathed him in, more grateful than ever that you’d chosen this man as your life partner, and that he had chosen you.

“How long we lookin’ at, sweetness?” Travis asked, resting his chin atop your head, gently swaying the two of you back and forth.

“Longest one takes three minutes,” you answered. “Figured we’d just wait until then and check them all at once.”

You felt him nod and check his Apple watch. He grew quiet again for a few moments, then he heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry for putting you – us – in this position, baby,” he apologized, immediately breaking your heart. “I should’ve been more responsible and mindful in the moment. I just got caught up in you and I… I just, I’m sorry.”

You stood up straight, holding him at arm’s length, your brow creased ruefully as you realized how badly he was beating himself up over this.

“Trav, honey, don’t,” you pleaded. “You did nothing wrong,” you assured, reaching your hand up to rest against his neck. “We both got us into this situation, and to be honest, I wouldn’t change how we got here. We could have been more careful, yeah, but… all I was focused on was being as close to you as possible. I mean, these past couple of weeks with you have been some of the best of my life. I feel closer to you than ever.”

He studied you diligently, rubbing his hands up and down your sides.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, sliding your hand to the nape of his neck and bringing his lips to your level to kiss him softly.

“Yeah,” you whispered in reply.

He drew in a deep breath and squeezed your waist.

“‘Bout ready to check?” he asked timidly.

You nodded, arms falling back to your sides.

“Do it together?” you requested hopefully.

He nodded, too.

“Just like we do everything else,” he replied with conviction, taking your hand in his and pressing a firm kiss to your knuckles. “Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, you approached the counter, four eyes boring into the upside-down test sticks.

“You take two, I take two?” he suggested. You nodded, biting your lip and grasping the two sticks closest to you as he did the same.

“Ready? One…”

“Two…”

“Three…”

Both of you flipped the cheap plastic tests at once, gaping silently down at the counter.

For the past hour since you’d realized you’d missed a period, anxiety, nerves, and even dread had been coursing through your body at the speed of light.

But as soon as you saw those test results, inexplicably, the fear, the worry, the anxiety, the anticipation… it all melted away. The little blue plus sign and the pink double lines and the blinking “YES +” and the word “Pregnant” all laid out in front of you unmistakably brought an unexpected swell of peace and joy to your soul.

Travis’s hand flew to his mouth as he processed the results himself, and his fingers didn’t leave his lips as his eyes stayed fixed on you in quiet anticipation, refusing to react in the way that came naturally to him until he allowed you to react in your own authentic way.

So, when you looked up at him with your chin quivering, eyes rimmed red, tears threatening to spill over at any moment, his heart flipped inside his chest, then sank into his stomach…

But then you smiled.

“Looks like we’re having a Super Bowl baby,” you told him decidedly, starting to giggle.

His brows shot to the top of his forehead, his hand slowly falling away from his mouth.

“Really? You want to?” he asked softly, and you could tell by his tone that he was still focusing all his energy on suppressing his pure, unadulterated excitement. You nodded. “You’re sure this is what you want?” he confirmed, cocking his head as he surveyed you closely. You nodded again and stepped closer so that your feet were planted between his, leaning your body into him.

“I’m sure, Trav,” you promised as he tenderly combed some of your hair behind your ear. “I honestly wasn’t sure until we flipped the tests over, but… I’m sure. I’m ready for this with you, Travis. It feels right. Let’s have a baby.”

At that, he allowed the floodgates to open. His broad shoulders began to wrack with quiet sobs as his arms folded you against his chest. You cried along with him, sharing in his relief, his elation, his bliss.

“I love you so much,” he choked out between shuddering breaths. “Fuck, I love you so much. You’re everything to me. You always have been, but this… this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you.”

You smiled into his pecs, sniffling. “I love you, too,” you replied, pulling away just far enough so that you could meet his eyes. He wiped away your tears with the pads of his thumbs as you continued. “Thank you for the way you handled this. There’s nobody I’d rather do this with than you.”

Travis beamed and leaned in for a kiss, certain that he’d never received a more meaningful compliment, and certain that he had never been more in love with you.

#travis kelce #kissing kelce #my writing #travis kelce fic #travis kelce fanfiction #travis kelce fanfic #nfl fic #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

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shadowwolflady · 3 months

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Hatake Kakashi Headcanons

Alright. It's time for some of my husband's headcanons. I consider Kakashi my husband. So I have to make some headcanons for him.

Known

Birthday September 15th

Zodiac Virgo

Height 181 cm

Weight 67.5 kg

Blood type O

Hair color silver/gray

Eye color gray

Missions completed 1,141

197 D

190 C

414 B

298 A

42 S

Fighting

Jutsu: Tai and Nin

Kekkei: Sharingan

Hidden ability: Kamui

Style: Tracking/Assassination specialist

General

Reads Icha Icha in public

This man is an introvert.

Favorite colors: black, grey, green (neutral colors)

Work smarter not harder

Is late to things that aren't important

Sees KIA stone in morning

Appreciates his comrades more than he lets on

If you can't find him, he is reading or working out. Most likely reading.

If you REALLY can't find him, he is trying to hide and keep away from people.

He is straightforward and doesn't beat around the bush. Especially when it is something he likes.

Kakashi does smoke, only when extremely tired and stressed, like after a tough mission. Other than that, he won't smoke.

Will. Do. 400. Crunches. For. The. Fun. Of. It. Basically any kind of exercise for the hell of it.

His spacial awareness is insanely keen.

The moment he walks into a place or room, he already has a plan in case things go awry. He has an exit path separate from the front. He already has tabs on civilians and potential allies. On top of that, he already can sense those who have ill intent.

Plays dumb so he doesn't have to interact or get involved.

Has hyper focused on something and missed a conversation point.

Has fallen out of bed.

Has fallen asleep with his gear on. Basically face plant into his bed the moment he got home. And didn't wake up until 12 hours later to go to the bathroom.

He always throws up an aloof facade so he throws his opponents off. Acting bored or disinterested is the best way to rile up an opponent's anger, which can cause them to lose a fight.

Just the fact he shows up to something or for someone is a big deal. It means he supports them or it is important to him in a way, even if he is forced.

He gets really quiet and withdrawn when tired. Usually his book isn't even out by this point.

He gets more irritable when tired. He tries to keep his comments to himself and mouth shut.

Has massive respect for kunoichi. It isn't easy in the shinobi world and a woman has to be bad ass if they want to achieve recognition.

He is a stickler for teamwork and comradery.

He has a favorite tree he likes to sit in so he can watch over people while he reads.

He has sharp canines.

Food

Favorite food Miso with Eggplant with salt boiled saury

Can cook

Likes simple meals

Doesn't like sweets

More savory food

Fish, beef, chicken, pork. In that order.

Can handle most spices.

Fast eater

Least favorite anything fried or sweet

Drinks

Social drinker

Can hold his liquor

It is rare, but in the mornings he will have Coffee, Black

Tea

Water

Behavior

He is a gentleman, walks ladies home at night and makes sure his drunk friends get home.

He will get cats out of trees for civilians.

He will help the elderly with groceries.

Calm, cool, collected.

He is quiet and analytic, he likes to stay in the background and unnoticed. He will step in when he feels like no one will be able to handle the situation.

He is usually reading or day dreaming.

He usually speaks tactfully. But he does say what is on his mind.

Originally, he was strict and by the book. But after Obito's death, he became carefree and prioritized team safety over success of the mission.

He is reluctant to let anyone close to him. He fears losing them.

Modest about his abilities.

Senses

He has a heightened sense of smell and hearing.

He has a sensitive chakra network, able to pick up on people around him and distinguish friend and foe by their chakra signature.

Hygiene

Showers at night

Smells like sandalwood and timber, earthy undertone

He brushes his teeth with mint and mouthwash

He shaves every morning.

Comb? What's that? Maybe once a week or so.

Fighting Style

Kakashi uses a ton of kicks to keep opponents at bay from getting too close to him.

INSANE core strength.

Fluid movements.

Constantly adapting to the fight, changing grips and angles of attack.

Will use chakra as a last resort.

Will use Sharingan as the ultimate last resort.

Will prefer to knock out or render unable to move. Will terminate as a last resort or if opponent is known in bingo book.

Has dealt with bingo book individuals before.

He usually waits to strike.

His Anbu training takes over and he strikes fast and lethal over power.

Lots of his fighting is based off Gai.

Kakashi knows the strongest and most powerful muscles in the body are the legs, which is why he uses them.

Sleep

He tends to sleep on his back.

He will wind up on his side.

He is a light sleeper.

Has insomnia.

He does like to nap during the day. Usually in a tree or outside. But he has napped at home.

He sleeps with a kunai under his pillow.

If he can't sleep he will read.

If that doesn't work, he will go for a walk around the village.

He enjoys taking naps with his ninken.

Chakra

First chakra affinity is Lightning

Second is Earth

Can wield all elements due to sharingan

Mental

Has PTSD

Depression

Insomnia, hence naps.

DISSOCIATION

He will have night terrors to the point he will purposely walk around the village to avoid sleep.

Has scrubbed his skin to the point of bleeding so he could get the memory of blood off.

I will post more, but this is the general list I have for him.

My other list is for that when he is with my OC, Rai.

He is so precious! He has my heart! I love him so much!

#kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #kakashi #anbu kakashi #kakashi sensei #headcanons #kakashi headcanons #naruto manga #naruto shippuden #kakashi brainrot

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mara-tevith-solo · 1 year

Text

Learn Something New

Reader One-shot with Hunter

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!Reader

Rated: 18+ NSFW

Warnings: SMUT! This is a Heat fic so be warned. Some angst but not much, established relationship, female reader, not A/B/O sorry

Words: 2.8k+

When you had woken up that morning, you hadn't felt quite right. You had a very slight fever and you were exhausted despite having slept decently well in one of the cockpit seats, but you shrugged it off as a biproduct of working with Mos Eisley locals during the last job. It wasn't like any of the others could get sick, even Omega was engineered with an amazing immune system. So, you'd taken some painkillers and resolved to go about your day as usual. Hunter smiled softly as he handed you a cup of caf soon after you had all entered the parlor, his gaze warm though his pupils were dilated more than normal "Are you alright?" You asked softly before taking a sip, humming at the caffeinated goodness as it warmed you from the inside.

He took a step closer, crowding into your personal space, his nose almost pressed to your forehead as you both looked at each other, mutually surprised by his actions "I'm feelin' alright, cyare." He assured you before taking a moment to press a tender kiss on your forehead "You're just harder to resist today." He pulled away with a teasing wink, laughing softly as you stuck your tongue out at him.

"Alright, alright!" The grating voice of Cid broke the moment, left it shattered like glass as everyone's attention focused on her "No romance in the bar, yeesh! I've got a job for ya, just a quick delivery to Tatooine."

"Awww! We were just there!" Wrecker complained with a loud groan right as you began feeling very not right, suddenly leaky and sore even though there was no real reason to. It was too early in the month for your period, and the last mission had been extremely smooth, not even a verbal spat was had between Echo and Wrecker.

Hunter seemed to know the very moment the change happened, his warm hand pressing against your lower back, comforting and welcome "Are you alright?" He asked, his brow furrowed low as he studied you worriedly.

"Ya," You nodded with a tight smile, not realizing that you had began leaning against the bar, the cold metal soothing the heat you were beginning to exude. "Perfectly fine." You lied, not wanting to worry him even though there was a decent chance he could tell you were lying.

He frowned and opened his mouth to call you out, but Cid beat him to it "Uh-huh, sure. You look like a wreck, Y/n. You should sit this one out." Even when expressing concern she still sounded so demanding and offended.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cid," You deadpanned at the Trandoshan who just shrugged back at you "I'm fine, really. Nothing some painkillers and more caf can't fixxxxx... oh kark." A cramp rolled through you as you spoke, bowling you over as you clutched at you lower stomach, trying to relieve the new ache.

"You're not fine, Y/n." Hunter's firm voice was filled with concern as he quickly scooped you up and held you tightly to his chest, the motion triggering another cramp and a soft keening whine that only he could hear. His scent invaded your nose, smelling of musk and sweat with something almost herbal and spicy underneath, making you drunk as you pressed your face into his neck with another soft keen. "Y/n and I will sit this mission out." Hunter's words were strong, but his grip on you increased, holding you almost possessively.

Wrecker groaned again "Missions aren't the same without her!" He complained like a child, though you knew that he meant well.

"Statistically, if a Peléian is falling ill, there are only two causes, and both require rest. Get better soon, Y/n. We'll see you both when we return." Tech rattled off with a concerned frown as he adjusted his goggles, studying Y/n's change in behavior but not voicing his suspicions, Hunter was already on edge with concern and he did not want to make it worse.

Without another word Hunter was leaving the bar behind and going up the stairs to the apartment that all of you shared, bee-lining straight for your shared quarters and depositing you on your bed. His hand felt cool against your forehead as he pulled back enough to check your temperature, frowning as you tried to nuzzle into his hand "You're burning up, cyare." He rumbled with worry, trying to pull back to get you some ice but you clung to his hand like a lifeline, a whine leaving your throat as you looked up at him pleading shining in your eyes.

"Please Hunter, please stay with me. I don't know what's happening." You confessed as your legs pressed together. Your core was quivering with need, gnawing with want that wasn't going to let itself go ignored for very long. It was loud and insistent. A cramp rolled through your lower belly, making you curl into yourself slightly with a keen, your mind swiftly becoming drunk with desire, Hunter's scent filling you again. "Please." You begged, trying to pull him closer.

He could smell the change as soon as it happened, it was sweet and alluring, filling him with desire and need that shot straight to his cock. He knew that he needed to leave you in that moment, knew that if he didn't he'd fuck you senseless, and you were sick. He couldn't do that to you, he couldn't wear your already waning strength like that. You needed to rest, like Tech had said. "I'll be back with some water, mesh'la, just rest." He promised quickly and gently pulled himself from your hold, damn near running out of the room the moment he could, his cock straining painfully under his codpiece. He could hear your wordless begs through the door, could still smell your arousal, but he pulled himself away from the door and retreated to the kitchen on the other side of the apartment, pulling out his comms. He needed Tech's expertise before he karked it all up to hell. "Tech," his voice was rough even to his ears, his breaths sharp as his body strained to keep smelling your delicious scent like a man possessed "Tech, come in." He ordered, trying, and very nearly failing, to keep himself in check.

"Hunter, I wasn't expecting you to contact me this soon. We have not even left yet." Tech's voice filtered from the comm though he wasn't being unkind about it.

"Tech, she's burning up and her scent changed. What medicine does she need?" Your smell became stronger in that moment, permeating the entire apartment and he tried to breath through his mouth to stall his inevitable reaction, but tasting it... oh stars it made it worse. His self control was hanging by a thread as it was, but that thread was getting pretty thin and frail.

He could imagine you on the bed, all laid out and on display just for him, moaning with desire even though he hadn't even touched you yet, just watched your pretty pussy as it drooled for his cock. He wanted a taste. He groaned into his fist, his self control nearly none existent. His next actions were going to hinge solely on whatever Tech told him, and even then he might have to call in a droid to help. "There is only one thing it can be," Tech's voice broke through the lust filled haze in Hunter's mind, bringing him back to clarity even if just for a moment. "She's in Heat."

Hunter's eyes widened at the news "What? Wouldn't she know how to prepare us for that?" There was a touch of aggression to his voice that he tried to reign in, though it wasn't directed towards anyone per say, it was mostly directed towards his need for restraint.

"Well, that would depend on whether or not her mother was able to teach her what to watch for before giving her to the Order. From what I have been able to research, most do not because most that are given do not find their Mates." Tech's words rang through his head as he stared at his own bedroom door, his heart hurting for his Mate at the realization that she was expected to never find him, how close they came to never finding each other. How she was never taught to prepare or manage herself if she ever had.

"How do I help her?" Hunter's voice was ragged with emotion as he spoke, his mind made up that he was going to help her, no matter what it took. She would not weather the storm alone.

"I'm sure you know the answer to that, Hunter. Just remember that this is when she is at her most fertile, and both of you need to stay hydrated. Don't do anything in my room. Signing off." Tech's voice held some amusement at his Sergeant as he spoke, though he kept it purposely brief. He could only imagine how tortured Hunter was as they spoke.

Hunter set the comm on the kitchen table and set about preparing a kit for the both of them, his armor becoming more and more uncomfortable with every minute as he filled canteens and grabbed a packet of nerf jerky before marching straight into your room. He almost dropped everything on the floor at the very sight of you, barely hearing the door close behind him as all the blood rushed straight to his already throbbing cock. You were completely bare on top of the blankets, covered in a soft sheen of sweat as one hand gripped desperately at your thigh, the other was trying to grant you some relief, your fingers furiously rubbing your clit as breathy moans filled the air. The room was saturated with the scent of your arousal and need, blinding him to anything and everything else but you. "Hunter..." You begged breathlessly, your eyes locked on him, your pupils blown as wide as they could be despite the bright overhead light "need you in me. Please Hunter, please baby." Your voice broke him from the spell, calling him to action in a flurry of movement. He was off balance as he practically threw his armor and clothes off, hopping on one foot at one point when his pantleg got stuck over his ankle.

His skin was hot against yours as he took a spot between your legs, eyes locked on your fingers as they slowed their ministrations to your clit, reveling in his attention as you bit your lip. "So pretty, cyare, such a pretty pussy." He groaned against the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, so close and yet so far away from where you needed him. He smiled as you moaned under his lips, every cell in his being begging him to taste you, even if it was just one lick, he needed you on his tongue. You smelled so sweet, so ready. So fucking needy for him. "Open your legs for me, mesh'la." He ordered gruffly as he licked his lips in anticipation "Show me where you need my cock."

You had to readjust how you were laying, but you were quick to obey, hands gripping your thighs, holding them up under his hungry gaze. He groaned before diving in, lapping at you like a man starved, his tongue carving broad strokes through your folds in a bid to collect every drop of your sweet nectar. It was almost too good for him as he began to buck into the mattress, his cock needing something while he fucked you with his tongue. He knew he wasn't going to last long if he allowed himself to continue as he was, making himself pull away from your glistening folds and climb up your body like a predator stalking its prey, every movement carefully controlled so that he didn't accidently hurt you in his excitement. You pulled him into a kiss with a hand tangled in his hair, pulling gently as you moaned into his mouth, sharing in your taste on his tongue. He entered you in one swift motion, hilting immediately as you arched your back and screamed his name. His mouth latched onto your neck as he kept thrusting into you at a devastating pace, his tip hitting electrifying places inside of you as his teeth nipped and clung to your pulse point. His name was a chant, a prayer, a hymn of praise as he continued to fuck you. When he pulled out, you wanted to sob at the loss, his warmth leaving you as he sat back onto his knees and grabbed your thighs. He growled as he flipped you over, tempted to just fuck you into the mattress, but primal need won out as he grabbed onto your hips and pulled you up, presenting you to him again.

He was tempted to taste you again as your pussy drooled in anticipation for his cock, glistening slick audibly dropping onto the sheets making his heart skip a beat. His head was barely past your folds before your were rocking back on him with a filthy mewl. It was all he could do but watch you swallow his cock as though he'd starved you of it. It didn't take him long to begin meeting you thrust for thrust, the pleasure making his eyes roll back in his head every time you tightened your walls around him, milking his cock every time he pulled almost completely out. With every thrust in, his balls slapped just hard enough against your poor clit that you squealed, every single time. With every thrust your pussy made the most deliciously filthy squelches that he'd ever heard. Every single one was like a symphony composed just for him, and he loved every single one. He lifted your hips slightly, changing the angle just enough to hit a very special spot inside of you, making you see stars and scream his name, slick gushing around his cock as the squelches became absolutely obscene. "Want me to fill you with my cum, Y/n?" He growled through grit teeth, feeling the end approaching "Want me to fill you full? Make you pregnant?" You moaned loudly as you nodded into the sheets, looking at him from the corner of your eye, trying to communicate how much you needed his cum "Oh you like that don't you?" He laughed breathlessly, his rhythm beginning to falter as the tip of his cock assaulted your cervix, bringing you to a whole new height of pleasure. "Gonna make you so full of my seed you can't, ummfff, can't help but become round with my child! I can just, mmmghh, just see you now..." He continued, the fantasy flashing before his eyes, the idea of you carrying his child awakening something new inside of him, something basal and wanting. "Fuck, Y/n! Gonna... FUCK!" He came with a roar, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you screamed in pleasure with him as he erupted. You clamped around him, not wanting a single drop to escape as he continued to pump you full, holding you tight to him.

It took him a whole minute to finish coming, like the man had been saving up just for you. He coaxed you down on your side, his softening cock slipping out of you as you moved, some of his cum leaking out. You whined at the loss but all he could do was stare as he caught his breath, the sight was something so erotic and intimate, and he was sharing it with you. You instantly cuddled up to him when he laid next to you, his heart thundering in his chest. "I love you." You murmured into his flesh, your ear against his chest as you listened to his heart beat.

"I love you too." He hummed with a broad smile, holding you tighter before he dropped off into an unexpected nap. He woke some time later to you pumping his cock languidly, your movements unhurried as he hummed, the scent of your need in the air again, making his cock throb in your palm "Again?" He chuckled, the sound quickly dropping into a hiss of pleasure as you began paying more attention to his drooling tip.

"Yes, please, Hunter. Please fill me with your cum again. I'm so fucking addicted to it!" You begged as you climbed up onto your knees, the movements wafting the faint scent of his drying cum around you both.

"C'mere." He ordered, a hand already dripping your hip to guide you as you eagerly straddled his hips. As he slipped inside of you with a throaty groan, he was resolved to fuck the Heat out of you, no matter how long it took, no matter how many times he had to cum in your willing pussy. He'd do it happily. It was one addiction he could get behind.

#star wars #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch #hunter x reader #jedi reader #alien reader #Smut #tbb hunter

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ask-sibverse · 9 months

Text

Prompt: hiking date with Killer (As much fun as explicitly diabetic related situations are, it's nice to do some things where the main focus isn't diabetes. I do have another diabetes focused drabble planned, but for now, fluff! Mostly.) Set in the same version of things as this

TW: violent intrusive thoughts

(Like this? Want more? Send a prompt!)

Cgm, check. Pump set to activity mode (one of the author's favorite damn settings about the Omnipod), check. A boatload of granola bars and other low blood sugar snacks to shove in your inventory, check. Plenty of water? Got it.

"I think I'm ready," you said.

Killer had suddenly texted you that he's taking you on a hike, before immediately backtracking and asking if it was too much with your diabetes. You tried to resist the urge to smack him as you reminded him you swim regularly in the summer and did martial arts several times a week for years. You know how to balance diabetes and exercise.

So here you were now and hour later about to go on a date with Killer. Was it a date? He hadn't called it one. It could just be a friendly, platonic outing. You shouldn't make things weird.

But you were ready to go, either way. You walked out of your room to find Killer on the couch with your cat. Cats are tiny hunters and Killer is, well... Yeah. So it didn't really surprise you that he got along great with your cat. Said cat was currently purring in his lap.

"I'm ready to go."

"I'm trapped, go on without meeeee."

You stared at him. "I don't even know where we're supposed to be hiking."

"Oh yeah. But the caaaaat."

You snorted and scooped up your cat. He meowed in complaint but let you move him off the murder skeleton. "Lets get going, shall we?"

He nodded eagerly. "You ever been to Mount Ebbott?"

"No, I don't think I have."

"Its not too horrible a hike, and the view is great from the entrance to the Underground."

"Okay, let me get my car keys."

"Why bother? You've got someone with you who can teleport."

"I keep forgetting that."

Killer snorted and extended his hand. "Hang on tight."

Shortcuts were sometimes more disorienting than portals. Portals you at least were passing through something to get from point A to point B, shortcuts you were one place and then you blinked and were somewhere else. So to suddenly be in the woods at the base of Mt Ebbott took a moment for your mind to catch up with.

Killer started dragging you up the path as soon as you collected yourself. It was a beautiful, sunny day. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and it was just the two of you on the mountain.

"Is it usually this peaceful?" You asked. "I don't think anyone is up here."

"Depends on the AU, and the time of year," Killer said. "But yeah, no one but us here right now." He paused. It seemed like thoughts were running through his mind. "I could do anything to you, and no one would know."

"Killer."

"I wouldn't, I promise!"

"Killer."

You sighed. "What's going through your head?"

"... That no one would hear you scream. That I could chase you through the woods and kill you, watch my knives make you into a pincushion and no one would find out until it was too late. But I won't do that, promise!"

You put a hand on his shoulder. "Do we need to go back? It sounds like your mind is getting to you."

"No! Ill be fine, I want to show you the view from the top!"

"Alright, I trust you."

So you filled the silence to give him a distraction. Talking about your hobbies and cats, asking what he and the gang had been up to. It seemed to work, at least to distract him if it didn't fix things. You almost didn't notice the entrance to the Underground until you were about to fall in, Killer having to grab you by the collar of your jacket.

"Don't fall in. You're not a Frisk." he snorted. You stuck your tongue out before turning.

The view took your breath away. You could see all of Ebott City from here and the surrounding valley. You could imagine how incredible it must feel to see this for the first time after centuries kept underground.

"This is..."

"Incredible, yeah. I saw it a few times before my human really lost it."

You squeezed his hand gently. "I hope Chara doesn't reset here, I'd hate for everyone to lose this." Especially your friends

"Eh, who knows." He shrugged. "Don't have a high opinion of most of those brats. Or humans in general."

"What about me?"

"You're... Different. Special."

#intrusive thoughts tw #killer sans #killer sans x reader #t1dreader #undertale

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waterfallofspace · 1 year

Note

Could you do 72 for r/anpo and p/oe with p/oe as the sick one

Thank you for the ask~~ I can indeed!! First time attempting them, so hopefully it's enjoyable~! (also gotta give credit to onetrickponi for her incredible idea of Karl's tail inducing sneezes from a wav she did that I've absolutely used here, hope that's alright~) 1.9k words, prompt 72, story under cut! 72. Person A hasn’t been sleeping due to work, and they of course get sick. Despite Person B’s wishes, Person A continues to sneak out of bed and stay up late to get more work done, and Person B is not happy. (Slight warning for anxiety and high fevers, just in case anyone doesn't like those!)

~~~~~~~

The faint light coming in through the window is more than enough for Poe to work with. Pen scratching against paper. Bathing in the moonlight. This has always been his favourite way to compose a novel. Something about the way the light feels soft, and the motions of your hand as you form words, it just feels right.

A drop of sweat makes its journey across his forehead, lunging for the paper until he catches it in his sleeve. ‘The fever is probably getting worse…’ His thoughts are cloudy, but somehow it’s making the words even easier to grasp. As if they’re practically begging to flow onto the page, climbing from his mind down into his pen.

“Poe.”

The noise drags Poe out of the daze, tearing the paper as he manages to drag his eyes up to greet the source. The source in question is wearing a scowl and leaning against the doorframe, eyes shadowed by the hat drooping over his face.

“R- Ranpo… I was- eh’kschh’ieew-! Sorry- I was just, uh- hh’ekzzziew-tezzshh’iew-! Sorry- just w- working on… something…”

“What you should be doing is coming back to bed. I don’t even need to use deduction to see that you’re sick.”

“No, no, I’m quite alright. I’m simpl- simply… heH’keDZZshh’iew-! Sorr-”

“On top of that, I’m pretty sure I remember you promising to sleep tonight. Something about how you haven’t slept in three days, if I’m not mistaken. Which I never am.”

“I’m absolutely fine, I just need to- uhh’dEZZhhh’ieew-! finish a few more chapters and my latest masterpiece will be completed! It will astound you, you won- won’t… notagain- uh’gzzsshh’iew-! eh’kNGzsshhieew-! Sorry…”

Ranpo tilts his head, emerald green eyes revealing themselves. It’s all Poe can do to keep himself from blushing. ‘It seems no matter how many times I see them, I’m never prepared… I wonder if he… feels the same about mi- no. Focus, gotta convince him I can still wri-’ The thought is cut off by Ranpo’s boot tapping against the hardwood floor.

“What I will or won’t do is irrelevant. You aren’t able to complete a full sentence without sneezing.”

“That’s nohuHh-! not true. See? I executed that sentence to perfection without int- interuHH-! huH’KnGT’shiew-!”

“Without interruption?”

“eNGt-! ih’dknzzt-! Sorry… Correct, Ranpo. As usual.”

The words are laced with jealousy, but they can both hear the admiration simmering just before the surface, waiting for a chance to be expressed. Ranpo seems content to accept the praise without acknowledgment, focusing on the task at hand. ‘Just like a true detective. Not sidetracked by mere personal matters. I was never able to match that determination…’

“You’ve been falling into the same pattern for weeks, staying up until you pass out, sleeping for a full day, then repeating. We’re both smart enough to know schedules like that lead to illness.”

“I’m.. smart enough..?”

Ranpo lets the hat dip back over his eyes, his face returning to neutral. His hand extends, Karl chittering from atop his shoulders.

“Back to bed now and I’ll let you off with a warning.”

“But-”

“Besides, I’m tired, and Karl won’t let me sleep unless you come too.”

Said raccoon chitters again, crawling from Ranpo’s arm to Poe’s shoulders. ‘Two against one, this is hardly fair…’ Poe protests, oblivious to the lack of noise from his mouth as the thought stalls itself in his head. Despite this, as Ranpo’s hand brushes his own, he can feel every ounce of resolve draining from his body.

“Bed.”

“Okay, Ranpo, you win. Again.”

Confirmation of success seems to be all Ranpo was looking for, as he turns and walks down the hall. As if there was a string tying them together, Poe finds himself unable to resist the urge to follow. It’s not until he’s laying in bed next to Ranpo does the fever finally bring out the sleep hiding behind his eyes. Muffling a sneeze with his pillow, Poe starts to pull himself from the sheets.

“heh’mmMDZShh’oo-! Sorry… I’ll sleep on the couch-”

“No way. It’s your house after all, I’m just staying over. Besides, Karl will leave too, and I want my cuddle time with him.”

Poe lets a whimper break free as Ranpo’s arms seem to crush the life out of his dear friend, ‘Though strangely, Karl seems to have no problems with this arrangement.’ Instead of fighting, Karl’s snuggling deeper into Ranpo’s chest, breathy snores starting to pour out of both of them. Feeling sleep start dragging his eyelids shut, Poe’s own breath soon evens out, joining the ensemble with a congested tone of his own.

~~~

The air seems to burn as it infiltrates his lungs with each inhale. Poe leans against the wall, legs growing heavier with each step, but determination pulls him through. ‘That dream… it was perfect… I know what the novel needs… I know what will- will finally impress Ranpo…’ It hadn’t been more than a handful of hours later that sleep had relinquished its grasp of him, being replaced by a feverish mania as plotlines and characters seem to beat against his skull from the inside. This is why he sits at his desk again, even the moonlight dulled as the clouds gather outside his window.

Pen glides across the paper once more, each word leaving a deeper taste in Poe’s mouth. Ink mixes with sweat as his hands begin to shake. Only half aware of the world, Poe finds himself unable to process the sweat lining his brow being anything other than a hindrance to the plotlines swimming through his mind. Each word on the page seems to dip further into illegibility, moving away from writing and closer to drawings, mindless scribbles as his vision fades along with them.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I have… I have to write this… it’s- hh’deZZshhh’iuh-! my best work… my best work ever… it’ll be unsolvable!”

Ranpo’s breath is warm against his neck as the detective leans over to catch a glance of the paper. Poe finds his hands stalling at the sensation, even one extra stimuli sending his brain careening into overdrive, deeper into the fevered abyss, unable to stop thinking, but equally unable to start writing again.

“More like unreadable. Poe, even I can barely decipher what words you’ve written here.”

“It’s messy, but it’s some of the best writing I’ve ever done. I s- see… hH’gndjsshh’aa-! Sorry- I see the world so clearly, it’s almost as if I’m the one transported into it. eh’dnTZShh’oo-! Sorry. No one will be able to crack the mystery, not even you!”

A cool wave washes across Poe’s face, a moan pulling free from his lips as Ranpo’s hand finds what it was looking for on his forehead.

“That’s the fever talking. You need to sleep.”

“hH’INkgt-! djZnnGt-! ehhA’knDt’uhh-! huH’AnGXt-!”

“Bless you, don’t do that. You’re only gonna-”

“hehHh-! dnjSZHh’oo-! S- Sorry… haiHH-! eHSHh’aa-! hH’InkGtzz’iuh-!”

“Bless you again, Poe.”

“Th- hh’knzshhh’oo-! kezzshh-tezsshhh’oo-! Thank you. S- sorry…”

The apology melts into a cough, whistling notes sounding out between each breath, only broken up by the sound of pen against paper as he attempts to continue this chapter. Each word is violent, looking as if the person forming them had never written before, lines uneven and frantic as the cough brings tremors through his fingers.

“You don’t sound good.”

“I’m f- fine… I need to finish… need to finish this chapter…”

“I apologize for the methods I must resort to.”

The words fall on deaf ears, Poe’s brain being submerged into feverish concentration once more. He doesn’t notice Ranpo turning away and whispering something to the raccoon perching atop his shoulders. Nor does he notice Karl climbing up his back until a soft paw steps against his hand, pen cracking on the paper.

“Karl? What are yo- GuuHhH-!”

A single swish of fluff against his face is enough to break Poe out of his trance, buzzing starting to spread up to his ears as the tickle surges. Ranpo’s arm intertwines with his, Karl climbing back onto his shoulder as he pulls the writer up. Poe attempts to aim away from either of them with the fit he cannot seem to subdue.

“hh’DjZshh’oo-! aiYZShh’aa-! hH’KEZzshh’oo-!”

“Bless you.”

“C- can’t- dnGt’Zzshh’oo-! hehHh-! hH’INZSHhoo-!”

“I know. Bless you.”

Poe feels something soft being pressed against his face, his body sinking into the bed as he’s sat down. ‘What’s pr- pressing on my fa- face… I need to… I’m- I can’t..’

“Blow.”

“Wh- hAH-! What? hH’iNgT-! kndZnt-!”

“Blow your nose, Poe. It won’t end until you do. I’ve got you, just blow.”

Doing as he’s told, Poe feels the fever swell against his cheeks, moving up into his ears. ‘Or maybe that’s not the fever… am I blushing..? I can’t… I can’t tell…’ His voice is drowned out, even in his own head, a deep fog overtaking his conscious thought.

“I’m s- sorry Ranpo…”

A soft hand brushes against his face, Poe practically melting into the touch as his hair is swept away. His vision clears, for more reason than one, as Ranpo’s eyes stare back into his. This exchange only lasts for a minute, but it starts to play on repeat in Poe’s mind as Ranpo rests his forehead against Poe’s, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll read the book the instant you finish it. I promise. But only if you’re not sick while writing it.”

“B- but…”

“You want to be able to give me your best, right? Don’t I deserve that?”

“Of course y- hH’dzzshh’oo-! you do-”

“Being sick is not your best. Let me take care of you, once you’re better, you can write it.”

Waves of emotion seem inclined to suck Poe into their current, he’s barely able to keep his head above their waters. Guilt and anxiety claw at his legs, pulling him into the ground. And yet, something softer frees him, a wave of pride and love bringing air back to his battered lungs. ‘He thinks I have a best… something he wants to see… and… he wants to take care of me.’

“Besides, no one will be able to read it if you keep writing like that. It looks like you were driving consistently through potholes while attempting to transcribe a conversation from a language you don’t speak.”

“W- well that’s not very kind… but it was quite visual.”

Ranpo laughs, giving Karl’s head some scratches as he drapes himself across the bed next to Poe, raising an eyebrow as he tosses out-

“Maybe I should write the book instead.”

Poe freezes, eyes peeking out from the curtain of hair as they widen. Terror infiltrates his dazed mind, fighting against the urge to give Ranpo whatever he desires, a war neither side can win. The battle, however, is quickly cut short as Ranpo places his hand on Poe’s arm, a gentle touch that quiets all voices but his.

“It was a joke, Poe. Now, let’s get you back to sleep. I need my rest, and you’re keeping me up.”

“Alright, Ranpo. Th- thank you.”

“No need for thanks! But~ there is need for rewards. You owe me at least some chocolates. And some lollies. Oh- and more of those gummy sushi things you ordered internationally, those were good… Oh! And-”

A smile spreads across Poe’s face as Ranpo goes on, the haze in his mind starting to gently overtake the last piece of his consciousness as the sheets beneath him start to encase him in their soft embrace, matched only by Ranpo’s softer touch against his arm. Poe manages to get out one last sentence before sleep wins out.

“Whatever you want…”

“I’m holding you to that!”

#waterfallasks #waterfallwrites #thank you so much for the request!! i really enjoyed trying these two #theyre just SO adorable i have so much love for them and their dynamics #to anyone who reads this- thank you!! and i hope you enjoy <3 #b/sd #r/anpo #p/oe #r/anpoe #snz #snzkink

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hanniejji · 2 years

Note

I GOT IDEA FOR MAPLE AFTER THIS EVENT OMGOMG!!! Mihoyo ily mwa mwa!!

Btw ik you said you will focus on writing other things but i need to write this BEFORE I FORGET THIS😓😒

It says that Kazuha's mother died, now i have 2 ideas. What if Kazuha's mother died while giving birth to Maple or what if their mother died of illness.

For now we will do the second one 🥳!

So yk when you did au where Kazuha left Maple with Kamisato siblings?

Let's say some months after Kazuha left, Maple started to feel weird. They would get more tired, even whitout doing physically hard job, they would get sick often,it's hard for them to fall asleep and they feel weak in general. Maple at first ignore it, thinking it was nothing, but after 4 weeks they told Kamisato siblings about how weird they feel lately. Ayato called a private doctor (i bet they have a private doctor) to check what is wrong with Maple.

AND TA DA!!

Maple got the same illness that their mother had, doctor said that he will keep and eye on Maple and check them here and there to see if it is bad, and that Maple should rest for a while.

(ofc Ayato wrote a letter or smth for kazuha to inform him, but that everything seems fine for now and he shouldn't be too worried)

It was going well, everything seem normal, but one day....it just...went down, you know. Maple suddenly felt worse than before. Maple got a high fever, started to feel really weak and they barely got any sleep. Their condition got worse everyday.

At that time visions hunt decree ended and Kazuha was excited to see his beloved sibling after so long! After battle,first location he went was Kamisato estate. He was expecting to see Maple doing well and happy. But...he was wrong!😱 When he entered the estate he was meet with Ayaka's (we love her!!!♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️) sad eyes and Ayato right beside her. He asked where is Maple.

"Kaedehara we- *sigh*about Maple, last 2 days they... their condition got worse and doctor said that,well..."

"They don't have much time left." Ayato finished Ayaka's sentence." Their room is at the end of hall on right."

(Let me tell you, kazuha was faster than Sonic at that moment)

When Kazuha opened the door he saw Maple laying on bed,sleeping. Their look so...weak. Kazuha kneeled beside them, holding their tiny hands in his. Their hands were so cold and their breathing was heavy, they were slightly shaking and they had sweat on their forehead.At that moment Kazuha literally felt like a damn sword went through his chest. He didn't know what to do, he just stared at them. He felt like his whole world was destroyed.He didn't want to believe it, Maple is so young and innocent, they didn't deserve that.

"Nii-san?" He was bring back when he heard his little sibling's voice. His little Maple, his everything. They sound so weak, he barely heard them.

"is this really you? Am I dreaming?"

He kissed their forehead and laid his bandaged hand on their warm cheek. "H-hey there...No, you're not dreaming, it's me...it's all alright now, its gonna be o-okay." He didn't notice tears running down his cheek, he was to focused on Maple.

"Rest for now,okay? I'll tell you everything about my travels once you get b-better, alright?"

"Okay... goodnight nii-san..."

"Goodnight little one, p-please get better soon."

My this is so long for what 😧 yeah there is probably so much grammar mistakes but eh. NO CUZ THIS IS LONG I DIDN'T MEAN IT TO BE THAT LONG. Have a good day/night!!! <3

-🍑

fuck you

#that's it that's the response #fuck you affectionately #asks #nonnie #maple.ask #🍑.hive

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prpfs · 11 months

Note

🫀🕊️

alright, y'all know the drill! obligatory warning: this post might be long!

i am 18, literate, and usually write multi-para, but i can go up to novella if needed. i can provide a writing sample to anyone who might need/want it! i use realistic faceclaims, so please be willing to do that! i also include smut in my rps (characters preferred position ranges, but i'm looking for writers who write tops or switches currently), so don't interact if that's not something you're interested in!

i'm currently looking to plot with someone, and brainstorm some ideas based on topics we both like! i'd like this to be an oc rp, and i'm a huge fan of creating characters with my partner! i can do: m/m, m/f, f/f, m/nb, f/nb, and nb/nb! i can also do an rp that involes multiple muses!

i'm interested in a range of topics, from lighthearted to dead dove! below are some of the topics i'm interested in (bolded = most interested in)!

queer focused stories, neurodivergence, (past) toxic relationships, fame, rich brats, road trips, stalking, (mutual) obsession, murder husbands/wives/partners, cannibals(bones and all inspired?), skins/euphoria/elite inspired, supernatural abilities, cryptids, cults, post-nuclear war, post-apocalypse, sci-fi, crime, mafia, witches/werewolves/vampires/faeries/etc, (tentatively adding) a/b/o (done well), addiction, mental illness, 80s/90s/2000s/2010s, characters who are genuine pieces of shit (i <3 them), redemption arcs, morally gray characters (👀), found family, and so much more that i'm forgettinh! i would honestly agree with anything you sent me!

if you're interested in plotting and writing with me, give this a like! i write on discord! <3

give a like and anon will get back to you

#oc roleplay #oc rp

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outoutdamnspark · 2 years

Text

Ursa Major; Ursa Minor - Chapter 1: Dread

Originally written for @bellafragolina‘s Heatstroke AU (master post here).

Genre: Found Family, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Platonic A/B/O

Rated: G, SFW

Characters: Warden Ingo, Akari

Ao3 Tags: Dad Ingo, Accidental Adoption, Platonic Relationships ONLY, Puberty Sucks, No Romance, No Smut

Chapters: 1 out of ? (incomplete)

next chapter ->

Read on Ao3

Chapter Warnings: child in distress, themes of anxiety

===

There’s the scent of something sour on the wind.

It’s like fear - sweat and rancid sugar - along with something else that Ingo can’t quite place, something almost like faint rot, sickness in the hot summer sun. He takes a step further outside his humble home and nearly gags.

‘Young,’ something in him whispers. ‘Too young. Adolescent.’

‘Protect. Protect. PROTECT.’

He isn’t sure how he knows all of this exactly, as he’s never had the misfortune to smell it in person as far as he’s aware, but instincts are powerful things and it doesn’t escape him that his reaction is exactly what the smell is meant to elicit. He’s a warden, an alpha, and the Highlands are his patch of territory to defend.

He’s already running before he fully realizes he’s started.

Ingo follows the scent to its origin, paying only enough attention to his surroundings to keep from injuring himself as he sprints towards whatever poor soul is now within his territory’s bounds - and thus, under his protection. He blocks out any sense of time, leading to him blinking in surprise, panting for breath, as a tiny sound reaches him through his frazzled daze and halts him in his tracks, sun now hanging lower in the sky than when he’d begun. Hunching low, he sweeps his eyes across every blade of grass around him, searching for the source of the scent and the sound. It comes again, and there, tucked away in a small outcropping of rock, he finds what he’s looking for.

“Oh Sinnoh…”

He recognizes the form curled up in the dirt. She’s shaking violently, smelling of tear-salt and terror, face buried in the familiar red scarf of the uniform that only serves to confirm her identity beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Ingo takes a step closer, making his normally-quiet footfalls deliberately audible; sneaking up on her while she’s already so vulnerable will do nothing but harm right now.

Akari’s head shoots up at the sound of his approach, wide, terrified eyes staring at him without blinking. Ingo almost tries to bite back the soft sound of worry that bubbles up instinctively, but thinks better of it at the last second. He whines low in the back of his throat, a noise born of concern and a plea to let him help - one that a parent might make at their pup.

He sinks lower to the ground, keeping his aching spine as straight as he can and his shoulders back to keep his torso in view. He brings his hands up placatingly and lowers his gaze slightly to the side, focusing on her shoulder rather than er face. “It’s alright,” he says quietly. “I’m not here to harm you.” He makes the sound again; from the corner of his eye he can see her uncurl slightly from her tight ball to get a better look at him. Well. It’s progress.

“You are in pain,” he states - and even if she isn’t in physical pain, the instinctual, psychological suffering must be absolutely unbearable. He chances a look at her face, (too young, too young, far too young to be in such distress!) taking care to avoid eye contact, lest it be mistaken for aggression. To his momentary relief, he sees that she’s still watching him.

“Please,” he whispers, desperate to crawl forward and offer whatever comfort he can. “Allow me to assist?”

He phrases it as a question, asking permission, and is rewarded when Akari whimpers and nods, one of her hands unwrapping from around her middle and reaching back at him ever so slightly. Ingo doesn’t hesitate, he slowly fixes his center of gravity - advertising his movements plainly - and shifts just enough to be able to creep forward and closer to his goal.

He sinks back to his knees once beside her, and hunches down so as not to loom over her prone form. “Shhh,” he hushes as she whimpers again. Scarred, calloused fingers reach out and alight on the poor girl’s hair, carding through it gently, wrist petting against the crown of her head to leave behind a new scent marker. A familial mark, one meant to calm and comfort, one meant to add a layer of protection, a message to others that the bearer is protected and loved. It seems to work somewhat as Akari - sweet, kind, ever-cheerful Akari - gives a tearful, exhausted sigh and nuzzles into Ingo’s hand.

(He swallows down the primal urge to tear out someone’s throat.)

Thus is the consequence of a familial mark, he knows; it signifies the bearer as protected, but doubles as a reminder to the bestower that any harm to their charge is their responsibility to repay. He can’t know for certain, not until Akari is safe and the two of them can speak properly, but if anyone has hurt this child then Ingo fully intends to pay them back in full.

With a steadying breath and a quick shake of his head, Ingo focuses his instincts towards the girl now reaching up with trembling hands to grasp at his arm, pulling herself close enough to bury her face against the side of his knee.

“War… Ing…o…?” she croaks, and the broken pieces of his name hit the warden like a punch to the gut.

“I’m here,” he whispers, reaching down to scoop her into his arms and tuck her close to his chest where his warmth and scent are stronger. She clings to his tunic, still shivering almost to the point of convulsion; Ingo cannot yet feel the seep of tears through his tunic, but he can see the shine of them on Akari’s cheeks. He tightens his arms around her. “I’m here, pup, I’ve got you.”

Maneuvering as best he can with a precious weight against his chest, Ingo shrugs first one arm and then the other out of his coat sleeves. He pulls it around in front of himself and drapes it across Akari’s shaking body. He tucks it in around her like a shield of fabric, a wall of his (hopefully comforting) scent, and allows whatever parental instincts he has in this moment to guide him. A soft swell of worried pride tugs faintly at his alpha senses at the sight of his pup, (his pup, his marker claims her as family) wrapped up in his coat, face nuzzled against his tunic. ‘Protect,’ his instincts growl; ‘protect and then avenge.’

(Lady Irida’s sorrowful orders not to help Akari be damned, no jury on earth would convict an alpha for defending their wounded cub. If Ingo so much as smells whatever has left his pup in such a state, then not even Almighty Sinnoh itself will stop him putting the culprit in its place. Until then, he has something much more pressing to worry about.)

He cradles his pup protectively to him, letting her muffle her quiet sobbing in the soft fabric of his shirt. His yurt would likely be the most ideal place to house her, he thinks; sadly, he knows he isn’t the best prepared to host a guest for what will likely be the better part of a week, if not longer - especially one going through a mangled heat.

Another option would be Lady Sneasler’s den. He knows his lady would help in an instant, as she herself is quite fond of the girl, and with Ingo’s familial marker now adorning her hair, his noble would likely react in much the same way as him - a mother guarding her kit. Additionally, as a mother, she’d be better equipped to help Akari with nesting, as Ingo, being an alpha with no memories and parental instincts currently running amok, runs the risk of making an utter mess of it. Nesting just isn’t his forte.

Another plus to this option is that it would give Ingo time to gather supplies - blankets, food, water - without leaving his pup alone. He’ll have to take stock of what he has in his yurt, then plan out the most efficient routes to obtain the rest. (He just hopes his instincts will help guide him to what his pup might need. He… may need to ask Melli for a list, as awkward as that would likely be.)

The very notion of letting his pup out of his sight is distressing enough; the thought of leaving her unattended makes his stomach absolutely turn. He tries to stamp it down as soon as it comes but isn’t quick enough to stop the tang of anxiety that momentarily bleeds into his scent.

Akari stiffens in his hold, whining softly in frightened question, and he hurries to pet his wrist against her hair once more, strengthening the marker as he rumbles softly, deep in his chest. “It’s alright,” he murmurs. “You’re safe, it’s okay.”

Akari whimpers, unsure, but untenses slightly anyway and hides her face in his tunic.

Mind made up, Ingo reaches awkwardly into the pocket of his coat, taking care not to accidentally dislodge it from his pup, and pulls out his flute. It takes some maneuvering, but he gets it to his lips and manages to play his lady’s familiar tune.

There is a distant yowl in response, further up the mountain, and Ingo allows himself a moment to relax at the sound. He shifts until he, too, is tucked under the rocky outcrop, and puts his back against the stone. Eyes and ears alert for danger, the highland warden settles down to wait with his precious passenger held securely in his arms.

By the time Lady Sneasler finds them, Ingo has managed to rock his pup into an anxious, shallow sleep.

#spark writes #submas #warden ingo #sfw #a/b/o #ursa major ursa minor #pla akari #pokemon akari

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bellafragolina · 2 years

Note

*deep breath* So I uh. Did a thing.

(A/B/O, sfw, parental Warden Ingo)

===

There’s the scent of something sour on the wind. It’s like fear - sweat and rancid sugar - along with something else that Ingo can’t quite place, something almost like faint rot, sickness in the hot summer sun. He takes a step further outside his humble home and nearly gags.

Slapping a hand over his mouth and nose, Ingo feels the hairs at the base of his neck standing on end. He recognizes it now: an omega’s heat, botched and reeking with anxiety, a pheromonal cry of distress, one meant to summon help and frighten off ill-minded pursuers. He isn’t sure how he knows this exactly, as he’s never had the misfortune to smell it in person, but instincts are powerful things and it doesn’t escape him that his reaction is exactly what the smell is meant to elicit. He’s a warden, an alpha, and the HIghlands are his patch of territory to defend.

He’s already running before he fully realizes he’s started.

“Oh Sinnoh…”

He recognizes the form curled up in the dirt. They’re shaking violently, smelling of tear-salt and terror, face buried in the familiar red scarf of the uniform that only serves to confirm their identity beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Ingo takes a step closer, making his normally-quiet footfalls deliberately audible; sneaking up on them while they’re already so vulnerable will do nothing but harm right now.

Their head shoots up at the sound of his approach, wide, terrified eyes staring at him without blinking. Ingo almost tries to bite back the soft sound of worry that bubbles up instinctively, but thinks better of it at the last second. He whines low in the back of his throat, a noise born of concern and a plea to let him help - one that a parent might make at their pup.

He sinks lower to the ground, keeping his back as straight as he can and his shoulders back to keep his torso in view. He brings his hands up placatingly and lowers his gaze slightly to the side, focusing on their shoulder rather than their face. “It’s alright,” he says quietly. “I’m not here to harm you.” He makes the sound again; from the corner of his eye he can see the hero uncurl slightly from their tight ball to get a better look at him. Well. It’s progress.

“You are in pain,” he states - and even if they aren’t in physical pain, the instinctual, psychological suffering must be absolutely unbearable. He chances a look at their face, careful to avoid eye contact that could be mistaken for aggression, and sees that they’re still watching him. “Please,” he whispers, “allow me to assist?”

He phrases it as a question, asking permission, and is rewarded when the hero whimpers and nods, one of their hands unwrapping from around their middle and reaching back at him ever so slightly. Ingo doesn’t hesitate, he slowly fixes his center of gravity - advertising his movements plainly - and shifts just enough to be able to creep forward and closer to his goal.

He sinks back to his knees once beside them, and hunches down so as not to loom over them. “Shhh,” he hushes as the hero whimpers again. Scarred, calloused fingers reach out and alight on the hero’s hair, carding through it gently, wrist petting against the crown of their head to leave behind a new scent marker. A familial mark, one meant to calm and comfort, one meant to add a layer of protection, a message to others that the bearer is protected and loved. It seems to work somewhat as the hero gives a tearful, exhausted sigh and nuzzles into Ingo’s hand. He swallows down the primal urge to tear out someone’s throat.

(Thus is the consequence of a familiar mark, he knows; it signifies the bearer as protected, but doubles as a reminder to the bestower that any harm to their charge is their responsibility to be repaid.)

Instead, Ingo focuses his instincts towards the hero now reaching up with trembling hands to grasp at his arm, pulling themself close enough to bury their face against the side of his knee.

“War… Ing… Alpha?” they croak, and the broken half of his name hits the warden like a punch to the throat.

“I’m here,” he whispers, reaching down to scoop them into his arms and tuck them close to his chest where his warmth and scent are stronger. They cling to his tunic, still shivering almost to the point of convulsion; Ingo cannot yet feel the seep of tears through his tunic, but he can see the shine of them on the hero’s cheeks. “I’m here, pup, I’ve got you.”

Maneuvering as best he can with a precious weight against his chest, Ingo shrugs first one arm and then the other out of his coat sleeves. He pulls it around in front of himself and drapes it across the hero’s shaking body. He tucks it in around them like a shield of fabric, a wall of his (hopefully comforting) scent, and allows whatever parental instincts he has in this moment to guide him. A soft swell of worried pride tugs faintly at his alpha senses at the sight of the hero (a pup, his pup, his marker claims them as family) wrapped up in his coat, face nuzzled against his tunic. ‘Protect,’ his instincts growl; ‘protect and then avenge.’

(Lady Irida’s sorrowful orders be damned, no jury on earth would convict an alpha for defending their wounded cub; if Ingo so much as smells whoever has left his pup in such a state, then not even Almighty Sinnoh itself will stop him putting the culprit in their place. Until then, he has something much more pressing to worry about.)

He cradles his pup protectively to him, letting them muffle their quiet sobbing in the soft fabric of his shirt. His yurt would likely be the most ideal place to house them, he thinks; sadly, he knows he isn’t the best prepared to host a guest for what will likely be the better part of a week, if not longer - especially one going through a mangled heat.

Another option would be Lady Sneasler’s den. He knows his lady would help in an instant, as she herself is quite fond of the hero, and with Ingo’s familial marker now adorning their hair, his nobel would likely react in much the same way as him - a mother guarding her kit. She’d also be better equipped to help them with nesting, as Ingo, being an alpha, runs the risk of mucking it up. Nesting just isn’t his forte. Another plus to this option is that it would give Ingo time to gather supplies - blankets, food, water - without leaving his pup alone.

The very notion makes his stomach turn, anxiety momentarily bleeding into his scent. His pup stiffens in his hold, whining softly in frightened question, and he hurries to pet his wrist against their hair once more, strengthening the marker as he rumbles softly deep in his chest. “It’s alright,” he murmurs. “You’re safe, it’s okay.”

Mind made up, he reaches awkwardly into the pocket of his coat, taking care not to accidentally dislodge it from his pup, and pulls out his flute. It takes some maneuvering, but he gets it to his lips and manages to play his lady’s familiar tune.

~💥

Where’s that fucking Elmo gif

HALLELUJAH

My darling you have done WONDERS! You have BLESSED us! I am IN LOVE with this!

Found families get me so good, and you got me so so good. I am so happy rn

God, I’m going to take lunch so I can stare at this for thirty minutes

~Renee

#💥 anon #yessssssss #heatstroke au

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simpsonsnight · 11 months

Text

Episode #711

Lisa’s Belly Season 33, Episode 5 | October 24, 2021

Hey, this one actually was alright. Points on the board, baby. The main story is Lisa frets because Marge calls her chunky. There’s also a B story about Bart being accepted by bullies after he says he’d been taking steroids.

Bart and Lisa were both, indeed, on steroids. They were prescribed steroids over the summer after becoming ill at a water park. This opening act largely takes place at a water park, which Homer had fond memories of as a teenager. The park was wildly unsafe at the time; Homer used to work there and used to bust up his shit laughing at people getting injured. We’re treated to a flashback montage of waterslide fails set to a lively classic rock song (I forget which one). Lisa pulls up a documentary about the park on her ipad, in which we see the exact same montage of people being hurt, but set to serious music. Homer protests, because he remembers the music being different. I laughed! I laughed in the first act! Uh oh, I’m going to like the whole episode now…

Homer is disappointed that the park is now safe and babyfied, but quickly finds a decommissioned and more dangerous slide. He manages to turn the thing on. He and the kids go down it, having a great time in the process. Unfortunately the stagnant pool water at the end of the slide makes them ill, which is where the steroid prescription comes into the play. Bart and Lisa both become chunkified. What follows after the first act doesn’t reach the heights of the first, but is mostly fine. I appreciate the focused nature of the story, and a scene where Lisa has a childish tantrum at the mall is actually animated in a very funny way.

Biggest points loss is a terrible and unfunny song with Patty and Selma, who perform a musical number about not caring that you’re hideous looking. There’s pointless Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-in imagery thrown in. Please stop trying to be Bob’s Burgers, Simpsons. Please! This one has a somewhat satisfying ending, where we see the words that haunt each character’s psyche’s, but Homer being comforted by one of his, which is that he’s lazy. Come to think of it, this is maybe one of the more likable depictions of Homer in the whole series. He may be lazy, but at least he’s motivated enough to help Lisa that he enlists the help of Patty and Selma.

This one wasn’t particularly great, but it was better than most of these modern episodes, and I guess that should count for something. If only there was a way to make each cast member not sound 90 years old.

#simpsons #season 33

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femuirdris · 1 year

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Tangled Up in You

Fire Emblem: Awakening | Rating: G | Ship(s): Frederick/Sumia

A routine air patrol ends with Sumia falling from her pegasus. Frederick insists on nursing her wounds and untangling her mess of hair.

[Read on AO3!]

“Milady! Are you quite alright?!” Frederick cried as he hurried towards a disheveled Sumia.

She and Cordelia had gone patrolling the skies—a routine for the two of them—but Sumia had returned looking like she had been trapped in a devastating whirlwind. Her hair was strewn in all directions, with leaves and a few small sticks poking out. Small scratches littered her face and armor, and the bluish tint of early bruises stained her skin.

“Yeah!” she said, her smile still bright. Frederick’s concerning gaze made her gasp. “Er—oh! Right! Cordelia’s pegasus was feeling particularly ornery today and decided to challenge mine… before either of us could get our mounts under control, I, er… slipped off. B-but don’t worry! I’m totally fine! I had a vulnerary with me! And I managed to get Cordelia’s pegasus to calm down and apologize!”

“Milady, you need to be seen by a healer immediately! Perhaps Lady Lissa or Lady Maribelle—”

She giggled shyly, cutting him off. “Frederick, I’m okay, I promise! I’m used to taking a clumsy tumble or two… or several,” she assured him with a sheepish grin.

“Then I insist you allow me to help clean and dress your wounds, milady,” he implored, the intensity of his words matching his eyes.

She smiled. “I don’t suppose I have much of a choice in the matter, do I?”

“Not in the slightest,” he replied dryly, but with a small smile.

They headed for the armory, where they both returned their gear (Frederick decided it would be rather difficult to treat wounds in his full armor, of course). After a brief stop at the medic tent for supplies, Frederick escorted Sumia to her tent, keeping a watchful eye on the ground for any tripping hazards along the way—which proved to be quite necessary, as her eyes were focused far too much on him than her path. Any time he looked back at her, she’d flash a sweet, shy smile and giggle, sending a rush of warmth to his cheeks. He knew he should want her to be aware of her surroundings (he didn’t want her hurt!), but a selfish part of him enjoyed being so needed.

The familiar scent of blossoms and parchment danced in Frederick’s nostrils as they entered her chambers, the once overwhelming sensation now cozy and serene like a campfire’s warm embrace. He ushered her to the cot, where she plopped down and reached for her boots.

Frederick, ever the swift knight, had already knelt down to assist. “Allow me, milady; you should not overstrain yourself!”

“Frederick,” she sighed teasingly, “I am more than capable of removing my boots! I only took a little bit of a tumble, you know.”

He shot her a stern glare, still grasping her boot. “Falling from a pegasus is more than a ‘little tumble’, milady, and it would ill behoove me not to assist in any way I am capable.” He paused, seeking her approval before continuing.

“Well, I suppose if you insist, but I don’t want to be a burden!” she explained abashedly, permitting him to continue. He delicately removed the boot in his hands, then the other, placing them neatly to the side of the bed. “Do you insist on removing Chrom’s boots for him, as well? Heehee!” she giggled, bright red dusting her cheeks. She opted to shed her gloves herself, setting them loosely on the cot.

His own blush spread to his ears, and he exhaled loudly through his nose as he proceeded to fold her gloves. “It is not often milord is injured and refuses assistance—having two very convincing healers as sisters has taught him well. But, if the need arose, I would not hesitate.”

He lined up the fingers of each glove neatly, pleating them into three even sections and setting them atop the boots. Once he was satisfied, he washed his hands in the small wash basin he had borrowed from the medics, then rummaged through the medic kit for a topical potion. He carefully doused a cloth in the potion.

A herd of wild pegasi fluttered in his gut as he took her hand in his, gently outstretching her arm to observe her the scrapes marring her otherwise beautiful skin. Her hand was so soft, save for the callouses from wielding a lance on the battlefield abrading against his own. If he could only linger here a moment longer…

The throbbing heartbeat in his ears snapped him out of his trance. He took a deep breath.

“This may sting a bit, milady, but it is to clean your wounds,” he warned before dabbing a scrape. She hissed as the potion made contact, squeezing her eyes shut and curling her toes in her stockings. Once the initial sting subsided, she opened her eyes again, gazing at Frederick. “Are you alright? Is the pain tolerable?”

Her grin made those pegasi in his gut dart in all different directions. “Not as bad as I thought it’d be! Wa-eep!” she squeaked as he moved the cloth to another scrape, then she grimaced. “Well, mostly.”

To get his mind off the nauseating heat in his stomach (and to satiate his own curiosity), Frederick drummed up more conversation. “It’s unlike Cordelia to lose control over her pegasus. Is everything alright?”

“Cordelia’s pegasus is very in tune with her emotions, which are usually very controlled in battle—and on patrol for that matter! There’s a reason she’s one of the most gifted knights in the army!” she explained, admiration and perhaps a twinge of jealousy evident in her voice. “But… she’s been on edge especially after we lost so many knights following the hierarch’s betrayal…”

Frederick frowned, moving on to her other arm. “A tragedy indeed. Those damned traitors,” he growled, squeezing her hand. When she gasped, he softened his tone and continued, “I suppose that would explain it.”

“Yeah… and I mean, she hadn’t really seen Chrom in a while, either, until recently… so I’m guessing it’s a combination of things stressing her out.”

“Ah, yes, I’m painfully aware of her unrequited desire for milord,” he chuckled. “Though I could hardly fault her; she has quite the refined palate to seek milord’s affections.”

Her giggle this time was hesitant. Frederick felt his stomach churn, rather than flutter. “The captain is pretty wonderful! I can’t blame her myself!” Her words stung worse than any potion on a wound. “But he certainly has eyes for another, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh?” was all he could muster, despite being certain he didn’t he want her to elaborate.

“Haven’t you seen the way he looks at Robin?“ she asked, her eyes shimmering. “It’s so sweet and romantic! Oh, I hope they end up courting. They’re like something out of an epic tale! A mysterious stranger with amnesia, the only name she remembers is his… love at first sight! It writes itself!”

A wave of relief washed over him as he set down the cloth and reached for the bandages. Why was he so bothered that Sumia would find milord attractive? Anyone in their right mind would! Though, perhaps he should be weary of Robin’s affections—after all, her origins remained dubious, despite his growing trust in her. “Hrm, I suppose it does…”

“Regardless, I-I think it was just a fluke! Cordelia’s so good with her mount, and I’m usually not half bad either! It was just an accident.” She shrugged.

With her arms bandaged up, it was time for the scrapes on her face. He ignored the tightening whorl in his stomach as he doused a fresh cloth with potion, hesitantly bringing it up to a particularly nasty cut right along her cheekbone. She flinched at the sting initially, then leaned into his touch. He avoided eye contact with her as he assured her, “Milady, you are far more than not half bad. You are the most capable beast wrangler I have ever had the pleasure to meet!”

“You really mean it?” she asked, her face growing warmer to the touch, alarming Frederick. (Had the scrape gotten infected? Was he too late patching her up?) She placed her hand over his and smiled. He finally met her eyes and gods, they were gorgeous, shimmering with thanks and admiration and—if he could be so selfish, maybe even affection.

“Of course, milady,” he replied, smiling softly. He lingered in her eyes a moment longer, before turning away to apply a salved bandage. “There, that should soothe the pain for the time being. Now then… about that bird’s nest in your hair…”

“O-oh gosh, I mean, I’d hate to be a burden! You’ve already done so much by patching me up! I can brush out my hair myself—“ she claimed, running her fingers through her hair then stopped by a stick so aggressively tangled it was stuck like glue. She let out a pained yelp. “You know, on second thought, maybe I will take you up on that offer!”

“Right then,” he nodded, the thought of touching her hair suddenly leaving him disquieted. “Whereabouts may be your comb and hair balm?”

He followed her outstretched hand, which pointed to the chest covered with books. Sure enough, a double ended comb, embossed with intricate swirling not unlike that of Ylissean armor, and a sizable jar of balm were hidden amongst the romance novels. “It’s over there… ah, horseplop! I’m sorry! I really should tidy up a bit more… I wasn’t expecting your company tonight!” She twiddled her toes nervously, hiding her eyes.

A bolt of nerves shot through him as he pursed his lips. “You were expecting company.” It was more a statement than a question (and perhaps a bit more accusatory than he intended). Her cheeks flushed with damning ferocity, sinking the knight’s heart like a cannonball in the Valm seas.

“Wh—huh? No! I just meant—I didn’t expect you here—erm, I mean, oh pegasus feathers!” She buried her face in her palms. “What I mean is—I’m happy to have you here helping me, and I wasn’t expecting to be so in need of your kindness, Frederick. I must be one of the luckiest Shepherds in the whole army to be in the care of the captain’s best and most loyal knight!”

With that, his heart was reeled back in from the depths, swelling with the same pride he’d feel from a compliment from his liege. “Always happy to assist, milady.” He smiled as he took a seat next to her. “Here,” he gestured in front of him, “it will be easier if you were seated in front of me. We may be here a while.” He chuckled, tugging a leaf out of her hair.

“Right! Yeah!” She slid down, kneeling with her back to him. “Oh, this is just like when I was little and the handmaids would do my hair for me! Er—not that you’re—”

Frederick grumbled a little at the accidental comparison as he got to work removing the debris. “Lady Maribelle and Lord Virion have both compared my work to that of a steward’s. You are not the first,” he sighed.

“I didn’t mean to imply you were a servant, Frederick!” She turned her head, but quickly realized her mistake with his fingers intertwined in her hair. “Aack! My bad! I am just stumbling over my words more than I do over my own feet tonight!” She slouched with a defeated sigh. “I’m sorry for being so clumsy with them.”

“It’s all right, milady. Ah, this one may pull a bit,” he said, yanking out another gnarled stick.

She turned her head again, just slightly this time, to say, “I really am lucky to have you looking after me, both on and off the battlefield. I know you take care of the captain and Lissa even more, as you should! But… it’s nice to feel almost as special as them to you.”

What a relief she couldn’t see his face right now as he smiled so uncharacteristically widely. She was right, after all, that he had taken particular care of her lately. She was a capable warrior, but her clumsiness often left her an easy target; fortunately, Frederick’s protection helped make up for that. And it was also true that he made it a point to keep her armor extra polished, that she got the coziest blankets and fluffiest pillows available when they set up camp, that her path was always free of tripping hazards… Indeed, her comparison to Lord Chrom was accurate.

Lord Chrom and Lady Lissa were very accustomed to his attention to detail, and while he knew they appreciated him, they rarely went out of their way to acknowledge the particulars. They even teased him, at times! Lady Sumia’s company was extraordinarily pleasant—she always thanked him for his efforts, even they weren’t directly for her sake, and with the biggest, sweetest smile too.

Gods, if he permitted himself, he could get lost in her smile all day.

“I only treat you with the care you are due and nothing less, milady,” he admitted, choosing his words carefully.

“You… really think I deserve such kindness? But I’m not… good at much of anything! At least Chrom is an amazing captain and prince, and Lissa’s a wonderful princess and healer and prankster… I’m just… the girl who messes everything up and needs help with her hair because she fell off her pegasus…” Sumia’s voice broke as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

He inhaled sharply, his mind racing to grasp what to do, what to say.

“Milady,” he said firmly as he gripped her shoulders, turning her towards him as he leaned in. “Milady… Sumia, you rival few for how dedicated you are to the Shepherds’ safety. You are kind and thoughtful, always putting everyone else’s needs above your own. No one commands a pegasus or a horse like you! You’re graceful in battle, working so hard to make up for your perceived faults, and gods milady, I truly wish you could see how important you are to—to the Shepherds!” he declared, catching himself at the end before it blew into some kind of haphazard confession of love.

Love. Was that what he felt for her?

Even if that were the case, this wasn’t about his feelings; it was about hers, and damn it, she didn’t deserve to feel so distraught about her worth.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she choked through sniffles. “I guess I just… don’t see what you see…! Everyone in the Shepherds is so wonderful and I just—“

Frederick delicately swiped his thumb across her stream of tears. “And that includes you, milady. Your presence is irreplaceable.”

She sniffled again, her tears slowing to a sprinkle.

“Now then milady,” he retracted his hand and patted her shoulder, “will you please do me the pleasure of telling me all about Mad Tales of a Bloodthirsty Falcon Knight, Volume 2? I’m most curious to hear your thoughts on it as we finish cleaning you up.”

She giggled nervously, answering, “Oh, that one is my favorite!” in between just a few more sniffles.

Frederick continued untangling the tree remnants from her hair as Sumia prattled on about her favorite tale of a fell falcon knight who sought revenge on those who murdered her closest companions. Her tone changed noticeably from timid and insecure to excited and whimsical, a pleasant shift from the negative self talk. He only wished he could figure out how to convince her she mattered, and ruminated as he plucked the final leaves out.

He scooped a generous amount of the balm into his hands and coated her hair in it, massaging more into the nastiest knots. Then, he combed through gently with his fingers, searching for natural parts to make the mats easier to comb out. They were resistant at first, but Frederick exercised the utmost patience and care.

Much like he’d have to do with Sumia’s confidence, he figured.

After some time, and many drabbles about why Sumia loved her favorite novel so much, the comb was finally running effortlessly through her hair.

“Would you like me to braid your hair?” he offered sweetly, not wanting a reason to part just yet.

She tiled her head back to meet his eyes, a jolt of excitement electrifying him. “Oh my gosh, you know how to braid hair?” She grinned. “You are simply a wealth of mysterious talents! Where did you learn?”

“One must know how to braid hair when tending to a young Princess Lissa,” he chuckled, matching her smile with his own. “Would you prefer a single or twin-tails? Basic, Frelian, or Valentian? Or perhaps a fish tail—not technically a braid, though the concept and look is similar!”

“Ooh… Frelian-braided twin-tails, please!” She clasped her hands together excitedly.

“Excellent choice, milady!” He got to work, his fingers deftly separating and crossing strands of hair to form two neat little braids, careful not to find himself too distracted by the noticeable softness of her locks or the flowery scent of the balm. When he was finished tying off the braids, he tugged on the loops to give them a little extra volume.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding! That was so fast!” she exclaimed with glee, hurrying over to the small mirror she kept in her tent. “Oh my gosh, Frederick, these are so lovely! I even look… cute! Wow! If you ever have a daughter, she’s going to be the luckiest little girl to have a father like you!”

As his knightly duties comprised most of his thoughts and actions, he rarely allowed himself such selfish thoughts as finding happiness and starting a family. Of course, he knew he’d have to marry to carry on his family’s legacy of servitude to the royal family. Still, the thought seemed so distant in his mind, the idea of courting another a terrible distraction from his life’s work.

Suddenly, Lady Sumia made the idea seemed tangible.

***

When the Shepherds gathered for dinner, the ladies showered Sumia with compliments.

“Oh, my dear, your hair looks absolutely stunning! You should wear updos more often!” said Maribelle.

“All the years I’ve known you, and you’ve never braided your hair so intricately. When’d you learn to do that?” Cordelia asked with surprise.

“You’ll have to teach me sometime! I don’t remember if I know how!” Robin exclaimed.

Lissa eyed Sumia, a mischievous, knowing look in her eye. Sumia raised an eyebrow at her, so Lissa teased, “I’d know that handiwork anywhere.” She giggled, then whispered in Sumia’s ear, “Looks like he’s got someone else to dote on now, too. Welcome to the club!”

#frederick x sumia #fredmia #fredsumia #frederick #sumia #fire emblem awakening #fe13 #my fanfics

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leonidascinema · 1 year

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FILM ADAPTATION

Meet our film adaptation team!

Alex Lennen - director

India Marshall - Cinematographer

Fionntan McCaughey - Sound designer/recordist

Niamh McPherson - Scriptwriter

Nikola Jurcaga - Producer

Leonidas Ibarra (me) - Editor

PRE-PRODUCTION

We sat down before class to discuss what short story we wanted to adapt for our short film. After going through many ideas, we finally settled on the Cop and the Anthem.

Obviously this part of the production was primarily focused on Niamh getting the script done and Nikola preparing all the paperwork, schedule, and booking the necessary equipment. I tried my best to be as present in this process, sharing my input about what would/wouldn't be possible as editor. I also talked with Alex and India about the visual idea they had for the film as well as the pacing to get a rough idea and be prepared.

Once everything was ready, Nikola sent us all the information and schedule for us to prepare.

PRODUCTION

Production was shot over two days on the 17th and 18th of March. I was present as runner throughout the whole shoot. We faced a lot of obstacles, most of them being unwanted noises and people interrupting, which we could only do so much about. It also started raining at a point, which delayed the shoot quite a bit.

I had to look over the equipment most the time and got to meet a lovely man who told me a bit about Dean village and lived right next to where the equipment was kept.

When I wasn't looking after the equipment, I was helping Fionntan with sound, and we tried our best to get as much coverage in the time frame that we had.

I would have loved for us to get more time, because with the two days that we had there would be little coverage for me to play around with.

POST-PRODUCTION!!!!

Now that the shoot for film adaptation is finally over, it is my time to shine as editor.

Before starting anything, I had made sure I was comfortable enough in my editing skills by attending as many tutorials as I could (medical consultations and surgery over the months of March/April made attendance quite difficult). I also made use of the avid resources that were given to us in previous semesters and took notes.

Once all the files were sent to me, Alex set my deadline and I got to work. The toughest part of editing this film was definitely the sound, and trying to pick footage that wasn't going to be a nightmare to manage for the sound designer. I had little coverage and a lot of scenes did not have shots that linked together, so I resorted to whatever I had. For instance, I used B-roll footage of Soapy walking to link two scenes, and I reluctantly used a cut to black as a scene transition, but it worked alright as a whole. I had a lot of fun solving all these tiny details and was particularly happy with how the busker scene looked.

I also checked in with Alex with every scene I edited to make sure the film was still accurate to his vision. He was very responsive and gave me a lot of useful feedback that I applied to the best of my ability.

After the edit was done and the film was in picture lock, I was still asked to go back on it to make changes for the scene with the Lady. Alex was able to show it to different audiences and they mentioned the scene made little sense with the laughing stranger (Max Brodbeck) not there.

Then came the colour correcting. I had a lot of trouble trying to get the initial colours I was going for (blue to more yellowish tones starting at the busker scene) as I was ill prepared and did not do much research on the way colour correction worked. I will definitely delve further into it and find resources for the next project I work on as I think I was one of the biggest problems I faced in my work on this production.

With the film exported and colour corrected, my job as editor was over.

I was not very present for the sound design part of the post-production because of surgery and recovery, so there is not much I can say.

Overall, this was a really fun production to work on, it gave us a lot of perspective on film adaptations and their process. Though there are certainly things we could improve on, I am proud of everyone's dedication to the short.

Meet the team!

Alex Lennen - director

India Marshall - Cinematographer

Fionntan McCaughey - Sound designer/recordist

Niamh McPherson - Scriptwriter

Nikola Jurcaga - Producer

Leonidas Ibarra (me) - Editor

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little-diable · 2 years

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Exodus 22:18 - Priest!Carlisle Cullen (smut)

My first ever Carlisle imagine was focused on witch burnings, so I had to bring this back. All of my February birthday imagines will have Hozier lyrics in them and they are all priest imagines. Once again - the rule is simple: Don't like it, don't read it. I won't accept any hate nor any hateful comments about this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Priest Cullen is asked to free the reader from the devils inside her body before she will be burned on the stake. But the Priest knows that she isn't a witch, nevertheless, she has sinned and needs to be freed.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, mentions witch burnings, religious connotations, power play, dubcon, set in the 1700s

Pairing: Priest!Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader (2k)

She could feel the heat of the fireplace on her skin, wrapping itself around her as if it was trying to cozy her along, whispering to the trembling woman that everything would be alright. But judging from the way the men surrounding her paced around the room, impatiently looking out of the windows, she knew that her fate had been sealed.

(Y/n) had been dragged out of her house when twilight had broken the night, forced to her knees with her wide eyes staring at the mayor of their small town. An evil smirk had tugged on his lips as he had accused her of being a witch, the one that had bewitched the children that had fallen ill and have died.

The herbs she had dried in the past weeks had contributed to her case, an easy evidence they could use against her, accusing the young woman of sleeping with the devil, to gain an eternal life to wander this earth. She had feared that this day would come, that she’d end just like her mother, burned on the stake with her tears dripping to the fiery flames.

“He should be here by now.” They were waiting for someone to arrive, (y/n) had been forced onto a wooden chair, wrists and ankles bound, scared that the witch could flee from them and kill the other children.

For months the mayor had tried to lure her into his bed, wanting to lay with the young woman that had been forced away from her now dead parents. But (y/n) had ripped herself free, over and over again, pushing the elderly man off her with her teeth bared and her eyes burning into his soul. She should have known that he’d accuse her of witchery, that he’d push her to her knees with his hand resting on her shoulder, whispering words that would leave her trembling in fear.

“Don’t worry, he won’t leave us waiting for long.” The mayor was sitting on the other side of the room, drinking steins of beer, smirking at (y/n) with twinkling eyes. Soon she’d bid this life goodbye, dying at the hands of sadistic men. What a life to lead, born to a broken family with a mother dying when she was a mere child and a father running from home, forced to live on her own, forced to teach herself all the things her mother was supposed to teach her.

“There he is.” The men left the room, giving her a moment to breathe, preparing her for whoever would step into the room any moment now. The stairs cried with every step taken on them, brittle wood that would soon fall apart like her flesh burned alive.

“Good evening.” An all too familiar voice echoed through the room, her eyes met golden ones. Priest Cullen, the man she had laid her trust in, the man she’d turn to when she’d stray from her path, lost and confused, not knowing where to go. He stared at her with something laced in his gaze, something unfamiliar and dark.

The wooden cross around his neck swayed with every step he took, bouncing off his chest as if it was sending out a silent warning. Carlisle placed his hand on her shoulder, eyes not leaving hers once, not even as he asked the men to leave them alone, desperate for some privacy in order to free her from the devils living inside her body.

“I,” she paused, not knowing if she could still trust him. “I’m no witch.” (Y/n) shook her head, her eyes were glassy, tears threatened to make their way down her warm cheeks, leaving a salty trail behind.

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” A cry bubbled out of her, desperately trying to shuffle out of the rope that had been wrapped around her body. The “please” that rolled off her tongue was met with silence, leaving her to suffer as he sat down vis-a-vis her, hand clamped down on his bible.

“I don’t think you’ve killed those children. But I know that you’ve sinned, you’ve given into the dark voice calling your name. You need to be freed from your sins and a simple confession won’t help you this time.” (Y/n) didn’t understand what he was telling her, she was still crying, sobbing his name in hopes of being freed from this nightmare.

“I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife. Free me, help me prove my innocence.” Carlisle rose from his position, he cupped her cheek with his eyes burning down on her. Slowly he moved his thumb along her lips, tracing the outlines of a cross before he bowed down to her. The priest kissed her without another warning, forcing a gasp from her lips.

She had always fancied him, had always wondered how his hands would feel on her naked body - sinful thoughts she had sworn to keep from him. But now, as she was minutes away from being sentenced to death, she no longer worried about her darkest secrets, didn’t mind his wandering hands, no, if this was her last interaction with him before she’d die, she’d welcome it with open arms.

“You are guided by your pleasure, your desire for me has grown. Tonight I will free you from the devil’s stain on your soul. Tonight you will give into his calling to ban him from your flesh.” His words echoed through her mind, a prayer spoken like rain clashing to the dry ground, ripping holes into the soil her body would find its last rest in when night would fall.

The priest cut through her ropes, he pushed her to the ground, wordlessly commanding her to bend to his every will.

“Kiss my shoes and pray with me.” With her hands interlaced behind her back, (y/n) kissed his black shoes. She should feel humiliated, should feel guilty and ashamed, but she didn’t. No, she felt relieved, freed as if her sins had already been ripped from her soul. A Hail Mary rolled off her tongue, recited by heart with her eyes meeting his.

Carlisle sank to his knees, his cold hands were reaching for her dress, carefully unbuttoning the linen she had pulled on before she was supposed to leave for her walk through the forest. Bare as on the day she had been born she was sitting there, waiting for his hands to touch the part only her husband should touch.

But he was a man of God, and was allowed to do whatever the eternal Father was asking him to do. Guided by the promise of living a sin free life.

“You shall be freed from the darkness, you shall be freed from the stain the devil has left on your soul. You shall be pure again.” He pushed her back, body forced to the cold wooden ground. Carlisle settled between her thighs, his hands were working on his trousers, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his clothes. Wordlessly her hands reached for him, touching parts of a male body she had never dared to touch before.

She wasn’t pure, had been with a man before, a drunken mistake she had confessed to the priest the same night with tears dripping onto the back of her hands. But now she no longer was crying her tears, by now she was carefully touching him. Carlisle’s eyes followed her every move, even as she spat into her palm, using her saliva to soften her touch, he didn’t dare close his eyes.

“I will do whatever I need to do to be freed. Help me, father, rescue me.” Their lips met for another kiss, shared with the shadows dancing along their features, pulling them in as if the darkness herself was settling in their bones. Carefully Carlisle moved up her body, he aligned his cock with her heat, pushed into her with a hand pressed to her mouth, stifling her sounds.

Her eyes were focused on his necklace, watching the cross move like a pendulum, betokening her cruel end. It took her a few moments to adjust to his size, walls painfully stretched around him. But the burn soon faded into something more passionate, taking over her body as if the holy spirit was piercing through her chest.

Their skin slapped together, again and again, louder than the cries of the ones that had mourned Jesus' death on the cross, louder than the waves that had clashed against Noah’s Ark. He was forcing the ground apart with his ferocious thrusts, reminding her of the promise she was supposed to follow, giving her life for the one that had created her.

“Beg for forgiveness, let him hear you.” Carlisle’s voice grew raspier, eyes struggling to stay open as her walls fluttered around his cock. Both their words were slurred, drunk on the pleasure thumping through their bodies.

“I am sorry for sinning, I am sorry.” She cried out, not sure if she was focused on her sins or the intense feeling flushing through her like waves of the red sea. With her back arched and her toes curled, she felt her body vibrating, shaking beneath him like the earthquake that had destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah.

Carlisle’s hand rested around her throat, he wasn’t squeezing, though was silently warning her that he could snap her neck any moment now. It wouldn’t take much longer till she’d cum around his cock, forcing him to fill her with his release, freeing the woman from the devil’s daunting call.

“Give in, let the feeling wash through you.” Her vision was blurred, eyes finding his features with a silent prayer leaving her. The intense feeling rocked through her, it knocked all air out of her lungs. Her walls fluttered around him, struggling to keep on breathing as his warmth began to stream through her.

She felt their juices running down her thighs, leaving stains on the wooden floor. It took her a few seconds to find her way back to reality, pulled to her feet by the priest. Wordlessly he redressed himself, hand finding her features once again. Carlisle traced a cross on her forehead with his lips pressed against her cheek.

“Pack your bag, you’ll leave with me.” Her life would be spared, forced to leave her hometown and the memories of her parents behind. Saved by the touch of her priest.

Please like and reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this, come talk to me about my writing, let’s spill some tea or thirst over our favorite people. xxx

Use this link to join the taglist

#Carlisle Cullen smut #chi's lemon #little-diable priest #Carlisle Cullen imagine

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lottiebagleywritesobx · 3 years

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Tequila confessions

JJ lets out a sigh at the sight of his best friend. He'd been late to the kegger and more than ready to relax and have fun with his friends, he knew almost immediately that his plans were going to be very different.

"JAIII," She's slurring as she shouts, stumbling a little over nothing as she approaches him.

"Hey sunshine," He coos lightly, tucking her into his side as he points Kie a sharp glare.

She holds her hands up in surrender "That girl is crazy," Kie defends, causing the girl to let out a gasp, turning to fight back but seemingly forgetting she was mad in the first place when she actually sees Kie, instead moving to go and hug her friend, she's kept in place though by JJ's arm around her shoulder.

"Seriously Kie, I asked you to keep an eye out for her for like a couple hours cause I had work," JJ complains, it was no secret amongst the pogues that she couldn't hold her drinks, she could casually drink on the boat all day but the minute she was in a party setting she would wind up pissed.

"It's not my fault girls from school wanted to do tequila shots and-"

"Shit! You know she voms on tequila," JJ grumbles

"No, we don't all know every little thing about her," Kie defends, JJ rolls his eyes, glancing to see if she had realised what Kiara meant, she seemed to be entertaining herself by playing with the ends of his fingers that hang around her shoulder. "C'mon, I'll get you a beer," Kie offers.

JJ sighs, he does want to drink with his friends, smoke a bit too. It had been a long day and he needed to relax. He knows though that if his best friend has done tequila shots she'll be feeling ill within minutes and he wants to be able to look after her properly.

"I should probably skip, get this one home," He admits, squeezing the girl in his arms a little, seemingly drawing her attention back to him.

"I'm not going home," She argues, still slurring

"Sunshine, you gotta. You'll be feeling poorly soon and-"

He cuts himself off when she makes a dash for it. Leaving his tight grip and sprinting across the beach to John B who reaches out immediately to steady her and stop her from falling.

"Fuck it. Where's the beer Kie?" JJ decides.

He settles at the campfire, drinking slowly so as to stay sober and look after her when she inevitably needs him. A group of touron girls are talking to him, pawing for attention and he's half listening, his eyes are zoned in on her though.

He watched as she danced with Sarah.

He watched as she played beer pong with some kook boys, not sure if he was mad because she was already drunk enough or because they all kept trying to touch her. He figured it's probably the latter.

He watched as she splashed Pope in the shallow water.

Unable to help himself, a large grin spreads across his face as he watches her approach him. She's reaching out and making grabby hands at him, confidently shoving her way through the girls surrounding him to sit next to him. She doesn't need to worry about it, he's always dropped everything to be with her.

She sits silently, head cocked to the side, eyeing JJ with great concentration despite her glassy eyes. He takes the moment to look at her, glowing in the light from the fire and biting her bottom lip slightly, she always does when she's focused.

"Your face is stupid but I like it. I like your stupid...it's so...I like it. Can I touch it?"

"Course you can sunshine," He's grinning widely and can practically feel himself melting when her hand reaches out, stroking his cheek gently.

"JJ can I tell you something?" She's trying to whisper but her voice is no where near quiet, hand still cupping his face.

"You can tell me anything," He reassures, hand going to her knee to rub comforting circles on the skin

"I feel icky,"

"You wanna leave?" He asks, his voice soft

"I wanna be with you,"

"Well obviously I'm leaving with you, christ sunshine, wasn't just gonna let you wander off home all alone,"

"But you just got here and then I'll ruin your night-" He can tell she's about to ramble so he decides to cut it off quickly

"I'd rather be with you anyway. Alright?" He speaks so softly that if anyone who knew him and hadn't seen him around her before were to see they'd struggle to believe it was him at all.

JJ prides himself on how attentive he is to her needs. No matter the situation he knows what she wants.

Tonight is no different, she's leaning over the toilet of the chateau, JJ is standing behind her rubbing her back comfortingly as he holds her hair back.

She pulls away from the toilet, her face a little sweaty and immediately JJ is passing her a glass of water. She pats the floor next to her and JJ immediately sits. "I wanna give you something," She sighs, her head falling to JJ's shoulder as she hiccups a little

"What is it?" He asks, hand once again finding it's home on her knee, his thumb rubbing gently

"My heart. I wanna give you my heart. How do I do it?" She springs up off his shoulder again, looking at him intensely

"Might take a surgery, we'll leave that one for tomorrow yeah?" He questions gently. He knows he can't let himself, even for a second, think she means what's she's saying. She's intoxicated and she's a sappy drunk and he can't set himself up for that kind of heart break.

"Tomorrow though?"

"Yeah sunshine," He nods.

"You're my best friend JJ, but don't tell Kie," She whispers, although it's still not quiet

"You're mine. But don't tell John B," He hums in response, watching her with a wide smile as she grins, rocking back and forth a little.

"I really love you," She admits, her eyes almost look scared

"I really love you too,"

"No like I really love you. Like I wanna have your babies and be with you all the time kinda love you,"

"You are drunk. You don't know what you're saying," He's more telling himself than her.

"NO!" She shouts, gasping dramatically as though she's offended. "I'm not drunk. If I was drunk could I do this?"

He sits silently for a few seconds, watching as she seems to glare at him instensly.

"What is it you are doing sunshine?" He questions

"I-I'm sending you my love. Did you not get it?" She almost looks like she's about to cry and JJ acts quickly, pulling her into a tight hug. "Can we sleep now blondie?"

"Of course sunshine," He agrees immediately. He lifts her from the floor with ease, placing her onto the bed in the room that might as well belong to him. He makes her down another water, helping her out of her jean shorts and crop top and helping her into one of his tshirts. Passing her a cotton pad with her makeup remover on.

She snuggles into the mattress pulling the duvet up to just under her eyes as she watches JJ get ready for bed. He turns around to face her "Thought you were taking your makeup off sweetheart?"

"No. I want cuddles,"

"You can have cuddles after you take your make up off," he instructs, she sighs dramatically but rubs at her face with the cotton pad.

He climbs into bed next to her, opening his arms and immediately she snuggles into them, tucking her head under his chin and wrapping her arms around him, he holds her close, rubbing her back gently.

"I really am in love with you JJ,"

"Tell me again after you've slept and I'll be yours. Okay sunshine?"

"Okay," She agrees, smiling when she feels him press a kiss to the top of her head "You'll say it back though, right?" She questions, her voice slowly becoming more drowsy

"I promise,"

JJ wakes up to see her still in his arms. She's awake though, staring at him from his chest.

"Are you watching me sleep like a creeper?"

"Are you gonna say it?" She enquires immediately, he doesn't like the way his heart swells, maybe she meant it? maybe it wasn't just her drunk ramblings?

"You need to learn how to hack a drink," He scolds lightly

"Not that JJ,"

"I'm in love with you," He speaks quietly, she jumps immediately, sitting up to straddle him and pulling him up with her.

"I wanna kiss you,"

"Then kiss me," He grins, he doesn't think he's ever been happier.

"I haven't brushed my teeth,"

"I don't care," He laughs a little and she giggles

"I do. C'mon," She pulls him from the bed to follow her.

They brush their teeth, JJ's arms wrapped around her waist as they do so and the second both their toothbrushes are back in the little holder his lips are on hers.

He kisses gently, like he's been waiting for this his whole life and he wants to savour every last second. She figures that maybe he has been.

"JJ, did I mention having your kids last night?" She whispers, foreheads pressed together.

"Yeah. You are never living it down sunshine," He's beaming as she giggles, leaning up to press her lips back to his.

#jj maybank #jj #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #obx fic #obx #jj maybank fic

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