#back to your regular dash

[face-breaker]

what if i had detailed relationship pages for my mains —

[sanctumpyre]

(Arthurtain legends au with the archangels when? Angelic knights of the round table when?)

[sirfrogsworth]

The short answer is... a tilt-shift lens.

The slightly more complicated answer is... Mister Rogers.

Depth of field is the area in front and behind your chosen focus point that remains in focus and then slowly gets blurry as you get farther away.

Shallow depth of field only has a narrow slice of the image in focus and gets blurry super quick. This is caused by a large lens aperture and being close to the subject.

Deep depth of field can extend through the entire picture if your aperture is small and you are super far away.

Usually the depth of field lines up with the image sensor of your camera. So if it is tilted forward, the plane of focus matches.

The stuff outside the green area would be blurry. The edges of the green would be slightly blurry. And the dashed green line would be the sharpest area of the photo.

But the tilt-shift lens allows you to create chaos with your plane of focus. In most cases, you would use this to flatten the depth of field so you can get a 2D plane entirely in focus.

If you were to use a normal lens, the bottom left and top right would be blurry.

But with a tilt-shift lens you can do this.

The green area is taking a little nap on the floor.

However, there is an unintended side effect created by this lens. (The "Scheimpflug intersection" if you want to go down the rabbit hole.) You can choose absolutely wacky planes of focus that create a very narrow depth of field over a geographically large area.

Believe it or not, this is when psychology comes into play.

And possibly Mister Rogers.

Our only reference for such a large area having a shallow depth of field is our memories of miniatures on TV. So Mister Rogers and Thomas the Tank Engine trained our brains to see this effect as... small.

Depth of field shrinks the closer you are to something. And when filming miniatures, you are placing the lens close to the scene. But the scene represents something big in our minds. We buy the effect, but not 100%. That blurriness wouldn't be there at a regular scale. So our subconscious remembers we are watching small things pretending to be big. It just files that away in the back of our mind.

And then when we see something like this...

Our brain is all, "Look at all that tiny shit!"

Without Mister Rogers, our brains may have never made these connections and tilt-shift photography may just make us wonder why everything is all blurry. That connection to past experience is vital for this effect to be convincing.

Brains are neat.

[cocklessboy]

My cat has always had the worst timing. He'll jump up on my desk to cuddle at the very moment I'm about to get up to urgently go to the bathroom. He'll try to curl up with me in bed the very instant I need to get up and refill my glass of water and put some vaseline on my dry, sore lips. He'll ask me to play just at the second I need to end my break and get back to work.

The poor guy, right? From his perspective, he approaches me for love and I immediately get up and leave. I feel awful about it. I try to reassure him first that I love him and he just has bad timing, but I know it can't feel nice, and also he's too big of a dumbass to understand that me getting up and walking away isn't triggered by him coming to say hi.

Except today I realized something: Yes. It is.

I was sitting at my desk watching a video and up jumps the boy with a mrrp, head positioned for pets, when I realized I urgently had to get up and go to the bathroom. As I opened my mouth to say "bad timing again, buddy," it finally occurred to me that... I definitely already had to go. I for sure did not "suddenly" have an urgent need for the toilet out of fucking nowhere.

I didn't realize I needed to go because my brain is piloted by angry gremlins and they were more interested in watching the video than letting me know about an important bodily function.

My cat coming to say hi is a regular trigger that pulls me back into my body from whatever bullshit I'm hyperfocusing on. And that's when I realize all the warning lights are flashing on the dash. Need water. Need food. Need toilet. In pain: need to change position. Holy shit look at the time, need to get back to work!

I now wonder how much worse I'd function if I didn't have a furry little guy in my apartment to regularly remind me that I exist in a physical form which requires maintenance and also that time passes.

I do still feel bad for walking away from him every time, but I have started just inviting him to come with me. Hey bud, sorry, I have to stand up right now, but come follow me while I get a glass of water. You coming? Come on! And rewarding him with pats for following. It's better than just walking away, I think.

Anyway cats (or other pet of your choice that requires frequent attention)? 10/10, strongly encourage having a little guy to bother you now and then, especially if you have ADHD and live alone.

[nightingale-prompts]

Just your average coffee shop AU-DCxDP prompt

What do you do when you've been blacklisted from every coffee chain in Gotham?

You have to find other sources.

That is Tim's current predicament but he put out a few messages out and an informant got back to him about a new café that opened on the outskirts of the city.

There wasn't much else on it other than the fact that it was located in an old cemetery. No details or anything.

Desperate for the black icker that made up his blood by this point Tim went.

Walking down the cobblestone path Tim began to doubt if the shop was real. The decrepit tombstones seemed to be the only people here but as he passed the mausoleums he saw a single stone crypt that had a sign.

Hours:

Tues-Saturday 12pm-3:00 am

Sunday: All day

Mon: Closed

(Vlad Masters is banned)

Tim opened the stone door and heard the faint sound of violins and saxophones. A staircase led deeper to an aged wooden door.

The rusty door henge screeched as he opened the door like a doorbell. The room was a lounge with plush seats and smooth wood tables. A dance floor was in the center currently occupied by well dressed patrons. The scent of fresh dark roast coffee filled the air. A band played live music, it was a blend of gothic folk and Jazz. The booths were filled with a few patrons cheering for the performers as they drank coffee and played cards.

The counter where he could order his drink was a bar. Despite what you'd assume they weren't selling alcohol at least not yet. The man behind the counter beckoned him over.

The barista dressed in a white dress shirt and a black buttoned vest embroidered with a ribcage design. He had fingerless gloves with matching skeletal hand design. The man's face was a pale bit warm tone with a blueish green hue on his cheekbones. His lips were a dark ashen black with a subtle shine. It was probably just the aesthetic.

"Evening, traveler." His voice practically purred as he greeted the weary young man"The rhythm's alive, and the spirits are waiting—how can I make your afterlife?"

"Coffee. Black." Tim said gruffly despite to get it in his system.

"Oh, you got it bad, don't you? Let me get you something that will actually help." The bartender said turning to brew a cup.

Tim's eyes scanned the chalkboard menu that hung above the bar.

Hot Coffee Drinks:

Graveyard Brew – A rich dark roast with a hint of smoked caramel. (Tucker's pick)

Phantom Flat White – A smooth flat white with ghostly foam art. (Danny's pick)

Latté of the Damned– A spiced pumpkin latte with black cinnamon dust. (Jazz's pick)

Eternal Espresso– A bold, double-shot espresso.

The Velvet Casket – Mocha with dark chocolate and a touch of vanilla.

Sepulcher Spice – Chai-spiced coffee with a hint of nutmeg. (Val's pick)

Necromancer’s Nitro – Nitro cold brew with a dash of maple syrup. (Dan's pick)

Iced Coffee Drinks:

Cold-Brew Crypt– Smooth cold brew with a splash of sweet cream.

Chilled Cadaver– Iced coffee with coconut milk and a shot of hazelnut. (Dani's pick)

The Frosted Requiem – Blended mocha with chocolate drizzle.

Soulful Swirl– Iced latte with caramel and a swirl of blackcurrant syrup.

Moonlit Macchiato– Vanilla macchiato with activated charcoal. (Sam's pick)

Tim definitely sensed a theme here.

"I added a few shots of expresso and some dark chocolate liquor. It should get you right and some minor heart palpitations. I think I'll call it 'The Black Veil'." The barista smiled very cat-like.

"Am I getting my name on the board?" Tim quipped without thinking as he sipped the hot coffee. Actually, it was cooler than he thought it would be. It was the perfect temperature. And the taste was amazing.

"Only if you're a regular and I think your drink might be too much for anyone else." The barista laughed softly.

"So...this place is pretty um...gothic?"

"This place used to be just for the dead but we've recently over up to the living."

"Heh, I get it."

"Get what?"

Tim coughed awkwardly. He didn't want to stop talking to the goth barista yet and the quality coffee was convincing. Maybe it was the environment. It was like walking into a different world.

"So what's this place called? So I know what Im coming back to." Tim tried to sound cool but let's face it, he's been beat.

"This is the Catacomb Club. Where the spirits swing and the night never sleeps. You should come again soon, cutie. I think I got a good surge of inspiration just looking at you." He purred in delight as he leaned over the bar tapped Tim's cheek.

Tim felt his face burn, the touch felt like electricity tickling his skin. A string of babbling seemed to come out of this mouth as he tried to respond.

"Heh heh, don't keep me waiting dear," he laughed "Oh, and by the way. My name is Danny. Catch me in the early shift. My brother works the late shift mixing the alcohol. But if you want you can catch me on the stage or on the dance floor. I might even make you an extra cup or two." Danny said.

Tim found his footsteps on the way up lighter and only when he made it back the cematary gate did he notice.

He never paid.

[bluelockmaniac]

꒰ WILL YOU MARRY ME? ꒱₊ ⊹

▯ synopsis. how bllk boys propose to you ★ ft. sae, rin, kaiser, nagi x fem!reader

YOU CHOOSE WHETHER OR NOT YOU ACCEPT THEIR PROPOSAL !

itoshi sae. private, no words, & silent romance.

sae taking you out on late-night, fancy dinner dates was a regular occurrence. what was unusual tonight, however, was the way his sharp gaze lingered keenly on your every movement as you slid on your thigh-high stockings.

the mattress dips next to you, and you glance up innocently to see your boyfriend, dressed in a simple yet elegant beige suit. he appeared as calm and composed as ever, yet there was something unfamiliar about his approach that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

to your surprise, he takes your hand, caressing it gently with his thumb before sliding an intricate diamond ring onto your ring finger. your breath hitches as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. he peers up at you through his thick lashes, lacing his fingers through yours, chuckling softly at the sight of your ridiculously wide eyes.

but you feel something else, this time resting in your other hand's palm. two tickets to spain.

PROPOSAL: ACCEPTED or REJECTED?

itoshi rin. also private, but awkward.

it had been an entire hour since rin had asked you to leave your shared bedroom. you had complied without question, assuming that perhaps he needed time to analyze a football game to prepare for an upcoming match, and you perfectly understood how important his career was to him.

suddenly, you heard your boyfriend's peculiar, startling voice calling out to you from the room. you immediately turned off your television, dashing to the sound of his urgent words. you burst open through the door, only to abruptly collide into his firm chest. your hand flew to your face to rub your nose in pain, but you quickly noticed the slight quivering of his fingers as he shut the door behind you.

his eyes take you in with uncharacteristic nervousness, before strangely glancing away as his hand digs into his suit pocket . . . suit?

your mouth hangs open in shock as he fishes out a velvety crimson ring box. however, much to his dismay, his attempt at trying to open the small, lavish box fell short of his expectations as it slipped from his restless grip and hit the ground with a soft thud.

"fuck," he curses under his breath.

the white-gold tapered ring spun in its place momentarily, before coming to a rest in front of you.

PROPOSAL: ACCEPTED or REJECTED?

michael kaiser. semi-public, romantic.

you thought you would never catch kaiser dropping down on one knee to slip a pretty ring onto your finger. and you were right— you wouldn't.

a pair of cerulean eyes were glued to you as you gave your order to the waitress. their owner swirled his glass of champagne, a subtle, persistent smirk resting on his lips. you felt him brazenly intertwine his fingers with yours, gently rubbing your knuckles as you made an effort to quietly ignore his gesture.

kaiser took this opportunity, while your attention was on the waitress, to deftly maneuver a three-stone rose quartz ring onto your finger. you hadn’t even noticed the cold touch of the metal band around your skin, assuming it was just his cool fingertips.

as the waitress left, you glanced back at kaiser and furrowed your brows in embarrassment when you realized he had been staring at you intently this entire time. “what? is there something on my face?" you asked, tilting your head to the side.

he grins, setting his glass on the table before pulling out a red rose and tossing it to where you hand lay. “no, meine liebe,” he teased, pointing to your hand, “but there certainly is something on your finger.”

curious, you glanced down and almost immediately, a loud gasp escaped past your parted lips, drawing the attention of diners around you.

PROPOSAL: ACCEPTED or REJECTED?

seishiro nagi. straight to the point.

"mmh, baby, 'was your ring size?" he mumbles, adjusting his head on his comfortable pillow (your lap) slightly. your hand freezes, halting the pleasant motion of your fingers raking through his snowy white hair.

"heyyy..." he whines, poking your thigh gently, "keep going, don' stop..."

you quickly nudge his head, eliciting a low groan from the large man. "sei... are you planning to propose to me?" you ask, meeting his gaze with hope.

he pushes himself up, sitting cross-legged on the bed, then pulls you onto his lap. he blinks sleepily before sighing, then resting his hands on both of your cheeks. "i thought we were practically married, but reo kept nagging me about buyin' you a ring or something..."

he leans in closer, forehead meeting yours. he strokes your lip with his thumb before taking you by surprise with a lazy kiss. he pulls away and looks back at you, eyes wordlessly demanding answers.

"well?" he tilts his head. "will you marry me?"

PROPOSAL: ACCEPTED or REJECTED?

a/n: me personallyyy . . . all four will be accepted but a girl can dream .

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[deadsetobsessions]

Of all the places he could have been summoned to, Danny Phantom had never considered a private school’s bathroom to be one of them.

With glowing green skin, a shock of flickering flames for hair, and a suit made out of the spaces between collapsing stars, Danny stared down at the stupefied faces of Gotham Academy’s finest students. One of them had their face in their hands, having caught sight of him and undergoing all the stages of grief in but a moment.

They sat around a circle that he was appropriately impressed with considering the limited space they had to work with. Danny could see the empty stalls, some of which were adorned with drawings and writings that were left by the, no-doubt, extremely busy caretaker.

“Seriously, a bathroom?” Danny wrinkled his nose.

“Holy shit, that actually worked?” One of the kids blurted out, then slammed their hands on top of their mouth.

“Did you expect it not to?” Danny squinted at them, frowning. It’s Friday, so it’s not like he had much to do, but Danny would prefer it if his time wasn’t wasted.

“No- no, your… uh, highness?”

“All of that schooling and you’re still uneducated,” one of the other ones hissed at the red headed kid who spoke. It’s “Your Majesty.” He’s a king, idiot!”

That was a pretty solid burn but, “It’s actually just Phantom. Did you guys want something? I’m busy.”

He’s not busy, but who cares?

“Uh…” the kids exchanged glances. The one in the back sighed and spoke up. He adjusted his glasses.

“We’re sorry for bothering you, Phantom. You wouldn’t happen to have a solution for dimensional separation, would you?”

“Huh.” Danny tilted his head, face souring. “I hate dimensional issues. They’re the worst. Who’s causing them?”

“His name’s Klarion!” The one who slapped a hand across his mouth earlier piped up.

“Oh! The lords of chaos or whatever. Yeah, I can help, for a price.”

Danny is against unpaid labor. Extremely against it, considering his side gig is being a half-dead vigilante. Then again, are you really a vigilante if you’re not half dead on a regular basis?

“What do you want?” Despite the reluctance from earlier, it’s clear the one with the glasses made the big decisions in this weird friend group.

“… A hundred dollars.”

“That’s it? No stipulations?” When Danny nodded, the kid had a calculating expression. “Deal.” The teen said immediately. He pulled out cash and wow, Danny’s definitely in a place with a different tax bracket.

He snatched it. Nasty burger money!

“Deal’s a deal. Also, don’t ever summon me again, but if you do, don’t ever do it in a bathroom again. You kids are so weird.” Danny floated out of the circle, grinning sharply. He formed a small bird- he doesn’t know why, but it felt right- of ice and handed it to the kid with glasses. “There. Proof of the deal.”

With that, Danny disappeared. Private school kids were so fucking weird, but… Dash and his goons were probably worse. What’s a little ritualistic summoning in the face of teenagers?

——

“I leave you guys alone for ten minutes and you summon the king of the dead?” Robin narrowed his eyes at his teammates, traitors who had the good graces to look sheepish. “How could you?! I wanted to try, too!”

Kid Flash patted him on the shoulder, a granola bar appearing in his mouth now that the possible world ending terror disappeared. “Sorry, Rob. Maybe next time! Magic still isn’t real though.”

“I’m not doing this shit in a bathroom again,” Artemis rolled back to her feet. “He sounded like he was going to rip our bones out if we ever summoned him in a bathroom again.”

“Ugh…”

[teaboot]

Sorry if this comes off as rude, or too personal, but how do you still have the mental strength to be like you are, after everything you've gone through? Like, not to make suffering a competition, but from what you've shared, it seems like you've had to deal with so much more than most, and yet you're still able to create, engage in the things you love and enjoy, and even wish better for the people who'd only want the worst for you. As someone who hasn't been able to do any of those for a while now, or feel anything beyond a sticky sense of resentment, I'd appreciate the words of someone who's been in shit miles deeper, if that isn't too much trouble. Sorry if this whole thing sounds weird, and thanks for being one of the weird funny guys on my dash, you've given me lots of laughs when I've needed them.

Oh, wow. Uh.

I think first off- not to minimize my experiences cause my therapist says not to do that- but I have a LOT of friends and loved ones who have been through much worse and are also doing good now, so that kinda helps. Knowing that if they got through things, I can too, and they don’t think less of ME for struggling.

Secondly… I think I used to not be so happy about life. I was really angry, really sharp and ascerbic, and when people who met me matched my energy, they’d be sharp and ascerbic back. And so I’d trap myself in this place where life ALREADY sucked, and then everyone around me was awful, so I’D be awful, and it would turn into this absolute mire of bad feeding bad.

And then one day I think after a long good cry in a public toilet, I just felt… better? Not BETTER, because I still had all my problems, but I think I was riding that post-cry high you get sometimes and the sun just looked brighter, and the annoying kids around me were just… less aggravating. The dumb teen boys being idiots were less “stupid morons with no depth who don’t care and can’t think” were just… regular old dumbasses having fun. And then I said hello to someone with a smile, and they smiled back, and we had this great conversation I never would have had otherwise, and I figured out that people are kind to you when you’re kind first.

Which seems obvious, but like… it’s hard to see anyone else when you’re hurting. And so when people are cruel or rude to me, I just think… wow. People probably see you being an asshole and treat you like an asshole. You probably see your own bad attitude reflected back at you everywhere you go, just like I did, and you probably have no idea. Every stranger you meet is a rude bitch who hates your face, and you’ll never be able to go anywhere that isn’t full of tense, defensive, cranky bastards until you figure out that YOU are causing the bulk of it. Like a dog trying to run from the shit on its tail.

And the idea of living your whole life where nobody is happy to see you, nobody truly enjoys your company, everyone is walking on eggshells and waiting for you to snap on them…. That’s a pretty sad and painful way to live your whole entire life.

So like. I try to treat people kindly, and in return I get to see happy people wherever I go. I try to make them laugh, and listen to them talk, and once they do they aren’t frightening or annoying or strange anymore.

most people, at least.

So like… I don’t think “look on the bright side” is the right answer, but maybe… find something good to believe in, and hold on.

I believe that people at large are good and kind or at least trying their best, and that those who can’t or aren’t are… sort of pitiable.

They don’t know where their pain is coming from, and they can’t make it go away, and it’s been like that so long they probably think the whole world is just LIKE that. So they never really get to experience the good things. And that’s… kind of like a hell, I think, in a way.

I don’t believe in karma. I don’t think I’m religious. I just think that we all want similar things, and we all fear similar things, and the ways we go about getting to or running from those things is different.

….if any of that makes sense.

[bowtiepasta]

HIGHWAY BOYS

a honey packet from a gas station. a bet with vi. someone’s about to eat their words — and get very right in the process.

smut! minors & ageless blogs do not interact. indulging: afab and f!reader (she/her), aphrodisiac, in car, slight exhibitionism, oral, hair pulling, semi switch!vi, dom!reader

it’s a flimsy little thing — most likely expired, the kind nestled between knock-off colognes and novelty sized lube in neon packaging, baked in the heat.

you notice it as soon as she sets it on the dash, with the rest of your gas station haul: sour candy, two ice-cold cans of monster, her choice of hot chip, and an absolute disgrace to breakfast subs.

“honey?” you say, holding it up. “really?”

“you planning to sweeten your hot cheetos?”

she smirks. “no. I was thinking of sweetening you.”

you raise an eyebrow but you don’t argue, flicking on the A/C as she pulls back onto the road. cornball.

the sun’s starting to dip, painting everything in gold — the kind that makes even cracked pavement and faded fast food signs look warm.

“climb over and sit on my lap.”

you blink. “what?”

she nods to the car in front of you. it hasn’t moved. “we’ve got time.”

“you are not serious-”

“I’m starving,” vi says, patting her thigh.

your pulse beats in places it shouldn’t while you’re still technically clothed. “come feed me, sugar.”

you don’t realize you’re moving until you’re halfway over the console. the steering wheel digs into your back, and the seatbelt locks for a second, but then her hands are on your hips and she’s dragging you down.

“…it looks like it came out of a bunker.”

“that’s the charm,” she laughs, taking it from you. “end-of-the-world fallout shelter cuisine.”

you roll your eyes. “what-fucking-ever. you do realize this is an aphrodisiac, right?”

“no, it was 55 cents. next to the condoms.”

“do you hear yourself?”

she gives you a look. “you’re full of shit.”

“you’re about to be full of something,” you say sweetly. she swats at your shoulder but turns away and breathes out of her nose the way you know she does when she’s trying not to laugh.

she tears it open, tips her head back, and squeezes the thick syrup into her mouth. it’s warm from your palm, malty, sticky, ridiculously sweet. she drags her thumb along the edge and sucks it clean.

you clear your throat. “okay, if I start moaning in five minutes, you’re driving us straight to jail.”

vi snorts. “baby, if you start moaning in five minutes, I’m not letting you stop. plus, nothing’s gonna happen.” she adjusts in her seat. “just regular honey.”

“wanna bet?”

you snatch the half-crushed packet from her hand.

“..bet?” she tilts her head, grabbing your other and kissing the back of it before she lets you get to work. “bet on what?”

you peel the flap open with your teeth and draw a line of it straight down your tongue while she watches. it’s cloying and weirdly metallic — god knows how long it’s been sitting on that shelf — yet you don’t flinch when you swallow. you even moan a little, just to sell it.

vi nearly chokes on her own spit.

you lick a glob off your lip. “you good there?”

she tries to laugh, but it cracks in the middle. “pfft. yeah. keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

you do — dragging a finger through the golden mess and licking it clean like you’ve got all the time in the world. her gaze drops to your mouth, then flickers back up like she’s trying not to react, but her grip on your waist tightens, a dead giveaway.

“you sure you don’t wanna tap out?” you almost coo, leaning forward enough to put pressure where it counts. “you’re looking a little-”

“stop being a tease,” she mutters, voice low.

you laugh into her neck. “what’s wrong?”

somewhere between “fuck” and “please,” she realizes she was wrong. very wrong.

when you tug her boxers aside and put your mouth on her for real, the sound she makes punches straight through you. her thighs tremble around your shoulders as your tongue moves in her, and she lets out a breath that sounds like a prayer and a threat all in one.

you swear she tastes like honey.

there’s a knock on the window — the drive-thru worker, deadpan and holding a tray of paper bags. vi’s voice is hoarse when she leans forward to grab them, one hand still buried in your hair.

vi huffs, rolling her hips in a desperate attempt to gain control, but you’re not having any of it. “you’re so stubborn,” you murmur, before sucking her clit into your mouth, tongue circling, then flattening, then flicking in that perfect rhythm that makes her fall apart every time. her hips jerk forward, and you let her grind against your mouth, messy and uncontrolled.

the way her stomach clenches when you suck harder, the way she jerks when you add your fingers, curling them just right—

she may not be winning this bet. but she’s definitely getting lucky.

you’re in the parking lot now, and she’s close. you feel it in the way her thighs shake, in how she’s cursing under her breath, “baby, baby, baby, fuuuuck-”

the car rocks faintly with every twitch. her jeans are pushed down, the windows fogged up around you both, cocooning you in.

you stay with her through it, mouth gentle now, coaxing every last shudder from her until she’s sagging boneless against the seat, chest heaving.

“jesus,” vi says, voice shaky. she glances down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, a lazy, crooked grin tugging at her lips. “get your ass back up here.”

“you wanted to prove a point?” her thumb swipes at your chin while you readjust on her lap. and you move to kiss her again, but she swerves.

vi slides down to her knees on the floorboard. “let’s see how long that smug little mouth of yours holds up.”

“now you drive.”

listened to roses by the chainsmokers while writing this i’m on a weird nostalgia kick recently. vi nation are we alive and well

i might start writing for cait because i’m tweaking the fuck out i can’t keep pretending i wouldn’t throw everything away for her (and mel)

[shotmrmiller]

(secret lovers but simon will not be kept a secret.)

you hadn't liked him from the get go. amongst the regulars that frequent the place you work at serving drinks, had been him; a burly, massive figure that commanded attention even though his clothes were nondescript and blended into the shadows created by the sickly, flickering lights overhead. his broad shoulders were squared, imposing, the fabric of his faded jeans stretched taut over his knees, tapering down to his scuffed sneakers.

him appearing a menace isn't what made him stand out. it doesn't even make him special, to be honest. one too many rowdy oafs call this hole in the wall a haven, seeking solace at the bottom of a thick glass.

it's the very air around him. it's heavy, muted, as if absorbing sound and movement. that one time you had the displeasure of personally handing him an beer, it'd felt suffocating, pressed down on you, made it hard to breathe. the stillness had been almost palpable, the usual hum of the bar nought but a distant buzz, even the clank of the chilled glass on the table had seemed muffled.

you'd felt the drink slosh over the rim in your haste to get away, retreat, escape. he hadn't even glanced your way and you'd been overwhelmed.

fucking hell.

and that's not the worst of it. the way he looks at people is unsettling. his beady eyes glint with a manic, rabid hunger, fixated on any bare legs that come into his field of view, as if he sees nothing but prey. that turns the discomfort that pricks at your skin into disgust.

revolting bull of a man is a pervert to boot.

(sometimes he comes in with others, 3 much more approachable, charismatic men that pop that personal bubble of oppressive silence he brings with him with their boisterous laughter and lively chatter. they're good folk except for when they want to act like your eyes are on your chest.)

so it's a true shame you spent weeks snarking about how foul he is when he's one of the best lays you've ever had in your life. (and continues to be.)

it's all discreet, of course. you can't be caught having a thing with the man you'd cursed up, down and sideways because he wouldn't stop staring at the tits you let him come on that same week.

you wouldn't even know how to explain how all of this started. that'd he'd been a surprised you and strong armed a belligerent drunk off the property for you a while back? that he'd happened to be around when your car got a flat, pulled out a jack from the bed of his truck and told you to sit your 'pretty arse' inside while he changed it? or that after the nth night of him being the very last patron, you realized he'd only leave after you were done with restocking and ready to close up shop?

you kept it all of it on the down low. pretended you couldn't feel his eyes on you, boring holes into the side of your head while at work then garble out his name through the fingers you're drooling over after work.

and it stayed that way for a while. he never stayed longer than you let him (not like that meant anything, he barely let you out the bed to pick up the door dash before he sat you on the countertop and lapped at your sore cunt until you came.)

he rarely used his phone so there was no worry about sudden texts while you had friends around.

it seemed a fine thing at the time. but then he started sitting at the bar top instead of his usual corner haunt, occasionally calling you over with a curl of his fingers (the ones he had you lick clean last night.) he stopped being a total lech, keeping his eyes glued onto you and you only, being so blatant about it that your co-workers offered to walk you to your car later.

embarrassing. you'd meant to give him a talk about laying off the intensity of his stare but it slipped your mind when he slipped into you from behind while fisting your hair.

when your boss is the one that gives you the stranger danger talk, even though you have said strangers love bites mottling the junction of your shoulder, you decide that enough is enough. so after your shift, you ask to speak with him.

only to have him snort in your face.

"don't think so."

before you get to say anything else, he's sitting you on the hood of his truck, legs hooked over his shoulders, eye level with your bare pussy because he'd stuffed your knickers into his pocket before work.

the first glide of his tongue between your folds is deliberately slow, tip catching the bundle of nerves at the top. your palm stings from digging your nails into it.

the second sends a shiver licking up your spine, his hands dimpling the soft of your thighs to keep you from squirming.

"look at me."

your body reacts instinctively at the low, grating tone of his voice and you're peering down at him before your mind can even catch up.

he nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "best get used to 'avin' me 'round." this was no conversation.

the tips of his fingers grazing over your wet heat, gently prodding the entrance. when he sinks them in, scissoring, thrusting, you realize he's not going to let you come.

this isn't a reward. this is about to be your punishment.

slick glistens on his knuckles under the streetlight as he undoes the zipper of his jeans, the sound of the metal teeth deafening in your prickling ears.

simon puts his hand close to your mouth like he's done in the bedroom, and you spit on it, like you've done in the bedroom.

the searing (but oh so good) burn is both familiar and not when you take him to the root, a shuddering breath escaping your quivering lips at the sensation of him filling you until the seams feel like they're becoming undone.

he lowers his head to nose your sweat-slick temple, large hands flat by your sides. his breaths warm your throat as he speaks.

"i won't be your dirty little secret, pet."

a hand creeps up to the nape of your neck, claiming a fistful of hair. simon pulls a sibilant hiss from you when he tugs hard enough to ache.

ouch.

"can't shove me in a closet and pocket the key." he rolls his hips once, twice before widening his stance.

oh.

oh no.

"now be good and let me take what's mine."

there'd been no arguing with him before he fucked you in earnest, and certainly not after when he takes you home, spend dripping onto his seat on the way there, where he makes you ride him on the driveway, only letting you go inside once he felt he got his message across.

(message understood.)

the next morning you wake to sore thighs, a throbbing pussy, a dry mouth and a text from your boss.

i've got cameras outside the place, by the way. go home next time.

at least you didn't get fired 🥴

[milkloafy]

I COULD BE YOUR CRUSH — WRIOTHESLEY

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: you gush about your crush to neuvillette over some tea, and your crush unexpectedly joins the tea party and overhears you talking about him. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: fluff, fem!reader (use of princess as a petname), sassy neuvi, mentions of ayato ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.2k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: alexa play crush by tessa violet,, LOL i was thinking so hard about the song title then i was like okay yeah these lyrics work ;-; titles are so hard.. anywayyy PLS ENJOY SOME WRIO FLUFF FOR THE SOUL !!

“You just don’t understand, Neuvillette,” you sighed dramatically, stabbing your fork into the delicate cake in front of you. “He’s totally swoon-worthy.”

Neuvillette took a sip of his tea before carefully placing the cup back on its saucer. For a while, he continued to stay silent, as if considering his words.

Once he finally opened his mouth, the only question that came out was a calm, “How so?”

It didn’t take long for a million reasons to pop into your head.

“Well…have you seen his arms?” you gushed. “Is that not enough of a reason in itself?”

Neuvillette scoffed, a smile of amusement playing on his lips.

“That’s not all, of course,” you clarified, grabbing a throw pillow from the sofa next to you and hugging it close to your chest. “He’s also caring and kind and treats everyone with respect, no matter who they are.” 

Neuvillette’s gaze flickered briefly to the door behind you, but you paid it no mind.

“Not to mention how he looks when he gets all serious. Neuvillette, have you ever seen him talk about a prisoner he had to punish? It’s so…” You hid your face behind the pillow, cheeks flaming at the thought.

Before you had a chance to collect yourself, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You immediately stilled in your seat, slowly bringing the pillow back down to your lap.

“Sorry I’m late. Who are we talking about?”

Neuvillette smiled, ignoring your frantic look directed right at him. “Wriothesley, welcome. You are not too late. Please, take a seat.”

Wriothesley slipped onto the sofa, taking a seat next to you. Neuvillette poured him a cup of tea that he graciously accepted. Looking over at you, Wriothesley brought the drink up to his face and asked, “Care to tell me who you were speaking of before I arrived? It sounded like you were singing their praises.”

You fiddled with the the hem of your silk pajamas— Neuvillette failed to inform you beforehand that a certain someone would be joining the tea party, so you appeared in your regular sleep clothes. You racked your brain trying to come up with a response. 

“Oh, you know… Kamisato Ayato,” you managed, vaguely remembering how you saw his name and face on the cover of The Steambird recently. “The head of the Kamisato clan is such a…dashing and strong leader. I think.” 

“I didn’t realize you were close to Kamisato,” commented Wriothesley, sitting with one leg loosely draped over the other as he leaned back against the sofa.

“Oh,” you shook your head, “no. No, I’ve never even met him.”

Wriothesley raised a singular eyebrow in question. “Your words earlier seemed so strong for something directed at a man you have never met.” 

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even though your heart threatened to beat our of your chest. “You know how enamored a crush can make someone.” 

“I do,” Wriothesley agreed, his gaze locked onto yours so intensely that you almost had to blink.

“I’m sure you do,” remarked Neuvillette, still sipping his tea.

You and Wriothesley both looked over at him.

Neuvillette blinked. “Did you forget I was here? This is my office, is it not?” When no one responded, he sighed. “Well, I finished the last of my tea and I have some work to wrap up. Feel free to stay as long as you need.”

Neuvillette made his way back to his desk and Wriothesley refocused his attention towards you. 

“So. Kamisato Ayato,” he brought the clan leader up once more.

You choked out a laugh of exasperation. “Are we still on this? Just let me have my silly little crush on someone across the world who doesn’t even know I exist.”

Tapping his fingers against the teacup, Wriothesley huffed. You realized he looked almost annoyed and frustrated.

Just as you were about to ask him what was wrong, Wriothesley opened his mouth and said, “Would it be overbearing of me to say I wish you had said a different name when I asked who you were gushing over?”

A strange mixture of curiosity and hope filled your chest.

Curiosity as to who he thought you were talking about. Hope that maybe he thought it might’ve been him. 

“You could never be overbearing,” you assured, grabbing a small biscuit from the table and softening it up in your warm tea. “Would it be nosy of me to ask who you wished I was gushing over?”

Wriothesley grinned. “You are certainly nosy. But it’s one of the things I like about you.”

You laughed, wiping a crumb off your lip with a napkin. “Does that mean you won’t tell me?”

“Perhaps another day.”

In the distance, you heard Neuvillette clear his throat loudly. You looked over and saw him glaring straight at Wriothesley. They stayed like that for a while, having a silent conversation with their eyes. Whatever it was, it seemed intense. You were quite glad that glare wasn’t directed at you.

“I believe Wriothesley would like to share that information with you now,” Neuvillette announced after Wriothesley looked away with a sigh.

“Does he?”

“I do,” Wriothesley confirmed, the slightest bit begrudgingly. “Me.”

You waited for him to say more, but he didn’t elaborate. 

You blinked. “What about you?” 

“Are you going to make me say it?” Wriothesley let out a strangled laugh, grabbing a biscuit to munch on himself. “When I overheard you and Neuvillette talking about your crush, I was hoping it was about me.”

You blinked. “Why about you?” 

Neuvillette made a strange noise as a book fell off his desk. He cleared his throat. “Pardon me.”

You barely had time to wonder if he was okay before Wriothesley finally responded.

“You really don’t make things easy for me, isn’t that right, princess?” Wriothesley said with a helpless smile. “I hoped you were saying such sweet things about me, since I would say equally sweet things about you.”

With your stomach turning at both the pet name and his admission, you managed to say, “And if I were to tell you it really was about you?”

“That would make me a very happy man,” he said, unable to contain his delight. “Who wouldn’t be happy to hear the most beautiful and caring person they know is interested in them as well?”

You heard Neuvillette tap his foot impatiently in the background, but you ignored him. You and Wriothesley were having a moment here. 

“So, you’re saying you like me, too?” you asked, not wanting there to be any chance of a misunderstanding. The two of you made it this far, you couldn’t let it fall apart now.

“I like you very much,” said Wriothesley with a nod. “And I have something to take care of at the Fortress this week, but when we both have time next week, perhaps we can celebrate with a dinner. Without Neuvillette there.”

“Please, without me there,” Neuvillette chimed in, his arms folded as he sat in his chair.

You laughed, standing up and brushing the imaginary dust off your pajamas. “All right, I can take a hint, Neuvillette. I’ll help you clean up before I go. And Wriothesley…” 

“Hmm?”

You met his gaze and the corners of his eyes crinkled. You fought off a giggle as you returned Wriothesley’s smile, an overwhelming feeling of happiness filling you. “It’s a date.”

[babachira]

an assassin and his healer

nagumo yoichi x doctor!reader

── ⟢

+ having graduated with an assassination-medical major, a very small sub-department in the JCC where only the skilled in human science are found, you're technically a licensed doctor for any regular citizen who wants a simple check-up. you have a job in the clinic near sakamoto's store during the day, but during your assassination hours, you deal with injuries ranging from critical to a scratch. you took four years of apprenticeship under granny miya, so you tend to follow her ideology of 'the patient can be healed as long as they're not dead'.

+ your graduation was a special case. the JCC considered scrapping your department due to the lack of applications, but you excelled in combining the assets of poisons and weapons, making equipment like a portable bandaid or even discovering the smallest of pressure points that could enhance someone's strength, which floored their views. after witnessing a presentation of your projects, they decided to keep it up and running just to see what you were capable of, and thank god they did, otherwise, you would've had nowhere to go.

+ you met the famous trio during their prime when you were all 16, and you were fully aware of the fact that if they had no interest in someone, it would be drastically clear. you thought this was the case for you too since no one really appreciated your work because it wasn't 'strong' like the assassination majors, but when you received a personal congrats from them, it took you by surprse.

+ hell, when you saw them enter your lab without a word, you quirked your brows, pausing from pulling the trigger of your flamethrower. upon request from your weapons department friends, you were in the middle of melting a large batch of energy-fuelling pills. you slowly put the flamethrower down on your desk. "if i knew i was having such esteemed guests, i would've cleaned the place up a bit. to what do i owe the pleasure?"

+ but before they could answer, the three of them were hovering over your pile of books, empty beakers and box of surgical equipment. rion plucked a grey glass bottle from your top shelf, which you reserved for your most expensive creations, before popping the lid off.

+ she sniffed the top of it and gave a "hm!" of approval before taking a swig. "wow, this is actually pretty good," rion said, smacking her lips together and offering some to sakamoto, who only took the bottle from her hands, "what's this one for? my stomach feels like it's doing backflips."

+ you folded your arms. "that's because it's for serious internal bleeding. you're only really meant to take it when, you know, you're only puking an alarming amount of blood." rion nodded in acknowledgement and dangled the empty bottle with a grin. "ah, gotcha. no internal bleeding for me now!"

+ "mmm, i prefer this flavour." your eyes flit over to nagumo yoichi, the insufferable student that had all the girls swooning in seconds, swiping four potions from your shelf and stuffing them in his pocket. "i'll come back again to try more!"

+ "wait, you just came here to take my stuff?" you asked, stopping the three in their tracks. sure, it's . . . fine that they stole your things without permission, but your lab was usually off-limits for those who didn't belong in your department. well, now that you think about it, when did these three ever follow rules?

+ rion waved her hand. "we'd love to talk, babes, but we gotta dash. will use these potions well, though!"

+ and nagumo added with a more enthusiastic wave, "keep a separate shelf just for me!"

+ and they left, leaving you to finish your work of delivering pills to the weapons department. they were a funny bunch, you always thought as you sometimes passed by them in the hallway. rion would always strike a conversation whenever you bumped into each other. she was always so sweet to you. sakamoto occasionally asked how your projects were going since it was a season of missions being carried out more often than ever, so you were ever-so-busy with surgeries. nagumo had the biggest grin on his face as he bombarded you with requests like a strawberry and lemon flavoured potion for his fatigue. they were strange but fun all the same.

+ since then, they made a common appearance, sometimes it was just rion who wanted to have a chat. you got along well, getting to know her likes and dislikes, laughing along when she verbally tore sakamoto and nagumo apart like they were shreds of paper. other times, it was nagumo alone and when it was just him, it was like a spitfire of insults after insults.

+ when nagumo is fiddling with one of your brain-relaxing equipments that you made just a week ago, he realises that you're a lot quieter when it's just him, when rion and sakamoto aren't present. "hm? why is it when akao and sakamoto are here, you have so much to say, but you're silent when it's me?" and honestly, it felt like a big slap to the face because wow, it was true.

+ ". . . shut up," you said, earning a chuckle from him. "the whole building will be able to hear you yapping."

+ today, a few years after their first intrusion in your lab, nagumo is taller and different at the age of 19. he wasn't more mature per se, but he definitely carried a more confident wittier aura that you didn't recognise from before. you, at 19 were renowned for your fantastic creations. one of your best moments was when you received a commission from an order member albeit a small one. your efforts were so well-recognised that applications for your department were growing much to your pleasure. rion congratulated you a lot, sakamoto actually used your creations and nagumo had never broken his streak of making sure to visit you almost everyday.

+ and you don't know when you started to feel this way, but whenever nagumo entered the room, time seemed to go painfully slower as though he was staying in your lab for longer than you thought. your equations for perfecting brain damage potions seemed harder than normal and you just couldn't seem to find that one blueprint that was always in its same place. even nagumo went, "it's this one, no? it was right under your hands" much to your embarrassment. your brain was scattered whenever he was near you and you really hated it.

+ and what was worse is that he noticed all this and was enjoying it.

+ "is my (name) . . . a little distracted?"

+ yes, yes. infuriatingly so, you think as you watch nagumo bounce over to where you stand in the far corner of your lab. he has that mischevious grin, the one that you want to melt off his annoyingly-handsome face. did it never occur to him that you couldn't work at your best whenever his talkative ass was in the room? is he really that stupid that you have to say, "nagumo, i need to do my work," then deal with those big eyes of his begging to stay? if he was a little less insufferable, maybe you would've─

+ you freeze. wait, he said 'my?'

+ and nagumo, his face creased with laughter, sees the cogs whir in your brain as you finally realise that he really just indirectly labelled you as his.

+ "don't tell me you've been ignoring me for that long."

+ and much to your dismay, it hits you that yeah, he's always been there. "wow! my (name) seems to like today's lunch! i don't see you here that often!" he once commented when you sat with him at the cafeteria. "the food's not always so great, but today seems ok."

+ or the other time when you had a first-year student schedule an appointment with you because he wanted advice for his weapons. nagumo saw him waiting outside your lab. "hmm, my (name) is a bit busy today! why don't you come back later?" he said while he was opening the door to waltz in, "ah! my (name) i've come to bother you!" he sang before slamming the door. you didn't manage to see the poor kid because nagumo took up your entire evening.

+ and you really did find yourself making a separate cabinet just for nagumo. even to this day, at the ripe age of 27, you made soothing creams for burns, motion sickness pills and gums for him to chew on for whenever osaragi would drive. his placement as an order member made him busier but never enough to keep him away from you. whenever you're at the clinic for your day-job, nagumo made frequent appearances. he'd lean on the front desk and request for his usual "lovely, lovely and beautifully perfected doctor," even when you're literally standing there, typing away at the computer. "yoichi, you're really doing this on my shift." it would never stop him. "i am your shift!"

+ he's surprisingly romantic for someone with little dating history. he's had a few girlfriends in the past but because of his occupation, they obviously don't last long. with you though? though not a fully-fledged assassin yourself, you're part of that world, his world, so you understand the burden and pressure that comes with it. just like nagumo is tasked with completing his missions with no mistakes, you're equally expected to never fail a surgery, always finish on time and come up with new ideas. it's a cycle where you both have each other backs.

+ like, as much as he jokes, he's very proud of your achievements. as an order member himself, he'd probably commission you a lot and if anyone needs surgical assistance or high-tech weapons, he'd be quick to mention your name. of course, he hesitates just a little because he doesn't want to share, but for the better of your work, he puts your name out there.

+ he doesn't get heavily injured because he's scarily skilled. his 'gold assassin's license' that he boasts about keeps him protected, but just to rile you up, he'd limp in through your clinic or house, crying for the kiss of the doctor that he's come to adore. if you're at the clinic, you need to appear more professional because you have people you see everyday watching you care for this grown ass man wailing his guts out. if you're at home, you're much more relaxed and honestly, so's nagumo as he leans into your delicate touch.

+ generally, he's so proud and whipped about the fact that you're a doctor and are so capable of doing what you do. he has extensive knowledge on poisons, so he tries to add his recommendations from time to time and he's grateful whenever you take it. on the rare case that you don't, he acts hurt, "oh . . . my (name) doesn't like my idea," and he'd jokingly mope until you kiss his ego better. anything can solve this man's problems if you silence him with a kiss.

+ sakamoto's like ". . . please tell me you did not get with nagumo," and nagumo finds this hilarious. he's like, "i have an idea! let's go on double dates with you, me, aoi and (name)!" to which sakamoto rejects. he doesn't mind the idea of you being friends with his wife, of course, but he doesn't want to take nagumo anywhere.

+ sometimes, he'd disguise himself as you and nonchalantly act as if he's doing chores in your house until you come back home. so when he sees you, he points and goes, "an imposter!" and at this point, you play along, "there's my doppelganger. can you give me back my boyfriend, please." and as soon as you say that, he transforms back and grabs you.

+ life with this mf is a wild ride, but honestly, you signed up for it, so good luck. once his eyes are set on someone, he goes all in and is not about to give it up. especially when he knows how serious you are about him and he is for you. a match made in heaven!

[mydear-corinthian]

Protection || Thomas Shelby x reader

Synopsis: You were protecting your son, Charlie when Billy Kimber's men ambushed your shared home. Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort, reader gets injured, gun violence, mentions of blood, swearing, Grace's being mentioned once - s2 spoiler Notes: Not proofread, grammatical errors, GIF is mine Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.

As another regular evening took place, a sense of peace descended over Thomas Shelby and his wife's shared home. While Tommy was busy with his business and papers, you found yourself wandering the enormous area of the estate with your young son, Charlie.

Marriage with Tommy wasn't for the faint of heart. You were highly aware of the ongoing danger that accompanied his lifestyle, the circulating threats and enemies that followed your husband's every step. Despite the obvious risks your love for him remained strong. You treasured him not as an infamous gangster, but as the man who made you feel valued, protected, and appreciated.

There was nothing but silence in the huge home; you could hear the clock ticking and the curtains flapping as the breeze shook the cloth. It was a Saturday night, so the maids weren't working, leaving you and Charlie alone. Charlie's eyelids were going drowsy as you cuddled him, softly caressing his back and humming his favorite lullaby. Looking at the clock, you realized how late it was, and Tommy hadn't returned home yet.

You heard the main entrance door open with a loud bang. Although it seemed strange, you assumed Tommy was just returning from a stressful day at work. Charlie woke up from his sleep and let out a loud cry when you heard gunfires as you were ready to leave your shared room. You were so terrified that you thought your legs were paralyzed. Without wasting any time, you grabbed Charlie and put his little body against your shoulder, giving him a tight hug.

With Charlie in one hand, you dashed to the door, locked it almost instantly, and took out the Enfield No. 2 six-bullet handgun that your husband had given you as a birthday present from the nightstand's drawer. You grab the gun and duck into the shared bedroom's bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

The room was filled with the sound of the little Shelby's piercing cries, which seemed to come from every corner. You tried so hard to soothe him, cooing softly, but all it did was make his cries louder and more echoing through the walls. As you tried to calm him, your hands trembled with fear and your fingers stuttering, a sign of your growing terror running down your face. You felt powerless in the face of Charlie's constant tears, and you started to search for a way out of the mess.

You started nervously to pray while holding a child in your arms. Tears were beginning to fall from your eyes and the prayers were mumbling on your lips.

Charlie and you were found by whoever was in your shared room as you heard the door slam. Breathless, you lowered your son onto the empty, shallow bath tub behind you and spoke to him to stop crying. and that you will return quickly. When the toilet door opened, two armed men in a hideous black suit and a top hat appeared; they were Billy Kimber workers.

One of the armed men circled around you and exclaimed, "Aye look, it's Mrs. Shelby," as you aimed your handgun at him, your hands shaking with terror. You've never been skilled with a gun. Tommy giving you a gun like that surprised you. He would not stop stating, "You'll use that in the future."

and perhaps the future was today.

"Suprised a Shelby doesn't know how to use a gun. How about we gift Thomas Shelby the lifeless body of his dear wife?" the man laughed. You raised the gun without thinking, your hand steady from the rush of adrenaline pumping through you, and took aim at the man's skull. The bullet cracked sharply and shot out of the barrel, piercing the air and hitting its target with terrifying accuracy. With a bleak proof to your determination, fortune smiled on you as the bullet hit accurate, plunging into the man's forehead with fatal force and instantly taking his life.

Attempting to fire another shot to the other man, you missed.

Suddenly, you heard a bang go off but paid no mind. Attempting to shoot again, you finally succeded; three bullets all over the now lifeless man's torso. The sight of the lifeless bodies made you feel sick but you chose to ignore it as you dropped your used gun to go and grab Charlie and ask for help. You grabbed your son right away, immediately hugging him and kissed his little forehead.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice calling out your name; Tommy.

His voice reaching out for you made you sigh with relief. Your husband ran toward you as your legs found their way to the stairs to return to him. You embraced him, resting your head on his chest and taking in his manly scent as you exhaled. "Oh god, Tommy.."

She took Charlie out of your arms and gave you a minute to rest in Tommy's calming presence in Polly's comforting presence. Tommy's hand gently cradled the back of your head as you leaned into him, seeking solace from the chaos of the moment in his gentle, comforting touch. His voice, a comforting whisper that passed through the chaos, whispered, "You're safe now, love."

He felt a warm wetness on his dark blue vest, making him break the hug to see what it was.

Tommy's eyes widened in fear at what he saw, and he let out a gasp. Once an image of elegance, your immaculate white evening gown now had a scarlet stain of blood creeping across it, the color standing out against the fabric. The room seemed to spin in a dizzying twister, threatening to paralyze you as the color faded from your face, your face was pale and your vision seemed to spin like a twister.

"Did you get shot?" he worriedly asked. Confused by his question, you looked down at your stomach, seeing the color red slowly colonizing your white evening gown.

"I - I um.. Tommy, I feel dizzy.." your fragile legs gave up, his strong arms catched you almost immediately.

Your eyes were starting to drop, your body was slowly getting cold, your muscles giving up.

"T - Tommy, why is so cold..?"

Fuck, he mentally cursed at the sight that met his eyes. It was as if God had judged him once more. Grace - this seemed so familiar. His fingers were shaking with fear and worry, his eyes were beginning to water, and his heart had stopped.

"We need a medic!" Polly shouted.

He tries to calm himself down by caressing the strands of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. "Please, stay." he begged.

His frustration was boiling over and his impatience was burning in the way he spoke. He gave orders for the medics with a strong edge to his voice, desperation and anger infusing each word as he demanded their immediate presence.

"Tommy.." you softly called his name before darkness took you.

Your stomach hurt and your brain throbbed when you woke up. Beside you, you noticed your husband uncomfortably sleeping on the wooden chair. You noticed that the ash tray on the table stand next to you was filled with used cigarettes, indicating that you had been out for a while. You were trying to sit up and Tommy woke up to the sound of your pained moans. His bright blue eyes met yours. Eyebags developed under his eyes as a result of struggling to sleep due to the chance that you wouldn't wake up anymore.

"Easy, love." he said.

In an attempt to prevent him from harming you, he cradled your back so you could lie down peacefully once more—as though you were a piece of glass that would shatter the moment it was touched.

He deeply blames himself for what happened to you. If only he was there that night. If only he went home early, you and Charlie wouldn't be in this situation.

"Where's Charlie?" you asked right away, your eyes looking everywhere in the room to see if your child was there or not.

"He's with Aunt Pol, (y/n). He's safe with her, don't worry."

With both of his hands clasped around yours, he sobbed out loud in front of you, unable to stop himself from crying. He felt responsible, guilty, and like a terrible partner for failing to give you protection.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." he cried as he apologized, kissing your hands.

You smiled softly as you placed your right hand on his face for him to look at you.

"It's not your fault, Tommy. The good thing is that me and Charlie are safe." reassuring, you gave him a weak smile.

"I thought I lost you." he exhaled in exhaustion, standing up as he kissed your head.

"I would never leave you, Tommy."

"Please don't."

[dirtysvthoughts]

mafia boss! wonwoo x reader headcanons

tags/warnings: smut, female! reader, reader is shorter than wonwoo, some pwp, some worldbuilding before the smut (you know how i do), pet names (pretty girl, little one, etc.), mentions of love languages, mentions of lingerie, fingering, lots of kissing and making out, mentions of a dinner, apartment sex, kitchen sex into bedroom sex, make sure they wrap it up before you unwrap it! i’m actually highly upset i can’t have wonwoo blow my back out on a regular

author’s note: first of all, HEY BESTIES! i know i’ve been kinda silent, but i’m slowly getting back my will and motivation to write (do NOT take 3 classes during the summer). i’ve been dying to get my thoughts out on this after the lalali mv, and who knows - this may end up as a full length fic sometime soon 👀 let’s get into it!

———

-mafia boss! wonwoo whose gang started off small, and now he runs one of the largest mafia organizations in the country. he’s cunning, smart, sly, intimidating, even ruthless. those under him respect and admire him, from his vice-leader to the newer members. he strikes fear into several and he is not to be taken lightly or crossed. several groups have been eliminated with just a few words from his lips (like he said, he’s a monster).

-then enter you, his lover, whose entire lifestyle is the opposite of the one he leads. you’re just a simple office worker, but you’re fortunate enough to have some extra pleasures, like a lavish apartment and a decent social life. wonwoo has had his share of women and previous relationships, but you were different. you keep him level headed and grounded. your calm demeanor and intelligence are so very, very attractive to him. and of course, your looks and natural beauty were stunning. he’s protective of you and would prefer you rather not get involved in any of his business endeavors.

-even though he insists on not bringing you into his craziness, he wants to help you out and provide for you as much as he can. his acts of service have ranged from his captains running errands for you to even giving you large monetary gifts every few months.

smut under the cut!! minors DO NOT INTERACT FROM HERE!

-good god, sex with mafia boss! wonwoo would go two ways: rough sex with you screaming and begging for mercy or soft sex with you whimpering and moaning his name, telling you to hold your cum in until he says you can release it. either way, his dominance will be asserted.

-has multiple pet names for you, but absolutely loves calling you: “little one,” “princess,” “my darling,” and “pretty girl.”

-mafia boss! wonwoo has an OBSESSION with you in lingerie. he. can’t. get. enough. he’s bought you multiple sets, and of course has his favorites. absolutely loves it when you dress up for him, he will roam his calloused hands up and down your body, kissing your stomach as he toys with the hem of your panties.

-one of your sexual encounters was in his gang’s warehouse (before the group’s weekly meeting, so it was empty). he looked so dashing in his green gucci suit, hair pulled back into a bun - the wetness gushing in your panties making it clear you needed him. when he closes and locks the warehouse garage door, he crashes his lips onto yours while his hands grab your ass. he grunted something about missing you and how he needed to feel your tight cunt around him. at the moment, you’re unable to form words, but you feel the exact same way, all you could think about was him while you were working and the last time he fucked you silly. he walks you over to a table, lips still on yours and his hands now moving to take off your blouse. he tosses the white garment to the side, leaving you in your bra and work pants. once the back of your knees hit the edge of the table, he guides you to lay on top, clearing off everything in your way - objects loudly crashing to the floor. he caresses your face as his right hand works the clasps and the zipper on your pants, fingers slowly trailing inside your panties, and lightly touching your clit from the outside. you can help but bite your lip and moan his name, wonwoo smirking in response and he rubs the pad of his fingers around your part. “think you can finish before junghoon (his vice leader) gets here, little one?”

-another wonderful sexual encounter brought out his soft dom side. he wanted to spend some time with you, so you two set a date where he can come over to your place, have some food, and enjoy your company. on the day of, he rings the doorbell to your apartment, bringing with him a bottle of champagne, dressed in a white mock turtleneck with black pants. when you open the door, a smile appears on his face and you take his hand, leading him through the door. you just put him at ease, and he feels so comfortable around you. “i missed you my darling,” he whispers as he kisses your hand, a blush creeping on your cheeks.

-some time passes after dinner, and the two of you are talking in the kitchen with champagne still in your glasses. as you sit on the counter, wonwoo finishes washing the dishes, thanking you for the meal. you shrug and say it was nothing and you didn’t mind, but wonwoo insists that it was something more. “i know i don’t say this a lot, but i want to let you know that i do love you, and you mean a lot to me.” your heart melts at his words and you give wonwoo a hug as he comes back to your side. “i love you too, baby,” you whisper. a few moments later, you delicately press your lips on his, and he seals the deal. your tongues dance together as you continue to kiss, this time your hands are the first to move and they tug at the hem of his turtleneck, pulling it up to reveal some of his abs. he helps you out as his shirt goes higher, and it’s quickly tossed to the other side of the room. he returns the favor by taking off your crop top, revealing the bra that beautifully accentuates your breasts. he licks his lips as he kisses your neck, his hands moving slowly up your thighs. “w-wonwoo,” you whine, “i need you!” “i know, darling, i know,” he responds. “you’ll have everything you want and more tonight.” he carries you bridal style to your bedroom, lips still locked together as gently tosses you onto the bed.

-you’re pretty sure by now your neighbors can hear you moan for your partner, but you could care less right now - wonwoo was thrusting into so deliciously that you body pinged with each movement. he knew your body and he knew how to please you, and tonight he wanted to make sure just how much you meant to him. filthy phrases leave his mouth, calling you his baby girl, how perfect your pussy was for him, and all he wanted was to see your legs covered in his juices. you grasp onto your hotel-like white sheets, your face contorting as his deep voice and dick send you over the edge when he hits your spot and releases his load in you. you breathe heavily as you come too, saying his name over and over as if it was the only thing you knew.

“i love you little one,” he kisses your cheek as he pulls out, embracing you as you cuddle up to his side.

“mmm, i love you too.”

[heliosundercover]

Special customer

Redhood

Special customer Redhood who gains the title by beating up some shady guys attempting to break into your bakery and apartment above it, and after the job was done, you begged him to stay around until you got a new security system installed. But even with it installed, he seems to be in the area. One night, you offered him a coffee, and now every night on patrol, he comes for his coffee.

 

Special customer Redhood, got a pretty sweet drink, not something a vigilante would drink. It was a black coffee with 5 pumps of caramel and a dash of cinnamon sugar. Something about the unlikely order was cute in a way.

 

Special customer Redhood, doesn't know that you have an alarm set, so you can wake up late enough to catch him and give him his coffee. One day he catches you, though. You come downstairs to check to see if he was there yet, and he sees you in pajamas, your hair up so you can sleep comfortably, 

 "Wait, were you sleeping?" He looks you up and down. 

"Nice pajamas" 

Only then does he look up the hours of the bakery, seeing that it closes at 10 p.m., whereas he's coming in between 1 a.m. and 3 a.m. That was when he first realized how considerate you were.

 

Special customer Redhood finally asks you about your day after two weeks of him coming in for a cup of coffee and a weirdly comfortable silence while he drinks and unwinds from his long patrol.

"How was your day... You look exhausted." He took a long pause, realizing he didn't know your name, but to his surprise, you laughed, and after that one small gesture, he knew he wanted to hear it again. 

You and him talked for a few hours until his headset pinged that there was something suspicious going on in the area he was supposed to be patrolling, but here he was flirting with a baker.

He never got your name.

 

 

Special customer Redhood, gets the same thing every time, so eventually you give his order a special name. His own secret menu item. special customer, Redhood, who asks

"Did you name this drink after me?" When you say 

"One red cup coming up." The name was Corny, and it slipped up before you could stop yourself, and now you cringed as you could hear the smirk in his heavily distorted voice. His question was immediately met with denial. 

 

Special customer Redhood enjoyed talking with you and learning about you. He also liked how you weren't pushy, not asking anything that could put his identity at risk. Here's a list of things he told you.

He liked classic literature.

He had never tried matcha before you made him try your new matcha white chocolate cookies. 

He loved animals and always wanted a big dog.

His favorite color was green, which was surprising considering his choice of name.

He never went to college. 

 

New customer Jason Todd, who made you raise an eyebrow when he ordered a "red cup," had a barely noticeable smirk like he was thinking of an inside joke.  Your eyebrow raised a bit more when a younger-looking guy asked

"Jason, why this bakery? It's not even a real coffee shop; they just happen to sell three types of coffee and a special lemonade. And its super put of the way."

His words were met with a flick to the back of his head by Jason.

"Because I like it here."

 

New-ish customer Jason, who came in mornings ordering the same thing every couple of days every so often, had a person or two with him. But while Jason wasn't consistent, but you like him any.

 

Special customer Redhood, who had been planning on asking you out as Jason for months. It was now winter, and the snow on the ground made him think of you. He knew winter was your favorite season, and it was the first snow of the season today. He knew it had to be today. 

 

Innocent bystanders Dick, Damian, and Tim watched their brother go mad over a baker. A mix of happiness and impending doom lingered amongst the group they had started taking bets on when he would finally ask her out a while ago. And so far, Alfred is the closest to winning. 

 

Regular customer Jason Todd, who had run into the bakery with flowers in hand right before closing, Slightly out of breath, he asked 

"Will you go out to dinner with me? Saturday night at 8 p.m.?"

"Sure." You smile happily, accepting his offer  and you watch as his eyes light up and he hands you the bouquet of flowers. 

 

Boyfriend Jason Todd, who is surprised when you, after a year of dating, reveal that you've been suspicious since day one, All because of a stupid drink with a corny name. 

 

Boyfriend Jason Todd, who can't help but tease you,.

 "So it was named after me?"

 

Boyfriend and soon-to-be fiancée Jason Todd, who proposes to you on the roof of your apartment and bakery the whole roof was decked out with a vine covered arch and fairy lights. 

"So, will you marry me?"

 

He gets on one knee, opening a gorgeous engagement ring with your favorite precious stone inside. It was your dream ring, and he was your dream guy, and of course you said yes.

 

Fiancée Jason Todd, who pulls you into a passionate kiss when he hears the words leave your lips, couldn't be more excited to spend the rest of his life with you.

[sarah-the-bird-nerd]

You Can't Park There

Note: This was suggested in The Pitt Crew discord server and my brain just ran with it

Warnings: Fluff, Fem!Reader, amputee Jack, established relationship, People being assholes in public,no beta.

Summary: Jack has a rough night, which quickly becomes a rough day, only getting worse when someone decides that he's not disabled enough.

More often than not, you forgot that technically, Jack was disabled. He didn't like the label, neither did you, and it wasn't often that his leg was a hindrance. Every once in a while though, Jack would have an awful day, and it usually followed a bad shift, one where he moved non-stop and his prosthetic irritated his stump to the point that when he got home the prosthetic would come right off and he would resort to using his crutches around the house to give his leg a rest. You could tell with one look at him what kind of day he was having, and this morning was no different. It was Saturday, and Jack was just coming off shift with four glorious days off to look forward to. As you did every morning, weekend or not, you got up early to make sure that you had breakfast ready for Jack. It was something that you did to maximize your time with him. You had a regular 9 to 5 office job, and the short window in the morning when he got home and when he got up was precious to both of you.

You were in the kitchen, preparing a steak and egg breakfast, when you heard his truck coming down the long driveway. You had timed breakfast perfectly, moving the food to two plates, a coffee ready for you and for him a beer. Someone would think beer at 7:30 in the morning was wrong, but when you work nights, 7:30 am is your nighttime, and you were more than happy to provide the beer for your husband. You set everything on the table. frowning a bit, as Jack was slow to get out of the truck. Peaking out the kitchen window, you could see him slowly moving, the seatbelt coming off and the driver's side door opening. You couldn't hear the groan he let out, but you know he did, and when he moved around the truck to grab his go bag, you could see the pain in his face, his gait leaning heavily on his left side to take pressure off of his right. You cursed before making a quick dash up the stairs, grabbing his crutches from the bedroom and running back down. You managed to beat him to the porch.

You rested the crutches against the porch swing before meeting him at the bottom of the stairs. He stopped in front of you with a tired sigh. "Bad night?" You didn't need to ask, you just knew, but you always asked, let him vocalize it. He looked down at you with a weary stare before nodding. "Very. I don't think I sat more than 5 minutes all night." You cringed, knowing that despite the facade he tried to have, he often needed to find a moment to take the weight off of his prosthetic for at least 10 minutes every couple of hours. You sighed, knowing better than to lecture him; he was stubborn, and that was just one of the things you loved about him. You moved to his right side, wrapping an arm around his waist for support and started to help him up the stairs.

"Come on, we just have to get you to the swing, we can get that leg off, and you can get some rest. Breakfast is on the table, and once you're done, you're going right to the shower and bed, no arguments." You were firm, knowing that he would argue if you weren't. He was always trying to be the tough one, and over time, you've learned to force him to let you be the tough one for him. Once you got him on the swing, you knelt in front of him. Jack settled back into the swing, stretching his bad leg out for you. Carefully, you removed his prosthetic, setting it to the side and cringing at how irritated it looked. You sighed, patting the side of his leg. "I'll be right back, don't move!" Jack didn't say a word as you stood, dashing upstairs to the master bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, soaking it in cold water before running back downstairs with it. Kneeling back in front of him, you wiped down the area, hoping the cool water would help calm the irritation. Jack hissed, and you weren't sure if it was from pain or the cold. You looked up at him carefully, watching him tip his head back, his eyes closing. You took that as a good sign, gently massaging the area before patting him on the knee.

"You good?" Jack's eyes opened, and he nodded wearily. "Yeah, I'm good." You stood, reaching for his crutches. "Here, I know you hate them, but use them at least until you go to bed, please, give your leg some rest." You picked up his prosthetic, walking away with it so he couldn't put it back on and had to use the crutches. You smirked a bit as you heard him behind you. "Some would consider this abuse!" You turned a bit, watching him move effortlessly on the crutches. "Mhm...I left you the crutches, the courts would disagree" You watched him move to the kitchen before you took the prosthetic upstairs, leaving it next to his side of the bed, knowing it would go back on as soon as he woke up. When you returned to the kitchen, you found him digging into breakfast, beer in hand.

You grabbed your plate and went to move past him to your seat, yelping a bit as his thick arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap. "Pretty girls are supposed to sit in my lap." You arched an eyebrow. "Got many girls sitting in your lap then, Dr. Abbot?" He grinned at you, cupping the back of your head and pulling you in for a soft kiss. There was no rushing, it was short, sweet and chaste, him tasting of beer, you of coffee. After pulling away, he rested his forehead against yours. "Only you. Only ever you." You hummed softly. "Better not be, I will take your legs and your crutches and then kick your ass." He chuckled. "See? Abuse!" You smacked his shoulder lightly before leaning against him and slowly eating your breakfast with him, sinking into comfortable silence. Once finished, Jack went up to have a shower while you cleaned up the kitchen, waiting until the shower switched off to start the dishwasher.

You slowly made your way upstairs, arriving in the bedroom just as Jack was crawling into bed, the blackout curtains pulled shut, the police scanner running for some white noise. You leaned over him, giving him a quick kiss. "Did you still want to go shopping with me, or did you want me to just go while you sleep?" Jack shook his head. "Don't you dare go without me. Just get me up around 1 and we'll go." He said as he yawned. "Need to transition to day mode anyway with these four days off." You nodded, leaning to kiss him again before leaving the room and closing the door so he could sink into sleep...or you hoped he did anyway, knowing how awful his sleep was.

—

While Jack slept, you made a shopping list, both for groceries and other little things that you needed, like some new plants, curtains, and whatever else you could think of, you always tried to save all of the shopping for when you both could go, using it to spend time together, once your list was put together you moved about the house, tidying up before curling up on the sofa with a book, getting lost in the fantasy world, only to be jolted out of it aggressively by the alarm that you had set on your phone, ensuring that you would wake Jack up on time. You stretched before placing you bookmark and moving to the kitchen, using your Keurig to make sure that Jack had a coffee waiting when you woke him. Slowly, you made your way up the stairs, his coffee ready on the counter for him once he was mobile. Creeping into the bedroom, you don't know why you're startled when you find him staring directly at you; he's a light sleeper, a consequence of his army days.

"Did you sleep at all?" You asked, leaning over him before shrieking as one of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you into the bed with him as he rolls you and nuzzles his face into your neck, practically purring. "Got enough, you know me." You did know him, and no matter how exhausted he was, he'd say he needed next to no sleep. You hummed as he kissed his way down your neck before sinking his teeth into your collarbone. You lay there with him, fingers carding through his hair and simply relaxed into him as his hands massaged your hips. "How's your leg feel?" He sighed, his hands tightening on your hips. "Better, not 100% but tolerable." You hummed, trying to gauge just how bad it was because he would always downplay it. He rolls you again so that he's on his back, arms wrapped tightly around you. "Suppose I should get up and dressed so we can get the shopping done?"

—

45 minutes later, you found yourself in Jack's truck, on your way to Costco, his hand in yours and soft rock playing on the radio. The drive was quiet, both of you just enjoying being together for the drive. Jack had put his prosthetic back on before you left, too stubborn to rely on his crutches outside of the home if he could help it. He swore it was fine, but when he pulled into the parking lot and chose one of the handicap spots, you raised an eyebrow. Despite having a disabled veteran license plate, even on his worst days, he tried to avoid parking in these spots; in fact, you could count on one hand the number of times that you had seen him park in one of the handicap spots. He sat still for a moment, sighing before turning to look at you. "Not a word" You shook your head, having no intention to say anything.

You got out of the truck, sunglasses on, purse slung over your shoulder and waited for Jack to come around to your side of the truck, reaching for your hand as he locked the truck and turned towards the store, yelling from about 10 feet behind you stopped you both.

"Hey! Hey! You can't park there!" For a few seconds, you had no idea that he was talking to Jack. People yelling in Pittsburgh wasn't uncommon. You both kept walking until the man yelled again.

"You in the fucking truck! I'm talking to you! You can't park there you piece of shit." You felt Jack stiffen, his hand squeezing yours and a tired sigh leaving him before he turned. You had heard of people doing things like this, seen videos on Youtube, but you never thought that you would see it in person, let alone it be happening to your husband. Jack was calm as he spoke to the man. "Can I help you, sir?"

The man looked him up and down. "You. Can't. Park. There." He said, emphasizing each word. Jack scoffed. "Yeah, you said that. Wanna elaborate?" The man bristled at him. "You're clearly not handicapped, that's a handicap spot." You pulled your sunglasses up, placing them on the top of your head. "His license plate says otherwise. Why don't you mind your business?" The man rolled his eyes at you. "People lie. You can fake a license plate." Your eyes narrowed and you heard Jack sigh beside you again. "Look man, I just did a 12-hour shift in the ER, I don't have the energy for you. How about you just leave us alone?"

"How about you don't take a space someone actually needs?" You had enough, leaning down to pull up Jack's pant leg as Jack looked down at you as if to say 'What the fuck are you doing?' You showed the man just enough to make his eyes go wide. "I assure you, sir, that my husband served this country and has more than earned the right to park in that spot. Now, is this disabled enough for you, or do I need to take his prosthetic off and beat you with it for you to get a clue?"

The man looked startled, apologising sheepishly and thanking Jack for his service before rushing away. Jack could only stare at you as you turned back to him. "What? He had no right! He doesn't know what goes on in your life, on anyone else's!" Jack just shook his head, reaching out to pull your sunglasses down over your eyes and leaned down to kiss you softly.

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."