#I suggested my son write this and he said no you do it

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 39/?

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What's this, two chapters in one day? Your comments gave me inspiration to write faster, so here's a second chapter as thanks

Jason snorted at the corny flyer he had just put up on the coffee shop’s bulletin board. What was even his afterlife?

Jason sighed and put down the few flyers he had left.

After his heart-to-heart with Jazz, Jason decided to try to fill his days (and lack of a complete family) with other hobbies.

Roy suggested that he pick up new hobbies.

“Maybe archery, Jaybird. I could teach you!”

Jason had scrunched his nose at that. He respected Roy, he did, but guns and bazookas were more Jason’s style.

(Not to mention, Bruce had ingrained Green Arrow disrespect deep in his bone.)

“Maybe start with something you already like. How about a book club?” Raven had suggested. “Find other like-minded people to discuss books with.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea,” Roy said as he ate some of the brownies Jason had baked. “Then you can leave me alone about how the gothic elements of Wuthering Heights contribute to the selfish love between Heathcliff and Catherine and how Brontë showed their twisted love through the environment.”

“That’s because she did, you uncultured swine.”

Roy had smiled, a piece of brownie stuck between his teeth.

So here Jason was, putting up flyers for a book club. He had asked Ghost Writer if he could host it in his bookstore.

“Of course you can, Jay! I would be delighted. Oh, that means I have to set up a little area so that members have a place to sit. Maybe I can order some refreshments. Oh, do you know which book you want to start with? I can place the order.”

Ghost Writer’s words became muffled as he went deeper into the store.

Jason had designed the flyer and decided to put up a few in different shops and restaurants after getting permission from the owners. He doubted many people would show up, but at least one other person who had Jason’s love of literature would be nice.

Jason looked at the time and decided he had enough time to pick up Danny and relax at the coffee shop. He ordered a coffee and a chocolate croissant and sat down where he could watch the bulletin board. He saw a few people reading the flyer. Most of them were older or middle-aged women, with one or two guys thrown into the mix.

After keeping an eye out for a while, Jason felt pleased as punch that he would have a few people at his new book club come Tuesday. He couldn’t wait.

Soon after he left, a certain blond showed up and read the flyer. She took a picture of it, ordered her latte, and left.

____

Raven felt him before she saw him.

“Batman, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

She was alone in a rarely empty Titan Tower. Everyone else was either out or staying somewhere else.

“You know where Jason is,” he stated.

“Maybe. Why do you need to know?”

Raven turned and stared at white-out eyes glaring back at her. She could see how Batman could be terrifying, but she had fought against her father, Trigon. Batman was just a man to her. A man who was in emotional pain. She hardened her heart. She knew what Jason was also feeling, and most of the emotional hurt was caused by the man before her.

“I know Roy Harper is in contact with Jason. However, neither Dick nor I can find how he can travel to wherever Jason is without any vehicle. I did find something interesting, though.”

“Please, do share, Batman.”

“Whenever he goes, there is a surge of your signature power, and most of the time, you are also gone. I can’t seem to trace where your power signature ends up, and I only find out when you’re back because there’s a surge here on the West Coast. So, don’t try to deny you know where my son is.”

“Truly, you are a great detective. I don’t deny it; I know where Jason is. That doesn’t mean you’ll get his address from me.”

Batman glared at her.

“I wasn’t here to ask where he is,” he said through gritted teeth. Raven raised an eyebrow as she sensed the truth of Batman’s statement.

“Then why are you here, Bruce Wayne?”

Batman’s glare deepened, and he scowled when he heard his civilian name. Then, with some hesitation, he took off his cowl. Before Raven was a strong and formidable man, but one with deep bruises in his eyes from lack of sleep. One who’s shoulders curved under an invisible weight.

Bruce took out a recorder that was still in its original packaging.

“I know you can sense when someone is lying to you. There are no trackers, tracers, or anything else in this recorder that can lead me to Jason. I want to send my son a message; I want to apologize.”

Raven raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

“You expect me to believe that you gave up trying to hunt Jason down like a rabid animal?”

Bruce flinched at Raven’s choice of words. Good, he deserved it.

“You tell me. Am I lying to you?”

“There are ways to trick my senses. I do not doubt that the man with a plan for everything doesn’t know how to circumvent my powers.”

Bruce let out a weary sigh.

“The man who has raised me, who is like a father to me, has chewed me out a few times about Jason. I am not an easy man to get along with. I’m stubborn, and I have control issues; I know that, but I love all of my children. However, I tend to do more damage than good when I think I know what’s best for them. That can lead to fights—to estrangement. I’m sure you remember Dick when he was younger.”

Raven nodded. Dick had been a ball of fury and resentment.

“I want to tell Jason that I see the error I have made. I shouldn’t have pushed him out of the family. That was my fault. However, I also want to let him know even if he doesn’t want to speak to me now or ever, I will always be here, but I will respect his boundaries.”

Raven stared at Bruce. She felt no lies. This could be good for both Bruce and Jason. She sighed in resignation.

“Let’s get comfortable, shall we? I don’t promise Jason will hear what you have to say, but I can give him the recording.”

She held out her hand, and Bruce Wayne gave her the recorder. They sat down opposite each other. Raven opened the recorder.

“Let’s begin,” and she pressed play.

Bruce apologizing? What's the world coming to?

Anyway, I have a question for you guys. Do you want Avril and Jason to become kinda friends with a friendly rivalry and let them bond over books, or would you rather they stay enemies? Let me know in the comments. I could write it either way.

DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NEVER READ WUTHERING HEIGHTS, SO IF THAT PART DOESN'T MAKE SENSE, LET ME KNOW. I JUST GOT THAT OFF THE INTERNET!

Thanks for sticking by me so long!

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[jomiddlemarch]

When two great forces oppose each other

“So, what is it you do here?” Din asked the man who identified himself as Ken. He was blond and fit, with a gaze that scanned, seeking only one goal, admitting nothing else, requiring nothing else.

“Beach. You?”

The question in response was most unexpected based on Din’s experience in this world. He’d spoken with several men, all carrying the same name as if it were a title, Mandalorian instead of Din. They were polite but not welcoming to someone who refused to show his face, suspecting he might actually be the object of their collective affection concealed within. 

“Weapons.”

This drabble was inspired/prompted by my 18 yo son who proposed the exchange between Ken and Mando, including its brevity.

[losersiren]

𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭

"𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒽, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒.” CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o

The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesome– most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.

You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinster…and ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice… regrettably it may be the easier option. 

“Pray tell why you’re glued to this corner as if you’re some wallflower,” A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.

The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.

What a bastard

“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.

”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”

His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.

He should’ve fought harder for you.

People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.

 He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.” More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-” 

“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.

The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.

The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.

“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.

You’re so close

“I forgive you…I forgive you…”

“I forgive you, Ambrose…”

Oh…

His name on your tongue….

His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.

“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”

.." Or shall I beg more?"

End Notes: Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it. Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you." Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched." Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)

[dreamingonfilm]

✧˖*°࿐ Love Letters | d.m

Draco Malfoy x f!reader, fluff

Summary: In which Draco tries to find the girl who sends him love letters, unaware to the fact that it’s you.

W/C: 1.5k

Draco’s fingers traced over the writing on the pink envelope once again. His mind was not able to rest as he tried to piece together who left the note on his bedside in the middle of the night. Delicately opening it once more, he reread the words inside;

Draco, 

I hope you can learn to see yourself the way that I see you, with love and acceptance. You are what makes everyday worth it. Constellations are named after you, and each day I can’t help but to be thankful for the sun breathing on you once more. You are my light.

He carefully closed the envelope and placed it inside his bag. ‘They like me.’ the boy thought to himself, ‘someone actually likes me.’ 

It’s not that the boy was a stranger when it comes to love, but never once has he been perceived as something more than what he truly is. He’s always been Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy throne, son of Lucius, and most importantly a Slytherin. For this reason, he constantly rejected any advances that came from the female students around him. While his rejections came off as rude and cold-hearted, the other students failed to see that Draco, just like everyone else around him, was human too. He was scared of being hurt by the one feeling that he craved the most. 

The walk to class was almost unbearable, he couldn’t stop thinking about the letter. He wanted to know the poet behind those beautiful words, the ones that kept repeating over and over in his head as he tried stirring potions or taking notes. You are what makes everyday worth it. He became hyper aware of his surroundings, assuming that he would know when he sees her, but he failed to realize that she was not someone that could be so easily spotted. She came exactly when you needed her to, not by desire alone.

—-

“Draco,” his friend Blaise called to him, “focus.”

“Oh, right.” Draco replied, trying to get his thoughts together as he walked back to his seat. It was the middle of the school week and his mind was only getting more crowded with the thoughts of her. As he sat back down, his friends swarmed him with questions as to what it was that he smelled in his amortentia, assuming that this would be the first step to finding her.

“I can’t describe it.” He sighed, running a hand through his platinum hair in defeat. “She has me going crazy and I don’t even know her.” 

“Well,” Pansy spoke up, “I suggest maybe moving on? I mean, if she wants to be anonymous it may be for a reason. Plus, you have hundreds of other girls that would kill to be with you, Draco. Maybe try your luck somewhere else.” She flashed him a sincere smile before going in to hold his hand, but her efforts were cut short as the boy suddenly stood up. 

“I don’t want to be with anyone unless it’s her.” He sneered, shaking his head as he turned around and started heading straight to the door. He said a hushed goodbye to his friends before exiting into the crowded hall.

Why couldn’t his friends see that he didn’t want anyone else? He didn’t care about her wealth, status, or looks, all that he wanted was someone that could love him in full. Love him in a way that can’t be tamed, a love that lives long after they do. This was something that he knew he wasn’t going to find any time soon, for as long as he was at Hogwarts he could only be Draco Malfoy.

His hopes were on her.

He walked through the hall, pushing through students that stood in his way as he asserted dominance with a ray of confidence and high ego. Students glared at him but none had the guts to say anything, this fear that Draco instilled was not one that was going to go away any time soon. It was one that he brought upon himself and now had to live with. Somewhere in between his daydreams and the crowded corridor, he felt someone bump into him. Their shoulders collided as his books fell to the floor. The stranger mumbled a quick apology before running off.

In the midst of his anger, he froze. He smelt it. That same scent that clouded him only a few minutes before. There it was, it was her, but just as quickly as he smelled it, she was gone. Only seeing her hair as she turned at the corner of the hallway. 

He quickly got up and chased after her, pushing and shoving anyone that got in his way. This was his chance, he was finally going to meet the girl that’s been making him mad, the one that he’s been dreaming of. His heart was pounding as he ran faster and faster down the hall, students staring at him in confusion as he was passing them by, quills and journals flying out of his bag –  but he didn't care, he couldn’t let her get away.

Once he turned the corner, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sensation of defeat. His heart crushed as he stared into the empty hallway.

—- 

Two weeks have passed since the day that Draco and her collided. He sat in his bed, holding a brand new letter. The same shade of pink as the one before, with the handwriting that he’s fallen in love with. 

“Draco, 

I’m sorry for not writing to you. I’ve been thinking of you every day, and I just can’t bear to keep dreaming of you without letting you know that I’m sorry for bumping into you in the hallway. The truth is, I’m scared, Draco.

I’m scared you aren’t going to like me for who I am. I’m scared that writing to you was a mistake. I’m scared that the only way you will ever see me is through these letters. I see you every day, why can’t you see me? 

You’re always in my heart, shining above me every night, my constellation. If we remain strangers forever, just know that I’ve never come to love someone like how I love you.”

He was getting restless. Constant possibilities of who it could be running through him, he even considered the possibility that this could be a prank, but no amount of doubt could prevent him from finding her, his hope overpowered all the fear that he had.

Draco sat up once more and started getting ready for dinner. Brushing his hair and straightening out his tie, he needed to look presentable for the off chance that he could be meeting her today. 

He headed down into the Great Hall and that’s when he saw it. A pink envelope in the hands of a girl he’s never talked to, but not just any girl, it was you.

He shouted out into the void, but he wasn’t quick enough. “Hey wait!” he called out, as you quickly grabbed your things and ran off once more. He couldn’t see you like this, it wasn’t the right time. Your face flushed red as you ran, your breathing quickening as your legs started to grow tired, but you could not let him find you. 

Draco chased after you, he was only a few feet behind but with enough determination you knew you could lose him. As you sprinted through the maze of halls, you started to grow light headed, you knew that if you didn’t stop soon you would faint. 

But it’s not the right time 

You stopped in front of a random classroom, rushing to open the door before he could catch up to you, but it was too late. He crashed into you, both of you falling to the ground with a loud thump, his hands landing on either sides of you as you laid in between him.

He finally found you. 

“Who are you?” He asked, not wasting any more time to get to know the girl who stole his heart. You stared into his eyes, feeling a frog in your throat as you mustered up the courage to finally talk to him.

“M-my name is (Y/N).” You whispered, neither of you breaking eye contact. He smiled, grabbing hold of your hands as he went to pick you both up. You were both nervous, too scared of saying the wrong things, but wanting to say them all regardless.

“(Y/N),” he repeated, looking at you with a face full of love and adoration, “I’m Draco.” 

He brushed your hair with his fingers and went to pat the dust off your shoulders. You didn’t know what to say or do, but you didn’t have to.

This was the right time.

 “Come along then (Y/N),” Draco smiled, interlocking his hand in yours before leading you back down to the Great Hall, “we have a lot of catching up to do.”

[breadbrobin]

campfire games

luke castellan x reader - percy jackson and the olympians

[established relationship, fem!daughter of ares reader]

summary: bets are fun, until they aren’t. you’re fine though. luke knows you’re an absolute badass.

warning: pushy male behaviour, suggestive comments, swearing, bets, threats, assault (physical), sexual harassment.

word count: 1.6k

(help i’m writing too many of these but this is the only other good one also feel free to leave requests yall i’m on summer break i have so much time and need something to do 🤩🤩)

(also i am still in love with luke castellan thank you very much I CAN FIX HIM PLSSSS)

(also very sorry to anyone named andrew it was the first name i thought of)

——————————————————

there wasn’t much that your siblings in the ares cabin liked more than winning capture the flag, but watching you tear down another boys’ ego was definitely one of those few things.

campfires were great for many reasons. singing, marshmallows, games—and bets. when chiron and mr d. turned in for the night early, something that rarely happened, the bets would come out. guys would try and talk to you, your siblings would intercept them, find out what they wanted, then place bets among themselves and with other campers as to how long it would take you to tear them down a few notches, or, on occasion, tear them a new one.

clarisse patted your shoulder as two of your brothers talked to another camper. “incoming.”

“details?” you picked at the chipped red polish of your fingernails.

“son of apollo. been here for about two months. andrew. something about wanting to go on a date with you and thinking you’re prettier than the aphrodite girls.” she rolled her eyes. “he tried it on with me before and doesn’t like taking no for an answer, so break his spirit completely. or, you know, his bones.”

you saluted her teasingly. “yes, ma’am. you can count on me, sergeant.”

she patted your shoulder again with a joking grin. “good on you, private. godspeed.”

with that, she left you sitting alone.

well, not really alone.

luke castellan had somehow ended up as your bodyguard in all of these cases. probably something to do with the fact that you’d been dating in secret for the last three months. you weren’t a huge fan of keeping your relationship a secret, but when you’d told clarisse, she told you that her and your other siblings wanted to keep making easy money, and betting on me was the best way to do that. since everyone thought you and luke hated each other anyway, it was easy enough to keep it up, but as your mocking remarks turned to teasing, then to flirting, it was getting more and more difficult. and as he was getting more attractive each day, it was getting harder not to kiss him in front of everyone at camp.

you swivelled in your seat to look up at him. he was sitting three rows back, almost hidden in the darkness, a distinctly put out look on his face.

“you hear that?” you asked with raised eyebrows and a grin on your face. “he thinks i’m prettier than the aphrodite girls. when have you ever said that?”

“i told you you’re prettier than a model one time and you punched me,” he said dryly. “and then i said you look like a goddess while fighting and you punched me again.”

“in my defence, i did hate you at the time.” you shrugged. “got my back?”

“always.” he said seriously.

you grinned and winked at him as you turned around, waiting for the newest idiot to come annoy you.

luke had, once upon a time, been one of those idiots in your mind. he irritated you to no end. he was better than you at sword fighting, so you bested him at everything else. he was more popular than you, so you became one of the most well-liked people at camp. all of your attempts to break him down, however, only made him fall in love with you. now, there you were, wishing you could be sitting beside him instead of waiting for some loser to come annoy you to death.

“y/n, hey.” andrew said, sitting next to you, probably a little too close.

you looked over at him. “andrew, right?”

he nodded, his smile widening as you knew his name.

you sat up straighter and scrutinised him, looking him up and down. “yeah, you look like an andrew.”

you heard luke hide a laugh in his cup behind you.

andrew’s face fell a little, but he regained it quickly. “heard you were one of the best fighters in camp.”

“i am.”

“that’s pretty cool. i mean, i can help you become the best if you want.”

“no, i think i’m okay.”

“come on, i mean, everyone needs to improve. even the self-proclaimed best. bet i’m better at archery than you at least.”

you looked over at his smirk and had to stop yourself from smirking too. this would be too easy. “no. thanks, though. i’m good on my own. one of the best, remember.”

“you could be better. we should have a little challenge. a game.”

“i only play games with people i like.”

“you could like me.” he leaned a little closer. you leaned away slightly. “i bet i could make you like me.”

you had to stop yourself from laughing. “yeah, i don’t think so, buddy.”

‘buddy’ was usually all it took to break a man’s ego. you’d used it on luke many times during unusually flirtatious sparring, back when you still pretended to hate his guts. it didn’t work on him anymore, but it usually worked perfectly on everyone else.

andrew didn’t falter. “i bet i could. give me a chance. let me take on a date. show you a good time.”

“no, thanks,” you said calmly. your siblings were watching intently. clarisse looked ready to step in if you needed it. you wondered what he’d said or done to her to put her on edge. then you realised it wasn’t what he’d done to her. it was what he was about to do to you.

his hand was on your thigh, gripping onto the bare skin by the hem of your shorts.

his hand was on your thigh.

gross.

you looked up at him, eyes sharp. you could hear luke shifting slightly behind you. “what are you doing?” you voice was deathly calm.

“showing you that i can show you a good time, princess.” his voice oozed honey—sickly sweet and sticky, like a fly trap. good thing you hated honey.

“how about i show you how many bones there are in the hand? by breaking every single one.” your voice was equally as saccharine sweet, but your eyes were glaring daggers into his and your jaw was set tight.

he just shifted his hand higher. you tried to push him off but he was strong. annoyingly strong.

he tutted. “come on, sweetheart. you’re gonna make a scene.”

you finally managed to peel his hand off your skin. “i’ll make a scene, alright. get off me and leave me alone. and while you’re at it, leave my sister alone too.”

he raised his hands, a sickening, sleazy smirk on his face. “i was just being nice, princess. you and your sister need to relax. you especially. i can help you relax.”

“oh, i’d love that. you know how i relax?” you tilted your head mockingly, eyes hard. “i punch my enemies in the face.”

he laughed. “you’re cute. now, come on. it’s not like you’ve got anything going for yourself. i mean, you’re hot, sure, but no guys ever gonna look at you when they realise how much of a bitch you are. not like i will.”

you rolled your eyes and stood up. it was time to go and sit by luke. it grated at you, but if he wouldn’t listen to you, maybe he’d listen to another guy.

he didn’t let you leave. his hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back to him as he stood up too. you were chest to chest with him. he towered over you, at least six inches taller. you stepped back, but he pulled you in by your waist and laughed.

“look at how good we look together,” he smirked. “i could show you—“

you punched him in the stomach. he doubled over, finally letting you go, so you kneed his diaphragm. he gasped for air as you stepped back. your friend chris rodriguez whistled appreciatively.

“touch me, or anyone here, ever again and i won’t just hurt you.” you hissed at him. “i’ll beat your ass, then i’ll drag you past the boundary and leave you for the monsters. got it?”

he nodded, still hunched over.

“good boy,” you grit out.

“fucking bitch,” he grunted.

your eyes darkened, but you didn’t do anything. your siblings were right behind him, all ready to drag him away. “good luck walking tomorrow, andrew.”

“good luck finding a guy stupid enough to fuck you,” he scorned.

you laughed. “hey, luke?”

“yeah, babe?” he stepped down beside you, his hand settling on your hip and pulling you gently into his side. andrew faltered at the sight. he probably hadn’t even realised luke was up there.

“are you stupid enough to fuck me?” you asked with raised eyebrows.

he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “oh, i’m way past stupid.”

you didn’t care about any of your sibling’s bets anymore. you didn’t care that people thought you hated each other. you especially didn’t care that everyone was watching. you kissed him. and in front of the whole camp, he kissed you back.

your siblings groaned in disappointment, knowing their betting days were over, but you didn’t care. you smiled the stupidest smile ever as you pulled away, feeling like you’d just had your first kiss all over again.

“what?” he asked quietly.

“nothing.” you shook your head. “just glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”

after months of kissing behind buildings, pretending to fight in public and avoiding each other so people wouldn’t find out, it felt honestly freeing to kiss him in the open.

he kissed you again as your siblings dragged andrew away. “and all it took was an asshole.”

“thanks for not stepping in,” you said. “i had it handled.”

“oh, i know you did. i was more than happy to watch you destroy his ego.”

“good, because if you had stepped in—“

“i’d be going home in an ambulance?” he smiled.

“no, you’d be going home in a hearse.”

“ah, my bad.”

as the campfire kept burning, you sat down with luke. your legs were pressed against his and his arm was around your waist. there wasn’t much that you liked more than tearing boy’s egos down, but being with luke castellan was definitely one of those few things.

[yourmomxx]

i wanted to request something sweet with my man aaron hotchner. like r and him work at the bau but their relationship is a secret until r kiss him on accident because shes excited about something!!! i hope this make sense idk!

thanks bestie have a great week!

i’m loving me some babygirl aaron hotchner honestly, i hope you like how this turned out!!

The office lights were blinding.

Like clinically cold balls of headlights that were penetrating through your skull, buzzing at an abnormally high frequence consistently.

You groaned inwardly and pressed the balls of your hands deep into your eyesockets, anything to just make that stupid headache go away so you could continue filing your reports that laid unedited on your desk.

You tapped the head of your pen vigorously against the desk top to jog a flow of words for you to write down.

With your hand supporting your head, you didn't notice a figure approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

"Hey." The tone of Aaron Hotchner's voice was soft and warm, but you still couldn't help but jump at the unexpected presence so near next to you.

You sighed when you noticed it was him, and leaned your head on your hand again. "Hey."

Aaron threw a look on you, then your files, and then your hunched figure again.

His gaze softened.

"Why don't you go home?" He suggested. You opened your mouth to openly protest, but Aaron cut you off before you even started talking.

"You need the rest," He made it clear to you, "and I'm sure Jack would love if you read him a story before bedtime."

You threw him a look. "You can't just lure me home using your son. That's not fair game."

The corners of Aaron's mouth twitched and he tilted his head.

You sighed. "Even if I wanted to go home," You said, "This paperwork won't finish itself."

Aaron moved closer to you and threw a glance over your shoulder, one hand supporting his weight on your desk as he leaned over your body.

"Let me do it," He offered.

You turned to look at him. "I can't ask that of you."

Aaron straightened up. "You're not asking, I'm offering."

Carefully, he pulled your pen out of your hand and put it back into its designated holder with multiple other ones that probably weren't even functioning anymore.

"Now," He drew out slowly, while his fingers were circling under the collar of your jacket hung over your chair, and he held it out to you, "Go home."

You threw him a doubting look. Aaron raised an eyebrow.

"I can make this an order if I want to."

You raised your hands, defeated.

"Alright, alright."

Slowly, you rolled your chair back and stood up, and accepted happily when Aaron helped you slip into the warm jacket. His hands kept steadying you at your shoulders. You closed your eyes and let your muscles relax against him for the blink of a second.

"Thank you," You muttered to him.

Aaron nodded. "Of course."

Your bag was already packed, it was a plus, as you lifted it off the floor.

"Maybe you can read Jack the book you brought him the last time," Aaron suggested. "He hasn't put it down since I showed him."

At his words, your face cracked into a huge, beaming smile.

"He actually liked it?" You hushed. Aaron nodded, smiling.

"That was my favorite book as a child, I'm so glad!"

You strode forward and pulled him closer to you in a short, but emotion-pouring kiss.

When you leaned away, Aaron smiled.

"Get home safe," He said. "Text me."

You dug out your headphones out of your bag and smiled at him.

"Always."

Then, not without throwing your lover a last kiss in your steps, you made your way out of the glass gates and left the building.

Only when the closed elevator doors put you out of his line of sight, Aaron allowed himself to finally pull out your chair and sit down.

He cracked open one of the brown files and started writing.

Only a few tables away, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were frozen in the same position they had been in just one minute ago.

Emily opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

Derek turned to Rossi. "Should we-?"

"No." The elder Agent cut him off.

Emily gestured wildly with her hands. "But they just-"

"I know, but - let's just not."

Spencer tilted his head.

Emily gave in.

They all just watched as their Unit Chief sat on your desk and filled out files that weren't his, as if it was the most normal thing on earth.

[landosjpg]

cowboy like me | ln

the one where you unexpectedly fall in love with someone just like you, but it doesn’t turn out as you expected.

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~1.8k

warnings: strangers to lovers to strangers again (lando is a player lol), smut (MINORS DNI), slight choking, spit, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (don't do this), a little of praise, the tiniest bif of fluff, angst in the end

please tell me if i'm forgetting anything!

note: hi, hello, i'm back! this took me way longer than i had intended but i went through a little writer's block and found myself staring at my screen for hours without writing a single word. this being said, not my proudest work but at least we're getting somewhere. this is the last part of this series i started a few weeks ago, it's not proofread but hope you enjoy it!

very much against your will, your dad had dragged you with him to the annual christmas dinner that he and some old friends of his had been planning for weeks. he had promised you would leave early, but of course it was only a white lie so you would put up with it without much complaint.

that's how you found yourself sitting all alone in a small bench in the corner of the crowded bar, trying your best to ignore everything that was going around you, a little overwhelmed. you barely knew your dad's friends, and since he was busy entertaining some of them, you had decided to just get away from all of it for as long as possible.

"mind if i sit there?" a masculine voice took you back to reality, making you look up from where you were scrolling on your phone.

you quickly recognized him: lando norris, the son of one of your dad's old classmates. your dad had mentioned him once or twice, but you didn't really know much about him.

uninterested, you shrugged and scooped a little to the side to leave some room for him to sit. he did so, sighing as you went back to your phone when silence fell hard between you two, his back resting against the bench and his eyes scanning the crowd.

"want to dance?" lando broke the silence after a few minutes, and you felt his eyes on you. you cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised with his question. your eyes went back to the crowd when you noticed that the music was louder than before; everyone had a drink in their hands and while some people engaged in conversation, others swinged to the rhythm of the music.

"you don't actually want to dance," you finally answered with a roll of your eyes and a low chuckle.

"come on, don't be boring!" he insisted, standing up and offering you his hand with a smirk. you considered turning him down again, but ended up accepting his offer with a sigh, if you were gonna be forced to attend that stupid dinner, you might as well enjoy yourself for a while.

you took his hand in yours and he pulled you up before quickly guiding you to the crowd.

୨୧

only about an hour later, you found yourself in the elevator to his apartment, your body pressed to the mirror as his hands rested on your lower back and your arms wrapped around his neck while you exchanged hungry, desperate kisses.

after a few dances and some small talk, his lips had found the spot right under your ear as he whispered how gorgeous you looked in that dress. he was quick to suggest calling a taxi, and you nodded in agreement without even having time to think about it.

just one night, no strings attached. you both wanted the same thing.

he guided you through the corridor to his apartment the second the elevator's doors opened, his hands holding your hips as you walked backwards. he pressed you against the door, lips still locked as he looked for his keys in the pockets of his jeans.

as he opened the door, his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you against him. he ushered you inside, quickly trapping your body once again between him and the wall of his entryway. his hands traveled down from your waist to your ass as he attacked your lips again, making you whimper when he gave you a gentle squeeze.

his fingers slipped down to the back of your thighs, where he softly patted your skin over your dress, instructing you to jump. you immediately complied, legs wrapping around his waist while his hands cupped your ass, pulling your dress up so he could feel the warmth of your skin.

lando softly groaned against your lips when your fingers found their way to his hair and tugged on it softly. he pressed his body closer to yours, leaving no space between you two and making you feel his hardness against your thigh now that your dress was pooling at your hips.

"fuck," you mumbled, clenching around nothing.

"can't wait to be inside you," he whispered in between kisses, making you whimper as you felt one of his hands sliding between your legs, fingers pulling your underwear to the side.

he pulled away ever so slightly, just enough to look at your eyes as he coated two of his digits in your arousal before sliding them inside your pussy. your eyes fluttered close almost immediately, another sigh leaving your lips as your walls enveloped him perfectly.

"eyes on me, baby. wanna see those pretty eyes," his voice was low, his breath against your lips making you try to grind down on his palm.

you obeyed once again, looking at him through half-lidded eyes as he slowly pumped his fingers into you, teasingly. one of your hands cupped his cheek as you admired his features, your eyes finally locking into his green orbs, the intensity on his gaze making you clench around his digits.

"feels so good," you panted, trying to keep your eyes open as you held yourself on his neck. "need more," you added, biting your lower lip to hold back a louder moan as you felt him curl his fingers inside of you.

"impatient, are we, baby?" he asked with a chuckle.

"please, lando," you panted, your voice sounding weaker than you intended. at your plea, you felt him withdrawing his fingers from your core and bringing them to your mouth.

he gently tapped on your bottom lip, prying you to open your mouth for him. your lips parted slowly and he didn't waste any time to slide his fingers inside, making you taste yourself on him. you softly hummed and felt your eyelids finally giving up as you sucked on his fingers eagerly.

"good girl," he murmured, pulling his digits out againt and slowly moving to undo his jeans.

as he still held you against the wall, his pants and underwear pooling at his feet, he spat on his hand before stroking his cock a couple of times, his eyes on your face as you looked down at him. he tapped on your chin so you would look at him as he positioned himself at your entrance, the pink flush on your cheeks bringing a smile to his face as he started pushing inside of you slowly, both of you moaning in unison as you enveloped his whole length.

he pushed you further into the wall for added support, one of his hands on your hip and the other resting on the wall. lando found the spot between your jaw and your collarbone and hid his face as he bottomed out, a muffled grunt leaving his lips as he felt you clenching around him already.

he let you adjust to his size for a few seconds before starting to roll his hips into yours slowly, starting to pick up the pace as he left small, wet kisses on your neck and up to your jaw.

"fuck, baby, taking me so well," he panted when his lips reached yours, swallowing a moan from your throat as he licked into your mouth.

one of his hands slid between your legs, fingertips finding your clit and lazily starting to play with it as he fucked you. the added stimulation had you rolling your eyes back, your fists holding his shirt as he pushed you against the wall again and again, his lips muffling the filthy sounds coming out of your mouth.

"oh my god," you whined, feeling his thrust become harder and his cock reaching even deeper inside you, your hands finding their way under his shirt so your nails could dig on his lower back, urging him closer.

you felt his hand creeping up from your pussy to your neck, fingers circling around your throat and applying a slight pressure on the sides of your neck, making you throw your head back against the wall with a loud mewl.

"'m close," you managed to choke out in between pants, feeling the knot in your stomach about to snap when his grip on you became tighter, fingers bruising your delicate skin.

his thrusts became sloppier, breath heaview as his low, raspy moans sent you over the edge. your body tensed up and your pussy clenched around him as you cried out.

the tight grip on his cock was enough for lando to spill inside you only a few seconds later, thrusts lazy as he rode both of your orgasms out. he finally let go of your throat as you panted into each other's mouths, his hands now holding your shaking legs around his hips.

he slowly let go of you, placing you back on your feet tenderly. he helped you get out of your dress, and walked you to his bathroom to get you cleaned. the nice gestures took you by surprise, you had never had a guy seem to care like that.

not that you had really wanted it either, but when he guided you to his bed, covered both your bodies with a blanket and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, you couldn't help a smile from creeping up to your lips.

and it wasn't what you had promised before leaving the bar during the christmas dinner, but you found your way back to his bed only a few days later. and inevitably, you did again the very next week. it felt different this time, falling for someone. he cared, he made sure to make you feel loved every single day for a little over two months.

but when he had to leave again for pre-season testing, you felt everything crumbling when you caught yourself checking your phone for the tenth time that minute, in hopes that his name would pop on your screen again.

you looked at the last text you sent him, asking if he had landed already. only for it to not get delivered.

you knew he had. you had seen pictures of him at the airport posted by fans on social media hours ago. you sighed as you realized that he had, most likely, blocked your number, not wanting to do anything with you anymore.

and you should've expected it, you had heard stories about his ways of playing around. but for a few months, you had believed he could be the one for you.

you felt stupid, heart-broken even. you had fallen head over heels for him, and now all you knew is you would never be able to love anyone like you had loved him again.

[iwritefandomimagines]

NOT MY FIRST RODEO — COOPER HOWARD/THE GHOUL

masterlist

pairing: cooper howard/the ghoul x reader, mentions of john hancock x reader hehe

description: the tension between you and cooper had been palpable for ages, and he was beginning to struggle to deny his attachment to you — despite his reluctance. he’s certain you’d never really be interested in him like that, until he finds out he’s not the first ghoul to enjoy your company.

warnings: swearing, jealous!coop, sexual references/implied smut, angst, making out, mentions of drug taking

author’s note: writers block was POOF! gone the minute i rewatched fallout last week & restarted fallout 4. hancock will always be my bf so i couldn’t help myself from mentioning him. let me know if u want a part two with actual smut! i only left it out because i don’t really usually write smut on this blog haha.

—

Cooper Howard and John Hancock were by no means what you’d call friends.

However, as much as it pained him to admit it, the former knew that the latter was — by the standards of many — a good man who’d do the right thing to help others when needed.

That was why, however begrudgingly, he’d suggested that you spend the last few hours of today’s daylight making the short trip to Goodneighbor to stay ‘for a while’.

It was clear that an intense few days, hunting a difficult son of a bitch of a bounty, had very much tested your limits.

He told himself that, given the amount of caps that said son of a bitch had earned you, you could afford a couple of days laying low in Goodneighbor before picking up another job.

Well there was that and the fact that much to his dismay, in the short time you’d been accompanying him on the road he’d found himself irritatingly attached to you.

When he’d first stumbled upon you while collecting a bounty you’d failed to deliver on yourself, you’d enthusiastically offered your companionship and he’d fervently denied it.

You knew he doubted you’d be any use based on your circumstances when you met, but despite your reassurances that it was just because he was the notorious fucking ghoul that everyone went on about and he had simply beaten you to it, he dismissed you with a “not a chance, sweetheart,” and went on his way.

But when he kept bumping into you in the following days, he’d given in and afforded you the luxury of helping him out on this one job — allowing himself the comfort of the excuse that if he really needed, he could trade you for caps and say goodbye to the pretty girl so oddly desperate to be at his side.

You’d driven him crazy at first — full of questions and curiosity, never refraining from voicing what was on your mind.

The way you watched him so carefully, all doe-eyed and attentive, had initially just pissed him off. But in the weeks that followed this had mellowed, and he’d found himself almost grateful to have someone so comfortable around him.

He’d never admit that though.

You’d just been much more skilled in combat than he had expected. That’s why he told himself he kept you around.

He totally just figured that it couldn’t hurt to have someone close by who can handle themselves and is willing to take just a tiny stake of a bounty (on your part, you figured there was no need to take more — he basically spent his share with you anyway).

You, on the other hand, didn’t want to admit that you had been lonely and desperate and missing the life you’d previously been so comfortable in when Cooper walked — well, stormed, into your life.

He might not ever have intended to (in fact — if he’d known, he’d probably never have let you get so close) but upon gradually letting you into his life he’d nestled his way into the empty little nook left behind in your heart.

“Why did you hesitate when I said Goodneighbor?”

Oh yeah, there was that.

When you’d left Goodneighbor all those months ago, you’d left with a broken heart and a head full of hazy memories of the happiness that the place had once brought you.

“I didn’t hesitate.”

“You sure as shit did, and even you know you’re a damn bad liar,” the Ghoul scoffed, pausing his pacing and turning to look you in the eye, “What does a pretty little thing like you know about Goodneighbor?”

You folded your arms over your chest, shaking your head at him as his steely eyes bore into yours, “Nothing. Just odd you’re suddenly so eager to go hide away somewhere when you’ve called me all sorts’a names any time I’ve asked for even a short rest break.”

“You’re full’a shit,” his hand flew instinctively to the shotgun at his hip before he released a deep sigh and relaxed it, “So I’m gonna ask you one more time. What do you know about Goodneighbor?”

You pondered for a moment whether or not to keep lying to him — he didn’t know much of your full past beyond the fact that you’d been a vault dweller a long time ago and been fighting for a living since.

You’d settled briefly in a number of places, though, and he’d heard too many stories about times you’d left settlements for various reasons to believe that you’d be too scared to return anywhere with him at your side.

Especially not somewhere like Goodneighbor.

“I—was living there for a while,” you shrugged, avoiding his gaze again now, “Didn’t like it.”

The Ghoul laughed humourlessly at that, “C’mon sweetheart, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

“I didn’t feel—look there’s just someone I don’t really want to see round there, okay?” your eyes didn’t leave the floor as he took a step closer to you, heavy breaths almost taunting further information from you.

“And who might that be?”

You looked up at him for just a second before eyeing the dust below your feet again, “I was, well, I lived there quite a while. I was—seeing, well, romantically— uh, there was—,”

“Spit it out, sunshine.”

Sunshine.

You’d not been called that since the day you left Goodneighbor the last time, and you cursed yourself for physically recoiling at the sound of it.

“Well I’ll be fuckin’ damned. You got a thing for ghouls, huh?” the wicked grin on his face set your stomach alight with a combination of emotions, “Didn’t peg a pretty little thing like you as the type. That why you spent so long beggin’ me to take you with me? Little vaultie princess desperate for another ghoul to defile her?”

You were crimson red now.

You didn’t know how to react, startled by the fact that he knew who you meant based upon your reaction to the term.

Hancock had always been charismatic and flirtatious though — it was no wonder Cooper had heard him use the phrase before.

You were almost angry, immensely embarrassed and yet, at the same time, a little aroused by even his insinuation that he knew that you wanted him in that way.

You’d found him attractive almost immediately and yeah, maybe he was right and you did seem to have a thing for ghouls.

But you sure as hell weren’t going to let him stand there and make you feel embarrassed right now.

“That’s not it, it’s not some kind of—like—,”

“Hancock got bored of ya and you latched onto the next irradiated motherfucker you came across?” he spat, “Bet you regret it now you know that I sure as shit ain’t nothin’ like your precious old mayor.”

Somewhere in the harshness of his tone you were sure you could detect a hint of jealousy at the root of his mocking.

You sighed defeatedly, “I wasn’t looking for some kind of fucking replacement when I met you, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I just— you just— well— Whatever, it’s hardly like you’ve made any suggestion you’d want me if I made a move on you anyway.”

His eyes seemed impossibly dark now, narrowed on you as his finger reached up to tilt your chin upwards towards him, “Is that right, sweetheart?”

Your legs were like jelly beneath you, a jolt of lightning in your veins at his touch.

“Sure, you flirt with me, but you’re so damn up ‘n’ down sometimes that I don’t know if it means anything,” you shrugged, skin tingling as his fingers lingered beneath your chin, “If I was lookin’ to replace John, it would’ve taken more than you being a ghoul for that.”

If he still had eyebrows, they’d have been raised now, his eyes rolling, “Right, nobody comes close to Mr. Righteous Mayor.”

His breath fanned over your face, his eyes returning to stare into yours as if looking for a reaction he knew you wouldn’t want to give him.

But you were all riled up now — so he was going to get one.

“What, is this a pity party? You want me to tell you he’s not all that? That I’m better off now I’ve found you? Oh Coop… I want you, I need you, you’re better than him. Only ghoul for me,” you mocked, pressing your hand to your forehead in feigned fawning before snapping back to seriousness, as he watched you frustratedly.

“Like I said, you weren’t a replacement. I wanted company and somewhere along the way I’ve been fuckin’ stupid enough to like your company more than I should,” you huffed, “You don’t have to pretend you want more than this flirty-but-I-hate-you-a-little arrangement ‘cos you’re jealous knowing I’ve had much, much more than that with someone else— and another ghoul at that.”

A growl left his throat at your words, his hand meeting your waist and pushing you forward so that your back was pressed against the wall.

“You’re playin’ a dangerous game here, sweetheart,” he warned, “And it’s one you won’t win.”

Your head fell back in frustration and met the wall with a small thud as his other hand pressed firmly against the wall beside it.

“You think I feel inadequate or something?” he snarled, and for a moment you weren’t sure if the question was rhetorical.

“How the fuck should I know? It’s hardly like you let me know how you’re feeling ever,” you sighed, your mind growing increasingly cloudy at your close proximity and his hand still on your waist, “That’s all I meant about John. It’s nice to know someone wants you… Hell, it’s even nice to be told when they don’t no more just as long as you’re being told.”

He was baring his teeth in a snarl still, but his lips began curling back up into a smirk, “You think I don’t want ya? Think I haven’t thought about it when you’re at my side like a fuckin’ dog on a leash looking at me all doe eyed an’ fuckable?”

Your cheeks couldn’t have been more flushed, and you knew he could feel the way your thighs clenched together at his words.

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it?” your response was a breathy whisper, the hairs on your neck pricking up and your heart thumping hard against your ribcage.

“Oh that’s a whole can of worms you don’t want opened, sweetheart,” he licked his lips, “Sweet little thing like you shouldn’t be with someone like me. But looks like I ain’t gotta worry about that, huh? Hancock’s already spoiled ya.”

You broke his intense gaze for a moment, eyes finding the floor as your teeth grazed your lips shyly at the weight of his words.

You couldn’t help the feeling that swelled in your chest at the lingering jealousy, and hearing him talk about wanting you as badly as you’d wanted him all this time gave you the confidence to push it.

“Oh he spoiled me good, you’re right,” you shrugged antagonistically, trying to quell the pain that still sat in your chest — albeit pain that took up much less space now that you’d found Cooper.

He scoffed, “That’s fightin’ talk for someone who don’t wanna see him again, darlin’.”

“Yeah well, he made me the happiest I’d been in the Wasteland since I left the vault and then tossed me aside ‘cause he got it in his head that I didn’t actually wanna be with him, like I must’ve been using him for his power and couldn’t really love him ‘cause he’s a fuckin’ ghoul — as if I didn’t know that when we met,” you grunted, “That’s all the fuckin’ chems for ya.”

Cooper leaned in closer to you now, “Well he’s a fuckin’ bigger idiot than I already thought he was, giving up you when he had ya all to himself like that.”

“Figure he doesn’t care. Might as well be married to Goodneighbor anyway.”

There was silence between you for a moment, nothing but heaved breaths and heavy eye contact as you pieced together what to do next.

You watched Cooper’s eyes flicker down to your lips for a moment, and could almost see the conflict behind them as he battled the urge to kiss you.

“I don’t wanna see him, but I don’t still want him, if that’s what’s stopping you,” you gulped, “In case it’s not loud and clear, I want you. Just didn’t wanna see him without any confirmation you aren’t gonna rock up there and declare me as some kinda fuckin’ pet and humiliate me even more than he did.”

“Enough talk about him,” Cooper growled, one hand pulling your face to his by the jaw, “If he don’t realise what he’s missin’, I definitely fuckin’ do.”

Finally, he kissed you.

Your hands flew around his neck, lips meeting his with equal fiery passion and pure need.

His one hand still remained cupping your jaw, whilst the other explored the waistband of your trousers earnestly, thumbing at your hipbone.

Finally, after all of these weeks of pining and sexual tension, Cooper Howard was giving you exactly what you needed — and all thoughts of John Hancock melted away.

You found yourself pulling him as close as physically possible, allowing him to press you against the wall as he stole your breath with the intensity of the kiss.

“Mightn’t be your first rodeo, sugar,” his lips pressed just behind your ear as he spoke, “But I’m sure as shit gonna make it feel like it is.”

———

eeeee please lmk if you’d like a part two with smut. or just a part two where they eventually go to goodneighbor. please feel free to request more coop or some hancock, and be warned there are more coop x hancock’s gf/ex!reader fics in the drafts because i can’t stop myself!!!!

in the meantime — here’s my masterlist.

[draconic-desire]

💥 Take My Whiskey Neat 💥

Yandere Boothill x Reader

Again and again, you find a way to escape, and every time ends with you peering down the barrel of a gun.

Warnings: Yandere behaviors, forced relationship and captivity, implied kidnapping, some suggestive content but mostly sfw. Mild spoilers for his background story; I want to write him both as a super attentive and protective guy but also crazy for you???

You’ve become all too familiar with the sensation of a gun being pointed to your forehead.

“Aw, darlin’, why the long face? Took me two whole days to find ya this round! You should be proud’a yerself. I dare say our time together has taught you well,” he concludes with a wink.

Somehow, his praise feels more like a taunt.

That’s because it is. Obviously you never had a chance at escaping from him, a Galaxy Ranger with a bounty on his head worth more than your life a hundred times over. He was born and raised to hunt, to track, to kill. You’re just the unlucky target.

He leans the gun ever so slightly closer to you, mere inches before it can graze your skin, and waits for your response. Although you know he won’t pull the trigger, the sight of the 9 millimeter colt aimed directly between your eyes still sends goose flesh skittering down your arms.

You grit your teeth and pin him with a withering glare. The last thing you’ll relinquish is your pride—you’re not intimidated by him, and it is impressive that you evaded him for so long, relatively speaking. Your other escape attempts lasted mere hours.

Unfortunately, the fact that the Ranger has always traveled alone doesn’t help your chances—especially when lately, his only occupation has been you.

“What, no clap back today? No, ‘fudge you, ya son of a nice lady’ or ‘fork you, shirtbaggin’ bootlicker’? I’ve gotten so used to yer colorful language that I’m almost disappointed!” Boothill tilts the gun and juts his hips, his bullseye gaze locked on your own.

Ignoring the subtle look of longing, of hurt, within their depths is getting harder and harder. He’s superb at hiding it behind jokes and attempted curses, but you know that look. He’s clinging to you after all that’s been taken from him, seeking love after it was destroyed in flames. If only he still held onto his human emotions and didn’t rely on that neuro chip of his; then he’d know that what he’s showing you isn’t love, but obsession.

You wish you had never extended your kindness to him that fateful day, when he’d burst into your home, sparks flying and wires exposed. One of his arms was barely attached, completely torn through with bullet holes. A shootout, he’d said, and he’d caught wind of a handy ‘machine doctor’—a mechanic, you’d corrected him—in town who could fix him right up.

It had taken a full two weeks for you to get him back up and running functionally. Two weeks of evading IPC grunts knocking on your door in search of him, two weeks of tolerating (and fine, maybe even enjoying) his crude jokes, and two weeks of stories over a glass of whiskey, about your hope to one day travel among the stars and his of finding a companion to do so with.

That’s when he’d seemed the most human. Voice tinged with sorrow, yes, but lips curved into a morose smile, eyes looking up at the stars. Reminiscing about when he was still fully human, nothing but a cowboy on a seemingly insignificant planet, surrounded by his adopted parents and siblings, and even that little girl whom he never got to see grow up.

After he’d shared his story, you’d felt the sudden urge to be close to him. Without thinking, you’d brought your hand up to his cheek, wiping an invisible tear despite the fact that he lost his tear ducts long ago.

He’d sucked in a breath and gone deadly still; thinking you misjudged the situation and overstepped a boundary, you’d quickly started to jerk your hand back, only for him to lock it firmly against his face with his metal palm.

His voice, normally loud and clear through the synthesized distortion, had been quiet, low, wavering. “I—please, don’t stop. That feels…nice.”

You were sad to see him go after those two weeks. You honestly expected to never see him again—he was a Galaxy Ranger, after all, the definition of a lone wolf—but to your surprise, his visits didn’t end there. He kept returning again and again, and not just for repairs. Sometimes he’d bring you gifts or tell you stories of his hunt, and you’d cherish those moments when the galaxy felt just a bit less lonely with him.

Then the visits started to increase in their frequency—and intensity. He’d show up while you were working with a client and brazenly threaten them to leave so he could occupy your time instead, or he’d appear on your doorstep in the middle of the night with your favorite bottle of liquor, winking at the sight of your embarrassed form, still in your nightclothes. Your world suddenly seemed to revolve around the gunslinging cyborg.

You’d had to put your foot down—as much as you did enjoy his company, you wouldn’t allow him to interfere with your career. You’d worked hard to gain your skills, and even though you were barely scraping by and living in a tiny, modest home by yourself, you were still proud of what you’d achieved on your own.

His initial reaction was an uncharacteristic and frightening bout of silence, his pupils blown wide, locked onto yours. Just as quickly, his typical smirk returned as he laughed it off. “Just watch out, lil cutie, ‘cause I know you’ll be missin’ me soon.”

Apparently, soon was imminent, immediate. You were pouring yourself a drink after a long week of work when he finally kicked down your door and announced you’d be coming with him.

“I’ve been waiting a long while now to claim you, darlin’.”

“And if I refuse?”

That was the first time you witnessed his gun trained on you.

Now, Boothill drags you along everywhere, hopping from one planet or system to the next, living together as nomads. What you believed to be a serendipitous friendship, he thought was the start of your romance and life together.

It would be thrilling in any other circumstance, treading the path of The Hunt, evading the law, tracking down the IPC members who destroyed his family…except the cyborg transferred that need to protect, to save someone, onto you. You have no choice but to be his now, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets you go.

“You just want to hear me curse because you can’t,” you growl. What a stupid argument to be having with a pistol to your head. Yet you can’t help but siphon all of your anger into this dumb little game of cat and mouse, of shark and minnow, of hunter and bird.

He forgets you’re not the only one armed.

You flash him the most vulgar gesture you can make. “Go fuck yourself, Boothill.”

The cowboy throws his head back in a laugh. “Haha! There she is. Wild as a newborn colt.” He grins, flashing those shark teeth you’d groan to loathe. You’ve lost count of the number of puncture marks and scars they’ve littered across your flesh.

That’s something he can’t seem to get enough of—the feel of your warm, organic, human skin against his cold, steel shell.

“Lan shoot me with an arrow, do you ever shut the fuck up?” you grumble, looking up as if the Aeon will give you an answer.

“Think ya already know the answer to that,” he replies, lowering his weapon to sling his opposite arm around your shoulders. The gun hangs languidly from his other hand, as if he’s not the deadliest shot in the galaxy.

His breath brushes your neck as he leans in and nips at your ear. “Now, how ‘bout we take this back home, eh cutie? Two days without you has got me pretty…” His voice drops an octave. “…pent up, if ya know what I mean.”

The tooth marks along your skin flare. Oh, you know all too well.

~*~

Trying to find the solution to your imprisonment at the bottom of a bottle seems like a really clever idea, at least until the room starts spinning.

The empty glass cracks against the wooden table again as brown liquor burns down your throat. What did he call it? Rocket fuel? Damn right, and you’d lost count of the number of shots you’d taken.

Boothill’s normal smirk is contorted into a small frown. “Darlin’, I know it’s been a long couple’a days away for you, but I think we should retire the whiskey for the time being—”

“Shyut up!” you slur, jabbing a finger at the Ranger, your neck still throbbing from all the love bites and hickeys he’d given you. “Thiz is your fault.”

He reaches for the bottle, but you snatch it away and instead start to take pulls directly from it. A deep sigh reverberates behind you as you stand and begin to spin around, hands extended. “Aren’t we celebrating you catching me again? You got what you wanted, you…you mudder…fuuuu…” You sway and just barely catch yourself before you tumble—wait, no, that’s him steadying your shoulders.

“(Y/n).” You blink out of your haze momentarily; only on rare occasions does he use your name and not things like darling or cutie. His face is controlled, mouth tilted downward. “Put the bottle down. I know the feelin’ of wanting to drown in liquor, but it ain’t right.”

“I’m only like this because you took me from my life!”

He bares his teeth, and you know you hit a nerve. “That little shack you called a home? Was that really livin’? All those nights we talked, you said how you wanted grand adventure and risk! To travel and see the stars! To be with me!”

“I didn’t ask for you to put me in a moving cage,” you spit back, trying to shake out of his iron-clad grip. “But you never asked what I wanted, did you?”

“Why’s this all so hard for you to accept?” One hand moves to grab your chin, tilting your face towards his tall form. “It could be just us, ridin’ through the galaxy for all time.” His lips brush lightly against your own, and you feel a tinge of warmth run down your spine. “Just be mine.”

In your drunken stupor, your anger morphs into something else, something more carnal. He wants to be the predator? Well, even the hunted fight back sometimes.

The bottle drops from your hand, shattering against the floor, as you hook an arm around his neck and kiss him fervently, your tongue running along the edges of his pointed canines.

Before he can kiss you back, you pull away, wiping the back of your mouth with your forearm. “That’s what could have been if you hadn’t kidnapped me. If you’d asked me first.” Skipping over the remnants of the whiskey bottle, you flip him the finger over your shoulder as you walk away. “Too bad that’s all you’ll get. Fork you, Boothill.”

As soon as you leave the room, Boothill raises a metal digit to his lips, savoring the sensation of your warm mouth against his. So that’s what your willing kiss feels like. The true passion he knows is hidden deep in your soul, buried beneath the dirt like an unmarked grave. He releases a breathy laugh.

Well fork him sideways, but he wants more.

Taking his hat off, he sets it on the table and moves to pour himself a glass of sherry. He’s nearly positive he’ll find you passed out in bed if he goes to you now, and knows he shouldn’t, can’t be in the same room with you when his self control is so near to breaking. Better to let you sleep it off and tease you about the kiss in the morning.

Boothill kicks his feet up and takes a long sip. So, it turns out your drunken self may actually be harboring some attraction for him. Yeah, he can use that.

“I’ll have you someday,” he whispers, a promise to both you and himself. “Whiskey ain’t the only thing that’ll be on your lips, darlin’.”

[latenighttalking00]

A Work of Art

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are a Marchioness from france and your mother is adamant that you wed. She is a very close friend of the Dowager Vicountess Bridgerton who has so generously agreed to be your sponsor for the season. Perhaps in doing this, she has unknowingly found her son's perfect match as well.

Warnings: slow-ish burn, friends to lovers, smut, 18+, minors dni, hair pulling, possessive/dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving). This is just porn with a plot.

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: Hi! This is my first time writing, so apologies if it's a bit rough; English isn't my native language. Hopefully, you all absolutely drool over Benedict the same way I do. enjoy!

Once the social season had begun its approach, you and your family make haste on your return from france. Due to your newly given title, you are projected to be quite the diamond this season indeed.

As a close friend of the family, the Dowager Viscountess, Violet Bridgerton kindly offers to sponsor your debut this season, meaning that it is now of the utmost importance to arrive promptly at the Bridgerton home in London before the season is to begin.

As you sit in the drawing room, awaiting the next potential suitors you will inevitably send on their way, the clear and evident dread in your expression does not go unnoticed by your mother. A quick swat to your knee from her fan catches your attention, a visible look of warning on her face as your eyes meet hers.

"I do hope that attitude of yours is quick to dissipate." She sighs, "Men will find you quite inadequate to wed if you are to continue this ridiculous behavior. It is quite unladylike." Your mother's words cut right through you as if she had taken a hot paring knife to both of your ears. Not being able to withstand it any longer, you quickly stand from your seat and interrupt her.

"Mother, this gown and the line of men outside the door are quite suffocating enough; no need for your incessant nagging as well." You take a moment to pause, regaining your composure.

"I believe I am feeling quite faint; perhaps I've seen enough suitors today." You threaten rather than suggest, "I will return to my chambers and perhaps get a bit of rest seeing as the sun has already began it’s departure from the sky."

You bow and quickly excuse yourself before making haste out the door, walking as fast as your feet can take you, right past the men who are practically begging for just a minute of your attention.

You race directly to your bedroom, entering quickly and not even fully shutting the door before you are pulling down the zipper of your gown and letting it fall to the floor. "This retched thing must come off immediately," you mumble to yourself as you pull at the laces of your corset, loosening them just enough to slide off your body. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you slip off your stays and slip on a beautiful white nightgown you purchased from one of the most talented modiste in france.

Shortly after the maids come to collect your gown, you are quick to wander down the halls in search of a cure to your relentless boredom. you find what appears to be an art studio and you are instantly overjoyed. you quietly sneak in through the door left ajar.

Art was your pride and joy; your sketches and the ability to produce beautiful works on canvas were the only things keeping you from becoming a mad woman.

Unbeknownst to you, Violet's second-eldest son and the owner of said art studio had just returned home from the gentleman's club. As he makes his way down the hall, prepared to return to his studio and peacefully finish up some things he started the night prior, he is met with complete and udder surprise at the sight of a woman flipping through his sketchbooks.

He feels as if the air has been knocked right from his lungs. Never once has a woman looked so real, raw, and simply ethereal to him in nothing but a simple yet elegant night gown, the pages in between your delicate fingers, the way in which you sit, your effortless and beautiful features, and the way they change and turn to show your focus, the true and utter intrigue at the charcoal etched on the paper is more than enough to bring a man directly to his knees.

He watches as you adjust your position, your nightgown sliding up your thighs as you cross a leg over the other. He feels as if he might faint.

“those are from my time traveling.” he points, making his way in to the room.

So lost in thought, you are quickly brought back by the sound of the deep and sultry voice coming from the hallway, it sends chills down your body, you are unable to fight the butterflies in your stomach and are completely unprepared for what you’re eyes are met with the second they dare to leave the pages in front of you. He is perhaps one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen, the way his features darken in the dim candle light could cause scandal merely on its own.

As he makes his way over to you, you scramble to find any sort of words to not appear as a complete and udder fool. “désolée, my Lord. All this beautiful artwork caught my eye and i could not help myself.” your voice only making his new found attraction grow even stronger.

“Benedict Bridgerton..” he says just loud enough for you to hear. He is quick to take your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss y/n y/l/n” you respond, a blush creeps over your cheeks as your eyes meet his. Your name and accent are both very quick explanations as to why a very random beautiful woman was wondering in

his family home.

“Ah yes, the Marchioness from France. My mother has done quite a bit of boasting upon your arrival, i can now see why she was so keen on you being the diamond of this social season” he chuckled lightly “merci, Lord Bridgerton.” you offer him a warm smile as you place the sketch book in his hands.

Your hand grazes his and you feel as if your body is set aflame. You quickly fumble to stand, attempting to leave before any further scandal is to happen. he is quick to catch you by the arm, his light grasp more than enough to keep you in place.

“Please, stay as long as you’d like.” He offers, taking a step towards you, but you are quick to shake your head, knowing staying any longer may very well affect your title and rank during this very precious season.

“You are more than kind.” you place a hand over his and squeeze lightly. He leans even closer, your face mere inches from his. his scent fills your nose and you cannot control the heat that consumes your body, the sheer need you have for him in this very moment. “I must- i uh-..” he raises an eyebrow at your words. though his proximity fogs your brain, you attempt to compose yourself. “Perhaps i can show you some of my art in the duration of my stay here.“ he smirks, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he nods “if what you create is half as beautiful as you, my art will never hold a candle to yours.” he compliments.

Your breathe catches in your throat as his words. “..Benedict- Apologies, Lord Bridgerton..” you quickly correct yourself, the use of his first name not going unnoticed by him. “I’m sure both your and my Mother will have quite the earful if i am found in here, i must go.” Before he is even able to protest, you are gone.

As the days pass, You begin to consume his every waking thought, the sound of your voice, the feeling of your skin on his is burned in to his memory and he cannot shake his want for you.

Anthony is quick to notice his admiration, the wandering stares and close proximity immediately become apparent in Anthony’s eyes. As the family settles in the drawing room, Anthony is quick to pull His younger brother aside “You’ve grown quite close with Marchioness” Anthony offers his younger brother a warning glance and Benedict simply smirks in return “Brother, are you suggesting that i’ve compromised Miss y/l/n?” he laughs. Anthony in no way finds this amusing “See to it that your intentions are well thought out and you are thinking with your brain rather than something else. She is a Marchioness, toying with oversea affairs may be more than risky, even for a Bridgerton.” Anthony notes, the clear and evident weariness in his voice wipes the smile right off Benedict’s face

“Brother, do remind me. Did you not ask for one Sharma’s hand in marriage and then proceed to marry the other? You need not inform me on scandal for i am more than well aware of what i am doing.” he place a hand on Anthony shoulder and squeezes light before walking away.

time skip

Benedict does everything in his power to gain every fraction of your attention when it is available. The two of you spending more time together than any of the men attempting to court you. This new grown fondness blossoms quickly and Benedict soon becomes one of your most trusted friends. Spending late nights in his art studio, promenades in the garden, pall mall with his family. You’ve never felt more at home than with your dear Benedict and his lovely family. This fondness grows very quickly to something much stronger. Knowing Benedict’s stance on courting and marriage in general, you shake the thought. Knowing your dear friend will never see you as anything but.

While enjoying another late night in his studio, you can’t help but feel different. You both are well aware your time together is coming to end. Suitors begin growing impatient and proposals begin rolling in faster than the tide.

“I quite like Lord Lumley, he is handsome and he finds interest in poetry.” Benedict is quick to laugh “Lord Lumley is a dimwit after nothing but your title.” you wince at his words “Clearly he’s much more of a gentleman than you.” You tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?” he asks, the change in his tone sending heat right between your thighs. He rises from his place on the stool and saunters over to you, his large frame towering over yours.

“Repeat what you said.” he orders

“Ben i was merely kidding i-“ you stutter, his proximity making your skin feel as if it were on fire.

“Do not make me ask you again.” he warns, a smirk on his face

You are a bit taken a back by his demeanor but the insatiable desire in your body fills you with a sudden surge of confidence. “Lord Lumley is more of a gentleman than you, Lord Bridgerton.”

Benedict lets out a low chuckle before leaning down, his mouth right by your ear.

“Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps Lord Lumley isn’t plagued by the same un-gentleman like thoughts that fill my head the moment you step into a room.” he sighs, his breath on your skin only making matters worse.

Your hands find his half buttoned shirt and you press your hands lightly to his chest “Benedict.” you warn.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes with his own. Your noses practically grazing as he speaks. “Tell me now that you do not desire me.” His hands rest on either side of your face “Simply speak the words and i will respectfully withdraw and allow you to be with whomever you like but first you must tell me you do not desire me and you wish for me to leave you alone.”

“Ben.” You mumble quitely. Every feeling or emotion that the second eldest Bridgerton has ever caused immediately rises to the surface. At a complete loss for words, you do what you feel is right in the very moment and you bring your lips to his.

The kiss quickly fills with passion, weeks of hidden adoration and care comes bubbling over the surface.

“Marry me.” he say breathlessly as he breaks from the kiss. “You have shown me what is it truly like to admire a woman. To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all of her defenses crumble and that you would willingly take on any pain or burden for her. To honor her being with your deeds and words. You make me feel what only a true poet describes." his works nearly bring you to your knees as tears threaten to escape your eyes. “I would move the heavens down to earth for you if i knew it would make you smile.”

“Benedict.. Je vous aime.” you reassure him “I love you mon chéri, more than the moon loves the night sky. You are my everything, my best-friend. I would give anything to be your wife.” He pulls you back in for another kiss which very quickly becomes heated.

He trails hot kisses all over your jaw, neck and bosom. “My beautiful Fiancée.” he mumbles, his wandering hands sliding their way up your thighs, threatening to breach the hem of your nightgown. You are immediately reminded of your current location and you push the dark haired boy back “Ben.. not here” you breathe out, The second Bridgerton son just smirks before kneeling down in front of you.

Unsure of what he’s planning, you remain silent, eyes trained on his as he begins trailing kisses up from your ankle to your inner thigh. His hands trail up the back of your legs, giving your ass a playful squeeze as he reaches it, causing a gasp to escape from your lips.

The mere sight of him like this sends heat directly between your thighs, all logical thinking thrown out the window as he begins to tug your panties down your thighs. A blush creeps over your cheeks and your hands find his hair, tugging lightly. Benedict continues with no hesitation, pressing light kisses all over your inner thighs, leading right up to your aching core. You’re unable to fight back the sounds that leave your lips as you feel his tongue pressed against your clit. “Christ Benedict… you’re going to be the death of me.”

He wastes no time, lapping, kissing and sucking at your soaked heat as strong hands grip on to your thighs, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You lean against his desk to keep yourself upright while quiet moans and whimpers escape your lips, your hands pulling and tugging at his messy black hair, only encouraging him more. He pulls back only for a moment to look up at you “You taste fucking divine, my beautiful work of art.”

He is quick to return to your soaked heat. As his tongue works relentlessly on your clit, he slowly pushes two fingers inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust before slowly thrusting them in and out. Shortly after, you feel an unfamiliar knot form in the pit of your stomach and Benedict is aware immediately due to your incoherent mumbles and the way you clench around his fingers. “That’s my girl..” he says breathlessly “just like that..” After hearing his words, you completely unravel, shaky moans escape your lips as one hand grips on to the table and the other with a tight hold on your Fiancées hair.

Once your body has relaxed, he gently pulls your panties back up before standing to face you. You watch as he brings his fingers to your mouth “Open.” he commands and you immediately oblige, opening your mouth as he slides his fingers past your lips. The unfamiliar taste and the sheer sight in front of you causes a blush to fall over your face. He removes his fingers with a groan and offers your a smirk “You, my dear Fiancée are going to be the death of Me.”

A/N: Hi guys! I really hope every likes this :) if you have any request, feel free to send them to me :)

[welovelouisandbucky]

My two favorite Slytherin boys headcanons bc why not?

T/w: few swear words, my writing, and some out of character stuff because im delusional, little suggestive if you can call it that, and yes aside from that if you find any pls let me know:) also my writing

A/n: hi y'all, I just want to say pls be kind as this is my first time writing for these characters so if there's any mistakes pls overlook them thank you! Also I tried my best to keep this GN so everyone can read and enjoy this and yeah that's it, have great day!!!

S/n: requests are open so feel free to send in ideas, I'll love to write what you guys suggest. Also feel free to ask for more Slytherin or any Harry Potter characters you want headcanons/blurbs about, I'll love to write and add more🤗

Masterlist

Mattheo Riddle

(gifs credits to the rightful owner)

Also this one's long as you can see I got carried away😁

Mattheo who always looks forward to see your face after the end of the day

Mattheo who will fight any one who looks at you funny or talks shits about you

Mattheo who glares at every single person but the seconds he spots you his eyes softens up in millisecond in adoration

Mattheo who holds your books or bag everywhere you guys go, because God forbid if his princess/prince ever has to worry about those things when he's there to do them for you

Mattheo who waits after you when the class is over so he can walk you to other class while he pulls you as closer to him as possible

Mattheo who searches for you before every Quidditch game so he can have his good luck charm kiss from you

Mattheo who pretends to hate and act tough when you baby him while secretly melting into a puddle inside every time you call him sweet names. ( He absolutely loses his shit when you call him baby but shush it's a secret 😌)

Mattheo who has probably drawn you only few hundreds of times in his super, super duper, very classified sketchbook that no one knows of.

Mattheo who always encourages you to do things you want to do but are too scared to actually do it.

Mattheo who always supports your decisions, even if they are stupid

Mattheo who appropriates your little hobbies and interests even if they are weird, he just wants to you to feel safe and heard around him

Mattheo who's always there for you whenever you need him, always there to hold you close on bad days because he knows how it feels when you are at your worst and there's no one to comfort you (thankfully he doesn't have to worry about being alone now that you are here as well as his friends)

Mattheo who struggles with expressing his emotions and feelings but still tries his hardest to show them to you because he wants you to know how much you mean to him.

Mattheo who's not that good at comforting but still pulls you to him because he can't stand seeing you cry and not do anything about it.

Mattheo who willingly listens to you rant about everything and anything because he loves hearing your voice (even if half of the things you said are going above his head but hey at least he's trying! ☺️)

Mattheo who hates not knowing what's happening around him because it makes him feel helpless and he hates feeling weak. That's why he always, and I mean always knows what's going on everywhere

Mattheo who's touch starved (bc yk all that being dark Lord's son and growing up with death eaters and all) and craves your touch. He's always in any way touching you, whether holding hands, or a hand on your thigh or waist just any kind of physical touch because he wants to be as close to you as possible.

Mattheo who loves loves cuddles, doesn't matter who's spooning who as long as you guys are in each other's arms.

Mattheo who loves you so much that it physically hurts him, and there's nothing he wouldn't do you

Mattheo who will always protect you no matter what

~~~

Theodore Nott

Theo who loves to tease you throughout the whole day just so he can see you all worked up for him

Theo who looks forward to your quick comebacks every time he comments on something he knows he will get reaction out of you and absolutely loses his shit when you roast the shit out of him for it

Theo who calls you sweet endearments in Italian because he loves to see your confused smile, contemplating whether he roasted you or called you something sweet in foreign language

Theo who keeps you company while you finish your homework in library

Theo who loves spending time with you on Astronomy tower (he just in general loves spending time with you but astronomy tower is more special to him) while you are snuggled up against his side as you guys look at stars.

Theo who will read with you, doesn't matter what kind of books you guys are reading as long as both of you are together.

Theo who prefers reading classic novels but will happily read cheesy rom-com books with you because you said so (secretly he enjoys them too but hush🙈)

Theo who actually enjoys reading poetry, and sometimes when you guys are alone he'll read few to you

Theo who's always there to comfort you whenever you have problems with your family because he knows how it feels.

Theo who's always there to stand up for you in any situation

Theo who starts to smoke less around you if it bothers you, but if you smoke too then both of you guys will smoke together at the Astronomy tower

Theo who loves silence and doesn't enjoy talking much but is always ready to listen to you talk for hours, you are the only person he can talk and listen to for eternity without ever getting sick of it.

Theo who loves when you wear his clothes

Theo who said I love you first time when he saw you curse someone out because they said some shit about him, he doesn't really care whatever shit they were saying but seeing you stand up for him made him feel emotions he never felt before.

Theo who just absolutely loves you and wants to spend entirety of his life with you

Thank you so much for reading, likes and comments are very much appreciated. As well as positive criticism, pls don't hate this is a safe place for everyone!! Bye bye have great day!!!

~~~~

Enzo's headcanon!

[bratzforchris]

OMG CAN U WRITE DAD CHRIS WITH TWIN BOY AND GIRL AROUND THE AGE OF LIKE 6-7? THEY WOULD HAVE HIS EXACT SAME PERSONALITYYYY. the girls name would be dream bc that’s such a chris thing to do is to name his daughter dream and one time he said he likes the name grayson for a boy on a stream so please i beg u write a scenario of ur own with the details i gave u and this will be my comfort fic

Gotcha

Summary: In which you and your twins receive some valuable information from Uncle Nick and use it to play a prank on Chris

Pairing: Dad!Chris x mom!reader

Warnings: Tiny bit suggestive towards the end

Word Count: 793

A/N: Thank you for the request! This was literally so cute and silly to write :') Enjoy!

“Mommy?” Your six-year-old son, Grayson, asked you, looking up from his dinosaur coloring book. 

“Yeah, baby?” You hummed, looking up from the stove to the kitchen table where he was sitting. 

“Did you know that Daddy screams like a girl?” he asked you with a little giggle. 

“Oh really?” You asked with a chuckle, well aware of these screams your son was describing. 

“Mhm!” Grayson’s twin, Dream, piped in. “Uncle Nick told us that.” she added, eyes still trained on her Hello Kitty coloring book.

Your children had spent the day with Nick since Chris had quite a bit of work to do for FreshLove and you had been helping out a friend who had recently had a baby. Knowing Nick, they’d been told god knows what, but this was one you couldn’t help but to find hilarious. A little known fact about Chris was that when he was startled, he would let out a yelp akin to that of a little girl who’d just received a puppy for Christmas. He had tried to hide it from you for as long as possible, knowing you would use it to your advantage and you definitely did.

“Do you guys wanna play a prank on Daddy?” You smirked, your eyes alighting with excitement. 

“YES!” the twins cheered in unison. 

Ever since you and Chris had started dating a little over nine years ago, you had always been a playful couple, constantly playing pranks on each other and telling dumb jokes. You hadn’t lost that nature after marriage or children, and the playful spirit of both of you had been passed to your twins. You quickly called your kids over to where you were standing, crouching down to their level and whispering in their ears. 

Grayson and Dream looked at each other and giggled after you told them the plan. The three of you had decided that you would scare Chris by having the twins hide in the pantry and you would ask Chris to retrieve the pasta. When he opened the doors, they would jump out at him. You giggled softly as you helped your children into the pantry and closed the door softly, whispering from them to be quiet or else the prank wouldn’t work. 

“Chris, honey?” You called throughout the house, as you stepped back towards the stove, stirring your pot. “Can you come here? I need your help.”

It wasn’t long until you heard Chris thudding down the stairs from his office. You were honestly surprised how quiet the twins were staying as Chris entered the kitchen, but then again, they took after you and their daddy. When they were committed to a joke, they were committed. 

“What’s up, ma?” Chris asked you, kissing your cheek as he hugged you from behind. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you,” You whispered back, kissing his cheek as you tried not to let your own excitement show. “Hey, I called you down here to ask if you could get the noodles for the soup? I don’t wanna leave the pot.”

“Anything for you.” Chris kissed your lips softly, caressing your sides. 

As he migrated over to the pantry, you pulled out your phone and began to record your husband. You wanted this moment immortalized forever, mostly for a fond, funny moment your children could look back on later in life. Chris pulled open the pantry, and just to plan, Grayson and Dream jumped out, wrapping themselves around his legs and yelling “RAHHH”.

Just as Nick had told them, Chris let out a squeal. “HOLY F…fishsticks,” he yelled, not wanting to curse in front of the twins despite his scare. You and your children doubled over laughing at Chris’s surprise as he slung them over his shoulders. “Did you help them with this, ma?” he asked you, now laughing as well. 

“Maybe…” You sing-songed, finally stopping the recording and putting your phone down.

“Uncle Nick told us you scream like a girl and he was right!” Dream giggled, her blue eyes that perfectly matched her daddy’s shining.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Chris mumbled under his breath, setting the twins in their chairs for dinner. 

“You do scream like a girl, Daddy.” Grayson said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his juice. 

“I do not!” Chris protested, looking to you for help, only to see you chuckling as well. “Help me out here, babe.”

“You really do, Chris. You really, really do.” You giggled, covering your mouth. 

“I’m gonna get you for this later, ma.” Chris whispered in your ear, discreetly pinching your ass as you served up dinner. 

And sure enough, once the twins had been put to bed, Chris made good on his promise of getting you back for the prank. 

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @mattsfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxyz @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @bunny-cotton @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @not-phone-guy @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @faygo-frog @oobleoob @runasvengence @aemrsy

note ♡: my taglist is closed for the time being, thank you so much for your support 💐🧸🎀

[justadeadreaper]

okay so I'm curious- puptrapping you say? That you'd need another post to go into? I'd like to encourage this please

Puptrapping?

You want to hear about puptrapping, you say?

Anon, your wish is my command.

Just so you know, this is like you encouraging a crack addict by finding them a new dealer. I am not joking because this is my obsession at this point, but I do encourage you to send in more asks about Omega!Makarov or ideas you want me to write about because I will. I never originally thought of puptrapping; instead, it was my dear friend @frogchiro who said that she thought he would based on a comment I made about him tying you down to make sure you cum in him. Also, do thank @frogchiro because she helped me form these ideas in our late-night rants, and she is my biggest encourager.

Now that I have written this, I am tempted to write about Omega!Makarov with pups or a fic based on this idea if anyone wants it.

Obvious warnings for puptrapping (omegaverse version of babytrapping) and all the shit that goes with it, Omega!Makarov spiking your drink with an omegaverse version of Viagra (that sounds so fucking weird), but also a big misunderstanding between Omega!Makarov and reader.

This whole idea is based on it being a misunderstanding. Omega!Makarov is a feared man; no one even knows he is an omega; you were only allowed that grace of knowledge due to being his alpha -specifically chosen for being the most desired for your size and strength-. Knowing how secretive he was about his second gender, you presumed that he would never want pups as it would reveal his identity to the world, and he could not have that, could he? Hell, you did not even think he loved you; he only used you to satisfy his natural instincts that come with being an omega so that he would not be on a constant edge from having his subconscious desires not be fulfilled. You enforced the rule around using some form of protection as you did not want to force or pressure him into having pups that he would never want in a million years.

But oh, you poor, dumb alpha. How wrong could you be?

Omega!Makarov is infatuated with you. As soon as he saw you, he knew that you had to be his; no one else would be able to satisfy him after he saw you. Yes, he may be a cruel, heartless man but he loves you in his own special way and let me tell you he loves you with all his heart! He genuinely does! Now, being that he loves you so much, it is only natural that he wants your pups; it is only made worse by him being an omega and having the natural instincts to breed and have pups that poor omegas like him have. He knew he wanted pups from a young age, even if he knew that he did not love like a normal person does. Another part of him wanting to have pups is his own relationship with his father. A narcissistic, bullheaded alpha that abused Makarov and his poor brother for being omegas, Makarov had to watch as his poor mother was abused for not giving that asshole the alpha sons he desperately wanted. His father was never nice to him; he was a horrid father who chickened out at the last minute instead of suffering the consequences of his actions. Makarov does not want to be like that; he instead wants to be the best father he can be and have as many pups as he can to shove it to the old man who damaged him so much, to embrace the one thing his father abused him for and always forced him to hide.

So, for you to say that you need to use birth control? That is the biggest insult to him! Do you not love him? Do you not think he is a good enough omega to have your pups? Are you just using him to get yourself off? Are you planning on just dropping him off one day? Why do you not feel like him? He wants your pups so badly, why do you not want to give them to him?

He damn near hissed at you for suggesting such a thing, but he decided to hold his tongue as he knows he will get his way, he always has.

Now it just. depends on what type of birth control you force him to use for what he does to still be able to have your pups.

Condoms? Expect every single one to have multiple puncture holes from the set of pins that used to belong to his mother. Small enough for you not to notice but just big enough to allow enough cum to come through to give him a nice litter of pups. But that is only if you are stupid enough to allow him to be the only one to supply the condoms or allow him to be around the box by himself for longer than two minutes. If you buy them and never let him near them, you can be sure that those things will rip because, for some reason, your knot was a lot bigger than it normally is causing the condom to rip.

Birth control? He is lying about being on it. The prescription he showed you was a fake he forced a poor pharmacist to make as the pills inside that he showed you were nothing more than sugar pills mixed with the omegaverse version of Viagra known as an Amplifa that helps people knot while also increasing their fertility that he forced the drug dealers he hires to make. Each day, he will take them in front of you, knowing that they do not work. But if you are the one to supply the pills, then he is finding any pill or herb known to man to counteract it so that the birth control fails.

The Amplifa he uses to spike your drink and his own have a few side effects. I imagine omegas to have a reverse knot to match an alpha’s knot, which means they are doubly bonded. How it works is by inflating the sides of the passage like how, for an alpha, the base inflates to lock inside; it is to make sure that the alpha is being milked of all their cum and that the omega is too tight for the alpha to pull out. Since both he and you have been spiked with it, it causes your knot to inflate beyond the point of it being pulled out while he is too tight that it hurts to try and pull out. It also makes the knots last for hours upon hours instead of the normal half an hour to an hour, as it makes you cum so much. Not to mention it makes you incredibly more horny so you could fuck for longer.

With everything prepared, he has sex with you.

Once you are close to cumming he leg locks you making sure you can not push him off as you cum. Your knot inflating inside him as he milks you dry, all while he is still moving his hips in a specific motion to cause more friction that stimulates you and makes you hard yet again. Wiggling his hips and whining as you have yet another orgasm while the two of you are stuck together as his reverse knot will just not let go. Watching as his tummy begins to form a bump already as it grows from how much cum you have stuffed inside of it with every orgasm. He puts on the “I��m innocent, I swear!” act; he uses all the manipulation tactics he knows, the fake tears, the lies, the everything. He is just a simple omega who was trying to enjoy sex with his alpha; he has no idea what is going on. Whining over how worried he is since with this much cum he is most definitely already pregnant, even if you were being safe. All of this while he continues to move his hips as you cum once more.

And as soon as you are asleep from exhaustion and overstimulation he is gently caressing his stomach as he purrs. He can already imagine the litter of pups he will be having in a few months and how much of a happy family you all will be...

[newobsessionweekly]

Rays of hope

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x wife!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: Your son is kidnapped and you and your husband, Tim, do everything you can to get him back.

ANGST | Hurt to comfort

Requested: Yes - here

Warnings: Kidnapping, kid being held hostage, description of being shot, injuries, losing consciousness.

A/N: I LOVE WRITING ANGST. I've worked so hard on this one and I absolutely love how it turned out. I won't say anything else, I'll let you enjoy it. I have so many ideas and I seriously make it a full time job writing everything.

Words: 6.1k

GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

As the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, the Bradford household stirred with the promise of a new day. The aroma of brewing coffee mingled with the gentle sounds of morning chatter as you and Tim bustled around the kitchen, preparing for the day ahead.

Evan, your bright-eyed three-year-old, bounced around the room with infectious energy, his laughter filling the air. Tim knelt down, scooping his son up into his strong arms, showering him with tickles and kisses.

"Hey there, little man," he chuckled, his voice infused with affection. "What adventures are you up today?"

Evan giggled gleefully, wrapping his tiny arms around his father's neck. His response was a jumble of words, excitement evident despite his struggles with forming coherent sentences. "Catch the bad guys like mommy and daddy!"

Tim chuckled, planting a gentle kiss on Evan's cheek. "That's right, buddy. Just like Mommy and Daddy" he said, his voice gentle as he tousled Evan's hair affectionately. "But first, how about some superhero breakfast?"

Tim's presence seemed to illuminate the room even more. He approached you with a tender smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his love as he enveloped you in his embrace. His arms wrapped around you securely, a comforting shield against any worries or doubts.

"Morning, baby," his voice, like a soothing melody, whispered into your ear, sending shivers of warmth down your spine. "How are my two favorite girls this morning?"

In that moment, as his hand brushed over your bump with such tender care, you felt an overwhelming rush of love and gratitude for the man standing before you. Tim's gaze lingered on you, his eyes filled with an unspoken promise of unwavering support and devotion.

"We're doing great," you replied, leaning into his embrace, savoring the feeling of being held so close.

Tim pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment as if to convey all the love he felt. "You look absolutely radiant," he murmured, his voice filled with awe and admiration. "I swear, every day you glow even more."

As Tim settled Evan into his chair, you couldn't help but admire the sight before you. Tim embodied strength and tenderness in equal measure. Dressed casually, his rugged charm shone through effortlessly. With every movement, his love for you and your son was evident, his hands deftly helped Evan eat breakfast while his eyes sparkled with warmth. Watching him with Evan, you couldn't help but feel a wave of adoration for the man who filled your home with love and security.

"Uh-oh. We have a problem," you announced, your voice tinged with concern as you glanced down at your phone. "Nanny just texted me. She can't make it today."

Tim's brow furrowed slightly as he considered the situation, his mind already working on a solution. "What about your mom?" he suggested. "Can't she babysit Evan today?"

You shook your head regretfully, a sigh escaping your lips. "I don't think so. She's outside LA now," you explained, your thoughts racing to find an alternative. "Maybe your sister?"

At the mention of Genny, Tim's expression darkened slightly, "No, custody battle today," he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of worry. "We'll figure something out, baby. Don't worry."

As you and Tim exchanged worried glances, Evan piped up from his seat, his innocent voice breaking the tension in the room. "Mommy, Daddy, no worry," he declared, his eyes wide with determination. "Evan help!"

You stepped into the familiar hustle and bustle of the station and Evan's eyes widened in wonder at the sight of officers in their crisp uniforms bustling about their duties. With a gleeful tug on Tim's hand, he eagerly dashed around, taking in every detail with unbridled enthusiasm.

"Daddy, look! Cops!" Evan exclaimed, his words a jumble of excitement as he pointed at the officers. "Lots and lots!"

Tim chuckled softly, his heart swelling with pride at his son's eagerness. "That's right, buddy," he affirmed, his voice warm with affection. "This is where mommy and daddy work, with all their friends."

Your son darted around, his boundless energy matched only by his excitement, he greeted each familiar face with enthusiasm, his words a mixture of gibberish and genuine attempts at conversation.

"Hi, Lulu!" Evan exclaimed, flashing Lucy a toothy grin as he reached up to give her a high-five.

Lucy laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Hi there, little buddy! If it isn't our favourite visitor!" she replied, returning the high-five with a gentle pat on the head. "You've grown so much since the last time we saw you!"

Evan beamed at the attention, his chest swelling with pride. "I big boy!" he declared proudly, his words punctuated by a triumphant grin.

Next, Evan turned his attention to Angela, his eyes alight with recognition. "Hi, Auntie Angie!" he chirped, reaching out to tug on her sleeve.

Angela's heart melted at the endearing nickname, her smile softening as she crouched down to Evan's level. "Hey, champ," she said, ruffling his hair affectionately. "He's the spitting image of his mother." she said to Lucy, shooting you a playful wink.

Evan beamed at the praise, his chest puffing out with pride. "I grow big like Daddy!" he declared, his words filled with confidence.

Nyla and Nolan watched the exchange with fond amusement, their own smiles widening as Evan made his rounds. You watched your son with amusement, glad he's terrorising your friends and gave you and your husband a moment to catch your breath.

"Don't forget Nyla and John." Evan eagerly nodded at your words, making his way to Nyla first.

She joined in, her face breaking into a wide smile as she crouched down to Evan's level. "Hey there, buddy! You remember my name?" she extended her hand for a handshake.

Evan shook her hand vigorously, his eyes shining with excitement. "You Nyla! I Evan, I help mommy and daddy catch bad guys!" he announced proudly, his words punctuated by a giggle.

Nolan chuckled, ruffling Evan's hair affectionately. "Looks like you've got quite the little helper there, Tim," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Evan saw the opportunity for more attention and he grabbed Nolan's pants, "John, look!" he exclaimed, pointing at something only he could see.

Nolan chuckled, crouching down to Evan's level. "What am I looking at, buddy?" he asked with a grin.

Evan giggled mischievously, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You funny!" he declared, wrapping his tiny arms around the officer's neck in a spontaneous hug.

Then, in a burst of excitement, Evan's face lit up with a newfound revelation. "I meet baby sister soon!" he announced, his words tumbling out in a rush.

The officers exchanged surprised glances, their expressions shifting from amusement to shock at the unexpected news. "Baby sister?" Angela echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Congratulations!"

Nolan grinned, clapping Tim on the back in hearty congratulations. "Well, Bradford. Looks like you're in for double trouble," he teased, his tone affectionate yet teasing.

Amidst the chorus of well wishes and congratulations, both you and Tim couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude for the supportive community they had found within the station.

"So, what's the little guy doing here?" Angela inquired, her brow furrowed in concern.

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair as he explained the morning's events. "Well, nanny bailed on us last minute," he admitted, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "We didn't have enough time to find someone else to watch him."

Nyla nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic. "I can call James," she offered, already reaching for her phone. "He can take Evan with him for the day."

Meanwhile, Lucy's eyes lit up with an idea. "And Tamara's here for a school project," she added eagerly, gesturing towards the young woman across the room. "She can watch Evan in the meantime."

Tim's shoulders visibly relaxed at the offers of help, gratitude flooding his heart. "Thank you, both of you," he said sincerely, his voice filled with relief.

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, touched by the kindness and support of your colleagues. Despite the unexpected hiccup in their morning routine, you couldn't help but feel reassured knowing that you had such caring friends to rely on.

As Evan bounced around the room, his excitement palpable, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of your son surrounded by so much love and warmth.

Tamara returned from the restroom and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the empty break room. Evan's toys lay abandoned on the table, but there was no sign of the energetic three-year-old. She left only for a moment, assigning Smitty to keep an eye on Evan but she couldn't find any of them.

"Evan?" she called out, her voice tinged with concern as she scanned the room frantically. "Where are you?"

Panic began to bubble up inside her as she rushed out into the hallway, calling out for Evan at the top of her lungs. "Evan!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls of the station. "Come on, kid! This isn't funny. We didn't agree to play hide and seek!"

Her heart pounded in her chest as she raced through the corridors, her eyes darting from room to room in search of any sign of the missing child. The fear gnawed at her insides, threatening to overwhelm her with its intensity.

"Y/N's gonna kill me," she murmured under her breath, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. She couldn't bear the thought of facing you and Tim with the news that your son was missing on her watch.

With each passing moment, the weight of responsibility pressed down on her shoulders, driving her to search even more desperately for Evan. She prayed with all her might that he was safe and sound, waiting to be found somewhere within the station.

Tamara's heart raced as she rushed to Angela's desk, her hands trembling with fear. Her eyes widened at the sight of Tamara's panicked expression, immediately sensing that something was terribly wrong.

"What happened?" Angela asked, her voice filled with concern as she reached out to steady Tamara.

"It's Evan," Tamara blurted out, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I don't know what happened. He—uh, he's not in the break room. I can't find him."

Panic surged through Tamara's veins, threatening to overwhelm her as she struggled to catch her breath. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gripped her heart, knowing that Evan was missing and she was responsible for his safety.

Angela's eyes widened in alarm as she grasped the gravity of the situation. "Okay, okay, let's stay calm," she reassured, though her own heart raced with fear. "Let's go to talk to Grey."

Together, they hurried to Sergeant Grey's office, their steps quickening with each passing moment. Angela explained the situation to the sergeant, her voice urgent as she described Evan's disappearance. He wasted no time in springing into action, dispatching officers to search the station up and down and the surrounding area for any sign of Evan.

Returning to Angela's desk, they accessed the security cameras from the station, their hands shaking as they scrolled through the footage. With bated breath, they watched as a figure dressed in black approached Evan in the break room, his face obscured from view.

As they watched in horror, the figure took Evan's hand and led him out of the station through the front door, disappearing into the bustling city beyond.

Angela's stomach churned with dread as she exchanged a horrified glance with Tamara. "We have to find him," she said, her voice trembling with urgency.

You and your rookie arrived as backup for Tim and the day seemed like any other—filled with the usual hustle and bustle of police work and the consuming thoughts about your son now more than ever. It wasn't about that you didn't trust Tamara or James, it was more the fact that your son was in a not so familiar place.

When Sergeant Grey's voice cut through the radio, your maternal instincts kicked in, suddenly feeling something was not right.

"7-Adam-19, 7-Adam-100, please return to the station," he commanded, his voice terse and filled with an unspoken sense of dread.

Immediately, you and your husband exchanged a look of concern, your hearts pounding in your chests as you hastily wrapped up the call. Questions swirled in your minds, but you could sense the urgency in Wade's voice, driving you to act without hesitation.

Rushing towards the station, your thoughts were racing with a million terrifying possibilities. The atmosphere was charged with tension, officers scurrying about with grim expressions etched upon their faces. You and Tim shared a look of mutual fear, your hearts pounding in your chests as you braced yourselves for the worst.

"What happened? Where's Evan?" your voice trembled with fear as you approached Sergeant Grey, your eyes searching desperately for any sign of reassurance.

Grey's expression was grave as he met your gaze, his own eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy. "Please sit down," he urged gently.

But Tim couldn't bring himself to comply, his chest tight with anxiety and dread. "Don't do that," he interjected. "Just tell us what happened."

Sergeant Grey sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the news he had to deliver. "Fine," he relented. "Evan's been kidnapped. We're waiting for the security footage of all cameras around the station, but Detective Lopez might have a lead."

The words hit you and Tim like a sledgehammer, leaving you reeling with disbelief and anguish. Your sweet, innocent son had been taken from you, and you both were powerless.

The weight of the situation settles over you like a suffocating blanket, "Thompson" the name escapes your lips in a whisper, heavy with the burden of past encounters with the man.

Memories flood your mind—the chilling threats, the sinister promises of retribution, the menacing glint in his eyes as he swore vengeance upon you and your loved ones.

Tim's expression darkens with a mix of anger and concern, his mind racing as he processes the implications of Thompson's involvement. "I didn't know he got out," he admits, his voice tight with frustration and worry.

Your eyes fill with tears, heart aching with the unbearable fear of the unknown as you grasp your husband's hand tightly. "We gotta find him, Tim. We need to find Evan," you plead, voice trembling with desperation.

Tim's jaw clenches with resolve as he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms a comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions raging within you. "We will, baby," he vows, his voice a steady reassurance in the face of uncertainty.

He holds you even tighter, his touch a silent reassurance amidst the chaos that surrounds you. With gentle strokes of his hand along your back, he tries to soothe the trembling of your body, his touch conveying more comfort than words ever could.

A wave of despair washed over you both as you sank into nearby chairs, minds racing with a whirlwind of emotions. In that moment, your world shattered into a million jagged pieces, leaving behind only a gaping void where your son's laughter once filled the air. Both of you were consumed by a sense of helplessness and grief, your hearts heavy with the unbearable weight of uncertainty.

Tim feels your trembling body in his arms, he knows that mere words can never be enough to ease the crushing weight of your fear. With gentle fingers, he brushes away the tears that stain your cheeks, his touch tender and comforting. Each stroke is a promise—a promise that he will do everything in his power to bring your son home safe and sound.

In the depths of his heart, Tim feels a surge of pain and helplessness, knowing that you, his wife, are bearing the weight of your son's disappearance with every fiber of your being. His own worries and fears are pushed aside as he focuses solely on providing comfort and strength to the one he loves most in the world.

Tamara rushes to your side, her usually composed attitude shattered by panic and guilt. Her face is pale, her hands shaking as she struggles to find the words to express her guilt.

"Y/N, Tim... I'm so sorry," she stammers, her voice quivering with emotion. "I was only gone for a minute, I left Smitty with him. I... I don't know what happened. When I got back, he—uh, he was gone. I'm so sorry."

Your heart breaks for Tamara, knowing the weight of guilt she must be carrying on her shoulders. Despite your own anguish, you reach out to embrace her, offering comfort and solace in the midst of the chaos.

"It's not your fault, Tamara," you reassure her, voice filled with compassion and understanding. "It's okay. We'll find him."

The tension in the room reaches a fever pitch, Angela breaks the heavy silence with a sense of urgency in her voice. "Guys, I think I've found something," she announces, her eyes darting between Tim and you.

Tim's heart leaps with hope as he strides over to Angela's desk, you close behind. "Show us," Tim demanded, his voice tight with barely contained emotion.

Angela quickly pulled up several surveillance footage clips on her computer screen, the images grainy but unmistakable. "Look here," she pointed, her finger tracing the path of a rusty van leaving the surroundings of the station.

Tim's jaw tightened with determination as he surveyed the footage, his mind already racing with plans and strategies to track down the van and bring Evan home. "It's worth a shot," he declared.

Your heart swelled with gratitude and relief, eyes shining with tears as you leaned in closer to the screen. "We have to go after it," you insisted, voice trembling with desperation and determination.

Tim nodded in agreement, his resolve unwavering. "Alright. Let's get airship support and all the surveillance footage we can find. We need to know every move that van makes," he commanded, already reaching for his radio to issue the orders.

Before you could finalize the plans, Tim's hand shot out to stop you in your tracks, his expression wrought with concern. "You should stay behind," he insisted, his voice soft but firm, his eyes pleading for you to consider your safety.

Your heart sank at the thought of being left behind, your fear for Evan overwhelming any sense of self-preservation. "Not a chance," you declared, your voice trembling with determination. "I'm coming with you. We need all the help we can get."

Tim's gaze softened as he looked into the your eyes, his heart swelling with love and admiration, "Y/N, please. I need to know you're safe. I need you and the baby girl safe," he confessed.

Your resolve only hardened at Tim's words, determination unyielding in the face of adversity. "And what about our boy? What about Evan? I need to find him," you insisted, voice filled with desperation.

In that moment, Tim knew that there was no arguing with your determination. With a heavy sigh, he relented, his heart heavy with worry but his resolve unshaken. "Alright," he murmured, pulling you into a tight embrace. "But promise me you'll stay close. I can't lose you too."

You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude for Tim's understanding and support. "I promise," you vowed.

With a sense of urgency driving forward, you quickly arrived at the last location where the van was seen. The air crackled with tension as you surveyed the surroundings, the weight of the mission pressing down on you.

Tim's voice cut through the silence as he commanded the team to split up and patrol on foot, his words echoing with authority. "We need to cover every inch of this area," he instructed. "Lucy, Nolan, take east side. Nyla, Angela, cover west. We'll take north."

You nodded in silent agreement, eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. With each step you took, your hearts hammered in your chests, minds racing with a thousand terrifying possibilities.

Together, you moved cautiously towards the building, the footsteps echoing in the eerie silence of the abandoned street. Tim's hand brushed against yours, a silent gesture of reassurance as you approached the looming structure.

Around the corner, you caught sight of the van parked haphazardly in the alleyway, its doors hanging open as if inviting you inside. Tim's grip tightened on his radio, the other one squeezing your hand even tighter, as he relayed your location, his voice steady and controlled despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"7-Adam-19, we've located the van. Requesting immediate backup at the north entrance," he spoke into the radio, his words precise and urgent.

With bated breath, you entered the building, hearts pounding in your chests as you navigated through the dimly lit corridors hand in hand. Every creak of the floorboards, every flutter of movement in the shadows, sent shivers down your spines as you pressed forward, determination unwavering in the face of danger.

Your hearts stopped as you took in the sight before you— your precious son, bound and gagged, his eyes wide with fear, and the kidnapper, a sinister glint in his eyes as he held the gun to Evan's head.

Evan's small body trembling in fear as he stared up at both you and Tim with tear-filled eyes. The sight of him, helpless and vulnerable, struck a deep chord within you, igniting a firestorm of emotions that threatened to consume you whole.

The knots that bound Evan's wrists and ankles were tight and unforgiving, cutting into his delicate skin and leaving angry red marks in their wake. The sight of your son restrained like a prisoner sent a wave of nausea crashing over, your stomach churning with a mixture of anger and helplessness.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you took in the sight of your son, heart breaking with every whimper and cry that escaped his lips. It was a sight you had only imagined in your worst nightmares—a sight that would haunt you both for the rest of your days.

You attempted to approach Evan, heart pounding with desperation and fear as Thompson responded with a chilling gesture, taking off the safety of the gun and pressing it even more firmly against Evan's trembling head. You froze in your tracks as you watched in horror, helpless to do anything but stand by and pray for a miracle.

Tim maintained a facade of indifference and purpose despite the pain and anger that consumed both of you. His face was a mask of determination, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he faced down the kidnapper. Inside, however, his heart was a tornado of fear and worry, his mind racing with a million worst-case scenarios.

Your heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice grip, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled against the overwhelming urge to protect your child.

Evan's whimpering pierced through the tense silence, his small voice tinged with confusion and fear as he struggled to understand the gravity of the situation unfolding before him.

Tears streamed down your face as you reached out a trembling hand towards your son, desperate to comfort him, but Tim's firm grip on your arm stopped you in your tracks.

"We can't risk it," Tim whispered urgently as he pulled you back to his side, his eyes never leaving Evan.

Your heart felt like it was being torn apart as you watched Evan's innocent whimpering, your own fear for your son threatening to consume you whole.

"Please," Tim pleaded as he addressed Thompson, his hands held up in a gesture of surrender. "Let him go. We can talk about this. Just let him go."

But Thompson's face twisted with anger and resentment, his grip on the gun tightening as he protested vehemently. "You think I'm just gonna let you walk away after what you did to me?" he spat. "You think I'm just gonna let you go back to your perfect little life while I rot in prison?"

Your heart sank as Thompson's words echoed in your mind, "What do you want?" you asked, your heart breaking at the thought of what Thompson might demand. "I'll give you anything. I'll do anything, just please let him go."

His eyes narrowed with hatred as he glared at you, "I want you to suffer," he snarled, his words like daggers in the silence. "Just like I did."

You and Tim tried to talk Thompson down, your hearts pounded in your chests, every second feeling like an eternity as you desperately sought to keep the kidnapper occupied. With Lucy and Nolan slowly approaching from behind, you prayed that they would be able to disarm him before it was too late.

Nolan positioned himself strategically behind Evan, ready to act as a shield if needed, while Lucy positioned herself behind Thompson, her muscles tensed and prepared for action.

"You're making a mistake," Tim stated firmly, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with the kidnapper. "You don't want to do this. Let my son go, and we can figure this out."

Thompson's eyes narrowed, his grip on the gun tightening as he glared at Tim with undisguised hostility. "You think I'm just gonna let you walk away after what you did?" he growled.

Tim's jaw clenched with determination as he met his gaze head-on. "We made a mistake," he admitted, "But that doesn't mean you have to make things worse. Let's talk about this like rational adults."

The kidnapper's expression remained cold and unforgiving, his finger twitching on the trigger as he glared at Tim and you with a mixture of anger and resentment. "You ruined my life," he spat, his voice filled with bitterness. "Now it's time for you to pay."

Tim's heart sank as he watched Thompson's finger inch closer to the trigger, every fiber of his being screaming to protect Evan at all costs. "Listen to me," Tim urged, "This isn't the answer. Let Evan go, and we can work this through."

But Thompson's eyes burned with a fierce determination, his grip on the gun unyielding as he leveled it at Evan's head. "It's too late for that," he snarled, his voice filled with rage. "You took everything from me. Now it's time for you to suffer."

Your heart sank at his words, the weight of his hatred crushing you beneath its suffocating grip. "We're sorry," you whispered, "We didn't know..."

Thompson cut you off with a bitter laugh, his laughter echoing off the walls of the empty room. "You didn't know?" he scoffed, "You didn't know that because of you, my wife and daughter are dead?"

Tears stung your eyes as Thompson's words hit you like a punch to the gut, the guilt weighing heavy on your conscience. "We're sorry," you repeated, "We didn't mean for any of this to happen."

His expression remained cold and unforgiving, his gaze fixed on Evan with a mixture of rage and sorrow. "You think your apologies can bring them back?" he growled, his voice laced with bitterness. "You think your words mean anything to me?"

"Even if you take our son away, it won't bring your wife and daughter back," Tim interjected, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Don't make things worse for yourself. If you let him go, we won't say a word. You won't go back to prison."

His words hung heavy in the air, a plea for reason in the midst of chaos.

But Thompson's patience wore thin, his grip on the gun tightening as he grew increasingly agitated. His eyes gleamed with malice as he surveyed the scene before him, a twisted smirk playing on his lips.

"Maybe you're right," he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "Maybe your little bastard isn't the solution. Your whore of a wife is. And pregnant with your daughter. She's perfect."

The words struck like a dagger to the heart, sending a wave of agony crashing over you. Tim's jaw clenched with barely contained fury, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he struggled to maintain his composure.

When the kidnapper's attention shifted towards you, pointing the gun in your direction with a menacing glare, it created a window of opportunity for Lucy and Nolan to intervene. In that harrowing moment, your heart skipped a beat as the barrel of the gun leveled towards you, but amidst the terror, a glimmer of hope flickered to life.

Lucy lunged forward, her eyes focused solely on disarming the kidnapper before he could harm Evan any further. She reached for the gun, her muscles tensing as she prepared to wrestle it from Thompson's grasp.

But in the chaos of the moment, his finger tightened on the trigger, the deafening sound of gunfire shattering the tense silence like a thunderclap. Your heart stopped as you watched in horror, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as the bullet struck its mark. Pain erupted through your body, but in the heat of the moment, the adrenaline dulled the sensation, allowing you to push through.

Every second felt like an eternity as you and Tim rushed to your son's side, the adrenaline coursing through your veins driving you forward. With trembling hands, you helped Nolan loosen the knots, your fingers fumbling in your haste to free Evan from his restraints.

As the last knot came undone, Evan let out a whimper, his tear-streaked face turning towards you and Tim with a look of desperation.

"Mommy!" he cried, his voice trembling.

Your heart shattered into a million pieces at the sound of Evan's voice, tears streaming down your face as you gathered him into your arms. "I'm here, baby," you murmured, your voice shaking with emotion. "Mommy and daddy are here. You're safe now."

Lucy pressed on, pinning the kidnapper to the ground and she swiftly secured him in handcuffs, effectively neutralizing the threat he posed.

Tim knelt down beside you and Evan, his movements were a blur of frantic yet tender gestures. With trembling hands, he pulled you both into his embrace, holding you close as if his mere touch could ward off the looming threat.

"I've got you," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion as he pressed kisses to your foreheads. "I've got both of you. Everything's going to be okay." His words were a fervent mantra, repeated like a prayer as he desperately tried to reassure himself as much as you and Evan.

You found solace in Tim's embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby against your ear. Despite the pain coursing through your body, his presence offered a sense of calm amidst the storm, grounding you in the midst of chaos. With each tender touch and whispered word,exhaustion began to overtake you, the weight of the ordeal bearing down on your weary body, sleep beckoned like a siren's call.

Your eyelids grew heavy with weariness, the pain fading into the background as you surrendered to the embrace of sleep, trusting Tim to keep you safe.

Tim's heart clenched with fear as he felt you grow limp in his arms, panic surging through him like a tidal wave. "No, no, stay with me," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "Don't you dare leave me, Y/N."

But despite his desperate pleas, unconsciousness claimed you, your body going slack against him. Evan's worried voice pierced through the fog of Tim's panic, the little boy shaking your hand with his tiny fingers. "Mommy?" he called out.

Tim's heart shattered at the sight of you lying unconscious on the ground, your face pale and peaceful in sleep. With trembling hands, he scooped Evan into his arms, shielding him from the sight of his mother's still form.

"It's okay, buddy. Mommy's just resting, that's all." Tim whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held Evan close. But inside, Tim's heart was gripped by fear, his mind racing with worry for you and your unborn baby.

Tim's shouts for help pierced through the chaos, his voice trembled with desperation, tears streaming down his cheeks unchecked as he held Evan tightly in his arms. Each cry for assistance was a desperate plea, a fervent prayer for the help that he so desperately needed.

As the paramedics rushed to your side, Tim watched in horror as they whisked you away on a stretcher. Fear gnawed at his insides, a cold dread settling over him like a suffocating blanket, his chest tightened with every step they took, each moment stretching out into an eternity of agonizing uncertainty.

Angela rushed at Tim's side, and with trembling hands, he handed over Evan into her care, his voice shaking with emotion as he tried to reassure his son in the midst of his own storm.

"It's okay, champ," Tim murmured, his voice choked with tears. "Go with Aunt Angela. Daddy's going with mommy to make sure she's okay." Despite the weight of his own fears bearing down on him, Tim forced a small smile for Evan's sake.

Tim sat at your bedside, his fingers gently tracing patterns on the back of your hand as he watched over you. Evan was nestled against his chest, his soft snores filling the room with a comforting rhythm.

"How are you holding up, Tim?" Lucy asked, placing a reassuring hand on Tim's shoulders.

"Hanging in there." he whispered, caressing his son's hair like it was an anchor that kept his sanity at peace.

They took turns checking on you, their concern palpable in the air as Tim greeted them with a weary but grateful smile. With each visit, Tim's heart warmed by the unwavering support of his fellow officers and friends.

"Thanks for being here," he offered, his voice tinged with exhaustion but filled with appreciation. "It means a lot."

Angela's gaze softened as she placed a reassuring hand on Tim's shoulder. "We're here for you, Tim," she reassured him. "Whatever you need, just say the word."

As you began to stir, Tim's heart skipped a beat, his gaze never wavering from your face as you slowly blinked awake. "Hey there," he whispered softly, a tender smile gracing his lips as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "How are you feeling?"

You returned his smile weakly, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "Better, now that you're here." The weight of the past few hours pressed heavily upon you, but the sight of Tim's presence beside you brought a sense of calm that you desperately needed.

Tim's heart swelled with relief at the sound of your voice, his fingers intertwining with yours as he leaned in to press another gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm never leaving your side again," he vowed, his voice filled with conviction as he gazed into your eyes.

Evan stirred against Tim's chest, his sleepy voice calling out for you. "Mommy" he mumbled, his little arms reaching out in search of you.

Tim's heart melted at the sight of his son, his love for both you and Evan swelling within him like a tidal wave. "Shh, buddy," he whispered, his voice soft and soothing as he gently lifted Evan into his arms. "Mommy's right here."

Evan's sleepy eyes widened with delight as he caught sight of you, his face lighting up with joy. With a sleepy grin, he reached out towards you, his tiny fingers curling around your hand as Tim helped him to gently crawl onto the bed beside you.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your son, his presence bringing a sense of warmth and comfort that washed over you like a gentle wave. With Tim's steady hand guiding him, Evan nestled against your side, his sleepy gaze meeting yours with an expression of pure adoration.

"Love you, Mommy," Evan murmured, his voice filled with sleepy affection as he snuggled closer to you.

"I love you more, sweetheart," you whispered in reply as you pressed a tender kiss to Evan's forehead.

Tim's eyes glistened as he looked down at the two of you. With a tender smile, he leaned in to press a kiss to both your foreheads, his touch a silent affirmation of his love for you both.

"I love you both," Tim whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held you and Evan close, "More than anything in this world."

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.

Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.

If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)

Reblog to support content creators!

Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.

 Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way. 

So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around. 

Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you. 

You, who believed in Charlie’s work.

You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.

You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it. 

He lost the ability to feel anything years ago. 

Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others. 

You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much. 

In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner.  They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk. 

When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess. 

Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do. 

Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day. 

When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out. 

He saw you cook  finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish  even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands. 

He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War. 

Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit. 

A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day. 

Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it. 

Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake  whiny bitch. 

As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that. 

And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.

It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong. 

One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel. 

Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them. 

Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore. 

Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no. 

That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a  shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle. 

THUD.

Shnk.

THUD.

C-crack.

THUD.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!” 

“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other. 

He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army.  When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck. 

He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply. 

Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around  scratching, kicking,  and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.

The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off  him and inhaling deep gulps of  precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands. 

“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting. 

Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right. 

“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?” 

“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed  your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain’t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character. 

You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked. 

“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”

“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.

“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.

“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”

“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”

“Yes.”

“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”

“Yes.”

“Food for plants.”

“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones. 

Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin. 

“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?” 

Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?

You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of them, they made quick work with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts. 

You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a  block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too. 

Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass. 

Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it. 

Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards. 

They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.

You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. 

“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone. 

“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest. 

“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.” 

Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right.  “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering. 

He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse. 

Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck. 

He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”

Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit. 

You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”

Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw  before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.

“What-”

“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there? 

So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below,  your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.

You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places. 

It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination. 

Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his. 

He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.” 

A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”

You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.

“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”

You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”

“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special. 

You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight. 

“It’s done.”

“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”

You faltered. “But -”

“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.

Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking. 

But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight. 

As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms. 

“Husk?”

“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass. 

“Thank you…for everything.”

His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome." 

He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory? 

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens. 

What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter. 

Taglist: @riddle-simp @kanroji-san @star-fawn21 @luthefriendlywitch @kameyo-kumo @solesurvivorjen @solandis-does-stuff @ladydoe8 @victheauthor @anielly-2010 @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @bones4thecats @mmelionsblog @frompeach @nixie-writes @tired-of-life-86 @trecllllllll @lanxianschoenheit @22carolina08 @justamegafan @the-cat-queen-peasants @oucx @diamondzoey @alyriaschoenheit @lbcreations-blog @alastorsart @nunezs-stuff @sillypenguincats @theunknowntravel3r @imperfectbloodmoon @no1sillybilly @likesugarandcyanide @bladeismine @bones4thecats

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

could you maybe do a part two of the reader getting pregnant and kicked out.? Like they have the baby and her parents try seeing the baby but reader doesn’t want them to so rafe protects her and the baby ?

sorry if it’s a lot to ask for 😭

you hurt me pretty good too pt 2

pairing(s): bf!dad!rafe x gf!mom!fem!reader

warnings: toxic parents, pet names, protective rafe

summary: after finally getting settled in, your parents try to barge their way back into your life.

authors note: thank you for the request!! i loved writing the first part so i had fun writing this part two :))

part zero | part one | part two

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“i just put lily down for a nap incase you wanted to take one yourself. i can make some food in the meantime,” rafe suggested with a gentle kiss to your forehead as he walked passed.

it had been a long couple of months. since getting kicked out, ward and rose had helped you both to buy a house of your own, you’d had your daughter which you and rafe decided to name lily, and you’d began dating officially.

“thank you, baby,” you replied before walking over to the couch and flopping down onto it. you grabbed the remote and began flipping through netflix for some movies to watch. “hey, you know my mom called me the other day?”

he stopped his shuffling through the pantry and poked his head out to look at you. “what’d she want?”

“she asked a ton of questions about the baby since obviously she didn’t come to any of the parties beforehand. and all of a sudden she cares to be in her life,” you said sourly. “i didn’t tell her anything.”

he rolled his eyes and continued looking for something to cook. “good. they’re assholes. lily doesn’t need ‘em in her life.”

you smiled to yourself and clicked on a movie, tucking yourself under a blanket and getting comfortable. you heard the stove turn on and settle on a setting before something was being poured into what she assumed was a pot of water.

pasta.

rafe knew it was your favorite. you began to smile even harder, barely even focusing on the movie now.

you felt his weight by your feet just before he was grabbing your legs and tossing them over his lap so you weren’t cuddled up in a ball.

interrupting your quiet time, a loud knock sounded through the house. rafe immediately prepared to stand, to which you urged him back down. “i got it, babe. rest for a little. you’ve been running around all day.” you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before rushing to the front door and opening it.

you began wishing you never had when you caught sight of your parents standing on your doorstep with a woven basket full of stuff inside in your mothers hands. “hi, honey,” she greeted cheerfully. “we were wondering if we could see the baby?”

you scoffed and laughed. “no?”

“what?” she asked in disbelief. “we—we drove all this way though just to see her.”

“i didn’t ask you to though,” you replied. “how’d you even find my address?”

your father rolled his eyes. “are you serious? we drove a long way here and brought a gift just for you to deny us our right to see our grandchild?”

“what right do you have?” you asked genuinely. “you kicked me to the curb and made it very clear you wanted nothing to do with me or my child over these last few months. and now what? you suddenly wanna involve yourselves in our lives?”

“we deserve to see her,” your mother argued.

you heard rafe get up and before you knew it, he was at your side, face to face with your parents. “you don’t deserve shit.”

your mother gasped while your father looked taken back. “excuse you? watch who you’re talking to, son.”

“you abandoned her and supported us in no way. you have zero rights or claims on our child,” he stated. “and not to mention, this is our home and our property, which you are trespassing on and possibly endangering our child. i could call the police right now and—“

“no!” your mother said quickly. “that won’t be necessary. we just want to meet our grandchild.”

rafe laughed and raised his eyebrows. “you never wanted anything to do with our family before, so you both can fuck off,” he replied with a sarcastic grin before slamming the door in their faces.

he turned to you and scanned over your features. “you okay, my love?”

you nodded and smiled at his protectiveness. “yeah.”

“you don’t need them,” he reassured. “you’re doing the right thing. and you’re doing an amazing job with lily.”

you loosely wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into him slightly. “thank you. and you,” you paused and kissed his lips softly. “are doing the best that i could ever imagine.”

“fuck ‘em, right?” he smiled against your lips.

you nodded and chuckled. “fuck ‘em.”