#This piece is called “lets get you home”

[rafecameroninterlude]

can i request a [🍪] chocolate chip cookie, for “bed chem” by sabrina carpenter

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦

pairing: soft!dom!rafe x kook!sweetheart!reader

summary: ❝how you talk so sweet when you’re doing bad things. that’s bed chem.❞ — rafe loves coming home to his girl.

warnings: sooo much dirty talk, lots of praise, grinding (?), unprotected sex, brief mention of reader having a size kink, multiple orgasms, love biting, yk rafe has to talk you through it ;)

word count: 1.0k

a/n: me realizing this is the first explicit piece i write with rafe and kook!sweetheart!reader :0 feel free to participate in this little poll if you want to!

“fuck, just look at you..” rafe had you laid out on your bed, his lips whispering sweet nothings against your skin. “so fucking beautiful, ‘always ready for me to take you when i get home.” he ran his large hands up your bare thighs, his cock stirring in his briefs. you took your bottom lip between your teeth, his rough palms a stark contrast to your soft flesh. “this is all i think about when we’re apart.” you gasped when he spread your legs open, his eyes darkening at the sight of your glossy folds. “you’re already wet just thinking about it, huh?” you nodded, meeting his lust filled gaze.

“you’re so passive with me, baby, i love that. ‘love when i walk in here and you give me those ‘fuck me’ eyes.” he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your jaw as his hand trailed down to where you needed him most. you couldn’t help the moan slipping past your lips when the pads of his fingers found your needy clit, all of his attention zeroing in on the way you melted into his touch. “coming home to you like this.. fuck this is all i’ll ever need.” you swore you could cum from his words alone. cupping his face, you pulled him down to meet your lips. like always, he tasted like a little bit of liquor with a hint of mint.

“please, rafe..” you weren’t exactly sure what you were begging for, but since rafe always called the shots, you let him decide where this was going to go. you watched as he took himself out of his boxers, a shaky breath emitting from your mouth. you could never get used to the mere sight of him, the size difference of you two making butterflies erupt in your tummy every single time. rafe laid down, pulling you on top of him as his cock sprang up against his stomach. “grind on me, pretty girl, you know how i like it.” his hands rested in the curves of your hips as you dragged your soaked cunt up and down the underside of his length.

rafe groaned, his head falling back against your pillows as your sensitive bundle of nerves glided on top of his cock with ease. “shit,” he said through gritted teeth, “you’re doing so good for me, doll face.” you whimpered, feeling empty while fighting the urge to sink onto him. “wanna feel you inside me, ray..” your nails dug into the skin of his toned chest, your boyfriend’s mouth falling open in a silent moan. “not yet, baby, let’s go slow, ‘promise i’ll be fucking you into oblivion very soon.” your cheeks heated, muttering a pathetic ‘okay..’ before continuing your ministrations.

rafe was in absolute awe watching the way you moved on top of him, those little sounds falling from your swollen lips as you panted and whined from not being filled up. you jolted with every swipe of your clit against the head of his cock. rafe knew how sensitive you were, how it never took much to have you making a mess on him in no time. that fact turned him on more than anything else he could think of. adjusting the grip he had on your hips, you let out a yelp when he started dragging you up and down his cock himself. “i want that pussy greedy and sucking me in when i flip you over.”

you shuddered, feeling the familiar heat start to boil until rafe brought it to the surface. rafe thought you looked the prettiest when you were cumming, your expression ingrained in his brain forever. “oh, my g- fuck, rafe!” he knew it was good when you cursed out loud, your body trembling and shaking as your high washed over you. rafe pulled you into his chest, peppering your face with kisses until you were nothing but jelly in his arms. without giving you any time to recover, rafe pushed your face into the pillows, snaking an arm underneath your waist before thrusting into you without warning.

thankfully your scream was muffled, your fingers digging into the sheets for dear life. rafe’s skin was flushed to your own, the weight of him on your back making you mewl. “so fucking tight, holy shit.” he kissed the spot behind your ear, his arms enveloping yours. you intertwined your fingers with his as he thrusted into you, stretching you so deliciously. you moaned, the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix made you clench around him. arching into his thrusts, he rested his head in the curve of your neck. “you’re so fucking perfect, ‘taking it so good.” rafe bit your earlobe, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

you nearly lost it when he angled his hips, the thick head of his cock hitting the spot inside of you that made you see stars. “oh!” you gasped, your face contorting into one of pleasure. “i know baby, fuckin’ hell, i know.” he shuddered, feeling the start of his peak forming in his stomach. “gonna fill you up, ‘make you take every last drop..” he pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades before sitting up on his knees. adjusting your position so your ass was in the air, you lost all ability to form a single thought when he took your hands behind your back and plowed into you until you were crying out, begging for him to never stop.

when the band snapped, and rafe fell over the edge, he cursed against your skin, holding you still as your own orgasm hit you at the same time. he painted your walls with his cum, his hands never leaving yours. you loved squeezing around him, taking him for everything he had while his breath fanned against your skin. he stayed nestled inside you for a few minutes before pulling out with a hiss. you laid limp, your boyfriend pulling you close as he stroked the side of your face. wiping the stray tears from your cheeks, rafe admired your post-sex afterglow. “what are you thinking about?” he hummed, snapping you out of your daze.

“how you talk so sweet when you’re doing bad things.”

[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter eighteen — bedazzled eulogy (🎂)

The steps to the house were pretty worn out. You needed to get them fixed soon.

Your eyes fixed on that same towering oak tree that loomed beyond your home. The same branches with a more withered complexion this time, a backdrop to the countless moments you shared with your family. Even though everyone else was gone, the echo of the history stayed there. Though maybe not for much longer, anyway.

It was just a reminder to you. Maybe you didn't want to think much at all about your decisions, but considering you were getting notes from the city on suggestion to have the tree cut down for safety purposes, you were considering it. Despite how peaceful you used to feel when the leaves were whispering candidly in the wind, you couldn't hear them anyway. You were too lost in the sound of your own head screaming from the news, fighting your tears burning in your eyes.

You didn't find the tapes to work anymore. You sat there rewatching them, rewatching him in his state. A permanent staple that would stay in the tape as long as you played it. It was one of the only safe fixes you knew other than the letter, but neither were solving your aches. None of them were getting rid of what was already done.

The sky remained heavy in its thick storm forbidding the city. You thought it was pretty ironic even if it was scheduled today. Without warning, the heavens poured down quickly. You couldn't even find the chance to think about something else without the cold water soaking your clothes almost instantly, sticking to your skin. Even in this predicament, you sat still. Staying drenched and staring at the tree, glazed over eyes roaring an admonitory reminder.

You didn't know how long you were there for. Minutes, or hours, it made no difference to you. All of what you went through in order to ensure your brother was safely home for years and years, all admonished with a single phone call. It was interesting to you how bad you kept yourself in delusion. Thinking heavily that he was alive, keeping others in a lie with you that he was just away.

Your mind buzzed at a higher intensity, body sluggish but finally moving from its spot as you started mindlessly moving. You didn't think about where you were going, soaking wet and shoes mildly squelching as you wandered.

Finding yourself in front of Beidou's door yet again, except this time, the pain seethed harder. Knowing this was the same house you retrieved a piece of your brother. It wasn't mature to admit, but you were hesitant. With only a loud head of your regrets, there stood Beidou as she swung open the door. Her face shifted from confusion to alarm when she noticed your exterior.

"Why are you out here? You didn't even call...?" Beidou began, but stammered as the words fizzled on her tongue at the look in your eyes. Something was awry, something terrible.

For a moment, you stood there not knowing what to say, not even trying to find strength to look into the other's eyes. "They said it was asphyxiation."

Your voice was in a harsh whisper, hardly deciphered in the rain, but Beidou knew what you said. For a moment, she didn’t even react either. She stood there processing, hand still on the doorknob as what you said ruminated between them. The storm went quiet between the two of them, and the brunette’s disbelief broke through.

“No shit…they actually found him.” Beidou responded in disbelief, brows furrowed. Her face contorted in shock as she looked down. She stepped aside slowly, ushering you inside. “C..Come inside, alright? I can’t let you freeze.”

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

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[ghouldtime]

Neighbor! König

Probably can't write a full series for this but for now HEADCANNONS

He initially moved to a residential/suburban area because of his need for privacy. He couldn't stand being in barracks provided because it's too close for comfort and there's just too many people and not enough room

He grew up in a rural village which he would really, greatly prefer but his job doesn't allow him to have that amount of space and no neighbors. The upkeep would be too much

While he doesn't have the full amount of space he'd like, it's enough to keep him busy when he's not deployed and grant him the piece of mind he needs

When he's home and in his 'residential/domestic' mode, he's not wearing the mask. That's a quick way to signal him out and lets be real, it sets off red flags. He'd rather not have the police called on what looks like a very suspicious man, thanks.

Not wearing the mask is also a good way for him to come off of 'work' mode, where he can just be himself, no covering that up.

Plus it's for safety. He knows he's taking a risk by living off of base and he's a man with many enemies. Wearing something trademarked to him in an unprepared environment is a dumb idea and is a great way to end up six feet under

His front yard is pretty minimal but he has a lovely garden in the back. Half the reason he settled on the house that he did was because of the mature trees in the backyard that reminded him of home

When you moved in, König - as much as he didn't want to, made the move to introduce himself. The main motivator wasn't out of politeness but rather necessity. Since he's away for so long, he gives out his personal number and email just in case something happens with the house

He's genuinely surprised when you react positively and even ask if there's anything he'd like you to do when he's away (like collecting his mail, watering any plants)

He's so stumped by that, not having expected such hospitality, that when you ask for his name as you enter in his contact info, his brain short circuits. He tells you it's Kevin, because it's the first K name he could think of that wasn't distinctly Germanic.

Also he doesn't want to bring anyone into his work life. He moved out into the suburbs for a reason. König is who he is on field, that's his callsign. And, once again - safety reasons. If he went around, telling people who he was, he's asking to get another target painted on his back

Though you two initially don't really talk much, you still wave when you see him or wish him a good morning. Even if he's blunt and usually brusque, you never mind it and always try to make polite conversation while respecting his boundaries and need for space

Seeing each other in the mornings becomes routine. You're up for work while he's up tending to his garden (it's better to water early morning, he insists)

He's slow to warm up but when he finally does, he's surprisingly talkative

He really opened up to you because you showed express interest in his garden and flowers alike. You always listened to his advice or would ask specific questions to get him talking and when it came to explaining things, he could talk and talk and talk

The moment he was won over though was when you asked if he'd like help weeding his garden. Taking care of it was therapeutic to him (as tedious as it might be) and wanting to actually come over and spend time with him, even if it was a "chore" made him feel something that day

Being allowed into his yard, his botanical sanctuary, is as great of an award as you can get

He finds it significantly easier to talk when his hands are busy and when there can always be things to talk about (mainly his plants, he's so proud)

You learn of his plants, the fact that he's a private contractor (he conveniently leaves out the military part), and he'll start to actually talk about himself instead of avoiding questions for once

If it weren't from exertion reddening his face already, he's sure he would've turned as red as his tomatoes when you inquired about the off handed comment about his miniatures collection

No one had ever asked him about them - or actually taken them seriously. He's used to people making fun of such hobbies

But not you, you embraced him

Seeing your face light up with amazement and hearing your specific comments about the details he made in replicas of things such as his hometown and some of the fairytale stories he liked as a kid officially had his heart feeling the warm, fuzzy feelings that he usually ignored

The next morning, he was already planting your favorite flowers in his front yard 🪻

(Part Two)

[frogs00]

Hello:) can I request Regina or Janis x reader angst fic?

Reader avoids their partner because they’re struggling with stress from schoolwork or home stuff etc and uses restriction to cope. But partner finds out and confront reader so reader hesitantly admits it to their partner and they try to help

Tears

Summary: The request but worse

Warnings: Child/Domestic abuse, reader's home life sucks, Regina and Reader have daddy issues, depressing thought, alcohol abuse. Reader's discretion is advised. (Let me know if I missed anything)

Pairing: Regina George x reader

"Call you on the phone, you just tell me not to go. Baby, I don't want to be alone anymore."

"What the hell is wrong with you? " Your father screamed in your ear, right in your ear, waving the piece of paper in your face, "A 'C+'? On a math test? You're pathetic, if you don't get your grades up you'll fucking regret it.”

He shoved the paper back into your arms, and you held it to your chest with shaking hands, worried about what he might mean. It wouldn’t be the first time he had threatened you. Tears dripped onto the paper and you squinted your eyes shut, trying to blink your vision into focus.

You looked up after a moment and his hand was raised, and the next thing you knew the back of his hand connected with your face.

—

Your weekend was filled with studying. You always struggled with focus and motivation, but he threatened you. Threatened to take away the only thing keeping you here. Eyes never leaving the textbook, writing notes till your hand cramped, you ground your teeth. You were drained, so drained.

Bags had formed under your eyes, and you'd hardly eaten. You dreaded Monday. You didn’t want to face anyone, and why would you? Why would they want to face you back?

It was an awakening of the rudest sort, realizing that in the end, the only person that you have is yourself. You’ve been hearing this phrase all of my life, and sure you had Regina and you had your friends. But that all just had to be temporary? Because why would Regina George want a fuck up like you?

What was the permanent? The facts.

The fact that you weren’t worthy. The statistics didn’t lie, and your last test said you were nothing but average. You tried so hard on that test, and yet you still scored average. And did you hate it? Yes, with every fiber in your being. Who wouldn’t hate the feeling? The way your father treated you and how your mother did nothing to stop it. You couldn’t blame her, he scared you, and hurt you to the point you felt unsafe in your room.

But you had to push through if you wanted to accomplish your goals, your dreams, that aching need to escape the house you were raised in.

Snap goes the pencil in your hand, you hadn’t even realized how tightly you had been holding it. You let go of it with a shaky hand, and the splintered piece of wood and graphite fell on the desk. Tears stained your cheek and you let your face fall into your hand.

But, oh god, was It getting to a point where you had to ask yourself if the dream had become a nightmare.

—

Monday had arrived, you were tired, so fucking tired. Still, you had to try and make that less obvious. How did you do that? Avoid. You had practically mastered the art of ducking and dodging people around you, and it’s not like you felt they’d miss you.

Or maybe you had just gaslighted yourself into thinking that because it scared you to be loved and cared for. You couldn’t handle that… it was too much. It was all too much.

You walked the hall with your eyes downcast, backpack slung rather uncomfortably on your shoulder. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want your girlfriend, lying if you said your head wasn’t pounding, and lying if anyone bothered to ask if you were okay. Sucks to suck I guess.

You had been lost in thought as you turned the corner, bumping into someone. Thankfully, or maybe so so thankfully, it was Cady, “Sorry- Oh, it’s you! Hey, y/n, I’ve hardly heard from you all day,” she laughed then proceeded to eye you skeptically, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” You responded, putting on your best fake smile. It seemed to fool her, at least a little, because she asked if you were sure, when you nodded she then bid you goodbye and skipped away. She was always so happy, it almost made you jealous.

So I guess I’m a liar now. You thought as you darted into your class. You sat down in your seat and fought the urge to nod off, it was almost comical the fact that you already knew everything this particular teacher was talking about, at least the studying paid off, even if you were facing major burnout.

Class dragged on— Honestly, everything did; From how you pulled yourself out of your chair— to how you dragged yourself through the halls. Life was a drag.

Before you knew it, the day passed in a blur, and you were on your walk home.

—

The next day wasn’t that much different from the last. A foggy haze of numbness and meaningless conversations.

Well, mostly meaningless. During the passing period, your last one of the day, you were switching out your book from your locker when your girlfriend approached you.

“Y/n…” Regina's voice was a whisper, your throat clenched. She sounded worried. You hated that she sounded worried, because if Regina George was worried about you, then that meant you couldn’t wallow in that self-pity you made your home.

“Yeah?” You asked after clearing your throat, you didn’t force a smile though. She’d tell it was fake.

“I’m worried about you, you’re quiet. Did I like…do something? Or some shit.” She asked, her tone growing a bit irritated as she reached the last part, but that was just how she was. You knew it still came from a place of worry, in fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if that irritation was aimed towards herself. Just because you knew that didn’t mean it felt like it.

“No, Regina, you didn’t. I’m fine, just tired.” You shook your head, avoiding her gaze as you shut your locker. Lies, lies, and more lies. Well, you were tired, but that wasn’t just it. You and her both knew that.

“Baby, come on. Tell me what’s wrong,” Regina coaxed, her tone increasing as she spoke, making her sound angry. She was anxious, though, you could tell. Neither of you was great with emotions.

“Stop. I said I’m fine, leave it alone,” You snapped, turning your back on her, “You’re so pushy, god.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a fan of watching the ones closest to me drift away!” She snapped right back, just like you knew she would. The perfect excuse to walk away… or retort her.

“I’m not your dad, Regina. I have a couple of bad days doesn’t mean I’m going to up and leave, okay? So stop acting like this is the end of the world.” You seethed, grinding your teeth. You glanced at her just in time to see her flinch, a wave of nausea and guilt washed over you.

“Wow.” Regina scoffed, collecting herself, “That was so unnecessary. I was just worried, and you…” She shook her head, you should see her tense, the ways she drew in a breath. She was trying.

You turned around to fully meet her gaze, and you could feel your eyes watering, “I’m sorry, I am,” You whispered, her face softened a bit, “I…I’m just stressed, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” Regina agreed, “It’s fine, I get it, or whatever.” You both stood there for a while, just staring at one another.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated.

“I know.” More silence followed, til she said, “Do you need a hug?” you smiled a bit, the first time in a while. You nodded softly and she wrapped her arms around you. You breathed in deeply, her vanilla and coconut shampoo soothed your mind if only for a moment. Maybe you’d find the strength to talk to her, but not now, you just let yourself be held and pushed through.

You both pulled away when the warning bell rang, and you left it at that.

—

You were home, or you were at your house. This place didn’t feel like home, not at all, not ever.

You were unpleasantly surprised to find your father sitting on the porch, beer in hand and lead tilted back. He was drunk, you could tell just from the sight of him, and it made your stomach churn. He could be so violent when drunk. You swallowed your fear and clutched the strap of your backpack, slowly approaching.

A silent caution always lingered when you interacted with him, always. That was unchanging even as he stopped you.

“Why are you home so late?” He slurred, glowering at you then pushing himself off the wooden chair he spent most of his day.

“I had to walk, Dad, the bus doesn’t run that way on Mondays,” You explained calmly, and he nodded. Your gaze flickered around and you noted that your little sister's shoes weren’t on the shoe rack, “Where is Ashley?”

His expression turned sour, “She’s at some friend's house, on a school night. A load of bullshit! Me and your mom got into it because of her, because of you dumb ass kids,” he growled, “Why do you care, anyways, huh?” He took a step towards you, and the acrid smell of both alcohol and cigarettes hit your nose, you grimaced.

“She’s my sister, of course, I care-” You started but cut off as you watched his irritation grow. You could see it in his body language, hands curling into fists.

“God, you kids are so fucking useless! You should be studying, you hear me? The least a mistake like you could do.” he grabbed your shirt and tugged you towards him, and your heart pounded.

His voice was heavily slurred and his eyes were wide and wild, breath hot on your face. You couldn’t take it, you couldn’t do this another day, and pushed him off of you then sprinted the other way.

He trampled after you to the edge of the yard, but he didn’t give chase, too intoxicated and not caring enough.

You were so tired of running, what exactly were you running to? You’re tired, tired of all this escaping. It reminds you of that part in all the horror movies, the ones where the characters are running for their lives. Because ‘It’s all so beautiful’ or ‘lf is worth living’, and shit. Well, maybe it was to them. But, god, was it a whole lot of hell for you right now.

Two blocks down, you stopped, panting. You sat down on the curb and placed your head in your hands. You pulled out your phone, lucky it wasn’t dead.

You called Regina. I mean who else would you call?

After two rings she answered, “Regina?”

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Not really,” you admitted, feeling those tears you’ve been holding back slip from the corners of your eyes, “Can you pick me up? My dad…” you trailed off, voice shaking.

“Your dad? Yeah, I’ve heard enough. I’m on my way,” you heard rustling over the phone, a jingle of keys, then her voice asking, “Where are you?”

“I’ll drop a pin,” you looked over your head, grey clouds were rolling in, and you just hoped it didn’t start raining before she got here, “thank you.”

“Of course.” she softly said into the phone, then hung up.

You sat there by yourself, a wind chilling you to the bones. You didn’t like the wind, never had. It flushed your face and made your hair a mess, but you liked the smell it brought in, the damp smell of leaves and coming rainfall, it was all so refreshing in a way you couldn’t place. You wish you could appreciate it more, but that was hard with tears rolling down your cheek still, adding to the icy feeling.

You wiped the tears away with the sleeve of your sweater, staring at the pavement. You hardly registered Regina’s mom's car pulling up, but you did register the footsteps approaching, lifting your head.

“Baby, oh god, are you okay?” She gasped out the question, looking you over and pulling you to your feet. You felt something wet hit your head and you looked up, not answering her question.

It was raining.

“Baby?” She repeated a concerned expression on her face.

“Yes, sorry. I’m okay. He didn’t hit me…right now at least.” You and she pulled you into a hug and then towards the car, she must not have brought the Jeep because she actually checked the weather.

You both got into the car quickly. You closed your eyes, she didn’t ask any more questions. She knew better than to ask right away, it was better to let you settle in. You leaned against the cold window of the car, your breath foging the glass, watching the downpour and the water streaking down the glass.

You liked the rain, you did. You liked the way it filled the world with white noise, it was soothing. You liked to run around in it with your arm spread out and head pointed at the sky. You enjoyed the things that came with the rain too. You like gray and wet and rhythmically noisy, you liked hiding under cozy blankets.

You were so lost in your thoughts, that when you felt a warm hand brush yours, you flinched. You turned your head, looking at Regina who was staring at you curiously. You intertwine your and the blonde's fingers together wordlessly.

“You’re cold, feel okay?” She asked and you nodded, you didn’t want to talk. You turned to stare at the red light that shined through the gloom.

You glanced back at her, she was still staring so you asked, “What?”

“Nothing, you always just look so thoughtful, I guess.” She shrugged, then stepped on the gas.

Sooner than later you two arrived at her house, you both were quiet when you two got back, Regina went straight to the kitchen and you sat down on the couch inhaling and exhaling slowly. Minutes late she returned with two mugs of hot chocolate. You gave her a tired, grateful smile. She smiled back.

You both sipped at your drinks quietly, it wasn’t awkward necessarily but you could tell she was itching to ask questions, so you turned to her.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For this, I know I’m a mess. My dad is a huge ass and it’s physically and mentally killing me,” You trailed off, swallowing thickly, “Still, I feel like It’s all my fault, I don’t know why I do this. I’m not used to this, to being loved. It’s hard to accept; it scares me so badly. It terrifies me and I run away.” It was easier that way, but you didn’t say that.

Regina sighed, setting down her mug then grabbing and clutching your hand, “It’s okay, I know. Dads can be pretty shitty. Yours is, mine is. But it’s not your fault. It isn’t, y/n,” she shook her head, “Avoiding others isn’t helping, though. I get it, trust me, I’m the queen of avoiding my problems. Hell! I avoided the truth I was gay for years, but I’m trying. We both are.”

You started crying again, it was hard to hold it in, “Thank you…” you breathed, “I don’t deserve you-”

Regina smiled a bit, “Don’t say that, it’s bullshit,” she rolled her eyes, then softened, “You have people in your corner, okay? You don’t have to do everything alone. We can both work on that.” She pulled you into a hug, you cried softly into her. Damn, did it feel good to get out, to be held.

You both remained like that for a while till she asked you if you wanted to shower, you agreed pretty quickly considering it was still pouring. You took a shower together.

You got comfortable at Regina’s side, rubbing circles in her lower back, “Your back okay? I know it can get achy when it rains.” you whispered, gazing into her blue eyes.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Regina shrugged, then yawned, “I kind of like the rain, actually. Not getting wet though, that’s disgusting.” she mused but didn’t elaborate further.

You let out a soft laugh at the sour face she made, Regina hated getting wet, unlike you, “Me too.” You smiled. You both lay in each other's arms, listening to the rain and wishing it would stay longer. The sound seemed to drown out all of your problems, or maybe just laying beside her made it all fade away.

A/N: Kinda proud of this one even though it took me forever

[starryevermore]

my friends call me a loser (dumb love 2) ✧ ruhn danaan

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: ruhn danaan x fem!reader 

summary: ruhn wanted forever with you, but he got in his head and fucked it all up. 

word count: 1,882

warnings?: angst city bitch, not proofread

PART ONE

Ruhn Danaan was, in a word, a massive fucking idiot, and Bryce had made it her mission to never let him forget it. 

“What the hell do you mean that you said it was casual between you two?!” she shouted when she found out. Ruhn had holed himself up in his room, blowing through his supply of mirthroot in a vain attempt to dull the pain. But Bryce wasn’t going to let him be miserable without giving him a piece of her mind. “She fucking adored you, and I thought you did too! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

All Ruhn could manage was another long drag of his joint. Bryce snatched it out of his hands and set it in the ashtray on his nightstand. The most Ruhn could manage for a reaction was a groan and a half-assed attempt to snatch it back from her. 

“Seriously Ruhn, what the fuck!?”

He shrugged. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he did it. All Ruhn had to say was “fuck off” or, even better, that he truly liked you and he was fucking terrified of that, but all he could think to say was that it meant nothing even when it meant everything. Worse, he tried to prove to himself that he wasn’t emotionally attached to you. 

It failed miserably, if anyone was wondering. When he sauntered up to the faun across the bar, all of his usual lines lacked any luster. They didn’t feel right when it wasn’t you he was saying them to. And when the faun suggested they go to her place, Ruhn was already searching for any way to get out of it. He was relieved when he saw Bryce and Hunt making their way to the bar, and he excused himself with hardly a word to the faun. 

Ruhn had been delighted to hear that Bryce and Hunt had ran into you, and for Declan to confirm he saw you. He was ready to go find you, to finally have a nice evening. When Hunt said that you were actually on your way out, Ruhn couldn’t help but feel disappointed. And then a worse thought struck him—what if you had seen him with the faun? No, surely not. You weren’t the most confrontational person he knew, but you weren’t the type of person to stand for that sort of disrespect. If you had seen him, you would have said something. Besides, Bryce didn’t say anything that would indicate you were upset. Declan was oddly silent, but he also didn’t speak to you. Everything was fine. He hoped. 

Yet when he went home, earlier than everyone else because he was most certainly not having a good time, he was surprised to find his room noticeably empty of anything belonging to you. The only thing that remained was your faintly fresh scent—like you had just been there. When he asked Flynn, he wanted to wring his friend’s neck for letting you walk off like that. Yes, you had seemed fine. Yes, you had been joking around with him. But no one, no one, ever just packed up all of their stuff and everything be a-okay. 

Ruhn didn’t want to think about how many traffic violations he committed as he sped over to your apartment. All that he could focus on was seeing you, on hearing your voice, on making sure everything was still good. He never felt like a bigger idiot than when you forced him out, told him to lose your number, and cried on the other side of the door. Ruhn wasn’t sure how long he stood there, waiting for you to come out and say this was all a big joke or something, but he was gone before the sun came up. 

Bryce’s hand balled up into a fist. “Fucking say something!” she snapped. 

He wished she would just hit him and get it over with. 

“Told you he’s like a ghost,” Declan said from the door, leaning against the threshold, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Let him fucking rot,” Bryce said and stormed out. Declan followed, shutting the door behind him. 

Ruhn picked the joint back up, shut his eyes, and pretended that you were lying beside him still. 

Ruhn stood outside of the bookstore you worked at. He had no reason to be there. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever picked up a book. But you were inside, and he needed to see you just once. Needed to know that you were okay. Or, at least, as okay as you could be. Besides, it was almost the end of your shift, and someone should make sure you got home safe. 

He hadn’t been around the store much before. Only really knew where it was because he picked you up there once before taking you to dinner with Bryce and Hunt. A double date, Bryce had insisted on it. She wanted to know what poor sucker had him so smitten. When Ruhn saw how well you meshed in with his life, it made him want to run for the hills and it made him want to ask you to marry him on the spot. You made his head spin. Ruhn was never sure how to make heads or tails of anything when you were involved. 

And then you were coming around more often. You met Declan and Flynn. You went to their parties, outdrank all of them with ridiculous ease. It felt like you were always meant to be there. Like there was a hole in his life that he hadn’t realized existed until you were making him feel whole again. 

Maybe that was what scared him. Ruhn wasn’t used to this kind of unfiltered, pure love. He never had a real relationship before. Any he had before were for the sole purpose of pissing his father off. He never cared about them, not really. But you? You made him feel the warm fuzzies the people in those shitty romance novels feel. When a person is unused to that sort of thing, it’s easy to feel ill about it. It was even easier to ruin it all before he got hurt. 

He watched you through the window, chatting with a customer. You’ve been talking to them a while, actually. They’re a shifter he’s seen around before. Ruhn doesn’t know much, but he doesn’t like the way they’re leaning in across the counter, laughing at everything you say. What do they know about your jokes? They probably don’t even understand the jokes. What a fucking poser. 

But then you’re touching their arm as you walk around the counter. They’re helping you with closing the store. Their hand is on the small of your back as you twist the key in the lock. Ruhn felt sick as you climbed in their car and sped down the road.

He vomited in a nearby trash can. He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth and stumbled to the White Raven. Ordered shot after shot after shot, trying to burn that image out of his mind. 

The bartender had to call Declan and Flynn to get him out. 

It was months before Ruhn was able to not drink himself half to death—which, for a fae, is an alarming amount of alcohol. He should count himself lucky that fae have higher healing abilities, or else his poor liver would be wrecked beyond repair. Hel, he would probably still be at home if it weren’t for everyone giving him shit for it. Let him rot, they said, but when he tried, it was suddenly a fucking problem.  It was well-meaning, he thinks, but still. It’s the principal of the thing. 

Still, he frequented the White Raven somehow more than he ever did before. Sometimes he would catch glimpses of you with that stupid shifter. Sometimes he would drink just enough that he could delude himself into thinking you were sitting beside him, tracing your fingernail along the swirls of his tattoos, head leaned against his shoulder. One of his friends would drag him away before he could fall too deep into the fantasy. 

None of them were here tonight, though. So there was no one to stop him from ordering more shots than he should as he watched you dance with that damned shifter. 

Ruhn would never wish you unhappiness, but…Was it a bad thing to wish that you didn’t move on so fast? An uncomfortable feeling settled in his gut. What right did he have to be upset? The only reason you were with that shifter was because he fucked everything up. If Ruhn had just kept his godsdamned mouth shut, it could have been him you were dancing with right now. But no, he just had to shove his whole foot into his mouth. 

The song ended and faded into another. You pulled away from the shifter, heading in the direction of the restrooms. The shifter slid up to the bar, eying Ruhn, before directing his attention to the bartender and ordered a couple drinks. What an idiot. They couldn’t even order your favorite drink. What did you see in them? 

He had no right to think little of the shifter, though. He gave that up. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing their attention. “Be good to her,” Ruhn said, nodding in the direction you had gone. 

The shifter raised a brow. “You a friend or something?”

“Or something,” Ruhn said. “She has a good heart. Don’t break it.”

They shrugged, taking a long sip of their drink. “Eh, don’t see it getting far enough to break hearts.”

Ruhn’s heart stopped. No. It wasn’t cool when he did it—this asshole was not allowed to do the same thing to you. “Excuse me?”

“It’s nothing serious, you know? Just testing the waters.”

Ruhn’s fist swung before he could stop it. The crack of the shifter’s jaw was satisfying enough that he landed a few more punches in before they started fighting back. Ruhn was knocked into the bar, but he didn’t let that stop him. He charged at the shifter, knocked him to the ground. He blacked out from the rage—only became aware when a couple bouncers pulled him off the shifter and dragged him a few feet away. 

He shook them off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going,” he growled. 

The bouncers followed him as he pushed through the crowd that formed. But he couldn’t stop himself from stomping the heel of his boot on the shifter’s nose as he passed. The bouncers yanked him away again.

“Oops, didn’t see him there.”

As the bouncers dragged him out, he caught a familiar eye in the crowd. You stared at him, eyes wide and jaw open, horrified at the display of violence before you. The bouncers dragged him straight passed you, and he could very nearly hear what you were going to say. An admonishment for fighting in public, a good tongue lashing for fighting your…whatever that shifter was. 

But he beat you to the punch. “You deserve better than that lowlife,” he said. 

You couldn’t let him have the final word. 

“What, like you know what’s good for me?”

And somehow that hurt more than any hit that piece of shit shifter could land on him. 

[karlachismylife]

Don't You Forget About Me

Since @killerpancakeburger already had the most perfect Soap idea with this prompt, I decided to sit and think: what would be the situation where Soap actually didn't wanna kiss? Mission imposible?

Well, I might've found the solution.

CW: reader is Soap's mother (literally), so (potentially bad) Scottish yelling and scolding, very silly and unserious, not even pretending to be realistic.

(Title fom a song by Simple Minds)

You were going to give him a piece of your mind alright. He had always been a troublemaker, the sole source of white and grey peppered in your respectable hairbun, but the bare minumum you expected from your eejit of a son was to take your words seriously when you asked not to go to that mission. That one mission, mind you, out of every crazy and dangerous endeavour your Johnny got up to since before he could walk properly (although he skipped the phase entirely, immediately opting to run) - you always supported him and tried to be understanding.

You flicked his nose when he came home dirty after playing football in the rain and prepared warm dinner while he cleaned himself and washed his own clothes like a good boy. You sighed and ruffled what was left of his hair the day he returned with that moronic haircut, beaming like the sun itself. You slapped upside his head and scolded him before pulling out his favourite out of the oven after he was kicked out from whatever military base he tried to sneak into to be like his cousin.

Johnny could call you strict, scary and warn all his mates of you with a shit-eating grin all he wanted, but you were sure you had never given him a reason to believe you would worry over nothing.

"Dinnae fash yersel, Mam," was all you got after a hearfelt and arguemented plea to stay away from trouble this time, along with a kiss on a cheek, and there he went.

Not so fast, John MacTavish.

Of course he got his stubborness and determination to get whatever he wanted from you. The amount of times he ran off before he was of age just to try his luck and get enlisted? The clenching of his proud Scottish jaw as he pushed himself to do better, lift heavier, shoot sharper, run faster? Once Johnny was set on something, he went all-in. Too bad sitting still and quiet in school never got to be one of his priorities even for a week. But that's how you raised him, and if anyone could match him, it was you.

You were suprised how easy it was to bully and bribe your way into the base. Just an unthreatening older woman with some home-cooked pie, already sliced up for the sweet, sweet boys at the entrance.

Och, yer Ma' usually bakes these too? 'N' wi' some carrot? Ye should ask her fur a recipe, leannan, Ah will lea' ye mines sae we can exchange. Ah actually hae mah laddie right there oan th' base, he's a sergeant, aye, mah muckle laddie. Ah wanted tae surprise him wi' his fave', bit didnae ken tis sae secreteve 'ere… Mibbie ye could pass it tae him? Och but it'll get cauld 'n' nasty… Och, ye will let me in fur a few minutes? Well aren't ye th' sweetest wee jimmies. Yer Mams must be proud o' ye, Ah ken Ah'm, knowing such mighty lads are protecting us.

Breaching the first line of defence was a piece of cake - well, pie. The second went even smoother, no one paying attention to you as you simply floated along the perimeter, avoiding miscellaneous looks from busy officers and privates bustling about their day. Hiding in plane sight, not even trying to blend in - you minced in your old trusty shoes up to the big area with several aircrafts scattered around.

Aha. That's your goal. You adjusted your purse on your shoulder and moved to continue your way, when someone finally noticed your unwanted presence.

"Is that a... who the hell let a civilian in the landing zone? Oi! M'am! M'am, stop! M'am, you're not supposed to be here!"

Hearing someone's heavy steps picking up behind your back, you kept your steady stride for a few more moments, eyes scanning the vast plane of the zone, determined to find at least someone you knew - and they you hit jackpot. Loud thumping of helicopter blades, distant at first, grew rapidly, almost deafening at the point when someone's heavy hand grabbed your elbow.

"M'am, are you lost? It's dangerous here! DAN-GE-ROUS!" The officer yelled into your ear, probably both hoping to overpower the landing helicopter and thinking you were old, frail and deaf.

Such a naive lad.

That metal bird barely stopped chirping before you wriggled out of the officer's grasp and sprinted towards several tall figures unloading from the helo. Your target stood straight, big headphones denting his ruffled mohawk, already up for a trimming. He definitely heard the officer's loud yelling, turned around, curious as ever, and locked eyes with you - all laughter wiped off his face immediately, baby blues he inherited from you round and popping out of their sockets.

"Mam?! Wha' are ye doin'-" - "JOHN MACTAVISH! Dinnae "mam" me, ye reckless bampot! Ah didnae raise ye tae be a sleekit potatoe waving yer own mother off!"

You jumped away from the officer who almost caught up with you and used your purse to shield yourself from him, never losing pale and positively terrified and dumbfounded Johnny out of sight.

"Get awa' from me, ye eejit, that's mah son 'n' Ah'm talking tae him! Look at me, Johnny!" You finally reached him and tilted your stern face up, glaring at yout sheepish son. His eyes stopped darting around and snapped directly at you. Still a good boy, after all. "Dae ye hae any idea how worried Ah was? Come 'ere now or Ah will drag ye by yer scruff, Ah swear. Come 'ere!"

You reached up to cup hus face, noticing a fresh bruise and a split brow, your motherly heart aching, but still proud that your wee boy came back from a dangerous operation alive. With teary eyes, you tried to pull him in for a big forgiving smooch, but he finally unfroze and pulled back, slowly starting to go red in his cheeks - so his ears must have been burning for some time already. Still, you looked at him, outraged, and huffed, propping one hand on your hip.

"What? Ah wanntae kiss mah laddie!" You could see Johnny's face flush brighter, mortified expression cut into his pleading eyebrows. He shouldn't have been doing that, that nasty scar was bleeding hardeer, your poor wee boy.

"''ere?! Richt naew?!" Before you could even start scolding him for denying his own mother such a simple thing, someone else's rich voice cut in through barely suppressed laughter.

"Come on, Johnny, tha's no way to talk to your mother. Be a good boy 'n' give 'er a big kiss." Recognizing Ghost from your laddie's tales wasn't hard at all - you met his dark, hooded eyes and gave him a firm, grateful nod, which he reciprocated with a gruff chuckle.

Defeated, Johnny leaned down, sliding his headphones down to his neck, and didn't even hiss as you yanked him by his ear lower to give him a loud, loving smooch on his cheek.

On the way out they sourced four big lads to escort you. As if the whole army would be able to stop you if you decided to give your son a proper whooping.

[always-elias]

The Magnus Protocol Episodes have a downright uncanny talent to match up with what is happening to me while I listen to them.

Once, I was out on an evening walk, and decided to go a bit off-track. I don't do evening walks often, but the weather was quite nice and I wanted to listen to the new episode. However, it got far too darker in the forest than I'd have expected, so I was feeling rather uneasy. I descended down to the creek, walking by it. Just hoping I don't stumble into any creepy murder-guy. Well. Guess what episode I was listening to? Certainly not the one with the needle-covered creepy murder-guy?

It was quite terrifying, but I was doing well enough and I was intrigued, so I kept listening. However, at the very moment when he started to doxx the call operator, something splashed in that fucking creek. Needles to say (ha! See what I did there?) I got spooked to all hells and back, and to this day I have mixed feelings about the episode.

The other time, I, having learnt from my mistakes, headed on another evening walk. This time, into the city, y'know, where there are lights on and everything is fine. I headed out to explore one part of the town that I don't know well, and only have been there a handful of times before. It was quiet, and completely deserted. But the lamps lit the way, so it was fine. It would be fine, right?

It felt weird. It just felt weird, and I headed into one of the streets. The lamps started to be sparse. One of the houses was shrouded in darkness, and it's fence looked so weird in the dark. There was a strange shape, maybe a shed, leaning on the house. There was a couple of weak, colourful lights on in the garden of that house, and it seemed like they swayed ever so slightly. My dear friends, I was listening to Running On Empty, y'know. The Lonely liminal place episode? With the darkened place, and strange lights surrounding the piece of architecture? I noped the fuck out of that street so fast.

And of course, the most recent case fo this. I live in a country with a lot of public transport, and when you take your local bus several times everyday, you reach a certain level of familiarity with the bus drivers. Some even let me board without showing my ticket, and I have memorised all of their faces and demeanors. We often smalltalk a bit, it's fun, and it's routine. I've been commuting for years, so I can for example recognize the type of the incoming train in the dark, based on shape of the approaching lights alone. I can, also, recognize all of the buses on my line home, even without seeing their actual numbers. I know them. Sometimes a new driver comes on the line, or an old one leaves, and even if they add a new bus, it tends to be of a certain model or general vibe.

One night I was waiting for my bus home, listening to the episode Driven, y'know, with the people-eating coach that looks just similar enough to blend in, if the passersby don't pay close attention?

It was dark, and cold, and there was only like three other people waiting for the bus, which is unusually little.

A new bus came. The ones on this line are white and red, with shiny paint, the corners are smooth and round and sometimes there's ads on the walls, depending on the bus. This one was yellow and blue, the paint matte, and it just looked a bit too blocky compared to the others. The bus driver was also unknown to me.

Boy did I fucking hesitate to get on that one. I did, in the end, and it's probably still me writing these lines.

I'm just so intrigued, this never happened to me with any of the TMA cases... Did anyone have something like this happen to them with any of the statements?

[bullet-prooflove]

Distance: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @eddieslut69 @mia1653 @kimbergoldess

Companion piece to: Attention - Terry hasn't been paying you enough attention

Terry doesn’t realise how much distance there is between the two of you until the night you don’t come home. He’s been inattentive lately, preoccupied by the embezzlement that’s been going on right underneath his nose. He spends his evenings at his office in the city before coming home late and slipping into bed alongside you. He’s gone before you wake up in the morning. It’s been his routine for weeks. You’ve tried reaching out, organising dinner dates, even cooking but you always end up eating alone. You start to spend more time at the gallery because there’s no point in going home if there’s no one there to come home to.

It's past midnight by the time Terry gets back to the house. He’s surprised to find the lights off and the bed empty. He checks the security system only to discover you didn’t arrive back this evening. He calls your cell but it goes immediately to voice mail so he decides to head out to the gallery. He lets himself in with the key you gave him and finds you asleep your office, curled up on the couch. You look so small, so delicate and it’s in that moment he realises just how ignorant he’s been to your needs.

“Come on baby girl.” He whispers, his hand smoothing over your hair as his lips brushes over your forehead. “Let’s get you home to bed.”

You’re silent in the car ride home, your forehead coming to rest on the window as you watch the city roll by outside. He can sense you don’t want to talk, you’re withdrawn, disconnected from him. When you step over the threshold you head directly into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. He hears the shower turn on and he sighs because you’re so far away from him right now and he isn’t sure how to fix it.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed when you enter the room, his hands running through his hair. You don’t acknowledge his presence, instead you sit down at the dressing table, wrapped up in the silk robe he bought you during a trip to Japan and begin to apply your moisturizer.

“Georgia.” He says quietly. “Will you look at me please?”

Your gaze flickers up to meet his in the mirror. Oh he thinks, now you are being a factious little thing. Part of him applauds the attitude because he deserves your ire, the other part is rankled because you aren’t giving him a single inch. He decides the only way to break this impenetrable ice princess facade is to push your buttons and he knows exactly how to do it.

“Sweetheart.” He says cocking his head to one side. “You’re being childish.”

You turn to face him then and the agony in your eyes, it kills him.

“Is there someone else?” You ask him directly. “Is that why you’ve been missing dinners? Not coming home until late?”

It dawns on him then what all this coldness is about. You think that he doesn’t want you anymore, that he doesn’t love you.

“Oh Georgia.” He whispers, shifting from his position on the bed until he’s on his knees in front of you. His fingertips brush a stray strand of damp hair back behind your ear as he looks at you with a tenderness he reserves only for you. “I would never do that to you.”

“You’ve been so distant.” You whisper as his thumb chasing over the blush of your cheek.  “I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

“No baby.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours. “I'll never stop loving you.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[spideyhexx]

have you considered singer billy also lives on a ranch best of both worlds

BUT i’ve had this thought brewing that you’re new in town and your car breaks down and literally the only person you know to call is billy :( and you’re stressed out probably crying because like. your car. broken. and he comes to try and fix it and lets you sit in his truck where it’s nice and warm

YES I imagine he still owns a ranch and all, he just also sings :(

new in town and you know Billy within a week of moving there. Not cause you even sought him out but because the people in town have mentioned him. How he’s the best guy to go to if you need something fixed. If one of your animals got loose, Billy’s the one to call.

And just on good faith, one of the old ladies that mentioned him, gives you his phone number, despite the fact you weren’t planning on reaching out to a total stranger any time soon.

Then you happen to run into him randomly. Maybe at a grocery store where you comment on his hat and once he says his name is Billy you kinda make a face that has him blushing and going, “heard about me already? By god, ‘ve got a reputation.”

And you tell him it’s not a bad one. He’s much more handsome than you expected but completely and utterly the gentleman he was described as.

then it’s only another week later that your car breaks down. You’re too far out from your home or the main center of town but what you do know is what you’ve heard about Billy. And you’ve met him at least, so it wouldn’t be weird to call him, right? You do it anyways and he barely hesitates to come help.

He’s there in under five minutes with his pickup. It’s night, and he can tell how stressed you are, so Billy’s first priority is making sure you’re okay. Part of him worries you got hurt somehow but once you say you’re physically fine, he gets you to sit in his car, shows you how his radio works in there so you can play music if you want.

He goes to try and fix your car in the meantime and you can’t help but snoop a little. His car isn’t completely clean but it’s him, even if you don’t know him well.

he’s got a half empty thing of cigarettes, a lighter, water bottle, some crumpled up pieces of paper that you don’t look into. Loose change, of course. He’s got a picture of his family, a small, wallet sized one. He may or may not have a condom or two in his glovebox which you try to forget about immediately.

There’s a blanket over the driver’s seat, looks like it was knitted by someone.

When he comes back, it almost spooks you.

he fixed whatever it was with your car and he sends you off on your way, saying awkwardly to let him know you got home safe while you tell him you owe him.

[meraki-yao]

Dropping in to say your crying at the vows Payneland was SUPERB! Is it too late for 🤬 Payneland? If so no stress at all! Your writing is awesome!

Hi! Oh my God, thank you so much! I'm glad you liked the last one! Thank you for the prompt and sorry for this being late!

🤬Argument with a family member

This is a human/alive AU by the way!

TW: Paul Rowland being a homophobic, abusive asshole, homophobic slurs

Charles freezes, his fiancé’s hand tightening on his arm. Standing in front of their wedding venue entrance, arguing with the security, is his father who he hasn’t seen in years. After struggling through university on his own and meeting Edwin Payne, he took off and ran far away from home, cutting all contact with his parents while building a new home with the love of his life. A few years down the line, he and Edwin created a cipher to communicate with his mother. But throughout all of this, they have deliberately steered clear of his father. His father, who beat him senseless; his father, who locked his lanky teenage self in the basement that he lived in since he was five; his father, who nearly ripped his pierce off his ear, calling him homophobic slur years before he came to terms with his bisexuality. After Charles confessed his trauma after a particularly violent nightmare, Edwin had held him and promised that he would never let Paul Rowland near him ever again. Charles had gripped his boyfriend’s waist and promised the same: he cannot ever let his father lay a hand on sweet, gentle, loving Edwin. But he’s here now, at their rehearsal dinner, and he can’t help but freeze at the sight. Why? How? What is he doing here? How did he find him out after so long? What do I do now? Charles’ eyes meet his dad’s and the next thing he knows, Paul Rowland is pushing the security guard to the ground and comes marching their way, the rage on his face horrifyingly familiar. He has to move, he has to leave, he has to protect Edwin— But he can’t move. He’s frozen in place, legs turned to jelly. He wants to scream and cry but only quick puffs of breaths come out. Just before his dad can shout a curse at them, Edwin suddenly steps forward, pushing Charles behind him. “Excuse me, sir.” He says eerily calmly, which is a sign that he’s actually angry. “I don’t believe you’re invite to this function. You are trespassing right now, please kindly leave the premise before we have to call the authorities.” “Move out of the way, you fag. I’m here to talk to my son.” Paul Rowland growls, and Charles flinches, he wants to grab Edwin’s hand and run. “As you can clearly see, Charles does not want to talk to you. Now, leave.” Edwin continue, not phased by the slur. “CHARLES! YOU FUCKING USELESS PIECE OF SHIT, HIDING BEHIND A FAIRY?” The familiar roar rings in Charles’ ear. He can’t fucking breathe oh God oh fuck— BAM! Edwin, his sweet Edwin who has always gravitated to words, who he has tried to get into boxing without much success, punches his dad square in the jaw. Both Rowlands stare at him in shock. “YOU FUCKER! HOW DARE YOU—” “No, you listen here.” Edwin states, a dangerous edge in his voice. “We have given you multiple warnings. I will not allow you to come here, ruin our joyous occasion and do any harm to my fiancé, physical or otherwise. The police can deal with you now, we’re done here.” He lays a hand on Charles’ back, gentle despite the situation, and leads him away as the police who have finally arrived come and pull his dad away for questioning. They’ll need to provide their recount too, but Edwin insisted that they’ll deal with that later. They enter the dressing room of the venue where Charles collapses onto a chair. Edwin kneels before him, hand cupping his cheek, thumb swiping under his eyes. “Charles, please tell me what’s going on.” “No, it’s nothing, I’ll be fine I— Holy shit, Edwin, you punched my dad!” “Yes well, I very well couldn’t stand there and let him cause you even more distress, and he was clearly not going to listen to a word I say, sometimes actions do speak louder than words.” Charles pulls Edwin into his lap and wraps his arm around his waist, nose buried in his neck, breathing the familiar scent. Edwin’s hand goes to his curls as he presses kisses on to the top of his head. God, how lucky is he, to have such a wonderful person to call his? “We’ll be alright, my love,” Edwin whispers. “I promise, we’ll be alright.” Charles has never doubted him.

[snapghoul]

Sereshaw prompt: A bet leads to a makeover and some unexpected feelings.

Hotter than a no AC all summer

A bet that makes Jake realize something.

Note: hehe, I love writing Jake’s thoughts. And Bradley is no different, those two fold like chairs for each other so quickly it’s embarrassing.

Warnings: foul language

Song: steal my thunder - Connor smith & Tucker Wetmore

It all began at the Hard Deck.

Jake, feeling a pang of homesickness, donned his cowboy hat, jeans, and boots, topped off with a rolled-up dark blue flannel. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of Texas, and his squad was not about to let it slide, especially Bradley.

“At least it’s better than your eye-bleeding style, Bradshaw. The '80s were a nightmare,” Jake shot back, leaning against his pool cue with a playful glare.

“Hangman, you’re the last person to talk fashion. You look like you belong in the middle of bum fuck no where with a herd of cows,” Bradley countered, smirking. Jake bristled; he was a proud Texan, and there was no shame in ranching.

Then Bob chimed in. The Weapons Systems Officer, usually sweet and timid, had a knack for instigating chaos when no one was looking.

“You two should swap styles,” he suggested with an innocent smile, and the rest of the squad nodded in agreement.

“That would be hilarious,” Fanboy chuckled, taking a shot at the pool balls.

Jake and Bradley exchanged a look, a spark of challenge igniting between them.

“First one to back down and change owes $100,” Bradley proposed. They had to keep their bets light; last time they went too far, Vice Admiral Cyclone had given them a serious tongue lashing.

“Deal,” Jake replied, and they sealed it with a handshake, both grinning.

And so the challenge began. Jake scoured the thrift store, piecing together his best attempt at Bradley’s style. To his surprise, he didn’t look half bad; the Hawaiian shirts were surprisingly comfortable.

Meanwhile, Bradley raided a shop of his own. He even picked up nice boots and a hat, though he knew Jake would probably call them inauthentic. The jeans fit fine, but the long sleeves felt strange, and the flannel was a bit constricting. Still, he found he actually liked the hat.

It didn’t take long for Jake’s mouth to go dry. This wasn’t how he expected the bet to unfold. No, not with Bradley looking so damn good in that hat and those boots. Jake felt heat flood his cheeks. He’d always found Bradley attractive, but seeing him dressed like the boys from back home he used to fawn over stirred something deeper.

Shit, save a horse. Jake thought.

“Hangman, you look…” Bradley tilted his head and shrugged, weighing his words.

“I am good, Rooster,” Jake interrupted, anticipating a joke. “I’m very good.”

Bradley rolled his eyes and adjusted his hat, an action that tightened Jake’s throat.

“Keep telling yourself that.” He stepped closer, positioning himself next to Jake by the dartboard. They were the first to arrive at their usual meet-up at the Hard Deck.

If he gets any closer, Penny’s going to throw me overboard, fuck me. Jake took a swig of his beer, trying to shake off his racing thoughts. Curse this bet. Curse Bob for suggesting it. Jake knew he was destined to lose.

[stormysunday9]

I've been editing this for too long now and I just need to put it out into the world. The ending doesn't feel quite right...but maybe that's because this story just isn't done yet!

Featuring: happy Joe, some 18+ stuff, and a bit of cheese.

The Missing Piece

I was now five blocks from work and the man who had  stepped out behind me after I locked the door was still following closely behind me.

I started to panic, I was at least another ten blocks from home. It was starting to get dark. I was 5'5 and all I had to protect me was my lunch bag and the yogurt I didn't eat. My heart was pounding. I didn't need to turn around to see him, I could sense him there.

This was a pretty affluent neighbourhood, maybe I could just pretend I lived here. I walked past a couple more homes, then started the journey up one of the long driveways, not daring to look behind me. When I reached the front door, I pretended to unlock it, hoping I'd sold my story to my creepy shadow. When I twisted the knob, the door opened easily, and since I was no longer thinking clearly I just stepped inside.

After a moment of relief from being off the street and into safety, I looked up to see a very tall man standing in front of me with a look of both shock and concern fleeting over his icy blue eyes.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so so sorry! There was a man, I don't know, he's been following me since I left work! I still have so far to go, I was getting scared, I didn't know what to do, your door was unlocked, I didn't mean to come in...." I was still tripping over my words as the man placed his hands on my shoulders and tried to meet my wild eyes .

"Hey, hey." He said firmly but calmly. "It's ok, you're ok. I know, I saw him on the camera, he was following you up the drive. Do you want me to call the police?"

"No, I don't think so. I don't know. I didn't even get a good look at him." I replied. "Do you mind if I sit down?" I asked embarrassingly, the adrenaline was fading and I felt like I might fall over.

"Yes of course", he ushered me to the couch, "and my security camera, I have a clear shot of him on there."

"Oh smart. Ya I can get an image from there then, I'll file a report tomorrow. I'm so sorry for all this." My head was finally starting to stop spinning and my heart slowing down, allowing me to take in my surroundings a bit more clearly. This was a very nice house. Very clean. No clutter. I looked over my shoulder to see him coming back from the kitchen.

He carefully sat down near me on the couch, being sure to leave a full cushion's worth of space between us. He handed me a glass of water and said, "I'm Joe, by the way."

"Hi Joe", I responded, and took a quick drink of water before adding, "you should really lock your doors."

He let out a chuckle and a grin spread across his face. "Well, in this particular instance, I'm kind of glad I didn't. My manager was supposed to be stopping by, so I left it open."

"Oh my gosh, let me get out of your hair then. I don't want to get you in trouble with work! I just need to call an Uber." I started searching my bag for my phone.

"I would like to drive you home if that's ok. Not sure how many more strange men you should add to this day." He raised an eyebrow at me, presumably waiting to see if I was going to laugh or start crying.

I laughed. "That's very kind, but what about your manager?"

"Don't worry about that, my job is pretty secure," he smiled, "let me grab my keys and my shoes."

I noticed he was wearing slippers currently, slippers which I could only describe as old man slippers. He did seem to have an old soul aura about him. I followed Joe out to his garage, that housed multiple vehicles - a very flashy sports car, a futuristic looking truck, and a Mercedes G Wagon. And it looked like we were taking the latter. He must be some kind of tech mogul, I thought to myself, but what's a tech mogul doing in the middle of Ohio?

When we reached my house, which was about an eighth the size of his, I turned to look at him. I couldn't help but think how warm those cold blue eyes looked. 

"Thank you so much, seriously." I said. "You're a real hero."

He chuckled. "Would I be able to give you my number?" He asked.

My wide eyed expression must have given away what I was trying to keep my mouth from saying because Joe immediately spoke up.

"Not like that!" He backtracked shaking his head, "just in case you need more security footage, or a witness statement of something. Or anything at all really. I'm usually around. Except Sundays. I work Sundays." 

I handed him my phone and he quickly typed his number in and handed it back to me. 

"I'm Casey, by the way" I said as I stepped out of his truck. 

"Hi Casey," he smiled.

"Lock your door, Joe!" I yelled over my shoulder as I walked to my front door.

I saw him give me a hand to forehead salute through the passenger window. I walked inside, locked my own door, and peeked out the window, just in time to see him pull away.

---------------

The next couple days were less eventful. I had security cameras installed at the shop. I filed my police report at the station. And I ordered some bear spray from Amazon. I was glad when the weekend finally rolled around, and on Sunday headed over to my friend Jess' house for our weekend supper tradition. Jess and her husband always hosted, and our other friend Kate and her boyfriend joined, and then me, the obligatory fifth wheel. The boys usually watched football and us girls caught up on gossip and played board games.

The girls and I were playing a very distracted round of Uno while the boys yelled at the game on the TV. I casually glanced over at the TV after being served multiple miss a turns in a row, and what I saw put my heart in my stomach. 

Unforgettable icy blue eyes.

"Ummm, who is that, Trevor?" I anxiously asked Jess' husband.

"Joe Burrow.", Trevor replied.

"I can read the screen, Trev, I mean who IS he?"

"The quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals. And you're a disappointment to the whole state of Ohio for not knowing that."

"Harsh, but ok...and like, he's pretty good? Or what?"

Trevor rolled his eyes and turned to look at me, "ya he's like top three in the league, easy. Why, Case? You finally gonna become a football fan?"

I excused myself from the Uno game that I was never going to win anyway and grabbed my phone from my bag. I searched my contacts. J...O...E...

Joe with the Unlocked Doors.

There he was. And with a sense of humor at that. I opened the contact and began to type.

Wow. Your overconfident sense of job security makes so much sense now!

Presumably he wouldn't be texting back anytime soon. Based on the tv screen he appeared to be rather busy at the moment. 

Later that evening I was laying on the couch, working on a bracelet I was making and watching Netflix when my phone lit up.

Shocked Pikachu gif. (Classic choice.) So you're not a football fan then?

I just don't know anything about it. But today I learned Joe Burrow is the quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals. And that sometimes he leaves his doors unlocked. 🤷‍♀️

Ha! Both of those are true. I'm glad you texted.

It was a shock response.

I'm glad anyway. So now you know what I do, what do you do? Aside from walk into strangers houses, of course.

Cold.

I'm actually a dog groomer. I make pups pretty for a living. I have a little shop on Hudson, which is where I was walking from when I broke into your home.

That's unexpected, and so cool. Love that you've got your own grind. 

Well my grind doesn't garner me multiple vehicles in my garage, but I do love it. It only affords me my old Bronco that starts half the time, and not at all in the winter.

Is that why you walk?

Sometimes. But I do like being outside. And "that day" I chose to walk. Looking back, evidently a poor choice.

Maybe not all bad since you met me?

Haha, I dunno, I got to meet the quarterback of an NFL team and didn't even ask for an autograph! 🫤

Funny. Maybe don't think of me as that, just think of me as Joe.

...with the unlocked doors! 

Exactly. 😉

We continued to message back and forth, joking and laughing while also learning a bit about one another, when I looked at the time on my phone and couldn't believe how late it had gotten.

I think I better get some shut eye. Early start tomorrow. Nice chatting with you. Goodnight, Joe!

Goodnight, Casey. Sweet dreams.

It took me a while to fall asleep that night. What is happening? He's so nice. And absolutely gorgeous. Now that I could think about him a little more clearly and not in a fear filled state of adrenaline...wow. He had to be a full foot taller than me, with what appeared to be the strength of a Greek god, and the fluffiest, wavy hair that was just being begged to have hands run through it. And a little curl that kept falling onto his forehead no matter how many times he pushed it back. And those eyes...oh my gosh those eyes. 

Pull yourself together, Casey! I scolded myself. I was being ridiculous. And I needed some sleep, it was back to my not so lucrative grind tomorrow.

----------------

Monday morning I was back in my element. The Bronco started, my first dogs of the day were settled on the floor around me, my coffee was just right. Maybe it would be a good week. With my headphones on, and high velocity dryer blasting, I almost didn't hear someone walk through the door. I looked up, startled so see a man with a hoodie pulled over his head and wrap around sunglasses on his face. He must have seen the fear in my eyes as he immediately reached up to push the hood off his head and replace it with his sunglasses.

Joe.

I felt my face flush. I turned off the dryer and put my headphones around my neck.

"What on earth..." Was all I could get out.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just figured that you saw what I do, so I wanted to see what you do...I hope that's ok." I could see a worried look in his eyes.

"How did you find me?" I probably should have reassured those baby blues, but I was still so confused.

"Well you told me your shop was on Hudson. And there was a dog groomer on Hudson called Casey's Place.....so I guess I'm a detective?" He was still feeling out if he'd made a mistake.

I laughed. "That's fair I guess. You googled me?!"

He let out a chuckle. Those seemed difficult to evoke from him, but I felt like I could make it my full time job just to hear the sound and watch the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"You haven't googled me?" He asked with mock accusation.

"Actually, no," I admitted, "I think I'd prefer to learn about you from you."

He smiled, "well I guess we've determined who's the better person then!"

He suddenly sat on the floor cross legged, and the three dogs already on the floor immediately ran to him and began climbing and licking him maniacally.

Jealous, I thought. But only said, "well that's a good sign."

"What is?," he asked while trying to avoid getting dog tongue directly in his mouth.

"Never trust someone your dog doesn't trust! And they seem to love you."

This time he blushed.

I lifted the dog on the table down to the floor so he could join the fun. 

Joe tried to untangle himself from the dog pile and stand back up. "I was wondering if I could take you to lunch?" he asked, barely making eye contact.

Wow, is he...nervous? I wanted to say yes so bad, but I was the only one in the shop today, and I couldn't leave the dogs unattended. 

"Could I take a rain check?" I asked, hoping my eyes didn't look as desperate as I felt.

"Of course," he replied, "I knew you were working, I'm sorry."

I gave him a little pout, and the corners of his mouth turned up. 

"I'll talk to you soon!" He said and quickly turned and walked out the door.

My heart sank. Did I just turn down Joe Burrow on a date? But my job, I've worked so hard for this shop, and surely he gets that. I hoisted the dog back onto the table and got back to work, while my heart continued to chastise my brain for being too responsible. Then my phone chimed. I looked at my watch to see a message from Joe. I pulled out my phone to open it.

Do you like onions?

Well...I guess he still wants to get to know me? First what I do for a living, now my produce preferences?

I typed back, Yes with a question mark.

Message read, no response.

This man is an enigma. 

And then 10 minutes later my door dinged and in walked Joe with two greasy paper bags, a tray loaded down with drinks, and a smile that could light up the dark.

"You still have to eat, right?" He said with a shrug of his big, broad shoulders and began to spread out a selection of burgers and fries across the grooming table that wasn't currently in use.

"I got you a soda, a milkshake and a coffee because I don't know what you like yet." He explained 

Yet. Oh my gosh he was adorable. I melted, perhaps obviously.

I pulled up two stools, suddenly a little unsure if one would even support Joe's enormous size. He sat down and it looked almost comical.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized, unable to choke back my laughter, "I don't normally cater to football stars". 

He brushed it off, quickly. "All good, a lot of furniture is too small for me. Or I'm too big for it. Whichever."

He took a big bite of a burger while I grabbed a couple fries, unable to take my eyes off him, trying to understand what these last several days were coming to. My overthinking brain couldn't take it anymore, and I just spit out "Why me?"

Joe turned to me, looking straight into my eyes, with surprise. "What do you mean?", he seemed genuinely confused. 

I took a deep breath. "Well, like, you're you. You're obviously super attractive, you're a famous athlete, you're talented, smart, focused, funny, kind, charming... I'm sure you could have your pick of anyone in Ohio - no, in America. Maybe even Canada too. And then, I'm just me."

"You think I'm attractive?" He said, eyebrows raising, blue eyes mischievous.

I rolled my eyes.

"But seriously, Casey," he continued, "I'm intrigued by you. I love that you know who you are, and what you're about. You're beautiful, you're smart, you're focused. And honestly, I kind of liked that you didn't know who I was."

I could feel the flush of red flowing up my face, I've never been good at accepting compliments. Especially from this remarkable specimen of a man sitting so very close to me right now.

"I really don't think you're giving yourself enough credit", he continued, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the day I laid eyes on you. I wasn't going to push it, but when you texted me yesterday, I knew I didn't want to let you get away." 

He placed his large hand on my thigh, I think to comfort me because he could tell I was overwhelmed, but it had the opposite effect and made my heart beat 10 times faster.

"I like you too, Joe. I just don't know what this would look like. Dog groomer dates NFL superstar? I'm an introvert. Sometimes I get anxious if the grocery store is really busy."

Joe burst out laughing. "Maybe just don't overthink it, and we can see what happens?" He smiled, his eyes pleading with mine, feeling like they were reaching in and pulling directly on my heart. A smile started creeping across my face, despite my best efforts to convince myself there was just no way this was happening, and then Joe leaned in and planted his full, beautiful lips on mine, leaving absolutely no doubt that it really was. 

------------

The rest of the week was bliss. Late nights facetiming until we fell asleep, Joe stopping in with coffee for me at work (now that he knew that was my drink of choice). I was living for getting to know and understand him. I'd never known someone so focused, so loyal. He was incredibly intelligent, loved his family, he was thoughtful, awkward enough to allow me to believe he really was human, and so adorable when he tried to flirt. And probably most surprising, he was quite introverted too, preferring to keep a small circle, and still navigating the fame that he had now achieved. 

I also learned that the day before game day, as far as anyone in the world is concerned, Joe Burrow does not exist. He takes the day to focus, watch tape, and avoid distraction and chatter at all costs. He definitely takes his job seriously, but I get it, he loves what he does.

So Friday night he picked me up to go to his place for supper. He wanted to avoid a public outing, to avoid the media storm that was sure to follow. I thought that sounded like a great idea. He pulled up in his white G-Wagon around 7pm. 

I climbed up into the passenger side. 

"Did you lock your door?" He joked.

"Hilarious.", I replied, "why do you always drive this thing? Don't get me wrong, you look hot as hell behind the wheel, but I know you have a garage full of choices."

He blushed and tried to hide his smile. "Those were all phases I thought I was going through I guess. This thing is my favourite. And the least conspicuous". 

He put the vehicle in gear and reached across the console to hold my hand. It was a short drive to his house, despite us living in very different neighbourhoods. We walked into his house that already smelled like food as his cook was busy preparing game day prep-appropriate nutrition. We sat down on his oversized couch (he seemed to have purchased furniture more suited so his size), and he turned to look at me. He grabbed both my hands in his, making them all but disappear. 

"I have a question for you," he started.

Uh oh. Serious Joe was also unreadable Joe. 

"Oooook," I said nervously.

He squeezed my hands. 

"It's nothing bad, I was just wondering if you wanted to come to my game on Sunday. You don't have to sit in the suite, I can get you tickets for the stands. You can bring friends if you want. Whatever you want."

Oh boy. There is nothing I wanted more than to be there to support him, cheer him on, watch him do his thing, see him in those tight pants in person... But I wasn't sure I was ready for that kind of debut yet.

"Joe...."

He could sense my reservations immediately.

"It's ok," he reassured me, "I wanted you to have the invitation, I totally get it if we're...not there yet." He seemed genuine, but also a little sad. Damn those puppy dog eyes.

"It's not that, I just haven't really told anyone about us yet, I wasn't even sure there was anything to tell, and I barely understand the game, and if at any point you'd be there with me I'd be all for it, but I know that's not how game day works. I will be there, and soon....I think I just need a little more time." My eyes were pleading with him to understand. 

And of course he did. He wrapped me in a big hug. "I'm looking forward to that day, and it makes me unreasonably happy to hear you talk about the future, even if you're just talking three weeks from now." He was grinning like a fool. I was absolutely falling for this man.

"I have a proposition, perhaps a bit of a compromise. What if you come to my place after your game. I would really like to see you, especially if I have to be Joe-free tomorrow." I tried my best puppy dog eyes, and they seemed to work.

"I can do that," he agreed, "but if we don't win, I can't say how good of company I'll be".

"If we don't win?!" I mocked, "well that doesn't sound like Joe Burrow at all!"

He laughed. That was still my favourite. They didn't come easily, but I would spend my last day trying just to hear that beautiful sound. 

----------

Sunday afternoon I plopped down on the couch with a coffee, a blanket, and my phone. I turned on the tv to the game. And suddenly felt very, very nervous. I wasn't sure what the superstitions were about talking to the players before the game, but I decided to send Joe a quick text. Knowing him, he doesn't even look at his phone prior to a game. 

Have fun today. We're the lucky ones, getting paid to do what we love ❤️

He replied with the kissing face emoji: 😘

Swoon.

I spent most of the game googling - offside, the pocket, roughing the passer, why are they punting, what is a punt.....this was gonna be a steep learning curve. I also spent part of the game covering my eyes when Joe was about to get hit. This was so intense. It was a hard fought game, but three hours later the Bengals finished with a loss by two points. Now I was even more nervous. I was about to meet After a Loss Joe. Knowing how seriously he takes his job, I knew losses must hit him pretty hard. 

45 minutes after the game ended, the G Wagon's headlights shone into my front window. Well, he still came over so that was a good sign.

I opened the door to him not standing as tall as he usually does, but he still wrapped me in a hug and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. 

"Hi", I said softly, meeting his eyes. "I'm proud of you, that was amazing to watch". 

He offered a small smile and walked across the room to collapse on the couch.

I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of tea  and him a glass of water, then joined him in the front room. I set the cups on the table, and sat down on his lap, running my hand through his freshly washed hair. He wrapped his long arms around my waist and rested his head against my shoulder. I didn't say anything, just listened to him breathe, while I breathed in his fresh shower scent, and enjoyed how small I felt on his expansive lap, with his strong arms enveloping me. 

Eventually he swung his legs up onto the couch and scooted down so he was laying down, taking up the whole length of the couch. He moved me to the side so I was tucked in between his body and the back of the couch. I rested my head on his chest.

"I just hate letting the guys down," he finally spoke.

I didn't offer a response. I didn't think he was looking for one.

"I fumbled that snap, I don't even know how, but that was about to be a big play, and instead it was nothing."

I pushed myself up onto my elbow so I could see his face. He stared at me for a minute.

"Aren't you gonna say anything?" He asked.

"What could I possibly have to offer? I spent the whole game googling terminology and covering my eyes cuz I was scared you were gonna get hurt!" I admitted.

Unexpectedly, his face relaxed, and he laughed. 

"If it helps, I thought you looked great, I found the game really exciting, for what I understood, and I kinda hoped you were gonna show up here in your uniform still because wow, apparently I love a man I uniform." I said with a knowing look. 

"Is that so?" He asked, a smirk on his face

He sat back up, and scooped me back onto his lap, this time so I was straddling him and looking right into those beautiful eyes. He stared at me for what felt like forever before saying, "You're my missing piece." 

"Sorry?" I replied, confused.

"It's just, I have everything I ever could have wanted from life, and I couldn't figure out why I still wasn't where I wanted to be. This is the first time I've ever held onto a little hope after a loss, because I still had something to look forward to. I was excited to come here. It's you, Case. I was missing you. And now here you are. And I'm sorry to tell you, but now that I have you, i'm never gonna let you go." His face was so soft, relaxed, certain.

I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes. His sincerity made me emotional. I didn't risk speaking, as I knew my voice would give away how much I was feeling for him in that moment. Instead, I leaned into him and kissed him deeply. His tongue forced it's way into my mouth, playing tag with mine. I ran my hands through his hair like I'd been dreaming of doing all week. 

He slipped his hands under me and lifted us both off the couch in one swift movement. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, still kissing his mouth, his cheeks, his neck. 

He gently laid me down on my bed, and I shimmied my body up to my pillow. He climbed onto the bed on his hands and knees, hovering over me like a real Bengal tiger about to devour his prey. He started at my forehead and began working his way down, kissing every inch of me. He pulled down the shoulder of my shirt and planted soft, yet hungry kisses on my bare skin. He then pushed my shirt up, exposing my belly, kissing me more. I pulled the shirt over my head, exposing my bra. More kisses between the exposed parts of my breasts. Down to my belly button, where he began to unbutton my jeans. 

"You're so beautiful" be breathed out between kisses. 

"Hold on," I begged, and pulled his shirt over his head. I almost gasped, taking in every inch of his expansive, muscular torso. A bruise on his bicep, a scar on his belly, and the most phenomenal abs I'd ever seen. 

"You're ethereal." I panted.

"Your vocabulary is so sexy", he grinned, and continued planting kisses all over me. He pulled my jeans down and kissed his way back up my legs. When he made it to the warm, increasingly wet place between my legs, he sat up on his knees, taking in all of me. I should have felt self conscious, but instead I felt safe, even beautiful. I pulled him back into me and began sliding his track pants over his hips. He wasn't wearing underwear. His cock sprung out, erect and very large. I looked up at him, he was waiting for a response. I may have whimpered.

"Is this ok?" He asked.

"I can't think of anything I want more", I replied, perhaps a bit desperately.

He slid my panties down and let his fingers enter me. I couldn't have been any more wet, but the feel of his hard length rubbing against my thigh as he fingered me was making me feral. 

I put my hands on his shoulders, drawing his attention back to my face. "I want you," I panted, "all of you."

His face was flushed, and he smiled. He positioned himself back on top of me, and slowly pushed his hard cock into me. It slid in easily with how wet I was, and filled absolutely every bit of me. When he finally bottomed out, I gasped 

"Are you alright?" His face showed genuine concern. 

"Never been better," I reassured him. I wrapped my legs around him, taking in every inch, while he kissed my neck and thrusted into me, slowly, steadily. I was digging my nails into his back. He felt so good. I never wanted him to stop. He continue to place soft kisses down my neck, on my breasts, letting his tongue linger on my nipples. Despite how strong this man was, he couldn't have been more gentle and attentive. 

When his face was near mine again, I told him to roll over. Excitement flickered over his eyes, he smiled, and obeyed.

I straddled him and began grinding my hips against him. In this position, he went even deeper into me, I could feel him in my belly. I couldn't stop staring at him. The more I took in every perfect angle of his face and body, the quicker my body forced itself against him. My clit rubbing against his abdomen in my own slickness, I could feel myself reaching my climax.

"Are you close?" I breathed, holding onto him tightly.

"I'm ready when you are," he smiled.

I began rocking harder, faster, reaching around to cradle his heavy testicles, watching his face writhe in exquisite pleasure until I felt every nerve in me release while I pulled him in even deeper and tighter in the throes of orgasm. I felt him buck his hips into me while moaning in pleasure, savoring his own release. I collapsed onto his hard body, completely blissed out. 

He wrapped his arms around me, and whispered "wow..." Between ragged breaths. 

I rolled off of him and curled in beside him as tightly as possible. His arm around my back, mine draped over his perfect torso.

"After that, I won't be going anywhere either, just so you know." I told him while tracing small circles with my finger around his chest. 

"Nothing would make me happier," he smiled, and turned to kiss my cheek. 

I guess I better start figuring out how to be a little more comfortable in crowds....

----------

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 9, Part 9

CW: Mental Health Struggles - Guide to content warnings

Even Sulani was not immune from rain. Carson got out of bed at the cry of his alarm and headed to his bathroom. He liked that there was more space, and it had a nice view even with the downpour, but it didn’t make having to shave before school any easier. When he was clean and dressed and finished breakfast he decided to call his older sister, just to check about sharks.

Carson: I know it’s early but can you please tell me if sharks can break through my floor

Marta: Hola Carson, Keira is in the shower

Carson: Oh, sorry, I didn't even think about you answering her phone

Marta: It’s bueno. She told me on honeymoon sharks are pretty safe. Most attacks are from thinking a human is a fish. They will not break through your floor

Carson: Are you sure

Marta: Si, I promise. She said from underneath surfboards look like seals *laughs* isn’t that cute? But your house will not look like a big seal

Kayleigh had the day off and spent it doing what she loved most, painting! After finishing a particularly excellent painting she got a call from her regular gallery. News around the town was that Kayleigh Foster was now a global superstar! They hoped she would remember them in her future works and they had recommended her for a star of fame in Del Sol Valley! Once she got a call from the council she couldn’t contain her excitement and called around her family to let them know.

Charlie: You’re really going to get a star?

Kayleigh: That’s the rumor. You’ll all come right? I couldn’t have done it without my family. And after maybe everyone can stay for a couple of days, this house has enough room

Charlie: Of course but don’t you want to celebrate like... without your kids

Kayleigh: Your dad suggested a dinner party for my friends tonight which will be nice. He’s going to ring around on his afternoon break

When Carson got home he congratulated his mum and sat down to do his homework where he could talk to her and his eldest sister.

Carson: So everyone will be invited to stay? Even Reece?

Kayleigh: *sighs* You’ll be at school a lot of the time, don’t worry about Reece

Charlie: Besides, he’s less snarky with you when Samir is around. It’s like he tries to be well behaved or something

Carson: Charlie you know he tried convincing me Samir is a werewolf! As if I'd fall for that

Kayleigh: Actually that is true

Charlie: Mum... have you been inhaling the paint fumes for to long?

Kayleigh: No! Samir told me. Your dad and I have discussed it at length. It’s strange but true

Charlie: When were you going to tell us?

Kayleigh: I wasn’t but clearly Reece doesn’t mind you knowing

Carson: Great, another thing he can make fun of me for not knowing

Kayleigh: I know you two fight but he loves you really

Charlie: Have you told him about the OCD yet

Carson: No. Do you think I should?

Kayleigh: It’s always your choice darling

Carson: Maybe. I’ll think about it since he’s willing to open up about Samir

Kayleigh: Do you want to invite some friends over? Me and your dad will be out here with our guests so the living room will be empty

Carson: Yeah I’ll see if the guys and Onyx are free, thanks Mum

Charlie: Mum that picture is gorgeous, is that Ariel? Can I have it? Please please please

Kayleigh: *laughs* Okay firstborn, it’s yours

Charlie: YES

Harvey greeted the guests as they arrived to celebrate his wife. Most of them were from back when they lived in Willow Creek but Kayleigh had also asked him to invite two he’d never met before, Suzanna and Adam Kightstone.

Harvey: Nice to meet you. I’m glad you could make the trip from Chestnut Ridge

Suzanna: Of course! She deserves a celebration

Adam: Oh wow, look at all her art! This is so much more than the gallery pieces

Harvey: Yes if she paints masterpieces she likes to keep them at home

Kayleigh: Food everyone! We’ve made a gorgeous salad for starters

Suzanna: Now remember we’re here for my friend, not to fly off the handle if the food isn’t right

Adam: Alexander is the food critic, I just do art

Suzanna: Adam I’m serious. She’s never judged us for being aliens, it’s important

Adam: Don’t worry starlight, I can keep a level head for a night for you. Let’s go see what humans choose to put in their salads, how many fruits do you think we'll find?

Bob: You must be proud

Harvey: Oh I am! How a fisherman like me managed to catch her I’ve no idea. Anyway we’ll be celebrating your success soon. Bob is a chef see

Adam: Oh yes I’ve read the reviews, everyone seems to love your food. Any plans of opening your own place?

Bob: Eventually but I know Eliza would like me to have a stable well paying job for a while first, especially now we have Tiana. She’s our youngest, we adopted her

Suzanna: I would have loved a girl but we have two boys

Bob: Well just wait until they grow up, Onyx surprised me, and Aaron's Artemisia. You may have a daughter under your roof and just not know it yet

Calista: If Emisia ever crosses a line just tell us and we’ll talk to her about her manners

Kayleigh: From what I can tell Carson isn’t too bothered by her. He was a bit stressed after prom but I think he has girl on the brain for now

Aaron: It’s a relief there’s some kids that are unbothered

Eliza: Fergus is also unbothered worse luck

Aaron: I know you think Emisia is a bad influence but-

Eliza: Oh they have always been thick as thieves. I don’t think I could pry their friendship apart with a crowbar. It helps that she has a lawyer for a dad though, hopefully that'll stop them getting up to anything illegal

Previous ... Next

[trexalicious]

A scathingly brilliant piece from Jan Moir...🤣

Like a cavalry galloping to the rescue of their wounded leaders, former and current employees of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex rushed into print this week to big up their bosses.

In the pages of Us Weekly, an influential American showbiz magazine popular with teens and teen-moms, print and online readers were breathlessly informed by Team Sussex that Prince Harry was a super-great guy, no airs and graces, just a regular dude, rah-rah-rah.

Meanwhile, what about girlboss Meghan? According to those who worked for her and lived to tell the tale, she was completely marvellous, too. No, really. Pass me that halo and let her duchessy love light shine.

For she was kind and thoughtful. She made great gourmet snacks. 'Some of my favourite memories,' said former Archewell president Mandana Dayani, who lasted 18 months until she left in 2022, 'were during our weekly meetings in her Montecito home, where Meghan always served the most incredible lunches and her latest beautiful concoctions.'

I am imagining exquisite delicacies such as 'vegetable soup' and 'green salad', ­possibly even a delightful 'egg‑based ­omelette' sourced from the in-house ­rescue chickens.

As the Sussex staff detailed the ­positives for posterity, it was hard to determine the true nature of their ­relationship with their bosses. Attorney-­client, doctor-patient, jailer-inmate, star-civilian, duchess-serf?

And was it my imagination or were the outpourings of these worker drones ­reminiscent of the rising hysteria of ­someone chained to a radiator in the basement of Archewell Towers, hoping to get home by Christmas?

According to their parti pris gibberish, Meghan was a Tinker Bell of titbits, a Mother Teresa of munificence; this gift-giving goddess who lavished staff with bow-tied presents and on-brand sharing and caring.

'When I adopted my dog, the next day I had a luxury-brand leash and new collar on my doorstep,' said one former staffer, who amusingly thought the gifts were for her pup.

'They want to take care of us,' one ­current employee told Us Weekly. 'Meghan will do things like: 'You mentioned on the call your skin is bothering you. I put together a kit for you.'

Is that being kind and helpful? Is that tending to the pimpled lame – or a tacit message to up their game?

For those of us who have spent a ­lifetime working in offices and assorted workplaces, alongside good bosses and bad, the thought of a superior sending you a tub of wrinkle cream or some self‑improving unguent, well, it just makes me want to die.

But listen, there is more. Meghan, said one staffer, is known for giving credit where it's due.

'If you're in a meeting and a great idea is referenced, she makes sure to give props [respect and appreciation] to the person who generated the idea,' they said. 'And after a big trip, every employee gets a personal email thanking them for their contribution in making it a success.'

An email! Oh, how lovely. Isn't this low-level respect the very least a valued member of staff deserves?

These fawning responses in Us Weekly came in riposte to a ­damning article in The Hollywood Reporter, which stated that the Duchess's 'terrible behaviour' was the root cause of the high ­turnover rate of staff at the couple's Archewell company.

The report in the entertainment industry bible earlier this month claimed that many of those who work and have worked for Meghan are 'terrified' of her. It included quotes from sources calling her a 'dictator in high heels' who ­'belittles' people and has reduced 'grown men to tears'.

I should point out here that Us Weekly is to the Sussexes what Pravda was to Stalin and what The Guardian is to Labour MP Jess Phillips – a blaring bugle of uncritical support. So, we heard in great detail about Archewell team visits to the couple's ­Montecito mansion, where Meghan gave everyone ­baskets of flowers, fruit and eggs to take home. So darling of her! She also passed on her ­children's hand-me downs. Is there no end to her generosity?

One employee even told Us Weekly that despite Meghan's reputation as a mini tyrant, they had 'never' heard her yell. Instead, the Duchess gave her staff 'clear direction and is ­solution-oriented' – which makes her sound like a rather lovely and amenable bottle of glue.

And when it came to hiring staff, another raving Archewell acolyte insisted that the Duke and ­Duchess of Sussex always 'picked the best of the best from every field and watered the seeds for them to flourish'.

But what are Harry and Meghan growing for posterity out there in California – an Archewell empire or a damp squib? Seeds, ­solutions, eggs . . . what the hell is going on?

Of course, these accusations are nothing new to royal-watchers in the UK. The Duchess of Sussex has long been dogged by reports she promotes a toxic workplace environment, along with repeated accusations of what her lawyers insist to this day we must call ­'difficult' behaviour. In 2021, reports that the former actress had allegedly bullied and reduced staff members to tears at Kensington Palace were dismissed by the Sussexes as a smear. Yet it is no secret that the couple have lost 18 employees to date in their short time as a ­company entity in both the UK and the US.

One new American-based source blames 'unbearable' and ­'condescending' Meghan for the alarming 'churn and burn' rate. These rumours just won't go away – but the big difference this time is that it is US news outlets that are making the claims.

Maer Roshan, co-editor-in-chief of The Hollywood Reporter, said he stands by the story after a backlash that included one ­Sussex source saying the claims were 'fabricated'.

Former and current employees of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex rushed into print this week to big up their bosses.

Roshan told Access Hollywood: 'Our reporter talked to a very high-up source who works for the couple and said: 'Everyone is ­terrified of Meghan.'

'Duchess Difficult is a nickname that has trailed Meghan Markle for quite a few years. What is new is that this notion, since coming to America, that a lot of these rumours were manufactured by the Palace – the reporting that we did suggests that probably isn't true and there is still this ­undercurrent of fear.'

Many of you might remember Prince Harry, in his high, tight, aggrieved voice, telling the world in his various documentaries and interviews that: 'There is a ­hierarchy of the [Royal] Family. You know there is leaking, but there is also ­planting of stories.'

Even The Hollywood Reporter, a neutral observer, now raises an eyebrow at this. This is devastating for the couple whose reputation has survived so far by ­blaming their difficulties on the Royal Family and the British Press, instead of examining their own alleged bad behaviour.

Just a few issues ago in Us Weekly, the Duchess of Sussex was smoothing down the pleats on her kilt of no-guilt and telling everyone that she was opening 'a chapter of joy' in her life and that everything was hunky in her dory.

But now – yet again – the ­Sussexes are back at square one; expending time, energy, favours and friends in defending themselves against the indefensible.

We have been here before, we are back here again; swimming against this avalanche of bad press, slaloming though the ­snowdrifts of snark.

It makes me think, was this westward flight by the Sussexes – this bridge-burning journey into what they presumed would be a better, kinder world, patrolled by powerful friends such as Oprah and billionaire Tyler Perry – ­simply fuelled by a lust for praise and admiration that they felt was their due?

Yet no longer can Meghan and Harry present themselves to the world as a couple under siege, a pair of self-righteous smirkers who felt themselves to be the ­victims of racism and bullying.

The Hollywood Reporter has described them as 'poor decision-makers' who 'change their minds frequently', and added that Harry was a 'very charming ­person' but 'very much an ­enabler'. The poor fool.

Duchess Difficult and the ­Enabling Prince? It sounds like a ­terrible Harry Potter novel, only now there is no magic spell to make this fresh stink vanish into the Californian air.

[misswarrioroflight]

continuing the trend of posting my artwork to late at night for anyone too see it

because im too impatient to wait to do it later

I just have to post it as soon as its done

anyways have Emet-Selch and Celestia

[robotpussy]

this white woman is threatening to call the police on me after she fucking sprayed bathroom cleaner in my fucking face and lashed out and told her to fuck off