#also good news! he does get hit by a car in the show

[ispyspookymansion]

ooh breedable. interesting way 2 view him....I'm sure it's popular but I tend to entirely avoid the part of tumblr that know him (a miracle I know idk how the fuck I did that) and I'm newer to yer blog but idk. Personally I just kind of look at that man and think oh he would DEFINITELY get hit by a car in my town. like he looks like that type of guy yknow. like. car hitting is a very good option for him. yknow what I mean ? he's just got that face. it wouldn't be malicious. just like accidental. def hit and run tho bc everything is a hit and run in my town.

i love your mind. this is like poetry to me

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Damian is de-aged to a baby and lost in Gotham. A magic user hit him with some kind of spell. His legs don’t work as well and he has trouble walking. That’s when a man appears and squats down with a tilt of his head.

“Yea, you are definitely not supposed to be out here, little guy.”

Damian glares at the man, early twenties, stubble along his jaw, ragged clothes, and dark bags under his eyes.

The man turns his head to look at the brick wall.

“Are you sure?”

And now he was talking to a wall. Curses. Of course he would be found by a crazy person.

The man suddenly hangs his head with a deep sigh. He regains himself quickly and stands. Moving closer to put his hands under Damian arms to lift him to perch on his hip.

Damian squirms to get down but refuses to make a sound. The last time he opened his mouth like this it was a pathetic baby sound. He couldn’t let this man see him like this.

“Looks like you’re coming home with me, little guy. I can tell you’ve got some spirit in you. Good, you’ll need it.”

Not ominous at all.

Damian stays with the man, mostly because he couldn’t physically drive a car, but also because he was almost always with him. The man would talk to air at the most random times. Obviously a schizophrenic. But Damian had to admit this man, Danny he comes to find out through a neighbor baby talking at him, has been genuinely trying to take care of him and take care of him well. Well, to the best of his abilities anyway. 

He feeds him organic purées that don’t taste half bad, except the carrots, that one was unacceptable. Danny cleans him regularly despite his crappy apartment and makes sure he is dressed appropriately for the weather. He makes an effort to take him out to the park to play in the sandbox or just walk around discovering ‘new’ things.

Damian doesn’t need a parent, he outgrew the concept when he was five and technically he already had one, but he could tell Danny would make an excellent father. Some mistakes can be overlooked compared to the effort he was putting in.

The only concerning thing was the talking to thin air. It took Damian an embarrassing amount of time to figure out the reason Danny was visiting all these random people and the graveyard. (Sometimes he will set Damian down to ‘play’ in the grass at the cemetery. It was quite odd.)

He was talking to ghosts. It wasn’t thin air or imaginary friends, no it was actually dead people. The reason Damian actually believes this is for two reasons.

One, Danny shows true results. Damian observes closely whenever they visit a ‘client’ and Danny always has accurate information despite never looking up or researching anything going in.

Two, he never calls himself a medium or psychic. He doesn’t boast about his ability to see ghosts. He does what he does to help the ghosts move on to the other side. Closure is what Danny always says. Closure for the family and the victim. In Gotham, there are a lot of victims.

Damian adjusts to his new life with Danny. It’s been five months and he’s getting used to being small and vulnerable. He’s allowed to be messy and whiny and childish. Danny never scolds him like Mother did. The man has never hit him or raised his voice at him and never expects anything from him. He encourages his progression to speak and walk, but doesn’t expect the best out of him.

It’s… nice. A good break if anything.

They are at the park when one of the bats spot him and pauses. Danny is blowing bubbles into the air and Damian tries to pop as many as he can. It’s a silly game with no clear rules, but Damian finds it entertaining nonetheless.

“Hi there! Is he yours?”

Dick Grayson wears a bright smile, but Damian can see the tightness around his eyes.

“Huh? Oh, yea, this is Damian,” Danny answers.

He had written it with the wooden blocks Danny had given him one week in. Danny took one look at the name on the ground, laughed loudly and ran with it.

“Do you mind if I say hi? He’s so cute.”

Danny looks puzzled by the request but ends up shrugging his shoulders, not seeing a problem with letting a stranger get close to Damian. (Damian knew Danny’s intense eyes were watching Dick’s every move. He was very protective like that.)

“Sure.”

Dick squats down to search Damian’s green eyes. Damian stares back just as intensely.

“Hey there, Damian. My name is Dick.”

Damian gives him a flat look at Dick’s terrible introduction.

“Grayson.”

Although with his little baby teeth not fully in it sounds more like ‘way-shah’.

Relief flashes across Dick’s face and he gives Damian a reassuring smile. It’s not as reassuring at he thinks it is. It promises to bring him home and restore him to his original age. Damian doesn’t know if that’s what he wants anymore.

Dick stands and gives Danny some imaginary excuse to leave quickly. Damian watches him go and so does Danny.

“Funny guy, huh Dami?”

Damian doesn’t respond and Danny notices his change in mood.

“Come here, little guy.”

He knows what Danny is going to do and willingly goes. He is pulled up into the man’s lap and held between two surprisingly muscular arms. Danny’s hugs are nice and warm. They aren’t too tight like Dick’s nor are they stiff like Bruce’s. He never thought he could enjoy human contact, but Danny has been showing him things about himself he didn’t ever know. Turns out he does like hugs and playing airplane and when Danny runs his fingers through his hair when he’s really sleepy.

“Let’s go home a little early today, huh? I’ll make spaghetti and you can be as messy as you want,” Danny promises.

Damian hums. Yes, that sounds nice.

That night Batman comes in through the window. Damian is waiting.

“Damian,” Batman whispers.

“Bah-mun.”

The flat, unamused stare is what gives him away.

Batman lets out a breath silently and reaches into the crib Danny had gotten him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Batman jerks into action, twisting to face Danny who had appeared suddenly. The door behind him is still closed.

Batman stays quiet, silently studying the man before him dressed in pajama pants and a worn t-shirt.

Danny tilts his head as he does the same. Damian has never seen the man so serious. He silently worries for the man. He didn’t want him getting hurt to unnecessarily protecting him from his father.

“I’d have to break your arm if you tried to do what it looks like you’re doing.”

Danny says it so plainly. So simple.

Batman straightens.

“He isn’t yours.”

He doesn’t say Damian is his. He doesn’t claim him as his own. Just that Danny shouldn’t have him.

Damian silently agrees because technically he’s right. He doesn’t deserve Danny. He can’t keep playing house like he’s an actual baby. But Damian is also selfish and over the last few months has been taught that it’s okay to ask for things he wants even if it’s not inherently beneficial. The stuffed dog he sleeps with every night is proof of that.

So Damian says nothing.

“He is now,” Danny answers simply like there was no other answer to such a statement.

“He needs to go back to where he belongs.”

“Over my dead body,” is the immediate response.

They stare each other down until Danny scoffs.

“Don’t think I’m not petty enough to fight you, Batman. I’ll fight anyone who wants to take him from me. Damian is mine.”

When Batman tries to forcibly take him, he ends up with a concussion, a blood nose, and two broken arms. Red Robin finds him in a dumpster the next morning.

The story continues with Damian learning how to be a child his age, Danny protecting him and doting on his brilliant son, and the Batfam’s frequent failed attempts to kidnap Damian back to them.

[cyber333angel]

LUMBERJACK!LOGAN X FARMERSDAUGHTER!READER

the two of you would have met for the first time at your fathers house, logan introducing himself as a the new supplier for wood at your families barn. your dad was too busy to go out and buy wood so on a stroll through town he heard about a newcomer being good at exactly that. he shook your hand and he smiled at you, the most charming smile you have ever seen and you introduced yourself shyly as well. you were a little nervous for some reason, probably because you don’t see a lot of people living in the countryside especially handsome ones like this. you go off doing something else and after a couple more minutes of conversation your father calls you back to him and logan, telling you that you needed to show him around and tell him where to drop off the wood when it’s time for deliveries. smiling through your anxiety, you go up to him, “this way mr. howlett, uh this is the-“ and your cut off suddenly, “you can call me logan. no need for the formality.” and you nod, him dropping the professionalism made you feel a little more at ease. “oh alright logan, this way here is the horses stables.” chuckling at your insinuation of his name he watches you as you walk in front of him, white dress swaying side to side as you go farther throughout the land. the whole get-up looks gorgeous on you from head to toe, your little cowgirl hat that covers your braided plaits, the snug dress that hugs your curves and the brown cowboy shows to complete. from this first meeting he knew it was gonna be hard to work for your father, already looking at his daughter this way.

after a few weeks go by your aquatinted with logan, not exactly friends but you had small conversations everytime he came by. watching him as he loaded logs of wood into this shed looking handsome as ever working out like that, your little schoolgirl crush getting bigger at every sneaking glance you took. and one day your father had some business to attend to out of town leaving you alone, telling you to handle all deliveries and duties around the barn without him. so you spend all day taking over the work your dad usually does when you get a call, your dad telling you that logan would be coming in with a late delivery and to help him unload his truck. you were gonna be alone with logan, in your house that was empty, your mind was filled with thoughts but you quickly shooed them away. which was best because logan arrived at the gates thirty minutes later pulling into the driveway with a wave and the same charming smile as always, stepping out of the car in some red flannel and jeans. “hey kid, I see your stepping up to your old man’s jobs now huh?” he says chuckling and you smile walking to the back of his trunk, “yeah for today, ill leave it to you guys to carry pounds of wood every friday afternoon. splinters are not really my forte.” and logan grins, for the past couple of weeks of seeing glances of you during deliveries you weren’t doing manual labor like your father, mostly tending to the garden and taking care of the animals and he thought that naturalistic side of you was absolutely adorable.

you guys make usual small talk while hauling the logs of wood to the shed, dusting your hands. you get an idea to invite logan in after all this hard work, it’s only fair after all the heavy lifting and you both could use something to rejuvenate you. “um if your not busy after this would you want something to drink or eat before you hit the road?” you say, your anxiety creeping up a bit after doing something your not used to like inviting a someone into your home, one you have a crush on at that. logan nods rolling up his sleeves, “yeah thanks I would love a drink.” he says and you lead the way to the house, setting down at the kitchen. “umm we have some soda, water or juice? food wise we have leftovers from dinner yesterday, we could also make a sandwich or have the snacks in the pantry.” none of those really suite logans interest which makes him ask, “you got any beer?” and you think, remembering your dad keeps beer at the lowest part of the fridge, you grab one for him and you, going back and sitting at the island. “thanks kid.” making you smile with a quiet “no problem.” you watch logan crack open the beer with his teeth looking like he did this a million times before and you twist open the bottle with your hand, opting out on breaking your teeth.

the silence between you was very awkward as you trail your eyes at everything around you except logan, suddenly hearing him speak. “you don’t drink?” you look at him confused, his eyes pointing to the beer bottle that only has a sip taken from it. “no not really, it’s more for my dad. the taste is kind bitter to me, but i couldn’t let you drink alone!” you say with a giggle making logan smile as he takes another long swig at his drink. “well thanks for sticking around anyway. i also gotta ask how is it living on a barn miles away from civilization?” logan says poking fun at you once again, “it’s not that far, and it’s nice. very peaceful..although it’s too peaceful sometimes, there’s not many people to talk too out here other than when we go to sell crops.” he thinks for a moment, looking lost in thought as he comes up with a question that almost make you cough out loud. “so I take it that you don’t talk to many boys then huh?”the snarky question making you stare at him in awe, stuttering out an answer. “I have before if you must know, it didn’t go anywhere because he moved away.. but you already know I don’t talk to a lot of people which is s’kind of embarrassing, not having a relationship or a first kiss.. you probably have experienced all that already.” you say the relationship and kiss part quietly, not knowing why you said that in the first place thinking that sip of beer earlier had you out of sorts already.

the news of you not having any relationship was quite surprising to logan, you are such a pretty girl he thought guys would be lining up to date you. “it’s not embarrassing so don’t worry your head about that and sure I’ve had my share of..relationships but it’s nothing special as people make it out to be. if you want I can even help you with your little problem.” he hears himself get carried away with that last sentence, the damage being undoable as you try to think of he really said that. the older man that works for your father, really just said that? “really? you would kiss me?” of course he would kiss you, it’s taking a lot from him to not pounce on you right then and there. and logan just nods, scooting his chair back so you have space to sit. “yeah, come sit. it’s just a kiss.” he says patting at his lap with the beer bottle still in his hand, you hesitate but climb onto the seat making yourself comfortable on his legs. placing one of your arms around his neck for balance, waiting for his next move. “calm down bub your hearts practically beating out your chest.” he says chuckling and you just softly smile, embarrassed he can hear how nervous you are. “ready? don’t be so nervous, y’re okay, doing just fine already baby.” he says that as if that could make you any calmer, sliding his hand on your waist to make you come closer. you’re breathing so hard you could hear the breaths, closing your eyes trying to copy what the girls do in the romance movies you used to watch, and you feel your lips touch his. soft with a faint smell of beer, a very gentle kiss with his rough hand holding the side of your jaw.

you think to yourself how much more you crave from him, not only wanting his lips but it’s too late. he pulls away from the kiss to see you, looking around in your eyes to see if he wasn’t the only one that enjoyed it a little more than he should have. “lemme have a look at ya, how was it bub? hmm, was it good?” you chew the inside of your mouth staring at him, your chest heaving up and down as you try to come up with a way to ask for more. “it was great..” you say dropping your head to his chest, “would you be mad if I wanted t’do it again?” you say quietly, waiting for a response only hoping he wants it as bad as you, and he does, he wants even more than what your thinking of. your jaw is picked up by his hands as logan rests it on your cheek, looking at you so softly. “kid i could would never be mad at you, especially about something like that c’mere.” he says smiling into the kiss, this time going in deeper, sucking on your lips as if he wanted to eat you. beneath you, you feel something hard rising against your heat, pushing through logans jeans and up into your dress. you rub your thighs together trying to relief yourself from the throbbing sensation in your cunt from all this kissing but it doesn’t work, all your commotion alerting logan. “what happened down here bub?” he says rubbing his hand up and down your thighs, getting needier by the minute ypu snap and take logans hand, spreading your legs open and holding it in between your legs. “I need you to touch me lo..” you whine, a newfound nickname you gave him, probably resulting from how needy you were. this was all you needed to say to set him off, the position you were sat in, the pleading eyes and that goddamn sentence just now. he lifts you up wrapping your legs around his waist as he basically ravishes at your lips, growling at you through the kiss walking out the kitchen. “where’s your room?” he says looking like he’s on a mission and your bust out in giggles pointing him up the stairs to your room. you get you your bedroom and logan places you on the bed, you watch him as he takes off his shirt, still kissing you and traveling down all over your body. sucking and biting at your lips he spreads your legs in front of him, grabbing your underwear from underneath your dress and sliding it down your legs making you shiver. “I have to stretch you out a bit alright bub? come sit here.” he says motioning to you for the spot in between his legs, doing as your told you make yourself comfortable, not ever having done this before you let logan guide the way. he rests his hand on your waist, sitting behind you kissing your neck as his other hand travels down your pussy, his rough fingers coated in your slick just from the slight touch. “you really needed my help huh needy girl..” he says whispering, taking two fingers and spreading apart your folds looking at how wet you were. he pushes two digits in and you wince, his thick fingers already feeling so good you can’t even imagine how it would feel when he actually fucks you.

logan keeps thrusts his fingers in and out your cunt as you squirm around in his lap, stimulation sending you over the edge especially with the sweet whispers logan says in your ear. “atta girl, your swallowing up my fingers good bub..” praising you as you whine in his lap grabbing at his neck behind you, “s’enough now logan.. gon-gonna cum!” you say with a sob, you could feel how deep his fingers were stretching you, you could feel his thumb circling around your clit and you could only take so much. “good girl cum on my fingers..” and you do just that, coating his two digits with your mess, leaving a white ring at the base of his fingers. he has you out of breath, your head resting on his chest as you come down from the intensity. logan keeps you close to him, swaying a little back and forth letting you collect yourself, planting kisses on your neck as he slowly removes your white dress. taking the straps off and unzipping it, “up.” he says, wanting you to lift your arms and you do tiredly, you get up from his lap and lay down on your bed staring at logan. you watch as he unbuckles his pants, a bulge prodding and stretching the fabric of his boxers. “we’re gonna take it slow alright, if we go too fast you’ll get hurt so let me take care of you baby..” he’s says to you but you can barely hear, focused on his dick that is now out of his boxers standing tall, wondering if you were too confident and if you can even take all of him. he moves both your legs to be spread out on sides of his body, positioning himself in front of your cunt. “you ready?” logan asks you and you nod, earning a disapproving head shake from logan. “words bub, c’mon.” he says again tapping at your cheek, “yes m’ready logan!” you say, a certain huffiness in your tone just waiting for him to put it in. he pushes the tip of his cock in, already feeling a huge difference from his just his fingers, grunting above you. “fuck baby..so fuckin tight for me..” you can only sob in response, scratching at his back trying to brace yourself for taking in all his length. “hngh it’s s’really big lo!” you say, your body rocking against the bed as he thrust into you, slow strokes into your wet cunt making you feel every inch. “taking me so good sweet girl, so fuckin good..” he says kissing at your neck, being ever so gentle with you as he plows himself into your pussy, your messy cunt being heard all over the room. you feel a tremble in your tummy, the same feeling you got when you were stuffed with logans fingers just a few moments before. grasping at his back you look up at him with needy eyes, the older man locks eyes with you and it’s like he can read your mind. reaching his hand down to your achey cunt and rubbing your clit, he has you quivering under him with your legs shaking. “yeah you gonna cum for me baby hm?”

nodding at him suddenly you let out a gasp, feeling logan press down on your stomach as he’s fully deep inside you, the print of his dick showing in the pudge of your tummy. it makes you whine even more from all the pressure, closing your quivering legs in on his waist from the stimulation and the intense pressure as he snickers above you, “feels good huh bubba..” you cry when he hits that deep spot in you, your hands rushing to his abdomen trying to make him slow down. “w-wait logan please! that’s too much!” and he just smiles down at you, “move your hands, look your already taking me so well..your okay baby c’mon.” he says as you take your arms away hesitantly, the tears in your eyes rolling off your cheek onto the bed. “good girl, see?” taking one of his hands and grabbing the both of yours placing it at the top of your head making it harder for you to squirm, pounding into you as you begin to climax. “m’cumming logan..!” you slur out, unconsciously squeezing around logans length, “fuck me too baby.. give it to me c’mon.” he says wincing, loud squelches echoing in the room as you both cum together, hearing him growl above you feel him filling your hole, grunting as he makes sure you take all of it. you lay there on the bed catching your breath as you come down from your high, logan comes into your view holding your cheek in his hand rubbing it, “did so for me good pretty girl, you wanna get cleaned up?” and you nod your head tiredly, “mm yes please but can you do it for me lo..” you say, eyes already shutting down on you making logan smile, “sure kid.” he says picking you up, walking to the bathroom with you in his arms wondering how the hell is he gonna show up for work with your dad next week.

[cherriesformatt]

vlog day || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: you said yes to being in the vlog while spending time with ur best friends and your boyfriend.

warnings: none

word count: 1,1k

a/n: have a good day ily

🍒

“Are you filming already?” I asked sitting at the table and putting stuff in my purse.

I was cleaning it because I couldn’t find my favorite lipstick anywhere.

“Yes, you said it’s okay if we film the vlog with you right?” Nick asked me and I nodded.

“Yes, yes look guys!” I looked at the camera and brought a gift bag closer to me.

“So I said few days back that I wasn’t feeling that good lately like you know mentally because I had a lot of work and stress. I came in here this morning and this was on the table with my name on it” I showed the bag.

“Look what Chris and Nick got me” I laughed showing the camera the coffee cup with triplets photos on it.

“We know you love coffee so… you know you can look every morning at people who brings you joy in your life” Nick laughed behind the camera.

“Yes and you know what’s the funniest part? They only put one photo of Matt” I said and stood up when I saw Chris coming up with the new Dr Pepper.

“It’s finally here people let’s try it” he said.

“He is constantly talking about it let’s just get over it” I whispered to the camera.

“I found your lipstick honey… oh your filming already?” Matt came from his room.

“Aww Matt you’re not beating lover boy allegations ever again” Chris laughed at him but Matt only rolled his eyes and gave me the lipstick.

“Thank you Matt” I smiled and wanted to peck his lips but I didn’t.

I didn’t want to push that I was already in the vlog. But I was exited and I said yes because us four actually didn’t spent time together for a long time now. So I was excited for some fun with my boyfriend and his brothers.

“Ladies first….”Chris gave me the can.

“Okay because if I die it’s on you…” I say and I took a sip.

It wasn’t bad but also it wasn’t my favorite.

“Meh… it’s okay but I think you and Nick will like it” I gave it back to Chris.

He made his brothers try and they had a talk about it while I went to put my converse on.

When we got into the car I sat in the back with Nick so Chris could be in front of the camera.

“So we don’t know where we’re going yet” Chris said to the camera and we all looked at it surprised it’s on.

“What? I thought we can decide on camera…” he said.

“Let’s go to Melrose I want Happy Ice” Nick said and I clapped my hands.

“Yes! Happy Ice and pizza I’m in” I said and buckled my sit belt.

We were driving with Chris talking all the time and Matt crying about every dog we pass.

“When you explain something is impossible to know what you’re talking about… it’s like I spy game with 5 years old” I told Chris.

“Well I wanted to edge on…”He started.

“Oh you want us to edge you a little? Okay…”Matt said and I gasped.

“Matthew….”I hit his arm playfully.

“Don’t even start y/n” he said and looked at me in the mirror and I winked at him.

“Anyways… how much longer? I need to peepee” I said looking at maps.

“Oh my god you’re worst than Chris sometimes babe” Matt said.

I looked at him and laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“Guys.. that’s what y/n always does. 20 minutes before we left she said she needs to pee but instead going to the bathroom she did like 100 other things and she forgot to go and its like that every time we go out” Matt said.

“Woow sir what is this? Telling each other icks or what?” Nick asked looking at us.

“I would say about her hair in the bathroom everywhere” Matt added.

“Fair enough… I would say about your hair in the sink after you shave and we would be even” I laughed.

“And I would say your underwear under my couch when you guys forget you don’t live alone” Nick said and I covered my mouth with my hand.

“Shut up it was once” I said.

“Nah like three times” Chris said and I covered my whole face with my hands.

“We not putting this in the video and stop making her uncomfortable” Matt laughed.

“We were uncomfortable!” Nick yelled.

“Okay done with my sex life let’s talk about the weather or about how ugly is this persons outfit” I said when we stopped on red.

“Omg but look they are so cute having photo shoot together” Nick said and I smiled.

“Awww look how he’s holding her stuff for her” I said.

When we got to the pizza place I ordered for us and looked at the boys filming in the corner.

“Matt please don’t do that it actually sends shivers down my spine “I told him looking at him opening the water bottle with his teeth.

“Here I need to go to the bathroom” I gave him order numer and went into the toilet.

We ate in the car talking shit about people and than we got to the happy ice and I was holding the camera.

“Guys if he won’t take cherry for me I’m going to break up with him. I told him he needs to guess what I want” I whispered to the camera.

“Here I bought cherry flavored for you?” He came up to me with the desert and I smiled.

“Ah still need that anniversary gift then” I said to the camera when Matt took it from me and looked at me confused but I only smiled at him.

We walked around while we ate and then we came back to the car. While we were driving I saw a very handsome guy and me an Nick made a funny face in the same time looking after him.

“This guy was so hot!!” Nick yelled and I gave him high 5.

“ I knew you’re going to say that!” Chris said.

“y/n I’m not talking to you anymore” Matt said and I made a sad face.

“You love me Matty he was like 4 you are a 10” I said and he smiled.

“So technically you think I’m a 10?” Chris asked.

“Well yes but then you open your mouth” I said and everyone laughed.

When we came home I took my shoes off and sat down on the couch when boys finished up the video.

“Okay we’re done… that was fun thanks for coming with us and filming” nick said and he sat down next to me.

“I had fun too! I hope everyone is not going to kill me for being in the video” I said.

“They’re going to love you” he said and I smiled.

“Movie night?” Matt asked from the kitchen.

“Movie night!” I said happily.

He smiled and me and I hugged a pillow close to me. I was so relaxed after spending day with them. Nick was right. They were my favorite humans in the whole world.

[slut4jeon]

Everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer (jjk)

Officer!Jk x fem reader

Summary: Tiredly calling it a night after attending your workplaces celebration New Year's Eve party. You may have or not ran through a stop sign foolishly thinking no one would have been around to witness it…oh how wrong you were

Warnings: mature (18+), smut, degradation, unprotected sex, Voyeurism, don't read this if this does not interest you!! You have been warned!

I had this prepared early Jan but tumblr didn’t save my writing :(( so I gave up on it lmao. I also really wanted to write smth w tsx jungkook. The police trend w the Lana song gave me inspo for this although the actual trend isn’t in the fic.

-

You were calling it a night, exiting the noisy building that is your workplace. There was a currently a party in the building where your coworkers were celebrating the New Year's.

You were tired. The loud music and chatters annoying you. You chose a safer route tonight, sticking to sparkling cider since you were driving yourselves home tonight.

The cold air hitting your bare skin leaving goosebumps over your entire figure as youstep out into the windy area heading towardsyour parked car.

That's the consequence of wanting to look good and presentable for a celebration, you of course always look stunning. It doesn't hurt to get ready. You were currently sporting a black ysl mini along with a deep v neckline and a pair of matching black pumps. The shoes, also annoying by how sore they left your feet.

Black heels clicking onto the floor as you begin entering your car as you drove into the pitch black night. Admiring the way the twinkling city lights look, along with the lit up buildings and lampposts. You got a little too carried away when you were oblivious to the stop sign you foolishly didn't stop and passed by.

Regret lingered in your chest as you panicked over your foolish action. Perhaps you'd be fine as it is the late night and no cars were present, oh how wrong you were.

The sound of a police siren began ringing as the bright red and blue lights gaining up on the tail of your car. You pulled onto the side of the road swiftly and put your car in park. Your trembly hands gripping both hands onto the steering wheels most definitely leaving your palms and knuckles white. That's when you heard 3 knocks on your left side window.

"Shit" you muttered. Feeling a rise of mixed movement in your lower belly as you begin lowering your window. There you met the gaze of a handsome officer.

"Driving late on New Years Day? When everybody's drinking and celebrating tonight. License and registration." He spewed with a hint of sarcasm.

"Yes, of course." Your hand quickly traveled to your glove compartment pulling out the documents. Then, pulled your license from your clutch.

As he inspected you couldn't help but gaze at him. His raven black sleek parted hair showing off a bit of forehead. His black button up dress shirt that was tucked in the matching black jeans, and rolled up from the sleeves stopping before the elbows to show off his meaty arms that were covered in artworks of tattoos.

The stern look he holds as looking at your documents. The burrowed brow and line wrinkles in between the brows. He was attractive, godly attractive.

"Step out the vehicle for me" he said. You did as told

You couldn't help but gaze at him. He was an attractive specimen. But soon you were ripped out of your thoughts.

"Walk along that yellow line"

"Officer I'm not drunk or anything of the sor-" you were interrupted

"You were given instructions. I expect you to follow them." he bluntly said

Obeying his words you stepped foot onto the yellow line. The cold air doing you no justice as you were trembling from it.

What you weren't aware of was how he stared at your ass that was threatening to spill out of the little piece of flimsy material you call a dress.

Turning around, his gaze caught you off guard at how he stared at you as a helpless little fawn about to be hunt down by a hungry wolf.

"I'm gonna pat you down. Step right by the car for me, palms flat onto the vehicle", he demanded.

Swiftly obeying, you got into position. Beginning his pat down inspection from head to toe. His muscular hands roamed over your body. You wondered whether your goosebumps was from the cold wind or his slithering fingers tracing over your open skin.

As he got lower and lower, padding the waist and soon hips he made sure to grope onto your flesh just in case of any dangerous possessions.

You were a whimpering mess, biting into your bottom lip to suppress any noise coming out of your mouth. The attractive officer had an effect on you. Especially when passing your thighs and ankles, rising back to the top his movement slowed as he reached back to your thighs.

You let out suppressed mewls as his fingers inched towards your inner thighs. Your legs were gonna give up at any threatening moment. You questioned whether he caught onto your reaction to his touch.

His fingers were dangerous close to your soaking cunt. You were took aback at his touch you could not longer suppress the noises that urged to come pass your lips. Your heat was aching for his touch.

He took notice to your glistening folds in with your juices threatening to spill out of your wine red lace panties. The officer could no longer resist the temptation of the sweet treat in front of him.

Riding your dress a bit up his face inched closer to your cunt, nose and all. Hooking his fingers onto your panties and pushing them aside, he ate you out from behind. Your knees about to give in as he ate your pussy like a starved man. His tongue lapped over your clit playing with the cute bud left you a whiny mess.

"Please” you voiced out quietly

How cute, the officer thought. His fingers lathered your juices, leaving them coated and dripping. The sudden intrusion of his long fingers intruding into the tight ring of your hole.

With your mouth agape, your mind was left into a frenzy at how good the officer worked his fingers into your soaking cunt.

"Clenching onto my fingers, aren't you a little eager thing?", he said

You looked back to him to see his pretty pouty lips all swollen and tinted from eating you out. Your juices trailing down his chin and neck. He looked too edible.

He sensed you were near as your gummy walls clamped onto his fingers. Quickly pulling them out and robbing you of your release you mewled at the empty feeling.

You were a minx he thought. His cock hardening and imprinting his jeans. The feeling got only tighter as his fingers savored the taste of your pussy juices that coated his index and middle.

He needed more. Turning your body swiftly around the officer face to face with you connected both mouths together. His hands sneaked onto your hips and lower onto your ass making sure to grip the plumpy flesh.

You couldn't help out moan into his mouth as you both were in ecstasy. You needed more.

"Need to fuck that pussy, will you let me pretty thing?", who were you to deny him?

Eagerly nodding your head in confirmation. "Words, pretty", the officer said

"Please fuck me", you said in a desperate manner. That's all it took for him to roughly turn you around and begin grinding his hard length into your ass.

Desperate for friction you pushed out for him, like a bitch in heat. Your dress being a nuisance for him he unzipped you, freeing your bare body to be in display of his hungry eyes.

You wore no bra as the dress had padding, all you were left in was your wine lace panties. His lips traveled from your neck to breasts. Scattering marks as if he were leaving burns.

The way his teeth clamped onto your bud, sucking and pulling. Something about the way you were fully bare at his mercy as he remained fully clothed while he played with your pussy had you rubbing your thighs together.

"Officer please, fuck me!", you could no longer take it.

He smirked at your eagerness. Finding it humorously cute at how much of a cock hungry whore you are.

Your ears perked at the noise of him fumbling with his belt. His cock sprung free fully erect as he began aligning it to your entrance.

"O-oh! Fuck.., officer!", you blabbered incoherently as the intrusion of his length stretched your hole.

"-shit, such a tight little pussy", his pace greedily fastened.

You were a mess. All that was heard in the quiet night was the way he rammed his cock into your pussy. Balls slapping against your clit.

"Such a whore you are, aren't you? You like getting rammed from behind by an officer out in the outdoors?" he said as he continued abusing your cunt.

"Who would've thought a pretty thing like you was such a dirty slut, huh?" Your walls clenched by each word coming out of his filthy mouth.

"yes!yes!yes!", he fucked you deliciously good, your orgasm threatening to approach with his current pace.

You were cock drunk. Barely paying any kind of attention to the fact you were getting rammed out in public. Any person or car could pass by but your mind would only be focused on the way his dick drilled at a relentless speed.

His fingers sinked to your clit, rubbing your bud provoking your body to tremble in ecstasy of how he worked wonders on your body.

"Sir, i-it's too much!"

"You can take it ,baby. Milk my cock, make a mess.”

His words were perfectly on cue. Creaming his cock in your release. Falling limp into his arms. His release wasn't too far off yours. Head leaning into your neck as both of your panted. Silence went on for a few minutes before he helped with re-dressing you.

The officer broke the silence, "So, the names Jungkook. Could we perhaps exchange numbers, I'd like to take you out sometime soon.”

- end

[heavndoll]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒.

pairings — fem!reader and rafe cameron.

summary — after rafe takes your life, he tries to move on, and simply pretends he’s the one who didn’t do so. eventually, hauntings and truths will lay themselves out to remind rafe just how sickening he is.

warning tags — adult language. details of gruesome m*rder & m*rder itself. mentions of DV relationship, (brief) child ab*se & awful parents. talks of religion and god. reader’s pov from heaven (?? just stick w the program). rafe actually going more insane than usual. overall dark content.

author’s note — this is based on and inspired by ethel cain’s song ‘strangers’ and while this song has multiple interpretations to go by, i’m taking mine by the main and common one (just without the c*nnibalism!). this also gets super dark and depressing so if you cannot bear any of it, please click off! this also isn’t revised at all so my apologies for grammar mistakes.

likes, shares & reblogs are very much appreciated ⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ

you had tears in your eyes, body shaking to point you thought you’d convulse. you tried to be obedient by keeping in rafe’s secret of what he had done on that tarmac. he beat you to make sure you kept your mouth shut for good.

he said, “i’ll kill you if you say one word,” and it took enough fear to believe him, but you didn’t think that day would come.

murder is an evil thing, and everyone can attest to it. rafe murdered sheriff peterkin as if she was nothing, as if she was a problem in the way. bad enough, he let john b. routledge — one of your best friends — take the fall for it.

you continued to keep your mouth shut, but after rafe tried to invade the police, ward killing himself, you didn’t see a reason to keep quiet. ward was the only reason why rafe could stay out of prison, and now that he wasn’t around, you could speak.

your father preached every sunday to live by righteousness and good, to never let evil win.

rafe was that evil. he was the devil himself.

the devil that you danced with, let make love to you, kiss you, but also beat you until stars twinkled in your vision, and your breath kept getting caught in your throat.

your mother would be horrified to know that, your father too. but it was their fault in a way that you accepted this cruelty as love; your father, especially to blame.

if love is not meant to be hit at you, does it even exist? your father showed you that when he’d slap or punch you for falling out of line, but go to church the next day, and preach about being a good servant to god.

you wanted all evil out of your life. it was suffocating, it was drowning you.

rafe had to be eliminated first.

“you killed peterkin, and i’m tired of knowing it,” you said, picking up your car keys. “we are done, and i won’t even show up to your trial when you go down for it.”

rafe just stared at you appalled and puzzled, sitting on the edge of his bed. you were close to being far out enough to your car until strong, violent hand seized you.

you screamed and kicked, not being new to this routine, only knowing that he was going to harm you.

you could never predict that his violence would lead him to murdering you.

“let me go, rafe!” you screamed, being pulled inside, your pleas and cries echoing in the empty home.

expecting to be physically berated, you were being led downwards.

to the wine cellar basement.

and for once in a while, you prayed to god, and hoped he would finally listen to you this time. that he would save his child, and perform a miracle.

but a miracle never came as rafe manhandled you, pinning you down on the cement ground of the basement.

“shut the fuck up! stop crying!” he yelled, a solid punch coming to your cheek, and you yelped, an easy gush of blood rushing out of your mouth. “you’re a fuckin’ backstabber. after everything i’ve done for you, gonna treat me like that?”

you cried, shaking your head. “r—rafe, please! i’ll be good, i’ll stop!”

“don’t trust you, little one. can’t let you ruin everything,” rafe said, reaching for something out of his back pocket.

the more you fought back, the more angry he got; the more you fueled the fire that rested in his hands and body.

before you could let out another plead, a sharp pain was made into your abdomen.

rafe stabbed you — and he wasn’t planning on stopping there.

god wasn’t there. you would show up to his gates in this condition, and ask him why he let it happen. if god is real, why did he bear witness instead of saving you?

rafe doesn’t recall killing you.

he remembers grabbing, and dragging you down into wine cellar basement, but couldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened after that. all he knows your blood was quite literally on his hand, knife shaking in his grip.

your babydoll white dress was now stained with violence and scarlet red blood.

the sight should’ve made him sick, but it didn’t. he just stared at you, breathing heavy, and it didn’t strike him until a while later that he had killed you.

rafe cameron had killed the love of his life.

he only panicked when it came to how to dispose your body, take off any evidence that could trace back to him. he was more than willing to dump your body in the woods, let any gators eat at you for supper.

he tossed your body only hours later in the depths of the woods, and it didn’t take long until you were reported missing.

of course, he was questioned first. it was easy for him to play the concerned boyfriend, crying because he also hadn’t heard from you, saying he had been texting and calling you for hours.

your parents sobbed on the news and asking anyone to come forward with any information, that they’ll give up however much money for their child to come home.

rafe just stared numbly at the television screen, a cup of scotch in his hand.

your best friends, the pogues, sobbed for days, and even started a search party for you. rafe made sure to dig you levels down in those woods when the ground was wet enough to dig up, and cover you up.

sarah cameron had a feeling her brother had something to do with your ‘disappearance’ but it was only just a gut intuition, she couldn’t prove it. she always questioned why you got with her brother, always emphasizing how horrible and violent he was, but you would tell her, “you don’t know him like i do; you don’t know how much he loves me, and takes care of me.”

kiara knew how bad rafe was — for god sake, she momentarily went to the academy around the same time he was a senior. she knew he wasn’t destined to be a boyfriend, let alone even in a fucking relationship.

the boys of the group were beyond furious, the three wanting to round up and take ahold of rafe, beat some information out of him. but they knew you wouldn’t want that, and that rafe would easily get the police to arrest them.

however, months passed, and you slowly became a memory to not only the town, but to rafe himself. he went on with his days like nothing occurred, that he didn’t violently take the life of his girlfriend.

you weren’t on his mind anymore, and he didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

or so he thought.

karma and revenge go hand in hand together; they mingle and burst out, they make sure they arrive at the doorstep of the people who deserve it.

rafe always thought getting rid of you would avoid his downfall, but the murder of you was just the beginning of it all.

he slept peacefully like he had done for a while now, with him about to drown into a deep sleep. he rested with his hands laid atop of his stomach, comfortable and at solitude, a female whisper woke him up.

he peeked around, but saw no one. he assumed he was just sleep deprived and imagining things, his eyes closing again for sleep.

“do you feel sick yet?” the voice that sounded like yours came through, more clearer and visible. he shot up, and turned on his bedside lamp.

nothing. no one. not you.

why would he have to feel sick? you were gone, you were no longer a problem.

rafe shook it off, and was able to go back to sleep.

you were angry in the afterlife. you stared at rafe from heaven, trembling with rage and regret. a man you once loved, had acted as if you never existed. you adored him, and he disposed you like garbage.

you just wanted to be his, wanted him to tell you that you were his only; that he loved you as much as you did to him, that he would change and better himself for you.

that the violence would dissipate, and his rough hands would be nurtured with love and softness.

but no. that never came, and never would.

you were taunted by your murder, burning with the need to remind rafe of how sick he was.

your violent lover let you bleed before him, and without tending to your wounds or simply sitting with immediate regret, he soaked in his actions and dismissed it.

why couldn’t he be gentle? was him painting you blue and purple not enough? did he have to go as far as killing his lover to satisfy the disdain and vexation he held for you?

was that enough? was that enough to make you enough?

rafe’s nights slowly turned interrupted and sleepless. your voice was always there, and time to time, he thought he saw you standing in his bedroom, drenched in blood and with tears streaming down your face as you kept asking him, “do you feel sick yet?”

sick. not regretful. fucking sick.

sleep deprivation was catching up to him, making him more mean and angry than usual, more out of control.

the coke wasn’t even helping either, only making everything worse.

he was at barry’s trailer, snorting endless lines of the white powder, trying to shake off the sight of you from last night.

“country club, you good?” barry asked, and rafe didn’t respond. “you don’t seem well, bro.”

“just need this shit, okay?” rafe mumbled, separating another drop of cocaine. “just… just want to sleep, need it.”

barry didn’t want to push him with more questions, minding his own business as the blond haired boy snorted up excessive amounts of lines.

rafe ended falling asleep on his couch, barry mindlessly scrolling on his own phone as he laid down on his bed.

the cold air from the air conditioner ran around in the basement, making it more freezing and chilling than usual.

rafe could smell strawberry perfume, indicating you were around. he looked around, and saw nothing of you.

“where are you!” he screamed. “you can’t scare me, you bitch!”

“i’m not here to scare you,” you talked, rafe spinning around to find you perched in the corner of the basement. you careened closer, the dim light emphasizing on your mangled body.

rafe stared at your stomach, where immense stab wounds laid on it. he swallowed thickly, his breath shaking and jagged.

“do you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe looked up at you. he couldn’t move in this dream, he was paralyzed and a witness to your lacerated body.

nausea and despair washed over rafe, almost consuming him entirely.

you were finally face to face with him, your hair disheveled and bunched, face stained with tears and runny makeup, all for him to look at.

rafe could feel your physical touch, your soft hand grabbing his, and made his palm touch your abdomen. he almost fucking threw up.

you could see it, you could see he was wanting to vomit everywhere. “am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe shivered, forcing his hand to put more pressure on your stomach, blood rushing out onto it. “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe screamed and lurched up, his eyes opening and alarming barry. “woah, what the fuck, rafe!” barry shouted, and rafe breathed rapidly, his heart thumping against his chest, a need to vomit.

rafe brought his face into his hands, trying to shake everything out of his hand.

your face, your touch, your blood — he felt it all. he was being reminded of you, when he didn’t want to.

barry kept asking him what was wrong, why he was crying, if he was okay, but all rafe could focus on was your voice asking, “am i making you feel sick?”

he was no longer immune to his destruction. he was becoming infected by it. you were a disease that he couldn’t treat, a parasite that ate at his brain.

he would never get rid of you — and you would make sure that he never did.

it was month seven without you, and you became a faded name to the outer banks. the only people who lived on to tell your name was your parents, and your best friends. the pogues carved your name into the chateau’s tree, a ceremonial bench placed at the high school.

your body or you weren’t ever discovered, but the police had listed you as deceased. you weren’t a runaway, you were eighteen, and had nothing to runaway for. when you couldn’t be traced anywhere on the grid, the police pronounced you dead, and that was that.

pictures of you and any sort of evidence remained in a cardboard box somewhere in the police station. you were left to rot in every way.

you were tired of being forgotten, but more exhausted that nobody knew that your boyfriend did this, and you probably weren’t going to be the first girl he killed.

rafe cameron needed to know what he did, and you wanted to do everything you could to make him drag himself to the police station, sit down, and say, “i killed her — and i enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

madness was becoming rafe. he was already an insane, depraved fuck before, but the lack of sleep and memories of the murder were catching up to him for good.

dark circles were around his eyes, hair greasy and messy, his body tired. he felt like he was going to snap any second.

he kept drinking, smoking weed and doing coke back to back, surprised that his heart didn’t give out yet.

a random exhaustion toll pushed over him, laying him down on the floor of his bedroom, and his eyes threatened to snap shut.

he didn’t want to sleep, he was afraid to. he was afraid to see you, with your bloody dress and sad face, making him touch your wounds.

rafe didn’t win the fight of sleeping, and he knocked out cold on his bedroom floor.

he wasn’t in the basement, he was in his bedroom, and he could hear your feet padding away to the front of the house, to your car.

oh, he was reliving the night. and he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t get out of the memory — he was facing everything.

he saw you bloody by his doorframe, and you tilted your head. “why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he was trapped in a void.

you only frowned. “so you know.”

like a reflex, rafe hurriedly rushed over to you outside before you could get away, seizing you away, and taking you to the basement.

he pinned you down to the ground, and screamed at you to stop crying, upset and angry you were willing to betray him when he did everything for you.

you were sobbing, but it became echoes and his ears rang, everything around him becoming silent except his own heavy breathing. he grabbed the knife that sat in his pocket, and he could see your eyes widen with fear to the sight of the object.

“rafe!” you screamed in the first stab. he hit you sharp and right in the abdomen.

he held his knife there for a second, like time was freezing him, and he felt a hot breath at the side of his face.

it was you.

“am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe proceeded to stab you as you sobbed. you cried out his name, trying to fight away the knife, promising to be good and for him to stop.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

rafe couldn’t stop, he couldn’t control himself. he kept stabbing you as you screamed. he was a monster, with the inability to suppress his anger or violence.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

a part you thought you were making him feel sick because of how mutilated your body was; that the body he was once desired, was now filling him with disgust. you wondered if how butchered you looked, was making him uncomfortable and sick. he didn’t deserve your concern, but it happened anyway. was it making him sick?

rafe wanted to cry, but couldn’t. he was revisiting the person he was in this moment, and could see life vanish from your eyes, death taking you away.

he took one last stab, and held it there like the first one. you kneeled in front of him, looking over at your corpse for a moment before your eyes settled into his raging ones.

he held prolonged eye contact with you as you inched your face close to his, but kept a safe distance. you placed your hand on top of his murdering one, and with a blank face, lastly asking him, “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe broke eye contact with you to look at your deceased body, and realized and remembered this murder. your organs could be nearly seen, blood gushed and poured out everywhere, your body cold and still.

he dropped the knife, and eyed you. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, and sighed. “you will revisit this everyday as long as you live,” you said, sniffling. “all i wanted was to be yours, and be good enough, rafe. was i no good?”

he didn’t have an answer, and with that, you got up, staring over at your body. “i want you to know,” you chuckled softly to yourself, “i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. i forgive you, especially since i’m happier where i’m at.”

“heaven?” rafe asked.

you nodded. “you won’t make it here, but i’ll still hope and wait that you do — because i love you too much to let god be angry with you too.”

“he’s an angry man?”

“he’s angry and unfair,” you responded. “like someone i know. i loved god, i loved you; two men who didn’t view me as much, who don’t deserve for me to believe in them.”

rafe went quiet, and enough time went by for you to disappear for good to let rafe cry, and scream. he cried and sobbed, dry heaving as he vomited everywhere to the sight of you.

he killed you, and as long as he kept it to himself, you would drive him mad and insane with the knowing of it.

rafe cameron confessed to your murder only hours later. he drove himself to the police station, and confessed to every detail, telling sheriff shope where your body was.

they found your maimed body in the exact location where rafe told them it was, your body already decomposing into near bones, eaten by critters and bugs.

the earth was consuming you.

he was hated forever, the town wanted him torched or given the death penalty. it would be a while until he got a trial.

your funeral could be proper with your body in a casket, given a rightful way to be down in the ground, protected and secured by a box stuffed with silk fabric.

you could see your mom cry, and you wish she wouldn’t. your father had to give the prayer at your funeral, your best friends sobbing, and hating themselves for not getting you away from rafe sooner.

however, your death was simply inevitable. if rafe didn’t kill you, your love for him would. he was everything to you.

even when he was murdering you — getting a vile satisfaction from it — you were worried about him, if you and your maimed body was making him feel more nauseous and sick than the actual murder was.

rafe would live with the knowing that you truly loved him, and he took your life every single day that he spent in a prison block cell.

and your ghost would continue to linger and haunt him, never letting him know peace and serenity as he never did to you.

[hubbypossession]

There's nothing quite like the first takeover of a jock after a gym session in the morning. As a ghost forever stuck to wander the world, invisible to others, it can get quite lonely. Luckily, I discovered a way to rectify this problem. Sure, maybe no one will remember my real name, but why does that matter if I can be whoever I want. Yesterday I possessed a sexy beefcake dad at the gym, working out his ripped body to stay in shape. It was fun to show off his muscles and body at the gym. I could never pull this look off while alive.

This morning I actually ended up possessing a young woman coming into the gym on accident. Well, there's a first for everything. It was fun to explore my unfamiliar body and walk around in someone else's shoes so different from mine. I had no idea how to act like her though. I also wasn't used to the lack of stamina compared to the dad I hopped into yesterday. To top it off, her boyfriend was sexting her while I worked out. I sent back a few pictures but sadly I couldn't leave the gym grounds or I'd get pushed out of my body.

I saw this hot jock working out at the machines and I knew I had to have him. I enticed him with a few glares from my feminine body and he seemed to notice. We hit it off right away and he wanted to have a bit of fun. Oh yeah boy, I'll have some fun with you. Let's just hope this body's boyfriends doesn't find out.

I followed him out to his car and we made out as I sat in his passenger seat. He fondled my breasts and wanted to explore my body. I let him since it wasn't really mine to begin with. The way his thick hands touched me sent shivers down my spine and excited me. As we made out and I climbed on top of him, I couldn't help but admire what would soon be mine. I even shoved my face in his pits to get a whiff at one time which seemed to startle him.

I thought the best way to exit my body would be a blowjob. I went down on his manhood and took it all in my mouth as he moaned. With a final shove, I exited my female body and slithered into his dick, filling him up with my essence.

"OH FUCK!" He moaned out as he felt me invade him. "What are you?! Get out of me!"

As he groaned out and started to shake, I began to exert control over him as I filled out his body, feeling more comfortable in this form. With a final push, I invaded his head and took control.

"Ohhh yeahhh..." I groaned out in my new voice as I woke up. "I'm you dude. Thanks for the body. Sorry I had to get creative to get in here. I'll take good care of you - hope you don't mind being gay for awhile."

I began to flex my pecs through my tank top as I shoved the girl off my lap. I looked in the rearview mirror and admired my new look. I started jerking my cock as I lifted my arm up and inhaled my new sweaty musk, getting extremely hard and leaking all over. I exploded with cum all over my new car as I moaned out. I shot ropes all over my clothes as I continued basking in my new glory.

[sl0t4matt]

m. guiu bf! head canons (requested)

❀ he‘s crazy about you.

❀ his friends like to tease him about how obsessed he is with you but he doesn’t care. how could he not? in his eyes you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on. outside and inside.

❀ he doesn’t want to spend his time with anyone that isn’t you.

❀ “marc! we’re gonna go out to eat with the team. you know, to celebrate tonight’s win.”

❀ “i’m okay, my girl is waiting for me.” he would say.

❀ you on the other hand like to also go out with your friends, since you never want to be that person, that does nothing with her friends anymore just because she’s dating someone.

❀ marc understands and waits in your bed for you, or calls hector out, since he’s always pissed marc completely neglects him when you’re around him.

❀ he just can’t help it. he’s head over heels for you. you got him charmed.

❀ you always send thirsty edits of him to him on tiktok.

❀ “fuck i look good.” he would say.

❀ but oh, can he be a part of the sassy man apocalypse. hitting you with comebacks you wouldn’t have even thought about. not even just that he would hit you with smart ass remarks. he was good with them. leaving you speechless sometimes.

❀ one thing about marc is he will spoil you. no matter how many times you tell him not to. that you do not need that prada bag on your pinterest board. it seems to be going in one ear and out of the other because he has almost bought you your whole pinterest wishlist.

❀ one of his most expensive gifts would be the catier bracelet that has his name engraved on it. you wear it every day to show everyone off but also feel close to him no matter where he is.

❀ you were so mad at him for buying it at first because of the price and how you don’t need all of that. that he’s enough. but he says he “wanted to” and shushes you.

❀ you’re his passenger princess.

❀ you have all of your lip products in his car. it almost looks like it’s your car.

❀ he always lets you put on your playlist since you think his music taste is shit.

❀ you influenced him though, because now he knows almost every song of your favourite artists and also listens to them while practice.

❀ he gets you your favourite flowers on every date you guys have. you could say it’s his love language to surprise you with flowers. even if the both of you just lay in your bed and watch a movie.

❀ when he’s coming to your house, he not only brings you flowers but also your mom and sweets for your siblings.

❀ another one of his love languages is physical touch. from only holding your waist in room full of people to kissing up your thighs as he goes down on you.

❀ he loves giving you head and tasting you. you think it gives him some sort of ego boost to please you.

❀ he also thinks it’s so hot when you wear his barca jersey while riding him. when you tried it for the first time it was just for fun wanting to try something new. you moaned “visca barca” in his ear, meaning for it to be funny. but he took it seriously and came three seconds after you said it. (😭)

❀ “please ma keep it on!” he would groan.

❀ can be such a whiny bitch sometimes when it comes to waiting to fuck you.

❀ it doesn’t help he would get hard at the most random moments.

❀ you lean into marc, your hand steading yourself on his leg to kiss him. your soft lips meet his for a few seconds then pull on his bottom lip teasingly.

❀ “let’s go in!” you pat his leg, leaning back in the seat as you wait for marc to open the door for you like he always does.

❀ “i-. uhm. can’t.” he coughs. you laugh loudly. “marc!! again?” you shake your head. “you’re pathetic!” you tease him laughing.

❀ you look down at the tent growing in his pants. “you’re not helping!” he groans his head falling back.

❀ “you want me to help you?” you poke his chest, winking. he sighs looking out. people won’t see us due to his black windows anyways.

❀ “fuck yeah. please do.”

❀ like said he loves you wearing his jersey that also speaks for the matches. it gives him strength to win, so you make sure that the barca jersey you’re wearing has the number 38 printed on it.

❀ you’re an emotional mess on his games. one time you’re celebrating that your boyfriends team scored, the other you’re cursing the refs and opponents.

❀ no one wants to face you when marc is scoring a goal. you’re going full crazy. yelling and chanting his name like an embarrassing mom. clapping and jumping like you’re completely mental.

❀ he points up to the bleachers to you, taking every opportunity on dedicating the goal to you. he would blow a kiss and you’d do the same after calming yourself down.

❀ you have a ritual for after the game. when the both of you come back from the game, you would give him a little reward for scoring ;)

❀ though it’s not really a valid one because when he loses, you try releasing his anger with doing the same thing.

❀ he would drag your hair while you give him head due to his anger.

❀ after completely ruining you he would apologise like the soft boyfriend he is.

❀ “sorry if i was too rough, baby.” he would say looking down on you.

❀ “it’s okay.” you would smile, eyes still glossy.

❀ after, you would lay your head on his chest and force him to stroke your arm until you fall asleep.

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 6- Apologies ☕️

You’ve woken up to the sounds of the birds chirping and the morning sun peaking in through the windows. You would’ve loved waking up in the giant room provided by Ayaka, if only you weren’t so violently hung over.

The feeling of being incredibly nauseous while remembering some of the memories from last night, started hitting you like a semi truck.

Why did you have to drink so much? You’re never drinking again.

You always say this but never actually stick through with your word.

You loved being drunk but hated the consequences that come the next morning. Your phone was buzzing with new messages. Have you always hated the sounds of notifications? Or was it the headache talking? Annoyed, you checked your phone.

Bergrudgingly, you got up. As soon as you stood up however, you felt like you needed to throw up.

Quickly, you rushed to the toilet. Expecting for something to come out. Nothing did.

“I hate being hungover.” You quickly muttered before making your way to the dining room.

You noticed everyone had arrived before you. They all looked like shit. Including you. Mona was in deep explanation of how she read Yae’s birthchart. Apparently the woman has a lot of baggage.

You sat down in between Hu Tao and Mona.

Ayaka handed you a bowl of miso soup, “It’s for your hangover. You look rough.” She smiles.

You quietly thank her. The miso soup looks good but were you able to eat this without throwing it back up? You took your chances and fed yourself.

Luckily you didn’t.

Before you could finish the soup, Hu Tao turned towards you.

“So are you going to explain what happened last night?” She questioned.

You cleared your throat and explained your experience at the party. From start to finish. Everyone had listened intently to your story. Someone would occasionally gasp.

.

.

.

“Well he sure does know how to act like he cares about someone.” Mona mentioned. Scaramouche is actually a good actor.

It seems like he practiced on you the most.

As you were showing the group the texts you sent to Scaramouche and Childe, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Childe. Everyone began freaking out.

“Shit what do I say??” You were panicking because you didn’t really expect him to answer.

“Maybe an apology?” Lynette suggested.

So fucking annoying.

He’s so fucking annoying.

How can he be like this? Why was he being like this? You heavily sighed. The audacity of this man.

Lynette looked up at you, “Is everything alright?”

You put your phone in the middle of the table and stood up.

“Yes. Everything is so perfect.” You replied sarcastically, “Ayaka thank you for the breakfast and sleepover. Have fun everyone reading those stupid ass texts. I’ll be getting ready to leave.”

When the words left your mouth, you walked away and towards the room you were sleeping in.

As you were packing up you heard a knock at the door.

It was Hu Tao. She was returning your phone.

“I’m so sorry Y/n. He’s such a big dick. You don’t deserve this. She pulled you into a hug.

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it. It’s how he is.” You reassured her.

She helped you pack the rest of your stuff.

You then said goodbye to everyone and got inside your car.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: Hi I’m back! Ik its been a few days but I haven’t been feeling the best so I took a while to update. I’m still sick but I feel better enough to update even if this chapter was a bit short. Another written chapter I hope you guys like it!! Also pls ignore the typo in furina’s text I meant to put ‘parties’ 😭

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @veekoko @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy

[inthe-dark-tonight]

Falling Into My Sins

chapter six: i wanna be the one

dbf!joel x fem!reader series - loosely inspired by the song skin by soccer mommy

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

summary: joel tries to keep you off his mind while he has the house to himself on a friday night, until tommy shows up after your second date.

word count: 3.8k

series rating: E (18+ mdni)

warnings: joel’s pov, alcohol consumption, joel jerks it, mentions of blood/cleaning a wound, jealous!joel, tommy boasting a little bit

notes: well…… long time no see…. sorry for the extremely long wait on this chapter, life has been insane :,) special thanks to my tumblr mom @pr0ximamidnight for reading this chapter for me, ilysm you have no idea <3 i also hit a new follower milestone a little bit ago so thank you to everyone who follows & reads/interacts with any of my fics it means the world to me, truly 🤍 enjoy and let me know what you think of this chapter!!

It’s ten of eight and Tommy will be here any minute to pick you up. You spent all day wondering where he was planning to take you, and when you asked all he told you was to wear something nice. You check your bag one last time before leaving your room, glancing at your messages to see if Tommy texted you but all you see is an unread message from Joel this morning that reads Hey, I’ll be home tonight if you wanna stop by, i’d still really like to talk.

After staring at it for a moment, you shove your phone into your bag, closing your bedroom door behind you and heading down the stairs. Your dads not home tonight, which meant you thankfully wouldn’t be questioned about your date. When you get to the bottom of the stairs, you decide to wait on the porch for Tommy to get here. As you reach for the door knob and tug the door open, a gust of cool air pushes the door towards you, revealing a surprised Tommy standing there with his hand raised like he was about to knock on the door.

“Oh,” he says in a surprised tone. “Was just about to knock.” He lets out a small laugh.

Your cheeks heat up a little in embarrassment. “Sorry.” You let out a small laugh as well, smiling up at him.

As you step out, pulling the door shut behind you, Tommy’s eyes are glued to you. He clears his throat. “You look great.” he pauses for a moment. “I mean you always look great but-” he cuts himself off with a nervous laugh as he waits for your response.

Your cheeks warm up slightly at his words. “Thank you.” your eyes fall to the ground as you step off your front porch and start towards Tommy's truck.

Tommy walks beside you, hand lightly resting on your lower back to guide you as the two of you near the car. He moves his hand from your back as he reaches out to grab the door and you smile at him as he watches you step in and gently closes the door. You watch him, a small smile still on your face as you watch him round the front of the car and step in before taking off towards downtown.

Joel has the house to himself for once, which is quite rare for a Friday night. Sarah is staying over at a friend's house and normally Tommy would stop by for a beer or two, but he hasn't tonight, leaving Joel to finish a six pack on his own as his mind wanders. When he's working or around people, usually other women, he does a pretty good job at suppressing any thoughts of you, but when he's on his own there's no stopping his mind from drifting to thoughts of you.

Since even before the last time Joel saw you he had told himself he would stop seeing other women, he hadn't slept with any of them, only taken them out to try and keep his mind off you. But now he knew there was no use in trying to stop the way he was feeling, he needed to talk to you and tell you all of this, but you're impossible to get a hold of. He knows it's because of the way he's been acting, and rightfully so. The way he lied, telling you it was noting more than a fuck, showing up on dates with other women in front of you, it was all in an attempt to try and ignore the attraction he felt towards you.

Joel takes one last swig of beer, finishing the bottle off before setting it on the wooden coffee table in front of him and looking at the time, nine twenty. He lets out a sigh, standing up from his place on the couch and grabbing the cardboard pack full of empty bottles from the table. Once he starts walking towards the kitchen to discard the bottles his head feels a bit fuzzy, the effects of the alcohol finally setting in.

He walks slowly towards the stairs, holding onto the railing the whole way up and walking immediately towards his bathroom, leaving the door open a crack before turning on the shower. As the water warms up and steam slowly starts to fill the room, he unbuttons his jeans quickly removing them before placing a hand on the counter for support as his head continues to spin, flashes of you appearing when he closes his eyes. The way you looked the night the two of you first met, skin glistening and glowing under the colorful lights in the club as you swayed your hips enticingly. He can still remember so clearly the way that the heat of your body felt pressed up against him, how warm your skin was as he let his hands wander, the way your soft plush lips moved so naturally with his own.

Before Joel can stop it, he begins to feel a heat creeping up his chest and a stiffness growing in his boxers. A low grunt leaves his mouth as he looks down at himself. Damnit. He looks back at his reflection in the foggy mirror, broad shoulders slumped over and tired eyes staring back at himself as he lifts his hand to swipe over the condensation on the mirror. How much longer can he keep doing this? Jerking off to the thought of you at least once a week. How much longer can he go without touching your skin with his own hands? His imagination can only keep his desires at bay for so long.

“Fuck.” he exhales. This isn't helping.

Joel pushes himself off the counter and grabs the back of his shirt, pulling it up over his head in one swift motion and discarding it on the floor before carefully slipping out of his boxers. He groans as he pulls the fabric over his now fully hard cock and lets them fall to the floor. As he steps out of where they are pooled around his feet and towards the hot shower, he lets out a deep sigh before pulling back the shower and stepping into the thick steam.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth as the hot water beats down onto his throbbing cock before turning his back towards the running water. For a moment he stands there, eyes closed as he takes a few deep breaths trying to rid the thoughts running through his mind, head still spinning from the six pack he polished off. When he opens his eyes, they fall back down to where is cock is springing up towards the sparse hairs trailing to his belly button. He swallows thickly before reaching down to wrap his large hand around the thick base of his cock, closing his eyes and letting out a groan as he lightly squeezes. For a moment he stays still, trying to collect himself before he goes any further.

“God, this is so fuckin’ pathetic.” he grumbles to himself as he throws his head back.

He takes a deep breath, planting his free hand on the shower wall to brace himself as he looks back down at where his hand is wrapped around his painfully stiff cock. A shaky breath leaves his lips as he closes his eyes, images of you immediately appearing behind his closed lids. His hand moves slowly up his shaft, the warm water acting as a lubricant as he begins to lazily pump his fist. Your lips, your eyes, your skin, he thinks about when he bumped into you at the restaurant the other night, how soft your skin was under his rough hands when he stopped you from crashing into him. The scent of you has been lingering around him ever since that night, unable to clear it from his senses.

He starts to pick up his pace, giving a slight squeeze with each pump of his fist. The heat in his stomach is starting to build as he now imagines you on your knees in front of him, the way your soft lips would look wrapped around him as you take every inch. His mouth falls open and a low whine escapes him, he squeezes his eyes shut as the vision of how you would look peering up at him with your pretty eyes as he stuffs his cock into your mouth plays in his head. Your voice replays in his head, saying his name over and over so smoothly as his climax grows closer.

To tell the truth, he would do anything to have you actually here with him now. He would quit all this teasing and messing around once and for all if it meant he could finally taste you, and oh how he's been dying to taste you. Dreaming about it, fantasizing about how sweet your pretty pussy must taste, dying to sink into it. He swears he can hear the pretty moans leaving your mouth, feel your soft skin under the palms of his hands as he imagines them roaming your body. The image of you lying on his bed, back arched, moaning his name as you buck your hips into his mouth sends him over the edge.

A deep groan leaves Joel's mouth, eyes squeezing shut as he paints the shower wall. He stays still for a moment, breathing deeply as he stands up straight and begins to gather himself. His head falls back and he lets out a sigh as he opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling, thoughts still racing. As he turns to face the shower head, he wonders what you're up to tonight. A knot begins to form in his stomach at the possibilities, but he shakes it off, ducking to put his head under the shower stream and running his hands over his face.

He stays standing under the water for a minute or two, giving himself a moment to come down from the high of his orgasm before washing his hair and cleaning himself up. After shutting off the water he pulls back the shower curtain and reaches out to grab his towel, stepping out of the shower. He lets out a content sigh as he dries himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist and pushing back his still dripping wet hair from his forehead. Quickly picking up his dirty clothing from the floor, he heads back into his room tossing them in his hamper before digging through his dresser for sweats and a t-shirt.

Just as he finishes changing, he hears his front door open. “Joel!” Tommy yells out.

Joel rolls his eyes at the sound of Tommy’s voice. “Well that didn’t last long.” He grumbles to himself as he slowly opens his bedroom door and walks towards the stairs.

“Joel! You home?” Tommy calls out again.

Joel lets out a sigh. “Yeah!” He finally answers as he quickly goes down the stairs, walking into the kitchen to see Tommy leaning on the kitchen counter.

“Got the place to yourself tonight, huh?” Tommy asks as Joel walks past him into the kitchen, heading towards the sink. He raises his eyebrows in annoyance once his back is to Tommy.

“Yup.” Until you showed up, he thinks to himself.

“Surprised you don’t have a girl over, or a date planned for that matter.” Joel tries not to let Tommy’s comment get to him as he turns on the sink, allowing the water a few seconds to warm up before he does the dishes.

Tommy laughs and Joel lets out a sigh, thoughts of you entering his mind again. He picks up a sponge, covering it in a small dollop of soap before grabbing a dirty plate from the sink. You’ve seen him the past couple of times he was on a date with someone and he wonders how you feel about it. Were you upset afterwards? He knew you were angry the night you saw him at the diner after a date, but how much did it really bother you? He needs to know. Joel hears Tommy's voice and snaps out of his thoughts.

“Speaking of dates,” Tommy clears his throat, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and sitting down before he continues on. “I just got back from one.”

Joel’s not so interested in hearing about another one of Tommy's flings at this moment, but he’s too tired to tell him so. “Oh yeah? Who’s the lucky lady this time?” A small smirk grows on Joel's face as he prepares to hear his brother go on about his new girl.

Joel freezes, heart sinking down into his stomach when he hears your name leave Tommy’s mouth, not wanting to believe it. The two of them sit silent for a few moments, only the sound of the running water from the sink filling the room. His blood starts to boil, muscles tensing up as his hands still, a glass in one, sponge in the other. A low ringing starts to play through Joel's ears and he tries to gather himself.

Tommy finally breaks the silence. “Actually just dropped her off before heading over here.”

“Hm.” Joel nods his head as he tries to think of more to say. “Where did you two go?” Joel tries to keep his voice steady as he speaks, visions of you out with his brother, sitting in his passenger seat racing through his brain as he continues to scrub away at the dish in his hands. He doesn't really want to know the answer, but he needs to know. How serious could this thing really be?

“Just a little place downtown, had dinner and a few drinks then went for a walk.” As Tommy speaks, Joel's imagining the scene in his head.

What did you wear? Did you laugh at his jokes, throwing your head back as your eyes fall shut, lips turning up to reveal your beautiful smile. He doesn't want to imagine you with anyone else, let alone his little brother.

“Mmm.” Joel hums in response, not sure what else he can say or if he can even keep himself calm enough to come up with something.

“I think I’m really into her,” Tommy lets out a small laugh, shaking his head back and forth slightly. “Which hasn't happened in awhile.” Joel feels sick at the words that just left his brother's mouth.

Joel rinses the dish he was scrubbing and sets it into the drying rack next to the sink before picking up another dirty dish. He grabs the dish soap and notices his hand is shaking slightly as he goes to squeeze the bottle. Fuck. What seems like half the bottle comes flying out when he squeezes. This can't be happening, he thinks to himself.

“I know she's a little young but, there's something there.” Even with his back to him, Joel can hear the smile in Tommy's voice. “Our second kiss just, it felt like this could really be something.”

Joel drops the soapy wet plate into the sink, causing him to flinch and Tommy rises from his chair. He thinks his heart could stop right this second at the image of you kissing his brother, again. As if once wasn't bad enough.

“You okay?” Tommy says, walking towards Joel.

“Yeah, yeah just,” Joel’s voice breaks and he clears his throat. “Pretty tired, it's been a long day.” He picks up the plate from the bottom of the sink, rinsing it off and setting it next to the others on the drying rack.

“Well, I'm gonna get going. I’ll call you tomorrow?” Joel can hear Tommy’s footsteps as he backs out of the kitchen, but he doesn’t turn around to look at his brother.

“Sounds good.” he nods his head, continuing his task.

Joel listens to the sound of Tommy walking towards the front door, opening and closing it behind him. Then it's silent. Just Joel and his thoughts. He zones out, staring out the window over the sink into the pitch black, still feeling a bit fuzzy from the drinks he had earlier. His eyes focus for just a second on his reflection in the glass.

You and his little brother. He knew you two had gone out together once, he was with you two at the bar, not thinking it was actually anything serious. And he did see you kiss his brother that same night, but Joel just assumed it was to get under his skin, which worked. Now though, this was more than just something casual. He needs to find a way to talk to you, soon. Before it's too late.

He can't shake the images of the two of you from his head. Imagining the way you would’ve looked under the moonlight as you strolled the streets after dinner, breeze gently blowing as you walked hand in hand. He imagines himself there with you instead of his brother. Driving you home, stealing glances at you as you sit beside him in the passenger seat looking out the window as music plays softly through the radio. Walking you up the steps to your front door, pulling you into him and placing a gentle kiss on your lips before watching you go inside and walking to his car.

Except it wasn’t him. It was his fucking brother walking hand in hand with you and kissing you as he dropped you off at the end of the night.

“God damnit!” Joel yells out, the glass in his hand shattering.

His heart is racing as he looks down at his hand, a few small cuts scattering across his palm. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realize he was squeezing it that tightly. For a moment he stands there, staring down at his palm and the red covered broken glass lying in the sink. The water is still running and he moves his hand to run beneath it, rinsing the blood from his hand and covering the sink in a red tint. His breathing starts to slow as he fully snaps back into reality, the sting of the cuts starts to sink in and he sucks in a breath, quickly pulling his hand away from the running water.

“Great.” he mumbles to himself, shutting the water off and walking towards the drawer in the kitchen where he keeps a few bandaids and gauze.

He grabs the roll of gauze with his good hand and walks back upstairs towards his bathroom. He’ll deal with the broken glass tomorrow morning before Sarah gets home, right now all he wants to do is sleep. When he gets back upstairs, he rummages around the cabinet under his sink, looking for the bottle of rubbing alcohol that's somewhere down there, grabbing some cotton balls while he's at it.

Before sitting down on his toilet seat to wrap his hand, he takes a look at it under the vanity light, making sure there's no glass in the cuts. There's a large gash running from the base of his thumb towards the center of his palm, and two small puncture spots beneath his ring finger where the glass just barely cut him. He runs his hand under cold water one last time, then soaks a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol, pressing lightly along the cuts.

He winces as it soaks into the cuts, stinging once again. As he goes to sit down, he tosses the cotton balls into the small trash in the corner of his bathroom, grunting when he finally sits down. He stares down at his hand, examining the wound one last time before starting to unravel the gauze and wrap it around his hand and tucking the end in to keep it in place as much as possible. The stinging hasn't stopped quite yet, his hand feels warm where the cut is but all he can do is hope it’s slightly better in the morning.

Joel lets out a deep sigh as he stands up, walking out of the bathroom and towards his bed. Sleep will fix everything, at least he hopes. He knows it won't lessen the pain of what he's learned tonight, but at least he'll get a break from imagining you with…

He can't even finish the thought, won't finish it. He pulls back his comforter and slips into his bed, reaching to flick off his bedside light before turning onto his side. He’ll deal with it all in the morning.

It’s been about an hour since your date with Tommy ended, now you’re laying in bed on top of your covers, just staring at the ceiling as you go over the events of tonight. The date was alright, you think. You could tell he had put a lot of effort into it, dressing nicer than usual and taking you to a nice spot for dinner. He ordered wine at dinner, which was more shocking than impressive.

The two of you talked about anything and everything, laughing and having a good time, only when Joel wasn’t slipping into your mind. You tried your best to surprise your thoughts, especially since you were on a date with his younger brother, but every time Tommy did something you couldn’t help but think about what Joel would’ve done if you were there with him.

Would he be telling jokes the way Tommy was? Would he have ordered wine instead of his usual in a lame attempt to impress you? He probably wouldn’t have taken you to a place this nice, but you think you would’ve preferred that.

After dinner, Tommy had taken you on a walk around town. The weather was beautiful as the sun was setting, a small breeze picking up as you walked under the street lights. It would’ve been even better if you weren’t distracted the whole time wishing that you were with Joel instead. You felt guilty, absolutely terrible, even now thinking about it makes your stomach twist into a knot. The truth of the matter is, you need to end things with Tommy, sooner than later.

You finally sit up and climb off your bed, walking over to your dresser and grabbing something to sleep in, quickly peeling your outfit from tonight off and slipping into your pajamas. As you toss you things into your hamper, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your mirror, staring back at yourself for a moment.

“What am I going to do.” You let out a deep sigh, walking over to flick your bedroom light off before crawling into bed.

thank you for reading <3

tags: @pedropascalfan221 @mellymbee @kaybee181520 @joeldjarin @akah565 @chefchy4 @untamedheart81 @merz-8 @fellinfromthetop @znerac @hiddenbabynyc

i think i won’t be doing a tag list from now on…. sorry don’t hate me!! i also post all chapters on my ao3 pale_m00nlight :)

[neo404]

Ride or die.

Summary: Nick and latino boyfriend. NSFW. Also, Sub Nick (cus I know you all love that shit)

“Come on, it will be fun.” Nick begs as I roll my eyes at him. he got invited to another party this month, I feel like I will die if I go to another party, I just wanted to relax with him tonight, but I can’t resist his pretty eyes and his cute outfit. “I’m already changed, come on. Please.”

“Ugh.” I sigh, and consider what options I have.

“Please, amor. (amor)” Nick grins and sits on my left leg, his arms wrapping around my neck. “Please, I don’t wanna go alone.” He whispers against my ear. My arm wraps around his waist and I look up at him.

“All right.” Nick immediately jumps out of my lap and runs to grab his phone, sending an audio to whoever invited him saying that he is going with me and to wait for us. I roll my eyes because I can’t believe how weak I am for him.

In out way to the party Nick was extra sweet and loving with me, his way of thanking me. The party house was big, as usual, filled with people, music and alcohol. We walk inside, my hand on Nick waist, we pass throw the drunk people and get to a big living room where a few of our friends were sitting and chatting. Some girl approaches Nick and make him sit besides her while they talk, I sit next to Chris and he offers me a bear.

“Hi man. Thought you guys were gonna chill at you place.” He says loudly so I can hear him over the music.

“Yeah, you know how it is. If the prince wants something he gets it.” Chris laughs, after I finish the bear I join the conversation fully, laughing and catching up with a few of them.

After two or three bears I feel relaxed, I lean back on the couch, a brand-new bear on my hand, the music vibrating throw my body. I feel a little tap on my shoulder takes me out of my trance, I turn around and Madi is standing there.

“Hi, I just wanted to let you know that Nick is dancing over there, my legs hurt a bit and I wanted to sit down, just so you know where he is.” She smiles warmly at me and I follow her finger until I see Nick dancing and jumping here and there. I smile at her.

“Thanks, Mads.” She goes to sit with the rest of the group. I lean back on the couch again, the cold liquor hitting my throat when I sip it, I spread my legs to try and adjust the growing problem in my pants. I smile at myself while admiring Nicks body dancing to the loud music. When I finish the bottle, I put it on the ground and stand up, walking slowly but decided to him. when I’m behind him I grab him by the waist and press him against me.

“You alone, lindo? (cutie).” I whisper against his hear. I feel him giggle, but he doesn’t stop swaying his hips from side to side.

“No, I’m here with my boyfriend.”

“Oh, are you?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t see him.” I kiss the back of his ear, making his back arch a bit.

“He knows how to fight.”

“Bet he does. What else?”

“He is super rude.”

“Really? And why a niño bonito (pretty boy) like you is with such a mean guy?”

“He is good to me.” Nick turns around, his arms wrapping against my neck, our chest touching. “So good to me.” He kisses my cheek and I roll my eyes.

“Hi, guapo (handsome).” I kiss him back. “Madi told me she ditched you.”

“She didn’t ditch me.” he rolls his eyes. “So… you came so I wasn’t dancing alone?”

“I mean, I don’t mind watching you dance alone. It was a really nice, I might ask you to dance for me more often.” His cheeks light up a bit. “A little show just for me, what do you think?”

“Maybe… I’ll have to think about it.”

“What a tease…” I grab him by the waist and pull him closer to me, my hardness pressing against his soft tummy. “Let’s go home.”

“But-“ I move my hips a bit, rubbing a bit more onto him, his cheeks grow redder and he bites his lip. “Okay, I’ll tell them you are sleepy, go turn on the car.” I smile widely, grab him by the hair and pull him into a sloppy wet kiss, when I let him go, he is red and panting.

“I’ll wait for you on the car.” I go to the car, I wait maybe 5 or 8 minutes until Nick is inside the car and I quickly drive to my house, lucky for us it wasn’t that far away.

We stumble into the house, his shirt already on the floor when he pushes me against the door while locking it. Our hips meeting, rolling and pushing to get the friction we needed. I take off my shirt and push him, walking forwards while still kissing, the back of his knees hit the couch and he falls into it, I climb on top of him while unbuckling my belt.

“I’m gonna ruin you, god, I want to hear you scream tonight.” I leave my belt on the coffee table and take his pants off, a little wet stop on his boxers where his tip lies. I smile to myself while I attack his neck, leaving red marks all over it, my right hand rubbing and massaging his hard dick.

“Please, need you.” I bite down, my teeth leaving a mark close to his jaw. I slap his butt and sit up.

“Work for it.” He sits up to, his face blushed and a confused face. “Put on a show for me, come on, make me want to fuck you.” Nick looks down and bites his lips. He stands up, I open my legs so he is standing between them, his hips start to sway and roll, his pretty face all flushed as he dances for me. When I feel like I have had enough I pull him into my lap, the rough material of my jeans rubbing against the wet and soft cotton of his boxers, his hips start to buckle and roll on top of my clothed dick.

“Did I do a good job?”

“Claro, mi amor (of course, mi love). I loved it. You deserve to be ruined.” I smile, his lips meet mine, a hungry and needy kiss is shared between us, his hips never stop moving, my arms wrapped around his waist, grabbing and pushing down on his ass making our bodies be even closer. “Shit, I need you. Take those out.” I demand, when Nick starts to take off his boxers, I take my jeans and boxers out too, tossing them on the floor. Before Nick sits down on my lap again, I speak. “Pass me the belt.”

“W-what?”

“I think I spoke clearly, pass me the belt.” He gulps and grabs my belt from the coffee table. “Good boy, turn around for me.” When Nick turns around, he puts his hands behind him so I can tie them up. “It would be just like last time.” I kiss his lower back gently. “¿Por que tan nervioso? Recuerdo que esa noche me pedias que no parara (why so nervous? I remember that night you were begging me to not stop).” I laugh a bit and kiss above his elbow. “Turn around. On your knees.” I look down at him, my hard dick on my hand, his soft lips leave a sweet kiss on my tip, then he goes down on it, his head going up and down, up and down, his back arching prettily.

I groan and moan as he makes a mess out of me. “Enough, enough.” I say, my chest going up and down. I pat my lap. “Come on, you earned it.” Nick stands up, I grab him by the waist so he doesn’t lose balance, he straddles my hips, I grab the base of my length with one hand so its easier for him to slide down. When his hips meet mine, he lets out a loud moan.

“Fuck.” His chest heavily falls up and down. Nick hides his face on my shoulder and I feel him bite down on it.

“I know, I know.” After a few seconds I feel him starting rolling his hips. “That’s it. Good job.” Nick picks up the pace of his hips, starting gently bounce up and down, I throw my head up, my hands squeezing his plushy waist helping him move above me.

I can hear Nicks pants and moans against my neck, one of my heads leave his waist and goes to his hair, with a firm tug I make him look at me, his pupils dilated, his furrowed brows and watery eyes making him look so hot. I attack his mouth, our moans and groans suppressed by each others mouths. When Nick pulls away his gaze meets mine.

“You look so pretty bouncing for me.” I slap his ass, bot of my hands again on his waist, my thumb massaging and my fingers squeezing his flesh.

“Fuck- can’t, please.”

“Please, what?” he looks down where our hips meet, his lip between his teeth.

“Can I cum? Please.” he begs. I grab his waist firmly, making him stop his movements.

“¿Como decirte que no? (how could I say no to you?)” my hips buckle up, hitting the right spot with every thrust, his back arches, his moans are uncontrollable, I feel intoxicated by the way he says my name and his eyes are shut with pleasure. The wet noises mixing with the lovely sound of our bodies hitting together filling the room. I feel him clench around me, and with a loud moan his legs end up shacking, Nicks forehead against mine, his whole weight on top of me again, heave breaths leaving him, I give him a sweet kiss while he rolls his hips against me, the warmth of his cum all over my chest dripping down to my stomach.

Once his breath steadies, I speak. “Ready?” Nick just nods and hums. With a swift move I turn him around, his chest and face hitting the softness of the couch, his hips still attached to mine. “Come on babe, arch that pretty back.” I massage his lower back and lean in to kiss his shoulder when he arches his back. “Eso es (that’s it), good boy. Que obediente (how obedient).” The first thrust few thrusts are soft.

“Please…” Nick moans prettily, his eyes meeting mine over his shoulder.

“Dios… me vuelves loco (god… you drive me crazy.” My thrust increase speed and I try to hit as deep as I can, my hips rolling to make sure it feels extra good. I lean forward again, pushing his chest down with mine, I moan and bite down on his neck. “¿se siente bien? ¿si? Se que te encanta cuando hablo español, que sucio que eres. Dios, solo escúchate. (does it feel good? Yeah? I know you love it when I speak spanish. God, just hear yourself.) You sound like a slut.

“Fuck. Yes, ‘m yours, your slut.”

“Good boy. God, you are so hot.” I shut my eyes, biting down on his shoulder. “Close, baby.”

“M’too. Wannit inside. Please.” His hands grab down on the couch, his hips backing up against mine.

“As you wish.” My legs shake, my heart races. “Ah, mierda (Oh, fuck).” Nicks legs shake, his legs going limp, when I pull out my white seed falls from his insides. “Oh shit.” I try to catch my breath. Nick turns around, he is laying on his back, his vest going up and down heavily. “¿Como estas mi amor? (how are you, my love?)”

Taglist: @freshloveforthefit @shywolfapricotfan @sturnphilia @matty-bear @thenickgirl @stvrniolvsp @paige05 @soursturniolo @miloisdone1 @teenagetrash00 @lovely-calypso @h3arts4harry @malirosee

[the-kr8tor]

REQUEST

Y'know, Hobie n R hit the boombahya, now the twins are getting a li'l bro? :3

The twins could be like, 4-5 years old now, maybe?

Yeesss new baby alert!! Thank you, roze ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, mom! Reader, dad! Hobie, Billie and Ramona AU, Twin AU, dad AU, fluff

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie's nervous, and it's not because he's scared for you because you're in labour and actively pushing out a whole new human being, that was hours ago, all the blood and sweat have been wiped clean and the baby now presumably sleeps in your arms. And it's not because he's scared of having a new kid, he's way past that phase thanks to your help. No, it's not because of those things why his hands are so clammy, he's scared whether or not his girls, his first babies will get along with the new addition to the family. Especially when they wanted a baby sister.

He flicks his eyes upwards towards the rearview mirror to check on the girls. Their legs dangle off the car seat that they've quickly outgrown. They should be out of it in a few years, but he's sure he won't be ready to face the fact that the squishy cheeked babies he used to carry around all time are now eight years old with their long legs they both inherited from him. The new baby car seat sits between them, all shiny and new, awaiting the new baby.

They eat their chips and ice cream happily, a little treat he bought for them to soften the blow of the news. Ramona hums a tune, a nervous habit of hers. Her, or your cardigan for the matter sits largely on her frame, sparkly trainers shining in the early morning light. While Billie eats her ice cream cone like she hasn't eaten in days. Like Mona, she also sports one of your jackets, a frilly one that you used to wear back when you and Hobie were just friends. They clearly miss you after just a couple of days in hospital.

Hobie unclasps his seat belt, twisting around his seat to speak to them, like a zoo keeper facing lions, he gingerly takes a chip, waiting for their protest.

“Dad!” Billie reacts first, “I was eating that.”

“And I bought it.” He annoyingly chews to lighten the mood.

Mona lifts her eyes from her melting ice cream to her dad. Always the more perceptive one, she senses his nerves. “Is mum okay?” Her tone makes Billie take a whole 180 on her emotions.

“What– why would she not be okay?” Billie turns to her dad, tone soft and clearly terrified at the thoughts rolling in her mind. “Dad, mum is okay, right?”

“She's fine, Mac,” He can see the relief on their faces. “just— she's knackered, pushing the baby out tired was hard, so can you two promise me that you'll be extra careful with her and the baby?”

They look at each other for a second before nodding. “Okay,” they say simultaneously. Hobie's used to their synchronization.

“Good,” he pats both of their knees. “Ready to head out and meet your sibling?”

“Yes!” Billi exclaims, the ‘s’ sound prolonged.

Mona finishes her ice cream in one gulp, brain freeze evident on her face. The same expression you get whenever you bite into your ice cream. He can't wait to see you too, it's only been a few hours since he left your side but it feels like a year.

Wincing, Mona smiles, showing off her dimples and pearly whites. “I'm good!”

“Let's go then.” Hobie doesn't need to help them with their car seat, but it doesn't mean that he doesn't miss it. All he does now is open and close the doors for them, he feels all nostalgic. He hopes he gets the same feeling when his boy gets the same age as his girls.

Locking the car, Billie skips ahead while Mona takes her dad's hand wordlessly. “Bee!” She yells after her sister. “Look both ways!”

Billie stops in her tracks to check her left and right. Then she tosses a thumbs up behind her, continuing her way towards the entrance of the hospital.

“D’you think we need a leash for your sister?” He tuge at Mona's hand jokingly.

“Leashes aren't nice, dad, they hinder us from our freedom to move around.” She says seriously, or as seriously a eight year old can sound like.

“That's my girl.” Hobie grins down.

“Learned from the best.” She beams up at him, he can't believe that she grew up looking more like you when everyone thought she looked like him when she was a baby. “Aunty Yuri taught me that.”

Hobie scrunches his nose. “You ruined it, cheese.” She clearly knows what she's doing based on her cheeky grin. He's her kid alright.

“Dad! Elevator!” Billie, in her blue overalls, holds the elevator doors open. “Hurry!” She stomps her foot impatiently.

“Alright, we're comin’” Entering the elevator, Billie seems to be jumping all over the walls. Maybe he shouldn't have given them ice cream.

Her eyes flit over the various medical posters inside the elevator, feet unconsciously doing a little dance.

Mona tugs at Hobie's hand, beaded bracelets clinking against each other. “You look knackered, dad.” His heart melts.

Patting her head, Hobie's hand is big enough to cover her entire head. Her curls stick out in-between his fingers and the ribbons she hastily tied around her hair. “I am, dovey. But I'll be alright, mum and my babies come first, yeah?”

“But who'll take care of you?” Her eyes gloss over. Billie heard the conversation through her fog of excitement. She holds the sleeve of Hobie's leather jacket like she always does when she's unsure.

He whispers, hands on both of their heads. “I'm Spiderman, innit? If I can handle lizard on my worst day, I can handle this.”

Mona thinks for a second. She smiles once she gets an idea. “Then we'll watch over you then!”

“Mm-hmm!” Billie agrees, “Like mum always does!”

Hobie would've embraced his girls until he lets all his love for them out, but the ring of the doors opening cuts him off. With a sniff, he feels the tears behind his eyes once again.

“You two are already better at this than me,” he softly says as he leads them out of the lift. He has no idea why he worried so much.

Walking past the nurse’s station, both of his babies are holding each of his hands now, hopping and skipping happily. Their curls bounce cutely, getting a nurse’s attention. Hobie recognizes her as one of the nurses that attended to you.

“You two are adorable!” She coos, “d’you girls want a lolly?” Shaking a jar full of colourful lollipops, surprisingly, the girls shake their heads.

“No, thank you, Mum and dad said to not accept any candies from strangers.” Mona puffs out her chest bravely. Her sister agrees, nodding along to her words.

Hobie chuckles whilst the nurse does the same. “It's alright, love, I know her, go take some.” He urges them, still a tad apprehensive, Billie takes one for the team, taking two lollies. Yellow for her, and green for Mona.

“Wait! What about the baby?” Mona exclaims,

Billie knits her eyebrows.

“I don't think your baby brother is allowed to have a lolly yet.” The nurse, naive to what she just revealed, returns back to her desk.

“What?!” They crane their neck up incredibly fast, shock on their faces, letting go of their dad's hand like they've been betrayed.

Hobie's ready to mitigate any tantrums, mouth opening to explain, the twins’ grins grow larger (and cuter) making their dad go through a rollercoaster of emotions.

“We have a baby brother?” Mona says giddily.

“Told you it would work!” Billie takes her sister's hand, bouncing up and down.

“What would work?” Hobie has never been more confused when it comes to his daughters.

“Reverse psychology!” They both speak at the same time.

“We keep saying that we want a baby sister but we actually wanted a brother! Now we've tricked mummy's belly to have a boy instead of a girl!” Billie explains like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Hobie doesn't have the heart to tell them that it doesn't work that way. He lets them be, guiding them towards your room as they celebrate their so-called win.

He smiles at them, nodding along. “Yeah, that's great, love— look at that we're here.” Knocking once, he opens the door with a creak.

Billie and Ramona stop from hopping around, peeking inside, they see you sitting up on the bed cradling a bundle of blue blanket.

You smile, shoulders sagging and finally able to relax. Eyes glistening from the mere sight of them alone, (you blame your hormones) you beckon them over.

“My babies,” you softly say, sniffing.

The distinct smell of disinfectant and clean linen immediately has Hobie on dad mode. He remembers the day the girls were born, all shaky legs and clammy hands as the doctor hands them over to him for the first time. Now he has one more bundle to carry, and now he's much more ready and experienced, yet his legs are still wobbly, and his hands are still sweaty. It's like he's back when he first carried his son even though it was just a few hours ago.

He guides Billie and Mona towards your bed, hands on their back, whispering to them. “Indoor voices, mac and cheese. We don't want to scare your brother.”

“Okay.” Mona nods. “Hi, mum, hi little brother.” She softly says, and you scooch to make space for them both on the bed so they could see him better. Mona lifts up her leg carefully, sitting down by your side, planting her face on your bicep. Eyes wide, she holds your hand where you hold your son's tiny leg. “He looks so much like dad. Especially his eyes.” Voice even softer now, you kiss her temple as thanks for being gentle.

Billie has a harder time though, Hobie senses her nerves, whether it's his spidey senses or his dad's intuition, he just knows. Billie is definitely nervous by how she bounces on the balls of her feet, and wrings her hands. He hasn't seen her this anxious since her first recital.

Hobie crouches down, hand on her shoulder, soothing her by mere touch alone. “You alright, Bee?” You watch the interaction in the corner of your eye. Mind still a bit foggy, body still aching, you'd help if not for those feelings.

“Will the baby like me?” She timidly asks her dad, frown deepening on her lips. “What if he hates me?”

“Impossible, angel.” Hobie rubs her back, “he listened to your voice while he was still in mum's belly, and he always moved and wiggled around whenever he heard you. I know he loves you, just like how your mum and I knew that you and Mona would love each other.”

Billie, still his little girl, hugs him right on the spot. Little arms wrapped around his neck, nerves melting off her. Just like how Hobie used to do, he lifts her up, carrying her to your bed.

She sits down right next to her sister, frown immediately gone the moment she lays her eyes on her brother. “He’s so fat.” Giggling, Billie looks at you with the same adoration. “You made him fat, mum.”

You beam at her, you'd embrace both of them if your hands aren't occupied by the sleeping newborn. “It’s because of all the bread and pasta I ate.” Billie and Mona laugh softly, continuing to coo at their brother. Billie sniffs at the blanket, whispering something that sounds like ‘new baby smell.’

Tilting your head at Hobie, eyes tender, you smile at him. Grinning back, he holds your head, placing a heavy kiss on your forehead.

“I was the one who made you all that pasta and bread, you blamin’ me, love?” He says the joke against your temple.

“I'm feeling nice today, so I'm blaming us both. I blame my cravings and I blame you for indulging me.” Moving your head without moving your body to not disturb the baby, (which was a challenge,) you pucker your lips, waiting for him to move. “Told you they'd love him.”

“I should've never doubted you.” With a dramatic sigh, he leans down to kiss you properly.

Now for the next challenge, naming their son. Billie and Mona are already whispering ideas, which includes names ranging from their favourite cartoon characters to even naming them after their uncles. You and Hobie watch on while the baby sleeps soundly, and while your girls argue quietly.

[earl-grey-teacake]

I’m not sure if I’m doing this right since this is my first time actually using the app properly but I absolutely love your work and I HAD to put my two cents in. Logan on multiple occasions has said Kyle Kirkwood is one of his closest friends since they grew up together in Florida. Would Kyle and Logan meet in this au? and if so how? Do you think Kyle and Oscar would fight over Logan’s attention?

You’re doing great!

Thank you for loving my work🥰

I am answering this on the day the news of Logan being dropped came out and I wanted to write something cute and happy.

To answer your question, YES! Those two are absolutely friends, I would never dare to separate them from each other.

I believe in an Andretti interview with Kyle, he reveals that he met Logan when he was karting in Florida. So, I can see Logan meeting Kyle around 7 years old when he goes to see a karting competition in Florida while on vacation. Logan is watching with his parents and this kid who is 2 years older than him is absolutely wiping the floor with the rest of the field. Logan goes up to congratulate him and tell him how good he was and they just hit it off. The parents exchange numbers and Logan and Kyle slowly start building a very strong friendship.

I don’t see Kyle fighting over Logan because Kyle is a good kid who understands what it means to share. Oscar, however, absolutely has a one-sides rivalry with Kyle. Oscar has had other kids befriend him and Logan but nothing as serious as Kyle’s friendship with Logan. He’s prissy, and jealous but won’t show it since it might upset Logan. He does, however, get a bit annoyed when Logan mentions going to see Kyle.

The one who would cause issues would be Colton. Colton meet Kyle when he’s young, maybe around 6 and clinging to his dad’s leg. Kyle is there to see a race and they hit it off really well. Colton sees Kyle as the super cool senior who’s nice and takes the time out of his day to say hi to him instead of treating him like a baby. This sparks a friendship and a little bit of infatuation for Kyle. It also leads to jealousy when Kyle mentions how he has a friend named Logan who lives in Monaco and his dads are race car drivers because Colton lives in California and his dad is also a race car driver- it’s practically the same thing.

Colton wants to fight Logan for the right to be Kyle’s best friend. Oscar wants to fight Kyle for the title of Logan’s best friend and Colton by extension because Colton will always jump to the defense of Kyle. Kyle and Logan are just chilling, doing their own things and chasing after fishes in the lake.

Thank you for the ask!

I hope this ask made everyone’s day a little bit better

[puppietooth]

let me preface this by saying i will love and adore and cherish s3 no matter happens. however, i will say — the one thing i want to see is carmy going out of his way to get back on sydney’s good side.

i’m talking begging for forgiveness, grovelling at her feet, bending over backwards for her.

imagine:

carmy gets out of that walk-in, sees the queasy look on her face, and is already drafting that notes app apology in his head. he tells her he’s sorry and that he fucked up and she tells him they managed to pull everything off without him but she cannot with his bullshit right now.

that hits him like a punch to the gut and, well, he gets it cause it’s definitely deserved.

but as the weeks go on, carmy tries to talk to her she only responds in shrugs, nods, and yes chefs. sydney goes home straight after service, after she helps with clean up, does not linger and talk in the office with him like they did before. carmy tries joking with her and she rolls her eyes more often than not. he asks her if she wants to work on the menu with him and she says no and he gets the feeling that she doesn’t even want to be alone with him anymore.

and that’s when he realizes — fuck. she’s so mad at him.

my girl is mad at me i want to die.

so? what else is carmy supposed to do but the most?

sydney comes in one morning and tells tina she was running late so she couldn’t stop by her favourite spot to get her morning latte. carmy overhears this and takes it upon himself to run to that spot, ten blocks over, to get her that latte. and when he gets back, sweetly and breathless, he gives it to her only to find out it’s the completely wrong order. but syd smiles, just a little, says a small thanks.

during family, he casually hints at the fact that he’s seeing a therapist now — says sorry chef i have therapy saturday afternoon when marcus asks if anyone would be down to go to the farmers market with him. because he needs her to know that he’s trying to get better. for himself, yes, but also for her.

his notifications are on and his phone is never on silent anymore — carmy vows to never miss a text or a call from her ever again.

carmy starts checking in with her about everything. when the walls need to be painted again he tells her, asks sydney if she’s okay with changing the floral arrangements but the bar, lets her know he’s ordering new aprons for the line cooks, runs tweets by her before posting them to the bear’s twitter account. and it gets to the point where syd has to tell him to chill — that she appreciates him not wanting to keep her in the dark, but some things just don’t need her approval. pats him on the shoulder and tells him it’s his restaurant, too.

it might come off as a bit showy but he tells her great work today, chef sydney after every service — because she is doing great work.

when sydney’s finally moving out of her dad’s place carmy is there, bright and early, moving her boxes into his car, trying to avoid the subtle stink eye her dad is giving him. again, deserved. he drives her out to her new place, helps her set everything up and lingers when she asks him if he wants coffee.

carmy shows up for her, everytime. he sets his own priorities aside, swaps them out for hers. sydney says jump and he asks how high?

it all comes to head on her birthday. before service he goes up to her and gives her a present — a scarf, fabric pink and decorated with prints of various different flowers. it’s soft and silky and he saw it on a mannequin in a window front while he was downtown a couple of weeks ago, immediately thought of her. she tells him it’s lovely and beautiful and she’ll wear it all the time but that he really didn’t have to — that he doesn’t have to keep trying to win her over, that she isn’t mad at him anymore, that she hasn’t been mad for a few weeks now, that she can see he’s trying.

then, sydney hugs him, strong and gentle at the same time, tells him — i see you, carmy.

whatever is supposed to happen after that does not happen because fak starts yelling about an exploding toilet from the room over so sydney scoffs and says she’ll go take care of it.

and it’s at that exact moment that carmy becomes aware of what he hasn’t been aware of but that has been there, right in front of him this whole time.

holy shit.

he likes sydney.

he likes her a lot.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

It’s not until he’s already whaling on the kid that Paul realises exactly who it is he’s decided to jump.

He’d been out for a drive with Ty, shooting the shit and showing off the new Camaro his dad bought him for his birthday when they spotted the greaser kid- a guy with slicked back reddish brown hair, small but tough looking like all the kids from the east side, walking alone down one of the back roads. One look and a grin shared with Ty was all it took before he was shooting down the street, forcing the kid to jump into the ditch or risk getting run over.

Ty had laughed, mirth shining in his handsome green eyes as the greaser sprang to his feet, swearing colourfully. Paul wasn’t gonna pretend to have any sort of love for the east side, but he couldn’t deny that greaser folk didn’t turn out any sissies. For all the kid probably wasn’t more than fourteen, his greyish eyes didn’t show a trace of fear. Annoyance more than anything, and something that looked like…recognition, maybe? Didn’t matter much. What came next was the fun part- greasers didn’t break easy. It was always fun to see how much they could take before they finally started crying for their mothers.

In the time it took for Paul and Tson to get out of the car, the greaser had snatched up a broken beer bottle and leaned into a defensive slouch.

“Hey Buddy,” Ty grinned.

“Fuck off.” The kid spat, gripping the bottle tighter. Paul took a step closer to him and…there! The kid’s eyes- which had been laser focused on him and Ty- flashed left. 

“Not so fast,” Paul stepped sideways, effectively boxing the kid in. In the ditch, with a barbed wire fence from an old farm at his back, the camaro blocking any escape to the right, Ty in front of him, and now Paul at his left, the kid was well and truly trapped. Paul could see the moment he realized it, a flash of unease flitting over his face before smoothing into a tough mask once more.

“You know Ty,” Paul said, “I think this kid needs to learn some manners. And I think we should teach them to him. What do you think?”

Ty grinned. “Y’know Paul, I think you’re right.”

The kid spat at him. Saliva dripped down Ty’s face, his friend apparently too stunned to do anything but blink at him. 

The greaser snickered.

Paul lunged. 

For all the kid’s bravado and tough facade, even with that bottle in his hand, he’s still just a kid. Paul is twenty now, a linebacker for the University of Alabama, not afraid of a kid who could swing a bottle but not hard enough. He’s got him down in a second. 

The first punch shatters the kid’s nose, blood immediately pouring down his face. It still takes two more hits before he starts screaming. When he does, Paul’s blood runs cold

“Darry!” The kid, no longer tough looking by any means, cries out, “Darry help! Darry!”

The name, torn from the past Paul had worked so hard to forget, pulls him up short. He remembers now, Darry Curtis always speaking with fond exasperation about his two little brothers, about how one of them always tracked mud through the house and drove their mother crazy, and the other one climbed trees and got stuck in them because he couldn’t remember how to get down.

He also remembers the time Darry found out someone was picking on his brother, the one who was a freshman back when they were seniors. They practically had to peel the guy off the pavement when Darry was done with him.

Shit.

There’s a lot of things he remembers about Darry Curtis. He can’t decide whether they make him wish he’d punched the kid harder or never punched him at all.

The kid, Darry’s little brother, takes advantage of Paul’s brief distraction, bucking his hips and rolling. It’s a good maneuver, one that probably would have managed to throw Paul off if it weren’t for Ty grabbing the kid’s hair and slamming his head back against the ground.

Ty starts punching him then, and all Paul can do is sit there half frozen, seeing Darry’s eyes in someone else's face, his sharp jawline framing someone else’s mouth, his weird, sticking out ears on someone else’s head, all the features beat to a bloody pulp.

And all the while the kid keeps screaming.

“Darry! Soda! Help! Johnny, Steve, Dally, anyone! Please! Darry!”

It’s too much. Whatever he and Darry once had, whatever happened between them, no matter how bad it ended, it shouldn’t have come to this. There shouldn’t be a mixture of dark satisfaction and soul crushing guilt warring in his heart at the sight of Darry’s brother bloody and bruised. 

Ty’s fist raises once again and the kid on the ground flinches, cries.

Paul reaches out to grab Ty’s shoulder, to tell him it’s enough, that they should get out of here, to escape from the memories and the guilt and the rage.

He never gets a chance.

“‘Hey asshole!” Before he can grab Ty’s shoulder someone else grabs his shoulder and punches him hard enough he feels his teeth rattle in his skull. He stumbles back, clutching his cheek and looks up into the coldest eyes he’s ever seen, a glittering, intelligent, blue-so-deep-it’s-black shining with malice. A thick scar peeks out of his attacker’s hairline, but other than that the guy’s smooth brown skin is largely unmarked, features handsome in a dangerous sort of way. His head tilts, the way a cat’s might before it pounces on its prey, as he pulls a switchblade from his pocket, clicking it open. The handle is worn but the blade is no joke, six inches of razor sharp steel, glittering in the sunlight. 

Paul gulps. He’s not stupid enough to bring fists to a knife fight and he sure as hell doesn't have a blade on him.

The guy notices because he grins, revealing pearly white teeth and canines just a bit sharper than the average person’s.

Paul opens his mouth, to say what exactly he isn’t sure, but before he can he’s interrupted by a scream. Except this time it’s not the kid’s- it’s Ty’s.

He whirls with a gasp to see Darry Curtis on top of Ty, knuckles already bloody from hitting him so hard. Beside them, the greaser kid has managed to pull himself to his knees, an impressive feat considering the state he’s in.

Questions and emotions swirl through Paul’s head so fast he feels dizzy. How could Darry have snuck up on them so fast and so quietly? Did he really hear the kid screaming? Who’s the guy with him?

The guy with him…

His distraction is his fatal mistake, because he turned his back on the guy with the knife, who has him in a headlock with a blade against his throat before he can so much as yell.

“So,” the guy with the knife says in his ear. He’s disarmingly casual, for all he could kill Paul at any moment if he so chose, “you’re the famous Paul, huh?”

Fear, cold and paralyzing, floods through him.

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

The guy with the knife chuckles, grabbing him by the hair and forcing him to watch as Ty’s face gets bloodier and bloodier, his handsome features turned into a crime scene. There’s an almost animalistic rage in Darry’s eyes, a look Paul’s only seen once before, and he knows that when Darry pulls his punches it will only be because he feels justice has been served.

“I know everythin’ that happens in this town,” the knife at his neck doesn’t waver so much as an iota, as his captor laughs again, “and I heard a lot about you Paul Holden. Football star but never good enough to be captain. A bigger petty thief than half us east side boys, but daddy always bought you out of it. And apparently a big fan of jumping little kids- y’know, like a coward.”

Paul growls, trying to twist loose from the guy’s hold, but the greaser is stronger than his wiry frame belies, and he’s still got the advantage of a knife in hand. He presses it close enough that a small bead of blood wells against the steel and Paul stops struggling.

“Maybe I am a coward,” Paul grits out, panting, whether from fear or exertion he doesn’t know, “but Darry Curtis isn’t any braver than me.”

The knife bites into his neck a tad deeper. 

“Darry isn’t the one who just jumped a little kid.”

Paul grins. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re full of shit.” The guy’s voice is as measured and cool as ever, but the grip on Paul’s hair tightens painfully and he knows he’s hit a nerve.

“Maybe,” Paul admits, “but I’m not wrong. You’re his new guy, right? Well he fucks good but he’ll betray you in the end, just like he did me-”

A burning flash and his cheek is suddenly pouring blood.

“Watch. Your. Mouth.” The guy snarls, “Or next time I won’t just cut your pretty face I'll cut your damn throat.” 

Paul falls silent, not willing to call his bluff. Mostly because he isn’t entirely sure the guy is bluffing. Whoever Darry’s got himself mixed up with now is a whole lot more dangerous to him and probably for him than Paul ever was.

Figures.

He focuses back on Ty and Darry’s fight. Darry’s got a black eye and a small cut on his temple, so apparently Ty has managed to fight back a little, but he’s still a lot worse off, still pinned by Darry, face a twisted mess of what it once was.

“Darry,” the kid has managed to stumble to his feet, the eye that isn’t already swollen shut, wide and horrified, “Darry stop. C’mon, that’s enough, you're gonna kill him.”

Paul sees the moment Darry comes back to himself, watches as the feral look in his eyes melts into concern and pain so deep it would have cut twelfth grade Paul to the bone. Hell, it does something to him now.

“He deserves it, Ponyboy,” Darry says, “look what he did to your face!”

“I’m fine Dar,” the kid tries for a grin, but the blood in his teeth defeats the point of any sort of reassurance, “let’s just go home. Ain’t like he’s gonna try anything now.”

On the ground, Ty moans something incomprehensible. Shit, Paul’s going to have to take him to a hospital when they get out of this.

“Yeah,” Darry nods like he’s trying to convince himself, “yeah okay. Go ahead an’ git in the car okay? Me’n Tim’ll be there in a second.”

He’s talking full grease, the way he always used to when he was real upset, and Paul can’t help the satisfaction that runs through him at the sound of it. 

“Ok, just…don’t do anythin’ you’ll regret,” the kid starts limping in the direction of a beat up pickup truck Paul hadn’t noticed before, casting wary glances over his shoulder the whole time. He’s lifted the hem of his shirt to press against his nose but it doesn’t seem to be doing much to staunch the flow of blood.

Paul looks back at Darry and finds himself staring into the coldest eyes he’s ever seen. He used to think those eyes were beautiful, back in high school, when they twinkled with mirth or glittered with determination. Some part of him acknowledges that they’re still beautiful now, even filled with hatred. 

They stare at each other for a moment, Darry standing over the body of Paul’s new best friend who they both know is probably more than that, Paul with Darry’s new lover's knife held tight against his neck.

In those seconds he remembers everything they ever were, ever fought for, fought because of, why he left. He remembers meeting Darry in eighth grade and immediately being drawn to him in a way he could never properly explain. He remembers the first time they kissed, in tenth grade, the fear that had gripped him but the longing that had claimed him, making terror a backseat to passion. He remembers two years of dreaming, days and nights, soft lips and warm hands and a body like a greek god, remembers when longing gave way to love. He remembers screaming and fighting and words neither of them could ever take back. Remembers leaving. Remembers regretting it. Remembers trying to go back and Darry refusing him. Remembers heartbreak. Remembers rage.

Darry punches him.

Pain blooms across his jaw and he swears he feels a tooth crack, the only thing stopping him from hitting the ground the fact that Darry’s guy still has him in a vicelike grip.

“If you ever,” Darry spits through gritted teeth, and there’s no forgiveness in those eyes, no nostalgia, only hate, “lay a finger on my little brother again, I swear to god I’ll kill you.”

He won’t, Paul knows, because Darry is and always has been too good for this earth, and that hasn’t changed even if he now wears anger the way he used to wear arrogance- but he isn’t going to test that theory. There’s plenty of other greaser kids to jump that don’t come with dredging up the worst memories of his past.

Darry gives him one last disgusted look and spits at his feet, before his gaze slides to Paul’s captor. Tim, Darry had called him earlier.

“Ready to go?” The ever so slight softness in Darry’s eyes when he looks at Tim- crazy fucking Tim who is holding Paul at knifepoint- shouldn’t bother him nearly as much as it does. The fact that it bothers him at all leaves a bitter twist in his stomach.

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, “I'll be there in a second. You go check on the kid, the way he was walkin’ I think he mighta sprained his ankle.”

Darry nods, concern lighting once more in his eyes, and he jogs over to the car, immediately shaking his kid brother awake who had fallen asleep against the window.

Tim’s knife skates over Paul's neck, not deepening the shallow cut, but definitely drawing it longer.

“Listen here Holden,” he practically croons, pulling Paul’s head back, “you and I both know Darry would never make good on his promise. I on the other hand,” the knife flashes and Tim opens yet another cut on his cheek. Paul howls. “Have no such qualms. So if you go near any of the Curtis boys ever again, I will kill you.” His voice softens, a murmur so low Paul can hardly hear it despite Tim being quite literally right beside him, “I’ve done it before. I know how to not get caught. So if you think for a second that I am lying…”

He turns Paul in his grip so they’re suddenly face to face. 

“Call my bluff.”

He shoves him, hard, and Paul stumbles back, landing hard on his ass beside Ty who seems only semi conscious, lying supine on the ground. 

Tim smiles, like he didn’t just threaten Paul’s life and confess to murder in the same breath, before turning on his heel and making his way over to the car, climbing into the driver's seat.

Paul’s past and his new bogeyman drive away and he sits in the ditch for a long time, too terrified- or maybe just too shocked- to move.

[pagannatural]

2.16 Roadkill

- this episode starts off from the victim character’s perspective, Molly, so we see the brothers through her eyes much of the episode. She notices the brothers communicating with their eyes a lot, the camera focuses on their shared looks and reactions to her. It shows how well they know each other to communicate nonverbally like that.

- Molly says she and her husband “only ever really argued when we were stuck in the car” and Sam can relate because he and his husband also get on each others’ nerves being stuck in the car together.

Dean glares at him because he doesn’t like his personal life being shared with strangers or ghosts.

- Sam and Dean are aggressively giving married vibes. When Sam introduces himself, he doesn’t say “and this is my brother Dean” like he normally would. I’m pretty sure that throughout the episode Sam and Dean’s relationship is never clarified to Molly and they are heavily couple-coded:

Sam is the softer one, reassuring Molly it’ll be okay, Dean is more frank and takes charge. They speak using the royal we, work together as a team, and have little moments of influencing each other’s behavior the way couples do. For example, Dean telling her they’re hunting ghosts and Sam exasperatedly saying “don’t sugarcoat it for her.” She’s incredulous about ghosts and Dean says “crazier things have happened, huh?” hitting Sam’s arm and smirking playfully. It comes across as a warm, intimate little interaction, not like siblings bickering. Later, Sam insists on burying the bones they find because it’s important to him. Dean doesn’t want to at first, but of course he can’t say no to his wife. Sam is the one with the emotional influence who seems to have the last say, even though he appears to be gentler, filling the archetypal role of the feminine in the relationship. I would be surprised if she thought they were anything other than a couple.

- Sam is the one who looks after Molly and shows her more kindness. He has so much empathy for this ghost who can’t move on from her lost love, her husband. Sam is also the one who feels so uncomfortable with keeping from her that she can’t be with her husband.

It seems to really get to him, this woman pining for her impossible love. Like he knows what that’s like, pining for someone he can’t have. There is no romantic relationship this could really be for Sam, which makes me think it’s Dean. In reality, Molly’s husband moved on from her with a new family just like Sam thinks Dean should and will move on from him. He knows at this point that’s the truth of her story.

Sam can also relate to the fact that many ghosts “weren’t evil people. A lot of them were good, just something happened to them” as he grapples with his own fate. I wonder if on some level he sees Dean as what happened to him to make him feel like a monster.

- Molly says “she didn’t want to live without him” (her love) when they find a skeleton and Dean glances at her like this hits him.

He has proven and expressed that he does not want to live without Sam. He can relate to her too, he just tries to act tough.

- Sam tells Dean about an old country custom of planting a tree to mark a grave and Dean tells him “you’re like a walking encyclopedia of weirdness” and Sam says “yeah, I know,” like he’s genuinely hurt. Dean seems aware of Sam’s feelings for him, which adds another layer to this kind of interaction between them.

- episode theme is about blindness to the truth and inability to accept reality. Sam and Dean continue to struggle with accepting their reality too in terms of Sam’s future, but the other (stronger) parallel is the brothers’ relationship in comparison to Molly and her husband’s. She can’t accept a devastating truth about herself and the man that she loves, and throughout the episode Sam and Dean act just like a married couple. Their relationship is steeped in angst and tension because of their love for each other, because Dean won’t kill Sam no matter what he becomes. There are truths about themselves and their relationship that are too painful to accept.