#but I’ve also been given the clear expectation that I’m being watched

[thebrandonross]

A warm day in January.

[lovelybucky1]

Special Request

Kinktober Day 2- Anal Sex

warnings: AFAB!reader, anal sex, anal toys, sex work, pre-established scene, unprotected sex, creampies, f!masturbation, 18+ minors dni

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

being a call girl for the richest businessmen in america was a high profile job. not only was desertion and privacy required of you, you were also expected to keep up with your clients’ sexual desires.

most of them were tame, not requiring too much physicality. most of them wanted to worship you. unsurprisingly, powerful men like to be submissive in the bedroom. it didn’t take much work on your end to lay back and let them put their hands and mouth on you, occasionally giving praise and direction that made their cocks leak.

one client, however, stands out from the rest. he is very dominant and demanding. when you first met him, he made his desires clear to you.

“when i’m paying you, i own you. i dont care if you have other clients or a husband or a kid. when you’re with me, i’m the only thing you think about. before each session i’ll give you a list of things to prepare and give you money if you have to buy anything. then you’ll come here at 5:15 to set up and be ready for me when i get home from work. i’ve given the security guards notice that you’ll be coming and they’ll let you in. i will tip very generously for your services, but if that is not enough incentive to keep up with my needs, we will part ways.”

you agreed to his terms and since then, things with mr. fischer have been wonderful. he does, in fact, tip very generously, but that is nothing compared to how he is in bed.

he expects obedience but will also occasionally instruct you to disobey so he can punish you. he gets off on power and control, and he makes sure to constantly display both of those with you.

he texted you two days ago sending details about tonight’s session. he was short and to the point as always.

red lace. buttplug- brand new, never been used. dark makeup. i want you stretched and prepped with the plug when i get there.

along with the message he sent $40 for the plug he wanted you to buy. later that day you went out to the sex shop and bought one you thought he’d like. now, robert was going to be home any minute and you’re dressed and prepped exactly how he wants.

“front door open,” the robotic voice from the security system announces.

you tremble slightly in anticipation as you hear his shined shoes click on the hardwood stairs. you left the door to the bedroom open per his request. he made it clear that you’re a toy for him to use, not his wife preparing a cheeky surprise.

mr fischer has a lot of hang ups, but he pays well and has a wonderful cock, so you put up with it.

he walks through the door and lets out a deep sigh when he sees you. though you’re face down on the bed, you hear the familiar rustling of his clothes and can picture what he’s doing behind you perfectly.

he’s loosened his tie and unclipped his cuff links, placing them on the dish on the dresser. then he shrugs his suit jacket off and drapes it over the chair he likes to watch you from occasionally. you can’t hear his steps on the carpeted floor, so his cool hand on your ass makes you jump.

“hello, sir,” you greet him. he says nothing in return.

his thumbs trace over the lace edges of your panties, taking in the scarlet color that he loves so much. he then begins to knead your ass cheeks, digging fingers into your soft flesh hard enough to bruise. without warning, he brings his hand back and spanks you, the slap ringing through the bedroom. you successfully stifle your whimper.

clearly not in the mood for foreplay, robert grabs the waistband of your panties and tugs them down so they gather at the crook of your knees. you chose a cheeky pair of panties, wanting something that will hide the base of the plug until they’re completely off.

from behind you, robert lets out a low groan. you chose a silver plug with a red jewel that glitters in the dim light of the bedroom. he pushes on the base with his thumb, watching you take it deeper before it moves back out when he takes away the pressure.

while you would like to be talked to, you understand that this is mr. fischer’s stress relief. he’s pent up from a long week at work, but once he’s closer to cumming, he won’t be able to shut up.

robert grasps the end of the plug and slowly pulls it out. he waits until the widest part of the plug is stretching you before pushing it back in. he repeats this, slowly fucking you with the bulb and watching as your cunt drips.

mercifully, he pulls the plug out and tosses it to the floor. it makes a faint thud, then you hear the sound of a zipper. robert slaps his cock on your right cheek, leaving a sticky patch of precum behind. he spits on your hole and pushes his blunt head against it.

he doesn't ask if you're ready or give any warning before he starts to push in. despite wearing a plug, there is still a bit of a stretch. he goes slow, but unrelenting. once he's fully seated inside you, he grabs you by the hips and uses his hold as leverage to fuck you.

"tight fuckin' ass," he groans.

the slow drag of his cock inside you makes your toes curl. you know he isn't doing this for your benefit, for your pleasure, but in some way, that makes you enjoy it more. he's using you like a fleshlight, just a warm hole to stick his dick in.

lewd squelches come from behind you as he fucks into you, using you for his own pleasure. his cock stimulates your g-spot from a different angle than you’re used to and it makes you dizzy, abdomen burning with need.

“you’re so fucking good,” he says, thrusting harder.

you try not to make noise, wanting to be a perfect toy for him, but it’s hard to suppress the whines he’s punching out of you.

“who owns this ass?” he asks, giving you a spank.

“you do, sir,” you whine.

speak when spoken to is the rule he likes you to follow. and when you do speak, you must use a title showing your respect.

“i’m gonna cum in you, honey. fill you ‘til you’re fucking dripping with it.”

robert loves to cum inside. to him, it’s the final display of ownership during sex. after a few hard, rough thrusts, robert’s cock twitches and the first spurts of cum fill you.

“fuck,” he hisses through his teeth.

he pulls your hips flush against yours and moves you onto him, pushing and pulling rapidly to milk his cock dry.

it was over too quickly for your liking, but he’s not paying you to cum on his cock. you’re here for his pleasure and nothing else.

robert stays inside you for a few moments to catch his breath, then he pulls out slowly, careful not to let any cum escape. he then picks up the plug from the floor, wipes it off on his suit pants, and slides it back into you.

“good girl,” he says, tapping your ass as a single to sit up.

robert beings to undress fully in front of you, but there isn’t anything sexual about it besides his enticing body. he isn’t putting on a show for you.

he leaves his expensive suit in a crumple on the floor, uncaring that it will get wrinkled. his dry cleaner will make it neat again, and if not, he can buy ten more just like it as a replacement.

“i’m gonna go shower. money’s on the dresser. feel free to get yourself off before you go.” he says casually.

he walks out of the bedroom and into the master bathroom. you watch his ass until your vision is obstructed by the door.

you sigh and scoot up the bed to bury your face in his pillow, inhaling the masculine scent of aftershave and shampoo.

you slide your hand down your front and begin to rub your clit. you wish, just once, he’d request a longer session. one where he fucks you thoroughly and makes you cum repeatedly before the night is through.

[sailor-aviator]

Baboons and Flesh Wounds

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Trigger Warnings: Language, Suggestive thoughts, Suggestive commentary, Jake being crass, Bradley and Boots in their feelings, Bradley's horny thoughts, caressing of female body parts. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2.7k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3 || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List

You had settled into an easy routine over the past two weeks, the first trying to iron out the different kinks. Dr. Kazansky had determined that your ankle would take around four weeks to heal if you kept off of it, and as it turned out, Bradley was more than happy to assist. You could think of only a handful of times that you had been on your feet, the large man appearing first thing in the morning to carry you around camp.

Of course, the boys had given you endless shit about it, Jake being the loudest. The second morning after your accident, Bradley had waited for you outside your tent as you changed, his deep, brown eyes surveying the jungle stoically. He had wordlessly scooped you up in his arms as you hobbled towards the entrance, carrying you effortlessly to where the others were already gathered for breakfast. Javy had raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Bob was too busy going over something with Ice to pay you much mind. Jake had walked over from his tent at the same time and let out a loud snort at the sight of you.

“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” He had snickered, gesturing to where you clung to Bradley. “Is he a taxi service now?”

“I’ve already tried explaining to him that I don’t need him to carry me everywhere,” you scowled at the blond. Bradley placed you gently on the bench before plopping down right next to you, Jake taking up the space on your other side. “He’s just insistent upon doing it, is all.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” he drawled as Javy placed a plate of eggs in front of you, “I’d think you like him carrying you around everywhere.”

You cast him a sideways glance as you shoveled a fork full of egg into your mouth, brow pinched together in indignation.

“I don’t.”

“Sure,” Jake hummed, giving you a knowing look before bumping your shoulder with his. “And jungle man over there also doesn’t get a hard on every time he looks at you.”

“Jake!” You exclaimed, cheeks warming as Javy cackled and Maverick cleared his throat, his own cheeks growing a nice shade of pink at the turn in the conversation. Bob and Ice looked over at the two of you, matching shocked expressions on their faces.

“Don’t be crass,” you hissed at the blond, swatting at his arm. He rolled his eyes, accepting the plate Javy handed him with a quiet thanks.

“Is it really being crass if I’m telling the truth?”

“Yes,” you snapped, cognizant of the fact Bradley had been inching closer to you as each moment passed. Jake rolled his eyes at you, but said nothing more.

The next couple of days had you struggling to figure out how to do various chores around the camp. Cooking was easy enough until you needed to get up and grab something.

The first time you had stood up, Bradley’s head had shot up from where he was flipping through one of the sketchbooks Ice had laying about. His honey-colored eyes watched you intently as a frown tugged on his lips, standing when you made to move.

“No,” he said, pushing down on your shoulders gently.

“Bradley, I have to-”

“No,” he said again, more firmly this time, eyes intense and brows pinched. “Hurt.”

“I’m not so hurt that I can’t walk the three feet to grab a spoon,” you scowled at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, turning and walking the few, short steps across the eating area to pluck a spoon out of the container and bringing it to you. You accepted it with a huff, not missing the satisfied smirk that appeared on his face at the small victory.

Laundry was done down by the river, an ever watchful Bradley sitting on one of the stones beside you as you scrubbed the various articles of clothing. He watched you carefully, an unreadable expression on his face as you worked through your task.

After the first half hour, you began to grow increasingly self conscious once you realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for more than a couple of seconds at a time the entire time you two had sat there.

“Aren’t you bored?” You asked him, wrinkling your nose. “I mean, it can’t be fun to just sit here and watch me do all this. Wouldn’t you prefer to help Mav or Ice or someone else? I’m sure they’re having much more fun than we are.”

Bradley’s gaze hardened in confusion. Shaking his head, he shifted slightly, leaning closer towards you.

“Like being with you,” he murmured, the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. The heat on your cheeks had nothing to do with the sweltering jungle heat, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending to inspect a stain on one of Javy’s shirts. Your eyes darted up when Bradley crept towards you, and for a moment, you were reminded that this man was raised by apes, not humans. His leg stretched out to rest beside you, the rest of him slinking after until he crouched right in front of you, his nose almost brushing yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as he reached a hand up to brush his fingers across your cheek. His eyes darted down, lingering on your lips as they parted. A shiver ran up your spine as his fingers trailed down, running over your bottom lip, and the intense look in his eye became hungry as you let out a quiet gasp. He let his fingers linger for a second before pulling them away and towards a strand of hair that hung in your face. Slowly, he pushed it back behind your ear, letting his palm cradle your jaw as the two of you sat silently watching each other.

The sound of jungle leaves rustling broke the two of you out of your trance, and Bradley let out a growl as he positioned himself in front of you, glaring intensely at the spot where the noise was coming from.

“Hey, you two!” Maverick called, coming into view with a smile. Bradley immediately relaxed back into his spot beside you, but the frown remained. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was annoyed. You cleared your throat, your head still clouded from the intensity of the prior moment.

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted, attempting a smile that you were sure came out as more of a grimace. “What brings you by?”

“Oh nothing,” he grinned. “Just wanted to see if you needed any help with the laundry. It’s very kind of you to offer to do it while you heal up. I know it’s not the greatest chore.”

“I want to feel useful,” you offered, shrugging.

“Well, nevertheless, it’s appreciated,” Mav smiled. “Do you need any help carrying everything back?”

“No,” Bradley snapped, leveling Mav with a glare. The older man looked a little taken aback by the ferocity of Bradley’s answer, but recovered quickly, shooting you a brief, knowing look.

“I see,” he hummed, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “Well, if the two of you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the camp. Once he was out of sight, Bradley huffed, turning back to look at you.

“What’s got you so grumpy?” you asked him, chuckling slightly. Bradley didn’t answer, instead, reaching out to twirl a strand of your hair in between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose and taking a long, deep inhale before giving you another heavy look. Your cheeks heated up once more before you ducked your head down to start the process of scrubbing the laundry once again. You tried not to think about how Bradley’s muscles had bulged when he was crouched in front of you or how his intense look made your thighs clench together.

You were sitting in one of the research tents a week later, transcribing some notes for Dr. Kazansky the following week, having begged the older man for ways to be of use given you were slowly losing your mind doing all of the mundane chores. Bradley was perched in a chair next to you, flipping through the rough sketches Bob had made of some of the baboons and wrinkling his nose.

“What’s that face for?” You giggled, glancing over at him. Bradley huffed and shook his head, giving you a solemn look.

“Baboons are annoying.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you looked at him fully. Bradley’s gaze softened as he listened to you laugh, a tinge of pink coating his cheeks.

“Yeah?” You asked him. “How so?”

Bradley straightened up in his seat, rolling his eyes as he thought back to the countless run-ins he’s had with the creatures.

“They scream a lot,” he scowled, lips pursed as he gives you a serious look. “And they steal my food sometimes. It’s hard to catch them because they climb the trees so fast.”

You had quickly grown used to how articulate Bradley actually was over the course of the last week and a half. You supposed it was no surprise considering he’d had ten years of practice, but even Tom had seemed surprised when he walked in on Bradley telling you a story one day, the younger man animatedly telling you a story about a trick he played on one of the younger members of the gorilla troop he lived with. Now you wondered if the older two men even knew if Bradley could string together more than a couple of short sentences.

His sentences could still be choppy at times and his answers short and direct, sure, but the more you showed interest in what he had to say, the more he found himself opening up and saying more. Bradley found that he liked the way you reacted to what he had to say, and he tried to practice at night once he knew you were asleep. He found himself visiting with Maverick and Tom more, asking them questions about different words for different feelings and ideas. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted you to know him, to know what he thought about things and how he felt about the world. Maybe it was because he wanted to know those things about you too and to talk about them with you.

“They are pretty fast, huh?” You asked, leaning forward a little more, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and exaggerating your cleavage. Bradley’s eyes flickered down, and he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He found that this feeling also happened quite frequently around you, and it was often the simplest of things that set it off. It happened when he watched you bend over and dry your hair after a bath one day. It happened when you stretched after sitting hunched over too long, your back arching as you raised your arms over your head. It happened sometimes when you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip captured between your teeth.

He shifted in his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from your chest. He felt an overwhelming need to touch them, to touch you. He often found himself thinking of you. How good you smelled. How soft you were. He wanted to touch you, to mark you as his.

The troop leader, Mutubo Tom had named him, had several offspring, so Bradley wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of mating, or sex as Tom and Maverick called it. However, he wasn’t so sure that his family experienced what he was feeling, at least to this extent. Without thinking, Bradley reached out, running his fingertips over the exposed skin, his shorts growing tighter as he felt the soft, warm skin.

You sucked in a breath, your cheeks heating and eyes going wide as Bradley caressed you. His gaze was intense as he touched you, and you felt a shiver run up your spine when his brown eyes darted up to meet your own. The brown was practically swallowed by black, and you had to muster all of your self control to not throw yourself at him then and there.

“I should, um,” you stuttered after a second, “I should go see if Maverick has started dinner yet.”

You stood abruptly, Bradley following suit. He moved to pick you up, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“No, I,” you sucked in a breath, “it’s not that far. I think I’ll try walking there.”

Bradley frowned at you, but before he could argue, you beelined out of the tent and into the open air. It was unprofessional to be acting this way, especially with someone who didn’t understand the intricacies of human relationships.

The end of the week brought movie night, and you were giddy when you remembered that it was your turn to pick. Jake and Javy groaned loudly when they saw your choice. You ignored them, taking a seat on one of the couches Maverick and Tom had managed to snag while in the city not too terribly long ago. Bradley immediately sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, filling you with an odd sense of comfort.

“What are we watching?” Bob asked as he entered the tent.

“The Princess Bride,” you grinned as Jake plopped down on your other side.

“You couldn’t have picked anything with explosions?” He asked, wrinkling his nose at you in mock disgust. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly.

“The Princess Bride is a classic,” you argued. “Don’t be such a guy.”

“I think the Princess Bride is great,” Bob offered, earning dual eye rolls from both Javy and Jake.

“You would,” Jake threw back at the bespectacled man with a grin.

“Explosions and gun fights does not a movie make,” Bob scowled. “It’s good to mix it up every now and then.”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “I had to sit through so many hours of Fast and Furious of all things. The least you can do is sit quietly through my movie.”

“Hey, do not knock the Fast and the Furious,” Javy warned, raising his pointer finger at you with a serious look. You rolled your eyes once more but let out a giggle.

“I’ll stop knocking the Fast and the Furious when the movies start being good,” you grinned.

“So, never,” Bob snorted, earning scowls from the other two men. Before the argument could continue, both Maverick and Tom strolled into the tent.

“Oh, The Princess Bride,” Mav grinned, plopping down onto the other couch, Tom not too far behind. “One of my favorites!”

Once everyone was settled, you started the movie, absentmindedly curling into Bradley’s side more and more as the minutes stretched on. Bradley’s fingers came up to play with the strands of your hair, unknowingly lulling you into a deep sleep.

Bradley knew the second you fell asleep, and he smiled softly as he listened to your breathing even out as you relaxed against him. He liked this. He liked how safe you felt with him and how at ease you made him feel. Bradley was somewhat paying attention to scenes in front of him, lost in thought as he tried to understand what was going on. There was one thing that stood out to him, though. A word, actually. He had heard Maverick and Tom say it to each other on rare occasions, but Bradley had never given it much thought before he met you. But, when he saw the two characters on the screen look at each other and say that word, he felt that it might be important. That maybe he should ask them what it meant. You stirred against him, and Bradley felt an ache in his chest as he looked down at your sleeping form. His curiosity could wait for now, he thought. He’d make sure to ask Tom and Maverick what it meant later. For now, he just wanted to stay by your side.

A/N: Reminder to everyone that I am redoing my tag lists! If you haven't added yourself to the new one, please do so! I will also not tag you if you do not have an age listed on your blog or your blog is blank, so if you sign up for the tag list, please make sure you add your age and fill in your blog! As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. You can also find my works on AO3 under sailor_aviator. If you enjoy my writing, try checking out some of my other series as well and/or leave me a tip if you feel compelled to do so!

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[house-of-kolchek]

Aw, Rats!

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

@obsessedwithtoomanythings here. I’ve given into my obsession with the man. The myth. The absolute fucking legend. Have 2000 words of tropes and cliches because Leon S. Kennedy DEMANDS tooth rotting fluff. Also takes place during Infinite Darkness because dilf leon is choking me.

Word Count: 2.2k

Check out my page for more!

You didn’t like submarines. 

The metal structure around you groaned, reminding you of the literal tons of litres of water that waited just on the other side of the walls. One pinprick through that barrier, and life as you knew it could be over. Not to mention the endless depths absolutely full of weird creatures that could be lurking anywhere.

Zombies, you could handle. But the ocean? Fuuuuuuuck no.

Your foot tapped incessantly against the ground, echoing lightly throughout the room you stood in. It felt cramped - much like every other room in the submersible - with small, rounded walls that threatened to swallow you whole. One of the chairs squeaked across the room, and you lifted your gaze from the ground.

Leon stood to face you, reaching to swipe a stray hair from his forehead. In a second, you were fully distracted from your discomfort, your senses zeroing in on the man. His gaze caught yours, locking you in place as he reached for the hand you had just been picking at. With a brow raised, he brushed his thumb across the reddening skin of your knuckle, effectively stealing any remnant of breath you had.

“Gonna be okay there?” he asked, all low and husky. You blinked, your mind taking too long to process his words. Forcing a breath through your nostrils, you nodded your head, a little stiffer than usual.

“Just peachy. You know how much I love being confined in an underwater death trap.”

Hey. At least you were being half honest with him.

Leon masked his laugh with a long exhale, his lips quirking upwards. His thumb brushed over your knuckles again, your skin catching on the seam of his glove, and you had to swallow back another short burst of breath. 

“I’m never gonna be able to convince you that these things are not underwater death traps, but a perfectly safe method of transportation, am I?” he sighed, rolling his eyes in a playful manner. Your own lips twitched into a smile. 

“Nope. So when we end up dying in an underwater blaze, just know I’ll be blaming you,” you retorted, acutely aware of the grip he still had on your hand.

“Well we can’t have that,” he tutted, “Is there any way I can repay you for this atrocity I’ve committed?”

“You can pay for my therapy bills.”

“How about dinner instead?”

You blinked again, willing the heat that formed in your cheeks to disperse. As if he could read your mind, Leon smirked, leaning just a touch closer, enough so you could barely feel the breath from his nose dance across your face.

“Only if I get to pick the restaurant.” You cringed at your words. What kind of flirting was that?

And yet, a light blush covered Leon’s cheeks, and you wondered if the tone of your voice caught him off guard. It had come out slightly more husky than you’d expected. Leon’s lips parted, a sentence finally beginning to form on his tongue, when a sharp voice cut from behind you.

“Will you two just fuck already?”

If you thought you were blushing before, this would have been the next level.

You were sure your face grew as bright as Leon’s, his eyes widening as his gaze darted to your lips, ever so briefly. He cleared his throat, stepping back from you and swiftly exiting the room. Your face felt like it was on fire as your gaze slid to Shen Mei. Her lips curved into a devious smirk, watching as you stumbled for composure.

“What the hell?” You hissed, and she shrugged. Shrugged.

“We’re all thinking it,” she chuckled, eyeing you once again. “I know you’re thinking it.”

With a groan, you slid to the floor, not even bothering to find a chair. Why were you so obvious?

You hated this push and pull between the two of you. Leon Kennedy was a smart, capable man, fronting one impossible mission after the other. For someone who’d been through so much, to keep that playful attitude and those half-crooked grins… it drew your level of respect and affection for the man even higher. But you were merely a partner, another agent. Hell, you weren’t even one of the agents he chose to partake in extracurricular activities with.

But still. Leon was a good person, and like it or not, he had your heart. So you’d spend your days supporting him, watching his back and indulging in his banters and his flirting, no matter how much it ached in your chest. 

“He’s really got you fucked up, doesn’t he?” Shen Mei commented again, earning her another sharp glare. Of course, as an outsider it would be funny to see someone flounder and flail in their own pool of emotions. But to you, it was like you were drowning in them, facing wave after wave head-on. 

“Shuddup,” you mustered, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes before letting your hands run down your face. “‘m fine.”

She snorted, gesturing to the chair that looked so inviting across the other end of the metal table. It looked like an ass-shredder, but it had to be better than the floor. 

You lifted yourself from the floor, barely reaching a crouched position before a force on the ground sent you toppling forwards. Your forehead cracked off the edge of the table, sending a sharp stab of pain across your face. You faintly heard Shen Mei’s voice ringing out, and a hand across your shoulder. The sensation left just as quickly though, as the walls creaked around you and you found yourself pitching backwards, landing awkwardly on your spine. 

You blinked, stars dancing across your vision as the lights grew dark, replacing the world around you in a deep red hue. Bringing your hand up to your forehead, you groaned as your fingers grew damp. The table must have cut through your skin, as you surveyed the blood across your fingers, looking nearly black under the emergency lighting. 

The emergency lighting. 

Emergency.

“Shit!” you cursed, hauling yourself to your feet, only to stumble against the wall as a spell of dizziness consumed you. “Fuck.”

Blinking the stars away again, your stomach dropped at the empty room. Had Shen Mei left you? Just like that? A sense of unease settled in your chest, blending with a strange kind of hurt. Why would she have just left you?

You shook your head, rising unsteady to your feet. If there was something wrong with the sub, you needed to get the fuck out of there, with or without Shen Mei. Stumbling the first few steps, you kept a hand on the wall next to you as you exited the room.

It was strangely empty, the infinite darkness from the power outage creeping in on you. Something felt off. You took two steps to the left, hesitating on the third. With a glance in either direction, your stomach really started to turn.

Which way was out?

Your growing fear was amplified tenfold as a crash rang through the hall, followed by what sounded to be some sort of high pitched ringing. Squinting against the darkness, you strained to make out any shapes, ignoring the dull aching in your head, until-

“Leon? What are you- ARE THOSE RATS?”

You barely caught his gaze, watching his brows scrunch together at the sight of you, before his hand caught your wrist to drag you along with him, not even faltering in his pace. 

“Yep!” He cried, yanking you forward on unsteady feet. The sudden rush of movement sent your head spinning again, and you tripped against the ground, shuddering at the brush of fur against your ankles.

“Leon wait! I can’t-” you choked on nothing, hissing as another wave of pain coursed through your head. Stumbling again, Leon finally slowed his pace. His hand found your jaw, tilting your head towards him for a brief moment, and then he was guiding you behind him, unholstering his handgun.

In your daze, you barely processed the sharp gunshot that rang through the cabin. Nor did you notice the second one. Before you could blink, an arm was around your waist, hauling your feet off the ground with a jolt.

You blinked, senses slowly returning to you, only to realize you were dangling just above a mass of water, electricity and… dying rats. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around Leon, digging your nails into his jacket and curling your legs around him. He grunted at the movement, his arm tightening its hold against your waist. 

“Oh my God!” you cried, reaching a free arm to find your own grip on the structure he was dangling from. “Here- you’re gonna fall, get another grip on it!” Leon blinked, his gaze flickering from the water below to your expression, darting up again to what you assumed was a nasty gash across your forehead. 

“I’ll be fine,” he grunted, straining against your combined weight. “Don’t want you to lose your balance and fall.”

The swell in your heart was suppressed by your concern as he grumbled once more. You tried to ignore the pain as you supported more of your own weight, feeling Leon’s grip loosen only slightly to allow your adjustment. You watched his brows furrow and relax again, a heavy breath escaping his lips and fanning against the side of your cheek. You sucked in a breath of your own, willing the images of his lips out of your head. 

“That’s a nasty cut there,” he commented, as if there weren’t hundreds of rats burning to death just inches below your feet. “You okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” you parroted, at least somewhat unintentionally. He shot you a look, and you couldn’t help the twitch in your lips. “When the sub crashed or whatever I fell and clipped the table.” Leon nodded his head, his brows knitting together again.

“What about Shen Mei?”

“I dunno,” you gulped, letting your gaze fall to the side. It almost felt like his face was growing closer to yours. “She was there one second and gone the next. I think-” you sighed, your own brows knitting together. “I think she might have left me.”

Leon’s grip tightened on you, his expression hardening until it looked like stone. He glared daggers into the water that you were just beginning to realize had washed away. 

“Leon?”

His gaze found yours, expression softening ever so slightly.

“When we find her…” he trailed off. Though there wasn’t an obvious threat in his tone, you could still sense his distrust. There was a hardened edge to his voice, as if he were angry with something. As he stared off against the side of the sub, you cleared your throat, uttering his name once again.

“Hmm?”

“The water’s washed away,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the damp metallic flooring. Leon simply hummed again, hesitating in the moment with his arm still tight around your waist. It may have been the solid throbbing in the back of your head, or the fact that you’d literally just run away from a swarm of demonic rats, but it felt as though the energy changed between you. It grew thicker, more charged with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

After another beat, Leon finally muttered a warning, and you dropped your arms around his neck again as he let go of the bar above, landing steady on the ground beneath you. His arm slipped from your waist, his free hand reaching up to brace each of your arms as you swayed. 

In that moment you felt his breath against your cheeks again, sending a warm shudder down your spine. Glancing up, you were met with his intent stare, the shocking blue of his eyes glowing bright even in the dim, flashing red of the room. His gaze drew you in, and you didn’t realize you were leaning closer until your chests touched. 

“You okay?” he breathed, low and soft. His voice had an extra scratch to it, his hands tightening on your arms as yours fell to his waist. 

“Yeah-” Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat, catching an amused glint flash in his eyes. “Yes, I’m okay. How about you, muscles?” 

Leon chuckled at your teasing, his stomach tightening as you poked at his abs. God, they were more defined than you’d been expecting, and your mouth grew a little dry.

“‘m good.” He reached up, his hand hovering over the sore spot on your forehead before brushing a few strands of hair away from the space. Your eyes fluttered shut, and in that moment, you felt his lips just barely brush across your temple. 

Cue the barrage of butterflies in your stomach.

“C’mon,” Leon took your hand, slowly breaking away from whatever embrace you’d been locked in. “Let’s go find those assholes that got us into this mess. I have some words I’d like to share.”

[telekineticseance]

STUDY BUDDIES

pairing: ted logan x afab! reader

summary: your teacher gives you the assignment of tutoring one of the dumbest kids in school

genre: smut

word count: 1895

cw: p in v, dick riding

author’s note: this is mainly for @animulnitrate because they asked so nicely and they're my roomie so i can't say no

“Help out Ted Logan? The guy who thinks Joan of Arc is Noah’s wife?” You asked your teacher, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You were usually fine with tutoring others but when it came to Ted Logan, it was a lost cause. He barely knew basic math, spending hours with him trying to teach him history would be a nightmare.

“Yes..I know it’ll be hard at first but he needs to pass this exam or else he’s not passing the year and he’ll have to repeat a grade.” Mr.Ryan, your history teacher, explained to you He knew how bad Ted was and Ted’s best friend Bill was just as bad. You couldn’t imagine being in his shoes and having to teach not one of them, but both of them, at the same time. You let out a sigh of agreement and nodded before walking out of the class running into Ted at the end of the hallway.

“Whoa hey there Dudette! Gotta watch where you’re going.” He said, his hands holding onto your arms as he looked down at you with a grin on his face. You scoffed slightly at him while rolling your eyes and brushing his hands away. “Look Logan, I’ve been given the task of tutoring you tonight in preparation for your exam.”

Ted chuckled while nodding his head, his hair bouncing in the process, “Well alright! Alone time with a babe like you? I’m so down!” You hid back a giggle, as he smiled down at you. “Uh yeah..right. So do you want to study at your place?” You asked him.

“My place sounds sick!” You nodded as he gave you his address and the two of you parted ways before you went to the rest of your classes.

—

You walked up the steps to Ted’s front door and knocked gently, while holding onto the bag on your shoulder with your other hand. You heard footsteps run down the stairs before a loud bang on the door and the door opened revealing a disheveled Ted with one of those grins on his face, “My savior! Come in.” He said, moving to the side so you can walk in. You walk past him, looking around at the decorations, expecting to see something the total opposite than the preppy vibes you were viewing.

Ted lightly grabbed your arm and led you up the stairs, “Come on we can go to my room!” He ran up the stairs with you closely behind before leading you to a bedroom which was a lot more like you expected. The bed was unmade with posters plastered in random spots all over the walls of different movies and rock bands. Including some homemade posters of something called Wyld Stallyns. He stood in front of you throwing his arms in the air, “Presenting tu casa!”

You paused looking at him, “Actually..” You started before he dropped his hands and raised his eyebrow and you stopped, “Nevermind. Yes this is tu casa.” He grinned while nodding again before sitting down on his bed with a plop and you took your bag off your shoulder, sitting next to him before pulling out books. You sat your history book in your lap, opening it to a page before turning to him, “Okay so I thought I would start with the beginning and then just going through at whatever pace is more comfortable for you?” You asked him, looking over as he looked down at the book in your lip while nodding.

As the two of you looked through the book, Ted would inch closer to where your legs would be touching and you’d scoot away a little more. He would also move his hand close to yours as you held the pages open, lightly stroking his pinky against your hand in the process. Every time he’d try you would awkwardly clear your throat and move away from him, but he’d just go back to trying. Eventually Ted took a deep breath before looking at you, “You know…you’re quite the babe.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him as he grinned that same grin he’s had practically all night. “Thank..you?” His eyes widened a little bit and he shifted his position to look at you more, “No what I meant was you’re bodacious! Uh..a sight to see! Hot!” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle at his actions, he wasn’t smart but you did think he was cute at times. He blushed slightly, looking back down at the book, pointing at a picture of Napoleon, “Who’s the guy with the funny hat?”

You started to tell him the history of Napoleon Bonaparte and the French Revolution as he listened closely, nodding while you talked. Eventually you were interrupted by Ted moving in close, kissing you deeply. Your eyes widened as you pulled away and looked at him, “Oh I’m sorry.” He apologized, putting his hand over his mouth. You sat there in shock before leaning in and kissing him yourself. He slowly moved his hand up to your arms, stroking them as the two of you kissed. Your hands gripped onto the black vest he was always wearing as you deepened the kiss.

He pulled away, his lips a dark shade of pink from the kiss as he looked down at you, “Whoa.” He grinned as he slowly opened his eyes, almost as if he were in a trance. You felt your face heat up as you nodded. He bit his bottom lip slightly looking in your eyes, as his hand lightly stroked your cheek.  “Can we do that again?” He asked gently, leaning closer again. You nodded, caressing his cheek before kissing him again. You repositioned yourself, letting the history book fall to the floor as you sat in front of him on your knees.

Both of your hands were on the sides of his face, while his hands moved to your waist. Your tongue explored his mouth as he let out a few hums during the kiss. You slipped off the vest from his torso, and started to pull at his shirt before he put his hands on yours, pulling away. “I can’t.” He whispered against your lips. You pulled your hands away and distanced yourself from him, “Oh.”

“No no I want to,” He corrected before thinking for a minute, “But I just…I wouldn’t know what to do.” He mumbled, looking down at his lap, picking at one of the patches on his shorts. Did he mean? You lifted his face, looking into his eyes, “Have you done anything like this before?” He shook his head, looking into your eyes. You thought for a minute before moving close to him, “I can teach you..if you’d want.”

He smiled as he looked at you, “You would?” You nodded slowly as he nodded back, “Okay!” You giggled while rolling your eyes playfully before kissing him again, leaning him back against the headboard. You straddled his lap, moving your hands to start pulling off the shirt again. He moved his hands to your waist, pulling you close to him. Your hands moved to your own shirt, pulling it over your head as Ted watched, his eyes widening once he saw you in your bra. His gaze lingered on your chest, “Do you want me to take this off too?” You asked him, tracing your fingers along the lace of your bra. He gulped, nodding slowly as you unclasped your bra, pulling it off and putting it next to the two of you.

His eyes stayed focused on your chest, as you felt his length growing against your crotch. You bit your bottom lip before Ted leaned in, placing wet kisses on your chest before placing his lips on your nipple. Lightly sucking and biting on it, causing you to let out a moan. Your fingers tangled into his hair before he pulled away and looked up at you, “Is this okay?” You nodded slowly and he moved his mouth to your other nipple before repeating the process.

You moved your hips, grinding your crotch against his. He pulled his mouth away, letting out a breath of air while closing his eyes tight from the feeling. He looked up at you, his lids barely open. You bit your bottom lip before removing yourself from his lip and starting to pull off his shorts. You were slightly confused from the layering he was doing as when you pulled down the shorts, he had a pair of gray sweats on underneath. He bit his bottom lip, “They’re comfier than boxers.” He said softly.

You nodded, pulling down the sweats, revealing his growing length. He bit his bottom lip when he noticed you staring. He was definitely above average and you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger. You slowly pulled off your panties from underneath your skirt and threw them onto the floor before straddling Ted’s lap again. You could see the sweat beads from his forehead as he looked up at you, “Are you sure you want this?” You asked him, your hand caressing his face. He nodded slowly, “I-I’m just nervous. You’re really really pretty.”

You giggled slightly at him before kissing him deeply, moving your to the base of his cock, stroking him gently. He let out a gasp into the kiss, followed by a soft groan. You positioned the tip to your throbbing clit before lowering yourself down, He buried his head into your chest, letting out a small whimper as you continued moving your hips against him. He leaned his head back against the headboard, biting his bottom lip as you slid up and down on his length.

A mixture of moans and whimpers escaped his lips as you continued moving, rocking your hips in the process. You dug your nails into his chest, as his grip tightened on your hips. He thrusted his hips up causing you to let out a moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. Ted opened his eyes partially, watching you before leaning back and starting to kiss on your chest again, leaving marks all the way from your neck down.

Your hips moved in sync with one another as you felt Ted’s stomach tighten from underneath you before his eyebrows furrowed, “I-I’m cl- hmm.” He interrupted his sentence with a hum, throwing his head back against the headboard once more. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his once you felt yourself starting to reach your own high. Ted let out a small gasp as you felt his tip twitch , the two of you releasing at the same time. You rode out your high, practically sinking onto his chest, feeling the energy evaporate from your body. Ted’s face was flushed a deep shade of pink and his hair was sticking to his forehead from the sweat. You pulled yourself off of him, sitting on the bed next to him while processing the events that just happened.

“That was..” You started, “Excellent?” Ted said, looking at you.

You giggled slightly in response, “Sure. Let’s go with excellent.”

“Can we do it again?” He asked, his hand snaking around your waist as he buried his face in your neck. You nodded, knowing the two of you probably wouldn’t be getting much more tutoring done for the night.

[hermionesslut]

MY SECRET BEACH

(wanda maximoff x fem!reader)

꒰ synopsis ꒱ vis is away on business

꒰ author’s note ꒱ omg my comeback🤭🤭 i also have something else in the works!!!! omg in my active era??? first wanda fic too!!!!

꒰ content warning ꒱ nsfw, smut, mommy kink ofc! babysitter!reader, milffff!wanda, fingering (r receiving), some breast play

You waited and waited for Mrs. Maximoff’s text to light up your phone, you haven’t been expecting her too long, 50 minutes or so since you put the twins to bed. your excitement outweighed your impatience, though. exhilaration ran through your body at the thought of flirting with her again. you hoped it wasn’t all in your head, after all, she’s married. your intention wasn’t at all to hurt anyone, certainly not the man signing your paychecks. however, you couldn’t bare to disregard your deep feelings. your body heated intensely every time she came home, after being out all day, her makeup was slightly smudged and sometimes she smelt of dark wine. and in often instances Vision was away on business, these days you let your mind guide you. you got your hopes up every time.

The fog in your mind immediately cleared once you heard Wanda’s car pull up in the driveway. She soon makes her way up to the front door, you attempt to straighten yourself up. You feel the need to be the best for her. "Hey,” the living room couch in the Maximoff’s home is directly behind the entrance. It’s beautifully decorated, you think it’s changed slightly since you’ve last seen it, it’s become more modern, a bit outside of Mrs. Maximoff’s taste. She strikes you as rather more traditional than contemporary. She strolls in (perhaps a bit tipsy), she smells like wine again and a little of cherries. she carries herself constantly well, there’s never a moment where she faults, or fails to attract. Wanda tells you, “I apologize for getting here so late.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind so much. I put the twins to the bed about an hour ago.” You reassure her.

“You’re such a nice young girl, y/n. But I’ve kept you too long, are you hungry?” She expresses.

“No, No,” you laugh, “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Please, I insist. I can make whatever you’d like.”

“Sure,” you smile, you watch her walk away as her loose red hair falls below her shoulders, you wonder what this night entails.

Conversation was difficult to establish, once dinner was made, she made the best dish, (something Sokovian you’ve never heard of before). “I’m so glad you’re here with me,” Wanda places her hand on your knee and smiles, she’s constantly sweet with you, the older woman constantly praises you, reassures you, and she loves how you blush every time a compliment leaves her lips. “It gets so lonely here sometimes, this big house all by myself, Vis is always busy and away at work.” Her touch moves softly up your thigh, you freeze, you can’t imagine this is more than innocent. “You’ll help me, right? Mommy’s all worked up.” Wanda states, clearly insinuating what she wants is more than innocent. What she feels isn’t one-sided, the way she looked at you with her alluring, green eyes and her voice, how it dropped an octave when she called herself ‘Mommy’. It made you want to go along with whatever she asked of you. You didn’t want to ask questions, she made you go dumb.

“Please, tell me you’ll be a good girl for mommy.” Wanda moans. Her fingers on your thigh grow rougher and you found yourself getting wet. “I will”, you reply, “I promise.”

“Come here,” Wanda asks, she wears an all-black suit with such sudden contentment. You obey, of course, her lap spreads with invitation, you hope she doesn’t sense your eagerness. You straddle her thigh, soft with the cloth from her suit. Wanda cups your face, she strokes the inside of your thigh. You fear she can feel your dripping cunt, that she’ll see how desperate you are for her, though, the faint whimpering might’ve given it away. Wanda takes her other hand, she manoeuvres your skirt up so that she can slip her potent hands down your clothed clit.

“You’re so fucking wet, y/n,” Wanda mocks, her eyes fixated on you, she wonders how deep the effect she has on you, and she wonders if she can make it deeper. Suddenly her lips meet yours, her lips feel ever so soft and she tastes of cherries. The kiss was short lived, Mrs. Maximoff then teases your clit with her thumb. “You look so pretty, baby. It’s all for me, right? This dripping pussy, your tits, all mine?”

You try to reply, but with Wanda’s deepen touch, her finger now reaching your aching hole, all you can fuse up is a moan. “Tell me,” Wanda demanded.

“I’m all yours, mommy,” you say. She adds another finger and fingers you even harder and deeper while she gropes your tits. “I know it feels so good baby, you’re doing so well,” Wanda assures. “But you can take another, right? For mommy?”

“Y-Yes, please." You comply. As if you weren’t a moaning mess already, she moves another finger inside you and you could feel yourself coming undone so soon, she’s going too fast, your back arches in need. Your desire for her has never been so profound.

“Tell me what you want, y/n.”

"Please let me cum, mommy, please,” you whine. Wanda smiles darkly, she tells you “Alright, baby, cum for me.”

[mediumgayitalian]

part one

— — —

Reyna meets them right inside the borders, arms open wide the second she catches Nico’s eye. He leaves the rest of his friends to argue with Terminus – Nico stopped listening very quickly – and sprints right to her, nearly bowling her over with his enthusiasm. She laughs, holding her ground, but wraps her arms so tightly against him, squeezing, and she smells like wool and sunshine and her clementine shampoo, and just barely, chocolate. 

“I missed you,” he whispers into her shoulder, and instead of responding she just holds him tighter. 

Sometimes touch makes his skin crawl – hardly, anymore, with how touchy his friends are. Sometimes he has to remind himself that a hand on his shoulder is friendly, not trying to restrain him, that whatever annoying person who is ruffling his hair is fond of him, not mocking.

He doesn’t have to remind himself of anything with Reyna. Her touch is familiar. Her hold means safety, her hold means I watched out for you, kid, and never stopped. Her touch feels like Bianca’s, like someone who has seen him at his worst and angriest and not only loves him but respects him. 

“Hazel’s riding Arian,” she says, clearing her throat and reluctantly pulling away. 

Nico swipes quickly at his face and pretends he doesn’t want to tuck himself right back under her chin. (He is happy with his choice. Despite what he expected, he loves Camp Half-Blood. It’s home, now, in a way Camp Jupiter was never going to be. But his sisters – both of them – are his home, too, and it aches something horrid being away from them for so long.)

“Frank’s trying to chase after her, but he’s running out of fast animals, so it might be a minute.”

Nico cracks up at that image. It was clearly Reyna’s intention, because she grins, and continues, “He tried to dive after her as a falcon when they were running along the Bay, but he missed and nearly drowned himself. Or so claim the rumours, Kahale has been watching from the towers for the past hour at least.”

“Thank you for this. I’ve run out of things to give him shit for, lately, I needed that.”

“Anytime.” She flicks her gaze over at his crew of dumbasses, who have not, in fact, managed past the border in the ten or so minutes since Nico ditched. In fact, their whining and arguing is drawing a bit of a crowd. 

Or maybe that’s Leo and Lou Ellen, who have given up trying to get through and are amusing themselves by making a mini firework show. Will seems to be the only one still actually arguing with Terminus, long arms flailing as he tries to convince the god to let them in. (Well, one arm is flailing. The other is clenched in the back of Cecil’s shirt, preventing him from running off to do Zeus knows what). Piper is next to him, possibly by virtue of charming their way in, but she appears to be occupied with teaching Kayla and Austin some kind of clapping game. 

“We should probably go collect your circus.”

“I mean, we could also walk away,” Nico offers, even as he follows her towards them. “They’re capable people.” He pauses, thinking back to the sheer number of rest stops they were kicked out of on the way here. “Kind of.” And fast food restaurants. “Mostly.” And, notably, one public park. “Well, whatever. I’m sure they can figure themselves out. If we go to the cafe now, we’ll have hot chocolate to rub in Cecil’s face by the time they finally argue their way in.”

Reyna says nothing, although her mouth twitches. “Terminus,” she calls, when they’re close enough. All the squabbling and fireworks and general ruckus stops as everyone turns to look at her. “These are friends, who have come to visit. Why are they being detained?”

“Detained?!” Will squawks. “Try held hostage!”

“Back in my day you’d be whipped for your attitude, boy, why I should –”

“Oh, go ahead, Bucky Barnes, I’m real scared –”

“Your man is going to get himself smited,” Reyna comments.

Nico sighs. “He gets himself almost smited a lot, actually.” It takes him a moment to clock the entirety of Reyna’s sentence, in which time her smile becomes evil and Nico’s face matches the hue of Apollo’s sun cows. “And he’s not my man! Why would you say that! What does that even m –”

“Terminus,” Reyna says again, visibly snickering, “this group has my permission to enter the borders.”

Terminus grumbles, but he knows better to defy her. There’s a brief shimmer to the air, and then the seven of them scamper inside before Terminus changes his mind.

“What have we come to,” Terminus mutters. Will sticks his tongue out behind his head.

As the group follows Reyna and Nico towards the city, Nico squeezes her hand once and ducks back to join Will, who is still pouting. He couldn’t help his smile if he tried.

“What happened to civil relationships, Mr Diplomacy?”

“It’s not my fault!” Will cries. Nico ducks slightly to avoid his hand before he’s smacked in the face – he’s gotten smacked enough times by Will’s dramatic gesturing to become well-used to avoiding it. “I was polite, I requested entry, I had our papers, he was just a dick!”

“I think you maybe just don’t get out enough,” he says, biting the corner of his mouth to keep from laughing. It’s hard, because Will’s eye genuinely twitches. “I think Chiron was right, man. You need to be re-socialised.”

He can’t quite keep his shoulders from shaking as Will’s jaw clenches. It’s just – he is so so easy to wind up. He really is. The second you learn what buttons to push, they’re big and bright red and begging to be abused. Nico didn’t get it in the summer – but by November, he was exchanging looks with Cecil, of all people, and snickering every time they made Will stomp out of the pavilion. 

(It has, of course, nothing to do with the way his face scrunches when he glowers, or the way his blue eyes go dark and a little bit furious and a lot bit sexy. Nothing to do with the growl in his voice when he bites out “I swear to all that is holy, di Angelo,” and shudders zap up Nico’s spine. Obviously. It’s just funny.)

Will opens his mouth – no doubt to let loose a string of insults that would make Mr. D. blush – but before he can let Nico have it, a flash streaks in front of them, and a second later a gust of wind bowls them both over with a yelp.

“Nico!”

Groaning, Nico tries to stand, but finds that he can’t. He glances up and meets Will’s eyes, milimeters from his own, and goes so brightly scarlet that he can hear Reyna’s sharp bark of “Ha!” before she clamps her hand over her mouth to keep her dignity. 

“Get off me, Solace,” he complains, but the effect is significantly lessened when his voice cracks – no lie – thirteen separate times.

Cupid, he thinks, as loudly and pointedly as he can, kill yourself.

“I’m not that heavy,” Will grumbles, getting petulantly to his feet and immediately tripping over the world’s smallest pebble. Nico covers his face and screams, very quietly, just a little. When he finally manages to drag his hands away from his eyes, the face of his sister hovers over him, grinning wickedly, dark eyes glinting.

“Wow,” she whistles, at least having the decency to keep her voice down, “Piper wasn’t kidding. You’re embarrassing.”

“Shut up,” he says halfheartedly. “Just – leave me to die.”

She laughs, and Nico smiles on reflex, because she sounds like twinkling gold bangles on a waving arm. He accepts her hand up and laces them together, squeezing gently. Her smile widens further when he leans over and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“It’s good to see you, bella. Even if you’re mean to me.”

She knocks their heads together gently. “You just make it so easy. You should try not swooning into his arms whenever he so much as smiles at you, it would help your image –”

“My image is fine –”

“ – and I heard something about a sleepover? Unsupervised? In cabin 13 –”

“That was greatly exaggerated! We passed out playing –”

“ – can’t forget the time he laughed so hard he snorted and you walked into a wall and broke your nose –”

“You weren’t even there for that! No one was! How do you –”

“Dear, dear brother,” she says, patting his head patronizingly. He's appalled with himself for leaning into the touch. “There is not a soul – living or dead – that doesn’t know about it. I was IMed by four separate people an hour after it happened.”

“I’m leaving,” Nico announces abruptly. He turns back towards the van. “I’m going back to Dad, I’m literally never leaving my bedroom again –”

“Oh, no you don’t.” She hauls him back after the rest of the group, a few yards ahead of them, still grinning. “Let’s go, Nick Gatsby. I want to watch Aeliana’s eye twitch as a vanful of noisy Greek teenagers cause a ruckus in her restaurant.”

— — —

part three

[lovedbybella]

infatuation (pt. 2)

miguel o’hara x female!reader

warnings: profanity and a whole lot of nsfw content

summary: being miguel’s assistant, you always thought the two of you had a good thing going. and everything was great… until it wasn’t.

word count: 3.1k

authors note: apologies for how long this took, it’s been super busy. i also wasn’t sure what direction i wanted the story to go 😭 enjoy <3

part one here

NSFW MDNI

Following Miguel’s visit, your planned movie night with Peter quickly turned into a rant session. You explained the entire situation to him, all your frustrations and feelings spilling out. He was on your side, of course, and demanded that you get both the justice and explanations that you deserved.

The following morning, despite your racing thoughts, you knew you had to speak with him. The challenge, however, was that Miguel appeared to be actively avoiding you.

Your first attempt at speaking to him was unexpected. You showed up to his office early in the morning using your employee card to enter, but surprisingly, Lyla had restricted your access, claiming Miguel wasn’t there. An obvious lie, Miguel lived and would probably die in that office.

Your second attempt was even worse, you had seen him walking towards his office. You left whatever you were doing abruptly, following after him to finally talk, but he noticed you, and locked you out, making Lyla explain some bullshit excuse about why you couldn’t enter.

You had had enough though, and went back in the evening. You simply overrode the system using Miguel’s access codes he had given to you years ago when you were first hired. He obviously hadn’t bothered to change it, especially because part of him hoped you would come back.

You enter the office abruptly, catching both Miguel and Lyla by surprise. Lyla excuses herself as you ignore his questions about how you got in. You make your way up to his platform, feeling a plethora of emotions, anger & confusion included.

“Are you insane?” you start, walking directly up to him. You cross your arms, clear anger on your face.

He stays silent, waiting for you to continue. He knows how badly he’s fucked up, and how much he’s going to have to work to earn your forgiveness, but right now, he’s just glad you tolerate him enough to come to his office and yell at him.

“You think you can show up to my apartment, spew some stories, mess with my head, and just expect all to be forgiven?” You ask both angry and confused.

His eyes scan you, before he turns, giving you his full attention, “Of course not” he replies.

“Explain yourself then,” You say firmly.

“You were right. About everything, you were right, we did have a really good thing, and I fucked it up”

“That you did.”

“Your birthday. I don’t even know where to begin, of course I didn’t forget. And I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, because that’s all I am, I’m sorry”

You stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

“You are wonderful, you’re a wonderful assistant and an even better person. I know I don’t show it but you make this place a lot better, and I’m sorry that I’ve been treating you horribly these past few months. I let my fear of letting people get the best of me, and you didn’t deserve that at all.” He states, his voice more sincere and apologetic than you’ve ever heard before.

You nod, not one of forgiveness, but understanding. Of course, you were still upset and probably would be for a while, but the countless apologies were beginning to work.

“You do realize that I’m not going to forgive you just based on that, right?” You ask.

“Of course I do,” he says quickly, “I’ll make it up to you, in so many ways, I promise”

You nod again, before making your way over to a seat next to him. His eyes watch you as you sigh quietly, a little afraid to bring the rest of what he said up.

“Miguel” you begin, his features distort, showing the surprise from the use of his name. He sits on his desk, face turned towards you, quiet and waiting.

“Did you... mean what you said yesterday?” you continue, “With the dress… and the whole I can’t get you out of my mind thing?” you ask tentatively. “You weren’t just saying that to get me to come back right?” There's a hint of insecurity in your voice. You were sure you could probably recite the entirety of what he admitted yesterday, considering the words had been ringing nonstop in your mind for the last day. The minute you realized the affection you held for your boss crossed the realm of professionalism, you were so quick to suppress your feelings, certain there was no chance he could ever feel that way about you. To hear the exact opposite of that was a shocker, nonetheless, and you’d yet to wrap your mind around it completely.

“I meant every word,” Miguel says looking directly at you, eyes and words more serious than you can even describe.

The confirmation shakes you a bit. You immediately look away from him, too flustered to maintain eye contact. Your mind races through all the possible ways you can tell him you feel the same way before you decide that actions speak louder than words. You finally look back at him, standing up, Miguel watching your every action. You make your way in front of his sitting figure, the two of you finally eye to eye. You’re hesitant, the air in the room heavy as the two of you converse without speaking. Miguel seems to read your mind, and he interlaces your fingers with his. The action gives you the confidence you need, and you finally lean in, interlocking your lips with his.

He reciprocates almost immediately, his loose hand coming up and burying itself in your hair. There was an undeniable tenderness in the way Miguel’s lips moved, another apology, a silent one. The presence of both a softness that spoke of regret and an intensity that demonstrated just how wide the depth of his affection for you was. You pull away, your breath uneven and the kiss almost too overwhelming for you. You don’t step away, the two of you still impossibly close. Miguel makes no move to kiss you again, but he can’t deny the fact that the simple action has his head spinning. He wasn’t kidding when he told you how desperate he was for you, you truly never leave his mind.

You decide right then and there that you’d have time to continue to be mad at him later. Right now, all you wanted was his touch, everywhere. You’d been longing for it for months, and to have him at your expense was not an opportunity you were willing to waste.

“You’re going to make it up to me?” You ask softly, your eyes diverting from his to the rest of his body.

“Absolutely” he responds, his eyes boring into you with an intensity you’ll never get used to. You’re first to make a move, your touch deliberate, seeking out the warmth of his body and the rhythmic beating of his heart beneath your palm.

“I want a raise” you start. You had shown up to his office in your regular clothing. A tank top to be exact, you casually let one of the straps slip off your shoulder, a subtle gesture conveying a silent invitation for more.

The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Miguel, who watches silently before making himself look back at you. Every movement from you, no matter how small, sends a surge of longing through him. His obsession for you borders on madness, every gesture simply a tormenting reminder of his insatiable desire. He doesn’t hesitate before he replies.

“Done.”

“And I want you to move my desk back to where it was before” you continue, slipping off the other strap.

Miguel can do nothing but nod, completely mesmerized by your movements. His voice was dampened by his pure desire for you. You take advantage of his dazed state, mind muddy at your understanding of just how much he wants you. You kiss him again, this time far more intensely. He deepens it, his teeth grazing your lips causing you to quietly groan. His hands grab you, pulling you closer to him by the waist. He takes the opportunity to flip you over, laying you down, your back flat against his desk, peering up at him through your lust-filled eyes.

In a split second, he’s at you again. Placing soft but eager kisses down your neck, he captures your lips again, unable to get enough of you. This is all he’s dreamed of, all you’ve dreamed of. It’s almost impossible to believe it’s finally happening. This was the last scenario possible when he thought of what would happen when the two of you finally had a real conversation, so to say he was pleasantly surprised when you began initiating was an understatement. He knew this would do nothing toward getting him off the hook, but he wanted to show you just how sorry he was, and he was grateful, very grateful.

“Fuck” you hiss as his kisses get lower and lower. Your top is completely off now, Miguel’s hand practically ripping your bra off next. The cold air nips at your skin, but you’re far too turned on to care. Miguel’s hands move lower, spreading your legs apart at the knee. You’re dripping, both in anticipation and for him. His hands toy with the band of your shorts before he looks up, a silent plea for permission.

“Let me show you how sorry I am” he begs, voice husky and laced with desire. You can only nod, not trusting yourself to speak. He wastes no time, gesturing for you to lift your hips before he easily pulls down your shorts, underwear coming off with them. You’re completely bare against his desk. Your boss’s desk. The realization is bizarre enough on its own. The sight of Miguel on his knees, for you has you going insane. He looks heavenly, eyes lustful and hair rattled, it was a a picture you wanted engraved in your brain forever.

His hands grip your thighs tightly and he wastes no time as he licks a stripe up your slit. To him, the taste of you is absolutely divine, his red eyes glaring as he loses himself in you. Your sounds quickly fill the room, thighs clenching around his head as you lose yourself in pleasure.

“And lastly,” you start, voice breathy as you continue your demands from before, “From now on, you’re bringing me coffee every day.” Miguel chuckles lowly, head still in between your thighs. The vibration of the action sends tingles up your spine, only pushing you closer to the edge. His nose brushes against your clit as he continues to eat at you mercilessly, giving you that much-needed friction.

He continues, sloppy wet noises filling the room. You grab onto his hair tightly, causing him to groan. You’re too lost in yourself to notice, legs closing in firmly around his head as you attempt to handle what he’s giving you. He takes his hands, roughly splitting your legs apart once again. He lifts his head, eyes glossy and face wet with your slick he looks at you, it takes everything in you to stay silent at the image in front of you.

“Stop closing your legs preciosa, ‘m not done” he mumbles before diving back in. You moan, both at the sight and his voice. You’re not sure how much more you can take before you completely unfold. He nips at your clit, puffy and wet. His thick tongue is ruthless at your holes, and you honestly don’t think you’ve ever felt better than you do at this moment. You’re in a whole other world, the only thoughts you can even comprehend are how amazing you feel and how grateful you are for the man whose experienced tongue is responsible for it all.

“Miguel” you start, unable to pause long enough to get your words out, “I’m so close” you call out, your words hardly comprehensible in between the whimpers that spill out of you. He doesn’t indicate that he heard you, only picking up his pace, tongue lapping at you at a rate you didn’t even think was possible. With one final swirl, you’re unraveling around him, eyes closing in pure bliss. Quiet moans spill out of you as you start to come down from your high.

Miguel peels away from you, eyes watchful of your heaving chest and the hair stuck to your forehead with the glistening sweat that’s formed. The sight makes his cock twitch, and in a mere second, he decides he’s not done with you. He gives you no time to recover before he’s sliding one of his fingers inside of you. The motion catches you off guard, everything a thousand times more intense considering how sensitive you still are. Your previous orgasm does nothing to prepare you for just how thick his fingers are. You don’t even want to think about what it’d be like to have all of him inside you. His pace is unforgiving, sliding in and out of you like there’s no tomorrow. His eyes are latched onto you, watching and listening to every twitch, movement, and sound your body makes.

His other hand comes up, rubbing your clit. You’re slightly overstimulated, but the initial discomfort washes away as waves of pleasure begin to overtake your body again. Miguel can’t help but groan at the sight of you, he truly was willing to do whatever it took to get you to trust him again.

“So fucking perfect” he groans his praises, his pace still relentless. You whimper quietly in response, your mind a puddle of nothing as his fingers fuck you dumb. Almost embarrassingly so, it’s not long before you're approaching your end again, the nature of the situation a little too much for you to handle. Miguel places a soft kiss on your inner thigh. The action is so intimate, and you can’t take it. Before you know it, you’re coming undone once again, your pussy clenching around his fingers tightly.

“Fuck..fuck” you cry out quietly, body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Miguel pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. He leaves momentarily, and you take the opportunity to try and sit up, shakily of course. He’s back with a towel in an instant, cleaning you up as you wince slightly at the action, still way too sore to be touched.

There’s a tension in the room, not an uncomfortable one, but one where you’ve both realized your relationship has crossed a line you’ll never get back.

“That’s hell of a way to make it up to me” you joke, trying to get rid of the silence that has fallen over the room. Miguel gives you a small smile, handing you your clothes back so you can start to get dressed.

“I hope you know that wasn’t my apology to you, I have a long way to go,” he says seriously, eyes boring into you.

You nod, pulling your shirt over your head in understanding. “I know” you reply quietly.

Miguel comes to stand in front of you. He looks down at you once again, hand coming up to caress your face lovingly.

“I really am sorry, I don’t even know where to begin, I’ll be apologizing for the rest of my life if I have to” you hear the genuine sincerity and apologeticness in his voice. It brings you a sort of relief, to know the Miguel you knew before all of this was still there.

“And I’m completely in love with you if you couldn’t already tell,” he says humorously, bringing a little more light to the conversation. You laugh softly before bringing your hand up to the one he has on your face, interlacing your fingers.

“I love you too if you couldn’t already tell,” you say honestly, a hint of teasing in your voice. Miguel laughs again, eyes yearning for you as he comes to understand just how lucky he truly is. He had a long way to go, but he was willing to do whatever it took if it resulted in your happiness and forgiveness.

-

The following day, you woke up with your heart feeling a little lighter. Peter had suggested the two of you get breakfast, insisting he meet you at your door so the two of you could walk together. The action was a little out of the ordinary if you were being honest, but you didn’t think too much of it.

Your head is down as you walk into the meal space, getting distracted by a noise your multidimensional watch keeps making. When you finally look up, you’re met with the faces of the entirety of the Spider Society. A huge “Happy Birthday” banner with your name is hanging from the ceiling, and there are tables and tables of food and sweets all over.

Your face breaks out in a smile. Yes, your birthday was 2 weeks ago, but the gesture was nice nonetheless. You look at Peter, who’s smiling back at you.

“So? What do you think?” he yells over the loud cheering the space now holds.

You laugh, unable to stop smiling, “This is great, what is this?” you yell back.

“Miguel organized it, I helped, of course. He said something about ‘winning you back’, you should probably go find him” he explains, leading you farther into the space.

The amount of “happy birthdays” you hear is insane. You look around the room, spotting multiple violations of Miguel’s safety rules that on any other given day, would’ve driven him insane. You smile, reveling in just how much he cares about you.

You spot Miguel across the room, and you walk, making your way up to him.

“Hey,” you say softly, “You planned this?” the huge smile is still evident on your face. He looks at you, admiring just how beautiful you are, before returning your smile.

“With a little help,” he replies, humor in his voice. His heart warm at how delighted you look.

“This is insane Miguel” You look around the room once more, before looking back at him, “Thank you,” you say.

He gives you another tender smile before grinning, “Just wait till you see what I have planned for your half-birthday”

The confession takes you by pleasant surprise, “My half-birthday?” you laugh, “Miguel, no one celebrates those”

“Guess we’ll be the first” he teases

You smile once again, “Thank you,” you say sincerely.

“Am I forgiven yet?” he jokes, looking down at you.

You smile, peering up at him, “You’re getting there, I still need my daily coffees”

He laughs, “Good enough” he replies, and the two of you turn away, looking back at the crowd.

You’re first to break the silence, and you turn back to him.

“Miguel?” you ask. He looks at you, a small smile still plastered on his face, always happy to hear your voice.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to need my job back.”

-

tags: @happishark @prettysbliss @thel0velykey190 @saltykidcreation @chabelis @coffee-winter-and-silence @thesecretwriter @bitterprecious @leahnicole1219 @kyler11718

(just tagged everybody who commented)

[immeasurablesaladagere]

do u think u could right a fic about cg!house finding regressor!wilson small at work please??:00 thank u!!!

Here you go my friend!

-----

Word Count: 1138

Summery: House crashes Wilson's office during an overnight shift only to find that Wilson has been teetering on the edge of regressing. House gives him the nudge he needs and they make do with a bedtime routine in the hospital.

-----

House threw open the door to Wilson’s office. “Honey, I’m home!”

Wilson jumped in his chair and clutched at his chest. “Jesus, House! You scared the crap out of me! What are you doing in here?”

He dropped down into the other chair and kicked his feet up onto the desk. “Oh, stop being dramatic. You’re not allowed to have a heart-attack on me, I came here to get away from dying-patient-duty.”

“You’re ditching your night-shift?” Wilson asked, like a disapproving mother about to take away his video games for cutting class. 

House rolled his eyes and snagged a trinket bobble-head from the desk. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of nurses. Unless, of course, you’re saying the nurses are incompetent.”

Wilson sputtered. “I— Wha—? No. Just— Whatever. I’ve got work to do.” 

“Yes, that was the point. I wouldn’t have come to see you if you weren’t here.” He said, “What, I can’t see my best friend, Wilson?”

Wilson didn’t engage him any further than a disinterested hum, and rubbed at his eyes with his fist before returning to his paperwork; most likely patient-related and why he was also taking a night shift at all. House cocked an eyebrow. Normally Wilson would banter with him for at least a little longer than that. It was only 1:30 AM, it wasn’t late enough for him to be as tired as he looked; all wound up and unfocused.

House gave the bobble-head an absent flick and watched Wilson intently as he flipped through the patient’s folder. Tight posture, shaky movements, eye-rubbing with his fists, speech avoidance. To any normal person, all mere symptoms of physical exhaustion and normal enough, but House knew better than that. 

“You’re doing that thing.” 

Wilson blinked, delayed, and looked up at him. “…What thing?” He asked. His tone was irritated, but voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“That thing. You’re regressing, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. Wilson was sluggish even for an unplanned overnight stay at the office, and even though he was pretending to work, House doubted he was actually processing any of it. His eyes were staring right through his desk instead of at the page.

“What? No, I—“ Wilson cleared his throat and his voice returned to normal, “I’m not.”

“Uh huh. And you tell me that I repress my feelings. That’s pretty hypocritical, y’know.”

“I’m not regressed, House. I’ve got a job to do.” He insisted, and stubbornly returned to the file.

House flicked the bobble-head again. “I didn’t say you were regressed, I said you were regressing. There is a difference, but I don’t think toddlers learn that for at least a few more years so I’ll give you a pass.” 

He could feel Wilson glaring into the side of his head, but he elected to ignore it. After all, indulging children in tantrums only encouraged their behaviour, and he wouldn’t want that. He would just have to wait for Wilson to crack, because he always did. Given his defensiveness, he was probably trying to ignore the feeling before and House pestering him about it was only pushing him towards an inevitable drop. 

And just like he expected, it only took fifteen minutes for Wilson to give in, dropping his head to his desk with a disgruntled whine. House grabbed the phone and dialled the nurses station.

“Hello? This is Doctor Greg House. Doctor Wilson will be unable to oversee his patient tonight, he seems to have come down with the flu.” Wilson looked up at him with a pathetic attempt at a glare that turned out to be more of a pout. “Real nasty stuff, don’t ask. Have his patient reassigned to an on-call oncologist, thanks.” He hung up.

“Houssse…” Wilson whined.

“Wilsoonnn…” House whined back. “There. You’re officially cleared for the night, so how about we get ready to sleep now, hm? No offence kiddo, but you look pretty tired.”

“But… I wan’ed to get stuff done…” He mumbled, then shrunk down in his chair a bit more. “…an’ we can’t do bedtime here…” Wilson was almost inaudible, and House knew it would only be a matter of time before all he would be getting was head shakes and sounds from him. Wilson was right, to an extent. Even though House was skipping watching over the patient directly he couldn’t leave the hospital entirely, and Wilson couldn’t get home on his own, so they would just have to improvise something.

“Oh sure we can. We don’t have your jammies, but you can change out of your dress shirt and just wear your sweater. That’s pretty soft still, right?” 

Wilson shrugged. “Mm.”

“And while you do that, ol’ House will go down to the cafeteria and find you a night snack and you can sleep on the couch.”

“…Cookie?” Wilson asked softly, sleepy eyes hopeful and round like a baby deer, disgustingly sweet. How did he do that?

House chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do. Get settled while I’m gone and see if you can find a book for me to read to you. I’ll be right back.”

He got up and hobbled down to the cafeteria. They stayed open to staff until three in the morning, which meant that he was easily able to place an order with the tired and disgruntled-looking cook for a coffee cup of warm milk and a package of digestive cookies. For his troubles he got a confused look from the employee, like he’d never heard of the concept of milk and cookies before bed, but it was delivered quickly nonetheless.

With his order in hand House made his way upstairs, stopping by a linen closet on the way back to grab a pillow and blanket. The balancing act was precarious, but he managed to get back to Wilson’s office without any spillage.

When he opened the door Wilson was sitting curled up on the couch, dress-shirt discarded from underneath his swearer, head lolled lazily on his knees, and a book sitting next to him. He looked ready to fall asleep at any second, but he perked up slightly when House walked in.

“Your cookies, and a cup of milk.” He set them down on the side table and dropped the blanket and pillow down on the free space on the couch, and sat down on the coffee table.

Wilson fumbled with the package of cookies for a moment before managing to tear them open, but once he did he ate them quickly, holding each one with two hands like a squirrel. Once he was finished his snack he pulled up the blanket around himself and wordlessly handed House the book he had chosen.

He took it and examined the cover. Charlotte’s Web. A very Wilson book.

“Good choice. I like this one too.” He said, and Wilson smiled sleepily, shuffling deeper into the cushions. “Chapter One: Before Breakfast…”

[atlabeth]

now that the dust has cleared from the chaos for me irl, i want to officially thank you all for 3000 followers!! because wow. where do i even start?

this isn't a milestone i thought i would ever reach. i made this blog during my junior year of high school when i was bored as hell in online school, not knowing what would come of it, and honestly not expecting anyone to read anything i’ve written. i exclusively wrote avatar fics (kind of embarrassing that a series i started at the beginning of my blog still isnt finished huh?) because it was what i had been watching most recently. i started to gain some recognition, made some friends, and slowly but surely i carved out my little corner of the internet. and now, 3 years, 3000 followers, and almost 500,000 words later, i’m going into my junior year of college with some of the best online friends a girl could ask for (shoutout to my day 1 @simplysolo for still being around and still being the best ever, and shoutout to all my other tumblr friends that have deactivated over the years</3 i miss you guys) a whole array of fandoms that i’ve dabbled in, and a newly discovered thing for middle aged men. cool 

i truly cannot thank you all enough. i’ve always been a writer, but this blog has given me a sorely needed creative outlet and made me more confident in my writing skills than ever. at the end of the day i’m just writing silly little x reader fics, but i’ve truly had so much fun doing it! every single fictional man im in love with is also in love with me isn’t that crazy!!!

a special, extended shoutout to the loveliest mutuals i’ve picked up over the years. i wouldn’t be half the writer i am and i wouldn’t have half as much fun on here without you all. @simplysolo for being around since the beginning and truly being the greatest person on this app, i love you intensely, @sokkadora for being another one of my ogs (we dont talk anymore but i see you every so often on my dash and you’re doing great!!) @mcallmestiles for being one of the first avatar fics i ever read, traitor encouraged me to be a better writer and i hope you’re doing well with your medical career!! @tangledinlove for being my most famous mutual, the kindest person in the world, and being brought together through the power of lockwood, @giyuji and @milkiane who are both inactive but who i have to tag because i love them and i hope they’re doing well; naomi you got me into the grishaverse and liane we were in the trenches of the stranger things revival together, @boneblushed for dealing with so much but still being phenomenal and lovely in every way, @tommymcartney for being so sweet all the time, my biggest cheerleader and encouraging my insanity in every fandom ive been a part of, @nghtwngs for being the only person who loses it over nikolai lantsov as much as i do, to all my new/more recent mutuals @hotchfiles @ma1dita @moowithmidnight @emiliehornby @supercutszns i can't wait to get to know or keep getting to know you!!! you're all so lovely!!! and all the mutuals i don’t talk to as much as i should, i love you all and cherish you in my heart regardless of if we talk every day or have never said a single word to each other!! i don’t want to tag you all because i don’t want to bother you, but if you’re looking at this and thinking am i talking about you, i am. i love you. it takes a village and im so lucky to have you all as mine 

i can’t believe it’s been 3 years, i can’t believe i’m halfway done with college, and i can’t believe we hit 3,000. truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for reading my fics and letting me be some small part of your lives. i can’t wait to write more for you all. keep a lookout for my 3k celebration post! 

[catslvrr]

heaven sent — 01. bucket list

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It was about six hours later when finally you stirred back to life, your pillow somehow on the floor and the sheets a tangled mess. You were about to roll over to drift back into dreamland, but a voice startled you awake.

“Oh! You finally woke up.”

You had never sat up so fast in your life. There was a girl sitting on your chair, staring at you while messing up your rubix cube. In fact, you were pretty sure that this was the same girl that you swore was a hallucination just hours ago.

“Who the fuck are you?” You snapped. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

“I’m Danielle,” she smiled, unbothered by your aggression. You tried to ignore the weird twist in your stomach, convincing yourself that it was because you were hungry. “Nice to meet you.”

“Okay, Danielle,” you narrowed your eyes. “How the fuck did you get in my room?”

“What do you mean?” She tilted her head. “You summoned me.”

I did what now?

“You know,” she gestured vaguely. “The 11:11 wish thing?”

It took you a few seconds to process what she said before you laughed in disbelief, looking around and expecting Minji to jump out and scream ‘You just got pranked!’

Your laughter quickly died down when you realized that Danielle was being dead serious.

“Oh,” you said. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I am,” she frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You would’ve found her obliviousness cute if she wasn’t a random intruder who somehow magically appeared in your room.

“So what?” You blurted. “You’re a platonic cupid or something?”

“Cupid?” Danielle giggled. “That’s a new one.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve heard that humans call us angels, or genies, but we’re just messengers of God,” she clarifed. “We don’t have wings or halos, and there’s no need to rub a lamp. Just here to fulfill wishes.”

“Wait,” you raised your hand. “Pause. Did you just say God? God exists?”

“Yes,” she nodded nonchalantly, seemingly unaware of the fact that she just casually dropped a massive bombshell and answered history’s biggest question. “He’s in charge of sorting through all 11:11 wishes.”

You could feel a headache start to form. “So you’re telling me that God is real. But not, like, a holy one. And so are angels. Or messengers. And that 11:11 wishes are also real.”

“Yes?”

“And now you’re here to make me ‘happy’?”

“Ding ding ding! Three in a row!” Danielle grinned, nodding again. “Yes, I have been assigned two weeks to satisfy your wish.”

“Oh,” you slumped, tapping your fingers as your mind ran wild with all sorts of questions. “Can I ask you some questions first?”

“Isn’t that what you’ve already been doing?” She pointed out innocently.

“I’m sorry,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “You literally appeared out of nowhere. You can’t expect me to not have questions.”

She watched you get out of bed. “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna brush my teeth and process what just happened. Be ready for an interrogation when I’m done.”

“Okay,” you huffed, sitting across Danielle on your bed. More awake now, you took this time to study her, realizing how angel-like she truly was. Her posture was perfect, back straightened and hands always resting gently in her lap. She had this indescribable aura to her — her smile was warm and sincere, yet her eyes were clouded by this hint of intensity, as if she could see right through you.

“This is exciting,” she clasped her hands together. “I love interrogations!”

You cleared your throat.

“Do all 11:11 wishes come true?”

“No. God chooses which ones go through and which ones don’t.”

“Do you choose which human you take?”

“We have a system in place that automatically assigns us our human, based on compatibility and how likely we’re able to fulfill the wish.”

“Woah,” you gaped. “Is it calculated by a God computer or something?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“So, you know all about me, then?”

“Not really. We’re given a brief profile of our assigned human. It’s nothing detailed — just your name, age, where you’re from, all the likes.”

“Huh.”

You hesitated before the next question.

“Does God birth you out?”

She stared at you with an amused smile. “Really?”

“What?” You said defensively. “It’s a valid question.”

“No. He just speaks us into existence.”

“How long have you existed for?”

“18 years. It’s my first year on the job. This is my first wish, actually.”

You raised your eyebrows. “So it’s kinda like the real world. Being considered independent at 18 and all that.”

“I suppose so,” she said with a shrug. “We get taught about the world and about the code of conduct for our whole childhood, until we stand before God himself. He judges if we’re ready or not, and then, boom, we’re out here making wishes come true.”

“Wow,” you exhaled sharply, letting all the new information sink in. “Okay. That’s all the questions I have. For now, at least.”

“Awesome!” Danielle clapped, and a pen suddenly materialized out of thin air.

“What the fuck?”

She winked at you, as if it was a sufficient answer to your question, and then pulled a notebook out of her pocket like a magician with a rabbit and a hat.

Well, at least I know she’s not lying about this whole ‘messenger of God’ schtick.

“To fulfill your wish, I have prepared a plan,” she explained. “You’re going to tell me all the things that make you happy, and we’ll create a bucket list of sorts. We only have two weeks, so we’ll have to make the most of every day.”

“Aren’t you meant to know what makes me happy?” You muttered, a touch of bitterness laced in your tone. “I don’t know what makes me happy — that’s the whole reason I made the wish.”

Danielle hummed, unfazed by your sudden change in mood. “Okay, I’ll just come up with the things to do. We’ll start tomorrow.”

She clapped again, and the notebook and pen disappeared. “Just do me a favor,” she smiled. “Make my job easier and wake up at seven everyday. In the morning, of course.”

“Seven am?” You blanched, your whole body having a visceral reaction. “Are you sure you weren’t sent here to make my life worse? I woke up at seven today and I literally felt like I just crawled back from hell.”

The corner of her mouth tugged upwards. “Just trust me, it’ll be worth it. Do you want your wish fulfilled or not?”

You sighed defeatedly. “You got it.”

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[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

what was it like as a gaylor before 2016?

What an appropriate question on the 10 year anniversary of the kaylor public launch at the VSFS 2013 :) As it's quite a subjective question, prepare for my gaylor/kaylor origin story 😉

I've been a more committed Taylor fan since Red came out in 2012, but because I'm in the UK a lot of the public media buzz about her has passed me by (except for the headlines about her and Harry, that was definitely a big story over here). In spring 2013 the article about her and Dianna exploded on the internet and, despite it obviously being retracted, it perked my ears up because 1. I was also a big glee fan at the time, and 2. it seemed to offer an explanation to why I found her music so relatable having just had my heart broken by a girl and all her genderless breakup songs fit that situation so well. So, I did a bit of research and quickly realised that, if she was in fact with Dianna, it would have been at the same time that she was supposedly dating Harry, as well as that Kennedy guy. No public acknowledgement of any queerness (like ever) so it was very clear to me from the start that, if she is dating women, she is doing it very much in secret. Not a great inspiration for fairly newly out me (23 at the time), so I filed that information and moved on with just her music. Didn't really think about it again until over a year later when a guy in a club decided to bully me and my then gf with the sentence 'Are you a real couple or just bffs like Taylor Swift and that model chick?' Yep, my kaylor origin story is a straight man harassing me in a nightclub. What are the odds, right? 🤭

So, because that remark somehow stuck with me (and I had no idea who that ' model chick' even was) I googled it, expecting to find something similar to the Dianna situation and my jaw hit the floor when I got pages and pages of photos of Taylor and Karlie walking the streets of NYC holding hands, smiling at each other with the biggest heart eyes. It genuinely changed my life. It may sound totally stupid and out of proportion, given that they didn't acknowledge it as a relationship (which I'm aware was doing no favours to lesbian visibility), but it did something to me to see the girl whose music I'd danced to in my bedroom when I was 16 so happily in love with another girl. I'd never seen that sort of love between two women, either in fiction or in real life, and it felt like she'd reached across the miles dividing us to tell me that it's possible, and that if she could find it (even in hiding), I could, too. And somehow it didn't matter to me what they were calling it, I could see what it was and it was everything to me. But I only had a few months to enjoy it before kissgate ruined it and of course the tabloids printed words like 'affair' and ‘scandal' and by March the next year we had Calvin Harris, then Hiddleswift, and then Joe. But at the same time, we got 1989 and rep with some of the gayest music ever written. And I found a great community of fellow queer people on here in those years that seemed to enjoy watching them and seeing their lives in the lyrics as much as I did. I’ve dipped in and out of the online space for years, lurking when there were more kind people around and disappearing when the hate got worse. It was fun to watch it all unfold in real time with people, I’m impressed that people still become new kaylors these days when there is no real time interaction and the hate from the general fanbase towards Karlie is still high since 2018. I don’t think I would be a gaylor today if I hadn’t witnessed their love in front of everybody’s eyes in that year, that really made me resilient to setbacks because I’m just so irretrievably in love with their love story. I’ve seen how Taylor lashes out when she’s cornered and scared (like she did after kiss gate) and sometimes we’re the collateral damage of that. And as much as that sucks it just shows that she’s incredibly protective of her little bubble of happiness and the more you poke the bear the more savage she’ll be in her retaliation. Do I wish she didn’t throw her most loyal supporters off a cliff every time she needs a straight excuse? Of course! But have I also hurt people I care about to protect my loved ones? Yes. So I can’t really judge. I can just take a walk when it gets too much, and wait for the soft shit to pull me back in.

So, to summarise, being a gaylor has always (and will always) have highs and lows, the public narrative is never for us, only the music is. But that's ok with me, I've learned to tune the noise out and enjoy the music, reminding myself that those songs were inspired by one of the greatest love stories I've ever accidently stumbled upon.

[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Author: apple jacks Group: C Prompts: Size matters. She doesn’t “like” you! Sunset.

-

Paint It Black

Gold hadn’t offered her dinner.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought of it. But considering the amount of time she was already going to be spending with him, he thought it best to limit their contact where he could. Assuming she’d have even taken him up on the offer. Which she wouldn’t have, obviously.

Besides, he was having a hard time finding his appetite as it was.

He had decided on a nice herbal tea with a finger or two of his good scotch when he heard the doorbell ring. Opening the door revealed none other than Belle French.

The setting sun was at her back, the soft dying light giving her a soft glow as it washed against his porch. The natural red highlights of her hair were just on the side of golden, and with her sensible blouse and cardigan, she resembled something not unlike how he imagined guardian angels.

“We agreed on nine o’clock,” he said by way of greeting.

“Have you had dinner?”

So prepared he was for I’ve changed my mind, the deal is off that it took him an extra second to parse her question.

“I was just about to throw something together,” he lied.

“Good. I haven’t eaten yet, either.” Belle took a step towards him, and he stepped back automatically. Before Gold could say anything, she’d breezed past him, as if forcing herself into his home was something she did every day.

He looked around his foyer, looking for any instructions on how to proceed. Not for the first time, he wondered if asking Belle for help with this particular problem had been the smartest thing to do.

“I made spaghetti.” She’d found her way to the kitchen, unloading one of her bags on his counter. The other one was on the floor by the door, and he assumed it held her overnight things. “I also brought muffins for breakfast. They’re from the supermarket, so don’t get too excited. Where are your plates?”

The spaghetti was in a plastic container, open now and ready to be portioned out and reheated. Next to the lid was a foil bag that Gold recognized as the garlic bread from the grocery’s inhouse bakery. And there was Belle French, standing in his kitchen with an open and expectant look on her face, like she’d been invited. Like she wanted to be there with him, and hadn’t been coerced into it with the promise of a much needed reprieve for her father’s flower shop.

She didn’t like him. He’d do well to remember that.

“Miss French—”

“Belle. I insist,” she said when he opened his mouth to refuse. “We’re going to be sleeping together. We should be on a first name basis.”

“We are not—”

“We literally are,” she said, interrupting him again.

He ran a hand down his face, feeling every minute of the last week. How on Earth was he going to survive the night with her, let alone the next ten nights he’d dealt for?

“We agreed on nine o’clock.”

The woman seemed to finally take pity on him. “I just want to talk.” She opened the bag containing the garlic bread. 

“I’m pretty sure I made my expectations clear.”

“And what about my expectations?” Belle had given up on being directed to the proper cupboard, so she started opening the doors over the counter until she found his dishes.

“I’ve given my word you’ll remain unmolested. You have collateral should I—”

“I wouldn’t have agreed in the first place if I believed there was a chance of that.”

“Then what more could you want?”

“I want to know why. Why me, why now?” Proving victorious, Belle pulled out two plates from his cupboards. 

“You need the money,” he deflected, opening the drawer of the silverware and setting the kitchen table for two places; he wasn’t a complete beast to make her do all the work.

“So does Ruby. So do most people in town, actually,” she said as if he didn’t know.

He watched as she put the first plate into his microwave, and soon the electric hum was the only sound in the room. After the timer dinged, Belle placed the first plate on the table, complete with a side salad and the garlic bread. She gestured for him to sit while she reheated her own serving.

“I know you can be discreet,” he said finally.

For the first time since entering the kitchen, Belle looked at him. She considered his answer. “I do understand that you have an image to uphold. Word getting out that you suffer from nightmares would certainly do...something to it.”

Nightmare. 

It was too kind a word for the violent, paralyzing terror that dogged his sleep. It wasn’t a nightmare that pulled him from his bed, still sleeping, compelling him to pound on his walls until his hands bruised. It wasn’t a nightmare that had him pacing madly up and down his halls, wrenching his ankle again and again, the pain deeper than bone when he finally awoke.

“The townsfolk already compare you to Scrooge,” Belle said as she sat across from him with her plate. “Knowing about this might be a bit too much.”

 “Scrooge didn’t ask for help fending off his ghosts,” Gold muttered.

“Scrooge didn’t know his ghosts were coming.” She looked pensive. “What ghosts are haunting you, Mr. Gold?”

The scrape of his chair against the tile was loud. He pushed away from the table and his half-eaten dinner.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have work to finish up in my study. Feel free to show yourself around. Thank you for dinner.”

“Wait—I didn’t—”

But Gold was already gone, out of the kitchen and down the hall. Away from her. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was hiding in his study when he heard the soft knock.

“Come in,” he said, looking up only as the door opened.

“I’m sorry,” Belle said without preamble. She hadn’t come further into the room, but she wasn’t hiding behind the door frame. “I overstepped, and I shouldn’t have. I just don’t understand why I’m here.”

For the first time that night, perhaps the first time in their whole acquaintance, Belle looked unsure of herself.

“I want to help you, Mr. Gold.”

“Elias.” He owed her that much. Belle was right: if they were going to sleep together, she should have his name.

“Elias,” she said, saying his name slowly. “I’ve already agreed to the terms you’ve laid out. I showed up, didn’t I?”

Gold sighed. He just wanted this month over and done with. The truth was the enormity of his fear was becoming too much for him. Size mattered, and it was too much. Too big. Going without sleep for the few weeks he was affected was out of the question, and sleeping pills didn’t work, only bringing the terrors back in full force once he stopped taking them.

“I can’t be alone,” he said. “We need to share the bed.” He’d learned that from experience.

“So you mentioned. That’s fine.”

“I can sleep over the sheets, if that’s more comfortable for you.”

“But that would make you uncomfortable, wouldn’t it? That’s kind of exactly the opposite of why I’m here.”

“I can get you separate blankets then—"

“I’ve just told you I agree to the terms.”

“It feels a lot to ask of you.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “It’s not more than I’m willing to do.”

Gold sighed again. It was nearing the usual time he turned in.

“So.” Belle said, before he could get his courage up to suggest they retire. She took a brave step into his study.

“So?”

“We’ve established why me. So, why now?”

Gold made a noise in his throat. “This is an ailment I face every September.”

Belle tilted her head to the side. “Like an anniversary?”

“Aye. That of my son’s death.”

-

[sparrowsage]

Revenge, Part One: Ghosts of the Past

Hello! I know I haven't posted in while. I've had some major stuff pop up in my personal life, but things are on the mend! This is the first part in a mini series that takes place six months after the end of Warehouse. It's very far out in the timeline for the Warehouse series, but my brain wanted to write this, so here it is! I'd like to give a special thanks to @oddsconvert and @darkthingshappen for the mention of their oc's Henley Allen from A Taste of Your Own Medicine and Agent Vaughn from Brothers Keeper. And I'd also like to thank them as well as @whumpcereal and @flowersarefreetherapy for their support as I wrote this! I got the inspiration and motivation for this piece from day four of the Merry Whump of May event as well and it was a ton of fun!

TW: Vague mentions of past captivity, vague mentions and implied past noncon, kidnapping, noncon drugging, mentions of past character death, threatened murder (if I missed any, let me know and I'll add them!)

MWoM Prompt: Day 4 “Forgettable, ‘Who are you?’ Lamp, Alleyway” 

If Sparrow would have been asked when he was teen where he thought he’d be when he was an adult, his response wouldn’t be what you’d expect. As far as he knew, he was going to be in the Warehouse facility for the rest of his life, or with some random person who had bought him if he ever got to the point of being sold. Not once did he ever think that he’d be living with a close and trusted friend, free to make his own decisions, able to finally carve out a life for himself of his own free will. 

It had been six months since the Warehouse had gotten raided. Six months since Damon had tried to escape the facility with him in tow. Six months since he was reunited with his friends and finally free from the hell he never thought he’d be away from. 

Sparrow snapped out of his thoughts as he heard his friend giggle, looking over to him as Felix spun around in a small circle, arms outstretched. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve been able to go and see a live show like that!” he exclaimed. “Thank you for coming with me.” 

Sparrow gave his friend a soft smile, putting his hands in his pockets as they walked back to their apartment building. “Thanks for offering to take me. I’ve never seen something like that! I’m surprised they have all those lines and stuff memorized, it looked like a lot!” 

Felix nodded, looking up at the clear night sky above them for a moment before looking back at his friend. “It’s their job, and it does take a lot of work, but it’s totally worth it. I’ve often had thoughts of trying to get into theater like that, but I think my stage fright would get in the way of it all.” 

Sparrow chuckled, giving Felix a light nudge as they continued on their way, “With how often I hear you singing in the apartment, I know you’d do great!” 

Sparrow let out a sigh, recalling the memories. It had been a whirlwind to try and get things back on track once he was released from the hospital this time. He still had weekly therapy appointments with Alex, but it had been more difficult to fall back into old routine with Felix this time around. There had been a short period of time where there were awkward conversations when the two interacted, both from Felix’s guilt over the invitation Damon had sent out and Sparrow not showing Felix the invite before he left amongst other things. Over time, they had talked things out and their friendship only got stronger from there. Henley still came by frequently as well, often spending a lot of time with Sparrow when he was free, which Sparrow appreciated. The two of them would help teach Sparrow how to read and write alongside teaching him about other things while also having some fun. 

At the thought of Henley, Sparrow took his hand out of his jacket pocket, looking at the digital watch Henley had given him a few months back. 

“Hey, it’s already 10:43. Do you think Henley would mind much if we moved movie night to tomorrow?” he asked. 

Felix looked at his own watch in return before looking at Sparrow, “I don’t think he’d mind. We did warn him the show may run late and he seemed fine with the possibility of postponing movie night. We’ll text him when we get home.” 

Sparrow hummed in agreement, putting his hand back in his pocket as they continued home, looking around the street as they walked. Due to how late it was, there weren’t any people out and about, the only lights coming from the lamp posts lining the sidewalks and the light up signs in the shop windows, long since closed for the day. 

Being outside at night was something that Sparrow had never realized he’d appreciate so much. Sure, there was anxiety lurking in the shadows, often keeping the man on edge, but nights like this where he could look up at the clear sky and see the glittering stars and enjoy the light breeze and inhale the nightly air, it felt freeing. 

As the two passed by a dark alleyway, some rustling caught Sparrow’s attention. He paused his steps, Felix looking back at him a few seconds later when he realized his friend wasn’t beside him. “Sparrow, you alright?” 

Sparrow stared into the dark alleyway, trying to see what was hidden in the shadows before shaking his head slightly to clear it. “Y-yeah, just thought I heard something is all.” 

Just as he was about to continue walking, a voice called out to them, “P-please help me.” 

The two hesitated, giving each other a look before Felix hesitantly approached the entryway to the alley. “Are you alright sir?” Felix asked. 

“Do either of you have some spare cash, or some change?” the voice asked, his voice sounding rough and raspy. 

Felix squinted as he hovered at the edge of the alleyway, trying to make out whoever was talking to them. “I-I’m sorry, but we don’t have any cash on us.” 

“That’s quite alright,” the voice responded. There was something about the voice that seemed off to Sparrow, but he couldn’t place it. There couldn’t be a way for Sparrow to know that voice, but the fact that it sounded familiar ate away at him the more the stranger spoke. 

“Felix, we should be getting back home,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. He didn’t want to scare Felix just because he felt uneasy. It was probably nothing. 

“Could you just help me up, sir? Before you leave? I have a bad knee.” 

Felix looked back at Sparrow for a moment before he stepped into the alleyway, the shadows swallowing him, “U-uhm, yeah sure.” 

From Sparrow’s spot on the street, he kept an eye on the dark alleyway, expecting Felix to come out seconds later, but all he heard was rustling before a muffled shout came from the shadows. 

“Felix?” Sparrow asked, taking a step towards the alley, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. 

Something was wrong. 

Sparrow heard some more rustling and a bit of muffled cries before he spotted a figure in the shadows of the alleyway. 

“You should teach your friend to be more careful. Helping the wrong stranger is going to get him into trouble,” the figure said. 

“Who are you and what do you want?” Sparrow asked, his body frozen in place on the sidewalk. 

The figure started walking forward towards him, an unmistakable limp to his step that made the blood in Sparrow’s face run cold, further cementing him to the sidewalk. 

This can’t be him, Sparrow thought. He didn’t remember Agent Vaughn telling him about some Keeper’s getting free from the raid. He thought that since his name didn’t get brought up in the court case or the fact that he didn’t see him in court meant that he died during the raid. 

“I bet you’re surprised, aren’t you?” the man asked, the light from the lamp posts illuminating his face as he stepped out of the alleyway. “Because who would have thought that you’d be seeing me, of all people, again after so much time.” 

“What do you want with us, Logan?” Sparrow asked again, his voice low but lined with fear. 

“You’re in no place to be demanding answers here, Sparrow. You should know that. Has living outside the facility for six months really put you back so much on your training?” 

Sparrow’s hands balled into fists at his side as he tried to figure out an answer. Logan took the hesitation of an answer to motion whoever was behind him in the alleyway to step forward, causing Sparrow’s breath to hitch. 

Five more people stepped out of the alleyway, one of which had Felix flush against his chest, a hand clamped over his mouth while the other held his wrists behind his back. Felix looked at Sparrow with a scared expression, his whole body trembling as his eyes started to water. 

“It’s been hard, these last six months, you know,” Logan started, slowly walking towards Sparrow. “Having to hide from the police all because the facility got shut down. They’d arrest us on sight if anyone found us. But you know what kept us going?” 

Sparrow let out a low and quiet growl as Logan got close to him, taking a small step back as Logan leaned in close. “Finding a way to get back at the person who ruined the entire operation.” 

“Felix wasn’t the one who took down the Warehouse, the FBI did,” Sparrow said, his gaze flickering between Logan and Felix. “You have no business with him.” 

Logan straightened himself as he faked a look of thought. “You’re right, it wasn’t the runt who got the Warehouse shut down, not in full. But he played a part in it.” 

“Vaughn was the one who found the place, not Felix.” 

“Yeah, that fucking agent found the place, but you know who went crying to the FBI when you didn’t return home that night you went to that party? Him. And why did he go to the FBI? Because you managed to escape and make friends, connections, something of which you had no right doing. He cared about you so much that he did everything he could to find you and get you back safely. If you hadn't defied orders and escaped the facility ten months ago, then we wouldn’t be here now.” 

This wasn’t good, Sparrow didn’t know what to do! If it were just him facing off against these guys, he’d fight back, but with Felix trapped, Sparrow couldn’t risk his friend getting hurt all because of his actions. 

“Just let him go, Logan,” Sparrow tried, a hint of desperation leaking into his voice. “You have issue with me, not him. Let him go and we can work this out.” 

At that, Logan let out a laugh, as did the other men standing around them, causing Felix to squeak in fear at the sound. “You think it’s that easy, pleading with me to let your friend go? And that I’m here for you? I often forget that you’re not that fucking smart when it comes to how the real world works. We came here for him and you just so happened to be with him. We’ve had our eyes set on this runt for months, we just needed the perfect moment to grab him, and what better night than tonight!” 

Sparrow glared at Logan as he spoke, trying to work out a way to get them both out of here safely, but anything he thought of wouldn’t work. In every idea he thought of, Felix would get hurt and Sparrow couldn’t let that happen. 

Logan looked around the empty street for a moment, turning on the spot to look back at his men and Felix, who stared back at Logan in fear. “Get him ready to transport, we’ve spent enough time here.” 

At the word ‘transport’, Sparrow started towards the men around Felix, anger and fear powering his limbs. “Don’t you fucking touch him!” he shouted, lunging for the closest man that was around his friend. 

Before he could get very far, three of the remaining four men pounced on Sparrow, quickly grabbing onto him as the fourth man grabbed a prepped syringe from his pocket. Felix started squirming the moment Sparrow was grabbed, just about missing the needle headed straight for his arm. He let out a loud but muffled yelp as the needle was jabbed into his arm, causing Sparrow to struggle even harder, but it was no use. The three men holding onto him were too strong and he was very outmatched. 

Amongst his struggles, Sparrow watched as Felix started to grow limp, his eyes slipping shut as the drug he was injected with took hold of him, forcing him into an unwanted sleep. Once he was under, Logan turned his full attention to Sparrow, who only continued to struggle. 

The former Keeper nodded to his men and they forced Sparrow to his knees on the ground. Sparrow let out a hiss as the gravel and pavement dug into his knees as he tried to pull his arms out of the grips that held them, but he slowed his attempts as Logan stepped closer to him, leaning down at the waist slightly. 

“I swear to god, Logan, I’m going to fucking kill you if you hurt him,” Sparrow growled as he glared at the former Keeper. 

Logan chuckled at the sight of the former pet, letting out a short sigh. “Your threats don’t work on me. Over the twenty years I worked to train you, you’ve only come close once, and that’s because I let my guard down. I’m not making any mistakes this time. You’re going to watch as I destroy your friend, bit by fucking bit, til there’s nothing left of him, and you’re going to help me do it.” 

Sparrow tried to jerk one of his arms free, his gaze never breaking from Logan as he let out a grunt at the wasted effort. “You’re fucking crazy if you think I’d willingly hurt him.” 

“Ah, well you see, I know you. You’d do anything to trade places with him, no matter the cost, and I think that seeing you get tortured in more ways than one will do just as much damage to him as if he were the one being hurt.” 

Sparrow stilled as the words registered, his expression falling for a moment. Logan was right, he’d do anything to make sure Felix didn’t bare the front of what they were about to endure, even if it meant sacrificing himself. 

“You’ve been told, time and time again by multiple people that you’re not supposed to form connections or to make friends because it isn’t your place to have feelings. Your job is to serve and please whoever owns you, doing whatever they ask of you with no hesitation. I am excited, if I’m to be honest, Sparrow. You know why that is?” 

“Why?” Sparrow asked through gritted teeth. 

“Because I get to hit you where it hurts. Just because we were going after him doesn’t mean that I won’t be paying special attention to you. You’ve caused me so much trouble ever since you were brought into the facility, especially after Damon took on your case. Now it’s my turn to level the playing field. You remember how you used to protect Jayden when he was alive? How compliant you got all because of a simple threat to his well being?” 

Logan stood then, nodding to one of the men holding Sparrow. “Well, you know that I won’t hesitate to kill your friend here if you step a toe out of line. I highly doubt that you want another one of your friends to die all because of you.” 

The mention of Jayden made the blood drain from Sparrow’s face as a new fire blazed inside of him. This wouldn’t be a repeat of what happened with Jayden, Sparrow couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let another one of his friends die by the hands of this fucking bastard. 

Just as Sparrow was about to start struggling again, he felt the pinch of a needle in his neck and a coolness spread throughout his body. As his vision started to tunnel, he looked up to see Logan start limping back into the alleyway as he started to lose feeling in his limbs.

“Let’s get these guys into the van, and don’t forget to restrain them. The runt will be out for a while, but with this shit’s tolerance, I don’t know when he’ll wake and it’ll be easier to handle him if he can’t move.” 

The last thing Sparrow remembered seeing was a set of headlights turn on far back into the alleyway and hearing an engine roar to life as the drugs dragged him under. 

Taglist: @mannerofwhump, @honey-is-mesi, @painful-pooch, @whumperfully, @hiding-in-the-shadows

@flowersarefreetherapy, @goronska, @blueyellow8green (If you want to be added, let me know!)

[j3scax]

My Spoiler Free Review of the Fallout Show:

Biggest, sloppiest, awesomest recommend of my life, solid 9/10.

The show’s tone was absolutely perfect, nailing the feel, tone, attitude and comedy of the fallout games, as well as understanding the atmosphere needed to give the impression of a post-apocalyptic world. One complaint I have with a lot of post-apocalyptic shows is that it doesn’t feel like the world has been fucked over, but in Fallout it really gives the impression that 200 years have passed of not a single bit of true human development on the surface of the planet.

The show’s writing can be a bit iffy in some places such as certain plot points earlier on and some lines, but in all honesty it’s all around a completely solid: plot, story and script, while also not being afraid to add to the Fallout universe and lore. The characters are interesting, intriguing and genuinely enjoyable save for one, but even then he’s still written well and an enjoyable character, despite being weaker than the other main characters.

It isn’t perfect though! And I really don’t expect it to. The CGI can be a bit, euhhh in some places, but it isn’t immersion breaking in my opinion. I am slightly disappointed certain things from the Fallout universe didn’t see representation within the show, but to be honest I think it’s really forgivable as every other aspect brought in from Fallout is done perfectly. The world itself is done perfectly, with all environments again given a feel that actually looks like and feels like the environments of the game in person. The Vault, Wasteland and other Settlements are done absolutely perfectly, and genuinely look like how I’d picture them in my head. Genuinely one of the best adapted universes to digital screens.

As for the people saying the show is only there to just decanonise the non-Bethesda Fallout games - a sentiment that has been shot down by the creative leads of the Fallout Franchise themselves - the show definitely does not do this. And it’s clear that the next season of the show will definitely focus on non-Bethesda projects, and people do need to remember this is a Bethesda show, as well as the Bethesda games - unfortunately - being more well known than non-Bethesda Fallout projects, save for New Vegas. But even then, things are pulled from non-Bethesda projects, and considering the ending, there isn’t anything to worry about in terms of decanonisation. I personally, as a long time fan of most Fallout games (I’m still iffy on 76), see this show as a beautiful love letter to the game series that I’ve enjoyed since I was 7. I grew up on the original Fallout and Fallout 2, as well as played the hell out of New Vegas, and think that these games didn’t get as much love as they should have in Fallout 3 and 4, but this tv show really makes me think that Bethesda is showing that they care about these games too, and I have faith that they will be shown in future seasons as perfectly as they have in this season.

Honestly, if you love Fallout, please watch it! If you know nothing about Fallout? Watch it anyway! Some references and such may not be as impactful to you, but I feel it has a story and plot that can be enjoyed by anyone.

Oh yeah and all the characters are hot.

[amurderof]

So Aziraphale’s “I forgive you” has been living rent-free in my brain, mostly because I can’t pin down why he said it, exactly. I’ve read a few bits of meta on the reasoning behind it (which were all good! No shade here), and I’m still grappling with it, especially within the greater context of the series. So I'm gonna talk it out.

I read a subpar (professional) review of the series in which the author criticized the minisodes because they felt it took them out of the story and added nothing to the modern day plot — which, let’s be serious, is a ridiculous take. Both the story of Job and the Resurrectionists provide a clear insight into how Aziraphale and Crowley see both their duties and how they interact with the world and people (both as part of their duties and also just because… they want to).

Aziraphale doesn’t want Job’s children to die, and he’s horrified at both Heaven’s lackadaisical approach to “allowing” Hell to kill Job’s children and their incapability of understanding that a child can’t simply be replaced by another child. He’s delighted to learn that Crowley isn’t carrying out Hell’s (and Heaven’s) orders, and even goes along with Crowley’s impromptu plan to “return” Job and Sitis’ children to them. He’s clearly uncomfortable lying to Gabriel et al and expects punishment — even Falling. I summarize all of this not because I don’t know y’all watched it, but because it’s insight into how Aziraphale approaches internal conflict. He doesn’t want Job’s children to die. He backs down from his protests when Gabriel et al call him out; but because he knows Crowley has been tasked with carrying it out — Crowley, who he has report with, who he knew before he Fell — he tries to prevent it from happening. He tries to appeal to Crowley’s once angelic nature to prevent the act, while simultaneously knowing that Heaven wants it to happen too. He's tempted by Crowley into following Crowley's lead, into accomplishing what he wanted to happen anyway but wouldn't do on his own. 

Both Crowley and Aziraphale are hypocrites but with different end results: Crowley wants to slip under the radar by sort of following orders, while having as little to do with either side as possible. He’s a hypocrite so he won’t be bothered, even if it’s lonely. Aziraphale wants to follow orders that he agrees with, while wanting to appear holy and obedient in the sight of Heaven. He doesn’t want to be bothered either, but he wants Heaven to think well of him while he’s not being bothered. He cares about being lonely. Aziraphale wants to have his cake and eat it too, and Crowley just doesn’t want to be anywhere near cake.

The story in the Resurrectionists is tragic and fascinating from a character standpoint, because it puts Aziraphale in a position of what he considers moral authority, while ignoring the harsh reality of Elspeth and (wee) Morag’s lives. Elspeth is doing something Aziraphale (and society) considers immoral, and he actively prevents her from profiting from it; it isn’t until he understands the wider scope of how bodysnatching benefits medicine that he reconsiders. Seeing the girls in distress was not enough. He hesitates before saving Morag’s life and she dies. He doesn’t want Elspeth to kill herself, but it’s Crowley that truly intervenes (and is punished for it, unlike with Aziraphale and Job). Crowley doesn't "tempt" Aziraphale into anything, because Aziraphale doesn’t agree with Crowley, and he can only be tempted to do something he wants to. 

Here's the thing: Crowley was given orders to punish Job, which he clearly disagreed with due to the suffering it would cause. He found a way around them, and roped Aziraphale into helping out.

While not given orders, Aziraphale witnessed human suffering and decided it was not enough to warrant committing a victimless crime; and when given the opportunity to do something merciful but that might put him on Heaven’s watchlist, he doesn’t. His concern over his own reputation stops him. It’s Crowley who actively prevents Elspeth from killing herself, just as it’s Crowley who tells Aziraphale to give Elspeth his money.

Aziraphale agrees with Crowley that neither Heaven nor Hell is particularly great, but unlike Crowley with Hell, Aziraphale still wants Heaven to like him. As much as he loathes Heaven’s bureaucracy and obsession with appearance, he’s still tethered to it.

So what does this have to do with his forgiving Crowley after the kiss? Well.

Just like Crowley needed a good old-fashioned talking-to by Nina and Maggie about his ~feelings~, in the time-honored fanfiction tradition of third parties helping out; I don’t think Aziraphale knows he’s in love with Crowley. He knows he loves Crowley, and if pressed I’m sure he would admit that yes, it was different than the love he felt for other things in Creation — but he wouldn’t connect the dots. He wouldn’t want to. What he and Crowley have is perfectly suitable to him, and changing anything would not only rock the boat — but it would require him to have to sort out one of those internal conflicts he finds so distasteful.

The Metatron’s plan is thus perfect: it changes things, but does so in a way that affirms Aziraphale’s own biases. The promotion to supreme archangel would put Aziraphale at the top of the hierarchy. There’s no need to take the hierarchy/bureaucracy out — Aziraphale wouldn’t want that anyway. He cares about his reputation. He's being given the opportunity to be in complete control of it. 

The Metatron also validates his relationship with Crowley, and provides Aziraphale with not only the opportunity to bring Crowley with him, but to "restore" him. In Aziraphale's mind, Crowley's becoming an angel again wouldn't change who Crowley is: but it would connect him to Heaven again. Heaven can be a drag, but it's still good, and this time, Aziraphale will be in charge and he can make sure it's good enough for Crowley, who just asked questions, after all.

(And Crowley wouldn't have to be so lonely. Ignore the fact that Crowley has Aziraphale and that's all he wants.)

And this is where it all comes together.

Not only does Crowley reject his proposal, but he also insists on his perspective -- that they don't need anyone else. They don't need Heaven or Hell. (And this is off topic but I loooove the line that insinuates they basically live in each other's pockets now, as opposed to pre-Armageddon when they met up every once in a while. Love! It!) They're at their best together, and they always have been, and Aziraphale’s falling for Heaven’s bs. They can be like Gabriel and Beelzebub. They don't need anyone else.

But Aziraphale has just been told that he can have his cake and eat it too, for real this time; and to really stretch this analogy too far, he can own the bakery too. He doesn’t want what Crowley is telling him, because he wants what the Metatron has offered. Crowley wants them to be them, free of their constraints; Aziraphale wants to be them, with control over their constraints. 

And then Crowley does what he always does when Aziraphale is being obstinate: he leads him to what they both want. Or, he tries -- the kiss is desperate, messy, awkward. Crowley wants Aziraphale to follow his lead, to succumb to temptation, as it were, how he always does. To know it's okay to do what they want instead of what Heaven expects, just like how it was okay with Job’s children.

Aziraphale knows what Crowley’s doing. He will not be tempted this time. He forgives Crowley for trying. He forgives him for following the steps of their usual dance. This is the Aziraphale of the Resurrectionists, full of moral conviction, not the story of Job.

 (And now here's a fun kicker -- does Aziraphale know Crowley loves him, after the kiss? Or does he assume Crowley had a different intent? Aziraphale is stunned after the kiss. He’s not even sure how to define what he feels for Crowley, and Crowley kissed him? Oofa doofa.)