#just wanted to make my own finally and while I have been TRYING

[gloomwitchwrites]

morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed.  Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

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[iris-qt]

𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜

⭒ ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⭒ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

⭒ ɢʀᴜᴍᴘʏ x ꜱᴜɴꜱʜɪɴᴇ | 2.4ᴋ

⭒ ᴀ/ɴ: ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ

⭒ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ ʜᴀꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ ᴄᴏᴄᴋʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪɴᴅ ʀᴀᴠᴇɴᴄʟᴀᴡ. ʜᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴜɴꜰᴀᴍɪʟᴀʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ, ɪɴ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴄᴏɴᴠɪɴᴄᴇᴅ ꜱʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴘᴏᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡɪɴ ʜɪᴍ ᴏᴠᴇʀ. ʙᴏʏ ɪꜱ ʜᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ..

“Speak no further, Nott. Ravenclaw tower at 9 and that's that.”

Fuck.

Astronomy was quite a time-consuming class, but Theodore Nott would do anything for the credits. Even if it meant partaking in various group projects. It played out in a similar way each time: he’d get partnered with some blithering imbecile and do all the work. Or, worst case scenario, he’d get partnered with some pining girl and have to hide in the deepest corners of the library to avoid their presence which consisted of blabbering on about Merlin knows what. The topic always consisted of everything BUT the task at hand, and Theo would be forced to nod at the appropriate times while doing the project for the both of them. 

He wouldn’t let anyone ruin his A grade streak.

The only person he could trust was himself.

Until you waltzed in, threatening to ruin it all with a bright smile and brisk walk. 

Infuriating.

Sure, you were smart. Possibly smarter than him, although he’d never admit it, but he hated…no despised working with another person. There were always conflicting methods and ideas which ultimately led to Theodore not getting what he wanted. And what Theo wanted was to ace this project with his own ideas. Difficult to do with a headstrong ravenclaw butting her head in. And so, when the partners were ordered to begin planning, he strode up to you, resolved with his stubborn ideals.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Theod-”

“I’ve got this, don’t worry. Just put your name on the final paper when I’m done.”

You raise your eyebrow, smirking up at the crazy boy. How dare he assume you’d easily give in to such blasphemy. You worked hard for the grades you got and this wasn’t an exception.

“Nice try, but you’re not getting rid of me,” you stand up, scooping up your Astronomy textbook in your arms. 

“But-”

“Speak no further, Nott. Ravenclaw tower at 9 and that's that,” you smile deviously, walking away, leaving Theodore scrambling to think of a way to shake you off. 

Perhaps if he pissed you off…

But how could he do that?

After consulting with the king of pissing people off, also known as Mattheo Riddle, his task was clear. He walked up the long flight of stairs leading to the Ravenclaw common room with a devilish smirk on his face.

You were waiting right outside the common room drowning under the weight of multiple star charts and apparatuses. As you heard his footsteps, you exclaimed, “You actually showed up!”

He scoffs, relieving you of some of the equipment you were holding; the pile so high it hid your face. He took most of the burden, revealing your beaming smile. 

“Don’t make me change my mind, Y/L/N,” he looked around. “Why didn’t we just meet at the Astronomy Tower?”

Your eyes light up as if you’d been waiting for him to ask that question. 

“Literally everyone and their mum are at the Astronomy tower right now doing the project.” 

Theo frowned at that as the prospect of being amongst even more people did not entice him in the slightest. Noting his scowl, you laughed. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Nott. I know a place.”

He grumbled at your demeaning statement but he couldn’t ignore the way shooting stars began ricocheting around his heart at your words. He followed you into the Ravenclaw common room, in awe of the bronze accents amongst the deep blue waves of gleaming drapes and chairs. The ceiling was made up of moving star charts and planets, making their way around their orbits. Truthfully, this was the most breathtaking common room Theodore Nott had ever set foot in.

You led them to a balcony opening up from the common room, and it contained a giant table, lanterns, and a gleaming silver telescope. He couldn’t help but think the other three houses got the shorter end of the stick, although that may just be because Nott has always been enamored with the stars. Plus, the deep azure blue spread across the ravenclaw common room just happened to be his favorite color.

You set everything down and began to set up, spreading everything out on the table with precise precision. Theodore placed a compass caliper on the table slightly crooked and you gently pushed it into a straight position. He raised his eyebrow, amused at your antics.

“You know we’re just gonna pick that up in a few minutes, right?”

“It’s good to be organized, Nott.”

“Please, I’ve seen all the crumpled parchment in your bag.”

You smiled sheepishly, looking up at him, “That’s called an organized mess.”

“Whatever you say, love-,” and his eyes widened as he realized what he said, panic blooming in them. “Love-leyyy weather we’re having today?” he grinned quite maniacally.

Lightning struck the distant rolling hills visible from the balcony as you shot a smirk at Theo.

“Quite.”

Reaching up to mess up his hair, you moved to the telescope to start setting it up, leaving Theodore wildly blushing, not wanting to reach up and fix his messy hair caused by your touch.

Did he smoke one of Mattheo’s “special” cigs today? Perhaps the stress of this project was leading him off the rails. It’ll pass by tomorrow…

Nonetheless, his plan to piss you off consisted of simply not helping at all until you got mad and quit.

He abandoned that when he saw that your ideas and methods not only aligned with his, but improved upon them.

The rest of the night was spent charting the pattern of the aligning planets and measuring their orbital distances. Awkward glances and light touches were scattered throughout this process as Theodore realized he was entering uncharted territory with you.

At one point, you both attempted to reach for a graphite pencil at the same time, hands touching, and Theodore had an awkward fit as he flung his hand away so quickly it nearly knocked over the telescope.

“Never felt the touch of a woman, Theodore?” you teased him, grinning and finding joy in his odd behavior.

At another moment, he was stuck staring at your furrowed brow and focused expression as you were doing some complicated trigonometric calculations. It’s as if he were hypnotized by your lips softly mouthing the numbers corresponding with your mathematical work. The way you had to fix a lock of hair every few seconds when it fell in your face…

He reached out and tucked that piece of hair behind your ear in a way that would prevent it from falling again.

Tearing yourself from your math, you shoot him the brightest smile.

Brighter than the cosmos visible in the dark heavens above.

He quickly looks the other way, walking off and standing in the farthest corner of the balcony. As far as he can from that evil witch.

She had hexed him.

He was sure of it.

They wrapped up a bit past midnight and agreed to meet at the same place the next night to continue working on the time consuming project …

“I’m telling you, she’s using dark magic or something!” Theo throws up his hands, pacing around the slytherin common room, ranting to Mattheo.

He began muttering to himself, rubbing his face, lost in thought about what you were doing to him. Riddle watches Theo, thoroughly amused. In their whole lifetime of knowing each other, Mattheo had never seen Theodore this worked up about something…especially someone.

It didn’t take a genius to realize Theodore was down bad, and Mattheo intended to do something about it.

“You know, I’ve caught a couple girls tryna spike my drinks with love potion…”

“AH-HA!” Theo points at Riddle maniacally. “SHE SPIKED MY DRINK. Probably my water bottle since it was just sitting on my Astronomy desk.”

Mattheo smirks, “And what’re you gonna do about it?”

“Confront her, of course. Put an end to this nonsense.”

Mattheo grinned, his intended plan coming to fruition.

“Go get ‘em Theo.”

That night, Theo met you again right outside the common room and followed you to the balcony, still stressing about how he’d bring this up with you. 

You started laying out a 150 pack of markers and colored pencils along with 3 different bottles of glitter on the massive oak table, putting your hands on your hips after unloading the myriad of art supplies. 

Theo looks horrified as he begins to doubt the respect he had built up for you in the past day. 

“Are we bedazzling the star chart?”

“No, Nott, we’re making the best poster Professor Sinistra will ever lay eyes on,” you smile, huffing happily.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about the poster,” he leans against the table, looking curiously at you.

Sure you were smart, but how did you brew a love potion from scratch? It was one of the most difficult potions to brew. Perhaps you bought it, although you weren’t rich. Love potions cost quite the amount of galleons. Especially ones this strong. It seemed to be so strong that the idea of you going out of your way to brew a love potion or spend such a pretty penny on it flattered him to no end.

Lost in his reverie, he was spooked as you approached him, leaning over him, supposedly trying to kiss him?

KISS HIM?

Theo enters lockdown mode as his eyes widen to the size of the moon in the ink black sky. He  doesn't know how to react to your sudden move, so he closes his eyes and slightly parts his lips, awaiting your own. He buzzes with ecstasy, realizing he wants this more than anything. Want? 

No.

He needs to feel your lips on his own.

Instead, he hears the loveliest little laugh and a gentle “boop” on his nose. He opens his eyes, bewildered, and realizes you had simply leaned over to grab a protractor from the table he was blocking.

“Spaced out there, huh Nott?” and you collapse into a fit of laughter. “Get it? SPACED out? Because, you know, space.” She points to the night sky. 

He responds with a dazed, furiously blushing expression.

“Just me? Ok,” you sigh dramatically as you move over to start creating the informational poster.

This was it. 

Confrontation time.

Her evil antics had gone too far, and, as warm as the feeling felt, he was ready to dispose of this funny, breathtaking, witty, heavenly project partner. His maddening astronomy partner that had him seeing stars. He huffed angrily as he cleared his throat, grabbing your attention.

“I know what you’re doing.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Our..project?”

“No, I know what you did to me.”

You cross your arms, smirking, wondering if this was his weird, socially awkward, very Theo way of confessing. You weren’t emotionally blind, it was obvious this boy was so down bad. But you couldn’t judge. So were you. Perhaps for longer than he had ever been.

“And what did I do to you?”

He scoffs, “Don’t play dumb.”

“Impossible for a genius to play dumb,” you grin.

He squints his eyes at you, heaving a sigh, “You spiked my water with a love potion.”

There was a moment of silence between you two as you registered his bizarre claim and burst into laughter. Theodore must have truly lost his mind.

“And where would I get my hands on that, Theo?”

He looked offended at your laughter and glared at you, fully convinced there was foul play involved in whatever feelings were brewing in his heart. 

“Listen, I know you did something. Just tell me.”

You smirk, moving closer to him, eyes averting down to an unbuttoned button on his shirt.  Fixing it, you glance up, speaking softly, “What is it you feel, Theodore.”

He felt a lot of things at that moment. He felt as if you were the most ethereal sight in the world. The dramatic lighting of the candles highlighting your face in every right angle. He felt as if he could implode at that moment; the redness of his face causing a cataclysmic supernova of his very soul. He felt as if he could stare into your eyes forever, sinful thoughts arising at the cocky look on your face as you peered up at him. So many thoughts in his head, and ever since the previous night, each and every thought, the ones in the forefront of his mind and the back, had consisted of you. 

He subconsciously moves closer, finally letting his gut feeling have a say. Finally listening to his heart over his head, and his heart told him that what he felt for you could not be replicated by any curse, hex, or potion. It was real and pure. It was foreign but as sweet as the nightbird’s song. As radiant as a galaxy far far away. 

But you weren’t far far away, you were right in front of him.

And maybe he’d get that kiss now.

He leaned down as you tilted your jaw to perfectly capture his lips in a passionate kiss, hands in his hair, his on your neck. 

Making out with Theodore Nott while you were supposed to be glitter bombing the hell out of your guys’ project was not on your agenda, but you’d easily make room for it anytime anywhere. 

It was everything you dreamed it would be.

Pulling apart from the kiss of your dreams felt like being launched light years away from him, but in reality he was standing right there, breathing heavily, his lips swollen and pink.

He quickly looked away, fidgeting anxiously, “That…that's what I feel.”

“Definition of actions speak louder than words,” you laughed, taking his hand in yours.

He smiled at you, heart racing a million beats per second. 

“That was no love potion,” he laughed, tucking your hair behind your ear once more as his hand laid to rest gently on your chin, tilting it up.

“No, it was just my raw charisma, Theodore.”

He laughed, shaking his head. His laugh was a sound you hadn’t fully captured, and now that you had, you never wanted him to stop.

Theo learned about a lot more than planet alignment during this project. He learned that you were an amazing kisser.

And hey, maybe team projects weren't so bad after all.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

The Tennis Players and The Girl They’re Always With

✰ art donaldson x f!reader & patrick zwieg x f!reader

✰ word count: 1.4k

✰ summary: friends to lovers with your favorite tennis stars.

✰ warnings: language, a heated kiss that turns into more, allusions to smut, art is a simp and has the energy of a kicked puppy while patrick is the cockiest mf on earth.

the people have spoken, and so has my puss...

maybe a part 2???

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main m.list

✰ not my gif, credits to owner.

The concrete under your legs was still warm from the summer sun, even though you were sitting in the shade. Tuesday’s were always practice days for Art and Patrick. And though you were friends with your tennis stars, you never indulged in the sport itself. 

Rhythmic beats of the tennis ball ricocheting off the rackets flooded your ears as you’re face down in your notes. Stanford was a dream come true, especially with one of your best friends attending with you, but when Patrick came into town, so did his reckless behavior. 

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You’ve known the boys since high school, their boarding school just down the street. It wasn’t hard to find them around town, they always seemed to be everywhere you were at the same time as you. When the talk of a house party made its way through town, the three of you ended up talking for hours. 

Once you established your friendship, you made sure to be at both their tennis matches, your enthusiasm for your friends was unmatched. 

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Occasionally, you would look up towards the duo, their ability to perfectly match each other amazes you, even now. It wasn’t long before they began to pack it up for the day, approaching you with sweat on their skin, Patrick wipes his forehead with the bottom of his shirt, “Wanna go grab a bite? I’m starving, fuck.” You quickly shove your notebook in your bag before reaching your hands up, Art and Patrick each grabbing a hand to pull you up. 

“Sure,” you dust off your clothes, “but you guys need to shower or something. You both smell awful.” You begin to walk towards the fence door when you feel warmth and moisture wrap around you. Art and Patrick have entrapped you in a hug, their stink overwhelming your senses. A laugh erupts from your chest while you try to push them off, “Let go!” They finally peel off of you with a laugh, “You guys suck. Maybe I don’t want to go get dinner with you.”

“It was Patrick’s idea,” Art defends himself, and you can’t help but laugh at how easy it was for Art to confess. He’s always been so quick to make sure you’re happy, even if you’re joking. Whether it be making sure you were feeling okay or holding the door open for you, Art was always on top of it. 

Patrick shoves Art in response before you three head over to Art’s dorm. Whenever Patrick was in town, he always stayed at Art’s because his roommate decided to drop out of school with no warning; and honestly, it made life easier. You could stay over whenever you wanted, and Patrick could have his own bed whenever he wanted to visit. 

Art pushes open the door, a wave of cool air hits your cheeks, and you let out a sigh of relief. You make a b-line towards the bed and lay down before you yell out to the pair, “Hurry up, I’m starving.” Shutting your eyes as you bask in the feeling of the mattress. 

The blond is the first to head into the bathroom and freshen up, the sound of water hitting the shower floor is heard throughout the small room. You can feel Patrick grab both of your ankles before lifting them and placing them on his lap as he sits down next to you. He leans his back against the wall before he looks down at you, “You know Art is in love with you, right?”

Your eyes snap open, Patrick’s question catching you off guard. You let out a small giggle, “What?” There’s no way he’s serious. 

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be dumb,” his hand still resting on your ankle, “it’s painful how hard he sucks up to you. And that look in his eyes? That’s something more than a friendship.” 

This makes you think about all the times you’ve had a conversation with Art, you’re trying to understand where Patrick is coming from. But all you do is draw a blank. “First of all, I have no idea what you’re talking about, you’re delusional. And two, Art just cares, like any friend should. There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

The brunette throws his head back in disbelief, “I bet that if you asked, he would tell you everything. He’d do anything for you.” 

You sit up and laugh, “No fucking way–.” You’re cut off by Art opening the door, his towel hanging low on his torso, water beads still falling down his chest. The silence is deafening as you and Patrick stare at him. 

Art can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as his eyes lay on the sight of you sitting so close to Patrick, that you feel resting on his lap. His cheeks begin to warm, “What?” 

The only thing that’s on your mind is the conversation you had with Patrick before Art’s interruption. Your brain can’t form words, but Patrick is quick on his feet like he always is. “Nothing,” he responds, short and sweet, before he hops off the bed and swiftly enters the bathroom, leaving the two of you in an awkward silence. 

You awkwardly find some stray piece of thread to play with as Art reaches for the clothes in his dresser. Once his back faces you, you look up at him, the muscles in his shoulders accentuating with each slight movement. 

An unexplainable wave of adrenaline appears in your mind, you need to know if Patrick was right. 

Pushing yourself off the twin mattress, you walk over to Art as soon as he turns around. “You’ll tell me if I’m reading this wrong, right?” The air around you is warmer than you remembered. He says nothing but nods his head. The sudden seriousness in your voice catches his attention, his whole being focused on you. “How long have you been in love with me?” 

Art’s eyes widen at your question, his heart is pounding and he can’t find the words to answer. His lack of response was enough to shut you down completely. Your eyes shut in frustration, “I’m so sorry, that was a stupid question.” 

And as usual, Art is quick to ease your worries. “Hey,” he holds you by your waist, “don’t be sorry.” 

All you feel is embarrassment in this moment, “Fuck, I just ruined this, didn’t I?” 

He huffs out a small laugh before pulling you in to capture you in a kiss. His skin is still warm from his shower, and suddenly, you melt into it. Your hands reach up to hold the sides of his face, keeping him in place as his touch entrances you. 

Without you realizing it, you begin to move as Art is leading you towards the wall, pushing you against it. The kiss quickly begins to carry a wave of lust behind it, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth at the eagerness. 

A hand leaves his face, to reach behind him and pull him in impossibly closer as Art’s arms trap you in. When his mouth leaves yours, you whine, but as soon as he ducks his head into your neck and begins to suck on the supple skin there, you don’t complain. 

His damp hair is tickling your cheeks, as a louder moan leaves your lips. He feels too good, and if you don’t feel more of him soon, you think you’ll die. 

Pushing Art off of you, his face flashes a look of sadness before you push him onto the bed. You stand in front of him, his towel falling further down his torso as he spreads his legs, a cocky smirk on his face. You’re just about to climb on top of him when the sound of the bathroom door opens, and suddenly fear attacks your senses. 

There Patrick stood, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes fell on you two. Looking back at Art, he’s in the same boat as you. You can tell he’s embarrassed, and it kills you. You’ve never liked seeing Art upset, it always struck a chord in you to help him. So now, you think fast, and the words that come out of your mouth are unexplainable. 

“Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to join?”

✰ author's note: holy cow i need the both of them so bad it's criminal. the results of my poll are so funny, EVERYONE LOVES ART DONALDSON. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog!! ok, byeeee!!!

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Help me! I'm hypnotized...

The loser roommate I got stuck with did something to my brain. I didn't think it was possible, but that pathetic fag somehow put me in a trance. I don't remember how: with a pendant or spiral; but it doesn't matter! What matters is that at any second he can say a trigger word, and I end up like this: smiling and flexing like a fucking idiot 'till he releases me.

Sure, I look like I'm alright, but I've been stuck in this pose for two hours. My biceps ache and my shoulders are on fire. Add to that a leg cramp that I cant walk off and you'll realize how awful this torture is.

I'd just been trying to finish an essay (his essay to be exact.) I might be on the football team, but this lazy geek is forcing me to do his homework for him! And even though he ordered me to do that, against my will, he calls me up and says my fucking trigger word! It's fucking ridiculous! I used to go out and party with my teammates on nights like this, but now I'm stuck being this dweeb's mannequin-on-command.

I just know he's going to boss me around when he finally gets here. He'll probably make me cook him dinner again. I'd spit in it if I could -hell, I'd probably poison it if I could- but I know I'll be stuck in my own body again. I hate it when he tells me to smile and serve him like a waiter. God, its humiliating...

He makes me workout during my free time, which I have a lot of now that I can't speak to any of my old buddies. I gotta say that my body's never looked better. I guess their is one upside to being under his control: whenever he tells me to train harder, I have to do it.

The gym is the one area of my life where I can at least pretend that I'm not someone's trained monkey. Still, the fact that I can't even shower without his permission is a pretty harsh reminder. Whenever I get back from a workout, my legs march straight to the table where I sit, flex, and smile while I wait for him to tell me what to do. It doesn't matter how tired or hot I am. Sometimes, he doesn't even let me shower. He just tells me to mop the sweat up with my shirt and then put it back on.

I think the nerd has a thing for sweaty jocks or something. The thought of this creep making me do all this to get his little dick hard pisses me off more than anything...

I applied for a job today. It wasn't because I wanted to. My roommate decided that he wants more spending money, so he turned to me and said that I was going to earn it for him. So it wasn't enough for me to be his personal chef, maid, and eye candy! I have to be his fucking ATM now too?!

The tie wasn't my idea either. He told me to go buy some fancy clothes to make sure I impressed my "future employer." He's such a dweeb, and now he's making me dress like a loser too.

Obviously I nailed the interview. It wasn't hard when he programmed me to say things like "I've always wanted to deliver pizzas," or "I want to be the best employee you've ever had!" He made me sound like such a kiss-ass for a stupid minimum-wage job. Even the guy interviewing me thought I was being a bit excessive! I got hired on the spot, and I'm already scheduled every night this week, because my roommate specifically made me ask for as many hours as possible.

Now that I'm done with probably the most humiliating thing I've ever done, I'm stuck flexing with a tie on 'till that asshole gets home...

I got my first paycheck after a long couple of weeks doing his classwork during the day and delivering pizzas at night. My roommate texted and told me to wait by the front door with my paycheck. Apparently, he's going out tonight with some of his loser friends and wants the cash now. I can't believe I'm about to hand it over to him.

"Hey, handsome," he calls, shutting his car door.

"I'm glad your home, sir. How was your day?"

I do not give a shit about his day! He ordered me to say that whenever he gets back. He's also programmed me to get up and hug him like I'm a fucking queer in love!

"Better now," he purrs, squeezing my butt cheek while we hug, "You should come with me and my friends tonight."

The last thing I want to do is be around him and his pansy-assed friends. "Yes, sir," I smile.

"We're going to a gay bar, and I think you would be an excellent wingman."

My stomach drops at the sound of a gay bar. I don't want to be anywhere near that place, and I really don't want the guy with total control over me parading me around that place like I'm his fucking slut! Where is this going? He wouldn't make me do anything gay, right? The terrifying truth is he could. He could order me to act like a stripper there, or...or worse. Fuck! I don't think there's anything he couldn't make me do. He could order me on my knees right now, and I'd do it with this stupid smile still plastered across my face. He could make me blow his tiny cock, and I'd be helpless to do anything other than enthusiastically suck! I don't want to go to that gay bar. I have to escape.

"Yes, sir," I hear my voice gleefully ring out.

[dreameralive]

i think one of the most noteworthy things about Blaise that i haven't really seen anyone discuss is his tendency to liken others to children, his weaponization of it, its relation to him being a child abuser, and its relation to his defeat.

one of his first lines of dialogue, before he even introduces himself, is him humiliating Franziska by calling her 'little von Karma', and then bringing up something retroactively embarrassing she did as a little girl.

he frames this as genuine nostalgia, but to me, it's pretty clear this was a purposeful, and almost sadistic, powerplay.

there's also these lines. these aren't too strange, out of context - "let's all play nice" is a relatively common phrase, and in the second screenshot where he's discussing Kay and Edgeworth's friendship, they are literally youths (well, compared to him). but in context, it's clear that this is part of him attempting to assert his dominance over everyone else.

he wants to let everyone know that he is the adult here, and all they are is children - and thereby, they are completely powerless to his end-all authority, so they shouldn't even bother attempting to resist. this is further emphasized during his logic chess segment.

he calls Edgeworth 'my boy', he reminds him that he is his 'senior in life', he tells him he's being naïve. he threatens to never give back his prosecutors badge if he doesn't stop trying to question his authority. he asks him, mockingly, if he's scared. then, while grinning, he tells him that there is nothing he can do, and he should give up already.

he once again, more blatantly this time, is attempting to force someone else into accepting that they are the weaker party and that he could do anything he pleased to them, and once again, he is weaponizing the societal power imbalance between a child and an adult to do so.

i could go on and on for a while with more examples of this, but then that would make this post really long and rambly. so, instead, i'm going to discuss what his behavior ultimately results in.

this is probably one of the most disturbing interactions in Ace Attorney.

he does this purely so Sebastian will feel humiliated and ashamed in front of his colleagues, people he respects and who in turn are supposed to respect him. he does this to remind Sebastian that he is his father, and Sebastian is his child. to Blaise, that means he has complete control over him. and until this point? he actually does.

he has controlled every aspect of Sebastian's life to be exactly how he wants it. his path in life, his school, his tests - even Sebastian's constant usage of his surname serves as a reminder that Sebastian's only purpose to his father is to be an extension of him, a tool to feed into his ego. an object. something he owns.

note how, in their sprites, Sebastian is typically tilting his head slightly downwards, and in his crying sprites, he's leaning down. meanwhile Blaise stands high, and in his grinning sprites, his head is tilted up, as to literally look down on the person he's talking to.

but in the end, right before Blaise is convicted, right as Blaise tells him he should just remain his idiot son, Sebastian is looking up as he tells him goodbye. a way of saying that he's not beneath him, and he won't let him act like it anymore.

Blaise is immediately infuriated by this, and says all you've ever been able to do is depend on me. he screams Sebastian's name in anger - but it's cut off.

in fact, there is no more dialogue from Blaise after this. because he has no more authority, no more ability to scare Sebastian or anyone else into submission. in the end, Sebastian has finally taken back his autonomy that Blaise has robbed him of. so has Kay. so has Simon. all of them are children he has mistreated, threatened, and jerked around for his own selfish gain, but ultimately, they all still have more power over their own lives than he ever will again.

there's a lot more i could say on this, but these are all my thoughts i could organize. thanks for reading.

[gyuzgrl]

her //kmg// pt.3 happy ending

summary- as confusions build to an overbearing crescendo, a sudden visit by Mingyu's sister leads to an unplanned encounter with your ex-husband. will seeing him one last time help you make up your mind?

Things can't possibly get any more confusing.

For Mingyu and for you.

While on one hand, he wants to do right by you and let you go, he can't escape the simple fact that he needs you. Long, hard days filled with thoughts of you are his reality now- they have been for the past week or so. Unable to move, to eat, to sleep, Mingyu finds himself at the lowest he's ever been.

And that message- god, he feels so stupid for contacting you when you clearly didn't want to talk. The tiny letters below his text, marked 'read' feel like little needles moving deeper into his heart every time he clicks on your chat.

That isn't to say he resents you, though. It's quite the opposite. Mingyu's time alone has given him the opportunity to grow a newfound hatred for himself, and he spends every waking moment wishing he was someone else. Someone who didn't hurt you.

You, on the other hand, are confused too, but for a different reason altogether. Although you love him, and long to be with him, the question of your self-respect remains. Letting him back in would mean giving the man who cheated on you a second chance, but staying away would mean losing the man you love, over a mistake he regrets making.

As you sit across from your lawyer, hand trembling with the weight of consequence, your thoughts race around like jolts of electricity- flooding your head with doubt.

"...and this is the last of it, so you can jus-" he trails off, noticing your shaken state.

"ma'am?"

Your head snaps up, eyes widening.

"y-um, yes, I'm listening- sorry-" you mumble, swallowing hard as you blink away the tears welling up in your eyes. Thankful for the opaque, white table separating you, you suck in a deep breath, trying to hide your trembling limbs.

"don't be,"

He offers a gentle smile, eyes filled with pity as if to say- 'oh, you poor thing...', and slides one final paper your way.

"here's the last of it- after this, you'll be free for good,"

For good? As in permanently? There's no going back? You look towards the man before you, helpless and confused. Although this is all your own doing, you can't help but feel a pang of doubt at the last leg of your journey.

"so after this we would have officially separated? he'll no longer be my husband?"

From the slight tremble in your voice, your lawyer gathers that something isn't right. It's the same quiver he detected in Mingyu's words a few days back.

He sighs, retracting the final document.

"ma'am, we can do this on another da-"

"no I just-"

"there's no rush, is there? I can tell your mind isn't completely made up just yet, and the last thing I want is for you to make a decision you aren't 100% sure of."

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, dripping onto the papers below. And then another. And another.

The universe can be so unfair, so cruel, sometimes. What twisted satisfaction do the Gods get from watching you suffer like this? Things could've been so good with Mingyu. He could've treated you so well, been the perfect husband, loved you so truly- but no.

They had to come in and ruin it all.

"you can take your time, I'll be at the front desk if you need"

You barely acknowledge his departure, staring blankly at the table as tears blur your vision. It shouldn't be this hard. It really shouldn't. After all, this was your decision- your choice.

Mingyu fucked up. He broke your heart. He's the reason your self esteem is at the lowest it's ever been.

So why...

Why does this feel wrong? Why does it hurt so bad?

Your breaths grow shallow, each inhale speeding up until your heart thuds against your chest. The rapid rise and fall of your shoulders paints a pitiful picture, and you want nothing more than for the Earth to open up and swallow your sorrow.

That night you spent with Mingyu, opened up a world of possibilities- a world of hope- only to have it all come crashing down in an instant. For one night, you got to lay with him, to love him, to be loved by him and that was it. You saw a faint glimmer of hope, that shining light at the end of a long tunnel, but it slipped away just before you could reach out and grasp it.

Reality shook you awake and now here you are- crying in a cold meeting room, all by yourself, wishing none of this ever happened.

It pains you to say it, but the truth is these past few days have been really hard. You've spent hours scrolling through your phone in search of Mingyu's pictures, spent every night forcing yourself to put your phone away only to have him haunt your sleep- you just can't push him away.

All of a sudden, there's a knock at the door. Your head jerks up, eyes making out a petite frame through the translucent glass doors.

"come- come in," you call, rubbing your eyes furiously, "I was just about to leave"

The door creaks open and a familiar face comes into view.

"oh-"

Mingyu's sister.

Minseo's eyes grow watery at your state and she hurries into the room, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"how did you-"

"word travels fast," she interrupts, cradling your face as she stares sympathetically at your puffy, red eyes. "I thought I'd check in on you both, but neither of you has been answering my calls..."

"sorry I-"

"don't be! I just wanted to see if you're doing okay, y'know?"

Her eyes lock onto yours, asking silently- 'you are doing okay, right?' and you can't help the way your gaze falters. She looks so sincere, so apologetic, you don't want to lie to her.

"y/n,"

"I'm fine"

"y/n."

Her voice is firm.

You meet her stare.

"let me buy you something to drink, hm?" she smiles, veiling her concern. "starbucks?"

"I don't go there anymore,"

"someplace else, then."

You nod, offering her a small smile, and you make your way to a coffee shop nearby. As you find a table and place your orders, Minseo's smile falters ever so slightly.

And then she begins to speak.

"I know this is the last thing I should be asking, but um- you haven't- you haven't heard from Mingyu, have you?"

You sigh, shaking your head.

"oh."

The slight quiver in her voice has you on edge, and your fingers itch to reach out and hold her hand. Before you can stop yourself, a hesitant- "why're you asking?" slips past your lips.

"it's been a little over a week... all of us have tried to call or text or- I don't know, we've tried everything- fuck, I even went to his house, but still, there was no response. I'm a little worried, you know?"

Attentively, you nod along, brows furrowing as she goes on to explain further. A few minutes pass, and her story moves from bad to worse. So far, from what you've gathered, it isn't clear where or how he is.

Minseo's eyes begin to glass over, lips quivering as she speaks on.

"I know what he did is wrong, I would hate him too if I was you, but he's-" she cuts herself off with a trembling sob, "he's my brother, my family- and- and I don't know how to fix him, y/n. I don't know what he's doing in that house, I don't know if he's even in there anymore-"

Before you know it, your own eyes begin to water, and she takes in a breath.

"I don't know what to do, y/n"

"listen- Minseo I, I'm the last person he'd want to see right now- I'm not sure what you've got planned but-"

"no- no he loves you don't you get it? he only wants to see you right now. not me, not his friends, certainly not that other girl- just you."

You stay silent.

"I'm asking for a lot, I understand, but he's- I just need to know he's okay. and- and you're the only person he'll let in"

That's how you find yourself here, standing before the doors to your apartment. The familiar frame floods you with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, and you're almost about to turn around when something catches your eye.

Newspapers, bills, letters- all scattered at the foot of the door, unopened, piled upon each other the way you've seen before at abandoned homes.

Tentatively, you press the doorbell, cringing at how the sound seems to pierce through the still air. The sharp twang echoes all throughout the house, like a bullet ricocheting, and your heartbeat quickens.

For about a minute, there's no response- just silence. Maybe this was a bad idea. He probably isn't even h-

"leave me alone, Minseo." a hoarse voice interrupts suddenly, drawing your attention right away.

He's here.

Right behind this door, he's standing, breathing.

"it's um, it's y/n, actuall-"

Before you can finish your sentence, the door swings open, and to your dismay, Mingyu looks like shit.

Standing before you dressed in the same old pajamas, your ex-husband looks a mess. His eyes are so red and swollen you can't tell if he's slept at all. He's lost weight too... The once proud bulk of muscle he sported has drastically reduced to a much slimmer, skinnier figure.

But this all seems like nothing when you notice something held tight within his grasp-

"is that my-"

"no! no- it's uh, it's" he sputters helplessly, stepping back to let you in, "I was jus-just cleaning up! yeah just um, just cleaning,"

Your heart twists. The iron grip he's got on your t-shirt tells you a completely different story, but for now, you let it be. You don't need to dig up his feelings. Not when you haven't sorted your own out.

"how come you're- why are you here?"

"oh uh, m-my stuff? yeah! all my stuff is here and I need it, so..." you lie, looking around the house as you walk to the living room.

It's colder than before, somehow. Haunted. There's not a light or a lamp in sight, no fire burning in the fireplace- just total darkness. Everything is just as you left it too; your mug of coffee is still on the dinner table, Mingyu's briefcase is still set near the couch, the wall clock still hasn't been wound, now telling the tale of the past.

He notices your wandering gaze and suddenly feels conscious. Scratching the back of his neck, Mingyu ushers you quickly to the couch, blocking your view from the side so you don't see the true mess.

The bedroom.

Your bedroom, rather.

Oh, if you saw the state of that room-

Dark, heavy blinds shut off the outside world, a swirl of your clothes and blankets litter the bed, and the air hangs heavy, with spritzes of your perfume clinging to every surface.

The last thing Mingyu wants is for you to see the state of that room.

"could I-"

"have a seat-"

You both start at the same time, turning to each other awkwardly. He let's his gaze linger on yours for a moment too long, and all hell breaks loose. The air of pretense dissipates within seconds. Mingyu's eyes tell you all you need to know.

You're the first to look away, suddenly overwhelmed by the emotion behind his stare. The longing and guilt and hurt etched deep in the universe of his eyes is too much. If you stared any longer, there's no holding either of you back.

"you first," he urges, "you were saying?"

"nothing really, no I uh, I just wanted to get some of my stuff, so if I could just go ins-"

"I'll do it!" he interjects suspiciously, his body going rigid at the thought of you walking into his pathetic little chamber of secrets. "I'll um. tell me what you need"

Unable to catch on, you insist further, telling him- "no! no really I can do it myself, please-"

A few dozen fruitless protests later, you've won.

Somehow.

Mingyu tried his best, although in vain, and now he's got you sitting on the couch as he scrambles to tidy up to the best of his abilities.

But of course, he should have known.

With your level of patience, it was only a matter of minutes before your curiosity got the better of you and led you straight into the bedroom.

"hey, you really don't have to bother so mu-" you start as you walk in, freezing at the door when your eyes glance over what once was your bedroom.

With a bunch of your t-shirts tucked away under his arm and a couple more scattered over his pillows, Mingyu halts his actions, paralysed.

The air is damp and clammy and it stinks of your perfume- strong enough to give you a headache. It feels as if time itself has stilled, as if it hasn't moved past that night you spent together.

Your bra is still in the corner of the room, your slippers are still at the foot of the bed, your pillow still has tear stains at the edge; it's like you were here just yesterday.

"Mingyu..."

He looks guilty. Like a puppy that got caught red handed with it's little snout burried deep inside a can of treats. You hate to say it, but it tugs at your heart a little more than you would've liked.

"I know how this looks-" he starts, still clutching desperately onto your clothes, "but I promise I'm okay." His voice cracks at the end, a slight quiver making it's way through the tough facade he's put up, and you feel your eyes begin to water.

Your eyes glisten with the saddest tears you've shed- the brightest, most sorrowful stars in Mingyu's galaxy- and suddenly, it doesn't matter to him that he's not yours anymore. Taking long, purposeful strides towards you, he closes in, dropping the clothes in his arms and taking hold of your face instead.

"I'm okay." he whispers, cradling your face, "I promise."

The tears begin to fall, one after another, and soon you're sobbing like a lost child. Your face crumples into the most devastating look Mingyu's ever seen, and before long, a heavy drop cascades down his cheek.

He thumbs away your tears continuously, swiping gently at your skin in distress with an expression that reads- 'but why are you crying? baby, please stop crying-'

It's a pathetic picture you two paint, but the moment means more to you than the he would know. All your thoughts of revenge and rage have cooled and now you see things for what they truly are.

He loves you.

He loves you and he knows he's fucked up so he's letting you go, no matter what becomes of him. To give you a shot at finding someone better, someone who won't hurt you like he did.

"please don't cry-" he begs, "I'll stop! okay? I'll clean up and give you your things ba-"

"you idiot"

The quiver in your voice silences him in an instant.

"you- why are you-" your voice gives way, cracking as you choke back a sob, unable to speak further.

Mingyu's lips tremble watching you. This is all his fault. You don't need to see this. You don't need to feel sorry for him. Yet, here you are, crying terribly for the man who hurt you.

Crying for him. After all he's done.

As if he hasn't given you reason enough to cry, Mingyu seems to have managed to add to the list, albeit unintentionally.

"baby-" His thumbs wipe away your tears and he lowers his face towards yours. "baby, please don't cry,"

He looks defeated. Like the last standing soldier, helplessly outnumbered by the enemy. If he felt like an asshole before, this just took the cake. Despite vowing to himself every night to never hurt you again, never make you cry again, here he is.

"c'mere, we'll go outside, okay? don't- don't stay in here"

Dumbly, you let him lead you to the hall, standing beside him as he grabs a tissue from it's holder. With the most gentle touch, Mingyu dabs at your skin, blotting away your tears, unaware of his own.

The proximity between your faces is dangerous. He's too close. While he's focused on wiping away your tears, you're torn between your thoughts.

His lips are right there, a mere inch away from yours. Technically, kissing him would be the easiest thing in the world- afterall, he's right there,- but somehow, he couldn't feel further away.

"did you stay in there this whole time?"

Finally, your voice finds it's way back.

His fingers halt their movements, and his eyes meet yours.

"yeah." he sighs.

There's an immeasurable guilt in his eyes, one that almost forces you to look away.

Almost.

Screaming from within, your mind urges you to draw your eyes back, but your body doesn't yield. It can't, rather. This was a bad decision to begin with- going to see your now ex-husband, when you yourself aren't certain where you stand. Do you still love him? Are you going to be okay without him? Will you be able to forgive him?

Despite being on shaky ground, you decided to come see him, and now, whatever resolve you've managed to build over the past week, comes crashing down.

One thing sticks out to you.

If there's anything that hurts more than a divorce, it's this- seeing the man you love turn into something unrecognizable, seeing him so struck with guilt and grief he barely seems alive.

As if connected by string, your eyes stay on each other's, neither one of you daring to look away. The pull of a strong magnet draws your bodies closer, and he whispers- "I miss you,".

With the gap between your lips closing soon, your eyes flutter shut, lips trembling ever-so-slightly with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

Mingyu's breath fans over your face, the heat of his body burning softly against yours, and you lean closer, trying to close the gap between you and him, when all of a sudden, that warmth disappears.

Your eyes snap open, widening when you see that he's backed away.

"what ar-"

"we shouldn't-" he gulps, turning away as he steps back, putting safe distance between you and him. "it didn't uh, didn't end too well last time,"

Oh.

Right.

You hang your head, shoulders drooping- "you're right I shouldn't have forc-"

"no! no, I want to kiss you so bad, god I wanna kiss you- I just, let-let's talk first? before rushing into things, I just, y'know, I think we should talk. and- and I need you to be sure that this is what you want"

Your stomach flips hearing him speak.

'god I wanna kiss you'

"just kiss me, please" you whisper, holding back another wave of tears.

"I don't want you to leave again" Mingyu's brows scrunch together, a look of pain painting his features as he reminds you of what happened. Of how you made love only to part the next morning.

"I-"

"we c-"

You interrupt each other once again, growing tense as the air begins to weigh down on you both. There's a stale, heavy feeling clinging to everything, and it smells distinctly of the past.

"I can't lose you again," he says softly, eyes glossing over. "I won't be able to live with myself if I get to feel you again only to let you go in the end"

Here lies the last step, the final decision.

Mingyu's words mark the end of your dilemma- you have to choose now.

Letting out a shaky sigh, you shake your head, trying to stop the free fall of tears- "I'm so confused-"

"you're confused and I've hurt you and I wish I could change things but-" he winces, running his hands through his hair, "but I- no matter how I think about it, I love you. I love you and I've never stopped loving you. If you want to end things here, I understand, okay? I really do. After what I've done- I don't want to be forgiven I just- just please stop hurting"

He pauses, sniffling.

"and if moving on is what you need, if someone else can help you heal, I'll gladly let you go. so stop caring about me, okay? I'll- I'll be fine, I am fine, see?" he laughs through tears, clenching his fists, "just- I want you to be sure of whatever you decide."

"Mingyu..."

"I love you, okay? I really fucking love you and that's why I'll be alright. just show me that you'll be okay, that you'll find someone better-"

"there is no one better you idiot-" you sniffle, stepping towards him slowly, mind miraculously made up. "I'll find a good man, an honest man, a man who doesn't make me cry but I'll know for every second that I breathe, that he isn't you."

The air stills. The sound of cars and people and the city suddenly disappears as if in a vacuum.

Marching towards you, Mingyu closes the distance between you and him, wrapping his arms around your waist as you throw yours over his shoulder. His palms press down on your lower back, fingers splayed, and he burrows his head in the crook of your neck.

"I love you- I love you I love you I love you," he chants, lips pressed against your skin.

A hand slides up to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer still, and your grasp tightens around him.

It's like a scene straight out a movie- like perfect fiction with it's tear-stained confession and reconciliation- and you swear you hear music. The orchestral build, the grand crescendo that plays when two lovers are finally reunited at long last.

There's violins and cellos and harps and rhythm, and it all feels complete. It all feels right.

A tear wets the skin of your neck, and you pull back, gazing intently at Mingyu. He opens his mouth, taking in a sharp breath.

"I've missed you-"

"I missed you too,"

You reach up briefly, standing on your tip-toes, and press a chaste kiss to his lips, smiling sweetly with tears swelling in your eyes.

He clears his throat.

"what's next?"

You shrug, eyeing him mischievously.

"I've just gotten divorced", a humorous smile lights up your face, "don't I need to find myself a handsome young man now?"

Mingyu matches your grin, pecking your lips quickly before saying-

"how 'bout I take you on a date- say, Saturday, 8 o'clock- and we see where it goes?"

"mm, I'd like that very much"

[oblique-lane]

Oh why yes my good sirs. I've actually already made a post about him but I deleted it, so I'm bringing it back now. THE MOST PAINFUL ONE:

Inside of Medic

(Mostly headcanons/guesses)

I've been thinking about Medic's aspirations lately and I found that it's all a little trickier than might look at the first glance. What's the chance he likes medicine just for the sake of medicine? With the way he's obsessed with it, I doubt it's high. My man is a manic genius.

Yeah, how about we start the old story about The Doomed Since The Beginning? Medic is surely a very unusual individual, and while it's not a problem at the battlefield, it definitely must've caused him a lot of trouble as a kid.

I suppose it's started early. Imagine a child who dissects dolls/animals/other things(?) just to see what's inside. He's not afraid of blood, he's not afraid of what he sees. For him it's pure curiosity.

For others - a very disturbing sight.

"The child is a psychopath!" they rumor. They think he's going to grow up into a monster. "We should be wary of him!".

But the child doesn't understand their panic. It's not like he wants to kill people left and right? What's the problem? Well, the problem is that–

Other people are usually very empathetic to the point of actually feeling someone else's pain. Little Ludwig could never understand that.

Other people feel bad when they hurt others. Little Ludwig only felt bad for people treating him differently after he hurt them.

Other people mourn the lost of their loved ones. Little Ludwig never knew grief. He liked to have people around him, but once they're gone, he would simply move on because there's nothing else you can do.

He didn't know remorse, he didn't know the "inner morals" other people shared as if almost telepathically, he didn't know guilt.

That's when he learns that he's clearly not a normal person.

That sparked his curiosity even more: "What is it inside a person that makes him NORMAL and how does it get broken? Why is he like that? How to fix it? What does even make a person - person?"

So his obvious adapting solution was to become a biology enthusiast, and after that - a medic. That would justifiably allow him to experiment with the bodies and thus, feeding into his curiosity of what living things are. He masked a lot and his family made sure to pretend everything was fine and he's a nice boy to get him into a medical school.

"What is it that makes people abnormal?", he didn't seem to be interested in psychoanalysis, though. Maybe because Freud's ideas were too ridiculous and Jung's were too intangible for his liking. How come a human brain brain be so mysterious, it's just a piece of grey fat filled with electricity! Inject some chemicals inside it and it behaves 180° differently! Poke it, squish it, turn around - it's just another organ.

Conclusion: the brain is not the problem.

The problem must be the soul, then?..

(Assuming, Medic is a man of religion, knowing his relations to Satan).

But where is the Soul stored, exactly? He reminds me if the MC's girlfriend from the Matthew Stokoe's "Cows" (you don't need to search that, really) who was obsessively trying to enter her body in hopes of finding something that is "bad and rotten and makes our living so miserable". She believed it was something physical.

Well, in Medic's case, he was trying to find where the Soul in human body is. The Soul, responsible for God obedience and God repulsiveness; some pure, some stained.

And apparently, he found it.

He found it and immediately got rid of it in order to become "better than a human". To make others higher beings. Who knows, maybe the Soul was too ugly of a concept for him. Or maybe it was too small and laughable he couldn't stand it being taken so seriously.

He came to treat God as equal, since he's also now able to twist people's Souls like he owns them. He felt like he became more than he ever could be. He laughs at the greatness of his genius, feeling like he finally belongs; he finally is who he is, freely.

Maybe because he was never a person.

A Higher Man, a self proclaimed God. He's too blinded by his power to see what was inside his ever growing ego since the beginning.

If there is anything.

...

Tw N*zism

There should've been my headcanon about what Medic was doing before Mann Co. but I came to the conclusion that it's too inappropriate after all. No, Medic was not a n*zi ever but still this headcanon is based around the ww2 atrocities and I find it concerning to implement fiction over the real life tragedy. Or even if we consider tf2 univers alternative to the real life, I still think there's a lot of issues to it.

I've mentioned it in my other post but.

In short: Medic worked in the "prison" (the only place hired him, a dropout) as a scientist but instead of torturing the prisoners "for science" he modified their bodies to be strong as fuck, so they beat the shit out of guardians and escaped, and Medic flew to America where he was found by another science company.

I personally struggle with understanding of societal norms and morals so I actually can't say if what I wrote was really offensive or not. Even considering that my own nation was a victim of Holocaust. Just being cautious because don't want to be hurtful. If I was, I'll make a better headcanon and remove this, and if I'm good, let me know and I'll tell the details.

...

This was not an analysis, I've just thrown my visions at you shamelessly!!

Painful ending here!!!!!!! Please don't put a gun to my head, because *clank clank* I'm going it first!!!!

[caramelcleopatraa]

COGNAC QUEEN

word count: 1.9k

x: @heauxvibez asked someone to write something based off of Cognac Queen by Megan Thee Stallion (amazing song rec, I recommend you go stream the song) not proofread

content: 18+ mdni, Roman x Semeni (OC), dirty talk, oral (m and f receiving), cuddle fuck, a lil bitta fluff at the end

I'm lookin' paid and pretty (yeah)

Hair hanging down to my back, huh

I put it on him last night (woo!)

He calling me back to back, hey (hey)

Semeni sat with her legs crossed in the spacious, dazzling condominium. The big window panels showcasing the beautiful city lights. While these two were in their own little world. Far from the public eye. 

Her neon hot pink dress adorned with long ruffles perfectly outlined her figure. His eyes stayed on her plump lips as she sipped the amber drink from her glass. Relishing in the savory taste and enjoying the atmosphere he set.

Drop me a pin where you at (at)

I'm gonna come 'round like a 'Lac (like a 'Lac)

I get in my 'Gac on that 'Gac ('Gac on that 'Gac)

He call me Megan the Mack (Megan the Mack)

“You okay? You’re a little quiet.” Roman sits next to her, filling the empty space like a puzzle piece and putting the bottle on the gray coffee table. “I’m fine, I'm just watching you.” Semeni was never shy when it came to how she felt about him. They weren't in a serious relationship, but they spent their free time with each other. They never assigned a label to their relationship. They were just friends, who took each other out to expensive restaurants, spoiled each other, and fuck occasionally. Nothing special. 

He raises his eyebrow in amusement and motions to himself in an up and down motion. “You been looking at all of this, huh?” She takes one final sip from her glass, emptying it and placing it on the small coffee table. Roman observes her movements slyly, watching her beautiful eyes blink as she sits the glass on the table, watching her body rise as she takes a deep breath. She was mesmerizing.

“Yeah I have, and I want all of it,” Semeni says, placing her hands on his chest, feeling him up through his black polo shirt. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes flutter shut from the feeling of her hands on his body. “I love feeling your hands on my chest,” he says softly. “I know you do, but I know you want my hands somewhere else.” 

He looks at her brown, gentle eyes and says, “So put ‘em there.”

—-------------------------

“Damn baby, that feels so good.” His black dress trousers were rolled down to his thighs, leaning back on the expansive gray couch with his arms laying on either side of him. Meanwhile, Semeni is kneeling in front of him, between his thick legs, stroking his dick at a medium pace. 

“You feel good baby?” His small whimpers and heavy breaths contrasted his tough exterior.

“F-fuckk baby, stay right there on the tip.”

A thick wad of spit drips from her lips, landing on his sensitive mushroom tip. Her hands cup the tip, fastly bobbing her hand on his tip. God did he go wild. His head tilted back, letting the pleasure take over him.

“Y’wanna cum?” He pants and nods furiously, clutching onto the big couch cushions to stop himself from bucking his hips into her hand. “You know I wanna fuckin’ cum.” His head stays tilted back. He knew not to look in her eyes. If he did, then it was over for him. “Look at me, Roman,” she says, using her unoccupied hand to rub up and down his thigh. He laughs to himself at her request, knowing that she is trying to set him up. “I know what you’re trying to do, sweetheart.” She pouts to herself, surprised that he didn’t fall for her usual tactics. ‘Okay, let’s try again’ 

“Please look at me, daddy. I wanna see your eyes when you cum.” He lets out a deep throaty moan, still clutching onto the couch cushions. Her voice, her words, her hands, how good she was making him feel. Doing all of the right things to make him crazy. Which is why he can never get enough of her. And probably why he was looking into her captivating eyes now. Frozen and still, but somehow on fire. “There we go daddy, look me in my eyes when you cum,” She purrs, shifting from side to side, ignoring the overflowing pool of wetness forming in her shorts. 

She stuck out her tongue and held him at the base, tapping him against her tongue, but going back to his tip once again. There were no more passive grunts and groans, only melodic moans that filled their ears. Her eyes locked on his, as she put her hands behind her back, using her tongue to lick the underside of his dick before taking him in his mouth. “Oh shit~ I'm coming. Ohh fuckk-” His fingers weaved through Semeni’s brown hair, jerking his hips into her mouth. She moaned around his cock every time he met the back of her throat, swallowing every drop he gave her without complaint. “Damn, girl,” he pants out, taking his hand out of her hair. She tightens her lips around him, sucking him up one more time before she’s done. She wears a lopsided smirk on her face, watching him catch his breath. Pride surged through her. “My mouth felt that good, huh?” Roman lays down against the couch, shifting and positioning himself so that he is comfortable. “Need to take a nap big bo- “Get your ass up here and sit on my face.”

He know I only wanna

Come over put it on him

I got that woah-na-na-na

He drink that shit like water

She anchored herself by tightly grasping the dark gray couch. Singing out delicious moans. Letting him hungrily lick her up into oblivion. Staring into empty space as her eyes crossed numerous times, but focussing hard enough to see his wavy black hair spread out beneath her. Feeling his hands dig into her thighs, working his mouth in ways that make her cry out in pleasure. 

Now it was her time to become undone.

“Oooh- shit~ i’m close,” She pants, prompting to lick long bold stripes along her pussy, and sucking on her clit for a quick second. And he repeats. Creating a ferocious, unescapable cycle.

Her keens of pleasure and needy whining didn’t fall on deaf ears, only encouraging him to keep going. Humming into her pussy like he took the first bite of a delicious meal. She could feel her legs shaking against his face, despite the burly hands and arms wrapped around her legs to keep her in place. “Fuck- i’m finna cum on your face, daddy,” she says slurred, with flushed cheeks and half open eyes. Just as she finished her sentence, like clockwork, she came all over his face. Softly bucking her hips against his tongue, riding out the enormous wave with his tongue as her surfboard. Now she herself was covered in a thin sheet of sweat, breathing heavy on top of him. But she couldn’t get up, his arms were still wrapped around her thighs. “At least let me clean you up before fucking you into the mattress.”

Fall in love would be dangerous (yeah)

Fuck you like I've been dranking (uh)

Cognac on my blankets (yeah)

Real bitches don't fake it, ay, ay

They had ventured into almost every room in the condo. The living room, the game room, the balcony, and now the bedroom. Finding new positions in each room. Thank god there weren't many people that lived in the same building, he hated hearing her restrained and muffled moans under his hand. They laid in the bed, cuddling in the sheets, but nowhere near done. 

Her leg rested atom his hips, her arms wrapped around his neck, while he hid in the crook of hers. Placing those delicate kisses along her neck while pounding into her. She could barely see the other buildings out of the large windows on the balcony doors due to her blurry vision. But those distant buildings were her last thought. Her mind was clouded with the person who was holding her tight between the silk sheets.

Not a word had been said since they laid down in the bed, which was unusual for the two. But considering how needy they were, words didn't need to be said. They had been around each other long enough, tangled in one another long enough to know how each other feels. His low eyes as he tilted his head back and his faster paced thrusts. and her mouth agape, eyes rolled to the back of her head. Feeling the overwhelming waves of pleasure together as they nestled closer. Their chests rising and falling against each other, their heart beats loud as bass drums at highschool pep rallies. Yeah, nothing special.

You look good, you look good to me

Give me hug, it feel good to me

Hold me up, you too good to me

Cut 'em off, I know you would for me

Semeni opened one of the gray drawers, pulling out overnight clothes she had left the last time she stayed over. You know.. Just in case for situations like this. The bathroom had been hot and humid due to a long shower they took. But of course it wasn't just a shower, because he could never keep his hands to himself.

“You damn well live here by now,” He said, shirtless with loose gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and leaning on the door frame. “You say that like you’re so bothered with that.” She approaches him, her neck cranked to look up at him. “Nah, not bothered. I'm just surprised that you took over one of my drawers.”

“Is that a problem, Roman?” She knew that they were both playing, but there was a tinge of seriousness in her tone. “No, you know you’re welcome to treat this place as your own.” She turns her back to him and smiles, looking back at the drawer filled with her clothes. 

“You tell that to all of your other hoes?”

“You think I would have other women over here when you have a whole drawer to yourself?” She shrugs her shoulders and sits on the bed, pulling the comforter over her smooth legs. “Maybe I should be askin’ you that question.” She scoffs. “​​There’s no man you gotta worry about, cause I'm focused on the man in front of me.” She said the last part to herself. Not realizing that she may have said that a little louder than she intended to. Roman was intrigued to say the least. She was always upfront with whatever she wanted to say. So it was so interesting to see her flustered, mumbling secret words to herself about him. Her attention turned to him when he turned the light off in the bathroom, making his way to her. He laid on the bed next to her,letting the new cold silk sheets graze his skin. His hand reached out to grab her chin, stroking her face softly with his thumb. “And I'm worried about the goddess in front of me. You ain’t got nothing to worry about, mama. And if you ever doubt that, I'll prove to you that you’re the only one I'm focused on.”

Okay…. Maybe this is something special.

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove @sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000

[doumadono]

Hii I saw that you do emergency fics, and they're very awesome, so is it okay if I send one too? It's been quite stressful with senior year of high school, entrance coaching and the pressure from myself and my family, and the stress gets so bad to the point of migraines (which I always complain about) so I wanted to request a Bakugou comfort fic for the stress?

Sparks of solace - Bakugo x Reader

A/N: I'm really sorry to hear that you're under so much pressure right now. It sounds incredibly tough, but remember, it’s okay to take a moment for yourself when things get overwhelming. You're doing an amazing job juggling everything. Hang in there, and be sure to care for yourself too. You've got this!

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

The final bell at U.A. High School didn't so much signal the end of the day as it did the start of another battle for you.

As the other students streamed out the door, eager to shed the weight of their responsibilities, you remained seated, your head cradled in your arms against the cool surface of the desk. The familiar ache of a migraine pulsed behind your eyes, exacerbated by the relentless pressure of senior year, entrance exams, and the towering expectations from both yourself and your family.

The classroom door banged open with a force that only one person in the school could muster.

Heavy footsteps echoed across the room, coming to a halt beside you. “Still here? You planning to move in or what?” The voice was unmistakably Bakugo Katsuki's — abrasive, impatient, and impossible to ignore.

You lifted your head just enough to give him a weary look. “Just trying to make it through the day, Bakugo.”

“Tch, you’re letting that crap knock you down? Seriously?” Bakugo scoffed as he dragged a chair beside you, the metal legs screeching against the floor. His approach was neither gentle nor tiptoeing around sensitivities. “You’re tougher than this, aren’t you? Migraines again?”

“Yeah, and everything else. It’s all too much sometimes,” you admitted, hoping he’d tire of your company and leave you to wallow in your misery.

Instead, Bakugo huffed, his brow furrowing. “That’s because you’re letting it pile up until it crushes you. You’re stronger than this crap, you know.”

His attempt at encouragement was as subtle as a sledgehammer, yet it held an undertone of genuine concern. Bakugo wasn’t known for his soft side, but his presence, strangely, was somewhat comforting. His attempt at motivation might have been wrapped in layers of impatience, but Bakugo had chosen to stay, a fact that carried its own form of comfort.

“So, genius, got any better ideas?” you challenged, your voice tinged with both sarcasm and a hint of curiosity.

“Obviously.” He stood abruptly, grabbing your arm to pull you to your feet. “Get up. We’re going out.”

“Out? Out where?” You stumbled slightly, caught off guard by his sudden decisiveness.

“Somewhere that isn’t here, dumbass. You need a break, and I’m not watching you turn into a complete wreck. We're going out to get some damn fresh air. And ice cream. It helps, believe it or not,” Katsuki declared, leading the way with a certainty that left no room for argument.

The streets of the city buzzed with life around you, a stark contrast to the stillness of the classroom.

Bakugo’s confident stride was uncompromising as he led you to a small, local ice cream shop. The choice was yours, and you opted for something simple, while he chose a fiery flavor with spicy chocolate chips.

“Sit,” Bakugo commanded, pointing to a bench. He plopped down beside you, arms crossed, watching the sunset with a grunt. “Look, I get it. It’s tough. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by pushing too hard. Learn to recognize when you’re at your limit. Being strong isn’t just about pushing through the crap. It’s knowing when to take a damn break so you can fight another day. That’s what real strength is.”

Your eyes drifted from his face to the horizon, where the sky was painted in strokes of orange and purple. “I didn’t expect to hear a pep talk from you, of all people.”

“Tch, it’s not a pep talk. It’s common sense,” he muttered, though the harshness in his voice had lessened. “I deal with the same crap. But I figured out that sometimes you just need to explode a little less… and breathe a little more. I’m just making sure you don’t fall apart. Someone has to.”

You chuckled softly, the tension easing from your shoulders. “Explode a little less, huh? I’ll try to keep that in mind, boss.”

Bakugo’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Yeah, well… just don’t forget it. And if you need to — whatever, just come find me or something. I’m not gonna let you crash and burn over something stupid like stress.”

The simplicity of his declaration, the gruff concern laced through his words, struck a chord within you. Here was Bakugo Katsuki, known for his fiery temper and relentless ambition, offering a lifeline.

“Thanks, Kats. I mean it,” you said, turning to meet his gaze.

He shrugged, his eyes softening just a little as he looked away. “Whatever. Just don’t make me regret this.”

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

04: Reputation

Charles Leclerc x driver!OC (Dafne Morelli)

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

Warnings: anxiety, social anxiety, hate, Sebastian Stan (yes, he's a warning🫣🫠)

a/n: Hiiii!!! How are you doing? Here you have a new chapter! What do you guys think that will happen next? I'll read you! Oh! And at the end of the chapter you have some surprises!!

Masterlist

previous part

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

They always said that hair holds memories.

When I was little, I always liked to have long hair because I loved standing in front of the bathroom mirror and watching how my mom tied it up in a ponytail, pigtails, or braids. It was a moment for the two of us, watching each other through the reflection of the mirror, my eyes following the gentle movement of her hands and fingers through my hair, and seeing how she wrapped a colorful tie around it. Sometimes she even wrapped a ribbon and made a little bow.

When I started karting, I always tied my hair in two braids and wrapped them around my head, making me look like I was wearing a crown made of my own hair. It was useful, letting me be comfortable with the helmet and not worrying about tucking my hair inside the suit to keep it from going wild while I drove.

Growing up, I always took care of it, sometimes getting attention from my girl classmates who asked me for tips on how to take care of their hair, wanting to know what products I used to make my soft curls look perfect.

When I started to get a little famous, brands like Kérastase and Garnier wanted me to be their face and sponsor me.

My hair holds so many memories. It was part of my identity.

But it holds bad memories too.

Charles pulling my pigtails. Nearly ruining my hair after dyeing it during a breakdown. Charles putting gum in it. Having nightmares after watching “V for Vendetta,” thinking that someone shaved my head.

If I want to be a new version of myself, I have to cut things from the root.

New hair. New me.

“Dafne, why are people saying that you hired a lawyer and you'll file a lawsuit against Charles?”

A few days later, after the unfortunate meeting and call with Fred, my sister Erica came to help me get ready for an event in Tuscany. Something about a high society charity event.

“You are taking it too—” she stopped, turning around and looking at me as I walked out of the bathroom. “Did you cut and dye your hair?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, grabbing my makeup bag and putting it in the suitcase.

“What? Why?” she frowned.

“Because I wanted to,” I said. “It's easier to style, easier to wash.”

“You never complained about your long hair!” she exclaimed, making me roll my eyes. “And why is it blonde?”

“Because I wanted to, Erica!” I sighed. “I wanted to try something different! Jeez!”

She frowned slightly, scanning me with her eyes. And somehow I felt so small, judged by her.

“Blonde doesn't look bad on you,” she smiled, finally. “But it will be weird, you always had long hair.”

“I know,” I sighed, touching my hair and biting my lip when I felt it barely touched my shoulders.

She looked at me, following my movements with her eyes. It’s like she was waiting for me to talk more, to explain, to break down. She waited for me to say something, to answer that first question she asked, wanting me to tell her what I had been doing the last two days.

“Well?” she frowned. “Why did you hire a lawyer?”

“Take a guess,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “A certain someone just talked shit about me some days ago, and let’s not talk about the so-called punishment he will receive.”

“Look, what he did wasn’t nice. But he was drunk,” Erica sighed, making me feel betrayed.

“So? Does that give him the right to talk shit?” I frowned. “You are my sister, and you are defending him? He won’t apologize for that, Erica!”

She took a deep breath looking at me and I looked away, clenching my jaw. I know she gets along with him, that Jules connects them and somehow they share the pain of losing him. But why is she defending him?

“I’m not defending him,” she said, her voice sounding more serious. “But this is getting out of control, Dafne. You two have to stop now before the whole team and our families get more involved.”

“Sure,” I scoffed. “I’ll make sure to stop this.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed, getting up from my bed and grabbing everything so we could leave for the event. I made sure to leave enough food for my cat and then I grabbed the keys and my bag.

The event was not far from where I live, making it easier and faster to go, just using Erica's car and then reserving a hotel room so I could get changed and ready for the event. My sister Erica always made sure to have everything ready, the makeup and hair artists would be there shortly after we arrived at the room.

“I don’t think the hair team would be necessary,” I sighed, looking out of the window, watching the landscape pass by.

“They’ll find something to do,” she sighed. “I hired them, and if it sounds bad, I won't pay them to do nothing. At least let them… I don't know, do a hairstyle or something.”

“Yeah, sure,” I sighed.

When we arrived at the hotel near the event place, I opened the door and immediately heard people calling my name.

My name and some other nasty names.

“Whore! Slut!”

I clenched my jaw, trying to focus on the people that came to me with a smile, holding notebooks and pens, signing the papers, and taking pictures with those who showed me their phones.

But at some point, the insults grew louder, making my sister walk towards me and hold my arm, pushing me inside the hotel.

“Now do you understand why I'll sue him?” I mumbled, clenching my jaw and pulling my arm away from her hold, walking towards the elevator and waiting for her to grab the room key card.

I looked down at my phone, trying my hardest not to open my social media. If they dare to call me those names in person, I don't want to know what they call me on Twitter or Instagram.

“Erase the media apps,” Erica said, getting in the elevator with me.

“I barely open them,” I lied.

“I don't care. Erase them from your phone.”

I sighed and nodded, grabbing my phone and doing what she said. I should let my manager take care of this if there was something to worry about.

“And that lawsuit…” she sighed.

“I won't give up on that,” I whispered. “He took things too far this time. I won't let him act however he wants and think he can stay innocent all the time.”

“God, if only you two acted like adults and talked things out…” she sighed, rolling her eyes.

If only she knew… All the times I tried to talk to him, he came up with another reason for me to hate him. In the end, it was easier hating him than trying to befriend him.

“I think I reached out too many times, Erica,” I sighed. “And it's time for him to see that I'm not a doll he can play with.”

“But still…”

I shook my head and sighed, walking out of the elevator and going to the room. I opened the door with the card and got inside, sitting on the bed. The stylist team will come soon, so I have to get dressed quickly.

“This time it's his turn to fix things,” I said when I saw Erica walking in. “If he wants to, of course. But I highly doubt it.”

The dress is too tight. I can barely breathe with it.

Or maybe it is because of the anxiety making my chest and stomach feel tense.

The moment I got out of the car and my feet touched the ground, hearing the clicks of the cameras and the calls of the photographers, I felt my breath hitching in my throat. My palms started to sweat, making me rub them on the material of the dress to dry them, but they started shaking the moment I walked deeper into the crowd.

“Deep breaths,” Erica whispered, placing a hand on my back.

I nodded nervously and walked towards the photoshoot zone, watching the photographers take pictures of people in front of me: actors, models, singers, other athletes.

I took a deep breath and looked at the first cross on the floor that was closer to me. I have to wait for them to call my name and place me there.

“Dafne Morelli. Formula 1 driver,” someone said, the man in charge of the photoshoot.

I took a deep breath, two, three. Chin up. Shoulders back. Straight back. Fake smile.

I stood on the cross, looking around at the cameras when the photographers called my name. I tried to focus on the people who called me, ignoring the heartbeat pounding in my ears. Someone led me to the next cross and then to the next one. And when the photoshoot ended, I looked at the people with microphones and cameras.

“It's not obligatory to do interviews,” Erica said, holding my hand. “It's just for the people who were requested for it. And you are not on the list.”

“Oh… Sure,” I nodded. “That's better, honestly.”

She smiled weakly and nodded, walking with me to the main room where everyone would be sitting at tables for the gala.

“Who are we sitting with?” I asked her, leaning closer to her.

“Other athletes,” she said. “And the table closer to us is the one with actors.”

“And they are…?” I sighed, closing my eyes and fixing my hair a little.

“Believe me, you won't believe it,” she said.

“What? Why? Who is there, Meryl Streep?” I laughed softly. “Anne Hathaway? If she's there, please remind me to take a picture with her and invite her to a race.”

“Oh, Anne is, and of course, I'll remind you to invite her,” she smirked. “But someone else.”

“Who? Emma D’Arcy?” I gasped. “I haven't watched the new season of House of the Dragon yet!”

“She won't,” Erica laughed. “It's actually someone you have a crush on…”

“Wh—” I gasped. “No way.”

“Oh yes.”

“Oh God, Erica! If I was anxious now, I'd feel even more anxious!” I groaned. “Sebastian Stan is here?”

“Yep,” she smiled. “And he'll make a speech.”

“Oh fuck,” I sighed. “I can die in peace.”

“Drama queen,” she laughed softly, rolling her eyes.

When we finally walked inside the room, I somehow felt self-conscious. People looked at me the moment I walked in, talking in low voices, hiding their mouths with their hands.

Are they talking about me? Did they hear those false accusations? Do they believe what Charles said?

I sat at our table in silence, looking at the plate and not daring to look up. They are looking at me, right? They are talking about me.

I sat at the table, grabbing the napkin and placing it in my lap. I heard a waiter on my right, asking something, probably about a drink, since he was holding a bottle that looked like white wine. Not finding my own voice, I shook my head, avoiding eye contact with the waiter and grabbing the water bottle that was in front of me, filling the glass with cold water.

Somehow, the food right in front of me doesn't look good. I'm not hungry anymore. I looked around, smiling fakely while I grabbed the glass with cold water, drinking it all and serving myself another glass. I played with the food, tried to eat something, but the knot in my stomach was so tight that I could barely eat more than two bites. The water looks fresh and makes my throat less dry. The next dish looks delicious and smells amazing, but it's too much pasta, too much, and I can't eat it. I played again with it, moving the spaghetti around the plate to make it look like I ate something. The waiter took the plate away, barely touched. My glass of water was empty, I needed more water. More water. More water. The dessert, a tiramisu. My favorite. I wanted to eat it, but…

“I need to get some fresh air,” I mumbled to my sister, grabbing the napkin from my lap and getting up, not being aware that my favorite actor was talking through the speakers.

I walked out of the room, feeling everyone's eyes on me. My chest was burning, my heart was beating too fast.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mumbled, pacing back and forth, with my hand on my chest and trying to breathe.

I don't know what I was doing. My phone was in my hand, reinstalling Twitter and logging in.

Why am I doing this?

Hundreds. Thousands of notifications. Mentions, retweets, DMs.

I installed Instagram and logged in.

Mentions, tags, DMs.

Videos of Charles at that party. Of me screaming at him. My sister Soleil and Arthur holding me by my arms and pulling me away from him.

And then flashbacks came to my mind.

Charles in my room. Charles' lips on mine. Charles kissing my neck. Charles mumbling a name that's not mine. Me trying to fight but giving up. Me taking off his shirt. Him taking off my sleeping shirt. Us in bed. Charles kissing me. Charles moaning—

“Hey, are you okay?”

I gasped, flinching and dropping my phone to the floor when I turned around surprised, being taken out of a spiral of thoughts and flashbacks.

He was standing there. Sebastian Stan was standing there.

“Yeah, yeah, I…” I swallowed thickly, gasping softly when I felt small tears blurring my vision. “I'm okay.”

“You didn't look okay some minutes ago,” he smiled weakly. “I'm…”

“Sebastian Stan, I know,” I laughed nervously. “Big fan.”

“O-oh! Well, I'm a fan of yours too,” he smiled, taking a few steps closer to me.

“Y-you are?” I whispered softly, surprised.

“Of course! The first woman to win a Formula 1 race,” he nodded. “It's impressive.”

I looked at him, surprised. Is he really talking to me? Does he know who I am? Am I dreaming?

“You… you were having an anxiety attack, right?” he smiled weakly.

“I guess so,” I sighed. “Just… Many things happened lately.”

“Oh, I understand,” he nodded. “Let me guess. Something controversial that has everyone against you on social media so you read everything and let it get into your mind?”

“How…” I frowned. How does he know?

“Believe me, I went through the same some years ago,” he sighed. “The best decision is to delete those things from your phone and ignore them.”

“Yeah, well… I did some hours ago,” I mumbled, blushing. “But I installed them again. I don't know why.”

“You were spiraling,” he nodded. “I noticed it. I was giving the speech when you walked out. As soon as I finished, I talked to who I guess is your sister.”

“Erica,” I nodded.

He smiled and nodded, walking closer to me. He knelt in front of me and grabbed my phone from the floor, smiling weakly when he looked at the broken screen.

“I'm sorry, I surprised you,” he sighed.

“No… I think it's better that way,” I smiled, looking at him.

Am I in heaven after dying? Why is he talking to me? Is this some type of game? A dream? A nightmare? Now he will just say that he thinks I'm a fraud and that I don't deserve the seat.

Just what Charles said.

“Don’t believe what they say about you,” he said suddenly. “You know your version. It's their choice to believe you or not. You don't owe them anything. Don't let those words ruin a reputation you fought to build.”

I looked at him, surprised. He knows about the rumors?

“And by the way,” he smiled. “You look amazing with blonde hair. Everyone was talking about it, you are more famous than you think, Dafne.”

I took a deep breath and looked at him, somehow feeling the air getting into my lungs and making the anxiety go away.

There are people who don’t hate me. I’m more famous, he’s right.

This is how I picture the girls

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @apollosfavkiddo @sltwins @glitterquadricorn @ladystardust05 @theseerbetweenus @vizzzashley @auawdo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @leptitlu

[b1ravenclaw]

Hey, I saw your requests are open. I was wondering if you’d consider writing some breeding kink smut for Cassian x AFAB reader from ACOTAR? Or Poly bat boys x AFAB reader?

I was thinking about the fae cycles the other day and wondered if female high fae only have their cycle a couple of times a year, do they have a time when they’re more fertile, and would male fae be able to sense that?

And then my brain went down the smut path of Cassian or the bat boys sensing that the reader/their mate is in that time of their cycle and being super possessive or fighting with each other over who gets to have her and get her pregnant.

If you do write something, can I ask that there is no daddy kink please. I just don’t see Cassian or the bat boys being into that with all their own father issues.

Thanks!!! 🦇🤎

Here it is!!! I loved your request. I chose to do it with only Cassian, buuuut I really want to write a poly bat boys in the future!

Summary: You are ovulating and your mate knows it.

Warnings: pure smut, no plot, breeding kink?

“General…” I said while sitting right on my mate’s lap.

“Y/n.” He groaned, his hand finding my waist and settling me further onto him.  “What have I told you about calling me that?” 

“To only say it on very necessary formal occasions… or when it’s just the two of us in our room.”

“Good girl,” he whispered in my ear, his big hands stroking my thighs, my waist, and the little pouch I have on my lower belly (his personal favorite to caress). “And are we in our room?”

“No, but we are all alone.” I countered, grinding a little onto his lap. “General”

“Yeah.” He groaned again, his hands holding my hips firmly so as to stop me from moving anymore. “But anyone could walk right in.”  

“They won’t.” I counter trying to move but to no avail, he was always physically stronger than me, but I knew his mental resolve would soon crumble.

“But they could. What has gotten into you sweetheart, huh? Can you not behave? Have I not taught you good manners?” 

“You have Cass, but please…” With his hands firmly holding my hips my legs were free to do as I pleased, and upon opening them he finally got a good sense, or rather a good sniff, of how much I needed him. 

“Cauldron.” He cursed lowly, I could feel his briefs straining under me, his grip becoming deathly only arousing me furthermore. “Is that what it is about then?”

“Is it a crime to be needy for my mate?” He hummed kissing down my neck, one hand stroking my side. I was hot and so was he, our bodies fuming with desire. 

“But you are especially needy today, normally you behave so well…” He opened my legs more, his touch was almost of a ghost, dancing dangerously close to where I wanted it. To where I needed it.

“Don’t know General, just know I need it.” Taking the opportunity of his loosened grip I grinded more onto him, feeling almost the full extent of his desire. “And I think you need it too.”

“Hmm, I want it. But I don’t think I need it nearly as badly as you.” I was dizzy, his touch alone enough to make me go mad, but his kisses were what made every coherent thought leave my head. 

“What do you mean?” I almost whined, the thought that he didn’t need me as much as I needed him clouding my judgment.

“You are ovulating, sweetheart. Can’t you feel it?” He pressed my back more onto him, grinding up to meet my ass. His other hand pressing down on where my womb would be. “The dying need to fuck.” He whispered. “To breed. To be full of your mates cum, to lay down and get utterly fucked, not by my fingers or even my mouth. But by my cock.” A desperate sound left me, and he stood up abruptly, taking my hand in his and leading a slow tortuous path to our shared bedchambers. 

“Not true.” I tried to say, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. 

“No? Then why are you so desperately wet.”

“You have not touched me there yet, you can not tell.”

“Oh sweetheart, I can practically hear your pretty cunt, she has been talking this whole time.” I was as red as his siphons, glad that the house was suspiciously empty. He opened the door to let us inside and closed it behind me, his body never leaving mine, and as soon as I heard the door click I was on him. Grabbing at his leaders, touching him anywhere and everywhere. He was right, I was desperate, the only thing in my mind was his glorious cock and how it fit me so well. How we fit so well. 

Damn fae senses, damn the mating bond, damn him for knowing me so well. But it was exactly what I wanted, him to fuck me full and stuffed of his cum. 

“General.” I said again, my voice dripping of lust, and I saw it in his eyes the moment his resolve broke. I willed our clothes to vanish and soon we were both naked on the bed, our bodies grinding together.

Moans filled the room as he laid me gently on my back, his calloused fingers leaving goosebumps on its search for my body. His fingers stopped at my breasts, teasing my peaked nipples. 

“I love when you are like this, all spread out for me.” His eyes were darkened with desire, but what I felt down the bond was pure love and adoration. I couldn’t wait for him to worship me nearly as much as I could not wait to sink down on his delicious cock. His hand trailed down my body, finding the pearl between my thighs, gently he stroked my clit and as my moans got louder I could feel his need growing stronger.

“I think what they say is true, y/n.”

“What, Cass?”

“That when a female is ovulating the hormones drive a male crazy.” His fingers sank into my cunt, curling and hitting just the right spot, but not quite. Not like his cock could. “Cause it’s driving me crazy not to fuck you deep and hard right now.”

“Why don’t you?” He chuckled as I whined.

“You were so whiny and needy, I wanted to be romantic.” “Don’t be.” I breathed, his fingers working me closer and closer to my peak.

“You sure sweetheart?”

“Yes, General, please.”  

I knew he wasn’t going to fuck me without preping me first, so I wasn’t surprised when he leaned down and licked at my cunt so my orgasm came stronger. Harder. And so it did, he was quick to sink into me and the moans that left both of us were purely sinful. His strong arms holding me close as he thrusted harder each time, the mushroom tip of his cock doing wonders for my pleasure. Cassian looked like a God on top of me, wings spread out wide, his beautiful face shining with sweat and the remains of my arousal. I could not help it as the pleasure came crashing down on me, I clenched hard around him, milking him hard. His moans turned into whimpers and as he came, as I felt his cum coat my walls, my need was reborn. Turning us around so as he was sitting down on the bed I started riding him harder, faster. I could feel him deeper in this position and it was all that I needed. 

After a while I did not know anymore when my pleasure started and where his ended, my only thought being of feeling warm and full. 

“Cass,” with a final whimper our limbs untangled, as I layed down trying to regain my surroundings I felt him shifting and getting out of bed. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t.” He kissed my brow and quickly returned with a wet cloth to clean me up. 

“I love you darling, you did so well.” The praise went straight to my heart, and I sent gratitude down the bond, after cleaning me up we both lay on the bed in each other's arms. His scent engulfed me, being all I needed, slowly putting me to sleep. 

“I love you too Cass, more than anything.” 

[justabigassnerd]

A Safe Home

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 8,174

Warnings - Tim shows signs of slight anxiety (it's my fic and I pick how I self-project onto Tim Bradford), brief mentions of Tim's dad, fluff, angst, inaccurate descriptions of how fostering works, swearing, mentions of guns

Summary - after his talk with Lucy, Tim decides to move forward with the idea of fostering you

Sequel to 'Unexpected Bond'

A/N - hey y'all, back at it again with part two of my previous Tim fic (this is what happens when y'all encourage me). I had a lot of fun exploring this second part and honestly, I did have another idea pop into my head regarding this story so that may or may not happen. anyways I won't ramble, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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After spending most of the night scouring the internet in search of answers to his question, Tim had finally come up with a game plan. As soon as he woke up in the morning, he placed a call to an agency, asking to be considered for fostering and he managed to get lucky with them having an opening for an interview that afternoon. With the interview secured, Tim then called Sergeant Grey and asked for a personal day which thankfully was approved which meant Tim could put his whole attention on impressing at his interview.

After walking Kojo, Tim got back home and found an email from the agency on his phone, with a list of things he needed to prepare for the interview. He let out a soft sigh as he read that he needed a letter of reference from his boss which meant he had to go to work to ask Grey for such a letter. He was hoping he would be able to prepare everything in the privacy of his own home but he figured he owed Grey a face-to-face conversation about why he needed a reference. After making sure Kojo was settled, Tim made his way out to his truck and made the drive to the station, silently glad he was going to arrive at the station after role call meaning most of the patrolling officers would already be gone, saving him from questioning from Lucy.

Arriving at the station, Tim entered the building, making his way back to Grey’s office and knocking on the door, waiting for Grey to wave him in.

“Bradford, I thought you were taking a personal day.” Grey muses, focused on the paperwork on his desk as Tim enters the room.

“I wasn’t planning on coming in. I just needed to ask you for something.” Tim says, standing before the desk, watching as Grey’s gaze shifts, looking up at Tim.

“What is that?” Grey asks, eyebrow raised as he sits back in his chair.

“I’m… well I am planning on trying to foster a kid and one of the things I need for my interview this afternoon is a reference from my boss and-”

“Fostering a kid? I must admit I wasn’t expecting that. If you need a reference then I’ll write one up for you. I’ll email you when it’s done.” Grey says with a nod, making Tim sigh lightly in relief, shoulders sagging slightly as he visibly relaxes.

“Thank you,” Tim says gratefully.

“It’s okay, Bradford,” Grey says warmly, smiling at Tim.

“If it’s not too much to ask, could this stay between us? If the fostering goes forward I don’t want her getting overwhelmed by people before she’s had a chance to settle in.” Tim requests, receiving a nod from Grey.

“This conversation will not leave this room. I promise.” Grey assures, his words filling Tim with confidence before he nods, thanking Grey one last time before heading out of the office and back out to his truck to head home.

Upon getting home, Kojo greeted Tim happily once he got home, acting as if Tim had been away for days. Tim then grabbed his laptop, opened it up and began to familiarise himself with what to expect from the interview while he waited for Grey to send the reference. Kojo hopped up alongside Tim and flopped alongside him on the sofa.

“Hey buddy, how do you feel about someone else living with us?” Tim asks the dog quietly, reaching out to pet him as Kojo’s tail thumps against the sofa, seemingly giving Tim the seal of approval. Tim reads through what to expect what feels like hundreds of times until he notes the time and realises he should go and visit you. After closing his laptop, Tim gathers the candy and books he bought you and puts them in a small gift bag before picking it up and heading back out to the truck to drive to the hospital. Tim had an easy journey to the hospital and made his way to your room with little issues. As he approached your room he noticed that the door was closed and worry began to grab at him, worrying that something had happened to you but thankfully as he stuck his head around the doorframe, he found you lying in bed, mindlessly scrolling through the tv channels in the naive hope of finding something worth watching. However, at the movement by the door, your eyes were drawn away from the tv and when you realised it was Tim you lit up, smiling as you lightly invited him in.

“Officer Bradford, what are you doing here?” You ask, turning the tv off before focusing your attention on Tim who shakes his head lightly at your choice of words when it comes to addressing him.

“Please, call me Tim. I thought I’d swing by to check on you and I also bought you some things to hopefully help this time in hospital a bit better.” Tim says, smiling softly as he approaches your bedside, offering the bag out towards you.

“Offic- Tim. You didn’t need to bring me anything.” You say, eyes flicking between the bag and Tim.

“I wanted to,” Tim says, taking a single step closer and holding the bag up towards you so you have no choice but to take it which you do after a brief silence. When you take the bag, you place it down in your lap, slowly extracting the items and taking a moment to appreciate every single thing he has gotten you.

“I’m sorry if this isn’t really your kind of stuff. I just googled things and hoped for the best.” Tim says, concerned by your silence and already trying to backtrack and explain himself.

“No, please don’t apologise. This is perfect. Thank you.” You say, looking up at Tim with a small smile and teary eyes, gratefulness obvious in every aspect of your expression.

“You’re welcome, y/n,” Tim says softly, moving to sit down on one of the chairs that sat alongside your bedside.

“How have you been? Feeling better?” Tim then asks, watching carefully as you nod, already ripping open one of the packets of candy.

“My side still hurts if I move too much but I’d take that pain over being dead.” You say with a slight shrug, offering the bag towards Tim and motioning for him to take one which he refuses at first but after a look from you, he concedes and takes one, thanking you quietly.

“No one’s tried to bother you while you’re here, have they?” Tim then asks, wanting to ensure everything is okay.

“I don’t think anyone knows or cares that I’m here.” You admit quietly, eyes flicking from Tim to the bed cover, picking at the corner of it to distract yourself.

“I spoke to one of my friends, she’s a detective and she’s agreed to help me open an investigation into the home you’re in. I’m going to follow along with it and make sure that something happens to that home.” Tim then says, letting you know about his plans to deal with things.

“I don’t know what to say.” You say quietly yet gratefully. Your whole life you’d been constantly let down by adults who were supposed to look out for you. Teachers looked the other way when you were bullied and Stan had never lifted a finger to help you at the children’s home. But now, Tim was doing everything he could to help you. Someone you had only met the day before was already putting in the effort to help you when no one else would.

“You don’t need to say anything, kid. I want to help you out however I can.” Tim says, his voice was soft and gentle as he smiles at you.

“You have no idea how much this all means to me.” You say, wiping at your eyes to conceal any possible tears from Tim.

“I’m just doing my job,” Tim says, shaking his head softly as you smile softly, your hand dropping back down to your lap. You and Tim then spend some time talking some more, and the more you talk, the more Tim knows he wants to foster you. He knew how it felt to constantly be let down by people you’re supposed to look up to so he wasn’t going to let himself be one of those people towards you. He wanted to make sure you knew you had at least one person on your side. After about half an hour of chatting with you, Tim noticed the time and realised he needed to head back to his to get ready for his interview with the foster agency.

“I’ve got to head out. If you need anything you have my number. Take care.” Tim says, getting up and excusing himself.

“Have a good day.” You say with a smile as Tim crosses to the door, making him smile back at you softly. He longed to tell you that he was putting himself forward to foster you but he also knew he didn’t want to get your hopes up, and then for everything to fall through. He wouldn’t be able to face you going back to a home after everything you had been through.

“I’ll see you around, kid,” Tim says softly before exiting your room, making his way out of the hospital so he can head home to prepare for the interview. When he got home, Tim showered and changed into some smarter clothes before rereading what to expect in his interview so he could be thoroughly prepared for any questions that could be thrown his way during the interview process as well as forwarding the reference Grey had written to the agency. As he finishes reading up the page, Tim puts his laptop away and makes his way out to his truck to begin the drive to the agency. The drive was silent, other than the rumble of the engine and the radio playing quietly. During the drive, Tim kept going over everything in his head to make sure he had solid, planned answers ready when he was questioned. When Tim finally arrived at the agency, he got out of his truck and made his way in, making sure to take one last deep breath before walking in and approaching the woman at the front desk.

“Hi, I’m Tim Bradford. I’m here for an interview about fostering.” Tim says once he reaches the desk, smiling at the woman as she nods and types something into the computer at her desk.

“Yep, you’re good to go and take a seat, Julia will be out shortly.” The woman says with a smile, gesturing towards the seats behind Tim as he nods, thanking her before heading over to a seat, sitting down in it and pulling his phone out of his pocket to pass the time until he’s called in for his interview.

“Tim Bradford?” A female voice draws Tim’s attention away from his phone and he looks up to see a woman with a soft smile who gestures him over.

“Hi.” Tim greets, smiling as he reaches out to shake the woman’s hand.

“Hello, Tim. I’m Julia. If you just follow me into my office we’ll get this interview started.” Julia says lightly, leading Tim back into her office. Entering the office, Julia takes a seat behind her desk while offering Tim a seat in front of the desk which he sits on, waiting for the interview to begin.

“So, Tim, what was it that made you want to start fostering?” Julia starts, pulling up the forms Tim had filled out on her computer, skimming them once more before focusing back on Tim.

“I got involved in a case at work where I helped out a kid and found out she was in a kid's home. I guess I wanted to be a positive adult figure in her life and fostering her would not only give her the support she needs, but it would get her out of that home.” Tim says, making sure he’s completely honest with Julia.

“It sounds like you already have someone in mind when it comes to fostering.” Julia muses softly, receiving a nod in return from Tim.

“Yeah, her name is y/n l/n. I found her injured yesterday at work and when I learnt the whole story I just knew that I couldn’t be another adult in her life who lets her down. She needs a stable and safe environment and I’d like to be the one who gives it to her.” Tim says, studying Julia’s reaction carefully, hoping he hasn’t tripped up so soon into the interview.

“That leads me nicely to my next topic. I’ve read your reference from your boss, Sergeant Grey. So, you’re in the LAPD. Do you think your job may have any effect on your ability to care for a child?” Julia then asks, looking from the computer to Tim who exhales softly, glancing down at his lap briefly before looking back up at Julia.

“I am very good at keeping my personal and work life separate. I only work overtime when truly necessary. I believe I’d be more than capable of looking after y/n.” Tim says, keeping his voice level and trying not to take her words as a personal attack. After about ten more minutes of questions and answers between the two of them, Julia leans back in her chair, looking over at Tim.

“Well, you have a steady income, glowing reference, and you seem very committed to the idea of fostering y/n so I can’t say you’re a bad candidate for fostering but I also cannot guarantee anything, you know how it is,” Julia says, smiling sympathetically at Tim as he nods, understanding that she was simply covering her bases. He knew that she wasn’t able to make promises in case things fell through, the same way he wasn’t allowed to promise victims that everything would be okay.

“I understand. But if there is any chance I can foster y/n, I’ll be there as soon as possible.” Tim says with a nod, hoping deep down that everything lined up perfectly and he’d get to foster you. As Julia got up from her desk, he conjured another plan in his head just moments before he stood up to shake her hand once more.

“It was lovely to meet you, Tim. We’ll be in contact with an update.” Julia says as she releases Tim’s hand, watching as he nods and thanks her before exiting her office, thanking the lady at the desk as he left, the second he left the building he dug his phone out of his pocket, finding Angela’s number and dialling it, lifting the phone to his ear as it began to ring.

“Who have you killed?” Angela jokes upon picking up the phone, making Tim roll his eyes.

“Hilarious. I just wanted to ask you something.” Tim says, beginning to walk over to his truck.

“Shoot,” Angela says, leaning back in her chair as she awaits Tim’s response.

“I was wondering if there’s any way Wesley might know how to help me get approved to foster a kid?” Tim says. Upon hearing Angela’s slight gasp, and the sound of her getting out of her chair to find some privacy, he began to wonder if it was worth asking her.

“Is this about that kid in the children’s home you were telling me about yesterday?” Angela asks in a hushed tone, clearly still making her way through the station.

“Yeah… but you can’t tell anyone. I just had my interview with an agency and while I know they can’t guarantee that I’ll get accepted as a foster carer, and they can’t guarantee I’ll get to foster y/n. I was just wondering if Wesley knows anyone who could help me out or something?” Tim tries, getting into his truck and settling behind the wheel while Angela ducks into the rec room.

“I can call Wesley to see what he can do. I’ll have him call you when he can.” Angela says, nodding despite knowing that Tim couldn’t see her.

“Thank you, Angela. I owe you one.” Tim says, a smile on his face.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Angela jokes before both she and Tim bid each other goodbye before hanging up the phone. Upon ending the conversation, Tim puts his phone away and begins to drive back to his house, fingers lightly drumming against the wheel to ease the anxiety that begins to build up over the length of the drive. When he finally makes it home, he enters his house, gets changed into something comfier and heads to the living room to sit down on the sofa and encourages Kojo to come and sit with him, letting out the softest sigh as Kojo settles down across his lap, the weight helping to ease Tim’s anxieties and helps him relax. After almost half an hour of mindlessly scrolling through various tv channels, Tim’s phone buzzes and he picks it up after seeing Wesley’s name pop up on the screen.

“Wesley.” Tim greets, his empty hand reaching out to pet Kojo as a means to distract himself.

“Hey, Tim. Angela told me about what you asked. I have a contact who may be able to pull some strings but ultimately I can’t guarantee anything.” Wesley says, greeting Tim before getting to business.

“I understand that,” Tim says, nodding lightly at Wesley’s words.

“Between you and me, I think you stand a good chance at getting approved to foster her with the home under investigation.” Wesley then admits while Tim perks up slightly.

“You think?” Tim asks.

“I do. My colleague may be able to get you approved early so you can foster y/n while taking any necessary courses or training just on account of it getting her out of the home during the investigation.” Wesley says, a smile on his face.

“Wesley, I don’t know how to thank you.” Tim breathes out, grateful for how his friends were willing to help him out.

“I’m sure I’ll sure I’ll think of some way for you to repay me,” Wesley says with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair as he hears Tim let out a soft laugh of his own.

“I don’t expect anything less,” Tim replies.

“I’ll talk to my colleague and see what she can do. I’ll be in contact.” Wesley then says, bidding Tim goodbye before they both hang up, leaving Tim to continue blindly scrolling through tv channels, his anxiety now easing a little. After ten minutes of more channel surfing, Tim decides to take Kojo on another walk, just to get out of the house and of course, Kojo was over the moon with the idea of a second walk.

The second walk was longer, and Tim made sure to go to Kojo’s favourite places and spend extra time in the park playing fetch. The walk helped to clear Tim’s head, helping him feel more at ease and more hopeful that with Angela and Wesley’s help, things would work out in his favour. On his way back home, content that Kojo had been sufficiently exercised, Tim’s phone began to ring once more and upon seeing a number he didn’t recognise, he picked up.

“Hello?” Tim answers, taking in the scenery as Kojo sniffs around a tree.

“Hi, is this Tim Bradford?” A male voice on the other end of the phone asks, making Tim raise an eyebrow.

“Yes, it is.” He replies, beginning towards a nearby bench and sitting down on it while Kojo sits at his feet.

“I’m Frank. I’m the head of the local fostering agencies and I’m aware you had an interview with Julia earlier this afternoon. Is that correct?” The man introduces himself as Tim nods lightly.

“I did yes. Is everything okay?” Tim says, and he swears in that brief silence between him speaking and Frank replying, he could feel his throat get tighter, fearing the response he might get.

“So, normally we wouldn’t do something like this but we’ve been made aware of an investigation that’s beginning to happen on the children’s home y/n is in and since you were such a strong and committed candidate, we’ve decided to allow you to foster y/n,” Frank says, and Tim felt the ten-ton weight lift off his shoulders at his words.

“Really?” Tim asks, part of him wondering if this was some elaborate trick.

“Really. Of course, we request that you complete some training but we will allow you to look after y/n to keep her away from the ongoing investigation but I imagine detectives would want to get statements from her if needed.” Frank explains, making Tim nod as he takes in every word.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” Tim promises, already sitting up straighter on the bench.

“That’s what we like to hear. All we need from you right now is for you to come back to the agency and fill out some paperwork for us. We contacted the hospital and they’ve let us know that y/n is cleared to be released from the hospital’s care tomorrow so you have today to prepare for y/n’s arrival. Is that okay?” Frank then says as Tim begins to stand up, walking with Kojo towards his house.

“That’s fine. Thank you.” Tim says, a small smile on his face.

“Good. You’ll also meet y/n’s case worker, Kiara while you’re there. She’ll be there to help you and y/n through this whole process.” Frank then says, giving Tim the last bit of information he needed.

“Thank you so much for all this,” Tim says gratefully, bidding Frank goodbye and hanging up the phone before hurrying back home. The second he gets home, Tim gets Kojo in the house, before heading to his truck and driving back to the agency.

When Tim reaches the agency, he’s greeted by the same woman at the front desk who points him to Julia’s office, telling him they’re waiting for him. So Tim does as he’s told, heading to the office he had been in mere hours before, knocking on the door lightly and entering upon being called in.

“Tim, just the man we were talking about,” Julia says with a smile, gesturing Tim in when she sees him. Tim enters the office, noticing the second woman who he could only assume was Kiara as he sat down on the spare chair that was offered to him.

“I’m Kiara, y/n’s case worker. It’s lovely to meet you.” The second woman confirms Tim’s thoughts as she offers a hand to him and he’s quick to shake her hand in response.

“I’m Tim. But I’m sure you already knew that.” Tim says with a soft chuckle as he settles down in the chair.

“As you know, you’ve got some paperwork to go through with you so let’s get on with that first,” Julia says, pulling paperwork out of one of her files and handing them over to Tim with a clipboard so he can read them over and sign where appropriate once they’ve talked things over. As Tim reads the paperwork over, Julia and Kiara talk him through various parts of everything, making sure he’s clear on everything being your foster parent entails, as well as being told that Kiara was going to swing by his house to do a quick check to make sure he lived in a suitable environment for you. After signing everything and being thoroughly briefed on all the ins and outs of being a foster parent, Tim was finally given the okay to leave the office and he left with Kiara walking alongside him.

“I’ll just follow behind you if that’s okay?” She asks as they exit the building, watching as Tim nods, digging his keys out of his pocket before heading over to his truck while Kiara heads over to her Mini. The drive back to his house had Tim’s anxiety digging in once more as he thought of all the worst-case scenarios that ran through his head. He knew he had no reason for Kiara to not approve him and his house as a suitable place for you to live but he could not help but think of how things could go wrong. Would Kojo throw her off? Would the fact he carries an off-duty weapon be a problem? He tried so hard to focus on the positives but by the time both he and Kiara had parked outside his house, he had convinced himself that everything was going to crash and burn. Tim unlocked his front door and stepped in, causing Kojo to come trotting over to him happily.

“Kojo, sit,” Tim commands, pointing at Kojo who obeys Tim’s command, head tilted slightly as Kiara enters behind Tim.

“You have a dog? Can I say hi?” Kiara asks with a soft smile as Tim nods.

“Kojo, come here boy,” Tim says and Kojo immediately got up and approached the two, sniffing Kiara’s outstretched hand and panting happily as she began to pet him.

“He’s lovely.” Kiara praises.

“He looks tough but he’s a big softie,” Tim admits with a gentle laugh, watching as Kojo flops onto his side for more attention.

“Well, you’re off to a good start with how well-trained Kojo is,” Kiara says as she straightens up, beginning to make her way around the house looking at everything in and around each room while Kojo follows behind her happily. Tim can’t bring himself to follow her at first, feeling rooted in place with how out of control he is in this whole scenario. After a deep breath, Tim then follows after Kiara, listening carefully to all her comments about his house.

“I know you’re a police officer so I have to ask, do you have any firearms in your house?” Kiara asks, no malice in her tone but Tim knew he wouldn’t benefit from lying.

“Yes, I carry an off-duty piece. But I lock it away when I’m not using it and I’d never encourage y/n to use it or even be near it.” Tim explains, leading Kiara to the safe he has hidden away in his bedroom and showing her the handgun he has. As he locks it back away, Tim looks over at Kiara to try and gauge her reaction but Kiara appears to be the best when it comes to having a neutral expression. By the time Kiara had done a full tour of the house, Tim had somehow convinced himself that he’d screwed the whole thing up. As he walked Kiara to the front door, she turned to face him and smiled softly.

“Your house is perfect. y/n will have a great home here.” Kiara says as Tim tries not to let his jaw drop in shock.

“Thank you so much.” He says, feeling like he’s thanked people enough for a lifetime in one day but he had to let people know how grateful he was for their help throughout this whole process. After Kiara leaves, Tim turns his attention to his phone, aware of the text he had received while he was showing Kiara around the house. He found a text from Wesley, saying he had contacted his colleague so Tim replied saying that Wesley’s colleague had helped out a lot and so he thanked Wesley and asked him to pass Tim’s thanks on to his colleague. By the time night fell Tim was lying in his bed wrestling with his conflicting emotions. He was filled with both excitement and anxiety knowing that in a mere few hours, he’d be picking you up from the hospital and officially become your foster parent.

By the morning, Tim was sure he’d only gotten a couple of hours of sleep and that Kojo was fed up with how much he’d been tossing and turning throughout the night. Tim got out of bed after Kojo all but nudged him up, showered and changed before taking Kojo on a morning walk to stretch his legs. Tim had organised a time to meet with Kiara at the hospital to pick you up after informing Grey that he needed another personal day, thankfully Grey was understanding and gave him the rest of the week off so he could help you settle into your new home and routine. So Tim wanted to spend his morning setting up your room and ensuring the house felt as homely as possible ready for your arrival with the time he had.

Once Tim had organised your room, doing the best he could with what he had, he noted the time and realised he needed to begin heading over to the hospital. So he grabbed a jacket and made his way to the front door, stopping to talk to Kojo when he noticed him lying on the floor in the hall.

“Be good, Kojo. I’ll be back soon.” Tim says, petting Kojo on the head as he grabs his keys and makes his way to the front door, heading outside and getting into his truck to drive over to the hospital. Upon arriving at the hospital, Tim met with Kiara in the waiting room of the ward you were in.

“Hello, Tim.” She greets Tim with a smile, approaching him as he meets her halfway.

“Hi,” Tim replies, noticing the bag in Kiara’s hand.

“I went by to collect y/n’s things, she’s getting changed now. A nurse will grab us when she’s ready.” Kiara explains, not missing how Tim had been looking at the bag. At her explanation, Tim nods.

“Does she know I’m fostering her?” Tim then asks, already worrying about your hypothetical reaction to the news.

“I haven’t told her yet. I figured you could be the one to tell her.” Kiara says. As if cued, a nurse enters the waiting room and approaches the two.

“y/n is ready.” The nurse says with a gentle smile, gesturing for them to follow her which they do, heading into the room Tim had become very familiar with.

“Hi Kiara, I’m ready t-” You said, back facing them as you begrudgingly turned around, cutting yourself off when you realised Tim was also present.

“Hey, kid,” Tim says softly, smiling as you mirror his smile with one of your own.

“What’s going on?” You ask, glancing between Tim and Kiara who in turn exchange a look between themselves.

“We have some exciting news.” Kiara starts, both her and Tim watching as your eyebrows furrow in thought.

“I have decided to foster you. If that’s okay with you, of course.” Tim says, watching your reaction carefully, seeing how your eyebrows furrow further before you process his words and your jaw drops in shock, tears filling your eyes.

“Really?” You ask, looking up at Tim who nods lightly at your question.

“If that’s something you want,” Tim affirms and you fall quiet for a brief second, taking a deep breath before speaking up once more.

“Can I hug you?” You ask quietly.

“Of course, come here,” Tim says, extending an arm towards you and you were quick to accept the embrace, winding your arms around his middle and hugging Tim tight. Tim felt your shuddered breaths as you hugged him, making him hold you a little closer.

“Thank you.” You whisper softly, your voice thick with unshed tears.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Tim replies in a hushed tone, squeezing you tighter before releasing you from the hug, allowing you to step back.

“Well with that good news out in the open. Are you ready to get out of here?” Kiara asks, watching as you wipe your eyes with a nod, smiling wider than Kiara has ever seen from you before.

“More than ready.” You say as Kiara hands the bag of your belongings to Tim and gestures for you and Tim to follow her once the nurse has gone over some final healthcare things with you and Tim.

“I went and collected all your stuff from the home so you should have everything. Now all that’s left for you to do is head home with Tim. I will swing by every so often just to check up on you both but I’ll let you have a few days to settle in.” Kiara explains as you make your way through the hospital, heading towards the car park.

“That sounds like a plan. Thank you for everything, Kiara.” Tim says, stopping in front of his truck with you and Kiara mimicking his action.

“It’s been a pleasure. Take care, y/n.” Kiara says, giving you a quick hug in goodbye before making her way back to her own car, leaving you and Tim alone.

“Here, hop in,” Tim says, opening the passenger side door and waiting patiently for you to ease yourself into the truck. Once you’re sat down, Tim closes the door and loads your bag into the back seats, rounding the truck and getting behind the wheel. On the drive back to Tim’s house you maintained some small talk as you watched the world passing you by. You were seeing areas of Los Angeles that you had never seen before and before too long had passed, Tim was parking on the drive to your new home.

“I have a quick question before we head in. Are you okay with dogs?” Tim asks after shutting the engine off, turning in his seat to face you.

“I’ve never really been around any dogs. The only ones around the children’s home were people’s guard dogs so they weren’t very friendly.” You explain shyly, fiddling with your fingers as you think of the dogs that would snarl and bark at you every time you dared walk past their house.

“I promise, Kojo is as gentle as they come. He’s all bark no bite. Tell you what, I’ll head in first, put Kojo in my room so he’s out of the way while you settle in. When you’re ready we can handle introductions. Does that sound good?” Tim says, explaining the plan he had formulated in his head and you nod.

“Okay, that sounds fine.” You say quietly, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the truck while Tim does the same. You wait patiently for Tim to grab your bag before following him to the front door.

“You stay out here for a minute while I sort out Kojo, I’ll let you know when to come in,” Tim says as he unlocks the front door and you nod, sure you could hear the tapping of claws on the other side of the door. Tim opens the door enough to squeeze through the gap and closes the door behind him, smiling as Kojo approaches, sniffing at his legs curiously.

“Sorry about this buddy, it’s just for a few minutes.” Tim apologises to his dog, gently taking hold of Kojo’s collar and leading him towards his bedroom, opening the door and encouraging Kojo inside, closing the door before he can turn around and rush back out. With Kojo securely tucked away in one room, Tim makes his way back to the front door, opening it and smiling at you.

“Come on in.” He says, picking up your bag and gesturing for you to follow him into the house.

“Wow, this is gorgeous.” You say, awestruck by the house and everything in it.

“It’s not much,” Tim says with a light shrug, making you laugh lightly.

“Here’s better than the home I’ve grown up in.” You say truthfully, making Tim nod lightly as he stops outside your room.

“This is your room. I’m sorry it’s a bit bare but you’re free to decorate it how you want.” Tim says as he opens the door, stepping back to let you take in your new room. You couldn’t stop the tears from welling in your eyes at the sight of the room. Tim wasn’t lying, the room didn’t have much in the way of decorations, and the bedding and walls were all plain white but the idea of getting to make the room your own safe space made you emotional in ways you couldn’t describe.

“This is amazing. I can’t thank you enough Tim.” You say gratefully, taking the bag from Tim’s hand and heading into your room. You place your bag on the end of your bed and take in the beauty of your room. After exploring your room, you then head back out into the rest of the house, pausing when you hear the light scratching of claws against wood.

“Sorry, he’s used to having run of the house.” Tim apologises, noticing how you had paused in place, looking in the direction of Tim’s bedroom.

“No, I’m sorry. I feel bad he’s been locked away just because I’m not used to dogs.” You apologise, feeling bad for Kojo.

“He’ll live, trust me,” Tim says softly.

“Can I meet him? I’ll feel bad keeping him locked away any longer.” You ask, looking up at Tim who nods lightly.

“Only if you’re sure,” Tim asks, watching as you nod.

“I’m sure.” You confirm, making Tim look towards the door.

“You go and settle in the living room. I’ll bring Kojo through.” Tim says, watching you head towards the living room before he opens his bedroom door, immediately catching Kojo by the collar as he attempts to escape the bedroom.

“Whoa there. You need to be a bit calmer.” Tim lightly scolds his dog, carefully leading him to the living room where you are waiting. Tim enters the living room slowly, keeping a firm hand on Kojo to keep him under control.

“y/n, this is Kojo. Kojo, this is y/n.” Tim says, introducing you to Kojo and vice versa.

“Hi, Kojo. You’re really cute.” You say softly, reaching a careful hand out towards him, letting him sniff at your hand from a distance. After Kojo had sniffed at your hand, Tim slowly relinquished his hold on Kojo’s collar, allowing him to step closer to you. Kojo continues to sniff at you, gently licking at one of your hands while your other begins to pet him, bringing a smile to your face.

“I think he likes you,” Tim says, smiling at the interaction between you and Kojo.

“He’s so sweet.” You say quietly, scratching Kojo behind the ear as he pants happily, as he sits down in between your legs. After a few minutes of hanging out with Kojo, Tim decides to offer to help you unpack and settle in and you take him up on his offer, heading back to your room, this time with Kojo accompanying you. You go through your bag, chatting with Tim as you unpack everything. As Tim was putting a jacket of yours away in the wardrobe, he caught sight of you digging through your bag, a panicked expression on your face.

“Are you okay, kid?” Tim asks, turning to face you.

“I can’t find something.” You reply, barely giving Tim any attention as you continue to turf things out of your bag, tears welling in your eyes when you empty the rest of your bag and realise that one precious item is missing.

“What is it?” Tim asks, picking his way through the clothes you’d thrown across your bed to see if what you were looking for had somehow gotten lost in the middle of your t-shirts.

“I… I had a stuffed animal. A small sheep. I’ve had him since I was little and a friend I had gave him to me when she got reunited with her parents. Kiara wouldn’t have known I had him because I hid him in my room so the other kids wouldn’t find him.” You explain, panicked as tears well in your eyes.

“Hey, don’t panic. Tell me where you hid him and I’ll go and get him.” Tim says, gently taking you by the shoulders, and helping you maintain control over your panicked breaths.

“You’d do that?” You ask quietly and your voice thick with tears.

“Of course, I would. If this sheep is important to you I’ll go find him and bring him back here.” Tim says softly, hating the heartbroken and terrified look in your eyes. He could tell this stuffed animal meant the world to you and he was going to get it back for you.

“Thank you.” You whisper, smiling at Tim while wiping at your eyes.

“No problem, kid. Now, tell me where you hid him and I’ll get him back.” Tim says, waiting patiently for you to tell him where you had hidden the teddy. Once you’ve told Tim exactly where you’d hidden it, Tim tells you to stay with Kojo, making his way to his room, grabbing his off-duty piece just in case Stan tried to give him any grief, before making his way out to his truck and driving over to the children’s home. When he pulled up outside the home, he barely had time to pull his keys out of the engine with the speed he was getting out of the truck. He marched up to the front door and pounded on it, waiting for Stan to open the door.

“What do you want? You’ve caused enough trouble around here.” Stan snarls as he opens the door, recognising Tim instantly.

“I’m just here to pick up something that Kiara didn’t pick up when she was getting y/n’s stuff,” Tim says, holding his hands up slightly to show he wasn’t here to pick a fight.

“You’ve gone and put this home under investigation. I could lose my job and it’s all your fucking fault! I should teach you a lesson.” Stan swears angrily, stepping closer to Tim in an attempt to intimidate him.

“Try anything and I’ll have you locked away so fast you’ll never get to see this home close down,” Tim growls in response, his low tone and narrowed eyes enough to get Stan to step back, all attempt at intimidation now thrown out the window as he allows Tim to push past, heading upstairs to the room you had said was yours. He opened the door, heading straight for where you had said you’d hidden the sheep teddy. Thankfully, Tim had very little trouble finding the sheep.

“Let’s get you reunited with y/n,” Tim whispers to the small plush sheep before tucking it away in his hoodie pocket, making his way downstairs, making sure to shoot a warning glare Stan’s way to keep him away before heading to his truck and making the drive back home. When Tim arrived home, he found you curled up on the sofa with Kojo curled against your side.

“Did you find him?” You ask, perking up when you notice Tim’s arrival. Tim nodded with a smile, pulling the sheep out of his pocket and handing it over to you as you took it gratefully, holding it close to your chest as you let out a soft sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much, Tim.” You say gratefully, smiling over at him which he returns.

“You’re welcome y/n,” Tim replies, moving to sit alongside you and Kojo. You spend the rest of the day lounging on the sofa with Tim, getting to know each other more. After having a takeaway for dinner, you stand up and stretch, glancing over at Tim.

“Can I use the shower?” You ask, studying Tim’s reaction carefully.

“Of course, you can. You don’t need to ask.” Tim says softly, watching as you nod slightly, heading for your room to get ready for your shower before disappearing into the bathroom.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Tim caught sight of you padding across the hall, shivering violently as you tugged your hoodie over your pyjama shirt.

“Woah, are you okay? Are you coming down with something?” Tim asks, already jumping to the worst-case scenario at how violently you were shivering.

“No, I’m fine. I just didn’t realise how cold your shower could get.” You say with a shrug as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“I should’ve shown you how it works, I’m sorry.” Tim apologises, silently scolding himself for failing to show you how the shower worked.

“No, it’s fine. I know I’m not supposed to use the hot water anyway.” You say with a small smile, making Tim’s head tilt slightly in confusion.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tim asks, wanting to know why you had assumed such a thing.

“Stan always said that us kids weren’t supposed to use hot water.” You shrug, rubbing your hands up and down your arms to try and warm yourself up more.

“Okay, that rule doesn’t fly in here. You want a hot shower? You take a hot shower. You don’t have to worry about whether you’re allowed to use hot water because you will always be allowed to use it.” Tim explains, watching your reaction carefully, seeing how your head dipped, nodding shyly at his words.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry.” You apologise, making Tim feel like his heart is cracking in two.

“You have nothing to apologise for. It’s not your fault Stan is an asshole.” Tim says, resting a hand on one of your shoulders, smiling supportively at you as you lift your head to meet his gaze, shyly smiling in response as you nod lightly before a yawn spills past your lips.

“Sounds like you should get to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, y/n.” Tim says softly, releasing the light grip he had on your shoulder and watching as you head into your room with Kojo hot on your heels before making his rounds, ensuring all the doors were locked and the lights were off before retiring to bed himself.

Almost two hours after you had gone to bed you found yourself unable to sleep. You kept tossing and turning, finding the bed much too comfortable compared to what you were accustomed to. After Kojo let out a huff after what felt like your thousandth shuffle in bed you finally got up, grabbing your sheep teddy and a blanket before making your way to the living room with Kojo following behind once more.

Tim stirred at the sound of footsteps throughout the house and sat bolt upright, listening carefully to try and identify whether the footsteps belonged to you or an intruder. After a minute of listening, Tim identified the sound of Kojo’s claws tapping across the floor and felt himself relaxing, knowing it had to be you moving around with how Kojo wasn’t barking. After the house fell silent again, Tim decided to get up to check on you, worried about how he hadn’t heard you heading back to your room and he soon tracked you down, finding you lying down on the sofa, covering yourself with the blanket and using one of the cushions as a pillow with the small lamp on nearby.

“Are you okay, kid?” Tim’s voice made you jump at first, but you soon settled down when you realised it was only Tim, and Kojo settled down, his head resting on your stomach.

“Sorry the bed was ju-”

“It was too comfortable, wasn’t it?” Tim says softly, cutting you off as he crosses to sit down on the edge of the sofa.

“How did you know?” You ask, bewildered that Tim had figured it out so quickly.

“I served in the Army and did a few tours. Coming home after each one was the hardest adjustment period. And somehow the bed being too comfortable was the worst one. So trust me, I get it.” Tim says, letting you know that he understood and that he wouldn’t judge you.

“I’m just too used to the rock-solid mattresses at the home.” You say with a shrug, reaching out to pet Kojo after he noses at your hand for attention.

“If sleeping on the sofa makes you more comfortable for now. Then you can sleep on the sofa. Do what makes you feel most comfortable right now.” Tim assures you quietly, seeing how the gentle reassurance has made you feel more at ease.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, smiling at Tim as he nods.

“You’re welcome, y/n. I’m going to head back to bed but come and get me if you need anything. I’m sure Kojo will look after you.” Tim says, petting Kojo lightly before getting up, bidding you goodnight and exiting the living room to head back to his own room for the night. After Tim left, you turned the lamp off and laid back against the sofa, hand still stroking Kojo gently as you allowed your eyes to close. You had finally found a home, and it made you feel the safest you have ever felt in your whole life. And that was all thanks to Tim.

[ilwonuu]

"die 4 you" was so good!! (as well as ur other fics ofc) 💞 if youre going to make a part 3 / a finale please make it a happy ending!!!

omg thank you so much😭😭 ily<3 as wanted hehehe here is a part three with a happy ending. i love hannie so bad thank u all for supporting me while writing this!!!

𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍

⇝ 𝗒𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗃𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝖺𝗇

read part one & two first<3

❤︎︎ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀- 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌， 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅！𝗃𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆！𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

❤︎︎ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌- 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍， 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗈𝗅𝗂𝖾， 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀， 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉<𝟥， 𝗃𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌， 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗑 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺？？？ ， 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝖺𝖽， 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌， 𝗅𝗆𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾<𝟥

❤︎︎ 𝖺／𝗇- 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾，，， 𝖽𝗐𝗐 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗁𝖾𝗁𝖾 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 （𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗋𝗋𝗒<𝟥）

jeonghan was more hurt than your ever thought he would be. you leaving him to be with his best friend? he was so sad. but how could he blame you? he was such a terrible guy towards you these last couple weeks. he drove to your house immediately. he waited for you as long as he needed to until you got home.

he sat in his car waiting for you to pull up with cheol. he can’t even stop for a moment without thinking about you. he can’t hide from his feelings anymore because all it does is eat him alive. he hasn’t told you but being in the situationship was killing him as much as it was hurting you. he was just too good at hiding it.

he was brought out of his thoughts when he seen cheol’s car pull into your driveway. you waved to the boy, thanking him for the ride. he was quick to get out of his car. running to your front door as you opened it.

“jeonghan??? what are you doing here?” you were startled by the other boys appearance.

“please can we talk? i’ve been waiting here for an hour for you.” you look at him a little bit more. he looks like he’s been crying. you slowly nodded at him as he came inside with you.

“first- did you and cheol um- fuck or anything?” the thought was eating him alive. he couldn’t even handle the two of you kissing.

“no jeonghan- i just kissed him to make you jealous. he just took me to get some food. he was comforting me.” he nods slowly as you two sit on your couch.

“so you don’t like him?” his eyes look teary.

“jeonghan- no! i’m in love with you. i don’t even understand why we’re having this conversation- you’re just gonna reject me i know! go home.” you try to get up but jeonghan grabs your hand.

“please don’t walk away. just listen to me.” you sit back down with a sigh. you were really not in the mood for him to tell you he just wants sex.

“i’m so sorry for everything. i thought that if i buried all of my feelings for you i could just forget. i don’t want to bury them anymore. i can’t even- i can’t go a single minute without thinking of you. i want to hold you and kiss you. i don’t want anyone else. how could i? you’re the most perfect girl in the entire world.” he grabs your hands.

“i’m so in love with you. i’m sorry i did all of this when i could’ve just had you the second you told me about your feelings. i’m so fucking stupid. you’re all i need. i know- it might take awhile for you to even begin to forgive me for how i’ve treated you. i want to be your boyfriend- if you still want that of course.” tears were now in your eyes. you let go of his hands to cry in your own hands. you were sobbing. he pulled you into his arms to comfort you.

“i’m so sorry- i don’t want to make you cry. never. i-i love you.” you wrapped your arms around jeonghan with tears still streaming down your eyes.

“i l-love you too- god i hate you.” you laughed a little as you wiped your tears. he smiles at you as he helped you wipe the tears.

“you’re so beautiful- i’m so in love.” you look away from him with a blush.

“shut up. i’m still mad at you- and tired. i’m so tired.” he nods before letting go of you.

“i just wanted to talk to you tonight or i would of died of overthinking.” he stood up before leaving a kiss on your head.

“where are you going?” you asked him as you saw him gathering his keys.

“angel you said you were upset still and tired- i’m gonna go home. i don’t want to overwhelm you.” you shook your head.

“okay of course i’m a little upset. but i want you to stay. please? sleep with me.” he stops in his tracks.

“are you sure?” you nod standing up with him. he nods as he takes his shoes off.

“let’s go to sleep.” you lead him to your room as you quickly change in to comfortable clothes.

“i still have some of your clothes in my closet for you.” he thanks your before changing aswell. you practically jump into your bed. jeonghan trailing behind you and he climbs in next to you. you turn to look at him and he’s already staring right back at you.

“tired hannie?” he nods at you as he sighs. he pulls you to cuddle him.

“i love you. let’s sleep.” you get comfortable in his arms as you murmur i love you. you quickly falling asleep to his slow back rubs.

the next morning was one of the best mornings you had. you woke up to jeonghan’s peaceful snoring. he was so cute. you left a soft kiss on his head. you didn’t want to wake him. you stare at him for awhile waiting for him to get up. you were still making up your mind for what he asked you.

did you want him to be your boyfriend? of course you did but it’s only normal to feel a little nervous. but you trust jeonghan. you don’t know why but you do. last night he seemed genuine and you know he wouldn’t say something like that if he didn’t mean it.

you tried to go back to sleep but you just got lost in your thoughts. you were so deep in your thoughts you didn’t realize jeonghan had woken up and he’s looking at you.

“angel? what are you thinking about?” you looked at him and shook your head.

“i don’t even know. just a bunch of things.” he nods. he pulls you back to him with a smile.

“hannie- i want you to be my boyfriend.” he leans up to look down at you.

“are you sure? you don’t have to decide so soon.” you shake your head.

“you’re all i want. please be my boyfriend. but i will never speak to you again if you hurt me.” you say the last part with a teasing tone but you mean every word. he nods and leans down to kiss you.

“i won’t even begin to think about hurting you ever again. i love you angel.” you blush at the nickname.

you peck his lips again. you quickly turn the kiss more desperate and he just smirks into the kiss.

“you’re needy this early?” you nod as you hide your face in his chest. jeonghan had discarded his shirt in the middle of the night. his bare chest had your head spinning.

“you look so pretty hannie-“ he cuts you off with a kiss as he starts to massage your waist. you moan into the kiss as he sloppily kisses you. he pulls away to peck your neck a couple times. before pulling away from you.

“don’t you think i should tease you just how you did me?” you shake your head.

“you deserved it!” he smiles at you and nods.

“yea- but i’m hungry. let’s eat first yea angel?” you pout at him before he lifts you out of bed.

“you’re so mean! i hate you.” you try to squirm out of his hold.

“i love you even more.” he puts you down and kisses you again.

“you’re lucky you’re cute.” he just smirks at you.

“lets go make food angel and then i’ll give you anything you want okay?” you roll your eyes at him before pulling him to the kitchen. you know he can’t see your face. but if he did he would see the huge smile on your face.

you finally have him the way you want him. you are so in love with yoon jeonghan.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 6

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. Prostitution shown briefly, light fondling, passionate kissing.

Word Count: 3,343

A/N: Here's Ch. 6. I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Dean felt the woman wriggle on his lap, bouncing lightly as she clapped her hands and giggled over his good fortune at the card table. He noticed the none-too-subtle view of her heavily perfumed cleavage as she thrust it prominently forward.

He had been winning all evening, and this pretty little blonde had latched herself onto him pretty early. She was one of many ladies of the evening that worked at Gladwell's Gaming Hall. She was new though, he'd spent many evenings here at Gladwell's, and he'd never seen her before. Her name was Sylvie. Or maybe it was Sadie. It was very loud in the hall. Either way, she'd do.

He won his last hand of poker and told the dealer, Frank, to have his winnings converted to cash and to have it ready for him tomorrow morning.

"Take the price of a room off my winnings, would you?" He asked, tossing Frank a twenty dollar chip as a tip for his trouble. "I'll be taking my usual, room 210."

"Of course, Mr. Winchester." Frank said, nodding in thanks at the generous tip.

Dean pulled the little blonde behind him as he went to the front counter to get his usual room key.

Once in the room, he closed the door behind them and pressed her up against it, crushing her lips with his own. She responded eagerly, pulling at his dinner jacket, and working it off his shoulders. She loosened the tie around his neck and pulled it easily over his head. He watched her undo his buttons slowly and then open his shirt, licking her way down his body.

As she got down on her knees in front of him, he found himself thinking again how very bored he was. She unbuttoned his pants, but he grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. He kissed her again and laid her down on the bed. He pulled down the bodice of her gown and undid the laces of her corset enough that he could pull her breasts free of the contraption.

Y/N didn't wear a corset.

Dean pushed the unwanted thought out of his mind, concentrating on the beautiful woman in front of him.

Her breasts were large and pale, with greenish-blue veins just visible through her nearly translucent skin. She was beautiful. As he took her breast in his mouth, she moaned and he watched her for a moment. Her pale skin was flushed with desire and her eyes were closed. Her blonde curls had come loose from the pins that held them and surrounded her like a cloud of silk.

There was no doubt, this girl was ravishing. He simply wasn't interested in being the one to ravish her. 

He sighed deeply as he rose from the bed and walked over to his dresser to splash a shot of bourbon into a tumbler. He heard the girl (Sadie?) sashay up behind him to wrap her arms around his waist, pressing her ample curves into his back.

"What's wrong, handsome? Need a little help?" She ran both hands across his abdomen before dipping them into his unbuttoned waistband. Dean let her fondle him a minute, hoping something would spark enough interest in him to make his evening end the way he'd wanted it to. But while his body responded predictably, his mind was unmoved.

Finally, he pulled her hands off of him and moved over to where his jacket lay on the floor. He grabbed his bill fold out of his inner pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. He pulled the woman's corset together and laced her up, before pulling her bodice back up.

He put the cash into her hand and she pouted at him. "This is way too much. We didn't even do anything."

He gave her pretty, pouty lips a swift kiss. "Exactly, sweetheart, sorry I wasted your time." She opened her mouth to argue, but he just shook his head. "Another time, maybe."

He hustled her to the door before giving her a pat on the behind and pushing her out into the hallway. He locked the door behind her and plunked his forehead against it. As he heard her retreat down the hall, he banged his head against the door two more times.

The thumping did nothing to dislodge the vision that swam into his mind's eye, the vision that was always waiting there to float up, unbidden.

Y/N’s wide, sparkling eyes, filled with passion, looked up at him. Her soft skin glowed golden in the candlelight, her full, kissable lips were parted, her breath coming fast and hard. Her voice whispered his name into his ear and his body was instantly hard. 

God, he couldn't go on like this. It was pathetic, he was pathetic. He had tried nearly a dozen times over the last two months to forget her image in the arms of other women. He had not succeeded.

Y/N stayed with him no matter where he went.

When he was working, he would get sudden flashes of her cheeky grin that would make him completely lose focus. If he went to a ball, or a formal dinner he couldn't help thinking how much more entertaining it would be if she was there to laugh with him. He would dance with countless beautiful women and wish that every single one of them were her.

It was simply too much.

He went back to the bourbon and did his best to drink the images out of his head.

At his solitary breakfast the next morning, he was nursing a raging hangover and trying to decide if eating the eggs in front of him would make him feel better or worse. As he sipped his coffee, his butler, Grant, brought in the morning mail. Dean sifted through the usual bills and invitations before coming upon an envelope that bore his brother's handwriting. He opened it and nearly let out a whoop of excitement as he read it.

They were coming to visit. Sam had a conference he would be attending and it worked out well as they would be able to spend Christmas in the city. If they were staying over Christmas that meant they were definitely bringing Lucy with them.

And if she was coming, so was her governess.

***

Three days later he stood on the steps of his brownstone as a rented hack pulled to a stop at the end of his sidewalk. Sam exited first and helped Jessica down out of the carriage. Lucy bounded out after them and Dean realized he was holding his breath. Then the carriage rolled away and he realized it was just the three of them.

He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He tried to hide his disappointment and gave his brother and sister-in-law a hug before scooping Lucy up in a bear hug. He knew he'd failed however, when Sam pulled him aside as Grant and two maids took the luggage from them.

"Y/N is still at the train station. They've misplaced her bags. The carriage driver has instructions to go back and wait for her. She should be here soon."

Dean tried to look nonchalant and hide his overflowing relief. "That must be frustrating for her; I hope they can find her things."

Sam gave him a deadpan stare that let Dean know his brother didn't believe his nonchalance for a minute.

They all bustled into the house and out of the snow that had begun to fall. Dean showed them to their room personally. The guest room they were staying in had a smaller room that adjoined it where Lucy could sleep. It had originally been intended to serve a lady and her maid, but it would suit their needs nicely.

"This is wonderful, Dean." Jessica said, smiling. "Do you have a room for Y/N? Just for tonight. I'd like to give her these two weeks as a kind of vacation. She's never been to New York and I'd like her to have the chance to see it. I'll need her to watch Lucy sometimes, but mostly, I'd like to take Lucy around with me. I'd like to put Y/N up in a hotel, and I wondered if you could find a reputable one for her. You know the city so much better than we do."

Dean wanted to say that Y/N could stay in his bedroom and in his bed for the two weeks, but he knew that wouldn't fly. "I'm sure we can find space for her upstairs tonight; there are a couple of empty servants' rooms. I'll find a beautiful hotel room for her beginning tomorrow night."

"Wonderful." Jessica said, smiling. Dean thought he caught a look pass between Jessica and Sam, but it was too quick to decipher.

Dean left to let them get settled. He went to his study to try and get some work done. He was not successful. He just kept listening for the sound of a carriage pulling up outside.

Finally he heard the unmistakable sound of snow crunching and bridles jingling. The carriage was back.

He tried to walk calmly to the door, but he was practically running and he chastised himself for acting like a sixteen year old debutante meeting her beau.

Pathetic.

***

"What exactly is going on beneath those beautiful blonde curls?" Sam asked. "I don't recall you saying anything about a vacation for Y/N until now. Where is this coming from?" His arms were crossed and he stood in front of his wife, blocking her from reaching the wardrobe where she was hanging their clothes as she unpacked them.

Jessica wore her most innocent look, big blue eyes wide and warm. "I don't know what you're talking about." She said, pushing past him, and hanging up his formal dinner jacket.

Sam continued to stare at her, disbelieving.

She gave a little huff. "Look, we both agreed that Y/N has been miserable these last two months. She barely says two words outside of her time with Lucy. She needs to get him out of her system."

"You mean Dean?"

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Yes, Dean. Who else would I be talking about? She needs to spend time with him so she can understand how inappropriate he is for her. She needs to see that he is a terrible choice. As long as she has him like a tick under her skin, she'll always pine for him. If she spends enough time with him, she'll get to see the real him and lose interest."

"What do you mean the real him? What are you trying to say?" Sam asked, not sure he liked what she was insinuating about his brother.

Jessica put her hand on Sam's forearm. "Sam, I understand he's your brother and you love him, I mean, so do I. He's much too charming and likable not to love him in the end. And he sure does love my husband and daughter a lot. He would do anything for you two, and so by extension, me too." She smiled and gave his arm a pat before turning back to their suitcases and continuing.

"But do you really think he's the right choice for sweet, innocent little Y/N? He's terrible when it comes to women. You know that. He goes through them like handkerchiefs, practically a new one every day."

Sam shrugged, conceding that Jessica had a point about his brother's rakish reputation. "But, didn't you notice his face this morning when he saw that Y/N wasn't with us? He looked like someone had punched him. I've never seen him act that way about any other woman."

Jessica shrugged as she put away their last piece of clothing. "Well, all I know is nothing is going to be resolved by keeping them apart or always in a group. They can only get through the situation if they spend some time together and realize how bad they are together. And to do that, they will need some privacy."

Sam looked slightly scandalized. "You want them to have privacy? Be alone together? Isn't that a little inappropriate?"

Jessica scoffed. "And isn't that a little hypocritical?" She walked up to him and placed a long, lingering kiss on his lips. "Don't you remember how much we enjoyed our privacy before we were married?"

Sam pushed her gently up against the bedroom door and began kissing a path down her neck. "Yes, I do. Speaking of privacy, lock the door."

***

Dean waited with bated breath as the front door opened. When Y/N walked in, his breath rushed out of him. Good God she was beautiful. 

Her hair had been swept up into a twist, but as she'd traveled wisps of it had come loose and now brushed gently against her cheeks. She wore a gray, wool, two piece dress, the uniform of a governess. But the plainness of the dress only managed to showcase her natural beauty. Her glowing skin couldn’t be dulled by the somber color, and the way the soft wool clung to her, beautifully outlined the curve of her breasts and the swell of her hips.

She caught his eye and the happy surprise in her expression was quickly overridden by heat and desire. Dean blamed that look for his next heedless actions. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her quickly after him into his study. He closed the door and immediately crushed her up against the bookcase beside it, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss.

He was instantly and completely lost in her. He had been starving for her lips every day since he'd left. He pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it as though it was a delicious piece of fruit.

His hands moved hastily, trying desperately to reach every inch of her, but the damnable wool was not yielding, not giving him what he wanted, so he ripped it apart. He pulled the bodice of her dress off, leaving her in her skirt and chemise. His lips moved to her neck and he kissed the pulse point there, nipping it gently and then lapping it with his tongue to soothe the spot.

Y/N let out a sound that was partly a groan, but also sounded close to crying. Dean stopped immediately and looked at her face properly for the first time since coming into the study. "Y/N?"

She opened her eyes and sure enough there were tears there that spilled down her cheeks. Immediately contrite, Dean cupped her cheeks. "God, Y/N, I'm so sorry. Are you alright? I don't know what came over me."

But Y/N was shaking her head. She pulled his lips back to hers and Dean could taste the salt of her tears on her lips. He pulled back and looked at her, confusion and desire warring in his expression. "Y/N?"

She shook her head. "Please, Dean. I just...missed you. I don't know why I'm crying." She laughed lightly, shaking her head. She wrapped her arms around him, slipping her hands under his jacket, kneading the muscles in his back. "Please don't stop."

Dean scooped her up and carried her to the couch. He laid her down on it, before climbing on top of her, covering her completely. He rejoiced at the feeling of her soft, yielding body beneath his. He kissed her again, knowing that what they were doing was stupid. People would be looking for them shortly; he hadn't even locked the study door.

But he couldn't stop kissing her, tasting her. He pulled her chemise down off her shoulder. He let her breast overflow his palm as he cupped it and swallowed Y/N's cry of pleasure.

He ground himself into her softness, cursing the layers of clothing that still separated them. He was seconds away from ripping the clothes from both their bodies, desperately aching to ease the desire and want he'd been swimming in for the last two months, when the door swung open.

Dean shifted quickly to cover Y/N the best he could with his own body before looking up to see Grant stop abruptly, hand still on the door knob. 

"I'm…my deepest apologies, Sir. Mr. and Mrs. Winchester are looking for you and…" He looked delicately to the side, away from the scene on the couch. "…and the young lady. Shall I tell them you'll join them in the dining room for lunch in a few minutes?" 

He paused for a moment. "Or, perhaps the young lady will be a while longer? No doubt, she'll want to change after…traveling."

"Thank you, Grant. Yes, tell them we'll both be along to lunch in ten minutes but that they should start without us." Dean responded, grateful that it had only been his very loyal and very discreet butler who had walked in.

Grant gave a short bow and walked out.

Dean climbed off of Y/N, pulling her to her feet.

She was the color of a ripe tomato. "Oh no, Dean! What if he carries tales to the other servants? I could be fired!"

Dean shook his head. "He won't. He's not like that."

He tried to smooth down her hair where his hands had tangled it. The sight of her mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips made him want to throw her back down and tell his guests to leave them alone for the rest of the day. But she moved out of his arms to pick up her dress bodice which he'd dropped beside the door.

She put it back on and started to button it. Suddenly she spun back around, her face stricken. "Dean! I have no buttons left! And I don't have any other clothes. They lost my bags completely. They think they ended up on a train to Boston. This is the only dress I have." She looked down at the pitiful bodice of the dress. All of the buttons but one were gone because of Dean's vigorous removal.

For some reason, the sight of her, completely disheveled, buttons missing and her chemise all wrinkled made him both lust after her and start to chuckle. Y/N was not impressed with his humor at the situation.

"It isn't funny, Dean! What on earth am I supposed to wear?"

He raised his hands in surrender, still grinning. "Alright, look, let's see if we can find the buttons." They began searching and between the two of them found all but one of the little silver buttons.

He put them all in her hands, and kissed her on the cheek.

"I'll show you to your room and get Mrs. Simmons, my housekeeper, to send up a maid with thread and an extra button. You'll be able to sew them all back on right?" She nodded. "I'll tell Sam and Jessica that you were too tired to come to lunch after your frustration at the train station. By the time supper comes around, you'll be all buttoned up again."

He grinned at her. She pouted slightly.

"But I'm hungry."

Dean laughed and kissed her again, deeply but quickly. "I'll send up buttons, thread and lunch."

Y/N smiled and Dean felt like the sunshine had emerged from behind the clouds, melting something inside him.

He checked to see if the coast was clear before leading Y/N up the stairs to the room he'd told Mrs. Simmons to have ready.

She went inside and Dean grabbed the door before she could close it.

"Please let me come back here tonight." His voice was a whisper, and he knew he was pleading, but he didn't care.

Y/N didn't say anything for a minute, but then she nodded and raised up on tiptoe to place a quick kiss on his lips before dashing inside and closing the door. He rested his head there for a minute before finding the strength to go down to lunch.

It was going to be a very long day.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

@jackles010378

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@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

@arcannaa

@viviwatchestv

@winharry

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@safiyas-world

@aylacavebear

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

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@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

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@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

[in1-nutshell]

I'M SORRY!! But can i request Buddy who's Dratchet's kid ending up in Fearless universe??

At the first moment that they see one another, they are besties.

But what would be the other reactions to them?? At first they don’t say anything about their dimension, dying to know the new one. But after a while they end up opening up and telling them from the adoption to the court problem and what their bio parents did.

What would be the other reaction to this? How is dratchet going to react??

The two human's of the Lost Light finally meet!

Hope you enjoy!

Dratchet's kid meeting Fearless

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Human reader

MTMTE

Fearless was seriously considering asking Brainstorm for a radar to detect where these random interdimensional portals would pop up.

For their sake and for the sake of their now crushed spine.

At least this time they were human.

The new human quickly got off Fearless’s back looking slightly panicked.

Fearless sits up, slightly groaning from the pain in their back. Fearless: “Hey kid, calm down, you’re safe here.” The kid looks around slightly frantic: “Am I on the Lost Light?” Fearless raises their eyebrow: “Yeah? You must be from a universe that also has a Lost Light.” The human looks at them confused: “What do you mean ‘universe’?” Fearless: “Before that, what’s your name? I’m Fearless.” The other human’s eyes widen a bit: “Fearless?” Fearless: “Yeah, not my Earth name. Haven’t used that name in a while. Its more—” The human smiles: “—a nickname that just stuck?” Fearless: “Yeah, I’m assuming that you got one too?” The human nods: “Whirl gave me the nickname Dratchet.” Fearless smiles widely: “Whirl gave you a name too!” Dratchet smiles back. Maybe this wasn’t going to be too bad…

Things were much smoother in explaining the interdimensional portals.

Mainly because Dratchet had been studying portals with Brainstorm a few days ago.

Fearless immediately wanted to show Dratchet around the ship.

Dratchet was bouncing around happily at the proposal wanting to know everything about this universe and how it was different from their own.

Strange enough, it took a while for anyone to notice that there was another human on board.

Mainly because Whirl found out about the new human and insisted carrying the pair in his cockpit.

He also wanted to see how long it would take for someone to notice the human.

It lasted for a good two hours before whirl got bored and decided to give the new human a proper dramatic entrance.

At Swerve’s…

Whirl marches up to the booth where Megatron is. He looks up. Megatron: “Whirl, do you need something?” Whirl: “Yes, the child support.” Megatron: “What?” Whirl pops open his cockpit revealing Fearless and Dratchet, both who smile and wave happily. Whirl: “Say hello to your new kid!” Dratchet looking up at him. Dratchet: “Megs isn’t my dad Whirl. Wrong mechs.” Megatron finally processes that there is a new human. Megatron sighs defeatedly: “A portal?” Fearless: “A portal.”

Surely after that the entire bar moved in to get a look at the new human.

Dratchet was having the time of their life meeting these alternate versions of their family.

Spouting stories from their universe while also listening in on the stories from this universe.

Whirl: “Hey tiny.” Dratchet looks up at Whirl. Dratchet: “Yeah? What’s up?” Whirl: “You mentioned earlier that Megatron here wasn’t your dad. So… how is it?” Dratchet smirks. Dratchet: “Why don’t you guess?” They glance over at Drift and Ratchet before looking back at the crowd. Dratchet: “Any guess? Anyone?” Riptide: “Brainstorm and Perceptor.” Dratchet gives him a look. Dratchet: “No.” Pipes: “Thunderclash and Rodimus.” *Faint sounds of Rodimus puking in the background* Dratchet looks slightly appalled: “What? No! You know what, don’t try and guess--”  Nightbeat: “Ratchet and Drift.” Dratchet: “…” They look over at the pair and shyly wave. Drift was the first to make a move and walks over followed by Ratchet. Drift: “So, you’re our…” Dratchet: “I’m your kid, yeah—” Drift lifts them up and pulls them into a hug turning to Ratchet. Drift: “We have a kid!” Ratchet lets out a soft smile and nods. Tailgate nudges at the detective: “How did you—” Nightbeat: “Their name is a mix of their own. It was obvious.”

After the reveal, Dratchet tells the crew about how they became Drift and Ratchet’s kid and the emotional rollercoaster of what happened when they returned to Earth.

On a day that was supposed to be full of fun, turn to one to decide the future custody of the child.

Drift and Ratchet did tense a bit hearing the tale of the court room.

Of course, Dratchet wasn’t their kid, but they also couldn’t imagine what was going through their counter parts helms when they were in that court room.

The pair had their fair share of parenting with Fearless, but they couldn’t imagine having a kid of their own.

Maybe in the future?

Who knows when you’re traveling on the Lost Light.

Dratchet does make it clear that if their presence does bother the pair to let them know.

It backfires and now Dratchet is spending most of their time with their parents’ alternatives.

It pains the pair to say goodbye to the kid when they have to leave, but they can also imagine the near hysteria their counterparts must been trying to find their kid after a few days.

In Dratchet’s universe…

Dratchet lands on top of a sleeping Rodimus. Rodimus jolts up nearly knocking the human off his chassis. He quickly catches them before they hit the ground. Rodimus: “Dratchet?!” Dratchet smiles as they are pulled into the captains’ chassis. Rodimus: “Where have you been?! We’ve been search all over the ship for you!” Dratchet: “Well there was this—HEY!” Rodimus jumps out of his berth, transforms and starts speeding off while Dratchet was clutching onto their seatbelt for dear life. Dratchet: “RODDY! SLOW DOWN!” Rodimus making several quick turns. He stops in front a familiar habsuite door. He transforms, holding Dratchet in one servo and begins knocking on the door with much urgency. Drift is at the door with a sword in his servo. Drift: “Rodimus! What in Primus’s name are…” He looks at Dratchet in his friend’s servo waving. Dratchet: “Hey Drift.” A small noise creeps from Drift’s voicebox as he drops his sword. Ratchet comes from behind him. Ratchet: “Drift what—Dratchet? Dratchet!” Ratchet reaches over and gets the small human in his servos, holding them close to his chassis. Dratchet tries and gives him the biggest hug they could. Drift: “Where did you find them?” Rodimus shrugs: “They literally fell on my chassis.” Dratchet yawning: “I’ll explain everything after a nap, yeah?” All three mech nod. Rodimus returns to his room as Drift closes the door. Ratchet is look around for any injuries. Dratchet hugs his digit: “I’m fine Ratchet.” The medic huffs as he settles back in the berth. Drift follows closely and places a servo over them. Drift: “You have some explaining to do kiddo.” Dratchet yawns and rest on the pair’s servos. Dratchet: “Later… Sleep now…” And with that all three of them went into a peaceful sleep.

[someidiot-withadhd]

So uhm…

Sanders Sides Fantasy AU!!!

Hehe..

Please I’ve spent four days on this

Explanations and extra details under the cut! And close ups of everyone!!

Well there everyone is!

So, for some basic info, this is kinda based off of D&D but I’m too lazy to give everyone classes and stats, so they just get races!

This is set in a world that Roman created in the imagination, and dragged everyone along with him. Maybe by accident, maybe on purpose.. maybe he was just missing the others.. it had been so long since they’ve all been together, so why not take them on an adventure!

Patton: A frogfolk! He’s already one of the shortest, and even shorter now! That’s doesn’t bother him though, if anything were to bother him, it would be the memory of his past experience being a frog… But no matter! If they’re stuck in the imagination until they finish their quest, he’ll just have to do what’s needed! (And he’ll collect every shiny thing he sees on the way, even if it puts him in danger!)

Logan: A faun. Not his first choice, but whatever makes the others happy. Thankfully, he got to keep his tie, and his book. That’ll help keep him focused in this unfamiliar world. And if only his fur would stay neat, no mater what he does it’s always unruly, it’s irritating.

Virgil: Mr. Panic at the everywhere finally has a form to match, maybe. A phantom? Well that fits. Although why is he neither an animal or human? Is it because he’s left the dark sides..? No.. he’s getting paranoid again.. and why does he have a knife?

Janus: yes he may be the two-faced snake of the group, but that doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy! He’s trying to do better, honestly. And turning him into a Hydra seems kind of mean, don’t you think? No this wasn’t his doing, he never wanted to be here in the first place.. well, if he’s here he should probably make the best of it.

Roman: A dragon, just like his dreams! Of course, he never expected to be a dragon himself, but the tail and wings are really cool! And besides, why not make the best out of his forced family bonding time! It’s not like he’s scared to talk to them after they’ve drifted apart or anything! No, the great prince Roman is fearless!

Remus: oh, what do we have here? Roman and co. are in the imagination? Well why not turn this to my advantage! We’ll see how they’re doing in there, and maybe pull some strings, take this into my own hands, and twist this to my liking. And I better change to match, besides, it’ll be nice not being cold blooded for a while. This will be an amazing little adventure, won’t it, ————?

So, all the dark sides have animal traits right? Why not take this a step further, and make them full animals!

Woah, thanks for reading this far! I’m super excited about this, but still, it’s only a concept, and stuff could change!