#like do i have to get certified somewhere or what. what's going on here. i just wanna be able to take forms home

[rubberbandballqueen]

does the fact that i am having a rogue translation of legal forms made so that the local immigrants can also participate in city programs they otherwise would've been kept out of due to illiteracy make me chaotic good, or do i have to be doing more expressly illegal things for that to count

[mountainsandmayhem]

Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

DBF!Joel x Fem!Reader

18+ MDNI

Masterlist || Part Two || Part Three (Soft Version) || Part Three (Spicy Version)

Summary: Joel catches you somewhere you shouldn't be, twice. CW: all p no plot! age gap, spanking, dirty talk, parental guilt, brat and brat tamer, sub/dom dynamics, edging and degradation kinks if you squint AN: I found the bottom right photo on Pinterest and @mermaidgirl30 said it screamed DBF!Joel. I have never written for DBF before so please be kind. Dividers by @saradika-graphics - thank you for all your amazing graphics and dividers, I'd be lost without your page.

“Let go of me, you fucking psycho!” You’re practically yelling over the music of the club, wrenching your arm from Joel’s strong grasp. The security guard approaches and Joel shoots him a glare so dark that he holds his hands up and steps back. “What the fuck, Joel?”

“What are ya doin’ here, sweetheart” he demands, one eyebrow raised. 

“I’m working!” You stomp your foot and then get right up in his face, pointing a finger at him. Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, hanging out in a strip club one town over. “The real question is, what are YOU doin here?” 

You’re only a bottle girl, you don’t get on the stage and have no intentions of stripping. It’s good money, great money actually. At 22 you’re already well on your way to having a down payment on a condo, it’s just too bad you’re having to lie to your parents. 

“With my crew, they picked the place. I’m takin’ you home. Go get your coat.” He crosses his arms over his chest, staring at you sternly. The music is pounding in your ears, the air thick with smoke. Even in the dimly lit hallway you can see the way Joel’s eyes rake over your body, taking in the very tiny Jean shorts and bralette you’re wearing. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spin and flip him the bird as you walk away. You know he’s staring so you give a little extra wiggle of your ass as you walk away. Joel Miller, staring at your ass. The fourteen year old inside you does a happy dance - that version of yourself had a tiny crush on him. Too bad he’s a stuffy, grumpy asshole now. You miss the fun, young Joel. He used to do cannonballs in the pool with you and his daughter Sarah. She was a few years older than you, but he was much more fun than your father. But now? Now he’s a certified prick. Thinking he can drag you away like some sort of barbaric caveman. He’s not your dad, even if he was, you’re an adult. 

When you finish your shift you head outside and pull up your Uber app, men often want to do shots with you so even though you never get drunk at work you also don’t drive there. 

See, Joel. I’m responsible. 

“Let’s go,” his voice is deep, still angry with you. You didn’t see him waiting by the door so you jump. 

“Jesus. You fucking scared me.” 

“Watch your language. Get in the truck.” 

You grumble under your breath that he should kiss your ass as he holds the door open for you. He stalks around to his side of the truck while furrowing his brow and shaking his head. 

“Got somethin’ to say young lady?” 

“Ya,” you say, slumping in the seat and putting your white vans on his dashboard, “kiss my ass.” 

He presses his lips in a thin line, you can see him eyeing your long toned legs from your peripheral vision before the engine roars to life and he speeds off down the gravel highway. 

When you pull up to the house he hops out of the truck and is right on your heels as you open the door. 

“I’m fine, Mister Miller.” You say with a sneer. You know he hates that, he has told everyone he’s ever been introduced to to call him Joel. 

Joel steps into your parents house and calls your dad’s name. “What the fuck! Joel! Shut up!” 

He calls for him again and your dad comes stumbling from his room, tying his robe around his sleeping attire. “Joel? What’s going on?” He flicks on the light, squinting against the brightness. “It’s 3 in the morning.” 

“Just thought I’d let you now know that the guys at work wanted to go to The Skin tonight. Caught your daughter working there.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?!” You yell, pushing at his broad chest. Your dad stands there stunned. Eyes wide and mouth agape. He thought you were working as a nurses aide overnight at the hospital on weekends. He’s even seen you leave the house in scrubs. All a part of the web of lies you have weaved. 

“Don’t speak to Joel that way,” your dad snaps. “Go to your room young lady. We’ll talk about this later.” 

“Kiss my ass, cowboy.” You practically spit at him as you stomp to your room. As you round the corner your mom is standing in the hallway clutching her crucifix necklace. You have a sudden urge to hiss at her with the way she’s looking at you, like you’re a disappointment. A sinner, the worst kind of person in her eyes. 

The next morning was the fight of all fights with your parents. Your dad tried to ground you, your mom started shoving church pamphlets at you. They wouldn’t even fucking listen. 

“IM NOT A STRIPPER,” you yelled at them over and over again. 

Finally, when the yelling ceased, your dad said in a very quiet anger, “young lady. I FORBID you from going there again. Is that clear? I don’t care if you’re 22 or 42, if you live under my roof, you live by my rules. You’re going to go to continue going to your university classes during the week, and on weekends you will be home. Studying. Helping your mother with the chores. You will go to bed at respectable hour. If you need money, you ask us. Is that clear?” 

You blink back tears and head to your room, slamming the door behind you. You are NOT quitting that job. 

When the next weekend rolls around you say goodnight to your parents at 10pm and head to your room. You worked it out with your boss to work the midnight to 4 am shift. So you wait - ear pressed to your door until you finally hear your parents go to bed. You sneak out the same way you’ve been sneaking out for years and run down the street with your newly embroidered denim shorts in hand to meet your Uber. 

You peel yourself away from the men and the booze around 2am to get some fresh air, exiting through the back to the dimly lit alley. You take a big inhale through your nose before you see it. The truck. Joel’s truck. And Joel. Leaning against the truck box, arms crossed, one foot up on the tire. 

You flip him off and then turn back towards the back entrance to the club. He’s on you so fast, grabbing the back of your bicep in his large hand. “You little brat. You aren’t supposed to be here.” 

“Read the shorts, MISTER Miller.” You say it as much venom as you can muster. 

His eyes rake down your body and you can almost feel them burning into you. It feels so good, you never want him to stop. Your pussy throbbed when he called you a brat and you wouldn’t be surprised if your light jean shorts hadn’t been soaked through already. When his eyes reach the pocket he sees ‘Kiss My Ass, Cowboy’ stitched in baby pink lettering and his grip tightens. 

He’s fucking furious with you. Furious that you’re here. Furious that other men get to see you dressed like this. Furious that he wants you so fucking badly. But mostly, furious because he knows you want him too and he’s a weak weak man when it comes to pretty little things like you. He yanks you back against his body and you let out a pained moan. 

“Don’t make me punish you,” he says coldly in your ear and you fight to stop your knees from buckling. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say breathlessly. 

Joel’s lips graze against the shell of your ear, hand gripping so tightly that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow. “So that’s what you want? You want me to punish you? Put you in your place? Huh?” 

You grind your ass back against him, “you would dare, Joel.” 

His other hand clamps down on your hip as he steers you to his truck, walking you around so no one can see the two of you. He opens the back door and pushes you forward until your legs are against the cold steel frame of the vehicle. “You don’t get to call me that. You call me Mr Miller from now on. Understood?” 

“Go fuck yourself, Joel,” you emphasize every vowel of his name, digging deeper. Pushing him. Pushing to see how far he’ll go. You get off on being a brat, and by the way his hard cock is pressing into your ass, he does too. 

He unbottons your shorts then lifts you slightly and pushes your upper body down onto the seat, the truck is high enough that your feet are dangling, ass stuck out for him. “Look at these slutty little shorts.” He tugs on the hem, your shorts now sitting just above your knees. Your pert ass is exposed to Joel and the night air. He tuts at the sight of you, “No panties. Little fuckin’ tease.” 

You whimper at his words, slick starting to coat your thighs. “You’re the one standing back there doing nothing.” You taunt. 

The cool night air spreads goosebumps across your skin, your clit twitches in anticipation of his touch. Other men have fucked you hard to get you to shut your mouth. And finally, FINALLY, you’re going to get fucked by Joel Miller. However, you grossly underestimated the different between the boys were with before and the man behind you now. 

His hand strikes your cheek hard and you let out a loud pained yell. “What the fuck, Joel!” 

“If you’re gonna be a brat,” his hand lands on your ass again, “you’re going to get a spanking.” His voice is harsh and rough as he hits you a third time. The sound of his skin on yours echoing through the cab of his truck. He hits you again, not caring about your cries of protest. 

You’ve never been spanked before and you’re thrown by your bodies reaction to it. At first you were shocked, then humiliated and then the pain and heat travelled to the base of your spine and you found yourself starting to get turned on. Arousal pools in your belly with each strike of his palm and when your pussy throbs the humiliation starts to creep back in. Are you supposed to be enjoying this so much, is this what Joel wants?

You bend your knees up, trying to make space between your bodies. One of his strong hands wraps around your ankles, pinning them to the back of your thighs as he spanks you again. 

“Stop! I’m sorry. I’ll - “ he strikes you again, harder than the last few times and there’s no more pain, every slap is full of pleasure. You let out a deep moan, your pussy practically gushing onto the leather seats. “Oh fuuuuck.”

Now that it’s turning you on it almost eggs Joel on. “Put your hands out in front of you,” he commands. Your arms shoot out, stretching them across the seat above your head. “Such a needy little slut. You’re drippin’ all over my fucking seat, baby girl.” He strikes you again and your arms flinch. “Keep them there.” 

Your ass is starting to get pink, his splotchy handprints covering it. The world around him starts to fade, all that he can see is you and your ass - and he wants to make it hurt. Then he wants to make it good. So very good. 

His strikes keep coming, he’s like a man possessed. “Stop, Joel. Please.” 

He drops your ankles, then uses his hand to spread your thighs apart, the denim biting into your knees. “Shhh…just a little bit more. Look at this messy pussy. You don’t want me to stop.” 

He hits you again and you start to hate how much he’s right. You don’t want him to stop, you’re on the verge of coming and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re sure the second he’s near your clit you’ll explode. 

Both of your cheeks are glowing red and Joel finally stops. You’ve both lost track of how many times he’s hit you. His large palm rubs the marks. You know you should keep your mouth shut, but fuck do you love to rile him up. 

“Are you done now? I have work to get back to.” 

Joel growls behind you. You hear the sound of his belt undoing, the leather whipping out from the demin loops. “I’m sick of your goddamn mouth, baby girl.” 

Your eyes widen in fear, stomach twisting up over the thought of him striking your sore ass with his thick leather belt. Your pussy, however, flutters in excitement. Slut, you think to yourself. 

You hear his buckle clinking, he grabs you by the hair and jerks your head back. “Open you mouth,” he says with a snarl. You obey him and he slides the folded up leather between your teeth. “Bite down on this. You can speak to me again once you’ve learned your lesson.” 

You press your teeth into the rough leather, waiting for his next move. His hand comes across the back of your thigh and it’s a whole different sensation. The pain shoots straight to your core, the walls of your pussy clenching harder than your teeth do as you whine out a high pitched squeal. On instinct your hands shoot back, knees bending to protect yourself from him. He steps back from you, without his heat you’re left in the cold air. 

“Arms up and legs down,” he says in an eerily calm voice. 

You whimper again, grinding your teeth against the leather of his belt before slowly peeling your arms and legs away from your body, returning to Joel’s desired position. You’re so wet that it’s staring pool along the leather seat of Joel’s truck, your hips slipping slightly. 

“Dirty little thing. I’m tryin to punish you and you’re sopping wet.” He steps forward and lays a loud sharp slap with perfect precision right across your sore thigh. 

You yelp again, whining as your lash line fills with tears. This is not what you thought would happen when Joel threatened to punish you. And you definitely didn’t expect to fucking love it. You’re so turned on that you feel dizzy. 

Joel’s lips come to your thigh. Light kisses and his scratchy facial hair peppering along your red hot skin. “Fuck me,” you say around the leather clamped between your teeth. 

Joel laughs into your skin, kissing along the handprints he’s left on your ass. You’re squirming underneath him, pushing your ass towards his face, desperate for him to make you come. His hands grip around your shorts and your whole body relaxes at the thought of him finally fucking you. “I need you to listen to me now, ok?” 

You nod fervently and he lets out an amused laugh. You arch your back at him invitingly, but instead of removing your shorts he yanks them back up. You moan out in protest as he lifts you down from the truck. His strong fingers work to do up your shorts before he spins you. You look like a wreck; mascara smudged under your eyes, cheeks pink, eyes glazed and dopey looking. Cock drunk and he hasn’t even given it to you. He grabs the belt and you release it for him. It’s killing him not to fuck you right here and now. 

His hand cups your chin, squeezing your cheeks and locking eyes with you. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

You try to nod but he’s gripping you so tightly. “Yea? Then you need to do what I say. Ok?” 

“Mm-hmm” 

“Go in there and quit. Then come back out here and I will fuck you so hard that you’ll feel it in your throat.” 

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag  @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @mermaidgirl30

[fluentmoviequoter]

Just a Dog Walker

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x grad student!dog walker!fem!reader

Summary: As Tim's dog walker, and nothing more, you grow close to him and Kojo. After protecting Kojo from a dog fight, you learn how Tim really sees you.

Warnings: dog attack, dog bite (r), fluffy ending. (Kojo is totally fine!)

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

A/N: More Kojo, what the world really needs.

“Sergeant Bradford, come to my office for a minute?” Wade asks.

“No,” Tim answers quickly. “Uh, sorry. No, sir, I can’t.”

Crossing his arms, Wade inquires, “Why not?”

A low huff is audible in Tim’s office, but Wade knows it isn’t him.

“Is yo’ dog under that desk?”

“No.”

“Let me amend the question. Is Kojo under the desk?”

Kojo barks happily, trying to push past Tim to visit Wade. Wade shakes his head, dropping his arms.

“Why is he here?”

“I’m working a double and I couldn’t leave him at home. What if he had run out of water or needed to go out?” Tim answers.

“You know, here in sunny Los Angeles, there are more people than I can count who are certified dog sitters.”

“Kojo doesn’t like strangers.”

“Just Kojo? Look, Tim, I get it, the bond between a man and his dog. But, there has to be a boundary, a separation somewhere. I’ll call Luna, she’s got friends with dogs and trusted, bonded employees who watch their dogs. Walk ‘em daily, train ‘em, do everything while you’re at work.”

“I can take care of my dog by myself.”

“Not while you’re at work, Bradford. He can stay for now, Lord knows he’s a better boy than you, but by the end of the week I want to know you’ve got someone to care for him.”

Tim grumbles, pushing his hands under the desk to pet Kojo. “I’ll take you up on Luna’s friends then.”

“She’ll call later.”

“You already asked her?”

“’Course I did. We have work to do. And, so you know, we can see Kojo’s paws under the desk. But nice try.”

“I tried, buddy,” Tim tells Kojo, passing him a treat from the container hidden in his desk drawer.

✯✯✯✯✯

Grad school is expensive, but since you don’t have the degree level you are striving for, you need a different job to get you through. Pushing 30 and being a dog walker isn’t ideal, but it’s paying the bills. One of your neighbors helped you open a business with proper insurance and licensing to care for the dogs of Los Angeles. 

Most of your clients live nearby, and you do your rounds twice daily, studying and attending classes between. One of your favorite clients has a friend named Luna, who you love. She gets you jobs, helps you out constantly, and is like a mother figure to you. You are forever grateful for her. So, when she calls, you rush to answer.

“Hey, Luna!” you answer. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you doing? Still working on your dissertation; making progress?”

“Slow but steady, yeah. What can I do for you?”

“This is actually something I can do for you. There’s a sergeant that works with Wade; he’s got a dog and needs someone trusted to take care of his dog while he’s at work. He’s been sneaking Kojo into the station and Wade had to ask him to stop.”

“Kojo? That’s an adorable name. But, yeah, I’d be happy to meet him.”

“Awesome! His name’s Tim. I will send him your number and have Wade force him to set something up.”

“Is Tim a little rough around the edges, typical cop type?”

“Not typical, no… Just- you’ll see when you meet him. He’s great, though, deep down.”

“I’ll try to remember that. Thanks, Luna.”

“See you Friday?”

“See you Friday.”

You sit back, writing the name ‘Tim’ on your dog-walking calendar. Another client would be great for your wallet, but it seems like this sergeant will take some convincing before he hires you. This is understandable, of course, because you wouldn’t let just anyone take care of your babies, and dogs are just four-legged babies. 

“Please be as great as Luna said,” you whisper before returning your attention to the research before you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Yeah, I texted her. We’re meeting at an outdoor café tonight,” Tim says before Wade can ask. “But if I don’t like her or if Kojo doesn’t like her, I’m going to keep looking.”

“Got it,” Wade answers. “But you’ve got more double shifts in your future, so don’t take too long trying to find a ‘perfect’ dog walker.”

Tim nods, hoping he can find a way out of letting a stranger into his house to take care of his dog. He checked your name, and your business seems legitimate, but there’s no way of knowing. Luckily, he and Kojo are both excellent judges of character.

✯✯✯✯✯

Luna sent you a picture of Kojo, and you spot him immediately. The man sitting beside him, though, is breathtakingly handsome. You’re shocked that he doesn’t have female neighbors and friends lining up at his door, offering to take care of Kojo (and him). 

“Hi, Mr. Bradford?” you ask.

Kojo looks up at you and pants, his tail slapping against Tim’s leg.

“Yes. Nice to meet you,” Tim replies, offering his hand.

Shaking his hand, you glance down at Kojo. When Tim releases his grip, you squat and extend your hand for Kojo to sniff. He flips your hand up with his snout, stepping closer to you.

“I’m sure Luna told you that I’m a cop,” Tim continues, drawing your attention away from Kojo.

You sit beside him, lowering a hand to pat Kojo’s head. “She did, sir.”

“Then you know that if anything were to happen to my house during or after your visit, I could very easily charge you with any number of crimes. And I won’t tell you what I would do if something happened to Kojo while under your care.”

You can’t tell if his threat is legitimate, so you nod in understanding.

“Yes, sir, I understand. Kojo’s safety, and your home, of course, are of the utmost importance and I will do everything I can to do right by both of you.”

Tim nods, watching Kojo for a moment. “You’re good with him. He’s not always so welcoming with strangers; scared one of my girlfriends away once. So, I’m going to give you a chance.”

“Amazing. Thank you, sir. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“What do we need to do to get started?”

“I can offer you a few days free, as a trial run. And if you still want to keep me on afterward, we can discuss payment, sir.”

“That’s unnecessary. I need someone to take care of Kojo and you seem to be the best fit.”

“Okay. Then I will email you a link to create a client account and my website has a portal to pay. Luna mentioned that you work overnight sometimes, so if you needed me to do later or earlier visits, I can do that too, sir.”

“Sounds good.”

Tim stands, wiping his hand on his jeans before offering his hand again.

“Nice to meet you and I look forward to your email.”

“You, too. And thank you.”

Petting Kojo once more, you smile before walking away. You didn’t expect him to be so attractive, so you have to remember that he clarified you’re his dogwalker, and he doesn’t even really want a dogwalker.

Determined to make him see the benefits of someone caring for Kojo, you add him to your schedule before he even pays you. Money is no longer a concern; you’re already in love with Kojo, and now, you need to focus on not falling for his owner, too.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’d you think about her? I know you hired her, but what’d you think personally?” Luna asks, standing in Wade’s office.

Tim shrugs. “She’s very polite. Seems driven, hard-working, responsible.”

“Well, now that you’ve read her resumé, have anything else to add?”

Tim doesn’t answer, and Wade guesses, “She makes you nervous?”

“A little.”

“What?” Luna exclaims. “She’s the sweetest!”

“Not like that, Luna,” Wade interjects. “Someone wasn’t expecting a pretty dog walker.”

“Oh. Tim Bradford, I wasn’t sure you still had it in you.”

“She is taking care of Kojo. Yes, she is beautiful, but this won’t go any farther than a business agreement.”

“Care to bet on that?” Wade asks.

“No,” Tim answers before leaving and closing the door behind him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, Kojo, Kojo,” you call, entering Tim’s house with the key he had made for you.

Kojo’s nails click on the flooring, rushing to greet you.

“Hey, buddy. You miss your dad? I bet you do.”

As you slide Kojo’s harness over his front legs, he licks your face, and you laugh, scratching his chest before standing to connect his leash. Kojo has quickly become your favorite dog. You visit several throughout the day, but Kojo is the sweetest and the most handsome.

When you return to Tim’s side door, it’s standing open. You know that you closed and locked it, so you pull Kojo’s leash tight, stepping back as you prepare to run.

“It’s just me!” Tim yells from inside. “Sorry, my hands were full, and I couldn’t close the door.”

Sighing in relief, you lead Kojo inside, closing the door behind you and locking it instinctually.

“Honey, we’re home!” you call.

Tim freezes in the kitchen at your teasing, borderline flirtatious tone. You remove Kojo’s leash and harness and put it away, following him as he runs toward Tim.

“Why are you home so early?” you ask.

“I worked all night,” Tim answers. “Thought you’d feel my absence through our connection.”

You chuckle at Tim’s flirting. After the second meeting, it became much easier to talk to him. Interestingly enough, Tim started the flirtatious tendencies. You tend to stick to business-related topics, but sometimes it feels like you’re just two friends – maybe more – and you forget you’re just his dog walker.

“Everything go okay at work, sir? Kojo, for one, had a great day.”

Tim says your name, a sigh more than anything. “I told you a week ago to stop calling me sir.”

“Sorry, sir- Tim.”

Tim looks away suddenly, turning his attention to the bags he carried inside while you were walking Kojo.

“Did you even wonder where Kojo was?” you ask.

“No. I know his dog walker is punctual… and a control freak.”

“Planning my day doesn’t make me a control freak!”

“You have it planned to the minute.”

“To accommodate you,” you grumble.

“Yet you won’t let me take you on a date.”

“You won’t ask.”

You fall silent, and when you think you took it too far, Kojo barks and makes you both laugh. Talking to Tim is easy, but no matter how much you love Kojo or think you could be more, you must keep everything in perspective. Tim is older, a police sergeant and you are his college student dog walker.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hello?” you ask, answering your phone and rubbing your eyes as you look away from the computer screen.

“Hey,” Tim says. “I’m so sorry for the late notice but I’m going to be here overnight. Could you-“

“I’ll go over now.”

“Listen, it’s crazy out there right now. If you want to stay there, please do. I don’t want you out more than you have to be.”

“Tim, that’s not necessary.”

“Please. It’s not just for your safety; I’ll feel better knowing that you’re somewhere safe.”

“Okay,” you reply. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m insisting. Kojo is a cuddler, but that’s all you have to fear there.”

“Oh, you should have started with that. Kojo cuddles sound amazing.”

“Long day?”

“Not as long as yours. I’ll text you when I get there. Thank you, Tim.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“See you then.”

The drive to Tim’s house is short, but you hear several police sirens. Whatever they’re dealing with does seem (as Tim put it) crazy. Once you’re inside and the alarm is reset, you collapse on the couch and let Kojo cuddle up to you. You feel weirdly close to Tim, too, probably from being in his house. Falling asleep here is easy; you’re at peace, happy, and cuddled by a warm, loving dog.

✯✯✯✯✯

Waking up is not quite as peaceful. Tim is taking a picture, and when you grunt, he lowers the phone and smiles.

“That’s adorable,” he states.

“I’m quitting,” you murmur, throwing an arm over Kojo.

“You know, he didn’t even come see me when I got home? He’s a cheater, although I can’t blame him. It does look pretty comfortable.”

Ignoring him, you move closer to Kojo.

“Consider this my two hours’ notice.”

Tim chuckles, and the couch dips by your feet as he sits. When you sit up, he’s leaning back with his eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Well, I’ll get out of your way so you can rest. Need me to come back later?”

“No, I’m here all day. If you want to stay, you can.”

“I have a paper to finish,” you lament. “But I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” You’re gathering your things when Tim reiterates, “Seriously. You’re always welcome here.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

“Drive safe.”

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s cloudy in Los Angeles, like a bad omen. You’re considering taking Tim’s offer of staying at his house to work. Kojo is the last dog you visit, and you look down at him as he sniffs the base of a streetlight.

“Mind if I stay with you for the rest of the day?” you ask him.

Kojo’s tail wags faster, but he’s still more interested in the light than you.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Kojo picks his head up, continuing toward the corner as you lead him down the sidewalk. You see something move up the road and command Kojo to stop. Unsure if it’s a dog or some other animal, you wait a moment before walking again.

With your attention on the unknown shadow before you, you fail to hear a dog running up behind you. Kojo turns suddenly, and you don’t register what’s happening as you push him out of the way.

Another dog, about Kojo’s size, with no leash or owner in sight, is on top of you. Kojo is barking, trying to help, but you yell at him to stay back.

“Kojo, sit!” you yell over the other dog’s growling.

Your yell turns to a cry of pain when the dog’s jaw clamps down on your arm, his claws digging into your side.

“Get off!” you yell, your adrenaline giving you the strength to push back. 

Once you’re sitting up, you use your legs to free yourself from the dog’s grip. Kojo is behind you, unharmed, and you need to keep it that way. Flipping yourself on top of the dog, it releases your arm before moving its legs wildly, raking a paw across your face as it tries to move away.

“Go!” you yell harshly, moving enough to let it up.

Stomping your foot after it, you show the dog you’re in charge and wait in front of Kojo until it’s out of sight.

“Kojo, we have to go,” you say quickly, grabbing his leash and limping behind him as he leads you home.

Kojo focuses on getting you inside, and when you close the door and fall to the floor, he moves to your side. He whimpers, and you want to comfort him, but you are growing dizzy.

“You okay, boy?” you mumble.

You scream in pain when you raise your hand to check that Kojo is okay. After dropping your arm, your breathing grows shallow as tears stream down your face. Kojo whines again, and you want to reach for your phone, but your arms feel too heavy to move. Looking down, you suddenly realize the severity of what happened. Covered in blood and with no strength to call for help, you whisper an apology to Kojo and let your eyes drift close.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim sighs as he turns onto his street. He’s ready to see Kojo and, if he’s lucky, you. When Tim sees your car in the driveway, he smiles and rushes toward the door. That happiness quickly disappears when he notices the trail of blood leading up the driveway. Walking to the sidewalk, he sees that it leads nearly to the corner. Racing to the backdoor, which has a large blood smear below a clear handprint, Tim keeps a hand on his gun as he unlocks the door.

Kojo’s whimpering greets Tim, and when he looks down, he sees that Kojo has blood on him. Kojo looks over quickly, and Tim follows his movement. Whatever fear he felt when he saw the blood on Kojo is multiplied when he sees you.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Tim calls for an ambulance before kneeling beside you.

“Is Kojo okay?” you ask weakly.

“He’s okay,” Tim promises, leaning closer in a poor attempt to find the source of your blood. “What hurts?”

“What doesn’t? Did you check on Kojo? He seemed okay but I couldn’t make sure the blood was mine.”

Tim turns, running his hands all over Kojo. The blood is only on his fur, evidently not his.

“He’s fine,” Tim repeats, his voice breaking at the end. “You are not.”

“There was a dog free running and I- I didn’t see it. Kojo stayed behind me so I need him to be okay.”

Tears are running down your face again, mixing with the blood. Tim wants to wipe them away, but the clear claw mark over your cheek deters him.

“There’s an ambulance on the way, you’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. Just stay awake.”

“Kojo- Kojo’s a good boy,” you mumble.

“He is. Can you please keep your eyes on me? The ambulance is almost here.”

You nod, and the last thing you remember is Tim’s apologetic look and a painful pressure on your side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim, are you coming with?” Bailey asks.

Tim is staring at the bloodstain on his floor and up his wall. “I’ll be there soon.”

“We’ll keep you updated. She’ll be okay.”

Tim nods and waits for the EMTs to exit the house before he begins cleaning. He scrubs until every trace of your blood is erased from inside and on the door. After animal control captured the dog, several officers went out to find the dog's owner. Nolan promised to come by and clean the driveway, so Tim concentrated his efforts inside.

“Alright, Kojo, our turn,” Tim calls, letting Kojo into the bathroom to remove the blood from his fur. 

After Tim cleans Kojo and himself and throws away the blood-stained rags and cleaning supplies, he gathers his things to visit you in the hospital.

“I’ll be back with our girl,” Tim promises Kojo as he leaves.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m sorry.” You can’t stop the apology when Tim walks in.

“Stop apologizing. You kept that dog away from Kojo and I don’t- I can’t lose you. I walked in and you were covered in blood… I should have told you before that I care about you.”

“It’s my job to take care of Kojo,” you whisper.

Tim moves to the side of the bed, gently taking your hand. “You are not just a dog walker. I’ve been falling for you since the moment I laid eyes on you. The fact that you love Kojo solidified it for me.”

“I- I have feelings for you too,” you admit.

“They told me your pretty face won’t scar.”

“I barely even remember what happened.”

Tim sits beside your legs as he tells you, “Nolan and Celina arrested the dog’s owner. It wasn’t the first time he had done this.”

“Given a poor, unsuspecting college student thirty stitches while she’s just trying to spend the afternoon in her crush’s house? Oddly specific crime. What’s the code for that?”

Tim chuckles, gently squeezing your hand. “You can go home now. If you’re still up to spend some time in your crush’s house.”

“Tim-“

“Don’t tell me I don’t have to. I want to, need to.”

“I would love to spend time with you and Kojo. But I’m not sure I’m up for flirting today, handsome.”

“After the day you’ve had, just sit back and I’ll do all the flirting.”

“’Preciate that, sir.”

Tim laughs as he exits the room to complete your discharge paperwork. You smile behind him, hoping you’re not dreaming, and you finally told him how you feel.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo,” Tim chides. “Give her some room.”

“You cleaned all the blood?”

Tim gently directs your eyes to him, leaning close to remind you, “You’re more than just a dog walker. Worth the time, the effort, the love, all of it.”

“Love?”

“Yeah. Kojo really loves you.”

You laugh, quickly remembering that you have several stitches on your side.

“Careful,” Tim requests.

“Are you certified to help someone sit still while stitches hold their side closed?” you ask.

“Depends on the patient. You? Absolutely.”

Tim helps you get comfortable on the couch before walking to the kitchen to gather some water and snacks. When he returns, Kojo is cuddled up to your uninjured side.

“Really? Again?” Tim asks.

“I love you,” you say, completely distracting Tim as he kneels before you. “But I also think I really want to quit this time.”

Tim laughs, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “That’s fine. I am looking for a girlfriend rather than a dog walker now anyway.”

“Care to see my resumé?”

“Memorized it last time.”

[wonuwrites]

Heyy, can you do the “you calling them pretty” prompt on svt too? 🤩 i just know it’ll be so soft for some of them and i need that 😁❤️

omg Sn0wy 0wl you read my mind LMAOOO I was going to do this bc it's such a cute idea like eeee <3

You Calling Seventeen Pretty <3

Got7's version here: x

Warnings: Fluff, didn't really read it over or edit. If it's shit im sorry lmaoooo

ღ S Coups:

Listen, Seungcheol is both the most cocky and softest member of Seventeen and we love it. Honestly, peak Leo energy. He's the only male Leo I would let ruin my life atp. He often gives the alpha vibe but when it comes to you, oh man he is a certified simp. On days when he is already extra soft for you, if you called him pretty he would be super bashful and just hide his face while saying thank you.

ღ Jeonghan:

Look, everyone knows Jeonghan is pretty. Even Jeonghan knows. HOW FUCKING EVER- when you of all people call him pretty he gets speechless?!? He just giggles and literally becomes putty in your hands andd it's the cutest shit ever.

ღ Joshua:

Jisoo is similar to Jeonghan where everyone, including himself, knows he is attractive and pretty. When you tell him he is pretty just out of the blue, he will just stare at you with such adoration in his eyes and call you pretty back before giving you soft kisses. He wouldn't be one of the shy ones but he would be soft because that's just what you did to him.

ღ Jun:

Tell me why Jun would start an "I know you are but what am I" battle? I can just see you both just doing that until you are both snuggled up into each other. He'd press a soft kiss on your forehead and call you pretty and would kiss you before you could call him pretty.

ღ Hoshi:

You would be snuggling in bed in the morning and he would just be snuggling into your neck and just acting really cute. It would slip and you would just be like "Soonie you are so pretty." He would just become even more soft and blushy with you. He would kiss your face all over and soon you both would just be having a "no you" battle for rest of morning until you ended the battle with a soft makeout session. <3

ღ Wonwoo:

Wonwoo usually would be big spoon but tonight he wanted to be the one to be held so he would just be hugging you while you played with his hair. You were both in your own little world until you just found him to look so pretty. The way his eyelashes fluttered close just made your heart do jumping jacks. "Wonu~" you would whisper. "Hmm?" "You look so pretty." This would make his cheeks, ears, and neck go instantly red and he would hide into your chest or neck which would make you coo. Normally, he was the one making you bashful so it felt good to make him soft like this.

ღ Woozi:

You would just be sitting across from him with a love struck look on your face and just that look alone would make Jihoon soft. However, when he would ask "what are you looking at?" He would get all bashful when you were just like "You are pretty." He would just thank you and be extra soft for the rest of the evening lmaoooo

ღ DK:

You both would be at a cafe somewhere and just eating your food in a comfortable silence. You would look up and see Seokmin just looking so gorgeous and pretty in the lighting. You couldn't stop yourself and would just be like, "yah, Seokminnie you look so pretty right now." He would get red and look around before looking at you and whispering, "yah, you are one to talk." asdfghjkl. You both would end up in a compliment battle for rest of the day because of how down bad you both were.

ღ Mingyu:

There are many adjectives to describe Mingyu and let's be real he's heard them all. However, if he was just sitting there just like you know... existing. You would find him to look pretty especially if the light was shining just right. When you gasp and tell him he looks "pretty" he will get all shy and just be like "baby what?!" He would be all giggly like ???? omg. I'm about as soft as this pretty big bish would be bc imagine the giggles?!!?!?1

ღ Minghao:

You would be looking at Minghao's most recent photoshoot and you were FLABBERGASTED at how your perfect boyfriend could be sexy, handsome, gorgeous, beautiful, and baby at the same time. You couldn't find the best word to say so you just kept whispering how pretty he looked which would make him giggle while wrapping his arms around you. He would feel like the prettiest person ever because of you.

ღ Seungkwan: You know I could be boring and just say we've seen this happen already and just link this: x buuuut I will give y'all more~

You would be playing with Seungkwan's hair while he was telling you about his day. You would be paying attention, but not necessarily to the words he was saying. Instead, you would be staring at his lips moving as he talked. He noticed your "mhmms" were sounding similar so he looked up at your eyes and noticed you were not fully there. "So, then I tied Chan to a train track and threw tomatoes at his face," he said to see if you were paying attention. "that's nice." He scoffed before sitting up and looking at you which made you look at him confused. "(Y/N), are you listening to me?" You blushed a bit before whispering, "sorry Kwannie, I got distracted by how pretty you looked in my lap." This made him blush before giggling and laying back in your lsp. "why what did you say?"' "I said I tied Chan to a train track and threw tomatoes at his face." That made you laugh before you pressed a kiss to his nose. "If it was true, he probably deserved it." That made him laugh before pulling you back down to give you a proper kiss.

ღ Vernon:

Honestly, it takes a lot to fluster Hansol. You can say a lot of things and he will just give you a loving smile or a judgemental mock side eye. However, when it came to calling him "pretty" the man would be nothing short of flustered. He would turn bright red and would just try to throw it back at you or just tell you to shush. He honestly would eat it up if you called him pretty though. It would just make him feel so so so so good. <3

ღ Dino:

When Chan and you started dating, he never thought that you would join in on the teasing with his 'twelve useless hyungs' but here you were. He was just sitting there and you were just so attracted to the man sitting all pretty in front of you. He would cock an eyebrow up and ask if you were good. Forgetting that it was just not you two, you would just be like "Channie, you're so pretty." This would cause him to blush and those that heard to start laughing and gassing him up. "our pretty maknae," Mingyu would tease. You would mouth an apology but the damage was already done. He'd come sit by you and just kiss your cheek to let you know he wasn't mad at you and would be clingy with you for rest of the day. Truth be told, he loved when you called him pretty.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 60

part 1 | part 59 | ao3

cw: reference to canonical minor character death

Max slams the phone down, knocking her forehead against the wall. Sixteen calls in a row and still no answer. “I give up,” she sighs. “You should just go.” “Seriously?” Steve protests. “And just leave you here? Alone? After—?” After all that? He throws his hands out like an umpire calling a safe. “No. No way.” “Look, my mom will be home soon, you can’t—” “—I’m not letting you get hurt—!” “—What are you gonna do? Fight my nightmares for me?”

“Maybe I will,” Steve mutters under his breath, pissed off and replaying the conversation on repeat while he gets ready. Feels like a psycho for doing it; feels certifiably unhinged just going about his evening after everything that happened, putting on a clean shirt and choking himself in a cloud of Farrah Fawcett spray so he can go pick up the sweet-but-stupid girl named Brenda he promised to take to the game tonight; so he can go cheer in the bleachers like he didn’t almost die.

(Or like, very vividly hallucinate his own death, which... Yeah. Doesn’t feel any less horrific.)

But whatever. Max is right. Without El, there’s really nothing to do but wait. Hop’s dead, Bob’s dead, Joyce is thirty hours away. Owens is off the table, too. What’s Steve gonna do? Call the government and tell them to come nuke the boogeyman? He doesn’t have any proof. 

He also doesn’t want to freak Dustin or any of the other kids out without knowing for sure what’s going on and what, if anything, can be done about it, so...

Fuck.

Fuck!

He gets dressed; he goes out. Picks up Brenda and does his best to be nice to her even though she gets on his nerves the moment she gets into his car, and he buys them sodas at the gas station and doesn't say a word when she spills Sprite down the side of his passenger seat.

The school is packed when they show up — the crowd in high spirits, the marching band leading chants. Nancy's reporting from the sidelines, Lucas is laughing with his teammates on the bench, and Steve leads Brenda toward the bleachers and does his best not to think. Not about the graveyard, not Max, not the looming threat of cosmic terrors. Not about the fact that Eddie is somewhere in this building, probably looking all hot and menacing while he leads tonight's campaign. Probably perched on a prop throne drinking Mountain Dew from a painted chalice like a fucking dork; probably making it look sexy, anyway. Tight jeans, legs spread, an air of casual command…

Steve could go find him. He could make everyone else leave; he could get on his knees and crawl between Eddie's legs—

"Does it bother you that we might win the championship, like, right after you graduated?"

Reality comes back like a slap in the face. "Yeah, that's an excellent question, Brenda, thank you so much for bringing that up."

They get settled into their seats, and Steve wishes he were more excited when the ref throws the jump ball, but he mostly just wants to go home. ("You always want to go home," the Robin in his head reminds him, and the Robin in real life throws him a weird look when she catches him snorting to himself about it.) He's just tired. Worn down in his bones, hollowed where he thinks his marrow should be, and he's clinging to normalcy with a sort of sweaty desperation that he’s pretty sure Brenda can smell on him because the date just sucks; it’s so bland, so mutually boring and bored. He spends most of the night mouthing stupid shit at Robin or keeping a sharp eye on the court — anything to ignore his proximity to Eddie; anything to drown out his messed-up head and heart. 

When the game finally ends Brenda gets a ride to a party with some friends. Steve goes back to Dustin’s place and paces a hole into the carpet. Stays up until 3 A.M., humming a Fleetwood Mac song.

In the morning, he tells himself as he drifts into fitful sleep. 

In the morning it’ll be fine. 

In the morning Max will come by the store like she promised, and they’ll keep trying until they get ahold of El, or Owens, or someone, and that someone will know what to do and how to help.

—

In the morning the TV tells him there’s a dead girl in his house.

—

part 61

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[socialredux]

⛧ Toby Rogers & Proxy Head-cannons⛧

Hi teem, there's a lack of Creepypasta content on tumblr lately. Expect a lot of Ticci Toby stuff from me :D I'll probably do requests in the near future. I don't usually write so this might suck and be in weird perspectives. I got way to much time on my hands so enjoyyy

Here's your NSFW warning

I don't see many people talk about the type of music he'd enjoy. Emo music comes up a lot but I feel like Toby would enjoy more brutal music. He is a murder after all. Some sub-genres include goregrind, slam metal, and brutal death metal. Bands like Devourment, Peelingflesh, Kraanium, and dystopia would totally be up this fuckers alley

Toby would talk you through it in german lmfaoo

I feel like Toby would survive on Redbull and Monsters. He's constantly having to do proxy work and needs a way to keep up. Probably would have severe crashes tho

Going back to music he'd have something like a record player, any money he could spare he'd buy records of his favorite artists.

This mf is a certified geeker if his tics are particularly bad he'd smoke up to ease the tension. None of the other proxies like smoking weed as much as Toby.

Toby has a pretty high sex drive but would be sexually frustrated. This is due to not being able to get close to anyone long enough to actually have sex. So when he actually gets with you, be ready for some rough kinky shit. This doesn't mean he wouldn't be romantic and sensual at times

Probably smells earthy like pine but also kind of musky?? Don't get me wrong he'd realistically stink a lot of the time but him all cleaned up would leave a lingering smell of fresh forest pine

This is includes Tim and Brian but they'd for sure be living in the Pacific Northwest, probably somewhere in Washington. They'd feel a need to get out of Alabama to continue their work, and what better foresty place than the PNW. Spooky shit happens out here

HE'D HAVE FACE PIERCINGS. I've seen him drawn with snake bites and that is SO TRUE. He'd have his both of his eyebrows pierced and probably a septum ;)

That's all, more on the way soon.

[icarusredwings]

Scent. 1/2

Sfw, Primal scenting, established poolverine, countryside comedy, angst, and fluff. Wade gets smothered in front of the fireplace by a big domestic wolverine because of his self-confidence issues.

Post Save a horse/Ride a wolverine

Requested by @asaturnerofficial

Somewhere in Texas, On a small plot ranch with only a handful of chickens and 2 horses. One is a pony, actually. Her name was Buttercream, and she used to do kids' parties. She just kinda came with the house, and so did the chickens, but Cupcake (who was, in fact, a gelding, named by Wade) was bought off a different rancher who claimed he couldn't be ridden. Well- that was apparently a huge lie because Cup allowed him to ride him every now and again. Maybe it was a scent thing.

Actually, Scent was very important in this house, and it was something Logan checked each night before bed. Sniff around the property and shoo off any animals that didn't belong. He didn't mind the Co-yotes they just were trying to live as much as anything else, but it made him nervous to think about what they might do to the chickens or hell - to Mary Puppins. They would eat her for a snack and still be peckish.

"Alright, I fed the chickens, fed buttercream cupcake, fed puppins, now what do- Woah! Jesus's mother, Mary Magdalene!"

He had just walked into the living room to see Logan laid out on a rug in nothing but his iconic wife beater, some worn in-in all the right places- jeans, and his boots. He had got the fire place working I guess because there it was, heating up the home.

"I dont think its really a good idea to have a fire place inside of house made of wood but what do I know? Im not OSHA certified." He said, of course, to the wall.

Rolling his eyes, Logan was far used to this by now, chuckling a bit. "I got it workin' "

"Yeah I see. I was just talking about that."

"I saw. Who are you talking to anyway?" For once this question was genuine instead of condescending.

"Oh, you know. The viewers. Readers. Whatever you wanna call them." Again, he turns and waves. "Hi. Also- where did he get a bear skin rug? This guy. Ruining the budget. Do you know how expensive bears are?"

Having seen this a billion times, he's learned to just go with it. "Viewers...? Like.. a reality tv show?"

"Kind of. And let me just say, This?" He put his hands out like he was taking a picture. "Is beautiful. You're going to make the ratings sky rocket! Think of what this will do for your PR!"

"Right.. well. I hate to break the.. viewers.. little hearts but this isn't a bear skin. What bears do you know that have black and white spots?"

"Pandas."

Blinking, He sat up. "Wade, this is the middle of texas. Where do you think im going to find a panda?"

"The zoo." He shrugs, watching his boyfriend laugh at him, rolling his eyes.

"So you think the zoo is just going to let me take one of their pandas and skin it for my livingroom?"

"Oh. Yeah, that's a bit of a streach for the budget, isn't it? What is it then?- GAASSP- Don't tell me it's puppies!!"

"What?" (He's found himself saying this about 50 times a day now when living with him, possibly 100) "It's cow.."

"Oooh! Okay- that would have been a deal breaker. I can deal with skinning an endangered species, but I draw the line at Cruella activities."

"So are you just gonna keep talking to that wall, or are you gonna come're?" He muttered, smirking some as he made a small squeal, rushing over to sit down.

The scent of cheap dollar store foundation made him cringe, his mood and demeter changing instantly. "What did I tell you about wearin' that shit.."

Tensing up, he smiled awkwardly, putting his hands in his lap as he looked away. "It's the 21st century, Wolvie, Men wear make up now."

"No. You know damn well that's not what I meant. Come here." Before he could even begin to protest, he grabbed him by the belt, a signature, pulling him into his arms only to flip him on the floor.

"Eeehh!! Peanut, seriously, it's fine! It's just makeup! I didn't even put my mascara on!"

"Im taking that shit off of you. It stinks!" He growled, now straddling him on top of the soft cow rug.

Squirming a bit, Wade was trying to push him off but it was hard to do that when your boyfriend was so heavy, having just started to get back to a healthy weight, healing his relationship with food and his appearance. It only reminded him how much he loved having him. Oh, his big beefy boy. Usually, he would enjoy being manhandled, but he worked hard on his blending today!

"Noo! Do you know how hard it is to cover all THIS up!?"

"Exactly my point. That's why it's coming off. It doesn't NEED covered up, moron!" Pulling off his shirt, both the view and the words put Wade into somewhat of a dormant state.

"You really mean th- Ahh!! Hey! No! You tricked me with nice words!" He protested as he used the shirt to wipe it off, spitting on it and rubbing cirlces to get it off of him. It was times like these when Wade realized that Logan COULD actually hurt him if he wanted too. Then again.. Trapped under a bronzed muscly man like him?

Glory, glory, what a hell of a way to die!

"What are you talking about?"

Oh shit- he hadn't noticed that he said this out loud. "Nothing!! I just - Why do you always have to ruin my makeup!? What are you jealous or something?" He turned to the side, away from him. "Oh, let's be honest. It would be a crime to cover up that face."

"I could say the same thing about you, Bub." He muttered, wiping off the last bit off his neck, holding it as he leaned down to sniff him, still cringing.

"Gross."

This word alone was enough to audibly hear Wade's heart snap. Swallowing as his throat tightened and put his arms over his face.

Oh shit.. that wasn't the best of word to say, was it? God, why was this so hard? This is why he grunted instead of spoke. Words were too complicated.

A pang in his chest ran deep, his own heart clenching as he heard him whimper.

"That's.. That's why I do it.."

"Oh, Wade.." You'd have to be deaf to not hear the tears in his voice, visibly upset and nowhere to run off too, nothing to hide with. He was trapped. The next option was to push him away, Hit him in the chest so he'd let go. Know that he was done playing. That this was serious.

"You know that! So W-why would you -"

He kissed him, holding both sides of his face. Despite the pushing still lasting, it quickly died down as he wrapped his arms around his neck.

Pulling away only when the air in their lungs ran out, He smirked again, breaths heavy.

"Now, if I thought you were so terrible, would I do that? Hm?"

"Y-yes.."

So he kissed him again, this time giving a little growl into it the way he liked it, causing him to giggle and push his face away, turning again.

"Who is this starving man? Where is my wolverine?"

"Right here, baby. All me." He says, looking to where he was too.

"Hey, you can't talk to them! They're mine!"

"Too bad. So what's the census? My PR or what ever you call it up yet?"

"I don't know.."

"Oh sure, you do. It's your show, isn't it?" He asks, turning him to look at him as he crosses his arms, looking away again, still upset with him.

"... It's our show, actually...Deadpool AND Wolverine... sometimes featuring Dogpool, but that's besides the point! Im thinking about cutting you... you're taking up too much budget."

"Oh, am I now? Well, maybe you'd have more budget if you ditched that stinky shit."

Wade went silent for a moment, stalling to tell him what Logan already knew.

"Ooh... Ratings drop when you're you... don't they?" Right. That made so much more sense. Wilson has taken his own negative thoughts and categorized them into show manager and critic positions. And the critics didn't like him bare faced.

"Well... What if we raised ratings or whatever way up? Without all that bullcrap?"

"Do you know how hard it would be to-"

A third kiss.

"You really should learn to shut up, mouth."

[priniya]

hii can i request jameson hawthorne x fem reader who is kind of like his aunts or grandfathers intern? ans j like them w a super flirty relationship and tension. ty!!

˗ˏ` INTERNSHIP! 🎞️ ´ˎ˗

pairing. jameson hawthorne x intern!reader

summary. jameson’s life seems to get undeniably more boring than ever and alisa comes with a rescue.

author’s note. i LOVE jameson hawthorne. i felt like i needed to say that. idk if this is flirty enough but i hope u like it <3 thank u so much for the req, i love my boyfriend 🫶 not proofread! i wrote it at night so might be lots of typos or grammar mistakes 👎👎

EVERYTHING WAS BORING, college was boring, annoying grayson was boring, which truthfully made jameson feel as boring as ever. it almost felt as if his life lost its true meaning. it reached the point, where avery would poke fun at him, saying things like nana probably threw a spell on you, or look at that, jameson hawthorne has nothing to do, the world is ending, which was, well… amusing, although he couldn’t admit it.

jameson’s life was getting more and more monotonous each day and for the first time, he didn’t know what to do with it. there was no thrill, no adrenaline rushing through his veins, nothing — and as a certified middle child, he was going absolutely crazy, becoming almost insufferable. xander thought it was funny, seeing him all worked up, but not at all at the same time.

it would go on until alisa brought an intern, who — as it turned out later — was the girl he met on a trip to tuscany during his gap year. someone he had an incredible connection with, but back then, jameson didn’t want any strings attached, which… resulted in a wave of regret, because he couldn’t let himself get your name.

hawthorne could feel his throat getting dry as his eyes scanned your outfit. the light beige shirt with the top button undone, so it wouldn’t suffocate you, the pencil skirt hugging your hips and thighs, exposing your legs almost perfectly. if he was even more unhinged than he usually is, he would probably had his mouth full of foam.

what was even worse than the outfit, which made him extremely feral, was that you didn’t even flinch when alisa introduced you and your eyes fell upon him. maybe he was wrong and mistook you for the tuscany girl? maybe you were just a random girl, who looked incredibly attractive in her work attire, that looked extremely similar to other girl he met in italy? so many questions, yet so little answers.

a long sigh has left your lips, the second you ran your face with cold water. of course, your luck had to bring you to the house of the guy you spent the best month of your life with. how was that even possible? neither of you had ever believed in the ‘we’ll meet again if we’re meant to be’ type of thing. you always said that life is made by coincidences, nothing is ever planned for you beforehand and as long as you’ve the money, no one will care what you’re doing. but here you were, in his house, wearing pieces of clothing you wouldn’t wear if you knew, feeling like a crap from pulling an all nighter the night before.

jameson winchester hawthorne has looked as good as you remembered him. dark, velvet dress shirt embracing his toned stomach and muscular arms that once (or twice) were wrapped around you. though, after all this time, he still wore the rings you bought him, which made your heart race.

you genuinely thought that the racing of your heart would stop after some time, especially since the internship at mcnamara, oren and jones had you spending an excruciating amount of time in the hawthorne house with jameson always being somewhere around. he’d often find you in the hallway, hardly ever exchanging more than few words, though always making sure to brush against your skin slightly.

“you’re agitating.” you muttered, when his back leaned against the counter, while you were fixing yourself a coffee, which unlike at the company, was truly amazing. “don’t have anything better to do?”

“c’mon, yn.” he sighed almost playfully, rolling his eyes at you. “can’t even crack a smile for me?” jameson’s tone coated your mind, sending a warm wave to your cheeks. it was the most thrilling thing to him these last couple weeks. seeing you get so flustered over the smallest act gave him the same feeling like when he cliff dived.

“i’m working, jameson.” the way his name rolled off your tongue made him smile. “it’s not tuscany. i need to get stuff done.”

“you remember tuscany, huh?”

this man was driving you insane. the way he smirked at you, the way his words had such an effect on you, the way he always knew what to say to make you flustered. “you’re such an idiot.” was all you said about his last comment, rolling your eyes at him as you noticed the red lipstick stain on the white mug.

YOU COULDN’T REALLY PINPOINT THE MOMENT when the strictly–formal conversations with the hawthorne brothers and grambs sisters became so casual. you couldn’t wait for the hawthorne days as you called them, when you could leave the bureau and the paperwork to join alisa with whatever she was doing there. most of the time, xander would steal you away to ask you the stupidest questions about law enforcement and law in general just to leave you fifteen minutes later.

as much as you tried to push jameson away to not raise any suspicions of the history you had, he was irresistible. always making sure to tease you in some kind of way. unfortunately or not, you started caving in, just like he predicted.

before you know it, your thighs were met with the cold surface of the bathroom counter in some fancy restaurant, the fabric of your emerald silky dress has ridden up as jameson pushed his right hand up your thigh, the left one squeezed your waist. his lips were pressed against yours, moving with a rough, possessive manner. some would say it was the tense atmosphere building up, when he couldn’t get you where he wanted.

and in that exact day, exact moment, jameson had you right when he wanted. it was a casual hangout, just him, his brothers, libby, avery and her friend, who also happened to be soon to–be–girlfriend of his youngest brother. but to jameson’s pleasure, everyone grew so fond of you that avery suggested you should go with them.

the theme was comfort, but elegant. so, the outfit of your choice was the silky dress that was accompanied by the necklace you got back in italy. the first words that came out of jameson’s mouth was a stutter. the sight of you made him stumble over the sentence he tried to make.

“you look — so amazing.” he groaned as his lips made a trail down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, when his teeth had bitten the sweet spot right above your collarbone. “so fucking gorgeous.” the chain of praises was never ending.

your hands got on the collar of his shirt, gripping it as he continued to leave marks on your collarbones and shoulders. as much as you enjoyed his actions, you missed the feeling of his lips on yours. you pulled him up, hungrily crashing your mouth into his.

fifteen minutes later, the red lipstick was nowhere to be found on your face. on the other hand, there were lots of it on jameson. you were still sitting on the marble counter, legs wrapped around hawthorne’s hips. his mood was definitely better as he was zipping up your dress.

“a quickie in the bathroom, when did you turn so naughty, hm?” a chuckle escaped mouth as he watched you wipe the excess of your lipstick off his chin and bottom lip. “i met this cute guy during my vacation in europe. a real charmer.” you replied with a smirk, fixing the lacy strings of the dress as you jumped off the counter.

your chest was touching his, but neither of you moved away. you were still a little breathless from the unexpected activity and to be completely honest, it wasn’t enough — just looking at his stupid, handsome face made you crave him even more. you weren’t the only one though, considering that hawthorne couldn’t take his hands off of you as he brought one to your chin, tilting it upwards to have an easy access to kiss you again.

an involuntary grin hovered over your lips as his fingers brushed your cheek in a tender manner, before fixing his messy hair and leaving the bathroom. he closed the door just to open it again to wink at you and leave to get back to his siblings.

YOU COULD TELL that everyone already knew about the tiny thing going on between you and jameson. nevertheless, pretending like it wasn’t true was easier than admitting it. as long as alisa wasn’t asking any questions or forbidding you from showing up to the hawthorne house, you didn’t really care.

it was early, maybe even too early for your liking, when the alarm in your phone went off, earning a hoarse, incoherent groan from jameson, whose arm only tightened around your naked body. the only things covering you from flashing someone accidentally were the white sheets that kept you warm at night.

“turn it off.” another groan escaped his throat. he knew what this meant, it was five o’clock and you had to get to your dorm to get ready for the bureaucratic nightmare, as he liked to call it, at the law firm, which always handled all his familial issues. “gorgeous, there are lots of your stuff here, just go back to sleep. you can get ready here.”

“i can’t.” you replied, planting a few sweet kisses on his bare shoulder. “everyone will know i was here if i left later.” you added, your voice soft. your fingernails gently scratching the back of his neck.

“you act like they don’t know already.” you could swear he just laughed, his sleepy demeanour made him even more attractice at this point. “sorry to break it to you, gorg, but once you start, you forget all about quietness.” ironically, this shut you up immediately, red already spreading all over your cheeks.

“you know what’s funny?” a question rolled off his tongue, catching your interest, even though you couldn’t quite make out his words as his face was buried in the white pillow. “xander texted me to ask you to moan a few decibels less.”

“oh god, i am never leaving this room again.” you said embarrassed, hiding your face in hawthorne’s arm.

“i like that idea.” he laughed, pulling you even closer, shifting a little to shut your phone off completely. “make it my early christmas gift.”

[babyleostuff]

hi! how are you doing? i hope you’re having a great day :> can i please request boyfriend joshua? ty🤍🤍

hope you have a great day as well! here is your joshua request <3

JOSHUA AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

genre | a lot of fluff

author's note | if you want me to write this with any other member that I haven't done yet, let me know <3

𓆩♡𓆪 certified husband material (shocker)

𓆩♡𓆪 you doesn’t even have to ask him, he’ll help you with your chores either way 

𓆩♡𓆪 and if you’re sick or unwell, he doesn’t let you leave the bed and does all the chores by himself, not letting you lift a single finger 

𓆩♡𓆪 he loves cooking for you, but most importantly he loves cooking WITH you 

𓆩♡𓆪 it’s one of his favourite ways of spending time with you - being domestic together 

𓆩♡𓆪 because despite all of the hustle and bustle due to his job, he has you by his side to keep him sane 

𓆩♡𓆪 is the softest with you, he always has this little smile on his face when looking at you 

𓆩♡𓆪 never raises his voice at you, not matter how angry or annoyed he his (he can’t even imagine raising his voice at you)

𓆩♡𓆪 he just doesn’t see the point in screaming at each other and having big fights, when you can simply talk things out like normal human beings  

𓆩♡𓆪 he would rather spend his time loving you and spending quality time, than having screaming matches 

𓆩♡𓆪 always has his arm around your shoulders or around your waist, when you’re in big crowds of people 

𓆩♡𓆪 Joshua wants you to feel safe with him and he won’t risk losing you

𓆩♡𓆪 usually his go to type of affection is hand holding 

𓆩♡𓆪 it’s low-key and not that noticeable, but you are still next to each other, holding each other close 

𓆩♡𓆪 and he can gently run his thumb across your knuckles 

𓆩♡𓆪 he also loves to give and receive cheek kisses 

𓆩♡𓆪 you just woke up? Cheek kiss. You have to leave for work? Cheek kiss. You visit him at the company? Cheek kiss

𓆩♡𓆪 gets quite shy when you kiss him though, but it only makes him even more adorable 

𓆩♡𓆪 even though he is not the most affectionate person out there, he never declines your affection

𓆩♡𓆪 if you come up to him and hug him, he always hugs you back. If you kiss him on the cheek, he always kisses you back. If you sit next to him on the sofa and put your hand on his thigh, he covers your hand with his

𓆩♡𓆪 he wouldn’t allow you to think that you’re clingy or “too much”

𓆩♡𓆪 always gives you his jackets, when he notices that you’re cold 

𓆩♡𓆪 even if you decline, he will find a way to give it to you 

𓆩♡𓆪 one of the few people (except for the boys) whom he feels like he can be his true, dorky self 

𓆩♡𓆪 does the most random and questionable things out of the blue 

𓆩♡𓆪 and even though most of the people would be like ???, you always join him in his silly actions 

𓆩♡𓆪 that’s one of the reasons why he fell so hard for you 

𓆩♡𓆪 you never judge him for his behaviour and character, you accept every part of him

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re the couple that people turn to when they need advice or guidance 

𓆩♡𓆪 because despite you’re goofy nature, you’re also very mature and you are the best with balancing those traits 

𓆩♡𓆪 so you are like the therapist couple, even though 90% of the time you’re not really sure what you are doing 

𓆩♡𓆪 Joshua always adds “but I don’t really know, though” at the end, just in case 

𓆩♡𓆪 you become his passenger princess, period

𓆩♡𓆪 drives you anywhere you want, no matter how much you convince him that you can drive alone (except for when you REALLY want to drive somewhere, he will let you do that of course)

𓆩♡𓆪 being part of the vocal unit obliges him to sing to you before bedtime (not that you mind)

𓆩♡𓆪 sings you “Sunday Morning” if you’re in a bad mood, because he knows it always makes you laugh when he sings it 

𓆩♡𓆪 will make a goof of himself to see you laugh or even smile 

𓆩♡𓆪 because there is nothing more precious to him than your smile and happiness 

𓆩♡𓆪 a bit cliche, but I feel like he’s the type to pull you by your waist and start dancing in your kitchen at 2 am

𓆩♡𓆪 you rest your head on his chest or shoulder, while he has one of his hands stroking your head and the other on your waist 

𓆩♡𓆪 while soft tunes of your favourite tracks play in the background 

𓆩♡𓆪 and it’s all illuminated by the moonlight 

𓆩♡𓆪 (a girl can wish)

𓆩♡𓆪 will always make you feel like you’re the most special person on the planet

your messages <3

[tomriddleslove]

Pt 3 - Always.

Theodore Nott x Reader

Pt 2 here

Summary: The one where the anticipated week long holiday between the friendship group turns into a certified nightmare. Alternatively: You accidentally end up rooming with Theodore.

A/N: WE’VE ENTERED THE HOLIDAY PART AND I CANT WAIT FOR WHERE THIS IS GOING TO GO WOOOOHHH

I promise the angst will eventually subside (eventually.)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Songs: I know you - Faye Webster

I wait for you - Alex G

By some miracle, you had all managed to get through the weeks leading up to the summer holidays and were due to travel to Pansy’s family home today. The monotony of pouring over books, frantically rummaging through essays you had written on scrolls of parchment looking for your notes had finally paid off, and exams were done. Pansy had been raving on and on about just how beautiful the quaint villa was (which seemed to be a bit of a juxtaposition) , and how they'd all have a great time. Whilst you did look forward to it, you were reminded of who would be there.

Theodore.

After that conversation in the library, things had gone from worse to even worse. In some cruel twist of fate, you seemed to see Theodore everywhere now, yet his increased presence seemed only to solidify just how much of a gap there was between the two of you.

Spending a week together both seemed terrifying and cruelly humorous. A kind of plot from a shitty rom-com, though you doubted it would turn out for the better.

The once lively (arguably messy) dorm room you shared with Pansy was now barren and bare, your belongings packed away as you waited for Pansy to finish…

Tapping the walls?

“Pans, what on earth are you doing?” You ask, and she continues knocking on random places on the wall, letting out a groan of frustration.

“I swear I had it hidden somewhere! I refuse to let some snotty little 6th-year find it.” She grumbles.

“What the fuck are you looking for? Maybe if you told me it would be a bit easier.” You respond exasperatedly, nearing your wits ends.

“My weed! I kept a stash hidden somewhere when we first came but I've been leeching off Enzo! Now I can't find it!” She huffs, throwing her arms up exasperatedly. You roll your eyes and resist the urge to slap her upside the back of her head.

“You idiot, I packed that away.” You snap, and she furrows her brows.

“What? When?” She says, and you begin to wonder whether you should even bother.

“Merlin Pansy, is your memory that bad? You asked me to take it.” You chide. Her look of confusion merges into a sheepish smile.

“Oh… Thanks!” She says, beaming as she slings her bag over her shoulder.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes for what feels like the umpteenth time as you lug your bags downstairs.

“Finally.” Draco proclaimed, ushering the attention of the group as they looked up to see you and Pansy descending. Blaise immediately goes over to take Pansy's suitcase, and she looks up at him with a bashful smile.

Woah.

What?

You raise a brow, a small smirk tugging at your lips. Lorenzo comes over to help you with your trunks, and he leans closer to you.

“You're seeing it too, right? Smitten with one another.” He whispers.

“Since when? She was flirting with Belby about a week or so ago.” you say, raising a brown.

“Exactly. Notice how Blaise wasn't there? He left for a reason.” Lorenzo gushes, as though you both were 12 and at a sleepover. You giggle lightly.

“Wanna bet on when they'll get together?” You offer, and Lorenzo nods.

“Easy. They're both too damn stubborn to confess so I bet it’ll be after the trip.” He says.

You let out a loud laugh, and they all turn to look at you and Lorenzo. Pansy raises a brow, but you're looking elsewhere. Theodore looks over at you, and how Lorenzo is leaning close to you. He has to tear his eyes away, and he swallows harshly.

It was incredible how one person could change your mood so quickly.

Stupid, really, just how much one person could affect you. You clear your throat and turn back to Lorenzo.

“I bet they'll get together during the trip. 5 Galleons?” You ask, holding out your hand. Lorenzo eyes you suspiciously, then shakes your hand.

“Deal.” He says, and a wicked grin graces your face.

“Great. That means I can do this then.” You say, walking over to Pansy and Blaise.

“Pans, can you be a dear for me? I want to room with Lorenzo, so can you room with Blaise instead please?” You plead.

Blaise raises a brow and Pansy looks at you with a pointed glare

You were helping her (and perhaps yourself).

“Isn’t Loren-” Blaise starts but you quickly cut him off.

“Please, pansy?” You say, your voice strained. You really wanted those 5 galleons. Pansy is nervous but somehow also, you can tell she’s excited. You're probing her onwards, and with a shy smile (Once again, so out of character for her), she accepts.

“Alright- only if you don't mind, Blaise?” She says, looking up at him.

He grins as he looks down at her and you watch the two with an amused look on your face.

Hopeless, really. You give it a day or two before they're together.

“Of course.” He agreed.

Damn, you were good. With a cheeky grin, you turn back to Lorenzo and wiggle your eyebrows. You had the win in the bag. You leave the two and walk back to Lorenzo, grinning as you approach him.

“Don't hate the player, hate the game” You brag, and Lorenzo has to suppress a smile.

“Good Job. You forgot one thing though, sweetheart. I’m sharing a room with Mattheo.” Lorenzo quips, and your expression drops.

“What? Pansy said-” You protest, and Lorenzo laughed.

“Yeah, originally I was sharing a room with Draco. But Draco demanded his own room because he refused to share and Mattheo ended up with me instead.” He continues.

It takes a second for the gears in your head to turn, and then you realise.

If there are 4 bedrooms, and Blaise and Pansy are in one, Mattheo and Lorenzo in the other, Draco on his own in the third, that leaves you and...

Theodore.

You were going to strangle the life out of the greasy blonde-haired git. Damn him and his scrawny little princess ass.

You suddenly feel very sick. Perhaps you should stay in Hogwarts. Summer with Snape sounds riveting now, doesn't it?

You take a deep breath, trying to hide your disappointment, but Lorenzo sees right through you and bursts into laughter.

"Looks like the game just got a whole lot more interesting, huh?" he teases, patting you on the back. You shoot him a mock glare, but inside, you're already plotting how you’ll get through this.

May the heavens above help you.

As you stood outside the, admittedly stunning villa, you began to wonder whether you could brave sleeping outdoors for a week. The old French villa stands gracefully amidst lush gardens and towering trees, exuding an air of timeless elegance. Its weathered façade is adorned with intricate wrought-iron balconies and climbing vines. A cobbled pathway leads to an arched entrance adorned with a rustic wooden door. The entrance is flanked by tall windows with faded shutters, each window framed by ornate carvings that add a touch of sophistication.

As you step inside, the foyer unfolds, grand and established. A winding staircase leads upwards, and you can't even begin to imagine how damn expensive this place was.

The rooms are filled with antique furniture and large windows adorned with heavy curtains that allow dappled sunlight to filter through, casting a warm glow on the Persian rugs that cover the floor.

Nevermind. You could tolerate it.

The group of you stand in the foyer, looking around.

“Well shit…” Mattheo murmurs under his breath, looking around. You agree with him. You couldn't even begin to comprehend how wealthy your friends were. It felt almost alienating, somehow. The rest of them seemed accustomed to such luxuries, it seemed only Mattheo and yourself weren't.

“Right. There are two en suites and two regular rooms. Blaise and I will have the first ensuite, and You and Theodore get the other. It's all the way on the top floor.” Pnays says, and you nod, insides churning at the reminder of having to share a room with Theodore. You don't even turn to look at him.

“How come you two get en suites?” Mattheo complains, and Pansy turns to him, rolling her eyes.

“Because you dimwit, we need privacy for changing. We can't exactly just strip naked in front of Blaise and Theodore.” Pansy pointed out, motioning between yourself and her.

You loved Pansy, you really did, but why did she have to word it like that? You groan internally, shaking your head.

“I'm sure they'll be doing it anyway..” Lorenzo mumbles to you, and you snicker as you look over at Blaise and Pansy. Agreeing to meet downstairs in an hour to order food, you all make your way up to your respective rooms.

You hurl your suitcase up the steps, hyper-aware of Theodore walking just behind you. You climb up the first set of stairs and look up. A solid three more sets to go.

What the hell? 4 floors and 4 bedrooms? What kind of architectural fuck up was this? It seemed now like you had bricks in your bag because the task of getting up those remaining three flights of stairs seemed near impossible.

You pulled out of your mini crisis embarrassingly quick as fingers brushed against yours. You spin around, spotting Theodore. He's reaching down for your bag, and he looks up, eyes meeting yours.

You hated him.

You loved him.

You loathed him.

You didn't know which one mattered more.

“Let me take it.” He offers, clearing his throat, and suddenly you've lost the ability to speak.

You nod in agreement, too caught off guard by the unexpected gesture to form coherent words. Theodore effortlessly lifts the suitcase as if it were weightless, and you watch the play of muscles beneath his shirt as he ascends the staircase with ease.

You berate yourself for being so shameless.

You follow him, trying to shake off the strange mix of emotions swirling within you. Your thoughts are a whirlwind as you reach the landing, now standing just outside the door of your shared room.

"Thanks," you manage to mumble, avoiding eye contact as Theodore sets your suitcase down inside the room. He nods in acknowledgement, his expression unreadable.

As you enter the room, you're greeted by a quaint and cosy little room. Luckily, there are two separate beds, though they are pushed together to form one larger one. You'll be sure to move them apart.

Theodore clears his throat, breaking the silence. "I guess this is our room for the trip," he remarks, a half-smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah," you reply, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The air between you two is charged with unspoken tension, and the weight of the realisation settles in. Fate, it seems, had a peculiar sense of humour.

"Listen, about earlier," Theodore starts, his gaze searching yours, but you cut him off swiftly.

“Don’t. There's nothing to talk about.” You say, brushing past him as you walk into the room. You have your back faced to him, face bright red as you begin unpacking, actions more forceful than you intended them to be.

Theodore remains silent for a moment, respecting your need for space. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you as you unpack, each movement deliberate and almost aggressive.

You hear Theodore take a deep breath behind you, and then he speaks, his voice breaking, tinged with an underlying vulnerability. "Please. Just, look at me." He pleads.

You clench your jaw, your hands gripping the edges of your suitcase. You turn around, meeting his gaze with a steely expression.

You swear your heart breaks. He’s frowning, and he looks on the verge of tears.

Stupid. This was so, so stupid.

“Look. Nothing is going on. Nothing happened, ok? I'm fine.” You say, though it's a blatant lie. You grab your sweater and book, considering pushing past him again on your way out as you speak.

You don't want to carry on like this. It hurt.

“Yeah, sure," Theodore replies, his voice now strained and forced into an artificial calm. "Nothing happened."

You want to believe it, to believe that you can bury the complicated mess of emotions that surged to the surface earlier. As you step into the hallway, you take a deep breath, plastering a fake smile on your face.

Theodore follows suit, and together you make your way downstairs to join the others. The air is thick with tension, but the group seems oblivious, immersed in arguments over food.

Pansy looks at you curiously, her keen eyes noting the shift in dynamics, but she chooses not to pry. Blaise seems absorbed in his thoughts, Lorenzo is engaged in animated conversation with Mattheo, and Draco appears indifferent to the subtle changes in the atmosphere.

No one notices anything, and you're very convinced it's because nothing really existed in the first place. You walk over to where Matteho is sitting on the sofa and take a seat next to him. He wraps an arm around you, drawing you in close as he continues speaking to Lorenzo.

“Hey, stimp.” Mattheo says, rubbing your arm as he looks down at you.

Sidenote: The nickname stimp originated from when Pansy had gone through a phase of calling everyone ‘stink’. You had no idea what she was saying and thought she was calling everyone stimp. You were relentlessly tormented by the group for thinking so, and it's stuck since then (courtesy of Mattheo.)

“Hey.” You mumble into his chest. He chuckles, fiddling with your hair lightly as he goes back to his conversation with Lorenzo.

Your mind (as it so often did) lingers back to Theodore. Your stomach aches because of it.

He's a tempest, a tempest that lingers in the recesses of your soul, tearing through the tranquillity with an unrelenting force.

You're weary, though these past few days with Theodore have made you constantly feel that way. You become tuned out from the conversations of your friends, feeling oddly like a spectator.

Your eyes grow heavy, and whether it's to your dismay or relief, you fall asleep with Theodore on your mind.

You could have sworn you fell asleep in the living room, curled into Mattheo. So when your eyes flicker open, and you're blinking wearily, sitting up in your bed, you're heavily disoriented.

A sleepy groan escapes your lips as you gingerly sit up, looking around. Theodore is lying in his bed, and you're very quickly aware of the fact that he separated them.

His eyes flicker over to yours at the sound of you stirring, a book loosely held in his hands.

Your eyes flicker down to the cover of the book and you're surprised at how quickly you feel sick again. It was getting rather tiring, really.

How long was he reading for? Was he thinking of you as he read? Did he read and look over at you?

“I saved some food for you.” He says after a beat. He looks at you, as though he wants to say more, and you see the conflict in his mind. He looks back down, and you feel slightly disappointed.

“Thanks.” You croak quietly, gingerly slipping out of bed. You sit on the edge for a second, back facing Theodore as you orient yourself for a bit before you slide on some slippers. You yawn and get up, tossing the covers back as you make your way downstairs. You blindly grope the walls as you warily descend the stairs in the pitch-black darkness, praying you didn't send yourself tumbling down.

Your fingers brush against a light switch and you let out a small sigh of relief as you flick the lights on.

God, how late was it?

You finally manage to stumble into the kitchen, the warm lights illuminating the otherwise barren place. The house is silent, and you assume it must be very late, judging by the way your friends (who almost exclusively lived between the hours of 11:00 - 02:00) were not awake. You shouldn't be eating at this time, especially because you planned to sleep right after, but you were starving and hadn't eaten prior.

You open what you assume to be the fridge (because god forbid rich people be like the rest of us and have normal-looking things), and see two small containers and a pizza box. You're impressed Draco (who though incredibly slender seemed to have the appetite of a growing giant) hadn't eaten it yet. You open the pizza box first and feel immediately better when you see the order. It's exactly what you like, there's garlic butter on the crust, and olives on every slice. There are tomatoes but it's on the side because you hate cooked tomatoes, and there's your favourite sauce as well (Blaise almost cried bloody murder when he saw you dipping your pizza in mayo a few years ago. You swore it was good.)

With a small smile on your face, you peer into the other two containers. One is full of strawberries, and your mouth waters.

You absolutely adored strawberries, and these looked plump and fresh, a far cry from the sad little things you'd get in Hogsmeade, on rare occasions. You can't resist biting into one and letting out a small groan of satisfaction as you do.

This had to be what heaven felt like, surely. You swore these alone could make you ascend. You pull out the container and snack on some, looking up as you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Pansy yawns as she saunters into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. She's evidently sleepy, reaching for a glass of water as she speaks.

“You're finally up.” She mumbles groggily, leaning against the counter.

You nod.

“Woke up a few minutes ago. Thank you for ordering some pizza for me. You got it spot on.” You say with a small smile, and Pansy dismisses you with a small flick of her hand, as she sets the glass down.

“Oh no no, it wasn't me. We all ordered some sushi because Blaise knew a place. Theodore went out and got all that for you. He disappeared for like three bloody hours and we thought he got kidnapped or something. Turns out it’s very hard to find a good pizza place here.” Pansy says.

You blink in surprise at Pansy’s revelation. You have to stop yourself from dropping your jaw because you couldn't deal with her question right now, especially because…

What the fuck?

Why? How?

Why?

You can barely comprehend Theodore could remember all those things about you. Little things that you yourself wouldn't even notice. By the looks of it even your closest friend, Pansy, didn't even know that.

He went out of his way to get that for you?

It's an odd mixture of emotions — appreciation, confusion, and a tinge of frustration. Frustration because he was being so damn confusing. Ignoring you but then knowing everything about you. Not talking to you and then confessing he's been searching for you in everything he does. Remaining distant but doing things that made your heart flutter and guilt flood your being.

Pansy is watching you intently, ever observant. She gives you a once over, eyebrows furrowing ever so lightly.

“Night then.” She says, turning back to go to her room.

Even Pansy, who was ever known for being careless and prying, knew right now that this was something that went so much further than her best friend having a silly crush on someone. She didn’t need to know the history between you and Theodore to know this was something serious, and her reserved and understanding behaviour only seemed to scare you more. You remain staring off for a second as she retreats before you close the container, slipping it back into the fridge

(You'd hex Draco's teeth onto his toes if he dared to touch them.)

You make your way back up to your room, and by the time you enter Theodore is no longer reading, rather he's asleep in his bed.

His bedside lamp is off, but yours is on. You look at him for a second, and you're grateful that he's asleep because you didn't know what to say, or how to face him. You quietly retreat into the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth before slipping back into the bedroom. You slip under the covers of your bed, tugging the blanket over you as you sink into the infuriatingly comfy mattress (How you'd be able to find sleep again back at Hogwarts after this, you never knew. This made your dorm bed feel like you were sleeping on a slab of concrete. If this home isn't being used by Pansy and her family till the holiday, you seriously considered breaking in and living here in the meantime.)

You and Theo are sleeping on opposite sides of the room, backs facing away from one another. Your bed is facing the window, which you're glad about because you couldn't sleep otherwise. A small voice in your mind questions if that was Theodore’s doing as well.

The silence is broken as you speak, words you only dare to utter because Theodore is asleep.

“Thank you.” You whisper, quietly.

Silence follows, and you let out a small breath because, of course, there's silence, Theodore is asleep. You find your own eyes drifting shut very quickly, slipping away into sleep.

You feel as though you're sinking, and you can't tell if it's because you're tired or spiralling.

In the quiet darkness, you find yourself teetering on the cusp of sleep. You're in that nearly there phase, where you feel simultaneously weightless and heavy. You're half-conscious, dreams blurring the line of reality. You're drifting away, and you swear you hear a whisper, gentle and barely audible in a voice that sounds very similar to Theodore.

"Always."

@camille-1019

[atinylittlepain]

Vaya Con Dio

Dio Morrissey x f!reader

Dio thinks he's got her all figured out, but she's got a few tricks up her cashmere sleeve.

wordcount: 3K

story playlist (which I highly recommend listening to while reading)

warnings | 18+ *smacks fic like a car salesman* this bad boy can fit so much depravity in it. SMUT, kinda angst? pegging, duh

a/n | Dio Morrissey - if you don't know him, get to know him, law and order, babes, he's my new favorite freak ;)

.......................................

It’s too easy, really. He has it down to a science. The library on fifth is the best for this, being so close to the NYU campus. Smart girls, but not too smart, not smart enough to get into Columbia. And good girls, studying in the stacks on a Wednesday afternoon, pulling their little cashmere cardigans bought by daddy closer around their shoulders. Dio gets to kill two birds with one stone this way, brushing up on his important literature (he’s really into Scientology these days) and finding a pretty little thing to take home for his dinner. 

Today is no different. He’s got his eyes set on a baby pink sweater set, and a cute little headband that matches, plush lips wrapped around the eraser of a pencil, brow furrowed in concentration over whatever she’s working on. Showtime.

He sits down in the seat next to hers, nothing more than a glance his way before she focuses back on her textbook. It’s a script by now, certified. He watches the clock, aimlessly flipping through a book, waiting the requisite five minutes before sitting back with a huff, slamming his book shut with a dull thud.​​ That gets her attention, winged-eyeliner focused on him now.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. It’s just– your aura– it's mesmerizing to me.” A little quirk of a lip-glossed smile is all he needs to know that he’s got her, leaning closer on his elbows to hear her response.

“Does that line work on other girls?” Kitty’s got claws. He can work with that. 

“What? You don’t think I mean it? How you wound me, pretty girl. You see, I have a good feel for these things. I’m drawn to beauty, to pureness. I just couldn’t help myself when I saw you, I had to come talk to you.”  Her eyes narrow at him as she lets out a breathy giggle, shaking her head lightly at his words. Got her. He slings his arm over the back of her chair, leaning in real close, letting his lips crook up like he’s got the most delicious secret to tell her.

“Do you wanna get out of here? Go somewhere a little more, mm, cozy, so we can really talk? I’d like to get to know you better.” Her perfect french manicure twists around her pencil as she bites down on her lip, and he doesn’t even need to hear her speak to know what her answer is.

…

“This is me, home sweet home, or something like that.” He grins, all teeth, as she ducks under his arm and into his shitty little apartment. He doesn’t have much, just a futon and a pile of clothes, some books, a stove that works half the time. But he doesn’t care about possessions like all the sheep. Besides, chicks dig it, it adds to the whole effect.

Her heels click on the peeling linoleum floor, spinning in a slow circle as she takes in the space before her wide eyes finally settle back on him. 

“Come get comfortable, baby. Let’s talk.” He coaxes her over to his futon, sitting down next her, his thigh pressing up against hers as he slings his arm over the back of the makeshift couch. Her eyes are focused on something behind him, and when he jerks his chin over his shoulder and sees that she’s looking at his bong propped next to the futon, he grins. 

“You want a hit, pretty girl? I’m happy to share.” He’s already reaching for it along with his lighter as she answers him.

“Oh, um, sure. Actually I was looking at what’s laying next to that, but I’ll take a hit.” When he realizes what she’s referring to, the dark purple strap-on that’s haphazardly laying on the ground, he can’t help but chuckle.

“You ever seen one of those before, baby?” He revels in her wide eyes as he turns back to her, fiddling with his lighter to fix up the bong for them.

“Do you use it a lot?” 

“I enjoy partaking, yeah. Why? You looking to try it out?” Not really expecting an answer from her, he takes the first hit from the bong, his eyes not leaving hers as he lets a slow slip of smoke out of his mouth.

“Here, pretty girl, let me show you how to–” before he can even finish, she’s taking the bong and lighter out of his hands, hitting it with the deft precision of someone who has done this many times before. She blows the smoke out with a smirk, the haze directed right at his face. He hates to admit it, but it throws him off his game, just a little, though he’s quick to compose himself with a smirk of his own.

“Well, well, aren’t you just full of surprises? You do a lot of this in coll–” She’s surprising him again, setting the bong on the floor before straddling his thighs, her little mini-skirt bunching up at her hips. Her hand cups his cheek, a soft touch that he can’t help but lean into, his own hands resting on her thighs. But as she slips her fingers back into his hair, her light touch turns hard all at once, nails grazing his scalp as she tugs his head back, pressing a kiss to his bobbing throat. 

“You know, baby, I’m not really interested in doing any more talking.” This is a first for him, and it’s not that he minds exactly, but he did have a whole routine ready for her, and she just stepped all over it with her pretty pink kitten heels. But he doesn’t have much time to get pissy about it, not when she’s tugging him by his hair into a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and sticky-sweet lip gloss. 

…

It’s too easy, really. She has it down to a science. Boys like this, who think they have the whole world figured out and wrapped around their black nail-polished fingers, are her favorite. She knows how unassuming she looks, and she knows what they think of her. Innocence lost, an easy target, something sugary sweet to sink their teeth into. She revels in proving them wrong.

“Dio– that’s not your real name, is it, baby? Why don’t you be a good boy and tell me your real name?” She tugs him back by the hair at the nape of his neck, his eyes wide and dark as he looks at her, mouth agape and spit-slick, remnants of her lip gloss smeared glittery on his lips. His Adam's apple bobs, fingers flexing where his hands are curled on her hips. She’s got him surprised, guard down, mind swimming in her shocking sour-sweetness. She’s got him right where she wants him.

“It’s– it’s Shane. My name is Shane.” Not so tough now, are you? She grins, leaning in and letting her lips just graze over his, tongue flickering out over his top lip.

“Shane, you wanna have some fun together?” 

“Mmhmm, yeah, I– yes.” She has to giggle at his frantic answer, the jerky nod of his head, and she pulls him in for another hard kiss, licking into his mouth as she grinds her hips down on his already prominent bulge. She pulls away just as fast though, dragging his bottom lip between her teeth before letting it snap back in place, getting up off his lap to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips.

“Why don’t you take your clothes off for me, pretty boy?” He doesn’t need to be asked twice, shrugging out of his leather duster jacket, standing up in just his black wife beater and chains, making quick work of his belt, toeing off his boots and shucking off his pants, all the while keeping his eyes glued to her, lips parted and dazed.

“You can leave the hardware on, baby, silver suits you.” He gets what she means, nodding and tugging his tank top over his head but leaving his chains, a nervous little smile quirking his mouth as she steps forward and shoves him back down onto the futon. 

When she straddles his hips again, there’s a whole lot less fabric separating her throbbing core and his obvious hardness, grinding the damp cotton of her panties down over the bulge in his boxers. He lets out a low groan when she swirls her hips, the sound getting stuck in his throat when she licks a hot stripe up the strong slope of his neck. 

“Fuck, you’re– you’re unreal.” 

“Oh, Shaney, I assure you I’m very real.” They’re so predictable, you’d think she’d be bored of this particular flavor by now. But she can’t help herself, there’s just something too good, too delicious, about putting a guy like this in his place. She pulls him into another kiss, yanking him in by his chains as she coaxes him to lay out on the futon. When his hands start to tug at her sweater, however, she’s quick to pull away.

“Ah-ah, what do you want, baby? Use your words for me.” He’s breathless, hazy, looking up at her through pretty lashes and a furrowed brow.

“I– can you take that off?” 

“I mean, I can–” he doesn’t like that one bit, practically growling in frustration as his hands squeeze at her hips.

“Would you take it off, fucking– please?” She stifles her giggle, rubbing her palms on his chest before shrugging off her cardigan and peeling off her tank top. It’s an awkward shuffle, but he’s happy to help her as she shimmies her panties down from under her skirt, holding her steady as she lifts one knee and then the other to flick them away. 

“There, that’s better, huh, baby?” He’s trying to get the upper hand again, only answering her with a grunt as he guides her back down with a hand on the nape of her neck, tongue dipping and flickering into her mouth. But she doesn’t let him have control for long, pressing her hips down hard, her dripping cunt grinding over his boxer-covered length. He goes just slack enough at the sensation, sighing into her mouth, that she can start crawling up his torso, his dopey eyes flickering with recognition of what she wants.

“Oh, fuck yes.” As her thighs frame his face, she swings her legs around before he can pull her down to his mouth, her hands splaying out over his taut stomach as she now faces his legs.

“This ok for you, Shane?” The only answer she gets is a low rumbled mmhmm before he pulls her hips down, licking a flat stripe through her folds that catches her by surprise. She hadn’t exactly been expecting him to be good at it, but he is, he really fucking is. That perfectly arched nose of his is notching at her entrance as he slurps at her clit, and she can’t help the gasp she lets out when his teeth graze that spot, lurching forward until her hands are on the tops of his thighs. She noses at his cock through his boxers, pressing heated little kisses along his length before tugging the fabric down and oh, he’s pretty everywhere. Flushed pink, thick enough to set spit pooling in her mouth, a cute little curve to him that she traces with the pads of her fingers, his groans thrumming through her cunt. 

When she does take him into her mouth, the moan he lets out into her core makes her dizzy, coaxing her to take more and more of him until there’s a stretching ache in her jaw. He seems just as encouraged, pulling her hips down harder, his palms kneading and groping at her ass as he alternates between licking into her and dragging his tongue over her clit. The only sounds are their equally salacious mouths, spit-slick gasps and moans that are sending her over the edge before she can even clock it, her cunt spasming around nothing as he licks her through it. While her hips jerk in his hold, trying to get away from the sensitivity, he only firms up his fingers on her ass, continuing to lap at her through the aftershocks as she can only meekly kitten lick his throbbing cock. But then her eyes focus on something laying next to the futon, something dark purple, and she nearly kicks him in the head, wriggling out of his grip and turning around to look at him. 

“Wait, I wanna do something else with you, Shaney.” He’s an obscene vision looking up at her, lips swollen and glistening with her, chest heaving, pupils blown wide as he nods jerkily. She grins, reaching behind them to pick up the strap-on.

“Where do you keep your lube, baby?” 

It isn’t much longer after asking that question that she stands before him, adjusting the straps of the harness around her hips as he clutches the bottle of lube in his hands, knuckles white as he watches her. 

“You–you’ve done this before?” She smirks at him, stepping forward and tilting his chin up with her fingers, pouting her lips as she tilts her head at him.

“What? Is it so hard to believe that I know how to have fun too? Don’t worry, Shaney, I’m gonna take such good care of you. Now why don’t you be a good boy and get my dick ready for you.” 

“Fuck, that’s hot–” He seems to be saying it absentmindedly, murmuring it to himself as he uncaps the bottle of lube, squirting some into his hand before slicking it up and down her plastic length. It’s such a power trip, standing over him as he strokes her fake dick, dark eyes looking up at her all the while. 

“That’s good, baby, thank you. You wanna get on your hands and knees for me?” He moves in a flash, and she has to admit, she likes a man so responsive to orders. She kneels behind him, bringing a palm to his low back as she squirts a little more lube over his hole, giggling at the huff he lets out at the sensation. She notches the tip of her plastic dick at his hole, leaning over him so she can whisper in his ear as she presses her hips forward.

“There you go, baby. Gotta relax for me, huh? Gonna take care of you, just need you to open up for me. There it is. Feels good, yeah?” He whimpers, the poor boy, fingers gripping at the sheet covering the futon as she stills inside him, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. 

“Tell me when I can mo–” “Fuck me, please– I– you– just, fuck me.” She smiles into his shoulder blades, pressing a kiss there as she arcs her hips back, a sweet and slow drag that makes him groan.

“Aw, you like it slow, don’t you, baby?”

“Uh-huh, sl-slow is good– fuck, you’re good at this.” His breathless praise makes her laugh as she leans back to really work him, keeping her slow, circuitous pace as she reaches around to stroke his dick. As a matter of fact, she has done this before, many times, and she is good at it, savoring the grunted curses he lets out, his hips pressing back against hers with each thrust. 

“You gonna come for me, Shane? Gonna give me what I want?” 

“Yeah, yes– shit, just keep– keep doing that– oh my god.” She snaps her hips a little harder, a little quicker, dragging her nails down his spine before holding his waist steady to thrust into him with a little more intention than the lazy strokes she had started out with. Keeping one hand anchored on his hip, she leans forward, bringing her other palm to his throat, a suggestion of pressure, her french-tipped nails curling ever so slightly. 

“Being so good for me, baby. Want you to come for me, just like this. Can you do that for me? Be a good boy and come for me.” He lets out a whine that sort of sounds like an mmhmm, and she can just catch a glimpse over his shoulder of his scrunched-shut eyes and slack jaw.

It’s not long after that he comes with a string of punched-out curses, collapsing onto his forearms as she presses her hips against his with one final stroke. He whimpers when she pulls out, his legs splaying out as he slumps down into a puddle of his own come, resting his cheek on his forearm as he catches his breath. She’s quick to get up, slipping the harness down off her legs and stepping out of it as she walks over to his “kitchen,” filling up the one chipped glass he has at the sink and bringing it back over to him.

“Did so good for me, Shane. Here, have some water, baby.” He presses up on his elbows, eyes still scrunched shut as she coaxes a few sips out of him before setting the glass down next to the futon. He slumps back down, cheek squished against his forearm, his eyes barely opening to watch her get dressed. 

“Are you a succubus?” She glances over at him, smirking at his cute, pale ass on full display. 

“You wish, baby.” She slips her cardigan on with a satisfied sigh, stepping into her heels and grabbing her purse as well.

“Are you– you’re just gonna leave now?” He squints up at her, still laying on his stomach, his head propped up in one hand. She hums at his question, taking a quick glance at her watch, really more for effect than anything else. 

“Mmhmm, I have dinner plans. But this was fun, yeah?” His face is completely slack, lips parted in clear confusion, though she doesn’t give him much of a chance to respond, clicking her tongue and breezing over to the door.

“Wait, I don't even know your name.” 

“You don’t need to. Bye, Shane, thanks for the good time.”

.......................................

taglist (come get y'alls juice): @wannab-urs @beskarandblasters @cutesyscreenname @pr0ximamidnight @swiftispunk @gab-thelamb-onthemoon @thereaperisabitch @running-writing @leeeesahhh @toxic-seduction @str84pedro @mydailyhyperfixations

[cherriesfromeden]

bruce yamada with a reader who fights a lot

...

[style : headcanons]

[requested : yes]

[pairing : bruce yamada x fem!reader]

...

yay best friend!robin is a concept i love <3

you and robin have been friends since the beginning of middle school

he was about to get into a fight and you stepped in to defend him since you had overheard the fight

he was definitely your wingman with bruce since he knew you liked him

and then you and bruce got together and robin's happy for you two cause it's the cutest couple

bruce is constantly running after you to make sure you don't get in any fights

you still do

he leaves for two seconds to get you a soda and comes back to the hunger games

'okay so they didn't have your favorite but i got- WHAT THE-'

he pulls you away from people when he can sense that you're about to throw hands

bruce does this thing where he puts an arm around your shoulder and turns you away from whoever is pissing you off

he's so calming that is always works

and when you do get into fights he just sighs and starts grabbing the medical supplies he started carrying for you

get ready for a lecture while he's patching you up

'see? this is why you should wait for me after practice, you always get into fights with those guys- why are you looking at me like that'

'it's just a scratch'

bro turns into a certified doctor in three seconds

'it's just a scratch????'

then proceeds to put you in a full body cast-

also other people are very confused on how you two ended up together cause yk he's such a sunshine

and you're...

you're very aggressive interesting

so he can be talking w someone else and he's like 'oh you haven't met my gf!! i think she's somewhere around here'

'idk but there's some girl in a fight over there what a strange-'

'that's her'

'oh'

cue bruce cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting about how the game's gonna start soon

literal definition of standing over on the side screaming

'KICK HIS ASS BABE'

but he only does that when he knows they deserve it

any other time he'll be running to stop you

and he kisses your bruises i don't make the rules

he's so lovey dovey w you and it's so cuteee

so this was rlly late so i'm giving you some bonus content of headcanons for best friend!robin and what he does when you get with bruce:

AGH WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN

he's such a tease

esp in front of bruce

and besides finney you're his other tutor

having classes with him is so inconvenient but it's funny shit so it's worth it idk

'y/n do you have a pencil?'

'no, go away'

'i literally see one on your desk right now you liar'

'that's mine dumbass'

'was yours'

and robin always steals your pencils in class and since you two sit at the back the teacher can't see the fucking war going on over a pencil

getting detention together

omg those poor teachers-

cause if you guys have detention together it's a mess and you don't do the thing you're supposed to

but if you're separate then you both get rlly sad (neither of you would admit it) and don't do anything either

so most teachers just severely yell at you instead of giving you detention cause it's such a pain in the ass with you two'

lmk if you want more thoughts abt this <3

[velvetures]

alr alr alr so hear me out just HEAR me out right

Gaz. Right, right. Showing the reader he's a certified munch. Right. Idk how it would go. I imagine he maybe helped them out with something and they owe him a solid and then bro just like "fuq all this sexual attention bruv. Bring dat arse here and let me sip on ye like sum fine wine" or sumn. Idk. BUT PLS CONSIDER IT PLS I LOVE THIS MAN SOO MUCH

Tip the Driver

summary: you go above and beyond the call of duty and it earns you a certain operator's constant attention and adoration. he's insistent that he pays you back... and you're utterly shocked at what he suggests.

t/w's: canonical violence, blood, GSW, Gaz eating pussy like a champ, fem-reader, fem oral receiving, dirty talk, fingering, female orgasm, male orgasm, public?fuck,... probably missed a bunch..

MRAP's didn't make for the best office... but it was yours whether or not you liked it all that much or not. Between the .50 cal bolted to the roof and the unmoveable windows, it made for a shitty view just about everywhere you received orders to go. Be it sand and dusty nothingness or abandoned and flaming city streets with car alarms blaring after a bomb strike. Your "office" hardly proved to be comfortable, but no one could contest your ability to drive the damn thing and keep the men inside of it safe.

The most important of all was Task Force 141 on the frequent occasions that your specialist skills were necessary for getting the boys in and out of a tight situation when a helo couldn't be afforded. It was a pain in the ass job that hardly anyone ever wanted... and you couldn't say that you'd initially volunteered for it either. You'd been forced after multiple vehicle squads declined to work with the 141.

Nothing ever went to plan with them.

It all happened far too quickly.

What started as a simple insertion by vehicle turned into nearly inescapable hellfire raining down on the sides of your armored truck. Banging heavy brass and lead rounds against the walls and drowning out the sounds of Captain Price’s orders. The whole plan went to shit the first second an RPG took a nose dive less than fifteen feet in front of your truck; stalling the movement of the small convoy and pinning you between two rocky cliffs pinched off and slowly closing up even tighter.

One moment you were doing the only thing asked of you: drive Task Force 141 through the gap to the small terrorist encampment on the other side, and hide yourself until they needed a quick escape. The next you were knelt down in the back, tightening down a tourniquet around Kyle Garrick’s thigh and preparing with shaky hands to pack a steadily bleeding bullet wound. There was hardly a second to think about anything, much less second guess your best instincts after Soap and Ghost hauled Gaz back to the truck and made a very harsh demand that you “pack him tight”.

Honestly, you didn’t even know what that meant. But Gaz -in all his inhuman strength- had enough patience and discipline to ignore the pain he was feeling to walk you through exactly what it took to keep him from bleeding out before you could get him somewhere for real medical attention. From cutting his own pant leg open to handing you each tool or material necessary, Kyle couldn’t have been a better patient to learn with. But it didn’t make you feel any better for looking up at him every few seconds and seeing him practically chewing on his own belt to keep from screaming or cracking his teeth.

“Doin’ good sweetheart…”

“That’s it, keep it -fuck- keep it tight like that…”

“Can’t be shy with me. Need you to be tough, m’kay?”

Every little praise or motivation he gave made eased your worries, but damn if you didn’t feel the littlest bit guilty for needing a wounded man to give you reassurance. It should’ve been the opposite. You easing his nerves. Telling him he’d be okay, and that there wasn’t anything to worry about. But there wasn’t a single thing you could do except following his directions to the letter, and hope that he didn’t pass out before you could finish up.

“For a gearhead, you’ve got nice hands…”

“Aren’t you a little too pretty to get stuck drivin’ us around?”

The longer you stayed in the back with Gaz, trying to mop up the blood pooling on the floor and around him, the more invested he became with you; not just what you were doing to make sure he didn’t die. Naturally, you’d known Kyle well enough to say you were acquaintances but it was never significant enough to say more than a friendly hello and goodbye when you caught each other’s attention. But with each milliliter of blood lost, Kyle Garrick began losing that well-mannered silence he was so often teased about. Enjoying the sight of you that close to you, and mentioning even the smallest little goofy detail he could muster up in half-consciousness.

“Gaz… you need to rest,” You’re hardly able to get the words out with all of the anxiety you have building with each bullet lodging itself in the side of your truck. “Can’t have you leaving us…” He just chuckles with a little wince. Leaning his head back against the back of your driver’s seat with one hand resting over his thigh and the other instinctively resting on the grip of his pistol still tucked against his hip.

“Not leaving if you’re around… s’pecially now that i’ve got your attention..” He gives a shy little smile. “You’re a really pretty for a MRAP driver… well… the only pretty one…” His eyes cut down and away from yours. “But still…”

You’d have been mush with such a cute admission had it not been for the firefight happening just outside your vehicle. And it was the limit of your power to ensure that Gaz was stable until there wasn’t a shot fired and you heard a nearly breathless all-clear from Captain Price outside. When the back doors swung open, the rest of Task Force 141 took in the sight of your blood-soaked gear, red-stained hands, sweat dripping down your neck, and Kyle slumped against you sleeping off the exhaustion with a fairly decent field dressing.

They were impressed.

Enough so that Price ordered Ghost to drive and let you sit in the back next to Gaz who had unconsciously laid up against you like a body pillow of sorts. Your mission had been busted by bad intel and a tip-off. It led to all of you regrouping back at base.

The 141 hauling Kyle off to the infirmary to get legitimate treatment, and you back to the garage where your truck had been shot to hell and back and needed repairs… If you could make them.

It was a good thing you’d been in a MRAP… but even they could only take so much abuse before bulletproof panels started bending and cracking under pressure. On first inspection you’d seen the pinholes of light shining from the garage lights through the walls onto the blood-stained floor in the back. And that was an entirely different struggle you’d been attempting to overcome. Seeing the dark red remanence of Gaz’s injury puddled and dried all over the desert tan painted floor. You’d been so upset by it that you attempted to scrub it off by hand since nothing else had worked. For two days you scrubbed at it… your squad mates passing by to yet again see you down on your hands and knees with a scrub brush, hot water, and bleach. But you’d hardly made a dent in the unmistakable stains by the time that Gaz was given full release from the doctors on staff.

Fuck, the only reason you knew that was because he’d been the one to come and find you still scrubbing at the back of your truck.

The light tap on the open back door halted your frenzied scrubbing. Looking up from the pink-tinged bubbles surrounding your hands, you came to meet Kyle standing there a bit stiffly with a somewhat curious look on his face.

“Sorry about that…” His apology isn’t exactly a joke, but you can tell that a part of it bothers him. “I’m normally not that messy.”

“You hardly have a reason to be sorry.” You feel responsible for reassuring him. Having it in the back of your mind that without saying it, he’d go on believing that you were inconvenienced by the whole ordeal, instead of deeply, and for some reason -very- emotionally protective. “It’s the least I can do to let you bleed in my truck.”

Kyle chuckled, stiffly moving to pull himself up into the vehicle. He sat down even more slowly with his boots facing away from the stain you’d been scrubbing at. “I guess you have had at least a couple fingers shoved inside my thigh… maybe we’re even?”

He earns a laugh from you.

Probably the most genuine one you’ve let out since the day he got injured. Gaz can’t help but be reminded of just how pretty you are in that moment. Kneeling there with a mop bucket and suds of soap surrounding your knees with baby hairs sticking to the sweat on your forehead. He’d not been too under the influence to exaggerate just how pretty he thought you were. And the fact that your job entailed driving on an equal skill level to being part of the presidential motorcade certainly added attraction points.

That little crush he nursed was ignored as much as possible. But remembering small flashes of your worried face looking over him a few days back haunted every waking moment of his day. While a little crush on a pretty girl was one thing, adding fuel to that fire was burning Kyle’s self-control into ashes.

He wanted to think there was some way of… flirting with you, he supposed. Giving a hint that he wasn’t just coming to waste time in the garage with you because of how well you shoved gauze into the hole in his thigh. But he could only think of one decent idea… and damn if he didn’t think it was the most feral thing he’d ever dreamt up. Seeing you just sitting there like that enticed his pain-med-laced thoughts with enough eroticism to even make Soap’s head spin like a fucking top.

“You feeling okay Gaz?” The sound of your voice breaks him from the thoughts.

His nods, one hand sliding over the heavily bandaged spot on his thigh under his pants. “Yeah, just thinking about something…”

Your eyebrows quirk up. “What’s that? Must be important for you to be staring off into nothingness like that.”

“Just how I’m going to pay you back for keeping me alive.” He smiles, lazily drawing his gaze down to look at you. His forearms resting on his thighs gently, looking down at you sitting just out of arm’s reach on the floor. “And I think I know how to do it.”

Kyle’s wide stance and downright confident swagger merely sitting there makes the slight bleach smell in the air pale in comparison to the dizziness his heavy gaze does. From the black boots, to the jeans, hoodie and black baseball cap, he’s nothing short of pure masculine energy. And fuck does he know it. Screaming felt like an appropriate response to his comments, yet the only think that could come out of your mouth was a nervous giggle. Soft and a little hesitant. Flashing your nervous anxiety like a white flag right in Kyle’s face.

“Somethin’ funny?” He smirked a little, adjusting the bill of his cap and tugging it down closer to his eyebrows. You shake your head ‘no’, trying to recover and sober up quickly.

“Oh, no… please, do tell.” He presses smoothly, dark eyes brightening with what you can only compare to champagne and chocolate diamonds glittering in warm, cocktail bar lighting. Enticing… rich… and oh-so-pretty.

“Just, sounded a little suggestive is all.” You smile, saying it with an uncertainty that wavers between it being a joke, and a question as to his seriousness. Trying to keep the ball in his court as not to foul up on whatever kind of situation Kyle came here to trap you in.

If it’s naturally possible, his eyes darken. “What if I was being a lot more suggestive?” His upper body leans a little closer. “What would you think then?” You feel your own stomach twist into tight knots.

“I’d think you’re crazy.”

Gaz laughs. Actually laughs out loud, and grins down at you.

“Crazy, huh?” He reaches a hand out, fingertips touching the underside of your chin and guiding your face up to meet his. His huffs a little chuckle, almost mesmerized by you and the way you think. “Well, I might just be,” He answered quietly.

“But that isn’t going to stop me.” You swallow thickly, feeling his thumb brush over the swell of your bottom lip ever so softly.

“Stop you from doing what exactly?” Gaz chuckles lowly again, giving a moment to look at the blood stain on the floor and the hell of a time you’d been having trying to remove it.

“Showing you the one other time I don’t mind making a mess.”

***

You can’t be sure if it’s just how time suddenly bends around Gaz, or if you just can’t care enough to keep track of it. But you find yourself sitting naked in the drivers seat of your own MRAP, pants hanging from one ankle, shoes lost somewhere in the cab, and your panties shoved into Gaz’s back pocket. Be an hour or five, you’d already lost count of the times Kyle gave you the same praise as he did when you were helping patch him up.

Only this time, he was muffling your screams of pleasure with his hot mouth pressed against yours and fingers so deep inside your cunt that it was almost too easy to make you come for him. Your slick dripped from your clenching pussy into the fabric seat cover, soaking Kyle’s whole hand and your ass.

“That’s it… such a pretty pussy…” His low rumbling praise against your ear feels like electric static running down your spine. “What a lucky man… getting to shove my fingers in it, and see how wet I can make you.”

Lithe digits massage against the squishy front wall of your cunt, while his other hand doubles to put pressure on your stomach while rubbing at your clit with his fingertips all at the same time. You’re helpless to do more than let your head heavily thump against the tinted window behind you and squeeze your eyes shut to keep from utterly losing your mind. Kyle Garrick has turned you into a whimpering, messy, slutty-looking mess. And god is he more than happy to let you know just how good it looks from his angle.

“Fuucckk yesss..” He groans, kneeling closer to your pussy. Resting his cheek against your inner thigh and pressing a sloppy kiss to it when he’s able to draw yet another orgasm from you. Rending your legs truly useless and unable to fend off his attacks in any meaningful way.

It’s exactly where he wants you.

You’re pinned back against your seat with your knees on either side of your head and a dizzy look on your face as Kyle blows a teasing breath against your swollen clit, staring down at you damn near drunk off the sight alone. It makes you yelp, but with all of his methodical preparation, the only thing keeping him from sinking his tongue into your wet hole is wanting to see what other sounds he can drag out of you without touching that sensitive collection of nerve endings. Gaz couldn’t get enough of seeing your legs limp and easily maneuvered out of his way so that nothing more than your submissive little expressions and dripping cunt are on display.

“Told you I don’t like making messes…” His tongue licked lazily at the crease of your thigh, teasing himself with just the slightest tase of your arousal. Edging himself with the full prize of tasting all of his hard work.

“But I want you to look this slutty all the time, pretty girl…” He grinned darkly.

Finally lowering himself to your core, he curls his tongue through your folds with a satisfied groan. Purposefully burying his nose against your clit and sucking at your release until he’s certain he won’t need to eat for the rest of the day. You’re too wrecked to squirm anymore. Merely staring up blankly at the celling as he tongue rolls over your clit and dips down to gather up your slick before it drips down onto the seat again.

“Oh my god…” It’s a miracle you can utter a single word.

Kyle squeezes at the muscle and fat on your thighs in reward for finding your voice, if even for just a moment. That’s good… he thinks, knowing you can take this much pleasure and not give up when he’s still not satiated with the taste of your come sliding down his throat. He’s nearly lost all composure of himself as well; but damn if he didn’t just want to tie your legs to the driver’s seat and steering wheel just so he could lap at your cunt for hours without you interrupting him. Wishful thinking for this only being the first time he’d been able to taste you. But he was certain there wouldn’t be a single day in the future he’d go without at least the slightest tease of your pleasure lingering on his lips.

“One more,” He demands, teasing your hole with his thumb as his tongue traces your inner lips languidly. “Feed me baby…”

There’s not a moment’s hesitation.

You nearly come on command at this point. So overstimulated but desperate for more that when Kyle gently grazes his teeth over your clit, everything unravels in a fuzzy lost of your eyesight and a shock of sensation so strong in your body that Gaz manages to actually make your legs shake one last time. It’s so damn strong tears flood your eyes, and it’s not until you feel him slowly pumping a few of his fingers in and out of your weeping cunt that you realize he’s actually helping you ride it out by stroking at your g-spot tenderly and kissing your inner thigh.

He looks just as lost in the moment as you feel.

His mouth parted and still lapping at your folds like he’s possessed to do nothing else. Your arousal slicking the entire lower half of his face, and his baseball cap turned around backwards with a light grey t-shirt that he’d have to let dry before getting out of your truck due to the cum splatters covering the front. As if that wasn’t enough to turn you on seeing Kyle Garrick on his knees and pussy drunk off you, the large wet spot just to the left of his zipper made your weakened muscles clench around his fingers. Kyle follows your line of sight, chuckling quietly and gently palming at his softening cock through his pants with a small shrug.

“It’s my favorite…” He explains soft but very honestly, eyes flashing back to where he begins slowly removing his fingers from your cunt. Eyeing his own fingers and how your walls accommodate them before sinking his own fingers in his mouth to finish ‘clean up’ on his favorite messy job.

“Now we’re even?” You ask, a little dazed and reaching a hand out to find his for some stability and reassurance. Kyle laughs softly, helping you readjust your legs and lifting you up to sit in his lap to ward off the after-sex chills raising up on your bared skin.

“I suppose so,” His wetted lips press against your temple and linger there reverently for a minute or two.

“Or… we could… keep doing each other favors?” His voice lowers a bit, sounding far too unsure for your liking.

“I don’t want to do favors, Gaz.” You smile.

“I just wanna do you.”

[notvictorhugo]

Sooo I've just seen some beautiful fanarts of thirteen and eleven and I have Thoughts

So Im gonna talk a bit about Eleven and Thirteen, their relationships with Ten and Twelve, and the concept of 14 and why I think it fits so well.

My main thesis is this: Thirteen and Eleven are very, VERY similar, they are hurt in very similar ways from their previous regenerations, and deal with those things in similar ways. However, while Eleven gets a forced catharsis in Trenzalore, Thirteen only gets an optional one, which she rejects, forcing the regeneration into Fourteen and, later on, the bigeneration. Let's go!

I'd like to begin with Ten and a brief recap of his tenure. It begins with Rose, someone she knew from his previous regeneration, someone who, in many senses, healed him from the cynical POV he had adopted since the Time War. She becomes a bit too doctory, and ends up trapped in a parallel universe, largely because of him and his influence.

He then meets Martha. She ends up leaving him because he can't get over himself and his very recent trauma with Rose. He's on his own for a bit, and meets Donna, arguably his best friend in a long while. And, just like Rose, his actions end up with him being forced to depart from her. He is SO DONE at this point. He keeps travelling on his own, doing his own thing, a distant doctor (but a doctor still) who ends up becoming the Time Lord Victorious. In this state of Loneliness, he is forced to end Gallifrey again, and is saved by the closest thing he has to a friend at this point: the Master. He regenerates.

So, what does the Doctor do immediately after that, in his eleventh incarnation? When he meets Amy he decides to try again. This time, however, Amy is not a life-in companion, as Rose and Donna were (Im not sure about Martha, but I think she was one as well). Instead, he begins to microdose the Ponds, popping in every hundred years or so, seeing them for a while, then leaving again. After Rose, Martha and Donna, he absolutely refuses the idea of losing someone again: he is painfully aware of the time limits, and if working around them means not seeing the Ponds except on rare occasions, so be it. He is RUNNING AWAY.

Except, of course, it doesn't work. A lovely trip to New York ends with the Ponds being zapped back in time, a tombstone confirming they died, and a letter from Amy certifying that he never went back to see them, which, of course, means that NOW he can't. It's written, it's part of the timeline.

So he gives up. He refuses to engage, he refuses to take a new companion and, you know what, this time he won't even be a Doctor. He tried that after Donna and see how it worked out, no, no, never again. He is so tired.

This is arguably the end of the post-time war era. That part of him is definitely healed, and now all his wounds come from after that.

What happens then? He meets Victorian Clara. And she dies. But he's seen Clara die before. He's seen the same person twice, he's seen her die twice, and now here she is, a third one. His curiosity gets the better of him, but there may also be a bit more: for this woman, a death is not the end.

So they travel together, she moves in, and, with her, he starts healing again. This is somewhat similar to a Nine-Rose situation. What happens next?

Well, remember how he keeps running away from loss, what he was doing with the Ponds? This time it's enforced. He is trapped on Trenzalore, leaves Clara, and can only see her every few hundred years. He is forced to stay somewhere and see everyone be born, grow up and die, strapped to a chair, Clockwork-Orange-Style, to see his worst nightmare again and again and again. He lives through it, and Clara is there, always.

He regenerates.

Clara is with him, and she becomes to his twelfth incarnation what Rose was to his tenth. After many adventures, and after a beautiful mirror of Trenzalore in which it is the doctor who is forced to die again and again, Clara leaves in a way that mirrors Donna.

He could enter a second Time Lord Victorious era at this point, but he won't. He's been here before, he knows how it works, he's older and knows better. You can't run from death forever. He says goodbye to River Song and retires, but not in a hermit way, as he'd done before, but in a Professor way. He engages. He takes Bill as a student, but he will not let her become another Rose, Martha, Donna, Amy, Clara. She is not an equal, a partner, but his student and his protegée.

He also remembers. Last time, when he was in this situation, it was the Master who was with him by his side. The Master, who is also a timelord, who grew up with him, who's always been there. Perhaps, he thinks, there is the answer. He becomes her guardian, tries to fix her.

And, as we know (but crucially he doesn't), he succeeds. But he believes she -the one who was to be his friend- betrayed him, his protegée dies because of them, and now what? He gets into an explosion, but he does not die.

He is so tired. He's been through this twice already, as Ten and as Fourteen, and something like it as Eleven. Nothing works. His last shot, Missy, fails. He refuses to do it again. He does not want to regenerate.

Here's when Thirteen comes in.

She comes right after an attempt of giving up. It comes after recalling his friends (what makes his life worth living) and recalling how much she's grown via meeting One. Fine. Another attempt. Let's go.

But, just like Ten-Eleven, this new chance comes without any self-reflection, any attempt at fixing herself. Just like Eleven, she knows that she just has to run away, she just has to make friends, keep them well, keep them happy, and everything will be okay, just don't think about it. We sometimes see her brooding on her TARDIS alone, but she resumes her act as soon as Yaz (or anyone else) appears. She won't let the Fam see anything: the Bill dynamic worked well, so they're gonna be her students, not her equals. Not again.

So she's alone, perhaps more than ever. She has no friends, only students who she wants to convince they're friends to her, her wife's dead, the only other timelord remaining, her friend, has betrayed her and trashed all her previous efforts, and now it turns out the land of Time Lords, her equals, the ones she might have come back to, the ones she'd finally saved, have been destroyed again (by her friend!) and she isn't even one of them, she's an anomaly in an entire universe. And she HAS to carry all this on her back, not relying on anyone, not letting anyone close this time (unlike Clara-Eleven), AND has to pretend everything's fine for the humans she's decided to keep with her AND now it turns out one has caught feelings for her? Requited feelings at that?

Thirteen is a tragic figure. Unlike Ten, who had ups and downs, recoveries and reprises, and Eleven, who is forced to stay in Trenzalore and recover, she just... Dies. Carrying the same trauma from start to finish, and getting more and more and more and...

She can't. She just can't. She needs to stop. In these situations, humans somatize and just collapse, but she can't. So, how does her body force her to stop?

Old face.

Not Twelve, he was also alone. Not Eleven, with Amy and Rory timelocked. Ten, then? Yes, Ten might do. Back to an old face. Her TARDIS, seizing this chance, takes him to his friend, Donna. An equal, not a student.

But he still refuses to stop, refuses to engage, he just runs and runs and runs, never stopping, never sharing, never trusting. The ONE TIME he opens up a bit, it turns out it's to Fake Donna. Actual Donna doesn't remember. He powers on, as Thirteen did.

And then he gets shot.

But his body refuses. It is NOT giving up. It is not gonna let this chance go, it is not gonna give it a new face just to keep running from everything, as Thirteen and Fourteen did. No, Fifteen won't do that. The body regenerated eighteen hours ago: theregeneration energy is still fresh. Last time it had this face, he grew a new hand. Perhaps there's time for one last trick, it thinks.

[silentmoths]

Just some Single Dad! Zhongli x Kindergarten teacher Reader things

I dunno, it was a cute idea and I'm writing it on the fly because my eyeballs needed a break from star rail.

not proofred, Zhongli x reader (tried to keep the pronouns gn but forgive if i missed a few and like, xiao referrs to them as mama at one point)

sfw

Zhongli who had adopted a young Xiao from an unfortunate situation shortly after he loses Guizhong. Was it a coping mechanism? absolutely, but he wanted, no, needed, someone to care for, to put his time into.

He loves Xiao, kid's his whole world. It takes him a little longer to learn to talk, and even then, he's very shy, very much a velcro toddler. Zhongli doesn't mind.

He does start worrying however, when Xiao reaches age four and the boy shows no interest in socializing, he doesn't really know how to play, other than with his dad, and while li does his best, he's no child, he doesnt know what the kids are into these days.

That and, while he's worked from home pretty much all this time, he's also feeling the itch to return to the office, perhaps talk to people who weren't four, but he also doesn't know how well Xiao will adjust to going to kindergarten, but he doesnt want to leave his son high and dry when he inevitably has to start grade school.

So, eventually, after much anxiety, he bites the bullet and enrolls Xiao into the kindergarten closest to his office, that way if he doesn't take it well, he can quickly swing in and take him, it's not like Director Hu would ever turn the child away.

He explains what kindergarten is, and what to expect to xiao, and of course the boy is all brave, puffed chest and hardened face (sometimes Zhongli wonders if he's let the boy watch too much ninjago) and tells his papa he'll be fine, he's a big boy and he can handle it, he can handle anything!!

yeah thats a fat load of crap, the boy is an absolute sobbing mess the next day at drop off.

to be fair, it's also a very near thing for Zhongli. he's not been without Xiao for an extended period since he adopted the boy four years ago, they've always been together, and seeing his son cry like that is almost too much to bear.

That is until someone kneels beside his son with a soft handkerchief with a little duck embroidered in the corner. they coo and gently dabs away Xiao's tears with a soft smile.

"oh dear...you must be Xiao." they greet softly, taking one of his little hands in their own and giving it a little shake. "I know new places can be scary, but it's ok. you trust your papa, dont you?" Zhongli is prepared to step in, to tell them that Xiao doesn't really talk much, but his son surprises him.

"U-uh-huh..." he wibbles, letting this newcomer dry his eyes.

"Well, you know your papa would never leave you somewhere he didn't think you'd like, right?"

"mhm..."

Zhongli watches as you smile, and he feels the shock settling into his chest. He knew you were certified in early childhood...but no one, not even the best paediatricians had managed to get a sound out of Xiao.

"Papa wont be very far away, how's about this...if you really really don't like it here today, papa is only a phone call away, he can always come and get you, yeah?"

Xiao turns his watery yellow eyes up to Him and Zhongli smiles, easily scooping the boy up when he raises his arms. "They're right little dove, I won't be far, and I promise to come get you if you are unhappy, if you can try to give it a try?" He murmurs.

Xiao, to his credit, sniffles and gives his papa a small nod, he's rewarded with a tight squeeze and a kiss to his forehead.

"that's my boy. Try to have some fun, hm? there's lots of toys for you to play with..."

"Mhm..."

Xiao surprises him yet again, when the teacher stands, he turns and stretches his arms out to them, never in all his years has Zhongli seen his child do that either.

To their credit, they take him with ease, settling him into the crook of one arm with a soft croon before looking to Zhongli with a smile.

"and you must be Zhongli? It's a pleasure to meet you." you greet, holding out your hand for him to shake. "It's quite normal for little ones to have the first day blues, I'm sure after morning snack he'll be just fine."

Zhongli can't help but smile, he had a feeling Xiao would be just fine.

-

It only takes a week before it's Xiao who's waiting by the front door, bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for him to unlock the car so they can go.

He hasn't stopped talking about school, about his new friends and of course his teacher. Zhongli has never felt so relieved to know that his son is adjusting quite well.

He runs into the room to greet you with a smile and a hug to the leg, seemingly only just remembering to turn and give his papa a hug and a kiss.

"Have a good day at work, Papa!" he coos happily as Zhongli picks him up for their usual farewell cuddle.

"And you too, little dove." his response comes easy as he puts his son down and watches him gallavant over to his little group of friends.

"And to think a week ago he was crying his little eyes out." you chuckle, Zhongli hums and nods before remembering he had something to mention.

"Ah, there is a chance I might be a little later to pick him up than usual, It will be before the centre closes, but I figured I'd give you some warning lest Xiao worry."

"Oh, no problem! even if you think you might be later than close, just call the centre before hand! I'll make sure he's safe." you smile at him, and he feels another sense of relief wash over him.

He does end up running late, much later than he'd expected. Adding in traffic, he knew the centre would be closed by the time he made it, and he'd called ahead.

He comes rushing into the room, full apology at the ready, and assurance that any acrewed late fee's would of course be paid in full without complaint but stops dead at the sight before him.

Xiao, asleep, on your shoulder as you hum a soft tune. He can tell his son had been crying by the redness of his cheeks, he must have been a bit anxious because of his lateness.

You spot him in the doorway and smile, slowly ceasing your song as you effortlessly grab Xiao's bag from his cubby, and a drawing from the art rack with practiced ease.

"How was he?" he whispers as he hooks Xiao's bag over his shoulder.

"An angel as always." you whisper back, attempting to pass Xiao to him, but you're stopped when she little boy whines in his sleep, burying his face into the crook of your neck with a content huff, little hands clenched into the collar of your shirt tightly. "Oh...seem's he's comfortable..."

"And he'll be cranky if you pull him away too soon." Zhongli sighs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, perhaps it was his fault for indulging the little boy's need to be close, but who could really say no to that face?

"hm...ok, gimme a sec." you chuckle, shifting to hold Xiao in one arm as you quickly glide through the classroom, picking up stray toys and nudging little chairs back in beneath their tables with your foot, hitting lightswitches and locking doors with such ease that it leaves Zhongli impressed.

It all culminates with you both (plus xiao, still napping away) in the parking lot, everyone else was already long gone, and Zhongli finally bows his head to you.

"My most sincere apologies for being so late, I'll make sure the late fee is included-"

"Oh, no no, it's fine Mr. Zhongli." You wave him off "It was an honest mistake, and honestly, Xiao is such an angel, It's really no trouble. heck, before he started worrying, he was helping me clean up." you explain with a small smile, hand rubbing small circles into the child's back "You have a wonderful little boy, Mr. Zhongli, you've done an amazing job."

Zhongli blinks.

Perhaps it was just a combination of his stressing about being late, his anxiety about leaving his son to return to work, and everything else.

but that was also the first time someone had actually said those words.

He'd done a good job.

He'd raised a good kid.

He hadn't fucked up.

"M-Mr. Zhongli?" he hears you ask in a panic as he comes back to himself, he see's your wide eyes, worried as your free hand digs around in your jeans pocket, pulling out yet another handkerchief with an embroidered duck in the corner. "Are you alright? did I say something wrong?"

Only now does he realize he's crying like a damned fool.

"a-ah. my apologies" he mumbles, taking your handkerchief to be polite and drying his eyes "It's just...it's been a turbulent week."

Your face softens a little as you lean against the hood of your car. "First time leaving him?" you ask, he nods.

"I've not been without him since I adopted him..." He admits "And I was so worried he wouldn't take to school, or children his age..."

"He's doing wonderfully." you reassure "he's respectful and attentive, sometimes he can be a little bit of a tattle tail but he's thriving."

Zhongli chuckles, somehow he can see his boy, chest all puffed out, telling off other children for breaking the rules "That's...good to hear."

"Oh, hey Xiao...guess who's here?" He hears you mumble as Xiao finally shifts in your arms. Slowly Xiao turns his sleepy eyes to Zhongli and his soft little frown eases a little at the familiar sight. "See? told you the mean cars were just making papa a little late."

Xiao goes easy when you finally move to hand him back, snuggling right into Zhongli's shoulder with a content murmur.

"Thank you so much again for watching him after hours." He sighs "please, if there is anything I can ever do, let me know."

"oh you." you chuckle as you reach for your keys "Like i said, he's an angel, and it was only, what, fifteen minutes? I'm sure I'll survive." you joke with him before tilting your head to smile as Xiao. "Bye bye Xiao, I'll see you on monday, yeah?"

"mmh...bye momma..." the little boy mumbles, already half asleep.

Zhongli can feel the way his cheeks heat, and he can see the way yours flush a rather pretty shade of pink before you laugh, trying to wave it off.

"o-oh that happens more often than you'd think!" you chuckle as you unlock the door. "H-have a pleasant evening, Mr. Zhongli."

Zhongli feels like a deer in the headlights. It was a simple mistake on his son's part, he probably just wasn't used to the concept of 'teachers' yet.

but even so.

"Same to you." he mumbles stiffly, bowinf his head once more before he turns and makes back towards his shiny black sedan, anu excuse to hide his red face.

As he's carefully clipping Xiao into his booster seat, the drawing you'd grabbed from the rack slips out of his bag, teetering on Zhongli's shoulder, and his face goes even redder.

Seems he might need to have a talk with his son, if the crude stick figure drawing of Him and His teacher holding hands, with Xiao holding Zhongli's other hand, was any indicator.

and yet, he cannot help but notice, that it was definitely your handwriting attatched to the little arrows pointing to each stick figure, meaning you too had seen this picture.

Zhongli quietly wonders what that might mean as he climbs into the drivers seat.

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

[chaoticbardlady99]

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me (Spawn Astarion x F! Ghost Reader)

 Chapter Four: Regrets

Synopsis: You wake up in a place you've never seen before and shit hits the fan pretty quickly.

CW: Mentions of unwanted touch, gore, violence, mentions of child loss (Victoria)

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. Birdie's 'image' is a stock image. I will not describe the readers body in detail- she is just merely on the banner for ✨drama✨. I believe the picture of Astarion is from @cheekylittlepupp . And then the symbol of Orcus in the back is a free image off the internet.

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

Chapter Three : Chapter Five: AO3

 When you wake up again, your head is spinning and there is a man leaning over you with a smile on his face- he’s dressed head to toe in Paladin gear and there is a boot print with a compass insignia on his chest. The man is pretty, his skin has a slight bluish tint to it, but otherwise it’s more caramel colored, and he has a goofy, boyish grin. His hazel eyes bore into yours and his black messy hair frames his face. 

 Astarion would distrust him immediately.

 Your head is throbbing and your abdomen still feels the ghost of the arrow going through your much smaller form. Yet, all you can think about is getting back to Astarion as soon as possible. You will destroy the world if you have to if it means being by his side again. 

 “Welcome to the City of Manifest!” he yells with excitement. 

  The city of what now?

“Oh no- I need to g-“

  “Come on, get up, I have places to show you!” the man says, “my name is Brayden- a Wyst Paladin, most beautiful human you will ever meet, and,” he turns around with his arms wide, “certified tour guide for the newly dead!”

 Newly dead? You’ve been dead for a few centuries now. Wait, are you?

 “Dead!? Like gone gone?” you begin to panic, “no- I can’t! I- I have someone waiting for me to come back!”

   Your whole body begins to shut down- the air you don’t need being dragged into you in quick harsh gasps from panic. You can’t be gone. You can’t be! 

  You hope Astarion is okay- maybe you aren’t too far away from where you died? You did just kind of show up here- you thought you would have been dragged into the Ethereal Current.

  “Oh don’t fret! I’m sure they are on their way now- the City is not that far from wherever you died since you woke up here instead of in the good ole current,” the man continues to march towards the gates of the City, “people often come and live here with their passed loved ones or you can purchase a Manifesting Ring and be a solid humanoid outside of the City.”

“Solid?” you ask in confusion. 

“Notice how you can feel the breeze?”

  You pause and a small gust of wind kisses your face. Your hand goes hesitantly to your cheek- you actually felt the wind. Maybe you didn’t really notice because you were able to feel the wind as a cat anyhow so it wasn’t something you had to miss for too long.

“Wow,” you whisper.

 You slide off your shoes and put your feet in the freshly rained on grass- a laugh of delight escapes your lips. You are genuinely truly solid.

 Something sparks to life inside of you and all of the ‘What Ifs” begin to swirl around in your heart- making you positively giddy.

 This means that you have a chance- an honest to Gods chance- at being romantically involved with Astarion. You jump and shout- running across the grass with your shoes in hand and Brayden chasing after you. You don’t stop until you hit the gates- breathless, but with no use for air.

 It’s incredible. The ache in your legs, your lungs, and the cobblestone beneath your feet hurts, but in a way that is familiar and foreign all the same. You can feel frizzy flyaway hairs on your head and you can smell! 

  There must be a pastry shop somewhere and you are determined to find it, but first things first- you need to find Astarion. 

“Grief and a half woman,” Brayden comes to a halt in front of her, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be leading you!”

  You chuckle awkwardly, “Uh sorry- I guess I just got really excited.” 

  Brayden smiled understandingly. 

 “I was the same way when I arrived. I was also grateful to have another chance at life.”

 You hum in agreement and allow him to actually guide you this time. He shows you the Magic Swan Tavern- the most popular in town for it’s shenanigans. He takes you through the entirety of the Portal Ward District and you make note of the nice dagger that Deric’s Weapons is selling. 

 Maybe, if you can scrounge up some money, you can buy it for Astarion as a, “Sorry I keeled over. Again.” present. 

  After the Portal Ward District, you end up in the Market Ward with people shouting out their prices and discounts. Then you are off to Forestview and then back through the Portal Ward- The Leafy Branch tavern is far more quiet and calm than The Magic Swan Tavern, but you think you would prefer the noisiness and fun. You’ve missed out on that kind of environment for a very very long time. 

 There is so much to remember that your head feels like it’s swimming- there’s candle shops, pastry shops, live entertainment, loved ones reuniting, and people walking around with their neighbors or friends. 

 You are snapped out of your mystified reality when you arrive at The Tombyard district- the smell of rot and the feelings of despair make you feel colder than you already are.

 “This is the Tombyard- there is an eclectic group of individuals here,” Brayden says uneasily, “Necromancy and other magic that disturbs the peace of the dead are forbidden, but that doesn’t stop everyone.”

  There is a loud clattering from the alleyway and the Cleric steps in front of you protectively.      

 “Wait here,” he says sternly, “don’t go away with anyone who is not me or your friend, okay?)

 “Okay?”

  What in the hells is happening?

 10 minutes pass, then 20 before he reappears, except his eyes are different. Instead of being more brown, they are more red. His footsteps are way too soft compared to the clunking he was making earlier.

 “I really appreciate the tour and everything,” you say to Brayden, “but I need to go and find my friend-”

“Oh come on- just let me buy you one drink!” He grabs your arm, trying to drag you to the Tavern. 

 The man’s entire demeanor had changed. He was not puppy-like anymore- he was far too cool and collected. Horrifically pushy too. 

“No- I really need to find Astarion.”

“Forget him,” the man rolls his eyes, “he hasn’t gotten here yet. He’s probably moved on.”

  What? This man was just telling you about all the places to show Astarion and now he is saying he isn’t coming? 

 You feel tears prick your eyes and your lower lip begins to tremble. That’s not possible- is it?

 The man looks forlorn when he realizes how upset he made you. He comes over and gently pats your shoulders before looking you dead in the eyes. Although his face shows empathy, his eyes are empty and devoid of emotion. 

 You just need to get back to Astarion, this man doesn’t matter.

“Hey, look,” he says with a sigh, “I know someone who can help us find hi-“

 “Where!?” You practically scream, “take me there right now!” 

  The man smiles at you and gestures for you to follow him back towards The Tombyard. Something inside of you screams to stop following him, but the dumb part of you, the worried part of you that needs Astarion NOW, is winning over common sense. 

  There are far more alleyways in the Tombyard than you realized (you weren’t really paying much attention anyway), but something about going through alleyways with a stranger screams, “Astarion is going to have a cow when he realizes you followed a stranger when he has to rescue you from said stranger.”  

  You stop, letting ‘Brayden’ go further ahead when your stomach turns even tighter. Something is wrong. Very very wrong. 

 It’s like being in the Catacombs again.

  The man stops when he realizes you aren’t following him anymore, both of you staring at each other and standing mere feet apart. 

 Whoever this is- this is not the tour guide you met mere hours ago. This person has ill intentions.

 “Who are you?” 

  The question hangs in the air like a threat. It wasn’t meant to be, but knowledge is power and that’s all you have right now. 

  His face contorts and the man snarls in frustration- revealing massive canines. Your eyes go wide as the entire illusion drops. 

 It’s Leon. Of course it’s fucking Leon. 

 “You and Astarion are an annoying fucking duo,” he says harshly, “between the two of you- I really don’t know who is worse, but I am certainly fed up.” 

  Oh that might be a threat. 

  You take off running- sliding around corners of alleyways with Leon hot on your heels through the back alley of The Tombyard. He was Cazador’s best hunter for a reason and he certainly isn’t losing your trail. 

 Oh to be a cat again- there are so many good hiding spots. Astarion is going to have to take you to Halsin immediately after this- you definitely need to add ‘Druid’ to your limited list of skills.

  Leon sends you flying with a thunder wave and you have officially decided flying isn’t for you. 

  The wall hurts as you crash into it- your nose makes a cracking noise and some kind of blue liquid is coming out. Your head is spinning- the world is spinning. Your pants are ripped at the knees from skidding and your hands are raw with ectoplasm.

  You’re going to die die (two times in a day? What the hell did you do to deserve this?)

  Leon comes into your vision and you try to push yourself away- absolutely desperate to get away. It’s no use- every attempt at kicking out at him or fighting him off has failed and now he’s force feeding you a paralytic as he grips your scalp painfully- slamming your head against the pavement until you stop fighting back.

 Tears slip down your face- you should have listened to your instincts. Now you’re never going to see Astarion again and it feels like a massive gut punch. You always waited too long and never took risks, but of course the one risk you take is going to be your last. 

 And it’s not the risk you wanted to take today.

 I am so so sorry, Star, you think remorsefully, and Gods do I wish I told you I love you. 

                 *******************************

  The sound of Leon screaming and cursing in indignation is what snaps you back into the world. 

  He really fucking lost it after Cazador died, huh? Hopefully Victoria isn’t being subjected to this at home. If she is- you are going to need to locate the nearest looney bin for insane undead (it’s a literal bin, you and Astarion frequently joke about Gardening and used Cazador as fertilizer for really pretty pink flowers). 

  You are both in a cage (how fitting- a Birdie in a cage) and you think you may be in some kind of temple. It smells even worse than Szarr Palace and the individuals walking around are very obviously somewhere between a rotting zombie and an intelligent, humanoid. Astarion had described a man like this once- Balthazaar- and to your recollection, the man was a Necromancer. 

 So none of this really bodes well for either one of you right now. 

 “We had a deal!” Leon spits at the man looking at him in amusement from the other side, “a soul for a soul- I brought you someone else’s loved one and you owe me.”

 “Hm,” the man says, “even when immortal, humans are still the dullest humanoid.” 

 “Ha!” You snort, Leon glaring at you, “what? You deserved that one.” 

  He growls something unintelligible towards you before turning to speak to the Necromancer again, but he’s already gone.

“You dolt!” you exclaim, “look at what you’ve done! You bored the man with the keys away.” 

 “Don’t you mean scare?”

“I know what I said- dick cheese,” you scrunch up your nose, stick out your tongue, and flip him off. 

  “Gods,” Leon groans, “you are as bad as Astarion. Maybe I should have tried to kill him the first time I asked to take you and he said no. Or I could have been more aggressive in my hunts, but of course the fucker has developed some basic common sense and combat skills.”

  Your face must reveal some element of shock because Leon just snorts and shakes his head in disdain.

 “That son-of-bitch never talked to you about that, did he?” 

 “Obviously not,” you quip, “does this look like the face of a person who knows what you are talking about?” 

  Leon looks at the ground- his shoulders slumped in defeat.

 “Victoria died,” he says flatly, “Dalyria killed her before the ritual. I came here, hoping she was waiting for me, but she wasn’t able to get out of the Ethereal Current.

“I ran into that Necromancer,” he says with disgust, “and he told me that he could bring back Victoria, but he needed the soul of another person’s loved one. An eye for an eye- to complete the spell. I had already done the original groundwork- you were the missing piece.

“I asked Astarion to talk to you two days after you both left Baldur’s Gate, since we all knew he had some weird attachment to a cat, but obviously you didn’t get a say.” 

  You are floored. This definitely should have been a conversation for you two to have- a child literally died! You would have happily helped! You will definitely be having a conversation with Astarion about this. You at least deserve to have a say over your own life force.

 “Ha, I thought he’d leave his guard down, slip up, something,” Leon scoffs, “but no. Every trap, every location, and every attempt has been thwarted by Astarion. Hells- I even fucking killed you before you left that portal and it’s like he’s still keeping me away from my daughter because he taught you to be suspicious. 

“I wish Cazador had been able to torture that runt one last time or better ye-“ 

  Somehow- your hand ends up around Leon’s vocal chords. And not just in a normal way- oh no. Your hand is submerged in his skin and is practically translucent. If you weren’t so positively pissed- you would have probably taken the time to throw up. 

 “You will not talk about him that way,” you leer into the man’s face and he does actually look afraid, “You would be lucky to be half the man Astarion is and if you slander his name one more time, I’m going to possess you and make you lap up disgusting, congealed blood off the floor- capiche?” 

  Leon continues to just look back at you in shock and horror so you tighten your grip.

“I SAID- CAPICHE!?” 

  Leon nods wordlessly and you let go of your chokehold on his vocal chords. You are also still in shock, but he doesn’t need to know that. He can’t know that you are very very new to this whole interactive ghost thing. 

 “What happens now?” You ask slowly, “do you know what is going to happen to us?” 

  Leon shrugs and just falls to the floor- sitting down against the cage in defeat.

“I don’t know, but I can’t imagine anything good.” 

 You frown, “what makes you say that?”

 “Because of us.”

 A chill runs up your spine and you begin to develop goose flesh along your arms. Slowly, you turn in the direction of Dalyria’s voice and what you see- you can hardly fathom. A blood curdling scream leaves your mouth. 

 Dalyria, Violet, Petras, Yousen, and Aurelia are all chopped up and sewn together at different places. One massive body with mismatched eyes adorning Dalyria’s head and the other eyes and mouths stitched shut. Dalyria has two tongues and drools pouring out of her mouth. They are all stitched onto Yousen’s torso but with Petras’ arms and legs. Every part is mutilated in some horrific way. 

  You put your face in your hands and sob so hard you begin to gag. 

 “Leon did this to us,” Dalyria slurs into the open, “we were the groundwork. Miss Incognito is still being worked on, but she’s gone too.” 

 No! You scream to yourself, no! They should all be happy- living their lives! Not- not this!

 You favored Astarion, but you did like the others and you liked Victoria too. You tried to help them too when you could and they are- were- genuinely good people who never deserved this.

   With shaking hands and chattering teeth- you feel something light up inside of you and a wave of red blurs your vision. 

 “You MONSTER!” You scream, getting up right, “you had no right!”

  You kick your foot and will it to become translucent and it does. Leon’s head goes flying backwards into the cage and you try not to think about the squishy contents on your shoes. 

 The rage, grief, and sadness in your body is all inflicted onto Leon in crazy, supernatural ways. You are blinded by powers you didn’t even know you had, you barely even remember what actions you took or spells you unintentionally cast. 

  When Leon is finally lifeless and destroyed- you go to the other side of the cage and curl up in a ball in the corner. 

 You’ve never killed anyone and you are beginning to regret it now. Leon is unrecognizable and you struggle to look away.

 Did you really just condemn a man to death because he had tried to get his beloved daughter back?

 “What an impressive display of power!” 

  You look up and come eye to eye with a Lich of all the fucking things. Astarion is going to be so upset with you when he finds you. You can already hear him castigating you.

 “WHAT IN THE WRETCHED HELLS WERE YOU THINKING!?” 

 Oh, you were just thinking that he may leave without you if he thought you fucked off and you love him too much to never see him again. 

 Just some silly little feelings is all. 

 For once, you are being the impulsive one. Hopefully Astarion is prepared to be the prepared one this time. 

 If he even comes for me, you think, I wouldn’t have gotten within 100 feet of this place if I had known there was a Lich here.

 “You know, Leon said there was something special about you,” he circles the cage, “I thought he was talking out of his ass.

“How wonderful of him to have brought me such an incredible gift before his untimely demise. I suppose he should consider himself lucky- at least this way he can see his daughter again.”

 The Lich chortles and a shiver goes up your spine as one of his lithe fingers reaches through the cage and strokes the side of your face. You feel your tears start up again in full force and then he cuts your cheek with his nail before lapping up the ectoplasm that flows through your veins through the cage. His breath is foul and rancid- his tongue feels like sandpaper on your skin.

 “Mmmmm delicious,” the Lich smiles, “it’s a shame you’ve found a way to be useful to me and my research. Hopefully I will be able to indulge in you later.” 

 No, no, no! This can’t be happening.

  “Pl-pleas-please don’t hurt me,” you say through sobs and tears, “I wo-won’t tell anyone what I saw- I will never come back here! Please!” 

 The Lich frowns and looks annoyed with you. 

“Orcus help me, I hate beggars and weaklings,” he scoffs, “I’ll keep you with me so when I have use for you again- I know you won’t be very far.” 

 A searing pain roars through your body and the world goes completely dark.

****************************************************************

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan @beepersteeper

Special thanks to @davenswitcher thank you for helping me brain storm 💜