#mr. brown x reader

[miguel-owhora]

i don't write for him but thinking about pinning hobie's legs to his chest and splitting his pussy open on your cock hngh. he's so long and skinny, he's a literal beanpole, so it's relatively easy to pin him down. he'd be so smug about it, but i feel like he'd definitely let you have your way with him.

he probably has some sort of piercing on his clit, one that glints when the lowlight catches it. he keeps himself trimmed and neat, and he'd bite his lip with half-lidded eyes as you both watch your cockhead push against his fat lips and slide between his slick slit. fuck, just imagine your cockhead kissing his swollen tcock, the jacob ladder piercings lining your cock making his cunt flutter.

i can just imagine hobie tilting his head back, eyes fluttering shut as a low groan slips past his lips when you sink in. your cock bullies its way inside, the bumps of your piercings scraping against his gummy walls and making him shudder, gasping so wetly as your cockhead kisses his cervix.

and knowing how skinny this mf is, i can imagine hobie giving you a smug smirk when he presses his hand to the bump in his belly, and pressing down on it, relishing the grunt that escapes you.

[the-kr8tor]

Mr and Mrs Smith AU: When Jane met John

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 9k

Summary: Joining a spy agency? Check ✓ Hired in said agency? Check ✓ Getting a new fancy house? Check ✓ An entire armoury of weapons at your disposal? Check ✓ A new Husband? Check ✓ wait, what?

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie and R call each other by fake names (ie: John, Jane, Smith etc), spy AU, CW suggestive, CW food mentions, TW blood, CW violence, CW vomit mention, TW death.

A/N: Happy 1k! Happy reading!!!❤️

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The waiting room seems like it's designed to make you extra anxious. From the bright fluorescent lights that whir above, to the carpet that smells like a very harsh citrus soap. Add the metallic chairs that's incredibly cold under your slacks— It all makes you bounce your leg from the bundle of nerves inside your stomach. The people waiting around you don't help either, they all look like they came out of magazine covers. Hair all tied up in a perfect bun, pencil skirts that cinch their waist perfectly. Button ups that are ironed until there's no crease in sight.

You bite your lip, eyes glued on the steel door, to where your last resort is, to where your entire future depends on. Looking around the room full of models, it doesn't seem like you're applying for a security job.

Maybe you should've worn that pencil skirt that's gathering dust in your closet.

Even though you technically don't know what kind of job it is, you really need to get this one, or else. Your savings could only get you so far. An old ‘friend’ of yours recommended this ‘company’. It operates at the highest security, the risk is just as high, but the pay is higher. More than what you've ever earned in the five years you've worked anyway.

Flicking your eyes above the door, the light finally turns green from red, and a chiming sound can be heard as the door clicks open on its own. You still wonder where the applicant goes after their interview since you never saw them exit out the same door. A morbid thought passes by your mind: a gun plus a bullet to the head. The image makes you grab the rubber band on your wrist to slap it against your skin. It leaves the stinging pain for only a moment, but it's enough to throw away the vision from your brain.

An applicant enters and you look down at the piece of paper in your hand— you're next.

The number, 2715 is written in Times New Roman. You can recognize that font anywhere, for it's the same font used on newer gravestones, the same font on his— you slap the rubber band against your wrist again. This time harder than the last. The stinging stays for a minute more. Your heels tap against the carpet, the clock ticks, the fluorescent whirs, someone coughs and you want to punch them in the face— you slap the rubber band against your skin again.

Your ears perk up at the familiar chime like you've been Pavlov’d by the sound after waiting for three hours on that uncomfortable metal chair that has tiny holes that you've gotten your pinky finger stuck in on hour two.

With a deep breath, you saunter your way towards the creaking door, trying to summon all the confidence in your body. They may be watching so you do your best to not look as nervous as you feel like.

As you enter the room, the large screen in the center raises a curious brow. The light from the monitor shines a spotlight on the singular office chair right in front of it. The room is dim, save for the single light. The screen reminds you of one of those mall touch screens that shows you the map of the building. There's another door on the opposite wall, now you know where all the other candidates exit, and it's definitely not from a bullet judging from the clean floors.

With a tentative step, you cross the distance. Sitting down, the chair is a comfortable welcome from the last one you sat on.

“Am I supposed to push a button?” You roam your eyes over the circular shape up top. You surmise that it's the camera.

The calming sky blue screen flashes words,

> Hihi, welcome

“Hi?”

> Insert nail clippings

A box slides out below the screen, prompting you to take the ziplock with your nail clippings from your bag. It slides back in with a mechanic hiss once you place the plastic on the drawer, and the screen blinks to a couple of questions that you answer honestly.

> What's your ethnicity?

You don't falter. Answering it truthfully.

> Height?

You clear your throat, the lump is either from the nerves or how your voice faltered when you answered.

> Are you willing to relocate?

You wring your hands together on your lap. “Yes, absolutely. Nothing's holding me back.” Then the dreaded question pops up on the bright screen.

> Tell me about yourself

“Uh, I graduated top of my class.” You scratch the back of your neck. “MI6 agent for three–no, uh four years.” Chuckling shakily, you continue. “I got high merits…w-well until the thing— but I was on the road to promotion b-before it happened.” God, you hate interviews.

> Words that people would describe you with?

You blink, sucking in a breath. “Truthfully?” Joking, the screen doesn't appreciate your humour.

> Yes

“Oh, p-people would describe me as a… someone who has initiative. Cunning…” unfeeling— you slap the band on your wrist again. Sitting up right, you gaze at the camera like your eyes could see the person typing behind it. You guess it's a person at least. “Passed all my training with flying colours, infiltration, marksmanship, hand to hand, you name it. You tell me the job and I'll do it with no questions asked.”

> Are you okay with high risk?

“More than okay.” You answer quickly.

> With a team or alone?

“I'm alright with either, but I prefer alone.”

> Why did you get fired?

“You know why.” You say intensely, eyes boring holes into the screen. For a second you thought you flubbed it but the screen continues to flash a new question.

> Have you killed anyone?

> And why?

The question turns into what you're more accustomed to. “Yes, approximately…” you inhale sharply. “Forty three. Two unintentionally, the rest with various…weapons.” You mindlessly play with the loose thread of your blazer to get rid of the flashing images in your head. “As for why, that's confidential information.”

The robot or the person behind the screen seems to accept your vague answers for it moves on with the interview.

> Favourite food?

Your eyebrows knit at the sudden turn of question. “Uh, I have a sweet tooth, ice cream. I think. But I can't resist good popcorn.” Your tone wavers at the end.

> Have you been in love?

You laugh, but the question still flashes on screen, unchanged and unamused. Clamping up, you feel for the rubber on your wrist.

“I-I'm sorry but what is this part for?”

The screen remains the same.

“—No,” you remember that they've probably already known everything about you even before you applied. So you decide to answer vaguely, that seems to work out before. “Once, just once.”

> When was the last time you said ‘I love you?’

“A long time ago.”

> To whom?

“You know who.”

—

You're surprised that you got the job even after the disastrous interview. The suitcase is light in your tightly clasped hand. The belongings you've tossed inside are sparse, only packing the ones you only need.

The large wooden door looms in front of you, the street behind you is bustling and right across your new home is an expansive park. A park that looks like you need to pay just to get inside. The neighborhood that you're situated in can be described as exclusive, rich and very suburban. The kind of setting where parents would do anything to raise their kids in. Something you've never thought in your dangerous life to live in, more so even step foot in.

With an exhale, you unlock the door. It clicks open surprisingly, you doubted the company for a second when you pushed it in. Maybe they gave you the wrong address? Maybe something went wrong in their system and your name popped up instead of someone more worthy? Someone who's a better shot, someone who isn't as bat shit insane as you.

The long hallway greets you, the low warm light brings comfort to your rattling bones. Its carpet runner is soft beneath your sneakers, red and blue threads weaved around the thick cloth. Framed art is posted on the walls, the artist's name you recognize from some pretentious reality tv about selling mansions that you once drunkenly watched alone on a friday night.

You leave your baggage in the hallway. Opting to explore the cinnamon scented home. Its rich walls remind you of chocolate that you once got for your birthday. The furniture doesn't look like it came from Ikea, the oak is sturdy under your palm, no rough surface, no protruding nails that slashes your flesh.

You snap the rubber band on your wrist for the umpteenth time today.

There's an ornate door sitting on your right, robins and roses are carved on the wood. The biometric scanner is placed right next to the door, it’s a stark contrast to the traditional home. Flipping the cover open, you place your thumb on the smooth surface of the scanner. After a half second, the door clicks open, revealing a steel elevator. The bright light above it almost blinds you.

Your curiosity makes you enter the steel cage, roaming your eyes, you spot the buttons.

“Might as well.” You say to the emptiness of the house.

As the elevator door closes, the front door opens.

There's a lack of elevator music, perhaps that's the best since you always hated the cheery chiming of it. The second the door opens, you take a peek inside. The weird smell combination of chlorine and butter hits your nose.

“Holy shit,” you mumble in disbelief at the indoor pool and theatre. “A fucking pool under the house? And a fucking theatre screen in front? Which rich fuck decided that?” Your voice echoes, bouncing off the tiled walls of the pool.

Roaming the large room, eyes wide and strides small, you marvel at the high ceilings with the same warm tone lights hidden in the coves to soften the lights. You crouch down, letting the warm water lap at your hand.

There's a handful of sun loungers on the side, tables in between them for drinks and whatever rich people put on it. A projector hangs above the pool, an electrical hazard, you thought and an image of an entire pool party getting electrocuted lingers in your mind. You snap the rubber band against your wrist.

The popcorn machine helps distract you from the intrusive thought. Opening the machine, the popped kernels are still warm against your skin. You quickly scoop up a handful of it in your palm, the butter slicking your hand and your mouth as you eat it like how a baby deer eats grass.

You've had enough of the overly decorated basement, getting back on the elevator, you finish off your popcorn with one big bite. Still chewing, you wipe your hands on your trousers to press the shiny buttons on the elevator. The doors close as you chew loudly, eyes up on the screen showing the floors of the house, you don't notice the stranger standing outside of the opened doors.

Butter on your lips, you almost smack him on his pretty face.

“Christ!” You yelp, almost choking on a kernel.

“Close, but no.” He smirks, eyes flicking at the sheen on your lips.

Your husband, the title echoes in your popcorn filled head. His smile captures your attention, a ten megawatt grin that could power the entire posh neighborhood. His piercings glimmer in the warm light, and your eyes are glued to the ones on his eyebrows. Hazel eyes, the left one seems to be lighter than the other, watercolour eyes stare back at you, scanning your features. If you stare long enough you swear you can see patches of green and gray in those expressive eyes.

“John Smith.” He introduces himself, your husband, your partner. John doesn't raise his ringed hand for you to shake, instead he nods at you, waiting patiently for you to say your name. As if he doesn't know.

Clearing your kernel filled throat, you quickly run your tongue across your teeth (with your mouth closed of course) because you don't want to embarrass yourself further by having popcorn stuck in your teeth.

“Jane, Jane Smith.” You reach towards him to shake his hand, he raises a brow at you in turn.

“I don't do that, love, sorry.”

“Shake hands?”

“Yeah,” he looks to the left of your face, his eyebrow twitches slightly— a tell.

“Are you a germaphobe?” You ask before you could stop yourself.

“Not really, I've got issues…with intimacy.” John shrugs, the metals on his leather jacket clinks together. You think he'd rather be a model or a rock star instead of a spy with how he dresses and carries himself with confidence.

You smile knowingly, “We all do, but you don't have that issue. It's our first day of marriage and you decide to lie to your wife?” You click your tongue, eyebrow raised. “Not a very good first impression, John.”

He'll never get used to being called that basic name. ‘John’ takes your hand, it's warm, searing hot under your slippery hand. You'd thought his warmth would cook your flesh, you guess the butter on your palm would work wonders. You're starting to regret snacking. The calluses on his palm matches your own, a large scar across his palm tells you a story untold. Silver rings decorate his long fingers. There's a more simple silver bracelet on his wrist, a stark contrast to the ornate rings he sports on both hands.

He's handsome, you think, rightfully so. With his chiseled jaw that rivals any greek statue and eyes that could be mistaken for stars; he's tall too, so that's a plus. You lucked out on the fake husband department. Well, there's worse men to fake marry out there. Just judging from first impressions, you're glad he's the one you have on your side,

“How'd you know?” He asks, eyes narrowed.

“I'm very perceptive.”

“Trained?”

“Nope,” you hide your bundle of nerves with your casual tone. His hand is still clasped on your own, you don't notice it. “Just very good at reading people.”

“Did you have a stint at the BAU too?”

Too? You ignore it for now. “No,” chuckling, you finally notice the heat on your palm so you let him go. “Just…natural talent, I guess.”

“What’s under the house?” John asks, stepping aside so you could exit the elevator.

“A beating heart.” You curse yourself, fingers already reaching for the rubber band on your wrist.

To your surprise, John laughs. The sound is genuine, eyes crinkling in the corners. “I got the reference.”

“I figured.”

“I saw a black box in the office, you wanna check it out?” He points behind him with his thumb.

“Why? Do you think there's a beating heart in there too?”

“Maybe.” He plays along, walking beside you. “You never know with the company, for all we know there's a head in there.”

“Morbid.” You joke as he opens the door for you.

“Says you?” John keeps reminding himself of his real name whilst he memorizes the side of your face. He already wants to tell you his real name, not the one assigned to him by the suits behind the faceless screen he has grown familiar with. He says his name in his mind again, if he accidentally blurted it out, well, c'est la vie.

“Says me,” you shrug casually, trying to keep up with his wit and charm. You already think you're losing. You scrunch your face at the painting above the mantle. It's an art of two lovers doing the tango, if tango excludes clothes and includes intense snogging.

He chuckles right next to you, an airy laugh that has you smiling too. “A very brave choice. Not my taste, but whatever floats the company's boat. What's inside is a bit better though.” Your ‘husband’ reaches towards the frame of the painting, gently pressing down, it releases a metallic click as it reveals a secret compartment full of weapons.

You hide a snort behind your hand. The cabinet reminds you of your own. Unimpressed, you flick your eyes down at the office table, the large black box sitting on top of it is just begging to be opened.

Without a second thought, you open it. Taking out the bottle of expensive looking wine, you read the card that is tied in a neat ribbon around the neck.

“‘Good luck on your first day of marriage’” you look at the man beside you. He's incredibly close to you, his elbow grazing yours, lips slightly parted whilst he takes a peek at the wine. He smells of burgundy and leather, it calms your senses for some odd reason. “I prefer coke.” You practically shove the bottle in his hands. The glass clinks against his metal rings.

“The snorting variation or the fizzy one?” He asks, placing the bottle down on the narra table with an almost silent thud.

“The fizzy one.” You take his question at face value. He doesn't question why you don't prefer alcohol. Sitting down on the plush office chair, you open the laptop in front of you. It dings, needing a password to open it. “It needs a—”

Before you could even finish the question, he gives you a scrap of paper from the numerous envelopes inside the box. The password is printed on it with the same font as the one from the piece of paper you held a couple of weeks ago.

You type it whilst he rifles through the box. The home screen pops up, nothing too fancy or out of the ordinary. Except for the single application in the corner that's only labeled as ‘S’

Clicking it, a chat box appears.

> Hihi, follow man

John snakes up next to you, the harsh light from the laptop shines on his pensive face. You return your attention towards ‘your boss’. A picture of a young blond man pops up in the chat, there's a mole near his left eye, he sports dark eyebrows. And a look that says ‘daddy paid for my college!’

> 40.748817, -73.985428

“That's downtown I think.” John pipes up next to you, and you look at him like he just said the sky is green and the grass is blue.

> Take keys, take car. Bring car here

> 51.505554, -0.075278.

“A car?” You rhetorically ask.

“Must be a very expensive car, or an important one.” John answers back as he leans further down to take a better look at the monitor. His hand is on the back of your chair, his necklaces dangle on his neck like a pretty chandelier.

You both wait for more instructions but it doesn't come.

“Hihi isn't very talkative, huh?” Your voice echoes in the awkward silence.

“‘Hihi?’”

“Yeah, I thought I'd give it a nickname.” You think he's weirded out but with an amused laugh he pats your shoulder nonchalantly.

“Cute.” You don't know if he's referring to you, or to the nickname you dubbed your electronic boss. “I've separated our papers.” John says as you still contemplate his last comment. “Here's yours.”

“Thanks.” You scan the pile in your hands. Your own face greets you as you flip through it all.

“It has everything we need. Credit card, ID's, carry permit and a passport.”

“What's that one?” You point at the larger envelope next to John's pile. A smaller black leather envelope sits atop it.

He opens the large envelope, giving you the contents of it. “Marriage certificate. And this one…” shaking the leather envelope, whatever is inside of it clinks. Taking it out, he shows you the gold bands. “...our wedding rings.” Heat rises in your cheeks unavoidably once he says it softly. “May I?” Open palm reaching out, he beckons.

You try to remember which hand wears it. With a split second decision, you place your left hand atop his own. Carefully sliding the cold ring in your marriage finger, you stay locked in on his eyes that's concentrating like he's disarming a bomb.

John pats your hand and then inserts his own ring in his finger, mirroring yours.

“Guess we're married.” You shrug casually like your heart doesn't beat against your ribcage, like it's trying to escape its confines. “It feels kind of weird?”

“We are,” he flashes you his signature smirk. “And we'll get used to it, hm, wife?”

“Yeah, I'll adapt.” You say just barely above a whisper, hands suddenly clammy.

“That's my girl.” Throwing you a wink, he walks away from a flustered you.

Yeah, you got lucky.

—

Morning comes and you had the best sleep you've had in years. Even if you slept on an empty stomach last night, you still slept like a baby on the eight hundred thread count Egyptian cotton blanket. You stare blankly at the beige ceiling, hands roaming around the soft bed sheet like you're making a snow angel. Sleep ridden eyes roam around the expansive master bedroom to which your new husband has graciously let you take.

Speaking of ‘John’, his bedroom is just across your own. Surprisingly enough, he hasn't woken up yet based on the silence in the hallway outside, you hadn't pegged him as a late riser.

Breakfast calls for you when your stomach rumbles loudly, but you're too comfortable to even move from your spot. Something taps from your window that's facing the foot of your bed. A soft tippy tap of something hitting the glass that has you sitting up. Eyes blinking rapidly, you stare off a pigeon perched outside. Its iridescent feathers shine in the early morning sun, its beak tapping rhythmically at the window.

Sliding your hand behind you, blindly grasping at a pillow, you fling it across the room to scare off the bird. The pillow hits your mark and out flies away the annoying pigeon. With a sigh, you get off your ass to get ready for the day ahead. You don't want to be late to your first day out in the field, no use in rotting in your luxurious bed if you can't keep it after you get fired for being late.

You dress for the day and for the cool weather. Spring has come but the freezing temperature has decided to stay for a little while. With a cozy turtleneck and comfy slacks, you forgo the torturous device called ‘heels’ for a pair of trainers. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you shrug with a huff. And you snap the rubber against your skin once again.

Taking the chair off the doorknob and then unlocking the door, you exit your sanctuary. Closing your door softly, you find yourself in front of John's room. Judging from the soft snores, you notice that he’s still sleeping. You might be his fake wife but it's not your job to wake him up. So you continue down the hallway and into the kitchen to fix yourself a bowl of cereal.

Bowl in hand, you chew as you walk up to the rooftop. Unlocking it, the sun greets you with a comfortable heat, and you frown at it. You keep eating whilst you explore the space. There's a bountiful garden in the corner, raised garden beds full of fresh vegetables and fruit that is ripe for the taking. An outside dining area sits in the middle, you recognize the long table from a catalog you once read to pass the time at the dentist. You remember that it doubles as a grill and leg warmer in the winter.

“Fancy,” you murmur with your mouth full of grainy goodness. Sipping the leftover milk in the bowl, you place it on the expensive table to crouch down next to a bushel of strawberries to sniff. “Almost ripe,” you figure from the softness of the fruit.

A bird flies above you, it's shadow casting over you. With the sound of fluttering wings, the bird perches on the table, black orbs staring at you, head tilting like it's observing your presence.

“Are you the same fucking bird?” You question the pigeon. It coos at you, and then pecks at the ceramic of your discarded bowl. “Motherfucker—” standing up, you have the look of someone ready to square up with the feathered creature.

“Why are you fighting an innocent bird?” John appears with a mug of tea in his hand. You forgot to make tea.

“I wasn't fighting with it.”

“He,” your partner crosses the distance, the bird doesn't fly away from the close proximity. You raise an eyebrow at that. “might be hungry.” He gestures towards the strawberries behind you with his chin. “Think you can grab us one, lovie?” You're gonna need some time to get used to that term.

“It's not ripe.”

“I don't think he's picky.”

“It's too sour, it might upset his stomach.”

“He's a pigeon, he's used to eating shit off the pavement. I think that's fine, love.”

With an awkward nod, you pick the one that's redder than the rest. Throwing it towards John, he catches it with a practiced hand. He sits down before laying the fruit in front of the bird. You watch it unfold, the pigeon hops on the table, beak pecking at the seeds. You're intrigued at their interaction.

John sips at his drink, still in his sleep clothes. Toned arms in full display from the loose tank top he sports. Pajama pants hanging low on his hips, silk bonnet on his head. He only has one sock on his feet, you tilt your head.

“What happened to your sock?” You point at his bare foot curiously.

“Hmm?” He looks down, and he chuckles like he just realized the missing article of clothing. “Don't know, probably kicked it off while I was sleepin’”

“Oh,” you blink, “you should get ready, we might miss our target.”

He fakes salutes at you, drinking casually from his mug as you leave the rooftop. He doesn't miss how you didn't take your dish with you. Sighing, he watches the pigeon eat his fill.

—

You and John arrive at a pub. It's dim inside with only a few miserable patrons sitting sparsely at different corners of the musty establishment. They all look miserable, all having expressions from different points of the human emotion. But there's only one face you're observing— your target.

He sits alone on the bar stool, back hunched, eyes red and nursing a half filled pint of beer. Holding his face in his hand, blond hair raked in between his fingers, bomber jacket hanging loosely on his form, bags under his sagging eyes. He's the picture of someone who's on the bottom of the barrel.

John guides you with his hand hovering on your back. Not touching, at the same time still close, you are supposed to be a couple after all. You slide into a booth that has the perfect view of the target, but still out of his sight and out of earshot. The leather seat is worn down, tiny bits of it are ripped, at least it's not sticky. He orders for you, and you observe how he slyly roams his eyes towards the man, looking out for the keys.

He comes back with a plate of chips and dip. “Thought it would be weird not to order anythin’”

“Good call,” you take a chip whilst your eyes only briefly leave the target's back. “Thought you'd buy me a pint.”

“Did you want a pint? This early? Do you want to talk about it?” He half jokes as he takes a smaller chip.

“No,” you scoff, “and no. I just thought you'd order it instead of this.”

“You're not the only perceptive one in this relationship.” John looks over his shoulder to quickly do a once over at the forlorn man.

“Did you see where he's keeping it?”

“Inside his jacket, right side.”

You nod, “Is he carrying?”

“Not that I can tell.” He shrugs, licking the salt off his finger. “So, why'd you join?”

“Really? We're doing that?” You watch as the man gulps down his remaining drink and then orders a new one immediately.

“Yes, we're doin' that. Won't that make us work better together? To get to know each other a bit more?”

“Fine,” you silently huff. “No one else would take me, this is a last resort, I guess?”

“Bullshit, love, I think anyone would be happy to have you in their…agency?”

“Flattery won't get you anywhere, birdman.” A small smile appears on your lips, he beams at you. “Besides, who else is hiring for someone with the specific skill set that I have?”

He hums, while turning subtly to take a peek at the target. Returning his attention to you after seeing the blonde man still hunched in his stool, John takes another chip. “True, did you get kicked out from the last one?”

“Not really,” you stare at the crack on the wooden table. “You?”

“Not really,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“You MI6?” He asks casually. “This your first time in London?”

“I'm not answering either of those questions.”

“C’mon,” he wiggles his left hand, the wedding band shines in the pub light. “Husband, remember? ‘sides, I won't tell anyone.”

You place your elbows on the table, smiling sarcastically at him. After a beat for his anticipation, you grin wider. “No.”

His shoulders fall, a chortle escaping his lips. “Cheeky.” Pointing an accusing finger at you, he quickly looks behind him, only to find the target sluggishly exiting the pub. “He's on the move.”

You both follow the drunk man like gravity is pulling you towards him. Walking the streets of busy downtown London, stranger's faces whizz past you. John has his hands casually in his pockets, yet he stays close to you, eyes flicking in the corners to check on you.

“Why don't you ask me a question? Y’know tit for tat?” He waits patiently for you to answer back, hell he'll even take a grunt at this point.

“Okay,” you surprisingly start the conversation on his behalf. “Have you killed anyone?” The passing pedestrians don't seem to notice you and the morbid subject.

Your partner snorts, nose scrunched up, eyes glued on the staggering target. “Nah. Have you?”

“I call bullshit,” you dodge a distracted woman scrolling on her phone. “Anyway, I have. I'm not exactly proud of it or flaunting it if you're thinking that I'm doing that.”

“Good, once you start flaunting it like a bloody trophy, you've lost it.”

You hum in agreement, the sound of a deep rumble in your chest as you two turn a corner. “Why do you think hihi needs us to nick the car?”

“Hihi” he chuckles, you turn to him with a serious face. “There's probably a stash of confidential information in the trunk or somethin’”

“Maybe a stash of weapons?” The man in front of you stumbles. “I don't see him as the type to harbor secret documents.”

John nods, “a highly infectious disease then?”

“Christ, we better drive carefully once we get a hold of it.” You turn to him briefly. “Maybe it's a really expensive sports car and he's all sad and mopey because he's gone broke after buying it?”

“Got a whole story now, huh?” He pushes you lightly with his leather clad shoulder, and you smile softly. “You good at pickpocketing him?” Your partner gestures with his chin, said target is walking into traffic. He seems unbothered by the oncoming vehicles. John curses under his breath.

“We should do that now before he kills himself.” You speed walk across the crossing, grabbing the drunk man before a car hits him.

Arms enveloping around his bomber jacket, swiping him away and quickly carrying him to the footpath, you save him before an suv hits you both. The car honks loudly and angrily as your target groans in your arms like he's about to hurl the contents of his stomach.

John punches the hood of the car, pointing at the driver accusingly. A distraction for you to take the keys hidden in the man's jacket.

“You almost hit my fuckin' wife, you wanker!” Your partner yells, covering the sound of jingling keys in your expert hand. He plays the part well.

Surprisingly, the target straightens up in your hold, a split second after you pocketed the car keys inside your own coat.

“Y-you,” he slurs, feet struggling to keep himself upright. “Dickhead!” Slamming his fists on the hood with a loud *thunk, he joins John who gives you a look and a shrug. The drunken yelling gets louder and the driver now exits his car with an equally angry look.

John takes this opportunity to come back to your side, hand holding your elbow, he leads you away from the screaming match as more and more people try to intervene.

“Got it?” He whispers closely to the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps to rise in your arms.

“‘course I did.” You jingle the keys inside your pocket. “I'm not an amateur.”

Playing along, he laughs, hand still holding your elbow softly. “Good job, missus.”

With an awkward chuckle, you lean away from him. “Just so you know, I'm not in this for…the romance.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I'm not looking to date my co-worker.”

John raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine by me. if the situation calls for us to actually act as a couple—”

“We'll act as a couple, I won't fuss if that's what you're saying.”

“Good, now let's get this bloody car.”

—

“A fucking ‘99 toyota corolla?” You stare in disbelief at the rusting metal. “At least it's one of the good models.” Kicking the wheel, you expect it to tumble over like in an old timey cartoon.

John is crouched way down to check the bottom of the car. “It's clear.” He stands up fully, cleaning his hands on his jeans. You wince at his movements. “What?”

“Nothing.” You open the driver's side, the smell of alcohol and something musty hits your nose. “Nasty.” Coughing, you air it out by opening another door.

“You know your cars?”

“A little bit.” You say with your nose pinched. Sparing him a look, he stands in the parking lot like he's still waiting for the rest of the story. “What?”

“Throw me a bone here, love.” You roll your eyes. “Why do you know so much about cars?”

“I said I know a little bit.” You place your hands on your hips like an exasperated mother whose son keeps asking weird questions about dinosaurs. “I dated a mechanic.” You say flatly.

“Really? Did you date a pickpocket too? Or do you date people so you could absorb their skills like kirby?”

“Are you jealous?” You tease him with a comment you didn't have the foresight that it would backfire.

“We are married.” He says matter-of-fact with a killer smirk and eyes glinting with mischief. “And this is technically our honeymoon so—”

“Get in the fucking car, birdman.”

—

The wheel is sticky under your hands, you have an intense urge to wash your hands or to at least grab a sanitizer. Apparently your disgust shows on your face, for John chortles next to you.

“What?” You say through gritted teeth.

“Nothin’, you just look like someone shat in your tea.”

“The wheel is sticky.”

“I have a handkerchief with me, d’you want me to?” Taking out the dark green cloth from his jean pockets, he's already twisting in his seat to wipe it clean.

“Please,” you ask softly, hands sliding down to make space for him.

Your hand never left the wheel while he cleans it for you. John's seatbelt is unclasped so he could have more movement, his face is close to your vision, warmth blanketing over you. He's so close that you can smell his cologne, it's a different one from yesterday, it's more flowery with a hint of mint. You spot a hidden mole under his ear. A tiny dot that is just begging to be poked.

Without thinking, you press softly with the pad of your finger. He yelps, flinching away instinctively. Looking at you with wide eyes and mouth agape, you're ready to be called a nasty nickname, or be cussed out with a loud voice. Instead of what you're anticipating, a laugh bellows out, a rumbly laugh that makes you smile and let out an almost silent chortle.

“I think you found my mole.” John holds the side of his neck with a grin. “You let your urges get to you, love.”

“Sorry,” you keep your eyes on the road to hide your embarrassment.

“It's fine, your hand was just cold. Ask me next time, I have a few more cute moles on me.”

“Nevermind, you ruined it.” With a roll of your eyes and a smile, you park at the coordinates. “Nice acting back there, I see an Emmy nomination for you in the future.”

“Thanks, I barely remember what I said. You sure this is the place?” John peeks at the map pulled up on your phone. “Shit, we're here.”

The entire street is suburban, large colonial houses lining the sides, tall pine trees decorate the sidewalks. There's not a lot of people walking by, save for a couple pedestrians walking their dogs, the place is devoid of people.

“What now?” You unclasp your seatbelt to twist around in your seat so you could observe the neighborhood.

“Hihi told us to bring it here, so maybe we should—?” John lets out a high pitched scream that also has you yelling in surprise, not from whatever made him shriek but from the sound that escaped him. “What the fuck!”

Leaning slightly to look at what had his knickers in a bunch, you stare blankly at a bespectacled man in a bespoke suit. The man gives you and your partner an apologetic look, he points for John to open the window.

He turns towards you with an eyebrow raised. “Should I?”

“Yeah, I think you should.”

“What if he's got a gun?” He whispers.

“We also have guns, John. I'll cover you, don't worry. Maybe this is what hihi asked us to do.”

“Easy for you to say, you're not the one opening it.” He gives you a glare before rolling the window down an inch. “Hi, mate. What can we do for you?”

“The car,” the stranger points a lengthy finger at the wheel. His voice is crackly and gravelly, like he just smoked a pack of cigarettes before he went up to the car. “You're late, but that doesn't matter. How much do I owe you, folks?”

“Uh, the usual.” You say with fake confidence.

“Good,” the lean man straightens up, “mind gettin’ out of the car then?”

“Right, sorry, bruv.” John, gives you one look before exiting the car. He's nervous and so are you.

As the doors shut, the man flexes his open palms expectantly for the keys, to which you hand off immediately. He gives you bad vibes, maybe your intuition tells you to run for the hills.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I'll wire the money to the usual account.” The nickname sends shivers down your spine.

He closes the door and starts up the car. With a splutter of the exhaust, he slowly drives away. You and John watch, standing side by side in the middle of the street in confusion.

“He was weird, right? Not to mention it was too easy.” You turn your head to look at him. “Maybe they're trying to ease us in?”

“It was all weird, not just him—” A blast coming from the car interrupts him, the sheer force of it sends you two down on the rough pavement.

Your cheeks are incredibly warm from the searing heat of the bomb. The light from it blinds the two of you.

Palms skinned, trousers slashed at the knees, your ears ring loudly like an annoying buzz from a broken microphone. Coughing loudly, smoke fills your lungs, debris is scattered around the once pristine neighborhood. There's blood on the concrete, you can't hear John calling for you, your vision is blurred by the cloud of smoke. His hand reaches for you, and your instincts tell you to run.

“Fuck!” He yells, running beside you at full speed. “What the fuck!”

“Keep running!” You yell as he turns around to check on a woozy you. “I'm fine!”

Someone behind you screams for you to stop so you and your partner run faster. Knees aching, thighs burning, you don't stick around to look who's running after you. The unmistakable click of a gun’s safety is loud in your eardrums, even if your lungs threaten to give out, you sprint right next to John as he turns a corner and into a carwash.

The smell of soap and heavy pine scented car freshener hits your bloody nose. He tugs you towards the plastic curtains and inside what you presume as the employee lounge, someone yells after you but it falls on deaf ears as you and John continue your escape.

Exiting the establishment, the metal doors open to a messy alleyway. Boxes upon boxes of trash and god knows what are littered all around. The pungent smell makes you want to hurl, or maybe that's the adrenaline having a weird effect on your stomach.

You two find reprieve for a second, huffing, trying to get oxygen back in. Hands on your aching thighs, the concrete below you slowly turns crimson as your mysterious injury drips precious blood on the messy ground.

“You're bleedin’” He says in between inhales. There's rustling of fabric next to you, and you feel the warm cloth placed on your forehead.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Waving the drenched cloth away, you scoff lightly. “Don't.”

“What am I supposed to do? Let you bleed?”

You stand up straight, blood coating your lashes as you stare at him. “I've got a better idea.” Placing your palms on the source of the pain, you let your blood coat it.

“What—?” You roughly smudge the warm ichor all over his face and shirt, the plain white of his t-shirt turns a dark pink shade with your touch. Leaning away, he gives you a slow nod of understanding. “Ease us in, huh?”

“I'm rarely wrong and this is one of the rare instances.”

“Let's hope you're right about this one.”

—

You kick the backdoor open with ferocity. It bangs loud against the wall, getting the restaurant staff's attention.

“Help please! My husband!” John's limp arm is around your shoulders, your hand gripping on to his waist to add that one detail that would convince them of your innocence. “There was a bomb!” You don't let the bystanders touch you or John whilst you quickly lumber through their dinghy bathroom. There's murmurs and chairs scraping on the tiled floors as you lock the door behind you.

The bathroom is small, tiles yellowed from the years, the stench of bleach itching your nose. The lightbulb above you whirs like it's about to burst out. He leaves your side to take off his bloodied jacket, tossing it outside from the window— his exit, you presume.

“Your phone.” He holds his empty hand out to you, when you only raise an eyebrow at him, he sighs, eyes turning soft, adrenaline melting out of his system. “Please, c’mon, love, you got me sayin’ please and shit.”

“What for?” You try desperately to wipe the blood off your face.

“To contact you, just in case you need help.”

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can, how else did you get the job then? Just let me,” his voice wavers a bit but he corrects himself with a timed clear of his smoke filled throat. “Please, Jane.”

After pausing, you take your phone out from your pocket to give it to him. He enters his number after seeing your home screen of a basic mountain range.

“There.” Giving the phone back, you expected him to give his too, but he doesn't as he's already halfway out of the window. “I'll see you at home?”

You let out a chuckle, “yeah, I'll see you at home.” He gives you one last smile as he exits the small bathroom and into the streets where numerous sirens go off from ambulances and fire trucks.

—

It was a blur the entire trip home, you bought a loose hoodie from a thrift store and then promptly discarded your blood soaked coat in the bottom of a dumpster. It was a shame though, you liked that coat, it had real wool in the lining. The uber drive was thankfully uneventful, if the driver noticed the remnants of dried blood on your skin he didn't mention it. You gave him five stars for it.

An empty house greets you, John's shoes are nowhere to be seen in the hallway, nor his jacket. You worry for a second, mind rushing through possibilities. The rubber band burns as you pull it back and release it with a harsh thwack against your skin.

The water is cool as you shower, your blood mixing in and pooling around your feet and into the drain like a macabre whirlpool. You don't let your mind wonder about the man that you turned into a street pancake. Instead, you focus on yourself in the mirror.

You stare at the gash near your hairline, the skin around it is angry, leaving a throbbing sensation. There's also a few scratches on your face, especially around your chin. Your main concern is the large gash. It doesn't look like it needs to be stitched together though, which is a good thing since you don't have the energy to even tend to the tiny scratches on your palms. Cleaning and bandaging the wound, you put on clean pajamas and head to bed.

You stop in your tracks when you see John lying face down on your bed. Still in his iron soaked clothes, save for the jacket. You glare at his boot, it's off the bed but you still grit your teeth at the thought of it grazing your bedsheets.

He senses your presence, and he lifts his head up, chin helping prop himself up. “Your bed is better than mine.” His multi coloured eyes are laced with exhaustion, dull yet there's still a spark when he looks at your annoyed gaze.

“Who are you? Goldilocks?”

“Yeah, I ate your porridge too.”

“Damn, not my porridge.” Too tired to fight him, you slither into bed next to him, an arm's length away from his equally tired body. Staring at the ceiling, you feel his eyes on you. “What's up with your eyes?”

“It's called heterochromia—”

“I know what it is, I'm asking why you're staring at me like you're about to devour me.”

“I could devour you if you want.” He says nonchalantly but with the charisma of a man who knows what he's talking about.

“Maybe next time.” You blindly pat his shoulder which ended up with you patting his cheek. He hums at your touch, a deep rumble that you felt through the mattress. “Not bad for our first day huh?” Lifting your hand away, he twists on the bed to mirror your position. Now you're both gazing at the beige ceiling like it owes you money.

You're tired but for some reason you're fighting off the sandman from sprinkling sand in your heavy eyes.

“I lied back there, I've killed before.” His voice is merely above a whisper but you heard it as loud as a trumpet blaring in your ears.

“I know, you wouldn't be here if you haven't.” You answer with empathy. “If it makes you feel better, I've been to London before. Twice, on a family trip and a decade later…on vacation.”

“Glad to know.” He taps the inside of your elbow as a thank you for trusting him. “You CIA?” He blurts out above the comfortable silence.

“God no.” You truthfully say.

“And here I thought you're an alumni of the culinary institute of America.”

For the first time in years, you let out the loudest laugh you could muster. Snort and all.

Your ‘husband’ joins in with his own rambunctious laughter, the bed shakes at the loud guffaws. The happy sound fills the room, and your heart feels like it isn't as heavy as before. It's still there, the heaviness, but it isn't as cumbersome. You now realize that you've only snapped the rubber band on your wrist a couple times today.

An annoying tapping sound interrupts you both. Simultaneously sitting up by the elbows, you two tilt your head at the intruder.

“It's that pigeon again.” You actually smile at the thought of the same bird coming back to your house like a white strand of hair that keeps growing even after you've pulled it out. “I think we should name him. Something like Terry or Flanders.” You chuckle softly.

“Jeff.”

You shake your head. “Nope, doesn't suit him, what if it's a she?”

“His name is Jeff.” John turns to look at you, eyes full of certainty.

You turn to him, blinking rapidly in realization. “He's yours. He's your bird, isn't he?”

“You are insightful.” He smiles, a soft one that fills you with endearment that you haven't felt in years. “Met him a few months ago, fed him once and now he wouldn't leave me alone. I guess he followed me here too.”

“Y’know, pigeons are really smart, kinda like crows. He probably thinks you're his daddy.”

“Does that make you Jeff's mummy?”

“I don't want to be Jeff's mom.” Said bird taps on your window again, like he senses that you're currently talking about him.

“Too bad,” he raises his marriage finger, showing you the gold band. “He's our kid, love.”

You smile, hiding it with a huff and by laying back down with a gentle thump.

“Can I tell you somethin’?” His face pops up in your vision, you nod in place. “My real name is—”

“Let me stop you right there.” You sit back up, almost hitting his head with your own at how fast you sat. “There's a reason why they gave us fake names. Whether we like it or not, It's John,” You point at him. “And Jane Smith.” You point at yourself. “Until they dismiss us, that's our names. Not whatever you were about to tell me.”

“But you know it's not our names, right?”

“Of course I do. You don't look like a John, John.”

“And you don't look like a Jane. I just…” He sighs. “Just want someone to know my real name. We almost died back there, what if we stayed a minute longer inside that car? What then? I don't want to die with someone else's name written on my grave.” His words are genuine, but it sounds like he has said these words before.

Still, you sympathize with him. You've gone undercover before, taken someone’s name instead of yours for months. Those missions were so long and tiring that you almost forgot your own name. But it was…survivable because he was with you. John has no one, and this time you have no one. No one that calls your real name, no one that can identify your body if you suddenly croak in the middle of a mission.

No one else but John and Jane Smith.

So with bated breath, you give him the go ahead. “Okay, tell me. But I can't promise that I'll call you by that name.”

“Don't want to get in trouble with hihi?”

“No,” you scoff. “I don't give a shit what that robot says. I just don't want to die with a stranger's name. So fuck it, tell me yours and I'll mine.”

He smiles the same smile that he gave you before he went out of that dinky bathroom window. The smile that reassures you, a smile that tells you everything will be alright.

“It's Hobie,” Hobie finally says. “Hobie Brown.”

“It suits you better. Thought it was Jeff.” You whisper, and you give him your real name. The same name you were born with, not the fabricated ones your former agency has given you, not the ones your new company has given you.

He whispers back your name, tongue rolling off it like honey. Then, Hobie smiles again, nodding and those heterochromatic eyes bore into you comfortably like the sun's rays kissing your skin in the summer.

“You look like one. Definitely suits you better than Jane.” You smile shyly as you lose the fight against sandman.

In Hobie's mind, he hopes that knowing your real name is enough, enough to keep you alive, enough of an incentive for him to keep you safe, since you're not just a typical Jane anymore that the company randomly selected for him, no, you're Y/N L/N, and he'll do anything to protect you better. Because maybe, just maybe, knowing your real name this early would work, and you'll outlive all the Janes that he himself has outlived.

As you fall asleep next to him, he stares at Jeff the third. In that luxurious house, within those bulletproof walls, and in your room lies a deep anger in him. An anger that keeps him sane in all those years trying to pay his debt. He needs to end the cycle, not just for him but for all the agents that are in the same shoes as him. For now he lets you sleep soundly, for now, he plots the demise of the people behind the screen.

The laptop flashes a new message from the company.

> Mission complete: 3 fails remaining

> Good job, next mission?

Support banner by @cafekitsune ❤️

A/N: thank you for reading!!! Please consider reblogging if you liked it ❤️❤️❤️

[punkeropercyjackson]

My audhd brain won't stop telling me to do a full breakdown of the parallels between Percy and Hobie so i will.Alright,let's do this one last time!

Troubled but good kids

Afro-dominican New York/Jamaican-English(NY and England are where punk first started)

Anarchists,proffessional instigators,always helping out around communities(it's implied Percy participated in Rachel's protests and charities with her)and looking out for the little guy

So they're actual punks instead of just EdgyTM douchebags because they wanna do the right thing no matter what

No masking game autistics

Trans femmes who come across as masc only to normies

Chillaxed and super kind and love cute shit and people but also have major street credit,a huge edge and strong as fuck backbones and the reason they're so kind is that their childhood was beyond brutal so as they grew up they decided to be the positive older figure in younger people's lives they didn't take to have to the point they turned into Team Dad's

The EXACT same sense of humor

Blue-coded

Alt music lovers

Expressions are always either super intimidating or meme worthy goofy

Pet supernatural dog(Spidermutt and Mrs O'Leary)

Widely regarded as the coolest ever in-universe and correctly so but they're huge dorks when you get down to it but that only makes them even cooler-They were this cool the whole time

6'something with guitarist hands and described as so attractive it's shocking

Go by a nickname instead of their full name and have a common black surname

Oldest and most experienced heroes in their main casts

Hobie's dad is a deadbeat who left him as a baby to do supernatural shit

'I'm not a role model' 'I hate the a.m,i hate the p.m,i hate labels' 'I don't believe in consistency' / 'Was i a troubled kid?Yeah,you could say that' 'I AM impertenent' 'The sea does not like to be restrained'

'Calling yourself a hero makes you self-mythologizing'Hello???????????

Gwen is the Hazel to Hobie's Percy.She's a younger trans girl with a ghost motif who's a pastel ray of sunshine and runs her mouth as much as they do and has a dead mom,an abusive corrupted figure dad and their own impressive experiences in heroism before meeting them

Nico is another teen Ghostkid who Percy gifted a Ramones shirt and gave shelter to multiple times when he was homeless because Hades/Pluto is as much of a fucking cunt as George Stacy is.Nico is also a Miles kinnie because he's an optimistic softboy who's nerdy,a fast food lover and a lot stronger than he gives himself credit for and Percy is the big brother mentor to him the fandom thinks Hobie is to Miles(Nah fr Hobie and Miles are ambigious but Percy's canonically a grown ass man and Nico's Miles' age,P*rcicos pack it up and get over that your ship only works for transfem Percy proof)

Karl=Jason(the cooler St*ve R*gers,the actual voice of reason on the team but just as unhinged as the rest of them,very nice guy vibes and Hobie's righthand),Riri=Annabeth(Black girl genius who takes no shit but is still written as a person instead of a stereotype)and Mattea=Clarisse(red-coded,rowdy tomboy and war paint)

Mayday and Margo are basically just Estelle and Rachel,Jessica makes a pretty convincing Sally and Miguel reminds me of Poseidon but especially when he's interacting with Hobie

Sarcastic troublemaker smiles i've always found endearing(Rip to Annabeth but i'm different)(Also for Hobie i mean this platonically)

Immaculate rizz that's mostly unintentional but reaches critical levels when on purpose

Cocky asf and self-loathing at the same time

That one scene of Hobie leaving Gwen a Watch with the 'In case it don't work out' note with a lil doodle of him on it after getting her dad's ass/Percy sending the Olympians Medusa's head in a box after slaying her with a note saying 'Best wishes' to spite them

Goofy ahh who are nonetheless taken seriously cause Watch Out

They even both have terrible singing voices

And technically not the same thing but Hobie's also pink-coded so they're cotton candy colors and with Percy's white streak they can be the trans flag too!!

[rockhoundbeck]

Ladies and gentlemen... Mattel: Reservoir Dogs pt 1 🤙🏻✨🖤

Credit me if you're using these lol

[pangborns]

CASUALTIES.

Mr. Orange x fem!reader

The accusations quickly lead to fatal injuries.

Blood, death, violence, weapons, etc.

to the ppl that liked my post :D - @bshutsky @bloodandglittertastessobitter @manunitedfan1 @vapidluxury

You held a tight grip on Orange’s bloody hand as Mr. Blonde continued to torture the hostage.

“Please! Just leave him alone.” You pleaded, voice cracking and vision blurry. The man ignored you as he turned the radio up and quickly advanced on the bound cop.

The sound of your scream along with the cries from the hostage still did nothing to rouse Orange’s unconscious figure.

Mr. Blonde was now atop the man, bringing the knife up to his face. You tightened your grip on Orange, burying your face into his shoulder as you held him. Blood smeared over your face, but that was the least of your worries as you imagined all that Blonde would do to the man.

The sound of Mr. Blonde’s circling footsteps had you lifting your head. The psycho held an ear, he waved it in front of the cop’s face teasingly as you quickly pushed yourself to your feet.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You screeched, getting in between the hostage and Blonde. Your face was drenched, air hard to grasp as you panted.

Blonde clicked his tongue, “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional, sweetheart?”

You recoiled, “I never agreed to participating in a hostage situation. As if we weren’t fucked before, you had to go and dig us a deeper hole.” You sputtered, anger replacing the fear.

Blonde scrunched his nose with a small chuckle. “Watch your mouth, sweetheart. You’ll be next.”

With a shudder, you watched as he made his way out of the warehouse with car keys in hand. You wasted no time in crouching in front of the police officer. You lightly tapped at his cheeks after noticing he was starting to lose consciousness.

The man groaned, struggling a bit as he remembered where he was. “No, shh, it’s alright! I’m not going to hurt you.” You hurriedly muttered, glancing behind you to be sure Blonde wasn’t on his way back in.

You started ripping the duct tape from the man’s ankles, cringing each time he would groan particularly loud. “Please, we have to be quiet.”

His muffled voice grew louder and more frantic. “I know, I know. I’m hurryi-“

A click.

The cool metal of a pistol rested against the back of your head. “Stand up, Red.”

You dropped the wad of duct tape, keeping your hands up as you slowly raised yourself to a stance. Blonde grabbed your forearm, forcefully turning you around.

Now, facing the weapon, the fear returned. Your lower lip trembled as you fought to keep tears at bay. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” You spoke softly.

“No need.” Blonde nodded, taking a step back and readying the gun against your forehead. You tightened your eyelids closed, preparing for the blow.

Four gunshots were heard, but none of them hit you. Peaking your eyes open, you could see Blonde on the other side of the room, bleeding out.

You released the breath you were holding, a cry escaping your shaky lips. Turning to your right, you watched as Orange’s gun fell to the floor with a clang.

He clutched at his stomach, whimpering in pain as his head hit the ground once again. You slid down to his side, laying him across your lap.

“He didn’t hurt you. Did he?” He gasped, struggling to find his voice through the fog of pain.

You quickly shook your head. “No, I’m okay. You saved me.”

The cries from the other side of the room quickly faded as Mr. Blond stopped breathing. You cringed, grabbing a fist of Orange’s suit. “Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”

Mr. Orange’s face fell a bit. “I shot a woman today.” His face was pinched, both in pain and regret. “I’ve never done that before.” You brushed his hair from his eyes, humming a sad sigh.

The doors to the warehouse slammed open as Mr. Pink, Mr. White, Eddie, and Mr. Cabot walked in. A doctor quickly followed behind, pausing beside Blonde’s body.

“What the fuck happened here?” Eddie cursed, running over to Mr. Blonde.

“Blonde went crazy. Slashed the cop’s face and cut off his ear.” You started, shaky breaths escaping you as you watched Eddie’s fury grow.

“Who the fuck cares what he was going to do to this fucking pig!?” Eddie turned toward the bound man, shooting him three times in the chest.

You yelped, tears forming once again in your eyes. “Oh my god, oh my god..” You hyperventilated, gripping Orange’s hand even tighter.

“He tried to off Red. Aimed a gun at her head and everything.” Mr. Orange spoke up, blood dripping from his lips.

“You were saying he went crazy? Something like that? Worse or better?” Eddie raised his voice, clearly frustrated.

“Look, Eddie, he was pulling a burn. He was gonna kill the cop, Red, and me. And when you guys walked through the door, he was gonna blow you to hell and make off with the diamonds.” Orange’s face pinched as speaking only caused the pain to grow.

“Uhuh, uhuh, what'd I tell ya? That sick piece of shit was a stone cold psycho.” Mr. White finally spoke.

“You could've asked the cop, if you didn't just kill him. He talked about what he was going to do when he was slicing him up.”

“It’s true! He said I was next.” You defended the man, flinching as Eddie stepped closer.

“I don't buy it. It doesn't make sense.”

“It makes perfect fuckin sense to me. Eddie, you didn't see how he acted during the job, we did.” Mr. White continued, getting cut off by Eddie once again.

Eddie then explained to the group as to why Mr. Blonde would never pull a fast one on him and his father. That left the room silenced.

“I know what’s going on.” Joe finally said something, stepping up. “This piece of shit is working with the cops.”

Mr. Cabot aimed his gun at Mr. Orange. “- and I bet the girl is in on it too.” Eddie’s gun was quick to raise and aim at you.

Mr. Orange gripped your arms tighter, trying to pull himself up to make a shield. You shook, looking down the barrel of a gun for the second time in the last hour.

“Woah, woah..” Mr. White slid himself between the two of you and the Cabots. “Joe, I don’t know what you think you know, but you’re wrong.”

“Like hell I am!” Mr. Cabot retorted, shaking the gun in your direction.

Your eyes grew wide as the men continued to argue over your lives. Eyes traveling to Orange’s figure, you watched as his gaze was already on you. His face was still pinched in pain, but he sent you a hopeful smile. The voices of the men quickly faded as you watched Mr. Orange.

“It’s not me, I promise.” You spoke silently to him.

The muscles in his face settled, “I know, honey.” He brought his hand to your cheek, comforting you as his blood transferred onto your skin.

“C’mon guys!” Mr. Pink’s voice snapped the two of you out it. “Nobody wants this. We’re supposed to be fucking professionals!”

“Larry, we’re going to kill them.” Joe spoke surely, taking the safety off of his gun.

“Goddamn you, Joe! Don’t make me do this.” Mr. White pleaded, finger shaky on the trigger.

“Larry, I’m asking you to trust me on this.”

“Don’t ask me that.”

“I’m not asking, I’m betting.” Joe raised his gun once again, shooting three times in your direction. All three bullets hit Orange as you screamed.

Eddie was next, as Mr. White was taking care of Joe, Eddie readied his gun and fired four bullets into your gut before turning the gun on Mr. White. The two shot each other at the same time, ending with all three men dead.

You yelped, falling to the ground. Harsh groans escaping your now bloodied lips. With shaking hands, you struggled to see the wounds through the blood.

You could barely make out the sound of Mr. Pink grabbing the briefcase and making a run for it. Struggling to catch your breath, you wheezed in pain.

“Red,” Mr. Orange croaked, turning to you. He struggled to grab your hand, shushing you as you panicked. “It’s okay.”

“He- He shot me!” You sobbed, voice wavering. “Why did he shoot me?”

“I’m a cop.”

Your ears stopped ringing in that very moment. All the air in your lungs escaped. “What?”

“It was me,” He wheezed. “It was a set up.”

A broken sob escaped your bloodied lips at the confession. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” You lurched forward as he applied pressure to your stomach.

He broke, now wracking with sobs. “No, no of course not. They’re on their way. You just gotta hold on a bit longer.” Now ignoring his wounds, he made note of the way your reaction time slowed each time he pushed down on a particular painful spot.

Your breathing grew shallow and your face paled, head lolling to the side.

“Nobody was supposed to get hurt.” He repeated as you fell from consciousness.

[ltadoriyuujl]

I have a thought to offer the hobie brown nation

I don't think we're taking full advantage of the potential of hobie x deadpool!reader

[littlemissvincentvega]

can you plssss do nsfw hcs of Reservoir Dogs? maybe their favourite position? if this is uncomfortable u dont need to write this! no pressure xx

the reservoir dogs & their favourite positions

a/n: thank you for the request babe i'm sorry i didn't do it right away i kind of suck at getting to them but i'm remembering how much i love writing!!! enjoy 🥰🥰

18+ explicit content / reservoir dogs x reader

cw: references to p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving), bdsm, slapping, spanking

mr. white / larry dimmick:

larry is kind of an oldschool guy in general, so i feel like missionary would be his thing. he likes to be able to see his girl's pretty face when he fucks her, and it gives him the freedom to be rough and dirty or slow and passionate. if it's the former, he'll pause every so often to lean down and kiss her forehead for taking him so well 🥺

mr. orange / freddy newandyke:

freddy just SCREAMS cowgirl to me. he likes to be able to see all of his girl, tits bouncing in his face and every inch of his cock buried in her sweet pussy. maybe he's just a lazy bitch? it gives him the freedom to touch her everywhere, though-- squeezing her ass, her hips, waist, kneading her breasts and pressing kisses to them while she rides him. he usually brings his thumb to her clit so he can see her face when she comes. that's a sight he never gets bored of

mr. brown:

idk why but i feel like brown likes a rope bunny. he likes to tie his girl up and i can see him enjoying her being hog-tied, him kneeling beside the bed so he can eat her pussy or facefuck her. but bondage aside he likes missionary, with his girl's legs in the air and her feet resting on his shoulders (i think you know why 🦶🦶😏)

mr. pink:

pink is sort of obsessed with eating his girl's pussy, so his favourite position is between her legs with his arms around her thighs. that way he can look up and see her face, see the ecstasy he's bringing to her with his tongue. he's also a fan of facesitting. it makes him sooo fuckin hard when his girl comes on his face and he's practically suffocated by her cunt. this guy has a magic tongue and i think we all know it

mr. blonde / vic vega:

woah okay this kinky motherfucker where do i even begin?? vic likes to slap during sex so doggy style is his go-to. it gives him the freedom to grab his girl's hips or waist so he can fuck her as hard as he likes (and trust me, he likes to POUND into that pussy) and slap her ass so hard she can't sit comfortably for a week. sometimes he'll bring his arm around her torso and clamp his hand around her throat, hold her upright and grunt dirty things into her ear. he's still proud of her being such a good girl, though, and sometimes he'll kiss the little patch of skin behind her ear

'nice guy' eddie cabot:

eddie is sort of a wild card when it comes to positions. he likes cowgirl because he's lazy and likes his girl's tits in his face, he likes fucking her from behind so he can slap her ass, he likes missionary so he can get as deep in her pussy as he wants. it all depends on the mood he's in. i also think eddie would like doggy style in front of a mirror so he can see his girl's face while he pounds her, it reeeeallly gets him off. another thing about eddie? he loves when his girl gets on her knees for him and begs for him to come all over her face and tits, it drives him feral 🥵

[thelaughtercafe]

Mr. Love Ler Headcanons

Tea Type: Brown Sugar Boba

Potential Triggers: 

Pairing: Kiro/F! Reader, Lucien/F! Reader, Victor/F! Reader, Gavin/F! Reader, Shaw/F! Reader

Length: 1.4l+

Summary: N/A

Kiro:

Omg Kiro as a ler is super playful and energetic. 

Likes to use his hands the most! Feels it’s the most intimate.

Does NOT shut up. 

Has known he was a Ler since childhood actually, unlike the others so he’s the most experienced with terms, tools and wrecking you. 

He sees it as a super fun way to break the touch barrier and also help lift moods or break a silence so he will just lunge at you out of nowhere while you’re chilling with him and just go to town.

“Aw c’mon cutie you can take a little more cantcha? Look at that beaming smile! 

King of teasing holy fuck he will make you red. 

Partial to coochie coos and tickle tickles to fill any moments of his own silence. 

Lives to see you afterwards, pink, discombobulated and pouting which leads to a quick scribble at your ribs to make you giggle again. 

“You know you love me~”

Cheeky little shit. 

Lucien:

OMG HE’S SO MEAN DON’T LET HIM FIND OUT YOUR TICKLISH PLEASE GOD-

He’s a man of science and you know what that means. 

Tickle experiments. All the time. 

And if he knows you like it? He won’t stop. 

And believe me…he’ll know. 

You won’t need to say a word. 

He’ll notice the way you arch into his touch, or the way you look away and blush when he makes an analogy about having a tickle in his throat and that’s all he needs to get curious enough to generate a hypothesis.

Once he tests it and just out of the blue while asking rapidfire questions under the guise of a game blurts it out in the same monotone voice as always.

“So I take it you like being tickled hm?”

“Yeah of course I-” 

He wished he had a camera to record the way your face had froze as you realized what had just come out of your mouth before you rushed to backpedal. 

“I-I mean-no I just-I th-thought you asked something el-”

Too late for that. 

He had already cornered you against the nearest wall and begun skating his fingernails under your shirt over your bare sides with a calm smile. 

“There’s no need to tell fibs now. I can see from how red you are that you like this whether you attempt to deceive me or not.”

He merely laughed as you groaned in embarrassment and hid your burning face in his lab coat. 

From then on, lots of experiments. He is a neurologist after all. What better way to test how laughter affects brain chemistry? 

Victor:

Opposite to Kiro; he’s cold and doesn’t open his mouth much besides to offer the occasional playfully degrading comment. 

“Ah, so this is your real laugh hm? Quite loud. I should be the only one to hear it.” 

He’s much more focused on your laughter and flustered reaction as well as what makes you give him the best reactions.

Always evolving his tickling style. Kind of experimental like Lucien but more spur of the moment and doing it to mess with you.

Quick, nimble, long fingers.

How else do you think he writes and types so fast as a CEO?

Uses his big hands to wrap around you and can tickle both your ribs and back at the same time. 

Finds a sadistic satisfaction in the way you jerk and let out a strangled sound of gaped laughter when he does it for the first time, eyes comically wide before you attempt to beg. 

Punishes you when you make him worry and when you go MIA in particular.  

Does it out of nowhere too, to catch you off guard. 

…Absolutely once called you to his office just to wreck you until you were in tears.

Goldman got some ideas after that day the poor secretary-

Gavin:

High school friend already knew you were ticklish, despite never having done it to you himself until now. 

He’s too shy for that now, c’mon. 

The sweet ler who’ll hesitate even when he’s got you pinned, his hands hovering over your skin after a playfight.

“J-Just call my name if you need me to stop okay?”

His softness is the last thing on your mind as he then roughly digs his fingers into your hipbones. 

When you burst into giggles, the smallest of smiles twitches onto his lips as he relishes in the sound of your laughter. 

Teases tentatively since he’s worried about pushing you too far. 

More innocent comments and him blurting out his thoughts that have the added bonus of flustering you to Hell and back.

“Heh…your laugh hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Man, look how red you’ve gotten.”

Will turn red himself when he goes to pull away, worried you’re not getting enough oxygen and you pull his hand back towards your body with a pout. 

Lets out the purest laugh when it clicks and turns a bit more teasy in reaction.

“Oh? You don’t want me to stop do you?”

*SPOILER CHARACTERS BELOW THE CUT*

Helios:

Hi. 

Remember how I said Kiro was a master ler? 

Take that; multiply it by 500 and you’ve got Helios. 

Fuck playful tickling. 

This man?

Gonna torture you.  

Kiro was very careful to never use his Evol on you, even if you said you didn’t mind or even wanted him to. 

Helios has no such qualms and relishes in the lack of control he can force on you. 

It’s a reminder to him both that he’s powerful and you’re safe not that he’ll ever admit as much.

Degrades just a tad when he lers. 

Makes fun of you for liking it

🥺

“Oh? What a naughty little tickle slut I’ve come across. Look at you barely struggling against me.”

Leans forward to hiss into your ear and you feel his teeth drag there. 

“Now if you don’t want me to stop…”

“Beg for it.”

Shaw:

The type to pretend he’d rather be literally anywhere else. Like he’s not the one torturing you and it’s this huge inconvenience as you lose it in his arms. 

“Damn your laugh is so squeaky. Ha! Did you just snort?”

Try to quiet  yourself and he’ll either pout or threaten as his 

“Did I say to stop?”

Omg absolutely the type to let you get away just to drag you back to him!! 

Doesn’t show it outwardly but freaking loves the chase and struggle under that tsundere ass façade. 

Possessive of his Lee.

He wants to be the only one to tickle them.

Especially in front of a certain brother

Generally enjoys tickling you in front of others despite his possessive nature since he views it as a declaration. 

Any of his band members from Loud House try joining in he will 1000% put you down to wreck them till they cry. 

“Oh you wanted to join in? Why didn’t you just say so?”

Oh shit wait that’s not playfulness that’s aggression in his tone run little drummer boy run!!

Absolutely no mercy. Follows through on making them cry and taunts them mercilessly about it. Never lets them live it down and threatens them with it again if he gets jealous. 

…no-one’s stupid enough to try again after that. 

Ares:

Once Lucien drops the mask? 

Much like Helios he’s worse. 

The only difference? His was done for manipulation against you rather than to protect you and he’s got even less qualms about using it to mess with you. 

He already did it as Lucien of course but as Ares? 

He’s so much crueler, and he’s not afraid to manhandle you either. 

Even if he wants to safeguard you, it doesn’t mean he can’t have some fun with you too. 

And maybe he misses your smile and laughter around him. 

Not that he’d ever tell you as much. 

He never got to show his annoyance as Lucien and as Ares he still mostly doesn’t. 

Until he does. 

You make one too many passive aggressive comments, roll your eyes one too many times and suddenly he’s got you pinned by your neck against the wall, grin more feral than you’d ever seen it with a glint in his eyes that makes your blood turn to ice. 

He clicks his tongue at you.  

“Tsk tsk tsk…not a very smart girl now are we?”

His voice is little more than a hiss. 

“This has been a long time coming. I hope you’re ready to be punished. Thoroughly.”

He leans forward to purr all too sweetly into your ear. 

“And I have just the method. Be a good girl and behave for me won’t you? I’d hate to have to gag you.”

His tone was so full of relish you know if you so much as try it he’ll follow through. 

[imaginesbymk]

RESERVOIR DOGS PREFERENCE

FINDING OUT YOU HAVE A MINIMUM WAGE JOB

Characters: Mr. White (Larry), Mr. Orange (Freddy Newandyke), Mr. Blonde (Vic Vega), Mr. Pink, Mr. Brown + “Nice Guy” Eddie 

Tags: —

Taglist: @locke-writes​ & @aryn-the-bearheart​

A/N: something lighthearted and random! enjoy and leave a like/reblog/feedback <33 ^.^

MR. WHITE ( LARRY ) —

Mr. White seeing you bagging groceries wearing a bright vest with your name on it is just so unimaginable.

He makes your job easier by helping you bag his own groceries (even tho nowadays in most stores you have to do it yourself?)

“Your manager’s paying you well, right?”

“Larry, this is Wal-Mart. I don’t get paid enough to bag people’s odd choice for frozen dinners and tennis shoes.”

He swears not to tell a soul. But he visits you at work because he needs to go to the store every week.

MR. ORANGE ( FREDDY NEWANDYKE ) —

Mr. Orange notices you as the new sales associate at the comic book store.

You’re stocking merchandise on the top shelves, using the ladders.

“Y/N?” He calls you down. You froze, fearing the worst for all retailers, seeing someone you know at your own workplace is so embarrassing.

He doesn’t care at all, though. He’s just looking for the limited edition of the action figures he wanted. 

Probably wants you to smuggle him a lifelong supply of Marvel stuff from the back.

Orange makes a smug look when he’s at the counter. 

MR. BLONDE ( VIC VEGA ) —

The thing is, Blonde KNOWS you work at Big Kahuna, and becomes a total dick when you serve him.

It’s literally Squilliam making fun of Squidward for working at the Krusty Krab.

“I asked for no onions and tomatoes in my burger.”

“Wow, Vic. You’re a convict and a picky-eater. Grow up.”

Big Kahuna is one of his go-tos, so you don’t have much of a choice but to serve him food.

MR. PINK —

Of course... you’re a server at a restaurant

He’s just making fun of you, literally treats you the way a snobby customer treats their server.

“Whatever. What do you want? We’re serving the lunch special.”

Snapping his fingers at you to get your attention across the room

You threaten to spit in his food if he makes one more joke, and you mean it.

“Pink, I told you. We don’t serve those here.”

He doesn’t tip. 

MR. BROWN —

You work at the local Blockbuster.

"Hey, where’s the Spaghetti western movies?" You turn around and see Mr. Brown at the front desk.

Both your jaws are on the floor, staring at each other in pure shock.

He can’t stop giggling at you now, much to your annoyance.

It’s a good thing you know enough about your job and where everything is, so every time Brown comes in the store he always comes to you for movies he wants to rent, and you would put it on the store TV and watch it with him

“NICE GUY” EDDIE CABOT —

Eddie seeing you at the dry cleaners when he has to get all the suits ready was a big surprise for him.

“I don’t believe it. From a distance, I was thinking to myself, ‘Hey, that mf kinda looks like y/n’, and lo and behold!”

He uses this to his advantage, though. He wants his, his Dad’s and the people his dad recruits’s clothes clean and tailored to a T.

You’re gonna be his go-to for clean suits from now on.

Would come in, cheerily calling for you or greeting you.

[theobsessiveloser18]

🦋Y/N In Karate Kid🦋

-Before karate kid-

•Y/N Nomen nescio Born on March 30, 1961, she is the second daughter of the Nomen couple. The tallest of the family, the most intelligent of the family (in her own words), the adoration of everyone she knows and above all things the younger sister of Jimmy, one of the most Popular at school, and an honorable Cobra Kid

•Being the only daughter of a workaholic lawyer and a retired housewife from 4 supermarkets struggling to survive in the complex confines of the middle class, Y/N has had a difficult life.Quiet with good friends, a great family, being an average student with good grades, and having the best relationship with her older brother

•You could say that everything began to change in his life when his brother began to draw his attention to karate, Your mother enrolled him in a dojo near home, run by a walking psychopath and Having 13-year-old classmates completely deranged by using what they learned on anyone they wouldn't like, y/n began to see the havoc that an egomaniac spirit could wreak on The world.

•It could be said that someone like Jimmy would not be affected, he was a boy raised with good principles, responsible parents and without worries about his future, unlike some he had no reason.To become a bad boy, and he didn't, however he was 13 years old and being friends with Dutch, Johnny and Tommy was obviously going to affect him like it did Bobby and it did.

•So like a good sister, you tried to advise him, scold him, guide him and practically prevent him and his friends from going too far. Sometimes you succeed but other times you don't, however your parents never They have noticed the change that your brother had And let's say that you unconsciously make sure that this is so

“Y/N, let's go out, We take you somewhere ?”

“no Mom,The outing with the girls was canceled,” you shouted from your room, focused on the drama on your television.

After a while you went down to say goodbye to your parents

“Jimmy is going to bring his friends for a while, the cake is finishing in the oven, I hope you take good care of them” You looked disgusted at your brother and his cheeky smile.

“The boy is 18 years old ma, he's not stupid,And even less invalid, I don't see why he would need my help for this, other than cultivating sexism”

“The ideas of modern television rot the minds of young girls, I hope you don't watch too much while we are gone, one day you will be a mother and if that attitude has not disappeared by You divorced in 1 year, and believe me you don't want that”

“believe me ma, I don't want children and even less a man to support I have enough with these two”

“time will tell” your father left his office quickly Claiming that he was late for his meeting, they said goodbye to your parents, your mother did not leave without first telling you “and dress appropriately for the visits,” she commented, pointing to your shorts and Your strappy blouse

"Don't offend me, the last thing I want is for those chimpanzees to have to share information about my body." SHe gave you a dirty look and finally got into the car. You returned to your room, after a while. you changed and remembered the cake just before it started to burn

“Hey, I thought you didn't want the kids to comment that I have a sister who likes to dress like a clown.”

“Get lost kid, those stupid people don't deserve me to look this good, much less waste it. An expansive cake in them”

“Yes yes, whatever you say Stuck-Up”

You had the decency to open the door for them when they arrived,

“Jimmy,The Scorpions arrived” you shouted and immediately closed the door in their faces, by the time your brother had opened it for them. You were already halfway up the stairs.

"Y/N, let this be the last time you do that to the boys."

“You're not in charge of me” you argued and the boys looked at you quite amused

“I'll tell mom that you're staying up late watching TV”

“And I'll tell them both where you keep Dutch's marijuana” Everyone They were offended, while you laughed at their reactions

“Go back to the kitchen, let's see if you tame the hyena." You went down the stairs quickly ready to confront him but Jimmy stopped you while the other cobras scolded him

“Suck my excrement, you damned caveman”

“What the hell with those insults ?” Johnny ask with an awkward laugh,The fulminating thing with your look

“I wouldn't have broken the door down on them if they didn't come with The incarnation of the damned Cráter- face”

“Don't compare me again. With your fucking comedies you little bitch” this time he received a blow to the head from Bobby

“Where are you going with that”

“they don't deserve my strawberries much less the sacred whipped cream”

“You will gain weight”

“At least I'll never have your damn height oompa loompa” Finally you disappeared from the room.

After 2 hours you returned to the living room to leave your plate and half a jar of cream in the refrigerator.And you thanked God for having done it when you realized the state of your house

What the hell is this?

Don't exaggerate y/n" Tommy said a little drunk, of course for a boy who could barely stand the smell of marijuana, an apparent large speck of dust,What was it really? the cigarette butt on the table,The amount of empty beers on the floor, and the 3 bales of them that still remained to be uncovered, were nothing to him.

“"Don't exaggerate, you idiot." You took off the headphones of your brother,And you almost fainted because of how dazed it was With the voice of Judas Priest, you ran to cut off his voice.

“Don't fuck around.”Johnny said, approaching angrily with a cigarette but he started to back away when you faced him, much more upset.

“You guys don't fuck with me with all this...you can tell me what the hell made you think this was all a good idea” your screams seemed to sober everyone up “you have a damn thing Idea of ​​what time it is?, My parents are going to arrive any minute, and fucking look at this, this..."your brother started vomiting, everyone left the room including him, he washed himself in the dishwasher and after a few minutes he tried to Regaining your composure you continued “and don't even get me started on all of this together.”

“Okay, okay, we understand, we're leaving."

"Oh no, gentlemen, you're not leaving now," you commented, grabbing him and Johnny by the collars of their shirts. "You are going to help clean the place that they turned into Satan's damn inn”

So they started cleaning the house “seriously!!! “You guys drank 4 bottles of dad’s red wine...Oh damn it, damn it and well damn it”

“Here, all at once and you'll be as good as new,” Bobby commented, offering you 4 cigarettes. You looked at him wrong. “Bad idea, I got it.” He walked away. you began to exasperately trying to detect which one was the most sober, and surprisingly your recently vomited brother fell into the category

“listen to me carefully, honey You're going to get it damn in the old man's cabin damn, you're going to take them in a Unfortunate bag, they're not going to fall off the danmn it bike, you're not going to damn it delay... and above all," you approached him, grabbing his shirt, "you're going to bring Exactly the same damn brands, or else you and your friends are going to learn what a modern bonfire is, are you screwed or did you understand me right? Before he could respond, Dutch asked,

“With so much rudeness," you snapped at your brother and responded sarcastically, "oh seriously, I'm being very rude, my goodness, forgive me, Dutch, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I thought you were fed up with my Insults from a good girl baby” you looked at him annoyed and he simply rolled his eyes “every damn world get to work.”

You really put them to work, Bobby made the 4 pots of coffee to get rid of the hangover, Johnny He mopped the house, Tommy threw away the beers and cigarettes 4 blocks down from his neighborhood, and Dutch took care of his friend's vomit, washing the mop and the kitchen things (nothing personal)While you put everything back as it was originally and certain inconsistencies in the crime scene disappeared, when they were finally finished, your parents walked through the door,

“Good night sir and madam nemon.”

“Good evening young people” Your father greeted awkwardly, you and your brother wanted to laugh

“It's a little late for you to still be here, did something happen?”

"No, of course not, ma'am, just "We ran out of time," the tender Bobby responded too quickly,

"it stinks of air freshener, excuse me."

"Eh, is the gentleman okay?"

"Yes, it's just that strong smells bother him, and he's right, the house stinks of clean... And because his father's wine bottles are in a black bag" without them being able to avoid it, Your mother approached, took the bag and fine price tags put them on the apron, you passed your brother while Dutch kicked him in the shin, your mother said as politely as she could to The boys, and your brother and you were left in an interrogation

“Are you going to explain to me what happened?”

“It was my fault mom, I burned the cake, and I rushed to be someone else but that's when the boys arrived and it was a complete disaster,I spilled the juice, I collided with Dad's bottles, put old milk on the cake and Dutch got sick and I mistook the soda for beer."

You didn't know who was more surprised, your brother or your mother, her scold you a little, punish you a little, give you more homework and you got rid of your addiction to television for 2 weeks, (the replacement for your addiction to romantic books)

Your brother and the cobras kidnapped you at school at almy time“A gift? My God, you guys are so sweet, you wouldn't have bothered, I did it with all the good will in the world, I would do it again if that were the case.”

“We created a monster,” Tommy commented, amused,

“actually, just woke him up.”

•Deep down, your brothers' friends are like the distant cousins ​​with whom your brother forced you to play football when you were little. You want them your way (except Dutch)They do it their way, and you could live with them even if your brother wasn't there.

•To bother you they like to sneak into your plans

“Don't come into my fucking room without knocking, you fucking bastard.”

“Will you never recover from the insults?” Johnny asked, leaning out of the doorway.

“Where does the television clown go?

“Are you sure you said that word right, Tommy?” you asked, finishing your makeup.

“You're not going to distract us, smartass, you're going to go out without your older brother.”

“If it's about intelligence I'm older than you”

“If it's about street experience I'm still the oldest”

“Are you sure”

“oh so this is how we're going to play?”They both stood face to face, you looked at him mischievously Letting him know that you wouldn't back down, he then unexpectedly ran out of your room, “Mom, mom, don't let Y/N out, she's going to go to a dangerous neighborhood,” you obviously ran after him,

“That's not true,Mom I'm going to Veronica's ”

“But she doesn't want me and the boys to accompany her, it doesn't seem suspicious to you, mommy."

"Because she didn't invite you, and you always talk bad about her."

"Because she's weird, I don't want you to get that."

"It's stupidly ridiculous, mom."

In the end, your mom ended up agreeing with your brother, forcing you to join him in your plans.

"After you, dear little Sister”You fell dramatically on your bed.

“So where are we going,” Tommy asked, playing with your pillow.

“Veronica's House,” Jimmy informed.

“I would kill you if there was a way for mom and dad to not find out.”All the cobras began to mess up your room, while you tried to call your friend to inform her of the change of

•Although they also like to force you to go out with them

“Get ready girl let's go to the bar”Tommy informed

“I hate bars”

“well we can golf n stuff”Bobby suggested.”

“That place has me fed up” “To the movies it will be” Johnny said determined

“Cinemas seem pathetic to me”

“since when?!

“Since you have been with me”

“Very funny little mouth, let's go” your brother said pulling you by the arm

“leave me alone.I have to study for an exam ”

“You've been watching TV for like 8 hours”

“I'm going to study”

“exactly when?” Johnny butted in.

“I will review all my notes, 5 minutes before going to sleep so that the information is concentrated in my brain.During sleep, and the adrenaline of ruining what defines 85% of my final grade, will help me get exactly a C.”Everyone looked satisfied with your answer, however Johnny insisted

“Okay that. It gives us 5 hours To choose between mad max 2 and Ramboo:First blood,And if you go for hamburgers, ice cream and pizza, should I leave it at that or are you still not hungry?”

"I hate you"

"I don't believe you"

-In Karate Kid-

•You weren't at the beach the night Johnny met Larusso,But that didn't stop you from finding out about the situation, you hadn't even been at school for 5 minutes when your friends found you and told you everything.

“Seriously, not even in the summer you guys can't keep calm” They raised their shoulders and gave you their best stupid face. “Okay, who is the guy?”

“That transvestite.”

“Since when are they xenophobic?”

“Hey, don't insult us with words we don't know?”

You try to convince the kids that the boy has learned his lesson, but there is no one more stubborn than John.

“she's not your girlfriend anymore Johnny, they broke up like 3 months ago, she has the right to go out with whoever she wants, Don't treat this whole matter as if the boy stole something of your property."

“Using so many words, it's not going to confuse me, I know exactly what I'm doing”

“She was your first girlfriend, you're almost 18 years old, you're Johnny Lawrence, you're going to have hundreds of girlfriends after her, and she's It will become a memory of everything that could have been for a 17 year old boy, get over it” you commented holding his shoulders

“you're making a pass at him?” ask rogue tommy “gross dude”

•Although you felt a little bad for the boy, there was nothing you could do to avoid the situation, and deep down you knew that Johnny was right when he said that Larusso liked problems.

•It was the Halloween party at school and surprisingly you managed not to go and no one questioned your decision. You were calmly resting in your room when one of your friends called you. Telling you that another of them had sprained her foot, and possibly needed to go to the hospital, as worried as if hell were burning, you asked your father for permission to take the car.

“I understand that you're worried, but the road won't do it, so if you get into an accident, or end up in jail, I most likely won't help you today."

You arrived almost trembling at the party only to discover that they had set you up, and you had made their job easier by bringing jeans, a striped shirt,and cowboy Shoes, hat were really easy to get

You were enjoying this change of plans, when you saw the cobra skeletons slip while chasing a shower.

“Who were they chasing?

“to Daniel”

“Who?"

“Larusso!,the new guy” You denied,

“Ali's Dirty Dream Boy”

“He's not,” the girl argued, a little blushing.

“Yet”Susan commented.

You ran away trying to catch up with them.Walking around the school, and a little further screaming and trying to find them You were afraid of getting lost and/or that something would happen to you because you were alone.

“Well, I'll have to give them away at home.” Suddenly you heard moans and screams. Determined to find them, you continued looking for them. “Forget it, I'm going to have you arrested right now.”

You saw the boy lying on the floor from afar, but as you got closer you realized that the skeletons were being beaten

"Hey hey, leave them" you ran towards them screaming like crazy "Go damn it, or I'll call the fucking police" before you could get close enough, the one who hit the cobras was running away with the larruso in his arms, you couldn't really see who he was from.But I don't know if you forget those words, “Mr Miyagi, we have to go.”

You were on the verge of insanity watching your brother, Johnny and Tommy seemingly unconscious and Bobby next to Dutch writhing in his sleep.Pain

“My God, this went down an abyss”

As stubborn as they were, they refused to go to the hospital, you negotiated with them to take them the next day.

You called your parents to tell them “that your friend was fine, with a sore foot, and you were going to stay at her house” they didn't agree, but upon hearing “That the girl lived across the street from Tommy(where was your brother staying)” they calmed down for a while

You treated the boys as best you could, they decided to watch the stars for a while in Tommy's yard, you lay down on the grass feeling that your back was finally relaxing

“I'm done...Bobby 4 They are not enough,“I'll settle for the pack” Johnny threw something at him

“we only have pore left” you raised your eyebrow.You fell asleep in the patio

•The situation was forgotten by them, not by you, you were too alert for Larusso and they, curiously, were in the Restaurant Where Daniel's mother worked, in charge of Cobra Kai (you didn't know she was his mother) you saw Daniel enter with a man, your nervousness increased

“Go ask for what is ours, the conflict is not going to escape me this time”

“Don't do anything stupid”

“I assure you” you said, tangling a lock of hair with your finger, a code of trust between you.

You entered the dojo, but you remained discreet listening to the entire conversation, you cursed Kreese, Johnny, Daniel and especially the old man, both of them passed by you, and you looked heavily at the already scared Jersey

“You need something, young lady?" you were paralyzed by Kreese's abrupt voice.

"I'll take care of it, sensei, excuse me." He looked at your brother with distrust, but when he asked his question he assumed that they were related and left it. "What the hell are you doing here, I told you what sensei thinks about women?"

“I just...I wanted to tell you that I was in the cafeteria across the street...you know in case something” he messed up your hair playfully, but he said quite angrily

“You're not going to harass me like a damn police officer” Bobby gave you a half smile before you found the strength to leave.

•Reduce surveillance of your brother and the boys by focusing now on Daniel and the old man who possibly hit them.He noticed it but didn't pay attention to it, because he didn't consider you a threat, just a paranoid girl because her brother was hit, him mistake was exactly what made you her threat. You found out where the old man lived, and everything was very easy for you.

•A few weeks later Larusso was furious at the cobras, he pushed your brother in the back, luckily for him there were only the chestnut, Bobby and Tommy.

“What sissies are happening to you, boy?”

“That's what I tell you, damned coward, why don't you fight me if you're such a man?”

“Oh believe me, that's just what I would do, if our senseis didn't have a deal.”

“Screw the deal, I'm going to cut you in half”

“I'll do it to you first Cockroach Nest” Tommy shouted but was stopped by your brother and Bobby.

“We're trying to stop Dutch and Johnny from crushing you like a potato, but you don't help yourself much, masochist.” Bobby said, you were leaving school calmly when you saw what was happening in the Parking lots

“I'm sorry I'm such a sinner, Jesus Christ, that you can't grant me a moment of peace.” You mumbled before entering the scene “get lost boy”

“You do it is a man thing”

“How curious, I don't see any” if If you weren't in the middle of a possible fight, your brother's friends would have already laughed.

“I hate to say it but Y/N is right, just go away”

“Why don't you keep your part of the deal, and wait until the tournament to get your long-awaited trip to the afterlife?"

“Are some cowards for involving Me Miyagi in this."

"What the hell are you talking about, you damn loudmouth," Tommy asked.

"About the complaint they made against my sensei."

"Stop crying, I was, a damned whiner."

"Why the hell would you go where you don't have any business, and where you don't know anything?" you started hitting him in the chest with your finger, making him retreat.

"What I know is that you, Mr. Michaci, hit my brother and his friends.", to defend a little girl who doesn't know how to do anything other than fall on her face in the puddle where she doesn't belong, so that when she's already dirty, she cries saying that life is unfair 'to someone so nice' And oh surprise!, where my family is involved is up to me. ”

“I told you to leave Y/N” your brother shouted grabbing you by the shoulders but you quickly let go “I'll leave when my belly button feels like it” he looked at you disgusted and you said in a low voice “And don't touch me, I'm not one of these” enough anger for him to take a step behind you, and you returned to the black-haired man

“you haven't left yet, what do you expect me to ask you nicely or what?”

“You're going to withdraw the complaint”

“besides being mentally retarded, stupid, you're the whole package” you commented sarcastically “You didn't listen to what I said to the boy, I do whatever I want, the last thing I would do is bend down The head for one of your kind."

"If you don't withdraw the damn complaint," he began to yell at you, causing the boys to almost pounce on him.

"I'll kill you, sewer toad."

"Don't get involved, this is now between the child and me” They stayed behind you “Excuse me, darling, what were you telling me?”

“If you don't withdraw the damn complaint I'm going to" he said while shouting pointing a finger at you, but you pushed him, he almost fell

"What are you going to do, huh, what are you going to do to me, I hear you cute"You continued advancing, he walks backwards, trying to find a way out, while half the school witnessed the spectacle “Are you going to hit me?! You can't handle them, you charge less with me, In my life a Guy has threatened me, so that almost one of them dares to even think about it” you pushed him again, and finally he fell, people laughed at him,You took your bag, approached him one last time, pointed at him and said in a low voice “I'm more dangerous than them, and believe me, you don't want to check.”

•Halfway down the road the cobras caught up with you, insisting that you let them get into their fights. “You can rot, you are dying for me Jimmy, and I don't want to see you in my house again”

You wouldn't show it but this was killing you, you were walking with your girlfriends, when you ran into

“Acquaintances.”

“This fucker, it must be a joke from the decomposed part of the left cerebral cortex”

“The fact that I didn't understand what you said, won't stop me from making something very clear to you!!

“Give me a second Lasagna, girls where always” when they were already far away you continued “Now that Cassie Powell”

““Withdraw the damn complaint”

“your brain is only coded to say that, why would Parrot, You can learn a new word”

“I don't do a bad thing, defend the young man” speak to you for the first time, Lord. “You hit minors, sir, I don't know if you understand English, and I don't know what the laws of the country you come from are like, it's not my intention to be xenophobic, but in the United States it is a crime.”

“It is a crime that he defends me, but that they have beaten me since they saw me is not an action rewarded by your beloved law, perhaps?”

“You're supposedly a man, right? I don't see you as one-armed.”

“Even the most Brainless knows that 5 against 1 is impossible” “Johnny, Bobby, Dutch Tommy and even my brother could” “They have trained

“Well, you do the same... Oh no, I know a better idea, stop putting yourself where you're not called”

“I have never done anything wrong”

“You are right, but you are not innocent either, trying to Attract with a bully's ex-girlfriend, and then getting revenge when he is at his calmest, is the equivalent of messing With the wife of a Gangster and stealing his gun when he is drunk, believe me, I have seen too many movies, it doesn't end well, keep that in mind for the future.”The man looked at the boy with quite curiosity. He looked embarrassed at being exposed. You were about to leave.

“The gang and your brother are not good people.” He shouted. You turned back.

“They're not bad, they're just not Good, like you, like me, like any teenager” You said too kindly, surprising him “Do you want them to pay for what they did? I myself can send them to a correctional facility but only after That he's in jail for hitting them" you were about to leave again

"You're evil" he murmured, you came back, your eyes were heavy he got scared "I'm not, I'm just a woman, a sister, who's fed up Of karate, of his parents' occupations, of his brother's change, of his brother's friends,Of having to take care of them, and Cover their mistakes just so Just not to be heard, seeing the disaster they cause, but above all I am tired of Kreese, do you want a villain in your story?,It's that I hope they screw him up, that they burn alive, and that their dojo is demolished and the ashes licked by a dinosaur."

With the last thing you said, they were a little confused, you resumed seriousness.

"I'm sorry that you They have done all that, child, and I'm sorry to have to ruin your plans, but you had a mother?,She must have noticed that something strange is happening, and you haven't let her get involved, well... this is what happens when you even ignore women, everything comes to the damn edge of a rock, I'm not bad, I'm just want this to end, and I don't have an adult to help me, so I'm trying to figure out how to stop this alone, and it seems like the only way...If you have nothing more to tell me excuse me,and see you later."

"Her name?" you heard the old man whisper

“y/n”

“Goodbye y/n San”

you stopped short, the man smiled at you,You didn't know what it meant but in a way it made you feel relieved. You nodded and continued your journey.Once at home you couldn't stop wondering if what you were doing It would really make life better.

You had “one of those conversations” again,You were in the supermarket helping your mother with shopping, you were in a section the product was falling out of your hands and Sir grabbed it

“Thank you, Mr Miyagi right?

“The right thing, miss” you shook your hand

“a placer meet you, my name...”

“Y/N knowing...Family shopping?”

“Yes, mom and me, that's our version of them.”

“Need help carrying groceries?”

“No thanks, we compare little by little”

“good time, buy lots, they will have help”

“Thank you, but she doesn't trust strangers and believe me it's not good for them to know each other”

“Because of what happened, understand”

“Maybe it's not appropriate for me to say it, because of everything I'm causing, but it seems incredible to me How could he with the cobras, they were not too enthusiastic about it but I imagine it was a fight like Bruce lee”

“Hear about it, really good wrestling, just different techniques, teach someday if you want”

“Thank you very much, but I really hate karate, and fighting would be the last sport I would practice on this earth”

“For damage caused, understand again, really talented brother and friends”You sighed

“Too much for my liking, I hope it doesn't end up leading them to carry blood on their hands, I'm sorry about the complaint”

“Don't apologize, do the right thing, stranger hit family”

“and family try to murder boy,I thought my parents would pay more attention to my brother, with what happened But in a way the only thing that changed was our opinion of the other, I am a Gossip, and he is an accomplice to an attempted murder.”

“People will change”

“Only if they want”

you turned around and saw your mother in that section picking up more products,

“His mother” He whispered “...Y/N San, good person, life will treat you well” You smiled

“See you later Mr. Miyagi”

“What did that old man want?”

“he couldn't find my way out of the supermarket, poor immigrant.”

Luckily for you, you and your mother never remembered a face

The day of the tournament was approaching.

“What do you want?” You asked with your eyes fixed on your book.

“The tournament is next week,” Dutch informed.

“Good for you.”

“You're coming, right? Johnny asked.

“Why should I do it?"

“You go every year”

“It's not like when you were 14 years old, you are more sadistic, cheap metal blinds anyone, and if I don't like hearing that they beat people for fun, I would like less to see them beat people for ambition and cheap congratulations from Fulgencio batista”

“Are you going to look us in the eyes when we talk?”Jimmy asked, annoyed.

“It's a sign of respect, I don't feel that way about you”

“For anyone?” Bobby asked, you looked him in the eyes

“What do you think? You are the smartest of them,Also why did you want me there? If I'm a gossipy, nosy little bitch, that no one will ever care about”

"say you're sorry." They told Dutch

"it's not about him, I don't care what he has to say about me, it's you."

“Y/N You are my sister, you know us better than anyone, you know we are sorry”

“You are right, I know them better than anyone, that's why I know they only apologize for why things ended just the way they wanted,Dad and mom don't care, and you like the big males, I sent you to rot once, so do it twice." You picked up your things to go to the next class.

“Know that we love you.”

“You have never shown it.”

•Anyway, you showed up minutes before it started, they didn't deserve it but it was your brother and his cobras, you never gave them the answer.You met Daniel in the hallways

“You came”

“I never back down from a fight”

“Good for you, because they don't either, they are more demonized than ever, you know their sensei”

“They don't scare me, I will cut their asses”

“the facts will speak for themselves, I would wish you luck, but I never do it, it would be betrayal, and apparently you don't need it."You turned towards the stands. “Don't have mercy on them,Maybe you can teach those morons Not to underestimate To the people .”

You had read about the Roman battles open to the public, you couldn't imagine how it could be worse than this.

• The critical point came when only the 2 best cobras were left, you were terrified when Kreese He practically forced Bobby to take Daniel out, and your soul actually left your body when the boy obeyed the order, and regretted it immediately afterwards, shaking Daniel for forgiveness.

•You went after him when he left the place, returning only to see Johnny's terror at "Sweep The Leg”

•You were standing there, in a corner watching everything, wanting to go back to Bobby without being able to really move, without feelings and opinions, you felt a chill all over your body when Daniel defeated the blonde, time froze in front of you, everything passing so slowly that It felt unreal, then you saw the boy congratulate Daniel, and you had a small emotion of pride, for both, the winner and the loser, but it was not enough for you to come to your senses, your gaze fixed on Kreese, this tournament had not been the end of nothing, you went for bobby

-Karate kid II-

"step aside,"

•"You enter the scene" in the eyes of Daniel and Mr Miyagi, who see you running with a stick through the crowd leaving the tournament until you reach the parking lot where Kreese and the cobras are,

you hit the man with too much anger in the neck and Head, To let Johnny go , he manages to elbow you in the stomach, and you fall down in pain. Jimmy runs at you, and stays standing next to you while you rub your stomach in pain.

•You catch Tommy when Kreese pushes him too, and you put your hand on Johnny's shoulder, who looks exactly how you feel at that moment, you rock him for a while.

•You feel normal again when Mr. Miyagi makes Kreese cut his hands on car windows, and makes him think that he will kill him with a Bruce Lee-style blow to the neck (if your memory serves you correctly) before he and Daniel walk away, you get the strength to get up

"Mr Miyagi" They both turn around and look at you "Thank you"

"You're welcome, Y/n san"

You smiled at him, you watched them walk away for a few seconds, and you returned to where the others were, Kreese walked past you.

"To rot"

They both stared at each other for a few seconds, but the hatred in their gaze consumed your eyes, and you felt a chill adjoin your body, for it was the first time you had insulted an adult to their face, it didn't feel good, you approached them. guys.

"Get your asses out of here" you picked Johnny up, placing his arm on your shoulder, and holding his back, you looked at him proudly "don't worry I'll take care of yours"

Finally you all got out of there

-The next Karate Kid-

•You live a few blocks down from Julie, you are kind to her, and after some casual conversations, you gain her trust.

•once chatting once passing in the distance Mr Miyagi

"My grandmother left me in charge of her and I barely know him, can you believe it?"

"If it's a little strange, he seems like something out of a movie… but don't worry, I know him too, he's a good man."

"How did you meet him?"

"Karate in a certain way is part of his history, he believes that with it you can change your life, I find it a little difficult to believe, but I would never doubt what that man said"

"Well, he really impressed you."

“He did it, maybe one day I can tell you the story, I don't want to influence you, but maybe you could try to get to know him, see if his teachings could contribute something positive to life, after all human beings are different, which can be useful for you "It may not have been for me, and that's okay." She meditate on your words for a few seconds

“You are quite wise and pleasant for being almost my age.”

•She listened to your advice, and you began to notice her more open and happy.

•but since most people had to leave, shortly after while you were sweeping the front garden you received a visitor

“Mr Miyagi! glad to see you, after all this time!”

“Same feeling Y/N San, traveling a lot is tiring, it's better to be home”

“Surely that's the case, the furthest I have been from home has been 4 days away. It must be quite a merit to leave the country where you have been seeing for a long time to return to your country of origin... What is Okinawa like?”

“Beautiful place, pleasant to visit, but too much family and enemies, privacy, and tranquility here, good to the United States for that”

“I get it, some families are too much for the world.”

“Your family will be that for you?”

“A little, being married and having children is difficult, I would prefer to live like you, I will enjoy the tranquility of silence”

“San, being too nice not to have a family of your own.”

“You are much more so than me, and yet you have a cozy place to live, doing what you love, and educating the new generations”

“Coming from the airport, saying goodbye to Julie, your neighbor, also a lovely lady, she will do well in the world.”

“Yes, I met her. It's good that she was able to meet you.”

“Going back to California in a few days, how long will you stay in Boston?”

“I will finish my degree in 3 years, I am working in a nice cafeteria, I like it, but maybe I can work on what I am studying soon”

“Well, time goes by quickly, well received in California, I'm sure we'll see you soon Chan”

“I hope so Mr Miyagi”

•Before leaving he give you a beautiful Bonsai.

[kissproof]

❦ . . . 𝘗𝘈𝘠𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘓𝘐𝘗 𝘚𝘌𝘙𝘝𝘐𝘊𝘌

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘨𝘴 (+ 𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦) 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

𝘞𝘈𝘙𝘕𝘐𝘕𝘎𝘚: 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 & 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 , 𝘢𝘧𝘢𝘣! / 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦

𝘽𝙍𝙊𝙒𝙉

the feeling of being suffocated between a woman’s thighs is something… unexplainable

it’s truly an ecstasy all its own which is why brown likes it so much

he loves arching his head back, jaw tight from his open mouth, tongue flicking and nudging at your most sensitive points

and he loves the way you grip his hands as he does it, using them as reigns to help you grind

because he’s alright on his own, fueled purely by the films he gets off to

but when you find the right rhythm for you, it’s heaven

by the time you’re about to come it all sounds so wet and you just feel so good and he’s grabbing all over you, gathering sweat in his palms from excitement

his nose is smushed against your pelvis when you practically bend over to hump into your orgasm, shaking and gasping hard as he brings you over the edge

𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙆

he’d usually be knuckle deep inside you, face so close he has no choice but to taste it

he’ll give you a few kitten licks, which you take with much gratification, moaning louder than you had before

and his scruff rubs so tenderly against your skin that you buck your hips into the roughness, a near growl escaping your mouth

he holds your hips down with one hand, his long fingers splayed out, knuckles red

that’s a lovely sight within itself….

your legs begin to quiver with his other hand is still playing you from the inside

he curls just right, pressing fiercely against your trigger and you have to cover your mouth because you nearly cry from how hard you come

he’s pleased with himself, but immediately brushes his teeth afterward :/

𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙏𝙀

spreads your legs apart like he just happened upon the most beautiful field of flowers

“such a pretty girl.”

you get wetter just from his words, and he knows it too

he’ll “sweetheart” his way into your panties any day of the week! cooing and kissing on you until you’re pleading for his tongue

loves to have your legs up over his shoulders or have your feet rest on them, your comfort is always important to him

he’ll take breaks to breathe, grinning at you as you pant and run your hands through his hair

but then he goes straight back to tongue fucking you, his mouth so wet and soft

encourages you to come in such a gentle voice, then he licks you absolutely clean

𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙉𝘿𝙀

loves to do it most when you’re already so spent

he’ll pull out of you and grab onto your calves so he can lasso you to the edge of the bed and devour you with every last fiber of his being

he moves slow, deathly slow & his kisses are deep, long, & wet

you curl your hand along the side of his head, palm to his ear as your legs flail and quiver from weakness

and all you can do is whine and whimper his name, jerking out of his mouth because you’re so sensitive

but he just grabs onto your thighs, keeping you open for him, forehead forming wrinkles as his eyes pan up to watch your shaking chest and stomach, your beady eyes

“that’s it, baby,” he hums, hardening his tongue when he knows you’re close. “look at me…”

and most of the time you can come from how pretty he looks down there. he’s just that powerful

𝙊𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙀

literally….. give this man a medal

freddy puts his whole face in it, nose, mouth, chin, he embraces it all

and he’s so eager, smiling and chuckling the whole time, his tongue flickering like a fucking garden sprinkler

he always has a hand on your breast, teasing your nipple between his fingers while his other fingers slip inside you, his lips sucking hard on your clit

love love loves when you suck his fingers while he goes down on you

he also loves to flip you on your stomach and get at you from behind, spreading your ass and thighs

you push back against his face and all he can do is moan, he’s just so enamored by how sexy you are

he goes so fast that you never have time to keep up with your own climb and before you know it you’re crying for him to make you come

he’s so muffled as he talks you through it through his open mouth, “comeformebaby… comeforme…”

𝙀𝘿𝘿𝙄𝙀

nearly always finds a way to get you to suck his dick at the same time, but nevertheless you don’t complain

he likes the way your moans feel when they vibrate along his cock

you’ll come more than once when eddie’s involved because you won’t stop until he comes and that can take a while

when you’re in 69, he’ll wrap his arms around your waist so you can’t move, absolutely demolishing your pussy with his mouth

other times he’ll make your spread your vulva for him and he’ll let a string of spit run down on you to get you wetter

he loves how wet you get

rotates between rubbing and licking your clit

always does a courtesy fuck afterward no matter how many times you came beforehand cuz he just can't resist

[killingitreservoirdogsstyle]

Hey, it’s me, just stopping by with my Cute Freddy thoughts! I can seriously picture him and his SO setting up 4th of July decorations around their shared apartment and getting a bunch of snacks and alcohol and inviting the rest of the dogs over!

Bonus: Mr. White would definitely help with the decorating and getting everything together! And they would play cards against humanity!!!

🌸

Hi friendo! So sorry for my late reply! How have you been doing? These are seriously so cool, I love this idea! I haven't ever attended a 4th of July celebration if you can believe that, probably because I'm Canadian and our version of it is on the 1st. Oh my goodness, I can just picture the scene so well though! I have to write headcanons for this here, which I'll do, albeit short. But yes, this is a fantastic idea! I hope that's okay with you if I write your thoughts up as headcanons, please let me know if it isn't and I'll correct it!

Full credit goes to this wonderful anon with extras added on by yours truly!

FANDOM: Reservoir Dogs

GENRE: Romantic relationship, platonic friendship, and fluff headcanons!

SYNOPSIS: Freddy Newandyke and his gender neutral partner throw a great party with the ResDogs to celebrate the 4th of July!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Swearing and drinking, but this is totally fluffy and cute!

Freddy is definitely excited to celebrate the 4th of July with you--as mundane as he thinks it is, he views it as an opportunity to have some quality time with you and the other Dogs. Thanks to multiple jobs, shifts at the station, and being too exhausted in the end, Orange hadn't been able to get that one on one time every couple needs, which he regretted. So even if it wasn't just the two of you, he was thrilled at the prospect of being able to have some time not weighed down by the ugliness of life.

He's getting ready for the big day a week beforehand, no question about that at all. You just come home from the grocery store one weekend to find him and White have busted out the decorations over a beer and K-Billy's Super Sounds of the Seventies: think streamers, colour-coordinated blues and reds, a massive American flag, the whole works, he goes big or goes home, literally. The excitement on the undercover cop's face was like a lightbulb, he was practically beaming. So you helped them out, laughing and catching up the whole time.

You invited all the Dogs over for a barbecue in the backyard of your apartment, the landlord on vacation and other tenants too busy to mind you guys out on the lawn cooking up ribs and getting drunk, so it worked out perfectly fine.

OKAY, ALL THE DOGS COME OVER IN OPEN HAWAIIAN SHIRTS AND SHORTS, YOU CAN'T TELL ME OTHERWISE. THEY LOOK LIKE THEY'RE ON VACATION TO TAHITI OR SOMEWHERE LIKE THAT, BUT IT'S SO FUNNY. ( Imagine that though, all of them in printed summery shirts like that, somebody needs to draw this as soon as possible, XD )

Blonde comes carrying three big cases of Budweisers and vodkas, decked out in his cowboy boots and hat with a piece of grass between his teeth. Brown, bless his heart, brings his camcorder and projector so you guys can watch movies if you want. In gold chains and diamond rings, Eddie supplies the ingredients for margaritas and the ribs though he looks a little too fabulous for a barbecue. White takes along his guitar, ready to play in case of impromptu singing. And Pink, being the sarcastic God-awful shit he is, is more than happy to crack out Cards Against Humanity.

So after eating to your heart's content, getting a little too drunk and doing inebriated renditions of the American national anthem, you all sing along to some Stealer's Wheel and Bedlam before playing Cards Against Humanity and laughing your asses off like horrible people, XD.

WAIT I THOUGHT OF ANOTHER ONE! What if Orange inflated a kiddie pool for the party and pulled out water guns? CAN YOU IMAGINE THAT?! WATER-GUN WARS AND SPLASHING AROUND IN THIS WAY TOO SMALL POOL DRUNKENLY?! Holy shit, I'm freaking crying at this idea, ha ha. Eddie just steals the pool, and is like, " FUCK OFF, I'M THE KING OF THE CASTLE, BITCH!" in a slurred voice.

Anyways, the Dogs end up sleeping on your guys' floors and couch, poor Brown getting the worst lot and having to curl up in the bathtub. The next morning, they all make their way home, and you and Freddy spend a nice day together cuddling, playing video games, watching TV, and just being together.

UGH, SORRY FOR HOW BAD THESE WERE! I am drowning in my schoolwork, seriously, I have so much to catch up on but I'd much rather be writing here than doing assignments, ha ha. It looks like I might get a hiatus from my academics in August, so hopefully I can go back to writing regularly for you guys! I do promise that I have your requests drafted or ready, it's just finding time to get them out that is the issue. But anyways, have a great week everyone, and here's to what is hopefully a great summer!

[casahoeva]

Fool for Love - Mr Brown x Reader

The sound of Sandy Rogers drifted into the warm summer evening through your open kitchen window. You moved your hips to the beat, smiling as you hummed the melody to yourself. It was rare moments like these, when Brown was out with his buddies, that you’d let yourself dance without embarrassment. It wasn't like he would mock you, it was more a confidence thing, you were no Ginger Rogers when it came to dancing.

You shimmied over to the radio, cranking up the volume slightly. No doubt your neighbour Julie would have something to say next time she needed Brown's help with her darned computer, but you didn't really care. It was fun, and you felt free. Plus, it wasn't like you complained much when she played Moonlight Sonata at full volume to lull her beloved Mr Tiddles to sleep. With the amount you heard the piece, it wasn't completely hyperbolic to suggest you could play it from memory despite never even touching a piano.

Another spin left you in front of the coffee machine, and you poured the beans in, ready for Brown's return. He always did love a coffee when he got home... it was the least you could do since he'd got you that rather expensive ring last week. Though, he had dodged several questions on just how he'd come about the money. "Can we focus on the ring? I don't ask for your entire finical history!" and other little comments like that earnt him a flick on the nose.

A small smile occupied your face as you thought about Brown. Everything about the man intrigued you, from his odd sense of humor to his almost scarily extensive film knowledge, it was hard not to love him. Deep in thought, and still swaying to the beat, Brown's entrance and subsequent ritual kicking off of his shoes went completely unnoticed.

He stood there for a moment or two, watching as you danced with that cute little smile he did whenever he caught you doing something cute. Finally, after he realised the staring was getting a tad creepy, he spoke. "Nice dancin' baby. Can I join you?" he said, softer than usual, not wanting to spook you too much.

This was going to be fun... Brown was an even worse dancer than you.  

Links: Archive of Our Own // Wattpad

[ciaoteamo]

Milk and Water (Pt. I)

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: One of the newest residents’ very first doppelgänger comes in, trying to sway you into to letting them in. Will you..?

pt.II

art credit (twt: loafuu_chii)

warning: 18+ content

“…what’s the story behind your um… ears(?)” You ask the doppelgänger before you. It was a clone of one of your favorite neighbors actually, her name was Maria.

A woman around your age that you became really close friends with over the few months of you working here.

“@&! !$?&” The doppelgänger let out a series of sounds.

“right, so give me one second” You press the bright red button next to the window and the steel blinds shut with a blaring alarm sound.

You call D.D.D. and they clean up their mess per usual. You once again, you were just thankful you didn’t have to work on that side of the glass.

You check your wrist watch, and happily sigh at the fact that you only had one more hour left to work.

“ mmm, someone’s eager to go home i see” A familiar voice speaks up.

“oh, Mr. Francis” You give the man a polite grin. He gave you a sly one in return. You knew it wasn’t him off the bat. Francis was usually shy towards you, making you want to tease him into blushing whenever you saw him.

Well, you suppose you could kill two birds with one stone. Flirt with the doppelgänger of your crush, and have some entertainment.

“how are you pretty girl” He asks, sliding an I.D. and sheet through the slot.

You examine the documents and identification and beam a smile up at him.

“the date on the I.D. is a little expired hun” You declare. He lets out a small chuckle and leans a little toward the glass.

“mmm, been busy with the milk business, love. must’ve slipped my mind to renew it” He replied. His eyes were low but he still held his sly grin. You leaned back in your chair, with a bored look on your face.

“you’re not like my Francis” You huff and tilt your head with a disappointed look.

His grin faltered and he stepped closer. His breathing had quickened a bit and he took off his hat. “who knows, i could be better” He suggests.

Now that his confidence had depleted a little, you were growing bored of him. You checked the time again and you had 45 minutes left.

“well i’ve gotta get you moving now. it was nice to see such a handsome face though, so thank you” You beam and reach for the button

“you don’t want to do this, trust me” He states with a warning tone. This wasn’t unusual, getting threats after realizing they’re doppelgängers, but being that this one was this aware… they must be evolving.

“and why would i trust you?” You ask out of curiosity.

“i mean look at me” He smirks, one arm leaned against the top of the window. His irises turned from their chocolate brown and into an empty pure white.

“hm” You nod and press the button.

“(Y/N)!” He roared with what you assume was his fist banging the glass.

You call D.D.D. and wait for them to clean their mess, again.

The steel blind begins to lift and you sit back in your seat, checking your watch again but noticed the new pink lighting that shone in.

You furrow your eyebrows and look up in horror as you see blood streaks on the window in thick, and dripping amounts. You jump out of your chair and put your back against the wall.

About 5 D.D.D. workers were piled up, bloody and battered in the corner of the room, and there the doppelgänger was.

Staring at you.

His eyes were low, his shirt was torn, revealing his pecs and the start of his abdomen. He was panting with his (surprisingly still) neat hair and an almost psychotic expression.

“oh no…” He starts with a laugh, still breathing heavily.

“what did you do..?” You cover your mouth with your hand.

“it’s what you did. you got me all riled up.”

He looks down for a brief moment and you swear you hear a zip. He holds his tie and the end of his tattered shirt in his mouth and looks up at you with knitted eyebrows.

His breath fogging up the window as he asks you. Looking like a poor starving puppy. “will you let me in now…? I need your help…” He slightly groaned.

“…what. the. fuck.”

[rockhoundbeck]

Headcanon #1:

Mr. Pink would be the kind of people who u flirt at and he'll kick u out since you've been doing it in public...

But as soon as you're alone he'll do anything to drive u crazy...

[juleswritesstuff]

Starving

Basically, just Theo being the munch that he is.

theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut

Enjoy💗

You had always hated Herbology with a deep passion.

Not the plants per se, those were rather fascinating to observe, but did they really need to have such a vast variety of species ? Was it actually necessary ?

Apparently it was, or Mrs Sprout wouldn't have given you a whole 600 words essay to write on every type of mandrake known to man.

Those screaming little things got on your nerves, and you could barely understand what the professor was talking about while tending to them. Hence, you were finding it extremely difficult to complete that paper.

The door of your dorm room suddenly opened and you had to restrain a curse from slipping through gritted teeth.

You had really hoped to not get interrupted.

Apparently your prayers weren't heard.

“You busy, dolcezza ?” (sweetie)

A more than familiar voice reached your ears. You lifted your eyes from your paper and they landed on none other than Theodore Nott, who was standing right in front of your door, now closed again, with a faint smirk plastered on his face. 

You rolled your eyes. You knew that little grin all too well.

“Kind of, yeah” you replied, your attention going back to the paper in front of you as you started scribbling again with your quill “Aren't you ? You're in this class too, have you already finished your essay ?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Just turned it in, so I have some time to kill” he said with that cocky attitude of his.

Infuriating and charming at the same time, truly unfair.

“Good for you, then. I don't, so if you could leave me to it, it would be much appreciated” you said as a forced smile curved your lips.

“Oh, come on. You don't even have a little time ? Per me ?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side with the most innocent expression he could master. (For me ?)

Which didn't work because his eyes screamed trouble.

Theo looked like an angel with his brown hair curled in soft locks and eyes as blue as the ocean, although dead and emotionless looking.

Actually, he was the devil in disguise. Especially when he acted all coy like this.

“No Theo, I really don't have time for your little antics today” you said huffing.

‘His little antics’ being eating you out till tears rolled down your cheeks and your mascara was smudged and unsalvageable. 

You and Theo were ‘friends’. You got along just fine, you talked, and you bickered like there was no tomorrow. It was part of your friendship, the teasing, the little harmless jokes. It was routine for the two of you.

What was also routine was the flirting. 

Shameless and obvious flirting.

You never thought it would lead anywhere. You were so used to the little Italian endearments he gave you and the ever present smirk on his lips that you didn't really think anything of it.

Until one night, after one of the biggest parties that Slytherin had ever thrown, you ended up in his bed, with him between your legs eating you out like his life depended on it.

You didn't even know how you found yourself in that situation, you just knew that you hadn't minded one bit.

You ended up with shaky legs and a dizzy brain just by his tongue alone.

Saying that you didn't mind it would've been an euphemism.

The day after was awkward as hell, but you both were too direct and honest to not deal with the weird atmosphere immediately.

So you decided to add some…privileges to your relationship. 

You discovered Theo had quite an oral fixation. 

He needed to keep his mouth occupied with something.

Cigarettes were a great way to keep his mouth busy, but they were extremely damaging for his health.

You didn't mean to make him stop smoking, you knew it would've been basically impossible, and, if you had to be completely honest with yourself, he looked so damn hot with those death traps between his lips, but you wanted to at least try to reduce the amount of nicotine that went into his body.

And what better way than to bribe him with the second thing he loved the most in the world ?

Eating you out seemed to be his favorite hobby.

Anytime he felt the need to light one cigarette more than necessary he came to you, with that sinful smirk on his lips and the hottest ‘fuck me’ eyes he could master.

And who were you to say no ? 

You had proposed the deal in the first place.

Plus, he was amazing at it too. The way his tongue worked on your cunt definitely felt like ascending to heaven.

But now you really didn't have the time.

“I'm not here because I feel like smoking, Y/n” he said walking up to you and stopping in front of the desk, leaning forward a little as he supported his weight with his hands on the table. 

You made the mistake of lifting your eyes from the parchment and locking them with his. His gaze was magnetic. Once those pools of stormy sea caught you, you couldn't escape.

“Then why are you here ?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“Cause I'm starving, tesoro” he uttered with the calmest and most unaffected tone in his voice. (darling)

You narrowed your eyes.

“Then you should be in the kitchen to solve that little problem, don't you think ?” you asked rhetorically, eyes going back to focus on the parchment in front of you.

You heard him scoff, and suddenly he was leaning so much closer.

Your head was still hung low, trying to write that damn essay, but his presence was distracting as hell and you couldn't help but shiver when he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“You're right, that would be the perfect solution if I was hungry for food” he stopped and you could feel the teasing smile plastered on his face 

“But all I'm craving is you and that pretty little cunt of yours, so I don't think the kitchen elves could really help me with that”

You wished you could say his words didn't affect you, you really wished.

But the sudden warmth on your cheeks and the unconscious clench of your legs told another story.

You really didn't have time for this, but your body was craving him and his touch like crazy, and you weren't sure you would've been able to focus if you didn't feel his tongue working its wonders on you.

So you sighed and pushed the chair you were sitting on a bit farther away from the desk, enough to take your knickers off and throw them somewhere behind you, then you sat back, your skirt still covering you up until your mid thighs.

His eyes darkened with lust.

“Make it quick, I have an essay to finish” you said, faking indifference.

On the inside you were burning alive.

“Quick ? It's like you don't know me at all, dolcezza” he said with a scoff as he sank to his knees, crawling until he was right in front of you.

His gaze locked in yours as his hands made contact with the bare skin of your legs, caressing them gently, tenderly.

“I'll take my sweet time with you. Ora fai la brava and open those gorgeous legs for me” you hated how fast you complied, but with the way he was looking at you you really couldn’t help yourself. (Now be good) 

He lifted your skirt and he leaned forward.

As soon as his tongue made contact with your folds you melted.

You choked out a whimper, and you could feel him smirk right against your groin.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Nott, I'm only -ah fuck, I'm only doing it because you begged me” you said as he kept lapping at your core with his tongue, wrapping his lips around your clit to give it a gentle suck.

The moan that rippled out of you was almost pornographic.

“Piccola bugiarda, you know that's not true. You're doing it because you want it too” he moved his mouth from your cunt to your thighs, giving feather light kisses on the sensitive skin. (Little liar)

“You're so wet, you didn't think I would notice ?” he asked with that fucking cocky attitude that made you go crazy.

“Shut up and put that mouth to a better use” you said, but the bite in your voice was definitely toned down by the urgency and neediness of having his mouth back where you needed him the most.

His head tilted to the side as he leaned back just the tiniest bit.

“What's with the attitude, uh ?”

“No, no, no, -shit Theo. Come back here” you said, almost whining.

He was too far, and you needed him.

You needed him closer, way fucking closer.

“E come si dice ?” he teased, his eyes were dark and fogged up by lust and hunger. (And what do you say ?)

“Fuck, why do you always want me to beg ?” you asked, defeated. He leaned forward again, his breath hovering right above the tender skin as you clenched around nothing, feeling the loss of his tongue.

“Because it's fun, I love it when you beg me with that sweet mouth of yours. Plus I like seeing you flustered” he said as he started to kiss every inch and nook of your most sensitive area, avoiding where you really wanted him to.

You wanted to curse so bad, but you knew that was not what he wanted, what he needed.

“Theo -fuck. Please Theo, just touch me. Please” you surrendered, your voice whiny and broken, until a melody of moans and whimpers started to ripple out of your lips as soon as his mouth met your folds again.

And this time he didn’t stop.

He lapped at your juices like a starved man enjoying his meal for the first time in days.

He licked, and sucked, and kissed every centimeter, every inch of tender skin like he was born to do that.

Your hands buried in his soft brown locks and you tugged at them unconsciously after a particularly good roll of his tongue made you see stars.

“Cazzo, se continui così verrò nei pantaloni porca puttana” he said, hissing. His mouth kept working wonders on your cunt, his groans creating delicious vibrations on your clit. (Fuck, if you keep this up I'll come in my pants, holy shit)

“Ancora” he said between ravenous licks and delicate, teasing sucks, guttural moans leaving his lips. (Again)

“What ?” you asked, lost in pleasure. Your little knowledge of the Italian language became nonexistent when he was busy making you cry on his tongue.

“Again, baby. You know i fucking love it” he says, mouthing the words right against your core.

And so you obeyed, tugging at his hair again, a little rougher, a little harder.

A low groan left his lips.

You were close, you were so fucking close.

“Shit, Theo, baby” you moaned out loud, the term of endearment completely slipping out.

Theo seemed to notice, because he started to go faster, tongue flicking desperately at your folds.

Your breath got caught in your lungs, your ears rang and your sight turned black as you got hit by pleasure.

The hand on his hair kept Theo close as you rode your orgasm on his tongue.

He lapped at your juices carefully, to not overstimulate you, leaving sweet butterfly kisses on your thighs, worshiping the skin with his lips.

Once your breathing started to go back to normal and your sight was not blurry from the pleasure anymore you looked at him.

He was still kneeling in front of you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips as his eyes focused on your face.

“You look quite disheveled, principessa” he said with a chuckle, pride oozing from his features for reducing you in that state. All fucked out and breathless. (princess)

“Oh, yeah ? And whose fault is that ?” you asked in mocking shock, but you couldn't help a chuckle from escaping your lips.

“And you're one to talk” you added as you took in his appearance. His eyes were still quite foggy and unfocused, his hair a mess from all the tugging, and his lips.

Oh, his lips. Red and shiny with your essence and the tiniest bit swollen.

He looked too fucking good to be true.

You knew you folded too easily when Theo was involved, but you couldn’t help it.

“I told you I was starving, you underestimated my eagerness to fucking devour you” he said with a shrug, wetting his lips to savor your taste once again, like his words didn’t make you feel like you were catching fire.

That mouth of his was a menace, physically and literally.

“I’m never gonna be able to finish this stupid essay now” you said almost desperately.

He laughed at your pathetic whining, but it was a warm laugh, not one made to mock you but one that was closer to endearment.

“Was it so good that it melted your brain off ?” he asked with that cocky grin of his.

You looked at him with a deadpan expression.

“Your overly confident attitude never fails to amaze me, Theodore Nott '' you said with a chuckle. You straightened your posture on the chair, smoothing out all the wrinkles that he had left from fisting your skirt and holding on for dear life to keep your hips still.

“Now I don’t want to kick you out, but I really need to finish this”

“No need for that, tesoro, I’ll leave you to it. Wouldn’t want to distract you too much” he said, getting back up on his feet and tucking a rebellious strand of your hair behind your ear.

“See you at dinner ?” he asked. 

You simply nodded your head yes.

His hand was still gently caressing your cheek, the pads of his fingers were as light as a feather as they danced on your skin.

His eyes were locked in yours, and you had no idea of what was happening.

Until his fingers reached your chin, tilting your head up the slightest bit. 

Then he leaned in.

For the first time since you had started this ‘arrangement’ his lips met yours.

And they were sweeter than you thought, gentle, but there was an undertone of hunger, of neediness that you couldn’t ignore.

He tasted of nicotine and butter beer, bittersweet and addicting.

His lips were slightly chapped but you couldn’t care less about it as his tongue swiped on your bottom lip, his teeth grazing at it gently right after as he carefully bit the plump skin.

He pulled back slowly and you were left speechless.

He just chuckled at your wide eyes and agape mouth.

“Good luck on your essay, ok ? I’ll see you tonight” he left a quick kiss on your cheek before storming out of the door with a smile on his face.

Your thoughts were all over the place, because what the hell had just happened ?

Did Theodore Nott just kiss you ?

Something a little different from my usual marauders content, but he's been stuck in brain for weeks now, and I couldn't help myself 😔

And honestly, as an Italian girl, I really think Lorenzo Zurzolo should be classified as a national treasure, thank you for coming to my ted talk.