#onwards & upwards yeah?

[gallawitchxx]

a final 2023 offering for the @galladrabbles prompt room for more by @dynamic-power 🖤

- - - - -

It’d been a hard year, but a good year for business. Maybe their best yet. So Ian had grabbed a case of champagne from the liquor store, and he and Mickey threw a party on New Year’s Eve. Toasted to future fortune like kings, in their Westside apartment with their Southside family.

When the bottles had run dry, and everyone had gone home, Mickey snuck downstairs for his first smoke of the new year.

Christ, they’d gotten fucking bougie.

As if reading his mind, Ian appears, holding two cans of Old Style and a pocket knife.

“Got room for more?”

[charmac]

Okay, seriously, it's genuinely so so kind and thoughtful of RCG to hold back on canon Macdennis this season because of their early premonition of the union strikes. I mean, of course they were thinking of us, the loyal fans, when they decided: No, let's hold back on Macdennis fucking nasty sloppy style because when it airs and SAG-AFTRA goes on strike, we won't be able to post or talk about it. We can't do that to the gay Sunny fans, we can't let Reddit talk shit and try and excuse it away and not be able to fight back, so we'll have to wait.

RCG were so kind when they sat down and decided: We'll wait another season or two to have Mac fully penetrate Dennis on screen so we can post about it and talk about it in 5+ hour-long podcast episodes under the new WGA and SAG TV contracts when they're fully cemented in favour of the Writers and Actors.

Imagine IF Macdennis did canon this season and they just had to be silent, couldn't post or talk about it, just... *crickets* from the actors whose characters are finally getting together after an 18-year-long slow burn. 16 Seasons in and Macden finally smash but RCG can't say a single thing? Can't even repost or retweet the scene? Now that would be true hell. Thank god they didn't canon this season.

So glad they had the foresight to wait until SAG strikes a good deal with streamers and Hulu has to pay them a good chunk of revenue every single time I sit through 3 ads to watch the Season 18 full-penny scene again, and again, and again.

[captainbobbin]

It's my birthday today

I've always struggled a lot with my birthday. Its a very difficult time of year and I always feel immense pressure and guilt around it. But this year I'm trying hard to be better. I've gone out with gamenight gang and had movie sessions with my buds. I'm doing a little better. I'm very thankful for the people in my life, and things have gotten easier over time. Here's to the coming year being even better than this one. I love you guys, thanks for putting up with me ha;

[dandyshucks-moving]

there's this one photo I've seen floating around a few times with the words "I wish we could've met as kids, you would've loved the softer me" and I think about it every now and then

so ... art ʅ(๑ ᷄ω ᷅ )ʃ

[driftwoodskeleton]

sending you love and good vibes 💕

thank you, anon<3

i appreciate it

[loumauve]

and I feel gay on this tumblr tonight

[hopeofitalll]

The thing about therapy and learning to understand your feelings and label them is that when we put words to what we feel, we can learn to accept how we feel in the moment. And then happiness is no longer the ultimate goal, because happiness is like any feeling. It’s temporary and not necessarily something we can choose or control. Instead, we can choose a goal we can take action for, like compassion or confidence or bravery, or whatever. And when we accept how we feel in the moment, we can accept that sometimes we’ll have uncomfortable feelings and can still do the hard things anyway. I don’t like feeling bored while doing homework or cleaning, but I can feel bored and take care of what I need to, and it’s okay. I don’t like feeling anxious when I meet new people, but I can do it and it can help me become less isolated. And on and on. When we say it’s okay to not be okay, it means I accept where I am right now and I can still do hard things.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

_

_

[an-asuryampasya]

oh

just received my first email as an ✨alumnus✨ from my undergrad uni and I'm having Emotions about it 🥹🥹

[ohtobeleah]

California Fornication //

One — ‘That was Jake’

Summary: When the man you’d been seeing turned out to have a wife, your world came crashing down around you. While you tried your best to move onwards and upwards, the very reason for all your recent relationship problems comes strolling into the bar.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating. Love Triangle x2. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Jake Seresin xF!reader. Question ing Morality. Angst.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author Note: Based off the first scene Mark Sloan is in. Greys Anatomy.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It always plays on repeat in your mind like a slow motion picture, like a scene in one of those old timey movies where everyone and everything slows down so that the main protagonist can understand the situation unfolding around them. 

That moment where your boyfriend of only a few months— Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, told you that he was technically married, haunted you day in and day out. Married to the woman who’d come up to the pair of you in the locker room on base after she’d been transferred to North Island. She’d come waltzing over with a confident smile and a pretty face. She knew she was about to turn your life on its axis. 

For better or worse. 

“Y/n.” It wasn’t often people actually said your name, majority of the same it was your callsign—but the way the colour drained from Bradleys face as he turned to you with a gut wrenching look smeared across his usually perfect face, had your stomach churning. “I’m so sorry—“ 

“Hi, I’m Katie Bradshaw—“ The woman, who mind you, was stunning to say the very least, stuck her hand out to shake yours. You took it gracefully, with enough conviction in your grip to not have it show you were completely blindsided by that all too familiar last name. 

“Bradshaw?” You smiled softly as you sent Rooster a confusing look. He’d never mentioned a sister or a cousin before in the few months you’d been seeing and sleeping together. 

“I’m Rooster's wife—“ Those three words would forever haunt you. “And you must be the woman who’s been screwing my husband?” 

“Hey! Siren!” It was Phoenix’s voice that broke you out of the trance you’d fallen into as you showed. Her fist slamming against the shower door three quick and consecutive times made you jump a little as the warm water encapsulated you entirely. “You coming to the Hard Deck?” 

“Yeah yeah, just give me a few minutes!” You replied as you washed your face. “I’ll meet you guys over there.” It had only been three weeks since you called it quits with the mustache having aviator who had stolen your heart. The entire situation made you feel dirty. Even if you weren’t the one in the wrong. No amount of showering could wash away the dirty feeling you’d been left with. 

What could be worse than being branded the dirty mistress? That no one told you about the cheating scandal that had rocked the Bradshaws' happy marriage about a year ago. That was worse. 

Bradley swore black and blue he was going to tell you. He’d sworn the rest of the squad to secrecy about the details too. He wanted to be the one to tell you. To tell you that you were the first woman he’d been with since he’d walked in on his wife, Katie, and his best friend, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, in bed together. 

Still, the ultimatum was given. You’d asked Bradley to pick you, choose you, love you. But when the time came to decide he chose his wife. His reasonings were none of your business nor concern. 

And so you walked away. Labelled the mistress and the interim love affair. Even against the Chester you didn’t compare—and that crushed you completely. 

“You’ve been doing that an awful lot lately.” Pennys voice broke through the haze you’d fallen into at the bar. The drink you’d ordered, Gin Sour, sat in front of you on a Hard Deck coaster. “What’s on your mind daydreamer?” 

“More like a never ending nightmare Pen.” You sighed before reaching for your drink. “This whole situation makes me feel like I need a lobotomy.” 

“Rooster still trying to force a friendship?” In truth Bradley thought he owed his marriage just one more shot. But right after you walked away he immediately started to regret his decision to choose his wife. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and all that was you. He’d made the wrong decision, but was too proud to admit it. Especially to his wife. 

He stood across the Hard Deck with a beer in his hand and his arm slung around her hip, looking at you like a puppy you’d left out in the rain. He missed you, oh so much. And that fact you hardly spoke to him these days made his heart hurt inside his chest. 

“Yeah—and I don’t think I can handle it anymore.” You admitted before taking a sip of your drink. “I’ve asked for a transfer, just to make it easier. I can’t focus, can’t sleep, because he’s just—always around.” 

“Sounds to me like you’re just running away from your problems.” Penny held her tongue as she watched the tall sandy blonde appear next to you at the bar. “That, or you know that you’re still in love with the guy and no matter what you do he’ll still manage to wiggle his way in because you’ll always allow him to.” It took you a few moments to register what the stranger beside you said as you eyed him up and down. 

“Sensitivity—“ You rolled your eyes. “I like that in a stranger.” The alcohol coursed through your body like a mild painkiller. “Are you new in town?” The civvies were an excellent camouflage against the sea of tans that flooded the Hard Deck—and Penny wasn’t about to be the one who told you the stranger you were talking to was the reason for your current situation. 

“Just visiting—“ He made sure to lie, a little white lie never hurt anyone. Or so they said. But the man beside you with the perfect smile and emerald green eyes definitely wanted to see how far he could get this conversation. “I’m confounded by all the patches and it’s only my first day in town.” He sighed softly as he sat beside you. “Budweiser please Barkeep.” Penny nodded without another word. 

“You get used to it, North Island is a Naval Base after all.” It felt like a needed explanation. The stranger beside you nodded softly as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket. 

“So I’ve heard.” A comfortable silence fell between you and the handsome stranger as he waited for his beer. “Kinda wish I’d stayed in bed, if I had known this place would be crawling with Naval Officers I wouldn’t have bothered.” Oh he knew, he knew all right. 

He knew that the Hard Deck would be packed to the rafters with the Dagger Squad and he certainly knew North Island was a Naval Base. Why? Because he was a part of that designated team. You’d just been the one who replaced him while he was tasked to special ops. Now? He was back to cause chaos. 

“Hey Rooster—“ Fanboy grabbed Bradley’s attention away from Bob. “You see who’s at the bar with Siren?” As Bradley turned his attention back to where he’d known you to be sitting for the better half of the evening, he immediately saw red. A jealousy that rivaled nothing he’d ever felt before consumed him fully, even if his wife was tucked in at his side. 

“We just met and already you’re talking about bed.” You chuckled softly as you took another sip of your drink. Penny had since passed Jake his Budweiser and before you knew it, he was laughing softly beside you. “Not very subtle.” 

“Being subtle was never really my strong suit.” The man beside you replied with a look of all knowing. He knew something you didn’t. If you didn’t know any better you would have asked what that may have been. But you chose to take another sip of your gin. Settletting once again into the comfortable silence that surrounded you and the stranger to your right. 

“So, you ever go out with co-workers?” It stunned you for a second, the forwardness of such a question, but then again—you still didn’t know this guy's name and he was making the heat in your cheeks reach new uncharted heights. 

“I um—“ You tucked some of your hair behind your ear and turned to give the golden skinned, white T wearing man beside you your full attention. Crossing your legs as you did so, so that his knees were on either side of yours. “I make it a rule not to.” His answer sent a shiver down your spin. A good shiver. A shiver that made your core flutter. 

“Then I am so glad that I don’t work here.” Maybe it was the gin talking or maybe it was your recent breakup, but this guy was the very definition of a piece of art. He was gorgeous, an Adonis that surely would have come straight out of accent metrology. 

“Are you hitting on me?” You tried to hide the keen grin that threatened to creep across your slightly heated face, but the sudden attention was giving you an ego boost you desperately needed after being rejected in favour of the cheating wife. 

“Would that be so wrong?” Oh this guy was good. Too good. His infectious smile captivated you in every way it could have. His eyes held a story that was dying to be told. His confidence made you want to lean in and taste it, like hard candy it probably tastes just as sweet as his scent smelled. With notes of Vanilla and warm Bourbon lingering from his neck. 

So you stuck your hand out for him to accept ever so politely. His eyes never left your as you smiled and bit your bottom lip bashfully. 

“I’m Y/n—“ “Lieutenant Y/n Siren Y/l/n.”  “And you are?” Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next. Remember that slow motion we were talking about earlier? Well, the seconds it took Bradley Bradshaw's fist to collide against your handsome mystery man’s cheek, it felt like a century as it played out in painfully slow motion before you. 

His head hit the bar with a thud as beer spilled into your lap. 

“Rooster! Jesus—!” You gasped as you stood and pushed against Bradley’s chest to back him up and away from the man you’d just been talking to. “Fuck! what the hell was that!?” 

Bradley didn’t answer right away as you turned to watch the blond stand with blood dripping down and out of his nose. The two stood there in silence, eyeing each other off as Penny fished out the bar's basic first aid kit. 

“That—“ Bradley huffed as he shook his throbbing hand. His jaw had never been so clenched before. He was furious and full of a rage that burned so deep it could have raised his core temperature by a few degrees. 

His wife stood off to the side looking all kinds of guilty. As did the rest of the Daggers. They knew this was about to get messy. They knew if he was back and already had his target set on you then there was going to be an all out war between the two men who stood ready to run at each other like angry bulls. 

And you, well—you were more concerned about the blood gushing from the nose of your stranger than you were about your ex’s possibly broken hand. But Bradley turned back to you, for a mere second to explain. 

And when he did—you forgot what morals were.

“That was Jake.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*

[firenati0n]

cause you're classic, and i'm reckless

by firenati0n on ao3

T | 5.4k

tags: actor au, first kiss, fluff, alex pov, banter, falling in love

“I've, actually, uh. I've never done this before.” At this, Henry stops short, takes a second as his gaze moves up and to the left, trying to recall something. “I've seen your films. You most certainly have done intimate scenes.” Alex clears his throat. He hopes his nerves aren't completely obvious, the slight waver in his voice about to give him away. “Yeah, well. Never with a man, so. Not at this scale, anyway.” “Would it help to, er, practice?" Henry winces a little as he says it, which does not inspire confidence. But Alex is shocked nonetheless. What the fuck?

xoxo roop

P.s. this was absolutely inspired by THEEEE ryan gosling/rachel mcadams MTV 2005 video. You know the one.

also tagging some folks who expressed interest in this don't mind me <3 ilysm

@sail-not-drift @onward--upward @suseagull04 @littlestar2911 @welcometololaland @dragonflylady77 @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @ninzied @sherryvalli @piratefalls @indestructibleheart @onthewaytosomewhere @heybuddy-drabbles @priincebutt @cactusdragon517 @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @rmd-writes @eusuntgratie @cha-melodius @bigassbowlingballhead @getmehighonmagic @celeritas2997 @nontoxic-writes @porcelainmortal @4rthurfox

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: you and Wally had finally had a chance to talk, reviewed the information at your disposal, which, by then, had included the text you'd received from Xavier. Even with everything you'd been taught, had researched, had a profound knowledge of, things still hadn't made sense. Had Mr. Anderson really been the Big Bad of your Nancy Drew story? Or had something darker been afoot?

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence.

sorry for the delay, gorgeous ghouls; school bit me in the booty. like, just took a whole chunk of my 🍑 in its teeth and tore 🦈 but that's done now 🫠 onwards and upwards!

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.13

"—and then this morning, Zav texted—"

"Who?"

"Xavier? Maddie's boyfriend?"

Recognition dawned, "Oh, yeah. I know him," spoken with a sour inflection.

"Yeah, him. He's like my brother from another mother." One who'd flounced out of Xavier's life in 8th Grade and had taken half the family assets with her to Milwaukee.

"Anyway," You resumed your summary of events, "He sent me this." Leaning forward, you showed Wally the picture of Maddie's ticket on your phone. "They found it in the woods not too far from here."

After yesterday's series of unfortunate interruptions, you and Wally had ensconced yourselves halfway up the rows of spectator seats in the stadium. Apart from a groundskeeper on the field and a maintenance worker floating about the upmost level of the grandstand, you were blissfully alone.

You sat sideways, Wally's varsity jacket balled up and shoved behind your back so the armrest wouldn't dig into your spine (his idea). Your knees were bent over the armrest that divided your seat and Wally's, socked feet on his lap, lounging as comfortably as was possible in your position.

Wally, meanwhile, held your ankle, thumb occasionally stroking under the hem of your jeans, and had his legs splayed wide to accommodate their length in such a tight space. Arm stretched across the backs of your seats, fingers of his other hand absentmindedly lifting and placing strands of your hair at the back of your head.

It was nice. Casual.

You and Wally were totally and utterly attuned as if sharing space was a regular occurrence. As if he'd always been part of your story, alongside Xavier and Hana and Lucas, trading easy touches and unfiltered thoughts the way people did when they'd known each other since baby teeth.

It was the connection, of course. A tequila glow under the skin that removed the awkwardness of getting to know someone new and replaced it with the opinion that everyone was ohana.

Once again, you'd spent the night with your nose in the gutter of every book you'd thought could be relevant, and not one had had the insinuation of an answer. If you'd been allowed to ask Nanna, you knew she'd say something ridiculous about soulmates, or twin flames or some other buzzword for 'meant to be'.

She was a diehard romantic like that, despite having suffered the loss of Grandpa Jack mere days after your uncle Andrew was born. She'd never remarried. Never dated. Was content to wait until her body expired and she reunited with Grandpa Jack in the afterlife.

It wasn't fair that Nanna couldn't Travel. That she couldn't see ghosts like you and your mother and Ginny. That the family rule prevented you from speaking to Grandpa Jack so you could relay his messages to Nanna.

In the absence of the swarms and storms and squalls you'd been threatened with if you ever spoke to the dead, you were beginning to hate that rule.

Wally pinched the top knot of your spine, lips swept into a roguish grin. "Lost you for a second there, pretty girl."

Deep brown eyes roamed your face for signs of where your mind had drifted. Having Wally's full attention made your heart beat a little faster, your stomach squirm, your breath catch. It brought with it a sense of empowerment; Wally, former star athlete and school hero, looking at you like you'd hung the moon.

"Uhm~." Eloquent.

Wally chuckled, breezy, and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I feel it, too." He admitted, catching his lip between straight, white teeth and glancing away with a blush. "It's not as crazy as it was yesterday, though."

"True." You said, "But it's still pretty intense. It's like taking one shot. You aren't quite tipsy, you're just vibing and it's—"

"Nice." Wally cut in, sloping a few inches forward.

Heat rose in your cheeks and you knew your eyes had gone honey-soft and dreamy under Wally's gaze. "Yeah. It is."

You gave yourself a moment to take in the feeling—sit with it, and accept it—before you decided it was time to get back to business.

"Alright," Wally crooked his arm at the elbow and propped his head on his fist, "Things we know so far: Mr. Anderson paid Maddie off."

"Check."

"But he's paranoid, so he decides to tie up loose ends and remove Maddie from the equation."

"Check."

"He lures her to the boiler room, attacks her, manages to hurt her enough to get blood on the walls, and then..." Wally's voice and expression turned dubious, "Maddie runs?"

You quickly picked up where Wally left off, "She heads through the woods where she drops her ticket, and then she makes it to the service road."

"Where Mr. A finds her—"

"Drugs her into a coma." You and Wally said together before he continued alone.

"—and then he brings her back here?"

You tried not to sound too hopeful when you asked, "How do you know he brought her back here? Did Maddie tell you?"

Wally had mentioned that Maddie couldn't remember anything about what had happened to her last Friday, but if she'd started to get her memory back, maybe this whole thing would be wrapped up before the weekend. Simon would have his best friend back, Xavier wouldn't be looked at like the school pariah anymore, and you and Wally could...

Focus on each other? Mathilda's face smirked at you in your mind.

Or something, You snapped back as you pictured yourself using a chalkboard eraser to erase Mathilda's image from the inside of your skull.

"Nah, babe," Wally said, "She still can't remember anything. At least, not that she's told me. But it doesn't matter because she's haunting the school, right?"

You peered at Wally who looked so eager to be helpful, and tried to fit the puzzle pieces together. Unfortunately, the pieces you had were turning into blobs of color without a picture for reference.

"Well, I mean, it could mean something," You supposed, willing to approach the theory from a new angle. "But she also could've followed him back here without realizing she wasn't in her body."

Wally's hand slipped up from your ankle to your calf where he began to massage the muscle, almost sympathetically. Like he was about to say something offensive and wanted you to be calm when you received it.

With mild suspicion, you listened to what he had to say, though by the end, you couldn't conceal your shock.

"I don't know what you read about ghosts, baby, but we can't move around like that. We haunt where we die. If Maddie's ghost is in the school, it's because that's where she left her body."

Internally, the blue screen of death crashed down as a bullhorn shrieked fatal system error.

Wrong Wrong Wrong.

Grandpa Jack had died in New York and you'd seen him plenty of times in Wisconsin. Hell, you'd seen American ghosts in the UK when you'd visited your dad. American ghosts who'd died on American soil. The books in your family's library verified that ghosts were at liberty to go wherever they pleased, having earned the right after they were relieved from the 'burden of living' (as one rather staunchly Catholic author had written).

And then you remembered, "You mean more trapped than the rest of us?" Wally had said yesterday.

Jack-knifing into an upright position, you gasped, "You're stuck here?!"

Slowly, as if scared to animate you further, Wally said, "Yeah. Whenever we step off school property, we end up back where we died." He glanced at the field warily. "It sucks."

"Wally," You breathed in and out deeply, heart hammering for a reason that had nothing to do with Wally's closeness, "That's not normal."

💀___________________________

PART TWELVE - PART FOURTEEN

note: friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears! i'll be traveling about 4 time zones back tomorrow and might not have the opportunity to write again until Monday 😔 i'll get the next part up as soon as i can, though, i promise. definitely before the end of next week 🫶

if you'd like to be kept up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS, since the taglist has malfunctioned 🙈 i'm still adding ppl to it, but i can't guarantee that it'll notify you when i update 💀

[armins-main-hoe]

Hi! I really liked ur writing so I was wondering if u can do this?

Inarizaki and shiratorizawa (or one of them) with a fem manager that gets into fights often? But it's because they have roots to delinquent family members so they're pretty recognisable,,, also she kicks ass pretty good so most of the time she comes out alive

aw thank you for liking my writing and for the request. Sorry I couldn't get round to writing it up sooner :/

"Oh no, you've got it all wrong. She does bite."

When you first signed up to be the manager for the boy's volleyball team, you really didn't think much of it. You only signed up because your parents wanted you to go to some sort of after school club.

You didn't like any of the clubs so you decided to be a manager for a sports team. Besides, you didn't think a manager would have to do much since most of the organisation for matches would be done by the teachers and coaches.

So here you are on your first day being introduced to the boys in the team.

Inarizaki

You stood before them with a deadpan face on.

"Hey, I'm Y/n L/n and I'll be your manager from today onwards."

They boys bowed and said their greetings but you still felt like some of them were looking at you funny. So you looked at one, he had bleached yellow hair. (Atsumu Miya)

"What?"

He tilted his head up and looked down at you suspiciously.

"Are you the Y/n L/n who got into a fight with Hiroto Ito a week ago?"

"Yeah, why? You looking for a fight too?"

Another boy came forward, he was slightly shorter but still a few inches taller than you with with black spikes for hair that went upwards. (Michinari Akagi)

"It was about time someone put that guy in his place. He was actually really annoying, would never let us practice in peace."

To your surprise, this boys were actually pretty nice to you and as you watched them practice you saw the passion they had for the sport.

Almost made you feel guilty for signing up for this role when you knew nothing about Volleyball.

You would hand out water bottles and towels during their breaks and tried your best to memories their names. Took you a few days to do that though.

Over the next few weeks, you ended up growing fond of the team and the team members which lead you to put more effort in your role as the manager.

You would take notes about each player, their strengths and weaknesses and you took time out of your day to learn the rules for volleyball. You didn't even realise when but your passion for the sport grew and grew.

Soon even the team members saw the improvement in you and grew fond of you as their manager. They hadn't ever had one before you and you were already setting their standard for a manager pretty high.

Soon you would even tease and joke around with them.

Their coach loved having you around for practice since the boys were actually kinda scared of you whenever they would mess up and made them try their very best each practice.

There was a time where they had a competition to go to where there would be a few other schools' volleyball teams attending too. It was your first match that you would be attending with them as their manager. Since it was your first, you didn't actually know how big the team's cheer squad was, which surprised you a bit when you first saw. There was also a crowd everywhere you went so it made it hard to move and get from one place to another.

However, around 15 minutes before matches you realised that Kita was missing for more than 10 minutes. The team can't play without their captain present. So you went to go quickly find him. After a few minutes you found him about to enter the changing rooms.

"Where were you? The team was waiting for you." You asked him.

"I had my phone on me and I was going to put it in a locker before the matches start." He put his phone up to show you. Before you or him could say anymore, someone from the crowd passing by with a hooded face snachted his phone and ran.

"Go back to the team. Go!" You pushed him in the direction to the entrance of the sports hall and then ran after the hooded face.

The guy ran down the streets and into an ally way which lead to a dead end. He turned around you saw that he was wearing a mask as well.

"Heh, what's a little girl like you gonna do huh?" The guy's voice came out a little muffled from his mask.

"A lot."

Safe to say you managed to beat his ass with the new moves your uncles had taught you. Though you did get a few scratches on your face and knuckles but you got Kita's phone back and the hooded guy seemed pretty beat up.

Running back to the competition, you just hoped Kita hadn't worried too much to mess up his performance. By the time you got back and made it to the coaches side, you saw that your team was already playing their first match.

At some point, Kita met your eyes and you gave him a toothy grin and a thumbs up while holding his phone in your other hand. He smiled back before focusing back on the game.

When they had a break in between the match, you handed out water bottles. When you gave one to Kita, he saw the scratches on your face.

"Did you get into a fight?"

"No, drink your water and don't worry, you're phone is in perfect condition."

"You got hurt though." When he said that, a few of the other team members turned around to check on you.

"Damn miss manager, you really shouldn't be kicking ass while your team is out here playing a match." Atsumu teased. He didn't know you chased a guy down an ally who stole his captain's phone.

"You know you should be careful or she might just kick your ass Atsumu." Osamu told him, sending you a smile before him and his brother began to bicker.

You shooed them all away once the break was over while rolling your eyes at their teasing remarks.

You had a small smile as you watched them play and you felt like this wouldn't be the first time you would get into a fight for them but you really couldn't care. They can repay you by getting first place.

Shiratorizawa

"I'm Y/n L/n and I'll be your manager from today forwards."

You were there at every practice they had, they would see you taking notes and giving out water bottles. You learned all their names and positions within 3 days. You were doing everything one would expect a manager to do and you would do it flawlessly.

Which actually surprised them since you were known throughout the school to get into fights with other students both in your school and from other schools.

However, not long since you began being their manager, you once came to practice late with some bruises on your hands and a rather sour mood.

Tendo asked you about it but you just shooed him away to practice more, even hitting him with your clipboard.

Another time, you came to practice with your hair a bit messy and a busted lip that had been poorly treated. Though luckily that time the coach wasn't there to report it to another teacher and Eita Semi and Kenjiro Shirabu dragged you to the infirmary to get it treated properly.

Once, you came to practice after a fight which you personally found very easy to finish. You didn't get any big, obvious injuries so to the other team members, they thought you hadn't came back from a fight and continued practice like usual.

But the captain knew otherwise. When he came over to the side to get a drink he walked over to you.

"So, who did you fight with today?"

"Huh, how did you know?"

"I'm an excellent observer."

"Uhh sure, well it wasn't anything too bad. So don't worry about me."

He chuckled.

"I'm not worried about you, I'm worried about the kid you beat up. Wonder what condition he is in right now."

"Gee captain, thanks for caring about your manager so much."

You both laughed before you fell silent.

"The bastard wouldn't quit saying nonsense about the team and starting up rumours." You told him.

"Aw, so you do care about us!" Tendo popped up on the other side of you.

"Fuck tendo! You scared me, I nearly punched you."

He laughed and put an arm around you.

"You beating up guys who talk shit about us? How thoughtful of you manager."

"Tendo do you want me to beat you up with my clipboard again?"

"Hehe, it's like we have our own personal bodyguard."

You smacked him with your clipboard.

"ow! Okay, okay, I'll stop. Gonna go practice some more. Talk to ya later miss bodyguard- I mean manager."

"Tendo!"

The other team members looked over at you and Tendo and were either laughing or sighing. "Looks like he is gonna get his ass beat again."

"He really should stop riling her up, she is actually kinda scary."

"Yeah but tendo is another breed, he isn't afraid."

Thank you for this request anon, this was pretty fun to write. Hope you enjoyed reading it!

[sibylsleaves]

seven sentence sunday

tagged by @littlespoonevan

this is all i have to offer you because i...may have spent much of my writing time yesterday answering asks about established relationship buddie. but here's more from the next chapter of some things fall:

By the time Eddie’s dropped Chris off at his party and he’s pulling up to Papa’s house, it’s closer to lunchtime than brunch time. But Pepa just greets Eddie with a mug of coffee and a big hug and Eddie takes an extra few seconds in her arms feeling held and grateful. Pepa fixes him a plate of homemade chilaquiles and catches him up on the latest developments in his cousins’ lives.  And then it’s Eddie’s turn, and, well, he’s not got a lot to update her on except the breakup with Marisol. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she says, sipping her coffee. “You didn’t seem surprised.” “Well, that’s because I’m not,” Pepa replies. She sets her coffee cup down. “It took you months to even introduce her to me, and even then it was only by accident that I ran into her on your porch.” Eddie winces. Yeah, that probably should’ve been a sign. “I met Buck quicker than that.” The comment isn’t pointed at all—Eddie doesn’t think. But it still hits him like punch to the chest. “Yeah,” he says, pushing a soggy bit of fried tortilla around on his plate. “Buck.”

tagging @messyhairdiaz @bibibuck @transboybuckley @smallandalmosthonest @onward--upward

@iinryer @devirnis @homerforsure @housewifebuck (I meant to send you an ask this morning about OnlyFans Buck!!!!!!) @glorious-spoon

[builtaworldwithyourlove]

I Forget Where We Were

1.5k/ joel miller x f!reader / MINORS DNI 

summary: life with Joel from the start. Be kind please- this is my first piece and has taken 6 months of courage🤍

Chapter Eight: End Of The Affair

Living without her, living at all, seems to slow me down.

what to expect: Joel cuts Mia off and things are getting intense.

warnings: bad language i guess idk?😂fluff, dad!joel,lover boy joel, no specific physical description of reader, female reader (please let me know if there is anything I’m missing, I will elaborate as the series goes on) no outbreak, age gap (reader is mid 20s and Joel is mid 40s), boyfriend!joel? i repeat boyfriend!joel, angst, another woman but relax guys, Daddy Joel loves you and things will be okay, onwards and upwards, things back on track, mention of smoking and drinking, bathtime naughtiness.

    · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The morning passed in silence, you sat out on the porch reading, and Joel smoked whilst he rubbed your feet.

‘Can you drop me home so I can get ready before we take Sarah out? I’ll drive back over and stay tonight?’ your voice squeaked, far too timid and afraid to be disconcerting.

Joel looked up at you and his cheeks hollowed as he inhaled a drag of smoke. His eyes seemed to glimmer with hope as he held onto the fact you still wanted to come back to him.

He blew the smoke away from your face, and he dragged you onto his lap as you kissed him, breathing in the taste of coffee and tobacco. Your favourite smell in the world, as it reminded you of Joel, who felt like home.

‘Sure, baby. You feeling okay?’ he frowned at you.

‘Yeah, I’m good. I just want to have a reset, and don’t think underwear and your old t shirts are a great start’ the receipt of the joke and lightheartedness was uncertain, but Joel chuckled and your heart skipped a beat.

This may all work out, you thought.

    · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

You got home, and Joel went to pick Sarah up. You showered the events of last night away, and put on a black sundress. You did your hair and makeup and drenched yourself in Joel’s favourite perfume of yours

You texted him to let him know you were stopping off at the shop but you’d be over in 30 minutes.

He sent you a picture of Sarah holding a new princess doll, and he mentioned how she reminded Sarah of you. 

You smiled to yourself and rushed over.

   · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Sarah came flying into your arms and she said she missed you so much. You gave Joel a bottle of red wine and a bag of ingredients for dinner, he kissed your forehead and caressed your waist and hips before putting everything away in the kitchen.

‘Daddy’s got some surprises for us tonight, but he won’t tell us what. He said he has some building to do at Uncle Tommy’s then we’ll find out.’ Sarah shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

‘Hmm…. Why don’t we go and unpack your stuff from your sleepover, and then why don’t we go to the garden store whilst we wait for Daddy to get home?’ You crouched down and tried to negotiate with Sarah. 8 year olds are a tough crowd.

‘Baby, you mind watching Roo for an hour while I help Tommy out?’ Joel shouted from the kitchen.

‘Sure babe. We’ve made some plans of our own anyway.’ Sarah’s face lit up as you winked at her, and she bolted up the stairs.

You kissed Joel goodbye and he gave you some laundry which you offered to do for him. As you cleared out the pockets, you found a receipt for a locksmith and a charge for a spare key, and also a business card for a local realtor. This was bittersweet as it was dated the day after you saw the first text from Mia, and you realised how serious Joel was about you. 

You soon forgot about the discovery and anticipation of receiving a spare key, as Sarah kept you on your toes for the rest of the afternoon.

   · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Joel got home and showered whilst you helped Sarah get ready. Joel said he was going to take you both shopping, ice cream and to the local fair.

Sarah picked out new princess dresses and hair accessories, including bows, just like the ones your wore all the time. She also picked out new sunglasse because she wanted to look grown up in the car like you did. 

Sarah had you all in stitches, and she held your hand the whole way through the shops. You had driven to the mall, you let Sarah have her ice cream in her car seat, which Daddy would never let her do. Joel was exasperated and eventually gave up trying to keep you both in check.

‘Is it time for the fair yet?’ asked Sarah, high on sugar and excitement.

‘Everytime you ask, we end up taking five minutes longer. I don’t make the rules.’ Joel antagonised Sarah and you tried to keep the peace by going the quick way home. Your thigh was on display, and Joel rubbed his thumb up and down it the , whilst you put your hand on top of his.

    · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

It was hometime and Sarah fell asleep in the car, after countless goes on the Ferris Wheel and winning just short of 10 stuffed teddies.

Joel sang cheesy love songs to you, the whole way home, and you couldn’t believe you were loved by someone like him, even with things being rough lately.

He carried Sarah up to bed, and you went into the kitchen to heat a pan for dinner. Joel sat up at the bar and watched you dancing barefoot on the tiled floor. You went to open the wine you brought round, but Joel snatched it off you and replaced it with the one he hid behind his back.

‘Joel, that’s exactly the same. Is everything okay at home?’ Confused, you let Joel finish his bit.

‘Look at it’ Joel offered like a cat dropping a mouse at their owner’s feet.

It was your favourite red wine, with a pink collar and, a piece of string with a key on it, hanging on the neck and a business card paper clipped to the string.

‘Tomorrow we’re buying Sarah a kitten, for the house that you’re moving into, and after we can call the realtor to help you sell your place. I want you here with me for the rest of my life. You& Sarah together make this house a home. I don’t want or need anyone else but my family. I know how shit the last few days have been, but I promise. Mia is nothing. I told her last night I never want to see her again. She knows I’m with you& that’s it. Full transparency from now on.’

A tidal wave of emotions swept you under, then the water carried you back to shore as you tried to process everything. You felt as if  you had over reacted about the text, but Joel knew he was in the wrong for how things panned out. He had done all he could to apologise and knew he now had to prove himself to you. This was the next best step towards showing you his devotion.

Like a baby, you held onto him and cried. You were so excited and so thankful for this, and couldn’t wait for the next step. You added the key to your keyring, put the collar on the keyhook by the front door and saved the realtor’s number in your phone.

    · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Tipsy and full of love, you and Joel slowdanced round the kitchen after dinner, singing along to your songs and sharing a tender moment which would be a core memory for the start of forever.

You tidied up, and Joel sat down to watch the football.

He had stopped and bought you some bath stuff for at his, knowing you only had a shower at your place. You made the most of this and drew a hot bath with bath salts, essential oils and bubbles. Paolo Nutini echoed quietly on the speakers through the candlelight. The door creaked open, and Joel walked in, slowly undressing. He slotted in behind you, and you sat between his legs. He grabbed the bath oils and massaged them into your chest and your legs. You turned on your stomach to face him, and he tenderly, but hungrily, kissed you.

He emptied some of the bathwater out after rinsing you with fresh warm water. You slid down his thighs, now straddling him as he kissed down your chest and grabbed handfuls of your hips, soft and supple from the bath.

You were wet and warm, covered in goosebumps from Joel’s touch, and he was harder than you had seen before. He leaned you back againt his bent legs, and he thrusted into you. The sensation of him hitting your cervix made your eyes roll back, and as you grinded against him, the orgasm waved over you.

Joel struggled to last, so wrapped up in your warm body, and desperate to make you feel good. He held you close and he finished with you tight to him.

‘Ready for film night baby?’ Joel smirked, feeling pretty proud of himself.

‘Only if you can handle it, old man’ You knocked him back down a peg as you finished your skin care and got dressed in your pyjamas.

Another bottle of wine, and half of a 2/10 rated scary movie later, Joel was asleep with his head in your lap, and you were sleeping peacefully, feeling light and lucky and positive.

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[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

A new tradition you introduced to Bucky took a turn you should have, at the very least, expected, but it did not mean you wouldn’t milk it for all of its worth.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ♕ Alpha!Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Omega!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ♕ 785

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ♕ Fluff, crack, implied spice, emphasised height difference

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ♕ Okay, if anyone wants me, I am off dreaming of him.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ♕ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It wasn’t to be said that Bucky, your alpha, didn’t give you what you wanted when you wanted it. 

And, no, you decidedly weren’t spoiled beyond belief. Having grown up frugally — in a class of wealth that made your eyes water at Bucky’s many receipts — made you grateful and even hesitant to accept Bucky’s numerous, frivolous gifts. 

But there was one exception. Christmas. 

The holiday was one of hope for you and you adored the timed and aged traditions; hot cocoa by the fire, films and music playing while baking gingerbread and numerous other sweets. 

While Bucky was a busy man at the head of the mafia — overseeing deals and contracts and things that made your head spin from the sheer level of violence — he always made time to see to you, and to every last one of desires, whether it be festive or not. 

It was how you ended up in this predicament. 

“Did you really have to pick this one?” Bucky asked. The barrelled trunk of the Christmas tree rested over his shoulder — the top of the tree trailed behind him while he walked up the steps of his sprawling mansion. “It’s huge, Bunny, you’re goin’ to need a damned ladder to get to the top.”

“That’s what you’re here for,” you mumbled, none-too-stealthily.

The tree swung to the side as he looked over his shoulder at you, his brow raised in challenge. “Is that so?”

You nodded, a coy smile on your lips. “Yeah, it’s why I have a big, strong alpha.”

Bucky grumbled something under his breath that you blissfully ignored, too intent upon the branches of the Christmas tree. The door to the mansion opened with a chime, and you breathed deeply to take in the spliced scents of happy omega and proud alpha. 

“Where do you want this?” Bucky asked, looking around at you as he walked into the foyer. You pointed towards the living room — the room with the tallest ceiling on this floor, and he started to walk towards the arched entry. 

“Wait,” you squeaked suddenly, and you rushed towards him with a proud smile on your lips. “Wait!” 

He turned to look at you curiously. “What–?” His eyes tracked the movement of your hands towards the fir branches. “Wait– What’re you trying to do, Bunny baby?”

“I want to help,” you said cheerfully, looking into Bucky’s face — his eyes were bright with amusement, and if you squinted, there was a flash of exasperation, too. 

“Bunny– sweetheart,” he laughed, and the corner of his lips pulled upwards in a wide smirk. “Honey, you’re goin’ to hurt yourself. Just let me set it down in the corner and then you can get started and I’ll help, deal?”

You frowned. “But I want to help!” The bristles of the pines tickled your palms as you made your grip more sturdy over the middle of the tree. “I picked it out; I want to help.”

The loose strands of Bucky’s hair fell into his face as he shook it, but he was smiling, endearingly so. “Alright, you can help me, you stubborn Bunny,” he said. Suddenly, he raised a brow in amusement — it was the only warning you received before he spoke again. “But please don’t fuckin’ fall from the damned thing.”

“What do– Whoa!”

Bucky hauled the tree higher up his broad shoulders, and you clung to it for dear life while he walked onwards, your feet dangling precariously above the floor. 

The toes of your shoes made a pitter patter sound over the marble tile when you desperately tried to gain your balance again, and Bucky chuckled, walking into the living room with the tree (with you still hanging from the middle) over his shoulder. 

“Alpha!” you shrieked, your hands slipping from the nestled pines of the tree. “Let me down, oh my god–” The thump of your feet landing on the sturdy, solid ground was heard in tandem with your gasp of relief.

Bucky shrugged the tree off of his shoulder — propping it up in the corner of the expansive living room right next to the entertainment unit. When he turned around, he had a smug, playful grin on his lips, and his eyes were dark with intent. 

“You know how much I love showin’ off for you, Bunny,” he said, and you gulped as he stepped closer. “And I fuckin’ wish it was you over my shoulder—let’s fix that.”

Much, much later, Bucky lifted you from the ground to place ornaments on the tree, pointedly ignoring every last one of your protests with a smirk — it was enough to make you quiet when you imagined just how he used his mouth before to silence your protests.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁