#why has these fandom still not agreed on a name for this pairing?

[mintjamsblog]

Phone call

Tommy/Alfie (+Cyril) drabble

It's gone 2 am when his phone rings, late enough that he knows nothing good'll come of answering. Private number the screen says. He hesitates, and swipes right with one hand pressed over his eyes.

There's silence at the other end, heavy and deliberate. He shouldn't have bloody well picked-up, but since when did shouldn't matter? Teeth clenched, he listens whilst a familiar weight settles itself in his stomach. Slowly he reaches over to mute the black and white war film he's been watching. He's long since lost the plot, having dozed on and off through most of it. Easy enough to guess the ending, they're all the bloody same — victory mixed with grief mixed with a dose of moral high ground. He leans back on the leather sofa to wait.

Beside him, Cyril opens his eyes and raises his chin a little. Alfie shakes his head in response — I know, mate, I fuckin' know. Cyril slumps back down on his paws. It's late, and Alfie's tired, and he ought to hang up right now. Never fucking does though, does he? 

He tucks the phone into his shoulder and laces his hands together, stretching his arms out in front of him until the knuckles crack loudly. 

Over his shoulder, in the kitchen, a little red clock on the oven indicates ten past. He watches the seconds blink, counts them in his head as if he suspects the digital display is trying to cheat him. It isn't. Time ticks by just as slowly as it always bloody does.

"Right then," he says when the minutes have clicked over to eleven. "Time you went out, Cyril."

He puts his phone onto speaker and sets it on the coffee table. There's movement at the other end of the line, a shuffling sound and breaths. Still there then. 

Cyril's reluctant to move from his spot; it's cold outside and he has no desire to leave the warmth of the sofa. Alfie grabs hold of his collar and hauls him over the edge. Cyril moves like a sack of potatoes, waiting until the last bloody second to plant his feet on the rug. One of these days he'll forget to bother and land like a seal on his belly, looking pretty fucking embarrassed.

"Oi," Alfie curses mildly. "Mind me fucking feet!" 

There's another noise from the coffee table. Footsteps, perhaps, the rhythm scuffed and uneven. Alfie takes Cyril to the back door and shoves him into the garden. "That's it, go sniff out some rats. Do yer fuckin' business."

He slides the door closed and peers out, watching Cyril plod towards the shed. As he steps back he catches sight of himself in the door — it's dark inside and out, and so the television flickers both behind him and in front of him, reflected in the black glass. He looks like a ghostly figure trapped between two realms — hair stuck out at all angles, fingers entwined at the back of his head. He really should hang up. Put an end to this fucking charade.

He will. When Cyril comes in.

There's a deep cough and a slurred word from the coffee table. Alfie doesn't turn, he watches the phone screen flicker in the glass, as if seeing it in reverse somehow means he ain't complicit.  

"M'sorry," the phone-voice says, and Alfie closes his eyes, holds his hands briefly over his ears.

"Tommy" —he turns back towards the room— "go the fuck to bed, alright?"

The line goes quiet once more, save for the distinctive slosh of liquid against glass. "I know you don't wanna hear it."

Oh how much Alfie wishes that were true. He squats in front of the little screen, rests his head in his hands. How many nights has he spent searching for an explanation he could stomach? Bargaining with unknown gods for Tommy to deliver anything close to a palatable excuse? He listens to Tommy swallow. His heart feels like a butterfly being squashed by a giant fist.

"S'true. I'm so fucking sorry. If I could just ... if I could go back, Alfie—"

Alfie stands too suddenly. Strides away, black spots speckling his vision. He wrenches open the back door. "Cyril!" he bellows into the night. "Get your arse back in here." His skin feels hot in the gush of cool air. His pulse unaccountably fast. He slams the door and locks it, ushering Cyril towards the stairs. "Bed!" he barks at the dog. Cyril makes his way out to the hall, obedient in the way he only is when he likes the order.

The phone remains silent as Alfie checks the kitchen window, locks the front door, turns off the TV. He glares at the coffee table, willing Tommy to speak. Or not to speak. He doesn't fucking know. He picks the phone up, thumb hovering over the power button. It's a simple enough fucking thing: switch it off, go to bed.

"Don't go." Tommy's voice is a whisper, so quiet it makes Alfie jump.

"Go to sleep, Tommy," he sighs and takes the phone upstairs. Cyril has already settled down at the foot of his bed, in the dark.

"Can't," comes Tommy's voice, thick and tired and undercut with that little thread of defiance that Alfie's too weary to deal with. 

"Well some of us have to, mate." He puts the phone on his bedside without turning on the lamp — the shroud of darkness makes all of this somehow more deniable. He pulls off his clothes and shuffles beneath the duvet, the silence hammering at his ears.

"Good night." He means to sound final, but his voice is too soft, too quiet.

"Leave your phone on."

"Tommy. This has got to stop."

"Please."

"Why do you only ring me when you're out of your fucking tree?" He doesn't expect an answer. Doesn't get one neither.

"Please. Alfie."

"Fuck's sake. Five minutes, alright?" He turns over, closes his eyes. 

Next thing he knows, it's light and there's a sick feeling in his stomach. He reaches out for his phone; the screen is black, the battery dead. He tucks it under his chin.

At the bottom of the bed Cyril huffs and rolls over, but refuses to take his usual spot on the other pillow. He peers up at Alfie with a disapproving look.

"I know, mate." Alfie sighs. "I fuckin' know, alright?"

Or read it on A03

[lxkeee]

⋆.˚ . FLY ME TO THE MOON ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚.

—PART FOUR

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Archangel Raphael! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Notes: finally, a divorced man meets a divorced woman.

PART ONE | PART THREE | PART FIVE | MISC.

Nothing too interesting happened for the last couple of months, work on earth, do paperwork in heaven, repeat.

Scratch that, something did happen.

[Y/n] looked at her hand, seeing the gold band that was usually on her ring finger was now placed on her middle finger. A symbol of individuality and responsibility. She and Azrael finally got divorced—for shits and giggles. Just kidding. Azrael found love that's why and he and [y/n] it was time to end this marriage of theirs and remain friends. Azrael is now dating this cute principality angel named Francis. She supports them. She even set them up lmao.

They still continue doing their usual routine of spending their free time in each other's places (more on spending time at her home) and gossip.

She has to find her own love someday. [Y/n] sighs softly. Eyes staring outside her office window.

Today is the extermination day. She hopes Adam fucks up during it.

It was rather boring for the rest of the day. She was just flying around heaven and seeing if the order was maintained. [Y/n]'s eyes widened when she saw Emily showing someone around heaven. Someone familiar.

That's right! She saw this snake man during the meeting when Charlie was showing about Angel's progress.

He looks different though.

Her eyes widened, realization dawning upon her.

He got redeemed.

Blinking her eyes, eyes sparkling in excitement.

She calms herself down first, she needs to confirm it.

Flying next to Emily, the girl slightly jumps in surprise to see [y/n]. Despite the woman being one of god's seven virtues, Emily sees her as an older sister figure.

“Hi [y/n]! Nice to see you here, it has been awhile since I've last seen you!” Emily says excitedly, eyes sparkling and wings flapping from excitement from seeing the older woman. The man beside her just looked in confusion.

“Hello Emi, dear. I just so happen to have some free time so I was just flying around. Is this a new soul you're showing around?” [y/n] asked, smiling softly at the girl and the girl squealed.

“Yes! Actually, this man right here. Was a sinner and got redeemed! Isn't that amazing!” Emily says and [y/n]'s eyes widened and smiled, smirking a bit before returning it to a genuine smile. The confused snake just staring back and forth between the two girls.

“Really? Now, isn't that surprising. This... This changes everything.” [y/n] says with a whisper before turning to look at the redeemed soul.

“Tell me, mister. What is your name? As one of the seven virtues, I would like to know the name of the first sinner ever to be redeemed.” [y/n] says curtly and bows at him gracefully.

“I am Sssir Pentiousss... It is a pleassure to meet you... Misss?” Sir Pentious greeted, though a little awkward but cute.

“Greetings Sir Pentious, I am Raphael. An archangel and one of God's seven virtues. But you can call me [y/n].” [y/n] says with a small smile, offering her hand for a handshake which Sir Pentious accepted.

[Y/n] looked at her watch that's on her wrist, pretended to look worried. “As much as I want to stay and chat. I have somewhere else to be. Emily, Sir Pentious. It was nice seeing you two.” [y/n] says frantically, although just pretending.

Emily nodded and tried to calm the panicking archangel, “It's alright Miss [y/n], we can catch up later.” she says and [y/n] smiles and places a gentle kiss on the girl's forehead.

“Alright, have fun. And Sir Pentious?” [y/n] calls out to the man and he looks at her with confusion. “Welcome to heaven, I hope you'll enjoy your stay.” she says and quickly waves goodbye and flies away.

A meeting was then held with the seven virtues, they discussed what they should do next now that Charlotte Morningstar's hotel has worked. They agreed to put Sera on a trial but won't punish her severely like Lucifer.

“Adam's dead?” Camuel asked, shocked and [y/n] nodded.

“Apparently. Based on the exorcists' reports. Manz gone.” [y/n] says with a shrug and a lazy smirk.

“Finally!” Azrael laughs, the others just smirking.

“Good riddance.” Michael says calmly though a slight smirk on his face.

“What's our next course of action?” Gabriel asked, crossing her arms.

“Since this hotel the Morningstars are offering seems to work then there's only one thing we can do next.” Uriel says, sighing.

“Can't believe it actually worked. I guess we were wrong on how we treated Lucifer.” Camuel says and the others just shrug and sigh.

“We support this. We'll have to make sure this hotel keeps on working.” Jophiel says.

“[y/n].” Michael calls out and [y/n] can already tell where this is going.

“No.” she deadpans and Michael deadpans at her in return.

“What do you mean no? I haven't even asked yet.” Michael deadpans, Azrael chuckling beside [y/n].

“I just have a feeling I won't like it.” [y/n] says with a frown on her face.

“Too bad, you're doing it anyways. I want you to go down there and make sure to keep track of the hotel's progress.” Michael says sternly making [y/n] whine, she drops her head onto the circular table they were all sitting in. Groaning.

“More work? I don't wanna.” she says with a groan. Gabriel laughs.

“This can be an opportunity to get closure with you know who?” Uriel says with a chuckle.

“The fuck is closure? I don't need it.” [y/n] says, rolling her eyes.

“I think this is your chance [n/n]. I heard he's divorced lmao.” Jophiel cackles, [y/n] groaning once more.

“You two are going to be matching or twinsies!” Azrael teases making [y/n] glare at him playfully.

“Jokes aside. You need this [y/n]. Get some closure. We want you to be happy for once and I don't think we can handle more years of you feeling guilty for being so cold during the last time you saw him.” Camuel says softly, giving the girl a thumbs up.

“I better get extra day offs for this.” [y/n] says with a groan.

“Deal.” Michael says and [y/n] sighs.

It was a few weeks after the extermination that was targeted at the hotel. The hotel has been rebuilt and now looks even better than before. Charlie is happy that she and her friends managed to stop the extermination. There are some new sinners who wanted to give redemption a try so now the hotel is now bustling slightly. Her dad moved in and has a room of his own and helps her manage the hotel.

Currently, the crew are in the lobby just talking. It was already late in the evening and the other guests are now sleeping. Angel, Lucifer, and Husk were at the bar area. Niffty was cleaning, Vaggie and Alastor were on the couch.

Knock, knock, knock.

Loud knocks were heard on the front door of the hotel.

“New guests perhaps?” Alastor says with a grin, Charlie grins excitedly. A new soul wanting to try redemption.

The others just watched the girl walked towards the door, curious who was behind it.

Charlie took a deep breath, preparing herself to greet the new guest.

Opening the door, it was someone she did not expect.

A tall woman (almost the same height as Alastor) was standing by the door, a serious look on her face. What caught her attention was the amount of authority and power emitting from her and... The golden halo on her head and the small angel wings behind her head.

“Good evening Charlotte Morningstar, I came as a messenger from heaven.” the angel says with a grin.

Lucifer's body went pale as he heard that oh so familiar voice.

“[y/n]...” Lucifer murmurs in disbelief, seeing his supposed best friend now in front of the door.

“It has been awhile, Lucifer.” [y/n] says softly, eyes still emotionless. She's actually just dissociating so her eyes are like that, she can't control it okay. She has a serious case of lazy eyes.

“Ooohh drama...” Angel Dust whispers to Husk.

Suddenly an angelic spear was pointed at her throat, she did not flinch nor was afraid. She merely used her finger to move it away.

“What are you doing here?” the gray haired girl asked, glaring at her. [Y/n] just looked down on her with a smile on her face.

“I am just here to deliver a message. The seven virtues would like to support this hotel!” She says with a grin, Lucifer looked at her suspiciously.

Why wouldn't he? The seven virtues didn't listen to him before. So why now?

“Why now? Why did the seven decide to support this hotel just now?” Lucifer glares.

[Y/n] clapped her hands, Lucifer's eyes landing on the wedding band on her middle finger. It's no longer in her ring finger.

Alastor noticed the way the king of hell looked at the newly appeared angel with so much longing in his eyes. Interesting... Alastor grins.

“First and foremost, heaven apologizes for the yearly cleansing. It was a decision Sera, the high seraphim decided without informing us. We do not condone her actions and she would be faced in a trial.” [y/n] says nonchalantly, putting her hands on her pocket.

Lucifer flinches, he didn't know the decision was Sera's alone.

“Secondly, the hotel works.” [y/n] says with a grin.

This made the others look at her with confusion.

“A certain serpent sinner was redeemed. Ironic as the first one to doom humanity was a serpent and the first one to give humanity hope for redemption is also a serpent.” [y/n] laughs softly, Lucifer's eye twitched.

[Y/n]'s words sparked even more confusion with the others.

“Serpent?” Angel Dust asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Someone who goes by Sir Pentious is now in heaven. Based on my records, he was a sinner before.” [y/n] says, shrugging.

Their eyes widened at the news. Sir Pentious is alive!

“How can we be so sure you're not lying?” Husk asked, raising an eyebrow at the woman. [Y/n] just chuckles.

“It is up to you if you believe it or not, after all... Angels never lie.” she says with a grin, summoning a small notebook from thin air, flipping through the pages of the notebook to scan for her notes.

“Lastly, I will be helping with the hotel during my scheduled time here. I'll be keeping track of the soul's progress here and research how a soul actually goes to heaven as Sir Pentious' case is a rare one and the first one so... We have no data. Heaven hopes to find more info about this case.” [y/n] explained, “I hope we'll get along.” she says with a grin.

Charlie's eyes widened, progress. Her hotel is making progress. Heaven is slowly helping her.

“Excuse me, Miss...?” Charlie softly calls, not knowing the angel's name.

[Y/n] looked at the smaller girl, patting the girl's head.

“My name is [y/n], also known as the archangel Raphael. One of God's seven virtues. It is a pleasure to finally meet you officially, Ms. Morningstar.” [y/n] introduces herself gracefully. Lucifer is still in awe in how fast she climbed the ranks.

Charlie nodded, finally happy to know the woman.

“Is there a way for us to visit Sir Pentious?” she asked hopefully, the others leaning in and hoping the same thing. [Y/n] closes her notebook, a loud sound sounding from it.

“I am sorry, heaven currently doesn't accept visitation unless necessary. Although, I can send letters back and forth whenever I visit.” She suggested, Charlie's eyes saddened but returned to hopeful. At least they know Sir Pentious is still alive.

“That would be all. I'll see you next time on my visit to keep track of the progress. Until then.” [y/n] says softly bowing at them. Turning her back and slowly walked away from the door.

Stopping, she didn't turn around to face them again.

“And Lucifer...?” she says, hesitating but her voice is vulnerable. Lucifer's breath hitched and the others just looked at the scene with curiosity. It is obvious these two knew each other based on how they already know each when she first arrived. They can practically sense the tension.

“I was wrong and I am sorry.” she says softly. Summoning her three pairs of wings, large and majestic.

She has wings now... Lucifer thought. His eyes softened when he heard her apologize.

“Wait... [Y/n]—” He called out but she didn't listen.

[Y/n] quickly flies away, a portal opening for her and closes after she enters.

“Did anyone else notice the tension...?” Angel asked, voicing out everyone's thoughts, a smirk on his face. Angel didn't mention that he really felt the unspoken romantic tension between the two angelic beings. He's getting more tea.

“This is getting interesting.” Alastor says with a grin and Lucifer knows that the radio demon just found more ways to torment him.

End notes: I know some of you read Alastor's line in Zhongli or Childe's voice lmao. And yes, Azrael and reader divorced each other. I had to ship Azrael with my oc okayy, I need Azrael to have some love 💀

TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata

[fluentmoviequoter]

My Shy Valentine

Requested Here!

My Shy Valentine Series Masterlist

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!fem!reader

Summary: As Valentine's Day approaches, Tim's coworkers don't believe he has a girlfriend. She's too shy to be introduced conventionally, but when they catch him hugging someone at the station, the truth comes out.

Warnings: fluff! a repeated mouth-to-mouth joke, this has build-up to Valentine's Day.

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

“Can you take this to the K-9 captain?” Angela asks, extending a paper toward Tim.

“Do I look like your secretary?” he replies.

“No, you look like an errand boy.”

Tim rolls his eyes at Angela’s smile. He should be used to it by now, but she never fails to surprise and push him to the brink of snapping. She’s also one of his closest friends, so he powers through her nosiness and sarcastic comments.

“Fine, but only because I was going that way before you asked,” he answers, taking the paper.

“Sure. Thanks, Timothy.”

As Tim walks into the K-9-unit training area, he looks around for the captain but finds something more interesting to focus on. Across the turf obstacle course, you are talking to a K-9 officer, Hughie, as everyone in the station refers to him. Tim finds himself drawn to you for some unexplained reason.

“Bradford,” the captain calls. “Finally realize we’re the best?”

“No, sir, I’m happy in Metro,” Tim answers. “Dropping this off for Detective Lopez.”

The captain nods as he takes the paper, noticing Tim’s gaze drift back to you.

“Who’s that?” Tim asks.

“Hughie,” the captain answers before quickly realizing his mistake, exclaiming, “Oh!” before telling Tim your name. He adds that you are Hughie’s best friend, and you come to visit often. 

You raise your head, meeting Tim’s eyes for a second before you look away quickly. Tim thinks he could get used to being looked at by you, and the idea startles him.

✯✯✯✯✯

Looking away from the attractive officer quickly, you focus on your best friend, Hughie. He seems to notice something has brought out your shyness, glancing across the obstacle course before chuckling.

“That’s Bradford, he’s Metro. And, between you and me, grumpy and overbearing.”

You nod, knowing that it’s supposed to be a warning, yet you find yourself more intrigued by the knowledge that there’s more than meets the eye.

“Excuse me,” Bradford says, walking up behind you. “Hughie, I wanted to let you know that Kojo is still addicted to those treats you introduced him too.”

Hughie laughs and you watch Bradford smile as he turns to you. Hughie introduces you, supplying you with Tim Bradford’s full name. You extend your hand, hoping it’s not sweaty, clammy, or any other word ending with -y as you shake his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your knuckles as you pull your hand away.

Remembering Hughie’s warning, you think Tim is everything but grumpy and overpowering as he introduces himself. Tim, however, immediately catches onto how shy you are, and his smile grows when you clench the hand he just shook into a fist while you look at Hughie’s dog.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim waits outside the K-9 unit, hoping that he doesn’t come across as creepy or find out that he misread your reactions as he waits for you.

“Hey,” he calls when you walk out.

You jump, startled at the sudden attention.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, with a smile that doesn’t seem sorry to you. “I didn’t mean to bombard you, but I wanted to ask you something without Hughie standing right beside you.”

Furrowing your brows, you wonder what he could want to know that couldn’t be discussed in front of your best friend.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me? We can do whatever you want,” Tim offers.

After a moment of silence, Tim’s smile falls, and you whisper, “Why me?”

“That’s usually my line,” he jokes, easing your nerves slightly.

You nod, agreeing to a date and hoping you can survive a night with a gorgeous man like Tim.

✯✯✯✯✯

Survival is not an option, it turns out. From the moment Tim picks you up with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, he seems determined to embarrass you and make you hide from him.

“Have I mentioned how gorgeous you are?” Tim asks.

You raise your napkin to your face, ducking behind it and hoping you can stay hidden until Tim is ready to leave, but he pulls it away from your face with a lie about being sorry.

Though he makes you so shy you can’t speak to him, you and Tim both fall quickly and within a few weeks of meeting him, you’re completely under his spell.

✯✯✯✯✯

Visiting Hughie, he asks what you see in Bradford, and you can only raise one shoulder to your cheek. There isn’t enough time to list everything you love about Tim, but you also think Hughie wouldn’t get it.

“As long as he treats you well, it’s your decision,” Hughie decides.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his waist as he chuckles. His dog barks as he returns your hug.

“Do you want to go see Tim?” Hughie asks.

“No,” you answer quickly. “Not while he’s working and there’s so many people.”

“You visit me in front of other people while I’m working,” Hughie argues.

“I don’t have a massive crush on you,” you mumble.

“No, you’re just a terrible friend who made the ‘Hughie’ nickname stick.”

“Sorry,” you say with a pout, spreading your arms for another hug.

“I suppose you’re forgiven; not much I can do about it now.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Who are you watching the Super Bowl with?” Nolan asks. “Bailey and I are having a little get together if you want to stop by.”

“I’m having a few buddies over, and my girlfriend is coming, but thanks for the offer,” Tim answers distractedly.

Angela, Grey, and Nyla stand nearby and rush to stop him. “Girlfriend?” they repeat.

Wondering what is wrong with them and why they’re reacting so strangely, Tim nods with his brows pinched. They all start talking over one another, and Tim only catches pieces of what they’re saying.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Wade says.

“There’s no way… did you drug her?” Nyla accuses.

“Who would…” Nolan begins, trailing off as Tim raises a hand to stop them.

“Really?” he asks. “It’s that hard to believe?”

They nod, and Angela speaks for everyone in the station when she says, “You just don’t really act like the girlfriend type these days.”

Tim rolls his eyes, glancing toward the K-9 unit and considering calling you or Hughie to tell them you’re real, but it’s not worth the trouble. They’ll find another reason not to believe him.

“I’m with Wade,” Nyla agrees. “Until I see her, I’m calling bull.”

“Hate to say I agree, but…” Nolan shrugs.

“You are terrible people,” Tim concludes as he walks away.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim waits outside your job, already smiling as he plans to make you shy away from him. When you step out, grinning while you approach him, he begins his assault of compliments, holding your wrists away from your face so he can see your eyes.

“You make it so easy,” he teases, kissing your nose.

“You’re just mean. You know I can’t take it,” you argue.

“That’s what makes it so fun.”

You huff, and Tim laughs as he moves his hand to your back to help you into the passenger seat of his truck.

“I do love you, though, I just like to show it-“

“In unexpected ways,” you finish, nodding sarcastically. “You’re going to kill me one of these days. I won’t be able to take it, and I’ll just keel over in your arms.”

“Like I’d let you,” Tim argues. “Mouth-to-mouth exists for a reason, baby.”

You turn away, the idea pulling your fight out of you as Tim chuckles.

“You’re not like this with anyone else,” you say quietly.

“Because you’re the only one of you.”

Once Tim lets you into his house, he notices you’re staring at his waist. He’s seen you hug Hughie and had the joy of initiating hugs himself, so he knows that is what you want. You always go for the waist when hugging but never seem willing to initiate contact with him.

Tim spreads his arms, and you rush forward to grip his waist tightly, relaxing against him as his arms circle your shoulders, rubbing comforting circles on your back.

“You can just hug me, you know that, right?” he asks kindly.

“What if you don’t want one right then?” you reply, your voice muffled against his chest.

“I always want one from you.”

Your grip tightens as you press your face further into his chest; with Valentine’s Day just around the corner, Tim takes his opportunity to get sappy and push you. He pulls back slowly, cupping your face between his hands.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he begins, punctuating his compliment with a kiss. “And the best hugger.” Another kiss. “Even when you get shy and try to run away from me.”

You duck your chin, and Tim brushes his fingers over your cheek to raise your head back toward him. Each compliment and touch from him makes you putty in his hands, and Tim chuckles as he drops his head, kissing you as you cling to him.

✯✯✯✯✯

On Valentine’s Day, you wake up with a smile, excited to share your love with the people closest to you as you anticipate Tim’s surprise. He’s been talking about it for weeks, and every time you ask for a hint, he distracts you with a compliment or by staring at your face, causing you to squirm before looking away from him.

Your first stop is the police station, a small gift for Hughie and his wife tucked in your bag as you carry an oversized cardboard heart filled with treats.

“What on earth is that?” Hughie asks.

“This is for my best friend,” you answer, setting it down on the floor and removing the lid to reveal an assortment of gourmet dog treats.

 “You get a boyfriend and everything changes,” Hughie sighs, smiling as he pulls you into a side hug.

“And this is for you and Mrs. Hughie,” you add, passing him the gift bag covered in hearts.

“She’ll love that nickname,” Hughie jokes. “But thank you for thinking of us.”

“Any big plans?”

“We’re going out this weekend; too busy for us married folks to go out on Valentine’s Day. But what about the new lovebirds?”

“Tim has a surprise, but he won’t tell me anything.”

“Well… you could always go surprise him right now,” Hughie suggests, smiling.

“I don’t know,” you say slowly, glancing toward the door.

“Live a little,” Hughie adds.

You nod, telling him you’ll come to see him again before you leave. Taking a deep breath, you enter the station and set out to find Tim.

He sees you first, and when you look up, he winks at you. Raising your shoulder toward your cheek to hide your embarrassment, you walk toward him when he gestures you over. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, smiling at you.

You shrug. “Came to see Hughie.”

“Not me?”

When you shrug again, Tim takes pity on you and whispers, “Sorry. Whenever you want.”

You take his offer, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around his waist and his move over your shoulders. He tells you that you look beautiful, and you tighten your arms around him.

“Can’t breathe,” he pants dramatically.

Believing him, or something close to it, you begin to pull away, but Tim catches your waist and adds, “No better way to go, though.”

“Stop,” you beg.

Tim smiles, and you know that asking him to stop usually spurs him on to continue.

Nolan, Angela, Nyla, and Wade stand nearby, their eyes wide and jaws dropped as Tim openly shows you affection, smiling as you hide against his chest.

“Who’s that? Another sister?” Aaron asks as he walks in.

“Girlfriend,” Angela and Wade say together.

“Girlfriend?!” Aaron exclaims, his expression matching theirs.

You and Tim look over, and when you see how much attention is on you, you turn back around and hide against Tim again.

“They want to meet you,” Tim tells you.

Shaking your head, you decline.

“They’re nice.”

You shake your head again, but Tim spreads his hand over your back and leads you toward them. Waving shyly as Tim makes introductions, you stay as close to his side as possible. 

Nolan opens his mouth to speak, but Tim sends him a warning look, and he closes his mouth to reconsider. “Any Valentine’s Day plans?” he asks.

You stiffen beside Tim, and he answers, “That’s enough,” before steering you away.

“Way to go, Nolan!” Nyla says. “We had them.”

“It was just a question!” he defends.

“She’s shy, can’t you see that?” Angela adds.

“Next time, leave Nolan in the car,” Wade says, shaking his head as he returns to his office.

✯✯✯✯✯

In the safety of Tim’s office, you pull a gift box from your bag and pass it to Tim.

“It’s not much,” you begin.

“It’s perfect,” Tim says, setting it on his desk before cupping your cheeks. “Much like you.”

You turn into one of his hands, but he pulls you into a kiss before you can hide completely.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says against your lips.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you repeat.

When he pulls back, smiling as your eyes linger on his lips before dropping to his waist, you feel emboldened by his words and actions.

“I love you,” you say quietly.

You don’t have time to get embarrassed at your first confession before you’re back in Tim’s arms: the only place you get shy but don’t mind.

✯✯✯✯✯

"I thought you had a surprise for Valentine's Day."

Tim's brows raise as he asks, "Have a little faith in me, would you?"

You smile, taking his hand as he leads you onto his porch. When he opens the door, you see the floor is covered in rose petals and battery-powered candles cover the living room and kitchen.

"Tim," you breathe out.

He repeats your name in a matching tone.

"This is too much."

"It's not enough for you."

"I-I think I'm ready to meet your friends whenever you are."

Tim nods, pulling you close and tapping his nose against your temple when you find your spot, with your arms around his waist.

"It's up to you, but I'll be there the whole time."

"I love you, Tim. Thank you for being patient with me, even though you drive me crazy sometimes."

Tim laughs, leaning his head back. "I drive you crazy? Imagine what you do to me."

You lean against him, looking at the large bouquet and red gift bag on the table.

"I love you," he replies.

"You really did do too much."

"You would keep me from celebrating the woman I love?" Tim asks dramatically. "Maybe I will be the one who needs mouth-to-mouth."

You step back, moving toward the table, and Tim grabs your hips, following you with more whispered compliments.

"I'm glad I came to the station that day," you tell him, leaning against his chest.

"Don't tell Angela which day it was when you meet her, she'll take the credit for us getting together."

"Which I still don't understand."

"Usually my line," Tim repeats.

You turn in his hold, cupping his jaw as you rise and kiss him.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day, my shy little valentine."

Your groan is met with kisses and far too many gifts, but Tim takes your shyness in stride and treats it like one of your assets rather than a problem. He loves you, and you love him, even when he makes you feel like you need mouth-to-mouth.

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 3657 Tags: comedy, attempted comedy, comedy devolving into feels, identity reveal, sex worker Hob Gadling, advancing my Men In Lingerie agenda, long-haired Hob Gadling agenda, stretching timelines like taffy, Desire and Dream get along AU, but Desire is not actively in this, Dead Boy Detectives comic spoilers mentioned, miscommunication, Dream of the Endless finally uses his words, happy ending

Notes: Kudos props and huge thanks to everyone in the Mr Sadman discord who creatively interpreted a snippet I posted of something else and launched the whole idea of Hob working for a supernatural escort service; this would not exist without y'all and your beautiful brainstorming. ❤️

This fills the August monthly @dreamlingbingo prompt Identity Reveal, replacing square A2 (creature: Veela) on my bingo card

Summary: Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

On AO3

~ "Your client is Dream of the Endless. He is extremely ancient and extremely powerful, an underpinning concept of the universe. Absolutely terrible about loosening up and letting himself relax."

"Don't think I'd be much good at relaxing if I was an underpinning concept of the universe either," Hob jokes, opening the profile that the Agency rep has just airdropped to his phone and thumbing through it.

The rep, a foppish vampire with curly white hair and impeccable fashion sense, arches one elegant eyebrow at him. "Apparently his most recent girlfriend dumped him quite harshly and his sibling has arranged this booking on his behalf; he's—and I am quoting here—'absolutely incompetent at managing his own happiness'."

"He knows he's been booked though, right? I'm not gonna catch the fallout because no one told him what kind of appointment this is?" It's only happened once, a prank played on a shy ace nixie by her well-meaning but ill-informed friends; all the same, Hob does not care to repeat the experience—particularly with someone potentially more dangerous.

"He is very much aware and in agreement, yes. We promised him our top companion." The rep dimples at Hob, a smile of saccharine sincerity that shows only the barest hint of fang. "And that's you, sweet Nick."

"And that's me," Hob agrees matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone, then turning it to show his guest. "No photo?"

The rep glances at the screen and makes a commiserative noise. "Oh, yes. Unfortunate, that. Cameras have a very hard time with this fellow, something to do with his general relationship to reality." His tone takes on a simpering air of great melodrama. "We were forced to use an artist's rendition instead! Tragic, really; it doesn't do him justice."

"Huh," Hob says, turning his phone back and studying the cartoony hand-drawn image. Guy looks like he's got some sort of steampunk insect for a head, dark and bolt-laden and bug-eyed, with a trunk that's strongly reminiscent of a disembodied spine. "Dream of the Endless, you said? Looks more like a bloody nightmare."

The rep gives an exaggerated roll of his shoulders, as if shrugging off his delivery duty now that it's done, and turns to leave. "Well whatever the case, an Endless is far above the average client, darling. Give him your best."

"'Course." Hob grins. "That's why you brought the assignment to me, after all."

"Just so." The Agency rep gives a lazy wave in parting and Hob closes the door, still scrolling through the profile as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Dozens of titles and names", he murmurs, glancing through the list of them. "King of Dreams and Nightmares, alright. Contains the entire collective unconscious of every living being in. Every…universe…?" He shakes his head. "Has never taken a vacation ever. Bested Lucifer Morningstar and oversaw the reassignment of Hell—okay, wow. Billions of years old." He whistles, a long sound of awed disbelief. "Maybe I throw in a free massage for this guy; sounds like he could use it."

He shakes his head again, pockets his phone, carries on with getting breakfast together.

Bug-headed workaholic foundational concept of the universe. Won't be the weirdest client he's ever serviced.

~

It's been ten years since his stranger showed up late for their meeting and smiled so openly and named him friend. That had been their longest meeting yet, lasting all afternoon and on into the evening and it wasn't until the Inn had started closing up for the night that they wound down. His stranger had spoken briefly of the missed appointment in 1989, making clear that something at least mildly traumatic had kept him away and also that he did not wish to elaborate, and Hob had let it go. There was so much to tell of his own century past, his friend remarking with interest on a great many of his stories, and it was enough. His stranger, his friend, had come back, and they'd had a lovely long meeting. Perhaps in 2089 he would be comfortable sharing more of his own story, but even if not, Hob didn't mind. He was confident once more in the friendship he'd declared back in 1889 and willing to coax it out bit by bit, meeting by meeting. He had all the time in the world, after all.

Within a year of that meeting he'd wrapped up his teaching career, arranged for ownership of the New Inn to transfer to a 'relative' in the States who'd keep it running the next few decades, and started searching for a new career for his next identity.

He stumbled quite by accident into the broader supernatural world after being stalked by two dead teenagers helping that de Rais creep who wanted to steal his immortality. It all turned out fine in the end but opened Hob's eyes to exactly how much the supernatural had integrated into the modern world around him. And once old Hettie clued him in to the existence of a certain Service Agency catering to supernatural clients, his next career path was all but decided. What was he going to do, not seize the opportunity for fantastical sexual exploration when presented with it? Life was for living! Werewolves, vampires, sirens and fae and merfolk, the occasional ghost and even an extra-terrestrial or two; scales, feathers, tentacles, knots—Hob's shown them all a good time and earned a stellar reputation among the Agency's clientele. He doesn't plan to do it forever, but he enjoys exploring new avenues and stretching his limits and 'Nick Bottom' is the perfect persona to let him do so.

And now sweet high-priced in-demand Nick has been booked to rebound-fuck an uptight concept in humanoid form who looks like something straight out of a nightmare.

Hob can't wait to completely take this guy apart one orgasm at a time until he's a boneless puddle of satiation and send him home afterwards a brand new man.

Concept. Entity. Whatever.

~

The booking is scheduled for the following day and when the time comes, Hob is fresh and clean and set up in the Agency's most lavish suite. He's let his hair grow the last few years, sports a proper Hozier-like mane at this point, is wearing it down for this appointment. His beard is several weeks old, trimmed to artfully-scruffy perfection and well-groomed. He's lounging on the bed in a short open silk robe and a pair of lace panties that hug his hips and leave most of both arse cheeks exposed, a popular outfit in his repertoire sure to please the classiest of clients with the most discerning taste. Both pieces are a matching vibrant cobalt blue that complements his skin tone beautifully. He's wondering what fucking a concept is like, idly massaging his dick now and then to keep it primed, when finally there's a peculiar displacement of air and then a figure in dark robes with a weird spine-trunked bug-eyed head is standing in the middle of the suite. He's taller than Hob and inhumanly rail-thin; the robes plunge deep from the neckline, displaying milk-white skin without a hint of chest hair and clavicles that beg to be nibbled on. He's in profile, angled slightly away, and Hob has the distinct sense that this is a deliberate pose meant to make an impression, to instill awe and possibly fear in him.

So Dream of the Endless has a flair for drama, got it.

"Hello," Hob greets in his best breathless-and-sultry tone, rising from the bed to approach his client. He layers in a suitable amount of awe, pitching his voice toward 'smitten' with a subtle ring of sincerity to support it. "Oh, wow. You must be Dream of the Endless; I'm so delighted to get to meet you! I'll be taking care of you today; you can call me Nick."

The guy, the concept, Dream of the Endless, he goes stock-still as Hob speaks, and it's like the air in the room pauses with him. He turns, slowly, until Hob is face to face with his…oh, possibly that's a mask, then; the bug-eyed lenses are somewhat translucent in the light though Hob still can't see beneath them.

"There has been some mistake." The voice is deep and distorted through the helmet-mask, bone-rattling in an almost-pleasant way and, somehow, somewhat…familiar? "I was meant to be meeting with 'Nick Bottom'." The quotes around the name are audible.

"That's me!" Hob says, raking a hand back through his hair and shaking it to settle around his shoulders attractively, flashing his most charming smile. "At your service, love, whatever you need. I'm here to make sure you have a very good time, and—"

"Hob Gadling."

That draws him up short. He's currently Robyn Gadrin for tax-paying purposes in the outside world, but the Agency wouldn't give out his current identity let alone his true name, so how—

Hob's brain is babbling insistently about the note of familiarity in that voice and he finally lights on why as Dream of the Endless reaches up to remove his helmet.

Hob finds himself staring at the slightly-more-than-human-but-still-very-familiar face of his Stranger, his centennial touchstone, his friend.

Everything about his reality tips a little bit sideways, dominoes crashing one after the other in his brain until all that's left is that awful ringing alarm tone that features in emergency broadcast alerts on American telly.

Between them, the silence stretches awkwardly, until finally Hob breaks it, the first thing that comes to his tongue spilling out while his poor brain is still rebooting.

"Six-hundred some-odd bloody years, and this is how I learn your name?!"

~

It is five minutes later. Hob is sitting on the side of the plush bed in his short silk robe and lace panties, clutching a bottled water and seriously considering availing himself of the bar in the next room because his emotions are all over the place. His Stranger—Dream of the Endless, apparently—is seated next to him. His eyes are not the blue that Hob is used to, are fully black with actual stars winking in and out of them; it's gorgeous but uncanny. He's currently not looking at Hob, has got the weird bug-spine helmet gripped tightly in both hands. Which are still so pretty, Hob can't help noticing, his fingers longer and more spindly than normal, splayed wide around the curve of the helm, nails painted black. Or maybe not painted, maybe they just are black.

Pretty, regardless.

Not a helpful thought at this juncture.

It's not like he'd thought his Stranger was actually human, obviously, and okay yes the possibility of meeting up with him via this particular career choice had crossed his mind once or twice, might've featured in a private fantasy or two; but also he'd never seriously imagined it because it felt so entirely implausible that his prim and lofty Stranger would ever engage in something so mundane. So casual.

Apparently, Hob was wrong about that.

He's not sure how to feel about it, either.

The smooth inhumanly-pale chest on display in the plunging vee of those artfully-draped robes is also not helping anything.

His Stranger—Dream— moves slightly, glances at him with those starry eyes, flexes those pretty fingers on the helmet. "I will. Arrange. For another. To take your place, Hob, you need not—"

"Now hold on a minute," Hob interrupts, sudden direction presenting itself for his floundering emotions to flow. "What do you mean, 'arrange for another'? What's wrong with me?"

Dream, his name is Dream of the Endless, Dream looks perplexed. "Our. History—"

"Oh yes, our illustrious storied history wherein we have met all of seven times before now and, may I remind you, you took offense to my suggestion that we might be friends until you'd had time to digest it properly, yes."

"Eight."

"Eight?"

"I visited your dream, before undertaking a daunting journey from my realm to another. We shared wine. You gave a most thoughtful toast."

"I. Okay." He remembers that dream, yes; he remembers the wine that followed him out of it, and now with the knowledge that his Stranger is apparently King of all dreams and nightmares suddenly it all makes brand new sense. But he will process that later. "Eight. Still not a factor in my ability to do my job."

Mostly. It is his Stranger, after all, and it's not like he hasn't ever wanted—

"Sex would be. Awkward," Dream insists, and Hob loses it, never mind he'd half-thought the same thing until a second ago; Dream saying it makes him refute the assertion with everything he's got.

"You dare," he says, setting aside his water.

Dream boggles at him, cosmic eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.

"You. DARE. To disdain my professional services just because we know each other?!"

"Hob— "

"No. No, your booking was very clear that you were to have the very best, and that. Is. Me. So you will not be re-booking with another companion on the grounds that our acquaintance makes it 'awkward'; if you mean to partake of the services you've hired you will partake of them with me."

"My sibling."

"What."

"My sibling hired your services. Did they know—" He's half talking to himself and Hob sighs, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track.

"Yes, right; your sibling booked you and here you are. Did you want to get laid today?"

"You need not be so crude about it."

"Forgive me. Of course. Did you come here hoping to have a sensual skillful sexual experience with a stranger intent on your pleasure with no judgments or expectations placed upon you in return?" He makes a valiant effort to rein in his sarcasm. "Because I can still provide that. Minus the bit where we're not strangers."

Dream looks positively miserable, a sodden wet cat of a man in sex-appeal robes hunched on the edge of the decadently-plush bed, and there is certainly an understandable element of embarrassment to the situation but Dream is taking it so seriously. Hob is not surprised, exactly, but christ—he's more than willing to follow through never mind any feelings he may or may not want to admit to, and Dream is the one who'd agreed to the booking in the first place. You'd think he could handle this hiccup with a little more grace.

"It was my intent to. Do, as you say," Dream says at last, and Hob sighs.

"Is that still what you want, then? I promise I'll take good care of you." He's actually really warming up to the idea, not that he was cold to it to begin with. It's his Stranger after all. He's been willing to say yes for centuries. "They really did book you the best, and I would love to show you how well-earned my reputation is—"

"Hob—" Dream sounds pained, gives an artfully-dramatic shake of his head. "My wants are. Manageable. If no one else is available. I cannot simply engage with you so frivolously—"

Hob leaps up from the bed, stalks a frustrated few steps away and whirls back, spreads his arms. "Am I not appealing to you, Dream of the Endless?" He tosses his head, shakes his hair back, gestures at the blue silk and lace that he knows looks absolutely spectacular on him. "Would you like me to change clothes? I have a dozen more ensembles I'd be happy to put on if you'd rather peel me out of one of those. Would the Prince of Stories prefer roleplay? Golden-age pirate, biker bad boy, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth, cowboy, librarian, Starfleet officer—I'll dress however you like." He's fired up, he's…it feels like anger but it's more like alarm; he is absolutely not about to let a colleague fuck HIS Stranger if Dream's looking to unwind. Not with all the thoughts he's entertained the last couple centuries, not when Dream is looking so entirely miserable about the whole experience. Hob wiggles his bare toes in the plush carpet, forcing a deep breath; he is jealous and possessive and protective all at once and has no idea how to safely navigate this storm to get Dream what he wants without pissing him off.

"Your…clothing becomes you greatly, Hob." He's sneaking a glance as he says it, like he's not allowed to look but can't help it. "Your clothing is not at issue."

"Then what is?" Hob rakes a hand back through his hair, frustration fizzling, careening toward concern. "If you're truly that put off by me, I'll let it go. But you're here, for sex, which you did say you wanted; this is my job and I'm good at it and you clearly need—" Someone to take care of you, he'd nearly said, and while Dream has been giving him so much leeway in this conversation he thinks that might be one straw too much for this particular camel's back.

Nice to know he appreciates Hob's hairy chest and his dick in blue lace, though.

Dream levels him with a look that almost puts him right back to 1889, and Hob has half a second to start panicking before Dream closes his eyes, draws himself up, sets his bloody weird helmet on the bedside table with a soft leathery clunk. When he opens his eyes again, they are resolute, resigned, the eyes of a man headed for the gallows despite the stars winking hopelessly in their depths.

"I do not wish to be intimate with you. When you view it as simply a job. I. Would like—but not. If it is a transaction. If I am merely a client."

Oh. Oh.

Oh shit, really?

Impossible.

Really?

"You want. You want it to mean something?" Hob is embarassed at how small his voice comes out.

Dream closes his eyes, something like shame written all over his beautiful otherworldly-pale face. "I had thought. At our fifth meeting. That perhaps there was the possibility of. Attraction, between us." He opens his night-sky eyes again, meets Hob's resolutely. "Had we not been interrupted…" He shakes his head. "I pondered the idea until next we met, anticipating the possibility of. Seeing, where we might have come to. But you named what was between us friendship, you named me lonely; I perceived your words as mockery and acted accordingly. I spent the next century with a surplus of time to wander my own thoughts. They turned to you, Hob Gadling, with regularity. As I expressed when last we met, I regret leaving our previous meeting so abruptly, so harshly. Your friendship is of great value to me. I am content to let it remain friendship, in the interest of keeping it. But I am unwilling to engage with you, who named me 'friend', as I would a lover when I have yet to fully bury the wish. That you might have been my lover in truth."

Hob is desperately trying to keep from bluescreening again and while he's focused on that, his mouth runs along without him. "You never even gave me a name, but you wanted us to be lovers?"

"I am. Aware, of how foolish my wishes—"

"No, oh no. Dream. Love." He absolutely cannot let him think that. "All you ever had to do was ask."

Dream looks at him, starry eyes full of misery with the faintest spark of hope underneath, glimmering with unshed tears. "I. Could not—"

"That was then. Water under the bridge. What about now."

Dream shivers, his more-than-human face wary and pleading and resigned all at once and the last of the fight drains out of Hob. He approaches gently, until he is directly in front of Dream on the edge of the bed again; he half straddles Dream's lap with one foot still on the floor and a bare knee sunk on the mattress beside him, threads both hands into Dream's hair behind his lovely ears, tips his pale face up.

"Ask me now. Please."

Dream's hand settles above his bent knee, a gentle, tentative touch; his eyelashes flutter, and the sound that leaves him steals Hob's breath. That hand travels softly around to grip the back of Hob's thigh, slides hesitantly higher, and then it's Hob making the helpless noise as Dream's fingertips card beautifully through his leg hair, run up beneath the short robe. Dream's spindly black-nailed hand caresses up over his exposed arse cheek, squeezes, and all the while Dream's beguiling uncanny eyes are fixed on him, wet and wondering, full of blossoming hope.

"Hob Gadling." His voice is hushed, almost reverent. "I should like to have you, as my lover. If you are amenable." His face is tipped up, so close between Hob's hands, and Hob.

Hob's shaking. He's actually trembling, pent up, a little scared; daring, as he leans down and his hair falls around them both, hoping—

He brushes his lips to Dream's.

He kisses his Stranger, his friend, his touchstone.

And Dream of the Endless, who is all of those things, kisses him back.

It's nothing like he might have imagined, and ten times as wonderful, and over before he realizes he's ended it.

"Do you mean it." His voice is breathless, the words spoken directly against Dream's mouth. It's a stupid question, in light of the entire conversation gone before and the hand still on his arse, but he can't help asking. This entire turn of events is just too good to be true.

"Yes."

But true it is, apparently, and Hob's heart soars.

"Then. Dream of the Endless. My Stranger. My friend." He presses soft kisses to those plush pink lips between each moniker, dizzy that he's allowed. "Let me add another title to the list, darling. Take me to bed; the suite is ours 'til tomorrow. Let me learn how you would have me. Let me show you how I would treat you. And let me, at long last, name you mine."

= Started: 8/21/24 Drafted: 8/27/24 Posted: 8/30/24

If you're looking for a spicier take on this concept, @delta-pavonis has you covered: Dossier 54392 - please, give it a read, it's delicious.

(and here, have a post-script-y epilogue-exchange of sorts that did not quite fit:)

= "You chose to name yourself Nick Bottom?"

"What better name for a callboy to the supernatural than the bloke who got unwittingly embroiled in a fae lovers' spat and ultimately survived the entire encounter unscathed? Feels pretty relevant to me. Empowering, a bit?"

"Nick Bottom was less 'empowered' than simply lucky, perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll not turn my nose up at good luck, either. But a name like Bottom in this business is also too good a pun to pass up, and I figure old Shaxberd would approve."

"I believe he would, indeed."

"The irony being that fully half of my clients want me to top them, heh."

"I do not wish to speak of your clients while you are in bed with me."

"Got better uses for my mouth, have you?"

"Other sounds I would prefer to hear from it, yes."

"Fair enough. Why don't you tell me what you want, Mr. Sandman, and see if I can make your dreams come true."

"Must you be so cliché?"

"You love my clich—mmph—"

"Stop. Talking."

"Yes love."

(Dream will tell him about commissioning A Midsummer Night's Dream at some other time 💖)

= Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream that lent themselves to the title: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was and also The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM Family Fic Rec List

Hey everyone! I want to start by saying thank you so much to everyone who participated - it was so much fun to write alongside you all, and I can’t wait to share everyone’s hard work. You are so appreciated, and you makes these events better.

Without further ado, here are all of the entries + recs for the CM Family Challenge!

SFW S.R. Fics (Pregnancy/Parenting)

Growing Pains: Spencer finds unfamiliar lingerie in the laundry. When he confronts his wife, he learns it belongs to their teenage daughter.

One Last Chance? by @justanothercmblog: Spencer and his wife have decided to foster a teenager.

Little Genius by @c-m-stuff: You and Spencer are married. You two have a beautiful daughter, who is coming to work with you.

Somewhere to Belong by @fortheloveofwonderland: You and Spencer have only been dating a few months when he drops the bombshell that he wants to adopt a child and it throws you into turmoil.

Who's Your Daddy? by @justawritterwithideas: After a long day's work, the BAU returns to the head office where they find a stroller with a small baby sleeping and a child very determined to surprise his father. c

SFW S.R. Fics (Other Family Dynamics)

The Mother Wound by me: Spencer and Reader bond over the difficulty of an emotionally absent mother.

A Desert Bloom by me: Reader has never liked cacti. Spencer finally finds out why.

A Well-Kept Secret by @astrophileous: While working on a case in D.C., Spencer didn't expect to hear a familiar name being mentioned as the sole surviving witness. Or, in which the team discovers Spencer's well-kept secret.

Pet Parents by @junipers-archive: In which Spencer and Reader adopt a baby (dog).

Keep reading for other pairings, more of my S.R. fics, and another related Fic Rec Masterlist!

Other Pairings

Motherhood by @foxy-eva: Temily. Emily and Tara become mothers.

May by @gaelic-symphony: Temily. Tara and Emily babysit the Simmons kids.

Maternal Instinct by @gaelic-symphony: Emily/Alex Blake. Motherhood brings with it complicated feelings for new moms Emily and Alex. Written for the CM fandom gift exchange.

Keeping the Faith [AO3] by @masterwords: Hotchgan. Hotch and Derek take the kids to Easter Service.

Going Home Time [AO3] by @/masterwords: Hotchgan. Hotch and Jessica co-parent Jack

Home is Where the Heart Is by @prentiss-theorem: Alex Blake/Fem!Reader. Domesticity with Alex, Ethan, and Reader.

The Sound of (No) Silence [AO3] by @/ArwenLaLaith: Alex Blake/Fem!Reader. Reader and Alex have just welcomed their daughter into the world.

Home by @neuroprincess: Alex Blake/Fem!Reader. Alex finally returns home after one week.

Question of Timing by @codename-mom: [NSFW] Aaron/Haley. Aaron finally agreed to make Haley a mother and she realised that the d-day is now. The issue is: how to convinced a husband afraid AF to be a father to do the last step? 

Be sure to check out @darcyfangirlsfrequently's Masterlist of entries, which includes fics for Luke Alvez, Garvez, and Tara/Rebecca!

Be sure to also check out @the-guilty-writer's Masterlist of entries, which includes fics for Child!Readers of Spencer, Rossi, Derek, and Hotch, as well as Emily's sibling!

Gen Fics

Mothers and Daughters by @/gaelic-symphony: When Ambassador Prentiss brings the team a kidnapping case, it causes Emily to reflect back on her tumultuous relationship with her mother.

A Day At Work by @/codename-mom: Platonic. JJ arrived early in Hotch’s office to discover that he was not alone. A surprise guest was with him for the day.

Looking for more?

Keep reading for the rest of my Spencer Reid fics associated with pregnancy and parenting!

SFW S.R./Mom!Reader

Impromptu: Reader learns some shocking news when a case lands her in the hospital.

Painting by Numbers: Spencer is still a little worried about his pregnant wife painting the house.

Practice Run: Spencer and Reader take on Derek’s challenge to babysit.

The Prodigy Path: At a parent teacher conference, Spencer and Reader explain their seemingly unorthodox parenting style.

Fairytales: Spencer comes home to his very tired wife and even more tired child who refused to go to bed without a bedtime story from their dad.

Intentions: Spencer’s teenage daughter wants to have a conversation with you about your intentions with her father.

Defining Family: Spencer finds out he’s a dad… to a twelve year old girl. Your twelve year old girl, who just broke into the FBI.

From the Tree: The kidnapping case becomes personal when Spencer and Reader get a call from their nanny.

S.R. & Child!Reader

Like Father, Like You: Child!Reader. Platonic. In which Spencer’s child comes out as not-straight.

NSFW S.R./Fem!Reader

Domesticity: Reader gets worked up watching Spencer with kids. He notices.

Different Kind of Daddy: After a rough day, Reader has good news for her husband.

Santa’s Gift: Reader asks her husband what he wants for Christmas.

To Have and To Hold: Reader is trying to save her marriage, but Spencer seems resigned to its failure.

Stork Song: Spencer and Reader try to find intimacy again following a terrible loss.

Still not satisfied?!

Check out my extensive Father's Day Rec List!

Thanks for reading.

[evesaintyves]

so in the allegedly non-homophobic spirit of this cursed genre of post (which, props to this one for at least saying the quiet part loud: that these criticisms are exclusively directed toward queer pairings), and inspired by a prompt of sorts from fandom gem @saintsenara -

i wrote some platonic jily and i completely agree, they're better as friends.

never mind the prosecco, here's the potter-malfoy-potter-blacks

Rated M | Jily, Narlily, Jegulus, Drarry | AU - everyone lives and it's like 2010 | tw choking, pussy juice, eggs

Three things occurred to Lily, leaning back on the island of cool italian marble in the fuck-off big kitchen of this ridiculous house: one, that she had no idea where all this was coming from, as James had never given a single fuck in his life about womens' Quidditch; two, that even three decades after they'd split up he was still obviously desperate for her to think he was cool; and three, that he was burning Regulus's eggs.

"So what the Harpies have done," he patiently explained as if she was listening, "is create a turn-based system for rotating positions—so every player has experience with beating, seeking, and so on—that way everyone's aware of the weak points—" he seemed to catch on that she wasn't making eye-contact, and tossed his mop of silvering hair. "The Weasley girl was on the Wireless about it this morning. Really inspiring."

He turned back to the crispy eggs and stirred them vigourously. They made a sort of crackling noise.

"I guess I'm just not sure why you're telling me," Lily said, taking the moment to finally do what she'd come to the kitchen for: grabbing a fresh bottle of prosecco from the fridge.

"Well, it's incredible what these girls are coming up with. 'The future is female,' I saw that on someone's shirt the other day."

He glanced eagerly at her over his shoulder.

"Cool," she said.

"Never mind the prosecco," Narcissa drawled, sweeping into the kitchen in her marabou-feather gown. "Draco's popped a button on his robes, so he'll be calling any moment."

"Do you mend buttons?" James asked with genuine interest.

Narcissa made an appalled face and gathered the lapels of her robe together.

"Have you not finished?" Regulus said sourly, coming down the stairs. Looking directly at Lily, he added, "This kitchen has smelled like a crematorium ever since you let Boopsy go."

Lily - still on the defensive after all these years! - crossed her arms and replied, "I didn't 'let her go,' she was legally emancipated and got a job at Pret a Manger."

Regulus waved a hand in the air, making the slight haze of egg-smoke swirl prettily in the light. "It's political correctness gone mad," he muttered.

Inexplicably, James got one of his big simpy grins, beckoned Regulus over, and smacked a kiss on his pale brow.

Draco apparated into their midst with a pop and instantly recoiled at the sight of them.

"Potters," he spat, by way of greeting. "Er—" he nodded to Regulus, whose name he could never seem to remember. Narcissa glided over and took his face in her hands.

"Oh, darling, come here, I've been waiting all morning to see you."

Lily, concerned she might not be effectively controlling her facial expression, turned to slot the prosecco bottle back into the fridge. Narcissa had actually spent most of the morning sprawled on her back with her thighs squishing the sides of Lily's face.

Draco squirmed slightly under his mother's hands. "It's all the buttons under the third one," he said gruffly, thrusting an armful of jacquard robes at Narcissa.

"Sweet boy," Narcissa cooed, "I'll send it out to the tailor immediately. How ever did you manage to break them?"

With another pop, Harry apparated into the room.

"Hi Mum," he said. "Dad. Hi Cissa and Reg."

James disentangled his arms from Regulus's and clapped Harry on the back. "Wha gwan, son?" he roared happily, and even with his back turned Lily could see Harry's shoulders cringe.

"I told you—" Draco began through his teeth.

"You were taking forever," Harry shrugged.

"I'm glad you're here," James said, very serious furrows appearing in his brow. "I was just listening to that bird you used to go out with on the wireless—"

"Oh!" Narcissa exclaimed, still petting Draco's face. "Darling, will you show everyone the trick you taught me last week?" To the room: "You'll all want to see this, it's marvellous. Draco's enchanted a mirror to do something incredible."

Draco sighed defeatedly. To Harry, he said, "Let me see your phone."

Harry pulled a slim black piece of glass out of his pocket, and, with a sideways glance at Lily, tapped and swiped at it with his fingers a few times before handing it to Draco.

"This mirror," Narcissa was saying, "quite remarkable, really—all you do is push a button on it, and a horrible little muggle comes to your door and brings you a prawn fettucine. Draco, please—" she scrabbled at the glass in his hand. "—will you push the fettucine button for mummy?"

"It's called Seamless, Mother," Draco mumbled, and just as he did Narcissa pulled a face and slid her finger round the collar of her son's shirt.

"Draco," she said, with a kind of horror rising in her voice, "What's happened to your neck? Is it dirt—?"

A flush instantly came to Draco's face and Harry twisted round from his one-sided conversation with James to give Draco a rather pointed look.

"Mother, stop, it's nothing," he said, pulling away. And on Harry's face was a look Lily had seen on James a thousand times, back in their day: like he was trying, but not particularly hard, not to look smug.

James's eyes shifted between Harry and Draco and he seemed, bless him, to finally clock what was going on. He pulled Harry by the shoulder to the other side of the kitchen and began to speak to him in hushed tones.

"You want to put all the pressure on the sides, not the front," he was saying.

Regulus went and scraped his ruined eggs into the bin, obviously eavesdropping, then put the pan back on the stove without shutting off the flame. The tang of hot metal began to compete with the crematorium smell and Lily wondered if anyone would notice if she got the prosecco back out and necked it.

"Regulus," she sighed. "Anything new with you?"

Regulus looked startled to be spoken to.

"Not really," he said, eyes shifting round the room. "I don't actually have all that much going on, canonically."

"Can—what?"

"Do you know how to make eggs?" he said hopefully.

"I think I've a salve for that," Narcissa was telling Draco, leading him by the hand into the suite she shared with Lily. "Well, it's more of an eye cream, but it's done absolute wonders for me—"

"You can do real damage to the trachea that way," James was explaining to Harry, demonstrating with a cupped hand to his neck.

"I work in Magical Law Enforcement," Harry deadpanned. "I think I know how to fucking choke someone."

Regulus emitted the strangely high-pitched giggle Lily was always hearing from inside the cup-strewn, bleach-smelling lair he shared with James.

"Why does it smell like—" Draco stopped in Lily and Narcissa's doorway. With narrowed eyes, he hissed to his mother, "I thought you were all in some sort of... like, queerplatonic... situation...?"

James's brow got those furrows again.

"What's queerplatonic?" he whispered to Lily.

"It means nobody fucks," she whispered back.

James squared his shoulders and took a step forward as if he might try to fight Draco.

---

"We raised a good kid," James would tell Lily later, after they'd put out the fire on the stove, slightly misty-eyed with nostalgia and the acrid smoke. "All of us," he'd add, with a nod toward Lily and Narcissa's side of the house, which was now perfumed rather pleasantly with a melange of prosecco, wet pussy and prawn fettucine.

"Yeah," Lily would say wistfully. "Shit taste in men, though."

"Well, it runs in the family." James would ruffle his hair, the way he tended to. After a pause, he'd venture: "And I daresay you and I had a pretty good run, didn't we?"

Lily would tip the bottle up and drain the last of the prosecco at that. James would hold out his hand, and she'd pass him the empty bottle. He'd try to take a drink, then bin it with a disgruntled look.

"It was all right," she'd say.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Guildford and Jane are hiding out in an inn. Sexy times ensue.

These Days Forth

Fandom: My Lady Jane Pairing: Jane x Guildford Rating: E Word Count: 1769

Summary: Necessity compels Jane and Guildford to take refuge at an inn far from London (and Mary). Without Jane's crown and Guildford's illusory riches, they present themselves as no more than what they are: newlyweds on their honeymoon.

Of course, the moment Jane says they must go back, her impulsiveness threatens to effect her (and Guildford's with her) swift recapture by Mary's waiting grasp. She forces herself to hold off, to remember what she told Edward; returning unprepared would achieve nothing. Everyone she knows, and many people she doesn't, just risked life and limb to enable their freedom. That is an incredible gift. She must not flout the giving of it.

They pass a day and then a night out of doors. At first, the extreme unconstraint of their circumstances induces delirious happiness. They are alive! They are unobserved! Guildford has control of his form! Adding to their contentment are the long hours of golden sunshine and the absence of any other demands on their time that leaves them free to make lazy, luxuriating love without dreading that it will be the last time.

Yes, it's very good for a day and a night. But then it rains. They aren't completely inept in the wild, but neither of them is used to going without shelter for an extended period. Guildford brags that he knows how to hunt, but soon after explains that it was stag-hunting on horseback, and he was a child, and the stag was felled by a flintlock rifle. They do not have one of those. With her study of plants, Jane feels superior for a while, but the truth is her expertise is mainly medicinal. She possesses less knowledge of what they can eat for sustenance. After all, she had a home to return to after a romp through the woods or along the river. There was always a hot supper waiting, and she was not the one who prepared it.

They admit to one another that they are hampered by their noble birth and agree to find an inn where they can sleep, eat, and wash. Jane can still smell the bonfire smoke on their hair and clothes. Guildford doesn't complain about it, but she will erase the reminder of that recent memory if she can.

The next problem is that they don't have any money. They never really have, but they've always had their families to find ways of dealing with that, and then, of course, Jane was named Queen of England and Ireland, which sucked for several obvious reasons, but did come with a free house and life-sustaining amenities. Que sera.

For a single moment, they watch the sun glinting off their wedding bands.

"Not a chance," Jane says.

"They'd have to cut my finger off to get it," Guildford declares. "And then, they'd better kill me, because I'd still come after it."

His vehemence costs them an hour of travel time. Jane finds his devotion to her deeply attractive, and the moment he sees as much in her eyes, they're tugging one another's clothes off.

When they finally reach an inn, they're careful to be noticably useful. Guildford gentles a difficult horse outside the stables, and then Jane recommends a headache cure to a half-drunk patron that encourages him to stay and keep drinking. The establishment's proprietress assesses them, impressed, and after Jane mentions she and Guildford are a married couple who won't cause any trouble, they're offered a room.

"Newlyweds," Guildford puts in, an impish gleam in his eye.

Jane blushes at the knowing chuckle this elicits. It seems an unnecessary thing to mention, and now they're sure to be teased each time they show their faces, to have every creak of the floorboards or rattle of the shutters attributed to them: the boarders who do nothing but fuck the minute they're out of sight. She tries to figure out Guildford's plan as she climbs the stairs. Why would he say it?

It's the look on his face when they close the door to their room that explains it to her; there's no hint of suspicion. He appears comfortable here. She deduces that he said it simply because he wanted to—that he wanted to share their news, proud to announce himself as her husband. So far, this marriage hasn't been for them. They had no part in organizing it, took no joy in their vows or false consummation, and encountered immediate pitfalls and deceptions that would never have been part of their lives if not for the union. In a way, this is their honeymoon. It's certainly the first time they've been able to participate in their marriage on their own terms.

"Are you very in love with me?" Jane asks teasingly.

Guildford looks surprised, but smiles in eager satisfaction as she approaches him.

"Very," he says.

Not wanting to dirty the bed with the grime of their travels, they strip each other standing, then sink to the floor. The transit of the inn's past guests has worn the boards smooth. She and Guildford stretch out, become entangled in one another, and Jane experiences another sort of happiness. It's different from the moments of relief and fast-flaring desire at the palace, which always felt stolen, and different from their first day on the run, that irresponsible joy of two people unburdened, completely, from the lives they were living and the roles they played. This happiness feels like peace.

And it feels like planed oak, and her tired legs, and the fingertips Guildford licked before fondling between her thighs. Her back bows off the floor, but his touch goes on and on. She's never seen him so patient.

When she mounts him, he makes all the sounds she loves, so she leaves his mouth uncovered and takes him slowly. I, Jane, she thinks to the rhythm of her swaying hips. She sits up, astride him, and closes her eyes, face tilted towards the ceiling in her pleasure. I, Jane, I, Jane, take thee, Guildford, thee, Guildford, to be my wedded husband. His fingers comb lightly through the ends of her hair that brush across her back. To have, to have, and to hold, hold, hold. She takes him more shallowly, then deep once more, clenching so he groans. From this day forth. They promised, then, that it would last forever. She moves on his lap like that's still the goal.

Later, they sit on the floor and run wet cloths over one another's bodies to remove the scents of sweat, sex, and, at last, smoke. The smoke from the small fire they lit to heat the water smells quite different to what rose from the blaze intended to kill Guildford. They've left this cheerfully crackling thing burning low, though the night is warm. Guildford sweeps Jane's hair aside before washing her neck. His lips trail back and forth across her clean skin. She's lulled close to unconsciousness before he speaks.

"I think we could have done this."

Drowsy, Jane doesn't understand.

"Done what?"

"Lived like this," Guildford explains. "Simple work. Just a room to ourselves, but it's enough, don't you find?"

"You say that now," she warns. "We haven't had a chance to properly irritate one another yet since we arrived. I'm sure we'll both be wishing for palatial acres before long."

"No," he murmurs, pressing his face to her neck. "I want to be near you."

"You're exhausted," she rationalizes.

"No," he says again, but he's dropped the cloth and is now resting his head on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her from behind.

"Do you just like saying 'no' to me?"

"No," Guildford mumbles.

Jane turns slightly, jostling him from her shoulder. He gazes at her sleepily.

"We'd better go to bed." With great reluctance on both sides, they rise, and she realizes, "We've never shared a bed before. Not all night, I mean. You had better not kick. I had to share with Katherine when we were small, and she kicked like the devil."

Spying Guildford's affronted expression, Jane decides she'll provoke him while he's tired more often. There's a softness to his scowl that she finds rather charming, and his hair is mussed from leaning on her.

"I didn't kick you in my sleep when I was a horse, did I?"

"No," Jane says, smiling as she climbs into bed.

"There. Then why would I do it as a man?" He settles in beside her, spreading his arms until she's nestled against his chest. "Better come close."

"Can't kick me if I'm close," she murmurs.

"That's right, love."

—

They stay at the inn—Guildford making himself useful in the stables (where they can't believe how good he is with horses) and Jane providing medical recommendations and treatments (mostly for the aftereffects of heavy drinking)—for as long as they can. When they're alone, they sit and think and hold each other, and make plans to rejoin the world.

Though they fled far enough from London that the turmoil there isn't felt here right away, eventually, soldiers come to the inn on Mary's errand. Jane is downstairs when they arrive. Guildford, who must have seen them approaching, comes in from the stables. They force themselves not to run, but to listen. The soldiers claim to be here seeking the usurper, Jane Grey. The proprietress laughs in their faces. Queen Jane? In this inn? She thinks she would have noticed.

Oh, would you? Jane thinks archly. The majority of her subjects have never even seen her face, and therefore could not be expected to recognize her without a crown on her head. Still, her heart is beating overquick as she glances at her husband.

Thankfully, the proprietress's thorough amusement at the idea is enough to send the soldiers on their way. There are so many places Jane could still be hiding. Mary must be frantic, Jane thinks, to spare any members of her army for such a task. This could be good or bad: either Mary's suppressed the revolt so quickly that she feels confident dividing her forces, or it's going so incredibly poorly that she's desperate to execute Jane in a show of insane fury and intimidation. It's fairly difficult to tell from inside the four walls of their rented chamber.

That very night, Jane and Guildford accept that they'd better go. There are people out there who want them dead, but also people who they want to know they're still alive. Siblings and allies and friends and, ugh, fine, parents. It's a realization they can no longer postpone: ready or not, it's time to go back.

Some time later, they'll realize something else—that it may have been during those happy days that the child Jane's carrying was conceived. Perhaps that first night, on the smooth wood floor. When their fingers laced together, and Jane stroked Guildford's wedding ring.

[euphor1a]

Joshua having a corruption kink

thirst drabbles (5/∞)

fandom » svt

pairing » joshua x f!reader

rating » 18+ (minors dni!)

genre » smut, brother’s best friend au.

word count » ~ 1260

warnings » profanity, soft dom!shua, sub!reader, inexperienced/virgin!reader, corruption kink, use of pet names, tons of praising, dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, lmk if i missed anything!

It feels wrong, so wrong. 

But at the same time, you are experiencing so many sensations that are completely new to you — sensations that are euphoric.

Even if you tried your best to hate how good he is making you feel, you really just couldn’t. How could you? When he’s fulfilling your deepest, darkest desires? When he’s this close to taking you to heaven? Or hell, maybe. But it doesn’t really matter to you right now. 

Joshua’s hungry tongue laps at your cunt, his thumb gently rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves you had barely paid attention to before. His eyes are trained on your splayed-out figure on his best friend’s bed, taking in every little detail possible. The way you twitch and whimper, occasionally cry out his name, shyly try to cover yourself even in this state – everything is driving him crazy. 

Well, He must have gone crazy, he thinks. Joshua finds it’s hard to believe that he’s actually doing this to you right now. Did you really agree to his straight up scandalous proposition? No cause. Fuck, he’s living his wildest fantasy right now. 

“You’re my good girl, aren’t you? Tasting so sweet, making such cute sounds and looking all pretty for me.” A grunt escapes him, the sound going straight through your core. Obscene noises of licking, sucking and slurping echo throughout the dorm room Joshua and your brother shares, making you impossibly embarrassed. You shudder and whine, toes curling when he grazes his tongue along your entrance. 

What will your elder brother do if he finds out? What if he walks right into this… scene? 

“What’s so important that you gotta think about it when I’m eating your pussy diligently? Or am I not doing good enough, angel?” Joshua stops for a second, three of his fingers slapping your clit. You jolt and let out a broken mewl. The sudden action increases the weird feeling inside your lower abdomen, your eyes tearing up a little.

“Ah, ‘m sorry… I–” you halt, realizing that he has completely pulled away from your throbbing cunt. His hands are still grasping at your thighs firmly, but his mouth is far away from where you want it to be. Joshua suddenly chuckles out loud, your inner walls clench from his smooth yet deep voice. 

“You look like a kicked puppy. What happened, baby? Tell me what’s going on.” He drops a butterfly kiss on the delicate flesh of your inner thigh. You have no idea why, but you realize that your pussy is aching. For him. You want him to continue.

Flustered by your own thoughts, a nearly inaudible ‘please’ is all you manage. Your left hand comes up to cover some parts of your face soon after. But, of course, the devil between your legs isn’t satisfied with just that. “Sorry, but I didn’t catch what you said. Say it loud and clear, okay? Try again, angel.” 

The subtle smile on his lips seems to be encouraging. Although, you swear it’s a smirk he’s hiding underneath. 

“Don’t leave– um, stop like that… please, Shua.” Your heartbeat is dangerously high, and you’re also starting to realize exactly how hot your skin has got. 

Joshua raises an eyebrow at you, licking his lips on purpose. “You can do better, don’t you think, baby? How about you be more specific? What do you want me to do?” 

Heat rises to your face, and you find yourself swallowing nervously. “But that’s so embarrassing!” You complain, definitely louder than intended. 

“What’s so embarrassing about wanting to get your pretty pussy sucked until you come all over my face? If I was you, I’d have wanted the same.” Joshua shrugs nonchalantly. 

You groan, hiding your face under your hands, your hips bucking up automatically. Adding more to your devastation, he teasingly trails open-mouthed kisses down your thighs, going dangerously close to your gushing and throbbing cunt, but stopping before he can reach there. 

“I know you want it so bad, baby. I can see your little hole clenching and your clit is all swollen. Just say the word! Let me take care of you.” 

Desperation blinds you, your hands balling into fists. “God, fine! Please… eat my pussy. Please. It hurts, Shua.” Your immediate wish is for the earth to open up and swallow you whole, but instead, he’s the one consuming you entirely.

“That’s my girl, you did so well.” Joshua smiles before diving right back in, his nose pressing against your clit while he pushes the tip of his tongue into your core. You cry out, one of your hands flying to grip on his messy locks. He hums appreciatively, clearly enjoying the way you pull onto his hair. The warm, flexible muscle gently strokes your gummy walls, eliciting a moan from you. It feels like you’re floating, every part of your body alight with pleasure.

Each thrust of his tongue pushes you closer towards the edge, yet you feel so far away from it. “Ugh… mm–more! Gonna come, Shua. Please.” You whine, squirming under his grip. Joshua plucks his tongue out from you with a loud popping sound, his darkened eyes falling upon your teary ones. 

His boxers have become incredibly tight, and your sudden plea only worsens it for him. Joshua places your right leg over his shoulder, letting his finger coat in your leaking juices mixed with his saliva. “Look at you. Half an hour ago you couldn’t even look me in the eye, were trying to hide yourself and refusing to say what you wanted. Good job, baby, I’m so proud of you.” Those words affect you immediately, the embarrassment starting to creep back up. 

However, before you can do anything, his index and middle fingers slide inside your sopping cunt, your body tensing up from the overwhelming, foreign feeling. He realizes and rushes to whisper sweet nothings, stroking your tummy to calm you down. “Relax, angel. It’s gonna hurt the double if you are tense like that, yeah? Everything’s okay. You are so wet, taking me so well.” 

You slowly ease up, whimpering immediately. Joshua’s thicker, longer fingers fill you up way better than your own – almost like it’s meant to be. He presses a gentle kiss on your mound, murmuring, “Do you want me to move now, baby?” 

“Yeah…” You nod eagerly, squeezing his still fingers inside you. He groans, starting off slow. The drag of his calloused skin against your spongy walls does some things to you, your hips rocking back and forth to meet him halfway. Joshua can’t help but smirk, watching your walls of ‘innocence’ crumbling down in his hands. Your constant pants and cries almost cover up the lewd squelching sounds of your cunt sucking in his digits repetitively. 

“Shua, *ahng*, it feels– so weird–” you whimper, but he only shushes you. A few tears escape from your eyes, the intense feeling that you’re about to burst increasing tenfold as he leans down to suckle on your clit. You start spasming around him, and then it hits you – a wave that makes your whole body rigid but loosens it up soon after. It feels like you’ve turned into jelly, brain addled. 

Joshua climbs up to hover over your shaking form, fingers still inside your pussy. “Good girl, you did amazing.” He presses a lingering peck on your forehead, then finds your lips in a sweet, comforting kiss. “You made such a mess on your brother’s bed… I’m gonna have to change out the sheets before he comes back.”                 

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 author’s notes ꒱

thank you so much for reading <33!! i hope you enjoyed it 🥺! it’s been a while since i shared new content so i’m low-key nervous hfhfhjgh. thank you to @yeonjun4beagles​​ for suggesting mr. shua; otherwise, this really might had not seen the light of the day! ;’)

consider leaving a reblog or a comment to let me know what you think of this!! feedback through asks will be appreciated too! do support your local writers, the community is dying 🫠

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[yourbloodysunrise]

Hi! I was wondering if I can request 2012 Donatello where he finally manages to have enough courage to ask out reader but because he took to long reader is already dating someone? I want the angstiest angst that you can make 😇 also can it be like a Drabble or a one shot?

🌤 — ah, angst, the thing that always worse than I imagined.hope you've seen that I write soft angst, so it can be different from what you expected.here we go!

❝ Every plans has flaws.. ❞

— FANDOM: TMNT 2012

— PAIRING: DONATELLO X READER

— ROMANTIC

— READER IS GENDER NEUTRAL

— TW: BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR, SWEARING, SOFT ANGST, OOC, DONNIE MORE ANGRY THAN UPSET, THIS IS SHORT, READER NAME NOT MENTIONED

"..And then I'll ask them to go on a date with me!It has to be the perfect plan!"

"I don't know, dude, why don't just cut out the whole evidence-finding part about the Kraangs?" — Mikey answers, spinning around in a chair in Donny's lab, not really listening to him.

Donnie loudly sighed, slowly turned to Mikey, squinting at him, looking annoyed by his question, as if the answer was obvious.

"BECAUSE I want everything to go perfectly!One small mistake can make them refuse.."

"I think you're too paranoid, just relax!Not like them already dating someone."

"..."

"..That's not the best way to calm someone down, Mikey."

"But that not bad, as try."

Donnie blankly looks at Mikey before turning away, shaking his head, — "I should have consulted with Master Splinter instead of you..Anyway, I want to make sure they agree."

"Maybe they will if you just come up and ask?I mean, you didn't try it."

"Well..You're right in some way, though..No, no, what am I thinking?!" — Donnie sighs, rubbing his temples with his fingers, looking wearily at the plan he drew of trying to ask his new passion out on a date, — "I just don't want to make a mistake, I've been trying to please them for so long that it feels like I'm pushing them away.."

"Pushing who away?" — you ask, entering the laboratory, causing a startled squeal from Donnie, hiding the plan board behind the laboratory equipment, — "Hi Mikey, hello Donnie. Sorry for not knocking, but I thought you'd hear me coming in."

"No problem-"

"None, hi, don't worry, I don't mind, everything fine!" — Donnie repeats, stuttering, a nervous and embarrassed smile graced his face, making you giggle.

Mikey glanced briefly at Donnie, winking at him and pointing at you, before taking a skateboard, standing at the entrance to the laboratory, and walking away from there shouting "booyakasha!!!"

"Hm."

"How are you doing with the Kraang search?" — you ask, approaching Donnie, leaning on the laboratory table.

"Weeeell, in the last few days I haven't been able to find any clues about where they might be, so so far the results are zero," — he says, turning away from you, rubbing his neck, staring at the floor.

Come on, Don, this is your chance. Maybe you won't have the opportunity to ask them out anymore?

He swallows the lump in his throat, feeling nervousness wash over him. He doesn't have any excuse to spend time with them..Okay, new plan. Maybe it won't hurt to try?

"Heeeyy.." — he begins, stretching out words, still gathering his thoughts, — "I need to tell you something.."

You mumble thoughtfully, interest lights up in your eyes when you lean closer to him, —"Yeah?"

He nervously swallows with excitement when you approach him, he inhales before starting.

"L-look, you can refuse, I understand you, given the circumstances of our relationship in terms of our situation.."

"Maybe we could go on a date?..Just ordinary date, where would you like to go?I know this is all unexpected, but..please?"

You stand there with your mouth open in shock before closing your jaw, staring at Donny dumbfounded with round eyes.

"O-Oh, Don.. it's.."

"Impossible."

"I'm sorry, but..I already have a partner. It's pretty awkward, you know.."

"But, hey, we're still friends, right?" — you awkwardly comfort him, trying to smile, although the only thing that comes out is a sour strained smile that tries to flinch.

You two stood in deathly silence, feeling the tension grow by the second. If it was something very embarrassing for you, then for him it felt like end of the world…

Your already weak smile completely disappeared when you saw his blank expression, you cleared your throat, preparing to talking — "Donnie?Are you okay?.."

He blinked a few times before answering in a low voice, — "Yes..Yes, I'm fine. Don't worry.."

You turned your head away with a sigh, staring at the floor, realizing that he said it just so that you wouldn't worry about him. Of course, it was probably worse for him than for you, you thought.

"I…I think I'll go." — you say quickly before turning around and leaving the lab. Donnie watched you walk all the way out, waiting for you to disappear through the door, and waiting a few more seconds to make sure you were gone before growling in annoyance.

Why?

The question arose in his head, feeling jealousy fill him, eating into his skin like poison, spreading throughout his body with a caustic feeling of envy and hatred for the whole world.

Why not him?

He collapsed into a chair, covering his face with his hands, letting out a heavy sigh. Was it useless to develop a plan from the very beginning?Or did his self doubt delay him and you managed to find a partner?Why can't luck wait at least one fucking day, so as not to ruin it for him?

He was thinking about what had just happened with a frowning face, resting his elbow on the table, and your photo caught his eye.

With an unreadable face, he picked it up, looking through it, longing seeped into his gaze at the sight of your smiling photo. Slowly, he squeezed the frame of the photo, his fingers digging into the wood with such force that he could have broken it if he really wanted to.

Everything is okay. You have made your choice. You're still friends. Everything will be fine.

Although, perhaps he could show you that he is the best choice?..

..:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟﾞ｡.:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟ🌤

🌤 — aw, my dear turtle don't deserve this :(

🌤 — ah, finally I end this.I have tried very hard and often rewritten it, also I use translator so sorry if there any mistakes.

🌤 — hope you like it!have a good day☆

[yayakoishii]

Good evening, how are you? I hope you are well. I really loved your fics with chubby reader (I laughed so hard with Sanji "whoever you're talking about, I agree with Nami. no one is worthy of you") and I wanted to know if your asks are still open? I don't know if you're comfortable writing comedy, but I think it would be funny if Reader was a fighter and Sanji saw her applying the move from this link on some random enemy (https://youtu.be/JgnUVcFx_Tg?si=KY3nrRhF86C91fOV), and asked her to apply it to him (kind of nfsw-ish but no big deal)

Move | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader

Word Count: 500~

Genre: Fluff?? Silly?? Drabble

A/n: Hey there anon! I'm doing great, thank you for asking <3 First of all, I'm so happy to hear you enjoyed my fics and I'm sorry for being so late ;-; Do I like comedy? Very much. Am I good at it? ...no. So the best I could manage was this small quick thing which isn't much or even all that funny tbh, but I hope it atleast is enough to bring a smile on your face. That's enough for me ♡

also available on ao3!

"You messed with the wrong bitch!!" You shouted as you swung your leg right into the side of the man. He doubled over and you swung it once more to go right over his head, effectively knocking him out. Behind him, you could see another one of his comrades running towards you.

Using the first guy as a springboard, you jumped on the man, your thighs coming to close around his head. The force and weight forced him to topple backwards and you took the moment to quickly snap his neck and clambered off him. When you turned around, you found that the others were down already thanks to Sanji, who was fighting alongside you.

But right now, the chef was staring at you with an open mouth. You self-consciously patted at your hair and clothes, wondering if something got askew because of the fighting.

"Uh, Sanji?" Your careful murmur of his name jolted the said man out of his thoughts. Sanji immediately leaned in close, just enough to not get into your personal bubble and picked up your hands.

With hearts in his eyes, he requested, "Do it to me."

Huh? You were confused, looking at him in concern.

"Do what?" You asked.

"The move you just did on that guy!"

That was an odd request. Sanji never wanted to fight or even spar with you, despite your insistence so for him to suddenly ask this...

"Are you sure?" You tried to confirm he was serious and if the way he was about to snap his neck with how hard he was nodding was not a confirmation, then you didn't know what was. Still, you didn't want to actually hurt him. "Alright, but I'm not going to hurt you. Let me know if something goes wrong, because you know I'm shit at patching up wounds and I will have to go get Chopper."

"Of course, my sweet," he swooned, swaying on his spot. Still confused, but not wanting to refuse without a valid reason, you backed up a bit to jump on him, smoothly bracketing Sanji's head between your thighs such that his face pressed against your stomach– and oh.

You suddenly realised why he wanted you to pull that move on him.

The blonde chef toppled backwards from the force too and now you were pretty much sitting on his face, both of you blushing heavily. Before you could say anything or move away though, blood spurt out of Sanji's nose and he fainted. You paused and stared at his blissed out face with a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment for a few seconds.

"Just for that, I'm not going to call Chopper. Stay conked out, hmph!"

You looked away, cheeks growing redder. He really had the nerve to ask that– shameless! But really, the worst part was that you didn't really mind it. It just felt like Sanji has unknowingly taken advantage of your huge crush on him. The only solace you had was that atleast no one was around to see this. Thinking so, you made to get off when Nami's voice made you freeze.

"Get a room, please, and don't forget to pay me for the bleach my eyes need."

°•❀•°

[maple-the-awesome]

Friend or Foe || Part 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairings: Four, Hyrule, Legend x GN Reader

Overview: Link visits an alternate world without its hero and, more importantly, a version of you without your Link. Unfortunately, it seems even the smallest of details can lead to disastrous results. In spirt of October and Halloween, I've decided to do a little evil prompt because none of the Links have enough emotional damage yet😈

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

Four has known you since childhood, both of your families having been good friends for generations. You've always been peas in a pot together with a level of closeness that results in a lot of ‘old married couple’ jokes. You're usually the first person Four returns to after his adventures, never sparing a single detail as he knows he can trust you with his life if it were to come down to it which makes this situation so perplexing...

This you is nothing like his dear friend back home. You don't have that same sweet smile that makes his heart do loops of delight, rather a wicked grin that makes his stomach turn in disgust. When he heard murmurs about an evil magic-wielder terrorizing this world, it would've been his last guess that such a person could look exactly like you - same face, same name, same everything!

"What an interesting assortment of weapons, especially this one!" Four bites back a snarl when this cursed version of you holds the Four Sword high into the sky with a teasing smirk, "It's practically dripping with magic. Where did you get it? ...Still not going to answer me? Oh, but you were so talkative earlier - what, with all your meaningless questions and desperate begging.”

Trapped behind cold iron bars, all Four can do is watch helplessly as you search through the rest of the items you’ve stolen from him, making little comments here and there which he refuses to acknowledge (he’s learned from Vaati that responses are only encouragement). The others should be here to rescue him soon anyway. In the meantime, he’s trying to make sense of this whole situation as he has been since you first caught him.

'This just can't be our flower. I refuse to believe it. They'd never be so cruel to us like this! They're our friend!' 

'Of course they aren’t, you idiot! There's no way they'd be evil at all! This scum is an imposter and the second we get out of this prison we'll teach them a lesson about why they shouldn’t dare tarnish an angel's name like -!'

'- Calm down. We're in a different version of Hyrule which means this is more than likely this kingdom’s version of -'

'- Hogwash! Don’t you dare finish that sentence! They'd never act like this even in a different world!'

'I don’t want to believe it either, however the fact of the matter is it isn’t impossible. Think about it. Everything about this world is similar to our own excluding our existence. There is no hero meaning we weren’t ever there to protect them. Did you think about that?'

'...No...'

'That's so sad!'

Four must agree with his arguing thoughts. Although this you isn't the one he has waiting for him back home, he can't help feeling some pity towards you, refusing to believe you could simply be born evil. Something led you down this path you currently trek, and maybe this world isn't necessarily within his range of responsibility, however he still feels a bit guilty for not being able to help any version of you, here or there.

Hyrule met you shortly after meeting Zelda which was natural considering you were the eldest child of the crown. He must admit he's unfortunately never gotten the chance to know you too well, seeing as you have so many responsibilities that keep you busy while he, himself, is often sidetracked venturing through a broken world, yet nevertheless, he does know you to be a kind and generous leader - someone he’s always admired very deeply which is why he’s having so much trouble accepting you could ever be like this…

This kingdom has a sort of sadness that flows throughout the dusty sky and crumbled grass. Legend mentioned something about visiting a kingdom like it before, although Hyrule wonders now if all aspects of the Vet's experiences would match. He would ask, however such a question wouldn't be appropriate at the moment given as both heroes have been brought to their knees, spears held close to their heads to keep them submissive (not that it gets rid of Legend's scowl).

When Hyrule first laid eyes on you while being forced him to take a knee in front of your throne, he had been relieved, so certain that you'd immediately wave off your hostile guards and take note of the obvious misunderstanding that has occurred, after all this traveler is a dear friend of yours who should be treated as such. Alas, Hyrule shivers instead, frozen under your cold gaze as you glare down upon Legend and him.

"These are the heroes you found? I thought they'd be taller - more a threat than little mice," You sigh boredly with your head rested against your hand, although you do take a second longer to admire Hyrule, smirking at the boy who unlike his feisty friend looks absolutely petrified to be in your presences. 

Pushing yourself off your throne, you approach the poor boy and kneel before him. Despite his attempt to flinch away, you still succeed in running your hand against his cheek, "...Oh, but you're a cutie, aren't you? A rare gem in a world so broken."

At least you're aware of the current status of this kingdom. Hyrule would like to think that with some bitterness in mind, however he actually manages to feel sympathetic while watching you wander back to your throne, not missing that frown upon your face. 

It’s then that he’s reminded of a story his friends and him were told upon arrival here - that this world’s hero had died tragically many years ago. There’s no evidence that this world’s current state is because of you which means you could’ve simply inherited a cursed throne and allowed your own heart to hardened under the depressing circumstances, a fate Hyrule fears might have easily occurred to his own version of you as well if not for the support you had received from your siblings and himself. If only you weren’t alone in this world. Maybe then you could have become a beloved queen here, too.

Legend denies that he ever knew you; it hurts too much to accept otherwise. For the short time that he had known you, you had been a light in his life, always so sweet and magical in a way that could lift even the darkest of thoughts. There's a side of him who wishes every night that he'll be blessed with a dream about you because much to his dismay, that's his only way of seeing you again. He'd give anything to meet you in person once more even if for just a second, but not like this...

He's trying hard to keep the scowl on his face - trying to act unintimated, trying to act annoyed - despite how much his heart is aching deep down. He can feel his eyes burning. He can taste iron as he bites down upon his lip, praying to Hylia he'll wake up any moment now.

Promptly after arriving in this Hyrule, the Chain had received several warnings from locals about a ‘demon’ which lurks in the night. They claim that the creature only ever appears in the shadows, preying upon weak minds and cursing them with cruel nightmares. 

Legend, of course, dismissed it all as a story meant to scare children, even going as far as to give Warrior a hard time for being jumpy while the group was setting up camp in a forest right outside of town. Unlike some of the others, Legend doesn’t care if the wind whispers or how certain trees around them look like faces, and he was actually sleeping quite well amongst it all until getting up to go to the bathroom. 

Walking back into camp, he had been alarmed to notice a cloaked figure hovering right above Wild, their hand outstretched towards his head as the Champion shifted and whimpered in his sleep. Everyone else appeared to already be in similar states of distress, even Time’s stone expression crinkled in pain.

"HEY! GET AWAY FROM THEM!" Legend was quick to shout, catching the monster's attention before drawing his sword which he had thankfully taken with him earlier. He planned on fighting off the beast then hopefully waking the others from their nightmares, yet instead he found himself trapped in one of his own when the cloaked figure removed their hood.

Now he can't move, frozen in terror as he tries desperately to shake the feeling...No...No, it can't be you. This is a trick - an illusion the monster has created to mess with him. You would never stain your beautiful face with such a wicked smile. You'd never hurt anything or anyone the way this thing already has!

Regardless of his doubt, Legend can only shake as you approach a lot faster than he can process, likely aided by your ability to effortlessly float his way. Whether due to a spell of yours or a result of his own weak will, he doesn't jerk away like he wants to when you run a hand over his cheek, cooing in a mocking way, "Aw, get a lot of nightmares, do you honey?"

"N-No. Not at all," He manages, at last finding the strength to swing your way which is an action helped by closing his eyes. If he can't see your face, he won't have to battle his concern over hurting you; he can better convince himself that you aren't truly here as you've never been.

"Liar," You easily dodge him, using merely two fingers to grab his sword midair. Keeping it in place, you lean forward, your breath making his legs wobble as the tears finally begin to prick in the corners of his eyes, "I can read your thoughts - see your fears…Oh, but this is far worse than any nightmare you've had, isn't it, my dear? Far worse than any I could bestow upon you with my magic. Poor thing. You miss them terribly, don't you? If that's the case, then you shouldn’t avoid me so. Soak it up. Remember what I look like. After all, it's the last chance you'll ever get to reach out and touch me."

[starstruckkittensweets]

"Promise Me" | Gojo x Reader

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Words: 2.3k

A/N: no one talk to me, this is my way of coping with the latest chapter. This week is not a fun one for us Gojo lovers. Also this scenario has probably been written a thousand times at this point (thanks a lot Gege) but here's my two cents on the matter (go figure, my first official Gojo post and he's fuckin dead)

Warnings: JJK 236 SPOILERS, mentions of fem!reader, nightmares, brief mentions of violence/gore, pet names (baby, sweets, pretty girl), very self-indulgent and I apologize for that

Nightmares are a common occurrence in your line of work; you knew that even before you agreed to take the job. Usually you can stand them when they hit. Staring into the shadows of your bedroom, wide eyes raking over every little thing inside, too scared to even move a muscle. Knowing that, once you do, the illusion will vanish. The fear will go away, bit by bit, until you feel comfortable enough to fall back asleep.

Till the next morning, when you can’t even remember what you were so afraid of.

But this time is different. Your body isn’t frozen at all; you don’t snuggle deeper into the blankets, praying that they’ll be enough to protect you from whatever creatures lurk in the night. In fact they’re suffocating—but even when you throw them off you’re still heaving like a madman. Cold sweat clamming up your skin. Hands trembling at your sides. Eyes nearly bursting from your skull when you realize the other side of the bed is empty.

Empty, empty—where is he? Where did he go?

Was your dream not actually a dream after all?

You’re shaking so hard when you force your way out of bed. Nearly toppling over your own two feet as you stumble out of the bedroom. The door’s cracked open, but there aren’t any lights on, where is he, where the fuck is he?!

Another step, round the corner, and suddenly you smack face first into something hard. A soft oof reaches your ears, and through the darkness and the veil of your tears, you can barely make out the two blue lights glowing at you from above.

“Whoa, careful! Sorry about that, almost didn’t see you there. What’re you doing up so late, baby?”

Your eyes are still blurry, no matter how many times you blink. But you can still see him, his hair messy from sleep, wearing nothing but a pair of old sweatpants. He offers a lazy smile, but it drops almost instantly when he sees the tears spilling down your burning cheeks.

“…Hey, what’s wrong?”

Maybe it’s the tender tone of his voice, the soft way he speaks those three simple words. Or maybe it’s the fact you can see his eyes dim ever so slightly, signaling he’s turned off his technique for the moment. Or maybe it’s just knowing that he’s here, still alive and breathing and in one fucking piece, that makes you lose control. (Not that you had very much to begin with, but still.)

He visibly jolts at the shrill wail that rips from your throat, his whole body rigid as you throw yourself against his chest. Tiny arms wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his muscular back. Almost as though you’re scared he’ll disappear, anchoring him to you with every bit of strength you have.

What does he do? You’re obviously in distress, but why? He’d just left to get a glass of water, he’d been gone for less than five minutes! And now you’re blubbering like a child into his bare chest, sobbing so loudly he’s surprised none of your neighbors have come banging on your door.

“Baby, come on,” he tries, but the pet name only seems to make you cry harder. He winces before taking hold of both your shoulders. He doesn’t bother trying to pry you away; no need to make you even more upset. “You gotta tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

Damn it, everything he’s saying is just making it worse. He hates seeing you cry like this. So tiny and frail, curling into his chest, incoherent words and noises spilling from your lips. You won’t answer him or let go of his body, no matter how many times he tries to convince you.

Does he just ride it out and let you finish? What if you pass out? Will you still remember any of this by the time you wake up tomorrow? Was it something he said earlier that made you this upset? He wracks his brain, trying to see if any of his earlier teasing struck a nerve within you. He doesn’t recall saying anything that could prompt this kind of reaction out of you…

Then again, what could? You’re his girl, his other half (as he’s quick to remind you and everyone else within earshot). Strong but soft, a capable sorcerer climbing the ranks with ease. You have an unshakeable character, sticking true to your values and morals no matter what. It’s one of the reasons why he fell in love with you in the first place. Not just anything could resort you to a crying, trembling mess in his arms.

He sucks in a deep breath and tries again. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. I promise I’ll make it all better, I swear!”

And he’s just about to bribe you with some of the sweets he’s stashed away in the kitchen when you lift your head from his chest. Cheeks hot and tearstained, and yet you’re still so beautiful.

“S-sorry,” you barely manage to choke out. Your throat’s practically on fire, and you can already feel a monster of a headache coming on. “I…I had…”

He doesn’t say anything. He simply wipes your tears away with his thumb, waiting patiently for you to finish.

“…I had a bad dream…”

It sounds so fucking childish when you say it out loud. Should’ve just kept your mouth shut, gone back to bed once you saw he was okay. What do you expect he’ll do about it, huh? Not like he can erase your bad memories, no matter how strong he might be.

But that hole in your chest is still there, even after all that crying—

And you can’t help it anymore. You press your palms to your face, desperately trying to rid your fact of all those tears. Wanting to save at least some of your dignity before the night’s over.

A pair of warm hands close over your wrists, his touch surprisingly gentle as he pulls your hands away. Exposing your teary, blubbering face to those beautiful blue eyes. The mere thought makes you want to cry all over again.

“C’mon now, you’re too pretty to cry like that.” The corner of his mouth is quirked up in a smile, his messy hair hanging over his eyes as he tilts his head to meet your gaze. He catches another tear on his thumb, making sure to wipe it away before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I don’t like seeing you all upset like that.”

“B-but”—oh fuck, here you go again—“you were…you were dead!”

You can still remember everything so clearly. The blood trickling from his mouth. The glazed look in those dull eyes. How fucking fast it all seemed to happen. One moment he was fine, breathing and smiling as usual, and the next he was staring up at the sky. You didn’t even hear his body drop to the ground.

So much blood, it’s not supposed to be out of your body like that, why couldn’t I save you, why couldn’t—

“I’m sorry!” you blurt out, even as he takes you in his arms and pulls you against his chest. “I wasn’t enough to save you! You were dead and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it!”

You don’t even know what you’re saying at this point, but for whatever reason, talking about this seems to help. Your chest feels a bit lighter than it did before, even if your heart’s as heavy as a stone.

“You’re not supposed to die! And I know that’s stupid of me to say, everyone dies at some point, but you always say you’re the strongest! No one can hurt you, even if they tried! So why—”

Your voice catches in your throat, tears still streaming down your face. He still holds you close, one arm around your waist, his other hand resting on the back of your head.

“…Why did you leave me? You said you’d never leave me, no matter what! But you did—and I let it happen—I’m so fucking sorry, Satoru, I just—”

You’re running out of steam, you can feel it in your bones. Too exhausted to cry anymore, probably too burnt out to even walk back to your room. But before you can even try he’s lifting your face in his hands, tracing your swollen lips with his thumb.

Smirking down at you like there’s nothing wrong in the world.

“Why are you sorry, sweets? If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Sorry that dream version of me was such a cheap imitation.” He rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Like I’d let myself get killed like that.”

“S-Satoru, I’m serious!”

“And so am I.” And you can see it in his face—the way his eyes practically burn into yours, his mouth set in a tight line, his jaw clenched even when he forces out the words. “I said I’d never leave you, right?”

You sniffle out, “Y-yeah…”

“And I meant it. So no matter how many bad dreams you might have of me,” he curls his hands around your thighs and lifts you up effortlessly, securing your body against his chest, “just know that they’re dreams. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Slowly, he begins to carry you back to your room. Your arms find their way around his neck, fingers burying their way into his soft white hair. You’ll never get over how strong he is, how amazing he is—and how of all the people in the world, he chose to share the rest of his life with you.

Not strong enough to save himself from dying.

Your throat fills with bile at the thought, even as he settles you back down against the mattress. Back in the place where your nightmare occurred, where you saw his body and all that blood—

“Don’t leave me!”                                      

“Baby, I wasn’t even planning on it.” Damn, this nightmare really messed with your head, huh? “I’m staying right here with you, alright?”

You won’t disappear on me again? You won’t leave me alone like you did in that dream, right?

He seems to see right through you, given the soft expressing in those dazzling blue eyes. “I promise, I won’t leave your side. Not tonight, not ever.”

It takes a few moments for the two of you to get situated in bed; Satoru ends up having to do most of the work, since your arms and legs are still trembling uncontrollably. But the second the blankets are back around you, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest. Long legs tangling with yours, his breath warm against the crown of your head.

Lips soft as they press a thousand kisses to your forehead.

“I don’t know what kind of curse you dreamt of, but if I ever came across something like it one of these days…” He leans down, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “…I’d win, hands down.”

“You’d better.” Your head’s pounding something fierce, every bone in your body screaming for some proper rest. And it starts to feel normal, being wrapped up in Satoru’s arms. “…Otherwise, I’d have to kick your ass.”

He lets out a laugh before nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. His long eyelashes tickle your skin, his lips sweet and warm when they finally find your own.

“I’m sure you would. Although, I’d never let that happen; I’ll make sure to win every single fight, I swear! Don’t wanna make my pretty girl worry about me.”

But you’re always going to worry about him. It’s in your blood, comes with the territory of keeping this relationship alive. And maybe it’s stupid, maybe he is strong enough to never have to worry about himself in a fight. But there’s always going to be that part of you that wonders if he’s going to make it home tonight.

You tilt your head, eager to taste his lips again. Like your life depends on it, and the thought makes him smirk.

“Aww, can’t get enough of me, sweets?”

“…Shut up.”

But he knows he’s right. And you know he’s right. Doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud, though.

“You know I meant it, right?” Suddenly he’s holding your face again, brushing his nose against your own. His voice strangely soft as he leans in close, warm breath ghosting over your face. “’M not leaving you. Never, ever, ever!”

That gets a smile out of you. Weak and pitiful, but a smile nonetheless. At least he’s earnest. At the end of the day, he means well when it comes to you.

“I know you won’t. …So thank you.” You return his hug, sneaking your hand between your bodies and pressing it against his chest. Your throat growing tight when you feel the familiar b-bmp of his heart against your trembling palm. “Thank you for staying with me.”

There’s that tiny voice in the back of your head, urging you not to listen to such pointless promises. Knowing that deep down, neither of you can stop death when it comes knocking at your door. No matter how much power he possesses, even Satoru Gojo can’t resist death’s clutches when they finally sink their claws into him.

But there’s time for you to deal with all of that in the future. Right here, right now, he’s safe and sound in your arms. Messy white hair tickling your neck as he nibbles on the skin of your earlobe. Making you giggle as he brushes the rest of your tears away.

And thanking whatever deity may be listening above that you get to spend just one more night with him, wrapped up in his arms with his lips against your own.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Daddy Knows Best, Part IV

Title: Daddy Knows Best, Part IV 

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: StepDad!August Walker x StepDaughter!Reader  

Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Fallout 

Word Count: 3.3K 

Summary: August Walker and your father were once friends. One mission, a single decision, made them enemies. August decides he needs to get his revenge. And what better way, than to become your new Daddy? 

Chapter Summary: Daddy and Babydoll deal with the police, and attempt to move on after the tragedy.

Warnings: pet names (Daddy, Babydoll, babygirl), age gap (the reader is 18, August is in his late-30s), loss of a parent (mother), police interrogation, Dom/sub vibes, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, dead dove: do not eat 

A/N: This is different from my usual fics. This would be considered dark!fic in every way possible. If you read the warnings and still choose to read, you are making your own decision. No one is forcing you to read this. This is an entirely self-indulgent therapeutic fic. Enjoy! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @saradika 

Support/Reblog banner by me 

Cover Art by me 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist 

You wake in your bedroom, the early afternoon sun shining through the curtains. You roll over on your side and expect to see Daddy but he’s not in the room. Deciding to take a shower and start the day, you rise and undress.  

As you wash yourself, you are suddenly hit with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness and loss. For a few moments, you were free. And then you remembered. 

Mommy’s dead. 

You saw her lifeless body floating in the swimming pool. That vision will probably never leave your brain. The last memory of your mother is of seeing her face down. The crystal-clear water of the pool marred with the sight of her. 

Even though you had a rough relationship with her, you still mourn the loss of your mother. With your dad out of the picture, you only had one parent in your life. And now she has been taken away from you. 

The water in the shower had gone a bit cold so you rinse yourself off and grab your towel to dry yourself. You dress in a black crop top with a sleeveless black plaid A-line dress on top of it. Pulling on some black thigh-high stockings and a pair of black platform Mary Janes, you embody the look of the mournful daughter. 

You look over yourself in the mirror and try smiling at yourself. Instead, a few fat tears roll down your cheeks and you let them fall before giving up on trying to fake happiness. Wiping your face, you settle for going to find Daddy. 

Once you leave your bedroom, you walk downstairs and are surprised to see that Daddy isn’t alone. Both men stand when you reach the bottom of the stairs, but the woman stays seated with a small smile on her face. Daddy holds out an arm for you to come join them. 

“Come on over, don't be shy. This is Detective Marshall. He came to talk about what happened to your mother,” He nods at my words, “And this is Rachel, she’s a psychologist who works with Detective Marshall.” 

I watch as Babydoll walks over and stands next to me, she greets our guests and then sits leaving space between us on the couch. That’s my good girl, don’t give them the chance to question our relationship. I sit down and gesture for Marshall to continue. 

“I think I’d like to continue with you in private, if that’s alright Mr. Walker. Perhaps Rachel may speak with your stepdaughter?” Marshall suggests and I agree to his terms. 

“Why don’t you take Rachel up to your room so you two can have a little chat?” I insist, patting Babydoll’s knee softly. 

Once she nods, she and Rachel make their way upstairs and I hear the door to her bedroom shut. I look back to Marshall and he is scribbling in his little green notebook. His eyes are harder when our gazes meet. 

“Just a few more questions and I will be out of your hair, Mr. Walker.”  

“Please, call me August. Whatever I can do to help.” I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and my hands clasped together. 

“I appreciate that, August. Uh, so you say that your stepdaughter was the first to see your girlfriend’s body. Where were you at this time?” 

“I was bringing in my luggage from my car. I made it to the kitchen and noticed the open patio door. When I walked toward it, I heard her scream and caught her as she passed out. I saw her mother in the pool and realized that she wasn’t moving. After putting my stepdaughter in her bedroom, I called the police.” I kept my face neutral, but my eyes welled up a bit and I blinked away tears. 

“So, you and your stepdaughter weren’t home when your girlfriend was killed. You two had been on a trip?” 

“Yes. I had been on a trip for work, but my stepdaughter didn’t want to be here alone with her mother, so I brought her with me. Their relationship has been a bit strained since the divorce about a year ago. She misses her father and I, no matter how hard I try, am barely a substitute for him.” That’s it, play the role of a loving stepfather. 

"You mentioned you work for the CIA, Special Activities. Is it safe for you to take your stepdaughter along on business trips in your line of work?” 

“She was never in any danger. No one knew our location or that she was with me. The safe house we stayed in was discreet and out of the way. The only time she was left alone was this morning, and it was just for a couple of hours. I’m sure you understand I can’t divulge the details of my assignment. But you are more than welcome to check in with my superior, Erika Sloane.” I fish her card out of my wallet and hand it to Marshall. 

“Thank you, August. As soon as Rachel is ready, we’ll be out of your way.” 

No sooner do those words leave his mouth, than Rachel is coming down the stairs with Babydoll in tow. I notice the smiles on their faces and wonder what they got up to while they spoke. As they come back into the living room, Rachel stands next to Marshall and Babydoll stands near me. 

“I think that’s everything. We’ll be in touch, August. Thank you for your time.” Marshall reaches out to shake my hand and he smiles at Babydoll. 

For a split second, my face betrays me as I slightly scowl at him smiling at her. But in the same breath, I steady myself and look at Rachel before shaking her hand. 

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” Rachel tilts her head at Babydoll and touches her shoulder. 

I walk the detective and his partner out and once the door is closed, I turn and make my way back to the couch. My perfect little one sits with her leg under her, her big doe eyes settling on me. 

“So, sweet girl, what did you and Rachel talk about?” 

You took Rachel into your room and closed the door behind her. She looked around and smiled at the various photos and knickknacks you had scattered about the room. She sat on the edge of your bed and patted the space next to her. You sat down and she began to ask questions right away. 

“So, you and your stepdad seem close. What was your relationship like with your mother?” 

“My mom and I were never all that close. I was a lot closer with my Nanny, while she was here. Um, I guess I’m more of a Daddy’s girl. Mom was never satisfied with me, I don’t think. She always wanted me to be better. At sports, at school, at everything. She wasn’t my biggest fan. And then after the divorce, I felt even more distant from her. Dad was gone and I was left with her. Then August started dating Mom and it was weird in the beginning, but he ended up being a nice guy. And he listened to me, and he would stand up for me when Mom was on my case. I didn’t hate my mom. I just wished she liked me.” You looked away from Rachel to wipe a single tear that threatened to fall from your eye. 

“Seems like August was your knight in shining armor.”  

“Um, yeah. He cares about me. He cared about my mom too. He doesn’t treat me like a kid like Mom did. I don’t mean to make my mom seem all that bad. She was doing the best she could, I know that. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. I hope whoever did this to her rots in a jail cell forever. Sorry, I’m just angry and upset. My emotions have been a bit off the rails.” 

“It’s perfectly normal to feel sad or livid or even bitter about death. With your relationship with your mother, I am not surprised your emotions are unsure of what to do. Sometimes, we might even feel like a weight is lifted off our shoulders when a certain person in our life is gone. Nothing of what you’re feeling is wrong.” Rachel tilted her head at you and smiled.  

“Thanks.” You returned the smile and went back to fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

"Do you feel safe here with August? I only ask as a precaution. Having you in a place where you feel safe is most important.” She put a hand over yours and you froze. What did she mean by that? 

“I feel more than safe with him. He’s never given me a reason not to trust him.” You suddenly felt defensive over August and you tried to keep yourself calm. 

“Good. I’m glad you have him to help you through this trying time. But if you ever need to talk, or even if you just need someone to listen, you can call me.” She pulled a business card out of her pocket and handed it to you. 

“I don’t know if I’ll have anything to talk about but thank you.” 

“Maybe something that you can’t talk to August about. Something that maybe only another woman would understand?”  

“Oh. Ok. Um, I will let you know if anything comes up.” You stood and put the card on your desk and Rachel stood as well. 

“Good. Any time, day or night. I’ll be available at that number. Use it whenever you need me. I think that’s all I need. Why don’t we go and rejoin the others?” Rachel went to your bedroom door and let you walk out first. 

You’re not quite sure about how to feel about your interaction, but at least you felt like you defended August well and even made a new friend. She seemed nice enough anyway. 

After she tells me everything that she and Rachel talk about, I feel a bit more at ease. Less like the detective thinks I murdered her mother, but more like his partner thinks something is going on between me and Babydoll. 

Which there is, but she doesn’t need to know that. 

Even if she did know, it isn’t illegal. She’s 18, a consenting adult, and she’s well taken care of. Not that I need to explain myself to anyone. 

“Babydoll, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything at all. Daddy is here to listen and to keep you safe.”  

“I know, Daddy. There is something...but, I don’t know.” She ducks her head and looks to the floor. 

I put a finger under her chin, lifting it so she can look at me. “Anything, Babydoll. You ask and I’ll make sure it gets done right away.” 

“Daddy, I...don’t want to live here anymore. All I can see around me is bad memories with Mom. Or old memories with...my father. And neither of them is in my life anymore. Does it make me a bad person that all I wanna do is move on? I feel weird even being in the living room, so close to where Mom died.” She plays with her fingers and looks down again. 

“Let me make a few calls, Babydoll. I’ll see if we can be out of the house by week’s end, alright?”  

“Thank you, Daddy. This means a lot.” She stands and wraps her arms around my neck in a tight embrace. I hug her back and lift her off the ground a bit and she giggles. The tuneful sound tickles my ears, and I am happy to be the cause of it. 

I kiss her cheek and send her up to her room to deflate. In the next few hours, I have a house lined up for us on the nicer side of town. Three bedrooms, three baths, finished basement, big backyard with an in-ground pool. A perfect place to start a new life. 

By the end of the week, we are finishing up moving all our stuff over to the new house. Other than a small crying fit that Babydoll has while she and I go through her parents’ belongings and decide what to keep and what to donate, the move was mostly hassle-free. 

One morning after a run to clear my head, I was surprised to have a visit from Detective Marshall, and this time he only wanted to talk to me. I let him in and ask Babydoll to give us some privacy. We talk for a short while about moving from the old house and how Babydoll is doing. I ask him to cut to the chase and he nods and tells me Babydoll’s father’s body has been found.  

He was discovered in a hotel room with substances in his system, along with a suicide note that included his confession to killing his ex-wife. At that bombshell, I’m visibly unnerved. Marshall reaches out a hand to my shoulder and apologizes for having to deliver this information.  

He makes a sort-of backhanded comment that my former partner must not have liked that I took his place in his family. I responded by saying it wasn’t appropriate to make assumptions about dead men. Besides, as his ex-wife told me many times, they were rocky well before I stepped in. Marshall also stated that since Babydoll’s father had confessed to the murder this case was now officially closed, and we could go ahead with a burial ceremony. 

I thanked him for relaying the news and escorted him to the front door. Before he left, he made sure I knew he would be keeping an eye on us. Seems the detective doesn’t trust me. I couldn’t care less, honestly. Let him try and pin this all on me. 

I mean, he could pin it all on me if he wanted to do so. It's not like he would be wrong in doing so.  

But I covered all my tracks and sealed them airtight. And with my record, they’d be ridiculous to come after me now that they have a confession and another dead body on their hands. 

I wait until the detective drives off in his large black Ford F-Series, leave my sneakers at the door, and then make my way up to find Babydoll. I find her sprawled across the bed in the Master bedroom, sketching something in her notebook. Technically, this is my bedroom and hers is down the hall, but she sleeps with me most nights. 

“What are you up to, Babydoll?” I ask, coming around the bed to sit next to her and peer into her notebook. 

She shuts it before I can get a good look inside, “It’s a surprise, Daddy. You can’t see it yet.” 

“Oh, I'm not allowed to see it yet, huh? Well, I guess Babydoll isn’t allowed to cum tonight then. How about that?”  

Fuck, I loved to tease her. She always made the cutest little pouty faces. 

“Daddy! No! Please may I cum tonight? I’ll do anything. Just, I was making you something special and I don’t wanna show you ‘til it’s finished. I don’t wanna ruin the surprise. Please?” There goes that little pouty lip of hers, it could make me agree to anything. 

“Ok, fine, Babydoll. But you’re gonna cum when Daddy says to.” 

“I can be a good girl for you, Daddy. I promise.” 

“There’s my good girl,” I lay back against the pillows after I shuck my muscle tank, joggers, and socks, “Show me that sweet little pussy while Daddy gets his dick ready for you.” I take out my length and start to stroke it while she pulls her panties down, laying on her back so she can show me how she plays with herself. 

Within minutes, her cunt is making those glorious squelching sounds I love so much while she fingers herself for me. I am beyond hard at this point and I am salivating just to get inside her.  

“Come up here and lay back Babydoll. Let Daddy have his turn now.”

She removes her fingers from her wet snatch and slides next to me. I take off my boxers and my cock springs up and bounces against my abdomen. Leaning over her, I position my dick at her entrance and slowly slide in thanks to the wetness she has accumulated. 

“Fuck, Babydoll, you are so tight. You feel so perfect around me.” I don’t stop until my balls are against her ass and our hips are flush together. I’ve molded this pussy to fit my shaft perfectly. Pulling out, I slam back in and am rewarded with her angelic little whimpers. 

I don’t necessarily need to last long; I just need to make sure I get her to her peak before I reach mine. I find a steady rhythm thrusting in and out of her tight heat that has her keening in my ear. Her arms are around my neck and her legs are wrapped around my waist. 

I can feel her core tightening around me, and I know she is close. Reaching a hand between us, I use my thumb to flick against her clit to push her over the edge. Her moans tell me everything I need to know. 

“Cum for me, Babydoll. Soak my fucking dick, sweet baby.” Not even a second later, I feel the tell-tale signs of her orgasm as her folds flutter around me and the dam breaks loose. She screams out and I can’t help myself. 

I fuck into her until I feel my balls draw up and then I slam into her heat one last time. I swear I was going to pull out and I almost did, but the warmth and the tight fit and my exhaustion from the run got the better of me. I came deep inside her as my cockhead sat against her cervix. I didn’t give a fuck about anything except the notion of her cunt holding me so perfectly as I blew my load. 

The only sounds in the room were of us catching our breath.  

Once I could move again, I lean up on my knees and pull back from where I collapsed on top of her. Holding her legs open, I let my length slip out. Soon, my massive load starts to rush out and I push all of it back inside her as she lazily smiles up at me. I smile at her then pull her into the bathroom with me to shower. 

She’s barely able to stand in the shower and I mostly hold her steady. We both get clean enough and I help her dry off then dry myself off and we make it back to the bedroom and lay back down in bed. I tell myself it is best to talk to her now about all this instead of waiting and possibly upsetting her. 

“Alright, Babydoll. Daddy just creampied you, I didn’t pull out this time. I came inside you. Now, in the morning, Daddy is gonna run and get you a plan B pill so that you don’t get pregnant. But I think it might be time that we get you on birth control so that Daddy doesn't have to worry about this kind of thing in the future.” I speak slowly and clearly so she knows that I have her best interest at heart. 

“Ok, Daddy. Can we take a nap now? I’m exhausted.” She is already rolling over on her side and throwing an arm across my chest. 

“Yeah, Babydoll, let’s take a nap.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and kiss the top of her head. 

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking of her tummy round and swollen with my kid and her tits heavy with milk. But I know that’s just emotion talking. As much as I want to get her pregnant, right now it is far too soon after everything with her parents. 

Right? 

Part V (coming soon) 

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to get out, loves. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this. I still have more in me, I think. 

**Tag List** 

@winterschildren8 @raccoon-eyed-rebel @viking-raider @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @livisss @randomweirdoss @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @mrs-solo-walker [Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁] 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Lonelier in Misery

Part 2 of Lonely in Misery

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!paramedic!reader

Summary: After you first date with Tim, you decide to keep your relationship from Nolan and Bailey for as long as possible.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

A/N: Titles are hard sometimes. This is one of those times.

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

The morning after your first date with Tim, feigning your continued misery isn’t hard. You miss him already, even though it’s been less than twelve hours since he kissed you and turned your world on its axis. He changed everything, and you never want to go back to how it was before. Now your absent smile and downcast demeanor are because you miss Tim; you miss someone rather than not having anyone. It’s a nice change, but you’re still craving another kiss.

When you arrive at work, Bailey runs across the station to meet you. She pulls you into a tight hug, and you slowly wrap your arms around her in return.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I thought it would work out with Tim.”

“Oh,” you murmur as you realize she’s still making assumptions based on your text from last night. “Right.”

“Don’t take this as a sign or anything, though. I promise I will do better next time! Just tell me what you did and didn’t like.”

“Bailey, you don’t have to set me up again.”

“No, you need someone. I hate seeing you like this. Being lonely sucks, and with our job, we deserve to have a person to go home to.”

“I agree, but a blind date isn’t-“

“You have to give me another chance. Nolan has more friends, plenty that aren’t cops, so I can find you the right guy.”

Bailey turns when the battalion chief calls her name, and you’re left alone again. You’ll have to convince her not to set you up on another date later. The problem is that you can’t tell her why, not unless you want her to insert herself into your relationship with Tim. Bailey is great, she’s your best friend, but she meddles.

You sigh as you pull your phone out. Tim has responded to your good morning text, so you send a quick warning: Bailey wants to set me up on another date since last night ‘didn’t work out’

Tim answers quickly, and his message brings a smile to your face.

Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle all the dates from now on.

While you avoid answering Bailey’s questions, Tim is dealing with his own line of inquiries about the date last night.

“How did it go? You like her, right? I know you’ve met before,” Nolan asks quickly.

“It was fine,” Tim answers.

“Fine… Is that it? I don’t get more details?”

Tim shrugs and repeats, “It went fine.”

Nolan tosses his hands up in exasperation. Tim won’t elaborate, he already knows that, but he needs to know if he and Bailey were right about their idea that you and Tim would be perfect for one another.

“Sergeant Grey!” Nolan calls. “Bradford and I can deliver the safety brochures to the police station.”

“You want to do a rookie’s assignment for them?” Grey asks, his skepticism audible.

“Yes, sir.”

“Yeah. I know you’re just going to visit Bailey, though, you’re not smooth, Nolan.”

“Never expected to be. Thank you, sir!” Nolan turns to Tim to say, “Let’s go.”

“Why?” Tim asks.

“Because I want to hear from both of you. Fine isn’t good enough.”

Tim grumbles as he follows Nolan to the shop. “I’m driving,” he yells when he catches up.

You’re restocking an equipment kit near the open garage door when a police car parks outside. As you set your gear aside, you see Tim exit the driver’s seat. You smile at him, but he shakes his head just before you see Nolan on the other side. It’s not a friendly visit, then.

“Good morning,” Tim greets. “We are here to drop off these public safety cards.”

“Great. Thanks,” you reply as you take them.

Your fingers brush over Tim’s and you feel the same jolt as when he kissed you last night.

“Where’s Bailey?” Nolan asks.

“Kitchen, I think,” you answer.

He nods to thank you, then walks past the fire engines to find Bailey. You raise your brows and look at Tim, but he just sighs. It’s not far-fetched to assume Nolan gave him treatment similar to the one you got from Bailey.

“Alright,” Nolan calls. He returns with Bailey beside him, and you sigh with Tim this time. “Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

“What happened last night, Tim?” Bailey asks. “You get to the restaurant, and?”

“She’s not who I expected,” Tim answers. He glances at you quickly, and you immediately decide to play along.

“Exactly,” you agree. “Blind date usually implies that you don’t know the person. We’ve met before.”

“Okay, but there’s no animosity or anything. You get along,” Nolan argues. “So, why’d you leave just as sad as when you got there?”

“Because I was still lonely,” you answer.

It’s not a lie. Neither you nor Tim will lie, but you’re going to answer the questions without admitting that they were right. They’ll never let you live it down if they can take credit for your relationship with Tim.

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t enjoy yourselves,” Bailey says. “But your relationships are your decisions. And I already have another guy lined up that I want you to meet.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Tim winks at you before you speak. He told you not to worry about it, so you won’t.

“We need to get back to the station if you’re done with the interrogation,” Tim tells Nolan.

“Sure, yeah,” Nolan responds.

You wave discreetly as Tim leaves, and your internal countdown to when you’ll see him again resumes.

As you walk out of the fire station after your shift ends, your phone rings.

“Hi,” you answer.

“Hi,” Tim repeats. “Are you off?”

“I am. I’m leaving right now.”

“Then you should come over for dinner.”

“I’d love that.”

Tim texts you his address, and you smile for the entire trip to his house. When he opens the door and pulls you into a hug, you feel complete again.

“Whoa, it smells amazing in here. Are you cooking?” you ask.

“Maybe,” Tim answers. “That depends on if you have any stereotypical views that I can’t because I’m a man and a cop.”

“I think you can do everything and look good doing it,” you reply happily.

“Then, yes, I’m cooking. And thank you.”

You follow Tim into the kitchen and settle at his side as he finishes preparing the meal. Everything looks great, but you’d do just about anything as long as you were with Tim.

“I’m sorry if I pushed everything too far today. I know we don’t want them in our business, but if you want me to stop covering things up, I will,” Tim offers.

“You didn’t go too far. I thought it was kind of fun. Plus, I like being with you, even if we are lying to my best friend.”

“Lying,” Tim scoffs.

“By omission, yeah.”

Tim rolls his eyes but tugs you closer to kiss you. His hands rest on your cheeks and as you move with him, you know that it is impossible to feel sad or lonely around Tim Bradford.

Two days later, you find yourself pacing beside your ambulance. Tim texted this morning, just: I won’t answer for a while.

There hasn’t been anything on the news or the radio channels about big police operations, so you’re left to worry about him with nothing more to go on. You try to convince yourself that he’s just in a meeting or on patrol with someone, so he can’t use his phone, but then your mind wanders to a dangerous situation where using his phone could get him killed.

“Oh no,” Bailey murmurs. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” you answer, snapping yourself out of your thoughts. “I’m just stressing. For no reason.”

“Get your stuff.”

“What? Why?”

“You need a distraction, and John Nolan is my favorite distraction. Tag along with me?”

You consider it for a moment. If you stay here, you’ll just be worried and alone. “Yes, please,” you decide.

When Bailey parks at the Mid-Wilshire station, you follow her inside and force yourself not to check your phone again. Tim will reach out when he can. Someone calls your name, and both you and Bailey stop.

“Hi, Detective Lopez,” you greet when you see Angela.

She hugs you tightly as she says, “Stop, it’s Angela. Especially now that you’re dating my BFF.”

“What?” Bailey interrupts.

Angela’s eyes widen, and she whispers, “I’m so sorry. I thought everyone knew. He told me, so I just assumed.”

Bailey says your name and points at you, ready to accuse you of lying to her and keeping secrets. Before she can, Nolan yells, “Why?!” from somewhere else in the station.

A few seconds later, he walks into the bullpen with Tim following closely behind him. Tim is talking, sternly and meanly, based on his stance. Nolan sees you and Bailey and quickens his pace.

“Bailey,” he begins.

“I know!” she replies. “They’re liars.”

“Why would you lie about that?” Nolan asks.

Tim steps to your side as you answer, “Technically, we didn’t lie. We answered your questions.”

“You just didn’t ask the right questions,” Tim agrees. “Which is part of your job, Nolan.”

“No, no, no. Don’t make this about me,” Nolan argues.

“Wait, so then are you going out again?” Bailey asks.

“And did you actually consider that to be a date? Enjoy it and everything?” Nolan adds.

Tim takes your hand as they continue asking questions, and you wave kindly to Angela as he leads you away. You smile as you follow him blindly. Once he has you away from the bullpen and the endless questions, he stops and pulls you close.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “I’ve been worried.”

“I’m sorry. I got called into a meeting to consult on a UC operation. Everything is confidential, so I couldn’t have my phone on me.”

“I’m not mad. I feel much better now that I know you’re okay.”

“It’s Friday,” he reminds you. “We have another date tonight.”

You nod, and Tim moves his hands, one on your waist and one on your jaw. He dips his chin and kisses you in the empty hallway, and you wonder what did it feel like to be miserable again?

[asirensrage]

Limerence

Title: Limerence

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Rating: T?

Pairing: Haitani Rindou x Unnamed!Undescribed!FemaleOC

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Swearing. Slight obsession. A little stalking. Voyerism? Unbeta'd

Summary: It feels like forever since he’s seen her like this. Maybe that’s because of juvie but…he’s missed it. He doesn’t even know her name. 

Notes: This is the cutest thing I've written in a long time. I hope you enjoy it. I did. It's from his pov. Please let me know what you think.

TR masterlist

“You staring at her again?”

“Fuck off,” he says, not looking back towards his brother. He’s leaning against the window slightly, gaze soft as he watches her in her apartment. They’ve lived across from each other for years. He can hear the soft thump of the bass of the music she’s blasting. It’s not loud enough for him to make out what song it is, but she’s jumping around and dancing, singing along as she cooks. It feels like forever since he’s seen her like this. Maybe that’s because of juvie but…he’s missed it. He doesn’t even know her name. 

His brother leans in, face next to his, looking to where his gaze is lingering. “She’s still cute. You think she knows she has a stalker?”

Rindou shoves Ran away. “Fuck off,” he snarls. “I’m not a stalker.”

“No? You’ve been obsessed with her since you first noticed her.” 

He tries not to flush in embarrassment. Of course Ran knew that. His brother knew everything that went on in Rindou’s life and it was both amazing and awful. The two of them did everything together but this…this was something that was only Rindou’s. At least it was supposed to be.

Rindou gets up, moving away from the window, despite the fact that his mind is still on the way she moves so freely. Her blinds are always open during the day as if she has no care that people can see her. He wants to know what clubs she goes to, if he can find a way to meet her naturally on the street. He wants to feel her pressed up against him, smiling at him the way she does as her pet. He wants to know what she’s like in real life…if she’s as outgoing in real life as she looks. 

Ran laughs. “Why don’t you just go knock on her door? Tell her you’ve been watching her and think she’s cute!” Rindou ignores him and leaves, slamming the door shut behind him. 

He’ll never admit how much he thinks about her. Especially not to Ran. He does though. He daydreams sometimes about what it would be like to be in her apartment with her, to see her dancing in his kitchen as he plays music for her. He thinks about taking the headphones off from around his neck, placing them gently on her head and playing one of the songs he’s created. He wants to know what she thinks about it, if she likes it, if it would make her move…

🎧

So when he does finally, literally, run into her outside on the street, completely by accident, Rindou is struck silent when she grins at him and apologizes. She raises her eyebrows, her smile growing a little wider as she looks at him. 

“You alright?”

“What? Yeah!” he says, head shaking slightly as he tries to pull himself out of the shock. His cheeks heat as he realizes he’s making a fool out of himself in front of her. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he tries to recover. He grins at her, “You good?”

She looks at him like she’s aware that he’s trying to play it off. “I’m good,” she agrees.

He clears his throat and looks away, wanting to run a hand through his hair. He stops himself though, shoving his hands in his pockets and grateful that Ran isn’t with him to see this train wreck. “You uh…live near?” he asks, lying through his teeth like he doesn’t know exactly where she lives. Fuck. Ran is right. He is a stalker. 

“Yeah,” she says but doesn’t elaborate. He can’t blame her. 

“Me too. My brother and I live in that building over there.” He points it out, partly to reassure her he’s not some random creep and partly because he wants her to know. He wants her to be as curious about him as he is about her. 

“Oh!” She blinks in surprise. “Really? How long have you lived there? Did you just move in?”

“Ah…” he’s pretty sure she breaks his heart with that question. “No, we…we’ve lived there for years.”

“Really? I’ve never seen you around before,” another strike to his heart. “-nd I usually see a lot, I would’ve noticed you-” She pauses before she covers her mouth like she didn’t intend to say it out loud.” Never mind. His heart might just be repaired.  “I mean, walking my dog,” she says quickly. “I usually see a lot of people when I take him out.” 

“I would’ve noticed you too,” he says, grinning a little wider. 

She bites her lip at that, looking away. Fuck, she’s cute. Cuter in person too. Especially when she’s clearly flustered by him. 

“I’m Rindou,” he introduces himself. He doesn’t know if she knows what he and his brother do, or why they’re famous in Roppongi, but he doesn’t want her scared off before he gets the chance to know her. 

“Hi Rindou,” she says, voice a little softer, a little sweeter. It’s enough to make his stomach clench. 

“Hi,” he repeats, not looking away. He just wants to lean down, to see if she tastes as good as he imagined considering how much fucking better she was in person already. 

She introduces herself, saying a name that he repeats twice just to make sure he memorizes it and to cherish the way it sounds and feels when he says it. If he thinks about how good their names sound together, or how good hers sounds with his last name…he’d rather die before he admits that to anyone. 

“You just coming home?” he asks, motioning to the cloth grocery bag she’s carrying. 

“Yeah, just did some shopping. You?”

“Nah, heading to the gym. You…can I take you out sometime?” He asks before he loses his nerve and before his brother can show up and whisk her away without even meaning to. Is she single? He never considered her not being so, but it’s fine. If she isn’t he can deal with that. One way or another. 

She blinks at him in surprise before she tries to stop herself from smiling. He grins at the tension in her cheeks and how she’s dragging her teeth over her bottom lip again. He really wants to taste it. 

“Um, yeah,” she says, finally giving into the smile. It’s like being faced with the sun. Bright and warm and renewing. She nods as if to reaffirm her choice. “Yeah,” she repeats. “Maybe we can exchange numbers first? Then plan something? I wouldn’t want to keep you from the gym.”

“It can wait,” he says, digging out his phone from his pocket. He unlocks it, opens his contacts and hands it over to her. 

She takes it and his fingers slide against hers as she does. They feel soft and warm, and he has to shove down the automatic thought of how soft her skin probably is in other areas….or how her hands would feel touching him. 

He watches as she types in her name and her number. She calls herself before she hands it back, refusing the call on her own phone as he takes it. 

“Now I have your number too,” she smiles softly. 

“Good,” he says, meaning it completely. “Good.” He stares at her for a moment, wishing he could say more but he knows he can’t. He doesn’t want to freak her out and he really, really, doesn’t want to ruin this. Not when he’s finally talking to her. 

“Okay, Rindou, I…I should go in. Put this in the fridge.”

He takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, right. I should…I’m meeting a friend,” he says. “A guy friend. We work out together,” he explains quickly, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. 

She giggles slightly at him and he tries to burn the memory of the sound into his brain. He wants to hear it again. He wants to hear every sound she makes. “Okay,” she says, grinning at him. “Text me when you have time.”

“I will,” he promises like he’s not going to have to quell the urge to message her immediately once they part ways. “Say hi to your dog for me.”

“I will,” she says, biting her lip again. She’s going to drive him crazy. He knows it. He’s going to fantasize about her lips and the way she might leave bite marks on him. Okay, he really needs to leave before he does something stupid. 

“Okay,” he says because he doesn’t actually want to say goodbye. 

She grins again. “Bye Rindou.”

“Bye,” he sighs before he realizes what he’s done. He clears his throat and looks away, cheeks heating in embarrassment again. He grins sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. She laughs lightly before turning and leaving. Rindou watches her go before he has to shake the thoughts out of his head and he forces himself to head to the gym. He needs the distraction now…if only to keep himself from gloating that he has a date with his dream girl. He can’t wait. 

everything taglist: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @kingsmakers @far-shores

also @sxrvivc who listens to me ramble about TR and all my writing for it lol

And the Network: @enchantedforest-network

[the-hovel-of-a-nerdy-rabbit]

Muriel's playlist hints at Ineffable Juniors?

(This is all in good fun and is just my opinion. You don't have to agree, but please stay and read.)

I know a lot of people have analyzed the living crap out of Aziraphale's and Crowley's playlists, but I really just want to ask if anyone ever wondered about why Muriel received these three songs?

The creators of the playlist knew that other feel-good, peppy songs that start their songs with the letter E and L exist, but they picked three songs that deal with love? All that does to me is make me think that Ineffable Juniors (Muriel x Eric) is in the realm of possibility and not just a crack ship.

Let me just get 'Everyday' out the way. (I'll be more in depth lyrically with the other two, but EVERYONE in this fandom has Everyday practically memorized. I'm just saving time and space.) 'Everyday' is the main song of the S2. It is the clue. It is the jumpstart of Ineffable Bureaucracy's relationship. It is THEIR song of love. It wouldn't make sense for them not to have it in their playlist, but why does Muriel have it? Of all the other characters who are in love, why does Muriel have to be the one to receive this song as well? They deal with concept of love, but they don't truly understand it (if they did why would they need to 'learn' from Aziraphale and Crowley). This wouldn't make sense unless this is more of a hint at Muriel's (possible) future storyline: befriending or falling in love with a demon (likely Eric). 'Everyday' is important because it helped blossom a very unlikely relationship between an angel (Gabriel) and a demon (Beelzebub). For Muriel to have that in their playlist in that context pushes their narrative in that direction, and it doesn't help that the other two songs are just pushing it further.

'Ain't No Mountain High Enough' (shortening to ANMHE for my typing sanity) is a classic love song sung by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell. It brings this idea of being invincible while traversing (or willing to traverse) through any terrain to get to the one you love. This is driven home by the first and third verses along with the repeating chorus of the song:

(First) If you need me, call me

No matter where you are

No matter how far (don't worry, baby)

Just call my name

I'll be there in a hurry

You don't have to worry

'Cause baby there

(Third verse) Oh no, darling

No wind, no rain

Or winters cold

Can't stop me baby

No, no baby

'Cause your are my goal

If you're ever in trouble

I'll be there on the double

Just send for me

Oh, baby

(Chorus) Ain't no mountain high enough

Ain't no valley low enough

Ain't no river wide enough

To keep me from getting to you, baby

What I think is interesting is second and last verse because you get to see the relationship of the two people in the song (the couple singing to each other). In the second verse, it's revealed that the two of them are loving/binding relationship by recounting a day that defined their relationship.

Remember the day

I set you free

I told you

You could always count on me darling

From that day on I made a vow

I'll be there when you want me

Someway, somehow

Then the last verse brings up the fact that two are now separated but are still in love and WILL go through anything to get back to the other if they're ever needed.

My love is alive

Way down in my heart

Although we are miles apart

If you ever need a helping hand

I'll be there on the double

Just as fast as I can

I could easily say that this could allude to Muriel having a strained or forbidden relationship with a character, yet something else was brought to my attention. ANMHE tells about a pair who is separated after making a connection/promise to one another while still having romantic feelings, but if one were to be in trouble, the other would surely come to the rescue? I don't know about you guys, but that sounds a lot like our other angel/demon couple, the Ineffable Husbands. Now, we have two songs defining both of our canon angel/demon relationships in a playlist for an angel who hasn't even experienced falling/being in love yet, but this final song clenches everything for me.

Every Summertime by Niki is the song that TRULY made me believe in the idea of Ineffable Juniors. I have played it several times and every time I do, I see Muriel and Eric. Let's begin with the first verse:

18, we were undergrads

Stayed out late, never made it to class,

Outer Richmond in a taxi cab

You were sweating bullets on the way to my dad's and oh

You said, "Baby, think we're moving too fast"

The very beginning gives an image of two students (underlings: 37th Scrivner and lesser demon) who are together (in a buddy/soft couple way), but incompetent (Muriel not understanding certain concepts thus proceeding to mess things up and Eric constantly questioning things while also being a punching bag and cowardly). It's only the first two lines and it already screams Ineffable Juniors. The last two lines give scenarios that could likely happen. Eric would be the one nervous from the idea of meeting Muriel's parental figures superior Aziraphale and his demon husband Crowely. Then comes the statement of "moving too fast." Of course the first thing that comes to mind is the 1967 scene in S1, "You go to fast for me, Crowley", yet in the eyes of our juniors, it would be in Eric's character (having more cowardice and less time to plan ahead) to say that if Muriel wanted to be closer. Then there's this imagery of how one would realize their feelings for someone is becoming more than platonic:

And I swear the magnolias flashed a smile

And that's when I caught me hoping you'd stay a while

I will say that second verse is more of "They're growing closer after a while" more than picturing scenarios like the previous verses.

25, man we're missing church

Laugh 'bout everyone we're hating at work

Dinner with your sister and the jokes kinda hurt

Cry the way home, and you're putting me first, oh

Yeah, we just always know what to say

Then we get these lines:

We're strolling down the boulevard

And dancing under streetlights

Every year we get older, and I'm still on your side

Taking a stroll? Dancing? Being on a side with your partner? This, AGAIN, creates connections to Bureaucracy and Husbands, but the couple in the song portray these actions in a setting for younger, impressionable people, hmmmm... like the Juniors? Let's just finish off with the chorus and outro.

(Chorus) Baby, I'd give up anything to travel inside your mind

Baby, I fall in love again come every summertime

My daddy taught me to choose 'em wisely, but you don't have to try

'Cause, baby, I fall in love every summertime

(Outro) Every day is summertime

Every day is summertime

Every day is summertime with you

Questions that I think about when it comes to the Juniors are "if they fell in love or became close friends, how would Aziraphale and Crowley react? Would they be happy for them, or would they try to stop them from going any further out of fear for their safety?" With what happen at the end of the season, I'm personally think it's the later, but then that brought an additional question. "If Muriel was told to stop meeting Eric, would they?" No. The third line of the chorus reminded me how Muriel knew Aziraphale and Crowley were the enemy and yet they still gave unbiased trust and compassion towards them. A low rank angel who is supposed to take every order willingly decided that the enemy is their friend that they can ask questions to. When you start to apply the first, second and last line of the chorus, along with the outro, it draws a picture of a person so smitten with their partner that every time they're with them, they fall in love all over again, so they're willing to disregard the opinions of others just to be with their other half. Muriel seeing both angel/demon couples existing in the same room in S2E6 feeds my thoughts with the image of Muriel, who may or may not know that Eric is a demon (they never met him, and they also didn't know that Crowley was a demon), proceeding to be around him even after being told not to by Aziraphale. If it was worth it for the others, it could be worth it for me.

I could be reaching with some of my claims, so I'll just continue until I reach the moon. However, it is possible for all three songs to be thrown in the playlist for fun, I mean it does have "Get Lucky" and "Everything is Awesome". I'm just a sucker for Ineffable Juniors. I don't care if they don't end up together or anything, but they have to meet at least once as another example of an angel and demon being able to get along. Stories are always played out in threes. Why can't they be the third?

Thank you for reading if you made it to the end. Here's some sketches for your troubles: