#Because of the high expectations of what they put up

[milf--adjacent]

In today's "People Are Completely Missing My Point", people are posting links to "trans refugee" orgs that have been overburdened and underfunded since the fucking Obama era and drop you in places like Denver that are among the most expensive places to live. We need actual help, not a lottery that ends up doing exactly what I was complaining about because at the end of the day it's a non-profit corporation that spends more money on CEO's salaries and advertizing than it does on its mission. Check out those "resources" if you want, but remember they care more about their PR than they do about your quality of life and safety upon arrival. They just wanna add another trans person to their tally, and their mission kinda ends there. I totally understand people at very high risk needing that kind of help, and ending up homeless somewhere else would feel like a blessing compared to being stuck with abusive family and stuff, but the majority of trans people aren't living that. The majority of trans people just want to be left alone by the government, and we need your help to make that happen. Quit putting the onus for better on us and telling us to put all the time, effort, risk, etc. of moving on the table to find "better" in a place that's strange and just as unwelcoming (but they're not banning HRT anytime soon) as the place we left. Many of us have communities here. Many of us have family we cannot leave. Many of us are black and brown and disabled and will not be treated better anywhere in America for the compounding intersections of that and our queerness. Many of us simply cannot afford groceries or our hormones and y'all expect us to find the money to move across the country?

Let's be real: the "you need to move" crowd is more concerned about clearing their conscience than with actually helping queers in the South. They think they have a silver tongue and so much compassion, but every time they open their mouths, all I hear is the hiss of a snake.

[rafes-slut]

Horny rafe gives you call wanting to see your pussy

Pairing: Horny!Rafe Cameron x reader

Warnings: Smutty talk, sexting, Rafe being a typical needy menace, explicit language, a bit of possessiveness, mentions of alcohol and drug use, suggestive content.

Summary: he is out of town missing you when he gives you call begging you to flash him. And you cant help but to tease him about it

----

You were stretched out on a towel, the sun warming your skin as the waves rolled in the background. Your friends were nearby, laughing and talking, but your focus was on the phone screen as it vibrated in your hand.

Rafe.

You smirked as you answered, bringing the phone to your ear. “Hey—”

"Show me your pussy."

A laugh burst from your lips. No greeting, no ‘I miss you’ first—just straight to the point. That was Rafe.

Before you could even react, he groaned. "No, don’t—fuck, I’m sorry… I’m drunk. Or high."

You could tell. His voice was slower, a little slurred, but still the same deep, commanding tone that always sent a shiver down your spine.

Another pause, another contradiction. "I felt bad…" A few beats of silence. "No, I don’t. Fuck."

He was spiraling, and you were completely entertained. "Rafe," you chuckled.

"Show me," he tried again, voice rough with impatience.

You laughed, shaking your head as you leaned back on your elbows. "I’m at the beach, Rafe."

"So?"

"So," you emphasized, "there are people around. And I’m not exactly gonna flash everyone just because my needy boyfriend is—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he cut in, exhaling harshly. "You got old ones. Look at those." You tell him.

The demand made him roll his eyes. "Send them to me" He said impatiant. But the idea of teasing him was far too tempting. "Hmm," you hummed playfully, pretending to consider it. "Maybe I deleted them."

"You didn’t."

You bit your lip, grinning. "What if I did?"

A scoff. "Then I’d fly home right now just to take new ones."

Your stomach did a little flip. It was one thing when Rafe was just horny and demanding, but when he said things like that—things that told you just how much he actually wanted to be here, with you—it made you miss him even more.

"How much longer are you gone?" you asked, softening.

He sighed, and you heard the rustle of fabric like he was shifting on a bed or couch. "Day after tomorrow," he muttered. "Too fucking long."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he grumbled. "Miss you."

You smiled. "Miss you too."

"Not just your pussy," he added after a beat. "Like… you."

It was rare for Rafe to get all sentimental, but when he did, it always made your heart clench. He wasn’t good at saying it outright, but this was his way of telling you he loved you.

"Well, I’ll be here when you get back," you assured him.

He huffed. "Not soon enough."

You could hear how tired he was, the way his words dragged slightly now—not just from the alcohol or whatever he’d taken, but exhaustion.

"You should sleep," you murmured.

"Mm. You should send me something to dream about."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Goodnight, Rafe."

A groan. "Ugh. Fine. But I’m calling you first thing when I wake up."

"Wouldn’t expect anything else."

You heard him mumble something else, then the line went quiet. Shaking your head with a smirk, you put your phone down.

[reoverie]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ /⠀ NOT-SO-LUKEWARM ⠀ ✦ ⠀ ITOSHI ⠀ RIN

⠀ 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗇 ⠀ ⨾ ⠀ 𝗋𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎

⠀ ⠀ 糸島凛⠀ ⟡⠀ 𝒇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ⠀ ⠀ 𝟪𝟫𝟧 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 ⠀ ⠀ 𝗰𝘄. ⠀ 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾 ⠀ ⠀ 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀. ⠀ 𝗂 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝗄𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖺 !

feline eyes watch you like a hawk, analysing your every move. if you were an opponent of his on the field, he would have devoured you whole and made you a part of his ploy.

but as he watches you, entranced by the way you carry yourself, he can’t seem to pick you apart. not when it seems like there’s sakura blossoms trailing behind you while an orchestra plays with every step you take.

rin is utterly infatuated with you, and he can’t understand why.

is it because of how you speak to everyone with such kindness and compassion? every word that rolls off your tongue feels like caramel drizzling over a scoop of vanilla ice cream, your dulcet voice echoing in his head when he least expects it.

no, that’s not it.

perhaps it was your willingness to help everyone in your class. you constantly put your classmates' needs above your own, which was somewhat expected of the class president. yet you constantly exceed everyone’s expectations, especially rin’s.

he didn’t expect to crush on someone as lukewarm as you. though the more his sights landed on you, he began to realize that you weren’t like the rest of the class.

every time your name was mentioned in a conversation, rin finds himself glancing at whoever mentioned your name, shifting in interest. apparently, you had ranked first overall in your class.

he didn’t know that.

so he finds himself leaning in his seat, trying to hear more. turns out, you were balancing your studies alongside the sport you did! which was… cheer?

cheerleading is hardly a sport! but he couldn’t help being intrigued by it, by you.

nevertheless, he starts to learn small things about you; your favorite color, your favorite songs, how you were awarded something in junior high because of your outstanding grades and overall attitude towards your classmates.

it urges him to talk to you, to finally utter a word to you and stand in your presence, even if it means awkward silence on his behalf. what would a conversation between the two of you entail? he’s never spoken to another girl, someone that wasn’t his mother or aunts.

rin never thought someone, much less a girl, had him feeling this way.

his usual stoic and confident demeanor was replaced with.. cowardice? anxiety? and is that a glint of fear in his eyes as he approaches you?

mind swirling with second thoughts, rin figures that this would blow up in his face. a soccer prodigy, afraid to talk to a girl? how idiotic was that! he’s never going to hear the end of it from his classmates. he might as well develop a plan to convince his mother to homeschool him so he never has to face you or anyone else again, while devoting the rest of his time to soccer more than he already has.

“oh, itoshi-kun! good morning!” your candy-like voice snaps him out of his impending spiral, cool toned eyes gazing down at you sitting at your desk.

had he walked to your desk subconsciously? it seems so.

the boy clears his throat, trying to get rid of the bubble of nerves that formed. “good morning..” he mumbles, eyes darting to some place in the classroom.

his timidness didn’t go unnoticed to you, which earns a giggle from you.

as class president, you’re friendly with most of your classmates, but there was one person you didn’t have the pleasure of befriending yet – itoshi rin.

he keeps to himself, and only ever speaks when participating in class. he plays soccer and shockingly enough (though it’s no surprise), he’s ranked second overall in class, right behind you. you only discovered that because of some classmates of yours, the group of girls more than happy to share that information with you.

awkwardness grows between the two of you, and it makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat. you were never good with tricky situations like this one, but you were fast on your feet.

“i hear there’s a soccer match coming up,” you speak up in hopes to get his attention. and you do, his teal eyes glancing downwards to meet yours. “are you gonna score the winning goal?”

rin knows it’s just a means to get him to talk to you, but regardless it makes his heart ring in his ears. everyone was aware he was a part of the school’s soccer club, but people rarely spoke to him about it, or spoke to him in general.

he thinks he needs to work on his people skills, but that thought is flushed away as he begins to share details of his upcoming game.

“i plan on it. no way am i letting any half-baked players get in my way of scoring.”

his way of speaking about his opponents stuns you for a moment, but the initial shock is replaced with a light chuckle of amusement and a warm smile.

for a beat, rin’s heart skips, and he’s certain his cheeks have gone from ivory to crimson as you smile up at him. it only pushes him to talk to you more.

and he does, taking a seat at the desk next to yours. he hopes whoever sits there doesn’t mind his overtake, elated over the fact that he’s talking to you, the only other thing that occupied his mind alongside soccer.

© REOVERIE, 2024 ⠀/ ⠀my works are purely fiction and, in no way, is canon aligned. please like and reblog if you enjoyed!

[keyaho]

.summary - Briar Jameson has been a ballet dancer since her first step. She found out how expensive the job was and almost gave up. At least until an unlikely benefactor proposed an arrangement.

.about - I'M BACK !!!! This is a spin off of my story R.E.L.Ls. If you would like to be tagged please like this post.

.warnings - depictions of sexual situations, MDNI, 18+

🟥....finale - relates to stopping or an end 🟨....adagio - slowly 🟩....en avant - forward

He was always front row watching her. Opening night to the final curtain call, Briar had his full attention each and every performance. When she wasn't on stage, he scrolled his phone and took calls from Hunter and Paul. Because in due time he knew she'd be on her knees sucking him off in his limo on the way back to their hotel suite for the night. His debauched thoughts were interrupted by clapping and he watched the curtain lower and her co-lead, Amir, present her to the clapping audience. For a brief second he caught her looking towards his box, high above the floor seats and secluded from people who could notice the WWE Superstar was in the building. 

Even if they couldn't see each other clearly, they locked eyes, sharing a moment despite the distance between them. 

"You came," Briar said. 

She held another bouquet of daffodils in white, yellow, and pink. Her favorite flower and her favorite colors. She never expected this man to pay attention to the small things considering their arrangement, but he surprised her every time. When she learned he came to all of her performance, she wondered what he was thinking. Was he here just because of how their night was planned to end, or did he really enjoying seeing her perform?

"Of course," he replied coolly, leading her from the back door exit to their awaiting limousine. 

The driver opened their door and she slid inside first, the flowers finding a place on the seat next to the window. Roman slid in after, his large body taking up space as his thighs naturally parted. Briar looked down at them. 

Her makeup was ruined. Mascara ran down her face in a river of black. Her lipstick was smudged and her eyes were red and tear brimmed. She sat perfectly on her in front of Roman as he scrolled through his phone. At the hotel's provided desk, she kept his dick warm with her throat. He was heavy on her tongue, the vein on the underside she was used to licking, pulsed. The three new pair of skin toned pointe shoes were open on the bed, already tried on.  She just had to form them to her feet and break them in. 

Briar watched him put his phone down. His dark brown eyes landed on her between his legs and a smile stretched across his face. 

"Look at you," he hummed. "My own little ballerina." 

His fingertips brushed against her cheeks, feeling his dick pressing against them. He shifted further in the chair, watching at her eyes shed more tears. His thick fingers twisted into her curls, pulling her head up until his tip rested against her full bottom lip. 

She was still in her costume from the show. The performance tutu was fanned out, her knees tucked between them as she rested on them. The gold detailing around the heart shaped necklines was intricately beaded. Her brown skin, even now, glowed so beautifully. 

"The pointe shoes okay?" He asked. 

Briar nodded. They were her preferred brand; snug, but didn't feet too tight. The color match was perfect, seamlessly blending in with her skin tone. 

"Good." He laughed. "At six hundred a pop they better be." 

Roman stood, dick swinging, and walked to the bed. Briar stay where she was, watching him. He motioned for her to join him. She rose slowly, watching as he removed his shirt and tie. Roman tossed it to the side, his broad back and golden skin was just as impressive as his front. The same front her hands had explored as her took her over the edge with his long and deep strokes. 

She came to stand in front of him and she looked up at his expectant eyes. 

"They aren't going to take themselves off." 

Briar had learned one of his rules fairly early on in their arrangement. You have the please of undressing me. 

She reached for his belt buckle, the moves so familiar she watched his face as she pulled his belt loose, unbuttoned his slacks, and pushed them down his hips. The wet spot she had made earlier rubbed against her hands as she tugged them off when he lifted his legs. 

"How's my pretty little valet?" 

"Adagio." She replied. 

As much as she wanted to have a marathon with him, she was both tired and needy. After sixteen shows, rehearsals, and little sleep over the past few weeks she wanted to feel him, of course, it had been two weeks, but she knew once she hit that bed, he'd be using her like a fleshlight. Roman had seen the sleepy look in her eyes when he found her after the show. 

"Turn around. Hands on the bed." 

Briar turned around and leaned forward. Her hands dug into the plush sheets. She felt the zipper of her costume lower, the calloused hands running up her spine, and the yank of material as the costume was stripped from her body. Her black thong came next. The material was damp and she shivered as he pulled them down. 

When she was naked, Roman grabbed her hips and kicked her legs apart. Briar could feel his dick pressing against her cunt, poking at her slit every few seconds as he positioned himself behind her. He tapped her thigh. 

She rose up on the box of her pointe shoes as her back arches. 

"Such a beautiful relevé." 

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Goku + Vegeta when their spouse is away on a work trip headcanons

warnings: established relationship, husband/wife, fem!reader is taking Chi-Chi and Bulma's place as the Saiyan’s significant other in each separate, respective scenario.

If this does make you feel comfortable, please hit the back 'button' on your phone or laptop and do not leave any mean comments. This blog is a safe space for everyone to share their thoughts and enjoy fics.

Special thanks to @actuallysaiyan for being my beta-reader and cheerleader, this piece wouldn’t have been possible without her.

I would love to hear feedback on these types of scenarios for Dragonball/Dragonball Z and if I should continue them or what I should try writing next~!

divider by @cafekitsune

Son Goku

Goku would definitely be excited to have the house all to himself for an entire week because that meant he got to spend more time training to get stronger! Your sons would also be home while you’re gone on this business trip, so that’s a bonus right there!

As much as he loves to fight, he would like to make up for the time he had missed seeing Gohan grow up and get to know Goten more. Goku wouldn’t exactly be called the best father, but he had been putting in the effort after the Old Kai had given him another chance at life. He had an inkling just how hard you worked at your job to provide for the family from Gohan, but once you were out of the door? Totally different story.

Goku only knows how to cook simple meals, but he would wait until almost all the food you had meticulously prepared for your departure was almost gone. At least before he walked in the door one evening after a grueling session with Vegeta and he saw Gohan cooking in the kitchen with Goten clinging to his side. Not just what you would you normally eat, but the portions you always dished out that would fill him and the boys up.

Turns out that after he had died and his oldest son defeated Cell, you had developed a new routine in his absence: You would be up first thing in the morning, followed by Gohan, who had early morning classes. He would take care of making lunches while you did breakfast, then wake up Goten. Gohan would fly with Goten to West City to go to school, and you would leave for work. If you left work on time, then you’d come straight home and start cooking dinner. If you had to work a few extra hours, then Gohan would be in charge of the kitchen. Goten would help with setting the table, since he was still too young to do any cooking or handle sharp objects.

Once dinner was served and finished, you would clean up the kitchen while Gohan helped his little brother with homework or getting him ready for bed. Afterwards you would read Goten a bedtime story, then it was lights out for everyone until the next day arrived. Gohan would be an exception to the rule if he wanted to put in a few extra hours of studying.

This routine taught the boys not only how to do chores on their own, but also to be a little more independent. It was actually Piccolo’s idea; the Namekian had helped you with looking after them when they were younger on days when you would be stuck at the office longer than expected when Bulma couldn’t. She already had her hands full as the new president of Capsule Corp and being a mother herself.

You were more than happy to compensate for Piccolo’s time with jugs of high-quality water or a meal. It was no surprise that he became a father-figure to Goten as he had been to Gohan.

Hearing all of this from his oldest son stunned and made Goku’s chest swell with happiness and pride. He had sacrificed himself to save the world from Cell, but it wasn’t until after he arrived in the Other World that he realized he had left you all alone. It couldn’t have been easy, especially after Goten was born, but you all did it. He was very proud of you, and he wished you were here now so he could show you just how much he appreciated you.

But you weren’t here. You wouldn’t be back for another six days. Maybe that’s why it felt sort of lonely to go to sleep that night, noticing how cold your side of the bed was.

By the third or fourth day Goku will be whiny, constantly annoying Vegeta during their training sessions on how much he misses you and wants you to come soon so he could eat your cooking or worse, complains why you had to leave for this trip when you could have stayed home before the Saiyan Prince points out how many times he has left his family alone before promptly kicking Goku out of the gravity room.

On the fifth day, he was more than ready to fly wherever you were and bring you home. Unfortunately, the reason you had suddenly called the house right after dinner was because you wouldn’t be coming home like you had planned. Something unexpected happened with a major project at the office, and the higher-ups put you in charge of damage control. Right now you were looking for another day, maybe two days? You promised to keep him or Gohan updated, but Goku was not happy with the news.

He knows your job is important, but what about your family? Nope. You have already worked enough, someone else can handle the problem! You were coming home in two days, no ifs or buts.

You had better be prepared to get the shock of your life if you decide otherwise, because Goku will use Instant Transmission to be wherever you are and suffocate you with bone-crushing hugs and wet kisses. Don’t worry about the kids, he called Piccolo to watch them until the two of you got back.

Now, please give him some attention~.

Vegeta

Vegeta is an arrogant and stubborn-ass Saiyan, even if everyone else says he’s definitely calmed down a lot after getting married and having Trunks. This guy will never admit how much you have changed his life for the better.

Like Goku, he would be delighted to hear that you are leaving for a weeklong work trip; to him, this means he has more time to focus on getting stronger than being forced to sit with you after dinner to watch a show you liked and cuddle for a bit in bed before it’s lights out. It was also an excellent opportunity to get Trunks in the gravity room. He will not tolerate the idea of Kakarot’s younger son being more powerful than his heir apparent.

He would definitely rely on either the meals you prepared ahead of time because he cannot cook or takeout with the emergency black card you’ve left for them on the counter to use while you are gone. Vegeta is a hazard in the kitchen unless it’s warming up something on the stove and microwave.

Although he is technically a stay-at-home dad, Vegeta would quickly realize just how much you do around the house. Regardless of the extra hours you put in at the office, you had always made sure everything was spotless, there was plenty of food on the table, and spent time with him and Trunks. Vacation days? Used only to take four day family trips together or if you were sick.

On the third day, he wouldn’t spend it training from morning to late afternoon in the gravity room or spar with Kakarot. Instead, he scrubs the house from top to bottom once he’s dropped Trunks off at school; washing the dishes in the sink, throwing out expired foodstuff, and decimating the dust bunnies with the vacuum. Once the last load of laundry is done, he rushes to get his son.

He would make Trunks clean his own room. If it was dirty or didn’t meet his expectations of cleanliness? Extra thirty minutes of training or doing one hundred push-ups would serve as his son’s punishment. He did not raise a lazy son, thank you.

He would be more moody than usual in your absence and not realize until Yamcha or another Z-Fighter pointed it out at a surprise cookout at Capsule Corp held on the fourth day. Vegeta would scowl silently and not say anything, even if he took up Mrs. Brief’s offer to take home any leftovers.

As much as he wanted to use the new Instant Transmission technique and bring you home immediately, his pride prevents from doing so. He is the Prince of Saiyans. He is not a weakling to where he cannot handle you being gone for an entire week.

(He does not take it well when you call him on the day before you are supposed to be back that you need to stay for another day to work on a report for the higher-ups. Trunks had to remind him to breathe and loosen his grip on the phone or he’d break the damned thing)

Expect Vegeta to act like a grumpy and super clingy cat as soon as you walk in the door. He will literally follow you into the bathroom because he does not want to be left alone like that again. Do not even think about denying Vegeta the opportunity to take a bath or shower with him because he will have a hissy fit.

Trunks will have to wait to cuddle with his mother. A prince’s needs come first after all~. 

Taglist: @uninhabitedsworld-18 @nasty-redrum @zvmbieb0y @boonsmoon @mythoswarrior-23 @jadeprouductions @hoodiepandaninja16 @jurikuran86 @vegeta-bananabluish @fanboilingwriter

[moonmunson]

don't stop (thinking about tomorrow)

wc: 2.3k

cw: live!reader who can see wally, fun little meet cute that freaks wally out, tw for two sentence mention of harry potter, set in 2023 but nothing with maddie happens, and as always i am writing with a plus size!reader in mind, but this one is gender neutral!reader as well so far

a/n at the end!

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

masterlist

He was never supposed to find out that you can see him. 

You could see all of them - the beatnik with the sour expression plastered on her face, the sweetheart in the jean jacket, even the blonde dude who’s always at the pottery wheel during your second period ceramics class.

You’d spent the last four years perfecting walking right past them, not looking up, not laughing at the jock’s jokes when you’re seated near them in the library.

Your ‘gifts’ are too confusing to explain, and even if you attempted to confide in someone about them, you know it would be too hard to believe.

It freaked your parents out when you were little - your comments about how Grandma talked to you long after her passing, how you waved to people on the street that nobody else could see. They never took you to be tested -  worried too much that you’d get taken away or put in psychiatric holding. 

So if you came home looking tired and drained, or sometimes, a little scared, your parents understood. 

When you started high school, you hadn’t expected there to be so many dead people. It was so weird, seeing people your age walking around stuck in the clothes representative of their times. 

You’d told your mom about the kids as you distinguished them from the living ones -  sadness in her eyes growing when you’d mentioned the lanky one in 80s athletic gear. She’d gotten her own Split River yearbook from the shelf, flipped to the memorial page and pointed at Wally. 

“Is that who you’re talking about?” 

You’d nodded, confirming her suspicions. She’d been in his graduating class, though not in his social circles. He’d been your stereotypical jock when he was alive, for all the pros and cons of it. King of the ragers thrown after games, not always a bully, but often a bystander. Gone too soon, but quickly forgotten in the grand scheme of things. 

For your safety, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t ever speak to any of the ghosts. Your mom had clocked the dreamy glaze in your eyes while looking at Wally’s picture, and while she couldn’t stop you from talking to him, she’d told you what you already knew. It wasn’t smart, and it wouldn’t end well. 

In your mind, letting any of them know that you could see them would be more cruel than just letting them go about their usual business. Even if you made contact, spoke to them - hung out with them - you were leaving after graduation, and they’d be alone again, without any contact with the living world. It seemed unfair; pointless. 

It’s not Wally’s fault he’s so fucking pretty. 

He moves about the school the same way you do - not looking at or paying attention to the people around him - because he has no reason to believe he can be seen. It’s worked out entirely in your favor thus far, because you can stare at Wally Clark for small periods of time without him noticing. On the occasion that he turns his head in your direction, a shift of your eyes to the right or left has him believing you’re just staring off into space. 

He’s so nice to look at. His slightly curled waves of black hair, gold chain gleaming under fluorescent lighting. There’s depth to him, too. When he’s around his friends, he’s energetic - bouncy, cracking jokes and patting people on the back too hard. When he’s alone, though, he seems calmer. More reserved. 

You get bolder with it, the staring, lulled into a sense of safety because you’re just another face in the ever-rotating crowd of high schoolers that pass through Split River. He’d seen forty generations of kids move on at this point, stuck as a fresh 18 year old with dreams and aspirations he’ll never be able to achieve. 

It must suck, having to stay behind and watch as other seniors get a chance to do what he never did. You wish you could comfort him, maybe even help him find a way to move on. It’s harder for the people who die traumatically. 

So much unfinished business and pent up emotions make it difficult to find the peace needed to pass onto the next plane. It’s easy to tell -there’s always a certain aura around the sad ones. Like the air around them is heavier, darker. 

You’re not complaining, though, as fucked as that may sound. Especially not when you’re lounging under a tree near the football field, not so subtly watching as a shirtless Wally picks up replicated footballs and throws them aimlessly in different directions. If you hadn’t been daydreaming about being able to talk to him, you would’ve noticed the ball soaring towards you. 

You look up, just in time for the phantom ball to hit the ground next to you, bouncing to land at your feet. Absent-mindedly - and almost jokingly - you kick it away from you, suddenly aware the ball was solid against your foot. In the time it takes you to realize you just interacted with a phantom football, it's faded away into the ground, and its sender is staring at you wide-eyed. 

There’s a beat of stillness, soundtracked by the cicadas and other teens on the field before you begin to move. 

You scramble to throw your shit into your bag, and speed walk back inside. 

“Holy shit? Wait! Hey, wait!” 

He follows you, because of course he does, and you try your best to ignore the panic and guilt rising in your throat. You just keep walking, hoping that he’ll give up. He doesn’t. 

“Can you slow down please? I know you can see me!” 

Wally catches up to you, jogging a few paces ahead to try to cut you off. You’ve never been this close to him - you have no idea if he’ll pass through you the way you’ve seen the other ghosts pass through living people before or if you'll make contact like you did moments ago with the ball he had thrown. 

It blows your cover even more than kicking the ball away, but when Wally goes to stand in front of you, you attempt to veer out of his path. And then he grabs you. Or, he tries to, anyway. He’s not fully solid, not enough to place a firm hold on you, but enough for you to genuinely feel it. 

His hand does go through you, but there’s resistance to it. It makes you shiver, the ice cold sensation of his palm trying to hold your shoulder but not being able to fully grip it. 

“What the fuck?” He looks down at his hands, then back towards you. 

He’s caught off guard enough for you to truly get away this time. Rest of the school day be damned, you make a break for it and throw yourself into your car. 

The stale air does nothing to help your nerves, your shaking hand turning the ignition to blast AC at yourself. You lean forward, resting your head on the steering wheel and try to breathe through it. This is bad. Like, really fucking bad. 

You don’t know much about him, but you seriously doubt that this is the kind of thing he’d just let go. 

You’re in it now, for better or for worse. 

You can’t tell your mom. It’s selfish, and misguided, and you hadn’t even said anything to him, but it was something. It was yours, and you don’t want to share. It makes the guilt worse, and your drive home is spent in dissociated silence. 

When you get home, your mom is in the kitchen, bouncing around to 80s music and chopping onions. The slam of the front door alerts her to your presence, and she pauses her music, concern etched in her features. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay? You’re home early.” 

You don’t want to lie. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just got a headache, that’s all. Thought I should come home and take a nap.” 

-

Spending a few days at home would probably be for the best - it would give you time to come up with some sort of plan on what to say to Wally. You have no idea what the best course of action is. He knows you can see him now. You can’t take that back and make him forget it, and you don’t even know if you’d want to. 

Instead, you barrel into school the next day, head down and earphones blasting music. Your eyes don’t leave the linoleum floor except to put your bag in your locker. The grumble of frustration and annoyance that leaves your body when three Tears for Fears songs play in succession draws the attention of other students in the hallway, but you pay them no mind. 

You don’t even make it to third period before you see him. 

Sitting in the corner of ceramics class, shaky hands denting an already uneven vase, the slam of the classroom door makes you jump - effectively destroying the soft clay cradled in your palms. 

“There you are! Dude, I've been looking all over for you.” He sidles up to you, plops down in the seat directly to your right, the heat of his gaze burning into the side of your face and making your cheeks hot. You sigh, squishing the clay down and shaking your head. 

“That’s fine, you don’t have to talk. I can talk for both of us. I can just talk, and talk, and talk, and-” 

Your hand shoots into the air, a frantic “Can I use the restroom please?” leaving your throat. 

It’s your worst nightmare and a dream come true, being alone with Wally. He walks next to you in the hallway, and when you pass the bathroom he pauses. 

“You’re not going in? I thought you needed to go.” He’s teasing, you know he is, but you still huff at him. 

You keep your pace, calling out behind you, “No, Wally, I don’t need to use the bathroom.” 

You don’t turn around to see it, but you can hear the slightly shocked giggle that leaves him. 

“Oh, c’mon, really?” 

He catches up to you, and when you crane your head to the side to make eye contact, he sucks in a little breath. It’s the first time you’ve actually looked into his eyes. It throws you off kilter a bit, and you feel the need to make up the difference with a quip. 

“What, you’re Moaning Myrtle now? You feel like talking and hanging around in public restrooms?” 

The laugh that leaves him surprises you, Your eyebrows raise, not expecting him to understand the reference. 

“Ms. Williams plays the movies during finals week like every year,” he shrugs, “I’m dead, not blind.” 

You’d taken your things with you - skipping the rest of your class to spend time with him, to answer the questions you know he wants to ask. You go back to the football field, under the same tree you’d been under when you kicked the football away from you. 

He’s waiting for you to speak, to help him understand what’s going on, but the words are caught in your throat, cheeks hot and skin itchy. Your hands fidget, picking dried clay from under your fingernails and flicking it onto the grass nearby. 

You look at him, trying to decide where to start. 

“I’m not really supposed to talk to you.”

“Why not?” He laughs then, shakes his head a little. “It’s because I’m dead, right? Do you have a problem with dead people?”

“No, I-” You start on the defensive, but soften when you see Wally’s smirk. He’s a little shit, you should've known. You roll your eyes, “You’re not supposed to know I can see you for your own sake. What good would it do? Hanging out with me for the next three months until I graduate and you can never see me again? It’s unfair.”

He looks away from you for a second, sly smile wiped off of his face, replaced with a sadness you hadn’t seen from him before. You reach out, trying to make contact, and your hand just meets the air. When he’d tried to grab you yesterday, he was slightly more solid than he is now. You don’t know why. 

“Yeah it is unfair,” He turns to face you again, brown eyes glassy and tear rimmed, “but you can see me, and that’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to me since I’ve been here.” 

Something in your chest stirs, and you know there’s no universe in which you would’ve been able to stay away from him. You’re worlds apart, or planes apart, but it doesn't seem to matter as much as you used to think it did. 

“I think it’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me, too.” 

You spend the rest of the school day - without being caught, thankfully - in deep conversation. The shrill ring of the bell signaling the end of the day cuts you off in the middle of a sentence, and you stand from your place on the grass, dusting yourself off and gathering your things. 

The silence between you is comfortable now, as he walks you to your car. He can’t step off the curb - he’d explained the boundaries of the school to you, that he’d be thrown back to the field if tried to leave. You hover together, not wanting to part. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow? We can hang out more, I have study hall during 5th period.” You tuck a stray hair behind your ear, and he follows the movement with his eyes. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” 

You blast your 80s playlist on the way home, while you’re in the shower, while you’re doing homework. 

Wally Clark is gonna be the death of you.  

a/n: hiii i feel like this part was a little lackluster but !!!! i have a whole plan for what i want to do with this fic and i'm really excited about it. it should be four parts, but that's subject to change as i keep writing.

if you liked this and want to read more of my little stories, my masterlist is linked at the top! if you have ideas or just want to chat, my inbox is always open!

pls don't forget to like and reblog! love you mwah

[daydreamabout]

The Line That Was Crossed [Tim Bradford Imagine]

Summary: Y/N and Tim end up in Sergeant Grey's office.

The afternoon was unusually quiet at the LAPD precinct, and Tim Bradford couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. It was one of those rare shifts where things seemed a little too calm, which only ever meant one thing: trouble was about to strike. As he sat at his desk, reviewing case files and making notes, he couldn’t help but glance over at Y/N, who was across the room, casually leaning back in her chair and chatting with Smitty. She looked relaxed, but Tim knew that beneath her easy-going exterior, she was just as alert as he was. They’d been working together for over a year now, and in that time, they’d become more than just partners. They’d become something deeper, more personal. Officially, their relationship was still lowkey at work. They’d agreed that it was easier to keep things professional in front of their colleagues, but the unspoken tension and affection between them was always there, simmering just below the surface.

But today, something was different. There was a fire in Y/N’s eyes—something Tim hadn’t noticed until it was too late. He was halfway through a phone call when it happened. A call came in on the radio for a suspected drug deal going down in a nearby alley. Tim immediately grabbed his gear, but before he could turn to Y/N, she was already up and moving, her eyes locked on the door like she was already ten steps ahead.

“Come on, we’ve got work to do,” Y/N said, her voice sharp with determination.

Tim nodded, grabbing his own vest and weapon. “Let’s do this.”

As they arrived at the alley, the tension in the air was thick. The usual suspects were there—two men standing near a car, speaking in low tones, exchanging what looked like a bag of cash. Tim’s instincts were on high alert, but it was Y/N’s energy that was throwing him off. She was moving faster than he expected, eyes narrowed, every muscle tense, but not with caution—no, it was more like she was ready to explode.

“Y/N, slow down!” Tim called out, reaching for her arm, but she was already halfway across the alley.

“Let’s end this,” she snapped, her voice cold as she approached the men.

Tim’s eyes widened. He could already see how this was going to go down. They weren’t dealing with some simple street thugs—they were connected, and any wrong move could escalate things in a heartbeat. Tim started after her, trying to get her to stop before the situation spiraled.

“Y/N!” Tim’s voice was sharper now, his hand on her shoulder, pulling her back gently. “This is a setup—wait for backup!”

But she wasn’t listening. “I don’t need backup,” Y/N said, her voice tight, almost angry. She wasn’t backing down. “These guys aren’t walking away this time. You said it yourself: enough is enough.”

Before he could respond, one of the suspects turned and saw them, and that’s when everything went sideways. The man jerked his hand out of his pocket, and without thinking, Y/N pulled her weapon, pointing it at the man’s chest.

“Drop it!” Y/N shouted, her voice filled with authority, but there was an edge to it—one that made Tim’s stomach drop. He knew her—knew she wasn’t a loose cannon—but this was different. Her finger was on the trigger, and her breath was coming a little too fast.

“Y/N, no!” Tim shouted, rushing forward to intercept her, but it was too late.

The situation had already escalated. The suspect made a move—quick, jerking to the side—and Y/N flinched, her weapon trembling slightly in her hands. Tim grabbed her wrist just as the shot fired, but it wasn’t aimed at the suspect. The bullet slammed into the wall next to them, creating a cloud of dust and debris.

“Drop the gun, now!” the other suspect shouted, pulling his own weapon, aiming it at them.

The situation was out of control, and Tim could see it in Y/N’s eyes—she had reacted in a way that wasn’t like her. It was raw, impulsive, and now they were both in danger because of it.

“Put the gun down!” Tim barked at the suspect, trying to regain control of the scene. “You don’t want to do this.”

Thankfully, backup arrived just in time, and the standoff ended with the suspects being arrested without any further shots fired. Tim and Y/N both were shaken, but as they watched the officers cuff the men and lead them away, Y/N’s hands were still shaking slightly.

Tim’s anger was building now, though not directed at the suspects. He turned to Y/N, his voice low but firm. “What the hell was that, Y/N?”

She glared back at him, her face tight with frustration. “I was doing my job, Tim. I don’t need you babying me.”

Tim’s jaw clenched. “I wasn’t babying you. You were about to make a mistake. I know you’re pissed about the case, but you can’t let it cloud your judgment. You almost got us both killed out there.”

Y/N’s eyes flashed, but she didn’t argue. She knew he was right—part of her had been itching for something like this, something that would let her take all the frustration out on someone. But she knew she had crossed a line, and it felt worse than it should.

Tim softened his tone, trying to reach her. “Look, I get it. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, but this isn’t the way to handle it.”

But before Y/N could respond, a voice interrupted them.

“Bradford, Y/N—get in my office. Now,” Sergeant Grey’s voice rang out, cold and commanding.

Tim and Y/N exchanged a look. They both knew what this meant.

Ten minutes later, they stood in Sergeant Grey’s office, the door shut behind them. Grey’s stern expression was enough to make anyone nervous, but Tim and Y/N had been in enough trouble before to know this was different. Sergeant Grey stood with his arms crossed, his gaze flicking between the two of them. “Care to explain what the hell happened out there?” he asked, his voice even but heavy with disapproval. Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but Tim cut her off, his voice steady. “It was my fault, Sarge. I should’ve stopped her before it escalated.”

Sergeant Grey narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t about you protecting her, Bradford. This is about judgment. Both of you crossed a line out there, and it’s not something I take lightly.”

Y/N’s face tightened with frustration, but she didn’t interrupt. She knew she’d messed up, and this wasn’t the time for excuses.

“You’ve been partners long enough to know how to keep it together, but today, you didn’t. Y/N, you were reckless. And Bradford, you let her be reckless. The next time, someone won’t be as lucky.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her stomach turning with the weight of his words. “I... I didn’t mean for it to go down like that,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I just—I got caught up in the moment.”

“I know,” Sergeant Grey replied, his tone softening slightly. “But when you're out there, you don't have the luxury of acting on instinct alone. You need to think, not react. You're both better than that. So, this is your warning. Don’t let it happen again.”

There was a heavy silence as both Tim and Y/N nodded in acknowledgment.

Sergeant Grey gave them one last, long look before finally speaking. “Alright. You’re both dismissed. But remember—out there, we don’t just watch each other’s backs. We trust each other to keep it cool. Now, get back to work.”

As they left his office, Tim couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation. He’d been right to be protective of Y/N, but in doing so, he’d let the situation spiral out of control. Y/N was usually the one to stay level-headed, but today, she’d let her emotions take over.

“You okay?” Tim asked as they walked down the hall, his voice low.

Y/N took a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah. Just... got carried away. I’ll do better.”

He gave her a small smile, offering his silent support. "We both will."

[lovecandyxx]

Logan Howlett x Young! Fem! Reader࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Dancin' in the bar❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

A/N: Okaaay so this idea was totally inspired by the song 'Does your mother know' by ABBA, reader in this story is obviously 18+ though, you can imagine like 18/19/20! but in the story is said ‘19’♡ I think this story could also apply to any variant of Logan!! (maybe not)….

Short summary: You, a young girl had decided you we're sick of your parents strict behavior, so you wanted to sneak out. You heard that the bar close to your town had a special 'disco dancing night' tonight, it was also expected for a lot of young people to be there tonight, perfect! you thought.. But really ended up being surprised by the older male you found yourself interacting with. ♡ Contents: Alc consumption, kissing, smoking, pet names, teasing, funky dancing:3 Lmk if I missed anything!!

My hands trembled very lightly of the adrenaline kick I felt and my heart throbbed in my throat, I had my arms crossed over my chest rubbing my arms softly because of the cold night breeze. It was a little over midnight, my parents had assumed I went right to sleep at 10 when I went up to my bedroom.

When I was sure it was safe I silently got ready and snuck outside swiftly, making sure to be quieter than a mouse and then running off with a sudden wave of adrenaline, just sprinting away from my house following the direction to the bar.

The walk to the bar wasn't that long, maybe 10 or 15 minutes. I was glad for that because I had dressed very appropriate for the bar, but inappropriate for this damned cold!

As the adrenaline of sneaking out wore off, I walked in silence with a dumb grin on my face. I looked around noticing how different everything looks when it's dark outside. When my gaze finally landed upon the bar front door my heartbeat picked up again, 'what am I getting myself into?!' I cursed in my own head.

One problem was in fact that for this 'special' bar night you had to be 25+, well I am far from that! I had put on a more adult-ish outfit, in the hopes that one, they don't kick me out and then two, don't ask for my ID. I took a deep breath and walked into the bar.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sat inside holding a cigar on a stool chair at the bar was Logan, sipping on his whiskey and cursing in his own head too. What was expected to be a calm relaxing night after a rough day at the x mansion, had turned into a night full of a bunch of twenty-five year old's dancing and screaming around the bar, even occasionally bumping into him.

He didn't know tonight would be this dumb, idiotic dancin' night for a bunch of youngin's who liked licking each others face off after a few communicated words or cheesy pick up lines.

He took a deep drag of his cigar, letting the smoke escape with an annoyed sigh. He was just about to signal at the bartender to close his tab until his eyes landed on the eager looking girl entering the bar.

She was wearing high heels, and only a really short tight dress that hugged her body perfectly. She looked gorgeous to him, though. Face and hair all dolled up, The other women here all looked the same, it bored him. Even though their age should interest him more, he was a lot more focused on you.

Logan's eyebrows raised in intriguement. 'No way that girl is twenty-five." Logan thought to himself and furrowed his brows. He stayed seated eyeing her the whole time, not letting her out of his sight. Taking another drag and signaling the bartender to send another glass of whiskey his way.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

As I walked in the bar loud music was blasted and a bunch of young adults we're dancing and cheering through it. I quickly scanned the room and saw the bar with the stools, I pushed myself past and through a bunch of party goer's and sighed deeply when I finally reached the bar.

No way I was gonna dance alone without a drink first.

I gulped and sat at the table trying to look composed and not under 25 at all.. I looked at the bartender and he walked my way. "And what will it be for ya?" The man glanced at me once and then let his focus fall back onto the cups he was cleaning. I quickly replied, "Two tequila shots, please.." I smiled at the bartender when he nodded and walked off. As his back turned my shoulders slugged slightly and I sighed relieved, he didn't notice me at all which is good! Cause at least he didn't ask for my ID.

As the bartender was preparing my shots, I eyed the disco lidded room. There we're a bunch of neon focused colour's beaming around the room, but it still held a cozy bar tint to it.

My eyes finally landed on him. Cigar in hand sipping slowly on a whisky neat. I was surprised to find him already looking at me, his eyes practically burned into every part of me. I had figured there would be men like this, and that I'd have to bite them off of me. But this one.. was surprisingly, exactly my type. Gruff and broad, smoking looking all tough and confident.

I knew exactly what my goal was gonna be for the night.

The bar tender returned and I thanked him kindly while downing the two shots quickly. I glanced at the man sitting across me from the bar table to think about if I was sure about it or not, but his eyes we're exactly already on mine. Yup. I'll go for it.

I stood up and slowly made my way over to this mysterious gruff looking man, trying to maintain eye contact, like an animal staring at it's prey. His eyes and head followed my every move.

When I reached his seat, I leaned with crossed elbows on the table "Wanna dance, tough guy?" I spoke out confidently. He took the last drag of his cigar and put it out on a nearby ash tray before answering you. "How old are you really, bub?" His question caught you off guard, You truly thought you had mastered looking 25! "Whaaat? Can't hear ya! Music's too loud!!" I yelled with an awkward grin. I quickly grabbed his arm dragging him onto the supposed 'dance floor' with me.

As we stood there a funky upbeat song started playing, I started swaying my hips left and right bumping up and down to the song. "I don't really dance, sweetheart." He said. "Oh come ooonn!" I whined out grabbing his hands shaking and dragging him along the beat of the music.

A sly grin formed on his lips and he tried his best to match your rhythm with his footsteps but not quite dancing yet. I decided to tease him for a bit so I smirked at him and turned around, back facing him now. I grabbed onto his hands from behind and placed them on my hips, hovering in front of his crotch but not touching just quite yet.

Logan's grip on your hips tightened and he pulled your back into his body, Now your we're basically dancing into his dick. Not that he minded at all.

As we danced for a bit my dance moves got even wilder, in a fun crazy way. Logan chuckled at seeing this young girl go so wild, it was real funny to see, even though the sultry eye contact you kept with him drove him crazy, and even though you we're having lots of fun dancing funky.. you still made sure to sway your hips just the right way to catch his attention.

"Now take it easy there sweetheart, Don't want you breaking a hip on your old age, right?" Logan teased. I smirked at his dumb remark and mouthed a very obvious 'whatever'.

I kept dancing facing him again with his hands still on my hips, pulling me very close to his body. I inched my face closer to his as my dancing died down a bit, I swear you probably could've heard my heartbeat at how nervous I became from being so close, face to face with this man.

My arms wrapped around his neck and I looked him from his lips, to his eyes, back to his lips again.

I felt one of his hands release it's grip from my waist snaking it to cup my cheek, carefully rubbing a thumb on my lower lip. "Tell me how old you are first, baby, maybe then you'll get a kiss." He said in a low gravelly tone. I rolled my eyes at him and spoke, "Twenty, five." I said almost sternly and pulled him finger away from my lip, pressing our lips together.

My fingers slowly reached the back of his head intertwining with his hair while his strong hands pulled me more into his body. The kiss was more heated than expected to be, my breath hitched and I pulled away. Face flushing with heat as I looked away lightly embarrassed.

Logan chuckled lightly shaking his head, "You look 18, doll, you're only a child, this is no place for you. Look for fun on the playground, not bars." He said.

"You just kissed me like that, and now you wanna decide this for me? Yeah, No thanks babe." I said sarcastically. "How about I look for fun at your place?" I bit my lip after my own bold statement but still daring to look him in the eyes. "Slow down there girl, Does your mother even know your out here?" He raised both his eyebrows, smirk never quite leaving his lips. "Oh shut up, you dick!" I gave him a light teasing tap on the chest.

I felt both his hands slap my hips lightly, as he inched closer to the side of my face breath fanning against my cheek. "Wait outside for me doll, gonna pay for our drinks." He let go of my hips completely and walked of to the bar.

I sighed but complied since, hellooo? free drinks?

I waited outside for a minute or so until the door opened and Logan walked outside, "Took you long enough." I giggled at him. He stared at you with a light smile replying nothing but grabbing a cigar from the pack inside his jacket and lighting it taking a long drag.

I eyed the man slightly "I want a drag." I suddenly said bluntly, Logan's gaze landed on the young girl again, shaking his head. "Not a chance." He immediately replied with a soft scoff. "C'mon why not?" I whined out. "Like I said, You're still just a child, be honest with me now bub. How old are you really?" With the demeanor and the way Logan had asked this question it kinda felt like talking to a dad, having given me an urge to confess everything.

I stared down at my heels kicking a small rock laying right in front of me on the ground, "19..." I mumbled softly.

In the corner of my eye I could see Logan shaking his head with a dumb grin on his face, "I was right.." He mumbled "See doll, this is exactly why your not gonna get a drag." He let the cigar touch his lips again inhaling new smoke. "Oh but a kiss was fine? You're weird.." I groaned out. "A quick kiss doesn't do as much harm as this bub" He lazily replied raising an eyebrow. I crossed my arms across my chest and rolled my eyes.

Logan started walking away from me, towards a motorcycle. I stood still on my place for a few seconds before i hurriedly followed Logan like a lost puppy. He got on the bike and looked at me over his shoulder. "Now hop on and tell me where your place is." He said smiling sharply.

"You got a bike? That's so cool!!" I said in admiration. He chuckled and patted the seat behind him. "Can't we just go to your place, c'mon I wanna have some fun!" I said in an almost joking manner, even though there was a bit of seriousness in my sentence.

I hopped on and saw him shaking his head, "Just tell me left or right." He said while starting the engine, "Hold on bub."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

As we finally reached my house I told him to quickly shut off his engine or he'd wake my parents up. "Oh, so I was right, Your mother didn't know you we're out." He bantered. I giggled and hopped off the back of the bike, "Yeah yeah, You're right again, whateveeer." I whined softly.

"Anyway thanks for dropping me off, and uh.. I didn't really get your name..?" I looked up at him innocently waiting for him to anwser.

"Name's Logan." He said gruffly. I softly repeated his name, "Your name would sound amazing in bed," I joked. He scoffed again raising both eyebrows, putting his hand on my hip giving it a light squeeze, "Yeah bub, in 10 years maybe." I groaned softly at his light dismissal but then smiling afterwards waving my hands trying to ignore it. "Okay well, mine's (Y/N).. Sooo.. hope I see you around again then, Logan..?"

His hand slowly let's go of my hip and he got ready to leave on his bike again, "Doubt it." He said looking straight in my eyes, his eyes spoke differently though, with a sort of hope to see you again, too.

I cupped his face in my hands and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before releasing him again and turning away to softly jog to my front door, I turned around one last time waving softly and mouthing a 'bye' to him. He just smiled fondly and started the engine which startled me and made me rush inside because of the loud sound.

I was inside heartbeat fast and loud as I watched him drive off through the kitchen window. I sighed deeply, 'I think I'm in love..' I mumbled to myself, but then all of a sudden heart the light switch upstairs turn on. "Fuck."

A/N: WOOOHH this one was sooo fun, ugh writing this had me glued to my screen LMFAOOO!!! let me know if ya’ll enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it, honestly I wasn’t sure if i wanted to make this smut… Buuuut I will definitely do that soon🎀🎀🎀

MUCH LOVE, CANDY ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

[stopaskinf]

💋❤️Being BTS’s Secret Admirer❤️💋

Genre: Fluff, non idol au, high school au

A/N: This was originally supposed to be a Valentine’s post🫣😞

💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️

Jin: You leave him small goodie bags filled with Laffy Taffy’s and Super Mario gummies. There’s never a name attached to the bags, but he can always tell it’s from the same person; a light blue silk bag decorated with pastel stars. The top is perfectly wrapped with a thin purple ribbon.

| Jin hasn’t received anything from you for a week. He’s become accustomed to the daily rush to his locker to grab his little gifts; so, going without them feels torturous.

Did you stop liking him?

Have you moved on to someone else?

Did you die?

He ponders woefully as he slugs to his locker. Slowly opening it, he expects nothing but is pleasantly surprised. He sees your signature bag and a note attached.

It took me forever to find this. I hope you like it! It reminds me of you.

It’s a liquid keychain in the shape of a star. Little star flakes surround the dark blue water making it look like a small galaxy; in the middle stands a smiling astronaut grinning back at him. |

Yoongi: you leave him a small Tupperware of cut/peeled fruit; green apples, oranges, pears, and pineapples fill the containers to the brim. The top of them always has a little note of encouragement to keep him going.

| Yoongi languidly paced to his locker. He had stayed up all night studying for midterms while producing his newest demo; he looked like a dead man walking.

“Yo! Yoongi!”

“Hi, Hobi.” He lifelessly sighed as he turned the combination of his decaying lock pad.

“Rough night?”

He nodded as he opened his eyes to his locker. Inside, he found a small can of cold coffee sweating lightly, as though it had been freshly placed there. Next to it lay the usual small Chococat Tupperware filled with cut apples and peeled grapes, with a note on top.

“For you. I added the drink because I thought you needed the extra kick…”

He lightly smiled as he looked at it. He’s always surprised by how lovely you are.|

Hobi: You give him a mishmash of things: small plushies, enamel pins, and bag charms of things that remind you of him. Once you even gave him a bag of crystals and rocks you had tumbled. He can’t help but feel spoiled with all the love that you give him.

|Hoseok is always in a rush to his locker. His Snoopy keychain is chaotically thrown back and forth; hitting his Charlie Brown and Hello Kitty enamel pins as he runs past the current. He was ecstatic to see what you left him today. He finally reaches it; he can’t wait to experience your daily love again.

He looks inside to find a small silver rose necklace with a row of 7s hanging off the thin chain. He then picks up a less refined green and white beaded bracelet with bubble letters reading “Lucky boy.”

He widely smiles and giggles excitedly as he puts on his new accessories. He checks himself out in the small daisy-shaped mirror in his locker; his reflection is ruddy.

“Cute!”

He hopes he can meet you soon. |

Namjoon: You give him 2nd hand books filled with love letters and poems. The pages have a mellow yellow color that he finds comforting. You dog tag and write notes on the ones that remind him of you.

| Namjoon feels flustered when he’s at his locker. He was used to being admired, but not so intimately. He walks with his head down with a shy smile on his face. He thinks of the last poem

You gave him. “I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride” It makes him exposed; he doesn’t mind it. He opens his locker; what he finds is unexpected. A small letter with a small red wax seal. It has small cracks from where the wax dried too quickly, making it look sloppy; still, he opens it softly. Inside is a small, artificially aged letter.

Dearest Moonchild,

Would you allow me to float as a small star in your vast galaxy?

If only so I could stand beside

And admire you.

He leans his head onto his locker. The handwriting is shaky and the paper has unintended tears. The ink is smudged in random spots. It’s average work at best, but it means the world to him.|

V: You give him simple crochet and needle felted gifts along with small, blunt notes. He was confused at first about your intentions, but now he keeps the crocheted items on his shelf and the stack of notes next to the wall of his desk.

| “Bro, will you stop?”

Tae crinkles his eyes and turns a blush pink as his smile becomes toothy.

Jungkook caught him looking at the sticky note you left him between their shared English class.

“I can’t help it.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes so hard that they strain. He always acts like this whenever you give him something. It was the same with the crocheted heart, the needle felted bunny, and the 2 small bear plushies holding hands that you hand stitched.

“Whipped.”

He sasses as he looks at Tae, who ventured into his rose-colored world.

He couldn’t help it; the note you had given him was so sweet.

“I like the way your lips curve.”

It was simple, but spoke miles to him. Most of your notes were simple:

“Your hair looks good.”

“I made you this.”

“It’s pretty.”

This was specific for you; it was almost poetic. He looks at the sticky note and smiles sweetly. He’ll keep this one on his desk instead.|

Jungkook: You leave him endless snacks. Banana milk, shrimp crackers, and peperos fill his locker galore. He knows they’re from the same person because you leave a miffy drawing on all his snacks.

| “I’m starving. Jungkook, can you share some of your snacks with me?” Jin groans.

“Fuck no.”

“Why not?” He demands.

“ Cause it’s mine and it’s special.” He goads.

“You’re an ass.” Jin sighs as he lays his head down on his desk.

Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said they were special; obviously, they’re nothing but convenience store snacks delicately stuffed into his locker. Still, knowing that someone spent enough time to give him gifts filled him with warmth. He quickly finishes the bag of chips and looks at the little rabbit drawing on the side of the bag; without fail, you leave that drawing on everything you give him. He traces it lightly with his fingers, pondering how you look. If you’re as sweet and cute as your gifts make you seem to be; you might be the complete opposite. You could be tough, even nasty, but Jungkook doesn’t think he’d mind either way. He just wants to see you.

“Jungkook, teacher’s on his way,” Jin whispers.

“Oh shit!”

He’ll meet you one day. |

Jimin: You leave him flowers from your mother’s flower shop and Sonny angels. He is confused on why you give them, but he uses the angels as good luck charms.

| Jimin is devastated.

The white and blue daisies you had given him on Monday had begun to wilt. He sulked to his mother with dewy eyes.

“Why don’t you try pressing them?” She said softly.

He grabs last year's math textbook and opens it to a random page. He leaves the book spread as he carefully clips the stems of his precious gift. He places them over the printed equations and begins to close the book. It feels wrong as he presses down the cover and sees the beginning crinkling between the pages; he’s ruining something beautiful, but he has to. He needs to preserve it. He never knows what can happen. He places a large textbook on it and leaves it overnight. He can’t look at it.

He wakes up early to look at the flowers. The petals flatten and come off in place; he can see the pollen dusting off, giving the obsolete textbook a muddy yellow look. Still, he smiles fondly at the flowers; it’s imperfect, but beautiful. He takes a picture of it and leaves it as his wallpaper. He looks at it during his breaks and it gives him butterflies.

The next day you give him dwarf sunflowers. |

💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋❤️

[ghostlyerlkonig]

i'm doing @batmanisagatewaydrug 's 2025 book bingo and 9 books in feels like a decent 'let's check in on this' time, with thoughts and feelings.

The Magicians by Lev Grossman (2009) - Feels like it walked right out of 2009. I did not love any of the characters in this book, they are almost all major dickwads but I was enraptured by seeing what happened to them. 4.5/5.

The Magician King by Lev Grossman (2011) - I like the main cast now and care about them, granted half of the book was more interesting than the other due to prior book build up. 5/5.

The Magician's Land by Lev Grossman (2014) - Good conclusion to the trilogy. I still like and root for all the characters (except one). The ending felt A Little rushed but not in a bad way. 4/5.

The Bright Sword by Lev Grossman (2024) - I fuck with this book so hard. For a historical fiction that does not stray tooooo far from it while also making Arthurian magics real, it never once attempts to 'explain' certain factors that do not need explaining. Best handling of a trans character I've read from a cis author in a HF. I'm biased to Arthurian based works but man this was so good. I finished it a month ago and I'm still thinking about it. 5/5.

Bring Me The Head Of Susan Lomond: A High School Story by Connor B. (2025) - Great queer comic from an artist I like a lot. I read most of it out loud with voiced because I could hear them so clearly. 5/5.

I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons by Peter S. Beagle (2024) - Beagle has the most wonderful way of writing the silliest shit and making it fun and beautiful. Not a complicated read by any means but I enjoyed a return to his voice, especially since he's in his 80s and has been put through the fucking ringer over the last 20~ years. 4/5.

Between Two Fires by Christopher Buehlman (2012) - Made me think more than I wanted it to. Somehow the surprise queer character was treated better than I expected (and a little worse). I can't believe it had me rooting for a pope for a solid 5 pages. Made me pull my European History text book from high school out of my closet so I could figure out how many miles one guy traveled and how bad the Bubonic Plague was in the towns he would have passed. Leaves a lot to your own imagination to freak you out with your own visual interpretation of the Christian mythos' angels and demons. And perhaps the giant catfish in Chernobyl. 4.5/5.

Are You My Mother? A Comic Drama by Alison Bechdel (2012) - Psychology heavy. I've avoided reading it for a while due to how Fun Home makes me feel. Bechdel's illustrations are great as always. One review I read described it as "what happened to the ground after it is broken" and yeah. Rereading Fun Home before I started it didn't help the emotions beside parsing them better. 5/5.

Mood Machine: The Rise of Spotify and the Costs of the Perfect Playlist by Liz Pelly (2025) - Wild book. Feels like an exposé more than a business book. Spotify is so fucked up. I knew this. Now I know it with more detail. Not the most outsider approachable if you aren't aware of the history of how predatory the music business is, but the MOST important things are well explained and terms are easily google-able. It dropped some details in regard to specifically Gen Z artists as victims of this new mainstream system, but that's my only loud gripe. I've been rethinking the relationship with music I developed while living in a 13x13ft room for all of 2020-21 and how I've experienced a "returned to form" from that constant need of background to enjoying records and albums as they exist for listening and paying attention to over the last year, this book solidified that active return to me as a good choice. I love music and what it is without capitalism breathing down its neck. 4.75/5.

Other books read (that i'm not putting on the bingo): Lord of the Rings Trilogy, The Art of War of the Rohirrim, Fun Home, Tree and Leaf, and Bisclavret

Next up:

Dudes Rock: A Celebration of Queer Masculinity in Speculative Fiction edited by Romanus and Candra

My Father's Dragon by Ruth Stiles Gannett

Bury Your Gays by Chuck Tingle

All Down Darkness Wide: A Memoir by Seán Hewitt

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

Reclaiming the Heartland: Lesbian and Gay Voices from the Midwest by Karen L. Osborne & William J. Spurlin

Ma and Me A Memoir by Putsata Reang

[namgyunation]

Do you see Nam-gyu introducing his s/o to drugs or do you think he’d be the type to shield you from that type of thing?

cw; talking about drug usage and unhealthy stuff here

mmmm based off of my interpretation of him, i don’t think he’d really try to “shield” you. just doesn't seem like something he'd do

i also don't think he would gaf if you knew about his substance abuse. you're his s/o. if you're with him, he's prob thinking "this is what you signed up for when you got with me." i could see him hiding it from his family, but not you.

with a job like his, it'd be pretty hard to hide, anyways. if anything, i think he'd try to at least hide or be vague about the intensity of the drugs he takes and just how addicted / dependent he is on them. he'd probably try to convince you that it's just something casual that he does or brush you off if you display any concern

i could see him wanting to keep the details of his drug usage off your radar, but not because he’s like. concerned that he’ll be a bad influence or rub off on you, or anything. nor would he do it with the intent of trying to protect you or keep you "innocent" / drug-free.

i don’t think he’d enthusiastically be like “here baby, snort this!!! take this pill!!! ❤️” out of nowhere or straight from the jump when he enters a relationship with his s/o. he also doesn’t seem like the type of dude to go out of his way to share what drugs he’s taking or even just his emotions in general. he seems like he’d be very closed off and be more than happy to keep that part of his life from you if you never asked / pushed the issue.

i think he’d just want to avoid his s/o giving him a hard time: asking too many questions about what he’s doing, how it’s affecting him, his health, their finances, and their relationship, and/or trying to get him to stop. he just wants to do what he wants while still keeping you in his life. he doesn't want you to complicate or overdramaticize things with your concern. he knows what hes doing and can handle himself.

but i think if you expressed any sort of interest or vague curiosity, he might initially be shocked, find it amusing, and be surprisingly interested in the idea of introducing you to something, jokingly offer to get you stuff, though he genuinely would if you just straight up asked him to do so.

i think he’d find it interesting / somewhat exciting to see your first-time reactions to things and would find himself enjoying it more than he expected to somewhere along the way, though i don’t think he’d force it on you. if you wanted to stop, he would be cool with that and drop it immediately. it doesn't matter to him whether or not you do drugs or are on the same page as him. he's doing his thing, and you're doing yours. he wouldn't mind and would be just as open to it if you were to ask him about it again later down the line, though.

if you asked him to give you something and lead you through it, i think he’d derive some sort of enjoyment from knowing a lot about something that you don’t, being your sole source of information on the topic, and knowing he's the first and only person that you experience those types of things with.

i could see him being an obnoxious ass trip-sitter just because he thinks it's funny / even getting some sort of ego because of it.

eg. if you start off with weed, he’s laughing at you for coughing, not knowing how to inhale right, and/or making a stupid, exaggerated face when you exhale. when you overestimate your tolerance and get high as fuck, he’s purposefully putting stupid shit on the tv to gauge your reaction (maybe some dumb children’s cartoon or compilation of idk. plants growing timelapse), laughing at you when you're super focused on it (not mean, just teasing / amused), and maybe he takes a few selfies with you to tease you about it later. he would smoke with you, too, but purposefully stays mostly sober so he can take care of you. also, his tolerance is naturally way higher than yours, and i think he'd find it funny if you got high extremely quick.

he says shit like "oh, i invited your entire family and also a hundred of your friends over to the apartment, and they're outside right now. i hope you don't mind" just to get a funny reaction out of you.

he's not entirely mean, though, and despite having his fun, he still wanted to make sure that your experience was good and comfortable from the get-go. he thought ahead and set out snacks and drinks for when you inevitably got the munchies / dry mouth. he has a line up of funny things to watch and a blanket set out to make sure that you're fine. he doesn't leave you alone. even though it's just weed, he doesn't want to scare you.

he feels good and pats himself on the back for taking care of you. he probably enjoys knowing that in that moment, you're completely depending on him and looking at him like he has all the knowledge in the world. he deeply enjoys the fact that you trust him enough to rely on him and trust that you'll come out of the experience okay, because he's there.

nowww, getting on to other drugs outside of weed, i could see him being more serious about it and wanting to make sure that you're okay. he's open and more than happy to provide you with the things you're showing interest in. sharing his knowledge that's completely foreign and new to you and bringing you into 'his world' is satisfying for him, but once it starts to get a little more dodgy / serious, he's very firm on asking you if you're sure and asks a lot more questions. "what are you feeling?" "what do you see?" "do you need water?" "tell me what's going on." etc. he doesn't completely coddle you, but he's not going to leave you alone, either.

also, i was obsessed with breaking bad in middle school LMAO, so it's leaking into this post... sometimes when i think about nam-gyu, i can't help but think about jessie pinkman. there's a particular scene in the show where jessie's gf, jane, introduces him to heroin for the first time, and i think i could see nam-gyu being like jane in this particular scene, with jessie being his s/o that he's introducing shit to.

over time, if you continued to express clear, enthusiastic interest and prove to him that you could handle it, i think that's when he'd finally let himself relax and do drugs with you, rather than staying sober to monitor you. i think he'd grow accustomed to doing things with you, almost falling into a routine or having it be "your thing." he'd sneak things from work that other people gave to him or things that he was supposed to be giving to VIPs and bring it home to share with you. he'd find that getting high with you specifically was more fun for him than when he did it with others.

ending it off with something somewhat lighthearted: after a while, nam-gyu realizes that he's actually kind of excited to have a long-term buddy to get high with. he would start suggesting that the two of you smoke a joint and then go to the aquarium, art gallery, the zoo, etc. if he got something new, he wouldn't let himself try it and wait until he got home to be with you.

tldr; i don't think he'd shield you, but he wouldn't be super open about it either if you didn't ask or push him to talk about it. if you asked him to introduce you to it, he'd find himself oddly excited by the idea. he'd do it but would make sure to keep you comfortable and ask you over and over if you were sure once you got to the more serious shit. he wouldn't push it, either, in the case that you wanted to stop or were uncertain.

[pineconepie]

bratty reader and the dads? I can already imagine Vincent feeding into it as a joke and then being annoyed when it bites him in the ass lol

I got a few similar asks to this one haha. Oh, and you're 100% correct about Vincent LOL

.

Octavian would find it amusing and cute, but not enough to indulge your behaviors, at least not most of the time. You should expect the "calm dad voice" laced with poison, like "I'm sorry?" "Are you sure you wanted to say that?" etc. etc.

He'd give you many chances before he either tells you to go to your room or sit in the corner to think about what you've done.

Worst case scenario, he'll make you write a formal letter of apology.

.

Vincent thinks its cute and will humor it at first, even egging you on by teasing you, but it does wear thin after a certain point and he'll give you a warning.

If you still continue acting out, he'll drag you to your room and make you stay there for an hour or so to think about what you did.

Worst case scenario he'll wash your mouth out with soap and ask for an apology after. Then he'd be cooing and babying you once again, especially if you're crying.

.

Indigo is confused. Merfolk don't typically have such attitudes, but even more strange to him, he doesn't know how to fix it.

"Do you hate Papa now?? What did I do wrong??" "Don't look at me like that, please... you're breaking my heart, little one, just tell me what I did wrong..."

He'd start crying if it continues, but he'd try to appease you by bringing you extra gifts and cuddles, even if you push him away. He hates the idea of punishing you, so at most he'll just drag you to the nest for snuggles, thinking its the only way to make you calm down. Personal space is not his strong suit.

.

Magnus won't tolerate any sort of disobedience from his hatchling. You will behave, that is simply the law. He will scold you in a very stern voice, and if that doesn't work, worse case scenario is he'll pick you up by the hem of your shirt and place you somewhere scary, like a high branch or close to a wolves den.

He'd be watching to make sure you don't actually get hurt, but he hopes the fear will make you realize you need him because he is your father.

What do you mean this is a bad parenting tactic?? All dragonkind used it on their little ones!

.

Seradiel adores a bratty reader <3 he wants you to act up, because he wants you to act like the baby he remembers and throw tantrums. That means you've fully embraced him as your parent, right??

And obviously throwing a tantrum means you need his guidance.

He would do a good job hiding the adoration he feels from you acting bratty, and he'll scold you accordingly, putting you in time out or taking away your electronics so you have to spend more time with Papa.

[violetcookie2007]

My favorite thing about the Fantasy High fandom is that we have all kinda expected that the Bad Kids do NOT know where any of their stuff is.

Like Jawbone will walk into Kristen's bedroom and see a white button up. And that's all fine and good, Kristen has some, until you pick it up and see that it is WAY too small for her. And then you see a hoodie that is way too big with oil stains and wonder how long these have been in there without anyone realizing that they aren't her's?

Or you will go into Fabian's bedroom and see that he has a board on his wall straight out of murder mystery with books on religion and prophecies all over the floor. Someone wanted to ask questions but that he picks one of the books up and puts it in his bag and acts like nothing's wrong.

Or Gorgue will be going through his bag and takes out a calligraphy pen, a container of bullets, and anti anxiety meds. It took everyone in class a minute to remember that he doesn't use a gun, they still don't know what the others are his or not

Or Riz will be going through his briefcase and pulls out several stacks of paperwork. Someone in his rogue class went through it and soon realize that a lot of it is not his handwriting. Some of it is half done lyrics in fast writing, some of it is blueprints in what you think is Gnomish but can't quite tell because it is sloppy, some of it is beautiful Elfish and wizard schoolwork.

Or Adaine will just, pull out car keys, look at them, and put them back in her pocket and pull out the thing she needs. People still don't know if she drives a car or not and there is an ongoing bet or what car she drives.

Or Fig will walk around school with a jacket on, sometimes it will be her leather jacket, sometimes it will be a different one. Sometimes it would be denim or a varsity jacket, sometimes it will be a gray hoodie that doesn't fit well or a yellow one.

The only thing the school knows is that they don't know who owns what and at this point neither do the Bad Kids.

[rottenclowndoll]

Psychos in love

Slashers X Masochist F reader

Warning! Masochism, cannibalism, SH, manipulation, stalking, Sex mentioned.

Featuring: Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, Bo Sinclair.

Jason Voorhees

He heard something behind him, the sound of a camera click. When he followed the sound he walked into a cabin he had no idea was there.

The walls covered in pictures of him, covered in red lipstick kisses and hearts.

He saw you in the corner watching him with the most crazed smile on your face.

You ran up to him not intimidated by him one bit, you didn’t touch him respecting his space but fiddled with your fingers as you welcomed yourself to him.

“Jason?”

You called his name and from that moment on he knew he had to keep you.

Though he didn’t expect you to be the dangerous one.

Until he saw you killing the naked girls because you didn’t want him to look at any girl but you.

“Mine! Mine! Mine!”

Is all you repeated while butchering her with a knife in her chest.

He didn’t want you to get hurt so he tried to keep you away from the people he killed nor did he want to scare you off though you just kept on surprising him.

“You look so hot when you kill people Jay.”

What?

Everytime he was done a mass murder you’d rubbed his muscles and call him your big strong boy.

Pulling up his shirt and licking the blood off his abdomen or sucking his bloody dirt covered fingers with your ass in the air.

“Can you slice me Jay?”

Your constant begging to feel his machete slice your skin, using the edge of the machete to get yourself off despite the blood coating it. You had no shame, sometimes he thought you were crazier than him.

Despite how crazy and sadistic you were, he loved you and he loved how possessive you were.

-

Michael Myers

Michael knew you were watching him, he was planning to kill you as soon as his Halloween high was over.

Though he just couldn’t fucking find you, he heard your camera click every time he made a kill.

Sometimes when he was in his home alone which angered him.

The only time he ever saw you is when he was hurt, when someone had shot him with a shotgun, and God he never saw you in general, but he never expected to see you angry.

He thought maybe you were an obsessive journalist who wanted to kill him, but watching you repeatedly stab the man who dared to raise a gun to him.

“Are you proud of me?”

You were a fucking psycho, initially he attacked you. His knife in your abdomen yet all he was met was with your pleasure filled screams and moans telling him to go deeper and to stab you more.

Eventually he left your limp body bleeding out on the ground only to see you the next day stitched up and ready for more.

He couldn’t fucking get rid of you, or maybe he didn’t want to.

He didn’t need a robin, he didn’t need a fucking sidekick. But to see you slitting the throats of whoever got in his way of killing Laurie aided him more than he’d like to admit.

“Go get her baby.”

He didn’t need your fucking support, but God he didn’t want to disappoint you.

When you were eventually caught and put in an asylum he broke you out, totally a coincidence that he just happened to come across it on his way.

He’ll just pretend he didn’t see you slicing your skin while moaning out your name, trying to get his undivided attention by grinding on him everytime he got close to you.

He couldn’t get rid of you, so maybe you’d just have to stay.

-

Freddy Krueger

Lucid fucking dreamers, the absolute worst. He practically almost went back to hell when you scared the holy shit out of him.

Sitting on a leather couch in his boiler room. Immediately you were met with an attack and his perverted antics.

But you were just as much as a pervert as he was, hell, you fucked when you first met!

His blades in you stomach with your legs clasped around his waist.

“Big dick demon.”

Is what you called him and he’d never let it die away. You killed together, when he didn’t have enough power to kill anyone he’d send you their very way.

Who’d expect a pretty lil’ ole’ thing to be working with Freddy? If anything they’d think you were an angel.

Though sometimes you got in arguments between kills, when he’d or you fucked something up.

“How fuckin’ weak are you to lose to a kid!”

Sometimes he wanted to kill you but he couldn’t, smack the smirk off your face but it’s quickly made up with a hate fucking and more killing after.

_

Bo Sinclair

How the fuck did you get in his gas stations basement, you were tearing all the photos of the woman off his wall.

When he grabbed your hair to slam you down you just started moaning and grinding on him which really took him for a mindfuck.

“The fuck is wrong witcha’.”

You were batshit crazy, handing him a nearby knife and telling him to stab you and when he did he was only graced with your moaning and thanking.

He brought you to Vincent to show off his fangirl, watching you strip yourself naked and cut yourself bloody so he could take photos of you just like the girls on the wall.

Even telling him he could kill you to make it picture perfect.

You were his walking doll, willing to do whatever he wanted you to. Click, click, click, that all to famous camera you had pictures of him all over the place always rubbing him telling him how handsome he was.

Rubbing his muscles calling him your strong productive boy only to be met with a-

“Damn right I am.”

Both of you were equally jealous, so instead of him flirting with whatever couple or whoever came by you were posing as his girlfriend.

Well you were.

“You were flirting with that bitch you asshole!”

You made him feel so manly yet like a bitch, slapping him around every time you thought he was even remotely flirting with anyone. Not like he didn’t like it, sometimes he would flirt with them on purpose just to feel your hand whip across his face.

Safe to say you both were some masochistic fucks.

-

Bubba sawyer

You want him? Him and only him? Poor boy was so lonely and desperate he immediately fell for your love and manipulation.

He wanted to keep you a secret, now it was you being captured.

He was shy and flustered when he saw all the photos you had of him.

Though it came to a brink when you made him something to eat, being nonverbal he tried to explain how he was a cannibal without saying it, not like he could but nor did he want to run you away. Until you showed him the body you got the meat from and that it was 100% human besides the vegetables.

You fed him and yourself parts of the meat, looking into him lovingly as you unwrapped his mask and kissed his scarred and deformed face.

Explaining to him how you wanted him to cut a piece of your flesh off and eat it.

He refused, he didn’t want to hurt you no way!

All your begging and cries for him to refused only to find you cutting a piece of your stomach flesh off and handing it to him to eat.

He couldn’t resist the fresh flesh in front of him, your pleading telling him how much it hurt and that it would be a waste if he didn’t eat it.

And of course like the good boy he was, he did!

He watched you squeal like a little girl jumping up and down despite the chunk of flesh missing from your stomach and the blood leaking from it.

Watching his eyes darkly look at the blood hungrily as you bent over and let him chew and drink from your stomach.

Moaning and telling him how ever so grateful you were. This was a rare occasion, every time he did something that made you happy he deserved a treat!

So of course he’d get a piece of you, literally.

-

[katuschka]

Olalla Chapter Fourteen 1/2

Jake Kiszka x f!OC x Josh Kiszka 2.666 words So, once again I decided to split the chapter in two, not because of the lenght, but because it's quite heavy and might me more palatable when served in smaller doses (for the readers as well as for me). As I said at the end of the previous one, this was always my plan. The fact that I reached this part of the story NOW is a disturbingly peculiar coincidence, and I think it's inevitably reflected in the writing.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): indirect descriptions and mentions of war and invasion (no gore), psychical defeat and depression, incensed arguing, anger, language (even though most of it is in Polish), and as always, an unhealthy dose of heavy emotions and feelings

If you like the story and want to get notifications, you can join the Taglist

Previous chapter Olalla masterpost

Agnieszka, 23rd March 2026

I think that the worst part about it was that the world around us was still shrouded in darkness when we got woken up by the piercing sound. Nothing else happened, but you simply never know what the next second might bring when you can’t see. I wrapped myself up in my terry bathrobe and ran into the hallway to put all the lights on, ignoring the frightened faces of our visitors in their open doors. They kept asking what was going on and I had to reply with honesty that I had no idea, although we all suspected it and the possibility made my stomach turn violently. 

I met dad in the common room. He had already switched the TV on and was scrolling through his phone at the same time, and I stood frozen in the doorway, feeling my heartbeat rise with each passing second until it felt like I would suffocate. 

He remained silent, acknowledging my presence but staying in his own mental bubble for a few more minutes until he finally turned around towards me and calmly spoke: “Why?”

Why, indeed. 

One minute you’re a complex human being and within seconds, the tables turn and they reduce you to a mere ant, trying to run away from being squashed with the thumb of their dirty hands. 

Still, when dawn broke and I looked out my bedroom window, everything looked almost the same as before, filling me with a strange – and false – sense of calm at first. The garden was dusted with fresh snow, just as it happened almost every other day at this time of year. It would melt by midday, but it made our mornings sugar sweet. Same with white frost. It turned the whole town into a white wonderland, making us ignore the imminent danger that kept lurking just behind the corner. My sister was not immune to that, but it was always too easy to forget about the rest of the world here. 

Not this morning. 

This morning I saw Svetlana sitting on the frost-covered bench near the fireplace in the farthest corner of the garden, in just her pajamas and slippers despite the cold, clutching her head with both her hands as if in pain. 

She was in pain. 

Broken hearts hurt more than broken bones. 

Maya called at six thirty. I expected that, as that’s normally the time she wakes up. She cried and sobbed and almost screamed at times – not at me, just out of frustration – and all the time I tried to remain calm. So did dad when I put her on speaker because she suggested we all just pack our bags and drive straight to Frankfurt as soon as possible, leaving everything behind. Mama, on the other hand, was calm. With her usual, steely and dispassionate voice, she scolded Maya for being completely out of her mind, telling her we would not become a burden to her family. Needless to say, we agreed with her. What could we possibly do there? Me? I’d manage to fend for myself, no doubt. But my parents?

Besides, I’m not the one who runs away. I wanted to be useful, to face whatever was coming with my head held high and to help others do the same. Just like we always had. We’re not ants!

I spent the rest of the morning immersed in administrative work as our guests, most of them leaving in a hurry, all needed help at once. 

It also helped me keep my own feelings at bay, for which I was grateful. Some emotions are easy to navigate, but not hatred. I always resented the feeling, but it’s too powerful and nearly impossible to suppress when you’re a mere human. 

Two families decided to stay, though. One from Warsaw, another one from Poznan. They concluded they wouldn’t be safe at home and we naturally offered them shelter for as long as they needed. 

A woman from one senior house in Krakow contacted me just after lunch. They needed to transfer their clients to safety. Of course we agreed. There weren’t going to be any tourists anytime soon. It was actually a magnificent idea, and my defiant determination to be as useful as possible only grew. 

Things were changing so fast that my head was spinning by three pm, with my body overdosed with adrenaline but low on sugar. Agitation makes me forget to eat, until my body reminds me in painful ways. I had been up since 4 am, functioning solely on one cup of coffee I managed to drink before Maya’s phone call. So, as my hands started to shake and my legs turned to jelly, I sat behind the reception counter, quickly ate a few pieces of chocolate I had stacked in the drawer next to my chair, and rested my head on my crossed arms in front of my laptop for a while. 

I must have dozed off, being suddenly roused by a ringing phone next to my head. Disoriented, I had trouble remembering where I was, much less being able to determine the source of the noise. It took me a few more seconds to collect myself, but as soon as I saw a foreign, but strangely familiar phone number on the display, my heart freaked out again. I felt myself panicking, unsure what to do, and the phone continued to ring. It took me another while before I finally pressed the answer button. 

“Willa Eulalia, Agnieszka Kowalska speaking. How can I help you?” I answered mechanically. It was the best thing I could think of at that moment to keep my voice steady.

“Oh, thank GOD! Why the fuck aren’t you answering your phone? Jeeesus, you scared us!”

Phone? My phone... Oh yes, because this wasn’t… “I think I left it in my bedroom. What do you want Joshua?” I asked cautiously. 

“Are you ok? Everyone safe? I tried to face call you, but you didn’t… anyway, nevermind, we need to talk…”

“What do you want?” I repeated in exasperation. I didn’t feel anger. To be honest, I can’t say with certainty how I really felt, as I was getting quite lost in it. Hearing his voice again was unsettling, and it only added to the whirlwind currently swirling inside my head, but at the same time, there was something strangely soothing about it. I had been addicted to it once, and I felt myself falling into relapse pretty quickly. 

“Please, could we do this face to face? I’m… it’s serious.” 

I hesitated. What could he possibly want to discuss now? No, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t that obtuse. ‘Willingly in denial’ might be a better description. 

“Olalla?”

“Hang on…,” I tapped on the touchpad and the laptop screen in front of me came on. “Ok, I’m putting this down. You can call me now,” I said and pressed the side button without waiting for his reply. 

“So what do you… oh… it’s both of you.” The possibility hadn’t occurred to me and I was now literally facing my worst nightmare. I’m not exaggerating. Those nightmares nearly made me go insane in January. Joshua smiled weakly, his eyes soft and full of affection, just how I remembered them. Even though that only made me feel worse, at least he was legible… I dare say I’ve always been good at reading people, although I admit I failed a few times... And Jake was one of those few exceptions, with his lips always pressed together defensively as if he expected the worst from everyone. I was definitely not interested in having to deal with it at that moment. 

“Could you please take off your sunglasses at least now?!?” I snapped, finally getting angry. To my surprise, he immediately obliged. But it was nothing in comparison to his eyes looking puffy. 

“Hello, Veela.”

I didn’t want them to know how it all made me feel. They sat there… somewhere… next to each other, both looking like two schoolboys ready to get berated for whatever folly they had done. Both pairs of hands pressed together in silent anticipation. “I’m waiting,” I said coldly. 

Joshua cleared his throat. “Well, first of all, we’re glad to see that you’re ok…” He paused and looked at Jake, who bowed his head down. I was getting impatient. 

“And?”

“And…” he took a deep breath, “and we want to make sure it stays that way.” He looked at Jake again. Something was off, hidden between the lines and I couldn’t decipher it. 

“Okay… so… I assure you I’ll do my best. If that’s all, I really have a lot of work to do right now, so…” I was ready to close the laptop but Joshua suddenly became very agitated, making my hand stop in mid air. 

“No, Agnieszka, wait! You don’t understand. You need to get out of there.” 

I think that was the first time I actually heard him call me by my real name, but that wasn’t what made me halt. I stared at him in utter disbelief for a while before I blurted out: “Ja pierdolę! Who are you to tell me I don’t understand?! And to tell me what to do?! I know very well what’s going on! Why do you care anyway? Gówno ci do tego!” 

My sudden outburst wasn’t fair and I knew that. I regretted it almost immediately. However, his words ignited something in me, making me finally lose control over all those thoughts and feelings I had been trying to suppress the whole day. To top it all, I started crying. He was right, in a way. I really couldn’t understand it. I still had no answer to dad’s question. Why…

Joshua looked defeated. He started rubbing his chin with the back of his hand while staring somewhere above their own web camera. Jake kept examining the floor, as if he couldn’t even bear looking at me. 

“I’m sorry,” Joshua finally whispered. 

“No, I am,” I sobbed. “But don’t tell me I don’t understand. It’s ME who’s here for fucks sake. I was woken by the sirens and I have been dealing with the consequences ever since. But don’t worry. I’ll be fine. It’s you who…”

“Stop it. You’re right. Of course you’re right. What I meant was…”

“We’re in Paris, actually…” Jake’s head had snapped up during my second outburst and now he suddenly interrupted his brother with a steady hand squeezing Joshua’s shoulder. “Have you watched the news this afternoon? You probably have, but…”

“No…” I answered hesitantly, but truthfully. 

“It’s bad. Really bad. It’s not just you, but Baltics too. We just watched it. It happened maybe… an hour ago?” He looked at Joshua again, who simply nodded. “The tour just got canceled. What he really meant is that we want to help keep you safe. We want to get you out of there. It was an insane move and everyone says that it won’t last long, but it could get really nasty in the meantime.” 

Jake paused, but kept watching me. Another moment passed in silence while I tried to process it all. “Why?” I finally choked out. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to get me out of here?”

Jake squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before he answered. “I already told you.” 

Joshua rolled his eyes. I almost missed the subtle gesture, but it reflected what I was thinking. Not enough. Even though it was the last thing Jake told me – or the last thing I remembered him telling me – it was not enough. We had never been sincere with each other, always speaking in hints and riddles, and it resulted in creating a huge rift between us. I didn’t blame him, or me, or anyone. At least not anymore. It was nobody’s fault, just a fact. The three of us just found ourselves in an impossible situation and if anything, the current one convinced me that me ending it before the circumstances could inevitably force us to had indeed been the only right thing to do. I also immediately regretted answering the phone. The video call seemed not only hurtful, but also completely pointless. 

“No.”

Isn’t it strange how a one-syllable word can hold so many meanings? I realized it only after I said it, and watched the understanding appear on their faces. A no to their proposal, sure, but at the same time also a dismissal of Jake’s alleged reasons. He lowered his head again in defeat and once again squeezed his brother’s shoulder.

“Olalla, please, I beg you. Listen…” It was Joshua now, trying to persuade me with those puppy eyes again, but the ship had sailed.

“You two are crazy. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, It’s almost impossible for you to help me in any way, so what are you playing at? And telling me that I don’t understand, to top it all…” 

“Almost, but not entirely… Jake?” 

And once again I watched them – completely flabbergasted – exchange looks. I dreaded to ask. I met Joshua’s eyes again and silently begged him to NOT say any more and just end the call mercifully, wishing me good luck or something. He just opened his mouth, but Jake exhaled impatiently and beat him to it. 

“I want to marry you, Veela.”

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!?! You’re a fool, Jacob. FOOL!”

“It was actually my idea…” Joshua chimed in. 

“And that makes it better!” I spat disdainfully and ended the call abruptly. They tried to reconnect, but I switched the laptop off. I didn’t answer the incoming phone call either. After all the time that had passed, when I thought I was just getting my sanity back, they did THAT. 

Later that day, after I finally managed to eat a slice of bread with butter and thus give my body just enough energy to keep on living, I finally got back up to my room to compose myself and take a much needed shower. Reluctantly, I checked the phone as well. There were several missed calls, mostly from old friends living in Krakow. 

There were, however, several text messages from Jake. The old me would have deleted them, just like I did back in August, but those two bastards broke and changed me since then. So, with a beating heart, I sat down on my bed and read the whole thread. 

Kuba Starlight: I totally understand, Veela. It was blunt. 

Kuba Starlight: But please believe me when I say that I mean it. I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you. 

Kuba Starlight: You want me to say it again? Fine. 

Kuba Starlight: I love you. 

Kuba Starlight: Josh didn’t tell me to do it. He only said there was a chance you would say yes. I had to try.

Kuba Starlight: And I understand you might need some time. Even though we don’t really have it. 

Kuba Starlight: Josh is flying back home with the rest, but I’m staying here. I’ll wait. 

Kuba Starlight: Your kisses don’t lie, you know? You might have fooled me once, but not the second time. Not after he confirmed it was true. Just please, if you no longer feel that way, tell me now and you’ll never hear from me again. 

The phone screen was covered with droplets of my tears by the time I stopped reading, distorting the last words just like my mind had been distorting the reality when he had kissed me again and I had felt those raw emotions running through my veins, poisoning my blood even more than all the vodka I had drunk. 

I typed the text. I wanted to lie. I almost hit the send button… and then I deleted it. I couldn’t do it. For hours since the face call, I had been hearing those words, echoing at the back of my head: Come, my love. My conscious mind rejected it, but something deep inside my chest kept fighting back, making it hard to breathe.

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