#I CANT FIND HER LAST NAME ANYWHERE

[whitmasterenthusiast]

lets normalize calling jodies character from the 2006 film venus jessie hotgirl pls ♥️

[jedimitsopolis]

and some saw requests from twitter too!!

(here's the post with the little faces if anyone's interested!!)

[metalgearawesome]

Woahg... feeling shitty but hey I am alive

[thenightwolf51]

"Danny was born a Wayne" AU except he's Bruce's grand uncle. The result of a one time drunken affair, shortly before Kenneth Wayne's death, to a young unmarried woman who gave the baby up for adoption.

(Whether the Fenton's, and therefore Amity, were just ahead of their times or the DC timeline is shifted a bit so that DP happens in its cannon era is up to you. Dealers choice, though now that i know about her i just love badass widowed prohibition leader Laura Elizabeth Wayne)

Danny grows up knowing hes adopted and loved by the Fentons but something (dealer's choice) happens and he loses his family and friends (maybe the whole town goes too?). In an attempt to avoid a Dan situation he flees into the Infinite Realm and doesn't stop.

He just wanders, time passes in its weird Realms way, not that Danny truly notices. A protector spirit thats lossed everything it protected. Its a wonder he doesn't fade and he actually might've if it wasn't for his human side.

But its a tug at his core that brings him from his near catatonic wandering. Gone before he can even understand it but enough to shake him back to himself. Enough to know that hes nowhere near ready to go anywhere familiar so he continues on, his wandering no less pointless but at least he's aware again.

What feels like a relatively short time later he gets another tug, and this time he manages to follow it.

He follows it invisibly through a natural portal that drops him somewhere in New Jersey and all the way to a fancy hospital room in the gloomiest city he's ever seen.

In there he sees his half brother Patrick Wayne, though he wont figure out their connection for a few more years, holding little Agatha. She's adorable in her little dress and pigtails and her sweet face causes that familiar tug he recognizes from what must have been six years ago given the girls age.

Then a nurse comes in and hands a little bundle to what must be the mother (whos name i cant find) and Danny takes one look at the little core tugger who brought him here and just melts. Even without knowing yet that this is his last remaining family, his instincts latch on and he vows to protect and care for the Waynes.

And he does.

He finds his forgetful brother's documents and keeps Aggy company when everyone else is busy and soothes baby Thomas so his poor sister-in-law can get some more sleep. He ices fevers and bruised knees and helps on later games of hide and seek.

He very rarely becomes visible and only to the children. His grief over the Fenton's convinces him its better to protect his new family from the shadows.

Danny explores every inch of the manor, including secret passages and an underground cave system. He claims a forgotten room in the back of the attic as his own, which over the years fill up with knickknacks, heirlooms, and pictures of the family. Even a gift or two from Agatha, who hadn't stopped believing in their shadowy guardian like her brother did when Danny felt they were too old to see him without drawing suspicion.

The manor becomes his haunt and he always knows where each family member is within it. And when any guests have some no good intentions.

And when baby Bruce is born tugging at his core and with the bluest little eyes, he welcomes the fussy little thing. And makes sure dear Martha never knows just how fussy baby Bruce really is, otherwise she might've never had a full nights sleep.

Danny blames himself for not being there when Thomas and Martha die, and promises to never leave Bruces side, practically becoming the boy's living shadow. Watching over him as he gets older, secretly aiding him in his training. Danny feels a bit of pride when Bruce takes some inspiration from the old stories Thomas told him of the shadowy Wayne family protector when creating his Batman identity, glad his nephew still remembers him even if he hasn't shown himself since the now young man was six.

Danny continues to protect and care for the family in a variety of ways over the years even as the family grows.

Lightening Alfred's workload, softening Dick's falls, calming Jason's temper both pre and post pit, hiding Tim's coffee when the boy hasn't slept in far too long, providing plenty of shadows and hiding nooks for Cass, helping Damian hide the litter of kittens he found.

And no one seems to know he's there, except maybe Cass and he's pretty sure Alfred has been know since he first started working for the family. No one knows, that is, until Duke Thomas moves in and lookes right at him watching invisibly from the sidelines.

(@omnicrafts @dcxdpdabbles @hdgnj @ailithnight @nelkcats @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 i dont know, the main point of all this is that Danny's been protecting the Wayne family for decades and no one, except maybe Alfred, knew until Duke moved in)

[f0point5]

The new fic was wonderful, I cant get enough of Em and Max I hope you never stop writing about them! That being said, I'm curious, would you write about one (or all four!) Times Max had to run around a city looking for Emelia?

Okay I’m sorry about how this turned out 🫣 I know in the fic it referenced that Max didn’t know there was a problem and only found out once she left but I am taking some artistic license with this being one of the four times! Don’t hate me 🫠

I did actually start a different one featuring Emilia’s dad so I may finish that one and we will get a funnier/more on brand instance of Emilia running away but…I hope you enjoy this one in the meantime!

✨Set in September 2021✨

They nicknamed her “The Bolter”

Max watches the sunrise in total, deafening silence. He thinks at some point he gets up to feed the cats. He thinks, but he isn’t sure. He’s so tired. His eyes are watering. It’s not tears. He can’t sleep. He wants to. He doesn’t want to. It doesn’t matter if he wants to, he can’t. He can’t sleep knowing you’re not home. He can’t sleep not knowing you’re safe.

He looks at his phone again. He has it on loud and on vibrate but he still checks. Still hopes.

Daniel: Did you hear from her?

Lando: She’s not answering me sorry

Clara Albizzi: You fucked up

That last one makes me feel sick. He did fuck up. He knew the second he’d said it. The way your face just fell and you couldn’t look at him. The way your shoulders hunched over.

You’re the reason she’s not here!

You hadn’t even packed a bag. Hadn’t even taken keys for a car. You’d just picked up the shoes that were lying in the hallway and left.

And he’d let you.

It had taken everything in him to stand still and let you leave, even as the fear set in. Fear that smelled like freshly cut grass and petrol. Fear that felt like crisp night air. Fear that looked like headlights in the dark.

The restraint had only last a few minutes.

You had blocked him, of course. So he’d called your friends. He’d ended up calling half of Monaco including more drivers than he ever spoke to regularly. Everyone denied hearing from you. He’d actually driven to Daniel’s to confirm his story that he wasn’t home. Max wondered more than once if you’d earned more loyalty from his colleagues than he had. Even if one of them was lying to him, at least you were safe.

But he couldn’t take the chance that you really hadn’t ended up at someone’s place. You didn’t have you bag with you, or even comfortable shoes. You couldn’t pay for a cab. It was that thought that had sent him to the Hotel de Paris. It was your favourite hotel in town, you even checked in for staycations sometimes. They would have your information, so you wouldn’t even need a credit card. The receptionist had refused to tell him if you were staying there - illegal, apparently - but something about his appearance must have incurred her sympathy, because she’d said that they hadn’t had any unexpected guests.

That had sent him to Sass Café. A long shot, because you didn’t usually self medicate alone, but he’d tried anyway. Fifty times he thought he’d seen you across the room as he’d weaved his way through the hoards of people. Normally he could spot you anywhere but when all he wanted was to see you he’d seen you everywhere.

By the time he’d got home, some time in the wee hours, Max could feel himself starting to shut down. As he’d called your name to no response and checked your room to find it empty, he could feel himself starting to get cold. He’d sat down on the couch, intending to think about what he was going to do next, but the thoughts had started to get away from him. The memories of the last twelve hours began to fold in on themselves, becoming smaller and squarer and so too did the feelings. The anger, the frustration, the panic, the disappointment, it all got more manageable, packing itself away in the corner in his mind that Max had so often found himself hiding in.

Even the fear had gone. The fear had gone somewhere around 5.30 am, when the darkness started to wane. As he sat on the couch and watched the sky go from black to blue to the colour of the dress you wore to Luka’s christening, his leg stopped shaking, his fists unclenched, and the tightness in his chest disappeared.

Finally, emotions had given way to a familiar and encompassing emptiness. Max just felt numb.

You’re the reason she’s not here!

What had he even been so angry about? He could almost laugh at himself. He hadn’t been angry. He’d been embarrassed. You’d told him you’d found underwear that wasn’t yours in the washing machine and he’d been so fucking embarrassed. And then he’d thought, what did he have to embarrassed about, and he decided in a split second it must be because you were judging him, and who were you to judge him when you were the reason he was fucking random girls in the first place. His relationship had ended because of you.

You’re the reason she’s not here!

Except you weren’t the reason. Not really. It had been Max’s choice and he knew that. Max needed you more than he’d wanted her and he had never once regretted that choice, although wherever you were, you probably thought he did.

He almost wishes he could feel all of it. Whatever it is that’s been forced under the surface because he can’t deal with it. He can’t feel anything. His eyes are sore and unfocused and they sting.

He drags a hand over his face. He should do something. Get flowers, or call the police, or…anything. But he doesn’t. His limbs don’t move. He just sits there…like he’s waiting for someone to pick him up.

You’ve got to come back.

Don’t worry, Max. They always come back. You’ll apologise. You’ll do better next time.

His eyes water again. This time it might be tears.

Somewhere behind him, one of the cats meows. Maybe he didn’t feed them after all.

“Max?”

At the sound of your voice, Max’s head turns so fast his neck hurts. He blinks furiously at the sight of you. For a second he thinks he’s imagining you.

“I brought strudel,” you say, holding up a small folded pastry box.

Max gets up before his he tells himself to. He wants to pull you into his arms, the urge to do it is the only thing he’s felt in hours, but stays still. You’re back, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgiven.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he says. His voice sounds hoarse.

“Not everywhere, clearly,” you say with a shrug.

“I went to Sass, Daniel’s, I called Lando, Alex, Clara, Zita,” he says, as if trying to prove that he’d tried. “I went to the hotel to see if you were there. I’ve been around the whole city all night, I didn’t sleep,”

“Oh.”

You look a little sheepish, almost guilty, as you make your way to the kitchen. Max follows, too far behind for his liking but he’s still too scared to get closer.

He sits on one side of the island and you stand on the other. He really takes in your appearance now. Hair up, no make up. Wearing a pyjama shirt. Where the fuck did you get pyjamas? He doesn’t care. His eyes run over you one more time. He might never let you out of his sight again.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Max admonishes, though there is no strength behind his words.

“Don’t piss me off like that,” you retort, and there’s strength behind yours.

The look you give him cuts like second place, and he looks away. He looks out to the balcony. The sky is cobalt now. What time is it?

“Did you mean it?” You whisper into the silence.

Max looks at you now. “No.”

“But-“

“No.” This time it’s an oath.

You shake your head as you open the pastry box. “Max, you obviously kind of meant it,” you say, turning to pick up two plates from the counter. “And I don’t blame you. I know I’m the reason you and-“

“You’re not the reason,” Max insists. “She’s the reason. She thought…she made that choice. And yeah, a part of me is still angry about it, and I cannot talk to her so I took it out on you. That wasn’t right and I’m sorry. I don’t know why I even- I’m sorry. It was my fault,”

Take responsibility. It’s your fault. You caused this to happen. If you don’t like the outcome then stop making people angry.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter this time. Even to his own ear it sounds a little more desperate.

You stare at him, eyes narrow, like you’re trying to read him, and Max almost flinches under the scrutiny. Finally, your face softens, and you sigh. Something in your posture eases.

“Max, it’s okay,” you say gently. “People fight. I just felt like shit and you know how I get. You’re fight, I’m flight, remember? I was…anyway, it doesn’t matter. We’re okay, right?”

“Yeah,” Max says. “Of course.”

You don’t look like you believe him, but he’s telling the truth. If you’re okay, then he’s okay. If you’re there, then he’s okay. If you’re home then that’s where he wants to be.

You shuffle around the island with two plates of strudel, padding on bare feet towards the living room with Max in hot pursuit.

“Where did you go?” He asks, now noticing that not even your shorts are the ones you left in last night.

“The Maybourne,” you explain, settling on the corner of the couch, legs outstretched. “The concierge gave me some spa pjs,”

Max takes a seat next to you, further than normal but closer than he’s been to you in what feels like forever.

“I’ll pay you back for the room,” he says with a rueful smile.

“Yeah, I think you will,” you say haughtily, and Max forced himself to laugh. There must be something in his expression that tips you off, though, because your face falls. “I’m sorry I left,”

Please don’t ever do that again.

The words are on the tip of his tongue but he swallows them. He doesn’t ask. He can’t. He has no right to ask you that, because no one can ever promise not to leave and he can’t promise to be worth staying for.

“It’s not the first time,” Max says with a chuckle, nudging you with his elbow. “I’m used to it by now,”

You roll your eyes and turn on the tv, flipping through to find the Moto GP race as Max yawns. The buzz he felt at your return is wearing off and the exhaustion is creeping up on him. He doesn’t want to sleep yet, though. Not when you’re still in his periphery. It’s stupid, but some part of him needs to be consciously in your presence for a while.

“Max, you can go to bed, if you want. I know you didn’t sleep,”

“No,” he says, a bit too quickly. He imagines that he blushes when you notice. His cheeks certainly burn. “I’m just….I’m fine here.”

You reach over to pick up a pillow and lay it on your lap. “At least lie down,” you say, patting the pillow like you do to get one of the cats to sit on you. Max hesitates, but only for a moment, because he’d do just about anything you told him right now.

He settles his head on the pillow, eyes fixed on the tv. He used to do this with his mum, he remembers. The first night joke after being with his dad for months, she’d put on a movie and Max would lay his head in her lap while they watched. He doesn’t think he’s ever told you that.

Your hand running through his hair is like a little jolt of energy, somewhere above him he hears you giggle at the shiver that goes through him. You don’t stop, though, finger massaging his scalp. It quiets all of his nerve endings.

“You need a haircut,” you tell him. He knows what you’re doing, but he can’t bring himself to care. As long as it’s you doing it.

“Yeah,” Max agrees. It’s the last thing he says before he finally falls asleep.

[cinematicgf]

Breaking the Girl~ 18+ dom!joel

Summary: as a casual photographer, you find the opportunity to go with your neglectful boyfriend to his hometown for the summer thrilling. Taking photos of his neighbors and friends whilst not blowing money on a huge vacation sounds perfect, a small job with his mum, neighborhood summer get-togethers and weekend beach trips accompanied by your trusty camera, why not?! But when a certain charming Southern man, known as your boyfriend’s old boss, enters the mix, you cant take your lens off the fine older man, and he cant seem to take it off you either.

Pairings: (no-outbreak) dom!joel miller x sub f!reader

Warnings and notes: 18+, smutty smutty smut, dom!joel and sub!f!reader, piv, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, doll, darling), dirty talk, drinking, swearing, oral sex (f! receiving), arguments, age gap (reader is afab! in their early 20s and Joel in in his mid-early 50s), reader in uni, bit of a praise kink ngl, boyfriend being an asshole and Joel being just as charming as ever, reader has some cunty thoughts but good for her honestly, just pure unbridled filth with a semi developed backstory<3 no use of y/n

~ 7.2k (oops)

A/N: hi all<3 I wanna thank you guys for the support of my previous Joel fic, I appreciate it so much<3 this is just a string of pure filth with limited backstory. my inbox is open for requests as usual, your feedback is always welcome and if you enjoy this fic please like, comment and reblog<3

~

She was the girl Left alone Feeling the need To make me her home

I don't know what, when or why The twilight of love had arrived

~

Summer was approaching quick and with your exams out of the way and all the stress of the last few months, the final week of university seemed kinda pointless. Yet here you were in class, daydreaming about all the things you would get up to. Perhaps you could rent a sea-side batch and spend your warm afternoons in the ocean before settling down with a book and a bottle of wine for the evenings. Or maybe, you could blow your barista allowance and go to Florida for the sweltering months. Truth is, you didn’t have any plans for the summer, and with the days counting down much too fast to comprehend, you found yourself at a loss for what to do on your break. No matter what you did, however, you know your trusty camera would be tucked to your side, film loaded in and an extra pocket in your bag to store the developed photos. Photography had been a passion of yours for as long as you could remember. You had saved up birthday and Christmas money for years in order to afford a camera for yourself and you had never gone anywhere without it. Unfortunately, the impending doom of your hobby “having no jobs”, as your father put it, meant that you had to change your uni major. Although, you had been cheeky and added in a photography paper here and there, just to satisfy yourself and to no knowledge of your father.

The sound of a backpack being thrown down next to you made you retreat from your thoughts with a jump. Your boyfriend pushed himself into a seat next to you, “So babe”, he began; god, how many times had you told him you hated being called that. “I was thinking, for the summer, you could come back home with me?” he finished. You looked at him with a frown, the last thing you wanted to do was spend another summer cooped up in a small town like the one you grew up in, the one you visited every holidays, just to be wrapped in uncomfortably tight hugs from elders commenting on, “well well, I haven’t seen you since you were this big”, making their hand level with their knees, “look at how pretty you’ve gotten, you have your mothers eyes dear, you must be so proud of her”, they would always say, giving a warm smile to your father as he too looked at you with a grin, knowing how insane you must think these strangers were. You loved seeing your father on breaks, but c’mon, sometimes you yourself needed some time to yourself.

You contemplated his offer briefly, “Hmm I don’t kno—” “Cmon!” he insisted, unwarily cutting you off, “It’ll be great, we can stay in my parents sleep out, I’ll be working for one of my neighbors who I had a job with in high school, and I’ve already asked my mom if she can find some work for you around her office. On weekends we can walk to the beach and go to the mall and whatnot, c’mon babe, it’ll be fun”. Great, a summer working in an office and hanging out with your boyfriends’ rich parents, sounds… delightful. But truth is, you didn’t have anything else to do over the summer, and maybe this would be a way to relax without spending a boatload of your hard-earned money on a shitty trip. “Hmm... fine, you’ve convinced me”, you pretend to be annoyed about it. He smiles and gives you a quick peck on the cheek which you ignore. “It’ll be great, we can go up Saturday afternoon. First day of summer, the adults in the neighborhood usually throw a barbecue at Joel’s, the guy I’m working for. Yeah, it’s a little rowdy with drunk adults and a pool thrown into the mix but I always find myself actually having fun”. At this point you felt a little excitement creep through you. You arrive and immediately there’s a party, hell yeah. Who cares about drunk middle-aged people when at least there are free drinks. “I’m sure we will have a great time”, you force a smile as he gazes at you, “as long as I’m with you”, he replies earnestly before adding repulsively, “can you bring something hot to wear, like those little shorts- I wanna impress everyone in town that you’re mine”. You cringed at the sudden ruin of the mood and his claiming you as his. It sends a nauseous feeling straight to your stomach with a hint of rage.

Six months ago, you may have laughed and slapped him lightly on the shoulder, but truth is, you had been meaning to break things off with him for a couple of weeks now. His constant unawareness to vile comments and the fact that you were always treated as an accessory to him, as if you weren’t a person at all, had just brought you to your breaking point. Not to mention your friend Em, who dated his much kinder friend, had broken the news that him and a girl in another one of his classes had been fucking on the regular. This should’ve hurt, but truth be told, you two had been distant for months now. The only reason that you hadn’t broken it off sooner was the slamming of exam period, as you spend two weeks with your head buried in books, barely seeing anyone, including him (you had kinda forgot about him over that time, if you were honest with yourself, and, you know you weren’t supposed to say it, but it felt kinda nice, not having the responsibility of constantly thinking about a significant other). Remembering all the outliers in your relationship, you cursed yourself for saying yes to the trip and not just calling it quits to spend summer alone. Well, you guessed you wouldn’t be seeing him all that much, with both of you working and you could use the excuse you wanted to check out the town to get away for a bit. God, you felt like a major bitch, but still, it was a free trip. So, fuck it. Call it compensation for how neglectful he had been of your relationship.

The trip back to his hometown was draining. You couldn’t help but wish your boyfriend would just ease up on the constant chatter so the two of you could sit in comfortable silence with the music blaring instead. He told you all about his neighbors and his parents and you couldn’t help but find yourself intrigued by this Joel Miller character he was working for. Single parent, self-made wealthy contractor with a charm about him, or so your boyfriend complimented, as he told the story of how Joel had offered him a job in high school when times were tight through his parents’ divorce. “Listen okay, literally everyone in town swoons for him but I’ve never seen him with anyone, I don’t know, maybe he’s just not looking to settle down. I personally don’t see it, he’s just an old man”, he mentions offhandedly. You were a little nervous to meet him after the string of admiration by your boyfriend.

Once you had arrived and his stepfather and mother had showered you with acclimation (“My goodness Sammy, look at this gorgeous thing, how did you manage to lock her down”). Getting ready for the much-awaited barbecue, you settled for simple, as the humid evening approaching told you that anymore layers, and you would be drenched in sweat. You added some accessories, equipping yourself with your camera and extra film as you and your boyfriend headed across the road to, supposedly, Joel’s house.

Already there was a congregation of neighbors and friends, all gathered around a pool in the backyard, beers in hands, chatting enthusiastically with others they, presumably, were all familiar with. It was utterly suburban, the sight bemusing you slightly as you force away a smirk. Making your way across the lawn and through already intoxicated neighbors you find a full cooler, preparing yourself with a beer before observing the strangers. Your boyfriend had taken off to greet friendly faces, taking the opportunity, you fixate your lens to your eye to capturing the action.

A sweep of the back garden and a few shots later your lens focuses on a tall man leaning on a porch pillar. You can’t help but stare through the disguise of your camera. The cross of his tanned broad arms stretching his t shirt against his chest, making the expanse that much more noticeable. One hand jammed into his pocket, the other superlatively cradling a beer.

His patchy beard lined his structured jaw, squinting as he laughed, dimples inverting the sides of his mouth exquisitely. All these featured crafted the most handsome man you think you had ever laid eyes on. Pressing the shutter, you snap a photo of him mid-laugh as a neighbor entertained him. His admirable laugh carried across the garden, a melody to your ears, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

“Babe!” you boyfriend calls from across the lawn, cringing once more at the pet name, you wander across the garden after being summoned. “This here is Joel”. Your eyes meet the older man finally greeting the stranger who has piqued your interest the past few hours. He had a southern charm about him, and the closer you get, you can see how broad he really is. His muscles sculpted through his shirt, the veins in his arm mimicking those of Michelangelo's David. What the hell was your boyfriend talking about “just an old man”, you couldn’t take your eyes off him, allure and all.

“Ah, so this is she”, he envelopes your hand in his, his calloused palms connect more gently than you expected with your own young, soft padding. “I’m Joel”, he introduces himself, “I noticed you snapping photos over there”, his smile softens his features, you can’t help but mirror his beaming. “Speaking of”, you say, reaching into your pocket, you hand him the photo you had taken earlier; his attractive face radiating from the Polaroid, “Here”.

Taking it, he inspects it closely, you hold your breath, faintly, always nervous of reactions to your craft, no matter how friendly the gathering. A mesmerizing smile breaks out on his feature, “Probably the best photo taken of me ever. And that’s saying something”, he adds, grinning. “Its all yours”, you offer, watching him pocket the photo with pride.

Joel and you fall into conversation seamlessly. You tell of your uni and photography endeavors as Joel starts telling you about his contracting business. How he got it off the ground with the help of his brother, Tommy, who was lounging on a pool chair beside Joel’s daughter Sarah, who he mentioned with a sparkle of joy in his eye any proud father would have. “So, after Sarah’s mom left, I decided to get my shit togeth—”

“Holy shit”, your boyfriend interrupts. Joel raises his eyebrows in confusion, and you sigh in question, as you were enjoying talking to Joel, “Listen, my old high school buddies are having a boys night at theirs”, he raises up his phone, showing the brightened notification on the screen. You don’t bother to read it. “I gotta go babe, sorry. Ill see you later on tonight, okay?”, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving you standing there speechless before weaving through the crowd of people in the back garden and leaving. You’re shocked, frankly. Sure, he’s been neglectful of you, but this was a new low. Ditching you at his neighbor’s party to go hang out with other people… you are truly dumbstruck. Tears of humiliation and pure anger burn on your lashes, threatening to leak down your face. You turn your attention to Joel leaning next to you, the same stunned expression accessorizing his features, brow slightly furrowed. “Well,”, he sighs after a beat, “that was a bit fucking rude. Sorry about th—“

“Excuse me”, it was your turn to interrupt him, as you fled from his domineering presence, frankly, embarrassed by your bastard of a boyfriend. Tears lighting a fire behind your eyes as your blood boiled.

“Fuck”, you took a look at the bottom of your empty beer bottle, heading over to the cooler. “Fuck!!”, you repeated to yourself upon opening the now empty chiller. Adults really did drink a lot huh, you thought, glaring daggers at the once full bin before wandering across the garden and inside the house.

You navigated the modern, utterly suburban house plan until you found a garage. Damn middle-aged men and their garages, you swear every dad you knew decorated their garage better than their own rooms. Thank god Joel was no different, because you knew there would be a fridge there filled with the good stuff. Once alone with your new full beverage, you let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. You were here, alone now, with people only he knew, did he expect you to just stand in the corner and drink by yourself, observing the party? Did he expect you to just go home? Honestly, the mere thought of it sent a rush of anger traversing up your spine. “Asshole”, you muttered to yourself, taking a swig of your stolen beer.

“Didn’t think pretty girls were thieves”, you heard a teasing voice behind you. You whipped your head around to make out Joel in the doorway of the garage, muscular arms tucked into his sides again, one supporting his almost empty beer. Had he… followed you? He uncrossed his ankles and made his way over to where you stood by the fridge.

“The door was open, arrest me officer”, you retort sarcastically, already over this whole shindig after being ditched by your boyfriend.

He chuckled lightly before noticing your peeved demeanor. “Ah”, he whispers to himself, “boyfriend troubles huh? More so, than the whole ordeal before hm, darling”. You glance at him through your lashes and roll your eyes, “You don’t know the half of it.” Sighing, he moved closer to you, his elbow caressing yours slightly, he looks down at you with an expression you cant quite make out, “All I can say is”, he begins, his voice low and gravelly, “if I had a pretty thing like you for myself, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight”.

Was he… making a move on you? You couldn’t tell. In your drunken state, you didn’t really care either, why not pursue it. Your boyfriend hadn’t touched you in months, the least Joel could say was no; so, fuck it, right?

You inch toward him, “and what would you do if you had me, Mr. Miller”, you coo, your voice tantalizing, wavering on a whisper as you gaze at him.

“Maybe one day I’ll get to show you”, he smirks. The two of you are unbelievably close, you can feel his breath fanning on your face and can smell his cologne. He is inundating your senses and you can’t get enough. You take the opportunity to weave your hands around his waist. He reaches an unbearably large hand up to your face and skims your cheekbone, his sizeable thumb halting on your bottom lip. You use the opportunity to take his finger into your mouth, suckling gently before releasing it with a soft kiss on the padding of his digit. You can feel him harden against you through his jeans.

“Fuckkkken hell”, he drawls, “temptress,” a darkness scintillates in his eyes.

A loud bang of a door close by followed by a whining, “Daddddddd”, has the both of you jumping apart as Sarah appears in view of the doorway. The young girl is rubbing her eyes, messy curls adorning her cute face. Slumping, she complains again, “Dad, I’m tired, can you tuck me in, please”. Joel gives her a warm smile, “I'll be right there baby girl, go get into bed okay, gimme a second”. She notices you for the first time, “I like your hair”, she grins, you cant help but smile at the young girl, “thank you honey, I like yours too”. With that, she disappears back through the door and up the stairs as Joel’s attention turns back to you, his former dark, eager look has returned.

“Come around tomorrow.” It’s not a question. Rather a demand. One hand engulfs your upper arm, giving it a light squeeze as he plants a soft kiss to your cheek, leaving you in the garage to comprehend the exciting conversation you had just had. Before he does, however, he stops in the doorway and turns back around to face you. “For the record, your boyfriend’s an asshole. Has been since high school.”, he gives you a grin but there’s a hint of concern behind his eyes. It was a shitty thing for your boyfriend to do and he understands that.

Your boyfriend had passed out on his parent’s couch when you left Joel’s house, so you made your way to the sleep out, thrilled to have some time alone to think about the events of the night. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that the entire conversation with Joel felt good. Right, even; like Joel was actually trying to talk to you as any decent human being would. And maybe the bar was on the ground for your after your shitty relationship, but you didn’t feel guilty about wanting the older man. And he wanted you too. Maybe it’ll only be for a quick fuck, but it felt nice to be wanted. You thought about the conversation again before slipping a finger down through your wet folds, rubbing quick fast circles to the nub of your clit, exhaling soft moans. You imagined your hand wasn’t your own but Joel's.

The next day you woke up early. Your nerves shot as you take a shower, taking the opportunity of seeing Joel again to dress in lacy, barely there lingerie under your clothes (why you packed it… just in case, you supposed). If nothing happened between the two of you, or he admitted that perhaps he was drunk and just fucking around, then nobody would know your effort but you. However, if he did get to undress you, the choice to dress up would be an ideal one.

The door is open when you arrive, the summer entering uninvited through the hallway of the cozy home. Entering the doorway to the living room, you knock on the door frame, Joel appearing moments later behind you on the stairs. “Hi again, doll”, he greets you with a genuine smile, walking to the kitchen. Those dimples, carved by Donatello himself, you supposed. “You want something to drink?”, you nod as he leads the way past you. Handing you a dewy beer, you make your way to the couch to sit on the edge like a nervous child and admire the man in front of you. His t shirt tightening at the sleeves, barely able to fit over his muscular, slightly tanned arms. Jeans, ungodly tight around his crotch. You blush at the realization that you’re staring at him in all his glory. Your breath hitches as you focus your gaze on the skew of family photos dotted around the living me.

“Why’d you ask me over?” you come right out and question. In your drunken state last night, you didn’t care if it looked like you were coming onto him, if he said no, your intoxication dulled your embarrassment. But now, in your sober state, you needed to know, so as not to do just that. “I wanna take care of you”, he expressed nonchalantly, his focus occupied on finding a bottle opener. “And how do you presume to do that”, you continue, bemused by his confused expression lightening once he found what he was looking for, popping the cap before coming to sit next to you on the couch. He crossed his ankle over his knee, your eyes unfortunately for you, travel straight to the bulge in his jean. Perv, you curse to yourself. “Well, it just seems like your boyfriend isn’t doing a very good job, is he sweetheart?”. An exasperated sigh emits from your throat, your eyes roll unwillingly at the mention of your partner. You lean against the back of the couch, head resting on his forearm relaxing lazily behind you, as you take a sip from your bottle.

You realize you really do want him… badly. “Maybe I do need your help, Mr. Miller”, lolling your neck to look at him through your lashes, putting on a sad face whilst the hint of seduction in your breathy tone communicates everything to Joel.

He leans in and kisses you, gently at first. You deepen it, needing more of him as you moan into his mouth, giving him easy access to slide his tongue across your teeth. Tongue and teeth collide in a hot, messy kiss. His hand glides up your waist to your throat, where he cups your jaw with two giant fingers and squeezes gently. Quickly realizing you’re in the middle of the living room, gasping pulling away. “Shit, is Sarah home?”, you pant. “Friend’s house”, Joel says shortly, reconnecting your lips to his.

“Then, make me feel good Joel”, you coo, teeth running over his bottom lip. He exhales a low animistic groan, watching his eyes darken to a lust-filled gaze. “Yes ma’am”.

Next thing you know, he is walking you backwards to the spare bedroom downstairs. Both of you are so needy, you can’t even wait to make it upstairs to his own bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress, he works at your panties, lips connecting with your throat, neck, collarbone, a symphony of needy groans accompany your pleasureful sighs quickly filling the empty space of the room. Slipping a calloused hand between your thighs, he begins working to collect your arousal, coating the tips of his fingers before slipping a digit into your cunt. You exhale a gasp, he swallows into a groan, “Fuck, doll,” he breathes softly, watching his finger pumping in and out of you, “does this pussy ever get this wet for your boyfriend?” He palms himself through his jeans, relieving some of his building tension. “No Joel”, you gasp, “not like it does for you”. Mascara gathers at your lashes as you squirm on his sheets. Joel’s touch fills you with ecstasy, but you still need more.

“Joel—” you whine, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, desire and devotion flooding his features, you follow his line of vision to the sight of his digit fucking you, then to your camera lying on his bedside table. You see the gears turning in his head, barely able to comprehend what he is up to before he grabs the camera, taking it in one large hand, positioning the base on his palm as he bends his fingers to the shutter button. You turn your head away in bliss, all you can focus on are his expert fingers rhythmically pumping in and out of you. “C'mon baby, you don’t need to be shy around me”. The camera looks miniature in his hand, the flash blinds you, snapping your pure pleasure, freezing it as a passionate moment in time. Joel holds the strap by his teeth, yanking the filthy portrait out, throwing it on the bedside table. Fuck, that just made you even wetter, if that was even possible. “Joel—ah- Joel” you continue to whimper, unworried about the physical evidence of your filthy endeavors due to your young, committed cunt clenching unwilling around his fingers by how good it feels.

“I know, sweetheart”, he whispers understandingly, “Just gotta warm you up a little longer, okay sweet girl”, he slips another digit between your walls. Your back arches against the mattress, head thrown back as a string of moans and whimpers tumble from your lips. Joel’s eyes darken into a hungry, heavy look with every squirm and curse that falls from your lips. Your eyebrows knit together in pleasure as his filthy words and his tantalizing, skillful fingers aid the coil in your stomach to release slowly. Joel, camera in hand, snaps two more of him fucking you with his fingers, discarding them on the table again. “Fuck, my own little cam girl”, he drawls in your ear, smirking, “we got four left, gotta use them wisely now”.

Joel abruptly pulls his fingers out, leaving you gasping for air, whining, as the bliss slowly fades, your arousal still hot and heavily in need of him like the air you breathe. He drags his jeans and boxers off, tossing them carelessly onto the floor by the bed. Taking in his girth, you understand why he had to warm you up first. You damn near moan at the sheer side of it as the slick from your pussy assists his thick fingers to pump himself a couple of times. He smirks at your needy expression. Cocky bastard, he knows he’s big too. Settling between your legs, his tip of his cock teases your entrance. You can feel his pre-cum mixing with your slick, creating an exquisite cocktail. Repetition falling from his lips in an unsteady gravelly tone as he coerces you to take ever inch of him inside your cunt, with a melody of “good girl” and “you’re doing so good for me, pretty baby”.

Joel slides inside you so easily, with how wet you are for him. A soft hiss, and then his features mold into a symphony of pleasure and hunger. His capable fingers tangle in your hair he glides his length in and out, painfully slow. You finally find your voice amongst the soft gasps and ah’s. “Joel— need more, please”, your voices emerges as a breathy whisper; making his features darken with craving. “I know baby, I know”, he coos, “you’re so full right now, aren’t you. That’s it sweet girl, you’re so good, taking every inch of me into that pretty little pussy”.

Your mind is whirling 100 miles per hour as he whispers filthy phrases in your ear, the promise to fuck you hard and slow being almost unbearable to comprehend. His thick cock stretches you out, rock hard, forcing your legs wide open as your ankles cross around his waist for support. It’s too much, fuck! After a few seconds of adjusting to this size, he pulls all the way out. You whine slightly at the loss of him inside you before he slams back into your cunt, filling you all the way before repeating again and again and again. The head of his thick, impressive length kisses your g spot like no other mans has before. All the while he has one large, veiny hand around your throat providing a slight bit of pressure, his thumb caresses your lips, opening them to slide a finger inside. You take the hint as a call back to last night at the party, slipping his fingers to the back of your throat and sucking on them. He groans out a string of profanities, eyes glued to you as you feel his cock twitch inside you at the image before him. You release his fingers, a string of spit still attaching you and him, he uses his thumb to spread it around your lips before dragging your chin down to open your mouth, pressing his lips to yours delicately. You can barely keep up with his kiss as he continues to slam into you at a rapid pace. You’re moaning out his name, a chorus of Joel, Joel Joel-, he smothers your whines with his lips. Rocking his hips up into you slowly, he brings his thumb down between the two of you, his calloused finger after years of contracting, makes contact with your clit, rubbing circles to your neglected nub. You push his hand away after your body jolts from the stimulation and he lets out a low chuckle. “You about to come, sweetheart?”, his voice is restrained and needy. You can feel your orgasm building inside of you, teasing you as the crescendo builds. You nod quickly. Squeezing your eyes shut, your moans begin to become rapid sighs on your tongue.

“Eyes on me, doll”, Joel demands, you open them to be met by the southern man, slamming his hips into you. Fuck he looks so good on top of you right now. A thin layer of sweat coats his forehead and chest, his hair messy, two curls decorating his forehead. You don’t think you’ve ever seen such a beautiful sight. He lifts himself up on his knees, grabbing the camera once more, he takes a selection of photos of you taking him deep into you. He thumbs lightly at your clit for a shot, before the film runs out, a satisfyingly dirty collection of photos to remember your time together by lying next to the both of you.

Your hips move together in conjunction. His hands weave around your back, pulling you into him as his lips attached to your breasts, he anchors his tantalizingly expert fingers into your hair, the plush of your ass, circling your waist— Joel holds you as close as physically possible, his muscular arms crush you, teeth grazing the nub of your breast. There’s a starving kind of desire laced into his kiss. Involuntary clenches of your cunt around his impossibly hard cock, and your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, you slide your hands around his neck to hold yourself steady.

Then, he’s pulling away slightly, his hungry eyes watching his length pump in and out of you, as he plants a strong hand on your thigh, spreading you open to receive impossibly more of him. You are simply a toy at this point, as he dictates the sheer brutal pace of how he fucks you. “God, you look so beautiful, full of my cock, doll”. He moves his lips wetly up your throat, your head thrown back. He smiles against your mouth, you give him a shaky “mmm”, he ardently peaks your lips, releasing after each kiss to watch your cock-drunken expression, his name the only word you can attempt, like worship on the edge of your tongue. “Joel- Joel- Joel, mmm”, you stutter a praise for the captivated audience, who is relishing in the sound of your pleading gasps.

“I wanna see how appreciative you are for this cock, baby, keep your eyes on me”.

His voice is firm as his hardened hands caresses the length of your spine. You feel him flex inside you, his dominant gaze securing you as he speeds up, watching as your tits bounce with his rough strokes. “Ohmygod–Joel–”, the promise of your climax rapidly approaches, the ache undoes all the tension inside you, overtaking every inch of you, causing your thighs to squeeze him impossibly tighter.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Give it to me now, Darlin, you’re doing so good, come around me, doll”. The praise, the pet names, him inside you, all sends you over the edge. Your cunt starts to flood and shudder around him, your eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your orgasm release. You squeeze around Joel’s cock so tight; your lungs can only gasp out a mixture whines as you come around him. Joel continues to fuck you through your orgasm, its hard and fast to the point where you can feel another coil build inside you. He can feel it too, shifting your hips up slighting in a way that makes your mind blow, you nearly scream out at how good it feels. “That’s my good girl, I need another one, baby. You can give me another. That’s it, Yes, give it to me pretty girl”, his lips attach to a soft spot behind your ear, making you moan his name, your delicate hands rake through his hair. He pulls out for a brief second, flipping you onto your side as he lies behind you, sliding back inside you again. Its almost as if he never left, you’re so drunk off him fucking you that you can barely comprehend what is happening. Just that it feels so good, his hand weaves around you to play with your nipple, squeezing it slightly as his lips pepper kisses to your neck. he gently hooks your leg over his, stretching you open impossibly wider. “I wanna feel that pussy squeezeing me again, baby”. He continues lacing a string of filthy words into your ear while retreating back to his signature move when the two of you first started, pulling all the way out and slamming into you again.

“Lemme, feel you comin’ when I fill you up, good girl.”

Your second orgasm blinds you as you moan through your bliss. Joel’s gravely groans behind you sound like a melody. His warm breath in your ear and progressive sloppiness, encasing the room in leud noises, accompanied by his broken moans signals to you that he is close too. You turn you head to capture his lips as the aftershocks of your orgasm spark through you, your thighs twitching against his. He meets them brutally, and you know you’re going to be bruised inside and out when this is over. By the time he’s pumped you full of his cum and pulled out, it’s leaking down the inside of your thighs. You attempt to catch your breath, as his cock settles between the two of you on your lower back. You cant help but smile as he rubs lazy circles to your bare hip.

“Fucken hell, that was incredible”, he whispers, more so to himself than to you. “You are something else, doll”, he breathes, still catching his breath. You turn yourself around so that you’re half on top of him, throwing your leg over his so his cock is resting between your thighs. “You’re not so bad yourself”, you retort, smirking up at him.

“You know, you look so fucking pretty on top of me like that, darlin’. Next time, ill have to get a shot of you riding me”. Your heart jumps slightly at the promise of a next time, which he notices, following up his sentiment.

“Are you staying the whole summer”, he questions, his roaming hands worshiping your waist. “Sure am”, you respond hopefully. “Well then, I guess I’ll be seeing you soon”, he gives you a genuine smile, capturing your lips against lip for a delicate kiss, his patchy,lightly groomed beard scratching softly at your cupid’s bow.

You’re still unable to form a coherent sentence, as you feel his slick cocktailed with your own leaking out of your cunt. You slide off him, propping yourself up on a trembling elbow, watching Joel pull his jeans back up over his hips. “Until next time then”, he promises, gliding your panties up your still-weak legs, a wet patch already forming on the fabric. Aren’t you glad you decided to wear these. He hands you the photos and your camera as you attempt to dress yourself again, feeling weak and so empty without him already. Handing them to you, he slips one into his jean pocket with a cheeky comment. Walking you to the door, he kisses you deeply, his grey-flecked beard scratching your cheeks. After your goodbyes you can’t help but miss him. Hell, you’d only known the older man two days; still, you wanted his company more and more as the hours went by, so you reached for what he had given you to remember you by, “until next time”.

You stand in the sleep-out kitchen, admiring the Polaroid’s he had taken of you. You filter through them, blushing more at the sight of each one, dirtier than the last, too caught up to hear the door open. “Hey”, the familiar voice makes you jump. Your boyfriend, out of breath comes stalking through the door. You scramble to hide the photos, collecting them in a bundle, attempting to put them in your jean pocket. You force a smile at him as his eyes travel down to the photos in your hand. “From the party right, lemme take a look at those,” he says enthusiastically, closing the gap between the two of you as he reaches for them. “No”, you try to brush it off, “the lighting isn’t right, they didn’t turn out great, ya know, night shooting is a bitch”, you try to pull the photos further from his grasp, but he has a firm hold on them, yanking them slightly. You gasp as they flutter gracefully to the ground, face up, dropping to your knees to quickly pick them up but he’s already seen. “What the fuck”, he whispers, grabbing one and gazing it, a deep-rooted frown carved into his brow. It was you, mouth frozen in a pleasureful ‘ah’ as a peak of Joel entering you was seen at the bottom of the frame. “You wanna tell me what the fuck this is”, his voice was wavering on a yell.

You decided not to try to explain, “you wanna tell me about the girls you’ve been fucking these past few months, huh?”, you retort. “Everyone knows, everyone has told me to break up with you because of it, shit, you don’t even try to keep it a secret”. You voice is laced with venom, it was high time this discussion was happening, you just wished you had the courage to bring it up on your own, and not in this unwanted circumstance.

“Dont change the subject, who is he?”, he demands, his tone reaching shouting point. “Take a wild fucking guess. Do you need a hint? He stayed with me while you ditched my ass at your neighborhood party. While you humiliated me by just fucking leaving me there with strangers like the asshole you are.” You can feel rage-filled hot tears collecting at your lash line reminiscing about the event. “I know you’re going to try to break it off and think its your own doing but trust me, this”, you direct your finger between yourself and him, “this, has been over for a long time”. You push past him with force, grabbing your bag which you hadn’t even bothered to unpack, thank fuck, what a nice coincidence. You stomp toward the door.

“Fine”, he responds, “but as if he’s going to want you. He’s a middle-aged man with a kid, you were just a fuck”. It spirals you. You turn on your heels to look at him, he is frowning on the verge of tears (how many times had you been there before in his presence) and there’s a contortion of anger in his face, “At least he actually made me come”, you retorted hotly, walking out the door before you remember an extra detail. You pop your head back through the door to utter, “three times, actually”. And then you’re off. You ask his mother to drive you to the train station, explaining the split, briefly, and that you didn’t feel comfortable to stay. She insisted you did, kind lady, but didn’t pry into the details.

Once you had boarded and the train sped away from the dreaded events of the town, you felt relief course through you, no longer chained to that asshole. Sure, you know you should’ve done it sooner, and yeah, it wasn’t an ideal option what had happened, but this meant you could have some time to yourself this summer.

As you were back at square one, you daydreamed of the handful of friends who usually spent their summers on campus to call once you got back. Your phone screen lighting up with a ding, caught you off guard, the name causing your heart to skip a beat.

“It’s Joel. I heard the rundown from his mother, got your number in the process. Are you alright, doll?” he writes. You read it in his voice, subconsciously smiling at how his pet names aren't limited to face to face conversations.

You look at the bright screen in disbelief. He asked your exes mother for your number, meaning he wanted to stay in contact. Perhaps? One could only hope. You didn’t let your excitement get the better of you, however.

“Guess word travels fast. I’m fine, it should’ve happened sooner, honestly. I’m so sorry I got you involved”. You put your phone down, not expecting a reply after your apology. But the immediate ding had not only butterflies, but a whole zoo trampling around your stomach.

“If you’re going to be at your dorm over the summer, let me come visit sometime darling? Tommy offered to work more after your ex quit, so my plate is free”. He adds, much to your delight, “plus I think Sarah would love to see the campus.”

You smiled at the thought of showing the young girl around your college, she would be in awe of the library, you thought, remembering a glimpse of a large collection of books strewn across the table and shelf in the living room. You started to type a reply to Joel before another message comes through.

“and, for the record, those photos were hot, sweetheart”, he adds, a blush coloring your face, your gaze immediately drifting to the pocket of your bag where they lay, safe, sound, and where no one would be able to see, thank god.  

“I suppose I could work something out, for you” you reply, a smiling creeping across your features before double texting, “you know, I have extra film in my dorm... for emergency”. Discarding your phone on the table in front of you, you watch the countryside melt into a blur, feeling the most relaxed and content you had in a while.

~

if you enjoy this fic please like, comment and reblog! your feedback is always appreciated<3 thank you for reading

[dogs2shouldvote]

in contrast with my last post, in my latest relisten of taz balance i also recorded a bunch of quotes that felt like a punch to the gut (with zero context mostly). here’s some that made me a) cry or b) freak out because foreshadowing

MAJOR taz balance spoilers ahead; if you haven’t already listened to this amazing show, you should!

- “you can’t kill robbie, i have some big franchise plans for robbie”

- “you found her?“

- “one of you isn’t a lich, are you?”

- “tell julia i said i love her”

- “your staff, you lost control of it, and you blasted the letters L U P into the wall”

- “you look familiar too. have we met?” (this one i did put context for, it’s ren speaking to magnus in the eleventh hour during one of the early loops)

- “is there anything else you can edit in our past?” (this one also had context, magnus to istus i believe)

- “you’re going to be amazing”

- “there’s a long span of time that’s just not there” … “while you’re looking through these memories… there is something about the memory is a little bit off. there’s parts of it that are a little bit staticky.”

- “i named my fish after him”

- “he didn’t want to be a hero. it wasn’t his desire.”

- “Do you remember the last thing you said?”

“I said ‘I love you, Jules.’”

- “lup. they don’t trust me. i cant do it anymore, lup. i’m sorry”

- “the hunger is almost here. and when it arrives, the world will be lost.”

- “and it’s an incredibly familiar face, because it’s your face, magnus. this figure in the red robe is you.”

- “why are you doing this, taako?”

“because i’m worried no one else will have me”

- “you see this red robe put a single skeletal finger to its nonexistent lips”

- ”i’ll be having my body back you undead fuck”

- “trust barry. love barry. taako… it’s me… it’s *static*”

- “when there was trouble, you took the big hit. didn’t you, bud?”

- “and taako you remember lup now. how could you forget lup?”

- “are we just gonna burn every world that we can’t save just to keep the hunger from getting its hands on them? how does that make us any better than them?”

- “this is where we get to decide who we are”

- “show them the duck. it’s a good duck. i think they’ll like it!”

- “your journey could have ended anywhere… but it ended here. and you’re so grateful for that.”

- “sometimes there aren’t right decisions. sometimes there’s just decisions.”

- “back soon”

- “as his body falls further and further down, you realize you don’t know who that is.”

- “magnus. i’m going to find a place for you to be happy. it’ll just be for a little bit. i can do this. i love you magnus. i love all of you *fading into static*”

- “you *fucking took everything. from me*.”

- “i needed to say goodbye to someone

- “i don’t expect you all to forgive me…”

“i run over and hug her”

- “there’s magic in a bards song. they call it is inspiration and it tells the listener what they need to hear when they need to hear it… and you hear johann’s voice and it says: ‘you’re gonna have to fight… and *you’re gonna win!*’”

- “how does magnus die?”

- “and thus ends adventure zone balance. the story of four idiots who played dnd so hard they made themselves cry.”

[writingjourney]

Papa(i cant decide what number 1-4) : angry at his lover, because she avoids him..

Reader in her bedroom: p-please love...kill me i have a fever

https://themidult.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/painting-woman-ill-sick-fluey-unwell2-800x500.jpg

(sorry for the link im too shy to send this ask as me, but i think its kinda funny)

ghosting | papa x gn!reader

I could not decide on a Papa either, so I kept it as neutral as possible and (I hope) you can all imagine the Papa of your choice :) and anon, you need not be shy, I am so grateful for your ask <3

summary: your papa thinks you're avoiding him but once he finally finds you, he realises that he got it all wrong.

content: 2.5k words, sick care, some suggestive remarks, fluff mostly

masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Papa scoffs into his afternoon coffee, nearly spilling the hot liquid all over his papal robes. Still nothing. He’s staring at his phone, the screen cracked from when it slipped out of his pocket while he fucked you on his desk two days ago. And yet he can clearly make out the two blue hooks indicating that you’ve read his message from this morning.

What he also sees is that there is still no reply. Your silence, your absence, the uncertainty – it drives him mad. He is so used to having your undivided attention, seeing your name pop up on his screen with a frequency that keeps him from getting any work done as of late. Not your name, though, no. He saved you under “amore mio” a long time ago. Not that you’re aware of it just yet, but his feelings for you have long since surpassed mere lust and friendliness.

His mind constantly wanders to you. Knowing your schedule by heart, it is easy to imagine what you’re doing, what may have you so distracted. Right now, you should be helping in the gardens, sweaty and panting from the exertions in the warm afternoon sun. He knows how pretty you look like that, even more so when you’re sprawled out underneath him as he gets lost in the soft curves of your body. He yearns to lick the salty sweat off your heaving chest, to hear your whimpers as his lips leave not a single inch of your skin untouched.

Alas, he is stuck in his office, brooding over paperwork.

He’s trying hard to concentrate on the words in front of him, not to stare at his screen all day like a depraved, starving man. Impatient, he even set the phone to vibrate but despite knowing he’d get a notification if you texted him, he taps the screen every two minutes to check. Just to make sure he doesn’t miss it. 

Oh how he’s longing for even the most delicate touch, a simple kiss on his cheek as you tell him to take it easy today, your hand squeezing his across the table. You used to do that, visit him in his office at least two times a day. Not always innocent. Actually, very rarely innocent. He can almost hear the echo of you screaming his name for half the abbey to hear. And yet, you have not been anywhere near these four desecrated walls in almost two days. Not since the last time you were intimate with him.

Why won’t you reply? A flash of doubt and a pang of anger. Could you be getting tired of him? Did he come on too strong? If that were the case, you should tell him. He’s a busy man, you of all people know that, and yet here you are practically ghosting him, as the younger Siblings call it. By now it’s almost dinner time, you must have had a chance to at least type in a yes or no. Papa knows if he can’t see you tonight he is going to lose his mind. He needs the confirmation or he’ll be nervous and distracted for the rest of his day.

Generous as he is, Papa gives you another hour, finishing up the dreadful paperwork before he has a quick dinner of reheated pasta from the day prior. It tastes like nothing to him and the emptiness of his quarters only adds to his foul mood. His eyes are still trained on his phone, the battery still half full, unused with the lack of texting. The only time his screen lights up this evening it’s to remind him that his screen time has gone up by eighty percent over the past week. It seems like that’s an issue you’re solving for him right now.

Papa knows he cannot go another night without seeing you. He needs to confront you, ask if you really lost interest or if you just need more space. Whatever it is, having clarity will be easier to bear than silence.

Entering the dorms is always risky business. People gossip, someone is going to see where he’s knocking, and while everyone knows the two of you are… something, he’s not keen on everyone speculating about why you’re suddenly on cooldown.

But when he knocks, nothing happens. He repeats the motion, rapping his knuckles against the wood three times, louder now. Nothing. He hears music, some sort of electronic beats, the tunes wafting over from another dorm room. A party, surely. Yours however remains eerily quiet. In a last attempt to find out if you’re even home, he tries the door.

It is unlocked, so you must be home. For a moment he considers leaving again but then a painful thought hits him: If you’re home, not opening up… it means you’re avoiding him. Clearly. 

What crime did he commit to deserve your ignorance? His anger propels him to enter, despite knowing he’s invading your privacy. But he cannot go back to his quarters without confronting you, not when he’s already in such pain. He’s feeling the anticipatory grief over losing you and it’s all because he let his guard down way too fast, leaning into your kindness, your loving nature. He always had a feeling that this was too good to be true, that despite thinking this time would be different, he’d end up in pain. Everyone just wants the sex, the fun, not the commitment that being with a Papa, maybe even loving a Papa, meant.

Fiddling with the doorknob, he feels awful for even thinking these things. You never gave him reason to doubt you, but it is just so easy to slip back into his old insecurities. Certain that he’s just seeing ghosts, Papa pushes the door open silently.

Upon entering the small antechamber that leads to your bedroom, he hears you moaning. He hears the rustling of sheets, the mattress creaking. A loud fuck.

Papa stops dead in his tracks, nearly toppling over as a wave of nausea hits him. For a second, his worst fears and his deepest insecurities melt into one big gooey ball of panic. He wants to be sure that what you have is special, but you never openly decided to be exclusive, that you wouldn’t see other people. He’s been meaning to ask, to tell you how he feels… too late, it seems.

But no. He soldiers on. If anyone else dares to touch you, they will receive all of his demonic, unholy wrath. He has a whole company of ghouls who would love to get a taste of human flesh again, if need be. Papa opens the door to your bedroom, anxious but driven, ready to face whatever lies behind. And he does find you in bed like he expected, only… you’re alone.

You don’t even look up. Are you sleeping? The room is stuffy, curtains closed and all he hears is your whimpering.

“Hello?” he asks quietly, his heart hammering in his chest.

“P-papa?” 

Your voice is barely audible. His anger turns into concern as he hurries to your side, sitting down at the edge of the bed. Immediately you reach for his hand in an attempt to squeeze, but it seems like you’re too weak to clench your muscles.

“Kill me, Papa. Release me from this torment,” you whine. “Please.”

“Tesoro, what is going on?”

You groan in reply, a sound only made more horrifying by the soreness of your throat. You sound like a dying animal and if he’s honest, you kind of smell like one too. He wonders how long you’ve been in this position.

“I am dying,” you whisper.

“What happened? Are you injured?”

He’s scanning your body but most of it is covered. Before he can pull away the duvet, you try to squeeze his hand yet again, this time with more vigor.

“S-sick,” you choke out. “The flu.”

“The flu?”

Papa ignores the bad conscience that’s settling in his mind and gives into his worry. He jumps up, opening the curtains and the window to let in some fresh air. You hiss like you’ve been burned, despite the sun already setting. Disregarding your complaints, Papa finds a thermometer and pain killers on your bedside table.

“We need to check if you have a fever, tesorino, can you open your pretty mouth for me?”

You giggle at his words. “I’m too sick for that, Papa.”

“You clearly have a fever if you think I’m going to laugh about this right now,” he states, removing his gloves and throwing them aside. His scowl is not in earnest, he’s not annoyed, of course, but he needs you to know your health is paramount.

“You’re so dramatic,” you whisper but you let him slot the thermometer between your lips anyway.

“I am dramatic? Who’s been locked inside their room like they have the plague without replying to my texts?” 

Papa presses the backs of his hands to your hot cheeks, acting like a mom who doesn’t trust the thermometer. You’re burning up, worrying him even more. Your skin is ashen, hair tousled, and he can see you shaking slightly.

At his words, your brow furrows. “I texted back,” you say, words muffled by the device in your mouth.

“You did not, amore. I have been wondering what I did to upset you so,” Papa admits. “I thought you were avoiding me. Ghosting me, as they say.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and as soon as Papa pulls out the thermometer, forehead scrunching up as he reads the 38.9°C, you start babbling.

“I was not, Papa. I would never. I was so sad I could not see you.” You swallow, groaning as the pain in your scratchy throat hits you. “Can you check my phone? I dropped it.”

Papa finds it under your bed. He lets you unlock it and you’re right, you did reply, only you never hit sent. I am sick in bed, Papa. I miss you too, but I would not want you to catch the flu. ♥︎

“I would never avoid you on you purpose,” you whisper, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

He bends down to kiss your feverish forehead, feeling the heat against his lips. “I know that now, amore, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I ever thought such a thing.”

“Amore?” you ask, grinning through a thick layer of haze. “That’s new, Papa.”

He can practically feel his cheeks turning rosy under his paint. “You know I like you, gioia mia, that is not new.”

“But amore is not just liking, right? It’s–”

“You have a fever, dolce. I need you to take the ibuprofen. Where do you keep your glasses?”

You pout at his interruption and with one last look at your puckered lips, he jumps up, avoiding not only your question but also the intense urge to kiss you. You’re in no condition to have a deep conversation right now. He searches the cupboards in your tiny kitchenette until he finds a glass he can fill with water. By the looks of it, you have not eaten all day, it’s far too clean.

“I don’t know if I can swallow,” you whine upon his return.

“We both know you’re very good at swallowing, amore. Open up.”

You frown without any real intensity and it’s an adorable sight, even in your messy, unkempt state. “I thought we weren’t joking about this.”

“It is allowed when I do it,” Papa says, practically shoving the pill into your mouth. “Drink, amore. You need liquids.”

You manage to swallow and the water feels like honey but only for a moment before the pain returns and your throat protests wildly. Even so, your mind still clings to his words.

“Papa,” you whine, reaching for his hand as soon as he’s set down the glass.

His mismatched eyes flicker to yours, still worried. “Yes?”

“You never answered.”

“We should talk about this tomorrow, sì? When you feel better.” At your sad expression he gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “I will go find some soup for you now, some other medication.”

“But I don’t want you to leave.”

“I will come back, dolce, you don’t make that pretty head worry too much, eh?” 

You whimper dramatically. “But what if I am dead by then?”

Papa sighs but it��s followed by deep chuckle as he playfully rolls his eyes at you. “You win, amore, I will text one of the ghouls.”

As soon as the text is sent, Papa closes the window again and starts to undress. From your position on the bed you’re watching him like a hawk, pulling a fuzzy blanket over your mouth to hide your grin. He can’t help but find it endearing and suddenly he feels even worse for assuming the worst today. Once he’s in his briefs and undershirt, he crawls into bed behind you, pulling you close. You’re a little sweaty, not exactly smelling fresh, but he doesn’t mind. Feeling your warmth, having you tucked against him, it’s all he really needs. 

And as his heart does a flip, racing thanks to your proximity, he gently cups your cheek. “Do you think you can give me a kiss, amore?”

“But you’ll get sick,” you whisper, the protest dying as soon as he tilts your chin up.

His lips graze yours, softly pressing in more and more until you melt against him. Even your lips are warmer than usual and he keeps it chaste, breaking away to look into your eyes again.

“Papas don’t get sick, eh?” He gives a tender kiss to your forehead, gently running his fingers through your hair before they settle on your back. “Now, you wanted an answer.”

Your look is pleading and it’s like your shining eyes are trying to lure the words right out of him. He wonders how he ever worried you may not feel the same when it’s written all over your face. His nerves start showing then, fidgety fingers drawing tiny patterns on your back, and he can feel your hands pressing into his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you,” he finally says. “You are my amore, my love. Tieni il mio cuore in mano. Please, I want to ask you to be mine.”

“I love you, too.” A big grin spreads out on your face. You lean in to kiss him again, softly moving your lips against his, and you stay impossibly close as you whisper. “And I am yours, forever, if you are mine.”

Papa smiles against your mouth and for a moment he forgets that you’re sick and kisses you harder. When he breaks away, you’re breathless, coughing softly, but he can tell by the happy look on your face that it was worth it.

“I am yours, amore,” he says. “I am yours forever, if Satan allows me.”

You settle against his solid chest, warm cheek pressed to the skin just above the neckline of his shirt. After today, your Papa vows to take better care of you, to trust you fully and cast any doubts aside as soon as they arise. And so he wraps his arms around you even tighter, whispering soft praises  into your hair until you’re finally asleep again, the only sound in the room your soft and even breathing.

non vedo l’ora di baciarti – I can’t wait to kiss you

tieni il mio cuore in mano – you hold my heart in your hand

[sugawarassoulmate]

i had a thought where mean!reader's sister suddenly cant find bokuto anywhere, who's usually following her wherever she goes. but then finds him hanging out with someone else and gets jealous!! yanks him away from whatever to shove him in a closet and gives him a bj just to show that shes capable of being nice too. then promptly throws him out when theyre done

for context, this is the younger sister of the mean!reader who bullies kuroo sksksk (keep up with the pcu)

also, this is like the third time we've written about blowing bokuto this week 👀

words: 493 cw: fem!reader, oral (m receiving), college party, name-calling, dubcon, minors dni

bokuto jumps when he feels an arm wrapped around his bicep. he's unceremoniously dragged away from the conversation he was having with the very nice girl at the party. it takes him a few seconds to get his bearings and realize that it's you dragging him into the hallway.

he slightly remembers your sister saying that you were coming to the party but bokuto lost her once she met up with kuroo. he isn't able to get a word in until he's suddenly pushed into a hall closet.

"h-hey, cutie, what's—"

"so you immediately go talk to someone else the second i'm not around?" you accuse, arms crossed.

bless his heart, bo is genuinely confused. "y-you said you didn't want me to bother y—"

"that doesn't mean you can talk to another bitch, are you serious?" you're much smaller than him but your intense, intimidating aura has bokuto pressed against the wall of the tiny closet. he doesn't know what to do so he apologizes—anything to stop you from being mad at him.

"i don't even know her, she was just nice..."

"i can be nice!" you snap, dropping to your knees and tugging at bo's pants. he doesn't have time to think before you've pulled his cock out and shoved it down your throat.

"haaa, fuck," he curses, feeling the warmth of your mouth on his length. anything else he wants to say dies on his tongue as you suck him, drooling all over the length of his cock and stroking the areas your lips can't reach.

bokuto whimpers when you give small kitten licks to the head, collecting the pre-cum in your mouth before taking him as far as you can once more. it's the best head he's ever had, it's not even close. he can feel his legs shaking, his fucking knees are about to give out. the only thing keeping bo standing is his hand on the wall next to him.

"shit, ahhh shit, y/n," he gasps, feeling his release come faster than he hoped. "you need to st—i'm gonna!" without another word, your mouth is full of bo's thick cum. he hears a noise of surprise under him and you pull off his cock with a cough, swallowing and licking as much as you can. "so—i'm sorry, fuck." he says, trying to reach for you but you slap his hands away.

bo watches in awe as you lick his cock clean, a few stray moans fall from his lips from the sensitivity. once every last drop of his seed is gone, you re-dress him.

"now get the fuck out and get me a drink," you order, opening the door and shoving him through it. bo's immediately overstimulated by the loud music of the party and is still in a haze from the head he just got.

but god damn it, the first thing he does is go to the kitchen to get your drink.

©sugawarassoulmate 2022 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

[equallyshaw]

So I lay in your arms and pretend that it's love | trevor zegras.

based off olivia rodrigo's song- scared of my guitar!

trevor x singer nameless oc!

not too sure if i wanna do gif's or pictures like that above..trying something new out (:

word count: 2.3k+

warnings: tbh, she's toxic...pls dont be like her.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

◦

Perfect, easy, so good to me So why's there a pit in my gut in the shape of you? Distract myself, say it's somethin' else Maybe I'm just overwhelmed, maybe I'm confused

◦

for around 11 months it was pure bliss...the two of them everywhere and anywhere. onlookers looked on with smiles and hushed whispers about how 'in love' they were. the two of them moved quickly in their relationship, but nobody found anything weird with it based on how their friends watched them and how they spoke about one another in the media when asked. trevor loved bringing home flowers whenever he came back from a roadie, or just because he felt like it. he showered her with gifts from the get-go as her own life was beginning to fill with riches, as her music career took off.

but once the 1 year mark was coming closer and closer, she began to feel a sense of dread. a sense of anxiety and fear, she hadn't had before. whenever she heard his name in passing or whenever somebody asked her about him, she'd freeze and stutter; not sure what to exactly say. or what was weirder, was that she spent more and more time at her apartment in la and not at his newport house...claiming that the record label was hounding her for an album and she was working day and night, like a dog. she did whatever she could in order to not think about him may it be hanging with friends, driving up and down the coast to san diego to visit family and taking spur of the moment trips with her friends. and when people asked her what was wrong or what she was thinking about, she'd always say 'work' and every white lie that came with that topic.

but when she see's trevor sporadically, she understands why she fell in love with him in the first place. he's charming, relentlessly nerdy, incredibly kind and respectful; all of which she adores. and while basking in that feeling for a bit of time, she feels guilty about how her feelings change when she's not with him. she then chalks it up to work, and how much pressure the label is giving her. so maybe just maybe, she'll stick it out with trevor.

◦

Barely sleep when you sleep next to me

But I keep thinkin' I'll find a cure

I say that I'm fine, I tell you all the time

I've never felt so happy and sure

◦

shortly after their one year, as she stays with trevor about once or twice a week, she can't help but toss and turn all night. claiming she's just stressed and overly exhausted, and he buys it all. he buys all her, "I've never been happier" or "I've never felt so sure about something in my entire life". he buys the, "once im done with the album ill move in with you." too, yet she knows they wont last. that sickening and dreadful feeling that keeps her up at night.

she goes to all of these lengths just to keep her heart from collapsing and her conscious from crumbling above her, and yet she knows right from wrong. she know's that the one that would be hurt the most is him.

◦

But I'm so scared of my guitar'

Cause it cuts right through to the heart

Yeah, it knows me too well so I got no excuse

I can't lie to it the same way that I lie to you

◦

but then when she sits down to write and come up with the chords for a song, she cant help but cry. everything becoming too much for her, her closest friends and producer seeing right through her. her music speaking the words, she can't help but think but not say. she knows that if she lies in a song, she'd be betraying her heart and her soul. her music being her lifelong love and escape, would truly affect her relationship with it.

◦

So I lay in your arms and pretend that it's love

◦

around a year and five months, she stopped writing. she stopped playing her guitar until the early morning hours. she stopped recording, citing that she was dealing with some personal issue. once the acknowledgment of 'oh shit, i need to break things off- soon' hit her mind one day during a writing session, she knew she couldn't write or sing until she did just that. and so she made her way down the coast to newport to do just that, but when she walked inside she saw a doe-eyed and blissful trevor in her midst. she crumbled right then and there, allowing him to make their way to the bedroom. she laid in his arms, not being able to fall asleep once again; and reminding herself that she loved trevor .. or at least needed to remind herself more. was it though? at least on her part?

◦

I was ravin', no boy like you I had the nerve to just stop stringin' you all along But I'm not half as decent as you I'd rather be tied to someone, even if they're wrong

◦

trevor was the guy, she thought when they first met. she thought that they were end game and would go to the absolute ends of the galaxy to believe that, to show and make people believe it too. and after some point, she felt guilty about stringing him along and talking about their future plans together. another morning she stopped by abruptly on her way from san diego, she knew she had to break things off with him. yet when she arrived at his place, she found him making breakfast and the brightest smile she hadn't seen in awhile. he went along and continued with his breakfast but not before making a cup of coffee for her and a extra serving of his breakfast for her. before leading her over to the dining room table and held her hand as they ate. guilt crept up her spine as she looked at him, talking about something that had happened on a road trip and she felt a pang in her heart. she was a coward. rather than break the band aid and say what she'd wanted to say for months now...she let him continue to speak.

he was a better person than she was, she thought. he would have ended things a long time ago if he'd felt what she'd felt or thought. he wouldn't have continued to string her along. he was a good person like that. but her? she was half the person he was, he was a good person with good intentions. the culprit?

she didn't want to be alone.

◦

I make excuses, my friends know the truth is I'm not as alright as I claim I say that I'm fine, I tell them all the time As they watch all the life fade away

◦

the life was draining from her and her friends watched as it did. she was hiding herself away in her los angeles apartment, shortly after she stopped writing. they were all rightfully concerned with her mental health and wouldn't take the 'im fine's!" she hurled at them time and time again. they even reached out to trevor and even he could not get her to come out of her shell. though, he never got the full story of why she was like that. he dropped around unannounced before and after practice, sometimes staying the night but most times slipping out after she'd fallen asleep. but not without a soft kiss to her temple, and tiptoeing out. his family and friends grew concerned when he opted to stay in newport for the offseason. by the offseason, she'd gone back into the studio and pushed through. the studio eating up whatever she had written, and loved it all.

◦

I pretend that it's love, love

'Cause what if I never find anything better? The doubt always creeps through my mind So we'll stay together 'cause how could I ever Trade somethin' that's good for what's right?

◦

with no end in sight, she continued to push through with the relationship, trying to get back to how things were before when she was without a doubt, happy and in love. when trevor does finally leave the sunshine state to go visit family and friends, she stays up thinking about her and trevor's future. would she find anybody better than him? would she find the love that they shared early in their relationship? would she find somebody almost as arrogantly confident? somebody with an infinite passion for what they do? their (affectionately) dumb friends who adored her? and somebody with a zest for life? her journals filled to the brim that summer with what had been eating her up inside.

when trevor comes back right before the season begins, he take's her out to malibu one early morning before the sunrise. she was groggy and tired from the night before, and so when she was awoken abruptly she groaned; trying to desperately to go back to bed. trevor said that he wanted to go for a sunrise and she hummed, thinking he'd go by himself. but instead, he tickled her enough to wake her up and she dreaded getting out of bed. they drove up to malibu that September 2nd, and held one another as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. he bit the inside of his cheek, body filled with nerves and anxiety. he whispered her name to begin with, and in the most trevor and most un trevor way, he proposed. she turned around to see him with tears in his eyes and visible anxiety washed over his features. she smiled softly feeling the inside of her scream to say no and beg her to leave the life she grown used to the past mere months. her smile grew wider and faker, as she said yes. trevor had gotten her dream ring from new york, and she gushed as he pulled it out. tears swelled her eyes as she felt her heart tug at the effort he'd made for her. she was going to show him the same effort as well, even if it hurt her to no end.

◦

her record label demanded an ep of some new songs they knew she undoubtedly had written after she got engaged. her album release was a massive success, going #1 and platinum in many countries. her career was reaching new heights and she was engaged? she was the it girl everybody wanted to be. yet she felt so very far from it, but kept that signature smile on at all times.

she felt herself buy into the idea of marrying trevor when she saw how excited her family was when they showed up to a private dinner the very evening of her album released. they gushed and gushed over the ring and endless possibilities her and trevor could have together. she saw how good both of their families bonded and got along with one another. she could feel the pride and gratitude that oozed off of trevor that night. he loved - no absolutely adored this life the universe had bespoked upon him. the singer was just another addition. he thought he had everything before they met, but when he saw her get absolutely hammered at a party they were both invited to; he was enamored. the grace she carried herself with when dancing, talking, singing and most importantly; the love she oozed for her friends was intoxicating. he could not and never wanted to get enough of it.

the look he gave her that night was one she'd never, ever forget in this lifetime. it was how all girls wished to be looked at. the one that would spare nothing to make their partner happy. the one where you know they'd go to the ends of the earth for you and with you. it was as if she hung the moon and the stars for him.

who would pass that up?

◦

I let the thought in, it's already done

◦

she brought into the idea of going through with the wedding after the release party and found herself immersed in wedding planning. she found herself non stop traveling with trevor that summer, after a serious playoff run. she found herself thinking of their future together because lets be honest, it was there. and she couldn't help but get excited just a bit when trevor had said, that she was going to be most beautiful bride and future mom to ever grace this planet. she looked at him through the mirror and again that look, captivated and brought her in.

◦ But I lay in your arms and pretend that it's love Yeah, I lay in your arms and pretend it's enough

◦

their wedding was a dream. an absolute dream. hollywood and hockey royalty showed up and showed out. the wedding of all weddings. they danced the night away to taylor swift. then as a surprise, trevor and his groomesman shamelessly, did a group dance to one of her upbeat songs as she sat there blushing like a fool, covering her face in embarrassment. they spent the night basking in everybody's presence, the singer not having a second to spare a second thought about what was going to be coming in the next few months. she knew that the world and everybody in their lives would be asking about kids and what not. yet, she pushed that towards the back of her mind. she played the role of a loving and adoring newlywed. she smiled to the camera's as if there was no tomorrow. her friends actually believing that she was happy and that she had found her way back to trevor. and in a way, that was true. she felt stuck with no way out.

the couple retreated back to the ritz carlton new york hotel suite, with a bottle of very expensive champagne, thin slice pizza and new york cheesecake. after stuffing their faces in between making out, the two fell asleep. or at least trevor did. the singer looked up at the ceiling, wide awake and unable to sleep. she had played the part this long...what was another ten?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

umm....sorry about that! part two is coming at some point because i wanna hurt myself even more lmao...

please like and reblog if you did and id love to hear your thoughts too!

tags: @cuttergauthier @zegrasbabyyy @hockeyboysarehot @slafgoalskybaby @sc0tters @sweetestdesire @jayda12 @starshine-hockey-girl @cellythefloshie

[filmnoirsbian]

okay the post u made trying to find the author of that poem made me think of an essay i lost that ive been looking for for a loooong time and im gonna take a chance and see if youve read it or could help me find it (but also feel free to ignore this if its annoying lol).

it was an essay by a young author, i would say she was in her 20s? for some reason the names emily or lauren ring a bell but thats just me guessing. the essay was about an experience she had with her family hound dog named maggie growing up. they lived in a mountainous area somewhere in the midwestern US or maybe more out west. the dog used to go up the mountain everyday that was basically in their backyard, and one day she was attacked by wolves. she was able to escape alive and make it all the way back home, torn to shreds. i cant remember if she died from her wounds or lived for a long time after that. but it was so fucking poignant and there was a deeper meaning to it and god i really wish i didnt lose it :') i remember reading it on some website, idk if it was published anywhere else, and i want to say she wrote the story in response to winning an award? idk if that helps at all but ANYWAYS if u have ever heard of this. that would be so cool lmao

OH MY FUCKING GOD IGNORE MY LAST ASK I JSUT DECIDED TO LOOK FOR IT AGAIN FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES AFTER TRYING SEVERAL TIMES BEFORE WITH NO SUCCESS AND I FUCKING FOUND IT!!!!!!!! its the half-wolves by emily ruskovich

I'm so glad‼️

[oddballcobblebot]

GOTHAM NYGMOBBLEPOT HEADCANONS!! ☂️❔

hiii !!!!! i luvv telling people my headcanons so here are some of mine!!

☂️ STARTING WITH OSWALD!! 🐧

he's autistic and has bpd!!

he struggles with textures related to his suits so he tries to get them all in a favorable texture, he loves silk and satin, cant stand velvet

left handed

he struggles with impulsive suicidal/self harm ideation due to bpd, when triggered by things he can spiral easily and become overwhelmed which causes the impulsive ideation

he likes most foods but finds some absolutely unbearable and refuses to eat them.

he has anger issues from his autism!! he gets overwhelmed which turns into rage (like me)

he lovess food, he loves trying food and is willing to eat anything ed makes about 98% of the time

if his clothes feel too restricting he will wear ed's because theyre bigger on him, but only around the house, never anywhere else

he's always been chubby even from childhood!! and was fat moreso season 5 and onward, especially after finale!

he struggles with gender identity but chooses not to label himself much, but if it were put into a term, mainly genderfluid. he uses both she/her and he/him interchangeably. lesbian freak. she is also uniromantic and is only in love with ed!!!

he has a very low self esteem and has a hard time looking in mirrors sometimes, especially after hurting his eye

he gets headaches very often but they aren't very debilitating. they are usually triggered by potent scents and lights

(secret headcanon i have he has POTS shhh)

he sometimes smokes weed when the pain in his leg is too much to handle and pain medication isn't helping

he wont ever say it, but he loves being cared for

❔ EDWARD NYGMA TIME!!! 🦉

he has npd, autism, and osdd!! he is a narc but not in the eww narcissists way, in the actual personality disorder way!!

severe sensory issues, especially towards lights and textures

hates the texture of grass

right handed

needs a near constant stream of npd supply, even if its in small ways like praising his riddles, ideas, calling him smart, etc

oswald listening to him intently is like a form of supply for him, feeling listened to is like supply

he uses she/her and he/him interchangeably like oswald, and discovered her gender identity in arkham (the last time she went for a decade...sad face), transgender lesbian!!

very very selective and picky with foods

loves to take care of oswald and cook, cooking makes it easier to cater to both of their texture needs, but they do occasionally eat out

loves infodumping to oswald about riddles and whatever is interesting him

nerm swana (turkish + arab specifically) !!

if oswald is smoking for leg pain u best bet ed is joining in!!!!!

loves to listen to oswald talk alot

he loves loves loves cats and pets the strays around gotham

he didnt ACTUALLY hate that oswald named his dog after him and found it quite endearing

🐧☂️ TOGETHER!!!!!1! NYGMARBLEPOT ❔🦉

they both love having meals together and talking about future endeavors

oswald runs the iceberg lounge after the finale, edward is also a co owner

they spend a lot of time together

oswald sleeps on the left side of the bed, edward on the right

edward helps oswald a lot when hes having problems with anger, he tries to be more logical rather than just trying to tell him to "calm down." trying to give him a solution and talking it through helps oswald more

oswald keeps candles and dim lights around the manor to help with ed's sensory problems related to lights, as well as to prevent headaches for himself too

edward helps oswald with his leg a lot, like reminding him to take medications or use his cane when needed. he is always there to remind oswald its okay to need help with things time to time

they both love listening to eachother

oswald likes drinking more than ed does, he loves gin and tonic, frozen margaritas, and martinis. ed prefers not to drink, but doesnt mind a martini either. ed doesnt drink on his own, only with oswald really

oswald became an occaisonal smoker after blackgate, using it to calm any anxiety he gets. ed doesnt like it that much and hates the smell, but he bears with it for oswalds sake. doesnt mean he doesnt try to get him to stop, though

edward loves oswalds size and constantly compliments him, he loves oswald no matter what weight he is and never comments on his body negatively ever

they both have tons of bodily scars

they are both very physically affectionate with eachother but dont really like being touched by other people at all, both are very touch avoidant when it comes to anyone but eachother

both use fem terms on eachother and refer to eachother with she/her a lot!! they both love being fem in private

ed's special interest is riddles and oswald's is penguins!!! eds always loved riddles and puzzles, while oswald learned more about them after the title was bestowed upon him. he also loves sharks!!!

THEY R IN LOVE!!!!! !!!!

thats all. bye bye!!

[chbnews]

GUYSSSSSSSSS GUYS I KISSED A PRETTY GIRL LAST NIGHT BUT I DIDNT GET HER NAME AND I CANT FIND HER ANYWHERE AND IT WAS DARK HELP DID ANYONE SEE CAN YALL HELP ME FIND HER OHHHHH MY GODSSSSSSS

-🎀

I DIDNT SEE BUT I THINK SHES FROM NEMESIS CABIN!!! SOMEONE TOLD ME LAST NIGHT ABOUT IT- Nico Di Angelo 💀🪦

[marsssbarrrr]

hold you (k.bakugou x reader x i.midoriya polyamorous)

inspiration: Freaks by Surf Curse

oneshot where fem!reader in a secret poly relationship with our fav boys gets kidnapped by the league to be used as leverage or smthn idk

reader has no specified quirk, reader does NOT attend UA, reader and bakygou/midoriya are childhood friends. this is purely self-indulgent bc i cant find any story like this anywhere on the internet and i need to feed my delusions

WARNINGS: sewerslidal reader, SH(mentioned), abusive parents(mentioned), eating disorder(mentioned), reader is homeless (briefly). THIS IS SOME DARK SHIT BUT IT ENDS GOOD I PROMISE

the day started as usual for midoriya and bakugou. wake up, bicker, eat a quick breakfast, bicker, walk to class, bicker, iida yells at them to stop bickering, and they bicker some more.

nothing seemed off for the first few hours. sure, neither of them had gotten the usual good morning text from [name], but she had some crazy midterms coming up. it wasn't all that unusual for her to stay up late and sleep in, forgetting to text them in her rush to get to class on time.

but when lunch rolled around, and still neither had received a text, they started to worry. their classmates had noted the lack of bickering in the second half of the day, and the constant checking-of-phones. their anxiety wafted across the suddenly cramped classroom like midnight-sensei's quirk. slow and suffocating. everyone felt it.

neither noy had noticed the worrisome glances their respective friends shot back and forth. they were too wrapped up in their thoughts. they spent all of class texting back and forth.

b.k: what if her parents found out about us?

i.m: she would have found a way to message us if that were the case.

i.m: i'm more worried she did something to herself. i think one of us should drop by her place after classes.

b.k: you go. i'm better at shutting these morons up anyways. i'll tell them you're visiting aunt inko or smthn.

i.m: thanks kacchan.

b.k: fuck off.

it was no secret to the boys that [name] was suicidal. nor that her parents were homophobic, abusive pricks. throughout their childhood, her parents made that very clear. she'd mention to them sometimes how both boys were cute, and the result was more often than not purple and blue marks poorly covered by the sleeves of her elementary school uniform.

by the time they'd reached middle school, those poorly hidden bruises turned into thin lines.

[name]'s parents didn't believe in medication, nor in therapy. for a long time, her only comfort was in the homes of bakugou katsuki and midoriya izuku.

after izuku was deemed quirkless, her parents wouldn't let her be around him anymore. so the trio spent most days hiding out at the bakugou's place. it was there that she confided in the boys about her parents. it was there that the three of them became an offical polyamorous relationship. it was there they had their first kiss.

inko and the bakugou parents were more parent-like than [name]'s parents ever were to her. she trusted them with everything.

after classes, the boys sat in the dorm common room with the rest of their class.

neither boys' constant glances at their phones were lost on their classmates. every flip of the screen and refresh of the page was caught by the other students.

every notification prompted a glance. that included the shared ding of both boys' phones.

[fn].[ln]: i need you.

[fn].[ln]: please.

i.m: where are you

[fn].[ln]: (location sent)

b.k: we're on our way.

neither boy stopped to grab a jacket or umbrella before shoving their shoes on and bolting out the door of the alliance building. neither boy said a word to their classmates, or even spared them a glance after the last text was sent.

as soon as they were out of the building, the class went to alert aizawa, who followed suit in a similar fashion to the boys.

he followed them through the heavy downpour as they turned off the main road, midoriya yelling out directions while bakugou dragged him along, both moving faster on foot than aizawa had seen them move before.

after the fifth turn, they stopped.

katsuki was quick to crouch down in front of you, and izuku sat against the wall behind you. you lifted your head from your knees, tears standing apart obviously from the rain on your face.

katsuki pulled you into a hug, and you sobbed harder.

"they kicked me out," you muttered into his shoulder, "they found out about us."

katsuki's face fell, and izuku's hardened.

"i'm calling sensei-"

"no, please, god izu, please don't."

izuku dropped the hand holding his phone, sighing. "[name], the first thing they'll do is look for you at one of our places. they'll realize what they did and decide to deal with it on their own. we all know they will."

katsuki pulled back, cupping your face in his hands and rubbing his thumb along your cheek. "[name], please. let him call aizawa. you'll be safer at the school than you will be at any of our places."

you sniffed, looking up into katsuki's eyes.

the fight had been ugly. your parents searched your room while you were at school the day before, and found letters between the three of you. from before you had phones. from before you learned how to be discreet.

your father was quick to lay hands on you as soon as you got home, yelling about what a slut and a whore you were. your mother just leaned against the door frame, arms crossed and head shaking in disappointment.

they kicked you out with nothing but the phone in your pocket and uniform on your body.

you sniffed, leaning into katsuki's touch. "...okay."

izuku picked his phone back up, and katsuki held you close. before the phone could ring even once, aizawa dropped from the roof above. "just what in the hell is going on here."

you tensed, and katsuki held you closer, whispering sweet words and comforting phrases into your ear as you shook from fear and the icy coldness of the rain around you.

izuku stood, making his way over to the teacher in front of him. he explained the situation the best he could, staying as calm as possible.

but his girlfriend was falling apart in front of him damnit, and there was nothing he could do out here.

"sensei, please. just for the night."

aizawa sighed. "she can stay for the night. i can't promise anything more than that, it's ultimately the principal's call."

"thank you, sensei."

izuku moved back over to where you and katsuki sat, and croushed down.

"hey, we have to get up [name]."

"i can't..."

"c'mon, [name]. you're so much stronger than you think you are. we just have to get to the school, it's only a couple blocks. then you can rest, alright?" katsuki stroked his hand through your hair, forehead resting against yours.

"i can't..."

izuku sighed, making eye contact with katsuki. the blonde nodded, standing and picking you up with him. he held you close to his chest, your knees folded around one arm and back resting against the other. you held on tight around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder.

izuku stood, turning to face aizawa. and you started the trek back to the school.

-

you sat on the couch an hour later, blanket around your shoulders and head resting on katsuki's shoulder. you were sound asleep, thank god.

the situation had been hard to explain to the boys' classmates. they didn't know either boy was even in a relationship, let alone with each other and another person.

eventually everyone went back up to their dorms, except for you and your boys. izuku and katsuki sat whispering to each other while you spelt in the blonde's arms.

they'd keep you safe and keep you away from your parents.

no matter what that meant or what it would cost them in the long run.

[nix-for-kix]

MORE WENCLAIR SNAKE AU

……..because I’m obsessed (I’m just gonna like info dump all the thoughts in my head so be prepared)

So one day Enid is going on a jog around campus and she sees this big ass snake on the side of the road on the brink of death and brought it to Wednesday and was crying and was like “fix her” and Wednesday was like “Like Taxidermy ?” And Enid was like “NO “ and then she’s like “fine my uncle taught me the joys of electroshock therapy” and fucking zaps the snake and that somehow works and they keep the snake and Enid names her fluffy and Wednesday absolutely hates the name but then Enid says something like “Her middle name can be Nero if you want” and Wednesday stops complaining about the name.

Wednesday and fluffy have very similar reactions to thing Enid says.

Enid: *crying over dog videos*

Fluffy and Wednesday: 😐

Fluffy Wednesday and Enid all go out to the woods whenever it’s a full moon and Enid and Fluffy play and shit and Wednesday watches (if thing finds a picture like the one below on Wednesday’s camera role then she’ll blackmail him into silence)

One day Enid takes Fluffy to class with her because….

E: it’s her birthday

W: Enid you found her in the side of the road half dead there is no way you know her birthday

E: I do too

W: pray tell how

E: Ajax told me

W: Ajax ?

E: yeah I take fluffy to go on play dates with Ajax so she can socialize with other snakes :)

W: snakes are know to be solitary creatures ?

E: well fluffy likes them right girl

F: *slithers around*

E: see

W: …..ok fine but that still doesn’t explain how you know today is her birthday

E: Oh she told Ajax’s snakes who then told me

Ajax and Enid share snake care tips

Oh yeah forgot to mention that Fluffy is a full grown black and white ball point python so do with that what you will.

She escaped from a zoo near Jericho and since the mayor is freshly dead and the sheriff was a bit preoccupied with a certain Hyde incident a rouge snake was the last thing on his mind so Fluffy just kinda slithered over towards Nevermore and got fuckin bodied by a car

Thing and fluffy are besties

E: ah shoot i forgot something in class, Thing could you watch Fluffy for a bit

T: (thumbs up)

E: you’re the best

*fluffy and thing look at each other*

—————————

*Wednesday and Enid walk in seeing Thing riding Fluffy like a horse a tiny cowboy hat and bandana on the disembodied hand*

So even though Wednesday will never outright admit it, Fluffy has definitely grown on her. Like she loves that snake.

E: Wednesday have you seen fluffy ? I cant find her anywhere and its time for her to go to the vet for a check up

W: *in bed under the covers* and what make you think I know where she is

*covers move slightly as a bit of fluffy's tail peeks out of the covers*

*enid and wednesday just stare at each other*

E: *pulls back the covers to reveal fluffy tightly coiled around wednesday* really ????

W (to fluffy): I told you she would find out

F: *sad slithers*

Fluffy is the homophobic dog meme

Wednesday, Enid, Fluffy and Thing all watch movies together every Friday night after the Hyde incident it’s kind of a long-standing thing and very important to Enid. Wednesday acts like she could care less but if anything that she needs to do comes up on a Friday she reschedules or does it really fast to make at least some part of the movie night. Every week someone new gets to pick a movie so like Enid usually picks a romcoms, Wednesday always picks horror (the scream movies are her favorite) Thing picks silent movies, and Fluffy always picks Disney movies. One week it’s Fluffy’s turn to pick the movie but a new Scream movie had just came out and Wednesday really wanted to watch it so Wednesday bribed Fluffy

W: I realize it is your week to choose but might I interest you in this cinematic masterpiece

F:…

W: fine if you choose this movie I will personally find you a big juicy rat for you to eat from my collection

F: …

W: fine two

F: ….

W: you drive a hard bargain 3

F: *slithers approvingly*

W: pleasure doing business with you

Enid spends most of the movie curled into Wednesday’s side. (And while Wednesday did enjoy the scream franchise the werewolf practically sitting in her lap was a plus)

I am running out of space to write so imma reblog with some more

[slashingdisneypasta]

You want old men thoughts?? Hmm.... Right now I can't think of much, but I'll give you the little things I got XD

- Imagine in the Norman and Inkubus imagine you made, it's actually Norman that gets you first. You two have an established relationship before Inkubus came along, and started trying to seduce you. You insist to Norman that this new guy is 'just a friend', but even blind he can see that this guy has no good intentions towards his little wife.

- Imagine that you were the one victim of the Fireflies that managed to escape, and now Otis is obsessed with 'finishing what he started' with you. At first, it was with the intention to kill, but he just can't stop thinking about you lately (I'm not sure how in character this is, but I hope you still enjoy it XD)

- Ok this isn't sexual, but imagine you and Jim share a bed together, and in the middle of the night, you at first feel your husband shaking. You look over your shoulder to see his still sleeping face, and it looks scared. Pained. And you hear him muttering... You know what he's dreaming about. It's the same dream he's had ever since that God forsaken poaching trip he went on that almost killed him.

It's not much, but I hope you enjoy these imagines! ^^

OLD MEN-

Norman Nordstrom x Reader x Inkubus-

I loveee this prompt XDD Its like:

Y/N: *Introducing their husband and their nice new friend 'Klaus'* And like I said Norm, we're just goin' to the shops for a bit. Norman, getting bad vibes off of this... 'Klaus': I don't want you goin anywhere with him. Y/N: ... :D *w h a t... * Y/N: *Eyeroll* Don't worry Norm!, I love you, Klaus is just a friend ^^ Inkubus, who has been quiet up until that moment.: ... excuse me I'm what-

OR

Y/N, explaining to Norman who's at the door (You're lovely new friend obviously XD ) and that you two are just going out shopping: Don't worry Norm!, I love you, Klaus is just a friend ^^ He doesn't have any weird intentions, don't be possessive. Norman: Hmm... I gues- Inkubus: *'Absentmindedly' tapping his foot on the porch outside- you cant hear it but Norman with his exceptional senses sure can. And why is it significant?... its Morse code for 'OH YES. I DO.' *

Otis B Driftwood x Reader-

Its totally in character!! I can absolutely see Otis being pissed and obsessing until, like, Baby mentions that she swears he has a crush~~ And he obviously curses at her and the fight because no way in hell does he have a fucken crush, but then when Baby skips off- he has an epiphany~ Like hm... (: Maybe I do have a thing on the slippery little fuck-cunt... Oh, heh heh, even better.

CUZ HE KNOWS, he KNOWS, being in a relationship with him is the worse sentence he could have ever dreamt up even on the purest of LSD.

Warnings; Capture, restraints, (Light) non-con touching/sexual assault and heavy allusions to rape. Just because I wrote this under your ask, does not mean you have to read it if you are uncomfortable. Technically all this can be sub-categorised under Otis' name, but I want to be clear XD My head goes to a darkkk place when I write Otis, okay? I'm sorry-

The old fucker's huge hand was tight over your mouth and nose as he leant in and grinned with dirty teeth at you. "... congrats, for what its worth. Its never taken me this long to find someone. Heheh, you're a good runner, gingerbread. Too bad you're not so good at hiding."

In responce you struggle once again against the restraints keeping you down on your knees; bare skin digging into the gravel parking lot beneath you. The tag ties around your wrists keep your arms stuck painfully behind your back as well as your ankles rubbing raw against each other.

"... lemme explain to you why you don't wanna fight me, alright?... " His hand squeezes you jaw, and you just wonder why he seems in such good spirits. The last time you saw him you were in the bed of a truck racing away from his crazy ass Texas chainsaw-style and he looked about ready to rip your throat out with his gross teeth. What changed? Why is he smiling, now? "... you see, uh... oh shit, I'm a little nervous!" there is not a single sign of nervousness in his eyes; Just a cruel amusement. "Okay, here we go- I like you." Immediately you try to struggle again but his other hand clamps around your arm and holds you still- and close. "Yeah. And well I usually don't take so well to, um... you know, little fucken bitches like you gettin' away... ehhhhh, I'm mellowing out in my old age, I guess. So! Here's the deal,

"I'll play nice. You know, I wont uh... hurt you, I guess. I promise, okay? Scouts honour, or whatever. But you... you gotta play nice too, k? You gotta... " Otis eyes flicker, moving purposefully from where they had been steadfast to yours for the past few minutes... down your body. The hand on your arm moves and ever so gently his knuckles graze against your chest. You jaw would drop if it wasn't restrained. You would shiver. You would hit him. With another creepy chuckle, Otis gives a grimy smirk to you. "You gotta be realll nice, to old Otis. Yeah?

"That's the only way yer gettin' outta this alive, sweet thing. Take it or leave it; its up to you. See? I'm nice!"

Jim Bickerman x Reader-

That's okay, it doesn't need to be sexual! We also love old men XD

We have had the comedy, we have had the horror... now we get the angst and the fluff XD Here we go-

You're slowly roused from sleep by the cold, Jim assumedly hogging the blanket (Though that's not a thing he does, he usually doesn't even care about the blanket) so you sit up turn your head to look down at him; And immediately you wince.

"Oh, no... "

With his good hand clamped over his own mouth and his skin looking pale, its obvious exactly what he's dreaming about. His eyebrows are furrowed in his sleep and the lines in his forehead and the bridge of his nose are deep, his breathing is haggard and you know it has to be a nightmare.

This has happened before, ever since that trip back to Blackwater you wish he hadn't taken, and every time seems even worse then the one before. And they change him; The bags under his eyes haven't ever been deeper then they are these days; at least not as long as you've known him.

The worst part is knowing you cant wake him up, you can just be useless there beside him wondering what he's seeing. What part of him the teeth are ripping apart this time. Whether he's getting out alive, this time.

Taking a deep breath yourself, you carefully peel his fingers off his mouth so he can breath properly, holding it tight in your own hand instead. And then you just sit there, in the dark (The only light in the room being what the moon creates, coming in through the window Jim broke a couple days ago.), squeezing his hand and hoping he'll wake up soon. That he'll wake up.

When finally he lurches up beside you, breathing heavily as he wakes up and crushing your fingers so hard his knuckles go white and so do yours, you just let him calm down on his own. Just hold his hand and try to give him space while not giving him space at all; wanting him to have room, but not wanting him to feel alone. You're right here and you're not going anywhere. You feel absolutely useless, but... you're not going anywhere.

A few heavy moments pass where he just breaths, and you just watch him with worry-filled eyes, until the pulse you can feel in his wrist returns to close-to-normal, and you give his hand one final, hard squeeze before letting it go. Instead you silently enfold enfold him in your arms, him immediately dissolving into you; wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your shoulder, slowly taking some more relaxed breaths.

"Heh... not a fan of those nightmares peanut but I gotta say I like the service I get afterwards."

"... are you okay?... "

"I'm fine." He always says he's fine, but fine would mean no more nightmares. Jim says that he's fine when he has shrapnel in his knuckles, Jim said he was fine the other day after he fell off the roof- you do not trust his fine, at all. Crazy bastard that he is; His 'fine' is completely without basis in reality.

"... you're fine?" You ask, an obviously-dubious look on your face as you lean back and tilt your head at him.

Jim smirks, something you can just see in the dim-lit room. "With my flask and possibly a little under-the-covers action sweetheart I could be better then fine." The smirk transforms into a whole grin and you cant help but roll your eyes; Grinning yourself a little, despite yourself.

He's nuts, but you kinda love him for it. "How about water, and some ice cream?"

Eyes hardening, Jim gives you a 'you cant fix my liver' kind of look. You're very familiar with it; It makes you want to laugh. "How about homebrew and ice cream?- and, also, where the hell are we gettin' this ice cream from missy?? I didn't think we had any more. Either you're makin' empty promises to an old cripple with ptsd or you've been holdin' out on me."

-oh damn. Quickly you let go of him and hop outta bed. "... uh... well no we dont have ice cream... not that you know of, anyway." Avoiding eye contact, you busy yourself collecting the half-empty cups of water off of both of your night stands. "So you- uh- wanted moonshine?? Great, sounds fantastic, lets go- "

He's not to be deterred, an amused glint in his eye as he watches you. "Where are you keeping this ice cream, dumpling? I know theirs none in our freezer."

"Uhhhm... "

"Hmm?"

"... fine I have a secret mini freezer in the back. You kept stealing my Ben & Jerries, I had no other choice! Now, do you want some or not? Because if not, I'll just go eat it myself!" With that, you grab a discarded flannel off the floor for the chill and rush out of the bedroom- but its not long before you hear the sound of his prosthetic leg hit the ground.

... Its not long later after that when Jim has you backed up against the cold brick wall just outside the back door; Leant in close and with one hand and one hook on your waist. As well as a devils look in his eye that makes you grin under its scrutiny.

"I believe we made a vow, sweetheart, somethin' like what's mine is yours??... "