#So they got in the habit of cutting corners and not paying me

[rotzaprachim]

Local neighborhood drama thing I feel conflicted about with this family I babysat for for a year or so who are the epitome of the white waspy (kinda) expats who think they’re more progressive than they are and were just…. Not good employers. And how bad I feel for their whole situation because it’s a mom saddled with two kids with no family in the area who as far as I can figure out only gets respite from when she can pay babysitters, and who has been struggling with her mental health a lot recently. But also I do not particularly enjoy spending time with their kids (I don’t know if it’s me being not great with kids but I space out like no other time) and I really really do not enjoy their ve tu large untrained dogs climbing on me, but like, damn is society and the patriarchy extremely fucked up for putting this situation on women

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: KISS & MAKE UP

✩ ‧ ˚. streamer!au: after the breakup, you two decide to make up in the traditional way—by having sex! NSFW

contents: fem!reader. oral (f. recieving), p –> v, teasing, praise, hair pulling (m. recieving), missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, use of pet names (too many to list here). not proofread bc you couldn't pay me to read all this again. 2.5k words. read this fic beforehand for better understanding of the context, but you don't have to.

author's note: tumblr hates me and that's why the banner quality's trash. if u wanna see the details, click here. anyways the streamer!gojo smut has finally arrived, tagging @satorena @screampied @cultrise, enjoyyy ;)

“did you tell them we’re back together?”

satoru nods in response to your question, plopping down on the couch next to you. he's spent the last hour chatting with his stream, and eventually he broke the news that you and him were back together after the breakup.

“yeah, i did,” he confirms, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. your hands automatically move to his hair and you thread your fingers through the soft white strands, pausing after a couple seconds to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

a week ago, you and satoru had an admittedly messy breakup—not messy in the sense that it got toxic or dramatic, but messy in the way that it could’ve easily been avoided. it wasn’t that big of a deal, but thankfully, you and satoru resolved your misunderstanding within a relatively short time.

since then, things have been a little different—satoru’s been taking a break from streaming, which gave him move time to spend with you and away from his thousands of fans. it was his suggestion, and not surprisingly, it worked. but all good things have to come to an end, and your “honeymoon” away from satoru’s stream seems to be coming to a close.

“something smells good,” satoru notes, lifting his head and glancing at the kitchen. “wait, is that ramen?” your boyfriend gasps, eyes rounding as he looks at you hopefully. 

“yeah, you said you were craving it, so i made some,” you reply with a smile, untangling yourself from his arms and walking over to the kitchen. satoru blows you a flurry of kisses that you see out of the corner of your eye as you check on the ramen, which looks pretty much done.

“y’know, i still haven’t forgiven you for the shit you pulled last week,” you say dryly, turning off the stove and draining the water from the ramen into your sink. the steam rises up as the boiling water slips down into the drain, clouding your face for a moment before it dissipates into thin air. 

“...does that mean i don’t get to eat that ramen?” satoru asks tentatively, a nervous smile on his lips as you empty a packet of flavored powder into the ramen. you shoot him a look and raise an eyebrow, turning back to the stove to hide your smile.

“maybe, maybe not,” you reply coyly, not wanting to give in too soon.

“boo, you whore.”

you roll your eyes and divide the ramen into two bowls, one for you and one for your boyfriend. “you’re lucky i’m too nice to let you starve, regina,” you say pointedly, walking back over to the couch and handing one of the bowls to him, which satoru takes with both hands—a habit from his childhood that never went away. “otherwise you’d be—”

satoru cuts you off by poking your lips with his chopsticks, steaming hot ramen wrapped around them. you reluctantly open your mouth and let him feed you, smiling when he seals the bite with a kiss. 

“best girlfriend ever,” satoru proclaims when he pulls away, a lazy smile playing on his lips. his soft blue eyes study your own, observing your unusually guarded expression and frowning.

“how many times do i gotta apologize for my bullshit before you stop making that face at me?” he grumbles, twirling his chopsticks in his bowl and taking a bite of the ramen. it’s cute how satoru’s face lights up at the taste, and it’s even cuter how his eyes round at you in awe when he takes another bite. “i didn’t know instant ramen could be this good,” he muses, licking any lingering flavor off of his lips.

“very funny, satoru,” you laugh, swirling your chopsticks around the broth and watching the rest of the steam rise from your bowl. “and to answer your question, i don’t really know.”

satoru tilts his head and takes a sip of his water, ice clinking against the side of the glass. when you respond to his question, he pauses and tilts his head in confusion. “...wait, what does that mean?”

you think for a second, choosing your words carefully. “i’m not sure how long it’ll take until we’re back to… normal,” you say cautiously. in all honesty, you weren’t that pissed off at him—you never were. but the fact that satoru was so ready to throw your relationship away over something as small as that was upsetting, to say the least. and you weren’t entirely sure it wouldn’t happen again.

satoru looks at you thoughtfully, more serious than you’ve seen him in a while. you can almost see the gears turning in his head before he replies. “any idea how i can make it up to you?”

you shrug, swallowing another bite of ramen before you meet his eyes. “you tell me. actions speak louder than words.”

your boyfriend drops his chopsticks, letting them clatter around in the bowl before he stands up. he extends a hand to you, a determined glint in his eye. “then lemme prove it to you.”

“satoru, you can’t bribe me with sex.”

“that’s not all i’ll be doing, sweetheart. trust me.”

and that’s how you ended up in his room, hands tangled in satoru’s soft white hair as he eats you out. his tongue laps at your cunt with quick, kitten-like strokes, and he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. “feels s’good, satoru,” you breathe, involuntarily tugging on his hair and dragging out a groan from his lips. “sorry—”

“don’t apologize,” satoru mumbles in reply, nose brushing against your dripping thighs as his tongue slips past your folds and goes in deeper. he looks up and locks eyes with you, unable to resist smiling at the way your legs tremble around him. “aw, you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he murmurs, flicking his tongue in and out of your cunt with a grin. “and i’m the one who should be—fuck, you’re gorgeous—apologizing.”

this isn’t the first time satoru’s eaten you out, but it feels like it every single time—somehow, his tongue has a talent of rendering you unable to focus on anything else but him. you grind your hips against satoru’s face, eyes squinted shut as your boyfriend flattens his tongue before lapping your slick up with cloudy eyes. “shit, i don’t know what i’d be without you,” he murmurs, voice low and steady—and something about his tone makes you certain he’s being completely honest with you.

“you’re so—fuck, satoru, i’m gonna cum,” you breathe, back automatically arching when satoru’s tongue reaches that spot inside you. he laughs, and the vibration of the soft sound against your puffy, sensitive cunt almost makes your legs give out—but thankfully, satoru’s hands are secured around your thighs, holding you in place. “‘toru, i can’t—”

“yeah, y’can, just relax that pretty pussy for me,” he cooes, licking up the slick dripping down his chin. “c’mon, you’re doing so good f’me, keep going, baby.” and just like that, his tongue slips out of your cunt and he lets you cum—the sheer force of your orgasm hits you like a truck, and your hips roll against satoru’s face in a choppy rhythm as you desperately ride it out, hands gripping and accidentally yanking his hair.

you stutter out his name a couple more times, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of satoru’s mouth on your sensitive, gushing pussy. your boyfriend praises you the whole way, gently murmuring soft words about how sweet you are for letting him taste you, even while your relationship was rocky. when your voice steadies enough for satoru to make out what you’re begging him to do, he’s not at all surprised to hear you plea for him to fuck you—so stands up and tugs you down onto his bed, hand intertwined with yours as he pulls the sheets over your bodies. 

you squeeze satoru’s hand and lean in to kiss him, chest still heaving from your earlier orgasm. naturally, you miss his lips and end up kissing the side of his face, which is flushed bright red from the way his body reacts to the taste of your pussy. “don’t ever leave me like that again,” you whisper, tears pricking at your eyes for some reason—maybe it’s the lovesick way satoru looks at you, or maybe it’s the way he’s holding onto you like there’s no place he’d rather be.

“i won’t,” satoru promises, pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead and pulling your head into his chest. his lips touch the top of your head as he murmurs, “and if i do, shoot me.” it sounds like a joke, but you both know that he’s dead serious.

“good thing i won’t have to do that,” you say with a soft giggle. your smile is heart-achingly familiar to satoru, and it feels like home—and that’s the realization that has him stripping off what little clothing the two of you still have on before he climbs on top of you. 

satoru touches the tip of his dick to your pussy, waiting for your nod to allow him to go in all the way. after a second, you dip your chin and trail your fingers down satoru’s jaw, grabbing his chin and pulling him down into another kiss. his lips linger for a couple seconds, still-minty breath tickling your face, before he pulls away. satoru slowly lowers his hips and nudges his dick inside of your desperate cunt, hands resting on either side of you.

even though it’s only been a little over a week since you last had sex with satoru, it feels like it’s been forever—your boyfriend curses when he feels how tight you are, mumbling something about missing you “so fucking much” as he goes in deeper and deeper. it hurts a little at first, but you quickly get used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

“fuckin’ hell, i’m never gonna get tired of this,” satoru breathes, dipping his head and kissing your collarbone. a single drop of sweat drips down the side of his face as he watches you squirm, eyes soft and endearing as you do so. he starts rolling his hips back and forth against you to loosen you up a little, dragging out soft moans from you as he does so. 

“yeah, you better not,” you mutter, tilting your head back and drawing in a long breath of air. you can’t remember the last time you felt this good—maybe it was the last time satoru fucked you. “satoru, y’re going so slow—”

your boyfriend cuts you off with a particularly harsh thrust, making your body jolt against his mattress. satoru lifts his head and looks you in the eye, a breathy laugh slipping out of him when he sees the pout on your lips. “the fuck you mean, i’m going slow? you want me to tear you apart? silly girl,” he tuts, back to his usual cocky self. he shakes his head and goes deep enough in you to force you to arch your back, starting to grin at the way you paw at his chest. “always so selfish, aren’t you?” he cooes, dipping his head and giving you a sloppy kiss on the forehead. “but you’re always—so—fuckin’—sweet,” satoru whispers, punctuating each word with a thrust hard enough for you to moan out his name more times than you can count.

“you’re the selfish one,” you mumble, lips trembling enough to muffle your voice. satoru huffs out a sigh and kisses your mouth, teeth gently brushing against your bottom lip. “you broke up with me for no reason,” you continue, tears pricking at your eyes again. “you think i’m gonna forgive you this fast?” 

satoru shakes his head again and caresses the side of your face. “will you?” he asks, slowing his pace enough for you to notice. you mutter something about him edging you on purpose, to which satoru shushes you and repeats his question.

“maybe.”

“you gotta stop giving me maybe’s, baby—y’re drivin’ me crazy here.”

in the past week, satoru’s done so much for you, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. on the day after your breakup, he picked you up from your house and took you for a picnic entirely curated by him. on the second day, he made you breakfast, lunch and dinner—it wasn’t the best food you ever had, but it was definitely the most memorable (in more ways than one). on the third day, he took you out to your favorite amusement park and did everything he could to make you smile—by then, you had pretty much forgiven him, and the giant teddy bear he dropped in your bedroom only made you love him more. the rest of the days were filled with longing glances and little gifts left around your house, which only helped him earn more and more of you back.

so, you figure that satoru deserves what comes next.

“okay,” you whisper. 

satoru’s eyes widen and he hesitates before he tentatively asks, “does this mean—”

you don’t let him finish his question, instead grabbing his face and tugging him down into a full kiss. he lets out a soft hm? in surprise, but kisses you back more than gratefully. “c’mon, make me cum,” you breathe when he finally pulls away. satoru nods dazedly and mouths “i love you” before he goes back in you, pace faster than before.

one of his hands snakes down to your waist, holding it in pace while the other caresses your face. you gaze up at him with a soft smile, eyes fluttering open and closed every time his dick hits your sweet spot—which is more times than your body can handle, but you welcome the feeling of him deep inside of you. after barely a couple thrusts, a coil forms in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter with each movement of satoru’s hips. 

satoru laughs, chest heaving as he grins down at you cheekily. “i knew you’d forgive me,” he murmurs, pinching your cheek affectionately. “m’ so sorry—”

“shut up and fuck me,” you interrupt, tongue starting to loll out of your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to cumming all over satoru’s dick. 

“as you wish, princess.”

satoru’s breathing slowly changes, becoming more choppy and uneven the closer you watch him get to his high—it’s so, so close for both of you, and when it comes, it takes over both of your minds like a drug. satoru curses and groans out your name, thrusts growing sloppy as he desperately rides out his orgasm. cum shoots out from his dick and coats the inside of your cunt white, dripping out once you physically can’t take any more.

you run your hands all over satoru’s body, clawing and gripping at every inch of skin you can latch onto—satoru’s always been your anchor, and you hope that he always will be. one of his hands leaves the side of your face and tangles with your fingers, holding it down against the mattress as he promises to never screw you over like that again, and you’re only too welcoming to him and his words as you squirt all over his dick. “fuck, satoru—”

he lifts his eyes and meets your own, and unlike you, his vision is clearer than ever. “shoot me if i ever leave you again, baby. i’m serious.”

you raise a shaky hand and touch the side of his face, eyes fluttering shut as you murmur, “i know i won’t have to.”

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

49 / 1.5k / TF141's free use medic + lil riff on @majinbangus's words about Ghost trying to teach Soap how to take care of his toys.

...

"Is the collar really necessary?"

Ghost smirks, pulling the leash taut. "Are you really in any position to question us, love?"

You're forced to lean into him. A haughty scowl flashes across your face, but you smooth it back into cold, professional disdain. "No."

"That’s right. You’re not." His voice is a low, gruff rasp as he uses the leash to yank you closer against his solid body. "You’re not in any position to do anything except what you’re told, yeah? You got a problem with that?"

"No. Not one."

"Good." He smirks, his eyes running over you appraisingly. "Now, get on your knees."

You do as he says.

Gaz and Soap observe you and Ghost, stances relaxed and eyes sharp as knives.

"Look at that," Soap murmurs to Gaz. "She's already trained."

⬇ nsfw, dom/sub dynamics, free use, objectification, toxic polyamory

You cut a sideways glare at Soap out of the corner of your eye, but Ghost's fingers are still hooked into your o-ring. He forces you to look back up at him.

"Eyes on me," he growls. "You don't look at my boys without my permission, understood?" His cold voice is as soft as a knife sliding between your ribs, and he gives the steel o-ring a sharp, warning tug. "Or are you gonna be a handful this time?"

You stare up at him. You're aching, mind exhausted, body wired with too much energy. Restless. "Haven't decided," you tell him, voice low.

He likes it when you’re bratty. "Careful, love. You know the consequences for disobedience." You feel his hand thread into your hair, tugging it just a bit, forcing you to arch back against his grip. "If you’re gonna get smart with me, I'll gag that pretty mouth."

You shift, pulse speeding up. "Promise?"

Ghost's eyes darken. "Open."

You open your mouth just in time for him to grip your hair and slide his cock down your throat.

He keeps a tight hold, controlling you as you take him in. "That's right. Just like I trained you."

Soap can’t help but let out a soft groan of approval. His jaw is already tight from watching Ghost dominate you. You’re a pretty sight on your knees, even with your eyes turned away from him, even with the stab of jealousy in his gut. But you look so good like this Soap would watch you gag on anyone. Ghost isn't the worst option, anyway. Not when Soap knows you're still gonna be thinking about him.

But then Ghost starts rocking against your mouth, and Soap makes a soft, ragged sound, the sound of a man struggling to keep himself in check. "I want a go," he tells Ghost.

"No. Sit down."

Soap sulks, but obeys. With a grunt, he drops back onto the bed to watch. His pants are tight--he grips a fistful of fabric on each thigh in an attempt to keep himself occupied--but he won’t touch you until Ghost gives him permission.

His blue eyes smolder. He wants you. But Ghost is possessive about you, and Soap knows he has to follow his lead. He knows better than to go against a direct order.

Gaz smirks. He, too, knows better than to stir up conflict. He also knows better than to tease Soap right now.

"Gaz," Ghost says.

Gaz snaps to attention. "Sir."

"Bring the leather cuffs."

"Rog'."

Ghost's eyes never leave you as Gaz retrieves the leather cuffs from a duffel. They're soft with wear, but strong enough to withstand whatever bratting you intend to do. Strong enough to withstand the punishment, too.

"On her," Ghost orders Gaz, nodding toward your hands.

They're resting on Ghost's thighs as you continue working him in and out of your throat. You're hardly paying attention to their conversation until Gaz pulls your arms behind your back instead. You pull your arms away, gripping the back of Ghost's knee with one and slotting the other between your legs. You're not in the habit of making yourself easy to work with.

"What did I say, love?" Ghost's words are a low, warning growl. "Keep testing my patience. Give me a reason." He punctuates his words with a sharp, firm tug on your hair. "You want me to show you what happens when you misbehave?"

Gaz smirks, watching you lean away from him and into Ghost. He runs his fingertips down your arm, letting his hand travel between your legs to join yours. He grips it hard, pushing your greedy fingertips against your bare folds.

"Easy, doc," he mutters. "Nice 'n easy, yeah?"

You choke out a groan around Ghost, vision blurring at the rough handling. Your hips twitch forward. You need more.

And you feel Johnny's eyes on you, burning to be where Gaz is. So close to you.

Soap's body is taut, stretched far too tight, gripping his pant legs the way he's dying to get a grip on you. He can’t look away.

"Gaz," Ghost says, his eyes on Soap. "Don't be too rough. We don't want to break our toy again."

"Yeah, I remember," Gaz says with a smirk. He watches you grind against his fingers intertwined with yours, working on Ghost all the while. "Still. She looks like she can take a little bit of roughing up."

"Fuck off," Soap mutters.

"Careful, MacTavish," Gaz replies, cool as ever. "Jealousy’s not a good look on you."

"I get my turn," Soap snaps. "We've been over this."

"You get your turn with the medic when you learn to treat her nicer. Gaz," Ghost grunts, "that’s enough. Give her a second to breathe, and then get her wrists in those cuffs."

Ghost hooks his fingers through your collar again and pulls you away. You slide off him with a frustrated groan, fighting his grip. "Simon--"

"Greedy slut." He runs his palm down your cheek, possessive. He can feel how wound up you are right now, how much you want to play. He knows you need to be owned. "Pushing your limits won't get you rougher treatment. Not tonight. We're doing things how I want. You understand?" He gives your leash a sharp tug. "You're my medic. You do what I say."

You suppress an angry sigh, gulping in air instead as he strokes your face. The gesture is sweet, almost tender, and you don't want that. You want pain. You want tears. You want to be hollowed out and forget who you are.

"Fuck you." You let your head loll to the side and look over at the bed, leveling your heated gaze at Soap. "I want Johnny to touch me."

Soap's gaze glows with heat when you lock eyes with him. He hears you say his name, sees those pretty lips wrap around the syllables. The desire in his eyes is enough to make you shiver.

"Eyes on me." Ghost grips your face, forcing your traitorous eyes back to him. "You’re not getting him. He's not as gentle with you as I am. You know what happened last time."

"I like how he hurts me," you mutter. Shame prickles down your throat.

"Don't say that." A possessive edge sharpens his tone. He's not going to let Soap have you. "You want me to give you more. You don't want to be hurt. Soap is too rough."

You stare up into Ghost's face, naked as you are except for the collar and the cuffs as Gaz finishes securing them. But your gaze is cold and serious. You've never lied to Ghost before. Why would you start now?

He holds your gaze. You pretend at rebellion, but it's a ploy. You're already wet and malleable; you're still aching to wrap your lips around his cock again.

Still. He doesn't like when you get stubborn like this. Doesn't like being wrong. Doesn't like the thought of not satisfying you as much as Soap does. You should know he can give you the pain you need. He knows your limits; Soap doesn't. He can't give you to him. Not when Soap has demonstrated how little he's willing to control himself with you.

"That so?" Ghost's voice is a low snarl. "I’m sure Johnny wants that too." He glances back over at Soap, who's starting to look uneasy. "Looks like he's already trying to imagine it. Should we give him a better view, love?"

"Si--!"

Before his name can leave your mouth, Ghost is wrenching you up and forward, bending you over the dingy hotel room's countertop. He pulls the leash taut and winds the end several times around your leather wrist cuffs to force your back to arch.

Gaz smirks to himself, watching you arch against Ghost's grip. He sits on the bed, eyes on you as you struggle against his Lieutenant.

Soap has to lean forward from his position on the bed, jaw tight, eyes glittering as he drinks in the sight. Ghost grabs your ass and spreads you apart to make sure Soap can see.

"You think he's entitled to your body," Ghost growls, lining his cock up with your weeping slit and prodding his thumb cruelly hard against your asshole. "Fine. I'll show you both what happens to broken toys."

...

more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / more free use medic / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[dixons-sunshine]

hii, i just saw a post with a few daryl headcanons, and one of them were about how attentive he would be his partner in general (like her mannerisms or habits), and i think he would really pay attention to some really specific things about her and everyone including reader would be like ¿¿¿¿¿, 😂so i was just thinking if maybe you could write something about that? i love your writtings!!

Observe | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Daryl Dixon is an extremely observant guy. He notices things that people normally wouldn't pick up on. That didn't change when the two of you got together. In fact, it increased by a tenfold.

Or, four different scenarios where the archer shows he knows more about you than you think.

Genre: Fluff, smut.

Era: Prison, season 4; Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, oral (f receiving), mentions of unprotected p in v.

Word count: 1.8k.

A/n: I'm so close to being done with a young!Daryl fic, but my mind is struggling to work towards the ending, so I wrote this instead. By the way, I suck at writing smut, so I'm so sorry if it's bad. However, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Zach, please, I beg of you, just shut up,” you laughed, settling back against the passenger seat of the car with your legs propped up on the dashboard.

The eighteen year old laughed at you, propping his head up against your seat. “Come on, one more.”

“Zach, don't,” you warned him, sending him a mocking glare.

Daryl watched the interaction in amusement. The run the three of you had gone on went relatively smoothly, and the teenager had taken it upon himself to celebrate the victory by reading jokes from a book he had found, albeit they were rather terrible. However, even he had to admit that the horribleness of the jokes made them rather funny, and Zach used that to his advantage.

“What did one toilet say to the other?” Zach asked, laughing at the joke from his book.

“Zach—” you started warningly, but Zach cut you off.

“You appear to be a bit flushed!” Zach finished, laughing loudly at the lame joke.

You let out an audible groan, rolling your eyes at him. However, Daryl could instantly tell that you did find the joke rather funny. The subtle changes in your facial expression gave it all away.

“That was terrible,” you told him with a shake of your head, folding your arms over your chest.

“You thought it was funny, though,” Zach pointed out, flipping to the next page in the book.

“Do you see me laughing?”

“Nah, but tha' ain't necessary,” Daryl piped in, talking for the first time since Zach had started his onslaught of terrible jokes. “Ya did find it funny. Yer nose slightly scrunches when ya think somethin' is amusin'. And yer eyes crinkle at the corners, too. Plus ya mouth slightly twitches up into a smile before disappearin'.”

The car got immensely silent after that. The only sound that could be heard was the rumble of the engine as the car descended back towards the prison. You were staring at Daryl in surprise, but he could see the way your mouth slightly twitched up into a small smile. It made Daryl's face heat up, and he ducked his head.

“Well,” Zach started, clearing his throat and shutting the book again. “Aren't you just an observant lover, Daryl?”

“Shut up, kid,” Daryl mumbled, his knuckles tightening around the steering wheel.

“No, it's cute! Who would've thought that a guy like you would pick up on something like that? You know, Beth—”

As Zach yammered on, Daryl's eyes drifted back to you. You were holding your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them, but your head was turned towards him. You were staring at him with a lovesick smile, and he felt his heart start pounding against his ribcage. He wished that he could just reach out and hold one of your hands in his own. However, he wasn't big on public displays of affection, and Zach would tease him relentlessly if he did so in the teenager's presence, so he opted instead to send you a small smile.

Luckily, later that night when you were both on watch duty, he could hold you in his arms to his heart's content.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“I'm telling you, that Spencer guy is such a fucking jerk,” you started, walking into your Alexandrian home with Daryl, Michonne and Rick hot om your tail.

Rick nodded in agreement. “Yeah. He is a real asshole. I don't know how the people here put up with him.”

Michonne practically flopped herself down on the couch, kicking off her boots that came clad with the constable uniform. “He's Deanna's son. He's practically royalty here. That means he's untouchable.”

Rick was eyeing the loveseat couch, ready to fall down and just relax, but Daryl's hand gripping his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. Rick sent the archer a confused look, but Daryl wasn't even watching the former sherrif—he was watching you. Rick followed his gaze and saw you sit on the couch, bringing your legs up to rest on the plush seat. You leaned your back against the back of the couch as you listened to Michonne talk about her day, adding your own comments every now and again.

“She's been doin' tha' everyday since we got here,” Daryl offered a quiet explanation when Rick sent him another look. “She rarely sits on any couch 'sides tha' one. Tha's her favourite spot.”

“Did she tell you that?” Rick asked, glancing in your direction.

“Nah,” Daryl replied, shaking his head. “I can see it on her face every time she has to sit on any other couch. She prefers the loveseat.”

Rick sent the archer a teasing smile, lightly patting him on the shoulder. “I didn't even notice that. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you did, though. When you're not hunting or going on runs, you're watching her. It's really cute.”

Daryl scoffed and shrugged the man's hand from his shoulder. “I dun' always watch her. S'jus' somethin' I picked up on. Ain't gotta read into it or anythin'.”

“You don't need to be ashamed of admitting you know little things about the person you love, Daryl,” Rick assured him, giving him another light pat on the back. “Knowing things like that just shows that you care.”

Daryl looked back over at you again, your melodic laughter filling the air when Michonne said something funny. Daryl could feel his heart swell with love, and he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

Rick chuckled and nudged Daryl. “C'mon, you lovestruck fool. Let's relax.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Daryl walked back into the community, a slight skip in his step, something extremely uncommon for the otherwise serious archer. He had a string of rabbits over his shoulder, and he couldn't wait to skin them and make some stew with them for you. From all of the animals he's ever brought back from his hunts, he had noticed that you seemed to have a huge liking for rabbit. Today he had managed to find a few rabbits, and he intended to surprise you.

When he got to the porch of the house, he sat down in his usual spot and began the skinning process. His hands made quick work of skinning his kills, and in no time at all, he was done. When he was sure that he had cleaned up the blood to ensure that Carol didn't bite his head off again for messing up the porch, he made his way inside and into the kitchen.

However, Daryl stopped in his tracks when he saw you already in the kitchen.

Perking up when you saw your partner, you sent him a smile. “Hey, Dar! You're back.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah, uh... Wasn't much to find out there 'cept, uh, rabbit.”

Daryl's lips twitched up into a small smile when he saw how you visibly perked up at the mere mention of something you enjoyed. He admired the way a smile lit up your face, your eyes crinkling slightly.

“Rabbit?”

“Yeah,” Daryl confirmed, holding up the skinned animal. “Wanted to surprise ya with some rabbit stew. S'why I came home earlier. But yer already home and stuff, so tha' kinda fell through the rug.”

You stepped forward and embraced the man in a hug, and Daryl returned it after a few moments, careful to keep the meat away from you. He felt the way you nuzzled your face against his chest, and he smiled.

“It doesn't matter. Thank you anyways,” you told him, withdrawing from the hug. “How about you bring that and we'll make some rabbit stew together?”

Daryl nodded. “Alrigh'. Sounds like a good plan to me.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Daryl, oh my god!” Your moans filled the room, your back arching off the bed as you tightly gripped onto Daryl's hair.

Daryl hummed against your core as his tongue licked another stripe from your clit down to your entrance, matching the pace of his fingers that were thrusting into you. His mouth latched onto your clit and started sucking, successfully coaxing moans from you that were downright sinful. Your grip on his hair tightened as you practically shoved his head deeper against you.

After a few moments, your grip on his hair loosened. You instead opted to grip onto the sheets beneath you, your hands clenching into fists before unclenching again, the only sounds from you being garbled words that Daryl couldn't understand and high-pitched moans. Daryl smirked against your pussy, and started speeding up the pace.

Daryl knew those signs meant that you were close to unraveling. Whether he was eating you out like a starved man or he was stuffed deep inside of you, it didn't matter. You always did that when the coil in your stomach was close to snapping. It's something that didn't even register in your mind, the haze of pleasure evaporating any and all thoughts from your head.

Not too long after, you finally came undone. Daryl didn't ease up, licking up every drop that came gushing from your core. When he was done, he lifted his head, and you could see the way your slick was dripping from his face. You couldn't see the blues of his eyes anymore, his pupils blown wide with lust.

Daryl clambered upwards and caught your lips in a passionate kiss. You moaned at the taste of you in his mouth and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your nails lightly digging into his skin. Daryl smirked against your lips, before pulling away and gazing into your eyes.

“Think ya can handle another one, sunshine?”

You didn't give him a verbal response, but Daryl didn't need one. The way you licked your lips and tightened your hold against him was enough. He leaned down for another quick kiss before quickly making work of removing his pants, not missing the way your eyes followed his hands as they freed his cock from his jeans. He also didn't miss the way you swallowed deeply.

“Dun' worry, peach,” Daryl voiced, finally removing his jeans and rejoining you on the bed again. “I know what ya need. I can see it.”

Yeah, it was safe to say that Daryl Dixon was the most observant guy ever.

[angelfic]

Heyyy

I don't know if your still doing this but if you are, I would LOVE a Mattheo Riddle, mutual pining, prompt 1. Love you so much.

ask and you shall receive😚💌

mattheo riddle x reader + mutual pining + “who did this to you?”

➺ part of my 2k milestone writing game

The castle is silent when you make your way to the Astronomy tower. Over the last week, you’ve figured out the best possible route to get there after curfew without bumping into Peeves or the Baron while avoiding any particularly loud portraits.

Ever since Hermione started pacing around the dorm while knitting, the Muffliato charm has been rendered useless and the clicking of the needles has driven you crazy. Combined with Fred and George’s experiments in the common room until early hours of the morning, the Astronomy tower is the only place you can get a moment’s peace.

Your footsteps into the tower become hesitant though, when you spot a wisp of smoke coming from behind one of the pillars. After taking a few tentative steps further, you realise with a jolt that it’s none other than Mattheo Riddle sat there, cigarette loosely held between his fingers. You recognise him from the barely visible angle pretty quickly, owing to the fact you’ve found yourself staring at him from afar more times than you’d care to admit.

He doesn’t turn around, flicking at his cigarette and when you shuffle, making a noise, he lets his head fall back to rest against the pillar. “Enzo, if you’re here to pester me again, you can fuck off.”

“Er, not Lorenzo,” you reply, voice quiet in the echoing tower. Mattheo sits up straight immediately, twisting around to look at you with wide eyes. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine,” he says quickly, giving you a hint of a smile. He nods over to a spot near him. “You can come sit if you want.”

You contemplate politely refusing since you probably won’t get any work done with Mattheo right in front of you, but another glance at him has your feet moving of their own accord.

Once he comes into full view, you notice in the moonlight that Mattheo’s nose shows the remnants of dried blood, there’s a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone and his knuckles are split open. It isn’t an unusual sight and you’ve often seen him around the castle either in the middle of a fight or with cuts and bruises as a result of one, yet you still find yourself staring.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow and smirks, despite the cut on his lip. “What, have I got something on my face?”

You blink, silent for a couple beats before clearing your throat. “Who, uhm, who did… this… to you?”

He shrugs, bringing the cigarette back to his lips to inhale. “Some Ravenclaw prick this morning.”

“How come you haven’t healed yourself?” you ask, tilting your head in curiosity. “You normally do by this point.”

Mattheo’s lips quirk up in sort of a pleased smile, his eyes crinkling. “You pay attention to me, do you?”

“No, I- It’s just,” you stammer, fiddling with the corner of your planner and avoiding his gaze. You most definitely do pay attention to him, but you’d much rather jump off the Astronomy tower than admit to it. “You’re always getting into fights. It’s kind of hard not to.”

It isn’t clear if he believes you or not, since his face still displays an unwavering smile, but he nods slowly before answering your previous question. “Enzo usually does it. The healing spells.”

You consider this and hesitate for a few seconds, biting your bottom lip in nervous habit before abruptly standing up and walking over to the Slytherin. Plopping down next to him, you take your wand out of your pocket, which he eyes warily.

“I know some healing spells,” you explain. Raising your eyebrows in question, you point your wand at his face and wait for his consent, which he gives in the form of a nod. Starting with his lip, you mutter “Episkey.” The cut seals itself up, so you do the same with his knuckles before using ‘Tergeo’ to siphon off the dried blood around his hands and nose.

“Back to looking flawless?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you choke out a laugh, surprised at how relaxed he’s being with you. Mattheo isn’t as brooding as the rest of his friends, but he certainly isn’t all sunshine and giggles with people he isn’t close with. And it’s not like the two of you have ever conversed before, so you’re a little more than puzzled. Not that you’re complaining. “What’s had you so exhausted this week?”

“Hermione’s been staying up knitting and I can’t sleep through it like the others,” you sigh, moving back to sit against the pillar like Mattheo is. This is your first night coming to the Astronomy Tower though, so you furrow your brows and turn to Mattheo to tell him exactly that. “How do you-”

“You’ve been nodding off at breakfast,” he says, matter-of-fact. You don’t know how to respond, opening your mouth but not having anything to say. Mattheo notices your loss for words and swallows, suddenly sheepish. The tips of his ears have turned a light pink and he shuffles, making your shoulders touch slightly. “I pay attention to you too.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, heart about to burst out of your chest. You look down to where his hand is on the floor next to yours and in a brave move, you move your own so your pinkies are touching.

Mattheo is silent when he interlocks your fingers, meeting your eyes. His smile reappears, one that feels reserved for you. You’ve never seen him look more gentle before, and when he finally reaches over to kiss you in the quiet, moonlit tower surrounded by the stars, you begin wishing you’d started losing sleep weeks ago.

[kcyars99]

omg

[Verse 1]

Dear Adonis

I'm sorry that that man is your father, let me be honest

It takes a man to be a man, your dad is not responsive

I look at him and wish your grandpa woulda wore a condom

I'm sorry that you gotta grow up and then stand behind him

Life is hard, I know, the challenge is always gon' beat us home

Sometimes our parents make mistakes that affect us until we grown

And you're a good kid that need good leadership

Let me be your mentor since your daddy don't teach you shit

Never let a man piss on your leg, son

Either you die right there or pop that man in the head, son

Never fall in the escort business, that's bad religion

Please remember, you could be a bitch even if you got bitches

Never code-switch, whether right or wrong, you a Black man

Even if it don't benefit your goals, do some push-ups, get some discipline

Don't cut them corners like your daddy did, fuck what Ozempic did

Don't pay to play with them Brazilians, get a gym membership

Understand, no throwin' rocks and hidin' hands, that's law

Don't be ashamed 'bout who you wit', that's how he treat your moms

Don't have a kid to hide a kid to hide again, be sure

Five percent will comprehend, but ninety-five is lost

Be proud of who you are, your strength come from within

Lotta superstars that's real, but your daddy ain't one of them

And you nothing like him, you'll carry yourself as king

Can't understand me right now? Just play this when you eighteen

[Verse 2]

Dear Sandra

Your son got some habits, I hope you don't undermine them

Especially with all the girls that's hurt inside this climate

You a woman, so you know how it feels to be in alignment

With emotion, hopin' a man can see you and not be blinded

Dear Dennis, you gave birth to a master manipulator

Even usin' you to prove who he is is a huge favor

I think you should ask for more paper, and more paper

And more, uh, more paper

I'm blamin' you for all his gamblin' addictions

Psychopath intuition, the man that like to play victim

You raised a horrible fuckin' person, the nerve of you, Dennis

Sandra, sit down, what I'm about to say is heavy, now listen

Mm-mm, your son's a sick man with sick thoughts, I think niggas like him should die

Him and Weinstein should get fucked up in a cell for the rest they life

He hates Black women, hypersexualizes 'em with kinks of a nympho fetish

Grew facial hair because he understood bein' a beard just fit him better

He got sex offenders on ho-VO that he keep on a monthly allowance

A child should never be compromised and he keepin' his child around them

And we gotta raise our daughters knowin' there's predators like him lurkin'

Fuck a rap battle, he should die so all of these women can live with a purpose

I been in this industry twelve years, I'ma tell y'all one lil' secret

It's some weird shit goin' on and some of these artists be here to police it

They be streamlinin' victims all inside of they home and callin' 'em Tinder

Then leak videos of themselves to further push their agendas

To any woman that be playin' his music, know that you're playin' your sister

Or better, you're sellin' your niece, to the weirdos, not the good ones

Katt Williams said, "Get you the truth," so I'ma get mines

The Embassy 'bout to get raided, too, it's only a matter of time

Ayy, LeBron, keep the family away, hey, Curry, keep the family away

To anybody that embody the love for they kids, keep the family away

They lookin' at you too if you standin' by him, keep the family away

I'm lookin' to shoot through any pervert that lives, keep the family safe

[Verse 3]

Dear baby girl

I'm sorry that your father not active inside your world

He don't commit to much but his music, yeah, that's for sure

He a narcissist, misogynist, livin' inside his songs

Try destroy families rather than takin' care of his own

Should be teachin' you time tables or watchin' Frozen with you

Or at your eleventh birthday, singin' poems with you

Instead, he be in Turks, payin' for sex and poppin' Percs, examples that you don't deserve

I wanna tell you that you're loved, you're brave, you're kind

You got a gift to change the world, and could change your father's mind

'Cause our children is the future, but he lives inside confusion

Money's always been illusion, but that's the life he's used to

His father prolly didn't claim him neither

History do repeats itself, sometimes it don't need a reason

But I would like to say it's not your fault that he's hidin' another child

Give him grace, this the reason I made Mr. Morale

So our babies like you can cope later

Give you some confidence to go through somethin', it's hope later

I never wanna hear you chase a man 'cause his failed behavior

Sittin' in the club with sugar daddies for validation

You need to know that love is eternity and trumps all pain

I'll tell you who your father is, just play this song when it rains

Yes, he's a hitmaker, songwriter, superstar, right

And a fuckin' deadbeat that should never say "more life"

Meet the Grahams

[Verse 4]

Dear Aubrey

I know you probably thinkin' I wanted to crash your party

But truthfully, I don't have a hatin' bone in my body

This supposed to be a good exhibition within the game

But you fucked up the moment you called out my family's name

Why you had to stoop so low to discredit some decent people?

Guess integrity is lost when the metaphors doesn't reach you

And I like to understand 'cause your house was never a home

Thirty-seven, but you showin' up as a seven-year-old

You got gamblin' problems, drinkin' problems, pill-poppin' and spendin' problems

Bad with money, whorehouse

Solicitin' women problems, therapy's a lovely start

But I suggest some ayahuasca, strip the ego from the bottom

I try to empathize with you 'cause I know that you ain't been through nothin'

Crave entitlement, but wanna be liked so bad that it's puzzlin'

No dominance, let's recap moments when you didn't fit in

No secret handshakes with your friend

No cultural cachet to binge, just disrespectin' your mother

Identity's on the fence, don't know which family will love ya

The skin that you livin' in is compromised in personas

Can't channel your masculine even when standin' next to a woman

You a body shamer, you gon' hide them baby mamas, ain't ya?

You embarrassed of 'em, that's not right, that ain't how mama raised us

Take that mask off, I wanna see what's under them achievements

Why believe you? You never gave us nothin' to believe in

'Cause you lied about religious views, you lied about your surgery

You lied about your accent and your past tense, all is perjury

You lied about your ghostwriters, you lied about your crew members

They all pussy, you lied on 'em, I know they all got you in 'em

You lied about your son, you lied about your daughter, huh

You lied about them other kids that's out there hopin' that you come

You lied about the only artist that can offer you some help

Fuck a rap battle, this a long life battle with yourself

Yeah Drake is done ATP just hang it up dude you’re better off doing mainstream pop rap or something

[adder24]

Vigilante

Pairing: Female Reader X John Nolan

Rating: R cause my god I did things i didn't think I could write, holy shit. Authors note: Okay I think I am getting the hang of writing utter filth, it's been a while so bit rusty but hey...enjoy. Summary: You're the new vigilante in town, taking the law into your own hands and doing the work of the local law enforcement. You always manage to avoid getting caught, until one night you cross paths with John Nolan.

Tagging: @untilthe12ofnever @captkatecastle @nuggsmum @alwayscaskett810 @hellostickerdoodle @nikki-rook @izhunny @imwithyoualways @superlc529 @happiness-in-the-dark @my-happy-corner @idiotdotdotdot @moviesaremylife @dilfbatch

Please do tag on, reblog, do what you must!!! Story below the cut and can be found here

Being a Vigilante was your choice, you were a victim to a crime that went unpunished, Law enforcement couldn’t find enough evidence to put the criminal in handcuffs and allowed them to walk free. You felt betrayed by the law that was designed to protect you, the victim, which led you down the path of being what you are now. 

You made sure that Karma was paid back to the criminal who made you a victim but you got the taste for it, the satisfaction from making sure a crime committed was dealt with swiftly and fairly. You never killed anyone, you only knocked them out or disabled them temporarily, long enough to hand deliver them to the police with a note that said “Another job done for you”

You dress up, wearing a skull mask to protect your identity, black beanie, Black cargo pants, T-shirt and a tactical vest filled with all the tricks of the trade.

You had your supporters and you had those who stood against you, determined to bring you in and make you pay for the crimes you committed in your pursuit to deliver justice fairly. Sure, you had a few close shaves but you always found a way to wriggle out of it but not tonight, tonight you slipped up, cornered as you chased down a petty criminal who snatched bags to fuel a habit.  Of all the criminals to slip up on, it had to be one that did a basic crime. You followed them down a dead end alley, knocked them out, took the bag back from them and got caught red handed by a cop.

“Put your hands above your head and face me. Slowly!” You hear him bark

You roll your eyes and slowly turn to face him, half expecting it to be some old crotechy officer close to retirement but what you got was a middle aged man over six foot in height, well built and easy on the eyes. He had an authoritative stance and a stern look on his face, clearly not in the mood for any shenanigans.

“When will you wannabe heroes learn not to take the law into your own hands?” He growled as he slowly approached you “Get on your knees”

“You say that to all the ladies you meet?” You ask sarcastically.

“Only the ones breaking the law” He replied as he approached, slowly releasing the handcuffs from their holder, gun still trained on you.

You were compliant, allowing him to grab your hands and put them behind your back before he helped you to your feet. You got a good look at him, mousy brown hair, blue eyes, strong jaw, firm grip and a little authority about him. It was a bit of a turn on, a man that was able to take charge and manhandle you in the right ways and you could sense this one could take charge in bed, just by the way he guided you to the car and the hold he had on you.

He got the door and eased you into the back of his Patrol car, an SUV of some description, one that had plenty of room in the back and was quite comfortable considering.

“The Illusive Skull Face, finally in the back of my truck” You hear him say as he starts the engine. “Wasn’t expecting you to be a woman though”

“Women can’t be badasses?” You ask him as you quietly work on undoing the cuffs, retrieving the small pin you had hidden in your gloves

“Of course they can, you’ve seen the women I have to work with right? They’d kick my ass” He says, keeping his eyes on the road.

You smile as you wiggle the pin in the lock, getting a quiet little click to signify their release, you keep them on your wrists for the time being while you work on an escape and your only viable solution was to feign travel sickness, knowing he would need to pull over to the side of the road or endure the stench of vomit in the back of the truck for the duration of the journey.

"Hey…you think you could pull over, I'm not feeling so good" You groan, feigning the sickness as best you can.

"Skull face is a little travel sick? That's a new one for me" He says.

"What's your name?" You ask him.

"Officer Nolan. What's yours skull face?" Nolan replied

"Skull Face. You want your car to reek of Vomit?" You ask him as you slump a little.

"Not really no," Nolan replied calmly.

"Then pull over and let me throw up" You demand as you begin to fake heave.

The action caused Nolan to drastically pull over his patrol car, near an abandoned warehouse. This was your chance to make a run for it, escape the clutches of the law and continue to do the job they can't. You waited for him to open the door, for him to help you out before you made your move.

You dropped the cuffs and made a run for it, sprinting towards the warehouse, aware he would follow. You manage to climb the wire fence and jump down on the opposite side, landing a little awkwardly but managing to get back on your feet again. Nolan in hot pursuit as he made light work of the fence. 

You keep running, trying to make decisions on the fly but not paying attention to your surroundings cost you, you don’t notice the discarded pole on the floor and consequently you trip over it, landing face first on the hard floor. Thankfully the mask takes the brunt but before you know it, Nolan took his chance, pouncing on you to stop you getting away. 

You end up wrestling with him,rolling onto your back to help you flip him, rolling him to the ground putting you on top and a chance to run, but he was quick, as soon as you got him down he had grabbed you and switched positions, wrestling with you to get you back in the cuffs but you was having none of it, you fought with him, wrestled for some time, you even managed to somehow turn off his body camera before he eventually had you pinned. He managed to remove your mask during the tussle and this was the first time he got to see you unmasked

He paused as he studied you, taking a mental photo of you. You should have used that moment to slip away, avoid getting caught but that wasn't what you wanted. The struggle had got you worked up, his firm hold stoking the fire in your stomach, causing you to bite your bottom lip as you studied him, liking the fact he was in a commanding position and you sensed there was a little heat in that gaze he held with you.

"Your move officer" you say invitingly 

A smirk spread across his lips before he leaned down and kissed you tenderly, his lips gently brushing against your own. You reciprocate the kiss, your hands snaking along his arms and up his shoulders while your lips fight for dominance. The kiss becomes more heated and it’s not long before you submit and part your lips, allowing his tongue to enter, tasting you and dancing with your tongue, causing small little moans to fall from your lips. You feel calloused fingers gently caress your cheek before he breaks off the kiss and puts his forehead to yours.

“I shouldn’t really be doing this” He whispered  as he ran his thumb along your jaw 

“I won’t tell and no one is going to know…managed to turn off your body cam” You purr as you start to unbutton a few buttons on his shirt “It can be our thing”

You feel him claim your lips once more, slipping in some tongue as his kiss becomes more heated, driven by a want and a need to punish you by other means. He breaks off the kiss and gets to his feet, pulling you up from the ground and leading you back to the car, looking around to see if anyone was watching but thankfully the location was quiet, no one walking around and there were hardly any cars driving by. It was a perfect spot.

He puts on a bit of a show just in case, making it look like he had arrested you and was putting you in the back before he then walked round to the other side and joined you in the back, closing the door behind him. You slide across the seats towards him and straddle his lap, your hands getting back to work on his shirt, making light work at unfastening the remaining buttons. You feel his hands slip under your top, his fingers tip toeing, slowly along your sides, reaching for your bra strap, grumbling when he realises you have one of them fiddly sports bras on, his reaction causing you to giggle a little.

“Need me to undo it?” You ask him playfully

“No…just tell me what it is, is it a zip at the front or Zip and hooks?” He asks huskily as he pushes your top up,studying the black sports bra that you have on underneath.

“It’s a zip and hooks” You reply as you remove your top and throw it on the seats next to you.

You feel him get to work, his fingers making light work of unfastening your bra, freeing your breasts from their material cage, He gently kisses down your cleavage, before his fingers start to gently tease and caress your hardened nipples. Your breath hitches in your throat, you can feel your nerves spark and spring into life, making you more responsive to his touch as you start to feel the bulge in his pants grow and become more hardened. You bite your lip and smirk a little.

“Officer Nolan, is that your Baton in your pants?” You ask playfully

“You wanna find out?” He asks in a seductive manner, guiding your hands down to his gun belt You grin and slowly unfasten his belt, carefully moving it to one side before you then unfasten his work pants, slowly pulling them down along with his boxers, giving you a good look at his impressive package in all its glory. You lick your lips in anticipation as you run your hands slowly along his inner thighs, pushing yourself between his legs, placing his hardened manhood in between your breasts. You then bend down and gently suck and lick the tip, giving you a taste of him while one of your hands works his shaft. It’s like music to your ears as you hear the little grunts and moans tumble from his mouth, his fingers running through your hair, tugging it a little, urging you to keep going.

You get him riled up, bringing the teasing to a halt, causing him to crave more from you. You run your hands over his toned body, feeling his skin erupt with goosebumps as he hums deep in his throat. You then start undoing your trousers, fumbling a little as you pull them off, somehow managing to remove them without taking off your boots, a skill that seemingly impressed Nolan before you straddle him once more, positioning yourself carefully as you kiss him deeply, letting your tongues dance before you lower yourself down, allowing him to enter, your silkened walls stretching to his size.

You let out a tiny gasp as you feel every inch of him inside of you. You feel his hands grip your hips, thumbs doing small circular movements while his long fingers grip your ass cheeks , urging you on. You bite your lip and begin to slowly rock your hips, a euphoric sense of pleasure slowly building as you move up and down his length. You can feel yourself start to clamp around him, drawing him deeper within you. You can feel your sweet nectar slowly begin to trickle from your core as he buries his head between your breasts. You can hear small little grunts fall from his lips as you place your hands on his shoulders using them to help build momentum.

You up your rhythm, pleasure consuming you as you feel him start to move in rhythm with you, the sensation causing you to moan in pleasure as you feel him begin to suck and lick one of your nipples. Your toes curl in ecstasy as you throw your head back, feeling one of his hands move up your spine, supporting you as the other hand gently spanks your ass. You yelp a little, the mix of pain and pleasure sending you into a frenzy.

“More” You pant

This time he spanks you harder, you cry out and then moan in pleasure as your body trembles under his touch. Your body feels electric as you feel yourself beginning to reach your climax, you can feel your juices oozing down his shaft, making it easier to ride his length, your tempo getting faster and faster as you become undone, your orgasm becoming similar to that of an inner, pleasurable explosion, causing you to cry out his name, your sweet nectar soaking him, listening to his loud guttural moans and groans as you become lost in a blissful haze while he rides out his own sexual high,

You have two, maybe three more orgasms after, each one more intense than the last. You’re spent and so is he as you both rest in each others arms, catching your breaths, skin glistening with sweat as you both enjoy the blissful state you are in, basking in the afterglow.

After a while, you find yourself claiming his lips momentarily before you gaze upon him in a seductive manner.

“So officer… Am I still under arrest?” You ask with a purr

“I think you’ve served your punishment.” He pants as he steals a kiss “You’re free to go Skull face”

“What you going to tell your boss?” you ask

“You overpowered me and got away” He says calmly, gently stroking your cheek.

You smile, stealing one more kiss as your carefully dismount him, grabbing your discarded clothes and hastily getting dressed, watching him do the same as you both steal a few more glances. You then open the door and slide out of the car, turning round to look at him, a cheeky grin on your lips

“Hope to bump into you again Officer Nolan, maybe next time you’ll overpower me” You say before giving him a playful wink.

You walk away from the car, confident and slightly cocky before you then disappear into the shadows once more.

[catierambles]

Alternate Instincts Ch.18

Pairing: The Rogue’s Gallery (Geralt, Syverson, Mike, August Walker, Walter Marshall) x Stephanie Daniels (OFC)

Warnings: talks of past severe injury involving surgery and near-death

August sighed as he looked over the information that had been sent to his phone, scrolling through the hospital and accident reports.

“Fuck.” He said, pulling up his contacts and calling Geralt. He felt like they should know, but he didn't feel like repeating himself.

“Hey.” Geralt said when he picked up, “Stephanie and Mike are in the house and I don't feel like seeing Mike's ass.”

“Didn't need to talk to her anyway. I'm putting you on speaker.” He said, backing into a somewhat quiet corner. “Sy, Walter, come here.” They headed over to him, leaning on their pool cues. “I have Geralt.”

“What's up?” Sy asked.

“I had someone look into Stephanie's accident when she was a teen.” August said, “He just sent me the hospital and police reports about it.”

“Why would you do that?” Walter asked and he shrugged.

“Old habits.” August said.

“What did he find?” Geralt asked.

“It was a lot worse than she said. A lot worse.”

“She said she got banged up, lotsa internal bleedin'.” Sy reminded him.

“Markus, her chest was crushed, both lungs collapsed, as well as the lacerated liver that she told you and Geralt about.” August said.

“Shit.” Sy said.

“There was a fault with the passenger airbags, they never deployed.” He said, “Her friend that was driving got off with cuts and scrapes, comparatively.”

“How many times?” Geralt asked, “How many times did she code?”

“Three.” August said, “She coded three times on the operating table. She didn't get one transfusion, she got several, she kept bleeding it out.”

“Fuck.” Geralt said.

“They were going to call it after the third time, but then her heart just started beating on it's own again and her vitals stabilized.” August said and there was a pause.

“The last transfusion.” Walter said and he nodded. “I bet you all a tenner it was wolf blood.”

“It didn't just make it so our wolves recognized her, it saved her life.” He said, “She recovered in record time, the doctors that worked on her called it a miracle in their reports. Hospitals have to track and keep records of where they get blood from, especially if they're used during procedures, just in case the recipient has an adverse reaction. My contact tracked down the last transfusion bag number, got the name of the donor and I cross referenced it with Council records.”

“Wolf?” Sy asked and he nodded.

“An Alpha, runs territory and a pack up in Spokane.” August said, “Donated during a high school blood drive.”

“Well now we know for certain.” Sy said, “Shit, though. We almost lost her before we had her.”

“Let's settle the tab and go home. I need to see her.” Walter said and Sy nodded, heading for the bar to pay the bill.

Stephanie and Mike were in the living room when they got home, their hair wet from a recent shower. Geralt was sitting on the other side of her on the couch, his hand wrapped around her knee, thumb moving back and forth over her skin bared by the shorts.

“Hey.” She said, smiling as she saw them, “Did you guys have fun?” Her smile fell, though, at their serious expressions. “What happened after I left?”

“Nothin', babe.” Sy said, “You're fine.” He pulled her to standing with his hands wrapped around hers, pulling her against his chest. “You're fine.”

“Sy?” She asked, pulling away to look up at him. “Geralt was broody, more than usual, when he came inside, now you guys are looking like someone died. What happened?”

“Nothing, love.” Walter said, coming over to lay his hand on her back. “Just...happy to see you.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Stephanie said.

"You almost died." August said and she looked at him.

"We talking about Jordan?" She asked but he shook his head.

"Your accident." He said, "You almost died. Getting wolf blood saved you, Steph, got your heart beating again. They were going to call it, stop resuscitation efforts, but you came back."

"They told me it had been rough." She said, "But didn't give me details besides what I told you."

"You almost died." He said again.

"It don't matter." Sy said, "It was twenty some years ago, it don't matter. You're here, you're alive, you're safe."

"The past doesn't matter." Mike said, "Just the present."

“Using my own words against me?” She asked, trying to push down the panic rising in her throat.

“Worked for me.” Mike said with a shrug. Geralt pushed up from the couch, pulling her from Sy's arms and into his own, holding her against his chest.

"You're alive." He whispered, tucking his face into her neck.

"You all didn't know me back then." She said, "Mike was in kindergarten."

"Doesn't matter." Geralt said, "I could have lost my Mate before I found her."

"Our Mate." Walter said and Geralt wove his fingers in her hair, tilting her face up to him and kissing her, his eyes closed.

“Your guys' reaction is freaking me out more than anything else.” She said when he pulled away.

“Sorry, doll, it's just...” Sy stopped with a sigh, “We almost lost you. I told you, if you hadn't survived, we wouldn't have a Mate. Our Mate would have been dead before we knew she existed."

“But you did survive.” Mike said, “And we do have a Mate, and I have my Alpha. So the fact that you almost didn't doesn't count.”

“Post-nut clarity?” Sy asked.

“I have transcended.” Mike said and her snort turned into a laugh despite herself. She suddenly gave a squeak of surprise as Geralt ducked quickly, throwing her over his shoulder and heading for the stairs.

“It's bedtime, I guess.” She said.

“Not even gonna fight it?” Sy called after them.

“Nope! Lesson in futility! Goodnight!” They heard his room door close a moment later and Sy snorted, shaking his head.

He smelled like wood smoke still from the fire he had built, his skin warm, his chest hair slightly coarse as he held her. He had kept his boxer briefs on when he got undressed, wanting closeness more than intimacy.

“It really rattled you, didn't it.” She said, looking up at him from her spot on his chest.

“Yes.” He said simply.

“The others, too.”

“Wolves are usually Mike's age when they find their Mate.” He explained, “I came to terms with the idea that I didn't have one a long time ago. I think the others did, too.”

“Then I showed up.” She said and he hummed.

“The fact that I do have one, but she almost died long before I found her. It...” He sighed.

“Almost only counts for horseshoes and hand grenades.” He cracked an eye open, looking down at her with an arched brow. “Something my dad used to say.” She shrugged.

“Used to?” He asked, “When did he...”

“Oh, he's still alive.” Stephanie said, “As far as I know. He and mom got divorced when I was sixteen and Jack was in college. Haven't seen him since.” He just hummed again, his brow furrowed in a scowl. “What?”

“He abandoned his child a year after he almost lost her.”

“I guess he hated mom so much that he didn't like us, either.” She said, “We weren't kids. Jack was almost Mike's age, so it's not like mom could stop him from contacting us. He just never did.” His scowl just deepened. “Geralt, it was almost twenty years ago. The man hasn't been in my life longer than he was, even before they got divorced. He was in the Navy, so he was deployed a lot. Mom didn't feel like following him from base to base, so we always stayed put. I saw him maybe a few months out of the year, got calls on Christmases and birthdays if I was lucky and he remembered.”

“You're his child.”

“He didn't care.” She said and he sighed. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Where's your parents?”

“I don't have any. No Tracker does.” He said it so simply that it made her sit up a little. “Council takes in orphan or unwanted pups and trains them to hunt Ferals.”

“That's—”

“Hunting Ferals is dangerous. Best if there's no one to go home to, or question if they go missing.” He said and looked at her when she held the side of his face, her thumb moving over the high of his cheek.

“You have me.” His hand slid over hers, holding it to his jaw.

“I know.”

[romanestuffsposts]

Can you do a Drabble of mafia stucky x little reader where they have a disorder where she gets low blood pressure spells and she has an episode when they take her to the office? 🥺🥺

Your account makes me feel small and safe ❤️❤️

Hi there! Of course 💜

I had a request like that before my account was delete and I don't know if it was you or not but i did some research on low blood pressure cause I wanted to write things right. I hope I made it okay and it looks like the reality of low blood pressure episodes. I didn't know what it was- no i'm lying. I knew what it was but I never made research on that before so Thank you for my general culture love ❤️

I'm happy that you feel like that about my account. it's to give these feelings that I started on this platform 🥰

Anyways, enjoy lovers <3

*****

Warnings : Low blood pressure episode, blood, scared reader, comfort, doctor, paci, cursing

Pairing : Mafia!Stucky x Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : ⬆️⬆️⬆️

A/N : thank you to be understandable if it is not perfect or not everything is realistic, I did my best with a subject that was unknown to me 💜

****

"Fucking hell" Steve curses under his breath as he rummages through his belongings and returns his office to try to find his folds "Steve watch your language" Bucky warns as he swings you on his hip

"Fucking he-" You start with a big smile at the new words you heard but your Daddy cuts you off with a finger against your lips "No" he shakes his head "that's one of the words you can't say, never. Understood ?" He says sternly

You nod and he moves his finger "what do we say now ?" he asks as he starts to swaying you again "I sowwy Daddy" You says and he shows you his smile making you giggle "Thank you, beautiful" he says kissing your nose

You rest your head on his shoulder and start to play with your Daddy's hair. Bucky turns his attention back to Steve "Can you please tell me what you're looking for ?" As he observes his husband, Bucky grabs your paci who was attached on your shirt and puts it in your mouth. Your Daddies have habits now, they hide the corner of the table when you hide under it and jump out to play so you wouldn't hurt yourself. They check fifthy times if the water of your bath isn't too hot for you without them noticing. Every time they walk around the house and step beside one of your stuffie, they would grab it and travel around the house with it until they rest your stuffie somewhere where you could easily find it. It's little attentions but you sure notice them

"I can't find my folds" Steve groans throwing on the ground the papers he has in his hand. You frown when you notice that you hear badly your Papa talking. Is it because your ear is against your Daddy's shoulder ? Probably. You don't really pay attention to that, it's grown-up problems, none of that for you right now

"what folds ?" Bucky frowns. They were at work all day and were working on important folds but Steve got distracted about a phone call and when he gets back to grab his jacket to go home, he completly forgot his folds at work, in his and Bucky's office. Even if Steve knows he forgot them at work, he still wish he can find them in their office at home.

"The one I have to do for tomorrow. We have an important meeting with investors tomorrow afternoon and I have to read and prepare the folds tonight. If I don't have them, we can't do the meeting and we'll lose a lot of money and I don't think you want to lose that much money" He says talking fast as he keeps throwing the papers away

"Steve you obviously forgot it at work" Bucky rolls his eyes making you giggle. Your Daddy always make funny face when he notices you look at him so you would giggle and he loves hearing those sounds when they come out of your mouth

Right after giggling, your face frowns once again as you barely heard your own sound. You heard your Daddies talking but you felt the exact same thing that you felt when your Papa were talking earlier. You simply shake that feeling away and you concentrate again on your Daddy's hair.

Steve sighs "I clearly don't want to go back to work. We promised her we'll go in the parc today before it's getting too dark. She needs to go out and plays, she needs to move those little legs around and somewhere else than home" Bucky looks at you and sees you still concentrate on his hair. he looks back a Steve "We'll go to the parc, we have times. It will take us twenty minutes to go grab the folds so you'll have what you need and she'll have what she wants" he says caressing your cheek with his finger. You smile looking up at your Daddy's face

"Stop worrying, please. You're going to worry her and then i'll be frustrate and we'll all have a bad evening so let's not do that" Bucky says and Steve snorts "Okay I give in, you win" He sighs getting up from the ground "I'm sorry, i'm what ?" Bucky smirks and Steve laughs pushing his shoulder. The movement of pushing made you move too and you feel a wave of nausea running up your belly

Fortunately for you, before you say something to your Daddies about that, the feeling is gone and you just throw it away, maybe it's the vegetable you eat at dinner. It's never good those things anyways so it's probably that

Your Daddy puts you on the ground and you whimper letting your paci fall from your mouth. You lift your arms back up to be carried by your Daddy but he kneels beside you "I can't carry you all day, baby" he says kissing your nose "you need to exercice your legs before running around the parc" he smiles and you nod trying to hide your pout "Otay, Daddy"

"Thank you, little one" he kisses your temple and stands up. You grab his T-shirt before he walks away making him turn around "Can I twy to put my soes lone, pwease ?" You ask shyly and he nods winking "of course, princess but if you can't do it call us"

"pwomise, Daddy" You say running happily to find your shoes

-----------------------------------------

Your Papa opens your car door and he lifts you up to puts you back on the ground just after. While your Papa closes the door behind you, you rest your hand on the car beside you as a dizziness is erupting in your head. You feel this feeling traveling around your eyes to the back of your throat without forgetting the smallest recesses of your head.

You blink hard as your vision got blurred. You feel your Papa holding your shoulders and pushes you forward so you'll start walking. You whimper and turn around, you look up and lift your arms to your papa who only shake his head "I won't carry you, sweetness. I agree with Daddy, you need to use those little legs of yours" he smiles grabbing your hand "either way they couldn't carry you to the kitchen when you're hungry" he teases and you give in.

You walk beside your Papa, your grip on his hand is tight, you're scared cause you don't see well and you still feel dizzi. The fast steps of your Papa isn't helping you but you know they are in a hurry so you just shut your mouth and go along with the hurry of your Daddie.

Once you three walk inside the big building, Steve hands you at Bucky and he starts to go faster toward the stairs "why Papa didn took the eleva ?" You ask your Daddy

"because he want to be quick so he decides to run up the stairs" he says before frowning and gazes back down at you "but that's not something you can do. You can not run in the stairs, never. Understood ?" You look up at him and nod "Yes Daddy"

He smiles down at you and calls the elevator. He runs his fingers on your hand who is still in his as you both wait the elevator to arrive. You always repeat the sound the elevator does when he warns that he is here. However, you didn't made any sounds this time which confuse your Daddy. He looks down at you as he walks inside, he almost has to drag you in the elevator "baby are you alright ?" he asks looking down at you once the door are close

He clicks on the button of their office's floor and get his attention back down at you "beautiful ?" He kneels before you and his eyes widen when he sees your face "Babydoll, your nose is bleeding" he says shocked as he grabs your cheeks to have a better look of your face

"M not feeling well, daddy" you quietly say as you battle yourself to keep your eyes open. Bucky frowns "where does it hurt, baby ?" he asks. Before you can answer, you feel your body letting you down and the panic inside you is getting bigger. Your Daddy is quick to grab you before you fall on the ground "fucking hell" He curses, he stands up once the door opens and when he turns around to leave the elevator, he sees Steve with the folds in his hands. The smile on his face disappears when he looks at the view infront of him. His blood runs cold and he lets the folds falling on the ground "Buck ?" he rushes inside the elevator "What happened ? Is she hurt ? Did she fell ? What the hell is happening ?!" he says panicking.

"Steve, I don't know what she has but I do know that we need to keep our calm for her. She can't have us panicked. She needs us right now and we'll be there for her" he says trying to calm his husband "Call the doctor and tell him to meet us at home, right now"

------------------------------------------------------------

"how is she ?" Bucky asks finally allowing himself to worry "is it serious ?" Steve asks behind Bucky.

They quickly took you back at home and made sure to keep an eye on you. Steve never left your side in the car, he sat in the back seat so he could have you in his arms the whole time. Bucky kept eyeing the backseat from the mirror in the car to make sure you were fine. He puts all his strengh in his body to stop his hands from shaking

"she had a drop in her blood pressure. That's what caused her nosebleed. It's possible that she had warning signs like dizziness or nausea. She may have felt sick or confused or maybe weak. It's also possible that she didn't feel anything coming and that it happened like that" Doctor Martin says

"What can we do about that ?" Bucky asks "I mean, do we have to get her medications or bringing her to the hospital ? Cause we'll do it if we need to" Bucky says and Steve agrees quickly

‘’Well, no need to go to the hospital just yet, but keep an eye on her. She only has to do it slowly when she is sitting down and about to get up. She should be careful not to get up too quickly when getting out of bed or whenever getting up from a lying position. It's better if she lays down or sits for a long time right after eating." He says looking at your Daddies "She can increase the amount of water she drinks too"

Steve nods "Alright, thank you doctor. We'll take care of her, we promise" Bucky goes back in your room while Steve walks the doctor out of the house

"Hi there, beautiful" Bucky smiles when he sees you turning his head toward him "how are you feeling ?" he asks sitting on the bed beside you "M tiwed and I don know what is happening" You mumble frowning. Your Daddy caresses your forehead "I know, doll. But we're here to make you feel better. It's just a bad moment that we need to get over with" he says kissing her temple

You nod as your Papa walks in the room with a glass of water in his hands. He smiles "I got you something to drink, sweetness" He says sitting on the other side of the bed. You shake your head when he goes to sit you. He stops his movement "you're not thirsty ?"

You shake your head again and he sighs "Okay but you'll drink this glass of water before bedtime" You nod "I pwomise, Papa"

Your Daddy gives you your stuffie and put your paci in your mouth "Let's make it comfy" He whispers and Steve goes soften the light before laying back down beside you

"No pawc ?" You ask and Your Daddies shake their head "No, baby. We'll go to the parc when you'll feel better, we promise" Says your Papa and you nod again trying to not be too sad

"But we're here and we'll go slowly, step by step" Your Daddy says lifting your chin. "And you know what it means ?" You shake your head before gazing up your daddy "It means we'll play a lot together and have a lot of cuddles infront of the tv or during the night until late in the morning" He brings his closer to yours "because we take a break from work to watch you and take care of you" He smiles pocking your nose with his

You smile "weally ?" Your Papa chuckles "yes, sweetie. We won't leave you" You smile bigger

"cuddles now ?" You shyly ask bitting your lips. Steve kisses your cheek as Bucky wraps his arms around you "we'll cuddle you until the end of the world" He whispers kissing your ear

"We love you, our sweet and beautiful baby"

"I love you too, daddies"

[claudy-writes-stuff]

Hii

I would love to read:

Fred Durst x Reader

Jon Davis/KoRn x Reader

Chester Bennington x Reader

Any story would be nice. Maybe enemy or friends to lovers. Thanks already!

Sure thing Anon! Hope you enjoy (if my idea was similar to another creators idea I’m just gonna note rn this isn’t exaclty original but yh)

The Biggest, Stupidest idiot, Fred Durst x Reader, Enemies to Lovers

You got signed to be Limp Bizkit’s manager and also this bus driver thingy for them. You were the one driving the trailer for them whenever they went on tour, the first few days you enjoyed the job and it wasn’t hard. The guys were funny, Well, That’s what you thought, (That’s what she said), They we’re jerks sometimes. Especially Fred, Although it was just some playful pranks and jokes friends and all just playing and not legit, they got on your nerves. Numerous times where you couldn’t even count had Fred and Wes woke you up and tricked you that there was and emergency. As soon as you ran out the door then you’d get milk and feathers All over you, Even Lethal would come in laughing.

Sometimes the jokes or pranks were funny. Sometimes not. Just straight up annoying as fuck

You didn’t even talk to Fred for a few days after that, “Oh come on Y/N talk to me!” “Shut up Fred” was how it was last week. Today they were wanting to hangout at a local bar/Pub to relax and have some fun after their tour as it was kind of draining they were performing Al day, not to mention you’ve definetely been the workaholic these days!, You drove the bus as they were all inside. Fred being the loudest as he nudged Wes with his elbow. None of them really containing their laughter. Before Fred stopped and nudged you now “Atleast were driving and this time we ain’t getting a single scratch from a certain someone!” You shot him a side glare and slapped his hand “Shut up Fred” He only laughed and rubbed his arm. “Ow!” He said, shooting you a look, You rolled your eyes and looked away from him, Even in your contacts you had him named as ‘Annoying guy’ or ‘Jerk’

They didn’t wanna go to the bar instead they decided on going to go to one of their tours. They still didn’t finish them, “Hey Y/N pull over we want some snacks-“ Before John could finish his sentence Wes smacked him on the face. Before they started wrestling and Fred started recording “Yo look at this shit!” They were laughing their asses off. Your eye twitched. Why were they so annoying sometimes? You had already been in a bad mood because of earlier today, As you pulled over at the snack store you all got out the car. As if they were children they ran inside like kids first time seeing a candy store.

Fred wanted to bother you a bit. As you held the cart zoning out you were startled by a lot of things dropping inside at once. It was chocolates- Candies chips and all sorts- “Yo why’s there a apple in here?” Fred peeked in. He saw the apple just plain right sitting in the corner of the cart. It wasn’t even in one of those white small bags. “Who wanna play frisbee?” Wes took the apple and passed it over to the others. You scoffed and grumbled. Snatching the apple away. Making Fred pout, “Food isn’t to be played with, Stop and come on I don’t wanna be here all day!” Fred only nudged you. As you were paying Fred came up behind you wrapping an arm around your shoulders pulling your head and a bit of your body to him and ruffling your hair a lot. “Cut it out!” You snapped. He only held tighter and just whispered back “Nope”,

After what seemed like two years and a half. You arrived at the tour, getting out the car, it didn’t take that long for the band to be swarmed by the crowd and getting autographs. They were all distracted. You were sat in the back, Yet again. A bad habit of yours. Chewing your lip. Lightly blinking as you were in deep thought. A arm wrapped around you from behind, a slurred voice talking “You’ve got- you really looking fine today..You wanna come over to my place?” This wasn’t any of the people you knew, a creep randomly came in through from the crowd. Slowly pulling you behind a wall. You looked at him, panic clear in your eyes, his hand moved to your hip. Grasping it. You looked down. He started groping you, “Please don’t do that. I don’t feel comfortable” You tried to be polite and your eyes darted left and right as you panicked for help. The man seemed angry

He forced himself onto you and whispered “I know you want it. Stop playing hard to get” His breath reeked of alcohol and cigars. Wanting to make you gag, his hand went under your dress (or pants anything you can choose), before he could touch you there a fist connected to his face making you jerk back in fear and yelp. “What the hell is wrong with you? She’s saying no dude she doesn’t like you!” It was Fred. He snapped at the man before punching him again square in the face. Making sure to angle it near the man’s nose. Brisk sing it. Knocking him out cold. The others were trying to pull Fred away, Fred turned to you. His heart sinking into his stomach seeing you shivering in the corner of the wall. Big round tears in your eyes. “Come on Y/N let’s get you inside..” he gently took your hand in his and led you to the trailer or bus. Sitting down next to you, It was silent until you whispered “Thank you” to him, trying to wipe away your tears. He looked down at you. His thumb lightly brushing your cheek and wiping away your tears. His eyes glancing at your lips. “It’s okay, trust me when I say this. I’m sorry for bothering you with those pranks and stuff. I won’t do it again if it annoys you” He was very sincere, soft. And quiet. Unlike how he was so upbeat and loud. He gently took your hands into his and pulled you onto his lap. Taking your chin and making you face him, “I love you, Y/N, Please. But I just didn’t have naughty courage to tell you this” your eyes widened. You couldn’t react as his nose pressed to yours. Gently. His lips pressing on yours before he closed his eyes. His other hand gently stroking your hair back and away from your eyes.

“I love you too”

The band did make sure to take pictures of this moment and tease you and Fred in the future about it.

[booksooks]

"Merry Christmas, Doll."

Author's Note: Posting all of my fics on here too. Or at least the ones I have access to. This was written in 2020, so it's not my best work but... I miss being able to see my writing. I'm aware the banner is cringe. Anyways, enjoy please. 💙

Contents: Mild gore/treating wounds, confessing feelings, probably Dabi being wildly out of character, swearing.

Word Count: 2196

Summary: Dabi isn't around as often as you'd like, but this Christmas, he is.

“Merry Christmas, doll,” purred a rasping voice from behind you. You gasped, waking from your drowsy half-sleep and popping up from the couch with a start, the remote that had been resting in your hand and blanket tumbling to the floor. You rushed towards him, half-tripping over your own feet in your haste to see him.

“Dabi?” You asked, staring at the man who stood in your doorway. “What happened?”

“I got my ass handed to me,” he responded, finally moving forward and out of your living room doorway. “As I said, Merry Christmas.”

He was littered with bruises and cuts, his shirt a bloody brown and crusted over. He limped with every step, wincing as his torso shifted, and his shirt, sticky with blood, pulled at the open edges of wounds.

You gaped at his state, speechless as he walked past you, patting you on the shoulder affectionately. He sat on your couch and picked up your TV remote and blanket, placing the remote on your coffee table, and wrapping himself in the blanket. He smiled gently at the sight of you, blood dripping out of the corners of his mutilated eyes and mouth where his staples were pulling loose.

Dabi had been visiting you sporadically for the past two years, usually injured, and expecting you to patch him up. After a while, he eventually started coming over without injuries “just to chill, doll. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Drunken kisses and late-night confessions later, and the next thing you knew, you were a thing. You knew he was a villain. He knew you knew. You trusted him not to kill you and he trusted you not to go to the police, which was all either of you could ask for. You liked to think of it as friends-with-romantic-benefits-who-occasionally-make-out-with-each-other.

But now, on Christmas Fucking Eve, having not seen him for a month, he came back with injuries that looked like they should have landed the man in a hospital. You sputtered as he looked around at your living room, fully-decorated for Christmas, in a blasé manner, as if he weren’t dripping blood on your couch.

“Dabi,” you whispered softly, moving to sit next to him and run your knuckles over his cheek. You didn’t comment on how he leaned into your cool touch. He hummed. “Tell me what happened. Where does it hurt?”

He was silent for a minute, basking in the feeling of your fingers on his scalding skin. “My ribs,” he started. “My face. My hands and arms, too, but it’s mostly my ribs. Think you can fix me?”

You bit your lip. You knew he had a habit of being tossed around, although you knew that wasn’t his fault. “Did you hear a crack when you were fighting?”

“Couldn’t really tell.” Dabi sighed and sat back, wincing more, while you thought.

“Well, you know I’m going to tell you that you need to go to a hospital,” you said, getting up and moving to your bathroom to retrieve your first aid kit.

Dabi merely hummed again, his eyes closed, as if he were asleep. He knew you’d treat him anyway; it was one of the things he loved about you. He waited patiently for you to come back, already settled in the familiar routine you both had when he came to you injured.

You returned moments later, the small green bag in one hand and a glass of water in the other. You stopped in the living room doorway, watching Dabi in his rare state of peace.

“Stop staring and get on with it, please,” he rasped, not bothering to open his eyes. Blood rushed to heat your face, and you rolled your eyes to regain composure.

You lowered yourself carefully next to him, setting the glass of water and a painkiller on the table. You opened the first aid kit, which you had modified to include a skin stapler and remover, burn cream, and heavy-duty painkillers for when Dabi overused his quirk and seared himself from the inside out - stumbling to your door reeking of cooked flesh and day old anger.

“Think you can take your coat and shirt off?” You asked, pulling on gloves, after having furiously scrubbed your hands in the bathroom. He just grunted and sat forward, pulling his shoulders back and sucking a breath in between his teeth as his coat fell from his arms.

“Don’t know if I can take my shirt off,” he grunted, falling into a pretense of strength. You nodded and got up to get some scissors. You came back and swiftly cut his shirt in half, slowly peeling it off of his sticky skin, careful not to agitate his skin anymore.

You stopped after peeling his shirt completely off, and offered him the painkiller and water. “Take this,” you murmured, not wanting to disturb the gentle silence that had fallen over the both of you.

You looked closely at his wounds, cleaning them gently with a cotton rag and warm, soapy water. He hissed occasionally, and his muscles would twitch when the water became too cool, but other than that, he made no noise and didn’t move. When you deemed the wounds clean (to your satisfaction), Dabi exhaled heavily, and braced for the pain of re-stapling his grafts to skin, as some of the staples had popped loose.

“Do you wanna take a break?” You whispered, sitting back and dropping the rag in the dirty water, which was now steadily cooling. Dabi merely shook his head, and you nodded. You moved to load up the staple gun, patting Dabi on the leg affectionately. He seemed to relax at your touch, so as you lined the stapler up with his skin, you kept your hand on his too-skinny leg, giving it a gentle squeeze every time he hissed in pain.

“Almost done,” you murmured, moving quickly.

“What about my ribs?” Dabi asked when you were done.

“Do they feel like they move when you walk?” You asked, getting up and peeling your gloves off. You picked up the medical supplies, packing most of it away and collecting the trash in one hand.

“No.” Dabi said after a minute of thinking.

You nodded. “Well, that's good. I looked it up and if the pain doesn’t start to go away in a few weeks, then you need to go see some underground doctor. For now I’ll keep giving you painkillers and we should probably put some ice on your ribcage.”

Dabi sighed and slung his body around, splaying out on your couch like a large, lazy cat. “If you wanna feel up my body, you don’t have to pretend, doll.”

You rolled your eyes and switched on the radio and your Christmas tree. The lights gave the room a warm glow, and the holiday music that floated around the room made you feel happy, despite the bloody man on your couch.

When you were done putting everything away, you made your way back over to the couch and motioned with your head for Dabi to sit up.

He groaned, but used his elbows to lift his torso while you slotted yourself behind him. When you were fully situated, Dabi flopped back down onto you, his head resting on your chest with your legs at his hips. You both sighed, long, drawn-out sighs that spoke of content and peace.

“Those painkillers kicking in?” Dabi felt your chest vibrating as you asked.

It was a comforting feeling, one he wanted to have forever to curl into like a kitten in front of a fireplace. But you were his friend. Someone that put him back together when he fell apart. And someone he kissed on occasion.

But that wasn’t something he was willing to risk, not for the weird, half-sickening, half-whimsical feelings that were blooming somewhere in his heart.

So Dabi kept his mouth shut and leaned into your calming presence more while you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and settled deeper into the comfort of the patchwork man in your arms.

Dabi was on the edge of a blissful, pain-free sleep when he felt your hand run through his hair, making him melt and let out a sigh so near to ‘dreamy’ that you could call him a crushing schoolgirl. You giggled softly and moved his hair back so that you could plant a light kiss on his forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Dabi,” you whispered. As he slipped into a dreamless sleep, Dabi could have sworn you said “I love you,” but his eyes fell shut and he didn’t get to ask.

When you woke up, the strong smell of menthol and leather made you recoil your head, before you realized it was just Dabi and snuggled deeper into him. The last you remembered was running your hands through his hair and whispering sweet nothings to him as he slept on your chest. You must have shifted in your sleep, however, because your legs were now tangled with his and you were eye level with his collar bones.

Precious moments, you thought, wanting to stop time and keep Dabi in your arms. He would get up and try to move around a few minutes after he woke up, you knew, but it didn’t hurt less. You tightened your hold around him, snuggling your face firmly into the warm crook of his neck and inhaling deeply. He smelled strongly of burning mint, something that would always be comforting to you. You stayed like that for a few minutes, relishing in the quiet of the -

It was Christmas morning. And you were spending it with Dabi. You smiled fiercely, torn between wanting to get up to make Dabi and yourself some coffee and wanting to spend more time cuddled up to him.

Eventually, your stomach won out, and you wriggled around Dabi with minimal groans from him to get up and make breakfast. You put on your headphones and played some ambient Christmas music, collecting ingredients to make waffles. You were so focused on the quiet simplicity of making waffles for Dabi - such a domestic moment that you never truly got and were now determined to appreciate - that you didn’t hear him walk up behind you to wrap his arms around you.

You yelped and nearly elbowed him in the ribs, which would have been a very bad start to your morning, but Dabi grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth, gently kissing your knuckles while keeping his other arm snugly around your stomach. His head rested on your shoulder, a smug smile in his voice.

“What’re you making, doll?”

You fought the heat rising in your cheeks, and responded with, “Waffles. There’s coffee for you, too, if you want it.”

Dabi’s attention moved to the coffee, and you relaxed. You really weren’t used to domesticity, you thought as your heated face cooled down. You finished making two large waffles for the both of you, Dabi’s topped with maple syrup and butter, while you made up your own.

You both sat on the couch, eating happily and quietly. It was so rare to see Dabi like this, relaxed and quiet. Normally there was a certain fire in his eyes that never wavered, never died out. But this morning, with you… it was gone. Not that there was no life to him, but he looked truly happy.

And that made you happy. You broke yourself out of your thoughts when you noticed Dabi staring back at you, his eyes trained on your lips.

“What?” You asked, licking your lips. “Is there something on my mouth?”

“Yeah,” Dabi murmured, setting his plate down to kiss you gently, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. “Syrup.”

You smiled and put your plate next to Dabi’s on the coffee table. He tasted like coffee and maple and warm butter. God, I love you, you thought, tilting your head to the side, only to feel Dabi freeze.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, pulling away. “Are you okay?”

Dabi just stared at you, his blue eyes clouded and his mouth hanging open. Then he was kissing you again, his hands coming to rest on your hip and the other at the nape of your neck.

“I love you, too,” he sighed, rubbing circles over your hip before you pulled his head away, tugging on his hair.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I,” you whispered, wide-eyed and giddy, “and you said it back.”

Dabi just nodded, his eyes flickering between your lips and eyes. “Merry Christmas, doll.”

You laughed, bringing his face down to yours again and kissing him between satisfied giggles. Dabi just chuckled along with you, laying his body on top of yours, careful to mind his hardly healed wounds that you’d treated the night before. His body had seen so little care you often wondered if you were the only one to ever touch it without the intent to harm. But you wouldn’t think of that now, because he was here, with you, safe and warm and good.

It was safe to say that it was the best Christmas you’d had in a while, and it was even snowing.

End Notes: I'm aware it's nowhere near christmas. Shut up and lemme have this.

AO3 Link

ABSOLUTELY NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK TO ANY SITE.

[nemo-draco]

gemme a snippet of Coming Clean 👀 (if that is ok w u of course )

No prob! Been kicking around this particular one a lot, keep debating whether or not I should break it up into two. Especially seeing as it's at about 33 pages now and we're kind of midway through what I would consider the second part. Coming Clean's a follow up for a previous story, To Be Or Not To Be Dinner, which are both kind of meant to lead into a longer AU called Sing Together. Thing was that I haven't seen many stories about Whitty actually telling his friends Carol and Hex what's going on with his life. Especially since there is a fair amount going on, and a lot of weird habits that are probably going to get everyone's attention.

Got some of the opening under the cut!

He couldn’t say that he’d paid too much attention, and that was yet another mistake he’d made during this whole…thing. Not paying attention, not noticing how things were aligning until he’d been all but backed into a corner.

Except not really, because it was so stupid in retrospect. He’d gotten upset over a stupid, stupid kid’s movie, because he was a moron who’s emotions could be all over the place and wasn’t that just lovely, wasn’t it all just so damn great, why couldn’t you keep your stupid mess to yourself you walking WRECK—

…Well, either way. He should have known better.

It was an interesting thought to have in retrospect towards the very end of the movie, after watching this absolutely tiny, completely trusting mouse go through hell after hell to find his family, only to end up in an alleyway tearfully proclaiming that this was his home now—

—Whitty’s lungs were burning when he finally stopped, crouching behind a dumpster as he tried to get his air back. His clothes were in shambles, his old leather jacket a tattered wreck around his arms. The body had pretty much disintegrated after he’d crawled out of the smoldering remains of the building he’d-

Don’t think about it. You can’t do anything about it now, don’t think about it.

He called me a FAILURE, he told me to leave, I thought he cared! Didn’t he care at all?!

Don’t think about it.

Even with the mantra thumping away in his mind, Whitty couldn’t help a sob from coming up as he huddled there, feeling more alone than he’d ever had before. At least before, he hadn’t known what it was like to have something you cared about, to have people who cared for you.

Or at least, people who’d seemed like they cared…

Not that it mattered anyway. It was gone now. He was on his own.

It didn’t stop the crying, the gasping sobbing that felt less like tears and more like he was trying to flail away from that realization. That no one was coming. There wasn’t any rescue, YOU’RE ALL ALONE NOW AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT—

And it wasn’t helping how things were playing out on the screen, hitting Whitty with that gut-punch of familiar emotions, that horrible reminder, and then whisking it away by having that last minute save.

One that he’d never gotten to see.

Whitty couldn’t tell if his breathing was growing faster because he was upset or angry, but he’d clearly gotten someone’s attention given that the screen paused on that happy reunion, a soft call of his name coming from somewhere off to the side.

It could have been Hex, Carol, maybe even Sunday, weren’t they still in the house somewhere? Either way, Whitty didn’t answer and he didn’t let himself think. He just bolted to his feet and went right down the hall to the bathroom, throwing the door closed and leaning against it as he tried to breathe.

The light had been on already, the sight of himself in the mirror snapping Whitty out of his turbulent emotions better than a bucket of cold water to the face.

There were black tears forming in the corners of his eyes, a few spots already dotting the front of his shirt. He was shaking with how heavily he was breathing, his eyes wide and growing wider as he took in his current state.

And worse still, his wick was smoking.

Immediately Whitty reached behind his head, grasping and attempting to smother the brewing fire with his own hands. Though fire itself didn’t bother him, the somewhat metallic threads of the wick were searing enough that he quickly felt a flash of pain go through his fingers.

It didn’t help that not a second after he did that, someone knocked on the doorway. Before Whitty could stop himself a pained yelp tore through his throat, his body jolting itself to the side and right into the open shower. The bomb’s head cracked against the tile, the whole world turning incomprehensible as he slid down to sit on the cool plastic floor. Whitty could hear noise, a couple different voices talking outside before the telltale sound of the bathroom door opening made him jump out of his skin.

“Whitty? Are you okay?”

Hex?

The robot peeking around the corner did catch Whitty’s attention, and though he recognized Hex, the bomb still flinched away with a yelp as Hex tried to come closer. Immediately Hex stopped, though he knelt after a moment, not retreating as he spoke to Whitty.

“Whitty? It’s alright. It’s me. Hex. Remember?”

The bomb nodded, though he couldn’t stop a tremble from reverberating through his arms as he huddled in on himself. It still felt like the air was being sucked from the room, but there was a little bit of space. Enough that Whitty could tell his wick had stopped smoking, though he couldn’t say the same for his eyes tearing. He had to stop that, had to calm down…

“Here. Whitty, look at me. Just focus on me right now,” Hex murmured, a softer smile taking root over his screen as the bomb’s orange eyes zeroed in on the electronic display. The robot’s smile blinked away, becoming a glowing circle that softly swirled into existence, and then out, and then back in. It really only occurred to Whitty what was happening when he caught sight of a corresponding line of text, instructing him to breathe in and out in time with the circle appearing and disappearing.

And it was working, the shivering gulps of air turning into slow, deep breaths, one right after the other. The adrenaline was running slowly out of the bomb’s frame, his head lolling forward a bit as he continued to breathe. He couldn’t help wincing at the feeling of a few oily tears slipping down his face, but it was better than the veritable waterfalls that had been primed to break free before. And a lot safer, especially since Whitty could see Carol peeking around the corner, clearly wondering what the heck was going on.

Why don’t you tell them.

The thought had the bomb wincing, averting his eyes like there was some shameful secret in plain view. He hadn’t forgotten the talk he’d had with Cyrix, following the whole soccer field incident, but, he hadn’t found the time to bring things up with Hex like he’d wanted to. Of course, there’d been a part of Whitty that never wanted to, to just have things keep going like they had been. Though he knew it would only be a matter of time now, just a matter of asking the right questions and while they’d been polite before surely that politeness was just about to run out…

[fatuismooches]

Ahhh i love your sagau stuff <3 its so cute and i love it all! Today was a bit rough with fibro, I got my first injuries from it, scrapes on my knuckles and hands from wobbling into walls and corners because my arms and legs had trouble supporting me even with my crutches... made me think of how dottore or any of the harbingers would react to seeing fragile!reader with these injuries, and how they would help... Dottore bandaging you up, despite the wounds being nothing more than scratches at most... Pantalone buying the best devices or funding things to make sure life was more accessible for you Sandrone creating self stabilizing crutches or outer leg supports to keep you steady.... Tartaglia just straight up carrying you so you dont have to walk at all lol, no matter if you weigh on the heavy side (like i imagine reader to be because self insert lol), he can lift you, he promises Just... imagining stuff like this after today. Hope its ok to just drop in and talk about thoughts like this. I worry its too much or that its too personal, but the thoughts of them caring for someone "fragile" and struggling with stuff like this made me a little bit happier - that they wouldn't be offput by the extra effort they need to make you feel just a bit better... that would be nice <3 - ❤️‍🩹🌹

Hehe thank you!! I'm glad you liked it! And don't worry about it, it's not too much. My inbox is always open and I will always love to write about your favs loving and comforting you the way you are. They will always be willing to go the extra mile to make you feel better, it doesn't bother them at all 💖

Oh Dottore would take any injury you get extremely seriously. Even if it's just the tiniest scrape or cut he won't let anyone else take care of it, he is going to be the one to tend to you. One because he doesn't trust anyone else in general and also because he feels the need to make sure you receive the best treatment for everything possible. Even though he doesn't exactly do proper doctor stuff, he's going to be putting his vast knowledge to use to the fullest extent for you. Uncharacteristically gentle but firm. Pantalone spares no expense when it comes to you. Anything and everything will be available to you. He doesn't just buy things, hell, he'll pay someone to create stuff too if that's possible. Not to mention he's amazing at comforting you in general and gives the best cuddles, so no matter what you request he'll be able to deliver. And Sandrone, she'd dedicate a lot of time to perfecting the most flawless support system for you. She has a lot of knowledge in mechanics that she never thought she'd be using like this, but she is more than happy to make them to assist you. Always checking up and you and asking for your feedback so she knows what to adjust. She also lets her robots carry you around too so you don't need to walk. And pretty much all of the Harbingers can carry you easily, but Childe definitely does it the most often. It becomes a habit of his because he actually thinks it's quite romantic and cute, he loves feeling your warmth against him and your face nestled into his neck. And his stamina is out of this world so he can do it for lengthy hours, mans will take you anywhere and you won't have to move a muscle. He'll talk the whole time to distract you too, he's good at that.

[townsenddecades]

All You Want To Know And More

Why, hello there! Glad you made it to my corner of the internet.

This blog is meant to chronicle my most recent playthrough of Morbid Gamer’s Ultimate Decades Challenge, following a family of sims for many generations from the 1300s onwards. I started my first playthrough sometime in the first half of 2023 and had got to the end of the 15th century before the urge struck me to start another one in a more medieval world.

This is the challenge you’ll be seeing on this blog. More infos under the cut.

A note on my posting habits: I have a queue that puts out one post per day. Initially, I wanted to refill that queue after every five years played, but I'll probably switch that to after every year played so it isn't so much work at once.

Current Households (spoilers if you aren't caught up, obviously)

Family Tree (even stronger spoiler warning because it's up to date with my playing, which is years ahead)

Navigation:

Introducing the Challenge

Gen 0: Benedict & Anne Townsend | 1300 | 1305 | Recap 1300 - 1309

Gen 1: Benjamin & Malika Townsend | 1312 | Recap 1310 - 1319 | 1325

Links:

Morbid Gamer’s Ultimate Decades Challenge

Plumbob’s and the Past’s UDC

My Mods and CC

If anyone is interested, I could upload my spread sheet as well, but I currently don't have it online.

Some technical details

I’ll be playing this challenge in The Sims 3, which means no Ye Olde Cookbook, Royalty Mod, Simple Living Lot Trait or the like, but I’ve heavily modded my game to achieve a more immersive gameplay.  This challenge will start – but likely not remain in -  the gorgeous custom world of Praaven, which is both medieval and completely roadless.

A link to a post with the mods I use can be found above.

This challenge will be more historically inspired than historically authentic, both because the game has its limitations and because my scant historical expertise lies more in the early 20th century.

For the most part, I’ll be following the rules defined by Morbid Gamer, with some deviations:

I’ll take some inspiration from Plumbobs and the Past’s ideas to make the challenge a bit more interesting. For example, when my sims go fishing, I’ll have them pay a fee, I’ll deduct 10% of the proceeds for whatever they harvest or sell from household funds, I will use PATP's dowry rules, and probably more.

Instead of starting with three teenagers, I decided to start with two young adults that have already been married for a bit and have two children and a toddler. I had a bit of a story in mind involving the proverbial lady of the house and the local Earl, so I wanted to jump right into the action.

As Sims 3 has no option to plead with the Grim Reaper (although you can play a match of chess with him or be saved by your pet, but you would have to have a pet that likes you for that to work, or both a chess table and enough skill points) I substitute that action with rolling a d4 when a Sim I’d like to live rolls to die. If it’s a 4, they survive.

Since I think it’s boring if most sims (barring historical events) die at exactly 6/13/20/30, I’ll sometimes roll a die to see how many years of life a sim has left. Those years can never be more than the sim would have to live until the next life stage. If, for example, a sim fails their young adult roll, I’ll roll a d10. 10 means the sim dies immediately, 5 means they live to be 25, etc. A teenager or a child, accordingly, can only roll a d7.

Illegitimate children are not automatically out of the running, they just rank after all their legitimate siblings in the succession. So it's legitimate sons, then legitimate daughters, then illegitimate sons, then illegitimate daughters, and after that the nearest-related side household. Rule may be taken liberty with as is dramatically convenient.

For the most part, no re-marriages for side households. The heir, however, can and will remarry as necessary.

I’ll be starting with a family of farmers, the Townsends, but just for the fun of it, I’ll also be rolling for the two resident noble families, that of the Earl of Petersmarch, who resides in the city of Praaven, and that of Baron Elbenhawke, whose family seat is in the hills just above the Townsend’s village. As they are not even proper side households, I’ll only mention the nobles’ fates on the side, mostly as a little info text at the end or mentioned in the story as relevant.

Honestly, I’m just curious about how long their lines will last.

I've taken some heavy inspiration for the layout of this info page from @lilabella12, whose wonderful Decades Challenge you should really go check out.

Trigger Warnings:

Death (even of children, toddlers and infants) due to a plethora of causes

War

Epi- and pandemics,

Maternal death

Stillbirths

Likely at least mentions of miscarriages

Mentions or depictions of various substance abuses

References to sexual assault/coercion

Religion

Adultery

The sims featured in this likely often just won’t have a good time

[sunshineacd]

happy wip wednesday (thursday)!!

tagged by @welcometololaland thank you so much, lovely!! 💛

on this episode: I decided to write for a new ship, had a breakdown about sharing it, and then got some reassurance, so this didn't have to be a totally terrifying moment, and here we are!! a huge thank you goes out to @nelsonnicholas and @pragmatic-optimist for their constant unwavering support, I have no idea where I would be without you 💛

Alex takes a sip of his newly acquired iced coffee, swiping open the text message that appeared on his phone moments earlier from June. As he begins to type a response, he turns the corner, ending up back on the street that runs in front of the book shop. Without warning, he slams into something solid and the lid of his cup pops off, sending coffee everywhere. As Alex feels the cold seeping through his shirt, he hears a yelp of surprise beside him. Alex looks up in horror, his gaze connecting with that of Prince Henry’s before slowly travelling down to find Henry’s crisp white shirt, also drenched with coffee. 

“Shit,” Alex says, scrambling to pull out the napkins he shoved into his pocket at the coffee shop. “Here, fuck, I’m so sorry.” 

Henry takes the napkins but makes no move to try and use them. Alex figures that’s a fair move. The coffee has already set into a stain, and the shirt is ruined. “Do you always walk so recklessly?” 

It takes Alex a moment to realise Henry is speaking to him. “No, god, I’m sorry. I wasn't paying attention." 

Henry clears his throat, his tone slightly sarcastic when he speaks. “Clearly.” 

"Well, if you think you're having a bad day, I was looking forward to that coffee," Alex says, attempting to lighten the situation. "Guess you'll have to buy me another one." 

Henry finds Alex's gaze again, and his blue eyes are bright against the afternoon sunlight. A smile plays against his lips, and Alex's heart skips a beat. God, he's beautiful. 

"Do you make it a habit to spill your coffee on people and then expect them to purchase another for you? Or is it just my lucky day?" 

Alex shrugs. "Depends if it's working or not." 

"I can't quite say it's having the effect you were hoping for, no," Henry says, his widening smile contradicting his words.  

"Well, maybe I can change that by helping you clean up. I live just across the street, and I'm sure I have a shirt you can borrow," Alex says before he can stop himself. He even points over to his apartment building. Fuck, he needs to stop talking.  

Henry eyes him carefully, which Alex can't blame him for. But he does look in the direction Alex is pointing in. "You're inviting me to your home? After only having met earlier this morning?" 

"What? You've never invited someone over after a first date?" Alex asks, his brow raised. 

Henry gives him a strained smile. "My life does not lend itself to that kind of spontaneity, so I cannot say that's something I've done." 

"Well, consider this your first time, sweetheart," Alex says. "I mean, not that this is a date. I'm just trying to help by getting you out of that shirt. Oh fuck, I didn't mean —" 

"Alex," Henry says softly, effectively cutting off Alex’s impending ramble. Despite it all, Henry is smiling. "People are beginning to stare, so I think it's best if you lead the way before we end up tabloid fodder." 

Alex nods before turning away from Henry. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his heart hammering against his ribcage with impressive force. He does as Henry says and leads the way across the street, all the while attempting to ignore the persistent fluttering deep within his chest. 

[therewasatale]

numbers

On Ao3.

Note: Based on prompt.

Numbers, numbers, numbers.

For the last few years people just would not stop talking about numbers.

Oh, he knew that some numbers were very important; statistics, the number of views, and most importantly the numbers that ended up before the $. But he still knew they shouldn't be more important than the soul, should they?

There were always ups and downs, right? A lot of people still enjoyed the show, kids still learned how to be a friendly neighbour.

Then why won't people stop nagging him about deficits?

Like the man who was standing at the other side of his desk just. He came about 30 minutes ago, rambled on about a lot of numbers, trying to sound very professional.

Al Gerzwald never liked people who tried to act professional. When forced professionalism have become an ugly mask; it makes a peoples think they were better than others. Sure, a little bit of composure wasn’t bad, that was the way to improv, to get better, but people who wanted to act professional mostly cared about numbers, and forgot about everything else.

Thomas Blackgrave was an all-right college, not really an overly friendly one, he mostly avoided the puppets. On the other hand, he seemed to love to worry about the view numbers, and the show's budget. So far, Al let him work in his own place and peace, and listened to his worried, fretting reports.

But this time, it was different. Even the channel started to bother him about the neighbourhood and those damned numbers. Now they wanted to tell him what should he do with his own show.

Blackgrave cleared his throat, it seemed like he was finally able to compose his thoughts. "I think it would be in your best interest to give in and listen to me, sir. The numbers are telling the truth, the publics interests in the show are decreasing. Maybe if the episodes gets a bit more serious, just to make sure the older generations likes it as well. Maybe put some jokes in for the adults at first, the kids won’t understand."

"I'd rather eat a lemon."

There was a very confused pause between the two of them.

"I-, what?"

"You heard me." Al raised one of his thin eyebrows.

"But, Mr. Gerzwald-"

"You did good, Thomas, but enough with the numbers, I feel like I'm back at school, learning math again." Gerzwald stood up and with three steps walked towards to the still confused man.

"The channel-"

"The channel can wait a bit, I'm sure the new season coming out soon people will flock back to watch our friendly puppets again." He patted Blackgrave on the shoulder and gently but firmly he started to walk the man out from his office. "Ups and downs, Thomas. Even in business you have to deal with the downs but it's not the end of the world."

"I-, I'm not sure, we may have to cut a few corners."

"Do it then, I don't mind if my pay check is a little thinner," Al waved it off and opened the door. "We will talk about this later, I have a lot to do, count my favourite numbers. Have a good night, Thomas." And with that he closed the door at the man.

He waited until he heard the steps getting further away, and finally let out a tired sigh.

"The channel leadership can wait, it has to wait." He slowly drummed a tiny rhythm on the door. A persistent habit he probably got from his father, and had no way of getting rid of. "The Hell with all those numbers!" He mumbled under his nose as he got back to his desk.

He knew damn well how badly their last two season performed, how the critics didn't like the last movie they made. And sometimes even Al felt like they were telling the same stories.

Maybe they should change and make their episodes more mature, but that also meant to teach about the worlds to the puppets. How could he do that to them? How could Goblette, or Junebug, or Martin understand what war means? Or what is like to slowly losing your inner happiness over the years because of economical reasons? Who could teach them about death or sickness? Where to start and when to stop?

There were questions that even Al couldn't answer.

He thought about those questions, and the consequents of those questions every night, but he could never answer them.

It was too high price to pay to break those innocent puppets, they didn't deserve to be poisoned by the world. They had to stay the friendly neighbourhood for the children's and for the city's sake.

Slowly, he sank back down to his chair, and somehow felt exhausted, this wasn't new however. For months now he was losing sleep, as stress started bury itself deep into his chest.

With his right hand he opened one of the drawers of the desk and then swept aside the papers in it.

It was late, and Blackgrave was the last to have an appointment with him, which meant he was finally free for the night.

"Where on Earth-" he shuffled the papers left, then right, then he meticulously looked trough it, but he still couldn't find the key. "I know, I put it here, somewhere."

Finally, he heard a small noise that came from a pipe secured on a wall not too far away. They snaked through the entire building sometimes tying into knots deep in the floor. And one end led to his office, right on the edge of one of the sofas.

"I know you're in there. Come out, Ricky."

There was a sigh and slowly the sock-puppet slid out. "You got me, Al."

"It wasn't so hard when you were noisy." Gerzwald smiled.

"I'm not noisy, and I was just looking around the buildings, making sure that everyone is fine."

"How much have you heard?" Gerzwald tried to ignore the tightening inside his chest.

"Some stuff about numbers, that Thomas guy can be soooo boring, I almost fell asleep, actually." Ricky glanced around the room and slowly shook his head.

"So, everything then." The human stood up and walked towards the puppet. "But why the eavesdropping?"

"I didn't want bother?" Ricky glanced up, he realised his lies wouldn't work on Al. "All right, because I know something is up, all right? The humans are more jittery, smile less, there are times when I see them whispering but as soon as they see me, they make this, fake-smile. I don't like fake-smiles."

"I know, Ricky."

"So, this is why, I saw Thomas taking the elevator up here and followed him." The sock-puppet looked right into the human's eyes. "What's wrong, Al?"

The question was enough to make his stomach sank. Because there were so many things wrong in this world, but he couldn't tell him, nor to the other puppets. Where he could even start to explain? How could be sure that they won’t change forever? What could they do with a mental ill puppet?

He didn't even realise that he had to swallow.

"Numbers, Ricky," Gerzwald waved it off, "the channel worried about their money, and Thomas worries about other numbers, but nothing too serious." He glanced at his desk to avoid Ricky's eyes. "My turn to ask, do you happen to know where did the key vanished from my desk?"

"Maybe?" Ricky let out a fake-cough.

"Ricky?"

The sock-puppet also glanced away from the human.

"Come on, Ricky. Where is the key?"

"You shouldn't drink that thing."

"What? How do you even know what do I have in my desk?"

"Oh, please, Al," Ricky gave him a meaningful look, "I have access to most of the place and I know you're poisoning yourself when you're alone."

"Poising?" The human scoffed. "Where did you hear that?"

"Jackie told me, from maintenance."

"So, she was the chatterbox," Gerzwald rolled his eyes. "Where is the key, Ricky?"

The sock-puppet stared at him and tried to slide back to his pipe, but he wasn't fast enough.

"Oh no, no, no, don't even think that you can run away now, Ricky!" Al moved fast and were able to catch him at the last second. He tried to pull the puppet out from his pipe. "Give me the key!"

"I can't let you poison yourself, Al!" The sock-puppet did everything to prevent him to get out up to and including taking deep breaths to be bigger and get more stuck in.

"It’s whisky! Not poison!"

"Brain poison!"

"Ricky!"

With one final big pull he was able to get the sock-puppet out and both of them fell on the couch next to the pipe.

"That was mean!" Ricky gave him a serious look.

"Stealing my desk's key was mean." Al answered and look him in the puppet's unsymmetrical eyes. He couldn't help but chuckle. "All right. I can’t be mad at you, just give me the key."

"But-," Ricky let out a sigh and nodded. "You really shouldn't drink something like that." And without waiting for an answer, he coughed once and twice, then a small key felt out from his mouth, right into Gerzwald's hand.

"Thank you, and I know, but sometimes humans do things that are bad for their health." He let the puppet crawl up on his arm to his shoulder.

"Liking drinking poison."

"Yes-yes," Al walled back to his desk and crouching down opened the bottom drawer.

"And not sleeping enough." Ricky mumbled his eyes fixed on the human with an almost serious expression.

"I should close up that pipe," Al scoffed and took out a bottle of whisky and a glass. "But I know you would find other ways into my office anyways." He poured out a glass of alcohol.

"How does it taste?"

"Bad," he chuckled and drunk down the whisky with one gulp, letting it to burn his throat and fill his belly with fire. The warmth almost immediately started to spread inside him.

"I will never understand humans," Ricky shook his head with a weary sigh.

"Me neither, believe me," Al gently patted the puppet's head. He poured another glass and this time sipped from the whisky.

"Al?"

He felt the sock-puppet's eyes on him. "Yes?"

"Are you all right?"

He hummed and drummed a short rhythm on the glass. Any other time, for any other human he would have shaken off the question easily. This time, the words didn't want to come out. He didn't want to lie to Ricky. But of course, he couldn't tell the whole truth either.

"I'm just tired, the last couple of weeks took out from me a bit too much. I'm not a young lad anymore even if I seem to forget that sometimes." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I think, I should get some sleep."

"That would be the best," Ricky nodded so deeply he almost fell off his shoulder. "Get something to eat too, you've became thinner over the last months, Al."

"I have, haven't I?" He put down the glass. "Maybe you're right. All right, let's get you back to your place and I'm pulling down the curtains for tonight."

"Good idea, but, what if we walk down to the entrance? Just to make sure you actually go home. You know instead of checking the buildings again just to make sure that everything is fine and then you end up here, on the couch."

Al gently scoffed, but almost immediately went silent as Ricky leaned against his head.

"Sure thing, Ricky, let's do that then." He put back the cap on the bottle, and sank the key inside his pocket. "Just to making sure that it won't disappear again." A tiny smile played on his lips as he began walking out from his office. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

"Al?"

"Yes?"

"Everything will be all right, right?"

The answer came after a short pause. "Of course, Ricky. I promise you that everything will be all right." Instead of the tiny pang of guilt he tried to focus on the sock-puppet, who leaned closer to his head.

He needed to make sure that all of them would be all right.