#all because shes black like GET OVER IT ALREADY

[theballadofharkness]

Agatha Harkness VS Salem: the kittening

Pairing: Agatha Harkness X fem!reader

Summary: When you brings home a stray kitten Agatha can’t say no to those big pleading eyes and putting lips. What she doesn’t know is that she has met her new mortal enemy, transforming her house in a battleground in which she is fighting for your attention.

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: I may have already almost finished a part 2 to this already… this may be my favourite thing I��ve ever wrote

The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows along the walls as Agatha sat at the head of the table, fingers drumming against the polished surface. Your fellow witches exchanged glances, some amused, others bracing for the inevitable storm.

“She’s taking too long,” Agatha muttered, narrowing her eyes at the door as if sheer will alone would bring you home.

Billy smirked but wisely kept his mouth shut. Lilia, however, leaned forward, arching a brow. “She just went to get food, Agatha. You do remember she’s an adult, yes?”

Agatha’s sharp glare snapped to her, but Lilia didn’t flinch. She was used to Agatha’s theatrics by now.

“I do remember,” Agatha said, tone clipped, “but she should be back by now. Anything could’ve happened.”

Jen chuckled under her breath. “Oh yes, because the biggest, scariest threat to her is probably tripping over a squirrel.”

Alice grinned. “Or getting distracted by a particularly interesting tree.”

Agatha’s scowl deepened, but her fingers stilled. It was true- you were soft, gentle, prone to stopping to feed birds or magically fixing a bumblebees wing. It was why she loved you. It was why she worried.

Lilia sighed, resting her chin on her palm. “If you panic every time she goes out alone, she’ll think you don’t trust her to be independent.”

Agatha’s jaw clenched. “I trust her. I just don’t trust other people.”

Billy snorted. “Sure Agatha.”

Before Agatha could snap at him, the front door creaked open. The tension in her shoulders snapped like a thread, and in an instant, she was on her feet, sweeping toward you.

There you were, glowing with warmth, eyes bright as you kicked off your shoes. But she saw it- the hesitation, the way you bit your lip. Her stomach dropped.

“You worried mommy,” she purred, brushing a hand along your cheek, thumb tracing your lower lip. “You took too long. What’s wrong, darling?”

You swallowed, shifting your weight, cradling something in your arms.

“Aggie… please don’t be mad.”

Agatha’s eyes darkened. “Why would I be mad?”

You hesitated, then slowly, gently, lifted a tiny, black-furred bundle into view. A kitten. Small, fragile, with wide, gleaming eyes. It mewed softly.

Agatha’s nostrils flared. “Oh, absolutely not.”

The room went silent. The coven, who had seen Agatha deal with all manner of supernatural threats, were now witnessing something far more dangerous: a battle of wills between the all-powerful Agatha Harkness and her painfully sweet, unfairly adorable wife.

Agatha crossed her arms, leveling you with a firm stare. “No.”

You blinked up at her, cradling the tiny kitten against your chest. “No?”

She lifted her chin. “No.”

Billy, sitting on the couch, leaned toward Jen and whispered, *“She’s already lost.”*

Agatha shot him a look, but her attention snapped back to you when you let out a soft, sad sigh. You rubbed a gentle finger over the kitten’s tiny ear, your lower lip jutting out just slightly. Not enough to be dramatic, just enough to devastate her.

“Aggie, please,” you murmured, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes. “I love him. He needs us.”

Agatha steeled herself. “Baby, come on, we have a rabbit already.”

You perked up. “But they can be best friends!”

“They will not be best friends-”

“We can raise him,” you continued, stepping closer, voice soft, persuasive, sweet as honey. “Please, Aggie. I love you. And I love him. Please?”

A muscle in Agatha’s jaw twitched. Her fingers flexed like she was physically holding herself back.

Alice, watching from across the room, snorted. “Oh my god, just let her keep the damn cat.”

“She’s gonna say yes,” Jen stage-whispered.

Billy propped his chin on his hand. “She’s just stretching it out for dramatic effect now.”

“I am not,” Agatha snapped, then turned back to you, who was still looking at her like she hung the moon and stars in the sky. Damn you and your sweetness.

She let out a long, suffering sigh, dragging a hand down her face. Then, after a moment, she dropped her hand, pinched the bridge of her nose, and muttered, “fine.”

You gasped, eyes lighting up as you clutched the kitten closer. “Really?”

Agatha groaned. “Yes, really. But I swear to the gods, if he scratches up my books, or if he pisses on the rug, he’s your problem.”

You grinned, bouncing up and down in glee. “Okay! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise you’ll love him!”

Agatha grumbled something under her breath but didn’t resist when you threw your arms around her. Her hands settled on your waist, grip firm but familiar, and she sighed against your hair.

Billy snickered. “Well, that was pathetic.”

Agatha shot him a glare over your shoulder. “I will turn you into a toad.”

But even as she threatened Billy, her arms curled tighter around you, and she let you tuck the kitten between you both. He let out a tiny, content purr.

“I told you mommy would let you stay didn’t I S…” you cooed, stopping and blushing as you almost revealed your new sons name.

Agatha groaned. “Oh, for the love of- you’ve already named him, haven’t you?”

You smiled guiltily and nodded “his name is Salem”

Lilia cackled. “Oh, now that’s just poetic.”

~

Agatha woke with a slow, satisfied stretch, a lazy smirk curling on her lips as she reached across the bed, expecting to find you- warm, soft, pliant against her.

But the sheets were cold.

Her smirk faded. She frowned, eyes cracking open, hand still patting the empty space beside her. “Baby?”

Silence.

Her frown deepened.

She sat up, fingers raking through her hair, listening carefully. Then…

A giggle.

Agatha’s head snapped toward the bedroom door. You were giggling? Without her? Another soft peal of laughter, followed by a quiet meow. Agatha’s nostrils flared.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she grabbed her robe, slipping it on as she stalked toward the door. Her morning had already been ruined by the lack of you curled against her, but now she was hearing giggles- the kind that were usually reserved for her alone- and she wasn’t involved?

Completely unacceptable.

Barefoot and silent, she padded down the hall, pushing open the living room doors to find…

You. Laying on your stomach on the rug, elbow propped under your chin, face alight with pure, radiant joy as you dragged a ribbon back and forth. Salem, the tiny black-furred usurper, pounced and tumbled after it, little tail flicking in excitement.

Agatha scowled.

She was being ignored.

By you.

For a cat.

Her presence went unnoticed as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, glaring down at the scene with unmasked displeasure.

“Oh, you’re such a clever boy,” you cooed, wiggling the ribbon. Salem pounced again, missing completely and landing in an adorable, flailing heap. You laughed, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “Such a little hunter, aren’t you? Yes, you are! So fierce!”

Agatha rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw another dimension.

Fierce? That tiny thing was not fierce. She was fierce.

And yet, here you were, lavishing all your attention- attention that should have been spent in bed, between her thighs or seated on her face- on this ridiculous furball.

Enough.

She cleared her throat. Loudly.

You gasped, looking up with wide, startled eyes. “Oh! Aggie, good morning!”

Agatha arched a brow, gaze flicking between you and the kitten still sprawled on the rug. “Is it?”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, blinking at her. “What’s wrong?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You tell me, darling. I woke up alone. And when I came looking for you, I find you here, on the floor, giggling and fawning over-” she gestured vaguely at Salem, “that.”

Salem, utterly unbothered by her disdain, flopped onto his back and stretched out his tiny paws.

Your expression softened immediately. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry! He woke up early and was being all cute, so I thought I’d play with him for a little bit.”

Agatha’s eye twitched. “You left our bed for a cat.”

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. “Are you jealous?”

Her jaw clenched. “Of a kitten? No.”

You giggled again, pushing up onto your knees and crawling toward her. “Mmm, I think you are.”

Agatha huffed, tilting her chin up. “Absolutely not.”

But then you reached for her, standing up with hands slipping under her robe, fingers grazing over the bare skin of her waist as you pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone. “Poor mommy,” you murmured, lips trailing up her neck. “You just want my attention, don’t you?”

Agatha shivered, but held her ground. “I deserve your attention.”

You hummed, pressing a final kiss just under her jaw. “Well, then maybe you should play nice with Salem, so you don’t have to share it.”

Agatha’s glare snapped back to the kitten, who was currently grooming his tiny paw, wholly unbothered. Smug little thing.

She exhaled sharply. “Fine. But if he touches my spellbooks, he’s gone.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around her waist. “Deal.”

Salem meowed.

Agatha scowled.

This was war.

~

Agatha took a slow breath, rolling back her shoulders as she watched Billy attempt the spell she had just demonstrated.

“Focus,” she instructed, arms crossed. “Channel your energy through the rune, don’t just throw power at it.”

Billy muttered something under his breath but obeyed, adjusting his stance and trying again. The rune shimmered in the air before them, pulsing faintly with his magic. It was… adequate.

Agatha nodded once. “Better.”

She turned slightly, expecting to see you sitting up, watching like you always did when she mentored Billy. You were always so attentive- so soft and doting, looking at her like she had hung the stars just by showing a simple spell. But when she glanced toward the sofa her blood ran cold.

There you were, but not watching her. Not waiting to drape yourself over her the second she was done. No, you were napping, curled up on the couch, and draped across your chest, smug as anything, was Salem.

Agatha’s nostrils flared. Unbelievable.

She clenched her fists, fighting the petty urge to hex the little thing right off you. It was enough that you fawned over him every waking moment, but now? Now, even in sleep, Salem had claimed his place as the ruler of this household.

Billy, following her gaze, immediately perked up. “Oh my god, look at him.”

Agatha’s stomach dropped as Billy abandoned the lesson entirely and rushed to your side.

“Look at this little guy,” he cooed, crouching beside the couch, reaching out to scratch under Salem’s tiny chin.

You stirred at the movement, blinking sleepily, eyes soft and warm as you woke to Billy petting the cat.

“Oh,” you yawned, smiling as you stretched. “Morning, Billy.”

“Morning, Salem,” Billy smiled down at the kitten on your chest, still cooing over the kitten.

You giggled, rubbing your cheek against Salem’s tiny head. “He’s the sleepiest boy today, huh?”

“Right?” Billy agreed, reaching to stroke along Salem’s tiny back. “Look at him. He’s just a baby.”

Agatha, still standing stiffly across the room, gawking at the scene in front of her. You never looked at her with that same soft, sleepy adoration after a nap.

And now the two of you were sitting there, utterly obsessed with that ridiculous creature, treating him like he was the most precious thing in the world, while Agatha stood there, forgotten.

The realisation was horrifying. She had been dethroned. Salem, tiny and innocent-looking, had become the true ruler of this household. He had you. He had the coven. And now he had Billy.

She was losing.

Agatha narrowed her eyes. No. She refused to be bested by a kitten.

Billy glanced up at her and grinned. “Agatha, come look at him! Isn’t he just-”

“No.”

Billy blinked. “What?”

Agatha lifted her chin, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I don’t fawn over creatures that contribute nothing to the household.”

You pouted, looking up at her through sleepy eyes. “But, Aggie, look at his little toes—”

Agatha looked away. She wouldn’t be tricked.

Billy rolled his eyes. “You’re just mad because Salem has completely stolen your wife.”

Agatha scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Billy smirked. “Then come pet him.”

Agatha froze.

Billy’s smirk widened. “Go on.”

You looked up at her, hopeful, and patted the space next to you. “Come on, baby.”

Agatha hesitated.

Her instincts told her it was a trap.

But then you pouted, soft and irresistible, looking at her with those big, pleading eyes… And just like that, she was moving. Slowly. Cautiously.Like Salem was some ancient being waiting to strike.

She perched stiffly on the edge of the couch, glancing down at the tiny ball of fluff stretched across your chest. He blinked up at her, slow and lazy, like he was daring her to do something.

Agatha exhaled sharply through her nose. Then, after a long moment she reached out, one single finger extended…The second her fingertip brushed against Salem’s fur, the kitten let out a mighty stretch and promptly rolled deeper into your embrace, turning his back on her.

Agatha gasped.

Billy lost it.

“Oh my god, you’ve been rejected.” He wheezed.

Agatha’s eye twitched. “I have not.”

Billy cackled, clutching his stomach. “No, no, this is humiliating. He knows. He knows you don’t like him, and he’s snubbing you.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to Salem’s tiny head. “Oh, baby, don’t be mad. He just doesn’t trust you yet.”

Agatha bristled. “I don’t need a cat’s trust.”

Billy wheezed. “Oh, you so do.”

Agatha glared at Salem, and to her horror, the kitten simply let out a tiny yawn and promptly fell back asleep. Utterly unbothered. Agatha had never hated anything more in her life.

This was war.

And Agatha Harkness never lost.

~

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with warmth and want. Agatha had you exactly where she wanted- beneath her, lips kiss-swollen, breath coming in soft little pants as she trailed possessive hands down your body.

She smirked, brushing her lips against your ear. “Mine.”

You whimpered, arching into her touch. “Yours.”

A pleased hum rumbled in her throat. “Say it again, baby.”

You shivered, fingers tangling in hair as she kissed down your neck. “All yours, Mommy.”

Agatha’s grip tightened. Finally, after an entire day of being ignored in favor of that creature, she had you back- where you belonged- focused entirely on her.

She dragged her lips back up to yours, capturing them in a deep, claiming kiss.

And then—

A thump.

A chirping meow.

And before Agatha could even process what was happening… A tiny black ball of menace leapt onto the bed.

Your eyes flew open. “Oh my gods!”

Agatha froze.

You gasped, delighted, and immediately sat up, reaching for the little intruder. “My smart boy!”

Agatha’s mouth fell open.

You pushed her away.

For the cat.

Salem, looking entirely too smug, hopped into your lap and headbutted your chin, purring loudly.

You melted. “Oh, you clever little thing,” you cooed, scratching behind his ears. “You figured out the door! Mommy shut you out, didn’t she? But you got in anyway, huh?”

Agatha, still reeling, barely managed to rasp out, “I shut the door.”

You beamed at her. “He’s a genius!”

Agatha scowled. “He’s a problem.”

You weren’t even listening. You were too busy giggling as Salem flopped dramatically onto his back, rolling in your lap, fully aware that he owned you.

Agatha clenched her jaw.

No.

No, she would not allow this to happen.

She reached for you again, slipping a hand under your chin, tilting your face back toward hers. “Come on, baby,” she murmured, voice low and sultry, lips barely brushing yours. “Focus on mommy”.

But just as your lids fluttered, just as you exhaled that soft little sigh that always made her crazy-

Salem chirped and nudged your hand.

And, horrifyingly, your attention snapped back to him, “Ohhh, I know, I know,” you cooed, cradling his tiny face. “You need some loving too, huh?”

Agatha flung herself onto her back, staring at the ceiling like she was being personally victimized by the universe.

“What about my loving?” she demanded, throwing a hand over her forehead like some tragic heroine.

You giggled. “Aggie-”

Salem, with perfect timing, rolled onto his side, stretching just enough to rest a tiny paw against your cheek.

Your heart melted. “Aw, Agatha, look-”

“No.” Agatha sat up, glaring at the kitten. “I refuse to be a secondary character in my own bed.”

You laughed, utterly charmed. “He just loves me, baby.”

Agatha crossed her arms. “I love you.”

You gave her an affectionate smile. “I know you do.”

“Then act like it.”

You giggled again, pressing a kiss to Salem’s little head.

Agatha bristled. “I swear,” she muttered, throwing herself back against the pillows again. “This is witchcraft. He’s bewitched you all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Agatha, he’s just a cat.”

Agatha sat up so fast you startled.

“No,” she said darkly, eyes narrowing at the tiny ball of fluff curled in your lap. “He’s a threat.”

~

The setting sun shone through your windows, casting golden light over the coven as they sat in a circle, discussing plans for the upcoming Summer Solstice ritual.

Agatha, seated in her usual high-backed chair, had you curled in her lap, arms wrapped possessively around your waist. For the first time in days, she finally had you all to herself, without a certain feline dictator demanding your attention.

Because this time, she had planned ahead. The door to the room was magically sealed with the strongest wards she could weave into it. No amount of scratching, meowing, or pathetic manipulation would let that tiny tyrant inside.

She smirked to herself, pleased. Finally.

“So,” Lilia said, gesturing at the books in front of them, “I was thinking we could incorporate more moonstone this year. It should help amplify the energy-”

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Agatha ignored it. You, however, perked up instantly, shifting in her lap. “Aw, Salem-”

Agatha’s grip tightened. “No.”

Lilia continued, unfazed. “- and I read somewhere that incorporating fresh lavender in the-”

A tiny, pitiful whimper sounded from the other side of the door. Alice gasped, clutching her chest. “Oh no, the baby!”

You pouted, starting to push yourself up. “Agatha, let me-”

“No,” Agatha repeated, wrapping her arms more securely around you. “Let him cry.”

Billy’s eyes widened in horror. “Agatha, what the hell?!”

You turned, brows furrowing. “Baby, he’s sad.”

“He needs to learn,” Agatha insisted. “We are not interrupting an official coven meeting just because he doesn’t like being excluded.”

Scratch. Scratch.

A heart-wrenching mewl followed.

Billy was already half-standing. “That’s it, I’m getting the little prince-”

Agatha glared, flicking her fingers in Billy’s direction. Billy was immediately shoved back into his seat with an annoyed huff.

“Sit down,” Agatha ordered. “He is not royalty.”

Billy crossed her arms. “He is to me.”

“Yeah,” Jen agreed, flipping a page in her book. “Kinda sounds like you’re being a bad mom.”

Agatha’s eye twitched. “I am not his mother.”

The scratching continued.

You squirmed again. “Aggie, please-”

Agatha huffed in exasperation. “No! You are wrapped around his tiny little paw, and if we keep giving in, he’ll just keep winning.”

Jen raised a brow. “Winning what? He’s a kitten.”

Agatha gestured at you dramatically. “He stole her from me!”

The room went silent.

Then Lilia sighed, rubbing her temples. “Oh my gods”.

Billy cackled. “You *are* losing to a kitten.”

Agatha shot him a look. “I am not losing-”

At that exact moment, Salem let out the most pitiful, heartbroken little cry any of them had ever heard.

Your eyes widened in distress. “Aggie-”

“Oh, for the love of- fine.” With a dramatic wave of her hand, Agatha finally released the spell.

The door flew open.

And in strutted Salem, tail high, eyes smug, like he knew he had just won.

Agatha gawked. “You manipulative little-”

Before she could even finish, you had already scooped Salem up into your arms, cradling him against your chest like a precious treasure.

“Ohhh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you murmured, pressing kisses to his tiny head. “Mommy was so mean to you, huh?”

Agatha’s mouth fell open.

Alice glared at her. “I can’t believe you locked him out.”

Jen snorted. “I can.”

Billy shook his head in disappointment. “Shameful behavior from our fearless leader.”

Agatha scowled as Salem gave her a very deliberate slow blink, curling up in your arms like he owned the place.

Which, apparently, he did.

She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “This is witchcraft.”

Jen snorted. “He’s just a cat, Agatha.”

Agatha shot her a dark look. “He’s a threat.”

Billy immediately fell off his chair laughing.

[elizabethemerald]

Jim had a bad feeling and it only got worse. Obviously getting a call at three in the morning from a distant and estranged relative, desperate for help, would set off his instincts, but the situation only got worse the more he found out.

He and Barbara had left Gotham early the morning after the call from Jazz. His car was modified so Barbara could drive even without her legs, so the two of them took turns so they could keep going. Whenever he was driving, Babs had her computer on her lap and was typing away with an increasingly severe frown marring her face. When she took her turn driving he would use his own resources, calling in favors from the few honest cops in GPD and from other people around the city.

Everything they found just made the feeling in his gut worse and worse.

Obviously Jim had made some bad assumptions during the call and Danny was not necessarily in danger because he was trans, but he was still in danger. Jim's contacts ran into red tape as a powerful government organization blocked any attempts at investigating through above board means. Barbara's searches only managed to get a little more of the picture before she too was shut down, but rumors of a government lock down, of attacks from some extra planar threat, of the whole city getting sucked into a different dimension. This was all over his pay grade, but someone there had asked for his help, and he was going to give it.

He pulled to a stop just a few miles away from where his GPS showed only a blacked out square. He didn't know what he was about to drive into, but he had been raised in Gotham and he knew to follow his gut. Barbara looked at him curiously as he pulled off to the side of the road and unbuckled his seat belt.

"Get in contact with your cousin. Tell her to pack a bag for herself and Danny. We're not going to be stayer than it takes."

Then he stepped out and dialed a number he had memorized, but only used when things were the most dire. As always it rang twice before the other line picked up, and as always there was no response.

"Batman, this is Jim Gordon. The Justice League is needed in Amity Park, Illinois. I don't know what exactly is happening, but it goes against every moral in my body. I'm going to be extracting a pair of at risk teens. If I don't call again in a couple of hours send in the cavalry."

There was a couple of seconds of silence before Batman responded in his usual growling voice, "Understood."

Jim hung up and got back in the car just as Barbara was putting her own phone back in her pocket. He buckled up, and gripped the steering wheel, like he could choke the life out of it before stepping on the gas.

The two of them approached the city limits, the GPS blaring at them to turn around before Barbara reached over and shut it off. Just outside they saw the unmistakable sign of a government blockade. But Jim had lived through No Man's Land in Gotham. He knew how to deal with a blockade. His old car was a rough monstrosity compared to most of the world, but it was designed to survive in Gotham and modified without his consent by his caped allies. They blasted through the blockade with his middle finger pressed to the his window as he passed the government goons all in white.

They honked and shouted and green energy weapons flashed behind them, but Jim was already hurtling down the road into Amity. He grimaced as the air seemed to take on a green haze so even the sun seemed dim. He reached over to the glove box and opened it.

"Put your mask on." He ordered Barbara even as he pulled his own out from the central console. He put his on without stopping, years of dealing with the Joker and Scarecrow coming in handy as he drove with his knee on the wheel while he secured the mask.

Barbara had her own mask on and a map in her hand as she gave him instructions on how to navigate the city. Jim couldn't help that Amity looked almost worse than Gotham had during No Man's Land. The streets were torn up and covered in craters. The buildings were boarded up, or half bulldozed like the city had seen a fight between Superman and a dozen aliens. The few civilians walked scared, with their heads down, and hurried from place to place. Concernedly they did not have any masks, but Jim wasn't going to trust Barbara's health just because others didn't see the risk.

His tires squealed as he turned the final corner. He could clearly see the monstrosity that his wife's brother and his wife had built on top of their house. He could only imagine what exactly they had gotten up to in that thing. He stopped his car in front of the house and was out, marching up to the door with the engine still running almost before Barbara had finished bracing from the sudden stop.

He pounded his fist against the door for a few minutes. He stepped back ready to kick the door down when it was opened from the inside. He could see the orange hair, and a wide panicked eye of his niece through the crack of the door.

"Jazz, let's go, its time to leave. Where's your brother? Where's your parents?" Jim was tempted to stay around and let his brother and sister in law have a few choice words, but right now he needed to get the kids to safety.

"Who- Wait, Uncle Jim?" She opened the door a little more, naked relief showing through the signs of terror on her face.

"Yes. I told you I would come for you, didn't I?" He said.

Jazz stepped back, her shoulders shaking, though no tears showed. She opened the door fully and turned away.

"Danny is leading our parents away. I'll call him while I grab our bags." She turned away and ran back into the house, putting in a strange ear piece as she climbed the stairs.

Jim looked around the living room, his concern growing for these kids with each glance. There were weapons, whole and in pieces on every bit of furniture. There were puddles and stains of some strange green fluid all over the floor, and some was actively dripping from a leak on the ceiling. The refrigerator shook and wobbled like there was something alive inside that was actively trying to escape. He wanted to stay to take pictures for evidence, but he would just have to trust that Batman had taken his warning seriously and would take over.

Jazz came clattering down the stairs a few minutes later, duffel bags over each shoulder, a bag in her hand, and a pack on her back. Jim reached for his gun as the backdoor slid open, but hid the motion when Danny stumbled in, clutching a bleeding wound on his side.

"Jazz, wha-" He looked in concern at Jim, especially with his gas mask, but neither of them were giving the boy a moment to process.

Jim took a handful of Jazz's bags while she grabbed her brother and pushed him out the door. Jazz shoved Danny into back seat, and the two of them arranged the bags around Barbara's wheelchair. Jazz looked like she was about to try have them leave her behind for whatever self-sacrificing reason she had come up, but Jim wasn't about to have that and pushed her in next to her brother. She looked at him betrayed for a moment as the child locks prevented either of them from opening the back doors. He didn't care. She could be angry at him later, once they were all out of this city.

By the time he was back in the drivers seat, Barbara had pulled the big first aid kit out from under her seat and was passing it back to Jazz to get Danny taken care of. He pulled away from the curb and raced to the end of the street. He squealed around the corner just as some kind of fucking tank pulled around the corner behind them.

"Are you going to be able to get us out of the city?" Jazz asked, her voice panicked as Danny turned around to watch the tank immediately give chase.

"Please, I'm an officer in Gotham City. This is just a Thursday for us." Jim said without taking his eyes off the road.

Jim Gordon might not have powers, or the training that the Bats have, but he had experience, and his car had been modified a thousand times. He knew it was the weird love language of the Gotham Vigilantes, trying to keep him safe in the hell that was being a good cop in GPD.

He needed every ounce of his decades of experience to navigate Amity and stay ahead of the tank that was taking shots at them whenever they could. He snarled as he caught a glimpse of the Fenton logo on the side. The elder Fentons didn't even care that they were taking out street signs and mailboxes. Jim was sure that if there were any citizens out on the road, they would have been run down by the reckless driving.

Barbara typed away on her computer, while Jazz tried to patch up her brother in the backseat of the moving car. Jim didn't know what his daughter was doing, but knew better than to ask questions. The tank behind them suddenly taking a hard right into a mostly demolished building as she cheered showed she was successful.

"I hacked their steering." Barbara said triumphantly.

"That probably won't hold them long." Danny said.

"It doesn't need to." Jim said, and he let his foot fall harder on the accelerator.

After out driving the Fentons, the government blockade was easy to bypass, and once they were on the open road, Jim really let the lead out and took off pushing 90. He was an officer of the law, the highway was empty and he had two scared and injured kids in the car, plus his daughter. He could be forgiven for breaking a few speeding laws.

A few miles outside of the city the crackle of static from his radio signaled that they were successfully outside the government quarantine. They had made it.

Jazz sobbed in relief, while Danny looked like he couldn't decide between worried and elated. Barbara smiled at him and grabbed his hand where it sat on the wheel, both of them removing their masks. He had his niece and nephew out of the city. The rest was in the Justice League's hands.

Jazz's parents have gotten worse, their passion has turned into an obsession. Her parents don't even know that they are hunting their son every day. Jazz makes a tough call and rings up her uncle-in-law whom she has not had contact with in years.

Commissioner Gordon was not expecting to get a phone call at three in the morning; especially not from an estranged niece that he had seen a handful of times. The last time he seen that side of the family was before his wife had died.

Now he's driving halfway across the country with a confused daughter to meet up with the said estranged family.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Luke would be the type to keep his private life very private so him having a gf only really his family and friends in michigan know so the devils have no clue and i could see the boys always trying to get luke to hookup with people for like a whole season till next season when they finally learn luke has had a gf the whole time

Oh boy, 100%. He always just politely tells them he's not interested in dating anyone or having a casual hookup or pretends he doesn't notice what they're doing. Jack 100% does not help, he finds it hilarious when any of the guys are trying to get Luke to talk to some random girl in a bar, but he will 100% confirm to you that Luke is the most loyal boyfriend you could ask for. I also see Luke feeling guilty about it even though he hasn't done anything, so every time he gets back to the apartment he's telling you if you live together or phoning you if you don't and basically confessing his 'sins', like 'i'm so sorry, baby, Marky tried to get me to go out with this blonde and she wouldn't stop touching my arm and I told her I wasn't interested and I only love you.' Definitely reaches a point where he breaks and just goes 'STOP! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND' and all the guys are just like 'why the hell didn't you tell us this sooner?' Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

"Hey, C'mon, Rusty! What about the blonde at the end of the bar?" Curtis points to a young woman around Luke's age, platinum blonde hair, little black dress, who's eyeing Luke like he might be candy. It doesn't flatter him, if anything it sends a sick feeling to his gut, a roiling discomfort because only you're allowed to look at him like that. You can eye fuck him, no one else. He feels objectified.

"Curtis, I've told you I'm not interested. Not my type." Not his type because his girlfriend is his only type and there's only one of you. It doesn't matter if 100 attractive women all tried to get his number right now, he wouldn't care, wouldn't give it out because you're the one he wants. Literally no one compares to you, he's smitten, whipped, absolutely in love.

"C'mon, seriously! You didn't go out with anyone all last season! Not even a hook up, you're celibate, man! You're young, you should be having fun!" Curtis knocks his shoulder with a grin and Luke just grips his beer tighter, feeling a familiar frustration at the situation. He spent all of last season dealing with the boys trying to goad him into hook ups and flings, throwing women at him like it was their duty to get him laid. He hated every minute of it.

"Yeah, Lukey, you were practically celibate, a monk," Jack chimes in, arm thrown over Luke's shoulder with a grin, the irony of his words not lost on either of them because Luke was definitely not celibate last year. He just wasn't hooking up with random strangers, because he'd started dating you, because you were the only person he wanted to see, to kiss, to sleep with and that still stood firm and true.

"Just go talk to her, maybe you'll get lucky and go home with her tonight! C'mon, what's wrong?" It's Dougie that chimes in this time and Luke wants to die. He wants to die. Or alternative go to your apartment and curl up with you in bed because this is the worst.

"Yeah, are you scared, Lukey?" If Jack wasn't his brother he'd have killed him already, killed him for encouraging all of this bullshit for a year, knowing full well that Luke wasn't single. But, he can't because his mom would be upset if Jack died...he rolls his eyes at him instead, shrugging his arm off of his shoulders.

"You're not secretly a virgin or anything, right, Rusty?"

"Fuck off, Lazar." He snaps, not because it would matter if he was, but because it's stupid that that's the only reason people can comprehend he wouldn't want to sleep around. Maybe it's just not his thing to have hook ups? Maybe he's focusing on his career? Maybe he's already in love and anything else would be cheap and insignificant in comparison?

"Oh, that's hit a nerve, some truth in that?" The guys are all grinning at him like they think they've got it all worked out and it just...it makes him snap, slamming the bottle of beer he'd been cradling to the bar top.

"No, y'know why I don't want to go talk to some random fucking blonde in the bar or hook up with whatever girl you throw my way? Because I've got a fucking girlfriend, okay? I'm not virgin! I'm not celibate! I just don't want to fuck a girl that isn't my girlfriend!" Luke's breathing heavy by the end of it, red it the face because it is so fucking annoying to constantly be bugged about it and he just wants everyone to get off his back. He's happily with you, he doesn't need random hook ups and he certainly doesn't need his team mates trying to get him laid like they have some moral duty to do so.

The way they look at him makes him feel stupid because suddenly they're all calling out variations of, "Dude! Why the fuck didn't you tell us this sooner?!" and he realises that maybe he could have solved this all months earlier by just saying he was seeing someone...like a normal person, maybe? But he'd wanted to keep things private...

He flounders for an explanation, mouth opening and closing, running a hand through his mess curls like that might help his brain to function.

"I just...it was new and...we were keeping it private."

It's Marky that turns to look at Jack, "Did you not know about this?"

"Oh, I knew." Jack is all smug enjoyment, leaning back against the bar and winking at the blonde Curtis had been trying to set Luke up with. Satisfaction rolled off him in cocky waves.

"Why they hell did you let us shove girls at your brother then?" Curtis asks, shocked, nay baffled because Jack had just spent an entire season practically encouraging the behaviour all while knowing full well Luke was dating you.

"It was funny," He shrugs with a grin and mentally Luke is considering whether the price he'd pay is worth putting itching powder in Jack's underwear drawer or maybe if cutting his hair in his sleep would be a better punishment since he can't rip another set of braces off him like Quinn did.

"That's messed up, Jack!" "Yeah, man!"

Luke sighs as the guys all ripped into Jack, downing the last of his beer and grabbing his phone off the bar top.

"Fuck this, I'm going to see Y/N."

"Ohh, you're girlfriend!?" And just like that Luke knows...he knows he's not out of the woods, it's just that the woods have changed from teasing and taunting him about hook ups, to doing so about his girlfriend.

Fuck, he hates being a younger brother.

[yassbishimvintage]

Just Us

MDNI: For the grown and the sexy.

Warnings: Talks of kids, sex positions.

A/n: Hey y'all. So here is that Aaron fic. Look its all over the place. And I highly recommend listening to the song before to set the mood.

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains of their St. John’s Wood home, casting a golden hue across the minimalist, yet luxuriously warm bedroom. The house was unusually quiet, their busy schedules clear for the first time, leaving Aaron and Cleo to savor the rare stillness.

Aaron stood at the vanity mirror, buttoning up a crisp black shirt, the fabric molding perfectly to his broad shoulders. His hazel eyes flicked toward Cleo’s reflection as she moved gracefully across the room, her silk robe tied loosely at the waist, revealing hints of the outfit underneath. She was effortlessly stunning, her skin glowing with that natural radiance he could never get enough of.

"You’re staring, Mr. Pierre," Cleo teased, applying a subtle gloss to her lips, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Aaron didn’t miss a beat, stepping closer to slide his arms around her waist from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. "And I’ll never get tired of it," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of her neck.

Cleo chuckled, her fingers briefly resting on his. "We’ll miss the movie if you keep this up."

He leaned back slightly, meeting her gaze in the mirror. "Is that really a problem?"

They eventually managed to finish getting ready, Cleo slipping into a chic, figure-hugging dress with a pair of understated yet elegant heels. Aaron, in his tailored slacks and shirt, exuded that effortless charm she always admired.

As they walked to the Bentley truck, Cleo grabbed his hand. "It’s nice, you know—just us today."

Aaron squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "My favorite kind of day."

During the drive, their playlist filled the silence—an eclectic mix of old-school R&B and modern hits, songs that carried memories of road trips, late-night talks, and spontaneous dances in the kitchen.

At the cinema, they opted for one of those luxury screening rooms with reclining seats, plush blankets, and an intimate vibe. Aaron ordered their usual—popcorn layered with both butter and caramel (Cleo’s guilty pleasure), and a couple of mocktails.

Mid-movie, Aaron reached over, his fingers finding Cleo’s without looking. She squeezed his hand gently, leaning her head against his shoulder. For them, it wasn’t just about the film. It was about these small, quiet moments—the ones where words weren’t needed because the love was already woven into the space between them.

After the movie, instead of heading straight home, they strolled around the city, talking about everything and nothing, laughter spilling freely, just like when they first met. It was a simple morning turned perfect, wrapped in the comfort of familiarity and the spark that never faded.

-

Cleo glanced up at Aaron, a slow, teasing smile curving her lips as they walked hand in hand along the quiet streets of London. The soft hum of the city provided a gentle backdrop, but his question hung in the air, weighted with both playfulness and sincerity.

She arched a brow, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, so that’s your agenda for today? A movie and a baby-making proposal?"

Aaron chuckled, pulling her closer until his arm wrapped securely around her waist. "I mean, it sounds like a solid plan to me. Quality entertainment, great company, and potentially expanding the Pierre legacy."

Cleo laughed, the sound warm and rich. She stopped walking, turning to face him fully, her hands resting on his chest. 

Cleo pretended to consider, tapping her finger against her chin dramatically. "Hmm, sleepless nights, diaper blowouts, teething… sounds dreamy."

He laughed, the deep, warm sound vibrating against her palms. Then, with a more tender expression, he whispered, "But also baby giggles, first steps, and watching them grow up with a family who’ll spoil them rotten."

Cleo’s heart softened, even as she rolled her eyes playfully. "You’re dangerously persuasive, Mr. Pierre."

Aaron grinned, leaning in to kiss her softly. "I’m just saying… we’d make a masterpiece."

She laughed against his lips, then pulled back slightly, her gaze locking with his. "Well, you know me—I love a good challenge."

He smirked. "So that’s a yes?"

Cleo just shook her head, her smile giving nothing away as she started walking again, tugging his hand. "Let’s get home, and we’ll see who wins this round."

Aaron followed, that satisfied grin still on his face because he knew exactly where this was headed.

Aaron chuckled, his grip on her hand tightening slightly as they continued walking. "Well, can you blame me?" he replied, his voice low and smooth. "Your body’s basically my favorite subject. I study it like it’s the only thing that matters."

Cleo laughed, shaking her head, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks despite the years they’d been together. "You say that like it’s supposed to be flattering."

He stopped walking, gently pulling her to face him again. His hazel eyes softened, the playful edge giving way to something more sincere. "It is. I know every curve, every change, every little sign. It’s like your body speaks to me, and I’d be a fool not to listen."

Cleo’s heart skipped, her teasing demeanor faltering under the warmth of his words. She reached up, brushing her fingers along his jaw. "You really don’t play fair."

Aaron leaned down, his lips brushing against hers, soft and lingering. "Never claimed to."

They stood there for a beat, wrapped up in the quiet, unspoken connection that always seemed to pull them back to each other. Then Cleo pulled away slightly, her signature smirk returning.

"Alright, Mr. Pierre. Let’s see if all that studying pays off."

Aaron grinned, sliding his arm around her waist as they headed home. "Oh, trust me, Professor—I’m about to ace this test."

Aaron smirked, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischievous glint as he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

"You really wanna know?" he teased, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her hip. "It’s not just about the position, babe. It’s about having you right where I want you."

Cleo arched an eyebrow, amused but intrigued. "Oh, I’m listening."

He leaned back slightly, his grin widening. "Alright then. It’s when you’re on top," he confessed smoothly, his hand sliding up her back. "Because I get to watch you. Every move, every expression—you in control, but still mine. And when I pull you down just enough to kiss you? That’s my favorite."

Cleo’s laugh was soft, her eyes darkening with both affection and heat. "You really don’t know how to keep things PG for more than five seconds, do you?"

Aaron shrugged, unapologetic. "Not when it comes to you."

Aaron chuckled, his lips brushing over the back of her hand before resting it on his thigh as he merged onto the highway.

"Back shots are a close second," he admitted, casting her a quick sideways glance, his grin never fading. "But see, with that, it’s all about me—control, power." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "But when you’re on top? That’s us. It’s you owning it, and me losing my damn mind watching you."

Cleo smirked, tilting her head slightly as she studied him. "So, basically, you like being obsessed."

Aaron laughed, his deep, rich tone filling the car. "Babe, I’ve been obsessed since day one. That’s nothing new."

She rolled her eyes playfully, leaning back in her seat, her smile softening as she looked out the window. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

He shot her another quick glance, his grin turning into that smug, signature smirk. "Nah, I’m lucky you’re mine."

Cleo’s gaze lingered on him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, freshly defined by his new cut. The subtle glint of his chain peeked out from beneath his shirt, catching the light with every slight movement. His glasses sat perfectly on his face, adding an intellectual edge to his already magnetic presence. The way his hand rested on her thigh—firm, warm, and claiming without needing to say a word—sent a comforting shiver through her.

His focus on the road was unwavering, but his thumb absentmindedly traced slow, deliberate circles against her skin. There was nothing performative about it—just natural, effortless intimacy, like his presence was the anchor to her heartbeat.

She sighed softly, the tension she didn’t even realize she carried melting away. “You don’t even try, do you?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, more to herself than him.

Aaron’s lips quirked slightly, his eyes still trained on the road. “Try what?” he asked, his thumb pausing for just a second before continuing its gentle motion.

She shook her head with a faint smile, looking out the window, her heart swelling. “You just… exist. And it’s enough.”

At that, Aaron glanced over briefly, his smile softer now, filled with unspoken words. He gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Same way I feel about you, baby.”

And just like that, the car didn’t feel like a space—they were wrapped in a bubble, just the two of them, the world passing by unnoticed.

Aaron stepped out of the car with effortless grace, his chain catching the last hint of daylight as it swayed slightly with his movements. He adjusted his glasses with one hand while the other casually slid into his pocket as he rounded the sleek Bentley. His steps were unhurried, purposeful, like every motion was stitched with quiet confidence.

Reaching Cleo’s door, he opened it with a smooth pull, his gaze dropping to meet hers. There was a softness there—an unspoken tenderness mixed with that ever-present masculine edge she loved. His hand extended, palm up, the veins in his forearm subtly defined as he waited for her to take it.

Cleo slipped her hand into his, and the warmth of his touch sent a familiar spark through her. He helped her out with ease, their bodies naturally falling into sync as she stood. His hand didn’t drop away immediately; instead, his fingers lingered, sliding from her palm to her wrist, then up to gently brush the inside of her forearm.

“You good, baby?” he asked, his voice low, coated with that distinct rasp that always made her chest tighten in the best way.

She nodded, her smile soft yet full of heat. “I’m always good with you.”

Aaron leaned in, his lips grazing the curve of her jaw, then trailing softly to the shell of her ear. “Good,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “Because I plan on keeping it that way.”

His hand found the small of her back as they walked toward the house, fingers spreading wide, possessive but protective. It was subtle, but to Cleo, it was everything—the quiet declaration that she was his, even without words.

-

Aaron disappeared into their expansive walk-in closet, the faint sound of hangers sliding along the sleek, custom-built rods filling the quiet space. The soft lighting cast a warm glow over the neatly organized rows of designer suits, tailored shirts, and an impressive collection of sneakers meticulously arranged on shelves. His chain caught the light once more as he pulled his shirt over his head, the muscles in his back flexing with the motion.

Cleo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of his physique. His broad shoulders tapered down to a slim waist, the definition in his back a testament to his disciplined routine. He didn’t know she was watching—or maybe he did. With Aaron, it was always hard to tell because his awareness of her presence was almost instinctive.

He exchanged his tailored slacks for a pair of soft, grey sweatpants, the waistband riding low on his hips, and tossed on a black fitted T-shirt that hugged him just right. As he adjusted the simple yet perfectly styled chain around his neck, he caught her reflection in the mirror—a soft smile playing on her lips, her gaze unapologetically lingering.

“You just gonna stand there and stare?” he asked with a smirk, his deep voice carrying that casual tease she’d fallen for years ago.

Cleo stepped into the closet, closing the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps. “Can you blame me?” she replied, her fingers lightly grazing the exposed skin at his waist before sliding up to rest against his chest. “You make it hard not to.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly, his grin deepening as he leaned down, his lips barely brushing hers. “Then don’t stop,” he whispered, before claiming her mouth with a kiss that was both soft and possessive, his hands finding her hips, pulling her closer.

For a moment, the world outside their closet ceased to exist—just the two of them wrapped up in the gravity that always pulled them back to each other, no matter how much time had passed.

Cleo lay sprawled across their bed, the soft linen sheets tangled beneath her, her chest rising and falling in slow, satisfied breaths. The subtle sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, catching the muted afternoon light that filtered through the sheer curtains. Her hair fanned out across the pillows, wild and untamed, much like the energy that had filled the room just moments before.

Aaron stood at the foot of the bed, his chest heaving slightly, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He raked a hand through his hair, the chain around his neck resting against his collarbone, glinting faintly. His gaze never left her—admiring, possessive, tender.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice husky, filled with both pride and adoration. He climbed back onto the bed, settling beside her, his hand tracing lazy, feather-light patterns along the curve of her hip.

Cleo’s lips curled into a soft smile, her eyes half-lidded with that post-bliss haze. “You know,” she said breathlessly, “I was just trying to get dressed.”

Aaron chuckled lowly, leaning in to press a kiss to her shoulder, his beard grazing her skin, sending a fresh wave of warmth through her. “You looked too good to ignore,” he whispered against her skin, his fingers still drawing slow circles.

She hummed in response, her hand finding its way to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm. For a few blissful moments, neither of them spoke, just basking in the quiet intimacy that filled the room.

Then Aaron broke the silence with a soft laugh. “So… that dinner date with Kel and Simone?”

Cleo turned her head slightly, giving him a playful side-eye, her smile widening. “Oh, we definitely missed that dinner. But I think they will forgive us. Eventually.”

Aaron grinned, leaning down to kiss her again, slow and unhurried. “We’ll catch the next one,” he whispered, his hand slipping to intertwine with hers, their fingers fitting together like they always had—effortlessly.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout @melaninpov @todorokishoe24 @chaoticcoffeequeen @gopaperless @jenlovey @notapradagurl7

[agathasfamiliar]

hi!! I just found your blog, can I request g!p detective!agatha railing reader in a missionary position and has a bulge kink (poking the bear🤭🏃‍♀️)

thank you so much for this request it was very fun to write, i hope you enjoy it!

fuck the police:

detective agnes o'connor x fem!reader

You fucked up and finally got caught for your long-running streak of graffiti artistry. What's worse than being arrested, however? Being interrogated by the one detective in town who causes you to question your all out hatred for the profession.

word count: 6.2k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, agnes is trans/intersex/has a penis, penis in vagina sex, power bottom!reader, service top!agnes (but agnes still needs a little control of course), handcuffs, breeding kink, bulge kink, agnes loves reader's tits, smut

author's note: trans butch agnes, my beloved. also i probably could've done more research into a more realistic set up/i know this isn't how someone being arrested/interrogated would work but it's porn so...hopefully you can look past that

You never thought you’d find yourself here, arrested and waiting to be questioned for your crimes. Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming, your graffiti art has steadily risen in popularity over the last few months, ever since one particularly evocative piece got featured on the local news and allegedly inspired a number of protests throughout the city of Westview.

Not that you had anything to do with that.

The police department has issued several requests for information on you, even offering a pretty handsome reward for the proven identity of “Hex”, the name you tag every piece with. A rumor has even reached your ears about a copycat artist getting arrested over in Eastview. Serves them right for using your signature, but it at least has kept the feds off your trail for a bit. 

Admittedly, you’d gotten cocky thinking you could get away with tagging the squad car stationed at the busiest intersection in town. In your defense, it had looked empty. How were you supposed to know the deputy on duty was napping in the back seat? You’d made it halfway through the looping pink pig face you were sprawling across the windshield before he woke up and chased you down four blocks.

If you were wearing your usual running shoes instead of having slipped on an old pair of slides in your rush out of the house, you probably would’ve outrun the middle-aged cop chasing you, another mistake you won’t make again.

  Now, you sit shivering in nothing but a sheer white tank top and sweatpants so spattered in all the vibrant colors of your, now confiscated, cans of spray paint, that you can’t even remember what color the pants originally were. You weren’t an idiot, you had a black hoodie on when you went out to do your work, but the rookie cop that booked you at the station also insisted on taking your sweatshirt for “evidence”.

You’re pretty sure he just wanted to see you suffer in the refrigerator-like temperature they keep the precinct at, clearly only recently having graduated the academy and already taking a shine to abusing his power. Pigs, indeed. 

The interrogation room they brought you to well over 30 minutes ago sits at the very back of the building, a windowless box that somehow looks and smells both musty and sterile. A large one-way mirror covers the wall opposite the door, the only noise in the confined space being the tick-tick-tick of the clock above it that reads just past midnight.

You rattle the short chain connecting your handcuffed wrists to a bar on the heavy metal table in front of you, just to disrupt the suffocating silence. Have you seriously been forgotten here?

Just as you have that thought, as if summoning another person into existence with it, the door, opposite the corner where you sit, opens briskly. 

Twin sighs of irritation drop from both your mouth and the supposed detective’s as she enters. You can’t make out too many details of her appearance at first because of the dim lighting that mostly just illuminates the table you sit at, as well as the fact that she has her head down looking over what you assume is your intake forms. 

“I want a lawyer.” Are the first words out of your mouth once the woman has turned to shut the door behind her.

“Ha!” She laughs dryly and it has you simmering with rage already, but something about it also sounds familiar.

 “Well, sweetie,” The still concealed detective continues as she finally steps into the light, “not likely to find a public defender that’s available at this hour, but if you insist on staying overnight…” She trails off amusedly, finally stepping into the light and causing your prepared reply to die in your throat as you connect the recognition of the voice with the blue eyes that meet yours.

“Detective O’Connor.” You greet, trying to keep your tone even. 

Fuck.

Of fucking course, of all the detectives in the goddamn city, this is who had to come question you. The same detective you’ve served coffee to every morning for the better part of three years at your shitty cafe day job. The same detective who barely acknowledges your existence, but when her fingers brush yours as you pass her usual over the counter, you think about it for the rest of the day. The detective you berate yourself for fantasizing about, because she’s everything you despise and your friends would never let you hear the end of it if they found out, especially with how often you’re spouting your “radical” political beliefs (not that you see them that way.)

Detective Agnes fucking O’Connor…

This is not how you imagined it would look if you ever got her in a room alone.

“Huh? Do I know you?” She questions, almost offended, and now you’re the one to let out a dry laugh.

“Here, let me help jog your memory.” You say, picking up the small, paper cup of water that had been left on the table for you in one bound hand, holding it aloft and reciting her order.

 “One large hot coffee with two sugars and half a pump of vanilla.”

She looks unaffected at your display, only raising both eyebrows once in sudden recognition before sauntering over to the chair on the other side of the table and sitting down casually. 

“Impressive, that how you’ve avoided custody so long? Charming Westview’s finest by memorizing their coffee orders?” Her questions are laced with condescension.

“Nope, just yours. Why? Is it working?” You smirk despite your better judgment. You hadn’t planned to try the flirting route to get out your charges, but hey, the best schemes have an element of truth to them. Plus, if this is the only chase you’ll have to speak to the detective alone, you might as well make the most of it. 

She doesn’t answer, instead leaning back in the rickety metal chair that lets out a squeal at the motion. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail that’s tied low at the base of her skull. Blue flannel sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and it’s all you can do not to think about tracing your tongue over the veins that snake over her strong forearms.

The jeans she’s wearing strain with the way she sits, legs spread apart, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from letting out a gasp when you notice how it puts the delicious outline of what’s beneath the denim on display. Fuck, you do not need to be thinking about straddling the woman where she sits and grinding down against her bulge right now, but you are anyway.

Mercifully, she leans forward again in the seat to ask another question and the view is gone. You need to focus if you’re going to get out of this without incriminating yourself.

“What were you doing tonight?” She asks flatly, getting down to business. You know better than to provide anything resembling an answer, true or false.

“This whole thing seems pretty excessive, all things considered. I mean, an interrogation? Really, Agnes?” Her first name slips out before you can catch it, but you don’t really care.

“Just answer the question. And it’s Detective.” The flare of anger in her eyes only spurs you on.

“Sorry, Detective Agnes,” you correct yourself, purposefully using her name this time, just to see that flash of heat again. 

“If you were so curious about where I was tonight you could’ve just asked me out.” Now that you’ve opened the floodgates, the suggestive remarks just keep coming out.

For Agnes’ part, she remains still and draws in an angry breath. Her blue eyes blaze with irritation at your lack of cooperation more than the intrigue you were hoping for, but that just means you’ll have to turn up the dial on this improvised plan you’ve laid out for yourself. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?

“Listen, if you’re going to keep wasting my time I’ll just lock you up now and wait ‘til morning.” She threatens with a glowering expression, voice raising every few words in an attempt to intimidate. It’s kind of cute, actually. 

You think she might hear just how her phrasing comes out and anticipate your next response, because she almost looks remorseful. The slightest pink tone that rises to her cheeks and the way she pokes her tongue out to wet her bottom lip when her eyes flick down to your barely covered chest don’t escape your careful observations either. 

“Ooo,” you start, falsely scandalized, “now you want me to spend the night?” A slight giggle escaping you at your own words and the way you lift your handcuffed wrists in front of you playfully. 

With the action, you’re sure to press your biceps against either side of your body to even more obviously display your tits, and she can’t help but look down with the movement, eyes raking over your nipples that stand at attention beneath the thin fabric in the cold space.

Heat is practically rolling off her in waves and you can’t tell for sure if it’s arousal or fury that is threatening to boil over, or what will happen when it does, but you have always been the type to take risks. Why stop now?

“Can’t you just get me off with a warning? I mean- let me off…” You ask before she can recover from your last question, attempting a simper at the intentional slip up in your speech. 

It seems that this is what finally pushes her over the edge as she slams her hands loudly against the metal table and stands up, causing it to vibrate with the impact. Her chair goes clattering to the ground behind her, but she doesn’t seem to care. The satisfied expression you wear drops for a second at the forceful display, maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

“Alright, that’s enough!” She shouts, leaning over so you can practically feel her breath on your face before she rounds the table quickly.

“Do you really wanna keep poking the bear?!” She asks, furious, now standing at your right side and heavily folding at the waist to shout into your ear. 

You have to lean away slightly at the volume that threatens to burst your eardrum and it provides just enough space to look the detective up and down where she stands. 

That’s when you see it. 

Unmistakable and pressing against the zipper of her jeans so forcefully that it’s a wonder they haven’t burst; Detective O’Connor is hard. 

You can’t drag your eyes away from the tented fabric, so obvious that it nearly casts a shadow onto the denim in the odd light of the room. As you are still seated, you’re practically at the perfect level to just lean over and mouth the length through her pants. It’s all you can do not to let your head dip where it wants to most, as if you’re a magnet being drawn by its opposite charge.

“I- uh.” You stutter, unsure of your words for the first time since she walked in. The amount of saliva that has accumulated in your mouth at the sight in front of you forces you to swallow before you speak again.

“I think I’d rather have the bear poke me.” You breathe, sounding wrecked just at the thought.

When you finally drag your gaze back up to hers, her face is burning red, but this time you can tell it is much more out of embarrassment than anger. She looks self conscious in a way you’ve never seen and it’s so, so pretty. 

“It’s okay I c-” You start, reaching out uselessly in your confines, but you’re cut off from your attempt at a rare comforting word when Agnes seizes your right shoulder and lifts you to your feet. She then immediately folds you over and presses you against the table on your stomach, handcuffed hands pinned beneath your chest. You let out a grunt at the forceful action as well as the freezing cold metal that almost stings your skin that has warmed at your flirting.

The position is much like the one you were put in a few hours ago upon your arrest, only now it causes you to ache with desire instead of seeth with fury. 

“You think this is funny?!” She questions, but it sounds strained and unsure. Your own hesitance at her intentions keeps you from muttering out that it’s actually not funny, it’s really fucking hot.

It dawns on you then that she probably turned you over like this so you aren’t able to see the blush that’s probably still spreading over her skin, or the bulge in her pants that’s no doubt only getting worse, especially with how you purposefully arch your back in her grasp.

She has you pinned beneath her hands, one still on your shoulder and the other holding your waist, the perfect placement for her to pull you back against her. Instead, a shaky breath sounds from behind you. It seems like she’s deciding what to do next and you can almost feel the heat radiating from between her hips that begs her to choose the option you’re hoping for too.

You start pressing back yourself, impatient and using any amount of leverage possible to reach your destination. To help her decide.

“Come on, detective. Let me help you out.” You nearly whisper in the most convincing and sweet voice you can muster. Her hands loosen ever so slightly at the soft sound and you use the opportunity to slide the last inch backwards, your ass just barely brushing her front, aware also that if she had wanted to stop you she would’ve easily been able to.

You feel the hardness and heat of her cock against you through both your clothing and nearly release a whimper at the sensation, at the idea of her finally being inside you like you’ve fantasized about so many times. 

Just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone again. Her hands release you entirely and she steps away without a word, leaving you feeling even colder than the steel table you’re slumped against. You drop your head to the metal in defeat. That’s it, you think. Your efforts haven't worked and you’re not only going to spend the night in a cell, but you’re going to do so while very uncomfortably wet and wound up. Plus, she’s probably going to try to add attempted bribery or harassment to your charge sheet. God, this was a dumb idea. Why couldn’t you have just gotten some old guy detective whose questions you would have dodged coldly and without a second thought?

All these thoughts flash through your head in the few seconds it takes Agnes to step away from the table and turn you by the hips to face her, the chain keeping you there being just long enough to allow such movement. 

You look down immediately, as if out of instinct, to find the large bulge still present, possibly even more so somehow. A bolt of desire strikes through your core at the small dark spot you notice has formed on the crotch of the already dark jeans. The evidence of your effect threatens to turn your legs to jelly. Finally, your eyes raise to meet Agnes’ with a curiosity, who stands less than a foot from you, hands still holding your hips loosely. The thrill of not knowing what she’ll do next makes your already racing heart beat even faster.

You find that she looks as weak as you feel, drinking you in like you’re an ice cold glass of water she’s found in the middle of the sahara. It’s clear that she’s used up every last thread of restraint she has to resist your offer, and it still has proven to be insufficient. Her blue irises have nearly been swallowed by blown black pupils that bore into you as she speaks her resignation to her rapturous fate.

“If I’m gonna fuck you,” she breathes the words out like she’s just run a marathon, “it’s gonna be while looking at those pretty tits.”

You lean back into the table in favor of collapsing straight to the floor at those words. How is this actually happening?

Seeing you stumble into the table, her right hand shifts down to your thigh and lifts, helping you to sit on the ledge as she steps closer to let your knees bracket her body. She looks so much more confident in this moment, and not in the same stone-faced way she had while you prodded at her before. It brings a soft smile to your lips and she looks away, somewhat coyly, at your noticing. It’s hard to decide if you prefer her shy or assertive.  

Blunt nails graze gently over your covered thighs, to your hips, then your waist, before finally settling over your scarcely contained breasts. Your own sharp intake of breath meets your ears as you lean into the warm touch and she squeezes them with a smirk playing on her lips.

  “I might not remember your face…” she rasps, leaning to speak directly into your right ear, “but I definitely remember these.” Both thumbs move to brush over your already pebbled nipples, causing them to harden further. You roll your eyes, both at the comment and at the thread of pleasure that tugs right from where she touches you all the way down to your pulsing clit.

For all the humor in it, you can’t help but notice just how sincere her comment sounds and flashes run through your mind of every low cut top you’ve ever worn to work, wondering which one’s are her favorite.

“Shut up and fuck me already.” You exhale with a chuckle against her cheek, momentarily forgetting your binds and trying to reach around her shoulders to pull her closer. The chain rattles loudly and you jerk with the reminder of your limited movement.

Agnes shakes her head and laughs at your needy but firm command as well as your inability to move.

“Here, let me.” She continues laughing gently as she reaches for the key ring you somehow hadn’t yet noticed swinging from her hip. 

“No.” You blurt before you can think better of it. 

“Leave them.” 

It’s a daring statement and you run your tongue across your teeth mischievously while the implication works its way through the woman’s mind. Her lower lip disappears into her mouth with how hard she bites into it, looking at you in disbelief and utter need. 

“Fuck,” is all she says, dropping the keys back to her side and moving instead to undo her belt with a clumsy haste. 

You would be scrambling to remove your own pants as well, not wanting to waste anymore time, but your own request has left you unable to do so. Instead, you’re left in awe as the black leather belt is unlatched and left hanging loosely open while Agnes works at her zipper. Even less is left to the imagination when denim is pulled aside to reveal cotton boxer briefs protruding with the tension of her arousal.

Her cock is pressing tautly against the soft, grey material and the way the underwear clings to her body causes you to gape at the implication of how much the secure garment is still concealing. 

The dark spot you’d noticed on her jeans is even darker and more centralized to its origin on the grey cloth. Saliva fills your mouth again at the sight, the only thing better than seeing her from beneath that last layer of clothing will be when it is finally removed.

As if reading your mind and wanting you to suffer a moment long, she pauses her motions of undressing any further. Before you can argue or make a snide remark, her hands are on your own waistband, tugging the paint-covered article down as much as she can while you’re still seated. You can’t very well lift yourself with your hands at the moment, so you slip off the table quickly to help get them the rest of the way down, hopping back up just as swiftly and letting her pull them off your legs, shoes falling to the floor one by one in the process. 

The cold table under your mostly bare ass draws the breath from you momentarily, only a black pair of boyshorts now protecting you from the metal.

“Do you ever wash these?” Agnes asks down at the rainbow vomit littering your clothing before dropping the pants to the floor, a real dry humor in her voice replacing the stern, mocking one from when she first entered the room.

“What’s the point?” You ask, because seriously, why would you wash them if you’re just going to get paint all over them again?

“Do you answer every question with a question?” She fires back, moving back between your knees from where she’d stepped back to help undress you. Her fingers play again at her own waistband, dipping into them slightly before meeting your eyes, waiting for your answer.

“Do you always stall like this when a girl wants you to fill her pussy?” You ask with an exaggerated expression of curiosity, as if you are genuinely awaiting the answer and not just communicating your impatience. 

Her cheeks pink again at the response, any clever comebacks quickly forgotten. You remove your gaze from her face and shift it back to her arousal to allow her to blush in private.

In your peripheral vision, you see her eyes flick up to watch your face as she dips her left hand into her underwear and grasps herself so gently, right hand pushing the material down to reveal what you’ve been waiting for.

You’re first met with a mess of dark curls that trail all the way up to her belly button, which you only catch a quick glimpse of with the way her shirt momentarily gets caught by her arm. You stifle a moan at the reveal of her thick cock; rock hard, reddened and still beading pre-cum, as you saw evidenced on the front of her jeans and underwear.

Now you slightly regret having her leave the cuffs on, as you long to reach out and take the length in your hands, or better yet, your mouth. Heat takes your face at the idea of getting on your knees before the detective and gagging on her length, and now you’re the one blushing and biting your lip.

Painfully tearing your eyes from the beautiful sight to catch Agnes’ expression, you find her still looking for your reaction. She finds exactly what she’s looking for in the way your eyes soften and you use one finger, your hands still bound at the wrists and settled in front of your chest, to beckon her forward.

Loose strands of brown hair that have escaped her messily tied back tendrils brush the side of your face as she leans in close to catch your message.

“I need your cock inside me, detective.” You husk, more than speak, into her ear, the lust dripping from the title she insisted on minutes ago causing a physical and auditory shudder through the woman. Looking back down, you see Agnes stroke herself once, as if your words have rendered her unable to resist.

Maybe she notices that you’re about to make a comment about it, because in one swift motion Agnes’ right hand flies up to your left shoulder, shifting you fully to your back on the table. You let out a gasp at the sudden movement, metal tabletop clattering at the impact and drowning out the sound. Just as quickly as you’ve adjusted to your new position, you’re being pulled by the thighs to the very edge of the table and towards exactly what you want, Agnes then guiding you to wrap your spread legs around her hips for support.

“You need this, huh?” She asks, hungrily looking over your body from her new perspective. You’re about to answer her question with your own when she slowly and teasingly drags the head of her cock from your clit to your entrance, over your underwear. Her timing is getting a little too convenient.

You groan at the feeling of your own wetness being pressed against you by her hardness. It makes you ache knowing it’s so close to being consumed by your heat, only a thin shield of fabric left between you. If you had full range of motion of your hands, you would have already ripped the rest of your clothing off, but the quick and dirty way you’re both still mostly clothed almost turns you on more. 

Desperate to maintain the dizzying contact, your hips grind upward as your legs become a vice, pulling her ever closer. The clear enthusiasm only spurs her on, gliding back up and down again, circling your clit three times with her cock on the last pass until you're squirming beneath her and hopelessly trying to contain your whimpering. You would rather wait a lifetime for your orgasm than beg a cop.

You’re so sopping wet, though, that when you look down between your bodies you can see the way her cock shines with your arousal despite not having yet made full contact. It’s almost too much to bear, your clit throbbing in time with your pounding pulse. Something has to give or you’re soon going to be a blabbering mess. 

“Just fuck me, Agnes!” You bark out, hips rising insistently and your voice verging on a whine.

The room goes still for a moment, even the clock ticking away on the wall seems to pause for dramatic effect as she quirks an eyebrow and tilts her head dangerously at your outburst. That same feeling from before washes over you, when you thought you might’ve really fucked up, but it only lasts for half a second before a hand is shoving your ruined underwear to one side and you feel the tip of her resting at your entrance.

Your eyes meet her blue ones, which are actually still mostly black, especially in this light. They burn into you like before and you don’t know whether her silence is a good or bad thing. 

You draw in your own shaky breath, waiting for her next move, and on the exhale she sheathes herself to the hilt inside of you.

Even she can’t contain her half of the guttural growl that comes from both of you at the perfect feeling. You don’t even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed about just how fucking soaked you are that she was able to slide all the way in with one thrust, because the way her cock is filling you up so completely has rendered every other thought irrelevant.

A moment passes where you both breathe, adjusting to the stretch and squeeze respectively. You feel her throb once within you and think, at this point, with enough determination, you could come just from that small amount of friction.

You don’t need that determination, though. As if mocking that passing thought, Agnes skips any unnecessary build up and starts at a positively bruising pace. Just one moment ago she was panting over you, looking like she might not even make it two thrusts in before unraveling, and now she’s slamming into you with a literally breathtaking force.

No intelligible noises are able to come out of your throat at first, only broken, reedy gasps. Your eyes roll back in your head as the glorious, slapping sounds of your joining sexes fill your ears. Her length jabs over and over again at the perfect spot inside you, just where you need her. 

Doing your best to focus your vision, you look up to see the red face of a woman clearly holding on to her composure for dear life. Her finger nails are short, but still able to bite into your hips ever so slightly as she practically slides you up and down along the table while also moving against you herself, which deepens her thrusts even more.

This also seemingly provides quite the show for Agnes, who you observe is splitting her time between watching your face contorting with pleasure, her cock sliding in and out of your pussy, and most of all, the way your tits are bouncing considerably with her every movement.

“You like these? You should fuck them.” You make out between gasping breaths, nodding down at your own chest.

Agnes takes a moment to respond, her laser focus causing her to not even register your words at first. When she does however, and notices your gesturing, her thrusting falters only for a moment, as if the idea alone has made her nearly swoon with desire. Crystal irises scan you over again and you can tell she’s thinking about it by the way her eyebrows knit together in a desperate sort of way.

“Maybe next time.” She decides, smirking down at you and ramming herself into you particularly hard once before returning to her rhythm, while her left hand comes up to grip your right breast greedily.

“Mmn- next time?” You ask around a moan, trying not to sound too hopeful, but it’s also such an unexpected sentiment from the detective you can’t help but question her further.

“I’d bet good money this won’t be your last arrest,” is all she says to satisfy your curiosity. While it’s also a subtle dig at your evading skills, your imagination still runs wild with the unspoken promise of how a future slip-up might turn out for you. It almost makes you want to get caught again.

“Right, because you’d love to f-fuck, fuck! Oh my god!” Your response turns into a moaning curse when her hand shoots down from playing with your tits so her thumb can land firmly on your clit and press down with flawless pressure, never letting up consistently filling you in the process. 

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..” The mantra spills from your lips while your orgasm mounts within you and you know you’ll be toppling over the edge any minute now.

If your hands were free you would be locking your fingers behind her neck and pulling her even closer to you to ensure you get what you want, but the burn of the metal chafing your wrists is a delicious alternative. The pain only sharpens the pleasure you’re feeling everywhere else and you throb at the idea of waking up tomorrow and seeing angry red and purple bracelets of evidence.

At your emphatic request, she doesn’t stop. You’ve never been so full before and when Agnes’ cock throbs within you after every couple of pumps, stars explode behind your eyes. There’d better be a next time because you’re pretty sure nothing and nobody has or will ever make you feel like this.

“I’m so, so close. Fuck!” You shout, unsure what possesses you to tell her, but her response only drives you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, yeah, fucking come for me. Come on my cock, come on my c-cock…” She huffs, the exertion that you were already impressed with her maintaining finally shows in her voice, but she still never lets up. It almost sounds like she’s begging, a “please” barely contained behind her lips, and that’s what makes you really want to come for her.

Chasing your orgasm, you redouble your efforts of rocking your hips up and it makes her length press even more fully against your front wall until you’re practically screaming with pleasure. The new angle caused by your rocking coupled with the way your walls are tightening around her in anticipation of your release is also clearly doing something for Agnes.

Her breaths are coming in short puffs and she is completely unable to stifle the loud whimper that bursts out of her when you clench around her even harder, your orgasm just seconds away.

That’s what finally does it, that mewl that you were able to pull from the tough detective. It sends you flying, every muscle tenses and wave after wave of pleasure causes you to buck against the table and Agnes, but she holds you firmly in place, fucking you through it and moaning herself the whole time as she marvels at your release. The aftershocks go on for what feels like forever while you float in your euphoria, never wanting it to end.

After your release, Agnes’ thrusts quickly become short and frantic, almost rutting into you with a fervor. The throbs you’ve felt are coming on every pump and you’re content to lie back in your blissed out state and let her take whatever she wants, until she starts to pull out of you, one trembling hand releasing your hip and clearly intent on finishing herself off. 

You’re suddenly more lucid than ever, quickly locking your ankles behind her from where they’d fallen limp, and shoving her back into you until she bottoms out. A surprised breath leaves her at the action, a sheen of sweat breaking across her forehead as she stutters out her reasoning.

“I-I’m gonna-” She can’t even get the words out and it’s the second time in so many minutes that you feel your heart squeeze at just how adorable this usually grave woman is. 

“I know, I know. Come inside me, baby.” Your voice is thick with desire and you’re still lingering bliss, the pet name slipping out like water, but you need her to know just how badly you want it.

Her eyes widen slightly as a deeper blush somehow takes over her already red face, unsure but so very full of want. You feel her twitch within you despite herself and her hips roll just at the words. 

You don’t break eye contact, making clear how serious you are to quell her doubt.

Tentatively, after a beat, she starts up a slower pace, pulling almost out of you before thrusting all the way back in, like she’s giving herself time to think again.

“You can do it baby, I know you want to. Fuck, you feel so good inside me.” You gasp out the words while she fucks back into your pussy and you think you could come again just from the way she looks at you when you say them.

You repeat your cooing encouragements and it doesn’t even take three more of those slow thrusts before she falters and stays sheathed inside you, rutting weakly. 

“Come on, baby.” You repeat, and you know she’s done.

More of those beautiful whimpers fall from her lips as you feel one stronger throb and then warmth explodes into your walls. You can’t help but moan yourself at the feeling of being filled by her. Spurt after spurt of her cum coats your insides while she holds you tighter and tighter, as if you’ll float away if she lets go. Her desperate moans die down eventually and she slumps against you, still inside, and draws in one big breath before releasing it slowly. Her eyes are screwed shut and her head is now resting against your restrained hands on your chest. 

It’s probably good they're restrained, you think, because if they weren’t you’d be having a very hard time resisting running your fingers through her long hair, tenderly scratching your nails against the nape of her neck.

Another beat passes where the two of you breath against one another and come down from your respective highs. The delicious mix of your and Agnes’ cum has started to drip out of you onto the table below and it’s a hot enough thought that your sensitive clit gives a weak twitch and you clench around Agnes unintentionally, causing her to crane her neck to look up at you.

Her eyes are clear again and softer than you’ve ever seen them; you let your coursing endorphins carry you away on a cloud of imagining leaning the six inches it would take to capture her lips in yours, but you don’t dare actually do it.

She starts to shift, maybe shaking herself from some similar thought, you can’t tell. Her soft sex pulls out of you slowly as she pushes up on her hands and waits for you to release her from the grip your legs still have her in. You unsteadily unravel yourself from her, shuddering slightly at the loss and trying not to think about how empty you feel without her.

Now free, she tucks herself back into her briefs and makes quick work of finally undoing your cuffs. Her hands rub at the raw skin absently, using her hold there to pull you into a seated position. She then reaches down for the balled-up mess you call a pair of pants and slides them back onto your trembling legs easily. After you’re relatively put back together, cum still leaking out and coating your already ruined underwear, she looks you over once more with hunger along with something else you can’t place. 

She looks thoughtful, like she wants to say something else but thinks better of it, instead letting a sly smile pull at her mouth and a different comment sneak through with a soft laugh.

“Consider that your warning.”

[qrrieterisunnq]

Am I Really Enough? - Luke Hughes

masterlist | wip's

— WARNINGS: Hateful comments, grammar errors — SUMMARY: Luke wants you to know how much he adores you and that he doesn’t care what others say about you on social media. — WORD COUNT: 1,5K

It had been going on for a few months. Firstly, you didn’t really pay attention to it, but lately, the comments get worse and worse and the TikTok’s got even more nastier that you somehow let them in your mind.

You tried to act like nothing was happening in front of everyone, but keeping put together was getting harder and harder.

It wasn’t until a few days back that Luke started to notice the changes in your behavior. It wasn’t anything big, but he could sense the distance you slowly put between each other.

It was the way you would check yourself in the mirror with a slight disgust on your face but would quickly mask it as soon as you saw him.

The way you would hide your body whenever you were with the other Devils’ or when you saw someone taking a photo of you.

Or the way he would notice dry tears on your cheeks after he got out of his shower after a late game.

He doesn’t know what is happening but needs to find out.

Today, he had an early morning practice, so he had to be really quiet because you were still sleeping. Normally, you’d be awake by the time preparing him a quick breakfast and snack, but your head was hurting yesterday, so that is why you were sleeping.

Right before he left, he looked at you to ensure you were still sleeping. He sat down beside you, slightly caressing your hair away from your face. With a soft smile, he kissed your forehead and with quiet ‘love you’ he left.

Jack was already waiting for him in front of your apartment building, so he threw his bag on the backseat and slid next to Jack.

“Morning,” Jack yawns from behind the steering wheel, forcing Luke to look at him.

“Morning. Tired?” Luke’s eyes wander around Jack’s face, noticing the dark bags under his eyes.

“Yeah, Florence didn’t sleep too much during the night. it’s the time her teeth start to grow.” he sighed running his hand down his face as he groaned.

“We can always look after her on the weekend so you two get some sleep,” Luke offered with a small smile gazing at his lips. Maybe it would brighten your mood.

“Yeah, but you know, Sunny, she wants to spend as much time with her as possible.” He sighed and pulled out from the parking lot toward the Prudential.

“I know, just saying. You two could use some time alone.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it,” Jack sent him a smile and stopped at red. “Anyway, how is Y/n?” 

“Ugh, I am not sure. She’s been acting weird lately,” Luke sighed this time it’s him who runs his hands down his face. “She’s been distant and just not herself.”

“Hey there lover boys!” Jesper shouted as soon as he caught a glimpse of Luke and Jack.

“Hello, Swedish man!” Jack grinned at him and fist-bumped him on the way inside the locker room.

“Hi, Bratter,” Luke smirked ruffling the shorter guy’s hair.

Jesper swatted the hand away with an annoyed huff and kicked Luke in the shin.

“You look tired man. Flo giving you a hard time?” Nico chuckled when he noticed the black bags under Jack’s eyes.

“Yeah, her teeth are growing,” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face yet again. “She lets up sleep only three hours a day, so it’s tiring.”

“I got it. If you want to, you can't take a few days off or always bring her to me I’ll gladly look after her.” Nico offered, and Jack had to smile. He is so grateful for you all. “Hey there Lukey!” Nico waved at the younger Hughes as soon as he saw him.

“Hello, Captain,” Luke grinned at him. “Ready for practice?”

“The hell I am." he grinned but remembered he needed to talk to him. "Anyway, I need to talk to you after, do you have time?” Nico says more seriously, causing Luke to swallow hard and nod his head.

“Uhm. Yeah sure.” He swallowed again, and the smile on his face vanished away.

“Move your asses guys!” Coach Sheldon yells inside the locker room, startling most of the guys.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Luke sat down next to Nico after he got out of the shower, the towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

Nico nodded and handed him his phone, which was playing some TikTok with you and Luke. Luke watched it with furrowed eyes because he didn’t know what he was supposed to looking for.

“Look at the comments.”

Luke opened the comments, and his jaw dropped. He knew people were cruel on social media, but he had no idea they were this cruel.

“And that is not the only one. Do you remember when Y/n posted the photo of you and her on New Year's,” Nico asked and took his phone back.

“Yeah, what with that? I didn’t see any ugly comments.” Luke looked at Nico with raised eyebrows, not catching up.

“That’s because y/n deleted them.” Nico sighed and for the second time handed Luke his phone with screenshots of the comments.

I don’t know what he sees in her, but he could do better.

You should put down some weight

Don’t you feel a bit out of place when you’re with his friends?

Do you ever feel embarrassed standing next to him? I mean, people must wonder why he settled.

Luke swiped through the screenshots, tears forming in his eyes as he read through them.

“Oh, my fucking shit.” Luke breathed out as he finally realized, why were you acting so off for the past few weeks.

“Yeah, I noticed that y/n was acting off, so I just wanted to show you.”

“Thanks, man,” Luke nodded, appreciation clear in his voice even though Nico could hear the tears. “I um, I need to go.”

Luke quickly changed into his clothes and rushed out of the arena. He probably broke most of the road rules, but he didn’t care, he just needed to talk to you, to make sure you know how beautiful you are no matter what.

Luke barges into your apartment like there is some murderer inside the building startling the shit out of you.

“Jesus Christe Luke! What the fuck?” you yelped out, your hand hovering over your heart.

“Is it true?” he panted out, dropping the bag from his shoulder on the floor, his voice full of hurt.

You straightened your spine, not knowing what he was talking about. Or more like being afraid of what he’s talking about.

“What are you talking about?” your voice is a little bit shaky from the fear that he knows. He knows all about what is going on in her head.

“You know what I am talking about,” He breathed out, slowly approaching her. His heart was beating fast from the number of steps he ran up, just because he didn’t want to wait for the elevator. “The comments, the videos,” he dropped down on his knees before you, his hands flying to your knees. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You shook your head in denial.

“Y/n, I love you the way you are. And it pains me to see that I’m not showing you enough how much I love you,” Luke sighed and took your hands in his in a reassuring move. “And I promise you that I will try harder from now.”

“No, no, Luke, it’s not your fault!” you rushed out, shaking your head hurriedly. “You make me loved so much, but it’s me. The comments and videos make me feel like I should do something with myself.”

“Hey baby, look at me,” he shook your hands to get your attention back on him when he noticed you drifting away. “You have nothing to change, just because someone said in comments. You are gorgeous the way you are. But if you really want to, then I will support you, you know that.”

“So you think I am fat. I knew it.” You sniffed, the tears you’ve held back now falling over the edges.

“Hey, hey. I didn’t say anything like that, y/n, and you know that!” Luke sighed and stood up, only to sit down next to you and pull you in a tight hug.  

“You know I love you the way you are, and I would never change anything about you,” Luke whispered, his lips pressed against your temple, rocking you side to side. “I love you so fucking much, baby. But if you don’t feel comfortable in your body, I will support you if you want to start going to the gym.”

“I am sorry.” You sobbed out, clutching Luke's biceps tightly. “I ju-just don’t want you to re-realize that maybe one day you’ll need s-someone more o-on your le-level.”

“Hey! You are way on a higher level than me, baby, and you know that.” He grasps your face in his palms, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t fucking care what the people say about you in comments, and you too shouldn’t, because they are just pathetic excuses of people, okay.” He didn’t let go until you understood that you were gorgeous. That day, you spent cuddling on the couch, watching Supernatural’s and him whispering in your ear how beautiful you are and how fucking lucky he was to get you as a girlfriend.

[satoruswifeyyyy]

taking care of sick toji (drabbles)

masterlist

requested by @totallygyomeiswife

toji fushiguro swaggered into the house like he hadn’t just been caught in the middle of a monsoon. his black shirt clung to his skin, droplets of rain sliding off his ridiculously muscular frame, and his hair was a dripping mess.

he looked like a drowned cat—if the cat was six feet tall, stupidly attractive, and had the ego the size of japan.

you, meanwhile, took one look at him from where you sat on the couch and sighed dramatically.

“oh, wonderful. the storm dragged in an idiot.”

toji scoffed, kicking off his boots with a wet squelch. “relax, mama. i’m fine.”

“no, you’re soaked. go take a warm bath before you get sick.”

he smirked, running a hand through his wet hair. “cold’s got nothing on me, babe.”

megumi, all of five years old and already sporting a permanent scowl, deadpanned, “you’re literally shivering.”

“am not,” toji shot back immediately, despite the visible tremor in his hands.

tsumiki, the true voice of reason, crossed her arms and frowned. “papa, listen to mama.”

“pfft, what’s the worst that can happen?” toji waved them off and flopped onto the couch like a wet rag. “i’m built different.”

you stared at him for a long second before shaking your head. “alright. don’t come crying to me when you—”

the next morning.

toji fushiguro, walking muscle and self-proclaimed immune-to-sickness warrior, lay sprawled in bed with a raging fever. his face was flushed, his usually sharp green eyes were bleary, and his entire existence radiated pure, unfiltered misery.

you stood over him, arms crossed, smug as hell.

“good morning, ‘built different.’”

toji groaned. “don’t.”

“oh, no, no, please, let me say it.” you cleared your throat. “i told you so.”

he let out a suffering sigh, turning his head into the pillow like a dramatic teenager. “leave me alone.”

megumi climbed onto the bed, looking down at his father with an expression that was far too judgmental for a five-year-old. “so. turns out you can get sick.”

“shut up, brat.”

tsumiki giggled from where she sat beside you, holding a cool towel. “papa, mama says you need to drink something warm.”

“i don’t need—”

you pressed a spoonful of soup against his lips, cutting off his protest. “open up, big guy.”

he scowled. “i can feed myself.”

“oh? can you?” you raised a brow. “because you look like you’re five seconds from passing out.”

megumi nodded sagely. “he does.”

“traitors,” toji muttered, but he begrudgingly let you feed him.

“wow,” you teased. “toji fushiguro, feared bounty hunter, being spoon-fed by his loving wife. how adorable.”

his face, already red from the fever, somehow managed to darken. “y/n.”

“shh. say ‘ahh.’”

“this is humiliating.”

“this is necessary.”

tsumiki, ever the responsible one, patted his forehead gently. “mama’s just taking care of you, papa.”

toji sighed, accepting his fate. “…you guys suck.”

megumi poked his arm. “we’re the only reason you’re still alive.”

“…fair.”

you chuckled, pressing a kiss to his burning forehead. “next time, listen to me.”

“yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, eyes already slipping shut as exhaustion took over.

megumi pulled the blanket up to his chin, and tsumiki tucked in the edges. you smoothed back his messy hair, smiling softly.

yeah, he was an idiot. but he was your idiot.

a/n: honestly i am kind of disappointed with this one :( this didn't slay as much as i wanted it to. and i know I AM SORRY 😭🙏 for not posting.

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of the Thirteenth-to-Fourteenth Doctor Regeneration in Power of the Doctor - Part One

Excerpt from Benjamin Cook's article in DWM #584:

Across the studio, executive producer Phil Collinson, director Rachel Talalay, and a growing number of crew members are huddled around a laptop. What are they watching? Rachel motions for David and DWM to join them. “I want to show you Jodie’s half of the regen,” she says. “Ooh yes, please,” says David. “This is exciting, isn’t it?” But secrecy is paramount. “What I also wanted to show you, David, is the few minutes leading up to it –” “But I’m not allowed to see?” David finds this very funny. Rachel presses play. We watch the Thirteenth Doctor’s final 45 seconds. “There she is!” exclaims David, as Jodie steps out of the TARDIS onto a rocky peak – the sea ahead of her, the sun starting to rise. “On a clifftop??” Phil looks on approvingly. “This is unusual,” he says. “Blimmin’ hell.” “It’s beautiful,” adds David. [...] Rachel’s last work on the series was the Twelfth Doctor’s 2017 swansong, Twice Upon a Time – which ended with Jodie’s very first scene. Having midwifed the Thirteenth, Rachel has returned to see in the Fourteenth, directing today’s regeneration and the first 2023 Special. “I am so lucky I get to do this,” she says. “That I get to re-regenerate David Tennant is phenomenal. I was already incredibly interested in returning. Just the fact that Russell was coming back was enough. When I was told it was David too, that took me to a whole other level.” In studio, on Rachel’s laptop, Jodie has finished regenerating. (David: “That’s all we’re getting? I want to know what happens next!”) Cut to black and an on-screen caption: “Over to you, Russell!” Rachel runs David through her camera moves. “We don’t want to pull out on Jodie, then keep pulling out on you. We want to push in on Jodie, so we want to reverse this shot, push in as the morph starts, your clothes disintegrate –” David: “Uh huh.” Rachel: “– and by the time we get into the final position, it’ll be fully you. Everyone will be like, ‘Holy wow! I thought this would be Ncuti Gatwa.’ And then, David, it’s over to you. Tell us what you want to do.” “Exactly the same as I did last time?” “Sure. Why not.” [...] On set, David is taking a selfie with the TARDIS. “I’ve got to send Jodie this,” he says, gleefully. “I’m texting her and sending her pictures, because obviously she isn’t here, but she’s my mate, and we’ve got her on a screen to line me up…”

Future posts this set will be available in the #whoBtsPower tag. The full episode behind-the-scenes list is [ here ]

[sailornymph]

Hey! Can you please do a relationship dynamics with Sasuke when they were genin ? Like wether they were on the same team or not and how they act together Infront and off front of people, something like that. You write what you want, because I don't really have a preference for something , I'm just not good at describing what I want 🥹

‘IMPERFECT FOR YOU’

genin!sasuke x genin!reader

authors note : a big thank you for 200+ followers in just a month. i am super grateful and excited for what the future brings!! and your description was perfect anon, thank you :)

— you never intended on getting the attention of sasuke uchiha, originally, only trying to prove a point to your parents. you may have been a rainbow baby, but you were far from weak and did not need their constant overbearing protection

— you weren’t the quickest fighter, but you relied heavily on strategy and it carried you thus far, finally taking the genin exams. embarrassingly pushing your mother, as she hugged you, telling you that you didn't have to do this

— passing your exam, you receive the second highest score, only missing a question or two more than sasuke

— you are placed on team 8, alongside kiba, hinata, and shino. while there were talks of you being placed on team 7, many of the sensei disagreed pointing out that while you had the second-highest score, you didn't have any special qualities

— while you are aware of the uchiha’s presence, you aren't initially attracted to him. there are too many girls in the class who already like him, and he is very rude, so why waste your time?

— you have your first encounter, when you cause a scene, arguing with neji. it was no secret that he was mean to hinata, but no one seemed to ever stand up to him

— you knew he was stronger, but you still stood your ground, defending your friend. you couldn’t even remember what happened. your last memory conscious was seeing kakashi and guy sensei standing in front of neji…and sasuke, before blacking out

— waking up in the hospital, with a broken arm and a blackened eye, you are immediately bombarded by your worried parents, scolding you, as they pepper your face with kisses. was this not enough proof that the shinobi life was not meant for you? not exactly. they stick around until you convince them that you are fine and they can go back to working

— as they are leaving, kurenai sensei enters along with your teammates, with gifts and hugs, glad that you are okay. despite having to scold you, for fighting, she is also proud of you, for standing up for what thought was right. spending time with them, hinata shares a bit of insight from the fight

— before neji could deliver the final blow, the uchiha had intervened. no one even knew he was watching, the two of them shared words no one could hear, but from the look of it…sasuke and neji were about to fight next until their sensei’s showed up stopping it

— with a stunned look on your face, you accepted their hug as they left, allowing a few other friends to visit. by the afternoon, you could only imagine your expression, when there was a soft knock before sasuke entered

“you’re okay,” he said, his usual stoic expression in place.

“i am, i heard about what you did, thank you,” you smiled, as he let go of the door, allowing it to shut behind himself.

“tch, why would you think you of all people could fight neji?” he asked you, frowning, catching you off guard.

“the way he treats my friend is unacceptable, because of something she had no control over-

“so you pick a fight with a hyuga, you’re smarter than that, y/n,” he glared.

staring perplexed by his choice of words, you furrowed your eyebrows. sure, you had the second-highest scores, but that could have easily been a matter of luck. however, you were never around sasuke, you weren't even friends with sakura or naruto, so how would he have known if you were smarter than picking a fight?

“i’ve seen you training until the sun is setting, you want to be stronger, you aren't annoying like the girls in our class. all they care about is getting my attention, yet, you never spared me a glance”

“what is your point?”

“you're smart and i find you…interesting,” he found himself struggling to form his thoughts into words, a dark pink hue appearing on his cheeks.

“oh? sasuke, you are interesting to me too, you're very cool and i’m sure you will be an amazing shinobi,” you smiled, making him shift his eyes.

“would you like to have some food? everyone has brought me so much, i don't want it to go to waste,” you offered, hoping to lighten the tension.

“what do you have?”

“chocolates, mochi, onigiri, and soup”

“just a bit, i don't care for sweets,” he mumbled, joining you.

— the cycle continued and you don’t think too much of it. sasuke visited you every evening, sometimes he would talk (it is usually you talking and he had short responses) but he mostly listened, only leaving once you started yawning too much, or the nurse told him he had to go

— finally the day came that you could leave, and struggling to pack your things, your arm in the sling, you were unsurprised by sasuke picking up your bag. following close behind you, you thanked him, leading him to your house

— as you arrive, before you can wish him farewell, your parents open the door. staring at sasuke, they immediately began to thank him, inviting him inside for dinner. he wanted to say no thank you, but your mother was already tugging him into your home, saying he could wait with you until dinner was ready

— apologetically leading him to your room, it was awkward sitting next to each other. your eyes glued to the floor, as he stared at all of the pictures you had on your wall. from trips with your parents, pictures with your teammates, or other friends who weren’t in your class

— your father finally entered the room, letting you both know that dinner was ready. you proceed to endure the most insufferable dinner. your parents continually praising sasuke, how he practically saved you, and how he should talk you out of becoming a shinobi, you should focus on taking over the family business, etc

— after it was over, you quickly walked sasuke out, apologizing once again for your embarrassing parents. he tells you there is no need to apologize, but you can see on his face, he is holding something back

“what is it? i know my parents can be annoying, but you're so red in the face,” you laughed, walking beside him.

“no, they're not that bad, naruto is worse,” he said, making you laugh.

“i guess, he seems cool enough to me, so what is it?”

“would you like to get ramen with me, tomorrow?”

“sure, is that all?”

“yes, good night,” he said, turning to walk away.

“good night,” you waved, going back to your house, stopping as you noticed your parent's eavesdropping.

“can i help you?”

“did sasuke ask you to go somewhere with you?”

“yes, we’re getting ramen tomorrow,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows.

“our baby is going on her first date,” your dad squealed like a schoolgirl.

“date?”

“honey, you didn't see the way he kept looking at you?”

“no, i’m going to bed,” you said, weirded out by them.

— all night you found yourself thinking about your parent's words. sasuke was being nice, even if he wasn't showing it on his face. did he like you? could you even like him back? you would have too much competition

— forcing yourself to go to sleep, you would let it go, until tomorrow and take things one thing at a time. from the time that you woke up, to the time that sasuke knocked on your door, were your parent's words. you had never even thought about dating, but here you were questioning everything

— going to the ramen shop, ordering your meals, you began to make conversation, until your food was placed in front of you

“you still have that distant look on your face”

“i-i like you a lot, y/n,” he admitted, his face turning red, as you didn't respond. were you surprised? disgusted? was the feelings mutual? sasuke felt sick to his stomach at the fact that you weren't responding.

“i like you too,” you finally said, smiling him.

“do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“sure,” you shrugged, picking up your chopsticks.

— he eventually walks you home, this time, his hand brushing against your own. stopping in front of your house. your heart is racing, as you peck his cheek, running inside

— your relationship remains lowkey until it is exposed on accident. he had been sick when a few classmates decided to stop by and check on him. he slept downstairs, letting you have his room, when he heard the knock. opening the door, he was met by multiple voices asking if he was okay. making your way downstairs, you froze making eye contact with your classmates. naruto pointed out loudly that you were wearing sasuke’s pajamas before the uchiha slammed the door in all of their faces.

— only for the two of you to eventually let them in, acting as if nothing happened, admitting that the two of you are together, but you quickly change the subject, while sasuke continues to ignore everyone

— sasuke is very cautious and dating isn't even a priority for him, so for him to be so willing to be in a relationship with you, he feels deeply for you

— genin sasuke has a wall around him that only you have managed to climb over, to get to his true nature. around others, he acts like everyone is insufferable, even you

— however, when you spend the night at his place, or he visits you, while your parents are away on business trips, you get to see the real sasuke

— he’s gentle, clingy, and quite sensitive. from the moment that he let you in, his arms around you, as he mumbled a small apology for ignoring you earlier

— he seeks your approval, without even realizing it, did you see him training today? what did you think? did he seem like he was getting stronger?

— he is easily jealous but tries to act like he's not. you, hinata, and kiba are like three peas in a pod, but he can't stand the boy. hinata is very clearly only into naruto, but the wild boy is always near you, taking your attention. he also can't be too sure, but he saw him staring a little too long at you for his liking

— while he is jealous, he can hide it very well because his ego keeps him in check, he is the last uchiha, which made him better than kiba, right? also, you were his girlfriend and didn't even think of other boys in that way

— going back to his gentle and kind nature, while he usually starts immature arguments, he is also the one to want to make up first. you were trying to include him in some fun with your classmates, but he wanted to seem cool, so said no, mumbling how you were being lame. passing a few words, you scoffed, going to hang with your friends, then going straight home

— later that day, your mom called you from your room, saying that sasuke was here. concealing your frown, you invited him into your room, his arms were around you the moment the door shut. his breath shaking, his heart pounding, as he apologized, scolding himself for how he spoke to you

— doesn’t say much during conversations pertaining to if you were married when you get older, your dream wedding, etc. he just states that he will eventually want to restore his clan, when he’s older, while blushing

— leading up to him leaving, he becomes colder, and distances himself. you’ll sleep over and he won’t say a word to you, simply holding your hand, deep in his thought

— during the night that he left, not even you could stop him, completely changing your entire relationship

running as fast as you could, you came to a stop, seeing sakura knocked out, while sasuke was about to walk away.

“sasuke, don’t do this. you’re going to leave everything behind, kakashi, your friends, me. he just wants to use you-

“i have to become stronger, y/n, to k-

“to kill itachi, i know, but this isn’t the way, please”

“i’m sorry”

“sasuke, you promised we would grow stronger together, we would get married and restore your clan,” you cried, as he turned to face you.

“i cannot restore my clan until i’ve had revenge,” he told you, holding your face, as you cried harder.

“take me with you, if you have to go. i can’t be without you”

“no”

“please, sasuke”

“you have your parents, friends, teachers, many who would be broken at the thought of you gone. you can not go where i will be”

“you said you loved me, if you love me, why are you leaving me like i mean nothing to you?” you shouted angrily, tears pouring down your face.

“meeting and loving you has been my greatest privilege. you’ve brought emotions to me that i haven’t experienced since my clan was still alive. my love for you is the exact reason why i must leave you here,” he said, appearing behind you, knocking you out — leaving you and sakura both on a nearby bench, as he left, going to join orochimaru.

[ladysherreeamore]

Nic and Luke are a couple of shit stirrers

They wanted us to believe they are "just friends"

after they heard us saying it's what we needed to hear to stop shipping them but it's too late for that, we've invested 8 months of countless breadcrumbs and some were far too obvious to think it was just a coincidence or that it was about anyone else.

Here are some of the breadcrumbs we can't get over:

-Nic has worn Lukes milk shirt (pretty intimate and shady for her to do if he was dating A

-Luke has posted a Spain dump that is 100% Nic coded

-Nic said "people want me to marry Luke" in her Times article instead of saying he's just her friend

-Luke did his entire People Nic coded including Mimicking Nicola's poses, color coordinating with her, and doing his this or that interview which was Nic coded and also mentions marriage just days from when Nic mentioned marriage

-Nic wearing her claddagh ring (which is Luke coded) in the position in the position of being in a relationship then switching it to her left hand in the position of being married

-Nic has a polaroid of her and Luke on her phone as if they were in a relationship, which would ve weird if either of them were dating other people

-Nic already called it a relationship twice when talking about Luke

-They both liked multiple post from people who were friends to lovers and married

-Luke only going online to post about Nic, like, or comment her post

-Nic including a Kate Spade box that was Luke coded

-Nic posting old photos (suspicious)

-Nic disappearing as soon as Luke came back from Rome

-They both disappeared for Christmas and NYE and the adjacents and friends were shown to be with other people.

-Nic showed herself at dinner at an Italian restaurant (what looked like a date for 2) on her birthday but didn't show the other person or tag them

This is when things started to look suspicious:

-Luke's mom commented on a distant relative's Facebook post convieniently asking about cyprus and Spain (both places connected to Luke and A) and his mom just happened to mention "my son Luke's gf is from Cyprus" like she doesn't know who Luke was 🙄 why did she wait days just to make this comment? Would she say gf instead of girlfriend?

- Deuxmoi posting pap pictures of Nic and Jake that were obviously old and staged

- In an interview, the man just so happened to say "People want you to get married" 🤨 So he didn't know you mentioned that in the Time article? The PR team didn't tell him not to mention that? Why those exact words? I think Nic wanted that question to be asked to try another way to get people off the ship she kept going all this time.

- Luke was away from the spotlight so long and when he finally appears he just happened to bring the one person that would stir some shit up in the fandom and play like he's actually dating her

-Luke didn't post Antonia to his grid and the only way he would somewhat post her to his grid was with a black screen with a black heart and a link to a tiktok (not assiciated with her at all) to Boss business page that had a video of them where she isn't even tagged in 😂🤣💀💀

-Nic just happened to have an audiobook that she supposedly didn't write while it relates to her life with Luke? Are we sure she didn't write it? She does have an english degree! Are we sure this isn't a biography? Why did she showcase this out of all of the audiobooks? Why was it released the day before Luke's birthday? If she wanted the shipping to stop, why agree to this book? She isn't helping her case 🤭

Mr. and Mrs. Shit Stirrer

They have been listening to what we say on our post and on the lives so if you don't want them to know something, don't share it publicly

Things they heard us mention and have done:

- Some have said"Nic and Jake might not be a couple because they aren't holding hands with interlocked fingers" then they started holding hands with interlocked fingers in the next pap photos

- We all said Nic has never said "Just friends" so she said it in her interview after almost 8 months 😂

- Lukola's said "Nic must be in Luke's interview with him because he keeps looking to his left" he looked to his left in a video during the boss event

- We said "Luke may not be dating Antonia because he looks miserable and they aren't acting like a couple" after he goes inside and is abke to look at his phone he started looking happier and acting like a couple while he knew the cameras were watching them

If Luke starts doing anything he wouldn't normally do after we've mentioned it online, i'll know it's because they were watching us 👀

I think some of us may have been too close to the truth or they wanted to distract us from something 🤔

whatever it is i'll play along until the truth comes out

[dadsbongos]

dirty 30... or 40.

1.9 k words / warnings - (first time) anal, age gap/age diff kink, jimmy's your asshole ex, kinda rushed but like stfu

summary - it's curly's birthday! and a surprise guest (jimmy's pretty ex) gives him a surprise present!

“My dad died at forty, man,” the redhead in front of him mumbles. Plump lips stained red with wine and hair mussed in all the places she’s been wringing her fingers through it. Her eyes are a little drifty, empty behind the color and caked mascara, “But you’re in way better shape. So, you’re fine… I think. You don’t have cancer, right?”

Curly clears his throat, shakes his head to both refuse the accusation and try spotting any of his actual friends, “I don’t think I do.”

Jimmy is across the room, standing in the open patio door with his back to the room. An unlit cigarette bit between his molars and a black lighter in the hand he’s using to point out the glass frame. His cheeks are red, surely not from the single beer he’s had, and his face is pinched toward a scowl. He’s getting in a fight.

Perfect.

“Ah,” Curly beams down at the woman, a friend’s friend’s sister he thinks. Fresh out of a divorce. Pretty. One year older than him. Lovely, drunk, off putting, “My friend needs me. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Usually the last two are more his type, but tonight just isn’t his.

She nods and waves him off with the sweetest little, “happy birthday!” he’s heard all night.

Easily cutting across his tiled kitchen through the spread of his friends and family, Curly flocks where everyone else is already staring: troublemaker Jimmy raising his voice at an unseen woman in the backyard. Music filters in through the open doorway, not nearly loud enough to cover the murmuring of people wondering why the man was even invited. Which Curly supposes is fair -he tends to avoid bringing Jimmy to his formal birthday gatherings because everyone showing up is either from work or related to him.

But for some reason, the morning after Curly’s real birthday party with his friends Jimmy insisted upon making an appearance. Said he’d smoke the whole way through, but he’d stick it out.

Right as he’s brushing back stressed blonde waves and gearing up to drone out the classic hey what’s going on? he sees exactly what’s going on. From over Jimmy’s shoulder, he gets a view of the entire grassy block making up his backyard. Cousins and their older kids clog towards the pool, a few aunts lingering by his orange trees, but all the way to the right is his target. All the way to the right, at the very side of his house is a cracking wood gate door hung on rusty, squeaky hinges.

A hand is on that door, it trails around the edge and around to slide its metal bar lock into place before joining the other hand in cradling a yellow polka dot box. A purple glitter ribbon crinkles into the bust of your shirt, shiny flecks decorating your cleavage.

Once his eyes tread up your neck, he spots the beaten pout slithered over your face. Gaze honed on Jimmy -- which redirects his own attention toward Jimmy, the entire reason he’d toddled over this way.

“Get your hooker ass the fuck outta here!” Jimmy doesn’t give you the benefit of anyone’s doubt, either, he fishes you directly out of the crowd with the tip of his lighter. Silver glinting beneath the warm sun, “Bitch, if you- !”

“Don’t pretend we were strangers,” Curly steps past Jimmy, slightly jostling the man with his broader shoulders. Thick stature leaking out at his friend’s side and pouring onto the cement, he waves you over, “It’s been awhile! Glad you could find the place alright.”

Then Jimmy stabs an elbow into Curly’s side, hissing, “You fuckin’ invite this cunt?”

“No,” dismissively, Curly shrugs while watching you slink over. Heels stapling lime green astroturf into the ground as you do, “But what’s the hurt?”

“Bitch,” Jimmy scoffs, reaching behind the both of them to slam the glass door shut. Staunchly avoiding eye contact with you by craning his neck downward, cigarette drooping between his front teeth while he fiddles to light it.

“Good to see you again, Curly,” you all but purr, pushing the box in hand beneath your chest to give him a biiiig birthday hug, “I’m glad Jimmy hasn’t killed you yet.”

“Shoulda fried your ass,” is all the man says.

Curly laughs when he really shouldn’t and ticks his head towards the door, “Want to come inside?”

“How nice,” it’s clear you’re saying that loud enough for Jimmy to hear, “Of course, I do.”

To ease his friend even a little, Curly lingers at the glass door and quietly offers, “Jim’ wanna come inside?”

Jimmy shakes his head stiffly, sucking almost half the life from his cigarette in one breath.

“It’s been awhile, how’ve you been?” he guides you into the kitchen and pops the fridge. Snaking a hand deep into the back for one of those fruity seltzers he knows you drink (Jimmy hates them all and made you chug his entire beer in apology for buying them one night, Curly thinks that’s why he remembers this about you).

Your face, still round with unlived life and sweetness, brightens seeing the crisp white can in Curly’s hand, exchanging gift for gift as you answer, “Pretty good… Nothing crazy. How about you? What’s old age feel like?”

“Old age,” Curly rolls his eyes, twiddling the showy bow you tied, “Jimmy’s older than me, you know?”

“What do you think I called him?”

“‘Babe.’” jimmy hates pet names unless he’s the one giving them.

“You’re so cute,” you slide into his side, expertly dragging one tassel of ribbon to undo the knot. Skin flush against his, your warmth mingling until he can’t surely state where personal space ends and begins, “I meant that. Differently.”

Once the bow is done away, you lift the top of the box to expose a single piece of paper scrawled over with a pink glitter pen and heart stickers.

“I thought it’d be funnier this way, but uhh, happy birthday!” you have to double check Jimmy’s still outside before kissing Curly’s stubbled cheek. A dewy stain left behind, smelling of pure sugar, “You said you liked your ladies direct, right?”

‘ONE FREE COUPON FOR: BIRTHDAY SEX!’

Curly feels winded. Grasp on the box tightening. He blinks down at the scraplet before locking onto you.

Soft and sweet, despite it all. A reprieve from his own bullshit as much as an untouchable boundary. Maybe even more forbidden, actually.

Con: Jimmy had to buy your drinks for you when you two first got together, and that was only a couple years ago.

Con: You’re strangers outside of Jimmy.

Con: You’re Jimmy’s fucking ex.

Con: You’re almost half his age.

Con: You’re Jimmy’s ex.

Con: half his age

Con: jim’s ex

Con: age

Con: ex

pro: you’re absolutely throwing yourself at him.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Curly can’t really look you in the eye so he focuses on the patch of skin between your brow bones. Weirdly, that too is pretty to him.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” you shrug, so disconcerted with taboos and trivialities just like his cousins’ kids, “We’re both single, right? Not like anybody’s getting their feelings hurt.”

“Jim’ would- !”

“Jim’ would kill me if I toasted you,” you’re not sure why they’re friends but you don’t have the energy to ask, especially if it means it’s about to lead you to the holy grail of men, “Forget about him for a second, it’s your birthday.”

Sexual liberty, anti-puritanism, pleasure principle and all that bullshit -- kids these days are all hopped on hormones and fight those causes daily just for the right to fuck as they please (jesus he should stop saying ‘kid’). Sometimes social impurities are set in place for a reason.

But this is your choice, isn’t it?

Besides, you dated Jimmy. How much worse could Curly be for you?

“Break up was pretty ugly,” Curly hisses like this hurts him, and for all you know it probably does. His knuckles are whitening as he holds the (practically empty) box, “He wouldn’t even tell me about it.”

“Do you actually give a shit? Or do you just want me to go home?” you take the box away and make to turn out the door.

Not even a second passes before Curly scrambles after you, after the box. One hand on the corner and one hand on your shoulder as he blushes and pants, “Well- I- well- you know?”

“No clue, Grant.”

You beam up at him, all teeth glowing beneath rosy lips.

“You’re terrible,” Curly steers you towards the stairs, shaking his head the entire time, “You’ll get me killed.”

“Relax, it’s your birthday -you can do whatever you want!”

Like having sex right upstairs from the party composed of all your family and work friends.

“How’re you doing…? Hah -shit- can I move?”

“Uhhh… go slow, please?” you bat lashes up at him, one cheek smushed against the pillow and voice so high and pathetic and pleading.

Curly nods, a loose coil of flaxen hair bouncing in front of his forehead, “Yeah, yeah, of course- of course,” he’s mumbling to himself, mostly, every working braincell dizzying out at the tightness of your ass around him. He slides out one squelching, lubed centimeter before sliding back in, “Don’t wanna hurt you, baby.”

You squeal between pinched teeth, brows knitting up at Curly, “Careful!”

Sighing through his nose, Curly has to swallow down that entitled little ‘it’s my fucking birthday’ he wants to spit on your flaming cheek. Instead he just forces a ditzy, gold-hearted chuckle, “I didn’t believe you at first… about not letting Jimmy fuck you in the ass.”

Pouting, you reach up and claw the back of his neck to yank Curly’s lips against yours, “Don’t bring him up now!”

“But you really are tight,” he grunts, bruising your thigh in his hand -- taking out the urge to restlessly hump your ass in that vicious grip. The other hand slides between your molten thighs until he can swirl leisurely circles into your swollen clit.

A ragged mewl slithers through your throat right into Curly’s mouth as he repeats the tedious little pushes and pulls before he can glide smoothly into your ass. Pitchy whines wheeze after, hardly muffled by the man’s rosy lips. Shiny with mingling spit and swears. When his cock can finally urge past that cinching ring of muscle and you gasp, Curly can only quietly chuckle and nose at your cheek,

“What’s that, baby? What’re you whimpering ‘bout, huh?”

Letting your head hang back, nearly thunking against his darkwood headboard, you shudder and blubber out between ‘ah, huh, mm, uh’s, “So- full- Grant… so fuckin’ big…”

Some sick urge crawls over him before he can choke it down, "Bigger than him?"

You squeal, "Fuck, yes!"

Surging forward, Curly digs pearly canines into your exposed throat -- unsuccessfully attempting to mute his own moans into your skin. Only retreating far back enough to whisper into your hot ear, “Yeah? You like it?” your fucked out needy nod isn’t enough, he needs: “Say it, baby, tell me how much you love me in your ass.”

Fuck the party downstairs, if the music isn't loud enough they can just leave. And Jimmy could croak for throwing away a diamond slut like you.

“I love it!” you warble, breathe sharp, “So good, Grant- thank you!”

“‘Thank you,’” he laughs, sucking each bite in your neck until he’s sure it’ll be stained there tomorrow morning. Fingers dipping into your cunt as syrupy slick gushes out, middle and ring finger crooking toward the pouch of your stomach while his thumb continues to ply your bundle of nerves, “Cum for me, honey, c’mon, it’s my birthday.”

If he wasn’t digging you out with his cock then maybe you’d be able to cackle at how pathetically he whines.

And the best present of all is Jimmy’s controversially young ex letting him fuck her pretty little ass.

[lucysarah-c]

I'll just say, I may be here posting about Mounting Spring, asks etc... But I'm cooking... I'm cooking something everyone asked me for lol

“I like this! This 3D flower pattern is so on trend right now.”

Levi’s eyes were glued to the screen as a freshly painted nail was shown up close.

“Oh, hi! Thank you,” her voice popped up again, and like an animal in pure confusion, he tilted his head to the side.

What are those things popping up? He was completely lost.

“Isn’t it too late for coffee?” she read aloud before grabbing her cup and taking a sip from the straw. “There’s no such thing as too much black or too late for coffee. Plus, it’s girls’ night! What’s a girls’ night without iced coffee or a glass of wine?”

This feels wrong now, Levi thought, taking a sip of his own drink, lazily sprawled on his bed. But when she started showing off her pajamas, that’s when he lost it.

Holy shit... it’s the little shorts doing it for me.

“This is why kids these days have their eyes glued to this shit,” he muttered, almost offended— as if his own mouth wasn’t slightly open and his eyes weren’t stuck to the screen as she vibed to the song playing in the background.

“Have you ever tried… this one?” She winked at the camera, arm in the air, hips moving in a way that Levi quickly guessed was meant to simulate riding. Over the kitchen island.

…I’m definitely not better than a 12-year-old boy.

The chat flooded with messages about how much they loved the song.

Whose song is this?

“Oh! I love that! Ugh, my heart is divided, I want all of them to win! Birds of a Feather is so good, but Hot to Go?” she gushed, listing more names Levi didn’t recognize.

Who are those?

“And the dance?”

What trend? What song? What dance?

Levi felt lost. Completely lost.

“Oh, thank you for the donation! Here, a heart for you!”

She pressed two fingers together in the shape of a heart. Levi tilted his head again, frowning.

How the hell is that a heart?

But before he could keep questioning his entire existence—or, perhaps, his age—her expression shifted. The usual bright smile faded as she read something from the chat.

“Look, if you’ve got a problem with me, just keep scrolling, buddy. Can an admin ban him from the stream, please?”

That made Levi do the exact opposite. He scrolled up through the rapidly moving chat until he found the comment in question. Some idiot had said she owed it to him if something happened because of what she was wearing and doing on screen.

“What’s your fucking problem, dude?” Levi whispered, clicking his tongue. “If a woman has never even touched you, don’t say it so loudly.”

His fingers moved on their own, pressing the guy’s username, looking for a way to reply—until he suddenly let the phone drop onto his chest and stared at the ceiling.

“I need to calm down,” he muttered. Being in this live stream was already too much for him. Getting into an online argument was not the way to go.

How long had he been watching? He wasn’t sure. But in that time, he’d learned that ASMR meant tapping on objects with freshly done nails and whispering, that people voted on live which designs she should do next, and… a whole lot more.

“Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know. That’s me, espresso…”

She sang along to the music, and he felt hypnotized.

“…Did I just spend two hours of my life on this?”

The “Love ya!” came through the speakers as she blew a final kiss before ending the live.

“For fuck’s sake…” Levi muttered, almost offended. “You can’t be that stupidly cute.”

Maybe pop songs were popular for a reason. Maybe that’s why Levi never downloaded any apps on his phone or used it for anything beyond strictly necessary texts. Because explain to him why the hell he was humming at work.

“Since when do you know Sabrina Carpenter?”

Hange appeared out of nowhere, catching him off guard.

Levi had to come up with an excuse. Fast.

“What? Is it illegal for me to know new songs?”

“No…” Hange dragged the word out, squinting at him in suspicion. “But since when do you?”

“Give me a break. I’m not that old. I can get to know new artists,” he brushed it off while brewing himself a tea.

Hange let it slide, but their mind was already working, scheming. They kept talking, mostly about work. But as Levi finished his tea and was ready to leave, Hange casually dropped:

“Espresso?”

Levi frowned. “What?”

Hange repeated the question immediately, as if he hadn’t heard them the first time. But of course, he had.

“Fuck no. You know I hate coffee. Black tea,” he grumbled.

To his shock, Hange chuckled, shaking their head, biting their lip as they held back a knowing smile.

“Aww, Shortie… don’t give yourself away.”

“Huh?”

“Espresso. That’s the song you were humming.” Their grin widened. “I’m starting to think you’re not just listening to new artists—you’re watching new people.”

Levi stiffened.

And for the first time, he couldn’t hide the subtle embarrassed blush creeping up his face.

“Get off my ass,” he muttered, already walking away.

But Hange wasn’t done.

“And I think it might be Erwin’s cute little influencer friend!”

I won't say anything else, let the readers figure it out.

[bohemian-rhapsodys]

Have you ever thought about your funeral? if you're on Tumblr you probably have, so I suggest 1) you get some psychological help 2) pick a song for your friends to play at your funeral. Why? well, why not? it will be your last message to the world, so you have a chance to do something funny.

Don't be boring and play Highway to Hell by AC/DC or Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash, be original, choose something that represents your spirit. If you're not insane enough to listen to music and think "wow, this song would be inappropriate to play at a funeral" don't worry babe, I'm here for you and I'll help you on your way to discovering your ideal funeral song. This will work like astrology for those of us who had ask.fm in the 2010s.

So... if you're here you were probably emo or had an interest in emo or some kind of fetish idk. Don't lie. So you could use songs that are simply recognised as "emo" by all your guests to give a message. Bring Me To Life by Evanescene is a safe choice, although Going Under is another. It's never a bad time to listen to Fall Out Boy, there's Immortals or Sugar, We're Going Down. I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic! At The Disco would be good, although High Hopes is another option, but if your mother is already dead you can play Hey Look Ma, I Made It or if you die having just graduating college then Death of a Bachelor. Still with emo, My Chemical Romance can't not be an alternative: Welcome to the Black Parade, Dead!, This Is How I Disappear or Famous Last Words will prove your death because if you don't get up to sing you've really gone to the other side. You have Hard Times by Paramore too. Anthem of Our Dying Day or Until the Day I Die from Story Of The Year are bangers, think about it.

If you weren't emo or don't like emo stuff (I don't believe you, but don't worry I'm not going to drag you out of the emo closet with your family babygirl) you can joke about whether you will be buried or cremated, even more personalised!

Will they cremate you? Hot In Here by Nelly, Sean Paul's Temperature, Gasolina by Daddy Yankee, Dynamite by Taio Cruz, Burn by Ellie Goulding, Girl On Fire by Alicia Keys, Drop It Like It's Hot by Snoop Dog, Things We Lost In The Fire by Bastille, Blow by Kesha. And of course, Fireball by Pitbull. You're gon' boggie oogie oogie, jiggle, wiggle and dance like the roof on fire with these ones.

Will they bury you? Drag Me Down by One Direction or Get Low by Liam Payne and Zedd, The Box by Roddy Ricch, She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds Of Summer (you'll look stunning in that casket pookie), Six Feet Under by Billie Eilish, Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics, Scream & Shout by will.i.am and Britney Spears (all eyes will be on you, ofc) or Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd.

If not you can use any song used as an internet meme. Like Like a Prayer by Madonna, Goodbye by Bo Burnham, I Wouldn't Mind by He Is We (you can also ask your friends to make a video of your life -like a recap- titled it "saddest video in the world", full of made up stuff) or Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley.

You can also choose one based on the cause of death. Hit by a car? Life is a Highway by Rascal Flats (bonus points if you are a Cars fan), Ride by Twenty One Pilots, Shut Up And Drive by Rihanna. Run over by an hoverboard? Dumb Ways To Die by Tangerine Kitty (yes, the soundtrack to the video game) or Nobody's Perfect by Hannah Montana. Shot? Bulletproof by La Roux, Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benatar, Louis Tomlinson's Kill My Mind or Bon Jovi's Wanted Dead Or Alive. Suicide? Don't Try Suicide or Keep Yourself Alive by Queen, I Think I'm Going To Kill Myself by Elton John, Rock 'n' Roll Suicide by David Bowie, Van Halen's Jump. Trying to save someone from a robbery? Smooth Criminal by Michael Jackson, Help! by The Beatles, Gangsta's Paradise by Coolio and the Avengers theme song by Alan Silvestri. Overdosed at a party? Ricky Martin's Livin' La Vida Loca, Ayesha Erotica's Literal Legend, Pitbull's Time Of Our Lives and LMFAO's Party Rock Anthem. Heart Attack? Demi Lovato and One Direction have a track called "Heart Attack" or Boom Clap by Charli xcx. Slashed to death? (I Just) Died In Your Gun Tonight by Cutting Crew. Eaten by a new Jeffrey Dahmer? Cannibal by Kesha. Or if you died young it could be Die Young by Kesha or We Are Young by fun.

If you like to be ironic the following are for you: Best Day Of My Life by American Authors, Stayin Alive by Bee Gees, I'm Still Standing by Elton John, I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor, Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go by Wham!, Don't Stop Me Now by Queen, Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You) by Kelly Clarkson, Every Breath You Take by The Police, breathin by Ariana Grande, Survivor by Destiny's Child, Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen (spoiler: they won't be able to call you unless its via ouija), Lush Life by Zara Larsson, My Heart Will Go On by Celiné Dion (bonus points if you drowned), So Happy I Could Die by Lady Gaga, About That Time by Lizzo, Wake Me Up by Avicii, Unstoppable by Sia, Safe And Sound by Capital Cities, When Will My Life Begin? by Mandy Moore (who doesn't love Tangled?), Rusted Root's Send Me On My Way, Take My Breath Away by Berlin, On My Own by Ross Lynch (Teen Beach Movie 2 representation here), I Don't Wanna Live Forever by Zayn and Taylor Swift, Kool & The Gang's Celebration, Alive by One Direction (bonus points if you're gay) or Viva La Vida by Coldplay.

Do you want your friends to feel like they're inside a sad edit? Somebody That I Used to Know by Goyte and Kimbra, Big Girls Don't Cry (Personal) by Fergie, The Show Must Go On by Queen, We Go Together by John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John, Katty Perry's The One That Got Away, Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life) by Green Day, I'll Be There For You by The Rembrandts, Cry Me a River by Justin Timberlake, Die With A Smile by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga, Everybody Wants To Rule The Word by Tears For Fears. Or maybe you prefer to joke that you "abandoned" them: All You Had To Do Was Stay, Is It Over Now? or Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift, Want U Back by Cher Lloyd, Problem by Ariana Grande, bury a friend by Billie Eilish, Smash Mouth's All Star, Irreplaceable by Beyoncé, Naomi Scott's She's So Gone, Friends On The Other Side by Keith David (Tiana is the best Disney Princess), I'm Like a Bird by Nelly Furtado, Anna Kendrick's Cups (for the Pitch Perfect girlies), Take Me Home Country Roads but the Lana Del Rey version to make it more random, Eminem's Without Me, *NSYNC's Bye Bye Bye, Let It Go by Idina Menzel (extra points if you died of hypothymia).

Anyway, in any context it's funny to fuck with your guests with This Is What You Came For by Rihanna and Calvin Harris.

Would you like to play a chill good vibes song for them to smoke a joint in your name? Don't Worry Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin, Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles or Michael Bublé's Feeling Good. Have you ever heard the lyrics of Treat People With Kindness by Harry Styles? You should.

Do you like the idea of kidding with heaven/hell? try Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin, Hells Bells or Hell Ain't a Bad Place to Be by AC/DC, Locked Out Of Heaven by Bruno Mars (bonus points if you're gay cause sex won't take you to paradise), all the good girls go the hell by Billie Eilish, What The Hell by Avril Lavigne, Sympathy For The Devil or Knockin' On Heaven's Door by Guns N' Roses, Bad To The Bone by George Thorogood & The Destroyers (you can play the scene from Megamind in the background if you want), Otherside by Red Hot Chili Peppers, Cage The Elephant's Ain't No Rest For The Wicked, Back To Life by Zayn, Heaven by Niall Horan, The Smiths' Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now, Made In Heaven or Spread Your Wings by Queen, George Michael's Faith, Heaven Is A Place On Earth by Belinda Carlisle, A Whole New World From Aladdin (you can use the original version or the Zayn one if you like 1D), Defying Gravity by Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande (to leave a message that you are defying gravity to those who ground you), Almost There by Anika Noni Rose (more The Princess and the Frog representation here). Even Europe's The Final Countdown can be a good bet, as can Hozier's Take Me To Church (again, bonus points if you're gay).

I've named songs from musicals as you may have noticed, and you might like them, so One Last Time from Hamilton, My Dead Gay Son from Heathers or The Whole "Being Dead" Thing from Beetlejuice might hit the spot.

Do you believe in reincarnation or do you want to screw people that you will haunt them by being a ghost/zombie? Oops!...I Did It Again by Britney Spears, There She Goes by The La's, Dark Horse by Katy Perry, Ghostbusters by Ray Parker Jr., Thriller by Michael Jackson or The Phantom Of The Opera main track by Andrew Lloyd Webber (because it gives vampire vibes).

If you're boring you'll probably end up choosing Live And Let Die by Wings because you like the idea of telling your loved ones "let me go", and although it's part of the soundtrack of several films including Shrek the Third (so passing the scene would be funny), why not choose the actual funny equivalent? I'm talking about Let It Grow from The Lorax. "But if this ever-changing world in which we're living makes you give in and cry say live and let die" and "Let's celebrate the world's rebirth we say let it grow" are exactly the same, in case you didn't notice.

And if none of this convinces you: you can always use Boulevard Of Broken Dreams by Green Day and carve in your casket "I never thought being obnoxious would get me where I am today" which is a quote by Billie Joe Armstrong. Or just play Another One Bites the Dust by Queen, or The Office's intro, whatever.

I know if you read to the end you liked the idea, didn't you, sweetheart? So remember that you are too hot and sexy to die, don't do it. Ever. Be immortal like Castiel. Or Godzilla, your choice.

[lale-txt]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 (𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟑: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

♫ Soko - See You in the Dark

Pull you closer just to feel you breathing, try to memorize the lines // Of your skin and your heart beating, two fragile lives collide // Wanna see you in the darkness when I close my eyes

word count: 2.2k

✰ 𝐜𝐰: brief mention of non-sexual nudity (bathing together)

⭅ back to m.list

Kuroo learned to love the rain. It reminded him of the day he met her. 

Now, on this night a few months later, it is pouring again. The weather bureau urged everyone to stay home if they could to avoid getting caught in the monsoon, therefore the antique shop didn’t open its heavy wooden doors and Kuroo’s job at the delivery service called everything off for today as well. It was a blessing in disguise because it meant a rare day off for both of them around the same time. It’s not as if they’re not spending every free minute they got together, but there was something special about having a day off all responsibilities. 

They didn’t get up until noon, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain and Jiji’s soft purrs at their feet (after he woke Kuroo at 5AM for a can of wet food–an unfortunate habit he established with the cat), sharing kisses and secrets in her canopy bed. It was rare for them to sleep alone these days, most of the time they did so only when one of them got sick, and even then they’d often prioritize comfort and shared warmth over not catching the other’s bug. They’ve become inseparable over time and lately Kuroo found himself struggling to remember what his life was like before her. He takes it as a good sign. 

While Kuroo’s apartment was somewhat neat and tidy, paired with the struggle to fill up all the empty space and the high ceilings, hers seemed like an extension of the antique store below them. It’s lived in, an almost sacred space to be invited into. There’s bookshelves up to the ceiling, stacked with heavy and old art books and poetry in languages he doesn’t know, dried flowers in vases and hanging from the walls, a story attached to each. The wooden floor has uneven colors from ornamental carpets that barely get moved around, the sun and time working together to create unique patterns. Withered lines adorn the door frame from a time when her grandmother inhabited this space and carved a mark every time her granddaughter grew an inch or two.

It’s as if he’s discovering a new secret in every corner, like turning a page in his favorite book. 

Jiji rubs against Kuroo’s legs when they’re in the kitchen together, meowing up at him till he puts him on his shoulders while he stirs the pot on the stove. The cat seems to enjoy the view from so high above and Kuroo gets to bask in her soft laughter every time she sees them like this. 

“This cat is manipulating you to no end and you let him,” she huffs with a smile and looks back down at the broken fragments of a plate in front of her on the old kitchen table. Some parts of them are already glued back together, the former cracks now filled and held together by gold. Kuroo never gets tired of watching her work, of fixing things others would’ve thrown out by now. Not her though. Never her. Her hands hold all the patience of the world, tending to the shards as she pours love back into them.

Sometimes Kuroo catches himself thinking that maybe–maybe that’s exactly what she did to him, too. 

The faint rumble of a thunder in the distance causes both of them to look out of the kitchen window. It is only early evening but the sky is pitch black, the storm and rain picking up and rattling against the old windows. Spooked out by the sounds of it, Jiji leaps down from Kuroo’s shoulders and retreats to the safety of his cave underneath the bed, eager to sit this one out. She seems calm though, which rubs off on Kuroo as well. He places a steaming bowl on an empty spot on the table close to her before pulling out a chair for himself, watching how she puts her work aside to pick up the spoon. She pauses as a thought crosses her mind, a small frown on her face.

“Did we remember to bring the laundry inside this time?”, she asks, already halfway up to check. Kuroo reaches for her wrist and gently pulls her back, urging her to sit. He smiles gently, his thumb brushing over her soft skin. 

“Already did that earlier when you were absorbed in puzzling the pieces together,” he reassures her. The heavy laundry basket sits on the stairs connecting their apartments. Kuroo vividly remembers the last time it was pouring and they both ran outside to grab the clothes from the line in the backyard, already too late and getting soaked just as much in return. They sat an hour in his clawfoot bathtub together afterwards, trying to warm up again so they wouldn’t catch a cold. Her laughter was still ringing in his ears when she leaned back against his chest, nestled between his legs with her eyes closed as the hot water engulfed them, his hand splayed across her stomach. He remembers thinking that this might be the closest he ever got to heaven.

The storm outside picks up by the time they’re finished with dinner and the dirty dishes are left to soak in the sink for later. They find themselves huddled together in bed again. All the attempts of coaxing Jiji out from underneath it failed, but he seemed content with knowing they were closeby. He’d get his fair share of cuddles and treats once this passes. 

“You still have gold dust on you,” Kuroo points out and brings one of her hands to his lips, kissing the shimmery fingertips gently. 

“No way,” she protests with a small laugh, her expression softening underneath his caress. She rolls over to her side, head resting against his chest. His heartbeat picks up slightly. “I washed my hands a dozen times.”

“Then I guess you’re just that golden,” he retorts, his arm wrapping around her form and pulling her closer, wanting to feel more of her. He could never get enough of having her like this, her body heat seeping into him, their legs tangled together underneath the covers. 

Another crashing thunder drowns out her reply, and then with one last flicker all light in the apartment dies down. The power went out. This was to be expected. Both of them are quiet for a few seconds before Kuroo presses a kiss to her crown, mumbling “want me to check that for you?” against her hair. Always in fix-it mode, like muscle memory to him.

She shakes her head and only inches closer to him, her hand slipping under the hem of his shirt to feel his warm skin. Kuroo lets out a quiet hum in return.

“No use in plugging the power back just now,” she mumbles and for a brief second the bedroom is illuminated from the lightning outside. “We’ll let the storm pass first. Plus, I don’t want to let you get up and go right now. Stay with me.”

Her last words seem to be laced with something else; a silent question and pleading. The unspoken desire to let the world spin without them for a while, enjoying these dead hours of the day when it can be just the two of them in perfect unison.

Kuroo tips her chin up with one finger. In the dark he can barely make out the silhouette of her but it doesn’t matter, he has memorized every inch of her with his fingertips alone a long time ago. He catches her lips with his, a gentle kiss exchanged between them, lasting for a few heartbeats.

“You don’t even have to ask”, he mutters against her lips, smiling when she steals another kiss from him. He lets her. She can have them all, all of him, his heart served on a silver platter if she wished for it. It baffles him sometimes, thinking how much of his life has gone by without getting to kiss her, until the sun, the moon and all of the stars set the waves in motion that lead to him finally meeting her. 

When he told her back then that it all felt like a dream, one he’s scared of waking up anytime soon, he meant it. Sometimes it felt too good to be true, the way his life turned upside down only a few months ago. It’s in these moments that she’ll cup his face, not letting go until she covers every inch of it in kisses, one reminder at a time that he, too, deserves nice things. Great things, even. And the most miraculous one was right here in his arms, hiding her face in the crook of his neck and mumbling the sweetest words against his skin while the world outside is coming down. 

Kuroo loves her. 

He hasn’t said it out loud yet, but he feels it with every fiber of his heart and soul. He loves her, more than anything or anyone before. Some days it feels a little too big, a little too overwhelming, quite literally taking his breath away, and then she’ll call out his name and slip her hand into his and it drowns out all these loud thoughts again. She grounds him. She gave home a new meaning. 

There’s this warmth about her that draws him to her like a moth to the flame–and he knows it’s not just him. The way she manages to bring people together in the shop never fails to amaze him, her quiet presence a lighthouse in the dark. He always laughs when she describes herself as some kind of hermit, spending hours alone as she sorts and catalogs whichever box of antiques washes up on her threshold that day. It’s almost as if she doesn’t recognize that she’s the center of this universe she built around herself; the bridge between the dead and the living. The one preserving love, till it’s ready to find a new pair of loving hands, cherishing these otherwise forgotten memories.

Then there’s her quirks, adding even more reasons to the endless list of why he fell in love with her. Whether it’s her grumpy expression whenever she has to do something on the computer (an ancient one in her back office which takes twenty minutes to boot up) or her habit of unprompted infodumping about a specific trinket that caught her attention–Kuroo loved all of it. It’s all part of her.

And while the big words still won’t fall from his lips just yet, he has his way of showing her, leaving no doubts that what he feels for her was true, unadulterated love. It’s in the sound of their shared laughter when she rides behind him on the bike, her arms wrapped around his middle and her face pressed against his broad back. It’s in the warm blanket thrown over her form after carrying her to bed when she fell asleep while reading on his couch. It’s in the kisses he trails down the side of her neck after she pushed a strawberry from the backyard between his lips.

He knows it’s only a matter of time till it feels right to put his feelings into actual words. It’s not like there’s a rush or expectations to do so. They do things in their own time, and right now there is not much to do except waiting for the storm to pass, till the sun brings a new dawn and they’ll pick themselves up again, hands intertwined. 

Kuroo presses a soft kiss to her temple, one hand in her hair, the other on her thigh, keeping her pressed close to him.

“Sleepy much?”, he mumbles with a quiet laugh, feeling her breathing getting more steady and her body melting more into him. It isn’t late yet and it's not that long ago since they crawled out of these sheets earlier, but he doesn’t mind. His girl deserves all the rest she craves. 

“You’re just so warm,” she mutters, her voice drowsy. Her fingertips draw small patterns against his collarbones. “Makes it hard not to doze off. Maybe I’m not so different from Jiji after all.”

This draws another laugh out of Kuroo. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, pulling the blanket up a bit higher to make sure she’s fully wrapped up in it. 

“I’m nothing but a fool for both of you, that’s for sure,” Kuroo agrees with a soft chuckle, his head sinking against hers. The sound of the heavy rain drowns out everything else–his greedy heart, the overthinking, the words on the tip of his tongue. He feels content, safe; like he belongs. Like coming home after being on the run for too long. 

“You know what they say about the fools,” she whispers back without lifting her head. Her fingertips dance across his chest now, until they find his stumbling heart against his ribcage. Her palm comes to rest right above it and in this moment Kuroo feels as if gold is poured in the cracks of his heart as well. Mending it, putting the pieces back together; not like something broken but something that’s worth being tended to with all the gentleness of the world.

“The fools, they’re the lovers and the lonely, knowing everything and nothing about love except that they’re full of it.”

a/n: i love writing Kuroo POV so much and i'm so excited to write the last two chapters to this

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[slippinninque]

😏Spat😤

Jatemme Manning x blackfemreader

In which you look for a get-back.

warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+, cursing, soft!dark!Jatemme, chaotic!reader, jealousy, light mentions of violence

When the last man you laid your eyes on ran away, it was then you decided another drink was in order.

All night you’ve been avoided. Men who took the chance of coming up to you quickly excused themselves once they got a good look at you.

The ones you approached were weather at first until they inevitably became spooked before hightailing it to the men’s room. There was only so much you could take and your ego was beginning to bruise.

Like, you get it but damn. Did they have to run like that?

You slunk back to the bar and ordered the stiffest cocktail on the menu.

The mirror back-wall of the spirits showed your pouty expression. All around you were smiles, dancing, and a good time for all. You were done up perfectly for the night, ready to be shown off around the club your man owned. A silky, mid length maroon dress with heels matching with the black flowers in your hair. It was a hit if any of the yearning looks caught from the corner of your eye were to go by.

Just not enough then? Again. Damn.

You were too busy checking the time on your phone to notice someone slipping into the seat next to yours, but you glared into the mirror once you felt a playful elbow to your arm.

“How are you doin’, beautiful?”

You snorted, looking away from the man who smelled as good as sin and looked even better under the low lighting. You turned further away, annoyed, when he used his shoulder this time to bump-bump-bump you some more to get your attention again.

“C’mon, you still mad at me?”

“Is a frog’s ass water tight?”

You heard him laugh. When he laughed a little bit too long, you went to hop off the stool with the rooftop on your mind. A hand shot out, it’s held on your wrist firm enough to keep you in your seat. Your eyes narrowed as you were pulled closer by the stool-leg.

“Can I help you, Jatemme?”

“I said I was sorry, baby.”

“Not as sorry as I want you to be.”

“I am, listen, I should have thought about how it made you feel. If it’s not cool with you, it ain’t cool.”

Seriously? Just because he tucked all the condescending away doesn't mean you couldn't feel it in his tone. You raised your half-glass towards an eavesdropping bartender and gestured for another, “Oh no, it’s fine! You already told me, she’s so-and-so’s little sister, right? So no problem.”

Jatemme smacked his lips, looking over his shoulder when there was a rise in the normal ruckus of the lounge. You turned and scanned the crowd yourself, looking for a flash of a familiar blue jumpsuit. The same one you spotted lingering around Jatemme after your disagreement.

Henry was a connection Jatemme dealt with from time to time when he came into town from Philly. Apparently Henry’s little sister was the type to come up to men to talk about how big of a crush she has on them and ask to wear their chain for the night.

“It’ll be my birthday tomorrow–you can’t tell me no!”

So, you were the one to tell her grown ass ‘No’. Jatemme apparently thought the whole exchange was funny and even went as far as to pretend that he was lifting his chain over his head. That's when you turned around to look for a ‘tat’ to go with his ‘tit’.

Though, after that terrible hour of trying to attract anyone willing to take a wee little risk… it didn’t help your attitude.

Jatemme’s nose ran teasingly along your earlobe and you jerked away, narrowing your eyes at him. Jatemme signed and leaned back, utterly unfazed.

“So, when will this be over with, hm?”

“Once I get my lick back.”

Jatemme snorted and slapped the bartop. The eavesdropping bartender wandered a bit further down,“I thought you saw–ain’t no 'lick back'. Streets are too scared of you, baby.”

“You think Henry would be here since his sister is?”

Jatemme's smile was all teeth,“You know what, I hope he is…” Oop. Sorry to you, Henry.

The drink finally came but Jatemme claimed the first few sips first before pushing the glass over to you fully,

“Oh, so you're grown now? I thought you only drank brown at home?”

“Well, I am in a mood….”

You locked gazes with a nice looking, tall man further down the bar who gave you an appreciative nod. You smiled back and it nearly worked. Then, you watched this man nearly swallow his tongue as he doubled back away from whatever expression Jatemme was making over your shoulder.

A heavy hand spanned across your back, warm and possessive as he whispered into your ear.

“You really think any nigga in here is gonna risk his life for that pretty little smile?”

“Risker niggas–that’s what I need! You’re right, I’ll try leaving the city to see who’s feeling adventurous enough to try and get me to smile.”

“I wish you would–

You turned and met his eyes, your faces only inches apart. Jatemme’s jaw was tight and boo-hoo you didn’t care. The effects of your drink was making you bolder but your mind was set. You finished the drink in your hand and moved on to the next one. It was a bit warm, but it would do just fine.

Jatemme dropped a kiss onto your shoulder and pressed the tip of his nose behind your ear, “I let you have your fun, didn’t I?”

You shivered. One of his knuckles traced down your spine, lightly and you turned to face him finally, “You did,” you confirmed, “But are you as frustrated as I was, yet?”

Jatemme asked back, “You think I’m not going to bury every single last one of them niggas that you went up to tonight?”

“That’d be a waste. You know I barely got more than two words out of them.”

“Mmn. All the same, it’d make me feel better. You must have thought they were cute or some shit…”

Yes. While it was absolutely true that Jatemme loved you and would never hurt you, he still absolutely would threaten you with the wellbeing of others. A nasty form of play that you’ve gotten used to, that sort of doesn’t bother you as much anymore.

A chuckle slipped out but you fixed your face.

Since he found time to sound playful about it, Jatemme was only warning you. Maybe. You never doubted Jatemme’s ability to deliver, either, so you weren't too sure how the odds were evening in his head.

Still, you felt like you were owed justice from the situation with Lil’ Miss.Birthday Girl.

Were you really ready to carry on? Was it even worth it anymore with suddenly more than just your ass on the line? Sighing as you poked your lip out a bit, you looked into the vanishing ice of your drink.

“You hurt my feelings.” You told him. Jatemme said something you didn’t catch, but you did lean into him when he pressed a kiss to your cheek. A little.

“I see that now. I won’t play like that again,” he promised, “I forgot how much of a handful you can be when you get jealous.”

You scoffed and was ready to turn away again, only for Jatemme to be quicker. He pinched your cheeks together and kissed you. Heat flared across your body at the treatment, knowing that it was a display for those watching just as much as it was for you.

Your traitorous heart finally getting what it wanted, Jatemme’s attention, you felt your mood begin to settle.

Jatemme was right, afterall. Even if you were serious about finding someone dumb enough to take your hand, they wouldn’t have made it to the parking lot by the end of the night. Were you done?

While you were thinking, Jatemme helped himself with a hearty sip to your drink, “I especially had my eyes on the one that touched your shoulder, he thought he was slick.”

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about.”

You knew exactly which man he was talking about. The man claimed that there was a fruit fly coming for you and he waved at your shoulder, if his fingertips brushed your skin–you wouldn’t tell Jatemme that.

He had a pretty smile and drugged his feet as his friends came to collect him from your web. That one lingered for a while, catching sight of at least one of your other targets fleeing from you. You wondered where he was now…

“Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go back over to our booth, you’re going to finish your drink and get some food in you. I want to see you dance a little, show off that pretty dress for me. After that…we’re going to go back home and I’m going to fuck that little attitude into a bigger, better one. How’s that sound?”

It sounded like a great time, is what it sounded like. You asked yourself again, Were you done? Now that you’ve had him wrapped around you, bold women and skittish men were far from your mind.

“Sounds fine, I guess.” You made a show of sighing and getting onto your feet. Delightfully, you felt the room sway a bit. Jatemme was taking your hand and everything was so solid.

“Why do I put up with this, I wonder?” You bit your lip at the feel of Jatemme’s hand running along your behind, his tone fonder than the words it was used on.

“Hm, probably ‘cause you don’t want to wonder how someone else will put up with me.” You skipped ahead to get out of his reach and threw over your shoulder,

“You’re going to keep this up all night, aren’t you?”

You squeaked when a mean pinch came to your left cheek, you swatted at his hand behind you but it only went and gave your other cheek the same. The pinches kept coming and then your giggles began spilling over, Jatemme pulling you close with an arm around your shoulders to lead you back to where you belong.

--------

✨Ending notes✨: A little something for our Love 😘 I've been missing messing with Jatemme for a little bit lmao! Tell me what you think of this little spat, thank you so much for reading!!! 💕💖✨

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[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 73

This is a new meaning to "Eating your words"

Look at that giant pillow! This has probably been the most comfortable sleep the party has had in weeks.

Laios offhandedly mentioned he's borrowing some clothes from Thistle. Delgal was wearing something similar but I didn't find any panels of anyone wearing that specific coat. I bet Laios chose to wear it because it has a fur-trimmed collar. He seems to have a light preference for that design element, maybe because it was normal to wear it in his youth.

So. Many. Pillows.

I take it Marcille never drank alcohol before, or at least not in large quantities. She doesn't know what a hangover is.

They're talking about their journey almost being over (again). At least this time, we can already tell how things are going to go horribly wrong. Becoming dungeon lord is not a good idea at all, and we still need to see how the Canaries screw everything up for them.

Laios has developed an understandable fear of the dungeon rabbits. He got spooked by the bird because he thought it might be a rabbit jumping out of the bushes.

Y'know, Laios did refer to Kabru correctly back in chapters 38 and 52 so he remembered Kabru's name for at least a week. First time I recall Laios getting Kabru's name wrong is chapter 66. I want to say there were two distinct days between chapters 52 and now (57-60 and 63-72) but there's room for several days to have passed between them since the party was near the start of the seventh floor in the first day and they had climbed all the way to the bottom the next time we see them.

I wonder what was going through Kabru's mind when he saw Falin. It would indicate the party must have come into conflict with Thistle and very recently too. So now he has to be concerned about whether or not he's too late in stopping Laios from becoming the new dungeon lord.

Kabru pulled his sleeves down to hide his cuffs.

Now that I think about it, Kabru wasn't wearing his armor when he left the dungeon in chapter 38, but he had his equipment on in chapter 53. Maybe someone else carried it back through the portal or maybe he had to buy a new set when he got back.

Laios shook Kabru's hand back in chapter 38. He's not good at remembering names or picking up on people's intents, but Laios has proven he can pick up on behaviours. So even if he can't tell why something is off, he can tell Kabru's handshake is not the same as last time.

Is that what a succubus actually looks like?

I love how Pattadol's fairy always expresses Pattadol's emotions.

Chilchuck is making everything worse. He might as well have said "We used black magic on this journey." And then he never says anything else or tries to stop Laios during the rest of the interrogation.

In an alternate timeline where the lion didn't warn the party about the Canaries, this entire interrogation could have gone differently. The Touden party still needs to be concerned about the elves finding out about Marcille using ancient magic, but they wouldn't have any reason to believe the Canaries are a threat and might be willing to explain the situation.

The Canaries are a task force designed to prevent demons from escaping the dungeons, so the last thing the Winged Lion wants is for its pawns to work with the group that is specially-trained to stop it.

Why is one of the ingredients for bavarois "That one milk"? The only milk I can think of is succubus milk.

Never stops being funny watching Kabru suffer the consequences of his attempts to manipulate Laios.

That slime is the one from floor 1? They've been traveling for about a month now!!

I think Otta does have a point about the slime coming from a graveyard. Who knows what kind of bacteria is inside it.

I'm disappointed Cithis managed to hypnotize them that easily.

For someone with a bad sense of direction, Mithrun is very good at showing up where he's not wanted.

Nothing replaced Izutsumi meaning she was teleported to an open space.

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