#and don't stand the idea of being stuck somewhere

[starppleb]

Have you seen p!Scott with the long hair down?

+ Random Siren AU idea

This idea came kinda random so here little thing that I wrote.

Scott is a Siren. He knows that, and he knows that his song can do a lot of things.

From the possibility to drown people to just don't let people bump into you. The downside is that you will be “connected” to the person and will not be able to leave the victim while they’re alive as a price for the easier lure of the person next time.  Or the benefit for Scott. 

He knows that there is no way he’ll leave Fraction Isles or the close water and non-far land. 

So he uses his powers all the time, mostly for small things like getting the needed info or just to make people leave him alone. 

It took a while until he committed to using his powers. He thought one day he’d be free from his parents, but that never came. So why cut short himself on power and not embrace it? It doesn't matter anyway, it was very long ago that Scott forgot of the desire for freedom.

[gentlethorns]

fuck dude i have got to find a job where i can be self-employed and creative. i cannot be in fucking retail hell anymore

[a-hazbin-reader]

Not me back on my BS 👀

Imagine being Alastor's wife in life and thinking you had the perfect husband even if he was a little distant most of the time. Then he goes missing, and you spend your entire life searching for him despite everyone around you wanting you to move on

When you die and become an angel you just assume that you'll see beloved Alastor again only to be confused that you can't find him. So you spend your afterlife roaming heaven in search of your husband.

It never crossed your mind that Alastor wasn't in heaven.

Until you find out about Adam and his exorcist army going to hell every year, and then you're stuck with the uncomfortable idea that your husband might be a demon. So you find a way to sneak down into hell during the extermination.

You almost regret the decision once you see the carnage and horror happening around you but you're determined to find Alastor. You don't even care that you're stranded in hell once the extermination is over, you had to know if he was down here.

You're easy prey for demons, so you have to do your best to be discreet about your true nature while you try to get information about Alastor. Only to find yourself surprised and confused when people talk about The Radio Demon instead.

"That couldn't be my husband..."

Your husband was kind, gentle, and warm with you while this Radio Demon sounded cruel, manipulative, and cold-hearted. The idea of these two Alastors being one and the same was baffling to you.

But despite your denial, all the facts lead to back to this overlord, a princess and a hotel... so for the sake of your sanity, you decide to find this hotel and put your fears to rest. You hide your angelic features as best you can and head out with your heart in your throat.

The hotel is beautiful and grand yet a bit creepy feeling, it's also rather empty despite it's large size. You feel swallowed up by it as you step inside, looking around for any sign of your Alastor but finding none.

You're just about to turn around and leave, satisfied that this lead was a dead end when suddenly a tall blonde demon woman in a red suit stops you, all smiles and giddiness. Somewhere in between excited squeals and being dragged around by your arm you manage to catch her name.

"You're Charlie..? As in-"

"OH! Don't let that silly title intimidate you! I'm here to help!"

She starts showing you around the hotel and introducing you to the staff and other guests, obviously assuming you're there to stay.

"Ah, I'm sorry, but I'm not here to be a guest... I'm looking for my husband and heard he might be here."

"You're husband? Well, I'm sorry but you've already met everybody here except for Alastor-"

"What about me~?"

You immediately recognize the voice behind the static, turning to see your husband-The Radio Demon-your Alastor-

He takes you in slowly, his smile faltering every so slightly-more of a twitch really- and his eyes widening in surprise once he realizes you're standing in front of him

"Y/N? What are you doing here?"

You're already walking towards him quickly, drawn to him like a magnet and forgetting all about pretending to be a sinner, wrapping your arms around him as you try not to cry with happiness.

"I've missed you so much, Alastor....I never stopped looking for you-this has to be a mistake why weren't you in heaven? I thought I'd see you again after I died but then you weren't there either and-I had to find you!"

He's stiff and awkward at first, hyper aware of your audience and baffled by your angelic appearance. How did you even get down here?? You didn't belong here-why did you try to find him?

Alastor grabs your arms and makes to push you away but one look at your watery eyes and he melts just like when you two were alive. He suddenly pulls you in tighter instead and refuses to look anybody in the eyes, instead focusing on you.

His wife, his innocent wife who had forced her way into his heart back when he was alive was here in his arms. She left heaven to come find a man who had only married her for the sake of keeping up appearances and stayed with her because she made him feel...something close to love...(it was love) (was not) (was too)

You had no business being in hell, not when there were so many ways you could get hurt down here. So many different ways he could hurt you... So Alastor nuzzled his head into your hair, breathed in your scent and pulled away from you.

Sharp claws scraped against your chin as he forced you to look into eyes that were once so familiar to you, his grip loosened slightly as you cupped his cheek. Even now that his true nature was revealed to you, you were unafraid and enamored with him.

"You should've stayed in heaven, my dear. As much as I have missed you as well... you don't belong down here-"

"I belong with you, I'm not leaving when I only just found you again!"

Your stubbornness when it came to him was always something he had liked about you, he was glad to see you still had it. At a loss for how to send you home and some part of him missing your company, Alastor decided to make a selfish decision.

"Alright my dear, you can stay down here and rot with the rest of us if you wish~ But I must warn you~"

Your relief is cut short when he suddenly pulls you in close by your waist, sharp teeth snarling at you in a twisted evil smile as you stare up at him with wide eyes.

"Warn me about what..?"

Alastor pulls you in a bit closer, lips nearly touching yours when suddenly he drops you and you barely manage to catch yourself. He's chuckling and walking away from you, a mean side to him that you've never seen before.

"You're going to have to deal with the real me now, I do so hope you can handle it~"

Spoiler alert: Wifey can match his freak just fine once she gets the hang of how things work 😏 but he's gotta try not to fall for her~

Ugh had this idea in my head for awhile where wifey is an angel who sneaks into hell to find Alastor but has to come to terms with the fact that he's MEAN 😡 and Alastor has to keep up the mean persona because all he wants is to spoil and coddle wifey but HES NOT IN LOVE HE SWEARS HE WAS ONLY USING HER AND ALL THESE FEELING AND URGES ARE JUST SECOND NATURE FROM MANIPULATING HER FEELINGS

Then maybe a part 2 where wifey realizes that a lot of their relationship is one-sided and she left eternal paradise to be with this jerk but oops- Alastor realizes how whipped he is for her and that he actually loves her

☺️

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Three

— Little Big Race

Series Masterlist

wc: 2.4k

Usually, you had a hard time waking your daughter up, and unfortunately she got that habit from you. It was something your mother laughed at a lot whenever you told her about it. She would always say, "you were a troublesome child so now you have a troublesome child but she's cuter."

Today was a different story, Isabella was the one waking you up. "Mama, mama, mama, wake up, we have to see Maxy race today!" She jumped up and down on the bed even though you've tried to tell her not to.

Groaning, you peeked out the blanket to see the biggest toothy smile on your daughter's face and it should've been enough to wake you up. You looked over and saw the time, it was way too early for her to be this energetic. You still have no idea how she musters up so much energy in her little body.

"Bella, qualifying is seven hours away, let's sleep a little longer?" You asked and easily wrapped your arms around your little one. Covering her in the blanket, you hoped to at least get another hour of sleep.

It took her less than two minutes to fall back asleep in her mother's arms. That habit, was from her father who never had an issue of being unable to sleep quickly.

The hour passed by rather quickly, and this time Isabella woke up as soon as she felt you getting off the bed. The giddy excitement was still there and rightfully so but it was a little calmer than an hour ago.

Since you only had to order room service instead of cooking breakfast, the morning was a lot less stressful for you. As soon as Isabella was finished eating breakfast, she ran to her little suitcase and took out her outfit for the day.

Once you helped her change, your little girl was decked in a blue dress with red glittery clips in her hair according to her wishes, her reason being, "Maxy always wears red and blue."

Soon enough, you two were enroute towards the track. You had gotten your passes when you first checked in at the hotel because Max had dropped them off before you arrived.

It was simple enough finding your way towards the entrance, but it was a whole different story after. There were so many people, albeit less than outside, and they all looked like they knew where they were going.

Holding Isabella's hand tightly, you continued walking in hopes to figure out where you're supposed to go. "Where's Max, mama?" Your daughter asked but you didn't have an exact answer.

"Hopefully somewhere around here, angel." You contemplated calling him, unsure whether or not he'd be busy. But then again, if he is then he won't pickup so there was no harm in trying.

Keeping your gaze on Isabella, you called him. After two rings, he picked up, "Hi, I was just about to call you, are you here?" You could hear him panting on the other end as if he ran to pick up your call, but you decided not to comment on it.

"Yeah, I don't know exactly where we are though," He laughed on the other end, "it's okay, just describe the area and I'll come find you." 

You did as he instructed and Max was walking towards you within three minutes. However, he was not alone, there was another man in different coloured teamwear walking next to him. 

Isabella's smile grew when she spotted Max but since you were holding her hand, she couldn't run towards him. Max crouched down and held his hand up so Isabella could give him a high-five. 

The man standing next to him the same, and Isabella was mesmerized, gasping, "Daniel Ricciardo." She probably butchered the pronunciation of his surname but he didn't seem to mind.

Max shook his head, "no, Isabella, he's Daniel Avocado." The comment made Daniel burst out laughing, and you couldn't help but join in. 

The sound of your laugh directed Max's gaze towards you and once it was on you, it was stuck there. Even when Daniel nudged him and asked, "introductions?" 

A few seconds passed by without Max saying anything so to save him from further embarrassment, Daniel decided to take the liberty of introductions. Once you introduced yourself to him, Daniel had a knowing smile on his face. 

"So you're the one who's daughter ran away because of Max," he chuckled while your cheeks grew red in embarrassment, "unfortunately yes, how did you hear about that?" You asked, having an idea that Max probably told him.

But the answer Daniel gave you was surprising, "I've heard the story around ten times so far since someone keeps bringing you up in conversations." 

Max's eyes widened but you laughed, "is that so? Well Isabella hasn't stopped talking about Max either." 

You and Daniel collectively looked at Isabella who was still starstruck by not one but two drivers, the shock of being in the paddock finally catching up to her. Then the two of you looked at Max, who was also unusually quiet according to Daniel, and burst out laughing once again.

"Looks like both of them had too much to say and now it's not enough," Daniel commented and you agreed with a nod. "Your daughter is adorable by the way," he added to fill the silence and nudged Max harshly when you looked at her. 

"How about I show you around?" Max finally found his words, and you looked at him skeptically, "I don't want to take up your time if you have something else to do." 

"I've got some time, plus it would be very unfair if you came all the way here and I didn't spend time with you and Isabella." Max didn't wait for a response from you, instead turning his gaze towards your little one, "right?" 

Isabella gave him a sharp nod, and you couldn't help but smile as you saw the two interact. "Alright then, lead the way." 

It took him thirty minutes to show you around the paddock, but he mainly focused on the RedBull Energy Center, as that was where all the driver's guests could relax and enjoy some team catered meals.

Isabella asked him all sorts of questions, and Max even stopped for an extra minute to grab some noise cancelling earmuffs for her little ears. 

Your eyes widened when he placed them on her head, mentally cursing at the fact that out of all the things you could've forgotten, it was the headphones. Once again, before you could hide your expression, Max noticed it and muttered, "it's okay, that's why we have them here." 

He explained that since it was his home grand prix—something you didn't know until he mentioned it—most of the fans were rooting for him. 

Then, Max was approached by someone from his team, telling him that he was needed back in the garage. The rest of the day passed by quite fast. You watched qualifying from the hospitality as per Max's suggestions. 

As the session continued, you slowly understood some of the terminology, but it would still take a few more races to fully understand what is going on. On the other hand, Isabella clapped happily every time Max's RedBull passed by, and you even joined her after a few times. 

—

It is race day. You and Isabella were back in the paddock and this time you had figured out where to go. You were proud of yourself for navigating the area after only being shown around once. You reached later than you hoped due to the traffic, but fortunately, there was still a while before the race began.

Max had told you to meet him near the garages and when you neared them, you could see him speaking expressively to a small group of people. Based on their outfits, you knew they were drivers. The only one you remembered other than Max was Daniel, as you've met him yesterday. 

"Mama, walk faster," your daughter urged, her pace fastened as soon as she spotted Max, tugging you along. You were glad that she didn't leave your hand. 

"Maxy!" Your daughter cheered as soon as she was in hearing range of the drivers. They all collectively turned towards the noise, Max's face lighting up as soon as his gaze landed on you two. 

"Isabella!" Max cheered with the same amount of energy, and you let go of your daughter's hand so she could run up to him. 

He greeted you as well, taking a step closer to you and with a sheepish smile on his face he spoke, "I got something for her." Max said quietly enough so Isabella didn't hear him, since he wanted your approval first before he revealed his surprise. 

You nodded, encouraging him and with a big smile he placed a cap on Isabella's head, surprising her. She took it off to look at it and when she saw his driver's number on the cap, she gasped.

Then, she placed it back on her head and turned to look at you, "mama, look!" You chuckled, "very nice, what do you say, angel?" 

Isabella didn't think twice before hugging him, "thank you, thank you, thank you!" 

Max held out another cap for you, and before you could say anything he added, "I need everyone to know who you're cheering for." Deciding to tease him you responded, "what if I want to cheer for Daniel?" 

You saw his smile drop, making you break out into a smile to let him know you were just joking. You pointed to the number on the cap, "number 1 driver, yeah,” you stated, the implication of him being the number one driver both literally and figuratively was heard loud and clear.  

"Mama," Isabella grabbed your attention, pointing at the driver in a red suit that you've yet to be introduced to. "Lightning McQueen," she added, making the group of drivers around you laugh at her words. 

Charles pointed at himself, "me?" he looked at you for an answer and you nodded, "yeah, can you really blame her though, you're all decked out in red." 

As if you were lying, he looked down and then shrugged, "fair." 

Isabella was content with being the center of attention between the drivers that you now know the names of; Charles, Lando, Alex, and George.

Max pulled you aside. "I wanted to ask you this yesterday but we didn't have time. Do you think Isabella would like it if I let her sit inside my car?" 

Your mouth quite literally dropped open, and you had to blink a few times as if it would make you understand his words better. "Huh?" is all that left your mouth. 

"My car? Is she going to like it?" He asked again and you nodded, "she would love that, are you even allowed to do that?" 

He chuckled at your question, "it's my car, I think I can do anything I want with it." 

Before he could turn around to speak to Isabella, you reached for his hand to stop him, "Max, you have no idea how much this would mean to her." He nodded in understanding, "make sure to take lots of pictures." 

You heard her squeal in excitement as soon as Max asked the question, watching her eagerly nod. You followed them into the garage, heart warming at how Max held Isabella's hand the entire time. 

With the way Isabella hasn't stopped smiling, you would think her smile was permanently stuck on her face. You took loads of pictures, a few even with Max's helmet on her head that was way too big for her. 

Even the team principal, Christian Horner, stopped for a moment to look at the joy on both Isabella and Max's face. It would make one think that it was Max’s first time around a F1 car as well.

By the time the race started, Isabella's energy had significantly drained, but she remained awake for the entirety of the race. Watching the race from the garage unlocked a different joy on her face, and she would cheer when Max came into the pits for fresher tyres. 

As soon as her eyes drooped, something would occur in the race that would cause her to brighten up again. Max barely had to overtake as he started off in pole position, only needing to pass the other drivers after coming out of the pitlane. 

Just like Isabella, your eyes didn't waver away from the race despite how fast your heart was beating due to nervousness about the drivers' speeds. 

You knew they were the best of the best, very professional, but ever since you've gotten to know them personally, you couldn't help but worry for them. Especially Max. 

Turns out, you didn't have to worry too much as Max crossed the finish line first, winning the race in front of his home crowd. 

Everything after that was a blur. You just remember Christian leading you towards the crowd underneath the podium, ensuring that no one had the audacity to push or shove you. Isabella was safely in your arms, watching the celebrations with wide but sleepy eyes. 

As soon as she saw the trophy being handed to Max, she rested her head on your shoulder and was out like a light. 

Once the champagne was sprayed, you made your way through the crowd, walking towards the exit. Your daughter was sound asleep and you didn't want the noise waking her up and disturbing her much needed rest. 

Other than the one extra hour of rest in the morning, she hadn't taken any naps since she was mesmerized by everything around her. Now, since it was all over, all you focused on was getting back to the hotel. 

As soon as Isabella was comfortably in bed, you decided to take a shower to wash away all the built up and dried sweat. While you were busy, your phone rang with two calls, both from Max, that were inevitably sent to voicemail. 

After your shower, you ordered some food and turned on the tv in the other room. Around fifteen minutes went by before there was a knock on your door. Thinking it was room service with your dinner, you opened it without checking who it really was.

Max was stood on the other side, changed out of his race suit but still in a Redbull polo.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @minskzy @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @loliaa @distancedss @bache3 @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @lexiecamposv @sadg3

[simonisferal]

you said you liked it — scaramouche x gn! reader

synopsis: he doesn't even like you that much. wait...he does. fuck.

warnings: just pure fluff, scara being scara, mutual pinning / not an established relationship, inspired by apple cider by beabodoobee (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

notes: a little shorter than I wanted it to be but i was sleepy / i started playing my sleep playlist and i woke up instantly to write this 🫡 / not proofread but then again none of my works are so

you said you liked chocolates. scaramouche was never a sweets person anyways!

whatever you liked, whether it was plain chocolates or some fancy, expensive ones, he managed to bring them to your hands every few occasions. they were always wrapped in a soft lace, delicately delivered straight to you (he tried to ignore every other person that attempted to speak to him) just so they don't melt, he says.

if you're not picky, he even lets you eat the chocolates others gift him. why? he's not sure but food is food. he notices which sweets you ignore, eat, practically chow down on for future references. you know, in case he needs a human garbage disposal!

scaramouche doesn't stop there; he should've, but he doesn't.

"y/n. i'll leave you to it." he's vague as shit as he sets down a bag of sweets—not just any sweets, flavors and consistencies he knows you'll like—on your lap.

you eye them suspiciously. "what's the occasion? or is it another request for my talent of eating?" you somewhat joke. scara does not find you humorous.

he crosses his arms, already walking away and waving you off, dismissing the question. "you like those, don't you? go on and eat then before i change my mind."

you said you liked handmade gifts. scaramouche was gifted with craftsmanship, fortunately.

he held a sewing needle, slipping the thread in through the small hole and tied it. he ignored your attentive gaze at his hands. he skillfully worked, fixing up a patch on a shirt you had ripped. why was a piece of clothing so important? you had plenty of other things to wear (more than you'd like to admit but he can basically see your closet from his room).

your eyes never left the male's work while he finished. he snaps the thread and places the needle somewhere on his table. "there. you happy?" he lifts up the shirt and you quickly take it in your arms.

"thank you, thank you, thank you!!" you hold the simple clothing item close to your chest and scaramouche can't help but wonder why.

he scoffs, standing up and beginning to clean up after his simple task. "i don't know why you're so stuck up on a shirt; you have plenty of others."

you laugh. folding the shirt and setting it on your lap, you look at scara. "well i don't expect you to remember but this one's actually yours."

"and why do you have one of my shirts?" he refutes.

"because i like it." such a bold sentence coming from a person who ripped the fabric a few minutes ago but scaramouche accepts it. he sighs after a while—and after cleaning up his mess, he waves you off again.

he can't seem to say no to you, it's infuriating. "just don't stain it. i might need it later."

you said you liked nice guys. too bad scaramouche is not that. but hey, a personality change never hurt anybody. besides you deserve it—not many people can tolerate him at his highest.

he, besides giving you simple gifts, gave you words of encouragement. if you ever wanted to pursue anything (as stupid as it may be), he'll support you... even if that said support consists of constant berating and complaints, he's not going to stop your idiotic yet passionate mind.

"go on." he mutters, his eyes only on you as you attempt to do something stupid again. holding a brush up to a canvas, you merely scribble the page with a terrible artistic view. a red sky, a pink tree, a rose ocean—just what was your idea?

"you can't be colorblind, can you? if you aren't, this is just plain embarrassing for us both." you pout, not turning to see his assumed look of 'i told you so'.

you attempt painting again, just adding a few more splashes of color onto the 'ruined' canvas. "you wouldn't get it, scara. it's simply an artistic thing!"

he scoffs, like he always does, before sitting up from his chair and looking over your shoulder. not too many details were added but the pink tree had blossomed quite well and the rose ocean finally looked like a simple mirage rather than an actual pink-colored ocean. "not bad," he mutters.

"could be a whole ton better but who's judging?" scaramouche teases. you narrow your eyes at him with a pout,

"you are!"

you said you liked cheesy, romantic dates. it was a stupid request to fulfill, honestly. you practically bored him on the way there. but like always, he can't say no to such a pretty face.

it wasn't at all what he was expecting. he expected (with someone as terrible taste as you) to be lead towards a fast food chain or a crowded, elegant place.

it was a small picnic at the beach.

you two sat under a tree for a while, just conversing with each other. "what are you planning, y/n?" scaramouche raises an eyebrow and looks at you. you just looked back at him with a smile, a smile he wish didn't make his heart burn by just looking at it. "it's a surprise." so vague. too vague for the male.

he scoffs. it's obvious he wants to ask more questions but he doesn't have the heart to interrupt such a peaceful moment between the two of you. he just sits quietly beside you, watching the sun fade, the chocolates melts, the petals from the tree—a cherry blossom tree, he noted, fall down, and the breeze grow sweeter.

the sun hit scaramouche like an angel. his violet eyes looked like they were glowing like stars. he looked heavenly. his lips look soft, his hair was well-volumed, his presence was so fulfilling. he was so... perfect. "y/n, you can stop staring."

"i know," you whisper back. when did you suddenly become so sentimental? the jig was up.

the chocolates you loved so much, the 'date' you wanted so badly was there. what else did you want, what else did you like? "what is it?"

"you're nice. you're a nice guy."

scaramouche scoffs, "so?"

"i like nice guys." you both stayed quiet for a while. your eyes wandered everywhere, to his eyes to his subtle frown to his outfit while scaramouche didn't dare to look away from your eyes. they had a sense of longing he never knew they could have. did he have the same look? a look of longing? longing for someone who'd be with him forever?

did he have a look of yearning? yearning for someone who'd stay and love him, like all those who promised so distantly in the past? would you stay with him if he asked? would you promise to keep your promises to him, to allow him to trust you as you do him?

so many questions and so little answers, lesser time now as he thinks all these overwhelming thoughts.

"scara?" you call out.

scaramouche didn't dare speak louder than a whisper. "yeah?"

you said you liked him.

[crimsoncandy04]

how do you like the idea Sex in a small space with Kabukimono, Wanderer, Scaramouche

I've never done it before but if it's just sex in a tight space I think I have something that might suit your tastes.

So get it while it's hot! 🔥💕🫦

(POV: You were exploring an old domain with The Wanderer before accidentally falling through the floor and also the fabric of reality apparently?

Now there you were, stuck in a VERY uncomfortable closet sized stone hole in the ground deep within a dark underground labyrinth located somewhere in the middle of the Sumeru desert.

Along with Wanderer and two of his previous selves that he once believed were wiped from existence.

Scaramouche and Kabukimono.

Scaramouche sat down on the ground cross-legged just beneath you. You were stuck on your knees just above him as Wanderer glared down at you both while being uncomfortably squished against your left side. Poor kabukimono was practically on top of you and stuck between you and the wall on your left.

And it was getting unbearably hot in here with everyone so close now.

"Bitch get your ass out of my face." Scaramouche barked suddenly as he tried to push you away. Only to make you thrust against the wall in front of you and yelp at the sensation of him grabbing your hips and shoving you.

Normally you'd be mad but something was terribly wrong here.

It was so hot. It felt like the air in this place was doing something to your head... and body. Instead of retorting back, you just went quiet and tried not to think about how Wanderer's crotch was so perfectly level with your face in here.

So hot.

You feel Kabukimono suddenly reach out and touch your cheek.

"Are you sick? You're burning up." You looked up at the kind version of Wanderer. His eyes held nothing but concern for you as you lied and shook your head.

Archons please don't touch...

"No no. I'm okay I p-promise." You felt your heart race suddenly as you realized that the air around you all was full of some strange magenta colored mist. It smelled so sweet so...hot.

Wanderer noticed too though he seemed as unaffected as the others.

"There's something in the air. Y/N seriously are you okay? Don't lie. You look like you're about to pass out." Wanderer tried to adjust himself in the tight space only to cause his clothed member to brush your face.

You mess up then and feel a small moan escape your lips.

"What the hell!?" Scaramouche snaps up at you. His indigo eyes burning a hole through your forehead practically as you tried to lie and despite how your words were slurring together now.

So hot...so... hungry.

"Please don't move Wanderer. I don't know what's happening right now...!"

Kabukimono tries to shift in his standing position instead.

"Here maybe I can help then. Do you need me to try and move instead?"

"No!" You practically scream. Not wanting to accidentally cause your body to feel any more friction than it already had.

Suddenly you feel a hand cupping your pussy.

"oh for crying out loud. Here. Is this what you wanted you stupid slut?" Scaramouche hissed as his fingers brushed your lips through your panties. You gasped and felt your hips move a little as your cheeks flushed an even more apparent shade of pink.

Scaramouche then slid two fingers inside your already wet canal. You moaned softly as he scissored your walls and mocked you for being such a pathetic and disgusting whore. You didn't care. It just felt so good ~

You feel Wanderer turn your head a little then. Using his hand to push your face against his erection. You kissed the hardened shape delicately and licked the outline through his shorts trying to get him to pull it out. Finally he did.

And it was just as Scaramouche grabbed your hips from below again and thrusted his own cock up into your soaking depths. You didn't want to leave kabukimono out and reached with your free hand to tease him as well until he followed behind the other two and removed his length for you to enjoy as well.

You all were squished in this crawlspace and had no way out. However as Scaramouche fucked into your oversensitive sex from below, and you alternated between sucking off Kabukimono and Wanderer on either side of you, you felt like you were exactly where you needed to be.

Wanderer kept a firm hand on the back of your head as he fucked your throat, Kabukimono sounded like he was losing his mind as you stroked him slowly, Scaramouche grunted as he forced you to take his manhood while he pinched your nipples.

You had no idea how it all happened or why, but as the trio spent the next few hours covering your sweaty body in hot cum, you found yourself no longer caring if you ever left or not.

[void-wolfie]

Forty-Five Days

summary: you come back on Valentine's Day after being away on a work trip.

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

words: 1.89k

tw: very fluffy (is there such a thing as too fluffy?), kissing, light making out, let me know if i forgot anything

a/n: happy valentine's day everybody! tried making this as fluffy as i could, not sure how i feel about this one, let me know what you guys think lol

Jenna checked her phone again; 5:15 pm, no new texts. You should be here any minute now. She looked around the crowded lobby, but there was no sign of you yet.

You'd just finished filming for a big project, somewhere in New Zealand. It was a long process, over five months to film. You'd only seen each other for a few days during the holidays and before you had to leave again.

She was excited, to say the least, and nervous. She hadn't seen you in over a month. It made her wonder how you managed to go all that time without seeing her when she had to travel.

Home just wasn't the same without you.

You searched the lobby for any sign of Jenna. It'd been forty-five days since you last saw her, which roughly translated to 1,080 hours or 64,800 minutes. And each minute you were away from her felt entirely more agonizing than the last. (and yes, you did all the math on the plane, it was a very boring flight).

Finally, your eyes settled on a short brunette standing off to the side, away from the crowds. Tan and layered in freckles, her sunglasses were on and one of your jackets was draped lightly over her shoulders. She had a cheeky grin, and you knew she'd been watching you look around cluelessly for at least a few minutes.

You tightened your grip on your luggage, breaking out into a jog to go greet your amazing girlfriend. The second you were close enough you dropped your bags and nearly tackled her into a hug.

"I missed you so much." You whispered, still hugging her as if it were the last thing you might do.

"I missed you more." You could hear the playful smile she wore, her happiness more contagious than the plague. But more than that, you could hear the relief in her voice.

You squeezed her even tighter. You needed this. You needed her. Forty-five days was too long.

"Baby, you have to let go," Her arms gently tugged at your hands, she didn't really want you to let go, but you two couldn't exactly stand around in the airport all day.

"Nooo, just a little longer," you whined, sounding a bit like a child about to throw a tantrum.

"Come on, you can hug me all you want when we get home, ok?"

"Fineeeeee," You sighed. You didn't exactly mind letting her go, knowing there'd be plenty of time for cuddles later, but it was always more fun to be dramatic.

The minute you let go of her, she stuck her hand out, a bouquet of roses held out in front of you, "Happy Valentine's Day, baby."

"You got me roses?" You weren't exactly the type for flowers, but the idea of Jenna going out of her way just to get you something had a way of making your heart melt.

"Yeah? I know you don't really do the whole flowers thing, but I saw them, and I thought of you so-"

She didn't even have to finish her sentence. Before she even had a chance to stop and ask what you were doing, you had hooked your finger into one of the belt loops of her jeans, tugged her in close, and kissed her with all the pent-up passion you had.

God those lips. That smile. Her scent alone was enough to drive you mad. Your whole world could be falling apart, and you couldn't care less as long as you had her in your life.

The kiss didn't last long, much to your disappointment. It did, however, leave Jenna a blushing mess, which was more than enough to leave you satisfied.

You reached into your coat pocket and pulled out a necklace, holding it out for Jenna to see, “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

It was a simple necklace, an ivory pendant held by a plain black cord. The pendant looked similar to a vertical infinity sign, except instead of one twist, there were two.

Jenna looked it over in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship and the tiny details.

“The symbol is called a pikorua, it represents two people coming together for eternity. Two people bonded by friendship and loyalty.”

You bounced on your heels nervously. You weren’t a hundred percent sure she’d like it, but the meaning behind it was too good to pass up. You wanted Jenna to have a reminder of your love, especially when you two were apart for work.

“I know it’s not much, but-”

“No, no, no. I love it, baby.” She looked up at you and gave you that smile, the one that made you weak in the knees and your heart all melty. “It’s beautiful.”

She gave you a small peck on the cheek. And despite the heavy kiss from just minutes ago, the small action still made you blush, your heart swelling with feelings you couldn't comprehend, "Come on, love. Let's go home."

Her smile. Her laugh. Her eyes. God this girl was your kryptonite.

You walked through the front door and immediately your jaw dropped.

"Jenna... is this?”

“Yeah…”

“…for me?”

“Yeah…”

“You did all this?"

“Yeah…” Silence. Tension filled the air. You could practically feel the nerves radiating off the girl next to you.

"I wanted to surprise you..." she fiddled with her hands, wringing her fingers nervously as you admired the scene in front of you. "Is it too much? It is, isn't it? I'll clean it up-"

"No!" You said it too fast, too forcefully, "No," You tried again, much more calmly this time, "I love it, baby, it's awesome. I just- I didn't expect this at all."

The house was completely decorated, like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. Candlesticks decorated tables and hallways, lighting up the whole house with a soft yellow glow. Red and pink balloons lined the doorway and silver garland hung from the ceiling. The dining table was adorned with a white tablecloth and a vase filled with more roses. A ‘welcome home’ banner hung over the dining table, swaying slowly as you stared at the painted black letters in awe.

This Girl.

She did all this… for you? Just to surprise you?

“Baby?” You felt her hand on your arm. You hadn’t even realized how long you'd been staring in silence.

You turned around to see her looking at you, her expression a mix of emotions. There was hope and fear, she was so worried you'd hate the decorations, she wanted you to like them. But at the same time, you could see the love in her eyes, whether you loved it or hated it, she only wanted you to be happy.

Your body seemed to move on instinct.

You leaned forward and kissed her without even thinking about it. Your hands gripped her waist and pulled her in closer, anything to be near her. Her hands seemed to naturally find their way up your face, cupping it as she kissed you back.

Forty-five days was too damn long.

The kisses turned into something more. Before you knew it, Jenna had you pushed up against a wall, her hands roaming under your shirt, leaving goosebumps wherever they traveled. Her lips were at your jaw, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. It took everything in you not to melt under her touch.

“Baby?” You breathed out, not sure how much more you had in you before your knees would give out.

“Bedroom?” She already knew what you were going to ask, her lips pressed into the base of your neck sent chills down your spine.

“Please.”

You woke up to the sunlight peeking through the window, filtering in between the blades of the blinds. You groaned, tossing and rolling back over in bed. Stupid sun… all you wanted was to sleep in…

You rolled over only to notice the void in the bed. Something was missing… or more like someone. Where was Jenna?

“Baby?” You called out, your voice hoarse and rough from sleep.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes taking in the state of the room. Candles all burnt out, clothes strewn in every direction, rose petals covering every surface like confetti, half the bed sheets covered the floor while the other half haphazardly covered you.

You could hear noises coming from somewhere outside the room. What is she doing?

You picked up one of Jenna’s t-shirts from the floor and threw it on before stumbling out to the living room. You followed the noises to the kitchen.

Jenna was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a sports bra, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She was working away in front of the stove, the smell of food cooking and something sizzling catching your attention.

You strolled up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your head on her shoulder. You didn’t have to look to know she was smiling, you could tell, it was in her body language. The way her muscles seemed to relax with you around, the little laugh she let out under her breath, the way she tried not to move too much so she wouldn’t jostle you around-

“Baby?” Her voice pulled you from thoughts.

“Hmmm?” You barely mumbled, your head still hazy with exhaustion. Between last night's activities and the jet lag from the flight, you were going to need at least a week to catch up on sleep.

There was that cute little laugh again, so quiet you would miss it if you weren’t paying attention. “What are you doing up, love? I figured you’d be asleep for at least another hour.”

“I missed you,” you wrapped your arms around her a little tighter.

“I missed you too, baby.” She leaned over, kissing you on the cheek before going back to whatever she was doing.

Your eyes were half closed as you stood there, clinging to her like a koala with your face nestled into the side of her neck. Despite the fact you were standing, you were comfortable enough that you could almost fall back asleep, if it weren’t for her little movements, you probably would’ve already.

“What’re you doing?”  your voice came out all muffled from talking into her shoulder, but she seemed to understand what you meant.

“Making your favorite. I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” She could see you nodding off on her shoulder, it made her smile. She always found you extra cute when you were sleepy. “Why don’t you go back to bed, babe? I’ll be there in a bit.”

“No.” You meant to sound firm in your decision, but between your morning voice and how tired you were, you sounded like you were about half asleep already. Which wasn’t too far from the truth.

“Babe, go to bed, I’ll be there soon,” She chuckled, smiling at your resolve to stick with her even if you were basically already sleeping on her shoulder.

“I’m fineeeee. I’m going to stay right here and help you cook.”

And you did. You stood right there and ‘supervised’ as Jenna cooked one of your favorite meals, pancakes and bacon. Normally she would’ve pushed you out of the kitchen for being in her way, but after not being together for so long, she didn’t mind the intimacy.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

I was wondering if you could do a little drabble where the reader breaks her leg in an accident and Arthur goes to help her by picking her up and taking her home. Please I want Arthur to hold the reader like a princess! 🥺💞

Here you go sweet anon! 🍑

Yes this was supposed to be a drabble but I got a little carried away as always and this ended up being a bit longer than expected. I hope you won't mind!! 🙏

˖✧To pick up a Peach

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Warnings/Tags: Description of a broken leg and physical pain, otherwise this is pure fluff. Arthur being the sweetest gentleman he is in high honor. ✦ Words: 2,4k ✦ a/n: I don't know why but I got carried away with this one and I ended up really loving it. I changed it just a little bit and made Arthur carry you to the doc, cause you know, he wouldn't let you go home without minimum care. He's like that. I made the reader some sort of farmer's daughter AU? Anyway, hope you'll still like it, Anon! Credits. Arthur's pic is mine. Other pics are from Pinterest. Little doodles made by me.

You were screwed.

That’s the thought that was stuck in your mind. Your horse, which the stableman had sworn to you was a gentle and peaceful creature, turned out to be a wild furious animal who was extremely nervous and appeared to have only one idea in mind: go back to where it belonged, the plains of the Heartlands.

You were simply on a ride to Valentine. You would often go there with your sisters on Mondays and Sundays to sell what your family had harvested in your native town, Emerald Ranch, setting up your little stand next to the butcher’s. Usually, these trips were pleasant and you had grown to like them, relieved to see something else than the gloomy and weird atmosphere that had settled in your village.

But your treacherous companion had decided, after an encounter with a snake somewhere near the Twin Stack Pass, that enough was enough. After rearing up as if his life depended on it, he took off at full speed, ejecting you with a crash to the ground, making the wicker basket containing all your precious products fly up in the air like a colorful firework of fruits and vegetables.

An ominous, muffled creak as your body lands.

Stunned, breathless, it took you a few seconds to regain your composure, long gone and galloping off with your horse.

Of course, that had to happen the only time you had decided to ride alone for once.

Your left leg, broken. The fruit of your labors and harvests, your perfect peaches, flawlessly ripe tomatoes and carrots, promising seeds, and beautiful flowers, scattered and smashed on the floor. Your dignity, gone. 

Lying back on the dirt, hair spread like a star around your head, surrounded by an indescribable substance made of crushed fruits and flower petals reduced to a mush, you looked like the religious figure of Bad Luck.

On top of that, being a lonely young woman, unarmed, and hurt in the open clearly wasn’t an ideal situation. Any man with bad intentions could easily do the worst thing to you in your state.

You tried to get back in a sitting position. Every movement was igniting the pain in your broken bone, deep inside your calf, spreading it through your entire body like a burning trail of powder. You let out a short pained grunt, followed by a curse. Slowly tugging your skirt up your knee, you took a worried look at your leg. 

It looked bad.

Painted with deep colored bruises kind of bad. 

The sight of it along with the incessant stabbing pain coming from it made your heart beat faster, and you did your best not to pass out from the nausea that was flying over your head. The panic of not feeling your toes anymore didn't helped at calming your heart rate.

There was no way you could walk back to any town in that state, or contact the rest of your family already waiting for you.

Yes, you were screwed. 

Tilting your head backward, you looked at the sky, in an attempt to prevent your threatening tears from falling, or to throw a desperate call to the Heavens, you didn’t really know it yourself. 

A muffled sound suddenly made its way to your ears. It looked like your involuntary prayer had been answered sooner than you would have expected.

It was the sound of hooves.

You snapped your head in the noise’s direction and noticed an approaching form on the road, raising a cloud of dust in its wake, coming towards you. Your only hope. You were praying, for real this time, that this upcoming stranger was a gentleman and not a bad man.

Praying, praying, praying.

Praying again as the man was at voice’s reach, and as you screamed and begged for help.

“M-Mister!” Your voice sounded even more pitiful than what you had planned, and a bit hoarse from the pain. Your ego protested, but screw it, he probably was your last chance. “Mister, please! I broke my leg! I can’t… I can’t…”

Apparently, shouting didn't seem to help the nausea. The more you were getting air out of your lungs by screaming the more your head was feeling dizzy.

Luckily for you, the lonely rider had heard your desperate breathless words and was heading towards you, stopping his horse in a skillful maneuver before dismounting, his two boots hitting the ground.

“What happen Ma’am, d’ya need some help?” He asked you, voice powerful and worried frown on his face.

“My horse got spooked by a damn snake and he ran away… Making me fall and I… I think my leg broke…” Your tone was pained and way weaker than his as you did your best to explain the situation, a single tear now streaming down your cheek.

The pain, the panic, the frustration from having a month’s worth of work destroyed in just mere seconds… You couldn’t hold it anymore.

Slowly approaching you, the man lowered himself in a crouching position to take a better look at you, and talk to you at the same eye level. His deep blue eyes studied your broken leg, surely not missing the disturbing, alarming color the bruises were taking, your skin an odd mix of purple and green now. It didn’t seem to disgust him though, his face stoic as he scanned your wound.

“Alright Miss jus’... Don’t move too much.” He advised you in a softer tone. You could see he was truly concerned about your state. “What’s with all this mess? You trynna make some soup or what?” He asked in a deep sarcastic tone, as if amused by his own words.

You drily chuckle, which revived the pain you were still feeling in your bone, making you cut your laugh and groan a bit, your own features contracting in a pained expression.

“It is… It was my crop… I was going to sell it in Valentine…” You explained once again, feeling shame and exasperation hitting you. You were feeling so angry from this waste, so angry at yourself to be the only one responsible for it, you couldn’t prevent more tears from falling, trying hard not to let yourself go into sobs.

“Ah, shit… I’m sorry for ya.” He exhaled, contemplating the scattered and mashed jelly-like matter composed of what was once your yield, pieces of peaches and broken carrots lying there, like on a battlefield. His gaze came back to yours, full of compassion and probably pity for your state, before continuing. “Don’t worry Miss. I’mma take you up to the Doc, in Valentine. ‘Was goin’ there anyway.”

You nodded in order to thank him, feeling so relieved life had put him on your way. 

“Okay, I’m gonna help ya get on ma horse. It’s gonna hurt a little but we have to.” He warned you, getting completely down on his knees by your side.

You didn’t dare to move from one inch. He slowly wrapped an arm under your shoulders, his hand grabbing your side. Even more carefully, his other one slipped under your legs, and he gently lifted you up bridal-style, as if you weighed nothing, a fallen leaf in a gentle breeze.

 As if he was carrying injured people all day every day.

Your broken member didn’t like it as much as you did though, and you hissed in pain from feeling your own weight pull on the wound as your leg was hanging in the air. He noticed, and spoke again while getting up, just as easily as if he wasn’t carrying an entire person in his arms right now.

“Gonna be okay Miss, hold on a lil’ longer.”

As if taking his words in a literal way, you encircled his waist with your arms and rested your head on his chest. His work shirt was used and dirty, rough against the skin of your cheek, but right now it just felt heavenly to you compared to the dusty rock of the floor. You sighed, feeling calmer and way better now.

If you had brought up your gaze, you could have seen how a slight blush was spreading on the tan skin of his cheeks the moment he felt you getting comfortable in his arms.

You heard him call for his horse with a short whistle and a sharp noise from his teeth. His mount obeyed right away, getting closer to both of you in a happy trot. You wish your horse could have been as gentle as this one. He looked like a really strong and powerful, but very sweet on the inside animal. A bit like its owner, now that you were thinking about it.

As carefully as if you were made of porcelain, the man in question let go of your legs, and you took support on your valid one. He then picked you up again, by your waist, and lifted you on the saddle, helping you to get settled and as comfortable as possible. His large hands were very soft on you, cautious, caring. You could feel how his touch was light and measured, calculated to make you feel the least pain possible.

“You take the saddle, else your leg would get too bumped during the ride.” He explained before hopping behind you, grabbing the reins by bringing his arms from both sides of you.

He was basically enveloping you, his large frame keeping you warm and steady. Against your shoulders, you could feel his biceps, and thanked the Lord once again this man had good intentions with you because there was no way you could have resisted this mountain of muscles.

The silence fell as your gentle savior spurred his horse into a slow pace, keeping him calm and cold-blooded. You mentally thank him for it, every movement from your leg, even the tiniest one, would ignite the flames of your pain again.

The ride to Valentine was a quiet, peaceful one, just like it was supposed to be from the start. Your eyes kept closing and opening as if you were on the verge of falling asleep, but still needed to be alert until you'd be safe and sound in town. 

You only had exchanged a few words with the man, your names, and where you lived. 

Arthur Morgan didn't look like the kind of man to have the longest conversations but his presence was reassuring nevertheless. His heavy breathing, his body around yours, the calmness of the plains… It was all making your pain less vivid and way more bearable.

Once in Valentine, Arthur rode straight to the Doctor, and got off first, tying his horse's reins around the fence.

“Here we are, Miss. Let's get ya checked up for good, shall we?” He said while standing right next to the saddle, opening his arms to pick you up again, a gentle smile on his face, as if telling you all your worries were behind you now.

If you thought this man was going to let you walk alone to the doc’s office and head off to his own business, you were damn wrong.

Even through your terrible state, a grin curled up your lips and mirrored his own expression. You let your tired and injured body sink into his solid one, and he carried you in his arms once again.

His scent ran through your nose as you breathed, traveling all the way down your veins to your lungs and everywhere in your body, enfolding you and your soul. It was a strong smell, not a delicate one like those gentlemen would carry with their cologne, but you liked it regardless. A mix of leather, sweat, tobacco, and this early dew scent, the one you can smell just before dawn, earthy and herbal, as if he had been sleeping under the stars for months. 

The smell of the outdoors. 

Arthur opened the door with one foot, and entered the Dr Calloway’s office with you in his arms, careful not to let your leg get knocked while walking through the door. The doctor took care of you right away, ordering Arthur to put you on the chair in the little room where patients were treated.

His muscled arms dropped you, his hands gentle and attentive, as slowly as if you were a newborn filly he could hurt or scare away by using too much force. There was such kindness, such gentleness and care in his gesture that it left you feeling all bubbly on the inside.

You kept on looking at him during all the time it took for Dr Calloway to treat you, waiting for him to just go, but he didn’t. He stayed, casually leaning his back against the wall to leave some space for the doctor, his eyes voyaging from your injury to your face, then away from you, as if he was feeling guilty about staring at you like this. It made you giggle.

You paid the doctor, thanked him goodbye, and before you could process it, here you were, freshly gifted with two crutches and a wooden splint around your injury in front of his door. Perfect. For a farmer family, a hurt worker was a curse.

“You gonna be okay now, Miss? D’ya need another ride home?”

Arthur’s deep voice dragged you out of your thoughts. This man was so special. He looked used, strong, and intimidating, but had been nothing but kind and delicate with you. Right now, his deep azure gaze was staring right at yours, making you feel even weaker in the knees than you already were.

“Oh, don’t worry, my family is already here. We have a wagon and all. Besides, you have done plenty for me, Mister Morgan.”

“Ah, don’t ya worry. 'Did what any man would have done seein’ a pretty lil’ lady like ya hurt on the ground.” He answered with a subtle grin.

Before you could realize it, his hand was reaching out for a strand of your hair, and his fingers brushed against it.

You froze, feeling a dark red settling on your cheeks, your eyes looking back at his in surprise and disbelief, searching for an explanation, even if your heart didn't want it. It wanted more of it, no questions asked.

“You hum… You still got some… pieces of peaches or somethin’ in your hair, Miss…” He explained himself, his voice a little less self-assured than before.

You blushed even more. You indeed must looked like a total mess after your accident, and mentally noted to go fix yourself as soon as possible.

“Oh, God I…” You started, feeling embarrassed and flustered, words mixing and blurring in your mind instead of lining up properly. You just sighed, closing your eyes, giggling a little. You then spoke again, keeping your tone as calm as you could. “Thanks again, Mister Morgan.”

“Please, jus’ call me Arthur.”

“Alright, Arthur. Thank you, for everything. I don’t know how I could thank you enough.”

“You know, maybe I could come someday, at your farm I mean, and buy some of your stuff. You could give me a rebate on those, unless everythin’ you sell actually looks like jam…” He added with a mischievous, low chuckle, gaze sparkling.

“Hey! My crops are perfect, Mister. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” You said back in an equally amused tone, a toothy smile completing the picture of your precious blushing face.

“I'm sure I won’t be, lil’ peach.” 

His voice had turned just as soft as his touch had been when carrying you; for Arthur, you really were starting to become his sugary, soft, and delicious favorite fruit.

[blingblong55]

Valentine- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

(photo belongs to: @ave661 )

Based on a request:

For fluffy ghost - he's a big intimidating looking dude but animals LOVE HIM. Dogs, cats, rodents, everything. I love the idea of him being trapped on a couch bc too many sleepy animals are on him. Kittens like to climb him. Rodents want to snuggle in his hood or his pocket. Dogs are obsessed and follow him and want to give him kissies. Hed be really good at finding lost pets cause they just come running up to him out of nowhere. (That or like imagine having a cat that's super friendly and telling him your cat doesn't like people so when the kitty cuddles up with him he will feel special).

GN!Reader, Fluff, Friends to lovers

I've rejected affection For years and years Now I have it and damn it It's kind of weird

He isn't much of a people person or more that everyone finds him to be intimidating. But lately, as you have become closer to him, he found himself, wandering the halls of the base, looking for you. And occasionally, there'll be some furry friend with him. There have been times when you call him snow white for that reason alone. Sitting under a willow tree? A bird, deer, cat, and/or dog goes to him and cuddles on his lap or shoulder. You find this so beautiful, it gives you some new perspective on him.

Sometimes during field training, he will get the occasional guard dog to stand by him and rub their body on his leg, begging for a head rub. This has become so frequent, that he has gotten used to it. One time, while in an active war zone, he got tackled by a very friendly dog. Soap was about to shoot it when Ghost laughed a little. "Don't you worry, sergeant, we got a friend, now." You and Soap look at each other, giving the other the 'Again' look. One time, purely because you were all waiting for the helicopter to pick you up, he began to attract all sorts of friendly animals. So much so, that one of the animals became the birthday gift to Price's little girl.

I've lost all control of my heartbeat now

Another time, Gaz begged his lieutenant, to fetch a kitten for his girlfriend and as always, it worked. As you two grow closer and closer, he visits your home frequently. You two usually stay in your back garden, sitting by the grass and then soon the birds begin to chirp by the branches, this is only when he is there, no other time. "You know, this is nice, having this time with you." he softly confesses. His balaclava on your sofa's arm while you two enjoy the warm sun by the grass. Before you could even answer, your two pups and the grumpy cat who hates everyone approach him and purrs. "Bloody hell, Simon. You've done it again!" You laugh and he stares at you.

"This is a real problem I struggle with, R/N." He tried to pretend he was angry.

As time went on, and your pups grew, he began to be stuck somewhere during the winter visits. Your cosy sofa. Your dog lying on his chest and thighs, the grumpy cat that adores only him by his shoulder and the newest puppy he got you, tucked by his hood. It's a site to see, for sure and it's the best one you can get as his new partner. You always thought it was that his body radiated warmth but you soon found yourself to be going to him like a magnet. It's an inexplicable force that pulls you to him. It's safety, comfort, familiarity and understanding that he radiates to those vulnerable, delicate and small creatures.

The way he is, a giant, grumpy man, with three hobbies, smart, strong, rough but the way he protects everything that is at arms reach. That is what makes him so unique and special. You never viewed him this way when you first met. Never thought he was into puzzles, history and reading. His mind is so great and if he wanted to, he could be a successful professor elsewhere. Maybe it's the years of his own struggles and how he understands those who might be close to another breakdown that brings a certain level of comfort. Perhaps its how he caresses the creatures that crawl to him, that yearn for the love he gives. And maybe now it's you that is added to that list.

I still feel a shock through every bone When I hear an, "I love you" 'Cause now I've got someone to lose

Six years ago, you found him. He petted two stray cats and a squirrel on his shoulder, the one he kept feeding before winter. And now, in a dim kitchen light, listening to jazz, swaying in his arms, that is home to you and those sweet things. "My R/N, you have to sway like this." His hand was on your hip, the other holding your hand as he guided you. That skull balaclava hidden in the drawer of your now shared home. No longer the grey flat he lived in as a soldier but now, in a small, cosy and beautiful home as your husband.

Even to this say, when you go to the park to walk your pets, he has some new furry friends that come to him. And he gives you that look, 'Again' as you, with a big proud smile take a bag of treaties from the bag you carry for this occasion. He and you sit in a bench, just like the old couple that frequently sits across from you both. It's like staring in a mirror, he tells you every time. The man across from him feeds the birds, while he feeds the dogs or cats near him.

I blinked and suddenly I had a Valentine

[luveline]

Hey gorgeous! I think I saw somewhere that you’d be open to taking a shot at Steddie x reader and I have this fall idea that’s been stuck in my head :) all 3 are together getting ready for a Halloween party but Eddie and reader argue about how to do Steve’s makeup and everyone gets totally distracted ❤️

ty for your request! steddie x fem, 1k

"Yes," you say, more to yourself than Steve as you close his bedroom door. "Quick, babe, while he's gone." 

Steve sits back in his bed unbothered. "You know I'm not gonna kiss you while he's gone. He gets antsy." 

"Not kissing. I'm gonna do your vampire makeup, duh." 

"That's an even worse idea," Steve says, though his protests die as you climb onto the bed and over his legs. "We'll get in trouble." 

"Eddie wants to make you look goth. I want to make you look like a vampire, not like someone from KISS." Truthfully, you're not trying to do Steve's makeup because you think you know better —you want to do it because Eddie will get fake mad with you and maybe throw you around a little bit. Teasing him is your favourite girlfriend's duty. "Am I too heavy?" 

"Shut up." 

You bring your hand to his bare face, stroking his cheek with the back of your hand. "So loving. Did you put moisturiser on?" 

Steve saves you from having to stand up again, having moisturised well. If you needed to you couldn't anyhow, his hands on your hips and locked like he's worried you're gonna topple off of him and fall the three feet to the floor, injuring yourself grievously. 

You start with white powder over his face, darkening the hollows of his eyes and cheeks with a dark purple colour for fun. He sits patiently, letting you turn his face this way and that.

"You want lipstick?" you ask, holding his jaw in one hand, a whisper so as not to disrupt the quiet that's fallen. 

"How about you put some on?" he asks. "That way I'll get some eventually." 

The image of you trading kisses for lipstick is inescapable. You want desperately to dig your face into his neck and kiss him, but the white make up transfers. "You owe me one for that." 

"Liked that, huh?" he asks lightly. 

"Liking it less." You sit back on his thighs and look him over. "I'm no good at mascara on other people, Eddie'll have to do it." 

"Eddie won't be able to do it," Steve says, and there would be pink to his cheeks if he wasn't covered, "you know what he's like, he can't not kiss you if he's close enough." 

You have a hickey on the side of your neck to prove it, skin purpled and yellowed from nights of being the little spoon. He doesn't mean to go so far, but it's hardly like you mind. As long as he doesn't go too high to be covered by your collar, he can kiss you whatever way he likes. 

Speaking of, your dark-haired boyfriend finally reappears, shirtless and yawning, three coat hangers in his hand that hold your clothes freshly steamed for tonight's party. "Hey," he says, looking down, his back arched backward as he shakes out your dress. He doesn't have a clue how good looking he is or how warm his bad posture makes you feel, how it emphasises the slightest muscle of his abdomen and the slimmer outline of his waist. "Y/N, I don't think the creases are ever gonna come out of your dress." 

"That's fine. You're just gonna douse me in syrup anyways." 

Eddie looks up smiling but his eyes quickly narrow, tossing your clothes over the dresser with a betrayed squeak. "You fucking sneak! I should've known you were gonna do it while I was gone. Babe, go wipe that shit off so I can do it again." 

"I can't do that," Steve says. 

"Why not?" 

"Uh, because that's, like, a cardinal rule? Happy wife, happy life."

"What's the rule about heartbroken boyfriends?" Eddie asks. He's talking and looking at Steve but he's approaching you, grabbing your hands in an attempt to steamroll you back into the bedsheets. 

You laugh, putting up a good fight for a time, but your laughter has you weak and it's not long before Eddie's pushed you down onto Steve's bed, a knee between your thighs as he clamps your arms flat on either side of you. 

"You'd look so fucking sick in the Star Child makeup, please let me do it." 

"How about you guys go half and half?" Steve asks. 

Eddie turns his gaze to you, glaring, a loving quirk to his lip as he bends over you. "You're such a fucking sneak. I swear, you do it to piss me off." 

"That's exactly why I do it," you say, squirming in his tight grip. He squeezes you as if to show that he's stronger than he looks, getting closer and closer as your defences wane. "You're an easy target, how is that my fault?" 

"I'm an easy target? Which one of us is pinned down right now, sweetheart?" 

"Guys," Steve says, defeated through laughter, "you always do this! You fight and make up and someone decides to take my clothes off and we never get anywhere!" 

"Who said we're taking your clothes off, Stevie?" Eddie asks. 

"He's so presumptuous," you murmur agreeably. 

"Right?" Eddie nips down to kiss you, his smile a tight line pressed to the seam of yours. You kiss up and he relaxes ever so slightly, his hands loosening at your wrists to take your hands and hold them instead. 

"Forgive me?" you ask into his mouth. 

Eddie kisses a sharp stripe from the corner of your lips to your eye. "Nope." He punctuates with one last kiss before sitting up, and again, he can't know that the pose he's in could sell magazines, head tipped back and your joined hands held to his naked stomach. You sit up to be as close to him as possible. "I accept your half and half deal. You'll look like an idiot." 

You offer a hand to Steve and he accepts it. Eddie looks at him like he might try to eat him, but there's a real, soft love in his eyes as you both look up into Steve's pale face.

"She didn't do your eyes, huh?" Eddie asks fondly. 

"You'll do it for me, right? I can't do that shit, the wand. I'll blind myself." 

"Obviously I'll do it for you. Imagine the tension." 

You giggle happily and drop back down, yanking on their hands as you go. "Well, don't be too tense. You guys still have to pour that jug of fake blood on me." 

[dark-l-angel]

if you want requests, I am so delulu, I'm stuck in my own world 24/7 and my brain refuses to stop.....

Jason, who growing up had a crush on reader, but being the clueless person we are we have no clue (I swear it's a curse, I genuinely don't know that someone is into me until they say it. No flirting computes with me) but then the whole- ya know, not living thing happens.... The thing that leads up to Red Hood (I refuse to say it) and reader is later confronted by either Dick or Alfred at the funeral and they're like

“You know he like you, right?” and readers response is

“Not as much as I loved him”

which I guess causes a whole sad thing that I can't cope with, so you decide what happens from there, but basically the ending is when Jason is not the scary evil Red Hood anymore but more the Jason people fantasize about, he tells reader how he feels and IDK man something cute and fluffy, my brain is just sad all the time so all I have is the sad stuff.

Anyways, this is a lot longer than I thought it would be, but here it is, please ignore it if it's weird or too much 😅

have a nice day, peace out ✌️

Princess, believe it or not i had hundreds of scenarios to this situation at fucking 5 a.m when i was ab to pass my bachelor exam *I'm talking math day 💀

And having your own world is nice actually.. ❤ at least you have an escape place from painful reality and ur comfort character is hugging you in your rough times. Hope happiness strikes you like jason's beauty did to me 😃💝 love u deeply 💖

Reunion

Jason todd x fem!reader

"You know that he liked you.. right?" Dick's voice ringed in your ear.. even after all this time.. it's like it happened yesterday..

Thinking while staring at a book jason used to read when you both were younger.. before.. that incident..

You put the book away and picked another, you shared the same love of books with jason, that explains why you become a loyal customer to libraries and coffee shops.

It was always a sad thing to go to libraries, yet it felt like happiness to you.. finally some freedom from this cruel world. You don't have to suffer through reading some simple lines with deep meanings.. in fact, it changed you 360 degrees, your vision to the world has changed since ever jason introduced you to the books.

You were walking around the library while hugging different books, looking carefully through the shelves of another chosen one, Losing all connections with your world, not feeling a specific guy staring at you in admiration.

Your eye fallen on an interesting novel, but it was on the top shelf. You tried to reach it but failed, and you got that idea of reaching it through another book was by your hand. You did, the novel is coming out, but still not enough, you had to put extra efforts by standing on the top of your toes.

"Too bad short angel can't reach her little novel" a tall handsome man was towering you from behind, you looked up and his eyes fell into yours, green emerald eyes inspecting your angelic features in admiration carefully *while you took your time to enjoy his mesmerizing gorgeous beauty like the little whore you and i will do*.

He smirked before looking back to the novel and pulling it out for you, gosh he was handsome, but.. you could swear you know him from somewhere.

He reads the title loud before saying "damn baby girl you've got some pretty good taste out there.. i like it" he smirked "oh thanks, I've always liked that type of stuff especially when *author name* added his pov of the topic.." he laughed.

As you both sat at a coffee shop and continued babbling ab different books to different subjects.. almost everything.. as if you actually know this person years ago, the problem was that you weren't the type to get comfy to people easily.. so what's the matter with this guy?.

Probably his smile that cached your mind? or his emerald eyes and their beauty? his funny jocks? Or it's your shared likings? Or the fact that he was the only person to be able to crack his way through your dead heart and plant a rose of adoration that was meant only for him? The only person to have the ability to warm your heart after all these years? Or him being the reason of your tears of laughter?... sooo much questions going through your head.

You finally managed to ask him.. " i feel like i know you from years, never had fun like this since then.. do i know you by any chance?" You said while wiping away the tears of laughing on his stories.

"You didn't recognize me y/n?" You didn't tell him your name yet.. how would he- "i missed you so much actually... i have been thinking about you in everything i was doing back then, dick might probably told you about it, yet i still do think about you all the time..." you watch the man goes on.. but dick? He spoke about jason only.. and jason is.. gone.. "you forget me y/n?" That can be..

He smiled staring at you in pure love and admiration and adoration.. "It's jason.. the dumb boy who fell dumber in love with you, angel ♡".

Hope you like it ❤ baby gurl was here 😘

[genderqueerdykes]

finally got some answers on my stomach/gastrointestinal pain, nausea, and other symptoms:

i've got a gallstone stuck somewhere and it looks like they wanna do surgery to remove my gallbladder. it's not necessary to live, so i don't mind. i'm trans so the thought of surgery doesn't scare me- i just want to stop being in constant pain. fatty liver disease will be an easy thing to treat for me, i already don't eat red meat or dairy, so i just have to cut out some fried foods and whatnot. however this explains why i've felt like hell and couldn't figure out why!!! it explains why i've been waking up out a of a dead sleep with nausea. it explains why i have constant pain in my torso

this is why i have been under the weather lately. the pain in my abdomen has been getting worse. i can't really stand for long periods of time or walk very far. i've been having to rely on dramamine (meclizine version) because i have not been prescribed any antiemetics. it has been getting harder for me to eat anything. staying hydrated has been a challenge as well. i have no idea how long this has been going on for but its gotten very bad lately, so i'm glad they're taking matters seriously. i have some more procedures scheduled coming up as well as the surgery:

hopefully these tests will provide more answers

[maya-caffrey]

Stuck in my head

pairing: neal caffrey x fem!reader

words: 3.2k

summary: Neal Caffrey, Ward of the state, CI by circumstance, Conman by choice, has taken a particular liking to the fence he's actively trying to get arrested while undercover, much to his chagrin.

timeline: this is fanfiction land. time stands still and we dance on canon's remains

warnings: baby this is fluff, no surprises, I swear. maybe a small one somewhere but it's good, I promise

ps: (Y/f/n) is (your/fake/name), (y/n) is (your/name)

"Peter I am telling you, we can't arrest her."

"Because we have no evidence yet? Yeah, I got that."

"No, I'm saying we shouldn't even be pursuing this case in the first place. I don't think she's a fence."

Peter rolled his eyes at Neal's protests and proceeded to ignore the rest of his rant, much like he had since the beginning of the case. For some reason Peter cannot quite understand, Neal has been opposed to working this case ever since the first time he went undercover as George Devore, art collector, to set up a meeting with (Y/f/n).

To the residents of the stakeout van, the meeting was normal and went swimmingly, meaning the next meeting, where the handoff would be discussed, would be enough to put the nail in the coffin and close the case, essentially arresting (Y/f/n) and finally getting the name of the buyer they have been tracking. But to Neal, or rather, George Devore, this seemed like the worst thing in the world at the moment.

Back home, Neal decided to pour his heart out to the only other person who he thought would lend a happy ear. But instead, he was met with merciless judgment from Mozzie.

"Neal, you have a problem when it comes to beautiful women. I say this from a place of love. And perfect recall"

Neal feigned being hurt, even though he knew damn well his only problem with (Y/f/n) was that she was stuck in his head ever since they first met. He had no solid reason, but he was sure she was not just a regular fence for stolen art. She did not carry herself with that shifty cunningness one might find in a con artist, but rather with an air of authority. She seemed honest and sure of herself, which was the first clue he noticed that she may not be a con artist. Her textbook knowledge of Degas was not helping her case, and her being gorgeous was only making things worse.

He remembered the time he showed her the Degas. As she leaned forward to examine the painting he’d brought as bait, he caught a faint hint of her perfume—something light, maybe jasmine? Neal told himself it was just an observation, but even Peter had once told him he had a way of letting the little details trip him up.

Tomorrow was going to be a difficult day.

______________________________________________________________

"Your work is simple. You need to discuss a time and place for the handoff, get her buyer's name to confirm we have the right guy, and have her admit on the record that she’s knowingly trafficking stolen art," Peter said, his tone clipped and businesslike. "Once we have her on tape saying anything that implicates herself or her buyer, we can move in. So keep it casual, stay in character, and—" Peter shot Neal a warning look. "—don’t get any ideas."

Neal managed a tight smile. "You’re really worried I’ll blow it?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "No, I’m worried you’ll fall for it. There’s a difference."

"Peter, I’ve got this," Neal replied, a bit too quickly. "She’s just another suspect."

Peter crossed his arms, unconvinced. "Good. Keep it that way."

Neal exited the surveillance van to the restaurant where he was meeting (Y/f/n), mentally cursing himself for picking the most romantic spot in town. Although it was George Devore who was meeting her, Neal Caffrey wished it was him instead.

As Neal entered the restaurant, the low lighting and soft jazz in the background felt more intimate than he’d intended. The tables were spaced just far enough apart for privacy, and the scent of roses mixed with fresh bread filled the air. It was a perfect place for a date—not a takedown. He adjusted his cufflinks, reminding himself that George Devore was here to discuss business, but Neal Caffrey couldn't shake the feeling he was here for something else entirely.

The moment he saw her seated at their table, he could feel time slow down around him. His heart, pounding so loud, threatening to give himself away, and his feet were reluctant to move forward. Reminding himself yet another time what he was here for, Neal took the other seat at the table and was greeted by a warm smile.

As he took his seat, the soft lighting cast a warm glow on her face, and Neal couldn't help but notice the way her eyes caught the light, just for a second. Her warm smile and the skip of his own heartbeat threatened to unravel him. He swallowed, hoping she couldn't see how tightly he was gripping the edge of the table under his hand.

“Mr. Devore, you’ve picked quite the place, I must say.” She glanced around, taking in the candlelight and cozy atmosphere with an approving smile.

Neal cleared his throat, managing a relaxed grin. “Please, call me George,” he replied, leaning back slightly, trying to match her casual tone. “I figured someone with your refined taste would appreciate a little ambiance.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Ambiance and art—my weaknesses.” She tilted her head, studying him for a moment longer than was comfortable. “So, George, what’s next on our agenda?”

Neal felt his pulse quicken. The way she looked at him, with a blend of curiosity and confidence, made it difficult to remember that this was just business. “I thought we’d finalize the details,” he said smoothly, though his mind was racing. “Make sure we’re all on the same page… especially about your buyer.”

She had this way of tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear just before she spoke as if gathering her thoughts in a gesture as practiced as her knowledge of art. For someone supposedly in the business of deception, she was oddly composed, almost serene. And that calm was getting to him.

"Well, my buyer is a man who really values his privacy, you know how it is." Neal could feel his focus shifting away from their conversation and was almost sure he'd stutter if he said another word. He knew that to get anything from her, he'd have to give up something as well, as a show of trust. Or you know, he could tank the entire investigation by naming the buyer himself and spooking the poor fence.

"Really? Because word on the street is, you've got Orwell Anders lined up for the Deg-" She casually reached for his wrist, her fingers grazing over the watch. In a swift motion, she turned it off—he'd almost missed it. Neal's breath caught as he realized she knew exactly what it was.

"How did you know—Who are you?"

"How long until your agents move in?"

"A couple minutes, if I don’t respond."

"In that case, I’ll get straight to the point. Neal, my name’s (Y/n). I’m with the FBI—Homicide Division, specifically. And yes, I know exactly who you are. I’m undercover to take down Orwell Anders. Part of my operation involves meeting him as a fence, which is why I’m here. I thought we were on the same side, but it’s clear you’re investigating me, and that’s a problem. I can't let you derail this case, especially since we need him for murder. I turned off your watch because your van is compromised. I’m sure you can figure out who’s responsible for that. If they've heard any of this from the van, it's over."

Neal blinked, trying to absorb everything she’d just dropped on him. His mind raced, but he kept his face neutral. “So, let me get this straight,” he said slowly, his voice steady despite the chaos inside. “You’re working for the FBI… and you’ve been undercover, posing as a fence to get close to Anders? But now you want me to back off, or what? Help you catch him for murder?”

She didn’t flinch at his disbelief. Instead, she leaned in slightly, her voice low and urgent. “I didn’t want to pull you in, Neal. But now that your team’s involved, I need you to understand—we can’t afford to lose him. We need solid evidence to tie him to the murder. If you keep investigating me, it’ll ruin everything.”

Neal studied her, trying to find a crack in her story, but there was nothing. Just the same calm, controlled demeanor he’d seen in her earlier, only now there was something sharper, more desperate underneath it.

“You’re telling me that all this—” He waved a hand, gesturing to their whole encounter, the charade, the tension between them—“is a setup. And you knew all along who I was?”

Her expression softened just a fraction. “I had to, Neal. But this isn’t about you. It’s about stopping a killer.”

He leaned back in his chair, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in dynamics. This wasn’t how he’d imagined things would play out. She wasn’t just another suspect. She was part of the game. The rules had just changed.

“So, what now?” Neal asked, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were sharp, focused. “You want me to help you take down Anders, but you need me to play nice? Or should I just keep pretending I’m the clueless art dealer you think I am?”

She paused, eyes narrowing slightly, but there was an unreadable intensity behind them. “I don’t need you to pretend, Neal. I need you to trust me.”

"You could've gone to Peter or Hughes with this. You knew I'm a CI. You knew I was on a case. Why go with the charade?"

"I guess I thought I was helping with your investigation? I hadn't realized you were looking into me at that point." She almost looked guilty for having to have put him through that.

Neal’s mind spun with everything she had just revealed. The weight of her words hung between them, a fragile thread of trust that could snap at any moment. He wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. The lines were blurring in a way he hadn’t expected, and as much as he wanted to shut this down, something about her calm confidence made him hesitate.

She watched him, waiting for him to make a decision. Finally, Neal took a deep breath, trying to push aside the growing unease in his gut.

“Okay,” he said, his voice steady, but with an edge of suspicion. “Let’s say I believe you for a second. What now?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached over and placed her hand gently on his wrist, the same place she’d turned off the watch earlier. Her fingers lingered for a moment, before she spoke in a low, urgent tone. “Turn it back on, Neal. I need you to stay in character, to help me take him down. If we’re going to get Anders for both the murder and the stolen art, we need him to make a move—one he can’t deny. And right now, I need your help to make that happen.”

Neal’s chest tightened at the request. He didn’t want to help her. He didn’t want to become a pawn in whatever dangerous game she was playing. But he had no choice. The mission was bigger than just the art, and from the way she was looking at him, he knew this was their best shot.

He let out a frustrated sigh, but reached for his wrist with a reluctant motion. Slowly, he turned the watch back on, the familiar hum buzzing against his skin.

“Fine,” he muttered, looking up at her. “But you owe me one.”

She gave him a brief, almost imperceptible smile. “You’ll get more than you think.”

Neal watched her as she leaned back in her chair, her posture shifting from casual to calculating, her eyes never leaving his. She was in full control now, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she always had been. All he knew was that he liked it.

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

The next day, they were back in the briefing room. Peter was already in his usual spot, running the meeting as he always did. Neal couldn’t help but notice (Y/n) walking in, though. She was a stark contrast to the playful, teasing woman he'd met the night before. Today, she was all business.

In her pantsuit, with her badge and gun, she looked right at home. The transition was seamless, and for a second, Neal wondered just how much of that was the real her. The woman who had handled the dinner situation with such ease had just stepped into her role without missing a beat.

She offered Peter a quick smile, then took her seat, her posture shifting from relaxed to focused in an instant. There was no sign of the laid-back charm she had shown before. She was more chipper and excited than the nervously calm person he had seen yesterday.

"Morning," she said, her voice warm but professional. It was clear this was her zone, and Neal respected that. But a part of him couldn’t help but notice the contrast from last night—the way her eyes seemed to soften just before she turned away like she was still adjusting to the change.

Peter began the briefing, detailing the next steps with his usual focus. Neal stayed quiet, letting Peter run through the plan. But his attention kept drifting to (Y/n). There was a quiet energy between them, something unspoken that he couldn’t quite shake.

“Alright, team,” Peter said as the briefing wrapped up. “Neal, (Y/n), you’ll be tailing Anders. We need to get something concrete, so keep your eyes open.”

Neal nodded, but he was still processing everything. Working with (Y/n) felt… different. She had a way about her, an energy that made it hard to stay entirely focused. She wasn’t acting like someone undercover, yet Neal couldn’t help but feel there was more to her than what was on the surface.

As the team started to shuffle out, Neal lingered for a moment. He caught (Y/n)’s eye again as she packed her things. Her gaze softened just a little before she turned back to her bag, though Neal was certain she hadn’t meant to let it show.

“You good?” he asked, trying to keep things light, though his voice had a slight edge to it. He wasn’t sure if it was the case or the connection that was making him second-guess himself.

“Yeah,” she replied, meeting his gaze with an easy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You?”

“Never better,” Neal said with a shrug, though he didn’t really believe it. His pulse was still a little too quick, and he couldn’t figure out why.

Peter called from the door. “Neal, (Y/n), let’s go.”

Neal and (Y/n) fell into step, heading toward the door. Neal could feel her presence beside him, just a little too close for comfort in a way that was making it harder to concentrate. He glanced at her quickly, catching the faintest blush on her cheeks. It could’ve been nothing, but something told him it wasn’t.

They walked in silence for a moment before Neal broke it, his voice low, as if testing the waters. “You ever do anything like this before?”

She gave him a sideways glance. “Yeah, but it's always more fun when you’re with someone who’s as good as me.”

Neal chuckled, his usual charm slipping back into place. “So you’re saying you’ve never worked with a partner as handsome as me?”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips, something soft in her expression. She didn’t answer immediately, her attention focused on the task ahead, but Neal noticed her glancing at him again, just for a moment too long. And this time, it wasn’t just the mission that was on his mind.

Something was starting to shift—between them. And though Neal tried to push it away, he knew it would only be a matter of time before everything between them came to a head.

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

The bust went down as smooth as they could’ve hoped. Anders didn’t stand a chance, caught entirely off-guard by (Y/n)’s meticulous planning. Neal watched her in action, directing her team with precision, her voice steady and unyielding. She was completely in her element, and for a moment, he was genuinely impressed—maybe a bit more than he wanted to admit.

Once Anders was cuffed and led away, Peter nodded toward her, clearly impressed himself. “You know, we could use an agent like you at White Collar,” he said, half-serious, but the glint in his eye suggested it was more than a passing thought.

She let out a small laugh, a hint of sadness mingled with amusement. “Funny you’d say that,” she replied, hands on her hips. “This is actually my last case with Homicide. I’ve just been transferred.”

Neal’s eyebrow arched, intrigue sparking in his eyes. “Transferred?” He leaned in, his voice dropping a touch lower. “Guess that means I’ll be seeing more of you.”

(Y/n) smirked, tilting her head as she met his gaze, unflinching. “Maybe. Though, from what I hear, it’s hard to keep up with you, Caffrey.”

“Oh, I think you’d manage,” he shot back, eyes glinting as he stepped just a bit closer, their shoulders nearly touching. “After all, I wouldn’t mind a little… competition.”

She held his gaze, her smile widening just a fraction. “Competition? Careful, Neal. I don’t play nice when I’m winning.”

Peter watched the exchange, clearly amused, before clearing his throat and muttering, “Alright, save the flirting for the office.” His words hung in the air, casual but with enough weight to make both of them suddenly feel exposed.

Neal’s easy grin faltered, his usual charm suddenly thrown off-balance. He looked away quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets and adjusting his stance, trying to seem nonchalant. “Flirting?” he echoed, a hint of forced laughter creeping in. “I wouldn’t call it… flirting.”

(Y/n)’s expression tightened, and she crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah, I mean—it’s not like that,” she muttered, glancing at Neal and then away, her tone coming out sharper than she intended. “This is just professional courtesy, right?”

Neal chuckled, a little too loudly. “Exactly. I mean, you know me, Peter. I’m just… courteous.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, watching the two of them stumble over their words, clearly enjoying the unexpected reaction. “Uh-huh. Just professional courtesy,” he repeated, the skepticism obvious in his voice.

(Y/n) looked at Neal, a slight flush creeping up her neck as she tried to regain her composure. “Exactly. Nothing else to it.”

Neal opened his mouth, as if to agree again, but no words came out. Instead, he gave a stiff nod, forcing his usual confidence back into his posture. “Right. So… I’ll see you around, Agent,” he added, voice slightly strained, and he quickly looked away, almost as if he couldn’t stand meeting her eyes.

(Y/n) nodded curtly, avoiding his gaze as she muttered, “Yeah, see you, Caffrey.”

As she turned to leave, Peter stifled a laugh, and Neal, sensing Peter’s amusement, shot him a defensive look. “What? I wasn’t… it’s not…” But he knew there was no winning this one.

Peter simply shook his head, chuckling as he clapped Neal on the shoulder. “Sure, Neal. Whatever you say.”

[asiuapng]

The Heart Wants What It Doesn't Have - Stanley Pines and His Undeniable Want for People to Want Him Back

Stan's strength doesn't lie in the streets. We have a whole decade of him not catching a break, getting banned by majority of the states, and even served time more than once. No, I believe his strength is his innate interest in people.

In their childhood, Crampelter told Stan that if it weren't for the company of his brother, he'll be alone. In that instance, we immediately saw that that is his true fear. He loves people but they don't seem to love him back, so he clings on to the person he knows who does: Ford. The idea of together forever brought comfort to him. It didn't matter if he fails, so long as he is standing with someone, then he never failed to begin with.

I'd like to think that his parents knew about this. And I'd like to think that that was Filbrick's main motivation to kick him out. You saw how Stan's tough love was a direct copy from his father, and that no matter what he's been through, he can't bring himself to completely hate the man who worked so hard to provide for his family. Again, Stan loves people—he wants them around. But Filbrick had other ideas. He knew his sons love each other, believed that Ford will get over it, and knew that Stan knew that too. But that would mean he wouldn't face the consequence, and Filbrick didn't want that. He wanted Stan to actually learn from his mistakes, and that those mistakes, no matter how much of an accident it was, will always have consequences. The world is cruel, and it's the father's job to make his children be above it.

What Filbrick did made Stan's fear into a reality. Believing that will toughen him up, believing that he'll rise up, believing that he'll finally become a man. But he doesn't know his son. He didn't know that what he's done was the complete ruin of Stan. That he was the nightmare Filbrick also had trouble sleeping when he was a kid.

I believe Filbrick never hated his son, just frustrated. Caryn knows that. Why would he never wiped of '#1 Dad'? That pride and ultimate shame of being his father, no wonder he didn't attend his youngest son's funeral.

Anyway, back to Stan. After getting kicked out, he tried to put a brave face. He may be Caryn's son, but the man can only lie so much before crashing down. Everything Stan did was just to go back home. He took every shortcut he can, but he can't bring himself back at the porch empty handed. He loves his father way too much.

As years has gone by, he finds himself getting further and further away from the glass shard-ridden beach. The sounds of waterbirds are just as muffled as his judgement, and all Stan wants is to get things over with. From illegal work to downright immoral, somewhere along the lines Stan might've gave up. He allowed himself get drowned not by the sea of salt, but all of his problems. He never stood a chance; and giving up his name seems to be easier than staying alive. But no matter how many time he has betrayed himself, Stan just can't get rid of the heart he thought had died years ago. No matter how much he runs aways, the whole entirety of him just wants to stay. And his soul is stuck, anchored and haunted by the presence of a payphone.

No matter how many years has passed, there's a part of him that refused to grow up. As if he is saving it for the same boy he believes will welcome him back in open arms. Even after heart break after heartache, Stan still stands—and he's so, so tired.

When Stan got ahold of the postcard, his heart started bumping. Like he's been lifted from the depths of the watery deep, and he couldn't be any more thankful. No storm can stop him, no goons can scare him, it's just him and his second chance of together forever. But that didn't work out, and he realizes that Stan is indeed just a boy. Tried to burn his journal? What was he thinking? Maybe he did deserve everything, and another thing for not learning. What was wrong with him? And now he lost his brother again. His father was right, mistakes, no matter how accidental it may be, bears consequence, and he had become his brother's executioner.

A life a for a life. He threw everything away just to get him back. He was ready to betray himself once more. He'll stop running away, stop trying to go home, stop trying to find a spot for himself in other people's hearts. It's what killed him after all. But, life has a sense of humor to them, because it's now keeping him alive. For the first time, he hears a laugh and his heart melts. They like his jokes? Now that was something. It would've meant something, but his lifeline isn't his anymore.

Stan swore on his breath that everything he has been through will all be worth it if it meant saving the first person who was there for him. A life for a life, right?

You'd think that after forever had passed, they'll be too old for this. Turns out, all wounds are fresh if it came from the person you love the most, and Stan is reminded yet again that no matter how much of an accident a mistake is, consequence will follow. He didn't mean to endanger his family, but that doesn't matter anymore.

So yet again he has stripped, lied, and bore his heart. Yet again, another act of self-betrayal. And yet again, Stan tricks himself that this time, it will surely be worth it.

The heart wants what it doesn't have, and he'll gladly offer it to the world if it meant another chance for together forever. Stanley's love for people is what killed him. But it was also what brought him back to life.

[vitzi9]

Headcanon: Yandere!Ethan Landry

Reader is gn, enjoy.

Masterlist if you want to read my other things.

Content warning: uhhhh gore description? Sex allusions; obsessive and shit. I mean, that's yandere you have to be used to it by now. OOC Ethan ? Manipulative, stalking blah blah blah nothing too crazy for a yandere.

~2000 words (8/05/2023)

💠Yan!Ethan Landry who 'accidentally' run into you at school. He's been following you in the hallways since you arrived to be honest but there is so much students here, you can't notice him in the crowd.

➛"I'm so sorry ! I wasn't looking !" He was, he was staring right at your face when he practically jumped on you. "It's okay, don't worry. I wasn't looking either." And when you two leave each other, what a crazy coincidence that you seem to have forgotten your book ! Wait, you didn't have it in your bag ? Of course silly ! Why would Ethan have it either way ? You're so clumsy ! He'll have to come give it back to you.

➛And suddenly, you see him everywhere. In the library at the same time as you and, oh no ! There is no seat for him ! Wait, is that a free seat ext to you? Maybe you won't mind if he seats here, he gave you back your book after all. He's so nice. Suddenly, he's at the same parties as you. Laughing with you and rating the costumes of people around you. He's in your building to 'drop someone off' and so on. What a coincidence, right ?

💠Yan!Ethan Landry who, to keep you all to himself, always say things like 'No, i'm mostly alone in my free time' to make you pity him into staying by his side. If it don't work, at least you got the idea that he's single and available for you.

➛ Pretty simple things, really. He'll tell you that his last partner left him without warning, that they were manipulating him. That he has difficulty in giving his trust to someone because of them. And now he's scared to love. That it hurt him really bad and of course you're sad for him ! So you're trying to be as nice as possible. You don't need to know that he never had any partner ! He'll eventually tell you that later.

➛Like "You're going to the party tomorrow ?" "I was planning on just staying at home" He didn't. Chad harassed him to come, and he would have if he didn't have the better option of staying with you. "I never really catch people's attention anyway..." He didn't care, it was yours that he wanted. But right now, his goal was to make you sad. For you to have pity of him so you'd stay with him.

So most of the time you try to make him smile by asking him to come to the party with you. Happy, he'll be stuck to your side all night, chasing everyone who'd dare approach. He's tall, he'll stand behind you and glare blankly at everyone without you noticing. He doesn't even need to try to be scary, he's a serial killer, his simple being emits a threatening energy.

➛Or when you ask him what's his plan for the week end and he just goes "Nothing, I don't really have much friends. I'll probably watch movies." with a small, almost ashamed voice. And you don't want to leave your new friend alone. And you think that he's too nice to be left alone so you offer to stay with him and he's on cloud nine !

➛Like "Don't you want a boyfriend sometimes ?" he'd ask. And you're a little surprised but you answer as honestly as possible. And he answer just after you, ignoring a little your answer. He just wanted to say what he needed to. "I'd like a partner. I've never had anyone loving me, that look so nice." He sighs. And while you look somewhere else, he'd give you a longing look. He probably already told Chad you two were together to be honest.

💠Yan!Ethan Landry who plays innocent when he litteraly jump on you when you two are watching a scary movie. He's a fucking liar, don't trust him. He litteraly kills people babe... This guy absolutly LOVE horror movie and even the gorest of them all couldn't make him twitch. But with you, he plays the innocent and easily scared nerd.

➛When the murderer suddenly appear on the screen in a loud scream, the boy plunge his head in your neck, putting his hands before his eyes to hide the TV from him. You laugh. "It wasn't that scary, you know ?" He laughs nervously, moving away from you but still sticking to your side. The side of his thigh flat against yours and your arms touching each other's. His cheeks are red and you probably think it's because of his embarassment in jumping of fear but he's just happy to be near you. "If you're so scared we can change." But he dismisses you. Saying that it's okay. After that, he'll hide himself in your body at each loud noises. Smiling when you can't see him, happy with his trickery.

And that little monster takes advantage of the situation until the end. He'll call/text you when you're at home. He'll keep you awake all night, pretending to be scared to sleep, needing to talk to you even if you're in two differents places just to be reassured.

💠Yan!Ethan Landry who guilt trap you by crying if you dare be angry at him or accuse him of something. It can be anything but he'll try and gaslight you. He'll cry harder, like a kid, to prevent you to continue talking.

➛After he came to your flat one day, one of your shirt disappeared. You had lend one to him since he got stained. (even if you're not the same size at him, i'm sure you have oversized clothes so it fit him) Without thinking much of it, you asked him about it when you saw him in class. And suddenly, he's looking at you with his big and shiny doe eyes, as if you had insulted him. Because in his head, you did ! "I gave it back to you litteraly two days ago..?" And he seems so sure of himself that you start to question yourself. "Are you sure ?" you ask, though. And Ethan laugh lightly. You doubt, trying to remember the past few days and thinking that, yeah, maybe he gave it back and it just didnt really stuck to you. "Yeah, I'm sure. Why would I steal your shirt anyway ?" But you swear you haven't seen your clothes in a while now.

➛Like, Ethan, your new friend, comes to your flat one day. You're used to it by now. He's sad, terribly sad. Or at least that's what he shows. "You know that person I was talking to ?" Another lie, he never talked to anyone beside you. And he plans on staying like that. But he told you he was slowly trying to forget about 'his ex', that he was trying to come out of his shell. And also he wanted to make you jealous by telling you he was talking to someone. (it didnt work, he was devastated) "They kind of called me a creep" and he laughs nervously, like he's ashamed to tell you that. (he's not) "They didn't like that I was clingy." And you try to be objective. "You know, people except different things in a relation. Maybe you were indeed too much for them but..." And then his eyes water and you feel bad. "Shit. I'm... Are you okay ? I wasn't insulting..." He doesn't want you to finish that. Because he doesn't want to hear you contradict him. So, thinking you said something stupid, you try to comfort him but now that he got you feeling guilty, he'll lock himself in the bathroom while this time, you're the one following him. He'll act like he's embarrassed to cry before you while in reality that shit is his most powerful technique. He'll cry before you every fucking day if he needed to.

💠Yan!Ethan Landry who calls you when he's ghostface, playing with you to see your reactions. He's the type to talk about himself (Ethan) to you to see what do you think about him. Yeah, he's fucked up.

➛"Do you like scary movies ?" ask a changed voice. You frown your brow, taking the phone away from your ear to look at it. As if the face of the caller would appear. "Who are you ?" "Answer the question, pretty." "Don't call me that." A silence pass. Ethan didnt know how to contain his feelings. He was so happy to talk to you ! And in his costume, he was so much more confident ! He was able to tell you things he never did ! "I like scary movie. And you ?" you finally respond in a sigh. Ethan decides to skip this part, rushing to what's interest him. "Do you have a boyfriend ?" "Will my answer change the way you act with me ?" "Maybe" "I don't have a boyfriend, or any kind of partner for that matter." The boy on the other side of the phone was trembling in joy. His cheeks were crimson red. "Good".

➛For the umpteenth time this week, the phone ring. "Please leave me alone." you said, still scared by the call; you answered the phone, again, because he once threatened to come get you if you didn't. You wouldn't have been so terrified if he hadn't told you your exact adress, proving you that he was indeed watching. No way you were going to try him. "I was thinking about your little boyfriend recently. Ethan, right ?" "He's not my boyfriend, leave him alone. He did nothing." As much as he despised the way you dismissed your relation with him, Ethan was euphoric to think you were trying to protect him. "He's not, hm ?" He was shaking from joy thanks to this call. "How would you react seeing his dismembered head in your mailbox, hm ? You'd cry ? I bet you'd cry all your pretty tears for him. I'd like that." "Stop..." "Do you think he'd cry seeing your cute little head in his mailbox ?" And he couldn't stop himself. "I'm sure he'd be devastated. He's so fucking pitiful. I'm sure he wants to fuck you but he's too much of a coward to do so, huh ? Would you like being fucked by him ? To fuck that whore ? Tell me, pretty. Should I send you his head ?"

Plus, the best part was when you'd run to him crying and telling him how much you're scared. Then, Ethan could be your knight in shining armor, promising you he'd protect you from your stalker. And it worked ! Strangely, each time you were stuck to him, Ghostface didn't call.

If only you knew.

[adventuringblind]

i loved your neurodivergent x oscar sm and i think it’s so cute. i love the way both their dynamics work with each other and it’s relatability!!

i was wondering if you could do more fics based on them in like different situations and how they both would care for each other in their own ways??

maybe you could make a fic based around the early stages of their relationship? i can imagine it being like really cute and both of them having to adapt to some of each others habits that they weren’t used to before, etc, and them both just being really caring and overall adorable towards each other!

i hope you’re having a lovely day btw!

Patterns of You

Oscar Piastrix Autistic!reader

Genre: fluff

Request: yep! I'm open for any ideas y'all have. I've been having fun with the autistic reader, so if you have anything specific in mind, please let me know!

Summary: You and Oscar adapt to eachothers way of living

Warnings: none :)

Notes: written in second person

Masterlist

You and Oscar hit it off

However, it still takes some getting used too for the both of you

Oscar likes trying different foods

You like sticking to the same foods

It took him awhile to learn your preference

He even made a list of things you specifically disliked and hung it on the fridge

He was aware you physically couldn't handle certain things

So he tried his hardest to make things that you both liked or could he made to one's specific preferences

Once he asked you to come with him to a barbecue at a friend's house

The party itself was chill

But the food options made you want to cry

You tired to be polite and eat a little but but you just ended up excusing yourself to the bathroom and gagging

Oscar was well aware of what was happening

He made sure you didn't feel the need to force yourself to eat something you couldn't

When he took you home that night, he purchased your favorite safe food and made it for you

He knew you needed food, and after the stress of everything at the barbecue, he figured your safe food might help to ease your senses

One thing he was not prepared for was the first time you had a meltdown

You'd told him exactly what happens and how you need to calm yourself down so that he wasn't clueless

It didn't stop him from being worried though

When you showed up with Oscar at the paddock for the first time, the journalists were all over you

They were loud, in your face, and in your personal space

It got overwhelming too quick

Your hands immediately cover your ears, and your breathing gets rapid

The worst part is that they follow you

Obviously, they didn't get that you didn't feel like talking to them

Oscar could actively feel your body shutting down

Tears escaping your eyes faster then you could wipe them away

He led you all the way to his driver room without stopping

Immediately, he watched you find the floor and curl into yourself

Oscar just stands guard and makes sure you don't need anything as you attempt to self-soothe

When you feel better, he lets you hold him or be held in whatever way you need

He started to adapt after that

He became Spiderman

It didn't matter where you were, if he was within five minutes of you, he knew if you felt overwhelmed or not

When you moved in with him, he made sure to give you a safe space

Somewhere that other people couldn't go and bother you if you needed time to yourself

Somtimes Oscar himself was your safe space

If you couldn't get away from the environment, he would envelope you in his arms

Letting you bury your face in his chest and breathe in his scent

It wasn't the best way of letting you calm down, but it worked in emergency situations when he couldn't get you out of there

Routine became the most popular shared thing between you two

You both had schedules and stuck to them

He noticed your mini routines inside of your schedule

You would always use the same good morning greeting, so he started using it too

It made you smile when the comforting words fell from his mouth

You always made the bed a specific way, so he memorized how so he could do it also

Vocal tones were the hardest thing for you to learn

Your parents deemed that the way you speak most the time had an ability to sound angry and sassy

This, in turn, made you over explain everything you said because you feared it would get you in trouble

Oscar could not understand for the life of him why one sentence became a three paragraph explanation

He eventually just started listening for keywords you used to get different tones across

When you asked questions about how he was meaning things, he didn't get it at first

When he was talking about work drama, he saw the pure look of confusion on your face

You were trying to decide if he was upset or just gossiping but had yet to figure it out

He understood after that

Needless to say you two eventually found your groove

Communication about communication became a vital point of success in your relationship

Oscar didn't mind having to adapt to something new

He loves you and is willing figure things out

Plus, the patterns you have make you more you