#and let’s just imagine he’s doesn’t have a creepy form at all

[little-pondhead]

I have a simple fascination and joy in the thought that, for the Ghost King AU, most of the time Danny is literally so normal compared to other ghosts.

Like, he’s a kid. He looks like a kid. Going by canon appearances, he is the most human looking ghost we see (aside from Ellie). Even Plasmius is more inhuman, which is where all the vampire jokes come from. Every single one of this enemies is off even in a human disguise. They’re not human, and people don’t expect them to be.

So aside from the implications of Danny looking like a child ghost, I wonder what other characters would think if they summon the Ghost King, expecting this huge monstrosity worse than anything they’ve ever seen, and getting a totally normal human-looking kid.

I’d be terrified. Because if horror movies have taught us anything, it’s that the most innocent and normal looking people are the worst monsters you’ve ever seen.

Like, what is he hiding??

[incognit0slut]

Permanent attachment

in which you’re far too comfortable to move from Spencer’s lap, and he doesn’t mind carrying you around

content: fluff, 1.7k, established relationship, lots of kissing, sex talk, kinda fade-to-black smut, reader being very clingy, and spencer’s tummy (my fav) a/n: i once told @mandarinmoons that i wanted to climb the man and not even in a sexual way and she said “like a koala?” and to that i answered YES! self-indulgent fics are the best

Spencer smells nice. Like, annoyingly nice. And it’s not the kind of nice that’s vaguely pleasant. No, this is the kind that settles into your bones. A mix of soap and something uniquely him that you can't quite name but would probably pay an unreasonable amount to bottle up.

Now that sounds like a dream. Imagine Spencer in a bottle, spritzed onto your neck, lingering on your skin. Imagine a personal cloud of him following you everywhere, with top notes of freshly brewed coffee and a base note of comfort that leaves you no choice but to lean in just a bit closer. You shift on his lap, pretending to get comfortable, but really, it's because you want to catch another whiff.

Your boyfriend catches you mid-inhale. "Comfortable?"

You don’t even bother pretending to be embarrassed. Who cares if he knows you’re borderline obsessed? Who wouldn’t be? He’s smart, handsome, and smells like heaven bottled in human form. So instead of pulling away, you double down, pressing your nose right into the curve of his neck as your answer.

"I'm starting to think you might be a little attached.”

You sigh against his skin, “Might be? Spencer, I'm practically grafted onto you at this point. You better get used to it."

A hand runs up your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, but my legs might actually fall asleep if I don’t get up soon.”

“So dramatic,” you tease, smiling as you press a soft kiss to his jaw. The subtle scrape of his stubble tickles your lips.

“I don’t think you’ve moved an inch in the past hour.”

“I don’t even want to move an inch,” you murmur against his cheek. "I just want to stay like this. Forever. If I could just crawl under your skin and stay there, that would be perfect.”

Spencer laughs softly, the sound rumbling under your lips. You feel the warmth of his smile as he tilts his head toward you. “That sounds sweet yet incredibly creepy.”

“You know what I mean!” You slide your arms around him, weaving them across his shoulders. “I just… I want to—ugh, I don't know… squeeze you so tight you’d become part of me? Like an extension of my arm or something."

“That definitely sounds less creepy.”

“Shut up.” Your lips trace the rough scratch of his jaw, brushing along the curve until you reach the corner of his mouth. "Don’t you want someone permanently glued to you?"

“You’re definitely making a case for it.”

“Oh I’d climb you if I had to.”

His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck. “Is this where I find out you’re secretly a koala this whole time?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum against his lips, “and you’re my tall, handsome tree.”

His laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you let yourself melt into him, breathing in that comforting scent you’ve grown addicted to. You love him so much. You love him too much that your heart feels like it’s stretching to make room for all of it.

When he finally pulls back, you can’t resist reaching up to smooth your thumb over his bottom lip. “See? Permanent attachment.”

His own thumb caresses the back of your neck in lazy strokes. You're practically dissolving into him.

"I don’t have much of a choice, do I?" The tip of your nose brushes against his as you shake your head. He steals another quick peck from your lips. "I really do need to get up though.”

You pout immediately. “Why?“

“Because my throat is actually starting to feel a little dry. I could use some water.”

“Water is overrated. Stay.”

“Honey,” he croons softly, his eyes squinting with that familiar crinkle at the corners. He thinks you’re cute when you’re clingy. “The kitchen is only ten feet away.”

“Ten feet too far. Do you know the kind of emotional damage I’ll suffer if we’re apart for too long?”

“So dramatic,” he mocks back, planting a kiss on your jaw, your cheek, and you giggle when his mouth lands on the skin between your ear and your neck. “All I’m asking for is ten feet. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“I might wither away from loneliness by the time you get back.”

You feel the ghost of his smile against your skin. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“I miss you already,” you sigh when he gently nips at the soft flesh of your neck. “Maybe you should just take me with you.”

You’re mostly bluffing, half-expecting him to laugh it off because Spencer has never actually carried you before. Not that you’ve ever minded—it’s not exactly the first thing you’d expect from him. But before you can even process it, he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under your knee and the other around your back with surprising confidence.

And just like that, the floor seems miles away as he lifts you up.

“Wait! Wait!” you laugh, clutching at his shoulders. "Spencer!"

“I thought you wanted to come along."

“I didn’t think you’d actually carry me!”

You’re met with his steady grip, and to your surprise, he’s not struggling in the slightest. Apparently, those arms are stronger than you’d given him credit for, and it’s… well, very, very attractive. He strides confidently across the apartment, and you can’t help but let out an impressed, slightly flustered, “Okay, this is actually kind of hot.”

The corners of his lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I did not know you were strong enough to do this,” you comment, then a thought sneaks into your mind, “Do you think we can try this position in the bedroom?”

He looks surprised and mildly amused. “Really? While standing?”

You loop your arms tighter around his neck. “You seem perfectly capable.”

“Wouldn’t I be doing all the work?”

“I thought you liked doing all the work.”

His chest presses against yours as he lets out another laugh. “If by that you mean spoil you, then yes, I do,” he says, casting a quick glance around the room. “Can I sit you on the counter, or are you planning to keep hanging on to me?”

“Tempting, but you can put me on the counter.”

With a gentle ease, he lifts you just slightly higher and sets you down on the cool countertop. “I can still carry you around if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to brush a stray lock of curls from his face. “I don’t want to tire you out.”

“You’re not tiring me out,” he assures you as he reaches up to grab a glass from the top shelf, arm stretching just enough to give you a teasing glimpse of his soft stomach.

You can’t help yourself. You reach over and splay your hands over that warm skin, feeling the faint tickle of the fine hair scattered down his belly that disappears into his waistband. He doesn’t flinch—he’s long used to your hands finding their way to him like this—but he does cast a sidelong look in your direction. Behave.

If he’s expecting you to follow some sense of decorum, he should know better by now. You give his stomach a gentle, almost smug pat, and shakes his head as he moves to pour himself water.

“What do you want to do after this?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder. You don’t give him an immediate answer, but he’s already suggesting a few ideas for the rest of the evening.

You can’t even pretend to pay attention. Is it normal to be this obsessed with your boyfriend? Because at this point, your focus isn’t even on the words coming out of his mouth. Something about a documentary, maybe. He’s probably rattling off the details right now, but you’re entirely distracted, your eyes shamelessly zooming in on the way his forearm flexes as he holds the glass. Even the soft hair dusting over his skin is doing things to you.

He catches your blatant stare and looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“What?”

“You are so sexy.”

He almost chokes on his water. The glass clatters against the countertop as he sputters, “What has gotten into you today?”

Probably ovulation. But you simply shrug, legs swinging idly against the cabinets beneath you. “I just love you.”

The answer is simple. Words spoken with all the casual sincerity you feel, but it’s enough to melt his astonishment into affection as he strides over and slips between your thighs.

“You just love me?”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, reaching up to brush over the delicious roughness of his stubble. “Like a ridiculous amount. Probably too much.”

His heart is swelling, so full it feels like it’s about to burst. “I love you too.”

“That’s it?”

You watch as his nose twitches, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips before he sighs, “I love you so much, angel."

"I think you can do better than that."

He huffs a chuckle, "I love you too much," he tries again, "more than I even know what to do with."

You smile in satisfaction, a little triumphant over his exaggeration. You’ve taught him well. “Say it again.”

The wide expanse of his palms settles on your waist.

“I am madly,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “deeply,” another finds its way to your jaw, “hopelessly,” he murmurs as he grows even closer to your lips, “in love,” he’s a breath away from yours, “with you.”

The space between you shrinks to nothing. You swallow his last words, letting them dissolve on your tongue like the sweetest confection. What begins as a delicate melding of warmth and breath quickly intensifies, as though he’s determined to steal every bit of air from your lungs. And before you know it, his hands are sliding under you.

A surprised squeal escapes your lips as he lifts your weight, and an even louder gasp follows when he carries you toward the bedroom.

You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the evening.

[hiddenavenues]

hii !

i saw ur post about fluffy Logan oneshots so i have one :D if this is not what ur looking for, pls feel free to ignore !!

maybe touch starved reader who constantly clings to Logan and he asks about it and reader gets nervous that they pushed a boundary and stop only for Logan to be like “wtf no i love when u cling to me, pls keep doing it”

no pressure at all, have a nice evening / morning !!

A Soft Place to Land

a/n: Hi Anon! Thank you for your request. I am so sorry this has taken so long, life went kind of crazy for a second, but it's sorting itself out now! I hope you enjoy the drabble <3

Logan Howlett x TouchStarved!GN!Reader

CW: some mentions of jealousy, reader seems pretty anxious, just some good ole' fluff

Watching how Scott and Jean held each other, or even how the kids would comfort one another, you could feel jealousy curling around your mind at the absentminded tenderness in every touch. You’d spend countless nights awake, craving the touch of another while you wrapped your arms around yourself, fingers pressing into your skin just to feel something.

It gnawed at you, quiet and constant, slipping into the quiet spaces of your mind when you were alone. You’d close your eyes and imagine what it might feel like to rest your head on someone’s shoulder, to let the warmth of another’s touch seep into your skin and quiet the restlessness within you. It was always fleeting, a memory of something you've only had in fleeting moments.

Then there was Logan. The brooding, gruff exterior everyone seemed to shy away from became your refuge. It started as fleeting touches, knuckles grazing against his when you walked, shoulders bumping when you sat together. Before you knew it, you found yourself constantly lingering in his presence, your touch becoming more purposeful. Tracing shapes into the palm of his hand during long meetings or leaning on his shoulder after a mission, his head resting on top of yours. It was rare for you to be seen far apart, the school knew you were bound to be nearby if Logan was around.

You’re not sure when it started, the constant burn beneath your skin only satisfied by his touch. You started finding ways to get him to touch you, asking for help with your hair or applying bandaids. Now, you stood before Logan with a bracelet in hand, feigning an excuse of needing help to put it on. You didn’t miss the way Logan notched a brow at your request, eyeing the bracelet he knows you’ve put on yourself countless times. You fiddled with the jewelry in your palm, gaze nervously darting around his face as a familiar pit forms in your stomach at his hesitation. A heartbeat later, Logan opens the door wide for you to enter, knuckles grazing as you pass him. 

Logan’s fingers daftly inspect the jewelry before draping it over your wrist, each graze of his fingers deepening the blush on your cheeks. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and from the smirk on Logan’s face, you had a feeling he could hear how it quickened. 

“Why you always around me, bub?” Logan asks nonchalantly as he clasps the bracelet, fingers still ghosting over your arm. 

You swallow, feeling the words catch in your throat as you search for a response. You hadn’t considered Logan noticing, much less him asking you outright. The question hangs in the air as his eyes search your face, something curious and unguarded in them. You struggle to find a response that doesn’t make you sound desperate and scare him off.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to,” You murmur, taking your arm away from his touch, clutching it to your chest as if to slow your racing heart. You look away, face burning beneath the weight of his gaze. “I’ll stop. Must be kinda creepy, constantly hovering around you.” You force a weak laugh.

A beat passes, the crushing silence presses against your chest, wrapping around you until each breath feels like a struggle. When you gather the courage to meet his eyes again, his expression has softened, the usual guarded look slipping. He shifts closer, bringing his face level with yours, and the intensity in his gaze holds you captive. 

“Don’t do that,” Logan’s breath fans your face with each word, mouth inches from yours. “Ain’t nobody said I didn’t like it.” His words are rough, each one lifting a weight from your chest. His eyes dart away to study the floor as his cheeks flush a deep crimson. “Ain’t used to people hanging around this much but… I don’t mind so much with you.” 

A pause before he shrugs as if trying to shake off the weight of his words. “Guess you don’t bother me as much as most folks do.” Logan straightens but doesn’t step back. His face remained aloof, but his cheeks were still rosy as vulnerability oozed from his gaze. “So quit worrying about ‘creeping me out.’ You’re good.” 

Logan’s kind words curled around your heart, a smile gracing your lips as you look at him. “So what I’m hearing is you're saying I can bug you even more now?” You joke, nudging his shoulder. 

He scoffs, dramatically rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t push it, bub.”

---

Likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

[radio-fmm]

Kitchen counter

Fluff drabble + gn reader

Masterlist

Law almost jumps out of his skin when he spots you drowsy on the kitchen counter, alone in silence underneath the white lights of the submarine, almost like a lucid dream

He approaches you from behind, keeping silent

He towers over you even when sitting down, his eyes wonder on your peaceful face, eyes closed, hand under your chin while the other stays clinging to your cup of tea

You hate tea, you must’ve been desperate, looking for a cure to your sleepless night

He admires you for a while, not noticing he may appear a little bit creepy just staring, but you look just so effortlessly dreamy

“I can feel you staring, Captain” you mutter, your voice soft like a summer breeze, but it shakes Law to his core

He takes a step back and panics, but as your giggles meets his ears, he relaxes, a smirk forming in his lips as he decides to sit beside you

“Sleeping on the kitchen won’t help you rest better” you let out a tired sigh, your head turning to your Captain

When your eyes meet, Law can’t help but wonder if you always look at him the way you’re looking at him now, full of adoration, like he’s the answer to all of your problems

The calmness of the late night allows him to unravel, savoring the moment of your shared presence, bodies tired and souls alight

“I just had a long day”

He knew this. At very early hours of the day, he had heard your loud screaming trough the hallways of the sub, bashing over Satchi and Penguin who had thrown away an important paper you had been working on when they were tasked with cleaning your office

So you had to redo the whole paperwork

Because of this, you were late for dinner and the worst thing imaginable had happened, you didn’t get any dessert

Your favorite part of the day

Suddenly, Law feels a weight on his shoulder, he turns to see your head nuzzled on his side, eyes lost looking at the emptiness of the kitchen. A new feeling forms in his heart, he can feel it reeling going a mile per minute, warmth irradiates from his flushed face, and even though this feeling is new and alien, he likes it

Another silence falls over both, but this one’s different, this one is sweet, homely and welcome, a silence that speaks louder than any words could

Scared, Law allows his head to fall over yours, the way his body fits with yours in prefect harmony makes his heart swell. He closes his eyes and prays for this moment to remain forever, he wants you all to himself like this everyday

After a while, your weight falls slack, he peeks to see you completely asleep. He smiles to himself, a hand traveling to push away the lost strands of hair, showing him a full picture of your beautiful face

Big mistake

Another wave of that same emotion he felt moments ago washes over him, what were you doing to this poor man?

What was he to do now?

Ever so gently, he removes his arm to support your back while the other goes down to your feet so he can pick you up bridal style, keeping you close to his chest. As he walks you to your room, he feels you clenching at his shirt, looking for his warmth

He lets you down light as a feather, but a part of him doesn’t want to let go, a part of him wants to take you away

He peeks at Ikkaku’s bed praying to every god above that she hasn’t woken up, to his delight she is fast asleep without a care in the world. He tucks you in with the outmost care, before he stares at you yet again, burning this moment into his memory

“Good night” he whispers, making his way out to his bed

As he drifts to sleep he wonders if having you by his side every night would help you sleep better

It’ll help him sleep better that’s for sure

[stardew-shitposterino]

Stardew Valley Bachelors and how they deal with their secret crush on the farmer

———-——————————

BEHOOOOLD! I’m kind of back but I’m not because I have a job and feel tired most of the time. I still need to get used to adult life. Anyway, here are the bachelors and how they deal with having a fat crush on you, you cutesy farmer person covered in filth!

Contents might be a bit NSFW so MINORS…you know what not to do *fights them off with a stick*

Enjoy my brainrot 🍓🥰

Sam:

-Sammy is a cute little guy, almost like a dog wagging it’s tail when they see their owner.

-he is SO BAD at hiding it

-he will dream about you two jamming on a big stage together. In his ideal world, you two are a successful duo who make noise rock (kind of like the white stripes minus the weird siblings or married controversy)

-Sam will write songs about you. It’s not intentional per say, and he thinks he really sucks at writing love songs, but it just happens whenever he has to think about you. The words just start flowing.

-he might or might not have had some steamy shower fantasies about you…while in the shower. Jodie keeps complaining about the water bill being unusually high 👀

-yet, Sam is usually not too horny when he is in love with you. He is more gushy and daydreamy than anything

Sebastian:

-homeboy works with nightcore versions of love songs to cope with his longing

-he isn’t the type to show his feelings so openly, so no one really notices his crush on you. Maybe Sam, but well, he is Seb’s best bud. Of course he can tell

-He notices how his sleep has improved since having a crush on you. He willingly goes to bed earlier to have some time to imagine scenarios of you two

-just you and him together on his cool ass motorcycle, driving into the night and ending it with a passionate kiss (sounds familiar?)

-well,,, let’s just say Seb is increasingly horny since having a crush on you. Before, he was almost certain he is some sort of asexual, but nope 😃 he’s healthy and extremely down bad for the filthy farmer who eats raw fish out of the pond 🥰

-what I mean by horny? Uhhh… he didn’t really need to rely on certain websites to satisfy his needs, that’s for sure 👀

Harvey:

-Harvey is a good man. A very good man

-god bless his soul 😫

-Harv isn’t the type to have crushes easily…I can’t believe it either, considering his crush on Maru who is way younger than him 💀

-but in my head, he isn’t the type to be all lovey dovey over someone. That’s why he’s so bad at hiding it. But you don’t really notice. You just suspect it but it could also be his usual anxiety lol

-it happened anyway😎 and he doesn’t know how to cope. At all.

-he has to think about you at all times, especially when he looks at the empty jars of delicious pickles you’ve made him

-This man is usually collected, but now?! He forgets everything, can’t even form a comprehensible sentence at times when his mind is busy thinking about a romantic picknick date with a lovely farmer

-Harvey’s libido is pretty much a dead beat horse 💀 but now he even feels the desire to do some nasty nasty at times. It’s still pretty tame, he’s a gentleman through and through, but wild for him to have those feelings and longings after what feels like decades. He’s not mad at it. He has felt low-key dead inside for so long so this is very exciting and he’s eager to explore this side of him…despite being anxious 😭

Elliott:

-bet your ass he’s the prince of crushes

-he is very dedicated and welcomes those refreshing feelings with a kiss

-feeling better than usual AND having inspiration to write ?! SIGN HIM UP

-he will use every chance he can get to talk to you, maybe even get you drunk (in a non creepy way) because he likes when you’re unapologetically authentic and let loose. It makes him feel more in touch with your soul (or some shit idk I’m not a poet)

-Elliott is NOT SUBTLE

-you practically know from the start that he has the hots for you, but it’s kinda funny seeing him try to pretend it’s not that way…if you can even call that pretending not to be 😭

- his passion doesn’t end at his artistry. This guy will spend a lot of time in his shower thinking about what could be, or sitting at the docks at night just staring at the sea (he’s NOT doing anything nasty in public, peeps. Don’t get it twisted)

-I can also see him recreate a romantic bedroom date he’d love to have with you…but it’s just him 🤷🏼‍♀️ self care king 👑

Shane:

-like Harvey: HE CANNOT COPE!

-he hasn’t felt like this since high school. Every other encounter with potential partners was surface level and only based on sexual satisfaction

-so caring about you, thinking about what makes you happy and how he could be the reason you smile every day, that’s a lot for him

-as stupid as it sounds, he spirals and becomes low-key miserable over it. Give this man a 101 lesson on how to process emotions 😭

-despite the constant anxiety he feels, he low-key enjoys it. It’s kind of hopeless as well as pointless in his honest opinion, but there is this believe, that 0.00001% chance (in his mind) that he could turn his life around and be happy with you, married and maybe have a child of his own one day

-but that’s wishful thinking, riiiiiiight? So what does a self loathing piece of alcoholic man do instead of making a move? Yeah, self pleasure even more than usual, to get at least a bit of serotonin and the willpower to get his shit together, at least for you if it isn’t for him. He’s pretty rough with it too (ouch, unless you’re into that)

-sorry bros but him having a crush is not really all that cute. He’s my cutie pie, but let’s be real: him dealing with those feelings he tried to shut off for so long will be tragic in a way. He’s battling his inner demons here. So yeah… :(

Alex:

-my man, my maaaaan 🥰

-he has earned a soft spot in my heart, bless his soul

-so Alex has a crush on you from the start, it’s basically canon

-can he show his feelings? Yes! Can he do that in a way that can be read as the feelings he tries to get across to you? NO!

-low-key bullying is his love language 🥰

-at least in the beginning. He’s a bit anxious and fears he isn’t good enough for you, so he doesn’t try to be authentic. Being the jock jerk everyone expects him to be gets a reaction out of you and that’s better than nothing, right?

-he’s neither the poetic nor the intellectual type, so he doesn’t process his emotions by writing them down or putting them into words. Just imagine him going about his work-out routine, just thinking about your beautiful smile and rocking bod while sweating like a hog

-Alex and quiet ? Yes that’s possible. I imagine him to go quieter than usual since having a crush on you. He processes everything internally and that takes a lot of time for him as he usually just shrugs off his emotions and doesn’t try to brood too much on them. But now?! He can’t but blush in silence as he just imagines how soft and small your hands must be next to his (yours are way more impressive than his and calloused to the gods, but let him have this moment)

-when it comes to being nasty…Alex is a serial romantic. We know that he probably was the lady’s man back in school so he probably got some action one way or another. In other words, man has the libido of a teen that just hit puberty 💀

-despite being quite horny, he was able to manage to just do it every other day. Now, he cannot even get out of bed in the morning before doing it as you pester his dreams and make his hormones go crazy first thing in the morning…so many nice boxer shorts were lost along the way 🫡

-he also did his own laundry for the first time during that period lmfao

[bridgeicesbeforeroadif]

Bridge Ices Before Road!

Links: DEMO-PATREON-FORUM

Updated 10/29/24

~Summary~

Was there anything that could get between you and a gold medal?

Well, yes. A lot of things. There’s your family, including your annoying younger sibling. Moving back home with them will be tough, but it allows you to focus on your gains. There are competitions to win, and you have to stay in peak condition all the while. You also have your mother breathing down your neck to make sure nothing jeopardizes your chances at success. Your father is more hands-off. He almost always has half of his mind on work, even when he’s at home.

Your coach will guide you through the ups and downs of skating, as they’ve never let you down before. They remind you of your father a bit, never able to fully turn off part of their brain that thinks about work. You hope they remember to relax, and let you do the same.

Your childhood friend-turned-rival is always one step ahead of you these days. They beat you out as part of the top couple in the pairs free skate last year, and since then you haven’t been able to top their performances. You used to be friends, but now there was a fire in their eyes when they looked at you. Will you be able to mend this friendship?

Even worse, you run into an old bully of yours (that you might secretly have had a crush on since forever ago) who has just been appointed the captain of the local hockey team. He plays at your local rink now, and that means you’ll be seeing each other more than you’d like.

You find a friend in a fellow skater who becomes something of a pen-pal to you. They reach out over social media, and there’s an instant connection. They’re a total sweetheart, and you can’t wait to meet them at the first event.

 Finding your place again in your old hometown might sound tough, but nothing is tougher than being an Olympic athlete. You have to juggle training along with all that, but you try not to let it get you down. After all, skating is your passion!

Don't let the creepy figure outside your bedroom at night get you down. If you ignore it, it will be fine. It was just your imagination... right? Draw the curtains, drink some warm milk, and put on some music to drown out the haunting song whistled into the gaps in your windows. Tonight, you escape into your dreams knowing all the exits are locked up tight and there's no way in. It's all in your head.

But remember, escaping isn’t always an option.

~Features~

Customize your MC! Name, sexuality, appearance, hair, eyes, clothing, and more! (MC is genderlocked female)

Find friendship or romance in the least likely places! Each route has its own ups and downs with tailored story-telling.

Get stalked by a really big fan. No, I mean like a REALLY big fan. They know things about you that no one else does! Will you get away? Or will you be unable to stop their villainous plot?

Win (or lose) against the best skaters in the country– and the world!

~Romance Options~

Dallas Doverman

 male/6’0/20yo

 The hockey team captain. He bullied you in elementary and middle school. You can select whether or not you had a crush on him. They certainly had one on you, and that’s why they picked on you so much, not that you knew. Nowadays, instead of helping his dad around at the skate rental and pulling your pigtails, he plays ice hockey with the big boys. He was the youngest on the team, but still made captain in such a short time.

Dallas is tall and broad. His straight black hair is longer on top and rests above his ears, trimmed short on the sides. He’s grown a lot and lost that old baby fat that clung to his cheeks. A dark beard forms on his face, but doesn’t fully block out his skin.

Vincenzo/Valentina Ciolfi

 selectable m or f/5’8 or 5’5/18yo

 They were once your friend. Then, you went to Boxcroft and they didn’t. It was a shock to everyone, V included.  They swore to get better and become your superior someday. You hadn’t expected it to affect your relationship, but it did. You drifted apart, their hostility ever-growing and there was nothing you could do about it. 

With dewy, caramel skin and shoulder-length golden brown and almost blonde locs kept in a low ponytail, V just screams “over it.” They did not care enough to do anything to their hair or pick out a nice outfit. They do that for competitions, and that’s enough.

Argo/Allegra Papandreou

 Selectable m or f/5’10 or 5’6/28yo

 Your coach. They were just like you, hailed as a prodigy until they graduated school, then they stopped being a rising star and became a plateauing one. You followed their career almost religiously, and always wondered what changed. They only started coaching for you. Before that, they worked in accounting, the business for which they got their degree. You couldn’t believe that was what happened to the Starchild of Skating in the 2010’s. They saw real talent in you at a young age and changed career paths. You hope you weren’t a mistake.

Dark brown hair falls in waves over Argo’s ears. Anita wears hers long, down to her waist. They are leanly muscled, but toned all over. Even after years of being out of the game, they had not let their body grow flabby or let it fall out of use. They look as ripped as they did in their teens when they stole the show at Nationals when they were your age.

Bernhard Wagner

 male/6’5/20yo

 Someone that will eventually face you at the Olympics, you think. He’s friendlier than a competitor has any right to be and reached out to you in your private messages on Blipsta. He always speaks in a really cute way, with all kinds of emojis. He complimented your technique and you got to talking. He made it so easy to open up to him.

You don’t know what Bernhard looks like, not really. He did tell you that he’s tall and has blonde hair, but you kind of expected that. You guess you just have to wait to meet him.

[merakiui]

Adding onto step bro Skully (✦ ‿ ✦) imagine step bro needing to talk himself in and out of peeking into the wash room while she's bathing. That would be creepy right??? B-but seeing the outline of your naked form would be really nice. Putting a body image into that lingerie would quell just enough...surely. And finally he sneaks a peek, just opening the door enough to see in without you noticing too much, to see you in the submerged in the bath chest barely covered and legs propped upwards out of the bath only bubbles covering part of your body while your head is laid back clearly enjoying your time.

WAAA YES!!! >w< he thinks it’s such a delightful sight. The bubbles allow his very vivid imagination to fill in the blanks, providing him with all kinds of lewd thoughts. You look so peaceful relaxing in the warm bath. If only he could be there in the bath with you… aaa,,, but maybe that’s too weird. You’re both grown and he’s way too tall. >_< he’d take up too much space with his awkward, lanky limbs. But it’d be so romantic to bathe together, to take turns washing the other, to enjoy floral scented baths, to have you lean against his chest and fall asleep right there, comforted in his embrace!!!! AAAAA OTL he has to turn away from the door before he accidentally falls in or makes any sounds from the amount of swooning he’s doing. ;;;

Skully doesn’t intend to become a thief, but he can’t help swiping some of your panties for himself. You’ll never notice they’re gone. He just,,, needs them. He likes how soft they are wrapped around his dick; he likes thinking about how these same panties definitely touched that soft pussy of yours…… in a way, isn’t this just indirect sex?!?! \(//∇//)\ sometimes he’ll spray your perfume on his sheets or pillows just to fall asleep in your pretty smell, imagining you spread out on his bed, inviting him to join you…. it’s a dream that’s so delightfully intimate that he wakes with an aching hard-on. :( the sad reality is that it’s only just a dream.

Sometimes he creeps into your room just to watch you sleep. Maybe he even sleeps under your bed or in the closet… tucking himself away so that when morning comes he can watch you do your daily routine. He can watch you dress yourself, do your makeup, bend over to pick up dirty laundry……… he knows it’s poor manners and he knows you’ll think he’s a gross, pathetic creep, but sometimes he gets hard watching you and one time it was so bad he just had to slowly pump himself to the sight of you going through pretty outfits for a night out with friends. The lacy panties, the lewd bras, the dresses and skirts, the cute tops… you’re so pretty,,, such a beautiful darling. His dear stepsister… he could admire you forever, burn this image into his brain and let it remain there for all of eternity.

Skully wants nothing more than to plaster you to the bed and fuck into you slow and sweet, watching your tits jiggle with every thrust, watching your hazy expression twist with pleasure, listening to the soft gasps that spill from parted lips!!! He has to bite down hard on his lip so you won’t hear his whimper when he cums into an old pair of panties he found lying haphazardly in the back of your closet.

Or when the two of you watch movies together!! These are the moments Skully looks forward to the most. Movie nights with you are special, sacred times. You bond over horror films and, of course, the nightly rewatch of his favorite: The Nightmare Before Christmas. But sometimes you’ll watch a movie and a sex scene will come on, and he’s so incredibly awkward throughout the entire thing. He keeps stealing glances at you, wondering what you’re thinking about. If he lets his mind wander, it’s you he sees on the screen. He imagines himself in those positions with you: pressing you against a window, bending you over a surface, lying back and watching you lower yourself onto his dick…… he fidgets with the pillow placed over his lap. He’d die if you saw his erection straining against his trousers. >_<

But sometimes he just wants to take you to dinner and court you properly like a gentleman from Victorian times. He probably writes lots of poetry about you. You’re his favorite thing next to Jack Skellington and everything NBC. He idolizes you. <3

[strawberymilku]

Hate fuck

featuring: Blade x female!Reader

genre: smut, hate fuck, a lot of swearing, mentions of slut and whores, blowjob, degrading, slapping, choking, rough sex, enemies to lover arc, daddy kink, unprotected sex, doggy style, creampie

a/n: i really wanted to write a hate fuck for so long, so i tried. reader is a horny mf, so blade gotta show who that toy belongs to.

word count: 3.2k

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"I really hate you," the girl Stellaron Hunter muttered, he stole her snacks form the fridge as always.

Blade smirked, the edge of his eyebrow raised.

"And yet if I wasn’t here, you’d be bored out of your mind. I don’t think you want that, Princess."

"Don't Princess me, I never share food, you know that," she hissed, throwing the half eaten cake, in the bin, glaring at him.

"Now now, is that any way to treat your enemy?" His smirk got wider, revealing just how much of an annoying bastard he could be. The bastard part was mostly true, it was the annoying part which was up for debate.

"Besides, I’m still pretty hungry…"

"How about I touch your sword, do you like it?" she intentionally touched his weapon, smudging it with the icing she touched just now, just to tilt him further.

He rolled his eyes. His sword was the last thing he wanted a careless girl like her touching. Then again, it was hard to deny how attractive she truly was. In a more perfect world, the two of them would end up together. But unfortunately, this wasn’t one of those. A smirk once again spread across his lips, his hands quickly reaching over to hers, his thumb stroking the inside of her palm as he held her wrist, bringing it closer to his mouth.

Her anger turned into frustration as he took her hand and licked the cream off her hand on purpose, kneeling down in front of her, however wasn't pleasurable on her face as it turned into a scowl, removing her hand from his grip. "You're disgusting, really." she slapped his face away, backing off from her seat.

Blade stood up and looked at her with a small smirk. Though her anger was far from being cute, he still had no regrets in his actions. That was just how he was, a disgusting bastard.

"You’re no different, darling. How many times have I seen you walk in late with a different person each time? I doubt you even know their names."

"It's none of your business," she furrowed her eyebrows, pissed at how observant he was with her, it was rather creepy.

"Aren't you just Kafka's little lapdog?" she had crossed that line, wayy cross that line. His face turned into huge rage, staring her dead in her eyes.

"Don’t you even go there, you filthy whore." his voice got louder as he glared at her. His expression twisted and his body language was now more threatening, even. No one dared to call him Kafka’s lapdog, and especially not from her. Blade was his own man.

"Isn't that why you joined the Stellaron Hunters, you're just her boy toy," she grinned. It was just her assumptions, he had his other reasons but that doesn’t matter, she was literally humiliating her. He cannot allow that.

Blade’s blood boiled. He had only a few things that could get him really riled up, and being associated with Kafka was one of them.

"You little slut. I’ll have you know, I did not join because of her. I have my own reasons for doing so, and they do not involve that woman."

"Don't call me a slut, you are a simp. A literal simp, do you even know what that means?" she snickered, enjoying to see his angry facial expression.

He was just about done with her. He clenched his hands, the veins on his forearms bulging. How much he wish to destroy her right at the moment, he imagined if his cum was all over her face, he want to humiliate her right there, but he kept his composure.

"Shut the hell up and keep your mouth shut. Don’t think that just because I didn’t join because of her means that I’m a simp." he tried to act calm instead, folding his arms.

Blade sighed, running his hands through his hair. He had let her get to him too easily. She was clearly trying to piss him off, and she had succeeded. In response, he was simply going to have to do the same.

"You know, now that I've actually gotten to talk to you for more than a few minutes, I can see exactly how much of a disappointment you are to everyone around you. Your parents must be ashamed to have you as a daughter."

"Don't bring my parents into this..." she looked up at him, he had gone way too far, she got up from his seat, approaching with him with her fan made of different blades attached to it, pointing on his neck.

He smirked, noticing his remark must have gotten to her. That is the exact reaction he had been wanting for. He raised a brow when her fan approached his neck, though he didn’t bat an eye at that either. The only thing he seemed interested in was the fact he had successfully gotten her.

"Or what? You’re going to hurt me? Come on, do it then."

She dug his skin with the point of the blade as it went further deeper, but she held her urges for murdering him, which she knew Kafka would come after her, for not getting along. "You have gone way too far, Blade. Take it back," she growled, looking into his red and golden gradient eyes.

Blade didn’t even flinch. In fact, he only smirked while blood slowly dropped down his neck. This certainly hurt, though he decided it was too late to back up now. Her anger was already through the roof. So all there was left to do was continue what he did best - piss her off.

“Make me.”

It seemed he was going to have to show her who was boss. With some quick and fluid motions, he was able to knock her backwards and pinned her to the wall using nothing but the strength of his arms. The red stains on his neck had now gone all the way from the front down to the back. He leaned in close, his body heat and breath filling her face. He liked how he had power here.

"Let go of me you lapdog," she looked above him, but he was twice her size.

“No.” Blade smirked, gripping her shoulders tightly. “Now tell me, little girl. Who’s the one in charge here? Who decides what happens and what doesn’t? Answer me.”

"No, what I said was right," she shrugged, daring to look at him back, or even say a word against him.

It made him smirk- he was enjoying this. It was a power trip for him. The satisfaction that came from him having complete control over her.

"That’s not how this works, darling." He leaned in even closer and whispered. "Say it."

"I'm sorry for calling you Kafka's lapdog, although which is true.." she apologized, giving it a half ass sincere words.

He finally released his grip from her, pulling her slightly closer. Now they were eye-to-eye, she was probably now noticing just how much of a height difference they had. But other than that, he was now in a much more relaxed position.

"At this rate it seems to me like you’re begging for a kiss." Blade said, his voice laced with an air of smugness.

"Quite the confidence you have, who said I want to kiss you," she rolled her eyes, wanting to push him away from her, ready to get out of the room, wanting to storm in Kafka’s office room and file a report but first she need to escape from his strong grip.

“Tell me, what’s stopping you?” Blade said, his voice getting more seductive with each word.

"Hmm, yes there is, actually, you got a pretty face but an ugly personality, nah not a man in my eyes" she hummed, wanting to piss him off, if she could.

“Is that so?” He smirked and got even closer to her. His breath and body heat were now on her face, his lips only a few inches from hers.

“Hate me all you want, but I see the way you look at me. Your anger clearly hides this intense lust for me. It’s clear as day how much you want me.”

"Oh please, aren't you jerking off the pictures Silver Wolf took for me?" her forehead vein was twitching from the bitter truth, exposing him to tilt him even more.

Blade got pissed just from those words alone. She had clearly touched a spot he was uncomfortable with. Now he was going to make her regret it.

“Shut up, you little whore.” he hissed, his voice dripping with anger and hatred. “I’m surprised you haven’t begged for me to punish you yet.”

"Why should I? I knew you want me," she looked smug, saying the words to drill it in his head.

Blade froze for a moment. Was she... actually enjoying this? That made him madder than anything! But... he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it a little bit himself. Blade leaned in even closer, his voice now laced with a sadistic and condescending tone.

“And I think you want me too, honey.”

She scoffed at that line he told her, but she could feel his grip on her soft arms, still pinning on her wall. It was true, she wants him too, and why are they acting so tough about it. "You're a bit delusional, Bladie" she hid her true self again.

He was enjoying this game more than he let on. He pulled her even closer.

“How cute... I wonder why you keep calling me delusional. Could it be because you’re afraid to let yourself be vulnerable to me?”

"You're so annoying, can I just shut you up already?" she whispered, she could feel his breath so close.

Blade smirked at her request. He was tempted. It’d be so easy... with a quick movement, he could pull her in fully, and their lips would meet. It was a simple motion. However, his mouth remained shut. Instead, he gave her that seductive smirk once more, his eyes locked on hers.

“Make me.”

She pushed her head, their nose were already touching, the proximity was too close, but she was such a tease, she didn't kiss him yet, she just want to push his buttons, their lips just a centimeter away, she let out a giggle as she earned a growl from his impatience.

Blade finally pulled her in and their lips met. His tongue swirled around her mouth, their tongues making contact. It was the most passionate kiss he had ever shared with anyone. She’d finally broken him. His hands grabbed her by her waist, his grip slightly tight, pulling her closer to his body. Blade just wanted to forget everything else. It was just them, now. Just this moment. All he wanted was to keep kissing. Keep kissing until she lost breath.

She bit his bottom lip, until he part away for air, a saliva string was formed after they cut their hot headed kiss, she looked up at him for answers, but she really enjoyed the kiss as much as he does.

They fuel their hate into desires, she was placed on his laps on the sofa, as she kissed him deeply, head tilted so they could deepened the kiss, she touched his bandaged chest, trying to take the bandage off goddamn slowly as they continued kiss.

Blade wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her even closer to him. Their hot-headed love-hate kiss was growing more and more intense with each passing moment. Blade didn’t even realize how much his hands had began to explore her body, one of them slipping between her legs, squeezing her ass. She was right, he was a bit of a simp.

“Get down now,” he ordered her, he unbuckled his pants as he made her kneel down, he put a thumb softly inside her mouth. “Okay, suck it, whore.” he loved how obedient she was. “Now, beg, beg for my dick, Princess” the girl glared at him underneath but she was down bad for one right now.

“Please, can I suck your cock, daddy?” she gave with such submissive pleading eyes.

“I’d hate myself if I weren’t to give you one, know you place, slut.” he sprung out his massive cock, twitching with precum just from her whines, veins popping but he chose to slap it across her face.

“Say, who is in charge right now?” he asked for more powerplay.

“You, daddy.” she replied trying to lick his tip as he inserted the entrance of her mouth.

“Suck it, suck it like you mean it,” he growled in a moment of satisfaction, he wanted her like this, taking in his cock in her mouth, wanting to shut that blabby mouth shut like this.

The girl listened to his demands, sucking him as if she needed that dick for so long, her cheeks hollowed, trying to earn more moans and heavy pants from him.

“I hate you so much I want to fuck that mouth of yours,” his hips pushed more, as the tip touched the girl’s throat. His hand held her head, as he fucked his throat as much as he want.

“That’s what you deserve,” he hissed, every thrust as he could feel the inside of her throat, the poor girl was tearing up from gagging off his huge dick.

“Deserved to be fucked by the mouth, can’t talk anymore?” he laughed evilly, going feral as she continued to suck as tears formed under her eyes, he wiped that tears off from her pretty face.

“You can take more, no?” he liked it, liked how much control he has right now. The girl shook her head but he didn’t like that answer, pushing his cock further in her throat.

He kept fucking her mouth as if she was a toy made just for her.

“That’s for the boys you have been fucking with,” he pushed his hips deep as the balls were touching her chins. He could feel his orgasms near in just a moment.

Before he cum, he took off his dick, giving it a few pumps as he came all over her pretty face, just like how he imagined. He grabbed his phone, snapping a few shots of the facial he painted on her face, as if it was a masterpiece he made. “Hey, that’s not-” she had no right to deny.

“Yes, it is. God, you look so pretty for me, Princess. I will be saving this picture,” he showed her the snap he took. “Gotta make it a wallpaper for me to stare,” he tossed the phone on the table. He carried her body in one arm, making it in a bridal style. She looked so small in his arms.

"I hate you so much," she whispered in his ears. She really hate in for wanting him so much, she wanted to see what will happen next.

“Hate is just a replacement for love, dear.” Blade smirked and whispered back, his breath now hitting behind her ear, giving a few nibbles on her earlobes, placing her on his mattress. He got on top of the bed, ready to fuck so she stop talking as well.

"No, it's true I hated you, Bladie," she could feel his hands roaming on her body, as if he already owned her as his.

“Keep telling yourself that if it’s going to help you sleep at night, darling.” He smirked again and looked down at her. Now that he had her pinned down, he didn’t know what was next, but he had some ideas in mind. “I could always make you feel worse, if you’d like?”

"I hate you so much that I wish to f*ck you," he growled, taking off the clothes from her covering her beautiful body, ripping the undergarments in one tear.

He gave her breasts a few massage, “Say you want me inside, slut.” he whispered close in her ear, as he placed his cock on the entrance of her wet cunt.

“I don’t-” she replied, to tease him.

“But I will,” he entered her folds, giving it a few adjustment to his size. He let out a moan of satisfaction on how tight she was.

“So tight, even though you are a whore. Take my dick slut,” he gave a few slap on her ass as he took off his dick, spun him in a doggy position, pulling her hair, entering inside her again.

“You want me to fuck you like a good fucking whore you are right?” he asked again, pulling her wrists behind her back with one hand, the other hand pulling her arm. The girl couldn’t even reply, mewling in pain on her scalp and the pleasure she was getting from below.

“Y-yes, daddy. Please. I want your cock inside me, use me as much as you want,” she moaned out, feeling him fucking her, pushing his dick, kissing her cervix many times, abusing it until she gripped on his sheets of the bed.

“Good, your wish is my command,” he slapped on her ass, thrusting his dick, bullying her gummy walls, faster. She felt so good wrapped around his dick. He wanted her like this for so long. She belonged to him, and him only, wanting to take control of her all night like this.

The room was filled with the smell of sweat, and the sound of his balls slapping on her ass, abusing her with slaps, moans and grunts in harmony, as he fucked her as much he wanted to fuck her life as well.

“God, you’re so tight for even, as a slut. Want this slutty pussy of yours,” he groped her breasts with his two hands, his hips pushing inside her body with greater pace penetrating that one G-spot until she moaned louder and louder.

“Moan louder so everyone can hear how much I’m pleasing you, Princess.” he bit her ear, he pushed the tip of his dick in her cervix to earn himself a scream by rubbing her clit for her, rubbing the bud until it goes numb.

“Blade, ahh!” he was fucking until her brain wasn’t working in pieces, she was obviously drunk from the fucks he been giving.

“S’so so goodd,” she moaned out his name, mewling in pleasure. “Want you, want you daddy, hnghh” she panted desperately asking for his cock to abuse her hole.

“P-please, I’m so close daddy, can I cum?” she begged, trying to hold for herself, as the bed started to make creaking noises.

“Do you want my cum inside you too, Princess?” he hummed, not stopping his pace, as he could feel her pussy tightened more around his cock, he didn’t stop rubbing the clit, pushing her to an edge of pleasure.

“Y-yes, I will take it, please, I need to cum.” tears were glistening as he kept the sensitive bud.

“Good, you will earn that.” his dick twitched, shooting all the white hot seeds inside that womb, in a massive load, riding her orgasms. He let out a low groan from the immense pleasure by the moment she screamed.

He wasn’t that cruel, wiping the sweat off her face, putting the tired girl inside his arms. “I hate you so much, but stay in my arms tonight,” he closed his eyes, putting her in his chest, touching her hair, kissing her forehead. The female Stellaron Hunter just nodded, giving him a smile, calling it a night as they both cuddled in Blade’s bed.

Hate and love there is no in between but, they are really in love right?

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[gilverrwrites]

Call me Tim

Tim Drake/Reader, 2K

[Say his name, P2] AN: I did not expect part 1 to be se well recieved, here hoping part 2 was worth the wait! CWs: Breach of trust, teasing, semi-public foreplay, mildly stalker-ish behaviour on Tims part.

Tim had always told himself that fucking his fans was not a thing for him. Not a kink. Bernard was different, he just had so much passion. He would have been into him regardless of whatever he was fixated on.

Then you happened.

Ever since he’s been telling himself that it was coincidence, not causation. And again, he liked you before he found out you’d spent your formative years kissing cutouts of him. Well, he doesn’t know that part for sure, but he liked to imagine it. Point being; your adolescent crush on him was not the driving force behind his attraction to you.

But as he found himself plotting ways to naturally bump into you as Tim Drake-Wayne, it was becoming increasingly harder to deny that he maybe was, a little bit, kind of into it.

Hitting you up online? Too out of the blue.

Turning up at your house? Way too much.

Then one night the perfect opportunity arose. He’d overheard you making plans to meet some friends at an uptown bar later that week. He wasn’t scheduled to patrol that night. Despite the logical part of his brain telling him it was a creepy move, he just couldn’t pass up the chance. Red Robin had to be so cautious around you, but if you hit it off with Tim he could let a little loose around you.

That’s how he’s ended up sitting on the table adjacent to yours, listening in on your private conversation and praying you wouldn’t recognise him before he was ready.

“So have you guys ever had someone ask you to call them by a different name when you’re… you know?” He nearly coughs on his drink, sitting bolt upright as though it will help him hear better. He trusts you not to spill on who the guy is. You’d had that conversation already, but he wants to hear you say Tim again.

“What like ‘Daddy’? Yeah, my ex was into that.”

“No.” Your voice has grown so quiet, laced with a sheepish laugh just like the morning you’d confessed about your crush to him. God, he wishes he could turn around and look at your face. He’d bet you’re all flustered. “Like, another actual man’s name?”

“No, hon. That’s weird.”

“Who’s the guy? Whose name?”

“You don’t know him.” You shut down the first question. He bets your fidgeting, looking at anything other than your friends as you consider your next words cafeully. “But he wanted me to call him Tim. As in, Tim Drake.”

“That’s really weird. Did he know you used to be down bad for him?”

He knows it's mean to turn around now, and worse, risky. Liable to scare you away but it’s so worth it to see the five stages of grief cross your face in the span of 3 seconds when you notice him. You're like a starstruck deer in the headlights as the word “yeah” dies on your lips. If he cupped your cheeks right now, he's certain the heat would burn away any remnants of his fingerprints.

The whole table falls silent as one by one, your friend’s clue into the situation. If it weren’t for their sickly amused smiles, and the foley of the bar, you’d think the world has stopped turning. You wish the world would stop turning.

He’s staring at you with an almost impish smile and your fight, flight, or freeze kicks in. You opt for stuttering “I have to piss!” As you abruptly leave the table.

I have to piss. You just bumped into The Tim Drake, and the first things he heard from your mouth were that you’d called his name while hooking up with someone, and I have to piss.   

The queue to the solo bathroom in this place is always long, and usually you’d be annoyed but tonight you’re grateful for the extra time to compose yourself, or you would be if you apparently hadn’t been followed.

“So, is he your boyfriend?” Where the fuck had he come from? You hadn’t seen him approach at all.

“He’s…” Not, not your boyfriend. You see each other at least weekly, sometimes you cook for him, and he often brings you gifts. However, you’ve never had that conversation, you don’t even know who he is under the mask. You don’t have his phone number. Despite multiple sexual encounters, you hadn’t even seen him naked. Now that you think about it, there’s a definite power imbalance in whatever you have. “Why?”

You’re much more defensive of his teasing than you are with Red Robin. Understandable, you didn’t really know Tim, and he’s really hit you out of left field. This is all turning out a bit crueller than he’d intended, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Your apprehension tonight is as tempting as your timidness had been last time. It’s like he’s trying to seduce you on hard mode.

“Just tryin’ to find out if it would be appropriate to buy you a drink, maybe ask you to dance?” He sounds off. Not like he does in the TV interviews and podcasts you’d heard him on, but still familiar. It’s hard to focus on, however, because he’s standing so close. Close enough for you to smell the fresh sweetness of his aftershave, for you to see the features you’ve been fantasising about up close.

“This place doesn’t have a dance floor.”

“We could go to another place.”

“Oh no buddy, I’m not going to any secondary locations.” He can’t help the smile that crosses his lips. You remembered his safety tip. He just hopes it reads as anything other than prideful to you right now. “Don’t think for a second just cause you heard what you heard that I’m gonna fall all over you.”

“Buddy? You can call me Tim.” The obvious innuendo has you cracking a genuine smile. Your nerves are still apparent from the way you're tapping your fingers against your thigh, and your refusal to make meaningful eye contact with him but he’s chipping at your walls. There's four people waiting ahead, and he wonders if he can breach your shields completely before it's your turn. “Or if it makes you feel better you could call me whatever that other guy’s name is.”

“Is this how you get people to sleep with you? You tease them relentlessly until they give up just so you’ll go away when it’s over?”

“Ouch.” You have a point, he’s never behaved like this before. He’s always been a self-confessed smartass, but you just bring out something especially brazen within him. Something wicked. He’s being a jerk, but you’re chewing your lips and sneaking awed glances at him, which implies you’re more into it than you’d admit. “Am I not what you expected?”

He probably would live up to your expectations had this been your real first meeting. If he wasn’t already comfortable around you, he’d be enamoured by your appearance, too skittish to match your keen whit or ask about your hobbies, not when you look at him with those eyes. If anything, the typical Tim Drake persona might even bore you by rambling on about detective novels or WayneTech.

“You’re why people say you should never meet your heroes.”

“Okay, fine.” Maybe he had gotten a bit carried away messing with you. “Can I just ask you one more thing, and then I’ll go away, or buy you a drink? Whatever you want.”

Your eyes drift up to the ceiling as you consider his offer. It’s not an uncommon tick for people to have, but it’s certainly more endearing when you do it. Eventually, you nod, conceding to him and offering real, esrnest eye contact. You’re still willing to hear out your favourite celebrity, and a pang of guilt at once again abusing his authority thrums through his chest.

It doesn’t stop him from asking, however. “What clued this guy into your crush on me?”

“Pictures.” You frown, still not breaking eye contact. Something is different. The nervous energy you’ve been emanating since he’d followed you to the line has subsided, replaced by something tantalisingly self-assured.

“Pictures of what?”

He tries to pry but you give him nothing.

“Of you.”

“What kind of pictures.”

The answers here don’t matter to him anyway, he already knows. He’s just trying to segue into a specific set of questions.

“Just, pictures.”

“How ambiguous.” Here’s his chance to try and satisfy that burning fantasy. “Did you practice kissing on them?”

“What? No.” Your tense shoulders say otherwise. “Why would you even ask that?”

“I don’t know.” Perfect. He gives his best noncommittal shrug before leaning in closer, balancing his weight on the wall behind you until the distance between your bodies is closed. He can still pick up hints of your body wash, but it’s washed out but the smell of a parfum that he wishes he could spray on his pillows at night. “Thought I’d offer you the real thing to compare.”

Your response isn’t what he’s expected, but it is what he’s hoped. Your lips press softly against the corner of his lips, and he can’t stop from locking a hand on your hip, not to force anything further, but to stop you from backing away. Although, the wall he has you partly confined against has been doing a pretty good job thus far.

He needn’t bother, however, because it doesn’t take long for you to grow more confident. This is the moment he’s been waiting for.

His mouth parts at the first sign of your tongue and you eagerly explore his mouth. He tastes like IPA, hoppy and warm. Your hands boldly play across his chest, until you fist the fabric of his shirt and tug him closer, deepening the kiss until he moans into your open mouth.

Your sudden boldness is doing things for him. Head spinney, dick hard things. Thoughtlessly, he ruts his hips, rubbing his clothes cock against your lower abdomen until you pull away with a laugh. It’s his turn to be nervous. You’re looking at him with something fierce and canny.

“Excuse me.” A clearly unamused man interjects himself between your embrace to point at the bathroom. “Are you waiting?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tim is surprised by your chipper poise, as you smile politely at the man. He’s even more surprised when you hook your fingers into the give of his leather belt and proceed to drag him with you into the cubicle, locking him inside with you as you offer thanks to the stranger.

“What are you doing?”

“Comparing with the real thing.”  You grace him with another, hard kiss, backing him against the door. Your tongue is hot against his already heated skin as you hurriedly work it along his jaw and neck. He remembers how you’d looked when you’d first noticed him earlier and wonders if his burning face looks equally as nonplussed as he lets you have your way with him against the bathroom door.

He hisses when you plunge your fingers below his belt once more, this time unbuckling it. You’ve fucking cracked, he must have broken something in your brain. There’ll be exaggerated stories about this all over the Gotham Globe’s home page tomorrow. Hell, if he cares though.

“You’ve changed your tune.” He comments, bucking his hips, helping you free him from his boxers. Your fingers lock around his base, and it throbs at finally being touched by you. He’s wanted so badly to fuck you for months but as Red Robin, he’s had to be careful, had to put his guard up which had resulted in a very altruistic sex life. But Tim Drake could fuck you. Right here, right now, Tim Drake-Wayne would fuck whatever hole you’d give him and the thought of it has him losing composure fast.

Your lips lock in one last frenzied kiss before you drop to your knees, and you look like an Angel sent from hell, looking up at him from beneath his reddened cock, with heady eyes and salacious smile.

“So, Red.” Shit. His heart skips a beat. Shit. Shit. Shit. He’s not sure what gave him away, but he doesn’t have a chance to care before you spit on his dick and start to pump with a deliberate rhythmic pace that has his head rolling back against the door. He’s not sure if he wishes he’d never done this at all, or if he’d done it sooner. “What name should I use tonight?”

[demonic0angel]

More Jazz Forms (click for clarity)

TW: disturbing content, body horror

1) Head only Jazz

+ She is a head that walks on a bunch of mysterious tentacles. She’s inspired by a CN novel called “Let the Villain Go” in a chapter where a demon pops up and is described as a head that walks on tentacles (I may be delulu and remembered it wrong).

+ Around 900 feet tall. Most of the height is her tentacles, but her head is still around 100 feet tall.

+ Jason is a little obsessed with how huge she is. When he is away, she stays standing over his apartment like a creepy water storage tank. Nobody can see her except liminals and ghosts, so she remains undetected by Jason’s side.

+ She is generally peaceful and doesn’t move much. She is a relatively quiet being with no explicit ability to defend herself or attack. I imagine her to be very dreamy, despite her piercing stare.

2) Celestial Object Jazz

+ She is a quasi-stellar radio source, AKA a quasar :)

+ Impossibly large and infinite. She is so big that her gravitational pull is pulling apart a piece of the universe. Jason thinks that she’s beautiful, and he looks for her every night. He uses special technology to see her on Earth and when he can, he sneaks onto the Watchtower to look at her.

+ The mass of the black hole that she is made of is around 150 billion solar masses. She is located extremely far from the Milky Way within the largest galaxy of the universe. Since she is technically both the black hole and the gas that surrounds it, she won’t be fading for awhile.

+ Her origin is unknown in this idea (but is related to her siblings, who have all become celestial objects themselves). Her existence is extremely old and that is partially Clockwork’s fault.

3) Corrupted Jazz

+ She has become corrupted from years of ectoplasm, death, and generally instability. The tentacles that come from her stomach is actually just pieces of her soul that are trying to reach for others. She calls for help, but no one but Jason has been reaching out.

+ She cannot be around people for too long, or she causes insanity, violent mood swings, headaches, auditory and visual hallucinations, paranoia, nosebleeds, and general weakness, even if they cannot see her. Jason is somewhat resistant to her, but she heavily restrains herself so the effects of her existence won’t hurt him.

+ She tries to stay away from Jason, but bc she’s so clingy, she watches him from a distance. Her presence brings shadows and darkness, so he’s also been getting a reputation of scaring criminals to pissing themselves whenever he comes by.

+ Her body is covered in shadows, but she glows a little from the ectoplasm, so her silhouette can be vaguely seen.

4) Monochrome Jazz

+ Inspired by Lady Dimitrescu and Hachishakusama

+ She dresses in all black and her skin is pale as well. A hat and face mask cover all available skin on her face. Any skin below the neck is also covered.

+ She is around 9 feet tall. She stalks Jason whenever she can and always follows him around. She is extremely hostile and dangerous and does not hesitate to attack when she feels even the slightest bit threatened. She is also completely mute.

+ She is both a ghost and an urban legend, hence why she looks like that. Underneath her mask is a mouth of razor sharp teeth like a moray eel.

5) Wolf Jazz

+ Inspired by Jason’s Red Hood motif that is similar to Little Red Riding Hood. That’s also why I associate Jazz with so many canine themes :)

+ Black fur, several pairs of eyes, and two sets of deformed ears. I am debating whether or not she also has 3 pairs of legs.

+ She follows Jason around like a dog, but does not behave like a pet. As such, he can’t order her around unless she wants to listen to him. Thankfully, she likes cooperating with him and the two of them terrorize the criminals of Crime Alley.

+ She is around 5 feet tall when standing on all fours, but when she stands up on her hind legs, she is around 9 feet tall. She is very fluffy.

[peterparkersnose]

Feeling You

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: david’s episode and themes along with that, reader is chained up, david is literally creepy and disgusting, reader kills a person, description of death, angst, joel cannot physically feel anything, trauma description, ellie’s aftermath of david, religious trauma, mentions of weapons

a/n hi season finale my life is over at least we got mando still 💪

summary Y/N confesses something to Joel she shouldn’t have when she saw him awake for the first time in weeks after his accident

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 13 mins 10 seconds

The feeling of panic woke you up. The strange dream you couldn’t remember faded as your senses came back to you. It was cold and your head was pounding. The cold air nipped your nose. Your clothes felt like there was space between the fabric and your skin, you could feel the stinging cold prick your skin. You lay flat on what you could only imagine was a bed. It wasn’t comfortable whatsoever and only made your back stiff. Joel’s flannel from the night before had kept you warm enough to survive. Gaining the muster to move, you tried to yank your feet on the floor. Your right leg was cuffed to the bed pole.

“She’s awake,” you heard someone call, and commotion started around you. Blinking your eyes and trying to adjust to what was happening, the noise of a padlock being opened distracted you. “Good morning,”

You recognized that voice. The man that you and Ellie encountered in the woods. What was his name…David? How did you even get here?

“I’m glad to see your up.”

You scuffled on your hands, propping yourself up in bed. “Where is she?” you shivered, moving your free leg up to your chest. The only other thought that consumed your brain was the little girl you were protecting.

“You must be cold. Here,” David said, snapping his fingers. One of his friends fed a blanket through the bars that were currently entrapping you. He draped the blanket over you. You hated it, but had no choice but to accept it.

“Where is she?” you reiterated. “She’s fine.” David ensured to you. “All comfy like you.”

“This is far from comfortable.” you hissed at him. “Just, tell me a few things and I can make you feel real comfortable.” David said. His tone made your stomach drop.

“Where is he?” David asked, mimicking your insistent question.

You knew he meant Joel. That’s all they wanted. Joel. You and Ellie were just the sad accessories that came along with him. “With the rest of the group.” you lied. David sucked his teeth. “Tell the truth,” he said, standing up over you. Scooting over in the small bed, you tried to put as much distance between you and the man.

“God doesn’t look down well on liars,”

‘What a freak’ you thought to yourself. You remembered reading old stories about cults that mimicked his teachings, or what he had preached at you the night he found you and Ellie.

“What kind of god makes our world a living hell?” you taunted. “Why would you believe in some shit cause? Have you seen what is out there?”

A subtle but dark smile came to David’s face. He brought up his hand and promptly slapped you on the cheek. Hard. The all too familiar needle like feeling seeped in on your cheek. The taste of blood slowly began to form in your mouth.

“We all need a father. We all need some guidance.” David said, bringing his hand up to your face again. You winced, hoping he wouldn’t strike you again. Instead, his fingers grabbed your chin. “There’s always time to repent,”

He inspected your face, forcing it to turn in whichever angle he would like. Blood filled your gums and began to dribble down your face as he squeezed your cheeks together. “Such a pretty thing,” he sighed. You spat in his face. He sighed and wiped the blood and spit mixture from his forehead with his sleeve.

He let go and stepped back. “I see your confidence, I see your leadership, I see myself in you.” he explained, taking another step back. “We could lead, you know. Bring greatness to this group. I could give you a future. A future with me.”

A new kind of fear began as you slowly began to realize what he truly wanted from you. The only thing you were good for in his eyes, maybe besides your flesh. His eyes seemed to undress you under the few layers of clothes you had on. They had taken your coat the previous night and you were left in your jeans and one of Joel’s flannels you stole from his pack to stay warm.

“Just give him up and I’ll give you the world.”

You sat silently. It was obvious that David was getting annoyed. “He’s just your old dad. It’s probably better if my guys get to him before the-”

“He’s not my dad.” you said harshly. “Well,” David laughed. “My apologies.”

He dragged the stool from the corner of the cell to the side of the bed. He straddled the stool and got a little too close for comfort. “Is he her dad?” he asked. You shook your head no. “Uncle, brother, cousin…? I’m trying to understand the relationship so I don’t hurt the little girl too much.”

You looked away and focused on the painted white brick wall. He was searching for leverage, an advantage you were not about to give him. The breathing exercises were not working when you could smell David’s rancid breath on you. “Oh,” he said with a smirk. “I get it.”

“Your with him.”

Closing your eyes, you moved your hand over your face. “Aren’t you a little young for such an old geezer?” he asked. You shook your head no. What a fucking narcissist. This man had to be Joel’s age, and from the looks of how much hair he had left I would say, maybe, older.

The age gap was the one thing keeping you from going the extra step and pursuing Joel. The mutual attraction had been present for a while, but you both were too afraid to face the facts. And now that he was as good as dead, the mere thought of what could have been stung harder than it should have.

“If your not gonna talk, then I’m just going to move to your little friend.” David sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get what he wanted out of you without some sort of leverage. His original plan hadn’t worked.

“No,” you called out, wanting to swallow your words back down. David’s back turned around again. “Then tell me pretty girl,” he said, each step echoing in the jail cell as he got closer to you. “Are you fucking him?” he asked, his nose almost touching yours. With lips pursed and your eyes tightly closed, you shook your head no. Your face rose with heat at the mere implication. 

“Liar.” he spit at you. He left you once again and sat outside your cage with his friends.

You began to doze off. Caged to the bed like a dog and freezing wasn’t the best headspace to stay in. You tried to imagine the penicillin Ellie came back with had some sort of super power and resurrected Joel so he could come kill this red headed motherfucker that wouldn’t stop staring you down. So that he could rescue you and Ellie and you could return to Jackson to get proper treatment and then take Ellie to the lab that was supposedly in Salt Lake City. So Joel could return to you and just be there and be alive. You missed Joel endlessly, even though you were just with him hours prior. And the last time you saw him, he was as good as gone.

As you were dreaming about the unlikely future, the men began to stir. One left, and another followed. There was muffled arguing down the hallway. David was getting angry about all the commotion and went to see what was happening.

“She what?” you heard him yell down the hall. “You mean to tell me she’s escaped?”

Your lungs caught your breath too hard when you heard him say that. She’s escaped? Ellie?

“Watch her.” David commanded, poking his head in the room and yelling at a man who you believed to be named James. He sat down in David’s stool and stared at you. You slowly began to get up, your leg chain dangling off the bed. James didn't say a word. 

Suddenly, two gunshots rang out. You grabbed for the white painted bars blocking you from leaving, and tripping on your leg chain. “No!” you screamed, pulling yourself back up. “No,” you said quieter, the reality of Ellie’s death started to become a little too real for your comfort. 

James had arisen, his hand rested on his gun in it’s holster as he anxiously stared at the door. He took a step back, contemplating what he was going to do. His back was turned to you. Another shot rang out, and James jumped backwards. In the hassle, the keychain holding your key to freedom was conveniently sticking out of his back pocket and was accessible to you. Without hesitation, you grabbed the keys and along fell out his knife. 

James was quick to react, grabbing your hand with the keys interlocked in your fingers. He grunted as your other hand met the set of keys and started to pry his cold, lanky fingers off the keys. James was hesitant to drop his gun, it would have been in reach for you. He was clueless that his knife was in reach where he couldn't see. 

“Fine,” he said, giving up. He let go and let you have the keys. “The second you try anything…” 

He looked over at his gun. He was still level with you on the ground. Sliding the keys behind you, you quickly grabbed the knife from behind him. Panic flashed in his eyes as you grabbed his neck and swiftly impaled his neck with the knife. He began to choke, and you pushed it in once again. His gun fell from his hand as he uselessly pawed at his neck. 

After a few tries with the various keys, you finally unlocked your leg from the chain that had been wrapped around your ankle all night. Quickly, you escaped your jail cell. You grabbed James’s knife from his neck and wiped it off on your jeans. Also, you stole his gun. 

You were shaking. Freezing and adrenaline wasn't the best combination at the moment. You were unsure of where to go. Where was Ellie? Where would Ellie go? You were all she had left. The cold hallway with a door with light pouring out under it seemed like the smart choice. 

When you opened the door, you were hit like a brick wall with a gust of wind blowing snow in your direction. Your arm immediately came to cover your eyes as you hastily made your way through the snow cloud. Just as it was about to clear, two arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you out in to the open. 

After grunting and fighting what you prayed wasn’t David or one of his associates, your hands were held behind your back tightly. Screaming and wriggling, you couldn’t hear the voice of your new partner in crime trying to calm you. 

“Y/N!” you finally heard. The haze around you seemed to settle. “Hey! It’s me,” 

You opened your eyes from the struggle and thought you were hallucinating from the evident dehydration and starvation. His hands now rested on your shoulders as he looked at you with the first inkling of real fear you had ever seen behind his eyes. 

“Are you alright?” Joel asked in a gutted tone, staring at the formation of a red handprint on your face. The fear turned into rage behind his eyes. All you could do was stare in to his face and enjoy the safe feeling once again. An unintentional sob came from you. Joel quickly embraced you. 

His hand shook as he cradled your head in his hand. “I got you,” he whispered, holding your body tight against his. “T-they still have her.” you whispered in his ear. 

Joel’s body stiffened. 

“Where?” he asked, letting you go. He reached for his coat, sliding it off his arms. “I don’t know I was trying to find her and—”

Joel noticed your hands and grabbed for them. They were covered in fresh blood. “Fuck,” he whimpered. “Go find her.” you said, pulling your hands away from his. “But—”

“Go,” you trembled. 

Joel’s longing look was one you were never going to forget. He saw the gun tucked in your pants and gave you a nod. “Hide,” he said in a hushed voice. 

As he was about to leave, you called out his name. He turned to you with a hurtful sigh. He was limping. Swallowing, you spit out the words to the man you had fallen for across this journey across the country. “I love you,” 

He was taken aback. It was definitely sudden and unexpected. His lips parted slightly in shock. Joel’s need to protect Ellie was strong at the moment. He didn’t have time to give in to these childish antics at the moment.

“I…”

His feelings for you wanted to stay, but his duty to Ellie, his duty to Sarah was more important than a silly crush on a silly girl. This whole time he thought he was just being delusional. All the little things, little moments the two of you shared he thought was just out of pure alliance and survival. 

Nausea filled you as you as you realized he had to go. He wasn’t going to say it back; from everything you knew about Joel Miller, you should have expected this exact reaction. He was unable to love, unable to just say it back to someone who was significantly younger than him and was a stranger just six months ago. Joel would regret this moment for the rest of his life. He stared at you in disbelief, unsure of what to do. He watched as your lips pursed and your hands wrap around your stomach, trying to keep yourself warm. 

“I’m sorry.” he muttered, turning away from you. 

You watched as you zipped his coat up as another gust of wind threw snow around the open space and he was gone.

Quickly, your eyes darted for a hiding spot. The survival instinct came in and tried its best to shut out the hurt you had just caused yourself. An old heat radiator stood a few feet to your left, in the direction Joel was. A produce crate covered in snow was another foot away and you picked it up, placing it next to the radiator. You sat on the freezing ground, clutching the gun and praying for something to go right today. 

A terrible scream erupted in the town’s square. You recognized that scream anywhere. Ellie, the little girl you had been with practically since her birth was in trouble. Your heart pounded in your chest as you jumped from your hiding space and ran towards the screaming. When you arrived, you stopped a few feet behind them. Joel was holding Ellie just as he was holding you moments before, moments before you had just fucked everything up. A lump rose in your throat as you feared the worst. 

“Ellie!” you yelled loudly and clear, catching the little girl’s attention. She looked up at you and wailed, her face was covered in blood. Almost falling on your knees mid run to her, she left Joel’s arms and collapsed in to yours. 

“Oh, baby.” you murmured, brushing her hair our of her face. She held on to you and sobbed in to your chest. You offered soft words of assurance, unaware of what monstrosities Ellie had just survived. Slowly rocking her back and forth, your hand intertwined with hers as you tried to calm her down. Brief words through the sobs Ellie let out broke your heart. 

“Y/N-” Joel said with a raspy voice. You shot him a look of hurt as you rested your chin on Ellie’s head. You slowly shook your head in disappointment. “It’s okay, Ellie.” you whispered in her ear. “Your safe now.”

“We really should go,” Joel urged, anxiously looking around. You closed your eyes, ignoring him. Ellie’s wails had subsided, but her grip on your waist hadn’t let up. 

“Let’s go,” you whispered to her, using the sleeves of Joel’s coat to wipe some of the blood off of her face. Joel was right. You all were heavily exposed at the moment. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

--

It was now night. The horse was gone, and Joel was barely able to keep upright for long. You had found a cave while trying to hunt down a rabbit. The three of you were going to rest there for the night. 

Ellie hadn’t left your side. Her hand was in yours as you made your way up the cold mountainside. Slowly, the three of you trudged upward. 

The rabbit you had caught for dinner was average. Joel was hurt, but still useful. He made a fire and helped Ellie get comfortable. She was in dire need for a good night of sleep. Hell, you all were in dire need for a good night of sleep. No words had been spoken between you and Joel since the small town. 

Ellie’s head rested in your lap. You sat against the wall of the cave and watched Ellie as she slowly took in breaths. Joel was fixated on the flames, making sure they were still roaring strong. 

“You should get some sleep,” Joel said, breaking the tension. You shrugged. “I-I can take first watch,” he offered. “No.” you said back bitterly. 

“Y/N,” Joel sighed, adjusting his tone to yours. “Are you going to be bitter the rest of this trip?” he asked bluntly. Your head snapped to look up at him. Joel raised an eyebrow. 

“I just need some time, Joel.” 

“Well, you kinda said it at the worst time possible.” he muttered, using the ground to stand up and fetch another log of wood for the fire. “Well,” you seethed. “I thought you were dead. When I saw you…I had to.” 

You sighed and closed your eyes as you heard him toss the wood on the fire. 

Joel’s shoulders slumped as he slid down back against the wall. “Yeah, I know.” he said heavily. “It’s just hard for me to hear things like that.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry. I should have been more… considerate.” you apologized, searching for the right word. Joel was right; wrong time and wrong place. Stretching your legs out towards the fire, Ellie stirred in her sleep. You and Joel stared at the girl, waiting for her to calm. Her grasp on your hand tightened, but she seemed to fall back into her hazy state.

“I failed her,” Joel said, a tinge of sadness backed up his tone. “Joel, no.” you sighed. “I-I should have been there. I should have been more careful and…”

His face scrunched as he placed his hand on his forehead, shielding his eyes. Was he… no. Was he?

Slowly, you moved Ellie off your lap. She let out a few grunts of protest, but you placed your backpack under her head. You scuffled next to Joel. He seemed to jump at your touch. “Joel,” you whispered, grabbing his hand in yours. Tears welled in his eyes. “I failed her Y/N.” 

The definition of her was falling on a fine line between Ellie and Sarah. 

“No you didn’t. You saved us, Joel. You saved her.” 

The two of you stared at Ellie. She was sound asleep. Ellie was now clean, you had helped her clean up in a freezing stream. It almost felt like a proud parent moment in some odd, fucked up way. The two of you staring at your miracle kid. She had survived and endured so much for her age. It was almost odd to see her resting so peacefully. The knowledge that the two of you got her there safely was enough to keep the hope flowing.

Your other hand fell over the one you had holding on to his, and your head rested on his shoulder. 

“I love that kid so fucking much,” Joel blurted out, his free hand moving to wipe a tear out of his face. “I know.” you said, feeling the emotions in you begin to rise. “I love her too,” you whispered, your eyebrows falling soft. Joel tried to keep it in, but a sudden gasp for air made it evident that he was crying. 

Sitting with him was the best thing you could do. Your hand rubbed over his knuckles that had healed from the events of leaving the Boston QZ. Slowly, testing your limits, your arm wrapped around his shoulders. He moved his head in to the nape of your neck and sighed. He was hiding behind you from his feelings and the world. You were his metaphorical escape. 

Joel’s mind wandered to all the previous moments the two of you had shared. Awkward, brief stares at each other in the Boston QZ periodically before you two actually knew each other. When you bandaged him up after a bullet graze. Your hands were so soft and you worked so carefully, making sure the process was as painless as you could make it. Or when you shared your last meal with him. You ripped the disgusting piece of jerky up and insisted he ate it. The two of you were sitting in what used to be a park and was watching Ellie play on the fragile equipment when it happened. One of the few moments she actually got to live like a kid. 

“Y/N?” Joel whispered in your ear. Turning to look at him, his eyes were red and puffy. “I do love you, you know.” 

A thin lipped smile rose to your face. You nodded. “I’m not very good at these kinds of things… I’m sorry.” he sighed.

You rejected his apology and rested your head back on his shoulder. “I know. Me too,” you managed to say, with a slight chuckle at the end. Your hand wrapping over his slowly turned in to his hand intertwining with yours. “We’ll get through this. Together.” you assured him. Joel nodded, leaning in to kiss you softly on the forehead. You felt a rush of happiness fill you at this small gesture. 

Joel was a hard man to crack, you had known that since the first day you met him. His stubbornness was relentless. This meant the world to you. 

Now as the two of you lay side by side, you felt him wrap his arms around you. Joel was so warm, it was comforting. He pulled you close, not caring what Ellie would think when she awoke. You both closed their eyes, praying this remote cave was safe enough to not stay up and watch for any danger. And it was. 

Joel was healing physically, but the shattered man inside began repairs as the night moved on. He knew he could do anything, feel anything, and try to be even an inkling of the man he used to be with you at his side.

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy

[feyhunter78]

PLEASE UPDATE IM BEGGING THIS IS MY BRAND NEW LIFE SOURCE RN

I'm gonna assume this is about Pink Pastels, and gladly give you what you're asking for👀

Pink Pastels Pt 6

Description: It's time for Gabi's field trip, and wouldn't ya know, you and Miguel are in the same group.

Pt 7

Miguel’s never been a chaperone before. During Gabi’s Kindergarten field trip he was away on a business trip, but this time he made sure to be there, not just because Gabi’s class was going to the zoo, and she loves the zoo, but because of you.

There’s this need to protect you, like an itch beneath his skin. He can’t forget the look of fear on your beautiful face, or the way you clung so tightly to him, desperate and terrified. The crunch of that man’s bones beneath his fists, the fear that ran through your attacker as Miguel tore into him, talons and fangs covered in his blood, crimson drip, drip, dripping down to the pavement below, it was an almost ecstasy.

Your broken and discarded shoes are hidden in the back of his closet, along with your hairband. It’s pathetic, really, the makeshift shrine that’s beginning to form, and he knows that his actions could so easily borderline being creepy, but you’re his. He knows it. You’re meant to be together, and he’s simply showing his devotion.

“Papá, Papá, we’re here.” Gabi tugs on his shirt sleeve, her face lit up with pure, innocent excitement, and he resists the urge to crush her to his chest and never let her go.

“I see, where do you want to go first, Mija?” He asks, adjusting her baseball cap and making sure it’s snug on her head. He doesn’t want her face to get sunburned, but she hates the feeling of sunscreen, so they compromised.

“I want to see the hippos!” She says, bouncing in her seat as she turns to talk with her friends behind her, little, high-pitched voices discussing and debating which animals were the best.

“Mr. O’Hara, here’s your map, and safety packet. I trust you went over the info online ahead of time?” You hand him a manila envelope, smiling brightly at him.

Your hair is down today, the crown of your head covered by a white bucket hat, and you’re wearing jeans with a sage green T-shirt that reads SRE Field trip, in big white block letters. He’s wearing the same, everyone is, to ensure if a child is lost, they can be easily returned to their group.

He takes the packet from you, nodding. “Of course, can’t leave my chaperone partner to do all the heavy lifting.”

You laugh a little at that and continue down the bus aisle, handing out the remaining packets.

He lets Gabi pull him off the bus and is soon swarmed by five first-graders, each one a friend of Gabi’s—she makes friends so easily, something he can’t take credit for.

“Okay everyone has their groups, please stay with your chaperone, and your buddy, don’t go wandering off, and meet back here, at the entrance at three o’clock.” An older teacher says, before she gathers her own group and heads through the zoo gates.

You bend down to face the kids, an excited smile on your face. “Alright, what animal are we seeing first?”

“Hippo!”

“Lion!”

“Monkeys!”

“Seals!”

A chorus of answers rings out, and you turn to Miguel. “Mr. O’Hara? Do you have any suggestions?”

You look so pretty, the sun shining down on you, the casual outfit, the way you tap your finger against your lips in thought, clearly putting on a show for the kids. If he ignores all the others and focuses on only you and Gabi, he can almost imagine this is a family outing, not a field trip.

“Last time I was here, they had snow leopards?” He feigns ignorance, but when your face lights up, he feels that intoxicating shot of dopamine.

Snow leopards are your favorite animal, the one you’ve voiced your desire to go see many times while in the school’s teacher’s lounge. One which has cameras, that Miguel has access to. Obviously.

“They still do, they’re my favorites.” You confirm what he already knows, and the children immediately change their answer to match yours.

“Why don’t we go there first, then if the kids see any animals, they want to visit on the way there we’ll see them afterwards?” He suggests, still acting oh so innocent.

“What do we think? Everyone agrees with Mr. O’Hara?” You ask the children, straightening up and throwing him a smile when they all agree to his plan.

Miguel stands back behind you and the children, watching as you join them up at the glass, helping them read out the informational signs, and marveling over the big cats.

The environment set up for the leopards is lush, full of greenery and stone. Perches and outcroppings meant to mimic their homelands, and mounds of snow that they seem to disappear into, reappearing with a flash, causing Gabi and her friends to jump back in surprise then burst into giggles.

You soon join him, your arms tucked behind your back as you watch your students. “I think this is one of my favorite days of the year. I know it’s stressful, and tiring but seeing how excited they all are, just really makes me happy.”

“Gabi loves the zoo, we come here every year on her birthday.” He tells you, desperate to include you in their life, if only through shared pieces of personal information. “I’ve got all the photos in my office, my coworkers’ joke that by the time I retire I’ll have half my office wall covered.”

“I used to go to the aquarium when I was a kid, there’s something about standing underneath those giant tanks, with the way the light plays through the water—it’s breathtaking.”

You’re breathtaking. He wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “I know the feeling.”

You smile shyly at him, and for a moment he’s back on the side of your building, watching you through your window. He didn’t intend to be there, to watch you, he only wanted to ensure you were okay. You were fast asleep, hair askew, in a soft looking oversized t-shirt, the moonlight dancing across your peaceful face.

He couldn’t tear himself away, enraptured by the sight.

You let out a huff, and in his peripheral, he spies the name on your phone. Todd.

He hates Todd.

“Everything okay?” He asks carefully, his eyes on Gabi.

“Yes, sorry, just some personal issues, nothing serious.” You say quickly, sliding your phone into your pocket.

“Ms. Y/N, can we go see the hippos now?” One of Gabi’s friends, Emma, comes up to you, looking up at you with big blue eyes, her hand tugging at your shirt.

“Is that what everyone else wants to see?” You ask, gaze sweeping over the other children.

“Yes.” Emma says confidently, running off in the direction of the large animals, Gabi following closely behind.

“Girls!” You call out, looking from them to the others.

“Go, I’ll bring the others.” He reassures you.

You take off after them, and he gathers the remaining four children, who huddle around him like ducklings.

“Is Ms. Y/N mad? She looked mad.” One of the little boys—Tony, named after the Avenger or a family member, Miguel isn’t sure—asks him, chewing on his bottom lip.

This is that Tony, Gabi’s told him about this boy, how he’s very nice, and funny, but gets scared easily. She likes him, maybe not in a way she yet understands, or that Miguel is ready for, but if his baby girl has to have a crush on anyone, an easily scared little boy isn’t the worst.

“She’s probably mad at her dumbass boyfriend.” Dahlia, a girl he can tell is from the Bronx by her thick accent, speaks up, and it’s all he can do to keep from laughing at the scandalized look on Tony’s face.

“Don’t tell Ms. Y/N I said a bad word, but that’s what I’ve heard Ms. Melissa call him.” She says quietly when she sees Tony’s face.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” He promises.

“Gabi’s right, you are the coolest.” Dahlia says, grabbing his hand and swinging it back and forth as they walked.

The coolest? He wanted to run ahead and scoop his daughter into his arms, she thought he was the coolest.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia

[snapeussy]

Ok so, I genuinely think that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley would most likely get along with/be interested with goths and here’s why (coming from a full blooded goth)

Why he may not be as extravagant as your traditional goth, he’s absolutely goth. You’re trying to tell me that man doesn’t listen to The Cure? Depeche Mode is absolutely his shit. I promise you that Sisters Of Mercy was on his Spotify wrapped

Goths also have a certain aura that I think he’d vibe with. A lot of goths have experienced hard things in life and use the entire genre to find solace in that. Ghost has been through hell and back and he seems like the type to be like “fuck this, let’s sit in a cemetery and talk to crows” as a form of therapy

Also, try and tell me that he doesn’t wear skeleton or grim reaper shirts. It’s practically all that man owns. As a goth, most of my non goth clothes are exactly that (skeleton dad joke shirt, my love)

Ghost would 100% be a social outcast in day to day life. He’d be deemed “creepy” or “unsettling” due to his silent nature and the fact that he always has his face covered. But you know who fucks with that? Goths. I can imagine it’s one day where he’s at a bar and most people are giving him space bc creepy big guy in a skull mask, but this group of goths come in and are like “fuck yeah, you’re awesome” and just kinda include him in stuff

In short, I think Ghost would get adopted by goths and he’d love it. Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[darkwing-katy]

The Spider and the Fly Part II

Pairing: Eventual Leland x Reader (sorta? You’ll see what I mean)

Word Count: 3,943

Summary: All you want to do is get through your online courses and keep your best friend from making bad choices in men. But there’s this creepy therapist who is absolutely insisting on you making an appointment with him. Who the hell is this Leland Townsend, and why won’t he leave you alone?!

Part two of seven. Takes place sometime around seasons one and two.

The series is inspired heavily by my favorite poem, “The Spider and the Fly” (1829) by Mary Howitt. This poem is in the public domain.

Tagging: @primosflowergarden; @vi-er

Part One

——————————————————————————————————

“I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;

Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the Spider to the Fly.

“There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin.

And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly truck you in.”

You hang up your phone with a smug grin. So this Dr. Townsend thought he could intimidate you? Fuck that. You weren’t about to let that happen, and you’d made sure to give a fake last name, fake address (that you verified to make sure it wasn’t easily google-abley false), and left a fake phone number. It wasn’t the first time you’d done something like this—you’d made up fake names in bars when you saw creeps hitting on women (and men) who were clearly uncomfortable. One time you’d made up a whole elaborate backstory about being the adopted sister of a woman who was being harassed and that was why you looked so drastically different. The drunken creeps had bought your little story, and the woman had been so grateful for the help.

You’d scheduled the fake appointment with Dr. Townsend for a week from now, and you had such a great time imagining the pissed-off expression on his face when you never showed and he found that he’d wasted his time on you. Why the hell had he been so adamant about you meeting him, anyway? You didn’t need a therapist; if anyone did, it was Betty, who was already on the rebound with a guy she met on tinder. You loved your friend, but by God, she needed to take some time to figure herself out. Maybe she’d do that when she went to her parents’ place for the rest of the summer.

Life goes on, and you put Dr. Townsend out of your mind as you work your job at the bookstore and come back home to the apartment you and Betty share to work on your creative writing coursework. Your latest course assignments consist of reading multiple books in your preferred genre of writing, but they all have to be by different authors. You also have to keep a journal that you write in first thing in the morning, three pages, and a few things involving figuring out what your goals are as a creative person and what kinds of thoughts hold you back. It’s all very introspective, which was hokey at first, but you’ve learned some things about yourself, and you find that you actually enjoy the exercises…even if they feel silly at times.

You come home from work on Thursday to an unfamiliar car parked in front. That alone is enough to send your nerves tingling, but the real shocker is when you step into the apartment to see Betty sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea…with Dr. Townsend seated across from her.

What the actual fuck? you think as you stare at the scene before you. As if he’d read your mind, Dr. Townsend turns his head to look at you, a warm smile on his face that does not reach his eyes in any way, shape, or form. “Oh, hello there, (Y/N)! Betty was just filling me in on her latest boy toy problems. Man, that James sounds like such a wonderful fella, doesn’t he?”

From what you’ve heard of James, you already hated the guy, but you weren’t about to declare that in front of Betty. You’re not sure what your face looks like, but whatever expression you have seems to give Dr. Townsend some form of satisfaction because he leans back in the small wooden chair and takes another long draught of his cup of tea.

“Yes, Dr. Townsend was telling me that I shouldn’t be so quick to judge guys by their profiles,” Betty said with a wide smile. Hers is authentic, you note grumpily. “I know that you said I should investigate James some more, but Dr. Townsend thinks I shouldn’t be afraid to take chances and explore the unknown instead of going into a relationship knowing everything about a guy.”

“Please, call me Leland,” Dr. Townsend says, flashing what seems to be a friendly smile in Betty’s direction.

Betty titters, a weird sound that you do not like hearing from your best friend. Oh, God, she’d better not be crushing on this asshole. It’d be just like her to fall for his charm and try to hit on him, even with the age gap.

“Alright, Leland,” she repeats, her cheeks pinking. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, but you need to stop this conversation right now.

“Betty, don’t you have to get to your Zumba class?” you say, your eyes darting to the stove clock. Her Zumba class isn’t until 5:30, but it’s close enough to now that she should be leaving, especially if she’s hoping to chat with her buddies in the class.

Betty jumps up from her chair, the legs scraping the floor as she turns her head towards the clock. “Oh, shit! Yeah, I gotta go!” She gives you an exasperated look. “I’m not even ready for it yet! Danny is gonna kill me if I’m late again.”

“Then GTFO,” you tell her, glad that she’ll be leaving the apartment. Of course, that means that you and Dr. Townsend—Leland—will be alone, but you can handle him. You just don’t want Betty to be collateral damage.

Leland the Loser keeps the smile on his face, but you doubt that Betty noticed that it never reaches his eyes, which are icy and fixed on you. You walk into the kitchen and lean against the counter to wait for Betty’s footsteps to head into her room. Leland opens his mouth to speak, but you hold up a sharp finger at him, and he clamps his mouth shut, though he looks irritated about being cut off.

You refuse to say anything until Betty’s gone, the door slamming shut behind her as she rushes out. The moment the door closes, you whip your head at Leland. “What the fuck are you doing here?” you demand as you glare at him. 

Leland tilts his head at you innocently. “You never showed up to your appointment yesterday, (Y/N),” he replies in a honeyed voice. “I was concerned.”

And that is very fucking disconcerting. You’d given his office a fake address, a fake name. How the hell had he found you? “I think we both know I had absolutely no intention of meeting with you, Dr. Townsend,” you say in a flat tone.

“Please, call me Leland.”

“Fine, Leland. How the hell do you know where I live, anyway?”

His face changes. It’s a subtle shift, but it’s there, a mixture of annoyance and amusement. “Ahh, yes. You gave my secretary a false address, false name, the whole dang shebang, didn’t ya?” That eerie glitter is back in his eyes. They’re just so damn blue. They’re not even a light blue; they’re dark and that makes them all the more off-putting. “It might’ve taken me much longer to track you down, but you made the mistake of using your own cell phone to call in.”

Oh, shit, you realize. “You tracked my cell phone?”

Leland smirks. “No, I just asked.” He doesn’t sound apologetic about it, not one whit. “I admire the effort, though. Not that it matters that much. If I wanted to find you, I would’ve found you.”

“Clearly,” you mutter as you scoot along the counter edge. Your kitchen knives are by the microwave, and something tells you that you might want them close. If this guy is so determined that he’s willing to figure out where you live and coerce your friend into letting him into the apartment…then he’s dangerous. 

His eyes catch your movement, and in less than a second, the smile is gone, replaced by a sneer. “You mind telling me why you’re so determined to avoid me, (Y/N)? Why you’re so…” his eyes dart to the knives and his lips curl, “afraid?”

You stop. You’re closer to the knives, but you’re also closer to him. What if he’s fast enough to get to you before you can grab a knife? You need a new plan. You mentally catalogue everything in your kitchen that you can use as a weapon. How fast can you unplug the microwave and throw it? “Well, you were pretty weirdly insistent at the coffee shop, and now you’re sitting in my kitchen. I think that’s reason enough to be suspicious of you,” you reply.

“Don’t tell me that you’re actually afraid of little old me?”

He sounds like he wants you to say yes, to admit that his presence makes you very, very afraid. Like hell you’re gonna admit that, especially if that’s what he wants.

“Concerned? Sure. Afraid, though?” You force yourself to chuckle. “What is there to be afraid of?”

He doesn’t respond, and the silence says volumes. You feel the goosebumps prickle again, but at least this time, you’ve got a light sweater on, a habit from your workplace. You’ve never been so grateful that the bookshop is kept at a freezing temperature as you are now.

Who the hell is this guy? You start to cross your arms but stop, knowing it would only make you look more defensive. Instead you put them on your hips. “The hell do you want with me?”

Leland adjusts the chair so that he can face you, and you curse internally at him. He knows you’re going for the knives and he’s telling you that he’s watching. “Like I said—I think we could do great things together.” He sets his mug down. “I’ve heard some interesting stories about you, you know.”

You purse your lips. “From who?” you ask.

He smiles, but there’s no kindness in it. “Oh, from some associates of mine here and there. They’ve hinted that you’re…quite imaginative when it comes to hurting people.”

“I don’t hurt people,” you snap. “I don’t do shit like that.”

Leland doesn’t look bothered by this revelation at all. “Alright, so then you don’t torment the men who hurt your friends? You’ve never done anything to the assholes who break your heart?” He raises his eyebrows, and you feel your breath catch.

How the hell does he know about that? Not even Betty, your best friend in the whole wide world, knows the extent of what you’ve done, the psychological vengeance you’ve exacted on each and every one of those dickwads. It’s almost a game at this point—you rank the men on how easy it is to scare them, on how elaborate your schemes need to be to terrify them. You’ve already started working on plans for James if he turns out to be just as shady as you expect him to be.

“No,” you lie, and Leland’s face twitches, like he expected you to do that. But how could he possibly know? You’re excellent at covering your tracks. There’s a reason you’ve never been caught by any of the exes.

“Why are you lying, (Y/N)?” he asks in a silky voice. “You’ve done some fun stuff. You’re allowed to brag about it. This is a safe space.” He waves his hands at your kitchen and you scowl.

“No, it’s fucking not,” you reply, a touch too aggressively.

Leland sighs dramatically and rises to his feet. You ready yourself for—for what? Is he gonna attack you in your own kitchen? “What would it take to get you to come to an appointment, (Y/N)?” he asks, and there’s an odd wistfulness to his voice. You’re confused. You barely know the guy. Why does he care so much? Why do you matter to him? “I’m serious—I think you’d be surprised at how beneficial it could be for you.”

He’s just…standing there, waiting for you.

So you take a step forward in the hopes that maybe you can scare him off. He doesn’t step back, doesn’t even look nervous. 

“Nothing—I repeat, nothing—is gonna make me come to an appointment with you,” you tell him, your voice firm.

He sighs again, looks away from you for a moment as he seems to come to some sort of conclusion. “Alright, then. What about this?” He looks back at you, and you do not like the way he’s looking at you. You want to back up, but backing up would mean giving in, even if it might be safer to do that. “How about you come to an appointment, and I don’t slip into here in the middle of the night—or day, I’m not picky—and slit your friend’s throat?” He nods his head towards the empty chair that Betty had been sitting in when you’d arrived home.

His tone is amicable, pleasant, but the words are jarring enough that you do take a step back. “Uhm, what?” You say, certain that you must’ve misheard him.

He gives you a cordial smile, and his entire face is lit up with glee at garnering a reaction from you at last. “I mean, unless you want me to. God knows she’s a whiney little bitch who really needs to make better choices in men. It’s probably a lotta work keeping her protected from all the assholes of the world.” He shrugs. “Maybe you’d prefer it if she was gone. I can get rid of her body, too. Easy-peasy.”

There’s a queasy feeling churning in your stomach. Your heart is racing, and you’re trying to keep your breathing steady, but it’s hard when he’s talking like that—he’s fucking talking about murdering Betty, for Chrissakes! You have to breath in through your nose to keep it from shuddering.

You take another step back, this time on purpose. You need those knives now.

“What? You don’t like that idea?” Leland takes a step towards you, his face contorted into a mockery of concern. “You don’t like the idea of coming home to find that your roommate has disappeared without a trace?”

Your mouth opens and closes. You don’t know what to say, but you need to think of something, and fast, or else he’s gonna realize you’re feeling behind you for the knives. What would a final girl say? What would they say in the movies? “Uhm…thanks, but no thanks?” You say. Your voice is faint, and you hate it, because it’s betraying how worried you are. You suck in a shuddering breath. “I, uhm.” You shake your head in the hopes that it’ll clear your thoughts. It helps, if only a modicum. “As annoying as Betty might be at times, I’d, uh, appreciate it if you don’t, you know, murder her. Rent in New York is a real bitch.”

Alright, that works, you think to yourself. That’s morbidly funny, right?

Leland snorts in amusement, and you relax juuuuuuust a hair. He hasn’t yet noticed that you’re feeling around for the knives, and your fingers brush up against the wooden knife holder. “Great! So I’ll see you next Thursday at 3?” He chirps.

You blink as you lick your lips. “I, uhm. I work until 4:30.”

A flicker of irritation crosses his face. “Fine. Five, then.”

You nod. “Sure. Five.”

He holds up a finger at you. “Thursday! Don’t be late!”

You flash him the biggest smile you can muster as your hands wrap around one of the knives. “Thursday at five. I’ll underline it on my calendar.” You nod your head towards the magnetic calendar that’s hanging on your fridge, and when Leland glances at it, you strike.

On second thought, charging at the man probably wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had, but the fuck else are you supposed to do when he’s casually talking about killing your best friend?! It’s clumsy and dumb, but it’s too late; you’re committed to this. You lunge at him, the knife turned outwards. You’re really not sure what you’re meaning to do—intimate him? Slice him? Kill him yourself?—but it doesn’t even matter, because Leland has weirdly fast reflexes and he slaps the knife out of your hand easily. It doesn’t even fricking graze him, the son of a bitch.

The knife clatters to the floor. You try to duck down to grab it, but he grabs your arm and pins it to the table. You swipe at him with your other arm, but he manages to avoid it and pin that arm down, too. Now you’re both face-to-face, glaring at each other. You do the only other thing you can think of—you headbutt him, hard. He yelps in pain, but that wasn’t the best choice ever either because now your head hurts, too.

He releases your arms, but at the same time, he’s got the wherewithal to kick the knife away, and somehow you two have rotated in the kitchen so that he’s the one with his back to the rest of the knives and you’re the one with no other weapons.

Plus your head hurts like hell.

You’re huffing, breathing heavily, and he’s doing the same, but there’s laughter mingled in as Leland catches his breath. “Alright, that was fun! Not how I wanted our first session to go, but…” He raises a hand to you, not in retaliation, and you see that there’s red across his nose where your headbutt pushed his glasses into his nose.

You stare at him, dumbstruck, heart thudding in your ears. You’re genuinely not sure if you need to run away. You probably should, in all honesty, but then Leland moves, and you get ready to fight him again if you need to. 

But Leland doesn’t show any signs of wanting to keep fighting. Instead he reaches up to his cut nose, dips his finger in the red blood, and brings the finger to his mouth, where he slowly licks his own blood off of his finger.

And dammit all to hell, as fucked up as it is, it’s kinda sexy. You immediately shut down that line of thinking because what the fuck, brain, he just threatened Betty and for all you know, he might be planning to murder you after you just attacked him, you should not under any circumstances be attracted to that!

There’s warmth pooling in your lower belly as you watch him, and you have to wrench your face into an expression of horror to hide your true thoughts. God, what the hell was that?

Leland finishes licking his blood off of his finger and gives you a sultry, smug grin. “Oh, yeah, this is gonna be really fun,” he drawls, and there’s something in his voice that makes you flush, and you hate it. Betty is the one who falls for the shitheads. You’re the one who protects her from them. You do not put up with this kind of crap.

“Get out of my apartment,” you growl in a low voice, ignoring the throbbing in your forehead. You’re gonna have a lump there, you can tell.

His grin widens, and you catch a little splash of red on his teeth. He adjusts his glasses, wipes his nose. There’s no blood on the back of his hand, which means you didn’t headbutt him hard enough to break his nose. That’s unfortunate. “I can’t wait to see how next week goes. Maybe we’ll get to talk about Jordan.”

The name drop is casual, but the sensual warmth that you’d felt vanishes in a split second at the mention of your ex. You’ve been single for six months now, almost seven—Jordan was a disaster that fucked you up for a solid month and a half. How the hell does Leland know about him, though? You’ve taken great care to delete any and all traces of him. 

You don’t have time to ask that—not that you want to know, either. Leland Townsend has done his research on you and you hate it, but the sooner he’s out of your apartment, the sooner you can do some research on him.

“Get out,” you snarl. 

Leland looks pleased that he’s touched a nerve. “What’s the magic word?”

You glare at him. “Oh, my bad,” you say, forcing yourself to sound sweet. “I meant to say, ‘Please get the fuck out’.”

Leland laughs at that. “Alright, since you asked so nicely.” He turns his back on you, and you’re tempted to lunge for the knives and just stab him in his stupid creepy back, but he probably wants you to try that, and you can’t risk his stupidly fast reflexes, so you don’t. You stand in your spot, stiff, unblinking, only moving to make sure he’s actually going out the door and not trying to stay behind. “See you next week at five!”

“Yeah, whatever,” you mutter. He flashes you yet another wide grin, one that you return in the most shit-eating way possible. His eyes are still cool, but they’re tinged with amusement. He enjoys your anger, the sicko. 

The moment the door shuts behind him, you rush to it and lock it. You also go to the window and watch him get into his car. He turns his head towards you as he opens the door and gives you a wave, which you return with a middle finger and another falsely bright smile. You see him laugh at you before he climbs into the car and drives away.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” you ask as his car grows smaller and smaller, the distance between you and him growing greater. “What the fuck is going on with me?”

You turn away from the window and take a seat at the kitchen table, your eyes landing on the knife on the floor. You kick it, sending it spinning across the kitchen and under the fridge, which makes you groan in frustration as you drop to your knees to retrieve it.

When you’ve tossed it into the sink, you turn to the rest of the kitchen. Leland’s empty mug is still sitting there on the table, and you scowl at the sight. You’d love nothing more than to smash the mug, but it’s your favorite one. How the hell had he wound up with that mug, of all the coffee mugs in this place? It’s like he somehow knew that you’d want to smash it when he left, like this is some kind of sick test of your self-control.

Well, screw that bullshit. You’re not gonna smash your mug, but you’re not gonna take this lying down, either. You’re gonna research the hell outta this guy, and then once you figure out his weaknesses, you’re gonna scare the fuck out of him before he can do the same to you.

You make yourself pick up the mug and put it gently into the sink. There’s a smear of red on the rim, and you’re reminded of the way he’d looked at you as he’d sucked the blood off of his finger.

That warm feeling returns, and you hate yourself for being just a little turned on by the memory.

To stop yourself from reminiscing any further (you will not catch feelings for this psychopath), you turn to your writing assignments. Maybe writing about you feelings will get them out of your system, and then you can turn your full attention to researching this blue-eyed bastard.

You’re also gonna have to give Betty a talk about letting strangers into the apartment. A very strict talk.

“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “for I’ve often heard it said

They never, never wake again, who rest upon your bed!”

————————————————

Part Three

[w1th3red-t00th]

TNG Bridge Crew and how I imagine hugging them would be like

Picard: gives out one hug a year, it is a brief embrace with a clap on the back and then you are never allowed to speak of it again.

— Riker is usually the recipient of Picard’s annual hug, but only because he will push past people or make sure that nobody else remembers that it’s hug day to get it. Except for the one year after the Nova incident at Starfleet Academy, when he lets Wesley have the hug. The Boy needed it.

Riker: This. Man. Is. A. Hugger. It doesn’t matter if you’ve known him for ten minutes or ten years, the man is like Oprah with his hugs. “EVERYBODY GETS A HUUUUUUUG!” But honestly, with how much he cares about his crew, he is more than willing to give a hug to anyone who needs it (Deanna helps him determine which crew members both need a hug and would be receptive to them). And he gives the kind of hugs that squish your soul back into your body, and depending on the severity of the need for a hug he may add in anywhere from a gentle rocking from side to side or a kiss to the top of the head—with consent of course.

Data: fascinated by the concept of hugs and the physical and mental health benefits that they can provide. Has to be careful though. He once experimented by hugging Geordie and ended up bruising a couple of his ribs.

Deanna: is open to all forms of consensual physical affection. Thanks to her empathic abilities, she always knows who’s in need of a hug and how much they need it. And when she comes up to you and gives you that hug you so desperately need that you end up sobbing on her shoulder, she gently coaxes you to her office, and that’s how she gets you into therapy. Mental health matters y’all! Go to therapy.

Geordie: a hugger, but only with the people he knows really well. Definitely suffers from “nice guy” syndrome, but it’s not because he’s creepy, just autistic. What do you mean my offer of friendship was came across as a come on? How is watching ancient cartoons on the holodeck romantic? The people who do get to be on the receiving end of Geordie’s hugs say that they’re very nice, similar soul-squishing experience as Riker’s, just shorter and less frequent.

Beverly: similar to Geordie, she only hugs people she knows very well, because she strives to maintain an air or professionalism, since literally any crew member could wind up being a patient. Gives the typical mom hugs that usually accompany warm chocolate chip cookies straight out of the replicator.

Wesley: Wants Hugs. Needs Hugs. Deserves Hugs. Only gets hugs from his mom and maybe Riker. And Geordie one time. And of course, his singular Picard hug. But seriously, someone give Wesley hugs!

Worf: absolutely not a hugger. Worf values his personal space and will remind you of it if he even thinks you’re getting too close. But if he were a hugger, he would give the kind of hugs that lift you off your feet and crack your back.

Tasha: Given her upbringing, she is not a hugger and relatively touch-averse. But if she wants to show you affection, she will give your shoulders a gentle squeeze, accompanied with a nod of her head. Similar to a cat’s slow blink, you wouldn’t know it’s affection unless you know her, but if she does show it to you, consider yourselves lucky to be in her favor.

[jupiterpiss]

SIGHHHHH

Roman Roy brain rot has me in a chokehold. SOMEONE HELP. I did a brief read through. This probably has a thousand grammar errors and stuff. this isn’t my best work. Sorry bout that. This is short. Might make this into something else.. idk. We’ll see. Sort of x reader.. but no use of “you” or anything. It’s a fem!reader btw!!

On one hand, Roman could name a few things he genuinely took an interest in. He couldn’t name them now, as his mind is always juggling fifty different thoughts, and he’s certain that if he were to try and focus on one he would have an aneurysm.

Though if he thinks hard enough the list goes something along the lines of “petty drama” as third or “the latest headlines about either him or his father” as second.

If he thinks harder, somewhere in there his father’s approval sits as fifth. Something he wishes was further down.

Then somewhere else, squeezed between his desperation to know what his father thought of him and what others thought of him, was her. As first. Or fourth. Right in the thick of it.

He thinks of it as a piece of popcorn lodged in the gaps of his teeth, something his tongue pokes and wiggles but can never slip out. He could use his fingers or a toothpick, metaphors for the obvious solution of just letting her go and moving on with his life, but he was never a fan of picking the easy way out.

“Aren’t you just gluttonous for punishment?” He scoffs at Kendall’s words now, pushing away the fact he was correct. Of course, he was. It was a fucking obvious thing.

It was exactly why he never strayed away from her.

Being hated wasn’t new for Roman, if anything, it was the ‘normal’. Being ‘nice’ didn’t get anyone far, at least that was the idea rammed into his head since childhood. It was why he never looked for anyone sickly sweet, never fell for someone who didn’t have some bite to their bark.

It was why he never bothered to tug loose the leash that was strung snug around his neck, tied neatly by the very woman he should’ve despised years ago.

He couldn’t though. Hate her, that was. He couldn’t. Physically, mentally, emotionally something inside him tug deep into his bones and ripped out any anger he could feel.

Whether it was possession or his inability to accept the fact he deserved better, something held him back. He didn’t really know, and in all honesty he didn’t really fucking care.

“You’re a sick pervert sometimes, you know that?” She tilts her head at him, brows furrowed as her eyes flicker between his. Seeking from something he isn't aware of, but is certain she’ll find.

She always did.

He smirks, “Maybe,” He shrugs, “Reason for everything,” her gaze only makes him nervous, forcing him to cast his gaze somewhere else.

“Right. Your pervy nature is just a part of something bigger,” she presses.

And just like wet clay under moist hands, he gives in, “something closer to a lawsuit than a ‘higher being’ nature sort of deal. Right? That’s what you always joke about?” She stays silent, he only continues, “fuck- Jesus, staring at me like my creepy pervert uncle-“

“Just trying to give you the ‘Roman Roy experience’ you always gift me,” she argues which only makes him sputter, “oh fuck off.”

“Can’t, you’ll only follow,” and god damn it, isn’t it just funny? Because he would follow, he would follow in a god damn heartbeat. Probably like a sad kicked puppy too. Fuck.

“Don’t you have some businessmen to jerk off? Someone to give the old ‘slip and slide’ too.”

He hopes for some sort of response, some small jab and maybe some banter that would fill the void of a conversation they never have.

But he doesn’t get that, he only gets the continued ‘creepy uncle stare’ as she peers into his wandering eyes. She’s still searching. It’s only when brow twitches and a pout forms on her lips that he realises she found what she was looking for.

“Right, something you’d only wish for,” She backs away from him, “Should really stop speaking your imagination out loud. People might get the wrong idea. Might think you actually want to fuck me,” she pauses, “But I highly doubt your rat dick can handle anything past your hand.”

She walks away, leaving him standing like an idiot.

Later that night he looks at engagement rings.