#and out of the two daves the one who needs to be taken care of

[fag-stuck]

karkat undoubtedly always tops dave

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Sugar Daddy Chronicles, Part One/?

pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller/dave york/marcus pike x sex worker/sugar baby!reader

rating: E (18+ only, this is just filth, sex work, unprotected piv, foursome, anal, oral (f & m receiving), the boys use their words)

wc: 2k

a/n: i wrote this for the SWEETEST ANGEL IN THE WORLD @emilianamason and her birthday. te amo hermanita y feliz cumple !!! 🫶🏼

You’d met Dave by chance. During a short stint working as a bartender at an upscale bar, Dave came in looking as serious as ever in his expensive coat and suit—a prime target for a solid tip if you played your cards right. Thankfully, Dave turned out to be quite handsome and charming, his dark eyes and deep voice drawing you in until you no longer cared about the tip you were working for. All you wanted was him. When he took you home that night, he explained his recent divorce and inability to carry on something serious at the moment, and you accepted the fact that this would be a one night thing. But Dave had something else in mind.

“You come and see me when I call,” he said, dragging his lips down the line of your neck as he undid your bra. “I make it worth your while.”

“How?” you asked, your voice breathy and dazed.

“Anything you want,” he said. “Anything. Ask for it, and it’s yours.”

“Like…sexually?” you asked, earning a chuckle.

“Anything. Sex, money, jewelry, whatever,” he said.

And that was how your new career began.

It was just Dave for a while, but during a particularly long business trip of his, you found yourself wondering what it would be like to open your clientele up a bit, still keeping things incredibly selective, of course.

That’s how you met Joel, a gruff, single dad who owned a contracting company that had only just taken off after his fortieth birthday. Joel was an easy client. He knew exactly what he wanted from you, never pushed your boundaries, and always compensated you handsomely for your time together—not that the payment was even on your mind by the time he was through with you. Joel liked things rough most of the time—not so rough that he ever hurt you, but rough enough to leave a satisfying ache between your legs for a day or two after. And though he was rough, he loved taking the time to work up to it, telling you that he’d happily keep his head between your thighs for hours if he could, and you’d often let him.

Once Dave came back, he introduced you to a distant coworker and friend he met at a conference, Marcus, another government agent of some sort—he kept the specifics of his job discreet and separated from your arrangement, just like Dave. Marcus came to you for stress relief, and his favorite form of stress relief involved near-torturous teasing and edging until he couldn’t remember his own name. But Marcus was unlike Dave and Joel in that he liked the extra stuff that they didn’t: cuddling, kissing, conversation. He wanted to be your friend as well as your client, and who were you to deny those sweet eyes of his?

One night after a particularly athletic session, Dave had asked you who your favorite client was and why. Judging by the confidence in his voice, you knew he expected you to tell him that he was your favorite by a long shot, but truthfully, it was hard to compare them all. Dave was passionate and kinky, Joel was rough and giving, and Marcus was attentive and precise. All of them were your favorite, you thought.

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging as you tugged your jeans over your hips. “Hard to choose. I’d need to…I don’t know.”

“Need to what?” he probed, watching you from his spot on the bed.

“Need to have you all in one place to judge,” you said, giving him a mildly embarrassed smile. “But that—“

“That’s a good idea,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “I’ll win.”

You laughed at his confidence and shook your head. “Too bad we’ll never find out,” you said, pulling on your shoes.

“Why not?” You gave Dave a quirked brow. “I’m in.”

“I don’t think they’d be into it.”

“Why not ask? Worst thing they could say is no,” he said. You felt yourself start to melt at the idea of being surrounded by the three of them in bed, each of them competing to win you over and make you feel good. It was a good idea, but could you ever convince the other two?

Turns out, you could. And now you were laying spread eagle on a hotel bed recovering from two orgasms brought on by Dave and Marcus’ tongues. Dave now laid on your right, Marcus on your left, while Joel laid on his stomach between your thighs, pushing you over another peak.

“Fuck,” you cried, tossing your head back to give Dave access to his favorite spot on your neck, his hand cupping the weight of your breast while Marcus mouthed at the other, his hand on your thigh keeping you spread open for Joel. “You win,” you breathed, pushing his tongue away as you shook with every swirl of his tongue against you. “God, I don’t know if—“

“Uh-uh,” Dave tutted in your ear, sliding his hand down your stomach to circle your clit as Marcus and Joel switched positions. “We’re just getting started.”

“Mmhm,” Joel agreed, turning your chin to draw your eyes to his. “Still wanna show you how good I fuck you.”

“Not until I’m done,” Marcus said, pulling your eyes to him as he sat between your thighs, his fist wrapped around his cock as he dragged it up and down your seam. You shivered at the feeling of him against you, somehow feeling needy again already. “Can I? Can I fuck you, baby?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your head falling back against the pillows as he nodded and pressed inside you slowly, making you feel every inch. “Fuck, Marcus.”

“Mmhm,” he hummed, smiling down at you as his hands moved to the back of your thighs to push them up to your chest. “Feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your face wrecked with pleasure as he methodically found the perfect pace and angle to fuck you just how you liked, his natural attention to detail on display. “It’s so good, Marcus. Fuck.”

“Making me jealous,” Dave purred against your shoulder, leaving a love bite there. “Have I showed you how I fuck when I’m jealous?”

His words made you whine and arch your back, drawing Marcus even deeper.

“Shit,” Marcus moaned, his fingers gripping your thighs. “So good, baby.”

“You ready to share yet?” Dave asked, clearly growing impatient.

“You want Dave, baby?” Marcus asked, slowing his thrusts into a deep grind.

“Mmhm,” you nodded eagerly, biting your lip as you looked down at where Dave was stroking his thick length. “Fuck, yeah, I do.”

“You want both of us?” Dave asked, circling your clit as Marcus kept fucking into you slowly. “Marcus fucking your pussy, me in your ass.”

You whined and nodded, choosing to shove your nerves aside in favor of Dave’s sinful plan.

Marcus helped you up and took your place on the bed, guiding you onto his lap so that you could sit on his dick while Dave got comfortable behind you, coating his head with lube he must’ve brought along with this very thing in mind before pressing against your tighter hole gently.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, whispering in your ear as he kept you still on Marcus’s lap while he eased himself inside.

“Shit, it’s so much,” you sighed, trying to relax into the feeling rather than fight it.

“Need a distraction?” Joel asked, standing up on the bed at your side, his fist working his cock until it was leaking.

“You’re definitely the biggest,” you noted in a pant, earning scoffs from the two men inside of you. “What? You told me to be honest.”

Joel smirked down at you as you reached over and wrapped your fist around him only to find that your fingertips couldn’t touch.

“See?” you said, earning a grunt from Dave as he finally bottomed out inside of you.

“That’s not really what I care about looking at here,” Marcus said, his hands smoothing up your sides until he was cupping the weight of your breasts. “How about I watch you ride instead?”

You smiled and nodded, licking your lips and leaning in to take Joel into your mouth before lifting your hips to rock against both Dave and Marcus, all three men moaning in unison at your affect on them. It was intoxicating, being desired this much by these gorgeous men. So intoxicating, you thought, you might just have to make this a normal thing.

“‘at’s it,” Joel purred, cupping your cheek as you took him in deep enough to sputter. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

“You like that, baby?” Dave asked, leaning over to whisper in your ear as he started to match your bounces with thrusts of his own. “You like how being told how good you are?”

“Yeah, she does,” Marcus chimed in, smiling at you as he watched you take Joel down your throat.

Your mind was mush, nothing but a string of muffled cries and whines and the lewd sounds of Joel fucking your throat coming out of you.

“Baby, I’m so close,” Marcus announced, his hands gripping at your waist to keep you still while he and Dave alternated sharp, quick thrusts into you, the pleasure trickling down into your thighs until your legs felt like jelly.

“Need you to cum for us,” Dave purred in your ear.

“Be a good fuckin’ girl and cum,” Joel ordered, his southern drawl deep and dark and delicious.

You pulled off of Joel right before you felt yourself slipping off into bliss, your hand stroking his slick shaft as you cried out, leaning back against Dave until it felt like you were on solid ground again.

“Can I cum inside you, baby?” Marcus asked, his voice as sweet and sinful as ever. “Look so pretty full of me, yeah?”

“Mmhm,” you agreed, thanking the heavens that birth control exists. “Cum inside me, Marcus, baby.”

“Shit,” Marcus hissed, his brows screwing together as he fucked into you selfishly, chasing his pleasure until it hit him like a truck. “Jesus.”

“Look at me,” Joel ordered, using a finger to tilt your chin up at him. “Wanna paint that pretty fuckin’ face.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, licking your lips. “Go ahead, paint it.”

Joel took his cock in his hand and stroked it, it’s slick sound filling the room along with the slap of Dave’s hips into your ass and his whispered promises of how he’s going to fill you up because you were “so fucking good for me”.

“Shit,” Joel grunted, his chest heaving and muscles flexing as he reached his peak. His tense jaw went slack as he watched his release paint your face, a moan slipping from his lips when you poked your tongue out to swipe over your lips to get a taste of him. “Fuck me.”

“You ready, baby?” Dave nipped at your shoulder before leaning back to watch himself cum inside of you with a satisfied sigh, as if this had been all he ever wanted in his whole life. “I don’t think it matters which one of us is best in bed. You’re clearly the winner here, baby.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, sated and sleepy as Joel grabbed a washcloth for your face.

“I knew that from the start,” Marcus said, combing his fingers up and down your thighs.

“So, how much is this meeting gonna cost us?” Dave asked, always one to get right to the point.

“This one’s on the house,” you said, letting Joel clean your face free of his mess.

“Not gonna happen,” Joel muttered, something equally strict and affectionate in his tone. “You earned it.”

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

vampire!dave mustaine x reader | word count: 4120 | ao3 link

It was inebriating, how completely surrendered to him you were. How fragile, and warm, and wanting.  How human.

✦ on this fic: NSFW!!!, dave mustaine x female!reader, +18, language, romance, mxf sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, blood mention, blood drinking

✦ a/n: It's October! And in honor of spooky month I came up with this one-shot. It's my first time writing directly in English (I usually write in my language and translate it) so I hope it's written okay. Hope you like it, feedbacks are welcome! ❤

You and Dave had an agreement.

You were close, but not too close. You both knew you could rely on each other no matter what, but you also knew there was something deeper, something you never had the guts to admit. You held onto the hope that one day the stars would align and things would magically fall into place. 

But then came the incident.

You'd always prided yourself on being unshockable, even in the wild streets of '89 LA. So when he showed up at your door looking like he'd been through a meat grinder, your first thought was that he’d probably gone and overdone it with the drugs again. It was becoming a familiar routine, taking care of him when nobody else cared. With a heavy sigh, you let him in, helping him stay on his feet and noticing how cold his skin felt.

"Dave, seriously, this time we might need to call a doctor."

"Nah," he grunted, voice strained. "No doctors. I'm good."

"What the hell happened to you?" You grabbed his hand and plopped down beside him. Whatever he'd taken this time, it was way gnarlier than his usual drug trips, and that's saying something. Dave looked like he was on the verge of sweating bullets even though it was a hot LA night. He was feverish, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead while he shook like a leaf. It should've been balmy, but if you judged by his icy-cold skin, you'd think it was the middle of winter.

"I got goddamn turned, that’s what happened" he hissed through clenched teeth, his whole body convulsing with pain. You took a step back, heart pounding like crazy. Well, that was one curveball you hadn't seen coming. Vampire attacks had become rarer than a sober rock star in the last few decades, but they still happened. You had a cousin who got bit a few years back, but luckily, the doctors managed to suck out the venom in the nick of time. That memory kicked you into high gear as you scrambled to find your damn keys.

"Dave, seriously, we gotta get you to the hospital. Maybe there's still a chance..."

"No, man, there's no damn time!" He yelled, desperate, and you just stared at him, totally stunned. "They made me drink their fucking blood. It's a done deal, I'm a fucking monster now, no way back from this!"

Your heart plummeted. Real-life vampire transformations weren't as simple as the movies and comics made them out to be. You had to get jabbed with vampire venom and guzzle some vampire blood almost right after to make it work. Plus, those bloodsuckers could choose whether to shoot their venom or just chow down on their victims.

So that meant the turnings were pretty much always on purpose.

Once it was done, it was game over.

You inched closer to Dave, your heart heavy as you gazed at the man you'd been secretly crushing on for ages. It was too painful, watching him suffer like this. You'd always held onto that hope that the stolen glances, the way you looked out for each other, and the sheer joy you found in each other's company would someday turn into something more than just friendship.

But right now, it felt like you were on the verge of losing him. Vampires weren't exactly welcome in human society; they were straight-up predators, destined to lurk in the shadows and strike when the night fell. If Dave had gone down that dark path, maybe it was time to say goodbye to the days of you two being together.

But you couldn't let that happen. You couldn't let him suffer, wounded, scared, and all alone.

Because you had an agreement.

You knew you could rely on him; he knew he could always count on you.

Dave's eyes widened as you got closer, extending your wrist toward him. He stared at you, confusion and hunger swirling in his dilated pupils. 

"Drink," you whispered, your voice trembling. He shook his head, looking horrified by the suggestion, but you closed the gap even more. "Please. You need this, Dave. You need me."

You shut your eyes and turned your head away as his hunger took over, and he sank his teeth into your skin.

It was one of those nights, the usual routine. You'd roll in from work, and there was Dave, chilling on your bed in the pitch-black room. You hadn't laid eyes on him for days, but you knew the drill. He hated having to feed, hated hurting people, but he couldn't seem to find any other way around it. Except for one option: you.

Dave had initially refused to feed on your blood ever since he had almost killed you, that night many months ago. You'd tried helping him find some alternative, but turns out, it was a way tougher gig than you'd thought. Animal blood did nothing for his thirst, and he wasn't skilled enough yet to drink from people without going overboard and killing them — or getting dangerously close to it.

The best you could come up with was nabbing a sip from folks who'd just kicked the bucket, but that meant finding fresh corpses without drawing any heat, and that was easier said than done. Maybe for him, it was a walk in the park, but for you, a regular human, helping him sneak into hospitals and morgues after dark was a recipe for disaster. Dave didn't want you caught up in the mess, or worse, in jail, because of him.

In the end, offering up your blood was the easier fix if he didn't want to go full-on vampire and start killing people. It was the one way he could hold onto a tiny shred of his former human self. At the beginning, it was rough on him, no doubt about it. You watched him suffer, saw how terrified he was of losing control.

But with time, he toughened up. After the initial shock wore off, his thirst started to chill out. Nowadays, he only needed a sip every week. You knew that if he was doing things the "old-school" vampire way, he'd be guzzling down a whole human's worth of blood every couple of months, but this was the sanest workaround you could come up with to keep the body count at zero.

You were cool with it, as long as he stuck around. As long as you knew he was okay.

At first, he used to nibble on your wrist for a meal. But after just a few weeks, he upgraded to the neck. It was smoother for him and more comfortable for you, too. Better access, and if you ever got woozy from the blood loss, he could keep you steady. But having him that close? Well, that was... let's say, unsettling. Sure, maybe he wasn't human anymore, but it didn't mean your feelings for him had just vanished. In fact, being the only tie he had to his old human self just made those feelings kick it up a notch.

"Your heart's pounding," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. You gulped hard, cursing how damn close you were, and how he could practically read your body like a book. After drinking your blood, his lips and cheeks had acquired a subtle pinkish tint, and his once warm, brown eyes had turned into this oddly beautiful shade of red.

"You freak me out," you fibbed, the excuse tumbling out in a rush but full of stubbornness. He grinned at your words, a playful glint in his eye.

"Do I now?" he teased, giving your hip a gentle squeeze as he pulled you closer. His chilly skin pressed against yours, sending shivers up your spine. He nuzzled your neck, his tongue brushing against your tender skin, making you whimper. "You know, they never spill this secret before they turn you – you can smell fear. And the scent of fear... it's something else. But you, you're not afraid of me, even though you probably should be."

"Why?" you breathed out, doing your best to shove aside the way your heart was practically doing a drum solo now. In the good old days, back when he was just human, you'd daydreamed about this like there was no tomorrow. To be this close to him, to feel his lips upon your skin. But now, with him all changed up, being this near wasn't anything like what you'd pictured.

"I could kill you right here, drain you dry," he growled, and you let out a little whimper as he bit down again, pulling you close and setting you down on the bed. His bite gradually turned into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You had to muffle a moan with your hand when he started sipping from your neck, taking even more of your blood. He backed off, fingers gripping your chin, making you meet his gaze. He studied your flushed face, lips slightly parted, eyes bleary. "And yet you like this. Why?"

"I dunno," you breathed out, shakily. You let out another whimper as he pressed his body against yours, his grip on your hair firm as he locked eyes with you, a fiery intensity in his gaze that revved up your heartbeat. You gasped in shock when he kissed you, his tongue diving into your mouth, the taste of your own blood making your head spin. You tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer like it was out of your control, and he let out a soft laugh against your lips.

"I can smell desire, too, you know?" he mentioned, his hand sneaking under your pants and tracing along the edge of your panties, sending shivers down your spine. You opened your mouth, caught off guard, your face turning all shades of red, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever with him. How could he read you like a book? You hated this new side of him, the side you didn't know how to deal with, the side that fully understood the power he had over you.

The side of him that enjoyed it.  

"Dave, we shouldn't be crossing this line," you managed to whisper, and he let out a grunt.

"We've already crossed so many lines," he argued. "Plus, I owe you. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

"I don't want us doing this just because you think you owe me," you frowned, and he huffed in response. You licked your lower lip, a fresh tension building between your legs. Even though you were still pissed at how he could see right through you, it wasn't like you didn't want this. "You can have whatever you want from me, no need to ask. As long as it's you..."

"No," he grumbled. "Don't say it like that, like I mean something to you. I'm a damn monst—"

"Oh, shut up," you whispered, cutting him off, and he gave you a puzzled look. Sure, he might be a whole new version of Dave from the one you used to know, but did it even matter? "You're not a monster. You got turned, yeah, but you're still you . And I'd give you anything, Dave, even if you were still human. That's how it's always been. I just..."

Your words trailed off as his lips crashed into yours again, his chilly hands gripping your waist firmly, and you couldn't help but let out a muffled moan.

"I wanna eat you whole," he groaned. "If you only knew how your heart races when I lay my eyes on you. It's driving me wild. If I'd known you felt like this sooner..."

"You know now," you whispered. His gaze locked onto yours, carrying a mix of anger, sadness, and something else. Something intense and deep that made your stomach twist and your skin tingle. Something that made you feel like he could have his way with you — and you'd let him.

"You're not exactly making this easy," he muttered, his voice low. You let out a nervous chuckle. You'd always pictured this — his body and yours, tangled up in your bed. In your fantasies, he was still human and madly in love with you. Was he in love with you now? Or did he only love how human you still were? How you stood by him even after his life had taken a nosedive and changed forever?

Did any of that really matter?

"I don't want easy," you replied, trailing your fingertips along his collarbone, slow and deliberate. You pulled him closer, your lips nearly brushing against his. You could feel his breath on your skin as he held you, making your heart race faster. "Everything's already a damn mess. If you wanna eat me whole, then just go ahead and do it."

He let out a deep groan as he yanked you closer, urgently, his hands roaming your body eagerly as you both stripped off your clothes. The room was dark, with only moonlight to guide you; his pale skin was smooth, soft against your naked form as his lips trailed all over you. You couldn't help but let out a throaty moan as he peppered you with kisses, drawing you closer and closer to him.

"Dave..." you hid your face in his hair as he teased your breast, biting down gently and leaving a trail of purple marks across your skin. He let out a low groan in response, grinding his hips against yours before pulling back slightly, looking deep into your eyes. He looked beautiful, supernatural; otherworldly strange, and that only made you love him even more. You wrapped your hand around his cock, using his precum as lubricant as you swiped your thumb over the tip in a slow, circular motion. He closed his eyes, grinding his hips against you as he let out your name in a strained moan. “Please, Dave, let me make you feel good.” you whispered. It was all you'd ever wanted, really — to serve him, to give him everything he craved and needed.

To be his, forever.

Dave moaned your name again, his strong arms pulling you close. You tangled your hands in his hair and locked your lips with his once more. His tongue dove into your mouth, kissing you with a fiery intensity. You wondered if it felt different for him now that he could sense the warmth of your blood, hear your heart racing, and smell how he was setting your body on fire.

He sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he kept kissing you. He let out a grunt when your lips traveled to his ear and then down his neck. You bit and sucked on his exposed skin while he dug his fingers into your hair, your lips and tongue exploring his chest, his stomach, his thighs.

And then his cock.

You started on his tip, your tongue slowly licking on it, pressing and rubbing it against your lips, tasting him leisurely. You raised your eyes to look at Dave; he looked back at you, his eyes bleary and out of focus as one of his hands grabbed a fistful of your hair. He wrapped his hand around his cock’s base, pressing it against your lips, and you opened your mouth obediently, welcoming him into your mouth.

“You’re so warm.” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his body tensing up as you moved your head slowly, up and down, the taste of his skin invading your mouth. He panted, bucking his hips forward. “You feel so good. Wanna cum inside your pretty mouth, oh fuck…” 

You whimpered as he started moving his hips, tears filling your eyes as he pushed your head down on his cock. He groaned, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he took control of you, pushing it slowly until you had all his length inside your mouth. He then pulled it out, rubbing the tip against your lips before he pushed again, and again, until he was moving in a steady rhythm inside your mouth. 

“Look at me.” he grunted, and you tried your best to raise your teary eyes and look at him. He groaned when his eyes met yours. You were trying your best to keep breathing while allowing him to fuck your mouth harder and harder. Your throat was growing sore as your pussy throbbed. You were such a mess. You were so happy. He needed you. You loved him. He was yours then, his lips parted as he moaned your name and his cock ravaged your throat, all control you both could have had in that moment forgotten as he arched his hips forward and moved faster, and harder, and… “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna-Oh, shit!” he cried out as he came inside your mouth. You did your best to swallow it, the bitter taste lingering on your mouth as he let go of your hair, his breath uneven as his eyes closed. 

You sat down in front of him, trying your best to clean up the mix of semen and drool that ran down your chin. He gazed at you, his red eyes shining in the dim room, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His ginger hair was like copper against his pale, bare skin; you were never gonna grow tired of how stunning he looked.

"Get over here," he murmured, pulling you closer. You settled onto his lap, legs wrapped around his waist as he nuzzled into the curve of your neck, his breath tickling your skin. He kissed your neck slowly, then moved up to give your earlobe a gentle nip, and you let out a sigh, shutting your eyes.

"Dave..." you whispered, a hint of pleading in your tone. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he continued to lavish your neck, jaw, and collarbones with kisses.You were miserably wet, your pussy aching as you felt his cock grow hard once more against your thigh.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”he whispered in your ear, and a soft moan escaped your lips as he grabbed your ass firmly. You pressed your body against his, burying your hands in his hair as you ground your hips together.

“Oh, fuck.” you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes again. Your whole body was aflame against his cold skin, fire and ice melting together. Your heart was pounding as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, holding your ass firmly. He grunted when you moved your hips eagerly, holding you into place and preventing you from sitting on his cock. “Dave…”

"You're gonna have to ask nicely," he whispered, his voice deep and alluring, like a predator who knew his prey couldn't escape. He whispered your name, his tone surprisingly tender, and you let out a sigh, your cheeks growing warm as he gripped your neck, his fingers urging your face to meet his gaze. "Tell me what you want."

“I want you to fuck me.” you pleaded, and he laughed at how easily he could command you. He was having fun, drunk in his power and in you, the sweet smell of your hair, of your blood, the warmth of your skin. It was inebriating, how completely surrendered to him you were. How fragile, and warm, and wanting. 

How human.

"Say please," he teased, a sly grin playing on his lips. You let out an exasperated groan.

"You're messing with me."

"Am I?" he pressed the tip of his cock harder against your entrance, and you whimpered when he penetrated you with his tip for just a bit before pulling out. “Tell me what you want.” he commanded, and you couldn't muster the strength to resist him any longer.

“Please, fuck me.” you pleaded, and he laughed before pulling you closer. You moaned as you felt his cock enter you, adjusting to his size as he pushed slowly. You gasped when he put it all inside, the tip of his cock hitting the sweetest spot inside of you. It felt so, so good. He was going so, so slow. It was maddening, you were on fire, you felt whole for the first time in forever. 

You started moving, slowly at first, but then setting into a steady pace as he held you close, burying your face in his hair. You were sure you were dying, drunk on the smell of his body and the feel of his cold skin against yours, but you couldn’t care less. It was like poison, feeling his cock thrusting deep inside of you as you moved up and down and he whispered your name, his voice strained as he moaned with you and held you so tight it felt almost as if he would break you. 

You didn’t care; you were his now. You were bonded to him. You were his.

You moaned his name as he started rubbing your clit, your pace growing faster as he pushed harder inside you. You were shaking, your legs were burning as you rode his cock; it felt like heaven. You whimpered when he slapped your ass, burying his nose on your neck and then biting on your skin, tasting your blood once again as you bounced on him. 

You knew he was close, too; his grip on your skin tightened as he pulled away, blood trickling down his chin as he looked deep into your eyes and you moaned louder and louder, your tits bouncing up and down as you chased your high, holding on to him like your life depended on it. 

“Dave, you feel so good. Dave, oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum. Dave… ” you moaned, words growing irrational and senseless as your pussy started contracting slowly. He moaned, praising you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear — how you were such a good girl. How you tasted so good, how you felt so tight around his cock, how good it felt to be inside of you. You cried out as your orgasm took every little bit of control you had left, making your whole body contract and shake. 

Dave grunted, holding you close as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, sweet, lovely words leaving his lips like honey, taking you over the edge again, and again, and again, and now he was coming too, his thick semen filling you to the brim as his thrusts grew sloppier. You buried your face in his hair, allowing him to take his cock out of you, your pussy still throbbing with pleasure, feeling suddenly faint. 

"Oh, God," you whispered, and you could feel Dave's quiet laughter beneath you more than you could hear it as he held you close. "I think I might pass out."

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he whispered, panting, and you weakly chuckled. "You lost a lot of blood. I shouldn't have taken so much."

“I think I’d be okay if you weren’t fucking me while doing it.” you grumbled, and he laughed again. His fingers traced along your back, and you sighed contentedly as he lifted you effortlessly, placing you on the bed and lying down beside you. You opened your eyes, studying his face, taking in everything that made him who he was. He looked more like the old, human Dave than ever before, with the vulnerability he showed, that old beautiful smile on his lips, and a touch of cockiness that only made him more endearing. “What’s making you smile?”

"I love you," he said. You blinked, your lips parting slowly. For someone who prided yourself on not being easily surprised, you found yourself caught off guard by him quite often.

"I love you too," you managed to whisper with a giggle. He smiled and pulled you closer.

"I know. I've known for a while," he said, pressing his index finger against your chest. You blushed when you realized how fast your heart was beating. "See? It's so loud I'm surprised you can't hear it."

"Oh, shut up, you freak," you whispered, and he laughed. You studied his face, running your fingertips softly along his lower lip. "I'm kidding. You're not a freak. But I am. I'm in love with a damn vampire."

"Do you care?" he asked, a slight hint of worry in his voice. You smiled and shook your head.

"Hell no, Mustaine."

"Then it's all good."

"Yeah."

"As long as we're together," he whispered, and you smiled, knowing that nothing had changed after all. You knew you could always count on him; he knew he could always count on you.

You were bonded.

You were his.

[wondereads]

An Extended List of Retellings

It was recently Tell a Fairy Tale Day (02/26), so here's an updated and expanded list of retellings for all fairy tale- and folklore-obsessed readers!

*Key at the end of the post*

The Hazel Wood by Melissa Albert (Fairy Tale-esque)

Alice's grandmother is known for her collection of stories that has spawned a cult-like following, spawning plenty of fanatics to follow Alice and her mother around. But this new group is strange, weirder than the rest, and when they take Alice's mother, she must literally dive into the world of her grandmother's stories to save her. (YA, low fantasy)

Damsel by Elana K. Arnold (Fairy Tale-esque)

Ama remembers nothing. All she knows is that she was saved by Prince Emory from a vicious dragon. It seems she will be taken care of for the rest of her life as a pampered princess, but as she learns more about her new home, the more darkness seems to well up around the edges. *read trigger warnings* (NA, high fantasy)

The Frog Princess by E. D. Baker (The Frog Prince)

Princess Emeralda is about to be caught in an unfortunate engagement, but she finds an escape in a talking frog. A frog who claims he is a prince, a perfect excuse to escape a betrothal. What she doesn't expect is being turned into a frog herself with no clue how to change both of them back. (MG, high fantasy)

The Wide-Awake Princess by E. D. Baker (Sleeping Beauty)

Princess Gwen was tragically cursed to fall into a magical sleep, so when her younger sister, Annie, is born, she is given only one christening gift—the ability to resist any magic. When the curse comes true and Gwen falls asleep, Annie sets out to find her sister's true love and wake the kingdom again. (MG, high fantasy)

Peter and the Starcatchers by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson (Peter Pan)

From an orphanage in London, Peter and his mysterious friend, Molly, arrive at a faraway island. There, pirates and adventures abound, but nothing is as exciting as a precious new substance that can cure wounds, give flight, and keep people young forever. (MG, low fantasy)

The Looking Glass Wars by Frank Beddor (Alice in Wonderland)

When Wonderland, land of dreams and imagination, undergoes a bloody coup, Princess Alyss Heart is forced to flee to the real world, taking on the name Alice Liddel. Years later, she is needed to win Wonderland back, but is it time for Alyss' imagination to be saved? (YA, low fantasy)

The Sisters Grimm by Michael Buckley (multiple)

Sabrina and Daphne Grimm have bounced from foster home to foster home before their formerly-unknown grandmother takes them in. She seems like everything two children could want, but Sabrina doesn't trust her. Not only does she serve outlandish foods and have an outrageous amount of locks on her house, but she seems to believe their town is full of fairy tale characters, all with mysteries that need solving. (MG, magical realism)

The School for Good and Evil by Soman Chainani (multiple)

Agatha and Sophie are best friends, but they couldn't be more different. Agatha is ugly and unpleasant and Sophie is pretty and kind, so when they're taken to the School for Good and Evil, it seems obvious who's Good and who's Evil. However, when the girl's places are switched, they must put things to rights. (MG/YA, high fantasy)

To Kill a Kingdom by Alexandra Christo (The Little Mermaid)

Lira is a vicious siren, known for her collection of prince's hearts. However, a serious mistake of hers leads the Sea Queen to transform her into a human, trapped until she can bring her the heart of Prince Elian. Lira is a practiced killer, but Elian is a trained hunter, and sirens are his prey of choice. (YA, high fantasy)

The Land of Stories by Chris Colfer (multiple)

Alex and Conner have had it rough since their father's death, but they find comfort in their grandmother's book of stories. When she leaves it to them on their birthday, they never expected for it to be a portal to another world. This world is full of all the fairy tales they know and love, but they're trapped there, and ways back are hard to come by. (MG, low fantasy)

Legendborn by Tracy Deonn (King Arthur)

In an attempt to move on after her mother's death, Bree attends an early college program. However, she starts to see things, things her friends can't, and she soon discovers a secret society on campus made up of the descendants of King Arthur and the Knights of the Roundtable. However, this group, the Legendborn, may be tied to Bree more than she knows. (YA, magical realism)

Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson (Caribbean and Yoruba Mythology)

In a futuristic world modeled off of Afro-Caribbean history and mythology, criminals are sent to the world of New Half-Way Tree. No child has been sent before until Tan-Tan is taken by her father, who is on the run from the law. When Tan-Tan's experience takes a turn for the worse, she finds strength the figure of the Robber Queen from myth. *read trigger warnings* (adult, science fiction/fantasy)

Splintered by A. G. Howard (Alice in Wonderland)

Alyssa is a descendant of the famous Alice Liddel, but it's not all roses and tea parties. Madness runs in the family, and Alyssa has heard bugs and flowers speak to her since she was young. It's only when she's a teenager that she learns it's a curse, and the only way to free her family from it is to return to Wonderland and put the original Alice's mistakes to rights.

Stain by A. G. Howard (very loosely The Princess and the Pea)

Princess Lyra is destined to bring her kingdom, one of perpetual day, and their rival, a kingdom of perpetual night, together. However, when her wicked aunt steals her identity and casts her out, she loses her memories and is taken in by a witch from an enchanted forest. There, she lives in disguise, known as a young boy named Stain. (YA, fantasy romance)

Enchanted by Alethea Kontis (The Frog Prince)

Sunday is the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, a powerfully magic number. Anything Sunday writes comes true, so she takes care to only write what has already happened. She finds someone to share those stories with in a talking frog near her home. Little does she know that the frog is an enchanted prince; specifically, the prince responsible for the death of her older brother.

Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine (Cinderella)

Ella was given a gift at her birth from a fairy, but it's done nothing but make her life miserable. Forced to obey every direct order, Ella loathes her gift of obedience, especially when she is forced to deal with a demanding father and a horrible stepfamily. Ella takes it upon herself to track down the fairy who 'blessed' her with some help from her family's cook, Mandy, and the charming Prince Char. (MG, high fantasy)

Fairest by Gail Carson Levine (Snow White)

Aza is by no means the fairest of them all, but she has the unique gift to imitate others and throw her voice. In the kingdom of Ayortha, which values song above all else, it's an invaluable trait. One the new queen of Ayortha, Queen Ivi, plans to capitalize upon. Ivi lacks singing talent, so she hires Aza to help her deceive the kingdom, but how long can they keep up the charade? (MG, high fantasy)

The Princess Tales by Gail Carson Levine (multiple)

Six stories: The Fairy's Mistake (Diamonds and Toads), The Princess Test (The Princess and the Pea), Princess Sonora and the Long Sleep (Sleeping Beauty), Cinderellis and the Glass Hill (Cinderella), For Biddle's Sake (Rapunzel), and The Fairy's Return (The Golden Goose) (MG, high fantasy)

Ash by Malinda Lo (Cinderella)

Abused by her horrible stepmother, Ash finds solace in stories. Those stories seem to come to life when she encounters a faerie, and her wishes of being stolen away may finally be granted. However, Ash begins to doubt that course when she meets the king's huntress and she finds herself torn between two worlds. (YA, fantasy romance)

Unhooked by Lisa Maxwell (Peter Pan)

Gwendolyn has always thought her mother was crazy for thinking monsters were chasing them, but then she and her best friend are kidnapped. The place they're taken to, Neverland, is full of deception, and Gwen must find out how to get them both home and whole again. (YA, low fantasy)

Cinder by Marissa Meyer (Cinderella)

Cinder is a cyborg in a futuristic world ravaged by sickness and prejudice, but she scrapes by as a mechanic. One day, during a job for no one other than the prince, she discovers information that could tip the balance between the people of earth and the dreaded Lunars. (YA, science fiction)

The Squire's Tales by Gerald Morris (King Arthur)

A series retelling the tales of the Roundtable, beginning with Terence, an orphan who becomes squire to the famous Sir Gawain. Together, they must foil a plot against King Arthur as Terence discovers his own abilities. (MG/YA, historical fantasy)

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (Beauty and the Beast)

Agnieszka is forfeited by her village to the wizard known as the Dragon in exchange for his protection against the horrible Wood. She finds herself more of an apprentice than a servant, but the Wood is stirring, and it's up to her and the Dragon to drive it back. (NA, high fantasy)

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik (Rumpelstiltskin)

Miryam has brought her family's moneylending business back from the brink of bankruptcy. All is going well until an ill-timed boast on the roads lures the attention of the king of the Staryk, fae-like creatures made of winter and obsessed with gold. But there's a bigger threat that threatens to consume humans and Staryk alike. (NA, high fantasy)

Queen of Hearts by Colleen Oakes (Alice in Wonderland)

Dinah has trained her whole life to become queen of Wonderland alongside her father, finally earning his love. However, out of the blue, her father brings home her half-sister, his illegitimate daughter. With conspiracies brewing, Dinah must hold onto her throne now that another candidate has entered the picture. (YA, high fantasy)

The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea by Axie Oh (Shim Cheong)

As their home is ravaged by storms and floods, the people of Mina's village sacrifice a young girl every year, hoping she may be the "true bride" of the sea god. One year, the offered girl is Shim Cheong, Mina's older brother, Joon's, beloved. In an effort to save her, Mina throws herself into the sea to find a fantastical world under the surface. (YA, historical fantasy)

Dorothy Must Die by Danielle Paige (The Wizard of Oz)

Amy is a friendless teenager from modern-day Kansas, so a surprise trip to the land of Oz would seem like a blessing. But this version of Oz is twisted, dark, and ruled by none other than the other girl from Kansas, Dorothy herself. (YA, low fantasy)

The Shadow Queen by C. J. Redwine (Snow White)

Lorelai is the crown princess, but she's also a fugitive. Ever since her kingdom was taken by a wicked queen, she and her brother have been forced to run for their lives. She and the queen share one quality, magic, but if Lorelai ever uses it, she'll be guiding the queen straight to her. (YA, high fantasy)

The Blood Spell by C. J. Redwine (Cinderella)

Blue is an aspiring alchemist, hoping to turn other metals into gold to help the people of her city. However, when her father tragically dies and a cruel woman seizes everything Blue knows, she has to turn to her childhood rival, Prince Kellan. Kellan has his own issues, such as a growing pressure to marry, but the worst is the disappearances that seem to rise in number every day. (YA, high fantasy)

Half Upon a Time by James Riley (multiple)

Jack the 13th is supposed to be a hero, save a princess. He thinks that isn't likely to happen until a 'princess' from our world literally falls into his arms. Soon, Jack realizes that this girl's grandmother can be none other than the famous Snow White, but she's been kidnapped, and it's up to Jack and the 'princess', Meg, to save her. (MG, low fantasy)

The Evil Queen by Gena Showalter (Snow White)

Everly lives the life of a normal teenager until she discovers she's not of this world. In this other land of magic, she's a part of a prophecy, one that mirrors the classic tale of Snow White. That would all be great if she weren't destined to become the story's villain, the Evil Queen. (YA, low fantasy)

Daughter of the Moon Goddess by Sue Lynn Tan (Chang'e)

Xingyin's mother, Chang'e has been imprisoned on the moon for years for stealing the Celestial Emperor's elixir of immortality. When Xingyin's magic flares and she is in danger of being discovered, she must flee the moon. She ends up in the Celestial Kingdom, where she works her way up, hoping to find a way to free her mother. (NA, high fantasy)

Breadcrumbs by Anne Ursu (The Snow Queen)

The Snow Queen made a mirror meant to show people the worst in the world, and when it shatters, a shard gets stuck in the eye of Hazel's best friend Jack. When the Snow Queen whisks him away, Hazel must travel through a treacherous, wintery forest to save him. (MG, low fantasy)

Malice by Heather Walter (Sleeping Beauty)

Alyce is the infamous Dark Grace, whose powers bring curses and misfortune, unlike her sisters, who can conjure gifts and beauty. She dreams of escaping the prejudiced Kingdom of Briar, but her growing powers and an involvement with the royal family could keep her trapped forever. (adult, fantasy romance)

KEY

MG: middle grade, ages 8-12

YA: young adult, ages 13-18

NA: new adult, ages 18-early twenties

adult: ages 18 and up

high fantasy: fantasy stories set entirely within another world

low fantasy: fantasy stories split between our world and another

magical realism: fantasy stories set in our world, often interwoven with aspects of modern life (not the Latin American literary movement!)

historical fantasy: fantasy stories set in a historical setting of our world

fantasy romance: fantasy stories focused on romantic plotlines instead of other forms of plot

[the-oc-lass]

EVERYONE WHO MISSES TECH, PLEASE STAND

Because Dave Filoni really looked at us and said “FUCK YOUR TECH DREAMS!”

Tech did not return and I am screaming.

Anyway, please enjoy Tech and a Baby

Crosshair and a Baby

Wrecker and a Baby

Gregor and a Baby

Echo and a Baby

Full fic below the cut in case you don't want to go to Ao3:

Tech isn’t what you would call a “baby guy.” Babies are illogical and can’t be reasoned with. At least once they reach a certain age, you can start communicating and getting some understanding out of them. Unfortunately for Tech, baby Echo “Ec” Yothia is still just that: a baby. None of this is to say that Tech doesn’t love Ec because, no, no, he does. He just tends to find himself a little…Uncertain when it comes to the child. He prefers to simply observe others interacting with him rather than truly engaging with the child himself. 

So, of course, he would find himself in this situation. Ec’s mother, Rayona, has been working herself incredibly hard for the clone rebellion. As the acting pseudo-General and one of two resident Jedi, she takes what she does very seriously. She’s worked herself so hard, in fact, that Echo, as their resident Rayona-specialist, has taken it upon himself to start enforcing nap times for her. This is fine. Usually, it’s Echo or one of the other Bad Batch squad members that sit or lay with her to make sure she actually rests, some even resorting to lying on top of her. The problem is, Rex has Hunter and Wrecker helping him with a job and Crosshair is preoccupied with Omega. Apparently, Rayona is extra unwilling today, so Echo said it would be best for him to enforce nap time. Which leaves Tech with the baby. 

“Are you absolutely certain that you cannot come and watch over him? I am not equipt for the caretaking of an infant,” he says into his comm. He can hear Crosshair laughing on the other side of the transmission, but it’s Omega who answers. 

“Sorry, Tech. Crosshair and I are busy with Plaa and Ky right now.” Ah, of course. Rayona’s Jedi friend and her padawan/adopted daughter. Crosshair has taken a rather keen interest in them. “Have you asked any of the others?” 

“I have accounted for everyone else in the base. They are all either busy or not currently able to properly watch over Ec. While I am not equipped to care for him, I will not pass Ec off to someone who has more pressing matters to attend to. His safety is prioritized over my own comfort,” Tech says. He adjusts his goggles slightly. “I will attend to him. Thank you for your help, Omega.” 

“Good luck, Tech!” With that cheerful send-off, Omega is gone and Tech is once again alone with his thoughts and the infant. Ec stares up at him with big brown eyes, taking a moment before he smiles and reaches up toward Tech’s face, gurgling. His hand waves toward Tech’s eyes in particular, and Tech quickly deduces that he must be able to see his reflection in Tech’s goggles. He shifts the child away slightly, hoping to avoid getting any small fingerprints on his goggles. After taking a few moments to consider what he could possibly do with the child, he comes up with an idea. 

For the time being, Tech sets up Ec’s feeding chair near his workstation and places Ec in it. This will allow him to monitor the child but will prevent Ec from possibly grabbing something he shouldn’t. With Ec out of his lap for the moment, Tech is able to work on his latest project. It is, however, a project for Ec. A common problem is that Ec constantly needs to be held since there aren’t many good places to put him down. Tech has been working on a solution for that. Simply put, a hovering pram for Ec to rest in. It would make it easier to transport him around while still having one’s arms free. Tech decided to fit it with an energy shield, should the day ever come when they need to move the baby through an active battlefield. He also asked about mounting small automatic turrets to shoot anyone not in a specific scan-related database, but Rayona had very quickly nixed that idea. Despite his well-cited argument about the turrets keeping Ec safe, she’d argued that it was “too dangerous” for the rest of them. A rather preposterous concern, if you ask Tech, but he went along with Rayona’s wishes. She is Ec’s mother and Tech respects her too much to go against her will. It’s easy for him to focus all his attention on the project in front of him…At first. After approximately three minutes and thirty-six seconds, Ec begins to babble. Tech ignores him at first. He can’t expect the infant to be quiet, after all. They’re only quiet when they sleep. However, it quickly becomes clear that Ec is seeking attention and Tech looks over at him. 

“Yes?” he prompts, though he knows Ec won’t respond. Ec giggles and smiles at him, and Tech adjusts his goggles as he considers what to do. Ec seemed pleased that Tech spoke to him, which makes sense considering that infants recognize the sounds of speech. After Rayona had Ec, Tech also read that speaking to infants helps their cognitive development, meaning they’re able to acquire speech and language skills sooner. Perhaps he could help move that process along. Yes, that solution will do nicely. Tech pulls the feeding chair a little closer to his side, turning it slightly so that Ec can watch him work. “Now, Ec, while I understand that you do not currently have the capacity to understand me, I assure you that listening to me will help with your mental development. Now, as you can see, I’m currently wiring together the necessary controls to activate and deactivate the energy shield over the body of the pram. Once that is complete I will finish calibrating the repulsorlift and set it to the inner shell, which will allow your pram to hover, therefore making you easier to transport. I should also incorporate a sensor so that the pram can be summoned from a distance, and the sensor can be synced to your mother and-” 

“Why are you sayin’ all that to him?” Tech lifts his head from his work, turning to look over his shoulder. Ah, it seems that Wrecker and Hunter have returned. Tech adjusts his goggles again. 

“I had read that speaking to an infant helps with their mental development, especially when it pertains to speech skills,” he says. Wrecker blinks, clearly confused, and Tech sighs. “If I continue to talk to Ec, it is likely that he will learn to talk more quickly.” Now Wrecker’s eyes widen with understanding. 

“Oh. I get it. But why all that…Smart stuff? Doesn’t he want to hear about baby stuff?” he asks. Tech glances at Ec, who he finds looking back at him. When Tech’s eyes land on him, Ec smiles and babbles slightly. Tech smiles slightly in satisfaction before looking back at Wrecker.

“I believe my ‘smart stuff’ is plenty entertaining for Ec. Perhaps he will retain some of it and someday have an intellect matching my own,” he says, perhaps just a little proudly. Hunter appears at Wrecker’s side, helmet held against his hip. 

“Does that mean you don’t want us to take him? Omega mentioned that you weren’t sure what to do with him,” he says. Tech once again looks down at Ec, who is still smiling at him. 

“No. He may remain with me,” he says after a moment. Hunter shrugs, then gestures to Wrecker with his head. The two leave and Tech turns back to his project, though not without briefly brushing some of Ec’s hair back. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes. I should consider making some sort of gauntlet or chip to ensure that your pram can be summoned to…”

[whumpyourdamnpears]

Fruit of the Wicked: Chapter Seven

CW: lady whump, male whumper/female whumpee, POC whump (whumpee is a Black woman), age gap whump (whumper is an older man), religious whump, police being incompetent

Thank you to Marz and Gen for being the best beta readers <3

Word Count: 1,505 Previous Next

He should probably apologize.

That was the thought running through Maxwell Akito’s head as he took care of business at his family’s corner store.

It’d been days since the two of them had last spoken. Max had done his best to give her her space and let her come to him if that’s what she wanted, but days of no contact had gone by. It had been like she’d dropped off the face of the planet.

He’d have to just suck it up and apologize. He wasn’t opposed to that, especially if that’s what stood in the middle of their friendship. Max didn’t want to lose her over something like this.

So, there he was. Sitting in a booth at Dave’s Diner with his heart in his hands, ready to apologize.

Christina was the one to come over to his booth, a funny look on her face. “Hey! It’s been a while since you’ve shown your face around here!” She was smiling, but she seemed nervous, wiping her hands down the front of her apron. “What would you like to drink?”

“I—uh, water’s fine.” Max distractedly glanced around the diner to see if he could make out Dani’s face amongst any of the other waitresses. He didn’t find it. “Hey, do you know if Dani’s working today? I really need to talk to her.”

Christina’s face dropped. “Oh, did no one tell you?” Pushing a loose strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her pierced ear, she said, “Dani left. She put in her notice a few days ago.”

The words washed over him like ice cold water. “She, what?”

“Yeah, she texted us and the managers saying she wasn’t coming back. No one has seen her since.”

Max sat there for a minute, saying nothing at all. She’d done it. She really left. After all that talk of finally thinking of staying, and she’d just up and left the second it got hard?

Was this his fault?

“Hey, did something… happen between you two?” Christina asked him quietly.

That snapped him out of it. “It doesn’t matter.” Max said, clearing his throat. Folding his hands together, he asked, “Can you think of any reason she’d want to leave?”

“You know, that’s what I found weird.” Christina took the opportunity to slide across from him in the booth. “She seemed like everything was fine when she was leaving on Sunday, then Monday morning she sends this weird text that she’s not coming back.”

“Weird text?”

“Yeah, it just—do you wanna read it?” Christina produced a touch screen phone from her apron pocket, pressing a few buttons, and held it out to Max.

“…Sure.” Tentatively, he took the phone out of Christina’s hand, fingers brushing against hers. Looking down at the cracked screen, Max read out the words in the green text bubble to himself. Sorry. I had to go. Tell the boss I won’t be in tomorrow. The message was… stiff. Max read over it again, perplexed. It didn’t sound like Dani; he couldn’t imagine her not using her boss’s name, especially when it was the name of the damn restaurant itself.

“She didn’t even have a shift on Monday, she’d taken the day off.”

He looked up from the phone. “She didn’t?” That didn’t sound like her, either. Dani didn’t forget her shifts.

Christina pulled at her hair, staring at the phone in Max’s hands. “It’s just… so weird. It almost doesn’t even sound like her.”

“Do you think that it’s not her?”

“I don’t know! It—it probably is her, though, right? Like, who would be texting from her phone?” She looked over her shoulder to the rest of the diner. “I don’t know, it’s just…weird that she left without so much as a goodbye.”

Max knew Dani better than that. She was notorious for leaving without saying goodbye, in her own words. But, that text…

That text didn’t come from her.

————

Max couldn’t remember a time where he’d ever needed to be at the police station. He was sure there had been a time, his family’s store was a fairly big target for shoplifting, but he couldn’t remember it. Thankfully, that business was usually taken care of by his father.

He sat in Pointersfield Police Department’s lobby, which just so happened to not have received a single update since the seventies. Max leaned against the wood paneling adorning the walls as he waited, tapping his foot against the faded blue carpet that covered the entire waiting area. When an officer finally came out to greet him, he didn’t say much, just followed him into the small room they fashioned into an interrogation room and sat down in one of the folding chairs left at the table in the center of the room. The officer was an older gentleman, with a balding crown and a soft middle. Max knew him as Officer Prescott, who had been an officer as long as he had been alive. The officer sat across from him at the table, smiling curtly.

“So, Charlene tells me you’re in to file a missing person’s report?” Officer Prescott asked, looking down at the manila folder he’d brought into the room with him. Max nodded. Bringing his glasses up to his face, Officer Prescott flipped through the folder, which only had the form Max had filled out in the lobby inside. “So, this… Sheridan Wallis. Is she a friend of yours?”

The image of the two of them pressed up against each other, lips interlocked and hands wandering flashed through Max’s mind. “Yeah, she’s a friend.”

“And when was the last time you saw Miss Wallis?”

“Last week.”

“Last week? Seems like an awful long time to not see someone in this town, especially a friend.”

“We…didn’t end on the best of terms.”

“No?”

“No.” Max didn’t feel like elaborating on their fight to a stranger unless absolutely necessary. It didn’t exactly make either of them look good. Thankfully, Officer Prescott didn’t press, instead pursing his lips together as he looked back down at the form.

“Do you know of anyone who’d have any intention to harm Miss Wallis, Mr. Akito?”

“Not personally, no.” They were all standard questions, but the way Officer Prescott asked them had Max bristling in his chair. It sounded apathetic, like it was just routine for him to ask these questions, like he didn’t actually care what the answers might be.

Officer Prescott sat back in his seat, sighing. “Mr. Akito, let me level with you.” He took off his glasses and wiped them off on the bottom of his uniformed shirt. “There’s not a whole lot I can do for you here.”

Max sat in stunned silence. “What?”

“For one, we don’t actually have confirmation that Miss Wallis didn’t just leave town on her own terms, or whether she actually left in the first place. This is all speculation on your part.”

“I’m not the only one who thinks something is wrong, sir. A co-worker of hers also believes that she’s been gone for days due to strange circumstances.”**

“Then why isn’t this co-worker here with you to make a statement?”

Max said nothing.

“Mr. Akito, I understand you’re upset about your friend, what’s it called, ghosting you? But, unless you can get proof that something happened or get a family member to come around and fill out a missing person’s report, there’s not much I can do for you here, I’m sorry.”

“So, that’s it? You’re just going to do nothing?” Max tried to hide the way his hands started to shake. “What if something happened to her? What if she had slipped and fell in her apartment, or gotten into an accident? You’d just do nothing to help?”

“If it makes you feel any better, we can do a wellness check, but the fact that you yourself stated that she sent a text indicating that she wasn’t going to stick around doesn’t lead me to believe that one will be necessary.” Officer Prescott stood up from his chair, groaning. “Do me a favor, Max, and just go home. Get this girl out of your head. The last thing you need to be worried about is some runaway.”

Some runaway.

Max shook his head in disbelief. “Sure, I—thank you for meeting with me, officer.”

The officer walked over and clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Go home. And, while you’re at it, put in an order of that chili for me, yeah? You know the one.”

The officer walked Max back out to the station lobby, where Max stood for a minute, staring at the faded blue carpet. Unbelievable. All of it—he understood that not everyone in town necessarily liked Dani, but wasn’t she still important enough to look out for in their town? Wasn’t everyone? And she’d just disappeared—why was he being treated like he was crazy for caring?

He knew why.

Whatever. He’d just have to find out what happened to Dani on his own, then.

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @generic-whumperz, @deluxewhump, @another-whump-sideblog, @pigeonwhumps, @lektricwhump, @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees, @sowhumpshaped

[soudakuwunmoment]

I've been thinking about him lately. Realizing his character is a lot more straight forward than I thought, and that when it comes down to it, he's honestly one of the characters i relate most to. There have been characters before him in Homestuck who dealt with self-hate, mostly Karkat and Sollux. and I'm not saying it was represented badly with them, but what I am saying is that Dirk represents it goddamn PERFECTLY.

His relationship with Hal is the most obvious example of this. It is made known that their feelings towards one another aren't friendly, purely because they HATE the feeling of having themselves reflected back at them. And yet, they never really express those feelings to anyone but each other. When they talk about it, it's a vicious cycle of trying to express their feelings then immediately being mocked for it under the guise of some fucked up form of "irony". The only chances he gets to express these feelings, it's thrown directly back in his face, challenged, mocked. There's no one to give him a healthy response, there's only HIMSELF, to say "I hate you just as much as you hate me."

Another example of this which is well known is Dave's Bro. When Dave reveals what Bro is like to Dirk, he's mortified because he realizes that he can see exactly how he would end up that way if left unchecked. And sure, Dirk is far better off than Bro was, having the other alpha kids and eventually the beta kids as well. He himself keeps himself in check by being so weighed down by his possible future self and all of his splinters. But realistically, is that enough? He never fully expresses how he feels about himself to his friends. He never talks about his issues because he feels that they can see his issues just as clearly as he can, and he doesn't want to become worse by burdening them with a conversation about it. Dirk as he is in canon doesn't TALK to anyone about his issues. How are people supposed to keep him in check if they don't know what's going on in his head? We see with Ult Dirk how easily someone that unstable can lose themselves in fear and confusion and hate.

But I think Dirk's relationships with his splinters aren't needed to see how little he cares for himself. Like, how many times does he decapitate himself again? It's not that he hates his life so much that he would rather be dead. It's more so that he sees his life as a playing piece in the game of SBURB. He takes his own life, not out of wanting to die necessarily, but out of recklessness. If his death can make a situation go as smooth as possible, it's his automatic play.

This means that one of the only two reasons he has ever taken his life was for the sake of making things easier for his friends. Why? Because they're why he sticks around. I mean really, we established how miserable he is. He sure as hell doesn't live for himself, and he sure as hell DOES live for his friends. He makes that clear every time he sacrifices himself.

What was the other of those two reasons again? Oh right. It was because he had no reason to live if he didn't have his friends.

And so i find myself thinking, "If he cares about his friends so much, wouldn't he want to keep them happy by staying around as much as possible, and, well, NOT dying?"

But that's the thing. He doesn't see it that way. He has expressed that he believes his friends only see him as a problem, and that they think of him as "toxic" despite no one thinking that about him.

If his friends don't think he's toxic, why does he think he is?

Think about who he opens himself up to.

One, Hal. Hal, who does absolutely nothing to make Dirk think he's anything but the lowest scum.

Two, Jake. Jake loves Dirk but he is AWFUL at expressing it. Dirk is a teenager, and he is in LOVE with Jake. Jake's opinion matters more than anyone, but Jake either gives him nothing or complains about his downfalls. In fact, when Jake DOES say good things about Dirk, it's almost NEVER to his face.

From Dirk's perspective, his friends are at best avoidant of him, and at worst hate him. It reminded me of my childhood, and how I only ever had people to tell me what was wrong with me. Believe me when I say that seriously fucks a person up.

So, in my Ideal Homestuck™ Dirk finds someone he can be open with and a safe environment where he has an eye kept on him by people who love him. Somewhere where he can be told when he does something good, and not be punished or scorned when he does something wrong, instead simply being guided by someone who understands he never got to be taught these things by a stable guardian.

[haywire-hetfield]

HAII, do you take fic req?? if you do, could you please write dave x kirk having rough sex with kirk top.. LIKE, KSKSKSKSHSKSJ YOU KNOWW?? dave bottom and kirk top is just GAHHDBDK (it can be hatesex too🤭)

Sure thing!

Warnings: Drunk sex, top Kirk, bottom Dave, rough sex, rimming, dirty talk, degradation, painful sex, spanking, barebacking, creampie, coming untouched, multiple orgasms

Words: 3,240

Dave rolled his eyes as yet another cocktail was sat down in front of him. He didn’t have to look over to know who had sent him the drink. Kirk fucking Hammett of all people had sent him four drinks now, all of them a pale pink with a lime slice on the rim of the glass. The first couple times he’d looked down the bar, he’d found the other man smiling at him with a mouthful of crooked teeth. 

Kirk had grown into himself a bit more since the last time Dave had seen him. His hair had grown out a bit more and looked better taken care of, curls looking shinier and healthier. Dave tried not to think about how handsome Kirk looked these days. 

Dave distracted himself by sipping at the sweet, slightly sour drink and tried to ignore how lightheaded he was. He’d had a lot to drink already and it seemed Kirk thought so too. A moment after he’d started drinking the cocktail he’d been presented with, Kirk was approaching him. It seemed he was taking a more direct approach now, growing tired of Dave sitting there and doing his best to pretend he didn’t see him. 

“You look really beautiful tonight,” Kirk told him once he was close enough to be heard. He was still grinning and Dave just stared back at him. He wasn’t sure why Kirk was talking to him, why he was sending him drinks. Well. He had a few ideas. “I have a room a few blocks from here,” Kirk pointed out and there it was, all the confirmation Dave needed to know exactly what this was. 

“Good for you,” Dave replied and Kirk looked rather dejected. He didn’t want to be an easy date, he wasn’t some wide-eyed groupie who would fall over themselves just for a chance to sleep with Kirk. Still, it had been a while since he’d slept with someone and Kirk was attractive enough. The drinks in Dave’s system helped him lean towards that bad decision. “Lead the way,” He told him, doing his best to not sound too excited about it. Kirk beamed like he’d been proposed to, though, and it rubbed Dave the wrong way. 

On the way to his hotel, Kirk had offered his hand to Dave to hold which Dave had simply ignored. He didn’t want sweet or gentle with Kirk and he was going to make sure Kirk knew that. He didn’t need Kirk getting the wrong idea about what they were. They were just two people going back to a hotel to have meaningless sex to relieve some tension, nothing more than that. 

Kirk had looked hurt when Dave shot him down, although he seemed to recover from it quickly. He’d methodically replaced that look of hurt with a smile and continued rambling to Dave about how it was so lucky that they’d run into each other tonight. He’d grinned even brighter when Dave stumbled, having to reach out to grab Kirk’s arm for stability. 

“I’ve got you,” Kirk cooed at him, hooking one arm around Dave’s waist to keep him steady. He wanted to protest and push Kirk away, but he decided against it. There was a very real chance he might not make it up to the hotel room if he didn’t accept a little help. 

That certainly wasn’t a headline he wanted to see. Megadeth’s Dave Mustaine Found Face-Down On Street With Metallica’s Kirk Hammett. 

The rest of the walk was made easier by holding onto Kirk. The other man opened the hotel door for him and helped him into the elevator, and it seemed like they waited for hours for the elevator to open for them. And the ride up left Dave feeling a bit nauseous, but he held it together.

“This one’s ours,” Kirk told him once they finally reached a door at the end of a long hallway. Kirk fumbled with his key for a moment, but eventually opened the door for Dave and let him step inside first. The door had barely shut behind them before Kirk was pressing into Dave’s personal space, turning him around to face him. His back collided with the wall, letting out a solid thud as Kirk kissed him. 

The kiss didn’t start carefully, not at all how Dave had expected. Kirk’s tongue slipped past his lips almost as soon as they’d met and Dave decided to let him. His hands found Kirk’s face, jagged fingernails digging into his skin painfully and relishing in the hiss Kirk let out against him at the feeling. Kirk pressed him harder into the wall, letting his teeth sink into his lower lip. 

“Fuck,” Dave groaned when he pushed Kirk’s face away from his own. He softened the grip his nails had on Kirk, admiring the small idents he’d left on his skin. He wondered how Kirk would look with those marks bleeding instead. “I want you to fuck me like you hate me, can you do that?” He asked. 

“I can,” Kirk assured him with a quick nod, pressing his hips into Dave’s. Like this, Dave could feel how hard he was. “You know the stoplight system, right?” It was Dave’s turn to nod now. “Good. Use it. I’m not going to stop unless you do,” Dave had a feeling he wasn’t going to regret going back home with Kirk tonight, maybe this had been a better idea than he’d originally thought. 

****

Dave had found himself face-down on the shitty hotel mattress, his clothes tossed haphazardly around the floor. His head was still spinning, although it was eased by lying down. Two pillows rested beneath his hips, keeping his body perched up the way Kirk had wanted him. He felt exposed and vulnerable like this, in a way he never would allow himself to be if he were sober.

“You’re doing a good job,” Kirk told him and he could hear the smile in his voice. He chose to ignore it, instead focusing on Kirk’s warm hand as it rubbed down his lower back. It was nice, something he could get used to

Both of Kirk’s hands slipped down to spread him open. If he’d felt exposed before, that was amplified now. He’d never experienced anything quite like it, but he stayed quiet. He figured Kirk was just going to finger him, that was the natural progression of things. Dave’s body tensed when something warm and wet stroked over his hole suddenly. It caught him off guard and made him release a confused sound, squirming away from the feeling.

“Stay still,” Kirk chastised and slapped his ass roughly. “You know your word if you want to stop,” He reminded him.

It was true, Dave did know how to make things stop if he was uncomfortable. Kirk was sweet too, he knew it wouldn’t be a problem if he wanted to stop. For a moment, Kirk waited as if to give Dave time to tell him to stop. When he realized Dave wasn’t going to, he dipped back down to resume what he was doing and Dave tried to stay more still this time around. It was easier now that he was expecting it.

The feeling was new for him. Most of the time, he slept with women who never even touched his ass, let alone done this to him. Whenever he slept with guys, he tended to top and even if he didn’t, no guy had ever eaten him out. Hell, some hadn’t even fingered him.

It was a strange sensation to try and get used to, the wet warmth and gentle stroking motions foreign to him. He supposed it was kind of nice, though. His body relaxed the more that Kirk licked him open, starting with slow and long licks upwards before switching to circling his hole.

“Fuck. That feels weird,” Dave breathed out and Kirk chuckled against him, making him moan quietly. The vibrations there were a whole new level of weird. Dave’s breathing hitched in his throat when he felt Kirk’s tongue stiffen up, pressing against him until it pushed inside. It wiggled around a bit and Dave buried a moan against the blankets beneath his face. 

He couldn’t explain why it felt so good, but it did. It was sensitive and dirty, and he felt wrong for liking it. Wrong for letting Kirk do this to him. Still, his own fingers curled into the blankets when two of Kirk’s slick fingers pressed into him alongside his tongue. It was overwhelming and Dave didn’t even know how he was managing to multitask in that way. It was too much, though. 

“Fuck me,” Dave told him, pulling his face away from the bed enough so his words could be easily understood. Kirk moved his head away from him, though his fingers continued opening him up. 

“I can’t fuck you yet,” Kirk’s voice was breathless, but gentle behind him. Concern seemed to be seeping into his tone. “I’ll hurt you. I need to stretch you,” His fingers crooked and rubbed against Dave’s prostate, distracting him for a moment before he kept pushing it. 

“Fuck me, Hammett. Or I’ll go find someone else who will,” Dave snapped back at him, shoving his hips into Kirk’s hand. This earned another rough slap against his ass, harder than the first one had been. It made Dave curse and squirm, his skin stinging. He was sensitive and knew there would likely be a red mark where Kirk’s fingers had been. Kirk pulled both hands away from Dave and began lubing himself up. 

“Stupid slut,” He muttered out, stroking his cock. “When this hurts, you better not complain. You wanted this,” He reminded him and Dave rolled his eyes. “Get on your back,” Kirk encouraged as he pulled the pillows out from beneath Dave’s hips and tossed them to the ground. 

“Hurry up,” Dave goaded, climbing into the position Kirk had told him to. He wanted Kirk to snap and fuck him the way he really wanted it, the way he really needed it. Kirk wasn’t gentle as he settled in between Dave’s thighs, shoving his legs up enough. 

“Bossy fucking whore,” Kirk’s words were tense and they irritated Dave. “This is where you belong, you know? Under somebody else and being quiet for once,” Something inside of Dave snapped and he shoved roughly at Kirk’s chest before the other had the chance to get inside him. Dave moved quickly, although a bit uncoordinated due to the alcohol, trying to switch their positions. 

If Kirk wanted to act that way, he wasn’t going to let him fuck him on his back. He wanted to ride him instead, assert that bit of dominance over Kirk. Kirk was unprepared to be shoved like that, losing his balance. He was surprisingly strong as he wrestled Dave around on the bed. Dave was worried for a minute that Kirk might actually overpower him, but then, there was suddenly nothing beneath his body. 

Neither could catch up with what was happening quickly enough as they toppled over the edge of the bed. Dave landed first, ending up on his back on the carpeted floor. Kirk hit him not even a second later, both of them letting out matching pained noises as they collided with the floor and each other. 

Kirk didn’t seem to be too dissuaded by this, recovering for a moment before shoving Dave’s legs apart and beginning to push inside of him. Dave groaned at the feeling and let his hands travel up to grab at Kirk’s shoulders. He didn’t try to fight him this time, feeling like Kirk had won this. They’d fought for the position and Kirk had come out on top, it felt less like just giving it up to Kirk now. 

He couldn’t get a full breath in now either. The fall had knocked the wind out of him and Kirk didn’t bother pausing to let Dave adjust, he’d just begun moving. Each thrust got sharper than the last, leaving Dave breathless. It was exactly what he’d wanted all along, though. 

“Being so good for me now, aren’t you?” Kirk laughed as Dave’s head tipped back against the floor, a quiet moan leaving his throat. His body was thrumming with pleasure, feeling as though each individual nerve was alive and throbbing in his skin. “Knew you just needed someone to put you in your place,” Dave’s nails dug into Kirk’s shoulders at the words, wanting to retaliate and being unable to with his words. 

No words seemed to be able to form. He wasn’t sure if his brain was short-circuiting and couldn’t come up with any or if his body just couldn’t physically voice them. He’d always struggled to speak when he was being made to feel good and this was no exception. He was certain sex had never felt this good before and maybe it’d never feel this good again, the thought of Kirk ruining him for anyone else made him whine pleasantly. 

“Keep scratching, baby. We both know you don’t actually want me to stop,” Kirk said, smiling down at him now. Dave had no idea how he was managing to continue talking, especially so coherently. His words were becoming a bit strained as he continued fucking Dave, though. One of Dave’s hands slid into Kirk’s hair, tugging mercilessly at the curls. “I know you love being treated like the worthless little cocksleeve you are,” Kirk told him, hissing quietly at the hand in his hair yanking close to the scalp. 

Kirk shoved Dave’s legs closer to his chest, giving himself better access. The pace was even more rough now and Dave knew he’d have carpet burns all over his back once Kirk was done with him. He didn’t mind it, though. It made it hotter if he was being honest with himself, knowing there would be a reminder of what they did. 

“Fuck,” Kirk cursed suddenly and buried himself all the way inside, filling Dave up. It took him a moment to register the warmth filling him, head foggy from the alcohol and everything happening around him. The fact he was given no warning meant it took him by surprise too. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” Dave asked once he finally found his voice, although it shook as he spoke. Not quite as bitchy as he’d intended it to be. 

“Don’t worry, baby. We’re not done yet,” Kirk just laughed at him and Dave didn’t even have a moment to catch up to what was happening before Kirk pulled out of him suddenly. He felt himself growing dizzier as his body was maneuvered around harshly, being forced onto his hands and knees. “You’re getting so pliant for me,” Kirk murmured and Dave barely caught onto the words. 

He was trembling slightly as he held himself up, trying to reorient himself. Teeth scraped over his back, close to the shoulder and directly over where a raw spot was forming from being forced against the carpet so much. 

“That’s right, baby. Scream for me,” Kirk encouraged him and Dave hadn’t even realized he’d screamed from the sensation until Kirk pointed it out. He was almost certain a neighbor would call the cops on them, thinking he was getting murdered in Kirk’s bedroom. By now, it felt like he was getting murdered. Kirk pressed against Dave and he could feel that the dark haired man was hard once again. 

Dave’s hands scrambled at his thighs, nails scratching along Kirk’s skin and trying to push him off. A bit of his fight had found him, but it was quickly remedied. Kirk grabbed both of Dave’s hands, jerking them away from his body and forcing him off balance. Dave groaned as he fell forward roughly against the carpeted floor and he knew he’d be sore all over by tomorrow. 

One of Kirk’s hands held both of Dave’s wrists, keeping his arms pinned uncomfortably behind his back. He felt so defenseless in that moment, feeling as though he couldn’t get away from Kirk even if he wanted to. His cock throbbed painfully between his legs, he was so close to coming and he hadn’t been touched. 

“Lift your head,” Kirk said behind Dave and the redhead complied, weakly lifting his head and lowering it back down after Kirk had pressed a pillow beneath it. Dave figured he’d be grateful for it, it’d help avoid any friction burns against his face. Those were too obvious and too painful if he was being honest. “Good boy. I’m going to fucking ruin you,” Kirk told him and Dave wanted to laugh. He already was doing that. 

Kirk pressed back inside of him, stretching his sore hole again. There was no pause between him shoving inside and beginning to move, not going easy on the older man. Dave sobbed with every other thrust, losing track of the time. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed, feeling as though it had been hours. It was everything he had been looking for and somehow even more. 

Kirk was saying something behind him, but he couldn’t make out any of the words. He figured they didn’t matter too much, Kirk was probably dirty talking him some more. Dave barely registered when he finally came, totally untouched and throbbing painfully between his legs. That was the last thing he remembered that night. 

****

Dave’s head was pounding when he woke up the next morning. The curtains were luckily drawn so not a ton of light came in through the window, but the hallway light was on and the bedroom door was open so he could see. His body felt like he’d been run over the night before, burning when he moved. For a few long minutes, he just laid there and gave himself some time to wake up. 

He noted that he was in the bed rather than on the floor and he couldn’t remember if he’d moved there himself or if Kirk had moved him. It took him a minute to realize that bandages had been placed over his back, presumably where he’d suffered the worst of the rug burns. They still hurt, but they were protected at the very least. He knew Kirk must have put them there, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to reach. 

His eyes adjusted to the room and he looked at the bedside table, finding an unopened bottle of water and a box of large bandages sitting there. Kirk was nowhere to be found in the room, but there was a note attached to the box of bandages. Dave inched closer, each movement painful, and tried his best to read the neat handwriting. 

Dave,  Sorry I had to leave early. The water bottle and bandages are for you. There’s breakfast in the fridge, please help yourself to anything you want. I should be back by four. -Kirk :)

Dave checked the clock, reading that it was about half an hour until four. He climbed out of bed, wincing at the sore feeling that seemed to plague every part of his body. It hurt to pull his clothes on and his head was beginning to ache from the alcohol the previous night. He grabbed the water bottle off of the table, but left the box of bandages and the note where it was. It was only about ten minutes until four when Dave walked out of the hotel room.

[canonically47]

evil version of that previous anon: and what were your LEAST favorite parts of each of those seasons?

sorry i got to this so late! buuut

total drama

season 1: leshawna's elimination. just... utter bullshit. closely followed by geoff's. also utter bullshit. in fact heather's whole plot armor was meh

season 2: sorry guys but courtney's entire arc. i can't stand her in TDA. she's meh to okay at best in TDI and fine until the gwuncan stuff in TDWT, after that i just can't even. she's so annoying sorry <//3

season 3: EZEKIEL'S MUTANT ARC COME ONNN MY MAN DESERVES BETTER LET HIM BE HAPPY FUCK YOU

season 4: the all-men finale. we should've gotten a zoey vs cameron finale. boo

season 5: the fact that it exists. i have so many problems with it, it's hard to narrow it down to just one single part i hated most, but there is one! i hated how every character was dumbed down. heather just telling alejandro she had the idol. alejandro just telling mal he had proof he was evil. many eliminations. the fact that the final five was... well, that. but most, i hated mal's arc and how mike was 'cured' of DID by pressing a button. i won't speak much on it since it's nowhere near my expertise nor business as a singlet but i would imagine that is. not how it fucking works. at all and just such a sad sterotyped thing to add an eViL alter to the poor guy just to give him more substance. plus i've discussed this with a mutual before but mal just feels like max taken seriously by the narrative. yeah i hate this season there's a reason it gets trampled in my fic

season 6: there was so much potential for max to be a hero and stand up to scarlett. like. so much. i love him he deserved better. that's not the worst tho and if you're new here let me tell you I FUCKING HATE DAVE. OKAY. i have a BIG issue with that guy which is half because he reminds me of some asshole i know irl and half because he just fucking sucks. i don't get any dave ship, any dave love, anything at all. there is nothing to like about him. he is genuinely one of the very few total drama characters that i can't even make up the substance he lacks. just. fuck dave

season 7 (RR): the daters and best friends fell so flat for me in different ways. the daters were just so annoying and i couldn't have been happier at their elimination. the best friends just felt so forced to me. i mean i'm also a romance-repulsed(-ish, not always, it's complicated) aromantic but oh my goddd... they dragged on for sooo loooongggggggg

season 8: the jurasic fart episode. also how chase treated emma. again fuck these allos /j

season 9: PRILEB. OKAY LISTEN. i fucking LOVE prileb BUT i also fucking HATEEE them. they could've been so good if priya was just eliminated earlier. caleb could've had more to him than priya's misunderstood boyfriend, he could've made alliances and friends, but noooo just give him an entire miscommunication arc FUCK YOU yeah prileb could've been so good if it was good (total drama catchphrase)

disventure camp

season 1: fiore's betrayal to alec felt like terrible writing to me and i'll still stand by that. a character like fiore needs more than one side and alec was that other, softer, caring side. and they threw it all away for shock value! <//3 i really hope these two make up :( i miss them so much. oh also the downfall of tomjake like what the fuck happened oh my

season 2: some challenges were... creepy and weird to say the least. spin the wheel to see who to kiss? my aro ass could never. and when kristal indirectly outed aiden during the dares challenge? like, this yo host? trevor would never <3

season 3: whatever the fuck riya and connor, as well as tom and jake, as well as ally and hunter, as well as- FUCK IT WHATEVER THE FUCK THE COUPLES HAVE GOING ON. YES ALL OF THEM EXcept gabellie. keep going my loves you're doing great

[danexist]

Ok, I have seen too much of the Dave Grohl/Taylor Swift drama and too many bad responses from both sides.

This does not involve the artists themselves. Dave made a joke at the London gig, and a group of Swifties have taken that joke he made, which was more of a dig at himself, and they have started attacking people.

Swifties, Foo fans, you do not need to engage the other side. This drama has gone on too long, and the artists involved could not give less of a fuck. Look at Dave, Dave has lost his best friend and bandmate, twice, he's lost his mum, he's suffered so much through his career. Dave respects other musicians, he's a respectful guy, but after an artist's fanbase has threatened his own damn daughter, it gets personal. But overall, Dave Grohl is a strong and wise man and he will get through it. You do not need to be rushing to a Twitter thread to attack a bunch of 14 year old girls, because what Dave has proven time and time again, is that he can look after himself.

Ok, now let's look at the other side of the debate, Swifties! Now, just to get one thing clear, is that I am not talking to all Swifties. I am talking about the ones who have said stuff like 'Kurt should have taken Dave with him' or threatening his fucking family. You guys do not need to be doing this. Taylor, like I said, does not give two fucks about this whole thing. She is a musician, and she's used to criticism. Also please, for the love of God, do not say Dave is being 'sexist'. This man was probably one of the most pro-feminism artists of the 90s, he supported all kinds of causes! But Taylor doesn't really care, she has come out and stated that she does have a live band who plays with her, which is fair, if someone faced incorrect information being spread, of course they're going to set it right. However you, reader, do not need to get personally involved. Taylor can set the record straight herself. She does not need to have a freaking legion of fans to her defense, because she can also look after herself. Now, let's look at Taylor's side. Taylor is a female pop star who emerged in the 2000s. She's had to face a lot of sexism, a lot of criticism and a lot of hate for what she's done. She is also strong, she has proven this, yet again. She had to face actual sexism in her workplace, not other musicians making jokes, and she knows how to set the record straight.

The more we carry this on, the more drama and divide we start. So you, reader, need to be just a tiny tiny change in the conflict. What you do could change people's hearts if you just lay down your arguments and make peace. This has gone on long enough and we need to try as hard as we can to make peace with the other side, Swifties and Foo fans alike. We do not need to keep arguing with each other over something our respective artists do not care about. So just leave it. Don't engage and if you already have, disengage.

[sequinsmile-x]

can you please write something where it's their wedding day, and at the reception they reveal to everyone Emily is pregnant <3

BESTIE I LOVE THIS IDEA!! <3

I really hope you like what I did with this!

-x-

Ardent

It's their wedding day and no one knows Emily is pregnant, and she intends it to stay that way.

The only problem is Aaron has been drinking her drinks as well as his to keep up appearances, and he can't keep his hands off of her.

-x-

Warnings: pregnancy, alcohol consumption

Words: 3.4k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily takes a step back from the mirror to look herself up and down, carefully eyeing her outfit, checking for creases and marks she knew weren’t there. The suit was pristine, the matching white satin jacket and pants complementing her skin tone, the soft material creating a subtle drape where she needed it to mixed with the sharp tailoring perfectly. She had a flowing cami on under the jacket, also satin, that was tucked into the waist of the pants. 

She’d insisted on getting married in a suit. She’d tried several dresses and whilst they had all been beautiful, none of them had felt right. She hadn’t had the moment looking at herself in the mirror in the bridal stores that she’d seen JJ have, or seen strangers have on reality TV shows when she couldn’t sleep. It was the personal shopper in the last store they went to who suggested a suit, something that Emily thinks would have been the woman’s last action on earth if Elizabeth’s looks could truly kill, but she’d tried it - realising there was nothing to lose by doing so. The moment she saw herself in the mirror she knew she’d found what she’d marry Aaron in, the outfit perfect for her, the perfect outfit for the small intimate wedding they were planning to have in Dave’s backyard. 

And, it had the added bonus her mother disapproved entirely. 

Emily smiles as she tugs at the bottom of her jacket, turning sideways to ensure it was lying flat, not revealing the secret that lay beneath. She rests her hand on her small bump, her thumb rubbing back and forth just below her belly button. 

Irritating her mother wasn’t the only reason she’d chosen a suit. 

No one other than Aaron, and her doctor, knew Emily was pregnant. 

They’d been trying for over a year, months of tears and negative tests grating on her nerves long before they set the date for the wedding. Her hope faded as time went on, and her period slowly started to feel like her own body mocking her. She got to the point where she went to her doctor, sure that something was wrong, that Ian had stolen the future she wanted from her after all, but after more tests than she cared to count everything came back clear for her and for Aaron. They were told they just needed to be patient, which was something even she’d admit she’d never been very good at. She’d felt more disheartened than ever after that appointment, wondering if it was the universe simply deciding she just shouldn’t have a baby. 

When she finally found herself looking at a positive pregnancy test she couldn’t believe it. She’d taken it as part of her routine more than anything, clicking the lid into place and putting it down on the counter before she washed her hands and then her face. It was only after she was finished drying her face and reaching out for the next step in her skincare routine that she looked down at it, her eyes going wide as she saw two bright pink lines staring back at her. She’d dropped the bottle of serum in her hand, and the smash of the glass container against the tiled floor was what had gained Aaron’s attention. He’d run into their bathroom, his eyes flicking between the glass on the floor and the tears in her eyes, already comforting her, concerned she’d hurt herself. 

She’d never let him live it down that it was him who’d ended up stepping on the glass on the floor once she’d told him she was pregnant, her words cracking as she held up the test.

She hadn’t quite believed it was real until her doctor confirmed it, until she saw the tiny dot on the ultrasound screen. She was 16 weeks along, some of her seemingly ever-present anxiety about her pregnancy soothed by the fact she was visibly pregnant now, her tiny bump something she knew her soon-to-be husband was as mesmerised by as she was. 

They had never intended to keep it a secret as long as they had, initially saying they’d stick to tradition, for once, and tell people once the first trimester was over. They’d been ready to tell their friends, poised to do it after they returned from a case, but Emily had a scare. Pain that had ripped through her abdomen and had left her terrified, the feeling lingering long after the doctor confirmed everything was okay, that it was her scar tissue adding to the usual discomfort of her abdominals shifting during pregnancy. 

After that, she’d told Aaron she wanted to keep it secret a little while longer, her need to be able to control something, anything, pushing her to insist that they didn’t tell their friends as planned. Aaron said it was her call, that he’d follow her lead, and they agreed they’d tell everyone once the wedding was out of the way. One less thing resting on their shoulders, the run-up to the wedding as stressful as it was joyous. 

Her stomach flips with nervous excitement as the door behind her opens, and she smiles as she turns to look at her fiance. 

“Em, sweetheart, are you almost…” Aaron drifts off as he walks into the room, his words dying in his throat as he looks at her. He steps towards her, looking her up and down as he does so, shaking his head in disbelief at how beautiful she is, in disbelief that she is his, “You look incredible.” 

She blushes, looking down at herself before she looks back up at him, her eyes flicking over his suit, the red tie she’d bought him for today, “You look pretty incredible yourself.” 

He steps forward, reaching out and untucking one of her curls from under the collar of her jacket, laying it with the rest of her dark hair resting on her shoulders. His hand drifts down and comes to rest on her bump, his smile soft as his eyes meet hers. 

“How is he doing today?” He asks and Emily chuckles softly. She pushes her jacket back and places her hands on her hips, revealing her bump. 

She smiles as she looks at him, “He’s okay.” 

Due to Emily’s age and her medical history, she was having frequent scans. At the most recent one just a few days ago the doctor had asked if they wanted to know if they were having a girl or a boy. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation, both of them saying yes in unison, neither one of them patient enough to wait any longer. She cried when they were told it was a boy, a reaction she knew she would have had either way, and a part of her still felt like none of this was real. That she’d wake up back in Paris, on a different continent far away from everyone she cared about and not in the home she owned with the love of her life, just a few hours away from marrying him with their little boy growing safely under her skin. 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, “You’re not feeling too nauseous?”

She shakes her head and lets her jacket fall back into place, “A little,” she says, leaning forward to stamp a kiss against his lips, “I think it’s mostly nerves though.” 

He raises his eyebrow at her, his smile flickering ever so slightly, “Good nerves I hope?”

She smiles and nods, “The best,” she kisses him again and when she pulls back she wipes her lipstick from his face, her thumb delicate against his lips. 

“We should get going, otherwise Dave will tell everyone we’re late because we’re hooking up,” he says, kissing her hand before she lets it drop back down to her side. She rolls her eyes and turns back to look at herself in the mirror, giving herself one final look before they leave. 

“That literally happened one time,” she grumbles, pulling at the material of her jacket again. She sighs as he wraps his arms around her from behind, his palm resting on her stomach. She places her hand over his and smiles, “We’re still sticking to the plan tonight, right?” 

He nods and kisses the side of her head, “I’ll drink your champagne for you, and one of the caters is aware you need soda water dressed up as a cocktail.” 

“You’re the best,” she says, smiling at him in the mirror as she squeezes his hand, “Let’s go get married.” 

He turns her in his arms and kisses her, “Let’s go get married.” 

___

Any nerves she may have been feeling disappear the moment she starts to walk down the aisle and her eyes lock with Aaron’s. It’s everything she’d ever secretly wanted but never thought she’d have, her future in Aaron and Jack’s matching smiles as she gets closer and in the tiny baby in her belly. 

The ceremony goes by quickly, a haze of tears and laughter that echoes around her during their vows. All of her focus is on him, on the way he’s looking at her, his words about how much he loves her almost passing her by. She makes a mental note to ask him to repeat them to her later, to keep the note cards he’d written them on so she could always return to them, to this feeling, when life was tougher than it was today. 

Later in the evening, when Jack and Henry are tucked up in bed in one of the spare bedrooms of Dave’s home, the party really starts to get going. The champagne flowing freely, as it had been all afternoon and evening, a bottle of scotch that Dave kept using to pour a measure into Aaron’s glass every time he spotted it was empty, and tequila shots that Penelope seemed to have an endless supply of all being handed around with enthusiasm. Emily had successfully swerved all the drinks offered to her, either by convincing her friends her soda water was alcoholic, or by slipping her drink to her new husband, but it did have one, slightly, unfortunate side effect.

Aaron was drunk. 

He wasn’t obnoxious when drunk, nor was he someone who became louder than usual, something Emily knew she was guilty of herself, but he was more affectionate than he normally would be. He’d constantly be on her, his hands on her hips her lower back, his lips against her neck as he whispered how much he loves her, how much he wants her, against her skin. It was affection he’d usually keep for their home, for when they were behind closed doors, suddenly on display for all to see. Usually, she’d find it amusing. She’d exchange looks with her friends, smiling at the enjoyment Penelope particularly seemed to get out of seeing this usually private side of them, and she’d settle into Aaron’s embrace. 

Whilst she was still enjoying it, smiling at him whenever he pulled her closer and tasting the scotch on his tongue when he leaned in to kiss her, she was also a little worried he’d blow their cover. They’d got away with no one noticing she wasn’t drinking alcohol, but he kept slipping his hand over her stomach, his palm warm as snuck under her jacket and cupped her bump when no one was looking. 

She smiles as he sneaks up behind her again, back from his trip to the free bar with Dave. Aaron sneaks his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek and then her neck, sighing as he rests his hand on her stomach again. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, his words slurring ever so slightly, kissing her neck again before he pulls away, “How are you?” 

She smiles as she links her fingers through his, shifting their joint hands to her hip so it is less conspicuous, “I’m okay,” she replies, tilting her head to look up at him, “Never thought I’d be a stone-cold sober bride whilst everyone else gets drunk,” she quips, raising her eyebrow as she looks out at the crowd and spots her mother doing the conga with the team,  “But he’s worth it.” 

He hums, his hand shifting back to her stomach, forcing her to look back at the party as he rubs a circle, his hand once again finding its way past the barrier of her jacket. She smiles and turns in his arms, his hand sliding down her back and she shakes her head at him. She cups his cheek and stamps a kiss against his lips, still smiling when she pulls back.

“Honey, you’ve got to stop,” she says, kissing him again, “You’re going to give us away before we get the chance to tell anyone.” 

He turns serious and he nods, leaning in to kiss her before he pulls away entirely, “You’re right.” 

She narrows her eyes as he steps away and she tries to grab for his hand, missing it as he gets beyond her reach, “Where are you going?” She asks, keeping her voice as quiet as she can so none of the others overhear her. She gets the answer to her question when he gets onto the small stage Dave had hired for the band to play on and he whispers something to the singer, taking the microphone from him mid-song. She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, “Oh for fucks sake, here we go,” she looks down at her stomach and places her hand on it, well aware that everyone's attention was on her husband so she was safe to do so, “I’m never going to let Daddy live this one down, sweet boy.” 

There’s loud feedback from the microphone as Aaron taps on it, making sure that everyone is truly paying attention to him. Emily shakes her head and walks towards the small crowd, her arms crossed over her chest as she accepts what’s about to happen, vaguely amused by how the amount of scotch in Aaron’s system was making him put himself as the centre of attention, something he usually avoided at all costs. 

“I wanted to just take a moment to thank you all for coming,” he says, a goofy smile on his face that makes her fall impossibly more in love with him, “My wife,” he says, cut off by a cheer from Penelope, “And I are so grateful that you are here to celebrate with us and we want to make an announcement…”

Emily presses her lips together to suppress a smile, looking down at the ground in an attempt to hide how pink her cheeks had turned, a mix of excitement and embarrassment making her blush. She feels her friends and her mother’s gazes briefly burning into her before they turn back to Aaron, his words loud even without the microphone. 

“We’re having a baby.” 

There’s a moment of silence that is all too brief before everyone reacts, their exclamations of excitement echoing around the backyard. Penelope is on her before Emily knows what’s happening, hugging her so tightly that her feet briefly leave the floor. 

“You’re pregnant?” Penelope exclaims and Emily chuckles, nodding as she places her hands on her friend's shoulders and pushes back a little.

“Yes,” she says, chuckling as she throws her husband a look, “But you need to let me go or you might squeeze him out.” 

“Him?” Penelope exclaims, clearly stopping herself from pulling Emily into a fierce hug. JJ steps forward and looks Emily up and down.

“You know already?” JJ asks, hugging her friend more gently than Penelope had, “How far along are you?” 

Emily blows out a slow breath, well aware her answer would only create more questions. She senses Aaron behind her, no longer on the stage now he’d told everyone, his hand on her stomach as he pulls her back into his embrace. 

“16 weeks.” 

There’s another moment of silence, everyone looking at them with differing levels of shock on their faces, before Elizabeth is finally the one to speak.

“16 weeks?”

Emily sighs as they all start asking questions at once, their voices overlapping, not letting anyone else get a word in as they bombard them. She turns her head to look at her husband and she raises her eyebrow.

“You couldn’t have just kept your mouth shut?” She asks, her smile giving away that she wasn’t annoyed in the slightest. It was nice to know everyone they cared about now knew about the baby, sharing the secret making it somehow feel more real. 

His expression turns serious, “And have to keep reminding myself to keep my hands off of you so I didn’t give us away?” He asks, shaking his head, “Never.” 

___

Emily smiles as she feels the bed shift next to her followed by a groan, the first signs of life from her husband so far that morning. He tugs on the covers, pulling them tighter around him, and she chuckles.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she says, only laughing louder when he groans again.

“What the hell did I drink last night?” He says, finally revealing his face, pulling the covers away so he can look up at her where she is sitting next to him. 

“Everything, honey,” she deadpans, leaning down to stamp a kiss against his lips, grimacing slightly at his breath, “I think you drank everything,” she shifts closer to him and smiles when he rests his head in her lap, his forehead against her bump. She runs her fingers through his hair, “Do you want me to go get you a drink or something? I can highly recommend ginger ale.” 

He looks up at her, “There’s something wrong with my pregnant wife looking after me like this,” he says, his voice gravelly in a way that never fails to make her stomach flip, “I should be making sure you’re okay.”

She scratches at his scalp, “Baby boy and I are perfectly fine,” she says, smiling widely at him, “And I think you get a pass the day after our wedding where you drank all of my drinks and yours.” 

He hums and sits up, his stomach rolling as he does so, forcing him to sit deadly still for a moment whilst the nausea passes. Once it does he wraps his arm around Emily’s shoulders and she leans into him. She breathes him in deeply, the smell of scotch on his skin something she liked in a way she never fully understood. 

“So,” she says curiously, clearing her throat as she looks at him, “Do you remember anything about your little…announcement?” 

He frowns, desperately trying to remember what she was talking about and he shakes his head, “My announcement?” 

She nods and moves so she’s sitting in his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. He rests his hands on her hips automatically, holding her in place without thought. 

“Well, you were drunk so obviously you were all over me,” she says, brushing some of his hair from his forehead, “And you kept touching my bump, it’s like you were freaking magnetised to it or something,” she rolls her eyes lovingly at his behaviour the night before, “And I said you were going to give us away. So, in order to be able to carry on touching me…”

“I got on stage and told everyone you’re pregnant,” he says, his eyes wide as the memory returns to him. He curses under his breath, guilt flooding through his chest and briefly replacing the nausea, “Shit, Em, sweetheart I am so so sorry.” 

She shakes her head at him and places a hand on each of his cheeks, holding him in place and forcing him to look at her, “You have nothing to be sorry for, honey,” she says, stroking her thumb over his skin, “I’m glad everyone knows.”

He frowns, his eyebrows pulled together by doubt, “Are you sure?”

She nods, “Yeah,” she says, her smile wide, “It’s nice they know, it makes it feel more…real,” she says and she shrugs, “Besides, one day we’ll be able to embarrass him and Jack by telling them both that you love their mom so much you told everyone about him before we planned to, just so you could keep feeling me up.” 

He chuckles and leans forward to kiss her but she shifts out of the way, her nose turned up, “I thought you said-”

“Oh, I’m not annoyed at you honey, I promise,” she says, assuring him, lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles instead, “Your breath just fucking sucks.” 

-x-

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[gwenmontrose]

Of Crossbows and Lawyers

@jilymicrofics February Prompt List | No. 8: Uncertainty

Words: 1.6k

First time writing in English, so I really hope it's decent! Inspired by one of my favourite scenes of one of my favourite tv series, Fleabag 💕

Lily Evans never had problems with the law during the first twenty-eight years of her life.

On the contrary, everyone who knew her would describe her as the model citizen. No speed tickets, no minor thefts, not even a single fine for a book returned late to the local library.

Nothing.

Even her appearance was one of a sensible, intelligent young woman, polite and well-mannered, with that kind of innate beauty that made people in the streets turn around to look at her.

She was, in her words, completely and utterly ordinary.

So, it was with a little bit of a shock that she found herself – at the ripe age of twenty-eight and two days – walking down the corridor of a posh London law firm, in her best suit, desperately trying to keep up with the marching pace of her sister, and just a few moments away from meeting her brand-new solicitor for the first time.

It was even more shocking that Petunia, of all people, was the one helping her out of the legal mess she found herself in, but life had taken a very unexpected turn just a few days before, so Lily had wisely decided to accept any given hand and not to question her neurotic older sister.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Petunia had decided to help her out of pure goodness of heart, or in the name of sisterly affection. When she had found out that Lily had been arrested during a peaceful march for women’s rights, which had unfortunately turned into an out-of-control riot, she had been positively horrified.

«Just think of what this could mean for Vernon’s imminent promotion!» she had hissed on the phone when Lily had called her, as if her precious’ husband’s boss could care less about his sister-in-law’s misdeeds. «We have to clean up your reputation quickly, before anyone else comes to know about this. You need the best defence attorney we can get»

She hadn’t even wanted to listen to Lily’s explanation.

«I don’t care if you were wrongly mistaken for the person who actually broke that window with a homemade crossbow» she had said, almost growling. «I just want to fucking erase your criminal record and be done with this nonsense»

Petunia had probably cursed only three other times in her entire life. Lily had been so stunned that she forgot how to speak for a good twenty minutes.

Therefore, Lily found herself in a truly surreal situation, but maybe this time her sister’s love for order and propriety was going to be her salvation, instead of a constant pain in the ass.

As they were approaching the attorney’s office, Petunia started to rattle off a long and interminable list of dos and don’ts and basic rules of what she defined as “civil interaction”, adding here and there sparse information about the man who was going to represent her.

«He’s on top of his game» she said, stiffly, marching with unexpected sureness down the corridor. «Maybe a bit too young, but he managed to pull Dave Thomas out of a very, very tight corner last year»

«Wasn’t Dave Thomas the one who broke into his ex-wife’s house to steal her –»

«Yes, Lily, and we don’t talk about this in public, please. He was Vernon’s groomsman at our wedding» Petunia levelled her with an icy stare and then went on. «Now, I hear this lawyer has the best success rate of his firm and he agreed to take your case because he’s apparently a feminist» Her mouth twisted in a strange grimace as she said the word. «Or something like that»

«It appears he still has a little bit of integrity left after defending Dave Thomas» muttered Lily. «Good for him»

«I’ve already filled him with the basics» Petunia ploughed on, ignoring her comment. «Just be serious, will you?»

«I’ll do my best»

«And do whatever he says»

«What if he asks me to –»

«And don’t flirt with him»

Lily was so taken aback that she almost burst out laughing. She rearranged her face in the most disbelieving expression she could manage, as if she were extremely offended by Petunia’s admonition, and scoffed: «I’m not going to f –»

Then the door of the office in front of them opened abruptly and the most gorgeous man Lily had ever seen appeared behind it.

«– fucking hell, okay» she concluded in a whisper.

He was tall, dark, handsome in a very effortless way, with warm hazel eyes behind stylish glasses and a stupid, infectious grin dancing on perfect full lips. He was wearing what was with all probability a tailored black suit, for it seemed almost stitched on his lean and athletic body, and he carried himself with that type of self-confidence that could only belong to a person who didn’t know the feeling of uncertainty.

Lily had always thought lawyers were kind of sexy, but she had never seen such a fine specimen and for a moment she almost felt grateful for the absurd situation that had led her to meet him.

Then she remembered she was going to be taken to trial for vandalism and private property damage and her enthusiasm dimmed a little bit.  

«Right on time!» he said, almost jovially, as if he hadn’t just flipped Lily’s world upside down. «Miss and Mrs Dursley, I assume?»

«Miss Evans» Petunia hastily corrected him. «She’s my sister. I’ve taken my husband’s last name»

The exquisite man in front of them smiled kindly – Lily noted that a dimple appeared on his left cheek when he did that – and then hold out his hand to her.

She shook it weakly.

«I’m James Potter» he said.

Even his name was attractive, for fuck’s sake.

«And I suppose you are the dangerous criminal who smashed open a shop window during a very illegal and reprehensible revolt against the status quo» he continued. «How disappointing of you»

Lily blinked.

«I’m joking!» he exclaimed, after a beat. Then he smiled, almost in a mischievous way. «My mother was at the march, too, you know?»

«What?!» Lily and Petunia gasped, the former with incredulous surprise, the latter with clear distaste.

«Oh, yes» he confirmed to both, proudly, before turning again his attention back to Lily. «But I dare say she was a little bit more fortunate than you, since she managed to hail a taxi and come home before everything went south»

«Lucky her» mumbled Lily.

«I must say, though, I’m very curious about the whole homemade crossbow affair» he went on. His eyes, which were sparkling with mirth, searched her in a way that made her feel strangely seen. «I know you don’t just judge a book from its cover, but you don’t seem the type to assemble Medieval weapons in her basement as a hobby»

«Usually I prefer something more traditional as reading a book on a park bench, but sometimes I like to change, you know, to liven up my life» Lily immediately said, forgetting everything about her predicament and her sister’s rules and not flirting with one’s lawyer.

«I think it’s a wonderful way to do so» James agreed. «Even if it occasionally lands you in the local prison»

«It was just a police station»

«My bad, miss Evans» he said, before smiling again. «Apologies»

«So» Petunia interjected, stiffly, before Lily could open her mouth, interrupting their conversation with the timing of a huge pimple on the day of an important date. «I see you hit it off wonderfully»

If James heard the razor-sharp quality of her voice, he didn’t seem to be put off by it.

«I think we’ll get along fine» he commented.

She really needed to stop thinking about him in very different and spicier scenarios.

«Yeah» she said weakly, trying to ignore the “don’t fuck your lawyer” look that Petunia was furiously sending her. As if she could afford to risk her dignity and pristine criminal record just for the thrill to sleep with her attorney. Even if he was something akin to a model. «You can go, Petunia. I’ll manage on my own from here»

Petunia scrunched her nose in a very irritated way, but didn’t dare to argue with her in front of a relative stranger. So, after giving her a stern and reproachful look, she hitched her bag to her shoulder and said a polite and detached goodbye to James.

«I’ll see you later» she said to her and, with a last warning stare, she went off in the opposite direction, disappearing down the long corridor and finally leaving them alone.

For a moment, they both remained silent.

Then James chuckled, almost to himself, and took a step back into his office.

«Shall we get started?» he said, beckoning her to follow him inside. «I’d hate for you to go to prison, miss Evans»

«I really hope you’re good at what you do, because I have no plans to do so in the immediate future» she replied, honestly, and then, feeling strangely bold now that her sister wasn’t there, she added: «You can call me Lily, by the way»

«I don’t think it’s proper for me to be on a first-name basis with my clients» James argued, but his voice was teasing. He sat behind a large mahogany desk that probably was worth a small fortune and invited her to take a seat in front of him. «But maybe I can make an exception for you. Lily»

Lily laughed and shook her head.

When she woke up that morning, she didn’t think that at the end of the day she would find herself in much more trouble than she already was, but it seemed like it was totally going in that direction.

And she certainly wasn’t going to complain about it.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

2. Page-turning Fanfic Underneath it All by Heartsmadeofbooks 3. Fanfic that made you reach for a box of tissues- Hummel’s Home for Non-Conforming Adolescents by BeautifulUnseen 4. Fanfic where one has an unusual occupation- Dance Me To The End Of Love by Kurtswish 5. Wild Card - Love, Blaine by GleefulDarrenCrissfan 6. ? 7.written for a challenge- The Prom-us Misc authors

8. Made me lol - Chocolate Milk byCoffeeAddict80 9. Trope you don't usually read- Everybody's Naked and There's a Country to Run by CoffeeGleek

Thank you for your card! Find them on A03

2. Page turning fic: Underneath it All by @heartsmadeofbooks

Blaine first meets the mysterious Kurt Hummel at his brother's engagement party, and he's immediately struck by the quiet, handsome stranger. He doesn't expect their paths to cross again, but when life gives an unexpected turn, Kurt might be the only one with the power to help him save everything he cares about.

3. Fanfic that made you reach for a box of tissues- Hummel’s Home for Non-Conforming Adolescents by @beautifulunseen

Blaine Anderson had learned from the time he was marked as Non-Conforming that his life would never go according to plan. Still, the last thing he expected was Hummel’s Home and its head boy Kurt, who had, against all odds, escaped the same fate. Dystopian AU.

4. Fanfic where one has an unusual occupation- Dance Me To The End Of Love by @kurtswish

While unwinding at a club, Blaine Anderson meets a stranger who promises him one night of passion. When the night is over, Blaine wants more, so does Kurt; but what Kurt offers him is not quite what he was expecting.

5. Wild Card - Love, Blaine by @gleefuldarrencrissfan

Blaine Anderson is a typical teenager. Except he’s not because he’s hiding a huge secret. He’s gay. But after reading a confession on the informal Dalton blog, he discovers that he’s not the only closeted boy at Dalton. After a moment of courage, he emails him and ultimately starts up a friendship that will change life as he knows it. Loosely based on Love, Simon.

6. Summer story ------- no choice

7. Written for a challenge- The Prom-us Misc authors @gleefuldarrencrissfan @esperantoauthor @hkvoyage @hippohead @honeysucklepink @grlnxtdr30 @justgleekout @notyourdayrdream @missflurry @starpunchsoup Kellyb321

Kurt and Blaine met just as they did in canon, and even though Blaine realizes when Kurt sings Blackbird that he's in love with Kurt, he never says anything, and Kurt goes back to McKinley. Blaine transfers to McKinley for senior year, and they are best friends, bonding on being the only two out guys at McKinley until Karaofsky comes back. And he's out and proud, and he wants Kurt. And so he asks Kurt to be his prom date, repeatedly until Kurt, in frustration, finally blurts out that someone already asked him. He said the first name that came to mind, Blaine's. On top of that, he tells Dave that they are now dating. Now, Kurt needs to convince his best friend to take him to the biggest event of their high school year, senior prom. Tropes: Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, High school Klaine, Canon Divergent

8. Fic made me laugh out loud - Chocolate Milk by @caramelcoffeeaddict CoffeeAddict80

Based off a prompt found on tumblr -- “Yes, I know this is a bar, but you’re a really hot bartender, and I panicked and said “CHOCOLATE MILK” when you asked me what I wanted to drink, now I just want to crawl away and hide forever” AU

9. Trope you don't usually read- Everybody's Naked and There's a Country to Run by @coffeegleek

A take on the "prince/king!Blaine and prince/king!Kurt are getting married and have to do it while naked in front of their loyal subjects" trope. It’s pure crack taken seriously. I’m blaming the heat. The fic started as this wisp of an idea and a single funny Kurt line. It was supposed to all be fast paced and instead sometimes dissolves into a bit of world building, exposition, and Kurt feelings. I do try my best and hope that at least some of the jokes and humor land. It also developed a full blown plot that has a beginning and an end.

[danidrabbles]

🎵❤️

It's been a while since you sent this, but thank you so much for the support and for sending me a message ❤️

Send me a 🎵, I’ll put my music on shuffle and write something inspired by that song.

Pairing: Dave York / f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+! smut, masturbation, breasts (mentioned, big enough to at least push together), description of.... explicit videos and me parodying them badly (probably))

Unpaid Intern

“Anyone need a coffee?” you ask, popping your head into the conference room. Everyone in the room turns their head towards you at once, and, feeling on the spot, you add, “I’m um, doing a run, so...”

Everyone rattles off their orders, leaving your boss last.

“I’ll have one,” he says. “You know how I like it.” It could’ve sounded condescending, but it’s more… trusting. 

“All right, mister York,” you say, giving him a nod.

Before you leave, he addresses you, waits until you look him in the eye when he says, “Please, call me Dave.”

You nod again, cheeks heating. 

Later, when you bring everyone’s orders, he’s the only one who thanks you.

– – – – –

You’ve been here for two months now and as the intern, you get the chores other people don’t really want; the office is in the middle of digitising a couple of old documents, and it became your job to do it. You hate to admit it, but it’s actually teaching you something. It has taken up the biggest part of your week, but today, you’re on the brink of finishing it. It makes the day pass fast as you work quickly, but thoroughly, and by the time it’s early evening, everything is done.

When you’re about to leave, Dave is just stepping out of his office.

As he closes the door behind him, his eyes find you with quiet curiosity. “Now, tell me why the intern is one of the last ones out the door.”

You jab your thumb over your shoulder, pointing at the records room. “Only just finished up, but it’s all done.”

“Always making sure everyone is looked after, always got your work done by the end of the day…” He gives you a once over and nods in approval. “You’re a hard worker. I like it.”

His praise makes you soar, a sense of pride making your belly swoop. You have to be careful not to let it show too much. “Thank you, sir–Dave,” you correct quickly.

“Good,” he says with a nod, lingering a little before saying his goodbyes. “See you tomorrow.”

– – – – –

Commute. Dinner. Waste what remains of your evening on the couch. Bed.

Once there, you can’t really settle, the swoop in your belly from earlier replaced with something else that makes you buzz. After turning, tossing and turning again, you reach for your phone, finally give into what you hope will help.

A week or so ago, your best friend had recommended you… a video. She texted you the link, added the comment, I think this is the first time I’ve ever thought a guy's dick was pretty. 

Now might be the time to see if you agree.

After reaching for your earphones on your nightstand and popping them in, you scrolling back in your text history to find and click the link. The screengrab under the play button is lewd. It's an actor sitting on an office chair with an actress in his lap, but they’re reduced to just their body parts; the camera is focussed on his cock buried deep inside of her…

Settling back against your pillow, knees spread wide beneath your blankets, you hit play.

The actress’ high, nasally voice does a voiceover about how difficult a new job can be, how hard it is working in an all-male environment, and how she needs her boss’ approval on the report she’s been working on.

The door of her office opens, and an actor enters, the voiceover informing you it’s her boss. "Can I see you in my office, please?" he asks.

You inhale sharply at the sight of him; he looks just like your boss. Your clit throbs in response, the flush of embarrassment and arousal at the reaction going from your crown all the way to the tips of your toes. It gives you pause, one finger hovering over the pause button, another finger teasing yourself over your underwear.

You don’t pause.

They talk about the report; badly acted dialogue where he approves of her work. It’s just build-up for what comes next. As they talk, the actor’s voice becomes his voice. And as the video plays, your eyes flutter closed, using it to build your own little fantasy around it… 

He wouldn't waste time - he's a busy man. But he wouldn’t just pounce on you, either. He’d ease into it a little, charm you; stand close, tell you you look pretty, swipe a strand of hair from your brow as he looks down your blouse. You’d stutter out his name, his title and his last name, and he’d correct you.

“Call me Dave.”

And you’d nod.

“Always taking such good care of everything, but who’s taking care of you, hmm?” says the voice in your ear. “Let me help you.”

He would say something like that, too.

You cup yourself over the fabric between your legs, your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you hear the actors on screen share a kiss, and you take a quick peek to watch their tongues tangle together.

Dave’s plump bottom lip would fit so well between your lips, the both of you testing the waters softly before he'd cup your jaw and deepen the kiss. While his tongue explored your mouth, he’d back you up against his desk, the edge digging into the curve of your ass, the hard ridge of his cock against your front. Wandering hands would roam your body, squeezing your waist, a large palm–

“Let’s get this off, show me these.”

–cupping your chest. You would unbutton your blouse, hands trembling under his watchful gaze, struggling with a few small buttons until the fabric falls open to reveal your heaving chest. 

A single finger would hook in the front of your bra while you shrug your blouse off, and Dave would pull the cup down until it revealed a stiff nipple. Reaching behind your back, you would undo the clasp, making your bra fall away so he could see. 

“Look at these fucking tits,” his voice sails into your ears, followed by an appreciative groan.

You place the phone down next to you so you can still see, but have both hands free, and ruck up the fabric of your shirt. With a groan, you take a breast in your hand and squeeze, before pinching your nipple.

They’d fit in his hands nicely, cupped, squeezed, pushed together, before his mouth would replace a hand to suck at your nipple, graze it with his teeth. 

You watch the actor’s mouth coming off the actress’ chest with an audible pop! before diving down again and getting another taste of her. As he does, she pulls up the short skirt she’s wearing until it’s bunched up around her waist, then lays back on the desk. Her fingers dip between her spread legs and you do the same, fingers sliding beneath the fabric of your panties and finally touching yourself. You let out a breathy sound at the contact, dragging some wetness up to roll over your stiff clit.

It's erotic, the idea of yourself laying back like that, tits out, red marks all over them, playing with yourself. You imagine your boss watching, one corner of his mouth pulling up with an amused purse of his lips at your newfound confidence. 

The jiggle of a belt fills your ears, and you watch, enthralled, as the actor’s cock comes into view, bobbing against his stomach when he pulls his pants down to mid thigh. You let out a quiet sound at the sight. He's hard, thick, pink and swollen at the tip. Your friend was right. It's pretty. It fits right with your fantasy. 

Dave would open his belt, pulling it off with quick, rough moves and throwing it aside, before opening his pants to reveal his cock. Your mind can’t help but imagine him the same way, heavy and full, your reaction to it making him give himself a few strokes before taking his place between your legs.

You clench when you hear the actor spit, and an involuntary moan leaves your mouth just when the actress lets out hers. You buck into your own hand, the circles you draw around your clit tightening, speeding up when you feel a familiar pull somewhere below your belly button.

You imagine Dave doing it, spreading your legs and spitting on you, watching it slide down to your opening before smearing his cock through it. It would make him groan when you moan his name in reply to it, giving you the very tip of his cock, both watching as it slips just past that initial bit or resistance. He’d praise your sweet plea’s before you’d even realize they were leaving your lips, and lean down to press a wet, messy kiss to your mouth, slowly sliding into you.

Two fingers slip down, your excitement spiking when you realize how easily the digits can glide inside of yourself. The actors on your screen don’t ease into it, the sound of skin slapping against skin all you can hear. It takes over in your head, matching their pace as you fuck yourself to the idea of Dave’s cock sliding in and out of you.

He’d stretch you open just how you like it, experienced and sure, his fingers digging into your soft hips and using them as leverage to pull you back on his thrusts. His hand would come up on occasion, to paw at your tits just to feel. 

Maybe he’d spank them. 

The office would fill with your muffled moans, mixing in with his whispered approval; how well you’re taking it, how good you feel around him, how he’s been thinking about this ever since you started your internship.

“You like it, baby?” The rough voice in your ear asks. “You like it when I rub your pretty clit?”

Dave’s thumb would slide down the curls above your slit, find your clit to draw circles around it that match the pace he’s fucking you with. Your hushed confirmation would only spur him on, make him fuck you harder.

“Fuck,” you huff, your own thumb mimicking your fantasy, matching every pump of your fingers. You find a good spot with a curl of your fingers, and you concentrate on that.

You’d be a babbling mess. “More. Dave, please. Faster. There–Right fucking there, just like that,” while your fingers desperately claw at his forearms. You’d reach for his tie, twist it around your palm to pull him into a bruising kiss, just how you like it, right before–

“Are you gonna come on this cock?”

You moan into your empty bedroom, nodding to yourself as you find the perfect pace; the swipe of your thumb just so, your fingers hitting something exactly right…

“Fucking do it.”

It shoves you over the edge. Your back comes off the bed, a hand clamping over your mouth to keep yourself from shouting as the walls of your pussy clench desperately around your fingers. You ride it out as quietly as you can, fingers still working until you’re through, and your body falls back against your mattress with a sigh.

In your ears, the scene continues. The actor’s groans mixing in with the actress’ moans until his sounds take over. He pulls out of her roughly, a little laugh escaping him, like he stopped himself just in time.

“Fuck, yeah. Let me taste it, baby,” he says, kneeling at the edge of the desk, pushing his head between the actress’ shaking thighs… 

And between your own legs, your fingers begin moving again.

– – – – –

The next day at work, you’re exhausted and on edge. You’d stayed up far too long, lost in the fantasy, your second orgasm still not enough to douse the arousal coursing through your body. At least your plan had worked: You’d fallen asleep right after–

Suddenly, your name echoes through the hallway. Startled, you look over your shoulder to see mister York's head peek out of the office door. Your eyes lock on his.

"Can I see you in my office, please?"

– – – – – My notes for this were: Oh, god, how can I even use this… “Because you can’t afford a mortgage you just torrent a porn.” WHAT IF it’s about an intern who has a crush on her boss, and later when she watches a movie she pictures herself with this boss.

[the-queen-and-the-king]

Just a booty call - 12

Summary: Haley has been killed by Foyet and Aaron is now a single dad. Emily wants to be sure that he's all right.

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss and Jack Hotchner

Contents: Plenty of angst. Grieving, lost of a relative, thoughts about what happened to Haley and mention of what Foyet did to Aaron again. Guilt, exhaustion, sadness, nightmare . NSFW/MINORS DNI

This text is a try, with a reverse structure compared to the other Hotchniss' AU I'm used to work on. It all starts with a FWB that will evolve into something else (with a certain amount of angst).

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

It was a catastrophe. After a nerve-wracking hibernation for the whole team, Foyet emerged from his lair and launched a blistering attack. He'd led them around by the nose from beginning to end, and they'd had no choice but to watch helplessly as the story came to a tragic conclusion. She could still hear the gunshots hitting her eardrums, waking her up in the middle of the night. She was also reliving that atrocious scene of instinctive, primitive brutality, which made her nauseous every time her memory was activated. She smelled of blood, sweat, ninety-degree alcohol and disinfectant from the hospital where Aaron had been taken just afterwards. To be cared for, but above all, to be watched over for as long as necessary. What had happened had been traumatic for her and her colleagues; it was surely much more so for him.

Yet, unsurprisingly, he quickly escaped from the care center. Not without a reason overall. Jack was there and he needed his father. So, the giant had ignored the doctors' advice and returned home – where he'd been mutilated – with his son under his arm, to play his part. To accomplish this mission that scared the hell out of him, and for which he was certain he had no skills whatsoever. But he had no choice. Four years earlier, he had signed a paper recognizing this brand-new human being as his own. He had shirked his responsibilities in the years that followed, but now he had to face up to the consequences of his actions. Every consequence of all his actions.

The little boy wouldn't exist if he hadn't slept with his mother nine months before he was born. A mother who surely wouldn't have been mixed up in all this if he hadn't hit on her, if he hadn't dragged her along, if he hadn't married her before he had to let her go. A separation that might never have happened if he hadn't plunged headlong into this profiling business. In fact, had he remained a federal prosecutor, his life would surely not have taken such a turn. If he hadn't been charmed by Dave's speech, she'd still be here. If he hadn't hung up that phone, Jack wouldn't have lost the person he needed most. If he'd taken the time to have his windows replaced, he wouldn't have the weight of this disappearance on his shoulders. If…

The process was endless. The number of possibilities was infinite. But at this hour, there was only on truth. Haley was dead. Foyet had shot her twice in the torso. He hadn't enjoyed his victory, as Hotch had showed up on site shortly afterwards. Foyet was dead. Aaron had killed him, bare handed. When Emily and her peers had arrived there, the house was a battlefield, home to two corpses, an agent in the throes of a loss of control and a little boy hiding in a laundry chest. Derek was the only one to come to his senses quickly enough to stop the butchery in progress. She, like JJ, like Dave, like Spencer, had watched in horror, paralyzed by the cruelty of the event. It was one thing to wander through a crime scene where nothing remained, but silhouettes delineated by tape, it was quite another to see the murderer take his victim's life live on air.

It would have been a lie to say she wasn't scared. Scared of him. Scared of what he became. Scared of what he could do. But the rest of the day reassured her. In some kind of way. Aaron collapsed. The cold colossus they'd always known had vanished, replaced by a devastated man, at his wits' end, physically and mentally, unable to stand and crying non-stop. In front of them. In front of her. She didn't know about the others, but it had been an extremely hard time for her. She wanted so much to take him in her arms. Just to cradle him, place kisses on his temple, forehead, hair – anywhere that might have had soothing virtues – and whisper to him that he wasn't alone and that he could count on her. Instead, she stood stiff as a stick beside her counterparts, arms flailing and heart clenching.

The days that followed were a succession of tedious but obligatory tasks. Especially for him, but they'd also been affected by the ripple effect. Confronting Haley's parents, answering questions from the board of directors, emptying the house, organizing the funeral and, finally, burying the woman they had all failed to protect. Emily had hoped to take this opportunity to renew contact with him. By shaking his hand, hugging him for a few seconds or simply talking to him. Nothing more enterprising, it wasn't the place for it and even less the time. But their cell phones had suddenly started ringing in their pockets as they dined around a large round table. Duty had called them exactly when it shouldn't have. They'd had to abandon him to his fate to board the jet.

She had never been in such a hurry to complete a case. She had never been so disinterested either. Her mind kept drifting back to this man who had to face so much upheaval alone. Bereavement wasn't easy enough, and it was even harder when you had no shoulder to lean on. She kept her fingers crossed that Jessica, Hotch's ex-sister-in-law, would provide some support – if only to counterbalance the vindictiveness emanating from Haley's family. Roy Brooks had reacted very badly to the news of his eldest daughter's death, blaming the man who had once been his son-in-law. Aaron hadn’t defended himself. And during the funeral, she had sensed a certain animosity on the part of the deceased's relatives. In fact, Jack and his father were the only Hotchners present at the ceremony. Not because no parents wanted to come, but because they were told not to. They weren’t welcome. No doubt the giant had been barely tolerated.

And now he was home alone, having to deal with a grieving four-year-old boy whom he hardly knew and who couldn't possibly have understood everything that had happened. Did he call his mother? Was he asking to see her? Did he trust this gigantic man, whom he had seen only sporadically over the past two years? She couldn't imagine how difficult this situation would be. Aaron had to learn everything from his son in record time, without being able to ask anyone any questions. The kid's aunt had been there to support Haley after her divorce, but the witness protection had lasted several months and, at that age, tastes changed very quickly. And besides, he had to keep his feelings to himself. His role was to reassure his offspring, not to frighten or further traumatize him. So, she imagined him with the same fake smile he'd presented to them before they'd discovered there was tension in the air between him and Haley. A mask that didn't prevent from falling prey to vivid emotions that crushed insides, oppressed chests, or tightened throats. He was in pain, of course, but he was forbidden to show it.

When the suspect was arrested, she was the first at the foot of the ramp leading to the jet. She hadn't really unpacked; her bag had been ready for the flight home since day one. She said nothing throughout the journey, deep in thought. No one held it against her, as they were all pensive. She wanted to go straight to his place to check on him, but had to dodge Spencer – who would take the same route as her – and find a good excuse for him to let her in. There was no question of sleeping with him, or what or whom, but only of checking how he was doing and, perhaps, providing a listening ear. He would probably need to talk.

To try to cloud the issue, she went home first, giving Reid time to reach his place, before returning to her car. She parked in the nearest parking lot, walked up the corridor and listened for a moment through the door. The TV was on, showing a cartoon she couldn't identify; but that was all. No adults spoke. The multi-graduate must have wanted to give him some space.

She rang the bell, a little stressed, and waited. She heard a rustle behind the door, a sign that the tenant must be peering through the peephole. She smiled and raised her hand to greet him. The door opened and Aaron appeared behind it. He looked tired, but in better shape than she'd feared. He allowed her to enter, and she immediately noticed the little head protruding from the back of the couch, turned towards her.

“Jack, you remember Emily,” started his father, stroking his hair. “She’s working with me.”

“Hi, buddy,” she reacted, giving him her best smile.

She had had the opportunity to meet the toddler on the day of his father's audition. While the latter was being questioned by other federal agents, the little one stayed with the team, who had done everything they could to make sure he had a good day.

“Do you say “hello”?”

“Hello, Emily,” he trumpeted happily.

Clearly, seeing another FBI agent – or another human being – than his progenitor filled him with joy. So much so, in fact, that he completely ignored the gesticulations of the members of the Justice League as they continued their adventures on the small screen. He even left the sofa to walk around it and rush over to her to take her in his arms. She smiled, touched by this mark of affection, and returned his hug. Aaron was looking at them without saying anything. Then he detached himself from her and resumed his seat.

“Would you like something to drink?” resumed the unit chief.

“W… water will be good.”

He headed for the kitchen, and she followed in his footsteps. If they were going to talk, it had to be as far away from children's ears as possible. He handed her a glass, which she took. They then sat down on either side of the dining table.

“Did you solve the case?”

She was surprised by such a down-to-earth question, and then thought it might be better to talk about neutral subjects while Jack was awake.

“Yes. The… bad guy is locked up.”

“What was the issue?”

She then explained what they'd been up against, watering down her story as much as possible or using the most technical terms available, so that their neighbor wouldn't understand what she was talking about. Her superior questioned her on two or three details of the investigation but didn't offer any negative criticism. He even congratulated her.

“How did it go for you?” she dared to ask.

“Strauss came to talk to me.”

“Strauss? What did she want?”

He then told her about her proposal for early retirement, insidiously pointing out that all this was perhaps a sign that it was now time for him to step aside and be a father worthy of the name. He added that he had once suggested to his boss that she was a bad mother. Emily worried on the spot about the answer he might have given her, not having considered that he might never return.

He had discussed the matter with Jessica, who had come to lend a hand, and had arrived to the conclusion that the time had not yet come for him to hand in his plate. She was relieved to hear it but made sure not to get too enthusiast. The last thing she wanted was for him to think he was only valuable to her because he was the agency manager. In truth, she didn't really care; it was just that if he left the BAU, she'd have less opportunity to see him.

She wanted to follow up with a question about his relationship with Jack, but he went to his father's level to tell him that he was starving. Aaron looked at his watch. It was past seven. So, there was nothing unusual about his request.

“What do you want to eat?” inquired Hotch, leaning towards the boy, his huge hands around the boy's tiny ones.

“Raviolis!”

“Like yesterday?”

“Yes!”

Aaron nodded, but she guessed he would have preferred a different menu. But given the context, he couldn't see himself refusing him anything.

“Okay. Let’s see if there’s any left in the cupboards.”

He placed a kiss on his son's cheek, stood up and lifted the kid as if he weighed nothing before cradling him against his hip. The little boy seemed to enjoy the improvised ride very much, and wrapped his chubby arms around the neck of his means of locomotion at once. Emily smiled, touched by this domestic scene. Reassured, too, that there was no enmity or mistrust between them. Jack wasn't afraid of his father and naturally turned to him when he needed something.

“I do!” she heard him exclaim as they reached the hanging furniture.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

The youngster took advantage of his high perched position to grab the door knobs and pull them towards him. Aaron made sure neither of them caught the shutter in the face as it passed. They repeated the operation twice before finding what they were looking for. The child was delighted to unearth a pair of cans of his precious dinner.

“Raviolis, it’s fine for you?”

“Y… Yes,” she was slow to reply, deep in contemplation. “It’s… perfect.”

It certainly wouldn't be the best meal of her life, but she'd had worse and that wasn't what really mattered. That the giant considered her staying to eat with them was worth the sacrifice of taste. He soon laid Jack back on the ground and the latter galloped towards her. He planted himself right next to her chair and turned his brilliant gaze on her. The profiler felt like an angel fallen from heaven.

“You’re arresting bad guys too?”

“Yes. Like your dad.”

“Do you have a badge?”

“Yes. Do you want to see it?”

He shook his head sharply and Emily's smile widened. The innocence of her miniature interlocutor lightened the weight on her shoulders. She inwardly congratulated herself on having taken her nameplate with her before leaving home and showed it to him. He was immediately amazed, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. She handed it to him, and he looked at it from every angle, comparing it with his sire's, which he already seemed to know by heart. Then he gave her back her property, pushed a chair next to hers – as close as possible – and climbed onto it, the tip of his tongue protruding from his lips. Once settled, his little legs dangling in the air, he bombarded her with questions, about her work, a little, but mostly about her. What was her surname, where were her parents, did she have any siblings, where was she born, etc. All this with a liveliness that reassured her that he was in good health.

                They dined, listening mainly to Jack's adventures. Emily noticed, however, that Aaron had served himself the smallest portion of the three, and worried about this until the kid pushed his plate away, pretending he wasn't hungry anymore – although he did find room for a yoghurt and some fruit – and the titan took care of finishing his dish. They then moved to the couch to watch two episodes of an animated series. The kid negotiated for a third, but found himself up against a wall which, for once, didn't give way. Ruminating, he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth under the watchful eye of the colossus. She remained in the living room, her anxiety resurfacing. Once the child had gone to bed, what would happen? Would he just kick her out? Would he agree to talk? What decision would he take?

                Nevertheless, this crossroads came sooner than expected. Aaron emerged from the shower room in time for Jack to relieve himself and approached her. The fatigue that weighed on him was obvious. His only desire was to go to bed. She realized that he was only standing because his son was still awake and might need his help. She felt a twinge of guilt and a furious will to give him a hug.

“What's the plan?” he questioned in a low voice.

She hesitated and went:

“Don’t let you sleep alone. … If you wish to.”

He looked at her, stared away and nodded subtly. She would have liked to stroke his arm to thank him for this favor, but Jack called him and he moved away again. He left the room shortly afterwards and accompanied his offspring to his bedroom. He stayed there for what seemed to Emily an infinite time. She could hear him talking and exchanging with the cherub's high-pitched little voice, then the dialogue dried up and he finally fell silent. She deduced that his listener had sunk. As if to confirm this, the head of the agency reappeared, it seemed, even more marked. He brought her a fresh toothbrush, a clean towel and an outfit consisting of one of his T-shirts and a pair of shorts with a drawstring – she hadn't taken anything for the night.

“I've brought you the smallest thing I own,” he said sheepishly.

“It'll be just fine,” she assured him as she picked it up.

She locked herself in the bathroom to get ready, asking herself a thousand questions. Obviously, he wasn't going to force her to sleep on the sofa, but besides that, he continued to be so formal with her even though Jack wasn't there to hear them. The mood was clearly not one of frolicking, and she knew that nothing would happen between them this evening. So what was going to arrived once they were side by side in bed? Were they going to have to sleep in the dead silence? Was she going to be allowed to touch him? To kiss him? She longed for nothing more. She missed the warmth of his skin. The softness of his lips too. She missed him.

                She found him sitting on the mattress, in an outfit similar to hers – he floated less than she did in it – and he asked her which side she preferred to sleep on. She chose the right-hand side and walked around the box spring. Within moments, they found themselves partially covered by the quilt – up to their hips – facing each other. He looked like he’d aged ten years.

“Are you okay?”

He started to answer in the affirmative, but a tear rolled down his pillow. She had to restrain herself to keep from crying back. It wasn't what he needed. He needed support and comfort. She caressed his face and he took hold of her hand, immobilizing it on his cheek. He barely held her, but she didn't try to escape. He closed his eyes, seeming to savor the contact between them. Another tear escaped, then a third, and the floodgates opened. Shaking with silent sobs, he clung to that palm resting on him, unable to regain control of himself. Emotional, Emily freed herself to move closer to him and hold him in her arms.

                Soon, he was snuggled up against her chest, clinging to her T-shirt, giving free rein to the pain he felt. She herself had tears in her eyes, but didn't care in the least. With her fingers in his brown hair, she would whisper soothing words to him and, on occasion, place a kiss on his skull. She did so well that he fell asleep like a rock after a while, still curled up against her. She didn't push him away, enjoying this long-lost closeness. She kissed him again and then her eyelids closed.

                Only to reopen an hour later when more distant cries roused her from her slumber. Aaron was still in dreamland beside her and didn't seem to have picked up on Jack's complaints. Emily hesitated to shake him off, and then told herself she needed to rest. So she slowly extricated herself from his embrace and slipped out of the sheets. Discreetly, she left the room and made her way up the corridor towards the glow of the nightlight. The little boy was sitting on the mattress, his legs under his Spiderman comforter, and his cheeks were red and wet. He immediately stretched his arms out in front of him when he saw her, demanding a hug that would put an end to his fears. She was surprised that he'd consider her a potential helper when they barely knew each other, but thought no further of it.

                She came and sat down beside him, and he threw himself into her arms, where he wept for a few minutes. She followed her instincts, stroking his back and hair as she spoke.

“You had a nightmare?”

“Yes,” he gurgled into her neck.

“It’s nothing. It has passed. It was just a bad dream, it’s gone now.”

She didn't dare ask him what his brain had imagined, fearing it might have something to do with recent events. In which case, chances were it would come back to haunt him for some time to come. She continued to rock him until he calmed down. He weighed heavily on her thighs, but she didn't find the situation unpleasant. Even though she wasn't very comfortable with children, she didn't feel like getting rid of him or running away. This little fellow, who caused her as much pain as his father, needed all her attention.

“Where is Dad?” he questioned her, still slumped on her shoulder.

“He’s sleeping. Well, he was asleep when I came to see you,” she corrected, realizing how insensitive her first answer had sounded. “Do you want us to go and see if he’s awake?”

Jack moved his head and she assumed it was a yes.

“Are you taking the blankie?”

He wriggled to retrieve what looked like a scarf and then returned to nestle against her. She struggled to her feet – despite his small size, the child was quite heavy – and walked in her own footsteps. The light under the door to the master bedroom told her that the giant had emerged in the meantime. She laid the toddler back on the bed and he hurried into his father's open arms, which then closed around him. And so they remained entwined, Aaron kissing and reassuring him as she had done, before the kid naturally lay down beside his progenitor. The latter was about to do the same when he noticed her presence. She was still standing in front of the door, unsure of what to do now that the pair had reunited. She had the feeling of being too much. But the manager encouraged her to come and take her place, and with a smile on her face, she obeyed.

                When she settled on the mattress, his back was to her, as he was entirely oriented towards Jack, curled up against his chest, and she felt tiny. But she wasn't frightened, just impressed. She turned off the light on his command and the whole room was plunged into darkness. She would have liked to take advantage of the darkness to touch him, to graze him, to show him that she was still there for him; but she was afraid of overstepping the boundaries. The moment the two boys were sharing was a private one, and she didn't feel she had any right to interfere. Except that Aaron's hand came looking for her, groping in her direction. Smiling, she intertwined her fingers with his. He grabbed them, dragged her arm over his side and kept her hand as close to him as possible. She was delighted to be included in his intimate sphere. She kissed the back of his neck and he briefly pressed her phalanges in return.

___

First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/757694774493986816/just-a-booty-call-1?source=share

Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/765304912176381952/just-a-booty-call-13-end?source=share

[devildomditzy]

Devildomditzy’s Road to 2K 🎉🎊🎈

We’re almost at 2,000 besties! That’s a fuck ton of people. We could rent out a Dave and Busters and probably and still not have enough room. So, to celebrate, we’re gonna do a 20 sentences prompt challenge!

These will most likely be drabbles unless one (or a few) get me carried away.

Rules: Send in a character + two emojis + a sentence

For example: Mammon + ☔️💐 + “Stop, I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

I’ll try my best to make something coherent for you!

As always, my Mammon bias will probably be showing 👀. Please only send in the Brothers + the Dateables + Luke (who is strictly platonic). I haven’t gotten to the other three’s part in the main storyline so I don’t know enough about them :’). You can specify if you’d prefer it to be nsfw, but if you request it your age MUST be in your bio.

Everything will be tagged #dddroadto2kevent

I’m not putting a time limit in this at the moment! Going to write them as I can (and hopefully actually finish the event this time LMAO).

List below! Only one character per prompt, no prompt will be done twice! I’ll update as they’re taken.

If this flops you never saw it!!!

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Are you afraid to die?” - Mammon 🥺💛

“I feel at home when I’m with you.”

“Stop, I’m supposed to be mad at you.” Satan 🥺📚

“Please just let me take care of you.”

“Do you remember when we first met?” - Mammon 🤗💐

“I don’t really know why I care about you.”

“Was that supposed to be a pick-up line?”

“What the hell happened to you?”

“I need you beside me.” - Mammon ❤️‍🩹🥺

“I can’t take you seriously.” - Diavolo 🍨👹

“Make sure you come back to me.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Stop apologizing, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Is that my jacket?”

“When I get home, you’re so dead.”

“Stop calling me that.” - Belphie 🐏🐄

“Wait. Am I your lock screen?” - Mammon 🫣⛈️

“Did…Did you just bite me?” - Mammon 😶❤️‍🩹

“You can hold my hand if you’re scared”