#and she’s done it before but now she’s doing it a lot more and it’s ruining the floor in my apartment so

[keeryhours]

please don’t go, i love you so - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby daddy! Rafe

Summary:

When you get in a serious accident, Rafe’s true feelings are left staring him in the face.

Requested

Warnings:

Lots of drama and angst, language, serious car accident, medical stuff, talk of TBIs, broken bones, and other injuries

Word Count: 4k

A/N:

Had to do research for this one, but I’m definitely no expert on medical stuff so forgive me if I get something wrong 🥲 Requests are open! BD Rafe requests can be anywhere in the timeline, past, future, smut, fluff, or angst :) Other OBX (or ST) requests also very welcome. I hope you enjoy this one!

let me know if you want to be on any tag lists :)

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

—

“Iris, please, baby, we’ve got to get your shoes on.”

“No!” the toddler yelled back, running circles around the living room.

You were out of energy. You sat on the couch, your face in your hands, as she continued to run and you tried to clear your head and just breathe.

It had been a long day. A bad day. Iris had been absolutely wild, endless energy and more attitude in her nearly 2 year old self than you thought possible. And it didn’t help that JJ was out with the pogues, so you didn’t even have any backup. It was 7pm, nearing her bedtime, and this had been your whole day. You were over it.

Everything had been a fight with her all day, but the current one was getting her dressed for pickup. It was Rafe’s weekend, and he’d be pulling up any second. You didn’t feel too thrilled about seeing Rafe right now, either.

Things had been complicated with Rafe. You felt like it was a constant back and forth with him, especially recently. Not about co-parenting, never about Iris - you knew you were lucky that the two of you got along so well when it came to parenting your daughter. It was feelings that got tricky.

You didn’t even know how you felt about Rafe yourself. On one hand, you knew you loved him. You’d always love him. But just because you loved him didn’t mean you should be together. You could never forget the toxic situation your relationship had been. Constant fighting, endless tears, trust issues and anger problems.

That’s not even to mention the way he would act around you lately. He was hot and cold. Sometimes he acted all affectionate, kissing and touching you, fucking you, like you’d never broken up in the first place. Other times he was cold and withdrawn. It left you feeling confused, like emotional whiplash, and you were honestly tired of it.

You debated on letting yourself have a quick cry, but quickly wrote that off as you thought of how humiliating it would be to answer the door to Rafe with your face all red and puffy from crying. You took a second to collect yourself, before putting the Mom pants back on.

“Iris Elaine Cameron,” you said sternly, standing from the couch.

The little girl came to a stop, looking up at you with a big grin on her face, totally oblivious to your frustration. The sight of her angelic face softens you immediately, of course. She had her light brown hair up in tiny pigtails, dressed in one of the many outfits Rafe had bought her. Some designer brand dress, not that you had any idea about that or thought it made much sense to dress a toddler in such expensive clothes. She looked cute, though.

You held up her Mary Jane shoes. “Are you gonna let Mommy put your shoes on so Daddy can come pick you up?” you asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Her little face lit up with joy. “Dada! Dada!”

Your heart clenched in your chest. Iris had been a total Daddy’s Girl since day 1 - and Rafe was completely wrapped around her little finger - but sometimes the reminder of him hit you especially hard.

At the promise of seeing her dad soon, Iris happily hopped over to you. You smiled as you lifted her onto your lap and slid her shoes on, buckling them. “There. See? All done,” you said. Iris held her palms out and twisted them, baby sign language for all done, which made you giggle. When you had read the articles and brought it up to Rafe, he had thought teaching her sign language as an infant was dumb. But it actually ended up being extremely helpful since she couldn’t communicate with words yet.

“Book?” she asked you, and you knew exactly what she wanted - her favorite book, Where the Wild Things Are. She’d have you read it 50 times a day if you’d do it. You smiled as you reached over to unzip the diaper bag, pulling the book out. She broke into a huge grin just at the sight of it.

You opened the beloved book and began to read to her, making her giggle with the different voices you’d do for the monsters. Her favorite part was always when you or Rafe would read the line “Oh please don’t go - we’ll eat you up - we love you so!” while attacking her with kisses and tickles. She laughed so hard every time.

When the book was finished, you closed it and slipped it back in the bag to go to her dad’s. She pouted like she was about to throw a fit if you didn’t read it again. “Uh uh. You’re gonna have to wait until Daddy reads it tonight.” You leaned in, rubbing your nose against hers, making her giggle.

You sat Iris down on the ground at the exact time you heard the front door opening. You raised your eyebrows knowingly at Iris, who’s eyes went wide in the direction of the hallway. You both knew perfectly well who it was.

Rafe sauntered into the living room, sunglasses sitting on his face despite the sun already beginning to set. His bored expression was immediately replaced by a huge grin as he saw his daughter.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said, lifting her into his arms as she squealed with delight.

You avoided eye contact with Rafe, busying yourself around the living room as you made sure everything Iris needed that he didn’t already have at his place was packed in her diaper bag. Once you were satisfied, you approached Rafe with the bag, handing it over. He took it from you with a curious expression.

“You’re being weird,” he said, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head.

You ignored him, leaning over to give Iris a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, baby. I’ll see you Sunday night, okay?”

Rafe doesn’t take his eyes off you, like he’s examining you inside and out. “What’s your deal?”

You sighed - you already felt defeated and exhausted going into this encounter, you didn’t really want to do this tonight. “Nothing. Everything is fine.”

But Rafe knows you better than anyone.

He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at you. “This is because I took Briana on another date, isn’t it?”

You felt your skin turn ice cold at the accusation, your defenses building themselves high. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”

The slightest smirk dances across his lips as he sits a wiggling Iris back on the ground, his eyes never leaving yours. “That is why you’re mad.”

You huffed an incredulous laugh as you crossed your arms and looked away from him, watching Iris start dragging everything you’d just cleaned up out of the toy box again, paying no mind to the two of you. “I’m not mad. And if I was, I have much better things to be upset about than who you choose to stick your dick into,” you hissed back at him.

Rafe barked out a laugh, looking up at the ceiling as he did like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. “You are so full of shit.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Get out, Rafe. I’ll see you Sunday.”

He watched you for a minute longer as you both stood there in silence. Finally he let out a big sigh, running a hand over his face. “You’re such a bitch sometimes, you know that?”

You didn’t acknowledge the comment as he moved to lift Iris into his arms again, her bag slung over his shoulder. You followed him to the front door, ready to shut him out as soon as possible, but as soon as he stepped over the threshold, he turned back to you.

“You know, it’s none of your business who I see. We’re not together. You’re not my girl.”

You just looked at him, his words cutting far deeper and harder than you wanted to admit. “Same goes for you too, Rafe,” you said, thinking of the multiple times Rafe’s temper and jealousy had ruined one of your dates. Half the island was scared to even look at you because of him. It was fucking annoying.

Rafe scoffed. He shook his head one more time with that stupid grin on his face. “I’ll see you Sunday,” he said, and then he was walking off towards his truck.

You didn’t linger. You shut the door as soon as he stepped away, leaning against the wood as you took a deep, shaky breath. God, you hated that arrogant asshole sometimes.

You wallowed in your despair on the couch for a while that night, switching between various shows, none of them catching your interest. Eventually you think what’s the point, and decide to just go to bed early. You might as well take advantage of the sleep without having to worry about getting up early.

—

You hoped you would feel better the next day.

You didn’t.

You made breakfast for you and JJ, not something you typically do when Iris was at Rafe’s, but you felt like pancakes. And JJ certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“You look depressed,” JJ pointed out helpfully through a mouthful of pancake as you sat at the small dining table across from him.

You glared at him over your plate before eating a bite of your own breakfast. JJ held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay. Touchy subject this morning, I see.”

As much as you loved your twin brother, you were relieved when he picked up his surf board after breakfast and told you he was going out. You didn’t exactly feel up to company.

With JJ gone, you attempted to stay busy around the house, but once everything was cleaned to perfection, you found yourself standing in the silent living room, feeling like you had no idea what to do with yourself. What was wrong with you, you thought. The place was always too quiet without Iris.

You needed a drive to clear your head.

You snatched your keys from the side table and left the house, still dressed in the tank top and athletic shorts you’d been cleaning the house in. You just wanted to drive around the island for a while, you weren’t really going anywhere, so you didn’t care how you looked.

You turned on your favorite sad playlist and sang at the top of your lungs to songs about love and broken hearts and pain. You felt pretty silly, but this was your time, your coping mechanism, and you weren’t going to feel bad about it.

Fuck Rafe Cameron. And not in the way you usually did.

You drove with the windows down, the salty breeze whipping through your hair, cooling your skin. You felt yourself starting to feel lighter.

You didn’t see the truck barreling faster than the speed limit around the corner. No one even had time to lay on the horn. You didn’t see or feel anything except a brief flash of pain and then - nothing.

—

“Wow! That’s beautiful, baby.”

Rafe lifted up the piece of paper covered in crayon scribbles, examining it like it was on display at The Louvre. It was the fifth one he’d been given since he sat on the floor with Iris, crayons and paper spread out all around them. Each piece of art went in a stack to be displayed somewhere in the house.

He watched his daughter as she picked up the green jumbo crayon and began roughly scribbling it across another blank page. The same big smile he always had around Iris was spread across his face. Nothing made him happier than spending time with her.

Rafe was caught off guard by the sound of his phone ringing loudly in his pocket. He sighed as he pulled it out, expecting to see either Topper or Kelce forgetting it was his weekend with Iris. But his eyebrows furrowed as he saw it was JJ calling him. JJ never called or texted him. They only had each other’s numbers in case of emergency.

Rafe felt a jolt of pure fear deep in his chest.

He answered the call, tentatively bringing the phone to his ear. “Maybank?” he answered.

He felt the nausea spread over him like a tidal wave when JJ spoke your name in his panicked voice. It was you. God, something bad had happened to you.

“S-slow down,” Rafe said, holding his shaking hand out in front of him as if JJ could see. Pure panic was spreading and growing through every vein in his body. “What…what happened?”

JJ’s voice was shaking too as he spoke. Rafe could tell he was pacing, probably pulling at his messy blonde hair as he did. “She- it was a truck. Guy was speeding and hit her head-on. Her car is totaled, they…they haven’t even let me see her yet. I don’t even know if she’s okay. Fuck, I shouldn’t have left this morning. Fuck!”

Rafe couldn’t even process JJ blaming himself for something that definitely wasn’t his fault, because he was doing the same thing. He had been a total asshole to you last night. The idea that that could possibly have been the last conversation he’ll ever have with you has him feeling like he’s going to be sick on the floor.

“I’m on my way,” Rafe said simply, and then he was hanging up the call, shoving his phone in his pocket and climbing to his feet.

Sarah was happy to watch Iris as Rafe grabbed his keys and sprinted to his truck, with promises to text her about your condition as soon as he knew anything at all. He probably would have been driving 15 over the speed limit if he wasn’t so disgustingly reminded of the dangers of the road. Instead he drove as fast as he safely could, a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel as he clenched his jaw tightly.

His head was spinning as he rushed into the hospital, looking around the waiting room for any sign of JJ. He didn’t see the blonde boy anywhere. He approached the receptionist desk instead, urgently giving your name to the tired looking receptionist.

“She’s in the Neuro ICU, room 5,” the receptionist said. Rafe felt his breath hitch - the fucking ICU? “We only allow two visitors at a time, and it’s immediate family only,” she continued. “You are…?”

Rafe hesitated. “Uh…I’m her boyfriend,” he said the first thing that came to mind. “But we have a child together. Please.”

The receptionist eyed him for a moment, before nodding, giving him a sympathetic look. She printed a visitor’s badge for him and handed it over. He thinks she said something about wishing you the best, but all he could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears as he mindlessly walked towards the elevators.

The last time Rafe had been in a hospital was for Iris’ birth, decidedly a much happier occasion. He felt out of place and awkward as he walked through the quiet, sterile halls, following signs pointing him where he wanted to go.

When he reached the ICU and approached room 5, he froze. He had never felt so scared in his life, he thought. He didn’t know if he could do this.

But you needed him.

He slid the glass door open, a flash of blonde hair peeking from around the privacy curtain where JJ was sitting. Rafe mustered all the strength he had to walk forward into the room. JJ looked up at him as he entered, but his eyes were immediately drawn to you as his heart shattered in his chest.

He clasped his hands behind his head as he took in the scene in front of him. He was holding off a panic attack as tears welled in his eyes. You were there on the bed, and you looked so utterly broken that it made Rafe feel like he couldn’t breathe. You were hooked up to an IV, about a million monitors mostly over your chest and head, a cast on an arm and one on a leg, a ventilator.

Rafe’s shaky legs practically gave out then, his body collapsing in the empty chair by your bedside. He was terrified to look at you, knowing he was going to start crying harder if he did. He looked at JJ instead, who looked equally wrecked, his eyes red from crying.

JJ gave Rafe the rundown the doctor had just given him. Traumatic brain injury, broken bones in your left arm and leg. You hadn’t regained consciousness at all since the accident. Things were still up in the air, nothing the doctors would say brought Rafe any comfort. They didn’t know about surgery yet, they didn’t know how long it would take you to recover, hell, they couldn’t even say if you’d be the same when you woke up.

When Rafe finally worked up the courage to be close to you, to actually look at you - he didn’t know his heart could break like this. Your normally smooth, perfect skin that he loved to trace his fingertips over because of the way you’d react to his touch, was now covered in deep bruises. Your face - that beautiful face he always adored so much, the one he fell in love with back in junior high - bruised and lacerated. He couldn’t even tell himself you were just peacefully napping. You looked like hell.

The next weeks were long and difficult. Iris stayed with the Cameron’s, and while Rafe spent every second he could drag himself away from your bedside spending it with her, he didn’t leave the hospital much at all. He grew used to sleeping in the world’s most uncomfortable chair.

Your recovery was truly a miracle. You didn’t end up needing brain surgery, but they kept you monitored for weeks. You did suffer a pretty bad TBI, and you had surgery to repair the broken bones in your arm and leg. The ventilator was removed first, which Rafe was the most relieved about, because that terrified him more than anything else.

When you finally woke up, Rafe was the first thing you saw.

The second he noticed your eyes fluttering open, Rafe was bolting up straight in his chair, his hand gently cupping your cheek with a barely-there touch as he whispered your name.

“R…Rafe?” you had croaked, voice raspy and dry from disuse and the ventilator tube being down your throat. Rafe called the nurses immediately, and multiple examinations, a plastic hospital jug of ice water, and some heavy pain meds later, you were feeling…okay.

JJ was there for most of the day like he was every day he didn’t have work. He actually cried when he showed up and saw you awake, which surprised Rafe because he didn’t even seem embarrassed about it. He just embraced you as gently as possible so as not to hurt you, and it was clear you were equally as happy to see him. There was that twin bond, something Rafe found a little weird (especially when the two of you would communicate without even talking) but also…endearing.

Recovery was a long road, and it was a lot of hard work, but the doctors were confident in your ability to return to normal in time. You had to work on your memory, your speech. Physical therapy took up most of your days. But Rafe knew you were strong, and you showed him every day. Even Iris got to visit as often as she could, but you didn’t want her in a hospital for too long so she wouldn’t get sick.

Rafe sat by your side late at night, gently brushing his fingers through your hair as you laid with your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling. Your hospital stay was finally almost over. You’d be coming home tomorrow, staying with the Camerons so you had the help.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. You were happy, but his behavior was confusing to you at the same time. “You’re being weirdly sweet,” you said with a teasing smile.

Rafe looked away from your eyes. “Yeah…well.”

The two of you sat with that silence for a while. You knew there was plenty he wasn’t saying, and you wondered if he would.

Rafe reached forward and traced a finger along your cheek, over your jaw line. The cuts and bruises on your face were mostly healed now, and you were endlessly grateful when they told you they didn’t expect any lasting scarring. His light touch sent a shiver through your body.

When Rafe finally spoke again, he sounded different than you had ever heard him. His voice was weak, broken. “Don’t do that to me again.”

Your face fell as you looked at him - really looked at him - and saw the pain hidden deep behind his blue eyes. Obviously you knew none of this was your fault, but you felt terrible for what you’d put your loved ones through all the same.

“I’m sorry-“ you began to say, but Rafe shook his head.

“Do you understand that I love you?” he said, his voice choked up as tears welled in those deep eyes. The words hit you like a physical blow, you felt yourself moving back as you looked him in the face. “I don’t give a fuck about Briana, or any other girl on this island compared to you. And it’s not just ‘we were together for a while and you’re the mother of my daughter so I’ll always love you’,” he continued, like the words were spilling out of his mouth faster than he could control. “No, like, I love you.”

He was looking you so intensely in the eyes that it took your breath away. You felt tears in your own eyes, falling down your cheeks before you could do anything about it. “Rafe…” you breathed out, you didn’t know what else to say. You weren’t even sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Maybe we could…maybe we could try again,” he said, the hope audible in his voice. “A…relationship?”

You let out a long shaky exhale. “I…” You searched your brain for the right words to say, searched your chest for how you really felt. “We…it’s never worked, Rafe, we never-“

“Do you love me?”

The question caught you completely off guard. “What?”

“Do you love me?” he repeated simply. “I told you how I felt. I need to know how you really feel.”

You swallowed. “I love you, Rafe,” you said, your voice small. “I’ve always loved you. But it’s still never worked for us.”

Rafe clasped both your smaller hands in his, being gentle with your cast. “I’m serious this time, baby. This is…things are different.” He held intense eye contact with you as he spoke, and you could see the genuine emotion swirling behind his eyes. “I’ve had a taste of what life would be like without you, and I don’t wanna go through that again.”

You had no control whatsoever as the tears started to fall down your face faster, a sob escaping from your throat. Rafe pulled you into the tightest gentle hug he could manage, his large hand combing through your smooth hair as you cried into his chest. He was a little panicked, he didn’t know if he had said something wrong to upset you. He didn’t want to make you sad anymore.

When you pulled back, Rafe wiped the tears from your face. He traced his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. His gaze flicked up to your eyes, back to your mouth, and then he was leaning in to press the softest kiss to your lips. When he broke the kiss and looked into your eyes again, he could see the mix of emotions swirling behind them. He wished he could read what you were thinking.

He grabbed your good hand with his own, intertwining your fingers. “You don’t have to decide anything now. You have plenty else to worry about. Just…think about it for me?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand in yours, which gave him some reassurance. You didn’t know what your decision would be, but you wanted to make sure you made the right one. For you, for Rafe, and for Iris.

“I love you,” you whispered to him.

His lips turned up in a smile. “I love you too.”

[ram-bles]

Hello! Is it okay if you can write mouthwashing headcannons of how the crew members would react to the reader randomly attacking them with kisses? If you want to stick with one person, then I was thinking, Anya? (If you want someone else, then that's okay too!)

Have a great day/afternoon/night

tulpar crew x gn!reader

smooch attack headcanons.

⚠️ pushy jimmy. everything else is chill. not proof read.

[note: sorry I've been out for long everyone! I had some stuff come up but I'm doing some progress on the things you guys send! I hope you enjoy these imagines]

[ Anya ]

🟦 giggling mess if done right

🟦 if you do it, please don't jump her.

🟦 sth like swooping in first before kissing her. small signals that it's you.

Her eyes were glued onto the shelf, searching for that one book she needed. It was usually there. Did I misplace it?

Her thoughts were immediately silenced by a hand taking hers, swift yet carefully. Her body tensed up by instinct but when she realized it was you, it had her giggling as you planted soft kisses on her knuckles. You raise the book that you hid from your back while you entered.

"Sorry! I was reading it earlier."

"I don't mind at all, don't worry."

Anya shakes her head with a smile and cups your cheek and you beam. That was one of the small signals she gave that says she's fine with this. She brushes your cheek for a moment as you lean in to her touch, then you feel her carefully tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. You immediately wrap your arms around her waist and lean in for a kiss- kisses. Lots of them. You start off on her cheek, then her nose, her eyelids, her forehead, then a peck to her lips and she was softly laughing the whole time, both from the affection and how ticklish it was.

[ Curly ]

🩹 Not a fan of PDA either. you gotta do it when you both get privacy.

🩹 So you do it with every chance you get.

You spot Jimmy lingering back at the lounge without your beloved Captain? You're beelining towards the cockpit.

Alone in the kitchen? You're on him.

Hallways? Oh, Captai—in!

Even if he scolds and chastises you for it, he loves it. He does the same anyways. One time though, you were both in the lounge reading together when you eventually got bored. You peek at your partner who was heavily invested at the article when suddenly the item gets pushed away and replaced by you on his lap. Before he could even warn you, you grabbed his face and showered him with kisses. Curly gives in and hugs you, it should be alright since no one's here, right? He'll let it slide for now.

When you part, he had a stupid grin on his face.

"Darling, have I ever taught you how to aim?"

With a chuckle, you shake your head and you both lean in for a kiss.

"How does a lesson tonight in your quarters sound, Captain?"

"Perhaps we could reschedule for an earlier time. How does right now sound?"

"Perfect."

[ Daisuke ]

🌺 Usually, it's him who does the guerilla attacks. It's a little game you guys play. The more of a surprise kiss streak you have, the better.

🌺 So far he's on the lead, but not for long.

You had to borrow Anya's lipstick for this. Carefully planned this siege (it only took like 10 minutes). Daisuke had just finished doing inventory, Swansea's back in utility and you're by the storage closet by the hallway and you hear familiar footsteps. In approximately 5.0224 seconds, your target is going to pass by the said storage room aka your location right now. You brace for it, nervous. You push your doubts that it was another person for now and just go for it.

Slamming your partner onto the wall as he squeals, you shut the door and yank on the string to turn the light on. It was dim but you could see the look on his face and you burst out laughing.

"Dude, I thought we had some psycho hiding up in here! I thought I was gonna die!"

"Yeah, you will."

"Fuck you mean by tha— mpFfF?!"

Your lips smash against his and you could tell some of the lipstick smeared. His awkward tense pose loosens up and his hands move away from the walls to your hips as he returns it and you part as he tries not to chase after you.

"Got ya' good, huh?"

"Whaaaaat?" He drawls out with a voice crack, looking away. "I don't know man, you gotta do that again so we can find out." With a pffsh, you start kissing him everywhere, his beauty marks, his lips, cheeks, jaw, neck, probably even on his collar.

Next thing you know, you both pop out the storage room, Swansea looking like he almost had a heart attack while he stares at the both of you in judgement.

Daisuke had a lovestruck expression while his face, neck, and shirt collars were filled with lipstick marks and yours were smudged on your lips.

[ Jimmy ]

🔪 he hates it. he likes it so much he hates it.

🔪 prefers doing it himself though.

Shitty day as always. He wasn't in the mood and he can't bother you which made his day a whole lot worse. It's stupid, why was he so dependent over your attention. It should be the other way around.

Once you were done with your shift, you decided to find the co-pilot. At his usual thinking spot, chewing on a toothpick.

God, he needs his nicotine.

You were silent, only walking towards his way, too busy with his thoughts to even notice you. Not until you plant a kiss on his cheek and his head whips to your direction, almost bumping heads. You smile and peck his lips this time.

"You okay?"

Were you pitying him?

"Fuckin' peachy."

Suddenly, you were pressed up against the wall, caged in-between his arms and you look up at him confused. He flicks the toothpick somewhere and he starts peppering your face with kisses. It was all soft at first, not until he nips at your lip before kissing you roughly. Your lips would probably bruise later on.

[ Swansea ]

Wake rock was softly playing in the background.

🦢 this can be interpreted as romantic/familial honestly

🦢 he seems annoyed by it but in reality he thinks it's sweet. never admitting it though.

You were busy cleaning up in the utility room while Swansea was repairing some wires when he suddenly flinches and cusses loudly, shaking his hand. He got grounded. Now he's grumbling over where Daisuke was when he needed him to do the work. Probably needed to release his frustrations elsewhere by light-heartedly shit talking his intern. You knew he didn't mean it.

Tilting your head curiously, you moved closer, peeking over his shoulder to watch him work for a moment. And just when he moves his hands away from the box, you hug him from the side and kiss his cheek repeatedly.

"Jesus! Warn a man will ya'?!"

"I'm done cleaning! I'll go on break now, boss!"

"Yeah, yeah." He huffs. Unbeknownst to you, he had a small smile on his face as he continued working. Seriously, who does this to their mentor?

Kids these days.

[dadbodbuck]

could it shine down here with you?

Rating: G | WC: 1.7k | Pairing: BuckTommy

Loosely based on this post by @loulovingho!

Summary:

Tommy doesn't realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

Read it here on Ao3 or continue below!

Tommy is five, or maybe six, and he doesn’t like Thanksgiving. His dad is screaming at his mom because the turkey isn’t thawed. He’s calling her a lot of words that Tommy thinks are really mean. Tommy’s dad yells a lot, but it’s rarely this bad. Tommy’s mom usually waits for it to blow over, but this time, Tommy watches from the living room entry as her face crumbles and she shoulders past Tommy’s dad, breezes by Tommy, and flees into their bedroom.

Tommy wants to follow her, but his dad grabs his arm, too-tight, and tugs Tommy away towards where the half-thawed turkey is laying on the ground, cold and slimy. When they get there, Tommy’s dad hands him a garbage bag and a roll of paper towels and says “Your mom needs some time alone to think about what she’s done. Clean up this mess.”

It’s okay, because later his mom comes out of the bedroom and kneels down, her eyes red and puffy, and she tells him, “I’m so sorry you had to see that, honey. You did a good job cleaning the kitchen. It’s okay, we can still have dinner, even if I messed up the turkey,” and she makes Stovetop stuffing, and takes cranberry sauce out of a can, dishing them up on a plastic plate for Tommy, and a glass plate for her.

Tommy’s not sure where his dad went, but he’s glad it’s just him and his mom for a little while.

Tommy is twelve, and he hates Thanksgiving. He hates most holidays centered around football, actually. It’s a double-edged sword—his dad gets drunk, and his dad gets riled up, and he’s either too loud and happy, or too loud and mad. The Superbowl is Tommy’s least favorite time of the year. Especially when the Rams are playing.

The Rams aren’t playing this year, but that doesn’t mean Tommy’s off the hook. Tommy brings his dad beers when his dad calls for them, doesn’t say a word to his old man, carefully doesn’t flinch when his dad yells angrily at the screen.

For the most part, Tommy sits alone in his room and looks at the picture of his mom. It’s her high school graduation, she’s gleaming in her cap and gown. Tommy misses her.

Tommy knows that his family isn’t normal. That it’s fucked up. But he also knows how to deal with his dad, especially now that his mom isn’t around to instigate anymore. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen if he gets sent to foster care. He doesn’t want to know.

Tommy also knows, somewhere, that it’s partially his own fault. Maybe if he was a better kid—someone his dad could be proud of, this wouldn’t happen. He was always doing something to incur his father’s wrath. Plus, it’s not like his dad doesn’t love him, in his own way. Tommy loves his dad, too.

Tommy makes his own Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce from a can. His dad doesn’t eat it, but Tommy doesn’t care, because at least he survived Thanksgiving without any more bruises.

Tommy is eighteen, and twenty-three, and thirty-one. Thanksgiving is in a shitty barracks at the base, a tiny studio in downtown LA, and the 118 firehouse. It’s spent wolfing down an MRE, trying to figure out how to get his horrible stove to work, and eating Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce and praying that the alarm doesn’t go off. There are the other soldiers, and Tommy’s rescue cat Teddy, and Howie.

The MRE is as it always is. You get used to the weird textures and instant coffee and chemical heat smell of the food warmer. The funny thing about Iraq, the thing that will keep Tommy awake for years and years, is that it gets cold during the winter. Tommy knew before he shipped out that he didn’t know what much about the country, but now that he’s here, he’s stuck with sick realization after sick realization. The people here are scared, and the Army isn’t helping. Tommy looks at the other soldiers in a way he shouldn’t. Civilians are dying. War is messy in a way that allows people to excuse inexcusable violence. Tommy cannot speak the language, of either the Iraqi citizens or the people he was told would be his brothers. Iraq gets cold during the winter.

Teddy is an orange beauty, with long fluffy fur and a penchant for mischief. Tommy didn’t ask for Thanksgiving off, but it’s a holiday at the Academy, apparently. So, he’s here, listening to the click of the gas range as it tries to light. Teddy watches from the tiny countertop with uncharacteristic judgment in his eyes. When the flame finally catches, Tommy laughs victoriously, and gets to work making stuffing and cranberry sauce for the first time in years. It’s not gourmet by any means, just the Stovetop and the canned stuff, but it feels like his mom. It feels like he’s talking to her again. Tommy wonders if there’s a universe out there where his mom got help before it was too late. He eats his food in the camp chair that furnishes his pathetic living room, with Teddy invading his personal space and trying to sneak a bite for himself.

Tommy keeps the tradition of making himself Stovetop and canned cranberry sauce. He keeps it the year Howie shows up at the 118 and immediately proves himself braver and stronger than Tommy ever could be. While everyone else is busy whining about missing their grandma’s mashed potatoes, Tommy scrapes together his sacred traditional Thanksgiving feast. While Tommy’s not looking, Howie steals half of it.

“Mm!” Howie sighs, “That childhood nostalgia fakeness.”

“Hey! That was mine,” Tommy says, without any real heat. He hasn’t been able to muster anything beyond mild irritation for Howie since he saved his life.

“Oh, because you were going to eat all of that in one sitting,” Howie scoffs, “I’ll pay you back your dollar for my half if you really want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tommy huffs, scraping out the other half for his own portion. They sit at the table and eat together, and it’s the closest Tommy’s ever had to spending Thanksgiving with someone.

It’s not until they finish eating and the bell rings that Tommy realizes Howie’s the only one who hasn’t asked Tommy if he’s sad he’s missing out on the holidays.

For the most part, his Thanksgivings after the 118 are spent much the same way, but at Harbor, and alone. He gets to put his leftovers in the fridge and eat off them for a few days. Thanksgiving (save for deep fried turkey incidents) is a relatively tame holiday. No fireworks, at least.

Then, Evan.

A lot of things change for Tommy when Evan crashes into his life, all legs and a blinding smile. Evan is a whirlwind and the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen. Evan is kind of everything.

When Tommy realizes he’s falling in love, it makes him sick to his stomach. He remembers loving his dad enough to excuse his anger, loving his mom enough to let her slip away, loving a country enough to enact its violence, loving the sense of belonging at the 118 enough to allow the kindest people he’s ever met to suffer. Tommy doesn’t love right. He can’t let Evan get tired of him and leave. He can’t poison Evan until he turns into something cruel. So Tommy breaks up with him. Evan asks him to move in, and he can feel the iron jaws of a bear trap closing around his throat, so he breaks up with him.

Tommy doesn’t realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

(Thanksgiving came up between them for the first time when Evan asked if he wanted to do their own thing or go over to the grand 118 Thanksgiving Feast.

“I don’t know,” Evan has shrugged, “I mean, I want to spend it with you. I don’t want to pressure you into a big thing if you don’t want to, or if—if you’re used to smaller Thanksgivings. What does your family do for Thanksgiving?”

“Um,” Tommy had said, a little caught off-guard like he was every time they brushed up against the topic of family, “We didn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving. I usually just get a box of Stovetop stuffing and a can of cranberry sauce and call it a day.”

Evan had scoffed, mock-offended. “Well! In that case, we’re going. Mark your calendar. You’re going to cream your pants when you try Bobby’s turkey.”

Tommy had smiled and thought maybe. Maybe this will be the year.)

Tommy sighs and opens the box of Stovetop stuffing. His water and butter are already boiling, so he pours the mix in and watches it saturate. He stirs it and takes it off the heat to sit. A strange, painful sadness claws at the inside of his throat. It hurts. It hurts worse than it usually does.

He doesn’t think about Evan and Bobby’s allegedly orgasm-worthy turkey and Howie introducing Tommy to Jee-yun and how close they had all seemed at the hospital for Denny. He walks over to the mantle above his fireplace, with a small, framed pawprint inside, and Teddy 2021 written underneath.

Five minutes passes slowly without anyone to distract him. Tommy tries and fails not to think about every holiday he’s spent alone, or wishing he was alone. This is the first holiday he’s wished for someone in particular who wasn’t his mom or Teddy.

Tommy eats stuffing and canned cranberry sauce at his kitchen table. Somewhere, Evan is in a house warm with love. Somewhere, Evan is loved, wholly and unconditionally. Tommy’s glad people love him. He deserves to be loved.

Tommy doesn’t like watching football on Thanksgiving, so instead he puts on Mean Girls. After his stomach settles, he’s too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and sleep until his shift in the morning.

When Tommy gets to work, he’s surprised when Lucy says, “Delivery for you in the fridge, Kinard, you better eat it before I can get my hands on it.”

Inside the fridge is a glass Tupperware container wrapped in a plastic Chinese takeout bag. There’s a sticky note attached to it that says Bobby’s turkey is even better the next day.

Tommy texts Evan and asks about it. Evan doesn’t say anything back.

But he does get a text from Howie, and the timing is too quick to be coincidence. When you’re reheating it, remember to put half a teaspoon of water in the dish so it doesn’t dry everything out in the microwave.

[teamarine777]

The assassination had gone off without a hitch. All that was left, was the escape. "What's the plan?" Forest,'s question was in ernest. This biz was new to him. Vulpin, a seasoned veteran, looked at him like he had asked who the gods were to talk to humans like they do. "Oh my gods. Forest, I know this your first time, but please try to keep up. I had us wear fancy outfits to an assassination at a fancy party. What do you think the plan is?" Forest's brow wrinkled in that cute way it always does when he's lost the plot. "Oh! We act like we were invited, and walk out the front door," Forest exlaimed, exited he'd umderstood their out. "Give the boy a prize! Now, check to make sure the coast is clear, while I cover up our involvement with fuck face over here." Vul nodded to the body, who's face was in the cracked toilet bole, blood spilling out the fractures. Forest nodded, and slowly cracked the door. "Two rich bitches, at the sink," he whispered. "Change of plans. Make it look like he fell onto the toilet." Vulpin gave the order so matter of factly, Forest didn't even think. He just nodded. Vulpin walked out of the stall. "Hey, boys. Listen. Things are a little messy, but we're not here for you. If you just stay put-" She's cut off by the sound of swords being unsheathed. "Ugh. Why did everyone her have to be Zevans?" Forest didn't know Vulpin well, but it was obvious to most that she used rhetoric a lot. Forest was cool with it, even if it was overdone. Next, Forest heard the sounds of swords clashing, two gasps, and a sigh. After positioning the body the best he could, he peeked out of the stall. Vul was fuxing her fur using the mirror. She muttered something about a comb, then saw Forest in the mirror. "Hey, bud. You get the body done?" Forst nodded, and asked, "What's the plan for those two?" Forest pointed to the two seemingly dead men on the floor. Forest noticed they weren't bleeding, and, upon closer inspection, had bruises on their heads. "I knocked 'em out. As far as a plan goes, we need to eliminate witnesses somehow, but we can't kill 'em. It'll wreak of assassins, three rich fucks dead at a party in the night." Vul turned to Forest. "The way I see it, we've only got one option; take them with us," Forest sighed. "Can't. They'd slow us down too much. We'd have to walk through the ball with two bodies. It'll never work." V spat a little blood in the sink, washing it away. "I have an idea. It's so stupid it might work." Forest was the king of that genre of stupid. "What did you have in mind?" Vul raised an eyebrow. "I'll explain, but first, promise not to embarrass me," Forest said. "Embarrass you? I'm more high class than you could dream of being," she teased. "There's blood on your shirt," Forest chuckled, before Vul was frantically cleaning her shirt.

"Please try not to embarrass me."

"Me embarrass you? I'm more high class than you could ever hope to be."

"Uh-huh. There's blood on your shirt, by the way."

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader

"Mama."

"That's right little man. That's mama." Orion tucks his face into Simon's chest, sleepy and confused. Simon knows he doesn't understand what's happening, why his mother is asleep in a bed, asleep for days without waking, asleep and hooked up to too many machines.

"Mama!" He screeches, swinging his body backwards, and Simon has to hold him tight, trying to keep him close. Cami says he's struggling, doesn't understand why he's at their house all the time, doesn't understand what's happened to his mum. He's confused, and scared, just a little boy in a world trying to hurt him.

"She's sleeping bub. Mama is sleeping." He bows his head, breathing his son in, swallowing the rattle in his chest. "She's sleeping."

You're sinking into that bed.

It's becoming a part of you, becoming all of you, and no matter how many times they bathe you and turn you and change the sheets, you stay tethered to it. In the mornings, when he begins his watch, he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your mouth, keeping his eyes closed and wishing on nothing that yours will open.

"I'm sorry." He folds your left hand in his. They had to take the rest of your finger, all the way down due to infection, an agonizing reminder of your pain, your suffering. His failure. "I need you to wake up," he croaks in a voice he's only just learned to recognize, one filled with despair, with mourning. "You have to wake up. For Orion and the baby. For me."

He pleads. He bargains. He begs. He promises.

"I'm done now, mama. I'm done. I'll never leave you again. Never leave any of you. 'm taking a desk job, so I need you to wake up so you can be sick of me hanging around the house all day."

Still, nothing.

Once a week, your doctor wheels an ultrasound in to check on the baby. He stares at the screen with tears in his eyes, his hand covering yours.

It's a girl. A perfectly healthy little girl.

He didn't mean to find out but in the pandemonium of those first few days when they brought you here, it slipped his mind. The first time someone talked about the baby, they said her.

"Her heartbeat is strong, and there are no signs of trauma to the placenta. She's okay." 

They left the room afterwards. Left him to his ugly, rib splitting sobs. Left him to press his palm to your belly and rest his head on the bed beside you, soaking the sheets with his tears.

A girl. Your Phoenix.

Today, the doctor asks him to step outside.

"We need to discuss some potential plans of care."

"What do you mean?"

"She's close to delivering, Simon. If she doesn't wake, we'll need to do a c-section." His heart stops. That's not supposed to be for months yet. How long have you been here? 

"I thought... I thought we had more time."

"We do. Another five weeks or so, but I want to put a plan together, so you have time." Time. He needs more of it. So much more of it with you. He nods, and she gives him a sympathetic smile. "Simon, a newborn and a toddler is a lot of work. I want you to prepare for this possibility, okay?" He pushes it from his mind.

"She'll wake up before then." What the fuck does he know about these things? Nothing. But he refuses to live in a world where you miss the birth of your daughter, where you miss her first breath, her first cry, where you miss the moment where Orion holds his baby sister for the first time.

"Simon-"

"She will," he glares and she pats his shoulder before leaving him in the same spot, frozen, staring at the door to your room.

When he sinks back into his chair, resumes his post, he tugs your hand back into his.

"You'll wake up, mama. I know you will."

[vampiefemme]

modern!vi who’s down horrendous for you. she gets home from the gym, sweat-damp and sore, ready for a much-needed shower after hitting a new pr and kicking her own ass during her workout. she’s undressing in the foggy bathroom when her phone pings from the counter, your name lighting up the screen. she tosses her shirt to the side and unlocks the phone to see your message.

missing you sooo bad right now, you’ve texted her. attached is a photo of you, shirtless, with your perfectly manicured nails delicately cupping your tits. might have to touch myself… help me out?

vi scoffs at your message, but she clicks on that photo again, zooms in and analyzes it until she’s sure she’s memorized every individual pixel.

fuck, you’re perfect. fuck fuck fuck.

steam from the shower has fogged up the mirror entirely, and it’s deathly humid in the bathroom. but vi’s got a soft spot for you - she’d do anything you asked her to, even if your version of asking is merely suggesting… no, bribing. that photo was definitely a bribe.

vi messes around with a few potential angles, propping her phone up on the counter, then on the floor, even on the back of the toilet. nothing looks right, and she’s so sweaty and frustrated that she almost decides not to send you anything at all. she rips open the shower curtain, huffing an annoyed sigh before her eyes land on the shower head.

huh, that’s an idea.

fifteen minutes later, as you’re lazily dragging your fingers through your cunt, horny and annoyed that vi hasn’t texted you back, you get a notification. it’s a video, you realize with a giddy whir of excitement, and you click play without a second thought. one hand cradling your phone, the other between your thighs, you watch as vi settles the camera down on a shelf by the window. her scarlet locks are damp with sweat, droplets of water from the shower rolling down her inked skin. fuck, you’ll never get used to that body - she’s all lean muscles and sharp edges, so dangerous until she’s holding you with those calloused hands and curling her frame up against yours.

and now? she’s biting her lip, trying to make a show of trailing a hand down her abdomen - she stops short, though, reaching off to the side instead. her hand returns with the running shower head, and you draw in a sharp, excited breath. as if she could hear you, vi lets out a little chuckle and says, “i know, unexpected. i haven’t done this in years.”

she fiddles with the shower head, flicking a switch at the neck until the water flow changes to a more… optimal setting. the stream’s a lot more focused now, more intense.

“worked myself up a bit before this. hope that’s okay, princess.” vi flashes a smirk at the camera, but with her cheeks painted that pretty pink shade, you know she’s a little embarrassed. uncertain.

you’re grateful that the camera angle lets you see every detail of what vi’s doing - how her body moves. she hitches a leg up against the shower wall, just high enough to spread herself open. the soft curls between her legs are untamed and wet, and your cunt twitches at the sight of vi’s pink, pink cunt, spread beautifully - you only get one glance, though, before the silver shower head blocks your view. vi hisses through her teeth and her hips twitch. you sigh, your fingers playing in the wetness between your legs as you watch vi toss her head back in pleasure. every moan that passes her lips goes straight to your clit - you’re needy, gushing wetter every time you see vi’s tits bounce or her jaw clench.

“fuuuuck,” she cries out, her face a vision of pleasure. mouth hung open, brows knitted together, eyes foggy with lust. “gonna come, shit, baby…”

water drips from vi’s hair down to her shoulders, rolling in beads down her tense chest. she’s heaving, panting, gasping your name as her orgasm slams into her, tatted biceps flexing as she forces the shower head to stay in place. her orgasm seems to last forever, streams of water gushing from her pussy down to the shower floor - and then she’s done, spent.

it’s almost like vi forgets about the camera for a moment. she hums in pleasure, still panting a bit as she comes back down from her high. she licks her lips, then her eyes meet the camera - and oh, she looks wrecked.

“hope that’s enough material for you, pretty girl,” she says to the camera, winking playfully before the video cuts out.

[littlelamy]

Rafe x Reader request: They’ve been going on a few dates, with Rafe in the hopes to get in in her pants. Rafe has been more of a fuckboy, lots of experience, kicks girls out as soon as it’s done and have they been inexperienced – he’s kicked them out straight away before anything happens, not having any energy to ‘’teach’’. Cue to Reader and him about to get intimate, she confesses to being a virgin and he kicks her out. HOWEVER……he this time feels like absolute shit about seeing how sad she got and realizes he has fallen for her….and he tries to fix it (happy ending)

a/n: thank you for request, hope you like it!!💗

rafe cameron was never one to think much beyond the moment. he didn’t overanalyze his hookups, didn’t question why they always left with messy hair and no promises of a second date. he had a rhythm to his life, and it worked for him. girls came and went, his phone a revolving door of contacts he didn’t even bother saving half the time.

until you showed up.

it wasn’t just that you were beautiful—plenty of girls were. but you had this quiet confidence about you, a way of looking at him that didn’t scream take me home now. you made him work for your attention, your time, your smiles. and god, he wanted to work for it.

the first few dates were surprisingly normal. no wild nights, no sneaky excuses to get you alone in his room. you made him laugh, made him feel something he hadn’t in years—light, easy, like he could just be rafe without any expectations. but tonight, as you sat on his couch, sipping wine and smiling at him in that way that made his chest ache, rafe couldn’t ignore the tension humming between you any longer.

he leaned in, testing the waters with a soft brush of his lips against yours. when you didn’t pull away, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands sliding to your waist. you melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, and that was all the invitation he needed.

rafe pulled you closer, his hands wandering beneath your shirt, his kisses growing more urgent. but just as his fingers brushed against the clasp of your bra, you stiffened, pulling back suddenly.

“wait,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

rafe froze, his hands stilling as he searched your face. “what’s wrong?”

you bit your lip, looking anywhere but at him. “i… i need to tell you something.”

his heart sank, the worst possibilities flashing through his mind. “what is it?”

“i’ve never done this before,” you said quietly, barely audible.

the words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. rafe blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. “you mean…?”

“i’m a virgin,” you clarified, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

the room suddenly felt too small, too quiet. rafe sat back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process. a virgin. you were a virgin. he hadn’t expected that. he hadn’t planned for that.

“shit,” he muttered under his breath.

you pulled your knees to your chest, your voice small. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you sooner.”

“no, it’s not…” rafe trailed off, shaking his head. “it’s not your fault. it’s just… i don’t think i’m the right guy for this.”

your eyes shot up to meet his, wide with confusion and hurt. “what do you mean?”

“i mean… i don’t think i can give you what you deserve for your first time,” he said, his voice hollow. “you should be with someone who can… i don’t know, make it special or whatever. someone who knows how to handle that.”

the words tasted bitter as he said them, but he convinced himself it was the right thing to do. he wasn’t the guy for you, not for something this big. he couldn’t risk screwing it up.

you stood abruptly, grabbing your bag. “i see.”

“wait—”

“no, it’s fine,” you interrupted, your voice trembling as you headed for the door. “thanks for letting me know where we stand.”

rafe didn’t stop you. he didn’t know how. the door clicked shut behind you, and the silence that followed was deafening.

the guilt hit him almost immediately.

rafe spent the next few days trying to ignore the gnawing pit in his stomach, but it was useless. every time he closed his eyes, he saw the hurt on your face, the way your voice cracked when you said thanks for letting me know where we stand.

he tried to tell himself he did the right thing. he wasn’t equipped for this. he wasn’t worthy of this. but that reasoning felt thinner with every passing hour.

by the third sleepless night, he couldn’t take it anymore.

you weren’t expecting to see rafe when you opened the door. he stood there with a sheepish expression, holding a bouquet of flowers that looked suspiciously last-minute.

“hi,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

you crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “what do you want?”

“i came to apologize.”

“for what?” you asked, your tone sharp.

“for being a fucking idiot,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “i handled things wrong, and i know i hurt you. i didn’t mean to, but i did, and i’m sorry.”

you stared at him, your defenses still firmly in place. “why now?”

rafe sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “because i haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night. because i was wrong to push you away, and i hate that i made you feel like i didn’t care.”

your heart softened despite yourself, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook just yet. “and what happens if i let you back in? do you just push me away again the second things get complicated?”

“no,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “i won’t. i swear. i just… i freaked out because i’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and it scared the hell out of me. but i’m done running from it. from you.”

the vulnerability in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes, made your resolve crack. slowly, you stepped aside, letting him in.

rafe didn’t rush you after that.

he was patient in a way you hadn’t expected, taking the time to get to know you in ways that had nothing to do with sex. he remembered the little things you told him—your favorite coffee order, the song that always made you cry, the way you liked your eggs in the morning.

and gradually, the walls between you began to crumble.

it was weeks later, on a quiet friday night, that things came full circle. you were sitting on his couch again, your legs tucked under you as you watched a movie. his arm was draped casually over your shoulders, his thumb tracing absentminded circles on your skin.

when you turned to look at him, he was already watching you, his gaze soft and warm.

“what?” you asked, smiling.

“nothing,” he said, his lips twitching into a grin. “you’re just really fucking cute.”

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed. “shut up.”

he didn’t. instead, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate. his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face to deepen the kiss.

this time, when his hands wandered, you didn’t stop him.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

you nodded, your eyes locked on his. “i’m sure.”

rafe didn’t rush. he took his time, every touch, every kiss deliberate and reverent. he didn’t just want you—he wanted to make you feel safe, cherished.

and when it was over, he didn’t pull away. instead, he held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if letting go would mean losing you all over again.

for the first time in his life, rafe cameron didn’t feel the need to run. he didn’t feel the need for anyone else.

he just wanted you.

and he wasn’t going to mess it up again.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl l @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[jasvtsc]

dean winchester x angel!reader — family feud.

warnings! mentions of drugs, violence, abuse, bad parenting, neglect, john winchester, mary winchester, implied prostitution, fem!reader

word count! 1.5k

you didn’t hate.

sure, you disliked some things more than the others. but hate? that was a strong word.

however, when it came to john and mary winchester?

you fucking despised these two to the point it made you want to hurl.

and that’s a lot, coming from an angel. leaves some space to think about things, y’know?

anyway.

john and mary ‘the worst parents of the century’ winchester.

you could write the whole bible on their parental mistakes and how they both neglected their children, basically scarring them with lifelong traumas—especially dean.

of course, you didn’t want to belittle sam and his trauma, since he got the fair share of john’s bullshit himself. but dean was the one who had to step up and be both a father and a mother while only being a kid. and that’s not fair—for both of them.

dean was the one starving himself, so sammy had food, since john forgot about his kids or took too long on some hunt. he was the one who earned money in ways that were more shameful than one could’ve imagined. he was the one getting roofied and…

yeah, you were livid.

and you didn’t even get that from the brothers themselves. before coming to earth you got a solid debrief of what you were getting into. and that meant knowing about the shit they went through from a to z. that was probably the main reason why you were so nice to them instead of acting like a complete jackass like most of your feathery siblings.

you had compassion that some of them massively lacked. you were the literal example of an angel supposed to help humanity and heal troubled souls. you were the epitome of purity and goodness.

but to older winchesters? yeah, you were a little bitch.

ever since they came back to life—a family thing apparently—trying to redeem their mistakes and be this happy and loving family, there wouldn’t be a minute without you sending daggers with your glare or scoffing at every word that left their mouths.

not only did they break the rules of the living and undead (sam and dean didn’t count), but they acted as if they didn’t do anything wrong. as if they could make up for their mistakes. well, too fucking late for that.

you simply couldn’t watch them together nor could you understand why they forgave them so easily. why did dean forgive them. you were baffled, but for the first time, you didn’t feel like asking questions.

no, you were having too much pent-up anger that you began slowly turning into castiel. not that it was bad, but considering your usually bubbly and happy personality now so doom and stern? yeah, it was concerning. especially for dean.

but when he tried to confront you, you brushed it off and disappeared. just like cas. and you were disappearing more often, without telling anyone and god knows where. and dean began to think what had he done to upset you to the point where you couldn’t even stand being in the same room as he was. cause he was always ready to blame himself first.

he sighed, sitting in the library, sipping a beer while mindlessly staring at the wall. he was debating whether to start praying so you’d come, but then his father entered the room, startling him out of his thoughts. john put a hand on his shoulder, making him jump up in his seat and visibly tense up—a response that a true soldier should have. what a fucking bullshit, just another trauma response.

“come on, son. stop brooding over that angel. you know how they are. they don’t give a shit. we’re just humans for them. toys they can play with and then dispose of as soon as we’re old and cranky and without much use. they’re immortal. they’re getting bored quickly,” john sighed with a small chuckle, patting his son’s shoulder, which only made him flinch more.

“you don’t know her. she’s not like that,” dean muttered, rubbing his chin. you weren’t like that…right?

of course you weren’t. why did he even think that? you were his whole world, and he pretty much thought that he was yours. you weren’t like other angels—you were actually angelic and pure and all the other schmancy shit. but yeah, no, you weren’t like that, and his dad was fucking wrong.

“she’s an angel. a supernatural creature. that says enough. they shouldn’t be here anyway. their place is up there where they can be all high and mighty with those pretentious stares.”

“she’s not like that,” dean said more sternly this time, his voice strong and leaving no place for a discussion. you were his little birdie, and he wouldn’t let anyone badmouth you. not even his own father.

“you’re defending her now?” john scoffed in amusement, looking at his son in disbelief. “you’ve gotten soft,” he hummed.

“and? is it so bad now? i’m sorry to disappoint you. again,” dean stood up, ready to leave, when his father grabbed his arm and looked at him with those eyes that dean knew too well—those eyes that meant he was about to get his ass beat.

“don’t be a brat now. show your father some respect. i don’t think i taught you to run your mouth—" dean swallowed thickly, preparing himself to get a blow to his face or at least try to dodge it, perhaps.

however, before john could finish, suddenly his hand on dean’s arm was yanked away and painfully bent backwards as if it was going to break any moment, the angel blade pressed dangerously to an artery in his throat.

“touch him again and i’ll make sure to drag your ass to hell myself, you fucking deadbeat,” you hissed with so much venom and hatred in your voice that it honestly made dean speechless.

you had the deadliest expression dean had ever seen on your face. he felt goosebumps on the back of his neck, suddenly feeling as if he was frozen in place. to be honest, you looked pretty scary and intimidating for such a small and inconspicuous creature.

“oh, look who’s back from heaven,” john chuckled darkly, clearly pissed off by your presence. “tell her to back off,” he almost growled while shifting his eyes from you back to his son.

dean stood still. honestly? he didn’t want to help. he wanted to let you do your thing. he wanted you to protect him.

but it was his father. and he felt that he couldn’t just let him be treated by you like that.

“birdie, come on. drop it,” he sighed, coming closer and wrapping his arms around you, gently pulling you back. he knew you wouldn’t protest, and you knew that as well—you’d never hurt dean or even try to do something that would possibly hurt him. you’d probably cut your own wings off if he got even the smallest bruise because of you. “relax, okay. don’t do anything stupid, birdie,” he rubbed your arm, trying to calm you down.

with a huff, you turned around and looked at dean. “i don’t like him. and i don’t like your mother. these people are weird and had hurt you and i don’t trust them,” you hissed, keeping your voice a whisper so john wouldn’t hear as he tried to scramble himself up from the floor.

“birdie, they’re my parents. i—” but he cut off and raised his brow. “how do you even know what happened? i never tol—”

“angel stuff. doesn’t matter. i just don’t like it when you’re hurt and upset and feeling sad. and these two make you upset, sad and hurt!“ you tried to resonate. “i just want you to be happy. i can’t give you your childhood back nor i can undid every awful thing that happened to you. but i can try my best to make it better and give you what you missed out on. if you want to feel childish for a minute, we can do that together. i’m already considered to be one apparently,” you huffed with a small eye-roll.

and dean was speechless. he looked at you in disbelief, and all the other feelings that he couldn’t quite name. he felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest, tears gathering up in his eyes. he tried to say something, to think of something, when john’s mocking chuckle echoed through the walls.

“are you kidding me? crying? what kind of soldier—” before he got a chance to finish, you sent him on the floor with a solid sucker punch to his face. john groaned and blinked hazily before losing consciousness.

you shook your hand with a small huff and then looked at wide-eyed dean.

“i’m not going to apologize for that,” you said in that direct and indifferent tone, pointing at john’s unresponsive body.

dean just blinked and then looked at you, his expression slowly softening. he smiled at you and pulled you closer.

“honestly? i don’t want you to. thanks birdie,” he hummed and kissed your temple, letting his lips stay on your skin for a moment, while you leaned into his invitingly warm touch. “i love you so much, my little angel.”

“i love you, too, deano.”

god, he was so glad to have you.

a/n: i’ll drop the drabble tomorrow cause i didn’t think i’d finish this shot faster lol😭

༄♡ tags: @frosttbitessam @beausling @deanswidow @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell @aileenunfiltered @figthoughts @fitxgrld @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @deansbite @artyandink @10ava01 @abellmunsonmovie

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Hello I was wondering if you could do Jackson ellie x bestfreind reader and like they have had a crush on eachother for a while and have a sleepover where they smoke or drink maybe or play some type of game like truth or dare and find out they like eachother and get kinda freaky idk. Thank you!

EEE I am so excited for this one watch me cook on this request. This is a rlly good request and I wanna write something just as good!! Also I want to recommend you an ao3 fic with this EXACT plot it's tagged here actually my favorite Ellie fic ever.

Content: 4k words, bestfriend reader, Jackson setting, pent-up feelings, nipple-play (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), tribbing, Ellie puts a finger into your mouth how fun!, a lot of dialogue before the actual sex sorry but I loved writing Ellie to be funny, reader likes pink a lot (couldn't help myself) and is afab, reader and Ellie 18+, NOT PROOFREAD LMAO

You're far from safe from liking people you shouldn't like.

That doesn't even cover the multitude of feelings! Like doesn't cover it. You're pretty sure you love Ellie.

Maybe in another lifetime, you and Ellie could've met and went on a date. You could've loved her freely. In this universe, she is your childhood best friend.

You know it could ruin the best thing that has ever happened to you if you tell her, or if she finds out in some way, but fuck; when she looks at you, it's like you forget how to breathe. You just wanna breathe her in, you want to share the same air and feel her lips on yours.

Ellie is unlike anyone you've ever known. She's sweet for you. She's impulsive to others, and honestly sometimes an asshole. That only makes you fall more and more in love for her. You didn't know it was possible to be attracted to someone's flaws, but you want every piece of her, even the bits that others in Jackson label as "annoying."

Ellie has always been there for you since you were just 15 and she moved to Jackson right by Joel's side. You just seemed to click. She was brash, foul-mouthed, and told ironically funny dad jokes. You were the type of person who liked having adventures and never shut up. Ellie always listened. She held you while you cried, let you borrow her book of puns, and volunteered to do patrols with you just so she could have fun adventures with you.

You couldn't ruin a good thing. You don't know what you would even do without Ellie in your life. You didn't wanna freak her out or make things weird. You feel like such a coward, but even thinking about Ellie distancing herself from you because of your stupid crush on her? It just makes your stomach churn with dread.

Little did you know Ellie was equally obsessed with you.

You're like a fucking ball of sunshine to the girl, always there laughing at the stupid things she says, defending her when she gets in trouble for something minor, and your smile should be considered warfare for how easily it could kill her. She tries to keep her feelings to herself, but it is so hard to when you look at her with bright eyes and the sweetest smile like you're trying to give her a toothache.

It's a recipe for a bomb, and it only takes one game to set it off.

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You're sitting criss-cross on your bed and Ellie is in your floor. It's a Saturday, which means both of you get to have a sleepover. No patrol, and no major chores to be done around Jackson.

Ellie just got back from a multiple day lasting patrol and she missed you so much while she was gone, it's not even funny. Seattle is beautiful, but boring when there isn't a sunshine girl in awe about how the verdure clings to the buildings. But at least now she is here, back in your bedroom which she loves so much.

Ellie's room is vastly different from yours. Well, her garage is. Her bedsheets are grey and minimalistic, and her make-shift kitchen is lined with posters. Her favorite is the one with the punk green-haired man holding a guitar. Her closet, however, it quite impressive. Her shelves are lined with comics and space movies, and her hangers are lined with flannels, of course.

Your bedroom, in contrast, has white bedsheets and a cozy pink blanket. You have a few raggedy plushies from scavenging around and your shelves are filled with lighter-colored clothing. White curtains decorate your windows and frilly pillowcases (that end up in the floor most of the time) compliment your bed. You have a full-length mirror in the corner of your room and a shelf of DVDs you usually just bring over to Ellie's garage, since she has a much nicer tv than you do. Ellie glances up at you from the floor, squiggling her eyebrows.

"I'm so fucking bored!" You groan, making Ellie laugh in the process.

"And how is that my problem?"

You flip her off and she clutches her stomach.

"Seriously, Ellie. I wanna actually do something and not just eat grilled cheeses and read your nerdy comics."

She scoffs.

"Excuse me? It's not my fault you have bad taste in literature."

You snort at that. "Starlight Savage and Raven Mouse are not literature."

"Oh, then what are they, huh?" She stands up, amusingly offended.

"Comics!"

Ellie grabs one of your pillows and pretends to suffocate you with it. You're laughing and trying to pry it off of your face.

"Hey, quit! You're actually gonna kill me!" You giggle, your voice muffled from the cushioning.

Ellie finally relents, laughing along with you.

"Better think twice before disrespecting Starlight Savage." She is wearing her signature shit-eating grin.

"Oh, whatever.. Hey!- You got me off topic." You groaned.

Ellie laughs at that. "And what was the topic?"

"I am bored out of my fucking mind," you complain, your voice rising in pitch to sound whiny, which she pretends to absolutely hate.

Really, she just hates that it makes her stomach clench when she hears your cute complains, and the tone of your whines only makes it worse.

"Okay, okay, fine. We can do something fun." She feigns reluctance, setting down on the bed beside you.

"Great!! So, what should we do?"

"Seriously? You don't even know what you wanna do and you gave me whiplash bitching about being bored?"

You scoff, jumping to your own defense. "I was tryin' to get you to come up with something," and then you add to complete your argument, "I wouldn't be bored if I knew what we could do."

Ellie sighs, and you smile because you know that means she has had enough of your bullshit and she just wants to throw in the towel.

"Fine. Well, we can play a game perhaps?"

You groan in protest at the suggestion. "You're a dirty cheater when it comes to Monopoly!"

Ellie only lets out a sheepish laugh at that, because she knows that you're being 100% truthful. "That is what makes the game fun!" When she sees your glare, she sighs once more. "Fine. How 'bout Truth or Dare?"

That sounds intriguing; the game begins.

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You and Ellie sit across from each other, and the game has been going on for around 10 minutes now. It's getting quite boring - always questions like "What's a secret you haven't told me?" or Ellie dares you to do something she knows you won't do, like lick the toilet bowl.

Then, she asks a question that brings the game onto another level.

"What's your favorite sex position?"

You stare at her, your jaw practically in your lap. You don't wanna talk sex positions with the girl you secretly wanna do sex positions with.

"What the fuck, Ellie?!"

She looks a bit guilty, but shrugs with a smirk that doesn't go unnoticed.

"What? I wanted to spice things up. C'mon, don't be a pussy."

You think it over, but finally, with a heated face, you say fuck it and give into her bullshit. "Missionary."

Ellie bursts out laughing.

You're sitting there not knowing what to do! She is laughing like a hyena at this point, tears in the corners of her eyes. She slaps her knee. What the fuck?!

"What's so funny?!"

Ellie just laughs, falling over and she is snorting like a pig now before she finally settles down. "It's just.." she tries to stifle a giggle, "that is the most boring thing you could've possibly said.”

You know that, but you're keen on defending your word. Ellie loves that about you, how you're always quick to stand up for yourself. "It's romantic!"

"Okay, okay," she shrugs. "Enlighten me on how missionary is more romantic than any other position that actually feels good."

You don't hesitate to list off the facts. "First of all, it does feel good! You just haven't tried the pillow method. Second of all, you can kiss your partner and actually talk to them." You sigh, getting a bit flustered (and turned on) by the conversation at hand. "Imagine fucking someone and getting to kiss all over their face while doing so, or on their neck or their tits. It's about the intimacy."

Ellie looks just as flustered as you now. She is silent for a moment before giving you the benefit of the doubt. "Okay, I guess you can rest your case now. But there is much more intimate positions than missionary, you know. You're just thinking vanilla ones like riding the strap-on, or from behind."

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Okay, I'll bite. What's more intimate than looking into someone's eyes while they cum?"

Ellie laughs at your vulgar question, pink tinting her freckled cheeks. "Tribbing." Her voice is more quiet, and that only makes you more aware of the slight tension.

You quickly brush it off with a laugh.

"Of course your gay ass would say that."

She grins and sits up at that, quick to defend herself. "Hey, you have no room to be talking, little miss 'my gay awakening is Rose from Titanic.'"

Your jaw drops and you look at her like she has said something crazy. "Hey, Rose is hot!"

She giggles. "Yeah, Sherlock, thanks for pointing out the obvious."

You roll your eyes. "Okay, okay. Can we get back to the game?"

She nods, and it continues.

As time passes, the questions grow more and more...uncomfortable to answer. You're still asking her the more casual things, but Ellie is daring you to do stupid, impossible stuff, or to answer questions like "what was your first time like?", "do you have a friends with benefits situation with anyone in Jackson?", and "if you could kiss anyone in Jackson, who would it be?" (which you brushed off jokingly by saying old man Eugene. She didn't press any further, only mocking you).

Then, she leans forward after you choose truth, and she whispers something you can't really brush off.

"Who do you like?"

You're fucked. If she asked "do you like someone?", you could answer without revealing who it is. She knows she has you trapped. Sneaky cunt.

You don't answer right away. Ellie is so close, your knees touching. The air in the room is insanely hot, and you want to leave your own house, you want to hide under your blankets or cover your face, but you can't.

Ellie doesn't wait for you to answer.

"I know you like someone, I can tell when my best friend is in love. Who is it?"

"That's way too personal, I.."

She scoffs, but it's not a rude sound. Just shocked, maybe slightly hurt. "You have always told me your crushes. Why won't you tell me now?"

You feel guilty now because she doesn't understand. She doesn't get why you won't tell her. She can't understand that it's because you like her. You want to scream it: I'm in love with you, Ellie! But those words won't be the next you utter.

"I just...I feel like this time it should be private." You know that your reasoning is weak, for once in your life, the defense is slipping and it's ugly. You internally wince.

She just stares in silence, not really meeting your eyes. It makes you panic, and then, then the words slip from your mouth seeing the hurt on Ellie's pretty face.

"It's you."

She stares at you like she didn't quite hear what you said, even though it was shaky, nevertheless loud and coherent.

"What...?"

"I..I'm in love with you, Ellie." You repeat yourself.

She leans into you. "Fuck.." Her breath hitches. "You better not be fucking around with me, I swear to-"

"No!", you shout loudly and quickly try to compose yourself. "I mean..I'm not joking. I like you. I hope this doesn't fuck with our friendship, or like.." You trail off, not wanting to think about what could happen now.

"I'm in love with you, too." There, now Ellie has gotten it out too.

Ellie didn't even fully understand why she asked you that. She knew she could've gotten her feelings hurt, that you could've liked someone else or that it would definitely mean you did like her, and then she had to be vulnerable and confess it back. Still, she was so exhausted, so fucking tired of pretending like hugs and casual touches were enough. They were never enough.

"Can I kiss you?" She doesn't even give you the proper time to react to her shared confession before she springs that onto you. You don't complain, only nodding quickly.

Her breath is warm against yours, and you can tell how shaky it is. You've never seen her so nervous, it makes your own stomach flutter with butterflies. Then, Ellie's grasping onto your face and smashing her lips against yours. Her mouth is warm, and the kiss doesn't even start out gentle. It's all devouring, all need and passon.

You quickly move into her lap, thighs on either sides of hers, and both of you are desperately pulling each other closer, finally sharing the same air. She tastes like everything natural, something so unique it can't be described but you immediately know you need more of it. Her tongue moves inside of your mouth, devouring you just like how she has been dreaming of for who knows how long, and when you're forced to pull away for a breath, her lips are sloppily trailing down your jaw to your throat, her hands grasping your hips to pull you closer.

"I've wanted you for so long, you know that?" Her voice is warm against your sensitive skin, and you think you could just burst with how it feels to be practically intertwined with her.

"Show me how it feels, Els.." You gasp and tilt your head back for more, but Ellie pulls away to look at you.

"How what feels?' She doesn't sound rude, only confused with her lips swollen and wet.

"The intimacy..the intimacy you talked about.." Oh, that.

She nods quickly, and her mouth is all over your shoulders, leaving soft pecks between words, "We can do that, but I wanna do something first..is that okay?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

With that, she pulls your shirt over your head and stares at you like she has never seen a pair of boobs before. Her eyes are wide and she takes you in before her.

"You're so pretty," she mumbles with conviction, kneading your tits through your bra. You can only moan when she sticks a hand into your bra and rubs her palm over your nipples, her other hand deftly undoing the clasp of the fabric.

That was the hottest thing you could do for a woman, Williams..

Her lips quickly find a nipple, pulling it into her mouth to swirl her tongue around the bud. Your fingers tug at her hair, begging for more. You need her closer. She reluctantly pulls her mouth off off of its new favorite place and leans back up to face you, planting an affectionate kiss on your cheek before smiling sheepishly.

"I'm gonna say something I want to do to you, but you can't laugh.."

That makes you already giggle, despite the heat building between your thighs. That is something you love about Ellie, the way she can make you laugh even when you aren't supposed to be.

"I'll try my best. What is it?" You ask, and she fiddles with her fingers nervously.

"I wanna use my fingers on you," she says it so quietly, voice nervous but filled with hunger before she quickly adds, "if you want me to. It's okay if you don't wanna go any further-"

"I want you to finger me, Els."

That was easier than she thought it would be.

She nods now, slowly unbuttoning your jeans and watching with an intense gaze as you hop off of her lap to shimmy them off. Now you're in nothing but a cotton pair of panties and you look so gorgeous.

Ellie has always found you to be beautiful. During patrols and on lookout, your hair had a shine to it that most people wouldn't care to think too much about, but Ellie always noticed it. Ellie always noticed the way your lips parted when you were zoned out, or how you walked like you always knew where you were going even on the paths that were mainly uncharted. You were so lovely-looking.

Now, nearly naked for her, she doesn't know if she can bare to blink even for a second. She is currently having a never-ending starting contest with your body, and she has to stop herself from pouncing on you. She wants to love you, not just fuck you.

Ellie is on her knees between your legs, hooking her fingers into the waistband of your underwear. Her eyes flicker over your body before looking to yours for confirmation.

"You sure you want this?"

"Please, Ellie. I want you." You know you sound desperate for her, but it can't be helped. You were soaked through your underwear, clit beating with need, and Ellie is just eyeing you like she wanted to devour you. She probably would, but she wants to save your clit for later.

She nods and slips your underwear down your legs, pulling them off of your ankles and throwing them behind her. The action made you giggle, but Ellie quickly squashed your outburst.

"Somethin' funny?" She asks, slipping a finger through your slick folds. You gasp and jolt.

"Hey, where the fuck is the warning, you cunt?"

She has to stifle her own laugh at your outburst, but she is growing tired of the cute giggles; if you laughed one more time, she'd be fucking you until you were limping-

"Sorry, pretty. I'm gettin' impatient." Her tone mkes you involuntarily clench. You rarely hear that tone, the serious one when she is either around someone she doesn't know and is keeping it professional or just not in the mood to joke. Now, you discover it's her horny tone, too.

You nod, tilting your head back to rest it on your frilly pillow. Finally, she slips two digits past your lips and you resist the urge to let a whorish whine slip past your lips. When she easily slides into your heat, you then can't resist.

Ellie's eyes are glued to your pussy like it's magic, watching your hips try to rise for more, feeling the way your walls tighten around her intrusion.

It's too much for her poor, fucked head to bare.

She is already as wrecked as you are. She wants to taunt you for the way you already look like you're going to cum from her barely brushing at your spongey g-spot, but she can't. She is probably in rougher shape right now.

"You feel so warm." It's all she can manage to get out, and she curls her fingers inside of you into upward, making you moan.

"I wanna cum, Els..please, more. Give me more." Ellie has never seen you this dumb for pleasure before, but who is she to deny you?

Her fingers aren't thrusting in and out or finger-banging you, just slowly sliding through your cunt, her fingertips stroking where you need them to. You feel so full, so complete. You hope she does this every single day from here on out.

It doesn't take long to get you into a state of complete bliss, and you haven't even climaxed yet. Your legs aren't clamping down, rather spreading wider as if you're begging for her to take you in the most obscene ways possible, fill you up with more than just her fingers. If only she you two were currently at her house, she has that unopened strap-on box... maybe for another day.

The knot that builds in your stomach, the temperature of it overheating your insides is about to snap. You're begging as if Ellie is teasing you or something. You're whining, and you look like you're about to start sobbing if she pauses her pace even for a nanosecond. She just wants to gives you everything, thinks you deserve the whole world, so she leans forward and intertwines her fingers with yours as her other fingers pump deep inside you, and you swear it's rearranging your guts. You wanna be wrecked so damn badly.

"You keep fluttering around me, gonna cum?" She asks, and you whine and nod.

Your orgasm soon hits you like a tsunami, once in a crash and then it simmers throughout you in waves. This is probably the hardest you have ever came. You gasp onto her hand tight, squeezing her fingers. You can't even speak or you'd be howling her name. It feels so euphoric and you wonder how it can get any better than this.

When you come down from the peak, she eases her fingers out of your tender insides and licks her ring finger clean. Then, she settles her hips between your legs, bringing her soaking middle finger to your lips.

"Open up."

You do so without question, tasting yourself on her digit before she swiftly pulls her finger away with a "pop!"

"I taste weird," you mumble and she rolls her eyes, mumbling a little "fuck you" before sitting up to strip out of her flannel.

You feel maybe a little nervous before. Something about the thought of feeling her in such an intimate way makes you feel even more fluttery inside. You've been with women before, you are far from a virgin, but you've never clashed clits before (omfg what). Most girls thought it was just a porn thing.

"You okay?" Ellie pauses, her flannel on the bed and a black t-shirt layer underneath it.

"Yeah," you mean it, "just a little nervous."

Her eyes soften, and she takes your hand and squeezes it. "I promise I'll be slow with you. I'm not gonna rush you into this, and if you want, we can always stop."

You feel more assured now, and you smile. "Okay."

When she finally strips out of her clothing, you take her in. She is breath-takingly beautiful. Her body is pale but covered in tan freckles, and her nipples are perky with arousal. Her shoulders and collarbone look so fucking kissable. You're still in a daze as she hooks a leg over yours, her warm cunt only an inch or two away from yours. She hovers.

"You ready?"

"I want you, so yes."

That makes her smile, and she slowly eases down onto you, her folds rubbing up against yours and both of your neglected clits finally getting the attention they deserve. Both of you are already moaning and Ellie leans down onto you, her tits brushing against yours as she kisses you deeply.

This kiss is slower than the first, less desperate but just as emotional. It's hungry and consumes you in a sensual way. Her hips grind against yours, her slick mixing with your soaked pussy to make you only whine into her mouth.

Now you understand how intimate this is. You feel so connected to Ellie in a way you hope you never get to feel with anyone else. You wanna always be this close. You think that even after this ends, you'll feel that tie to her body and heart, always leading you back to her.

When you both cum together, it's much different than what she gave you before. You can feel her tense up with you, hear her shaky breaths and moans, and you feel a warmth inside of you reminding you that she feels this way because of your pussy, because of her feelings for you. It's making you obsessive to feel this way.

When the high fades, she collapses on top you. You're both breathing heavily for a few minutes. Her breath is against your neck and it feels like a kiss. Your brain is thinking of something stupid now that the horniness is over.

"Isn't it obvious that I'm your girlfriend now?"

Ellie laughs and squeezes you tightly.

"Yeah. You're my girlfriend now, and I'm not letting you go."

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[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Something Something Yeah It's Still Solavellan Hours (Mythal is kind of here, too)

I've seen a few very beautifully articulated posts talking about the conflicted responses players are finding themselves having in regards to the decision by writers* to have Solas' atonement route possible because of his conversation with one of the remaining fragments of Mythal.

(*honestly I hesitate to put the weight of bigger game events on their shoulders because of how much I know bigger players in the company were involved, so when you read 'writers' know I just mean whoever had final say on plot)

I love reading where people are at on this, and having now breathed, re-played the scene, cried, read some more theories, and then played the scene again enough times I think I'm now able to figure out where I'm at.

TLDR: in my humble opinion, the conversation Solas has with Mythal doesn't bring him any actual closure at all. It is only the version of the atonement ending that has Lavellan in which he is actually set upon a road to redemption.

This, like everything else where I lose my mind, will be long. I tried to restrain myself and here we are, unhinged as ever.

I was unhappy at first that Mythal's incredibly brief conversation with Solas where she releases him from her service seemed to be what finally allowed him to make a decision based on his wants and not hers. My concern stemmed mostly from the fact that a lot of us are trying to be active participants in a society that recognizes patterns of abuse and seeks to establish channels through which individuals can pursue healing without the approval, consent, or demise of their abuser.

But the more I look at the scene, the more I wonder what would have happened in a world where Veilguard got just a little more time in development. Could we have gotten a scene that more elegantly conveys the theme that we cannot heal every part of our loved ones, much as we might like to?

In an imperfect world it isn't always up to us how someone finds closure, which really sucks when you'd like to ensure a loved one finds it in a way that preserves their dignity and limits exposure to the individuals who have harmed them.

And while it could be left there, I'd like to actually push back on the idea that Mythal is in any way responsible for "healing" Solas in this moment.

I went on a different tirade a few days ago about how at the end of Inquisition, Mythal says words to Solas that on their surface seem well-intentioned or placating, but they actually just serve to further bind him in guilt and a position of servitude. In Veilguard's finale, she still does not take accountability for exactly how much of a role she played in the pain that Solas, a man others have revered and feared as a god, has gone through as he cowers, actually cowers before her.

Mythal's interaction with Solas conveys exactly two things to him as far as I am concerned (I'm going to botch these quotes but my laptop is dying so please accept some paraphrase as I rush to finish this before I go cry about this analysis to my uncaring dog):

"The terrible things we did, we did together." You are forever tied to me.

"I release you from my service." But what am I releasing you to?

Because up until Lavellan joins the fray here, all I take away from the physical and unwilling emotional cues Solas gives in this scene (he is a master in trickery, for goodness' sake, the thought of so many witnesses seeing him unable to hide behind a mask has to leave him feeling anguished on top of everything else) is that Mythal has once again reminded him of everything he did in her name and telling him that all that's left for him is to go back to the fade prison and, as he as always done, endure the crushing weight of his failures alone.

To me, in my interpretation, the Solas that hears this from Mythal with no Lavellan intervention may choose to willingly step down from his original plan (and yeah, that's gonna do some damage) but he is certainly not free of his past. He's going to be reminded of it every time he turns a corner and finds more blight to try and soothe, and even the moments that he rests will be filled with more manifestations of his regret. He says it himself: where he's going? It's terrible.

Enter Lavellan. Yeah, he couldn't bring himself to listen to her at her first plea (but like damn how many times are we going to have to watch her give a heartfelt speech only for him to be like 'something something beautiful elven rejection'). But I know that you know that our clever icon knows better than to take what Solas says at face value. She tells Rook plainly that he's absolute dogshit at lies of the heart, and she says it with her whole chest.

Lavellan sees the way his shoulders slump (in resignation yes, but you can't convince me there's not a little bit of relief there, too), she hears the agony in the "vhenan" that escapes his lips (which, don't even get me started on the fact that it's been like nine years and he has no hesitation at all calling her his heart, it just spills out of him). It is not the sound of a man delighting in the steps he's about to take. They're certainly not steps he does not dislike that lead to a destination he enjoys.

And then she watches Mythal (who I can't imagine she feels any sort of fondness or respect for) pull some weird nonsense on her love one final time, and she knows it's her moment to shine.

Mythal, I would argue, pushes Solas down one more time, shames him into seeking atonement, into once again being alone.

It is the romanced Lavellan that kneels so that he cannot fail to meet her eyes. It is she who invokes their connection, not to remind him of his failures but to reaffirm his greatest strength: their love and their love alone is inevitable. Not the consequences of his past, not the regret he thinks will consume him as he seeks to mend what has been broken. It has only ever been them.

"There is no fate but the love we share". We are forever tied together.

"There is no fate but the love we share." *I* am releasing you from everything else save for this love.

Put colloquially: get absolutely fucking wrecked, Mythal.

Body language comparison to chase up the dialogue one, anyone? The way Solas shrinks before Mythal as opposed to him walking off into the fade with Lavellan at his side and standing tall, and he does not flinch when she lifts a hand to his shoulder?

Ultimately, Mythal is a part of the atonement endings no matter what. But it is only Lavellan that refuses to let him walk alone. It is only Lavellan that guarantees that his dinan'shiral ends not in a prison of regret, but a place of promise.

Mythal bends Solas until he breaks one last time. Lavellan takes each piece, claims it as hers, and uses them to build the beginnings of a future.

[justkending]

Pink or Violet? (Part two of "It's just a papercut..." Drabble)

(All gifs are from Pinterest)

(Part two of "It's just a papercut..." Drabble)

Pairing: Grumpy Bucky x Avenger Reader (Enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 2600+

A/N: Well, wow-ie wow, wow... Y'all blew up the last little drabble connected to this one, so I had to grant myself some writing time today to come up with a follow-up drabble. This one is a lot more lighthearted and a good 5-8 months in the future (your choice, really). Thank you, guys, for all the love on the last one, and I hope this one is a nice extension of it ;)

________________

“Have you ever considered going brunette? Whoa!” I sense the knife before I see it and manage to expertly dodge it with a laugh. “Hey, my teammate said I’m not allowed to get stabbed anymore, big guy,” I note, turning in my spot, kicking the man in the nuts, and as he folds over in pain, I hold his head perfectly to knee him in the face, hearing a satisfying crunch, causing him to land with a thump by my side. “Rude to interrupt conversations, too, dude.” 

Currently, we were in the middle of a stakeout… Or what started as a stakeout and now is a full-on brawl. 

Nat and I were rudely interrupted in our conversation about disguises we wanted to try, when an explosion in the facility we were monitoring took over the west wing. 

“I’ve done a wig,” Nat answers as she jumps, doing one of her classic moves where she’s sat on the shoulders of her assaulter, choking him out with her thighs before flinging her body to where she’s standing again casually and the man is incapacitated passed out on the floor. “Not that I didn’t find it flattering, but it’s harder to dye back with such a dark color.” She shrugs as she moves on to her next victim. 

I bend grabbing the knife from the man I just took down and flip it a few times in my hand. “Makes sense.” I nod with a convinced look. “On your right,” I hum, and she ducks while I throw the knife perfectly to where it lodges itself in the thigh of her attacker. 

A blood-curdling scream sounds at his pain, and I pout at him in fake sympathy as Nat shoots her widow bite as he falls, making him shake in shock before passing out. 

“What about you?” she asks with a breath, brushing her hair out of her face. “Ever considered a neon green?” 

“What? No. Am I trying to get caught in this undercover scenario?” I reload my gun before holstering it, and we start jogging to our next spot. 

“I just think it’d be fun to venture away from the neutral tones for once. Maybe there would be a mission where you did need to be found and-” Nat’s cut off by coms in our ears. 

“Ladies, enough salon talk,” Tony’s voice comes through. “We have a situation on the northeast corridor where we could really use your help!” 

“We’re coming!” Nat groaned. “God. Micromanager is in full force today.” 

“Besides, Y/N’s skin complexion wouldn’t work with a neon green. Maybe a pink, though…” Tony continues before his coms cut out, and he’s back to shooting things from the sky.

“Oh, pink would be really good with your skin tone,” Nat seconds as we turn a corner. 

“No one is dying their hair pink! I could use some backup!” Bucky’s shouts come from the comms next.

“Where’s Steve?” Nat asks, pausing at a fork in the halls and signaling for me to follow. 

“Caught up at the moment,” Steve’s grunts came through my earpiece. 

“Almost there, Barnes!” I note as we come to the hall where he’s supposedly located. “And I’ll have you know, if I want to dye my hair pink, I’ll damn well dye my hair pink!” 

“Guns, Y/N,” Bucky groans. “I have guns going off around me and at me. I’m not worried about a fake scenario right now. I’m worried about a really real one that’s-” He’s cut off and grunts a few times. “Please just-” 

The two men he was up against fall slack to the ground, and he’s left panting with relief as he turns back to me, standing at the end of the hall with my gun lowering back to my side. 

“Please, what? I like it when you use your manners,” I smirk as I walk up proudly to him. 

“You need to be humbled a touch,” he notes, shaking his head as he checks his weapons and reloads them while I walk to stand by him. 

I roll my eyes before assessing our surroundings as he gears up. “You’re just jealous because the girls have more fun with undercover makeovers. You want a pink wig too?” I tease, poking his shoulder. 

He playfully shoves my own and makes me teeter some as I laugh. 

“I got the information!” Steve’s shout comes through the comms. “We can wrap this up.” 

“Thank God,” I groan, adjusting my holster on my hip. “I have dinner plans.” 

“Sorry to interrupt your schedule,” Tony snarks. 

“It’s ok. You can compensate by paying for my meal,” I say back, pushing the button in my ear to keep it in place. “Speaking of compensation…” 

“Y/N, I swear if you say you stole my credit card information again,” Tony groans. 

“What, me? No… I would nev-” 

“Shut it. I don’t even have the energy to fight you.” 

I turn to Bucky and wink, and he’s biting back a laugh with a wide smile. 

“You’re a mess, you know that?” he says lowly, the comms not picking up on us. 

“You like it,” I shrug and start moving down the corridor, where Nat’s waving us on to follow. 

“That I do,” he hums, following behind me and playfully kicking my ass with the tip of his boot. “Now, these dinner plans…” 

“Interested?” 

“More than you know…” 

____________________

Back at the compound, freshly out of the shower, I hear a knock on my door. “Just got out of the shower, but the doors unlocked!” I shout. 

“Dinner’s arrived!” Bucky shouts, shutting the door behind him carefully. 

“Thank God. I’m starving,” I grumble, throwing my sweatshirt over my head after getting dressed. “I’ll send Tony a thank you card later for covering tonight's meal,” I hum, drying my hair with a towel as I come into the room. 

The greased takeout bag smells fresh of hole-in-the-wall dinner food, making my mouth water. I grin as Bucky places it on the coffee table in front of my couch and starts arranging the containers for us to splurge. 

“No, you won’t,” Bucky responds to my thank you card comment. 

“No, I won’t,” I agree, jumping over the back of the couch and bouncing into the seat next to him. “Hmm, you smell nice.” I’ve come to learn, and so has Bucky, that his body wash might as well be my kryptonite. 

“I can say the same for-,” he bumps me with his elbow before his eyes narrow on my exposed shoulder, and without a second thought, he grabs my arms and moves my body to face him. “What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” I ask, looking down at the spot he’s glaring at as best as I can. 

“You got a cut,” he points out, hovering his fingers around the area and moving my sweatshirt out of the way. 

Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have cut the neckline to half my sweatshirt after that stupid TikTok trend I saw the kids doing… Or at least worn one that wasn’t butchered tonight.

“Buck, it’s literally a scratch. And I’m genuinely not downplaying it at all,” I note, grabbing his wrist and trying to move his hands away, but they have an iron grip on me. 

Or should I say, vibranium grip on me?! Haha! Get it?.. No? Ok, moving on…

But seriously. The cut was just that. A cut. It wasn’t anything like the night we talked things out months and months ago. That one had become slightly scarred, whereas this one will be scabed over in the morning and likely be gone in 2-3 days. I might as well have gotten into it with a cat who was pissed when he figured out he’d been put on a diet. 

“A cut’s a cut,” Bucky argues, looking up at me. “Did you clean it?” 

“Yes, I cleaned it in the shower with the rest of my body. I disinfected it, and it has that balm on it. And before you ask,” I say just as he opens his mouth. “Yes, it’s that special medical cream you had Banner make for me. I’m set.” 

Bucky had become a little more intense when it came to my injuries since about three missions ago, I had moved at the perfect time to redirect a knife headed right at him, but it sliced my palm in the redirection, and much to my misfortune, it was laced with something. 

To add to the list of medications he’s had Banner concoct specifically for my clumsy self (which were in the double digits at this point), I now have a poison control cream that counteracts most toxins and keeps me from saying hello to Heaven sooner than I hope. 

“You don’t feel weird or anything?” His eyes are scanning mine and my face for any lies or other injuries I haven’t told him about, and I’ve come to learn if it makes him feel better to double-check up to 20x before being satisfied, I’ll allow it. 

“I’m right as rain,” I nod, smiling at him softly, squeezing my grip on his wrist in reassurance. “The only thing I’m feeling is hungry and tired. So, what movie are we watching that I’ll inevitably fall asleep on you during?” 

He hesitates for a moment and then nods, dropping his hands and going back to the food. 

“I was thinking Tombstone,” he answers, grabbing one of the to-go containers with fries and a burger and handing it to me. 

“Another Western? What’s got you on the cowboy kick?” I ask, taking it and popping it open, instantly assaulted by the smell of freshly seasoned fries. 

“You keep nicknaming me cowboy, so I figured I should have a little background knowledge of the profession,” he winks at me over his shoulders as he gets his own food together. 

“Oh, yeah? You like the nickname?” I ask, nudging him with my knee. 

“When it comes from you? Yeah. Sam? No. Without hesitation, I will start adding laxatives to his protein shakes if he keeps it up.” 

I laugh at their friendship, and we start up the movie, diving into our much-deserved greasy meal. 

_____________

The next day, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Wanda are lounging on the living room couch, all doing their own thing. Wanda and Sam are watching Sex in the City. Steve was reading a book called The Secret War of Laos, and Bucky was on his computer, fully engrossed in whatever was on the screen.

Nat clears her throat, and I stand next to her in a baseball cap with my hair completely hidden underneath. Everyone looks up, and instantly, Bucky’s eyes fall on me. He smiles for a split second before it drops, and he furrows his eyebrows at my appearance. 

“We have an announcement,” Nat smiles mischievously. 

“Oh God…” Bucky rubs his temples and looks down in his lap in seconds. 

“You don’t even know what we’re going to say,” I argue, not able to hold back my laugh. 

“I can use context clues,” he grumbles before looking up, his eyes squinted as if he had a bad headache forming, and it was already making his eyesight worse. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Nat waves him off as Sam and Wanda chuckle, and Steve looks oblivious to what is happening. “Anyway. Y/N and I made a bet and, well… Y/N lost.” 

“Surprisingly, not mad about it,” I shrug, arms crossed over my chest.

“Of course, you’re not…” Bucky mumbles, shutting his computer and putting it to the side.

“What did I miss exactly? Because everyone seems to know what’s happening…” Steve asks, confused, taking in everyone’s reactions. 

“Come on. Let’s see it.” He interlaces his hands and rests them in his lap as he watches me. 

I smile at Nat, who’s also grinning wide, and move to take the ballcap off.

“Awesome,” Sam is the first to say something, and Wanda claps and gushes. 

“Oh wow, that’s so cute!” She smiles widely. 

“Whoa. That’s…” Steve turns his head to the side.

“Pink,” Bucky finishes for him. His eyebrows raise in what looks like surprise as he takes in my new hair. 

“Do you like it?” Nat asks the group, and there’s a mix of reactions as they talk over each other. 

I laugh with them for a little before walking over to Bucky’s side of the couch. Plopping down next to him, the crew talks about their own personal transformations they’d like to take and quickly forget about us in the corner. 

“Thoughts?” I ask, smirking up at Bucky as I sit almost wholly tucked into his side. His arm comes around my shoulders, resting there as he looks at me from the side. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he chuckles once, taking it in up close now. 

“Eh, I thought a change-up would be fun. Change. Is. Good,” I shrug, poking his chest with each word. 

He moves to touch my hair, and as soon as his fingers touch it, his face contorts into an investigative look. 

“What?” I ask, biting my lip as he’s already catching on to my ploy. 

“This isn’t,” he rubs a piece of hair in between his fingers, studying the texture. The crease in between his eyebrows drops instantly, and he deadpans to me. “It’s a wi-” 

“Shhh!” I hush him, almost jumping in his lap as I cover my hand over his lips. He freezes, eyes wide, and his hand instinctively goes to my hip to balance me. “Let me live this fantasy a little longer,” I smile, holding back a giggle. 

“This is a fantasy of yours?” He asked behind my hands, words muttered and raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe fantasy isn’t the right word-” 

“Because it’s starting to turn into one for me,” he cuts in, and I can feel his smirk in the palm of my hand. 

I slowly drop it, astonished at his confession. “I’m sorry. Did I hear that right?” I ask, peering at our friends who are now arguing with Sam about growing an afro, which he is all for, apparently. 

Instead of answering, he licks his lips as he brings his hands to the wig and plays with strands of it.

“Maybe not the pink, but… How’d you feel about a violet?” he asked, eyes slowly rising to mine. 

“Oh. My. God…” I say lowly, sinking back in my seat, pressed to his side. “Did we just discover a new kink of yours?” 

“I fear we may have…” His voice was low and made a shiver go down my back. 

“I hold no fear at all,” I smirked back at him, looking him up and down. “All I feel about that statement is excitement…” 

“Where exactly did you get this? Because it looks pretty realistic…” His fingers still play with the wig, which, thanks to Nat, is a higher-end one. How he caught on to it being a wig is impressive. 

“Doesn’t matter,” I shrug. “What matters is I happen to know they carry all the colors…” I smirk. 

“Interesting.” 

“Interesting indeed.” 

He starts to stand up, and I’m confused by the action until he turns and offers me a hand up, and once I’m standing, he leans down to whisper in my ear, my hand still in his.

“We can keep this one for now. I have a few ideas still.” 

I look up at him, pleasant surprise on my face. “You know how I said change is good?” He nods with a smirk, his hand squeezing mine in response. “This,” I motion between us. “This is a change I’m glad happened.” 

“Same here,” he winked, pulling my arm to I’m be flushed with him, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, escorting me out of the room.

“Where are they going?” Nat asks, confused at our sudden leave. 

Everyone turns to see the tail end of us leaving, and Wanda laughs after a second and quickly covers her mouth. “God, pray for her,” she says under her breath, and Nat gives her a look. She tries to play it off by coughing and shaking her head. “Sorry, something in my throat.”

Marvel Tags:

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My Lovelies Forever:

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[savanir]

Death of the Father, Death of the Son

Part 3

prev and OG prompt

Dick was just about finished with his preparations in the Batjet when one of his brothers barged in and dumped some of their stuff inside as well.

“I’m coming with you” Tim straps down the case he brought and plants his ass in the copilot seat.

Dick looks at him with a slight frown, “Tim…”

“no I want to see the murder scenes with my own eyes and it’s good for you to have some backup-”

“I’ll be just fine on my own babybird-”

“-cause we don’t know if this is just one assassin or a whole organization”

“ok. and now you can tell me the real reason you want to come along”

Tim gives Dick a side-eye before slumping down“... Alf has been talking with Bruce about me needing fresh air again and I rather do that preemptively and on my own terms so you’re just gonna have to accept you’re stuck with me on this one now”

Dick sighs, and ruffles Tim’s hair before strapping himself in the pilot seat and ignoring the indignant squawk from his brother, “sure, fine, Oracle we’re heading out now”

“have a safe trip Nightwing”

and they are off

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

Amity Park is about what they expected, outwardly nothing remarkable, somewhat sleepy. But upon closer inspection the signs of multiple battles are quite clear.

Though apparently it’s been quite a while now since the last “ghost” battle. There is a lot of speculation as to why among the town folks which could be important to look into some other time, but for now the boys put a pin in it and get to breaking and entering the old Fenton household for their investigation.

Things seem to be normal inside the house but… ahem, well...

Tim inspects all the strange tech that looks just haphazardly slapped on the walls with a critical eye while Dick lifts one of the family photos to have a better look.

“looks like a normal average american household to me, even with mom and dad preferring to wear hazmat suits everywhere apparently” there really aren’t any pictures where they aren’t wearing the orange and teal suits. Madeline Fenton wasn’t wearing one at the Gala though, she looks a lot more comfortable in these pictures.

Dick looks around some more, “is it just me or does this place just feel… depressing?”

“yeah no I get what you mean, there is nobody here but I also feel a lot like I’m intruding” Tim hums, “more than normal that is”

“Red…” 

Tim elects to ignore that tone of voice completely, “there is no way any of this stuff is even remotely up to code” he then peeks at the picture as well, he of course already knew what the murdered father and missing son looked like, he’s done his homework, but this is a casual happy family picture, that always drives home the fact that these were- are real people. 

but how did they all get dragged into this situation, this mess that is slowly turning into something a lot more complicated… maybe… well that’s why he’s here. To figure it out.

The stairs that lead to the basement lab are in the kitchen for some reason, and once down there they both need a moment to take the whole place in.

The entire house is rather abandoned but this place looks as if it hasn't been touched since the police did their own investigation.

There is some tape and markers that were left behind but overall it looks a lot like a hurricane went through it, exploded, and then everything got covered in a fine layer of dust.

Tim opens the case he brought with him and begins setting up the holo scanners to make a copy of the whole place that they’ll be able to project in the batcave later, in case they miss something now.

It's only after that’s done that they start to have a look themselves.

“Even this badly wrecked it definitely looks like some sort of evil lair” Tim mutters as he inspects the nearest vaguely firearm shaped object, or maybe it’s a hair blower he’s not sure, it’s got Fenton Works™ stamped on it though.

“is that a portal” Dick meant it as a question but it ends up sounding like a statement.

It gets Tim’s attention though, “I… maybe?” it kinda looks like one potentially, busted up to hell though.

Dick carefully approaches it but doesn’t for a second think about going in there,“Mostly looks like a hole in the wall now though, I’m not going in there to check with all those wires on the ground, talk about a trip hazard. Not to mention the threat of electrocution, has nobody here heard about cable management?!”

“where is your sense of adventure Wingster, besides I am pretty sure this place is cut off from electricity now” 

“yeah, I’m not taking the risk with sketchy evil lair portals today” 

Dick lets Tim do his own detective work while he takes out a little device Batman made to alert him to Deadman. He figures it would be interesting to get a read on the place and see if it's really ghosts that have been causing a mess in Amity Park or if it is something else that just appears paranormal.

The ecto-detection goes completely wild however. “Alright well… uhh”

"What's that?”

“I was just curious if something occult was going on around here what with everyone blaming the past attacks on ghosts and thinking that whatever happened here probably has something to do with them as well… but I'll be honest, Boston never registered anywhere near this high. And it's just - everywhere”

“So any further investigation into Amity Park itself is gonna have to be done by Dark?”

“probably” though Tim is also fully planning on doing a full investigation himself.

Either way, they put a pin in that too.

They have a good look at the areas where bullets made an impact, scorch marks and the broken examination tables. They are about done when Tim asks if it would be worth it to break into the local police department and have a lot at (steal) whatever evidence they might still have on the case.

They could have something useful, unless it is who Dick really hopes it’s not. 

They leave the basement and are greeted with the sight of two teens in the kitchen.

hm…

Dick decides to just go with a cheery hello,

“Holy shit it’s Nightwing and Red Robin!” Tucker basically has stars in his eyes.

“After the message we got from Jazz I kinda expected the big bat”

“That's not true, you said after all this time you didn’t think they were actually gonna come at all- ow!” Sam doesn’t hesitate to  hit him in the shoulder. 

“Didn't think we'd show up” Tim says.

“Well am I wrong?” Sam sneers, “the only reason you guys are here is cause it’s a Gotham thing now. Otherwise someone actually competent would have looked into this months ago”

Tucker shrugs sheepishly and looks a little pained, “perhaps we shouldn't antagonize the Justice League heroes?”

Sam looks about ready to start hissing, it reminds Tim somewhat of the demon brat when he's particularly upset. “whatever” she says.

Tucker now has a strained smile, “uh, if you guys were wondering how we knew you were in here, that's because Jazz asked us to keep an eye on the place”

they tripped an alarm? how… Everything in here is cut off and disabled. some sort of battery based system maybe? but they would have surely picked up on that…

Dick figures he might as well just go ahead and ask some questions so he takes a seat and the other two follow suit more at ease than the two birds expected. Tim decides to wander a bit more around the kitchen. Maybe there is something he missed here.

“so, I'm just gonna go out on a limb here and assume that you two also think Daniel-”

“Danny” Sam corrects immediatly 

“-yes Danny, you two also think he's still alive?”

The question is immediately answered by a, “yes” and a, “he is”

“Jazz also seemed very certain of this despite the fact that a body was found. what makes you all so sure?”

Sam looks ready to spring into another tirade, Dick is starting to suspect that she has a serious issue with ‘not being taken seriously’

“Jazz told you guys already about the clone thing right? just go to Vlad's estate and it's all there in his evil basement laboratory”

“and we also know someone who can check deaths through occult stuff, and they confirmed that he has not… you know, crossed over”

“occult like magic?”

“or something, they were never wrong before. we do realize this isn't hard evidence obviously but they are a friend and not the type to just tell us what we want to hear” this is the easiest way to explain that they got in contact with the ghosts to have them look through the realms for Danny.

“I'd like to speak with-”

“that's gonna be hard, they don't show up with all the government people crawling about”

“so that individual with proof cannot be reached so we can’t verify their claims”

“nope”

unfortunate, but they did already say it wasn't hard evidence. It seems that these two aren’t going to budge on it which seems a little odd to Dick, there are known magic users in the League. Someone being able to check into the afterlife or whatever to see if someone is truly dead isn’t completely out of left field, it should be fine to meet with that person and at least hear them out… so why are ‘’government people’’ an issue? are they possibly wanted for some crime? oh well…

“when we went to them it was mostly just to know. you know? like… mr. Fenton got murdered and Danny went missing, and nobody knew anything or could find anything. Everyone suspected ghosts of course. and we just wanted to know if our best friend was dead or not, if searching was even worth it”

“and now the fruitloop got assassinated. to us it basically also confirms it you know. he's still alive, and it would absolutely be best to shut up the one guy who knows about the whole thing”

But why smear Masters? Why not do it quietly? And what makes Daniel so special?

Tim just knows he's going to end up with more sleepless nights because of this.

In the end the two teens aren’t actually all that cooperative. It seems they actually have mostly shown up to check what was going on inside the Fenton household, Tim and Dick decide not to push them too much then and there, figuring they could visit Master’s estate first, verify the clone allegations, and after that get back to these two, perhaps when they get more intel and have something more substantial to work these then Sam and Tucker will be a bit more forthcoming as well.

Only time will tell.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

Slade had to go on some solo mission and at this point he's okay with leaving the boys to handle themselves, Danny eagerly takes the opportunity to do his own thing. 

Aka, going after politicians to get the acts repealed. Making deals with the ones who value their lives and can see a good opportunity when they are presented with one and getting his name out there. If he’s an actual threat people will be forced to listen. 

This day though he lands a hit that the supers in Metropolis somehow know about…

someone somewhere snitched, or… they are compromised. A worry for later.

"Memento Mori, they say you're trained by the Deathstroke and that you have an absolute success rate. And that you only kill your target and no one else on one of your assignments... but today all of it is coming to an end because with my tactile telekinesis I-" 

"If I had known that all I had to do to meet a real life alien was to act up a little I would have gone down this road a lot sooner" Danny leans against the AC unit on top of the apartment building they are currently on.

Kon splutters, "what?"

"Alright, okay, clone of an alien, which to me is still basically the same thing. Very cool, honestly, if you ask me, even better"

Kon puffs up, "well I am pretty awesome if I say so myself"

"Absolutely, out of this world some would say"

Kon snorts, then remembers what's actually going on here, "are you trying to distract me?"

"Maybe? Is it working?" Kon pouts and makes a so-so gesture. "I do mean it though. You're easily in my top five favorite aliens"

Kon blushes quite prettily "Uhm, well I... oh wait aliens? Not heroes?"

"Ah, yeah well about that, I guess I'm not a fan of that? Especially not currently. What with you being in my way and all that"

"Oh so if I were to politely ask to not kill the lady"

"Yeah I'm still gonna do that, sorry"

Kon sighs, "well in that case I'll-" 

He promptly gets knocked back by an impressive punch to the face. Mostly stunned by the fact that it properly hurts and then realizing Danny can move at all.

"You got distracted" and gives him a wink.

Kon rubs his jaw, "Oh you think you're cute"

"not just cute, I am adorable" and Kon just knows this smug bastard is grinning at him under the mask he can’t see through.

He really wishes he didn't have a thing for dark haired spunky dangerous people.

"... it- it doesn't matter, even with your freaky assassin skills there is no way-"

"You're a bit of a terrible match up against me though, no offense" Danny is trying to not overuse his abilities. He doesn't want the justice league to know about all of them. but it'll turn into a messy and long fight where neither come out on top if he sticks with the regular stuff. And that would allow backup to arrive and make things even more complicated... 

"Damn... I just don't have time for this"

Kon makes sure he's prepared to intercept anything Danny might throw at him now.

"If you go invisible I'll just follow the sound of your heartbeat"

"Oh" Danny turns his heart off. He can't do that indefinitely while in human form though, but this will do for this fight. "How about now"

"What the-? Are you alright!?"

"Awww you’re worried? That's sweet. Supersweet one could say," Danny turns invisible, "you should really be more worried about yourself though Superboy"

Kon tries if he can keep visual with his X-ray vision, he thinks about trying to do a sweep for even the slightest disturbance with his TTK field when a freezing cold shiver shoots up his spine.  

There is a moment of silence where nothing and nobody moves and then Kon can hear Superman in the distance. 

"Kon! What's going on!"

"That little- he slipped away!" 

"That's unfortunate... meet up with Kara at Miss Holloway’s location. Together we'll be able to stop him there"

"No I think I can-" Kon tries to argue

"Superboy" superman sounds stern 

"... fine, I'm going"

Kon makes a direct beeline for the target location and a grin can't help but spread over his face. He pushes his sunglasses up a bit more to hide the glowing green eyes. 

Now that he got to this point he’s getting back to wondering who tipped the supers off though. Having to switch to plan B was rather annoying. 

And he still absolutely doesn't like overshadowing people but what can you do… mission first, personal and ethical little hang ups second.

Superboy went under so smoothly though, Danny wondered why that was until he did a careful skim of the surface and sensed the roiling self hatred. He suspects that'll do it.

Danny feels sorta bad though, Superboy really is up there in his list of coolest things this world has to offer. He'll have to make it up to him after this is all over somehow. In a way that won’t compromise himself, and also avoid the old man knowing. 

It's then that he realizes he's arrived at the target location, it's showtime!

"Here I am"

Kara gives him a wave and he smoothly touches down, it really is a good thing he already knows how to fly and stuff, makes the whole pretending to be a Kryptonian thing a bit easier. "Got away huh?"

He huffs, "he can just turn his heartbeat off, how was I supposed to know that?"

"Deathstroke's protégé's are on a different level for sure. But even they have a limit"

Right... sure... underestimate him, very smart...

Not that he can really blame them. They probably think he's a baseline human with maybe some meta abilities or just a new upgraded Ikon suit.

"Can I see the tip off?

"Again? Sure. Though I doubt you'll see anything in it that we haven't seen yet. Oracle is trying to trace it but..."

"Hm, what if..." yeah some of this was very familiar, "what if it's Deathstroke and he's treating this whole thing as a screwed up training exercise?"

"That... I sure hope not"

"He's insane enough for that though"

"I hate that you could be right"

The silence stretches. 

"Are you alright Kon?"

Danny startles a little, "Yeah! I'm just, frustrated"

"Ah, don't worry. With the three of us standing ready it'll be fine. We'll catch him" she presses her fist in her open palm.

Danny feels a careful smile spread on Kon's face. 

"Hey, you check up on the lady and I'll make it look like I'm not involved in all this. Kal is close by and after that we'll try that thing with you spreading your TTK field super far"

Using Superboy's ability as a net? Interesting. "Gotcha"

Supergirl nods and then takes off and Danny figures he might as well just get this whole thing over with now. 

The lady is right there, she barely acknowledges him when he politely greets her. Rude…

And then he snaps her neck. 

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

"Youuuu" Danny storms up to Slade with vicious green overtaking his usual blue, “you fucking motherf-”

"Boy-"

"Don't you boy me. You sabotaged my assignment!"

"False accusations?"

Danny gives him a look that screams ‘are you for real…’ "Of course I took a moment to investigate. I had to know if we had a leak. But you tipping off the supers you absolute-"

Slade nods, satisfied that Danny looked into the matter, "You were fine, you need to be challenged to learn how to adapt to any situation. The moment things become complicated you resort to your abilities"

"Get off it old man I'm only half human of course I'm using my damn abilities, they are a fucking part of me! You though- You're the biggest dick in the universe and-"

Any civilized conversation quickly ends after that as it gradually devolves into a physical fight.

"Bastard" Danny mutters as he focuses his healing to fix his black eye first. 

"Cool down brat” Slade says, looking no worse for wear, “We'll go over the whole thing in more depth later" and the veteran assassin leaves the room. 

Danny fumes as he handles his patch up himself. While doing so he allows himself a moment of self loathing. 

He hates that he's making progress getting the ecto acts removed. "working" with the people who are happily removing the thing and getting rid of those that ignorantly want to keep it in place. 

He hates that the G.I.W are easier to handle with his new skillset.

He really hates how easy this is getting. 

And he really really hates how there was zero hesitation to overshadow Superboy and use him. 

He can't wait till this is over, one way or another.

[imnotditzy]

Captain Marvel doesn’t know what a normal death is

(TW: mentions of death, brief mentions of murder gang violence)

No but really if you ask a street rat, literal living lighting, a bunch of ancient immortal people and a really wise king from a bajillion years ago, why would a reasonable answer be an option?

Like Billy thinks that if you’re 60 one of your feet are in the grave. Why? Because that was the life expectancy in the 50s. He's also homeless so he’s already more exposed to crime anyway, I wouldn’t doubt he thinks death by “minding someone else’s business” is common enough to be recorded as such in its own category and not murder. Also, he literally fights supervillains who try to kill him everyday? His view is skewed so much, that the damage might be irreversible. 😭

Moving on, Marvel is literally sentient magic. They can’t die, and if they can it’s not a thing that’s very easy to come by. The amount of work it takes to even do the equivalent of a paper cut is excessive, the concept of them dying would take a lot to set in. And they are a lost cause when it comes to knowing what a normal death is. The only “normal” deaths they’ve really paid attention to are the deaths of the Champions…and none of them had anything close to a normal death. (One of them literally gets hacked in two 💀)

The acronym; do I even have to explain? All of them besides Solomon, Heracles and Achilles literally haven’t died. And literally no hero in Greek mythology dies normally. Solomon is the only one who’s died of natural and normal causes, but he was alive in the BCE. That is a long time ago.

Now, Combine all of them together and what do you get? Captain Marvel: someone who does not have a correct interpretation of typical death!

This would probably concern others around them. Especially the JL, because I feel like Captain would mention this randomly.

—

(Green Lantern [Hal] and Captain Marvel were sent to investigate a crime scene together and they stumble upon the body.)

Captain Marvel: Aw…seems like their time came. (Captain’s got a sympathetic but large smile.)

Green Lantern (looking down at the stabbed body): Um, Cap?

Captain: It’s a shame. But I guess nothing could be done…

Lantern: Captain, they were stabbed???

Captain: Oh, I know. Happens to the best of people, right?

Lantern: Uh —No? Captain this is…worrying??

Captain: They’re in a better place now. Maybe.. ☺️

—

(They’re now back at the watchtower for a debrief, but it somehow turned into Batman questioning Captain Marvel.)

Batman: Captain can you explain why the body was not concerning to you?

(Batman’s staring at Captain intensely.)

Captain (confused smiling): …because there was nothing to worry about?

Batman (raising an eyebrow): Why?

Captain (hesitant): Because there’s probably not a serial killer or whatever running around? They killed an insider, it was gang violence.

Batman: How were you sure?

(Captain looks up to the side like their remembering before shrugging)

Captain: …Oh, I’ve seen similar bodies like that before.

—

(This occurrence is reason #5738 on why Captain Marvel cannot interact with civilians. But in Captain’s defense, how was Billy supposed to know lifespans updated?)

Captain Marvel (pointing at an “old” lady): Oh, she’s 62?

Citizen: Yeah?

Captain (sympathetic): Oh. It’s good she’s still on her feet though.

Citizen: What?

Captain: She’s thriving for her age, right?

Citizen: C—Captain Marvel, she’s 60 not 99. She just retired.

Captain (confused): Really? Why would they have her working so long if she’s nearing the end? (The lady turns around with this expression on her face: 😟)

Citizen: Because she wanted to?? Captain are you ageist?

Captain (never heard that word a day in his life): Uh, I don’t think so? What does that even mean??

(The media later somehow gets ahold of the footage and it becomes such a scandal it reaches the JL; Captain Marvel is then forced to have a public statement. At the giant press conference, Mary and Freddy are there standing next to him and laughing.)

Captain Marvel (whispering): Shut up, it’s not like you thought any different.

Miss Marvel (also whispering): Yeah but we’re not stupid enough to say it to their face, Captain.

Captain Marvel (still whispering): It’s not like you guys would have any less scandals than I do if you were in the media as much as I am.

Reporter (impatiently): Ahem. Marvels?

(Both siblings look like deer in headlights while Freddy laughs at them. They both apologize in unison.)

(Captain then clears their throat, they look like they’re dreading this.)

Captain Marvel: I am terribly sorry for what I said about [62yo citizen]. I hadn’t intended to be rude, but I seemed as such because I had a gap in my…

Solomon (telling him what to say): …Knowledge. I was under the assumption that the average lifespan wasn’t much longer than a person’s 60s…

Captain (repeating what Solomon’s saying): I now know that, while once true, that information is outdated.

(Billy went on for three more minutes, only stopping because the DTC got too bored and people were starting to give him funny looks.)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You sit at your desk, shaken as the sound of the mug shattering repeats in your head. You can smell the dark roast as you stare fuzzily at your monitor. You hadn’t even taken the coffee you brewed. You can see it in your mind, forgotten on the counter, lonely, going cold. 

You have no thirst for the maple shortbread roast. You rub your fingers together, the feeling of the shards, the incessant jitter that won’t leave you. You tried to play it cool but now you’re really scared. 

You open your Teams and type out a message to your manager. You’re spending half a sick day and going home. Her curt response betrays her agitation. She’s not impressed but you don’t care. Work isn’t as important as taking care of yourself. 

You shut down and pack up your bag. You slide your chair under your desk and keep your head down as you head for the stairs. You avoid the elevators to evade any notice. It feels like admitting defeat but you’re not sure there’s any victory to be had with that man. 

As you exit the building, the weight lifts from your chest and the slouch eases in your shoulders. Maybe you can ask to change desks. That would be a start. You can get a bigger thermos and bring lots of coffee so you never need to venture into the breakroom. This could work. 

Oh boy. You think you’re going to have to quit. You really don’t want to, you feel like you’ve barely begun. And he isn’t the only person there, it isn’t his company, so why should you have to run away? 

Dana can be… decent and there’s that woman with the vintage blouse you met in the breakroom. Somehow, you never managed to spill her coveted hot chocolates in your carelessness. It’s as if the universe put you on the path of this angry man, but why? 

Screw the universe. It can’t tell you how to live. You’ve never really worried about fitting into its machinations and you won’t start now. 

You don’t want to go home right away. You veer around and head down to the cafe a few blocks down. It’s a bit of a trek but you’ve heard good things. You go inside and wait your turn, ordering an iced fruity tea and a lemon scone. 

As you turn to go, you see that woman through the window. The one from the office in her thrifted clothes. You love her style. A braid red belt with brown tweed pants and a bell sleeved button up. She doesn’t see you wave as she turns away and carries on, earbuds tucked into her ears. 

You claim a table by the window and as you unwrap your scone, a man marches by, raising your hackles as you see the determination in his step. He heads in the same direction as that woman, intent and unbothered by his surroundings. You’ve seen him too, he works in one of the fancy offices. 

You pick at the scone and nibble on the corner before sliding it away again. You’re still addled by your breakroom run-in. You thought this would be a distraction. Or hoped it would. 

You leave, unsatisfied. Home it is. Alone, but safe. 

You take the bus halfway then walk a few blocks to your apartment. As you get inside, you’re restless. You do your best to settle in.  

Gaming doesn’t calm you down, even as you go around to say hello to your villagers. You shut that off and grab your half-done crochet project but the hippo is too much of a challenge to ease your nerves. So you get up and run yourself a hot bath. 

You undress with the door open. You bask in your newfound solace. It took you a while to get out of your parents’ place but now you’re on your own, you don’t have to worry. 

You slip into the water with a sigh. A playlist drones from your phone on the counter and you mix in scented epsom salts. You start to feel a bit bed as you recline and close your eyes. You stay like that until the water is lukewarm. 

You get out and pull on your fluff rope with the pink cheetah print. You feel renewed and ready to relax. Just don’t think about the inevitable. Tomorrow you’ll have to be back in office. 

You shuffle around you apartment lazily and turn on the television. You curl up in the corner of the couch as Sailor Moon transforms in the intro sequence. The music fills your small space. You’re comforted by the childhood favourite. 

You ease into the cushions and feel yourself starting to doze. You’d still be at work if you didn’t take the half-day. You shouldn’t be falling asleep already but you can’t resist the nap. 

You close your eyes and something scratches down ear canal. Some sort of friction. You don’t pay it much mind. There’s always noise from the hallway or the street. But it happens again and again, then you feel something. 

You sit up in fright and turn to the figure sat next to you. You’re so stunned, you can’t find your voice to scream. You take a deep breath and Curtis raises his index fingers. 

“If you scream, I’m going to have be bad,” he warns. “So let’s not do that.” 

“How’d you get in here?” 

He tilts his head as he watches the television. You peek over. You like this episode too—but that’s not the point! 

“Curtis--” 

He hushes you and sits back. “You don’t make it hard to follow you. You’re so oblivious, you have no clue what’s going on right in front of your face.” 

“I...” 

He shushes you again and looks at you. “You’re going to get real hurt one of these days.” He crosses his arms and puts his head straight again. “It’s up to you. Is today that day?” 

[myceliacrochet]

Reblog if answer tysm!!

Eleven Urgent Campaigns

Hey guys, I know several people are waiting on me right now to make posts for you, and I apologize🩷🩷🩷 I am struggling to get everything done on my to-do list, especially since it is hard for me to get as much done due to disabilities, but rest assured that most of the items on my to-do list are for Palestinians🩷🇵🇸🍉 I made a lot of progress tonight on flyers to distribute in person for several families -- @manal-ghorab3, @sham-moner, Hala, Ayat, and Fatima. I also worked on job applications and my application for government assistance so that I can keep doing this work and so I can have a small amount to donate.

For now, I want to draw attention to several campaigns, each of which are urgent:

🇵🇸 Contact the WHO to ask them to evacuate nine-year-old Mohammed Alchear now for EMERGENCY LIFESAVING TREATMENT instead of in less than two weeks, when the child would be dead. The WHO has the permission of Israel, they just need to move quickly before the child passes.

🇵🇸 Hala and her daughters are starving to death in north Gaza, where all life is being exterminated at an even higher rate than the rest of Gaza. Hala said they are praying that an angel will save them. Hala's campaign is dangerously stagnant and needs extra support because applying for vetting will be a challenge for her due to loss of hope.

🇵🇸 Ayat (26) and her one- and two-year-olds are also starving to death and in serious danger in north Gaza. Like everyone on this list, they desperately need emergency food, provisions, and evacuation.

🇵🇸 Moneer (19) just got out of major surgery, and his family -- who just lost two extended members to a raid -- is struggling to find most of the basic necessities, even clean water.

🇵🇸 Mariam, her little girl, and her baby are stranded in a refugee camp in Syria so dangerous that the organization that ran it, the World Food Programme, no longer brings food. She is trying to keep her head up. Like every Palestinian family I am advocating for, Mariam's family is freezing cold. She has enough food for the end of the month, but not enough cooking fuel, and she needs power.

🇵🇸 Sameer al-Kilani's (21) campaign is dangerously stagnant and he is starving. He needs community support.

🇵🇸 Neveen and her four children feel abandoned and overlooked by the world, and they are getting flooded with icy cold rains.

🇵🇸 Manal and her family of five need medical attention and emergency food, and their campaign needs more consistent support.

*Edit: Her GoFundMe campaign keeps getting shut down, and she just lost all her campaign money for technical reasons. Please help this family gain back the donated money they keep losing!!

🇵🇸 Shorouq, Sameer, and their three kids need the same, and they fear for the coming winter of even worse flooding, freezing, and famine.

I might need to post using this kind of format in the future for time's sake so I can get to everyone... Let's see how this one goes

@erectiledisfigurement @vague-humanoid @plomegranate @rainbowywitch @chronicsheepdeprivation @danielladadasworld @win-rrar @shizukateal @sweetsweethate @hexxeh @heydreamchild @knavewoods @katherinefh @variouscontent @blvvdyindustries @morelinesandscribbles @monstermashpotato @wellsbering @tolbachik @akajustmerry @comrademango @superdragonjpeg-thing @afropiscesism @ihavenotfallenyet @fly-sky-high-09 @remindertoclick @slowbrobutch @insanitysmiles @wirehairwiredstare @everypores @pregnantseinfeld @seeyouguyslater @innovatorbunny @ohlorde @imjustheretotrytohelp @awetistic-things @theinconvenientlifestyle @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @sea-shame @faacethefacts @craigthetourguide @blomstermjuk @mythiedew @operationladybug @fifthnormani @disinfobot @beserkerjewel @hellootoodlesxoxo

[ladylilithprime]

.....I have a lot of books that I've read, but I would hesitate to recommend them even where the authors have not to my knowledge done anything to warrant expulsion from the Good Writer Club on grounds that have nothing to do with writing. Especially on tumblr. Especially when at least two writers I devoured the works of have controversies in their personal lives that have caused many people to shun their works out of a sense of betrayal or just an overdeveloped desire for a social justice crusade. (Not getting into that up here, I've got a whole rant about the need for nuance and critical thinking and that's not the point at present.)

That said.

I did read the Harry Potter books until the fifth one when Rowling apparently fired her editor and started turning her books into more useful bludgeoning weapons. The movies were easier for me to sit through, though the adaptions changed things.

I tried to read Twilight and only got about a page and a half into the first book before I had to put it down from boredom. Again, the movie was easier for me to sit through (lack of first person narrative helped here) and I still haven't seen the others in the series.

I have never even picked up a book by Sarah J Maas, so I can't say anything about the quality of the writing from the perspective of me as a reader.

I haven't heard of any of the others, though I'm at least aware of Robert Jordan, much the way I'm aware of James Patterson.

The books I did read and devour?

The Brainship series and the Pern Chronicles by Anne McCaffrey (requiescat in pacem).

The Xanth series by Piers Anthony.

The Elvenbane and Elvenblood by Andre Norton and Mercedes Lackey.

Pretty much anything by Mercedes Lackey.

The Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia C Wrede.

The Young Wizards series by Diane Duane.

The first three quartets in the Tortall universe by Tamora Pierce, though my appetite slowed after "Squire". (Not specifically a detractor to the later books, just where my own personal interest began to falter.)

The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley (yes I'm now aware of the issues surrounding her personally, but I wasn't when I read the book).

Pretty much everything by Terry Pratchett...

...which led me to his Good Omens co-author and various books he wrote. (Again with the timing of awareness, not getting into it here, see comments above.)

The Animorphs series by KA Applegate. (Tried to get into the Everworld series, didn't enjoy it as much.)

Kushiel's Dart by Jacqueline Carey (slow-going because I do have to be in a specific headspace to read that much BDSM porn, even when it's well-written and plot-relevant).

My partner loves the books by Lois McMaster Bujold and has read excerpts to me many times, which are quite entertaining.

I read Redwall by Brian Jacques and a couple others in the series, but found them more entertaining when I thought they were just talking animals.

So.

I'm currently sitting in a room surrounded by books because my family are all avid readers on a wide variety of genres. A lot of the books I'm staring at are not ones I would choose to read, and I've never been pressured to read them. My mum (just turned 80) has read many of them, usually right along with me. My dad (now 78) has read many of the same books as well as the rest she hasn't, and he's disagreed with many of them and written journals filled with notes and arguments on many of them. He was once given a book by an acquaintance who told him she thought he should read it because she knew he was a logical thinker (he did read it and told me later that the book was not at all logical; not having read it, I can't say either way).

Point is... go find a library and look through the stacks. Read the blurbs on the inside covers, maybe read a page or two. If you like it, keep reading. Look up the author on your phone if you have to in order to see what else they wrote.

And if you don't like the book, then just don't keep reading. Put it down, move on to another one. Don't go looking for controversy or dirt to justify not liking the book or the author. Don't do it to justify liking them, either. You do not need to justify your personal preferences. You can be aware of the politics the author has, even heartily disagree with their perspective and biases, and still enjoy reading a book. It's perfectly okay not to internalize what you read every time.

Otherwise, I wouldn't still reread The Chronicles of Narnia.

J. K. Rowling gave us facist Wizards.

Stephanie Meyer gave us Mormon Vampires.

And Sarah J. Maas gave us zionist Faeries.

The Holy Trinity of Mediocre White Women ruining fantasy for everyone!