#and talk about tv shows and my writing and encourage me

[kanerallels]

Also I'm very tired

[mooooonnnzz]

This is kind of cringe but can you write a fic or make a headcanon list of Stan/Fords daughter getting a partner and how the dads would react? I love your work btw it's great!

2010 Toyota Corolla

Stan + Ford HC's of their teen getting a partner!

⟡ 1,5k words

⟡ gender neutral reader!

⟡ guys i think im going through a writers block can u tell

⟡ i was doing so good too omg

⟡ i couldnt figure out a title so i used a song i was listening to ths is a song i swear

⟡ cute lil simple hc of of the oldmen!!

⟡ if u wanna be added to my taglist dm or comment!

⟡ i might like take a two day break from writing to get it working again ngl

Stan

♡ Stan is extremely protective of you. He never shunned the idea away of you having a partner, but he never really encouraged it. He told you that it was “a waste of time,” that finding a partner at such a young age isn’t really necessary until you’re older. You didn’t bother protesting against him because at the time you hadn’t found your person yet. But when you did, you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t nervous to tell Stan about it. You knew he wasn’t going to be overly mad, but he was going to be slightly against it knowing his views on you having a partner.  “Dad?” You nervously fidgeted with your fingers. “Yes, pumpkin?” You inhale, mustering up all the courage to tell Stan. “I have something to tell you…” You draw out. Stan’s face lightly drops, already having a feeling of what this “something” is. Pausing his TV show, he loudly gulped. “I’m dating someone!” You blurt out. Stan stares at you for the longest time, the gears in his head turning as he processes what you said. “You? Dating?” He sits up from the couch. “I need a moment…” 

♡ After he recovers from the initial shock, he’s bombarding you with questions, such as; “Who are they?” “Do I know them?” “Are they smart?” And so on. You had no problem answering his questions and he had no issue giving you questions with how rapidly he shot them at you. Whenever you answered his questions, you could see the wrinkles in his forehead deepen the more you open up about your partner. This was definitely going to take some time for him to get used to. “Thank you for at least telling me, pumpkin.” He says after finishing up the whole Q&A.

♡ Meeting your partner was a must before he’d allow you to hang out by yourselves. When they came over to the shack, Stan had this whole gruff persona. He didn’t show much emotion and when he did, it was to show his distaste for what your partner said. “How long have you known [Name] for?” He interrogated, flashing a bright light to their face. “For a year now, sir.” They responded, shielding their eyes from the shining light. “Sir? I like that.” He mumbles to himself, scribbling +1 point on a notepad. When he turned over to you, he gave you a big thumbs up and a crooked smile. You couldn’t tell if it was going well. “Why do you want to date them?” Stan raised a brow, tapping the pencil on his chin. “Because I fell in love with them, sir.” Stan let out a loud “hmm,” and scribbled down, ‘very straight to the point’ on the note. After the interrogation was over, he ripped the note and gave it to your partner. “This is your score.” He said. “I guess you did good.” 

♡ He pulled your partner into a room and had a serious “talk” about something you didn’t have a clue about. But when they came out of the room with a horrified look on his face while Stan was proudly smiling to himself, you had a tiny idea of what he said. They turn around to Stan and Stan twiddles his fingers, his other hand sliding across this neck threateningly. “Dad!” You smacked his arm. 

♡ Even after Stan approved of your partner, he still wasn’t fully swayed by them. Whenever they’d be over, Stan would send death glares behind their back when they weren’t looking. But you would always catch them and when you did, Stan would sheepishly smile at you and make a heart gesture and point at your partner. He only ever came around them when Stan noticed them staring at one of the monster tourist attractions. “Whaddya lookin’ at, kid?” They began explaining how interested they were in the craft of making these grotesque monsters and Stan was more than happy to tell them the process. “Glue and staples come in handy, kid. I’ll tell you.” 

♡ It wasn’t after that, you’d find your partner and Stan creating all kinds of monsters while cackling and talking. Stan saw you walk in and his face brightened up. “Pumpkin, look at what they made! It is disgusting.” He pointed a glue covered hand to the little ugly statue of a half chipmunk and fish. “Oh? Isn’t this something…” You poke at the monstrosity. “Isn’t it amazing?” Stan laughs, impressed with your partner's handiwork. “Oh, yeah. This is amazing.” You plainly said. “I’m going to leave you two be…” Conversation erupted between the two while you walked away with a big smile to your face. 

♡ “I like that kid.” Stan says, a pleased look on his face. “Oh, I can tell, Dad.” You roll your eyes playfully. “Hey! They’re a great person. Perfect fit for my little [Name].” His fingers reached out to pinch your cheeks. “Oh, stop!” You push his hands away. “I’m just messin’ with ya, pumpkin.” Anything will and can make this old man laugh. “You might as well steal them from me.” Stan’s perked up. “Really?” He overplayed his excitement. You send him a dirty look while he barks out in laughter. “You’re gross.” 

Ford

♡ He never really thought of you ever dating anyone. Romantic partners didn’t exist to him considering how terribly alone he is. The only thing he ever said about you dating was; “Uh, yeah?” and carried on with his work and that was a good enough answer for you. Ford found out about your partner when he walked in on you and your partner cuddling on the couch. “[Name],” He clears his throat awkwardly, pointing at your partner. “Who is this?” You introduce your partner to Ford and he’s genuinely speechless. “Since when?” He whispers to you after pulling you aside in the kitchen. “Since like, last week?” Ford’s jaw falls open. “And you never thought to tell me?” You shrugged. “I asked you and you said you were okay with it.” You tell him. “When?!” 

♡ He would be so awkward around your significant other. “So…What is your name?” He’s tugging at his turtleneck, silently dying from how silent this whole exchange is. It takes him a lot of time to warm up to them, a lot of hangouts with the three of you together so he could be comfortable with them. He also uses this as an advantage and studies how they treat you and what they should improve on to make you happier. At the end of the hangouts, he’d slip in a note in their pocket. “If you want to stay with my child, you need to read the note.” He didn’t mean for it to sound menacing, but it was unfortunately received like that. “[Name], I think your dad hates me.” 

♡ Like Stan, there’s an interrogation but it’s not as serious as Stan’s. Ford would have called them over and told them to sit down. He begins asking questions and writing down their answers. “What are you hoping to do with [Name]?” Your partner blushed. “To marry them hopefully.” Ford nodded his head. ‘Disgustingly cheesy.’ He wrote it down in big words. “If I ever wanted to conduct experiments on you, would you allow me?” You jump in at the mention of that. “Okay! I think they’ve answered enough questions, Dad!” 

♡ He deep cleans the areas where you and your partner hugged, kissed and cuddled in. “Dad, what are you doing?” He has a mask and a plastic protective layer of armor around him. “I’m cleaning all the gross teenage bacteria!” You had to walk out after that.  “Is this something you’re seriously going to keep up?” Even though Ford is the smartest man alive, he has trouble understanding the true nature behind relationships. “Yes, Dad. This isn’t a one time thing and we’re over. It’s a relationship.” 

♡ Oddly enough, they bonded over their shared interest in researching the wonders of Gravity Falls. You’d often find them outside, Ford kneeled down to the ground, inspecting something while your partner has a notepad in hand, printing down whatever Ford is telling him to write. “Hey, what are you–” “SHHHH!” You looked at them with a confused look. “We need to be utter and total silence.” Ford held out a finger while he whispered notes for them to write. “Why though?” Ford pointed at a sleeping little fairy that was blanketed in a leaf. “Leave the fairy alone!” Ford opened his mouth to argue back, but his nose twitched and before he could react he sneezed, blowing the little fairy away. A silent tiny scream could be heard. “That was awesome, Mr. Pines!” Your partner held a hand out for Ford to high five but Ford was too sad to high five them back. 

♡ “Final opinions on them?” You ask. “They aren’t too bad. They could be a good research partner.” You smile. “Just don’t take them from me.” You say, nudging him gently. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz, @katharine3000

[beesspacedotorg]

Handle With Care

Summary: You've had a truly awful day, luckily, your adoring boyfriend Minho is there to make it better. 2.5k words

Warnings: there's sex, but honestly it feels like someone accidentally got porn in my fluff so do with that what you will. reader is as gender neutral as physically possible. reader is also lowkey a crybaby, sorry but actually I'm not

Notes: Hello adoring public. It turns out, I can write fanfiction, and with the encouragement of Juno and Ems, I can also post it! There is a cat in this, she was inspired by a cat my family used to have and a cat my family currently has. They're both calico which I think explains everything you need to know about them.

There’s a lot you can say about the day you had today, and most of them start with sh- and end in -itty. You’re thinking on this as you dive head first onto the rough material of your couch, great for sitting, bad for face planting. You hear a scratching by your head and absentmindedly bat your cat away from the arm of the couch, mumbling something about how she has a perfectly good cat tree two feet away before resuming your completely justified sulking.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t hear you come home. How was your day?” There’s a voice above you and you can picture him in your mind's eye, leaning against the back of the couch as he stares at your limp form, probably eyeing the shoes you didn’t take off by the door. You mumble something half hearted in response and he huffs before the sound of walking hits your ears and all the breath leaves your body at once. He’s sitting on you. This motherfucker is sitting on you.

“Get off, Minho” You had to tilt your head to the side, it’s hard enough to breathe through couch fabric as is, much less when there’s a full grown man sitting on your back.

“You should answer people when they try to talk to you, jagiya.”

“You shouldn’t sit on people while they’re laying down, yeobo.” Your voice is a lot more acidic than his was and a twinge of guilt settles on you before it dissipates as he shifts and manages to place more weight on your back.

“Hmm. I guess we’re both doing things that we shouldn’t then. How tragic.” His voice is deadpan, and you still can’t see him from where your head is turned- your view is limited to the back of the couch and his arm in your periphery- but you can feel the dead stare he’s aiming at your skull. There’s a silence for a few moments while you engage in a war of attrition, neither of you willing to give up just yet, but it’s getting genuinely hard to breathe and your back is starting to hurt.

“It sucked, please get off.” He does, patting your back consolingly.

“See? Was that so hard?” He guides your head to his lap as you both sit back down, petting over your hair like he would his cats. “Tell me, what’s got my baby in such a tizzy?”

You grumble at him, rolling over to shove your face into his stomach, tired and petulant. He sighs softly, but keeps patting your head, so you know he’s mostly just doing it for show.

“That kind of day, hmm, jagi?” And you nod again. Honestly, it wasn’t much different from a normal day, it’s just that the right things managed to go very wrong and subsequently ruined your day in a way that has pressure forming behind your eyes and your voice cracking stupidly every time you try to talk.

You both sit for a while before he puts something on the TV and gently shoves your head off his lap.

“Hey-”

“Do you want the dinner I worked so hard on to go cold?” He has his hands on his hips in front of you and you laugh slightly at how funny he looks. He rolls his eyes and goes, coming back with two bowls of something before he forcefully sits you up and shoves it in your hands.

“Eat.”

“Yes, chef.”

The food is delicious, it always is when Minho cooks it, he’s got a talent for it you’ve never really seen firsthand, and you consider yourself truly blessed to be able to eat it as often as he’s able to make it for you. Still, gratefulness and taste aside, your day was shitty enough that every mouthful tastes like ash and turns to rot in your stomach, leaving you with an unsettling queasiness that shouldn’t ever be attributed to your boyfriend’s cooking. You’re shoving the contents around with a spoon before he huffs- a real one this time- and takes the bowl from you, setting it on the coffee table next to his own before he mutes the TV.

“Okay. Quite clearly something is wrong. What can I do to help you?” You think he knows, but you like that he asks anyway. Minho always asks, always lets you talk and sort out whatever’s going on before he tries to help. Even if your answer is a simple shake of the head, a simple, I don’t feel like it, become a mind reader, he always asks before he helps. Sometimes you wonder how he always knows what you need, others you just decide to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

You huff and your lip wobbles pathetically and he coos, slightly condescending.

“Crying already? I haven’t even done anything.” He’s teasing, but his hands are gentle as he pulls you into his lap, his hands are gentle as they find their way under your shirt, his mouth is gentle as it kisses down the side of your face to your neck.

“‘M sorry,” you’re not the biggest fan of crying, neither is he, but for different reasons. He’s not someone who’s brought to tears easily, you are, but there’s an inherent shame in it, you think. Something so embarrassing about getting worked up enough to start crying like a baby, and so as much and as often as you feel like crying, you don’t. This he also knows, because he knows everything.

“Aish, why are you sorry for? I didn’t tell you to apologize, did I?” He taps your cheek lightly, causing you to look up at him, he plants a kiss on your nose, then your mouth.

“Sweet thing, don’t worry about anything except for what I tell you to, okay?” And you nod and he smiles.

You’re not much for talking in times like these, everything is so sensitive and soft and talking feels like a cheese grater on this cloudlike moment so you don’t and he knows, so he doesn’t chide you for it. Usually, he would. He’d crack a hand down on your ass or grab a fistful of your hair and tell you that he asked you a question so he expects an answer, but that’s not what you need right now, so he doesn’t. He just kisses your jaw again before he puts both of his warm hands under your shirt and lets his fingers poke at your chest.

He always says his hands are small, but really, you wouldn’t be able to tell, not with the way he cups your chest in his hand and lets his thumb brush over your nipple, gentle and reverent. It’s not much, not as much as he usually gives you, but it’s enough to have your mouth dropping open with a gasp and your back arching into his hand, it’s enough to have him giggling softly at your reaction.

“Sensitive today?” He’s teasing again, as soft as he is right now, he’s still Minho, he still likes to poke fun. You huff, biting at his shoulder softly in retaliation and he lets you, pinching your nipple just this side of too much in retribution before one of his hands wanders down to your ass, groping and squishing the flesh. Your breath stutters in your chest as he pushes your hips forward onto his, friction sending sparks up your spine.

“Min-” You’re desperate and he hasn’t even done anything yet, not really. A few stray touches and you already feel yourself shattering to pieces in his grasp, you’re not afraid though, and not quite ashamed. He’ll take care of you, he always does.

He does it again, guides your hips forward until you’ve gotten the hint to keep going by yourself and you’re struck with the urge to kiss him, so you do, removing your head from the home it’s made on his shoulder and making a go at his mouth. It’s messy, your coordination shot already, and you almost smash your forehead into his nose before he catches your head with a laugh.

“Easy there. Bloody noses aren’t exactly sexy.” You disagree, he could make anything sexy, but you don’t have time to voice that thought as he pushes his mouth onto yours and lovingly shoves his tongue down your throat. The kiss is messy, they always are. However gentle he is, he can never seem to stop himself from kissing you until your face is covered in drool and spit, and if it were anyone else, you’d be mildly repulsed, but you like the way he looks at your mouth after it’s over, so you let it slide. 

You pull away, chest burning and heaving and look at him before you still, eyes drawn to something by his head.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” You don’t answer, gaze still drawn away from him.

“There’s a little white girl staring at me.” He turns his head to the side and laughs as he comes face to face with your cat, her green eyes boring into him. He scratches her head affectionately and lets her headbutt him before your center of gravity is shifting drastically and you’re clinging onto him for dear life.

The bedroom door shuts before you’re very aware of it and suddenly there’s a mattress under your back and a Minho over your front and his hands are up your shirt again, this time shoving it off of you until your chest is bare. You shiver slightly from the cold and then there’s a blanket being shoved around your shoulders and you smile up at him. He knows you so well, he loves you so much and your eyes are welling with tears.

“Aigoo, my little crybaby. It’s just a blanket,” there’s a kiss on each of your cheek bones, “silly thing. Save your tears for when my cock is in you, hmm?” Your breath stutters again and your hands are tugging at his shirt until he takes it off, he laughs again when your hands immediately find his chest.

“I’m glad someone appreciates my hard work.”

“They’re nice boobs.” The sentence catches him off guard, makes him laugh hard enough that he loses his balance a little and his weight settles onto you more. It’s comforting, like a weighted blanket that can talk and walk and kiss you silly.

Then, his hands are under your bottoms, tugging them off your legs and you’re suddenly wearing nothing and he’s still in his pants, which you find disgustingly unfair. You reach down and tug on the hem off his sweats, pouting and huffing until he gets the message and tugs those off too.

“You just want to get me naked,” he starts. “I can’t believe you just want me for my body.” You nod cheekily in response and he smacks your shoulder.

“Yah! See if I’m ever nice to you again!” But he’s kissing your neck again as his hands guide your legs to cross over his hips before he’s touching you in a way that steals the breath from your lungs and makes your head tip back into the pillows.

“There we go. So pretty when you’re like this, hmm? So soft and sweet for me.” His fingers are in you now, pressing insistently against that spot that makes white splash in your vision and reflexively forces your legs shut. He grunts slightly as your thighs squeeze around his hips, pressure just this side of uncomfortable. He doesn’t say anything though, just keeps his pace steady inside you until you’re almost tipping over and he stops. You look at him with something akin to betrayal, fresh tears springing to your eyes, but before you can open your mouth to complain he’s sliding home and you don’t have enough air to say anything anyway.

He catches it though, rolls his eyes as he sees the way your attitude was about to flare up.

“What did I tell you earlier, jagiya? Don’t worry about anything unless I tell you to worry about it. I always take care of you, don’t I?” He does, he’s good to you like that. He sounds slightly out of breath already, unusual for him, but you don’t mind because it feels like you’re seconds away from God’s doorstep yourself.

His pace is slow and deep, bass knock steady even as you squirm under him. If this were a normal situation, he’d stop, hands gripping your hips unforgivingly until you stayed still, but this isn’t a normal situation so he lets you wiggle, only huffing in mild irritation before he leans down to kiss you again.

“You’re gonna knock us off the damn bed, baby.” But he doesn’t make any move to stop you, and you feel too good to really process his words anyway. You love him, you really do, and you’re struck with the overwhelming urge to tell him, to let him know, to make him know. You grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging in until he hisses and levels you with a glare, one that instantly softens when he meets your eyes.

“I love you,” it comes out of you as a sob, like it was wrenched from your vocal chords before you gave yourself permission to think it. “I love you so much.” You’re rambling now, repeating those three words over and over and Minho coos, hips faltering just slightly. He always goes weak when you tell him you love him, and you keep it in your back pocket like a weapon for the times that you’re in trouble.

“I love you, too, jagiya. ‘S that why you’re crying? Hmm? Love me so much it’s gotta spill out from your pretty eyes?” You nod in response, breath hitching from the pleasure and the tears and his hand drifts from its place on your hip to touch you again and you’re spilling liquid heat before you can really register what’s happening. You feel him inside you, too, insides suddenly molten warm but you’re floating too high for it to feel like it’s happening to you, like you’ve been temporarily ejected from your body.

When your soul settles back into your bones, Minho is laying next to you, staring at you with his wide eyes, you look over at him and smile.

“Is boba really worth it?” He looks confused at your question before you poke him on the eyelid and he laughs.

“Feel better?” You consider for a moment. Your teeth don’t feel like they’re too big for their sockets and your bones no longer feel itchy. You’re hungry, but mostly, your mind is quiet. There’s no overwhelming pressure behind your eyes and when you talk your voice cracks from sleep instead of from the force of choking back tears.

“Much. I’m hungry, though.” You give your best impression of puppy eyes at him and watch as his eyes roll to the back of his skull. You’ve been told that your pleading face looks mildly perturbing, but Minho always says you remind him of Soonie when you do it. It makes you feel slightly bad for Soonie, soon the cat isn’t going to be able to get anything off of Minho because you’ll have rendered him immune.

He comes back with your reheated bowl in one hand and your cat in the other.

“She screamed at me until I picked her up. Stood on my feet and hollered.” He winces slightly. “I should’ve put on boxers because she almost mistook my dick for a toy.”

[arts-bloody-rose]

Blood of A Rose - Turning Point (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - (Y/n) has always dealt with harsh criticism when it came to her work, but that never meant she was immune.

Notes - Sorry for the wait for a new post! I decided that weekends will be my off days from writing to preserve my sanity 💀

Word Count - 2,031

Warning(s) - Bullying, violence, mild gore

Song Inspiration -

Acsida - Privet Privet 2009

(Y/n)’s small living room was dimly lit by soft, flickering candlelight, casting shadows across the walls that seemed to stretch and twist in strange patterns as her TV hummed in the background. She sat on the floor, legs outstretched as her back leaned against the couch, absentmindedly working on a small canvas resting on her lap. 

Art lounged on the couch behind her, his head tilted as he silently browsed through channels, glancing down at (Y/n) and her work occasionally. His now pristine hand played with her hair mindlessly, combing his fingers through it as he found the texture satisfying. 

(Y/n) didn’t mind, though. It made her aware of his otherwise silent presence, which she had come to call home. It soothed her and kept her relaxed as she worked. 

Through their time together, they soon found that regardless of nearly being polar opposites, her more calm and reserved demeanor greatly complimented his boldness and chaos. Their shared interest in death was what drew them to each other, but everything else just seemed to perfectly fall into place for them. 

Art surprisingly came to respect her personality as she respected his. It was refreshing for him, in a way, which he never thought was even possible until she proved him otherwise. 

It started out as curiosity, wanting to understand how someone with such interests could be so tame. That curiosity then grew into an obsession, taking note of her smallest behaviors. Whether it was the way her nose twitched when she didn’t like something, or simply her breathing patterns. He knew everything there was to know about her. 

She dabbed her brush into a deep crimson, dragging it across the canvas in harsh, deliberate strokes. (Y/n) could feel Art’s gaze lingering on the piece, and for a moment, she wondered what ran through his head when he saw her art. 

“You like it?” She asked, her voice soft and curious. 

Art didn’t respond with words, as usual. Instead, he sat up, his silent movements almost ghostly as he leaned over her shoulder. His head cocked from one side to the other as he carefully observed the piece. He then grinned with a thumbs up, patting her shoulder in approval. She placed her free hand over his.

“Thanks.” (Y/n) giggled.

“I just don’t understand how someone would  think it’s appropriate to ever publicize something like that.” 

The laughter stopped, both of them looking up to the TV screen settled on a talk show. 

“I mean, think of the children! They could run into it on the internet and be traumatized and need therapy.” 

(Y/n)’s gaze hardened, heart beginning to race as she took in their insults. She chewed her lip as she watched, nearly drawing blood.

“Trust me, I don’t think they’re the only ones who need therapy -“ 

The channel suddenly changed, remote in Art’s hand as he frowned at the screen and waved it off in distaste. He then looked down at (Y/n) who began to calmly clean up her area. 

Too calmly. 

She stood up, taking her supplies with her as she made her way to the sink to clean everything off. His eyes followed her carefully, paying attention to every minor difference or change. As soon as he caught her mouth twitch he rose from the couch. 

He walked over to her, or rather stalked, and slapped a hand on the counter beside the sink as he faced her, leaning against it. She didn’t look at him until she was finished cleaning, drying her hands and giving him her best smile, albeit fake. 

His grin was wide, encouraging, and he motioned for her to do the same with his fingers. When she didn’t and simply giggled half heartedly, his smile dropped and he tapped his chin in thought. 

Art’s expression then turned mischievous, baring his teeth again with a Cheshire smile as his hands slowly reached for her, his fingers wiggling menacingly. 

“No.” (Y/n) pleaded at first, taking a hesitant step back. “No - Art!”

She shrieked when he snatched her, holding her against him as he tickled her relentlessly. He laughed silently as she squirmed and cackled, using all of her strength to try and worm her way out of his grip, but they both knew he was far too strong for such a feat. 

“Okay! Art, I’m fine - I’m okay now!” The clown stopped tickling, but still held her. He peeked his head from around her to watch her face to determine if she was lying or not. 

As (Y/n) caught her breath, she looked up at Art with the usual glimmer in her eye that he so adored and he firmly nodded before letting her go. 

She sighed dramatically and he wiped his hands off together proudly, giving her an ‘ok’ symbol with a wink and heading back to the couch with a pep in his step. 

(Y/n) shook her head in exasperation, rubbing at her temple before following him. 

The following day, they both worked in silence at their hideout. Art sat at his workbench, tinkering away while (Y/n) sat on the floor against the stove beside the desk, filtering through her photos on her camera. A small radio played in the background, (Y/n) humming to a familiar song every now and then while Art nodded along with her. 

It was one of their calmer nights, the two of them deciding not to go out and to simply spend time with each other, even if it was just sitting in the other’s company. 

(Y/n) saw Art’s hand motion for her in her peripherals, looking up at him finally. He pointed to her then to the stool left unused, then to the floor and flung his hand out as an exasperated question. 

“I’m comfortable, Art, I promise.” 

(Y/n) giggled when his head ticked at her stubbornness. He then pointed back at the stool aggressively, and then next to the edge of the desk with a determined expression. 

“You want me to be closer to you?” Art nodded and she laughed. “Well why didn’t you just say that?” 

She nearly snorted as she stood up when Art threw out it arms, silently telling her ‘what the fuck?’. She brought the stool over to his desk and sat on top of it, camera in hand for her to resume what she had previously been doing. 

Her laughter died down to a chuckle. “You know I love teasing you, I hardly ever get to.” (Y/n) reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze. Art rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her before turning back to continue modifying one of his weapons. 

“I personally think she’s just trying to use shock value to get some traction on her work.”

Their ears caught as they continued to work, however Art glanced over at (Y/n) every now and then. 

“She’s trying so hard to shove it down our throats for attention when it’s nothing more than glorified gore.”

“Be glad I don’t shove something else down your throats…” (Y/n) grumbled to herself, the initial pain of their insults gradually seeping through into anger and irritability. 

The clown’s movements froze at her words as he stared at the desk in front of him with parted lips. 

With however long they had been together, not once had he heard her threaten another person, regardless if it was empty or not. She had always kept quiet and to herself when met with confrontation while he was the one who dealt with it accordingly. At least, what he considered to be accordingly. 

Art slowly shifted his eyes over to look at her, seeing her click the buttons on her camera casually as if she never said anything. 

And for once, he wondered if he was going crazy. 

He then looked back at the weapon in front of him, glanced at her once more, then slowly went back to working. 

One night, however, they decided to go out once they began to feel a sense of boredom, something they both passionately detested. 

Feeling particularly clingy, (Y/n) took to latching herself onto Art’s arm rather than just holding his hand. He gladly accepted it, throwing her a giddy smile and practically shaking with excitement. 

As they walked, (Y/n) noticed how much more comfortable she had become walking out in public. Art fed into her confidence, deliberately or not, and she held her head higher. He made her feel appreciated, feel important in a world where all she had before him was herself and the captious stares of those around her.

On the more rare occasions where she walked out on the town by herself to grab a bite to eat or restock on supplies, she crawled back into herself ever so slightly. Regardless, she was still more self-assured than she previously had been. 

“Maybe something with feet? I feel like I don’t focus on feet enough.” (Y/n) thought out. 

Art simply listened from beside her, genuinely intrigued and in his own thoughts about what he could do with his next victim - or victims - for her. 

She gasped suddenly and Art, ever the dramatic, jumped with a surprised expression. “A mouth!” (Y/n) looked over at him with an animated expression. 

Art tilted his head at her with his eyebrows raised, letting her know that he agreed. 

“Mouth it is tonight.” The clown wiggled his eyebrows at her perversely and she lightly backhanded his chest. 

“Oh shit, are you (Y/n)?” They heard a somewhat distant voice express. Ahead of them, a woman leaned against a wall, phone in hand as she waited beside a small food joint. 

Art and (Y/n) shared a suspicious look, continuing to walk until they were close enough to decently communicate. “Yes?” She answered with caution. 

Art made a simple decision from beside her, accepting the woman’s unwilling offer that was too easy to pass as he set down his bag while they talked. “This is so weird seeing you in person. I always hear about you but never thought I’d actually meet you!” 

(Y/n)’s eyes squinted with confusion, unsure of where the interaction was going to lead to. “Thanks? Like is that supposed to be a compliment?” She replied warily, almost irritably. 

“Oh no, I’m not a fan or anything, it’s just weird finally seeing someone you hear about a lot.” (Y/n) deadpanned, a familiar feeling of distaste building in her abdomen. 

Art, however, rather than growing defensive and upset, looked over at her curiously, letting the conversation work itself out with underlying mischief.

“It’s like if you met Jeffrey Dahmer in person, you’d just look at them like what the fuck, because of the shit they’ve done, y’know?” 

(Y/n)’s tongue ran along the inside of her cheek, casually looking over at the clown’s bag on the ground. As the woman continued to ramble, (Y/n) stepped over to it and began to search through its contents.

Art’s eyes widened, a grin spreading wide across his painted face in anticipation. “Like if the word edgy was a person -“ 

The woman was cut off as a shot echoed through the town. 

Art watched as the woman slid off of the wall and thumped onto the ground, then eased his eyes to look over at (Y/n). 

Arm straight out, the gun in her hand pointed at the bleeding woman with an indifferent expression, then lowered with a heavy sigh as she turned to toss it back into his bag after turning on the safety.

“I’m tired of this shit.” She mumbled to herself and rubbed at her forehead then looked up at Art. “Sorry. Let’s go find someone else for you.” 

Art was rigid where he stood, staring at her with an intensity that began to pull her out of her vexed state. He took a step towards her with predatory intent, grabbing the back of her neck and tugging her into him, their lips crashing together unexpectedly. 

(Y/n) froze at first, caught off guard by his behavior before she slowly began to melt into it, cupping his jaw in her hands. She gasped breathlessly for air when they parted as he silently heaved. 

“Does that mean I’m next?” She whispered. He flashed his teeth sadistically, leaning in once more.

Tag list: @callsignwidow

[blackynsupremacy]

CO-PARENTING A

PUPPY WITH COOPER

HEADCANONS

pairing: cooper koch x black!fem!reader

summary: the amazing adventures of you and your best friend, cooper koch, raising your fur-baby, daisy.

contains: fluff, crackfic, platonic relationship between reader and cooper, reader and cooper are roommates, swearing, a little bit of sadness, mention of pet death, chaotic family dynamics, nicholas is mentioned, reader has a little crush on nicholas, teasing, playful banter, playful arguments, texting: reader, cooper.

taglist: @supaprettyg @sabrinasopposite @rosiestalez @ellethespaceunicorn @tryingtograspctrl @greengoblinswifey @hnch33rios @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @xoxoglittergossip @stereotypicalbarbie @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu

a/n: this is my first time writing for cooper, so show him some love! plus, this is my first time writing for a platonic pairing.

• you moved to l.a. to jumpstart your modeling career.

• after so many odd jobs and small scale projects, you’re finally selected to do a shoot for a designer brand.

• that’s when cooper koch enters into your life as your co-star for the shoot.

• he had to be the finest man you’ve ever worked with.

• when he first sees you, he’s already hyping you up about your appearance.

• “oh, my god, you’re gorgeous!”

• you were nervous as hell, but he swooped in and reassures you that you were the first choice for this project, so you better own it.

• from that day on, his encouragement has helped you build confidence in your looks, talents, and skills to reach your career goals.

• behind the scenes, you get to know each other better. just chatting it up as if you two knew each other your whole lives.

• you exchange numbers and social media info.

• when you return to your hotel, your phone pings to see that it was indeed cooper himself that texted you.

• when you made enough money, you were definitely going to secure your own apartment one day. it’s hard out here and you’re trying your best.

• you two start off with small talk obviously and he asks if you would like to meet for coffee, so you accept.

• it’s refreshing to move somewhere new and you already have someone to hang out with without feeling like they have ulterior motives.

• you two are like two peas in a pod.

• not to mention how much in common you guys have. music, movies, books, fashion, food, you name it.

• you just both have a different taste in men.

• you told him about your dreams of modeling and dominating the fashion world one day.

• there wasn’t so much to offer in your hometown, so you decided to board a plane, take most of your clothes, a little bit of money, and officially start a new life in l.a.

• he tells you about his love for modeling, but wants to expand to acting.

• you hype him up just as he did for you.

• “don’t forget me when you get your first oscar!”

• as the weeks go by, you’re either at shoots, working, or kicking it with cooper. whether it’d be at the park, the mall, the club, or his place.

• one day ya’ll were watching reality tv at his place and he brings up the topic of your living situation. you’re a little embarrassed, but you’ve built a trust in him during this friendship, so you spill the beans.

• “well, you can stay here as long as you need.”, he offers.

• you quickly try to deny it because it was your choice to move out here on your own and you were saving up for an apartment anyway.

• you just didn’t want to impose on his space.

• “it’s literally fine. we’re basically platonic soulmates, i have an extra room, and i like having you around, so why the hell not?”

• you gave him the biggest hug. you felt like a thousand thank you’s weren’t enough to show your gratitude.

• you obviously tell him you’re going half on the rent with your savings.

• as well as with cooking, cleaning, etc.

• within the next week, you’re settled in cooper’s guest room! you got your clothes, basic toiletries, and a key that he’s graced you with for when you come home and he’s not there.

• he’s so humble every time you tell him how grateful you are to meet him and how much more bearable this decision has been for you.

• you guys have made house rules and boundaries for yourselves and each other. there’s a big difference between being good friends and housemates.

• fortunately, you guys keep both ends of the bargain.

• it’s been about two months and you guys’ friendship is closer than ever. you’ve had your differences, but you and cooper don’t play each other! period.

• cooper has brought you completely out of your shell.

• ya’ll are chaotic.

• a real comedic duo.

• you guys argue like an old married couple sometimes.

• you’re the type of friends that steal each other’s phones and take up storage by taking the funniest selfies.

• you guys airdrop memes to each other while in the same room.

• if one of you goes out on a date, he loves to help with your hair and makeup while you help with his fashion.

• he doesn’t mind holding your handbags or buying you products for that time of the month.

• when it comes to your careers, you don’t hesitate to put each other on.

• you trust him to watch over your drink.

• you’re also acquainted with his other friends and you’ve connected with others in the business, but cooper is your day one.

• you were starting to get some footing in your modeling career. you’ve managed to shoot for some clothing brands, book a few commercials, and get your face on a billboard!

• you’re doing the damn thing.

• cooper’s been doing his thing with auditions and booking small roles here and there. you’re still hyping each other up and working hard to get your big break!

• one night when you guys were out to dinner, there was a burning question you had,

• “coop, how do you feel about dogs?”

• “i think they’re pretty cool, why do you ask?”

• “they’ve just been on my mind lately. i’ve seen them at the park, on tiktok…” you trail off for a moment.

• “i also had one coming up in my hometown, but he’s no longer with us. god, i just miss him! i don’t know if i could love something so much and then they can’t live as long as i do.”

• “oh, no! i’m so sorry for your loss, n/n! i bet that must’ve been hard for you. unfortunately, it’s the circle of life, but i know that one day you’ll get that happiness back. trust me.”

• two weeks pass since the conversation and cooper has been all in his phone. when you ask him about it, he just said that it was for an audition in another state and that he had to fly out for it in a few days.

• of course you believed him and promised to hold down the fort while he did what he had to do.

• while he’s gone, he’s been getting some packages from amazon.

• one was so huge, you had to ask the driver to help bring it in.

• you were a little confused on why cooper had so much of this stuff ordered. you wanted to so badly see what was inside the boxes, but out of respect for his privacy, you resisted the temptation.

• you were relieved when you heard the doorbell ring and saw that it was your best friend. you were going to come in for a hug, but it looked like he was holding something wrapped in a blanket.

• this man unwraps the blanket to reveal a light brown, purebred poodle puppy.

• you were shook.

• you stood there staring at cooper then at the dog then at cooper again.

• “cooper…what the fuck is that?”

• he just presents his cute, cheeky grin while cradling the dog.

• “this is daisy. she’s basically our daughter now…that’s if you’re willing to keep—”

• “shut up and just give her to me.”

• he just laughs and carefully places daisy in your arms.

• he snaps a picture of you cuddling her like she’s a newborn.

• “so, there was no audition?” you quiz.

• “nope.” he confirms.

• “and those amazon packages—“

• “things for daisy? absolutely.”

• you gaze down at the puppy in your arms and give cooper a hug of gratitude.

• you thank him a hundred times for being such a great friend. you can’t believe that he really remembered a conversation from two weeks ago and devised a whole ruse, just so he could surprise you.

• you and cooper love daisy to bits!

• she’s so tiny, fluffy, cuddly, and playful.

• belly rubs are her favorite.

• her government name is daisy elizabeth koch-l/n.

• her other aliases are daisy-waisy, dd, stink stink, baby girl, pookie, mama, and daisy girl.

• ya’ll are so clingy over her, you argue about whose turn it is to hold her.

• “cooper, you’ve been holding her for five damn minutes. give me my baby back!” you impatiently demand.

• “first of all, i just got her. second, we both know that she’s a daddy’s girl.” he sassily retorts.

• daisy is very loved and spoiled.

• you bought matching t-shirts for all three of you.

• cooper takes her out to walk in the morning.

• you take her to walk in the afternoon/evening.

• but when she needs to go, either of you take that opportunity.

• once a week, you three take a stroll through the local dog park and meet other dog parents.

�� potty training her was a bit of a struggle. you’d both dislike it when she’d mark her territory on areas like your beds or the couch, but at the end of the day, she was just a baby, so could ya’ll really stay mad?

• nah.

• you both look online to get her house-broken. you determine finding the area, a bathroom schedule, her water intake, and so much more. you both do your best at home to train her before paying extra.

• after some practice, patience and progress, she was good to go! (outside that is)

• she has her own car seat, personalized pink collar, the best healthiest brand of puppy chow, treats, toys, you name it.

• cooper even got her seven pairs of pajamas a pair for each night.

• ya’ll were lucky that you guys were bringing in a bag because that, the rent, grooming, and her vet bills were piling up.

• speaking of the vet, daisy had to get her shots.

• cooper held her as the nurse did so and you could’ve sworn you saw him about to tear up when he heard daisy whimper in pain.

• they love daisy at the vet because she’s very calm, very demure, and very friendly.

• she uses her puppy dog eyes to her advantage.

• you thought that cooper was a sucker for falling for that, so you had to be the “i’m putting my foot down” parent. you could never fold.

• you took daisy to the pet store just to get her more food, nothing else!

• she hears another dog chew on a squeaky toy and she’s already trying to follow the sound. you hold on to the leash.

• “no, pookie, you already got two new toys that you haven’t played with. you can thank your dad for that.” you grumble, perusing the options.

• the louder the squeaks got, the more she tug at you. you turn to give her the “mom stare” and not just any stare, the one your mom gave you when you were coming up.

• daisy stared at you with those adorable eyes. you were trying soooo hard not to fold, so you made a compromise.

• you just got her a pup cup.

• if you go out with her and she acts like she’s got some sense, she earns one. it was beneficial for you because it was free and you got yourself a little something for being thee best dog mom.

• you would pick up something for cooper, but you were getting your lick back since he wanted to get her those toys that she got bored with.

• daisy is a little curious and sneaky.

• you bought cookies from crumbl and you stupidly put the box on the coffee table just to run out to get the mail.

• it’s not even five minutes and you walk in to see daisy munching on a chocolate chip cookie.

• in a panic, you immediately snatch the cookie away, scoop daisy, and go straight to the vet. they were grateful that you got her there so quickly, that they could treat her.

• after they treated her, she turned out to be fine and you were so relieved that it wasn’t the worst possible outcome. if anything happened to her, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.

• you texted cooper to keep him in the loop when you guys were cleared to go home. he commended you for your quick actions, but you lowkey blame yourself.

• you know now to put any potential dangerous foods out of her reach.

• cooper likes to teach and train daisy some new tricks.

• you’d video them while she’s showing off the new skill he’s been working on with her.

• she can sit, roll over, lay down, give her paw, and shake on command.

• he gives her a treat every time.

• cooper is such a proud puppy dad.

• when one of you sneeze, daisy runs right to the rescue to make sure either of you are okay.

• when both of you are away, you have to watch her through the camera you’ve installed to make sure she’s alright. you even set out mats for her to use the bathroom just in case.

• you were so proud of cooper when he was casted in the “monsters” series. he’s worked really hard to get himself out there and you couldn’t be more proud of your best friend.

• his schedule was getting busier, so he wasn’t at home that often. daisy was starting to whine as she looked out of the window for her dad.

• you took a picture and sent it to him.

• • •

come scoop our daughter, she won’t stop crying. 😢

• • •

ughh i miss her more. she’s like the best thing that’s ever happened to me. 😭

• • •

oh so fuck me right? 😐

• • •

oh and, there’s you too. 🙄🫶🏼

• • •

you’re about to piss me off.

• • •

i would like to speak to my daughter while i still have a break, thank you! 🥱

• • •

keep playing with me before she gets a new step daddy. 🫡

• • •

cute. anyways just answer the phone when i facetime, so i can see daisy!

• cooper lights up when he comes home because when he walks through the door, daisy is already wagging her tail and running in circles.

• he actually got permission from the director for you and daisy to see him in action on set.

• the crew loves you both!

• they all want to pet or hold her with your permission of course.

• especially cooper’s fine ass co-star, nicholas chavez.

• it was hard not to have a bit of a crush on him. his good looks and charm were irresistible.

• he can’t get enough of you two.

• you laugh every time daisy is all over nicholas because cooper gets a little jealous.

• you and nicholas sometimes joke that daisy has found a new dad and with the way nicholas is built, shit, why not?

• cooper be ready to crash out.

• like, boy, BACK UP!

• that’s his daughter, the fuck?

• but all in all, you guys have a great time.

• you were just living it up in l.a. with your two best friends.

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

absolute sucker for older bf leon (vendetta, re6, death island) tbh we need more headcanons 😭😭😭

can you write a older bf leon x shy yet clingy gf (definitely not self inserting) headcanons?, like yn is shy, doesnt talk much but tries to show love through acts of service and words of encouragement etceteceg but at the same time shes always around him, wearing his clothes, trying to copy the way he does things and such,,

nsfw or sfw up to you 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

OLDER LEON YES. this is definitely death island leon idc what anyone wants to say to me.

When the two of you first meet it’s through Claire and Chris, Claire rambles on to Leon about how amazing you are and Leon can’t help but stare at you as you poke at the food on your plate. Then when Claire and Chris are screaming over the board game later that night, Leon leans over to you as he watches the two bicker.

“Crazy bond huh?”

Leon felt his heart pounding in his chest as a wide smile spreads across your beautiful face, nodding your head.

He can tell you’re hesitant too so he doesn’t push much, just talks to you about the most random things.

——

And when you guys finally do start dating, you’re always at his flat. Doing his laundry, folding all his shirts perfectly for him and ironing his dress shirts.

You do all his dishes, dust all his furniture, and by the time he comes home from the long list of meetings he had, he’s so stressed out and his head is pounding from an excruciating headache. He looks around his now extremely clean flat, smiling at the sight of you standing in the kitchen making food for him.

—-

Or when he finds out they’re trying to get him to get back in the service when all he wants to do is relax, listening to him argue with people on the phone ALL day long. He finally hangs up, looking out the window of the bedroom and there you are, right by his side. Your hands rubbing his arms as you try and calm him down.

“It’s going to be okay, they call you because you’re the best. That’s all.”

Your words soothe him immediately, his arms wrapping around you pulling you into him tightly. His chin resting on the top of your head before he closes his eyes, kissing at your hair.

——

NSFW WARNING i’m serious don’t read if you’re uncomfy.

Even in bed Leon has always noticed how hesitant you are, how shy you are.

Like when he’s hovering over you, his hair tickling your face as his hips push into yours at a fast pace. Your hand comes up to cover your face as the moans pour from your throat but Leon’s hands are so much stronger and faster, grabbing at your wrist and laying them beside your head.

“Don’t hide from me, let me take care of you..”

Leon mumbles against your ear as his thrusts become more ragged, his pretty lips curling into a smile as he licks his bottom lip as he watches your face twist in pleasure, that familiar blush he loves so much spreading across your face

———-

Leon sitting in the living room the morning after, just watching the news, his eyes shifting to the hallway to see your feet dragging against the floor , his shirt draping over your body.

“Morning, sunshine don’t you look lovely.”

His sarcasm makes you give him a dirty look as you run your fingers through your hair trying to comb it out. Leon’s eyebrows raise as he watches you start brewing coffee for yourself, since when did you drink coffee? Even more shock spreads across his face as you just drink the coffee- black. Just like he does.

“Anything you can do, I can do better.”

You mumble tiredly as you eye him from the kitchen, taking another sip of the coffee.

“Yeah apparently even my attitude too.”

He chuckles, a soft scoff leaving his lips as he changes the channel of the TV.

[notapradagurl7]

Christmas Slump.

Black Fem! Reader x Lando Johnson.

Tv Show: All-American Homecoming.

Summary: You were spending Christmas with your friends, Cam, Simone and J.R. in your house, you had seasonal depression, they decided to help you and your boyfriend Lando wanted to see you.

Taglist: @lavnderluv @soft-persephone @harmshake @westside-rot @siqueth @liatreads @thecookiebratz @thecapodomme @mypointlessdays @keyera-jackson @satoruya @planetblaque @hxneyclouds @hoodbarbiesims @glitterperms @amplifiedmoan @avoidthings @judymfmoody @justhornyyme @life-in-the-slut-house @sageispunk @megamindsecretlair @sweettea-and-honeybutter @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @slippinninque @galaxybam2 @briathecreator @babybratzmaraj

A/N: happy holidays! currently going through some seasonal depression and decided to write it away, don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, feel free to ask for a request! ❤️

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, fluff, praise,( male receiving) mention of seasonal depression, protected sex, voyeurism, comfort, the reader being sad but was comforted, soft Lando, submissive Lando, AU where Lando and Simone never dated but remained friends,

—————

The tall green Christmas tree shone brightly of red, green, blue, white lights with the smell of warm Christmas sugar cookies wafting through the air while you sat on the light green suede couch, a mug of warm cocoa in your hand. Taking a sip from it and allowing the chocolate to seep into your tastebuds. The four walls surrounding you are painted in chocolate brown decorated with pictures of you and your friends.

Simone stood by the Christmas tree while decorating it, smiling at the decor. Until her eyes landed on you, a distant look in your dark brown eyes. She walked over and sat beside you.

Cam and J.R. were speaking to each other about his position in baseball and Cam with his music club.

Unfortunately, you were currently going through seasonal depression with classes expecting more of your effort, and the stress overwhelmed you.

Honestly, you couldn't wait for the New Year to arrive already.

Your knotless ginger box braids tied back in a ponytail with your melanated skin shone brightly under the recessed circle snapped lights, dressed in a toffee-colored sweater and black sweatpants, white socks and slippers on your feet.

Thankfully, Simone started a club where black women on campus could have a safe space, to vent about their problems and find solutions. They can feel safe and secure in it.

In the space of your house giving you solace, you were equable and had no problem telling your trustworthy friends about your problems. You were tired of putting on a brave face.

If you could immure the emotions completely and throw away the key, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Your emotions were important, as was your mental health and well-being, not only to you but also to your friends, including your boyfriend Lando, with whom you've been in a relationship for three years.

“Hey, are you okay, girl?” Simone asked softly, her face softened in concern while lips fell into a frown.

You shook your head, your face resting in your palm as you turned around to face her, she gently plopped on the couch beside you.

“The holidays haven't been so merry for me Simone, It's the classes, the stress and expectations of being perfect.." you admitted softly, your voice trailing off.

“I felt the exact same way when I was going through my treatment, tennis and trying to keep it together, as a black women we can have a safe space. Y/N”

You smiled at her words of encouragement, you stood up and hugged her tightly and she reciprocated the warm gesture. “Thank you, Simone,”

“Anytime, that's what I'm here for,” Simone reassured softly, her hand rubbing your back.

With the help of your friends, you danced to music, baked cookies, and binge-watched classic Christmas movies.

But a special someone else was missing in the picture, Orlando. He noticed that

A knock on the door caught your attention, taking a bite of the pink Christmas tree cookie in your hand before swallowing and folding it in a napkin. “I'll get it!” you hollered,

You hurried your way toward the door, when you opened it. There stood your boyfriend Orlando, with a warm smile and bags of gifts in his hand.

“Orlando! I missed you!” you exclaimed, pulling him into a hug just as tightly as he held the gifts.

“Surprise!” Lando exclaimed, stepping inside and wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.

Orlando hugged you back, as the gifts were taken by Simone, J.R. and Cam with gentle smiles toward you and your boyfriend hugging each other.

Hey beautiful, I missed you more,” Orlando smiled, kissing your forehead.

“Lando, you didn’t have to come all this way,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. Your head lifted and looked up at him.

“Of course I did. I know you’ve been feeling down, and I wanted to be here for you,” he replied, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you, offering a sense of comfort that you hadn’t realized you missed so much. He closed the door behind himself and kissed your forehead sweetly.

You smiled at his words, feeling a flutter in your stomach. “You’re the best Christmas gift I could ask for,” you said, your heart warming at his thoughtfulness.

“Speaking of gifts I figured we could make this a little more festive,” Lando declared, winking playfully as his hand hold yours.

Simone, Cam, and J.R. peeked from the living room, their expressions shifting from surprise to delight. Giving their friend some dap and pats on the back.

“Lando! You made it!” Simone cheered, rushing over to give him a hug.

“Good to see you, man,” J.R. added, giving him some dap.

“Merry Christmas, brother,” Cam chimed in with a smile.

You resumed to watch movies, laughing and playing games in the company of your friends and boyfriend. Making the gloom fade away.

Afterward, you bid farewell to your friends and classmates, they walked out of your house, heading toward Cam’s car and drove away.

Finally leaving you alone with Orlando. He sat beside you with the gift he brought for you in his hand. “And this is for you,” He spoke warmly, handing you the present.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piquing as you accepted the beautifully wrapped gift adorned with a shiny red bow. "You really didn't have to, Lando. Just being here is enough," you said, your heart swelling with affection.

"Just open it," he urged, a playful smile spreading across his face. You grinned back, the warmth of his presence making the holiday gloom fade again.

With a flick of your wrist, you tore into the wrapping paper, revealing a sleek, simple necklace that sparkled under the lights. "Oh my gosh, Lando, it's beautiful!" you gasped, holding it up to admire the intricate design.

“I saw it and immediately thought of you, it reminds me of beauty and I want you to wear it and remember you're not alone, during times like these,” He

“Thank you,” you whispered, blinking back tears.

You felt a warmth radiate from your chest, and as you leaned in closer, your lips brushed against his.

The kiss was sweet at first, a gentle exploration that quickly ignited into something more passionate.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. Your hands rested against his back. “Let’s head into my room,” you announced boldly.

The both of you stood up from the couch, made your way to your bedroom. You've been trying to become bold when it came to your desires.

Gently pushing him, his back touched the soft sheets of your bed, his breath hitched. “Someone’s getting bold,” he teased, his eyes on you hovering over him making his dick harden in his sweatpants.

“You good with this?”

“Let’s make this night all about us,” he promised, his hand trailing down your body. You could feel the tension melting away, replaced by a warmth in the room.

You undressed him carefully, he did the same for you, clothes littered across the floor. Reaching over the bedside dresser, grabbing the small box of condoms. You picked one up, as you looked back at Lando.

With a teasing glance, you let your hand trail down his thigh. You wrapped your fingers around him, feeling him grow even harder beneath your touch. “I'm gonna take care of you,” you moaned softly, moving your hand up and down his dick with a firm yet gentle grip.

His groans, muffled grunts filled the room, “Y/N, that feels so fucking good..” he groaned again,

Encouraged by his reaction, you picked up the pace, using your thumb to roll around his sensitive tip. “You’re so good to me, so handsome, so

Your eyes locked onto his, watching his face contorted in pleasure from your precise touch. “Right there, baby,” he praised, Every sigh, every mention of your name spurring you on, his hips pushing into your hand.

After teasing him, his thick jets of cum spurted out and poured down his dick and your hand, your tongue lick his dick clean and your hand. you gently slide the condom on his dick and hover over him again.

His hands gripped your hips and aimed his length at your entrance, sliding yourself down on his thick dick. Every inch filled you completely.

“Oh fuck..baby,”

Your hips moved at gradual pace, your hands rested on his chest, pleasure flowing through every part of your body. Your walls choked his dick tightly, his teeth dug into his bottom lips.

The room was filled with the sounds of your breaths mingling, the soft slapping of skin against skin, and the little gasps and moans escaping your lips. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the familiar knot of pleasure tightening.

As you picked up the pace, Lando's hands moved to your thighs, pushing you down harder against him. "That's it, just like that, You're taking this dick so well." he encouraged, his voice a mix of praise and raw need.

You leaned down, capturing his lips again, the heat between you two radiating off the bed as it creaked. Lando's fingers dug into your skin, guiding you as you found that sweet spot, the one that made your head spin. “Oh..fuckkk! Lando!”

He watched your cum ooze down onto his, your ass clapped against his pelvis,“I love it when you mess on my dick,” he moaned raspily, his eyes rolling back.

“Baby, I'm close,” he warned, his voice strained.

“M-me too,” you admitted breathlessly, the tension reached its peak. You could feel that familiar wave crash over, and you wanted to take him with you.

His thumb rolled your clit in circles, you screamed out his name, your body shaking underneath him and fell onto his lean body, your nipple brushed across his, his lip trailing along your neck.

“I love you,” he groaned in your ear.

“I love you too,” you panted heavily with a smirk.

You collapsed onto him, rolling beside his body. Both of you panting heavily as the room falls into a peaceful silence. Lando brushed a braids from your face.

“You okay?” he asked in concern, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

“Better than okay, Thank you for being here for me, knowing how to make me feel loved” you replied, a grin spreading across your pretty face.

Lando picked you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom, and settled in the warm water with soapy foam, cleaning the both of you clean.

Lando helped you out, changed into some comfortable attire for sleep, he changed the sheets and blankets, he laid by your side with blankets warm from the dryer. The lemon scent aired the fabric, Kissing your forehead lovingly.

Your heart lifting at the sight of him, his dark curls framing his face perfectly, his warm brown eyes sparkling like the lights on the tree behind you.

————-

[veren-cos]

Bachelors (Sdv) x reader!

Comfort after a rough day. Nothing too specific in this one, really lighthearted ngl

Sam

• Would definitely let you sit on his lap and just let everything out

• Whether it is anger, sadness, general overwhelmed, he does not care and just wants to br there for you.

• Once you cry it all out you are just. So tired.

• He would for sure sing you to sleep. Like, he is the leader of a band, he has to be good at it!!

• Eventually carries you to your bed, and in the morning he wakes up extra early to make you breakfast.

Sebastian

• He would prep everything at home to literal perfection.

• Bed would be made, crops would be watered if you hadn't yet, animals fed.

• Specifically the bed tho. He washed and dried (with extra time to make them super warm) the sheets and blankets. Even fluffed the pillows, but he doesn't think it actually does anything.

• Once everything is all done, it is definitely cuddle time

• Wraps you up in his arms and just starts talking

• You love the sound of his voice, and just listening to him talk about his day is really comforting

• He is big on distracting people to comfort them, and then talking about it later.

• The next morning you two talk about what was going on, but he is just a big sweetie.

• Very much an actions instead of words man with comforting.

Alex

• Would cook something

• Aka cookies

• He spent a lot of time with his grandma cooking so yeah

• He is almost definitely an acts of service or physical touch kinda guy.

• Will help you with everything on the farm for the rest of they day.

• If he isn't doing anything, he would probably give you extra help the whole week just to make it up to you.

• Wouldn't exactly know how to be comforting but he would definitely listen about whatever is going on. He just maybe wouldn't know what to do after (me too buddy me too-)

Harvey

• Oh he would know you were off right away.

• He isn't necessarily good with words and providing comfort, but he is still extremely successful in showing he cares.

• He makes you your favorite dinner, and while he won't prod, he encourages you to talk about your day and how your feeling.

• You watch a comfort TV show together, and end up just spending a lot of time together as a distraction.

• If you do talk about it. Harvey will try and help in whatever way possible.

• But he just wants to be there for you!

Elliott

• Runs a bath for you

• Uses all his fancy stuff that even he barely uses

• Washes your hair and talks to you about your day

• Gets you to calm down and relax!

• Might play the piano as you fall asleep?

• Once you actually are asleep, he gives you loads of cuddles!

Shane

• Sets a chicken on your lap when you come home for the day.

• That's it.

• It always makes him happy to spend time with the chickens and other animals.

• So yeah. Chicken!

An* I don't remember writing basically any of this. I found it in my notes app and literally Harvey was the only one missing. So yeah! This was a surprise for me too lol

Want more? Here is the Masterlist!

[theresattrpgforthat]

Mint Plays Games: What Pre-Generated Characters Can Do For You.

From July to October of 2024, the Dice Exploder Discord Server ran the Pregens Game Jam, a game jam all about using characters that have been created for a specific table, or that have been created to streamline the process of learning a game.

Incidentally, at the same time, I was setting up the playtest server for Protect the Child, and, primarily inspired by Yazeba’s Bed & Breakfast, I decided to run my play-tests using a pre-gen format: I’d run a series of sessions using pre-generated characters, that could be picked up by various players depending on what games fit their schedules. I did this out of necessity - my hours are all over the place, and I can’t consistently run games at the same times on the same days.

As we started play testing, I noted some interesting things happening among my players. The first thing I noticed was that the players latched onto the pre-generated characters fairly easily - and their attachment caught them off guard. More than one person told me that they were surprised that they could care so much about a character they didn’t write themselves.

The second thing that I noticed is that players were really excited to take ownership over a character. Certain character story-lines or backgrounds resonated with them, and as a result some of my play-testers are making a real effort to come back so they can see the next chapter of their character’s story. It’s really gratifying, knowing that there’s something in these pre-gens that has them coming back for more - it feels kind of like having a favourite character in a tv show or book. Since I’m the one who wrote those pre-gens, I won’t deny it does a good thing for the ego!

For folks in the Dice Exploder server, this might not come as a surprise, as I’m sure experiences in games like Chuubo’s Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine and Eat the Reich have both been hot topics in the ttrpg podcast sphere recently. These kinds of games are likely one of the reasons why the pre-gen game jam was such a hot event.

However, I think there’s some more potential that could be pulled out of this. I think embracing pre-gens can do a number of really interesting things for your ttrpg experience, both in one-shots, as well as in longer campaigns - and I’m going to digress about that, after I talk about four games that I used as experiments over the past month.

Lady Blackbird

I ran Lady Blackbird for the Open Hearth this past month. It’s a game that is exquisitely designed, because it makes the on-ramp for new players so easy. The characters written for the game are well-defined, with explicit personalities and goals that are designed to mesh well together and give the group reasons to both work together and engage in character friction. It’s also got some really stellar advice on improv, which was invaluable to me back when I was a first-time GM.

So much of the game asks you to turn to the players to build on the world around them. How does Captain Vance feel when Natasha talks about her pirate lover? Is Snargle intimidated or enthralled by Naomi? What kind of jail is the group stuck in, and why does Kale know a way out? From the get-go, the players are encouraged to throw in bits and pieces of the world, and the GM can then pick up on those bits and pieces and turn them back on the players, making the world relevant to the pieces that the players are interested in.

The group who ran it was great: everyone was willing to add to the world, and riff off of what had already been built. The characters sought out connections with each-other, and I found it rather easy to work in the elements that folks had indicated they were interested in - primarily butch lesbians, magical mishaps, and rebel activity.

The players also have a lot of creative control over their characters. You don’t have to stick with any of your characters’ pre-written goals: Natasha can give up on the search for her lover, Naomi can forego her quest for vengeance, and Snargle can choose to stop their witty banter whenever they like. As a reward for a big change in personality, the player immediately gains access to a new goal that tells us what they prioritize, and still rewards them for leaning into it. Every time I run Lady Blackbird, the players’ interpretations of their characters is different, and that’s what makes the game so re-playable for me.

Subway Runners

I also ran Subway Runners on the Open Hearth. Similar to Lady Blackbird, Subway Runners uses pre-generated characters, but these characters are randomly generated: their motivations, skills and equipment can be used to develop a personality, but those personalities aren’t customized with the narrative in mind. Of course, the narrative isn’t really planned ahead of time either - your characters will always go on missions in the subway tunnels and come across strange critters or magical problems, but the details of any given foray are also randomly generated.

This doesn’t really stop the players from making some really strong choices. One player noticed that both his character and another were looking to find the cure for immortality, so they turned it into a rivalry. Another player noticed that his character had been given a spider-silk suit, and made it a key part of their character’s presentation. The randomly generated mission told me that it would involve a bunch of raccoons in a Death cult, so I wove that together with the monster description to make the monster the raccoon’s interpretation of Death.

Overall, the pre-generated nature of Subway Runners is incredibly useful in making it a no-prep, easy-start game. I don’t think I’d recommend it as a first-time game in the same way I’d rec Lady Blackbird, primarily because I think the GM needs to have a strong understanding of Forged-in-the-Dark rules to keep the game running smoothly. However, I think Subway Runners definitely solves the time problem - you don’t spend precious game time creating a character, and a busy GM can still have an adventure put together in five minutes.

Blades in the Dark

I wrote up some pre-gen characters in Blades for my home group, pre-selecting the Smugglers crew, and taking a one-page mission out of Hour of Chains, a series of unofficial Scores written by A Couple of Drakes. The players showed up, chose a character from a pile, and wrote in their name, background, look, and a few pips. Their core stats, connections, and abilities were all chosen for them, and I told them that while they had to start at Brisco’s Noodle Palace, they could decide why.

The players had a lot of fun coming up with shenanigans, but at the end of the session, one player told me that they would have appreciated a fully-created character, complete with backstory. Another player told me that they weren't sure whether or not they were “allowed” to do something with the lore, as Blades has some lore built into the setting, and it’s hard to parse what is immutable and what is up to interpretation. I personally love coming up with the canon on the spot, but for folks who are new to this style of play, it seems that having some of that lore pre-defined might give them some confidence when it comes to determining what their character “would do”.

Compared to Lady Blackbird, I think this observation makes sense. Since Blades uses playbooks, I think the choices when it comes to motivations are made when the player choose a playbook. I had the ability to select the playbooks that I thought made the most sense for the Score I chose, but there were still enough playbooks available that all of the players had multiple options to choose from. Out of all of the sessions I ran with this experiment, I think that Blades was the weakest, and I think the reason for that is because I left so many pieces of the set-up undefined.

Apocalypse World

For Apocalypse World, I wrote up a very specific setting, and designed the characters using the Mad Max series and the Silo series as primary inspirations. The post-apocalyptic settlement was an underground bunker with levels sectioned off for various jobs. I chose a series of playbooks that resonated with the setting I had in mind, and pre-selected gear, followers, stats and abilities. I also wrote up three threats, with loose ties to at least two playbooks each, with the expectation that I could pick up whichever threat made sense for the playbooks my players decided to engage with.

In short, I did exactly the opposite of what the Bakers recommend in the game: I planned nearly the entire thing beforehand.

That being said, I think the session was a really strong one. The players were quite happy to pick up the characters and play into the conceits I’d designed into them, for the most part, although one person did a bit of toggling with their gear to more suit the character they wanted to play. It took a little bit for folks to warm up to the confrontation mechanics, but when they realized how much the game encouraged turning on each-other, we were off to the races.

We ended the game with scenes that pointed to a snapshot of a larger story, which felt fitting despite the fact that I typically see PbtA systems as games that really reward you if you stick with them for a multi-session campaign. However, I went into the session expecting to play a one-shot, and we got a really fruitful experience out of it.

The Takeaway.

While I can still see the merits of creating your own character, and I certainly won’t stop running games using that format, I think that I’ve developed a newfound appreciation for pre-generated characters, whether they are built into the game, or they’re made to make the game easier to learn.

Pre-gens also solve a lot of problems that can be common in new tables: your characters already have a reason for working together, you can learn how to play the game using a template that’s built to work well, you have more time actually spent playing together, and you can engage with a story that your character is designed to be relevant to.

Pre-gens also give the GM a chance to build their own desires and boundaries into the story from base one: in Lily’s Angels, a pre-gen setting for Protect the Child, I was able to bake in the themes about transphobia, religious violence and state violence into both the setting and the characters. The people who sat down at that table sat down because of those themes, not in spite of them. In all of my one-shot games, regardless of how much of the character was written beforehand, the nature of the game meant that the players still had agency over who their characters were and what they did. The background was a jumping off point - it gave everyone a base to work from, and as time went on, they found their own reasons for engaging with the story as it was presented.

Additionally, in all of the games where the characters had strong backstories and well-defined personalities written into them, the players found reasons to really care about what was put there on purpose. A player who picks up Cyrus Vance in Lady Blackbird might pick them up precisely because they’re in love with Natasha, and a player who picks up Sal in Yazeba’s B&B probably wants to engage with the artist’s struggle to find his signature style.

If you go the extra mile, I think you can use this set-up regardless of the game. In Apocalypse World, the work is a little more than normal, but I don’t think it’s terribly much. In Rotted Capes, World of Darkness, or Call of Cthulhu, I think that it’s a substantially bigger ask, but traditional games are also very likely to have pre-gens as part of the book, built for starting adventures - it’s just a question of whether that starting adventure is actually right for the kind of game you want out of that rule-set.

When it comes to my own game, Protect the Child - I made the pre-generated settings primarily to make play-testing easier, but I think I’ve stumbled on a little goldmine by accident. Using setting packs for a new table takes away a significant amount of set-up for the GM, and gives new players concrete characters that communicate the goals of the game without having to struggle through a series of character choices first.

Oh, and I also wrote a setting for the Pre-Gens game jam: Protect the Child: Digital Glitch. It’s a game designed to talk about disability, corporate subscription models, and questions of ownership, and I think it’s pretty rad.

[mrsrileywrites]

Hi! I read lots of your work and im SO IN LOVE!!! Like I absolutely fell so hard for papa simon 😭😭 i wanna give him a babyy! But i was wondering, how would pregnancy be like with his child. I mean bro is HUGE so his baby would probably be not only pretty big and probably weight a little bit more too than an average newborn. If its okay with you would it be possible for you to write a little story maybe add a little bit of angst? (Idk like argument about something that made the reader really sad?) but please a happy ending 🥹

Feel free to ignore if thats not your thing or just not feeling comfortable writing about it!! LOVE YOUU!! Btw sorry for any misspelling English is not my first language.

First of, as a not native English speaker, your English is perfect.

And second, thank you for your kind words, it really encourages me to keep writing and also boosts my ego 😁

You asked in such a nice and respectful way so I really want to make you happy.

Now here's the thing, I'm an adult with lots of responsibilities and sometimes adulting makes me tired, like last night when I was trying to finish this but I fell asleep and I woke up this morning to find half of my writing disappeared, it just vanished 🥲

But I'll give you this to munch on and I promise I'll finish this before the end of the week.

I hope this is what you were expecting... Enjoy 🫶

A little over 700 words.

_______________________

You stood in front of the sink of your bathroom, holding a pregnancy test on your shaky hands, two little red lines staring right back at you.

How did this happen? How would you tell him? He doesn't want kids, he made it clear from the beginning and you accepted it without a fuss, that's why you've been taking your pills diligently every day, you didn't forget one, did you?... No, you know you didn't, how did this happen?

"You okay there, love?" Simon knocks on the bathroom door and you jump in surprise, like a child that's been caught red handed.

"Y-yes Si, j-just give me a minute... I'll be right there." Your period is about three weeks late so you bought a pregnancy test, your best friends advice, it wouldn't hurt, it was just to make sure, you certainly were not expecting this.

You hid the test on the cabinet under the sink and washed your face before coming out.

It's been a week since your ob-gyn confirmed a six weeks pregnancy and you still haven't found the courage nor the right time to break the news to Simon, so when he gets a call from Price to get deployed on a long mission you fear it would be too late by the time he comes back.

One month at most he said when he kissed you goodbye almost two months ago, you are 16 weeks into your pregnancy and your bump is starting to show, which only adds to your anxiety, between the morning sickness and your hormones being all over the place you still haven't figured out how to tell him.

As you ponder how to break the news to him, you realize that a simple phone call wouldn't suffice. With him stationed on the other side of the globe, risking his life every day, you hesitate to burden him further. At the same time, you know it wouldn't be ideal for him to return home and suddenly find you waddling around with a baby bump.

So you stay quiet and whenever he calls and asks why you sound so exhausted you blame it on your job, you say you are just stressed out, and he promises he'll take care of you once he's back, he'll relieve you from the stress the way you like it, the way only he knows how to.

You are laying on the couch wearing Simon's t-shirt, stuffing yourself with your favorite ice cream and watching trash tv when you hear fumbling outside your front door before it swings open, a very rugged Simon stands in the threshold , you curse under your breath, he didn't say he was coming home the last time you talked on the phone three days ago so you stand there and look at him overly conscious of the bump hiding under his t-shir and you thank the heavens he is a big man, you think the loose fit of his T-shirt would buy you time, your ice cream long forgotten in the coffee table.

He walks towards you with long strides as he pulls his balaclava over his head running his fingers through his messy hair and you shy away, you step back and freeze, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, he stops in his tracks and tilts her head, his eyebrows pinch as his eyes linger on your midsection and you know you're fucked, he noticed, how wouldn't he, and you hope and pray he'd say something, anything, but he doesn't, he turns on his heels ready to walk out.

"Simon wait!" You call for him and he stops, his hand lingers on the door knob, "I can explain, please just hear me out" your voice cracks and you wish you had been brave enough to tell him before, you know about his childhood and his trauma, you know his struggles and why he didn't want children in the first place, he trusted you and you broke his trust, you deceived him from the moment you found out you were pregnant and decided to keep it to yourself because you were too scared to trust him back.

"Explain what?" He shouts turning around and walking towards you again, your hands fly to your belly instinctively, protective. You lower your head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.

[mokachibidibi]

Heyy, how are you doing, dear? I just stumbled across your prompt list soooo can I request number 11, 13 and 18 for Jongho? I'm not sure if you are willing to do the same prompt for OT8, but I just thought about them having their first serious relationship and I couldn't miss the opportunity. Thank you!

Hey! I'm doing pretty well, I hope you are too!^^ I'm sorry it took me so much time, but thank you for the request. I love the idea, so it's my pleasure to interpret it in my own way. I hope it turned out to your liking!

PS.: I love your writing!!

If you'd still like one for just Jongho let me know^^

There Is No Guidebook To Life

Summary: This is your first relationship, and you need reassurance. 

Pairing: poly!ot8 x fem!reader

Prompts:

"I've never been in a realationship before, so I don't know how this really works…" "Wait! Don't pull away… Not yet." "Quit smiling at me, I can't stop messing up my sentences with you looking at me like that."

Genre: Fluff, (maybe, but not really angst)

Warnings: Insecurity

It is the first time that you'll be sleeping over at the guys' apartment. You have been together for two months now, but it still feels weird to be in a relationship. You weren't sure how to behave or what to say in some situations.

The guys have known each other for years now, but the relationship formed only recently. Some of them needed more time than others to realize their true feelings.

It was Wooyoung who had brought up a poly relationship when we finally all sat down and talked about the things that were bothering us. I was happy with the idea of sharing my love for them and being able to see the others with each other too.

But the guys had no experience with these kinds of things, which made them a bit unsure. I was glad that they were open to it, and I tried my best to reassure them.

Wooyoung and Mingi are very flirty, so they had no trouble telling you how they feel and showing their affection. Yunho is a bit more shy and needs some encouragement to be able to do those things.

San and Hongjoong were the two who needed more time to realize their feelings for the others. The group didn't talk much about those kinds of things before you came along. But they were open to it.

Yeosang was the one who didn't need a lot of time, but he still wasn't sure what to do, and he was afraid of making a mistake.

"What would you guys like to do?" San asked the group when you were all in the living room.

"I want to cuddle" Wooyoung answered, and the others nodded.

"We could do a cuddle pile?" Mingi added.

"Let's watch a movie together" Yunho said, and he sat down on the couch.

"That sounds nice" I said, and walked towards the couch to sit next to him.

Mingi took place on my other side. Wooyoung quickly walked towards the TV and searched through Netflix to find a good movie.

"What kind of movie would you like to watch, baby?" Yunho asked me while putting an arm around my shoulder.

I smiled and put my head on his shoulder.

"I would like a romantic one."

He looked at the TV screen and nodded.

"There is this one; it looks nice."

"Good, let's watch that" Wooyoung said and pressed play.

When he was done, he went back to the couch. I moved closer to Yunho and made space for him on my other side. He sat down and wrapped an arm around my waist.

The rest of the group sat down as well. Seonghwa and Hongjoong sat next to Mingi. Jongho sat next to Yeosang, who sat next to Yunho. San had moved closer and was now sitting on your lap. His head rested on your shoulder.

You looked around the room; everyone seemed happy and calm. It was a great feeling.

When the movie started, we were all silent. Everyone focused on the movie.

I loved being surrounded by my boyfriends. It was the best thing ever.

During the movie, San started to play with my hair. He ran his fingers through it and occasionally stroked my cheek.

I looked at him and saw a faint smile on his lips. His eyes were filled with adoration.

I felt Yunho's hand slowly moving up and down my thigh. It was a slow motion. He was barely touching my leg.

I could hear Wooyoung's soft giggles every now and then. When I turned my head a little, I saw that Seonghwa had his hand on Wooyoung's knee.

Hongjoong was resting his head on Seonghwa's shoulder. He looked like he was half asleep.

Yeosang had his eyes closed.

Jongho's attention was completely on the TV.

You looked back at the movie.

Time passed, and it was getting late. The movie was almost over.

Wooyoung's hands were holding your arm, and his head was placed on your other shoulder. He had fallen asleep a while ago.

San's fingers were still tangled in my hair. I enjoyed the feeling of him playing with my hair.

Yunho was still stroking my thigh. His touch was a lot lighter now.

"What should we do now?" Mingi asked.

"The movie is almost over. It would be a shame to wake up, Woo. He is sleeping so soundly" Jongho replied.

"I'll carry him to bed" Yunho said, standing up.

Yunho carefully lifted Wooyoung from the couch. Wooyoung opened his eyes for a moment and wrapped his arms around Yunho's neck.

"Go to sleep, Youngie. We'll join you soon" Yunho whispered.

"Okay" Wooyoung said softly. He closed his eyes again and let himself fall asleep in Yunho's arms.

Yunho carried him to their bedroom.

When he came back, he sat down next to me.

"How are you feeling, Y/n?" San asked.

"I'm fine; why are you asking?"

"Because you look a bit sleepy" Mingi replied.

"Well, it's late; we should all go to bed soon."

"I agree, let's go" Mingi said, and he stood up.

"Let's make a deal: we will not leave each other's side during the night" San said.

"Why not?" Hongjoong asked.

"Because it is a great opportunity to have Y/n close and be able to cuddle with her."

"That sounds like a good plan" Yeosang said.

"Yeah, I agree. Let's do that" Jongho added.

"So, are we all going to the same bed, or..." Hongjoong asked.

"We should probably make some kind of plan, don't you think? We can't all just walk into a bedroom and share a bed without a plan."

While the others were trying to decide how it would be best to sleep, Seonghwa came up next to you and wrapped you up in a warm hug. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, while his other hand gently held the back of your head against the crook of his neck. Instinctively, you slung your arms around his waist and held him close.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, quite flustered by his sudden action. He just hummed and continued holding you close.

His warmth started to make you sleepy, and his hold was just so comfortable. But you didn't want to fall asleep yet, so you gently gave him a squeeze and started to pull back.

"Wait! Don't pull away... Not yet." His tone was quite urgent, and it startled you, so you quickly held him tight.

“We can hug a li--aghh.” You whined; his gaze was so soft and his smile so big, his perfect teeth peeked through his lips.

"Quit smiling at me, I can't stop messing up my sentences with you looking at me like that."

"Like what? How do I look at you?" His question surprised you.

"Like, I don’t know, like I'm the only thing you see.”

"You are."

"And that's why I can't let you pull away." He continued. 

"Seonghwa, I'm not pulling away."

"Not physically, but mentally. I know that this is all new to you, to all of us, but don't pull away, please. Talk to us. I want you to talk to me."

"I'll try, but I'm not very good with words."

"Just tell me how you feel."

"I'm not sure; it's all a bit overwhelming."

"That's normal, just take your time. But I really need you to understand that I love you. All of us do."

"I've just never been in a relationship before, so I don't know how this really works... I feel like I'm walking on eggshells, not because I'm scared of your reaction but more because I'm not sure what to do."

"There is no guidebook to life. We can only learn and grow by making mistakes. We'll all make mistakes, and I can't promise that we'll never get upset or frustrated, but please don't give up on us, not before we've really started."

"I won't give up, I promise."

"That's all I need. And if there is something that you are not comfortable with, just tell us, okay? No matter what it is, we'll listen and discuss it." You notice him looking behind you, and not long after, you feel another pair of arms wrap around you. One is holding you, and the other is rubbing Seonghwa's back.

"Did someone say discussing?" Mingi asked with a big grin on his face.

"Oh, so you were eavesdropping again" Seonghwa said.

"Only a little, but the subject is quite interesting."

"What's there to discuss?" San asked, suddenly standing right behind Mingi.

"Nothing" Seonghwa sighed.

"Oh, I have a suggestion!" Mingi yelled.

"No need to shout" Yunho said and sat down on the couch, followed by Hongjoong and Yeosang.

"Okay, here it goes" Mingi began. "Let's sleep in the same bed."

"We already discussed that, but we haven't decided where we will sleep" Hongjoong said.

"And why not?"

"Well, you can't expect us to walk into the bedroom and share the same bed without talking about it."

"Why not?"

"Because..."

"Because" Mingi interrupted.

"Stop saying that."

"Why not?"

"Will you stop it?!"

"Why not?"

"Mingi!"

"You can't stop me, I will continue this for eternity."

"Mingi, don't test my patience, or do you want to come to my room later?"

"I'll stop when you answer my question."

"Fine, I will answer your question."

"Yes?"

"Because..."

"Mingi! You're being a brat."

"Why not?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

"Ok, enough of that. Wooyoung is already sleeping, we should be quiet." Yeosang interrupted the never-ending banter. You couldn't help but laugh at them, some things would never change.

And you wished for them to never change.

San suddenly sprung up from the couch and dashed to the bedroom. "Everyone sleeps where they want, I want cuddles.".

With wide eyes, Mingi spared one last glance at Hongjoong and went after San.

Jonho came, took your hand, and walked over to the bedroom, only to find the three already cozy and warm under the blankets. Behind you, the rest followed, and Hongjoong was quick to throw himself onto Mingi and bite him in the shoulder.

"That's what you get for being a brat" Hongjoong laughed and settled in next to the younger.

"That hurt" Mingi pouted.

"Then next time, be a good boy" the leader chuckled and pulled him closer, pecking his lips.

"What the hell?" You muttered out loud.

"Oh, did I forget to tell you that Joongie is a bit into biting and being mean? Oops." San teased.

"Oh, shut up, Sannie." Hongjoong huffed, a blush forming on his cheeks.

"Aww, you're blushing." Wooyoung chuckled and pinched the older's cheeks.

"Since when is he up again?" You leaned toward Jongho, covering the side of your mouth as if to hide it. He just shrugged and shook his head.

"I will bite you too" Hongjoong said, but the threat wasn't very convincing due to the red color still lingering on his face.

"Do it" the black-haired man challenged.

"Okay, enough of that. We'll wake up San." Jongho said, pointing to the boy, who was fast asleep with his mouth open.

"Can't we all just go to sleep?" Seonghwa asked with a slight groan.

"Yeah, it's way too late" Yeosang said while lying down, pulling the blanket over his body.

"Finally!" Mingi sighed and did the same, the two of them cuddling closer.

"Well, let's get comfy," Yunho said, and he laid down, patting the space next to him. You didn't hesitate to lay down beside him, snuggling closer to him. He placed his arm under your head, his hand finding its way into your hair, while his other hand was wrapped around your waist. You put one of your legs over his and one of your arms around his torso.

It was really comfortable.

The others were slowly falling asleep. You could hear their breathing. It was nice and calming.

You felt Yunho's body relaxing. He was almost asleep.

Suddenly, you heard someone clear his throat.

"Y/n?" Jongho whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I'm cold; can you move closer?"

"You're even under the blanket, how are you cold?"

"I'm a cold-blooded monster. I need cuddles and body heat."

"Fine, come here."

You could hear him shuffle around, and eventually you could feel him lying down behind you. His chest pressed against your back. His legs intertwined with yours. His arm was draped over your waist.

His forehead rested against the back of your neck.

"You are so warm" he whispered.

"You are so annoying" Yunho mumbled.

"Shh, I'm not, now go to sleep" Jongho shushed him.

"Whatever, goodnight." Yunho sighed and closed his eyes.

"Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, Sannie."

"Goodnight, Yunho."

"Goodnight, everyone" Wooyoung said quietly.

"Goodnight, Woo!" Mingi and Jongho said it at the same time.

"Goodnight, Y/n" Seonghwa said.

"Goodnight, everyone" Yeosang said.

You felt yourself drift off to sleep.

[narcissistcookbook]

about thirteen or fourteen years ago @inkylizard told me about this show Sleep No More (description beneath the cut) they'd seen in an early run in Boston, and i had such bittersweet feelings listening to them talk about it because 1) it was absolutely my kind of thing, and 2) it was basically impossible to see it because it was so far away (i'm Scotland-based)

and since then i probably thought about the show more than most people who have seen it. i ended up working some of what kit described to me into my own music and shows, in a very vague sense

anyway, fast forward over a decade and i'm in NYC for ten days prior to tour and kit tells me that Sleep No More is still on, and it's about to close forever so this is my first and last chance to see it

so anyway

i finally saw it and it was amazing. for once hype wasn't the joy killer. it was inspiring and empowering and it's made me want to explore some of the more outlandish ideas that have been tickling my brain in terms of music writing/performance

i almost went again today, but low energy mixed with a fear of not wanting to dilute the magic by returning to the source convinced me otherwise. i think it means more to me to wait over a decade to see it, and then never be able to see it again.

Brief description of Sleep No More if you haven't seen it and aren't aware of it, told from the perspective of someone who had it described to them once and then saw it once 13 years later and has done no reading or research beyond that. Apologies if I describe it in a way that makes you squirm and go "nooo you aren't explaining it right" 💜

Sleep No More is an adaptation of Macbeth told mostly through the medium of Dance and Vibes. It takes place across the breadth and depth of an entire five floor building called the McKittrick Hotel, which is a dreamlike network of TV/movie-quality sets (a ballroom, a hotel, a city apartment, hell, a street of open shops, a mental hospital, a forest, witches' dens, a huge room full clocks connected to a tiny prayer vestibule, there's too many to mention) and masked audience members are encouraged to wander freely and explore the entirety of the building in any way they like

all the sets are fully explorable and designed to be examined in close detail. if you dig around you'll find letters, medical records, diaries, a fully stocked and unguarded sweet shop, hidden dressing rooms, discarded props, again much more than I could list off here. rooms have backrooms which have other backrooms. secret passageways connect parts of the building/story to other parts.

and through all this the cast are whirling and screeching and sprinting from place to another with little regard for who is or isn't following their storyline. at one point I was one of only two people watching an actor sew up a disembowled teddybear in a child's bedroom - and in the mirror, the same bedroom was reflected covered in blood. at another I was the only person watching a nurse tuck a man made of rocks into a hospital bed. at another, I turned a corner and one of the witches (with about twenty people in tow struggling to keep up) barrelled into me on their way to a scene elsewhere (he stopped and gave me a boop on the nose). another time, i walked into what I thought was an empty interrogation room only to realise after *far too long* that one of the characters was hiding in there with me

and on top of all this, each character has a scene they will only perform to one other audience member chosen by them

the magic for me is that not only can you not see the whole show in a single visit, but that it's basically impossible for anyone to see the whole show period no matter how hard they try. someone i know has seen it seven times and i've seen parts of it that they didn't even know about. it creates a sense of longing for what you'll never see, a sense of loss for the parts you missed, and a deep sense of personal connection with what you were lucky enough to see

what a banger

[ladamedusoif]

Rockford, P.I.

Or: the one where Tim Rockford is a ghost hunter

Inspired by the incredible PPCU AU moodboards by @almostfoxglove!

Pairing: Paranormal Investigator!Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Content notes/warnings: 18+ MDNI; F!Reader; no physical description of Reader; Tim Rockford AU; Reader is Tim’s occasional partner in the business; established working relationship and friendship; friends to lovers; spooky shenanigans; implied smut; fluff; ghosts; references to death; references to alcohol use; references to drug use; strong language; cliches and most likely a lot of stuff that’s not correct about paranormal investigations.

Author's note: I loved @almostfoxglove's PPCU AU moodboards so much and I've been thinking about this story for a while, so when better to finish and post it than Halloween? I know I haven't written in a long time - since the summer, I think - and at the weekend certain discourse made me want to just give up completely and delete every word I'd ever posted. But this was nearly done, and I feel like at least some people might like to see it. So here you are. Happy Halloween, Oíche Shamhna shona daoibh.

And thank you to @mescalpascal for beta-ing this and not letting me get away with just giving up - with writing, fandom, everything.

To find more of my work and get alerts when I post new writing (which will hopefully be more frequently!), follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Ghost divider by @wethairjoel

“Rockford, PI - Tim speaking. How can I be of assistance?”

Tim spins in his battered desk chair, phone tucked against his shoulder and box of leftover takeout still in hand as he listens to the person on the other end of the line, nodding and “uh huh”-ing every so often.

He stops spinning. He puts down the box of cold lo mein. He grabs a pen, and frantically begins taking notes. He asks the caller to send as much information as they can via email.

And then he calls you.

Other little girls at school wanted to be princesses or singers or models or movie stars. You? You wanted to be a Ghostbuster. Forget clean-cut TV stars or the latest cookie-cutter boyband member, your first love was Dr Egon Spengler.

Fast forward a few decades, and your dream had become reality - kind of. Your doctoral thesis on the interplay between reported paranormal activity and its representation in popular culture had produced a few well-received articles and earned you a positive reputation in the admittedly rather specialised world of paranormal and psychical research. It had not, unfortunately, led to a glittering academic career.

Instead, you made a living with a part-time teaching gig at a university combined with a little freelance consultancy work for movies and TV shows, almost all of which ditched your nuanced advice and produced yet another cliched depiction of “ghost hunters” screaming on camera.

And then there was Tim. You’d met a long time back, after a talk you’d given in the city about change and continuity in the concept of the “haunted house”. He was sitting in the front, diligently taking notes and nodding along as you spoke, eyes warm and encouraging - and he immediately made a beeline to ask you for coffee as soon as the Q&A wrapped up. 

Before you parted that evening, he handed you his card.

”Rockford, PI. You’re a private investigator?”

Tim shook his head. “Paranormal investigator. Helps to have most people think it’s the other kind of PI, though.” He called you from time to time, asking for your help on specific cases, sometimes enlisting you as a partner for the duration of an investigation. You always welcomed the extra income, but in truth you helped him out for the sheer love of it - for the chance to feel like a real Ghostbuster, even if Tim worked in business attire instead of boiler suits, and to spend time with one of the few people in the world you felt really got you.

You peer out at the English countryside from the window of the car Tim hired at Heathrow, straining to see something of the allegedly “green and pleasant” land through the miserable grey haze and sheets of rain. The navigation on your phone announces the final turn for your destination. Tim, still getting used to driving on the other side of the road, approaches cautiously and takes the left turn onto the long driveway.

“Whoa.” His voice is awestruck as the car arrives at the enormous country house, now a luxury boutique hotel catering to the rich and famous in search of an exclusive retreat. “We’re a long way from poltergeists in Poughkeepsie.”

You shrug as Tim drives into the small, discreet parking lot to one side of the building. “I’ve done some work on a couple of Gilded Age mansions. This isn’t going to be all that different, right?”

“True,” he muses, climbing out of the car and setting to work unpacking your luggage: a suitcase each, plus several hard-sided cases of vital equipment for conducting the investigation, labelled ‘Scientific Instruments’. “And they did say they think it’s only one manifestation.”

You chuckle as you help him wheel the cases from the car towards the hotel entrance, where a man in elegant livery is already rushing to greet you with a brass luggage trolley. “One manifestation? Please. We got this, Rockford.”

That evening, unpacked, freshened up, and after a dinner meeting with the hotel owner, you and Tim decamp to the library - now a comfortably-appointed lounge with its own bar - to compare notes. The two of you are the only residents, the hotel having temporarily suspended operations in order to deal with the spectral guest.

He hands you a glass of whiskey and settles beside you on the Chesterfield sofa, hair still damp from his earlier shower and his customary attire replaced by a long-sleeved Henley shirt and a pair of jeans. He looks more boyish, the grey patches in his beard notwithstanding, and you find yourself smiling softly at him.

“So: first impressions?”

You take a sip of your drink and reach for your notebook. “First impressions: they must be pretty freaked out to temporarily close down a hotel over one spirit, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? Or maybe it’s unusually troublesome - they mentioned strange things appearing on bedroom walls, guests waking to the sound of a voice shouting for help, weird stuff turning up on TV channels... And they do pride themselves on the whole ‘idyllic rural retreat’ brand, which a ghost doesn’t exactly fit with.” He sips his whiskey and thinks. “Did you find out any more about the death here a couple of years ago?”

”I did - it was weirdly under-reported, given that a celebrity was involved, but I guess people had much bigger things to worry about during the pandemic.” You flip to a different page. “Nothing I found out seemed to contradict the owner’s version of events, though I’m sure they’d be careful to control the narrative if there was anything to hide.”

Tim sucks his cheek, deep in thought, and nods. “I guess we can’t proceed until we see how this thing is manifesting for ourselves. You have everything you need for the surveillance in your room overnight?”

You nod. “And we’ve got the kit set up in the other parts of the hotel the owner mentioned. I think we’re good to go, Timothy.”

He grins, eyes sparkling, and clinks your glass.

Jetlag doesn’t stop you waking as soon as the first rays of sunlight begin to peek around the heavy drapes that adorn the windows of your large bedroom. You’re checking the recordings and readings taken in the room overnight, looking for any indication of paranormal activity, when your phone buzzes with a message from Tim.

Nothing in my room overnight. Anything in yours? 

Not that I can see. You want to check the other equipment before breakfast?

Sure thing. Race you to the Full English.

“Oh, it’s on, Rockford,” you murmur to yourself, reaching for leggings and an old hoodie. You slip on a pair of Crocs, already bracing yourself for Tim’s inevitable comments about your choice of footwear, grab your keycard, and slip out of the room.

It’s quiet in your absence, save for the gentle sound of birds singing outside, the wind occasionally rattling your windows - and the increasingly steady beeping now being emitted from a little device Tim had given you, designed to measure sudden shifts in psychical energy. 

None of the other devices set up elsewhere in the hotel had registered anything out of the ordinary. Tim, typically, is philosophical.

“We just have to wait, do some more research in the meantime, speak to the staff. How’s that breakfast?” He sips his coffee, mug looking comically small in his large hand, and gives you a mischievous look.

“The bacon’s delicious, the mushrooms are great, the eggs are perfect… but I don’t think Cumberland sausages are for me.” You poke at the thick, half-eaten link sausage on the plate. “Not least because ‘Cumberland sausage’ sounds like a fuckin’ euphemism if ever I heard one.”

Tim laughs, the warm sound resonating in the empty dining room. He tops up his coffee and reaches for another slice of toast, and you realise that he seems…different.

“Rockford?” He looks up at you, toast crumbs in his moustache. “What’s going on with you? You aren’t normally this, uh, jolly on a job.”

He swallows his toast and drinks his coffee thoughtfully. “It’s a fascinating case, and I guess I’m just really happy that we’re working together again. Even if you’re wearing those.”

Tim gestures with mock scorn towards your brightly-coloured Crocs, before giving you a sly wink. 

“Are you absolutely sure you want to comment on my sartorial choices, Rockford? Or do you want me to talk about your rotating selection of striped ties from Sears?”

After breakfast, Tim decides to take advantage of the on-site pool and you return to your room for a quick shower before beginning the first round of interviews with hotel staff. The beeping noise is audible before you’ve even reached the door.

You steel yourself and gently enter the room, slowly moving in the direction of the little device on its tripod, various alert lights flashing in sync with the rhythm of its insistent beeps. You transcribe the codes on its screen into your notebook and take a quick video, ready to show Tim as soon as possible. Cross-legged on the floor, you close your eyes for a moment, steadying your breathing.

“I can’t believe they let in someone else wearing Crocs. So much for their fuckin’ dress code.”

Your eyes snap wide open at the sound of the male voice behind you, on the other side of the room. American. West coast, you think. A little…affected? 

In other words: that’s probably not a member of staff.

You get to your feet and turn, slowly, in the direction of the voice.

There, on the other side of the room, sprawled on the sofa, is a man you think must be in his early 40s. His hair is wild, wavy, dark; his eyes obscured by a pair of vintage Ray-Bans. He’s wearing a brown teddy coat, which has slipped open to reveal a shirtless torso and a flash of tummy. A pair of loose grey shorts, wooly socks, and fucking Crocs complete his outfit. 

Definitely not staff.

Though your heart is pounding out of your chest, you find the strength to speak. “Are you a spirit?”

The man slips his glasses down his nose and gives you a withering look. “What the fuck else do you think I am? And while we’re here - why is that…thing making so much noise?”

“It’s to read changes in psychical activity,” you explain. “So it’s probably picking you up.”

The man thinks about this for a couple of moments, as if chewing it over. With a jolt, you realise two things: firstly, that in all your years of working with the paranormal, you’ve never actually seen a ghost, at least not in this form; and secondly, that you recognise this figure.

“So you do know who I am,” he drawls, pushing his glasses back up his nose and lying back on the couch. Shit, he’s more powerful than you suspected - he can pick up on what you’re thinking.

“It’s…it’s you. The dead guest.”

He exhales dramatically and flops his arm over the side of the sofa. “I have a name.”

You rack your brains, afraid to look away to grab your notebook in case he disappears.

“You’re…you’re Dieter Bravo.”

Tim Rockford is on his twentieth lap of the pool when a slow, steady buzzing noise catches his ear, coming from the direction of the tote bag he’d left poolside with towels, a t-shirt, and shorts. He hauls himself out of the water and roughly dries off his face, hair, and hands before rummaging in the bag. “Fuck!”

He’s half-wet and breathless when you open the door to your room, his fist still raised as if ready to continue the frantic hammering that had signalled his arrival. 

“Jesus! You okay?”

He’s turning and twirling around the room, glasses on and fogged up from the residual humidity of his body, holding up one of his own psychical activity detectors. “You…fuck,” Tim hisses as he tries to catch his breath. “You saw it? Where is it?”

“So I’m an it now?”, Dieter drawls, now hovering - literally - in the area of the large bay window. 

“He’s there,” you gesture, calmly, as if being in a room with the spectral manifestation of a dead Hollywood actor was an everyday occurrence. “By the window.”

Tim stares directly at Dieter, but doesn’t register anything. Dieter roars with laughter.

“Oh, babe! Looks like you’re special.”

“I’m special?”

Tim swivels at the sound of your voice, confusion written all over his face. Dieter sidles up to the other man, resting his head on Tim’s shoulder, and you’re struck by a kind of resemblance. Tim shivers.

“He can’t see or hear me. Most people can’t, which makes haunting the fuck out of this place hilarious,” the actor explains. He takes a seat on a vanity table near the window and looks a little wistful. “Annika was the last person who could see and hear me,” he sighs. “Kinda nice to be…” - he wiggles his hands in the air - “visible again.”

“He…he says I’m special because I can see and hear him, and you can’t. Most people can’t. Is this…normal? Am I normal?”

Tim crosses the room and puts a hand on your shoulder, gently caressing it in a gesture of reassurance. “I mean, none of what we do is normal. But yes, this is not unusual.”

Dieter immediately launches into a Tom Jones impersonation, gyrating in exaggerated fashion towards Tim, and you roll your eyes involuntarily. Tim looks hurt.

“Oh! Oh, Tim, no, I was rolling my eyes at him. Not you. Shit, this is going to be confusing, isn’t it?”

The crinkles that form around Tim’s eyes when he smiles make a welcome appearance, and his dark eyes twinkle behind his glasses. “I’m sure we can work out a system for keeping communication clear. Usually, when a manifestation is only visible to one or two people, it means they have some kind of need, or something unfulfilled. And, I guess, they think the witness can give it to them.”

You glance over at Dieter, who is still gyrating. He lowers his sunglasses and grins at you lasciviously.

Over the next couple of days, you and Tim interview hotel staff and examine some of the areas affected by the haunting, to establish a pattern for the manifestation’s - for Dieter’s - behaviour. 

“The random murals appearing overnight aren’t that disturbing, I suppose,” you muse, noting down the details of the artwork Dieter had left in one guest bedroom.

“Depends on what you consider disturbing, though.” Tim rubs a finger against the paint, examining the powdery residue. “I wouldn’t like to wake up to an extra-large rendering of Hieronymus Bosch’s ‘Garden of Earthly Delights’ on my hotel room wall.”

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Well, fair. Though it’s weirdly good, for a ghost.” 

Your psychical activity detectors start to beep in unison and you turn to each other before you spy Dieter, lounging on top of a wardrobe. He’s clad differently, today, this time sporting a green robe, a baggy purple t-shirt, and striped lounge pants. 

And the Crocs.

“I am good. Honestly, if they’d got my heart going again I think I’d have quit Hollywood, y’know? Jacked it all in, got clean, got into art properly. Make sculptures, paint, run a gallery or some shit.”

“He’s talking to me,” you explain to Tim, before turning back to Dieter. “So you’re hanging around here because you didn’t get to make the art you dreamed of?”

“Ugh. I don’t have to explain myself to you people.”

And he’s gone.

In the evenings, the hotel insists on serving you and Tim dinner as if you were ordinary guests, not paranormal investigators tasked with eradicating the ghost of an Oscar-winning Hollywood enfant terrible from the property. The lone waiter serves your five-course meal with the kind of exaggerated formality you had only ever seen in films or TV shows about royalty, respectfully pointing out the various cutlery and accoutrements needed for each course in a low, somewhat fawning voice.

“And voilà, Mr Rockford, your seabass.” He lifts the dome from Tim’s plate and does a little bow. 

Tim is chewing the inside of his cheek and turning pink as the waiter leans closer to his ear.

“A reminder, sir, should you require it, that the fishknife is that delicate little marvel on the right. Bon appétit.”

Tim says nothing as the waiter makes his way across the vast, empty dining room, watching for the door to the kitchens to close properly before he lets out a belly laugh so huge it almost rocks the table you’re seated at. You raise an eyebrow and pour him a fresh glass of water.

“Are you quite well, Tim?”

He’s taken off his glasses and is rubbing tears from his eyes, unable to control his laughter. “Why did he say that about the fishknife? And the fucking dome? I shouldn’t laugh but…”

“You mean you didn’t need to be reminded that the fishknife is a delicate little marvel?” 

Your attempt to replicate the waiter’s tone sets the two of you off this time, and you’re still laughing about it by the time you retreat to the lounge with a gin and tonic each. 

This was the longest you’d ever spent in Tim’s company, you realised one night, sitting with your feet tucked under you on the large leather sofa. There was a lot that you didn’t know about each other, but being stuck in a haunted hotel is nothing if not an ideal opportunity for getting to know someone better. 

You are listening to Tim animatedly telling you about one of his strangest cases. His face lights up when he talks about his work, big hands gesturing for emphasis, eyes bright and focused on you. He listens to you with the same commitment and interest, keenly asking questions and taking in your every word.

When you lean in for a goodnight hug before parting ways, he seems surprised - but pleased, somehow, as he returns your embrace.

Your TV is on when you return to your room. The tell-tale beeping from the psychical activity monitor gives him away immediately.

“Dieter.”

He’s lying on your bed, propped up on one arm, green robe wrapped around him. “Heyyyyyyy. Hope you don’t mind. Wanted some company and I’ve haunted the fuck out of everyone else around here.”

You shake your head and pour yourself a glass of water. “I don’t mind. But if I let you hang out with me you have to answer my questions.”

He groans and flops back onto the bed, though his body makes no indentation in the bedclothes. “FINE. But you have to answer mine.”

“Fair.” You settle beside him on the bed, trying not to overthink the fact that you were literally hanging out with a dead man. “What the fuck are you watching?”

He runs his fingers through his hair in irritation and points at the 90s sitcom he’s watching on some random-ass cable channel. “Allegedly this is a British remake of Who’s The Boss but like, it’s fucking shit. No Danza, no party.”

You pause for a moment. “Speaking of party…can you do drugs, if you’re a ghost? All the evidence would suggest you can’t, but I’ve never actually heard from someone with first-hand experience.”

“I tried.”

“And?”

Dieter grimaces. “I literally threw a couple of tabs of acid through my stupid fuckin’ ghost body, didn’t I. Just…whoosh.” He gestures with his hand. “I feel so real, y’know? All corporeal. But then you try to get high and bam. No can do. I can’t eat or drink, either.”

“You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

He stares at you. “Why do you get to ask two questions in a row? My turn.”

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your water, noticing Dieter staring longingly at the glass.

“Fine.”

He cackles and claps his hands together. They make no sound.

“Are you and Magnum P.I. fucking? You’re fucking, right?”

“Um, no?” You take another sip of water and swallow hard. “No, we are not fucking. We’re colleagues.”

Dieter mimics you, note-perfect, and cackles again. “Bullshit. He’s down so fuckin’ bad for you.”

“Tim is not ‘down bad’ for me, as you put it.”

He sits up, moving into a kind of lotus position. “He is.”

“He’s not.”

“He is, and I know he is because I can literally sense this shit. And I can definitely sense that you’ve got a crush on ol’ Columbo down the hall. Which is fair, I guess. He’s pretty hot.”

You can feel the heat rising to your face, but maintain what you hope is a neutral expression. 

“Oh, Scully is trying so hard not to let her crush on Mulder show.” He smiles a smug, satisfied grin.

“Is he Magnum, Columbo, or Mulder, Dieter?”

“All three, baby.” He hovers about a foot above the bed, pointing at you accusingly. “And you should put him out of his misery. Want me to go check on him for you, see if he’s thinking about you right now?” Dieter wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to get a ghost trap and put you in it.”

“Like in Ghostbusters?!” Dieter seems unreasonably excited. 

“Do you want to be sealed up in a little trap, or would you prefer to continue having free rein?”

He sighs and descends back to the bed. “Ugh. Okay. I’m sorry. But I’m not wrong.”

Dieter fucking Bravo. He was haunting your brain, as well as this hotel.

His insistence that Tim had a thing for you - and vice versa - now coloured every interaction, every conversation between you and your colleague as you tried to discern any evidence that Dieter was right, or that disproved his theory. To your horror, you began to unconsciously hope that he wasn’t just winding you up.

He quickly got in the habit of appearing in your room just before bedtime: staying for a little chat, dodging any of your questions that veered too close to the essential truth of why he hadn’t completely passed over to the great beyond, and asking repeatedly if you and Tim had “got around to fucking” yet. 

“It would be kinda hard for us to get around to fucking with a fucking ghost in my room, don’t you think?”

He laughs his wheezy rasp of a laugh and crosses his hands over his tummy. “Listen, the more the merrier, babe.”

A few moments pass before you break the silence. “Why are you so obsessed with us, with me and Tim, with us getting together?”

He pouts and stares into the middle distance. “I guess…hmm. I want people to get what they want, love-wise.” Dieter discerns your incredulous glance. “What? I mean it! I’m a big fan of romance and happy endings.”

“You can’t blame me for being sceptical, Dieter.”

Tension crackles in the air. When he speaks again, he’s very quiet. 

“Just because I didn’t get a happy ending in life doesn’t mean I can’t believe in them.”

Dieter’s big, dark eyes - or the spectral impression of his big, dark eyes, now trapped in some in-between place, neither here nor there - look at you with absolute sincerity. 

“Is that why you’re still here?”

He turns away. 

“I don’t know why I can see you, Dieter, or what you need me for, but there’s got to be a reason for it. And I can’t help you until you talk to me.”

He huddles deeper into his green robe, and you exhale. 

“Fine. You’re not wrong. You’re right, in fact.”

He doesn’t move, but you can almost feel his ghostly ears pricking up.

“I’m right?”

You close your eyes and bite your lip. “Fuck it. You’re right, I… I think I do have a crush on him.”

This time, you swear you can hear Dieter smile.

“On who?”

“You know who.”

“Say it.” He chuckles to himself.

“Oh, fuck.” You bury your head in your hands. “Why do I need to say it, when you can sense what I’m thinking?”

Dieter rolls over and props himself up, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Because it’s very fucking satisfying. For me.”

“Fuck you, Dieter Bravo. Fine. I - I have a crush on Tim. Happy?”

He nods, and points in the direction of Tim’s room, down the hall. “Mmm. And now you need to tell Timmy so that he can tell you he has a crush on you and then you can go off and have lots of weirdo paranormal-obsessed babies. If that’s a thing you want, of course.”

“Okay.”

Dieter’s eyes widen. “Okay? So, you’re just gonna tell him?”

“I’ll tell him… but only if you let me help you.”

“No deal. Fuck you two, keep on being idiots.”

“I thought you loved happy endings, romance, all that?”

“Nope.” 

You shift on the mattress to face Dieter, and speak more gently this time. “Do you want to be stuck here forever, Dieter?”

He hesitates. “Nope.”

“So, should we make a deal?”

He talks and talks all night, floating around the room, resting on the vanity, on the armchair, on the bed, and at one point drifting in and out of the bathroom - even with the door closed.

And you listen. You listen like Tim listens to you: engaged, curious, open, kind, even, trying to get to the root of what’s keeping this man trapped in between worlds in a luxury hotel in the English countryside.

Unfinished business is a common explanation for why ghosts hang around, you’ve realised. A desire for vengeance, too. Sometimes spirits just want to stay around their families and friends. Once, a long time ago, a client of Tim’s described the work as being like a kind of doula, for ghosts. 

“You help them get out of the in-between,” the lady had said, after Tim had solved the ongoing hauntings in her family’s ranch house. “They just need someone to hold their hand, I guess. Well, maybe not literally.”

Watching and listening as Dieter talks about his life, his death, his successes, his failures, you become ever more keenly aware of how right she was, and more focused on getting him to where he needs to be. To peace.

He descends gently to the ground in front of the TV set. “I can’t deny that the whole Beetlejuice shtick has been fun, most of the time,” he says, sadly. “But you’re right, I don’t wanna be stuck here for the rest of my life. I mean, the rest of my death. I mean -”

“The rest of your afterlife.”

He grins. “Exactly.”

“Dieter… do you think you might just be afraid?”

“Afraid?” His eyes are wide and frightened, giving you his answer without a word.

“Afraid to let go. Afraid to move to the next stage, whatever that is.”

“But that’s just it.” Dieter stares at his Crocs. “You said it. ‘Whatever that is.’ I don’t know what’s there.”

“No one does, though. And most spirits don’t end up haunting entire hotels, they just…pass through.”

He nods. “I guess I always had to stand out, huh?”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you agree. 

He takes a couple of moments to compose himself. “I… I saw whatever the fuck comes next when my heart stopped. Bright light, all that shit. Fuckin’ near-death experience, except I was actually dead.”

“But you didn’t pass through?”

“I feel like my entire self just went ‘fuck this, I’m not done’. But I couldn’t come back, y’know?” He tugs at an errant curl. “I guess…fuck. I didn’t want to be forgotten. Wanted to know I could live on, maybe.”

“You don’t have to stay in the in-between to live on, Dieter. The work speaks for itself.”

He groans. “Some of it does. Never got to rebuild properly, though. Whole lotta shlock in there and one fuckin’ Oscar.”

You bring yourself to the ground beside the spectre. “That’s one Oscar more than most of us will ever have. And plenty of people who died before their time still live on in their work.”

“If you mention the 27 Club to me I will actually haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

“Noted.” You smile at him, cheered by the sight of a little grin on Dieter’s lips. “But you know it’s true.”

“I just never got the happy ending.”

He looks so sorrowful in that moment that you wish, more than anything, that you could hug him - make him flesh and blood, just for an instant again, so he could know the comfort of a warm embrace.

“Maybe the happy ending is off there in the hereafter.”

Dieter arches an eyebrow. “Do you actually believe that?”

You grin and chuckle. “Honestly? Fuck knows what’s after all this. I think I’d rather not know. But even if it’s just a bright light and bam, that’s it - you’ll live forever, Dieter Bravo.”

Tim is bed-headed and bleary-eyed when he opens his door to you at 6.30am, but he smiles widely when his vision focuses and he recognises your face. 

“Have a seat, have a seat,” he gestures to the bed, before blushing a little. “Or I can move my clothes off the armchair, if you’d prefer.”

You perch on the edge of the mattress and shake your head. “It’s perfect here, thank you. I just wanted to tell you that I think Dieter’s…”

Funny how, in spite of doing this job and researching these phenomena for so many years, some cases just get to you. A sob catches in your throat as you try to find the words.

“I think the haunting problem is solved, I guess.”

Tim’s eyes widen in amazement and he sits beside you on the edge of the bed. “Your doula skills, right?”

You nod, tears still threatening to fall at any moment. His strong arms wrap around you and hold you close, keeping you safe as you cry against his broad chest.

“Please do feel free to stay for the next couple of days, of course.” The hotel manager is effusive and grateful as you wrap up the debriefing session later that morning, standing up to shake your and Tim’s hands in turn. “The rooms are booked, we won’t be reopening to other guests until we can redecorate the affected bedrooms. It’s on us, an extra little thank you for dealing with our, uh, friend.”

After lunch, the two of you walk through the property’s walled gardens and admire the various topiaries and water features. All the while, your promise to Dieter lingers at the forefront of your mind.

You said you would tell Tim how you felt, if Dieter let you help him. And he did. And now…

Fuck. And you wouldn’t put it past Dieter Bravo to somehow find his way back from the hereafter, just to haunt you out of spite.

You look over at Tim, who’s taking a photo of the hotel buildings from the gardens, and feel a surge of affection, mingled with anxiety. What if Dieter had got you right, but Tim wrong?

He catches your eye and grins at you. “Hey, come in for a photo?”

You pose beside an ornamental fountain, Tim concentrating as he sets up the shot. He beckons to you. 

“How about a selfie, maybe?”

His arm snakes around your shoulders as he angles the phone towards the two of you and captures the moment: he, suit on but tie loosened, eyes twinkling; you, smiling broadly into the lens.

He brings you a gin and tonic, settling in beside you on the Chesterfield sofa and clinking his glass of whiskey to yours. In the last few days the ritual has become familiar and comforting; and with a jolt you worry that this might be the last time you enjoy it together.

Tim sips his drink in contented silence, watching the flames of the large, open fire. 

“You’re quiet. Is everything okay?”

His dark eyes meet yours as you turn to face him. “I’m…”

Dieter Bravo is going to haunt you if you don’t do this.

What if this is your happy ending?

A large swig of G&T, to fortify your resolve.

“Um, I’ve really enjoyed this whole case, working with…being with you.”

Tim smiles softly. “Me too. It was nice to get the chance to get to know each other better.”

Another fortifying sip. 

“I was wondering…uh. Shit. Maybe, when we get back, would you -”

Your voice dries up in your throat. The next words are barely more than a whisper.

“Would you maybe like to get a drink or dinner sometime? With me?”

For an instant, you can see that Tim is on the verge of brushing it off, of asking why you're being so strange about this, of saying that you regularly meet for coffee if you’re both free, talking about that diner you sometimes go to.

And then the realisation sinks in, and his face softens into a huge smile.

“I would love to take you for dinner. And drinks. Whenever you want, wherever you want.”

He puts his glass down and moves closer to you. Your fingers reach for the end of his tie as your bodies shift ever closer, until he’s holding your face in his hands and his mouth is on yours, kissing you with warm intent.

You’re about to pull him down to the couch, his hands already snaking up under your blouse, when a stern cough makes the two of you jump.

The hotel’s only waiter casts a disapproving glance in your direction and shakes his head as he processes through the lounge to the main bar. 

Your hand reaches for Tim’s and you lead him towards the hallway and the main staircase leading to the bedrooms.

The morning is grey and dreary, rain already pelting against the windowpanes as the dawn light struggles to break through the dark clouds. You press a kiss to Tim’s bare chest as you slip out of bed to use the bathroom, padding swiftly across the deep-pile carpet so as not to wake him. 

The green robe hanging from the hook on the tiled wall of your bathroom is unmistakable, but even so you have to pause for a moment to be sure it’s real. You run your fingers over the textured weave and fabric, noting how (surprisingly) good it smells - faint whiff of weed notwithstanding.

Tim stirs as you close the bathroom door and walk back to the bed, blinking awake and greeting you with a delighted smile.

“Good morning. Nice robe.”

“A movie star gave it to me,” you explain, shedding the soft green garment and pulling Tim’s naked body to yours before he can ask any further questions.

(Sorry, Dieter. Love you.)

[gojoest]

its so hot right now. satorus probably sitting in front the tv watching some comedy show with a wet towel around his neck, shirtless and wearing shorts. i bet he would appreciate being wiped down in with that cool wet towel.

satoru is sitting on the couch with his legs spread open and leaning back. youre sitting on the floor between his legs, facing him.

starting from his neck, you pat below his undercut towards his adams apple. then slowly dragging the towel down to his collarbones. swiping to his left shoulder and then back to his right.

you look up slowly and see satoru is still focused on the tv. smirking, you move the towel down and wipe his right pec, lightly rubbing his right nipple. satoru shivers slightly but continues to watch his show. moving to the left pec, you do the same. wiping his warm chest with the cool cloth, circling his left nipple before lightly rubbing it. his body tenses up and he grabs your hands.

satoru whines, "babe, please. im trying to watch."

you expect him to push you away, instead he pushes your hand lower to his abs. Letting you to continue cooling him down. you wipe his defined abs. up and down, left to right. he hummed at the cooling sensation and goes back to his relaxed state.

you get to his hips, his prominent v-line hips. you move the towel to trace the v shape, almost drooling how sculpted his body is. you had to restrain yourself from the need to bite him there. to create blooming pink and red flowers around his hips.

just as you were finishing up, you noticed satorus happy trail just above his shorts. from your position, you could also see a clear view up his shorts from his right leg.

no boxers

looking up at satoru, still very focused on the show, you leaned your head on his left thigh and slowly move your right hand above his shorts. you bring down your hand to unbutton his shorts, trying your best to not get noticed by satoru. once youve button enough, you can see where his happy trail ends, his soft cock.

its always a mesmerising sight, always so inviting. taking a few glances at his face, you move closer to his cock and kiss his tip. satoru stills and you can tell his brain has short circuited. taking this opportunity, you start to nuzzle into his crotch. dragging your nose and lips, upwards to his happy trail, and back down to his tip. Making to sure to kiss and lick it everytime you came back down. you brought up a hand to start pettting his white fluff. you were in heaven.

satoru breathes in and out deeply. hes trying his best to stay calm and not look down. he knows how much you ADORE his soft cock. he channels as much inner peace as he can to stop himself getting hard. all he wants to do is please you and thank you for cooling him down. but he cant even talk. so he resorts to stroking your head. his stroking encourages you to continue. you cup his cock and begin to palm it, grope it, squeeze it. you've always loved that squishy feeling. his cock starts to leak a little, and before the precum can even collect at the tip, youre already lapping. licking and inserting your tongue into his slit. if satoru could, he would coo at you, tell you how much he loves you, how much of a good girl you are. instead he's shivering and his breathing has gone from deep breathes to shallow breathes.

you look up at your lovers face as you have your lips barely around his tip.

"toru baby,"

"y-y-yes?"

"look at me."

it was as if everything was in slow motion when satoru turned his head down and his eyes were met with the face of an angel.

your pupils were dilated, full of love and your lips were dewey and slightly swollen. All while you were resting your head right next to his pretty cock.

satorus jaw dropped and his eyes were almost popping out.

you giggled at his reaction, "can i make you feel good?"

he nodded so aggressively, "yes, please please please"

----------

i hope you enjoyed this! This is my first time writing smut(?) and i really wanted to write about satorus cute soft cock 😍 it wasnt even meant to be this long LOL!

you can imagine the rest 🤭 also, sorry for the weird formatting and any typos, i typed this up on my phone 😅

anywaysssss, i love satorus soft cock 😘💙

- satorus soft cock anon

my longing for his soft cock skyrocketed after this kskdndn he’s such a good boy trying to stay soft just bc we enjoy it so so much that he can’t even talk, must be really hard for him to stay calm under such pressure but he did so well ! he deserves a reward :3 thank you for this delicious piece 😋🤍

[kuchikopi33]

Thinking about how you and College!Levi got together....

wc: 1131

This is my first ever post! Please don't judge me if this is horrible I'm just a girl :(

Thinking about College!Levi and how you get together…  (fem!reader)

You and him had been (best) friends for months, awkwardly dancing around the obvious romantic tension that was lingering between you two. You never thought you were a coward, but it truly scared the shit out of you when you thought about telling him how you felt. He wasn’t scary—no, he was all things good and kind. Contrary to popular belief at your college, Levi wasn’t a stone cold, stick-up-the-ass loner who took no interest in anything that remotely involves human interaction. Levi was fun, hilarious, and a man of honor and morals. He never fails to tip more than is needed or expected when you guys are out, he never turns down an offer to watch movies all night at your place while talking shit about your classmates, and he always lends you his jacket when you (conveniently) forget to bring one for the second time that week. 

He’s just so great. Great is an understatement. Levi is amazing. You would hate to ruin what you have, a true friendship. You can’t predict what Levi’s response would be. Would he be turned off? Would he distance himself because he doesn’t feel the same way? Would he kiss you? Okay,  that one might not be a bad outcome.

Levi calls your name, successfully pulling you out from your pondering, his hands crossed and body sat up on your bed. You almost feel bad. He’s been here for a half hour to work on your english project, and all you can seem to think about is how much you care for him. You’ve never been this soft in your life. 

“What’s up?” You hum from your place on the bed.

“This project is due in four days, and we’ve yet to even go over what the hell we’re even doing. What’s stuck in that stupid head of yours?” Levi snarks. 

Keyword, almost. 

“My stupid head?” You ask incredulously, with a slight smile. You hate that he makes you smile even when he’s calling you stupid. “I’m not the one who picked me to be your partner. That was on you.” You couldn’t have used any other word than partner?

Levi’s movements stutter there, “You’re the only one I can remotely tolerate in that class. I’ve seen the others, they can’t even write a thesis,” he says. You laugh softly, as you know that he’s bluffing. You also are familiar with your classmate’s work, and it’s nothing short of decent. Levi glances at you, eyes set on your upturned lips. You immediately feel butterflies, and you internally curse yourself for acting like such a cliche middle-school child. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Levi says, with a look on his face that almost makes him look amused. 

You falter, “What question?”

He rolls his eyes—his perfect, beautiful, silver eyes— and asks, “What are you thinking about?”

“Just how the fuck Professer Davis could assign us this project without giving us any kind of rubric or expectations, or even a sense of what he wants from us,” you lie. You hope the stumbling of your words comes off as anger-induced speaking rather than nerves. 

Levi doesn’t look satisfied with your answer, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead he looks back at his computer. “What are you doing tonight?” 

Your eyebrows raise, he’s never asked that. Usually you just whine for him to stay and watch a movie, and he makes a gruffly remark about how you’re annoying, all the while sitting back, and grabbing a piece of candy from your own bag. 

“Really nothing, just probably watch a couple of episodes of some trashy reality tv show,” you say, “why?’ 

Levi pauses, for some reason it looks as if he wants to say something but doesn’t. You catch this and try to encourage him, you soften your gaze, and smile. 

“I just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out tonight,” Levi mumbles. For a man that doesn’t wince when he saw a garden snake on the college’s trail (true story), he looks incredibly nervous. 

You give him a deadpan look, “Levi, you look like you just asked for one of my kidneys. Of course you can!” You chuckle, internally questioning his sudden mood shift. You really wanted to add that you would give your kidney for him if he asked, but atlas, that’s an inside thought. 

He looks almost relieved. His (beautiful) lips upturn at the slightest angle, unoticeable to anyone who isn’t well versed in the expressions of Levi. You’re then taken out of your thoughts when he lifts his eyes to yours. He doesn’t have the usual neutral, subtly dickish look, it’s…softer. 

He’s making it so fucking hard not to kiss him. 

“It’s rude to assume though, right?” he grumbled. 

“Not with you,” you reply without second thought. Fuck. You quickly find yourself and causally (you hope) turn to your computer, praying that the thick tension in the air would dissipate. You don’t look back up at him. Typing needlessly at your computer at what looks like a terrible and incoherent essay draft. 

You hate this. You’ve always been inpatient. You were always the one to admit to your crush that you like them without waiting a second moment, but you find yourself. Levi is still looking at you when you glance up from your laptop, and you have to admit that you’re incredibly nervous as of now. Levi doesn’t make eye contact like this. Levi doesn’t look like anyone like this. Levi doesn’t like you, right?

You’re really trying not to look at him, but it’s hard not to when you can literally feel his eyes burning into your skull. But you do, as casually as you possibly can, and give him the look of a girl who holds absolutely no feelings for the (very) attractive man in front of him. Although, you swear you can feel beads of sweat form across your forehead. 

“Why are you looking at me like that Ackerman?” You say with a casual smile on your face, “You’re scaring me!”

He lets out a sound under his breath that almost resembles a breath of a laugh. Your smile widens, questioning him in his silence. You usually have to hold back the urge to tell him to shut the fuck up (endearingly of course). Instead he just…stares. 

“Do you wanna go out tonight?” Levi finally mutters. He face conveying a look of nervousness you’ve never seen on him. It looks pretty on him. You internally note to tell him that one day. You want to ask him if he means a date, but you already know he does, and you don’t want to say anything but,

“Yeah. Yeah I would really like that.” 

[megalony]

Hiii love!

I have a request for a Swat one shot, Street x reader.

Absolutely LOVE your writing and it excites me so much that you are writing for Swat too since it’s one of my favorite tv shows as well as 911 and sadly the Swat imagines are not that popular but with your amazing writing I’m more than sure I will enjoy anything you write about the crew ✨

Also I know in the first seasons when Karen goes to live with Jim he lives in an apartments but can we change it up and have him live in an area sort of like the one Deac live in.

So the idea goes: Reader and Street are married and they recently found out they are pregnant, around month 4-5, Jim’s mom gets out of jail and comes to live with them, Jim and reader had disagreements about Karen living with them since reader saw right through her scheme of how she manipulated Jim and also Karen doesn’t like the reader even going as far as encouraging Jim to leave her saying how she’s no good for him and what not but Jim being the amazing husband he is that’s where he never listened to her demands, ultimately reader just gives up about Karen living with them and the first few weeks they are both civil to one another but after awhile Karen starts mistreating the reader when they are alone starting from just saying stuff to her up to sabotaging things from her work, baby stuff they have bought with Jim and all the sorts, Reader eventually tells Jim all about this and how sacred she is this might get worse but Jim doesn’t believe her since Karen still has her claws on him and tells him maybe it’s the pregnancy that starts affecting her brain and how he knows she’s never liked her and is just trying to get rid of her from their apartment basically manipulating him once again to not believe her after hearing this reader and Jim fight and reader leaves to stay with a friend while things settle down at home since she doesn’t feel safe in her home anymore, eventually Jim looks for her they talk it out and she comes back, after a few days reader is the the nursery room putting away some things her and Jim had bought the day prior and Karen comes barging to the room on a rage rampage and just starts throwing anything she finds within arms length to the floor, reader tries to find a way to get out of the room scared Karen can harm her and the baby, she manages to get to the stairs but before she’s able to go down she feels how Karen grabs her and makes her loose her balance making her fall down the stairs, Jim was out on call that day and he decided to invite the team back to relax after the call they had and also the guys had promise to help build up the crib since he had trouble setting it up and some other furniture they bought not that long ago (yk since they are more than coworkers, they are family), when they got there they heard all this commotion coming from upstairs so they all rushed in thinking someone broke in but they were to late since when to got in they were only able to see the reader falling down after Karen grabbed her and witnessing the whole scene, Jim rushes reader to the hospital since she was not waking up, he was worried about her and the baby, some members of the team stayed back to deal with Karen and made sure she didn’t try to disappear others went with Jim, a few hours passes and everybody is in the waiting room waiting for update on reader and Jim is sort of groveling asking himself why he didn’t believe her when she first started mentioning all the things his mother was doing/saying to her, eventually the doctor tells them reader is stable and for her partner to go with him so Jim goes with the doctor and discusses her health and the baby’s with both of them, Jim is relieved she’s okay but the doctor tells them this was a close call and how reader has to be on bedrest for the rest of the pregnancy since it was an ugly fall, they eventually hear baby’s heartbeat to reassure them baby is okay, because of this Karen is sent back to prison, Jim cuts all contact with her after harming the two people he loves most, reader has an easy rest of her pregnancy despite being in bed rest, her and Jim fixed their relationship and now trust each other blindly and with the help of their Swat family they were feeling more than thankful for having such amazing persons being there for them.

Hope you liked the idea love! No pressure if you don’t feel it and feel like changing some things, you’re the expert here this is just an idea that popped in my head around 3 am after binging Swat 🤪

Hello 👋

Wow!!!

Thank you for the details I had such a structured plan to go from and it really helped me write quicker and I didn’t have to think of the plot at all!!

So I’ve split it into two parts- there was far too much detail to put this all into one- and I hope it’s gone how you want it.

Let me know what you think and thank you for sending this to me I absolutely loved it

Family Matters

Part 2

🥰🥰🥰