#anyway any nice words you have to send my way this week are appreciated. they don’t even have to be nice about ME just nice in general

[timbitshockey]

my birthday is on friday which means i am smack in the middle of my annual “deep and dark funk that happens right before my birthday” and so i don’t necessarily need team canada to “win” for “me” but i DO need the game to have less than totally rancid vibes like the last matchup or i’m going to be a real pain in the ass to be around this weekend

[lavnderwonu]

the boy next door | jeon wonwoo

pairing: idol!boyfriend!wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: secret relationship, established relationship, smut

summary: sneaking around with your secret boyfriend.

warnings: smut (!!!), little plot lol, wonwoo as your secret boyfriend, softdom! wonwoo, wonwoo is hot (yes that's a warning), mirror sex (kinda?), pet names (baby), praise kink, size kink AHEM, clitoral stimulation, fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, reader has to be quiet, hint at another round.

word count: 1.9k

author’s note!: when i tell you this concept has been on my mind for weeks... i'm not lying. the wonwoo brainrot was hitting HARD when i was writing this. i was originally going to make it a secret situationship but im a #1 hater of that whole thing so relationship it is. plus i just think it'd be hot. who wouldn't want wonu as their secret boyfriend? anyway, let me know what you think, i appreciate feedback! 🩷

click here to join my taglist!

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand as you’re in your bathroom, going through your night time routine, just like any other night. As soon as you make it to your phone, it’s stopped ringing. Unlocking it, you see a notification.

Wonwoo

Missed Call

Your boyfriend. Well, only you knew he was your boyfriend, anyway. Although you’d be lying if you never posted any “soft launches” of you two, whether it was an extra iced americano on your counter, or a very obvious mystery man driving while you sat in the passenger seat.

Before you can even call him back, he’s already texting you.

Wonwoo: are you awake? Wonwoo: i saw your story earlier. you looked nice.

You went out earlier in the day to run your usual errands, which usually consisted of shopping of some sort, then wandering around a bookstore. You threw on a cute floral mini dress, and for good measure, you promptly decided to take a picture in your full-body mirror hoping a certain someone would see.

You laugh to yourself, typing out a reply.

you liked it? well you’re too late. i’m in my pajamas now.

It was only 11:30 pm, so maybe it was a tad early for pajamas for some. But for all you know he was probably in sweats playing some game on his phone or reading a book.

Wonwoo: i don’t care, you always look pretty baby Wonwoo: come over here

He lived down the hall from you, with his roommate and best friend, Mingyu. His apartment was easy access, but pretty risky if Mingyu was there, so usually Wonwoo would just come over to yours.

You're about to ask is mingyu there? until he answers the question before you even finish typing.

Wonwoo: mingyu’s gone

You bite your lip, typing a reply. Fuck, you can’t say no.

on my way

You toss your phone on your bed, quite literally, quickly getting yourself ready, you decide to put on your favorite lavender-colored bra and matching panties underneath your pajamas you already had on. Your favorite color; and a different variation of his.

Going down the hall from your apartment, you reach his door, quickly knocking a few times before he answers.

“I thought you were joking when you said you were in pajamas,” Wonwoo jokes, examining you as you walk in. “You were serious.”

“Shut up, it was getting late.” You blush, as you damn near fight the urge to jump him, cause damn. He looks too good, even in a hoodie and sweatpants.

“You look cute,” He pulls you close to him, his fingers sliding underneath your shirt to grip your waist. “Can’t wait to take them off…”

You lean into him, fingers lightly threading through his hair that’s gotten so much longer recently.

“How much time do we have?”

“Hours.” Wonwoo responds, confident. “Mingyu said he was going out with Jungkook, they’ll probably be out half the night drinking.”

His hands slowly slide up your back, sending your heart thrumming in your chest, you’re unable to deny the effect he has on you.

You both know you’d eventually have to go public with your relationship, but for now, you’d just enjoy the adrenaline rush you get everytime you’re alone together.

You make it to his bedroom, in a heated kiss, you back away to safely removing his glasses and placing them on his nightstand.

Kneeling on his bed in front of him, you quickly tug at the hoodie he has on. “Off.” You order him, and he obeys, pulling it over his head.

He tosses to the floor, before kissing you again, his hands slide up your shirt, groping your breasts lightly through your bra, making you softly moan against his lips. He breaks the kiss and his lips softly trail along the corner of your lips, to your jaw, and onward.

You begin working on unbuttoning your silky pajama shirt as Wonwoo trails wet kisses down your neck. His hands take over, effortlessly unbuttoning it. Your eyes glance over to the mirror on the wall, giving you a full view of you kneeling on his bed and him towering over you.

He slips your shirt off your shoulders, and his eyes briefly follow your gaze, realizing what you’re looking at.

“Are you watching yourself in the mirror?” Wonwoo says into your ear, giving you chills.

“Uh-huh.” Your breath shaky as you reply, nodding.

“Turn around.” He suddenly demands, kissing behind your ear before you turn around, your back now facing him.

Wonwoo wraps one arm around your torso, holding you against his sturdy chest. His hand lightly touches your chin, turning you to face the mirror again.

“Keep watching yourself, baby.”

You watch as his free hand slips underneath your pajama shorts, his fingers lightly ghosting over your clothed clit. You gasp as your hips jolt, desperately seeking out more friction.

“Wonwoo…” You gasp, gripping his arm tighter.

His hand slides underneath the elastic of your underwear, applying firm pressure as he circles your clit, before you feel his fingers slide down between your folds and he mutters a breathy fuck against your neck when he feels how wet you are already.

“You’re already dripping for me, baby.” Wonwoo says deeply, voice slightly muffled into your neck. “Couldn’t wait to see me, could you?”

He’s expecting an answer, and it’s impossibly hard now that he’s sliding two fingers inside you, expertly curling his fingers to find that special spot that you often couldn’t reach yourself.

“N-no, I couldn’t… thought about you all day.” You cry, nails digging into his forearm, and he’s seemingly unfazed by it. His fingers pound into your sweet spot, making your head fall back against his shoulder.

“Fuck, look at how pretty you look.” Wonwoo says, glancing at your reflection, your brows furrowed as you focus on the feeling of his fingers inside you.

“I’m so close…” You whine, turning to bury your face in his neck as you inhale the sweet scent of his cologne like you never want to forget it.

“I know, baby. You’re fucking squeezing my fingers.” Wonwoo grunts as your walls clench around his fingers. “Let it go, I got you.”

Your legs shake as you grip onto his forearm for dear life, desperate for something to hold onto. A cry of his name leaves your lips as you cum, your heart racing, panting trying to catch your breath.

“That’s my girl.” Wonwoo turns to kiss your forehead gently, his fingers slip from your dripping center, brushing your clit one last time and the friction is enough to make you wince.

He releases his hold on you, and you turn around to face him, kissing him needily. “Fuck me,” You whisper against his lips. “I need you.”

“So needy…” Wonwoo playfully mocks you, suddenly turning into his unintentionally adorable self, as if he didn’t just pull a powerful orgasm out of you moments ago. “Don’t I at least get to enjoy this cute little set you wore for me?” He pulls off your shirt, even though it was already damn near falling off anyway.

You blush, kissing him again.

“We don’t have time for that.” You chuckle, already feeling somewhat anxious that Mingyu is going to walk into the apartment at any second.

Wonwoo can read you like a book, and he notices right away. “Hey, there’s no rush.” He says gently, as his hands reach behind you to unhook your bra.

You slide it off the rest of the way, then toss it on the floor. “I know, I’m just enjoying this. I don’t want to be interrupted.” You drape your arms over his shoulders as you press your body against him, kissing him fervently. You moan against his lips as you feel his hard cock pressing against you.

You slide your hands down his chest, reaching to loop your fingertips into the waistband of his sweatpants. “Take these off, baby.” You whisper as you kiss his along jaw a few times, before you grope his length through them for emphasis. “Please.”

Wonwoo gently nudges you to fall back on his bed, and you sit up on your elbows, eagerly watching him as he obeys you, taking them off. “Better?” His gaze meets yours as you look him over.

You eagerly nod, lifting your hips for him as he rids you of your pajama shorts you still had on, along with your soaking wet underwear.

“How do you want it, baby?” Wonwoo huskily asks you, removing his underwear. He curses under his breath as he watches you bend your knees and spread your legs apart, allowing him full access to you.

You gasp as you feel him suddenly pull you further down on his bed, quickly followed by a whine as you feel the weight of his cock on your clit. You sit up on your elbows to see him dragging his cock through your folds, coating himself in your wetness.

Both of you can only watch, breathing heavily.

“Wonwoo…” You whine his name, gripping the sheets beneath you as the tip of his cock bumps you clit again. You both watch as he lines himself up with your entrance, finally pushing inside you.

“Look at that.” Wonwoo grunts, watching you take every inch, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate him.

“Fuck…” You throw your head back, a soft moan falling from your lips as you feel so full. “You’re too big…”

“You take me so well…look at you.” Wonwoo praises you, as his hands come up to gently stroke your inner thighs, and it’s enough to get you to relax. “You okay?”

You nod, “Yeah, you can move. Please.”

He starts to pound into you at a steady pace, making you grab onto his shoulders for something to hold onto. Your nails dig into his skin as he drives his cock into your sweet spot over and over.

You let out a sob of a moan, and Wonwoo thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

“God, you sound so pretty,” He moans, “Crying for me…”

“I’m not gonna last long.” You whine, your walls already clenching around him.

Your heart nearly stops in your chest when suddenly you hear the front door to the apartment open, then hear Mingyu enter.

You gasp, and Wonwoo quickly shushes you.

“Relax, he’s not going to come in here, he probably thinks I left.” He whispers, all the while he hasn’t stopped fucking you.

“Can you be quiet?”

You can barely find the words to speak, your brain too focused on the feeling of his cock inside you.

“Answer me.”

You frantically nod, and that’s about all you can muster the strength to do. Your walls clench around him and he knows you’re close.

“Shit, I’m gonna come…” You softly moan, as quiet as you can, then you feel his hand cover your mouth, muffling your cries as your walls squeeze his cock hard, but he keeps fucking you through your high.

He keeps going until he’s coming too, groaning into your neck as you feel his cock nearly throbbing as he releases inside of you.

“Fuck…” Wonwoo sighs, as you both are catching your breath. “That wasn’t how that was supposed to happen.” You both smile bashfully at each other.

You gently thread your fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his forehand.

“That’s okay, we can sneak over to my place… we won’t have to be quiet.”

tags: @dearlyjun @cosmojinyoung

some others i couldn’t tag! 💔

[wintrwinchestr]

obedience | part 2

summary: a week ago, you and joel had experimented with a new kink, and it’s been on your mind ever since. you had been too shy to ask to try it out again, but joel always knows exactly what you need.

warnings: 18+, smut, daddy kink, pet play (egregious use of “puppy”, joel teaches you dog commands and refers to your hand as your paw, among other things), d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, praise kink, degradation/dumbification kink, cockwarming, edging, unprotected piv sex, creampie, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, etc), talk of reader wearing a collar, joel giving reader a bath/washing her hair, hella aftercare, reader has hair and can be carried by joel, implied age gap but reader is an adult, let me know if i missed anything!!

word count: 5.7k

a/n: literally nobody look at me please. this the most self indulgent self insert shit i’ve ever written in my life and if you get it you get it idk what else to say!!! anyway thank you for being patient with me and reading what i write, my big girl job takes it out of me sometimes but that’s what i write this type of shit to deal with <3 nice comments and reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed or if this awakened something in you :)

(read part 1 here if you missed it)

dividers by @saradika

“You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

It had been a week now since Joel had punished you, denied you for acting out over the phone, for disobeying him and sending him lewd photos of yourself when he had explicitly told you to stop. But you hadn’t listened, he wasn’t having it, and when he had returned home from work late that night, he had called you by a new name. Puppy, he had spat at you several times as he made you chase a ruined orgasm on his steel-toed work boot. 

The pet name hadn’t left your mind since then, repeating itself over and over, along with his question of if you wanted to be trained, if you wanted to be his pet. The more you thought about it, the more you found yourself becoming desperate for it. Each day in the office was a struggle to stay focused on even the simplest of tasks, your thoughts overrun with fantasies of Joel getting you on all fours for him, giving you commands and praising you for following them, tugging you towards him by a finger hooked into a collar to tell you what a pretty puppy, what a good girl you’re being for him.

You’d left work every evening for the past several days with a damp spot in the seat of your panties, feeling ashamed by how depraved and inappropriate almost every one of your waking thoughts had become. When you would greet Joel at the door all needy and wanting, he would tease you with a “What’s gotten into you, lately, hm?”, but never push for more than you were willing to reveal to him, though he thought he might have had an idea. He would take you to the bedroom and have his way with you the way you liked, the way you had usually craved, before he had turned your world upside down by deciding on a whim to try somethin’ new that fateful night. 

Joel would be more than willing to try it again, to follow through with that question he’d asked you, but he decided he was content with waiting for you to come to him, for you to decide when you were ready for him to make you his good puppy once more.

–

The weekend begins just like any other. Joel’s internal clock wakes him up no later than seven in the morning, the sun just barely streaming in through the blinds in your shared bedroom. He tries to keep his creaks and groans to a minimum as he rolls out of bed, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead before quietly padding his way into the kitchen to get a sizable pot of coffee brewing. He lets you sleep for another couple of hours, knowing full and well at this point in your relationship that he has the wrath of your grumpy morning attitude to face if he doesn’t. He does think it’s cute, though, how your face twists up into a pout but your eyes stay scrunched closed if he wakes you up at a time you deem too early.

When Joel does decide it’s a sensible time for the two of you to get a proper start on your generous two days off from the slog of your weekday jobs, he cracks the bedroom door open gently, making his way over to your still-sleeping form. He softly brushes some of your knotted hair out of your face as he places your mug of coffee on the nightstand beside your head, prepared just the way you like it. Whatever happened to good ol’ fashioned cream and sugar? Or just plain black, for that matter? Can’t believe you like it with all this cinnamon vanilla whatever you have me dump in it, he had teased, not long after you had first started sleeping over at his place. Can’t believe you drink it without anything in it. It needs at least a lil’ somethin’ sweet in it, you had bantered back to him, to which he was quick to reply with Got my somethin’ sweet right here, don’t I? before pulling you into his lap and kissing you hard until both of your cups ran cold.

You smile at the memory in your half-sleepy state, slowly blinking your eyes open to see Joel’s warm and familiar smile. “Mornin’, sweet girl,” he says, his grin only growing wider when you greet him back with the cute little squeal that comes out when you stretch your arms over your head instead of an actually intelligible word. “Got some emails and borin’ stuff to catch up on this mornin’, why don’t you just stay comfy and sip on your coffee while you wake up for a bit, hm? Probably be done in time to get lunch together somewhere, how’s that sound?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you reply softly, real words this time, as you push yourself up to sitting while Joel props your pillows up behind you for your back to rest against. You don’t put up much of a fight against the yawn that stretches your jaw, rubbing your blurry eyes as it does.

“Alright, gimme a kiss, sleepy girl. Enjoy your creamer with a splash o’ coffee,'' Joel taunts through a chuckle. He presses his lips to yours, and his coarse beard tickles the skin around your mouth, making you giggle. The smile hasn’t completely faded from your face by the time he slips out of the bedroom to head into his office, shutting the door gently behind him.

Extending a hand down to your nightstand, you hook your fingers through the mug’s handle and slowly bring it up to your face, careful not to spill any. He’d chosen your favorite Daddy’s Girl mug, the phrase written in bold pink text curved over a little illustration of two blue daisies. You always thought your coffee tasted a little better from this mug, somehow. Taking your first sugary sweet sip, you think the sentiment is as true this morning as it’s always been.

–

A little while later, when you feel somewhat more awake thanks to plenty of caffeine and sugar working its way through your body, you finally force yourself into comfortable clothes different from the ones you slept in. With your hair sufficiently tamed, face washed, and teeth brushed, you decide now’s as good of a time as any to try and act on the plan you’d been concocting over the past couple of days, waiting for a moment just like this to pounce on.

You still felt too shy to bring it up to Joel, to tell him how badly you’ve been wanting him to treat you like his little pet, and go even further with it this time. You know he’d never judge you for it, and he had seemed to like the experiment just as much as you did. But something about your little fantasy still felt taboo and shameful, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to use your big girl words and ask for it.

Though, you had finally realized, maybe you didn’t have to ask for it. Maybe you could quietly tip toe into his office one lazy Saturday morning and sit at his feet, nuzzle into his thigh until he brings a hand down from his keyboard to scratch behind your ear, asking you What’re you up to down there, babygirl?

And that’s exactly where you’ve found yourself now, answering his question with a dreamy whimper, leaning into his touch as the feeling of his fingers on your skin makes you smile so blissfully, wiggling on your knees.

“What’s got you feelin’ so snuggly this mornin’, hm? Just need some lovin’ from your Daddy?” he asks in his still-rough morning voice, gazing down at you affectionately.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his calf and rubbing your cheek against the soft leg of his sweatpants.

“Alright, lil’ thing. Just got a couple more emails to take care of and then I’m all yours, promise.” He removes his hand from your scalp to start typing again, and you pout in protest. 

Joel shoots a stern look down to you. “Poutin’ don’t typically get us what we want, now does it? Be patient, sweetheart, just a few more minutes.”

You release another upset noise, louder this time, and then he’s pushing his rolling chair back, your grasp around his leg coming apart as he does.

“Came in here actin’ so good and sweet, where’d this bratty girl come from, hm? If there’s somethin’ you want, gotta use your big girl words and ask for it, you know that,” he scolds, his expression becoming more serious.

You hadn’t meant to elicit this reaction from him at all, and it causes your eyes to well up as you stare at the carpet, avoiding his gaze. Opting to answer him with just a shrug, you fidget with your fingers in your lap to distract yourself from the sting behind your eyes. You do attempt to open your mouth and make your desires known to him, but think better of it, and any big girl words you did have swirling around in your brain are replaced by yet another half-hearted little whine.

A whine that sounds… a little familiar to him. 

“Oh, I see…” Joel muses, a little less authority in his voice as he assumes a more relaxed position in his desk chair. “I think I know what’s goin’ on here.”

You look up to meet his eyes, tilting your head in confusion. The action prompts his lips to tug into a knowing smile, and he leans forward in his seat, making a beckoning motion with his hand. “C’mere, baby. Between my legs.”

You obey immediately, crawling towards him to close the small distance between you, settling in a kneeling position between his spread thighs. “Good girl,” he praises, and the words make you beam as he cups your chin, the moisture that had been blooming along your water lines now forgotten.

“Think I know why my sweet girl ain’t usin’ her words with me this mornin’...” Joel says, scratching at the soft skin under your chin with his fingertips. You can’t help but lean into his touch, lashes fluttering, and it’s enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Reckon it’s because puppies don’t know to, hm? They just whimper and whine for attention from their Daddies cause they don’t know how to talk, ain’t that right?”

You let out a pathetic little noise when he finally says the word, the one that’s been dampening every pair of panties you own for the past week, but that you’d been too scared to ask to hear again. But you were right after all, you didn’t have to ask for it, because Joel always knows just what you need, somehow.

He uses his grip on your chin to nod your head up and down for you, and continues talking down to you in that gravelly tone of voice that makes you feel like you’re about to melt straight through the floor. “Yeah… ‘F you wanna be Daddy’s lil’ puppy this mornin’, tha’s alright with him. Figured you oughta be missin’ it by now, seein’ as how you liked it so much the first time around…”

You’re barely processing what he’s saying, your lips slack and eyes unblinking as your cunt releases little pulses of slick into your panties. Something about Joel seeing through you so clearly, calling you out on your newly discovered kink and using it to pull you hard and fast into this familiar saccharine headspace, has your whole body burning hot with arousal. 

“And if I know one thing about puppies, it’s that they need some trainin’, don’t they? ‘Specially impatient ones like the pretty thing I’ve got sittin’ at my feet. Don’t you agree? Don’t speak, just nod, babygirl.”

It’s unusual for him to request a nonverbal response, as opposed to a Yes, Daddy, but you’re grateful for the change as you allow yourself to fall deeper into your role. You give him what he asks for, a couple of eager nods in quick succession, even though you aren’t quite sure where he’s going with this yet.

“Asked you twice to be good and patient for Daddy, and all I got was poutin’ and whinin’ instead, didn’t I? Think my lil’ pet oughta learn her first command today: Wait. Because good puppies know how to wait for their treats, don’t they, sweet girl? Again, just nod for me.”

And you do, slower and with a little more guilt in your expression this time. But despite him making you admit to your disobedience, you’re not sure you’ve ever been more fucking soaked than you are right now. You’re throbbing, aching, shifting on your knees in an effort to get even the smallest bit of relief. You think you might be releasing little whimpers, but you can’t be sure, already feeling so floaty and far away from just his words alone.

Joel spots your desperate movements, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifts in his chair, adjusting for his own arousal, and gets an idea.

“On second thought… Got another command I might like to teach you first. Somethin’ a lil easier for that dumb puppy brain of yours to understand, hm?” He tilts his head at you, lips curved into a mocking pout.

Your eyes flutter and roll to the back of your head involuntarily, his degradation prompting the instinctual response from you. Another syrupy slow nod lets him know you’re ready to learn, to obey to the best of your ability.

“Alright, sweet thing. When I say paw, want you to put your hand right on my knee here, ‘kay?” Joel explains, patting his muscled leg for clarity. “Paw, baby, gimme paw,” he coos at you, his tone not dissimilar to the one he uses to speak to actual dogs. 

Forcing your brain to work through the dense cloud of submission that shrouds it, you lift your hand and place it on his knee, just like he had demonstrated. His enthusiastic reaction to your obedience startles you at first, but you break into a beaming grin when you see the proud expression he wears.

“Good girl, tha’s a good girl,” he praises, scratching at the top of your head and ruffling your hair. Using his touch as a distraction, Joel places your paw over his hardening bulge with his unoccupied hand, the thick shape of him prominent through his thin sweatpants. He tightens his hand on top of yours, prompting your fingers to squeeze him. He guides your hand into massaging him for a second or two more, long enough for your melted puddle of a brain to connect with the nerve endings in your fingers. Your breath hitches when you realize what it is you’re feeling, your blissed-out expression morphing into a more desperate, wide-eyed one as you focus your attention to the movement of your hands.

“Yeah, feel that, sweet girl? Feel what you do to Daddy by bein’ so good for him?” He prompts, and your thighs squeeze together as you grope him. You can’t help but draw your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down on it to stifle the needy whimper that threatens to escape.

“You wanna sit on it, pup? Hm? Wanna keep Daddy’s cock nice ‘n warm while he finishes up his work?”

Your aching cunt squeezes around nothing at the premise, and you nod so hard it makes you dizzy. You move to push yourself off the floor and stand up, but a firm hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Ah ah, gotta use your words this time. Speak, baby,” Joel commands, and it takes you a second of searching to find the ability to do so again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, wanna s-sit on it…” you answer softly, and you’ve never heard your own voice sound so wanton. It comes out in a pitch that you almost don’t recognize as your own, featherlight and dreamy and desperate all at once. The need in your voice alone is enough to satisfy him.

“Good girl, just learnin’ all kinds o’ tricks today, aren’t we? Trainin’ you so well… C’mon up here, babygirl,” he permits, and uses his big hands and sturdy forearms to assist you in your awkward and eager climb into his lap. “Take it out, baby, get your treat.”

You whine as you situate yourself atop his thighs, tossing your head back with a dramatic flair, overwhelmed and frustrated by all he’s been asking of you. You just wanted him to turn your brain off, to praise you, to not have to think while he plays with you however he wants, and instead all he’s been doing is asking you to listen, sit, speak, obey. But of course, you should know better by now, that Joel likes making you work for it, to wait for it.

“Hey,” he scolds, grabbing your face and pulling your head forward from where it had flopped between your shoulder blades. “You were doin’ so well, bein’ such a good, obedient girl. Don’t start actin’ up on me now. Could always change my mind, not let you have your treat after all. You want that?”

 “No, Daddy…” you admit, your words distorted through the way your cheeks are squished together. He’s not using much force, just enough to keep your focus on him. 

“‘S what I thought… Go on then, pup,” Joel commands, and you make quick but clumsy work of freeing his already leaking cock from the loose confines of his sweatpants and briefs. He lets go of your face in favor of placing both of his hands on your hips, lifting you up while you pull your loose shorts and panties to the side, maneuvering his length to just barely prod at your wet little entrance. You flit your eyes from where the two of you meet back up to meet his gaze, hesitating while you look to confirm your permission one last time.

“Sit, puppy,” he says through a smirk, and you release a sharp whimper as you sink down onto his cock. 

On instinct, you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between Joel’s neck and shoulder, rolling your hips back in preparation for a satisfying buck forward. His grip on your skin turns iron, holding you in place and preventing you from chasing after your pleasure.

He cuts off your pout with a strict, “I say you could move?”

“Mmph– No, Daddy,” you mumble into his firm muscle.

He huffs a mocking breath through his nose. “Really are jus’ a dumb lil’ thing for me, ain’t you? You already forget what you’re ‘sposed to be learnin’?” “‘M sorry, Daddy–” the embarrassment from his demeaning words makes you squirm, and his grip on you becomes bruising.

“Don’t need you to be sorry. Jus’ need you to listen. You’re gonna wait like a good girl ‘til I say you can start grindin’ that messy lil’ puppy cunt on me. We clear?” he orders, his deep baritone traveling straight from your ear to your needy core, the dark thatch of hair at the base of his cock already damp as a result.

You hug yourself closer to him, little fingers clawing at his t-shirt in an attempt to ground yourself, and nod meekly.

“Speak,” he spits again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, clear…”, you whine, managing to lift your head up just enough for your voice to come out a little more coherently.

“If I let go so I can finish up my work, you gonna behave and hold still for me?” 

You don’t seem to have a choice, but you agree, anyway. “Mhm, yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Now wait,” Joel instructs.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, the incessant clicks and clacks of Joel’s keyboard and mouse becoming more and more irritating with each passing second. Those sharp mechanical sounds, the vibration of his chest against yours whenever he clears his throat, the feeling of his pulsing cock as it splits you in two, it’s all so fucking much. You can’t help but release little whimpers and whines, pathetic pleases and Daddys that he either shushes or chooses to ignore. Any slight movement you make in an attempt to relieve some of the ache, he just responds to with a coo of wait, pup, and the tone of his commands as you twitching, clenching around him, soaking his cock more and more. It has to have been at least fifteen or twenty minutes by now, and at this point you’re sure he must be clicking around his desktop aimlessly just to drag out your training a bit longer.

Eventually, the noises stop, and Joel breathes a sigh as he replaces his large hands on your hips, their touch much more gentle this time. You lift your head from his shoulder to face him, wide and watery doe eyes frantically searching his face for a sign that the wait is over, that you’ve finally earned your treat. 

He grants you a soft smile, lifting a hand and using it to just barely grasp your chin, tilting your head side to side as he admires you.

“Got such a sweet girl in my lap, don’t I? Knew she could be good, just needed a lil trainin’ hm?”

You nod, already feeling so overwhelmed that your mind has started to drift elsewhere, to the relief you’ll hopefully be feeling in just a few minutes, after he’s finished toying with you.

He releases your chin, ghosting his hand downwards along the column of your throat, stopping when his thumb and fingers are resting on the tops of your collarbones. He doesn’t apply any pressure, just admires the placement of his hand for a moment, then hums.

“Neck would look so pretty with a collar wrapped around it, don’t you think, pup? With a lil’ heart-shaped tag danglin’ from it, engraved with my name so everyone knows that you belong to me? That you’re my puppy, hm?”

Fuck.

The sentiment alone, the domination and ownership of it all, has you crying out your most pathetic noise so far this morning, eyebrows peaked with need as you bite down on your lip so hard you think you might’ve drawn blood. Joel predicts your reaction, clamping down on your hip with his other hand to stop you from moving before he’s decided you’re allowed to.

Again, you nod, willing to agree to anything and everything he wants from you if it means you’re getting closer to getting what you want from him, what you need.

“Say it, baby,” Joel demands of you, his voice calm but commanding.

You tilt your head at him, humming a confused little noise, but he doesn’t elaborate. “Say it, c’mon,” he repeats. Your foggy brain is on a second or two delay, but it catches up eventually, and you realize what he wants to hear.

“I’m y-your… ‘m your puppy,” you say, softly, your voice tinted with embarrassment. 

“Wha’s that, sweetheart? Didn’t quite hear you. One more time for Daddy.”

You swallow hard, inhaling a shuddering breath before repeating the phrase a little louder, with a little less control. “I’m your p-puppy, Daddy. I’m your puppy, ‘m Daddy’s–”

“Yeah, y’ are, fuck.”

He moves his hand from the base of your neck back to your hip, and uses his strong grip to hold you still while he begins a series of sharp but rewarding thrusts in and out of your swollen cunt, each one seeming to hit deeper and deeper inside you. Falling against him once more, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face into him while you let him fuck into you like a doll. His movements are quick and desperate as he growls an incoherent string of filthy praises in your ear, his words accompanied by the sloppy wet sounds of skin on skin.

“Perfect girl, Christ, tight lil’ puppy pussy feels so fuckin’ good, always feels so fuckin’ good. Such a good girl, such a good goddamn girl for Daddy.”

The harsh bounce of your body in his lap jostles every last one of your thoughts from your brain, and he relishes in the animalistic cries and yelps you mumble into the flesh of your upper arm, now damp with your drool. He must feel the moisture as it pools underneath your face and wets the thin fabric of his t-shirt, because then he’s laughing at you, spewing more obscene words at you as he spears you up and down on his cock.

“Shit, are you fuckin’ droolin’ on me, sweetheart? Got this messy cunt and that pretty mouth both soakin’ me, Christ. This cock make you that dumb, hm? You Daddy’s dumb puppy?”

You are, you both fucking know you are, so you agree and repeat it back to him to the best of your fucked-out ability because you know it’s what he wants to hear. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to hear it too, the self-degradation lighting your whole body on fire as some of that heat forms itself into a tight ball in your tummy. 

Joel’s hips begin to stutter, his hold on you starting to falter, complete sentences turning into sharply whispered expletives as he nears his orgasm. He can feel you squeezing around him, notices the telltale sign of your muscles tightening and your breathing coming out in short bursts, and uses that four letter word against you one last time.

“Not yet, babygirl, don’t you fuckin’ come for me, not ‘til I say. Wait,” he spits through gritted teeth.

You were so ready, just teetering on the edge of your orgasm, all you needed was a few more jackhammering thrusts and you’d be careening down the steep cliff of it. It takes everything in you to hold it in, to not let go. But you’ve been so good for him, and Joel doesn’t have it in him to torture you much longer, and he permits you to finish just a few minutes later.

“Alright, come, puppy, come for Daddy,” he orders, and you spasm in his lap with a debauched cry, that ball of heat in your tummy dispersing through your bloodstream, igniting every one of your nerves and sending sparks flying behind your eyelids. He reaches his high at the same time, spilling his release inside of you the way you both like.

It takes a few moments for the both of you to come back into yourselves, heaving chests eventually matching each other in a more relaxed rhythm. Joel softly scratches at the back of your head while you place delicate kisses mindlessly along his neck and up behind his ear.

“You were so good, sweetheart. Always take everything I give you so well,” Joel quietly praises next to your ear. He touches his lips to the side of your head, then your temple, then gently maneuvers your face so that he can press a final kiss to your forehead. Your eyelids flutter open in response, and your lips tug into a sleepy grin as you focus on his face. “There she is, my beautiful girl.” He sweeps a few tangled locks of hair away from your face, and even though you know you must look like a mess, you let him admire you anyway.

“Still up to go out for some lunch? After we get ourselves cleaned up ‘n all,” Joel asks, shifting his gaze down to where his spend leaks from you, staining both of your clothes a darker color and dripping onto the fabric of his desk chair.

You pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek for a bit before shaking your head.

“No? Tha’s alright, sweet girl, don’t blame you one bit. You’ll still let Daddy get you cleaned up though, won’t you sweetheart? How’s about I run you a bath with some o’ that new flowery bubble bath you just got, hm?”

You light up at the premise, nodding eagerly, and Joel flashes his handsome smile at you in return. “Alright, hang onto me, baby,” he says, and you wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders as he scoops you up and carries you to the bedroom, his softening cock still nestled inside you. The two of you detach when he sets you down on the small, handmade wooden bench adjacent to the tub, and leaves only for a moment to retrieve your favorite pink blanket from the living room. He wraps it around your shoulders when he returns, and starts the bath for you. He makes sure to squeeze a generous amount of the bubble bath into the roaring stream of water, ensuring that the bath is sufficiently fragrant and relaxing.

When the tub is full, with mounds of white soap bubbles threatening to spill over the smooth porcelain walls, he helps you strip out of your clothes, tugging your bottoms down your legs as you remove your own top over your head. Joel offers you one of his hands to steady yourself with as you step into the bath and lower yourself into the steaming water. It feels perfect, because just like he knows exactly how you take your coffee, how you want to be fucked without you having to ask, he also knows the almost-too-hot temperature of bathwater you prefer. 

He allows you to wash your own body, while he uses the cup you keep by the tub to douse your hair with water, using his rough fingertips to massage your favorite coconut shampoo into your scalp. You’re almost done scrubbing yourself by the time he’s raking conditioner through your damp ringlets, and then he’s rinsing you clean, the humid air in the room now smelling like a dozen different flowers and fruits, all of them mixing together to smell definitively like you. It’s his favorite scent in the whole world.

You don’t exchange many words during your bath, mostly enjoying the intimacy of the activity in silence. The action alone is enough to let you know how deeply the two of you care for each other, how much you trust and love each other.

When the water eventually runs cool, Joel helps you out of the slippery tub, and wraps you in one of your plush bath towels, a lighter shade of pink than your blanket, but just as soft.

“I’ll let you finish up in here, and I’ll see about orderin’ us some delivery, hm? I’ll get you whatever you want, and we can throw on a movie to watch while we eat, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds good, Daddy,” you reply, the bath leaving you feeling refreshed and more like yourself, able to find your voice again.

You settle on ordering your favorite fast food, and it arrives shortly before you tiptoe your way into the living room, your wet hair now pulled up into a clip while the rest of you is dry and comfortable, wrapped in a soft lounge set and your cozy blanket.

“There she is, the Poky Lil’ Puppy,” Joel teases, removing your containers of chicken tenders and fries from the plastic bag they arrived in, setting them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You giggle at his quip, settling down on the cushion next to him. “I’m not… poky, or whatever,” you reply, in a tone of voice that isn’t sure if you’re supposed to feel complimented or offended.

He looks at you in minor disbelief for a second, then moves his head and brows in a gesture that suggests something like touché. “It’s the name of a kids’ book. Written a lil’ before your time, I guess.”

“Oh… I’ll take it, then.” You settle against Joel’s warm, sturdy form as you munch on a fry, watching the TV screen as he flips through the most promising of the half dozen streaming services he’s subscribed to. “You know…” you start, but let the rest of your sentence drift away, not sure if you want to continue.

“Yeah, babygirl?” he replies, and it encourages you to finish your thought.

“I really liked, um… what we did today. Earlier,” you continue, doing your best to push through your shyness in an effort to get better at communicating your desires with him.

Joel pauses his browsing, putting the TV remote on the table so he can meet your eyes. “In my office, you mean?”

You can’t help but smile cheekily at the memory. “Yeah… I really like being called… that, I think. And if you don’t think it’s too weird–”

“Course I don’t, sweetheart. Would never judge you for likin’ what you like. If it makes you happy, makes you feel good, if it ain’t hurtin’ anyone, then there’s nothin’ wrong with it, baby.” Joel’s turned his upper body to face you now, to make sure you understand the sincerity of his words.

You smile, and his reassurance gives you the confidence to continue. “I really like that… collar idea,” you admit softly. “Maybe we can try that next time.”

He tucks his tongue into the pocket of his cheek, his face forming into a satisfied expression. “Thought you might. Keep bein’ Daddy’s good girl, he just might get you one. Maybe a matchin’ leash, too, somethin’ to tug on when I need you to listen.”

Your eyelids perform their involuntary flutter, a quiet whimper escaping your lungs at the thought. 

“Alright, settle down now, baby,” Joel says through a chuckle, shaking his head before kissing the top of your head affectionately. “Got all the time in the world to try whatever we want. Just focus on eatin’ your lunch for now, sweetheart.”

You snuggle up close to him after he starts the movie you both decided on, happily eating your salty and savory meal as you watch. For the rest of the afternoon, you feel warm and satisfied for a few different reasons, the most important one due to how grateful you are to have Joel.

He takes care of you, understands you, and loves you like nobody else ever could. And it’s mornings like these that make you especially aware of that fact. You’ll be his good girl for as long as he wants you to be–forever, hopefully–and he’ll always give you exactly what you need in exchange for it. 

Even if that something might be a collar with his name on it, fit for his perfect little puppy.

tag list (no pressure if this one isn't your thing!!) @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw (if your name is crossed out it won't let me tag you!!)

[6gumi]

no second thoughts.

synopsis ﹒if your big brother doesn’t care enough about you . . then why not bang his friend to make him care ! ?

pairings ﹒ step brother!alhaitham x fem!reader x big brother’s best friend!kaveh (modern au me thinks)

cw ﹒suggestive (a little long n rushed). TW: stepcest ! read at your own risk. not proofread (so sorry if it doesn’t make sense on some parts oopsies) this is all consensual. meanie ! al haitham aaa, t!tplay, use of petnames (princess, baby, etc) al haitham is a meanie lowk, al haitham is a lil rough w u :((, a lil degrading, dirty talk !

note ﹒aaa aaa AAAA thinkin’ sm.. thinkin’ sm.. the demons won me over once again fellas . . i’ve lost another battle sighsssss . . i had 2 rewrite sm times cuz i didn’t like how it went n all that aaa ALSO ! i made the texts smaller cuz this is soooo long 🥹 + i’m lowk proud of how this one turned out so reblogs appreciated ! requests are still closed so i will only accept thirsts if u wanna send in some, or u can just interact w me ! — millie ♡

you’ve tried all methods to get al haitham to notice you at-least . . why didn’t any of those methods work anyways ?! you both agreed to have this . . secret relationship with each other, and do very “secret” things no one could no about, at least that’s what he said. you knew it was wrong, he might’ve too.. but you both really couldn’t control your undying lust for each other like this, especially if you both lived in the same house and saw each other everyday. this was wrong, it was . . but you two weren’t blood related so it’s fine, he says. but still, it still felt wrong whenever al haitham was bullying his huge cock into your cunt, whispering that you could take him just fine. in other words, your relationship with al haitham is a hassle to understand and comprehend. it felt wrong but . . you both never delved into it too much. he was being so nice and sweet to you a few weeks ago, what happened to that? why was he suddenly being so cold?

you didn’t understand it at all, you just wanted to be close with him. could he . . . have been all nice with you just to make you dependent on him? you didn’t know.

poor poor you . . you need his attention nearly half of the time! you craved it even! you began to debate about what he said, sure yeah . . you were his precious little sister and he wouldn’t dare let anyone else touch you. you can’t help it, you just need his attention . . but how come he’s always treating you this way? why was he treating you like someone lower than he is? it’s not fair.. it wasn’t fair. you tried your hardest to get his attention these past few days and weeks, walking around the house with only his shirt clinging onto your figure with none of your undergarments present.. your nipples poking out of your shirt while you hummed and walked around, bare underneath for al haitham to see. you only wanted him to notice you, you wanted him to give you the attention you needed. you’d even let him fuck you raw on the kitchen counter if that’s what he wanted! but yet, none of those methods have worked on him . . .

you were in your room, sobbing against the softness of your pillow as your lips were formed in a small pout . . you hated being ignored, especially if it’s by al haitham. you laid there with cheek pressed up against the pillow, one leg over your blanket. the only thing that could be heard from your room are faint sobs and cries, tears pouring down your cheeks.

then, you heard your door creak open.

glancing over your shoulder, your eyes widened before sitting up properly, wiping your sweet tears off your face. “al haitham!” you spoke, grinning as he made his way over to you. “what’s up with you?” he says, his voice was nonchalant as always. “i could hear you all the way from my room.” you could feel your smile fading from his coldness towards you. ah, he’s still the same. you wiped your tears before crawling closer to him, clinging onto his arm as you rested on his bicep. ‘i just want your attention’ is what you wanted to say, but no.. you couldn’t. you would never admit that to him no matter how much you wanted to. you tugged on his arm with a little hum, looking up at him. “i . . it’s nothing, really. i’m alright.”

he hummed, glancing down at you before cocking a brow . . his expression still blank as he opened his mouth to speak, words that you never expected to hear. but wanted to. “wanna fuck?”

you sniffled, wiping your tears one last time before you stared at him, blinking at his words. “. . huh?”

“i said, wanna fuck?” he spoke again. “maybe that’ll make you feel better, yeah? c’mere baby.”

—

and there you were, face planted down against the pillow you were crying on earlier before . . loud sounds of skin slapping against each other was one of the only things you could hear, his balls slapped against your ass as his large hands had such a death grip on your hips, he was rough . . you had to admit. but yet, you kept thinking to yourself . . you wanted comfort, you needed al haitham’s comfort. you didn’t need this but you accepted anyway. choked moans were left muffled as your head was further pushed down against the bed, al haitham’s thrusts grew more rougher and deeper as the minutes passed . . it was clear to you that he had no intention of comforting you at all. no . . he was only using you for pleasure at this rate. “mmh . . you like this, huh? you like when your brother fucks you hard to relieve your stress, isn’t that right?” he whispered in your ear, inhaling the scent of your hair as his other hand reached down to rub your clit in a circular motion, licking his lips as he down on the blade of your shoulder. “fuck . . you’re such a sweet girl, are you? taking your brother’s cock like it’s nothing. taking it like the good slut you are.” he flipped your body over to face him, grabbing your knees as he forcefully pressed them down against your chest, squishing your breasts as your eyes rolled back to the back of your head, tongue lolling out in pleasure while his thrusts quickened, you were sure he was gonna break you at this rate. “naughty girl . . look at you, letting your brother fuck you as he pleases.”

this new position allowed al haitham to access more of your deepest areas, areas you never knew could even be explored by his cock! you whined as you felt his hands on your cheeks, pressing them together. “tell me, why were you crying earlier?” he brought his hand down from your face, pressing them down against the bulge on your stomach as he could feel himself going in and out of your slick pussy. “i-i just..” you whimpered, trying to ignore how good his cock felt pounding into you like that. swallowing the lump in your throat, you finally spoke up once again. “you.. ah— you’re being so cold to me lately, al haitham . . it’s making mmh! me think otherwise of our relationship, i don’t wanna . . keep going on like this with you if you’re hah!— gonna treat me like i’m nothing to you” you admit. you were half expecting him to kiss you and pamper you all over, but that all changed when you could feel his thrusts quickie even more. god.. you had to admit, his stamina was insane. “so you want me to act differently towards you? is that what you’re implying?”

“mmn.. if it means you stop being so cold to me, then yes . . that’s exactly what i’m asking fo— ah!” he pinched your nipples, shutting you up completely . . all that left his mouth were low chuckles. “i’m not being cold to you, i’m just acting like my usual self. if you expected me to kiss you, spoil you and pamper you whenever and wherever you please, you’re simply mistaken.” he gave your ass a light slap at that, before you cut him off. “but— hah! it’s not fair, al haitham . . why are you treating me like i’m nothing? i don’t get how you can just— hng . . fuck me and act like you don’t know me the day afterwards!” you could feel the tension in the air, and in his thrusts as he flipped you over again, immediately shoving his cock back in your pussy with a loud slap. “and i don’t get how you can’t shut the fuck up.” he grabbed a fistful of your hair, threading his fingers through your locks as he pulled you towards his chest as his cock proceeded to ram itself into you roughly, sweat trailing down your body while putting a hand over your mouth. “maybe i could shut you up if i breed this little pussy to the brim, huh? do you want me to do that? fill you up with my cum?” your eyes widened, as much as you loved your brother . . you didn’t want him doing anything as far as breeding you and filling you up, let alone . . getting you pregnant. “do i have to fuck my cum into you to get you to shut up? make you stop questioning my methods of caring for you?” he didn’t care about you like you cared about him. you knew that. so why was he even . .

his thrusts were starting to be more rougher and harsh now, but not enough to hurt you. “don’t you love your big brother, [name]? you love him right? why are you questioning his way of showing he cares for you, huh?” he whispered in your ear. your back arched at his words, you could almost feel just how tight your cunt was sucking him in at this rate. “you don’t want me to leave you don’t you? leave you in the streets with nothing but a pretty pussy for anyone to fuck, you don’t want anyone else’s dick in this slutty cunt now, do you?”

that’s the thing. you didn’t want him to leave you.

you shook your head furiously at the thought of him coming inside of you and leaving you in the streets for another person to take, you tried to tell him you didn’t want that but his hand only tightened around your mouth. “good, then don’t bother questioning about any of my acts of care for you. you know i love you, so just be a good girl and take my cock whenever and wherever i want, yeah? be a good little slut and don’t question your brother’s can you do that for me?” he was only saying that to put you over the edge and cling onto him more . . but did you realize that? not really. you sobbed as you nodded, trying to endure the soreness of your back and lower half when he released your hair, pulling out of your drenched pussy as he came all over your ass, stroking cock at an awfully fast pace . . your face scrunched as you could even feel some of his essence leaking from your ass and down to your bedsheets you cleaned earlier. “there, feel better now?” he asked. ‘no, i don’t.’ was what you wanted to say, but you held your tongue . . you were too exhausted to protest anyways.

—

your body was sore, you needed al haitham’s comfort and his attention . . but he was oblivious and never gave you what you truly wanted, you were getting tired of how his automatic response to comforting you is by fucking you into oblivion, you cursed at yourself for liking it . . you cursed yourself for even enjoying the way his cock pushes itself deep inside your velvet walls, you hated how you hated it, his methods to be exact. he was comforting you right? that’s what he told you, he was only making you feel better and this is his only way of comforting you, right? no. you knew this was another one of his tactics, and you always hated these tactics . . no matter how much you wanted to snap at him for disregarding your feelings and you as a whole, you couldn’t. he always found ways convincing you what he was doing was right when it wasn’t.

it has been awhile since that last session you both had, and yet again . . he began to ignore you once more. you knew it was coming but it infuriates you how much he doesn’t care about you as much as you care about him. so . . you tried something. when al haitham left the house one day, you managed to invite his friend, kaveh over. kaveh himself surprisingly knew of al haitham’s way of thinking since he was friends with him long before he met you, so it only made sense that he gave you advice and asked you if his behaviour improved. you were sitting on your bed, sniffling as kaveh had a hand on your shoulder. the blonde was much more nicer and gentler with you than al haitham was, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief whenever al haitham himself brought kaveh over after hanging out with him. you felt more comfortable and safe with your big brother’s best friend more than you could ever imagine. “you okay now, princess? i’m sorry he’s acting this way towards you but it’s just how he is, you can’t just magically stop someone from acting how they usually act, you get me?” his soft voice.. his reassurance. kaveh was your own personal safe haven.

as safe as you felt with kaveh, kaveh never knew or even found out about your dirty little secret and relationship you had with al haitham, not like you wanted him to know. the blonde only thought of this as friendly sibling feud, al haitham being nonchalant towards his doting little sister while you’re over here trying to get him to treat you properly as his sibling by asking his friend for some advice! oh . . he could have never been so wrong, it was more than that. but yet .. who knows if he ever found out one day? will he . . leave you? you knew it was wrong to even act like this towards your own step brother, but you two weren’t blood related so . . maybe he would be a bit weirded out but— no! you couldn’t bare to have kaveh leave you, not when he’s your only source of comfort. you wouldn’t dare to even tell him anything about you and al haitham’s dirty relationship with each other . . you wouldn’t dare.

“maybe we can try a different method . . ? i don’t know.” you mumbled, leaning closer against him. kaveh could feel himself scoot a little to give you more space and to prevent himself from getting too into your personal space. “maybe we could . . do it?” you suggested, earning a choked cough from the blonde. “i— what? are you implying what i think you are?” he wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly . . but he thought about it. it’s risky, yes . . but will it really work? sure, he thought you were sweet and only viewed you as his friends little sister but. . was this really right? “yeah . . i’m suggesting that we should do it.”

“princess are you sure? you don’t have to force yourself to do it just because you want him to notice you, it’s risky . .” kaveh whispered that last line under his breath, patting your shoulder. “he’s definitely gonna kill us, angel. are you really really sure you wanna risk it just to get his dumb head going?” without warning, you caught your lips with his as you put a hand on his thigh, lifting yourself up gently as you kissed him with passion. well . . that answered his question pretty quickly. you wanted this alright, and you were showing him exactly how much you wanted it. in a blink of an eye, you were pinned down against the soft sheets of your bed, kaveh’s hands slowly trailed up your flesh. the architect gazed up at you with those pretty eyes of his, pretty eyes you wanted to be on you forever. “you’re positive right, gorgeous? you want me to touch you? no second thoughts?” “no second thoughts.”

that was kaveh’s green light.

a kind smile spread across kaveh’s face at your green light. it seemed you really were an impatient girl. "you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you gorgeous? my little naughty girl." the blonde male chuckled before he leaned and kissed your neck slowly and sensually, slipping his hands inside your shirt as he cupped your tits while pulling at your nipple, your body needed this contact . . your body needed someone to touch it and kaveh will gladly be that person to fulfill its wishes. “naughty naughty girl you are, mhm?” he coos as his lips gently traced your skin, leaving a trail of tingles on your neck. “mhm.. get on with it already kaveh, ‘want you to fuck me now.” a chuckle rumbled in his chest with satisfaction, knowing he had won. "and who am i to deny this princess’ request?" you could almost sense the lust in his voice, his tone still full of seduction almost as the hand he had on your cheek gently slid down towards your neck, slowly rubbing it as his lips moved downwards, lifting up your shirt. kaveh was skilled with his mouth, you knew that. your body jolted as you could feel his mouth attach itself onto your long neglected nipple, placing soft kisses on the spot his hand was, sending shivers down your spine. kaveh’s tongue worked wonders on your nipples, his other two fingers tugging and rubbing at the other.

your breath hitched feeling the tips of kaveh’s fingers running along your plushy thighs, lifting your skirt up all the way to your stomach, pushing your underwear aside as he rubbed the slit of your pussy with two fingers, feeling your wetness on his fingers. “you’re awfully wet. you really do get all riled up way too quick, princess.” his eyes couldn’t help but wander seeing how hard your nipples gotten from his sucking and fondling. his mouth caged around your hardened nipple once more, forcing an angelic whine to leave your pretty lips. he loved the noises you made, especially if he was the one making you feel good. the blonde architect kept this up, suckling on your tits like there’s no tomorrow while his other hand toyed with the other breast. he hummed softly before letting his slender digits enter your pretty pussy, adding another finger almost immediately afterwards. “you want me to fuck you just as good as anyone else has, gorgeous?” he rubbed your fingers in a circular motion. he knew you were at his mercy, and he loved every second of it . . your moans, you little whines, your jolts and slight flinches to his touch, he loved them too.

although . .

i don’t think the person peeking through the gap of the door would think otherwise anyway.

[withleeknow]

letters i didn't send to you.

pairing: ot8 x reader (ot8 in the sense that there's no name mentioned so you can imagine whoever you want. imagine the whole kpop industry if you want lol) genre/warnings: established relationship, long distance relationship au?, angst, fluff if you squint. unedited bc i am insane word count: 0.7k note: trying something new here! dunno how people are gonna like it but i don't feel terrible about it 🤷‍♀️ a product of my emo hours and i needed an outlet and i thought oh hey why not just project this into a fic lol

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

3:29am, i've been dreaming about you for years. stars and moons and cotton candy clouds on fire at sundown. the whole universe resides in your eyes, it's almost unfair. sleepless nights because you're not here; restless days because i can't wait for you to be back. the clock stops ticking when you're not with me. the magnetic pull gets stronger during the witching hour somehow. i've always been drawn to you, even before i knew who you were. you're the only home i'd leave all my haunts for. it's summer solstice in most parts of the world but not in our bedroom, not when the only way i can have you is through a phone screen on your pillow. your voice is trying to lull me to sleep. it doesn't come close to replicating one tenth of your warmth. to love is to endure.

-

i'm halfway through the day, and you must be dreaming of where you belong, by my side on a bed that's far too big when i'm the only occupant. or at least, i hope you're dreaming of me too. 1:19pm, i'm six hours ahead but days and weeks and months and years behind, still stuck in that airport where you left me for the first time. some days, my eyes get misty at lunch when i think about your alarm going off and your irritated groan as you roll over to make your phone stop screaming. other days, i don't have an appetite at all, not with you on my mind and the reminder that there's still oceans between us. when are you coming home? i know when you're coming home, and yet i ask anyway, as if it'll shorten the distance and make the time pass more quickly. to love is to wait.

-

saturday morning, but i can't stay in bed past 7:12am. missing you a lot tonight, was what you had sent while i was asleep. that's a little cruel for a good morning text, don't you think? it's not your fault. i blame it on the oceans, on the time, on the distance. the coffee is still brewing, just enough for one steaming mug but it would've been nice if i got to make two. can we go back to new york? we always say we would, but can we do it now? i'll meet you halfway if you let me. there's nothing that ties me to this place. you're always on the move. my home is always on the move. we were happy on that trip, right? my fondest memories of you. skylines and the high line. to love is to risk it all, and i would risk it all for you. take me home, will you? let's go back to new york.

-

the clock reads 8:18am, but the date is all wrong. you should be landing any minute now, but not for another two days. two more days until you're home, ten days that i get to be in your arms. and yet, all i can think about is your departure, about coming back to an empty apartment after you're gone again. i think about you leaving before you even return. the drive back after i've sent you off, it never hurts less no matter how many times we go through it. i can already picture the scene, it's almost routine at this point. your sparkling eyes when they find me in the crowded airport, your relieved sigh when i run to you, your hands clutching me so tightly like you don't want to let go either. it's always this damn airport. we should stop meeting like this. when the buzzing of my phone snaps me out of it, i know who's on the other end of the notification. a photo of your new polaroid camera, then a promise to make more memories to keep with us when you come back to me.

to love is to willingly weather this with you a million times and more. even if it hurts. maybe especially if it hurts. you're the reason i keep going. you're the reason why the sun rises in the morning. let's talk about new york when you're here.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 02.07.2024]

[grievedeeply]

Hiiii! Do you take bg3 reqs? Cause I saw some and the tag in your latest post but no mention on the blog info!

If not feel free to ignore!

Could you please do Halsin, Gale and Astarion angsty hcs of them arguing with their s/o (like maybe she feels belitttled or ignored and yk classical “say something they don’t mean etc arguement”)? (With or without the aftermath and eventual yk comfort. However you’d like! Sorry if this is precise!

Thanks in any case! Have a lovely day!

i just added bg3 into my blog info bc of this LOL my bad. but yes i do take requests and i'm very happy to do this one for you! decided to expand on your original idea and make it arguing as a whole but your request is still included in the headcanons! thanks for sending it in and enjoy!

gn!reader/tav | tws: angst....

arguing headcanons with halsin, gale and astarion

halsin

halsin is not the arguing type of man. he hates arguing and he never ever wants to do it

still, he knows arguing happens. relationships always include some type of fight even if he never wants to deal with it

arguments with him almost always happen because of a misunderstanding on someones part. it's never because he wants to try to hurt you or vice versa, but because someone heard something the wrong way and it spiraled

but of course you don't realize that immediately and start arguing over whatever it was that was said

halsin is the type of person to distance himself for a little while to collect his thoughts

he never wants to say something he doesn't mean in an argument, but it has happened before.. and it took at least a week for the two of you to make up because you were obviously hurt by it

but he doesn't want it to happen again, so he'll take a little time for himself and come back to you with a cooler head

he doesn't think of himself as someone who gets mad easily, and he really isn't, but he'd rather be safe than sorry

normal arguments don't last for very long as you find you can't really stay mad at each other.. but he is usually the one to apologize first even if you started it

he hates it when you're mad at him. it's literally the worst feeling in the world to him and it's like a huge pit in his stomach

he will feel so bad if you ever tell him you feel ignored in an argument

he apologizes a lot and has to reassure you that you're the only person in his life that he loves in this way

he promises to be better at showing it. he takes an entirely different angle on everything he does from then on

always wants to make you feel loved and appreciated <3

gale

similarly to halsin, i think gale is someone to avoid arguments at all costs

he'll agree with a lot of things you say just to avoid arguments over stupid things that don't matter. you like this color for new curtains but he doesn't? he won't say a word. doesn't want to fight over something so small

even if you won't argue about it... he hasn't exactly had the best relationship track record, so he prefers to keep quiet on things like that anyways

when you do fight with him, it's usually because he said something he didn't mean and he immediately regrets it

but unlike halsin, he probably wouldn't walk away and take a few hours for himself and will instead apologize profusely without anything else

he hates fighting. he hates it and he wants it over with

he hates how it makes him feel when he knows you're upset with him and he wants that feeling to go away as soon as possible, so expect him to say he's sorry a million times

he hardly ever yells but he will when he gets mad enough. he immediately regrets it though

again... apologizes over and over

his apologies are all very genuine but he won't blame you if you don't forgive him right away

but you will have to tell him to leave you alone for a while

making up is always nice though. he'll make you dinner for a week afterwards (as if he doesn't do it anyways)

if you ever bring up feeling ignored or belittled in an argument he will go completely silent and apologize after you're done talking

he explains it was never his intent, but he realizes that he could've done better for you, and his apologies are all he can offer until he can prove his worth to you

overall very sweet and understanding about the entire thing too

astarion

i can see astarion hating arguing.. but that doesn't stop him from doing it, either

you hardly ever fight over anything serious but unlike gale he will complain if you pick something out that he doesn't like. he wants something he likes too. if he has to look at it, he wants it to suit his tastes

he's probably a sulker and doesn't apologize first unless he actually really feels bad about something

he likes seeing you say you're sorry. it makes him feel good to know you care enough about him to apologize for fighting over something that never really meant that much to anyone else

he wants some control over things. that's really all he wants

sometimes he will say things he doesn't mean, but he won't apologize immediately

the fight will get worse before it gets better

he isn't really the type of person to yell, but he does sometimes and he hates doing it but sometimes it feels like no one hears him unless he does

if you start a fight because you feel ignored or not good enough or something like that, it's a whole different story

he won't even really argue. he'll sit there and listen to everything you have to say even if you scream at him

definitely will hug you and reassure you that he loves you. he says he's sorry for ever making you feel that way, too

he hates fighting. but he will argue if he feels it's necessary... or when he's overwhelmed

sometimes things come out that he doesn't mean

[k0dster]

Could I please request something Tess/Reader? Maybe reader is with her on a run and they get hurt, and Tess's reactions to that?? :0 Maybe they're already together, or this is the catalyst for them to get together??? Whatever you're comfy with!!

Checkpoint

Tess Servopoulos x GN!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Notes: Eek! My first request! So appreciative of you sending one in, I had such a fun time working on it. Literally love my girl Tess UGH. I tried to keep the reader’s dialogue to a minimum, personal preference but I enjoy when the reader doesn’t say a whole bunch because then you don’t have to mischaracterize yourself. Anyways, hope you enjoy it lovely! <3 (Also gonna apologize for how long this took me, I've been so busy the past few weeks it's not even funny)

Summary: “You didn’t get bit..Did ya’?” Her voice was soft and hesitant, gruff with her southern twang she couldn’t ever seem to cover up. The whole atmosphere seemed lighter as you shook your head, a sigh releasing the obvious tension that filled her frame. "Good.. that- that's good.."

Warnings: just about everything you'd anticipate with TLOU, guns, disgusting detailed descriptions of infected (does this even need a warning?), wounds, gore, dead bodies.

Requests here

`~♡~`

Area 4, Boston MA

Smugglers. The lowest in the pecking order of the apocalyptic society. In the eyes of the "law" that is. Tess provided much more ammunition and food than she believed possible and, in her books at least, it was well worth the risk of being caught.

Boston, a once bustling city, was now filled with gracious amounts of military checkpoints whose armed guards wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in her. It was a fear that came with the business, but she assumed a bullet was better than taking her chances with the virus-filled wasteland that lurked beyond the comfortable confines of the city. Tess had grown accustomed to the ins and outs of checkpoints, working her way through with a practiced ease. Until you showed up. Tess wasn't exactly a welcoming embrace, with a mouth like a sailor and a mean right hook you never wished to be on the receiving end of, you didn't believe you would be with her long. Though, as you began to prove your worth as something more than just another mouth to feed, her defenses began to crumble almost as much as the concrete jungle.

The day had been coming to an unceremonious end when it happened. The last checkpoint clung to the horizon, the melting pinks and oranges of the swirled sky stood as the last glimpses of the warmth of the sun. The mission had gone off without a hitch, your packs heavy against your backs as you traversed the miles of cracking pavement. The supplies would last the harsh first weeks of the snowy winter that was to come. Winter was fast approaching, lingering in a cold chill that cut through your jackets and left your noses pink. Tess had an older jacket wrapped around her shoulders, occasionally pulling it over her chest in hopes it would remain together where the zipper used to be. You had found an old bomber over the summer, spending any off time you could find sewing insolation into the old fabric. It had come out nicely, guarding against the bitter chill the slowly rolling rain would bring.

The concrete beneath your feet was soggy as you two came to a stop before the towering metal wall. It had rained the day prior, soaking cold rain into the asphalt. Tess was quick to rest her hand over your chest, pulling you both to a staggering hault. The whole world seemed unusually quiet; the birds in the trees had fallen silent, the whipping wind had ceased, the usually bustling checkpoint now stood as nothing but an empty sheet of metal. Her hand left your chest and rested over the grip of her handgun, filling the tense atmosphere with a well needed shadow of safety.

“Wait here,” Her tone left little room for argument as she stepped forward, her shoulders tensed and her breath hitched, like a cat waiting to pounce. Even from here you could smell it, the repulsive, sour stench that accompanied the dead. You knew she had noticed it too, her face scrunched into a tight grimace as he attempted to shield her nose with her arm. The usual abundance of guards was now a series of bodies, angry, deep bite marks snuffed in blood covering their exposed skin. The bullets strewn about the scene left little room for imagination, leaving only the burning question of the culprit.

Tess crouched to inspect a corpse, immediately stiffening as a gargling clicking sucked away the tense silence. She struggled to find the source of the jarring noise before it was practically on top of her. Only, it was on top of you. A sharp pain shot through your arms as it attempted to hold you still, its jagged mouth clamping for your scarf covered neck. The vibrant crest of mold that replaced its scalp was dull and grey with the chilling cold, its open mouth leaking with a foul smelling saliva that now coated your arms. The jacket that covered its body, as ripped and mangled as it was, stood as a reminder of the person it used to be - breathing and struggling against the wasteland - its story lost to time, left for only the people it knew in its run of life to know. It thrashed with you as you struggled to push it off, its clumsy mass of limbs wrestling to find anywhere to sink its decaying teeth. Tess was yelling something you couldn’t make out over the shrieking before its weight left you, tearing your jacket and the skin that sat beneath it in the process. If your ears didn’t hurt before, they did now, two shots echoing through the air before the undead collapsed dead against the ground.

Tess was splattered in blood, but she looked okay as she inspected your arms for a few short moments before she was shoving you towards a building. The old convenience store provided enough shelter to allow for a moment of clarity. You slumped down against the North wall, resting behind the old payment desk. The walls had long been stripped of anything useful, leaving ominously empty shelves and old, broken refrigerators covered in nothing but broken glass and old memories. After a few moments she fell to a crouch in front of you, her brows furrowed with worry. It was the first time you had seen her truly worried, her calloused hands finding your arms, her eyes meeting yours in confirmation as she gingerly rolled up your sleeves. Finger marks tore down your arms, crescent shaped marks mid way up your arms dribbling small amounts of blood; farther down they became more shallow, burning hot against the chilled air. Your jaw clenched instinctively at the contact, earning a sympathetic smile from Tess as she slung her pack from her shoulder. The little first aid she had scattered in her pack didn’t provide much: half a roll of gauze, an almost empty bottle of antiseptic, and an old, already blood stained rag.

She rested the rag over the opening of the bottle of disinfectant, listening to the small amount of liquid sloshing within the bottle, deeping the red on the torn up cloth. Her hand met your wrist as she carefully extended it out between the two of you, thumb skimming over your skin as the cloth met the scratches. It seeped into the wound, leaving a deep sting that shot through your arm and forced a sharp gasp from your throat. Her thumb dug a little deeper into your pulse, rubbing comforting circles as she meticulously worked away at your skin, a deep crease still stuck in her brow. You could tell she wanted to speak, her eyes occasionally meeting yours as if she was going to, but something in her hesitated and she continued her work. As Tess fell to motioning for your other arm, you finally spoke up,

“Something you wanna say?” Her shoulders tensed beneath her jacket, her expression loosening before it fell back into a tight focus, the rag sending another dull burning up your other arm.

“You didn’t get bit..Did ya’?” Her voice was soft and hesitant, gruff with her southern twang she couldn’t ever seem to cover up. The whole atmosphere seemed lighter as you shook your head, a sigh releasing the obvious tension that filled her frame. "Good.. that- that's good.." With that the room fell into, this time, a more comfortable silence. As she pulled away to grab the roll of bandages a smile warmed her face, “Gonna have quite the badass scar,” It allowed for a change in mood as she began to cover the wounds from the harsh air with soft gauze. “One hell of a story too.”

“Joel missed out, imagine the look on his face when you tell him you killed a clicker.” Her smile grew slightly as she let out an assumed huff, her hands coming to a stop as she finished wrapping. Pulling your sleeves back down she allowed herself to slump down beside you,

“He’s never gonna let us out of the house again,” She sarcastically groaned, the back of her head meeting the wall. “I can hear the lecture now.” Her ponytail swung to the side, swiping over her neck as she gazed over at you, clearing her throat. “‘You two are gonna get yourselves killed one of these days!’” Her Joel impression was mediocre at best but it still sent you both in a fit of giggling and overly exaggerated impressions.

Tess was still giggling as she let out a yawn, glancing through the front window at the dark abyss that lay outside. It was fairly quiet, apart from you still chuckling at yourself, leaving room for a rare, but welcomed, moment of peace. Her head fell back against the wall once again, her eyes shooting over to you as she muttered, “Should really get some sleep, gonna be a long day tomorrow.” She watched as you looked outside, clearly tense at the idea of letting your guard down when there was probably more infected lurking beyond the comfortable walls of the convenience store. “I’ll take the first watch,” Tess was quick to reassure, her legs sprawling out across the dust ridden floor as she placed her pistol beside her thigh. It was enough to calm you, your cheek pressing into her shoulder as you lolled over into her. The miles of walking were finally beginning to reach your legs in a sore aching, exhaustion clawing its way into your drooping eyelids. Your arms still burned, but everything seemed to feel a little bit better as Tess snaked her arm around your shoulders, tugging you a little closer to her.

“Goodnight, Tess…” You drowsily murmured against her jacket, taking in the comforting, earthy smell that always lingered on her. By the time she replied you were already fast asleep, a smile gracing her lips as your breath evened into a slow, steady rhythm and your muscles released the tension they’d been carrying throughout the day.

“G’night, sweetie…” She whispers back, her lips pressing a careful kiss to the top of your head, her hands tracing gentle patterns against your sleeve. She wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but she was much happier focused on the soft breathing of the figure beside her than the worry of the approaching day.

[possibilistfanfiction]

for surgeons au.,, perhaps some hurt/comfort :,)

[hbd @gohandinhand. sorry but tbf... u asked for this lol (also so many of you asked for 'what if bea gets hurt' bc we all share one collective grey's anatomy-ass braincell // also on ao3]

//

‘dr. silva is still in the tumor resection?’

it’s only, like, your fifth week being a doctor, so there are so many things you don’t know all the time; you add dr. villaumbrosia asking this question to the list. still, she’s kind of the scariest person you’ve ever met in your life — unflappable and a little mean to everyone but her patients and their families, talented and whip-smart beyond belief, willing to take on the hardest cases — and so you answer anyway with a nod. you only know this because zaire promised he would come find you just after he’d finished with dr. silva — to celebrate at the bar down the street and hopefully more than that too — but you don’t add that; you don’t think dr. villaumbrosia would appreciate it all that much.

‘okay,’ she says, more shaken than you’ve ever seen her.

‘is something… did something go wrong, or?’

‘with ava’s surgery, no, i don’t think so.’ 

ava is new; you’re not embarrassed to admit that you and basically your whole intern class has been keeping track of who’s with whom amongst the attendings, so you know they’re all either dating or friends or some kind of family. still, dr. villaumbrosia never uses first names at work. 

‘there’s a trauma being flown in,’ she continues. ‘there was an avalanche, and dr. choi was skiing in the backcountry today. i don’t — i don’t know more details.’ she worries her hands for a moment. ‘she hasn’t answered her sat phone.’

‘oh,’ is the best you’ve got, disarmed by the obvious fear that lingers around every inch of her.

‘dr. silva can’t know, if she does come in. not until after he’s finished the hardest part of the procedure and can pass it off.’

not that you were going to be the one to randomly decide to go to dr. silva’s OR and say any of this, but you nod. ‘of course.’

‘i need you to go check on tai; she’s in daycare.’

‘uh, i don’t — i’ve never —‘

dr. villaumbrosia waves you off. ‘she’s cute. looks like choi, acts like silva.’ 

when you don’t respond immediately, dr. villaumbrosia just glares. ‘yeah, of course,’ you hurry to say.

‘and then i need you to go to the ER for the trauma. dr. masters already knows you’re coming; you’re going to see what’s going on and tell me and no one else. got it?’

‘yes, dr. villaumbrosia. will do.’

‘great.’

to be honest, you have no idea where the daycare even is, and this certainly isn’t what you went to a bazillion years of school for, but whatever. maybe this will get you on dr. villaumbrosia’s good side. 

‘and dr. al-najjar?’

you nod.

‘i know this seems ridiculous. but dr. choi is — she’s my favorite person. it’s important.’

you understand in your own way: you facetime your little brother every day, no matter how tired you are, no matter how late or early it is for you. ‘i’ll tell you everything as soon as i can.’

‘good.’

/

tai is, apparently, a fourteen month old, very cute toddler, who really does look like dr. choi. when you explain, very briefly, to one of the daycare teacher that dr. villaumbrosia sent you to see how she’s doing, make sure she’s okay, she nods and shows you over to an area of the room with soft mats and some wooden blocks. tai smiles at you, all baby teeth and big cheeks, and says mostly nonsense but a few words — blocks, doctor, mama — and then promptly knocks over her block tower with definite glee. 

you snap a nice, cute picture of tai smiling in her little giraffe hoodie and send it off to dr. villaumbrosia. you’ve never been a baby guy, and you’re certain she isn’t either, because there’s no way you could ever possibly choose her specialty if you were, but she loves the photo anyway — the first and only time she’ll ever respond to a text from you like that, you’re absolutely certain — and it makes you smile, just for a moment. when you wave goodbye to tai she laughs, and you hope, very concretely, that she goes home with both of her parents tonight, or soon, at least, that her family stays as full and happy and warm as it had been this morning.

/

you feel genuinely nervous and way too invested: you’ve met dr. choi in passing a handful of times, and she’d assisted on one of dr. villaumbrosia’s surgeries once that you’d gotten to hold a retractor for, but according to emma — the best gossip and also dr. choi’s favorite intern, allegedly — says that dr. choi is kind and quiet and a wonderful teacher, patient and skilled and efficient. you’d been looking forward to being on her service soon, honestly, and, even in the past few weeks, you’re starting to understand that the people here, that you spend so much time with, are starting to feel like family.

dr. masters nods at you, her braids already tucked away beneath a cap, trauma gown on. you’re on peds, so you don’t know if you’re really here to help with anything — dr. villaumbrosia wasn’t called down for any consults, still set for the routine bowel repair she’d been scheduled for this afternoon, so you’re fairly certain there weren’t any children coming in — but she gestures toward the gown and gloves anyway.

‘just in case we need more hands on deck,’ she says as way of explanation. ‘there’s four people, and we don’t really know the extent of their injuries.’

you nod — what else is there to say — and things are very, very still until dr. masters gets a page and then everything is moving — loudly, organized, seamless — and you’re in awe, for a moment, of dr. masters’ ER. you love trauma surgery and she’s, like, kind of the biggest badass in the country, and it’s pretty fucking cool to watch her very quickly get everyone exactly where they need to be in the amount of time it takes for her to walk to the elevator that leads up to the helipad.

the wind whips from the blades when the doors open, rainy and miserable, and your heart is caught in your throat when the door opens. you see dr. masters’ hands shake, although you’d never, ever mention it, locked behind her back in tight fists, until dr. choi’s face — a bruise along her jaw, a scrape that runs underneath her eye, all the way into her hair, the tip of her nose and the tips of her ears a painful red, probably from frostbite — comes into view.

dr. choi, strapped into a stretcher, covered in a blanket and hooked up to an IV, immediately starts talking, before the stretcher is even fully out of the helicopter. ‘the three coming out,’ she starts, ‘i dug them out as much as i could. i did an emergency thoracostomy on david, you need to push a ton of antibiotics. anna needs to go to the OR immediately for her pelvis, make sure cam —‘

‘—beatrice,’ dr. masters says, rushing to her side and, if you were to bet, wanting to sink to her knees in relief. ‘oh my god.’

‘i’m fine,’ dr. choi says, annoyed at being made to stay on the stretcher. ‘i properly deployed my avalanche airbag. but mary, listen —‘

dr. masters holds dr. choi’s face in her hands and then kisses the top of dr. choi’s head. it’s tender, and you wonder how long they’ve known each other to afford that level of intimacy, that level of care. ‘i got them, bea. i promise. we gotta take care of you too or ava will kill me.’

dr. choi relaxes, just minutely, but you can tell — maybe because you would trust dr. masters with your life or anyone else’s, maybe at the mention of dr. silva, maybe some combination of both — and she nods.

dr. masters rolls her eyes and kisses the top of dr. choi’s head once more. ‘stupid hero. let me go make all your hard work worthwhile.’

dr. choi smiles, definitely reassured now. ‘you better.’

/

you’re not surprised, exactly, that chief superion is waiting to take over dr. choi’s care, but you are a little surprised when dr. superion squeezes her shoulder gently and smiles, a little sad. 

‘ava is still in surgery, so let’s get the worst of it taken care of before she’s done, yes?’

dr. choi nods, growing more exhausted by the minute. which is fair, you think, as she tells dr. superion — and you, because you’re stuck in this room until you have a real report for dr. villaumbrosia beyond the text you’d sent that just said Dr. Choi is talking and moving, no head or neck injuries — about how the avalanche airbag had worked, even if it was frightening; about how her transceiver, according to SAR, had helped them get there faster than they would have otherwise.  

‘ava always teased me about how expensive the gear was, but look who’s laughing now.’

‘well, to be fair,’ dr. superion says, looking at dr. choi’s x-rays, ‘i don’t think either of you are laughing.’ 

‘oh, yikes,’ dr. choi says, looking at the films too. she’s on a fair amount of pain medicine at this point, but she’s right: there’s a few nasty fractures along the bones in her left wrist. but, other than those and a few cracked ribs and some mild frostbite on her nose, ears, and the tips of her fingers, it seems like it’s just cuts and bruises: nothing she won’t heal from, and far better off than the others who came in with her.

‘i, uh — sorry,’ you say, feeling like you’re interrupting, but they both just shake their heads, waving off your apology. ‘dr. villaumbrosia sent me to see if you’re okay, and i’m supposed to go talk to her once i know. which, i guess i know now.’ not your best work, and in front of the chief, but oh well.

dr. choi smiles fondly. ‘thank you for telling me. i’ll never let lilith forget it.’ 

dr. superion doesn’t smile, but it seems like she wants to. ‘go ahead, dr. al-najjar. you can tell her that we’re admitting dr. choi to ortho; dr. alvarez will operate tomorrow, once the swelling has gone down.’

‘and tell lilith i love her too.’

‘i — uh—‘

dr. superion laughs. ‘go, dr. al-najjar.’

/

you’ve just finished your report to dr. villaumbrosia — in the middle of a surgery, but it’s clear her shoulders relax immediately, continuing to operate smoothly — when dr. silva flings open the door of the OR.

‘hello ava,’ dr. villaumbrosia says, not even looking up from the stitch she’s putting in. ‘she’s okay.’

dr. silva, breathing so hard her mask is getting sucked into her mouth and nose, doubles over, her hands on her knees. ‘i gotta do more cardio, oh my god,’ he mumbles, then takes a deep breath and stands. ‘you’re sure?’

‘yes,’ dr. villaumbrosia, ‘i had dr. al-najjar make sure personally. he also checked on tai; she’s doing great.’

‘very cute,’ you say and then debate just quitting residency here altogether, but dr. silva smiles at you.

‘thanks man,’ she says. ‘sorry you missed this surgery.’

‘the bowel was perforated,’ dr. villaumbrosia says. ‘it was quite disgusting, to be honest.’

‘well then,’ dr. silva says, ‘hey, you’re welcome! you got to see my adorable kid and my sexy wife. who, as lovely as your company always is, lil, i’m gonna go see now.’

‘she deployed that avalanche airbag, dug three other people out, and did a field chest tube by the time SAR got there.’ 

‘hot.’

‘insane, actually,’ dr. villaumbrosia says. ‘but give her my love.’

/

two days later you’re back on shift — after drinks and truly, genuinely great sex with zaire that still ended up happening despite everything, god bless — and you swing by ortho before you go up to peds. you’re not friends with dr. choi or dr. silva, but you do want to see how things are going anyway. your mom always says it’s better to be kinder than necessary, and you’re starting to believe it.

they’re an adorable family, you think, tai showing dr. choi her lion stuffy and babbling excitedly, sitting on the hospital bed between her legs, turning every now and then toward dr. silva in a chair by her bedside. dr. choi, her arm in a brace and a sling, looks pretty good overall: her eyes seem clear, the bruises along her jaw are already starting to turn green and yellow, a great sign of healing, and the redness on her nose and ears has lessened considerably. 

also, she’s sitting up and talking animatedly, clearly happy with her daughter and her wife there. from her chart — you looked it up in the system before you came, whatever — you’re pretty sure she’s going to get to go home today, which you suspect is what the small duffle bag by dr. silva’s feet is for. 

‘all i’m saying,’ you hear from dr. silva, ’is that your nose could’ve fallen off.’

‘ava,’ dr. choi says, exasperated and laughing.

dr. silva sits back and pouts, exaggerating with crossed arms. 

‘i will be more careful,’ dr. choi concedes, but it doesn’t feel much like a concession the way she smiles at tai and then runs a gentle hand over her wispy hair. emma — who is an incredible gossip but you’re starting to think she also just has a giant crush — had told you and zaire that dr. choi is, like, an experienced outdoors person with certifications in all kinds of different safety courses and activities; you know she and dr. villaumbrosia have done stints with MSF together too. 

‘good,’ dr. silva says. ‘because lord knows i cannot raise tai by myself.’

dr. choi frowns, then offers her good hand to dr. silva, who scoots closer and takes it with a kiss to her scraped knuckles. 

‘plus, while i would deal, obviously, you’d probably be less hot if your nose fell off.’

‘“probably”?’

dr. silva shrugs. ‘i love you.’

‘i love you too.’

‘would you still love me if my nose fell off?’

‘ava.’

/

‘good morning, dr. al-najjar,’ dr. choi says when you knock lightly on the open door of her office. it’s impeccably neat, a few pictures of dr. silva and tai on her desk. she’s wearing the brace on her wrist still but no sling; her bruises and frostbite have faded. in her scrubs and white coat and clogs, a fresh buzzcut and a cup of coffee in her good hand, she looks exactly the surgeon you’ve looked forward to working with. 

‘good morning, dr. choi. welcome back.’

she smiles and closes her office door, starts leading you down the hall. ‘thank you. and, apologizes in advance that you won’t have any surgeries with me for the next two weeks until i’m officially cleared.’ she rolls her eyes. 

‘that’s okay,’ you say. ‘more sleep, honestly.’

‘true. and,’ she says, opening a door to the most incredible, brand new lab you’ve ever seen, ‘i can promise that the research we’ll get to work on will be worth it.’

‘i always thought i would go into trauma,’ you tell her, ‘but i think i just fell in love.’

she grins. ‘the heart wants what it wants.’

you pause a moment but then you can’t help yourself: you laugh.

‘in that case,’ she says, ‘let me show you around, and let’s get to work.’

[e-dubbc11]

If you'd like to here's a wee request for your winter sleepover! ☃️

F!Reader, Frank, and Billy are friends but Bill knows damn well that you and Frank have been eyeing each other up for ages but neither has been bold enough to make a move. Maybe he intervenes and stages something cute or where they're forced to be together alone, and things get fluffy and sweet between them ☺️🥰

Stef! Thank you for sending in this ask! I’ve never really written for Frank as the object of the reader’s affection before but this was fun! I hope you like it!

Bullseye

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F! Reader; supporting character Billy Russo

Warnings: Swear words, mentions of a divorce and a miscarriage, mention of the death of Frank’s family (Billy was no part of it in this little au, I can’t write that, I just can’t), and fluff

Word Count: 1.5K-ish

Summary: You join your friends dart league. She thinks it will be good for you to get out of the house and also thinks someone new might catch your eye.

A/N: I guess you could say this is my first Frank fic. Just a little meet cute. I wasn’t sure who to tag for this one, I hope it’s ok I just put everyone from my Billy tag list on this one

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“What do I know about throwin’ darts?!” You asked with narrowed eyes and a slight scowl on your face, planting another dart near the bullseye.

“You know a lot more than you think you do, that’s for sure, y/n!” Jamie said. “I’ve never seen anyone that has picked it up like you have.”

Taking a sip of your beer, you replied, “Jamie, I’m just messin’ around, I don’t know shit about throwin’ them, let alone enough to be in the league with you.”

She took a sip from her glass.

“Come on! It’s just for fun anyway! I get a break from my husband and the kids for a few hours a week and you…” she paused, “You get a break from your couch.”

“HEY!” You said, slightly perturbed at her statement. Although she wasn’t wrong. You haven’t really been out much since your divorce.

After a couple of beers and a few casual rounds of darts, you agreed to join Jamie’s league. She had been wanting you to join and be on her team for awhile now. She also thought it would be the perfect way to get you out of the house and among the land of the living again.

The divorce was hard on you. After your miscarriage, your ex-husband withdrew from you and there was no coming back from it. The distance was too far and he thought it would be best if you just separated. HE thought it would be best…he didn’t care what you wanted.

But if he didn’t want to try and work through the pain and the hurt of it all, then you didn’t want to either. He found someone new right away and his new wife was ready to give birth any day now which is why you were out with Jamie, trying to drink your problems away…even if it was just for a little while.

“Ok, that was a little harsh. Your ex is a dickhead who abandoned you at your lowest point and I would do anything to see you genuinely happy again.” Said Jamie.

With a shy smile, you said, “I’d really like to be happy again too.”

**********

Your weekly outing of throwing darts was a lot more fun than you thought it would be. Plus, the scenery was great…Frank Castle and Billy Russo. Billy was traditionally handsome, deep brown eyes, well-groomed beard, nice clothes, and a sexy voice. But Frank…there was just something about him that drew you in.

He wasn’t traditionally handsome like Billy but Frank just had something that had you stealing glances when he wasn’t looking. The deep gruff tone to his voice was incredibly sexy; you could tell his nose had been broken on more than one occasion but that just made him more attractive to you.

Jamie let him teach you the rules and regulations of the game. She knew he would have to get close, possibly put his hands on you to show you some things. She kind of had a feeling you might be into Frank.

“Is THIS why you wanted me to join?!” You whispered yelled into her ear.

Jamie’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Whaaaat? Nothing wrong with a little handsome scenery. If I wasn’t married, I’d ride Billy like a rented mule but I thought Frank seemed more like your type.” She said.

Looking over at Frank and Billy talking, you bit back a smile and turned back to talk to Jamie. “Frank is very handsome and he’s very sweet. He has sadness in his eyes though.”

After you said that, Jamie went on to tell you that Frank had a family. He had a wife and two kids. Billy had told her what happened to them, helped Frank get even for what those assholes did but it’s not like it brings them back.

That story broke you. To have your whole family taken from you and there was nothing you could do to stop it sounded excruciating. You had lost a baby but nothing like what Frank had been through.

Billy and Frank were still talking.

“Frankie…” Said Billy.

Frank, continuing to practice, replied, “Yeah…what is it, Bill?”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that y/n has a little bit of a crush on you.” Billy said with a wide Cheshire cat smile.

Frank took a glance over his shoulder at you.

“Ya think so huh? Well you would notice that, right Bill?” Said Frank. “She is beautiful but her eyes are sad. Wonder what happened to her?”

Your first week of playing darts, you had a little too much beer and told Billy about your divorce, your miscarriage, and how your ex walked out on you. It probably wasn’t one of your finer moments but it was out there now and you couldn’t take it back.

Anger stretched across Frank’s face. “Fuckin’ scumbag.” He growled.

Billy had a serious tone to his voice. “Look Frankie, she's experienced loss too albeit a little different from yours…you should talk to her. Plus, she blushes every time you look at her.”

Frank stopped throwing darts, looked at Billy and replied, “A loss is a loss Bill, it hurts no matter what. Yeah, maybe I will talk to her.”

**********

You and Frank continued to dance around each other for another few weeks. They were filled with stolen glances and smiles. Frank did give you a few lessons on how to throw a little better.

You could feel his warm breath against the top of your ear, the way his shoulder touched yours when he would stand behind you, and the gravelly tone to his voice gave you goosebumps as he was giving you pointers.

“Good…line it up now, yeah? That’s it. Now remember, a short hard flick of the wrist and…let it go, sweetheart. That’s better, stable grip and not too tight. Attagirl.” He said with a smirk.

It wasn’t easy to get a smile out of Frank but it looked good on him. You, on the other hand, were elated after hitting three bullseyes in a row.

After taking a sip of beer, Frank asked, “You been divorced long? Sorry, I’m not exactly subtle. Bill mentioned it to me.”

“Yeah, I told Billy a lot that night, didn’t I.” You said, slightly embarrassed.

“Bill has a big mouth sometimes but he’s trying to help.” He said. “He’s tryin’ to play matchmaker is what he’s doin’.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, you felt butterflies in your stomach, and warmth stretched across your chest. You tried to cover your face a little so Frank couldn’t see you blushing.

Frank brought up your divorce but you decided against talking about his family; maybe you would just let him bring it up if he ever felt comfortable enough to.

Noticing it was a little too quiet in the bar, you took a sip from your glass and looked around. No one from your team was in sight, not Jamie, not Billy…nobody. You only saw members of the team you were supposed to be playing in a few minutes.

“Frank?” You asked.

“Yeah sweetheart?” Asked Frank, holding the dark and aiming it at the target.

“Where…where did everyone go?” You asked.

With narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, Frank took a quick look around the bar, then took a look outside. Billy’s car was gone and so was Jamie’s. Frank stormed back inside and took out his phone as you tried to stifle a smile.

“I’ll kill him; he’s my ride home.” Said Frank.

Frank stepped away so you couldn’t really hear his conversation with Billy.

As Frank walked back to where you were standing, you asked, “What did he say? Where are they?”

Frank smirked, putting his phone back in his pocket, he replied, “Well, he said he’s not telling us where they went, that they forfeited the match, and we should relax, have a drink and get to know each other a little better. He’ll be back later to get me.”

“They forfeited!? I HATE losing! Jamie knows that I HATE to lose!” You said with clenched fists and through gnashed teeth.

“I hate to lose; Bill does too but he always said if it was for the greater good then it was ok.” Frank said in a low voice with a slight smile.

You smiled warmly at him. “You must be the greater good for him then.”

Frank inched closer, you could feel his warm breath against your eyelashes as he replied, “I guess I am. He’s a good friend.” Pointing at your glass and walking away from you, toward the bar, he asked, “You ready for a refill, sweetheart?”

For the first time in a long time, you had gone through a stretch of time without thinking about your ex-husband or feeling sorry for yourself.

Maybe you were finally ready to move on with your life and enjoy the little things in it like darts with friends and drinks with a handsome man with kind brown eyes.

“Oh…yes please. I am…very ready.” You said softly.

You were definitely excited for more nights like this.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @ittybxttykxttytxtty

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[lady-pug]

if we could wake up

Chapter I of Wouldn't It Be Nice

Summary: You sustain a head injury while on a mission but Whiskey isn’t fast enough to administer the alpha gel, so your memories of your time at Statesman don’t come back. Instead, you only remember up until the day before you were recruited and your memory ends up being reset every night. Jack makes it his mission to make you fall in love with him everyday (50 First Dates AU)

Pairing: Jack Daniels | Agent Whiskey x Reader

Word count: 1,1k

Warnings: major head injury (bullet to the head, but it's reversed using Statesman technology), memory loss

Notes: Hello dearest readers, it is I. I bring thee something that has been sitting among my WIPs for over two (I kid you not) whole years. I’ve had chapters one and two of this story completely ready stored in my files alongside all my other WIPs and simply never remembered to publish it FOR OVER TWO YEARS! Shame on me, wtf. Which makes me quite sad because it was one of my favorites to work on when I first came up with this idea. But anyways here it is.

I distinctly remember having come up with the idea for this after watching ‘50 First Dates’ four times in the same week (if it wasn’t clear by now this is my all time favorite rom-com) and thinking it fit right up with this cowboy right here.

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this story, and if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Next part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Bullets were flying, coming from everywhere. Whiskey could barely look over the cover he was hiding behind before someone was shooting at him.

“Ginger!” he screamed into the earpiece “Cider’s down!”

“What happened?” he heard the static voice of Agent Ginger Ale, or as her friends liked to call her, Elizabeth or Liz, over the comms.

“Dunno. Some goons are shooting at us. She just went down.” he ducked again after failing to locate his partner “Can’t even find her. Probably shot at.”

“Get to her immediately. If she got hit in the head you need to administer the alpha gel as soon as possible!”

“I’m trying here, Ging! Ain’t as easy with twenty guys aiming at your head.”

“Use one of those stunning bombs I made you.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to use those prototypes yet.”

“That’s all you got now!” he could tell Ginger was becoming agitated “Just do it, Jack!”

He did just that. Picking up one of the stunning bombs in his pocket he threw it as hard as he could towards the barricade. A loud, piercing sound erupted almost immediately, hurting his ears even from where he was. Poor goons, he thought. With his ears still ringing, he took off using his whip and lasso to take out the men one by one.

Once the place was clear and no other enemies could be detected, he ran towards the place he last saw you. Where you had gone down. He came to a halt, however, his heart dropping to his stomach when his eyes landed on your slumped form, a bullet hole on your temple and blood covering the ground.

“Shit, Ging! They blew her brains out.”

“Administer the gel, quick! It’s been way too long already.”

He fumbled with the equipment, almost dropping the roll of gel, before he quickly placed  it over your face, making sure to cover the wound.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m here. I’m going to take care of you. Ging is going to fix your pretty little head in no time, yeah?”

The gel inflated and seemed to be doing its job. 

“Ginger, the gel’s been administered. What now?”

“I’m sending a rescue team your way. Try keeping her head slightly elevated.” she said “And Jack? She’s going to be okay.”

Jack nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. He moved around and propped his back against a tree, his legs extended in front of him. As carefully as he could, he dragged your body, laying your head on his lap, running his fingers through your hair.

“You are going to be fine, sweetheart. I promise.”

The following hours were amongst the longest of his life. Jack would even go as far as to say it was almost as long as the hours he went without any news from his wife the day she had died. As soon as the plane landed on the tarmac, a gurney was ready to take you, rolling you to Ginger’s lab.

She wouldn’t allow him to go inside. The machine you were currently hooked onto had nanoparticles working on your brain to regenerate your neurons, astrocytes and neuroglia, or something sciency he couldn’t quite understand. He was in absolute agony not knowing how you were.  

Finally, after what seemed like weeks, Ginger finally walked out of the lab. He scrambled to his feet from where he was sitting slumped against the wall in front of the lab’s doors.

“How is she?” he blurted out.

“Stable. But the damage to her brain was extensive. And the alpha gel wasn’t administered within the correct window of time.”

“Shit, Liz- I- If I had gotten to her quicker…”

“Hey, hey Jack” she laid a hand on his shoulder “It’s not your fault. There were 23 men shooting at the both of you. Our entire elite squad couldn’t take them all out that quick. You did all you could.”

He sighed, only half believing her.

“What does that mean to her?”

It was Ginger’s turn to sigh.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll only be able to assess the real extent of the damage once she wakes up.”

His shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Why don’t you take a shower, maybe try taking a nap? I’ll wake you up if anything changes.”

He nodded, actually wanting desperately to clean up now that Ginger mentioned it, but already knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink until he knew you were safe. 

Jack walked slowly back towards his quarters, almost dragging his feet into the shower. The water seemed to sooth his aches, but not his worries. He couldn’t get the image of your form, suddenly dropping lifeless, out of his head. Everytime he closed his eyes that scene replayed in the back of his eyelids like some sick, twisted film.

He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t lose another person he- shit, did he love you? You have been partners for years now, always had each other's backs. You were one of the few people he truly trusted, someone he felt comfortable enough to open up and be vulnerable. To be himself. Recently, he’s started feeling something more than just the friendship you’ve nourished for the past years. He felt the urge to protect you, even though he knew for a fact you could look after yourself. He wanted to kiss you goodnight and wake up next to you the following morning. So did he love you? 

Yeah. Yeah, he did. He knew that now. And he couldn’t lose you.

Laying on his bed, his hair was still wet from the shower when Ginger pinged him. He was out of bed and halfway across the base in the blink of an eye. He couldn’t remember running that fast in years. Bursting through the door of the lab, he found you sitting on one of the pristine white beds, Ginger in front of you holding a clipboard.

“Sweetheart…”

Both you and Ginger looked at him with wide eyes. Ginger walked around your bed in his direction.

“Whiskey, wait-” but he didn’t listen.

“Sweetheart, thank all things sacred, you’re okay!” 

He rushed forward, wrapping his arms around you in the tightest embrace you two had ever shared. He pulled back, hardly noticing the way you stiffened in his embrace, cupping your cheeks so he could look into your eyes.

“Jack-” he faintly registered Ginger’s voice behind him, but he didn’t truly care. All he cared about was that you were safe. That is until you opened your mouth to talk.

“I’m sorry,” you smiled politely at him “but who are you?”

[2aceofspades]

I have a serious question. So, do you fully comprehend how awesome you are? Because damn. You’re legit one of my fav artists. You just consistently churn out these heartfelt masterpieces—sketches, doodles, finished or unfinished, they all MEAN something. You’ve also ALWAYS been so nice to talk to. I often get discouraged by the lack of interaction I get on platforms when I try to go outside my comfort zone and reach out, especially on Twitter. But any time I’ve asked a question or made a comment, you always take the time to respond and that’s just…so kind of you. So considerate. You don’t have to do that, but you do and it’s just lovely.

Anyway… I randomly remembered you saying that you didn’t feel as comfortable drawing Donnie and I just have to say that, whether it feels more comfortable now or not, he looks fantastic! Then again, every character you draw does! And of course Leo is my fav—my comfort character—so I’m not going to lie, it’s fun to see you draw so much of him.

I just can’t get over all the details in your work. I’m no artist, but I can appreciate how much emotion goes into your art. The squiggly lines when someone is nervous, the specific looks in their eyes, small details like scratching when anxious (I know I commented on that on a previous post)—you’re just so great with showing emotion!

Okay, okay. Gushing done… for now. Hope you have a fantastic week and thank you for being your awesome self!

Oh my stars waaaah-

When I tell you that I was not prepared for such a lovely and sweet ask oh boy-

I'm like...literally almost speechless oh my shining stars in the sky 🥹 like, I'm struggling to respond without blubbering too much oh jeez-

Just...thank you so much, seriously. Putting emotion and meaning into my work is what I always strive for, so for someone to recognise and compliment that...it just means the world to me. I am so honored.

I also have definitely felt discouraged at times when interacting with posts and such. I do my best to not take it personally, but I understand that sometimes...it's difficult. I do my best to respond to asks, comments, etc., even if I'm a bit late with responding. I know I'm not perfect and I can be a little scatterbrained, but I really do enjoy engaging with y'all. I have such a lovely following, and I love giving back to y'all as well <3

Ah, yes...Donnie...my sweet sweet Donald. I still think he looks very stiff and wonky when I draw him...especially f!Donnie. His shell...confuses me. But! Thank you for your kind words and your support! It definitely helps pep me up to draw him some more hehe 🤗✨

Also, I have to comment on Leo cuz he's also my favorite and my comfort character as well :3 I love drawing him even if sometimes he gives me such grief. I don't wanna think about how many times I've drawn that goober 😶

Anywhizzle!

Thank you again so so SO much for such a wonderfully kind and thoughtful message 🥹 I really appreciate you taking some time out of your day to send so much kindness my way. It really means a lot to me 🙌💙✨ Gah- I hope you have a fantastic week as well!

[ladytauria]

Jaytimkon high School fic???? Maybe with popular skater boy Tim 🥺🥺🥺

Sending love and inspo!!!

i adore hs aus xD i did reference skater tim, though maybe not the popular part so much ^^;

i decided to go established timkon & pre-jaytimkon for this one~ i hope you like it!! thank u sm for the prompt <3

>> AO3 <<

“Oh my god, Tim. Just ask him out already.” Kon hisses, startling Tim out of his thoughts.

Or. Well.

He wasn’t really thinking so much as he was stealing glances across the library, where Jason has his nose buried in a book. He always does. Even at lunch, Jason doesn’t really sit with anyone; just picks an out of the way table to read while he eats.

It’s cute. Especially when he gets really into it, and forgets he’s in public; mouthing the words, making faces, even uttering soft noises.

Tim would feel bad about sneaking glances if he didn’t know Kon’s been doing the exact same thing.

“I— The whole school knows we’re dating, Kon.”

“I’ll go with you.” Kon shrugs, twirling a pencil between his fingers. “So he knows it’s chill.”

Tim glares. “Then why can’t you ask him out?” he hisses. Tim’s not the only one crushing, here. Why does he have to be the one to ask?

Kon rolls his eyes. “Because I asked you out,” he says, like that has any bearing on anything whatsoever. He pauses, then adds, “Also, you liked him first.”

“Yeah, which means you have experience.” Tim chooses to ignore the second part.

“Also means you’re in desperate need of some.” Kon rolls his eyes. Tim pouts at him, but Kon stares back at him, unimpressed. “Dude. You are like… one more longing sigh away from leaving him anonymous love letters. Just ask him out.”

Huh.

Love letters… Tim hadn’t thought about that angle. Jason’s social media presence is pretty sparse, except for a book blog he updates two or three times a week. Hadn’t Jason said something about the secret admirer trope in romance a bit ago? But was it positive or negative…? Hm.

“Oh my god. Babe.” Kon put his face in his hands. “That’s not a suggestion. Please don’t make me call Cassie.”

Tim stills. If Kon calls Cassie, it’s really only a matter of time before Cissie and Bart get involved. And while it’s possible they could take Tim’s side— Tim doesn’t want to listen to it.

“We could sign the letter?” he offers anyway.

“Tim.”

Ah. Kon’s no-bullshit tone has entered the chat.

Fair enough. Tim would probably end up spending weeks just trying to compose the damn thing before giving up entirely. Fine. Okay. Tim can wing it. He’s great at that.

He drags his hands down his face. “Okay. Fine," he says. "I can do that."

Kon pats his arm. “You’ve got this, babe.”

Tim appreciates Kon’s confidence, even if he doesn’t share it.

It takes Kon’s foot nudging his ankle for him to stand. The space between their tables seems insurmountable, like Jason might as well be separated from him by an ocean. Tim looks back at Kon.

Kon, again, looks unimpressed. The raised brow and crossed arms are very Ma Kent. Tim almost tells him so, but thinks better of it. Instead, he turns.

Okay. Ask Jason out. Tim can do that. He’s done scarier. Asking a cute guy out is nothing compared to getting his ass kicked at the skate park. Besides, he knows Jason. He’s the only reason Tim passed English last trimester, after all, and he was… surprisingly patient about it. Well. It was a little rough at first, but. Then something shifted, and it got easier, and Tim. He’d thought he’d liked Jason before, but actually getting to talk to him—

Well.

Maybe Kon had a point about his pining.

At least if Jason rejects him, he'll be nice about it.

The insurmountable gulf between them is surmounted in but a few measly seconds—just barely long enough for Tim to get his bearings. His heart is still beating a touch too fast.

Jason looks up from his book. “Can I help you?” Tim can’t help but think he looks like a disgruntled cat. It’s cute. His expression shifts, a little, when he realizes it’s Tim. “Oh. Hey, Timmers. Need somethin’?”

Now or never. “Yeah,” he says. He grips the back of an empty chair, just to have something to do with his hands. “Do— Kon and I were planning on getting ice cream after school today. We were… wondering if you wanted to come?”

Confusion creases Jason’s brow. “That… I wouldn’t want to intrude on your date,” he says slowly.

“You wouldn’t be,” Tim says, immediately. “You— We want you there.” He pauses, and then, to clarify, adds, “On the date. ‘Cause. It’ll still be a date, if, um. If you’re okay with that.”

Jason looks at Tim. Then he looks over at Kon, who winks.

Huh.

Tim’s never seen anyone turn that shade of red before. The color paints all the way down Jason’s neck, and under the collar of his uniform. “I—“ His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. He looks nervous. Tim can relate.

He pulls the chair out with his foot, sitting. “I know it’s probably kind of sudden,” he says. “Um. You can say no, if you want to. And—um. If you need more time to think about it, that’s okay too. We can go out another day.” He pauses, the wheels of his mind spinning. “It’s not a trick, either. I promise.”

He almost holds out his pinkie, because he’s embarrassing like that, but. He manages to stop himself.

Jason’s mouth works a couple more times before he finally manages, “I’d like— Ice cream sounds good.”

Tim sinks back into his seat. His cheeks ache from his grin—he’s pretty sure he looks like an idiot, but. He doesn’t really care. “Cool,” he says.

Jason smiles back. “Cool,” he repeats, softly.

[skylarmoon71]

Winchester - (Supernatural / Smallville Crossover AU) - Chapter 20

He’s always thought that happiness was a bit out of reach for him.

While he knows he has a great life, it was always hard to fully relate with others. Given what he’s capable of, there was a part of him that understood that life would not be easy or normal. Yet when he met you, the crazy felt a bit more manageable. 

It’s still a bit strange how normal everything feels when you're together. 

Like right now. His father had asked for help with the tractor and you basically sprinted past Clark to assist. When you’d lifted the metal vehicle with one hand you just sent him a grin, wiggling your eyebrows and Clark couldn’t help but laugh. 

There really wasn’t anything more he felt like he needed in life. For once, he was truly happy and there weren't any earth altering events or tragedies.

You were just there and he was just at peace. 

Later that night he’d dropped you back to your house. You informed him that the credit cards your brother used for the place were about used up, so in a few weeks you would have to get a real job and make some real money. 

“Normal life sucks.” 

Clark laughed at your complaints as you dropped your bag on the couch. 

“I guess it’s weird sticking in one place after all the traveling you’ve done.” 

He couldn’t imagine what that was like. He hadn’t ever really left Kansas. But you’d been to just about every state, every city.

“It is a bit weird. Once I get a job I’ll start checking out apartments. Next month I’m going to see my brothers. It’s been a while. I think I’ll spend the break there.” 

Clark understood. He supposed the bunker was the only other home you’d ever known.

“Do you want to come with me? I know it might get a bit stifling.” 

The fact that nearly all of your family and friends were some kind of supernatural entity, well, stifling wasn’t exactly the word he would use. It was nice not being the only uniquely powered being for a change. 

“I’d love to come.” 

You smiled, shuffling to the fridge.

“Great, I’ll smooth it over with Mr. Kent. He likes me better anyway.” 

Clark rolled his eyes and you laughed, grabbing a drink as you slipped the cap off and took a sip. When you were done you placed the bottle down, sending him a look. 

“Don’t be jealous that I’m his favorite superhuman Clark. I think we can both agree that between the both of us I’m the more macho and muscular.” 

You flexed what little muscle you had and Clark could only smile. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” He snorted. 

“I’m serious! My powers are cooler.” 

“I think we can both agree that an alien is much cooler than an angel powered human. “ 

“Nuh uh, angel powered humans are much cooler!” 

“Really, I don’t see it.” 

“That’s because you’re an alien!” 

He was doing his best not to laugh. He’s known for a while that you’re a bit competitive. You look pretty cute with your cheeks puffed. 

Instead of the verbal back and forth, he figured it would be easier to prove his point. You blinked, and in a matter of seconds your back was pressed to the wall, his hand right at the side of you. The action had successfully silenced you. Your lips were parted, eyes staring at him in wonder and awe. 

“I’m cooler..” 

His tone was low, and you swallowed, nodding. You couldn’t get the words out and he seemed satisfied. He held your gaze for a moment, then looked down, watching the way you licked your lips. Without a second thought his lips were on yours, and you hummed, appreciative. Your hands moved to his shoulder and he pulled you flush to his body, holding you close. It always felt so good to hold you. 

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s naturally a bigger person compared to most, so he’s used to the difference on many levels. But with you, there was just a sense of comfort, like you were the same. Equals. Even if your abilities and stories were different, there was just something that you both had in common. 

You didn’t have to hide anything with each other and that’s all he ever wanted. For someone to know every single part of him and still feel the same. Look at him the way you did every time you sent a smile, or held his hand, or even bicker over your silly little competitions. It was the acceptance that he wanted, that he needed. 

He pulled back, and your head lulled forward for a moment, following him before you took a breath, pressing your forehead to his. You licked your lips again, eyes still closed. All he could do was smile. You looked so content. 

“This..This doesn’t mean you won..” 

You muttered, clearly still clouded by the kiss. 

Clark chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Whatever you say angel.” 

It was a playful jab, and you didn’t have the heart to retaliate, because he’d pulled you into another kiss and you were completely and utterly distracted. 

[digenerate-trash]

HI I just wanted to say that your art is so tasty I love seeing what you make every time you post, even if it's just lil doodles !

I adore your style and I love the way you color, especially the colors themselves,,, the way they turn out whether from the color pallet or a filter or whatever you use make them turn out really well!! they're so pretty and nice to look at aaaaaaa

I remember seeing your art for the first time a couple months ago and i immediately went 👀👀👀, mainly the style intrigued me but it was also a harper drawing and I'm obsessed with that man, jshsjsh but anyway im glad i followed you because your art of the other characters are really good too, i love your designs for them hehe. also it's fun seeing you draw in different styles and doing more ambitious (?? not sure if that's the right word) stuff! like some of the stuff you make blows me away like "holy shit" jzhjahaka- it's been a hot minute since ive properly lurked on ur blog again but what i have in mind is like the clove drawing with all the different versions, like that was dope kshsksn

anyway, I'm rambling. just wanted to say thank you for feeding us with your lovely art and I hope you have a good day/night, depending when you read this

Dude you have no idea what a hellish week this has been and I'm so happy to get a response like this! I'm glad you like my art- the truth is I struggle with consistency and digital stuff but it's always so encouraging to have someone send you stuff like this (Most of my anonymous asks are usually just slurs)

But it was so sweet of you to reach out like this and I super appreciate it! I love engaging with people on here it's a fun community and it's always nice to receive any public feedback!!

I'm just so happy bro I'm gonna go cry for a bit but thank you so much bb!!!! (///ω///)

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts days 35, 36

From this prompt list. If you've read this far, I'm not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn't written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here

Days 32-34 here

***

44. "You're really messing with my head here."

***

A week later, Tim remembered to check the scheduling program and tweak the frequency of assignments for Damian. When he reviewed the results a week after that, he was half-surprised, half-resigned to see that Damian had manually revised his availability to be more frequent than ever. Oh, well. His work wasn’t noticeably suffering on either the civilian or vigilante front, so Tim supposed he didn’t have a right to talk to him about it.

He did switch things up a little, just to stretch out of his usual patrol territory and keep from getting bored. Damian somehow always being on the opposite end of the city wasn’t an intentional side effect, but given the givens of their hook-ups, it probably wasn’t a bad thing either.

A month after the last time they slept together, Tim’s phone buzzed at 2 AM with a message from Damian. Are you at home? I want to discuss some new information on the case with you.

Tim, busy putting together a spreadsheet comparing weapons distribution epicenters in various cities with local businesses that had suspiciously healthy bottom lines, frowned at the text. just send it over i’m busy working on another lead rn

No answer for five minutes, so he followed up with and we can text about it then if its urgent

Another five minutes, and he had nearly forgotten they’d begun the conversation, but then his phone vibrated again. Very well. I will share the file with you as soon as I’m sure it has all the relevant information.

Tim replied, thx, and got back to work. 

They were able to turn the entire case over to the CBI within a few days after that, which was pretty satisfying.

A few weeks later, a sudden buzz of conversation that started at the elevators on the R&D floor of WE and slowly spread to Tim’s desk had him surreptitiously raising his head above the divider to behold Damian navigating the bullpen. Tim’s heart jumped into his throat at the sight of him gliding through the cubicles. Even fluorescent lights couldn’t make Damian less handsome. He looked like a panther released into a lab rat’s maze. 

Damian drew to a halt at his cubicle and said, “Drake. A moment?”

“I thought they were brothers,” Tim heard someone whisper. The person they were talking to shushed them.

“Sure,” he replied, and followed Damian to one of the rarely-used conference rooms.

Damian shut the door behind them and then frowned as he truly looked at Tim’s face for the first time. “The circles under your eyes are darker than usual.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Damian, it’s nice to see you too. The mission with Kon went great, and I just got back a couple nights ago. Appreciate you checking in.” He was tired, though, so he leaned on the table before asking, “Did you come all the way from Finance just to give me the bad news about my appearance?”

“No.” Damian shook his head. “Father and Todd had an argument last night after Father interfered with one of Todd’s interrogations. They both had already taken gunfire due to Father’s intervention. Accusations were exchanged, and now Father is, not to put too fine a point on it, sulking.”

Tim sighed and rubbed his temples, fighting off a sudden headache. Bruce and Jason acting like gigantic children together was hardly a reason to interrupt his work. “So what else is new?”

“Father had already planned a trip to a planet that will require four weeks of space travel to reach before their altercation. He’s not at his best after last night, either mentally or physically. I don’t believe Todd truly expected to affect him, but Father is self-flagellating nonetheless, not to mention the bullet wound.”

“Goddammit.” Tim rubbed his temples harder like the pressure would dam up the pain. As far as he could tell, in Jason’s brain, Bruce was Zeus and Satan and Orion all in one body—the notion of him being vulnerable didn’t seem to register. “Fucking great. Okay, what’s the plan? What do you want me to do?”

“Go talk to Father. Persuade him to put off the trip. If he believes you don’t know about his argument with Todd, he might be more susceptible to the suggestion.”

Tim slid off the table to his feet. “Is he in today?”

“No, he’s at the Manor. He’s planning to leave tonight, so speed is essential.”

“Got it.” Tim made to walk past Damian to the door, but Damian reached for his elbow in a light grip, pulling him closer.

“Drake. Are you truly well?” His eyes searched Tim’s face as if he were investigating a crime scene.

The Oud-Al-Janaid Damian always wore surrounded them both in a subtle cloud of fragrance. Tim swallowed, fighting down the Pavlovian urge to press his face to Damian’s neck, chasing the scent to its source. His dick started to take notice of the provocation.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” he remembered to say. “Just tired, is all. Nothing new about that.” He waited, but Damian didn’t move. “You need anything else?”

Damian didn’t start, but the way he dropped Tim’s elbow had the same air. “No. You should leave without delay.” He stalked from the room, not waiting for a reply.

Tim went straight from the conference room to the parking garage and headed for the Manor. He found Bruce in his room, grimly putting together his travel supplies while moving with more deliberation than usual. Bruising extended from beneath his sleeve across the back of his right hand, and finger-shaped welts blazed across the front of his neck. He looked up when Tim stood in the doorway. 

“Tim.” He set some socks on top of the pile of underwear. “I haven’t seen you since you got back.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.” Tim leaned against the door jamb. “Damian mentioned you’re going off-planet for a while?”

“Hn.” Bruce turned away and kept moving clothes into his suitcase. 

“Do you have to go?” Tim took care to keep his tone light. “Seems like there’s a lot going on here on this planet, and in our city, that could use you.”

Bruce sighed. “It’s a solo mission, or at least it's solo travel until I meet some of the Lanterns out there. Not many of the Justice League are suited to three months in space with the majority of it spent alone. They’re . . . social.”

“Hmm.” Tim straightened up to walk closer. “Hey, why are you moving like that? Did you get injured?”

“Yes.” Bruce still didn’t pause, or at least he didn’t till Tim stood between him and the bed where his suitcase lay open. “Tim.”

“Bruce,” Tim mimicked him. “Someone else can be lonely for three months. Someone who isn’t moving like he can’t find his Bengay.”

“Sitting still in a ship—" Bruce began.

“Isn’t recovery,” Tim finished. “Injuries can be exacerbated by weird space shit, you know that as well as I do because you taught me that. Why are you so essential to this trip?”

Bruce stared at him, silent, for a long moment, the muscle in his jaw working. Finally, he sighed. “It’s about Colu.”

“Wasn’t it blown up?” Tim asked.

“Essentially, yes. But there are refugees, as well, and there are associated problems the Justice League let go unaddressed that need to be resolved in a neighboring star system’s single liveable planet.” 

Tim stared at him, then shook his head in what he wished was disbelief. “This is about you still feeling guilty about breaking the Source Wall, isn't it.” Bruce, predictably, made no answer. “Fine. What’s the name of the planet?”

Bruce picked up his tablet from the nightstand, tapped it a few times, and handed it to Tim. “You can’t pronounce it without a bisected tongue. See for yourself.”

Tim scanned through the information rapidly, then looked up. “I can handle this.”

Bruce frowned. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m volunteering.” Tim set the tablet down on the nightstand again. “Getting off-planet for a while isn’t the worst thing I could do, as long as you don’t think it’ll leave the patrol rotation too skimpy.”

“That won’t be an issue, no.” Bruce seemed to be struggling with words he didn’t want to speak, but in the end he won. “I know you’re capable of carrying out the mission. You’ll have to leave tonight to make it there in time.”

“No problem. I’ll go home and pack and be back in an hour.” Tim headed for the stairs without waiting for Bruce’s reply, pulling out his phone as he went. Opening his thread with Damian, he texted, mission accomplished hes not going

Damian liked the message just before Tim climbed back into his car. True to his word, Tim was back and ready to fly to the Watchtower to catch his ride within an hour.

His phone vibrated again while he was doing the mission precheck of the cockpit. Damian’s name popped up on the screen. Tim opened the message to read, Todd refuses to come to the Manor, naturally, so we must meet at your apartment to discuss our next steps.

Tim’s mouth twisted as a pang of guilt bounced around his ribcage. He was running out in the middle of the drama and leaving Damian to deal with it, which was shitty of him, but in this case he had to choose saving Bruce from himself rather than helping Damian. 

sorry i wont be back for a while gotta take care of some aliens

He launched from the docking bay, and away from cell signals, before Damian’s reply could come through. Assuming there would’ve been one.

After he passed Uranus, he uploaded the Arabic course he'd bought to pass the time and got started. Improving his fluency wouldn't be a bad idea.

The trip took a little longer than expected, and was far more tedious than Bruce had led him to expect. Tim nearly cried in relief when he was finally able to type Earth’s coordinates into the navigation system. 

His dreams on the way home were populated by everyday moments with the rest of the family, half-remembered interactions set to a nonsensical narrative. Sparring with Steph, meeting Cass and Duke for ice cream, crashing with Bruce through a skylight into some goons’ heads.

Kissing the back of Damian’s hand while Damian fucked him, his weight pressing Tim into the mattress. Ant euyuni, whispered hot against his skin, tender with affection, but this time he knew what the words meant.

Tim woke up with Damian’s murmured “Drake” still in his ears and his hand already on his cock. He stroked his way to a confused orgasm moments later and stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded, until the proximity alarm forced him to clean up the cooling mess on his belly and get up.

Dick had texted him regularly during his absence, a fact he discovered as soon as he got in range of Earth satellites and started receiving messages on his cell again. Most of them were better be ready to get whipped back into shape with me after all that space muscle atrophy type of things, or the mid-air selfies he knew made Tim laugh. One, however, was a picture of Damian giving the camera a direct look while seated behind a cake blazing with what Tim assumed was twenty-one candles. The message with it just said birthday boy—don't forget to wish him a happy belated when you get back, which was Dick being Extra Big Brother since he knew Tim tended to forget basic social niceties like that.

Tim rubbed the ache in his chest absentmindedly with the heel of his hand as he scrolled down farther. He needed to check the oxygen monitors and then his heart rate, make sure there wasn't anything seriously wrong, but the pain was probably just due to the lack of aerobic exercise since he'd been on the ship.

Kon's text tone was sounding regularly as the phone loaded more of the messages he'd missed. Reaching the bottom of Dick's thread, Tim tapped onto Kon's instead. The first message he saw was a picture of Jon, arms wrapped around Damian from behind as they both hovered mid-air in costume. Jon was planting a kiss on Damian's cheek while a tiny smile that Tim knew was involuntary curved Damian's mouth up. Kon had screencapped Buzzfeed's coverage of the picture, as witness the bolded headline below: "Why This Pic of Superman and the Artist Formerly Known as Robin Broke the Internet Today." 

Kon had sent the screencap accompanied by a gif of Damian in his baby Robin days that had been a meme for five minutes, swinging his katana and screaming in silent rage while the caption read "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK."

Looked like Damian had left the Robin mantle behind once and for all. And that Jon and Jay might have called it quits. Or maybe their relationship was open.

Tim frowned. The chest pain was getting worse and now his throat felt like it was closing up. Some sort of anaphylactic reaction, maybe? Hopefully not. He moved to the tiny medical bay and ran a quick diagnostic, but nothing of concern popped up. Well, he was almost ready to dock with the Watchtower, so he could get checked out there. He texted back, jon has literally wanted to kiss damian since b4 he even knew he was bi, why are u showing me this????

Steph had texted him a lot, too, mostly selfies with various Gotham clusterfucks in the background while she threw up ironic peace signs in costume, and a few of her and Cass looking like they were literally trying to meld into one person. He hearted a bunch of the pictures just to let her know he was back.

Bruce had sent a couple of messages, the last one reading Let me know as soon as you're back on-planet. Your absence is felt on patrol, which was as close as he'd get to admitting he missed having Tim around.

There was one message from Jason. Hey. Lmk when you're back. I've got an update on some loose ends from the weapons trafficking case.

A beep from the cockpit told him the Watchtower's automated systems were trying to make friends with Tim's ship controls. He got them re-acquainted and then headed to the single berth to get his bag as the autopilot docked him.

Once he'd returned to the surface, Earth's gravity grabbed his bones and held them like an internal vise. He swayed a little on his feet as he walked to his car from the base, wishing he'd thought to bring a wheeled suitcase instead of his gear bags. He sat behind the wheel and turned on the engine, but took a second to text Jason back before he put the car into gear. He'd thought they'd wrapped up the weapons trafficking group with a neat and pretty bow for the CBI. Hearing they'd left some loose ends dangling chafed his pride.

Kon called him by the time he'd hit the highway. "Dude, welcome back! I missed your skinny ass."

Tim grinned. Normally he avoided voice calls like a death sentence, but for Kon it was worth making the exception. "How're things?"

"Pretty good. I'm hanging out with M'gann in a few but I wanted to say hi. You've been gone forever. I hope you worked out whatever was eating you so you can stick around for a while."

Tim shrugged even though of course Kon couldn't see it. "Nothing was eating me. I just like to keep busy now that I'm not working at WE as anything but a contractor anymore."

"Bullshit. Something happened. I know the regular Tim Drake flavors of overwork and this one was Overwork Plus, Bonus Angst Edition. But hey, I know sharing what you're thinking and feeling is really high up there on the Things You Like to Do list, right below root canals, so I'll drop it before you turn back around and head for Mars."

Tim's stomach clenched with pain. "Yeah, yeah, you know I really wanna bare my soul when I've been back on the planet five whole minutes, but right now I'm starving so I'm looking for the nearest Big Belly drive thru. Will you be at the tower anytime soon?"

They set up a time to meet up the following weekend, and then Tim hung up so he could order. Once he got the food, though, he picked at the fries in a desultory fashion, the cramping in his stomach not doing much to spur his appetite for some reason.

A text notification from Jason popped up on the car's screen. Tim tapped the bubble, keeping one eye on the road. The uninflected AI voice announced, "In the group with you and Damian, Jason wrote: We've got a problem. The remnants of the weapons-running org revamped itself and merged with another, smaller operation. They've got new contraband now and it's human. Would you like to reply?"

Tim's veins abruptly felt as though they'd been injected with ice water, and he couldn't decide if it was because of the message itself or because Damian was included on the thread. "No," he breathed.

"Okay," the AI responded.

It was just that it would be awkward. To have their first real interaction after Tim being gone for so long happen over text. He'd done a good job of avoiding thinking about it during his trip and now Jason had . . . texted them both. Like it was nothing.

Because it was nothing. As far as Jason knew, they were fine.

Actually, he was right, Tim reminded himself. He and Damian were fine. It wasn't like they'd had some sort of argument. They’d made their limits clear before they'd ever started and Damian had respected Tim’s so thoroughly that he’d barely had a real conversation with him since he'd thanked Tim for an educational experience.

Tim suddenly found himself wondering exactly in what areas he'd educated Damian besides the obvious.

While he'd been trying to talk himself down from the metaphorical rafters, Damian had responded in the thread. Tim tapped the screen again. "In the group with Jason, Damian wrote: This can't be allowed to continue. I've noticed an uptick in the human trafficking at the harbor. We can collaborate upon my return to Gotham tonight. Would you like to reply?"

Tim set his jaw. "Sure."

"What would you like to say?"

"I'm on my way to the Nest right now. Do you guys want to meet there later?"

"Your message reads—" Tim hit the Send button before the playback could continue. "Sent."

Within seconds, Jason texted back, "Sounds good."

Damian's reply took a little longer, but when it came through, it read, "Acceptable."

It was only when he heard the words that Tim realized he'd expected Damian to refuse. He reached to tap the cancel button onscreen. The AI responded but he wasn't paying attention. "You're really messing with my head here," he muttered, which was probably unfair.

"Your message reads: You're really messing with my head here. Send it now?"

He'd hit "reply" instead of "cancel." "No."

day thirty-seven here

[leedongwook]

-> re: reblogging issue convo

Thank you for the kind answer, as always. I hope you get all the reblogs and more people support your work, you really deserve it! 🩷

I'm one of the "old bloggers" too, been around here for 15 years and just turned 30 last month 🥳 and you're right, could be the age why we dont understand the conceptual change 😭😂

I'm also pretty sure we both have the same idea of tumblr and how to use it respectfully and politely, so as to not make this ask even longer, I'll skip it if that's ok?

The thing is, some content creators I follow occasionally post rants and warnings about not wanting any opinions in the hashtags, comments, any text added to their gif sets, positive thoughts included. It's not that I've ever received a msg directly, but I do feel like I'm being yelled at too in those rants because I type things like "this is so gorgeous and I love that character so much" in the tags.

I definitely don't reblog as much as before and tbh don't even want to anymore. That, however, doesn't include your work, which I often reblog without thinking twice. So thank you, for everything you're doing here. Wishing you a nice week 🫶🏻🩷☀️🌺

I am so happy to see you back, I was worried my answers were maybe a bit too direct and harsh. Thank you for your kind words and wishes, I appreciate it 💕 We are the "oldies" on here huh :) yeah I think we both know the true Tumblr etiquette and how to blog the right way (I wish some more people had that common sense again duh!)

Oh, I see what you mean now. I think I've said it in one of my asks, how much we love to read other people's thoughts and opinions (= you screaming about how much you love the character/person or show or scene or whatever in the gifset) on our gifsets/content. So please always reblog stuff and yell about how much you love it, it's the best thing to see :) I know some content creators don't like when people add stuff to their gifset in the comment section and not in the tags. So it changes the layout/style of the original post a bit. I don't mind if people add their thoughts in the comments section and it's defo no reason to send hate to other bloggers.

What I personally dislike tho is, when people reblog my gifset and add negative tags to it (like I fuckn hate this show, or the character sucks). Why reblog something you don't like, that makes no sense to me. That's actually the only reason I don't like people reblogging my gifs. Thankfully most of the reblogs I get are lovely and happy reblogs which makes me happy too :)

Anyway, I think I got what you mean and I think you also understand my points. Thanks for talking about this and clearing things up. I get why it's a bit discouraging for you to reblog stuff, no one wants to get hate and no one should get hate, ever. I do hope your Tumblr experience will get better and you can enjoy reblogging again.

Thank you for supporting my work and for reblogging my stuff, it means a lot to me. All the best to you and have a wonderful week 😘