#anyway whatever.. rolling over and going back to sleep. i hope i have a better day at work today regardless

[emptymanuscript]

I feel like one of the most important distinctions you can make is between the personal and the public.

There are things I want, personally, that I should not have because of the negative consequences.

When I am hurt, I want to hit back. This is totally acceptable as a personal feeling. It is not acceptable as a public policy. The monopoly of violence SHOULD belong to the state so that it can’t be used for personal advantage. There’s nothing preventing me in my rage from hitting back infinitely harder than whatever hurt was done to me. An interested party who is operating on pure emotional reactivity is the person least qualified to make the fairest decision. Turning that power over to a bureaucracy is the surest way to make the decision as neutral as it can be because it will move through a process that can’t feel emotions.

I, personally, absolutely want to get a rocket launcher and shoot it through the front door of the Fox news building. Just burn it all. They all fucking deserve to die, down to the cockroaches in the walls for being willing to live with them.

I, as a matter of public policy, absolutely believe that it is the duty of the law and society to protect the people at Fox from ME and my desires. I not only should not be allowed, I should be (and am, for anyone worried) actively prevented from taking any steps toward that desire.

Maturity and civilization both depend on the personal sacrifice of one’s own immediate desires for the sake of a larger and longer term good. Just because I want it doesn’t mean I should have it. It is instead requisite for me to think about the larger implications of fulfilling my desires.

And this can be damn basic. When I first wake up in the morning, I don’t want to get out of bed, feed myself, do all that basic life stuff. I want someone to bring everything to me and make it easy for me. Assuming I don’t just want to go back to sleep. But think about that from a public policy standpoint. That right there is the basis for slavery. So, no, even that very basic and natural desire should not be allowed to grow beyond that tiny little ennui in my heart. I should picture a very tiny violin and get going.

Frankly, personally, I hope every single Trump supporter experiences intense and personal betrayal, suffering until they literally pray to take their vote back because they have suffered so much. And then they should die anyway. Painfully. Pathetically. While I laugh at them. Until the American People reverse the election in sheer desperation for mercy.

And, as a matter of public policy, I know that is not ok. None of it. I’m not ok with the another political faction doing it. And the rules can’t change depending on which political faction is in power, otherwise they aren’t rules. Otherwise no one is ever safer or better off than how we treat the worst person because it’s only the matter of a vote to put someone else in that position.

There, but for a different electoral outcome, go I.

The first link of the chain binds everyone because we CANNOT control the chain.

In some ideal dream world, I would be perfectly in charge of everything and it would go exactly how I want and I could have every little desire AND make sure it didn’t run away from me and have everything prove I was perfectly correct about all my opinions and they would build statues to me because I was such a great and beloved overlord.

And pretty much the exact opposite of that is what you should expect from the real world.

It is NEVER you.

I will NEVER be the sole person in charge pulling all the strings.

No one is EVER the sole person in charge pulling all the strings.

Even absolute dictators have to deal with other powerful people. That’s literally the history of our democratic lineage. Enough powerful nobles forced an absolute monarch to cede them rights in writing for all time and that started the ball rolling to where we are, which none of them anticipated and they wouldn’t be ok with it.

It’s NEVER you. You cannot force the world to live up to your desires. You are ALWAYS in negotiation with everything else.

So you are NEVER safe from or immune to the public policies you press for.

You HAVE to fight for public policies to treat the very worst person with the minimum dignity and respect you feel you should be entitled to because you are NEVER more than a simple redefinition to being the very worst person. The people you love are NEVER more than one rash decision or accident away from suffering all the consequences you want to inflict on those you hate.

Public Policy NEEDS to be us checking our ego at the door and pushing for better than our best selves. Because public policy can enact the vicious impulses of our worst selves with infinitely greater power and horror.

Even for those you HATE, it is all too easy to see atrocities out of your nightmares play out in front of you while you pray to take it back because you didn’t mean THIS. This is too awful. This is inhuman. Because yes, it is. Public Policy isn’t human. It is emergent. And you CANNOT control the emergent properties. You cannot hold back its worst impulses because they’re not just yours.

The best you can do is try to give it all your most reasoned and generous mercy. All you can do is try and peel your pettiness and passions out of that inhuman clockwork in the hope that it won’t devour people if you don’t give it that directive.

Does that mean we can’t feel anger and hatred and fear and all those emotions?

That’s not how being human works. You could try and repress them but then it’ll just squeeze out somewhere else. No. You get all that. You get to feel it. You get to process it. You get to use it to make PERSONAL decisions.

I’m a Jew and I am officially saying, as far as I am concerned for myself, you can think of me as a Kike, think I am going to hell, block me, ignore me, refuse to use my business. You can throw the Musk gesture. You can say that the world would be better off without me because the Jews are evil and drink the blood of babies. You will have to live with me hating you back but that’s fine as a personal interaction. We don’t have to like each other. We can live together AND hate each other AND have it still function.

The COST for having all three of those things at once is that you still have to fight for my rights and protections in the public square and I still have to fight for yours. We both have to push for Public Policy to protect the other because we can’t predict who will end up where. Yes, in a perfectly just world, I firmly believe the Nazi would get the worst treatment. But we don’t live in a perfect world. And history has shown that it is frequently the worst people on top instead of on the bottom.

So it’s gotta go the other way, too. It’s NEVER you on top. But it jolly well can be the people you hate pulling the levers to put you on the bottom. So you have to check the power of the dictator because you can’t control who it will be for the same reason you have to protect the rights of the villains. Because it’s just one switch away from all the weapons you gave yourself from being turned on you.

Feel what you feel. But advocate for better. Or you are living on borrowed time.

I do actually care marginally about the guy in that reddit screenshot who voted for Trump and is now worried that he might lose his medicaid funding because I did not fucking stutter when I said healthcare is a human right but the people losing their internships and job offers to the hiring freeze are straight up hilarious.

[phagodyke]

ik its 4am I just woke up but I can't believe my roommate got upset with me bc she thought I thought she was "anti feminist" for shaving. girl I literally never fucking said that. sorry I was incessantly bullied by strangers friends and family for not shaving as a teen and so body hair positivity is important to me + sorry I like body hair on myself and other ppl and have explicitly said I find it attractive before. I don't care that u shave but I'm not going to clap and cheer abt it? ur already fulfilling societal expectations so why do u need my approval on top of that? its such a non issue like how the fuck is a masc dyke making u feel insecure abt ur cis femininity lmao

[lowkeyerror]

Basically My Boyfriend

Jennifer Check x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Notes: Reuqested, friends to lovers, smut, fingering, cunnulingus, virgin!reader

Summary: It’s a Friday night and Y/n and Needy are spending it bored in Jennifer’s room. When Needy mentions she passed on date night for it, Jennifer and Y/n push her to go. This leaves Jennifer and Y/n alone for the night, and something that started as a joke between the two quickly transforms into something more.

An: First request in forever hope its alright 🫣

Etc. Masterlist | More Jennifer Check

For being a girl as popular as she was, it was assumed that Jennifer Check would have more friends than she would know what to do with. Even despite her bitchy attitude, the attention she garnered from her looks alone was good enough reason to want to be around her. The thing is that Jennifer wasn’t stupid she knew that people would use her to gain social standing. It’s part of the reason that Jennifer didn’t really “do” friends.

The people that were close to her had been close to her for as long as anyone could remember. Needy and Y/n were the only real friends that Jennifer had. She liked it that way.

Jennifer didn’t need to explain herself to the pair, she didn’t need to dumb herself down, and she didn’t have to pretend to be nice. She could just be herself, which was seeming like more of a luxury these days.

“Jen, hello? Earth to Jennifer Check, where’d you go? I think we lost her Annie,” Y/n was waving her hand in front of the brunette’s face, while talking to the blonde at her side.

The three of them were piled into Jennifer’s room, on a Friday night.

Jennifer’s back hit the bed, “I’m so bored, we should’ve went to the bar tonight, I heard Low Shoulder was going to be there.”

“Not a chance. Annie and I would’ve been miserable while we watched you go play groupie to those losers,” Y/n follows suit lying flat on the bed.

“Needy knows how to party, besides she could’ve brought her boy toy.”

Needy rolls her eyes, but lays on the bed too, “You know I don’t like it when you call him that.”

“Precisely why I do it Anita,” Jennifer comments.

Needy lets out a sigh, “You know I canceled a date for this and he was really cool about it.”

Jen and Y/n sit up at the same time and say, “You what?”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It’s only 8, you have time. Tell him to come pick you up,” Y/n says looking at the blonde.

“But I already told my mom I was sleeping over,” Needy whines.

Jennifer gives the girl some words of encouragement, “You are going to sleep over… just at Chip’s. Now call your boy toy, first tell him to thank us, and then tell him that you should see a movie tonight.”

Just as the pair instructed Needy calls her boyfriend and he says that he's on his way.

“Are you guys sure you’re ok with me bailing?”

Y/n nods, “Go get laid, Annie. One of us deserves to tonight.”

She shoves your shoulder, “ Shut up you’re starting to sound too much like Jen.”

The dark-haired girl laughed, “Well you didn’t say she was wrong.”

Whatever snarky remark Needy was going to say dies as her phone rings. Chip is outside waiting for her.

“Remember, if he doesn’t give head, he’s better off dead,” Jennifer says as she pushes Needy out of the house.

“Meet us for breakfast tomorrow, the usual spot?” Y/n suggests and Needy nods.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

Jennifer and Y/n wave to her as Chip drives off in the direction of the movie theater.

“And then there were two,” Y/n says.

“You’re such a predictable nerd, I knew you would say that,” now it’s Jennifer rolling her eyes at you.

“Hey, need I remind you that you picked this predictable nerd to be one of your two friends. The other which is almost the same predictable nerd,” Y/n says as they walk back up the stairs.

Jen scoffs, “You’re nothing like Needy. For starters she’s with her boyfriend tonight, while you’re here with me.”

Y/n is quick to counter, “You’re basically my boyfriend anyway.”

“Oh am I?”

Y/n nods as they re-enter Jennifer’s room, “Yup.”

“And what could have possibly led you to this conclusion?”

Y/n jumps into Jen’s bed, “Well it’s Friday night and you have me in your bed.”

“You haven't heard of a hookup?”

Y/n closes her eyes briefly, “You like me too much for it just to be a hookup.”

Jen doesn't respond, instead she lets her eyes roam Y/n's figure. She’d be lying if she said the thought hadn’t crossed her mind once or twice. Y/n was in a way, exactly her type. Maybe a little more dorky than She'd usually go for, but Jen thought Y/n’s loser tendencies were endearing.

So, as she found herself alone with girl on a Friday night, no Needy, and no parents; she thought she'd try something.

Jennifer climbs onto the bed and straddles Y/n’s waist. The weight on her, made the girl open her eyes. She was slightly startled as she looked up at Jennifer.

“Maybe you’re right, definitely wouldn't call you a random hookup,” Jennifer’s face took on a look that Y/n had only seen her give other people.

Particularly boys that Jennifer would spend random nights with.

“What’re you doing ?”

Jennifer flips her head to the side, “We’ve known each other a long time, right Y/n?”

“Right,” the girl beneath her speaks breathlessly

“Have I ever told you how hot I think you are?”

Her hands reach for Y/n’s, guiding then to sit first on her thighs before sliding them up to her hips.

“Jen,” Y/n audibly gulps.

The dark-haired girl, giggles before rolling her hips down on Y/n. The dorky girl’s hands tighten their grip on Jennifer’s waist.

“Fuck Y/n, don't you want me?”

“Jennifer,” Y/n says more firmly this time.

Jennifer rolls her hips again, “You’re really going to make spell it out for you, aren’t you? You know, I like you right dingus, I've wanted you for a while now. You’re a dork, but I want you to be my dork.”

“This can't be real?” Y/n’s confusion peaks through.

“Let me show you how real it is, Y/n,” Jennifer’s look becomes less predatory and more desperate.

Y/n’s face began to heat up, “Jen I haven’t-”

“I can teach you,” she speaks gently, her hand caressing Y/n’s face.

“Promise me this isn’t just a hookup or some fucked up game you’re playing with me,” Y/n’s insecurities poke at her.

Jennifer leans down, so she is mere inches away from the other girl. Her hair falls, tickling Y/n’s face. Her eyes are softer than Y/n had ever seen as their breath mingles together.

“I like you, genuinely; no bullshit. We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want-”

Y/n kisses her in the middle of speaking. It’s delicate and airy. A type of kiss that Jennifer isn’t used too. It takes the wind out of her.

“Be gentle with me Jen,” Y/n whispers against her lips.

She nods, “I’m going to worship you.”

Y/n feels her face heat even more. Jennifer connects their lips again. She holds back on the ferocity, but let’s the passion shining through the kiss. The sound of their lips colliding with each other and their shallow breaths made the room feel ten times hotter.

Y/n’s hand subconsciously left Jennifer’s waist to slink up and under her shirt. The skin there was cooler than she expected. Her touch was light but became even lighter as her hands skimmed over Jennifer’s bra.

Jennifer sits up breaking the kiss causing the girl beneath her to whine. Jen laughs at the sound before pulling her shirt over her head. Y/n’s eyes dilate at the sight of her abdomen. A small smirk tugs at Jennifer’s lips upon seeing Y/n’s reaction.

Her bra comes off next. Y/n’s eyes scale up Jennifer’s figure , lingering at her now exposed chest. As if she’s testing the waters the Y/n sits up. She keeps eye contact with Jennifer as she takes one of the more experienced girl’s nipples in her mouth.

She sucks lightly, closing her eyes as she runs her tongue across the stiff peak. Jen moans at the sensation nearly cradling the girl’s head further into her chest.

“Can I see you baby?” Jennifer says through her teeth, her free hand gripping the waistband of Y/n’s pants.

Y/n doesn’t answer her immediately, needing to give the other nipple the same attention as the first. She then trails hot open mouth kisses from Jennifer’s breast up to her neck stopping to whisper in the girl’s ear.

“Take it off.”

Jennifer doesn’t need to be told twice as she carefully removes Y/n’s shirt and pants as well. She pushes the girl to lay flat against the bed again. This time instead of straddling her waist, Jen stays near the foot of the bed, spreading Y/n’s legs open.

“You’re so wet for me already,” Jennifer sees the dampness through the other girl’s underwear.

She kisses up Y/n’s thighs, tentatively. She keeps eye contact as she gets closer and close to the Y/n’s cunt. Jennifer places some teasing kisses on Y/n’s clothed pussy, causing the girl to squirm.

“Can I-"

“Please,” Y/n begs before Jennifer even finished the sentence.

Her hip lift, encouraging Jennifer to take them off. Jennifer obliges sliding the soaked panties down Y/n’s legs.

“Fuck.”

The sight alone was enough to cause Jennifer to lose her composure. She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't hesitate to dive her face into Y/n’s pussy.

“Holy shit,” Y/n almost sits up as Jennifer’s tongue swirls around her clit.

Jennifer’s tongues moves fluidly through Y/n’s folds. Playfully going back and forth between teasing the entrance and sucking on the clit.

Jennifer vibrates with pleasure as your taste coats her mouth making her dizzy.

“You taste so good baby, can I put a finger in? I promise you’ll like it.”

Sweat covers Y/n’s forehead as she nods, “Fuck me.”

Jennifer slinks up Y/n’s body to connect their lips. Y/n almost cums as she tastes herself on Jennifer’s lips. This kiss is sloppier than the rest they shared but neither girl cared. The feeling was intoxicating.

While they kiss Jennifer slips her middle finger inside of Y/n. The girl mewls into Jennifer’s mouth. The dark-haired girl groans at how tight Y/n is around her finger. She could already feel the walls pulsating trying to pull her finger deeper inside.

“You’re so tight Y/n, have you even fingered yourself? Feels like I’m the first thing in here, fuck. I can’t wait to stretch you out, fill you up with a fat plastic cock. Have you moaning my name.”

“I haven’t Jen, I haven’t had anything but your finger inside of me. Fuck, add another, stretch me. I want to be good for you, Jennifer,” Y/n whines trying to gain for friction.

Jennifer listens to the girl and slowly pushes in another finger, she can feel Y/n twitching around her.

“Be a good girl and cum on my fingers,” Jennifer ‘s thumb begins to rub circles on Y/n’s clit.

Y/n falls over the edge, nails digging into Jennifer’s back as the only thing she could say was Jennifer’s name, over and over again.

Jennifer is carefully to bring Y/n down from her climax, not wishing to overstimulate her now. When she feels enough time has last, she removes her fingers from inside the girl.

She holds Y/n’s tired stare as she sucks the juices off of her fingers.

“Kiss me,” Y/n reaches for Jennifer, pulling her bavk down into a kiss.

“Addicting, isn’t it?” Jennifer pecks your lips again.

“Let me return the favor,” Y/n mumbles.

Jennifer can tell the girl is exhausted from her own orgasm. Though she would love nothing more than to have Y/n please her, she feels like it would be taken advantage of the girl.

Jennifer shakes her head, “Maybe later, let’s get you cleaned up first.”

Y/n goes to protest, but Jennifer’s soft gaze on her, stopped any rebuttal.

After a quick shower both girls were back in the bed this time clean. They laid facing each other, their hands interlocked. It was Y/n who ended up pulling Jennifer into her grasp.

“I didn’t know you could be so… sweet,” you tell her truthfully.

Jennifer rolls her eyes, trying to distract Y/n from the blush that was building on her face, “You’re such a dork.”

“I think we already established that already. What we haven’t established is when you’re taking me out?”

Jennifer scoffs, “Why do I have to take you out? You could ask me out you know.”

Y/n shakes her head, “Nope, you’re the boyfriend. So you’ve got to ask me out.”

Jennifer huffs in faux-annoyance, “Fine, I’ll ask you out, but you’re explaining it to Needy.”

Y/n pecks her lips again, “Deal.”

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons - Part 10

WC: 817, Masterpost

Jason sighed as the tablet in his hands flashed with alerts. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“How did the meeting with Black Bat go?” Bruce asked instead of responding, because of course he did.

“You know it went fine,” Jason said, trying not to snap. “Besides, everyone likes her, there was a good chance it was always going to go fine.”

“We both know trauma isn’t always that easy,” Bruce said, his tone carefully modulated to be gentle. It rankled Jason, like it always did.

Jason took a breath and let his chin drop to his chest for a moment. Bruce didn’t mean it like that. He knew that now. This was Bruce trying as best as he was able— it wasn’t just another mask. Bruce just had to put effort into emotions that made it seem forced. Jason pushed away his flair of temper; it was harder to do than he’d like after too much worry and too little sleep.

“Ja—”

“I’m fine. It’s just like you said, trauma isn’t always that easy. I’m fine,” Jason said as he waved the concern away. “And names. You know we’re sticking to code names still.”

Bruce tilted his head, observing Jason through the white lenses. (That used to rankle too.)

“You thinking there’s a chance he’ll run.”

Jason sighed. He gave an exaggerated shrug to cover the worry that ran through him at the question. “Not run, exactly. I think he doesn’t believe that he can stay— that it’s even on the table. I think that we’re his last hope and he doesn’t believe in hope anymore.”

Bruce didn’t move. Jason gave him time to think that over.

“That’s why he doesn’t want to see… Wayne,” Bruce said, slowly, like he was feeling the idea out. “He doesn’t expect to get anything from him so it’s better to be healed up first.”

Jason shrugged again.

“Figure so. But also once that meeting happens, whatever happens, then all of this,” Jason motioned to the safe house, “is over as far as he knows. If he puts off the meeting, he puts off the risk of losing the first safety that I think he’s hand in a long, long time.”

Bruce’s shoulders hunched and he almost blended back into the shadows by the window. “If he’s already posed for it to go badly…”

“B, that’s not your fault,” Jason said— had to say. “The kid’s been through hell, maybe by his own family, of course he’s going to expect the worst.”

It was a long moment and then Bruce nodded, just once. “What’s the plan?”

If Jason really had his way, the plan would be to deal with all these ill feelings, but that’s not what anyone in the family was good at, him included. It would be what it would be.

“We’ll have BB over again for a meal tomorrow. I’m sure it will keep going well and she can help be on watch that night. We think it’s best to give that a few days before we introduce O or anyone else new, so you have to keep the rest of the horde reigned in,” Jason said pointedly. Then a though occurred to him. “Where is the little spawn anyways?”

“He’s on the roof across the block.”

“Yeah, is he? Because that was a lot of alerts—”

“Hood!”

Jason didn’t think before he was striding across the room towards Danny’s room. The kid was standing in the door. White hair stark in the low light. Green eyes bright.

Glowing.

Wide with fear.

“Danny?”

“Someone else is here,” Danny said. His voice was almost too quiet to hear, but Jason could half swear he felt it in his very bones. Danny reached out and clung onto the sleeve of Jason’s hoodie. A cold settled into Jason’s bones along with the vibration of the soft words. “Someone touched by death. Can you feel them too? They’re not not like us. They haven’t died. They haven’t died, but they reek of death. Hood, what are they?”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here, remember?” Jason assured Danny automatically. The words rolled out of his mouth without Jason having to even think about them, which was good, because Jason’s mind was still caught on Danny’s words: They’re not like us. They haven’t died. “Some Bats just stopped by to check on us.”

Was it Bruce? Did all of Gotham’s death cling to his shoulders like his cape?

Was it Damian? Was it the stench of the Pits?

Or did Jason miss something else slipping in with all of the other alarms.

“We’ll go check on Nightwing together, alright? I bet he has a little red and black guest who slipped in,” Jason said. He twisted his hand to hold Danny’s. The cold bit at his skin. He didn’t let go.

He hoped he was right.

He had a hard time believing in hope too.

---

AN: A myyyyyyyystery *wiggly fingers*. Gods I'm so tired.

I no longer tag, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead!

[whimsicalpolitical]

a request if I may… matty getting mad talking to someone on the phone and girlie is just watching him like😵‍💫😵‍💫 and he takes his frustration out on her😁

content warning: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, dirty talk, spanking,

this has been going on for a while now: matty walking back and forth through the room and getting more frustrated by the phone call.

“fucking christ,” matty says gritting his teeth, “what’s your fucking damage?”

you’re sitting at the edge of the bed, done with your nightly routine and only waiting for your pacing boyfriend now.

sleep is the last thing on your mind though.

twenty minutes torture. matty’s little rage act makes your thighs ache because you’ve been clenching them together the second he started to cuss and swear.

“that’s not what i’ve been saying bro, fucking listen.”

your eyes stay on the veins on his forearm when he’s running his hand through his hair, letting a groan slip out of his mouth.

you bite your lip watching him, feeling your panties dampen as his conversation continues.

“you can fuck off with that.”

you inhale sharply and matty hears. he thinks you’re annoyed because you wanted to go to sleep right before his phone rang.

he walks towards you and cups your cheek as he mouths a ‘sorry’.

“actually, i’ve got better things to do, mate. calm down, roll yourself a spliff and chill out, will do you good, i reckon.”

matty is still standing in front of you, so close to touch, to do anything you want to do to him. your hands sneak around his body to his back over his soft shirt.

“nah, have a nice one, i will not fucking continue this conversation. jesus, yeah, you too.”

matty slides his phone into his back pocket, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. the tension in his jaw doesn’t ease even as he exhales sharply, muttering something about “fucking tosser.”

“i’ve been a right twat tonight,” he says, his voice softer now, almost contrite. the furrow in his brow lingers, though, like he’s still half-lost in whatever argument just happened over the phone. “sorry it took so long.”

you swallow hard, suddenly hyperaware of how close he is. the space between you is barely there, his knees brushing yours where you’re perched on the edge of the bed. his t-shirt clings to him in all the right ways, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander.

you watch him for a moment, taking in the way his shoulders are still tight, his hands shoved into his pockets. he’s not looking at you directly, not yet, but the way his chest rises and falls in short bursts tells you he’s still got all that anger simmering under the surface.

“it’s alright,” you say softly, shaking your head. “but do you want to talk about it?”

his lips press into a thin line, and he tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment like he’s hoping it’ll swallow him whole. “no,” he says finally, voice flat. “you wanted to go to bed, yeah? you must be knackered now.”

you frown, your head tilting. “i’m not, though.”

he glances down at you then, his brow furrowing like he doesn’t quite believe you. “you should be,” he mutters.

you shake your head again, slower this time. “you should talk about it,” you murmur, reaching out to rest your hands on his forearms. your fingers skim over his skin, and his muscles twitch beneath your touch. “it’ll help. get it out of your head, and then maybe you won’t feel so mad.”

he snorts, shaking his head, his eyes darting away from yours. “what’s the point? won’t change anything. and, anyway, you shouldn’t have to deal with me when i’m like this.”

“i don’t mind,” you say, your voice gentle. your thumbs rub small circles against his arms, coaxing him to relax even just a little. “besides, it’s better than letting it fester. you’ll just drive yourself mental.”

he doesn’t respond right away, his gaze dropping to where your hands rest on him. his jaw tightens again, like he’s still debating it, still trying to work through it on his own. but you can feel the way his tension hasn’t eased, the way he’s holding himself so rigid, and you slide your hands up slowly, tracing over his chest now.

“or,” you say, your voice quieter, almost testing, “you could find another way to let it out.”

his eyes snap to yours at that, narrowing slightly. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his tone sharp, defensive, like he’s daring you to say it.

your fingers spread out against his chest, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart under your palm. “it means,” you say slowly, your gaze not wavering from his, “you could do something to relieve that anger.”

his brow lifts slightly, and for a second, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. and then he scoffs, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “are you serious?”

“what?” you ask softly, your voice even, steady.

“were you—” he starts, breaking off with a disbelieving laugh before leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing. “were you getting off on that? me losing my shit?”

your face flushes hot, but you don’t pull your hands away. instead, your fingers curl into his shirt, gripping it lightly as you hold his gaze.

“not like that,” you say quickly, though your voice wavers just enough to make him raise an eyebrow.

“not like that,” he repeats, his tone skeptical. his hands come down to rest on your thighs, his grip firm but not harsh, and he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours. “go on, then. explain it to me.”

you swallow hard, your pulse quickening as his thumb brushes over your cheek. “matty, don’t—”

“don’t what?” he cuts you off. “don’t call you out on it? don’t notice the way you’ve been watching me like you want to devour me. i saw, love. the way you clenched your thighs together.”

you open your mouth to retort, but the words die on your tongue when his lips brush against your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. his hands slide up your thighs, his fingers curling against the fabric of your sleep shorts.

“that’s dirty. thought you’re being a nice girl and you want to talk,” he scoffs, “instead you just want to be fucked.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues kissing your neck and his hands wandering to your upper thighs.

“fuck, you’re warm,” he murmurs, his voice rough in your ear. “and so bloody worked up, is this what my little tantrum does to you?”

you let out a soft whimper, your hands gripping his shirt to ground yourself. “matty…”

“say it,” he demands, pulling back just enough to look at you. his pupils are blown, and his chest rises and falls heavily. “say you like it when I’m like this.”

you hesitate for a moment, but the way his hands tighten on your thighs has you caving. “i like it,” you admit in a shaky whisper. “i like it when you’re… like this.”

“knew it,” he mutters before capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

the kiss is all-consuming, a perfect mix of frustration and desire. his hands wander freely now, sliding under your shirt to grip your waist. you gasp against his mouth when his teeth graze your bottom lip, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours.

when he pulls back he shakes his head, “you want me to be rough?”

“yes,” you breathe out as fast as possible.

“christ. alright. lay down, get on the bed.”

you nod and scoot backwards, your eyes fixated on matty, who’s already pulling his shirt over his head.

he looks divine. black jeans with a belt and no shirt, his tattoos on full display for you drives you insane. you squirm a bit, waiting for his next move.

he’s taking your feet into his hand, rubbing your skin softly.

“darling, i need you to be absolutely sure and if you don’t fuck with anything i do, you need to tell me.”

“i swear, matty,” you say, offering him a warm smile.

“perfect.”

you watch his face as he carefully and slowly grabs at the fabric of your sleeping shorts, pulling them all the way down.

“gonna let me do what i want to you then?”

“yes.”

his hands find your hips, he's sliding down the bed, just enough so his head is level with your middle, he dips his head down and presses his lips to the soft flesh, his teeth sink into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, you involuntarily let out a soft moan.

he grips your hips more firmly, almost like you'll disappear before him if he doesn't, he moves his lips to your other hip and nips at your skin, "my fucking gorgeous girl, absolutely filthy for me," he says lowly, his breath hot against your skinz

you whimper softly as both of your hands find the nape of his neck. his mouth moves to the soft swell of your tummy and he nips at the supple skin right above your belly button.

he pulls away and peers up at you, eyes dark and full of lust, his mouth hovers over yours, "you drive me mental, you know that, love?" he whispers fervently against your lips, his fingers squeezing the meat of your thighs.

“i'm pretty crazy about you too, matty," you whisper, his cheeks flush pink at your words, still so bashful. he kisses the heel of your palm before patting the side of your thigh, "turn around for me darling, go on, all fours, need to see all of you," he smirks, his eyes full of intensity as they drag down your body.

you do as he asks and move to the middle of the bed, flipping onto your knees and walking your hands out in front of you, arching your back slightly and hiking your up ass in front of him, he moans at the sight.

"just like that," he praises softly behind you and your pussy throbs, a familiar sticky heat pools in your panties at his words. you playtully take a glance back at him, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he sits up and moves to his knees behind you, his hands run up the backs of your thighs all the way up until they meet the globe of your ass.

"look at you, so fuckin' perfect," he murmurs, oggling the curve of your ass as his index finger sneaks under the lace trim of your panties, taking the material between his forefinger and his thumb and lightly skimming his fingers down the lace, "jesus.”

matty scoffs, “s’kind of pathetic. drenching your little panties because i’m angry.”

his fingers roam down to your covered slit and you let out a soft gasp, which only spurs him on, he runs his fingers along the wet spot on your panties, smirking when he feels the wetness staining your panties, the tips of his fingers dip below your clothed slit,

"that’s my girl though, right? always so fuckin' wet for me.”

it should embarrass you, how easy you are for him but it doesn't because it's matty and knowing how much he revels in this, in you makes that small pinch of embarrassment fade away instantly...every single time.

you risk a look at him over your shoulder as he pulls his finger back out and in one swift movement he puts his finger between his lips, quickly sucking your arousal off his finger, like it's a mindless, habitual thing for him.

his hands reach for the waistband sitting on your hips, pulling the lacy fabric down, marveling at the dark fabric against your skin as he slowly drags the material down your thighs, his eyes catch the wetness soaking the lace while he pulls them down and he moans shamelessly.

“such a pretty cunt, darling.”

your eyes widen while you watch him bunch up the material and shove the lace in his back pocket and then his hand lands an affectionate smack to your ass, "eyes forward, i won’t say it again."

you tear your eyes away as he brings a firm hand to the small of your back, pressing you down and deepening the arch to his liking, you instinctively drop to your forearms- so pliant and needy for him-he brings his mouth down and sinks his teeth into the lush of your ass in approval.

“fucking christ,” he groans behind you, “you’re so easy. gonna let me do what i want to you just because you’re needy, pathetic.”

his hands grab your inner thighs, spreading your legs, now he has full sight of your glistening core, two thick fingers stroke through your folds.

"you’re a mess, darling, look at that- you’re dripping down your legs.”

his words make your cunt throb, you can't help the whine you let out, "matty, please."

matty laughs, “you’re a fucking beg. what do you want?”

"i need you, please do anything, please," you mewl, not caring how pathetic you sound.

but still, not enough for matty. a loud wet smack fills the room as he lays a firm slap to your cunt, your body flinches forward, the edges of your vision blurs and your aching, swollen cunt tingles and clenches at the harsh, yet welcomed contact.

he tuts, "that’s it? you need to try better than that, love. beg for it.”

"matty please, i want your cock. i want it," you whine and writhe beneath his firm palm.

"see? s’all i’ve wanted to hear," he cooes, his slick-coated fingers now soothing your folds. “wouldn’t be fun though if we already skipped to the best part, would it?”

he shifts behind you, sliding down off the bed, kneeling on the floor, he pulls you back towards the edge of the bed by your thighs. he tilts his head up just enough to dig his teeth into the meat of your upper thigh, just below the curve of your ass cheek and soothes the sting with a wet kiss.

you shiver, you're aching for him and his mouth is everywhere except for where you need him to be.

“stop writhing around like a needy slut,” he spits out, “you don’t want me to stop immediately, right?”

“no, no, sorry.” you plead, closing your eyes.

matty’s hands come up to grab the meat of your ass, spreading you open and gently pushing you forward for better access, he brings his mouth to hungrily kiss your inner thighs, tasting the sweet, sticky slick coating your skin and a pitiful moan slips from your lips.

“mhm, perfect.”

matty seems to have heard it and that's all it takes for his lips to make contact with your pussy, your breath hitches in your throat as he flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow swipe through your slicked folds, the first one always drawn out and meticulous and just for him.

“oh f-fuck.” you moan.

a pressure already begins to pull taut low in your belly, you're squirming in his grasp but his hands move to firmly grip your outer thighs, keeping you open for him and pressed flush against his eager mouth. he fucking laves at you, devouring and savouring you like he'd never get the chance again.

“such a perfect one, yeah. my favorite taste.”

the vibrations from occasional muffled moans and groans against your pussy make you chant his name over and over like a prayer, even though he's the one on his knees.

“jesus matty," you moan out, your eyes roll back into your head as the coil inside your belly wounds up so tight every muscle in your body tenses. you start grinding your hips back into his face, he groans in response and loosens his grip on your legs, letting you take what you need from him.

it takes a moment to come down from your high, matty not being a help at all with the same pace he has on your clit.

he flattens his tongue against your clit before he closes his lips around it, suckling it into his mouth and moaning around it, the vibrations from his mouth makes the coil in your belly snap, and you cry out, using the sheets beneath you to stifle the noises slipping through your lips.

“fucking god,” you moan, “matty- can’t.”

matty hums a “you can,” and immediately latches on again.

the tip of his tongue works small, tight circles on your clit around and around, only this time with more pressure than before and within minutes or seconds-you don't really know at this point-you feel the pressure building in your belly and it's growing stronger by every lick and suck from his mouth. his tongue flicks over your clit before he licks it into his mouth once more, closing his lips tightly, he gives it one last tight circle of his tongue and suckle to your clit and you break, your second orgasm crashes over you.

“matty,” you moan over and over again, your brain completely empty with thoughts.

a choked moan escapes you, your legs quiver as they threaten to close while your hands fist the sheets beside your head, the grip he has on your thighs holds you open for him while you come all over his mouth and he laps you up, savoring, slurping, and swallowing down everything you give him.

“fucks sake,” he groans, “perfect cunt.”

milliseconds pass and he shifts behind you, lost in the haze of your orgasm, you can faintly hear ruffling as he stands up. he leans forward, kneading your ass in his palms before bending down to lay another bite on your other cheek, this time with more fervor, leaving a mark, your skin tingles.

matty’s hand is on him, stroking himself slowly, while his other hand is touching your body.

“just a little toy for me, aren’t you, darling?” he asks, not expecting an answer, “gonna let me fuck you?”

matty positions himself right against your ass and places his hands on your hips again and squeezes, “talk to me.”

"not like this,” you whine, not daring to look back, “wanna see you.”

“aww,” matty pouts, “you’ve got too many wishes, you know?”

nevertheless he grips your thighs and turns you around so you’re on your back. you’re eyes are staring at him but it seems like you’re not there, your brain feels hazy.

“you’re alright, love,” matty says, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

you can only whine and grip the nape of his neck to receive a proper kiss.

“needy girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you a kiss, licking over your bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth.

your sounds are swallowed by his mouth as he keeps kissing you, grinding himself against your thigh.

“can-please,” you whine, stretching your arm out to find his cock, which is already leaking with pre cum.

matty lets out a quiet groan, you can't help but smile at this as you start to rub him between your legs, grabbing his attention back onto the task at hand.

“didn’t say you could touch me, love,” he grits out, “s’like you can’t get enough.”

“i can’t,” you smile, tugging at his hair, “can you please fuck me.”

you’re desperate. how could you not be with matty between your legs, right there.

matty slides inside of you roughly, not slow and steady, not giving you any time to adjust, he’s using you.

“fuck, this what you wanted?” he asks as his eyelids flutter closed.

he’s got one of your thighs in his grasp and he's pushing it up against your ribs as he begins a steady pace with his hips against yours. there’s strings of your slick attached to his upper thighs from your inner legs rubbing against him.

matty notices immediately, “fucking christ, you’re making such a mess, s’heavenly.”

“matty,” you moan, “you- s’perfect.”

“yeah?”

matty brings his right hand back down to continue flicking your clit back and forth with his wet fingers.

you bite down on his shoulder. your propped up foot thuds softly against his back as the other one grips onto the sheets.

"feel nice?" matty asks into your hair as you bite down onto him, “fucking enjoy yourself?”

“feel so perfect," you whine against him. "jesus, so good,” you slur.

his weight is pushing you down so you can't wiggle away from any of the stimulation he's giving you. it accumulates quickly and, just laying there and taking it, you don't get enough time to warn him you're close.

you’re clenching around him uncontrollably, rolling your eyes back and clawing your nails into his shoulder blades.

“let me have it, come on,” he groans, rutting into you as deep as before, “come for me.”

he fucks you harder, his pace frantic. "such a perfect cunt, darling." he groans, dipping his head into your neck to nip at your skin. “my gorgeous girl."

"oh, god, matty..." you cry, your orgasm quickly approaching, unable to stop it no matter how much you want to prolong the feeling.

it doesn't take long before your orgasm crashes over you, pulsing through you in waves, back arching off the bed as you reach out for anything to ground yourself. hands finding the back of his head, pulling him into your chest.

“just like that, perfect, darling.”

he follows soon after, his cock pulsing inside you as he empties himself into you, collapsing on top of you, his chest heaving.

“fuck,” he exhales, moving one more slow time again to torture the both of you.

you’re overstimulated, your legs hurting so good there are tears prickling in your eyes. you brush your hands over matty’s shoulders and back, humming as you try to love on him.

“you still angry?” you ask, smiling to yourself.

matty groans when he lifts his head to look at you, stealing a quick kiss, “nah. unless you want me to be,” he jokes.

“give me a break,” you giggle.

“i love you, darling,” he murmurs, sliding out of you, hissing at the cold air.

you scrunch up your nose in pain, your ass, thighs and the skin between your legs hurting real good.

“i’ll draw you a bath, don’t worry, love.”

you enjoy this the most. matty being the sweet boy you’ve known forever, his only mission to take care of you.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Ravel

A Seams Christmas special oneshot | Moodboard

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: T

Summary: Joel swings by yours with a little something before Christmas dinner at Tommy and Maria's.

Warnings: Unapologetic fluff and softness, inspired by this ask from @casssiopeia from the beginning of the year, no use of Y/N, very lightly edited

Word count: 2k

Notes: I'm so proud of writing up this little drabble. I've been in such a weird place with my writing, I'm just happy to end the year on a creative high. Obviously, I'm a few days late to Christmas, but better late than never!

There is a voice in my head telling me that this isn't good enough, that it doesn't hold up to what I was writing earlier this year. But I need to rewire my brain. There is no such thing as 'good' or 'bad' when it comes to fanfiction. All fanfiction is good fanfiction. This is our hobby, not our jobs, and we need to be kind to ourselves.

I am posting this at 11:59pm on New Year's Eve. Happy new year y'all, I hope Joel and Pin can bring you some festive cheer ❤️

Joel is this close to have a fucking breakdown.

He would measure out how close this is between his thumb and index finger if they were not currently tangled in webs of yarn, rapidly unravelling from from the bottom of what is supposed to be a sweater.

Your sweater.

The book that Lucy lent him months ago lies on the table before him, the pages yellowed and dogeared, open at the the easiest pattern of the lot to knit - a simple pullover in chunky yarn, in your favourite colour.

Well, it was supposed to be easy, anyway.

Despite Lucy basically holding his hand throughout the whole project, he’s had far less time than anticipated to work on it. Too many nights he finds himself at Tommy and Maria’s, elbow deep in dirty baby’s clothes and diapers, making himself useful for whatever needs to be done around the house. 

Even Ellie chips in without being asked, often bringing back food from the canteen and making sure the severely sleep-deprived adults are eating, if not well fed. Joel honestly doesn’t remember how he did it with Sarah as a clueless twenty-something, with an even more clueless younger brother.

As he attempts to free himself from the quagmire of wool, he grimaces at the stiffness all over his body, feeling it especially in his back after sleeping in an armchair all night with a rapidly growing two-month old.

He’s too old for this shit - but there’s no saying no to the little rascal with Tommy’s nose and Maria’s eyes.

The knitting needles clatter to the floor when he jumps at the front door opening and slamming shut, a frustrated fuuuuuuck slipping past his gritted teeth. 

Ellie’s voice rings out loud and clear as she scampers up the stairs, getting progressively louder until she’s outside his study. ‘Hey! Did you remember to put the potatoes in the oven? We have to leave for Tommy’s in an hour - dude, what the fuck is happening?’

‘What do you think is happenin’?’ he growls.

Crossing her arms, Ellie leans against the doorframe wearing a far too amused expression. ‘Maria said no gifts.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘It’s not for Maria.’

The teenager squints, perplexed, at the bits of wool in his hands. ‘What is that meant to be?’

‘... A sweater.’

Ellie bites her bottom lip, holding in a poorly concealed giggle. ‘I think a sweater is meant to have sleeves.’

‘You think?’

‘Want me to go get Lucy?’

With a heavy sigh, he mutters, ‘Fine.’

At the arch of her half-eyebrow, Joel adds begrudgingly, ‘Please.’

Ellie grins, sneakers skidding on the floorboards as she takes off. ‘Hang in there, old man!’

Despite the cold, his palms are sweaty, sticking to the kraft paper wrapped haphazardly around the even more haphazard package clutched tightly in his right hand. 

The night air mists before him in puffs of white as he shuffles a path through the falling snow. His ears are tingling from the cold, and flexing the stiff, frozen tips of his fingers, Joel knows he should’ve worn his gloves. They weren’t in their usual place by the door though, and he was so frazzled that he barely got his shoes tied up before dashing out the door, sending Ellie ahead with the potatoes (that are definitely undercooked) to his brother’s.

Your cottage glows yellow and orange in the darkness, and your stairs no longer creak when he trudges up them, having fixed them just in time before the first snowfall.

He hears your footsteps come from deep within this house when he knocks. Your eyes are wide when your door cracks open tentatively, but then your lips curve into a smile - the smile that he takes with him and keeps him warm when he has to leave Jackson for days-long patrols.

‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, ushering him inside, not batting an eye at the snow he tracks inside. ‘I thought we were meeting at Maria’s.’

Pressing a kiss to your lips, he softens at the way you lift your face towards him to catch it, careful to keep the parcel out of sight behind his back. ‘Yeah, we were, but thought I’d see if you need a hand with anythin’.’

‘Such a gentleman,’ you tease. 

A low fire burns in the hearth, the wood he chopped for you in the fall stacked in a tidy pile next to the mantelpiece. Sweeping his eyes across the living space, he spots the book with the cracked spine that he reads when he’s here on the coffee table, next to yours. On the other side of the couch is the Christmas tree that he cut for you, and he watched you dress it up in tinsel and fairylights one night after a quiet dinner and before hot cocoa under thick blankets.

He likes seeing himself at your home. In the things he does for you; in his things, casually scattered around - like they belong in your space.

‘The pies are in the kitchen, could you please put them in a bag?’ you ask. ‘I’ll just grab my coat and we can go.’

‘Sure, sweetheart,’ he answers, waiting until you’ve disappeared into the bedroom before setting down the present under the tree.

He’s leaning against the back of the couch when you pop back in, a few layers deeper than when you left him, the pies nestled safely in a carrier bag by his boots. 

‘Shall we?’ you ask brightly.

Joel hesitates, wondering if he should wait until after dinner to tell you about the present. It only takes his eyes darting to the foot of the tree for the briefest moment for you to catch on. The slow smile that stretches your cheeks and lights up your eyes warms him from the inside out.

You cock your head to one side, playing coy. ‘What’s that, Joel?’

He shrugs, feigning cool. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and find out?’

His chest physically swells at the way you dash towards the tree, landing on your knees in uncharacteristic recklessness, the impact only softened by the rug underneath. You cradle the lumpy package to your chest like something precious. ‘You got me a present.’

He settles on the end of the couch next to you, his heart beating harder in his ribcage than he’d like to admit. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart.’

You frown at him. ‘Why?’

‘You’ll see, but I wanted to give it to you anyway.’

You open the package carefully, as if it was wrapped in the fancy paper people used to buy at the shop. Joel holds his breath when you peel it away to reveal what’s inside.

He’s far too inside his own head to hear your inhale that sounds a lot like wonder. You pick up the sweater gently, shaking it out, and Joel winces when he sees it in the flicker of the firelight.

Disastrous doesn’t begin to cover it. Lucy managed to connect the sleeves to the shapeless body in a last-ditch salvage attempt, but one is clearly longer than the other. The stitches are untidy, some have obviously caught onto something and pulled loose. Rough around the edges is putting it kindly.

Joel wants to reach out, grab it, chuck it into the fire and let the flames swallow it whole.

Finally, the silence gets the better of him, and he blurts out. ‘I’m sorry.’

You stare at him, stunned. ‘What?’

Under his whiskers, his cheeks flush in embarrassment, and he rambles, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinkin’. You deserve better sweetheart, here, let me -’

You almost lose your balance keeping the sweater out of his reach. ‘Don’t you dare, Joel Miller.’

Confused, he watches you rise to your feet, shucking your outer coat and another layer. ‘What are you doin’?’

Grabbing the sweater, you slide it over your head and thread your arms through the sleeves. The soft knit drapes over your curves, too big over your shoulders and the hem falling unevenly, higher on the right side than the left. One sleeve is long enough to cover half your hand, while the other sits right on the wrist.

And yet. 

You’re beaming like you just picked up something at Bloomin’dales or whatever the fuck those department stores were called back then. 

‘I love it,’ you declare, no trace of irony in your voice, as hard as he’s trying to find it.

He scoffs in disbelief. ‘C’mon, sweetheart, you’re just sayin’ it -’

You surprise him, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and dragging him towards you to plant a firm kiss on his lips. 

‘I love it,’ you repeat slowly, with conviction, as if willing him to believe you. ‘Thank you.’

He doesn’t quite still, but he smiles and kisses you back. ‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart.’

‘Since we’re doing this -’ you trail off, sliding out of his grip to reach around the back of the tree, pulling out a neatly wrapped gift. ‘This is for you.’

Joel pauses. 

For him.

For the longest time, nothing had been for him unless it was soul-crushing grief and pain.

And yet here it is - his name on the tag written in your neat handwriting. Something he can hold in his hands. For him.

His fingers tremble when he reaches out. The package is soft, and the paper crackles under his grip. He all but tears it open, uncaring of the way the wrapping falls to the floor.

A laugh bubbles out of his throat, and you look relieved at his reaction. ‘You like it?’

It’s not quite a Santa hat. It’s a chunky dark red beanie with a white brim folded back, and topped with a white pompom. 

‘My ears were so cold walkin’ over. It’s perfect,’ he says, pulling it over the crown of his head. Of course, it fits just right, sliding soft and warm over his ears. He adds with a wink, ‘Y’know what, I might just shimmy down some chimneys after dinner.’

‘As long as you shimmy down mine too,’ you retort, not hearing the euphemism.

Joel quirks an eyebrow at that, one large palm squeezing your backside through the layers. ‘That an open invitation, sweetheart?’

You duck your head, more out of habit than actual shyness, with mischief in your smile. ‘Don’t be so crude, Joel Miller.’

Adjusting his new hat so that it sits comfortably, he points at the pompom and jokes, ‘Shame I can’t wear this on patrols.’

Right on cue, you hold up a finger. ‘Funny you should say that.’

He chuckles when you pull out a second, plain black beanie, as if out of thin air. ‘You really thought of everythin’, sweetheart.’

You shrug playfully. ‘I’m smart like that.’

‘I know you are,’ he smiles.

‘Merry Christmas, Joel.’

His lips find yours again in a slow, lingering kiss that has you leaning into him for more when he pulls back. ‘Thank you. For everythin’.’

You hold his gaze - heavy with meaning, light with joy. It wouldn’t take more than a tilt of the head towards the bedroom to derail your evening plans, and you both know it.

In the end, you’re the one who stays strong. Taking one step back from his warmth, you reach for your coat. ‘We’re late, we should go.’

His eyes widen. ‘Wait - you’re not wearin’ that to dinner are you?’

‘Of course I am,’ you say, buttoning up your coat over the sweater.

‘You don’t have to, sweetheart,’ he almost pleads with you.

You grin, heading for the door, blowing out candles as you go. ‘Too bad, I’m never taking it off.’

Joel shakes his head with a wry huff. ‘Well, I hope not never -’

You have one foot out the door when you suddenly remember. ‘I almost forgot - you left your gloves here last time. They’re in the cupboard by the door.’

Ah, that’s where they went. He opens the drawer and pulls them on, one after the other, the leather, worn smooth with age, creaking as he wraps his fingers around the handles of the carrier bag.

Joel is about to follow you out the door when he pauses over the threshold. Glancing down at the black beanie in his grasp, he reaches up and hooks it on the coat rack, nestled among your clothes.

He hopes that when the time comes for him to wear it for the first time - maybe on a patrol that will take him away from you for a few days - it will smell like you.

Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics ❄️

More notes: I hope I will return to the main series in the new year. I've missed these two lovebirds, I hope you enjoyed this little interlude! ❤️

[d0youc0py]

Hello!!! I was wondering if you could do something where Ghost and fem!reader (or can be GN!reader, whatever you prefer :)) work alongside each other in 141 and have secret romantic feelings for each other? And the team is sent on a mission, and Ghost and reader have to share a room with each other and it just gets super fluffy and cute, with a side of banter? Maybe they even reveal their crush?

If not, that’s totally fine! I hope you have a marvellous week 🤍💗

warnings: none really, fluffy, female reader, one bed trope (kinda)

He did a quick sweep of the safe house, rolling his eyes as he already heard the sound of your gear thumping to the floor.

“What did I tell you about letting your guard down?” He scolded, beginning to peels off his own gear. His mask was the first to go, a soft sigh leaving him as the tight fabric hit the floor.

“You looked like you had it covered.” You smiled. You reached into your bag grabbing a pack of wipes.

“Not a chance. Last time you cleaned my face you scrubbed me raw.” He huffed, his feet moving backwards. You paused, soaking up his handsome face before he tugged a clean mask on.

“Fine, but don’t get upset when you get pink eye.” You playfully sneered. He rolled his eyes at you before plopping down on the rickety mattress. “Umm, excuse me? What’re you doing?” You asked slowly.

“Relaxing.” He responded. He stretched, his back cracking back into place. He laid down, wanting so badly to kick off his tight boots.

“You always let me have the bed.” You reminded. You pushed his knee softly to get his attention.

“You don’t want this thing. Trust me, pretty girl, it’ll give you bedbugs.” He pressed, hitting you back with his foot.

“Well I’d rather have bedbugs than termites.” You insisted, sitting down on the edge.

“Suit yourself.” He groaned, moving to get off of it.

“Wait.” Your hand reached out gripping his shoulder. You could feel him tense and twitch under your hand. “It’s pretty big.” You began slowly.

“I know I’ve been trying that new workou”-

“The bed, not your shoulder dummy.” You huffed.

“Oh.” He sighed. “Oh.” He repeated, your words hitting him like a boulder. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Sweetheart. I don’t really sleep out here anyways- you know that.”

You laughed like you suddenly remembered that little fact about him.

“You’re right. I forgot.” You said flashing a fake smile. You always had trouble sleeping- especially on missions. You had never admitted it but one of the best night of sleep you’ve gotten was when you and Simon crashed on Gaz’s couch when you all got a little too tipsy. You woke up sandwiched between him and the cushion, his strong arms seemingly shielding you from whatever bad things crept into your mind while you slept. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been chasing that feeling since. He’d never admit it, but the same scenario flashed through his mind- and he’d be a liar too if he said it didn’t have the same effect on him.

It had gotten dark quick. The hooting owls provided a ambience you wished you could someone manipulate into being romantic. He had settled by a window smoking cigarette after cigarette to pass the time. His preferred activity was sneaking peaks of you ‘sleeping.’ He could tell you were faking it, nobody- not even you could look that perfect as they slept.

“We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, pretty girl. Better get to sleep.” His voice caused you to jump.

“I was.” You snipped. He ‘tsked’ putting out his cigarette with his boot. He stood up, grabbing his gun, propping it up next to the bed. “Make some room? If you haven’t changed your mind.”

You quickly scooted towards the wall and he rested his hand on your side to keep you from bumping into it.

“Don’t have to go that far. Don’t have scabies.” He huffed. You were shoulder to shoulder. “Don’t you usually sleep on your side?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“Yeah.” You agreed. You rolled over, facing him and you quickly realized he probably intended for you to roll the other way. Yet you were so close to getting what you wanted it felt weak to give up now.

“Si?” You asked quietly. He grunted, urging you to continue. “Could I- maybe.” You stopped yourself. You saw his blonde lashes flutter open again, his hazel eyes meeting yours. Without a word he lifted his arm up, the invitation being one you were dying for. You huddled close to him, your head finding its way to the crook of his neck. Your hand tangled itself in his sweatshirt (that you swore couldn’t be tactical). His head rested against your own and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the perfect fit.

“Thank you.” You murmured.

“Course.” He muttered back.

[breadbrobin]

friendship bracelets

leo valdez x reader — heroes of olympus

[gn!child of demeter reader]

summary: friendship bracelets are a love language in themselves. it’s a shame leo can’t wear the ones you make him.

warnings: little bit of swearing, possibly ooc leo, fluff, food and eating, leo forgets to eat sometimes.

word count: 1.2k

(so i wrote a leo fic too uhhhh. anyway. i love him and i have always loved him and i will always love him, so here’s a lil gift from me to you and uhhh yeah enjoy!)

——————————————

you’d given leo two bracelets. one was at the wilderness school. it was flimsy and made of red and yellow beads, held together by an elastic tie you’d smuggled into the school. the second was after your first quest. you’d managed to get some leather straps and made a braided leather bracelet for him.

he thought you’d made them for your other friends too, but he soon found out that he was the only one to get a matching leather bracelet with you.

“i don’t have enough for everyone,” was your excuse as you hid your rolls of leather threads and straps under your pillow. “i wish i could.”

that was good enough for him.

he soon realised, though, that he couldn’t wear them.

the risk of them burning was far too high, and after he nearly melted the beaded one when he got too excited one day, he decided to stop wearing them.

they held pride of place on his bedside table though. they were right beside his three-day-old water glass and the shrivelled pot plant you’d given him that you swore he’d be able to keep alive.

“it’s a cactus, leo! you can’t kill a cactus.”

he killed the cactus. or, at least, he mostly killed the cactus. you’d even named it jeremiah in the hopes that it would make him remember to water it, but he’d known a jeremiah once and hated his guts, so it hadn’t really helped much.

so leo valdez was a plant-killing, bracelet ignoring bastard. what was new?

oh, nothing. just the fact that he was madly in love with you.

maybe it was the bracelets, or your insistence that he would be able to keep a little cactus alive, or your uncontrollable laughter as he showed you the wilted plant, or maybe even the way you used your influence over plants to heal the little cactus and bring it back to life.

whatever it was, he was totally screwed. so screwed, in fact, that he took to staring at the two bracelets on his table every night before going to sleep, wishing he could wear them to see the look on your face.

leo worked hard. he always did. once he got into something, he didn’t stop until it was finished. sometimes, that meant ignoring his body’s need for food and water.

you marched into bunker 9 with a bag in hand. “leo valdez!”

he looked up from his workbench. “what did i do? whatever it was, it wasn’t me. i swear.”

“yeah, you didn’t do anything. like eat! i didn’t see you at breakfast or lunch!” you sat on his workbench beside him and placed the bag down in front of his busy hands. “it’s three o’clock now, so i bought you food.”

“i really have to—“

“eat? yes, you do.”

“no, but—“

“and drink water? that too. there’s a water bottle in there.”

“y/n—“

“leo, if you don’t eat your food i’ll break your hands so you can’t work anymore and then i’ll spoon feed you chicken soup every day until your hands are better.”

he looked up at you, offended. “i hate chicken soup.”

you smiled and leaned forward. “i know. so eat your fucking food.”

he raised his hands in defeat. “okay, fine.” he set his tools down and opened the bag with a teasing roll of his eyes. “if it pleases you so.”

“it does, indeed.”

as he ate, you walked around the bunker as you did every time, your hands behind your back like you were at an art gallery. to you, it was a gallery. bunker 9 was like the inside of leo’s mind: chaotic, messy, always moving and changing, and covered in memories of you. there were polaroid pictures that you’d given him pinned to a cork board. the whiteboard beside it read: ‘meet y/n for campfire’. there was even a note you’d scrawled to him in Ancient Greek a few weeks ago: ‘don’t forget to eat, dumbass.’ Apparently, he hadn’t listened to that one.

you walked back over just as he finished his food. he made to hand the back bag to you, but you stopped him. “you didn’t get everything.”

he frowned and opened the bag again, looking inside. “what are you— oh!”

he reached in and pulled out a leather bracelet. it was similar to the one you’d made him before, but tidier. you’d clearly gotten better at making them. “it’s beautiful, but, y/n, you know i can’t—“

“you can’t wear them because you’ll burn them. i know. put it on.” you smiled knowingly.

he put it on warily. it was nice, and his heart fluttered a little at the gesture, but he still couldn’t wear it out of fear.

“now burn it.”

his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. “what?”

“burn it.”

“i’m not gonna—“

“do you trust me?”

“sometimes, like when you tell me to burn your hard work, i don’t, no.”

you stepped forward and tightened the bracelet on his wrist. “leo. burn it. or i will.”

he frowned up at you. “you’re very scary today.”

“thank you,” you smiled, stepping back. “just trust me.”

he sighed and shook his head, but lit his hand and lower arm on fire, watching forlornly as the bracelet melted to nothing—hold on. he extinguished the fire. the bracelet was still there. “how did you—?”

“talked to lou ellen. there’s a spell on that one. i had to get her to do it as i made it, but it won’t burn. it’s magic.” you smiled proudly, rocking back and forth on your heels.

he looked at you in shock and stood up. “you made a fire resistant bracelet for me?”

you shrugged. “of course, i did. and look!” you extended your wrist to him, showing a matching one. “i made a better one for me too!”

he looked from your wrist to your face with his signature impish grin. “thought you didn’t have enough to make anymore.”

you shrugged. “maybe i underestimated myself.”

“maybe you did.”

for a moment, you just smiled at each other, and he thought he could have kissed you right there and maybe (just maybe) from the look on your face you wouldn’t push him away, but then you slipped your hand into his and pulled him to another work bench. his hand was still warm, as always. “now, tell me what this is, because i have no idea.”

so, as he explained how one of his many projects worked and you hung onto his every word and held his hand tightly, he couldn’t help but feel a little warmer than usual.

and maybe, when you left that afternoon, leaving him to continue his work, pressing a kiss to his cheek like you always did, he could summon the courage to pull you back in for a kiss on your lips, like he’d always wanted. and maybe your friendship bracelets would turn into something more.

but, even if they didn’t, he knew he’d fall asleep that night without staring at his bedside table. he’d stare at his wrist instead. and he’d never take that bracelet off. ever. not even if the gods themselves required him to.

[pholla-jm]

Stubborn

IMAGINE: STUBBORN~ LAW X READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: established relationship ***********

There was something off, and you could feel it. Even if you were sleeping. That is why you woke up, your hand immediately going to Law’s side. However, you were met with an empty bed. The sheets were cold, meaning that he has been gone for quite some time. You can’t say that you were surprised. This occurrence happens quite often. 

You knew exactly where he would be too. So you got up and headed straight to where he would be. You didn’t even bother knocking on the door. You just went in, not surprised to see that he was hunched over his desk with books littered around him. 

His head snaps up when he hears the door open. Ready to snap at one of his crewmates to leave him alone until he saw that it was you. With a sigh, he turns back to his books. 

“Go back to bed, (y/n).” “No.” 

Law’s eyes twitch at your answer. He could tell this was about to be a long interaction. One that he wasn’t sure he was going to win. 

You could be stubborn at times, much to Law’s dismay. You plop yourself on the couch that was across the room, tucking your legs underneath you and you cross your arms. 

“Come back to bed.” You say. Well more of a command. “I’ll be back soon.” “No you won’t. You’re lying.” 

“Huh?” Law spins around in his chair, now facing you. Now that he was looking at you, he could get a better look at you. 

Your clothes were a bit wrinkled, your face a little puffy from sleep and your eyelids were drooping a bit. However, you were fighting them to stay open. Clear signs of still being tired. But did you care? No. 

“You heard me. I know you won’t come back to bed.” “(y/n), stop being ridiculous. I’ll be back soon.” 

“Hmph,” You lean back against the couch with a frown on your face. “I will be staying here until you come back to bed with me.” 

You were a bit upset. Mainly because you were tired. You enjoyed your sleep, and you especially enjoyed sleeping next to your boyfriend. However, when he wasn’t in bed with you, your sleep quality went down. So it is important that Law sleeps with you. 

“You’re so stubborn.” Law grumbles, “fine. Do whatever you want.” “I will.” 

Law rolls his eyes, “you just have to get the last word in. Don’t you?” “Yup.” 

Law sighs, while turning back around. 

He doesn't expect you to go back to bed. He knows how stubborn you could be. However, he knew that you wouldn’t be able to stay up that long anyway. 

So Law gets back to work. Hoping that you would fall back to sleep in the next five minutes. That way, he would put you back to bed himself. 

Soon five minutes went by, but Law decides to give it another five minutes just encase. When ten minutes went by, he could hear some shuffling. He slightly turns his head, seeing what you were up to. 

When he sees the cup of coffee in your hand, he quickly turns back to you. 

How did he not hear you leave the room to get coffee? When did you even leave? 

“Don’t drink that!” He shouts, but you were even fazed by it as you continued to take sips of the hot coffee. 

“I clearly got to stay up… so why not have something that helps me.” 

A vein pops in his forehead, eyebrow twitching as he continues to hear your sips. You had a smug look on your face, which annoyed Law even more. 

“Fine! Just stop drinking that coffee.”

You pull the cup away from your lips, “and why is that?” “You clearly need to go to sleep. And coffee isn’t going to do that.” “You clearly need to sleep too. And I can’t go to sleep unless you're next to me.” 

Law sighs, pushing himself out of his chair. “I know. You keep telling me that.” “And yet. You don’t listen to me.” “Clearly my mistake.” 

You grin, getting up as well. “Clearly. You should listen to me more.” “You know I’m your Captain. You should listen to me.” “And I’m your partner. You should listen to me as well.” “How are you so stubborn?” He asks. 

You just shrug as the both of you leave the office. Heading straight back to your quarters. Where the both of you slept.

“Your stubbornness is going to be the death of me. I can feel myself aging faster.” “You’re being dramatic.” 

Law’s eye twitched at your light insult, “just get in bed.” 

You jumped in the bed, happy that your boyfriend was finally joining you in bed. 

Law lays in the bed as well. Turning to see that you still had a grin on your face. “Happy?” “Yes, very much so now.” You tell him as you cuddle up to him. 

As soon as you cuddle up to him, his body relaxes. Your body warmth flowing into his, and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around you as well. 

A blush flushes his cheeks when you place a kiss underneath his chin. Your version of a goodnight kiss. He pulls you in tighter, successfully hiding his blush from you. His chin goes on top of your head. “Goodnight, my love.” “Goodnight.” You whisper as you fall back to sleep.

[scorpioriesling]

Bad Idea, Right?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Lucien x reader

Warnings: SMUT oh my -- 18+, MDNI

Summary: Do they like eachother? No. Did they want to go on this mission together? Also, no. Did they plan to share a bed tonight? Definitely not! But are they complaining? Well...

SR’s Note: Using prompts #6, #17, #25, #50, #63, #72 as requested for @hardcoremarvelfan <3 This is absolute filth I hope this is what you wanted HAHA

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

“Why would Rhysand send you anyway? I’ve been a perfectly good emissary up until now.”

You couldn’t believe the gall that your High Lord had — sending an emissary from another court, just to help you with what you deemed a simple mission. You’d been to the Winter Court before, what was the deal with sending a Spring Court dweller with you?

“Must not be all that good,” the redhead chides. “Not good enough to travel to Winter to make a bargain, without me, that is.” You roll your eyes hard, continuing to walk two paces ahead of the Vanserra you were stuck with for the next few days.

“Whatever. You didn’t have to come, he isn’t technically your High Lord — he can’t make you do anything.” You purse your lips, hoping the dig hit its mark that Lucien technically didn’t belong to the Night Court. Hearing his exasperated sigh behind you, you know it did.

“So you say.” Is his only tired response. You had to admit, the dusk that had finally set over the horizon had you yawning every few minutes as well, the long day of travel finally catching up to you.

“Are you,” Lucien pauses behind you, and glancing back you catch his yawn as well. “…too tired to keep going?” He asks. “Maybe if you can’t complete this remedial request for your High Lord, you should head back. Get your beauty sleep.” He chuckles. You whip around to face him, a scowl plastered on your face.

“Get lost, Lucien.” You growl. He only stares past you, which has you glancing at the clearing beyond. A small trail of smoke breaks across the skyline.

“Hmm. An inn. How lucky.” You shrug. Lucien rolls his eyes, striding past you.

“I’d only be so lucky to have a few hours apart,” he scoffs.

You gasp dramatically, walking quicker than you’d like to catch up. “Oh please, you’d only be so lucky to spend the night with me.” Lucien simply shakes his head, continuing on his war path toward the inn.

And oh, was he lucky that night.

“You really don’t have anything else?” Lucien pleads with the pretty female behind the front desk. She sighs, shaking her head apologetically.

“I’m so sorry, this is the last room we have for the night.” She seems to address the both of you, however her eyes are glued to Lucien. He sends her a soft smile, taking the key she’s holding out for him.

“That’ll just have to do then.” He glances at you, and you roll your eyes. “Thank you.” The woman nods eagerly, and you are walking toward the stairs in an instant.

“I can’t believe this is all they had left.” You complain, setting down your pack and approaching the unmade bed. Lucien softly closes the door, glancing at your motions to prepare the bed with the clean sheets folded atop it.

“Better than nothing.” He deadpans. You begin stretching the sheets over the corners of the bed, quickly working on one side, then the other. Lucien simply watches, arms folded.

“It’s no wonder you’ve taken so many lovers,” he teases. “With the way you always make a show of bending over like that-“

“Ya know, I could really use your help, not your attitude.” You interject. He simply chuckles, moving toward the small bathing chamber attached to your bedroom.

“Or I could make the best use of my time in the shower.” He smirks, opening the door.

“Whatever. You’ll do what you want anyway.” You continue wrestling with the corner of the sheet you have handy.

“And I’ve never taken any lover, not of enjoyment, anyway.” You mutter as the door finally shuts behind him.

Once you’re finally satisfied with the bed presentation, you’re quick to change into the tank and shorts you have with you, the sheets providing comfort as you lay upon them. You can’t help but glance around for an open window as a chill hangs in the air, but you find none. Just another cold, barren night, spent with none other than Lucien. Fantastic.

You’re snuggled under the covers when the bathroom door opens, steam rolling out and momentarily warming your exposed skin. Lucien doesn’t bat an eye as he changes into nothing but sleep shorts before you — thank the Gods his back is turned. You can’t help but watch every muscle in his back as he tugs them on, blushing at the intruding thoughts creeping in.

No. Lucien was… annoying, remember? Annoyingly beautiful, yes, but ugh, could he get under your skin. Almost as easily as he was getting under the blankets beside you.

“Hands to yourself, Y/N.” He grins as he turns on his side, his back facing you once more. You scoff, your eyes narrowing at the back of his head and the dampened locks splayed on the pillow beneath.

“Please, Lucien. Spare me for once.” You faux-beg. He turns slightly, nose scrunched.

“Hey, I don’t know what you think about alone at night,” he accuses.

“Who said I was alone?” You quip. Sure, he was right, but you’d never let him know that.

“Right,” he drawls. “I forgot about all the lovers you take to bed each night.” You don’t have the energy for another tiff, so you just lay quietly. He turns, laying on his back and looking sidelong at you.

“Or is it just your imaginations you have to get you through the nights?” He implies. “Your fantasies?”

You only narrow your eyes at him, but his light up at your reaction, a cruel smile curving his lips.

“Tell me, Y/N — do you fantasize about me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you smack his shoulder, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“Lucien! Gross,” you chastise. He only laughs at you, and you turn away from him, staring now at the wall beside you. “Just do us both a favor and go to bed.” He only chuckles once more, the movement of his abdomen rather close to the small of your back than you’d noticed before.

You’d be an idiot to not notice the tension, the heat between you two warming your skin. You could practically feel his eyes staring into the back of your head. In seconds, he’s scooted close enough to spoon you, his hands lightly drifting to grip your chin between his fingers.

You barely have time to gasp as he says, “Beg for it.”

Your eyes widen, and you take in his darkened features as he tilts you to face him. He’s solely focused on you, his eyes switching between yours and your lips — you can’t help but do the same. His features are illuminated in the small candlelight of the room, highlighting the panes of his face flawlessly. You know you shouldn’t — and this is a really bad idea, right?

“Oh come on, Y/N,” he pleads. “You’ve been such a tease…” he trails off, his idle hand tracing along the curve of your hip, snaking upward until it finds purchase on your left breast. His fingers slowly trace circles around your nipple through your tank top, and your breath comes out in short pants.

“If you really want me to go to bed, just say the words,” he purrs. You nod slowly, ever entranced by the stunning man moving beside you. This is wrong, this is so wrong-

“Lucien,” you whisper. He bites on his lower lip, reveling in the way your nipple hardens below his tantalizing touch. You wished you could bite it for him, put your mouth on his, let out your frustration for every second you’d been forced to be with him-

“Mhm?” He coos. You don’t say another word as he slides overtop of you, leaning in to press a small kiss to your collarbone. He continues a path of wet kisses down, leaving your top on and going right over top of it. Gods, why must he torture you?

Reaching the hem of your shorts, he glances to you for only a moment before yanking them down harshly. A small squeak leaves your mouth as he tosses them aside, the cool air hitting your core sending goosebumps over your skin.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So… pent up and needy.” He runs his index finger through your folds, gathering a trail of your wetness as he goes. You groan, eyes fluttering shut.

“Lucien, please,” you grit out. He chuckles below you, and slides his finger inside of your slick entrance. A hum of approval from you doesn’t go unnoticed as he slowly moves it in and out, eyes watching as your face contorts in pleasure.

“Good thing I’m here to take care of you, huh,” he teases. You glare at him, and he only adds speed to his ministrations which send another soft moan flying from your lips. His mouth finds your jawline, kissing across it before biting softly just below the soft spot where it meets your neck. You gasp, hands leaving their grip on the sheets and instead threading through the damp tendrils of Lucien's hair. He growls lowly, his palm roughly hitting your clit as he continues to pump two of his fingers now inside of you.

As you feel the pressure building in the bottom of your stomach, he pulls his fingers from you, and you whine, a silent plea for more. He chuckles again, bringing his fingers to your lips instead.

"Open." Is all he says, and you gaze up at him, popping your lips open as he slides in, allowing you to taste yourself. His thumb slides over the fat of your bottom lip as his lustful gaze travels from your lips sucking greedily on his fingers to the swell of your breasts still concealed beneath your tight top.

"Good girl," he purrs, and the action and praise alone have you rubbing your thighs together with the need for more. All of it has you questioning why you disliked one another so much to begin with...

"Tsk tsk," he pulls his fingers out, using both hands to spread your legs apart and shove your knees up to your chest in a mating press position. The cool air on your exposed pussy has your core throbbing, aching for a release you know he could give you.

"Lucien..." you groan. He leans in, positining himself between your legs with his lips so close to yours that you share a breath. His auburn hair falls from his shoulders in soft waves, tickling your collarbone.

"I told you," he mutters. "You'll have to beg me for it."

Ahh, there it is. The reminder of why you hated him so much; here it is. Arrogant, self-absorbed-

"Cat got your tongue?" He chuckles. You glare up at him, your hand snaking between the two of you and dipping below the seam of his shorts. He's already hard, your fingers bracing around the length of his cock only draw a suprised grunt from him. He doesn't stop you as you begin quickly moving your hand, a tiny trail of precum wetting the top of your palm as you pump him. He groans in pleasure, his eyes closing for only a moment.

"No, a fox." You chuckle. His eyes snap open, finding yours to glower at you. In seconds, he sits back, too far from your grasp that you are forced to let go and retract your hand. His fingers grip the hem of your top, shoving it over your boobs and pulling it over your head without thought. He tosses it aside, not caring where it lands. He then pushes you into the mattress, his hips pinning yours and his hand holding one of yours above your head.

"You're really," his free hand finds his cock, sliding over it once. "…really...” another stroke. “…annoying," he sneers. You roll your eyes, breathing heavily underneath him in anticipation.

"Don't go thinking I'm doing this because I like you," you fire back. He chuckles, stroking himself slowly twice more before aligning himself with your entrance and slowly pushing himself inside. Your mouth drops open, and you meet his hauty gaze as he continues to push in, inch by inch.

"We'll see if you still hate me by the end of the night." He pulls out, almost all the way to the tip, and slams back in, all the way to the hilt.

"FUCK," you shout. He pulls out, again, slamming back in once more, and again, and again. Each time he pulls out less and less, his thrusts becoming faster and more needy as he continues to fuck all of himself inside of you.

"Lucien.... ohhhh fuck Lucien," you moan. He pants above you, his gaze drifting to where his dick is constantly pounding into you mercilessly, and you can't help but become more turned on by the sight of his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, low grunts of pleasure rolling from his throat. His hands move to grip the backs of your legs, pushing them up farther so he can continue to fuck you as deep as possible.

"Lucien... I'm-" You feel the heat already approaching, your stomach twisting with the need to release. He looks up at you, eyes dark with lust.

"Fuck... cum all over this cock Y/N," he growls. You gasp, the wave of pleasure crashing over you as his thrusts only speed up.

"Mmmmhm," he praises. You writhe at the overstimulation, squirming and crying out in pleasure as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. His fingers wrap around your neck as his other hand grips your hip to hold you still.

"We're not done yet," he grunts. You breathe deep, your breasts bouncing with every sharp hit of his cock inside of you, and his eyes meet yours.

"You take me so good, fuck... I won't last much longer." He sighs. You already feel another orgasm quickly building; but there's no way in Hell you'd let him know that. His ego definately didn't need it.

"Is this what you fantasize about, Lucien?" You say as sweetly as you can through your heavy breathing. You expect a snarky response, but you watch as Lucien's head tips back and he pounds into you harder. A soft groan rumbles from his throat, his eyes pinched shut in pure bliss. You have to admit — it’s one of the hottest scenes you���d ever seen, an image now burned into your brain whether you liked it or not.

"Gods, Y/N -- do you know how badly I've wanted you?" He breathes, and you stare silently up at him in shock. It's only a few moments before he realizes what he's admitted, his eyes widening in what looks like… shame?

Before you can think, rationalize your actions, you move your fingers along the skin of his hand still bracing your throat.

"Tell me exactly what you want." You whisper. He halts his movements, slowing down and leaning to your level. His lips are mere inches from yours, and although you'd really just want his mouth on yours right now, he stares at you through his half-lidded eyes and softly commands;

"Flip over -- ass up for me."

He releases the hold on your neck, and you scramble to do as he's requested, already missing the feeling of his big dick stretching you out so deliciously. Your legs tangle beneath you, and he moves only when you're leaning on your forearms with your butt in the air for him to grip your ass in his large, warm hands.

"Y/N... you're..." he sighs. You turn your face slightly, peering at him over your shoulder as he marvels at the way your butt moves when he squeezes it beneath his palms. It isn't long before he's moving behind you, his thighs brushing yours as the familiar stretch comes once more. He lets out a loud groan this time at the feeling, not taking as long to thrust into you once more and pick up the pace.

Soft grunts escape your throat for every thrust he provides, and you watch as his hands grip at your waist to bring your butt flush with his hips, sheathing his cock fully inside of you. He speeds up a little more, continuing to gaze down at your ass as it bounces against him with every drive.

"I'm.... I’m what… I… ohhh," you moan. You can't get the words out, can barely form thoughts over the way he's fucking you, the way his cock feels against your walls, filling you in a way you hadn't had before.

"Mmmh, Y/N," another huff, and his hand softly smacks against your butt. You gasp, and he groans before continuing. "You're fucking perfect," he goes on.

You can't help but blush at his words, even in your fucked-out state. "Oh Gods... you're made for this dick, hmm?" he says, his grip on your waist tightening as he pushes in faster.

"Lucien..." You moan. The heat in your stomach builds again, so so close you can't hold on much longer. You feel his fingers winding through your hair, gripping softly but forced enough to draw you up, your back hitting his toned chest as his short breaths softly grace your ear.

You cry out at the new angle, pleasure surging through every vein as his wandering hand finds your breast, kneading and pinching the left nipple.

"My fucking perfect girl," he growls.

"Oh.... oh Lucien I'm so close-"

"Mhm that's it, cum for me again," he drives in hard, and you moan loudly as your legs begin to shake, your orgasm barreling through you harder than it did the first time. Lucien only thrusts in twice more before the sweet sound of him chanting your name rings out, and his warm seed is spilling inside of you. He holds you tight, both of his hands wrapped around you as he lowers you to the bed, the finality of your combined waves of pleasure drawing near.

When he pulls out, a string of clear semen trails from his tip to your entrance as he moves from the bed toward the bathroom.

You glance over your shoulder, still panting as you make out his form retreating toward you, towelette in hand. He runs the warmed cloth over you, pulling it from reach when you silently hold your hand out to do it yourself.

Once he's sure he's got it all, he simply tosses it to the ground as he did your tank top, slipping under the covers beside you and pulling the sheets over your body.

Maybe rational thought hasn't returned yet, you think as he pulls you close, his body heat warming you through the chill in the air. You fit perfectly against him, your back to his front as his fingers trace idle circles along the column of your spine. You can't help but feel... relaxed, despite the rather wild activities you'd just engaged in.

You're almost drifted completely off to sleep, the comfort and warmth surrounding you wholly when you feel soft lips brush your cheek. You can't help but smile, Lucien's voice the last thing you hear before sleep engulfs you in full.

"Still claim to hate me, sweetheart?"

* ✧･ﾟ: *

[yallthemwitches]

“Do you do this for all your sick mates?” She asks, breaking the silence with a wry smile. He chuckles, hand still sliding against her cheek. “Only the ones who deserve it—only the ones I’m especially fond of.”

Rated T. Read under cut or on AO3

“Evans–now this is getting ridiculous.”

She clenches her eyes even more shut, keeping her body curled into a tight ball in the squashy arm chair. 

“Go away—I’m fine. Just…resting.” The effort to speak makes her head ring. “Shouldn’t you be in class anyway?”

She hears the dampened sound of footsteps and opens her eyes. James stands in front of her, tugging at his tie until it comes loose around his neck, his bag abandoned on the ground. 

“Peter told me you were up here looking like a shriveled up flobberworm,” he says plainly, “Can’t have my friends looking that bad.”

“Well, remind me to tell Peter exactly what I think he looks like next time he comes around,” she huffs, a frown too painful to muster.

It gets a smile out of him and for a moment she can look past the utter embarrassment of probably actually looking like a flobberworm. Through her pounding temples, his use of the word friend rattles around, taunting her in a way that she doesn’t have the energy nor desire to focus on. They are friends— that is a good thing. So why does it feel like a knife to her frontal lobe everytime he says it?

Her eyes blink open again to see him rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, tie now lost and the top buttons undone in a carelessly disheveled look. 

Oh, that’s why. 

“You should at least go to the hospital wing,” he chides. The good advice sounds foreign from his mouth. 

“No hospital wing,” she croaks out. “Honestly, it's just a cold. I need to just sleep it off…”

A sharp chill runs through her chest and she shudders her body closer, burrowing her face into her knees. The fire next to her crackles warmly, but it’s like someone has put a shielding charm on it— all she can feel is the cold hollowness of the castle. 

“Alright, suit yourself.”

Something resembling warmth slides under her and pulls her up out of the chair. Body going into panic mode, she begins to squirm in his arms, trying and failing to push against his chest and back into the chair.

“James, put me down. I’m disgusting–my nose is running.” 

“Nah, you’re not disgusting,” he says with full sincerity, “just sick.” His arms tighten around her and she abandons all hope to be released, taking advantage of the opportunity to be cradled against him. 

“We both know you won’t make it even two steps up to the girls dorm anyhow,” she adds, weakly. Playing a battle of wits with him on a normal day was exhausting enough, but with a fever it seemed downright unfair.

“Good thing I’m not going to the girls' dorm then.”

He turns his body in the other direction and starts climbing the steps to the boys’ dorm, having a far too easy time managing to carry her up such a cramped, spiral staircase. On the landing, he kicks open the door to the dorm room, all the boy’s bed curtains open and vacant besides leftover candy wrappers and bits of parchment. 

“The lads are out in classes until at least dinner,” he sets her down on her feet but she holds onto his arm for balance, woozy from the blood rushing back to her body. “--and even so, I’ll tell them to shove off if they happen to try to skive off a class.”

Still holding onto his arm, he leads her over to his bedside. It’s not a place she hasn’t seen before: since fifth Remus would sometimes invite her up to listen to records and now in more recent months she would come up to join in whatever antics they were up to—but to get in his bed? If her body had the leftover energy to make her cheeks burn, she would have been on fire. 

“You want me to sleep here?” She whispers, eyes darting around his space. None of the boys other than Remus had made their beds and looking down at the pulled back duvet she could imagine him clearly —sitting up with impossibly messy hair and eyes still full of sleep, stretching his arms over his head and yawning with some t-shirt on—or no shirt at all…

Suddenly everything went from freezing to blazing hot. 

James blinks, brow crinkling. “Well, I guess you could sleep in someone else’s bed but I think it would be better to ask–”

Her head jerks up to find his face dangerously close. Too close when she’s probably pale as a ghost and full of mucus and just a friend.

“No–sorry. That’s not what I meant. I’m not trying to be some kind of goldilocks…”

“Goldi—what?”

Suddenly, succumbing to sickness seemed awfully appealing. “Nothing, I’m delirious.”

“Right.” His brow furrows and his eyes scan over her face for a moment. “Is this ok then? It’s just that you said you didn’t want to go to the hospital wing and–”

“It’s fine. Really. It’s honestly too kind of you.” She means it, though she doesn’t have the energy to imbue her words with exactly how much. 

His face softens, a triumphant smile breaking onto his face. “It’s nothing. You can use my bed anytime—now, off you go.”

He leads her to sit and contemplate the most loaded statement she’s ever heard. 

Acting as though offering his sleeping quarters is as natural as sharing a quill, he goes over to his wardrobe and starts pulling out drawers, hands fishing through pieces of fabric.

“So what will it be? Socks I presume? Maybe something more comfortable to sleep in?”

She can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or not. The room starts to go fuzzy again and she wishes she still had his arm to hold onto. 

“Er–I have socks thanks.”

He turns around, holding thick, Gryffindor socks that are three sizes too big for her. 

“Yeah, but do you have quidditch grade, comfy, wool socks?” He tosses them in her direction and she just barely makes the catch. 

“Really, you’re doing too much I’m fine with—”

He pulls out a shirt and holds it up to inspect. She immediately recognizes it as his quidditch jersey from last year, the words quidditch captain not yet emblazoned on the front, but his name still written in gold lettering across the chest. It happens so quick she could have dreamed it, but his eyes shift from the jersey to her, a smattering of red starting to appear on his cheeks. 

“Ah, maybe…something else.” He mutters to himself, quickly stowing it away back into the drawer. Moments later, he pulls out a Montrose Magpie t-shirt and gives it a once over before walking it over to her in outstretched arms. 

“Here you are. Can’t say I have the coziest of things, but it’s better than wearing a bloody tie.”

She takes it with a quiet thanks. The burning feeling of being in his room now gone, the unbearable chill from downstairs starts to creep back into her bones. Wanting desperately to be horizontal and under covers as soon as possible, she starts shucking off her tie and unbuttoning her shirt without care, only one button in before she realizes that James’ eyes are zeroed in on the act, completely blown out and frozen on her fingers. 

“Uhm,” she murmurs and he snaps out of it, turning his body so fast that she would have surely fallen over if their roles were reversed. 

“Ah sorry!” He calls, now facing the wall. “I er–just wasn’t expecting that.” He continues to stare away from her, hands on his hips and leaning forward slightly as though he might be in pain. She continues to change, taking off her uniform and pulling the oversized shirt over her head. It’s long enough to cover down to her upper thigh, but she climbs under the covers anyway before letting him know the coast is clear. When he turns around again, he looks bashful—a full bloom of red covering his cheeks as his eyes naturally fall to the pile of her clothes on the floor.

“Feels better, thanks,” she calls out.

“Yeah…’course.”

With her head on a pillow, her body gets taken over by illness. The aches, the booming feeling in her head, the shivering cold all working together to make her want to disappear from the world entirely. From beyond the screen of her fever, she feels the edge of the bed dip from weight and can just barely make out the sound of his voice, talking low with someone else. 

“Yeah—she’s really unwell ...found her in the common room and she refused to go to Poppy…no, just tell everyone else to give her some space and maybe if you pass by pick up something for her to eat when she wakes—otherwise I’ll go in a bit….”

She hears the garbled responses of another voice, but they sound distant, as though coming from a telephone receiver. 

“...don’t be disgusting mate, she’s sick,” she hears James say, his voice flustered. “I’d do it for you too y’know….”

She misses the final exchanges, feeling the lull of sleep attempting to beat out the frigid feeling that continues to circle her like her own private blizzard. 

The loss of his weight on the bed rouses her again as he gets up. Her body reacts immediately, an endless chant of no no no spiraling through her. 

“Stay,” she calls out. From across the room his movement stalls. 

“It’s so bloody cold—I can’t stand it. Can you please just stay,” she tries again in earnest. There’s no response other than a padding of feet towards the bed, then the press of his weight now next to her. 

“You’re cold?” He murmurs, concerned. “ I have the fire running, but I can get more blankets—just give me…”

“No,” she says harder than before. She must be delirious, completely absolutely mental. There’s no other explanation for it, but the words bubble out anyhow.

“Can you just–come here?”

She scoots herself over on the bed, making just enough room to make her intention clear. She hears him swallow hard and the sound of his glasses landing on the bedside table before feeling something solid and warm press flush against her back. 

“Of course,” he says softly and arms wrap around her. She grabs onto them to hold them even tighter, wishing she could just melt into him where evidently all the warmth in the whole world has been hiding from her. His heart hammers at her back and she hears herself give a soft shhh to it–acting as though he is the one needing the comfort rather than her. 

“Is this ok?” He whispers. His lips are so close to her ear that his breath tickles her skin, but she is already drifting away, the sharp pain of cold subsiding and being filled with a delightful, encompassing warmth. The constant ache in her bones calming to just a dull memory as the room becomes darker and darker.

“Yes–you're perfect.” She thinks she hears a response but it's so far away it gets lost entirely. Pushing herself even closer to him, the calming wave of his breath and the smell of his clothes lull her deeper and deeper, until everything disappears entirely. 

* * * * *

It’s no longer warm—it's burning. Her eyes flutter open and outside the window the sun is ducking behind the mountains, taking the last of the daylight with it. Her t-shirt sticks to her, covered with sweat as she turns her body, only to freeze when something warm and heavy skims across her hip. 

An arm—and not hers. 

“Your fever broke about an hour ago,” a voice says softly behind her, a bit gruff with sleep. “I got you some wet washcloths for your head—you should probably drink something, you’ve been sweating for a while now.”

She twists around to see James’ eyes staring back with concern but not making any further movements to untangle himself. Instead, he reaches an arm behind him onto the bedside table and procures a white fabric that drips slightly onto the comforter. Without her permission, he begins dabbing at her face, eyes following his movements with precision as he softly presses the cloth into her hairline. She settles onto her back, the feel of the cold doing wonders to her skin and he pulls himself up to hover over her slightly, a hand holding at her waist while the other continues to work up and down her face and neck. 

If she lets herself ruminate on it for even a millisecond, it will become too much. 

“Better?” He whispers, hand stalling against her cheek. With the fever gone, she is all too aware of how close he is and has been for the past few hours. His shirt, his socks, his bed, him swallowing her like some James Potter vortex that, if she is being honest, would seem like a pretty spectacular place to be—if they weren’t just friends.

“Lots–thanks,” she murmurs. His hand moves to the other cheek and presses soft circles there. She leans into it, finally able to bask in the feel of his body against hers and the way his breath softly falls over her. 

“Do you do this for all your sick mates?” She asks, breaking the silence with a wry smile. 

He chuckles, hand still working against her skin. “Only the ones who deserve it—only the ones I’m especially fond of.”

Her heart clangs against her chest and she knows he can feel it. He stops again, dropping the rag by her side and going back to cup her chin. 

“What else do you need?”

It’s a far too dangerous question given the circumstances, but her hand moves on its own accord, wrapping around him to hold him there as though he might disappear if she lets go. 

“I don’t want to get you sick,” she musters out, “You’ve already done so much.”

“Then let me do more,” he says simply, eyes searching hers, the hand on her waist giving a soft squeeze.

“I want—” she begins, voice faltering. He hangs on her every word, eyes glittering from above her. There’s a thousand ways she could answer that sentence, each more true and raw than the last, but to say them now—now that they are finally getting along, finally mates— is a gamble she isn’t willing to make. 

“--I want you to stay here.”

His mouth goes into a straight line, then forms into a soft, eager smile. “Of course, Evans. Of course, no problem.” 

He settles back down next to her, a hand still cupping the side of her face and her eyes close, sleep already coming to take her away again. Even falling away, she can feel his eyes on her and pictures them clearly through the fog: gleaming and willing and unmistakably kind. She wonders if he can sense the double meaning in her words or if she is going to wake up again and find him gone, back to being just mates who talk and laugh and do nothing more. 

“Lily?” His voice cuts through the quiet, breath hot at her neck.

“Hm?” 

“Is it selfish of me to say I don’t want you to get better?” His voice sounds small but firm. “Is it selfish to say…I like having you here.”

It’s a bright, healing feeling that pulls him closer to her. 

“Not at all,” she whispers. Suddenly, she’s feeling a lot better now–maybe better than she ever has before. 

“It might even be the best thing for us.”

[kira-fluff]

hello! if its okay with you, i’d like to request fluff/comfort with mikey from tr. i’ve been in a mental slump lately and contrary to the whole “worst boyfriend” ranking, i feel like he’d be great at comfort if we gave him the chance :3

whatever you need - mikey sano x fem!reader

after getting let go, you'd been struggling. thank goodness for boyfriends. (fluff/comfort) tw: language, mental health struggles, getting fired a/n: i hope you've been feeling better as of late. just finished my last exam, i have a presentation tomorrow, but i'm not worried about it. thankfully finals are mostly over so i have time to write! thanks for requesting. i love me some mikey. worst boyfriend slander will not be tolerated!! i gotchu

you couldn't seem to catch a break. just when you thought you were crawling out of this hole you didn't even dig yourself, something (or someone) would push you down further. was there really a way out? nope. clearly not. of course you were fired. well, "let go" as he said. your asshole of a boss sat you in his office and said, "i'm afraid we're gonna have to let you go." like it was this sad, reluctant choice he simply had to make. a sacrifice. but you could tell by his expression he was anything but remorseful. the worst part was that the company was flooded with cash, and you'd not be prideful to say you were a major contributor in that success. so why were you let go? because the business was "expanding" and therefore, there needed to be "reprioritizations" made. which basically just means you weren't worth keeping on board the ship. probably because you're a woman and god forbid any female succeed in the workplace. whatever. fuck him. it was all so overwhelming anyway. your sleep schedule was - is - fucked. all the work you're putting in and was it even worth it?

you ignored the sense of dread pooling in your stomach whenever your eyes happened a glance on your bank app. funds weren't going to be coming in any time soon. sighing, you powered off your phone, chucking it to the side of your bed. before you realized it, a week had passed. a week of productivity? no. a week of bed-rotting. a week of napping, getting up to eat a few crackers, and then trudging back to sleep. it's what you deserved for busting your ass for an ungrateful corporation and an ungrateful piece of shit boss. you just wanted to close your eyes forever and forget about the world for a little bit. was that so wrong? mikey was gone visiting takemichi, so it's not like you needed to try to look cute. just a little longer. just a little longer.

-

you heard a faint thudding sound. you groaned and rolled over on your bed, covers twisted around your form, your hair tangled and knotted. the sound was getting louder. were you getting robbed? eh, what does it matter. it wasn't like you had anything of value in here anyway. covering your ears with your pillow, you burrowed deeper into your blankets, basking in their warmth. thankfully, the thudding noise stopped. it was probably just your dryer, which you're fairly certain is possessed by satan (not that you'd done laundry in... awhile.) your peace was short lived. suddenly, you heard a sound that was suspiciously akin to the bolt of your front door being unlocked. your eyes shot open, but you were too scared to move as you heard your front door burst open. maybe they won't know i'm here if i just lie still. maybe they'll think i'm dead. loud steps made a beeline for your room - a voice getting closer, mumbling something under their breath. if you got up now, the intruder would surely know. throwing the covers over your face, you hoped maybe they'd mistake you as some extremely large body pillow. the thief stopped at the entrance to your room. you held your breath, hoping he'd move on and maybe steal your microwave instead. could this month get any worse? there was an exasperated sigh. "what are you doing." it wasn't a question, more just a statement. and you recognized that voice. shit. what's the date today? the mystery intruder, you realized, was actually your boyfriend mikey. but he sounded kind of pissed. so... you decided to play dead a little longer. the loud thumps of his boots came closer to you and without warning, he ripped the covers off of your body before returning his hands to his pockets. his eyebrow raised in a mix of confusion and perhaps a bit of concern. he repeated, "what are you doing, y/n?" you blinked up at him slowly, your eyes trailing up and down his body. "you look nice. back from takemichi's?" he moved closer. "you weren't answering any of my calls or texts. couldn't even find your location. did you turn off your phone?" your brows furrowed in puzzlement. you looked around your room, realizing it had been at least a couple days since you'd last seen your phone, much less heard from it. you were shocked to find it lying next to you. pressing the power button, you watched the screen ignite back to life. "oh. sorry. turned it off. i was tired." his voice rose in frustration, "for how long? i tried to text you on monday and you didn't answer." you paused. "...what day is it today...?" mikey's eyebrows rose in worry. "it's sunday. i've been trying to get ahold of you for almost a week. y/n, what's going on?" you frowned, biting your lip to stop it from quivering and shook your head. don't cry. don't cry. don't cry.

"got fired. yay..." you said with no enthusiasm, your voice breaking at the end of your sentence. he blinked. "what? when?" "last friday. well, last last friday, i guess." his shoulders lowered and he let out a deep sigh, running his fingers through his hair. "shit, i was so worried i sounded like such an asshole just now. 'm sorry babe." slowly, he sat down next to you on your bed, shucking off his boots. "he didn't even give me a good reason. like, they're "expanding"?? doesn't that mean you can afford to keep your most loyal workers??" "i always fuckin' hated that guy." "i just--" you tried (and failed) to hold back a sob, "i just don't know what i could've done differently!" you cried, tears streaking down your cheeks. "it's not a 'you' problem, babe, it's their fucking loss." "but there had to have been something i did wrong!" "there isn't." "maybe i should've--" "hey, look at me. please?" you stopped midsentence, adjusting your gaze to meet his eyes for the first time. cupping your cheek in his palm he smiled sadly, "sometimes it's not you. sometimes there's nothing you coulda done better in a situation because you weren't the problem to begin with. and that's ok, because you don't deserve to be around piece of shit people like that anyway, ya know?" "i know, but--" "but nothing. i know i can't convince you, but i want you to know that i think you deserve the fucking moon. i'd get it for you if you asked. somehow." you laughed wetly, "well, you do have connections." a corner of his mouth turned up. "yeah." his voice was uncharacteristically soft as he pulled a strand of your hair back behind your ear. "and 'm gonna take care of you know, you know that. whatever you want. whatever you need tonight. i'll make it happen, ok?" "it's just... what i need is a job, and i've just been lazing around all week and i don't even know where to start..." without a moments hesitation he said, "work for me." "but wouldn't that be--" "i'm the boss, i make my own rules. shit, you don't even have to work. like i said, i'll take care of you." "no, no i want to work. but i'm probably not qualified enough to work for you..." "who says?" "well, you haven't even looked at my resume...isn't that, i don't know, kind of nepotism-ish?" mikey grinned. "yeah, because everyone else that works for me got their jobs through hard work." "ok, ok, but...thank you. ok." you sighed. "it's gonna be ok. 'm here now."

-

mikey truly meant it when he said he'd take care of you. as soon as he helped dry your tears, he got your into your bathtub and helped you wash up, gently massaging shampoo and conditioner into your scalp while you scrubbed soap on your arms. he sprinkled light kisses on your forehead and cheeks as he helped you dry off. when you finally settled back into bed, cozy and clean, mikey was right there by your side. not ten minutes later, your favorite chocolate and ice cream was delivered to your door. when you turned back to say thank you, he waved you off, gesturing you to come back to your bed so you both could watch a movie. in the best way, mikey helped you forget. or at least let go. in a way. you spend the rest of the weekend binging your favorite shows. what others might not suspect is just how physical mikey is in his affection. he was showed more than told, and it was the same in his love for you. in those moments you spent together, he clung to your side, as if he had to have at least some part of his body touching yours at all times. when at last he had to leave to go back to his penthouse to "make some calls" (you suspected he had mountains of work to do), he'd already tried to convince you at least a dozen times to move in with him, which you staunchly refused because 1) you can't afford to help pay for whatever the hell he pays to live in a fucking penthouse and 2) you're not about to freeload. but as he said his final goodbye with a chaste kiss on your lips, you wondered if maybe you could finally give in and let someone take a little more care of you, after all, he'd shown you just what it felt like to not have to worry so much about your own needs.

-

back at his penthouse, mikey quickly dialed a familiar number. "hey. it's me. yeah. think you can take care of it for me?" there was a pause. "i don't care what you do to him so long as it's painful." another pause. "make sure to keep this underwraps. remember, it's all an 'accident'. if you can't do it, i'll go take care of it myself. bye."

a/n: mmm protective mikey y'all

[rabesbabe]

intertwined, sewn together

Cassandra Webb x Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend, Cassie, has been away from you for too long. And now that she’s finally back around you she feels like you’re not giving her the attention she deserves. (alludes to smut but no actual smut)

Requests: Open!

A/N: I wanted to write a little bit of some insecure Cassie soo here’s that. Readers a little idiot in this but they get better towards the middle I swear. I hope you guys like this sorry for my shitty writing as usual!

Cassie rolled her eyes. She sat on the couch in the apartment you and her shared. She sipped at her wine while watching you laugh at a joke your friend, or so you said, made.

Your friend was gorgeous, she had brown eyes, freckles, blonde hair and somehow always looked like she came straight from the beach. So basically the exact opposite of your girlfriend, Cassie Webb.

Deep down Cassandra knew she shouldn’t be jealous. You were deeply devoted to her and she knew you’d never do anything to ruin your relationship. But, her surface feelings were greater than what her mind was telling her.

I mean, she had just gotten home from a week long trip to Peru and the most you had said to her since your friend arrived was “Good Morning”.

She couldn’t stand the sight of watching you two giggle while drinking wine and talking. Maybe she could’ve tried to join in the conversation but instead she got up suddenly and went into your shared room. She’d rather not watch her girlfriend be stolen away from her. So, instead she decided to go to sleep.

“Is she okay?” Your friend, Grace, said. You slightly raise your shoulders as if to shrug. And you look at her with a puzzled face. You had no idea why Cassie walked off so abruptly.

“It is getting late i’m sure she’s probably just tired,” You say looking down at your wrist checking the time.

“You’re right I should probably go home anyway.” Says the blonde.

“Sounds good i’ll see you later Grace.” You give her a sympathetic smile goodbye as she exits your apartment.

As you clean up the left over dishes you smile at the thought of finally being able to go to sleep next to your girlfriend after her being gone for so long.

But first you had to make sure she was okay.

Cassie has never really been a people person. So, you just assume that maybe having company drained her social battery faster than usual.

You walk over to your room to check on her.

“Cassie?” You say lightly before entering the room.

You take in the sight of her. She’s basically buried under the covers with just her head peaking out. She looks cute and you almost wish you could take a picture of her, but you knew better.

You sit down on the bed next to her and lift the covers up. “Are you okay babe?” You ask, while reaching over to fix her lopsided bangs.

She pushes your hand away from her face and mumbles out a barely audible “Yeah.” She turns away from you and pulls the covers back over herself.

You frown at her reaction and wonder if maybe she just doesn’t want to talk about whatever’s bothering her. Sometimes it takes her a while to open up and you wanted to respect that.

“Do you want to watch a movie maybe?” You ask hoping that maybe the topic change and the idea of relaxing together would cheer her up.

To your surprise she sits up and moves from under the covers. Glaring at you she snaps out, “Why? Wouldn’t you rather watch a movie with your friend Grace? I wouldn’t want to interrupt you guys ‘quality time.’” She says emphasizing the words quality time.

You widen your eyes at her accusation and even though she’s upset she moves closer to you silently begging for your attention. You finally start to realize that maybe, just maybe she was jealous.

You smile at her in a teasing way. She rolls her eyes at you, “What?” She says, struggling to stay mad at you when you have such a goofy smile on your face.

“Are you upset? About Grace and I hanging out?” You ask.

Cassie sighs and looks down realizing she was a little bit harsh. “No, It’s not her fault,” She shrugs “I guess I just wished you were paying attention to me and not her. I mean I haven’t seen you for a week. It’s like you didn’t miss me at all.” She admits running her hands through her hair.

“Cassie,” You whisper, not knowing what to say to her. You look at her and frown at how sad her beautiful blue eyes look. “I didn’t mean to make you feel ignored, you know I missed you. I spent the whole week thinking about when i’d be able to see you next,” She looks up at you, hopeful.

“I’m sorry my love. My focus should’ve been on you tonight.”

You lean into her for a hug and she opens herself up to you, accepting your apology.

She softly kisses you and when you pull back you notice a small blush over her cheeks.

“I missed you so much.” She admits.

“I missed you too Cassie.” You say and you lean back in to kiss her. This time more passionate than the last. She moves her hands down to your waist. Lightly trying to move your shirt up and you giggle. You pull away from her. “Ohh so you said all of that just to get lucky huh? Wow.” You say sarcastically.

She looks at you and laughs, slightly out of breath from kissing you. “You’re such an asshole.” She says, smiling through bruised lips.

“I know.” You say with a smile.

[youaintnothinbuta]

“Hey now, don’t you start questioning me too.” — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: your mama is pretty insistent (in a loving, supportive way) on you and Elvis making it serious and going steady with him, but you’re not at that point yet. His is too, and you talk about it on the phone after you hang out. Part 2 here

Pairing: Elvis or Austin!elvis x reader

Word count: 600

Warnings: fluff!! Probably typos though SORRY

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You had just gotten home from your evening with Elvis, the warmth of your home chasing away the chill of the cold evening. With a contented sigh, you shrug off your coat and hang it neatly on the rack.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Your dad called to you from the living room, hearing you come in. Both of your parents were sitting on the couch watching tv.

“Hi mama, hi daddy.” You replied cheerfully, kicking your shoes off by the door before going to the living room to join them.

“I put your clean washing on your bed, darling, it just needs to be put away.” Your mom informed you with a warm smile.

“Oh, thank you,” you replied gratefully.

“Not a problem. Are those flowers by your bed from Elvis?” she inquired with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, they are,” you smiled, feeling a blush creep up on your cheeks.

“What’s the occasion? Did we forget your birthday?” Your dad teased, playfully.

You laughed, “no occasion. Just because, I guess.”

“Mmm,” your mother hummed, “are you two going steady then?” She prodded further.

“Mom! No.” You rolled your eyes blithely.

“Oh, well, I’m sure he’ll ask you soon. How was your date, anyway?” Your mom teased you some more, as you sunk down on the couch beside her.

“It wasn’t really a date, we were just hanging out.”

“Did he kiss ya? That’s a date if he did.”

“Mama stop!” Your cheeks burnt bright red, “enough with the questions,” you say, trying to deflect her curiosity. “I promise, if anything changes between me and Elvis, you’ll be the first to know.”

Your mom laughs, a knowing glint in her eye. “Oh, I’m sure I’d find out sooner or later,” she says with a nudge. “His mama and I have a way of keeping each other informed.”

You shake your head, unable to suppress a smile at the thought of the close bond between your two families. Despite the teasing and the questions, you know that your parents only want the best for you, and their support means the world to you.

Later that night you sat in bed, on the phone to Elvis.

You leaned back against your pillow, “Oh, she’s relentless! Next she’ll wanna know what color panties I wear, and how many minutes we spend making eye contact,” you joked, recounting the evening’s playful interrogation to Elvis.

He chuckled softly on the other end of the line, “mine wan’t much better. Mama keeps hollering and nagging at me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “Well, what did you tell her?” you pressed, unable to resist the temptation to know.

“Hey now, don’t you start questioning me too,” Elvis teased, his voice filled with mock indignation, “I just told her ‘When the time’s right, whatever happens will happen.’”

Your heart twisted a little at his vague response, but you chose to ignore it. The two of you chatted for a while longer, exchanging stories and sharing laughter over inside jokes. Eventually, though, it was time to say your goodnights.

“I wish I could be there with you right now,” Elvis murmured softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I know, Elvis. I wish you were here too,” you replied, feeling a pang of sadness.

It was hard to get to sleep that night. You couldn’t stop thinking about that vague, non-answer he gave. You really were hoping he’d give you a hint that he did want something serious with you. Eventually though, you managed to drift off, your overthinking tiring you out.

Little did you know, he was very purposeful in leading you astray, not wanting you to have the slightest idea he was planning on making it official very soon.

Anyone up for a part 2 where he asks you to go steady finally??

[bigtreefest]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Ransom + kiss on the cheek + “You smell good.”

Meet the Parents

Boyfriend! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 1,998

A/N: The Shameless Hoe Fairy? At my doorstep? What a surprise!! I was so excited to write this prompt, and hope I did Ransom justice.

Drabble? I don’t know her. I’ll call this a double Drabble based off word count?

Warnings: probably the most suggestive fic I’ve written, so just to be safe, minors DNI, allusions to smut, schmoozing but it’s actually so genuine, family, L-bomb, nickname/pet name usage

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You had spent two weeks coaching Ransom to meet your family. After a long phone call with your mom on the way home from work, she insisted you bring him over for dinner.

“Family should know everything about each other.” She insisted. You rolled your eyes and hummed in response. At this point, you knew that sometimes there was no fighting her and you just had to say whatever she wanted to hear.

“Okay, mom. I’ll talk to him about it, but to be fair, I haven’t even met his parents yet. Anyway, I’m pulling into my place right now. I’ve gotta let you go.” Your hand hovered over the keys in the ignition, eager to take them out as soon as she’d say goodbye.

“I don’t know why you’re kicking me off the phone so soon, but okay. We’ll plan it out for him to come over soon. Love you, bye.”

“Love you, too. Bye, mom.” You turned off the car and scooped up your bag and keys, heading inside.

As soon as you hit the kitchen, you flailed your arms out, dropping all your stuff on the island. You and Ransom had plans for him to come over and cook with you tonight, but after that call, there was no way that was gonna happen. You could only allocate your energy towards so much at a time.

You had considered asking Ransom if he wouldn’t mind doing the majority of the work for the meal tonight since the two of you had picked up the groceries over the weekend, but quickly thought better. You were already exhausted, no need to add a kitchen cluttered with dirty dishes and burnt food to the list.

You picked up your phone from the mess you made and called Ransom, surprised it only took one ring before he picked up.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I’m on the way over now. You better have a good recipe up your sleeve, because I’m driving through a row of restaurants and the scent is heavenly.” You wanted to laugh but your body felt too weighed down.

“About that, Ran. Can there be a change of plans? I know I said I’d teach you a new recipe tonight, but I have next to no energy left. Will you actually just pick something up? Your choice.”

The line went silent for a beat before you had to pull the phone away from your ear at Ransom’s boisterous response. “THANK GOD. Yes, I’ll do that. Be there in 20.”

And with that he hung up the phone and you flopped down on the couch waiting for him to arrive.

Ransom’s knock on your door jerked you awake. You responded with a rasp. “It’s open.”

He made his way over to you and set down the bags of food on your coffee table.

“Hi, Ranny.” You smiled up at him, your eyes still half lidded with sleep.

Ransom reached for your hands, draping them over the back of his neck as he crouched over you, eventually lowering himself down so his head was on your chest, the rest of his broad form blanketing you on the couch. You kissed the top of his head and stroked his hair as he mumbled through his squished cheeks. “What’s got you all like…this?” He gestured to your face without looking up.

He still wasn’t that great at expressing his care for the emotions of others, but for you, he was trying. You sighed and patted his shoulders.

“Food first, then I’ll tell you.”

You pushed back your takeout box on the coffee table and finally looked up at Ransom. He had been eyeing you skeptically the whole meal, leaning against the bottom of the couch, both of you sitting on the floor, as he ate his own food. It wasn’t like him to be that quiet. He must’ve been worried.

“Hi.” You softly whispered to him, looking back into his piercing gaze.

“Hi. You wanna tell me what’s going on now?” He returned with a gentle sternness in his tone.

You nodded, your shoulders rolling back as you built up the courage to address this big of a topic. “My parents want to meet you.”

Ransom’s jaw stopped chewing his food. He set down his utensils and swallowed, shifting to put his elbows on the table to look at you. “Okay… what’s so wrong with that? Parents love me.”

You grimaced, you really liked him, but didn’t want to subject your relationship to the gauntlet of your family.

“Nothing, really, it’s just, my parents are very traditional. Like, super religious and conservative.”

Ransom continued to look at you intently, nodding slowly. “So what exactly are you saying? I wouldn’t be approved by your parents?”

“No! I’m not saying that at all, I just want to make sure they see how great you are. They tend to judge harshly and quickly. The first time I brought a guy home, they literally said, ‘Yeah, I think you’d be better as friends. Let him down easy.’ And I never saw him again because couldn’t handle their disappointed faces every time I mentioned his name. I don’t want to have to go through that with you- no, I can’t go through that with you because I love you and you’re it for me.”

Ransom’s eyes went wide. That was the first time you had said it and he was surprised by how quotidian it seemed. Like you should’ve been saying it this whole time. Your eyes went wide as well with surprise at what had slipped out as his face morphed into a grin. It wasn’t shit-eating or mischievous, it was full of love and… lust?

“Get over here.” You silently scooted around the coffee table on your knees and made your way to Ransom as he reached his arms out and guided you into his lap. He pulled you close so your noses were touching, his long eyelashes fluttering along your cheeks as you whimpered.

“Let me show you how much I love you. I’ll savor you right here and treat you like the only woman on Earth, because you’re it for me, too.” Ransom made a move to press his lips against yours, but you pulled back.

“Wait, Ran. There’s something I have to tell you first.” His eyes darted in between yours with concern.

“My parents still think I’m a virgin.” His shoulders dropped as he looked at you incredulously, head cocked to the side.

“Is that it? I mean, we both know you’re far from pure already if I’ve got anything to say about it.” The corner of his mouth turned up and you hid your head in his neck. You pulled back, pushing your hands against his shoulders to keep distance so you could focus enough to get the rest of the information out.

“Just, with everything I told you, there are some household rules we’ll have to follow.”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, kissing a trail up your forearm.

“Ran, I mean it. No kissing around them, not on the lips at least. Forehead and cheek only.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He continued, kissing his way up the other arm.

“Seriously, and no inappropriate touching, or private conversations in a separate room.”

His trail continued up your neck. “Is that all?”

You sighed and tilted your head back, closing your eyes. “You probably have to bring a bottle of wine. And flowers for my mom and sister.” You meant to sound stern, but it came out as more of a gasp.

“Consider it done, sweetheart.” He moved up your cheek, then leaned in for a deep kiss that left you breathless.

Two weeks later, you were staying at your parents’ house for a long weekend. They had come to pick you up, and Ransom was going to drive you back home after the meal so you could go to work the next morning. Letting Ransom stay over would probably never be a thought in their mind until the two of you were married, so he was only coming over for Sunday night dinner.

You were nervous and hoped his weeks of prep had been taken to heart. On a normal day with Ransom, he was all over you, so you had no idea how he was going to keep his hands to himself, if only for a few hours.

You had told him your parents valued punctuality, too, having met in the military, so you were delighted to hear the doorbell at 5:15 when they’d told him to be there at 5:30.

You ran down the steps and opened the door to be greeted by your boyfriend holding two bouquets and a bottle of wine as your mother followed closely behind you. Ransom was looking more handsome than usual, if that was even possible, with his signature sweater and carefully styled hair. You preferred it floofy and a little messy, as it was most mornings, but it was perfect for your mom to see him.

Ransom handed you the bottle of wine as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “You look beautiful, Sweetheart.” You blushed and gestured toward your mom with your free hand.

“Mom, this is Ransom, Ransom, I’d like you to mee-“

Before you could even finish the introduction, she cut you off. “Mom, you can call me Mom, dear. It’s so great to meet you.” Ransom laughed and handed her a bouquet of flowers with charm before she pulled him in for a hug. You raised your eyebrows in surprise at the greeting. You’d never seen her be this welcoming before, even when your sister brought her husband home for the first time. Ransom looked over his shoulder at you and winked as your mother dragged him into the living room to meet the rest of the family.

You made your way to the kitchen with the bottle of wine, catching your dad who was finishing up the meal.

“Hey Dad, Ransom just got here. Need any help finishing up?” He looked up from the pot he was stirring and squinted to read the label on the bottle of wine in your hands.

“Ah, that’s a good one. Why don’t you pull out some glasses and open it up so we can get it airing. Would you be a dear and help me take this all out to the table? I’m gonna go introduce myself.”

You nodded and got to work running the dishes out to the dining room.

Dinner with Ransom went off without a hitch. He was a perfect gentleman without it seeming forced, engaging in conversation with your family with ease. Every topic he brought up complimented you and touched on your best moments with each other, your sister and her husband chiming in on their similar experiences and your parents looking at the two of you with approval and admiration.

When it was time to go, your parents made you each a bag full of leftovers, insisting you’d both have dinners for the whole week. You smiled and happily took them, waving goodbye until they closed the door behind you. Ransom grabbed your hand, still keeping a respectful amount of distance between your bodies before walking you to the other side of his Beamer. He opened the passenger door for you before he grabbed the bag of food out of your hands and placed it in the back along with his. He leaned into the car, finally out of the line of sight of your parents’ windows as he buckled you into your seat. As he leaned back, he kissed you on the cheek again before nosing against your neck.

“You smell good. So good I almost went crazy when I first got here.” He pulled back, pupils blown with lust, swallowing his icy irises, as he leaned in with his arm resting against the roof of the car.

“Now let’s take you home so I can take you apart.”

Part 2

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 3 : (Caramel Apple) Stu Macher

Here is day 3 of Fictober! As always I hope you all enjoy today's installment of Fictober. There's much more to come. Notes: Minors DNI, Canon typical violence / Whatever else if there is any.

Support me: KO-FI

"Goddamnit Stu, I told you that wasn't funny"

"Babe I said I was sorry. Me and Billy were just fuckin' around"

"You and Billy are always just fucking around"

Stu rolled his eyes, he had been over this with you many times before.

"Hey you knew what me and Billy did since the start, don't go throwing it back in my face now"

It was your turn to roll your eyes, sure you had known but that didn't mean you had to like it. With attention on the Ghostface ramping up Stu was seemingly spending nearly all his free time with Billy carefully planning out how carry out kill after kill without getting caught.

"I know that Stu, but the goddamn principal ? You and Billy could've gotten caught and because I know about you two I'm gonna go down too"

"You really think if me and Bill ever got caught that we'd throw you under the bus?"

"I know you wouldn't...Billy not so much"

Stu sighed, running a hand over the top of his head. You and Billy had an...interesting relationship to say the least. When you and Stu had first started dating, you and Billy were cordial sure but would never be best friends.

As the months progressed and Billy realized you weren't going anywhere he started to grow more semi trusting but still standoffish. Here recently something had changed, Billy was starting to almost grow hostile, as if he was expecting that any day now you'd turn him and Stu in to the police.

"Babe I told you Billy-"

"I know what you said Stu, You trust Billy but that only goes so far...you and I both know if Billy had to throw even you under the bus to save himself that he would."

"Oh c'mon, have a little more stock in Billy, I mean sure me and him have our moments but we're in this together. He wouldn't do that."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night Stu"

You remark before starting to turn and walk away. Stu quickly catches up to you and matches your pass as he walks beside you.

"Look" he sighs "I know you've never been a fan of the Ghostface thing, and I know these days especially Billy doesn't make you feel any better about it but I want you to trust me ok?"

"Stu, trusting you isn't the thing I have an issue with and you know it."

"I know I know, but I want you to trust me about Billy ok? I know what I'm doing and if he did try anything...you think I don't have contingencies set up for that?"

"Wow contingencies, that's a five dollar word for you Stu"

"That's rude as fuck."

Stu rolls his eyes but grins anyway, throwing a loose arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk. Stu steers you away from the parking lot where you would usually pile in with your friends and go home. He turns you in the direction of Billy and his car.

'Stu-"

"Shhhh, I said trust me remember?"

Billy Loomis was the last person you wanted to see right now, especially after the previous conversation with Stu. But you knew Stu wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Stu leads you from behind with his hands now on your shoulders up to Billy who's leaning against his car. The two of you stop right in front of Billy.

"You two, have some bonding to do"

Both you and Billy turn to Stu with confused expressions"

"Babe-"

"Stu c'mon man-"

Stu hushes the both of you before either of you can start to bitch about the predicament.

"No, you are my best friend and my partner. I want you two to get along and trust each other, that's why we're going to have a family Ghostface night!"

You freeze, eyes flicking between Stu and Billy.

"Stu....no"

"That's not the right answer baby"

"Stu I'm not helping you two kill someone"

"Why not?" Billy chimes in "Afraid that if we get caught you'll be an accessory?"

"N-no, I- I just-"

"Babe you want to be able to trust Billy and he wants to be able to trust you. This will help with that."

Billy looks at you rather smugly with a smile gracing his face.

"Yeah babe, give it a try and join the club."

You thought for a moment, you really, really thought. Stu did have a point, life would be so much easier if you and Billy could easily trust each other. Sure you were never gonna be best friends but mutual trust would help.

Plus if you were honest with yourself you probably could in some sense already go down as an accessory to Ghostface, unless you had trust in Billy that he wouldn't rat you out....Fuck it.

"Fine"

Billy and Stu look as you with raised eyebrows, almost as if they didn't expect you to agree to be apart of their grand plan.

"Wow, look at you" Billy remarks as Stu cackles and throws an arm around your shoulders once more.

"But...first, who are you guys even going after?" A question you'd live to regret.

Billy and Stu shared an almost sinister look between the two of them before both speaking at the same time. Saying only one name.

"Sidney Prescott"