#cam n patches

[crazyk-imagine]

Hi, I was thinking Jacob Black x Reader. Where Jacob was waiting for Reader to come out of school till he heard commotion in front of the school and saw Reader fighting a bully who is a guy. She has a bruised lip and bleeding nose. Jacob hurriedly pick up Reader and take her to Emily’s so she can chill out and so Emily can patch her up. The pack saw her and they started asking questions till Emily started lecturing her.

Jealousy and Pack Scolding's

Pairing: Jacob Black x Uley!reader

Characters: Jacob Black, Uley!reader, Paul Lahote, Jared Cameron, Embry Call, Leah Clearwater, Seth Clearwater, Quil Ateara V, Brady Fuller, Collin Littlesea

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Paul being an idiot, Sam not liking the imprinting, this was actually kind of cute, I think I made Jake a likable character (for me), Emily is an angel, Sam and Emily are my fav, reader has avoided making eye contact with Jake bc she has a crush, Sam knows whats up, Embry just wants his imprint, Paul is such a big brother here, love writing for the wolfpack, it's so much fun, reader knows about imprints

Word Count: 2,431

A/N: Ask and you shall receive... this was fun and totally not inspired by Jake fics where he's a little jealous shit

I've aged probably everyone sooo, Sam is 26, Emily is 25. Leah is 23. Jared and Paul are 19 (in a nearby community college) and just one semester from graduating. Jake, Reader and Embry are 18. Quil, Seth, Brody are 17. Cam and Seth are 16

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He kicks his bike stand up, so it stays upright while he waits for you to exit the school. He crosses his arms, not wanting anyone to talk to him, hoping he looks “menacing” enough for his classmates to get the hint and steer clear of him.

He knows Quil and Embry made their way back to Emily's since Sam wants them to do their patrol shift as soon as they can once they finished with their last class.

He couldn't complain much considering he was able to go home and change before heading back to pick you up so he could successfully switch shifts with Embry, which annoys him since Sam basically ordered him to pick you up.

He’d be more okay with it if you two were friends- or even talking; he doesn’t know why he was put to the job since you two aren’t close- or at least, compared to Jared and Paul.

Jake did recently find out (after complaining to the guys when their alpha wasn’t around) you’re Sam's niece and Emily has taken a light to you, thinking of you as her own daughter.

And the only reason he thinks that is because of how she treats you; it always reminds him of the way his mom took care of him and his sisters when they were younger.

Don't get him wrong, he has no problem with that or the way she treats you, he's more curious than anything since you haven't been talking to him.

It kind of bugs him that you talk to Paul and Jared more than him and isn't sure why. He gets the two shifted before everyone, but you've started talking to Embry and Quil so why not him too? Hell, you’ve even started making small talk with the newest shifters Brady and Collin.

He thinks this is why Sam sent him here, so he'll stop moping around about you and not just because the pack is tired of hearing how sad he is with you not talking to him.

The chanting, "fight, fight, fight," overtakes his sense in waiting for you and he steps closer.

He stops behind the wall of people, checking on who's fighting, curious as to who's stupid enough to fight on school property.

The fist flies to your face and he starts fighting his way to get past the people blocking him from getting to you.

You spit, not wanting the copper taste to remain in your mouth. You turn your head back to David, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of feeling like he won.

You kick his upper thigh, right above his knee and knock him down before pulling your arm back and drive your fist as hard as you can into his cheek.

He falls and cups his cheek, whining about the pain and the fact that he's bleeding.

"Talk about my family again and you'll be bleeding more."

Jacob finally breaks through the crowd and pushes David's friend away before the guy could grab you. "Back off," he growls.

The friend raises his hands in defense and backs away, noticing how buff he'd gotten and knows better to not fight Jacob.

He turns to you, smelling blood on you and cups your face, searching to find the damage, ignoring your eyes as the blood from your lip drips further down your chin. "Come on."

He puts you on the back of his bike and starts it before kicking the kickstand.

-

You unwrap your arms and get off the bike, trying to put distance between you, Jacob, and your home.

He grabs your wrist, "where do you think you're going?"

"Away."

"Just because you want to hide your face from Emily and Sam, doesn't mean you can run away."

"I can still try." You tug on his arm. "Let me go."

"No, you need to go in there and face them."

You stop fighting and he lets go of you, trusting that you won't leave. "I don't want Sam to be disappointed."

"Did you pick a fight with David on purpose?"

You shake your head, "of course not."

"Then he won't be disappointed... as long as you talk to him."

"Says the guy who fights him every chance he gets."

That earns a chuckle from Jake. "Says the mousy niece."

You scoff, shoving his arm. "Hey, I'm not mousy."

"This is the longest conversation we've ever had."

"That's your fault, you're always mopey."

"I am not."

"Are so."

"Am-"

-

You walk through the door.

Emily's voice interrupts yours and everyone else's conversations. "I'm happy to see the two of you are talking." She smiles with a twinkle shining in her eye that quickly dies as soon as she catches sight of your face.

"Oh my- what the hell happened to you?" She grabs your chin, tilting so she can look at your face. "Who did this?"

Paul tenses, Jared tries to see over her shoulder.

Embry and Quil walk through the back door and glance at one another with concern evident on their faces once they realize what’s happened.

"Don't tell, Sam," you reply, staring into her eyes, practically begging her not to tell him.

"Don't tell me what?"

You grimace and then wince because your adrenaline has worn off and the pain has surfaced. "How much I love you?" You say without turning.

"I don't buy it." He wraps an arm around Emily, pecking her cheek. "Did you cut your finger again?" He asks with the scent of blood wafting through the room.

"Uh-" She catches your eye as she glances down at her hands. "Maybe, I don't know."

You attempt to sneak away while he's distracted and fail.

"Turn around."

You pout, keeping your head low as you turn.

"Lift your head."

"I like staring at my shoes while they're clean."

He grumbles your name under his breath.

You lift your head and sigh. "I may have gotten into an altercation at school."

"What the hell happened?"

"That's what I was asking before you got here?" Emily chimes in.

"And I was avoiding it then."

"What did you do?"

You scoff, "I didn't do anything, you dick."

"That is no way to talk to your uncle," she tells you.

You stare at her, "I'm going to give him the same respect he gives me," and turn to him. "Which is none."

You exit the room when you realize none of you are going to be able to have a proper conversation and make your way to your room, slamming the door behind you.

-

"What happened while you were waiting for her?" Sam towers over Jacob, attempting to search through his mind to figure out what could have happened.

"I don't- I don't know. I was waiting and then I heard the other kids chanting, fight and then I saw her get hit and then take down David-"

"Wait- she was fighting David?" Jared chimes in with a smile.

"He deserves it," Paul adds.

"Guys a grade A asshole," Embry says before snacking on a muffin.

"So, this fight was valid?" Sam asks, wanting to understand everything he's learned within the last five minutes.

"No, it wasn't valid because fighting isn't the solution, is it boys?" Emily turns to the boys at the table.

"No," everyone answers.

"Good," she smiles.

"But this hasn't happened before? What's happened? This David- or whoever clearly said something for her to act out."

"He was talking about my family," you tell them, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed.

"That doesn't give you enough reason to fight," she tells you.

"It does when they start making fun of your dead parents and uncle who's running a cult."

They purse their lips.

"How do you feel?"

You shrug, "my fist and face are aching, so I'd say I did something right."

She sighs. "Fighting isn't the answer."

"I know that!"

"Then why did you do it?"

Your emotions cause you to snap. "I was tired of him thinking he could still bully me!"

She takes a few steps closer to you. "This has been going on for a while now. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't want either of you to walk into the principal's office thinking you could stop it when it'd only make things worse," you grumble.

"We could have found another way to stop him from making comments."

"I took care of it the only way I could."

"There's always more than one way-"

"I know," you run your fingers through your hair in a frustrated manner. "I wasn't thinking but he wouldn't shut up. He waited a few months, giving me a grievance period but then he started talking shit again and today he wouldn't leave me alone."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Jared asks.

"Yeah," you scoff, "because I wanted you guys to help when the hothead is one fight away from being expelled. Everyone still thinks those two," you point to Embry and Quil. "Are weird because they suddenly got buff and had a haircut. Don't even mention the fact that Jake along with Brady and Collin are the new talk of the pack."

Sam sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Just, go clean the blood off as best you can, and Emily will wrap your wounds."

"I already did."

"Then go get the first aid kit and bring it in here."

You walk back into the bathroom throwing everything you’d laid out on the counter back into the bag and aim for the kitchen. "Heal me with your magical powers, Em."

She smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulders as she guides you to the island so she can use the natural light to check over you. "Does this hurt?"

"Not yet."

"Okay, let me know when it-"

You suck in a deep breath through your teeth.

"Hurts. You okay?"

"Peachy, Em."

"I know you had to defend yourself today, but fighting isn't always the answer."

"Yeah, I know," you reply with an attitude.

"I'm just reminding you, so you don't continue hurting yourself. You're not like the others, and I don't like seeing you get hurt."

"Thanks, Emily," you wrap your arms around her and pull her in for a long hug.

She smiles, returning the hug. "Don't go getting into fights again or else I'm going to bubble wrap you."

You chuckle. "As long as you save me from a Sam lecture."

"Deal." She slides the plate with muffins, closer to you. "Eat something first."

The guys shake their heads at your behavior.

"Does this mean I can hang out with you guys?"

"You hang out with us already," Jacob points out.

"Cliff diving." You unwrap your muffin.

"Absolutely not," your uncle tells you.

"Come on."

"No,” Sam shakes his head.

"Guys," you beg, turning around to look at the others.

"We're not getting involved in that," Paul raises his hands, heading towards the couch.

- Extra -

"Wha-"

"I'm with Paul," Embry tells you, pulling Quil with him as they sit beside Jared.

You turn to face your knight in shining armor. “Jake-”

He turns away from the others and glances back at you, the humor falling from his face.

“Oh, shit,” Jared mutters.

“Are you serious?” Embry whines.

You owlishly blink trying to figure out what’s happened when he falls to his knees. You set your muffin down and push yourself off the stool to stand in front of him. You poke his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“It’s you,” he mutters.

You raise your head and face the others with a scared and confused expression. “Guys, what the hell just happened?”

Paul smirks and looks away.

Jared buries his face with a muffin.

Embry and Quil face the tv, not wanting to see how things plays out.

Brady and Collin walk through the door.

“Holy shit,” the former says.

“Congrats, Jake. You finally got your imprint,” the latter adds.

“What?” You spin around to face Emily. “Imprint? That’s what just happened?”

Sam rubs a hand over his face. This was the last thing they needed.

“Did we- did you not know?” Brady asks you.

“Does this look like the face of someone who’s in the know? Does it. Brady?”

Collin pulls his buddy away before you can rip their heads off.

“I think we need to talk,” Sam says, pulling Jacob off the ground. “Outside.”

You three stand on the porch, trying to wrap your heads around the whole situation.

-

“I don’t know what this means,” you tell them.

“This means, no being alone in your room. No sneaking out after curfew. No-”

“Sam, we’re not dating. This doesn’t apply to us.”

“It could,” he says, finally snapping out of his mind.

“What?”

“It- the imprint bond doesn’t happen by accident, it’s the joining of when two soulmates find each other.”

“So, we’re soulmates?”

He nods.

“I thought you were in love with Bella?”

“I was.”

“And now you’re not? You couldn’t have moved on that fast just because of this bond.”

He sighs, “I know this is going to be a lot of work, but I want to get to know you whether we go out or not… even though dating you-”

The clearing of someone’s throat cuts him off.

He sheepishly smiles, rubbing the back of his head. “We’ll talk more later.”

You can’t help but giggle and wince soon after.

He’s kneeling in front of you in seconds, searching for any sign of pain. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. My lip is going to be the kill joy of my existence for a few days but I’m fine.” You place a hand on his shoulder, “thanks for pulling me out of there when you did.”

He shakes his head, “it was nothing.”

“It was more than you know, and I know you were only there because Uncle Sam made you, but I still wanted to thank you.”

He can’t help the wide smile that stretches across his lips. “I’ll always be there for you.”

-

Sam throws you over his shoulder. “Babe, where’s the extra wood I keep for the winter?”

“Back room, why?” She asks, watching as you beat on his back.

“I’m locking some doors.”

“Sam, no!” You screech. “Boys, help me.”

“He’s the alpha, what he says go,” Paul tells you.

“You suck, Lahote.”

“You’re gonna be swallowing, princess.”

Paul has never shifted and ran out of his alpha’s place as quickly as he did today.

The others lose their minds as he runs all around, nearly bumping into the clearwater siblings as they head towards the place.

-

Continue to: Part II

-

Tag list (if you'd like to be added or removed, don't hesitate to ask)

@kmc1989 @gilbertgirl13

[dearlenore]

NOW OR NEVER. / T.BRADFORD / SUMMARY - Life is too short for Tim Bradford to not propose..

PAIRING: police!reader x tim bradford / w/c: 1.3k / comfort

a/n: this was such a cute request tysm! / anon’s request here

The weight of the black velvet box burned a hole in Tim’s pocket. He had carried it for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment. Waiting for the right time to ask the person he loved to be his fiancée. To spend the rest of their lives together.

It wasn’t nerves that had stopped him. It wasn’t doubt, either. Tim Bradford was a decisive man. He didn’t hesitate when making tactical decisions in the field, and he certainly wasn’t hesitating now. He wanted you. A future with you.

The two of you had been dating for almost a year, and every moment had reinforced that you were the person he wanted by his side. The laughter, the stolen glances, the way you challenged him, called him out on his stubbornness, the way you made him feel like more than just a cop with a tough exterior—it was everything.

So why was he waiting?

Maybe it was because every time he saw you curled up in his hoodie, or laughing at one of his dry jokes, or patching up a scrape he barely noticed from work, he thought, I want this moment to last forever.

He wanted it to be special. He wanted to make sure that when he asked, it was in a moment that reflected just how much he loved you.

He just didn’t know that life had other plans.

Half an hour had passed and Tim was anxiously waiting for you, the soft candle glow only serving to make him more anxious.

You were supposed to meet Tim at a small , lowkey restaurant you’d both fallen in love with downtown. It wasn’t fancy but it was yours. A place where it was just you and him.

Your last text to him wasn’t out of the ordinary either.

Hate to keep ya waiting prince charming, finishing some paperwork , wait for me xoxo

But you’d never shown up.

He sat at the table, checking his watch every few minutes. He tried to push down the nagging feeling creeping up his spine. You were always punctual. Maybe you hit traffic. Maybe you forgot something and had to go back home. Maybe—

Then his phone rang.

“Hello?” He answered, expecting it to be someone from work. Perhaps an update or maybe even you.

“Bradford.” Grey’s voice was tense. “Is y/n with you?”

His heart skipped a beat. “I- I thought she was at work, I’ve been waiting here for 45 minutes.” He glanced down at his watch.

There was a pause.

“Her car is in the parking lot but she left 25 minutes ago and she won’t answer the phone.”

For a moment there was a ringing in his ears, a familiar panic that he’d experienced far too many times. Tim was already standing, throwing cash onto the table as he strode out the door. “I’m on my way.”

By the time he reached the station, his worst fears were creeping in like a slow poison. Your phone was going straight to voicemail. There were no signs of struggle in the parking lot, but your keys were on the ground next to the driver’s side door.

He knew what this meant.

You hadn’t just left. Someone had taken you.

The squad hit the ground running.

Angela and Nyla took lead on digital tracking, while Lucy and Aaron combed through surveillance. Tim paced like a caged animal in the conference room, the ring burning a hole in his jacket.

“She was fine this morning,” Lucy said quietly, her voice cracking. “We got coffee. She was talking about getting a dog. Said you were finally ready.”

Tim nodded, throat too tight to answer. The thought of you—your voice, your laugh, your warmth—ripped something raw inside him.

He was going to propose. Tonight. That wasn’t supposed to be a last chance.

Two days.

That’s how long it took before a break came through—a security cam from a gas station on the outskirts of the city. You. Disoriented. Hurried. A man behind you, hand on your arm.

Tim didn’t wait. He and Angela were out the door in seconds, sirens blaring.

They found the shack twenty minutes later. Deep in an overgrown lot behind an abandoned gas station. A rusted padlock, a sliver of movement inside.

Tim nearly tore the door off the hinges.

And there you were.

Huddled in a corner, blood dried at your temple, eyes glassy with exhaustion. But alive.

“Y/N!” he breathed, voice breaking as he crossed the room and pulled you into him, arms trembling.

Your fingers fisted in his jacket. “Tim…”

“I got you,” he whispered. “I got you. You’re safe now. I promise.”

Back at the hospital, the doctor said you’d be okay.

Bruised, shaken, a minor concussion. Nothing permanent. But the fear—Tim could still feel it in his bones.

You kept looking at him like you weren’t sure he was real. Like maybe he’d vanish if you blinked too long.

So he stayed. Sat beside your bed, held your hand through the night. He didn’t say much—didn’t trust his voice—but he kissed your knuckles every few minutes like a prayer.

It was 4:13 AM when you finally spoke. Quiet. Raw.

“You were gonna propose, weren’t you?”

Tim froze.

Your eyes met his, searching. Not angry. Just tired.

“I saw the ring,” you added, voice barely above a whisper. “Before they grabbed me. It fell out of your jacket at the precinct. I was going to pretend I didn’t notice.”

Tim exhaled slowly. Ran a hand over his face.

“I was,” he said. “Yeah. That night.”

A long pause. Then: “You still want to?”

The breath whooshed out of him like a punch. “What?”

Your fingers laced with his. Tight. “I don’t want to waste time, Tim. I don’t want to go another night wondering if the last thing I ever said to you was sarcastic.”

He choked out a laugh. “It probably was.”

“Exactly.”

He didn’t have the ring. It was still in his locker, where it had been since everything went to hell.

But that didn’t matter.

Tim leaned forward, forehead resting gently against yours. His hands trembled as he cupped your face.

“Marry me,” he whispered.

You blinked, startled.

“I don’t have the ring right now,” he said, “and this isn’t how I wanted to do it, but I’m not waiting another damn second. Life’s too short. Too unpredictable. I almost lost you, and I can’t—I won’t let that happen again without making sure you know how serious I am.”

“Tim—”

“I want forever with you,” he said hoarsely. “Even if forever’s messy and hard and sometimes terrifying. I want it anyway. With you.”

Silence. Then a soft, tearful laugh from your lips.

“You really are a dork.”

He smiled. “Is that a yes?”

You pulled him down into a kiss that tasted like salt and survival and the rest of your life.

The official proposal happened a week later.

You were curled up on the couch in one of his LAPD hoodies, (despite having your own) your legs over his, your head resting on his chest. The scar at your temple was still visible, but healing. And Tim—he couldn’t stop staring at you.

“Hey,” he said, reaching for the small velvet box.

You looked up. “Tim…”

“This time, I’m doing it right.”

He opened the box. Your breath caught.

“I’ve fought bad guys, cartels, and two very angry raccoons in a trash can, but nothing’s ever scared me like almost losing you,” he said. “Marry me, Y/N. Please.”

You kissed him again. “I already said yes.”

“Say it again.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know weather boy.”

[sai-int]

pleaseeee can i ask for Simon and a cam girl?

i love the idea of the average cam girl getting some special attention and tips from the grumpy solider

of course you can doll !

simon x cam girl!f!reader, suggestive, my mind kind of went away with this one :/

You’d always been careful about keeping the two parts of your life separate. By day, you were a soldier—focused, professional, working alongside men like Simon Riley, men who noticed everything and missed nothing. By night, you were swathed in shadows, pink lace, and satin sheets, faceless yet vibrant in ways you couldn’t allow yourself to be during the day.

It was a delicate balancing act, one you’d perfected over time. But even the best plans can fall apart.

That mission was supposed to be routine—a simple extraction, in and out, no complications. But, as always, distractions have a way of complicating a firefight. And a bullet had come too close.

Simon had been the one to find you once the fighting died down, crouched behind cover and pressing your hand to your bleeding arm.

“Y'hit,” he said, his voice as even as ever, though his eyes scanned you with a sharpness that made your chest tighten.

“Just a graze,” you replied, gritting your teeth as he knelt beside you.

“Hold still f'me.”

He pulled out his kit, his hands steady as he cleaned and stitched the wound. You bit back a wince, the sting sharp but nothing compared to the weight of his gaze.

“Y'lucky,” he said finally, tying off the last stitch. “An inch t'the left, 'n we’d be havin' a different conversation.”

You nodded, mumbling a quiet thanks before he helped you to your feet. The mission went on, the wound forgotten in the chaos, but later, when you stripped off your gear, you traced the neat line of stitches and thought about the way his hands had felt—steady, sure, and too close for comfort.

He didn’t forget.

The way your blood had stained his gloves, the way you’d flinched but didn’t complain. It wasn’t the first time he’d patched up a teammate, but something about it stayed with him.

Two weeks later, he still found himself thinking about it, replaying the moment like it held an answer he hadn’t figured out yet.

He doesn’t remember when it started—the quiet pull toward something he knew wasn’t wise. Nights after long missions blurred into watching her, RosyRail, with her baby doll lingerie, her seemingly always kiss-bitten lips, and hair that always fell just right. The name was a sugary veil, but what kept him coming back was the sharpness beneath her sweetness. The wit that cut through the screen and made his cock twitch.

She never showed her face. Just soft-lit glimpses of her lips, her hands, the curve of her neck, and always the way she moved—purposeful, but never desperate. He shouldn’t have been curious, but he was.

Something had been nagging at him—the way she covered herself so carefully, never letting the camera linger too long on anything that might reveal her identity. It was deliberate, and Simon knew deliberate when he saw it.

The pieces came together all at once.

Simon sat in his quarters, the screen’s glow reflecting in his eyes as he watched her. She shifted, leaning forward slightly to adjust the camera, and the sleeve of her robe slipped down her shoulder.

His breath hitched.

There, on her upper arm, was a scar. Fresh, pink, and impossibly familiar.

It was you.

RosyRail was you.

You settled into your chair, the familiar brush against your skin grounding you as you adjusted the camera and the straps of your lace chemise. The pink robe draped carefully over your shoulders, a soft contrast to the nerves coiling in your chest.

The ritual was the same every time: a deep breath, a flick of the live button, and the mask slipping effortlessly into place.

“Evening, everyone,” you said, your tone warm and inviting, smoothing over the rough edges of your day. “How’s everyone doing tonight?”

The chat lit up instantly, the usual flood of greetings and flattery scrolling past, but your focus zeroed in on one name: Frosty_14

There he was. A smile tugged at your lips. Silent as always, reliable as ever. You leaned closer to the camera, resting your chin in your palm. “Perfect timing, as always, Frost.”

You were lost in the rhythm of your stream for a while, teasing the viewers with even more skin when the price was right, but missing your favorite tipper. He usually tipped the most, making everybody else work a little harder. Aside from that, everything was flowing as it always did.

You didn’t hear it at first, the sound of a knock muffled by the low hum of soft music and the noise of donation alerts, but then, there it was again—louder this time, followed by the unmistakable creak of your barrack door swinging open.

The sight of him made your stomach plummet. You slammed the laptop shut, your heart pounding in panic, but it was already too late. The damage had been done. He’d seen it all—the soft glow of the sunset lamp, the faux-background you’d carefully set up, all leading to you sitting there, legs crossed, perched in a chair with your tits pushed up high, a flimsy thong barely covering your front. You were laid out for him, every inch of you meticulously arranged, like a gift waiting to be unwrapped.

You couldn’t breathe. Your pulse thundered in your ears as Simon took a slow step into the room, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft thud. He didn’t say a word. His silence was heavier than any accusation, and instead of speaking, his eyes roamed over you—every inch of you, the way you tried, desperately, to pull the robe back over your body. His gaze lingered, unrelenting, a smoldering heat that burned through the fabric, settling on every exposed curve. You could feel the weight of it, impossible to ignore.

He didn’t respond right away. A cold sweat trickled down your spine as he moved toward you with deliberate confidence that made the air thick with tension.

"So," he said, his voice low, dangerous, as though he were savoring the moment. "This wha' y'been hidin', yeah? Like to plaster y'tits on a screen?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your heart skipped a beat. "I..I.." You opened your mouth to speak, to explain, but the words were trapped. There was no easy way out now. The reality of the situation—of him, really seeing you—settled in, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat.

Then, finally, he smirked. The corner of his lips twitched upward, a slow, knowing curve, and even through the black of his mask, you could see it shift, subtle but unmistakable. It sent a jolt through you, making your stomach flip. The tension pressing down on you both like a vice. 

“Y’ve got some explaining to do,” he said, his tone almost teasing.

You sat there, frozen for a moment, trying to regain control of your racing thoughts. But all at once, the weight of it hit you. 

He already knew.

The realization crashed over you, and the instinct to cover yourself or hide evaporated. You couldn’t ignore it. He had known. And there was only one way how.

Without thinking, you stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as you closed the distance between you. You stood toe-to-toe with him, the heat from his body radiating toward you. His towering presence made you feel small, but you squared your shoulders, refusing to back down.

“How?” you demanded, your voice sharp as you closed the distance between you. Your chest was tight with a mix of frustration and panic. “How did you find out?”

Simon’s gaze stayed steady, but there was a flicker behind his eyes—something that told you he hadn’t expected this. His mask hid so much, but his posture—his silence—spoke volumes.

He didn’t answer right away, just stood there, unmoving, his eyes narrowed slightly. The seconds stretched, thick with tension. But then, to your surprise, his shoulders tensed, and he lowered his gaze, as if reconsidering.

“I—" he began, his voice slower than before. "I didn’t know, not at first.”

“I noticed somethin'.” He sighed, like he was working through his own thoughts. "I saw y'.... y'robe slip.” He paused, his gaze drifting briefly to your arm.

The scar.

You stiffened. You hadn’t thought about it, not until now. The scar, the one you had thought you'd kept hidden, had betrayed you.

Simon’s eyes lingered on the now exposed reddish-pink mark for a moment, his gaze suddenly soft, almost apologetic. Without a word, his hand reached out, almost hesitantly. The brush of his fingertips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, his touch light but undeniable. He ran his hand over your arm, following the curve of the scar as if memorizing it, as if trying to understand.

You didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and in that moment, the weight of everything you’d been hiding seemed to disappear beneath his hand.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost unsure. “Not until I saw this.”

You could feel his thumb tracing the scar, his breath soft against your skin. A silence fell between you, and the space that had been charged with tension shifted into something else—something far more fragile.

His statement hung in the air, unchallenged. Simon’s hand lingered, his touch no longer just a simple gesture, but something more intimate, something you didn’t quite understand.

But you didn’t need to say anything. The truth had already spoken for itself. Your fingers slipped into his, a gentle but insistent pull guiding him further into the room. Simon followed without hesitation, his body attuned to your lead, moving pliantly with you. When your palms pressed against his chest, he let you ease him back until the bed creaked beneath his weight.

A soft grunt rumbled from his chest as you crawled atop his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips, anchoring him beneath you. You leaned in, your lips brushing the shell of his masked ear, your voice curling around him like smoke, thick and syrupy, dripping with saccharine temptation.

"Let me show you some other services I offer... Frost."

mlist

[pinkestpanties]

Cam Girl Next Door

A/N: Hi everyone! thank you for the positive feedback! I am very grateful that you guys liked my first writing piece! This will be my first smut writing so please leave notes so i can improve myself! Might be so errors!!

warnings- Masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, praise, pet names, usage of ‘daddy’

WC: (4.6k)

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Right after Y/n sent that message, she got a wave a excitement and nervousness. I mean she’s never done one on one calls with anyone for her work. She thought to herself, “What would I even wear tonight..? I’ll have to go shopping for new lingerie sets.” As her class went on she was preoccupied with the fact she was going to be calling a complete stranger. What if he was those perverted trolls? Those jerks who like to troll sex workers and waste their time. Of course Y/n has had a number of her own internet trolls, but she tried to ignore them. Before she closed her laptop after class ended, she got a 200 dollar transfer to her bank account. The money was from Crossbowdaddy and he left a note, “For two hours sweetheart, I’ll see you later tonight.” She smiled before closing her laptop.

After her class, she was going to head straight to the mall to get some new lingerie just for tonight. “Maybe I should get a sexy costume..” She spoke aloud to herself. Something that caught her eye while driving. A fancy sex shop, “Cupid’s Arrow”. She decided to pull over at the store and take a look. She was welcomed by many displays of lingerie and sexy costumes. She saw stripper heels, pasties, and her favorite toys. She began to browse the aisles, trying to find the perfect set for tonight. She ended up picking out a hot pink babydoll dress, a black lacy two piece, and a light pink slip dress. She went to the fitting room to try on all three and send each picture to Crossbowdaddy. She ended up getting the babydoll dress but in baby pink.

The moment she got home she began to get ready for her.. ‘date’ if that what she should call it. By the time she finished getting ready it was already 11, she was extremely nervous. What if he wasn’t going to join the call? She drowned those that negative thought away with an aphrodisiac chocolate to help her get more aroused. She opened up her computer and awaited for the upcoming call request. Her heart practically sank to her ass when she saw the Skype request. She made sure her face was out of frame but her body was front and center before answering the call.

“Hi, you must be Crossbowdaddy” She tried to hide the shakiness in her voice, by making herself sound more seductive. The man on her computer screen also hid his face and was only showing off his tattoos. He finally spoke up with a deep and hoarse voice, “Hey baby, I’ve been so excited about this call.” She smiled, god his voice was so attractive she thought. “I bought this dress just for our call.” She got up to show off her body in the little dress. Teasing him with her slow and desirable movements. He let out a strained groan. “Fuck babygirl.. You’re killin’ me.” She got on her chair slowly pulling up the short dress to reveal a matching pink thong. She couldn’t help but feel the heat from between her legs. Sitting back in her seat spreading her legs to reveal the damp patch on her clothed pussy. “Do you like what you see daddy? Does my pussy make your cock hard?” Daryl began to slowly fist his hard cock in his hand making sure it was in frame for me. “Look how hard you made me baby. Just from your little strip-tease. Such a naughty little slut.” She pulled the thin pair of underwear to the side to expose her bare pussy. She slowly pushed her slender into her sopping pussy, mewing at her arousal. Daryl let out a grunt. “Jesus you’re so fucking beautiful.. Such a filthy girl. Fuck- keep goin’.” She slowly fucked herself, pushing her fingers in and out of her. She was practically oozing from her pussy. She cried out, “It feels so good daddy- Shit.. I can barely handle it.” She sped up her movement causing her to buck her hips back into her own fingers. Daryl scoffs at her. “Look how pathetic you are slut. Can’t even handle your own pussy. You probably couldn’t even handle this cock.” He growled as thrusts up into his fist. She quickly began to tremble as her toyed with her clit. Her pathetic whines and cries spilled out of her mouth as she finger fucked herself. “Fuck I’m going to cum- Can I please cum daddy? Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” She wailed trying her best not to come to her high so fast. Daryl groaned slowing down his jerking motion as he was too coming close to the end. “Go ahead sweetheart make a goddamn mess all over.” Her entire body shook as she came all over her fingers. Daryl gave a strained moan and his warm cum spurted from his pink tip. Her body was calming down from her high. “You are probably the first man to make myself cum so- quick.” Daryl chuckled, “Maybe we can do this again sweetheart.” Y/n spoke up again, “I would actually love to do this again with you. Goodnight daddy.”

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I’m sorry this one took so long. But I hope everyone liked it! Please leave feedback and thank you for all the positive comments!

[diamond-champagne]

7. Do You Miss Me?

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: None that I know of but please let me know!

a/n: We're kind of approaching the end so please give me requests on what I should write next! Thanks for the love, besties <3 It means more than yous know!

New Years Eve

The balloons and confetti fill the air while bottles of booze litter the table. The UConn Womens’ Basketball team; along with the rest of the UConn athletes, have taken their New Year's festivities to a club. It’s loud and packed. It makes the perfect distraction which is what Azzi needs. 

After her nauseating conversation with Caroline, the curly-haired girl was left to face the truth about her relationship with Paige. It’s fragile but teetering. Every interaction pushes it closer to being destroyed; yet it sits on edge, slightly wobbly, but intact. Azzi knows she’s to blame for the current state of their friendship. Though they’ve had rough patches, she never thought it would get this bad. The pair haven’t had a real conversation in weeks; both doing everything they could to avoid the other. In the three conversations they have had, they argue. It’s exhausting, but Azzi is grateful for the disagreements. It means that there’s still some fight left in Paige. Some fight left for them.

Despite how happy she is to be fighting with the blonde, she wishes that they were making up more. The brown-eyed girl has missed her counterpart over the last month. The two don’t have designated time to spend together anymore, don’t go out of their way to borrow the other’s clothes, or simply just cuddle. Azzi misses Paige. It’s not a new concept as their entire friendship is based on missing each other but Azzi is desperate to have the blue-eyed girl near her. She misses the presence of her best friend more than anything. 

She wonders if Paige misses her too. 

Though she imagines that the blonde-haired girl doesn’t because across the club, Paige is making her way to Cameron. Azzi watches as the football player notices the blonde making her way to him. Azzi watches as she slips into the space next to him; pressing her side into his as his arm snakes around her shoulders protectively.

It’s a nauseating sight that results in Azzi throwing back her shot and quickly ordering another one. And another one. And another one. 

“You should slow down,” Caroline says as she sits down next to Azzi.​​ The sentiment, while appreciated, does nothing to deter the curly-haired girl from ordering another shot. She’s being irresponsible, this much she knows, but she needs to forget. She needs to not feel. “It’s New Years Eve. I’m allowed to get drunk.” the girl grumbles out. It’s hard over the music but her teammate hears every word. “You are,” Caroline agrees, “But New Years isn’t why you’re sitting at the bar, drinking alone.”

Azzi turns to face the couple on the other side of the club. She watches as they talk to one of the football player’s teammates. Paige laughs at something and throws her head back. Azzi wonders if Cam loves that sound the way she does. Or does he prefer her giggle that she probably lets out when they engage in banter? 

These thoughts and more occupy the curly-haired girl’s mind more than she’d care to admit. The thoughts alone are suffocating but to watch is like dying a thousand deaths. So Azzi doesn’t bother with a response. Instead, she downs her shot before heading to the floor to dance. The younger girl isn’t sure how long. All she knows is that Waka Flocka turned into Pitbull which turned into Lady Gaga. It doesn’t matter though, because Paige is still connected at the hip to Cam, and Azzi still wishes that was her instead. 

-

Azzi is drunk. The younger girl is standing in the club bathroom with 30 minutes to midnight trying to get herself together. She came in to use the bathroom but that proved to be difficult when she couldn’t even stand straight. The basketball player eventually got that much figured out but couldn’t really do much else besides hold onto the sink for balance. 

The brown-haired girl had just about gotten a hold on herself when a group of girls walk in. Two immediately head towards the big mirror by the sink Azzi is currently occupying. The other two girls head into the stalls but the conversation between the group never falters; which is the only reason Azzi is able identify one the girls as Riley. In fact, the volleyball player is looking at her through the mirror. 

Azzi is drunk but she isn’t drunk enough for this. She supposes she can’t be surprised. Riley is a volleyball player and most of the UConn athletes are at this club tonight. Still, seeing your ex that broke up with you because of your feelings for your best friend who you still aren’t with is very uncomfortable. Talking to them even more so.

“Hi, Az-”

“Hey, Rile-”

They both start but before laughing. The tensitiy in the air lessens and the athletes watch as the other’s body relaxes. Suddenly, talking to each other isn’t that bad but then again, it could be the alcohol. 

“How are you?” Azzi asks.

“I’m good. How are you? How’s Paige?” Riley replies. The answer must reveal itself on Azzi’s face though, because the volleyball player’s eyes widen before she snaps her head in the direction of the taller girl. “You aren’t together?”

The basketball player shakes her head no and Riley’s eyes widen even more. “Listen, I know I said a lot of things that night but I never would have imagined that you two didn’t figure it out.” Azzi laughs in response. “Well, it doesn’t help that she asked if I have feelings for her and I walked out of her apartment.” The statement earns her a slap on the arm and a scolding from the shorter athlete next to her. 

“Why would you do that? It’s obvious that you do!”

“I’m scared,” Azzi starts. Perhaps it’s the alcohol that allows her to be this open because her next words have never been spoken. “I’m fucking terrifed of loving her. I’m terrified of her loving me. Every single time I look into her eyes, she’s got these intense emotions pooling in them and I don’t know how to handle that. Paige looks at me like I’m her forever. She looks at melike I can hang the stars and the moon. Fuck, she’s just so intense and sometimes I worry about it being too much. Sometimes I worry about being too little.” 

“You’re a coward, a liar, and a thief.” Riley states. She says it even toned and softly as if all three of those words were not insults of some kind. 

“Excuse me?” Azzi exclaims. The insult clearly catching her off guard. 

“It’s the truth,” Riley shrugs. “You’re a coward, a liar, and a thief. Until you begin to work on that, allowing yourself to be happy will be hard. You’re self sabotaging and you don’t even know it.”

The basketball player isn’t exactly sure how to respond. She watches as her ex moves toward the bathroom door before turning around.

“Once you figure it out, I hope you get everything you want.” and then she’s out the door. Azzi shakes her head and checks her phone for the time. She tries not to give what Riley said another thought, at least not while she’s this intoxicated. 

There’s five minutes until midnight. 

Azzi walks out of the bathroom and heads towards the section occupied by her teammates, and Cam. A bitter feeling creeps up Azzi’s throat and invades her senses. Would Paige kiss him at midnight? It’s a thought that produces sickening images in the younger girls’ mind. Though as she reaches the section, all she can hear is her ex’s voice in the back of her mind.

I hope you get everything you want.

While she isn’t sober enough to work out whatever Riley thinks she needs to, Azzi can accept that she should after whatever she wants. It is a new year afterall. 

The words repeat themselves as the girls flood the floor along with the other athletes to start the countdown. Azzi can feel the tequila and adrenaline pumping through her veins as she watches Paige separate herself from the football player to be with their friends. 

10

Should she do it? Azzi thinks she passes through the club to get to Paige.

9

Maybe she shouldn’t. She continues walking anyway.

8

Coward. Azzi gets closer.

7

Liar. And closer.

6

I hope you get everything you want this year. 

5

They’re standing face to face.

4

Azzi pulls Paige closer.

3

“What are you doing?” Paige exclaimed

2

“Getting everything I want” 

1

Happy New Year!

Azzi crashes her lips onto Paige.

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

“Love’s Gonna Get You Killed”

Chapter 8

“Prince + Truth”

Synopsis: A wounded mafia heir stumbles into a late-night convenience store, where a quiet clerk patches him up. He walks out—but can’t stop watching her. As danger circles and their worlds quietly collide, one question remains: Can you stay untouched in a life soaked in blood?

Word Count: 2,281

Karina X Male Reader

You stormed the loading yard with the fury of a man with nothing left to lose — face of steel, heart of rage. And yet, the second the first bullet sliced through the air, you knew something was wrong.

This wasn’t chaos. It was a trap.

Bullets sprayed like rain, metal against concrete. You dove behind a truck just as two of your men dropped beside you, motionless. You didn’t blink.

Your earpiece crackled to life.

“Boss,” Jun-ho’s voice came through, tense but calm. He was in the control room, watching everything from satellite feeds and hacked security cams. “They’re already waiting. Three vans — one front, two flanking. Fifteen men. Plus Hyuk.”

You leaned out, heart pounding.

Hyuk.

That beast of a man — over seven feet of scarred muscle and a mind wired for violence. Suijoon’s war dog. You caught a glimpse of him through the fog — shirtless, already bloodied, like he’d walked through your men without slowing.

“Mine?” you asked.

Jun-ho’s silence lasted half a second too long.

“Fifteen down. Half.”

You breathed in once. Let the fury settle.

“Flank left. Draw the outer guards away from Hyuk. I’ll deal with him.”

“Wait,” Jun-ho said, “Y/N—he’s not like the rest. Don’t get reckless.”

You didn’t answer.

You stepped out into the open.

Hyuk spotted you almost instantly — his lips curled into a grin.

“The little prince,” he said, voice like gravel. “Come to die in the dirt, just like the rest?”

You didn’t speak. You charged.

The fight started hard and fast. You ducked his first swing and drove a punch into his ribs, but it felt like hitting stone. He countered with a knee to your gut that sent you staggering. You recovered and threw a combo — jab, hook, elbow — but he absorbed it all, then grabbed you by the neck and slammed you into the side of the van.

You gasped, the metal warping under your spine.

“You’ve got heart,” he said, dragging you forward by your collar. “But heart won’t save you.”

You spat blood in his face.

He roared and threw you across the concrete. Your shoulder tore against the ground. You tried to rise — barely got to one knee.

Your vision blurred.

Karina. You could see her — not here, but in your memory. Tired eyes, trembling hands, whispering that she wasn’t scared anymore… not with you.

You pushed up again.

Hyuk charged.

But just before he reached you—

Bang.

Not a gunshot.

A sound like thunder — the warehouse door kicked clean off its hinges.

And then he stepped out of the dark.

Killian Draco.

Your father.

Immaculate. Calm. Suit unwrinkled, sleeves rolled back like he was stepping into a board meeting — not a battlefield.

Hyuk froze mid-charge. His grin faded.

“Back away from my son,” Killian said simply.

Hyuk hesitated. “Didn’t think you’d come down from the tower.”

“You laid a hand on what’s mine,” Killian said. “And worse… you made me miss dinner.”

He moved like smoke and fire — no warning. One second he was ten feet away. The next, Hyuk was reeling from a strike to the temple.

You’d never seen Hyuk stagger before.

Killian didn’t let up. He moved with surgical precision — no wasted motion, every blow a lesson in anatomy and punishment. A strike to the throat, then ribs, then knee. Hyuk swung wildly, but your father was already behind him, driving an elbow into the back of his neck.

In less than twenty seconds, Hyuk was on his back, coughing blood.

Killian crouched beside him, gaze ice-cold.

“You were never a fighter,” he said. “You were a tool. And now you’re broken.”

Then he stood, turned to you, and extended a hand.

You hesitated — pride, pain, ego all screaming — but you took it.

He pulled you to your feet with one arm, as if you weighed nothing.

“Get her,” he said. “I’ll clean up this mess.”

You nodded once — and ran.

For Karina.

For yourself.

And for the first time in your life, knowing your father wasn’t just watching…

He was protecting

You smirked, blood drying at the corner of your mouth as your father walked away, calm as ever, leaving Hyuk broken on the pavement like trash ready to be collected. “Thanks, old man,” you muttered under your breath, before turning your focus forward — to her.

You ran.

And ran.

Each stride thundered through the dockyard with lethal purpose. The cold air whipped past your face, the scent of salt and rust mixing with gunpowder. Shadows stretched wide beneath the old cranes and shipping containers, twisted shapes cast by dying floodlights.

Karina was close.

You didn’t care what waited on the other end of this hell — only who.

Every guard that stood in your way crumbled fast. You were a storm now — precise, merciless. Throats were slit, bullets punched skulls, blades found soft tissue like they were born to. None of them even slowed you down.

Then—

“Sir. Stop.”

Jun-ho’s voice came sharp through your earpiece. Urgent. “I’m detecting electric traps just ahead. Ground-level wiring, rigged to trip. Pressure-activated. Step wrong, you’ll light up like a Christmas tree.”

You skidded to a halt behind a rusted cargo crate. Sparks crackled faintly just beyond the shadows — thin lines of wire, faint blue arcs dancing beneath scattered oil stains.

You crouched low, breathing steady. Every part of you coiled with focus.

Above, hidden in the control tower nestled into the top of a steel stacker crane, a figure watched you.

He was slouched in a cracked leather chair, monitors glowing against his pale face. Greasy hair hung over his eyes, but the smirk spread wide beneath it.

“There you are,” he murmured. “My prince.”

He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with sadistic glee. “Run through it. Go on. Be brave. Like your mother.”

He tapped the feed, zoomed in on your still figure.

“Walk into my arms…”

You didn’t move at first.

Then — slowly — you looked up. Right into the camera.

Not the general direction. At it. Like it wasn’t hidden at all.

And you smirked.

Pop!

Your pistol fired once. The first camera sparked, exploded into darkness.

Pop pop pop pop!

Four more. Shattered. Sparks rained down. Static overtook the man’s screens.

He shot up from his seat, stumbling backward, wide-eyed. “W-What?! H-How—?!”

No answer. Only silence.

And then the muffled sound of footsteps.

You were already gone.

The deeper you went into the yard, the worse it got. This place wasn’t a shipyard anymore — it was a maze. One designed to hunt you. Narrow corridors made of stacked containers. Open pockets of space meant to funnel you into sniper range. Walls lined with rusted steel that amplified every footstep you took.

It was surgical. Sadistic.

And it didn’t matter.

“Jun-ho,” you said, keeping your pace low and controlled, “feed me everything.”

“Tripwires at your ten. Explosive rigging tied to that red crate ahead. Secondary traps overhead — falling steel cables. I’m patching thermal now. You’re in a kill zone.”

You narrowed your eyes.

Then moved.

You sprinted, faster than the sensors could react — vaulted over the wire by milliseconds. Boom!

The crate behind you erupted, flames licking your back as you dove forward into a shoulder roll. You landed hard, skin scraped and ribs aching — but alive.

On the second floor of the now half-lit shipyard control office, the man was pacing.

He had watched you dodge death like it was routine.

“No. No, that’s not how this works,” he muttered, half to himself. “You don’t just walk through my maze.”

He slammed his hand against the desk. Monitors flickered.

Enough games.

He grabbed his coat — a long, torn thing streaked with oil and dust — and made his way down the rusted staircase. His boots rang against each step like a bell tolling its own death.

Out of the shadows he stepped.

Slick hair. Thin frame, but wired with twitchy violence. His lips curled as he entered the clearing.

“Enough of my tricks,” he called out, his voice echoing across the yard. “Let’s see if the prince can handle me.”

He stepped under the last flickering light.

And that smirk — wide, jagged, confident — shone in the dark like something carved from bone.

He opened his arms like a preacher ready for baptism.

“You’ve killed your way here. But this part? This is personal.”

You stepped out from the opposite side, boots crunching glass and grit beneath you.

Blood clung to your knuckles. Smoke curled off your jacket.

And despite everything — the burns, the bruises, the death — you smiled.

Because now you could see the end.

You could feel her heartbeat waiting in the dark.

And he was just another wall.

Your gun lowered. Fists clenched.

No more distractions.

This wasn’t about the crown.

This was about her.

And you were ready to end it.

The man stood beneath the floodlight, waiting. His arms open wide like a snake shedding its skin.

“You made it farther than most,” he called, his voice laced with mock admiration. “I thought maybe you’d trip somewhere in my maze. But I guess you’re harder to kill than you look.”

You didn’t answer.

You just walked toward him — slow, deliberate, like a predator who had already chosen where the body would fall.

His eyes twitched. “Still quiet, huh? That’s fine. They say gods don’t talk much either—”

You were already in motion.

He blinked, then choked as your fist drove into his gut with brutal precision. He staggered backward, his smirk evaporating.

Crack.

Your elbow found his jaw. His head snapped to the side, blood flying from his lips.

You didn’t let him breathe.

You grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the metal crate behind him, denting it with the force. His body bounced off and collapsed to his knees.

He gasped, reaching for a blade at his hip — but you kicked it away before he could even grip the handle.

“W-wait—” he tried.

You drove your knee into his face. His nose shattered.

He hit the ground like trash.

You circled him, emotionless.

He coughed blood, crawling weakly. “Y-you don’t get it… you think this is—just some game—some revenge tour—”

You grabbed his arm and snapped it at the elbow.

He screamed.

“I warned them,” he whimpered, spitting red. “Told them not to underestimate the prince. T-they laughed at me…”

You crouched beside him, blood dripping from your knuckles. Your voice was low.

“They should’ve listened.”

Then you stood, raising your gun, ready to finish it.

Your finger was on the trigger. Blood in your mouth, adrenaline pulsing like gunfire in your veins.

Then—

“Enough.”

The single word cut through the air sharper than any blade. You froze.

Suijoon stood there, black coat swaying like smoke in the wind. Calm. Silent. Still as death itself.

He looked at you, then at the man twitching in the dirt — blood pooling beneath him, face barely intact.

“He’s not worth it,” Suijoon said quietly.

You didn’t lower your gun.

But your jaw clenched.

“I don’t need him alive,” you muttered. “I just need Karina back.”

There was a beat of silence.

Suijoon stepped forward, slow.

“Then you should know something,” he said. “Before you put another bullet in the wrong man.”

You eyed him cautiously. The sweat on your back went cold.

He reached into his coat — you flinched instinctively — but he only pulled out a folded photograph. Old. Worn at the corners.

He tossed it at your feet.

You picked it up.

Two faces stared back at you. Karina’s parents. Smiling. Younger than you remembered from the files. Her mother wore a jade necklace, the same one Karina had tucked in her shirt the first time you met her.

Your stomach sank.

“Five years ago,” Suijoon said, voice even, “that necklace was found at the crash site. But the crash wasn’t the cause of death.”

You looked up sharply.

“What?”

Suijoon’s eyes darkened.

“They were poisoned. Both of them. Car crash was staged — used to make it look clean, accidental. But the autopsy was buried. Only three people ever saw the real report.”

You gritted your teeth. “Who?”

Suijoon tilted his head.

“One’s dead. One is standing in front of you. And the third…”

He nodded toward the broken man behind you.

“…was him.”

Your hand trembled. The man groaned, barely conscious.

“That bastard was paid to lace their drinks. Then rig the car with remote control override — drove it into the rail on command.”

You turned fully to face the broken man now, gun shaking in your grip.

“Why?” you demanded. “Why them?”

He coughed blood, barely able to form a sentence. “W-we needed leverage… against Yu Holdings… her father—he—he said no…”

“No to what?”

Suijoon answered instead.

“Karina’s father refused to sell military-grade tracking software. Said it was too dangerous. Too easy to manipulate civilian systems. So someone made an example of him.”

“Who?” you asked, your voice low. Deadly.

Suijoon’s gaze met yours.

“I don’t know. Not exactly. But whoever it was… had access to both government cleanup crews and private contractors. This wasn’t random.”

Your fists tightened until they shook.

“And Karina… she doesn’t know?”

Suijoon hesitated. Then shook his head.

“She knows they died. Not how. Not why. She’s still searching for answers. She thinks she’s just in debt.”

You looked down at the photo in your hand again.

No.

She was never just in debt.

She was hunted.

And you were going to end every last person responsible.

One. By. One.

[how-serene]

hello hello! <3

could you write for dbd ghostface with a reader who does urban exploration and stumbles upon a murder site? thank you so much!

Are We Tuned In?

Pairing - Ghostface (DBD) X Neutral!Reader

Summary - Perhaps some places are better left abandoned.

Word Count - 1.5k+

Warnings - no use of y/n, gn!reader, swearing, spooky shit occurs, proofread (somewhat), MDNI

A/N - lets both pretend that this request hasn't been sitting in my inbox since june... I had a lot of fun writing for this idea, and it oddly brought a sense of nostalgia as I was reminded of all the urban exploration videos I used to watch back in high school, so thank you for the request <3. P.S I did tweak the idea a little, hope that was okay.

Spring, 2003

Beams of sunlight split through the dark heavy clouds clustering the sky. The air was damp and heavy, a reminder that you only had so much time before the inevitable rainfall. 

“Lennon, hurry your ass up.”

“This shit is harder than it looks, give me a minute.”

You sighed, adjusting the weighted bag on your shoulder that held camera equipment. Lennon grunted, digging his bony fingers under the window that had swelled shut over the years. He gritted his teeth, and pushed his palms up against the splintered frame. It finally lifted with a harsh sounding scrape. 

“Finally,” you groaned, approaching the window. You peered into the room, squinting beyond the shroud of darkness that enveloped the space. It was as if the room was one gigantic hole in the earth, waiting to swallow up the next person who climbed through the window. 

“Did you bring the flashlights?” 

Lennon picked through his backpack, which held loose pins and patches curling at the ends. He produced a flashlight, and tossed it your way. You caught it, and shined it into the room. It was bare, save for a rickety chair shoved into the corner. 

You hoisted yourself up, carefully climbing under the window. The floorboards creaked beneath the weight of your body as you landed with a heavy thud. A thin layer of dust coated the wooden floors, which were discolored from age. Garish, floral wallpaper covered the walls, already peeling and faded. 

Lennon climbed through, muttering to himself. Suddenly, he cried out as his lanky body stumbled forward, nearly face-planting before you reached out. 

“Could you be any louder?” you hissed, stabilizing him. 

He huffed, and shoved your hands away. “Sorry, not all of us have the agility of a fucking cat.” 

You rolled your eyes, and slid the bag off of your shoulder, gently laying it on the ground. Lennon immediately dug out a silver cam-corder, while you grabbed your trusted digital camera. After a moment of adjusting – and assuring that the equipment worked –  you two were ready. 

“Alright,” Lennon said, aiming the camera at you. “Ready when you are, man.” The black lens stared at you like an unblinking eye, prepared to capture every twitch of yours. 

“You know I hate being on camera,” you whined, grimacing at the lens. 

“Just say where we are, and we can move on.” 

With the most deadpan expression you could muster, you caved in. “Today, Lennon and I ventured out to Anastasia Inn, a local bed and breakfast that was forced to shut down eight years ago due to bankruptcy.”

“And murder!” Lennon interrupted. 

You sighed, staring blankly at him. “Nothing was actually proven, just because some lady died in a bathtub doesn’t mean she was murdered, Lennon.” 

He shrugged, brushing off your argument. 

“Let’s just go,” you muttered, shaking your head. You two quietly walked out into the darkened hallway, using the poorly lit flashlights as a guide. The burgundy carpet held intricate designs of flowers, and vines, similar to the surrounding wallpaper. Warm oak doors were scattered along one side. Portraits of animal life and serene landscaping were hung between the empty spaces.

“Jesus,” Lennon whispered, panning the camera down the hall. “You think they could have hired a better designer.” 

It was certainly…overwhelming.  

You snapped a photo of the elongated hallway, illuminating the room with a white burst of light. When the light went out it felt as if the shadows grew closer, stretching around your presence. You stepped back, feeling as if it might actually materialize and touch you. A cold chill ran down your spine like water. 

“Hey, you alright?”

You blinked to find Lennon staring at you in concern, his wiry copper hair like a stain against the dark.

“I don’t know,” you mused, staring down the hall. “Does something feel off to you?” Even shining your flashlight failed to penetrate through the murky blackness beyond. You clenched your jaw, feeling your stomach turn. 

Lennon glanced around, swinging his camera over the walls. 

“It’s an old building,” he said, shrugging. “I would be worried if it wasn’t a little creepy.” 

You shook your head, trying to gather your nerves. A year of exploration and what startles you is a bed and breakfast of all places, you couldn’t help but scoff at the idea. 

Hillside Church was worse than this, you thought. You tightened your grip on the flashlight and cautiously pressed on. Lennon approached one of the doors, it led to a cramped supply closet that held an old, worn down broom and a bucket. Nothing worth capturing. 

You walked past him, your light leading the way toward another unopened door. Your hand tentatively wrapped around the brass doorknob, before pushing it open. 

“Please no racoons,” you whispered to yourself, squinting into the dark room. Your weak light by the doorway failed to penetrate through the room. So you stepped inside, your slick palms gripping onto the camera. It seemed to be a simple office space, as your flashlight shined on a grungy looking desk, with papers scattered over it. Curiosity drove you forward, as you walked up to the desk. 

Bold headlines from loose newspaper clipping stared up at you, with long paragraph stories attached to them. You plucked one of the articles from the desk, peering down at it. 

Revisiting The Roseville Murders: A Decade Later

In 1993, an unspeakable tragedy struck the town of Roseville. A town known for its quaint, close-knit community would soon fall victim to the hands of a masked murderer that very spring. Embark on this harrowing journey with me, as I – Linda Feldman – revisit the grizzly murders that forever altered the town of Roseville. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered, staring down at the desk. The flimsy paper shook in your hand, nearly slipping from your fingers. You turned, eager to share your discovery. “Lennon, you need to see this –”

The door slammed shut, vibrating the wall with its force. You cried out, dropping your light along with the article. 

“Very funny,” you grumbled, picking up the light and stomping over to the door. You pounded against the sturdy wood, feeling your heart lurch with every thud. “Ha ha, funny prank, now open the door!” 

“You alright?” Lennons muffled voice came through. 

“Yes, just open the damn door.” 

The door handle jiggled, as he struggled to turn it. 

“I- I can’t, it must be locked.” 

Your stomach turned at his words, feeling the blackness of the room press against your back. You grabbed at the doorknob, your sweaty palms coating the cold surface. 

“No, no, no,” you chanted, desperately pulling and twisting it. “You better open this fucking door right – Something scraped against the floor just a few feet behind you. Its presence somehow had gone unnoticed when you first entered the room. Now, it was monstrous, filling the corners of the room. They approached, so slowly, the drag of their footfalls echoing against your back. Tears brimmed in your eyes, as you let out a shaky breath. 

“Something is in here,” you whispered, as panic swelled in your chest. Lennon began to ram his shoulder into the door, wincing with every thud. 

“Why won’t it open!” he cried, pounding against it. A violent sob raked through your body, as you helplessly tugged on the doorknob. You could feel its misshapen existence reaching out for you, its twisted fingers just hovering over your waist. Its hot breath now fanned against the back of your head, close and near like a lover. A low rumble came from its chest, as if it were laughing at you. 

With whine the door came open, as Lennon nearly fell into you. You reached for his arm, dragging him down the hall without bothering to glance back. The sound of your thunderous feet resonated throughout the hall, as you and Lennon ran hand in hand. The sound of another pair of feet rushing after you pushed you forward, as if it were the devil himself. You both finally reach the open window, as if it were a beacon of light along a stormy shore. 

“Go, go, go,” you uttered, pushing Lennon before you. He climbed out, his long, clumsy limbs harshly landing on the ground. You soon followed after, pushing your body under the tight opening. Something grasped at the back of your shirt, forcing you to look over your shoulder. A horrid, white mask, taking on the face of a wide-mouthed scream stared back at you. A pair of dark, pitless eyes burned into your retinas, a sight that would haunt the very threads of your heart for years to come. 

You screamed, your face mirroring the one glaring down at you. With a forceful shove, you fell backwards, landing on top of Lennon who groaned beneath you. You wheezed, feeling the air leave your body from the harsh fall. Lennon crawled out from under you, and flopped onto his back. 

“Come on,” you started, pushing yourself up. “We need to get out of –

When you glanced up at the window the masked figure was gone, as if they were never there to begin with. One sentence flashed in your mind, if only for a second. Something you saw beforehand, an article that jumped out from the others among the table of newspaper clippings. It seemed so ludicrous, a silly name that meant nothing to you a few minutes ago. Now it feels like a stain on your mind.  

Who is The Ghostface?

[boraslus]

Melon x reader

¿Platonic?

A/N: Another Idea! I think of [Name] would like to annoy Melon (In his teacher part) when there's nothing much to do in the class and everyone is doing their own stuff while he do works. So what [Name] do is get his phone and take a picture or videos of [Name] itself, the class and Melon.

BUT [Name] accidentally leaking informations of students for Melon to take advantage.

A/N: If you noticed an incorrect grammar or confusion, pls comment and correct my grammar or mispelled words! I'll appreciate it!

Minor Warning:

Hc of Melon and [Name] had a good relationship

Something a bit off

Bad English

Let's act this is modern with teachers works in front of the class with their laptop

Interrupting Melon

Major Warning:

mentions of accidental Information leaks

Melon having an access to turn some students into a meal

Murder thoughts

3:20 pm

Everything seems a bit boring and bland, the class is a bit nosy as always while the other animals doing their own works — whether they're doing phones, homeworks, advanced review, gossiping to another and all that common stuff.

Your history mentor, Melon — is surprisingly calm about what's happening. The 1 hour discussion already have done and since he have 30 minutes left, before he dismissed the class he just sat there on his desk doing paperwork on laptop — Computing grades and checking if there are any errors.

While gazing on his phone beside his desk and some students are already outside of the class whether it's a group excusing to go to the bathroom, but they're just out there to grab some snacks and sharts. Which Melon really didn't mind since today, he's in a pretty chill mood despite his instincts might act on later.

Without hesitation you come in your way to get his attention, as always he's adorable when both of his eyes were closed or lightly squinted and with that mask he wore.

"Hey there our favorite History Prof. Can I see my grades now-" You interrupt.

"Wha- no, you can't. Also, privacy space please." Melon scolded you.

Acting like a responsible teacher and gave you that side eye look before he turns back to his work. As his clawed fingers tapped on the keys as he softly sighs, asking you.

"What do you want this time?" He huffs, as the hybrid Gazelle almost opened his eyes to roll it.

"Your phone." You answered honestly. "please, yes im polite I say the magic words all the time heh." You joked about it as you stood there.

That pretty pissed Melon off, if you were alone with him he won't be hesitating to smash you with his laptop and won't patch you up with medical kit.

"Goodluck trying to unlock the passcode on that, and don't you try to beg for me to open so you'd play games with it." Melon gave you a side eye threatening look before his eyes focused on his laptop again.

"You betcha." You snickered and snatched his phone.

Quickly opening the camera to take pictures of the busy class. Some students were thinking how are you this comfortable around the teacher or you were just that crazy. Before You took pictures of yourself and making lots of expression a lot on his cam.

"If my phone got it's storage full, I won't hesitate to drop kick you out of here." Melon commented.

You didn't mind and everyone thinks you're insane since it's unusual for a student to be that comfortable to their mentor. You keep playing around the phone and even interviewed some students how is their day, you have your first victims. Legoshi and Haru.

You basically just asked of how are they doing, what's make their hobbies interesting and mostly what are they passionate about.

"for some reason, I studied Rabbit Ecology to be wary of Haru." Legoshi said to you.

He talks more about how he can manage his both time and being part of the drama club.

Time goes by, almost everyone in the class you interviewed using Melon's phone until the battery runs out. Ohno.

"[Name]! Give me back my phone!" Melon demanded, it seems he have finished.

"Everyone attention here, I'll be now teaching the Societal Hypocrisy." Melon said to them seriously still maintaining his eyes squinted to not draw any attention of him being a hybrid.

"After this lesson, you guys going to have a short quiz and blame it on [Name]." Melon huffs and started the lesson.

Few animals glaring unto your way but that's just them being immature. You sighed and gave up his phone and just listen your way to the lesson.

"[Name], sit right in front."

5:55 pm

Everyonelse left the classroom now with a sour mood and so you do. After his yappity yap of lecturing you of not touching his phone ever again, though Melon is still on the faculty.

Swiping at whatever shit you did to his phone, it amused him but at the same time just realized how you're actually putting others to danger unintentionally. A dark thoughts of which student will be a good dinner either for him or the black market after those interviews you've hosted.

He worked on uploading it on Beast G-Drive to save those videos and photos to treassure — which made him smiled and sighs to himself of a long day with new memories.

[arachnoia]

fan favorite | miguel o'hara | part one here

in which your little side hobby is being a cam girl, except things get messy when you’re your boss’s fan favorite

pairing- miguel o’hara x fem! reader

tags- nsfw, masterbating, afab reader, idk how to make tags ! (perspective also changes from reader and miguel !)

—-

He couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night but instead stared at his wall after he jerked himself off to the thought of fucking you.

Or at least the streamer version.

His sheets are ripped again thanks to his talons which were currently sinking into his mattress.

“Carajo…”

Now he knows who the streamer he likes is, and he doesn’t like it. Or he at least thinks he knows. The feeling of talking to you now makes him cringe.

Should he fire you? It would feel too awkward.

Or maybe it’s just him being crazy from not sleeping. Miguel has a tendency to not sleep. He either is too into protecting the multiverse to sleep or he’s horny and watches specifically your past livestreams to get by.

What can he say? He’s consistent with it.

“Miguel!”

Lyla emerged from his watch, dancing around his bed frame as he groaned, “What?”

She frowned and rolled her eyes, “Get up. I’m surprised you’re in bed at this hour for once!”

Miguel rolled his eyes and got ready, turning his lights even dimmer since he didn’t get sleep and his eyes were already sensitive as it is.

He stopped for a minute and looked at himself in the mirror.

His hair was messier than usual, his chestnut curls blocking his face. His eyes looked dead inside and in general, he looked fucked up.

He was.

“Miguellllll!”

“Ya voy!”

---

You bit your lip in frustration.

Yeah, your cut was fully healed and you slept okay. But that was only after taking melatonin and some sleep tea.

If that were not the case, you’d be feeling how you are now; stressed and anxious.

You didn’t know how to react when he called you Hermosa. That was someone a certain viewer from your streams called you and the phrase was associated with them. They would send a lot of money, which you were fond of.

Or maybe you misheard. Then again, it was quite nerve-wracking to be so close to your hot-ass boss.

“Y/N!!”

You quit brushing your hair and went over to your living room where Lyla was standing over your watch, “How’re ya doin’?”

You smiled forcefully, “Just peachy…”

“Gosh, what happened?! You look messed up, Miguel looks even worse! But anyways, just came to see how things are!”

You furrowed your eyebrows at what she said and sighed, “No, I just have a lot of things on my mind and I don’t know about O’Hara but he probably has his own shit.”

Lyla nodded and smiled, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

She looked over to your nightstand, where you just so happened to have a pink dildo that you used last night due to frustration. She furrowed her eyebrows, which you caught. You looked where she was looking and panicked.

“Hey, what’s tha-“

“I’ll see you at work, Lyla!! Bye!”

And before Lyla could even answer, you ran towards your watch to shut it off.

“Thank god…”

You looked over at your watch and saw the time which was 9.

You rolled your eyes and decided to skip today. Plus the secondhand embarrassment would be too much to bear.

___

Miguel frowned at his screens and looked over at the time, reading it to be 4.

“What the hell happened to Y/N? Have you seen her?”

He turned over to see Jessica Drew from below his platform.

“I, uh- don’t know. Why?”

She shrugged, “Dunno, just thought you’d know since you patched her up yesterday.”

All of a sudden she stopped and covered her mouth, “You don’t know, do you?!”

That question made his thoughts go all over the place. What didn’t he know? What happened? Did she know what he knew? Or rather what he thought he knew?

“Know what?”

Jessica rolled her eyes, “Y/N’s shy and young still. So I’m guessing yesterday was awkward for her,”

Oh…

“-Like y’know, since she got injured and stuff. Plus, I think she has a bit of a crush on you so don’t be as mean as you usually are if you see her tomorrow.”

Miguel frowned at Jessica and swung down, “I’m not mean.”

She snickered, “Sure, Miguel. Whatever you say- Hey, where are you going?”

Miguel turned around and pointed up to the platform, “You’re in charge. Lyla.”

“Yes sir!”

Jess gave him a surprised expression and frowned, glaring at him, “You still haven’t answered my question!”

“Don’t need to.”

---

Miguel felt a little sense of deja vu as he swung to your quarters. The sensation felt almost uncanny as he felt his stomach sink, “Shock…”

He hesitated as he climbed the fire emergency stairs from the outside of your building and slipped in from your open window.

And that’s where he heard it.

“F-Fuck Miguel!”

Then it went silent. You must have sensed something from her Spider senses. Miguel looked at the familiar flooring of all the live streams he saw, every detail of your living room engraved in his mind.

He turned his head to the sound of a door slightly opening, “Miguel..?”

You looked tired and breathless, only in your underwear and a tank top, your nipples poking through the thin fabric. He almost wanted to laugh. You were barely yelling out his name in pleasure and now you say it like you’re afraid of it.

“Yes?”

“Why are you here?”

“Why weren’t you at work? I know your healing abilities are fast.”

A smile crept on his lips as your quiet figure turned around. He felt his stomach doing cartwheels as he noticed you gripping something tightly. Something pink and curved.

“What’s that you’re holding?” Your reaction to his sentence alone made his cock almost twitch in excitement. Your lips slightly parted and looked away, “Nothing…”

He walked towards you, backing you into a wall, to see what you were holding a shot at it, holding a pink dildo before he knew it. Your face turned to one of horror and gasped, “Look-“

“I didn’t know you were into this. Y/L/N, I heard you.”

At this point, you two were only inches apart. He smirked as he could hear how fast your heartbeat went and how labored your breaths went.

“I- don’t have an explanation for that.”

“You don’t?”

He turned your face to look at him, towering over you and intimidating you. He began leaning towards your lips and noticed how you leaned towards closer to him before kissing him. If this wasn’t eerie, he didn’t know what was.

He started caressing your face, trying to be gentle before anything else until you took off your top and pinned him against the wall.

“Hermosa-”

You put your finger against his lips and motioned to his watch where he took off his suit. You kneeled down, looking up at him before smiling at his erect cock and starting kissing at his swollen tip, “I’ve always wanted to thank my number one supporter…”

“S-Shit. Just like that, baby…” He bit his lip and held back a moan. Your tongue grazed on his girth, driving him wild before your started pumping his cock. After teasing him a bit, you started taking him in by the tip slowly and bobbed your head to pleasure him.

He looked down to meet your eyes glazed with tears and gasped, “You’re so good, querida…Fuck-“

You smiled as you felt him twitch and let go only to place his cock between your tits. Miguel let out a groan as you started pumping out his cock again and releasing his load in your mouth.

Before you could even get up, Miguel lifted you up and pinned you against the wall again, where he ripped your panties off and felt his fingers through your wet folds, “Damn it…”

You let out a breathless moan and frowned, “My fucking god.”

He teased your folds with his cock, sliding it in slowly in you while you clawed at his muscular back, “M-Miguel, fuck!”

Miguel threw his head back from how tight you were, “You’re so fucking tight, hermosa. Just like that, mami.”

You cried out from the stretch as he inserted his whole length and held your leg up to his shoulder in order to thrust even harder, stuffing you full. You shut your eyes closed as the speed of his thrusts engulfed you in a state of euphoria. Like he’s been waiting to do this.

You looked up at him and chuckled darkly, out of breath, “Would you ever consider making a guest appearance one day?”

He let out an exasperated groan, “Maybe… it would be interesting.”

“You are a fan favorite anyways.”

—

masterlist

sol’s notes- i did not know how to end this and i have mixed feelings but lmk! also I typed this out, like yk the DRAFT AND I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED IT SO IM REALLY SORRY 🙏🏼

tags - @ashanomly @obi-mom-kenobi @tojisbabygworl @toaffes @celestia80s @thel0velykey190 @namorkawaiiwife @cheezit-luv3rr @neteyamoure @bammzyboomy @miyo-0oo @ihateuguys

[silens-oro]

You're My Borealis 1/2

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. MasterlistThe Last of Us Playlist

Joel Miller x f!OC Camille Daniels (no physical descriptors) Part 2 General Synopsis: When Joel and Sarah’s neighbor passes, her daughter Cam comes back home to Austin to settle her affairs. Sarah, in good conscience -and against her father’s wishes- could not leave this stranger to suffer alone and made it her mission to weasel her way into Cam's heart. Word Count: 5.3k Content Warning: Parent death; Mourning; Sarah the Schemer A/N: Title credit goes to Borealis by The Huntress and Holder of Hands. That song is so hauntingly heartbreaking and full of emotion. Go give it a listen! I started writing this back in November of 2023, posted it on here and it didn't get very much traction, so I've since removed it and made some edits. I love Sarah so much and I loved being able to explore the dynamic built between her and Cam. This will be a two part series that is already written, so I will be posting the second part at some point this weekend. We're going full Sour Patch Kid with this one, folks. The first part will be sweet, the second...is gonna kick you in the shin. Thank you for reading!

please comment & reblog :)

October 2001 Austin, Texas Suburbs

Funeral arrangements weren’t easy to put together. Moving across the country after a parent passes wasn’t easy. Continuing on with your life without them wasn’t easy. None of it was easy. 

The last three weeks of Cam's life was a blur. From getting the call about her mother, to the funeral, handling her mother’s will and dealing with her mother’s remaining affairs…the last thing she wanted to do was coax her late mother’s senior dog to eat when she couldn’t stomach the sight of food herself. 

“Come on, Mitch.” Cam pushed the dish of soft food over to him, but he ignored it and laid still on his tiny bed. 

Cam's mother got Mitch when she was only sixteen. Now at thirty she couldn’t imagine how distraught he truly was. The fourteen year old long haired chihuahua looked back at Cam with a sadness that no animal should harbor. 

Cam remembered when her mother brought Mitch home, and now looking at the white and gray hairs that peppered his once fully black face made her heart ache. With many of his teeth gone, his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth just the littlest bit, but it just added to his character. 

“I’m gonna leave this here. When you’re ready,” Cam motioned to the dish. “We’re gonna get through this together, bud.” She gave behind his ear a light scratch before standing up. At that moment the doorbell rang. Mitch cocked an ear in the direction of the door but otherwise didn’t move. 

A teenage girl, if she was even a teen yet, stood on the other side of the door holding a casserole dish. She had a timid smile once Cam opened the door. 

“Hi,” Cam greeted. 

“Hi, I’m Sarah.” She made a face to herself then clarified. “Miller. I live next door with my dad, Joel.” She motioned to the house on the right. “And sometimes my uncle Tommy.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sarah. I’m Cam,” She offered with a gentle smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Cam remembered how often her mother spoke about the girl in front of her when they had their calls throughout the week. Putting a face to the name was refreshing.

“I know, Mrs. Daniels used to tell me all about you.” Sarah said sweetly. “We didn’t want to bombard you. I know you’re dealing with a lot of complicated things right now, and my dad told me not to bug you, but I just wanted to let you know that I’m really sorry about your mom. We went to the funeral and the service was…really nice. She left a good impact on a lot of people, us included. I loved spending time with her.” Cam felt the tears she thought were pushed down far enough trying to claw their way to the surface as her bottom lip trembled. 

“Thank you, Sarah.” Cam's voice wobbled and Sarah’s eyes widened in panic. 

“Oh no! I’m so sorry! It wasn’t my intention to upset you or make you cry.” Cam sniffled and tried to turn her face, but Sarah had already seen the damage. “Oh, god -my dad is gonna kill me.” This made a laugh bubble out through her tears. 

“Give me a second to grab a tissue,” She left the door open. “Feel free to come inside.” 

“I uh…I brought you a pasta bake.” Sarah held the dish in front of her. “It’s nothing crazy. I’m not like…a chef or anything, but I figured you'd like a home cooked meal that you can just heat and eat.” Walking back into the entrance way with a tissue in her hand, Cam smiled at the girl. “It’s my favorite thing to eat when I’m sad because really, who can be sad while they’re eating pasta?” She explained with a shrug and it really made all the sense in the world. 

“That is incredibly thoughtful of you, Sarah. Thank you.” Taking the offered casserole dish from Sarah’s extended hands, she placed it on one of the various decorative tables that lined the entryway. “I truly appreciate this. Can’t tell you the last time Mitch and I had a real meal.” Her stomach clenched at the thought. 

“It’s no problem, really. Like I said, she was really nice. Most days she’d let me run around the yard with Mitch until he got too tired otherwise he’d just lay in his bed all day. How is he?” Cam motioned to the dog who still hadn’t moved. 

“He’s taken her passing really hard. I can’t blame him.” 

“He’s not eating?” Sarah asked when she saw his full food dish. Cam shook her head. 

“A little bit here and there, but not anywhere near what he should be.” Sarah stared at the dog for a moment before she turned back to Cam. 

“Have you tried ham?” Cam blinked at the girl’s question. 

“Ham?”

“You know, like the thin sliced stuff you get at the grocery store deli? He loves it. It has to be low sodium though. That’s what Mrs. Daniels used to give him as a treat. Do you have any?” Cam knew there wasn’t a single thing in the fridge other than some condiments that belonged to her mother that had been sitting in there for god knows how long. 

“Unfortunately I am fresh out of low sodium ham.” Sarah thought for a second then smiled, holding up her index finger. 

“Give me a minute and I’ll be right back!” She got to her feet and ran out of the house. Mitch grunted and curled in on himself to go back to sleep. Minutes passed and Sarah came whirling back into the house with a deli bag in her hands. 

“Ta-da! It’s not low sodium, but it is thin sliced. We have to make due with what we have. I’m sure Mrs. Daniels wouldn’t be too upset about it.” Sarah shook the bag. “Mitchy, look what I have.” She spoke sweetly to the dog. Cam saw his nose start to wiggle and that was encouragement enough. She stepped out of the way to let Sarah get close enough to sit on the floor next to Mitch’s bed. As soon as Cam opened the bag, his little head popped up. 

Cam could not believe her eyes when she saw him weakly get up and walk the few steps to Sarah who had already torn a piece small enough for him to eat. After sniffing it for a few seconds, he took the piece of meat from her fingers delicately and ate it. He wagged his little corkscrew tail and waited patiently for her to give him another piece. 

Cam stood there crying like an idiot while Sarah continued to feed Mitch until his little belly was full. 

“You uh…you’re welcome to see him whenever you want. Play in the yard or take him for walks. Anything you used to do with him, you’re still welcome to it.”

“Really?” Sarah perked up. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Poor Mitch is probably sick of seeing me mope around the house. Seems like you know him well enough.”

“We’ve been friends since my dad and I moved in a few years ago. He’s such a good boy, aren’t you, Mitch?” Sarah rubbed under his chin and his tongue flopped out, making her giggle. 

“I pretty much work from home, so feel free to stop by.” Sarah smiled brightly. “You’ll be good for him.” 

Sarah’s presence had become a constant in Cam’s day to day life after that initial visit. After the first couple of times Sarah stopped by, she just let herself in as if she had known Cam her whole life. Joel would be mortified if he knew where Sarah was, and just how comfortable she allowed herself to be in a stranger's home, but Cam wasn’t a stranger -not to Sarah. 

Cam felt like an extension of Ms. Daniels and that made her even less of a stranger. Sarah thought he’d be more horrified by the fact that Cam didn’t lock her door during the day so Sarah could let herself in. Sarah was constantly getting lectured by him for doing the same at home. 

Having Sarah over made Cam force herself to get out of her depressive slump. She started getting out of bed earlier than noon. Showering on a normal schedule.  She started running the errands she had been neglecting -an extensive grocery haul being the first thing on the list. Sarah was insistent that Mitch have his ham in the fridge at all times and who was Cam to tell the girl no? 

He’s 98 in dog years, Cam. A little lunch meat isn’t gonna do much damage at this point. Touche, Cam thought. 

Cam’s mental strength started to build and she was able to truly start packing away her mother’s things. For now they’d sit in boxes in the garage, collecting dust until she had the bandwidth to genuinely go through everything, but that was better than living with it presently in front of her. 

The pain it caused her to look at all of the knickknacks and things her mother had collected her whole life was too difficult to deal with daily, so in the end she decided packing it was the best option so she could finally breathe again. 

Every day that Sarah walked into the house it felt less and less familiar to her; not in a bad way, but in a way that let her know Cam was truly healing and it made Sarah smile with each new art piece that hung on the walls that wasn’t there the day before. 

The house started to match Cam on the inside and soon enough, she dedicated the screened-in patio at the back of the house to use as her studio. The fresh air and natural light was a godsend after spending over a month indoors. 

Sarah made it a habit to bring whatever was left over from the night before to have a late lunch with Cam before she had to go home. Before it was to keep her neighbor alive, but now it was something that Sarah liked to do. Sometimes she’d bake something for Cam too. They’d have a little picnic on the back patio and Sarah would look at all of the unfinished pieces Cam had brought with her from Boston and the new ones she had started since she decided to paint again. 

The bond they formed with each other was something Sarah didn’t know she was missing. She was perfectly happy with her dad, but she knew he was lonely…even if he’d never admit it. She couldn’t remember the last time he went on a date, and even then it was obviously unsuccessful. 

When Sarah looked at Cam, she saw someone she got along with seamlessly. Cam was kind and articulate. She was gentle and loving. She was everything her dad needed in his life and thus the wheels in her mind began to turn. 

“Not that it’s my place to complain or anything, but where have all your leftovers been going? Because they usually go to me,” Tommy stood up straight after he was bent over looking for something to eat in his brother’s fridge. “And this fridge has been wiped out.”

“They don’t go to you, you just take them.” Joel said matter-of-factly as he chewed on his piece of toast. 

“Very funny,” Tommy said sarcastically as he shut the fridge after coming up empty handed. 

“But I also want to know where the leftovers have been going.” Joel pointed the accusation at his daughter. Both men looked over to Sarah, who seemed very interested in the bowl of soggy cereal in front of her. “Sarah?” She sighed and picked at her nails. 

“I’ve been taking them to the neighbor’s house.” She mumbled, letting her spoon clink against the side of her bowl. 

“The neighbor? The Adlers?” Joel asked with confusion lacing his tone.

“No, Cam.” Sarah clarified without actually clarifying anything.

“Cam?” Joel asked once more.

“Camille Daniels, but she prefers Cam. The Cam that now lives in the house next door. Cam that now takes care of Mitch. Mrs. Daniels’ daughter. That Cam.” 

“Jesus, Sarah. I told you not to go over there bugging that poor girl. She’s going through hell right now after losing her mama.” Joel admonished his daughter. She brought up going over there to him once before the funeral and he put the kibosh on that right away. Clearly Sarah didn’t listen to him.

“You’ve been giving my food to the neighbor?” Tommy looked appalled. 

“At least she gives back our Tupperware. She washes it too.” Sarah glared at her uncle who wore a shit eating grin. She turned back to her dad with pleading eyes. 

“I saw her come out once on my walk to the Adler’s from my bus stop and I had to do something, dad. It was awful.” Sarah pleaded her case to him.

“How long have you been bugging her?” Joel interrogated, eyes narrowing.

“About a month.” She admitted with a shrug.

“A month?!” Joel’s already stressed eyeballs looked like they were about to pop out of his skull before he brought his fingers up to apply pressure to them.

“I brought her some pasta about a month ago and thank god I did; she looked like a walking corpse! I’ve never seen someone so sad and Mitch wasn’t eating! Cam didn’t know about the ham!” 

“What about the ham?” Sarah rolled her eyes at her uncle, getting frustrated. 

“Mitch eats deli ham and Cam didn’t know that.” 

“Is that where all my lunch meat keeps going?” Joel was beside himself as he looked at his daughter with furrowed brows. 

“She was locked up in that house for over a month before I started stopping by, dad. Now she leaves that house on her own! Daily! That’s progress! She’s starting to go back to kinda normal -and she’s looking less dead which I think is great. Cam also lets me play with Mitch and walk him whenever I want.” 

“When are you doing all of this? When you’re supposed to be at the Adler’s after school?” Joel looked between his daughter and Tommy, who just shrugged and let his eyeballs go back and forth between his brother and his niece.

“That’s beside the point, dad!” Sarah groaned. 

“Not when my daughter is in a stranger’s house and I don’t even know it.” Joel’s voice raised ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry! I should’ve told you, but I felt like she really needed a friend. I still go to the Adler’s, I didn’t like about that -I just don’t stay over as long.” Joel’s heart broke at his daughter’s admission. “And I was right to approach her, dad. I haven’t seen anyone aside from one or two people go over to her house other than the neighbors who knew her mom.”

“Have you been casing the place?” Tommy seemed very interested in what was happening. He pulled up a chair and sat at the table, stealing Joel’s remaining triangle of toast. 

“No…yes. I wanted to get to know her.” Sarah said with a shrug. “It’s nice having a neighbor who wasn’t around for World War Two, that’s all I’m saying.” 

“Sarah!” Joel tried not to laugh, but a surprised chuckle broke through.

“I love the Adler’s, but I am twelve, dad! I’ll take someone who is closer to uncle Tommy’s age if I can get ‘em.”

“And what did you find out?” Tommy asked, that scheming glint in his eye twinkled at this new information. Joel rolled his own eyes but listened nonetheless. 

“Cam is thirty and is actually really cool. I think you’ll like her, dad.” Joel didn’t like the look she gave him when she said it. “She’s an artist and her paintings are really, really good. Like crazy good. Good enough to sell for a living. She went to art school in Massachusetts and everything! She was talking to me yesterday about an art show she’s gonna have some of her paintings in next month at a gallery downtown. Said I could come down and see it if it was alright with you.” Sarah thought for a moment then continued. 

“Cam’s quiet, which I know you definitely like.” Sarah smiled innocently at Joel. He, however, was not buying the act. “She has an insane record collection. I saw some of the same things you listen to, by the way, and her house is filled with really cool art from a bunch of her artist friends from around the world, and a million different types of plants that she’s had for years. Did you know people kept houseplants alive for more than a week? Because I didn’t know it was possible until I saw it with my own eyes. Those plants are huge, dad! She has these long vine things that wrap around her living room and this big plant with leaves bigger than uncle Tommy’s massive head.”

“Watch it!” Tommy’s jaw dropped at the friendly fire.

“I’ve never seen houseplants grow like that. You’ve never kept any alive in my entire life -not even a cactus. Maybe she could show you how to do it. She said she got the vine thing from the grocery store. The grocery store! Can you believe that? Oh! and she told me a word that I can’t remember but if she snips the vine in the right spot, she can put the part she cut in a jar of water and it’ll make a whole new plant! It’s crazy! She just has an endless supply of plants in her house because she can just magically make more and more. Science!” Joel couldn’t help but take in the wonder his daughter had in her eyes as she spoke about the new neighbor…well, old neighbor. Semantics. If this conversation was anything to go by, he’d have to stop by at some point to apologize on his daughter’s behalf. Sarah’s probably talked her ear off for the better part of a month and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone -god love his kid. “She also lived in Boston before she came back here after her mom died. She said she misses it.” 

“Why doesn’t she go back?” Tommy asked. 

“That’s what I asked her. I’ve never been to Boston but even I know it’s…way better than Austin. She said that this was a new chapter in her life. She also didn’t want to sell her mom’s house. She grew up there, ya know?” Sarah stood from her chair and brought her bowl over to the sink. 

“She single?” Tommy asked with a megawatt smile and a wiggle of his dark brows. 

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah couldn’t help but giggle at how silly he was being. 

“You’re a dog, you know that?” Joel said with a grin of his own. 

“What? No harm in asking.” Tommy said with a shrug as he sat back in his chair. 

“Anyway,” Sarah deliberately locked eyes with her father. “Cam invited us over for dinner tomorrow night and I told her we’d be happy to come over and that you’d bring wine.” She threw him an excessive smile that told him not to be mad at her even though she was putting him on the spot.

“You what?” Joel sputtered. 

“I don’t get an invite?” Tommy complained.

“Cam also said you were invited too, but I’ve already warned her about you so don’t try anything.” Sarah said pointedly to her uncle with narrowed eyes. Joel snorted at Tommy’s slack-jawed expression.  

“So we’re going, right?” Sarah pressured her dad. “I already told her yes,” Sarah reminded. “but she insisted that I ask you…” Sarah rolled her eyes playfully. Joel looked at her unimpressed, but sighed when she didn’t relent. Sarah’s smile grew and she shouldered the strap to her backpack. “You’re really gonna like her. I’ll meet you both in the truck. Hurry up or we’re gonna be late!”

The door shut behind Sarah and Tommy looked over to his brother with a grin building on his lips. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was trying to set you up.” He snagged Joel’s untouched cup of coffee and downed it before standing up and following after his niece. 

Joel felt dread settle in the pit of his stomach.  

Joel would be damned if he used a word like smitten to describe what he was feeling, but as he watched Camille speak to Tommy with a flurry of motions from across the dining room table, that was the only word that came to mind. 

Cam’s house was everything Sarah described it as. It was warm and welcoming, and Cam’s entire vibe was comfortable. 

As the woman across from him spoke, he saw and heard exactly what Sarah did -what drew her to the woman who came back to Austin to pick up the pieces of her life. Joel’s nerves ate away at him when he was standing outside of the house, his palm sweating so much he thought he was going to drop the bottle of wine Sarah insisted he bring, but the second he stepped through the threshold it was like every nerve had melted away. 

“Ah, ah, ah!” Joel reprimanded when Sarah reached for the handle to the front door to let herself in as she had done a hundred times prior. 

“What? It’s open.” She said with a shrug. 

“How do you know that?” Joel questioned. 

“Jess leaves it unlocked…sometimes…most times, but only in the daytime so I can let myself in! Except right now because it is dark, but she is expecting us so those cancel each other out.” Sarah rambled, digging herself a deeper hole with each word that passed her lips. “Sometimes she can’t hear me because she’s in her studio so it makes sense to leave the door open, but I get that it’s a safety thing and I’ve told her how much of a freak you are about locked doors and…I’ll shut up now.” She shut her mouth when Joel’s eyes begged her to stop giving him things to worry about. Sarah rang the doorbell pointedly and Mitch’s high pitched howl could be heard on the other side. 

“Coming!” Sarah perked up when she heard Cam on the other side. When the door opened, Joel felt his heart nearly bursting free from his chest. “Hi, come on in.” Cam ushered the trio in as she introduced herself and Sarah spared a glance back at her dad who stood at the door with a very dumb look on his face. 

Tommy introduced himself with a flirty smile and Sarah had to stop herself from outwardly rolling her eyes. 

“You must be Joel,” Jess held her hand out to him and he stared at it, almost confused, before handing over the bottle of wine. Not what she meant, but Cam took it in stride with a kind smile. “Dinner will be ready in a few. The dining room is this way,” She started walking towards the back end of the house, knowing Sarah would herd the men where they needed to go. Jess heard muffled voices, but couldn’t decipher what was being said until she heard Sarah clearly. 

“Shoes off.” Sarah whispered to her father and uncle, who immediately complied. 

“They really don’t have to, Sarah!” Cam called from the kitchen. 

“They really do!” Sarah called back, shooting looks to her relatives. “They are civilized, I promise!” Joel shoved her off balance when he heard Cam’s laugh echo down the hall. “Take ‘em off!” Sarah hissed as she yanked off her sneaker. They were going to make a good first impression, if it killed her. 

The dinner flew by at the speed of light and the next thing Joel knew, Sarah was ushering them back to the front door to collect their things. 

“Thank you for coming by. I’m really happy to finally meet you both.” Cam smiled at Tommy and Joel. 

“That was delicious, Cam. Thank you.” Tommy brought the charm back out as Sarah began to pull him out of the house. 

“Thank you, Cam! As always, you’re incredible! Come on, uncle Tommy!” She yanked on the sleeve of his shirt. “I need your help with something and only you can help me with the thing I need help with. I’ll see you tomorrow, Cam! Bye, Mitch!” Cam’s brows furrowed at the weird behavior from Sarah, but chalked it up to her being a pre-teen. Joel cleared his throat and faced Cam. 

“Thank you for having us over. Dinner was…fantastic. I’ve had many steaks in my life, but that was incredible.” 

“Ah stop it,” Jess said humbly, a blush filling her cheeks as she smiled meekly. 

“No, really. It was great. I’m uh, I’m glad to see you’re doing alright.” Joel’s hands were stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans. His feet shuffled from side to side the tiniest bit, anxiety shooting through him.

“That’s really the reason why I invited you over here. Sarah helped me get back to reality. If she wasn’t so persistent, I’d probably be rotting in this house still. She helped me when no one else could, and I’ll always be grateful to her for it.” Cam looked up into Joel’s dark eyes as he looked back at her with pure earnestness shining back at her. 

“She’s a really good kid, Joel, with a heart of gold. I don’t know your situation, and it isn’t my business, but you’ve done a great job with her. I can’t imagine how hard it is to raise a kid in the best of circumstances, much less in the worst. All I know is that she’s gonna do something good in this world. She’s as sweet as honey and as sharp as a whip. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about with her. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck nervously from the praise. 

“Seems like your mama did the same.” His voice was soft, but the impact of his words made the earth shift off kilter for Cam. “Sarah really got on with her like a house on fire. She treated Sarah as if she were family and she’s deeply missed.”

“My mom adored Sarah and now I see why. She has that effect on people. You should be proud.”

“Every day.”

“Good, and I really like her too -for what it’s worth. She keeps me and Mitch on our toes.” Joel chuckled, stuffing his hands back into the front pockets of his jeans. 

“If at any point you need to put a boundary up-” Cam held a hand up to stop him in his tracks. She knew exactly what he was implying -should she ever get sick of having Sarah hanging around…

“Joel, she could be out doing god knows what. I know I was when I was her age and it took years off my poor mother’s life. If Sarah is choosing to spend her time with me and the old man-,” Jess nodded over to Mitch’s sleeping form. “-then I’ll gladly take her, with your blessing of course. She’s always welcome in this house, Joel, and so are you. Tommy on the other hand…”

“He’ll eat you out of house and home. Don’t leave that invitation open.” Cam laughed gently at Joel’s dig at his brother, but it was a genuine laugh all the same. “I still regret inviting him inside the first time. He’s like a stray that you have to keep feeding.”

“Duly noted.” The smile never left Cam’s face.

“I should uh…I should get going. I’m sure that whatever those two are up to isn’t good for me so the sooner I break it up, the better.” Joel stepped through the threshold and into the autumn air. “Thanks again for having us over.” 

“It was nice to have…more than just me in the house. Mitch loves the attention, too. Sarah spoils him.” 

“You don’t know it, but you are the last line of defense that is keeping Sarah from continuously asking for a dog of her own.”

“I shall bravely continue to hold the line, then. For your sake.” She chuckled. “Thank you for the wine.” 

“Sarah’s idea.” Joel admitted. 

“So are we crediting her for this whole night?” 

“I think we’re gonna have to.” 

“Then I was wrong.” Cam corrected herself with a smirk growing on her mouth. 

“About?”

“You definitely have something to worry about with her; she’s a schemer.” Joel blew raspberries as he exhaled. He caught movement from his living room window and his eyes narrowed. 

“You don’t even know the half of it.” He gave his attention back to Cam. “There are always good intentions with her, but she’s like a bull in a China shop when it comes to tact.”

“Sounds about right.” Cam hummed, a pleasant grin sitting upon her features. 

“Better call it a night.” Joel began to step backwards down the walkway. 

“You have a good night, Joel.” 

“You too, Cam.” With that he turned to go to the sidewalk so he didn’t walk on her lawn, but stopped himself midway as if he forgot something. 

“Hey, Cam!” Cam stopped the door from closing and nodded at Joel. “Can you do me a favor?” Cam's head tilted in question. “Can you lock your door, please?” She dropped her head with a guilty smile, but nodded all the same.

“For you, Joel?” She looked back up at him. “Consider it done.” He sent Cam a sweet smile and a soft ‘thank you’ before shyly telling her good night once more. 

January 2002 Austin, Texas Suburbs

Three months had passed since Cam invited the Millers over for dinner. It had been three months of skirting around each other and Joel still hadn’t made his move. Every day that passed pushed Sarah further and further to the brink of insanity.

“Can you please talk to him, uncle Tommy?” 

“About what, sweetpea?” Sarah had been yapping over the movie that they put on while Tommy was trying to pay attention to it. He’d nod and shake his head appropriately, but the kid talked a mile a minute, so he would’ve been lost either way. His niece sighed, falling back into the cushions of the sofa with a groan.

“About Cam. Have you not been listening?” Tommy chuckled. “I swear, no matter what I do, dad won’t budge and every time I try to talk to him about it, he gives me the look and tells me to leave it.” Sarah crossed her arms as she sat next to her uncle on the sofa. Joel was currently stuck at the jobsite and asked Tommy to grab a pizza and hang with Sarah until he got home. It wasn’t unusual and Tommy didn’t have anything else to do for the night, so here he was, getting his ear talked off by a twelve year old. “We’ve had her over for dinner, I’ve invited her to my soccer games, we’ve had barbecues and movie nights. I’ve tried to even sit on the other sofa,” She motioned with both arms animatedly, “when we watch movies so they’d have to sit together, but he leaves like…so much space between them, uncle Tommy. Like, they might as well be in separate rooms. I’m doing my best to get them to just see that they’re perfect for each other, but he’s hopeless. I know he likes Cam. He gets that dumb look on his face when I talk about her.” Tommy laughed, loving the dirt he was getting on his brother. 

“Sometimes you gotta let things happen naturally, kid. If it happens, it happens.” Tommy shrugged, munching on a slice of pizza. “Or…” Sarah sat up in interest when Tommy gave her conspiratorial grin, thick brow raised and all. “...you get Cam to make the first move.” Sarah blinked up at her uncle, the cogs in her brain started to slowly crank until a matching grin made its way onto her face. “Now we’re cookin, kid.”

Part 2 (final) please comment & reblog :)

[loveandleases]

last but not least our dilf Ardent! alphabet, please!

Exactly right, last and certainly not least. Below the cut ~

Cam ABC

G ABC

Kara ABC

M ABC

Isaac ABC

A = Aftercare - He is way too caring afterward. He will act like he doesn't care at all while refusing to let MC get up so he can clean them up. He won't say too much, if he sees he was too rough with MC you will hear him audibly tsk. Then he ensures those spots get extra care.

B = Body part  - His Adonis belt! Aka the v. If you have seen his Pinterest board you know exactly what I mean. Ardent keeps himself in shape and is proud of that part of his body. His favorite part of his partner is their ass. He loves to smack it, touch it, fuc-, anyways thats what he likes.

C = Cum - Absolutely refuses to fuck his partner until he gets them to cum at least once. If they are up for it afterward if he, if not it's all good. He got exactly what he wanted.

D = Dirty Secret - Lost his virginity to his father's secretary, in his office, and on his desk.

E = Experience  He is probably the most experienced out of the RO's. Though much have that experience was in his early 20's.

F = Favourite Position - Our dilf has several positions he loves. One of them is doggy style, the other butter churner. If his partner is willing, I'm sure he can find even more to add to the list.

G = Goofy - He will be a pain in the ass, and I mean figuratively. Teasing MC, getting them to beg to give them what they want.

H = Hair - Dark brown patch that is trimmed short.

I = Intimacy - Listen he can be romantic, he can be absolutely affectionate. Just don't let him know that you know it. If Ardent knows he is much softer than he lets on he will pretend to be such a bigger ass than he already is.

J = Jack Off - If he is in the mood he makes sure to masturbate when he can, knowing his luck someone will be knocking on his door, maybe even a new neighbor.

K = Kink - Totally into cockwarming. The idea of being slid inside his partner just to keep warm just makes this man even more of a horny mess. Also oral~

L = Location - Anywhere is good with him. His apartment, the elevator, even the hall.

M = Motivation - A nice butt, easily turns him on. Someone who talks back to him, won't take his attitude.

N = NO - Absolutely not pegging him.

O = Oral - Ardent Pine, is very good at oral. Absolutely loves giving it. The amount of effort he puts in until his partner is satisfied is honestly commendable.

P = Pace - Fast and rough or slow and sensual, or slow and rough. He has no specific pace. Ardent does what he thinks will satisfy his partner, or break them in the best way.

Q = Quickie - He is down for one, though it won't satisfy him nearly enough. So be sure to be ready for round 2, or 3.

R = Risk - Sometimes, it depends on his mood.

S = Stamina Easily 4. Sometimes 5.

T = Toy - He owns none, his hand is enough to wreck his partner.

U = Unfair - Way too much, an unbearable amount. Apologies in advance!

V = Volume - He can be loud, and he doesn't care that he is. He grunts a lot, groans. Most likely telling his partner to cum for him.

W = Wild Card - It's not uncommon for Ardent to answer the door while half-dressed and turned on. His jeans will not hide his bulge at all.

X = X-Ray - Ardent's 🍆 is 9.1 inch. Nice and thick.

Y = Yearning - Very high sex drive. Likely tied with Cam's.

Z = ZZZ - 10/15 minutes after, easily. He gets tired, he has a busy day in the morning. Forgive him!

[ms-nesbit]

Empire records (jason todd x reader)

Rating: 18+ (minors, fuck off)

Warnings: masturbation, reader is female, reader is bisexual, Jason Todd is not red hood, plus size reader

Summary: Jason is a cam model and is killing it, so he heads to the record store where he sees y/n.

Notes: honestly, i loved the idea of this one. Let me know if you want me to continue with an additional chapter or something.

ao3

“God…” Jason exhaled, a slow flow of cum spurting from his cock and onto his hand. Breathing labored as he came down from his orgasm, Jason revealed the mess he made to the webcam. “Fuck, that’s so much cum.” he spoke half-heartedly, the tone masked by faux sensuality and confidence. “What do you want me to do next, hmm?” he sat up in his computer chair and bit on his bottom lip. “Let me know, Babe. I’ll be here again next week. Till next time.” Jason ran his fingers through his hair, his tricep exposed to the camera. He flashed his signature winked before ending the livestream, shutting off the comment section and logging off from his administrative account.

Wiping his hand clean on a nearby napkin, he remained silent, his presiding persona crumbling with each minute after the stream ended. Jason hadn’t bothered to glance at the comments - only the tips, which he gratefully appreciated; they accounted for his rent and utilities, above other expenses, including the impromptu trip to Vanity Records he was getting ready to make.

After a quick shower (graphic details spared) and his skincare routine consisting of serum and spf moisturizer, Jason adorned his already-attractive figure with dark washed jeans and a simple black tee, which was layered by his black and red-striped leather biking jacket.

Once he tied his boots, he set out the door to the record store, walking to the parking lot - riding helmet in tow - to his motorcycle.

—

“I’ve told you how many times that we don’t carry that bullshit?” y/n spat into the landline phone, wrapping her cord around her finger. “Seriously, Joe, I don’t give a rat’s ass that your old town carried Tom Petty. We don’t do campy bullshit. Got it?” Before she gave the voice on the other end to even respond, she abruptly hung up, rolling her eyes and wiggling her finger free from the twisted cord.

She crossed her arms and sat back in her velvet mustard lounger behind the register, pulling an inventory sheet from the cluster of papers scattered on the surface. Clanging of bells attached to the entrance door temporarily distracted her enough to drone, “Vanity Records: if we don’t have it, your music taste sucks.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t. Do you have Foo Fighters?”

The voice was sardonic, but it didn’t stop y/n from giving a judgemental look to… a tall man whose black tee matched his (mostly) black hair, the white patch in the front pairing fondly with the low white collar on his leather jacket. He awaited her answer with playful eyes, though they seemed heavy. “If you’re talking about Nirvana, yes.” y/n began, crossing her arms in front of the keyhole cutout on the chest of her long-sleeved black blouse, which was coupled by black and red plaid pants, and a scowl on her face. “If you’re talking about the Louise Post-worshipping Foo Fighters? Also yes.” she stood from her seat and leaned over the clutter of paperwork, ignoring it completely in an attempt to flirt with the handsome stranger. “But if you’re talking about the mock-punk, dads-in-a-cluttered-garage-with-a-pipe-dream Foo Fighters? We don’t carry it.”

The man smiled down at her. “Could you show me?” he tilted his head ever-so-slightly, as if he wasn’t a regular customer already.

With a click of her tongue, y/n left her station, showing the man to a collection of vinyl organized alphabetically. She scanned at the waves of albums, distraught by the poor penmanship of the poor schmuck who had a stroke labeling the aisles, but made her way to the ‘dad rock’ section, reaching over and thumbing through different albums behind a poorly-enunciated letter ‘F’. In between all this, she failed to notice the man - who had been walking behind her - ingesting her outfit, and how the blouse accentuated her.

“Ah! Here we go.” She pulled out a plastic-slipped album titled The Colour and the Shape, and handed it over to the man, who grinned at her. “Anything else?”

Biting the inside of his cheek to prevent him from commenting anything creepy, he chose safer words instead. “Is there anything you recommend? I’m kinda new here, and I don’t really know what to listen to.”

Y/n pondered for a moment, before asking a series of questions: “What do you like to do on a Saturday afternoon? What’s your favorite comfort food? Do you have any siblings? And…fight or flight?”

The man was taken aback by the questions, confused by the randomness of the inquiries. As he thought carefully about his answers, he zoned out, unaware of the chewing of his lip that allowed a dimple to present itself to y/n. If she wasn’t committed to her shrewd demeanor, she would have swooned. “If it’s sunny, I like to watch tv, but if it’s raining, I’ll read and take a walk; I fucking love an unhealthy amount of baklava, but I will settle for eclairs if necessary;” the man began rambling, passion strong in his voice, “I do have adopted siblings, but no blood relatives that are living, and; I suppose fight. I don’t really know when to quit.” the man smiled embarrassingly at his own confession.

Responding with a hum of affirmation, y/n skimmed over the vast selection in the compact shop. She then briskly walked to a middle aisle, dusty tile floor scuffed by her combat boots, before stopping at an unmarked section, fingering through the untouched vinyl. She pulled one out and whipped around, presenting the album cover to the man on the other end of the crates. “Human Bloom. They are fusion jazz from Chicago, but have a nice tone to it. I would give them a try if I were you.” she handed the man the record. “Need anything else…?” her question hung on a cliff, dangling in hope for a name.

“Jason.” he replied, “and no, I think that’ll be all.” he tried to look for a nametag, but found a newfound attraction to chest-placed keyhole cutouts instead.

“Y/n. The checkout is something I’m supposed to take care of with a register, not with you and your eyes.” she admonished, quirking a brow before heading back to her post behind the counter, hips swaying with each step she took.

Jason watched, unable to speak by the way he was called out. He took larger steps to the checkout, head down as he did so. “Yes. Right. Sorry.” he stammered when he finally reached the register, patting his jacket pockets for his wallet before finding it in his pec pocket (or, as he calls it, tit patch). “How much would those be?”

Y/n clacked at the old register buttons, its labels washed out from abuse. “$52.75. Cash, card, or number?”

“Pardon?” Jason opened up his wallet.

“Y’know, you could tender with cash, a credit or debit card, or your phone number.”

Jason smiled widely at y/n, finally acknowledging her forward attempt at flirting. He set his wallet down on the counter and asked quietly, “Can you do that here?”

“For you? Sure.” y/n remarked, her ‘sure’ accompanied by a survey of Jason’s tall figure with her eyes. She tore a piece of paper and opened a drawer by her hip, grabbing a pen and jamming it shut before sliding the pair to Jason.

Pen in hand, Jason jotted down his number and passed it back to y/n, who already removed her phone from one of her pockets and entered the number into it. Jason watched her every move, impressed, albeit flattered, by her determination; until, of course, his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He checked it briefly: new text: you are as tall as you are hot, buddy.

Jason gaped at the text before looking at y/n. “I must be pretty short then.” he snickered, earning a scoff from the woman on the other end of the counter.

“Short on time? Patience?” she dipped her voice an octave. “...Self-control?”

Before Jason could respond, y/n’s coworker, Jade, greeted him. “Hey, Jay! How was work today?”

Jason stopped in his tracks. Y/n dropped her seduction tactics, returning to her guarded expression. “Yes, Jay, how was work today?”

Both employees stared at Jason with terribly different intentions, one with genuine curiosity, and the other with vehemence. “It was okay, I guess. Made some tips, so that’s why I’m here.”

“Good.” Jade chirped. “I would have stopped by on the livestream, but I dunno…camwork really isn’t my thing. Wish you all the best though!” She finished with a beam before walking away from the counter and to the back of the store, away from whatever tension she sensed.

“I can explain-”

“Over breakfast. Tomorrow.” y/n decided Jason’s fate for him, which he was happy was spared. It was rare he was forgiven for white lies, something that he was awfully rung out for. He accepted his dues with a nod and snuck out of the record store with his tail tucked between his legs.

—

Jason and y/n exchanged details on their confirmed date, so it was rather disappointing to Jason when he arrived at the Gotham Diner to…nobody. He checked his phone when the waitress seated him at a booth, and again after she poured him a cup of coffee. Nothing.

“Good morning, Jason.” y/n greeted out of nowhere, bringing Jason’s attention from his desolate thoughts to the woman now scooting herself on the abrasive booth cushion. He must have smiled, because y/n added, “Got your uppers for today?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Good to know your chipper attitude isn’t just your customer service voice.” he critiqued, to which y/n stared at him. “You look nice today.”

“Thanks. I think I stepped on dog shit on the way over.” she glanced underneath the table at the underside of her boot.

The silence between them was too agonizing for Jason to handle, despite it being short. “So, about yesterday, I didn’t really mean to lie like that, and I just wanted to say I’m-”

“Seriously don’t worry about it, man. I like that you’re not put off by me, y’know? A lot of guys are; usually it’s the chicks I hit on that admire my decisiveness.” y/n tore open a few packets of stevia, shaking its contents into her coffee before stirring it with the wooden stick. “Jade gave me intel on your job though.” Jason frowned, awaiting the imminent rejection he expected with the acknowledgement of his unconventional line of work. “I’m all for sex work, dude, so don’t sweat it, but camwork? Really? Isn’t that, like, outdated now?”

Jason allowed his shoulders to slouch as his nerves settled, pleasantly surprised by y/n’s reaction. “To be honest, I know a lot of people do shit like modeling, but it feels so…forced.”

“And camwork is different? I’m not sure how it is for guys.”

“No, you…you have a point.” y/n saw through him, and saw something he hadn’t quite noticed in himself; it was, to a degree, a facade. He didn’t want to jeopardize his vulnerability to the dark caves of the internet, so he simply hid behind something he wanted to be, rather than completely himself. Perhaps that was why he admired y/n so much, despite knowing so little of her.

The pair was interrupted by a waitress, who took their orders. “An egg-white only omelet, please.” Jason politely asked.

“And could you get me a large stack, please? With extra blueberries on top.” Y/n asked with wide eyes, clearly ecstatic by the antioxidant properties of the garnish.

After the waitress left, they returned to their conversation. “I do pretend to enjoy some of the stuff I’m requested to do, but I dunno.” Jason hid behind his cup of coffee, an absurd sight for y/n seeing a tall, broad figure hunched over. “To be honest, I’m kinda turned on by the idea of someone watching me. Plus it pays the bills.”

Y/n mirrored Jason’s shrug in rapport. “I see what you mean. If I had the body, I think I’d do the same, but there isn’t much of a market for stocky punk chicks.” she stated, a sliver of disappointment in her voice.

“I’d watch.” Jason blurted, before covering his face with his large hand. “Sorry, I-”

“One omelet, egg whites only.” the waitress returned, huge tray balanced in her palm. She distributed the plates and utensils. “And a large stack for y/n, our favorite regular.” the waitress beamed at y/n, who returned the sentiment. “Hope you two enjoy.” she left with a wink.

“Thanks, Wanda!” y/n called from her booth, giddily dancing in her seat when returning her attention to the stack of round, golden pancakes in front of her.

“You come here often?” Jason inquired skeptically, offended that she hadn’t indulged him in the information prior to their scheduling.

Y/n nodded and gave a “mmhmm” that was muffled by pancakes in her mouth. “You know, I used to come here in my college days.” y/n explained once she swallowed her first bite of the delectable breakfast treat. “I’d stop by with my study group - which was usually just me - and I’d sometimes order a few rounds of the stacks. Wanda there joked that my veins are probably pumping syrup more than blood, and I’m afraid I have to agree with her on that one.”

Jason let out a chuckle while cutting his omelet with a knife and fork with minimal scraping. “At least the vampires will get a tasty dessert if they bite you.”

“Maybe you’re right!” y/n stifled her laughter. “Maybe they’ll pour my blood over some waffles or something.”

Hand over his mouth to prevent omelet from flying all over the table and y/n, Jason chortled and mocked Dracula, “Mmm! ‘Vou must try this breakfast! Ze blood is vunderful!”

Y/n gasped jokingly. “How dare you mock vampires? They don’t all sound like that.”

They each took turns smacking the table and giggling, exchanging niche vocal impressions until Wanda returned with a warning. “You two are causing a distraction to some of our other patrons here. Try to keep it under control, okay?” she gave them a lambasted look. “Here is the check, since I know you two will probably want to continue your date.”

Date. Y/n blushed at the word. “Thank you, Wanda. And tell that rigid couple in booth twelve that we’re sorry, and we’re not real vampires.”

“But we will bite if needed.” Jason added with a cheap smile.

Wanda sighed and walked away, murmuring something incoherent.

As Jason was about to snag his wallet, y/n slipped a couple of bills in the receipt card. “I’m holding you hostage, so I’m paying. Don’t worry, pretty boy.”

Though the action was assurring, it was confusing when paired with y/n’s nickname for Jason. He found himself amused at the woman, and had to ask: “What are your answers, by the way?”

“Hmm?”

“Your answers. To the question you asked me yesterday. You never gave me yours.”

Y/n grinned innocently, sincerity splayed across her face. Jason wished he could have taken a photo of it - her eyes were just pretty. “Gimme a sec to think,” she sat back in the booth, head hitting the backrest with a thump. “So I usually don’t do anything except listen to music and read, I have two siblings - but three if you count the imaginary turtle I had when I was six, I love a good bowl of soup and some tamales, and I’m not wearing any.”

Jason cocked his head, perplexed by the final answer. “Not wearing any? Any what?”

“Underwear.” y/n blinked innocently, despite being well aware of her suggestion. “You asked if I’m wearing underwear, right? I’m not.” her smile grew bigger with each word, and her eyes dimmed darker with lust.

So did Jason’s. “Oh, uhm.” he was indecisive, unable to choose how to respond. It wasn’t that Jason was inexperienced the art of flirtation, it was that he hadn’t quite been this interested in someone in a long time, and it showed by the way his cheeks reddened (and cock hardened in his pants) at her reveal.

He refused to indulge, his pride in the way. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem.” It wasn’t the reaction y/n was hoping for, and her tone fell with it.

They stood and exited the diner together, loitering in the parking space where Jason had left his motorcycle. Jason noticed that y/n’s spark died off when he hadn’t taken her bait, and although he felt guilt, he knew he wanted to explore the relationship more prior to sleeping together. He feared that y/n took it personally;

She did. “I’ll text you.” she said, backing away before she gave a brief wave of her hand and disappearing into the crowd of Gothamites.

—

“Jesus, what is wrong with me.” y/n sighed when she re-entered her loft, littered with old clothing on the ground, and walls decorated with mismatched posters. As she untied her boots, she replayed the rejection in her head: Jason’s nose twitching, eyes shifty, and mouth open, pausing to choose whatever denial he believed was appropriate.

Her phone chimed in her pocket, but she neglected to check it; instead, she hovered to her bed on the other end of the studio flat, and tumbled onto it, her sheets making a punched ‘oof’. Deep breaths calmed her worried mind buzzing with defeat, and she wondered if perhaps she was, in a word, bamboozled.

It didn’t make sense: the flirting beforehand, way his eyes wandered too freely on her body like a dog to a treat, yet he rejected her…why? Was it what she wore that day? The borderline offensive vampire impressions? Or was it, in the end, her determination that hammered the final nail into the coffin of the potential of their relationship?

Heels digging in the sand, y/n set off on her research, beginning with Jason’s business venture. She sat up in her bed, fixing the pillows to better suit her needs, and reached over for the laptop on the ground. Y/n opened it and waited for the startup operation sequence, the fan vibrating over y/n’s lap as it whirred.

“Alright, Todd, let’s see what camwork you’re doing.” y/n murmured as she entered the site info, creating an account to access the lewd media. “A $7.99 subscription? I didn’t know these cost money nowadays.” she chortled at the virtual pricetag while entering her card info, reluctant to provide sensitive information on her archaic device.

Upon granted access, y/n’s eyes widened, blurred images revealing themselves to her, and she was, well, intrigued, to say the least. The first uncensored media on the site feed was Jason in a public dressing room, unclothed; his hooded eyelids and smirk enhanced his smitten look; his chest was naked, gleaming from the shop lights, and his shoulders were broad, leaned back into the wall of the dressing room; his torso was chiseled, the contour of his muscles shaping into a v near his pelvis, almost as if they were a sign from god for y/n’s eyes to point to his carefully trimmed pubic hair, which failed to hide the base of his thich, uncut cock.

Y/n hadn’t even looked at the caption, so when she finally managed to strip her eyes away from his holy figure, she grinned at the words, “Imagination - life is your creation, Doll.”

A fucking Barbie reference, and she dropped the ball? Y/n scrolled to drown her distraught, searching for a video she could watch.

A notification popped on the page: Robin Hood started a livestream. Click to join. Y/n scrambled to find her dreaded wired headphones, shoving the plug into the jack on the side of the laptop. She then clicked on the notification, instantly refreshing the screen to bring her to a livestream starring the man she had just joked with about Transylvanian vampire genitalia.

The irony. “This is unreal.” y/n muttered to herself as she stared at the tall man sat back on his bed - different than his usual post in his computer seat - as he flicked open a cap of lube, applying it to his hand before he spread it on his erection. He exhaled as he did so, toned chest rising as his fingers moved along his sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, this feels good.” Jason moaned, hips bucking into his hand as his eyes remained closed. Y/n rubbed her thighs together at the sight. “I’m already so close. I wanna come so bad.”

Y/n let out a low moan deep in her throat, mouth watering at the filth transmitted through her earbuds. She watched as Jason’s hand moved from the base of his cock to its head, his wrist twisting. He searched for a speed, but was indecisive with the way his hips shot up sharply, thrusting into his hand. The wet skin sound filling y/n’s earbuds was fucking dirty, and she knew she had to shower right after finishing the livestream - she wanted to see him come, hear the euphoric, obscene noises leaving his mouth.

“Fuck” Jason grunted, holding his cock with one hand, and the other roaming his torso and thighs. “Oh, shit, you feel amazing.” his words were so intent, sincere, as if he imagined someone actually riding his cock - or it was y/n who was projecting her desires onto him, wishing she could straddle his lap and be the source of his pleasure, bouncing on his dick until she milked him dry.

“Oh,” Jason barely pushed through gritted teeth, “Keep going, y/n” he whispered, brows furrowing. Y/n stopped and blinked at the screen, doubting what her senses told her she heard. “Please, please, y/n…” he said it again, this time in a plea that sent y/n’s mind reeling into another dimension as she wanted to touch herself, but wanted, more than anything, to drive Jason over the edge.

His breaths fell staggered, jerking at his cock hard as his bottom lip trembled. “God, I wanna come. Your pussy is so good,” he admitted, eyes screwed shut, “so fucking good.” his speed became erratic, frantically searching for God in a moment’s release, and y/n was right there with him, her panties soaked from the heavenly torturous sight in front of her. She wanted to tell him to come, tell him how good he feels driving his cock into her, continuously, and how badly she wanted to sit on his pretty face until she screamed.

“Shit! Oh, fuck, god.” Jason exclaimed, profanities slipping him like a ghost leaving his vessel as spurts of cum erupted from his cock, body stilling. He thrusted into his hand once more before finally relaxing, catching his breath in a laugh. 

He looked down at the mess of cum he made on his pelvic bone and torso, a splash landing all the way to his neck, and he shook his head. “Wow. Hadn’t had that much in a long time. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. See you later.” Jason smirked, propping himself on his elbows and biting his lip before the livestream ended.

Y/n sat in front of the computer screen with glossy eyes. She was his spank bank. She was. The reality set in, and it finally clicked.

But before she could allow herself to feel relief, free from the shackles of rejection in which she imprisoned herself, y/n quickly moved to her feet and grabbed her phone from the other side of the room to check the notification she dismissed earlier:

Jason. Hey, I hope I wasn’t too rude, but I don’t want to pursue any- (½) Y/n opened the message, careless of the read receipt that would be sent to him. -anything sexual, since that’s my job, and I’ve been used before. I hope that doesn’t ruin anything with you, because I do think you’re special, but I understand if it does. I’m here if you want a second date.

Y/n skimmed over the text, and reread it to check if her senses failed her once more. I hope that doesn’t ruin anything with you, she repeated. I do think you’re special. Y/n smiled widely as she opened up the keyboard to reply:

I thought I was too much. Usually am.

She rested her back against the wall, waiting for a response. Already, it shown as read, and the bubbles appeared at the bottom of their chat.

It’s not your fault, I should have clarified from the start. Are you free this weekend?

Y/n felt the melting of the glacier in her chest, and the cooling of the heat between her legs. She gathered her thoughts for a response:

I think I am on Sunday. 

Jason’s reply was instantaneous, and y/n was thankful games were off the table for them.

Meet me at the Gotham library?

Y/n smiled. Fuck yeah.

It’s a date. Jason replied, the three words launching y/n into orbit.

So much of an orbit that she hadn’t proofread her response. Btw, saw your livestream.

Y/n regretted it instantly, eyes blown wide and apprehension rising in her.

The bubbles came up on the phone screen before disappearing, then reappearing again. Y/n cursed to herself as she waited. Finally: Good. You looked absolutely stunning at breakfast. Wanted to eat you instead of the omelet.

Maybe y/n could get used to this, after all.

[the-offside-rule]

Pedro Acosta (KTM) - Rehab Day

Requested: yes

Prompt: this ask

Warnings: none

The faint sound of an engine revving echoed in the background of the living room as Pedro Acosta stepped through the front door of his shared apartment with his girlfriend, Y/n. His boots clicked on the hardwood floor as he tossed his bag onto the hallway bench. It had been a long weekend of racing, but a quick message from Y/n had him smiling all the way back to their place. He wasn’t sure who had had the tougher weekend—him on the MotoGP circuit or her, sprinting through an F1 triple header. He took a deep breath, feeling the calmness of being back home wash over him.

Pedro made his way toward the living room, hearing the TV playing softly from inside. The sight he walked into made him pause and let out a laugh. There, slouched on the couch, was Y/n in what could only be described as her recovery attire. She had a hot water bottle carefully placed around her neck, eye patches under her eyes to combat the fatigue, and her hair clipped up. She was wearing the baggiest sweatshirt she could find and around her legs? Her 'compression trousers' as she called them, even though everyone else in the world called them compression boots. "Are you okay?" Pedro asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Y/n groaned loudly, her head sinking deeper into the cushions as she raised a hand in a weak wave of acknowledgment. "I’m never going to be okay again." She mumbled dramatically. "My neck has never been more sore in my entire life, Pedro. Triple headers should be illegal." Pedro chuckled, stepping into the room and leaning against the doorframe. "It wasn’t that bad, was it?"

"Oh, you have no idea." She said with a dramatic wince as she adjusted the water bottle around her neck. "You should try sitting in a cockpit for three days straight, barely getting a chance to stretch, with a neck that feels like it’s about to snap in half." Pedro smiled sympathetically. He knew she always gave 110% on the track, but he had no idea how tough it must be on her body. "Alright, I’ll take your word for it." He pushed off the doorframe and walked toward the kitchen. "You want anything to drink?" Y/n turned her head slightly to glance at him, still not moving from her position on the couch. "Peppermint tea, if you don’t mind." She smiled. "Of course, I’ll be right back." Pedro said with a wink, heading to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Pedro returned to the living room with a steaming cup of peppermint tea in hand. He plopped down beside her on the couch, taking care not to spill any on the blanket draped across her lap. "Here you go, as ordered." He said, offering her the cup. Y/n slowly sat up and took the tea with a grateful smile. "You’re a lifesaver, you know that?" Pedro leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he glanced at the TV. All he was met with was her cockpit cam from the simulator for the next race weekend. "So what are you looking for?" He asked. "I kept losing time in turn 4, turn 8 and-" She paused, glancing at her notepad beside her. "Turn 12, so I need to see what I'm doing. I think I'm just not committing to the corner enough." She replied, crossing her arms. "You have to be the only person in motorsport that watches their simulator work outside of the factory or race week."

"More than likely." Y/n said, taking a sip of her tea and sighing. "But I wouldn't change it. I love this job too much." She paused, glancing over at him. "It’s just recovery days like this that remind me of how exhausting it can be." Pedro nodded in understanding, reaching over to gently squeeze her hand. "Well, you’ve earned your rest, no doubt. Just take it easy tonight." Y/n smiled at him, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "I will. Thanks for being so sweet."

"Always." Pedro said, settling in beside her. He gave her a little nudge. "But next time, maybe a massage?" Y/n grinned. "You're on."

[ginger-n-redd]

Trauma candy salad💫

Hey, I’m Bailey, and when I was diagnosed with autism, my mother kept me home from school for a week because she thought it was a sickness that came from toxins in the body 🫠 and I brought gummy worms!!!

Hey, I’m Cam, and when I was 7, visiting America, I got rocks thrown at me because I couldn’t speak English yet, and I ended up with a massive gash in my head… 😅 I brought nerds gummy clusters :3

Hey, I’m Bailey, and when I was 9, I REALLY wanted to dye my hair, so my big brother soaked my hair in like… some sort of heavily dyed drink. It was barely noticeable because my hair is black, but my hair sort of glowed red in the sunlight and my mom saw it… she freaked out and pulled MULTIPLE large chunks of my hair out, which luckily didn’t leave scarring! I brought Sour Patch Kids.

Hi! I’m Cam, and when I was like 10, my then best friend pinned me to the ground and forced me to eat TWO SEPERATE worms. I then proceeded to violently vomit. And I brought Mike n Ike’s!

Hi, I’m Bailey, and when I was 5, my cousin started being weird with me, teaching me stuff and then eventually SA’ing me, and when I told my parents they told me I just shouldn’t play with her anymore and nothing ever got done about it and she KEPT DOING IT and I thought it was normal until I learned what SA was. She was around 10, by the way. I brought cherry sours.

Hey, I’m Cameron. And when I got my first binder, my mother had the whole typical “you’re ruining your body” meltdown and then proceeded to take scissors to the binder WHILE I WAS STILL IN IT so she cut me as well. I’ve still got scars. I brought these gummy fruit slices!

Hey I’m Bailey. One time I got a B- on a math test and my father proceeded to get so angry about this that I broke a rib and lost three baby teeth early! And my brother broke his wrist trying to get in the way! And now my jaw is forever offset and makes weird clicking noises when I open my mouth and it hurts to eat and yawn. I brought Hi-Chews.

Hey, I’m Cam. And the reason I don’t have top surgery yet is because when I booked the surgery, the nurse began to give me a lecture on how I shouldn’t be mutating myself ‘without a reason’ and wouldn’t let the surgeon come in. That was kinda scary, but I escaped soooo… I brought wild berry skittles!

Hi, I’m Bailey. I have a sodium deficiency, and passed out a LOT as a kid. My mother called an exorcist instead of a doctor. He did not help. He did crack another of my ribs in the “exorcism” process though! I brought tropical skittles.

Hi I’m Cam, and after the whole worm thing, I wouldn’t eat as much, so my mother decided the best course of action would be to give me so much medication that I nearly overdosed. I brought Smarties :3

Hey, I’m Bailey and I have a similar story. When I started talking about how I can’t sleep, my dad made me eat so much melatonin that ALSO nearly overdosed and I got an addiction. I brought Jolly Rancher Gummies.

Hi I’m Cam, and when I graduated middle school, a 40-some year old man tried asking me out, and he followed me home after I said no. I brought airheads sour bites.

Hey, I’m Bailey, and when I was 15, my dad shot himself in the shoulder right in front of me. He survived, and he claims it was not a suicide attempt. No clue what that was about or why he made me watch, but I brought gummy sharks and Haribo cola gummies because I couldn’t decide between the two.

[m0thb0x]

name ideas pt2: ft - our name list

here are all the names on our name list for new alters (we got most these from tumblr) A Aaron/Aarron, Abbey/Abby/Abbie, Abyssette, Acid, Addison, Aero/Arrow, Aira/Ira, Akios, Alastor/Alostar, Alcreia/Alcreya, Alena, Alice, Alli, Allium, Alloy, Altan, Amber, Amyth/Ameth, Apollo, Arcane, Arsenick/Arsonix, Artemis, Aurelio, Ash, Asher, Ashley/Ashly, Ashton, Astro, Aurora, Ava, Aven, Avery, Avi, Aviary, Avis, Axiom, Azurite B Bam, Bandit, Baron, Bat, Bea, Beira, Biscuit, Blaze, Blade/Blayde/Blaidd, Bleiz, Bream, Breeze/Brease, Button C Cal, Calico, Callisto, Cam/Cameron, Canni/Canny, Capri, Casey/Kasey, Casper, Cass/Kass/Cas/Kas, Cassian/Caspian, Castor, Cecily, Celest/Selest, Celestine/Selestine, Cherri/Cherry, Cirrus, Cisco, Citrine, Cleasea/Clesee, Clipse/Clypse, Clove, Crew, Crimson/Crymson, Coco, Coley, Comet, Conri, Corbin, Cory, Cowen, Cypher, Cypress, Cyril/Syril D Dace, Daisy, Daggyr/Dagger, Dahlia, Dakota, Danio, Dash, Decay, Devario, Dewey, Deon, Doe, Dorian, Dmitri/Dimitri/Dmitrius, Dusk E Echo, Elianna, Elix, Ember, Embry, Emil, Eret, Erith, Esme, Esper, Espin, Ester, Eva, Ezra, Eztli F Fable, Fade/Fayde, Fannar, Faron, Faolan, Faye/Fae, Fig, Finch, Finley/Finlay, Finn, Fleischer/Fletcher, Florin, Flower, Foenestra, Forest G Gambit, Geniva/Genyva, Genli, Ghost, Glitch, Griffen H Haunt, Havok/Havik, Hayes/Haze, Helle/Hell, Hex, Hollow, Howl I Ike, Imp, Iris, Isley, Iviran, Ivy J Jester/Jaster, Jett, Jinx/Jynx, Joker, Juni/Junie, Juniper, Jupiter K Kairy/Cary/Kary/Kari, Kali, Kap, Kasen/Casen, Kestrel/Castrel, Kilson, Kip, Kirsea/Kirsey, Kix/Kyx, Knox, Koda, Kodiak/Kodak/Kodax, Koi, Kori, Krane/Crane, Krater/Crater L Lavender, Lavernia/Laverne, Lazuli, Leaf/Leif, Lidar, Lilac, Lilith, Loki, Luka, Lumi, Luna, Lupin M Maestia, Magnus, Makira, Mars, Malik, Maveon, Maverick, Melotone, Mercury, Micah/Mica, Milo, Minos/Minoes/Minose, Mirage, Mist/Misty, Mordechai, Moss, Myelin, Mynah, Myth, Myti N Nathan, Nell, Neptune/Naptune, Nero/Knero, Neutrix, Neve, Nihil/Nyhil, Nikko, Nimbus, Noah, Nocturne, Noir, Nyne/Nine, Nyx O Octavian, Okapi, Ollie, Onive/Onyve, Onyx, Orbbi P Paisley/Payslei, Parallax/Paralyx, Parsec, Patches, Pearl, Peridot, Phantom, Piper, Pluto, Pylon, Pyro/Pyrho R Radix, Ravenna, Ray, Rebus, Rez/Reznik, Rhea, Riley, Rima, Rin, Rio, Riri, River, Robin, Rocket, Rocc/Rocco, Ruby, Rumen, Ryker, Ryver S Sade, Saithe, Salem, Salome, Sapphire, Scarlet/Scarlett/Scarlyt, Secro, Shadow, Siv, Sketch, Skye, Soda, Sorren, Sparrow, Spectre/Spector, Spyke/Spike, Stitch, Strix, Sunny, Sunray, Styx, Sylver/Silver T Talon, Taryn/Tarin, Tavi, Teddy, Tetris, Thatcher, Theo, Thero/Thearon, Thorne, Tobias, Tobin, Topaz, Torin/Torian, Tova, Tovin, Trahira, Tulin, Tulip V Valerian/Valeryan, Valor/Vallar, Vampii, Vapour/Vapor, Vespin, Vivienne, Vix/Vex, Volan W Wally, Wisp, Wither X Xeno/Zeno Z Zev, Ziggy, Zin, Zion, Zumi

Written by: Eris 🍂🕯 Q: what does your name mean? A: my name eris means discord or strife banner by alien-emoji-art on tumblr

[starry-hughes]

“You scared the shit out of me, you know that? Calling from a hospital.” and “Can you kiss it better?” with Jamie where his girlfriend is the one hurt?

star’s birthday bash

-

you probably shouldn’t have been driving. you were from california, driving on ice wasn’t your best idea. it was january and you and jamie had just fully moved to a different place.

you barely knew how to get to a grocery store and had to use maps to get everywhere. you thought it wouldn’t be that hard to drive to a store, you were out of milk. that was until you hit a patch of black ice.

jamie got out of practice. he was still getting used to the new place. in the middle of his conversation with cam york, his phone rang. it wasn’t a recognized number but he found himself being pulled to answer it.

“hello?”

“hi, is this jamie drysdale? this is nurse theresa at the hospital. i have (y/n) here, she would like to talk to you.”

his heart sank. “jamie?” you voice sounded small. “where are you? i’m on my way.”

“there was black ice and–”

“i’m on my way (y/n) i promise i’ll be there soon.”

when he got to the hospital, he found your room quickly. the pain from your broken ribs had been the reason you were given nice painkillers. “jamie!” you exclaimed.

“hi. you scared the shit out of me, you know that? calling from a hospital.” jamie exasperated. “i think my phone is lost in the accident. i didn’t mean to crash.”

“i know, i’m glad you’re okay.”

“can you kiss it better?” you asked. he chuckled, “i would if i could.”

you puckered your lips and he leaned down to kiss you gently. “i’m already feeling better i think.”