#he looks so unintimidating

[zigadoodle]

GUYS

I WAS DRAWING ODYSSEUS AND WAS CHANGING HIS EYE DIRECTIONS

🤣🤣🤣

[galactaknightyaoi]

My stupid mirror self that calls me a loser and picks at my insecurities.

[enobariasdistrict2]

the way katniss describes the boys though. "thresh and cato are super giant and intimidating masses of murdering muscle" "peeta lifts bags of flour with Stronk Arms." and then in the illustrated version of thg they literally looked like normal motherfuckers i see at school every day. idk man, this was such a funny intentional choice for the artist to make

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some Guy Outtake/Prompt

Danny knew walking alone in Crime ally at two am was a bad idea. To be honest walking anywhere in Gotham late at night was a bad idea. That wasn't going to stop him from getting the ice-cream he was craving though. He was ten pages into a twelve page argumentative paper for his ethics class and he needed sugar to finish that last stretch.

Also he was Phantom, even if he was no longer an active vigilante he was still quite powerful. He had defeated Pariah Dark and his evil future self, he was not afraid of muggers.

Explaining that to the bats of the city, however, was not an easy thing. (It didn't help that they didn't know he could take care of himself but he still felt it was unnecessary.)

Danny continued to stare at Red Hood in his path. Hood stared back with his arms crossed, unintimidated by the kid a full head shorter than him.

"Oh common man, I just want ice-cream from the convince store!"

"There is an active gang abducting people and you're risking it for ice-cream?" "... there's a gang abducting people?" "Not for long. Look kid, its a bad night to be out so I'll escort you home."

"No." Danny stepped to the side and continued past the crime lord (anti-hero?) making it three steps before Hood got him by the hood (ha) of his jacket. Danny slipped his arms out and walked on leaving the other to stare in disbelief for a few seconds.

After two blocks Danny stopped, threw his head back and groans, "if you insist on following me can I have my jacket back?" It was thrown at his head and Red Hood shadowed him all the way to the store.

Danny ignored his unspoken "I told you so" when said store was held at gun point just as Danny got to the counter.

(But he still got his ice-cream so who was the real winner?)

Masterpost

[moonstruckme]

roomate jamess 😭😭😭💓💓🤍😭😭💓

I agree !

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!james x shy!reader ♡ 733 words

James gets the text just as he arrives home: Are you hungry?

He grins, putting his car in park as he types out a reply. 

I’m wounded. We’re coming up on our one-month roommate anniversary, and you still don’t know I’m always hungry? 

This makes a grand total of four texts between the two of you. You’d conversed a bit more on Craigslist before agreeing to let James move in with you, but barely. Your radio silence is much like your actual silence, but he���s happy to be making a dent in either. 

Your response comes while he’s fishing his keys out of his pocket. Sorry. Want thai?

James laughs, opening the door and toeing off his shoes. He calls in the general direction of your room, “I hope you’re joking about being sorry.” 

He’s hoping for maybe a reply via text, so it comes as a pleasant surprise when you appear on the stairs. You move like a ghost; if he put you and Remus in an old manor together, James is half sure it’d qualify as a haunted house. 

You’re in your pajamas, which means you must already be done with work for the day. James has noticed this is one of your habits; once you’ve decided you’re staying in the house, your outside clothes hit the hamper and you’re living in fuzzy socks. These ones, standing halfway up the staircase, are blue with white stars. Something about seeing you in full cozy mode makes James’ stomach twinge. 

“Do you want Thai?” you ask again, longer and in person. Several decibels quieter than he’d just been.

“Sure.” James gives you a smile, flopping backwards over the arm of the couch. He was going to cook pasta for dinner, but he’s a bit tired anyway and agreeing to the first bonding opportunity you’ve offered him takes precedence. “Do you wanna use my card, or should I pay you after?” 

“Don’t.” You wave him off, already typing on your phone. “I’m getting it.” 

“Not happening,” James replies. He starts digging in his pocket for his wallet, unearthing a half dozen gum wrappers and a receipt from last March. “But in theory, to what do I owe the honor?” 

Your eyes flit to him, something like accusation in them. James feels his eyebrows lift. “I know you don’t have that many leftovers,” you say. 

So, you’re onto him. “I cook a lot,” he replies with a shrug. “If there’s extra, someone should eat it.” 

“But why not you?” 

“Why not you?” he counters. 

You look suspiciously as though you might be biting down on a smile. A real one. “The point is, I owe you at least a meal. Do you want to see the menu?” 

“Sure, thanks.” He reaches out a hand. You come down the stairs to give him your phone, but once it’s in his hand your eyes narrow mistrustfully, fingers tightening on the device. 

“If you try to pay,” you tell him, “I’ll hide the money in your room so you don’t find it until you move out.” 

A laugh bubbles up out of him at your serious tone. “We live together, babe. I think I’ll come across it at some point.” 

“Not with your room as messy as it is.” 

Damn it, you’re right. “Fine.” James holds up his hands in surrender, credit card between his fingers. “But when I make dinner tomorrow, just eat it while it’s hot, yeah? Let’s do away with the pretense.” 

You sigh through your nose, sitting down beside him with one leg curled under you. You’re attempting something that’s probably supposed to be a glare. James would hate to have to tell you how unintimidating it is, but he may if you keep it up much longer; it’s almost too adorable to take. 

“I appreciate it, but you really don’t need to cook for me,” you say. “I eat plenty when you’re not here.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“That’s the point, James.” You roll your eyes, looking halfway amused. Shit, the day he actually makes you laugh he’s gonna have to bake a cake. “You’re not here to see it.” 

“Do you wanna watch a movie while we eat?” He passes you back your phone, having added his order to your cart. “They’ve just added a slew of new movies to Netflix. Also, for tomorrow, do you prefer pasta or chicken?” 

[luveline]

May I pretty please request an emergency medicine doctor!reader x Hotch blurb? I’d love to see both of them in careers that are difficult, yet despite that they still manage to be together because they understand each other so much. Maybe something with the rest of the team as well if it’s possible 🫶🏼🥹

Emily used to think Hotch would never be happy again. She’d drive him home after work, pick him up in the mornings, and she’d think about how miserable he was, the kind of misery that hooks you in its grip, has you turning to wine or whiskey just to keep breathing. 

She thought for sure he’d buckle. When Hayley died, he’d have to. How could you not? But he kept going and proved she should’ve had more faith in him, becoming the father Jack deserves, and, surprisingly, your partner. 

“You’re squeezing me too tight,” you mumble, just loud enough for Emily and the others to hear you where Hotch hugs you a few feet from the dinner table. “Why are you trying to break my back?” 

“I haven’t seen you in three weeks.” 

“Eighteen days is not three weeks.” 

“It might as well be.” Hotch peels away from you to give you a once over. Emily’s half jealousy and half fondness, seeing him love someone so obviously. “Are you hungry? I ordered for you.” 

“Super hungry. Do I smell like antiseptic?” 

“No, just soap.” 

“Well, that’s not much better.” 

Hotch puts his arm behind your back and guides you to the table. The team squeeze out hellos between mouthfuls and you take your place at Hotch’s side behind a steaming plate. You’re as ravenous as the rest of them after your long shift; Morgan can hardly get a word out of you for the first ten minutes, though he tries, and you attempt to be polite. Emily nudges him until he gets the hint to stop. 

“Here,” Hotch says, putting a heaping of his food onto your plate with a large spoon. 

“Stop.” You attack his spoon with a fork. 

“It’s fine, you like it more than I do.” 

“Don’t care. You need your energy. I’m going to make you carry me up the stairs home.” 

He’s unintimidated. “Ah.” 

“Ah,” you echo. “You sound so doubtful.” 

Hotch looks like he might try to keep flirting with you, but he gives in quickly, betraying how much he’s missed you with a hand slipping under the table. Emily sees his fingers curl over your knee, averting her gaze with a feigned sip of coke. 

She can deduce the silent question you ask one another about anyways. 

“We’ll have dessert,” you say. We won’t skip out early. “What are you having, Dr. Reid?” 

Hotch orders you three different things, which you eat fast. 

“They’re not feeding you at the hospital?” Rossi asks. 

“Three emergency transfers in twelve hours,” you explain, slouching now into Hotch’s side, one slow inch at a time. “I didn’t have time for much.” 

“That’s not healthy,” Hotch murmurs in concern. 

“I’m sure I can ask any of your friends about your eating habits and find a similar schedule,” you brush him off, raising your gaze to Emily, then Morgan, then Rossi and Reid. Everyone smiles the same way. Hotch is caught, and his laugh jostles your shoulder. 

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘do as I say, and not as I do?’” he asks. 

God, Emily thinks with a huff of a laugh she can’t contain, get a room. 

“He likes that one,” Spencer says. 

“I don’t doubt it.” You lift your lips to his jaw and press a peck to the line of it. One, then two. “Maybe that’s why we've lasted as long as we have. Mutual disregard for our wellbeing.” 

“And a great deal of care for each other,” Rossi says, nodding sagely. “This is why my marriages never last.” 

“Is that why?” Spencer asks. 

“You’ve gotten to be quite the lark.”

“Lark,” Hotch whispers to you. Emily, sitting at his other side, might be the only one who hears, the others distracted by Spencer and Rossi’s ensuing squabble.

“Scoundrel,” you agree. 

“How’s your head now?” 

“It’s gonna be a hundred percent better if you give me that,” you say, pointing hopefully at his full drink. 

He doesn’t hesitate to press it into your hand. Emily would never suspect you hadn’t seen one another for weeks; you move and he follows. You rub your cheek against his shoulder. He touches his nose to your hair, his eyes shuttering closed for one stolen, blissful second. “Missed you,” he says under his breath. 

Emily looks away with a smile. Hotch isn’t hopelessly miserable anymore. 

[kissesbyliz]

simon having beef with your dog.

the thing hates him, he's sure. he's been aware of the fact ever since the first time it jumped up at him, indulging itself with a nice helping of his brand new jeans.

"oh my god!" you gaped at his jeans with horror, immediately scooping the offending animal into your arms. even within its confines, the creature still manages a growl that simon swears is nothing less than evil.

between the sweet apologizes falling from your lips and the way your eyes widened in embarrassment, simon unsurprisingly found it difficult to stay mad. after fixing him a change of clothes and apologizing profusely for your pet's behavior, you urged your pet into its play pen to prevent her from ruining the rest of the night. she stared up at you with wide eyes, letting out a pitiful whine as she was obviously not used to being locked up.

though the inner dog-lover in him should be feeling a twinge of guilt at the sight, simon couldn't deny a sense of victory.

at least now, they were even.

they used to be even. used to. his score was ultimately decimated after countless incidents of your dog peeing all over his boots, stealing his food, and gnawing it's way through the souvenirs he brought for you from missions.

why the thing hates him so much is beyond him. ever since the first incident, he's tried every bribery method under the sun. from endless treats to long walks in her favorite park, all his attempts ended the same way: with his hand being damn near ripped off his arm.

after weeks of no progress, you had brought up the idea of meeting at his place instead. simon refused. he couldn't handle the thought of you traveling the hour it takes to get to his apartment, just to see him. after all, if he could handle countless hordes of enemies and disarm bombs, he sure as hell could handle some dog.

which of course, brings him to his current predicament.

after a particularly long deployment, you've taken the liberty of planning a special welcome home dinner for him and his task force. nothing big, just a small gathering to celebrate a reunion between friends as well as a job well done.

you insisted on doing all the work of preparing the food and letting him relax on the couch. it was a dinner in celebration of him as well, after all. the very last thing simon wanted was to leave you to do all the work, but if he was going to do anything about your dog, he had to do it now.

because even though he'd call his task force some of the closest friends he has, he pales at the idea of them finding out that a dog has him beat. he can already imagine how they'll react: a (horribly) stifled laugh from price, a smart jab from gaz, and an unashamed guffaw from johnny. and of course, the endless amounts of taunting that'll be flowing throughout the base. yeah, that's not going to happen. least of all, in front of his girl.

he approaches the play pen which houses your dog slowly, attempting to seem as unintimidating as he can for someone of his stature. your pet immediately takes notice--has had an eye laser pointed on him since the moment he arrived--and starts up a low growl.

"hey..girl..." he greets awkwardly, crouching down in a manner that allows his every action to be observed. it's evident that your dog couldn't be less happy with his presence, with the way she moves to the opposite end of the enclosure. he sighs, dropping onto the floor next to the pen and wincing at the slight pain shooting up his tailbone.

"why d'ya hate me so much, huh?" your dog huffed, closing her eyes and assuming a sleeping position. simon didn't even know dogs were capable of the silent treatment. unfazed, he pushes on, speaking to the dog as if it miraculously developed the ability to understand him.

"all i wanna do is spend time with my girl, and all you do is try to make me look like the bad guy." he shoots her an unimpressed look. "it's not like i'm gonna take her away, y'know."

to simon's surprise, the dog rises and begins to slowly approach him and for once, without utter disdain in her eyes. simon really didn't expect that to work, but he supposes he doesn't have any room to complain. he gulps -- he's never made it this far before. carefully, he raises a big hand up to stroke over the dog's soft fur.

in a flash, the canine snaps her teeth onto the surface of his skin. hard.

"fuck--!" he snarls, snatching his hand away. at that moment, the doorbell rings and he cradles his aching hand to his chest. he stands up, glaring hard at the animal as he goes to answer the door.

"hey, there's my favorite girl!" johnny pushes past him and beelines for the play pen, where your dog is excitedly standing on its hind legs to greet him. simon's never seen her tail wag so fast. she eagerly yips for him to come closer, bowing to allow him to scratch behind her ears.

"oh, and hey to you too, i guess." johnny briefly nods in acknowledgement in your direction. you playfully roll your eyes, giggling at his display.

"simon. 's good to see you." price offers a brief nod, and kyle pats him on the shoulder before they both walk around him to join johnny at the play pen. the dog takes to the rest of his team just as easily, greeting them all with tail wags and licks to the hand.

simon riley is at a loss.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Doom of Ghis (Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You decide to trick a Queen. It doesn’t quite go according to plan.

Warnings: Smut. Corruption kink. Twisting of religious rituals. Dubious consent? Fingering. Playing doctor.

A/N: I am tired of writing older man x younger woman. Meet older woman x younger woman. Palate cleanser in the middle of writing a new character. Also, I miss writing girls.

“THIS IS NOT a task fit for a Queen.” Rhaenyra looks at Corlys with narrowed eyes. Her annoyance at her own council has begun to build like a sore, and threatens to explode at any given moment.

Presently, it can’t. It would be in poor taste to do during dinner. Lord Corlys has asked her if they could sup in her quarters, to discuss a private matter. She had been expecting war preparations, not this.

“Yet it is a task we require of you.” Her Hand answers, unintimidated by her glare. Rhaenyra reminds herself it is a good thing, not to be feared. She wishes to be a wise Queen, one who is remembered as a champion of peace and not as the next Maegor the Cruel. She wants to be exactly like her father. Viserys the Peaceful.

Viserys the Peaceful never throttled his Hand. And his was much more irritating than hers.

“Why can’t we just… Forgone the custom?” She asks him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The House of Pahl is already offended by the offer we made them. Marrying one of their daughters, even if it is one of the ones from the second son, to a bastard is an insult. Not having Graces present for the ritual is, too. We cannot afford to offend them any further.”

“Can’t Baela do it?” It sounds childish even to her ears. Rhaenyra isn’t quite sure why she feels so awkward about the ritual, it’s hardly as if she will see something she is unfamiliar with herself. She bets the girl will be more awkward than her, and the thought of having to soothe her seems unappealing. “Or Lady Mysaria?”

“Both of them are quite busy with their duties.” Lord Corlys takes a second to drink from his goblet. It stings, the unspoken fact that Rhaenyra is not. “The Lady Mysaria would provide greater offense, considering her… Previous occupation and lack of relationship to me. As for Baela, I do not feel prudent to recall her from her patrols.”

“My own kinship to you is fairly removed.” Rhaenyra cuts a piece of venison and takes her time chewing. When a Queen wishes to speak, men wait. And it is important to remember her Hand of that fact, especially since he is asking favors. “I am, what? Your second niece? And only through marriage.”

“They feel honored that a Queen will perform the ritual for their daughter. And we need their coin.”

“Slaver’s coin.”

“Coin that will win us the war.” Lord Corlys interjects. “That will buy men. Armor. Weapons. Food.”

Rhaenyra doesn’t answer. She simply cuts another piece of venison.

YOU SIT ON the table, legs hanging off the edge. A fire is lit, and a tea set is already prepared on another low table, along with cushions. A small, dragonglass dome, covers the cakes the Queen and you will share. The message is clear. Your family expects the ritual to go without a hitch.

You aren’t too sure. This Queen you will meet, who will take the place of your elder because your betrothed has no suitable relative to do so, isn’t Ghiscari like you. She is Valyrian. You hate Valyrians.

Cloaked in your pink veil, and wearing your simplest white shift, you await her arrival. You remember your mother’s words. Befriend her. Let her use you and touch you as she pleases. Do not try to instruct her to perform the ritual the right way.

What your mother suggests, simply put, is to see if she can be seduced while being convinced she is the one doing the seducing. Her friendship could give House of Pahl an even greater advantage that you will be getting after you become Lady of the Tides.

Not only control over a fleet that can block trade routes by marrying a Valyrian bastard. Friendship to a Queen. Lover to one. A whispered word in her ear and your wishes shall be law if you play your cards right.

There is no shame in it, your father had said, when they had instructed you as to how to behave. The Red Graces and White Graces do the same and their blood is as noble as yours. They serve the Gods of Old Ghis by providing pleasure to many men. What is asked of you is to only pleasure a single woman.

A single woman who is Valyrian. Whose ancestors burned Old Ghis, and forced yours to flee to Mereen.

It’s not that you object to the fact that it is a woman. You object to Valyrians. They are ugly little things, with queer facial features and skin and hair too pale.

But the woman who enters the room is anything but. She is beautiful, dressed in a black gown that makes her look regal. She has a sweet face, and her distasteful colorless hair is pulled back. It looks less offensive that way, you suppose.

“Your radiance.” You address, lowering yourself from the table you sit in and curtsying. The title has never felt more apt. Her face is beautiful despite her age, and her body shapely.

“Good morrow.” The Queen says. Her voice is delightful too, strong and commanding, with a feminine quality to it. Seducing her now doesn’t seem like much of a chore. “We use the title of Your Grace here.”

“Your Grace.” You rectify, and give her another curtsy. Underneath your veil, you are giving her an apologetic smile. She cannot see it.

You wonder what she thinks of you, cloaked in a soft pink veil that covers both your hair and face. Thanks to the artfully draped pleats, she cannot see you, but you can see her.

She probably thinks you look like a strawberry dipped in clotted cream. You cannot wait to marry and use the Velaryon colors. They look much more dignified than yours.

“I was explained by your Lord Father that I will become your elder after this ritual.” She says, voice full of gravitas. “So there is no need for you to curtsy so much. I hope to become a mother to you.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” You are thankful she cannot see your face, or you would burst out laughing. It’s what is supposed to happen, yet you are not counting on it. “I am sure you are a busy woman. We should begin soon.”

You sit yourself on the table again, feet dangling. The table is the perfect height for bending you over it, but you do not comment on it.

“…I… Of course.” The Queen seems taken aback by how straightforward you are, which makes you smile.

You wait for her to come to you. She hesitates, as if unsure of herself, before coming to stand between your parted legs.

Slowly, her hands pull your veil back. You school your expression into one of quiet dutifulness.

Rhaenyra gasps slightly when she sees your face. You do not allow your face to change, but internally, you are dancing a gig. The veil had been a stroke of brilliance on your father’s part. He always said the best part of worshiping a Red Grace was the reveal.

“You are a beautiful young woman.” She says, starting to map out your features with her fingertips. Her touch is soft, as if scared of hurting you. You play the part of the blushing maiden, letting out a gasp of your own when she traces your lips. Her eyes darken. “Alyn is a very lucky man.”

This Alyn is an accomplished sailor, you hear, and on the fast track to become a Captain. His recent acknowledging by Lord Corlys only propels him higher. You have heard the men admired him from starting from below, unlike other Lord’s bastards.

It’s not a bad prospect. Any man can give you children, you know. It’s not a difficult task. Not every man can give you a fleet.

“And I am very lucky to be marrying him.” You say, after a while. Rhaenyra’s hands have stayed where they are, lingering on your jaw. She doesn’t dare move further down. Her eyes are focused on your lips, as if noticing how intimate the embrace the two of you are in.

Her hands, holding your jaw. Her hips, nestled in the space made by your spread legs.

She goes back to tracing your lips with her thumb, a storm brewing in her eyes. She is confused, this Queen of yours. The intimacy is getting to her, but her morals are holding her back. Rhaenyra is not supposed to take advantage of a maiden she is supposed to welcome as her daughter.

You decide to push her a bit. You take her thumb inside your mouth, cradling it softly in your tongue. Her eyes dart to yours, but you close them, as if delighted by what you are savoring.

Rhaenyra pulls back.

“What are you doing?” She snaps at you. Your eyes open, but your lips remain tantalizingly parted still.

“You are meant to inspect me wholly.” You try your best to sound shy. “Even inside. My mother said…”

Guilt passes once again over her features. You are a poor naive girl, who doesn’t feel anything like arousal. She is the one getting a sick satisfaction over a sacred ritual.

It’s not the truth, of course. But it is what she believes.

She slips her thumb inside your mouth again. You close your eyes, scrunching them tightly. Feigning embarrassment once more. Her thumb presses down on your tongue, drawing a line. It makes drool begin to gather at the corners of your mouth.

As Rhaenyra checks your molars with a careful press of her fingers, warmth begins to accumulate in your core. You open your eyes, looking at her.

She seems absorbed by the task. The Queen barely notices you are holding her gaze, fascinated by your warm mouth. She removes her thumb, wiping it on your chin.

Her hands trail lower. Down your jaw, and to your neck. She keeps her touch light, making you squirm. Everywhere she touches, a trail of goosebumps follows.

“Shh, sweet girl. You are doing so well.” She rubs your shoulder, probably thinking you shake from nervousness and not from pure, sheer want. “So well for your Queen.”

You feel your flower growing slick with her words. You worry if that will give you away when she reaches that part of the examination. Rhaenyra might yet discover that you are not as innocent as you pretend to be. It only makes you wetter.

Would she punish you if she found out? Pinch your little pearl until you cried? Spank your rear?

Her hands slip the straps of your shift down your shoulders. You are left bare in front of her.

Your nipples are pebbled. They have been since she started touching you.

The Queen doesn’t touch you there at first. Not where you need her the most. Instead, her hands trail over your shoulders, teasing you with promises of what is to come. She traces imaginary patterns, all the way to your forearms.

You fight the urge to whine. You just sit there, eyes on your lap, not attempting to cover yourself nor to help her, the picture of dutifulness.

She runs one of her fingers over a taut nipple. You hiss. She gives it a pinch, carefully observing your face. Perhaps wondering how far you will let her go.

You say nothing. She pinches the other one, gently. Then, she cups your breasts in her hands.

“A pretty pair, these.” Rhaenyra licks her lips. You wish she would wrap them around your nipples instead. She continues to give your breast soft caresses, squeezing from time to time. An amused smile appears on her face, when she sees how you twitch when she accidentally brushes your nipples.

“Lay down, love.” She orders you, pushing your stomach. You obey her, laying flat on the table. A feast spread for a dragon.

Her hand lowers your shift even more, exposing your belly button. She touches under it, over your womb. She presses down on it, and you gasp.

The pressure feels odd. It feels good, too. It’s not something you would have thought to do to yourself when playing on your own, but her hand feels scorching hot over your skin.

“Hurts?” She asks you, softly.

“Feels strange.” You reply. “Good.”

Rhaenyra hums. Her hands pull your shift down fully, and take it from you. You close your legs tightly, embarrassed at how wet you are. Your father had ordered you to remove all your body hair before the ritual, so you are bare for her to observe. Completely.

“Spread your legs, sweet girl.” It’s said with a frown. Her hand grazes your bare mound, puzzled by it.

You spread your legs. Your folds unstick with the motion, slick shining between your legs.

“It’s customary. To facilitate the checking of the womanly parts.” You offer her, suddenly embarrassed.

“I see.” Rhaenyra says, spreading your folds. It only makes your cunt leak more. She presses on your pearl with her thumb, almost playing with it. Her face is dark, eyes almost all pupils. No longer a queen, but a dragon.

She doesn’t comment on your wetness, but swirls one of her fingers on it, before dragging it all the way to your pearl. Then, she presses a finger into your hole, checking your maidenhead.

You barely muffle your squeal.

“Tell me.” She says, tone almost conversational, starting to rub circles on your pearl. “Is this customary, too?”

Your mind blanks. Your famous ability to talk your way out of almost everything fails you. She keeps rubbing maddening circles on your pearl, and when you do not answer, she slaps your flower.

You yowl like a kitten.

“Answer your Queen.” She orders.

“No, Your Grace. It’s not.” You have your answer, you suppose. What would she do? Spank your flower. She does so again, making you tense. The pain feels strangely good, forcing blood to rush to the area, warming it. When Rhaenyra runs her fingers over your hole after, everything feels much more heightened.

“Naughty girl.” She scolds. “Get down from the table, and bend over it.”

You obey her, a bit breathless. Rhaenyra remains fully dressed, with a stern look in her face that makes you tremble. Your naked body is now on display, but under her heated gaze, you feel no shame.

You let your upper body hover slightly over the table, hips bent, your backside and flower on display. She pushes down on your shoulder, until your face and chest are squashed against the rough wood of the table.

The wood grains feel interesting against your nipples, making you squirm. You are not sure if the rough scrape is pleasant or not.

“Don’t move.” Rhaenyra says, and spreads your cheeks open. You can feel your other hole winking at her, and she makes a pleased sound. She pushes a finger inside, and quickly retreats it when you tense.

“You have such a sloppy cunt, sweet girl.” She says, voice almost impressed. “It betrays your intentions so easily.”

She begins to torture your pearl once more. She presses inside, rubbing at something that makes your cunt gush.

Rhaenyra is relentless. You try to squirm, but her other hand is firm between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned down and spread for her. Her motions get faster, touching you in the way you like best. Your peak comes fast and unannounced, making you let out a muffled yelp.

“I think I have to examine you again.” She says, coyly. “Only to make sure.”

You cannot wait.

[stealingyourbones]

Short DPXDC Prompts #960

Dan was just depositing a check at Central City Bank when the doors burst open revealing Captain Cold, cold gun in hand, and a confident sneer on his face. “If everyone does as I say, no one will be hurt.” Everyone else at the bank knew the drill. Everyone in their right mind in Central City is ensured for Rogue theft. They all start removing jewelry and valuables from their person and get ready to hand it to Cold. Dan didn’t do anything. He just stood there standing at Captain Cold thinking how he can avoid this. He has a meeting with a client in ten minutes for his independent business coaching business and he cannot be late. He unfroze and started walking to Cold, intentionally looking as unintimidating as possible. Captain Cold keeps his eyes and gun trained on Dan, eyes with his glasses but no doubt calculating every movement Dan makes. Dan is within arms reach of the guy and sighs,“Look, I appreciate the excitement in my day, but I have a multi thousand dollar deal that’s going to go down the drain if I don’t make it to the meeting in ten minutes. Can I get back to you in 3-5 business days and skip this for now?” Cold blinked. He hasn’t had anyone respond so nonchalantly to him before but he respects the man’s cordial request to belay his robbery. “I expect a cut of that deal’s earnings.” Dan smiles, “Perfect,” He rifles through his pocket and pulls out a card, “Here’s my number. Call me when you’re available.” Captain Cold nods and slides the card into his pocket. The halfa walks past Captain Cold and through the Banks doors towards his car. He turns his ringer on. He’d rather not miss a call from a Flash Rogue.

[nonotnolan]

Jock Cock, Part 1

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Adam Johnson, next year's star quarterback and this year's bane of my existence, looked up at me with his baby blue eyes. If he was trying to look small and unintimidating, it would have worked better without carrying 200+ pounds of muscle on a six foot frame.

Well, if he wanted to be melodramatic, two could play that game. "You know full well why I called you here, Adam." I thumped the stack of papers on my desk for emphasis. "You've been failing ECON 105 all semester, but suddenly you can score an 83% on the final exam? It's enough to get you D- in this class. It's not a perfect score, but it's still enough for you to avoid academic probation."

His face flashed with a brief moment of irritation before setting back into his normal, casual stupor. "Well, I wasn't studying before, and now I did. It's not like I scored all that great... sir."

"We both know that you don't know what 'sustainability' means, Adam. You tried to fly under the radar, you didn't cheat your way into a 100%... but it's still cheating. We both know that academic misconduct is a serious crime." I tried my best to sound stern and disappointed, but it was hard to be angry at a face this sexy.

Adam just laughed at me. "And if you could prove it, you wouldn't be calling me into a private meeting, would you?" He leaned back into a shit-eating grin, displaying his dazzling white teeth. This asshole had the upper hand, and he knew it.

"I checked every single essay!" I said, pounding the stack of papers once again. "Every essay, in every single TA's session of this class. You didn't plagiarize... but we both know this isn't your style of writing. And we watched you like a hawk during the exam itself, so you didn't cheat that way, either."

Adam leaned close into my face. "Professor Michaels has no idea that you called me in here, does he? You're just a Teaching Assistant on a power trip, and it's all because you can't stand knowing how I did it." He was right, and I hated him for it. Worse, when he stood this close to me, I could smell the musk of his body.

"Tell you what," he added, pulling off his tank top to reveal a set of firm abs. "You let me get away with this... sign off on my scores, whatever you need to do... and I'll let you live out one of your deepest, darkest fantasies." He struck a pose, showing off both his rippling muscles and his hairy pits. "We both know that you'll never get jock cock any other way. Come on, Teach. You want this."

Was I really that easy to read? "I-- I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Look, if you're going to stick to your lie about studying, then you can just leave. I don't... there's no need to insult my moral character. You're a student, Adam."

He responded by leaning in close to me, and placing his hand on top of my bulge. "Your body betrays you," he whispered, letting his fingers massage my inner thigh. "If it makes you feel better, I'm not your student. Adam and I swapped bodies so that I could take all of his final exams."

"I... yes, well..." That was the last thing I expected him to say, but it would explain a lot if it were true, somehow. It seemed much more likely than a desirable athlete like Adam coming onto me, at the very least.

"Be that as it may," I said, grabbing his hand and moving it away before my cock started leaking though my slacks, "that body still belongs to one of my students. And I still have meetings to attend today, so if we're done here..."

Adam, or the stranger in Adam's body, just laughed at me. "You're the one who wanted to have this meeting, remember? But that's fine, I know when I'm not wanted. But here's the thing-- once you submit grades at end of day, Adam's not your student anymore." He started typing something on his phone. "And honestly, I expected this from you. You're so uptight. Good thing you gave everyone your cell phone number on the syllabus at the start of the year. So if you change your mind... now you can have Adam's number, and a bonus pic from me."

"I know you don't know the real me, but trust me Kevin-- I've wanted to plow that uptight hole of your for months. And in this body, I've actually got a shot at it." The stranger slapped my ass before I could react, and swaggered out of the room. Whoever was inside of Adam's body, they knew my first name.

I looked at the retreating wall of shoulder muscles, and down at the teasing bathroom selfie the stranger sent to me. God help me, I was only human. And he was right-- how else was I going to get jock cock? He wasn't a student, not really, and that's what mattered. "You win. Tonight at 8pm, my place. Bring lube."

Check out Part 2 here. Check out Part 3 here.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

BG3 Companions (& Halsin) Realizing That Their GN! Tav Might Have PMDD

Characters: GN! Reader! Tav; Astarion; Gale; Wyll; Shadowheart; Karlach; Lae’zel; Halsin

Pairing(s): None, but it’s written as All Companions x Tav so if you have a romanced companion you prefer, you can imagine they have most of Tav’s favor. 

A/N: This is a highly indulgent imagine that absolutely NO ONE asked for (besides me lol) but I felt compelled to write it because I’ve been really struggling lately with some extreme PMS symptoms for the last few months or so. I don’t have a PMDD diagnosis yet or anything, but in looking up my symptoms I read about it and wanted to write this comfort piece for it. I kept Tav as gender-neutral as possible in this, but they do have a very active and very angry uterus in this.

TW: Discussion of Menstruation (Bleeding, Cramps/ Abdominal Pain), PMS, and PMDD Symptoms (Including Depression & Thoughts of Suicide) [Note: No one actually says ‘PMDD’, or Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder but that is the syndrome implied]; Brief Mentions of Sex (also small text)

Word Count: 3.7k

“Have any of you seen Tav lately?” Astarion asked, coming to sit next to a handful of his fellow companions seated around their camp’s fire. 

“Why? Has something else gone wrong?” Shadowheart teased back from where she lay against a log, a goblet of half-drunk wine in her hand. “Or perhaps, you’re looking for a bite to eat?” 

“Ha-ha,” Astarion mock laughed. “‘Bite,’ because I’m a vampire, how hilarious Shadowheart.” 

“I don’t know Astarion,” Gale countered from where he was perched on the other side of the former Sharran devotee, “I’d wager you secretly found it rather punny.” 

“Ugh,” Astarion wrinkled his nose at Gale’s words, failing to hide the amused smile that graced his lips. “Honestly Gale, as if the orb isn’t enough.”

Astarion, having lost interest in sitting next to his companions, settled for standing, crossing his arms, and jutting out one hip in his signature semi-annoyed pose.

“Come now Astarion, you can’t say Gale’s love for language comes as a surprise,” Wyll joined the conversation, sheathing his blade after having used Lae’zel’s whetstone to sharpen it. “Why I’d wager even Lae’zel can attest that in the farthest reaches of the Githyanki galaxy, the repetition of a wizard’s sharpened tongue precedes them.” 

Lae’zel huffed affirmatively, taking the opportunity to sharpen her sword. “Tchk. The Blade is right. It is no secret that wizards cannot help but run their mouths.” 

Karlach, having been seated quite literally in the middle of the conversation, from where she lay next to the campfire flames, burst out laughing, sitting up with a start. 

Shadowheart and Astarion couldn’t help but chuckle as well. 

Lae’zel’s eyes glowered as she looked at her other companions. “I do not see the cause for such antics” 

“Yes! Thank you Lae’zel!” Gale spoke up, wagging a finger in protest at the display of his friends. “A wizard’s intellectual prowess is no laughing matter.” 

“That which you discuss has yet to be seen.” Lae’zel rebuffed Gale yet again. 

“Pfft!” Shadowheart nearly choked on her drink as Karlach resumed her boisterous laughter, Wyll joining in this time as well. 

“Enjoying a night of merriment, are we?” Halsin’s deep voice cut through the laughs, his large form coming into view as the Druid emerged from the tree line. Shirtless, and still dripping, his presence brought a warm air to the camp, despite the night’s chilled air. 

“We certainly are now,” Astarion purred, admiring the druid’s half-naked form. 

“Mhhm,” Shadowheart took another sip of her wine. “For once, Astarion,  I’d have to agree.” 

Completely comfortable in his nudity, and unintimidated by the other’s ogling, Halsin strutted confidently over to where his fellow companions had gathered around the fire. “I had just finished bathing when Tav came to the lakeside. Said they were going to take a bath to unwind before bed.” 

“I’m surprised they didn’t ask you to join them,” Astarion mused, eyes still raking up and down Halsin’s sculpted form. 

Halsin gave a half smirk at the compliment, but his mood remained subdued. “They seemed upset. I offered to stay with them, even just to chat, but they insisted they wished to be left alone.“ 

Frowning, Gale scanned the faces of his companions, looking for a negative reaction, finding a similar dower one had made its way across Wyll’s and Karlach’s features. 

Looking to Karlach for solidarity, Wyll spoke up first: “Has anyone noticed Tav to be much more despondent as of late?” 

Karlach nodded. “Yesterday as well. Hells, it’s so odd to see them so down in the dumps. They’re usually leading the charge in making sure the rest of us are happy.”

“Has something changed? Perhaps Raphael contacted them yet again?” Gale supposed. 

Shadowheart shook her head. “Not that I know of. Besides, even if he did, this feels too familiar to just be a coincidence.” 

Lae’zel resheathed her newly sharpened blade before stalking over to the Selunite priestess. “Tchk. If you have something to share ghustil, say it outright.” 

Shadowheart rolled her eyes at the quarrelsome nature of Lae’zel’s words but continued speaking nonetheless. “If I recall correctly, a similar thing happened a while back, a few weeks perhaps.” 

“Yes,” Wyll joined. “I remember Tav crying after one of our battles.” 

“Come now,” Gale countered. “That’s hardly a mystery. It’s completely understandable why they might break down every now and then. It’s been a hard few months, even for a leader as strong as Tav.” 

“Perhaps,” Wyll relented. “Although, I can’t recall Tav giving a specific reason for their meltdown.” 

“‘Reason’?” Asatrion scoffed. “How about the fact that we’re all infected with Mindflayer parasites which could hatch at any moment? On top of which we are expected to destroy this Absolute death cult, lest all of Baldur’s Gate be turned into a tentacle wasteland!” 

“It is enough to make one’s blood run cold.” Gale agreed. 

“I do think Shadowheart may have a point.” Halsin put his two cents in. “I do recall around two months ago, Tav coming to me for healing, relief for abdominal cramps.”

“Oh, well that settles it, doesn’t it? It’s merely that ‘time of the month’, rather unfortunate and annoying, but hardly devastating for our capable leader.” Astarion sounded unconvinced, as he looked down to admire his recently shaped fingernails. 

Halsin shook his head. “I sensed there was more they wished to request aid for. They were holding something back. What exactly and why, I am unsure.” 

“Maybe they’ve just got a tough go of it. I know my whole body was thrown entirely out of whack waking up in Avernus. It took years for me to feel like myself again.” Karlach gestured at her many scars as she did so. 

All the time, Lae’zel had been listening intensely, a curious look across her face. “What is this ‘time of the month’?” She repeated. “Is it another,” she paused, making sure to pronounce the following word right, “Tiefling trait?” 

Karlach shook her head. “We’re not exempt from it,” she replied honestly. “But no, it’s not just tieflings.” 

“You mean to tell me that female Githyanki don’t have periods?” Shadowheart asked, having thrown all her pretenses out along with the last of her wine. 

“As I have said before ghustil, we do not become parents through sex. When it is time, we are chosen by Vlaakith to lay the eggs of our young.” 

“And this, ‘egg-laying’, as you call it… it, isn’t um, gender specific?” Gale, ever the wizard, just had to know. 

“No. Sex is irrelevant. The only thing of importance is whether you are called by Vlaakith to bear that which houses her future children.” 

“... Right,” Gale answered, feeling rather queasy. “I think that’s all I’d like to know if you don’t mind.”  

“Can we please get back to the point?” Astarion interrupted, rather impatient. “Tav is spiraling or having a mental breakdown or something, and apparently, only the Cleric and Druid noticed, how cliche.” 

 “Alright, Astarion. What do you suggest?” Wyll asked. 

“Well, obviously we need to find out what’s wrong with them so we can fix it.” 

“If it is this ‘time-of-month’, then why not stop it before it comes? You know when it nears, why not strike it down before it starts?” Lae’zel suggested, still not fully understanding what a ‘period’ was for a human. 

“That may not solve all the difficulties Tav is experiencing.” Halsin finally pulled his shirt back over his head, much to the others' collective disappointment. “There is more, although I am uncertain if I should share it, as Tav shared it with me in confidence.” 

“If it could help us help Tav, perhaps it is best to share this once?” Gale suggested. “Normally, I’m not one for shifting loyalties, but I too, have some things I think it’s better I share with the group.” 

“Now that you mention it, I do recall Tav saying something off-color last night,” Astatrion added. 

“What did they say?” Karlach asked.

“They mentioned they had been feeling rather down. Really down. So down, that they, well…” Astarion gave an exasperated huff, clearly uneasy with the topic. “...Tav said that sometimes, they feel like giving up.” 

“What did you tell them?” Wyll asked, encouraging Astarion to go on. 

“I said of course they feel like that! I mean who wouldn't? Between the Mindflayer parasites, the constant goblin attacks, the thieves, and the looming threat of this Absolute Cult, who wouldn't want to lie down for a few hundred years or so?” 

“I must admit, Tav’s confession to me a few months back was similar in nature,” Gale attested. “They expressed how defeated they felt as if nothing they did mattered. All the battles, all the small victories, it didn’t change anything. The Absolute was still going strong, the threat of the world’s end still looming… They asked me if any of it was worth it.” 

Halsin nodded. “I fear I was told more of the same. Tav divulged that they sometimes wondered if I, if we, would fare better on our journey without them.”

A silence fell over the companions, a cerebral, unsettling kind of silence, the kind one could feel resonating, laden within one's bones. 

“Shit,” Karlch said, the first to speak. “I mean, I knew they were upset sometimes, but I just figured we all were.” 

“Halsin,” Shadowheart started, gently. “When Tav told you they thought we’d be better off without them, what did you say?” 

“I embraced them and told them that in no uncertain terms, we needed them to lead us. I reminded Tav how amazing they are, and how, even though they themselves cannot see it, they are truly a marvel to behold. I expressed gratitude for them saving The Grove, for making peace between the tieflings and the druids.”

Wyll nodded along to Halsin’s words, recalling all that he and Tav had managed to accomplish together in such a short time, despite all the odds stacked against them. 

Halsin cleared his throat, swallowing down an ardent wave of emotion that threatened to escalate before he continued: “Lastly, I told them how I felt about them, how we all felt about them, and that should they ever require reminding, they need only ask.” 

From where he stood, Astarion sulked, a guilty expression making its way across his face. “I, I didn’t know. Godsdammit! I should have seen…”

“You cannot blame yourself Astarion.” Halsin did his best to assure his pale elf friend. “Even with Tav’s confession, I fear I did not heed their words the way I should have. Perhaps if I connected the dots more quickly, if I recorded the dates of their depressive episodes, we could have come to this conclusion weeks ago.” 

“What conclusion is that exactly?” Lae’zel enquired. “You say it is not this ‘time-of-month’, and yet, you make no other claims. What cause do you reference?” 

“It’s rare, but sometimes it happens that a human’s reproductive organs seemingly conspire against them,” Gale answered. “Well, more than is to be expected, I should clarify.” 

“Ah. So it is inferior istik reproductive organs to blame for our dear leader’s shakiness. Then perhaps they need be cut out.” 

“Lae’zel!” Gale gasped. 

Lae’zel crossed her arms as if to say ‘what’? 

“It needn’t come to that,” Halsin cut in, diffusing the situation. “That is not to say it’s not a possibility, but only in the most dire and extreme cases.” 

“Yes,” Shadowheart agreed. “And despite my being a cleric and Halsin being a druid, neither one of us is qualified for such procedures.” 

Lae’zel took a moment to process their words. “Indeed, I see. In that case, it is wise that that scalpel-wielding bard is not currently accompanying us. Vlaakith knows his surgical skills are nothing more than mere talk, given his removal of Tav’s eye.” 

“... Is that a joke?” Astarion asked, dumbfounded at Lae’zel’s choice of deadpan delivery amid such a dire discussion.   

“Do not look so surprised shka'keth, I am considered most humorous amongst my people.” 

“You know what?” Wyll butt in, “That, I do believe.” 

 Astarion scoffed. “Well, perhaps, Lae’zel could use her humor to cheer Tav up. Unless any of you have any other ideas?” 

“I think perhaps it would be better for us to sit Tav down for a heart-to-heart. Remind them how much they mean to us.” The Blade of Frontiers did not beat around the bush. 

“I agree,” Halsin seconded. “Perhaps the message coming from us all would be better received than it was coming from me alone.” 

“It’s worth a try,” Karlach agreed. “Gods know we care about them. And there’s no way we would have gotten this far without them.” 

“The tiefling is right. Tav may be istik, but they are still our leader.” Lae’zel spoke up, roused by her companions' sudden ire. “We have a duty to them to finish this, to cleanse these parasites from our bodies and destroy The Absolute.”

Shadowheart sighed, before righting herself and walking over to Lae’zel’s side. “If Lae’zel’s in, then I might as well join. Wyll, what about you? Up for an intervention?” 

Wyll looked at Karlach, catching her eye. Following a triumphant smirk from Karlach, the duo nodded their respective affirmations before joining Halsin, Astarion, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart where they stood. 

And that just left…

“Gale? Care to join us? Or will you be too busy pinning over your ex-goddess girlfriend?” Astarion ribbed. 

Gale shook his head, Astarion’s antics not being a new experience for him at all. 

“I’m not pining, and, even if I were, Tav is much more important at the moment. Why, in fact,” Gale’s voice got quieter, more serious, “Some nights I fear I would give up The Weave, hells, even eternity if it meant Tav would be happy.” 

No one else said anything in response, they didn't need to. It was clear to all of them, that they all loved Tav deeply, even on the days, or weeks Tav couldn't find any love for themselves. 

“Do you think Tav would be done bathing by now? Not that I’d mind getting a little peak, though I’m not sure how they’d feel about that.” Astarion mused. 

“Astarion,” Wyll warned.

“I’m only kidding. Mostly.” 

“I’m sure they’ll be back shortly. Let us prepare what we wish to say so that when they do arrive-” Halsin started, but was cut off by a rustling coming from just beyond the treeline. 

“Wait,” Tav’s voice cut through the air, a welcome bit of color amidst an otherwise chilly night, “Who’s arriving?” 

“Tav!” The companions turned in shock, feeling sheepish, as if they had just been caught in the act. 

“We were hoping you’d return soon,” Shadowheart admitted. 

“There are some things we’d like to discuss,” Gale added. 

Tav pinched the bridge of their nose. “Dammit Astarion, did you go around trying to bite everyone again? We’ve talked about this.” They let out an exasperated sigh. 

“What? Why-?! How dare you accuse me of such a thing!” Astarion puffed his chest up, making himself appear larger. “I’ll have you know we were actually discussing-” 

“We’re worried about you soldier,” Karlach interrupted Astarion’s indignant outburst. “We see how hard this has been on you, on all of us.” 

“We want you to know,” Wyll continued the sentiment for her, “That we care about you. And whatever hardships you endure, we’ll endure them with you.” 

“Oh.” 

Their companion’s words stopped Tav dead in their tracks. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. And um, that’s really sweet of you. It’s just,” Tav frowned, “How do I put this? Um… As far as The Absolute and the Mindflayers are concerned, I’m grateful for your help, I am, really. But there are just some things that are-”

“Private,” Astarion finished for Tav. He walked over to Tav, before lowering his voice, speaking only to them. “I think you know,” he whispered, his expression suddenly melancholy, “Better than anyone, why each one of us knows how you feel.” 

And with that, the damn burst, Tav simply couldn't hold it in any longer. 

Their face contorted. They bit their lip before their mouth turned upside down, their nose wrinkled, and their eyes began to water. 

“It’s just been so hard!” Tav cried, their own voice barely more than a whisper. “And just when I think things are okay, that I’m finally better, it all just comes crashing down around me again!” Tav sobbed, their arms dropping to their sides in defeat. 

Moving to comfort them, Astarion placed a tentative hand on their shoulder, gently patting Tav with a ‘there-there’. His eyes darted back to his companions, a begging, uncomfortable look evident on his face. 

Karlach moved first, coming to Tav’s side opposite Astarion. Despite her engine being temporarily fixed, she knew her skin was still hot to the touch. Still, Karlach hoped her closeness would be its own comfort. 

“We’ve got you soldier.” Karlach wrapped the end of her tiefling tail around Tav’s calf. “Just let it all out, it’s okay.” 

Tav sobbed even harder at her words, pulling a rather flustered Astarion in for a tight embrace. 

“Ah. A little help over here!” Astarion whispered harshly past Tav’s ear, their face wedged between his arms and chest, and their tears and snot beginning to dampen his shoulder. 

Shadowheart chuckled, amused that despite him being such a flirt when he wanted, Astaron was still rather unfamiliar with the more platonic, or should she say, non-sexual forms of intimacy. “Step aside.”

Moving over to the huddle sandwich that was Astarion, Tav, and Karlach, Shadowheart wedged her way in between Astarion and Tav. “Just try not to drool too much on my top. It is leather after all.” 

“Tchck, Shadowheart.” Lae’zel chided. She walked over to the huddle, standing a safe six inches away, her arms crossed and brows furrowed. “Clothes are meaningless compared to a fellow soldier.” 

“I’m surprised I find myself agreeing, but Shadowheart, Lae’zel does have a point,” Gale concluded. “Tav’s emotional state is much more important than any item of clothing, or inanimate object.” 

“Says the wizard who eats shoes,” Astarion ribbed from under his breath. 

Gale clicked his tongue at the vampire spawn’s remark, but otherwise paid his pale companion no mind. 

“Besides,” Gale continued, undeterred. “I can always do another load of laundry. Should you ever need a shoulder to cry on, know that mine will always be available, tears or otherwise.” 

Tav nodded, enthusiastically grateful, switching from Shadowheart’s shoulder to Gale’s. 

Sighing, as the cool purple velvet rubbed against their cheek, Tav began to slow their breathing, gaining better control of the sobs that had previously uncontrollably wracked their body. 

“We may not know exactly what it is you’re going through, but that doesn’t make you any less of a leader worthy of our time and affection,” Wyll spoke up as he came to join the hug pile. “And sharing your fears and sadness does not make you a burden, it makes you strong.” 

Tav wailed once more, nodding emphatically as they did so. Deep down, they knew all that their friends had shared to be true, but they were not able to convince themselves of it on their own. 

“And if this sadness of yours comes at the same time every month, it may indicate a hormonal condition. Should that be the case, there are many treatments and spells we can cast to ease your pain.” 

“Really?” Tav asked through sniffles. 

“Indeed,” Halsin nodded, having walked over to also join his gathered companions. “Although there is something simpler, something I always have readily available.” 

“Don’t you dare—” Astarion started. 

At the same time Lae’zel spoke her own words of protest: “Do it druid, and you may very well live to regret it.” 

Tav ignored their outbursts and instead asked Halsin what he had in mind. 

“This,” he said, before outstretching his arms and encompassing everyone in a great big bear hug. 

Squished between their dear companions, their friends, their allies in this fight, and the next, Tav, for the first time in days, began to feel truly loved. 

The world may have looked bleak and hopeless, and with a raging uterus, it may have looked even more so, but as long as Tav had their friends, they would never know true defeat. 

…

Squashed between an equally irate Githyanki and a rather sentimental wizard, Astarion wriggled, trying to break free, but to no avail. Turning his head left to face his frog-esque friend, Astarion whispered threats under his breath.  

“I say the next time he wildshapes into a bear, we put a pretty pink collar around his neck and march him into town as punishment.”

“Chk. I find that offer rather agreeable.” 

“I dunno. I rather like this kind of medicinal approach.” Karlach said, feeling overjoyed to simply be touched. 

“You know he can hear you, right?” Wyll, ever the pragmatist, spoke from across the expanse of Halsin’s broad chest in order to address Astarion. 

Halsin nodded in the affirmative upon hearing Wyll’s words.

Astarion groaned. “Well, clearly he has now!” 

“And here I thought vampires were stealthy.” Shadowheart teased. 

“Oh, trust me, darling, all of your times shall come. Count on it!” 

“Astarion?” Tav‘s muffled voice asked from where their face was squished into Gale’s chest. 

Tav managed to pull their head away from Gale’s purple robe just long enough to give Astarion their best puppy-dog-eyed look. “Be nice? Pleaseeee?” They drew out the end of the ‘please,’ innocently batting their eyes as they did so. 

“... Fine. But don’t get used to it,” Astarion resigned before tossing his hair. “I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“Mhhm,” Tav agreed, putting their face back against Gale’s velvet-covered chest. 

They knew this moment couldn’t last forever, and it certainly wouldn’t solve all their problems— mind flayers, hormones, or otherwise. But they could at least stay put like that for just a minute longer. 

Or as a matter of fact? Make that two. 

A/N 2.0: So there it is! I hope you enjoyed. This is definitely something I needed to read like two weeks ago, and also a month ago, and then the month before that lol. 

After this, we are back to our regularly scheduled programming. I will make an upcoming ask list, just so everyone is clear as to what is up and coming.

As always Please Like, but most importantly, REBLOG!!!

(Reblogs mean more than Likes because they project my work to a larger audience.)

And If you like my work, Consider Buying Me A Coffee <3. 

[luvly-writer]

Crimes of a Mother

Ch. 1: She’s our shadow

Batfamily x Reader

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Author’s note: I did NOT think this story was gonna get amount of love it did because i’m so insecure about it but wow!!! Thank you so much!!! I truly am grateful for your love for this! Thank you Thank you!! I think it will become a short series so if you’d like to be added to the taglist, leave a message! Here’s chapter 1, Enjoy!!!

Warning: English is not my first language

Taglist: (i’m starting the taglist with the people who asked for a part two <3) @nxdxsworld @give-jack-a-lightsaber @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @can-i-feel @n4muar

Masterlist:

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Subject name: Yn Wayne Salazar

Age: 18

Mother: Valentina Salazar (alias, the Golden Serpent)

Father: Bruce Wayne (alias, Batman)

Skills: High level of expertise on criminal investigation, Bilingual, Photographic memory...

Weaknesses: [empty folder]

Education: [CURRENTLY UNDERGOING] Bachelor in Criminal Journalism

Motive for investigating: ???

———

-“Nghhhh”

Bruce mutters as he leans back and rubs his eyes. The Batcomputer displayed a series of pictures and the beginning of a subject report on Yn. The last few weeks have been interesting to say the least. After her visit to the manor, everyone aside from Bruce and Alfred had been curious on who this unknown girl and had been trying to get either of them to spill on who she was. Normally, they would have let it go by now, they reason (lies) ; but after seeing Bruce and Alfred pale as a sheet of paper, they knew this wasn’t just another of Bruces small secrets

After much perstering, Bruce finally caved in. (Barbara found Vals note as she was managing the commns. He left it there after having to rush out and stop Tim from strangling Jason and Damian for lacing his coffee with a laxative. In their defense, they are trying different ways to help Tim get more sleep and lay off coffee. In Tim’s defense, he had to miss two days of patrol because his stomach wouldn’t hold anything...alas, the life of a single father)

To say that it caused a raucus withing the family is an understatement. Jason, Stephanie, and Tim couldn’t stop laughing about Bruce having another kid. Barbara and Cass were just glad they had another girl in the family. Dick was contemplating whether he wanted to leave or stay for the drama and risk meeting another version of Damian. Duke was trying to console Damian who stayed in catatonic shock for a few moments seeing as he had an actual blood sibling. Bruce had figured that if he had all of them on the lookout for her, she would be safer plus, they would be able to get the largest amount of information about her together. This had proven to be somewhat difficult seeing as Valentina had made sure to leave no trace of her their daughter’s existence in Gotham.

The following weeks after the debrief were anything but boring. They had been made aware that they had a shadow during patrol. Tim, familiar with the situation, had taken note of it first. Yn was good. She kept hidden, had the stamina to keep up, and most of the time could almost accurately predict their next move. One time, Tim, Dick, and Jason had decided to go on a coffee run in the middle of a stakeout. They hadn’t seen her all night and decided to leave Steph, Damian, and Duke in charge while they went and ordered. Lo and behold, there she was in a booth in the back sipping some coffee and typing on her laptop. They hadn’t thought anything of it seeing as this coffee shop normaly stayed open till late hours of the night due to its proximity to Gotham University and students constantly went to study there as classes had started. It wasn’t until Dick made eye contact with her that he felt chills down his spine. Her eyes were trained on them like a predator to its prey, still, unmoving, and absorving everything. He had called out to Jason and Tim; and once they turned to look ate her, she was unintimidated by the three figures, with her head leaning on one hand and her other holding her cup. She raised a delicate eyebrow at them and just stared. They figured the girl had her mothers looks but good grace, she was Bruce Wayne’s Daughter. To be more specific, she was the Dark Knight’s daughter and her eyes were a key give away of that. Not even Damian, with all his devil spawness, could recreate that piercing gaze.

It wasn’t only as vigilantes. She would be seen with a notebook in the back of Bruce’s conferences and interviews, eyes cold, calculating and focused as she observed and wrote down. It was known she was targeting Bruce and he didn’t know whether to feel some sort of twisted pride or to be concerned.

Back in the present, Bruce had never felt so frustrated. Why was this kid here? Was this a cruel trick of fate where she was destined to cross his path? Was he finally believing in something as simplish as fate and destiny? What was her investigation? What did she wanna know? How much did she know? Was she sleeping and eating? Were her grades slipping? In a moment of fatherly worry he hacked into Gotham's system and found her students bio. Classes had started two months ago...it really had been two months since he had met her? Her grades were perfect. Exams aced, projects and homework all As, she had taken a few college credits in high school so she had advanced in some of her classes and skipped the basics. She truly was brilliant.

-“I finally get a Wayne in university who has the intention of finishing it.”

Exclaimed Alfred as he walked closer and interrupted his thought process. (He would forever be salty that neither his “son” nor his “grandkids´” had gone or finished college.)

-“She's a brilliant kid.”

-“Well she ought to be. If I remember anything about her mother, I'd be worried if she wasn’t”

He corrects and Bruce scoffs a laugh.

-“She’s been tailing us for weeks, yet not a single bad score.”

-“It almost sounds as if you’re proud, master Bruce”

-“I....I barely know her”

-“Let’s fix that then, shall we? Invite her over for dinner with the family. It is a possibility that all the questions that have you perplexed may find their answer if you get to know her and she begins to trust you”

-"Couldn’t this just be an ordinary investigation without any attachment?"

-“That is your daughter, master Wayne. Better her to be here and protected than out there for her other family to find her and make a move first.”

-“Nghh”

-“Such a cooperative answer, I shall notify the rest.”

----

For all of her bravado, Yn was nervous. It had been two months and a half since she had stepped into the manor. Charlie and Taylor had told her encouraging words as she dropped them off at their respective practices and headed for the Wayne house. She had tried to dress nicely and make a better impression that last time. Had Mr. Wayne seen her at the conferences? Did he know of her nightly investigations? Was he gonna tell her mom?

She parked her car and stepped out. Would dressing up and acting nicer make her look guiltier? She walked up the stairs and pressed the doorbell. She was working so hard on understanding her family and it wouldnt go to waste because of some pissy billionare. She heard some footsteps walking towards the door. She was not going to give up today.

-“Hello, miss Salazar, it is great to see you again.”

---

Dinner had been going great so far. You had been introduced to all of them at once and began small chatter. Everyone had been somewhat pleasant with her, trying to make her feel at ease. She had chalked it up to Mr. Wayne fulfilling some sort of favor her mother had asked of him to protect her and this actittud had passed on to his kids.

-“So, Yn, why Gotham?”

Asked Dick, which made everyone turn to her

-“Yeah, why this dumpster fire of a city?”

Laughed Jason

-“Well -she laughed- I have always felt a connection to Gotham. Like as if something was missing and I knew I would find it here. Ever since I was a child, it had always been my mom and I only, no other immediate nor distant family members. Mom would never talk about the city even though she’s from here and it made me wonder why. I mean, feels like there's a huge part of me that I dont know about and I would like to, even if my mom advices against it constantly. What if I find family here, you know? There's something out there for me and I know it is here. Not only that, Gotham U has the best Criminal Forensics and Journalism departments ever. Of course..that can be because of the high profile of criminality and the amount of rougues running around. My mom tried to advise that Star City and even Metropolis would work but they aren’t Gotham, you know. They don’t have the history, the profile, the exentric rougues, the vigilantes. I mean, who is the Dark Knight? Why does he inspire so much fear? Is he a friend or someone who could potentially face a dark turn? What is his history with his sidekicks? Why so many? Are they human? A failed experiment? Cryptics? It is all fascinating, wouldn't you agree?

They all digested her answer. They all understood and and could relate to a certain level. Her determination was admirable.

-“That's actually...not a bad reason to move to Gotham”

Damian spoke up, surprising everyone. Yn smiled in approval and thanked him shyly.

-“When did you begin to have a passion for investigating?”

He asked again

-“Well, I guess I was too into crime shows? Plus being good at it certainly helps”

She laughs making the rest chuckle

Dinner finished shortly after. Everyone had decided to exchange social media handles and say their goodbyes. Bruce walks her to the door and speaks up,

-“Listen Yn, I am sorry about the thing about your father. I really ca-“

-“I know. You are a good man, Mr. Wayne. I am sorry for being too upfront that day, I tend to be too pushy sometimes during an investigation. I appretiate your respect and care for my mother a lot but...that still won’t stop me. I will find out who is my family.”

-“Well...seeing as nothing can hold you back, I just wanted to let you that our doors are always open for you. You are always welcomed into our family.”

She smiled at the sentiment and he could feel it pulling his heart strings. This is his kid, literally his. She is his daughter.

-“Thank you, Mr. Wayne”

She said as she started to walk to her car

-“One last thing...about your father”

Yn had never turned around so fast in her life

-“Yes?”

The hopeful look in her eyes made him take a step back and consider his words lightly

-“I think...I think he'd be very proud of you. You really are an extraordinary kid”

Seeing the hope fade a little killed him but it was better this way

-“You think so?”

-“I know so”

Her eyes watered a little but she held back. She gave him a nod and a tight smile

-“Goodnight, Mr. Wayne”

-“Goodnight, kid”

———•———•———

I am always open to feedback so remember to leave a comment or a reblogs if you have any suggestions, comments or just want to be added to the taglist!

[tinydefector]

Rescued

Ratchet x human reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: pitfighting, injuries and swearing.

Ratchet masterlist

Start of the Ratchet fic series piece from my poll. I've got some more request I'll have. Look thought but enjoy the first part of Rescued.

________________

Ratchet was no stranger to the black market, it had been where he had gotten a lot of his medical supplies before the war, and even now he still had dealers he went to for better prices, the Dead End had been in desperate need back then. Now it was the fact he was hunting for very specific equipment he was hoping that one of the dealers had. One of his patients had gotten a backstreet modification done and now he was dealing with trying to undo it. 

He entered the seedy marketplace with cautious optics. Black markets were rarely safe, even for one as grizzled as himself, but sometimes they provided resources not found through official medcentres. Swindle was impossible to miss. The shifty salesbot sidled up with a grin. "Well well, if it isn't the good doctor. Haven't seen you in a while. What can I do for you today?" 

Ratchet cut right to the chase. "I need a class V field nanoscope, with magnetic containment and full genomic sequencing interface. Also a case of tri-hexal coolant and 50 units of med-grade energon. Shipped to my clinic" he states while processing his payment to the bot. 

Swindle's visor glinted as he perused inventory.  "I've also got some...shall we say, off-protocol hardware. Stuff no self-respecting medic would keep on their official ledger." 

The Chief Medical Officer's optics narrowed. What exactly was Swindle suggesting? While he wouldn't put anything past the seedy dealer, Ratchet had no interest in anything illegal or unethical. Still, sometimes one had to play the game to get what they needed. "Show me what you've got."

Their transaction goes as normal, his stockpile set and ready for transport. But the sound of small cries in the market. It has Ratchet  turning to try and locate the sound. More cries echo as shouting of bids echo out from a corner. Ratchet's audio receptors zeroed in on the distressed cries, and what he heard made his fuel run cold. Pushing past other mechs, he hurried toward the commotion and spotted the disturbing scene unfolding - a small human had been tossed from the fight ring like so much garbage, directly into harm's way. 

“useless little frag, I spent good shanix on you and your worthless” the bot growls out. 

Without hesitation, Ratchet leapt forward and caught the bot before he could stomp the  limp form of the small organic. He whirled on the perpetrator with a snarl. "What in the Pits do you think you're doing?!" 

Shoving the mech back, Ratchet knelt and gently scooped the injured human into his servos cradling them to his chest, his optics flared with barely contained rage. The other bot vents out but ignores Ratchet. “Keep the little scraplet it's worthless.” He huffs as he downs another cube of engex. “Swindle I'd get out of here for a while” Ratchet warns, it doesn't take much for the con to get the hint. “Pleasure doing business As always Ratchet” he states. 

Ratchet strode from the Alley, carefully shielding the human as he contacted an Enforcer unit. The human curls in on themself more making themself as small as possible in Ratchet's servos. They don't move much while Ratchet makes his way back to his clinic. “Shhh it's Alright, settle down ill get you taken care of” he tries to settle them as he begins unlocking the door to the clinic. His optics trace over them.  

Heavy sobs leave their small frame. Ratchet watched helplessly as the terrified human struggled in vain to escape his servos, Their fear and anguish tore at his spark. All he wanted was to help, He placed them gently on the medberth and remained crouched down, making himself as unintimidating as possible. On his shoulder, Ratchet pointed to the bright Cross emblazoned across his plating - the symbol of medical care and protection. But the human showed no sign of understanding.

“Please settle, I am a doctor, I'm going to check your injuries” he tries to explain while using his servos. But with the language barrier he had no way to convey that. 

Realising his words most likely sounded like static crackles, Ratchet instead used his Em field pulses to try to calm them but it just made them shrink away in fear.  Ratchet muttered and grumbled to himself as he dug through crates of old data chips and software modules. "Fragging Primus, where did I leave that translation suite?" he growled. "Probably tossed it with the last lot of broken junk I cleared out of here."

He upended another crate, sending chips scattering across the floor. His field pulsed with irritation. "Should have all the common dialects downloaded - but does anyone think to update them? Of course not!"

Sifting through the pile, Ratchet let loose a string of curses. "Pit-spawned, rust-eating, glitch-headed pile of... aha!" He held up an ancient-looking chip in triumph. "About fragging time, you piece of scrap." 

Popping it into his chip port, Ratchet ran initialization and compatibility protocols. After a minute, a handful of human languages lit up in his HUD along with helpful translation matrices. He vented in relief. 

"Alright little one, let me try this…”

“ Can you understand me now? I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." His voice was gentle once more. They continue staring at him half scared. Ratchet slowly filtered through the different Earth languages via his new translation software, trying each one to see if any would trigger recognition in the fearful human. 

//Can you understand me now?// Ratchet repeated gently. //I found an old program that allows me to talk to humans. I mean you no harm. I only wish to help treat your injuries.//

He kept his motions slow and unthreatening, hands open and palms up. //This place is a clinic. I am a doctor - my designation is Ratchet. Please, let me scan you and apply medical dressings. You are safe here, I promise. I will not let any harm come to you while under my care.//

Optics dimmed with compassion, Ratchet waited patiently for a response. He hoped reassuring words and this breakthrough in communication would help begin to win the traumatised human's tentative trust.

They move forward slightly, eyes trained on Ratchet. "How...?" They choke out almost shocked, they begin shaking lightly as they sit there panicking. Ratchet responded with patience and care to the little human's distress. "It's alright, try to relax. I know this must be frightening, but you're safe now." 

"I have translation software that allows me to understand many Earth languages. It took some digging, but I finally found an old data chip with yours among its databases. I'm Chief Medical Officer - communicating with patients is essential to my function, no matter their origin."

Keeping his voice low and modulated, Ratchet continued, "I need to assess your injuries, little one. May I scan you? It will not hurt, I promise. The scans will let me see if anything is damaged internally so I can treat you properly." 

They give a small nod not trusting their voice. Stasis cuffs, bandages, and other medical tools were scattered throughout the clinic. It doesn't settle the human but they sit There twitching as Ratchet slowly works on checking them. 

 Sitting there as tears slowly leak down their face. "Are you going to make me fight again?" They trumble under his touch, his cold digits against their skin have them almost running but they stick to their spot as Ratchet slowly cleans wounds on their back.   Ratchet's optics softened at the fresh tears. "Primus, no," he said gently. "Fighting is the last thing I want you to do." 

They continue sitting there half naked as Ratchet stitches their injuries, flinching each time his cold digits touch them and each time the needle threads thought their skin, the numbing agent helped prevent the pain but not the frightful reaction.

"I apologise for any discomfort," he states as he begins cleaning off the blood that had dried to their skin. "My hands were not made for such delicate work. But I will be as quick and careful as possible."

True to his word, Ratchet efficiently assessed and wrapped each injury with utmost precision. Cleaning up as he goes, the cold air of the clinic eventually gets the best of the nervous human as they shiver and shake. "There, all finished. You did very well,." His tone was soothing as velvet. 

He grabs a heavy thermal rag,tucking it gently around the human's shivering form. "Stay warm now. Rest, you are safe." 

Their eyes continue to watch him as Ratchet goes about checking other clients as they slowly begin filtering in and out of the clinic, even in their tired state they don't dare sleep, constantly watching the medic. It's only when the medications slowly take effect that they slump back against the table. 

______________

Taglist: @angelxcvxc

Please ask if you would like to be added to the tag list.

[jobean12-blog]

Mr. Right Next Door

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Pre-outbreak!Joel and neighbor!Joel)

Word Count: 2,284

Summary: You’ve recently moved into the neighborhood and thankfully your neighbor across the street happens to be quite handy...and hot so you have him over as much as possible to fix things and the tension builds until finally a night out at the bar he works weekends at pushes him over the edge. 

Author’s Note: This is what happens when friends share their thots and I have thots...I’m ready for Joel to fix everything in my house...😁 and I love the jealousy/possessive trope- and the poor new cute guy- I didn’t even bother giving him a name because he never stood a chance haha! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: lots of fluffy fun and flirting and jealous/possessive Joel :) 

Joel Miller Masterlist

“Do you know the bartender?”

You almost choke on your drink but manage to swallow down the rest of the liquid instead of spitting it all over the cute guy you’ve been flirting with for the past hour.

“Why?” you ask without turning around.

“He keeps staring at you and then giving me dirty looks.”

“I’ve never seen him before in my life,” you lie with a shrug.

Your new cute guy friend smiles and continues chatting with you until you’ve finished your drink.

“It’s beautiful out, do you want to go for a walk?” the cute guy asks.

“Sure,” you tell him and slide off the stool.

You go to open your bag and pay but he stops you with a soft touch and drops some cash onto the bar.

“Thanks,” you tell him as he gestures for you to walk ahead of him.

He places a hand at the small of your back and leads you toward the door. You glance behind you, looking over his shoulder and catching Joel’s eye.

He’s staring at you, his expression unreadable but you can tell his jaw is firmly set with the clench of his teeth. His eyes follow you until you disappear out the door.

The night is warm but breezy and as you walk away from the bar you relax into the ease of the conversation.

The sound of approaching footsteps doesn’t register and when Joel slides up beside you and gently grabs your arm you jerk back in surprise.

“Sorry darlin’,” he says, with a hint of sheepishness. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Your eyes widen but you don’t pull away.

“I thought you said you didn’t know him?” the cute guy asks.

You almost forgot he was there.

“She told you she didn’t know me?” Joel asks with a haughty smirk. “Oh we know each other all right. We’re neighbors in fact.”

You keep your eyes on Joel.

“What do you want?” you ask Joel, finally pulling out of his grasp.

“You okay?” he demands, cutting the other guy a sharp look.

The new guy shoves his hands in his pockets and holds Joel’s stare, unintimidated.

“This guy bothering you?” Joel asks, his arms now folded over his chest.

You open your mouth to answer but the new guy beats you to it.

“I wasn’t bothering her. We were just enjoying a walk.”

The new guy swings his eyes in your direction with a smile. “And besides, I’m pretty sure she wants to be here as much as I do.”

“Well ain’t that just the sweetest,” Joel says, sarcasm dripping from every word. “But I’m gonna need her to come back to the bar with me.”

The new guy keeps his eyes on you and waits.

You glower at Joel and grumble under your breath, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Just come back to the bar darlin’,” he answers.

“Joel.”

“Come on sweetheart,” he murmurs, taking your hand.

You can’t bring yourself to pull away and at the mere feel of his skin against yours your whole body reacts with a shiver.

Joel grins.

“If you don’t come with me I’m just gonna make a scene.”

You sigh and turn to the poor new guy, smiling apologetically before telling him, “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

The new guy looks taken aback and you frown, opening your mouth to placate him further when Joel cuts in and says, “move along,” and tugs you away from him.

You let Joel pull you all the way back to the bar before your anger catches up with you and you yank your hand from his, turning on your heel and striding toward the parking lot and your car.

Joel jogs after you.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” he asks.

“What do you think you’re doing Joel?” you fire back.

“Aw come on darlin’. You weren’t really gonna spend the night with that guy…”

“And why not?” you ask, your tone incredulous.

Something flickers across his features but he steels himself before you have time to discern it’s meaning. He doesn’t answer your question, his hands landing on his hips as he takes a step closer to you, leaving very little space between your bodies.

It looks like he wants to say something but instead he grabs your arm and pulls you down the lane between the bar and the next building.

You protest but he doesn’t stop until darkness almost completely hides you both.  He maneuvers you against the brick wall of the bar.

“What are you doing?” you gape.

“You have an awful lot of questions tonight darlin’,” he simpers as he leans his hands on the wall on either side of your head, blocking any escape.

You swallow hard, the sound audible over the loud thumping of your heart. He studies your face, his gaze intense as it slowly wanders over your features.

“Don’t be mad at me,” he says gruffly. “I just…,” he continues and sighs.

“Were you jealous?” you blurt out, your eyes getting round with the realization.

He huffs out an aggravated burst of laughter.

“Joel?” you push, folding your arms over your chest and lifting your chin. “Answer my question.”

He dips his head, pressing his nose to your throat and he groans, feeling your pulse flutter wildly against his lips.

His mouth moves over your skin, soft and warm, and your whimper of need is like a zip of electricity between you.

“Joel,” you breathe his name. A plea.

He nearly loses his mind as he lifts his head and looks into your eyes, filled with want.

His arms drop from the wall and wrap around you, drawing you against his body before his lips crash to yours.

You kiss him back. Hungry and deep, your hands the same as they caress his broad shoulders and slide along the nape of his neck and into his hair.

With a stumble you hit the wall, his hardness pressing against your stomach as he swallows your breathy moans. The lights above the back door of the bar go on, flashing brightly and lighting up your tangled bodies.

“Joel!” you gasp, breaking the kiss and pressing your hands to his hard chest.

For a moment he looks confused, his hair mussed and his lips parted with his heavy breathing. Then he turns his head to the door and sees the bar keep staring at you both.

You straighten your clothes and clear your throat, dropping your head as you start to walk back toward the parking lot. Joel follows you, stopping at your car and pressing his hand to the door so you can’t open it.

“Don’t go,” he says, his tone pleading.  

“It’s late and you have to finish your shift,” you answer.

You stare at each other for a few tense moments before he pushes you against the car and kisses you again. Your keys fall to the ground and your fingernails scrape down the soft material of his shirt.

He growls low and deep, pressing his knee between your legs and nipping at your bottom lip.

The sound of crunching gravel makes you pull your lips away and you bury your face in his neck, clinging to him to steady yourself as a group of drunken people walk by.

“Are you still coming to fix my leaky faucet tomorrow?” you ask him, still hiding.

You can feel his smile against your skin and he moves back just enough to look you in the eyes.

“Of course darlin’,” he hums. “First thing.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whisper.

He brushes his nose to yours, his lips a whispered tease before he kisses the corner of your mouth and reluctantly backs away so you can open the car door.

You don’t even realize your keys are still on the ground and when he bends down to get them and holds them out you shake your head with a guilty grin. “Thanks.”

He nods, his expression soft but his eyes still filled with longing as he waits for you to get in the car and pull away.

“Shit,” he mutters before running his hands over his face and trudging back to the bar.

The next morning you take your fresh cup of coffee and walk to the large front window of your house, your head still filled with thoughts of last night and your body still alive with the lingering feeling of Joel’s hands and lips.

As if summoning him, the front door of his house opens and he walks out in tight dark jeans and a soft tee shirt that fits snugly in all the right places. You quickly step behind the curtain but continue to peek through, watching as he gathers tools from his pickup truck.

With every motion you can see the muscles in his back flex, the material of his shirt pulling tightly across the taut skin.

It’s too early to be feeling like this.

You know he’ll be showing up at your door soon so you grudgingly leave the delicious view and get yourself dressed and ready.

The doorbell rings and you rush down the steps, opening it with far too much force.

“Hey there,” he greets, letting his eyes sweep down your body.

“Hi Joel.”

Your reply is breathless and you turn away and walk toward the kitchen.

“I hope I’m not cutting into your day too much,” you say as he sets down his tools.

“Nah darlin’. Happy to help. Now let’s take a look.”

He drops to his knees and turns on his back, opening the cabinet under your sink and sliding into it as much as his shoulders will allow. His flashlight clicks on and you stare down at him, his thick thighs spread wide on the floor and his shirt riding up over his belt.

“Pass me the wrench, will ya darlin’?”

“Wrench,” you repeat quietly before tearing your eyes away and stepping over him to search the toolbox.

You move things around and try to remember what a wrench looks like. When you think you have it you grab the tool but when you turn around Joel is now standing in your space.

“Did you find it?” he asks, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“I think so,” you tell him, holding up the possible wrench.

He steps closer to you, crowding you against the counter with his body.

You feel the heat of his touch everywhere.

“That’s it,” he smiles, taking it from your hand and sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Look at you. You could probably fix the sink yourself.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” you admit. “It was a lucky guess.”

He winks at you. “Good thing I know exactly what I’m doin’ then.”

“Right,” you agree, licking your lips. “What’s the next step.”

“I want to kiss you again,” he croons, his eyes falling to your lips. “In fact…” he whispers, dipping his head, “I’ve wanted to since the moment I saw you and after last night…” he continues, his breath warm as it fans your cheek, “I never want to stop.”

Your eyelashes flutter closed and you place your hands flat against his chest, his heartbeat fast under your palm.

“Jealously finally got you to make your move,” you tease, trying to feign some semblance of control.

He bends his head to yours, his lips brushing your ear and setting off a cascade of shivers down your spine.

“I don’t like it when someone else tries to take what’s mine…”

“Yours?” you gasp, your fingers fisting into his shirt as his lips trail down your throat.

“Mm hm,” he hums. “Mine.”

“What about my sink?” you ask, still trying to keep your voice steady and trying to ignore the fact that the very idea of being his makes you melt.

“What the hell do you to do me darlin’?” he murmurs, his beard brushing across your skin when his lips skim along your jaw.

He rests both his hands on the edge of the countertop, caging you in and keeping your body lined up with his.

“I didn’t do anything,” you answer as your hands slide down his chest and your fingers slip under the hem of his shirt.

“Jesus sweetheart,” he hisses, burying his face in the crook of your neck to breathe you in.

Your turn your head and you can feel his breath hitch when you press your lips to his throat. His hands drop from the counter and settle on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin before he slides them under your shirt and draws small circles with his calloused fingertips.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he hums, inhaling once more before he drags his face from your neck, his fingers moving higher. “Feel so fuckin’ good too.”

You hook your fingers into his belt and give him a little tug, bringing his lips down to yours. He groans and sinks into the kiss, his hands on every inch of skin he can find.

With one swift motion he has you up and onto the counter, his large body settled between your spread legs as he kisses you until you can’t breathe.

When you part to get some air, he slides one hand along your curves, his touch reverent as he moves higher and reaches your face to trace your jaw, brushing his thumb across your swollen lips.  

“I promise I’m gonna fix the sink,” he murmurs as he takes your chin between his fingers and pulls you close.

“Later,” you whisper. “Kiss me again. I need more.”

“I’ll do whatever you want darlin’. I’m all yours.”  

 @justkinsey @sstan-hoe​ @blackwidownat2814​

[solarisfortuneia]

✦ info: moments where they come to your rescue. kinda.

✦ featuring: kaeya, wanderer.

✦ warnings: spiders, injuries.

✦ notes: posting (or reposting, in this case) all the works i can with kaeya in them before the ebg <3

kaeya.

a loud scream pierces through the quiet air, and he startles, knocking over a bottle of ink with his elbow. dark liquid slowly spreads over oak and fortunately blank paper; but he pays it no mind; all he can feel is familiar anxiety wrapping ugly tendrils around his lungs.

his feet almost fly across the floor in his effort to find you as quickly as he can. he flings open the kitchen door with a bang, out of breath from worry, not exertion, calling your name.

“what happened?” he takes long strides towards you, finding you huddled up in a corner. his hands gently grip your face and he searches your panicked eyes for hints of what may have scared you.

you point to the far side of the room, eyes wide. “there’s a spider!”

“what?” he asks, unsure of what he just heard from your lips.

“spider! over there!” you frantically wave your arms in that direction. he follows your movement, and sees a tiny house spider on the wall, unassuming and unintimidating.

the tendrils vanish, and kaeya throws his head back in laughter. “you yelled that loudly over a tiny, tiny spider?”

you make a face at him, offended by him laughing. "i don't like them, okay?"

"i don't like grape juice, but you don't see me screaming about it, my love." he coos at your expression, pinching your cheeks and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"you rant enough about it, though." you swat at his hands. "just get rid of it without killing it, please?"

"oh? but i think we should let our little friend stay a while. perhaps we could give them a name?" an eye of moonshine sparkles with mirth. "i wonder what would fit this itsy-bitsy spider?"

"kaeya alberich, i swear to archons above—"

he holds his hands up in surrender. "alright, alright. can't have my sweetheart be mad at me, now, can i?"

he swiftly entraps it in a glass and slowly shoos it outside. "there. it's gone now." he turns to you with a mischievous grin.

(good luck, you're never living this down.)

wanderer.

"tch," he grumbles. "when will you stop being so clumsy?"

"i'm not clumsy, the ground was just uneven," you say, sitting down on a nearby rock. "besides, scrapes and bruises are a standard part of commissions." you rummage through your bag for antiseptic solution and some bandages.

"you can't even do a simple commission without getting hurt; at this rate i'll have to accompany you on all of them." he shoves your hands away gently, a contrast to his tone. "i'll do it," his hands make quick work of bandaging your wound, ever-so-carefully.

and after he's done, he softly pats your bandaged knee as if to soothe it. and as you stand up, his gaze never leaves your form, as if to make sure you'd be okay with walking on your own.

you bend down to retrieve your items, but he beats you to it.

you call his name. "hey, i can hold my own bag." you reach for it, trying to pull it out of his hands. "it's not fair if you hold everything, let me carry something too."

"you want to hold something?" he looks in your direction. "fine, hold this." he slips his hand into yours, hoisting your bag on the other. almost as if it was an afterthought, he adds, "so you don't fall again."

"sure," you agree. "so i don't fall again. but i still feel bad about you carrying every—" you're cut off by him plopping his hat on your head.

"there, you have something else. don't complain." a slight red dusts his cheeks, and he looks ahead, resuming your journey back home.

"okay," you say, acquiescing.

he's so cute.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

continuing with my mindless input on cowboy reader.

I picture him being pretty tall, and obviously people can think he's a scary guy at first glance, so i think he tries to dress unintimidating or even cuddly so that people always think he's 'huggable' - that's his goal at least. particularly the team, i think he so badly wants to be somebody they can lean on or ask for help.

-🦕 anon

Sooo most of this was already written (very sorry its quite short), but I've not written in a few months but hopefully its still okay. Hope you like it!

Description: JJ thinks cowboy looks huggable.

Tags: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84 @goth-boi-atlas @iliketozoneout @chaosofmanyfandoms @logicalhorror @luvfornick @prmsn-17

The first time they had seen you out of your work attire, they were shocked. You stood dressed in an oversized t-shirt with a picture of you and Buddy cuddling and a pair of shorts. You had your usual cowboy hat on, but with running shoes. You didn't usually dress like this outside of work, but Ava had begged you to sleep over at the shelter, saying how badly she wanted a slumber party and you couldn't exactly say no - especially when she told you she had never had one before.

So you had agreed, dressed in your usual work attire after work - joggers, t-shirt, running shoes, and a cowboy hat. You made sure you brought your pajamas with you (the shorts and t-shirt with you and Buddy on). When it was about an hour after Ava's bedtime, you all went to bed, you sleeping on a sleeping bag you had brought with you.

When you woke up, however, your clothes were missing. Some of the kids had decided to wake up early and hide your clothes with smiles and hushed giggles.

You didn't mind, of course, they had never had a sleepover, so they were all excited. However, you got a call from Hotch saying you had a case - a child abduction, and you had to get there within the hour. You explained the situation to the kids, trying to reassure them when you saw the panic on their faces.

"T's okay, kiddos, where are my clothes?"

"We can't find them," Ava said, eyes widening.

"That's okay, where was the last place you saw them?"

You watch as the kids all share confused looks, Ava's eyes starting to water, "W-we checked everywhere already!" Ava sniffed, "We looked everywhere! We put them under a cushion but they're not there!"

You give a small smile, trying to calm her down, "T's okay, kiddo, I don't mind goin' ta work like this," You grin slightly and Ava sniffs again, wiping her eyes.

"M sorry,"

You give a gentle sigh, more worried about the state she's gotten herself into as you pull her into a soft embrace. "Nah, don't worry about it,"

Half an hour later, you rocked up to the bullpen, still (technically) in your pajamas. You hadn't had time to go home to grab some new clothes, especially with the deadline Hotch had given you. So you'd just have to change into an outfit from your duffel bag.

"What on Earth..." Morgan grinned, seeing you walk in wearing a pair on shorts and a t-shirt with you and Buddy - what with the boots and the cowboy hat, it was quite a sight.

"Don't even ask," You huffed a small laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. Making your way over to your desk, you grab your duffle bag.

"Oh, no, we have to ask," Penelope grins, "We can't not ask,"

You place the hat on your desk as you grab your duffel bag. "I went for a sleepover at the shelter I volunteer at. The kids thought it would be funny to hide my clothes," You grin slightly, "Then the rascals forgot where they hid 'em,"

Morgan gives a small chuckle as Emily gives you a smirk.

"It's a good look for you, Cowboy," JJ gave you a smile, looking you up and down. "You look huggable,"

You felt your cheeks tint a light pink and you turn to her, rolling your eyes gently. "Yeah, yeah,"

"I'm just saying," She let her eyes flick up and down once more. "It suits you." She raised her cup of coffee (to hide her own blush) before taking a sip. Your jaw dropped slightly as JJ walked off. Morgan clapped a hand on your shoulder.

"Even in your pj's you've still got game."