#he’s very nice and he gives us a kids money sometimes

[kavehater]

Although my parents are certified loners (no shame) we have one family friend that’s super close and last year approx June fifth I had a psychological break and my dad called him over and he just spent a while talking to me telling him that he’s very proud of me and I stood like this 🧍‍♀️ whaaat 😭 and my mum was like to treat him like I do my dad so as to not get nervous around him in that situation and she was being so nice then even tho like an hour prior she was telling me how much of an embarrassment to the family name I was for him now being involved … anyways he’s coming over like tmrw haha

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which an impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

[incorrectbatfam]

Bruce goes to meet the other fathers? Have a barbecue with Clark, Oliver, Berry and talk about their kids?

"Damian told me that I was cool, it's been a while since one of my kids told me that" or "Mia is doing so well at school these days"

those moments when they are all (old men) father proud of the mess the kids are?

The dads: *lounging on beach chairs*

Clark: It's nice to finally get a day off. I think Jon needed it more than me. He's still reeling from growing up and suddenly turning back into a kid again.

Ollie: How'd that happen, anyway?

Duke, walking by: That's just this blog.

Clark: What?

Duke: Nothing. Hey, B, can we use the jacuzzi?

Bruce: Sure, go ahead.

Duke: *gives Emiko a thumbs up*

Emiko: *drains the jacuzzi*

Harper and Cullen: *start cleaning the pipes*

Ollie: I know how you feel, Clark. Roy's the happiest I've seen him with Lian back but it's still a big change. We're working on getting her enrolled in school this fall so she can catch up on what she's missed.

Roy: *sprays the tub with disinfectant*

Jason: *dries it with a leaf blower*

Hal: Speaking of changes, Jaime graduated with honors. I know he's not my kid but I can't help but feel like a proud uncle. Kyle got a new concept artist job, by the way, and I think he really likes it.

Jaime: *turns the jacuzzi back on*

Kyle: *sets up folding tables*

Barry, chuckling: Bart tried to enter a marathon the other day.

Clark: Kon wanted to pay money to go skydiving. I don't get it.

Aquaman: I remember when Kaldur joined an amateur scuba class at that age. Perhaps it's an attempt to feel more human.

Bruce: It's easy for us to forget sometimes too.

Kon, carrying a giant pot: Boiling hot soup, coming through!

Kon: *pours it into the jacuzzi*

Cass: *adds spices*

Tim, with a clipboard: One down, eleven more to go. Bart, stop eating the ingredients.

Bart: It's just tofu.

Tim: That's for Damian. What's he gonna do now, starve?

Bruce: Dick's been coming home more often lately. I can tell Alfred's really happy when he sees us all together.

Dick: *drapes tablecloths over the tables*

Wally: *sets up plates*

Steve, walking in: Mind if I join? Diana's running a little late so she sent me and the girls ahead.

Clark: Of course, feel free.

Donna, holding a basket: Where do these vegetables go?

Barbara: I'll take them. Could one of you get some spoons from the kitchen?

Cassie: On it.

Steve: So where are all the ladies?

Bruce: They're in the living room. Selina's showing off her latest... um... collection. Alfred has tea in the kitchen if you want some.

Steve: Don't mind if I do.

Yara: Should I put the meat in now?

Jon: One sec.

Jon: *scoops some soup aside*

Jon: You're good now. I just needed a vegetarian portion for Dami.

Kon: MORE SOUP COMING!

Ollie: Honestly, I'm surprised everyone's doing fairly well given the industry we're in.

Steph, leading a crowd into the yard: And here's where our main event will be.

Bette: *checking names off a guest list*

Bette: That's almost everyone. Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter are gonna be a little late. Avery's on a mission in Shanghai so she can't make it. Beast Boy and Raven stopped to buy desserts. And the We Are Robin kids just got stuck on a stalled subway train but they should be here pretty soon.

Clark: I think it's a matter of good mentorship and giving them plenty of time and space to get acclimated to the superhero lifestyle.

Jesse: *making lemonade*

Ace: *fills the coolers with ice*

Garth and Kaldur: *handing out drinks*

Barry: And giving them plenty of room to grow at their own pace.

Hal: Very true.

Bruce, sighing contently: You can't help but be proud of them.

The kids, chanting: HOT POT! HOT POT!

[boltwrites]

I need a Logan/Wade/Reader fic where reader is dating Wade (before movie) and meets Logan, sees how he acts with Wade, and makes a ton of “just fuck already” jokes that Wade (ofc) encourages and it pisses Logan off until he does one day (reader included lol) 😏

A/N: i'm going to have to make a part 2 for this, since this is pretty much solely humor and reader making fun of wade and logan. i will be making a part 2 for the smut, though. mark my fucking words.

some things to note: reader is stated as polyamorous and LGBT (no specific label is mentioned). also, lots of sex jokes and fourth wall breaks lmao.

You were used to Wade bringing around some strange characters. Usually, they thought he had drugs or something (which he did, most of the time. Until they all mysteriously went missing right before his birthday party. Almost like his unsavory lifestyle was suddenly sanitized for wider consumption. Hm. Weird.) Sometimes they wanted money - other times it seemed more likely that Wade was holding them for ransom and relapsing into his merc days. But that wasn't really your business.

The point to your opening statement was: you didn't really want to fuck Wade's friends. Astonishing, really - you went to high school with a group of weird kids that all turned out to be some flavor of L,G,B or T and as such, you either wanted to or did fuck most of them. But Wade's friends? They just lacked a little something-something. Al was too old and too high most of the time. Yukio and her gruff girlfriend were far too young for you. Colossus was too Russian. Vanessa was Wade's ex - which would have been hot, honestly - but you weren't the biggest fan of how the two of them handled the post-breakup, and therefore she was off limits. But Peter... maybe...?

No. No, if you fucked Peter, Wade would never let you hear the end of it.

So, you were typically relegated to Wade, and Wade alone, which was more than fine by you. That insane healing factor meant the man could go all night, and he was naturally (or, unnaturally. Mutantly?) ribbed for your pleasure. Nice.

So when he came back from his most recent world-saving (multiverse saving?) adventure, you expected him to bring back maybe some kind of bright-eyed teenage sidekick, or a wacky off-the-wall team up, like Dopinder.

Ah, right, Dopinder. God, you would have fucked him. Sadly, the man was staunchly monogamous like some kind of fucking freak.

Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, when you walked into Wade's unbirthday party? He had company. And the company? Hot. Old. Man.

Oh no. Your fucking weakness.

You'd really never forgive Wade for evaporating Cable before you had a chance with him.

Maybe this was his make-up present.

And said present - or, man, shouldn't objectify - could not take his damn eyes off Wade. Glaring at him, huffing a little half-chuckle when Wade insulted someone with a joke, rolling his eyes as Wade recounted some story of their conquests with exaggerated arm movements and wild, unnecessary additions.

Oh my god. Oh my god? Did Wade fuck him before you could? That bitch!

You scoffed to yourself as you threw your jacket on the coat rack - or was that Peter? Who gives a shit. You were on a mission. You sauntered straight up to Wade, no greeting or preamble, and tossed your arm around his shoulders, setting your ass down right in his lap.

"Oh, hell yeah! There's my sugar ass-" Wade grinned at you, and you just rolled your eyes and planted a big kiss on his bald forehead. Thank god, he'd stopped wearing that dumbass hair. It made him look like a social studies teacher. And not a good one - like one of the ones that just took the job so that he could coach the JV boy's soccer team, and he's not even very good at that. Anyway.

Wade wrapped an arm around you, and you adjusted yourself on his lap, hazarding a glance over at the man sitting next to him. His eyes flit from Wade to you, then to Wade again, brow scrunched a little closer together than when you'd first seen him.

"Wolvie, meet my little discord kitten. And you-" he broke the fourth wall, just to look you straight in the eyes. "This, is the big bad wolf. Er-ine. Yeah. Yeah, that works."

"Wade," you replied, trying not to think about the fact that he just looked into your eyes like you were a camera on the Office. "You never told me you were bringing home a third. I would have brought the nice strap."

The man - Wolvie? Wolverine? Whatever - choked on his beer, and shot Wade a confused, accusatory glare.

"What about the-"

Wolvie gestured in the direction of Vanessa, and Wade's eyes widened, his mouth actually fell open. And this time, it wasn't fake or sarcastic shock, but actual, genuine emotion.

"Oh, no no no - that metal skull of yours really is dense, isn't it, peanut?" He knocked on Wolvie's forehead with way more force than he would use on any normal human, and the man batted Wade's hand away like a pissy tom cat, lip curled over his teeth in a growl.

That was. Hot. Ok.

Wade continued talking anyway - as he always did.

"No, Vanessa? Lovely lady, don't get me wrong - but that ship sailed loooong ago, my temporally-challenged friend," Wade sighed, squeezing the arm that was around your shoulder. "No - that relationship was, as the kids say - 'lacking in communication and emotional openness' - oh, and she made me feel like chicken shit for not being a superhero!"

"Babe, you did that to yourself," you shook your head at him. Really - Vanessa and Wade had just grown apart. She'd looked into more gainful employment, and Wade had followed, struggling to integrate into whatever the fuck "proper" society was. What really happened was that Wade blamed himself for her death and tied way too much of his self-worth to their relationship. And Vanessa - well, she just didn't feel safe with him anymore. It wasn't her fault; it was the PTSD. But it still hurt him. It was better for the both of them to part ways. You always knew Wade still held a torch for her, but you didn't mind much in a relationship sense. You were polyamorous - your man loving multiple people didn't bother you. What did matter was the fact that for Wade's mental health - or what little of it remained - he shouldn't be trying to get with that woman again.

"Yeah! I know! I was getting to that - shh," he pressed a finger to your lips and you kissed it, which made him go "aww" before returning to his rambling. "Anyway, while I was on this beautiful journey of self-discovery, I realized so many things, buttercup."

He sighed, cupping your cheek. "The Avengers are absolute booty ass - without their mainstay former drug addict, I'm afraid they lost out on the crowd of little white girls that want to fuck older men, and we all know that demographic is vital to the longevity of a franchise. Furthermore, the Honda Odyssey fucks hard, which means I have to re-examine my vehicle-related inherent biases. Oh, and also - I'm not a hero. Can't pretend to be some kind of 'normie.' So I'd rather be a freak with the rest of the rejects."

Wade gestured to the rest of the party, and your grin widened, arms wrapping tight around his neck and pulling him in for a stupid, sloppy kiss. God, that's what you'd been trying to tell him for goddamn ages. Thank fuck, the whole multiverse just had to be threatened for him to realize it. You should have expected it - that's just kind of how men are.

Wolverine cleared his throat, and you pulled away, patting Wade on the chest. The older man looked at the both of you with trepidation, like he might be interrupting something. Your heart skipped a little - he really did like Wade, didn't he? Well -

"That's great, baby," you patted Wade's cheek. "Glad you had to experience whatever is closest to death for you to realize what's really important. That's so incredibly healthy and absolutely viable in the long-term."

Wolvie chuckled, grinning at both you and your boyfriend. Oh no - not only was he hot, he was pretty. That stupid little cat ear hair wasn't helping, especially not when he was laughing at your joke.

You took the opportunity to raise your leg just enough to brush your calf along the inside of his knee, and his eyes immediately flicked to yours, smile faltering as he calculated whether to lean into it or shy away.

"Thank you, I so appreciate you, baby-boo-" Wade nuzzles his nose against your cheek and you giggled, biting your lip to quell your laugh as you tried to watch both boys. "But if I remember correctly, before we went on this plot-hole addressing rant, you said something about the good strap?"

He waggled his hairless brows, and your gaze flicked between the two of them again - Wade, eager and grinning; Wolvie, tense and most certainly blushing.

"Yeah," you sighed dramatically, waving your hand in the direction of the refreshments table. "Unfortunately, the food at this party isn't bottom friendly. Shame."

"Fuck!" Wade cursed, head snapping forward in frustration. "I knew Peter forgot something! That insensitive metrosexual!"

You snorted, shook your head as your gaze pulled to Wolverine, you dragged your leg just a little higher.

"Oh, don't worry about it. If your friend here wants, we could recreate your favorite Lonely Island music video."

Said friend's brow knit, his jaw clenched as he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, as if you'd translate your Wade-speak for him.

Thankfully, your boyfriend did it for you, with an exaggerated gasp for comedic effect.

"3-Way (The Golden Rule) (Featuring Lady Gaga & Justin Timberlake)?" He cried, leaning over so that he could smush his face closer to yours. You waggled your eyebrows suggestively.

He all but squealed, kicking his feet to the point where he almost launched you straight out of his lap.

"You hear that, Logan-boy? It won't even be gay - with a honey in the middle there's some leeway," he gestured to you dramatically, jazz-hands and all.

"It might be a little gay," you whispered in Wolvie - Logan's? - direction.

Either way, it seemed like something one of you said made the poor man short-circuit. He was just looking at the two of you like Wade was regrowing a baby head.

"It is, like, a genuine offer," you clarified for him. "We're not fucking with you - well. Wade's always fucking around."

"Oh, but I am so serious about this, babygirl. Wanna find out if that 207th bone is also adamantine, let me tell you-"

"Shut your whore mouth," Logan hissed at Wade, and you heard the man's teeth click as Wade's jaw snapped shut. What?

"Hey, did he just listen to you when you told him to shut up?"

Logan raised an eyebrow, but gave you a curt nod as answer. Your head whipped from one man to the other.

"You two definitely fucked already!"

"Oh-"

"What did he tell you?" You cut in, finger raised as Wade tried to speak. His eyes widened, and his lips closed like he had no control over them. Your jaw fell open. You turned to Logan like he was some kind of evil sex magician. Which - maybe he was. Or maybe that was a different man from the same movie that no one knows how to write because someone actually gave him an accurate accent. How would you know?

"We didn't fuck," Logan clarified. "We fought. Hard."

"It was the only way around the Hays Code censor!" Wade cut in, words spilling out like he only had a few seconds before Logan shot him another look that had his mouth shutting and his pants tightening.

You rolled your eyes. "Sweetie, the Hays Code was abolished in 1968," you patted his cheek like you were talking to a child.

"Tell that to the mouse!"

"Well," you did your best to get this trainwreck back on track. "Anyway. What do you think, hmm?"

You directed your question at Logan-Wolvie-Wolverine. It was so hard to learn somebody's actual name when Wade just threw nicknames out like candy.

But still, the man frowned, lips pursed as he considered the proposition. His lips twitches as he swirled the bottle of beer in his hand, like he could find the answers in the foam that swelled there. He shook his head, then took a sip, smacking an "ah" before the bottle hit the table with a thump.

"Eh. What the hell."

Oh. Fuck. Yes.

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141! As classic highschool jock tropes

(Im brainrotting agane so lets get this outta the way)

Tw: nsfw themes/ implications 18+ !!

So the 4 are the popular kids for sure

However wacky they may be, or how god awful their reputation is— the people love em, and are very VERY downbad for ‘em

Price, as the captain of the rugby team, is the cocky type

Overconfident, knows how to sell himself, the typical rich kid that would hold parties after every game win

And they always win

Price is the Troy Bolton equivalent, with all the talents but none of the motivation to use ‘em or explore the arts

He is committed to the game, and the only time where you can find him dead serious and hyper focused

Though in relationships? He’s far from that

Body count? Don’t even try and think about it, its not like he keeps score either

But he does score them based on how good they are (he is BI and will fuck anyone)

The fact that he hasn’t fucked you would be quite rare

Protection king actually, because he will NOT take responsibility for what happens after the deed

But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t raw dog you if you wanted to :)

Ghost, is still as enigmatic as ever and the most brooding out of the four

But that doesn’t mean he won’t kick your ass

To be honest, he wouldn’t hold back at ALL (especially if you insulted his rock music or his fashion sense)

He does play in the same team as Price, and is actually his second in command

He’s super quick on his feet because he does boxing at the side

(How else would he expel all of his angsty teenage energy?)

That’s why he’s always sluggish and the type to sleep in class (but still get straight As ‘cause he’s just a natural smart ass like that)

Teachers are afraid of this man and is also scared of the backing that he has because of his parents and his association with Price and his own parents too (they fund the school board)

In terms of hooking up other people…

He doesn’t do it often but when he does-

Well, let’s just say that people go to him if they feel a little…experimental

Aftercare? The bare minimum ‘cause he knows its intense

Will he do it often and go out of his way to do it? No (but maybe he would for you)

Gaz, is the the “nice” guy out of the four

He’s the type to always get straight As, participate in all the projects, join community projects, be student council president—

Yes, he wants absolute control under his finger tips

People really don’t know if they’re being tugged on strings with him at the helm, doing every bit of his bidding without even him lifting a single finger

While he sits there, looking all pretty

He does play sports but is quite average

But you already know that he’s the one lifting his shirt for the nice lowkey, candid abs pic

Always a performer in the field, which sometimes pisses off Price and Ghost (they’re very competitive when they get into the zone) but really does decently enough that he gets scouted too

Although, he prefers that he handles more of the internal working of school

Slowly ensuring that the four of them have absolute control of the school— all for their amusement of course

His hook-up culture is a bit…skewed

A sadist in the sheets and a masochist in the closet

An absolute wild animal if you managed to hook up with him

But if he hooks up with any of the three other guys?

Well, let’s (also) just say that Ghost has to get his practice in somehow, right? Or when he’s frustrated and need to take it out in a…more sensual way

He is as willing as the day he joined them

Soap, is the wildest party animal out of the four

And because of that, he’s the go-to guy for supplies in alcohol and drugs

Even has connections in getting places for parties (like abandoned parks, houses, a lake side getaway- whatever you wanted he’ll get it)

But for a pretty penny, of course

He is the stash keeper in terms of money and all of the above

He’s also the hustler, working hand-in-hand with Ghost whenever they need to deal with someone

Unruly doesn’t quite match the energy he gives off everyday

Messing and pranking with the teachers aren’t even enough for him

Vandalizing is too common and just wreaking havoc is the name of his game

He does play on the team with the rest but often gets fouls or does foul play that he gets red carded out immediately anyways

Does he care for any type of attraction with hook-ups? Nope

He just fucks ‘em and leaves, responsibilities be damned

You chose to be with him anyways, right? Its not like forced you to the lone room upstairs or anything

Its not him who removed his clothes in front him— it was all your own will and he simply just jumped at the opportunity and your wide open arms

You, on the other hand, just transferred to this school

Unknowing of its inner workings

You find yourself at this school because of a troubled family life

With such a failure in their lives, they decide to dump you here by your lonesome

And now you have to figure out how to live in and outside of this school

Lemme know if you want more crumbs of this hehe <3

[sapphire-writes]

The Au Pair (modern!HOTD) part 1

Part 1 ~ Part 2

pairing: Daemon x fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

summary: You take a new job nannying for a family on the Upper East Side. You find yourself intrigued by both parents.

warnings: 18+ (slight power imbalance as they're your bosses, sensual themes), language

word count: 3.1k

note: I've been in a Daemon x Rhae mood and this idea came to me and suddenly it is here, enjoy my loves!

When you looked up at the high-rise apartment building, you felt your stomach drop. You had always been that way with heights, whether looking down or looking up at something tall, the feeling of intense vertigo washing over you. You took in a deep breath to steady yourself, draining the rest of your coffee before walking in. 

Throwing the cup in a nearby bin, you popped a mint into your mouth to hopefully disguise your coffee breath. 

You’d nannied before but never au-paired. It seemed to be a little more intense, having you live with the family, and become a part of the family. But you had to get out of your current living situation, and the website was too tempting to pass up. 

You didn’t even think you’d get a response when you sent in your resume. You recognized the family name; old money, the backbone of Wall Street. It was too good to be true when you received an email inviting you in person for an interview.

Still, the thought of caring for three boys was nearly overwhelming. 

“You’ll only truly be a little help,” Rhaenyra had told you, after leading you through the foyer, giving you hot tea in a cup that felt so delicate it might break in your small hands. 

Rhaenyra had ushered you to the sofa, before sitting in the one directly across. She crossed her ankles, clad in a dark maroon suit, her silver hair striking against the wine-colored fabric. She was ethereally beautiful, the kind of pretty that takes your breath away. 

“Luke and Joff are the littles, they require the most attention,” Rhaenyra explained.

You take a sip of the tea, warmth flooding through you.

“How old are they?” you ask, blowing on the tea. 

“Jacaerys is the oldest, he’s nine, then there’s Luke who is seven, and little Joffrey is only four,” Rhaenyra tells you.

“No girls?” you ask and she shakes her head. 

“Daemon’s daughters Baela and Rhaena sometimes visit during the week, they’re nine as well. They live with their mother mostly, and often spend the weekends with us.”

“You have a full house,” you comment, smiling.

“Several,” Rhaenyra answers, mirroring your smile, “We have two apartments here, in the city, during the weekends we go to our house, outside of the city.”

“That’s wonderful, that you’re able to get away,” you tell her, “the city can be overwhelming.”

“I agree,” she says, “it’s nice to have an escape. So, tell me about yourself,” she cocks her head to the side, “what made you want this position?”

You sigh, deciding it's best to be truthful.

“Well, I’ve worked with kids before, on and off,” you begin, “some babysitting, nannying, I was a camp counselor for one summer.”

Rhaenyra nods, her violet eyes warm and inviting.

“I also, just recently lost my apartment,” you tell her, “it’s a long story, but I need to be out by the end of the month, so a job that comes with a place to live was very tempting.”

Rhaenyra smiles, and you nervously play with the rings on your fingers. 

“I can be really good with the kids, I think we’ll get along great.”

Rhaenyra looks you up and down as the door opens. The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen walks in, throwing his briefcase on the counter. His silver hair falls in front of his eyes as he leans against the counter, tapping his ring-clad fingers against the black marble.

“Daemon,” she calls, not turning around, “meet our guest.”

Daemon simply glances at you, busy with something on his phone.

“He’ll warm up, don’t you worry,” Rhaenya says, standing.

“I won’t let you down if given this opportunity,” you tell her, placing your teacup down and standing to leave.

“I know you won’t,” she says, taking your arm to lead you to the door, “let me discuss with my husband, and we’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, truly,” you tell her at the door, “It was nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Rhaenyra,” she insists.

“Rhaenyra,” you say, and she leads you out.

Rhaenyra sighs, returning to the couch and flipping through your resume once more. 

“I’m shocked you let her leave,” Daemon says, dropping a kiss on Rhaenyra’s head, and squeezing her shoulder with a ring-clad hand.

“She’ll be back,” Rhaenyra assures him, “I’m taking it slow.”

“Surprising,” Daemon says, “with her calling you ma’am so sweetly.”

Rhaenyra merely glances up at him, smiling coyly at her husband. 

“I’ll give her a call this evening then,” Rhaneyra says, kissing the back of his hand, “officially offer her the job?”

“Call her now, if you like,” Daemon tells her.

“She’s probably still in the building,” Rhaenyra says with a chuckle.

“Even better,” Daemon says.

Rhaenyra hums, pulling out her phone.

“Someone’s eager,” Rhaenyra teases, earning a low growl from her husband.

After celebratory drinks with your girlfriends and packing all your shit into boxes, a car picks you up bringing you to your new home. You’re shown to your room by one of the housekeepers. It’s perfect for you, with large windows and a private bathroom. The bed feels like heaven as you lay on top of it. You can’t believe your luck. 

You’re introduced to the boys when they come home from school. While Jace is apprehensive, Luke warms to you right away, insisting on showing you his collection of Lego model sets. Dragons are his favorite at the moment. You spend the afternoon with them, and the day flies by. 

Only when you’re in your room later, fresh out of the shower and dressed for bed do you realize you’ve lost something rather important in the move. You silently curse, and pad down the hallway toward the home office Rhaenyra uses. 

“Mrs. Targaryen?” you ask, knocking on the office door.

Rhaenyra beckons you in, smiling, removing her blue light glasses and looking away from the computer. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you-”

“Nonsense, darling, what is it?” Rhaenyra says, lacing her fingers together, “and what did I say about addressing me?”

You blush, forgetting yourself. You find it easy to get flustered in Rhaenyra’s presence. 

“I’m sorry, Rhaenyra,” you correct yourself.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” she tells you.

Her tone is so sweet, so kind, and loving that it almost makes you want to apologize again. You release a breathy laugh instead. 

“I seem to have lost my hairbrush in the move,” you tell her, “you wouldn’t happen to have an extra one lying around?”

Rhaenyra stands, walking out from behind her desk and toward you. 

“Of course, come here,” she tells you, reaching for your hand.

It's warm and soft as she interlaces her fingers with yours, pulling you out of the home office and down the hallway. You haven’t yet seen Daemon and Rhaenyra’s room, though you realize this is about to change. She opens the door and brings you into their room. 

You can’t help but gawk at windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling revealing the New York City skyline. The curtains are still open, revealing the sparkling city below. Daemon is already seated in bed on top of the covers reading, looking up as you enter with Rhaenyra. 

“Already?” he asks, and Rhaenyra shushes him.

“Our friend is without a hairbrush,” she says, releasing your hand and moving to enter the master bathroom. 

Daemon hums at her response, returning to his book. The bed is huge, big enough to comfortably fit the whole family if they wanted. The sheets are a deep gray, and look like they’re made of the softest silk. You almost want to reach out and touch them, feel the softness when Rhaenyra reenters the room.

“Sit,” she tells you, motioning to the bed.

“That’s okay,” you assure her, “I can-”

“It’s the least I can do,” she interrupts.

You want to argue with her. They’re letting you live in a gorgeous highrise on the Upper East Side and essentially want for nothing, and yet they’re the ones who are grateful? You suppose it just shows what good parents they are, wanting nothing but the best for the boys. It warms your heart knowing you can help support them in that way. 

Rhaenyra motions to the bed once more and you sit down on the edge. You know immediately that sleeping in that bed would cure any problems you’ve ever had. It’s so soft against you and you run your hand over the sheets. Rhaenyra sits next to you, crossing her legs. 

“Turn for me,” she says, and you move so your back faces her. 

She takes your hair, still wet from your shower, and runs her hands through it gently. You can feel her nails against your scalp causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. She moves the hair from your neck before gently beginning to brush through your hair. It’s so relaxing your eyes flutter shut. 

Daemon is watching now, closing his book and leaning his head back against the headboard. Rhaenyra meets his gaze and his eyes narrow. She flicks an eyebrow at him, continuing. Daemon sticks his tongue against his cheek before rising from the bed. You open your eyes as you feel him move, watching as you walk by you, stopping to press a kiss against Rhaenyra’s cheek.

He heads into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as you hear the shower turn on. Rhaenyra places the brush on your lap.

“There you are,” she tells you, placing her hands on your shoulder and squeezing.

“Thank you,” you tell her earnestly. 

Her kindness brings tears to your eyes and you find yourself wanting to hug her, bury your face in the crook of her neck, and have her lavish your face with kisses. The thought brings a blush to your cheeks. She’s your boss. Still, as you get up to leave and bid her goodnight, you find your gaze falling to her lips. You look away quickly.

“Thank you again, Rhaenyra,” you tell her, “For everything. I’m really grateful for this opportunity.”

Rhaenyra smiles, smoothing some hair from your face.

“We’re happy to have you,” she tells you, “Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight,” you tell her, leaving the room and heading to your own.

Daemon reappears with wet hair and a towel around his waist. Droplets of water cling to his chest and shoulders. Rhaenyra smirks at him.

“Enjoy your cold shower?” she teases and he chuckles in response. 

The following week is a test run, seeing how you handle the boys and their schedule. It’s easy enough-no scarily easy. The boys are a dream, so well behaved and respectful toward you, and enjoying the attention that is devoted to them while their mother and stepfather are busy working. 

Your schedule is simple. Wake up, make sure the boys get their breakfast, escort them to school, and then the rest of the morning and early afternoon is yours. Rhaenyra has assured you that sometimes she shall give you some errands to run, but for the most part, you’re free to ponder around different coffee shops and bookstores and attend your university classes. 

You pick up Joffrey first, as his daycare releases him in the early afternoon, and bring him on a walk. Then you wait for Jace and Luke to end their school days and escort them to their afterschool activities. You almost feel bad for Rhaenyra and Daemon, like you’re taking advantage of them somehow. It shouldn’t be this easy, right? It can’t be this perfect?

You’re still lost in your thoughts while you sit on a park bench watching Joffrey toddle about on a play structure as someone sits down beside you. You blink, pulled from your thoughts, giving her a kind smile. 

“You’re the new Targaryen AP, right?” the girl asks, smiling at you.

“Yeah!” you answer, telling her your name. 

“I’m Shae,” she tells you, “The Lannister’s Au Pair.”

You nod. You’ve heard that name before. Shae points at a little girl with golden curls on the swings. 

“Cerelle Lannister, one of the little lions I look after,” she says chuckling. 

She motions for your phone.

“Here, let me put in my number,” she tells you, and you smile while handing her your phone, “We have to stick together, you know?”

“Thanks,” you tell her, “I’d love to get coffee sometime and get some advice. This is my first time being an Au Pair.”

Shae raises an eyebrow as she adds her number. 

“Good luck with the Targaryens,” she tells you chuckling, “they can’t seem to hold onto an AP for more than a month.”

Your brow furrows and you glance at the boys. You can see Jace running across the soccer field and Luke on the other side with the younger boys. Joffrey plays on the playground, staying in your line of sight. You can’t help but smile.

“I don’t see why,” you tell her, “the boys are great. Very well behaved, impressive manners. Better than me.”

Shae laughs. 

“It’s Daemon and Rhaenyra I’d be wary of,” Shae tells you, voice lowering with the nature of the conversation, “the last girl they had was doing fine until suddenly she’s signing an NDA and being shipped out of New York. I never spoke to her again.”

A chill rolls through you. 

Jace calls your name, running over to you.

“Did you see what I did!” he says, a huge grin on his face, Luke trailing behind him.

“You were so awesome Jacey!” you tell him, ruffling his hair.

They’ve warmed up to you immediately. 

You keep thinking about what Shae said all night. When you join the kids for dinner, Rhaenyra and Daemon do not, as they ended up having to work late. When you tuck them in and return to your room you find a small box on your bed. 

You open it, revealing a small necklace. Dainty, and expensive, with a small pearl hanging off the chain. 

A gift. 

You pick up the card that goes with it.

For all your help, xx

There’s no signature. Though you suppose it must be from Rhaenyra. You blush at the kind gesture before retiring to bed for the night, curling up in the soft sheets with a book.

The next few weeks go smoothly, and without any fusses. The boys are lovely as ever and easy to drag around to different parks, activities, and school functions. They’re starting to feel like your little brothers, like your own children even. You journey with them to the weekend house, an hour outside the city, roasting marshmallows, swimming in the gorgeous pool, and taking them to get ice cream. It’s paradise, it’s a dream. 

You see Rhaenyra more than Daemon, though she was right. He does seem to be warming up to you, glancing at you more, checking in on you. Sitting with you when you’re at the counter for breakfast. Letting a hand drift across your back as he passes by.

You keep finding gifts. A silk robe, a new purse, a pair of earrings that match the necklace given to you. Fresh flowers by your bedside. It’s very sweet of them, to be so welcoming. Almost romantic. 

Later one night during the week, you can’t seem to find sleep.

You make your way to the kitchen, feet padding softly down the hallway. Rhaenyra had said to help yourself to anything, what’s theirs is yours. You’d been craving something sweet since dinner. Since moving into the highrise your palate has begun to adjust to the rich, expensive foods the chef makes and has begun to spoil you. You’re starting to wonder how you’ll ever go back to living normally when this job ends. It’s not something you want to think about. You’re determined to stay as long as possible. 

You open the fridge, the light bathing the floor in front of you. You look around, moving things trying to find a treat. Their fridge is crazy stocked, full of fresh fruits and vegetables, and green juices. Things that sound good any time but now. Now you need chocolate. 

“Looking for something?” a deep voice calls and you jump.

“Shit, you scared me, sir,” you say, holding your hand against your chest. 

Daemon moves toward you from the shadows, silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He’s shirtless and you make a point to look at his lavender eyes. They’re almost black in the low light, a smirk dancing on his lips. 

“I was just looking for something sweet,” you tell him, biting your lip.

“Something sweet, hmm?” he echoes, reaching around you to open the freezer. 

You back up, suddenly very aware of your choice of pajamas. Another gift you’d found waiting on your bed, a silky red set. The tank top hands low, the shorts hugging the curves of your ass and thighs. 

“Try this,” Daemon says, holding out some gelato.

You let out a breathy sigh. 

“What?” Daemon asks, tilting his head curiously.

“Everything here is so fancy,” you tell him, “even the ice cream.”

“Isn't it nice to have expensive things?” he asks, unscrewing the lid and throwing it on the black marble counter.

“I don’t know if I’ll like it,” you tell him, nose scrunching.

He chuckles, cocking an eyebrow. Daemon reaches for a drawer, pulling out a long silver spoon, perfect for ice cream. He dips it into the gelato before bringing his violet eyes to yours.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, holding the spoon out to your lips.

With his seductive tone, the roughness of his voice floating over you like silk caressing your skin, you instinctively part your lips, accepting the sweet treat. It’s cold and sweet as it moves across your tongue, sliding down your throat. A bit dribbles on your lips as Daemon removes the spoon from the confines of your mouth. A small remnant of the cream lingers on the spoon and Daemon places it between his lips. 

Your eyes are wide, watching him suck on it, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. He removes the spoon, licking his lips. You bring your hand to your lips wiping away the trace of cream that remains.

“Do you like it?” Daemon asks, voice gruff, eyes hungry for more than gelato. 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

He smiles and then places the container in your hand.

“Enjoy,” he tells you, before walking out of the kitchen. 

You stay still, standing dumb for several minutes after he leaves, feeling the container of gelato begin to soften the longer you hold it. Snapping out of your trance, you hurry back to your room, closing the door behind you. 

note: hope you enjoyed my loves! 😘

HOTD TAGLIST GENERAL: @bluevxnuss, @thattargboy, @xlilacfrostx, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @marvelescape, @geminithrone, @deltamoon666, @i-killed-ramsey, @tempt-ress, @eddiemadmunson, @zillahvathek, @hangmanscoming, @jojoesq, @f4ll-for-you, @rwdkarla, @cc13723things, @filipiniamultifandom, @watercolorskyy @alexxavicry @sachafirebringer @polireader @jamespotterismydaddy @grv7ay9In35s @sofiaadler @sophielangdonx @doublesparrows, @sophielangdonx, @alitaar, @castellomargot, @paodemorangol1l1, @nik2blog, @arkainea @eddiemadmunson, @malfoytargaryen, @eudximoniax, @targaryen-world, @ghostheartbeat @savagemickey03, @aemondsdaemons, @candypurplebutterfly, @eddiemadmunson, @xxnaly2, @ghostheartbeat, @savagemickey03, @dieg0brandos-wife, @paodemorangol1l1, @hb8301, @padfooteyes, @valeskafics @doublesparrows, @bornbetter, @beyond-the-ashes, @clairacassidy, @aslanvez, @loglady00, @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly, @minami97, @serving-targaryen-realness, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @possiblyafangirl, @shmexie, @winter-soldier-101, @kaelatargaryen, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @floswife, @mizfortuna, @strawberryduvet, @girlwith-thepearlearring, @arryn-nyx

bold means I could not tag!

✨ click here to be added to taglist ✨

[skylarsblue]

✦Incorrect C.O.D Quotes, since AO3 is down✦

Gaz: I wanna know what exactly your type is. Y/N: I'm not just gonna give you more fodder to throw at me- Gaz: I have an idea of it already, but I want details! Y/N: No! Gaz: Like- König! Would you- Y/N: Of fuckin’ course I wanna fuck König! He’s huge, he could LITERALLY snap me in half and my dad didn’t love me, of course I want him to fuck me! Soap: *does that weird inhale-choke-cough*

— (Dick mention + a woman’s experience of a dude making gross comments. It’s funny I swear-) Fem!medic!Y/N: most of the time, people are pretty nice and sometimes impressed when when I bring up I’m a medical professional. Other times…eh.. Soap: Eh? Y/N: Sometimes you get conspiracy theorists. Soap: Ohhhh… Y/N: Some evangelists, gross dudes. Gaz: Gross dudes? What’s the worst you’ve heard? Ghost, sipping a whiskey: This outta be good. Y/N: Uh, once I told this man hitting on me I was a field doctor? He said, and I quote. “Been awhile since my last check up, mind checking me for ball cancer.” And I- Gaz: WHAT Soap: YOU’RE KIDDING Y/N: I am not. I just- I walked away. Price: Fuckin’ hell. Y/N: It’s fine. He got shot in the dick next mission, ended up with a male doctor. Ghost: Karma at its best.

- Graves: Oh FUCK YOU Y/N: Tsk, oooo…you don’t have enough money for that. Soap: HAHA!

- Soap, drunk: Back Street’s back, alright! Do do do do- Gaz, drunk on Price’ shoulders: Dodooodo- Price: Simon, get your boy. Ghost: *picking Soap up by his belt, carrying him like a bag* Yes sir.

- Recruit: When you gonna stop giving me blue balls? Gaz: Whoa hey!- Y/N: Aight, I got my steel toes on. How bout we make’em black and blue? Recruit: I- Y/N: Shut the fuck up. I’ve already turned you down, get a hint. Word of advice? Rather than shoot for the stars, maybe shoot your shot in your lower bracket, yeah? Recruit: Gaz: Someone get a fire extinguisher, this dudes been burned. Soap: On it. *sprays recruit with fire extinguisher*

- Soap: Nice onesie, does it come in men’s? Gaz, in his pyjamas: I think you cum enough in men for the all of us. Soap: ACK- Ghost: *slides out of the room*

- Ghost: Have you ever considered, just once, using your brain first? Soap: Now why would I do that?

- (Insert random name I HC for Laswell’s wife) Kate, after being in a bad explosion and ending up in this hospital: My wife, she’ll get upset if she sees you rubbing me like that on my chest. Diana: I am your wife. Kate …. Diana: :) Heart rate monitor: BEEPBEEPBEEPBE- Kate Hi. Diana: Hehe, hi. Gaz, in the corner: Oh to be in love. Soap: This is disgusting, why can’t I have this? >:,( Gaz: Cause your type in men is awful. Soap: Hey!

- Y/N: *walks into common room* Hello, I am very upset. I feel a meltdown coming on and you are all buff men, so I would like to request being picked up and held like a baby for a short period of time, please. Soap: Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you? Y/N: Nope. König: ….*slowly approaches and picks Y/N up from under their arms* Y/N, clinging to him like a koala and hiding in his shoulder: Thank you, I appreciate you. König: *awkward back pat*

- König: :) Y/N: Bloopbloopbloopbloop- Horagi: Y/N! Y/N: What? Horagi: Tha-That is our colo-that is a dangerous man! Y/N: He’s not a dangerous man! Horagi: What are y- Y/N: We’re bloopin’! Bloopbloopbloop- König: -w-

- Price: Kid, I need you to- Gaz & Y/N: *dancing like they don’t have jobs to do* Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: Fuck it up! Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: Fuck it up! Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: That’s what’s up! Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: I’m in love! Price: AHEM Gaz: Oh shit- Y/N: HEEEYY captaaaaiinn, what’s uuupp ahaha… Price: *sigh*

- (Based on; Me if COD was real. Deadass. Full serious. I am not kidding) Gaz: So have you met the Captain yet? Y/N: No. Gaz: Are you nervous? Y/N: No no, I have a firm belief that they’re just people. Obviously I’ll respect him as a superior but that’s nnnnnnnnwho the hell is that? Y/N: *fucking breaking their neck* Gaz: Oh- Nope. No no, THAT is Captain. Don’t think about it. Y/N: I’m thinking about it. Gaz: That’s not allowed. Y/N: Ive done worse for less, if he asks I’m sucking it, you can’t stop me. Gaz: Jesus Bloody Christ- Y/N: Tell him to call me when he’s on leave. Gaz: Stop-

- König: *walks in* Ghost: ?? Soap: Oh, hey! Gaz: Y’a need somethi- König: *picks up Y/N under his arm while humming, leaving the room* König: I love stealing, I love taking things!~ Ghost: What the f-

- Colonel!König: I’m 42 so, I don’t- Y/N: YOU’RE 42?! Colonel!König: Yeah. Y/N: …it’s okay no one has to know babygirl~ König: NEIN! Nein, don’t call me babygirl!-

- (Based on this awful Gaz outfit I saw on Twitter) MILF!Y/N: *doing paperwork* Gaz: Would you date me? Y/N: Baby we couldn’t even get a drink together. You can’t buy me nothin. Gaz: What do you mean? :( Y/N: Look at your outfit! What are you wearing? Gaz: I think I look pretty fly. Y/N: For who, your mom? Gaz: :((

- Gaz: STOP DATING MY CAPTAIN Y/N: ….you know what, I’m gonna start dating him even harder. Gaz: What’s that supposed to mean? Y/N: You know what it means.

- MILF!Y/N: *shoving apple juice into a cart* They gon’ need nutrition. Laswell: How many kids do you have? MILF!Y/N: Eleven! Laswell: So I’m assuming your kids really like apple juice? MILF!Y/N: No but they looove orange juice but they’ve been bad this week. Laswell: What grade are your kids in? MILF!Y/N: Sixteenth grade. Laswell: PFFT Sixteenth- that’s not even a grade! So your kids graduated college? MILF!Y/N: No they, they- …where are my kids?

- (Her “kids” on the other side of the store) Price: Boys please- Gaz: I AM NOT LOSING! Soap, in a fuckin’ headlock with him: Yes you fuckin’ are!! Ghost: *slipping cookies under his mask, he did not pay for them* König: *looking for a fruity snack* Horagi: *grabbing as many packs of spicy chips as he can* Alejandro: This is a disgrace. *holding up frozen burritos* Rudy: These are worse. *motions to frozen tamales* Alex: Did you know you can use coke as rust remover? Farah: …and you want to drink it??

- Y/N: So. Kyle. Gaz, already afraid: …yes? Y/N: I found some of your old playlists… Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Y/N: You an emo? Gaz: I was a SCENE as a teenager, get it right.

[mattslolita]

daddy issues - c. sturniolo ( 001. )

in which ... whilst trying to sneak over to your house one night, chris experiences the unwarranted wrath of your father firsthand — and he learns the truth about everything you experience behind closed doors. ( best friend!chris x black!fem!reader )

warnings ; angst, fighting, crying, mentions of abuse, drug use, and self harm

"𝒈𝒐 𝒂𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒓𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, 𝒏𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

the cold night air made shivers crawl up chris sturniolo's spine as he made the familiar trek to your one story home — you lived on the rougher side of the neighborhood, but he didn’t mind the escape from his side. sure it was sketchy, yet knowing that you were close by gave him a sort of comfort.

it began in the second grade when you had just switched schools due to the scholarship you recieved — you had originally gone somewhere on your side of town, but your mom gathered up enough money to be able to send you off there. and that’s how chris met you; a group of boys had been name calling you, talking shit about where you came from. a bloody nose and suspension later, he had officially become your best friend. you still weren’t too close with his brothers, yet they were always respesctful and nice to you. matt was the quietest of them, but nonetheless polite; nick was nice, but you sometimes got a feel that he didn’t particularly favor you — he wasn’t a snobby rich kid, but the vibes weren’t all the way there. chris said that nick was just protective about the girls chris let into his life, being that over the years they had done him dirty.

but you were his best friend — you guys talked about everything and did everything together. you both had practically been attached at the hip, and although you ran in different crowds at school, chris never left you out unless it was something you wanted. he was very protective of you, especially when the guys on the lacrosse had tried flirting with you or trying to hit a few times, but he made sure they had stayed away from you.

he rubbed his calloused hands together, looking to see if the side of your home to make sure the coast was clear — chris knew that you rarely liked to have him come over because you despised your home life, but he insisted many times that no matter what it wouldn’t change how he viewed you.

he quietly makes his way towards your bedroom window, grinning as he sees your nightlight on — you had your nose buried in the book after, and it made him shake his head and smile having seen that movie with you. your brown legs glimmered in the dim light as they laid criss-cross in front of you whilst your eyes scanned the pages.

chris picked up a small rock and pelts it at the window, causing you to gasp lightly and jolt as you quickly turn towards the window. he grins when he sees your unimpressed expression staring back at him, scurrying towards the window and opening it.

“chris, you know my window gon break easily!” you whisper shouted at him, stepping aside as he crawled through.

“i know a guy who can install one y/n, just give me the-”

“boy, please get yo ass over there so i can close this, it’s freezing!” you complain quietly, chris grunting as he runs a hand through his hair whilst he steps to the side to let you close the window.

from behind you, he examines the knotless braids that adorn your head as well as the side view of your glasses that frame your eyes — one of his favorite things about you were your glasses and cute you looked with him. he had his fun once in a while, taking them off then holding them above your head as you tried to reach for them helplessly, usually ending up in a painful punch to the arm from you.

“hey sweetheart, look what i got for us,” chris smirks, pulling you to turn around by your waist as he fishes a joint from behind his ear, holding it up to you proudly.

“chris, i don’t know if i can…” you say, chewing your lip anxiously as you fix your glasses on your face, “my dad might smell it and lose his shit.”

“i doubt he’ll notice, y/n,” chris reassures you, moving to sit down on your bed, motioning for you to follow him, “c’mere, try and relax with me.”

he pats the spot next to him, and you roll your eyes and sit there reluctantly — you watch as chris pulls a lighter out of his pocket, holding it up to the joint he held to his lips and lighting it. you tried not to do drugs because the memory of your mom overdosing on them was too painful, and it’d remind you of her. drinking alcohol was also on the list of not to dos, seeing as your dad was a drunk — you were too embarrassed to tell chris about it, because you didn’t want him to view you as the girl with the wrong side of the tracks with a dead, junkie mom and drunk dad. chris was only ever down to do these things with you if it was something you expressed interest in.

he inhales the joint and blows the smoke towards the window, tapping it a few times before rubbing his thumb across his nose and offering it to you. “here, your turn.”

chris puts one arm around the small of your back, rubbing comforting circles as you take the joint and hold them up to your lips — he watches you with an amused expression as you fix your glasses, your nose crinkling at the strong scent.

before you could inhale anything, a sudden bang sounded on the other side of your door causing your heart to thump in your chest as you quickly shove the blunt back into chris’s hand. his eyebrows furrow in confusion as you jump up and make your way to your door, opening it just a crack.

“hi, daddy,” your voice cracks, a tight-lipped smile forming onto your face as you stare up at the man, “is everything okay?”

the six foot man towers over your barely five foot four figure in the doorway, glaring angrily at you as he stumbles slightly before turning up a forty ounce — you gulp and watch as the liquid rides down his throat, the posion in his insides causing his eyes to flame up as his nostrils flare at you.

“you been too quiet in here, little girl,” he slurs, shoving his foot in between your door and the wall, “what the hell you doin’ up in here?”

“i’m not doin nothin’ daddy, i’m j-just readin’,” you stutter out, fear evident in your eyes as he rubs across his nose and shakes his nose. “do you want me to-”

“get on out the damn way…”

your dad shoves you to the side, and you tremble as he forces his way into your room — chris sits there in shock, blunt still in hand as his eyes immediately land on your dad. 

“a fuckin…a fuckin dude, up in here y/n?” his voice booms, throwing the forty ounce bottle at the wall beside you, causing you to let out a cry as the glass nearly hits you.

“yo, what the fuck?” chris immediately jumps up from his spot, the blunt long forgotten as it’s smashed out when chris pulls his pants up and begins to jet towards you.

“don’t go near her,” your dad sneers at chris, grabbing the young boy’s collar as he holds him up by his shirt, causing your eyes to widen.

“daddy stop, it’s just my best friend!” you wail, trying to get him off of chris, but to no avail. he continues to shake chris up, still having him held up by the collar.

“get the fuck off of me!” chris spat, a fire in his eyes you didn’t recognize — it wasn’t often where chris got mad mad, and it was definitely a sight to see after what happens.

"what kid, you think you tough? think you can fight me off?" your dad jeers, droplets of spittle landing on chris's face as his grip on the boy was unwavering.

chris jerked in your dad's grasp, and that was enough for you to take matters into your own hands — you sprinted into the kitchen, your eyes darting around the messy room as your eyes landed on the pan over the stove. thank goodness it was turned off, but your instincts knew what you had to do.

grabbing the pan, you turn the hall and rush back into your room — your eyes widened, seeing as your dad had slammed chris against the wall now, and the poor boy look like he was struggling to breathe at this point.

without a second though, you slammed the pan against your dad's head; his grip on chris had ceased immediately, causing him to fall to the floor, a thud sounding as a result.

you stood in shock, the tears streaming down your face as you stared down at your concussed dad — chris was in a state of shock as well; he looked over at you and your brokenhearted expression, and a sharp pain tugged at his heartstrings.

he would've never guessed his best friend had been going through these things.

all those nights you'd stay over his place started to make sense now, as you covered it up with just wanting to spend more time with him, making up for loss time you didn't hang out at school; the faint bruises you tried to hide with makeup, but chris studied you closely, he knew everything about you — he felt like a shit best friend, because now he thought you didn't trust him enough to tell him in depth the things that happened to you.

"i'm sorry, chris..." you choked, finally having torn your eyes away from your dad as they now were fixated on chris, "you weren't supposed to see this...any of it..."

"hey, hey, hey, you have nothing to be sorry for, y/n," chris says immediately, stepping over your dad's frame as he makes his way towards you.

he pulls you into his arms, his warm embrace causing you to melt as more choked sobs escape your lips — he whispers sweet nothings into your ear as he holds you close to him, wanting nothing more than to protect you.

and get you away from this.

"how long as this been happening, y/n?" chris asks you when he senses that you've calmed down.

"um...since momma's died," you tell him quietly, a sniffle sounding from your nose, "not immediately after, i'd say a few months."

"this shit's been happening since fucking fifth grade?" chris seethes, and now you feel the anger radiating off of him.

"yeah, but p-please chris, don't worry about me," you tell him, breaking out of his hold as you look up at him, "i'm fine-"

"no, you aren't fine," chris immediately interrupts you, his gaze stern, "i understand if you didn't want to tell me about this, but now that i know, i'm doing what i can to keep you away from this."

your eyebrows furrowed as you took your glasses off and wiped your tears away, giving him a look of confusion. "what do you mean? wait, chris...please, i'm begging you, don't go to the police about it. i'm not eighteen yet, they gon send me to foster care, and-"

"if it's what you want, i won't," chris sighs, and you nod to him, rubbing your arm as you look around your room, "but you're coming to stay with us for a few days."

your eyes widened. "chris, i can't just intrude on y'all family like that. what's yo parents gonna say?"

"you know my mom loves you, y/n," chris shakes his head, "and everybody will be fine with it, alright? it's just like the sleepovers we had as kids."

at the fond memory, you smiled as you remembered the many sleepovers you've had in the sturniolo household — one particular one, it was your eleventh birthday; marylou being the sweetest soul she was invited you over to celebrate with them. you had a cake, candles, ice cream, but more importantly, you had chris. even nick and matt were sweet to you on the occasion, making you extra happy. she took you all to chucky e cheese, and you remember being in the ticket blaster and how everyone clapped for you with the amount of tickets you got. when you all came home, you had fallen asleep on the bed pallet marylou and jimmy set up for you, with moana playing in the background — and you never felt it in your sleep, but chris planted a gentle kiss to your cheek, promising you that every birthday you had would be a special one if it was up to him.

you smiled at chris, a tear escaping your eyes. "okay, i'll stay with y'all."

( lilly's section 💌 )

yes gang, this will be a sad series😆 but not to fear, bff chris finna be on LOCKKKK this man will do anything to protect you. i hope you guys will like this series !! no promises for an updating schedule, cause clearly y'all can see i'm inconsistent w posting😭.

to my wifey @muwapsturniolo who gave me inspo to make this a series😘😘.

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @mrssturnioloo @mattsturniolosleftnut @sturnprime @thenickgirl @guccifrog @nickgetsmewetter @eyeliketoeatpoosay @e1ias3 @sp3aknaur @middlepartmatt @summerssover @riasturns @sturn777 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @pinksturniolo @chrissturniolossidehoe @chris-slut @hoesformatt @raysmayhem-72 @lanas-doll @chrisssluttywaist @mbbsgf @jetaimevous @chaossturns @cottoncandyswisherz

[icarusredwings]

This post may not be suitable for littles or people who get uncomfy with mentions of baby making stuff. IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK THO I SWEAR!!!!

Wade:

Thinking about how much Wade loves babies when he's small.

He's holding Logan's hand down the street as they're running errands, and he's being so good, like SUPER good. Not running away, litsening to instructions, using his words in a way Kitty can understand.

He doesn't even have Fluffy with him either, so he's doing all of this with minimal emotional support, just his chewy star necklace and one of Logans big hoodies. He's in some colorful leggings, though, and in his pocket is nothing but a snack. Not even his cup.

Bro is raw dogging the adult outdoors as his small self with practically nothing. He's still wearing his dog tags, though, just in case he gets lost, they're used as a source of identification.

Ealier, when Wade wanted to pet a stray cat instead of just running off, he gasped and pointed to it. "Kitty!" Which is obviously code for "Look! A cool thing!" So when Logan looked, he saw how polite Wade was behaving.

"Be gentle, okay? Sometimes, they don't like humans." He tells him, carefully walking him over in which Wade just squats down to pet the cat very nicely. You would think 'yeah no duh he wouldn't hurt it,' and you would be correct, though sometimes he pets them too rough or moves too quickly so they get scared and scratch him.

Right now, he's bored, leaning on his shoulder and starting to get fussy because paying bills is boring, and he wants to go home. Chewing on his star, he stops, and his eyes light up, seeing a stoller.

Wade loves strollers. Because where there is a pram- Theres a babe. And babies were great. (Unless they were screaming, and then they were not)

He tugs a bit on Logan, but he's ignored because he's trying to ask the internet service people why they charged them 15 extra this month when nothing changed. "Kitty!" He points, looking at him for consent to go see the baby. Frustrated, confused, and not looking, Logan assumes that he sees another cat and waves a hand. "Yeah, sure. Be gentle."

So, being given the okay, Wade practically skips over to the stroller and crouches down to see a chunky cheeked baby boy. His mum is busy on the phone, so she doesn't even notice a grown man cooing over the child.

Giggling to the baby, he lets him grab his finger and nibble on it. Tickling his cheeks and stuff, you know. Baby stuff. So when he takes off his hood to let the baby play with his necklace, the baby gets upset and starts to cry.

I think we would all cry if we saw a glowy yellow eyed man smiling at us like that with such unfarmiliar skin. You have to remember, babies only know what they're shown, and I doubt it's ever seen anything like this before.

Of course, it cries. And the crying alerts the mom. "Ooh shh, Steven, you're al- Ahh!! Who are you! Get away from my baby, you freak!"

Getting shooed away, he whines, unsure of what he did wrong. Was it bad to play with babies? His head said No.

"What is wrong with you!?"

"I-i... but.." he dosn't know what to say, tries to explain that he didn't do anything bad and that he was sorry but she dosn't seem to care about his words. This is New York afterall. Kids are stolen all the time here.

The yelling, of course, makes Logan think "Great some idiot made the baby cry," only to pause and wonder where Wade went. "OH SHIT that's MY idiot." He thinks and instantly becomes protective, growling as he gives in and throws the extra money at the tiller. Coming outside, he steps in front of Wade. Sure, Wade is a weirdo, but he wouldn't do anything to the baby. Right??

"What's your deal lady!?"

"He tried to take my son!!" She says, assuming the worst.

Logan gives a glance to Wade, who's already crying and shakes his head, unable to get any words out, but "I'm good!" Seeing as various times today, Logan has praised him for behaving. "You're being so good today, kid."

"No he didn't! Now take your ugly pup and get!"

A bit more of arguing, and she finally goes on her way, complaining about New York Weirdos.

After that, he starts asking Wade why he was touching a random baby and honestly just running his mouth that he knows better and shouldn't do that, etc.

Almost instantly, it stops, though, because he's already crying. He lets out this huge sigh. "Fine... Im sorry.. I know you like babies. How about I give you a baby. Would you like that?"

Logan doesn't mean it in the way Wade thinks, obviously, as his eyes widden, sniffling. "You're gonna give me a baby!?"

"Yeah, sure-"

"We're gonna have a baby!!!??"

"WAIT- No! Not like that!"

He squeals and excitedly flaps his hands, continuing to go on about how 'Mommy tried to give him a baby, but it didn't work'

Slapping his hand over his face, he's so embarrassed, blushing all the way down his neck and up his ears. He shakes his head and growls. "SHHH!!! That's not what I meant!! We can't even have a baby moron!" I mean, who wouldn't be embarrassed about their partner OPENLY talking about their past relations in public?

So- He does what every person does when their partner is obsessed with babies by can't have any.

He takes him to the thrift store to pick one out.

[thezombieprostitute]

The sheriff likes how you always got a pie baking in your window. He likes that every time he sees you, you got your apron on. He likes that you smile and wave at his cruiser. He likes all the way you make him shift in his seat.

The only thing he doesn't like, is that you're not waiting at home for him.

Summary: Lee has regrets to deal with and decisions to make.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Depression, Thoughts of cheating, Unhappy marriage. Please let me know if I missed any!

Lee's made a lot of decisions in his life that he regrets. He'll swear up and down that he had only the best of intentions when he signed up for the police force. When he decided to become sheriff. But no one knows better than him how far his morals have fallen.

But not being your man was the biggest regret of his life.

To become sheriff, he needed financial and social support. The kind he could get from her family. He courted her, got on her father's good side, eventually marrying her. He honestly thought that's all love was, that that was the purpose of a marriage. Now he's got all the resources he needs to keep his position, barring his sister royally fucking things up for him.

But then he met you.

Him and his little family were making an appearance at the local auction to raise money for the church. People brought a bunch of homemade goods and foods. Sometimes it was simply pine cone crafts that really did look pretty. Other times it was Granny Russell's special chicken livers. Lee always thought only an idiot would turn down that specialty.

But then you showed up, with a stack of pies.

You were something to look at, Lee was sure no one could deny that. But you were also so sweet. He was certain your kindness, patience, couldn't be real. No one was that sweet all the time. You were too new to the town for him to really know well, but given how the people who did know you reacted, he could imagine you were worth knowing. He made sure to buy one of the pies you'd brought, intent to use it as an ice breaker. He'd figure out your angle, how you could play so nice.

But when he looked into your eyes, he was a goner.

He's never seen such beautiful, kind eyes. He swears they were sparkling. For the first time in his life, Lee was tongue-tied. His wife had to subtly elbow him in the ribs to stop his staring. He definitely got an earful that night before sleeping on the couch. The entire time you were talking to his wife, his kids, he felt at a loss. Like there was something more to life than status. His wife set him straight, though.

But he kept seeing you around town and the feelings kept coming back.

You were always busy with your baking. Always kind to everyone. Always waving at him and smiling. He feels in his bones that you should be his. That you could give him the actual warmth that storybooks about love had promised. Not the performative care that he and his wife did for each other. You'd genuinely enjoy spending time with him, with the kids. Not complaining about a "life wasted" like his wife.

But cheating or worse, a divorce, would kill his election odds.

Every day he can't be with you hurts him. He takes up drinking to try to ease his misery until his wife dumps all of his bottles, citing the upcoming election. The people aren't gonna vote for an angry drunk. Lee thanks her, honestly thanks her, and it catches her off guard. If he can't have you, he's gonna try to do better by his own wife. Maybe it'll help ease the pain of not having you and your natural sweetness in his life.

But then Hal Carter comes to town.

He's a tramp, everyone knows it. He's a drifter working in different towns as he tries getting to some friends of his further south. He claims to have a college degree but Lee doesn't want to believe it. Hal is young, strong and, according to all the old ladies at the church, very helpful. Everything Lee is not. Hal hasn't stopped showering you with attention, attention Lee knows you deserve.

But it should be Lee making you happy.

Holy wah, that got away from me! This was not supposed to go on so long!

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Hi dear I hope you're doing well and I was hoping if you can do the whole greaser gang with a s/o that's like Fiona Gallagher from the show shameless? Like she's taking care of her six siblings and her dad who's usually at the bar or passed out somewhere. Their mother ran out and is mentally ill so their s/o is left to be her siblings mother/father/ and nurse fill free to ignore if you want to do and I hope you have a good day!

Summary: The Outsider x Fiona Gallagher!Reader Warnings:mentions of absent mother, drinking, very toxic adult behavior, dysfunctional family Author's Note: gonna be busy tmrw and weekend again, ill try and post 1 fic per day but no promises.

PONYBOY CURTIS

Ponyboy doesn’t really live in a dysfunctional family, yes his home life is tough but Darry loves him and tries his best and pony knows that

However, pony cant mentally put himself in Darry’s shoes of having no-one to lean on and having to take care of many siblings

When he first met you, he was absolutely smitten. And when you told him of your problems, he thought you were the toughest chick in town

He often asks Darry what to do to take a couple of burdens off your shoulder. He applies it to you and also at home, you’ve made him a better person.

JOHNNY CADE

Has a dysfunctional family and can understand, to an extent..he still gets fed sometimes and doesn’t have to work to stay in his home

But he doesn’t have a hard time adjusting to you.

He’s very open and loves your siblings, so he tries to take them out as many times as possible to give you some rest.

He genuinely doesnt understand how your parents could have left you doing all this by yourself when you’re such a perfect girl.

SODAPOP CURTIS

Soda admires you like you’re a work of art. 

He takes everything into consideration, for example, if he wants to take you on a date he’ll invite some of the gang members to hang out with your siblings and keep them away

Never asks you for anything, not to rant, vent or anything. He feels as if his problems could never measure up to yours so his whole world revolves around you.

Tries to spend as much of his money as possible to get you nice things and spoil you.

STEVE RANDLE

Steve understands how tough it is for you mentally. He’ll often stop by your place with something for you, like a box of chocolates or something. 

Whenever he’s over, he makes an effort to get to know and play with your siblings, he even was going to introduce himself to your dad. You convinced him it was a bad idea so he didnt.

He makes it known that you can tell him anything, literally anything, and he’d listen. He also wants you to know that you can call him anytime and he’d come for you.

Reassures you that he won’t ever leave you, that you’re special and he’s madly in love with you.

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Two-Bit has some kid experience so he tries his hardest to keep your siblings company and even brings his sisters for ‘playdates’

Really enjoys spending time with you and would even do the chores around the house with you to keep talking with you.

He’s not very good at comforting people and he tries to make up for it by using his humor. You get where he’s coming from and it often helps a lot actually.

Tries his best to look nice for you when he comes over, he wants you to know he’s not a washed up nobody like your parents and wants to be a rolemodel to your siblings.

DARRY CURTIS

Often tells you that you’re perfect and that your siblings will grow so much better with you as their ‘parent’. He once made you cry because of what he said and he just held you in his arms while you sobbed.

He can sort of relate to what you’re going through but his is not as extreme as yours. 

Whenever he can he drops by to help you. Date night consists of making dinner for your siblings, washing the dishes and having a late night dinner together after you put your siblings to bed.

He knows you'd make a perfect wife since he’s old enough to marry, just waiting on the right time to pop the question.

DALLAS WINSTON

Dallas is insensitive and rude to you. He knows what you’re going through, he just doesn’t care.

However, once you caught him putting on a bandaid for your younger brother. He wasn’t kind about it, saying things like “can’t you do this yourself?” but he still did it.

He knows you saw it and thinks that hanging around your house and helping you with chores and siblings will keep you quiet about it

He doesn’t like kids, but he tolerates them for his reputation, and because you’re growing on him.

[doberbutts]

We have a little free pantry in our front yard (toothbrushes, tampons, shelf-stable snacks bottled water, etc.), and I read a lot about people's experiences having one online before we put ours up re: expectations about potential interactions with people using it, but nothing prepared me for how weirdly aggro *other* people sometimes get about us having it as a form of "activism" as opposed to some other, more nebulous idea of broader social change. "Don't you think it'd be better to volunteer at or donate money to a homeless shelter, so those people can get the actual help they need?" "Shouldn't you focus more on trying to campaign for policy changes that will help more people than one street corner if you care about this problem?" "Isn't doing that a waste of time?" "Aren't you just encouraging people not to get help?" I do that other stuff when I can. This is something small I can do - in addition to raising awareness and fighting for bigger change, when I have the time and money and spoons - and at least, when I don't. It's crazy to me to approach social justice issues with such an all-or-nothing mindset as some people seem to. I've met enough of the individuals who utilize it to know it makes a difference in a very tangible way for the people directly around me.

No, I agree entirely.

Corny and dated as it is, there's a reason the saying is "be the change you want to see". If no one within the community puts in the work to fix the community's problems, even in little bits and pieces, then how will anything change? Raising awareness only goes so far. What happens when all anyone is, is aware? Aware, and still doing nothing, waiting for someone else to put in the work.

Sometimes, that someone is going to need to be you. You can't just wait around and wait for someone else to do it for you.

If I see someone digging through the trash for food, I wave them over and offer them food from my house or fresh food from a store or take them to a restaurant where they can order whatever they want. If I'm getting groceries and I see someone very obviously homeless struggling to pay for their food, I tell the cashier to add it to my bill. No one starves in front of me. Ever since I stopped needing to rely on food stamps, no one starves in front of me.

This past summer I saw someone splayed out on the sidewalk in 95F weather in direct sunlight. I couldn't tell if he was unconscious from drugs or passed out from the heat or just simply had fallen asleep in the shade and then the sun moved. I was getting groceries so I added a bunch of hot chicken to my order plus several bottles of refrigerated water. I went over to him and woke him and explained that I was worried he needed medical attention. He'd passed out because he was tired, he told me. I offered him the hot food and the water and he thanked me, telling me he'd run out of water the night before and food the day before that and didn't have any money to get any more.

Everyone else had been walking around him like he was just an obstacle on the sidewalk. No one had thought to offer any help. When I walked away, some folks who saw me told me that that was very nice of me. I don't think it was nice of me. I think that's just what you should do if you see someone obviously in distress. They agreed that he seemed like he needed the help. They didn't act. They agreed that the compassionate and right thing to do was to offer assistance and make sure he was okay. But they didn't do it. They waited for someone else to do it.

I've mentioned in passing that I volunteer for the local teen LGBT club, helping lost gay kids find their way and maybe not kill themselves about it. It's not much. I mostly just text back and forth with whatever kids get my number from the adults that run the thing. Sometimes I give them tips and advice. Sometimes I'm just the cool gay uncle they tell about their latest school drama. Once or twice I've served one of them lunch on my couch while my dogs smother them with affection and they cry about their latest heartbreak. I don't do speeches or history lessons or anything like that. I don't think I'm qualified for it, in honesty. But if even one of them doesn't commit suicide, if even one of them doesn't self-harm, if even one of them no longer feels all alone in the world because I'm there when they reach out to me, that's enough.

Today on my commute to work, the guy in front of me had a major wipeout on his motorcycle. I stopped my car in a position that none of the other cars could hit him, and asked if he was okay, and waited until his friend (also on a motorcycle) had circled back around to help him off the road and check him over. I left once his friend waved me away. I offered to call an ambulance but he refused.

A couple weeks ago, also on my commute, a woman was stopped on the side of the road, waving her arms at drivers, shouting for help. I stopped. The other drivers didn't. Her car had died, she was new to town, and she was somewhere that notoriously doesn't get cell service. I helped her call a tow truck. It wasn't a trap. She didn't want to hitchhike. She just was stuck and panicked about it.

I stop and help animals get off the road. I've lost count on how many turtles I've carried to the other side. I helped my neighbor search for a dog he saw get hit by a car so he could take it to the vet. I shoveled my elderly neighbor's driveway for her, and talked my boss into giving her a major discount for her little dog's dental in which pretty much every tooth needed extraction or he would die. When I still lived in that rental with my roommates, we were surrounded by kids. Every kid on the block knew we were a safe house to go to. If they needed food or water, if they needed entertainment, if they needed just somewhere to be, they could be at our place. When covid started, I did a "reverse halloween" since Halloween was canceled, and I put bags of candy on every doorstep that I knew had kids inside. I've done a "neighborhood santa" putting a small toy plus a small gift card for the parents on every doorstep that has kids, for as long as I've lived around kids.

When I say activism requires action, I don't mean that every single person is required to save a thousand lives. The honest answer is, unless you have a lot of disposable time and money, you probably won't. But you can still make a difference. To one. To ten. To twenty.

And you know what? I'm not saying black people specifically came up with this- but how can you be surprised to know this is how I live my life when I say over and over that I was raised by black activists who lived during MLK Jr and Malcolm X and knew community action would have the longest-lasting effects? Of course I do all this. That's what being part of a community *is*.

[munsonluhvr]

STEVE HARRINGTON'S ♡ LOVE GUIDE ♡

content: how steve would act when he has a crush or is beginning to date someone! sfw! word count - 547

notes: I swear steve would be the *best* boyfriend.

⟡ what it's like for steve to have a crush ⟡

steve is bold as hell when he has a crush, making his feelings well known. he has no problem flirting with you, rarely getting flustered while he talks to you. he's a smooth guy, genuinely too, as he woos you with compliments. you are amused by his confidence, liking how he comes off more adult then the other boys at Hawkin's who can't even make eye contact.

to further show his interest in you, he'll call your house, questioning you on how your day went, or sometimes just to say goodnight, while he lays on his bed, phone nestled between his ear and shoulder, as he listens to the soft hum of your voice.

when steve has a crush, he'll always make sure he looks good, becoming slightly self-absorbed, as he makes sure his hair and clothes are nicely presented.

steve will also think about his crush all. the. time. and wonder if you're thinking of him too. he talks about his crush constantly, annoying the hell out of his friends robin and dustin. he'll ramble about you, wondering if you have feelings for him too, while his friends listen, their chin resting in the palm of their hand, eyes beginning to close, as they listen, and listen, to steve talk about you.

⟡ what it's like for steve to date someone ⟡

steve is such a golden retriever of a boyfriend. steve is so caring, such a sweetheart, as he takes care with his new title ‘boyfriend.’ his girlfriend is lucky, always pampered by steve.

steve loves to spoil his gf, working tirelessly at scoops ahoy to save money to take gf to get her nails done, take her shopping or take her on a date to the movies. steve loves to buy you things, teddy bears, flowers, or chocolates, showing his love language - gift giving. whatever his gf wants, steve will buy for her. such a simp.

steve’s nicknames for you are darling, baby, dollface and princess; each one replacing your name and steve uses them so often to the point where his friends jokingly call you those nicknames.

steve is very forward, moving through his relationship quickly; he falls in love so easy with you. steve was quick to introduce you to his parents, bringing you over to his house constantly to show that he’s serious about dating you. he often will talk about marrying you or having children with you so nonchalantly. he’ll breeze right over the comments he makes: “when we get married..” or “when we have kids…” and hope that you react positively. steve can see marrying you in a few years, perhaps after you finish college or when he saves up some money. either way he wants you to get used to the idea.

steve is very affectionate, taking any opportunity to put his hands on you or kiss you deeply for hours on end. he’s a gentlemen of course, often letting you take the lead on what physical activities you get up to. he loves you and finds you beautiful. although he makes it clear he’s not only focused on being physically intimate with you, he does like to show how attracted he is to you.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

can you give me a quick bio on ghost…his personality, how you view him canon and what not

Ghost headcanons

Ghost doesn't wear a mask in public. It's easier to maintain his anonymity that way because a skull mask/balaclava would only draw more attention. The only instances he might wear it in a public place would be if he's with people he doesn't wish to get linked to/associated with (like in the famous scene where he's at a bar with Laswell & co)

He doesn't have a home, not even a rental flat. He stays at the base, stays at motels, hotels, b&bs when he's in England. Partly because having anything stable in his life is dangerous, partly because his attachment issues are so severe that even owning a place will make him feel uncomfortable. Returning to the same, dusty place with only a tv and a fridge to keep him company is depressing.

He never visits Manchester. Too many sour memories and too many people who might still recognize him when he's supposed to be dead. There's no one there left to visit either, save for a few old friends who he can't keep in contact with because he wants to protect them.

He hasn't dated since he was 20-something. He doesn't want to take the risk of losing his loved ones ever again. He's had a few one night stands but disappears before dawn, hating the man he has to be in order to protect those who might otherwise steal their way into his heart.

He's considered using escort services instead, but even the thought leaves a foul taste in his mouth because of his childhood memories and the things his father did to women. He goes to strip clubs sometimes when he has a weak moment, drinks one whiskey and then goes to his motel room and jerks himself off, feeling lousy and even more depressed afterward.

If we ignore this man's attachment issues and complex trauma and imagine he would settle into a situationship or even a relationship:

Ghost is not mean, brutal or abusive. In bed or in any non-work related circumstances (Ghost would say he's not brutal or mean at work either: he's just efficient.) He can be rough if you want and even enjoys manhandling you a little, but he would have a hard time degrading you. He's a soft dom and a service top through and through and quite the gentleman at heart.

He has a lot of money. He's not a spender and has no kids so the pile of wealth he's accumulated over the years is quite enormous. He will spend his money on you though, take you out to dinner, buy you anything you need. He does it so willingly and effortlessly that you soon get a feeling that he's your sugar daddy or at least would want to be. He pays your electricity bill if he finds it on your table and sees it's overdue, doesn't even bother to ask for your permission. And oh, do you need a gorgeous dress for some occasion? Let him buy it for you. You need a car? Sure, no problem at all.

He's paranoid to the point of not telling you when he's about to visit you. He just pops on your doorstep, looking dog-tired and ten years older than he really is. The only thing he leaves in your apartment is a toothbrush and perhaps one of his sweatshirts (if you ask nicely.)

He seems to have a sixth sense, and is very superstitious. He thinks telling you he loves you is a perfect way to attract malevolent attention and bad luck upon himself, so he refrains from being verbal about how he truly feels. You think he's indifferent, that you're just a shag for this man, but in truth he's dedicated and devoted to you and sees no one else but you, thinks about you at work so much so that he already calls you a distraction in his mind. It's dangerous, his feelings are already bringing him bad luck, and so the cycle of silence continues…

He's an incredible hacker but uses old, foolproof technology to avoid being traced. You can never call him, he always calls you. If he even calls.

He's not a drinker and doesn't like to see you drinking either. He absolutely, vehemently hates drugs.

He's embarrassed about it but he has read like 5 novels in his lifetime. All other books have been non-fiction, manuals and the like. He says he hasn't got the time to read.

He loves to see you in ultra feminine underwear. Lace, stay ups, suspenders: he loves to undress you like you're a delicately wrapped Christmas present just for him.

He loves to eat pussy. He would eat you all day, every day, for the rest of his life if he could. He especially loves it when you ride his face and he gets to feel how your thighs start to tremble next to his face.

He loves missionary. Loves loves loves to spread you open and spread his religion. You even joke about it: that his ass is so fit because he fucks you so much, and he only smiles to himself because it's true.

Ghost wants kids, but would he ever tell you that? No. He never tells you anything. You know nothing of this man, not even his favorite movie or his favorite color (which is not black, btw).

He has a terrible praise kink. He loves praising you, teasing you, making you flustered while he's inside you – but if you ever tell him he's big? He's good? That you like it when he smiles? His brain goes full error. He fucks up the rhythm of his thrusts and has to gather his breath. (Then he ups the stakes and praises you even more. Because he also has to win. Always.)

If you ever tell him you miss him, that you can't sleep without him… He disappears for weeks. Then he suddenly comes back, more touch starved and desperate than ever. Your words have gone under his skin whether he likes it or not. You can't even tell whether he's fucking you or making love to you, but you're left feeling like you just got hit by the most loving, gentle bus. There's no explanation, and it's futile to try and pry what's gone into him. But just before you fall asleep, he ghosts his fingers down your arm and whispers: "Pet… I missed you too."

[tales-of-wocdes]

🥺<- my mc’s expression after unknowingly committing petty crimes and getting into mischief

Well... in MC's defense there is no way they know what exactly is considered a crime.... They might not have any idea of what a crime is :D This is not a huge issue inside the orphanage...

Outside of it? Well, assuming a snack theme once again... and for 7k browser plays, it could go something like this:

-----------------------

"Young one, might I have a moment of your time." A gravelly voice calls out to you.

You turn to look behind you, then look up. And up. He is huge! And has wings with feathers! How do they come out from his armor? Wait... armor?

You stare up at the old man, in armor that looks much like Lexia's but is much darker. Grey? You think the word is grey.

You are still munching on the pastry you took from one of the little stalls as you stare at the stranger... Is he nice? What if he is not? Maybe you should not have snuck off.... Lexia or Havard would sure be nice to have right about now. What if the man is mean? Is he a grandpa too? He's old so he must be.

"I am Odwin, A Grey Protector Of Firgrat. Did you perhaps pass by Dusk passage since mid-day?"

You stare. A Grey Protector? Is that anything like a Silver Protector? That makes you feel a bit better. A Protector is a Protector! No matter the color. You hope.

What is dusk passage? Your internal sense thinks dusk has something to with sunset? It was not very dark there? Maybe because it was daytime? Does the sun set there later?

Your confusion must show on your face. Not all of it but what he assumes is a understandable level of confusion.

"It is a street, a street with lots of stalls selling all sorts of street food. Also contains the Cracked Cup inn." The old man sounds calm. Used to explaining things.

You have no idea what an inn is, or why they have cracked cups... but you did pass though a place with tons of tasty things. You ate so many! And then got some milk! It was such a nice place. Was that this dusk thing? You could have been there. Or elsewhere.

You give a very elaborate shrug. Could have been where you were or not.

"Kid, there you are. Havard is worried. Why did you sneak off?"

You turn to see Lexia walking towards you.

"Where did you get a pastry?..." Lexia eyes you. Then the old man. Odwin. "Oh... A Grey Protector."

"One of the new order? A Silver Protector? Well met, I am Odwin." Odwin bows to her, then looks at you. "Then this little one is from the orphanage."

"I am Lexia." She actually bows back. "Well met, and yes to both questions. This is MC." She eyes you. She seems much more serious than usual.

"So, no easy way to ask this... did the kid steal a bunch of snacks?" Lexia asks.

Steal? What...

"It appears so." Odwin said calmly. "From six different stalls and one inn, where a child reportedly wandered into the kitchens and left with a bottle of milk."

Lexia looks at you. "Did you take a bunch of snacks off some street stalls MC?"

You are confused. What are they talking about? Stealing? But you did do that. So you nod.

Lexia bows to Odwin again.

"My deepest apologies. This one." She pats your head gently. "Does not know much of the world yet. The concept of money has not quite sunk in."

Money? The metal thingies Havard and Lexia sometimes use? What does that have to do with anything.

"We will pay for all of it, of course. Could you please help us find everyone affected, Sir? I will inform the Head Custodian and he will meet us there." Lexia seems so... responsible all of a sudden. But you are confused.

Did you do bad?

"Just Odwin. And of course." The old man says. He eyes your confused face. "I believe I understand. I know a bit about the orphanage and understand the children there can come from... varied backgrounds."

How does he know that?

"Come along you two."

Lexia does not look overly mad... but is she ever mad. She offers you her hand, and you two walk after Odwin.

"MC." Lexia says, whispers really. "Outside the orphanage, you can't just take stuff that is not yours. Not even snacks or milk." She explains. "Even someone as adorable as you needs to pay for things out here." She says, but she is smiling at you.

Still... you think you did bad. When you arrive back at the street you took the snacks from, and see the angry people talking to Havard, you realize that yes. You did indeed do something quite bad.

--------------------------------------

That... got a little out of hand :D And is a little different than other snippets :D

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), female masturbation, mentions of sex, smut (18+, dni if under 18)

summary: there’s something about bucky that she never allowed herself to fully explore. 

Sadie had always been a quiet baby, even the day he first met her. She was just there, on the entry mat of his flat, wrapped in hospital blanket, laid on her back and sleeping peacefully. He could not believe that such peace, such overwhelming purity had somehow came from him. Ever since, that remained. She was well behaved, usually being happy if someone she knew was around. She was the best thing that could’ve possibly come from him and as he laid her down in her bed, surrounded by another pile of plushies which she demanded she had to sleep next to every night, that feeling that his little girl only had him, the most imperfect person he knew, made his heart stop even if for a second. He shook those thoughts from his mind, distracting himself by pulling the comforter over his daughter and kissing her head, turning the lights off as he exited the room. This was not it. Not what he envisioned when he allowed himself the chance to think of a future where he had children. If he had allowed himself the fantasy when he was younger, he would’ve rather had a traditional home somewhere in the suburbs where everyone was sure to somehow get in his nerves but was safer. The home would be homey, walls covered in photos from a single live well lived, a wedding photo at the entry door and three jackets in the same colour but different sizes. He thought if he ever had children, he would be married to someone he loved and loved him back. Yet, he’d only allowed himself the childish notion of love towards himself to ran wild before he got into the army, before the accident. Truth was, after the accident he didn’t want a bride and he certainly didn’t want children. He wasn’t naive enough to believe himself unattractive, he knew he was, he knew he was magnetic. However, he knew the difference between magnetism, passion and love. Love and lust may go together, but they don’t arise together, not at the beginning. 

Parts of him sometimes wished things would’ve worked out with Sadie’s mother. God, he’d tried. He’d been an idiot before, begging on his knees to a woman who couldn’t care less about the child she’d abandoned on his doorstep, to please give him a chance. He had begged her to allow him to show her a nice life, even if she didn’t love him, even if she didn’t like him. Heck, he’d even attempted to pay her, just so Sadie would have a mother. Just so Sadie would know her mother. The sad truth was that Sadie’s mother didn’t want to be her mother. She didn’t even want to be reminded of Sadie’s existence except for when she needed money. For her, Sadie was an accident. Heck, for her she didn’t even know their child was even named Sadie. She didn’t care. Bucky tried to pretend he didn’t care either but he did. He wanted Sadie happy. He couldn’t be the best dad, he knew that, but he could try to give her everything. 

He popped the glass lid off the whiskey bottle on his drink cart, pouring himself a very generous glass. Maybe he should put some photos up on the walls. Yet, he doubted his interior designer would be very happy about it. 

     - Is she off for the night? - Y/N came down the stairs, dressed in her beige loungewear and carrying the single cup of tea she seemed to always have around her. He nodded, taking another sip of his drink while staring into pure nothingness. - I’m taking her to the park tomorrow morning. Playdate with one of the kids from school.

     - Where did you learn to shoot? 

     - How is that relevant to your daughter’s playdate? 

     - No one shoots that well as a first timer. - he turned to look at her. - That’s no beginners luck. That’s good shooting. 

     - My older brother used to have fun shooting cans down with BB guns when we were kids. He taught me.

     - You have a brother? 

     - How is that relevant?

     - We never actually talk, Y/N. You spend days with my kid and I don’t know much about you. I’m curious. - he sat on his couch, patting the seat next to him. - Trust me, doll. It pays off being in my good graces. 

    - Don’t care. You already pay me. - she leaned on the back of the couch, looking at him with a smug grin. - Quite handsomely, actually. 

    - Do you want a drink? 

    - I have a drink. - she rose her cup of tea. 

    - A proper drink. I have the good stuff, doll. Besides, Sadie’s asleep and your boss won’t care if you have a drink or two. - he got up, ready to pour her something. - Come on. When will you be able to drink 50 year old scotch? 

    - You have 50 year old scotch? - she peaked over to the trolley. - Is that even drinkable? Has it not developed a weird taste? Does the scotch know women have rights now? 

     - Don’t get too used to it. They cost a pretty penny. - he handed her a glass. - Worth it. 

    - How much does it cost? 

    - Just enjoy yourself. 

That was good scotch. She probably had no qualification to be deciding what was good and what was bad scotch but she was entirely sure this was good scotch. Good strong scotch and just by the second glass, the two of them were giggling like two school girls, her cup of tea long forgotten. 

   - C’mon, c’mon ... - she playfully slapped his arm. - You slept with at least one of them. They’re hot. 

   - I don’t sleep with my employees. I’m a good boss. 

   - But she’s so hot. - she hammered on. - I would sleep with her if I swung that way. Is that a rule? Only hot secretaries?

   - It’s not my fault hot people attract hot people. 

   - At least one of the mums at Sadie’s school. 

   - Nope. 

   - They’re always throwing themselves at you. Honestly, its your pick at this point. 

   - I can’t. They very respectfully throw themselves at me but they still think there’s a Mrs. Barnes. 

   - Sadie’s mum? - she almost sobered up at the thought. - Sadie’s mum has come by?

   - No, not Sadie’s mum. You. 

   - I’m not Mrs. Barnes. Do they think I’m Mrs. Barnes?

   - Wow. - he chuckled at her horrified face - Would it be such a bad thing to be Mrs. Barnes? There are worse fates.

    - You’re not my type. - she almost snorted a laugh, hiding the sight of her lips behind the hammered glass of the tumbler. 

Bucky leaned against the couch, looking her up and down without moving anything but his eyes. It was a sniper look if she’d ever seen one and although she was covered in oversized loungewear, she felt as if she stood stark naked in front of her boss. Her cheeks heated and she no longer knew if it was from the scotch in her system or from the look she was receiving from him. His motionless state changed as he moved like a feline, standing above her, close enough she could feel his breathe on her. She buried herself deeper into the couch, trying to avoid his eyes. Had his eyes always been this blue? 

     - I’m sure I could change your mind if I wanted. - he chuckled before returning to his seat. - What about you? You’re very curious about my love life, what about yours? 

     - I don’t have time. 

     - That I know. You’re always here, overtime with my daughter. Are there no postgraduate men vying for your attention? - he drank whatever was leftover of the amber liquid in the glass. 

     - I’m not that kind of girl. - she laughed, uncomfortable at the mention of her dating life. She was already ashamed of it, of what her love life looked like. There was no one tripping over themselves to date her. Perhaps it was merely because she didn’t know what it took to put oneselves out there, she didn’t like the superficiality of dating apps, somewhat still wanting a traditional meet cute, and when she wasn’t studying, she was looking after Sadie. Besides, she never was the centre of attention, so why would she be now? - I’m content. 

     - If I were 10 years younger, I’d be all over you. - he winked. - You need more time off. 

     - Who needs a boyfriend when I can be Mrs. Barnes apparently. - she rebutted, getting a laugh from him. - If apparently I am Mrs. Barnes, I think I’m gonna need a raise. 

      - You’re just making me lose out of on the chance to sleep with the school’s MILFs. You may need a pay cut, actually.

      - I think you’ve had too much too drink. Another comment like that and they won’t let you near the school. - she let herself lean against the pillow, taking him in with a very drunken mind. James Barnes was gorgeous, he’d always been gorgeous but perhaps her sober self had never allowed herself to see him like this, see him as a sexual being or have less than appropriate thoughts about her boss.

She knew he was attractive, she knew everybody wanted him even if it was for a single night. She’d heard some of it ... by accident when Sadie was at school and he thought no one was home. She didn’t think much of it but now, as he stood there in dark joggers and a way too tight white t-shirt, those noises were all she could think of. What it would feel like to hear a man like that come undone, to be the reason a man like that came undone. She wondered what his fingers would feel against supple skin, the texture of his lips and tongue. 

      - Are you alright? - his voice luckily took her out of her depraved fantasy world. She shouldn’t be thinking of this, she shouldn’t think of him like that. He’s her boss, he’s Sadie’s dad. - I’m just joking around. I am not a man whore, Y/N. 

      - I know. - she swallowed the lump in her throat. - I, I really need to get to bed or Sadie will miss her playdate tomorrow. 

      - I should be going too. Work tomorrow. 

      - Ah ... - she looked around. - I’ll wait for you to say goodnight to Sadie tomorrow then? Or do you want her to go to sleep before you arrive?

      - I’ll text you if I make it before bedtime.

      - Okay. Hum ... goodnight, Sergeant Barnes.

(...)

It was official. She was depraved. 

The 50 year old scotch made her a depraved individual. That had to be the reason she was twisting and turning around in her bed, her sheets no longer smooth instead tangled between her legs as her mind wandered further into the sexuality that her boss exuded. He was stuck in her mind, from the way his lips grazed the glass to how close he’d been to her. He’d been so close to her, close enough she could’ve kissed him if she wanted to. She was sure he was a good kisser. He looked like he was a good kisser. 

She turned around of more, staring at the ceiling, trying to find something remotely interesting in the wide white of the ceiling. Instead, she wondered about what he was doing in his bedroom. She wondered if he was restless too, perhaps finding something more interesting to do with his time and like an annoying radio song, those moans were back in her memory. God, she wondered if he needed a woman with him to make those sounds. Wondered if he laid down at night, fantasising about the perfect woman, tugging at his cock. Oh god ...

     - Stop it. - she mumbled to herself but that image was now stuck in her mind. The idea of his lips parted as he jerked off, moans leaving his mouth like any other fantasy. 

That heat was back to her cheeks as her hand shyly descended, from her side to the hem of her shorts. She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t and perhaps if she were sober she wouldn’t be doing it but at the mere memory of him, all inhibitions were out the window and her hand went under the shorts and her underwear. She reached between the heat in her legs, finding to no surprise that her colourful imagination made her wet. She let herself imagine what it would be like for him to touch her as she lazily circled her clit with her fingers, her other hand toying with her hardened nipple. 

She could almost hear his voice in that state, whispering dirty words into her ear as she thrust a finger into her wanting heat, her palm rubbing against her bundle of nerves as she slowly fucked herself. She wondered if he’d put his hand around her throat, calling her all sorts of things and moaning against her ear. 

    - Sergeant Barnes ... - she moaned to herself, her head trashing around her pillow as she bit the fabric trying to suppress any noise from coming out. 

She was done for, so done for. 

(...)

     - Oh my god! - she shrieked as she stepped away from the tub, receiving yet another splash of water which instead of ending up on the floor, hit her directly across her front. 

The bathroom was steamed from the heat of the water, most of which now laid on the ground in puddles or soaked into her clothing. This never happened, or at least it didn’t usually happen. That’s what she gets for bathing an overexcited toddler. She looked down on herself, sighing before picking up the only dry towel in the bathroom and pulling Sadie out the bath before she turned the bathroom into her own private pool. She already had one of those, she didn’t need two. 

     - You’re gonna have to help me mop, huh? - she told the 2 year old as she dried her off and helped her into dry, clean pyjamas. - We can’t splash in the bath.

     - Fun! - she merely replied with that smile that almost made her forgive everything. Almost.

She picked Sadie up, leaning her against her hip so she wouldn't trip on the wet tilled floor. That’s just what she needed for tonight, to spend it all moping the floors of the bathroom. Yet right now all she needed was to get Sadie fed and calm before she created any more danger. She would change after. It was just the two of them tonight and Bucky hadn’t shown any signs of showing up before bedtime which gave her plenty of time to get her ducks in a row. 

At least that’s what she had thought until she stepped right into Bucky’s track as she made her way to the kitchen. Bucky stood there, almost made of stone as he took in what stood in front of him. His daughter was happily giggling, speaking about her playdate while Y/N was soaking wet, from head to toe. It was almost as if she wasn't wearing a shirt. The thin white material transparent and clinging to the pebbled nipples and outline of her breasts and if that wasn't enough, the wet white shorts gave him a front view of her red underwear. 

He’d never felt like a perverted old man until now. Until the sight of this woman soaking wet made him wonder what she would look like completely naked. Suddenly, his trousers felt tighter around his crotch and he had to turn his head away. This was his child’s mother ... shit, his child’s babysitter. Whatever. This was inappropriate. 

    - I’m sorry. She splashed the whole bathroom.

What was he supposed to reply? He couldn’t look the woman in the eye without getting hard. Instead, he grabbed his daughter from her, taking a few steps back. A few which looked like a mile away. 

     - You may want to change, Y/N. - he cleared his throat. 

     - Oh ... - she looked down herself. Great. Now she was having inappropriate thoughts about her boss and prancing around in see through clothing. - I’m so sorry.

    - Just go, Y/N. - he motioned towards the stairs, turning around to face the other side as she climbed up the stairs and away from his sight. Great, he was a perverted old man now. 

     - Daddy, you’re red. - Sadie piped up as he sat her down in her chair. - Angry?

    - No, Sadie. I’m not angry. 

    - Sorry. - she apologised. 

    - Just don’t splash Miss Y/N, yeah? Makes things complicated for daddy.