#i am so far gone for this disaster man

[quinnnfabrgay-writes]

wip wednesday

thank you so much for the tag @almostfoxglove 🥰

my period came a week early and has drained me of all my energy, but i am slowly and painstakingly making progress on a few things

since my mood swings have been all over the place, here are a few different pieces that are also all over the place lol (you can all blame @sp00kymulderr for the dieter obsession 🫣 he has quite literally taken over all my thots)

what it means to burn - dieter x actress!reader

“You deserve it more than anyone I know.” He drops one of your hands to softly cup your chin, his thumb brushing across your skin. “Mi estrella brillante.”

Your stomach drops as you try to remind yourself it’s nothing more than a friendly gesture. But Dieter apparently wasn't finished tormenting your lovesick soul. Before you have time to comprehend what's happening, he leans forward and drops his lips to your forehead, your chin still in his hand.

It had to have been only a brief few seconds, but to you that moment was frozen in time.

untitled dieter non-con piece - dieter x f!reader

you notice the corners of his mouth tick up slightly, a low chuckle vibrating from his throat, before he grabs a couple of pills from a bag in the pile. he stands, making his way to the mini fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water before turning and heading towards you. he holds out both the pills and water for you to take, confusion getting the better of you

“oh, that's sweet of you, but i was just going to take them at my place”

Dieter shakes his head slightly, “‘fraid i can't let you do that, can't take this shit unsupervised, i wouldn't feel right letting you go off on your own.”

“oh, u-um, do you have anything i could just take home with me then?” it's not that you don't trust him, but you can't ignore this feeling starting to take form in the pit of your stomach, a heavy weight triggering your fight or flight - unfortunately you were always one to freeze and fawn

no misbehavin' - sub!dieter x mommy domme!reader

He has a strong feeling that it's just you trying to respect that he's had a very grueling couple of weeks full of non-stop interviews, photo shoots, table reads, costume fittings, the list goes on. At first he was grateful you were more gentle with him, more sensual and comforting without him having to ask. But now there's this irritating, itchy feeling burning beneath his skin, begging to be scratched– or bit, or paddled, or whipped, or flogged– soothing his nerves in the way only you can.

He has a feeling you could tell he needed more from you tonight, that had to be why you finally started toying with him again– making him wear a cock ring and a plug, edging him all night, bringing him up to the precipice of pleasure with your hands, your tits, your mouth only to pull back at the last second, bringing him back down.

The Last Five Years - dieter x ofc Sawyer

This is it. It’s actually over. He finally took deliberate action in their relationship, and this is what he’s decided on. Sawyer sits at the dining table, slouched back in her seat, eyes glazed over with unshed tears as she stares at the current source of her despair: divorce papers already signed and initialed by her husband, soon-to-be ex-husband, Dieter Bravo. The blank spot left for her signature taunts her every time her eyes scan the papers. Dieter’s decided it’s time to move on; he’s got new dreams he’s building upon.

And I’m still hurting.

(any "the last 5 year" fans in the pedro fandom??? i won't be posting this series until i have it at least half written, but surprise!)

npt: @perotovar @sp00kymulderr @guiltyasdave @bitchesuntitled @syd-djarin @djarins-cyare @covetyou @chronically-ghosted @ozarkthedog @for-a-longlongtime @sizzlingcloudmentality @whocaresstillthelouvre @crowandmousewritingco @ghostofaboy @max--phillips @yopossum

[kinokkotsu]

“Don’t js sit there and wait 4 me to talk,”ᶻz ⟢— yuta okkotsu x reader

TW: the reader is severely traumatized, the reader lost her loved ones during shibuya incident, HEAVY angst, love confession, fluff, THE AFTERMATHS OF JJK MANGA ENDING, MANGA SPOILERS!! Yuta has lost it too btw ୨୧

“Aren’t you tired?” You looked up from your hot dinner. “You had just returned from eliminating a special grade.”

The dining table was piled with various kinds of foods. The room reeked of unrequited love and affection. It almost made you want to melt into the ground out of shame.

“Tired? This is just a simple dinner. You deserve it. So sit back, relax and enjoy your evening,” Okkotsu gave you a gentle smile. He was sitting in his chair so elegantly. As if he was a doll for display.

You lazily swung your fork around the small chop of meat on your plate. It was regarded as impolite to play with your food at the table yet you could not help it. Whatever act he was putting up was rather exaggerated and nerve wrecking.

“I think I remember telling you to stay away from my house,” you muttered. Your voice came out like a whisper. You did not dare to look at him but you could sense his gaze burning down on your face.

He breathed out a laugh. “Did you?”

“I sure did.” You put the fork in your mouth. “I am no longer a part of the jujutsu society anymore. Why do you still insisting on clinging onto me?”

“Forgive me then,” He replied. He poured himself a glass of water and gulped it down. He had just dodged your question. Great.

It hadn’t been long since your partner, who you had been in a committed relationship, died during whatever that was. Ever since the disasters occurred within jujutsu society. You would never believe you could easily love somebody as easily again. You suppose you do not genuinely had the strength to.

You glanced at his abdomen. Behind the linen cloth of his shirt laid a dark giant horizontal scar that once made him almost lose his life. It’s only pure luck that had saved him from entering the death’s door.

“I once thought it is appropriate to only admire you— a undeniably strong colleague,” He broke the taunting silence, his eyes glancing away like he was thinking about something from the past. “However, now that everything had gone crumbling down and it’s only you and I left..” he smiled as his piercing eyes darted back at you again. “It feels like I have the responsibility to grasp every piece of love everyone else had for you.”

He dragged his finger, circling on the soft mattress of the table. “And finally form something full, something complete.”

You winced at his words. He knew you couldn’t handle this sort of conversation yet he dared utter those words like he wanted to let his friends die from the start.

Had he finally lost it?

Of course it was going to turn out like that for him as well. Everyone left the both of you in this grey world. Despite the other survivors remaining, you and him were like two small connected puzzle pieces lying far from the other pieces.

It was not the same. It will never be the same.

Everything hasn’t been okay since you stepped out of that butcher hole. It was beyond petrifying. It was traumatic for both parties. And yet he had the audacity to act like those deaths of his beloved ones had not fazed his delicate little soul. It was as though he was not quite as disheveled as you were.

“I can’t return the favor,” you dropped your spoon next to the plate. “Look, I don’t even believe I have the ability to form a proper relationship again.” your voice trembled. “I am really, extremely sorry so can you please just stop seeing me agai-.”

“I can,” He smiled. His body leaned against the table. “but you must promise me something.”

“You must tell me what it is, first or I will not be confined to it.” You stared into his wet eyes. Despite the goodie-two-shoes look on his face, you could sense the heavy burden of the man who was once the second strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world.

"In the future, if you ever find yourself in the position to love somebody again,” He smiled softly. “let it be me.” Somewhere along that sentence, you heard his voice shook.

Your breath became unstable. Is he stupid? Your ability to love was lacking because you had become too afraid to dedicate your heart again. Therefore this ridiculous fantasy he had was never likely to happen.

What is giving him the strength to be so desperate?

You pressed down both your hands into the table mattress. “Why must you be so stubborn? Don’t you get it? We are both at the edge of turning insane! What gives you the illusio-”

“I love you,” Yuta confessed, “I learned to appreciate you even more given the circumstances. I wish to adore every part of you while I remain alive.”

You felt like something clicked within you.

You realised that you had taken the negativity out of the situation whereas this man before you learn to cope with it in a more meaningful way. Had he always been like this?

The familiar old smile appeared in your memory and you confirmed that. He’d always been like this.

You inhaled as you built up every courage to breathe out. “You were already adored by many including me.” You said, shaken by the pain of the loss of your old boyfriend. “But I..promise you I will not dodge my feelings for you if I were to discover myself again.”

“Good.” He gave you a toothy grin. The one that you hadn’t seen for possibly years. “We will be alright, [Name].” He took your cold hands with his warm ones. “You and I, together, will go through this.”

Your heart ached at the look of his thrilled face. Can you really be hopeful about this? It should not possibly be happening sooner or later but maybe if you just stand strong and get up again, both of you get to live a happy life and this time, a happy ending.

“Now eat up, the food is getting cold.” He insisted before retreating his hand from yours. A small smile broke out your lips. You were almost certain that you will be having this guy in your house more often to cook meals for you.

Regarding fairness, It’s a price for asking a huge favor from you.

I saw a slideshow on tiktok about this kinda plot and I’m balling my eyes out. BTW I hope I still have my people w me.🙂‍↕️ I hadn’t posted in a long time due to assignments and stuff. I apologize deeply for that, my loves. 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘

LIKES AND REPOSTS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATIVE. as usual ‹𝟹

[rationaliity]

mine now | gallagher x f! reader ( 18 + )

ill be so real with you my dearest freaky anon i'm not the biggest fan of cheating so plspls understand that if this kinda sucks,,, im sorry, especially since you were waiting for so long for this and then i drop the most lukewarm fic of all time. i also had to change the story around so that it was something that i was comfortable writing, sorry about that ! still the basic premise, i just am not good with ntr for some reason ?? weird. who knows man. tags : drug abuse ! dubcon, dirty talking, weed & alcohol mention, female anatomy reader but its sort of nonspecific idk, pw/op, voyeurism sorta, exhibitionism sorta, coercion almost, mentions of infidelity, comfort turns into sex, possessiveness, unprotected sex, gallagher uses petnames a lot, reader being drunk & high at the same time, reader gets on call with her ex boyfriend while gallagher fucks them words: 1.8k

gallagher's hand was in your hair, your head pulled back as he pounded you so hard into the mattress it made your hip hurt a little bit from the pressure, not that it was really what you were focused on. he'd promised to make you forget your shitty ex boyfriend who'd cheated on you, and you had agreed on that without a second thought. it was originally just a drink that the two of you shared together, with you ranting about this loser to gallagher, who was all too patient with you.

one drink turned into three, and drinks turned into smoking together. being crossfaded and half focused, those little rants went on about everything that had pissed you off about that loser since the moment the relationship started to decay. everything from how he refused to flush the toilet no matter how many times you reminded him, to how tiny his dick was. gallagher had laughed at your jokes about him, and it spurred you on to keep going, laughing about that loser's tiny shrimp dick. gallagher asked if you'd ever had a dick bigger than two inches, and you shook your head. you had no idea what sex was really supposed to feel like aside from what you knew.

then he asked if you were willing to see what it was like, and you swore you'd never felt more sober than that moment right then as you hesitantly nodded. was it still going to hurt if you weren't a virgin anymore ? the answer, surprisingly, was a resounding yes ! you learned that pretty quickly as gallagher's hips pistoned into yours, his free hand grabbing the fat of your ass, his body pressed against yours so he could whisper into your ear.

" don't be shy, baby, you can let your makeup ruin my sheets. it's been ruining my shirt all night now, " he purred in your ear, his sharp canines daring to bite into the sensitive skin of your neck completely without warning. when he finally did, you made a pathetic little mewl that you weren't even aware that you could make. " a little reminder of who can fuck you better than that fuckin' pathetic loser, yeah ? gonna go to work tomorrow n show off your mark for everyone to see, yeah ? "

possessiveness was driving him, only amplified tenfold by the weed in his system. it made you both feel everything so much deeper, so both in tune with your bodies and completely disorientated at the exact same time. you couldn't feel your toes anymore, and you weren't even sure you had a tongue in your mouth you were so far gone, but you could feel every deep stroke inside of you as he thrust, and the feeling of his nails digging into the flesh of your ass.

you were a disaster. you knew you should be somewhere else. it was in three the morning, you were three drinks and several shots deep, and with enough weed in your system to kill a victorian child before they could even understand what was happening to them. but you had no idea that you needed this so much, needed to feel him so deep inside of you that it brought you to tears, stretching you so well that you thought there was no way it was going to fit. and yet his cock buried itself completely inside you each time, his tip hitting against your walls in that special spot that made you cry out.

you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, and by god you wanted to moan so loud that your neighbors could hear you. and maybe you were doing all of those things, at this point you weren't entirely sure what you were doing, other than taking his cock. gallagher was like an animal, desperate to claim every inch of you, and you were so willing to give him everything that he desired without any amount of a fight.

you heard a noise in the background, but you honestly didn't think much of it at that point. it was so unimportant, you didn't really care what it was, although you recognized the sound. " baby, your phone is ringin', you wanna answer it, or should i ? "

you made a pitiful little noise, and he took that as a perfectly valid answer, grabbing your phone and sliding it up for you. " hey, yeah ? oh, man. " you couldn't hear what was going on on the other side of the phone, but you could hear gallagher chuckle, and you swore he started to fuck you even harder now, the lewd noises of your skin slapping together undoubtedly able to be heard through the phone. " yeah, sorry you're a fuckin' loser, but they've got some new dick. thank you for keepin' them so fuckin' tight f'me. "

you don't know why your ex hadn't hung up the phone yet, but also on the other hand it made complete sense. if he had a way to argue, he was going to argue, even when all of the odds were against him, and the answer was blaring at him straight in his face. you buried your face in the pillow, trying not to make so much noise, but finding it impossible with the way gallagher was thrusting inside of you like he owned your body. and maybe he did, who knows at this point ? you just knew that you'd never felt this good, not with yourself, or any other partner.

" you wanna talk to them ? oh, man, be my fuckin' guest. i just hope you know you ain't gonna like what you hear. "

without a warning, the phone was pushed against your ear, letting you speak and say whatever you wanted to, but you couldn't find the words to say anything to him in between the moans spilling from your lips. " i-i- hh- fuck- " you whimpered, trying to think of something to say, but your mind was completely blank and filled with so many thoughts at the exact same time. there was only a brief moment of time where there wasn't anything coming from the other line, your ex so stunned that he couldn't find anything to say, but then came the barrage of insults, ones that would make you cry if you weren't being fucked so well by a man like gallagher, who was able to take your mind off of a pathetic man like your ex.

" put him on speaker, doll. let him hear you cummin' your brains out on my cock if he's so inclined. shit, i'll send him a video if he wants. whatever gets him to understand that you aren't his anymore, " gallagher growled behind you, one of his hands coming to snake around your waist, rubbing the sensitive nub between your legs with his thick, calloused thumb. you could only nod in response, sitting your phone down and turning it on speaker. you wanted him to feel horrible about everything he did to you, and you were hoping this was exactly the revenge you needed to finally get over him.

with the phone out of your hands, it was like it was entirely forgotten, especially with his finger rubbing your clit in tiny little circles. everything was building up to feel so strong inside of you, you had no idea what was happening. was it the drugs in your system making your body act up like this ? you had no idea, completely unsure what was going on. you felt this feeling in your tummy tightening as gallagher fucked you senseless, exactly like how he had promised to.

" ga-gallagher- " you whimpered out, your breath hitching in your throat. even in your fucked out state, you still managed to say something coherent, and of course it was his name. that thought only brought a satisfied grin to his face, and the older man couldn't stop himself from responding, clearly putting on a show for the person on the other end of the phone.

" what is it, my sweet ? gonna cum ? ya gonna cum on my cock like this 'nd forget all about him ? you take me so well, it's like you were made for a big, fat cock to stretch you out 'nd rearrange ya. " he was going so hard he needed to grab the headboard, his nails digging into the wood so hard that he wasn't sure if it would splinter or not, not that it even mattered. a little blood wasn't going to hurt him, and it certainly wasn't going to make him stop fucking your divine body into the perfect little cocksleeve for him. " is this your first orgasm on a cock ? you don't even know what's happenin' to ya, that's fuckin' adorable. you aint got no idea why you feel all tight down there, huh ? "

all you could do was nod helplessly against him, drooling onto the fabric of the bedsheets that was so soaked from your slick just dripping down your legs and pooling underneath you. " gonna- gonna cum, gonna cum, gallagher- pl-please- " you didn't know why you were saying please, you knew he wasn't going to stop now, not when he had a point to make of giving you the best orgasm you've ever had in your life.

" cum then, sweetie. i'll ride you through it. i'm gonna cum in this little hole of yours, okay ? you okay with that ? " you didn't give him a verbal response, just a nod of your head, but he couldn't stop himself from gently slapping your clit, making you cry out in pain, the sharpness of the sensation leaving you breathless. " say it, doll. say you want me to cum inside. you can do it, baby. "

" please- cuh-cum inside of me, gallagher- " you begged, earning you a tentative kiss on the side of your neck where he had bitten you earlier, and his finger started to rub circles around your sore clit again, perfectly timed just to make you cum.

" we're gonna cum together, okay ? let go, baby. i'm right here wi-with ya, " he couldn't stop himself from letting out a low groan, letting go of the headboard to grab your hip, dragging you on his cock as he fucked himself on you, chasing your orgasms together. with a low, animalistic growl, gallagher let go inside of you, shooting hot ropes inside of your walls as you clenched helplessly around him, the duo orgasm making you feel like you were able to blank out at any second, but you were entirely aware of your situation. he rode out the sensations with you, slowing down into gentle thrusts as he milked both of your orgasms at the same time.

when he pulled, gallagher laughed to himself, kissing the side of your neck and your nape several times as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his body against yours. " he hung up. guess we gotta call him back when we have a round two, yeah ? "

— ♡ rationaliity 2024

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Northern Attitude

Next chapter

a/n guilty... guilty... guilty... I caved in. I own up to my weaknesses. Promised myself to never write for this man and here I am now. This is my first time so be gentle. 🗡️🫧

summery: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: injuries, blood, bleeding out, alcohol, needles, death, trauma fun stuff.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You two hated each other. That was a fact, and there was no way around it. It was scowling glares, sharp jabs during training if you two were paired together, and bitter remarks thrown here and there. And the joy of it all was that Price had granted you a shared room on the base. First, the excuse was that there was simply not enough room; the team had grown. Then he said he wasn't having a team that was up on biting each other's necks out. So in conclusion, he had set it up on purpose.

Did it help? No. It was a disaster. The man was insufferable. And, in all honesty, you had no idea what you had done. You had thrown a sexist card at him multiple times because you simply couldn't find another reason for his unmeasured dissatisfaction as to why you shouldn't be here. Never had he said anything nice your way. You got it; the guy was secretive. You didn't need to look far. The fact that he never took his mask off was proof enough. But to be so against someone you didn't even spend time with?

"Clean your mess", Ghost huffed, dropping his wet towel on the bed. You lifted your head away from your book. At least you two had separate beds on the opposite sides of the room. "It's on my side", you said, pointing to the white line that Ghost had drawn on the floor like a kid the first night you dragged your stuff here. The rule was simple: you stayed on your side, he on his. The bathroom was the only exception. "Yeah, I have to look at it, don't I", he grumbled, tossing the towel into the laundry basket. You paid him no mind, your eyes turning back to the pages. "Poor you, does it mess with your posh tea time?", you chuckled under your breath, earning a growl from the other side of the room.

And that's how it went. More than not, you considered any word coming out of Ghost's mouth a win. Because a new tactic the asshole had adopted was pretending that you weren't even a thing. You were an actual ghost, and Simon didn't believe in the paranormal clearly. You fastened your vest, double-checking that your on-hand weapons were right where you wanted them. "Do you need me to do a touch-down for you?", your head darted up, only to be met with a smug-looking scot. Soap. You couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle. "Do you think that if you keep asking, the answer will eventually change?", you snickered back, shaking your head. Soap shrugged. "You tell me, bonnie?", the man teased back. Leave it to Johnny to joke around right before a mission. You hummed, "Maybe I'm more into you undoing it", Gaz snickered somewhere in the back. Soap's smirk grew even bigger. You knew that it was all good fun. Neither of them would make a move. They respected you. To most, you were like a sister. They had become your family. One you never had. Before Soap could say anything in return, the back door swung open, and in strolled Ghost. God, he looked good. Six feet of pure muscle. And when this man was in his full gear... You allowed yourself a moment to appreciate the way he looked before dropping your gaze. Suddenly, you were way more interested in the guns on the table than anything else.

Johnny came to stand next to you as the team gathered around the table. Price loved to gather everyone around before it all went off. John was like a father to most. You were no exception. You liked to tease the boys that you were his number one. His girl. And well, by law, you were. Considering that he pulled you out of the foster home, you owned this man a lot, even if he said that it was all in the past.

"You know the drill; go in, grab what you need, and get out. Try to keep it clean", Price said, pulling three sheets of paper and scattering them around on the table. "Soap and Ghost, you're together. I'll go with Gaz. Sugar, you're alone on this; we will clean the path for you, though". It was supposed to be a joke that name. You wanted something cool. Something as cool as Ghost, but Johnny was quick to remind you that his nickname was soap "And sugar", He had said, "That's quite literally white death". So it stuck.

You nodded your head, only to find Ghost shaking his. "Got something against it, LT?", you snarled. His eyes met yours over the table. With the war paint, his eyes were even more radiant. "She can't go alone. She doesn't know how to hold herself back and will do something stupid", now it was your turn to growl. Scratch the fact that you found this man attractive. You will suffocate him with a pillow in his sleep when you return to base. "Want to go with her, Ghost?", Price said calmly, knowing full well the answer would be a hard no. "We meet in the safe house afterward", Price continued without acknowledging the death glare Ghost was wearing, "Come back in one piece, you bunch". Everyone nodded quietly, reaching for the masks, double-checking the cartridges and radios. You were all climbing into the motorcar when Soap nudged your shoulder. "I'll hold you to the undressing part", he winked, hurrying to sit down. Your anger simmered down as you flipped him off in return, his laughter booming. It was Ghost, whose unimpressed eyes followed you two, gripping the gun in his hands tightly as he chose to stare ahead.

It was nothing—the mission. The base that needed to be checked out was pretty much abandoned. A couple of kills. A smoke bomb here and there. It was easy. Simple. They laid a clear path for you to do your thing. Your small frame was what they needed here. Air vents weren't the best of friends with hulky soldiers. "Do your worst, Sugar", Price had muttered into the radio some time ago. Your response was a cold, "Copy". The four of them were left to watch over the main entry points. Yet sending you into the belly of the beast felt wrong. At this point, Simon had lost count of the number of times he had reached for his radio, ready to call out to you. But he talked himself out every time.

"Got it", your voice pierced the silence. Ghost's shoulders drooped. "Good girl, bring it home", Price called back. Soap looked out of the window, "We should go meet them at the-", but his voice was cut by the cracking that came from the radio. Then it all died down. Silence. Soap locked eyes with Ghost. "Price, you copy?", Soap called out. Silence struck again. "All good here, you copy?", the captain called out. "Positive", Ghost muttered into the radio. Gunshots echoed deep within the base. It was you. The noise had to come from you. Ghost felt his heartbeat picking up. He had to find a way to get to you. To cover you. Yet the rational side of his brain screamed at him, saying that there was no way for him to do so.

The crackling filled the air around him once more as they rushed toward the spot where the team had agreed to meet. "Abort", your breathless voice came through the radio. "Get your asses out", you were panting. Ghost could hear you reloading your gun. "Sugar, what's the situation?", even Price's voice sounded more panicked. And the old man kept his cool. They all did. This whole shit could have been a setup for all they knew. Even outside, the sound of bullets pierced the silence didn't ease. Simon wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but your labored voice still twisted at his heart, "Get. Out."

The safe house had never felt so quiet. Usually, at least Soap was a never-ending chatterbox. Now the male stood in front of the window. Not moving. His eyes were glued to the forest in front of him. Price was half a bottle down on the bourbon. Gaz's leg hadn't stopped bouncing. They all had minor bruises, but that was expected.

"We need to go back", Soap said, rubbing his palms together. "You know that we can't, Johnny", Price puffed out a cloud of smoke. He was no doubt thinking of ways he was going to break the news to his wife. "She wouldn't fucking leave us", Soap snarled back. You would expect a handful of army men to be able to hold their composure in situations like this, but... You had dragged them all out of a dark pit. You were undoubtedly good at what you did, yes. But you offered much more. The safety blanket. A proper homemade meal when there was time, and that was a lot for a man who had been stuck in the base for months, missing home. There had been so much more laughter and smiles since you joined the force. As if you had breathed back humanity and a sense of life into their ice-cold bones. And now they all had to go back to...

The handle of the back door creaked. All four of them reached for their guns in unison. But no one besides them was supposed to know where the keys had been stashed. A lucky coincidence? The odds were too slim. But the door jerked open, and they all lost the breath they were holding.

"What a fucking greeting", you muttered, dropping your helmet to the side. Soap moved toward you first. Simon would have loved to beat him to it, but he found himself sitting back down, his legs suddenly feeling wobbly. "Here", you yanked the chip from your vest, pushing it into Soap's hand. "Mission complete, captain", you eyed Price. Before moving to undo your gear. "How many?", John asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. The blood on your forehead was crusted. But the sound of drops hitting the wooden floor was constant. "Six", you breathed, moving to undo your vest, and that's when the first growl left your lips.

"You're bleeding", Johnny breathed, reaching for your shoulder, but you pulled away. "I'll lick my own wounds", your tone was cold. It was colder than it usually was. Ghost watched you slowly walk towards the stairs, but not before you had reached for the Bourbon. "I'll come to stitch you,", Price had called out, only to be harshly cut off with a harsh, "No".

You locked the doors behind yourself. Your vision was going hazy. You had managed to get away. You had no idea how because there had been a moment when you were sure that death was standing right behind your back, breathing at your neck. You had killed before, had blood sprayed all over you. Yet something about this felt different. Maybe it was the fact that there was a moment where you weren't the one in control. When they had managed to yank you across the floor by your ankle. You shivered at the image of a knife being jabbed on either side of you as you dodged blow after blow.

Your hands gripped the sink. You will do this. You will patch yourself up. Swallow a couple of pills and go to sleep. You knew there was no way you were getting your shirt off, so you wasted no time as you sliced the fabric with your pocket knife, wincing. Slowly peeling the damp material from your shoulder. Would this be easier if someone else did it for you? Yes. But you didn't want anyone's hands on you. Not now. Not when your brain was still fuzzy. The trickle of blood ran down your chest and through the sports bra you had on. You knew what followed next. You've done it multiple times. Drink bourbon. Splash some on the wound. Dig the fingers in to fish for the bullet. More bourbon. Stitch it up. You ran yourself through the steps one more time. One more look in the mirror before you force yourself to do just that.

Simon's hands were gripping the chair he was sitting on. Every little whimper from upstairs ripped at his composure. Stubborn girl, never knowing how to accept help. And a whimper, a whimper he could handle, but when a loud cry filled the quiet space, Simon was up and going. Every other step was skipped, and he was right in front of the second-floor bathroom. Hand on the handle as his shoulder hit the locked door. "Open up", Ghost banged his fist into the surface. "Go away", your voice was barely audible. Too long. He had sat downstairs for too long. He should have come barging in the moment you tried to play a big girl. Should have carried you back downstairs. "Don't make it bloody difficult", Simon's voice was husky. His own body ached, but he wasn't about to sit back and watch you bleed out.

You didn't answer him. "Sugar", he called out, "Open the fucking door, or I will break it", he wasn't even sure why he was bargaining with you now. But he respected your privacy. He always did. Even in the room you shared. His face was always facing the wall when he knew you were taking a shower. Just in case you had forgotten your clothes and would need to quickly get to your side of the room, this was different; his stalling could cost you your life. So he doesn't say anything else. Backing a couple of steps back, Simon braced himself for the impact. The hinges were old, so one shove from him was enough to break them; the rest he could handle with his two hands.

Ghost's breath hitched once more. "Stubborn, bloody woman", he hissed. The floor was covered in your blood; there was not a single clean towel. Your figure was slumped by the bath. "Price", his voice was more of a roar that made even you jerk your head up. "Get out", you breathed, trying to put distance between you two. "Like fuck, I will", Simon grunted, reaching towards you, his palm pressing into your shoulder. You cried out, your nails digging into his wrists, but the pressure didn't ease. "Fucking hell", the captain called from behind, "Get her downstairs".

"No", you hissed as Ghost lifted you, "Get away". But you knew that it was over now that they'd seen you. Simon tried to lower you down, but you whizzed in pain. "From the back", you say through gritted teeth. "What?", His eyes searched yours; you knew he was struggling to understand you. "The bullet", your breath, "from the back". Simon's eyes darted up to John, who slowly nodded his head, "Keep her up, then", and you could feel him pulling the rest of your shirt off.

"Liquid courage", a bottle was dangled right in front of you, and you could just about make out Soap's shaky hands. "I don't need it", you muttered, feeling the way Simon's chest rumbled with a disapproving growl. "Don't fight it, kid", Price called out from behind you, "You know how it's done". He was looking through the medical bag, no doubt making sure that he had everything he needed on hand. You open your mouth, and Soap quickly takes the hint, tilting the bottle upwards.

"Bite this and hold onto Simon's shoulders for me", the captain delivered his words like an order, but you still shook your head. "Jesus women, do you have a death wish or something?", Ghost muttered, hands moving from your legs that were still wrapped around his torso to your hands, pulling one of them over his shoulder and the other, the injured one, across his torso, so Price could work on it easier. But your palms stay pushed away from his skin. So does your chest. He was too close. You couldn't. Simon doesn't like his personal space being occupied by anyone.

"Deep breath for me", was the only last warning John gives you before you feel a pain like no other ripping through your back. And that was all it took. All it too, for your hands to clamp around Simon. Nails were in his skin as you yelled out, trying to pull away from whatever Price was doing. Simon's big palm cupped the back of your head, guiding you down onto his shoulder. "You got this, love", he muttered against your ear. The grip he had on you did not falter, not even for a second. "Almost there, Sug, just a bit more", Price said through gritted teeth. You could feel him digging through your back. The burning icy cold now.

Your body was working on its own accord. Hand reaching for the side of Ghost's face as another wave of pain ripped through you, making you holler out. Simon didn't pull away. And maybe you were high on pain, but you could swear you felt his lips against your palm. Kissing your skin through the material of his mask. Your breathing got shallow. You wanted to pull back to look up at him. Into his eyes. At least one more time. But your body felt heavy. Your fingers gently caressed the side of his face. The smell of him calmed you. You pressed a weak kiss against his neck, feeling a shiver running down his back.

"Keep her talking, Simon,", Price grumbled in frustration. Something probably wasn't going how it was supposed to. But it was okay. You had made your peace with it. "Come on, look at me", Simon pulled your limp head away from his shoulder, tapping your cheek a couple of times. "Keep your eyes open, eh? Or I'll leave my wet towels all over our room for the rest of the month", there was a tinge of something new in his voice. Some kind of light worry. Frustration. You blinked a couple of times, the corners of your lips turning upwards. "You wouldn't dare", you rasped out, your mouth feeling way too dry all of a sudden. "Why is that?", Simon asked straight away, his eyes not leaving yours. You let yourself breathe for a bit; you didn't have enough strength to answer right away. "I'll get you pink sheets and...", a cough made your body seize, and Ghost's grip on you tightened instantly. And there. There it was. A flash of worry caught his eye. "A fuzzy rug", you finished finally. Simon's palm ran over your sweaty forehead. "I'd like to see you try, darling", he breathed out, but there was no amusement in his voice.

"She's too fucking pale, Price", you heard Soap's voice from the side, or at least it sounded like it. "Shut up, Johnny,", the captain grumbled. "Don't close your eyes, Sugar", you felt another nudge from Ghost, making you blink up at him once more. "It's cold", you muttered, feeling your hand slip down his torso, falling limp by your leg. "John", Ghost said in a warning tone. He was trying to make you hold back on him, but your hand slipped away every time.

It was the way your hand limped against Simon's face that sent the last wave of panic through him. Your clammy skin pressed against him. And he was back there, back in the house where his family was killed. No, he couldn't lose you. Not now that he had found you. Not without you knowing that he also cared, just like everyone else. "Y/N", he called out softly. He had never called you by your real name. Never had a chance to see if your eyes would shimmer when he did. "Don't do this", he breathed again your not injured shoulder, "Don't you dare fucking die on me". But he was met with nothing. Only then did he realize that he would have to live with nothing but regret and your blood on his hands. All because he couldn't find a way to let your light shine through his cold demeanor. All because he was afraid of the fact that he had found himself caring again.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Law and Order - A Once In A Blue Moon Story

Part I

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: When a blind date leads to disaster, you're almost ready to give up on men. Until he sits down on the bar stool in front of you. This man is different - sensual, gorgeous, confident. He makes you want to live a little on the wild side. What do you do when a night you don't want to forget turns into a forbidden relationship by light of day? How do you cope, especially when he doesn't seem to want a thing to do with you?

Warnings: Rough sex, illicit relationship, dom/sub overtones, toxic relationship, inbalance of power in the work place

Word Count: 5766

Author's Note: Hiya lovelies! It's been a while since I've posted a story on here. I kind of lost my muse and had to find her, and my love for writing all over again.

Thanks to @horseshoegirl @sarahsmi13s and @desert-fern for chatting with me about this story and making sure I'm handling all of the things which happen in the best way I can!

This is going to be a multi-part story. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist | Next Part

Part I

The noise washes over you in waves, inane chatter and shrieking from the velvet booths lining the walls, combined with the genteel clacking of cutlery against china in a migraine-inducing din. The bar you’re in is popular, with tables occupied from wall to wall. Normally, you’d consider yourself fortunate to be seated at one of them. There’s one reason why you’re not. Blind dates have never gone well for you. Either your dates are drab and dull, or you’ve been partnered with the worst men on the planet. Rude, boorish, vulgar, you name it, you’ve been on a date with a man bearing the unsavory trait. Tonight’s date isn’t shaping up to be any better.

You’re sitting at the tiny bar-style table playing with the wine in your glass, watching the carnelian liquid slosh as the liquid warms by the second. Your attention is completely on the droplets of wine sliding down the sides of the glass. Your date could care less. He doesn’t seem to notice your boredom or frustration. In fact, you’re not sure he’s even looked at you all night. He’s chattering about something involving stocks and bonds, the details so boring your eyes nearly roll back into your head while peering over the rim of his pint glass at every cocktail-dress-clad girl in sight. Drinks at this swanky bar were supposed to turn into dinner. You’re not sure this date is going to go that far.

Moreover, you’re not sure you want it to. You’re on this date as a favor for a friend. She’d sworn up and down that this guy was a real gem when she was setting you up with him. She’d spent days talking him up, pointing out how kind and hot he was. Sure, he hasn’t been the worst date you’ve been on. He is easy on the eyes, and nice at first impression. But he isn’t anything special. Maybe you have loftier expectations for your relationships than most. Or maybe you just want to go on a date where you can have a conversation, not be talked at in a mockery of one. In any case, you don’t find yourself too disappointed. You’re starting a new job in the morning and you should be fresh for your 8 AM orientation time - an early night would have been your preference. But your watch says it is already past 7 PM and getting later by the minute. This man can’t seriously think he’s so suave, can he? He’s been sending you alluring gazes and smug grins all night long, uncaring of your silence.

“So, whattaya say to skipping dinner and heading back to my place for the rest of the night?”

You’re not sure you heard him right. Mind churning, you sip on the wine, barely tasting the liquid. You’re not sure what he expects. Did he expect you to jump him the minute he offered? You’re resettling your mental estimation of his intellect downwards by the minute.

“I’m awfully hungry,” you demur. “Dinner sounds pretty good to me.”

“I’ve got something that’ll fill you up back at my place.”

His voice is greasy enough that you feel a little disgusted just hearing it. 

“Yeah?” You make your voice breathy like you’re a little turned on by his display. You lean forward, knowing the deep vee of your dress is showing off the slightest hint of the lace edging your bra. He smirks pompously, chest-puffing outward, eyes tipping to your exposed cleavage like iron ore to a magnet. He has the audacity to lick his lips, and while before you would have let him down gently, now you want to hit him where it hurts - his ego.

“Well, I hope you enjoy it all by yourself.” Your grin is sharp. “Like you probably have been every night for the last few years of your life.”

He looks a little like he’s been slapped, this finance bro, with his lips gawping unflatteringly.

“Do you have any idea who I am in this town?” He’s turning red under the collar, eyes bugging out.

“Nope.” You say the words flippantly, sipping on the last inch of the red wine at the bottom of your glass. You may not like the man, but he has good taste in wine.  “Nor do I care to.”

You lean in then, your off-putting grin widening across your cherry lips.

“I have no interest in getting to know a pompous, over-blown man-child who loves to flaunt their success in other people’s faces. So no. I won’t be coming home with you for a night in. I think I’d throw up if I saw the ‘something that fills me up’ you’ve got over there.”

He’s so angry, his face screws up at your words, the flush creeping up to his face.

“Bye-bye, now!”

He nearly knocks over a waitress and two fellow patrons on his way out of the door, sputtering impotently the entire way.

You’re still chuckling to yourself ten minutes later when a fresh glass of wine is set in front of you. 

“That was artfully done.” You startle a little at the words, your head whipping up so fast that your neck hurts at the sudden motion. The new man settling into the barstool before you is a cut above the gentleman you spoke to. Your face must show some confusion because he continues, “I saw you chase that guy away.”

He’s gorgeous, broad shoulders clad in a perfectly fitted suit. Every inch of his appearance screams luxury and class, from his auburn hair to his well-groomed mustache. He’s got long-fingered hands, one holding a cut crystal glass holding amber liquid, the other bearing a signet ring on the index finger as it rests on the table between you. There are eyes on him from all over the bar, and yet he doesn’t seem to notice. His whiskey eyes settle only on you like you're all he wants to see.

“Thank you.” You grin, sipping on the wine, the rich red liquid delicious on your tongue. “But it was necessary, I’m afraid.”

You nearly gag just thinking about the last words that idiot said to you before he left. At least you had the good sense to cut him off before he tried to strong-arm you into getting in bed with him.

“I kind of overheard what he said.” This stranger is smirking, confidence exuding from every pore. You’re drawn by his easy demeanor, as much as you are by his opening words. Hopefully, they’ll lead to an actual conversation. “It’s obvious he has no idea how to get to know a beautiful woman like yourself.”

“Is that so?” You lean forward again, wondering if a flash of your cleavage will take him in. But he doesn’t take the bait you’re presenting so alluringly. All he does is take off the suit jacket he's wearing, revealing the tanned vee of his neck in a white button-up shirt. You have to hide your hungry glances behind the rim of your wineglass when he rolls the sleeves up to the crook of his elbow.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’d much rather get to know you instead.” He leans forward too, and as he does, you see gold glinting from between his pecs.

“I promise I’m nothing like that idiot you chased away with your cherry-lipped smile and acid words.”

You shrug, running a finger over the rim of the glass. “I don’t know anything yet.”

He shrugs then, sipping on his drink nonchalantly. You drag your eyes up and down his person. He lets you check him out with good grace, a smirk tipping his lips up and eyes hot as they return the languid glances. “But maybe, just maybe, I’d like to.”

As he’d introduced himself to you, Bradley is a breath of fresh air. You find yourself on the edge of your seat, hanging on his every word. He’s flirty, kind, yet down-to-earth. He's a professional working in the city, loves his family and friends, and reads actual, genuine books. If only your friend had set you up with Bradley instead. Under his knowing gaze, you find yourself spilling things you’ve never told another soul. 

The crowd surges around you as the night deepens. But still, you stay, sitting on the stool, downing glass after glass of plush, rich reds and fruity, dry whites while wishing Bradley was drinking his whiskey off your lips. With each word shared, each story, the spark of attraction smoulders between the two of you. Between one trip to the bar and the next, he settles on the stool next to yours. 

If you thought he was breathtaking across the table, he's heart-stopping sitting next to you. His effect on you is worse because when he's close, you just have to look down to see the mile-long expanse of his legs, muscular thighs practically straining against the expensive wool blend of his trousers.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong, beautiful.” His eyes are searingly hot a few inches away from you. He’s got an arm wrapped around your waist, a big hand splayed just under your breasts. “But I’d very much like to take you home tonight.”

You gasp at the feeling of his breath across your lips. One inch closer, and you’d be kissing him.

“I shouldn’t.” Your voice is quiet, a little hoarse from the alcohol, nonstop chatter and laughter. “I don’t usually go home with strange men at the bar, no matter how attractive they are.”

He smiles, tipping his head to the side. His voice is a rumble as he whispers into your ear, tone wheedling, his other hand trailing down the neckline of your dress, fingers hot over the delicate skin of your chest.

“I promise if you want me to stop at any time, I will. I’ll call you a cab and send you home with my number saved in your phone as soon as you say the word.”

You’re losing your words, your arguments at his voice. All the reasons why you shouldn’t go home with a near stranger dissipate with every minute you stare into his eyes. 

“Take me home,” You gasp, sucking in greedy breaths as he plays with your necklace. You knew he was tall when he walked away to get your new drink, but when he helps you off the stool and drapes his suit jacket across your shoulders, he dwarfs you easily. You have a sneaking suspicion you may be in trouble. 

He leads you out of the bar with a steady, warm hand at the small of your back. Despite the crowded streets, a taxi shows up the minute he raises his hand, power and confidence an aura emanating from him. The taxi ride to his apartment downtown is an alcohol-fueled swirl of sensation. Your focus is split between the broad palm splayed over your bare thigh and the filthy litany spilling out of his bitten lips. He keeps the words just barely audible, a placid grin on his face every time the cab driver looks back, and you’re fighting the urge to drag him into filthy kisses the entire way. 

Would you be able to taste the whiskey on his tongue? Or would he taste like the mints, sharp and peppery with an underlying hint of sweetness he’d popped as you left? You can’t know for sure, not until you’ve finally got him behind closed doors.

And what doors they end up being. When Bradley unlocks the doors and ushers you in, your jaw drops to the floor. His living room is a gorgeous, high-ceilinged room, with walls half distressed brick and half grey-toned wood panelling. The floors are soft, sandy wood. While you very much would like to see the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining two of the four walls, complete with a rolling ladder like you’ve only ever seen on television, your eyes are drawn to the massive windows showing off the beautiful San Francisco skyline, lit up in the night.

“Your apartment is beautiful.” 

“It’s not the only thing that is.” 

You whirl around at the words, fighting the heat threatening to overtake your face. If Bradley looked practically edible languidly sprawled over the barstool, long legs brushing against yours, he looks divine standing in his living room with his bright white shirt unbuttoned to his navel.

“I-I don't usually do things like this.”

You curl an arm around your waist, hugging yourself. Standing here in the center of his cookie-cutter-perfect living room, you feel like an outsider, like the speck of lint or dust spoiling the facade. You don’t belong here. You don’t deserve to stand opposite a man this beautiful, be propositioned or devoured by him. Yet when you glance upward, his face shows you nothing but heat and hunger.

“Shh, sweetheart.” The pet-name makes you shiver, gooseflesh forming on your bare arms and pimpling over your collar bones. “I know you don’t. But we have all night to figure out what you like. We'll go as slow as you need.”

You’re not sure what you’re looking for in his face. Reassurance? Compassion? Want? Hunger? You see all those things and more. He lets you stand there in silence, eyes drinking you in, comfortable just watching and being watched. The more you see, the more you can feel your mind change. With the haze of alcohol thrumming through your veins fading a little, your brain is making more decisions. It was lust, pure and simple which got you here. Now your brain has to decide what you want to do here. More and more, the decision seems to be following him, letting yourself fall. You’ve never been impetuous, not where matters of the heart are concerned. Maybe you should be for once. The words end up tripping off the edge of your tongue of their own volition.

“What if I don’t want to go slow at all?” 

You know what it means when a man smiles at you like that, eyes molten, tongue sliding out to wet his lips. He prowls forward then, feline grace rippling the muscles of his torso. His arms feel like silk over steel as they crush you to his chest. Your heart stutters, breath catching as he leans forward. But he doesn’t kiss you. He seems content to breathe you in, foreheads pressed together. His mustache traces ticklish and light over your upper lip with every breath. You want nothing more than to smash your lips to his.

“I bet you don't, beautiful.” His eyes sparkle in the darkness as he traces one calloused fingers over your lacquered lips. “But I get the feeling you don't know what you want. You've spent all night so far telling me you don't let people take you home on the first night. But here you are, practically gasping for every touch of my skin to yours. So what’s going on in that pretty little head?”

The words make you squirm a little, thighs rubbing together futilely.

“I wonder,” His tone goes soft and contemplative yet light as he slides his hand up the expanse of your soft thighs, tenderly squeezing the muscular flesh. “Were you searching for a man to take you in hand? Someone who would smack that pretty little ass when you're being a brat? Is that why you chased that guy away so easily? Did you know instinctively he wouldn’t be able to do that for you?”

When you moan, it feels like you've lost the game he started playing. But you're not disappointed, not when his lips quirked upwards in a proud grin. And not when you feel his finger sweep over the damp gusset of your panties, teasing and light.

“Fuck, I knew you'd be gorgeous like this.” 

You shiver against him, muscles trembling, fighting against the urge to move his hands where you want them most. But even the slightest motion has those big hands clamping down over your wrists or swatting at the meat of your thigh, just harsh enough that you jolt. Your head is spinning already. 

“You're so quiet, so compliant and obedient, my good girl.” You have to swallow your whimpers at the term of endearment. “I can’t wait to see how good you can be.”

You nod, maybe too eagerly, if the smirk taking over his face is proof. 

“See?” The phrase is almost mocking as he purrs, “So damned pretty and soft and sweet.”

Your voice shakes as you try to collect your composure, breaking despite all the force of your will.

“I'm not that sweet. I can be rude and domineering and brash.”

He chuckles, pointing to a dark hallway, branching off the living room.

“Go to my bedroom, sweetheart. Take that sinful little dress off and sit on the bed.”

You're so gone for this man already. You don’t know his last name, what he does for work, or anything important. But you don’t care. As you trot into his bedroom, all you can think about is how his lips looked as they said, “good girl,” and how desperately you want to be good for him. Your hands are rough as you tug at the suddenly constricting fabric of your dress. You want it off; need the suddenly scratchy fabric away from your skin. When the dress lands on the ground in front of the bed in a bundle of dark fabric, you feel like you can finally breathe.

“Such a pretty girl.” 

You startle at the whisper. You hadn't turned the lights on when you walked in, navigating in the half-light of the streetlights below. A switch clicks in the silence, and you're surrounded by a halo of light. Bradley's in the shadows still, and you can’t see even a glint of his eyes.

“Turn around, baby.” 

You feel exposed all of a sudden, wearing only your lacy bra, barely there panties, and heels. His voice seems to echo around you, muddled and sibilant as they murmur words - orders - your way.

“Hands on the bed frame, beautiful.”

You stumble over your own feet as you rush to follow his instructions. With your eyes next-to-useless in the cool darkness of the room, it feels like your other senses are in overdrive.

“You look hotter than sin standing there like that, gorgeous.” 

You can feel the puffs of his breath over your sensitized skin, the fine hairs covering your arms standing on end at his presence ghosting over you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet, so compliant and obedient for me. Keep those legs apart for me, now.” 

He chuckles darkly, the sound deep and velvety soft. You have to fight your whine as your knees nearly buckle at the way he sounds.

“You like that?”

You whine when his big hand smooths over the expanse of your back. 

“I knew you’d like having someone tell you what to do. I knew you’d look delicious like this, spread out for me like that. Pretty girl, my pretty, pretty baby.”

Your brain fritzes out at those words, all higher-level thoughts blanking out at the possessive curl to his voice. Your prior dalliances - you'd never call them relationships because they were too short to be labeled as such - were never bold enough to become so possessive with you. You never thought you would like it. But hearing Bradley call you his, even when you know this is only for tonight, makes your toes curl and your panties uncomfortably wet.

“What happened to that fire, huh? What happened to the feisty little thing who sent a man away for asking you to hop into his bed on the first meeting?”

His words are a little mocking as those big hands smooth over your waist, plucking at the waistband of your panties.

“Bet his eyes would fall out of his head if he could see you standing here, just like this. With your pert little ass on display and your pussy all wet for me.”

You moan at the words, gasping at the feeling of his hands as they tug the lacy fabric down, flinching at the snap of the clasp of your bra as he pulls that away, too. Your skin flushes with heat at the feeling of the soft kiss he presses to the small of your back. But the tender teasing touches disappear shortly after. He leaves you standing there, wearing only your red-bottomed heels, aching for his touch, shivering as the cool air wafts over your heated skin. You have a feeling he’s still there, your ears picking up each infinitesimal rustle of fabric and soft brush of footsteps on the floor. He’s just left you standing splayed out for his own amusement. 

How is it possible for you to feel both turned-on and uncomfortably exposed at the same time? Your fingers ache from holding onto the smooth wooden surface of the bed frame. As your patience wanes, your fidgeting increases.

“Bradley?”

You’ve never heard yourself sound like this, plaintive and strung out, aching for someone else's touch. It feels like you’re breaking down walls you’ve never known you had put up. All you can do is hold onto the bedframe and pray you aren’t vulnerable with someone dangerous.

“Nuh, uh, uh, pretty.” The hushed admonishment comes with the press of lips against your shoulder blade.

“If you want me, then you have to tell me exactly what you want.”

You tremble at the words, grip tightening on the burnished wood until all you can feel is the tug of stressed muscles. You let your head fall until your hair is obscuring everything from sight. You’re not sure you can say these words, not without feeling horribly, uncomfortably exposed. 

“Touch me, please.” 

It’s the barest whisper, but you know he hears you. His hands are hot against your skin as they draw you up. You surrender to the sensations of his calloused fingers trailing over your stomach. They’re teasing and light as they shape your breasts, palms hot as they hold you close.

“Oh, baby, you feel better than I even thought possible.”

Pleasure sinks molten and sweet through your veins at the gorgeously rough purr in his voice. You sag against him, barely trusting in your limbs to hold you. You can feel his smile as he presses hot kisses down the side of your throat. The scratch of his stubble makes you gasp. With every press, the ache between your thighs intensifies even further. But Bradley doesn’t move his hands, no matter how you wriggle or try to push his hands down to where you so desperately need them.

“Please, Bradley.”

It feels like you’ve been begging for his touch forever when he finally moves. His hands twirl you around, and you find yourself crushed to his chest. His eyes are molten, prismatic as he tugs you close. It feels like you’re drowning in him. You curl your arms around his muscular neck, staring deep into his eyes as he peers at you.

“Please, what, baby?”

There’s a mocking tilt to the smug grin on his face as he looks you over.

“I told you what I need from you tonight.” 

You whimper at the words, trying to surge up, aching for some more contact from him.

“Kiss me.” 

“Good girl.” You’re not sure you’re ever going to get tired of hearing him call you a ‘good girl”. But then his lips cover yours, and you’re not thinking about anything but him. These kisses, just like all of the others tonight, are hot and claiming. You twine your fingers into the curls at the base of his skull, gasping at the press of his tongue.

“You’re such a good girl, sweetheart.” His lips slip down the side of your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse in a knee-weakening manner. “Mmmm, darling, do you want this to go any further?”

You nod, not trusting your voice to respond in anything other than a breathless, needy moan.

“Well, you know what you have to do, beautiful.”

You’re growling when you wrench his mouth back down to yours. “I just want you to make me cum.” You say the words between needy kisses, pushing the shirt up until you can finally wrest it off. The heat of his skin feels so good against your own. When you look up, the smile taking over his face is breathtakingly gorgeous, eyes blown wide as he lays you down on the pristine, cool sheets of his bed.

“You’re too beautiful to be real.” 

You shiver as he places a kiss against your sternum, open-mouthed and wet. The shiver turns into a moan when he wraps his lips around one taut nipple and sucks. Each rough pass of his tongue has pleasure coiling in the pit of your stomach. It feels like you’re searching for oxygen like you’ve never breathed it before when he finally pulls away. You’re half expecting him to tease you again, when he laves his tongue over the other, nipping and biting. Your moans spiral through the air. You know what he’s doing when he traces those kisses down your torso, but you don’t have the patience for any more teasing.

You tug him into a messy kiss. Your teeth clash against his somewhat painfully, but when he crawls over you, you can’t find it in you to mind.

“Baby, you have to let me make sure you’re ready.”  

“I don’t care.” You’re aware you sound like a complete brat, but Bradley seems endeared by it. He lets you manhandle him onto the bed, eyes shuttering as you settle on his lap, core settled over the sizable bulge in his trousers.

“I want you,” you’re practically sobbing as you grind down in his lap. “I’ve wanted you since you sat down on that bar stool.”

“Please.” It’s a desperate plea. “Stop teasing me. I’m ready.”

“Shh, beautiful. I’ve got you.” He smoothes a hand over the plane of your stomach, uncaring of all the places you hate about yourself. 

You can’t believe your eyes when he finally pulls the remainder of his clothes off. He’s golden and gorgeous, tan glowing as the moonlight loving highlights every muscle. You’re still not sure why a man like him wanted to take you home, not when he looks like he does. His hands smooth over you, parting your legs as he kisses you. Each press of his lips to yours are deep and tender. You search for his lips every time he pulls away and gasp when he nips at the pout on your lips in retaliation. You can feel the blunt head of his cock against your folds as he grinds into you, the rough slide of skin against skin easing as you grow wetter, needier beneath him.

When he presses into you, you nearly come at the first thrust. He’s big and thick, stretching you in a way you’ve never been stretched before. He settles into a languid pace. You feel claimed with each slow thrust, all friction and heat, pressure collecting at the pit of your stomach.

“Please,” you babble, pleading for him to continue, “Don’t stop, please.”

It feels like there’s lightning in your veins. Lightning which crackles and sparks until it feels like you’re one exposed livewire lying on the bed. He gathers you up then, settles you down on his lap, hands clamped on the corded muscle of his shoulders as you go ragdoll-limp in his arms.

“There” It’s a soft, sub-audible moan as he hits that sweet spot inside you that makes you see stars. He fucks you slow and sweet, right there, until you can barely feel your face and your eyes roll back in your head. You jolt when he brushes the pads of his fingers against your clit, massaging the hardened nub until you’re practically screaming his name. That’s how you cum, with soft kisses, shaking in his lap. His hands are big as they cradle your ass. You shiver as he thrusts half-a-dozen more times before finishing, his head resting on your sternum, breath hot against the sweat-drenched skin.

You slump to your side, boneless and exhausted, relishing in the cool press of the sheets. He slumps with you, still buried in you, closer than you’ve ever been to another person. You could drown in the molten sweetness in his eyes, the deep caramel depths drawing you in until it’s all you can see. He kisses you until your lips feel puffy and bruised. When he slips out of you, you ignore the mess, beginning your slow progress as you slide to the edge of the bed. He doesn’t stop you, long limbs sprawled over the sheets of his bed like a Greek god in repose.

He lifts his head, eyes blinking blearily, sleepily as you collect your clothes, pulling on each piece methodically. 

“What are you doing?” 

You flush in embarrassment. “I’m heading home.” 

You can hear the rustle of the sheets as you pull the wrinkled fabric of your dress on. His hands are hot as he turns you around. You’re unbalanced, only one heel on as you look into his eyes.

“You could stay, you know?”

You shiver, tugging him into one final, soft kiss.

“I could. But I won’t.” You step into the final heel before turning around again. His hands are gentle as they tug the zipper on your dress up.

“I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

Bradley nods, curls bouncing, throat working as he looks you over. You’re trying to look at anything but him, not wanting the temptation of his lean, muscular body.

“Be safe.”

Your Uber home is quiet, tense. Half your heart, it seems, is left in that posh bedroom, wrapped in cool Egyptian cotton, drowning in whiskey eyes. Your sleep is just as disturbed. 

You wake in the morning sweetly sore and groggy. But you can’t focus on a mind-blowing fuck, not this morning. Warring with exhaustion this morning as you take a tram downtown are your nerves. You’re nervous. This is the job you’ve been working towards your whole life. Call it fascination from a lifetime of watching legal dramas combined with a love for arguing and here you are. Three years of law school at Stanford and near perfect exam scores and here you are. Standing in a richly appointed conference room with five other rookie law school graduates waiting for orientation to start on your first day.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Law Firm of Kazansky, Mitchell, and Bradshaw.”

Your head seems to fly up at the words, and at first, you’re not sure whether you’re still asleep or drunk out of your mind. Because your eyes have to be deceiving you. There is no way Bradley is standing in the conference room with you. He’s flanked by a tall flaxen-haired man with a cocky grin and a buxom brunette in the snazziest pantsuit you think you’ve ever seen.

“I’m Bradley Bradshaw, senior counsel at the firm. My specialty is contract law. With me are my colleagues and fellow senior counsel, Jake Seresin, with a speciality of criminal law, and Natasha Trace, with a speciality in corporate law. We’re going to be your mentors at the firm. Let’s get one thing clear. We ask you all to jump, you ask us how high. Work hard, and we’ll have you taking cases of your own in no time.”

You feel like your skin is crawling with each word and each elapsed minute. Your palms are sweaty and your heart is racing as you distractedly count each minute until you’re left in a barren corner of the office in front of two empty cubicles with your training partner, a sweet-hearted brunette with a labrador retriever’s friendly personality named, Miguel “call me Mickey” Garcia. He’s already digging deep into the files Bradley handed over while you take a short walk to Bradley’s corner office. It’s just your luck you’d ended up having the man whose bed you were in last night as your mentor. And it’s just your luck that the first file you’d picked up had a post-it note on it asking for you to come by when you could.

Almost all the shades are drawn when you knock.

“Come in.”

He holds one of those long fingers up as he finishes up the conversation he’s having on the phone. You feel like you’re seconds away from being fired with every insolent look he sends your way.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Bradshaw?”

He smirks then.

“Yeah, I did.” He shapes your full name with his pouty, kiss-bitten lips, lips you bit last night, as he looks over you.

“Obviously you know nobody can know what happened between us last night.”

“Yeah, obviously.” You wrap your arms around yourself, pretending not to notice how your body aches at the sight of him, for want of him. “So what do we do?”

“Nothing,” He leans forward with a grin. “I'm not sure what last night was like for you, but for me, it was just like any other. I met a passably pretty girl at a bar and took her home. She left in the early hours of the morning after a mediocre fuck. That's it.”

You can feel rage rising, cold and sharp enough that it occludes the edges of the bleeding wound he’s caused with a few callous words.

“Now, I'm your mentor and boss. Professionalism is everything to me. My mom is the best lawyer I know, and one of the partners. She can’t know I fucked up so prodigiously with one of our rookies. And I will do anything to make sure she never does.”

It’s obvious last night meant little to him, much less than it meant to you. You wanted to track him down tonight, wanted to see if he would want to go out with you again. Obviously that isn’t an option anymore.

“Enjoy the files. Let me know if you or Garcia see something I didn't see in them. That will be all.”

Your head is reeling when you walk away, and you're quiet, withdrawn. Garcia doesn’t notice how your skin crawls with every footstep walking past the door of your small office or how you flinch at every laugh and loud conversation. Last night you were a nervous professional, worried about the job but hopeful for your date to go well. Now you’re the rookie who slept with her boss. You're his dirty little secret and he's yours. Your career, your life, and everything you've ever worked for hangs in the balance.

Taglist:

@sarahsmi13s @horseshoegirl @desert-fern @dakotakazansky

@teacupsandtopgun @cherrycola27 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989

@eloquentdreamer @redhope446

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[princess-of-the-corner]

You're reblog with the explanation of the Maribat salt prevalence got my brain kinda stuck on on the potential of a possible non-salty Batfam x ML crossover.

As someone who is an actual DC fan and an ML fan but has never touched Maribat with a 10 foot pole, here are a couple plot points I can picture if ML actually crossed over with the Batfam (more of a WFA style one though, considering the nature of ML)

The bats aren't really shocked or concerned Bustier lost a student, if that happens, because they've dealt with far worse from the school systems. They're more curious why the FUCK someone thought Gotham would be a good international tourist destination.

They're not shocked about the international magic terrorist or the children fighting him because *gestures vaguely at every iteration of the Teen Titans ever*, they're just kinda surprised they didn't know about it.

The batgirls are people that exist, and they would get along SO well with Chat.

Especially Stephanie. Which one of them am I describing here? Comedic, joke-cracking blonde cinammon roll who's also a TERRIFYING motherfucker when they wanna be, in love with a hyper-competent black-haired individual who's also a bit of a social disaster, considered too reckless and irresponsible and inexperienced by their teammates/mentors and frequently left out of the loop because of it, AND has an asshole villainous theatre kid for a father. They're SO similar, it's not even funny.

Also, the batgirls get chat on hormone therapy

Max, Markov, and Barbara have a coding fight that Barbara wins, but she's still really intrigued by Markov, spends hours chit chatting about it, and offers to teach Max coding remotely.

Tim trains/hires Lila somehow. This man gets like 3 separate villains working for him in Red Robin, and under his rules too. Tim doesn't really give a shit about your morality, if you're skilled and can be directed, he'll get you on his payroll.

Selina meets LB and CN and is absolutely gone on Chat. She thinks he's so adorable. She likes Mari too, but the punny catsuit kid strikes a chord with her.

Harley meets up with Juleka and they punch things together.

Nino and Harley commiserate about bad clown-themed fashion choices.

Forget Bruce Wayne. Helena Bertinelli, a.k.a Huntress, a.k.a someone who is a teacher as her day job has a field day shepherding the whole miracuclass around and teaching them how to use crossbows.

Just some thoughts running around in my head thanks to that RB. There really is quite a bit of potential here, especially if you allow the Batgirls to exist and let Chat run with the Bats.

Honestly there's so many oppurtunities for fun and shenanigans in a ml/batman crossover when it's actually an ml/batman crossover and not 'Mari as a mary sue who is sooooo beloved and perfect except her old class are evil people worse than Literally The Joker™ despite being dumb teenagers and she's gonna go fuck off and have fun with Batman instead!!!"

Honestly just the fact that the Bats would be more likely to pick up Lila than Marinette. Like Marinette is a girl who has loving parents and a wonderful life and sure she'll be recruited as Ladybug but Lila? Lila and Tim are going to team up to take over the world and there;s nothing we can do about it

[linmmelonz]

Guess the Build Doubles Quotes Part One

“We love a good twist ‘round here” Joel

“I am notoriously good at this” Skizz

“It’s a real flood of vom” Martyn

“[the lizards] he loves-they’re like children to him” Joel

“He’s WIIIIIDE!” Joel

“Otherwise it looks like he’s a bit of a contortionist” Joel

“It’s not gone…well” Grian

“There’s a lotta noise in this melon buddy” Skizz

“A pizza…ITS A PIZZA!!” Jim

“What the great googly moogly is this?” Grian

“Right, this is as far as we can get without things getting weird.” Grian

“Long…philangies coming out the top” Grian

“You’ve forgot eleventeen!” Martyn

“SABOTAGE HIS VIDEO JOEL!” Grian

“We’re best buds! We will not sabotage!” Joel

“When someone says: ‘there’s no such thing as perfect’ you just say: ‘the other side of the pillow’” Grian

“Su-phea what’s a su-phea?” Joel

“They’re stupid” Joel

“Yeah, yeah, um. Listen. Do your best. Lateral thinking here Jim!” Grian

“I just saw it-it jus-IT HAPPENED OK?!?” Skizz

“He looks absolutely baffled. He’s never seen that block in his life.” Jim

“He’s like ‘what is this dude? What is this man? I’ve never seen this block man before man! Grian what are you giving me man?’” Joel

“QUICK QUICK QUICK QUICK QUICK QUICK QUICK!!! YELLOW, BIG, DONE!!!” Grian

“I am all busted up here.” Skizz

“Skizz doesn’t process information as fast as the rest of us” Grian

“Right so this is a bit of a puzzle” Grian

“You-you made us do equations!” Jim

“HE KNEW WHAT IT WAS AND HE LET ME BUILD THIS!” Grian

“Let’s agree. That was a disaster.” Jim

“No but genuinely what the heck is this thing?” Joel

“Oh! What are you doing back here???” Joel

“It’s far better than wizard pig” Grian

“Oh my god” Grian

“Gravity is a bit stronger and that Jim” Grian

“It’s not really important I’m just teaching you a lesson” Grian

[expresso-bean]

The Man Out of Time [A ShadAmy and Silver Story]: Chapter 24

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Amy Rose

Description: It has been seven years of peace following the grueling war with Eggman and his army. Though it took time to rebuild what they have lost, life for the Freedom Fighters could not be better. Whether it's finding love or trying to run from their past, celebrating post-war times has been different for each of them.

All is well until a silver hedgehog comes knocking on Amy Rose's door to deliver the tragic news about an incredible force that seems to be the cause of the future's destruction.

Will anyone believe the mysterious hedgehog's cry for help? Or will he be left to fight for his future alone? Read to find out!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3k

POV: Amy Rose

!! I do not own any of the art/gifs/borders used in my chapters. All credits to the rightful owners !!

Masterlist ❀ Ch.1 ❀ Ch.2 ❀ Ch.3 ❀ Ch.4 ❀ Ch.5 ❀ Ch.6 ❀ Ch.7 ❀ Ch.8 ❀ Ch.9 ❀ Ch.10 ❀ Ch.11 ❀ Ch.12 ❀ Ch.13 ❀ Ch.14 ❀ Ch.15 ❀ Ch.16 ❀ Ch.17 ❀ Ch.18 ❀ Ch.19 ❀ Ch.20 ❀ Ch.21 ❀ Ch.22 ❀ Ch.23

'He's acting strange.'

I couldn't bear to take another step away from my home. I huffed as I sat down on the doorstep. The noise of the chaos happening around me made my eyes want to swell up with tears.

'What's the point in crying now? Training hasn't even begun yet!' I wanted to look up. But I knew what I would see would only break me apart tenfold. 'I just hope I'm not too rusty after all these years. Doing odd jobs and keeping up with a physical training regime have kept me battle ready for the most part. Although, I have been neglecting it since S came around.' 

The sounds of cars racing off and Tails' muffled voice forced my eyes to pry themselves forward. As I thought, what was before me was nothing short of a disaster. 

Crying children holding their mothers hands. Said mothers looking on in distraught as they tried to quickly move around for more things to gather into boxes and cars. 

Others were on the phones looking stressed. 

Elderly folks were sitting on chairs in front of the houses that would soon be destroyed. I could see people like Knuckles, Rouge, and Shadow going in and out of house or running about in the streets checking for items. 

All of it will be destroyed. Or so does the future determine. 

"Don't worry. Rebuilding will commence as soon as everything is back to normal!" Tails voiced boomed through the streets as little floating devices scanned each individual home from different angles several times over. "Everything is okay! Panic will only prolong the process!"

'If only it was that simple. I couldn't imagine myself in their situation.' I shook my head as I looked on at the array of people. The more I stared. The more I understood that I am like them. Bound to this future. Desperate and dependent to change in the best way possible. Although it feels impossible, there comes the slow realization that there is no other choice but to follow those orders. If they say 'pack it up', you pack. They yell 'run', you run. But none of us can tell them to fight. We can't. We exist to ensure they never have to worry about having to fight a force that is beyond what they can handle. 'That feeling. It must be...' 

"Awful," I kept my voice to a whisper. "It's awful. This is all awful..." 

I stared down at the gray pavement ahead of me. I could do nothing but clenched my fists from the frustration building up inside. After all, it wasn't at all fair. To anyone. That's why we fought so far the first time around. Nothing like this was ever supposed to happen again.

Yet. Here everyone is. Preparing for it to happen again.

'That was the fate of this timeline. My neighborhood destroyed. My friends, gone. Me.' I looked down at my hands. 'Dead.' 

I made a promise to not let that happen. Therefore, it won't.

'Well, I can't make good on any of my promises by just sitting here! I hope no one noticed I was gone for too long.' 

As I got up, I stretched my arms upwards toward the sky. Instant relief spread through my muscles when I exhaled. 

'I can do this! I've done worst missions before.' I took off a rubber elastic tie off my wrist and gathered my quills into a pony tail. 'I should trim this. If the elastic breaks in the middle of a battle it'll be impossible to fight.' 

I looked back at my front door. There was nothing by silence. 

'He'll... be right outside, right?' I lingered by the door for a second before stepped down from the doorstep. 'Not that it wasn't unusual that he would just come into my home to talk to me, but this time felt... different.' 

I was surprised that no one paid any mind to me walking about. They all looked to be in their owns heads or trying to gather items to stuff them in their vehicles as best they can. My beautiful neighborhood seemed to be reduced to shambles. The once happy, friendly faces I would see in the mornings looked scared. I nearly wanted to cry and the thought of the cherry trees being burnt to crisps.

'It'll take years to get them to look this beautiful again!'

"Amy?" Cream came rushing toward me. She grabbed me by the arms and shook me a bit. "You're here! Tails said S was looking for you, is everything okay?"

I was a bit taken aback by her concerned reaction. Cream has always been one to overly worry about me, to which the feeling was mutual.

"S is looking for me? I haven't seen him," I looked around me again. S was nowhere to be seen. "In fact, I was talking to Sonic. he just stopped by to talk to me."

"Where is he?"

We both snapped our heads towards Sally, who looked like she was going to burst into tears. I hadn't realized she was standing near us loading things into a white truck as my neighbor Mr. Song, an elderly fox gentleman, watched from the front seat.

'He's leaving...?'

Mr. Song moved to the neighborhood after the war. This place was the part of the city that got hit the hardest and one of the first neighborhoods that were completely rebuilt. It was Mr. Song's idea to plant an abundance of fruit trees around for the residents to enjoy while rations were low.

Seeing them loaded up in the truck shocked me. Yet, I couldn't blame them. No one thought another war would ever come. Cowering in a bunker was not for everyone, especially a young child and an elderly man.

'I wonder where they will go? Maybe to Carter's father's house? But that's so far. He lives on the other side of the state!'

"Amy?"

"Huh? I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to zone out like that! What did you say?"

Sally looked distressed by shook off my comment. I smiled at her nervously as she loaded up two other boxes into the truck.

"What happened to Sonic? He just up at left two days ago and know I find out he came to see you! What's going on with him?"

'Two days? How come I didn't notice?'

"Y-yeah, I-I couldn't tell you, he-he just worried about me and this WHOLE situation we are in."

Sally sighed as she loaded the last few boxes into the moving vehicle. She jumped up and grabbed a hold of a white rope before pulling down on it. I flinched at how loud the door slammed down.

'I can't tell if she's angry or not,' I watched as she secured the latch and dusted off her hands. Cream looked up at me, shrugging. 'Neither can she.'

"Hey kid, do you have the lock?"

"Yeah!" The passenger door opened, revealing Mr. Song's young grandson, Carter. "Here it is! Don't worry, my granddad has the key!"

She nodded and put the lock on the door. She tugged on it before tapping on the metal door. Carter looked towards Mr. Song and nodded.

"Thank you, Miss!" As he was leaving toward the truck, he turned his head and locked eyes on me. "AMY!" Carter rushed toward me and Cream, making her move out of the way as the boy stood in front of us. "I was hoping you would show! I'm gonna miss you and the cookies you make!"

"Oh," I looked down at him. I tried to match his bright smile, but I'd be lying to myself if seeing him leave made me upset. "So I was right. You and your grandfather really are moving."

"My dad wants us to go live with him. He says it's too dangerous to stay," Carter crossed his arms dramatically and pouted. "I told him I don't want to leave. Being neighbors with a Freedom Fighter is so cool!"

"I'm sorry you have to go, But hey, my door is always open. I'll make you whatever you'd like if you ever come by to see me."

Carter's arms came undone and his mouth immediately curled back up into a smile.

"You mean it?"

"Of course! How can I turn down my number one fan?"

"Aw! Cool!"

I could hear Mr. Song knocking on the door of the truck. Carter looked back and jolted up a bit.

"Coming!" He turned and yelled. He turned back around and looked at me again. Although he was smiling, his eyes looked as pouty as ever. "I'm gonna miss you, Amy! I'll try and visit!"

"I'll miss you both too."

Carter turned and ran back to the truck and crawled into the passenger seat from the open window. I held back a laugh as he jumped back into the car from the open window on the passenger side.

I caught a glimpse of Mr. Song as he backed out of the driveway. They stopped in the middle of the street to let some of the other residents cross.

"Bye Carter, bye Mr. Song!"

I saw him nod from the visor window and waved at him, hoping he'd at least see that last gesture.

'I hope things go well for them.' I could only watch as they drove off. 'I think it's for the best they get out of a place like this.'

"Are you okay, Amy?"

"I'm fine, just a bit sad, I guess."

"He was the man who helped plant those trees, right? For the children during ration time?"

I nodded at Cream's comment. Sonic, Tails, and Cream were the only ones that stuck with me while we went around rebuilding the neighborhoods. Others like Shadow, Sally, Knuckles, and Rouge went their own separate ways. It wasn't until four years ago that we all came back together and decided that it would be a good idea to live near each other in case of an emergency.

'I never thought it would amount to anything like this.'

"I had no idea. I forgot you all helped rebuild most of Mobius," Sally shook her head as she hugged herself slightly. That three-year period we were all separated was hard on everyone. "At least, most of you did."

"Well, it isn't like you had a choice. You had to go back to the Acorn Kingdom."

"Yeah!" Cream interjected. "If you hadn't gone back, half of Mobius would still be in ruin!"

"I suppose you're right," Sally tried to laugh off. Her smile was a bit to wide, like she was forcing her mouth ajar to appear happy. But she couldn't fool me. I've been trying just as hard to appear as happy as she is right now for months. "I'm just beating myself up for not being here with you all."

"It's best to not be so hard on yourself like that. None of us could have guessed what we had in store for us after the war."

Sally didn't say anything while she stood there, hands wrapped around ther forearms rubbing them up and down slowly. It was almost as if she was trying to console herself.

'Is she okay? Why is she only bringing this kind of stuff up now?'

"Amy?"

"Hm?"

"About what we were talking about?"

"W-what was it again?" I scratched my head and sighed. "Was it about Sonic?"

"Is he okay?"

Her tone was dead serious. Her hands were no longer trying to self-sooth, but her fists were balled and nearly pinned to her side. 

'What do I even say? I can't confess this to them! What if he hears? What if someone else hears and they tell him! It will ruin EVERYTHING!'

"I-I, I don't know," I managed to whimper out without stuttering too badly. "H-he looked tired. But I had no idea was gone for so long."

"Oh," She looked down again. I could see from the corner of my eyes that Cream looked mildly uncomfortable about discussing Sonic. "It's alright. I thought if he would have told anyone he would have mentioned something to you."

"Why to me?"

At looked at Sally. She opted to avert her gaze as she rubbed up her arms again.

'What is up with her? She seems scared. Or maybe, nervous?'

I would have liked to have thought that Sally and I mended our relationship after my whole obsession. When it was time to go visit her for the first time at Acorn Palace, all I could do was apologize to her. It took a year for her to sit me down and sincerely tell me that she accepted my apology. Sometimes, I still feel there is a veil of awkwardness and resentment whenever we discuss Sonic. I can't help but feel she still holds some anger toward me.

Not that it would be entirely undeserved. I know how mean I have been in my past.

"Well, Sonic, he, um, he trusts you more than himself at times."

'He does?'

"Um..." Cream waved her hand between us. I looked down at her, confused. Sally didn't avert her eyes away from the ground, not even to look at Cream. "I-I'm going to keep helping Tails, I-I-I'll see you both later!"

"Bye...?"

I watched her walk up to where Tails was scanning over some documents. She whispered something to him, to which he nodded and looked back at us.

'I wonder what she's telling him...'

"So, you thought about the same thing, right?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I can't blame anyone for feeling off. This whole thing. I never thought I would ever have to fight again."

"Can't disagree with you there."

"Amy!"

"S?" As he jogged over to me, I noticed Sonic trailing behind him. "Oh, Sonic-"

"Sonic!" Sally ran toward him, practically tackling him to the ground. "You're okay! What happened?"

He smiled at her as she held her face and littered her face with kisses. S tried his best to look away without seeming rude. 

'Ha, I forgot that he is still a teenage boy in spite of all of this going on.'

"I'm sorry I had to leave, I'll explain it to you later, I promise," Sally could only nod. I noticed that the moment Sonic took her hands off her, she gave him that same blank expression she gave me not too long ago. Whatever was bothering her undoubtedly had to do with him. "Let's get all these people situated in their homes."

"Its about time you all show up," Knuckles walked toward us, pointing at me with his fist. "What took you guys so long?"

"Sorry! I didn't mean to show up late!"

"So what if we're late? This isn't her or anyone else fault." Sonic put his hand on my shoulder and lightly pushed me behind him. I nearly would have bumped into S if it weren't for him lightly directing me next to him. "What matters is that we're here now. The only way we can get this done is if we work together."

"Right."

Sonic nodded at everyone's almost, unanimous response. I could see from behind him Shadow crossing his arms.

Say what you will about him, Sonic knows how to inspire people. He speaks with a voice so powerful that you can't help but listen.

'I am lucky to have him in my life.'

Sometimes, I want to laugh at myself for how I used to chase after Sonic.

So many hopeless nights, I would stay up and wait for him to swoop me up from my bed and take me to a place only he could show me.

'Oh, and the diary! I'm glad I tossed it out when I did! I wish I could go back and burn it.'

Those are the kind of childish romances I hold close to my heart. The kind that hurts in the moment but can look back on and smile as your mind cringes at the outlandish antics you've committed to get that one person to notice you.

It wasn't all for nothing.

Chasing him made me faster.

Fighting others to prove myself to him made me stronger.

Winning that war ensured peace for my friends.

I gained more than I ever lost. I could not be more grateful for that.

'I know I sacrificed my entire life to get Sonic to notice me,' I shook my head, looking down towards the ground. 'Got beat up a bunch. I fought in a war. I embarrassed myself in front of everyone that I knew,' I couldn't help but close my eyes and cringe once again. My body warmed itself with the awful secondhand embarrassment I caused for myself. 'I'm just glad that whole era is over! If not,' I couldn't help but smile. It was the only way to prevent the blush I knew that would eventually appear on my face. 'Someone I know I can give my everything too,' As soon as I turned to look his way, I was only able to catch a glimpse of his back turned toward me. 'If he can bother to look my way, that is.'

"Amy, catch!" I didn't even look toward Tails as I instinctively reached out my arms to grab the four or so stacked boxes. My knees buckled slightly at the new weight I suddenly had in my hands. "Get this to house '12' please! Then, I need you to help clear out those blue and yellow houses!"

I sighed, and smiled at Tails nervous as I whispered, "right away."

'I need to get out of my own head for a bit.'

--

The sky was getting dark with there barely being enough light to walk home without the street lights on. We dragged our feet beneath us in silence as we reached my home.

Sonic, Knuckles, Rouge, and Cream were lying next to each other, almost in a pile.

I was holding Sally by the arm as we joined them. Sally laid her head on Sonic's leg as I sat down next to Cream.

'It feels like we've done this a thousand times over...' I lay down next to her; my eyes stared up at the sky. I watched as the barely visible clouds graze across the dark blue background. I heard Cream whisper my name, I couldn't muster a response to her. Only a single thought danced in my head: 'I would sacrifice anything for this war to end like this.'

[simpingcowboy]

Pedro boys and why I'm swiping left on their tinders

This is all to be silly!! I love them all very much <3

Frankie Morales

His name there says Frankie (Catfish)....with his main profile picture being him holding you guessed it...a catfish. He doesn't have many other photos on there, with the exception of a few older military photos that are so blurry you can hardly tell which one he's meant to be.

The rest of his page is pretty empty aside from the music section, where you actually get the first real glimpse at what this man is about. While his music selection is very respectable, it does not overshadow the glaring issues with his profile.

In short, Frankie's profile makes you think "Am I dating the man? The fish? Or a catfish?" Swiping left fs.

Marcus Moreno

This one isn't his fault! His profile is perfect. No really. All the women at The Heroics made sure to help him with it! His photos are cute and show off all his best assets. The bio is a little cheesy in an endearing "yeah he's definitely a dad" way. The problem then? It's Marcus fucking Moreno!!! Leader of the Heroics!!!!!! On Tinder???? There's no way anyone is going to believe it's really him. I believe there's a verification option on Tinder now, but really...even then Idk. Unless he fully comes out on an interview or something to super casually mention he's on Tinder, it just ain't working. No one likes a catfish! (Sorry Frankie!)

Jack Daniels

Mr. "Tinder What?" himself!!!! Let's say he manages to figure out how to set up a profile and all that. It's gonna be inTERESTING to say the least. His photos are actually pretty solid. An intriguing mix of photos of him on the ranch and photos of him in the Statesmen HQ looking very well put together. Opening line is definitely "Save a Horse! Ride a Cowboy! 🤠♥️" Very on brand for him. Followed by something very pro-american about the flag or serving his country and honestly... that's where I'm gone 😅. We get to see a bit of Jack's political mind in Kingsman and let's just say i don't wanna know the rest of it.

I'm grateful this is Tinder and not Bumble. Because if Jack used the audio prompt and I heard that smooth Kentucky accent...forget EVERYTHING I just said. I would be taking a chance on him. Sorry 😔 I can't fix him, but I will have fun trying!!

Joel Miller

For namesake, we're gonna set this pre-outbreak. There's no time for swiping in the apocalypse. Profile isn't bad just very empty. He's not really trying and it's kinda obvious. His bio reads something along the lines of "Single dad of a spoiled teen" with mostly photos of himself and Sarah on his profile. A few photos of him and Tommy out camping or on a work site.

And as handsome as he is, the profile feels like something his kid forced him to make as a way of getting him off her back. I wanna sympathize and help her out, but I don't know I have the heart to attempt to win over this very clearly emotionally unavailable DILF. So for that reason, I'm swiping left.

Pero Tovar

If for some ungodly reason Pero was given Internet access and had a dating profile... it'd be a disaster. His bio reads something along the lines of "I don't open this app. If you wish to see me meet me at this pub" with approximate days and times he's there.

The first picture on his profile is a way too far away blurry shot of him training. If I was feeling brave enough to continue scrolling through his photos...the rest would certainly be borderline explicit highly suggestive photos of his torso and groin. And whilst I might think about it for approximately .25 seconds any remaining sense of dignity would kick in before I actually did anything about it. It'll sting momentarily, but I will be swiping left.

Ezra

Another man on this list who should absolutely NOT be given internet access. His photos are beautiful but uninformative...the only shots of him are blurred and artistically obscure. He pads the rest of his profile with photos of books he's reading and grainy shoots of the forest.

The bio...if there's a word limit best believe that Ezra has hit it. He used every given character at his disposal and managed to say very little with all of it. Something about a wandering spirit longing for companionship and a couple sexual innuendos for good measure.

While visually and verbally not the worst profile on this list, his pretension is so utterly palpable through the screen I actually don't think I'd be able to make it through the end of his bio without cringing...also his music selection is all just banjo instrumental???

[vickyvicarious]

He was still in the strait-waistcoat and in the padded room, but the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes had something of their old pleading—I might almost say, "cringing"—softness. I was satisfied with his present condition, and directed him to be relieved. [...] It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself dissociated even in the mind of this poor madman from the others; but all the same I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in common with him, so that we are, as it were, to stand together; or has he to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well-being is needful to him? I must find out later on. To-night he will not speak. Even the offer of a kitten or even a full-grown cat will not tempt him. [...] I wish I could get some clue to the cause. It would almost seem as if there was some influence which came and went. Happy thought! We shall to-night play sane wits against mad ones. He escaped before without our help; to-night he shall escape with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow in case they are required….

More of Seward being an absolute disaster today. Like, it's possible to see his train of thought... it's just very subjective and personal and super unethical.

He doesn't release Renfield from the padded room/straightjacket until the man is performing subservience for him again. Sure, it's also that he's not being actively violent, but the way he says "he was cringing, I was satisfied" leaves a sour taste in the mouth.

When Renfield goes "ha, as if I could ever hurt you" Seward is flattered. His hurt feelings of yesterday/a week ago (timeline weirdness!) are soothed. However, he tries to remain more objective and analyze why he gets special treatment now. He doesn't really like the idea that Renfield feels any commonality with him; this is something we've seen Seward quite conscious of in the past, his own atypical mind and how it may be close to 'madness'. He wonders also if Renfield is just trying to get something from him. In the past he's not quite realized just how successfully Renfield has manipulated him, and it's kind of hilarious how Seward's immediate impulse here is to offer up what he thinks Renfield wants. If the guy were still trying for a cat, he'd be on the right track it seems.

But also, the fact that Seward offered a full-grown cat is really alarming. In the past, he did bring that up first, yes. But it was in the context of Renfield asking for a kitten, Seward promising nothing, but inquiring if he would rather have the adult. He never actually made any offers, and in fact that was his line in the sand that ended up halting the initial animal cultivation experiments. He refused to give a cat or kitten, thinking that would be going too far - though he was tempted for a cause to justify it. Here, he just makes the offer for either one! No cause in sight!

And at the end, he makes another wildly unprofessional choice to give Renfield the opportunity to escape to see what he will do. Quite aside from the fact that he's not supposed to be allowing patients to run away, Seward himself begins the both the main entry and this later part by saying Renfield was violent for days (three in this later bit - should this be two separate entries and we are missing a week, then three more days, or was Stoker considering only a 3-day gap from yesterday? timeline weirdness! but regardless, it's still been days). Sure, he's calmer by night and that's when he plans to release him, but this is opening up himself to potential legal trouble as well as Renfield/potential passersby to physical danger (or even himself or the attendants; Renfield is a strong guy and who knows if he might fight back harder this time or pick up a weapon). He's also treating Renfield like nothing but an experiment, with no consideration for things such as how the last time he got out and went to the chapel his mental health took an immediate and prolonged dive. He's not treating Renfield like a person. And for all he's veered dramatically towards seeing him as a potential threat in the past, he's not treating him like one either here.

It's something he absolutely should not be doing in any way. And yet... he wants to know, so he's doing it. Just like he wanted to see if Renfield would respond to better bribery, so he just casually stepped over the line he'd drawn to offer him a cat. Even if he never intended to actually deliver on that offer, making it was cruel and showed his morals aren't really affecting his decision-making much at all right now. And that's only further proven by the release-and-catch plan. Sure, he doesn't actually intend for Renfield to really get away (they'll be right there to catch him) - but that's already going way, way too far.

Seward doesn't mention his own sleep this entry, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's not slept properly or even at all in days. Not that that's an excuse, but... I can't imagine he isn't sleep-deprived to hell during all this.

[amity-moonrise]

Really important announcement, please read.

Contents: last formal post about our ex and also stuff regarding the future of this blog, brief mentions of abuse but nothing descriptive, mentions of grooming

had a flashback get triggered because of a name that someone used online that just happened to be a name that I associated with the drama with my shitty ex and my actions

I only now realized that he groomed us. He manipulated us and kept us in the dark and we took in his toxicity and his behaviors and unknowingly projected those same behaviors to other people and hurt them.

I thought maybe I could find closure after he was exposed but after realizing that he’s left so much of himself and his actions behind onto us, I started to feel like I was a part of him instead of a separate human being. I felt sick, I felt alone, I couldn’t really talk to anyone because of the consequences of our ex deliberately alienating us from everyone. I thought that I was just as bad as him after I unknowingly went too far with an old friend of mine.

It didn’t help that this happened right after I got rejected hard from my previous fp weeks before. I was in such a low during the summer it was horrible.

But I realize that if I really want to move on I need to acknowledge the fact that I am not him. I am not Stylus. I am not this abusive, manipulative, sadistic man that hurts people. I am not someone who enjoys watching people suffer or watch disturbing graphic content like him. I am not someone who physically abuses people. I am not my abuser.

I have to acknowledge that and unlearn everything I ever learned from him. I had to unlearn and untrust everything he said about DID to me and what it is and listen to survivors and research and make my own decisions and opinions about what I believe in. I have to eradicate or grow distant to the things he left behind with me, gifts he gave me, the name of our system (we came up with a system name because of him), the memories of the system server i first ever joined and soon left after feeling extremely uncomfortable in there, the polaroid photo of him in it, his face, his abandoned tumblr, childhood memories of him and I, anything he gave or pushed onto us knowingly or unknowingly.

I now realize truly the extent of my own trauma from him. Though his grooming wasn’t sexual, he set us up for disaster and isolation. He made sure that I would ultimately be left alone had I gone against him. That I only went to him and him only.

I reached out to an old friend of mine (the person who even called out our ex publicly with the full truth) and I wont lie, I was scared to even send that text saying hi. I had already made mistakes and hurt people because my actions reminded those people of Stylus and I was terrified that this friend wouldn’t want to talk to me again. I was worried that my mere existence to everyone who was involved in this drama is just “Stylus’ childhood friend”, a creation he later abandoned and let loose to cause havoc.

But I was replied with a nice response, leading to a peaceful conversation (though it was short because I sent the text late at night 😭). I wasn’t unfriended, I wasn’t blocked, I wasn’t yelled at or told to never speak to them again, none of that. It made me realize that all that fear I still carried was for nothing. Sure it still will bug me for a while in the back of my head but ultimately, I am free. I am just me, and this friend is just a friend, who is super nice and super talented and is very awesome imo. Sure we may have met through the same shitty person but I don’t have to let that define how I want my friendships to work.

I have made mistakes and lost friendships, obviously I can’t take that back, but the least I can do is separate myself from Stylus all together and focus on the friendships that I can maintain now.

This may be the last time I talk about my ex formally (might mention him here and there, maybe roast the shit out of him even, idk stuff happens), and this also means that I am going to have to rebrand. I came to Tumblr because of Stylus, but leaving it is not the option. I formed such a wonderful community here and made so many system friends who are actually caring and supportive of us. The best I can do is a rebrand. We have been wanting to rebrand but didnt think it was necessary till now. We will keep the post format the same (i love yellow and space and stars but will change up the profile stuff), but we will definitely change our system name to something different, something that is us and not him.

But we need your help, the community. We have been trying to think of name ideas and we are at a loss rn. If anyone has any ideas, anything, please share. We would prefer if the name had SOME relevance to our profile aesthetic (or even just related to stuff we like such as yellow, witchcraft, astronomy, fantasy, faries, stars, etc), but we are open to suggestions.

When the rebrand here is complete we will update our sideblogs with the accurate information and slowly change our online identity into something of our own.

That’s really all we have to say right now, everything is now out there. If you haven’t read the call out posts about my ex, you can read them, theres info on my pinned about it, but I will warn you that there is triggering content due to the nature of the situation (it’s why I am not recommending you to read it, just saying you can since its out there)

Anyway, other than that, thats all we have to say.. I am really tired and should sleep now. But thanks a lot for sticking around and we hope you stick around longer for more tomfoolery and sillies in the future!

Yours truly,

Silas and the rest of formally Starfall System ✨🌟💫

[thisdancingheart]

Hello Tumblr friends, from Southern California.

I am fine, I’m on the far right of this map, out of danger of the current fires, close enough to see their smoke plumes across the basin and I should probably wear a mask if I go out because the smoke is just hanging over us all now. There is dirt and fine ash that will need to be swept up, probably tomorrow. We have another wind event predicted for Monday and Tuesday, but probably not as fierce as the one on Tuesday. Oh, this screenshot is a day old, the acreage is out of date now.

This is one photo of one area of Pacific Palisades. This does not look like a war zone or any other thing you might compare it to, it looks exactly like a fast moving wildfire fed by 80 - 100 mile an hour winds ripping through vegetation that hasn’t seen a drop of rain since April, or maybe it was March, and it grew thick in ‘22 and ‘23 when we did get rain. I have lived somewhere in California, north or south, since I was four. We always get wildfires in October, until the rain comes in December or January, but they have been made exponentially worse because of climate change. Do not listen to tin hats and tangerine guy cultists who will try to blame everything and everyone under the sun, they don’t live here, they don’t know what we deal with. This is climate change. Repeat ad nauseam.

You may have heard about the celebrities that have lost their homes, but I promise you they are probably only 1% of the population that is suffering. The majority of the homes lost in Pacific Palisades and Altadena belonged to middle class families and the elderly who bought them decades ago. They were passed down to adult children instead of being sold, they were kept in families who could not afford to enter the market at current prices. Many small business owners have also lost their livelihoods, restaurants, salons, shops, etc, and they may not be able to relocate or rebuild. The early estimate is more than 5000 structures have been lost, that includes schools, churches, grocery stores, private museums, and other types of places that help build communities and connect people.

If you are someone who thinks “ha ha LA deserves it” for some reason, first, fuck you, and second, if you really believe that, then stop consuming our products, including Disney, Netflix, and network TV, anything filmed here, any game developed here, anything written here, anything financed here, anything grown here, etc, etc.

So far, I am personally adjacent to a few people that I know have lost their homes: the man who designed and handmade a few pieces of jewelry that I own including the teapot and tea cup necklace you may have seen me wear if we’ve ever met in person, and the woman whose workouts I used to subscribe to years ago. I’ve met Mandy Moore a few times in the past, I’m quite fond of her, and like many, I followed along as she remodeled her home before moving in to it. She’ll be fine, her home is mostly intact, but I feel for her husband losing his studio and the instruments he had collected throughout his life.

Before you reply to this post, please look around your home and imagine it gone, except for a backpack that you were able to fill before you ran out. Imagine your neighborhood gone, your community gone, your friends and neighbors scattered all over the region seeking out shelter and assistance. Please spare a thought for those who have lost everything in Los Angeles, North Carolina, Florida, etc, because we are all in this together and it isn’t a natural disaster competition. I know there are places all over the world suffering, this is all I have the capacity for right now. I am bracing for more to come next week.

Thank you for making it this far. Please reblog or reply with compassion. Take your BS elsewhere. Thank you.

Edit to add: special thanks to Canada and Mexico, two sovereign nations, for sending firefighters and Super scooper planes.

[hitching-hyacinth]

Did someone order a loyal knight with a bad cold and his prince who loves him dearly trying to get him to rest for once in his life? Here’s 4k words of that, please enjoy these guys who barged into my head and won’t leave

—

As if negotiations in Halfford hadn’t gone poorly enough, Prince Robin thought, bouncing about uncomfortably in the back of his carriage, Sir Harper had started to catch cold a couple days into the journey home. Off of the Duke’s snot-nosed son, Robin had no doubt. The brat practically hung off Harper’s shirt all week, as if he were a fawning child rather than a man hardly any younger than Harper.

Harper made his ailment utterly unobtrusive, as always, his service unfailing. Any other company might not have realized he was ill at all. But Robin knew him too well to miss the edge of fatigue to his practiced smile, the soft sighs when he didn’t realize Robin was listening, the sneezes muffled into his cape just too often to pass off as coincidence.

And Robin knew him too well to say anything. Harper blamed himself for the disaster this trip had become, even if he didn’t want Robin to see as much. As if he ought to have prevented the storm that stalled them four days on the way to Halfford, or Duke Edward’s foul mood at the delay. With Harper on edge as he was, Robin didn’t have the words to ask after him without Harper taking it as a critique. He blamed his friend’s father for that. The old bastard was just the sort to wield “are you quite well?” as a blunt weapon.

Robin was in far too sour a mood for tact. On another day, he would walk beside the carriage and talk with Harper, but given the circumstances, he was better off sulking with the luggage. Even if he wound up with a bruise or two, he didn’t have to try so hard to bite his tongue with the creaks and clangs of the cart on the uneven road making conversation difficult already.

“It’s getting dark,” Harper called back. There was a fresh rasp to his voice accompanying the mounting congestion that marred his m’s and n’s. The poor man ought not to shout so. “If we press, we may reach an inn not long after sundown, but…”

“Let’s camp here.” Robin shifted carefully, extracting himself from the corner of the cart he’d wedged himself into. He didn’t want Harper doing any pressing.

“Very well, my lord.” A note of relief in Harper’s voice, well-masked but perceptible. The cart rumbled to a stop and creaked loudly as Harper stepped down from the driver’s seat.

Robin followed suit and crawled from the back of the cart, stretching out stiff and aching limbs. He really did prefer to walk. He circled around, intending to offer help, but paused when he saw Harper seize a fistful of his cape and bring it close to his face. His shoulders rose with his breath, once, twice—

Harper ducked into a rough, throaty sneeze, muffled harshly by the thick wool of his cape.

“Bless you.” Even that much, Robin worried would be unwelcome.

“Ah—tha’k you.” Harper dragged his cape roughly under his nose and sniffed with a determined finality. He smiled. “I am glad to see you in one piece after being tossed about like a sack of flour. What draws you to ride in the cart on roads like this, I can’t understand.” He set to unyoking the horses, leaving Robin to trail uselessly behind him.

“It isn’t so bad without armor clanging about you.” Robin rubbed his arms.

“Hah.” Harper lifted the yoke from the horses’ shoulders, a quick flash of pain crossing his face when the weight settled in his right arm. Was his shoulder bothering him, too? It was awfully cold this far north. “There’s no need to lie to me, my lord. I only wish I could give you privacy with a little more comfort.”

Robin huffed a laugh. “Alas, you are no magician. I am merely grateful my father didn’t insist on sending an entourage after us.” And he was, truly, whatever Harper might have thought. It isn’t as if thirty men could have fought off a storm that Harper couldn’t.

“Your father’s men don’t know how to leave you well enough alone,” Harper agreed, but Robin didn’t miss the doubt that flickered across his face. He set down the yoke and glanced at Robin. “Are you warm enough? The cold comes on quickly out here.”

Robin dropped his hands from his arms. “Perhaps not.” The wind was beginning to creep through the linen of his shirt without the canvas walls of the cart to block it.

“Allow me to fetch your cloak.” Harper strode past before Robin could insist on fetching his cloak himself. It was likely best to let him help, anyhow. If small, unneeded favors were what he needed to prove himself, there was no reason to protest.

Harper returned promptly with Robin’s favorite travel cloak over one arm—a thick red one, almost long enough to drag on the ground, made when Robin was young enough that there was hope he’d grow taller. “I hope you are well, my lord,” he said, fastening the cloak over Robin’s shoulders.

It took Robin a moment to process the question. “I—am. For the most part.”

Harper smiled, honest despite the tired weight to it. “I’m glad. It can be hard to tell, when you draw away from me, when I should start to worry. I hope you will never feel lonely when I am with you.”

And he squeezed Robin’s shoulder and returned to the back of the cart like he hadn’t just stung Robin senseless. He’d made Harper worry for him all this time. Since they first arrived in Halfford, no doubt, and Robin had spent every evening too exhausted by the Duke’s temper to do more than sulk in his guest room and tell Harper to explore the city without him. Harper understood, as Harper always understood, but it was hardly any wonder he’d gotten tense. Robin could be a dense little brat sometimes, he thought bitterly.

A wrenching, tightly muffled sneeze pulled Robin back to himself. He moved around to the back of the cart, where Harper had paused in tying down the rear flap to press his fingers to his temples, exhaustion written plainly on his face. The red cast of his nose was no longer faint, and the poor thing was starting to swell under Harper’s rough treatment.

“Bless you,” Robin said, anxiety creeping foolishly up his neck. Talking to Harper ought to be the easiest thing in the world. Damn this trip, damn Duke Edward, and damn Robin’s own idiocy.

The exhaustion all but vanished from Harper’s expression as he looked up and gave a quick thanks, carrying on with the canvas.

Robin twisted the edge of his cloak between his fingers and dared to ask, “Sir Harper, are you well?”

Harper paused his work for just a moment, too briefly to be noticed by anyone paying the slightest bit less attention than Robin. “I may have caught a chill back in Halfford,” he admitted, his tone carefully flat. “Do not concern yourself, my lord.”

“I shall concern myself if I like,” Robin said before he could think better of it.

Harper pulled a rope taught with a fair bit more force than seemed necessary and barked a laugh. “Of course, my lord.” He sniffed, sharp and wet, and tied off the rope, securing the canvas flap over the open back of the cart. He climbed inside without another word and started shifting things around, laying out their bedrolls and moving fallen luggage aside.

Robin sighed and leaned against the cart, pulling his cloak tight around himself. He’d misstepped already. A cold. What an absurdly unremarkable, temporary affliction to regret. As if anybody could think less of Harper for such a thing. For falling ill, for bowing to the weather. Robin could think of a few sharp words for Harper’s father, though he doubted they would do any good.

He watched the darkening sky as Harper bustled around in the cart. Some clouds were forming to the east—might it rain? The roads would be hell tomorrow if it did. Perhaps they ought to have pushed on to the inn after all.

“Does it look like rain to you?” Robin asked as Harper emerged from the carriage. He’d stripped his cape, tabard, and heavy mail, leaving him in trousers and a tunic with his sword tied around his waist.

Harper glanced up to the east, briefly pressing a gloved knuckle under his nose. “Ah—yes, most likely.” He smiled. “Worry not, my lord. You will stay quite dry in the cart.”

Robin bit his lip. “Yes, but the roads will—I will stay dry?”

“We will.” Harper sniffled and laid a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Worry not. I am hardly infirm. I shall handle the roads tomorrow, whatever condition they may be in.”

“Of course you shall.” Robin sighed, studying Harper’s face, the faint lines of exhaustion his best efforts can’t erase. “I do not doubt your capability, but…it has been a long journey.”

“It has.” Harper squeezed Robin’s shoulder briefly and let go, looking away. Was Robin staring? “Rest in the cart. I will take care of camp and fetch you when there is dinner.”

That isn’t what Robin meant at all, but already Harper was striding away towards the horses. Robin followed him, almost jogging to keep up with his long, quick steps. “No. I will accompany you.”

“No need.” Harper didn’t slow, nor turn to Robin. “You are exhausted. Rest for tomorrow.” There was a clipped insistence to his tone so uncharacteristic that Robin was almost hurt until Harper brought both hands to his face and smothered a sneeze that seemed to tear through him and take a piece with it, leaving him staggered slightly with a few short, harshly constrained coughs.

“Bless you, Sir.” Robin took the opportunity to overtake Harper and reach the horses first. Of course—poor Harper hadn’t had a moment’s privacy since they’d left Halfford. If Robin couldn’t convince him to let his guard down before him, he could at least give him a few moments alone. “I assure you, I am quite capable of watering the horses myself. We shall both to bed sooner if I help.” He took both horses’ leads without waiting for a response and clicked at them to follow.

“…very well, my lord.” If Harper was trying to disguise the relief in his voice, he didn’t manage it very well. He sniffed thickly and dropped his hands from his face. “The river is a short way south of here.” He pointed, but Robin could hear the rushing water already.

Robin nodded. “I shall return soon.”

And he led the horses off. This was absurd. Why should the two of them play these games even when alone? Harper’s father was not here to scold him, nor anybody who might report to him or the King. Why should decorum prevent Robin from speaking frankly with his dearest friend? He ought to order Harper to rest as much as he was able.

The river was further than Robin anticipated, and by the time he returned night had all but fallen, the air damp and bitterly cold, and the rain clouds in the east were unmistakably nearer. At least he was able to spare Harper the trek—the fool would have left without his cloak—but he was relieved nonetheless to see a fire roaring already by the time he returned, a steaming pot hung over it. He secured the horses and joined Harper beside it on a fallen log, noting with pleasure that Harper had remembered himself and donned a cloak.

“Back at last, my lord?” Harper smiled at Robin as he sat down, a touch of mischief in his expression. “I had forgotten how much longer a walk can be on shorter legs.”

Robin shoved his shoulder, gasping in mock offense. “You know perfectly well how quickly I walk.”

“How slowly.” Harper’s grin flashed into a grimace and he turned away from Robin, lifting a fistful of his cloak to his face. His breath wavered perilously for a moment, and he crumpled, smothering a heavy sneeze into the fabric.

“Bless you.” He sounded worse, Robin thought.

Harper coughed roughly before recovering his breath. “Hah. Tha’k you.” An attempt at sniffling audibly caught in stuffed-shut sinuses and Harper cleared his throat, such an unmistakeably unwell sound that Robin wanted to drag him to the cart to sleep and damn his feelings on the matter.

“What do you think of breaking into that mead the Duke refused?” he said instead. “My father won’t expect it back, and it seems a fine night to warm ourselves up.” And perhaps a bit of drink would help ease Harper’s nerves.

“If you’d like.” Harper tipped the pot over the fire towards him with a ladle, his other hand keeping the hem of his cloak pressed under his nose. “Though I hope you don’t need drink to find my company tolerable.”

Robin laughed. “Simply unbearable, being alone with the likes of you. It’s near enough to make me miss Duke Edward’s hospitality.” He stood and brushed dirt from the back of his cloak. “I simply can’t face a sober evening with company who prefers me to a horse’s ass.”

That earned a huff of laughter from Harper. “I’ve been looking at a horse’s ass all day. You’re a far better sight.”

“He doesn’t mean it, Dapple,” Robin called to the horse in question, who flicked an ear in utter disinterest. He patted her side on his way back to the cart.

It was dark inside the cart with the rear flap blocking out the firelight, but it was easy enough to find the mead, bundled up in a spare cloth and tied to the side of the cart to ensure it didn’t bounce around and break. There ought to be some handkerchiefs about, too. Robin recalled seeing a couple at the bottom of his bag, so he took a moment to dig them out.

When he returned to the campfire, Harper had taken the pot off the fire and was doling out stew to travel bowls. Robin offered a handkerchief without a word.

Harper took it with a nod of thanks and swiped quickly under his nose, though by the sound of things that wasn’t nearly enough.

The stew was fine enough, good for being scrounged together from diminishing fresh supplies. Harper called it a last proper meal before returning to dried meat and stale crackers. The mead was better. Robin’s father wasn’t one to spare expenses when it came to obsequious gifts.

“The one gift the Duke’s given us,” Robin said after the two were halfway through the bottle.

Harper snorted. “His generosity shall not go unremembered.” He took a swig from the bottle, then passed it urgently back to Robin. “Pardon—” His breath caught and he twisted away from Robin, though the sneeze seemed to toy with him, keeping his breath hitching uncertainly for several seconds before tearing out of him with a vocal desperation that almost startled Robin.

“Bless you.”

“Ngh.” Belatedly, Harper lifted the handkerchief to his face and blew his nose hard, though, by the sound of it, not to much effect. “Blast this cold.”

He must have been feeling calmer if he was complaining, Robin noted with pleasure. Though whether that was thanks to the mead or to dinner and company, he couldn’t guess. “Poor thing,” he said as lightly as he could manage, rubbing Harper’s shoulder.

Harper huffed, with laughter or irritation. “You needn’t tease me, my lord.”

“I’m not!” With feigned offense, Robin set the bottle on the ground to fold his arms. Harper picked it idly back up. “Can’t a man express his sympathies for a friend?”

“Of course, my lord.” Harper took another swig. “But as I’ve said, you need not worry.”

“Need not worry, need not worry!” However much the mead was touching Harper, Robin was feeling a touch bolder. “Perhaps I want to worry, Har. You aren’t acting like yourself.”

Harper grinned, visibly biting back a laugh. “You’re acting plenty like yourself.” Robin squinted. “Fussy and overprotective.”

Robin scoffed, almost offended. “Overprotective! Says Sir ‘rest in the cart while I do the work of thirty men!’”

“Thirty men!” Harper laughed properly at that until his breath caught in his throat and pulled him double in a coughing fit. “Thirty, Robin, really?” he croaked as soon as his breath allowed.

“My father would send thirty.”

Harper drank again, calming the cough. “Your father really is overprotective.”

Robin could hardly argue with that. He shifted closer and leaned into Harper’s side. “Honestly, what’s the matter?”

“You got me drunk so I’d admit I don’t feel well,” Harper said, vaguely impressed. “Conniving bastard.” But he leaned back into Robin’s touch.

“Answer me, Harper.” Robin let a smidge of princely authority into his tone. “You aren’t usually so…”

He searched for the word, but Harper gave a stuffy, defeated little sigh and sank deeper into Robin’s side. “Your father will have my head when we reach home.”

Robin scoffed. “Like hell.”

“He will.” Harper sniffed and pressed the handkerchief beneath his nose with some force. “You’ve been miserable on this trip—don’t lie to me; you have been—and it is my job t-to—oh, hell—” He leaned away from Robin and crushed a sneeze into his handkerchief, sharp and rough and furious.

“Bless you. I don’t give a damn about your job.” Maybe Robin oughtn’t to have drank. It made it awfully difficult to shut his mouth. “I only care that my friend is ill and you won’t let him rest.”

“I give a damn.” Harper didn’t snap, but the edge to his tone suggested he might have were Robin anybody else. “I haven’t got the luxury of only being your friend.” But he leaned back into Robin’s shoulder nonetheless.

Robin bit down the first words on his tongue, Your father said something to you. Dragging up that old argument could hardly do good. “I’d be happy to see you rest,” he said instead.

“Hah.” Harper swiped beneath his nose. “Less so to see the cart uncovered, dinner unmade, fire unlit…”

“I could have done any of that myself,” Robin insisted.

“And then what use would I be?” Harper’s tone might have sounded playful to someone else, but Robin heard the subtle frailty in the words.

A drop of rain splashed on Robin’s cheek. He put up a hand to feel for more.

“Right.” Harper sat up and pulled Robin’s hood over his head, smiling. As if Robin is the one needed reassuring. “Go stay dry in the cart. I will join you within a half-hour.”

Robin could have argued. A better friend might have. But Harper was rarely so insistent unless he was right, even if Robin couldn’t see it. “I’ll come looking if you’re late,” he said instead.

Harper laughed. “Nonsense, my lord. We don’t need you catching cold, too.” He stood and offered Robin a hand up.

Robin took it. “Then be with me in a half-hour.” The longer he ran his mouth, the longer Harper would be out in the rain, so he nodded goodbye and headed for the cart.

Inside the cart, he lit his fire-light and left it near the entrance, providing paltry light for Robin but, he hoped, a signal for Harper in case the rain put out the campfire. It wasn’t as if he needed to see much to strip off his cloak and boots and crawl under the blankets Harper had laid out.

The rain picked up quickly, and wind along with it. Robin pulled a pillow over his head, trying to block out the roar of the rain hitting canvas and with it the thought of poor Harper caught outside in this misery.

He had no way to tell the time, but he trusted despite his threat that it really had been less than a half-hour when Harper returned. He heard splashing, heavy footsteps drawing closer, then a creak of the cart as Harper started to step up. A pause, then a wet, wrenching sneeze, half drowned out by the rain hitting canvas but for once not muffled. And then another, ripe with exhausted frustration. Harper cursed, gave his nose a quick, rough blow, and climbed into the cart.

“Bless you.” Robin took the pillow off his head and rolled onto his back. “It sounds miserable out there.” As close to you sound miserable as Harper was likely to accept.

“Hah. S’pose so.” Harper turned out the fire-light and tossed it back to Robin, who fumbled it in the unexpected dark. “Were you frightened without me?”

Robin grumbled. “Oh, terribly. I’m a grown man; I’m not afraid of the rain any longer.”

Harper laughed, still shuffling around the cart to get out of his boots and cloak. “And here I thought you needed me.”

Robin lifted up the blankets to his right—prematurely, he realized when the unexpectedly cold air made him shiver. “All right, then. Get under here and protect me from the wind, Sir Necessary.”

To Robin’s relief, that drew more laughter from Harper, until it broke into a couple coughs. “Of course, my lord,” he said, a bit raspy, and slid under the blankets beside Robin.

He was keeping weight off his right arm, Robin noticed. So his shoulder was acting up. Robin waited for him to settle, then moved himself onto Harper’s good shoulder, pinning him down, and tucked the blanket gently over the other before Harper could protest.

Harper laughed softly and looped his arm around Robin’s waist. “You’re fretting.”

“Will you deny me that?”

“I will deny you nothing, my lord,” Harper said with that note of amusement that always left Robin torn between affection and indignation.

He settled on responding with a haughty sniff and pulling the pillow under Harper’s head. “Then tell me what you would have of me.”

Harper’s answer was as quick as predictable. “Nothing, my lord.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Robin settled his head on Harper’s chest and hooked a leg over Harper’s, drawing him close to share their warmth. Harper’s clothes were damp, and he shivered slightly beneath them. All the more reason to cling to him. “I know you hate to be alone when you’re unwell, but you’re hearing anything more than ‘bless you’ as a slight against your honor. Tell me how to care for you.”

Harper sniffed. “It is not your responsibility to—”

“Why did we come out here alone just to act like your father is listening?” Robin bit his tongue, regretting the words as soon as they passed his lips.

He might not have heard Harper’s breath catch without his ear pressed to his chest, but the sound made him want to shrivel up where he lay. “Oh, hell, Har, I—”

Harper twisted his head away from Robin into a vicious, half-stifled sneeze.

Oh. “Bless you. I’m sorry.”

Harper sniffed hard and brought up his right hand to scrub beneath his nose. “Tha’k you.” He sucked his teeth, absently rubbing a thumb on Robin’s back. When he spoke, it was hardly more than a hoarse whisper, as if asking quietly were less offensive: “Will you ride beside me tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Robin could feel the tension leave Harper. “I ought to have done so from the beginning.”

“You needed space.”

“And you needed company.” Robin shifted, pulling Harper in tighter. He’d stopped shivering. “I wish you’d asked for it sooner.” Harper started to speak, but Robin added, “I know you think you can’t, but I wish you would.”

Harper chuckled softly. “Truly, Robin, you worry too much.”

“Only as you refuse to take proper care of yourself,” Robin protested. “Get some sleep, now.”

“At your pleasure, my lord,” Harper teased, but he relaxed beneath Robin and, soon enough, drifted off to sleep.

[midorisudachi]

“Living a lie…it festers inside you, like poison. You have to fight for what’s in your heart.” – Dorian Pavus

I recently beat Dragon Age Inquisition for the third time! I love that game immensely: everything about it is wonderful. I chose a male Inquisitor - as a rogue - because I wanted to romance Dorian. The first time I played DAI, it was the female elf Lavellen – whom I named Zephyra – and she was a mage, and the romance with Solas was a bloody disaster & heartbreaking. (Damn you, Solas!) The second time I played as the human female Trevelyan – named Bryony (who you have seen me do two fanarts of) – a warrior, and romanced Cullen. (Cullen is so hot for a video game character…where can I find a man like that? Lol.) I hope you like this artwork!

Also: Happy Pride Month! 🌈 It’s actually a perfect time to submit this artwork. This was a lot of fun to create (a full colour piece). If you haven’t played the Dragon Age games, it is actually very LGBTQ friendly. You can make your characters gay, lesbian, or bisexual. There is even a transgender male in DAI, named Krem, who is a cool character. Bioware is open-minded, that’s for sure, so the DA series is for everybody. And omg, let me tell you that the conversations & bantering between the characters is hilarious!

⚠️Warning: Spoilers Ahead!⚠️

Dorian is quite the character…a sarcastic & witty lad. He is complex at first, especially regarding his history (how his father tried to “erase” who he truly was, when it came to his homosexuality). It was fun romancing him with Cedric (Trevelyan), who I made a rouge/assassin. So off course I had to draw my OC [male] Cedric Trevelyan with Dorian! Cedric is Dorian’s “Amatus”. I made them wear simpler outfits when I drew them, because near the end of the game, they were wearing complex armour. That stuff is hard to draw! I chose to draw Lilies by Cedric & Dorian, because if you romance Dorian, his tarot card shows him holding what looks like a Lily.

The two of them had this conversation near the end of the Trespasser DLC:

Cedric: “Whatever happens, I wouldn’t trade the years we’ve had together for anything. I love you.”

Dorian: “I knew you would break my heart, you bloody bastard.”

Lol! Awww, jeez, Dorian, just say you love my Inquisitor, too. I honestly really think that Dorian loved him, as stubborn as he was to admit it. At first I was annoyed when Dorian chose to go back to Trevinter, and I thought, “Darn you, don’t you dare pull a Solas on my Inquisitor, after all you've gone through with him!” However, after the game ends, it tells you what happens to the characters (depending on your choices). For me, the game said that Dorian’s “greatest strength lay in the lover he left in the south, but still conversed with via message crystal”, and “some claimed to have seen the Inquisitor on the streets on Minrathos on rare occasions, sneaking into the heart of Trevinter to aid his Amatus.” It made me happy to know that the Inquisitor and Dorian stayed together. I wonder if that will show up with the 4th game.

⚠️Spoilers Over!⚠️

Speaking of the 4th game, who is excited to Dragon Age: The Veilguard, to be released later this year? I watched the gameplay trailer and I am excited for it! I hope characters from DAI will be in it (so far, Varric & Solas have been shown).

Drawn with sepia Sakura Pigma Micron pens, then coloured in with a mixture of Copic Markers, Ohuhu Markers, & Zenacolor coloured pencils. White accents done with a Sakura gel pen & the gold accents were done with Golden brand acrylic paint.

Dragon Age Inquisition/Dorian Pavus/Inquisitor Trevelyan © Bioware & Electronic Arts

Artwork © of me, Jacqueline E. McNeese

[the-s1lly-corner]

I’ve got one more request in my brain and then I’ll stop for a while…maybe

So this one is an solo? I.H.A where y/n is doing stand up! Halfway through Jax is egging on reader and going “boo get off the stage” which causes y/n to stop and rail into Jax in the vein of “that’s why yo mama dead” this goes on for 10 minuets, everyone shocked and Caine’s jaw in the earth. Then y/n drops the mic and walks off. If it’s possible could I also add the others reaction to this? Thanks! ❤️❤️ ps your writing is great

Stand up Comedy where you get back at a rude audience member

wasnt too sure what to name this since its not exactly a shipping thing, maybe, i think... i dunno!! this post may be a little short, may not be, we shall see! erm!! warning i do not have good humor i think, like i am unfunny finally getting to requests for today; took me a little longer than usual since i went out to go get some breakfast and i threw together some dough for cinnamon rolls today also gentle reminder ! currently requests are closed so i can catch up on my inbox and take a short break! i dont have a set time for them to open again, but i aim to reopen in a few days! any new requests sent in will be void; its nothing against you my inbox is just flooded rn and i need to empty it out </3

caine thought it would be a good idea for you guys to do a little comedy night; be it for bonding or for entertainment you werent sure

however throughout the night, jax was calling out to whoever was on stage and trying to either steal their show or simply being mean

so far, pomni had gone (who froze up on stage the second the lights were on her), gangle (poor girl was bullied off stage by jax), kinger (who just rambled about cool bug facts)

needless to say so far the night was a bit of a disaster

currently, zooble was up on stage, not even making an attempt to do jokes. any jokes they did make were a bit on the darker side; and of course, jax was loudly cutting in

"you know what? <> this!" zooble drops the prop mic and storms off the stage, the air being a tense afterwards

you feel caine nudging your side, alerting you that you were up next

you internally sighed, you really didnt want to do this, in fact it seemed like just about everyone didnt want to do this

jax immediately started on his bullshit before you even had a chance to open your mouth, already booing. from on the stage you could see ragatha giving him a look

you tried to begin again, before jax made a comment on how quiet you were

"oh course you'd know about sound, seriously have you seen how big your feet are? you slap the floor instead of stomping"

silence

zooble lets out a choked laugh, and you can see caine jerk forward as he tried to contain a surprised laugh

jax narrows his eyes, and he opened he mouth

"hang on wait when was the last time you brushed your teeth? i mean come on man, youre teeth are yellow. maybe the reason no ones been laughing is because theyre choking from how bad your breath smells"

gangle holds her hands over her mouth, seemingly in shock. kingers eyes darted between you and jax, and pomni held a similar expression to gangle... jax, of course, was fuming, trying to rattle off a come back, ultimately failing and stammering that his teeth are meant to be that color

you had to admit, it was odd seeing jax finally being knocked down a peg, but it was satisfying in its own way

you kind of ragged on him for another minute before seeing yourself off stage

the entire room was silent

caine pulled his lower jaw off the floor, and regained himself, before letting jax know it was his turn up next

tonight was going to be a long night...

[vierlieben]

Hair Clips.

Kang Yeosang x f!reader

genre: fluff

wc: ??

a/n: mweheheh i just felt like this is something that he'd do :[ i love this man so much

since you and your fiance, yeosang moved in together, you can't help but to notice how plain your hair looks without the colorful clips that you used to put all over it. it's such a disaster for you—you accidentally left it in your old apartment and when you came back to get them, it's all gone. you even tried looking through yeosang's luggages but it wasn't there either. the landlord must have got it, you thought.

it's been just a week. you love those hair clips but you couldn't go out to buy new ones because you were busy with the wedding planning and everything, especially arranging the furnitures and other stuff in your new home.

everytime you'd look at a mirror and see how plain you look because of the missing pieces that are supposed to be clipped to your hair, you can't seem to smile. it's not that you're just being so dramatic or something, it's just because you've been wearing and loving them since you were little. that's what people loved about you; you always look adorable, even at this age.

now it feels like something as a big piece of your personality is missing. you just couldn't wait to have more free time and spend the whole day shopping for new hair clips and accessories.

"hi," you felt yeo's arms wrapped around your upper body while looking at yourself in the mirror. "can't get enough of looking at your own beautiful face?"

his sweetness made you blush. but that's way far from what you are really thinking about.

"no.. i really miss putting on hair clips. i look like a whole different person." you said with a sad tone, which touched his heart.

and he knows how much you love putting on those cute hair clips as well. most of the time, even when he's running late at work, he'd put it on you and flash the sweetest smile ever while staring at your pretty face. sometimes, he'd let you put it on him too and take pictures!

"well, say no more," he whispered and smooched your left cheek.

you got confused as his right arm unclasped from your upper body and reached something from his pocket. it was something pink and purple—and your eyes automatically shined as yeosang clipped it to your hair.

it is a...

... a goddamn hair clip. and he got it for you.

well, it's not like it's the first time that he ever got new ones for you. it's just... it feels different at this moment because you missed him doing it for you and you definitely missed something being clipped onto your hair.

the hair clips just kept coming out from his pocket and getting on your hair. a smile is painted on his pretty face while doing it, admiring your cute expression; you feel like you're about to cry.

you turned your head to see your reflection again when he finished putting it on for you. you missed seeing your hair having these cute clips ...

"oh, god.." was all you can say. ".. i so love you, baby."

he once again wrapped his arms around you tightly, giving you more cheek smooches. "we'll get more once we're done doing stuff here, alright?"

you nodded and kissed him back. "thank you, baby. you're so sweet."

"i sure am," he tightened the hug for a second. "hug me back, please?"

you turned around and did as what he said. the both of you wished that this moment could last longer.