#i am so sorry for just going radio silent

[inavagrant-a]

Fighting with the IR/S over money you could have sworn you paid them a month ago is the most stressful fucking thing I have ever done in my life.

[pyrothecary]

hey gamers if you're here from tgp holy SHIT i'm so sorry. i have actually a negative amount of updates i'm currently in the process of replotting it because the story i had before got so unnecessarily complex, there were like 10 subplots and i'll be honest it just sucked ass. so i'm simplifying and starting from scratch

[eriophorumcallitrix]

ignore this post I’m venting my disappointment in the tags abt twitter LMFAOOO

[fern-fully]

I've been workin on a teeny space roguelike in my off-time. It doesn't have any massive formula-changing mechanics or anything like that, but I have had a lot of fun tinkering on it!

It has the typical roguelike pieces (procgen, tile-based movement, permadeath, etc.) The basic idea in my head is that you're a scrapper in deep space, dismantling derelict spacecraft and abandoned bases for cash. I have some ideas for neat things I could add as time goes on but for now it's just a little fun project to work on when I have enough time outside of my day job.

(The noise/screen filter is toggleable in the settings!)

[gghostwriter]

Out of Sunshine

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Having forgotten your dinner date, Spencer comforts his usually sunshine girlfriend Trope:Fluff & Comfort w.c: 1.2k a/n: been very overwhelmed with responsibilities and wants lately that I just needed to write a self-indulgent fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Spencer’s knock on your apartment door was met with silence. It was a starry Friday night and he had arranged a dinner reservation with you, his girlfriend for a year and a half, to the newly opened French restaurant along the main street. With a certain spring in his step, he settled with Hotch, and by extension the team, that he couldn’t be disturbed unless an emergency case comes in—something he silently wished not to happen. He had also picked up a bouquet of your favorites from the local florist. An array of whites that reminded him of the dress he first saw you wearing at the park.

He knocked again, ears straining to hear anything behind the dark wooden door. There was nothing. He balanced the bouquet on one hand and reached for the phone inside his satchel. It was quite unlike you to not answer the door.

The number you dialed is either unattended—

“Strange,” he muttered under his breath. During his morning phone call with you, a much needed routine to tide him through the macabre of his job, you sounded so excited about the dinner he’d planned and had even promised to wear the same white dress that had plagued his eidetic memory. He chuckled in reply before asking any plans for the day. There was a slight pause on your end, no doubt thinking of ways to pass time before night winds down, and you answer—

The studio, he remembered. You mentioned passing by your art studio to occupy time. He sighed in relief as he enters his vintage blue car parked on the the sidewalk, bouquet placed securely on the passenger seat. The clock on the dashboard tells him there’s still time to make it to the reservation, granted he wasn’t sure if you were ready to go.

A non-descriptive tune played from the radio as he turned left to enter the designated parking space of your studio building. It was a mixture of soft piano keys that sounded like spring and sunshine, both adjectives he loved to use to describe you.

When he finally found the courage to fumble his way in asking for your number, the smile that flashed on your face was blinding. It was as if he stared directly into the sun with little to no protection for his vision.

Over the course of multiple dates, he found himself waxing prose about you in his head. The pinking of your cheeks reminded him of strawberries ripening, so tempting to touch with his own pair of lips. The twinkle in your eyes, full of adoration and trust, made him feel strong and protective—like he was some kind of crow guarding his loot of sparkling treasure. And the bounce in your step wherever you’d go had him envisioning a sprig of wildflowers growing from each footprint, the nymph of his very own Spring.

He let himself in the studio, grateful you’ve trusted him with a spare key. “Sunshine,” he called out.

The light inside the four cornered room was on, windows all open for the paint fumes to escape, and there you were, hunched over an easel, furiously painting without any care of your surroundings.

He called your name, softer this time, as if to slowly ease you out of the artistic trance. The timber of his voice and his sudden presence led you to squeak in surprise, paintbrush dropping on the wooden streaked floor.

“It’s me, sunshine,” he raised his hands in front of him in surrender. “It’s me.”

Your nose scrunched up in question, a streak of blue dried paint on your cheek, adorable. How adorable you were in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you bent down to grab the brush before resuming your old position.

“It’s 7:50, love.”

You swiveled to face him, eyes wide in distress. Hands promptly reaching to turn over the faced down phone. “No, no—oh my god, I am so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he tries to placate you but his words of comfort seem to fall on deaf ears. “Really, it’s alright. It happens to everyone.”

Tears were starting to build up in your eyes. Your hands were wrangling with the apron tied around your waist as you mutter a series of apologies again and again. “I’m sorry. So sorry—we can’t make it to our reservation now, can’t we? Spence, I’m so so sorry. I—I forgot,” a sob escaped from your throat. “I don’t know what to do.”

He puts down the flowers on the nearest available space, your stool, and steps into your space. Filling it with his perfume and warmth meant to comfort you. He could see how distressed you were—rocking on your heels, hands unable to stay put, and lower lip sandwiched in between your pearly teeth.

“Breathe. It’s completely fine, love. No harm done. Really, it’s alright.”

The tears come rushing down, staining your flushed cheeks with its tracks. “It’s not—how could I forget?”

“Sunshine, it’s okay. It happens to all of us and I know you’re quite busy, it’s understandable.”

You burrow into his chest some more, afraid of separating from him and the haven he brings.

He continued on. “I also know you’re overwhelmed, the exhibit is just around the corner and I know how important it is to you, I understand.”

Laying your cheek near his beating heart, you mutter a reply. “It’s really not—I don’t want you to think you’re not important to me too.”

His hands cupped your face to stare into your saddened eyes. Spencer couldn’t see the warmth and brightness that was always present in his sunshine. There was a cloud of rain and doubt covering its’ greatness. He understood no one could always be happy all the time but it bothered him to see you breaking down from stress.

“Shouldn’t I be the one worried about that?” he lightly joked. “I’ve cancelled on dates so many times and did those ever make you feel less important to me?”

“No. Never,” you sniffled.

“Then what makes you say I’d think that, sunshine? I would never, I promise.”

The corners of your lips lifted up to a small smile. There it was, the rays of sun peeking behind the clouds, bringing warmth back to the dark crevices of his being.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” your lower lip jutting out in a pout. The air of anxiety slowly dissipating around you.

Spencer laughed, noting the tear stained marks littered on his purple button down. “That’s alright. Why don’t we order from your favorite Indian place down the block? We can get your favorites and have our dinner date here instead?”

“You’d be okay with that?”

He leaned in to kiss your temples, taking in the twinkle back in your eyes framed by your wet long lashes and the flush on your cheeks from emotion—good and bad.

For Spencer, you had never looked more beautiful. The reason behind of your breakdown was raw, intimate, and it made him see you in a new light. Heat bloomed in his chest, like a series of red roses, filled with love for you.

“Anywhere with you is good for me, sunshine.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[qwimchii]

i was hoping to put forward a request, if that’s okay? 👉🏻👈🏻 angst (or hurt/comfort?) and smut with ghost? and i’m totally not projecting here but — reader has a hard time finishing, either by themselves or with someone? and when they’re with someone, they get so worried about taking too long and not being able to finish or even feeling good and they apologize for taking too long and it dissolves into them crying and apologizing more and mentioning how they think they’re broken and there’s something wrong with them and it kinda makes them think ghost will leave for someone else because that’s what everyone else has done and basically just ghost being soft and sweet and understanding and taking his time with reassurance and praise and yeah… gonna go hide now 🥲

𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘤 — 5k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥…

note: omllllll!!!! 💞 i am so sorry for taking so long to write this request but this is so sweet and cute 😭 thank you sm for requesting!! ><

pt 2, pt 3

Simon Riley had been your boyfriend for maybe a month now. or maybe two weeks. or maybe three months, you decided finally, sipping your water with closed eyes, willing the frustrated bounce of your knee to settle.

of course, picking your head up and looking at the entrance of the restaurant one last time, that frustration redoubled, and you watched your knee bounce with a mind of its own.

setting the drink back on its coaster, you drew random patterns into the floral tablecloth with a pout. Simon had chosen this restaurant. Simon had initiated communication with you—mindblowing as it was—just last night when you were scrolling through instagram in bed. 

the notification had ballooned over a post of an old friend from college traveling in europe, and immediately, you had squealed, pressing your phone to your chest to stop the race of your thrumming heart. you made yourself count out two minutes—at least two, before you responded.

— Dinner tmrw at the diner on 6th ave?

— sure!! good to hear from you :))

— what time??

— 7.

it was curt, it was short, it was sweet, but it gave you all the motivation you needed to power through the day and weasel your way into the diner, earlier to the occasion than usual. now, it was half past seven. now, you were playing with the tablecloth of the booth and feeling stupid and sorry for yourself.

stupid because you had sorely missed Simon since he went radio silent for over a month. sorry for yourself because you had thought you were at least close enough for him to text you beforehand.

definitively, you knew you had met the brit five months ago when he moved into the empty apartment adjacent to your own. he crowded every entrance he stood in, so massive and hulking when the elevator doors that you startled with a squeak, dropping the cardboard box and all the items scattering out over the carpet floor.

you had flushed with embarrassment, whole body heating up as you scrambled to stuff all the items back into the box with a string of apologies. he had dropped to your side without a word, putting back a pair of socks, your old band t-shirt from high school, and tennis shoes that had gone gray with discoloration. he hadn’t even bothered to one-over your personal items, but you were scrambling for an explanation anyway.

“donations for vets,” you said with nervous laughter. “i donate every year.”

“vets?” he reiterated, and you looked up into his face, eyeing the black surgical mask on his face carefully, brown eyes a murky kind of gray-ish beneath blonde eyebrows and his hood drawn up above that. 

“mhmm,” you squeaked, suddenly wary of the stranger in front of you.

when he said nothing more, you asked him, “any veterans in the family?”

then he just stared at you and you blushed, feeling stupid for saying anything at all but—

“my grandfather,” he said slowly. “and my great grandfather.”

“nice,” you choked out, unsure what to say as you searched the carpet of the last of your remnants.

then, he added, “i’m in the military as well.”

just when you were about to bolt, intimidated by the sheer size of him and his eerie unfamiliar presence in your apartment complex, it was like he read your mind to introduce himself.

“Simon Riley. new neighbor.”

you nodded slowly, giving him your name back and edging your fingers under the cardboard box, heaving it up into your arms.

“nice to meet you,” you said, giving him a weak smile from over the top of the box. he tilted his head at you, eyes flitting from the box to you.

when a prolonged silence ensued, you turned on your heel and stepped toward the elevator before you jerked around again.

“thank you for your service,” you squeaked, scurrying toward the elevator and feeling awkward when he just watched you from the hallway. you waved as the doors closed, watching him slip his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

with one long look, he turned and prowled down the hallway.

that was five months ago. two months later, after endless awkward encounters of wordless greetings with him, the plumbing in your bathroom sink had exploded, flooding the floor in a puddle of water and spraying over the front of your white dress.

in a panic, you went to your next door neighbor Simon who opened the door upon your third set of rapid knocks.

you looked up to his massive form in the entrance, suddenly aware of how the front of your soaked dress had become sheer when you asked him to help you. 

he helped. and then you asked him to get drinks at the bar around the corner as a thank you. then when that became a regular occurrence, things just got more confusing.

it felt exclusive. maybe. you thought it felt exclusive when a man approached you in the bar, gearing up for a casual conversation with a sly smirk, but Simon was always at your back in an instant, a large, warm hand on your waist and his words in your ear.

she’s taken.

your mind spun after the first time it happened. taken?

whirling around on your heel after the man left with a low grumble and scowl, Simon just blinked down at you from behind his surgical mask, squeezing your waist with both hands before he was sinking back down into his seat, hulking as he leaned over the bar.

when the same happened a few more times, you didn’t question it, thinking it was maybe just a perk of the friendship. he staves off a couple creepy men at the bar and you pay for drinks. 

or at least that’s how you thought it worked until he started sliding his card across the counter to the bartender to claim the tab before you could even get a word out.

you were especially confused when he knocked at your apartment door one night. you opened it to find him void of the hoodie usually slung up and over his head, blonde hair hanging down his forehead, and a black shirt in its place. that’s when you saw the thick black ink winding down the tattoo sleeve of his arm, and your eyes darted over it with a blush, before you were inviting him in.

he had smelled something baking, he clarified, craning his neck into the kitchen. that made you giddy because you hadn’t taken him for someone nosy, but you entertained it nonetheless, assuming he just had an insatiable sweet tooth for cookies.

another part of you hoped he just had a sweet tooth for you.

then the baking became a regular occurrence. you’d bake him all sorts of sweets while he watched you from the little table in your kitchen, staring from behind that black mask of his while you prattled about your day and he took it all in silently. somewhere along the way, after so many nights of him chewing behind the mask, he ditched it completely, and you could watch him devour your brownies in a few bites without the annoying fabric in the way.

the new schedule had become very regular until it was baking night and he didn’t show up to your door. rolling the tenseness from your shoulders, you sent him a quick text, saying you would bring over the sweets in the morning to his apartment.

when he didn’t respond to that, a little nervous bubble of anxiety rooted in your chest. you found out from your landlord days later that Simon would be away for work, and that hurt more than you wanted it to. if he had taken the time to at least notify your landlord, he could’ve done the same for you… couldn’t he?

unless he didn’t think about you that way. but you were so sure—from the quick glances you shared, his gentle touches as he brushed past you in your kitchen, or the possessive grip on your waist at the bar, or just the way he was so relaxed around you meant something.

those were your thoughts that ran in circles as you sat at the diner booth. the waiter checked on your table every once and a while, sending you nervous glances ever since you said that you had a date… or a friend. or something like that.

you felt stupid for accepting Simon’s proposal so quickly, even after he had ghosted you for weeks. even then, you had dolled yourself up anyways, picking out the new dress you got last weekend and doing your hair and makeup. you buried your face in your hands, not looking up when you heard the chime of the diner opening.

when you heard a familiar, low and grating accent, your head snapped up to see Simon standing by the entrance and talking to the waiter, gesturing to you as the waiter just nodded.

Simon strode over to you, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and dressed in his military fatigues, half his face behind in a black surgical mask.

you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you when you reached your senses, heart soaring as you scrambled to stand. your hands twitched against the table when he stopped in front of you, dropping his duffle bag to the floor.

had he come straight from the airport? for you? you felt like your mind was spinning, but you forced it to still, desperately not wanting to jump to any strange conclusions…

swallowing down your thoughts, you said slowly, “it’s been a while.”

looking up into his murky brown eyes had never been so comforting.

“it has,” he affirmed, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.

for a long moment, you both just stood there in silence, staring at each other and unsure what to do.

eyes darting down to his torso, you could feel the warmth of his body in the close proximity, and you felt so tempted to just touch him.

you outstretched a hand to brush over his clothing, and when he didn’t move away, you pressed your knuckles into his abdomen, amazed to feel him solid and real. then you wrapped yourself around his torso, giving him a tight hug, cheek pressed against his strong chest.

immediately, he engulfed you, squeezing you back.

“missed you,” you admitted, screwing your eyes shut.

you felt his nose press into the crown of your hair. “m’sorry m’late, love.” 

“s’fine,” you sniffled, feeling stupid when tears pricked up in your eyes. when you pulled back, you swiped at them with the back of your hand, startled when he reached forward to brush his fingers across your wet cheeks, squishing the chub of your face lightly.

he looked at you with such a softness that you almost melted, feeling nervous because you had never seen him look at you like that before.

then, as you both slid into the booth, you chided him in between sniffles, “don’t do that to me again.”

don’t leave me in the dark again, was what you meant, and you knew he understood what you meant when he nodded curtly.

the dinner went smoothly. more than you could imagine. or maybe you were just overwhelmed with the exhausting joy that Simon was still just the same since before he left two months ago—lowly grunted non-verbal responses as he munched on a platter of fish and chips, stealing a couple of your fries after he devoured his plate at a startling pace, and some rumbles of half-sentences, leaning on his elbow as he watched you ramble with excitement and sip on your milkshake every now and then.

when you accidentally got a smidge of whipped cream on your nose, he reached across the table to wipe it off, cutting through your words mid-sentence. you thanked him with a blush, shifting over the booth, just blushing harder when your shoes knocked against his under the table.

leaving felt smooth too—walking back to the apartment complex just a couple blocks away. even in the darkness of the night, you felt safe tucked near his side, enjoying his presence so close to your side and feeling disappointed when you reached the hallway you shared in the apartment complex.

he stopped by your door and you fumbled with your dress, struggling for words.

“come inside,” you offered, though it sounded more like a plea. your eyes flitted from his face to the duffle bag on his shoulder, hands twisting into the fabric of your dress.

“i know you must be tired but—”

“m’not,” he assured, squaring his shoulders. you nodded dumbly.

“i can bake brownies?” you squeaked, and he blinked down at you.

“s’reason why i’m here, love.”

at that you blushed, opening the apartment and throwing your jacket on the couch, moving to rifle through the kitchen.

“it won’t take long i promise,” you called from behind the fridge door, snatching the butter and eggs from it.

closing the door to turn to the counter, you jolted when Simon materialized beside you, boots, mask, and the jacket of his fatigues off, reaching above you to open a cabinet. your eyes darted over the ink designs of his muscled arm.

“flour and sugar’s here, right?” he asked, and you squeaked a yes, ducking beneath his arm to put the butter and eggs on the counter before grabbing a mixing bowl and baking pan from a lower cabinet.

once all the necessary items were strewn across the counter, you measured out the dry ingredients, dumping them into the mixing bowl. beside you, Simon leaned back against the edge of the kitchen sink, arms crossed as he watched you.

you were hyper-aware of his presence, hands jittery, confused because he always sat at the kitchen table to watch you. he never got this close and personal, uncrossing his arms to slide a hand over the counter right by where your hip leaned against it.

from your peripheral, you glanced at him, finding him already staring down at you.

“can i help?” he asked, voice gruff, and you turned your head to stare at him in dismay. this was new. very new.

“sure,” you choked out, scooting over so he could help you measure out the ingredients. he filled the space easily, arm pressed against yours in the little space.

you blushed. this was very very new.

he cracked an egg on the edge of the bowl, and you watched the yellow glop plop into the flour.

playing off the whole situation as a joke, you laughed nervously as you mixed the wet ingredients into the bowl. “miss my baking that much?”

you bit down on your lip, unable to look at him, just focusing on the churn of brown batter in the mixing bowl. when you felt him lean in, his strong bicep against yours, you muffled a yelp.

“‘course.”

“really?” you asked, pouring the batter into the greased up pan.

for good measure, you dipped a finger into the batter and tasted it, eyes flickering up to Simon. it was sweet.

he stared down at you, an imperceptible, dark look on his face as he leaned over and dipped his thumb into the batter, then swiped the gooey brown substance over your cheek.

“oops.” there was a smugness in his voice that his face smothered, expression blank when he gripped your jaw tight. 

you gasped when he turned your face and leaned down to lick you.

the textured muscle of his tongue pressed into the curve of your flesh, licking away the sweet taste from your cheek.

then, he leaned back with a hum. “i like sweet things.”

you clutched at his wrist keeping your jaw firmly in place, wide-eyed and heart beating out of your chest. you watched his finger dip back in the batter and reached up to your lips, spreading the sugary sweet batter over your lower lip.

you squeaked, unable to look anywhere but his bare face, rugged and handsome in the low light.

“may i?” he asked, eyes flitting down to your lips, and you couldn’t even nod in his hold, just a low, breathy yes on your lips that he swallowed, tongue sucking the traces of batter on your lips. 

you whimpered into his mouth, clutching at his shirt as he angled your head with a soft touch, sliding his hand on your jaw to your neck, just resting there. that spurred on a familiar burn in your stomach, and you squirmed in his hold.

when he leaned back, you were breathless and panting with flushed cheeks.

“sweet,” he rasped, like he was approving the taste as he licked over his lips.

from that point on, you didn’t really remember how you got to your bedroom, Simon’s hands edging up the hem of your dress beneath him, knuckles drawing a warm trail up to your hips as he sucked on the skin of your neck.

the only thing you could do was whine and squirm under his weight, legs and arms pinning you down as he did what he liked, giving you sweet kisses that made you feel all hazy.

you watched his head dip beneath the fabric of your dress and you gasped when you felt his lips against your thighs, skipping where you needed him most, and then against your stomach and the flesh of your breasts.

and all throughout the pleasurable haze, your fingers curled into the sheets, nails digging into the bed because you were beyond nervous.

you knew this would happen eventually—that Simon would end up in your bed or the other way around. kissing him was a dream. having him caging you against the bed with his heady weight was a dream.

sliding a hand over his back, his rushed movements slowed against your skin, taking the time to suck carefully around your pebbled nipples that had your hips bucking up with a whimper.

your mind spun. but you were so nervous.

it was all you could think about as he descended back down between your thighs, both of his big arms curling around your thighs to lock you in place against the bed.

words rung your mind loud and clear—what the hell is wrong with you?

when Simon dipped a thumb beneath the top of your panties, the words shook you again.

what the hell is wrong with you?

you hadn’t even noticed how still and quiet you had grown until his head perked up between your thighs, pupils blown wide. he swiped a thumb over the soaking entrance of your panties, drawing a whimper from your throat.

“what is it?” he asked, voice so throaty and rough that you shivered with want. you had wanted this for so long.

“nothing,” you whispered, tugging his head back down between your thighs, but he didn’t budge, frowning at you.

“tell me,” he probed, “m’not touchin’ you if you don’t, sweet thing.”

sweet thing.

swallowing hard, you shifted against the bed. “m’just nervous.”

“yeah?” he stroked the plush, soft skin of your inner thigh, before pressing his lips to it. “don’t worry. i’ll make you feel good.”

you nodded, biting down on your lip, though his words didn’t quell any of the raging anxiety thrumming within your chest, even when he kissed the wet fabric stretched over your cunt, nosing through your folds and his hot breath against you.

lifting up your hips with ease, he tugged a pillow beneath you.

“comfy?” he asked, hooking two fingers beneath your panties and sliding it down your thighs.

“uh-huh,” you gasped, back arching when he ducked between your legs and pressed the pink muscle of his tongue flat against your cunt.

“good,” he grunted against you, pecking your swollen clit before swirling his tongue around it, and building a steady, delicious pace that had you hiccuping moans.

your hands snaked through his hair, gripping the blonde curls tight and pulling, startling when he groaned in response, the tremors going straight from the back of his throat and into your clit.

you ground against his face and he purred in approval. “tha’s it, sweet thing.” 

you took the pleasure and rode it, pushing yourself further and further to the edge, or at least you thought you were, seeing no end in sight for the sensations wracking your body. every passing moment felt too long, and you could practically feel the irritation roiling off Simon in waves.

even though you couldn’t see his face, just could hear his soft noises of approval against your cunt, it was like you knew he was growing impatient.

frustrated, you huffed a whine, that anxiety in your chest squashing half the pleasurable experience. he reached up and pressed down on the lower part of your tummy, intensifying it all over again, making you gasp as your head fell back.

“relax,” he mumbled, playing with your clit as he pressed his tongue into your cunt, humming as he tasted you.

it was overwhelming. too overwhelming, and you couldn’t help the tears that pricked up in your eyes as you were torn between finishing and feeling good and pleasing Simon and—

a little sob broke from your throat, and he went still between your legs.

you covered your face with your hands, digging your palms into your eyes and muffled the sounds falling from your lips.

why were you crying?

brows pinched together, you scrunched up your face. “sorry, sorry, just keep going—”

you cut off when a sob choked your throat, refusing to look at Simon and withering when he stayed silent, feeling really fucking stupid as you just cried in the bed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whimpered, feeling him tug your dress back down over your thighs and hike your panties back up your hips.

you expected him to leave, ready to feel the weight of him against you on the bed disappear, and his heavy footsteps through the apartment, then the slam of the door behind him.

and you did—the dip in the bed lifted and you heard his footsteps edge around the bed.

then, you gasped when he slid into the bed beside you, arm circling beneath your waist and pulling you flush to his chest, breath right against your ear.

“what’s wrong, sweet thing?” he sighed, though it didn’t sound irritated, just tired as he sunk into the bed beside you.

your breath stilled, the cries dying in your throat as you twisted to look back at him. his gaze was soft as he peered over your shoulder, squeezing you between both arms.

“what?” you croaked, and he leaned over you to press a kiss to your cheek, squishing you into the bed.

“what’s wrong?” he repeated, thumb drawing circles against your clothed tummy.

“nothing,” you said, and he made a low noise of disapproval, pressing his face against the side of your head.

clutching at his arms holding your waist, caging you to him, you choked out the words. 

“i just…” you turned your head from him, tears spilling from your eyes and onto the sheets. “i wanna be good for you.”

he hummed against your ear, squeezing you tighter. “you are so good for me, love.”

“no, i meant…” you huffed, sniffling with a frustrated sound in the back of your throat.

“i take too long,” you squeaked, avoiding his eyes. “there’s something wrong with me.”

a sob pierced your chest. “i think i’m broken.”

you turned in his arms and buried your face in his chest, embarrassed as you soaked his shirt with tears, muffled the sharp noises of your throat against his solid body. he curled around you, hand rubbing down your back.

“who put those ideas in your pretty head?”

his voice was deceptively soft, though you heard the threat that lay under it, and you shivered.

“my ex boyfriend.”

his body went tense against you.

“look at me luvie.”

you lifted your head and let him kiss you, tasting salty and sweet from the slick of you still in his mouth, as he brushed away the tears on your face.

when he pulled back and you looked over the curves of his face, the depth of his dark eyes, you admitted to him softly, “i don’t want you to leave me.”

it was such a small whimper that you don’t think he would’ve heard you, but from the way his face crunched into a frown you knew that he had.

“m’not going anywhere,” he promised, pushing the hair from your forehead. “m’right here.”

you whimpered, pulling him back down for a kiss that was wet and hot, teeth knocking against yours when he pressed you further into the bed.

“lemme make you feel good,” he whispered, and you clutched at his arm wound tight around your waist, the other creeping up to cup your breast.

“please,” you whimpered, and he hummed into your lips.

“when’s the last time you touched yourself?” he asked, lips trailing down to your neck, his large hand edging down to brush over your pelvis.

“long time,” you squeaked, gasping when his hand snuck beneath your dress, rucking it up so it pooled around your waist.

“c-can’t do it myself,” you admitted, screwing your eyes shut when his fingers slipped beneath the band of your panties. “doesn’t feel good.”

“yeah? bet your ex couldn’t make you feel good either,” he mumbled, either to you or yourself you couldn’t tell, mind dizzy and somewhere up high when his forefinger gently brushed over the shell of your clit. “bet your he didn’t even know how to touch a woman. how to make her cum.”

you whimpered, hips bucking into his hand, and you could feel him smile against your neck.

“s’okay, baby. i’ll make you cum.”

his fingers circled your swollen clit, other hand fondling the sensitive plush of your tits. as you squirmed against his touch, little breathy noises leaving your lips, you could feel his hard cock pressing into the curve of your ass. you whimpered at the sheer size of it.

“please, Simon,” you gasped, clutching at his wrist as he played and flicked at your clit, speeding up then slowing down and dragging you through a slew of different body wracking sensations, leaving you so whiney and sensitive that your thighs started to shake and twitch.

your ex boyfriend had never given you so much attention like this—just honing in on his own pleasure, degrading you when you tried to chase your own. it became something you dreaded. something you didn’t want and forced yourself through, faking orgasms and artificial, pitched moans.

it was so different from Simon that you felt delirious, blissed out as real, loud whines broke through your throat, riding his hand just wanting more and more.

“more,” you sobbed, burying your face into the sheets, jolting when he played and pinched at your swollen nipples.

“want you to cum on my hand first, sweet thing,” he whispered, and you almost cried real tears.

he huffed a laugh into your ear.

“feel that good?” he cooed, and you nodded against the sheets, wiggling your hips in his hand.

“c-can’t,” you whined, shivering when he made a noise of disapproval.

“yes you can,” he said, low and throaty, licking over your ear. “i don’t care how long it takes, baby. i can play with this pretty cunt all night.”

you moaned, grinding down into his hand, eyes rolling back into your head as he abused your clit, crushing it beneath his fingers.

“you’re gonna cum on my hand, and then i’m gonna stretch you out with my fingers, yeah? then you’re gonna cum on my fingers, and i’m gonna fuck two more orgasms out of you. how does that sound, sweet thing?”

“Simon—” you choked, whole body going still when you finally reached a sharp peak, shaking and twitching and moaning softly through your whole orgasm that made you see a blinding white.

he groaned in your ear, so filled with pleasure it sounded like he came alongside you.

“there you go, baby, good girl. so good f’me.”

your hearing felt muffled when you resurfaced, blinking your eyes open, sleepy and muscles lax against the bed. he was petting at your naval, peppering little kisses and kitten licks along your neck and shoulders.

“see? that wasn’t so hard, luvie,” he whispered in your ear, making a shiver slither down your spine.

“mhmm,” was all you could get out, pliable as he slipped from your side and moved you to your back, tipping your knees open as he dove between your legs.

you looked down, watching him drink up the cum from your pussy, slurping loudly and sucking on your twitchy clit, your hips squirming in his hold. 

“so sweet,” he practically growled, and you whined in response, trying to push his head away.

when he finally relented, he sat back, licking over his lips before tugging the shirt over his head. in the dim lighting, you could see scars littered over him, naval blessed with dark hair and a toned stomach that made your mouth water.

“think you can do that four more times, baby?”

when you shook your head, he only smirked, crawling back over you and pressing the crotch of his fatigues against your sopping pussy, grinding his painfully hard, big cock against your aching entrance.

“yes you can,” he said, low and throaty. “m’gonna make you, sweet thing. you’re gonna be coming on this cock all night long.”

taglist: @ivybeeloved

[potofsoup]

i love your fourth of july comics every year but this years feels extremely optimistic about biden’s abilities in the face of him letting roe get overturned and funding a gen*cide at worst or letting it happen at best by taking the bare minimum of regulatory action… i mean can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands? and how do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?

Hihi! Thank you for reading and enjoying my July 4th comics every year! I am in a non-US airport en route to a month-long trip in a place with sketchy internet, so sorry in advance for sloppiness in my response (and potentially going radio silent).

But:

I don't think he "let" Roe get overturned, since that was the Supreme Court's overwhelming conservative majority, which really started with Mitch McConnell refusing to approve Obama's appointee and forcing it into a 2016 election issue. The fact that Trump got to appoint 3 Supreme Court Justices is what got us here.

Re: Biden and the Israel/Hamas war ... on the one hand, there's definitely more that he could have done, but on the other hand, they are a whole other country over there. It's Hamas that initiated the Oct 7 attacks and took the hostages. It's Netanyahu and his right-wing government who decided to retaliate to such extreme extent. Biden can talk about how he would really like Netanyahu to stop fighting and step down, but at the end of the day that's not his call, any more than he can stop the Sudan fighting that is near-genocidal either.

So, to come to your question #1: "Can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands"?

For me, it's a resounding YES. Guyz, he has passed so much good domestic policies. My spouse works in green energy and the passing of the Inflation Reduction Act halved his anxiety and gave him legitimate hope. The tumblr post I linked to in my comic has links to many of the other great things that Biden has done. Tbh I voted for him in 2020 because "a moldy onion is still better than Trump", and I've been pleasantly surprised. Like how he tried to cancel student loans, the Supreme Court overturned it, and then he came back 6 months later with a different way to do it that didn't lead to a court challenge.

Is he perfect? Hell no. There's tons of stuff that I wish he did more about, or he went further on, but also he's just one guy heading one branch of government who is heading into an election year. (Just like FDR promising not joining WWII, while behind the scenes doing all the Lend-Lease Act stuff). And "the people" have lots of demands, many of them conflicting.

I'd also like to push at the unspoken part of your question... "Can he really be trusted to do the right thing..." compared to whom? Because right now the answer is "compared to Trump." And compared to Trump... I don't even trust Trump to respect the results of a legitimate election. Heck, he might just take his favorite state secrets, sell them to the highest bidder (or just show them off to someone for funzies), and then claim Presidential immunity. A decent Democrat who got stuff done vs someone who probably wants to pardon himself and all his friends and do Project 2025 stuff is not even on the same level. (Do I wish that there was a viable Democratic alternative to Biden? Sure! But who?) Heck, at this point -- imagine if it's Kamala Harris vs. Trump. Who would you vote for?

As for your question #2: "How do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?"

We don't. But also what can we do besides showing up to vote?

Actually, I need bullet points for this:

The 2022 midterm elections brought in fewer-than-expected election-deniers into crucial electoral offices at the state level, which means that hopefully most state electoral boards will continue to have integrity

Yes, voting is harder but at least we can still vote. So it's about getting out there and getting your vote counted. For some states, it involves waiting in 8 hour lines. For some states, it involves bringing 2 forms of ID. Document. Track. Make sure it's dropped off in a real ballot box and not a fake one. Don't believe messaging that the voting is happening on a different day or location, etc.

A 50.1% majority is easily challenged. A 55% majority, less so. Which means getting people out to vote.

The more people know about and think about the reality of a second Trump term (versus being disappointed by a Biden term), the more they will be motivated to vote against Trump.

Finally, let's be real here: I'm braced for a 2nd Trump term. That said:

I'm still going to go and vote for Biden, because the only way to prevent a 2nd Trump term is to vote.

A Trump term where either the House or Senate is controlled by the Democrats will be *very* different from a clean Republican sweep.

Even with a clean Republican sweep on the federal level, States have so much more power now, and voting the state level stuff will help shore up Democratic goals for the future. States get to draw voting districts however they want. States get to decide on abortion policies. If you live in a deep Red state, there still might be things to vote for that make it easier to live in now, and turn it purple a few elections down the line.

So at the end of the day, it's "Vote AND". Vote and keep living your best life. Vote and tell others about Project 2025. Vote and have hope. Even if Trump wins, at least you'll have voted against him. Vote and stay to build up a progressive wave for the next election.

[seungfl0wer]

*Han Calling You Clingy*

Pairing: Han x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol, Reader Gets drunk, Not proof Read

Buckled up for this one yall it hurted me ngl. I also while putting it all together realized i in fact of course messed up a part of the messages. So I am sorry in advance 🥲

This is part of a series. Find the others here:

Bangchan, Changbin, Minho, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

-🩵

Today was Han and yours 3 year anniversary. You had planned a nice dinner and a surprise for him after you both got home. You made reservations at one of his favorite restaurants and even got a new outfit for it. Hans been busy with the new album the last few weeks, he’s been super stressed and you know this would definitely help wind him down a bit.

You had told him a few times about the dinner because he forgets things easily. He was doing some work at the studio right now but he said he’d meet you there for dinner since he had to finish some things up. You put on your cute outfit and got yourself all ready to leave the house. You texted him “I’m leaving the house now! See you soon😘” before heading out.

About 15 mins had passed since you had gotten there for your reservation. You had gotten seated and gotten a drink. You were getting nervous that he had forgotten so you texted him a simple “hey babe did you leave yet?” It was radio silent after another 10 minutes you texted again.

Everything in you wanted to cry I mean you had a few tears but you quickly wiped them away. You sat there for a moment in honest shock of what to do. The love of your life is standing you up, yelling at you and forgot your anniversary. What the actual fuck. You waved the waiter over, got the check for your drink and left. You didn’t wanna go home you wanted to find jisung and punch him in his cute stupid face.

Driving home you stopped at a park close to your house. You sat there and cried. You cried hard your chest heaving feeling like your heart was thrown at the wall and smashed with a bat. You punched your steering wheel and just deflated. You had gotten a call from a friend of yours who asked if you and ji wanted to go to the bar with him and his gf. You sniffled trying not to cry on the phone but he knew something was up. He drove to where you were, him and his gf both were friends of yours. So when you saw them you just bursted into tears again.

The consoled you for a bit before asking what you wanted to do. “You know what- fuck it let’s go to the bar” you said. You wanted to numb the pain just wanted to drink everything away. To come home and just puke all of jisung stuff. The both nodded, they followed you to your house to drop your car off and drove to the bar. It didn’t take long for you to start taking shots back. You just wanted to forget the night and to forget Jisung.

It was late, you were plastered you had gotten a text from Jisung who must have just gotten home to see the surprise you had laid out for him. You had gotten him a new guitar that he’s been wanting it was placed on the bed with a note. The note read.

“Hannie! The actual love of my life. I can’t believe it’s been 3 years! Were you surprised? I bet you were! I just wanted to tell you I love you so much. I appreciate you and I know you’ve been working so hard so I hope today relieved some of that stress. I love you my sweets. Happy 3 years! I hope for many many more. -love your amazing loving girlfriend.”

Han choked back tears realizing what he had done. He had forgotten your anniversary but most importantly he had yell at you when all you were trying to do was make him happy. He broke down in tears, curled up on the floor in a little bawl. He could feel his chest tightening, he was scared. He didn’t know where you were, what you might have done or if you were safe.

Your phone ended up dying not knowing the floods of texts you were about to get. You didn’t know it but you started to cry. Your friends helped you to the car, the boy not drinking at all that night drove you to their place. He put you in the guest room while the girl put some water by your bed, a bucket and put your phone on the charger. You curled up knocked out cold from crying and the alcohol. You woke up around 5am feeling your head pounding. You couldn’t remember much of anything from the night.

You picked your phone up not even looking at the texts and called Jisung. He answered it immediately in a frenzy. “Y/n!” He said his voice horse from crying. Your head spun as you slurred “ji can come to (friend’s name) I wanna cuddle.” Jisung was confused but he didn’t ask questions “of course I’ll be there in 5.” He said basically sprinting to his car. “Mkay, ima gonna walk down to the door.” You said fumbling to get to your feet. Jisung drove like a madman he even ran a red light.

His heart dropped seeing you slumped over trying to stay awake at the door “hey I’m here” he said as he opened the door taking your hand. You fell into his chest holding onto him with a death grip. You started to sob, you cried so hard but in your dazed state you didn’t know why you were crying.

Jisung clung to you rubbing your back trying not to cry himself, he pulled you to the car getting you to sit in the back. Where you promptly laid down and just cried. Jisung drove just as fast as home one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing your head to try to calm you. Your cries had almost completely stopped as you pulled into your place. Jisung left out a soft sigh the tears he was choking back were bursting at the seems. He held them back until he got you safely into the room laying you down.

He wanted to leave you alone knowing you were hurting still but you quickly pulled him into bed with you. He curled up with you as you both laid there, your eyes half opened “I’m sorry for being so clingy” you said. Your voice sounded so sad so meek. “I don’t wanna ever be a bother to you” you kept going on. The tears he had choked back finally broke and it started to flood.

He held you close crying hard trying to get out the words he wanted to say “don’t you dare apologize” he croaked out. “You did absolutely nothing wrong, it was all me” he said rubbing your head. “Don’t you think for a second you did anything.”

You both ended up drifting to sleep both of your heads spinning as you woke up. You looked over at jisung his eyes puffy and his chest still heaving from the nights happenings. You read through all the messages he had sent and sighed softly. You were still hurt by his words and it was gonna take some to comeback from but he was genuinely sorry. The way he clung to you told you that alone. He was afraid you were gonna leave. That thought really never crossed your mind but he knew he fucked up bad enough that it could be a reason to leave. He’s never yelled before let alone said anything mean towards you. You knew he was hurting from what he said but so were you.

You thought to yourself though laying there in his arms “i do very much love him but he’s gonna have to do some heavy groveling to make it up to you” you smiled a bit.

💙 if you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open feel free to send me something🩵

[222col]

girl i just discovered your blog and i've read all of your work and let me tell you YOU'RE LITERALLY ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS ON THIS APP. I don't know if i can suggest a fanfic idea but can you write something about Stanford Art being your fwb and whenever you had sex he would hint/joke about wanting to take you out and have a committed relationship and you're always acting oblivious and since he's been doing it so many times you decide to end the whole thing. And to get you back Art decides to use your jealousy over him to his advantage. So whenever he knows you're around at college you would find him talking and laughing with one of the girls you hate so your possessive side takes over you and later that night you decide to go to his dorm and punish the brat he is and maybe end up accepting to finally be his girlfriend

im fr blushing 🫣 thank u so much bestie boo <3

"wanna make you mine," art groans out, mid thrust. "i am yours." your nails clawing down his spine, smirking up to his face. art has to physically hold back from rolling his eyes. not what i meant, he'd think. "let me take you out." he asks, putting his t-shirt back on. "we are out?" you laugh, shimmying your jeans back up your legs. "we're in the car park of applebee's." the eye roll can't be held back this time. flinging his head back onto the headrest in the backseat, his arm resting behind your head on the top of the car seat. "c'mon, you know what i mean." art sighs out, turning his head to look at you. "art, let's not do this. you know it would never work." ouch.

"can you just drive me home, please?" you'd sigh, climbing into the passenger seat, looking back to him. "yeah, whatever." he scoffs, climbing into the front seat. the drive back is silent, apart from the radio quietly playing. parking up outside your dorm, turning off the car before looking over to you. "let's just leave it here, yeah?" you breathe out, unbuckling your seatbelt and looking over to art. he raises his eyebrow, as if to question your meaning. "i don't think we should see each other anymore." you half shrug, biting your bottom lip. art just scoffs, shaking his head as he looks out the windscreen. "sorry art, but i think it's for the best." you smile, opening the car door. "yeah whatever, bye." art says through gritted teeth, his knuckles white from his heavy grip on the steering wheel. "see you around, art." he hears before the closing of the door, slamming his palms against the wheel as soon as you've gone. "fuck!"

your friendship circles are close, so there's a lot of crossovers, at parties, library meets, hang outs. the first time you saw art again after ending things was during a study date with your friends. walking into the library, smiling weakly at him, his eyes rolling in response. setting down your books as his arm immediately drapes around the girl to his left, scoffing as you start studying for your classes. it becomes a regular thing, always a girl hanging off of him whenever you're around. hearing giggles at his jokes, girls on his lap at parties, his lips smashed into someone else's an hour later. you'd never admit how much it was getting to you, you hadn't seen anyone else since art. jealous, that's how you felt. it was almost primal, possessive, how jealous you felt. but you ended it, so technically, you couldn't be mad. you'd only ended things because you were scared, scared of commitment, of being hurt. but, you had to live with the fact that you had ended it.

you were out at a bar with a group of friends, two beers in when art arrives, with yet another girl hanging off his arm. a girl he knows for a fact you can't stand. his eyes staring into you as he sits down, pulling her onto his lap, hearing those grating giggles from her as he does. his hands around her waist, blue eyes on you. physically shifting your body to face away from him, breathing sharply, trying to remain composed during your conversation. watching his hands caress the exposed skin of her midriff, shaking your head into your drink. he goes so far as to kiss her neck at the table, looking straight to you as he does. little shit knows exactly what he's doing. "real mature." you mouth across the table to him, only for him to air kiss back to you across the table. after a couple more drinks, everyone heads home, your blood boiling as you walk into your dorm room. sitting down on the edge of your bed, having met your end in ability to look past what he's doing. pulling out your phone, bringing up art's contact.

you: are u at ur dorm??

art: yeah, why?

immediately putting your phone in your back pocket, strutting with speed over to his dorm building. slightly out of breath by the time you arrive, banging on his door. hearing scrambling behind the door before it opens, his blonde locks meeting you. he smirks slightly, before his face is cupped your hands, lips smashing against him as you push into his room. art pushes the door closed behind you, hands gripping the fabric around your waist. "what are you doing?" he whispers against your lips, shushing him as you push him down onto the bed. "do you want me to stop?" you ask, climbing over his body, knees on either side of his thighs. looking down to him, propped up on his elbows. "n-no." he manages to get out, already looking dishevelled underneath you. "then shut up." you tease, pulling your t-shirt over your head, leaning down to attack your lips to his again. art whimpers against your mouth, hands moving to roam over the exposed skin on your back. almost immediately you're grabbing his wrists from behind you and pinning them down to the bed above his head. "you don't get to touch." he's pouting, looking up to you with pleading eyes. "why not?"

"because you've been touching every girl that moves." you tighten the grip on his wrists as he smirks, knowing his game worked, of trying to make you jealous. rolling your hips against him, removing your grip on his wrists to pull his t-shirt over his head. kissing down his jaw, his neck, working your way down to his stomach. crawling your body down his, undoing the buttons of his jeans, looking up to him through your lashes. pulling down the zipper at snails pace, before pushing his jeans and boxers down his legs. placing wet kisses all around his stomach, the top of his legs, the inside of his thighs. art's a whimpering mess, desperate for your touch, hips bucking up slightly. placing one sloppy kiss to his tip before moving away. art's head flinging back into his pillow as you do, smirking down to him as you push your own jeans down your legs. "oh sorry, did you think i was gonna suck your dick after you've been whoring around campus?" you're smirking down to him, your now naked body straddling his waist. pink blush floods his cheeks, furrowing his brows up to you, pout on his lips. "i- i haven't." he's pleading with you, hands creeping up your legs, to rest on your thighs. "didn't touch any of them. ju- just,"

your fingers are in his mouth, pushing two of your digits onto his tongue, his mouth widening as you do. "just what?" you smirk, pulling your fingers from his mouth, holding his jaw tightly. "just wanted to make you jealous." he pouts, hips bucking up again. "you're such a brat." you smirk, pushing your thumb into his mouth as he sucks on it instinctively. leaning back, lining art's cock up with your entrance, before sinking down onto him. his grip on your thighs tightens, eyes fluttering shut as he hums against your thumb. grinding yourself against him, moans slipping from your mouth, moving your hands to rest on his chest. "fuck, missed you." art grumbles, moving his hips along with your rhythm. smiling down at him, watching his eyes flutter, his swollen lip between his teeth.

art's hand comes down to thumb at your clit, rubbing slow circles against you, smirking up as he hears his name fall off your lips. art's cock curls against your walls as you grind against him, his length hitting your g-spot with every movement. the mixture of sensation stretching the band in your stomach tighter, leaning down to kiss art's lips, his grip on your thigh moving to your hips, guiding you as he thrusts up to meet you, fucking you faster. groans fall into each others mouths, bodies sheen with layers of sweat. his blonde curls sticking to his forehead, sloppily kissing each other as you both push each other closer to the edge. "fuck- i'm so close." you mumble into art's mouth, hands wrapping around the hairs of his scalp. art moans louder, feeling you clench around his cock. his mouth licking down your jaw as he suckles on the skin on your neck, feeling you come undone on his shaft. "mmph, m'gonna cum." art mumbles, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he paints your walls, his cum dripping down over him as he slides out of you.

collapsing down on top of him, your legs feeling like jelly, both of you breathless. sinking onto your side, laying down next to art, eyes locked on each other as your breathing returns to normal. art leans to push your hair off of your forehead, smiling to you as his hand rests on your cheek. "will you please, let me make you mine." he half laughs, his thumb stroking your skin. smiling as you roll your eyes jokingly to him. "what, like be your girlfriend?" you giggle, caressing the skin on his hipbone. "yes, my god, i've been trying to ask you for months." he shakes his head, laughing before looking back into your eyes, waiting for your answer. smiling shyly as you simply nod your head. "is that a yes?" he smiles, tickling your sides. "yes!" you reply through your chuckles. "i'll be your girlfriend." art smiles wide, rolling on top of your body. "fucking finally." he mumbles onto your lips, kissing you tenderly. "you could have just asked." you giggle into his mouth. "you're unbelievable."

[365granitegirlx]

I see in a different light...the object of my desire

what happens when you accidentally text Bestfriend!Vessel instead of your Tinder hook up?

Tags/CW/Head's Up: vessel x you, fem gendered language, brief dubcon, briefly jealous!vessel and possessive!vessel, sending nudes, verbal teasing, spanking, cunnilingus, prone-bone, smut interrupted by fluff then back to smut, barely revised argue with the wall, fuck boys mentioned

MDNI 18+

it's one of those nights where nothing is going your way. you're still fuming about getting ghosted on tinder earlier this week. things were going so well and if *insert douchey fuck boy name* hadn't gone radio silent, you'd probably be going down on him right now! it's been entirely too long since you've had sex, let alone received some kind of non-platonic male attention. that's why you joined tinder this past month, even though your best friend, Vessel's, voice echoed in your ear saying...

Plenty of men want you! I don't get why you don't see it. You don't need the apps, just get out of your head. 

wow. so helpful. thank you, sir. you rolled your eyes when he said that as you edited your profile. if he's so good at noticing when other guys were checking you out, why did he never point them out? or was he just being nice?

at any rate, you feel cheated out of a fun night with a hot guy and want to make him feel sorry. so, you do what any sane, horny girl would do--send him a nude. you don't show everything right away. not you. never. you took the selfie so quickly you didn't have time to feel shame.

You put your PJs on and start to make yourself a little snack when you hear your text tone. Hah. Finally! He’s back in your messaging…groveling. pleading. Another ding. HAH! You must have really got him.

Vessel: Send another one xx 

5 minutes earlier

Vessel was tempted to pull an all nighter. He knew if he just put in a liiiiiitle more work, this melody would be golden and maybe he could pat himself on the back. Right as he was about to rage quit....ding ding. Very very few people's texts are allowed to bypass his DND settings...except for his best friend.

you: this could be yours, you know?

Vessel nearly dropped his phone as he made sense of the picture in front him. It only showed her lips down to her soft tummy, but he knew it was her. This wasn't some weird spam text masquerading as his dearest friend. She looked angelic. Dreamy. Delicious. Her free hand covered her breasts...her lips in a flirty smirk as she lightly bit her plush bottom lip. Vessel knew she was beautiful. Aren't all women beautiful, though? Surely every man feels his head cave in and his stomach clench with butterflies when his best female friend is near. Right…?

"Fuuuuuuuucccccck" he intoned, letting his hand drift down to his crotch to try and calm himself. He shook his head and repeated himself, putting down the phone. More than likely that text wasn't meant for him. There was no way. His face burned. His cock throbbed between his legs as he felt these strange, lustful stirrings for his best friend. What the fuck was wrong with him? The track he was working on quickly became the least important thing in the world…his frustrations slipping away as soon as his zipper was undone.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? How did you click on Vessel’s name instead of *insert douchey fuck boy name*?! They aren’t even close in spelling…oh…but they’re close on your “Recents” list. And now your hastiness and inattention has lead to you receiving a flirty response from your best friend who has been nothing short of a little brother to you.

You: OMG VES I AM SO SORRY!!! I didn’t mean to send that to you. FML. You: It was supposed to go to this guy from Tinder. Let’s just delete the thread and put this behind us, yeah?

...

It’s been 20 minutes. No response. Your stomach is in knots from the unknown. It’s really late…maybe he fell asleep. Maybe he was just kidding? Yes. That’s it. He was drunk and messing about and then passed out. That will help you sleep…just keep telling yourself…

Knock knock knock 

There have been two times now that you wish the tinder fuck boy was here. First time was when you were so horny you couldn’t see straight after your shower, and the second time was now, as someone knocked on your door at 1:30 AM. *ding ding*

Vessel: hun, come on. It’s me. 

Christ. What is this? You get off your bed and peer through the peep hole. Sure enough, it’s Ves in a hoodie and sweats, looking cuddly and kissable and WAIT. No no no no. Get it together. He probably just wants to hang out to show you that nude incident doesn’t change anything. 

“Well hello there young man, does your mother know you’re not in bed?” You say with a dry laugh as you open the door.

Vessel walks right past you into your place. You close the door behind you and lean your back against it. 

“Have I repulsed you into silence, hm?” 

Your normally boyish, quiet, sarcastic best friend looks practically ravenous as his eyes trail down your body. Now he knows what you look like naked, and the sight of you clothed right now borders on sacrilege. He takes a step forward. His doe eyes, which still brim with charm and platonic affection, bore into you as he grasps your chin with his hand.

“How cruel…to dangle such a tasty treat in front of me and then not take a compliment and act like this was such a terrible oversight on your part,” he growls.

“And which compliment are you referring to?”

He pulls you by the chin enough so that your back is off the door, though you’re certain he will just pin you back against it when he sees fit. This is not your closest friend. This is a man possessed. 

“Stop playing dumb, it’s beneath you. I asked you to send another immediately after receiving the first. Is that not a compliment? That I’m not merely satisfied with one image. I could have you in countless ways…I need to know what that would look like. Do you really want me to take you on your back every time? Always with your arm covering your tits like that? Hm?”

Your inhales are sharp gasps now as the butterflies in your tummy churn to get out. You’ve never seen him like this…never seen him as a prospective lover…never seen him horny even…but this…wait…wait why is he…

He gently chuckles and presses you back against the door, shaking his head and stepping away. 

“Oh my god…” he chuckles, “the look on your face. I really had you going, eh?”

You scoff, laughing in disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You say shaking your head and walking towards your kitchen. Just fall into the old routine. Get your usual drinks and plop on the couch for shit tv. You don’t make it far and suddenly you’re being pulled backwards by your sleep shorts. 

“This is what the fuck is wrong with me.” His hands keep your hips still as he presses his bulge against you. “You’ve ruined me. You have actually ruined my perception of you.”

“Tsk,” you try to wriggle from his grip but he ends up clasping you in a tight bear hug from behind, “slut shaming me now?”

“You sweet, silly, little wanker….shaming?” God it was weird to hear his playful nickname for you as he gently grinds against you. The resolve you worked so hard to build is dissolving as your head falls against his shoulder and allow him to knead your hips and stomach. He continues in hot, breathy whispers, “babydoll…I encourage it…as long it’s saved for me. Can you do that? Hm? Can you promise to only share that with me?”

Now your body betrays you and you grind back into him. 

“You’re no better than me. Look at you,” he says he plants soft, needy kisses on your neck. “You want this, don’t you? Please…please tell me you feel it too.” His grip is no longer firm. It’s hard. You're able to snake one of your hands up and behind his neck…you’re desperate to touch him anywhere at this point. 

“I…I feel it…”

Suddenly you’re being steered towards your bedroom. Ves is strong, perhaps not enough to hoist you up and throw you on bed, but he enthusiasm is evident when you’re pushed on the bed on your stomach. Immediately he’s out of his hoodie and his warm, bare torso presses against your back. He’s clinging to you from behind and letting his hands roam under your shirt. 

You let out a breathy moan and chuckle. “So you liked what you saw?”

“Mmmmmph,” He lets out gruffly as he gently bites your shoulder and licks the indentions from his pearly whites. 

You let out another moan but with a cackle now. “Oh ew. Sorry that wasn’t hot.”

He leans up and gives you a swift smack on your plush ass. “I’m realizing now that everything about you is hot.” But you don’t feel him touch you anymore. You roll over and look up at him. He sighs. 

“Ves, you ok? Did I do something wrong?”

“No…no…I just…kind of dropped back into my body. What are we doing?”

You smirk sadly. What are you two doing?

“We can stop if you want. Just talk. Whatever you want.” You sit up and caress his arm feeling the warmth and texture of his skin as if for the first time. He looks at you softly.

“Please don’t take my…enthusiasm…as some kind of…I don’t know…disregard for you. I’d…I’d do anything to be on the receiving end of those texts…I realize that now. It’s not just sex I want. It’s not just…your body. Don’t get me wrong…it tempts me beyond belief…now that I’ve seen it. But I get it now.”

You smile softly and maybe even proudly as he soothes your fears. As much as you would have loved to be prone-boned a minute ago, you were scared it was only because of the newness and craziness of the situation. “Get what, Ves?”

“Why I feel the need to do this.” And with that he presses deep kiss into your plump lips. His hand slips down shyly to your collar bone as your hand tangles in his hair. 

You let him undress you. Of course, he had just seen you practically naked. But here you were…in the flesh before him. You two spent a considerable just touching…caressing...tasting. But it became frenzied again after you let your hand mindlessly trail down your body to rub your clit. It wasn’t long before you found yourself folded in half with his face between your legs. His tongue flicking and massaging your clit as you squeal and buck your hips against him. His strong arms keep you still for the most part, but you don’t know what to do with your hands. First they’re on your tits…then the back of his head…twisted in his hair. He gives in and sticks his tongue out to let you grind against it. With your hand holding his hair tightly, your hips grind against his precious face. You look down…met with those same doe eyes. As if you weren’t mewling and blubbering enough…that little shit chuckles dryly and presses two fingers into your hot pussy. 

“Ffffffuuuuuccckkkk you. Oh my GOD,” you groan as you reach your climax. The white-hot knot in your tummy unfurls and your folds ache with pleasure as he presses your insides firmly and watches you reverently. “Holy fuck…ok…fuck…get off me now,” you say quickly because otherwise you’ll be completely overstimulated. He backs off immediately. What a good boy. His chest heaves up and down as he looks at you. You suddenly feel very small. Vulnerable with your soft belly and pussy exposed to him. What’s the worst that could happen…letting your best friend rut into you?

“You’re on birth control, yeah?”

You nod. Your IUD was still good for two more years. But you half-think you’d give him whatever he wanted, even if it meant being risky and stupid. He takes your legs firmly and pulls you down to him. He pats your clit with his heavy cock a few times. You shudder. 

“How long’s it been, love? Hm?” You don’t even want to answer. He caresses your cheek and moves to press himself inside you. Your body clenches as his thick cock stretches you. “Oh…oh it’s been awhile. Poor, little love. Let me fix it…let me make it better.”

As soon as he starts fucking you, you’re moaning his name and clasping his forearms. Your soft body jiggles in little waves as he presses into you with a gentle, patience force.

“Fucking hell…” he moans as he moves his hands. One settles on your ribs under your breast while the other collapses and lazily circles the top of your head. He leans down to kiss you…your taste still on his lips. 

Despite being so worked up, he keeps his wits about him and is able to fuck you without completely blowing his load in his new favorite place— your heavenly, warm, pussy. 

“God…god…such a pretty girl,” he whispers huskily. “My pretty girl is so good at taking cock. How did you get so good at taking cock, hm? You’re so good. So pretty.”

You can’t take it. You pull him in and make out with him roughly. All the feelings and thoughts you’d repressed flow out of you via your mouth and hips rubbing against him pathetically. He holds you impossibly close as he whines in your neck. 

“Babydolll….mmm…my little doll… stay still…stay still for me.”

Suddenly he flips you onto your stomach. An impressive feat given he was just balls deep in you. He pulls your hips up like he owns you and presses back into your pussy. He immediately whimpers pathetically. You’re desperate to throw it back but he gives your bottom a swift spank. 

“I said be still.” 

And with a hand firmly between your shoulder blades and another on your lower back, he drills into you until he’s shaking and blubbering about how he’s cumming inside you…how there’s no one like you…how you’re made for him…

The next morning, you wake up with Ves draped across your chest, snoring softly. You pet his hair softly and rub the sleep from your eyes as you check your phone. Hmm. Three missed calls and a string of pathetic texts from *insert douchey fuck boy name* acting like he never ghosted you in the first place. You toss your phone to the foot of the bed and curl up to Ves, who groggily wakes up as your kiss his head.

“Mine.” He says holding you close. 

“Mine.” You respond…groggy…sore…and lovesick.

[mianexil]

◇ Misunderstanding ◇

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

⭕️ Warning: Angst ⭕️

💫 [ I love these boys so much, and I don't want them to worry, but I couldn't get this angst out of my head, I had to write it ]

💫 [ Cuties, I'm sorry I've been away for so long. I needed to rest and regain my mental strength after the recent events in my life. I have managed to do a lot during this time. Although the July rainy season was killing me with the weather, but I'm already fine. My small trips that I have made during this time have allowed me to find inspiration again, so I am with you again ]

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

ㅡ Umemiya, Sakura

Umemiya

The white-haired head of Bofurin had just returned home, humming to himself some song he had heard from the radio while working with vegetables on the roof.

Umemiya was impatient with the desire to embrace the love of his life, which warmed his heart like a ray of sunshine. So, after taking off his shoes, he immediately headed to the kitchen, where you were presumably.

However, before entering the kitchen, he froze when he heard a sharp exclamation.

《 Why did you come here again?! 》

"Why did you come here again..?"

Umemiya's hand trembled over the handle of the door, which he had not yet managed to open, and immediately another stream of curses rang out.

《 Why are there so many of you?! I'm suffocating! Can you just leave me alone for a day? 》

Hajime's heart sank into his heels.

“What? Why? Suffocating? ...I..am I boring her..?"

Thoughts instantly flashed through the white-haired man's head, and then there was an overly loud minute of silence in his thought space.

It seemed that his heart was about to stop from realizing all this.

Pain pinched in his chest and moisture had already appeared in his blue eyes, but Umemiya restrained himself.

Deep breath.

Umemiya is the type of person who will go and talk even if he is in pain, even if he knows that he is about to get a dagger in his heart, because you are the love of his life. He is ready to open his heart for that very dagger himself, if it is in your hand.

He needs to hear it directly, listen to you, talk and fully understand the situation, even if it hurts him.

Nevertheless, the hand presses the door handle and the desperate gaze of Umemiya is presented with a picture of how you, with slightly swollen eyes and a clogged nose, express dissatisfaction to a large piece of fluff that you hold between your fingers.

Someone planted poplar fluff on your street and now, with the onset of summer, it clogs the whole street and flies into the windows, preventing you from living peacefully without allergies.

Turning around at the sound of the door opening, you see your boyfriend, who seems to be on the verge. The sight of Umemiya, who now looks more like the most unhappy puppy in the world, makes you go into shock for a few seconds.

Of course, you immediately rush to your lover with dumbfounded eyes and gently wrap your hands around his face.

When asked about what happened, he asks you in a firm voice, as usual, but slightly trembling at the end, who your previous words were intended for.

Having clarified the situation, you immediately find yourself in his strong and silent embrace. The silence is broken only by his soft sob.

This poor boy has just gone through too much in 3 minutes.

For the next hour, you will have to hold Umemiya in your arms, wipe away tears, soothe and assure him that you are not tired of him, that you still love him more than anything in the world and that he will never be "too much" in your life.

Oh, dear, take care of him, because he loves you too much.

Sakura

《 You don't understand, he's constantly nervous and yelling at me all the time. I'm sick of it already! To me..it seems to me that soon I will simply not stand it and leave.. 》

You were so immersed, emotionally complaining to your friend on the phone about the new teacher, that you didn't notice how your boyfriend froze in the doorway and had been listening to your conversation for several seconds.

Turning away from the window, you finally noticed Sakura.

ㅡ Oh, honey

Quickly concluding your dialogue with your friend with the promise that you will call back soon, you went to him.

ㅡ Has something happened?

You pull your hand to his forehead to remove the two-colored hair that fell over his eyes, covering his face, but he silently intercepted your hand.

ㅡ Why...

ㅡ What?..

ㅡ Why are you touching me?

There is anger in his tone, but you both understand that pain and resentment are hidden behind it. You felt the feeling of Sakura still holding, but not squeezing your hand. Even now, he treated you with care.

The voice dropped almost to a whisper, leading you more and more into misunderstanding and making you wary.

《 Do you hate me? 》

At that moment, there was silence in the room. Fright washed over you in an instant.

It seemed like another second and he would have run away, but you managed to grab him by the collar. A firm but careful grip.

《 What are you saying, Sakura? 》

This conversation didn't last long, but it was hard. You were so worried that you made this kitten go through this moment of shock, and it took Sakura at least ten minutes for him to let go of the shock of those experiences.

You spent the rest of the day together. His head rested on your lap, and his hands were still gently but tightly wrapped around your waist while you gently hugged him, stroking his head, restoring him from shock and occasionally scolding him for allowing such a terrible thought that you would treat him so cruelly. Sakura, on the other hand, was silent for a lot, but when he spoke, it was with words of apology and a quiet, but incredibly warm for your heart declaration of love.

His fragile heart is in your hands and you both know it. He gave it to you himself, so take care of it.

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

[angelicsoka]

IDIOT, l. hughes

word count | 788 words

pairings | luke hughes x fem!best friend!reader, platonic!jack hughes x reader, mentions of unnamed ex boyfriend x reader

summary | in which luke’s best friend is left broken hearted and with a family dinner she has no date to, so he decides to step up and help.

warnings | not proofread. no use of “y/n”. reader was cheated on. lowercase intended. this is a work of fiction, i am by no means saying this is how they act in real life.

a/n | heres one of two of the valentines blurbs i'm gonna post today because i had a sudden urge of inspiration to write (but not for the fics i've already started lmao)

she stormed up the stairs of luke and jack’s apartment complex, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. she felt like an idiot, she should’ve known there was something off with him. that he was spending a little too much time with her. she knocked hurriedly on their door, waiting anxiously for them to answer. after what felt like a century, luke opened the door.

“hey–” he was cut off by her pushing through into the apartment, the tears already starting to fall. “what's wrong?”

“he fucking cheated! that asshole was fucking cheating on me and i didn’t even realize! i feel so fucking stupid.” she cried, wiping angrily at her tears. luke saw red, already grabbing for his keys. “don’t, luke, it isn't worth it. plus, i already broke his nose.” jack, who had paused his game to listen in, whistled.

“damn, girl. remind me not to get on your bad side.” jack commented, dropping the smile when luke glared at him. “sorry.”

“now, i have this stupid family dinner and my parents are expecting me to bring a date! how am i supposed to tell them he cheated on me and on fucking valentines day of all days?” she ranted, the tears still flowing.

“hey, it's all gonna be okay. you just need to breathe.” she took a seat at their island, messily wiping her tears. she took a couple of deep breathes, her anxiety still heightened.

“fuck, i really don’t wanna go tonight.” she groaned, accepting the tissue luke offered her. “and if i cancel, they're gonna ask a shit ton of questions and i can’t deal with that right now.”

“i could go with you.” luke spoke, causing both her and jack to whip their heads towards him. “what?”

“you would do that?” she question, her eyes brightening. “because you don’t have to! i can cancel.”

“no, i want to. i promise.” her face held a beaming smile as she threw her arms around him.

“thank you, lukey! okay, be ready by 7, i'll pick you up! and wear a suit ‘cause we’re going to mario’s.” she seemed genuinely happy as she ran out of the apartment.

“somebody’s in love!” jack sang, laughing when luke smacked his shoulder.

the car was silent, beside the radio that was playing. her fingers tapped against the steering wheel, avoiding looking to her best friend. “what did you tell your parents?” luke asked, looking to her.

“just that i was bringing a guy i wanted them to meet. i left it kind of vague.” luke nodded, looking back out the window. “thanks again, lu. i really appreciate it.”

“of course, anytime.” she smiled, the car falling quiet once more. “you know he’s idiot for cheating on you, right? i mean who would want to cheat on a girl like you.” her cheeks flushed red, a small smile etched on her face. he mumbled something she couldn’t quite pick up, her eyebrows furrowing.

“what was that, lu?”

“i wouldn’t do that.” she almost slammed on the brakes, stunned by his statement. she looked to him, his eyes already trained on her.

“what are you saying?” she asked, the car coming to a stop at a red light. luke rubbed his eyes, clearly nervous. “luke.” she continued to keep her eyes trained on the road, turning into the parking lot of the restaurant. 

“look, you’re my best friend, and i know you are still upset. and i understand if you don’t feel the same. but i–” he stopped, breathing in slowly. “i think i’m in love with you. and seeing you upset over some idiot who can’t see that he just lost the best girl he could’ve ever had, pissed me off. and honestly, i’m glad, because you deserve better.” she felt her heart beating out of her chest, the feelings she had spent years pushing down now resurfacing.

“lu…”

“listen, i understand if you don’t feel the same but–” he was cut off when she placed her hand on his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss. it took a moment, but he slowly eased into it, his hand resting on her neck. “i take it, you feel the same?”

“you’re an idiot.” she giggled, placing a short, gentle kiss on his lips. “of course, i feel the same. but we take this slow, okay?”

“deal.” he leaned in to kiss her once more only to be stopped by her placing a finger on his lips.

“we’re gonna be late.” he pouted, earning a laughing, ‘ok, one more, and then we go in. no more, no less.” he pecked her lips before getting out and opening her door for her. “such the gentleman.”

“gotta make up for lost time.”

[nathaslosthershit]

Stupidly Charming (CL16) [AoM Part 2]

Part 1: Audacity of Man Summary: Charles was never anything but a compassionate and wonderfully loving boyfriend. You always used to brag about how attentive he was... I guess this is karma?

You had tried to distract yourself, not get angry or upset over the fact that Charles had most likely forgotten your anniversary.

It was still early in the day, he could surprise you, or make up for the fact he forgot.

But hours went by of radio silence from the Ferrari driver. You couldn’t really blame him, even if he remembered your anniversary, you knew he wouldn’t be able to drop everything at work to text or call you.

Still you had hoped for something. 

“Fuck him! What an idiotic asshole, especially after you made him breakfast.” Your friend said as you caught her up on the situation. “Get upset! Get angry! If the second he gets home he isn’t on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness, be the biggest bitch to him you have ever been.”

“That seems extreme…”

“Fuck extreme, fuck him! Get angry, fight, and then have the best makeup sex of your life.”

That you could do.

“Honey! Oh how I missed you” Charles said as he opened the door and saw you on the couch, pretending to read a book you had given up on actually paying attention to a while ago. You were still too upset.

You didn’t answer him. You even scoffed as he didn’t seem to recognize your silent treatment, just planting a kiss on your cheek and going to change.

What an asshole.

“Did you think about what you wanted for dinner?” He asked as he returned.

Again, silence.

“I was hoping to try out that new place that opened up down the street, heard it has amazing desserts.” 

Still nothing. 

“Baby? Did you hear me?”

…

“Are you okay?” He sat down next to you. A look of realization appeared on his face as he saw your frown. Finally, he was remembering. 

“Oh honey, I am sorry I had to leave today when I knew you wanted to hang out. I wanted to as well, you know I did. Hours in the simulator and all I could think about was coming home to my beautiful girlfriend, the person I am most excited to spend the rest of my life with.” Nevermind, he still didn't remember. But dammit as he hugged your waist and pulled your face towards him to plant kisses everywhere, you couldn’t fight off the laugh that left your mouth. He was stupid but he was charming. Stupidly charming. 

“There she is,” he said looking at the smile now on your face, much to your dismay. “How about I order from that new place, I’ll get all the things on the menu I know we’ll like so we can try them all.”

“Charles, that's an expensive amount of food for no reason.”

“No it isn’t, not when it is for you. You better get used to it, you are being spoiled for the rest of your life.” he walked away to order and you tried hard to remember why you were mad in the first place.

Right, your anniversary. But was it even fair to blame him? He was busy with work and while you wished he would prioritize you a little more, he always made sure to make up for it, to make you feel as loved as possible. 

You were halfway to forgiving him when he came back into the living room, an apologetic look across his face. “I have to jump on a call, could you go pick up the food, my love?” Nevermind, even when making up for being busy because of work, he was too busy because of work to make up for it. 

“Fine.” Was all you said as you got up, the frown back on your face as you grabbed your stuff and left, ignoring his calls and apologies behind you. 

If that hadn’t put you in a bad mood, then the whole ordeal around picking up the food did.

“I am so sorry, ma’am. It will only be a little longer, we weren’t expecting this much business so fast!” The lady behind the hostess stand said.

It wasn’t her fault of course, but it didn’t help your mood. Still you tried to keep it together as you waited 45 minutes to pick up food that should have been ready the moment you got there.

You even kept it together as you realized you had forgotten your keys to the apartment inside, so you had to call Charles to let you in. But after a few insistent knocks on the door, and a few missed calls, you finally broke down. Maybe it was dramatic, leaning on the door as you sat on the ground, crying, but fuck that. You were upset, and upset you were going to remain. Still, it took a few minutes for Charles to come to the door.

“Ah, I am so sorry love I was on the phone and didn't see your-” He was rambling excuses the second he opened the door but stopped when he saw you on the ground, a mess of tears and snot. “Honey, what is wrong? Oh my love I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you out here so long, and I didn’t know that the restaurant would be such a mess.” He kneeled in front of you as he wiped away your tears.

“It's not that-or not just that. It's everything Charles, this wasn’t how today was supposed to go-”

“I know, my love, I’m sorry I was-”

“No, you don’t understand. Charles, it's our anniversary, and I spent so long thinking of things we could do today to make it special, but nothing happened and it just got worse and worse till I couldn't hold it in anymore. I just- you didn’t even remember and everytime I tried to tell myself it was okay to be upset or angry, you would be so sweet that I couldn’t justify it-” You couldn’t even finish as sobs racked your body. 

Though, you paused when you heard Charles let out a low laugh. You looked up at him, but he wasn’t smiling or laughing at you, tears streaming down his face confirming as much. It was more of a pitiful laugh. 

“I knew this was a stupid plan. There were too many ways it could backfire.”

Before you could question what he meant, he picked up the food in one hand and reached for you with the other. You hesitated.

“Do you trust me?” he asked. Even though you were upset, you took his hand and stood up. Of course you trusted him. 

Your eyes widened as you saw the state of your apartment. Candles lit and spread around, balloons and streamers nicely framing your table that had been set up with a white table cloth, your nicest plates and glasses atop it, and a beautiful, large bouquet of flowers.

“I wanted to make tonight special. I had planned on making the entire day special, but when I had to leave I came up with a plan to make up for me being gone.” He looked at you, waiting for your reaction, he looked… embarrassed? “It was stupid, to pretend I forgot about our anniversary, I wasn’t going to but when I realized I hadn’t said anything, too caught up in the fact I was being taken away from you, I thought I would pretend so I could surprise you. I didn’t have a call, I just needed time to get this ready but after you left upset and then had to deal with all the problems at the restaurant, I began to panic, so much so that I didn’t hear your knocks and didn’t see you had called.” 

You started crying again, alarming Charles. “I know it was stupid, I shouldn’t have done it, I didn’t think it through I’m-” you kissed him, hard.

He was an idiot, such a fucking idiot, but he was yours, and for all of his bad moments, you knew he loved you so much. 

You two finally pulled away, that's when you realized he was shaking, a lot. 

“Charlie?”

“I- I had a whole speech. I worked on it for months. In the shower, in the car, during free practice last weekend it's all I could think of actually, that's why I got yelled at by my engineer.” he laughed, turning red at the memory. “I wanted to talk about how much I love you, how much I don’t deserve you, that I know it's so hard to have my job continually come in the way, but you will always be first, my love, even if it doesn’t feel like it. And I want to spend the rest of my life working to deserve you and your love. I want to spend forever making you feel just as happy as you make me.” Had tears not been blocking your vision, you'd have seen him reach for the box in his pocket.

But it wasn’t until he got down on one knee that you realized what he was doing. And before he could ask the question, you tackled him to the ground. 

The soft carpet luckily kept Charles’ head from hitting the ground hard. You didn’t care, he didn’t care, too busy giggling in between kisses as you both rolled on the ground. Once you two had calmed down and sat up, he slipped the ring onto your finger. “The ring is beautiful, Charlie, but this isn’t how I expected getting proposed to.” you teased as the two of you wiped tears away and tried to fix your messy hair from rolling around.

“It wasn’t how I thought I would propose, but if it ends in getting to spend the rest of my life with you, then I don’t care too much.”

So stupidly charming.

[therookieimagines]

Not that he cares...or anything.. - Tim Bradford x reader part one

Summary: After an argument with your TO you request a change, after a rough fight at home it leaves your Training officer to not only save your life, but unknowingly give you meaning in life as well.

warnings: Details of being shot, shooting someone else, you almost dying, your roommate being a creep

You were a rookie with the LAPD, working alongside some of the best, trying your hardest to do whatever is right, but today, your head was foggy, you were going through a thing with your roommate who had a thing for you, and now after politely declining, he's kicking you out.

You were out on a call with your training officer, Tim Bradford, he was no doubt an amazing officer, but you also agreed he was hard on his rookies, and for you it hurt because you actually felt like you two were pretty close, most times not having to communicate with each other on calls, you both just understood the other. "God Damnit, Boot! RUN! The suspect is running!" He screamed as he took off over the fence, you snapped back into reality, taking off in a sprint to cut off the drug dealer on the other side of the alley, but as you rounded the corner, you saw that Tim had already gotten him apprehended, and you could tell by the deadly glare he gave you, you were on his chopping block. You followed behind silently as he shoved the guy into the back of your guys' shop, slamming the back door before taking a long deep breath "O-Officer Bradford I can-" He cut you off by walking away to the driver side "I don't give a shit get in" He snapped as he slammed his door, you gulped down tears as you took your seat in the passenger, he didn't speak a single word the entire way back to the station.

As you booked your suspect you made your way over to John sighing "I think I screwed things up with Bradford" You sighed slumping against the wall "I'm sorry, hey maybe we can get drinks after shift? Sorry Harper and I are about to leave on a huge lead, talk when-" He couldn't finish his sentence before your fate was sealed "Rookie! The shop! Now!" Bradford shouted from the garage door, you rushed over, holding your service belt to keep anything from falling out while you jogged, as you loaded into the shop you held your breath, waiting for the lecture. "So..should I just..shoot you now?" He asked, his tone dripping with anger "W-what?..why?" You asked, confused on why'd he'd ever need to shoot you "Because what if that suspect had a weapon?! part of being a cop is always staying vigilant! and you failed today!" he shouted, his hand smacking against the steering wheel, out of instinct from the last week you flinched towards the door, your hand immediately popping to the door handle ready to run. Tim took notice, he just didn't want to see you hurt or worse, especially under his watch..not that he cared about you..or anything.

Tim didn't see you the next day, you had showed up early to request a temporary T.O change, you just felt like you had crossed a line with Bradford and it'd be better to just give him space. Tim on the other hand was stressed the entire shift, making sure to listen to any radio calls from you or Detective Harper, not that he cared..or anything.. John had taken notice of Tim obvious behavior change "Forgive me if i'm wrong, but you're kinda acting like you care about y/n, alot" He suggested watching as Bradford shot him a dirty glare pulling up on scene to come in as back-up for you. "Listen here, rookie, I do not care for y/n, I am doing my job, They needed back-up, we're responding" He snapped getting out, following in behind you and Harper.

You sighed changing into your street clothes and heading to your car, trying to avoid Tim at any chance "Boot! Real quick!" You heard his voice shout as you went to open your car door "Listen, about yesterday-" You cut him off "Officer Bradford, really it's no big-" it was his turn to cut you off "It is, I lost my cool, and as a cop, training officer...and..friend..it wasn't okay" He admitted "So I'm sorry" You sighed "Tim, it's okay, I just figured you needed space, now I gotta get home, get some stuff handled" You smiled before getting in your car, starting it up.

Before you could realize you were home, you slowly approached the steps, still keeping your hand on your service belt, you had taken your belt home with you, signing it out just incase things went sideways. As you opened the door you could immediately tell something was off, the tv was on but muted, the stove was still on high with a boiling pot of some type of weird liquid, it wasn't just that though, you could sense something was bad, you slowly pulled up your radio, trying to stay quiet "This is Officer Y/n l/n badge number 49336, I need a cruiser sent to 39213 hollywood avenue for assistance in eviction" Tim heard you over his own radio at home, immediately running to his truck "Dispatch, This is Officer Tim Bradford Badge number 34831, please clock me in for duty, responding to Officer l/n's back call" He said into his radio as he sped to your address, knowing damn well something was happening.

You didn't even make it to your bedroom before you were body slammed into your hallway wall, you roommate yanking your gun out of your holster taking aim "You stupid bitch!" He shouted, you gulped, raising your hands as you tried to back into the wall further like it could hide you from the danger that was right in front of you. "L-Listen, We don't have to do it like this, you can just put the-" He cut you off by firing you gun, you couldn't feel the bullet bust into your stomach like you always thought, you just felt the stabbing burning pain it left as it went through your body. You fell to the ground watching as your roommate rushed to you pressing his hands down on your wound "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean t-too" He shouted, you went into flight or fight, only remembering your training, you could hear Bradford shouting in your head 'take out the threat, rookie!' You reached the gun that he dropped next to the both of you, quickly firing two shots into his chest watching him fall back, you let your body go limp, taking a deep breath, closing your eyes, exhausted from everything that had happened that day.

Tim rushed in, two other on-duty uniforms following behind "You two clear the main rooms, I'll go in the back, check the bedrooms, she's gotta be here somewhere" He demanded, pulling his phone out calling your cell phone still holding his gun in the air as he cleared the rooms, dropping his phone whenever he saw the bottom of your work boot peeking around the corner of the hallway, a tiny trail of blood slowly running to Bradford's shoe "Y/n!" He shouted "I need an RA! Now!" He screamed, he wasn't concerned for your roommate at all, it was obvious you had lost a lot of blood, your uniform was soaked through, the white patches showing your rank were now dark red, along with your hair. He never left your side, he was the one preforming CPR until your pulse was back, he was the one by your bedside for two weeks, he was the first person you saw whenever you woke up.

You slowly opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the dark room, the bright wall clock telling you it was a little past one in the morning, as you looked around you jumped seeing a body sprawled out on a hospital bed somewhat close to yours, he couldn't of made it, you shot him repeatedly. You could hear your heart monitors beep increase as you went over every possibility of him living, there was no way, right as you thought you were going to pass out, the door opened with a nurse and doctor, and the man near you sprung awake, you were met with a shirtless Tim Bradford, with messy hair, that was normally always styled perfectly. "Look who's up" The doctor greeted as Tim bolted to your bedside "You're alright, boot, you were shot, but we got there just in time, you okay" He explained, you were slowly calming down, still confused on how you ended up shot, last thing you remembered you were finishing up a call with Tim about a robbery.

Tim explained everything over the course of the rest of the night, slowly he moved from his 'bed' to the chair next to your bed, to next to you in your bed as you both watched one of the uniform's bodycam footage per your request. Tim's eyes were on you the entire time, worried about how you may react seeing your own body basically dead, your eyes stayed glued on the scene, not realizing your smile peeked out a little seeing Tim already waiting by your door, his truck basically parked on your porch. Your body froze seeing the footage veer around your hallway to reveal the bloody scene, your eyes chose to focus on something other than the trauma that was everywhere "were you...holding me crying, Bradford?" You asked turning to look at him smirking "No! I was not crying! you couldn't tell but it was raining" He said, he couldn't help but smile at you "Fine! but..you weren't..you weren't awake! I-I thought I lost my first rookie on my watch" He explained trying to write it off as not caring that much about you still.

You just leaned into his shoulder pushing him a bit "Don't lie Bradford" You giggled, to your surprise he just sighed wrapping his arm around you "You scared me good..don't do it again..please.." He whispered pressing a kiss to the top of your head, holding onto you tight for the rest of night.

don't worry my children there will be a part two with so much more fluff and sappy Bradford, I just needed some good backstory lore ;)

[firewasabeast]

Prompt if you want: Tommy having a rough call and the ways that Buck comforts him/cheers him up :)

Hope you’re having a great day!

Thank you, I am having a great day 😊

Also, here's a warning: this story mentions someone jumping to their death. Nothing graphic, just mentioned.

It had been a bad day. There was no other way to put it. No way to sugar coat it. No way to put on a fake smile and pretend everything was fine.

Not that he had to do that with Evan anyway.

If anyone understood bad days, it was him.

The call had been so bad that his captain let him off early afterward, making him promise that he'd go straight home to his husband and talk to him.

Tommy promised.

And that's what he did.

Buck was surprised by the sound of the key in the door. He met Tommy in the foyer, head tilted in confusion.

“You're early?” he questioned. “Everything okay?”

Tommy realized then that he had forgotten to call. Didn't even think about it, really. The drive home was a silent one, radio off, not letting a single full thought form in his mind.

Instead of answering, he dropped his duffel by the door as it swung closed and folded himself into Buck's arms.

“Sorry if I scared you,” he muttered out, head tucked into the crook of Buck's neck.

Buck held onto him tight, knew it's what he needed. “You didn't scare me,” he assured him, his voice soft. “I know the sound of how you unlock a door.”

They held onto each other for a while. Let silence fill the air, Buck ran his hands gently up and down Tommy's back, feeling his muscles become less tense by the minute.

Tommy simply breathed Buck in. Let himself be overtaken by the comfort of being in his husband's arms.

They stayed there for so long, Buck swaying them slowly back and forth, that he wasn't completely sure if Tommy had fallen asleep on him.

He got his answer when Tommy mumbled, “I should shower,” his lips ghosting over Buck's neck.

“Want me to run you a bath?” Buck offered.

Tommy shook his head. “Just want in and out.”

He managed to extract himself from Buck, albeit reluctantly, and looked into his eyes for the first time since he got home.

Buck held onto Tommy's arms. “Are you okay?”

“Will be,” Tommy said, leaning in for a kiss. It was chaste, just a press of the lips, but it was exactly what Tommy needed. “We'll talk after I shower, okay?”

Buck nodded. “I'll order the burgers.”

Another kiss, and Tommy headed for the bathroom.

Buck sat on the couch, reaching for his phone to place the order. It was a request Tommy usually had after a bad call or a bad shift or a bad day in general. A bacon cheeseburger, chili fries, and a cherry vanilla milkshake was his comfort food. And when he had his comfort food, he opened up.

It wasn't like he was ever closed off. Quite the opposite, actually. He was always ready and willing to discuss what was on his mind with Buck. They were married, after all. Had been for nearly a year now. But something about being able to consume his favorite foods while discussing what was bothering him made him even more open and vulnerable.

It was something Buck noticed fairly early in their relationship. Two months in, Tommy had a call where he had to airlift a child to the hospital. The child was gone by the time they arrived. That night, Tommy placed a double order of his comfort foods and Buck came over. Tommy talked, and talked, and talked, until they had finished every bite.

Buck hated how much the call had impacted him, but he loved that Tommy trusted him with his problems.

Once the food was gone, Tommy quieted down, settled.

It wasn't until the next time it happened that Buck fully put it together.

Tommy had heard from his dad. A short, three minute phone call that left him on edge. He kept cracking his knuckles, biting at the flesh near the tips of his fingers, trying to explain to Buck why exactly the call had bothered him so much.

He couldn't figure it out until Buck scrolled back on Tommy's phone and replaced that same order from a few months earlier. When the food arrived, they sat on the floor by the coffee table and Tommy spilled out nearly forty years of painful memories with his father.

Buck didn't use this knowledge against Tommy. He didn't sneakily order the food just so Tommy would open up. Buck told him after that second time, how he was better able to speak his mind while he ate those specific foods.

It was something Tommy had never realized, but once he thought about it, he knew Buck was right.

And that's where the tradition-of-sorts started.

Buck let Tommy know that if there was ever a time he didn't want to talk, or didn't want to eat his comfort meal, he didn't have to, but Buck would always be ready to place the order when needed.

Even though Tommy's showers didn't last nearly as long as his baths, the food had arrived by the time he dried off and changed into sweats and one of Buck's t-shirts.

That's another thing Buck had realized early on. Tommy loved wearing Buck's clothes. Realistically, it couldn't happen very often. Tommy was more broad than he was, and Buck's shirts were already tight on himself, but Tommy tried nonetheless.

It's why Buck started ordering some shirts a size bigger. He'd wear them occasionally, but it was mainly for Tommy to put on when he wanted to be endlessly wrapped in Buck.

Buck laid the food out on the coffee table and they both sat, their backs resting against pillows and the couch.

Tommy ran a hand along Buck's thigh, gave it a little squeeze. A silent “thank you.”

“It was a four alarm fire,” Tommy started after taking his first bite of chili fries. “The 118 was there.”

Buck tried to think of who was on shift today. Ravi, maybe? No one else from his team though.

“I was working ground ops for an apartment fire. The fire was on the twentieth floor, there were only a couple floors above it. Anyway, I headed up the stairs, passing all these people along the way. I was telling them, you know, keep moving, keep going, all the normal stuff. I make it to the twenty-first floor, the fire's spreading by that point.”

He paused to take a couple more bites of fries, then sipped on his shake.

“Lots of smoke, I'm going door to door, all empty so far. I go to the next floor, same thing. Everyone's either made it out or they're heading down the stairs.”

He took a deep breath. Opened his burger and took out the tomato, holding it up until Buck removed the top bun from his own burger. He plopped the tomato down on Buck's burger before taking a bite of his own.

This was a regular occurrence. Tommy loved tomatoes, but hated them on a burger. Couldn't stand when they'd get warm. Buck, on the other hand, loved extra tomato on his burger. It was a win-win.

“I was about to start heading back down when I saw the door to the roof was ajar. I go out to the roof and this woman is out there, panicking. Evan, I've never seen anyone so scared.”

Tommy took off the lid to his milkshake and dug around for a fry that didn't have any chili on it. Once he found it, he dipped it in the shake and ate it. “I tried talking to her, telling her to come inside with me and I'd get her downstairs. We couldn't take the fire escape because the flames were coming out and blocking the way. She wouldn't listen though. Just kept crying, sobbing, backing farther and farther away from me each time I'd step toward her. I radioed to see if we could get a chopper to our location, but I could already tell from how high the smoke was rising and the wind that it wasn't gonna be possible.”

Buck listened to every word Tommy spoke as they ate. He'd nod, make facial expressions to match what Tommy was saying, but otherwise stayed silent.

“I told her again that if she'd follow me, I could get her to safety, and I could have, Evan, but she just... she'd never listen to me. She jumped before I could even reach her.”

Buck sucked in a breath. He had a feeling that's where the story was going, but to hear it, and to hear the break in Tommy's voice, still hurt.

“I ran downstairs,” he continued with a shrug. “I don't know why. I knew she wouldn't be alive, but for some reason I still ran and... yeah, she was gone. The only loss from the fire. Even all the animals inside made it out.”

Buck chose his words carefully. He knew Tommy didn't need an “I'm sorry” or “That sucks.” “Panicking can cause people to make irrational decisions,” he decided on. “She may have been so out of it she didn't even realize you were a firefighter.”

Tommy glanced around the coffee table, searching for something until Buck reached into the bag beside him and pulled out a spoon. “Thank you,” Tommy said, grabbing his milkshake and taking a bite. “I guess,” he continued, “I guess I kinda freaked. I don't remember much, but one second I was staring at that woman on the ground and the next I was in an ambulance with my captain telling me to come home to you.”

Buck wiped his hand with a napkin before placing it at the top of Tommy's back, rubbing across his shoulders. “We've all been there, Babe. Never gets any easier.”

“I keep seeing the look in her eyes. Can't get it out of my head.”

Buck squeezed Tommy's shoulder. “What do you need from me?” he asked. It was a question they often asked each other. Sometimes, advice might be needed. Other times, it may be the last thing they want. It could be a movie, a night to sleep alone, going to the gym together, sex, one reading the other a book, getting drunk, anything.

“Can you just... just hold me for a little bit?”

Buck smiled warmly, wrapping his arms around Tommy right away. He pressed a kiss to Tommy's forehead as Tommy maneuvered himself to be snuggled against Buck's chest.

It wasn't the most comfortable position. They'd have to move to the couch soon. But for right now, it was perfect.

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlight prompt: Danny and Duke being childhood friends, but Danny tells Duke the moment the accident happens and such cause he trusts him, only for Danny to go radio silent when giw decide to block the town communications in senior year.

So Duke-does he tell Danny he's Signal or not? Up to you-gets worried the longer no contact goes by.

Maybe the away game thing seen in other posts where the sports team still does away games and Danny gets enough good will with star or dash maybe and they send a message to Duke that's some coded phrase and Duke knows shits going down?

(yourlocalcorviddad, it's a side blog so didn't want to send from main sorry)

Danny is not someone who is on his mind a lot, these days. It’s to be expected, considering how distance and their double lives eat up all the time they have to talk. Really, it’s a miracle that they were able to speak enough to learn about their own individual vigilante work, especially with Duke bouncing around foster homes for a good portion of that time. 

They haven’t spoke in months but that’s normal for them.

Duke thinks he can be forgiven for not knowing something was wrong. He still won’t forgive himself for it.

“Danny’s gone?” he repeats, feeling numb. There’s static ringing in his ears, his entire world hollowing out.

The guy in front of him looks grim, unable to meet Duke’s eyes. Did he introduce himself? Duke can’t remember, can’t keep his spiraling thoughts straight in his head. “He’s gone. His entire family is gone and we haven’t been able to call for help because… well…”

“It’s those guys, right? The ones in white?”

“You know about them?”

“Danny told me. Danny told me a lot about what he did in Amity Park.”

The guy lets out a slow, relieved breath. “Good, then I don’t have to explain. Sorry, it’s just that it’s not something we talk about, especially out in the open. After the last few months, things got really bad. We know the GIW took the Fentons, but we can’t find out how or why and they’ve got us on a tight lockdown.”

“Then how did you get out?” Duke asks. Another arguably more important question pops into his mind a second later. “Actually, how do you know about Danny and… you know. The other things.”

The grimness on the guy’s expression fades away some beneath the sudden shame and embarrassment. “Oh, that. Well, I dunno how much he told you about his, like, daily life, but, um. I’m Dash. Baxter. I bullied him?”

Dash. 

Dash. That’s a name he recognizes. 

Danny’s complained about Dash a lot in the past. Since they were in middle school, really. Duke would always get mad on Danny’s behalf about how terribly he’s being treated, how no one would stop such obvious bullying. And every time, Danny would laugh it off and say in that soft voice of his, It’s alright, Duke, really. Having you care is more than enough for me.

It never stopped the bullying, though, but the way Danny talked about Dash changed when they both entered high school. He was still annoyed about everything Dash did, but there were less insults about him, less venting about every little thing that pissed Danny off about him, as if he just didn’t care anymore.

And there is, of course, the most memorable time Danny called Duke about Dash over the summer.

Hey, Danny, Duke had began, only to be cut off by Danny yelling, I kissed Dash?! Or he kissed me?! What am I supposed to do now!

And Duke, despite the jealousy he felt at hearing that Danny and Dash kissed, laughed so hard he cried while Danny yelled at him to be helpful. 

There wasn’t any discussion on Dash since, beyond a comment here and there about a funny fanboying thing Dash had said about Phantom. The focus of their conversations shifted towards how hard it was to be heroes or vigilantes, quiet reassurances that they’re both doing the best they can, tips traded about best ways to patch themselves up and get through the night. Sometimes, it felt like Danny was the only person in the world to really know Duke; all his pain and promises, his dreams, everything he was Before and who he became in the After.

He’s missed Danny, but the last message Danny sent him told him that things were getting rough in Amity Park, and to not call or contact him until he reached out first.

So Duke trusted in Danny and focused his attention in Gotham, putting his all into becoming a better hero, someone people can rely on. 

He thinks that maybe he should have fallen into the Bats’ bad habits of invading privacy to make sure Danny’s okay. 

Too late for that now, though.

“I know you,” Duke says after a long moment. “He talked about you sometimes. Come with me, we have a lot to discuss.”

Dash looks appropriately nervous, but he doesn’t argue. 

It’s a tense, quiet walk to the library where Barbara works. She’s stationed at the front desk when he arrives and greets him with a smile, eyes flicking towards Dash in question.

“Hey, Babs, got a private study room open?”

Her gaze sharpens and Duke can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through him, knowing that Oracle is ready to look out for him. “Let me check,” she says, turning towards the computer to click around a few pages. “Study room 8 is open.”

That’s the study room with a working lock and soundproofing. It also has cameras and a mic inside, but all the other study rooms have one too, just for safety purposes. Things could always go terribly wrong when people are locked together in a small room, and having video and audio evidence of what happened has assisted in more than a few cases. 

He leads them up to the second floor, past the students studying and the group of young children in the back corner of the library listening intently to a read aloud. 

The only occupied study rooms are those up front, closer to the stairs. The back rooms are empty and quiet, the perfect place for a little impromptu interrogation.

“So,” Duke says as he closes the door to study room 8 behind them. Dash sits down as if this is just a casual conversation, but the way his foot taps against the floor betrays his nerves. “Danny’s gone. And somehow, that lead you to me.”

Dash glance around, then leans closer to drop his voice into a harsh whisper. “The Guys In White got some insane upgrades a few months ago and forced every citizen of Amity Park into a surveillance state. The entire Fenton family is gone, but we all know it’s really because they want Danny.”

“Explain the situation in Amity Park some more.”

“Well. It’s like this: we didn’t take them seriously, so they upped their moves and got us trapped. No one goes in or out of Amity Park without good, verifiable reason. We have a curfew and we can be randomly stopped and searched for ectoplasm or exposure to ghosts. Most of the ghosts have left, but a few of the stronger ones hang around to cause trouble to get the GIW off our backs for a bit.”

“So how did you end up in Gotham?”

“I was invited to tour the college. And since outsiders were expecting me, the GIW let me go. But there’s definitely some that tailed me to Gotham, but I can’t find them at all. Even talking to you now is a huge risk for me.”

Which means they don’t have much time to talk before someone comes looking for Dash. His words, paired with everything Duke’s heard from Danny, paint a deeply unpleasant picture in his mind. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Danny we’re all worried about. He told me before he got caught that if anything happened to him, I should find you. Tucker helped us narrow down where exactly you are and sent you that text to get you to where we met.”

“What do you think I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Dash admits. “But Danny trusts you, and he needs your help.”

Duke was never going to say no to this request to begin with, but damn if those words don’t make him want to run to Amity Park without waiting for anyone else.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll help rescue him and bring down the GIW. You should go now, before they get too suspicious.”

“What are you planning?”

“I got a couple of friends who are good at destroying government property. Trust me, you’ll see what we’re up, we’re pretty noticeable if we’re pissed off enough.”

“Don’t take too long then,” Dash says, standing up, “I expect a good show from you. See you around, man.”

And with that, Dash pats Duke’s shoulder and leaves the study room. Duke doesn’t follow after him.  He’s got a rescue to start planning, and the less time he wastes, the better.

In the end, it’s pretty simple. It’s not a hard mission at all when the time comes for them to act, but the amount of data they gather and have to shift through is daunting. But that’s more Tim and Barbara’s forte, so he trusts them to handle it. 

Together with Red Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat, they hit Amity Park hard and fast. 

One night was spent learning the lay of the land and every station and lab set up by the GIW. The second night was spent burning it all down and tossing open cages full of green blob ghosts and a few transparent, weakly glowing human ghosts. Stronger ghosts, glowing brightly, joined them in a few places with battle cries and maniacal laughter.

They split up and took down all the bases and patrol stations on their own, sweeping through the city like vengeful shadows. 

By dawn, the GIW were in shambles, without any bases or equipment, and rounded up for arrest. 

Cass was the one to find Danny and his family; his parents were forced to create weapons for the GIW under threat of Danny and Jazz’s torture. Danny was locked up like an animal and studied. Jazz had restraints on, including a muzzle, and a bloodthirsty rage in her eyes. Apparently, she had put up the most fight and, while being studied for repeated exposure to ectoplasm and radiation, started biting people.

The Fentons are big names in this conflict. Tim makes the executive decision to burn one of his out-of-state safehouses so they can hide and recover in peace, then promptly moves them into it as soon as the EMTs give them the all clear. They’re gone by the time the sun is rising over the horizon, and the curious Amity Parkers that have gathered behind the blockade of police cars have to be reassured that the Fentons have been taken away for their protection, not for further abuses. Even then, tensions are high and the locals are clearly prepared to start rioting now that they have a chance to fight back.

As vigilantes, they’re not meant to interact with cops much. Perhaps it’s simply their experiences in Gotham that keep them at a distance, disappearing into the neighborhood the moment attention shifts off of them. Either way, Duke is hurrying out of Amity Park with the rest of the team on his heels, eager to return to Gotham and follow up on their own leads to make sure the GIW is properly gutted and dismantled. 

Duke heads off for the Hatch as soon as they reach Gotham, hoping to shed the suit and finally be able to call Danny. The guilt of not noticing how bad things had gotten rolls through his stomach, and more than that, he’s missed hearing Danny’s voice. 

The first few calls go straight to voicemail. Duke leaves a quick message asking Danny to let him know how he’s doing as soon as he can talk. 

Then he goes for a shower and to change into civilian clothes, prepared to make his way to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know how everything went. And hopefully distract him from his Disappointed Father/Leader Lecture about taking on missions behind his back, as if Duke can’t handle himself. And also because Bruce has no leg to stand on when it comes to this. He’s fully prepared to throw that entire lecture back into his face at a moment’s notice.

The post-mission exhaustion is hitting him hard and fast. Duke has to brace himself against the wall once he’s out of the shower, resisting the urge to just lie on the floor and sleep there until he starts feeling more human. 

Somehow, he gets himself into some sweatpants and a plain shirt, pulls on a pair of mismatched socks, and begins gathering his things so he can get to the Batcave. 

He’s in no state to be driving. Maybe someone would be willing to take him there?

Just as he reaches for his phone to thumb through his contacts and see who he can bother, it buzzes in his hand. Duke blames the way he jumps on his exhaustion, then blinks his tired eyes to squint at the name that pops up onto the screen.

Danny.

All at once, his exhaustion fades away. A rush of adrenaline runs through him as he scrambles to accept the call, already pacing around the room so he doesn’t fall asleep. 

“Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence, then the exhale of a breath that turns to static over the call. “Duke,” Danny’s tired voice says. “Duke…”

“You doing okay? I couldn’t get to you before you and your family had to leave and go into hiding, but I’ve been worried about you, man.”

“I’m good. We’re all fine, now. Fentons are strong, you know? We’ll bounce back in no time.”

From what he’s heard about Danny’s family, that’s most definitely true. He’s seen the pictures of walls Jack Fenton has burst through with his body. It’ still hard to believe that no one in the family is a meta, outside of Danny.

“You need anything? I can get it to you, just say the word. Anything at all.”

Danny hums, then asks with a playful note in his voice, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“I need you. How fast can you come meet me? I’ll even pay for express delivery.”

Duke laughs, so relieved at hearing the lightness return to Danny’s voice that he feels weak in the knees. “It’ll be at least two days. I gotta sleep and debrief with Batman before I can see you. It’s gonna take some time to get out of Gotham again.”

“Maybe I can go to you, instead,” Danny suggests. “Fly over and be there is less than an hour.”

“Are you in any shape to be flying right now?”

“I’m fine! Already healing and everything,” Danny insists.

“It might be dangerous if any rogue GIW agents go after you.”

“Well,” Danny says, “That’s why I need to get to my knight in shining armor sooner rather than later, right?”

Duke bites his lip to fight back a smile, blinking his eyes forcefully to keep them from closing under the heavy weight of exhaustion. “Does that make you a damsel in distress?”

“I mean, I did need rescuing, so I guess? I’m not much of a damsel, but I could put on a pretty dress for you. It’ll be like playing pretend when we were kids.”

“Oh, man, I kinda miss those poofy dresses. I think I could still rock on, put it on top of the armor when I go out for patrol.”

Danny snickers. “Signal: the most well dressed vigilante in Gotham.”

“That’s me, baby!”

The last of the agonizing fear that’s choked him since he first talked to Dash finally melts away. Danny’s fine now. Everything’s okay; the GIW are done for and there’s plenty of people willing to look out for the Fentons. This will never happen again.

“Hey,” Danny says, voice suddenly turing more serious. “Send me your location. I wasn’t joking when I said I could fly over to you. And before you say anything! I do need it; Jazz and my parents are smothering me and I just need to get away from everything and pretend all of this never happened.”

The admission softens Duke, makes him shove away everything that tells him this is a bad idea, that Danny needs more rest first, that having Danny fly over alone and without warning any of the Bats fills Duke with anxiety. 

He does miss Danny. More than he can put into words.

“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Come meet me, Danny.”

He texts Danny the location of the Hatch before common sense tells him to be more careful with his base of operations. Not that it matters, anyways; if there’s anyone in the world he trusts with everything, it’s Danny. 

Then he sends the Bats a quick text saying he’s crashing in the Hatch and to not bother him until the sun is fully up two days from now. Oracle gives him a thumbs up emoji, which is a good guarantee that she will personally see to it that no non-emergency messages interrupt his rest and recovery time.

Duke has no idea how long it will take Danny to get to the Hatch, so he putters around, cleaning up the space and straightening it out in an attempt to keep busy enough that he doesn’t crash. Travel really takes it out of him. It’s one of the cons of being born and raised in Gotham: he doesn’t have the stamina to travel outside of it, especially when they were there and back in less than three days.

Thank god for Tim’s many motorcycles and his tendency to see the speed limit as a weak suggestion that can be ignored while on a mission.

Ultimately, the call of sleep is too strong to resist. 

One moment, Duke is sorting through files on the Hatch’s computer, and the next moment, he’s face down on a bed with his face shoved into a pillow. 

Blearly, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and send Danny a typo-ridden text that hopefully gets across the message of might be asleep so just come in, don’t wait for me to answer the door.

He’s out like a light as soon as it sends. The last thing Duke registers is his phone dropping out of his hand and falling against the mattress with a little bounce.

When he begins to wake up, something’s changed. As much as he wants to go back to sleep, awareness comes back to him slowly and Duke forces himself to claw his way out of unconsciousness to figure out what, exactly, is bothering him so much. Until he figures out what’s changed in the room, he won’t be able to sleep because he’ll be worried about someone breaking in.

His mind comes back online long before his body does. It’s only when he tries to move that Duke realizes he’s no longer alone on the bed; there’s someone wrapped up in his arms, body temperature a little too cool to be a normal human.

Blinking open his eyes, Duke looks down at the head of messy black hair and feels Danny’s soft breath ghost across his chest. 

“Danny?” he manages to say, voice rough with sleep. 

Danny hums and doesn’t move.

“Hey, look up. Let me see if you’re really alright.”

“Mmm, no,” Danny mumbles, burrowing his face into Duke’s chest some more. “‘m sleepy.”

A good argument. Duke is also sleepy. 

“Fine,” he says, “Check in the morning, then. G’night, Danny.”

“Night, Duke. Thanks for saving me.”

He tightens his grip on Danny, contentment burning warm in his chest. “Always, Danny. I’ll always save you.”

That’s why he’s a hero, after all. To save others, to reach a hand out to everyone the way he needed when he was younger. To keep the people he loves safe. To make sure Danny always finds a way back to him. 

This is what makes all the pain of this lifestyle worth it.

Danny makes everything worth it.

(@yourlocalcorviddad tagging to make sure you see this!)