#if you need someone to talk to im here for you!

[pitlanepeach]

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warning: SMUT, like literally pure smut no plot, dirty talk, dom!max, maybe mean max, breeding kink, SIR KINK, dutch petnames, spanking, squ!rting, guys im telling you this is filth ohmygod

Notes: I wrote this in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. I was two edibles deep, so… please enjoy this absolute dirty, nasty smut.

You sighed as you stirred the tip of your finger around in your glass, nudging the lone ice cube in slow circles.

In moments like this, you regretted being the dependable one. A less loyal friend would’ve left already—but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave until you knew she was safe.

Closing your eyes, you let out a silent groan.

She’d vanished with some guy hours ago, leaving you with nothing but a wink and the vague promise she’d “be fine.”

The only reason you’d even come tonight was to be her plus one. You didn’t like parties. You didn’t want to be here anymore.

A girl passed by, laughing loudly. You cringed.

Almost 1 a.m.

You adjusted the black frames on your nose and sighed. You had to make a choice. You couldn’t just sit here forever, waiting for her to remember you existed.

You opened your phone and pulled up his contact. Pinned, of course.

—

  To: Max

I feel like a bad friend but I want to come home

  Read: 1:16am

  From: Max

What happened?

  Read: 1:18am

  To: Max

She left with some guy. Not answering. I’m alone

  Read: 1:20am

  From: Max

You at J’s place?

  Read: 1:22am

  To: Max

Yeah x

  Read: 1:22am

  From: Max

Give me ten. I’m coming.

  Read: 1:23am

—

You set your phone down, heart skipping a beat. Your lips tugged into a small smile.

The next twenty minutes, you kept your head down. The last thing you wanted was someone striking up a conversation. You were always awkward with strangers—nervous, stumbling, too much in your head.

You liked to be the “quiet” one. People always assumed you were shy. They didn’t understand it — the kind of strength that silence held.

Growing up, people would always assume that your behaviour was rooted in insecurity. But it never was, not really—you just understood that real power didn’t always need a voice.

So when you met Max at that race afterparty your friend had dragged you to, you hadn’t expected much. But then there he was, standing next to you with that calm intensity in his eyes, offering you a drink and a wry, knowing smile.

And tour world had never been the same since.

—

He didn’t keep you waiting long; never did, if he could help it.

“Hey, schat.” His voice, low and smooth, cut through the noise around you.

You turned—and there he was. Max. In black jeans and a dark tee, blonde hair slightly tousled, looking at you like you were the only person in the room.

He offered you his hand and helped you off the bar stool, his eyes scanning you quickly. “You look good,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “Really fucking good.”

You blushed. “Thanks.”

His arm slipped around your waist, warm and commanding. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

You hesitated. “But… my friend—”

Max didn’t even flinch. “If she wanted a ride home, she should’ve answer her phone. This is her choice.” His tone was simple, final.

You sighed, but you knew he was right.

You let Max lead you to his car—sleek, black, low to the ground. A different kind of power than he had on the track, but still his. He was always in control, and his car screamed it.

—

The drive was beautiful.

Windows down, the night cool, music humming softly through the speakers. His hand on the wheel—precise, steady. You let your hair down and sang along quietly to the music.

He glanced at you. “You’re cute when you sing.”

You smiled. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

He reached across the center console, letting his hand rest on your inner thigh. His voice was low. “You’re mine, lieverd. You say the word, I’m there.”

Your breath caught. The way his fingers brushed higher on your leg, teasing. You pressed your thighs together, heart fluttering.

He noticed.

“Oh,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you feeling needy?”

You nodded.

He smiled darkly. “We’ll be home in five minutes. Try not to fall apart on me before we make it.”

You shivered.

One hand on the wheel. The other on you.

By the time Max pulled into the underground garage, your breath was unsteady and his hand was pressed firmly against the heat between your legs, over your panties.

He killed the engine. Looked at you. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re soaked.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “All for you.”

He didn’t waste another second.

—

“Oh, my girl,” Max growled as he pushed you down onto the bed, voice taut with control. His Dutch accent thickened slightly, low and dangerous. He shoved your white lacy panties to the side, gazing down at you between your thighs, eyes dilating rapidly. “Kijk nou… You’re dripping.”

You whimpered, hips twitching.

“Please, Max…”

His hand landed across your cunt with a sharp slap. You gasped.

“That’s not what you call me.”

You swallowed. “Sorry… Sir.”

His eyes darkened. “Better.”

He stripped you with efficient movements—dress off, panties aside—but he left them on, pushed just far enough for access. Max liked the control of denial. The teasing. The reminder that you were his.

“Are you going to fuck me, sir?” You whispered, wide-eyed.

He leaned forward, lips ghosting your clit. “You want that? Want me to fill you up with my cum, schat? Make you mine forever?”

You nodded desperately.

But Max didn’t rush.

“No,” he murmured against your skin. “Not yet. You’re not desperate enough.”

You were, though.

He dove in, tongue flicking, licking, circling your clit with cruel precision. You cried out, arching off the bed.

“Don’t move.” His hand slammed down on your hip. “If you move again, I stop.”

You nodded quickly, panting. “Yes, sir. I’ll be good.”

He rewarded you with his mouth—devouring, relentless. His stubble scraped perfectly, adding heat and texture and something primal.

He pulled your thighs over his shoulders, his nose pressed into your clit as his tongue circled your entrance.

“Say it,” he ordered. “Say my name.”

“Max,” you moaned.

“Louder.”

“Sir!” you cried, the room spinning around you.

He tutted when you tried to grind up against his lips, pulling back just enough to be able to spank your pussy in one short move. “You don’t get to tease me, meisje.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you breathed, voice shaking.

“Are you going to be a good girl?”

“Yes. Promise.”

He smirked, and his mouth returned to your pussy with punishing intent. He sucked your clit hard while pinching your nipple between two fingers, twisting just the way you liked.

Your body trembled, the edge close.

He looked up, lips wet. “You’re going to come on my face, schatje. You hear me?”

Then he pushed two fingers inside you.

Curled them.

Your eyes rolled back. You were close—so close—

You came hard, release gushing, gasping for air as Max growled in satisfaction, not stopping until you begged him to.

He gently lowered your legs and dragged you down to the edge of the bed. You stared at him, dazed.

“Hi, Maxie,” you whispered shyly.

“How’s my pretty girl doing?”

You clung to him. “Sensitive.”

“Perfect,” he said, lips brushing your temple.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” you asked, biting your lip.

He stood up, stripping calmly. “Your pretty cunt is already mine. But it doesn’t hurt to remind it.”

His cock was thick and long, flushed and leaking. You whimpered.

“You going to beg me, lieverd? Beg me to fuck you?”

“Please,” you whispered. “Please, sir. I need you inside me. Fill me. Ruin me. Make me yours again.”

He kissed you softly, then pushed inside you with one smooth thrust.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Take me like the good girl you are.”

His thrusts were slow at first—deep, deliberate. His hand pressed to your stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock inside you.

“Takin’ me so well,” he murmured, gaze locked with yours.

You clenched around him, already aching to come—but you didn’t dare let go without his permission.

He started to move faster, whispering filth in your ear.

(“Such a good slut for me.”

“My perfect girl.”

“No one fucks you like I do.”)

Each word out of his mouth set you on fire. Your moans grew louder, body trembling, begging, chanting “sir” under your breath.

He saw the tension in your body and slowed, wrapping a hand around your throat.

“You want to come again?”

You nodded desperately. “Please, sir. I need it. I need it. I’m so close.”

“You are only going to come when I reach the count of ten. You understand?” He asked, voice rough and low and full of need.

“Yes, sir.” You breathed out, high-pitched and burning.

He circled your clit with the pad of his thumb, pressing just enough for the pressure to feel like heaven,

“One. Two. Three.”

Then he was fucking you. Without mercy. Without any hint of restraint.

You were sobbing, feeling completely out of control of your body, fisting the bedsheets, sweating, shaking.

He slowed. Gave you a five-count to breathe. Then:

“Four. Five. Six.” He said them so slowly, a smirk in his voice, breathing heavily.

You could hardly think. Could hardly remember how to exist.

“Seven. Eight. Nine.”

Then he fucked you with everything he had—relentless, punishing.

“Ten.”

You exploded around him, sobbing with release, legs shaking violently.

He kept going, chasing his own high, until he came inside you with a sharp, possessive groan. His head pushed into the curve of your neck, the vibration of his moans making your entire body light up with sensation.

Eventually,

Max worked his way down the bed to inspect the damage, peeling your lips apart and placing tiny little kisses on the swollen, red skin.

“You did so good,” he whispered. “Come on. Bathroom. Then bed.”

You clung to him, boneless and warm.

You slept for ten hours that night.

And Max stayed the whole time—holding you, protecting you, keeping you warm.

Because you were his.

Always.

[jesuistrestriste]

hey sage.. so i’ve been thinking about nerdy scientist!art.. i need someone to hear my plea

venus ! ! ! art is canonically really smart so yea. i see this. he was definitely pretty nerdy in high school and it followed him into his college years..

cw (18+) : nerdy!art, mutual touching, coming in pants,

nerdy!art who approaches you after your guys’ organic chemistry class to offer you tutoring services, claiming that he’s heard you talk to others about how you’re struggling with the topics. he smiles all sweet, backpack slung over one shoulder, blonde ringlets hanging in front of his forehead. it’s hard to resist his kindness. you agree.

you meet him in his dorm room a few days later on the weekend and are met with the smell of him wafting through the space. the light scent of sandalwood shampoo and fresh clothes and open books. he ushers you in and beckons you over to his bed, getting out his laptop and beginning to walk you through his notes. he’s incredibly attentive, too—always checking in to make sure you understand what he’s explaining, and always calling out the confused expression that spreads over your face silently when you’re lost. he laughs and shakes his head, “ask me anything, i’m like a human textbook. it’s actually kinda sad.”

after a few hours though, it gets dark. the two of you are left—still studying—in his room, with a singular desk lamp on in the corner. his thigh brushes your own; an accident. but it’s not a mistake when you turn to meet his eyes for the millionth time and you suddenly feel the need to repay him for his time and effort. you kiss him, and he instantly goes boneless against you. he parts his lips instinctually to give you full access to his mouth, his tongue soft and slick and waiting for yours. the moan that spills from his chest when you kiss him harder is lewd, almost egregiously so, but it doesn’t slow him down or embarrass him. he’s too caught up in the feeling of hot ache bursting in his lower stomach, his erection definitely tenting his sweatpants. fingers creep over your thigh, pulling you closer. then he breaks the kiss to mumble into the corner of your mouth, “oh my god, can i touch you? you’re so warm, fuck—“

he feels like he could finish right then and there. when you respond by crashing your mouth into his neck, he slides his hand down the front of your bottoms to seek out your arousal. moans when he finds it with his fingertips and begins gently caressing you with slow, stuttered circles of his digits. your hand finds his bulge and then it’s nearly over—

“fuck!” he whimpers, curling forward, “fuck, fuck, i’m sorry, im gonna come if you touch me like that..”

but you don’t care. you don’t want to stop. what does it matter if he finishes fast? it’s flattering. you wonder if he’s a virgin.

your touch wraps around his clothed length and gives it four slow tugs before he’s choking on a wet whine and grasping at your shirt with his free hand, his fingertips halting on your sex. you feel his cock throb with the thrums of his orgasm, and you smirk as you kiss his jaw. he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle the resulting groan.

“sorry.. so sorry..” the words come out breathless and flustered into your frame, his entire body still twitching as he comes down, “i don’t usually—.. hngh.. —that fast.. god..”

you shrug. you tell him it’s no big deal, and how you’re chill with it. you make sure to emphasize how hot it is that he’s sensitive. he lets out a shaky sigh.

“i selfishly hope that you don’t do super well on the quiz,” he whispers, “so you can come back here next week and.. and we can do this all over again..”

you lathe your tongue over his pulse. he shudders like he’s being shocked; tense and erratic.

—

you get a few questions wrong—on purpose—on the knowledge check so that you can present the low grade to him afterwards. he smiles nervously and leans in, “come with me back to mine? i just made a new set of flashcards..”

it only takes five minutes of being back in his dorm before you’re all over each other; your hand in his hair, his hips pressed to yours, his moans filling your head.

best tutor ever.

[kittynugg]

okay so i did do this yesterday but some of these have changed since then so mamma mia here i go again

favorite color: blue (unchanged)

last song: ...well, better than the alternative from will wood but i now have mamma mia by abba stuck in my head

currently reading: still the body snatchers by jack finney (1955) which, as i said, is your fault you wench/lh

currently watching: i decided that the next movie im gonna watch will be monsters inc, i dont watch shows other than gravity falls

currently craving: reading yours has made me also crave a burrito. the way my mom makes it (sh e used to work at a taco bell)

coffee or tea: i woke up at 4:30 this morning to an open water bottle laying on my mattress along with a puddle. not soaked blankets, a puddle. because my water bottle is very large and had a lot of water in it. i went to bed with a packet of instant coffee on my nightstand and i will be utilizing it.

(realistically probably not since i have ice for iced tea which i very much prefer over coffee but i just need to talk about that harrowing experience. also need brown sugar and a southern accent)

more tags time!! im tagging exclusively people from my notes this time

@whywouldyouwantthisurl @jellybeanjo @jubileebloom @bren-the-chicken @yukismind JAMIE PFP SPOTTED. UNDERRATED also you told me to go to sleep once and im still offended/j @oxyphara

i dont think im mutuals with any of you in fact im not but i just like jumpscaring people and showing them "hey i see you!! :]" because i always get really happy when someone on here i like gives me the slightest amount of attention

no pressure if you dont want to answer and im sorry if i tagged you on the first time i answered this i did just say i woke up half past four

get to know your moots tag game ! ✶ answer the questions, then tag six people

favorite color ꕀ green and brown last song ꕀ tú by maye currently reading ꕀ the luminaries by susan dennard currently watching ꕀ the great british baking show currently craving ꕀ massaman curry. like always. and like. alcohol and a couple cigs HAHA. a break too :P coffee or tea ꕀ always tea! i don't like coffee

ty for the tag @saltcxrcle ! tagging: @lelapine @toadspondofwhimsy @outof-spite @h0neyst4rz @hhoneylemon @our-lady-of-venom

[batsandbirdbrains]

I want to read this so badly I’m begging someone to write some variation of it pls

The one where Dick isn’t the step-dad, he’s the dad that stepped up

Im fiddling around w the ages because it’s more fun that way. Also it’s in the yj cartoon universe but the timeline will be wonky bc I didnt care for seasons 3&4. So anyway let’s make it post season 2, Dick is 16ish, and like so many of my other yj fic ideas, he’s currently heavily disliked by most JL and yj team members bc of the whole deep cover thing. Also Artemis never went back to be Kaldur’s backup, she refused, so Dick did double time as both Nightwing and Renegade, Deathstroke’s apprentice. He and Bruce had a falling out bc Bruce didn’t like how he didn’t do everything perfectly while Bruce was gone.

So anyway Dick is living in Blüdhaven, his exhausted, he’s not taking very good care of himself, he’s running himself ragged as both Nightwing and also at his day job at a seedy dive bar.

And one night he comes home, ready to face plant on his dusty couch, only to be greeted by his arch nemesis: Talia al Ghul.

He can’t fuckin stand her. The feeling is very mutual.

Talia was very close with Bruce when Dick was younger. Dick was definitely not super jealous at the time. Also definitely didn’t let her words about him not being his real son get under his skin. That never happened.

And now she’s sitting in his couch, looking around and judging his non-existent decor. With a tiny kid next to her.

The tiny kid looks equally disgusted with the apartment. And way too much like Bruce for Dick’s comfort.

“Is this a hallucination or is there actually a succubus sitting in my living room,” Dick manages to say in a bored voice.

“Charming as always, Richard,” Talia says back at him. Before he can reply, she continues with, “I’m here on important business, so please for once drop the attitude with me.”

“And what’s so important you’ve dragged a toddler into my humble abode?”

“Tone,” she snaps at him, and he snorts at her. She’s not his mother, she doesn’t get to lecture him on his snotty attitude with her.

“Look, if you’re looking for Bruce, you’re way off target. We haven’t spoken in months. You’d think you and your little spies would know that.”

“Of course I know that,” she huffs at him. “That’s exactly why I’m here with you. I need you to do something very important for me.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that? Drop dead for ya so your little Bruce clone over there gets all my inheritance? I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear he’s cut me off entirely, so no need to worry.” He sways a bit as he turns around, and he only limps a little bit as he heads to his fridge. Not that there’s anything in there, but maybe if he rummages around and stares at it long enough, food will appear. He doesn’t pull his head out of the fridge before saying in a mocking tone, “You can leave now.”

“I need you to raise Damian.”

Dick stares at the flickering lightbulb in his fridge, the hum of it buzzing between his ears.

“I must finally be completely nuts,” he says, straightening up, hand still on the fridge door, “because I could’a swore I heard you just say you want me raising the love child you must’ve had with the man who kicked me to the curb six months ago.”

“Richard, will you take this seriously please?”

The way her voice sounds almost desperate is what gets Dick to finally turn around.

“Are you serious?” he asks. “You’re being forreal right now?”

“I’m being completely serious,” she tells him. “I don’t want my son anywhere near my father. I want him raised by a good man.”

“So take him to Bruce! What do you need me for?”

“Did you not just admit that Bruce kicked you out?” She said slowly to him. “You, his sixteen year old son-“

“Ward.”

“-who he once used to tell me was the light of his life? He turned on you, just like that. The boy he’d raised for eight years. Richard, you are still a minor-“

“Then why are you asking me to raise your baby?” Dick screeches.

“M’not a baby!”

“Oh my God, it talks!”

“Richard!” Talia is pinching the bridge of her nose. She looks like she’s regretting the decision to come here. Good.

“Richard,” she says again, softer. “Please. You are a better man than Bruce Wayne. You know that.”

“Do I?” he laughs, feeling so out of his league right now. He has no idea what’s happening.

“You’re a smart boy, Richard, I know you’ll figure this out.”

“You’re really leaving your kid with a kid?”

“You’ve graduated high school, haven’t you?” she says, as if that means anything. “Quite the achievement for one your age, considering all your extra curricular activities. Not to mention saving the world from an alien invasion.”

Dick’s face darkens at the mention of it, and for some reason, he doesn’t immediately want to shrug off the hand Talia lays on his shoulder.

“You’re a good man,” she says gently. “You’re bright. You’re resourceful. You will be good for him. Better than anyone else he might be able to go to.”

He’s overwhelmed. He’s still in his Nightwing costume. He’s covered in dried blood and mud. He’s tired.

But now Talia is leaving, and there’s a two year old mini-Bruce sitting on his couch staring into his soul.

“Okay,” Dick breathes. “It’s okay. We’re okay. Uh-“

Dick doesn’t know what to do. Damian is still staring at him. Dick’s not sure he’s even blinking.

“Do you like Frosted Flakes?”

Damian’s never had Frosted Flakes. Dick remedies that immediately. Damian’s smile after his first bite is enough to ease the tightness in Dick’s chest just a little bit. He ends up getting Damian safely tucked into bed, leaving the door to his room ajar so he can go have a breakdown in the living room so he doesn’t disturb him.

Of course Dick will raise Damian. He doesn’t really have any other choice, does he? Plus, he’s somehow already managing to worm his way into Dick’s heart. God, is this what Bruce felt like when Dick first came to live with him-

No.

He stops that thought immediately. He’s nothing like Bruce. He’ll never be anything like Bruce. Because now that Damian is his, he won’t ever let him go, he won’t ever make Damian leave just because he might do something Dick doesn’t like. Damian is his now, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Damian always knows that.

Except Dick is broke, and there’s hardly anything edible in this apartment, and his job doesn’t pay well enough to support himself and a toddler.

And Dick doesn’t have that many options on who to call for help.

So after a week of juggling his job and his new kid and a bunch of different possible outcomes, he makes a decision.

And the next night, he shows up on doorstep with Damian asleep in his arms and an overstuffed bag strapped to his back.

Slade only raises an eyebrow.

“What’s with the kid?”

“He’s mine,” Dick chokes out. “Don’t question it. Please.”

Slade just sighs, then steps aside to let Dick in the door. The house is familiar, Dick spent a lot of time here during his stint as Renegade. It used to feel so suffocating, being in Deathstroke’s home. Now it feels like a relief.

“What are you doing here, kid? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Slade asks, sitting in a chair and swirling a half-empty glass of whiskey. He motions for Dick to sit on the couch across from him, and he does after a moment of shimmying the bag off his back without jostling Damian too much.

He sits there for a moment, Damian on his lap with his face tucked against his chest. He has one hand twirling Damian’s hair between his fingers, and he doesn’t look up when he speaks.

“You said I could come back anytime,” Dick says. “No questions asked.”

“I think you and I both know that didn’t apply to a situation like this.”

“Please,” Dick pleads. “I need the work. So I can take care of him.”

Slade’s face changes, but he doesn’t say anything. They’re both quiet for a long time, Dick trying to focus on the soft breaths from Damian as he sleeps. Eventually, Slade stops swirling the glass so he can bring it up to his mouth to empty the rest of it.

“You can stay in your old room for now,” Slade says, getting up. “But we’ll be relocating by the end of the week.”

Dick doesn’t know what to say, just stays rooted to the couch, hugging Damian a little tighter. Slade sees it and lets out a huff of a laugh.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll pick somewhere with good schools for the kid.”

Dick’s mind is moving like molasses as Slade walks behind the couch, grips his shoulder, and leans close enough to whisper in Dick’s ear, “Welcome back, Renegade.”

Dick waits until he hears Slade move into the kitchen to bring Damian and their stuff up to his old room. It still looks the same, not that it had many personal touches to begin with. A couple trinkets. Some souvenirs from jobs. A picture he and Slade had taken together, posing as tourists while they scoped out a target. If you squint, they almost look like a family.

Dick tucks Damian into bed, making sure he has the stuffed elephant he insisted he needed so he and Dick could match. It had been $30 - completely outrageous for a stuffed doll, in Dick’s humble opinion - but the way Damian’s face looked so excited at the prospect of having a similar kind of toy to the one he knew Dick had made him instantly cave. Dick had to beg off the cooks at the bar for a few free to-go boxes for a few days afterwards, but it had been worth it.

Dick shuts off the light, leaving the curtains drawn enough for the light from the moon to shine in just in case Damian woke up before morning, then collapsed into the bed next to him. He wrapped his arm around Damian, wanting to keep him safe, to let him know Dick was right there if he needed anything.

And Dick went to sleep trying not to feel like he just sold his soul. It will be worth it. It has to be worth it.

[nrc-asteryn-crew]

Seeing how close Casimir was to reaching back out to him, only to hesitate, and draw back, Mace couldn't help but frown. A little more, a little further, and he could have convinced himself it was but an indulgence, an action he couldn't avoid. His gaze lingered, but eventually was captured by what was being spoken.

He huffed a soft laugh, one that captured the slightest hints of a somber mood. Casimir shouldn't even be considering a wish for something like that. Not without knowing what kind of person he really was, that he could never escape from being.

"The past is the past, all that matters now is that we look into the future. There's plenty of hope out there for you." He mumbled softly, allowing Casimir the quiet environment to think with no inturruptions, so he could truely express his desires and his determination through these penned words.

Leaning forward slightly to watch the writing of the letter, the smooth glide of the pen across the page, he stayed sat in silence, fighting the urges to bolt and also sink into the ground simultaneously.

Mace felt his face grow warmer at all of the affirmations being directed at him. First, Casimir was saying that Mace was a 'dear friend' to him, and now that he was 'glad to have met him', and 'lucky to consider him a friend'? ...Just what had he allowed himself to do?

On the surface, he was flustered by the sweet notions, looking away with a light red hue over his cheeks, not quite knowing how to handle them, but deep down, he was scared. He wanted to voice reciprocation, try and decieve Casimir for a little longer, that he surely wouldn't ever regret meeting him, letting him in, but the words were stuck in his throat, they wouldn't budge.

He stared at the sealed envelope, and all it held, what it meant, then glanced at Casimir. ...Surely, just for a little while, he could be selfish. Until this sense of forboding went away, he told himself. Once Casimir had finished addressing it, Mace slumped against Casimir's side, leaning onto him, resting his head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. Even if a little uncomfortable for him, it felt... nice. Warm.

Despite Casimir's words from earlier, he felt an unbridled urge to apologise suddenly wash over him. Apologise for all the misfortune he brings and is involved with, apologise for being so out of touch, so stuck in his own thoughts and feelings, apologise for not knowing quite how to express anything meaningfully personal quite right, apologise for having even having made himself a part of Casimir's life, despite how much Mace seems to mean to him.

A breathless 'sorry' under his breath would have to do. One that could be interpreted countless ways, had it even been heard. No one but him would understand the true meaning those five letters held, their crushing weight.

(...open!!!! Idk if anyone has any kind of interest in this arc as it slowly plays out but.)

A tall, elegant seeming young man wandered through the halls of Diasomnia, clearly on a mission. He seemed to take in his surroundings with a sense of wonder and fascination glimmering in his eyes, but said nothing as he observed.

Eventually, he seemed to take a turn down the first year wing, an odd sight for someone who was clearly a young adult.

He stopped by a room at the end of the hall, checking the number on the door before knocking.

"Casimir. Would you be so kind as to open the door?" The man asked in a monotonous voice, his expression devoid of any sort of emotion.

[youmakemyhearthowl]

Heres the thing about Evan 'Buck' Buckley and who he DESERVES to end up with.

Buck deserves someone obsessed (healthy) with him. Someone whos all in and can't get enough of him, because lets be honest, hes fucking sunshine. Should that be Eddie? Sure, the foundation is there for it and they are good for eachother.

That being said though, I'd be perfectly content seeing them stay just best friends. Because they are good together and its beautiful to see friendship like that shown on tv especially between two guys.

Heres the thing though, if they just stay best friends Buck cant' end up with ANY of his past partners, especially Tommy.

Now hear me out okay? I don't dislike Tommy because he isn't Eddie, I dislike Tommy because hes a jackass. Hes biphobic at best, emotionally abusive at worst. Look at how he talks to Buck, how he treats Buck like hes stupid or immature because Buck is 30 something and just found out he likes dudes and is scared?? Get real, thats a dick move. Baby gays are still gay and know what they want but its terrifying to learn this at an older age, to try to embrace something new. (Its terrifying at any age but you get what I mean) and then Tommy shoves Buck out of the closet in front of EVERYONE and dosen't even try to stop it, to make sure its something Buck would be okay with. And he talks down on Buck, talks to Buck the same way his parents do and if you care about Buck in ANY capacity youd want better for him.

I'm sick of the writers acting like its okay to have these on again off again relationships that are hurtful, especially to a character that has been used for nothing but other peoples needs his WHOLE life. Like sure people can have on again off again relationships that aren't bad but thats not the case with ANY of Bucks past partners, and to have him end up with any of them would be a real fuck you to people like Buck. People with abandonment issues and trust issues and so so much love to give with nowhere to put it.

So if Buck ends up with ANYONE, even if its not Eddie I BEG the writers to make a new character for that place in his life. A KIND person who sees Buck as an equal, who wants to just be around him and his amazing friendship with Eddie. Someone who sees who Buck is, what hes been through and understands that Buck DESERVES weird crazy obsessed with eachother friendships because hes fought fucking HARD to get them. Worked for them and keeps working for them.

Im a Buddie shipper through and through, but I'm okay if they don't end up together as long as whoever Buck ends up with LOVES him, all of him, and its a healthy beautiful relationship. Because those are real and people find them and if anyone deserves it, its Buck.

[elswhore]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍 𝟎𝟎𝟐

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ─ none so far. meeting abby.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ @kalan1z @vahnilla

you stand in the living room, your eyes catching on a framed photo on the shelf, you and your dad at a carnival two summers ago, your face smeared with cotton candy, his arm slung around your shoulders, both of you laughing.

the memory feels like a lie now, tainted by his words. you frown, your chest tightening, and turn away, unable to bear the sight.

you grab your backpack, the weight of textbooks a flimsy anchor against the chaos in your head, and head out for school.

you have a morning class, and though the thought of sitting through a lecture makes your skin crawl, staying here, surrounded by his absence, is worse.

the city is gray and damp, the air heavy with the promise of rain as you step out of the apartment building.

your sneakers scuff against the cracked concrete of the stoop, your hoodie pulled up against the chill.

you’re halfway down the steps when you notice someone standing in front of the porch, blocking your path.

she’s tall, broad-shouldered, with blonde hair pulled back in a tight braid and arms crossed over a worn leather jacket.

her presence is commanding, like she owns the space she’s standing in, and her blue eyes lock onto you with an intensity that makes your stomach twist.

you don’t know her, and in this neighborhood, strangers who look this confident are rarely good news.

“hey” she says, her voice low but firm, taking a step closer. “you’re his kid, right? we need to talk.”

you bristle, your guard up, the voicemail’s sting still fresh. “i don’t know you” you snap, brushing past her, your shoulder bumping hers as you head for the sidewalk.

“leave me alone.” she doesn’t back off, falling into step beside you, her boots thudding against the pavement. “im not here to mess with you” she says, keeping pace despite your quickening strides.

“it’s about your dad, i know he’s been gone a while.” you ignore her, your jaw tight, focusing on the rhythm of your steps.

the street is busy—cars crawling through morning traffic, pedestrians weaving past with umbrellas—but her presence is a weight, impossible to shake.

you don’t trust her, don’t trust anyone right now, not after your dad’s words, not after the secrets you’ve uncovered.

for all you know, she’s part of whatever he was mixed up in, here to scam you or worse.

“Look, I know you’re pissed,” she says, her voice steady, undeterred by your silence.

“but you need to hear this, it’s about ellie williams.” the name stops you cold, your sneakers skidding to a halt on the wet pavement.

Ellie Williams.

you heard it yesterday, whispered by tommy in that dive bar, a name that carries the weight of fear and power.

you turn to face the woman, your eyes narrowing, searching her face for any hint of a lie.

she’s unflinching, her gaze steady, but there’s a flicker of something—sympathy, maybe?—that makes your skin prickle.

“what about ellie williams?” you ask, your voice low, barely hiding the tremor of anger and desperation.

she opens her mouth to answer, but you’re not ready to hear it, not from a stranger, not when your heart’s still raw.

you shake your head, turning away, and start walking again, faster this time. “forget it” you mutter.

“I don’t need your help.”

“hey, wait!” she calls, her voice sharper, cutting through the city’s hum. “your dad—he was in deep with her, you want answers, you’re not gonna find them alone, i know things, things about him, about what happened.”

you freeze, your back to her, your hands clenching into fists, the mention of your dad, the implication that she knows something about his disappearance, is a hook in your gut.

you spin around, closing the distance between you in two strides, and grab her by the collar of her jacket, yanking her close.

she’s taller, stronger, but you’re fueled by rage, by the need to know. “what do you know about my dad?” you demand, your voice shaking, your knuckles white against the leather.

“tell me, or i swear—” she doesn’t

flinch, doesn’t push you away.

her eyes meet yours, calm but piercing, like she’s seen worse than an angry kid.

“easy” she says, her voice low, almost soothing. “im not your enemy, but you’re in over your head, and you don’t even know it.” she reaches into her pocket, and you tense, ready to bolt or fight, but she pulls out a small card, plain white with a phone number scrawled in black ink.

she slips it into your hand, her fingers brushing yours, and you flinch at the contact.

“call me when you’re ready to listen” she says, stepping back, her hands raised in a gesture of peace.

“Name’s Abby. I’m not going anywhere.”

you stare at the card, your grip on her collar loosening until your hand falls to your side, abby, the name means nothing to you, but the weight of her words, the mention of Ellie and your dad, is a storm in your mind.

you want to demand more, to shake her until she spills everything, but the city is watching—passersby glancing your way, cars honking in the distance—and you’re suddenly aware of how exposed you are.

you shove the card into your pocket, your eyes burning with unshed tears, and turn away without another word.

she doesn’t follow this time, but you feel her gaze on your back as you walk toward school, the card a heavy presence in your jeans.

you don’t know that abby’s been watching you for days, tracking your movements since your dad’s body hit the bottom of the lake.

you don’t know that she’s ellie’s rival, a mafia boss with her own empire, looking for a way to dismantle ellie’s operation.

───────────────────────────

you’ve been carrying abby’s card in your pocket for a day, its edges worn from your fingers brushing over it, the scrawled number a taunting lifeline.

You’ve thought about it too much, the weight of abby’s offer—her claim to know things about your dad, about ellie—pressing against your resolve.

now, you’re outside a playground late at night, the kind of place kids abandon when the sun sets, leaving swings creaking in the wind and slides glistening with dew.

the streetlights cast long, flickering shadows, and the air is cool, heavy with the scent of damp grass and distant exhaust.

you’re perched on a bench, your hoodie pulled up, the playground’s rusted jungle gym looming like a skeleton in the dark.

your phone is in your hand, abby’s card pinched between your fingers, the number glowing on the screen.

your thumb hovers over the call button, your heart a drumbeat of hesitation and resolve.

this is a line you can’t uncross, a step into the city’s underbelly where your dad’s secrets live.

but you’re tired of being the kid left behind, tired of the voicemail’s poison seeping into you.

you need to know.

you press call, the ring cutting through the night’s quiet.

abby picks up on the second ring, her voice low and calm, like she was expecting you.

“took you long enough” she says, a hint of a smirk in her tone.

you swallow, your throat tight. “i want to know more” you say, the words spilling out before you can second guess them. “about ellie. about my dad. whatever you know, i’m in.”

there’s a pause, then she says “good. meet me at the old gas station on 7th and harbor, one hour, come alone.”

the line goes dead, and you’re left with the weight of your decision.

you shove the phone in your pocket, your breath visible in the chilly air, and head out, the playground fading into the night behind you.

the gas station is a relic, its pumps long dry, the neon sign above the convenience store flickering with a sickly yellow glow.

the lot is empty except for a black SUV parked in the shadows, its engine idling.

you approach, your sneakers crunching on gravel, your pulse a steady thrum of adrenaline.

the driver’s door opens, and abby steps out, her broad frame unmistakable even in the dim light.

her blonde braid catches the glow of a streetlight, and her leather jacket creaks as she crosses her arms, sizing you up with those piercing blue eyes.

she’s not alone. a woman leans against the SUV, smaller, she’s dressed plainly—jeans, a worn jacket, a scarf loose around her neck—like she’s trying not to stand out.

“you’re late” abby says, but there’s no real bite in it.

she gestures to the woman beside her. “this is nel, she works with me.”

mel nods, her eyes flicking over you, assessing, but she doesn’t smile.

there’s a quiet intensity to her, like she’s seen too much and learned to keep it locked away.

you don’t know her, don’t trust her, but abby’s confidence in her is a tether in this unsteady moment.

you shift, shoving your hands in your pockets, the card still tucked against your palm.

“so, what’s this about?” you ask, your voice steadier than you feel.

“you said you know something about my dad. about ellie williams.”abby leans against the SUV, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp.

“i do, but first, you need to understand what you’re stepping into, ellie runs this city’s dark side—drugs, guns, you name it. your dad was one of her runners, small-time but loyal. until he wasn’t.”

you flinch, the voicemail’s echo—a burden—stinging anew. “tommy told me he was working for her” you say, your voice tight

“but he didn’t know where he is, you said you do, so tell me.” abby exchanges a glance with mel, who shifts, her scarf slipping slightly to reveal a faint scar on her collarbone.

“it’s not that simple” abby says, her tone measured.

“ellie’s not just some thug you can confront, she’s a ghost, untouchable, and her crew’s loyal to the bone, you want answers, you gotta play the game, that’s where mel comes in.”

mel straightens, her voice soft but clear. “im a cleaner for ellie,” she says, and you frown, confused.

“not like mopping floors, i clean up… messes. evidence, bodies, whatever she needs gone. im in her orbit, close enough to see things, hear things. but I’m not one of hers. not really.”

you stare at her, processing. A cleaner.

someone who scrubs away ellie’s crimes.

the thought makes your stomach churn, but it also sparks a flicker of hope.

if mel’s that close to ellie, she might know where your dad is—or what happened to him.

“so, you’ve seen my dad?” you ask, stepping closer, your voice urgent. “you know where he is?” mel’s eyes flicker, a shadow passing over them, but she doesn’t answer right away.

abby cuts in, her voice firm. “here’s the deal, mel’s got access, but she’s risking her neck to feed me intel. i want Ellie’s empire, and you want your dad. we can help each other, but i don’t give out information for free. you work with us—get inside ellie’s crew, pass us what you learn—and we’ll get you what you need.”

you freeze, the weight of her words sinking in, work with them, infiltrate ellie’s crew. ot’s a suicide mission, a dive into the very world that swallowed your dad.

you think of mel, this quiet woman who cleans up bodies, who might have seen your dad, who might hold the key to everything.“what do you know about him?” you press, your voice shaking but defiant, locking eyes with abby. “you said you know something about my dad, tell me now, or i walk.”

abby’s jaw tightens, but mel speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. “i can’t say anything yet” she says, and there’s a tremor in her words, a guilt you don’t catch.

“not until you’re in, it’s too risky—for all of us.” you want to scream, to grab her and shake the truth out, but abby’s watching you, her expression unyielding.

“you want him back, you play by my rules” she says. “mel’s seen things, heard things, she’ll get you what you need, but only when we’ve got what we want.”

you don’t know that mel was there, five days ago, in that derelict warehouse when ellie forced your dad to record that voicemail, her gun pressed to his temple.

you don’t know that mel watched, her hands trembling, as your dad’s voice broke, saying he regretted you, each word a lie to protect you from ellie’s wrath.

you don’t know that Mel cleaned up after, scrubbing blood from the concrete, her scarf hiding the tears she couldn’t shed, while your dad’s body was weighted and dumped in the lake.

you don’t know that abby’s seizing this chance, using your pain as leverage, because so few dare to cross ellie, and you’re a rare recruit—driven, desperate, with nothing to lose.

all you know is the voicemail, the betrayal, the name ellie williams, and now this deal, dangling answers just out of reach.

you clench your fists, the playground’s shadows pressing in, and nod. “fine” you say, your voice hard. “im in, but you better not be lying.”abby smirks, a glint of approval in her eyes. “good choice, mel’ get you started. welcome to the game.”

mel hands you a burner phone, her fingers brushing yours and you feel a chill that has nothing to do with the night air.

you’re in now, no turning back, and the truth about your dad is closer—and more dangerous—than ever.

───────────────────────────

[atiny-for-life]

I need to rant about German politics for a second.

Finally - FINALLY - they decide the AfD is right wing extremist in its entirety! FORK FOUND IN KITCHEN - THANK YOU - if they'd moved any slower, we would've been going backwards in time, motherf- WE COULD HAVE HAD A SPD/Grüne/DieLinke COALITION, you dipshits - AAAAAAH!!!

Like, dude, Weidel has called Hitler left wing while actively talking to Elon Musk. Höcke has said extremist stuff a la HITLER on MULTIPLE OCCASIONS - hell, even his own party members couldn't differentiate between Höcke's and Hitler's quotes. Members of the party have also been closely associated with right wing extremists from across the world for YEARS (remember Potsdam in 2023?) - not to mention the whole Remigration bullshit and all the convicted criminals that are or were members of the AfD.

Meanwhile we've got Jens fucking Spahn from the CDU who wanted everyone to treat the AfD like they're not fucking FASCISTS which is so bad even friggin' SÖDER was like "woah, slow down" and that guy's a monster himself.

For years now, the CDU have been turning into the AfD with their hatred for refugees and immigrants, they're sexism and homophobia, their transphobia and disregard of human rights. If they're is a hell, you're going there, Friedrich Merz - have fun.

The friggin' spike in right wing hate crimes over recent months. The murder of Lorenz A. at the hands of police who SHOT HIM IN THE BACK 3 TIMES (a 21-year-old black KID shot in the back - the eleventh victim at the hands of police this year alone - last year there were 22 victims which was the highest its been in 41 YEARS!!!).

And, dude, if I even just think about all the ways in which we've failed the people in Afghanistan, I wanna cry. And if you're German and you don't know why that is, please watch this video and listen to their story:

I'm fucking tired, man. This is just the 20th century all over again, except on steroids because we know where we're heading and yet there's still people who are too asleep, too uneducated, too ignorant and selfish to see it.

Anyway, if you're stuck in this country like me, please try to stay on top of the news and, if you find out someone locally is set to be deported, make sure to sign any petition you come across and help in any way you can to create a ruckus so they might be saved.

In my area, there was recently a family taken in the middle of the night and they were from Syria and got deported to fucking SPAIN while their eldest daughter was left behind since she had managed to find a job. They literally took them at night because they knew the community would've stopped them otherwise!

And in Hamburg, a 12-YEAR-OLD CHILD is set to be deported and the class has been gathering signatures to save her. Please sign the petition here if you can:

But let's also remember the good. There are endless protests and demonstration on the regular so we're not alone in this - far from it. I'm pretty sure this is the most active I've seen communities be in my entire lifetime:

[nemesyaaa]

ugjdjxjsjdjd this is literally so sweet and feel so good to read something like this in a friday night. tysm for this pretty little story with sherif!rafe. i love him and this au so much, im fucking invested on those two bc this is so my thing. the western/southern vibes is such an interesting topic on story. anyways, such a fan of this one 🙂‍↕️ especially the trope we're fighting but come here 🥴 yum yum

“i know we’re fighting, but come here..” at this, you met his gaze. as much as you wanted to hold a grudge and make him feel what you felt when he introduced you as something you’re not, you needed to feel his arms around you more than anything else. jaw clenching, you stood up and made your way over to where he sat. with hesitant hands, rafe held onto your waist before embracing you and taking you into his lap. — i can re read this part again and again. and this other one (wait)

taking that as you bidding him your permission, he sat down, hating the amount of space between you two. “i’m sorry,” he started, “i’ve never been in a predicament like this, alright? i don’t know the first thing about being with someone, let alone with someone like you. we’re nothing alike, but i find myself drawn to you anyways. i get mad at you, and i tell you shit, because i care. i care about how you go through this world, and i care about how people treat you. i hate hearing the way people talk about you, ‘saying that you just tear through town causing all sorts of trouble when they don’t know anything about you.” rafe swallowed thickly. — gagged 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

♡ sheriff!rafe and farmer’s!daughter!reader get into an argument after an old friend spots them together..

warnings: implied age gap, secrecy, implication of rafe and reader’s age gap being taboo, rafe calls reader his niece, arguing, crying, angst, brief mention of reader’s mom leaving her and her dad, reassurance + comfort, fluff

wc: 2.1k

rafe glanced around the room, his guard standing tall as you hummed to the song playing over the old speakers from the jukebox in the corner. flipping through the restaurant’s menu, you looked up and kicked rafe under the table once you saw how tense he was. “you’re stressin’ me out, can you stop that already?” you rolled your eyes, wishing he wasn’t so uptight about someone from back home seeing you two out together. you were already in a different town for crying out loud!!

rafe grumbled an apology before taking a swig from his beer, his eyes softening once he saw the slightly hurt expression on your face. “we’re not committing a crime by having dinner.. for once, can you just let loose someplace that isn’t in private?” rafe swallowed thickly, giving you a curt nod before the waitress walked up to your booth. “are you ready to order babe?” she chirped, flashing you a sweet smile while she held her pen to her notepad. “yes ma’am, may i get your classic cheeseburger, and make the fries extra crispy with that, please?” she hummed, quickly scribbling on the paper.

“and for you.. sir?” you cleared your throat awkwardly at the formality, considering just moments ago she called you ‘babe’. ignoring the implication that rafe was obviously an older gentleman, he gave the waitress his order and let out a scoff once she disappeared into the kitchen. “i think you care too much about what people think about us, rafe.” you took a sip from your cherry cola, your feet rocking back and forth in your boots as the man in front of you eyed you carefully. “i am the way that i am because i don’t want people to scrutinize you. you could only imagine the type of things people say when they see people in a relationship like ours.”

you shook your head, sighing out in frustration. “we’ve been screwing in the motel across the street all weekend, haven’t we?” rafe’s eyes widened at your words, his voice lowering as he leaned in and gritted his teeth. “will you keep your voice down?!” he whispered. “i’m just saying! it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, we’re far past the point of caring, no?” rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he gripped the beer in his hand even tighter. “yeah, you would think that.” your head shot up at his words, your gaze narrowing at him as you felt your stomach churn.

“and why is that? because i’m too young to understand?” you felt your patience dwindling down with each passing second rafe didn’t respond, “i’m not too young for you when you want me to understand how you want me to suck you off.” rafe blinked, his nostrils flaring as he adjusted the hat on his head. “don’t do that.” he warned you, his voice coming out hard and still. maybe it was the angry feeling you had brewing in your chest, but suddenly you felt the urge to keep pushing his buttons. “don’t do what? tell you the truth?” here we go..

“you know— you go around town sitting up on your moral high horse, acting like you’re so righteous, but really you’re just like every man out there. you want to have your way with me, which you ultimately do, but you want me without facing the reality of it, including getting weird looks and being judged. i get in trouble with the law, i party, i drink and i cuss and i look good doing it, and you can’t stand that i don’t give a single fuck about what people think of me. if i cared enough to keep up ‘appearances’ like you do, i wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now, let alone allowing you to take me to an entire different town all so that we could share a fucking meal together. why don’t you try understanding that, asshole.”

rafe tongued his cheek as he glared at you, genuinely at a loss for words. just as rafe opened his mouth to say something, another man’s voice cut in. “holy shit. s’that you, rafe?” fixing your attention on the man who approached your table, rafe couldn’t help but feel his heart drop to his stomach upon recognizing the familar face. “barry?” he got up, extending an arm, “shit, man, how long has it been?” you watched as they shook hands, both of them catching up as if you weren’t sitting right in front of their faces. it wasn’t until you locked eyes with the beefy brunette before he excused himself.

“sorry,” he cleared his throat, “how rude of me.. who’s this pretty little thing?” you smiled sheepishly as he reached for your hand, your cheeks heating once his lips met your knuckles. rafe couldn’t stand the sight. he felt like he could break his beer bottle over barry’s head right now. “this is—” you cut rafe off, completely ignoring the heat of his gaze burning into the side of your face, “y/n.” barry smiled, the gold glint of his tooth catching your attention. “my, that’s sure a fitting name for such a sweet—” rafe stepped between you two, a look of warning passing through his eyes.

“y/n, this is barry, we went to the same police training academy way back in the day.” barry stood upright, his hand coming up to stroke his goatee. “it’s nice to meet you, ‘pretty..” you didn’t miss the way barry’s eyes traveled down your cleavage, his tongue poking out as he ran the muscle along his bottom lip. “she’s my niece, actually, we’ll be heading back to town soon.” the way everything came to a screeching halt, you could’ve sworn you a car crashed inside your mind when those words left rafe’s mouth. barry visibly recoiled, his eyesbrows shooting up at the false revelation.

“oh, wow! that’s great, that’s great..” he trailed off, pursing his lips together awkwardly as the silence between him and rafe stretched beyond their comfort. you still couldn’t believe your ears, surely they were playing tricks on you, right?

..right?

you decided right then and there that two can play at that game. “you should’ve told me you had some hot friends, uncle, i would’ve hitched a ride back to town a long time ago!” you smiled, resting a hand on barry’s arm, “where are you headed off to, handsome?” rafe was sure his face matched the color of the deep red walls of the restaurant, his fists clenching at his sides as he watched you tenderly stroke another man’s flesh. without warning, rafe yanked you up from your seat, a surprised yelp sounding from your lips as he angrily guided you out of the diner.

“it was nice seeing you, man, i’ll catch you around.” rafe didn’t even so much as spare barry a single glance as he dumped you back on your feet outside, an irritated look written all over your face. “your niece?!” feeling your skin grow hot with rage, you shoved him away before he could get close to you again. crossing your arms over your chest, you ran across the street back to the motel, ignoring his calls as he chased after you. bursting through the door of your shared room, you locked it behind you before rafe could catch up. “let me in!” he banged on the thick wood, the force alone seemingly making the walls shake.

“just leave! leave and don’t come back!” you shouted, tears now streaming down your face. for the first time during this entire thing you’ve had going on with rafe, you felt complete and utter shame. unlike him, he’s been living with it knowing that being with you wasn’t socially acceptable. he knew he had a reputation to uphold but he found himself unable to think about anything or anyone else after he first saw you that night topper dragged you into the station. he knew it was wrong, but quickly you had him doing things and feeling things he had never felt or done before. all of it was fucked up.

“please let me in, i just wanna talk to you.. i need you to hear me out and let me explain.” you hiccuped, your chin wobbling as you shook your head at his desperate plea. “you should’ve never let things go this far if you didn’t want me. i don’t need you, rafe.” of course, that was a lie. you had already let yourself become too emotionally invested in this man for you to really mean that, and you hated yourself for it. “i don’t need to hear shit, i heard enough already.” rafe sighed, his eyes screwing shut as he let his fist fall from the door. knowing he was going to have to get in there one way or another, rafe made his way to the outdated receptionist desk where he asked for another room key.

sniffling, you laid yourself down on the bed, your cheeks damp as you dried your face. you just wanted to go home already and forget about everything that transpired, forget about him. speaking of.. you groaned when you heard the lock click open, rafe stepping through the door shortly after. “i’m not talking to you.” you scooted further up the bed as he got closer, his hands shooting up in defense. “you don’t have to, i just want you to listen to what i have to say— can i sit right here?” you eyed the corner of the bed furthest from you before looking away from him.

taking that as you bidding him your permission, he sat down, hating the amount of space between you two. “i’m sorry,” he started, “i’ve never been in a predicament like this, alright? i don’t know the first thing about being with someone, let alone with someone like you. we’re nothing alike, but i find myself drawn to you anyways. i get mad at you, and i tell you shit, because i care. i care about how you go through this world, and i care about how people treat you. i hate hearing the way people talk about you, ‘saying that you just tear through town causing all sorts of trouble when they don’t know anything about you.” rafe swallowed thickly.

“you don’t think i know that already? rafe, my mom skipped town because she decided that the country life wasn’t what she wanted. she left me and my dad for the city when we both needed her and he tried his best to keep me in line, and look where that got me. I’ve been making my own decisions and getting criticized for it for a long time already, i’ve heard just about everything in the book. hell, i find it strange when i don’t get ugly looks. it’s you who can’t stand that idea.” hearing you acknowledge what he’s been scared of all along tugged at his heartstrings.

“if i want to go around screwing with a sheriff then i’m going to do it without caring about anyone else’s feelings but my own. i can’t even say that i just ‘like’ you because i feel way more for you than that.” you knew what you were saying was basically a confession right now, but you didn’t care. rafe felt his chest threatening to cave in on itself as he watched the way your features softened. you loved him while he had been keeping you at arm’s length at that wasn’t fair. with tension still lingering in the air, rafe was debating on whether or not you’d give him a right hook if he tackled you into a hug right now.

“i know we’re fighting, but come here..” at this, you met his gaze. as much as you wanted to hold a grudge and make him feel what you felt when he introduced you as something you’re not, you needed to feel his arms around you more than anything else. jaw clenching, you stood up and made your way over to where he sat. with hesitant hands, rafe held onto your waist before embracing you and taking you into his lap.

“i’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “i’m gonna work on my own shit, i swear it to you.” you let yourself be fully embraced by him, the smell of his aftershave providing you with an odd sense of comfort. “mhhm..” you hummed, refraining from smiling as best as you could. “no i mean it,” he stared down at you, “but i need you to promise me that you’ll work on cleaning up your act. i can’t follow you around in my patrol car every second of the day.” technically rafe already did that, but you figured you could make some changes too if he was more than willing to do the same.

“fine, but just know this; if you ever call me your niece again, you’re gonna have to throw away the key next time i get sent to the station.”

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[acanthasdreams]

an eligible bachelor - charlie dalton  ₊˚⊹♡

Uploading bc it’s the first thing I’ve written that I actually finished. Thank you to the people that replied to me on the Dying Poets Society community board as well ! Also I dunno what the fanon idea of charlie is just yet (im new), I’m just going based off vibes, aura, and other (few) fanfics I’ve read.  Warning: May have used “smirked” like 1000 times. Pls be nice 2 me. xo, acantha

🐇 . *. ⋆·˚ ༘ *༄

Charlie Dalton was laying on his bed, smoking a cigarette while his stuck up roommate Richard Cameron wasn’t there. Cameron would occasionally participate, but when he was knee deep into playing the tradition, honor, discipline, excellence student bullcrap, Charlie knew wouldn’t hear the end of it for smoking in their shared dorm. 

He had decided to skip the usual Friday evening study with the boys. 

He’d studied enough, he thought. Meeks had already helped him memorize all the necessary Latin phrases anyways. They now seemed to be constantly repeating a loop in his head

Amo, Amas, Amat…Agricola, Agricoli…

All Charlie wanted to say was blah, blah, blah.

So he took the rest of his day to rest, smoke a cig, read a dirty mag….something to chill him out. And of course, he was waiting for you. 

His childhood friend, you were the only person he could actually rely on outside of school. As children of two good business partners, you’d both found friendship amongst the fancy business dinners his parents and yours would host. It was safe to say you’d known each other long enough for him to call you up whenever he had the urge to, which was as often as he could.

You lived nearby and attended Henley Hall so of course he’d find any reason to bother you, asking you to sneak into his school, calling you up, or hanging out on weekends. Now three weeks into the new school semester, he needed to see you in person to have someone on the outside of Hell-ton to talk to. You were busier this year, and he hadn’t seen you much since the summer in which you’d spent the majority of your time together. He was getting withdrawals.

But of course, you almost always put up with his antics. His ways of finding rebellion in conformity was the small taste of rebellion you needed in your otherwise mundane life.

So here you were, skipping through the Welton corridors trying your best not to get caught by a Professor- or worse Mr. Nolan himself. Your casual clothing, that was definitely not up to the Welton dress code for males, was covered with Charlie’s Welton coat. It wasn’t cold enough yet to wear, but it’d have to do with helping you blend in when there were still boys roaming the school, settling in to start the weekend after a long week of rigorous classes.

Finally walking past the recognizable row of doors that made up the dormitories, you take a chance to more swiftly enter a familiar door. You let out a sigh of relief over making it safely, you lean back against it looking at the boy in question, who simply smirked up at you.

“Look what the cat dragged in” He greets, a cigarette hanging from his lips like an old pirate would with a pipe.

You blow a raspberry, taking off and tossing his coat at the end of his bed. All the walking mixed with the adrenaline of sneaking into his school made you warm.

“The cat being you, Charlie Dalton…Though I’d say you remind me more of a puppy dog.” You greet back, getting comfortable in the room you’d been in many times. Tapping his leg with your fingers, he moves his legs for you to sit before laying them casually over your lap.

“A puppy dog?? Ouch…you wound me, darling.” He says, pretending to be hurt as he holds his hand to his heart. But his lips were curled in amusement, inciting a small laugh from you. You pat his leg again, seeming to be quite settled in.

“Okay, okay…so what was the emergency you were calling me about, huh? Cameron irking you again or what?” 

“He usually is. Latin class is too. But,” He lets out a sigh as he puts out the cigarette on the metal headboard of his bed,“Can’t a guy just wanna see a pretty gal?” 

He leans over to ruffle your hair and you respond with a soft giggle, smoothing your hair back down.

“You see me far too often, Charlie…” You almost blush a little at him calling you a pretty gal, almost. “You know, my mother is actually starting to worry about your influence on me.”

It seemed you’d unintentionally spent the majority of the summer hanging out with Charlie, sometimes just a little bit past curfew. It was something your mother was not exactly keen about since it was often just you and him alone. Not proper for a young lady, she’d said.

Now it’s Charlie’s time to blow a raspberry, it seemed to be something he picked up from you and your reactions to him.

“I am a perfectly good influence on you, missy. Maybe your mother should worry about your influence on me.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at you, a dramatically serious expression on his face. 

You both knew you had little influence on the free thinking, go-with-the-flow soul Charlie naturally was.

“Sure she should worry…who knows what I could put you on next. Today it’s cigarettes and pipes, tomorrow marijuana.” You act guilty, shaking your head slowly while holding back an amused smile.

“Do you actually know where to get marij-” 

“Charlie!” You playfully smack his arm and he laughs, raising his hands in defense. 

“Kidding, kidding…” Knowing him, you weren’t entirely sure how true that was.

“On a good note,” He starts, his cocky smirk coming back to his face. He seemed to even puff out his chest a little as he shares, “I know your father really likes me. He says nicer things to me than even my own father does to my face.”

I find yourself snickering as he seems to be extremely proud of his reputation with your dad. You had to admit, he was right. Much to your mother’s dismay, your father was constantly bringing him up at dinnertime, “how’s the Dalton boy”, “I heard this from his father”, “such a bright boy that Dalton”. You already heard from Charlie himself a lot, your years of friendship had him invading your life even when he wasn’t there. Your father loved him, and Charlie used it to the best of his advantage. It was really the only reason your father didn’t scold you for your summer shenanigans.

“I’ve heard, Charlie. Trust me” You chuckle to yourself just thinking about it, but you both knew exactly why. “I’m sure he thinks that the more he hypes you up to me, the more likely I’ll be to swoon for you.”  

Charlie lets out a chuckle with that, but anything relating to swooning had him back to his cocky act quite rapidly.

“Like I need him to hype me up, I know you swoon for me everyday darling. Who can resist all of this.” He puts his hands behind his head as he leans against his headboard, lifting a brow and smirking. 

The smirk was an ever present characteristic of him, since the moment he’d turned 15, he seemed to have mastered it. It amused you, probably his most charming characteristic.

“Oh, I’m swooning right now.” You roll your eyes before pretending to swoon, lifting a hand to fan yourself from his swoon-yness. That gets him laughing, the way you’d play along with him. He realized a long time ago that you didn’t realize how charming you were, but it was fine with him, only because that meant he got to appreciate how natural you were at it in secret. 

His laugh fades out, instead staring right at you. His smirk appears on his face yet again, an air smugness in it. 

“I guess your father’s plan worked after all then.”

The plan, both your father’s plans actually. They’d been scheming since they realized how close you’d gotten, which for fathers was actually not too long ago. Probably a year now.

“Ah, yes…turning you into an eligible bachelor in my eyes.” You snort amusedly, your eyes diverting from his own before the butterflies begin fluttering in your tummy.

It had become no secret to you and Charlie that your dad’s had been planning for a “union of families”, when you’d eavesdropped on them talking after a dinner party. They were good business partners, and longtime friends. With their children already being so akin to each other, it seemed the light bulb had gone on in their heads. 

But you knew Charlie. 

While he went along with what his father wanted, he only did it because he had to. Wellton, an ivy league future, business school. You knew that deep down, he wished to do something he wanted to do. Figure himself out, be a teen. Seize the day, as his new teacher had told him on the first day of his class. 

While you played around with the idea of being future Mrs. Dalton in your head, a thought formed from a crush that had been deeply stuffed away in your heart since you’d found out about your fathers plans. The inkling of anxiety over that plan told you that he secretly hated the idea of being pushed onto you. Maybe not because of yourself, but because it was yet another thing written into his future by his dad.

The last thing you wanted was to continue denying him a chance to write his future for himself, even if it meant pretending you weren’t on board with the expectation you’d both wed each other. Allowing it to continue being something you joked around about.

“Well, babe, I already am an eligible bachelor.” Giving his signature smirk, he puffs out his chest again and runs his hands through his hair dramatically, looking suave. 

This makes you laugh softly, but quickly your smile falters as you keep thinking about it. Charlie, being more perceptive than one would expect, notices this and nudges you softly on the shoulder.

“What? Am I that terrible of a possible husband?” He says jokingly, trying to keep up the playful atmosphere.

You chuckle lightly in response, trying not to ruin the mood. “No. You’re not…you’re a good friend, Charlie.” 

The atmosphere still seemed to change at your genuine compliment, Charlie’s own heart seemed to bloom, and he didn’t know what to do with that. He had never known what to do with it, pushing down his own feelings with the same idea that you didn’t want to be with him. 

Funny, since he was the one to flirt with you first, constantly trying to get your attention. He loved having your eyes on him, and only him.

He mustered a playfully toned comment.

“You make me blush.” He says, giving a much more authentic smile to you with a hand to his heart. Truly, it had skipped a beat. Knowing you saw him as a good friend was good, even if he wished it was more.

Silence seemed to fall between you, a comfortable one it seems as you lean your head back on the wall. Both of you seem to ponder it, the thing. But none of you knew what to say.

Finally, you’re the one that speaks up, “How would you feel if our dads plan worked?”

Another beat of silence.

“I know you don’t like doing what your father wants you to do, what he plans for you.”

Your eyes dart Charlie’s face, searching for an answer. He was looking at you pretty intensely, seeming to ponder the idea more deeply.

This is the first time you’ve seen Charlie seem so serious, and he was with reason. He knew what you meant to say, and it’s something he had thought about since the summer you two had shared ended.

Would he mind if you had fallen for each other, outside of your fathers pressure? 

Charlie grabbed the pack of cigarettes laying beside him and opened it, and placed one in his mouth. Though he didn’t light it up, it was more of a comfort thing. He was never one to be so serious, and this was both your feelings you were talking about. The last thing he wanted to do was say the wrong thing. 

And honestly, he adored you. More than he could ever say. Why else would he want your presence so constantly?

He hummed for a moment before speaking.

“I don’t like doing what my dad wants…” He admitted, his voice seeming quieter than usual as he takes the unlit cigarette out of his mouth. “But honestly…this is the first time I feel like I wouldn’t mind. Honestly, it’d be more of a personal decision”

His smirk returns, this was his way of seizing the day. He didn’t want to waste time going around the topic any longer when he knew deep down that you were the only girl he’d ever thought about, as flirty as he was generally. His gaze returned to you, And he was happy he did, because his answer had made your cheeks turn pink. You seemed almost flabbergasted by his answer. 

He’d willingly be with you.

“You wouldn’t mind?” You seem almost confused, but he seemed all too casual about it now that he’d seen how adorable you looked at his honest answer. 

He was choosing honesty today.

“I wouldn’t…I’m eligible, your father likes me, you’re a pretty girl.” He lists off, seeming sure of himself. He adjusts himself, removing his legs from your lap to scooch closer to you. His hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and your heart seems to flutter out of your chest. His heart did as well, but he was much too suave to let it show. 

“Seems like a winning hand to me.” 

It seemed…like his actions left you speechless. You were able to speak eventually, cracking a small smile.

“Seems like the winning hand was our father’s, in the end.” You say in a jokingly sardonic way, chuckling softly. 

“And the losing hand of your mothers.” He snorts right back. “Point is, I win in some way or another.”

He couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t when it seemed like the perfect moment. 

Damn it Charlie, just do it, he thought before leaning in to steal a soft kiss from you. He’d always wondered if the gloss you wore was flavored. It smelled of cherries, and as he learned- it tasted like it, too.  The kiss was surprisingly tender, his hand still on your cheek. You eventually collect yourself enough to kiss back, your heart soaring. It was too early for a full blown make-out session though, so you both pulled away after a few moments. 

Dalton felt way too smug with himself about it, very proud of his ability to be assertive for once, after almost two years of crushing on you. You, on the other hand, could only give him a shy smile and looked away.

“I did not know this was how this evening would go…” You admit meekly, unable to meet his eyes after the kiss you shared. 

“That we’d seal the deal of you becoming Mrs. Dalton? Honestly, me neither, but…” He shrugged, his hand going to your chin to force you to look at him, “Carpe diem.” 

He leaned in again, but this time almost full blown tackled you into yet another kiss. Albeit, it was much more passionate than the first time. You couldn’t help but get lost in it, wrapping your arms over his shoulders, letting his hands into your hair to hold you in place. 

You’d have to find a way to thank Mr. Keating for this moment of carpe diem sometime, but you didn’t have a chance to process the pondering on that at the moment.

It was the most magnificent moment.

“Dalton- everyone is asking why you- oh!”

Pulling away with eyes wide and cheeks red, you look to the doorway to see someone who was equally as red-faced as his hair.

“Damn it, Cameron!” Charlie tossed his pillow at him, standing up to push his back out of the door, “We’re having a moment in here, please!”

He closes the door behind him, looking back at you, you were still in complete shock over being caught. 

“I think that’s my queue to head home, Charlie.” You say sheepishly, chuckling in embarrassment as you get up and begin putting his coat back on. The sun could be seen as it was beginning to set outside the small dorm window anyways. 

Charlie’s little heart almost stopped beating, he wished to spend more time with you after this new development of your relationship. And his want was a lot, with how clingy he already was. But you were right, Cameron had ruined the mood enough. He mentally cursed Cameron even more.

“Fine.” He let out an exasperated sigh, but then quickly put on a satisfied smirk on his face, grabbing you by your sides, “But we’ll finish this another time, future wife.” 

That made you laugh, leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek. You’d done it once or twice before, and after the kisses of today, they still felt extra special. 

“I’ll see you later, Charlie.” Putting the hood of the coat on, you slipped out of his room ready to sneak your way back out of Wellton...the things you did for this boy. 

Charlie was sure you’d taken his heart with you… and for once, he was happy his dad had already pre-approved of you as part of his future. He’ll take business school if it means he’ll get to take care of you comfortably.

🐇 . *. ⋆·˚ ༘ *༄ 

“I went in- and they were all over eachother- and…!”

Charlie Dalton was determined to strangle his roommate as he walked into the dormitory lounge. 

“Cameron.” He said through grit teeth as he walked up to the group. Apparently, Cameron was already spilling about what he’d seen in their dorm to the rest of their friends. Way to keep his business private.

Everyone was already teasing him about it, making smoochy noises, and holding him back from an expulsion waiting to happen. 

“Oh shut up Knox, like you don’t want to make-out with that Chris girl.” The boys all laughed at this, Knox seemed to shut up real quick though (it was true).

“So, what did happen with her Charlie?” Asked Neil, who patted him on the shoulder in a proud manner. He of all people had seen the development of this crush over the years.

“Heh…” Charlie couldn’t help the smugness to come back, the feeling of her lips still lingered on his and it made him feel like a real man.

“What can I say boys…I siezed the day.”

The boys gave him sounds of cheer and pats on the back, impressed by him taking Mr. Keating’s message so deeply into his heart. 

“Are we still studying trig-?”

“-You don’t get it, do you Cameron?” Charlie rolled his eyes.

“...What?”

[bonniesbluee]

Drew Starkey x bimbo!reader - friends with benefits situation

drew was just finishing an interview after the success of OBX season 4. obviously, he and his friends had to celebrate. and what better way than to celebrate with some boobs on their faces. they were going for the plenty options of women, but him? he was going for someone special.

his pretty little stripper. he has been seeing you each time he has time to spare. he met you in an occasion just like this, a celebration! and since then? he hasnt slept with anyone else. you have him hooked, from your flirty banter, to how you match his freak, to the way you turn into a softie after sex.

both of you have an unspoken friends with benefits dynamic, and you seem to be okay with that! specially since he's so busy, he wont have time for an actual relationship. but he would be lying if he said he didnt want you out of that job. he wanted to be with you at all times. show you off, take you to galas and red carpets, introduce you as his girl, as his. he would do anything to give you a better life, and he will. eventually.

when he and his friends walk in the club he starts looking for you, telling his friends he needs to go to the restroom. he spots you in a pole, dancing so sexually yet so elegantly. he loves seeing you doing what you do best. he chuckles to himself, walking back to his friends. "yo, where the girls at man?" one of them ask. he simply rolls his eyes and sits down, "be patient, they're coming." he knows they are.

a few minutes pass and he sees you walking down the stage, he doesn't bother excusing himself before he's already behind you. he embraces you from behind, obviously making you flinch before feeling his big hands on you and realizing who it was. you turn, giggling. "oh my goddd!" you squeal, hugging him tightly. "i missed you so much baby." he sighs against your hair, his hands hooking underneath your knees to hoist you up.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing soft kisses against his cheek, leaving red marks against his skin. "mm me too, why didnt you tell me you were coming?" you pout, glossy lips glistening against the clubs lights. "i had to surprise you." you laugh before kissing him softly. "you came here alone?" you ask while he puts you down, his hands going up to cup your cheeks. "nah, came here with my boys." he nods behind him, and you hum in response.

"actually, now that you mention it." he smirks, kissing your forehead before pulling you with him. "mind getting one of your best girls for them? for this special occasion." he leans down to whisper in your ear. "maybe then we could get some alone time." you smile at his words, nodding. "alright then." he gives the meat of your ass a squeeze before you rush away into the dressing room. he sits back down, and before any of his friends get the chance of questioning him, he talks. "dont worry, the girls are coming."

you come back minutes later with 3 more girls. they're all in their best revealing attire, from glittery thongs to see through bras. he doesn't see that tho, he sees you. he watches as you and the girls approach the table. "hello boys," you say as you stand infront of the table. hands on your hips. "these will be girls that will be, hopefully, making your night." you wink, giggling softly. you give the girls a nod and they pick a boy of their choosing before they walk away to private rooms. you do the same, grabbing drew's bicep and pulling him to a room.

the moment the door is shut he kisses you desperately, his hands going to your cheek, his other one going down to your ass. "its been so long," he mumbles against your lips. "too long." before you know it your face is deep into the cushion of the couch, practically screaming his name. "i-i-im gonna-" he slaps your ass before burying his face into your neck. "im gonna fill this pretty hole up.." he groans, grabbing your neck and turning your head. "look at me while you come, i want to see you.."

afterwards, you lie on his chest, eyes closed, body sweaty and spent. his hands card through your hair to make sure it doesn't bother your face. "i cleared up my schedule for a week, you could...spend the week at my place?" he whispers. taking note of all the bite marks he left on your hips. "is it even a question?" you giggle, and he smiles. "i guess not." he hugs you softly, hands cradling you against his chest as if he wasnt balls deep inside of you less than 5 minutes ago.

[pebble-ink]

a silent voice manga panel

[askgardenerwoods]

hi Emma! Who do you consider your friends do you have a crush on anybody?

" For crushes... "

[deathandnonexistentialdread]

canonical queer character spotted??

[rosicheeks]

Aftercare is necessary

Everyone say it with me -

Aftercare is necessary

I can’t hear you -

AFTERCARE IS NECESSARY

[higgs-bosom-69]

who up hollowing they knight

(version without lyrics under the cut)