#like good for lindsay for getting that bag but

[neos-schlond-poofa]

this was specifically targeted to me

[vagueeyes]

INSIDE NO. 9 | S6E2 "Simon Says" Costumes by Yves Barre

[endless-ineffabilities]

It's not like I'm falling in love, I just want ya to do me no good (and you look like you could) (18+)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

Ewan Mitchell isn't one for parties, but for you? He'd make an exception. Surrounded by stars at the GQ party, his revered muse on the big screen becomes a twisted angel in his arms—leaving him seeing stars again as he finds bliss within your warmth.

word count: 6.7k

main masterlist ▪︎ teaser

Ewan thought he could keep up the celebrity facade, just for the night at least, but the ceaseless barrage of mingling is starting to get to him.

The boo hurled at him right outside the establishment still echoes in his ears. Maybe it wasn't even about him, but his annoyance had been triggered. He decides that it all has gotten to him. What a load of bull.

He had been on the fence about being tapped as an honouree of a lifestyle magazine. Like it means anything. What does this have to do with being an actor? How is this supposed to help his craft? He might as well have been tapped to do one of those videos where he shows everyone what's in his bag.

"It's exposure," his team had chirped in unison, practically reading from a PR handbook.

This wasn't the industry he'd envisioned when he first fell in love with the craft. But none of this is about craft. It's all publicity fodder, all noise.

What he really wants—what his entire being craves—is a BAFTA, a Golden Globe, a SAG award. Hell, he would trade every glitzy dinner party invite for the faintest whiff of Oscar buzz. That was the dream.

Instead, here he is, tethered to a seat at one of four long tables, littered with stars of every calibre—from industry titans to the disposable nobodies who would be forgotten by this time next month.

He had been encouraged to make connections. Socialize. He translated this as a polite way of being told to suck up to people. Maybe a casting director would remember him. Maybe some producer would pass his name along. Easy.

Flattery will get you everywhere in this business.

But at any given time, he would much rather suck on a bloody spliff.

Leaning over to Davey, he says, "I might sneak out for a smoke or something. That's fine, right?"

Davey snickers, sensing Ewan's agitation. "Oh, if you're asking me, I say do whatever you want, mate."

But then someone from his team, straight-laced, precious Lindsay, lets him know otherwise. "Ewan, I'd advise you to sit still for now. What if they call you up some time during dinner?"

Ewan doubles down, his leg anxiously shaking under the table. "Are they going to call on me?"

Lindsay balks. She hasn't heard Ewan sound this pressed before. "Well, we weren't told but—"

"Then I can go. They wouldn't care."

"Ewan, just—"

"Sorry, Lind, but I gotta take a breather. This is all just—"

Lindsay waves him off, resigned. Ewan has always been an easy client to manage, so she can't bring herself to begrudge him this. "Fine, whatever. Just make sure to hide the cigarette if the photographer shows up."

"Sure," he mutters, not meaning it in the slightest. Nobody would care if he is spotted smoking. They should be grateful he is not among the deviants doing lines in the bathroom.

He abruptly gets up from his seat, and backs right into... you.

Of all people. Ewan feels the blood drain from his face, his breath hitching as disbelief engulfs him. His hand instinctively rises, brushing against the silken warmth of flawless skin exposed by your backless dress. The contact sends a jolt through him, and for a moment, he's certain he might pass out. You—right here, in the flesh.

You flash him a dazzling, effortless smile and murmur, "Oops, excuse me," your voice a melodic tease that leaves him utterly undone.

"Oh, no... no problem." He stammers, fully aware that he should be the one begging pardon.

You hold his gaze, ensnaring him so effortlessly. He realises how stupid he must look, with his mouth parted and his eyes wide. He should say his name. He should introduce himself, goddamnit.

But the moment shatters when someone calls your name. You step away without hesitation, and Ewan feels the loss acutely, like an unhooked fish left gasping on dry land.

Then it comes. That fucking sound.

The high-pitched squeal you let out is sharp, almost grating, but somehow it still strikes him as endearing. He'd probably hate it if it didn't come from you.

"Hi! Oh my god, how are you? I haven't seen you since our ski trip in Courmayeur!" Your voice carries, your excitement encroaching his space like an air of warmth.

Ewan follows your trajectory, his eyes trailing as you glide over to Eve Hewson. The two of you embrace like old friends, giggling like co-conspirators, your champagne glasses clinking softly.

He nearly rolls his eyes but catches himself. He knows he's being ridiculous, standing there like a sulking idiot, but the irritation bites anyway. He wants to blame the squeal, or the scene you're making, or the way you seem so goddamn comfortable in this world of chatter and pomp.

But that's not quite it.

He knows the truth, and it gnaws at him like a persistent itch he can't scratch. He's annoyed because he wanted you—your dazzling smile, your undivided attention—to be aimed at him.

He forces his feet to move, making his way down the side hall, where the din of the party fades into muffled chaos. He needs a breather, a moment to reset, but even here, your presence clings to him like static.

It's maddening.

Ewan has spent years watching you. On screens, in interviews, on magazine covers. You're like an open book he's memorised, every detail imprinted on his mind.

That birthmark beneath your right shoulder blade, briefly exposed in that love scene with Glen Powell. He remembers it, even though the camera barely lingered. The way your laugh bursts out unguarded, lighting up every corner of a room.

In one interview, you mentioned Meisner as your go-to technique, and it stuck with him. Of course you'd say Meisner, he thought at the time, like you were someone close to him, because you're all about connection, about living truthfully in the moment.

And here you are, in the same place as him, vibrant and ever so magnetic. Princess of every party, muse of the silver screen.

But you don't know him.

You didn't think you would be attending the British GQ party, but one of your Londoner friends happened to be throwing their birthday bash the night before, so you thought—why the hell not?

You were, of course, invited. Originally, the invite had been for the American GQ Men of the Year party the week prior, but filming schedules had other ideas. For the past two months, you'd been stranded in the icy landscapes of Winnipeg, immersed in the demanding shoot of David Lowery's latest thriller.

Grueling days and endless takes had left you with little energy for glamour. But now, with a few weeks off and the American crew taking a well-earned Thanksgiving break, you finally have some breathing room.

The London event seems like a perfect way to ease back into the whirlwind. And it doesn't disappoint.

The Roof Gardens is buzzing, the atmosphere heavy with the scent of expensive perfume and free-flowing champagne. You glide through it like you belong—because you do. Years of this kind of schmoozing have taught you how to navigate these waters. A charming smile here, a fleeting hug there, a bit of banter with a photographer who asks for the best angle.

You find yourself talking to your old castmate Eve Hewson near the bar, the two of you imbibing something bubbly and dry. She looks luminous as always, her dark hair framing her sharp, mischievous grin.

"Winnipeg, though?" Eve says, her tone incredulous as she leans in. "What the hell is Lowery making you do out there? Freeze to death for art?"

"Pretty much," you laugh, savouring the chill of your drink. "But it's worth it, trust me. The script is absolutely incredible. I just wish the weather wasn't trying to kill me."

"Classic Lowery. He probably thinks the suffering adds authenticity or some shit."

"Probably," you agree, rolling your eyes. For some reason, you find yourself circling back to an earlier incident.

"By the way," you say, leaning a little closer to Eve, "do you know who that guy was? The one I bumped into earlier?"

"Which guy?"

"Clip-on earring. Tall, kind of broody-looking in an overcoat? Wasn't talking much, just sort of... cruising awkwardly."

Eve shrugs, clearly drawing a blank. "I have no idea. Was he hot?"

It only takes you a second to consider this. "I mean, sure. In a tortured artist kind of way. Poor schmuck looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here."

"Oh!" Eve says, snapping her fingers. "Wait, he might be one of the honourees."

You arch a brow. "Not a goddamn influencer, right?"

Eve shakes her head. "No, don't worry. I think he's in that Game of Thrones spinoff. What's it called? House of Dragons?"

"Never saw it." You didn't have the time, truth be told. Also, the last seasons of its predecessor had been enough to edge it off your watchlist.

She taps her chin, thinking. "Wait... oh! Wasn't he that nerd in the movie with Jacob and Barry? Saltburn!"

"Oh my god. That's him? He did great in that role."

"Right? I could not have pointed him out. Kind of a chameleon, I guess."

"Guess so," you agree, the curiosity lingering.

The night unfolds exactly as expected. You exchange quips with Harris Dickinson, who flirts with you just enough to keep things interesting. You catch up with Nicole Kidman, who had been somewhat of a mentor to you when you acted alongside her in your third film at just 16. Jude Law joins your circle at one point, his charm as effortless as ever, and for a while, it feels like just another night on the circuit.

By the time you step outside into the crisp evening air, you're craving a bit of quiet. The gardens around the pavilion are softly lit, the gentle glow of fairy light casting long shadows over the manicured hedges. You pull your vape from your Loewe clutch, taking a long drag as you lean against a cold marble railing.

That's when you notice him again.

He's standing a few feet away, partially obscured by a stone pillar, a cigarette burning between his fingers. The faint smell of tobacco taints the pristine air, and you catch the same restless energy he had earlier.

You wander closer, the soft click of your heels against the stone catching his attention. He glances up, startled, as if he hadn't expected anyone else to venture out here.

"Hey," you say casually, holding your vape up as you stop beside him. "Can you hold this for a sec?"

Before he can respond, you hand him your purse, crouching slightly to tighten the strap on your heel.

He freezes, staring at the outstretched object. "Uh... sure," he relents, albeit hesitantly.

You straighten after a minute, taking the purse back with a quick "Thanks," and give him a once-over. Up close, he's sharper, more distinct. There's something remarkably intense about him that wasn't obvious before.

"I'm Ewan... Mitchell," he blurts, his words a little rushed.

You smile, tilting your head. "Nice to meet you, Ewan."

He fumbles for a response, his cigarette dangling precariously from his fingers. "I, uh, think we bumped into each other earlier. Inside."

"Yeah," you say lightly, your lips curving into a faint smirk. "I like your outfit, by the way. Very vampiric. Dior, right?"

He blinks, then chuckles softly, almost self-deprecatingly. "Yeah. Thanks. I like you too... I mean, I like... I like your dress, too."

You laugh at the accidental remark. There's something undeniably charming about him, despite his nervousness. "Why, thank you, Ewan."

The blush that creeps on his cheeks shows through the powder. He must have felt it, because he immediately trained his gaze down to his polished shoes.

Cute. So you make it your mission to break through his shell. These events tend to get repetitive after a while, but maybe tonight will be a lovely exception.

And so the game begins.

The two of you peacefully take hits of your respective choices of poison, your bubblegum-flavoured vapour melding in the air with his Marlboro red.

"You're quiet," you point out the obvious eventually, a teasing grin playing at your lips.

He almost laughs at the understatement but only shrugs. "Not much to say, I suppose."

"Oh, I doubt that." You lean against the balustrade, studying him. Ewan feels his pulse quicken under the weight of it.

You're so at ease. It's infuriatingly attractive. Your disarming allure, your grace in this world of make-believe, only deepens his self-consciousness. He knows what he must look like: an odd man out, fumbling at the edges of fame while you shine at the centre of it all.

He exhales shakily and finally replies, "Don't let me bore you."

"You're not boring me," you reassure him, before playfully adding, "Not yet at least."

There's a flicker of something unclear behind your eyes when you move closer and ask, "So what are you thinking?"

What he's thinking is that he's out of his depth, that he hasn't felt this kind of raw attraction in years—if ever. He's thinking you're the kind of woman who doesn't even have to command attention, and he's already hopelessly drawn in. But what he says is, "Just... wondering how I got here."

Your laugh is soft, rich with amusement. "To this party?"

"Or this moment."

His words surprise him, his ears burning as they register. You don't say anything, causing Ewan's nerves to spike. Did he sound too eager? Too pathetic?

But then, you smile. That damned megawatt smile that looks even better in person than on screen. "Well, it's a good place to be, isn't it?"

You lean a fraction closer, and could swear his heart is about to burst out of his chest.

"Do you always look so serious?" you ask, your gaze flicking to his lips, admiring the way they seem to be in a state of being perpetually curled. "Or is it just the brooding artist thing?"

"I'll take it if it works," he manages, his voice uneven.

"Oh, it's working," you say softly.

Ewan shifts his weight, tapping the cigarette against the edge of the balustrade. "Sorry, I just... I don't get it. These things. Everyone pretending they know everyone, like it's all some bloody performance."

You exhale a stream of vapour, watching it swirl into the night. He's finally opening up, and there is no way you're letting this slide. "It is a performance," you reply. "That's the point."

He shakes his head, gazing at you with a genuine softness you haven't been at the receiving end of in far too long. "But why? Why not just let the work speak for itself?"

There's something innocent in the way he says it, and it's endearing and definitely rare among your crowd. Ewan Mitchell isn't like the men you usually find at these industry events. He's no preening peacock, no walking cologne ad praying to be noticed.

There's something boyish in the way he fidgets, and yet also something undeniably grown in the way his eyes linger on you when he thinks you're not looking.

You reply, "It's so people know who you are. Why would anyone want to go see your movie if they don't give a shit about you?"

"You see, darling, that's where talent comes into play."

"Hmm, okay. But do you not know how many thousands upon thousands of aspiring actors come to LA every year just to witness the death of their dreams, because nobody gave a shit about who they are? And I'm certain that a lot of them can outact us under the table."

Ewan takes a slow drag from his cigarette, buying himself time. The way you said "us" sends a thrill through him he's desperately trying to smother. "Well," he begins, "if you're talented enough, you'll eventually catch a break. People notice, don't they?"

"Talent isn't everything," you point out. "You need to have drive."

"That I have," he counters quickly, his voice laced with quiet conviction. He wouldn't have been able to climb out of a life of near-guaranteed anonymity in Derbyshire if he didn't possess drive. There's a confidence in him now, a spark you seem to notice, judging by the faint curve of your lips.

"And charisma," you add, your smile widening, "which, clearly, you also have."

"Thank you," he says on instinct. There's a pause, just long enough for him to wonder if he's again blushing under your watchful gaze.

"And," you continue, dragging the word out with deliberate weight, "in this day and age, you need to get people talking."

Ewan exhales, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "How do I do that, superstar?"

"A big, fat scandal usually does the trick." Your voice is casual, but your eyes gleam with mischief.

"Oh, brilliant," he deadpans. His sarcasm earns him another laugh, and he feels it in his chest like a warm shockwave.

"Or... you could date someone famous. Get on the PR train."

Ewan shakes his head, his brow furrowing. "Not for me, I think."

You drift closer, eyes narrowing slightly as if you're sizing him up. "Oh really? You wouldn't get with me if you had the chance?"

The question lands like a lit match in the conversation. He swallows nervously, "Of... of course I would. But I don't want it to be manufactured."

"How would it go then?" There's no mocking in your question, no cruelty in your smile—just curiosity, maybe a touch of challenge.

He falters, betraying the battle waging between his nerves and his growing comfort in your company. "How would what go?"

"How would you, Ewan Mitchell, get me?"

His throat goes dry. He considers dodging it, turning the conversation back to you with one of the rehearsed quips he uses for interviews. But that feels cheap in the face of your boldness, so unabashed and expectant. "Well, I'd ask you on a date."

"And I'd say yes... go on."

"And we'll go to... the cinema," he says simply, and for the first time tonight, he doesn't feel like treading water.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, you're such a purist."

"What's wrong with that?" he asks, a touch defensive but also playful, emboldened by your attention.

"Nothing, you tortured artist, you," you tease, your tone lilting. "And then what?"

"Then... we could grab dinner or—"

"Would you kiss me?" you interrupt, your voice low and threaded with something heavier. Most would hesitate, worrying they'd gone too far, but you're not like most people. You never have been.

"If you... if you wanted me to," he replies, his own voice rough with honesty.

"But would you want to?"

His gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest of moments before snapping back to your eyes. The words spill out of him. "I'd be a fucking idiot not to want to kiss you, darling."

Back in the pavilion, music from the DJ booth intensifies, signalling the post-dinner stage of the festivities. But the booming bass that reverberates is nothing compared to the beating of your hearts.

"On this hypothetical date... do we take it a step further?"

Ewan's thoughts run wild, and they are betrayed by the way his pupils dilate. "What do you mean?"

"I am talking about hooking up." Your words are relaxed, but the way you say them is anything but. They drip with intention, with heat, as if you're privy to the fact that he has pictured that scenario a hundred times over.

"What do you take me for?"

"A warm-blooded man who's clearly attracted to me... and who I'm also attracted to."

"You like me?" he whispers hoarsely.

Instead of answering, you close the distance, your lips brushing featherlight against his. The tentative touch sets him ablaze. When you press harder, surer, he melts into you. His hands tremble as they come up to your waist, anchoring himself in the reality of you.

"Fuck me," he breathes when you pull back, leaving him dazed. "I can't—"

"Do this?" you ask, your lips hovering over his, pulling at the fringes of his restraint.

"No... I mean, I can't believe I'm kissing you." He stumbles over his words, clearly in awe. "I love you."

It's your turn to be taken aback. "Woah, what?"

"I mean, I've loved your work," he stammers. "You inspire me as an actor, you know. I've watched you since your early days. You're fucking amazing."

"Mmm." When he allows his hand to drift along your spine, you ask, "Have you ever... fantasized about... sleeping with me?"

"I... I don't—"

"I'm used to it. Being looked at. Thought of, in that way." There's a tinge of raw sensitivity in your admission, letting him see the real you.

Ewan wants more of it. After just a taste of who you are underneath the surface, he is left craving the rest. "Then I think you know my answer," he says.

You let out a low hum. "I know."

"You're such a goddamn liability," he murmurs, managing to sound equal parts affectionate and exasperated.

"I know that too. Come with me," you say, your tone suddenly commanding. You grab his hand, lacing your fingers through his, and tug him towards the pavilion. He follows without a shred of hesitation, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of his chest.

The two of you weave through the edges of the party, slipping past clusters of inebriated guests until you find yourself in the dimly lit, unattended coatroom. The small space is as luxurious as the rest of the venue, the perfect backdrop for the tension threatening to explode.

The moment the lock on the door clicks shut, Ewan's restraint snaps like a taut wire. His hands cradle your face as he initiates the kiss this time, his hunger for you bleeding through every press of his lips.

The rest of the party fades away, and there is only you. He didn't care about any of it anyway.

"You are so fucking hot," he groans into the kiss. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Believe it, handsome," you purr, sliding your hands down the material of his coat.

"Are you sure about this?" His question comes out as a whisper, his forehead resting against yours, his cigarette-scented breath fanning your face.

"Ewan," you say, "get on with it before they all notice we've been gone too long."

He huffs out a nervous laugh. "The way you talk makes me think you wouldn't give a shit."

"No, I wouldn't," you confirm, your grin wicked. "They should fucking wait for us."

"You have an attitude, princess," he mutters, his fingers digging into your exposed back.

"Been told I have a big head," you joke.

He hums, before dropping a line that floors you. "Bet you have a sweet pussy, too."

Your eyes flash with amusement, drawing closer until your lips graze his Dior earring. "Wanna find out?"

"Fuckin' hell," his breath shudders out of him, "yes... yes... yes." He knew it might make him come across as desperate, as a damn simp, but he could not bring himself to give a single flying fuck. Not when you perch atop the gleaming marble edge of the table, and spread each leg out to the side, tantalisingly slow. A precious flower to be plucked, right there for the taking.

For him. He feels unworthy. He has half a mind to check the room for cameras—maybe this is all a prank. But what a lascivious, cruel prank that would be.

Is this some twisted initiation ritual into the Hollywood elite?

You trail a smooth, manicured finger along his jawline, igniting a shiver that ripples down his spine. His nerves come alive under your touch, each one crackling with electric anticipation, flipping a switch deep within him directly connected to his cock.

As he has revered you as a goddess on the silver screen all these years, he now reveres you in reality, sinking to his knees.

"Don't keep me waiting," you whisper silkily.

Ewan takes a steadying breath, before diving in. His hands lift the smooth material of your dress, revealing the sacred area between your legs, barely covered in a white sliver of a thong. You might as well have come with no underwear.

The coat suddenly feels too constricting, so he unbuttons it with a sharp motion, letting the heavy garment slide to the floor. But almost immediately, a flicker of concern crosses his face. The Dior number is a rental, and if it gets damaged, it won't be his head on the block—it'll be Davey's. With a hint of sheepishness, he retrieves it, carefully draping it over the back of an upholstered chair.

You notice the gesture, subtle but telling. He doesn’t quite belong to your world—or perhaps he does, but he moves through it without succumbing to its superficial trappings. Your friend Timothée wouldn’t have spared the coat a second glance, long since desensitized to the weight of designer labels.

But Ewan? He handles it all with a kind of quiet reverence, as if even in a borrowed piece of luxury, he remains grounded in something real.

And it only intensifies your desire for him.

There's a wanton intrigue in your eyes as you take in the bareness of his torso. His muscles are defined, but not in the off-putting gym rat kind of way. Instead, there's a natural leanness to his form—a testament to a body honed not for vanity, but for purpose.

Kneeling before you, eyes bright with awe, he gets right down to work. He pushes the fabric of your dress higher, out of his way, and you help him along, your fist bunching the skirt to one side.

"God, you're... perfect," he whispers. His palms rest on your thighs, and when his lips press to the sensitive skin just above your knee, you let out an involuntary sound that draws a low groan from his throat.

"Ewan," you breathe impatiently, unable to conceal your need for him. But he doesn't rush, dragging his mouth higher, trailing kisses along your inner thigh, his eyes fluttering closed as he savours the sensation.

He pauses just before pulling down the waistband of your thong, glancing up at you with wide, darkened eyes. "Tell me if I'm... if I'm doing too much," he says, almost shyly.

"You're not doing enough," you reply. "Keep going."

So he does. He slides the white lace down your ankles, then presses his mouth to your core, his tongue pushing between your folds with a fervour that makes your head fall back. His guttural moan is muffled as he goes down on you, the vibration of it causing heat to pool in your lower belly. You press the flat stem of your heel to the back of his head, drawing him closer.

"Fuck, Ewan," you gasp aloud, your hips rolling instinctively against his mouth as he works you over. He licks you, sloppy and desperate, his inexperience showing but somehow making it even better. He's so determined to give you pleasure, so eager to make you come undone, that he doesn't care about anything else.

He doesn't care about acting like a starved animal as he sucks on your pussy. All Ewan wishes for, in that very moment, is that you cum all over him—the sweet substance flooding his tongue, dripping down his chin, far more sumptuous than everything they have on offer in the party's banquet.

He's seen you fake an orgasm for a scene before, but this is real.

His tongue flicks over your bud, and when you cry out, he doubles his efforts. He wraps his lips around the aching nub to suck gently, then slides a finger into you, curling it just right. Adding another, he increases the pace, his fingertips pulsing into that damned spot within your walls each time.

The defined bridge of his nose is flush against your clit as he moves, augmenting your pleasure. The whole thing is messy, unrefined, and so damn good that it has you teetering on the edge in no time.

Your thighs quiver around his head, and when your orgasm crashes over you, you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Ewan keeps going, his tongue and fingers refusing to let up, coaxing every last shudder from you until you're trembling and gasping for air.

"Holy. Shit." You lean back on your elbows to recuperate as white spots flood your vision.

"Did I... was that... was that good?" he asks with his lips shiny and swollen, practically yearning for your approval.

"Yeah," you manage, but it escapes your lips as a small, incoherent sigh.

"Hmm? What? What was that... baby?"

Baby, he says. But with the way, he's being so sweet, so dumbstruck, he's certainly the baby in this dynamic.

"More," you give him a better answer, "C'mere." You pull him up to your level, tasting yourself on his lips. Leveraging your legs around his waist, you keep him caged in. The outline of his hardened cock presses against your pelvis, and when you grind into him, his teeth clamp down on your bottom lip.

"Aghhh, hey!"

"Shit, I'm sorry—"

"It's okay," you whisper, not letting him pull away. "I liked it. And I want more."

"Anything, baby," he promises, and the raw honesty in his tone makes your chest tighten. "Anything you want. I'll—fuck—I'll give it to you. I'm all yours."

You nod once, before he claims your lips again in a bruising kiss. One of the thin straps of your dress falls from your shoulder, and he visibly shivers in excitement at the sight of your exposed breast.

"Fuck," he sighs, his hand coming up almost hesitantly to cup you. His thumb brushes over your nipple, as he takes you in with lust-clouded eyes. He leans down and captures the flesh with his mouth, his tongue swirling around your tender peak until you're left squirming.

You reach for him, fumbling with his belt and his zipper, and he helps you, his movements even more hurried and uncoordinated than yours.

When he frees himself, you can't help but stare—his cock is long and hard, already slick with precum. The sight makes your mouth water, and when you drag your gaze back up to his face, you find him watching you, his expression somewhere between bashful and utterly wrecked.

Ewan's hair, once gelled to immaculate perfection, now lies in disarray. He'll need to borrow your comb before he dares rejoin the party. The lower half of his face bears the unmistakable traces of cum and smudged rouge, a vivid testament to the chaotic indulgences of the evening. And somewhere in the frenzy of fumbling and fondling, his clip-on Dior earring has gone astray. He feels the absence keenly, like a phantom limb, yet he resigns himself to the loss—for now, it's a dilemma best left for another moment.

"You're staring," he says, an uneasy laugh escaping him, but there's heat in his gaze, a newfound confidence grounding his nerves.

"Because I like what I see," you reply.

"Tell me if this is too much," he says, his anxiety resurfacing through the haze of lust. It's endearing—so much so that you can't help but smile.

"Ewan," you say firmly. "I want everything."

He groans faintly as he lines himself up. Carefully, he pushes into you, and the stretch is exquisite, sending a shiver rippling up your spine. You both moan, the sound echoing in the quiet of the room. He buries himself to the hilt, pausing to catch his breath, his fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck, oh fuck," he murmurs, looking down at where your bodies meet. "Your pussy feels so good."

The compliment makes you feel something you can't pinpoint, but there’s no time to dwell on it. He starts to move, his thrusts tentative at first, testing the waters. But the whorish mewls spilling from your lips spur him on, and soon, he finds a rhythm—deep, steady, and just rough enough to leave you begging for more.

"Fuck, Ewan," you gasp, your nails scraping lightly against his back. "Yeah... just like that."

Your words are the only encouragement he needs. His pace quickens, and his grip on you tightens as if he's about to confess that he wants to own you. He's already yours, so it's only fair, isn't it?

He's spent years fantasizing about how your pussy would feel, squeezing his cock like a goddamn vice, and he's happy to find out that his imagination is nothing compared to the real thing.

"So sexy, baby," he mutters, his voice muffled as he nips at your neck. "Better than I ever—" He cuts himself off with a groan, his teeth grazing your skin.

You raise your legs higher up his torso to draw him deeper. The angle sends a bolt of pleasure through you, and your moans grow louder despite your attempts to keep quiet.

Then, suddenly, the doorknob rattles.

Both of you freeze, Ewan still buried deep inside your fleshy walls, his eyes wide with panic. The sound of a familiar voice seeps through the door, followed by a frustrated sigh.

"Where the hell did I leave my phone?" It's your friend, Florence Pugh. Her voice is unmistakable, and the realisation makes your stomach drop.

Ewan’s lips form a silent oh my God. You bite back a laugh, pressing a hand over your mouth as Florence jiggles the doorknob again.

"Seriously?" she mutters. "Locked? For fuck's sake."

You hear her footsteps retreat, her voice fading as she calls out to someone else. "Have you seen my phone? I swear I left it out here."

The moment the coast is clear, you both exhale in unison, the tension breaking into a mix of laughter and relief. Ewan drops his forehead to your shoulder, shaking his head. "This is insane," he whispers, though he doesn't feel a single ounce of regret.

"You're the one who couldn't keep it in his pants," you tease, rolling your hips slightly to remind him of your still-connected bodies.

His response is a low growl, and he resumes his thrusts, harder this time, filled with unfiltered desire. The near-miss only seems to have fueled him, the snap of his hips more frantic, more intense. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room—mumbled curses, breathless moans, sticky slapping of flesh meeting flesh.

"God, you're incredible," he says, his voice strained. "I can't get enough of you."

You feel the coil in your belly tightening again, the pressure building with each thrust. Your delicate fingers dig into his shoulders, and he groans at the sensation, his cock twitching deep inside you. His rhythm falters for only a second before he recovers.

"Ewan," you gasp, your voice breaking. "I'm so close—don't stop."

"Come for me, baby," he says, his hand slipping between your bodies to find your clit. It sends you spiraling, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cry out, your body tensing and shuddering beneath him as he continues to move, chasing his own release.

He reaches up and twists your nipple, the sharp sensation making you gasp just before he comes. The sight of you—head thrown back, breast bouncing free from your designer gown, your smudged red lips parted in bliss—drives him to the brink. With a strangled growl, he slams into you one final time. His body shakes as he spills inside you, the warmth of his release flooding you completely. You both tremble in the aftermath, caught in the intensity of the moment, gasping for air, drenched in sweat and tangled in raw desire.

You blink lazily at him, a beautiful mess of tousled hair and make-up in dire need of a retouch. "Still think I'm a liability?" you ask.

"Oh, absolutely. But one worth keeping anyway."

Ewan sits in his dimly lit London apartment, the glow of his phone the only other source of light in the room. A half-empty bottle of Guinness sits forgotten on his coffee table. The screen displays your Instagram profile—your impossibly gorgeous face beaming at him from your latest post, which happens to be a professional photograph of you at the GQ party.

His finger hovers above the Follow button like it's the trigger of a detonator.

His newly-created account is laughably barren—no posts, no followers, no following. Just a desperate, last-ditch attempt to tether himself back to you, even if only digitally.

Ewan had always sworn off social media, claiming it wasn't his style, that he preferred the privacy and the mystique. Yet, here he is, spiraling, drunk on the memory of you and of that night.

The coatroom had been a blur. The attendant had returned far too soon, a flurry of apologies as Florence appeared behind her, claiming her phone from her coat pocket with a triumphant smirk.

Ewan remembers how Florence had tugged you aside, your laughter ringing out as she swiped her thumb across your lips, erasing the evidence of that kiss—or maybe just rearranging it. You had been whisked away to the ladies' room, leaving him standing there, disheveled, speechless, and utterly entranced. He hadn't even managed to get your number.

It's been days since, but he still feels the ghost of your touch, the echo of your moans, the scent of you on his skin. He's tried to focus, tried to pick up his scripts, but his mind keeps replaying the way you looked as you came.

He has even rewatched a film of yours, with special attention paid to a particular love scene. Watching it over and over, repeatedly going back to the timestamp where you're seen riding your male costar.

He felt aroused watching you. Also, incredibly fucking jealous.

"Pathetic," he mutters to himself, his finger still hovering. His thumb twitches, brushing the screen, but before he can commit to his descent into full-blown thirst, his phone buzzes violently, the vibration startling him into dropping it onto the couch.

"Shit." He snatches it back up, squinting at the screen. It's a call from his agent.

"Ewan," comes the voice on the other end, crisp and faintly incredulous. "What the hell did you do at that party?"

His heart stops for a beat. "Uh... what?"

"The party. The GQ one. The one where you disappeared for, what, an hour? Maybe more?"

Ewan's brain scrambles. "I don't—I mean, I just mingled. Like you suggested,” he stammers, his voice cracking slightly. "Why?"

"Because," the agent says, drawing out the word like it's a prize reveal, "you've been shortlisted for a chemistry test next week."

"A chemistry test?" Ewan echoes, blinking. "For what?"

"For her film," his agent says, emphasizing the pronoun like it's blasphemous not to know who you are. "It's one of those secret big-budget Hollywood projects only top actors are getting called for. We didn't submit you because—well, not to be rude, but you're not exactly on their radar for that level yet."

Ewan's heart starts pounding. He sits up straighter, gripping the phone tighter. "Wait, wait. What film? Who's—who's her?"

But he already knows the answer.

His agent drops your name, exasperated now. "Apparently she petitioned for you, Ewan. Said you'd be perfect. So what did you do?”

Ewan is stunned into silence. He leans back against the couch, a slow grin spreading across his face as the pieces click into place. You. You'd done this. You’d reached out and used your pull to bring him into your orbit again.

"What did I do?" he repeats. "Oh, nothing much. Just... made an impression."

"Well, whatever it was, it worked. Chemistry tests are next week in L.A. They'll send over the details. And Ewan," the agent pauses, lowering their voice slightly, "don't screw this up. This is huge."

"I won't," Ewan says, his tone confident now. "I promise."

When the call ends, he stares at his phone for a long moment, the grin still lingering. He glances back at your Instagram profile, his thumb poised over the Follow button again. Then he snorts, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside him.

"What's the point?” he mutters to himself, his grin turning into a full-on self-satisfied smirk. "I'll see you soon enough."

He reaches for the bottle of Guinness instead, lifting it in a silent toast to fate—or whatever it is that's tied you two together.

Something came out of all that mingling after all.

taglist: @bitchception @insideyourimagination @angels-wouldnt-help-youu @seamaiden @silverdragonfly @powpowjinxlife @starfishjellyfish5 @shellysa14 @delespresso @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @ninihrtss @believeinthefireflies95 @peachysunrize @darktrashsoulbear

[itsjennygirlz]

Here's the second part of a Story I wrote for another caption, you can have look here:

https://www.tumblr.com/itsjennygirlz/754945217832042496/since-you-always-had-a-crush-on-lindsay-the-girl?source=share

Since you Sissy Girlz wanted to know what's next here's part 2:

Mary was standing at your door, she seemed so excited!

"Come on Sis, show me how you put on that cute bikini Lindsay and I bought you".

You were so confused, and scared, as you stayed speechless, Mary said "If you don't do what I say, I'll told Lindsay you have a crush on her, would you want that to happen Jane ?". You took a minute to get your head clear, if Lindsay knows about you, you won't have a chance...So you took the bikini from the bag and started to put it on. "Let me help you Sissy" Mary helped you to put on the top. "Now a little bit of make-up !" She grabbed her make-up kit, and started to put some mascara on your eyes "Don't worry honey it's waterproof! Now which lipstick would you like to wear ?". Before that moment, you never thought you've ever had to answer that question. As you take a look at different options, you see the bright pink one and think how ridiculous you'll look with this lipstick on. Of course that's the moment Mary chose to decide for you "Seems like you've felt in love with one didn't you ? Good choice Sis you'll look so girly". She forced the pink one on your lips, you've hated yourself for that, but you've kinda enjoyed the sensation.

And then she took a step back to take a good look at you.

"Omg Jane you look, amaaaaazing ! We could barely say you're not a girl". That last part hit you pretty hard, mainly because Mary was right. As you took a look at yourself in the mirror you were so shocked to see how Mary made you look like an hot teenage girl.

As you were looking at yourself you've heard Mary giggling. "I can't believe, my brother is a real Sissy" At that moment you've realize  you're having an erection. You immediately start to blush. "Don't worry Jane, it's perfectly normal for Sissy like you to be exited for your first bikini afternoon with the Girls! I'm pretty sure Lindsay and Sarah will figure out how to make your little clitty stop bothering us. But we'll see that later...."

*Ding-dong*

"Oh that's probably Lindsay and Sarah ! Perfect timing, now let's go to the swimming pool !!! Come on in Girls, let me introduce you to my new little sister"

[witchygagirlwrites]

Cinder-Part 2

Kevin Atwater x Reader (nicknamed Cinder)

So, maybe you do like Kevin???

Warnings: Cursing and some violence, adorable dorks flirting

You parked your jeep and climbed out, grabbing your bag to head into the precinct. You heard a whistle followed by someone calling your name. You spun around to see Kevin walking towards you. “Morning Atwater” he grinned “Morning Cinder..I got you something” you raised an eyebrow “You got me something?” he nodded and reached into his jacket pocket and held out a duck that was dressed like Maleficent. Your eyes lit up “Holy hell! Where did you find this!” 

He grinned “Can’t be giving you all my secrets quite yet, now can I? Just wanted to show proof that detectives in the twenty-first are cool. At least in Intelligence anyways” you grinned and took the duck then unlocked your jeep and leaned back in to put it with the others. When you climbed back out you smiled at him “Now I feel like I need to one up you and surprise you with something” he shrugged “I ain’t gonna turn down a present from a pretty woman but don’t stress yourself either”

You shook your head as you fell in next to him, both of you walking up the steps into the precinct. He held the door open for you then once both of you were inside he nodded towards the stairs leading up to Intelligence “I’m gonna head up, see you around” “See you around” you replied with a smile. You headed to the locker room to get changed.

 “Son of a bitch” you muttered under your breath, as you chased a guy down an alley. Billy had gone wide in an effort to cut him off while you stayed on his ass.

You and Billy were tasked with chasing this guy down in ties with one of Voight’s cases and apparently he knew something good because the moment he saw the uniforms this guy had decided to give the freaking flash a run for his money.

You slid around a corner and managed to slam into the guy, knocking him full force down to the concrete at the same time Billy caught up. “STAY DOWN” you both yelled in unison.

You shifted to have your knee in the guy’s lower back and cut your eyes up at Billy “Got me?” He nodded, gun out and pointed down but ready “I got you” you took some of your weight off the guy to reach for your cuffs. “Now, you’re under arrest for suspicion of drug smuggling, human trafficking and just being an asshole” 

“Man I don’t know nothing about none of that” he argued as you snatched him to his feet. Billy nodded “So the foot chase was you making sure CPD got our exercise in for the day?” The guy had the nerve to grin “Yes sir officer, just doing my civic duty” “You stupid bastard” you muttered and shook your head.

__________________

Ronnie Gore. Some low level runner. The thing was he knew basically every step of Jones' business. If Voight could flip him it could help a lot. 

Everyone was in the bullpen when the gate popped and Voight walked out of his office “We got Gore” “Who is we?” Kevin heard your voice and couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto his face as you made it to the top of the stairs, shoving Gore in front of you.

Voight crossed his arms “Officer Platt, Officer Martell. Good job” he saw the smirk that you and Voight were both trying to hide as you passed Gore off to Halstead. “All I ask” you told Voight with a grin. Lindsay shook her head because she knew you could get by with it like she could. 

You turned to leave but cut your eyes at him and smiled before slapping Martell on the shoulder and the two of you headed down the stairs. “Man don’t do it” Adam’s voice hit his ears and he turned to look to see Adam was grinning at him “Do what?”

“The way you’re looking at Platts niece?” Adam offered and he scoffed “I ain’t looking at Cinder no way” Adam grinned “And I don’t look at Kim no way, Jay don’t look at Erin no way” Kevin shook his head “Man shut the hell up” and that just spurred Adam to start laughing “You’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?”

“She's nice, that's all” he tried but Adam shook his head “Platts niece. Damn kev” 

______________

“I’m not saying don't do it but you do know with him being in intelligence there may be some mouth running?” Billy said as the two of you finally sat down for lunch. “What are we talking about exactly?” You asked and he rolled his eyes “You and Atwater! The way you can see the little cartoon hearts floating around when you two are near each other? The man bought you a fucking duck for christs sake!”

“The duck was more than likely because he found out I’m Trudy’s niece” you reminded him and he shook his head “I know you’re Trudy’s niece and I don’t care” you rolled your eyes “I didn’t accuse you of being an ass the first day we met because I ran into you like I did him?” You reminded him and he nodded “And the way the man looks at you?” You shook your head “He doesn’t look at me any type of way Billy”

“You’re both damn good cops! How are you so oblivious?” He asked and you shook your head “Eat before I take your fries” 

You had gotten roped into going out. Well Erin had showed up to your apartment with Jay in tow and said “Grab your jacket” that was the end of that. You knew her better than that so you did indeed grab your jacket.

______

You walked into Molly’s and Jay looked back “What ya want Cin?” “Just a beer?” You asked and he nodded “Got ya” and pressed a kiss to Erin’s temple before he headed to the bar and she dragged you to the corner where their unit was. You spotted Billy and a few other patrolmen “I’m talking to my partner Linds” you told her and she nodded “Ok”

You walked over and he grinned “Out with the big boys” “I will kick your ass here and now” you swore and he winked at you “No you won’t. You don’t know what kind of partner you may get next” ok, he had you there. “Where’s your boyfriend?” You asked and he nodded to the bathroom where Lyle was headed to the two of you then he cut his eyes back at you “Where’s your boyfriend?” 

You glared at him then he looked towards the door and grinned “Oh, there he is” you turned to follow his line of sight without thinking and had to bite your damn cheek to not smile when Kevin walked in. He noticed you and a smile slipped onto his face and you lost the fight with not smiling then and there. 

“Aww that’s adorable” he teased and you rolled your eyes “Bite me William” he grinned “I’m certain Atwater would prefer that task” you shook your head as Kevin made it to the two of you and luckily did not hear Billy’s teasing. “Sup cinder? How did they get you out tonight?”

You looked around then pointed to Erin “I was kidnapped by two of your unit” he shrugged “I’d say something but I got to see you so I can’t be too mad now can I?” Billy made a sound behind you so you told Kevin “excuse me” then turned and punched Billy’s arm and told Lyle hey before saying “Ok, Jay has me a beer anyways so let’s go”

You lead the way to the corner where intelligence was taking up a couple tables. Jay held your beer out and you smiled when you saw he had a napkin over the top of it. “Thank you sir” he nodded “You’re welcome ma’am” “Aren’t they adorable?” Erin teased and Kevin shook his head “Cinder? Sure. Halstead? Not so much”

“I’m hurt Kev, really I am. I’d call you adorable” you laughed as the two of them started playfully arguing so you sat down between Erin and Kim.

_____________

Kevin didn’t miss how Adam kept giving him looks every time the two of you would start talking. He was not flirting with you, you were not flirting with him. Dammit y’all were just talking. 

“Are we still going shopping tomorrow?” Kim asked you and that got his attention back on the conversations happening around him. “Yeah, I mean unless Adam decides he doesn’t want to share you” you laughed, cutting your eyes at Adam who winked at you “Anyone else? No. You? I’ll let it slide this once” 

“Erin?” You asked and she nodded “Sure” you had moved to sit between Kevin and Kim after you had gone to the bathroom so every time you moved you were either bumping against him or just leaning around him to talk. “You need to trade places short stuff?” He asked with a grin and you playfully glared at him “No, I’m fine. Not everyone is as big as you are Mr Atwater”

“I’d say I’m sorry but I ain’t never had no complaints” he had not meant for that to slip out. Everyone cracked up laughing and your eyes widened before one eyebrow shot up “I bet you haven’t” and that made his face warm because he had definitely not been expecting you to say that.

_________

“Ok Cin, Erin come on you two” Jay was rounding you and Erin up like he was herding cats. You weren’t even drunk. You just weren’t listening to him. “Fine, take me home Halstead then go ravish your girl” you laughed and waved to the rest of the unit “Bye, Kim see you tomorrow. Adam you’re a dick but I like you, Kevin you’re a sweetheart”

Jay shook his head “I really don’t feel like carrying both of you but I will” Erin grabbed your hand “He means it” you both ran out to his truck, laughing.

“This is dumb, god this is dumb” you touched the keychain that was in your pocket and not for the first time considered just giving it to Trudy. “No, you’re giving it to him” Billy urged you and he grabbed your arm, waving at Kevin to hold up before he walked into the precinct.

Kevin walked over to the two of you “Morning” Billy smiled “Morning Atwater, Cinder got you something” then he damn near ran up the stairs inside.

Kevin watched him go then looked at you with a smile “You got me something?” “It’s dumb, you can tell me it’s dumb” he nodded slowly “Can I see it first?”

You pulled the keychain out. It had a tiny little duck at the end that was dressed in a uniform that looked nearly identical to the one you were wearing. “This for me?” He asked and you shrugged “I saw it and I already have too many keychains, any more and I’ll hurt my ignition. If you don’t like it it’s ok. I can give it to Trudy or Billy can give it to Lyle or….” He cut you off by saying your name lightly.

You looked up at him and he held his hand out “Can I have my keychain?” You put it in his hand and he pulled his house keys out of his pocket and immediately put them on it. “See? Now my favorite little patrolman can watch my house keys for me” 

You felt your face warm “You don’t have to use it Kev” he smiled “You got it for me angel, it’s cute and looks like you. I’m gonna use it because I want to” “Ok” you finally said and he smiled “Thank you by the way” “You’re welcome” he held out his hand “Come on, niece or not Trudy is gonna get your ass if you’re late to roll call” 

He pulled you up the stairs behind him and dropped your hand to open the door. You walked in the threshold in front of him. When you got to the front desk he veered off to go upstairs while you veered off to go behind Billy. 

“So?” Billy asked and you smiled “He put his house keys on it” “You two are fucking adorable” he laughed and slung his arm around your shoulders “Come on, let’s get to work”

Part 3

@elvenpirate51

[dramaticallytotal]

TDWT Headcanons Pt. 8

Idea Post Part One Last Part

• Chris did provide jackets for everyone in the Yukon. Just because he didn't want to be sued again and he knew Courtney was itching to do so. Definitely not for his anemic kid- anemic assistant.

• Chris and Chef also provided board and card games for the kids for downtime or in between shoots as they know bored kids and dangerous kids. Plus, Izzy makes up most of that danger if bored, which means they have to include Monopoly since that is her favorite game.

• Noah's not allowed to play blackjack since he can count cards.

• Clue is a popular game to play amongst the kids, and because there are so many of them, they tend to team up. Noah and Izzy aren't allowed to team up anymore. Neither are Heather and Leshawna.

• Alejandro doesn't want to admit that he loves game days because it was something he never got to do in his family, but he really loves it. He's was only allowed to play chess, checkers, go, and the like. (He gets really excited to know Noah, Heather, and Cody play go they also play chess along with Courtney).

• Hide and Seek is another popular game they all play, and though Courtney and Heather like to pretend they're too mature for it, they end up the most competitive on finding people and hiding. Izzy, Noah, Leshawna, and Cody are almost always the last ones to be found. Alejandro loves the game but also has a hard time with it because José used to pretend they were playing hide and seek and then just leave Alejandro hiding for hours.

• Harold has hosted DnD campaigns for some of the cast between Action and World Tour. The common players are Noah, Cody, Owen, Leshawna, Heather, Beth, Lindsay, and Trent.

• Lindsay carries emergency lip gloss and chapstick with her at all times. Not just for herself! For everyone. No one knows where she hides them all. She even assigned specific scents/flavors to people. Everyone found this out in Yukon when she screamed about chapped lips.

• Even though she is pretending to not know who Tyler is, she makes sure to give him his favorite chapstick: Cake Batter.

• The kids are constantly quoting vines, and it leaves Chris and Chef really confused and done.

• Example:

Cody, seeing a road work ahead sign when they are staying at a hotel: "Road work ahead?"

All the contestants' heads popped up from their seats of the bus they rented.

Chef driving looks at Chris who looks baffled: "Uh yeah."

Chris: "Have you guys seriously never seen those signs before? It means-"

All the contestants in perfect unison: "Uh, yeah. I sure hope it does."

Chris and Chef looking at the contestants then at each other: -_-

• The contestants are allowed to change up their outfits in episodes as long as they consist of the pieces of clothing they were wearing when they got introduced. So, for example, Noah can take off any of his shirts as long as he's wearing at least one that everyone knows is part of his signature outfit. Izzy sometimes uses her skirt wrap as a shawl. Lindsay has convertible boots where she can switch out the height of her heel/different style of heel.

• Gwen makes sure to get a postcard everywhere they stop to give to her Nana after the show is over.

• Ezekiel has a room in the crew part of the ship, but there's a camera pointed at the cargo hold door with a motion sensor alarm for him to know if someone goes in. It's so he can sneak down and make some noise to freak someone out and to sell the whole "feral" plot.

• Tyler, despite being basically supernaturally clumsy, is actually a really good cheer leader. In fact, he is on his school's cheer team.

• In the London challenge, Noah was the one to distract the corgis....well more like they distracted him and everyone watching is baffled when Noah pulls out a bag of dog treats that should not have fit in his utility belt. The corgis fell in love with him, and instead of Owen putting them in a sack, they followed Noah out like ducklings.

• Owen, being more of a little shit when Duncan starts being buddy buddy with him, convinces the punk that if they want to stay on Alejandro's good side to call him Al. Later in the confessional, Owen just smiled maniacally and cackled.

• When Noah was eliminated, he did fall into the lake like in canon kind of. Each time a contestant jumps out, there is almost always a body of water, a landing pad, or something to help break their fall with or without a parachute. They always make it seem like they fell from higher up if it's a stunt with no parachute. So, thankfully, Noah hit the mat, but he hit the side and promptly slipped off into the eel infested lake.

• Luckily, he wasn't fully submerged and quickly got but not before he was attacked by one eel. It leaped out of the water and hit his leg. It was more of a graze, really, considering he was actively getting out of the lake. It wasn't terrible, but he still had to go to the hospital

• The kids also hella quote SpongeBob.

• First class does have a TV. But there are so many parental locks on that thing.

• Heather is getting really sick and tired of Alejandro's big obvious crush on Noah. She's trying her best to keep him focused on getting...ew...aleheather to happen for the cameras. She wants her promised bonus for it. But she also wants her friend back. So she wants this whole thing to be a speed run because it's breaking her that Noah won't even look at her anymore. She knows why, god she knows, but she hates it.

• If you have a deal with Chris or the network, you are not allowed to reveal it under any circumstances during the duration of the show with the penalty of doing so being immediate disqualification and a penalty fee.

• Which is why she can't tell Noah about her deal, but the distance between them hurts. It started when he confessed to Heather that he may have had a small, very small crush on Alejandro. Then, she had been told the producers wanted the flirting between her and Alejandro more present in the next episode. She did it, but she saw how betrayed Noah looked at her.

• Next thing she knew, he was eliminated.

• Gwen started to hide her sketchbook because she started drawing Trent a lot more like when they were dating, and she's afraid someone will see it and start to think they'd start throwing challenges again for something as simple as her still liking her ex.

• The fake "pregnancy" scandal Blaineley announced about Tyler was actually him trying on the 9-month baby belly they have for health class to see if he could bend down and sit down with as much ease as his buddies thought. (His parents sued Celebrity Manhunt for spreading false and demeaning information about him).

• And someone did die after cooking a recipe from DJ and his Momma's show, "Momma's Heaping Healthy," but it wasn't because of the calories, carbs, or cholesterol, or anything like that. It was because the person who made it didn't substitute an ingredient that someone from their family was allergic to, and the person ate the food at a family reunion. The person who served it tried to blame DJ and his Momma's recipe, but that didn't hold up, so he tried to sue them for not including substitute options. It's a very messy situation since some saw what was going on and decided to sue the mother & son duo for their excessive weight gain. Then, more people jumped on the smoking train and started claiming their food was the cause of multiple problems.

• DJ and his Momma used a lot of money to pay lawyers. They're not homeless, just a little low on funds at the moment. DJ wants to win to get them back the money they spent on lawyers but to also open a restaurant with his mom instead of the show. With a restaurant, they would have more insurance with bogus claims like the ones they were dealing with.

• Owen's ad for the Bellybuster 5000 was a satire commercial he did for a comedy show.

• The only true things Blainley reported were the raccoon adoption between Courtney and Duncan, Heather's weight gain, and the subsequent back and forth she and Gwen went through, and the Total Drama Brothers' split.

• It was because of the lies and the angry parents suing her and Celebrity Manhunt about them, plus the treatment of the interns was real, and they sued too. Also it was aired on live TV... Everyone saw it, and a lot of people were appalled. This is some of the reasons she was fired from Celebrity Manhunt.

• Leshawna didn't actually knock a tooth out of Heather, but they did fight in Germany, which resulted in them getting into each other's faces and Leshawna slapping Heather hard. She hadn't meant to do it so hard, but Chris took her aside and said the majority of the viewers missed her and Heather fighting, and he would pay her a large sum to amp up any fight they had. They had had small spats here and there because of Alejandro, but the one in Germany was the worst because Heather brought up something she had told her in confidence, which resulted in the slap.

• Alejandro is so whipped. He practically melts when he's the chosen cuddle buddy for the night. He secretly wishes that he was the only cuddle buddy, I mean, it makes sense! They fit so well together, and plus he runs hot and Noah is always cold, and they help regulate each other.

• Noah gave up trying not to cuddle with anyone once Izzy let it out that he's already been filmed cuddling almost everyone. He wasn't happy at all, but he knew it would keep happening, so he made a list of those he is okay cuddling.

• Him adding Alejandro is purely strategic shut up.

Next Part

[kk095]

Life and Death in the ER: Dr Lindsay

*Good evening everyone, I hope all is well. I greatly appreciate all the positive feedback on my last story Alexa's Arrhythmia! I'd like to try something a little different with the story you're about to read. Although it may not be everyone's cup of tea, I think it's a great opportunity for you guys to get to know some of our go-to characters a little better. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!*

Aside from medicine, Dr Lindsay’s passion in life is running. The cute, sporty tomboy doctor we all know and love was a college track star at the D1 college she attended once upon a time ago. Believe it or not, Lindsay had legitimate Olympic aspirations, and at one point in time, she was set to qualify for the United States women’s track team. But fate had other plans, which came in the form of a sudden, severe ACL and LCL tear in her left knee. Reconstructive surgery was performed and she of course recovered, but Lindsay definitely lost her X factor. Even though Lindsay could still run circles around 99% of humanity as a 33 year old with a bum knee, she lost that slight edge all those years ago, which is all it took for her Olympic hopes and dreams to go up in smoke. Sometimes Lindsay thought “what if?” in regards to her potential professional sports career, but at the same time, being an ER physician fulfilled her in a different way.

Lindsay truly embraced her role as a doctor and caretaker in the emergency department, always going the extra mile for her patients and thinking outside the box to try to save them. Time after time, Dr Lindsay found herself in the midst of life and death struggles in the trauma bay, always seeming to have her hands inside the chest of a beautiful woman. But right now, somewhere in an alternate reality, the role was reversed, with Lindsay being the beauty fighting for her life in the all too familiar emergency department.

The room Lindsay found herself in was quite a scene. A cacophony of sound hit anyone the instant they set foot in the room. Alarms and monitors were going off. Orders were being barked. Footsteps pitter-pattered around the room. The high pitched, electrical whirring of defibrillators charging echoed around the room from yet another unsuccessful shock. The tension was palpable.

All across the floor of the room, various items were strewn about. Wrappers from bits of medical equipment were tossed to the ground. Empty, used up blood transfusion and IV bags found themselves discarded. Lindsay’s bloody, tattered clothes also wound up on the light colored tile after a brief encounter with a set of shears. Small droplets of blood made a trail leading from the room’s entrance, all the way over to where the trauma room table was.

On the table, underneath the harsh, bright, fluorescent overhead light was the center of attention for the room’s occupants. Dr Sarah, Nurse Nancy, and Nurse Heather worked as a trio, each lady knowing their role inside out, backwards and forwards, from A to Z. Everyone knew their jobs at an expert level, but it was easier said than done for the emergency department’s triumvirate to maintain composure and impartiality, considering a friend and colleague was the poor soul requiring their lifesaving services this time.

Nurse Nancy, the 20+ year veteran of the ER who’s been there, done that, and seen it all stood at the head of the bed ambu bagging, sending much needed air into Dr Lindsay’s lungs. The stress, chaos, gore, and shock that came with being an ER nurse never fazed Nancy, especially after being exposed to such things for over two decades. But in this scenario, Nancy struggled. This wasn’t a stranger on the table tonight. Nurse Nancy couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of the ER’s go-to, unanimously loved leader being the one on the table this time. Heck, Nancy couldn’t even bring herself to look down at the table, not wanting to see her friend’s face, or the overall shape she was in. There was a knot in Nancy’s stomach, and her heart was racing. She hoped and prayed Dr Lindsay would pull through, but as each minute ticked by, each one faster than the last, Nancy’s hope was soon replaced by dread.

Heather, our emergency team’s dependable, hardworking nurse who regularly showed her moxie, stood off to the side of the table, tasked with keeping an eye on the heart monitors in order to note any changes, as well as pushing meds and setting up any equipment Dr Sarah may need. Heather’s eyes were trained on the heart monitors, which displayed a squiggly, sinuous, unorganized line. That squiggly line Heather watched signified something called ventricular fibrillation- a situation where a patient’s heart is twitching instead of actually beating, typically requiring a defibrillator shock in order to restore normal cardiac activity. Ventricular fibrillation, commonly known as v-fib amongst healthcare professionals, was something Heather has seen more times than she could count during her handful of years as a nurse. However, Heather found herself stunned when eyeing the heart monitor, coming to the stark realization that a familiar face was the one being resuscitated this time.

Dr Sarah, the cute, petite, nerdy redheaded doctor who, for all intents and purposes, was Dr Lindsay’s right hand man and most important ally in the battlegrounds of the trauma bay, stood right up against the table, doing anything and everything to bring her fellow ER doc back. Sarah had her gloved hands inside Lindsay’s chest, which was splayed open earlier in the struggle via a clamshell thoracotomy. The redheaded doctor’s hands were firmly wrapped around Dr Lindsay’s boggy, fibrillating heart, vigorously massaging away. A wet, rhythmic squishing sound was produced from Sarah’s internal compressions. “come on Linds… come on….” Sarah uttered under her breath, trying to fight the overwhelming emotions that attempted to consume her. “You were just talking to us Linds… Come on…” continued Sarah, trying to will Lindsay back amongst the living.

Sarah composed herself for a moment. “Let’s shock her again. Recharge the paddles to 30, Heather.” Ordered Sarah, stepping up to the plate. Heather did what she had to do. She set the crash cart to 30 joules and hit the charge button. The high pitched, electrical whining of the internal paddles charging filled the room as Heather handed Sarah the large, spoon shaped devices. Sarah pulled her hands out of Lindsay’s chest cavity and grabbed ahold of the internal paddles. Dr Sarah lowered the internal paddles into the gaping chasm of an incision site, around Lindsay’s erratically fluttering heart.

While her friends worked urgently to save her, Lindsay laid on the table, stripped completely nude, her toned, athletic body on full display in a room full of familiar faces, the violating nature of that fact going to the wayside due to the dire essence of the situation. Lindsay’s sandy, light brown hair was tied back in a messy bun or ponytail of sorts, being held in place with a black headband. The doctor’s icy, sky blue eyes remained open, her pupils the size of dimes, staring up above with a full blown death stare etched onto her face. She was intubated, with the ET tube being secured by a blue tube holder around the area of her mouth and lips. IV lines stuck out of both her arms. Her torso was littered with EKG electrodes and wires. A chest tube stuck out the left side of Lindsay’s ribs, redirecting blood and trapped air outwards. The rest of her upper torso, and belly to a lesser degree, were soaked with a combination of both blood and betadine. However, Lindsay’s chest was the main sight of shock and awe. Her chest had a large, crude, gash just below the nipple line, extending the entirety of her chest horizontally. Not only was there a massive gash, her sternum was sawed in half, and her chest was splayed open via a clamshell thoracotomy. A metal rib retractor sat dead center in her chest, keeping everything open. A large, metal vascular clamp stuck up and out of the incision site. Sarah could also be seen holding the internal defibrillator paddles in place in anticipation of a shock.

“Paddles charged. Everyone… CLEAR!” Dr Sarah called out, everyone else stepping back from the table. THWACK. The shock was delivered. “mmmph…” Lindsay moaned softly, her torso twitching sharply in response to Sarah’s shock. The trio paused after the shock. The monitors beeped fast and loud, everyone’s eyes looking over to see if there was a change. “Come on… she’s still in v-fib. I’m going again at 30. Everyone…. CLEAR!” shouted Dr Sarah, immediately shocking Lindsay again. Lindsay’s shoulders shrugged forward and her arms shivered, a wet thump being heard. Like before, Dr Lindsay’s heartbeat was unable to be restored. Sarah decided to up the ante, shocking her friend and coworker at 40 joules during the next go around. “MMMM!” Lindsay moaned louder, as if she could feel the stronger intensity of the shock. Again, v-fib persisted. “I’m going again at 40! Everyone…CLEAR!” Barked Sarah, determined to keep going. The next shock caused Lindsay’s toes to scrunch up hard at the far end of the table, showing off the bright white nail polish on her toes, along with the wavy, thin, but prominent wrinkles that permeated the soles of the big, size 11 feet she was always so self conscious of.

Sarah wasn’t giving up, and neither was v-fib, so the fight was on. “Going again at 40! Everyone… CLEAR!!!” Sarah passionately yelled out, shocking Lindsay once more. Lindsay’s torso shot up and plopped back down hard all within the span of a second. The monitors kept alarming, but by that point, the trio tuned out the noise of the monitors, considering they were well aware there was a major problem. In the seconds after that shock, Lindsay’s heart fluttered and danced weakly for a moment, before coming to a sudden, complete stop. The heart monitors flatlined, and Lindsay’s heart sat completely motionless inside her cracked open chest. Lindsay’s beautiful blue eyes stayed wide open, staring up above, almost as if she was watching her friends determine their next move.

The flatline on the monitors was an absolute gut punch for everyone. Sarah stood there holding the internal paddles, deep in rumination about her next move. At the head of the bed, Nurse Nancy shined a pen light into Lindsay’s eyes. Lindsay’s pupils were the size of dimes, completely blown, not reacting to the pen light in the slightest. “oh… poor baby…” Nancy uttered, placing the pen light back in her breast pocket. “Pupils fixed and dilated.” Nancy continued, informing everyone, shaking her head. Heather looked over at the heart monitor. “Asystole on the monitors, down 37 minutes.” Added Heather. There was a collective pause after Heather’s words. Nancy didn’t say anything, but she went ahead and detached the ambu bag from the ET tube, a small amount of air quietly hissing out. The two nurses looked over at Sarah, knowing they’ve done all they could for their friend, but needed Sarah to make the final call.

Dr Sarah stood there shell shocked. Sure, Sarah has lost patients before- any ER doctor has. But this was different. This was a coworker. A colleague. A leader. Someone she looked up to. But most importantly, this was a friend. Sarah felt morally and emotionally obligated to continue resuscitation efforts. How could she just give up on Lindsay? At the same time, Dr Sarah viewed the situation clinically and logically. She knew that all possible options were exhausted. An asystolic patient with a downtime of 37 minutes and blown pupils was too far gone for additional interventions. With all this in mind, Sarah snapped back to reality, eyeing each member of the trauma team. Dr Sarah didn’t say a word to any of them. Finally, her eyes looked over at the clock that sat on the back left wall of the room. Sarah gently placed the internal paddles back down on the crash cart, then peeled her blood soaked, latex gloves off, her heart racing, eventually making the dreaded announcement. “Time of death, 8:08pm…” Sarah’s voice wobbling, on the verge of tears.

Nobody said a word, but everyone knew exactly what to do next. Nurse Nancy switched off the flatlined monitors, silencing the once noisy, hectic room. Heather disconnected the EKG electrodes and removed the IVs from each of Dr Lindsay’s arms. A blue surgical drape was hastily tossed on top of the open thoracotomy site, obscuring Lindsay’s inert, motionless heart from view. A toe tag was then filled out and placed on the big toe of Lindsay’s left foot. The tag dangled against the fine, thin, but prominent wrinkles that permeated the soles of Lindsay’s feet. Lastly, a cover was placed over Lindsay, concealing the hauntingly beautiful gaze forever etched onto her face. Unfortunately for Lindsay, a cruel twist of fate- and perhaps irony resulted in her dying in the very place she spent so much of her time. In this alternate reality, Dr Lindsay was now the hottie who laid toe tagged and under a sheet in the emergency department.

[lousypotatoes]

And A Filthy Pout

"All the misery was necessary

When we're deep in love

"This I know, this I know

Girl, I know, uh~"

Can't Feel My Face - The Weeknd

--

Previous

Next

Warning! This chapter does have mentions of puke, but it doesn't go into detail. If this grosses you out, please read with caution!

Dear Mom and Dad

I'm doing fine

You guys are on my mind

You asked me what I wanted to be

And I think the answer is plain to see

I wanna be famous

I wanna live close to the sun

So pack your bags 'cause I've already won

Nothing to do nothing in my way

I'll get there one day

I wanna be famous

Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na

I wanna be

I wanna be

I wanna be famous

I wanna be

I wanna be

I wanna be famous~

"Y/N," said a voice. "Y/N, wake up,"

Y/N groaned and turned the other way, putting her pillow over her face. "Go away, Bridgette! I'm not ready to get up yet!"

"If you don't get up, I'm dragging you out of bed," Bridgette said

"I'd like to see you try," Y/N scoffed. 

With no hesitation, Bridgette grabbed onto Y/N's leg and pulled, not as hard to completely pull her off the top bunk, but to at least move her a little bit. 

"Okay! Okay!" Y/N laughed, climbing down. "I'm getting up."

"Can you guys be quiet?" Courtney scowled, in the middle of doing her hair. "You guys are being really annoying."

"Well sorry for having a bit of fun," Y/N bit back, putting on her shirt. "What do you think the challenge will be today?"

"Well, knowing Chris," Sadie said, putting on some lip gloss. "It's definitely something to torture us."

"Oh yeah, definitely!" Katie echoed. "That guy can never give us a break."

"All right campers!" said Chris' voice from the megaphone outside. "Enough beauty sleep, time to show us what you're made of! Be at the amphitheater in ten minutes or you're not getting any lunch!"

"You go on without me," Bridgette said. "I need to find my hoodie."

"Okay, don't take too long." Y/N said. Walking out the door, she wasn't looking where she was going and bumped into someone's very solid chest.

"How come you're always bumping into me?" a deep voice laughed. 

"Because you're always in the way," Y/N scowled. "Good morning to you too, Duncan."

"Good morning princess," Duncan chuckled, the two of them beginning to walk to the amphitheater. "You sleep good?"

"As good as you can on a crusty ass mattress," Y/N yawned. "You?"

"Had all these springs pushing up into the back," he said. "But I slept pretty nice."

Y/N hummed, the pair of them now approaching the amphitheater. Mostly everyone was already there sitting on the seats in front of the theater. "That's good to hear. You might need the energy for whatever Chris has us do."

They both sat down, Duncan plopping down next to her. "Whatever it is, I just hope I don't really have to do anything."

Y/N smacked him the arm. "You're so lazy," she chuckled. 

"Are we gonna see a musical?" Lindsay said as she sat down. "I love musicals, especially the ones with singing and dancing."

"We better not be watching a musical," Duncan scoffed. "I hate watching those."

"Do you hate everything?"

"Everything except you princess,"

"In your dreams,"

"Welcome to our brand new deluxe state or the art outdoor amphitheater!" Chris announced, walking on stage. "Okay, this week's challenge is a summer camp favorite, a talent contest!

"Yes! Awesome!" Own exclaimed.

"Each team has eight hours to pick their three most talented campers," Chris explained, Y/N getting more and more excited. "These three will represent them in the show tonight! Sing, dance, juggle, anything goes!"

"As long as it's legal," Chris added, pointing his finger to Duncan.

"Damn," Duncan muttered.

"You'll be judged by our resident talent scout, former DJ, VJ, and rap legend, Grand Master Chef! Who will show his approval via the Chef-o-meter. The team that loses will send one camper home tonight! Good luck."

"Okay," Courtney said as soon as Chris walked off stage. "We'll meet back at the cabins to discuss our game plan."

"Before anything though," Y/N said, getting up. "I'm going to get some breakfast. Anyone want anything?"

"No you can't go anywhere!" Courtney whined. "We have to decide who's going to compete!"

"I'll literally be gone for like, ten minutes." Y/N said, exasperated about having another argument with Courtney. "I'm just going to get a muffin and then I'll be right back."

"Fine," Courtney huffed. "But you better be back in ten minutes."

Y/N rolled her eyes, walking off,  "Yeah, yeah, I'm going now,"

"Make sure you grab me some BBQ chips," Duncan yelled.

"Say please next time," Y/N laughed.

"What did I miss?" Y/N said, munching on a muffin, BBQ chips in other hand.

"Nothing at all," Bridgette replied, Sadie and Katie dancing in front of them. "We just now started to show our talents."

"Oh, okay," Y/N hummed, throwing the bag of chips in Duncan's lap.

"You're welcome, ass,"

"Oh yeah, of course," Duncan laughed.

Sadie and Katie's dance finished, the two of them panting.

Putting it blankly, it wasn't very good. Not that it was bad, it just wasn't enough to win them the talent competition.

"Well, um," Courtney struggled to find the words. "It's alright, just...we'll see what everyone else does first."

"Okay!" Sadie and Katie squealed.

"Who's next?" Courtney asked.

"I'll go!" Tyler volunteered. "I can do some wicked tricks with my yo-yo!"

"Whatever, show us what you can do,"

It was worse than Katie and Sadie's dance. Way, way worse. Tyler ended up with the yo-yo tied up all around him.

"Man, that is weak," Chris said, who was passing by.

Y/N facepalmed, "There is no way we're going to win this,"

"Why don't you audition?" Duncan asked.

"Um, 'cause I don't have a talent to compete with?" Y/N answered.

"You can't sing or dance? You're funny, you could tell some jokes,"

"Thanks, but I can't come up with jokes on the spot,"

"Didn't you say you can cook?"

"Yeah, but you don't do that at a talent show,"

"Can you guys keep it down?" Courtney glared.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah,"

Y/N really liked DJ's ribbon dance, she thought it was pretty and very elegant. Everyone else seemed to like it as wall, giving the way they were oohing and ahhing. Even Duncan seemed to like it, and he didn't like anything.

DJ's performance ended with him doing the splits, and well deserved applause.

"Fine, sign him up. Next?" Courtney said.

"Me!" Bridgette exclaimed. "I can stand on my hands for twenty minutes, watch!"

Bridgette got on her hands and did a handstand, beginning to walk around.

"Okay, that'd be cute if you were a monkey," Courtney criticized. "I just don't think it's quite what we're looking for. Next!"

Harold walked forward. He opened up his mouth, but before he could say anything, Courtney interrupted him. 

"Next!"

The acts that came after was doing Geoff doing a routine with his skateboard, and Courtney doing a solo with her violin. Both were very impressive.

"Well, I guess it's Geoff, DJ's ribbon thing, and your solo," Bridgette said to Courtney.

"I'm gonna be on TV, man!" Geoff exclaimed.

"You're already on TV, Geoff," Y/N chuckled.

"Oh yeah!" Geoff said, running up to the camera. "Hello out there dudes!"

Geoff was so funny sometimes. He reminded Y/N of Crush from the movie, Finding Nemo.

"Hey, wanna grab some lunch with me?" Duncan asked.

"Oh, I would but I already promised I'd hang with Bridgette for a little bit," Y/N said. "Sorry."

"No, it's cool," Duncan replied, trying to hide his disappointment. "I'll talk to you later,"

Y/N watched Duncan walk off, going over to talk to Geoff and DJ.

"What's up with him?" Bridgette asked.

"He asked me to hang out,"

"And you didn't say yes because?"

"'Cause me and you already had plans to hang out,"

"I wouldn't of been mad if you hung out with him instead,"

"Yeah, well," Y/N couldn't find the words. "Maybe I wanted to hang out with you instead."

"Awww," Bridgette giggled. "I'm flattered. You wanna get something to eat?"

"Yes please, I'm starving."

The Killer Bass were all over by the stage, DJ, Geoff, and Courtney were all practicing their acts. Y/N was currently debating if she would give herself another nose piercing.

Probably not though because she was a giant crybaby.

"So can you really stand on your hands for twenty minutes?" Geoff asked, fiddling with his skateboard.

"Want to bet that I can't?" Bridgette smirked, pulling out a chocolate bar.

"Oh you're on!"

"I'll take a piece of that action!" Harold said.

"Yeah, that's like virtually impossible," DJ said, in the middle of playing cards with Duncan.

"Auntie up," Bridgette said.

Everybody started betting up various amounts money, and lots of chocolate bars.

"You gonna bet too?" Tyler asked.

"Nah, I already know she can do it."

"Okay, twenty minutes, starting now," Bridgette got onto her hands and started walking.

Courtney, who was practicing her violin, gave Bridgette a weird look, but went back to her practicing.

While she was walking, Bridgette's leg got tangled up in a rope hanging from the top of the theater. Bridgette struggled to get her leg out of the rope.

Turns out, the rope was holding up one of the stage lights, and when Bridgette finally got her leg out, the light came crashing down....onto Courtney's head.

"Holy shit!" Y/N rushed over to Courtney on the floor, her violin in pieces beside her. "Are you okay?"

"My violin!" Courtney sobbed, ignoring Y/N. "It's ruined!"

"I'm gonna get bandages from the first aid station, stay here alright?" Y/N started to walk away.

Courtney continued to sob, grabbing the violin pieces.

"I'll come with you," Duncan said, catching up with her.

"That was cool what you did back there,"

"What do you mean?"

"Courtney's been a massive bitch towards you, and you helped her,"

"Oh, yeah I guess," Y/N fiddled with her skirt. "I don't know, I just felt like just because she's so rude to me doesn't mean that I have to be rude back all the time."

"That's really cool of you," Duncan smiled. "I don't think I could ever do something like that."

"Then that makes you an asshole,"

"Only to people I don't like,"

Y/N laughed, grabbing some bandages from the first aid kit. "You know people will think you're a horrible person, right?"

"I don't care what people think of me," he answered. "People already get the wrong idea of me anyway."

"And what idea is that?"

"That all I do is rob stores and hook up with random ass chicks,"

"Isn't that what you already do?"

Duncan laughed, a loud and deep laugh. "Y'know, you're starting to really grow on me, Y/N,"

"I don't know whether I should be scared or touched,"

"Shut up!"

Courtney sat on the stage, bandages on her head and broken violin pieces in her hand, Sadie and Katie on either side of her, looking at her with sympathy. Y/N was sitting in the grass, watching over Courtney, making sure she was okay and didn't do anything stupid.

Like she and Duncan discussed earlier, even though she strongly disliked Courtney, she didn't want to see her get hurt, she didn't want to see anyone get hurt. Even if Heather was in Courtney's situation, Y/N would of dropped everything to make she was okay and not badly hurt.

Y/N saw Bridgette walking towards Courtney. She knew that Bridgette felt bad, but she also knew that Courtney was never going to let Bridgette live this down.

"You! You killed my violin!" Courtney cried out.

"I didn't mean to!" Bridgette reasoned. "There must be something we can do." Bridgette grabbed Courtney's violin, trying to put it back together. Instead, she broke it into more pieces.

Courtney started sobbing, Katie and Sadie awkwardly trying to comfort her.

It was almost showtime. Both of the teams acts were behind the stage practicing. DJ with his ribbon routine, Trent with his guitar, Justin with his hot guy routine, Heather with her ballet routine, and Geoff with his skateboard. The Killer Bass were still trying to figure out who would take Courtney's spot.

"Okay, I know I'm not as good as you are with you are at the violin," Bridgette started, sharing some of her chips with Y/N. "But I can do this!"

Courtney looked like she was debating letting Bridgette take her place. Before she could say anything though, Heather interrupted, dressed in her ballet attire.

"Too bad about the accident," she said in a very sweet voice that was obviously fake. "I guess you're going to get your fifteen seconds of fame, huh?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Bridgette angrily asked.

"Oh, nothing!" Heather answered. "No one would sabotage their own teammate, unless they felt threatened."

"Hey, maybe that's how you Gophers operate, but the Killer Bass have more class than that!" Bridgette shouted. "We're a team!"

"Well, I guess you'll go down as a team as well," Heather smiled. "Oh, and easy on the chips. You don't want to sink that surfboard of yours do you?"

"Fuck you, Heather!" Y/N snarled. "Why don't you go brush that horse mane that you call hair? I think I'm starting to see some split ends."

"You have no right to talk to me like that!" Heather hissed.

"And you have no right to talk to Bridgette like that!"

"You know what, whatever," Heather said. "I have better things to do than talk to some loser like you."

"At least I don't have to scare everyone on my team to like me,"

"At least I don't have to fake not knowing how to swim to get attention from a guy,"

Bridgette threw her bag of chips, hitting Heather in this face.

Confessionals

"What a bunch of losers!" Heather said. "It's so easy it's almost not fun. Almost. Anyways, Y/N is so going to pay for what she said. I don't know how yet."

--

"I swear I hate her so fucking much!" Y/N seethed. "She must of not gotten hugged enough as a kid. Seriously why does on this everyone on this island have to be so rude."

The challenge was about to start, everyone besides the people doing acts were sitting down on the bleachers in front of the stage. Y/N was still fuming about what Heather said about her and Bridgette.

What did Heather know about Y/N not knowing how to swim? Absolutely nothing, she was just a bitch. She didn't like having all the attention on her when it came to almost drowning two times in one day. It's not her fault that Duncan grabbed her before she could fully sink. Wasn't her fault that Duncan agreed to help her when she jumped off that dumb cliff. It wasn't her fault that her and Duncan had spent almost every minute together since then.

"Yo, you okay?" said a voice next to her. Y/N whipped her head and saw that Duncan was standing next to her. "You look like you're gonna set someone on fire."

"I might, still thinking about it," she muttered. "Something that Heather said really pissed me off."

"What'd she say?"

"Doesn't matter,"

"You sure you don't wanna talk about it?"

"I'm fine, Duncan," she snapped.

Duncan stood there, and unreadable expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," Y/N sighed. "I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

"It's fine," he murmured. "I shouldn't have pushed you."

"You wanna sit?"

"Sure you're not gonna bite my head off?"

Y/N chuckled, "Only if you want me too,"

She didn't see it, but Duncan's face immediately turned a bright red, him having to cover his face with his face to cover his embarrassed and red face. 

Damn, ever since that last challenge a few days ago, Duncan could not stop thinking about Y/N, and it didn't help that they hung out all the time. He didn't know what, but something about her made Duncan's heart leap into his throat, especially when she said flirty stuff like that.

Was it her style? Maybe, her style was pretty cool.

Her humor? Probably, she always made Duncan laugh.

Her personality? Of course, her personality was like the PG-13 version of Duncan's

Her looks? Definitely, she was by far the prettiest girl on the island.

Did he like her? He didn't know, he definitely felt something for her, but then again he hadn't had it this bad for a girl in a long time.

"You alright there?" Y/N said, breaking him out of his thought. "You look really lost in thought. What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Duncan quickly said. "Just thinking about how the challenge is going to go."

"Sure," Y/N replied, not fully convinced. "The challenge is about to start anyway."

"Awesome,"

Chris came on stage, a giant smile on his face. "It's the TDI Challenge Extravaganza!" he exclaimed. "Welcome to the very first Camp Wawaknawka Talent Contest, where six campers will showcase their mad skills, and desperately try not to humiliate themselves."

 "First up for the Screaming Gophers is Justin!"

Y/N clapped her hands as Justin came onto stage. She didn't even know what he was supposed to be showcasing, but hot damn, he was gorgeous while doing it.

"Woah," she muttered, seeing him dump a bucket of water on himself.

"Bet I could do that," Duncan scoffed.

"Not as good as Justin though,"

"Fair point,"

"Okay, I don't know what that was, but damn, you've got some moves dude," Chris clapped. "First up for the Killer Bass, make some noise for the big guy, DJ!"

The Killer Bass clapped, Y/N whooping and hollering, "Go DJ!"

DJ's routine was going great at first, but at the end, his legs got caught in the ribbon, tripping him. DJ could tell he messed up, smiling weakly as the performance ended.

"Dainty, and yet masculine," Chris walked on stage. "Let's see what Grand Master Chef thinks."

Y/N supposed the audience could see the Chef-o-Meter, sitting in suspense as she waited for Chris to say something.

"Not much," Chris sad, DJ sadly walking off stage. "So, with two down and four acts to go, it's the Screaming Gophers screaming ahead. Next on deck, Trent! Take it away my bro!"

Trent walked on stage, a guitar in hand, and sat down on the stool on stage. "This one goes out to someone special here at camp,"

Y/N looked at Gwen, wiggling her eyebrows, in response Gwen rolled her eyes but had the slightest coat of blush on her face.

Trent began to sing and it was the most romantic thing ever. She thought that Gwen was so lucky to have a guy like that.

After the song was finished, Chris ran on stage. "Nice work!I'm liking your style dude, and so does Grand Master Chef!"

Trent started waving to everyone in the audience, irritating Chris. "All right quit hogging my light, buddy!" Chris said, pushing Trent into the wings. "Three down and three to go and the Killer Bass are totally losing so far. Let's hear it for Bridgette!"

"Bridgette?" Duncan asked.

"Yeah, I guess Courtney let her take her place," Y/N said.

"She's really going to stand on her hands for twenty minutes?"

"Guess so. Yay! Go Bridgette!"

Bridgette walked onto the stage on her hands. Y/N could already could tell something was wrong when she saw the uncomfortable look on her face. Confirming her theory, Bridgette started to burp very loudly.

"Holy shit, she's going to throw up," she muttered.

"What?" Duncan asked.

Right as he said that, Bridgette began to throw up everywhere. All over the floor and even on some of the campers.

"I'm hit!" Owen screamed, getting vomit on him.

Bridgette also got vomited on Leshawna, and Katie and Sadie, making Katie throw up on Sadie.

"Oh my god, I think I'm going to be sick!" Y/N said running away and throwing up into a bush.

"Are you okay?" Duncan called out, his voice coming from not far behind her.

"Go away Duncan!" she moaned, still puking her guts out. "I don't want you to see me throwing up what I had for dinner!"

"Yeah, because that's totally what every guy wants to see," Duncan rolled her eyes. "Do you want me to get you some water?"

"Yes please!" Y/N groaned.

"Okay, I'll meet you back at the theater,"

"Thank you Duncan!"

"Of course sweetheart,"

--

Confessionals

"Despite his tough guy act, Duncan is literally one of the sweetest people here," Y/N sighed. "Don't tell anyone I said that though, he'll kill me

--

After they sprayed down the stage and everyone who got puke on them cleaned themselves up, they started the talent show right back up.

"Thank you for getting me water," Y/N said, drinking from a water bottle.

"No problem," Duncan replied.

"Welcome back to the TDI Talent Extravaganza!" Chris announced from the stage. "Welcome back! Okay, so in a strange turn of events, Bridgette's chunk blowing fest registered two thumbs up by Grand Master Chef."

"Chef is so weird," Y/N muttered.

Duncan hummed in agreement.

"But it's not enough to pull ahead of the Screaming Gophers who hold the lead with Trent's love song," Chris said. "So without further delay, here she is for the leaders, Heather!"

Heather walked on stage, holding something behind her back, and sat on the stool that was previously using, a wicked grin on her face.

"Originally I was going to dance for you, but instead I want to celebrate team spirit, with a collaboration," Heather smirked, revealing a journal from behind her back. "So with words by Gwen, performance by me, enjoy."

Y/N eyes widened and immediately went to Gwen, seeing that her face was absolutely horrified.

Heather really was a bitch.

"'Okay, so I'm trying to ignore him, but he's just so cute,'" Heather read. "'If they had custom ordered a guy to be a distraction for me here, it would have been McHotty.'"

Oh yeah, Heather must have not had a normal childhood. Either that or her parents were just as rude as her.

"'We just totally connect! He's pretty much the only person I can relate to here, and I know it's a cliche, but I love guys who play guitar,'" Heather continued to read.

From the corner of her eye, Y/N saw that Gwen ran off, an embarrassed look on her face.

With no hesitation, Y/N got off the bleachers and followed her.

Y/N had to search for a few minutes, but eventually she found Gwen sitting underneath a tree, her head in her hands.

"Hey," Y/N gently said. "You okay?"

Gwen lifted her head up, tear stains all over her face. "Yeah, I'm fine," she muttered.

"Can I sit with you?" Y/N asked.

Gwen looked surprised but said, "Sure, I guess,"

Y/N sat down next to her in the grass, staying silent. The two of them sat like that for a few minutes, every now and then Y/N would hear Gwen sniffle. The challenge was probably almost over, but right now Y/N didn't care whether the Killer Bass won or lost.

All that mattered is that she helped Gwen feel better, even if it was only a little bit.

"I have an idea," Y/N said.

"What?" Gwen asked. 

"I have an idea how you can back at Heather,"

Gwen's eyes lit up. "How?"

"You remember when Harold said he brought his ant farm with him?" 

Y/N sat on the porch pf the Killer Bass cabin, staring up at the sky, while everyone else was sleeping. She really liked gazing up at the stars when she was thinking. It really helped calm her down.

Bridgette had told her that the Killer Bass had won the challenge thanks to Harold's beat boxing, and that Justin had been voted to go home.

"Hey, what are you doing out here?" a voice asked.

Y/N turned and saw Duncan coming out of his side of the cabin, in his pajamas.

"Hey," Y/N said. "Just out here thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"Nothing in particular,"

Duncan stayed silent, walking over and sitting next to Y/N. "Long day, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Y/N replied.

"How's Gwen?" he asked.

"A bit traumatized but she's fine," she said before smirking. "She'll be even better in a second."

"What do you mean?"

At that moment, Heather ran out the Screaming Gophers cabin, screaming her lungs out. There were red ants crawling all over her, Heather desperately trying to get them off.

Duncan laughed as he watched. "No way, you did that?"

"No, Gwen did that," Y/N laughed. "It was my idea."

"Good shit,"

sorry this chapter is shit

did NOT know how to write this

stay safe and drink lots of water <33

xoxo, Izzy

Taglist :)

@sc4rrc

[dozing-marshmallow]

BAKING WITH TOTAL DRAMA CHARACTERS SCENARIOS

(Photos aren’t mine by the way!)

BAKING WITH LINDSAY

(AS A BIRTHDAY SURPRISE)

You were surprised when she told you she didn’t have a mani-pedi appointment today. As if the day couldn’t be more convenient.

In Lindsay’s world, there was no such thing as baking unless it was done for her. And she was no expert in cooking either, which is why she was hesitant to bake.

“I don’t get it... Why am I putting four eggs in when five is my lucky number?”

Yep. As long as she was in the kitchen you could not let your guard down.

“What are you saying? What’s with all this flour? And this butter? Is that supposed to help me remember it?”

Alright, you both definitely didn’t have the same image in mind,“Remember what, Lindsay? We’re baking.”

“Ohh bake!” See? “I thought you meant pake, you know like password authenticated blah blah... Oh I’m soooo happy that wasn’t the case, you really aren’t complicated in that way, (Y/M)!”

She still messes your name up sometimes. But on the bright side, her motivation and inner child was found.

She loved pouring the sprinkles into the batter and tried her best to not break any when mixing.

You strictly put yourself in charge of dividing the batter evenly between each tin and swapping them around fifteen minutes within oven baking.

In the meantime, Lindsay managed to get started on the icing- not without constant confirmation that she was doing it right. Seems like she learnt a lot already.

All was looking well, until you noticed something out of place in the bowl. Feeling icky, you carefully extract it,”Lindsay... Is this your hair?”

“Oops...”

You fixed her hair into various styles until the timer went off.

She was gasping in amazement to how solid and fragrant they came out, asking if she could just eat them like that, and you don’t blame her.

Fast forward to icing the layer in between the combined cake and it as a whole, you were about done preparing the piping bag from a separate bowl of icing when she suddenly pleaded to do it.

Anxious, you handed it over to her. Your worry about any mistake she could make was short lived when remembering that even if it did come out slobbery, you know that her intentions were pure and it’s not like anyone else was going to eat the cake anyway. Until watching her actually pipe made you realise she was no amateur:

She was way better at it than you expected.

Seriously, her flowering and swirls were so high in symmetry, it was practically perfect!

“Duhhh! I do makeup! Hair and makeup! I’m like basically holding a curler, ooo I wonder if I could use this bag to style my hair instead? This has to be Victoria’s Secret to smelling so good!”

Logic never went well with Lindsay’s talents. And that was fine with you.

“Taa-da!” She cheers out,”Ohh it’s so pretty... I almost don’t wanna eat it!”

You congratulated Lindsay for her fruitful efforts and asked if she knew why you wanted to bake a cake with her specifically on that day.

“Because you like like me?” Her response after her time of self complimenting over the finish product was done.

“Yes, and also...” This is it.

You grabbed your 1 candle and 7 candle, placing them next to each other on top of the cake.

She watched as you lit them up in seconds, and without warning, the occasion hit her.

“Ohh right! Now I know why my Facebook’s blowing up like crazy today! It’s today!” As though the piped cursive writing of her name on top of the cake didn’t tell her too, but when she started clapping her hands together with that big smile on her shiny lips, it made up for it,”Yaaay! Seventy one today! Can’t believe how long it’s been since I first picked up a magazine. And was born, can’t forget about that, duh. Uh oh. Does that mean I’ll get frail and wrinkles now? Aww I don’t wanna give up tanning! Not yet!”

“You don’t need to worry about that for now, Lindsay, because it actually says seventeen. You’re seventeen today, and for another three hundred and sixty five days. Happy birthday, baby.” ⟡

BAKING WITH GWEN

(HELPING HER OUT)

“A pie, huh? Which flavour you thinking, apple, blueber-“

“Blackcurrant. We’ll be making a blackcurrant pie... that okay with you?”

When Gwen told you that her clique were hosting a get together party, you were almost as enthusiastic as she was.

But...

Because this was Gwen’s first time going to a party, she never thought she would have to worry about oven temperatures and accurate measurements up until now where the group agreed to whip up something individually that everyone could all share and eat.

That’s why she came to you with this dilemma! Her one and only.

Definitely not so she could simultaneously spend time with you.

You believed the thought process behind her choice of baking a blackcurrant pie was genius: the lattice crust on top could mimic a spiderweb and the colour behind itself was the real thing that appealed to the goth eye.

At the start, Gwen was nervous. She never did this kind of stuff before and didn’t want to screw it up, especially if her friends were going to eat it.

That’s why you suggested: I’ll make the crust, you can make the blackcurrant filling.

Oh how she loved crushing the blackcurrants,“Just imagining it’s Heather’s head right now.” She said with a smile.

Isn’t she so cute!

After pouring the sauce in the base, Gwen’s ambition really skyrocketed- you couldn’t deny how happy you felt when she insisted on making the perpendicular crust for the top, and that was just one example.

Even with all the red on her hands, she really was an artist.

“This is fun! It’s really like painting! Only with dough and fruit.”

Now, all the pie needed was no more than thirty minutes in the oven. To pass the time, you guys decided to do some drawing in her bedroom.

And it came out beautifully! The crust was golden brown and the blackcurrant juices were steaming with sweet flavour. Delicious... You can tell by Gwen’s eyes that she can’t wait to sink her teeth into a slice of it.

But her craving was quickly replaced by annoyance, upon realising how messy the countertop and floor was.

You cheekily remind her that she could’ve just bought something and passed it off as hers if she didn’t want to go through the trouble of cleaning everything up.

“Y-You think I would do something like that just so I wouldn’t need to clean? Jeez, I’m not that bad! I couldn’t handle the dreading guilt of doing that to them. Besides, I made it with you. That alone already tops off any other pie I could have bought instead.” <3

BAKING WITH ALEJANDRO

(IN CELEBRATION OF A SPANISH FESTIVITY)

“It would be an utmost honour, mi tesoro.”

In light of his Spanish roots, you were going to be baking “Pan de Cea” which was some kind of bread that’s traditionally made in favour of this summer festival called “festa de exaltación”.

You couldn’t wait! However, because you weren’t so familiar with bread baking, you were naturally amazed by Alejandro having known the entire recipe off by heart.

“No need to be ashamed. Unlike my love for you, this recipe will be very easy for you to understand.”

And what would be a day with Alejandro without his charming lines?

You loved and hated the warm effect they had on you, even more so when they escalated to a physical level.

He loves to stand right behind you, with his hand being on yours when you were mixing the yeast, the flour, the salt, the olive oil together... 

He’d pour the water so majestically into the bowl and took over when your arm got tired of stirring.

After the dough was hard, he claimed that you’d have to leave it in the bowl under plastic wrap for a day,“I know I’d feel safe if you stayed here all day with this dough, your beauty is the perfect thing to maintain a high temperature.”

Pretending you weren’t flustered, he laughed and invited you to get churros with him to make up for the spare time- it was only fitting.

Timeskip to the next day where the dough was hard, just how it needed to be on the parchment paper. Two minutes of watching Alejandro rub the dough in olive oil felt like two hours with the frequent looks he shoots at you.

Once he’s done, he pampers you by also literally massaging you during the hour needed for the bread to rise. Guess he thought you got jealous of it.

Jealous was a stretch, but you didn’t think you’d groan when it was time to take the loaf out. At least it smelt as pleasant as it looked.

As you were about take a piece, Alejandro stopped your hand with his to take it for you instead. This was nothing out of the ordinary, Alejandro just enjoyed having the liberty to feed you like that.

“Delicious... You did so well...”

“Don’t hold yourself at such low standards, mi amor! We did very well. Words alone aren’t enough to describe how proud I am of you. Feliz festa de exaltación.”

“Happy exaltation party!”

For the first time in your relationship with him, he was the one caught off guard,”Did I say it in English before?”

¡Era canela fina! ///

BAKING WITH CHRIS

(JUST WANTING TO SPEND TIME WITH HIM)

Initially, he would accuse the activity something only for “peasants” to do so you quickly reminded him that it was an insensitive thing to say and it wasn’t always about material things; sometimes it’s just about wanting to spend time with him outside Total Drama.

Once he’s gotten over his pride, he joins you, on the condition that you made cookies- since, according to him, it requires the less mental strength.

This probably won’t be surprising, but he made you do most of the work (at first). Claimed that his hands would be “soiled” if he touched the “filthy” ingredients for too long.

In the beginning, he was mean spirited as Chris enjoys to be i.e pouring a handful of flour down your clothes, forcing your face down the sink with the tap on, general shoving.

You wouldn’t have minded if you could’ve also had a laugh whenever you tried to recite the treatment.

Yeah he would be seriously insulted if you tried even doing something as little as rubbing a chocolate chip against his cheek.

It wasn’t until you threw an egg at his head out of anger and watched the yolk oil down his hair where he took accountability that he went overboard. Sure, he was laughing while he did.

But his hair was ruined for the rest of the baking process so you were too.

Afterwards, there was less “joking” and more compassion. Somehow now that he temporarily moved past his sadist ways, Chris began to involve himself a lot more in the whisking and licking your finger and vice versa of leftover batter.

The rolling of dough into a collection of spheres was arguably the best part.

“Look Chris! I made one that looks just like you!” You held up a cookie circle, obvious that those two lines of dough were purposely added to be on top to mimic his hair.

“Oh? What a coincidence! I made one that looks just like you too!” He declared, revealing a sticky slob of dough in his hand right after he said that.

“Oi...” You smile helplessly,”That’s not a nice thing to say to your spouse.”

But hey, if he didn’t tease at all, was that really Chris?

Post setting them on the tray and into the oven, Chris immediately rushes to the shower, and by the time he’s done, you were on your fifth cookie.

He whined at you for not waiting for him, but you’re quick to hand the one you’re on to him.

He finishes it, not without reminding you that you were the only exception to treating him like a “regular” person. Which in his books, was a deadly sin.

Needless to say, he’s impressed; despite him letting on so little, you’ve been with this man long enough to know otherwise. You could only smirk when he makes dismissive claims that they would’ve came out better if it was just him making them as he took spontaneous sips of his glass of milk.

By the end, he’s really glad you had this time together. He won’t stop thinking about it for a while. Heck, he’s more excited about baking with you again than you are.

Even if he won’t admit it.

Yet. :)

[ariel-seagull-wings]

@themousefromfantasyland @thealmightyemprex @the-blue-fairie @maedelin

"So, through various iterations and some wild costume changes, what makes Mystique Mystique? Where other X-Men villains exhibit more traditionally masculine bad guy traits; anger, arrogance, and from a power standpoint, they tended to be more strenght-focused or exerting control over stuff focused, Mystique exhibits a roster of historically feminine evils, and her entire run with the X-Men and their periphery, when she's not an outright villain, includes being a double agent, joining the X-Men, betraying the X-Men, and using her sexuality as a weapon A LOT. Being duplicitous as a feminine archetype is as old as the written word. Many western mithologies present feature feminine figures that present themselves as one thing, usually to lure men into a false sense of security, only to eventually spell their doom. The sirens lured sailors to their deaths. Delilah seduced (and then metaphorically castrated) Samson, and Mystique's power is to present herself as one thing while always having a secret ulterior motive. Female science-fiction characters written in the 1970s by male writers were an interesting bag, because there was a lot of anxiety about this whole "nascent women's lib" thing. Even her name "Mystique" harkens to Mystique (coma) the Feminine, a book which completely changed the way America Women saw themselves. So it's fitting that she first appears in Ms. Marvel's original series as she is the embodiment of the 70s Wonder Woman youve-come-a-long-way-baby attitude, and all of this background, to be honest, is what allows her to be interesting. Mystique is all of these "fear of female sexuality" archetypes packaged into one character, who still managed to be one of the most interesting and textured and nuanced of all the X-Men characters. And like most X-villains, she's only, you know, sometimes a villain. She joins the X-Men, then unjoins then, and tries to seduce her daughter's boyfriend so she can break then up and set up Rogue with someone else, you know, the usual. She eventually betrays the X-Men, of course, but only sort of. And then eventually gets killed. But don't worry she gets better. At one point she is even Professor X's indentured servant in her own limited series called Mystique written by Brian K Vaughn, which is kind of James Bond inspired and, yep, once again she's a Double Agent. So because this always needs to be pointed out, apparently, having a character's basis in mysoginist archetypes as old as time is not necessarily a bad thing as long as those archetypes don't go unexamined. But it is a thing.

(...)

If there is a character who that can handle an increasingly wide swath of character traits, it's Mystique.

And it's interesting to think that a somewhat minor character was in the running to eventually get her own Wolverine-style-probably-not-very good X-Men-spin-off.

(...)

But I think it also speaks to how there is more of a demand for complex femme fatales nowadays. That's why we've got sympathetic Maleficent, Elsa the misunderstood Ice Queen, the Wicked Witch was an animal lover the whole time, and Mystique, once such a confident hard ass, is now wrapped with conflict and insecurity. But I think it works either way. We don't need to necessarily choose. She is, after all, a shape-shifter!"

(LINDSAY ELLIS: LOOSE CANON - MYSTIQUE)

[euno11a]

Tattooed Hearts IV

Genre: No one to someone Tattoo artist! Jungkook X Reader

Summary: What happened to us? Why did we end up like this? It was only a one time thing. Now it’s ruined us both.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, mentions of hookups, insults, arguing, blood, mentions of period, insecurities, mentions of being kidnapped

Pt I • Pt II • Pt III • Pt V • Pt VI • Pt VII • Pt VIII

***

“Come on, slut, cum for daddy.” The rando spoke as he thrusted into you. You laid on the bed, not moving except from the occasional jump from his hard thrusts. Listen, you weren’t one for calling things stupid, lying or faking things. But the amount of times you’ve faked an orgasm tonight was hilarious. It’s been two hours of nothing but faking moans, whines, whimpers and orgasms. You couldn’t wait to leave, feeing stupid for even agreeing to have sex with this guy. Once he was finally done, you hurriedly put your clothes back on and gave him a quick smile before leaving. God, you really were a dumbass. The streets were dark, nothing but the street lights illuminating the road and sidewalk. Every sound you heard caused you to jump, it was never the safest option to walk home at 11 PM, fearing of being kidnapped or taken. You knew you weren’t gonna make it home without freaking out, so you walked into the nearest store, which just happened to be a flower shop. The scent of flowers and different herbs hit your senses like a truck. You walked around a little, curious about the beautiful blue flowers you saw.

“Blue hydrangeas, they symbolize remorse and regret.” You whipped your head around, seeing a pretty lady, thick curly hair with a green apron on, the worker. “You walked right to them, maybe it’s because something’s happened?” You paused, looking at the lady with slight shock in your eyes, “How did you…?”

“Honey, I work with flowers. Every flower in my shop has a story…just like you apparently.” You gave you a gap toothed smile, it was one of those rare smiles that filled your heart with joy. “Uhm, yeah…Sorry, I’ve had a rough night.” You smiled apologetically, turning to look at her. Eloise…what a fitting name, derived from ‘Helios’ meaning sun in Greek. “Well don’t keep me in the dark now! Tell me about it, hun.” She sat down behind a wooden table, making full bouquets, each one telling a story. You didn’t know why you felt the need to tell her what had happened, but she felt like someone to lean on. Catching her up about your night, Lindsay telling you to get dick, hooking up with some random guy, faking everything, even about Jungkook. You were now an open book to her, she chuckled, cutting off the bottom of the stems, “Sounds like your friend was just tryin’ to help, darling.” “I know, but I shouldn’t have listened. I’ve had experience like that in the past, I should’ve known.” You spoke quietly, looking down at the chrysanthemums on the table. “Listen to me, life is about experiences. Good or bad, they make you who you are. And you can’t let this man take control of your love life just because he hurt you. You gotta pull your pants up and find yourself a nice man that treats you right in life AND in bed.” She smiled up at you, giving you a knowing look. Blushing, you laughed, nodding your head. Maybe you should let Jungkook go. Yes, he’s hurt you in the past, but you can’t dwell on it. You sat with Eloise, watching her make bouquets, looking at the time you saw it was getting later than it already was. “I think I’m gonna head out…thank you, Ms Eloise.” You smiled, grabbing your bag and making your way to the door. “Honey, wait! Take this, I think it’ll help start your new story.” She smiled at you, handing you a bouquet. It was made up of hyacinths; representing young love, lilies and orchids; representing missing someone, daffodils; representing new beginnings and gardenias; representing secret love. You took the bouquet, smiling gratefully at her, waving and bidding your goodbyes, you left. *** The bouquet sat in a vase on your kitchen counter, standing full and tall, proudly almost. You stared at the luscious flowers, the bright colours illuminating your apartment. It seemed almost chaotic, the bouquet, so many colours, different flowers…it matched your life. There was so much chaos, yet it was so beautiful. You brushed it off, but the thought still in your mind as you got ready for bed. Brushing your teeth, your phone buzzed; it was Lindsay. Girl I trust🫶: Hey babes, I hope the hookup went well 😏 You: Yeah, I love faking everything for almost two hours Girl I trust🫶: OMG NOOO Girl I trust🫶: IM SO SORRY!!! You: Honestly, it’s okay, I met a nice lady that gave me flowers You: So something nice happened at least The both of you texted for a while, saying good night and heading to bed. Something about this whole night was itching away at you, almost as if you knew something was going to happen, but you didn’t know what. *** With two coffees in your hand, you walked down the street, it was a thank you gift to Ms Eloise for the flowers and listening to your currently fucked up life. You made it to the shop, it looked even brighter in the daylight, the flowers looking their absolute best just waiting to be put into someone else’s story. You tried to open the door, but it was hard when holding two coffees. “Let me get that,” You heard from behind you, someone opening the door for you. You turned to smile and say thank you, but remained stoic when you saw it was Jungkook. Don’t let him ruin your life. You gave him a tight lipped smile, “Thank you.” You walked into the shop, not saying anything else. The shop wasn’t busy, but you could see Ms Eloise behind that same wood table, making beautiful bouquets.

The little ring of the bell alerted her someone came in, she looked up and gave you her gap toothed smile. “Why, it’s lovely to see you again, darlin’!”  

“Hi, Ms Eloise.” You smiled back, walking further into the shop. “I got you this coffee as a gift for the flowers last night. I hope you like it!” 

She threw down her scissors, hands raising in happiness, “Ooo, honey, you don’t know how much this means to me. I absolutely love it, thank you.” She took the coffee carefully, sipping it and humming in delight. Ms Eloise looked past you, raising her brow, “Boy, I thought I told you to stop comin’ in here if you weren’t gonna get any flowers!” 

The deep chuckle, the one you knew all too well sounded through the shop. “Come on, Eloise, I was just helping this lovely lady open the door! Her hands were full and you know me, I love to help damsels in distress.” Jungkook walked further into the shop, leaning on the table beside you. 

“Oh honey, if you knew this one, you’d know she ain’t need any help from you.” She smirked at him, then looked to you, sipping her coffee.  

“Trust me, I know she doesn’t.” He looked over to you, glancing down your body, admiring the sundress you were wearing. 

You stood there stunned, “How do you know each other…?” It was almost like you’d been hit in the face with flowers.  

Ms Eloise laughs, grabbing a sunflower from the table in front of her. “He likes to pop in every once in a while to bug me, he’s like a pest that won’t get off my flowers! Only thing is, he never buys any.” She raised her eyebrow looking at Jungkook. 

He raised his hands up in defence, “I didn’t know there was a problem coming to say hello to friends!”  

“There ain’t, honey, but you could at least fill my pockets a little bit! The amount of times you walk in and never do anything is incredible!” Ms Eloise teased him, placing the flowers on brown wrapping paper.  

You couldn’t help but crack a smile at their playful banter, laughing a little as well. You talked with Ms Eloise for a little before deciding to head out, needing to get some errands done. You said goodbye and walked out of the shop, hearing your name being called. This time, you knew who it was and you turned around. “Y/N, where you going?” Jungkook asked as he walked to catch up with you. 

“Just running errands.” You spoke, your tone was no longer spiteful or hurt, but calm and more confident. 

He nodded, placing his hands in his pocket, staring at your eyes for a second too long. He looked to the street, seeing others walking around, shopping and talking. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for the other day. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with anything.” His voice was sincere, different from what you’ve heard from him before. 

You nodded, looking into his dark brown eyes, “Thank you, Jungkook…that’s very nice of you.” You both stood there, looking at each other, but not saying anything until you broke the silence. “I…I have some errands to get done, so I have to get going, but I’ll see you around.” 

“Alright, yeah. Have fun with your errands, Y/N.” He gave you a small smile, turning around to walk away, leaving you to walk your own way. 

How funny, you pictured the bouquet sitting on your counter, white tulips being the centre…forgiveness being the central part of your story.

Taglist: @talyaaas-blog @cassies-cookies

@junecat18

[tooti-fruiti]

THE BAD GUY [PROLOGUE]

You were so excited!

You were selected as a contestant on the Total Drama show!

You were driven to the island on a boat and you arrived you saw that four people were already there.

A nerdy girl, a goth girl, a tall party dude, and another tall dude.

You stepped off the boat and the host, Chris McClain, introduced.

"And this is (Y/n)!"

"Hey Chris! Are you sure we're on the right island?"

"I asked the same thing." One of the guys said.

You sighed and picked up your luggage.

"I'm DJ." The dude said.

You smiled and stood between him and the other dude. "I'm (Y/n)."

"Hey girl, I'm Geoff!" The party dude said.

You smiled and waved at him.

The goth girl just rolled her eyes.

"Everyone!" Chris said grabbing everyone's attention.

"This is Lindsay!"

She gestured towards a beautiful blonde girl who smiled at everyone.

"Hii!" She said, and then she looked at Chris.

"Okay, you look SO familiar!"

"I'm Chris McClain...the host, of the show." He said.

"Ohhh that's where I know you from!"

"Uh...yeah?" Chris said while you and DJ gave each other a look.

Behind her, another girl arrived.

She had long black hair, black eyes, and a mean glare.

She walked past Chris without saying a word to him.

"Heather..." He said.

The nerdy girl ran up to her and got in her face.

"Hi! Looks like we're your new friends for the next eight weeks!" She said, spitting into Heather's face and making her lean back.

Then you all heard Rock Music in the distance and you saw another boat approaching.

A dude with a green mohawk and piercings was driven up, he threw his bag onto the dock and glared at Chris.

He was kind of hot.

"Duncan! Dude!" Chris said, excitedly.

"I don't like...surprises." He said, holding up his fist.

He walked towards Chris and Chris gave him finger guns.

"Yeah, your parole officer warned me about that man. He also told me to give him a holler anytime and have you returned to juvie."

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Okay then."

He picked up his stuff and moved beside you, winking at you.

You blushed and turned away.

"I'm calling my parents!" Heather said. "You can NOT make me stay here."

Chris smiled at he held up a stack of papers.

Another boat approached and there was a guy wearing all red, water skiing behind it.

However, he lost his footing and flung himself over the dock and into the water, splashing Heather.

"UGH! MY SHOES!" She said as he climbed out of the water.

"Wicked Wipeout man!" Chris yelled.

Tyler smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

DJ and Geoff gave him a thumbs up back.

Chris started laughing at how miserable Heather looked, but he didn't realize there was already someone else behind him.

"Welcome to camp, Harold." Chris said.

He started looking around, confused.

"What's he looking at?" The nerdy girl asked.

"So you mean this show is at a gross summer camp and not on some big stage or something?" He asked, sounding like Napoleon Dynamite.

"You got it." Chris said.

"Yes! That is so much more favorable to my skills!" Harold said, as he picked up his stuff and walked away.

Chris winced as Harold approached everyone.

You turned away from Harold as Duncan flipped him off.

"The next contestant is Trent!" Chris said.

"Hey, good to meet you man. I saw you on that figure skating show, nice work." He said.

Chris gave him a hand shake and smiled. "Thanks man, I knew I rocked that show!"

"I saw that!" The nerdy girl said. "One of the guys dropped his partner on her head, so they got immunity that week."

"Lucky!" Harold said. "I hope I get dropped on my head."

"Me too!" Lindsay said as you rolled your eyes.

"So, this is it?" Trent asked.

Heather started drying her hair and Harold started picking his nose, making a few people move away from him.

"...alrighty then." He said as he moved to stand beside the goth girl.

Another girl walked onto the dock carrying a giant surfboard.

"Hey, what's up?" She said.

"Alright! Our surfer chick, Bridgette, is here!"

Duncan scoffed. "Nice board, this ain't Malibu, honey."

"I thought we were going to be on a beach?"

"We are!" Chris said, gesturing to the trash covered beach.

Bridgette sighed. "Great."

"Alright! That's our first 12-" Christ stopped when Bridgette accidentally smacked him with her board when she reached down to grab her suitcase.

"Ow! Damn it! That hurt!"

"Hey guys." She said as she stood beside Geoff.

"Heyyy, I'm Geoff!" He said.

"What's up?"

"Hi! I'm Beth!" The nerdy girl said.

"Hey!"

"Okay, we've all met surfer girl, can we got on with show please?" Heather complained.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed." You smirked.

"Drop dead." She said.

You rolled your eyes as Duncan chuckled quietly.

"Our next camper..." Chris said, rubbing his head. "...is Noah."

"You got my memo about my life threatening allergies?"

"I'm sure someone did!" Chris smiled.

"Good. Is this where we're staying?

"No, it's your mom's house." Duncan said sarcastically.

"Whatever. Cute piercings." Noah said.

"You want one?" Duncan asked, grabbing a needle from his pocket.

"No, no thanks."

After Noah, another girl arrived to the island.

"Wassup y'all! Leshawna's in the house!"

Harold gasped when she stepped onto the dock.

"Yo baby! Ay how you doin'? How's it going?" She said giving Chris a high five.

"Feel free to quit now and save yourselves the trouble cause, I came to win!"

She walked up to you and DJ.

"Yo girl, you got some style going on!"

You smiled and crossed your arms. "So do you."

Then she smiled at DJ and gave him a high five. "Oh what's up my brother? Gimme some sugar baby!"

"I've never seen a girl like you in real life before." Harold said from behind her.

"Excuse me?" She asked.

"You're real big. And loud."

"What the FUCK did you say to me?!" She yelled. "Oh no you didn't! I'll show you big stringbean!"

She was about to jump and attack Harold, but Bridgette and DJ rushed to stop her.

"Alright campers, settle down!" Chris said.

Leshawna adjusted her shirt and glared at Harold, who gave her a little smile.

Two girls appeared together, matching each other in almost every way.

"Ladies! Katie, Sadie, welcome to your new home for the next eight weeks!"

Katie gasped. "Oh my gosh, Sadie look! It's a summer camp!"

"Okay, I always wanted to go to summer camp!"

They both squealed and ran to the other end of the dock.

After they did, another guy came onto the dock.

"Ezekiel! What's up man?"

Ezekiel looked up and pointed at the sky.

"I think I see a bird." He said, making some people giggle.

Chris put his hand on his shoulder and gave him a little pep talk, then shoved him onto the dock.

"That's just...wow." The goth girl said.

Another boy came on after she said that.

"Cody!" Chris said. "The code-ster! The code-meister!"

He gave Cody a high five as he walked towards everyone confidently.

"Dude, psyched to be here man. I see the ladies have already arrived! Alright!"

He was about to say something to Leshawna but she stopped him due to what happened with Harold.

Next, a muscular girl came onto the dock and she completely blew off Chris.

"Eva. Nice. Glad you could make it!"

She dropped her bag on Cody's foot and he held it in pain.

"Ow! What's in there?! Dumbells?!"

"Yes." Eva replied dryly.

"She's all yours man." Duncan said to DJ.

A loud cheer came from the other end of the docks and you all saw a big dude cheering.

"Chris! What's happening?!" He yelled as he laughed. "This is awesome! Woooohooo!"

"Owen! Welcome!" Chris said as Owen picked him up into a bone crushing bear hug.

"Awesome to be here man! Yeah! Man, this is just so..."

"Awesome?" The goth girl asked.

"Yes! Awesome! Wooooooooo! Are you gonna be on my team?" He asked her.

"Oh I sure hope so." She said sarcastically.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-"

"Are you about finished?" Chris asked, annoyed.

Owen put him down and smiled. "Sorry dude, I'm just so psyched!"

"Cool." Chris said. "And here comes Courtney."

A girl with short brown hair amwas driven up to the dock and Chris helped her down as she thanked him.

"Hi! You must be the other contestants, it's really nice to meet you all!" She said.

Owen started shaking her hand quickly. "Hi! I'm Owen!"

"Nice to meet you O...wow...." She said, looking at something in the distance.

In the distance was a muscular guy with long black hair and a chiseled face.

Most of the girls swooned when they saw him.

"This, is Justin." Chris said as he walked onto the dock.

"Welcome to Total Drama Island." He said as he gave Justin a fistbump.

"Thanks Chris, this is great."

"Just so you know, we picked up based entirely on your looks!"

"I can live with that." He shrugged and walked to the other end of the dock.

"I like your pants!" Owen said.

"Thanks man."

"Cause they look like they're all worn out! Did you buy them like that?"

"No just, had them for a while."

"Oh! Cool!" Owen said before he hit his forehead.

You and Duncan gave each other a look at his behavior.

"Hey everyone! It's Izzy!" Chris said.

"Hi Chris! Hi! Hi! H-WOAH!" She said as he accidentally ran off the ship and hit her chin on the deck.

"Oooh that was bad." Tyler said as he giggled.

"Guys! She could be seriously hurt!" Courtney said, as she helped Izzy out of the water.

Izzy started shaking like a dog which confused the shit out of Courtney.

"That felt...so.. GOOD! Except for hitting my chin. This is summer camp? That is so cool! Do you have paper mache here? Are we having lunch soon?!"

"That! Is a good call!" Owen said.

"Hold your horses Izzy." Chris said. "We still have one more camper to introduce!"

One last camper got onto the deck and your heart dropped when you saw them.

It was your ex.

"This is-" Chris started.

"(Y/n)?" They asked and you averted your eyes.

"Oh, do you two know each other?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, we dated for a few years."

"Oooh! How awesome is this?! We have an ex couple on the island! The drama is starting off great!" Chris said.

"So tell me, why did you break up?"

"They cheated." You said and most of the other campers glared at them.

"Oh come on babe, I was drunk! I wasn't-"

"Anyway!" Chris said cutting them off. "This is (Ex/n). Time for pictures! Move to the other end of the dock!"

As Chris got up somewhere high to take the picture, you made sure (Ex/n) stayed away from you.

"Okay!" Chris said. "One, Two, Thr- Oops, I'm holding it backwards!"

"Okay, hold that pose! One, two- Oh wait, forgot the lens cap!"

"Come on man, my face is starting to freeze." Leshawna complained.

"Got it! Okay! Everyone say: 'Wawanakwa!'"

You all said what he told you too, but before the picture could be taken, the dock broke under the weight and you all ended up in the water.

"Okay campers, dry off and meet me at the campfire pit in ten!"

(Hope you enjoyed. Stay tuned for more and have a good day)

Chapter One->

[hoffstrap-yuri]

Bad Idea, Right?

ao3 // masterlist

*Summary: Peter Strahm goes over to Det. Hoffman's house to get more information about the Jigsaw case. Should be simple enough, right?

*Rating: +18 for explicit mature content

*Content/Tags: Feeding Kink, PWP, Feedee Peter Strahm, Feeder Mark Hoffman

*Status: Oneshot/Complete

Strahm used his free hand to massage his temples. He blinked a couple of times to wet his eyes once more and got out of his car. He grabbed his bag and slung his suit jacket over his forearm before closing the door. He walked over to the door before him, hesitating to turn the knob before getting over his trepidation.

“You know.” A man said, stepping out of the kitchen and leaned against the wall frame. He crossed his arms in front of him and raised an eyebrow, “Most guests knock before entering someone’s house.”

“Sorry. Thought I could come in.” The other man, slightly taller, replied.

“Have a seat in here, Agent Strahm.” He made a gesture towards the kitchen table and Strahm walked over to the little set-up. At most the table was only ever meant to seat two people, but it was clear that the vinyl on one chair was a little more worn than the other. Strahm could see why a man who lived alone would choose to sit there. Clear sight line to the entryway. If he craned his head up just so, then he could see into the lot behind the house. The other seat didn’t offer nearly this level of security and while he was the guest in the Detective’s home, he sat at the less used seat. Something was cooking on the stove behind Strahm that reminded Strahm of home. Sitting in his nonna’s kitchen on Sunday’s after church, trying to get a sample of the spaghetti sauce before she caught him and hit the back of his hand with a wooden spoon. He smiled to himself as the other man put the lid back on whatever it was he was cooking, bolognese if Strahm remembered correctly.

“You didn’t have to cook for me.” Strahm cleared his throat and adjusted his tie.

“I know, but I wanted to. You look like you haven’t had a decent meal in months, before you even came here.” Hoffman sat down in his preferred seat

“What makes you think I haven’t had a good meal?” Strahm was borderline offended, not because he was wrong but because of how easy the other man seemed to read him.

“For a man your age you’re rather thin. Though you have some bulk in your center you’re not big by any means.” Hoffman leaned into the table, putting an elbow up as he shared a gaze with Agent Strahm. There seemed to be an implication behind his movements that Hoffman meant that Strahm wasn’t as big as he was. He seemed to answer Strahm’s puzzled look with a slight smirk that exuded confidence. Almost… flirtatious? “Probably from a couple years of fast food.”

“Truly your detective powers of perception are impeccable.” Strahm remarked, rather dryly

“Then I’m right? That’s all that matters to me.”

“That’s not…” Strahm started but shook his head, “Anyway, I came here to talk about the case.”

“Right.” Hoffman crossed his legs under the table and Strahm pulled the file from his bag. He went to pin up the details onto the wall as a force of habit, but then realized that he wasn’t in his little office with a pin board. After this gaff, he spread the files across the table hoping that Hoffman didn’t notice him. “Here’s what we know so far.”

“By we you mean…” Hoffman’s thought trailed off only for Strahm to answer

“Lindsay and I.”

“Of course.”

“And we were hoping if there was any supplemental information you could provide us about Agent Kerry or the jigsaw murders at all, now would be a good time…”

“I do actually.” Hoffman got up from the table and brought his files over, leaving them in a nice stack to the side of Strahm’s flurry of papers. “This one looks the most promising. Similar modus operandi, similar tape…”

“Awesome.” Strahm took the file from Hoffman’s hands and thumbed through the papers. “And you were sure this murder was committed by Amanda Young and not John Kramer?”

“That’s what the evidence suggests.”

“Then it’s not confirmed?”

“It’s still an open case, agent.” Hoffman replied

“Okay.” Strahm took a deep breath and looked closer over another file Hoffman brought to him

“Dinner’s ready as well.” Hoffman commented, towering over Strahm and leaning against the chair

“Okay.” Strahm replied absentmindedly as Hoffman dished himself up a plate. Hoffman looked the FBI agent up and down while the agent’s eyes remained glued to the papers before him. Hoffman had finished eating and cleaned up his plate before Strahm moved on to the next case. He walked over to the table and cleaned up Strahm’s pile, leaving out what Strahm had pointed out early as the most pertinent information.

“You know, agent. It’s really rude of you to come over and not eat anything after your host has made something for you.”

Strahm knew the second the words slipped out that that was the beginning of the end for him, “I mean I didn’t ask you to make anything for me.” He could hear his grandmother shouting at him from the beyond. Hoffman gave him a look that Strahm tried to dismiss at the time, but knew he’d more than upset the other man.

“The food’s getting cold.” Hoffman replied, pulling Strahm close by his necktie. “Now I would suggest, you start eating.”

“Or what?” Strahm scoffed

“I’ll just feed you myself.”

“I’m not a toddler, I can feed myself just fine, thank you.” Strahm cleaned up his space on the table fully and went over to the stove. He picked up the plate that Hoffman had left next to the pot of sauce then grabbed a tongs worth of noodles before carefully ladling on the sauce. The texture was thinner than the sauce his grandmother made, but it still had a familiar smell to it. He only covered maybe half the plate and brought his meal back to the table. “There, can we talk about the case now?”

“At least tell me whether it’s to your liking, Agent.” Hoffman rested his head on his knuckles and waited for Strahm to take a bite. Strahm rolled his eyes and brought a forkful up to his mouth. He paused for a second before eventually taking a bite.

“Could use a couple seconds in the microwave.” Strahm muttered under his breath. Hoffman took the plate from out under him and popped it into his microwave. Anger was rising in Strahm’s voice as he told Hoffman, “You know, I am a grown man. I could’ve done it myself, Detective.”

“And have you take 20 minutes to do that? Fat chance.” Hoffman crossed his arms as he waited for the familiar ding of the appliance. He brought the plate back over to the agent and sat across from him once more. “Is that better?”

“Yeah.” Strahm replied quickly in between a bite. He wanted to mouth off a bit more, something about Hoffman’s people-pleasing nature that drove Strahm up the wall… but the food was pretty damn good. Hoffman looked over his shoulder back at the range before getting up once more and grabbing the plate of garlic bread to ring back to the table.

“Eat.” Hoffman said. There was no intonation change that made it sound like a question, but it definitely came off as a command. Strahm scowled before taking a piece of bread off the plate and shoving it into his mouth. He chewed at it while keeping his face even-tempered but enjoyed the garlic flavor. He looked over the piece with fondness, trying to remember the last time he had good quality garlic bread and not just as a side to some crappy Italian him and Lindsey would pick-up during their investigations. Hoffman’s hand got in Strahm’s face, snapping his attention back to the meal at hand. “At this rate you’ll be finished with dinner by bedtime.”

“So?” Strahm scoffed

“Hurry it up.” Hoffman got up from his chair, shoved a piece of garlic bread into Strahm’s mouth and placed his hand underneath Strahm’s jaw to guide the other man’s pace. Strahm tried to free himself from Hoffman’s grasp but his mouth was clamped in between Hoffman’s thumb and forefinger. Hoffman’s gaze lied square on Strahm’s face. A heavy sigh left Strahm’s nostrils after he finished the bread. Without hesitation, Hoffman brought a giant forkful of the spaghetti up to Strahm’s lips and nudged it into his mouth. “That’s a good boy.” Strahm’s whole body went weak for a second at those words. Something about Hoffman’s low voice saying that to him made him want to eat. Would Hoffman’s praise continue in that sultry voice if he did eat more? Before he could finish his bite another fork was brought up to Strahm’s mouth. His lips didn’t budge for a second, but after a growl let slip from Hoffman’s throat, Strahm slurped up the noodles. “You can go faster.”

“No, I really can’t.” Strahm rolled his eyes

“You can, and you will.” Hoffman replied back before shoving more pasta into Strahm’s mouth. “See that plate’s gone. That wasn’t hard.”

“You say that like I’m going to eat more.” Strahm groaned a little bit at the thought of being stuffed to the brim. Hoffman simply took his plate and refilled it with the same pasta to sauce ratio that Strahm had previously. Strahm looked up at him with incredulous eyes, but ate as the fork came back up to his mouth.

“And you still eat anyway.” Hoffman hummed as Strahm worked himself back up into a decent pace once more and ate the second plate of pasta. He let a heavy sigh escape from his lips and leaned back in his seat before quietly muttering,

“No more…”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” Hoffman feigned ignorance. He heard the other man just fine, and Strahm knew that but he had to repeat himself.

“I’m too full.” Strahm huffed

“Fine.” Hoffman replied before snaking a hand over Strahm’s shoulder and across his chest. Strahm made a soft grunt as the hand kept moving further south, resting on Strahm’s distended stomach

“What are you…” Strahm looked at Hoffman’s hand before moaning as his finger tips sunk slowly into the his overstuffed gut. His moan was interrupted by a slight burp before his hand covered his mouth. Strahm felt himself grow red in the face as Hoffman’s other hand worked in tandem to rub the bulge that spilled over his belt.

“How’s that?” Hoffman asked, leaning against Strahm’s ear as his fingers dug deeper. Rather than answer with words, another groan escaped from his mouth. “You’re never like this at work, Peter. Maybe I could get something done if I just threw some food in front of you and fawned over how well behaved you are.”

“Fat fucking…” Strahm started to say, getting cut off by some noise his body decided to release at that moment, “Fat fucking chance.”

“What would your partner think of you? Seeing you make a pig of yourself at your desk. She’d probably notice the way I’d slip a dozen donuts in front of you and their disappearance before lunch…” Hoffman whispered the copiously sweet nothings into Strahm’s ear as a hand slipped its way between Strahm’s legs. “You’ve been fighting it up until this point. Trying to eat as little as you can while your partner’s around so you don’t have to think about your lack of shame when it comes to sucking down food. Don’t fight it when I’m around. Give into me, Agent Strahm.”

Strahm could only respond with his teeth pressing into his lips, threatening to tear the skin open from the pressure. Hoffman’s lips were dangerously close to Strahm’s cheek, he wanted that connection so badly. Hoffman knew this, and so he kept it from Strahm as his hands worked the belt off Strahm’s waist. Next came the fly of Strahm’s pants which Hoffman unzipped, carefully palming at the erection that was hiding under Strahm’s clothes. Hoffman gave the other man a couple of quick pumps with his hand before fully committing to jerking him off. Strahm’s dick sat squarely in Hoffman’s hand for a moment before he focused on giving the Agent long strokes along the length. Strahm grunted and his foot jerked up, hitting one of the legs of the table. Hoffman could only make a small ‘tisk’ noise as Strahm tried to keep himself composed while the other man got him off. Hoffman’s free hand trailed up Strahm’s shirt before resting just below Strahm’s pecs. A breath of hot air rolled along Strahm’s neck and he jolted as he came onto the underside of Hoffman’s dining room table. As he felt himself coming down from his stuffed high, he heard Hoffman whisper over his head some iteration of “Good boy” over and over. He zipped himself back up, careful not to get the bottom of his work shirt caught in the fly. However, just before he could relax, Hoffman pulled the chair out from under Strahm and sent the other man falling to the floor. He cursed loudly and looked up at Hoffman.

“You made a mess. Now clean it.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do? Lick it off like I’m some kind of dog?”

“No.” Hoffman shook his head, “Just some pathetic pig.” Hoffman looked at the semen left on his thumb, and brought it up to his lips before letting the appendage dip fully into his mouth. After that was clear, he made a show of licking the cum left on his palm off from the center up. Strahm leaned forward a bit before he felt the press of Hoffman’s foot on his back, forcing him back down onto all fours. Strahm growled in response but got up to the table and dipped his tongue into his mess. He gagged a little bit, wondering how Hoffman had managed to make the substance look so alluring as he swallowed it off his hand. He felt Hoffman’s big toe digging deeper into his back as he refused to lick the cum off, so he slowly began to lap at it. “You really don’t have any shame do you, Agent?”

“Shut up.” He turned his head back to argue, only to realize that there was no winning in this scenario. He turned back around and continued licking up his semen for Hoffman’s pleasure. When most of the white was gone, and could easily be cleaned up with a rag, Hoffman helped Strahm back onto the chair. His hands gravitated back to Strahm’s stomach and finally gave Strahm the ever elusive peck on the cheek he’d been expecting during their whole liaison. Strahm’s hands, which had been oddly still up until this point, forced Hoffman’s lips over to meet his and they kissed for a moment. Hoffman’s hands clutched at the collar of Strahm’s shirt and pulled him up onto his feet before guiding Strahm up against a wall. His shoulder blade hit the drywall, definitely leaving a mark. Hoffman growled into their kiss before pulling himself off. “Gave up already, fucker?”

“No. No. Just you’ve probably worked off all those calories I packed into you.” Hoffman laughed lowly, his lips meeting with Strahm’s neck. “Think you can fit in some dessert?” Strahm mulled the offer over for a second before shaking his head. “Shame. I make a damn good lobster tail.” He pulled Strahm by the collar of his shirt and brought him to his bedroom. Maybe one more round and Strahm would have the room for something more.

[mfred]

August Reading Wrap-up

August was a hard month. I only read 13 books. Perhaps surprisingly, when things get hard and I feel very stressed, I read less. I can't focus or concentrate enough to get into a book. Reading is a source of joy and comfort for me, so my inability to lose myself in a fictional world really makes things worse.

But on to the books:

I started the month strong with Ilona Andrew's Sanctuary (4 stars). It was a lot of fun going back to the Kate Daniels world, this time through the character of Roman, the dark god Chernobog's high priest. Then I rode that high for a little bit by re-reading a couple of Andrew's Innkeeper's Chronicles books. I only re-read a couple and not the whole series because at their worst, Andrews can get really expository and explainy, and I find them at their worst in those books.

On the romance front, I also did some re-reading of Megan O'Brien's The Ride series, which is just mid motorcycle romance. It's kinda where my brain was at-- mediocre, mindless entertainment. I also fit in S. Cole's The Fates We Tame, which should have been more emotionally impactful than it was (4 stars). And I trudged through Blaze by Lynn Raye Harris, which ended up being pretty slow and boring (3 stars).

And then I picked up the Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley and really shocked myself by not liking it that much. On the surface, it had everything I should have loved: time travel, intrigue, romance! But I found it to be more lit fic than speculative fiction, which is not my bag. The twists at the end weren't suprising and twisty, just kind of flat. I ended up giving it 4 stars for technical merit, but feelings-wise, it was more of a 3 star book.

I thought I finished off the month with a DNF, Lindsay King-Miller's The Z Word. I read the first few chapters, felt like I knew exactly how the book would end, and then decided to skip to the end to see if I was right. And I was. And I didn't like it.

But at the last moment (literally the night of August 31st) I said, fuck it, I'm reading P. Djèlí Clark's Ring Shout, which has languished on my TBR for years. Years! AND IT WAS AMAZING. 5 full stars! Horror, humor, great characterization, thrilling plot! It had everything! I laughed and cried and was grossed out in equal measure.

It's so awesome, what reading a good book can do.

[natalynsie]

5 Times Alejandro Flustered Tyler and 1 Time Lindsay Noticed Why (Aletyler Oneshot)

“Go Tyler! Go Tyler!” Lindsay screamed across the baseball field.

Tyler smiled at Lindsay. Lindsay was known for showing her friends support all the time. Even if it was just a friendly game between two teams from the same school during summer. Lightning had bet the juniors that the sophomores could beat them at baseball, and Tyler never turned down a challenge.

So, Tyler got everyone who would come roped in for the game. They didn’t have enough people for a proper team, but a game was a game. Tyler managed to round up Geoff, Duncan, Cody, Owen, and last but not least, Alejandro. Lightning managed to get Scott, Brick, Jo, Mike, and B. At the beginning of the game, he said something about it being “guys versus guys”. Tyler was pretty sure he still didn’t know that Jo was a girl.

There was only one person watching the game, and that was Lindsay. No one else really cared enough about some bet between Tyler and Lightning of all people. Yet, for some reason, Lindsay was still out cheering out on the sidelines.

“Tyler!” Lindsay yelled. Not cheered. Yelled.

Tyler turned towards the field.

A baseball was soaring at him.

Pow!

“Ugh,” Tyler groaned, falling back on the field. His head hit the grass, just like how the ball hit his face.

“Tyler!” Lindsay shrieked, horrified. She ran from the sidelines to Tyler, crouching next to him.

“Amigo.” Alejandro got on his knees next to Tyler. “Can you hear me?”

“Huh?” Tyler asked, in a daze. He looked side to side with squinted eyes, seeing two Alejandro’s. He had double vision. Not like he was a stranger to that.

Alejandro took Tyler’s hand, gently pulling him into a sitting position. “Are you alright?”

Tyler blinked a few times, and smiled. “Yeah, I’m okay. This is all grood! Happens all the slime.”

Alejandro chuckled. “Uhh, Tyler, I think you need to sit on the side with Lindsay for a little bit.”

“What?” Tyler asked. “No! You’re really fine! Wait, I mean-”

Alejandro gave Tyler a pat on the shoulder. “You need a break. I’m sure Mike wouldn’t mind sitting out to even out the teams.

“Dang,” Tyler sighed. Lindsay helped Tyler up, and he went to sit on the ground with her.

She smiled. “You said ‘slime’ instead of ‘time’.”

“Aw man, I did?” He folded his arms. “That’s embarrassing.”

“You also said ‘grood’.”

“Ugh…”

~~~

“I didn’t even see that,” Alejandro mumbled. “Good move.”

“Hah, well, you know,” Tyler responded. “I mean, how am I supposed to win sports without a sick sense of strategy? Also, my gym teacher accidentally put me on the chess team for all of ninth grade, so I learned to crush it.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Duncan muttered.

“I should’ve been there,” Alejandro stated. “Maybe then I could kick your butt even harder than I am right now.”

Alejandro moved his knight to Tyler’s king, knocking it over.

“Checkmate.”

“Woah! That came out of nowhere!” Tyler exclaimed. “You’re really good.”

“Thank you, amigo,” Alejandro smirked and brought a hand to Tyler’s face. “Although, you did put up quite the fight.”

Duncan gave Lindsay a look with one eyebrow raised. She returned it with a smile.

Tyler shot back from Alejandro. “You’re also really good. Obviously,” He squeaked. “You beat me.” He chuckled.

“I did.”

~~~

“Thank you again for holding all of our stuff.” Alejandro slipped his three bags of clothes from individual stores onto Tyler’s arm. “We appreciate it.”

“Yeah!” Lindsay smiled. She dropped her bags into Tyler’s arms, and he stumbled backwards. She most certainly had more bags than Alejandro had.

“Mhm,” Justin acknowledged that they were giving thanks and hung a bag on each of Tyler’s right fingers. Tyler remained upright. He just wished his upper body strength as a whole was as good as his finger strength. With that, Justin walked into the changing room.

“Well, you know,” Tyler grunted. “You’re spending the money so I gotta carry the bags.”

“It’s our money, you’re still doing us a favor.”

“You’re doing a favor by looking pretty and stuff.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty? Why thank you.”

Tyler’s face turned slightly pink. “Yeah, uh, well I kind of said that on accident but like, you are pretty I just meant that-”

“I know what you meant, amigo.” Alejandro gave Tyler a smile. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Tyler managed to vocalize.

“Well. I’m going to try this shirt on.” Alejandro walked into a nearby changing room.

“Aw, you think he’s pretty,” Lindsay grinned. “So nice of you to compliment him.”

“You look pretty too,” Tyler smiled.

“Yay! I know I do, but thanks!”

~~~

“You gonna come in, Linds?” Tyler asked.

“No, I need to work on my tan. And my hair is straightened,” Lindsay replied.

“Aw man. But it’s beach day!”

“Come on, amigo.” Alejandro placed a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. Tyler’s eyes dashed to look at it. “Let’s just go swim. Bridgette and Geoff are waiting.”

“Yeah! Let’s go. Um,” He peeled his eyes from his shoulder, and to Alejandro’s eyes. “Yeah.”

Alejandro and Tyler stood still, staring at each other.

“Uhh, are you guys okay?” Lindsay asked.

“Yes!” Alejandro tore his hand from Tyler’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Tyler nodded and turned, walking towards the beach.

“Bye guys,” Lindsay said, slightly confused.

“Bye!” Tyler waved his hand backwards.

~~~

Heather snorted. “What is with your hair?”

Alejandro looked up, as if he could actually see his own hair. “What’s wrong with it?”

“You don’t even have enough hair to do a ponytail so you only did half of it. You look ridiculous, Alejandro.”

“Hey! It’s a style,” Tyler defended. “It’s a half-up-half-down.” He turned to Lindsay. “Right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it works that well with his hair type-”

“I think he looks cute!” Tyler yelled, a little too loudly.

Alejandro stood still.

Lindsay stood still.

Heather gave Tyler an eyebrow raise. “You mean the hairstyle looks good?”

“Yeah!” He exclaimed, now a little nervous as he took in his friends’ stares.

Alejandro stood up straight. “Yeah, Heather. Tyler likes it. It’s clearly just a you problem.”

“Well, I-” Lindsay butted in.

“Come on Tyler, we have a game to play.”

The two of them walked off, leaving Heather and Lindsay alone.

“God, what an idiot,” Heather insulted.

“Don’t talk about Tyler like that!”

“Not Tyler,” Heather rolled her eyes, “Alejandro.”

“What?”

“He’s so stupid for not noticing.”

“Noticing what?”

“You are too.”

“What?”

~~~

“And guess what?” Lindsay asked, through mouthfuls of popcorn. “She said my nail polish was cheap! Cheap! I never spare a dime when it comes to accessorizing, she knows that.”

“You should cut her off,” Alejandro advised.

“I guess,” Lindsay said. “But seriously!” She shot her hands in the air, hitting Tyler straight in the nose.

Alejandro fell backwards and off of the footrest he had been sitting on. “Oughhh.”

“Tyler!” Alejandro stood up. “Are you alright?”

Alejandro held a hand out to Tyler and pulled him back onto the footrest.

“I-I like girls!”

Alejandro chuckled, and continued to hold his hand. “I know.”

Lindsay looked between the two.

Tyler looked down at Alejandro’s hand before letting go.

“By the way, what time is it?” Alejandro asked.

“Nine,” Lindsay responded.

“Oh, I have to go. See you, Tyler.”

“Bye Al!”

Alejandro grunted, walking away.

Lindsay waited until she heard a door open and shut, and then turned to Tyler.

“Do you have a thing for him?”

“What?” Tyler asked. “No, I don’t, nah, we’re just friends.” He waved his arms around in denial.

“You totally like him! Eee!”

“Do not!”

“Do too! The other day you said he was cute, and today you said you like girls when he helped you up. You totally like him!”

“Aw man,” Tyler sighed. “I do. But only a little!”

Lindsay squealed and gave Tyler a hug. “Yay! You should ask him out!”

“No way! He’s so out of my league.”

“I’m out of your league, but you dated me. Why is he any different?”

“Hey!”

[witchygagirlwrites]

Will Halstead x Reader

It it over? @desimarie12

“I’m gonna stay with Jay for a few days” you were frozen in place, staring at the bags on the floor next to Will’s feet. “Erin warned me when I fell for you. You Halsteads love hard but run when it gets hard” your voice was so damn low you weren’t sure he even heard you until you saw the small flinch that let you know he registered your words.

He shook his head “It’s not that sweetheart” you finally raised your eyes from the bags to look at him, your eyes meeting his “Bullshit. One day you’re talking about rings then the next Nat’s back in town and you need some time apart? Put some effort Will and actually call this what it is. You figured out you fucked up being with me. Just leave already, don’t fucking leave me in limbo”

“I love you, I’ll call you tomorrow” he whispered and took a step towards you like he was going to try to kiss you but you took a step back “Don’t call me. I’ll be at the station house and I don’t need everyone I work with knowing my boyfriend is leaving me at least not until he’s man enough to fully do so”

He nodded “Be safe on shift” and turned to walk out of the door. It took everything in you to not find something to throw after him. When the door closed you slid down the wall, a curse of his name slipping from your lips. You should’ve listened to Lindsay.

“Hey sweetie, you good?” you glanced up to see Stella standing in front of you. You nodded “Yeah Kidd, I’m good” she motioned to the book in your hand “Well you’ve been on that page for the last two hours” You shrugged “It’s a really good page”

She shook her head and sat down next to you “I’m not trying to be nosy but if you weren’t ok, you could talk to me. I’ve been through pretty much any bad crap in a relationship you could go through” you turned your head to look at her and she smiled slightly “Sylvie mentioned seeing Nat” you nodded “So the entire station house knows I’m getting left already?”

Her eyes widened “Halstead left you?” you shook your head “Not yet, as of right now he just needs some time and is staying at Jay’s but we both know what that means”

She slipped her arm around you and pulled you over onto her shoulder “Want me to get Kelly to kick his ass? Cause I will” you laughed lightly “No, it’s just I knew we had some things that needed to be fixed but I didn’t think we were broken Stel” “It’ll be ok”

“Do you love Y/N?” Jay had asked Will the night before. He’d answered “Yes” without hesitation because he knew that he loved you. “Then why are you here? Look I fucked up with Erin by not talking to her. Whatever is going on inside of your head because of Nat being in town, don’t lose Y/N over it man”

“Since when did you get smart?” he asked Jay who shrugged as he took a sip of his beer “About the time you got dumb apparently”

__________________________

Will wanted to call you, talk to you and explain the needed time apart wasn’t due to Nat as much as the reminder of the relationship he’d fucked up and how easily he had fucked it up. He knew he loved you, he knew he wanted a future with you, he just didn’t know how to explain what was going on inside his head. You asked him not to call you while you were on shift and he was trying to respect that.

 “Trauma incoming!” Maggie called out and he stood to respond but she shook her head “Not you Halstead! Rhodes!” Connor came running and Will stared at Maggie “Why not me?” about the time the sliding doors from the ambulance bay came open and he heard Sylvie Brett’s voice “A piece of rebar impaled her side. She was clearing a floor and found a weak spot. Took Casey and Severide two minutes to get her dug out. She lost consciousness in the rig”

He felt his legs get weak when he saw your still form on the gurney. “Will back up” Maggie told him but he couldn’t have moved if he wanted to “Connor please” Connor looked up and met his eyes “I got her. Just let me help her”

He let Maggie move him by his arm. He heard her ask someone to call Jay but didn’t register who. He had to stand by and watch helplessly as you were wheeled by, Connor, Ethan and April working already in an effort against the multiple injuries he could on top of the rebar.

Jay found Will sitting in the hallway outside of surgery. “Hey man, have they told you anything?” Will slowly raised his head to look at his younger brother “No, she um she lost a lot of blood. The rebar punctured her spleen. They’re trying to repair it. On top of that she has a concussion, dislocated shoulder and smoke inhalation”

Jay squatted down in front of him, putting a hand on his shoulder “She’s strong man. This place has the best doctors, you know that. She’ll be ok” Will swallowed hard, tears escaping “She thought I wanted to leave her Jay. That’s the last conversation we had and I couldn’t even explain to her it wasn’t that” 

“Then explain to her when she wakes up. Don’t you dare give up on her now” Jay told him and he nodded “I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t” Jay shook him slightly “Don’t think about that! Dammit she’ll wake up” he nodded “I just need her to be ok Jay. I need her to know it’s her I want, her I love” 

Jay half smiled, tears in his eyes at seeing his brother upset “Then tell her when she wakes up”

Everything hurt, the last thing you remembered was Herrman’s voice telling you the north end of the building was cleared. You forced your eyes open and the harsh fluorescents forced you to close them “Damn that’s bright” you groaned and heard April’s voice say “I’ll turn them down”

April? You slowly opened your eyes again and was met with her smiling face. You realized you were in the hospital. Memories of the floor giving way hit you all at once. “How’d I do?” you asked and she laughed lightly “You’ll be sore and on very light duty but all in all you did ok” you smiled and tried to sit up so she helped you. You glanced around the room and saw what you knew was Will’s jacket draped over the chair in the corner. She followed your line of sight and smiled “He’s on the phone with your sister. He’s gonna be upset he wasn’t here when you woke up. He hasn’t left”

“Guilt is a funny thing” you whispered and saw the confusion in her eyes so you waved a hand “Can I have some water?” she nodded and grabbed a cup, helping you drink. About the time she turned to put the cup back the door opened and your eyes locked with Will’s “You’re awake” he whispered and you smiled slightly “I’m harder to knock down than that” 

April smiled “I’ll give you two a few minutes. Just hit the button if you need anything” you watched her walk out then finally looked back at Will “I’m not dead. You tamed your conscience, you can leave now” then turned your head before he could see the tears. “Baby, please”  he spoke softly, hand lightly brushing yours.

“Will, I’ll be ok” you tried, finally swallowing enough emotion to look at him again. He nodded “You might but I won’t. I don’t want Nat baby. When she got to town it just…it reminded me how bad I messed up things with her…the fact that she nearly hated me and I couldn’t handle you hating me..and I well I guess I caused that anyways didn’t I?”

“I could never hate you Will” you whispered and he smiled “Then give me another chance. Let me prove that I want you, only you. That I love you with every bit of my heart” you felt tears slip from your eyes “If this is just because I’m hurt..” he shook his head “No, I swear..here” he held out his phone to the text messages between you and him.

There were messages saying the same things he’d just said hours before you ever rolled into med. You looked up “One chance Will. I can’t do this to my heart again because fuck I love you” he smiled “I promise I’ll prove myself this time, prove how much I love you” you nodded “Then come kiss me Halstead”