#like i love her but this is a precaution tag

[gayafsowhat]

Anyone want to be mewtuals... We could commit word crimes together (share and beta our fanfics)...

[cryobabiess]

girldad!geta pleeease!

Filia Divina

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Wife!reader

Tags: childbirth, pregnancy, miscarriage mentioned, implied infanticide, soft!geta (if you squint), historically accurate practices, NOT BETA READ SO IF YOU SEE SOMETHING WONKY NO YOU DIDN’T, good ole fashioned misogyny

AN: Tollere Liberos is in reference to an ancient Roman tradition where a father decides whether or not to accept a newborn as their child. Rejected children were abandoned via ‘expositus’ (aka dead ass just leaving a baby out in the wilderness). So basically girldad!geta but historically accurate lol. Enjoy!

It had only been an hour since you birthed her—a sweet little creature with curls the color of honey and supple skin like the flesh of a ripe plum. With a mighty wail fit to be heard across an empire, she came into the world. Your goddess, Juno, generously granted her the health and strength you prayed for. You rejoiced, though your joy was not shared.

The midwives cleaned your daughter in grave silence, save for the whispers of the politic-men gathered to witness the birth of Rome’s divine son. They huddled together in the far corner of the chamber as your girl laid against her mother’s chest for the first time.

“It cannot be true—look again!” Geta frantically commands the weary doctor. He paces across the marble floor in a state of distress. A litany of expressions troubles his face; disbelief, panic, betrayal.

“My lord, it is not what was desired, but I assure you—the child is female. You have my greatest sorrows.” The doctor mournfully bows his head, knowing better than to look the short tempered prince in the eye.

Geta was persistent, diligently sewing his seed in your womb since your holy union. You passed two of his children as blood, and he held you as you suffered through the pain. He watched your body grow when his efforts succeeded, massaged your taut skin with olive oil, and fed you bread soaked in sweet wine when you felt ill. He even kneeled at Jupiter’s alter to call for the safe delivery of his first son and the health of his wife—All these precautions only to be cruelly slighted.

“The gods have punished me, yet I’ve done nothing but bend to their will.” Geta holds his head in disbelief, his devastation made evident by a deep scowl.

Senator Gracchus tentatively approaches your distraught husband, resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“My lord, we must atone for our offenses, whatever they may be. It is a grave misfortune indeed, but your bride—“

Rage ignites across Geta’s face as he pulls away from his constituent’s touch.

“Speak tactfully of your empress if you wish to keep your tongue, Senator.” He seethes through a tight jaw. Gracchus relents, his tone softening considerably. He continues slowly and with caution.

“Two winters have passed since your union, and she has yet to bring forth an heir of Rome. Her body has proved inhospitable. The gods have sent a message, and it would be foolish to turn a cheek—you must heed this omen! ”

Geta takes a moment, carefully considering the senator’s plea for reason. He looks back to you, Obsidian eyes gazing down at the linen sheet that obscures your sleeping child.

“I am a conduit of their will. Tollere Liberos will prevail and the gods will decide through me.” Geta turns to you fully. Your heart becomes heavy in your chest as you search your husband’s face for tenderness, but see nothing but solid stone.

In your dreams, you imagined the day Geta approached his first heir as sweet—that he might kiss your reddened cheeks and proudly claim his child. Never did you think the sight of him would cause you to tighten your grip and cower away. He looms over the bed where you lay, exhausted and perspiring, like a holy monument.

“Show me the child.”

“My love, I beg you—“

“Your emperor commands it.” Geta callously interrupts.

You unwrap your daughter in your arms, trembling hands moving as gingerly as possible. She shifts in her sleep, curling her precious limbs toward her delicate body, but does not wake. Geta’s eyes widen at the sight of her.

“So it is true. My faithful wife’s womb has betrayed me.” His gaze softens. Something stirs behind it, but you are not sure what.

“If you wish to return her life, then be merciful and do the same with mine.” Your heart twists and aches, your love for your emperor becoming a knife in your rib.

To your shock, Geta reaches out to his daughter, takes her tiny fist in his palm, and runs a thumb over her blushing knuckles. She wraps her hand around her father’s finger with a mighty yawn.

You have seldom seen your restless husband become so still.

“She bears your resemblance.” Geta’s voice is but a whisper. His gaze doesn’t stray from her. It appears his heart aches the same as yours.

“And a head of golden hair.” You can only offer an exhausted smile.

Geta takes his daughter into his arms for the first time.

“The gods have spoken!” He declares to the small gathering of senators. Your emperor raises his girl above the laurels atop his head. Some look on with horror, and others with pride.

“She will have my name! It is done.”

As your daughter’s first weeks pass, Geta’s tenderness only grows. In the lavender hours of dawn, you wake to find him cradling her in the crook of his arm. He speaks to her softly.

“Poor girl, you have wounded your father’s pride. My, what tragedy.”

You smile at the sound of her gentle crooning as your husband assuages her back to sleep.

“A son would belong to Rome—but you, dear Septima, will belong to me.”

[zepskies]

Maybe More Than Enough

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve been a friend and ally to the Winchester brothers for years, but you and Dean break new ground while on a stakeout to catch a witch.

AN: Here’s another entry for @jacklesversebingo! It’s also based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @lacilou. 💜

Prompt: Window—Letter Opener—Binoculars

Request: I'd love to read about Dean and the reader who's his age or even a little older.

Song Inspo: “Over the Hills and Far Away” by Led Zeppelin

Word Count: 2.9K

Tags/Warnings: A bit of angst, bit of hurt/comfort, bit of spice.~

💜 Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Discreetly from the passenger side of the car, you peered through the binoculars again. Your target was in view through the unusual circular window: an average looking white man in his fifties, peeling a tangerine from the comfort of his kitchen.

According to his driver’s license, his name was Martin Reynolds. Sam was investigating the sudden death of his wife, Laura, and the wives of two other men in the small town of Whitebury, Mississippi. Laura was the first victim, so you and Dean were watching Martin for any suspicious activity.

Your companion shifted in his seat. You could hear the give of the well-worn leather against denim. The Impala wasn’t exactly inconspicuous for a stakeout, but he refused to be trapped in your “tiny-ass” Toyota Camry all afternoon. You preferred the term compact.

“What’s our he-witch up to?” Dean asked.

Your lips twitched at a smile.

“We don’t know if he’s a witch,” you said, but you passed him the binoculars.

Dean’s mouth quirked to one side before he took a look. “Well, he probably isn’t a shifter.”

“What makes you say that?”

He gestured back at the window and gave you back the binoculars. You peered over and saw that Martin had half the tangerine in his mouth while he opened his mail with a letter opener. It flashed like silver in the afternoon light.

“If that is silver, it would rule out a lot of things,” you agreed, “but it still wouldn’t tell us why he killed his wife.”

Dean looked over as a white Porsche pulled into Martin’s driveway.

“Hmm, well, I’d say motive is comin’ in hot. Literally,” he said, watching intently when a young woman stepped out of the car. Her dress was as tight as the ponytail tied high on her head, a coil of blonde bouncing down her back.

You sighed, with a roll of your eyes. “Typical.”

You noticed the way Dean’s smirk wiped the boredom away from his eyes. It was annoyingly handsome, along with the neatly trimmed stubble across his cheeks, framing a strong jaw and the enticing bow of his lips. You had to resolve to ignore all of it, heaving a small sigh.

You wedged the binoculars between you both and toyed with the silver rings on your fingers—both a fashion statement and a safety precaution.

“Could be a demon deal,” you said. “Three men sporting Touch of Gray, three wives over 40.”

“Damn. That’s cold,” Dean shook his head, crossing his arms from the driver’s seat. Always from the driver’s seat. “That’d be pretty cut and dry though. Downright stereotypical.”

You gave him a smile. “Since when do you like it complicated?”

“Like it?” he scoffed. “What I like and what I get are on two different fucking hemispheres.”

You sensed bitterness there, underneath the dry remark. You looked away from the scene in the kitchen where Martin was pouring Barbie, his presumed girlfriend, a glass of white wine. Just like you thought, Dean’s brief good humor faded, falling into his resting state. It was a harder look than you were used to seeing on him over the years. His lighter, devil-may-care attitude in his younger days seemed to gain a little bit of edge every time you saw him next.

A few decades of bullshit, blood, and loss will do that to you.

But every time he called, you answered.

“You okay?” you asked. You tried to hide the depths of your concern, but maybe you just weren’t good enough. Dean glanced at you and forced his crunched brows to relax, as if he’d caught himself opening the hatch a little too much. Letting his true depths come to light a little too long.   

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he replied.

Sure. Always good.

You met him with a long look, your head rolling onto your shoulder.

“Hey. You can be honest with me, you know,” you reminded him. “What, you think I’m gonna tell Sam all your secrets?”

Dean smiled a little, but he shook his head, remaining stubborn.

“Look, I’m fine. Just the usual bullshit,” he said. “Nothing you gotta be dragged into.”

You frowned. “What, aside from this hunt? Aside from the last ten years of bailing your ass out?”

That last part was more joking. The truth was, Sam and Dean had helped you just as often as you’d tried to help them.

Now, Dean just shook his head. The fact that he didn’t levy back a smartass response further let you know that something was off with him. 

You bumped his arm lightly over his jacket.

“Come on, tell me all about your man feelings,” you teased. It had its intended effect, bringing a reluctant smile to Dean’s lips. He shot you a look, and you couldn’t help but admire how the dimming sun caught in his eyes, that pale green.

“Whatever. Like I said, I’m good,” he said, deflecting further by turning up his music. Yet another Led Zeppelin song was playing, but at least this one was more mellow. The guitar riff filled the car at a moderate volume. You guys were still on a stakeout, after all.

You shook your head, despite your smile. “You sound like a grumpy old man.”

His brows popped up. “Old?”

You shrugged impishly.

“‘Cause if I’m not mistaken, you’ve got a bit more mileage than I do,” he retorted.

You laughed, shoving his shoulder.   

“Well, that’s just rude,” you said. “You’re not even a year behind me. Matter of fact, you’re just a few steps shy of Touch of Gray in there. I can even help you find your shade. I’m thinking, what, medium brown with a hint of silver fox? Could be very George Clooney.”     

The disgruntled look on Dean’s face had you dying.

“Now that’s just uncalled for,” he said, even though his lips were curving upward at the sound of your laughter. Without you knowing, he took in the infectious sound, and the way you pressed the back of your hand against his arm while you tried to get ahold of yourself. It was everything he’d ever liked about you.

Easy. That was what it was, being with you.

The hard part always came afterward, watching you leave.

Letting you leave.

“It’s just…I don’t know,” you said, biting into your lower lip. You smudged your lipstick there, a dark, juicy red. It was distracting enough that Dean almost missed what you said next.

“You seem weighed down.” Your eyes were more serious then, beautiful and warm in their honesty. “Every time I see you, it’s like you’ve got fifty more pounds on your shoulders.”

Dean didn’t have an answer for you, even as he held your gaze.

His cell phone ringing cut through the guitar melody slowly fading into the next song. Dean fished it out of his pocket and answered Sam’s call.

“Hey, what’cha got?”

Your hunch proved correct. Sam tracked down the demon that made soul-claiming deals with a handful of men from the same golf club. All of them bored of their wives, and all of them with too much money on their hands—enough that they refused to lose any of it in a messy divorce.

It was like the opposite of the First Wives Club, and you were sickened.

When you and Dean questioned Martin, he felt just guilty enough to spill his guts.

Sam managed to gank the demon on his own, which left you and Dean with a conundrum: what to do with the marked men who sold their souls. No matter how much justice you thought they deserved, their souls were still damned to Hell either way. As Dean pointed out, that would be price enough to pay.

You were sour about it, but you let Martin and the rest of his scheming bastard friends go…after leaving him with a well-placed knee to the nads. At the very least, he wouldn’t be making any more scheming bastards anytime soon.

Dean was still smirking when you two piled into the Impala. Sam was waiting to be picked up at the bar across town, where he’d found the demon.

“Shut up already,” you laughed.

Dean shook his head, still grinning as he put the car in Drive.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Your smile remained, but not for long as you stared out the window. You liked the evening time, where there was still light enough to see, but the world was winding down in shades of orange-gold and violet. The streetlamps were slowly coming on, lighting the way along the road.

The car pulled to a stop at the red light, there at a busy intersection.

“Hey.”

Dean’s voice, deep and a little tired, caught your attention.

“You okay over there?” he asked. He was side-eying you again, this time in concern. You could see it behind the usual gruffness.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said. “Just makes me glad I never got married. Else I might’ve gotten shivved just so he could get out of paying alimony.”

Dean sucked his teeth. “Apparently it’s a bitch.”

You gave him a dry, withering look. He chuckled and briefly reached over to squeeze your arm.

“Hey, come on. That shit’s not happening to you,” he said. “He’d have to be dumb, deaf, and blind.”

You tilted your head at him, a small smile lighting up your face again. You couldn’t help the way your face warmed in a blush, especially with the way he was looking at you, all smirky and charming and unequivocally Dean.  

“Green light,” you reminded him.

He returned his attention to the road. His right hand was molded onto the steering wheel casually. His left rested on his thigh, while his fingers bounced to the beat of a song off his second favorite Zeppelin album. And you knew that, because he’d been playing it on repeat all day.

Many have I loved, and many times been bitten. Many times I've gazed along the open road…

You watched his profile, for a moment spellbound. The sky dimmed over his shoulder, casting him in both light and shadow, gold and dark.

“Have you ever…” You didn’t even know where you were going with this, but you’d already opened your mouth, and Dean was already glancing your way, with half his gaze on the road ahead.

“You ever gotten close to having something real? Someone who's not gonna shiv you when you’re fifty,” you said.

A laugh caught in his throat. “Hell, I never thought I’d see my forties, but here we are. Apparently I’m old.”

He shot you a wry look. You smiled.

“That’s one hell of a way to avoid the question,” you said.

Dean shook his head, this time with a sigh under his breath. For a second, you didn’t think he would answer you. You almost didn’t blame him.

The music filled the silence in between.

Mellow is the man who knows what he's been missing. Many, many men can't see the open road…

“Once,” Dean admitted. “I thought I had it, but uh…didn’t take.”

“Was she a hunter?” you asked.

Dean shook his head, his eyes staying on what lied ahead.

“Just wasn’t my life,” he said. “Couldn’t keep dragging her into mine.”

There was a lot there, buried deep. You couldn’t even begin to find a shovel, so you let it be. Though you should’ve predicted the way he turned it back on you.

“And you?” he said, brows raised. “Never had a douchebag in a sport coat, playing Caddyshack at the club every weekend?” 

You shook your head as you laughed. If nothing else, Dean could paint a picture.

“Definitely fucking not.” You rested your chin in your palm, your elbow finding purchase above the door handle. “You know me. I’m either too much or not enough.”

You didn’t notice it then, but Dean looked over at you with a frown tugging at his lips. He didn’t like the melancholy in your voice, or the way you turned to look out the window, like you were trying to hide from him.

Instead of putting voice to any of the thoughts rolling through his head, he kept driving.

The Impala rumbled to a stop in the parking lot in front of the bar. You were ready to meet Sam for a couple of beers inside. You grabbed your bag resting on the floor between your feet, but Dean’s stayed your hand, his own wrapping warmly around your arm.

You looked over at him with blinking, expectant eyes. He met you with sincerity.

“Anybody who says you ain’t enough, doesn’t know you,” he said. And then, his smile was back, quirking up at the corner. “At least, not like I do.”

Slowly, you smiled back. Your blush fairly radiated down your neck as well as your face, but you crossed your arms.

“So I’m too much. Is that what you’re saying?” you said.

He chuckled. “I plead the Fifth on that one.”

You fell into a fit of laughter along with him, and you both climbed out of the car feeling a little bit lighter. The blaring red neon sign above the bar blinded you for a moment. You turned to see Dean fiddling with his keys, trying to pick out the right one to lock up the car.

Some deep-seated feeling compelled you to go to him. You made your way around the hood and stopped just behind him. You called his name softly.

Dean turned to look at you over his shoulder. He was surprised to find you there so close. It led him to turn around all the way.

You didn’t give him, or even yourself time to think.

You grabbed the edges of his jacket and pulled yourself up to press your lips to his. It was more or less a gentle kiss. Just a sweet, slow meeting of lips. You pulled away just as slowly, the heels of your boots lowering back down to the ground.

Dean blinked his eyes open. When he came back to himself, he looked down at you in surprise and with a hint of a smile. He had the imprint of your lipstick smudged across his plush mouth.

“What was that for?” he asked.

You smoothed your hands over his jacket. It was a bit too hard to meet his eyes, so yours landed somewhere around his chest. It was also too hard to say what you really wanted to say, so you settled on half of the truth.

“A thank you, I guess,” you said. “And maybe the next time I see you, you’ll have a little less weight on your shoulders.”

His calloused hand cupped your cheek, and he earned your gaze, blinking up at him through your lashes. You couldn’t name everything you saw in his eyes, but it was more than just surprise or lust. In fact, he seemed to be debating with himself, fighting something deep inside.

You saw the exact moment he made his decision.

“Maybe we should make it count then,” he said, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

You didn’t even trust your voice, but your gaze drifted down from his eyes, to his mouth. Your shallow nod in agreement was like releasing him from his chains.

Dean framed your face with both hands and drew you into his kiss, like he was breathing life into you. You certainly felt alive.

You clung to the back of his shirt, to his arms, while he gathered you flush against his chest. His strong hands glided their way down the small of your back, eliciting tingles down your spine. All the while, he drew you in deeper and deeper with each new sensuous glide of his lips against yours.

You yelped in surprise when he turned with you in his arms, just to press you into the side of his car. Dean pulled open the door to the backseat, and you climbed in willingly. He followed after you, at the same time you dragged him over by the front of his shirt. Soon his jacket was wrenched off his shoulders along with yours, both tossed somewhere in the front seats along with his shirt.

While you explored the new expanse of tanned skin, roaming your hands over his strong, broad shoulders and dipping down his back, his lips had fastened to your neck, teasing and grazing with his teeth along your pulse point.

You were already moaning and panting in his ear, your body arching to meet his as you slung a leg across his lap. He grabbed onto your thigh and squeezed, pulling you even tighter against him.

Still, you couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Aren’t we a little old to be making out in the backseat?” you said.

“You can be a little old for a lotta things, sweetheart,” said Dean, his voice gravel and deep as sin. “But this ain’t one of ‘em.” 

AN: Some spicy flangst there for ya! It was honestly refreshing to write some Dean after working on so much Soldier Boy. I love that guy, but he gives me stress sometimes. 😂 Trying to cure Dean's angst is a fun break! 💜

Read the Sequel:

Bonus shot! Resless Nights:

Summary: After a tryst you instigated in the backseat of his Baby, you and Dean have started something new. He’s just not sure that you’re as “all in” as you claimed to be.

▶️ Keep Reading: Restless Nights

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[amirasainz]

What about amira was watching a show and it had steamy scenes and Carlos walk in as had a fit, quickly turning it off saying your just a baby, how dare someone make u watch this

Hi my loves. Enjoy reading and send some requests.

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

P.S.: Shoutout to the person complaining anonymously about how I tag my stories in my requests 😘😘

Just a Baby

Carlos was home for a rare break between races, enjoying some time with his family in Madrid. His sister, Amira, had returned home from university for a few days, and they were both relaxing in the living room. Carlos was in the kitchen, grabbing a snack when he heard the unmistakable sound of a dramatic TV show playing in the background. Amira was deeply immersed in the latest binge-worthy series, curled up on the couch.

The show, however, had taken a rather unexpected turn. A spicy scene appeared on the screen, one that was definitely more "mature" in nature. Just as Amira’s eyes widened, both from surprise and perhaps slight embarrassment, Carlos walked into the room, munching on an apple.

“Amira! What are you watching?!” he exclaimed, nearly choking on his bite.

Amira fumbled with the remote, trying to skip ahead or find the mute button, her face flushing a bit. “It’s just a show, Carlitos. Relax! It’s nothing,” she said, desperately trying to act nonchalant as she struggled to fast forward through the scene.

Carlos marched over and snatched the remote out of her hand. "Nada?! Amira, I saw what was on the screen. You shouldn't be watching things like this! You’re still just a baby!"

Amira rolled her eyes, already anticipating what was about to come. “Carlos, I’m 21. I’m not a baby anymore,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly.

Carlos shook his head, pacing in front of the TV like a concerned father. "21? Oh, please. You still have a teddy bear in your room!" he pointed out, hoping to strengthen his case. "This... this stuff is for adults."

“News flash, genius,” Amira shot back, “I am an adult.”

Carlos’ eyes widened dramatically, as though she’d said something preposterous. “You? An adult?” He let out a chuckle. "Amira, come on. Last week you were asking me to help you change the light bulb in your room because you were scared you’d break it. That doesn’t scream ‘adult’ to me!”

Amira glared at him. “That was because it was really high up and I didn’t have a step stool!” she defended herself, her cheeks turning even pinker. “Besides, what’s the big deal? You’re acting like I haven’t seen—”

“Don’t. Even. Say it,” Carlos interrupted, waving his hands in the air like he was trying to ward off evil spirits. “I don’t want to hear that you’ve seen anything like that. It’s disgusting. Unbelievable. You're practically a baby. You should be watching cartoons or... or... I don't know, baking shows!”

Amira couldn’t help but laugh now, the absurdity of the situation catching up to her. “Baking shows? Are you serious, Carlitos?”

“Or documentaries!” Carlos added, as if he’d had a sudden epiphany. “Something educational, you know. Not… this.”

Amira threw her hands up. “Fine. Next time, I’ll be sure to watch ‘The History of Bread’ just to satisfy you.”

Carlos squinted at her, pointing the remote at the TV and clicking the power button. “You know what, I think I need to start reviewing your shows before you watch them. Like, as a precaution,” he said, sounding very serious.

Amira was now completely exasperated. "What, are you gonna start putting parental controls on the TV?"

"Don't tempt me," he said, raising an eyebrow.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The following weekend, Carlos was back in the paddock for the next Grand Prix, catching up with his fellow drivers. During a quiet moment in the hospitality area, he found himself relaying the entire incident to his teammate and good friend, Lando.

“So I walk in, and she’s watching this... this show,” Carlos explained animatedly, “and there’s this completely inappropriate scene playing. I mean, come on, Amira’s too young for that stuff.”

Lando listened with a grin spreading across his face, clearly enjoying Carlos’ overprotective older brother antics. “Wait,” he interrupted, holding up a hand to stop Carlos mid-rant. “Isn’t Amira 21 now?”

Carlos nodded vehemently. “Sí, but that doesn’t mean anything. She’s still practically a child, Lando.”

“Practically?” Lando’s grin grew wider. “Mate, she’s an adult. You know that, right?”

Carlos folded his arms and huffed. “She’s not mature enough to be watching that kind of content. I need to protect her.”

Lando chuckled mischievously, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “So… you think she’d do that with me?” he said casually, raising his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk.

Carlos’ reaction was instantaneous. “¿Qué? What did you just say?” His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched.

Lando, who knew exactly what he was doing, leaned back in his chair and stretched nonchalantly. “I mean, if she’s watching stuff like that, maybe she’s… you know… open to trying things. I could—”

Before Lando could finish, Carlos had already lunged across the table, his hands outstretched toward Lando’s neck. “¡Eres un idiota!” Carlos shouted as Lando sprang to his feet, barely avoiding Carlos' grip.

Lando’s laugh echoed down the paddock as he sprinted away, Carlos hot on his heels. “It was just a joke, mate!” Lando called back over his shoulder, dodging past a stack of tires.

“I’m going to kill you, Norris!” Carlos yelled, weaving through a group of engineers who quickly parted, sensing the chaos approaching.

Drivers and team members looked on in bewilderment as the scene unfolded. Lando dashed past Max, who raised an eyebrow. “What did you do this time?” Max asked dryly.

“Nothing!” Lando managed to get out between breaths. “Just complimented Carlos’ sister!”

Max’s face broke into a rare grin. “Good luck with that,” he said, stepping aside to let Carlos barrel past.

The chase continued all the way to the garage area, where Lando finally ducked behind a stack of equipment cases, hoping Carlos would lose sight of him. But Carlos was relentless, storming up and down the aisle.

“Come out and face me, coward!” Carlos called, his voice filled with mock fury. “Or are you afraid of what I’m going to do to you?”

Lando peeked out from behind a tire rack, his face still lit up with that boyish grin. “Okay, okay, I surrender! You win!” he said, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “Amira’s off-limits, I swear!”

Carlos, still catching his breath, pointed a finger at Lando. “If you so much as look at her, I will personally make sure you have to drive the car with three wheels, understood?”

Lando nodded, unable to keep a straight face. “Got it, boss,” he said, giving Carlos a mock salute. “You’re such a protective big brother, though. It’s actually kind of cute.”

Carlos groaned, rubbing a hand across his face. “Cute? I’ll show you cute,” he muttered, giving Lando one last glare before finally walking off.

As Carlos walked away, Lando whispered under his breath, “Bet Amira would say I’m cute, though…”

Carlos spun around one last time, but Lando had already disappeared, leaving Carlos shaking his head and muttering something about British troublemakers.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Different II

Katie McCabe x Teen!Reader

Summary: You get your diagnosis

There's a lot of hoops to jump through to finally work out what's wrong with you.

Mam doesn't like you using those words. She doesn't like referring to it as 'what's wrong with you'. She tells you that you're perfect. Nothing is wrong with you. You're perfect the way you are.

There's nothing wrong. You're jumping through these hoops so Katie can finally understand how to help you.

You meet with the paediatrician who makes follow-up appointments for you with a psychologist and an occupational therapist.

The psychologist rules out things like dyscalculia and dyslexia. She says you don't have anxiety and depression either.

You go to the occupational therapist. He runs you through a series of tests. At first, it's big things like jumping or using a skipping rope before he moves onto the smaller things like holding a paintbrush and placing weird pegs things into small holes.

You go back to the paediatrician.

"Dyspraxia," Katie says that evening as you both sit on her bed together," That's what it's called. Dyspraxia."

"I know," You say," I was in the room with you when we got told."

She's holding the pamphlet and folder that the doctor had given you, explaining all the ins and outs of the condition.

It's nothing that you haven't experienced first-hand. You imagine all of these documents were made for parents of little kids who got diagnosed. You imagine it's more for Katie's benefit than your own.

You know what it's like to live with this condition. You know what to expect and how to adapt.

Katie is the one that will be reading those pages front to back, well into the night even though she's got training the next day.

You're off school for the week.

One of the gas taps in the science laps has started leaking so the whole school was shut down as a precaution.

You're more than happy to tag along to training, stealing one of the muffins from the dining hall to eat by yourself out on the pitch.

"So," Kim says as she sits next to you," I heard from Katie that you finally got that diagnosis."

You shrug. "It's nice to have a name for it now. I think Mam's read that folder at least ten times now. I don't know if she even got any sleep last night."

"That sounds like Katie." Kim nudges you with her knee. "How are you feeling about it?"

"It is what it is," You reply, picking at your muffin," Mam said that she's still trying to take it all in. I don't know if that's good or bad."

Katie had been resistant at first. She hadn't wanted you to get tested for anything. You were perfect the way you were and she didn't want anyone to make you think otherwise.

She was all denial.

Deny, deny, deny.

You were brutal acceptance.

There was something that made you different to the other kids. There was something that made you different to most other people you had ever met.

You don't know now what Katie thinks of your diagnosis, this new label to stick on yourself.

You don't know if it'll change how she thinks of you. If she'll think you're less perfect now that you've got something official to say that you aren't.

"Katie loves you," Kim says," That won't ever change. You're her kid."

"I'm not a kid," You grumble and Kim laughs.

"You're her teenager then," She corrects," But she does love you and all she wants is to give you the best possible life."

"Yeah but-"

"It's not going to change anything," Kim insists," Okay? Katie loves you."

You don't doubt that. You've never doubted that.

You just hope Katie doesn't doubt it either.

She paces in front of you that evening and you hold your breath.

"I've talked to your school," She says," They're working on getting you a school-issued laptop but for the time being you're allowed to bring in one of ours from home. You'll get extra time for your exams and the teachers are going to start giving you more handouts rather than making you write everything up."

"Wait...what?"

"What do you mean what?"

You frown. "Mam...I...I don't get it."

"You're getting accommodations," katie says, sitting right next to you," Because you're different to the other kids and need a bit more support. You're a smart kid. You just need to do things a little differently. We're getting you help."

"Mam, I..." You don't quite know what to say. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Katie says," I love you. I'm just making sure you get what you deserve."

[lomlhwa]

glory hole (v.c)

pairing: sex worker!reader x patron!vernon

preview: vernon's friends found a club that has secret glory holes. they know he's dying to get laid, so why not visit the glory holes?

tags/warnings: fem reader, reader is basically bent over a table and chained down, monster cock vernon, spanking, overstimulation, squirting, pet names (slut, whore, cumdump), degrading, reader calls vernon 'sir', unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampies

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.2k

song recs for this fic: gimmie more by britney spears

a/n: this one's a doozy

vernon anxiously nibbles on his fingernail as he waits for his friends to arrive. he’s standing outside a raunchy club, looking like a total creep. why did he agree to this? there’s no way he’s actually this desperate to get off. 

just as he’s about to walk away, his friends round the corner, laughing and carrying on. “yo vernon! you excited, buddy?” his friend, mingyu, asks. vernon shrugs. “i guess so.” mingyu throws his arm over vernon’s shoulder and guides him into the club.

they head straight for the back of the room, finding a small desk that looks like a reception desk. “hey, reservation for jeonghan?” his other friend walks up. reservations for glory holes is insane. “ah, welcome back sir. 4 of you today?” the receptionist asks and jeonghan nods. the receptionist smiles and types something into her computer.

“would any of you gentlemen like protection? we make sure our workers are all clean but if you’d like the extra precaution, let me know.” everyone shakes their heads so vernon follows suit. the woman smiles again. she hands all four of them waivers to sign. he reads it carefully before signing it and handing it back.

the receptionist rises from her chair and walks over to unlock the door beside the group of friends. “your rooms are numbers 5 through 8. remember, feel free to engage in any of your fantasies as long as you don’t seriously injure anyone. their chains are easy to rotate if you wanna change positions. enjoy your 2 hours with our lovely women.” with that, the door is shut. 

“alright boys, see you later,” mingyu shouts before running into a room and clicking it locked. all of the other disperse as well, leaving vernon alone. he wanders to the last one of their rooms available. room number 6. he can already hear the sounds of skin slapping coming from other rooms.

he opens the door hesitantly, finding you bent over, humming to yourself. when he clicks the door locked, you jump and stop humming. “welcome sir. feel free to use me as you please. i’m here for your pleasure,” you recite the standard welcome message to the new patron who has just walked in. you can only hope it’s not some gross middle aged man with a tiny cock again.

when you feel no contact for another 5 minutes, you get worried. “sorry, i don’t mean to not touch you, i got dragged here by my friends and i feel bad using you.” you can’t help but stifle a small giggle. a man feeling bad about using a glory hole? that’s a new one. “sir, this is my job. just fuck me already.” by now, you’re certain he’s an ugly, washed up man. 

finally, you hear his belt jingle and you know he’s sucking it up. you hear him take a deep breath before shoving into you. you gasp at the size, your walls stretching painfully around him. you grip your chains with such force that your knuckles turn white. 

“fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he mutters before beginning to move. he starts off slow, knowing that the stretch is painful. he grips your hips tightly, leaving finger indents in your soft skin. he snaps your hips against yours, driving his cock against your g-spot and prodding your cervix. it’s been so long since you actually enjoyed a patron, but this felt so good. you wished you could reach your arm back to hold his arm or something. 

“you’re such a good slut, aren’t you?” he says before landing a hard smack on your ass. clearly he has managed to get much more comfortable. you nod your head, agreeing with him. you can feel your release building up with every thrust. such a timid man fucking so well is unheard of. but you’re loving this. you grip your chains for dear life, gasping for air as your orgasm creeps up. “god, please sir i’m gonna cum,” you beg, barely fighting it off. 

“you can cum, but i’m not gonna stop fucking you. i’m not done yet. i’m gonna use your hole until i cum” vernon smacks your ass again and you fall over the edge. your legs shake violently. if it weren’t for the chains, you would be snapping your legs closed. he continues to jackhammer into your hole, pushing you past the edge and towards another orgasm. you notice that his thrusts are getting sloppy, signaling to you that he’s close. “please cum inside me, sir. i need it so bad,” you plead, your walls squeezing around him. he digs his nails into your sides as he cums, filling you to the brim. the sensation sends you into another orgasm, this time you squirt all over his legs and the floor.

“aw, the cumdump likes being filled so much that she couldn’t take it,” he snickers, running his fingers over your sensitive core. you shake and twitch at every small touch. “i’m gonna flip you over, i wanna see your pretty face.” he hooks his arms around your waist and rolls you over. being rolled over holds your arms down to your chest with the chains, still trapped. 

when you’re finally situated and you see his face, you’re astonished to see how beautiful this man is. you almost wish this wasn’t a business exchange, but you know better than to get attached to customers. “well aren’t you a pretty little thing. so pretty and such a whore,” he comments, stroking your face. he ducks down to situate your crossed legs around his waist. he reaches down between you to shove back into you.

“i have 15 minutes left, i’m gonna get another orgasm out of you.” 15 minutes? how has it already almost been 2 hours? he slides into you easier this time, your hole having yet to recover from his previous entry. your arms strain against your chains, wishing you could grab onto him to ground yourself. he pounds into you ruthlessly, his only focus being to drive you over the edge.

he reaches down to rub your clit and you throw your head back, your eyes crossing involuntarily. “oh my fucking god,” you croak, your voice getting caught in the back of your throat. you squeeze your legs around his waist, desperate for release. with 5 minutes left on the clock, you plead for your orgasm. “cum with me, slut. i’m gonna fill you up again,” he demands, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. 

as he feels you tighten for a final time, he leans down to kiss you. you hadn’t been kissed in so long so this surprised you. you kiss him back, cumming onto his cock as he simultaneously fills you up to the brim.

he pulls out of you and flips you back over into your original position just as his time strikes zero. “h-have a good day sir. feel f-free to return whenever you’d like,” you stutter the standard goodbye message. he slaps your ass one last time before pulling his pants back up and walking out. 

as the door closes behind him, he finds his friends coming out of their own rooms as well. “so? how was it?” jun asks him, patting him on the back. “so good, and she’s so hot,” he says, gesturing back to his room. 

“i will be coming back.”

© lomlhwa 2024

[choccy-milky]

choccy im curious, are Clora and Imelda friends 👀

yes and their friendship can be summed up in this 1 pic LMAO

theyre not like SUPER close since they're friends though sebastian/ dont have many common interests, but clora really looks up to and admires imelda, and imelda gives clora the no-nonsense and tough love that she needs (also clora is intimidated by her as well BAHAH. as she should be 🧎‍♀️👑)

i already spoiled it in my tags yapping about it, but its a scene from chap 15 of my fic 🥰🥰🥰 iykyk (also this is the first and probably last time ill ever draw rookwood LMAO) i rly love how its turning out tho so here are more wips!!

BAHAHA anon how many do u think i get 😩....i dont get 1 ask per day or anything like that, maybe like 2-4 a week? bahaha it probs just looks like i get more since i always compile them when i get around to answering asks, cuz i dont wanna spam ppl's dash or anything🙏

LMFAOOO omg you're literally like this meme....this is how im imagining you at the wedding

BUT IM GLAD YOU LIKED IT!! tbh i have no idea what the backstory is tho LMAO. maybe clora trying to distance herself more and more from seb cuz of how overbearing hes being and seb noticed/took...precautions??👀 but nothing very deep beyond that. and omg THE WOMB TATTOO STOPPP BAHAHA💀💀imagining THAT sort of magic existing in the HP universe is wild...is that why seb is always in the restricted section??🤔 WHAT IS BRO RESEARCHING��🤨🔍🔍

[fandomnerd9602]

Needy (🌶️)

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

Work was going well for you at the Westview sanctuary. You liked the routine, made you feel good and a little secure. But your work flow was taking a hit lately.

Your amazing doe-human mate, Wanda, warned you a month ago that she was due to enter her heat cycle. For her, it was much less entering it gracefully and more full body slam into you at a moment’s notice.

She was constantly panting, keeping herself in the bare minimum: short and a tank top. And she was taking every possible second to have a saunter in her step when she was in your viewpoint.

More times than not, you were a practical slave to your goddess. She always made sure it was before the boys woke up or after they went to bed. But lately she’s been pushing her boundaries. And one of those boundaries was your office.

Your mate came creeping into your office. Her face was flustered, her voice was desperate and begging, “detka, I need you”

“Baby I have a meeting with Tony in ten minutes” you try to tell her but she grabs your hands.

“I only need five. Please, detka!”

You bite your lip in contemplation. Did she really want you to take her right here in your office? “Promise me, you can be quiet?”

“Yes! I will be quiet!” She says, her breathing was already panting.

You gently push her against the walls of your office. She was already giggling.

“Detka,” she said her voice husky with intent, “ravage me”

Your fingers snaked under her sundress and inside her denim shorts. You gently place your free hand over her mouth. Just a precaution.

You begin to toy with her pearl. Her eyes roll backwards. A muffled moan escapes her lips. You gently caress her treasured spot, kissing her neck as you delicately work on your task.

“Oh my gentle doe,” you whisper in her ear, “such beautiful sounds you make”

Her muffled moans were a beautiful symphony.

A gentle caress builds into a soft rub. Within minutes, your doe is a whimpering mess as you slip two fingers inside her shorts and begin adding to her pleasure. She was your goddess and you were gonna treat her as such.

Within a minute, you could feel her entire body seize up. You kissed her and held her, helping to muffle her euphoric cries. Her fingers grip your shoulders as the waves of pleasure pass over her. One of her arms was wrapped around your neck, one of her legs was snaked around your waist.

Her gentle eyes reflected all the stars in the heavens. “Oh thank you. Thank you! Oh detka!” She whispered her tone still incredibly needy and desperate.

“Such a good doe” you gently tease and encourage her. You guide her to lay down on your couch. You give one last kiss to her lips, her once pristine hair, now a happy mess.

“How long will your meeting be, detka?” She asks, her voice full of need and desire.

“About an hour” you guess.

“Good” she purrs as she seductively lays there on your couch. “One hour. Not a second more. Your couch is quite comfortable and I’m getting lonely already.”

“Yes my doe” you give her a playful wink before heading out.

According to your brother in law, doe heat cycles can last a week or two. Well you and Wanda were gonna enjoy every last second of it. Your loving doe Wanda Maximoff would ensure that.

Tags @lifespectator @olsenmyolsen @iiconicsfan25 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @russianredassassin @revanshand @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @julieromanoff @aloneodi

[seelestia]

⟡ to set one's self aflame. (do it all for love.)

⎯ how protective are they of you? how do they protect you and how do they like being protected in return? { s for security ノordered by @phantovia! }

RESERVED FOR! ꒰ character ꒱. lyney ft. gn!reader. { 1.5k words wc }

FLAVOR! ꒰ genre ꒱. fluff & sprinkles of lore angst, established relationship.

TOPPINGS! ꒰ tags ꒱. lowkey a character study made poetic (???). mentions of self-destructive habits, also pls don't smile at lyney bcs he's weak in the knees for u.

BAKER’S NOTE! ꒰ thoughts ꒱. thanks for the req, yona! i got to appreciate this silly guy all over again thanks to u ‹3 ik ur acc is already archived so i hope this made for a nice tribute. pls take care of urself & have a good life ahead 🫂

© seelestia on tumblr, june 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

lyney is protective to a concerning extent. the instinct of an older brother, maybe?

there is some sort of irony to be found in it all since the reason he protects to a 'concerning' extent is out of concern in the first place.

behind his show of brilliance, you consider yourself lucky enough to have witnessed a side to lyney that his audience wouldn't have guessed; that he is a worrier in every aspect of the word. whether for his family, for you, for his friends or for others he comes across that are plagued by misfortune - if all that worry were to come in the shape of dimes, he'd already have an abundance of them to share with the entire nation of fontaine.

but he has no choice, does he?

his background is not a clean slate nor is it a display of sunshine and rainbows resembling his magic shows. lyney's hands are tainted, covered by his gloves as a measly means of self-solace. he has to worry. associating himself deeply and intimately with another is a risk on its own - comparable to dragging someone else down into the murkier depths with him. he can never do that, never has the courage nor the heart to.

(but fortunately for him, you've always been braver than most.)

. . .isn't that why you offered your hand, your trust to him first? he swore to never let you down from that day on.

easier said than done, however.

the house of the hearth operates within the shadows but as for its foes? some also prefer to dwell in the dark and some move in broad daylight. no matter what it is, they all require the same precaution: for him to keep his guard up at all times. every child has been trained by “father” to know that but you're an innocent, tied to this precarious matter merely due to your connection with him.

(“i don't regret anything,” you told him but he didn't look into your eyes, conflicted. you couldn't tell if he believed you or not.)

how was your day? have you eaten? you look sad, did something happen? — all these little questions are a way for him to show that he cares, that you're important, that you're his responsibility and he'll be there for you.

bound by both guilt and love, lyney promises to keep you safe. from whatever kinds of threats there are; whether it be fools with nefarious schemes or even an insect you're too scared to touch, he'll keep you safe all the same. so please, don't hide from him if you're dealing with something. it's better to let him handle it. . . right, correction: the two of you can handle it together.

(truly, his desire to protect can both be his greatest strength and most formidable foe.)

the way lyney protects is through self-sacrifice, granting peace in exchange for destruction of the self.

since the very beginning, lyney has grown used to seeing the world through the lens of a protector.

he recalls the old times where he and lynette loitered the streets in ragged clothes and the only refuge he could provide her with was his hand. it mattered not if he was freezing cold from the rain. . . as long as his little sister was protected, comforted by whatever warmth he had left - it's alright. to do that wasn't an option then, it was a necessity.

to sacrifice himself is a habit. it's easy to adopt but not at all easy to discard.

in lyney's eyes, burdens often seem as if they would be lighter upon his shoulders than they are on another's - but this is only wishful thinking. only meant to convince himself that pain shall eventually lose its harsh bite the more he bears it. “well, has it?” if asked, he cannot give an answer. regardless, that alone is enough of a justification for him because he can't bear the thought of doing anything else; to stand idly by, to be utterly useless.

if he has the means to protect others, why wouldn't he do so? even if he wears himself down to the bone, he’d do it again. akin to a bright flame lit in a hearth, lyney envelopes those near him in a blanket of warmth - and if the blaze threatens to flicker, he'd simply ignite a piece of himself to prevent it from diminishing into futile cinders. he won't let it happen.

(but little does he know that even cinders still serve a purpose. they exist as proof, a sign that his sacrifice has never been in vain.)

in return, lyney feels protected by simply knowing that you're happy (and your acknowledgement of his efforts).

let's call it an innate principle that belongs to a magician; he wants to see smiles on the faces of others. “a smile weighs much lighter for your face to carry compared to a frown, no?” he joked to you once, tapping gently on the corner of his lips with a grin. it was said with a light heart, but you knew he meant it deep down.

(he always does so much, only to ask for so little in return.)

you were not so cruel that you couldn't even grant him that, so you smiled. genuine and grateful. “. . .thank you, lyney,” you said. he fell quiet then. had the wind been knocked out of his lungs or had the world stopped spinning? he thought he saw stars in your eyes, but that couldn't possibly be true. the sun glaring down at him from behind the clouds above remained unmoved.

not like it mattered, anyway. his poor heart was far too occupied with you to care about the answer. “o-oh? you're welcome. . .” lyney blinked, multiple times, dazedly.

gratitude is not a foreign concept to him; he often receives it from an audience member, a lonely elder he briefly chatted with, a fellow member from the house of the hearth — so, just what makes it different now? perhaps, it's because he knows that you've beared witness to his heart that lies deeper within.

that you see right through him, that you're thanking him for who he truly is, although he no longer has a definite image of “self” from the countless white lies piling at his feet like a tower. yet he finds comfort in it, in the way you hold his sullied hands so kindly. he isn't wearing gloves this time. strange, lyney had never imagined transparency to be a feeling so benevolent and cathartic.

no matter what thoughts are buzzing in his head or what ache tugs on his body, they can pester him as much as they'd like - with one swift recall of your smile, lyney feels as if he can banish them even if momentarily. they'll come back sooner or later, he knows, but is it cowardly of him to find solace in that brief respite?

when lynette taps on his cheek to wake him up in the morning, when freminet knocks on his door to deliver something, when other siblings flock around him to welcome him home, or when you come to visit him after a long day — those worries disappear — but even if he already knows that they will make their inevitable return. . . perhaps, everything will be okay.

(it has to be, he tells himself.)

“did something happen yesterday?”

your lunch with a certain feline girl in front of hotel bouffes d'ete kickstarts with a simple question. but the abruptness of it all wipes away the content look on your face and replaces it with a frown.

the tea in your cup reflects your reflection as much as it does your perplexity. lynette lifts her own teacup to her lips, composed while you're lost in thought, confused.

“lyney went home with a wide smile on his face yesterday,” she elaborates, humming either at the tea or at the current matter she's recalling. perhaps, even both but you aren't sure yet. “while this wouldn't be an odd occurrence, i thought there must've been a special occasion to warrant a smile that wide.”

ah. the realization dawns on you in gentle waves. he said something that prompted a smile out of you yesterday — the exchange of a kind “thank you” from your side and a flustered “you're welcome” from his — not that smiling is a rarity around him, hardly, the one thing magicians do best is attract smiles.

your gaze drifts down to stare at nothing in particular. fond memories filled with the face of a familiar magician swims before your eyes. “hm. . . it must've meant a lot more to him than i expected,” you mumble to yourself. in your eyes, you'd think the look on your face represents the paradigm of nostalgia but in lynette's eyes, you look like a madman smiling to yourself so intensely.

“not you too,” she lets out a resigned sigh, placing down her teacup. “smiling to yourself like that. . .” she shakes her head in a disappointed manner, “you and lyney must've been rubbing off on each other these days.”

“maybe a bit too much,” lynette adds, but there is a ghost of a smile on her face this time around.

you can only smile sheepishly.

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated.

[mokulule]

The Number You have Called Cannot Be Reached - part 8

Part 1 | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence So I promised this like months ago, and then got overwhelmed by having to manage the taglist resulting in me not updating this fic despite actually having written the next part. So that said this is the last time I'm tagging people, please subscribe to the masterlist - I'm gonna link it both here at the top and at the bottom. Anyways enjoy the next part:

Jason could handle this. He had handled this for years. The Pits were a known enemy. It shouldn’t effect him to this degree. But he could handle this. He could go about his day without putting heads in duffel bags, that had got to count as a win. The fact that he was avoiding his family, was just a precaution. Jason had everything under control.

Not like when he’d fled the Cave after assaulting Bruce in his stupid sweater.

That had not been his proudest moment. But the thing that really got to him was how he didn’t remember doing it. He didn’t even remember going to the Cave. When he tried to think it was all a green haze. The last moment of real clarity was opening Ghost’s bag and seeing nothing but dry protein bars. Knowing in his gut this was all he ate and that he stood with his food, and no way to give it back to him.

When he had fled the Cave, he’d gone home shaking like a leaf, and sunk to the floor trying to get his head back on straight. He didn’t know how long he sat there with his back against the door, just trying to breathe and search his memory. Eventually, though he didn’t know after how long, he found his phone and looked up the news. It had been a great relief to find that Red Hood had not been sighted, so he likely hadn’t been out on a murder spree he couldn’t remember.

But now it was days later. There had been no more green hazes. Things were under control.

Maybe he hit a bit harder, and a bit longer, when he went out. But it was the normal amount? Wasn’t it? Definitely not much more than normal, if it was more. That he was sure of… like 80% sure of. Jason rubbed the front of his helmet in lieu of his brow - It didn’t really help. What had Bruce even said that set him off? He barely remembered, something that felt demeaning, but the words escaped him no matter how many times he turned them over in his head. Normally he wouldn’t question himself that like, of course Bruce would have said something demeaning, he always did. He didn’t trust Jason, never would again. There would always be suspicion and doubt. But now…

Jason’s hand clenched into fists. Now having been without the Pits’ influence, having seen Bruce trying to reach out to him, as awkward and resigned as it had been, he wasn’t so sure.

He wasn’t sure he could trust himself.

Maybe this was all Bruce’s plan? Another of his famous gambits - this one to fold Jason back under his control, with the pretense of love and family. Because surely he had been right all along and Jason needed to be watched, couldn’t be trusted on his own.

Jason ripped the helmet off his head, only barely stopped himself from throwing it. He gasped and breathed in deep, like a man drowning. He was the one in control, he reminded himself firmly. Not the pits. Not Bruce.

There was sound in his comms and he hastily pulled the helmet back on. Ghost had been sighted. He had to go. If he could just talk with Ghost, figure out what this was.

Ghost ran away. Immediately, as if he could sense Jason.

It was okay, Jason could handle this.

Oo o oO

Barbara tapped the space bar absently without actually pressing it. Keeping half an eye on her leftmost monitor which showed the program she used for the surveillance in Gotham, no persons of interest were pinging tonight so far, no alarms had tripped for about an hour. She had time to ponder the conundrum that was their reoccurring thief.

If the thief was building something the other night was proof the loss of the spectral calibrator, hadn’t put a stop to the progress. The thief never ran in the same direction so they still didn’t even have that to go by to narrow down where he stayed, when he wasn’t giving them the run around.

The odd reaction to Jason hadn’t made a reappearance. In fact the moment Jason joined them the thief disappeared immediately: density shifting into the ground. Jason was not happy about it to say the least.After the backpack full of barely edible off-brand protein bars had been delivered to the cave by Jason, Barbara would agree with Jason that whatever situation the thief was in, it was worrying if this was all that he ate. She still held by her assessment that the photographic evidence was of too low quality early in their run-ins because of the strange electromagnetic interference he gave off to actually judge if he’d lost weight - but he did look very gaunt now.

She leaned back in her chair. A cup of coffee was warm between her hands, she breathed in the familiar scent as she considered the known facts.

Name assumed to be Danny Fenton, potentially legally Daniel Fenton, though they’d been unable to find a match to his physical appearance and rough age in their databases. He hadn’t actually spoken to any of them, it was a very real possibility he was a foreigner, but they’d checked and he wasn’t wanted by any foreign intelligence services.

The phone was baffling.

It was a brick, and it looked like something from the early 00s, from around the time when handheld phones really started to be something everyone had.

Tim had asked for Barbara’s help after he hadn’t been able to recover the erased text messages for some days. Tim had filled her in on his discovery that while all the numbers coded into the phone led to a “the number you have called cannot be reached” message when called from the phone - some of the numbers were actually active when looked up; the Jazz one led to a pizza place and the Dad number led to an elderly woman with Chinese heritage who had no relation to anyone named Danny or Fenton. The rest of the numbers weren’t currently in use.

It was odd however that despite those two numbers being in use, they still got the cannot be reached message. Tim had suggested the program which made the phone able to piggyback on the mobile network without a sim was faulty, but it had been easy enough for Barbara to disprove by calling a local number which connected with no problem. Tim was brilliant but sometimes he got too caught up in his complicated theories that he forgot the simple things.

Her recovery program for the text messages had just finished running (this was her third attempt). She took a sip of coffee, leaned forward and promptly nearly spat it out when she saw the result. It went down the wrong pipe when she tried to recover and she coughed and sputtered. Carefully she put her cup on her desk before she spilled it.

Finally her airways were clear and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Somehow this was Dick’s fault.

She had recovered the messages. They were there - time stamps and all. The last message received was over a decade ago in 2009 and wasn’t that ominous? But that was a side note to be pondered later, because the contents of the messages, oh this was malicious.

Somehow, before deletion every single message had been changed to “Ghost”.

Not just a single ghost, no, entire messages teasing at their original length, but just changed into ghost ghost ghost ghost ghost. A whole litany of ghosts.

And it was definitely Dick’s fault.

Next

So that was it, hopefully I will be able to get back in the swing of things now. Commentary and tags are a great motivator and I read them all. As stated this is last time I tag people, so in the future you can subscribe to the masterlist or on Ao3 where the edited and hopefully better version eventually goes up.

Tag list of doom part 1:

@thewondersoflebanon | @gin2212 | @busterkeel | @apointlessbox | @spoopyspoony | @charlietheepic7 | @proper-idiocy | @serasvictoria02 | @zgirlly | @emeraldcorpral | @mushroom-jack | @v-inari | @8-29pm | @quirky-gardener | @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff | @mars-the-witch | @elthepickle | @thegatorsgoose | @impulsiveasshole |

@tired-yet-awaken | @luagi-the-bestest | @britcision | @autumnwulf | @little-pondhead | @asphyxia778 | @sarina-elais | @may-rbi | @onlyhereforthechaos | @somuchyikes | @yjfk | @rosiea184 | @screamingtofillthevoid | @ailithnight | @writer-extraodinaire | @samgirl98 | @hanahaki-disease | @riverdancingwerewolves |

[nescaveckwriter]

Hey, lovely! 🥰

So I'll put the request here too to make it easier for you to answer: can I request a fic from you where Dean falls asleep on Y/N's shoulder when they're hanging out with her family like that dream I told you about 🥹 something sweet and fluffy, and maybe she'll later tease Dean, but just a little 😆🤭

Love you and thank you! 🤍☀️

❤️. Awww @k-slla 🐞... I really hope this is what you had in mind, Oh goodness 🤭 its such a cute request 🥰 and I love you too 💕... Also I'm going to tag @artyandink for my first post on the #Jensenathon and then @anyfandomgoesbingo for my fist square ('Game Night, will be in bold') 🤭🥰 hopefully y'all like this . 🥰🤭🐞

Warnings: I'm going to say 18+ only ya know just for precaution 😅 but honestly there's none, just fluffy and sweetness.

Words: 1015

A little fun !! 🤭❤️❤️

He's hand runs over his freckled face, it's been a rough couple of days, he's been struggling more to sleep, than in a while, everything weighing so heavily on his shoulders, so when I came running towards him, big smile plastered on my face, almost excitedly jumping up and down, like a two year old, "Dean! Babe?" His green eyes stare into mine, and I feel butterflies swirling around again, "Sweetheart? Don't you seem all excited!" 

Laughing "I am, it's been awhile since we had a fun time" giving him a Bambi-like glaze "so, my parents invited us to Game night, please can we go?" 

He couldn't keep the smile from tugging at the corners of his perfect plum lips, "That sounds like fun sweetheart"

 "Really?" I yelped.

He pulls me into one of those breath stopping hugs, tugging his head into the crook of my neck , the hot air of his breath tickling against my skin , while he whispers "your the only bit of light in this world you know that?" I just hugged him back, unsure how to reply, the emotion welling up in my eyes, so instead of saying a single word, I held him tight, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, just lightly running my fingers, in his hair. I'm not sure how long we held each other in that heartfelt embrace but without saying a single word, it spoke of love, trust, peace, maybe the only sense of peace we had in our lives.

Blasting the radio loudly, playing Dean's favourite Led Zeppelin songs, on the drive over to my parents house, we got out, in a quite cheerful mood, well I could still see the heaviness in those emerald green orbs of his, but I made a quick promise to myself that, I'll do anything in my power, to make sure he has a little fun and relaxes a bit. So without further due, I grabbed his hand, which in return he held the beer and some of the snacks. We rang the doorbell and got welcomed as if we were long lost. We walked in and the living room, spoke of fun with the board games all stacked up, there was wine, and beer, finger foods, it spelled laughter and fun.

 As the night got started and we were teamed up together we laughed and shared stories throughout the games. When Dean ate all the pie and some other snacks, me and my mom went into the kitchen, to get some more snacks. When she smiled looked at me and said, "Sweetie,you look so happy are you?" 

My eyes glistened, "Mom! I'm not happy, I'm overjoyed, I simply adore Dean, I love him more than anything in this world" soft tears rolled down my mom's cheeks, "Sweetie I'm so happy for you, he looks like a good man" I nod, "He is mom, he has his problems but when it comes to me, he treats me like a queen". And with that we walked back to where Dean and the rest of my family were sitting. He gave me that smirk, of his, the one that made my knees weak, and I smile back, he pats the seat next to him, and I gladly obliged, he placed a sweet kiss on my cheek, I placed my hand on his thigh, giving him a slight squeeze, after my father cleared his throat he said we should maybe play a card game, and so we started.

The rest of the night was filled with laughter, an accusation of cheating every now and again, but it was all playful, and light hearted fun, and as the night went on, everyone taking turns, when it came to Dean's turn, I felt his head resting on my shoulder, and when I looked down, I saw his eyes were closed, the man fell asleep in the middle of room filled with people. I didn't have the heart to wake him up, or even stir a little, so I took the beer out of his hand, and the left over cards and sat it down with mine, mouthing to my parents that we are done playing for the night so I just watched them play further on, until one for one got up and either went home or to bed, leaving me and Dean in the living room, his head still on my shoulder. It didn't take long for my eyelids to fall close, my head gently rested against him.

The night turned into early morning sunrays lighting up the room, my eyes fluttering open only to be met by his forest green orbs, his voice gruffly "Sweetheart when.. what... How?" Smiling, I look at him, my own voice a little croaky from the sleep, "No! Apparently we're so boring and not good company at all, you fell asleep while we were playing cards" 

Dean looked shocked and ashamed "Sweetheart it's not that, it's, I'm so sorry okay, I don't..." I pressed a finger on his lips , "Shhh, babe I'm joking, I know you were tired" A smile tugs at his plum lips, "really you had to make me feel bad didn't you?" Shrugging my shoulders, chuckling a bit "I couldn't help myself, sorry my love" he looks at me as if he's looking into soul, "I love you, you know that right?" Nodding about to answer but before I could, he's lips crashed against mine in a searing kiss, his fingers tangled in my hair, I couldn't hold the small moan escaping my lips, the grin on Dean's lips was unmistakable, he shifted slightly, gently guiding me to lay on the couch, I giggled, whispering "My parents'' pressing his finger against my lips, "shhh sweetheart, we don't want to wake them up do we?" with that he captures my lips in a passionate kiss, after a little while, he pulls back, hoarsely whispers "I like game night!"  planting yet another kiss, in that moment I knew, I Will always love this green eyed man, even if he falls asleep mid family events.

@jackles010378 @winchesterwild78 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @bookishtheaterlover7 @cutedisneygrl

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Precaution

Moon boys x afab!reader

Wanna get tagged?

Summary: You feel like starting to get sick. The boys take action.

Content: Marc being Marc, Jake feeds reader at first, wholesome.

A/n: Felt like getting a cold couple days ago but it turned out to be nothing but a stuffed nose and some sneezing. Welp.

You woke up with a throat drier than sand, a full nose and feet as cold as ice.

Steven was sleeping perfectly fine next to you with his face buried in his pillow.

As bad as you wanted to just shove your feet into Steven's blanket, your dry throat made you want to drink liters of water.

With a soft groan, popping your bones and putting socks on, you got up and headed into the kitchen.

The clock along your way showed 2:45 AM. An ungodly time for an ungodly feeling.

In the kitchen the first thing you did was downing two and a half glasses of water.

Your throat was feeling so much better with all the water, but your nose was still stuffed so you grabbed some tissue and took care of it.

Both nostrils breathing in fresh air. The best feeling.

Just a second later you heard the soft padding of feet approaching the kitchen.

When he came into view, he was rubbing his eyes.

"Hi luv." Steven spoke up with a sleepy voice.

"Hi." you smiled.

Steven went to the fridge, opening it and grabbing the milk. "It's like 3 AM, can't sleep?" he asked, pouring milk in a glass and putting it back in the fridge.

You shrugged, "Woke up with a dry throat."

Steven eyed you with worry, sipping on his milk. "Don't catch a cold now."

You gave a smile. "Nope."

"Did you open the window again? Maybe that's why."

"Yeah... but only for five minutes... well, until I fell asleep." you admit sheepishly.

Steven shot a lazy smirk. "Oh wow."

You shrug. "Anyways, I'm heading back to sleep, you coming?"

He nodded, putting the glass down and followed you back into bed.

"See you in the mornin' love." he smiled, giving you a peck on the cheek before he fell asleep.

You moved closer to him, feeling how so much warmer he is compared to your blanket.

A cheeky smile tugged on your lips, your ice cold feet inching closer into his blanket, immediately feeling his heat.

Wanting more heat, you slipped both feet inside, brushing them against his feet.

He jumped at the cold feeling. "What's that thing!?" it wasn't Steven anymore, instead it was Marc now.

You snort. "That thing is my feet."

Marc turned to face you. "Shit, you're really catching a cold, huh?"

"No, my feet are just cold!" you argue, slipping your feet under Marc's.

Marc pulled his covers up and reached out to pull you close, bringing the covers back down over you. "Fine, let me warm you up."

You immediately melt into the heat he provided. "Much better, thanks."

He pulled you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you. "You know, you could have asked." he chuckled.

In mere seconds you were out cold thanks to the warmth.

Couple hours later you woke up to an empty bed. Feeling refreshed, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and sitting up.

The smell of vegetables was in the air, some herbs and even chicken.

Then the door opened and Jake came in.

"Ooh, getting sick now, sweetheart?"

You blinked confused at him. "Um? No?"

"Dry throat, stuffed nose and cold feet are a mean sign of catching a cold."

"But I'm feeling perfectly fine.."

Jake grins. "Until it comes back with a smack."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

He shrugged. "Precautions, sweetheart."

You smile. "Jake, I appreciate your offer but really, I'm feeling good." you said softly.

"No no no, you will thank us for it, trust me." Jake insisted.

Your nose was stuffed some more. "Pwease, don't work your asses off just because of me." you sniffled.

Jake grins again. "Mi amor, when our girl gets sick we of course do everything we can to get her well fast."

You sniffled again, pouting at him.

"Ay, we're just trying to prevent you from getting sick." Jake walked over to you to pinch your side playfully.

"Jake!" you threw an exaggerated pout, watching Jake proceeding to the door.

"You wait here, we bring everything when it's done!" he smirks over his shoulder before disappearing again.

About 10 minutes later, Jake returned with a plate of soup and steaming tea.

"Sit up sweetheart, you're getting fed." Jake smiled, putting the plate down on the nightstand, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Jake please, I feel awful with you pampering me." you chuckle.

"Ah-ah. No complaints." Jake playfully wagged his finger.

You sat up against the headboard. "The soup smells delicious." you smile.

Jake spooned up some soup, blowing a bit and moved it close to your lips. "Marc and I made the soup." Jake smirked.

Parting your lips, you leaned in a bit, allowing Jake to guide the spoon into your mouth. "You and Marc are a dangerous compilation." you chuckle as Jake moved the spoon out.

The herbs mixed with the vegetables hit your tastebuds, the chicken lingering in your mouth after swallowing.

Jake chuckles, "But it's good, huh?" he got another spoonful of soup to your lips.

"Delicious." you parted your lips, letting Jake feed you.

"Oh and Steven made the tea. Green tea." he grins, pulling the spoon out, spooning up soup again.

You made a face and parted your lips. "Ugh, green tea."

"Don't worry, he put honey in it so it won't taste that gross." he fed you again, then put the spoon down and got up.

"Now, eat that soup and drink the tea. And don't fool us, or you will get sick." Jake smiled, flicking your nose then left the room.

You ate the soup in peace, feeling warmed up well and full.

Later, Steven checked in on you, seeing the soup and tea already empty.

"All done, luv?" he smiled widely.

Nodding, you pulled the covers up your chin. "Yes, I already feel better, thanks." you smiled contently.

"That's wonderful. Now since you're feeling better, how 'bout we just lounge around on the couch, watch your favorite show?"

"Can we rewatch The Mandalorian?" you grin.

"Of course." Steven smiled.

You followed him into the living room, sitting down while Steven went into the kitchen.

When he came back, he brought some snacks and set everything up.

You immediately knew Marc was back.

He flipped the remote control in his hands as if it was a blaster, doing the same pose and motion of Mando shooting.

"Alright, who's ready for some Mando action?"

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

Taglist: @nekoyin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[holrye]

A love she can't have

summary: a window into the sacred nights of a small island kingdoms queen and her lover

tags: plot divergence, smut, fluff, light angst, yearning, implied chubby reader (section is tiny)

a/n: ahhhh, so I'm super nervous to post this, lol. Im not the most confident in my writing, and I've been working on the idea for this for so long. tbh I don't know if I like how it turned out. I made so many different versions, and this is the only one that stuck. I hope you guys like it :)

One night, every six or seven months, the estate of this small island kingdom is empty.

No bustling of maids and butlers as they prepare meals and clean. The orange hue of the lights inside are dimmed and the sheer curtains are often drawn.

A tradition, some would call it. Others would say it's strange. What could the young ruler do all to her lonesome up in that immense estate? Does she force her staff to leave for nefarious reasons? What secrets could she be hiding? All fair questions that will go unanswered for as long as you live. 

Privacy as the ruler of a nation is somewhat expected to wane upon your coronation. The kings and queens before you knew this, and were mindful of it. But never has a ruler taken so many precautions as you on these particular nights. These nights were often random to the public as well, the only sign being when the staff are ushered from the large french doors at the estates entrance. 

What could the diligent leader be cooping herself up for?

Oh, if they only knew…

If your people only knew that their queen was hiding a scandalous affair, with a pirate no less. What would people think? They’d say you’d gone insane, and were seduced by some horrid marauder. You’d lose every ounce of power you gained and be left to fend for yourself. Not a thing to your name other than the clothes on your back, they’d raid the estate and denounce you. 

So, these nights are secret. Whispers between you and your midnight guest that never leave the halls of the estate.

Though the guest in question is far less worried about the conspicuousness of your meetings. Not because he lacks care for your reputation, but because some would say he's a bit obtuse. A fool in love with someone he should never associate with.

-

You only become aware of his visits hours before he arrives, leaving you little time to fruitfully convince your entire staff to leave. Though it sounds unchallenging, your estate employs hundreds of people. Gardeners, chefs, handmaids, every task you could do yourself is done for you, mostly at the behest of your late mother who ruled before you. 

There's only so many excuses you can use without sounding suspicious. You want them to spend the night with their families or you’d like the estate to yourself or you had an awful mark on your back you didn’t want anyone to see as you bathed (that last one only made your head maid look at you worried). 

By now, they’d chalked it up to your eccentricity. The queen is just a bit strange. It made you more likable to some, relatable. There was little judgment, at least to your face, though that too was likely because of your rank. You cared little, as long as they were all gone before he blew in. 

He usually arrived just before midnight, his boat tied just off shore. A small cove sat behind your estate, sharp boulders and thick shrubbery concealing it. This is where he hides his vessel, only doing so after it was nearly found the morning after by a gardener. 

You scolded him harshly in your letters through the following months.

You’d wait on your bedroom balcony, watching the bushes. Sitting at the small table, eagerly stirring your cup of tea and waiting. Your feet are bare, cold from the breeze and the stone underfoot. 

The chill of soft trepidation is a feeling you’ve come to know since you met him. An almost nauseous feeling in your stomach, stiff cold limbs, a heavy chest. The months worth of built up suspense that has you on the edge, tempting you to jump.

Only when a hint of tanned skin is seen through the leaves, does your chest tighten. The bush moves again and his body pushes through, nearly falling to the grass. He catches himself before looking up to your balcony.

A smile stretches his freckled cheeks, and his feet are moving again.

You stand, gulping the last drink from your cup before hastily fixing yourself. Crickets and his heavy breaths as he climbs up the balcony are the only noise throughout the garden. It seemingly makes your heart pound faster, anticipation building in your belly. 

With a few more pulls, the man hops over the banister and stands before you. A shallow and shaky breath leaves your nose. Months of letters, declarations of love and yearning built up to this meeting. It always feels like the first time, standing before him in your frilly nightgown. It's embarrassing and euphoric all at once.

“Long time, no see.” His voice is soft, smile apparent as he speaks.

You smile up at him, blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hello, my love.” Your voice is softer than you mean it to be. He moves a step closer, and you notice the small bundle of letters in his hand. They’re addressed to him and the handwriting is your soft cursive. You question his purpose in bringing them, but don’t ask. 

“Have you eaten?” You ask. It’s a silly question now that you think about it, the man is known for his appetite.

He nods, still smiling as he moves closer again. His hand meets your arm, slowly sliding up to lay against your neck. The movement is soft, his thumb caressing your jaw as he looks at you. 

Your arms move to his shoulders, broad and strong. They slip to the back of his neck, dark, wet hair matting to your hand. He smells of salt water and sweat. He likely had to snow to shore due to high tide, which completely engulfed the cove most nights.

His eyes droop, as he presses a hungry kiss to your lips. It has you curling into him, his full hand meeting your hip. His feet start to move you backward, against the cold stone wall behind you. His hand moves from your jaw to the space beside your head, stealing your breath as he kisses you. Your hands twist into his hair, keeping him there until you both break with a gasp. 

He moves his hand to your lower back, pulling you into him again only for you to press a palm to his mouth. His eyebrows twist as he looks at you.

“I have some things inside for you.” You say, cocking your head to the left.

“Of course you do.” He smiles at you again.

-

Your bedroom, a large rounded room with a bed much too big for one, is lit with hundreds of candles. Two bottles of champagne sit unopened on the table in the middle of the room with two glasses sat to the side. An array of cheeses, bread and fruit sit on a plate to the side as well.

The bedspread is soft below you, your eyes glued to the liquid in the flute as you listen to Ace read your writing. Your hand wrapped around his wrist and your head rests against his hip as his voice nearly soothes you to sleep. You want to make a bed out of his tambre and sleep in it forever.

“I fear the selfishness I feel when you aren’t in my company. I cower at the thought of it boiling over and taking hold of me, interfering in my daily work. I yearn so much for the day I can be with you, freely, without the need to veil our flirtation. To think, I rule a nation as a queen. I wield power most only dream of, and yet I feel powerless in your absence. It nearly sickens me.” He pauses, looking at you over the parchment. 

“A kiss would satiate me for the time being. I soft kiss that speaks your tenor and goes by your name. I look forward to when we meet again, my love. May that heavenly time come soon.” He ends it by saying your signature out loud. He folds that paper again, placing it back in its envelope. 

The look on your face is melancholic, thinking back to the sadness you felt writing those letters to him. How much you missed him and what you would’ve done to see him at the time. It's embarrassing, listening to the heart you poured into the paper for him out loud.

He looks at you again, hand moving to the top of your head. He plays with the hair there, the comfortable silence taking the place of his voice.

“Is Edward well? I heard his health started declining again.” You ask, sipping from your glass again.

He nods, smile fading slightly as he speaks again.

“Yeah, the old man shouldn’t work himself as hard as he does. It's catching up to him.” Whitebeard was an acquaintance of your father, often meeting him for peace treaty signings. Even as a pirate, he’d earned your fathers respect.

“Hardworking as ever.” You smile.

He smiles as you sit up, finishing your glass off and setting it upon the bedside table. 

“You're one to talk, your highness.” He chuckles, extending his arm for you to lay against his chest.

“Ruling a kingdom is a lot of work. I do what I have to do. You’d think being a pirate, he’d use more of his free time being…free.” You say. A soft laugh leaves his chest as he nods his head.

“You’d think.” His voice evens out again as he looks down at you.

Your hand moves to cup his cheek, holding it there for a moment. It’s warm. Everything about Ace is. Whether it be his devil fruit or his personality. He warms your heart in a way you’ve never felt before. It makes it harder when you have to watch him leave, his broad form disappearing in the bushes. You’d say goodbye to him with tears in your eyes as he kissed your lips and abandon that warmth until you saw him again.

“You're so beautiful.” You don’t mean to say it out loud, biting your lip when your mouth speaks before you catch yourself. His lips quirk, eyes half-massed as he gazes at you.

“I could say the same about you, sweetheart.” He chuckles.

The room goes quiet again.

He takes your hand in his, pressing your palm to his lips. It's soft and he keeps moving up your arm, to your shoulder. He pauses a moment before looking at you again. 

“Is this okay?” He asks, kissing your shoulder again. A blush brightens your cheeks. You know what he's asking.

With a dry swallow, you nod and he smiles for the millionth time tonight. He climbs on top of you, moving from your collar bone up to your neck. Your hands move to his head, grasping the hair there at the sensation. He kisses the section just below your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

A throaty chuckle falls from him as he starts his descent of your body. A kiss pressed to your collarbone, a kiss to your sternum, a kiss to your belly, it's all too much. His hands meet your hips, bunching the fabric of your dress slightly. He moves down, pressing soft kisses to the middle of your thighs.

“You're so soft.” He says, smiling into your sensitive skin. You sigh, wanting nothing more than for him to ravish you like he’s done so many times before. His hands bunch at the end of your skirt, slowly pulling it up inch by tantalizing inch. It's enough anticipation to make you sick. 

He raises the hem to your hips, your lacy undergarments showing. You sit up as he pulls it off of you, your breasts bouncing as they fall. He kisses your lips again, before laying you down on the bed again. Your knees press together, a familiar warmth swirling through your gut and into your core.

His hands land on your hips, softly squeezing the skin that lightly hangs over your panties. Your breath catches when he kneels at the edge of your bed, looping his fingers into your underwear and slipping them down your thighs.

He exhales loudly, seemingly holding his breath before. He takes your knees over his shoulders, nipping at the fat of your thighs. A long stripe from your inner thigh to your groin has you shaking. His hands move to yours scrunched up in the blankets, lacing your fingers together.

A slow lick to your clit leaves you breathless, eyes shutting as you squeeze his hands. 

“You taste so good.” it's muffled by your skin, but you understand him. He licks you again, softly sucking your clit into his mouth. 

His mouth is so warm and wet, it has you in a euphoric state. This feeling only he can give you, one that you want to feel forever. Making love to Ace felt otherworldly, no matter how many times you did it.

“Ace..ah-” Your voice is caught in your throat, his tongue moving down to your hole.

“Yes, my love?” His tone is mocking, as if demanding you answer him. Your lips are raw, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth as you try to speak.

Words fail you, one of your hands moving from his, to his head. Leverage.

He hums into you, slipping his tongue in and out of you a few times before replacing it with his finger. His mouth moves back to your clit and your seeing stars, the blinding white matching the pace of the growing knot in your stomach.

“Ace-” You sigh as your muscles tense up. Your orgasm hits you in waves, leaving your thighs shaking around his face. He sucks the soft skin around your pussy as you come down, hands moving to your thighs.

“Mm, baby…” He says, his voice hoarse as he moves up to your face. Your skin is sticky, hair sticking to your face and palms sweating. He kisses you, the heady taste of yourself on his tongue. Your hands move to his face, draping your arms around his neck.

With little hesitation, he reaches for the buckle of his shorts, dropping them and climbing on top of you. You lift your legs, wrapping them around his hips. 

“You ready?” He asks, and you nuzzle your nose into his. With a huff, he’s pushing in and the both of you sigh loudly at the contact. His movements start slow, smooth.

His hips meet yours and your eyes go white. His hand rests next to your head, his thrusts making his bicep flex a bit. It makes you drool, pressing a kiss to his wrist as he evens out his pace.

“You feel so good…hah-” His breathing is erratic and his other hand moves to the fold of your knee. Your head falls back, moans leaving you otherwise speechless. It feels so good, you can’t move.

His pace picks up, quickening as both of you approach your highs. Your breathing is stunted and your eyes are clenched shut. Ace moves his face to the crook of your neck, licking a strip up to your chin. Everything is perfect.

“I love you.” You say, looking him in the eyes. You swear you feel his cock throb inside you.

“I love you too, your highness.” He smirks.

With two or three deep thrusts, he’s finishing inside you. You scream, voice breaking when you finally cum again. He thrusts a couple more times, only pulling out when his cock stops throbbing. Your pussy clenches around nothing, his cum dripping out of you onto the pristine sheets. 

He falls into the empty space next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as you clench your thighs together again. The aftershocks leave you drowsy and you roll in to his chest, drifting to sleep.

-

You don’t wake again until the early morning the next day. Ace is awake, his warm hands brushing through your hair. Your eyes scrunch at the brightening horizon before looking back at him.

“You sleep ok?” He asks.

You nod, kissing his jaw before rising to stretch. He rubs a hand down your back and gets out of bed.

Mornings after he visits are melancholy, knowing the inevitable has come to pass yet again. He’ll leave you for another period of time unknown to him or you. Your letters will be the only form of communication you'll have for months. It’s all a bit too much to bear.

You rise, hugging him from behind as he puts his clothes back on. Freckles decorate his back and shoulders and you want to count every one of them.

Before you know it, you stand looking up at him on your balcony wrapped in a sheet. His kiss is as warm as ever, not wanting to leave. You hold him there for a while, tears nearly forming in your eyes already.

“I’ll see you soon.” You nearly whimper. He wipes your eyes with his thumbs, smiling at you. 

“I’ll keep you in my thoughts, my love.” He smiles and you remember your gift you still have to give him.

“Wait!” You say, scurrying inside and grabbing a small locket off of your vanity. You hand it to him, and he opens it.

“Keep it close to your heart.” You say. The picture inside is of you, and it warms his heart. A smile creases his eyes as kisses you again. He kisses your cheeks and your forehead as the sun starts to show over the horizon.

“I love you.” He says, slowly stepping back and over the banaster. You reach your hands out one last time, cupping his face and kissing him before he climbs down and runs through the garden. 

With one final wave and kiss to his palm, he disappears into the greenery.

-

No one knows why the queen hides herself away certain nights of the year. Maybe shes up to nefarious activities. Maybe she does have secrets. 

Maybe she's just in love with someone she can’t have.

[merlinssassybeard]

'Ex' husband Gojo - The Aftermath- 01

Tags- self harm, miscarriage, mention of cheating

Synopsis- A look at reader's mental state after the entire ordeal with Gojo.

Part 3 // series masterlist

The maid was just about to enter the private chambers of Lady Y/n to pick up the dishes before she stopped in her tracks and started eavesdropping the conversation...

"Taking pills...precautions...pregnancy...we should divorce.....i...carry children......Satoru..."

These were the words she heard. It was as if the ground shifted from beneath her feet. What she heard was the news of the century.

It didn't take her long to run back to her servants quarters and spread the word...

The Gojo household staff comprises of only five women, one is an attendant of yours and two male out of which one is head staff of the household.

All the servants started gossiping about the matter. It didn't take them long to call their friend servants in other big and small households.

In no time the news of The Gojo Satoru and Y/n, the window (as everybody loved to call you in jujutsu society), Divorcing and supposed pregnancy spread like a deadly wild fire...

Satoru was busy in his mission in Seoul, he had no idea of anything and was scheduled to be back in time for the New Year's Eve Party.

An evening event held at the Gojo Clan's Estate which is attended by illustrious people from both sorcerers to non sorcerers backgrounds.

From Japanese Royal family and aristocrats families, The Zenins, The Kamo, The Council of the Higher ups and every other Clans to J-pop stars, actors, models, polticians, wtiters and whoever not!

The Event is a private Party where red carpets and paparazzis are not allowed but the event's pictures sure find their way to Page 6 each year. Displaying the lavish lives of the noble families of Japan.

For the last 4 years, as the Lady of the Gojo Clan, you hosted this lavish party at the main Gojo Estate. Before you, it was your mother in law.

For someone who comes from an average lower middle class family, you have quite the taste in decor, food, fashion, art and knowledge on hosting parties, qualities that are a must for a Wife of high and Noble stature.

Satoru's mother and the entire Clan was very reluctant to have you in the family. She was against this marriage but Satoru being Satoru, her only son and a total mama's boy, she couldn't get herself to say no.

After your marriage, you both, newlyweds, were living in the main estate but after 5 to 6 months Satoru decided to shift to a new house where both of you will start your newly wedded life.

Your mother in law had accepted you in the family after she got to know you and as a gesture wanted you to stay as she wanted to be the"first to get the news of her grandchildren" verbatim.

Every Clan head's wife has a special personal attendant who lives with them in the household. They are supposed to look after the wife as their lady companion, the woman they could rely on.

You too had one, Mrs Kori.

Mrs Kori was your assigned attendant. But she did not lived with you in the same house. You had allowed her to live with her own family, unlike other wives. She only attended official family Events with you as a part of her duty. You have a semi-formal relationship with her.

30th December, 2016

It was about time for the New Year's Event.

Previously, you would enthusiastically start preparations a month prior, considering it is not a small tea party rather a big event where everyone has their eyes on you as you are The Host.

You would rush at the Gojo Estate and get started with placing orders for flowers, preparing the huge garden for guests, writing invitations and a million other decorations. Your mother in law would watch and suggest or support you every now and then since she's been doing this for over 30 years.

But this time, which would have been your fifth year, it was all gloomy.

Satoru's mother was very concerned regarding the both of you. She noticed how this year you didn't celebrate her only lovely son's birthday neither did you began any planning for the Party.

She wanted to come to see what's gotten onto you but couldn't as she took back the reins of organizing the evening party. Although she did let you know through one her servants that she's taken over.

You on the other hand, wanted to recover from everything that has been going on.

Its LIFE afterall. And life is like a river, you cannot stop moving just like that. Moving forward through all the obstacles, IS life.

Your head was convincing you with all motivation it could but your heart just wanted to hold onto the little snow globe containing an Eiffel Tower, one of Satoru's souvenirs that you found by your bed, just sitting in a corner few days ago.

You were aware about the New Year's Event but you just couldn't get yourself out of bed let alone be out of the house and organize a large scale star studded event. All because of everything going on and that day... 25th of December.

You did something which you shouldn't have... a very horrendous action, a very lowly act indeed.

You wanted to go out and free your mind and to prepare yourself to look normal for the new year crowd. The first interaction with people besides your staff since the whole fiasco with your husband went down.

Your friends from the office you worked with before quitting and marrying Gojo, had called you in for Christmas drinks evening. You went and had drinks but later it took turn for the worse when you went to the house of one of your male co-workers who had a crush on you, and spent the night...

In the days following after spilling the entire ordeal to Shoko, you started developing a weird and concerning 'obsession'...

It started accidentally though but eventually you liked it or simply found it better as a 'punishment' for your actions.

It was just an innocent scratch when the glass fell on the ground and shattered and hurt your knee. But slowly, it took a darker turn and you would start to 'scratch' with a razor on your inner thighs.

It didn't take long when you would just think about that night of 25th December while in a bathtub filled with water and you trying to drown yourself in it only to rush out and slit your wrists with the razor in anger and frustration.

It felt weirdly... nice?

@sindela @dazai-gojo-kinnie @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @Enaaneaen @sweet-almond @Angel_🫶🏻@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0peful @kugisakinobarades @witchbybirth @nineooooo @ssc7514 @Hana-patata @blue_spices @haikyuubiggestsimp @urstepmom69 @hueneve @chayunwoo@waosobii @nadzhaf @yoriichiswife @tiltraumadouspart @kirschtein123 @whoisobsessed @Asala @ashthemadwriter @remnirris @svm666 @voidsatoru @staygoldsquatchling02 @dunnowhy-m @nnasv @violetmatcha @dummyf @Noblog @Littledemoness15 @shaiah @iluv-ace @mmeerraa @angellyah @0bakuzan @waxhers @chanelmalandro @shoutobrainrot @narutosolosurfav @Kei-b-gurlll @🫶🏼 @angrydaughter @Screw-aebi@asdfghjkl7things @kodzukenwhore @gabile18 @bollockswhy @pelicanpizza@electro-supremacy @Zatannaswifeblog@spam-and-eggs @guenievresworld @b0scuit@aliventboo @marit332 @bbylime @ieathairs @hells-escapees @no-name222

Apologies if i forgot to add your blog

AN- There's a 2nd part to this chapter, which will be released after few corrections. Thank you for your support and patience.

[unluckiestmember]

Arcane x innocent reader? Like someone who is a literal angel?

Of course! Coming up!

Arcane X Innocent! Reader

Characters: Jinx, Vi, Viktor, Caitlyn Kiramman, Vander, Silco, Ekko, Sevika, Jayce Talis and Mel Medarda.

Tags: Fluff, established relationship, Jayce being Jayce, Jinx being Jinx, overprotectiveness, innocence and reputations trying to be kept.

Warning: None. SFW.

A/N: I adore innocent readers and OCs! I feel they have a way of bringing out the true nature of characters, especially with this kind of cast! Also sorry to everyone for taking so long, I unfortunately have a chaotic and no good life. XD

Jinx

“Hey, toots! How has ya day been? Did you miss me?! Of course you did! Come here, you cute little bunny!”

You are Jinx’s little bunny! She loves how innocent you are for someone who hangs out with her, and in a way, you keep her grounded. You are the sunshine in this dark unforgiving world. Usually she loves destroying things and making others lives harder to live.

But when it comes to you? She is extra careful. She never lets you go on missions or patrol unless she’s with you. You’re in her hideout? She’s doing safety precautions by forcing you to wear a welding mask or staying six feet away from her projects. And unless they are little trinkets and presents for you, you can’t exactly touch them unless she assists you with them. You are a porcelain doll in her eyes. She doesn’t want you to break or become corrupted at all. She’s you’re protector and your lover and she won’t let you forget that.

Violet "Vi"

“Do you know how cute you are? You’re adorable… Hey, don’t hide that face from me, I mean it. You’re adorable.”

Vi is known to be a hardass sometimes to people, but around you? She lets her true colors come out. She’s super affectionate physically and verbally, telling you how much she loves you and cherishes you. If anyone was to hurt you, she’s not just breaking their nose, she’s breaking their entire body. You are so precious. Maybe too precious to her.

She always rushes from work back home just to cuddle with you and ask how your day was. And don’t get her started on your bashful nature, she adores it so much since you only get that way around her. Does she wish you could stand up for yourself? Sometimes. But for the most part, she’s okay with it, especially since she can protect the both of you. To everyone else, she’s a wild card with muscle and snark. But to you and only you, she’s perfect.

Viktor

“Rodnaya. Did you fix my calculations?... Please, don’t fret- I’m not angry. I’m just wondering… What did I do to deserve you?”

Viktor thinks you are make believe. There is no way someone as sweet as you should exist. How can you be so in love with someone like him? He believes he can never give you what you want or need, but whenever you assure him he can, his spirits are lifted and his confidence gets a significant boost.

Whenever you are around, you make Viktor feel he can make all the progress in the world no matter what anyone says. You make him feel a little more comfortable in his skin, which is nice. But even better is the fact that because of you, he tries his best to exercise self love. This can come in the form of taking a few breaks from his project and treating himself whenever he makes a huge accomplishment. Viktor cherishes you so much and he hopes you know that no matter how nose deep he can be in work.

Caitlyn Kiramman

“Good afternoon, my darling. I didn’t keep you waiting, did I? Let me make it up to you… You’re too sweet, but I insist.”

Because of how innocent you are, Caitlyn sometimes compares you to an angel. She finds you to be a bit pure and needs to be protected. Though unlike Vi, her protective nature is more tamed. She’ll prefer protecting you with her words, choosing to ask questions regarding your well being. But if you are in physical danger, she has no problem jumping to your aid with her gun in hand to scare those who hurt you away.

You mean a lot to her and she’ll show you by inviting you to places or showing you the many gardens in Piltover. Of course, she’s not without having more personal evenings together at home, cuddled together and enjoying each other’s company. All in all, she loves you and she’s not afraid to tell or show you that.

Silco

“This life. One of hardship and poverty, is not one that you deserve. I promise, I’ll grant Zaun its independence. For all of us. For you.”

If Silco is the king of Zaun, you are his king/queen. It’ll take a while for you to get close to him because of the locks he usually has around his heart. But if you are able to cut them off with time and effort, Silco will treat you as if you are royalty. Expect him to show you off to those around you, whether it be you sitting on his lap or standing by his side.

That being said, do not expect him to shower you in kisses and snuggle up to your body. He has an image to hold, so the last thing he needs to hear from his men is that he’s gotten soft and mushy. Around them and under the eyes of Zaun, you are just his second half. But behind closed doors? You are more like his life. Just make sure you don’t tell anyone.

Ekko

“Damn, the light here really knows how to bring the beauty out of you. Are you sure you’re not an angel in disguise?”

You and Ekko have a pretty chill relationship. You’re his lover and he’s yours for the most part. He’s not overprotective, but he can have moments of being a helicopter boyfriend. You’re going on a mission? Take Scar with you. You want to go into Zaun to get something? Why doesn't he tag along to help? You would bring it up to him that you don’t always need someone with you, but your bashful nature makes it a little hard. So unless another firelight realizes what’s going on, be prepared to not go many places alone.

Outside of the following, Ekko is for the most part considerate of you and what you want. You can always find him asking you what you desire or need from him and even if you try not to answer, he will subtly find ways to get most of the unspeakable answers. 

Sevika

“Hey, we can… Cuddle later, okay? Right now, my crew is here and I don’t want to ruin my reputation.”

Compared to Silco, Sevika is more open in her relationship with you. She’ll tell everyone that you are her lover and in her own way be proud of it. That being said, she tries not to show a lot of PDA in hopes of protecting her reputation and mainly yourself. In her mind, if her group or anyone finds out you mean a lot to her, you can become a prime suspect in future kidnappings or blackmail. And she doesn’t want that for herself nor for you.

Outside of work, Sevika makes up for having to be a little distant with you. She’ll take you gambling with her and if you don’t prefer that, you guys can always hang out somewhere else. As long as you are content and safe is what matters. Sevika’s a good girlfriend, very protective. Just don’t expect her to be super verbal with her love, she prefers actions over words. But do be on the look out for a lot of teasing.

Vander

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself from picking you up, you’re too cute... Screw it, you’re all mine.”

Vander is a big ol’ teddy bear when it comes to loving you. He doesn't care if anyone at the bar comments on your relationship with him because he will waste no time picking you and showing you off like a trophy. He talks about you almost nonstop if he’s not talking about work or affairs occurring in Zaun.

When it comes to his affairs with Piltover, he makes sure you are nowhere near it. In his eyes, you are too precious to get in the middle of anything affiliated with them. Not to mention, he wouldn’t be the same if somehow you got hurt or worse. The kids need you and so does he, because with you in their lives, they feel like a complete family. You hold the hound down on a leash and he loves you for that.

Mel Medarda

“You know what? After I’m done with meetings at work, we’re doing whatever you want. How’s that sound?... Come on now, love. You have to speak up.”

When it comes to Mel, conversation is key. Which is why your relationship can feel like a relationship, but also like a class. She pushes you to speak for yourself in many situations, but doesn’t force it upon you. It’s not that she hates how innocent and bashful you can be, she just doesn’t want that to be used against you or for other’s personal gain. So if she can shape you up to speak for yourself just a tiny bit, that will make her content.

Regardless though, she enjoys your company, especially after stressful days working with the council. In a way, you two kind of act like a married couple, having an unspeakable bond, but a loving one nonetheless. 

Jayce Talis

“Yeah, the meeting was great!... Okay, fine, I skipped it- But can you blame me? Why would I want to rehash work when I could be here with you?”

If you were a dog owner, Jayce would be that golden retriever that gives you a run for your money, but makes you feel intense happiness. Every day is always something new with this man because he will give you a run for your money due to how hyper he is when he gets a new idea. Also he’s very loving around you, wanting to spend as much time with you as he can.

Though, he’s no Jinx. He knows that the both of you have lives and duties to fulfill. So he’ll give you space. But not for long. Just be ready to be working or relaxing when Jayce pops up out of nowhere to check up on you. If you forget your lunch, he’s going to deliver it to you. Forgot paperwork? He’s already on it, all you need to do is check for numerous errors. Everyone knows how you feel to date Jayce; It’s a wild ride, but a fun one that’s worth it.

Arcane requests are currently open! :D

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, be safe and have a good day! <3

[theemporium]

Omg please I've been craving eastablished relationship sirius x fem!reader fluff I feel like i've read through the entire tag

What about rockstar!sirius who misses reader and is moping so james and remus set up a surprise and fly her out to a show and she's standing at the baracade and sirius sees her and like jumps off the stage to go to her?

i love rockstar!sirius my beloved<3 thank you for requesting!!

.

To be frank, Sirius Black had been insufferable for the last two months.

When the band had been touring around the UK and Europe, you were able to join them at most, if not all, shows. Sirius loved having you by his side, knowing that one of his favourite people on the planet was with him whilst he did something he loved. And you loved watching your boy thrive in his element. 

However, when the tour moved to North America, you were unable to follow. 

Despite his insistence that he had more than enough money to take care of you both (and let you be his full time favourite groupie), he knew how much your degree meant to you and he wouldn’t ever want you to drop your dreams when you supported his so much. So, you had stayed in the UK to continue your education. 

And Sirius was downright miserable with the distance between you.

Not that anyone would notice. To the world, Sirius Black was still going out on stage and performing like every show was his last. He was a rockstar through and through, and the world fell in love with him a little more with each performance. 

But to his bandmates? They had nothing but constant whining and complaining and moping that Sirius didn’t have his girl by his side. And, to be honest, James and Remus had reached their wit’s end. They could deal with a lot, but two months of it?

No. They knew they needed to do something.

It wasn’t hard to convince you at all to fly over and visit for a short leg of the North America tour. You had been just as miserable without your boy back home. The apartment felt empty without him. And his guitars were a little dusty, which was a sight you weren’t used to. And having one side of the bed constantly cold, with his scent long faded from the pillows, it was starting to take a toll on you.

You packed a bag and made your way to the airport without a second thought, landing in Michigan the day of their show. 

“This is ridiculous.”

Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s just a precaution.”

“Remus, you want me to get into a suitcase,” you deadpanned, wondering if the tour had finally driven him over the edge. “I am going to suffocate in there!”

“You won’t,” James reassured you with a bright grin. “We’ve done it plenty of times. Plus, it’s just until we can get you into the venue without fans seeing and spoiling the surprise.” 

And you knew he had a point. 

The boys didn’t just want to fly you over and throw you at Sirius. No, they wanted to surprise him, completely knock the air out of his lungs. They didn’t want some lame reunion in a hotel room before he was rushed off onto stage and you were forced to stand backstage until the set ended. 

Go big or go home, and the marauders always chose the former. 

It was why you agreed to get in the suitcase, staying in the cramped space until you reached the venue. It was why you agreed to wear the oversized hoodie, despite standing amongst the fans in the ridiculously hot crowd. It was why you agreed to keep your disguise up until the first few songs passed. 

And then, you threw the hood off your head and you gripped the edge of the barricade as you looked up at the stage, as you looked up at your boyfriend and took in the sight of him for the first time in two months. The tight trousers fitted around his thick thighs, the leather jacket exposing his bare and tattooed torso, the sweat gleaming like a thin layer on his skin and the messy black hair that you missed running your fingers through.

Fuck, you missed your boyfriend.

Sirius lifted his head to look away from his fretboard, his eyes on the crowd as he played the opening riff to the next song, only to stop short when he noticed a familiar face in the crowd. He blinked once, and then twice to make sure it was really you. And by that point, security couldn’t even stop him as he shrugged his guitar off and shoved it into the hands of whoever was closest to him before he hopped off the stage and made a beeline towards you. 

The crowd was going wild as they watched him, the cameras were capturing every moment but you couldn’t care less as Sirius made his way to the barricade, grabbing your face and smashing his lips against yours. It was sloppy, messy and a little desperate, and probably far too much with so many eyes on you but Sirius never really cared about any of that stuff anyways.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, love,” Sirius murmured before he leaned in for another kiss and another and another. And when that wasn’t enough, he all but dragged you over the barricade, grinning wildly when you clung onto him.

“Sirius!” you gasped, your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands rested on your ass.

“God, I missed hearing you scream my name,” he muttered, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he watched you flush at his comment.

“You have a show to perform,” you murmured, nodding your head towards the stage. “I can wait.”

“Well, I can’t,” Sirius told you. “C’mon, let’s go back to the tour bus—”

“Sirius,” you laughed, though there was a hint of warning in your voice which he recognised. “Show first, then sex.”

Sirius grinned cheekily. “Promise?” 

“Promise,” you smiled, leaning down and he pouted his expecting another kiss, only for your lips to brush against his ear instead. “Plus, I want us to have all the time in the world when you see the little surprise I got for you.”

Sirius gulped. “Surprise?” 

“Got ‘em done just before you left,” you told him and his spine straightened in realisation. “Should be healed enough for you to play with them.”

“Show me.”

“Sirius—”

“Baby, show me or so help me, I will lose my mind,” Sirius groaned. 

But you just laughed, patting his cheek as you told him there wasn’t a chance in the world you were going to flash your tits in front of everyone. He groaned as you began untangling yourself from him, making your way backstage where you would watch the rest of the show. Sirius glared at you and your stomach twisted in anticipation. 

“Good luck, baby! Knock ‘em dead!” 

.