#lila x john

[itsnotmourn]

is there a shipname for lila x john? i gotta make a stimboard of them

- @catsockpuppet

Not sure if there’s a common fandom ship name yet but my chart has LavenderSmoke or Smokeylilacs! ^^

[rafeyssugar]

hard launch ²

rafe cameron x black reader

y/n isn’t new to breaking the internet. she’s done it before—plenty of times. but this? this is different.

because this time, rafe is in the picture.

literally.

her phone buzzes non-stop, the comments stacking up like wildfire. the internet is losing its mind, dissecting every second of that clip—the way his hands move, the way he grips, the way he just knows her.

it’s all too easy to ignore. that is, until she sees his name in her notifications.

@rafe.cameron reposted your video.

her stomach drops.

“rafe.” she twists around in his lap, staring up at him. he barely looks away from the screen, fingers moving deftly over his controller.

“mm?”

“why did you repost it?”

he smirks, eyes flickering down at her before he focuses back on his game. “'cause i wanted to.”

she glares. “that’s not an answer.”

he hums, fingers flexing against her thighs, dragging his thumbs up and down in slow, lazy strokes. “you worried about people knowing you’re mine, baby?”

y/n’s lips part, breath catching slightly. he always does this—says things like that, casual and confident, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“you are mine, y’know,” he continues, tilting his head at her, all teasing and cocky. “not like it’s a secret.”

she huffs, crossing her arms. “you’re annoying.”

his smirk deepens. “yeah? but you love me.”

she rolls her eyes, trying to shift off his lap, but he doesn’t let her, arms wrapping tight around her waist.

and then her phone buzzes again.

@rafe.cameron: girlfriend.

➝ THE HANDS. THE TOUCH. THE SOFTNESS. WE ARE NOT OKAY. ➝ y’all better not break up bc i’m INVESTED. ➝ she got rafe cameron in a soft grip. i fear she’s too powerful. ➝ @rafe.cameron: i been gone. she been had me.

➝ @sarah.cameron: welcome to the family, y/n 🤍 (rafe is insufferable; sorry in advance.) ➝ @pope.heyward: historical moment. might put this in my thesis. ➝ @rafe.cameron: y’all act like this wasn’t obvious. be serious. ➝ @johnb.routledge: obvious? bro, you just told the whole world 😭

➝ COMMENTS DISABLED.

her jaw drops.

“rafe—”

but he’s already grinning, looking so smug, so pleased with himself, and she hates that she can’t even be mad about it.

not when his hands are on her. not when his lips find her neck. not when he’s whispering, all soft and knowing—

"s’bout time, huh?"

a/n: im fucking in love with this

[digitulart]

au time,,, first one is Carrie and the rest is the opposite au

[disxcoartz]

very late valentines post cuz I may have forgotten to post these on here. but thas okay. GO MY YAOI AND YURI

[97keanu]

desperately wanting john wick to whisper filthy things to me in russian

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳I love this idea nonnie ! I have decided to do a list of phrases I've found + what scenario John would say them to you, disclaimer: I do not speak Russian, but I've tried to go beyond using just Google translate and the like, but there still may be discrepancies, please forgive ʚ♥︎ɞ

Tags/CW: rope bunny, Dom!JW, Sub!Reader, bratty!reader, bdsm-esque, reader tries to Dom JW, reader on top, teasing, denial, dirty talk.

Зайка моя ("My bunny"): John calls you this the most, he loves the idea of you being his little bunny, and he also likes that he can get away with calling you something so cute because you have no idea at first what he's saying. Light teasing from you when you find out he's been calling you his "bunny" for so long:

"Oh, so if I'm your little bunny, does that make you the big bad wolf?" You say with a smile, teasing John for his pet name for you.

"Oh yes, yes it does..." John plays along, moving close enough to you that he grab you from behind and pull you close.

"Don't forget that wolves bite, Зайка моя..." His teeth nibble at your neck before dragging you, who's giggling from all the attention, off to the bedroom.

мое солнышко ("My sunshine"): John calls you this after sex the most, or only in the most tender of cases. He really does believe you are his own personal ball of sun. He hasn't felt this happy in so long, and upon meeting you, he knows that you are the light in his life. John doesn't mind if you know it, either. He calls you his sun in English as well, but when you two are cuddled up, the night settling in, John will sleepily call you "мое солнышко".

моя принцесса ("My princess"): John uses this one almost exclusively when you're being a brat, typically in bed. He calls you this half sarcastically, half because he really will do anything to please you.

"What are you going to do, make me, John?" You tease him when he tries to command you. You really shouldn't have done that.

"Careful, моя принцесса, you know what happens when you tease me." Johns voice is trying to be gruff, but he also loves seeing you have fun. Only after a few more bratty comments does he finally show his princess how she really needs to be treated.

шлюха ("whore") / шлюшка(diminutive "little whore"): John uses this one often, forgetting himself while he's fucking you. You know this one too well, and when he says it, you love how degrading it sounds. He tells you most while he holds the back of your head roughly down on his cock how much you look like a "шлюшка" to him. He eventually teaches you how to say it as well:

"I won't let you cum until you tell me what you are..." John has his hands skillfully playing with your pussy while you're all tied up in a little bow for him on the bed. You know what he wants, but don't want to give in. His hands move just perfectly so you get so close, but stop just before then. Your moans echo through the room.

"I'll wait, we can play this game forever, love." John knows you know this to be true, he works his big hands inside you harder now, and you can barely sputter the phrase out.

"Yes, please! I'm your шлюха, your шлюшка!" You cry out as John finishes you, your body writhing in it's restraints. John looks so pleased with you for saying it correctly.

"Good girl." He says as he begins to help you calm down.

Для меня ты ведешь себя как маленькая шлюха ("You're acting like such a little whore for me." Literally: "To me, you are acting like a little whore.")

John says this when you're particularly submissive to him. Sometimes you're a bit of a brat who wants to act like she doesn't love being John's little rope bunny, but now you're practically begging him to fuck you. You're riding his thigh, he's fully clothed but you've taken your panties off from under your dress and are making such a mess of his nice dress pants. He watches you, never revealing whether or not he will be the one to please you tonight.

"Для меня ты ведешь себя как маленькая шлюха..." He says while rolling his eyes, taking a sip of his drink and watching as you desperately try to get off on his thigh. He finally caves and puts his glass down on the side table, lifting you up and taking you to the couch where he can properly fuck you.

я хочу быть сверху("I want to be on top."):

You spend some time searching up the perfect way to tell John that you want to be on top tonight. You know he will be coming home from a long day and want to do something to please him. The brat in you also knows that John will be thrilled at you attempting "superiority" over him. When John finally gets home, he is immediately taking off his suit, ignoring how dirty and blood stained it is. He grabs you as soon as he sees you, pulling you to the nearest surface he can to fuck you, which happens to be the couch. As John's devouring your body in kisses, you say it.

"я хочу быть сверху..." You whisper and John pauses, looking at you in disbelief for a moment. First, he is impressed by how well you said the phrase, then his eyes darken with a hint of mischief.

"So you want to be on top..." He says slyly, licking his lips like a hungry wolf. "So be it, let me see how well you think you can dominate me."

"You mean it?" Your eyes light up, half of you didn't expect him to agree.

"On one condition, if you fail to fuck me correctly, I will tie you up and show you how it's done..." His voice is deep and husky with desire, and you know he's setting you up, but the idea of him tying you up later doesn't sound like a bad thing, not really. You nod and begin placing yourself on top, slowly easing up there.

You hold his cock still as you softly let it enter you, and John already has a wicked gleam in his eyes. You keep going, placing your hands on his chest and trying to ride him as if you're the one dominating him, but even at your best on top you're still submitting to his cock. John grabs his tie from the floor and you already know what he is going to do, so you place your hands out in front of you. He ties your hands up, then takes your hips and fucks you from underneath so hard the neighbors can hear it. You realise you can never dominate him, but that doesn't stop you from asking to be on top from time to time after this.

Я ХОЧУ ТЕБЯ ВНУТРИ МЕНЯ("I want you inside me.")

You learn another phrase, this one more your style. John is teasing you once more, his cock hard and slipping through your wet folds, but never entering you. You're whining, grinding your hips and bucking to try to invite him in, but your arms are all tied up behind you. He has your breasts tied as well, bringing them to perfect roundness. John reaches out and plays with your nipples, plucking at them and pulling just how you like, still not letting you feel the fullness of his cock. You are at your breaking point when you remember the phrase.

"Я ХОЧУ ТЕБЯ ВНУТРИ МЕНЯ...!" You finally moan, your back arching and your toes curling from how badly you want it. John pauses and smiles.

"Oh, you're such a good girl for asking like that." he says, before plunging his cock deep inside you, giving you what you want. You breathe out, finally able to be fucked hard like you wanted.

[jbwashere]

I wanted to combine two of my interests together^^

Bonus characters as pokemon!

[skeletalsky]

oomf reminded me they exist. had to draw them

bonus:

[pocketmania]

💀🎃 ; Lottie's Spooky Month Masterlist

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

♨ "Got Candy?" (Bad lol)

Summary ✦ Skid and Pump come home from trick or treating. (☁️)

♨ "My Dear Dad"

Summary ✦ The Reader is in the cult with their father, Skidad. (☁️)

♨ "7:00 A.M."

Summary ✦ The Reader comforts Kevin after his nightmare. (💏❤️‍🩹)

♨ "Radford Relationship Headcanons"

Summary ✦ Headcanons about Radford dating the Reader. (💏)

♨ "Dexter Relationship Headcanons"

Summary ✦ Headcanons Dexter Erotoph dating the Reader. (👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨)

♨ "Streber Relationship Headcanons"

Summary ✦ Headcanons about Streber dating the Reader. (👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✦ Back to Intro Post.

[spookyskidy]

HEY CHAT. LAST PART OF IM NOT YOUR SON IS OUT!!!!

BTW THIS ISNT THE END OF THE SERIES. JUST THE END OF THIS FIC :3

[the-feral-gremlin]

Hc that John Diggle was third wheeling Olicity so hard he probably made Oliver third wheel him and Lila.

Diggle would drag Lila to the bunker when he could (though he mostly did it to get her out of her office bc she needs a break.) and they’d flirt with each other or fall asleep on one of the old Queen Consolidated office chairs that Oliver stole, while Oliver trained or did paperwork. Oliver has a million embarrassing photos of Lila and Diggle while Diggle has a million embarrassing photos of Olicity.

Felicity just has a million embarrassing photos of both of them 💀 She sends them to Lila when she can.

[itsnotmourn]

Hi, again Bob x Kevin = DevilCandy Bob x Shotgun = MeatCanyon Radford x Candy Dealer = PiratedFilm Lila x John = LavenderVape/LavenderSmoke John x Shotgun = GunSmoke Lila x Mort = LavenderMeds

This is all I came up with on the spot. I couldn't stop laughing at the MeatCanyon one. have a nice day^^

WOAAA TYSM FOR THE LIST !! adding them soon!

ohh if i had to choose one favourite, I think i like PiratedFIlm the most! but all of them are VERY nice and simple!! /pos

and also MEATCANYON ??? if i'm thinking the same way you're thinking, then oh my god that's a smart and funny name HAHA

[eunchancorner]

Random shit ft the WC crossover au, go

No one really knew where Giantstrike was from.

The first memory anyone ever had of him was when Holysnow found him wandering around outside of camp. It had been a clear, quiet, frankly boring day and the medicine cat had been looking for something to do, so he’d gone out to gather herbs, stumbling upon a kit nearly the size of him. The only reason he recognized the kit as such was because his paws seemed a bit too big and his ears a bit too fuzzy.

He had half a mind to leave the giant kit to fend for itself, but he also knew the warrior code decreed that he HAD to help him, so he led him back to camp to meet the Clan.

The kit later explained that his parents had gone missing one night, and that he’d been wandering around for a few days trying to find them, eating bugs and such to survive. When asked about his age, he said he thought he was about 5 moons old, as he’d seen the full moon about 5 times, but he wasn’t quite sure exactly how old he was.

Holysnow consulted the leader about this, and they came to the conclusion that the new kit could become an apprentice alongside the next generation, which were all due for an apprentice ceremony within the next moon or so. However, there was one thing left to do.

After a few hours of discussion, Holysnow asked the kit for his name.

“My name? Uhmm… I dunno… I don’t really remember… Mama didn’t call me much, I usually stayed right next to her, and I don’t think Mama and Papa talked about me,” he mumbled out, his voice, however gruff it may have been, still another clear indicator that he was just a kit. He probably wasn’t used to his name yet.

“Then we shall call you Giantkit until you become an apprentice,” Holysnow decided for the kit, before walking off to tell the leader.

“‘Giantkit’? ‘Apprentice’? What does that mean?” the silver tabby asked the other kits, crouching to get closer.

“Oh! I know I know! Most of us are named after what we look like! Like Muddykit and Lavnderkit, and me! Goldenkit! But soon we’re gonna be Muddypaw, Lavenderpaw and Goldenpaw, and you’re gonna be Giantpaw!” a yellow kit announced enthusiastically, bounding around as she motioned to her friends.

“Why are our names gonna change?” Giantkit asked, a bit confused, before a kit with a mottled brown pelt stepped in front of him.

“Because we’re gonna turn into apprentices! We’re gonna get to leave camp and hunt for the Clan, and fight off all the badgers and foxes!” he said, seemingly excited for the new title.

“Yeah, our moms said that when our kit fluff is gone and we grow into our paws, we’re gonna become apprentices! We’re all really close, and so are you, so you’re gonna become an apprentice with us!” exclaimed another kit, silver that looked almost purple.

“Ugh, do we have to become apprentices with him?” he heard a sudden, much snarkier mew behind him, and turned to see an oddly thin, lanky kit leave the den.

“Don’t be so rude, Stickkit, he’s new!” Goldenkit defended, running up to stand nose-to-nose with the other kit.

“But he doesn’t know anything about Clan life! That’s the point!”

“We barely know anything either, mouse brain, why do you think we become apprentices before we become warriors?!” Muddykit pointed out, standing beside Goldenkit.

Stickkit looked around for a moment before spotting another kit attempting to leave the den.

“C’mon, Ratkit, back me up!” he asked the black kit, but the kit just looked at him, tilted his head and left the den without a word, heading towards the small pile of fresh-kill near a cluster of ferns. Stickkit growled to himself before pushing past the other two kits and trotting over to a den bush, slipping under it.

“What was that all about?” Giantkit asked as the two came back over to him, tilting his head.

“Stickkit doesn’t like new cats, he thinks everyone who’s not a Clan cat is stupid,” Goldenkit explained, shuffling her paws. “He’s mean, I don’t like him.”

“Don’t worry, Giantkit, I’m sure soon you’ll know just as much as we do!” Lavenderkit assured him.

“Yeah,” Muddykit agreed, “One day, we’re all gonna be great warriors!”

-

“And you did become great warriors! You’re the best hunter in the Clan, Muddyspots is the deputy, Goldenscruff is super fast and Giantstrike scares away all of the big, scary animals because he’s even bigger!!” Skullkit cheered, pattering his little white paws on the ground.

“That’s right, and Sticksnap learned that cats outside of the Clan aren’t stupid; they just live differently,” Lavenderclaw added, looking over at Sticksnap and Velvetfur, “Didn’t you?”

The lean brown cat rolled his eyes, leaning into his fluffy mate. “I suppose I did…”

“See, you two? Everything works out. Giantstrike became a great warrior, and Sticksnap learned a life lesson. A perfect story!”

“But wait, what about Ratkit? What happened to him?” Pumpkinkit asked, “We don’t have a warrior with ‘Rat’ in his name now!”

“That’s…” Lavenderclaw thought, before sighing.

“That’s a story for another time, Pumpkinkit…”

[sunny6677]

Orchids.

Summary:

Lila finds herself trying to be a little more responsible as a mother after certain events that took place recently (and involved an old priest she didn't recognize), but while she goes out into town one night with her son and his friend for a small camping trip in the forest—she visits the nearby cahdy store and meets a very awkward but charming man.

Kevin finds himself overcome with stress due to all of the shenanigans the two weird kids in Halloween costumes keep bringing him—but one night when they both stroll in, they're accompanied by a strangely beautiful lady with purple hair.

Chapter 2: Departure.

————

Night had eventually fallen over the town—bathing it in darkness as white specks flickered from on high. They would only need to make a few short stops to certain places, and then they'd finally be camping. Not to mention, the forest wasn't that far, so there was no need to worry about anything related to travel troubles.

Still.. Lila felt an eery feeling as she looked outside the window. She wasn't sure why, but she began to feel an oddly intimidating feeling of fear wash over her anytime before she went out.

She gave a sigh, shaking her head. She needed to spend time with her son. Not come up with some excuse to just stay home again.

Turning away from the black sheet of sky outside, she walked into the corridor. Her sons friend was in the other room—looking at a picture of a black-haired woman and a brown-haired man whom she recognized as his parents that he had apparently slipped into his bag. Meanwhile, her son.. well, her son had vanished off somewhere into the long corridor that led to the attic. But she didn't exactly want to go up there.

..no. It didn't matter. If her son was up there, she had to go.

————

"Son?" Lila called out into the thin corridor. She glanced around for a moment. It was still the same as always. Grey tiled floors. Pictures on every wall. She recalled running through here with her son and his friend when that.. doll had somehow came to life and chased them down.

Yet, she was snapped out of that memory when a head snapped from out of the attics entrance. The skeleton-masked head of her son, smiling back at her. "Yes, mom?"

"I just.." She paused, "..wanted to let you know that we're about to leave in fifteen minutes. Are—you okay?"

Skid blinked, tilting his head to the side. And then gave a nod as his voice softened. "..ye—yeah. I'm.. I'm okay."

The way he avoided her stare, and the way he shuffled his feet upon the steps made her think otherwise. She felt a sigh escape her lips, and she took a few steps foward—walking over to where the entrance of the attic was.

As she walked up, her son looked away—a frown visible behind his mask. The closer she got though, the more she processed the sight of something.. small, brown and square-shaped in his hands. A photo frame. He held it close to his chest. But she had already been in the attic enough to know what photo it had been.

Her face softened—and she let out a sigh. Her son had an expression of shame, his lips twitched into a frown as he slowly sat on the step at the very bottom. She stepped foward, and slowly sank to the step he was sitting on, sitting beside him as closely as she could.

Her eyes scanned over his face once more, and she set a hand on his shoulder. "..son, I.. I know it's hard. It's—really hard for me to. It's hard for me to even look at his face. But—I want you to know things will get better. I'll do my best to take care of you. Even if he's.. not really here anymore," Her fists clenched, "we can still remember him."

Her son hesitated. "But.. remembering doesn't feel like enough. I want him to be here. I don't want him to be gone forever.." His little voice softened as he looked down at his lap—and he shuffled his feet.

Lila felt her heart break, feeling herself swallow. "Son, I—"

"Huey!" A lispy, nasally voice spoke from the end of the corridor. A bright orange pumpkin—or rather a pumpkin mask poked itself into view. Of course, it was only her sons friend. He shouted out, "Are you ready?"

Lila paused—looking at him with her lips slightly parted. She forced a grin as she rubbed her sons shoulder. "Yeah! We're ready. Just—wait for us by the door, okay?"

"Okay!" Her sons friend nodded, and quickly turned around, vanishing once more.

When the sound of his footsteps completely disappeared, she looked down at her son, and frowned, "I know it's not easy to just.. remember him. Believe me—I know. But.. we'll get through this. He's been gone for a long time already, and we still made it through, right? We'll be okay." She mustered a smile. "I promise."

Her son nodded, sounding choked as he looked at the floor. "Okay, mom.."

She smiled again, and slowly stood up. "I'll be waiting at the door, okay?" Lila gently murmured.

Her son gave a simple nod, faintly smiling.

Giving one last smile in return, she turned around, and began to make her way toward the entrance of the hall so she could go to the door. From behind her, her sons eyes trailed after her direction, but began to scan over the photo in his hands. The photo was of a man with his face ripped out, standing next to Lila—standing next to the sons grandma, and of course, the son himself. Something else sat beside the son that Lila didn't see on the step. Something gold, and rusty.

On it, written in bold letters, was simply:

"You are everything."

————

Eventually, the time came for their eventual departure—and on the doorstep, they now were. Bathed in the nights chill, and beneath the pale moonlight. As she shut the door behind them with a smile, Lila looked down at the two grinning kids with a slight tilt of her head. "Alright, kids!"

She gestured with her hands, adjusting the strap of her bag a little. "We'll stop by the mall first, and then we'll go—"

"Oh, wait, Ms. Lila!" Her sons friends voice cut her off in a slightly pleading manner, "Can you take us to the candy store after we go to the mall?"

"Uh.." Lila blinked, arching a brow. "Sure!" She shrugged. "Why not?"

"Yay!" The two children cheered, shaking their fists. She knew which candy store they were talking about. The Candy Club, to be exact. But she hadn't gone there in a long, long time—and she was fairly certain that someone else would be working there by now. It looked completely different anytime she passed by. Though.. a part of her supposed that was just because so many years had went by.

She rolled her eyes with a smile tilted on her thin lips. As she did so, her son's friend turned around, eagerly exclaiming, "Let's go to the mall!"

The two began to turn around, excited to run off as they often did—but with sudden instinct, Lila found herself speaking.

"He—Hey!" She said. The two noticeably came to a stop, their feet dragging along the path. They looked at her, seeming puzzled. She paused, looking off to the side.

"Why don't you two just.. follow me?" She nervously smiled.

"Follow you?" Her son repeated.

"Yeah!" She chuckled. "Is.. that okay with you?"

"Uh.. yeah, Ms. Lila!" Her sons friend shrugged.

"Yeah—that's okay, mom!" Her son nodded.

"Okay.. eheh.." She softly laughed. "Just make sure you follow me when we get out of the car, okay?"

Of course.. they agreed, giving eager nods. She smiled down at them, stepping off of the doorstep, and onto the path below.

She'd be responsible. For her son. For everyone else she hadn't yet lost. And for those who she had lost long ago.

————

John leaned over the table, tapping his fingers against the surface of it as he held onto the warm mug of his coffee. He gave an empty sigh, furrowing his brows.

"..how's it going?"

Jack asked, standing beside the table. John's gaze didn't tear away from the several photos that were right before him—a groan seeping out of his mouth as he did so. "..could be better."

There were photos of figures in red robes, with little holes cut into the masks, and golden necklaces hanging around their throats. A photo of a strange, large and muscular man with black hair sticking out of the top of his head—his eyes completely shadow, and a blue shirt worn around his form. A photo of a house on a hill.

And then there was a photo of two odd-looking trees John had seen in the forest. With symbols carved inside.

"We haven't checked that place in a while, have we?" John asked aloud.

"No. I don't think so." Jack shrugged.

"Well—you might have to." Patty flatly said with a breath—holding a piece of paper in her hands. She set it on the table. It was a bit odd—seeing her wearing a dark blue cap, and an actual police uniform. She wasn't a mortician anymore, and probably wouldn't get another job like that for a long time.

John leaned foward—on the paper was a photo of the forest in the town, under some caption John didn't particularly care to read. Something about odd sightings. It looked like a normal forest at first as his eyes scanned over it, but the more he looked upon it, he noticed something in the dark shadows of the woods. Something large, dark, and.. humanoid.

He arched a brow. This was new. He hadn't seem something like that the last time they went there.

"..hmm.."

All he could do was hum, and then sigh. "Well, I guess that's our next goal."

[97keanu]

shotgunning a cigarette with john wick (especially young jardani) is all i can think abt right now

John's breath is visible in the cold of the night, the stink of the city rising from the gutters in the alley. You take a deep drag from the cigarette he passed you earlier. It fills your lungs with welcomed smog, and you exhale before your lungs can protest the chemicals being held for too long. Neither of you speak as the smoke dances in the air between you two. You don't need to. This little routine of yours has been suiting you both quite nicely without many words so far.

You look out into the starless night, tapping the cigarette off to the side before passing it back to John without looking. You think about how different things are for people like you. How much your feet ache despite leaning against the brick wall for support. Your ruined toes from the strict ballet routines, the callouses on your hands matching the blisters on blisters.

You don't want to think about what they teach John. You know he's due for his first true mission soon, you're both beginning to be old enough to truly start being of value to the 'family's' business.

You don't notice John's sharp eyes caressing your features. You only glance over when your thoughts drift away, and the craving for another hit of the cigarette hits. You catch his stare, and he doesn't look away, he isn't one to be embarrassed about something like that. You wonder for a moment how long he's been eyeing you, but ignore it, and reach a hand out towards that little fire John holds in his hand between you. He pulls it back, not cruely, but as if he must.

This surprises you, but you don't know what to say. John speaks for the first time tonight.

"I'm headed off tomorrow night." he says it plainly, no deeper explaining, but you know what this means. He is going out to kill for the first time, for real, not the sparing he does with the other boys. No, he will use the sharpened skills he's learned, or he won't be back. You say nothing, but you give a small, short nod of understanding, and one of your hands reaches to smooth the white, fluffy tuelle of your ballet dress. John continues.

"I want to try something with you, if you'll let me..." He isn't nervous when he speaks. He says everything so plainly, but right now you know whatever he is suggesting is important to him, so you turn towards him fully. You look deep into those brown eyes, practically as black as the night sky above right now, only a small overhead yellowing light on the side of the building casting a glow on both of you. He sees your willingness to listen, and the space between the two of you closes so slowly, you hardly notice John is even moving towards you. He is truly, stealthy.

"Stop me if this displeases you..." His voice has softened, just barely, the words ebbing upwards with the frost of his breath. You know he means it when he says that, you trust that he would never do something to displease you to begin with, but your heart picks up as he moves closer. He brings that glowing ember back to his lips and takes a deep drag, tendrils of smoke escaping his mouth as he pulls the cigarette away at last.

He closes the gap between you until he is leaning down, his height having always been there, suddenly more noticeable. John hasn't released the smoke from his lungs, not yet. He's savoring the moment. His hand is warm when it touches your waist, bringing you in until your lips are brushing his, both of you open and waiting for the other. You give a small movement towards him for the first time since this started, and that's all he needs.

John presses lips into yours with a hunger, a need barely kept at bay, still restrained. He is well trained, indeed. He kisses you, moving gently in sync with your lips, and you respond perfectly in time. You are also trained, synchronicity coming easy to a ballerina like you.

John's lungs must be aching by now, but the kiss goes on, one of his large hands reaching up to place a thumb against the base of your neck, feeling you there, and then wrapping so gently to crook you deeper into him. You feel a moan bubble up from the gesture, and feel as if you are but a swan in wolf's teeth. John bites your lower lip gently, pulling it down and asking you to open. You oblige, and he softly breathes the smoke he has been holding into your awaiting lungs.

You take it hungrily, softly sucking in to meet what has been contained inside him. You feel as if more than just smoke has entered your body. You can feel a piece of John, as if he is giving you some small part of him. As if to say, 'if I don't make it back, remember this part of me, the part that didn't kill. The part that breathed life into another. Carry it with you.' Your cheeks burn in the cold as your lungs fill to the brim and the rest over flows and descends upwards into the night.

John seals the breath he's given you with a final, passionate kiss. It's as if he's stamped your petal like lips with a flame that wasn't supposed to grow there. When his lips pull away, leaving heavy breaths and even heavier lids looking, searching deeply into one another, you can't help but feel like John has lit a coalfire in the pit of your stomach. From the look he's giving you, you can tell he feels the same, maybe even better knowing what he's done to you, how he's tainted you before he must take his leave.

"John..." His name drifts from your lips onto his, and he stops you with the brush of another kiss.

"We should go back inside..." He hasn't taken his eyes off you, you're still so close it hurts. You know he's right, but this moment is intimacy that neither of you have every been allowed here, in this place that teaches only death. You search him, a hand you didn't notice is gripping his shirt. You hold that fabric tightly, and your knuckles shake when your mind thinks to let go.

"I know..." John says simply, and you know he does. "Meet me here again, in a days time, as we usually do."

"But..." You begin, not able to bring yourself to the 'what if' of no one being here when you come.

"I would not allow myself to let you down. You know that." And you do. John will do everything in his power to make sure your little ritual out here is unbroken. You know he will come back. He must. Your grip loosens, and you two part. You both go back to your comfortable silence, and head inside.

The heat of John's lips and hand around your throat hold you through out that night. You dream of a wolf who takes you gently in it's teeth. It doesn't let go.

Next part here!

[7s3ven]

SINGLE DAD! X BABYSITTER! READER HAS ME FROTHING OMGG. Even better when the rest of TF 141 is involved

part 1 | part 2 (coming soon - rest of tf 141 introduced)

master list

MDNI 18+

Warnings: big age gap, babysitter! reader, reader is in medical school (but still legal guys)

You told yourself it was just a temporary summer job, something to fill your pockets over the Summer break as you moved into another year of university. Medical bills were not easy to pay off and your old job that paid the bare minimum did not help you in the least. All it taught you was that you had a nasty uppercut (from the time you actually hit someone and got fired).

So, you found yourself standing in front of John Price’s house. You stared up at the tall building, brows raised in surprise. He had understated how big his house was… it even had a garden and a pool. You may as well consider it a mansion.

You quickly rang the doorbell, smoothening out your tight blouse. Your much more appropriate one was in the wash so you prayed whoever answered the door did not notice.

It was a tall middle-aged who greeted you, beard cleanly trimmed and… a hat on his head. “Y/N L/N?” He asked you. You swiftly nodded, softly smiling when he stepped aside.

“So, medical school, huh? Training to become a doctor?” He asks as he brews you a cup of tea while you read over his terms and conditions.

“A surgeon, sir. Not much better, though.” You offer him another smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension.

“Right. Next time I need surgery, I’ll call you up.” He takes a sip from your tea, which you notice but you say nothing. “Just checkin’ the temperature. Wouldn’t want ya to burn yourself.” He hands you the mug, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment too long.

“I assume this is only a quick job for you? Just away to gain a bit of money to pay those student fees off?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you nod. “Yes, sir. I know I should have clarified it but I’m a little desperate at this point. Besides, no retail places want to hire me… after I hit someone.”

Your words intrigued him. He let out a low chuckle as he sat across from you. “Now I’m interested.”

“Well… there’s not much to it… a guy kept staring at my chest. He said some vulgar stuff and next thing I knew, I was punching him.”

Price shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “The lad was askin’ for it. So, what do you think about the job? You’ll honestly be a glorified babysitter. Just do some cleaning and cookin’ here and there and make my baby happy and you’ll get a nice pay check every week.”

It all happened in a blur. You agreed to the job and weeks later, you found yourself at Price’s house more than your apartment. You hadn’t stepped foot into your apartment since two days ago, Price generously allowing you to use one of the guest rooms.

“Lila has a sleepover tomorrow.” Price mentions as you’re reading the instructions on how to make cookies for Lila’s bake sale.

Based on the cooking skills you had seen from Price, you doubted he could bake very well. In fact, all he could cook was steak, which was general knowledge for dads.

“I can drop her off if needed.” You offer while opening the packet of flour only for it to explode in your face. You smacked your lips together, grimacing. “Not a word.” You mutter to Price who’s chuckling under his breath.

“Wasn’t gon’ a say anything, love.” He helps wipe the flour dust off your face, still grinning in amusement.

In all honesty, your relationship with Price felt a little too domesticated, especially right now as you wore a frilly apron he had bought just for you.

“Your skirt’s too short, by the way.” Price grumbles, attempting to tug it down. “You sure no creeps stared at you on your way ‘ere? Wouldn’t want ya in danger.”

You push his hands away from your hips. “Even if people were staring, I’ll just punch them.”

You had tried to maintain a professional relationship with your boss but it was hard when he carelessly manhandled you and treated you like his wife rather than his daughter’s babysitter.

And all professional behaviour came crashing down when he unexpectedly stood behind you as you whisked the cookie batter.

“You look like a coke addict.” Price jokes, referring to the flour that still stained your face. “Like you got it everywhere but up your nose.”

“I can assure you, sir, I have never tried coke unless my friend daring me to snort sherbet counts.”

Price grins at your biting remark, his heavy hands falling to your waist. “Yeah? Heard it doesn’t feel too good with sherbet.”

“Not in the slightest.”

His hands trail dangerously low but you don’t have the courage to ask him to stop… nor do you really want him too. He seems to sense your willingness as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, body pressed up tightly against yours.

You feel more like his spoiled wife than a medical student just trying to pay her bills.

“You’re pretty, ya know that? Surprised you don’ have a boyfriend… or girlfriend. Or partner. Dunno what your label is.”

With shaking hands, you place the bowl filled with cookie batter to the side, afraid you’ll only spill it.

“Never met a woman as soft as you… most think I chased Lila’s mother away. But nah. Her mother ran off, leavin’ me with a baby. Not that I’m complaining, I love Lila… and without her, I wouldn’ have met you.”

You’re reduced to listening to Price’s words, stuck between his larger frame and the marbled kitchen counter.

“Sir.” You whisper but it reaches his keen ears. Everything after that is a distorted blur and you find yourself bent over the counter, clad in nothing but the apron, with Price right behind you.

Price was a mystery to you. How could a man be turned on by something as simple as an apron? Though, he was a single dad so it made sense.

Price is muttering praises in your ears as your knees tremble, threatening to buckle. You never imagined you’d be in your employer’s kitchen, having your back blown out by the man himself.

His hands were hungrily climbing your body, gripping every bit of exposed skin he could find. If it wasn’t for him holding you upright, you would have toppled to the ground in a heartbeat.

You feel Price lift a hand to grip your hair, tugging at your locks. He’s in a desperate stupor but you’re not any better, pushing back your hips to meet his harsh thrusts.

“Gon’ a fill ya up. Give you a baby of yer own. Fuck… be so pretty just like you. My perfect little wife.” He grunts in your ear. You have no energy to correct him; that you’re not actually his wife but you’d have no complaints if he bought you a ring.

If anything, his words spur you on more.

Your chest is heaving by the time you near your release. You’re whining like a damn dog, high pitched noises slipping past your saliva-slicked lips. And you only grow in volume as Price speeds up, pressing his body against your back.

He’s older than you, that’s a fact you knew from the start, but he’s definitely more experienced as well. His well thought out words have the desired effect on you as the coil in your stomach snaps.

Your fluids drip down your exposed legs, hitting the tiles kitchen ground in thick droplets. You hear Price swear under his breath, quickly pulling out and staining your back white.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. Then he leads you towards his bathroom, ushering you inside and handing you a spare set of clothes.

“Imma place your old ones in the washing, yeah?” He mutters, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you to wash off.

You sit on the shower floor for a good five minutes, replaying the moment in your head. When you finally cleanse yourself of sweat, you slip Price’s shirt over your head, inhaling the intoxicating smell of his cologne. It was the one you liked too.

His clothes engulfed you as you stumbled back into the kitchen, hobbling a little.

“I guess I’ll… get going then.” You murmur, fidgeting with your hands.

Price reaches out a hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face. Then he nods. “See you tomorrow night, lovie.”

Right, you still had to finish those cookies and pick up your clothes.

[inkspiredwriting]

Chapter 1: A World Reborn

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Yes, I know the first chapter is very short, the other chapters are longer, I promise.

Warnings: none

The decision had been unanimous—or as close as the Hargreeves family could get to unanimous. Five, his siblings, and Lila had agreed that The Cleanse was their only option. They would surrender themselves, stop existing, and in doing so, save the world from itself. The idea was simple, albeit terrifying: their existence had caused untold chaos, and by removing themselves, they’d restore balance.

Luther placed a reassuring hand on Klaus shoulder. “Oh God, I'm gonna miss you guys.”

“Maybe we'll see each other again.” Allison said quietly, her hand trembling in Viktor’s.

Five stood there, his hand holding Lila's, his sad look directed at his siblings. He simply nodded at Allison, his expression softer than usual. “That would be nice.”

“You know, I just wanna say I love you guys... but you are all assholes.” Klaus’s voice broke as his tears streamed down his face.

As the Cleanse engulfed them, Five’s last thought wasn’t of the apocalypses they had faced or the sacrifices they had made. It was of the moments in between—the laughter, the arguments, the unspoken love they shared as a family.

Then, nothing.

When Max was born, he had no memory of his previous life.

He was a precocious child, always ahead of his peers, with an innate brilliance that baffled his teachers. Yet, from as early as he could remember, fragments of dreams would haunt him. They weren’t ordinary dreams—they were vivid, visceral. He would wake up gasping, his mind filled with images of strange places, impossible events, and faces that felt achingly familiar.

At six, he dreamt of a glass eye. At eight, he saw the face of a man—a monocle, stern expression—standing at a table. By twelve, the dreams began to speak to him, whispering names: Luther. Diego. Viktor. Klaus. Allison. Ben. And one name louder than the rest—Five.

His parents thought he had an overactive imagination. His teachers believed he was simply restless. But Max knew better.

One day, during a class on history, his teacher mentioned John F. Kennedy, and something clicked in Max’s mind—a memory of an old man, a portal, and a large man who helped him. He didn’t understand it, but it lingered.

By the time he turned 25, Max had grown into a remarkable young man. He excelled in everything he attempted, but the gnawing sense of incompleteness persisted. It wasn’t until he joined the special police unit that things began to change.

One day, after a particularly grueling case, Max sat alone in his apartment, flipping through his notebook. It was filled with scattered thoughts, sketches of unfamiliar faces, and theories that would make most people question his sanity.

“Who are you?” he whispered, staring at the name Five scrawled in the corner of the page.

The memories weren’t fading—they were growing stronger.