#or rings are fine for anyone to have and should be allowed in

[1americanconservative]

@markeatsmeat

Wow. Joel Salatin, a farmer and regenerative agriculture advocate, has been offered a position within the USDA. He will advise Thomas Massie who’s agreed to be Secretary of Agriculture. Here’s the full message posted to his website today: “The deplorables and garbage people won again.  Can you believe it?  I've been contacted by the Trump transition team to hold some sort of position within the USDA and have accepted one of the six "Advisor to the Secretary" spots.  My favorite congressman, Thomas Massie from Kentucky, has agreed to go in as Secretary of Agriculture. He's been the sponsor of the PRIME ACT, which, if pushed through, would be the biggest shot across the bow of the entrenched industrial meat processing system we've seen in a century.  Let liberty ring.  Wouldn't that be a change of fortune for Big Ag?  If RFK Jr. goes in as Sec. of Health and Human Services, everything will be inverted.  Talk about the coolest turn about.  He'd be the boss of the Faucis and Francis Collins--the whole covid anti-science crowd.  Wouldn't that be a change of fortune for Big Pharma?   And if Elon Musk goes in as a Government Waste Czar, do you think he could possibly find something?    Here's an interesting tidbit.  All the income taxes in the U.S. are $2 trillion a year.  Government spending and borrowing are so out of control that if we eliminated $2 trillion from the budget, it would only set us back to 2020.  Does anyone think returning to government spending in 2020 would destroy things?  Of course not.  So all we have to do is cut federal spending to 2020 levels and we can eliminate income tax.  Period.  Done.  How would that make you feel? Most people don't know enough history to know that the federal government was to be financed entirely from tariffs and excise taxes.  In fact, as a nation we operated just fine for nearly 150 years without an income tax.  The only president who eliminated the national debt was Andrew Jackson, and he did it by eliminating the second bank of the U.S.  Nearly 100 years later we got the third bank, known as the Federal Reserve, plus the income tax.  During that time, tariffs averaged 40-50 percent.  After the income tax, tariffs dropped to an average of about 7 percent, where they remain today.  If we went back to 40 percent, like we had for nearly 150 years, we would bring production home and free our citizens from impoverishing taxes.  Dear folks, this is a watershed moment to take a creative and serious look at the sacred cows in our nation and fry some serious burgers. We don't know history.  We don't know liberty.  We don't know earthworms or aquifers or immune systems.  I'm hoping this election is an opening to discovery.  Perhaps we could even figure out how to put negative occurrences like jails, pollution, and cancer on the nation's balance sheet, as a liability rather than an asset (Gross Domestic Product--more jails?  wonderful, pour more concrete and make more jobs).   Perhaps we'll eliminate federal involvement in education, from kindergarten to college.  Make every teacher accountable to performance.  Eliminate ALL federal intervention in the food system, in farming, in energy.  The Constitution (read it) doesn't allow for any of this and it's time to examine all of it.  Shut down foreign military bases; bring them all home.  Stop ALL foreign aid, from USAID to military aid.  Sell stuff is fine; giving it isn't.  I think whatever taxes we pay should be able to be designated to certain departments.  That way we the people could support or defund departments directly.  The reason we have K street is because all our freedoms are for sale.  Eliminate government manipulation and the lobbyists all go home.  These are simple things.  Let's do it.” https://thelunaticfarmer.com/blog/11/6/2024/celebration?format=amp

[starrynightsforever]

I was reading the test day rules for STEP 1 last night, and apparently no jewelry is allowed in the testing room except wedding rings. So, it's fine for you to cheat on and/or record medical licensing exams as long as you're married.

[totheblood]

in between | s.r.

pairing: post-prison!spencer reid x best friend!reader

summary: things are different, spencer's different. but how he feels about you is the one thing that has never changed. the only problem is now you have a boyfriend.

warnings: smut ! 18+ mdni!! lowkey cheating (lol), cursing, problematic reader, angst.

a/n: i am never beating the star has a cheating kink allegations!! I DO NOT I PROMISE... but yeah... this got away from me, i am touch starved and ovulating. reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses.. PLEASE SEND SPENCER REQUESTS!!!

wc: 5.9k

"I just can't come between 'em, they got their own thing I wish he'd stop pretendin', he won't let his phone ring."

Spencer was different after he got out.

It wasn’t like you could expect any less. Much less would change you for the worse and you knew that, but something about the way Spencer sat slumped over in his desk doing paperwork made your heart sink. He wasn’t as chatty as he used to be, he didn’t have that glimmer in his eyes, and his voice sounded hollow when he spoke. Under his eyes were permanent dark circles and his lips seemed to form a scorn whenever anyone wasn’t looking. Or when he thought no one was looking.

You sat at your desk, pink mug in your hands as you watched him. Watched his eyebrows crease, and watched him flip through the file in his hand as he pressed a free hand to his temple, rubbing it in small circles. Spencer was on edge all the time and he looked like it. You could tell he made an effort with you to be kinder, gentler, but it always came out sounding rehearsed, his face betraying him like it always did. Spencer Reid, your best friend, was now a completely changed person and it killed you that you couldn’t stop it. 

Pushing yourself from your desk chair you approached him, a small smile on your voice as you gently spoke, “Hey.”

He tensed for a second. He still wasn’t used to people sneaking up on him. He made a conscious effort to fix his face before turning to look up at you, his body relaxing upon seeing your face. Placing the file down on the desk, he leaned back in his chair returning your small smile as he spoke, “Hey,”

His voice was quiet as he spoke. He was tired and up close you could just see how much. 

“You, um…” your voice trailed off making his eyebrows raise, “are you okay?” The question was stupid, you knew the answer but it never hurt to ask. Your fingernails gripped the mug handle as you swallowed down the nerves, “are you sleeping?”

Spencer thought of how to answer truthfully. If he was being honest, of course, he wasn’t okay, he hadn’t been okay for a while, but instead, he just gave you a slight nod, “Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice was a little raspy as he spoke, but he turned away from you and back to the file on his desk. He was lying and you both knew it, but you weren’t his therapist and he was not about to open that can of worms on a Thursday. 

“Of course, yeah,” you awkwardly mumbled, “you know I’m still here, right? I’m still me, you know? You’re my best friend… and I, um, miss you.” 

He turned back to you, his face visibly softening as you spoke. He knew you were there for him, you were the only person he would allow to be there for him. He just didn’t know how to open back up or ask for help. Instead, he nodded his head, “I know… and I miss you too.”

“Spence, I-” you spoke but were promptly cut off by none other than Luke Alvez placing a hand on the small of your back as he whispered to you, “We still on for tonight?” 

It felt too intimate, too personal for Spencer to hear, but worst of all it made his stomach sink. He clenched his jaw tightly as he watched the interaction and took note of how you leaned into him. You were comfortable with him, comfortable enough that you should have told Spencer long before now. 

“Yeah,” you whispered back as you smiled sheepishly at Luke, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. 

“Great,” he smiled, removing his hand as he nodded slightly at Spencer before making his way over to his own desk.  

“You guys are going out?” He asked, his tone his own one-off attempt to keep his tone neutral and controlled, but came out more strained than usual. 

“Yeah,” you replied like you were ashamed of it, “it just kind of happened when you were… gone,” you rubbed at the back of your neck nervously, “I was just a mess without you and he was… well, he was there. There for me, I mean.”

Spencer kept his expression neutral, but he felt like a part of him was being taken from him, “So you’re dating now?”

“Kinda,” you squinted your eyes, trying to think of the perfect way to word it, “I mean, yes, like we haven’t labeled it but I think we’re exclusive. I don’t know we haven’t really talked too much about it.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” He said, his voice low and laced with bitterness. He had already felt like he missed out on so much and in a way became an outsider in a team he once called his family. But when it came to you, it struck a different chord. 

“When would that come up, Spence?” you replied, giving half of a laugh to soften the blow, “I wasn’t going to tell you about who I was hooking up with while visiting you in prison. It just didn’t seem fair and then you came back and didn’t seem interested in what I had going on. I just didn’t think you cared to know that.”

“Not interested in what you had going on?” he repeated back, the words sour on his tongue, “You think I didn’t care to know? I was in prison, that didn’t mean I stopped caring about you.”

“I know that, Sp-” he cut you off.

“I was in prison, stuck in a cell, for months thinking I was never going to get out and you were… dating,” he didn’t know why he said it, it just kind of spilled out. Like all the bitterness and resentment he had been feeling had finally reached the surface and was spilling over. 

“What was I supposed to do?” you whisper-yelled, “Stop my life forever because you weren’t here? It was hard for me, Spence, and god I missed you more than anything but I needed the pain to stop and he… he stopped it.” 

“Pain? You were in pain? Well, I spent 270 days in a 6 by 8 prison cell. I was the one in pain! You don’t know what it was like!” He knew he was wrong, but it was like all of his anger, pain, and frustration was coming out and he didn’t know how to stop it. He knew it wasn’t a big deal. Logically, he knew that. But right now, all he wanted to do was get it out.

You took a step back suddenly, forcing reality to wash over him as your eyes got slightly glossy, guilt painted all over your face, “I’m sorry… I thought you would be happy for me… I thought…” 

You turned your head from him slightly, avoiding his gaze as you shook your head, “Nevermind, I’ll um, I’ll see you around.”

Spencer watched as you stepped back and saw the hurt look on your face. The anger and irritation faded almost immediately and in its place was guilt and remorse. He had hurt the one person he never wanted to hurt. He reached out a hand to try and stop you from leaving.

"Wait... please don't go," He spoke in a softer and more vulnerable tone.

Your own expression softened at this, like he was a child reaching out for you, scared there were monsters under his bed. His hand linked onto your fingers gently. You could pull away if you wanted to, but didn’t, “What?”

Spencer held onto your hand gently as he stood up from his chair and took a few steps closer to you. He looked at you anxiously, knowing that he needed to explain himself. He didn't want you to leave, especially not like this.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I just... I feel left out. I felt forgotten," he explained, trying to keep his voice soft, but there was a hint of worry and jealousy in his tone.

"I know, I know, I mean I'm sorry," you replied, shaking your head, "you're my best friend, I should have told you."

Spencer sighed and gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm just... I'm on edge lately and I didn't mean to take it out on you. I shouldn't have acted like an ass to you."

He spoke in a sincere tone, his expression softening as he watched your face. 

You let out a small giggle, taking your hand back from him but gently nudging his shoulder, "You've been through a lot. you deserve to be an ass sometimes," she teased. 

Spencer let out a small breath of relief when he heard you laugh. It was like you were his again, and that part that had been missing found it’s way home.  He managed a small smile at your words, feeling a little lighter.

"Maybe, but not to you. You're probably the only person who I shouldn't take my anger out on. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," you replied almost too quickly, "you won't lose me, I promise."

"You promise?" he asked quietly, his tone filled with vulnerability.

You lifted your pinky finger for him to take with his, "Pinky promise."

Spencer's lips curved into a small smile as he saw your pinky offered to him. He looked at it for a moment before linking his own pinky with yours and giving them a small squeeze.

"Pinky promise."

You smiled up at him, the bright smile you reserved especially for him as you clicked your teeth, “Well, I gotta… get back to paperwork, Spence, but I’m  glad you’re back.”

Spencer smiled faintly at your bright smile, that only you seemed to bring out in him these days. "Yeah, I should get back to work, too. But, um..." He paused for a moment, his expression growing more anxious as he spoke, “Tonight, with Alvez… do you think you could cancel?”

"Why? What's wrong?" you asked, a worried expression clouding your face as you lightly gripped his forearm. It used to be a comforting touch but right now it felt foreign. 

"I just-" He let out a slow breath and paused before continuing, "I just want to spend time with you, alone. I feel like we haven't really had time to connect since I got out, and I miss you."

He wanted to feel guilty, he really did but a part of him couldn’t. He did want to spend time with you, but he also just didn’t want your time to be taken up by Luke. 

“Oh, Spence,” you cooed, voice soft as you took your hand back, “of course I can cancel. My place or  yours?” 

Spencer's expression softened and relief washed over him at your words. He couldn't help but smile faintly as you agreed, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. He thought for a moment before replying, "Your place. I haven't been there in a while, and I need a change of scenery."

"My place it is," you smiled, "I'll go cancel with him right now,"

He watched as you walked over to Alvez and told him you were canceling, and then told him you were canceling for Spencer. Spencer couldn't hear the two of you but it looked like you were fighting. He was talking with his hands, rolling his eyes as you put up a defensive hand. It was clear he was upset and it ended with Alvez throwing down a file on his desk and storming away.

Spencer's expression grew a little more worried as he saw the interaction between you and Alvez. When he saw Alvez throw down the file on his desk and storm away, he felt a pang of guilt. He knew that you had canceled because of him, and it was causing problems between you and Alvez. He watched as Alvez walked away and he let out a slow, heavy sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Later that night, you were in your living room, sprawled out on the couch watching tv as you heard the familiar knocks of Spencer on the door. Opening it up you gave him a bright smile, your PJs in full effect, "Good evening, Doctor," you smiled at him, taking a step to the side to let him in.

Spencer smiled faintly at the sight of you, dressed in your PJs. It was a comfortable and familiar sight to him, and it made him feel at ease. He chuckled softly at your greeting, "Good evening, SSA Y/L/N," he teased in return, his voice a little more relaxed than usual.

You giggled, letting him in, "On a last-name basis, huh?" you laughed again. "I say we watch Doctor Who Series Two, what do you think?"

Spencer chuckled as he walked inside and nodded in agreement. He closed the door behind him and made his way over to her couch, plopping himself down on one end, and resting his arm on the back of the couch. In a way, he hated how well you knew him. He hated how as long as he lived there would be one person in the world to know what he needed and that she would be putting on his favorite season of his favorite show and making it seem like it was her own idea. He hated that you existed and he couldn’t have you. 

"Sounds perfect. Doctor Who marathon it is," he replied with a smile.

"Perfect," you smiled, plopping down on the other end, remote in hand as you moved to put on the show, Spence, who is your favorite companion," you asked absentmindedly as you flipped through the catalog. 

Spencer chuckled at your question and thought for a moment before answering. He shifted around on the couch until he was facing you, his expression pondering.

"Hmm, that's a tough one," he started, his voice thoughtful as he considered the question, "I've always had a soft spot for Donna Noble. She was funny, and her chemistry with the Doctor was hilarious. But Ten and Rose... they'll always have a special place in my heart."

“Ten and Rose are..." you blushed to yourself, "They are endgame to me even though they clearly aren't endgame, but I don't care."

Spencer chuckled at your blushing as you spoke about Ten and Rose, and he nodded in agreement, "Right? They had such incredible chemistry. It's hard not to root for them. The way Ten always looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered. It was like he saw the universe in her eyes," he agreed, his expression growing fond as he spoke.

"Yeah," you smiled, your smile fading as you clicked on the first episode of series two. Spencer noticed your smile fade and he furrowed his eyebrows in concern. He leaned a little closer to you, watching your expression.

"Hey, you okay?"

He spoke quietly, his voice filled with a hint of worry.

“Yeah, it's fine. I just... don't like being in a fight with Luke. it's like why can’t we be more like... Ten and Rose..." you shook your head, "It's stupid, whatever.”

Spencer's expression softened as he listened to you, understanding your frustration. He gave you a reassuring smile and spoke in a gentle tone, "It's not stupid, you're allowed to feel that way. Comparing what you have to some fictional characters... it's natural to yearn for that kind of connection,” He paused for a moment, studying your face, before continuing, "Why do you think you and Alvez can't be like Ten and Rose?"

"I don't know," you shook your head, "it's like I can't do anything right. He's- and I shouldn't be telling you this, but when you were away we would get into so many fights over you. He'd be mad if I went to visit you, or if I was too upset about missing you and he just always kept insinuating that I was like in love with you or something,”

Spencer's expression faltered as you spoke. He could already sense Alvez was jealous of your close friendship, but to hear he had been trying to discourage you from visiting him while he was away... it angered him. But it was the implication that you may have feelings for him that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. But he pushed that feeling down for the moment, trying to focus on what you were saying, "He said you were in love with me?"

"Yea," you whispered, "but I told him it wasn't like that. That we were just friends but he didn't believe it. He still doesn't."

"Why doesn't he believe you?" He asked softly, his eyes studying your face.

"I dont know," you groaned, "I mean we don't have a conventional friendship, me and you, but it was like a piece of me was locked up with you in that prison. I just wasn’t me without you and he saw that and took it as me being in love with you," you replied, ignoring the implications of what that meant.

Spencer couldn't help the pang of guilt that went through him at your words. He knew that being locked up had affected you just as much as it had affected him. He understood that without him, you had felt like a part of you was missing, but it still broke his heart to hear it.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice tinged with guilt, "I never wanted to make things difficult for you... or put you in a position like that."

"You didn't, Spence," you sat up quickly, putting your hand over his that was situated in his lap, "You didn't do anything okay, my... partner or whatever he is should be able to trust me."

Spencer's expression softened at your touch, and his heart skipped a beat as you covered his hand with yours. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, feeling a wave of emotions wash over him. Your words made him feel a little better, but he couldn't shake off the guilt entirely, "I know, but..." He trailed off for a moment before continuing in a softer tone, "I just wish I could make things right for you, y'know?"

"Not your job," you smiled in a desperate attempt to comfort him, "I'd rather have you in my life than some man who didn't believe me anyway."

Spencer sighed, feeling a mixture of comfort and guilt at your words. He knew that it wasn't his job to fix things between you and Luke, but he hated seeing you hurt or upset. He gave your hand a small, affectionate squeeze as he spoke, "I'm always going to be in your life, no matter what. You're stuck with me."

"Oh, kill me now," you joked, voice soft as you leaned your head on his shoulder, "Eternity with you though?" you whispered, "Not the worst thing in the world."

Spencer chuckled softly at your joke, and he couldn't help but smile as you rested your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you a little closer to him, "Eternity with me, huh?" He repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice, "You sure you could handle it?"

"You sure you could handle it?" you giggled, softly pushing him down on the couch causing him to topple over into the couch. If this was anyone else he would have pushed you back immediately, tell you to not push him like that, but it was you. And you could do whatever you wanted to him. 

"Hey, hey, easy on the doctor!” Spencer protested jokingly as he fell backward into the couch. He looked up at you, a hint of playfulness in his eyes, as he sprawled out comfortably, "You're not getting rid of me that easy," he teased with a chuckle.

"Hey, hey, not easy on the doctor," you giggled again, leaning over on top of him, taking a pillow, and pretending to smother him as you climbed on top of him, straddling him. 

Spencer's heart skipped a beat as you straddled him, and he couldn't help blushing slightly at the sudden closeness of your body on top of his. His breathing hitched a little, but he tried to keep his expression playful. He pretended to struggle against you as you leaned over him with the pillow, "Hey now, watch it!” he protested, though his voice was filled with amusement.

You giggled as she pressed the pillow further into his face, "'m putting you out of your misery Doctor,"

Spencer laughed even louder, feigning resistance as you pressed the pillow further into his face, "Mercy! Mercy! I surrender!" He jokingly spoke in a dramatic tone, his voice muffled by the pillow. He tried to pull the pillow away from his face to look up at you.

Pulling the pillow off of his face, you smiled down at him, the laugh slowly dying in your throat as you realized the compromised position, “Oh.”

Spencer was panting slightly from the fake struggle, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked up at you. His gaze met yours and he felt a wave of heat wash over him as he fully realized your position, with you straddling him on the couch, hips pressed slightly down into him. He couldn't help but take in the sight of you on top of him, his heart racing.

"I, um… didn't realize,” you spoke quickly, your own self out of breath, panting as you began to move to get off him, "I'm sorry, shit." 

"No, no, wait., "Spencer's hand reached out quickly and gently grabbed your wrist as you tried to move off him. He swallowed, his heart racing a mile a minute. He couldn't deny the tension in the air or the way his body reacted to how close you were. This was straight out of a dream he knew he had, "Please... don't move," he whispered, his voice low.

Your breathing was heavy as you looked down at him, hair tousled and in your PJs, "Spence," you whispered, voice low. 

Spencer looked up at you, feeling his body hum with desire as he took you in. Your tousled hair, the sight of you in your PJs, it was all so real and intimate. It was domestic in nature and it made his heart do a flip. He swallowed, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. At the sound of you whispering his name, his grip on your wrist tightened just a fraction, "Yeah?” He whispered back, his own voice thick and dry. 

"Is that a gun in your pants or are you just happy to see me?" you joked, the tension still thick and palatable as it sat it the pit of your stomach.

Spencer's breath hitched at your joke, with the way he was reacting it was clear he hadn’t been touched in months. He let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound sending shivers down his spine. He shifted beneath you, your body still straddling him, and he could feel the weight of your body against him, the tension between you palpable, "Maybe it's both," he whispered, his voice low and thick with desire.

You breathed out, a shaky breath but still a breath, as you rocked your hips a little bit against him, desperate for friction, "I'm not a cheater," you whispered. 

Spencer's breath caught in his throat as you rocked your hips against him, and it took everything in him not to buck his hips in response. He tried to control his breathing, his body reacting to your touch almost involuntarily. He swallowed, his voice a little rougher than usual as he replied, "I know you're not. You've never been," He placed his hands on your hips, holding you in place lightly, his thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin of your waist under your shirt.

Your skin burned where his hands met your hips. It made you want to do more. It made you want to continue, a soft sigh that sounded like a moan falling from your lips, swallowing quickly as you stared down at him. 

Spencer's heart raced as you let out that small sigh, a mix of a moan, and he couldn't deny the effect it had on him. He could feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room almost tangible, "You're driving me crazy," he breathed out, his thumbs continuing to stroke your skin, his touch growing a little firmer, more possessive. His pupils were blown out, soft brown eyes looking up at you like it was you who held the universe in your hands. 

"I'm not-" you shook your head, "not doing anything," you whispered, hips grinding down slowly as you took another deep breath in. Your brain was telling you to quit while you were ahead, but every bone in your body seemed physically incapable of stopping. 

Spencer's breath hitched at the feel of your hips grinding down against him, and he involuntarily tightened his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin. "Oh, you're doing plenty," he whispered back, his voice low and laced with barely suppressed need. "You have no idea what you're doing to me, do you?”

"No," you whispered, hands trailing up his chest as he held you, "explain it to me."

Spencer let out a ragged breath, trying to form coherent words, "You... you drive me crazy. You always have," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "The way you look at me, talk to me, touch me..." He paused, gathering himself, before continuing. "The way you're straddling me right now, your body pressed against mine, it's... it's like you were made for me."

You closed your eyes, grinding down harder involuntarily. It was okay to dry hump your best friend, right? That didn't count as cheating, right? Your mind tried to convince yourself this was okay, that you weren’t awful, but you were spurred on by his words, your panties dampening as he held you. 

Spencer groaned as you ground down harder against him, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he opened them again, his gaze filled with undisguised desire, "This... we shouldn't," he managed to say, even as his hands continued to grip your hips, pulling you closer to him, his body responding without even thinking, "You're with Luke... we can't... we can't do this," his words were a whisper, but even he could hear the lack of conviction behind them.

You ground down again, in tandem with him, "You're- you're right," you panted, "maybe we should stop," your own eyes fluttered closed. 

Spencer groaned again, his grip on your hips tightening even more, his body moving in time with yours, almost involuntarily. His heart was racing, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he tried to slow himself down, to think clearly, "Yeah, we... we should stop," he agreed, his voice a little hoarse, but his body betrayed his words, still rocking against you, needing the friction, the closeness.

"Oh god, fuck," you groaned, eyes fluttering closed as you rocked harder, faster, "Yeah... yeah... should stop," you repeated.

"Fuck..." Spencer couldn't help but curse under his breath, his hips bucking up to meet yours with each movement, his body on fire with need. He was losing his mind, his last shred of control slipping away as he felt the heat between you growing more and more intense, "We... we need to stop... now..." he managed to breathe out, his voice barely above a whisper, his hands holding onto your hips like a lifeline, almost desperately.

"Mhm," you moaned in agreement but never stopped your movements. Instead, you continued to rock against him, ignoring how the spaghetti strap of your pajamas had started to fall off your shoulder, "So stop," you whispered, not stopping.

Spencer's eyes were fixed on the spaghetti strap that was falling off your shoulder, his brain nearly short-circuiting at the sight. He groaned, the sound almost guttural, as he tried to steady his breathing. "I'm- I'm trying, I'm trying..." He was trying, he really was, but with your body moving against him like that, your hips rocking in just the right way, he couldn't help but move with you, his body responding on autopilot.

"How hard?" you whispered, a giggle falling from your lips that turned quickly into a strangled moan, as his hands pushed your hips down into him. Spencer's grip on your hips tightened even more, his fingers digging into your skin, as he pushed you down into him. His breathing was ragged now, his body trembling with need, as he felt you against him.

"So goddamn hard," he groaned, his voice strained, as he tried to hold back. "You have no idea how hard you’re making this for me."

"I can," you panted out, "I can feel it… How hard it is for you," you giggled, eyes fluttering shut again as you gripped his shoulder. It was all him at this point, he was pulling you down into him, his hips bucking up. The friction all felt too good, too real, and you weren’t stopping. There was no way you could. 

Spencer was losing himself completely in the feeling of you against him, the sound of your voice, the way your touch burned through him. His head was spinning, his body on fire with need and desire. He pulled you down harder against him, his hips bucking up involuntarily, the friction between you sending sparks through his body. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants, as he pulled you down closer to him, "God... you feel so good," he groaned, his lips brushing against your collarbone, his breath hitched and shallow.

When his lips touched you, you gasped, a loud moan coming from your lips that sounded too much like his name.  You wanted this and you wanted it desperately. It was almost pathetic how much you wanted this.

The sound of your moan, his name on your lips, it was like a punch to the gut. Spencer's grip on your hips involuntarily tightened, his body reacting almost violently to the sound, the need in your voice. "Say it again," he groaned, his lips moving against your skin, leaving a trail of hot, hungry kisses along your collarbone. "Say my name again."

"Fuck," you hissed back a moan, "Spencer," you practically chanted, hand gripping the arm of the couch behind him as you ground together, "Spencer," you chanted again, a lot less coherent as she bit back a moan. 

Each time you said his name, it sounded like a prayer, and Spencer felt like he was losing his mind. His hips bucked up against yours as he heard it again and again, the sound sending shockwaves through his body. He buried his face in your neck, his breath coming in hot, ragged gasps as he fought to keep himself together, "God, say it again," he begged, his voice thick with need and hunger, "Please, say my name again, just like that."

"Spencer- ah, fuck," you cried out, whimpering pathetically as your body moved for you, "Spencer."

Spencer was drowning in you, in the sound of you saying his name. It was the only thing he could hear, the only thing he could focus on. He was coming undone under you, his body reacting involuntarily to your touch and your voice.

"That's it," he breathed against your skin, his lips on your neck, his body moving with yours. "Just like that, baby, just like that. Say my name, say it again."

"Spencer," you cried out as his movements picked up, as they became more aggressive. You just kept chanting it like it was the air you breathed, like it was the only word you knew. Spencer was wild with need, overwhelmed by the sound of his name falling from your lips, the feel of your body against his. He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin, as he pulled you down into him, moving against you with a desperate, frenzied rhythm.

"You're killing me," he groaned, his voice thick with desire and frustration. "God, you're going to kill me."

He buried his face in your neck, his lips moving against your skin, his breath hot and labored. He was losing himself completely in the moment, driven by pure need and desire, "I can't- I can't stop," he panted between kisses, his voice ragged and strained. "I need you, I need you so bad."

"Fuck, Spencer," you cried out, body almost shaking on top of him. If this was wrong, why did it feel so good?

Spencer was lost in you, undone by your words, your sounds, your touch. Your body shaking on top of him, the sound of his name falling from your lips was like a drug, addictive and potent. He clutched you tighter, his grip almost bruising, as he moved against you frantically, desperately, chasing the release that was building inside him, "That's it, that's it," he panted, his own body trembling, "Don't stop, baby, don't stop."

He felt the orgasm building inside him, a wave of pleasure and heat rolling through him, his body shaking as he pulled you down into him again and again, "Oh god, I'm- I'm gonna-"

The words were lost in a strangled moan, his body arching up off the couch as he found his release, his grip on you still tight. 

“Oh god, I’m,” you panted, crying out his name like a hymn, “I’m cumming,” you breathed out. It was all too good, like he was made for you just in this moment. 

Spencer's heart felt like it was going to burst as he heard you call his name, the sound like a prayer as your body trembled on top of him, "Yes, yes, yes," he whispered hoarsely, his arms holding you tightly against him, his own body still shaking with aftershocks from his orgasm, "That's it, baby, let go, let go for me."

Your body stopped moving, collapsing on top of him as you came undone, holding onto him like he might float away. He caught you against him as you collapsed on top of him, his body still throbbing with the aftershocks. He held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breathing ragged and labored. He nuzzled his face into your hair, his lips brushing against your skin, as he tried to slow his racing heart.

"That was... incredible," he panted, his voice still hoarse.

"That was..." your voice trailed off as you sat up quickly, realizing you were still clothed as she stood up and off the couch pathetically, "that was cheating, oh god."

Your sudden movement jerked Spencer out of his blissful state, and he looked up at you with wide eyes, his mind still fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure, "Whoa, whoa, hey, calm down."

He sat up, his heart still racing as he reached for your hand, trying to steady you, "It's okay, it's okay, we're okay."

“No it’s not,” you whispered, pulling your hand back from him as he reached for you. It made his chest sting, but all he did was blink, “I think you should leave,” 

“What?”

“You should go, Spence,” you reiterated, eyes looking down at your feet, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

“If that’s what you want me to do,” he spoke. His voice almost sounded broken and you didn’t like the feeling of being the one who caused it. 

“It is,” you replied quickly, arms folded across your chest. You turned away from him completely, ignoring the sound of the door slamming closed as he stepped outside.

[brucewaynehater101]

I need you to stop me from making another Tim Drake centric fic

I got this random idea that won’t leave me alone

like what if the emotional scars and trauma people have show up physically too most commonly as little cracks on the skin and all of the bats have them

they hide them tho with make up and stuff so people don’t question it except Tim hides them from everyone maybe bc that’s what his parents taught him to do maybe bc he just doesn’t want to burden any of the bats

the bats think that Tim is fine so to them he’s invincible which leads them to treat him as such subconsciously or otherwise especially Bruce

it takes a lot for something to be bad enough that they physically manifest and Tim has A LOT bc everyone thinks he’s invincible

:) it won’t leave me alone help me I beg of you

Hmm.... Let's add on, shall we? This is a very rad idea. You should definitely write a fic about it, but no pressure.

Mind if I explore it? Also, feel free to disregard any part below you don't want/disagree with. This is just brainstorming ^^

Alright. Emotional scars are a physical mark on someone's skin.

Similar to regular scars, they can fade as a person heals.

Some may never disappear, and some only appear for a short time.

What would their color be?

Would they look like actual cracks in a person (so black-ish in color)? Would they be gold or multi-colored (different colors represent different kinds of emotional traumas)?

The level of hurt inflicted is directly proportional to the size (length and width) of the scar.

Perhaps more could be deduced from the general shape (is it jagged? A single line? Branching?)

Not all people have these marks

Most of the population manifests them. There's some prejudice against folk who don't [something something they are heartless, incapable of feelings, not able to be emotionally hurt, cold, detached, etc.], but hiding scars is also common. Therefore, it's harder to discern whether someone is hiding their marks or markless. It's a very fine line, so most people allow a smaller mark to show every once in a while. There's even a few trends to proudly display all marks.

Marks appear at the time of the emotional harm

It may not be apparent at the time due to the location, but the individual being hurt will manifest the mark at the very moment of emotional harm.

Anyways, that's the background stuff. Fun, but let's get into Tim specifically ^^

Tim's parents are part of the few who believe that showing off your scars to anyone, even your loved ones, is both a weakness and a way to guilt-trip people. Therefore, through their archeology studies, they managed to obtain magical objects to prevent the showing of emotional marks. It's similar to glamor.

Tim's object can change forms to suit his needs (so a ring at one moment and an earring the next). This ability prevents the Bats from discovering it.

Janet fakes a very small mark on her hand when she wants to discourage any rumors that's she's incapable of manifesting marks. For Tim, though, his parents wanted him to have rumors of being incapable of forming marks. It served their purpose better for him being the cunning Drake heir.

The deception started from birth, so no one but the Drakes know of Tim's ability to form marks [and the Drake parents never see the marks they leave behind on their child].

The Waynes, long before Tim entered their life, were aware of these rumors. Thus, when Tim demands to become Robin, he doesn't correct their assumptions.

Bruce is a callous fucker to Tim at the start. If Tim can't be hurt emotionally, then Bruce's ill-treatment of him is fine (which is flawed logic. The markless can be emotionally hurt, and they still deserve kindness, dignity, and respect even if they couldn't. Bruce was mentally fucked up, but it doesn't excuse his treatment).

Eventually, Bruce comes to the second realization that Tim should still be treated well even if it doesn't hurt him regardless. The man's behavior is better, but he still has the notion in mind that Tim can't be emotionally hurt. He uses this for missions and to downplay the way his other kids treat Tim (specifically Jason and Damian when they first meet Tim).

Tim gets used to a rotation of insult-names: Robot Robin, heartless, markless (said insultingly), cold-blooded, unfeeling bastard, etc.

He's also subject to a TON of misunderstandings. People are more reluctant to love him due to the belief that he can't love them back. He gets yelled at and told off for "masking/faking his emotions" when he's actually being genuine.

Which adds to his hurt :)

He also has to pretend not to grieve his parents when they die :(

Due to how rare markless are, the Bats don't meet "another" one until after the BruceQuest. When they chat with this person, they realize how many misconceptions they have about them (such as the markless being incapable of feelings. In fact, they accidentally offend that person when they tell the other they don't need to fake their emotions in front of the Bats. Safe to say, the markless individual becomes incensed when they realize how they've been treating their own markless family member).

This would be at least four (probably closer to five) years after Tim first became Robin. The entire family has a meltdown.

Tim, on the other hand, is used to the treatment the Bats have been giving him and becomes incredibly uncomfortable with them trying to care for his feelings and whatnot. It's rocky for a long while as everyone tries to seek forgiveness for something Tim bitterly doesn't hold against them (he is lying to them after all).

Tim rarely, if ever, views his own marks. The last time he checked was when he was having his identity crisis after Robin was taken from him. His entire body, from head to toe, had cracks in it. There was a giant, gaping crack on his back for the metaphorical stab in the back it was.

And we haven't even gotten to when the Bats figure out Tim was never markless :)

[peachesofteal]

dr. riley has me in a chokehold

(anon is talking about this and my previous ramblings about Simon as a shrink but they were too long ago so now they're lost to the ether, thanks Tumblr search)

He's in the pub.

The bar is a safe space. A spot where you can slink into the darkness and allow alcohol to nurse your wounds, the scars scratched into your mind so deep they'll never fade.

You can't do it yourself, so you let the drinks do it instead.

You've had enough tonight that you can't read the screen on your phone without going cross eyed, and the edges of your vision blur a bit.

You should stop.

But you won't.

The raw saw of the blades have finally stopped ringing between your ears. The buzzing hums at a low, tolerable whine.

You're ordering another one, when you spot him. Turned on your barstool, you catch a glimpse of his shoulders, the ones so wide, so thick he's more sequoia than man, his profile complete with the crooked nose, glasses resting on the bridge. He's shaking his head at another man, but when he shifts, you see her.

There's a beautiful woman at his side. Her hip rests against his thigh, beer cradled in her hand as she leans into him. All smiles. Beaming smiles, radiant like the sun.

Not broken, like yours. Scarred and misshapen, like yours.

You came back. But you came back wrong.

You're not stupid enough to see you're falling victim to the Florence Nightingale effect. Dr. Riley is kind, and patient, and he knows what you've been through. It almost feels like he understands you, knows you. He doesn't get angry when you struggle or fail, he lets you try again. He encourages you.

It's been a really long time since you've felt like anyone understands you.

And, the way he touches you has to be professional, but to you, it's starting to turn to something else. Something dark. Craven. His wide palm resting between your shoulder blades, a firm squeeze of your hand when he holds it, a soft rub of your shoulders. Practiced, therapeutic reassurance on one end, and the other: fire roaring through your body until you're slick with flames.

You're too distracted by your wandering thoughts, zoned out staring at the trio across the bar that the other man sees you, and cocks his head. Fuck. Like a slow motion car crash, you watch the man say something to Dr. Riley, the bulk of his body turning, searching through a sea of faces until his gaze lands on yours.

Double fuck.

Black tar wraps around your heart in vines, and your vision melts to double. You throw notes, too many, onto the bar top and nearly sprint for the exit, heavy wooden door squeaking on its hinges as you plunge into the cool air.

The world is spinning. The alley is dark, the asphalt is firm beneath your feet and still, everything turns on its side.

"Clover?" You turn, exerting too much energy to keep yourself upright, stable.

"Hi, Dr. Riley." He traces you from head to toe. Slowly. No doubt tabulating the state you're in, the way your eyes have trouble focusing, how your balance is blatantly askew.

"It's... good to see you, out and about."

"Oh. Yeah, well, I'm just here for the alcohol, ya know." It escapes from your mouth before you can shove it back down, and he frowns.

You've seen that frown before. It's the 'I'm worried about you, clover" frown, or the "I need to see more progress clover, you know that" or, your personal favorite, the "I understand you're upset, but I'm not going to compromise on making sure you have the care you need."

"Are you alright?"

"Oh yeah. I'm grand." You hold your arms out, palms up, babbling still, "I'm great, Dr. Riley, just peachy," and then try to spin for added effect. See? I'm fine. Totally fine. Normal, even.

It's embarrassing how fast you lose control and careen towards the pavement, your forearms coming up just in time to shield your face, alcohol burning in the back of your throat, warring with your control, attempting to come back up.

He lunges, heavy arm catching you around your middle. He's warm, scorching even, and you grip his forearm to try to get your legs beneath you. Once you're right side up, one of his hands settles at your shoulder and the other... your waist.

"S-sorry."

"It's okay." He's looking down at you, the glow from the street light catching in the umber flicker of his eyes, and you think you see something different in them, something deeper, something more. Your mouth is dry, and you lick your lips, his gaze dropping. You shudder, skin crawling with goosebumps and electric shock, confusing thoughts and feeling cycling through you like a storm. A storm destined to destroy everything in its path.

Stupidity blooms in your blood. You're close enough to smell the peat and sting of bourbon on his tongue, track the back and forth of his eyes as you rise to your toes.

A bold swell rises, a tide so strong it sweeps you to see, drags your toes across the sand like small weightless anchors, until you can no longer touch, until you can no longer see the horizon past the curve of the waves.

You let it drag you under. Fill your lungs. You let it push you further, faster, harder, and before you're even aware of it, your lips are pressed to his.

There's a beat. A single heartbeat, where you're fused as one and then-

He jerks backward, eyes wide. His hands envelope your shoulders and create as much distance between your body and his. He looks... surprised. Shocked even.

Not at all what you wanted.

What did you want?

He's still holding you by the shoulders. At first, it's confusing, because why would he do that? But when you listlessly tilt to the side, you understand. He's just keeping you upright.

The full scale veil of shame comes quickly. Horror coats your tongue. You fucking fool. You bleeding idiot. What have you done? He's inside with a woman, for fucks sake. The shock at yourself, at the loss of control, makes your chest tight, eyes darting around wildly, in a panic.

"Clover." You've never heard this tone before. It's serious, and very heavy. There's a hint of lecture in it, a shade of disappointment. "You're very drunk. Let me get you an uber so you can get h-"

"No." You jerk away, marveling at your ability to stay steady. "No, no. I... I'm sorry. I'm actually already waiting on one." Lie. How will you get out of that? "It'll be here... be here soon, 'round the corner." You pull every piece of your still functioning brain forward to get it all out without slurring too much, and melting into the ground from embarrassment. He gives you a stern look. It's awful.

"I'm jus' gonna go inside and grab my phone, okay? Stay put." He's still using that voice, the serious one without a hint of softness, the one that sounds nothing like the one you hear in therapy, when you're on his couch with your eyes closed, slowly walking through your thoughts with your eyes closed.

"Okay, sure." You try a reassuring smile, but he only scrutinizes you closer, before heading inside. He's moving fast, faster than you expected, but it won't matter. The block is short. You'll be a few away by the time he reappears.

You swallow your nausea, shake your limbs loose, and then...

you run.

[magiccath]

The Ring

tenth doctor x f!reader

Summary: In which the only way for you and the Doctor to get out of this one is a fake marriage. But how fake is it really?

You keeled over, your breath coming out in short pants. You weren't as good at this running thing as the Doctor was. 

Sensing you weren’t behind him, the Doctor turned to check on you. You threw your thumb up, signaling that you were okay. You didn’t like the Doctor worrying about you. 

“I’m sure we’ve lost them for now,” he assured, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. It was a nervous tick that he had.

“What are we going to do?” You asked once you had caught your breath. You allowed your legs to fold underneath you, sitting in the grass. The Doctor crouched down next to you. 

It was supposed to be a nice vacation, a break from the hustle and bustle of time traveling. You had explicitly asked for a relaxing trip, one where you didn’t have to save the world or run for your life. You should have known that was never how it was with the Doctor. 

Everything was fine at first. The alien town the Doctor had selected for your trip was throwing an elaborate festival. You were more than happy to partake in the dancing and sample the foreign foods. What you failed to notice was the ritual behind the festival. The village selected an unmarried woman each year to sacrifice to their gods. In retrospect, it wasn’t the weirdest ritual you had encountered over the years. What made it so uncomfortable was the fact they had selected you. 

“I would rather not be a blood sacrifice,” you admitted, pushing your wayward hair out of your face. 

“I won’t let that happen,” The Doctor said seriously, taking your hand gently. He had the duty of care, something that he didn’t take lightly. 

“I’m not sure how much good we are against a whole village of bloodthirsty aliens,” you laughed, burying your head in your hands. You should have been scared, upset even. Instead, you found the whole thing funny. You supposed that was a side effect of traveling with the Doctor. Everything could always be worse, and everything in front of you could always be funny. You just had to frame it the right way.

“I have an idea,” the Doctor murmured. You looked up at him, confused. He only whispered things when he knew you wouldn’t like them. 

“They only want to sacrifice you because you’re unmarried,” he stated. You stared at him, unsure of the point he was trying to make. 

He groaned, running a hand down his face in frustration. 

“I’m gonna need you to spell this one out for me,” you laughed lightly.

The Doctor swallowed anxiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing aggressively. “We could get married,” he said matter-of-factly, with the same tone he used to ask if you wanted tea or coffee in the morning. 

“What?” you asked, wide-eyed. The Doctor swallowed again, his eyes diverting from yours. 

You loved the Doctor, in every sense of the word. He was your home, your comfort. He was everything and more to you. But he only loved you as a friend, and you were more than willing to accept that love. It was better to love him like this than not at all. 

“They can’t sacrifice you if we get married.” 

“No, I got that part,” you rushed out, waving your hands about anxiously.

“You,” you sighed, pausing before continuing, “marry me?” 

“To save your life, yes,” the Doctor said like it was the simplest thing in the world. He would walk to the ends of the universe for you. He had.

“Can we do that?” you laughed, squeezing your eyes shut. The whole thing felt too good to be true. 

“I can’t think of anyone else I would rather fake-marry,” he smiled, taking your hands in his again. 

You grinned, the smile taking over your whole face. The Doctor loved it when you smiled like that. He loved it even more when he made you smile like that. 

“Let’s get fake married!” you laughed, jumping up from the grass. The Doctor nodded in agreement, standing up next to you. 

“How exactly…” you trailed off. “Are we going to get fake married?” The Doctor had a habit of making plans without a way to execute them. 

It wasn’t like you could just walk into the village church and get married. You certainly couldn’t go back to the TARDIS, or that would have been the plan before suggesting a falsified marriage.

“There was a little cottage on the outskirts of town, we can hope that there’s an inhabitant there who can serve as a witness?” He suggested. 

You couldn’t come up with a better idea so you agreed, following the Doctor as he walked off into the distance. 

You tried not to read too much into the whole marriage thing. The Doctor was doing it to save your life, nothing more. Still, the mere idea of it left your skin tingling and your heart racing. 

You were so lost in thought you hardly noticed the cottage creeping up on you until you were standing on the front steps. 

The Doctor rapped his knuckles against the wood softly before stepping back. You waited in silence for a few moments. You could hear the blood pumping in your ears. What if this didn’t work? 

The door flung open, revealing an old woman. 

“What do you want?” She barked, clearly disturbed by the visit. 

The Doctor cleared his throat, searching for his words. You frowned, he usually didn’t have any trouble talking to strangers. 

“This is a bit of a strange request,” he laughed lightly, his hand drifting towards the back of his neck subconsciously. 

“Spit it out, young man.” 

You bit back a giggle. The Doctor was far from young, even if this face was youthful. 

“We need a witness for our wedding,” he rushed, his words coming out in hurried clusters. 

The woman remained silent for a moment, her eyes darting between the two of you. You could see hundreds of questions forming in her mind before she shook them away. 

“I don’t want to know,” she murmured as she opened the door. 

You exchanged a look of relief with the Time Lord before following her inside. 

She bustled about her cottage, sorting things out while the two of you fiddled anxiously in the corner. 

“Well, let's get on with it,” she finally sighed. 

The Doctor nodded timidly, holding out his hand for you to take. You slipped your hand into his, your fingers interlocking instantaneously. You had held hands hundreds of times, yet it felt different.

With his other hand, the Doctor rifled about in the pockets of his coat. You frowned, wondering what could possibly be in there. Did he really need a jammy dodger from the depths of his pocket right now? Finally, his hand slipped out of the pocket holding two silver rings. 

“Why, on Earth, are you carrying around wedding bands?” you laughed. He only shrugged, handing the simple rings over to the old woman. She examined the objects in her hand wistfully, turning them over in her hand. 

“I can’t say I’m a professional at this,” she warned. It didn’t really matter to either of you.

The Doctor took your other hand in his, standing face-to-face with you. You laughed at the domesticity of it. 

“Do you,” the woman paused, looking at the Doctor. 

“John Smith,” The Doctor smiled. You shook your head at his fake name. You had told him hundreds of times that he should change it. No one was really named John Smith, that's the kind of name you only ever found in books. 

“Alright,” the woman said, not even blinking. “Do you, John Smith, take this woman to love and hold blah, blah, blah?” She finished, looking back to the Doctor. He wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were glued to you, studying every single aspect of your face. He never wanted to forget this moment. From your end of things, you were left with a sickly feeling that you had food on your face. 

“I do,” He smiled brightly. 

“And you?” she turned to you, repeating the process. 

“Absolutely,” you grinned. 

The woman handed you each a ring, which you placed on the other’s hand. You noted the slight shake in the Doctor’s hands as he slipped the silver band onto your finger.

You had always wanted to get married. Sure, you never imagined it like this. Standing in some random cottage in a pair of worn-out jeans exchanging wedding bands in order to save your life was never your plan. Even still, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“You may kiss the bride,” The old woman chided, looking at you two disapprovingly. You were so busy looking into the Doctor’s eyes that you completely forgot about the whole kissing part of getting married. 

A scarlet flush overtook your face, but the Doctor pretended not to notice. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands gently, angling it upwards towards his. Slowly, he dipped his way down until his lips were inches away from yours. 

You could feel his breath on your mouth, you noted each and every twitch of his lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as he eliminated the gap, his mouth crashing into yours. 

He very well could have given you a chaste kiss, the kind you give your gran on Christmas Eve. Instead, he kissed you like his life depended on it. Like he had been thinking about kissing you for eons. 

His mouth fit against yours perfectly. There was no other way to describe it. 

He pulled away slowly, leaving you stunned and breathless. Your eyes remained closed for a moment, taking it all in. When they finally opened, you saw him. Your Doctor. The impossible, magnificent, loving creature in front of you. It was foolish to claim that such a being was yours alone, but you couldn’t see it any other way. 

“Congratulations,” the old woman smiled, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“Thank you,” you smiled meekly, pushing your hair out of your face. 

-

You didn’t keep the ring on long. A few days after your wedding it came off with the rest of your jewelry before bed. You just never put it back on. It was a fake wedding after all. 

That didn’t mean that you threw it away though. Quite the opposite. The ring sat on your bedside table, occasionally glimmering in the light. 

Sometimes, you would run your fingers over it before bed. You relished the idea of it all. The memory of his hands holding yours, the feeling of his lips on yours. It haunted you.

The Doctor, however, never took it off. Not after the wedding. Not before bed. Not when he fiddled with the wires under the TARDIS console. 

You noticed this one evening, the dimmed lights of the control room catching on the polished metal. 

“Why do you still wear that?” you asked, gesturing to the Doctor’s left hand. His eyes traveled to the band on his finger that he had been idly spinning. 

“It’s my wedding band,” he shrugged as if it was as simple as that. 

“I’m not sure you can call it that,” you laughed, “I’m not even sure our wedding was legal.” 

“It doesn’t have to be,” he frowned, still looking at the ring. 

“I can take it off if it bothers you,” he suggested. He didn’t want to take it off, not ever. But if you wanted him to, he would. 

“It doesn’t,” you whispered, staring at the space where your own ring used to be. The feeling of his lips came back to you, and you had to push it to the side. 

“Did it mean nothing to you?” He asked, his voice hardly above a whisper. If you hadn’t been listening you might have missed it. 

“Not at all,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“You don’t wear yours,” he commented, taking your left hand in his. You stared at your interlocked hands, not trusting yourself to meet his eye. 

“You married me to save my life,” you stated. 

“And?” 

“It was a fake marriage.” 

“Not to me,” he whispered, running his thumb over the back of your hand. Your eyes drifted up to his face. He was looking at your hand with a pained expression. For the first time, it occurred to you that perhaps the absence of your ring was upsetting to him. For so long, you had assumed that he just wanted to forget the whole thing. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “I always wanted you to be my wife.” 

You didn’t know what to say. For a minute, you hardly believed the words coming from his mouth. 

“I always wanted you to be my husband,” you whispered, leaning in towards him. You paused, your breath bouncing off of his lips. It reminded you of your first kiss, the familiarity of it shocking. 

You learned in and kissed him gently, a tender kiss to test the waters. You pulled away, unsure if this was what he wanted. The Doctor gripped your face, crashing his lips against yours in a much more urgent matter. You smiled against his mouth, melting into the kiss. 

“My wife,” he chuckled between the kisses he planted all over your face. 

“My husband.”

[i314flix]

[ 7:23 A.M. ] “god, ____, you’re killing me here.”

you glared at jake. you wanted to retort that if anyone had the right to claim that they were being killed at this second, it would be you, thanks to your annoying fever. after all, you have been glued to your bed since yesterday, only getting up when you needed to pee or wished to rummage through the fridge, trying to find something to eat that your appetite might be kind enough to accept. so far, a half-glass of orange juice has managed to get down your throat, as well as a few spoonfuls of rice porridge.

“how the hell am i supposed to leave you like this?” he added when you didn’t answer. “should i make a call and say i’m rejecting the deployment?”

“is that even allowed?”

“no. i’m pretty sure they’ll throw me in the brig and give me a bad discharge or something.”

“then you should leave now, jake.” you weakly pushed his thigh. he was standing beside the bed, dressed in his naval aviator uniform, this permanent worried expression etched on his face. “i promise, i’ll live. it’s just some stupid cold.”

he didn’t move.

“jake.”

“what do you expect me to do?” he raised his arms up in frustration, voice raising a bit. he sometimes had the bad habit of converting his concern into a display of anger. “my girlfriend’s sick. her temperature’s not lowering, she lives alone, and i’m about to leave her for three months because my job demands it. i’m sorry if i want to ditch my patriotic duty for a goddamn day!”

you sighed. you weren’t sure how you were going to make the situation better either, and being scolded by jake didn’t help. it only worsened your headache, this ringing bothering your ears heightening for a second.

“shit, i’m sorry.” you suddenly heard jake mutter almost immediately when he finished talking, and he crouched down to your level, placing a hand over cheek. “i did it again, didn’t i?”

“turned your anger on me? yeah.”

guilt washed over him further. “i’m sorry for being a dick. you didn’t deserve that.”

“it’s alright, babe.” you placed your palm over his hand, a small smile making its way on your lips to appear stronger than you were. “we both know this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. we’re supposed to be sneaking in a quickie before i drive you to the airport and instead i’m sick.”

jake laughed at that. “i hate that i can’t even kiss you right now.”

“i know. i hate it too.”

“i hate that i need to leave.”

“if only you didn’t have to.”

“you sure you’ll be fine?” he asked.

“yeah, positive.” you replied. “i mean, this isn’t the first time i’ve been sick on my own. i’m a grown woman. i can take care of myself.”

“that’s another thing i hate.”

“don’t worry.” you kissed his wrist. “once i’m back on my feet, i’ll tell you.”

that seemed to ease him a little. “i expect you to tell me you’re okay as soon as possible, alright?”

“i’ll even write it in paragraph form with pictures if you want.”

“i’m being serious.”

you smiled wider, sheepish. “yes, sir. i’ll update you as soon as possible.”

he rolled his eyes at your playfulness and leaned in to give your forehead a long kiss. “don’t forget to drink your meds on time. i’ll tell marjorie to check on you every now and then.” marjorie was your elderly neighbor who had a dog you often looked after when she had lengthy errands to do.

you nodded once more, and with a final kiss on your cheek this time, jake said his farewells (reluctantly) and was out of your apartment by the time you were threatening to call coyote to haul him away.

[willowsnook]

Friends don't sleep together (MV) 18+

max verstappen x friend!reader

warnings: smut

"Coming," you shouted as you heard your doorbell ring. Applying one last coat of mascara you finished up before grabbing your purse off the counter and heading to the door. Your friend Lando was leaning against the back wall on his phone as you swung the door open.

"Ready?" he asked looking up.

"Do you think this outfit is fine?" You asked and he nodded.

"Yeah, it's supposed to be casual," he said. The two of you headed out and into his car. His brand new car as he kept reminding you along with how lucky you were to be allowed to sit in it.

You had met Lando a couple of years ago as you lived in the same building and he introduced you to a lot of his friends including Max Verstappen, whose birthday party was what you were currently heading to.

You liked Max a lot, maybe a little more than friends if you would admit that to yourself. He was quiet but confident, intentional but not intense, and cocky but not arrogant. In a perfect world you'd be together, you thought. But he's Max Verstappen, and you're well, just you.

Instead of going out, Max just wanted to have a lowkey get together at his Monaco place. It was a penthouse condo that you loved getting to visit just for the view alone.

The get together was in full swing when you and Lando got there and you quickly found Max, drinking a G&T while talking to Charles.

"Happy birthday friend," you said walking up and Max's eyes lit up before pulling you into a hug. You heard Charles snort but ignored it.

"Thanks, y/n," he said in your ear, holding you a little longer. "I'm glad you could make it."

You heart fluttered as you pulled away smiling at him. Moving to give Charles a hug you missed the look he gave Max that had him blushing.

"Is Alex here?" You asked Charles and he nodded, pointing towards the outdoor patio. The cool Monaco air hit you as you stepped outside and greeted Alex who was talking to another girl.

"Y/n!" She squealed. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," you told her smiling. The two of you caught up about the last month as you hadn't seen her since F1's summer break.

"You want to hear something interesting?" She asked you mischievously.

"Always," you replied.

"So a couple of weeks ago I was talking to Rebecca and she told me that she had a friend that was really interested in Max," she started. "Gorgeous, wealthy, model, you know the type. They all went out after the race in Zandvort and Max would not give her the time of day. Completely ignored her all night along with pretty much anyone of our gender who tried to talk to him."

"Hmm, seems like he just wasn't interested," you said nonchalantly and Alex rolled her eyes.

"Or...he has someone else on his mind."

Alex was the only person you had told about your small crush on Max and it had came out after a long night of drinking way too much wine.

"We're just friends Alex, I value our friendship way too much to risk fucking it up," you told her and she huffed.

"You both are ridiculous, everyone knows you're into each other besides the two of you," she exclaimed and you laughed.

In your mind, Max had ample opportunities to confess his so called love for you and it never happened. Yeah, he was grumpy when you wore any other team's gear than Redbull, he always made sure to find you after a race, and he showed you a lot of physical affection but that's what friends are like.

The rest of the night was a blur as you kept drinking way longer than you should have been. You found yourself relaxed on a couch, resting your head on Max's shoulder as you watched everyone slowly pile out.

"Staying here?" Max murmured and you nodded. You got up, stumbling towards Max's room, him right behind to catch you if need be.

When you made it into the room you started unclasping the front of your shirt, your chest spilling out once you got the shirt off. Max inhaled deeply trying to look anywhere else once he got into bed. Meeting his gaze, you slowly pulled down your jeans, revealing the lace red thong you had picked for the night. His gaze burned into yours and you climbed into bed next to him, resting your hand on his stomach causing him to take a sharp breath.

"Y/n...." he whispered but you brought a finger to his lips, the alcohol taking over the driver seat of your brain completely.

"Let me give you one last birthday gift," you said and his eyes darkened. Dragging your hand down his body, his eyes squeezed shut as you palmed him over his boxers. Bringing your mouth down, you kissed his lower stomach, all long his underwear line until you finally pulled them down releasing his cock from it's restraints.

You licked a long stripe from the bottom to the tip, meeting his eyes as he watched you with lust.

"Don't tease," he breathed out and you smirked placing a kiss on the head. The sound he made when you finally wrapped your lips around him went straight to your core and his hand found itself tangled in your hair. You reached down to touch yourself as you bobbed up and down moaning on to him.

Max's breaths grew shallow and after a while he pulled you off of him, flipping the two of you so that he was hovering over you. His lips crashed on to yours his fingers moving under your panties.

"So wet for me schatje," he said pulling back from your lips and attaching his mouth to your neck, sucking harshly. You moaned, arching your back as he slipped a finger in you.

"I need you Max," you whined and he pushed off of you, pumping himself a couple of times looking a little unsure. "What?"

"You are drunk," he said. "I don't want to do something you'll regret."

"Trust me, I'm not going to regret this," you replied hazily and he nodded positioning himself at your entrance. You gasped as he pushed in, adjusting to his big size and he groaned into your shoulder. He started moving slowly, bringing his thumb to rub circles on your clit.

"I'm not going to last long," he rasped out and you wrapped your legs around him, driving him deeper as a response.

He set a bruising pace and you felt tears start to leak from your eyes as you clung around him, nails breaking open the skin on his back.

"I'm going to cum Max," you said and he brought his lips back to your neck while still pounding into you bringing you to your climax. You cried out, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashed over you and you felt him grunt as he spilled into you.

Too tired to move, you felt him pull out to head into the bathroom. The bed dipped when he came back and you felt a damp towel along your skin as he cleaned you up. Throwing the towel off the bed he nestled in next to you, pulling you closer and you drifted off to sleep.

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

You woke up to sun shining in your eyes and started to sit up before realizing two arms were wrapped tightly around you. You looked over to see Max snoring next to you and you didn't think anything of it at first because you had spent the night before. But where was your shirt?

You froze as the memories flooded back and you felt your eyes starting to water. Oh my god. You fucked everything up. Friends don't sleep together. Your sniffles caused Max to stir and you slipped out of his arms and climbed out of bed.

"What's wrong y/n?" He asked sleepily, sitting up to look at you. Turning to look at him, his eyes widened as he saw your wet face.

"What did we do?" You cried softly, moving around the bed to try and find your clothes. Taking your reaction as regret, his heart sank.

"Let me get you something else to wear for the ride home," he said with no emotion which ripped your heart in half. Wordlessly he handed you one of his tshirts which you slipped over your head before putting your jeans back on.

Grabbing your bag you made it to the front door and his hand reached out to stop you.

"Y/n.."

"I just can't right now Max okay? I'll see you later," you said walking out the door and wiping your tears.

This is exactly why you wanted to get over this stupid crush. You got too drunk and ruined everything and now he probably thought you were just another girl who wanted to hook up with the Max Verstappen. Dialing Lando's number you begged him to come pick you up.

------- 2 weeks later ------------

You had avoided Max like the plague for the last two weeks. He had tried to call you a couple times after but you declined, too embarrassed to face him. Lando was tired of you skipping social events because of Max which is why you were startled as he barged into your apartment that night.

Sitting on the couch in your pajamas you waited expectantly as Lando stood there crossing his arms.

"This has got to stop," he said and you rolled your eyes. "Get dressed, you're coming to dinner and we're ending this now. You both are being such freaks about this and everyone is sick of it."

"I'm sure no one is even thinking about me not being there," you grumbled turning back to your show.

"Not only is everyone noticing, but everyone is also having to deal with moody Max who is refusing to speak in any conversation or answer any questions about you," he ranted.

"See, everything is ruined." you said and grabbed your shoulders shaking you.

"Everything is ruined because neither of you will stop being pussies and just admit that you are in love with each other."

He dragged you to your closet pulling out something for you to wear and you begrudgingly put it on.

Brushing your hair and applying a light layer of makeup you felt your nerves growing. Lando sighed, watching you.

"Look you have been miserable without him and he has been miserable without you," he said. "That should mean something right?"

"I know it logically makes sense Lan," you said sadly. "I just don't want to get hurt."

Arriving at the restaurant, you took a deep breath before following Lando in. It was just you two, Max, Charles, Alex, and another girl you didn't know that well. There were only two seats open at the table, one next to Charles and the other one was between Max and Charles. Lando practically sprinted to claim the one on the end, leaving you to slide in next to Max. He gave you a soft smile.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," you replied nervously, breaking eye contact to look at the menu. The dinner went by smoothly but awkwardly. You avoided Max's stare, talking to Charles and Alex the whole time while he stayed silent. After a while, you pulled out of the conversation, turning to Max who was staring straight ahead.

"What's wrong?" You asked sighing, no longer caring about how things were. His eyes snapped over to you and he didn't say anything for a while before sliding out of the booth holding his hand out for you. The table was silent.

"Come on," he said and you stared at his hand before taking it, allowing him to pull you up and lead you out of the restaurant. You found yourself standing next to him, overlooking the water behind building. Turning to him you started.

"I'm sorry about that night Max, I was drunk," you said and he looked down to you.

"Why are you sorry?" He pressed. "Are you sorry that you were too loud when I was pounding into you? Or sorry that you didn't kiss me goodbye? Or sorry that you've ignored me for the past two weeks?"

Your face flushed at his crude words and you looked back over the water.

"Friends aren't supposed to sleep together," you muttered.

"You're right," he said and your heart sank. "I don't want to be your friend."

You felt your eyes water as you hung your head down. You were just about to walk away when you felt him grab your arm, pulling you into him. His other arm wrapped around your waist holding you into place.

"I don't want to be your friend," he repeated. "I want to be more than your friend. I want to be the person you see every night right before you close your eyes and every morning when you open them. I want you by my side at every race. I want to stop this madness of lingering around you, pretending that my heart doesn't stop everytime you look at me."

"Max," you said shocked looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I'm in love with you y/n," he said holding your face between his hands. "And I have been for a long time."

"Then why'd you let me leave?"

"You were crying like you had just made the biggest mistake of your life," he said and you huffed.

"Well you should have known.'

He laughed and brought his lips down to yours, meeting you for a sweet short kiss.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B blurbs: Isn’t She Lovely

————————————————————————-

Summary: Joe brings the twins with him to one of his press conferences, but all Miles seems to want is ‘Momma’.

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

*No particular date for this fic!*

(Joe’s pov)

“Joe, my mom’s calling. Can you take the boys with you?” - you

“To my conference??” - Joe

y/n, Tyson, and Miles came over to Paycor today to watch us practice.

Afterward, I and a couple of the other guys stayed back to play football with the kids. The guys made a few jokes after Tyson successfully threw a spiral at two years old. I thought it was accidental, but Ja’marr and Tee swore it was the ‘Burrow gene’.

Now that almost everyone had left the stadium, y/n and the twins were allowed to come into the locker room with me.

y/n got on to me about how messy my locker was. I told her it was fine, but Tee made a ‘Happy wife, happy life’ joke saying I should clean it.

In the end, I knew I would end up doing it anyway to please her because that woman had me wrapped around her finger. She has since high school.

Currently, I was just about to step into the media room when y/n came rushing up to me, the twins behind her, saying that her mom sent a text saying call me ASAP.

Zac had just walked out from his conference, and he heard our conversation.

“You’re allowed to take ‘em in if you want to. I know you would rather be with them than have someone else watch them.” - Zac

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” - Joe

“No problem, kid.” - Zac walked off

y/n stood in front of me, her phone still ringing, and I made a split-second decision.

“Go ahead, I’ll take ‘em, baby.” - Joe

“Thank you, you're the best, Joe.” - you

She looked around to see if anyone was present, and when there wasn't anyone, she pressed a quick peck to my lips.

I watched her speedwalk down the hall toward the women's bathroom to have some privacy, and I bent down to the twin's level.

“You guys have to go in there with me for my press conference, okay? You know those videos you watch of me with Mommy where the people ask me questions?” - Joe

“Yeh!” - Tyson

“You guys are gonna sit on my lap for one, okay? If you wanna leave at any point tell me.” - Joe

“Ok, Dada.” - Tyson

“What about you Miles? Sound good?” - Joe

“Sound great, Daddy.” - Miles

I stood up and picked them both up, one in each arm, and walked into the media room.

It was kinda funny watching the reporter’s faces turn to shock. They knew I was a reserved, closed-off person, and that I hated the media, so for me to bring my kids in here was surprising to them.

Pulling my chair out, I sat down and situated the boys on my lap. One sat on each leg.

Tyson laid his head on my shoulder while Miles was looking around, trying to figure everything out.

“How’s it goin’.” - Joe

Everything was silent.

“What’s this?” - Reporter 1

“A one-time thing.” - Joe chuckled

Everyone in the room laughed before a reporter spoke up.

“Who are these cuties?” - Reporter 2

“They're my two-year-old twins. Wanna say your names?” - Joe

I almost laughed as Miles immediately lept forward and grabbed the mic.

“I’m Miles.” - Miles

His voice was super loud in the speakers from how close he was to the mic, and I couldn't help but bust out laughing.

Eventually, I pulled Miles back into my lap and nudged Tyson. He silently shook his head.

“This is Tyson. He's my little mini-me and doesn't like the media like his daddy.” - Joe

The room laughed again before I continued talking.

“You guys can interact with the boys for a little bit but I'm here to talk football.” - Joe

For the first time since I walked in, the room fell silent, till Miles spoke up.

“Momma!” - Miles

“Someone wants his momma.” - Reporter 3 laughed

“Yeah. She’s on the phone, which is why I had to bring ‘em in here.” - Joe

“Momma?” - Miles looked up at Joe

“She’s on the phone, buddy. If you guys can't already tell, he's a momma’s boy. He’s more like her than me personality-wise.” - Joe

“So he’s social?” - Reporter 2 jokes

I laughed as I nodded my head, finding his dig at me to be funny.

“Momma!” - Miles whined

“Guys, excuse me, but I'm probably gonna have to call my wife.” - Joe

This was the most unorganized thing I've ever done.

Pulling my phone out to call y/n, she answered pretty fast.

“Hello? Are you still in your conference?” - you

“Yes, but can you come get Miles? He wants you like bad.” - Joe

“Oh yeah, of course. I’ll be right there.” - you

“Okay, good. See you in a sec.” - Joe

“I won't say I love you, so you don't have to say it back. I know you don't want that being picked up on the mic.” - you laughed

“I love you too, bye.” - Joe smiled

“What?!” - you

I hung up just after that, not caring that I said it right into the mic.

“She’s coming to get this one.” - Joe

I nodded at Miles, then realized he was waving directly at a female reporter.

Just a few seconds went by before the media room door opened and y/n walked in.

She looked at me, unsure of what to do, so I flicked my head telling her to come in my direction.

y/n walked up the platform steps and took Miles from my lap, who was smiling from ear to ear.

“Do you wanna go with Momma too?” - Joe

Tyson shook his head no and sat up, now facing the room of seated reporters.

I leaned the mic away from my mouth and whispered to y/n.

“Thanks, Mama. You look beautiful by the way. I'll see you after this is over.” - Joe grinned

She grinned at me, her cheeks flushing as she situated Miles on her hip before waking away.

When I faced the reporters and fixed the mic back to point toward my face, they all had smiles on their faces.

“Did… did you guys hear that?” - Joe

All at once they all said yes, yeah, mhm, yup.

My cheeks turned red from embarrassment, this was an absolute trainwreck.

“So… Tyson, what can you tell us about your daddy? What does he do at home?” - Reporter 3

“Uhm…” - Tyson sighed

All of the reporters laughed, finding it so funny that Tyson just pulled something so characteristically me.

“He is just like you!” - Reporter 1

“What do I do at home, Ty?” - Joe

“Kiss Mommy.” - Tyson giggled

I immediately groaned and covered my face with my hand. Tyson kept on laughing, and so were the reporters.

“I’m getting exposed right now.” - Joe

“We, Uhm, pway foot…ball.” - Tyson

“We do.” - Joe nodded

“That’s it.” - Tyson blabbered

The room laughed once again till a reporter spoke up.

“So all he does is kiss your mom and play football?” - Reporter 3

“Mhm!” - Tyson

“Pretty accurate, not gonna lie.” - Joe

“Joe, you're pretty smitten with your wife, yeah?” - Reporter 5

“Have been since high school. She’s the best though. The best mom, wife, best friend… and so much more. She keeps me grounded. I know I usually keep my personal life separate from football, but I love her more than anything.” - Joe

“More than football?” - Reporter 2

“More than anything.” - Joe reiterated

————————————————————————-

Authors note: though Joe would never do this, let's just imagine he would.

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[archiveikemen]

“Don't Look At Anyone But Me” Collection Event

Ring Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

creds. to @/kurishiri for the title translation; i decided to use theirs (w/ permission) because i feel that it's better than what i had ♡

Kate: Um… can I help you?

I made up my mind and turned around to face him. 

Ring Schwartz — he was a member of Vogel, a research organisation under direct command of the German Emperor, with a goal of promoting the societal contributions of Cursed Ones. 

Ring: … Why are you asking me that?

Kate: I’m curious because you’ve been following me since morning…

Although I didn’t exactly sense it or hear his footsteps, Ring’s height made it difficult for him to hide and so it was obvious he was tailing me. 

Ring; Darius ordered me to investigate you. 

(What. Did he just blatantly admit that he’s “investigating me”...!?)

(Is there a reason why he’s being this straightforward…?) 

(In that case, I should be direct in my response too.)

Kate: What do you want to know about me?

Ring: You’ll answer if I ask?

Kate: Yes. As long as I have an answer.

Ring: I want to know… uh…

Ring: … I’ll ask Darius about it later. 

Kate: O-okay… got it. 

(Looks like Ring is absolutely obedient to Darius’ orders…) 

Kate: Do you plan to continue following me after this?

Ring: Yeah.

(What should I do… oh, that’s right!)

Kate: In that case, please make sure you don't leave my side!

Ring: …?

I smiled at the idea I had in mind, and Ring cocked his head in confusion. 

… 

Kate: I had something I wanted to buy, but all the members of Crown are busy today…

Kate: I was able to get permission to go outside today because you’re coming along, so you were a big help! 

Ring: You used my investigation to your advantage… not bad.

Ring: … Also, the fact that an escort is necessary for you shows that you’re someone rather important. 

(It’s actually because I’m under surveillance by Crown, but… I don’t have to tell him that.) 

Kate: I should do something to thank you for going shopping with me.

Ring: … Then stop addressing me as “Ring-san”. It’s uncomfortable.*

Kate: … Shall I address you as “Ring-kun”, then?*

* For consistency's sake, I'll drop the honorifics as I always do in my IkeVil translations.

Ring: I don’t mind. That’s fine. 

(He says he’s fine with it…) 

(He’s wary of me one moment, and the next thing I know he's allowing me to address him in a more friendly manner… Ring’s a mysterious one.) 

While I was distracted by Ring, I accidentally bumped into a man passing by. 

Boorish Man: Ah!? Watch where you’re walkin’!

Kate: I-I’m sorry! I’ll be more careful. 

Boorish Man: Pay for my medical bill. If ya ain’t got money… I don’t mind if ya pay with yer body. 

The moment the man sneered and reached out to grab my arm— 

Ring: I was ordered not to cause trouble in public. … Let’s escape. 

Ring grabbed my arm and started running. 

…

Boorish Man: Where did she go!? I won’t let her escape!

Kate: Ah… it’s a dead end. 

Ring: Hide here. 

Ring pushed me into the storage shed of a nearby private residence before slipping in. 

The shed wasn’t very spacious, so the two of us were crammed together. 

Ring: Hold your breath until he leaves.

Kate: O-okay…

The sounds of Ring’s breathing and heartbeat were especially loud in the silence. 

Seemingly having felt the same way, Ring spoke up to break the awkward tension. 

Ring: T-there's something I want to ask… um… what’s this smell coming from you? 

Kate: I didn’t put on any fragrance today, so I don’t think I smell like anything in particular…

Ring: Is that so…

Ring: … Then this must be your natural scent. 

Kate: Oh, I’m so sorry. I must be reeking of sweat from all that running. 

Ring: Y-you don’t! It’s a dizzying, pleasant scent… I just wanted to know what it was….

Ring: I like this scent much, I want to keep smelling it forev—...

Kate: …

Ring: … [shocked]

Ring: Oh, uh…! … My bad. That was a weird thing to say. 

Ring: Uhh, umm… 

Ring: Hm…? What’s this over here? Is this something from inside this shed? 

Ring: It’s very soft when I poke it with my finger… it feels nice to touch. 

Kate: T-that’s….

Kate: My… breast…

Ring: …………… breast. 

Kate: S-sorry. It’s too cramped here and we ended up touching… 

Ring: …………… ah.

Ring: WAAAHHHHHH!! 

With a yell that sounded almost like a distressed cry, Ring jumped out of the shed.

Afterwards, I heard a loud thud as though something was hit, followed by complete silence.

(W-what just happened…?) 

Cautiously, I stepped out of the shed— 

— I saw Ring sheath his sword, and the man who had been chasing me laid unconscious on the ground.

Kate: Um… 

Ring: … I didn't kill him. Only knocked him out with the hilt. 

(Amazing. He knocked the guy out in an instant…) 

Ring: Damn, had I known that sort of thing would happen, I would've done this sooner.

(“That sort of thing”... he’s referring to accidentally touching my breast, right?) 

Kate: I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.

Rings Uncomfortable…? No, it wasn't uncomfortable.

Ring: If anything, it felt goo—...

Kate: …? 

Ring: N-n-no-nothing! It was an accident… sorry. F-forget whatever happened just now! 

Ring: I’ll also… um… try hard to forget everything. I’ll try my best not to think about it… um.

Kate: O-okay…

(Perhaps… Ring isn’t a scary person at all, unlike my first impression of him.)

…

Darius: Welcome back, Ring. How did investigating the robin go? 

Ring: Yeah… I’ll report my findings.

Ring: She… smells so nice that it makes my head spin.

Darius: … Huh?

Ring: Her chest— not just that, her whole body is completely different from a man's! It’s so soft and fluffy… 

Nika: …

Ring: Also… she possesses the ability to have a tight grip on a person’s heart.

Ring: Being together with her makes my heart race… that must be the kind of curse she has!

Darius: … I see? So she’s a possessor of such a terrifying power. 

Darius: I was thinking of having you continue investigating her for some time, but now it seems that she might be too much for you to handle—

Ring: No, it's dangerous for you and Nica to go near her. She might make your heart race so fast that it stops beating. 

Ring: I want to continue investigating her for a while because it’s too dangerous. 

Darius: Your strong sense of responsibility is praiseworthy, Ring. Alright, I’ll leave it to you. 

Ring: Yeah. I’ll most definitely defeat this ability of hers. 

Ring left the room.

Darius and Nica looked at each other. 

Nica: … Pfft, AHAHAHAHA! 

Nica: *sigh*... my younger brother is so adorable, isn’t he? I had a hard time holding back my laughter until he left the room.

Nica: By the way… can I share my thoughts on why you let Ring be the one to investigate the robin?

Nica: The robin was the most wary of Ring’s tough attitude, so it’d make things easier for us if she lets her guard down sooner. 

Nica: And if luck is on our side, Ring and the robin will get closer, and… oops, is it not part of the plan to reach that point? 

Darius: …

Nica: What if Ring ends up falling in love with the robin?

Darius: That won’t happen.

Darius: After all… it’s said that puppy love never works out, you know? 

[lowlights]

Hi. I'm back, and I wrote this in about an hour so be nice. This is 100% inspired by @ezrasbirdie's Twinkle and the very lovely dream it gave me. So this is Birdee's fault.

*

Perfect Fit

Frankie Morales x plus size f!reader // 1.3k

Warnings: Reader is a curvy lady with big titties and a belly, f receiving oral, mutual masturbation, cum eating, lots of praise, language, a smidge of insecurity but it doesn't last long, reader borrows Frankie's shirt, a very feral Frankie who has got it BAD for reader. Use of good girl and bebita. I also maintain that Frankie is a babbler during sex. Oh also Frankie is in sweatpants, which is a gift to us all.

*

The flickering lights of the TV lit up your face, an old rom-com from the '90s that you had seen a million times playing on the screen. You laughed at every joke, even though you could recite every line if asked. Frankie heard you mutter them under your breath sometimes, which he would have found annoying if it had been anyone else. Never with you though. 

He wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention to the movie, though.

Not for the past twenty minutes at least. Not when you were wearing those leggings and his threadbare grey t-shirt which you had borrowed for the night. Frankie could barely drag his eyes away from how his shirt pulled tight on your gorgeous tits or how the hem had rolled up just enough to show your soft tummy. 

He felt like a pervert ogling you like a fucking teenager who could barely control himself, even though you had been dating for more than six months. He was allowed to ogle, but you had just had a week from hell at work and had been looking forward to a relaxing night at Frankie’s place. He could keep his hands off of you for a couple of hours so you could watch your favorite movie in peace. 

You shifted slightly on his brown leather sectional and leaned into him, tucking your legs up and under you. Frankie stiffened, and you noticed. Normally he would put his hand on your knee or his arm around your shoulder. Instead, his hands flexed as he straightened out invisible wrinkles on his sweatpants.

“You alright, babe?” You pushed a stray curl behind Frankie’s ear. You made a mental note to give him a haircut this weekend. You’d been putting it off; you liked his hair on the longer side. 

“Fine, fine. Just, uh- gonna go get a glass of water.” He stood up so quickly that you practically fell over. 

“I…okay?” you mumbled as he made a beeline for the kitchen. He was gone long enough for the movie to culminate with the big romantic kiss and the happily ever after, making his way back to the couch as you clicked off the credits. He settled back next to you but a little further away than before and stared straight ahead. 

Doubt gnawed at you. “Are you upset with me, Frankie? Is it because I made you watch this dumb movie again?” you asked softly, fiddling with one of your rings. The relationship was still new enough that you didn’t know how to read all of his emotions just yet.

His head whipped around. “What? No! Not at all, baby. I’m just- tired. You’re tired too, yeah? Should we go to bed?” His eyes darted down to your shirt, which made you realize how far it had ridden up. 

You pulled down on it out of habit, and Frankie frowned. “Are you sure?” you asked. 

Frankie shook his head. “C’mere,” he instructed as he helped you over to straddle his hips. You draped your arms around his broad shoulders, gasping slightly as he rolled his erection against you. “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy, baby. Do you know that? Feel what you do to me?” 

“But I haven’t been doing anything?” You were genuinely confused. 

Frankie nuzzled his nose against your chest, breathing heavily. “You look so good in my shirt. Damn, it fits you just fucking right.” 

You cupped his face and pulled him up for a kiss, his tongue immediately begging for entrance. Frankie kissed you like it was his last chance, like you were the last gasp of air he would ever take. “This shirt barely fits,” you admitted when you both broke to catch your breath. 

“It’s perfect,” he said adamantly. “Don’t ever wear anything else.” 

You giggled and kissed him again before he lifted you off and leaned you back so you could stretch out on the chaise portion of the couch. He had fucked you more than once here in the months since he had bought it. A christening, he had called it, the night it had been delivered. 

Without a word, Frankie helped you shimmy out of your leggings and underwear, stopping to stare at you as he tossed them over his shoulder. You smiled, and felt powerful. No man ever looked at you the way Frankie had looked at you since the first night you met. He was enraptured, enthralled. And he looked like he wanted to feast on you. You bent one knee up and let it fall against the couch. His cock noticeably jumped, pressing against his sweats. 

“Oh fuck. Look at my girl, she looks so pretty.” Frankie settled on his belly and pulled your leg up over his shoulder. He left a trail of kisses up your inner thigh before softly kissing your cunt. He buried his nose against your curls and inhaled deeply. “Smell so fucking good for me.” 

Frankie wasted no time and licked a slow and tortuous stripe up your slit before flicking his tongue against your clit. He built a steady pace, pushing you to the edge and easing back over and over again. 

“Christ, Frankie, oh my- Frankie, Frankie, Frankie,” you babbled as you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him against your cunt as it clenched around nothing. He licked up everything you gave him before standing up and ripping off his clothes, his cock bobbing as he stepped out of his pants. His chin was wet with your orgasm, and his pupils looked blown out. 

“Bebita, I need you to touch yourself. Rub that gorgeous clit, please? Please, baby,” he begged, stroking and squeezing himself as you gently rubbed circles on your sensitive clit. “Such a good girl, doing just what I ask.” 

His praise made something low in your stomach clench and you arched your hips up, eyes fluttering closed.

“No, bebita, look at me, please. Lemme see those eyes. Yes, yes. Can you put a finger inside?” he practically begged, hand quickening over his leaking cock. 

“Yes, Frankie,” you shuddered as you exhaled, slipping one finger easily into your relaxed cunt. 

“Another, baby, please?” He moaned, never taking his eyes off you, as you complied and added in a second finger. He watched you move them in and out, snaking your other hand down to rub on your clit. “I’m so close, where- where can I? Quick, tell me.” 

You pulled your fingers out and spread your legs wide. “Here, Frankie, here.” The words had barely left your mouth before he was standing over you, one knee resting on the couch as he decorated your pussy with ropes of cum. You gripped his thigh and watched as he worked himself through his orgasm. He was always so pretty when he came, mouth open and dark brown eyelashes grazing against his cheeks. 

Frankie bent over to where you leaned against the cushion so he could kiss you, whispering praise between each breath and lick of his tongue. “Gonna get you cleaned up,” he said finally. 

You expected him to go get a washcloth from the bathroom - he always made sure it was nice and warm - but instead, he settled back between your thighs. “Frankie?” you squeaked as he started licking your inner thigh. 

“I said I need to clean you up, baby. Now take off that shirt and let me see those pretty tits?” He looked up at you with pleading eyes. You would do anything he asked, and in this moment he knew it. You tossed your shirt over your head and Frankie rolled your nipple between his thumb and finger as he dove back down between your thighs. 

“Good girl, always so good for me,” he hummed as he licked himself off of you. “Gonna make you come again on my tongue, then I’m gonna make you come on my cock. Gonna have you all night, bebita.” 

You threw your head back as he sucked gently on your clit. “All this because I wore your shirt?” you chuckled. 

Frankie was too busy to respond. But he made good on his promises that night. 

And always left the shirt out for you to wear whenever you wanted. 

[drabblesandimagines]

Hitched

Leon Kennedy x fem reader, established relationship Couple of swears, mentions of blood

The sudden noise behind you sends you spinning on your heels to confront it. Your pistol is raised, finger slightly squeezing the trigger in preparation to blow the next monstrosity’s head off only to see Leon’s alarmed face, his hands up in surrender, gun dangling from his grip.

“Whoa, baby, it’s just me.”

You exhale in relief, immediately dropping and holstering your weapon. “Sorry – jumpy. You okay?”

You look him up and down, looking for injuries after you’d been separated a little while ago. It felt like every other mission these days led to the two of you working your way through underground caverns, as evil scientists seem to just love setting up their bases there, with ill-maintained wooden walkways that collapsed below your feet. Leon had gone toppling down the last one, reassuring you he was fine - he did always manage to forward roll his way out of taking any impact – and said by the map he’d pilfered from one of the supply rooms, it looks like your paths would cross again eventually and it meant the two of you could cover more ground until then.

“I’m fine. You, however…” He steps forward, grasps you by the elbow and pulls it up gently in front of you to reveal a nasty slice across your forearm, dripping blood on the dirt.

“Slashed out at me as I took it out. Misjudged the space. I blame the moody lighting.” You joke, but Leon doesn’t respond, inspecting the damage.

“I’m okay. We should keep moving, we can’t be far from-”

“Uh-uh. Come on, there’s an alcove just back this way to provide us some cover whilst I see to this.” His grip is still firmly on your elbow as he tugs you back the way he emerged from.

“I promise I’m fine.”

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna leave a blood trail if we don’t. Besides, as your fiancé, I insist.”

The fiancé card is not one that Leon pulls out often on a mission, but has started to do so considering how long your engagement has been. He’d proposed two years ago, literally the moment he got you within eyesight as he returned from a solo mission to Spain to rescue the President’s daughter. He didn’t have a ring – later rectified – but just dropped to his knees and asked you to become his wife. It wasn’t like you hadn’t started wedding planning. There was a folder of brochures under the coffee table, half-drafted emails to venues and caterers on your laptop, saved photos of wedding gowns and centerpieces… But it just felt impossible to ever truly put a plan in place, nail down a concrete date, you didn’t know where the two of you were going to be one month from the next. Sorry, terrorism, could you wait a week or two for the Kennedy wedding to pass first?

“Okay.” You concede and allow him to guide you back a few hundred metres to the alcove – it’s more a deep crevice in the wall, but it won’t be obvious the two of you are hiding in there if anyone or anything was to stroll by.

“Sit.” He points to the space furthest back and you drop down, crossing your legs beneath you so he can crouch down in front. You lay your wounded arm out in front of you with a slight wince. If you were being honest, it did hurt.

“Here, chew this. It’ll make you feel better.” He passes you one of those stupid green herbs from his supplies. The man swears by them as a natural pain reliever – useful in a bind, he claims.

“Ugh, really? But they’re so bitter.” You shake your head, “I’ll be fine without.”

He quirks his eyebrow at you, pulling out a roll of gauze from one of his pouches to begin to dress your wound. “Sweetheart, either you chew it, or I will go mamma bird on your ass, chew it for you and then kiss you so hard you’ll have no other choice but to swallow.”

You laugh, dryly. “I think that might be the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Chew.”

Again, you concede. Leon won’t stop at anything to ensure you’re taken care of. As his gentle fingers begin to wrap the bandage tightly around your wound in an effort to stem the bleeding, you crunch the herb between your teeth. It’s scratchy, horrendously bitter, makes you want to gag almost. You can’t chew fast enough to get rid of it. He is right about them, though – a moment or two later the stabbing, stinging pain in your forearm where the creature slashed you dulls to a low, much more tolerable ache.

He has a smug look on his face, knowing your tells too well.

“Told you it would make you feel better.”

He finishes wrapping the gauze around your arm and ties it off with a tight knot, slicing the excess off with his knife. He puts away the roll before he turns and sits down besides you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest, kissing your crown. You can feel his heart pounding beneath your cheek – he was worried about you. He knows you can take care of yourself, you’ve been through as much hell as he has, but seeing you injured always sets him off.

You know you should press on – BOWs wait for no man - but it’s clear the two of you need a moment to catch your breath, take stock of what’s occurred, work out how you’ve ended up here - again.

You begin to fiddle with the engagement ring that hangs around your neck. Too much risk wearing it on your finger when out on missions, but it felt odd and wrong to leave it at home on your dressing table, so you’d settled for having it like this, tucking it away on a chain out of sight, but playing with it had soon turned into a nervous habit.

Leon clocks your fidgeting immediately and takes your hand, lacing his fingers through. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing. Just… thinking.”

“About?” He probes, gently.

“What we’re doing here.”

“You forget the brief?” Leon teases and you elbow him lightly in the stomach – not that you’d manage much damage given how muscular he is.

“Like, is this just our life now? Every couple of months, another set of BOWs appears, we deal with and eliminate - rinse and repeat.”

“I…” He sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I hope not. I’d like to think that one day we stop them all and we get a pretty sweet retirement package.”

“I want to get married.” You say, softly.

“Hey, I’m the one who did the proposing, you’re the one who said you wanted to wait until-”

“I know, but I don’t want to wait anymore. I can’t keep holding off for a big event that I’m not sure we’ll ever get to have.” You pause a moment as you sit up, turning to face him head on. “The second we are out of here, I want to marry you.”

“Seriously?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Seriously. Registry office. We’ll wear what we’re wearing – blood splatters, camos, bruises, all of that. I don’t care. I just want to be your wife already.”

“My wife, huh?” He grins at the idea. “Yeah, I want that too. I can’t lie, though, I was looking forward to seeing you in a wedding dress.”

“You will. We’ll do that later – a party or whatever, something that can be rescheduled easy enough if the world goes to shit. But this, this can just be us, huh?”

“Just us, baby.” He places a hand on the side of your face and guides you in for a heated kiss, teasing your bottom lip with his teeth until you permit his tongue entrance and the wrestle for dominance begins. After a moment or two, you place your palm flat on his chest and push back.

“We’re getting distracted, Leon.”

“We sure are.” He gets to his feet and offers you his hand, pulling you up with ease. “Come on, let’s go kill these bastards and get hitched.”

“Took the words outta my mouth, handsome.”

--

“Okay, Leon said it was casual, but I didn’t picture this casual.” Hunnigan appears behind you in the restroom mirror, dressed in her usual work suit, albeit with a paper bag in hand. Leon had radio’ed in as soon as your objective was clear – DSO teams swooping in to clear up and confiscate and destroy the weapons retrieved – and asked Hunnigan to get them into the registry office today.

“Yeah, we were going for work casual, but we had to leave the weapons in the SUV.” You shrug, washing the grime off your face in the sink. You supposed you should at least prep that much. “Thank you for getting us in.”

She shrugs, “It was one of Leon’s easier requests, funnily enough.” She holds the bag in front of her in offering. “For you.”

“Just me?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t think Leon will like it as much.” You take the bag with a smile and place it down on the counter to open it – a small bouquet of white daisies within.

“Just so I can catch the bouquet, obviously.”

--

Hunnigan acts as the witness, of course, as you find yourself standing in front of the officiant. He barely batted an eyelid at your attire and you think he must’ve seen all sorts come through the door in his time, so the couple who decided to get married in tactical gear, bruised and bandaged, is just another day.

“Do we have rings?” The officiant questions and before you can say no, Hunnigan steps forward again, handing over a box.

“Should’ve known you’d have our ring sizes on file.” Leon laughs.

“Had a suspicion it might come in handy one day.” She smiles, taking her place back in a seat behind the two of you. The officiant opens the box to reveal two simple gold wedding bands.

Leon takes your hand then – his leather gloves removed for the occasion – and smiles. He’s got a bruise blossoming on his left cheek, his hair’s a beautiful mess, but he’s here and you’re here and it’s perfect.

“If you’ll repeat after me.” The officiant looks at Leon, who continues to look lovingly at you, biting his lip in an excited smile. “I, Leon Scott Kennedy…”

He wets his lips with his tongue and squeezes your hand. “I, Leon Scott Kennedy….”

The vows are over before you know it. You feel giddy, a combination of exhaustion and love, surely.

“I pronounce you husband and wife. It gives me great honour to introduce to you,” he looks at Hunnigan, “the new Mr and Mrs Kennedy. You may now kiss the bride.”

Leon doesn’t hesitate, pulling you in close and into a bruising kiss, dipping you back a little before returning you to your feet. “Just a little show for our guest.” He whispers in your ear, nodding his head over at an applauding Hunnigan.

“Dare I ask about honeymoon plans?” Hunnigan comments as the three of you exit the registry office. “I’m expecting the two of you back in HQ tomorrow for a debrief, after all.”

“I don’t know. Any ideas, beautiful?” Leon brings up your hand to his mouth, placing a kiss across your knuckles, the gold band sitting snugly on your ring finger.

“Yeah, I have one.” You nod. “I wanna burger – a real greasy one – and fries. And a beer.”

“I knew there was a good reason I married you.” He drops your hand and wraps his arm around your waist and slips another under your knees, sweeping you off your feet and into his arms and you squeal.

“Gotta carry my beautiful wife over the threshold of the nearest diner, don’t I?”

You grin. “That is the tradition. Oh, and speaking of traditions…” You toss the bouquet over Leon’s shoulder into Hunnigan’s arms. “Look who’s next!”

“On second thought…” she walks over to you and places them back into your hands, “keep it. I might as well wait for the redo. See you tomorrow, lovebirds. As a wedding gift, I won’t expect you in until the afternoon.”

“Too kind, Hunnigan.” Leon smirks as she waves over her shoulder and heads towards the parking lot.

Once she’s out of sight, you grab the back of your husband’s head, pulling him down into a chaste kiss and smile up at him. “I love you, Leon.”

“I love you too, Mrs Kennedy.”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x 400 Followers Event.

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[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 15: Let's Talk About That

Word Count: 1000

Rating: T

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

CW: Langauge

Summary: Modern AU - Corroded Coffin hosts a live stream and fans notice you walk through the background

@corrodedcoffinfest

“Nooooo,” you whine, fingers digging into Eddie’s t-shirt to try and pull him closer to you. 

“Babe, I have to,” Eddie says through a laugh. But he does give you one last quick kiss. “I’ll come back when the live stream is over, okay?”

“Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll just be waiting here. On your bed. All alone.”

Eddie chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. You playfully tug on one of the strands of hair framing his face since the rest is tucked up in a bun.

“You could get something to eat and read the script for the movie your agent got you an audition for.”

“As long as you promise to come back with cuddles and kisses,” you say with a pout.

“Always.” He presses one last kiss to the side of your head before walking toward the door. “We’ll be in the garage.”

“Have fun.”

Eddie joins the rest of the band in the garage, which half of has been made into a studio. Jeff’s leaning on a desk, tapping at his phone when Eddie hears him groan.

“What’s up?” Eddie asks.

“I can’t get this damn thing to work. Keeps saying it can’t load Instagram. Is the site just down?” Jeff looks over his shoulder at the guys.

“Here, lemme see it,” Gareth says, holding his hand out. Jeff gives it over and the youngest member of the band starts trying to get the app to work. “I think it’s just the WiFi in the garage. It’s shitty in here some days.”

“Where else should we do it?” Jeff asks, pushing himself out of the chair.

“Kitchen?” Frank offers. “We can sit on the barstools at the counter.”

“Excellent idea, my friend,” Eddie says, nodding his head in Frank’s direction. 

Jeff grabs the tripod and the four guys head back into the house. 

Eddie pops the phone into the holder and switches the ring light on.

“Okay, let’s go,” Jeff says as he slips onto one of the stools. “We said we’d start this stream at two and we’re cutting it close.”

The rest of the guys pull their seats in as close as possible while Jeff pulls up Corroded Coffin’s Instagram page and starts up a live video.

“Hey!” Jeff greets. “We’re here.”

“After a few issues,” Gareth adds.

“There’s only one week left before our new album drops,” Jeff continues. “Anyone pre-order it yet?”

A stream of comments starts pouring in faster than any of the guys can read them.

“Whoa, seems like a lot of you have,” Eddie says as he scans them quickly. 

“Oh my God,” Gareth says with a laugh. He points to a comment, but it goes too fast before the others can see it. “Someone said, ‘Eddie’s bun is giving sexy librarian.’”

All eyes turn to Eddie and, instantly, all four friends crack up. 

“Holy shit, I’d hate to go to that library,” Frank says as the laughter only gets louder.

The guys are making too much noise to hear Eddie’s bedroom door open, but the sound of their laughter instantly makes you smile as you walk to the bathroom at the other end of the hall. 

“Oh, that was good,” Gareth says, wiping beneath his eyes to get rid of tears that overflowed. 

“Okay,” Jeff says as he catches his breath. “Any questions about the album now?”

His eyes look down to where the messages come in at a mile a minute, but it seems like none of them are talking about the album anymore. Or Eddie’s hair. Now they’re talking about a certain actress they saw walk by in the background of the video.

Was that her?!

Omg what is she doing there

AHHH IS SHE DATING ONE OF THEM?!?!

Eddie feels his muscles tighten as he sees the comments going by. He likes to keep his personal life private. This is no one’s fault though; he told you they were going to be in the garage, not in the house. And what, were you not allowed to go to the bathroom in your boyfriend’s home? No, this was just all one big accident that is now going to lead to speculation and rumors. 

“Oh, uh, good question,” Gareth says when one about the album pops up. All four guys have had enough PR training to know they don’t acknowledge the unexpected topic. “We wrote most of these songs for the album, yes, but some are songs that we wrote years ago that just haven’t been released yet.”

Once the live stream ends, Eddie heads back into his room where you’re lounging on his bed, on your phone. 

You let it fall to your chest when you see your boyfriend and open your arms for him. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Eddie’s laying down beside you, the two of you wrapped up in one another’s arms. 

“How was the stream?” 

Your boyfriend chuckles and drops his forehead against yours. 

“I can probably find it on the internet already…” He picks your phone up and opens google. A search for news about Corroded Coffin yields the expected result. Eddie chuckles and turns the phone so you can see. “Here.”

Corroded Coffin Star Dating Award Winning Actress? But Which Band Member Is It?!

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen as you click on the article. It’s not long before your eyes catch, “…was seen walking in the background of their latest live stream…”

“Oh my God! No! Eddie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize that—”

“It’s okay, baby.” Eddie’s grinning as he hugs you even tighter against him. “Honestly, I’m curious for the articles to come out, guessing which one of us you’re with.”

“There’s going to be ones saying I’m dating all of you at the same time, aren't there?” 

Eddie laughs and presses his lips to your forehead.

“Probably. But you’re stuck with me, baby. The sexy librarian and the sexy actress.”

You stare at Eddie, laughter slowly creeping in on your utter confusion.

“What?!”

[jiwoneiric]

give me your forever

the world is against you, except one.

pairing: non-idol!pham hanni x bestfriend!reader

genre: hurt comfort

tags: y/n got her heart broken, pham hanni isn't having any of it, y/n is ofc a '04 liner, y/n is much taller than hanni.

warning: cursing, self-hatred, injuries, self-doubts

word counts: 1.8k

playlist

you are never going to be enough for anyone.

the last sentence your girlfriend said to you lingers in your mind.

wait, no.

she’s your ex-girlfriend now.

it was the last thing she said to you and the last thing you have heard from anyone since you drowned yourself in the comfort of your bed. you’ve cried a lot. too much to the point you can’t physically cry anymore. it’s like you have run out of tears to let out. your friends have simultaneously come and go to your dormitory room but no one could get over the other side of the wall. 

well, at least, not yet.

you know deep inside that you will only allow your best friend to do so but her being MIA for the past few days got you worried, and inevitably hurt. 

where did she go? is she sick? or is she just going to abandon you like jinah did?

her absence affects you so much but you don’t have the energy to reach out, adding to the fact that what jinah said to you has affected you significantly.

so, you just wait, albeit the sting on your heart starts to grow into a punch on your heart.

you know your friends are getting worried with the nonstop notifications and ringtones ringing from your phone but you still lay lifelessly on your bed.

it is not that you like jinah that much but the way she took your heart and stomped on that poor thing two days ago hurt you a little bit too much. you hated how you remember vividly the way she slipped out all those words about you being undeserving of being loved, about you being so egoistic that no one would dare to look your way again.

and it is all because of the dare she took from her best friend, who turned out to be one of the suitors you have rejected in the past.

was your rejection too harsh? you don’t think so. you rejected her politely, saying how she is a good person but you are not interested in having a romantic relationship with her. so, why was jinah’s best friend so mad?

or was it jinah who was mad all along?

you don’t know and thinking about the possibilities hurts your head so bad so you shrug it off.

and a soft knock on your door pulls your attention.

“choi y/n?”

the long-awaited voice has finally arrived. you smile bitterly before standing up to open the door for her.

“hey—”

you hadn’t finished greeting her when you got engulfed in a tight hug from pham hanni. reciprocating the hug, you freeze when she lets out a wince.

“han?”

“i’m fine, i’m fine.”

not convinced, you break the hug immediately and the sight in front of you causes you to gasp loudly.

hanni has bandages all over her arms. her left cheek is in the shade of dark purple, most probably from a punch or two.

“w-what happened?”

your sorrow is neglected as worries fill your entire system. knowing that han won’t budge, you immediately yet carefully guide her to take a seat on the side of your bed.

“y/n—”

“who did you beat?”

you say sternly, giving hanni zero chance to change the topic.

“or, should i ask, who the hell beaten you up?”

you let out a grunt when all she did was look away, avoiding your questions like the plague. you are not in a good mood so her act irritates you more than it should.

“if you are not going to tell me, just go.”

that sentence was what you needed to make her look your way again. you know you caught her off-guarded with those words, causing her to panic almost instantly.

“o—okay! i’ll tell you! just…”

her voice dies down but you wait, knowing how she needs some time to rethink her decision and let the silence engulf the room.

“i kinda need a hug…”

you noticed the pained and drained look on her face and immediately agreed in silence as you climbed your bed to lie down before patting the space beside you.

once you think she’s comfortable in her position, you pull her into your embrace. a smile formed on your face when you heard her contented sigh.

“so, the thing is that i was really really mad, and still am, to be very honest, at that damn jinah so i kinda went up to her when i saw her walking outside yesterday.”

“so you throw the punch first, hm?”

you giggle softly when hanni can only let out a whine.

“i mean, she looked so smug at that time i couldn’t hold myself back any more!”

you feel hanni’s grip on your shirt tighten. you love how you can read hanni like an open book and the fact that she only acts like this with you. you keep caressing her silky hair that recently got shorter since she said she wants a change in her so-called dull life, in an attempt to comfort her and yourself. 

“oh no, yn…”

you are so surprised by hanni’s words that you pull back from the embrace to ensure she’s fine.

“why? why? are you hurting somewhere?”

you are left confused as hanni buries her face into your neck.

“the one who should do the comforting is me, not you…”

oh.

you are dazed upon the realisation that you forgot about your feelings the moment you saw hanni in front of your door earlier.

“it’s ok—”

you couldn’t finish your sentence when hanni wiggled her way out of your embrace and sat up immediately before looking back at you.

“what did she say to you?”

you stifled your laugh upon seeing her sudden serious face but to be honest, she just looks super cute right now with her lips pursed and her eyebrows so close to each other.

but still, your smile wears down while sitting up when you get taken back to the scene that happened two days ago. when jinah took your heart and stomped it on the ground heartlessly—as if she’s the one being taken her heart away—before throwing out the haunting sentence that filled up your mind.

you didn’t realise how long you were completely quiet until you registered han’s soft and gentle touch on your arm.

“do you want to tell me what happened?”

you hesitate a bit, wary about putting burdens on your best friend’s shoulder.

but the said best friend can also read you like an open book. before you can decline her, she encourages you first.

“just so you know, you won’t burden me with this at all.”

your heart suddenly clenched, your eyes suddenly filled with tears and your head hung low as you bit your lower lips when hanni started caressing your hair.

your resistance has proven weak, especially in hanni’s arms when you started sobbing your heart out while the caressing on your hair gets even gentler than you thought was possible.

“it’s okay, y/n. let it all out. i’m here to catch you. i’m here.”

hanni’s heart breaks when she feels your grip on her shirt tighten alongside your loudened sobs. a tinge of anger seeps inside her heart upon the thought of what jinah had done to make you cry so miserably. even if you won’t tell her what happened, she’ll make sure jinah will pay the price.

“sh-she said that it was all for a revenge b-because i rejected her best friend before.”

you managed to slip it out without stuttering much. you expected hanni to shout her anger like she always does when you’re feeling down because of someone else but all she did was furrow her eyebrows and caress your hair, signing that she’s trying her best to let you let your feelings all out.

“and sh-she said that,”

you gulp your tears down, feeling your heart clenched even harder at the flashback in your head.

“that i will never be enough for anyone…”

the way your voice quietens down hurts hanni’s heart so bad.

“you might not believe me now, y/n but you are more than enough for me”

“how can i be, han?” 

you deny weakly. everyone who knows choi y/n know how strong-minded you are, and how you never get wavered by people’s talks. how you always managed to stand straight no matter what fell upon you.

but this time, it hurts you so bad knowing that someone you allow yourself to be vulnerable with thinks of you like that.

“y/n..”

“jinah won't say it if she didn’t mean it, didn’t she?”

“either she meant it or not, she’s so wrong, y/n. you are everything to me, you are enough to be my best friend, you are enough as my listener and you are also enough to be my menace too.”

you smile a bit when hanni ends her assurance with a light chuckle.

“really?”

“yeah.”

“even when i ghosted you for two days straight?”

“it’s understandable, y/n. you were hurt, still are, and it is just right for me to give you space for a little bit.”

the past few days you were so mad at her for not checking up on you when all she was trying to do was to give you space to recollect yourself. a small frown appears upon the disappointment hits you. you were cut off from your thoughts when you felt hanni’s small fingers drawing circles and patterns on the back of your hands.

“what’s wrong, hm?”

“I was so mad at you thinking that you didn’t care about me but it turned out that you care the most…”

your heart breaks a little upon seeing the surprise on hanni’s face.

“oh, y/n… i should have told you first, shouldn’t i?"

you shake your head, disagreeing with her.

“no, no. i should have known better, han. seriously.”

she probably sensed that you are not hiding anything as she proceed to tuck your head under her neck while caressing your hair.

a comfortable silent fills the room, driving you sleepy with the warmth of hanni’s embrace. 

"you're not falling asleep on me, are you?" 

"uhuh..." 

you try to force your eyes open for just a little while but the sleepless nights have caught on you. you let hanni lay you down before pulling you into her embrace once again. hanni’s soft chuckle is the last thing you heard before you were taken to dreamland.

hanni smiles fondly, letting her finger graze on your face, touching every detail on it that she had long engraved in her memory.

“have a good sleep, my love.”

she kisses your forehead so softly as if you are a valuable masterpiece. her heart swollen upon hearing your contented sigh.

“i wish i could hold you like this forever, y/n.”

hanni confesses, pulling you impossibly closer to herself as she, too, drifts into dreamland.

a/n: thank you for giving this a read! feel free to leave a request on my ask :D comments and reblogs are so appreciated :))))

p/s: might do a second part since I'm on my sem break idk hihi

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Thinking about Frank Castle x Avengers!Reader

You met him through Bucky because Sam would obviously try and find Bucky a veteran's support group like the one he ran in CATWS but in Brooklyn - which led him to Curtis' group (I've put this HC in previous writing and I stand by it)

You're roommates with Sam and Bucky and occasionally they host poker night with some of the guys and one night you come home from an evening stroll to a kitchen table of vets and beer and cards.

You smile shyly and say hi to the group and Frank is instantly smitten.

But it takes weeks of casual small talk and asking Bucky about you for him to finally pluck up the courage to ask you out.

Once you make things official, he doesn't want anyone coming after you in retaliation against him plus he's so scared to lose yet another person he cares about. So he asks to keep your relationship secret even from the rest of the Avengers, which makes you roll your eyes because you have super powers you'd be fine to defend yourself against any of Frank's enemies.

Frank also worries you might be a little ashamed of him publicly. He thinks it might be harder on you if the world knew you were dating a criminal vigilante. Avengers get lots of press and attention and he'd hate to bring his drama into it and hurt your image and potentially all the good you do in the world even if you don't give a shit about the publicity side of it.

Which means a lot of sneaking around - dates in darkly lit restaurants and such.

Date nights frequently get postponed because you getting called on last minute missions or Frank takes longer hunting down a gang than he was anticipating.

Even if you go weeks without seeing each other because of your busy work lives, the love is always still there and you both do a great job of making up for lost time.

When you give him recaps of your recent missions, he always scoffs and gets worried about your safety and asks you not to go into such dangerous situations but obviously you have to it's your job.

So you at some point have to make a rule that he gets no interference in your work stuff. He can make any request in your civilian life to keep you safe (ie. you can't go out at night without him, etc.) but is not allowed to make any requests about your job.

Until inevitably your work crosses paths with his work because the street level gangs and mob bosses he takes down tend to have ties to bigger things like Hydra and such.

One night you're at a warehouse upstate following a lead on a Hydra weapons facility and bump into Frank who was tracking down a human trafficking ring that was also linked to the same address.

Since he knows you, Bucky and Sam, he agrees to help the Avengers just this one time.

You could never convince him to join up and "go legit" no matter how hard you tried. He liked working alone and with noone giving him orders.

As you raid the warehouse and take down the enemy, he's aghast at seeing you put yourself in harms way so flippantly but you have powers and Shield training, so of course you're fine.

He's never actually seen you in action before and he eventually gets over the fear and is super turned on at seeing you be so bad ass and kick booty.

Yeah, the passionate "I missed you. That was so badass. I was so scared. God I hope we don't get caught." sex you have behind the warehouse as the mission is wrapping up is steamy and animalistic.

Bucky has super soldier hearing so he hears it and figures it out first.

Except Yelena has actually known for months because she's a spy, duh.

Sam is the last to figure it out but isn't surprised, you two are so compatible it seems obvious that you should be together.

[perfectlysunny02]

Something that bugs me the most about the lawsuit arc is that Bobby faced no ramifications from the department for misrepresenting them.

He was suspended at the end of s2 for lying to the department and not disclosing his background over everything in Minnesota.

Then he lies to Buck saying it was the department holding him back. Bobby holds direct blame for opening the department up to the lawsuit.

And the fact he was able to actively retaliate against Buck when he was reinstated? He should have lost his position as captain, if not his job in the fire department for that.

I so wish they'd run the story using the line that firefighting is a union job. The union would have been on Buck's side and fought for Bobby to face the consequences of his actions.

But disney owned property would never show unions in a good light.

you're right and honestly you should say it more.

it's really annoying actually because there seems to be this general fandom consensus that Buck was in the wrong and everyone else was in the right. When that's simply not the case.

Say what you want about Chase Mackey, the guy was a phenomenal lawyer, and he did his job. Sure, he might not have had Buck's wishes at heart, but he did his job and he did it well. Even if Buck didn't tell him about the coworker stuff, he would've found it. Everyone was mad that Buck told Chase about everything, but Chimney was literally stabbed in the brain and was allowed back in weeks. Eddie was spiraling, literally spiraling and Bobby was like "Oh he's fine!" That man was not fine. He wasn't anywhere close to fine either. He was grieving and angry, and he joined an illegal fighting ring.

Everyone also likes to say Buck abandoned Chirs. Chris is seven or eight years old, he doesn't have a phone, and Buck isn't allowed to talk to his dad. What exactly do you guys expect Buck to do in that situation? Chris is a minor, Buck isn't allowed to talk to the person in charge of Chris, and Eddie is so pissed that Buck would've probably been better off not trying. He even offers to talk to him in the grocery store and Eddie proceeds to be so fucking mean and condescending towards Buck, meanwhile, Eddie had just spent the night in jail for assault (the dude deserved it for being ableist but still). Buck fought through a tsunami on blood thinners and was injured for that kid. He would not have abandoned Chris.

I'm a 118 apologist. The 118 can do no wrong in my eyes. I close them whenever they're doing some fuck shit, but this I can't excuse. It's trash, and then the fact that they ostracized him later at work?? Hen and Chimney know what that's like better than anyone and they proceeded to do it to him. He didn't even sue Eddie, Chim, or Hen, and they acted like he did.

I don't know, I find the whole thing messy and gross, and I just don't agree with the idea that Buck was in the wrong. The only thing he was wrong about was not going through the union but like you said, this is Disney and Disney hates unions.