#shoe's on the other foot now buddy

[wishing-stones]

Baggs Z: A taste of one's own medicine >:3c

Z. [Make up your own] A taste of one's own medicine >:3c

This was a challenge to figure out how to pull off but, well...

There's always a bigger fish, buddy.

He did not like the way that Nightmare was looking at him. That half-lidded, almost coy appraisal made his hackles raise, although he did his level best to ignore it and continue his work.

"I've been pondering how your magic works," Nightmare drew Baggs' attention back to himself the instant it forcibly left.

"I've no doubt you have," Baggs returned airily, focusing on his work rather than the uneasy feeling that his benefactor's attention presently inflicted.

"How does a human trait bond with monster magic in order to create an entirely new type? If we consider how perseverance affects the soul normally, it creates the ability to restrict movement to only a few avenues. With the holding ability of patience, to force damage unless one is completely still, it makes a certain amount of poetic sense. Restricted and forced to remain still or suffer the consequences."

He feigned disinterest, but Baggs was actively listening. He'd thought about this a number of times and come to the same conclusion Nightmare was approaching; the latent patience in his system attached to the foreign perseverence and crafted a new magic that utilized traits from both. The stillness of patience and the rigidity of perseverance literally swirled together to create his unique brand of magic. Since both traits affected the soul and its movement, it was little wonder it leeched into affecting the mind as well.

"Not to mention the almost Determination-level of focus it grants-- it's more than evident in the way that yours is more pink than purple. It dances a fine edge that I'm sure very few can escape."

"If you are getting at something, sir, it would behoove you to get to it rather than waste my time." There were rare occasions Baggs felt comfortable in pushing his boundaries with Nightmare. This was one of them. Nightmare was actively distracting the doctor from his work, and Baggs was already irritated and verging on overtired again. When Nightmare had initially shown up, he'd assumed it was to herd him to bed... but no. The Guardian of Negativity had simply stayed and watched. Baggs thought he might, perhaps, be watching his work for a while, until he saw how frequently Nightmare was watching him specifically.

"Oh my, we are getting cranky, aren't we?" Nightmare cooed in a voice thick with amusement, "I've a point, doctor, but it bears explanation."

Baggs leveled his best unimpressed, expectant stare at Nightmare, who only smiled serenely at his underling.

"And that explanation is...?" Baggs prompted, sitting down at his desk to transcribe his notes for the evening.

(He subtly checked the access records to make sure that no one had come snooping while he wasn't here and is relieved to see he has nothing to worry about today.)

"I believe I've broken down the specific way your magic resonates." Nightmare took up a seat near his desk, "As everyone's magic passes on their own unique wavelength, yours, likely by nature of perseverance, acclimates quickly to an individual's unique magical wavelength. It's how you can seize control-- you work instantly on the same individual wavelength... or more accurately, your magic attunes everyone else to yours. I have seen how you can command an entire room at once. Each soul in that room attunes to you."

Baggs paused and steepled his fingers.

"Those more in control of their magic and more attuned to their souls have more capability to resist that call." He hummed, "And the presence of Determination makes it easier to maintain one's own unique magical resonance. Interesting hypothesis."

"Indeed." Nightmare nodded sagely, smile still eerily composed, "And any good hypothesis should be tested to ensure its validity, wouldn't you agree?"

Baggs eyed him out of the corner of his socket.

"What are you getting at?" He said slowly, not entirely certain he liked the tone Nightmare took up.

"I've a very fine control over my magic, doctor Baggs." Nightmare stood, and Baggs shifted back minutely, "So much so that I can control the resonance of my soul consciously. It makes cloaking my presence to those who know it very easy. It is how my brother oft times does not know something it transpiring in another world until it is too late."

He was putting on theatrics. Baggs resisted the urge to roll his eyelights and elected not to comment. Best to let Nightmare get it out of his system.

"I've a theory that my control is even fine enough to force other souls onto the same resonance."

"Like my magic does, in theory."

"Yes, precisely."

Baggs screws up his mouth.

"You want to test this theory."

"I do."

There is a very heavy silence that follows, and Baggs finally breaks it after a moment with a callous snort and toss of his head.

"Go bother Killer with it."

"Oh, but doctor, where is the fun in that?"

Baggs did not like where this was going. He slowly pushed himself back from his desk to face Nightmare, scowling.

"No."

"What a pity, I'd assumed an academic like yourself would have welcomed the opportunity for hands-on research regarding your very unique ability, and to understand how it works better." Nightmare idly inspected his phalanges, "...Aside from the fact that I wasn't really asking."

Baggs was very suddenly no longer sitting in his chair-- he was struggling against tentacles, kicking his legs fruitlessly and squirming to no avail.

"Unhand me!" He barked, and Nightmare only chuckled.

"What ever is the matter, doctor? You trust me, do you not?"

He was beginning to rethink that stance.

"Besides, I would never do anything to hurt you. That much you can be completely assured of."

Baggs quick kicking his feet and frowned.

"Beyond all of that, it is high time that you cease your work for the evening."

He glanced sideways at his computer screen, squinting faintly at it. He'd saved... and if the computer just went to sleep it would require a password to get back into.

Something... something strange squirmed against his soul, and Baggs recoiled with a bark of indignation. He tried fruitlessly to get free again, but the more he struggled, the more it felt like something was trying to work its way in.

A heavy feeling settled on his shoulders, and he struggled against it, shaking his head fitfully.

It did nothing. The feeling of something working its way past his defenses, to the very innermost parts of his mind and soul was pervasive... But at the same time, strangely... not unwelcome?

Was this truly what it was like?

Struggling grew more and more difficult as his limbs began to respond more slowly. His head felt heavy, difficult to keep aloft, and when it tipped to the side, it was righted with a tentacle.

While Nightmare's eyelight didn't swirl and pulse like his own, it did seem very difficult to look away from. It held an unearthly, beguiling light that seemed to leak into the farthest reaches of his mind and quiet the relentless buzzing of his thoughts.

...It felt kind of nice to not think for a bit.

Nightmare chuckled softly. Baggs tried to return some witticism about his self-satisfaction, but nothing came but a weak, feeble moan that tailed higher at the end in almost a questioning manner.

"Hm. That hypothesis seems rather firmly proven correct." Nightmare observed airily, "And an interesting new utilization of my own magic. Really, I ought to thank you. Had we not met, I doubt that I would have thought to try this."

The words sunk heavily into Baggs' mind, followed by the feeling of both amusement and genuine gratitude. Nightmare might be having fun toying around with him, but he was, at the very least, truly thankful for the insight.

Still, it was getting harder and harder to keep his sockets open. This was not an unfamiliar feeling-- He was quite used to the sensation of Nightmare forcing his unruly magic into submission so that he could sleep. It was slightly different now, though. His magic did not try to retaliate. It complied easily-- almost as easily as Nightmare himself carried Baggs away from his lab and to his quarters.

He tried again to vocalize the faintest flicker of a thought, but it was snuffed out, and the words came out as a quiet, nonsensical mumble. The flash of unease that accompanied the realization that his acute mind was succumbing to numbness lasted only a moment before he was hushed-- hushed in the same way he so often hushed his own patients-- and then all was quiet.

"There, now. Nothing to fret yourself over." Nightmare's voice was a low, sweet lull, and Baggs finally lost the fight with his sockets, letting them fall closed with little resistance. The gentle sway of Nightmare's gait was pacifying as well, and he teetered on the edge of consciousness, only rousing slightly when he felt the softness of his mattress beneath him. He tried to stir out of it, but felt a tentacle smooth almost soothingly over the top of his skull.

"Sleep now, doctor. We will discuss this come the morrow."

[whosbloom]

Aaron Hotchner » Spirit Halloween

day 11 of flufftober

⋆.˚ summary: while having to watch Jack for the day you decided to show him the true Halloween spirit and surprise Aaron

⋆.˚ fluff , babysitter!reader , mentions of sexualized costumes , Jack being absolutely adorable

“Alright, Jack, ready to check this place out?” You smiled as you held his hand, opening the door for him, watching his eyes light up as they immediately darted around the many decorations upon entering.

He let go of your hand and rushed over to one of the interactive decorations, a large pumpkin headed animatronic. He looked down at his shoes and saw a button with bright red letters saying ‘Step On Me’.

His curiosity spiked, stomping his small foot on it as he looked back up, watching the animatronic spring out and shout out an automated line.

You walked up behind him and smiled, listening as he started to giggled loudly, turning around to face you before grabbing your finger and started tugging you around to the next one.

“Jack, buddy, slow down.” You laughed lightly, bending down a little to follow after him, watching as he happily started pressing different interactive buttons and watched the different animatronics pop out at him.

He glanced back at you and smiled widely, squeezing your finger before using his little hand to gesture you to bend down.

You sighed and crouched down to match his height, raising your brows in anticipation. “What is it, bud?”

He smiled and moved in closer, using a hand to cup his mouth so he could whisper to you. “We should surprise daddy with one.” He giggled lightly at his own suggestion, before rushing away from you to go search the store more.

“Jack! Gotta stop running from me!” You laughed and pushed yourself up from your knees, taking quick and big steps towards him, scooping him up and held him close.

“Alright, well, what do you wanna do to surprise your dad?” You asked, placing him back down and held him still by his shoulders.

“There’s masks, fake weapons, some little kid costumes. Maybe we pick out your costume and show him what you’re going as this year.” You raised your brows at him, fixing his hair a little and kissed his head.

“Costume! I wanna dress like him.” He smiled and grabbed your hands from behind his head, awkwardly tugging you along to the many costumes on shelves.

Infront of you was several like his father’s job; cops, firemen, etc. You squeezed his hand before pulling away, walking down the small aisle for a moment until finding an FBI agent costume.

“Oh, buddy, I think we found one.” You glanced back at him, showing him the costume, before attempting to find one that was definitely his size.

“Maybe.. you dress as the good guy, and I’ll dress as the bad guy. You wanna help me find a bad guy costume?” You watched as he eagerly nodded, walking over to you and eagerly pointed out some of the criminal costumes—which sadly were very sexualized.

“Maybe not that one..” You smiled awkwardly as you held his costume under your arm, redirecting his attention to the more normal costumes.

He nodded and picked out a classic orange jumpsuit, one that came with a pair of handcuffs as well. You ran a hand over his hair before helping him grab the costume off the shelf, letting him hold it.

“Wanna check out the masks before we buy these?” You gently grabbed his arm again, directing him towards the other end of the store.

By the time you had gotten back to Aaron’s place you were helping Jack adjust his little tie, straightening out the suit from his costume and made him look all professional.

“Now.. we add your badge.” You smiled and picked up the quick makeshift badge you had printed out and stuffed in the provided ID holder from the costume, flipping it to his collar.

“You’re just like your dad, aren’t you?” You kissed his forehead as you smiled at him, adjusting the plastic handcuffs that dangled from your wrist, watching as his smile grew.

“I’m a hero now.” He small words were simple yet enough to make your heart ache, nodding more as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, you are.. best hero out there, right?” You raised your brows at him, seeing him happily nod before perking up at the sound of keys jiggling at the door.

“Looks like the real hero’s home now.” You laughed softly, kissing his head again as you pushed yourself to a standing position, watching as he carefully grabbed your hands and held them behind you, loosely clipping the handcuffs around your other wrist.

“You gotta be stern and put me in my place, okay? Really sell the act.” You whispered to him, giving him a short nod before nudging the door open, listening for Aaron as he entered the living room and called out to you both.”

“Jack? Y/N?” His voice rang through the apartment, before he was greeted by the sound of Jack’s voice yelling at you rather sweetly.

“Daddy! I got the bad guy!” He smiled proudly as he pushed you into the living room, showing off your matching costumes to his father, before letting go of your wrists and rushed over to him.

Aaron crouched down with a smiled, taking in his costume before picking him up, planting a kiss to the side of his head. “Where in the world did you two go?”

You laughed lightly and awkwardly messed with the plastic handcuffs, attempting to loosen them as you glanced down behind your back. “Uh—y’know. Spirit Halloween.. Jack wanted to be a hero for Halloween, so he chose to dress like you.”

Aaron gently put Jack down as he walked over to you, helping you get the cuffs off, before holding them up for you and smiled.

“Thanks.. you really didn’t have to. I can pay you back however much the costume cost.” He offered with slightly furrowed brows. “Aaron, it’s fine. I’d gladly spend all my money to see Jack this happy.”

He nodded simply, a hand finding purchase on your lower back, his gaze on yours as a smile found its home on his lips again.

He was about to speak up when he was interrupted by Jack, his attention going over to his son. “Are you two going to kiss?” He gave you both a weird look before walking away to his room, making you laugh slightly.

“Guess he didn’t want to witness that if it happened.” You shrugged and fiddled with the cuffs in your hand, raising your brows at him.

“If?” He glanced back at you, gaze flickering to your lips for a split second. “Doesn’t have to be an if.” He suggested quietly, his hand still on your back.

“You do realize you’d be kissing a criminal then, right? I’m in character right now.” You smiled and laughed, turning more towards him and placed a hand against his chest.”

“Clearly, you stole my heart. Thief.” He responded simply, before leaning down and planted his lips against yours softly. You almost immediately reciprocated, your hands in his shoulders.

The kiss lasted a few moments, before you pulled back and gave him an amused look. “That is the most cliche thing you could have said, I hope you know that.”

He rolled his eyes, hands on yours waist as he let out a content sigh. “Let me enjoy this, will you?” He gave you a playfully annoyed look, before kissing you once again.

tags: @lemoniiiiiii , @xrag-dollx , @jazz-berry (ask to be added!)

[fluentmoviequoter]

Walk Dates

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (+ Kojo and r's service dog)

Summary: You and your service dog meet Tim and Kojo during a walk. The dogs force you and Tim to keep meeting, but neither of you mind. When you're late for a walk because of an emergency, Tim decides he would like to be more than walk-buddies.

Warnings: r has a service dog for unspecified reasons, r passes out and goes to the hospital, mostly fluff! unplanned Shania Twain reference

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Match my shoes or complement?” you ask your dog.

She barks once and raises her left paw to point to the grey booties you’re holding. You nod and put the other pair away before kneeling before her. She raises one foot at a time so you can put her shoes on to protect her paws from the concrete outside. Your doctor told you going on walks could be beneficial for your mental and physical health, and your service dog seems to enjoy them just as much as you do.

“Ready to walk?” you ask as you stand.

Rather than barking to answer, she runs to the end cabinet in your kitchen and sits. Her leash and your small medical bag are inside, and you shake your head in amusement. Once your bag is on your back and her leash is clipped to her harness, you exit the back door and lock it behind you.

“Let’s go, girl.”

Tim sighs as he shifts his truck into park. His shift was hectic, but he knows Kojo has been trapped inside and would like a walk. The weather is nice today, so it would do Tim some good to get outside too, he thinks.

As Tim suspected, Kojo is bouncing excitedly and full of energy when he enters. Kojo runs to the shelf holding his harness and leash, then back to Tim. “I know, I know. Let’s do it, buddy,” Tim tells Kojo.

They leave a few minutes later, and Tim takes a deep breath as Kojo leads the way. The neighborhood isn’t busy this time of day, so Tim can relax a bit and follow Kojo rather than dictate where they go while actively looking for any threats.

Your service dog stops when another dog barks happily. You look away from the butterfly you were watching and smile when you see a man walking a dog. His dog seems interested in meeting your dog, and you click your tongue to signal her to keep walking.

“Kojo, no,” the man says, pulling the leash tight to his side.

“Hello,” you greet kindly.

“Hi,” the man replies, dipping his head in greeting. “Kojo.”

“Beautiful dog,” you add.

“He thinks that means he can do whatever he wants. Sorry, he likes meeting other dogs.”

“He’s fine,” you promise.

“She’s working, Kojo,” he whispers harshly.

“He can come over,” you offer. “She’s sweet, and she can multitask.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

The man loosens his grip on the leash and steps toward you. Your dog wags her tail quickly, slapping your leg every time she does. She sits, and Kojo flops down as they introduce themselves as dogs do.

You extend your right hand and tell the man your name and your dog’s name.

“I’m Tim, and that’s Kojo,” he replies. “We usually have more manners.”

Your dog steps over Kojo’s back legs to stand over him, and you chuckle as you say, “We don’t.”

“I haven’t seen you over here before.”

“Our walk times differ daily,” you explain. “I should start coming out now, though, because there’s no one else.”

“That’s why we love it.”

Your dog stands quickly and presses her nose into your thigh. Time to go home. “That’s my cue,” you tell Tim. “Maybe we’ll see you and Kojo on another walk soon.”

“That’d be nice. Enjoy the rest of your day,” Tim agrees. You smile as your dog leads you back the way you came. Tim is nice, his dog is adorable, and they exude comfort. You truly wouldn’t mind running into him again, you decide.

As you leave, Tim watches you go, and Kojo does too. Kojo looks up at Tim and pants happily.

“Good boy, Kojo,” Tim compliments. “But we need to talk about your manners. Service dogs can’t always hang out, bud.”

Kojo tilts his head as his ears perk, and Tim shrugs. He doesn’t know why you have a service dog, but it doesn’t matter. You do.

“We’re both going to be thinking about them for a while aren’t we?”

Kojo barks in return, and Tim sighs. There are worse things to think of.

Tim falls asleep thinking of you and wakes with a smile on his face. Kojo jumps onto his bed with his leash in his mouth, and Tim assumes he’s thinking about you and your dog, too. When Angela and Lucy started joking that Tim and Kojo were exactly the same, just different species, he didn’t expect to prove them right so easily.

“Fine, fine,” Tim concedes when Kojo moves to stand on his chest. “A quick walk before work. They won’t be there, though.”

Tim shakes his head as Kojo leads him to the same stretch of sidewalk where they met you last night. You’re nowhere to be seen, as expected, but Kojo keeps walking.

“Good morning, Kojo.”

Tim looks up quickly when he hears your voice, and your smile is stronger than any coffee he’s ever tried. He returns your smile and steps closer. Kojo greets your dog happily, and they step into the grass-covered yard beside you.

“Good morning to you, too, Tim,” you add.

“Good morning. Didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“This one couldn’t stop thinking about Kojo,” you explain, pointing to your dog. “And my doctor wants me to walk more, so win-win.”

“They’re best friends now, aren’t they?” Tim asks.

You turn at the same time as him, and your arm presses against his as you watch your dogs play together.

“They certainly are. Do you think they’ll keep waking us up to see each other?”

“Kojo will.”

“She will, too.”

“Well, I have to get to work, but it was great seeing you. Kojo appreciates your early morning walk.”

“What do you do?” You scrunch your nose and add, “Sorry, if that’s too personal you don’t have to answer.”

“Not at all,” Tim assures. “I’m a cop.”

“I knew it,” you reply.

“What about you?”

You give him a quick overview of what you do but leave out the part where sometimes your dog won’t let you. She does her job a bit too well sometimes and she’s already pulled you away from Tim once.

“Have a good day at work, Tim,” you say. “See you around.”

“You, too.”

Over the next week, you and Tim meet on walks once or twice a day. Your dog seems attuned to Kojo’s schedule and leads you to Tim every time you go for a walk. Within a week, you and Tim decide to walk together rather than stand in one place and interrupt your walks.

“I- this may be too forward,” Tim begins as you walk beside him.

“May not be,” you counter.

“Would you want to exchange numbers? It could be easier to let these two partners in crime meet up if we can talk before,” he suggests.

“Don’t call them partners in crime! Then you’d have to arrest them.”

“I’m sure they’d get off with a warning.”

“Tim!” You chuckle before agreeing to exchange numbers.

When your fingers brush Tim’s as you hand him your phone, you suddenly understand why your dog wants to see him and Kojo every day. You could get used to life at his side.

“I tried to leave last night to run to the store, but Kojo wouldn’t let me pass his leash,” Tim tells you as he returns your phone. “Had to take him for a walk before I could go get dinner.”

“Is he that convincing?” you inquire.

“He’s that bossy.”

“I wonder if he gets it from you,” you muse playfully.

“His former owner. Friend of mine from work, so I can blame that on her.”

“But all of his good traits are from you?” you guess.

Tim shrugs with a smile, and you bump your shoulder against his. These walks are doing you more good than your doctor anticipated. Your dog hasn’t alerted you to any health-related threats in days, which you attribute directly to walking with Tim and Kojo.

“Tim…” could we be more than neighbors who walk their dogs together?

Tim says your name, matching your tone as you return to your starting place.

“I just wanted to ask if we could meet again tonight. For another walk, to wear them out before bed?” you suggest, rather than saying what you want to.

“Text me the time.”

You nod and return home with a smile on your face. Though you have plenty you could do, you waste most of the day staring at the clock and looking forward to meeting Tim and Kojo again.

The leash hangs limply from your hand after you retrieve it from the cabinet. Your health took a sudden dip about an hour ago, but you’re trying to stay strong enough for the walk. Paws thud on the floor behind you, and when she presses her snout firmly into your thigh, you lower your hand toward her head.

“I know,” you mumble weakly. “I know, girl. But we can walk, right?”

She barks before she tugs on your shirt with her teeth. You shake your head, and she wraps a paw around your calf. Despite your need to see Tim, you know she’s right, and you carefully lower to the floor. As soon as you sit, your dog licks your cheek and presses her nose to your chest, but her whines are muffled as your eyes flutter closed.

Tim has never been more excited to walk Kojo than he is today. He had a rough day at work, so he doesn’t hesitate to take Kojo out as soon as he arrives home. They get to your meeting spot early and wait. As your suggested time comes and goes, Kojo gets antsy. Tim pulls his phone from his pocket, but he doesn’t have any messages from you. He sends you one, but it goes unread until he turns the screen off.

Kojo starts pulling on his leash a few minutes later. His nose is lowered to the ground, so Tim gives him some slack in his leash. Kojo walks through your usual route but passes the place where you and Tim part ways. He stops in front of a house several blocks from Tim’s and looks at the yard before he leads Tim to the door.

“What are you doing, Kojo?” Tim asks.

A dog barks inside, and as the barking continues, growing louder as the dog nears the door, Tim recognizes the sound of the bark. It’s your dog. She scratches against the door and whines, and Tim realizes that if you’re late and your service dog is upset in your house, something happened to you.

He leads Kojo off the porch and calls for an ambulance as he rounds the house. The side door is unlocked, and as Kojo steps inside, Tim sees your hand against the floor, with a leash beside it. Tim pushes the door open quickly and barely manages to catch it before it breaks the window behind it. Tim drops Kojo’s leash, and Kojo lies beside your legs to provide comfort to you and himself. Tim has known for over a week that Kojo loves you but seeing you like this makes Tim question how he feels about you.

Tim says your name but gets no answer. “Hey, girl,” he tells your dog instead. “What do I need to do? Show me.”

She presses her nose against your pulse point, and Tim follows suit on the other side. Your heart rate is elevated, and your slumped position is likely making it hard to breathe. Tim gently moves you into a more comfortable position as Kojo moves with you.

Your dog moves away from you and pulls a cabinet open before dragging a small backpack to Tim. He unzips it and sees medication, water with minerals and electrolytes, and a small booklet with instructions on what to do in case something like this happens.

Tim lays the book open and begins working through the recommended actions. In his mind, he pleads with you – begs you – to come back to him. He can hear the sirens on the ambulance approaching when you finally blink your eyes open.

“Tim?” you ask softly. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t meet us on the walk,” he answers. “Kojo got worried.”

“Just Kojo?” you ask knowingly, brushing a thumb over the crease between Tim’s eyebrows.

“Ambulance is here,” Tim tells you. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You see your bag beside him and whisper to thank him. “Sorry, I missed our walk.”

“You’ll have to make it up to me when you feel better,” he replies.

His hand slips into yours as you and your dog are taken to the ambulance. He asks the EMTs which hospital they’re taking you to before he kisses your temple and heads back into your house to clean up the mess he made. The deep scratches on your front door will have to wait, but he was nearly as upset as your dog when he got inside. Kojo whines at the door with his leash dragging behind him, but Tim says, “We have to wait. She’ll call when she’s ready.”

The moment you get discharged, you call Tim. He agrees to pick you up before you even ask, and he and Kojo are waiting for you in the lobby when you’re pushed out of the elevator in a wheelchair.

“You can still walk, right?” Tim checks.

“Yes,” you promise. “And I’ll need lots of walks to feel better.”

Tim frowns, and you rush to tell him that you’re teasing. You feel much better, thanks to him, and the doctors said he helped you properly and with plenty of time to spare.

“They think I should keep you around,” you add quietly.

“Kojo would happily become your second service dog,” Tim replies.

“Thank you, Tim,” you say as he helps you into his truck. “For everything.”

He nods once before closing the door, and you sit back to watch Kojo get comfortable beside your dog in the backseat. He would look cute in a service vest and booties.

After a few days of hourly check-in messages from Tim, you feel as good as new. You text Tim as you leave your house, and inhale deeply as you enjoy your first walk since your impromptu hospital visit. Your doctor scolded you for even trying to leave when you knew that you needed to act, but when she heard you talking to Tim, she understood why you put someone else before yourself. You’re not supposed to do that again, though, doctor’s orders.

“Hey,” Tim greets when you turn a corner.

“Hi,” you reply. “Care to join us for a walk?”

“We’d love to.”

As you walk side-by-side with Tim, you allow your arm to press against his and your hands to brush as you move along the sidewalk. You talk to Tim about his day, he asks about yours, and along the way, you lose track of time. When you notice the sun dipping below the horizon, you realize that it’s time to get home.

“I needed this, Tim. Thank you,” you tell him as your turn to return home.

“Let me walk you home,” he offers. “Kojo and I can’t let two lovely ladies walk home alone in the dark.”

“Well, thank you.” After a few steps, you remember that you never told Tim where you live. “How did you find me?” you ask.

“I didn’t. Kojo did. He’s obsessed with you.”

“The feeling is mutual, Kojo,” you tell him.

His tail wags faster at your attention, and you chuckle as Tim shakes his head. It seems like you reach your house much faster than usual, and it’s time to say goodbye to Tim and Kojo again.

“Would you like to go on a date?” Tim asks quickly as you stop by your door. “With the dogs?”

You open your mouth to reply, but Tim continues talking before you can.

“These walks are nice, but I’d like to try something more… if you’re willing,” he finishes.

You smile as you open your door. Leaning against it to keep it open, you say, “I’m willing. As long as the dogs are there.”

“Like they’d let us meet without them,” Tim scoffs.

“I’ll try not to have a medical emergency this time.”

“I’ll pick you up Friday night, around the same time as our walk?” Tim suggests.

“Sounds perfect. Goodnight, Tim, Kojo.”

“Goodnight,” Tim replies. As he turns to lead Kojo home, he says, “Say goodnight to our girls, Kojo.”

Our girls. You smile long after Tim leaves. If the walks impacted you this much, dating Tim will make spending time away from him and Kojo infinitely harder.

You text Tim before you fall asleep, looking forward to your first real date.

What happened to letting service dogs work?

Just before you drift off, you read Tim’s reply and your smile grows.

We’re her number 1 helpers. Besides, someone had to encourage you to take those walks your doc recommended.

A picture of Tim and Kojo accompanies the message, and suddenly, Friday seems an eternity away. You’ll just have to take as many walks as possible between now and then.

[princessbrunette]

okay so hi! i wanted to send in a lil jj and rafe prompt myself for the kook princess.

so i lowkey think that she gets tired of the beefing one day and she’s just all upset because she doesn’t know what to do or who to chose in this whole situation, so she just pulls a “if i can’t have you both i don’t want either of you” which was hard enough for her to do anyway because let’s be so real standing on business with RAFE & JJ is hell in itself. so she like really stands on business doesn’t come around either of them avoiding parties the whole nine until she ends up needing to go to midsommars or something kinda much like kie in season one her parents are making her go, so word gets around fast that she’s going because people haven’t seen her in a while and jj leaps on the opportunity to work with pope & heyward, so he can see her and obviously rafe is gonna be there regardless. she doesn’t come until late which gave rafe and jj enough time to at least come to a certain level of an agreement, she still avoids them all night staying with her parents and drifting to sarah whenever she got the opportunity. so she finally ends up going to the bathroom and they basically corner her (teamwork 🤣) and they talk to her and they both end up fucking her in the stall.

this!!!!! this is perfect. i never brought the two of them together bc i just thought it was too unlikely because they really don’t like eachother — but if they’re kinda forced together by reader giving them no other choice it seems more likely.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

jj practically jumps you in the corridor, appearing frantically infront of you in his lil waiter get up and starts dragging you to the bathroom.

“jj, no — i already told you—”

“just five minutes just — just hear me out for five minutes okay — c’mon, in you go, chop chop.” he pushes you into the bathroom before turning round and blinking at passersby who worriedly witnessed the low level kidnap. “nothin’ to see here alright just, carry on…” he excuses awkwardly before closing the door.

upon entering, to your surprise rafe is stood in the centre of the room with his hands in his pockets and lips pursed like he was forced to be there too. he perks up a little on your entry, eyeing you over. he speaks your name and you glance between the two boys nervously.

“damn, you— you look really beautiful i mean—” rafe begins as he edges towards you and you all but nearly stomp your foot, pointing to him with an angry pout.

“don’t!”

the oldest boy holds his hands up, slowing his pace as he approaches you, showing he comes in peace. “alright, alright… look we… just wanted to talk to you. ‘that okay?”

your eyes slide over to jj, who’s gazing at you with this desperate plea that makes you soften a little. you cross your arms and nod, and naturally the boys close in on you, shielding you from the rest of the room.

“trust me, okay— the last thing i wanna do is share you with rafe freaking cameron but,” the blonde runs a hand through his hair frustratedly as the cameron rolls his eyes. “you went goddamn… radio silent on us and i was worried, okay? are you seeing the level of concern you caused right now? ‘cus i’m standing next to rafe and my hands aren’t around his neck—”

“yeah like you could reach, buddy.”

“i’m like three inches shorter than you asshole i’on even wanna hear it right now ‘cus—”

“guys.” you interject sulkily, huffing a sigh out your nose.

“sorry, sorry— yes, so uh— to cut this thing short, maybe until you like, make a decision or whatever… we can alternate weeks with you?”

you gaze up at them from beneath your lashes unsurely. “like… you get me this week rafe gets me next week… and so on?”

“yeah i’m not thrilled about this guy gettin’ you at all but i’ll… i’ll take it.” rafe scuffs his shoe on the floor, uncharacteristically bashfully.

you think, and honestly as it was the best case scenario you nod, gaze flickering between the two of them.

“okay… just… want you both. missed you.” you don’t know who to look at, so you cement your stare to your shoes. there’s some shuffling of feet through the tense silence before you feel a pair of fingers gripping your jaw lightly, tilting your head up to them.

“look… why don’t you uh, why don’t you give maybank here a little kiss. alright? i’m— i’m actively showin’ you i’m cool with it.”

even jj’s brows lift in surprise, licking over his rubied lips as he watches you for permission. you let rafe’s hand drag you closer, before bringing your mouth to jj’s, locking lips. rafe’s hand switches to cup the back of your head, supposedly feeling this was the most control he could have in the situation. his eyes flutter in irritation as he watches jj slip you tongue and after a moment he pulls you back, immediately bringing your mouth to his— to kiss you sloppier and dirtier than the blonde.

jj’s eyes roll, licking over his lips once more. “jesus, dude — okay.”

you let out a pleased moan after a moment, just happy to have your favourite boys back with you, this time together — and rafe tugs you back with a smug smirk. you watch his eyes flutter up to the cubicle behind you, before his gaze moves to jj.

“get the door, yeah busboy?” he slaps jj on the back, and with his tongue in his cheek — he pushes the cubicle door open for the three of you to fit inside.

“watch it, douche.” he glares as rafe leads you in. it’s a squeeze, but it’ll do for now. the competitive nature in them both was flared up to ten, set on using this time as a way to prove themselves to you.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls chapter 13 part 2/2

masterpost

Given that Dr. and Dr. Fenton had taken him on a drive around town that legitimately climaxed with an on-foot chase of a hulking ghost who did not care to comment for their family blog, Jason thought that was actually kinda probable. If the Drs. had that technology, their kids would probably have access as well.

“Why not?” Tim said, sounding a bit defensive. “We know for a fact that there’s a few undead out there, zombie boy. And there’s a ghost affiliated with the JL.”

All solid points.

‘But there’s no way the good Doctors would be able to convince a ghost to do anything they wanted. Would the daughter have any better luck?’

Jason covered a laugh in his fist.

His ghostly experience so far consisted of:

Danny Phantom, who was very annoyed that Waters was trying to pay him tribute and not happy to see Jason, either.

The mysterious collaborator who hadn’t even wanted Jason to enter his tower.

Skalker, who spent the length of their acquaintance screaming and flying away at what appeared to be his top speed while Jack Fenton whooped and Dr. Fenton shouted questions from a megaphone.

“I get the vibe that they don’t really care to interact with the living,” Jason said, before Tim could get his knickers in a twist. “So my skepticism is in regards to the likelihood of a ghost agreeing to collaborate.”

“What, you think they’re all the same?” Tim said. His tone made it seem like he thought that was such an embarrassingly unintellectual idea that Jason should sink through the floor.

“I think there’s pretty good reasons there might be a trend.”

Tim made an unconvinced sound and changed the subject. “Since they have a similar area of interest, I want to look for a connection between the Fentons and Waters. They could be- Why did you laugh?”

A neon sign lit up across the street, sending a wash of purple light through the air. Jason shook his head. “The Fentons- the Dr.s Fenton, at least, strongly dislike Jeremy Waters.”

“Why did that come up?”

“No reason,” Jason lied airily. “Anyway, that’s not it. Could be some kind of rivalry. But I doubt they’d want to visit Waters in Arkham to give him their sympathies.”

Tim chewed that over for a moment. “Could be a rivalry. I gotta go, O’s hitting my line.”

“Stay safe out there.” Jason cut the conversation and settled in to think. He stuck his hands in his pockets and wished for something to fiddle with that wasn’t a weapon. It had poser vibes to stand around on a rooftop alone playing with a knife or a gun. If Oracle caught you on video, she would tint it blue, set it to some humiliatingly emo soundtrack, and send it around the hero community.

Not, uh. Not that that had happened to him.

He called in. “Hey, O, good evening.”

“Good to hear from you, Hood.” She sounded as serene as ever.

Jason fidgeted a little. “Anything I could help with?” He toed the front of his boot back and forth on the cement ledge for a moment, killing time by idly calculating how many seconds he’d have to engage a grapple if he fell from this height.

“Good news for Gotham, it’s a quiet night.”

He sighed.

“I know, I know,” O said sympathetically. “You got all dressed up in your dancing shoes-”

“And there’s no one to go out with,” Jason agreed. At the back of his mind he vaguely remembered that that…might not be true, actually. He made a dramatic sigh. “I might call it a night, then. No point staring at the city like some bat-eared creep. I don’t have any monologues to work on right now.”

“Oh, you got those all done? Good for you, little buddy.”

Jason resisted the urge to flip her off. She wasn’t even here.

“Stay safe,” he said, because the idea of ending a call without saying that always filled him with a terrible premonition that this would be the time the other person ended up shot in the head and gone forever. He blew out a long, slow breath when he was finally truly alone and reconsidered the thought he’d had earlier.

‘I haven’t messaged Phantom all this time. It might be a good night for it. It’s been most of a week. He won’t be annoyed that I’m checking in now.’

Yeah… Yeah, okay. Jason grappled down and made his way to where he’d stashed his bike. He got into his current residence and stripped out of his gear. He got out his phone and shot Phantom a text before he went into the shower. Not much, he didn’t wanna come across as desperate. Just a nice, casual, “Hey, what’s up? Just checking in. Any luck so far? I finished my books!”

[0mg-bird]

Sister’s Mister ~ B. Bradshaw x Seresin Sister Reader

Summary: When Jake’s little sister pays a visit, Bradley gets himself into a sneaky situation where he might want to be the sister’s mister.

Warning: 18+ content ahead, language.

A/n: Very Nickelback coded, argue with the wall.

There was a feeling of uncertainty among the men in the locker room as they showered and cleaned up. Jake left early to pick up a package, that package being his dearest little sister. You.

“He’s bringing her to Payback’s birthday party.” Fanboy states and he pulls a clean shirt on.

The rest groan, asking Payback why he’s allowing it. He just shrugs. “Dude, I felt bad, alright? She’s coming to stay for a month, I don’t want to start off on a bad foot.”

Bob, who was currently pulling his civilian shoes on, shook his head. “Hangman’s enough, what are we gonna do when a second him is going to be hangin’ around?”

They moan about that, all making claims about what you must be like. Things like spoiled, arrogant, and self centered all came up.

Bradley runs his hands through his hair a few times. “Which sister is this anyway? He’s got about five of them.” He asks.

“Big families are common in the south.” Bob reminds.

Coyote is there to answer his question. “I think it’s the one born after him? They’re the closest ones out of the seven kids.”

“Seven!” They all exclaim, cursing with wide eyes.

Bradley shuts his locker. “Six siblings might be the reason Hangman’s a head case.” He claims, making the others laugh.

“Yeah, let’s just hope the sisters not the same way.” Omaha chuckles.

~~

At the airport, you look for the tall head of blonde hair that is your brother. Suitcase rolling along behind you, you pass security and immediately see him.

Jake leans against a pillar, looking rather bored until he sees you approaching. Then, he’s walking to you with a smile.

“I was hoping you’d accidentally board a flight to Mexico instead.” He teases as you hug him.

“Oh c’mon now, don’t act like you haven’t missed me.” You smile, air getting squeezed out of your lungs as his strong arms grip you.

He pulls away and takes your suitcase and backpack. “Hard to miss someone whose face is plastered on magazine issues. But it’s good to see ‘ya, sis.”

The two of you leave to get a bite to eat, then Jake drops you off at the small house you rented.

“We’re going to my buddies birthday party tomorrow night.” He tells you as he checks the place.

You roll your eyes at his effort to make sure no crazy people are hiding behind the curtains, then open up your backpack to unpack some things.

“Which buddy is this?” You question.

“Just someone on my squad.” Jake explains.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Yay, a barbecue in the park.”

Jake glares at your fake enthusiasm. “It’s not a barbecue, and I feel personally victimized by that stereotypical statement.”

“Ooh, Jakey’s using big words.” You fake gasp.

He isn’t amused.

“We’re going to a club, okay? You know all about those, huh?” He teases, making your brows furrow.

“Is that what you think I do all day? Go to clubs with rich people?” You ask, to which he shrugs and nods. You scoff. “I do have an actual job, I just happen to know how to party.”

Jake sits at the kitchen counter. “So do we. Look, it’ll be fun and you can meet the crew.” He says, making you give in.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

He hums. “You never had a choice but I appreciate your cooperation.”

You roll your eyes. “Get out of my house, Seresin.”

~~

“Where’s Hangman?” Phoenix asks as she greets everyone in the parking lot.

They all wait to go inside the club, ready to get drinks down and watch Payback get wasted, but the only problem was they were waiting for the last two to join.

“Fashionably late.” Bradley huffs, checking the time. They agreed to meet at ten, but the minutes continue to tick by.

“Hey, what’s this chick’s name?” Phoenix asks, looking down at her phone with a face of confusion.

They all rattle off names until one clicks.

“Yeah! That’s it.” Coyote agrees, looking at the faces of surprise. “Why?”

She shrugs. “I’m Facebook stalking her.”

Though they want to call her crazy, they huddle around the phone as she scrolls through the profile. Bradley rolls his eyes at the antics.

“You guys are being ridiculous.” He states.

“Holy shit…” Fanboy exclaims.

“She’s gorgeous…like insanely gorgeous.” Payback finishes the thought.

Just as Bradley turns to look, Jake’s truck rolls into a parking spot. Phoenix scrambles to put her phone away, trying to act natural as Jake gets out. He walks around the truck and opens the passenger side door.

Two long legs step out, they all watch with anticipation. The door is shut to reveal you in full.

Long, curled hair, a short black dress. You smile as you approach, it reflects in your blue eyes.

Bradley stands in a daze as you get introduced to everyone. He’s trying to think of a time when he’s seen someone more beautiful than you but he just can’t.

“This is Rooster.” Jake finally gets to him.

Bradley snaps out of it and smiles, shaking your perfectly soft hand.

You let your eyes rise from his shoes, all the way up his jeans and white tank top under his unbuttoned shirt. When they meet his eye, you take in a small breath at the way he gazes at you.

“Hi, Rooster.” You speak with a subtle southern accent, introducing yourself.

Then, you’re pulling away from him, his hand falls back at his side and he sees you turn to Payback.

“Happy birthday.” You say and hand him a small gift bag. “Jake helped me pick it out.”

He reaches into the bag, thanking you and saying that you really didn’t need to get him anything. He takes out a velvet box and opens it to reveal an expensive looking watch. The crew lowly whistles at it.

“Damn…my birthday’s next month by the way.” Coyote tells you, making you laugh.

Inside the club, the group of you gather in the reserved booth with a first round of drinks. Bradley sits directly across from you, watching you intently as you answer different questions.

“What do you do for work?” Phoenix asks, making Jake cut in.

“Stripping.” He says with a serious face, making you slap his arm.

“Stop telling people that.” You scold before looking back at Phoenix. “I model.”

That sparks a roar of interest, the whole time Bradley just watches your movements. Your fingers toy with the skinny straw in your glass as you tell a story about being in a rock music video or of doing an issue for Vogue two months ago. He sees your pouty bottom lip get caught between your pearly teeth when you laugh at something and his mind is flooded with thoughts he cannot speak out loud.

Here he was, worried you’d be a stone cold bitch when he should have been worried that you were gonna make him grip the table to ground himself. All you were doing was sitting there and he was already getting pulled in.

You’re Jake’s sister.

He has to remind himself of that as you are dragged into the swarm of clubbers by Phoenix and Halo.

“So…we’re just going to ignore the fact that she was a bunny?” Coyote mentions, making Jake cringe.

“Hey, asshole, let’s not talk about that when I’m sitting right here. Besides, it was like one issue, and she wasn’t buck naked.” He corrects, chugging his beer at the odd topic this has come to.

“You seen it?” Fanboy cringes.

“Our mom sent it to the family group chat! I was horrified.” Jake gags.

Bradley laughs at his reaction, then shifts his eyes to Coyote who finishes his drink. He sees the smirk he has and knows that there’s gonna be a comment to follow.

“She was hot, dude. I feel a little star struck, actually.” Coyote chuckles.

Jake points an angry finger at his friend. “I love you man, but say anything like that again and I’m putting you through this table. Got it?” He spits.

Bradley looks at his glass.

He better just keep his mouth shut, because if Jake hears the things he’s thinking, he’s as good as dead.

“What do you mean she was a bunny?” Bob questions, defusing the tension. “I thought she was Jake’s sister?”

The guys let out a sigh, Jake races off as it has to be explained to the pilot.

Lights and music pulse and as you dance along, Bradley’s jaw is ticking back and forth. You appear like a phantom, arms up as you laugh with Phoenix.

“I’ll be back.” He tells the guys before heading for the bathroom.

He locks the door behind him and leans on the sink, trying to get himself together. Then, he pulls out his phone and Googles your name.

Hundreds and hundreds of photos appear on the screen, all in which you look sinfully good.

How could he not know of you before? He feels like he’s lived in darkness this whole time.

Bradley splashes water on his face and tells his reflection to get it together. With a deep breath, he goes to the bar, trying to get his head straight.

Things with Jake were finally fine, there was a truce made. The last thing that Bradley needs is to start another war by getting too close to the miniature Seresin.

Leaning on the bar, waiting for the bartender to get to him, he’s suddenly joined.

“You weren’t gonna offer me a drink?” You ask with a playful smile.

He turns his head, looking down at you and he internally curses. Of course you’d find him, life was never easy for him.

“I figured you were a big girl and could get yourself something if you were thirsty.” He states, swallowing hard.

You let out a small chuckle, then wave the bartender over.

“Whatcha’ need sweetheart?” The bartender asks, leaning forward with a wink.

“Vodka with a diet redbull, if you wouldn’t mind.” You order, then turn to Rooster with an expectant look.

“Oh, uh, just whiskey on the rocks.” He mutters.

The bartender gets right on it, leaving the two of you alone once more.

You run a manicured hand through your hair and look up at him. “So, Rooster, you got a real name?” You ask.

He nods, avoiding eye contact. His fingers flex into fists and back out again because you smell like cherry and vanilla, it makes him feel woozy.

You laugh. “Yeah? What is it?”

Blowing out a breath, he tells himself he’s stronger than this and looks to you.

“Bradley.” He says, aching as you hum and try the name out for yourself.

“Bradley. I like that.” You nod, taking your drink as it is given to you.

Your lips wrap around the straw and slowly sip as he drinks his whiskey, focusing on the taste of it washing down his throat.

You watch the veins in his arms and the way his adams apple bobs. He’s the perfect picture of fine, the wheels are turning in your head as you establish that he’s what you want.

“You want to dance with me, Bradley?” You ask as he finishes the drink in silence.

He shoots his brown eyes down at you, but doesn’t answer. Your straw slurps as you reach the bottom of your glass. “It’s a simple question.” You state.

“No.” He shutters.

“No?” You clarify.

“I do but no, I won’t.” He says weakly.

“And why is that?” You question, lips pursing.

The way you squint your eyes makes him want to drop dead. He clears his throat. “You’re off limits, sweetheart. The last thing I need is your brother ripping my head off.”

You smile. “I’m a big girl, I can make my own decisions.”

He turns to fully face you now. “I don’t think that matters to Hangman.”

You let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, I’m standing here talking to you and he hasn’t come found me. I don’t know about you but to me, that seems like it’s okay for you to continue talking to me.”

You were being extremely difficult.

He sits on the chair behind him, motioning for you to do the same. Slowly, you sit, crossing one leg over the other. Your thumb nail gets caught between your teeth for a moment before he reaches out to pull it away. You lightly gasp at the action, then fold your hands together in your lap. “Wanna talk? Let’s talk.”

The two of you exchange friendly chatter, both very aware of the space shrinking between you. The sound of your voice is addicting, the longer you talk, the longer he adores it. All those silly things they guys assumed about you were entirely false. You were smart and kind, you were actually hilarious.

“You still don’t want to dance with me?” You ask after a breath, your fingers running over his thigh.

He sucks in a breath. “You just want me to be killed, don’t you?”

You look at the mass of people. “If I know one thing, it’s that my brother is probably all over some little blonde right now and way too distracted to worry about me.” You state, moving your fingers now to the back of his hand, slowly tracing shapes on his skin.

“What about the others?” He asks.

You shrug. “There’s a swarm of people, I doubt they’ll notice.”

He fights his inhibitions, then decides he’s aching to feel the silk of your dress under his hands way more than he is scared of getting caught.

Bradley grabs your hand, it’s strong as it guides you off the seat. You smirk to yourself as you follow behind him. He strategically places the two of you in the crowd, the lack of space makes you press yourself to him. Your arms hook around his neck, you feel the warmth of his palms on your lower back.

The different colored lights make the silhouette of you sharp and enticing. Though the two of you start out calm, your movements aren’t subtle. One hand in his hair, the other smooths up his chest. You’re hot, blame it on the people around you but the way he’s looking at you isn’t helping. The size of his hands on you, the way his hair gets messy, it has your knees feeling wobbly.

One movement forward, you’re pressed right against him, giving a delicious contact to the crotch of his jeans. His fingers grip your hips tightly, he leans down to press his lips to your ear. Your eyes widen as the heat of his breath washes down your neck.

“Don’t.” Is the only word he utters.

And you aren’t used to being told no.

You do it again, creating that aching friction as you rub against him. “Why not?” You whisper back.

Bradley shuts his eyes, trying to stay strong in the war he is not winning. “Don’t start something, sweetheart.”

You reach down to grab both his hands and slide them behind you. He grabs your ass instinctively.

“What if I want to?” You ask, anything but innocent.

He pulls away from your ear, shaking his head at you like it’ll change the situation. He’s saying no because it’s the smart thing, but really all he wants to do is slide his hand under your dress.

Your hand braces one side of his neck while you lean to the other. Slowly, like you aren’t sure if he’ll push you off or not, your lips press to his skin.

Bradley wants to curse, the way your tongue tastes the salt on his skin has him grinding you against him on his own accord. You make your way up to his jaw, then pull back. His eyes are entirely dark, you open your mouth to speak but he’s kissing you roughly.

You sigh contently as you start to feel like you’re buzzing on more than just alcohol. It only lasts a few seconds, like he just needed a taste. Bradley pulls away with a huff, you feel like you’re going to fall over.

“Still scared of Jake?” You ask him.

He shakes his head. “This isn’t smart.”

“But you want it.” You say, hand sliding up his chest.

He wants it, fuck he wants it. You can see it in his eyes, that’s why you take his hand and pull him out of the crowd.

In the secluded hallway of the bathrooms, in the low red lighting, you’re grinning as you’re backing him into the wall. You inhale deeply, fighting with his lips as he holds your waist. It’s feverish as you kiss, the way you gently press against his waist has Bradley biting back moans. Suddenly, he’s pushing you back, walking you until you hit the opposite wall.

“Don’t be a tease.” He warns lowly, hand gently squeezing your jaw.

Your smirk is victorious. “I won’t be a tease if you take me back to your place.”

He tightens his grip slightly before swooping down and devouring your lips. His strained jeans rub against you. “That’s what you want?” He asks, pulling away again.

You bite your bottom lip, nodding. “I’m up for anything you want to do, actually.”

His thumb pulls that lip down. He looks at it in awe as he makes his final decision.

“Text your brother, tell him that you called an Uber home.” He says.

“Jake already said he was taking a girl home and sent me the cash for a ride.” You breathe.

It’s all a sudden blur, the way Bradley’s dragging you out to the parking lot, helping you into the passenger seat of his Bronco. He’s definitely breaking traffic laws as he races to his one bedroom house.

He struggles to get the door open as you suck at his neck. Once he does get it open, he’s tugging you inside and slamming it shut.

Down the hall, you’re shredding his layers. His button shirt is thrown over the couch in the living room, his belt lands on the coffee table. As you pull his white tank off, your breath catches.

“Fuck.” Is all you can say, looking at how toned his upper body is. His biceps make you want to wrap your hands around them and squeeze.

Bradley smirks, feeling good about himself. “This is what gets you to shut that mouth of yours?” He asks.

You run your eyes over his abs. “You’re like…insanely hot.”

He grips your waist, then backs you up into the kitchen counter. “Says the one with the million dollar body.”

Your fingers dance over his bare skin. “Art appreciates art.” You shrug before devouring his kiss again.

At this point your lipstick is gone, Bradley wears some of it on his skin like you’ve branded him. His hands brace under your thighs, easily lifting you to sit on the smooth kitchen counter. You sit with a huff, spreading your legs wide enough for him to slot between them. The smooth material of your dress bunches on your hips, giving him a perfect view of the pretty pink thong you wear.

He breathes heavy in excitement, gazing down at the lace like it’s a prize. That’s before he’s tilting your head back and kissing down the column of your throat. You mewl softly at the feeling, how he dances down the tops of your breasts that threaten to spill out of the dress.

Then he’s sinking further down, you watch him slowly lower himself to become eye level with your core. You gasp softly as he grips your thighs and places warm kisses to them. It stimulates you, the way his lips feel. His hot breath fans over your aching center, he’s kissing the lace fabric like he’s praising it before he grips the top of it.

“You still sure you want this?” He checks one last time. “Because I don’t know if I can stop after I start.”

You grow impatient, flexing your hips to move your heat closer to him. “Bradley, I don’t want you to stop.”

That was enough for him to yank the panties down your legs, letting them hang on one ankle. He keeps your heels on, enjoying the way they press against his upper back as your legs drape over his shoulders.

His tongue comes to run up your center, you take in a sharp breath. He tastes your arousal, immediately becoming intoxicated off of it. Fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs, he keeps you spread open for him as he dives in, eating you out in a way you haven’t experienced before.

Your head falls back, hand wringing in his hair, holding him close to you. A moan tumbles free from your throat. “Oh fuck, you’re good at this. Fuck! Like that.”

He can’t help but grin wildly, stimulating your erected clit before stretching two fingers inside of you. Your hips buck at the feeling, you’re humming out, panting at the feeling. He eats it so good, you don’t even think to muffle the sounds you make.

“Ah, Bradley.” You breathe, making his cock twitch in his jeans.

“You like it, pretty girl?” He vibrates against you, making you cry out.

His eyes lift to look up at you writhe. You’re perfect, open mouthed and grinding against his tongue, reacting when he curls his fingers.

“Yes.” You encourage.

The sound is wet and lewd as he sucks on your sensitive skin, your eyes widen as you feel your finish coming on.

“Rooster, I’m close.” You whine slightly, it only makes him focus more and get you closer.

“You want to cum? Do it, finish for me.” He encourages.

Your chest heaves, you tighten your grip in his hair as you clench around his fingers. You curse loudly, feeling the orgasm build and build until you finally snap. You shudder, your thighs clench around Bradley’s head as you feel the wave wash over you. He’s there through it, cleaning you up with his tongue, sucking his fingers clean.

You lick his lips, tasting yourself on him before kissing him.

“Come on, pretty girl.” He coos, helping you off the counter, chuckling at your uneasy legs as he guides you to his bedroom.

The door is clicked shut behind you and Bradley’s pulling you against him, cradling your face in his hands as he clashes his tongue with yours. His pants are pushed off by your greedy hands, then he’s watching you crawl onto his perfectly made bed. Your eyelashes fan perfectly as you stare at him, slowly pulling your dress off and dropping it to the floor.

Fuck.

You’re perfect.

Sitting pretty for him, he lets his eyes roam over your perfect skin, how great you look in his bed.

He’s in trouble.

Your leg extends out, lifting your foot up expectantly. With a pleased smile, he comes forward to the foot of the bed, unbuckling the heel, then the other. He tosses them carelessly behind him, they hit the floor with a clatter.

“Those are expensive.” You warn as he tugs at your ankles, making you gasp and fall onto your back.

“Yeah? I’m sure you have five more pairs just like them.” He states, crawling up the bed to hover over you.

Slowly, the two of you share the same air. You lay, looking up at him. “Come on, Bradley, I won’t tell if you won’t.” You tease.

He could devour you.

“You do this often? Target your brother’s friends?” He jokes back.

Your nails run down his scalp. “I can’t stand my brother’s friends. You on the other hand, you’re different.”

Tongue in your mouth, he’s moaning, sitting up to pull open his nightstand drawer. The foil of the condom is cool in his fingers, he pulls back to sit on his knees as you sit up. You pull his boxer briefs down his toned legs, breathing heavy as his full erection is freed. It aches against his stomach, the tip dripping with precum. You swipe your thumb over it, making him groan.

Completely infatuated, you pump your hand over his length as he rips open the condom package.

“I’ll cum if you keep doing that.” He grunts out, pulling your hand away so he can roll the rubber on. “Get on your stomach.”

The direct tone of his voice has you a mess between your legs, you roll over, legs spread, yelping in surprise as he tugs your hips, positioning your ass in the air.

“Is this okay?” He asks, warmly rubbing your back.

Hair falls in your eyes, he moves it away. You look back at him and nod. “It’s more than okay.”

His dark eyes gleam, then he’s positioning himself at your entrance. You feel the tip of him run down your folds, nudging your clit, making you mewl lowly and grab the pillow.

He pushes halfway in before you gasp, he slowly enters your walls to make sure you’re relaxed enough for him. The pressure his size gives you has you breathing hard already.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart.” He says lowly, letting his head fall back as he finally bottoms out.

Adjusting, you can feel how good he fills you. “Oh god.” You pant, squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly pulls back and pushes into you again.

“You sound so perfect.” Bradley says, slack jawed.

He kneads your ass, gripping it as he sets a pace. The way you lay out on front of him, arched back and taking him so good, he wants to cum inside of you in that moment.

“Mm, like that.” You guid. “You’re so fucking deep.”

Hearing those dirty words from your perfect lips, his vision threatens to go blurry.

“Yeah? Is this what you wanted the whole night, my cock buried inside you. Fuck, you’re so tight, it’s amazing.” He says through gritted teeth.

Pulling your hips, he fucks you back into him. As you meet his thrusts, broken sounds are coming from your throat.

You’re picture perfect, he’s going to be getting off to this image for weeks.

Mind completely cloudy, you mutter your words, they slur together. His fingers snake down to rub your clit and it has you choking on a sob, burying your face into the pillow at the build up inside of you.

“There you go, baby.” He breathes, picking up his pace. His hand stretches to gently tangle in your hair, his thrusts are hard, jolting you.

His name is muffled as you chant it, warning him that you’re oh-so close. You can’t even turn your head to look back at him, you just lean your head back and cry out as you clench around him.

“Holy shit- I’m almost there, hang on.” He grunts, edging himself closer and closer.

Your body shakes. “Bradley.” You whimper out, then you’re coming all over him.

The shout of him is what makes him push fully inside of you one last time and release. He bucks against you, riding his high out.

You’re collapsed onto the mattress now as he pulls out of you, mouth open as you pant, face and hair a mess.

“Holy fuck…” He runs a hand over his face, moving to lean back against his headboard.

He looks down at you, thinking you’re utterly spent. His gentle hands pull you up to him, slowly kissing you, trying to comb your hair down.

You learn how affectionate he can be. Especially after another round, where you’re watching him fuck up into you as you ride him, and genuine tiredness overcomes the two of you. You both clean up, then you try to decide what your next move is.

Hookups weren’t something you were too familiar with, you’ve only ever slept with your previous boyfriends.

Were you supposed to go back to your house? Did he expect you to leave?

The answer is decided when he shifts to his worn side of the bed.

“Come back to bed.” He says, watching you stand in the doorway, looking at your shoes.

Your eyes lift back up to him and his heart stops for a moment, you’re wearing a genuine grin.

Tangled in his sheets, not bothering to get dressed, the two of you talk until you eventually are lulled to sleep. You tried to fight it, but he’s so warm as he holds you, his voice is such a perfect tone, he’s rubbing your head and doing everything a hookup doesn’t do.

He’s well aware of this.

And when you’re snoozing peacefully, tucked against his chest, he curses and looks up at the ceiling.

He was already in too deep.

Part 2 here

[mayghosts]

Caitlin Clark: Dating As Teammates Headcannons

Summary: lucky you, a starting playing on the university of Iowa womens basketball team AND you're dating Caitlin Clark!!

Warnings: barely explicit

AN: This is mainly aimed to UIowa Cait but it can easily be read as Fever Cait, hope you enjoy 🫶

★ Best believe Cait had the worst crush on you before you started dating, she never told anyone but the mst of the team knew

☆ Would always show off during practices and learn new tricks to “catch your attention” (she already had it)

✮ Probably confessed to you immediately after a big game while still standing on the court

“We did it!!” You ran over to Cait, you jumped in into her arms as giggling she spun you around. Quickly placing you back on the ground and stabilizing your shoulders her expression dropped “I need to tell you something.” You looked at her slightly concerned “Caitlin whats wrong?” Taking a deep breath she began, “I know now is probably not the best time, but I need to tell you this now. I have the most brain numbing crush on you. You're all I think about and I would want nothing more in this life than to be your girlfriend and call you mine.” She blinked at you and you were silent for a minute before you pulled her into a tight hug. “I like you too Cait, like a lot a lot.” You could feel her melt in your arms as you stood there together, letting the crowd filter around you.

☆ Once you two started dating, you never entered a practice or game alone. She always drives you there and back. She also would wait for you in the locker room before ay practice or game so you could walk in together.

★ You guys bought iron on patches with each others numbers on them and ironed them on the inside of your jerseys (So she is always wearing your number)

✮ Will always notice when your shoes untied and she will re-tie it before you get the chance (sometimes she gets down, other times she will make you balance on one foot.)

☆ She is always touching you in some way, even when you guys are on the bench during a game. She will put her arm around your chair, let her knee touch yours, wrap her ankle around yours, etc etc.

★ You guys spontaneously told the team you were dating during a team dinner

You felt your phone vibrate under the table, sneakily you flipped it over to reveal a text from Caitlin “Want to tell the team now?” The two of you had been talking about starting to go public with the relationship for a while now. You glanced down the table, catching her eye you shrugged and nodded. Standing up you began to make an announcement as Caitlin made her way around the table to stand with you “Guys me and Cait have something important to say….” you looked at her to complete the sentence but instead she just kissed you.

“Fuck Jada I owe you twenty dollars”

☆ Always has an eye on you during games and will always back you up when arguing with the refs

✮ Permenant bus, hotel and airplane buddy. During flights and long drives you guys will start a spotify jam and fall asleep all cuddled up

★ Acts of service 110%, she's always doing little favours for you. (EX: cleaning when you are swamped with school, picking up an extra breakfast in the hotel lobby for you, carrying extra hair ties and bobby pins for you, anything she can do to help she will try)

☆ You two stay out of the media for a while due to Caits “brand” but eventually you evolve into a private-but-not-a-secret

★ Correlating outfits. Mary Kate and Ashley matching but more chill. The tunnel fits never disappoint and fans love to see the two of you looking cute together.

✮ The two of you spend a lot of time in the gym or the arena together. She loves practicing with you or just fooling around and shooting 3s

[anniebeemine]

sawyer and spencer- s.r. x fem!reader

spencer has no idea how to take care of your son, but he'll try

Spencer stood in the living room, watching as you gathered your things near the front door. He had heard you earlier, casually mentioning that you were heading out for a few hours, but it hadn't really sunk in until now. He glanced over at Sawyer, your son—his soon-to-be stepson—who was standing at the coffee table, gripping it with his small hands, a binky in his mouth.

The little boy wobbled slightly, teetering as he practiced his new standing skills, and Spencer's heart thudded in his chest. He adored Sawyer—he really did—but parenthood still felt like a foreign language he was struggling to understand. He wasn’t sure when to step in, when to let things go, or how much he should be doing. The boundaries between being your partner and Sawyer’s stepfather still felt blurry.

"Are you sure you're okay with Sawyer for a few hours?" you asked, turning to him with a questioning look as you slipped your shoes on.

Spencer straightened up, pushing aside his internal doubts and offering you a quick nod. "Yeah, of course. We’ll be fine," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

You gave him a warm smile, walking over and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. I won’t be gone too long. Just a few errands."

Sawyer babbled something unintelligible, his binky bouncing slightly in his mouth as he looked up at Spencer with wide, curious eyes. Spencer stared back, feeling a mix of affection and panic swirl in his chest. This was the part of parenthood that scared him—the responsibility of being someone this small’s entire world for a few hours.

As you headed out the door, Spencer gave a little wave, still trying to keep the calm facade. Once the door clicked shut, he turned to face Sawyer, who had now plopped down on his bottom, his little legs splayed out in front of him. Spencer swallowed nervously.

"Alright, buddy," Spencer said, walking over and crouching down to Sawyer's level. "It’s just you and me. What do you want to do?"

Sawyer blinked up at him, the binky still firmly lodged in his mouth, then gave a little giggle as if Spencer had just told the funniest joke in the world. Spencer couldn’t help but smile back, his heart softening a little at the sound of Sawyer’s laughter.

“Okay,” Spencer muttered, running a hand through his hair. "How hard can this be?"

Sawyer suddenly reached up, his tiny fingers grabbing for Spencer’s sleeve, and pulled himself up to a wobbly stand again. He wiggled, still holding onto the coffee table for balance, his eyes focused intently on a toy car that was just out of reach.

Spencer watched, his instinct to help warring with the knowledge that you always encouraged Sawyer to figure things out on his own. He wasn’t sure when it was appropriate to step in, or if he should let Sawyer try it on his own.

After a moment, Spencer decided to sit back and watch, his hands hovering near Sawyer, ready to catch him if he fell. "You got this, Sawyer," he encouraged softly. "You can do it."

Sawyer glanced at Spencer, then back at the toy. With a determined little grunt, he let go of the table and took one wobbly step toward the car. Spencer held his breath, heart racing as Sawyer lifted one chubby foot, then the other. He swayed dangerously for a second, and Spencer’s hand instinctively shot out, hovering just behind his back—but Sawyer didn’t fall.

Instead, he reached the toy car and plopped down, triumphant, grabbing the car with a delighted squeal. Spencer let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a mixture of relief and pride flooding through him.

“You did it!” Spencer smiled, his nerves easing slightly as he sat down next to Sawyer. "Good job, buddy."

Sawyer looked up at him with a grin, his binky hanging half out of his mouth, and Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle. For the first time that evening, he felt a small surge of confidence. Maybe he didn’t have this whole parenting thing completely figured out, but in this moment, it was okay. They were figuring it out together, one wobbly step at a time.

"Alright," Spencer said with a soft smile, picking up a second toy car and gently rolling it across the floor. "Let's see what else we can do before your mom gets back."

Sawyer clapped his hands, clearly excited, and Spencer felt the knot of anxiety in his chest start to loosen. Maybe he was still learning, but moments like this? They felt just right.

Spencer spent the next hour on the floor with Sawyer, rolling cars back and forth between them. The more time he spent with Sawyer, the more his nerves began to settle. He even started to enjoy himself, finding the little boy’s infectious giggles and curiosity charming. It was a stark contrast to the chaos Spencer usually faced at work, but this calm, domestic moment had its own challenges—and rewards.

As the afternoon wore on, Sawyer started to get restless, his attention shifting from his toys to the kitchen. Spencer recognized the signs—his soon-to-be stepson was getting hungry. He’d seen you go through the routine before, so he stood up, dusting off his pants, and carefully scooped Sawyer up into his arms.

“Alright, I think it’s snack time,” Spencer said, smiling down at Sawyer, who was already trying to squirm out of his arms to reach for the refrigerator door.

Spencer opened the fridge, glancing around for something he could prepare quickly. His eyes landed on a bowl of pre-cooked oatmeal you must have made earlier. He grabbed it, setting Sawyer down in his high chair and microwaving the oatmeal until it was warm.

When it was ready, Spencer stirred in a little bit of milk to cool it down and then pulled up a chair beside Sawyer. He grabbed two spoons—one for himself and one for Sawyer—then sat back with a sigh. This was another part of parenting that felt odd to him. He never would’ve imagined himself sharing a bowl of oatmeal with a toddler, but here he was.

Sawyer reached for the spoon, his little fingers curling around it awkwardly. Spencer helped guide the spoon to Sawyer’s mouth, then took a small bite himself, smiling at the surprised look on Sawyer’s face as he tasted the oatmeal.

“It’s not so bad, right?” Spencer asked with a chuckle, watching as Sawyer made a happy little sound and reached for more.

They ate together, Sawyer taking messy, enthusiastic bites while Spencer cleaned up any stray oatmeal that dribbled onto the high chair. It was a simple, quiet moment, but there was something soothing about it.

After a while, Sawyer started to slow down, his bites becoming more sluggish as he leaned back in his high chair. Spencer recognized the familiar signs of fatigue—his eyelids were drooping, and his movements were less coordinated.

“Are you getting tired, buddy?” Spencer asked softly, standing up to wipe Sawyer’s hands and face with a damp cloth.

Sawyer let out a small, whiny sound in response, rubbing his eyes with his chubby fists. Spencer carefully lifted him out of the high chair and held him against his chest, his heart softening as Sawyer instinctively nuzzled into him, his small body fitting perfectly in Spencer’s arms.

“There we go,” Spencer murmured, swaying gently as he carried Sawyer over to the couch. He sat down carefully, still holding Sawyer close as the little boy snuggled into him, his head resting against Spencer’s shoulder.

Sawyer let out a sleepy sigh, his hand clutching a fistful of Spencer’s shirt as his eyes fluttered closed. Spencer felt a rush of warmth as he looked down at him, the weight of Sawyer in his arms suddenly making the anxiety of the day fade away. He hadn’t overstepped. He’d taken care of Sawyer, and it had been okay—more than okay, actually.

Spencer continued to rock gently, resting his cheek against Sawyer’s soft hair. The little boy’s breathing became slow and steady, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the quiet, intimate moment they were sharing. For all his fears about parenthood and being unsure of when to step in, right now, with Sawyer asleep in his arms, everything felt right.

When you finally returned a couple of hours later, you found Spencer still sitting on the couch, cradling Sawyer in his arms. The sight made your heart swell with affection. Spencer looked up at you with a soft smile, his eyes full of warmth and pride.

"How did it go?" you asked quietly, not wanting to disturb Sawyer.

Spencer smiled down at the little boy, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "We had a pretty good afternoon. Shared some oatmeal, played with cars... and now, I guess it’s nap time."

You leaned down and kissed Spencer gently on the forehead, whispering, "Thank you."

Spencer met your gaze, his earlier doubts nowhere to be found. "I think we’re going to be just fine," he said softly, his arms wrapped protectively around Sawyer.

And in that moment, you knew he was right.

[subfootboii]

"Good morning."

"Is it a good morning, it Saturday I should be at bed not in the office doing extra work."

"Well at least it's just the two of us in the office."

"Lucky me."

Sam is your coworker, he always bullied you at work, and you never stood up for yourself. You enjoyed it especially when it is in front of other coworkers or boss. He is the tall charismatic guy your female coworkers had a crush on. Little did they all know you also did. Another secret was your foot fetish, you've never told anyone or did anything about it, but you fantasized about Sam's size 13 feet and daydreamed about them all the time.

You both started working and he made himself comfortable as he rested his feet on the desk facing you. This made you hard and less focused on your job. An hour in, he was asking you to get him stuff, prepare his breakfast, and clean his dishes. You complied with all his demands with a smile and a node. Halfway through you've barley finished any of your tasks, as his feet were taking all your focus.

"Go get me the stapler from that desk... Heyy buddy I'm talking to you."

He suddenly removed his feet from the desk and you realized what happened.

"Where you looking at my feet?"

"No... what? Did you need anything from me..."

"You freak were looking at my feet. Just when I thought you can't steep any lower."

"Why are you saying that? What do you mean?"

"Cut that bullshit off. I know you're faggot, look at how you'd anything to please me. But a foot faggot, you're so pathetic aren't you."

"No... let's just get back to work... we have to finish everything by today."

"That wasn't a question fag. Come to my side and kneel before me. Now."

You were never this scared in your life, you felt pathetic and worthless, but your dick was just getting harder than ever. You did what he ordered you to without thinking much of it.

"Yeah that's right fag. No need to lie to yourself anymore. I've had a fag in high-school and one in college, I know how to treat you well fag. Now, here's how things will work from now on, every single day you'll finish all my tasks before yours. I don't care how much overtime you work for yours. You'll address me as "Boss" even in front off our coworkers. Now I'll give you my feet to worship, but don't think you'll get them often. I might leave you my socks every now and then if you're a good fag. Now beg for my feet."

You bowed down and begged as he laughed.

"Please boss let me worship your feet. Please boss let be your fag. Please boss humiliate me. I beg you boss. I'm nothing but a lowlife faggot boss. I beg you boss make me your property."

"Pathetic, here lick my shoes clean."

His shoes were so dirty and smelly but that didn't stop you. You licked them both as hard as you can to make sure they're clean.

"Good fag, look at you taking your nutrients, maybe I should let you pass by my place and clean all my footwear. My college fag loved that."

You were so glad to hear that compliment, you made more effort in licking.

"That's enough shoes. Now take it off, I have a surprise for you."

You took his shoes off and he had no socks on, a stinky smell hit the whole office and made you almost faint. He laughed and pushed his foot on your face.

"Yeah I know you like that fag. Now you better clean them, you don't have much time. I texted my friends and they'll come and get me. I still have some tasks be sure to complete them then spend the whole night doing yours."

You didn't miss a second and attacked his feet, they were sweaty and big, his toes were perfect and his soles were soft.

"Well I guess that's it fag they're here, I have to go now."

"But boss I just started with your feet please give me some time."

He struck his foot against your face making you lose your balance and fall.

"A pathetic fag like you gets the opportunity to taste my feet and now you want more time, while fags would die to see my bare feet. I don't think you'll ever see my feet again faggot, and as a punishment I'll have your paycheck this month."

You knelt as he got his shoes on to leave and begged for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry boss. You're right. You always are, a faggot like me is lucky to be able to be kneel before you. I beg for your forgiveness boss."

"Yeah know your worth fag. For now, no foot duties to you. Let's see how good of a fag you are first."

"Yes boss. Thank you boss."

[bunnysbrainrot]

No Vacancy - Day One

Relationship: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Content: fluff, nothing spicier yet

Summary: Separated from Dean and Castiel, you and Sam are on your own. Now paired up, you spend a few days in a motel. The only problem? The last room available only has one bed.

A/N: shout-out to all the Sam lovers, this one’s for y’all (me included tbh) **forehead kiss**

————

“Well,” Sam said, his hands gripping the steering wheel, “I think this is literally the only motel in town.”

And he was right. The two of you had scoured the area for over an hour, driving block after block for any other place to stay. This lone motel was far from where you needed to be for the case, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“That’s what you get in a small town, I guess,” you reply, grabbing your backpack from the floor of the car. Of course, Dean couldn’t fathom letting the two of you borrow Baby, so you had to get another ride. Thankfully, Sam had his own car in the garage of the bunker, a newer one with polished leather seats yet less flashy than the Impala.

Sam parked the car and cut off the engine, letting out a sigh.

You looked at him, tilting your head in concern, “At least we can rest, now. We can shower up and turn in for the night.”

Sam nodded in relieved agreement - the past few days had worn you both thin, exhausted and in need of proper sleep. The two of you stepped out of the car, grabbed your duffles from the back seat, and walked to the lobby of the motel to rent your room.

The clerk at the desk was not a talker, the silence in the room feeling uncomfortably thick. Sam nodded to the man with a terse smile and guided you back outside.

“That guy definitely wants to go home,” joked Sam. At last, you reached room 115, your final spot for the day. You stretched your aching neck as Sam unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“Crap.”

“What is it?”

“I think we were given the wrong room,” Sam continued, stepping out of the room to let you peer inside. A single king sized bed sat against the wall, with no other place to sleep. You turned to Sam, who had already made his way back to the main office. You waited for him for a few moments, seeing him return with a remorseful look.

“What’s up?”

“That’s the only room left,” Sam explained, “you wanna stay here anyway? They didn’t have a cot, but we can figure something out.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

You waved dismissively, giving Sam an embarrassed smile, “Don’t worry, we’re both adults here. Sharing a room doesn’t bother me.”

Sam looked at you for a moment, contemplating the next step. He shrugged and opened the door to 115 again, leading you inside.

The room was small and sparsely furnished - just the bed, an armchair, and the TV sat on a minuscule set of drawers. You placed your bag down next to the lonesome armchair, and sat down to remove your shoes.

In front of you, Sam paced at the foot of the bed.

“They, uh… didn’t have a cot, so I’m not sure how you’d want to go about this.”

You kicked your boots to the side and glanced up at him.

“Scared of sharing a bed, Sam?”

If you were being honest, you were petrified of the idea. Ever since joining this self-proclaimed ‘Team Free Will’, Sam had been the one you’d gotten closest to. Before they took you in, you had been more reserved and quiet. A more nerdy type of person; Sam was the perfect guy to buddy up with. You both had a passion for research, to Dean’s dismay.

“So we finally have a chick on the team, and we get another nerd?” He had teased.

Despite Dean giving you shit for it, you had never felt more welcome into a group. There was a sense of purpose, a motivation to save people from monsters. With your help, the world would be a safer place for those unaware of what lurks in the shadows.

Bringing you back to reality, Sam cleared his throat.

“I’m not, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You retorted, “And why would I be uncomfortable with you?”

He quipped, “I mean, how often have we been forced to share a bed?”

He had a point, and your brave façade of nonchalance wouldn’t last much longer. Sure, if you both kept to a side of the bed, fully clothed, it would leave the fewest issues. But the butterflies in your stomach told you that this may not be something you could handle easily.

Your mind raced back to a memory of a case three months back, out in Tennessee. It was another shapeshifter, and it was hard for Sam and Dean to gather intel about much of anything. It was Dean’s foolish idea to send you and Sam to question the local townsfolk, masked as a tourist couple to keep your anonymity to a maximum. That time spent with Sam opened your eyes to what you had been missing for a shamefully long time. Love, or at least what felt like it.

Although it had been an act, the sweet gestures Sam had to uphold for the charade won your heart. He opened each door for you, kissed your cheeks, held your hand, the whole nine. Everything he had done drove you wild. Except, the one thing he never did was press his lips to yours. It seemed like a sick game of Dean’s pairing you up like that. You made sure to give him shit for it, telling him how embarrassing it was to have two friends act like a couple. What Dean didn’t know was the secret gratefulness you had for his plan.

At one point Dean did suggest you liked Sam, to which you denied, fumbling over your words like an idiot. He had shrugged it off, but now you wondered if that interaction inspired him to cut you off from him and Castiel. You silently cursed that damn Winchester for it.

“Never, but it’s just for a couple nights, right? We’ll share ghost stories and braid each other’s hair. It’ll be fun,” you joked, having walked over to Sam and patting his arm.

You went to the bed and furiously fluffed each pillow - the ones in motels were notoriously limp. Next you shook out the blanket. You hated the way it stayed cold when it’d been pulled taught to the mattress all day. Of all fun facts about you, Sam found that the most endearing. He hadn’t told you before, but he’d always been keen on your quirks. Simply put, he loved that he wasn’t the ‘weird one’ anymore.

Getting comfortable on the bed, Sam flopped down, still fully dressed in those tough denim jeans and signature red flannel. Your eyes grazed over him as he closed his eyes from exhaustion. Your pajamas were in your duffel, so you fumbled for them before heading to the bathroom to change. The sound of the TV muffled against the door - it seemed to be one of those dramatic crime shows you and the brothers scoffed at.

Pajamas was a loose term for the oversized t-shirt and mid-thigh sleepshorts you wore to bed. If you were alone maybe you’d have worn far less. Sam had removed his shoes, at the very least. You dimmed the lamp in the corner of the room and settled onto the bed. Then that was it, the exhaustion of today had finally gotten to you. It took everything in you to not let your mind drift off to sleep.

“We gotta go into town tomorrow?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah,” his voice honeyed with a groggy softness, “we should talk to the families of the victims. Figure out if these really were ‘accidents’.”

“FBI? Police? Ooh, maybe church officials?”

Sam let out a breathy laugh at your joke, the husk of his voice reverberating through you. God, it could be absolute torture to be around him at times. When the stress of hunting melted away, and you two could be your real selves.

“Just FBI, Cas is on standby as our ‘supervisor’.”

You looked to him fully, “Cas is our supervisor? And Dean actually trusts he can do that? Cas doesn’t know the first thing about the FBI.”

“Eh, Dean thought it could be good for the ‘people skills’,” Sam replied, finally opening his eyes at turning his head to you. Suddenly the two feet between you felt like mere inches. Your breath caught in your throat; you couldn’t reply even if you tried, so you opted for a small smile. Sam countered it with one of his own - the flashy grin that melted your heart more each time.

“We’re gonna have to get up so early. I’m not too excited for that.”

Sam’s face softened, his voice lowering, “We should get some sleep, then. You good with that side of the bed?”

You nodded, rising out of bed to switch the lamp off. The light from the TV drew Sam’s sights to you, loosely shrouded by your shirt and shorts. His eyes raked over your bare legs, wandering up your thighs until your shorts stalled his imagination. Sam followed suit and stood, but walked to the bathroom with a handful of clothes plucked from his bag.

A moment later he returned to see you under the covers, hunched over from the cold. Whatever those shitty detectives said on the TV drowned out as you noticed Sam. Just then you realized you had never seen him wear anything but a suit or his regular garb. Even in boxer shorts and a black t-shirt, he managed to catch your eye.

He caught your eye contact and smiled once more, that familiar ache in your chest growing stronger. You reached over and lifted the covers for him, letting him settle on his side of the bed.

“Do you sleep with the TV on?” You asked softly.

“No, do you?”

You gave him a small laugh, closing your eyes, “Nope. Keeps me up too late.”

Sam smiled. A part of him was relieved that he could get some proper rest with you here. Dean had the habit of leaving the TV on, depriving him of countless hours of sleep.

Even though they were rare, Sam appreciated these moments alone with you. It was easy to be with you. It was easy to laugh, to open up, to ramble on about whatever lore he had obsessed over. He loved the way your eyebrows tugged together when you didn’t understand something, and the way you tried piecing words together before asking your questions.

The A.C. unit cranked on beside the bed, pumping freezing cold air on your back. You shivered, curling into yourself to keep the warmth in.

Sam’s eyebrows raised slightly, “Hey, are you cold? I can turn the A.C. off.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll warm up in a minute,” you insisted. Sam sighed, knowing you wouldn’t say yes, and turned the unit off.

He quickly settled back into bed, letting out a shuddering exhale. You waited until he shifted under the covers to speak.

“You cold, too?”

“Maybe just a little bit.”

In the faint light of the TV you could make out his smile. A part of your mind drifted off to a place where that smile met you every day, lounging around in bed. Sam’s hands would run across your skin and tangle into your hair, pulling your mouth to his before making you breakfast.

The room dimmed as the television went silent. You and Sam shifted under the covers for a moment before getting fully comfortable, the silence of the room felt like a bated breath.

Sam broke it first, “These blankets don’t really do their job, do they?”

You replied to him, “Not a damn bit. It’s freezing in here.”

“You can, uh… move closer if you need to,” his voice wavered. The silhouette of his form moved to face you, dimly lit by the light from street lamps in the parking lot. You could make out his sharp cheekbones and the chestnut brown hair draped around his neck.

When another shiver won your body over you took the offer, moving closer to Sam until your arms touched. Now inches from one another like you’d wished, your mind went blank.

It took everything you had to remind yourself what this was, well, wasn’t. This wouldn’t be the lust-driven breakthrough you had hoped for. Nor would it be the time for Sam Winchester to take you the way you ached for. An awkward, strictly business sleeping situation.

You let your mind wander off, the waves of exhaustion turning into the gentle lull of sleep. You could’ve sworn you felt Sam’s arm wrap around your waist, keeping you warm.

————

By the time you woke up, Sam was still fast asleep. You had never seen him like this up close, with his eyes fluttered shut and breathing slowed. The image painted itself into your memory.

You were right, though, Sam had laid his arm over you. And now both had enveloped you close to his chest, rising and falling steadily against your ear. It took twenty more minutes for Sam to wake up.

He stirred until he noticed you flush against him, and he stilled completely. You wiggled in his grip to look up at him.

With a groggy smile you greeted him, “G’morning.”

“Hey,” he said, voice still thick with sleep, “sleep okay?”

You gave him a simple nod, regaining your composure. You scooted yourself away to give him the space that should’ve been there all night. Even though a part of you crumbled as you did, you padded out of bed to the bathroom.

“At least we know to turn off the A.C. tonight. Maybe a room with two beds will open up while we’re out, and we can switch.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak before you closed the bathroom door. What he was going to say escaped him.

He just hoped no other rooms opened up before the evening.

Thank you for your support, everyone! Day two will be here soon

- Bunny

[peleksstuff]

escape 1v | rafe cameron x pogue! reader

*gifs not mine*

just as i promise with the 50notes a lil bit late but yeah and also ty for those people reblogging really appreciate getting my writings out there and also for the rafegirlies out there for just reading this series yeah i think thats it or else too much yapping ahaha go ahead and read this ☺️

~~~~~~~

one

two

three

"Dance with me."

You blinked up at him, caught off guard.

"What?"

——————————-

It was the kind of party where everyone who mattered on the island was in attendance—everyone except the Pogues. But you weren’t there to party. You were there to work.

Dressed in a white shirt and black slacks, you blended in with the other waitstaff, balancing trays of champagne as you moved through the crowd of well-dressed Kooks.

You kept your head down, avoiding any unnecessary attention, but it was hard not to notice the familiar faces of the people you usually avoided.

Sarah Cameron was laughing with her friends near the buffet, and Topper was mingling with some other Kooks near the entrance. Your stomach tightened when you spotted Rafe standing by the bar, drink in hand, talking to a couple of his buddies.

The last thing you wanted was to run into him, especially in front of this crowd.

As you passed by, you felt his eyes on you. You glanced up for a second, meeting his gaze, and to your surprise, Rafe smiled at you.

It wasn’t a mocking smirk or the usual arrogant grin he gave to people. It was just… a smile. Simple, unguarded.

For a moment, you were taken aback, but then you found yourself smiling back, just a small curve of your lips.

Neither of you said anything, and you quickly continued with your work, moving to the next table. Rafe turned back to his conversation, but something about that brief exchange left a strange warmth in your chest.

Across the room, Pope and Kiara were standing together, catching the moment out of the corner of their eyes.

"Did Rafe just smile at a Pogue?" Pope asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Kiera glanced between you and Rafe, her expression just as confused.

"Yeah… that’s rare," she muttered, shaking her head before they both moved on, equally baffled by what they had witnessed.

You were too busy focusing on the job to notice them, though. The night carried on, and you weaved through the crowd, offering drinks and making sure to stay out of trouble.

Everything was going smoothly—until you accidentally stepped on the shoe of a well-dressed girl in an emerald green gown.

She gasped dramatically, looking down at her foot as if you had just committed the worst crime in the world.

"Are you serious?" she snapped, her voice loud enough to catch the attention of a few people nearby.

“You stepped on my shoes, you filthy—ugh, I can’t believe this.” She exaggerated her disgust, wiping at her shoes dramatically.

You stepped back, heart racing. "I’m really sorry—"

"Sorry?" she interrupted, her tone dripping with disgust.

“Do you even know how much these cost? Of course, you don’t. You probably can’t even afford shoes that aren't falling apart."

The humiliation hit you hard, and you felt the eyes of the crowd on you, the heat rising to your face.

You could feel the tears prickling behind your eyes, but you swallowed them down, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

"I’m sorry," you mumbled again, trying to hold it together.

Before the situation could escalate, your supervisor appeared, stepping between you and the girl.

"Is there a problem here?"

The girl scoffed. "Your waitress is a disaster. She’s lucky I don’t demand compensation for my shoes."

"Apologies, ma’am. We’ll handle this," your supervisor said with a tight smile, before turning to you.

"Go to the back, now."

You nodded quickly, ducking your head and heading for the back door. You tried to push down the lump in your throat, hoping that your supervisor wouldn’t fire you.

You needed this job—this gig was one of the few chances to make some extra money, and losing it would be a blow you couldn’t afford.

You waited near the staff room, nervously tapping your foot, hoping that you’d just get a warning and not be sent home. But when the manager finally came back, his face was thunderous.

"You’re done for the night. Go home."

"Please, I really need this job. I didn’t mean to—" you started, but he cut you off.

"I don’t care. You’re out. Now."

Your heart sank, and you could feel the tears welling up again. Without another word, you went to the changing area, slipping back into your clothes.

The party music from the event drifted through the air as you stepped outside, heading to where your bike was chained near the back of the estate. As you fumbled with the lock, you heard the rumble of an engine behind you.

Rafe’s truck pulled up beside you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him stepping out.

He walked over, hands in his pockets, a familiar nonchalant expression on his face, but his eyes held something softer, something like understanding.

"Midsummers," Rafe said with a half-smile, "the worst, right? My father kicked me out."

You snorted, surprised at the casual admission. "Maybe because you were cornering a Pogue. JJ?"

Rafe laughed, a low, easy sound. "Yeah, you saw that? Surprised you didn’t save his ass."

You shook your head, smiling faintly.

"He’s a big man. He can handle himself. Which he did." You thought of Kiara and Sarah running off with the boys, probably causing some sort of chaos somewhere.

Rafe leaned against the side of his truck, watching you with that same relaxed gaze. "You’re not wrong."

For a moment, you just stood there, the tension from earlier slipping away as you bantered back and forth. It felt surprisingly easy, like the weight of the night didn’t matter anymore.

After a pause, Rafe’s eyes flicked toward the beach, then back at you.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asked, nodding toward the sand in the distance.

You hesitated for a moment, but something about the way he was standing there, relaxed, open, made you nod.

“Sure.”

The two of you drove down to the shoreline, parking near the sand. The night sky was clear, the stars twinkling overhead as the sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air.

You sat by the water, both of you with a beer in hand, the cool breeze offering a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the Midsummers event.

Rafe turned the radio on in his truck, and a soft melody floated through the night. You felt the weight of the day’s stress begin to fade, the peacefulness of the moment sinking in.

Then, without warning, Rafe stood and extended his hand to you.

"Dance with me."

You blinked up at him, caught off guard.

"What?"

He smirked, shrugging slightly. "C’mon. It’s a slow song. What’s the harm?"

For a second, you hesitated. But then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet.

The music played softly as Rafe’s hands settled on your waist, yours resting on his shoulders. It was awkward at first, neither of you saying much, but the longer you swayed to the music, the more the tension seemed to fade.

The world around you felt far away, the night closing in just the two of you, the sound of the waves and the distant hum of the music blending into something that felt almost… peaceful.

[yoredoesmore]

Hi! Can I have a request of Soshiro with fem reader? Where his s/o found them gushing a very smol plushie version of him even s/o peppering some kisses on the plush and Soshiro get jealous or pout.

Will he try gain his s/o attention or he just yeet the plush? 🤣

a/n: no because I went through my requests, saw this and immediately sat down and wrote away it because its just so funny and cute!! thank you for putting something in!

pairing: Hoshina x fem!Reader

genre: fluff/comedy [wc: 976]

enjoy!

Just Kiss the Original | Hoshina Soshiro

It was a sight to behold– and not in a good way. For Hoshina at least.

Hoshina stood in the doorframe of your shared bedroom, hands hovering over the light switch. A long day of work had finally come to its end and there was nothing else he wished to do but fall into the arms of his lovely significant other. But upon stepping foot into your apartment, soft smooch sounds rang into his ears.

For a second, Hoshina felt his heart sink into the bottom of his stomach, mind drifting towards the unthinkable. But he quickly collected himself and remembered that you were not that kind of person. Therefore he continued as planned, took off his shoes and jacket and then made his way into your bedroom.

But what he saw when he made it into the cozy space knocked the remaining energy he had right out of his lungs and deflated him like a balloon.

You sat on your bed, legs crossed and arms wrapped around a plushie that shared a lot of similarities with your boyfriend– in fact, that was the Vice Captain! The plushy found itself in your warm embrace, pampered in kisses and snuggles and even more kisses. Your lips were curled into a warm smile as you cooed and patted the cotton imitation of your significant other.

“Who is so adorable? You are!”

Hoshina found himself speechless at the sight. He was aware that you had him, the plushie. It was a stupid gift from Ashiro who thought it was funny. You once mentioned how bored you got whenever Hoshina was working overtime, thus she got you this mini version of him to cure the loneliness. Back then he found it amusing. But now, watching that cotton ball get the special treatment reserved specifically for him? It was aggravating to say the least.

You didn't even seem to notice Hoshina who only stood a couple meters behind you at the door. Your lips continued to find the plushie's face, placing soft kisses on its head and whispering little secrets into its ears.

I ain't getting jealous over no damn plushie! He thought to himself, ready to make his presence known to you. But all of a sudden he watched you lift the small buddy towards your mouth and..bite him? You were laughing, jokingly holding the thing with your mouth. To you it was a silly little motion, harmless to both your reputation and the plushy but for Hoshina it was the last straw.

The plushie sat in your hand, but then suddenly it didn't.

Something had grabbed it by the head and threw it against the wall with such force that you temporarily feared it was going to get a concussion. Abruptly turning your gaze around, your eyes were met with the ones of your boyfriends.

“Soshiro what the–”

You didn't even get to finish your sentence. Hoshina placed himself on your lap, head resting on the soft flesh of your skin. His eyes peered up to lock with yours and his cold hands slid towards your fingers to interlock them. Was he..pouting?

“Just kiss the original.” Was all he said before closing his eyes.

You, who still had to wrap her head around the situation, simply looked down at the man, puzzled and perplexed. But then you smiled. Leaning forward, you placed a long kiss on Sohiro's lips. The man couldn't help himself but smile into it.

As you pulled away you saw the cheekiness that sat on his face, as if he had just achieved something great. Was he feeling accomplishment? For throwing a plushie out of your hands?

“The original got a little jealous there, hm?” Your hands found comfort in his hair, running its fingers through the soft purple.

“I have no idea whaddya talkin about.” He replied, eyes remaining shut. You simply chuckled and continued to pet his head.

“But I must say that the original is much cuter than the doll, oh my.” Another kiss found its way towards his lips. But this time when you tried to pull away, Hoshina placed his hand on the back of your head, keeping your upper body lowered. His face was now a mere breath away from yours.

“Please stop calling me that, Y/n.”

“Didn't you start it?”

There he goes again.

Hoshina was a man of pride and strength. He was feared on base grounds and even the Kaiju's blood ran cold when hearing his name. But at home, when with you, Hoshina revealed a special part of himself, one meant solely for you to witness. His soft spot

“Soshiro.” You whispered, the distance between you and him slowly fading.

Nothing could replace the warmth of your kisses and the feelings of passion and admiration you felt when in each other's presence. Not even the cutest plushie.

Bonus:

“What is that??” Your eyes almost exploded out of their sockets as you watched Hoshina pull forth a little doll from behind his back. You were both sitting on your bed ready to end the day.

“Shinomiya knows a guy who makes dolls and I told her to make one that resembles you. So now when I'm at work and I feel lonely I can just take little Y/n out and feel much better.”

The mischievous grin on Soshiro’s face said it all– this was payback time. Your boyfriend was trying to get back at you for what happened a week ago and as much as it irritated you, it was working.

“The doll actually looks like you, isn't that great? I don't have to bother you with my late night video calls anymore now that I–” As Soshiro was talking away you grabbed the doll and threw it away behind you. Unfortunately, it happened to fly right out the open window and landed onto the streets.

Where it got run over by a car.

[haven-of-dusk]

An interesting result of the...Buck/Tommy situation? Tevan situation? I personally don't love that ship name because it makes Tommy sound like a cute add on to Evan as a full name (which feels indicative of how their relationship has been written so far as well, but I digress). Back to the point, the Tevan discussion has revealed who is a Buddie fan/stan, and who is a Buck fan/stan who shipped Buddie.

And this isn't solely talking about the weird twitter people saying Eddie should die or be written out somehow so Buck and Tommy can adopt Christopher as their own, because that's a whole different level of wtf.

What I'm also referring to is a subset who say they only want Buck to be happy, essentially trying to say Tevan is fine if Buck is happy, but then when asked don't have an answer as to what Eddie's happy ending would be in that timeline. The utterance that maybe he could just settle down with Marisol, which I have seen, made me physically cringe at how little understanding it displays of Eddie's arc, the important parts of his character, and how fundamentally wrong it would feel to give Buck a whole self-discovery and self-actualization arc and then turn around to make Eddie's "happy ending" a random girl with which he has no chemistry, and his relationship with her actively undermines his arc up till now.

Like I get wanting Buck to be happy, that's valid, but it demonstrates how much of a Buddie vs just Buck stan one is if they're willing to disregard Eddie's ending entirely just because Buck would get a happy one. Eddie is not Buck's love interest, and part of what makes Buddie so meaningful to so many is that it's two well-developed characters whose arcs intertwine in an engaging way. If you truly love and ship Buddie, I'd be very surprised if you didn't love both of them as individuals. That's not to say you can't have one you prefer (mine is Eddie, if I haven't made that obvious before), but a casual disregard for the other makes proported love for the ship feel disingenuous.

And don't misunderstand, if the shoe was on the other foot and we were witnessing the Eddie/Tommy story right now, I'm sure there's be some alleged Buddie fans ready to toss Buck aside in favor of Eddie's happy ending. I would speculate it wouldn't be as numerous, because Buck is generally the more popular character, but I'm sure it would still happen.

I hope some part of that made sense. I just really do love both Eddie and Buck, and seeing people claim to love their ship and subsequently toss Eddie aside and disregard him deserving a happy ending as much as Buck does makes me...upset.

And to you magical people who are mutli-shipping Tevan and Buddie at the same time and coming up with alternative timeline happy endings for everyone regardless of how the triangle of sorts plays out, I salute you. I don't think my brain could handle that, but I respect that you can.

[starry-hughes]

the breakup

dakota called multiple times. the bar emptied. the watch party ended. “mark please just call me and tell me you’re okay.”

he wasn’t answering. watching some of his teammates pack up forever. he couldn’t breathe. he didn’t feel like he could breathe until he got back to ann arbor.

dakota was there to pick him up he kept walking. “mark.” “go home dakota.”

“mark.”

he kept walking. she glanced at his friends. “dakota just give him a second.” she ignored them, following her boyfriend. “i don’t know what you’re feeling right now. and i just want to help. but you can’t just walk away from me.”

mark stops, he’s fiddling with something in his hands. his teammates watching. “please.” he turns for a second and metal hits dakota’s shoes. she doesn’t want to look down. “leave me alone dakota.”

her apartment key, mark’s copy. it’s laying at her feet. “dude,” ethan shouts, taking off after mark, he turns, tears welting in his own eyes for his friends, “kota i’m sorry.”

dakota couldn’t breathe until she got to her apartment. she threw her keys to the side and the sob escaped her lips. she was sobbing. she went to her closet, ripping down all the michigan hockey shirts she had collected. she couldn’t breathe. she looked at the wad of yellow ribbons she always wore in her hair for games, angrily throwing it into the trash.

everything was in a trash bag. it was late when she knocked on the door of the house. “dakota he’s not in the mood-” dylan duke opened the door, eyes still red from tears. “take this. i don’t want his shit. i can’t look at it,” she cried handing him the bag. “dakota just give him-”

“tell him that i don’t ever want to see him again. do you understand dylan? never. tell him to walk the other way on campus. tell him to not come to my work or try to make it better. i am tired of being shut out.”

dylan swallowed hard. “dakota, please.”

she laughed through the tears. “i-i try. i try to understand how much hockey affects you guys. and i know you guys love it and it’s your life. but mark is supposed to love me too. i try to help and every time i try to help he refuses.” she holds her head high and wipes her face. “i’m sorry you guys lost. and i’m sorry about the guys leaving for their teams. and i’m sorry for making you the messenger. but i can’t keep doing this.”

she walks down the driveway, to her car that is still running. dylan is biting his tongue but he can only do it for so long before the protection of his best friend comes out. he would do anything for mark.

“yeah you’re right, it’s better you walk away from him now. when he’s going to need you the most. can’t wait to watch him tear down that photo of you in his locker.”

she turns on her foot, noticing ethan has entered the doorway. she wants to say something but she can’t. “mark is our best friend. so sure we will pick up the pieces for you. because you’re going to break him. this is going to break him,” dylan continues.

dakota looks at ethan. “you should go before he comes downstairs,” ethan says coldly, “you know, so you don’t have to see him.”

she bit her bottom lip, keeping herself from completely breaking down. the door slammed as she walked away and got into her car. the boys wouldn’t admit it, but they waited until she got into her car safely to stop watching.

dylan threw the bag to the side, where all the shoes were in a pile. “who was that?” mark had come downstairs, eyes bloodshot. “no one,” ethan said, eyes flickering to mark’s attire. he was wearing shoes and his keys were in his hand, “where are you going?”

“i think i should go apologize to kota.”

“mark-” dylan started. “i was shitty to her and she just wants to help.” “buddy-”

“i really love her. and i was a dick to her and-”

“she just dropped all your stuff off here.”

[inanimatefan1]

Did not go as planned (Collage roommate Sneaker TF Story)

My roommate Tyler like new sneakers, i was dying to know what it was like to be his sneaker, so when he left the room to go to the bathroom, i transformed into a pair of sleek, brand-new sneakers, for him, nothing will go wrong, i thought.

My perspective has radically shifted; seeing the room from the sneaker's point of view and him coming out of the bathroom. I feel Tyler's feet coming closer, and before I know it, his socks are slipping into me. It's a weird feeling, not unpleasant, but I am suddenly very aware of how sweaty and smelly feet can get. I can't move or express any emotion, but internally I'm both thrilled and apprehensive.

"Wow, these feel great!" Tyler exclaims, oblivious to the fact that his new kicks are actually his friend, me, transformed. He ties the laces, securing his feet snugly within me.

That's when I notice Tyler reaching for a marker on the table. He uncaps it and scribbles something on the sneakers tongue. I feel a slight tickling sensation but can't see what he's written. Instinctively, I know that Tyler's just marked me as his property. My heart sinks, realizing the gravity of what that might mean for my ability to change back. I frantically focus, trying to muster the energy to revert to my original form. But nothing happens. I'm stuck, and the panic begins to set in. My situation worsens as I remember Tyler's reputation for making his belongings quickly smelly and worn out. I'm about to become one of those belongings, I think to myself, but all I can do is "exist" as a pair of his sneakers.Tyler starts walking around, and I can feel his weight pressing down with each step. The warmth and moisture from his feet start to make me feel more and more like a regular pair of sneakers, and less like Josh trapped in this form.

Finally, Tyler heads to his friends college dorm room, where he meets up with some friends, notorious for their messy habits. They're impressed with Tyler's new sneakers, giving them a few admiring glances, completely unaware that I am those sneakers. Tyler kicks me off, throwing me casually into a corner where I land next to other worn-out shoes and discarded clothes. The smell is overwhelming, a cocktail of sweat, dirt, and who knows what else. As I lie there, waiting for what comes next, a sinking feeling washes over me. Tyler and his friends start a video game marathon, and I know it's going to be a long night. Even worse, Tyler's got a track meet tomorrow, and I've got a front-row seat—or perhaps more accurately, a foot-row seat. All I can do now is be the best pair of sneakers I can be, because for the foreseeable future, that's all I am. And as much as I'd like to change back, it looks like I'm stuck in this form for a while—Tyler's smelly, well-worn sneakers. And there I am, Josh, trapped as a pair of sneakers with no way to communicate or revert to my original form, subjected to whatever Tyler and his college buddies have in store for me.

Over the course of several weeks, I come to realize that my efforts to transform back are futile. Each day, Tyler's activities—whether it's a long run, a gym workout, or simply walking around campus—intensify the smell inside me. Initially, the stench was overpowering and unpleasant, but a strange thing starts to happen as the days pass. With every wear, the scent permeates me more deeply, and I find myself becoming increasingly disoriented yet oddly calm. It's as if Tyler's distinctive smell has become a potent aroma that affects my very essence. I become more accustomed to the smell, and the sharp edges of my previous panic and anxiety start to blur. As Tyler slips his feet into me day after day, something within me starts to change. What was once a nauseating odor has become, inexplicably, comforting. I feel more attuned to Tyler's rhythm and routine. It's like I'm enveloped in a sensory haze, somewhat akin to a high. When he takes me off at the end of the day and tosses me into the smelly corner of his room, I no longer dread it; I actually look forward to joining that pungent pile of worn clothes and old shoes. After a few weeks of this, I find myself in an almost zen-like state whenever Tyler wears me. My earlier thoughts of changing back into my human form have all but vanished. It's as if Tyler's smell has a hypnotic quality, grounding me in this new existence. And so, I find a strange form of peace in my new life as a pair of sneakers, completely intoxicated by Tyler's scent. My worries, my former life, and even my sense of self become distant memories. I'm not just a pair of sneakers; I'm Tyler's sneakers, and strangely enough, that has become my entire world. I don't know if I'll ever change back, or even if I want to. For now, I'm oddly content, basking in the heady atmosphere of Tyler's college life. And so, I continue to exist, half-aware and half-lost in a fragrant fog, a small but integral part of Tyler's world.

I can't imagine anything better than being Tyler's smelly sneaker…

First part of at least 4 parts.

[broooooo]

Coaches gift

________________________

"I'm Aaron, a very forgettable 20 year old guy with no life, technically speaking, you could say I haven't left my house for 20 years, I might be in a dorm room at university, but I don't feel any different, I'm not very interested in a relationship or sex, partying doesn't sound fun, and friends? Yeah I wish, thinking I'm a waste of space isn't new to me, dying alone is what I imagine my future to be.

Too be honest, IV always wanted to play sports, ever since I was younger, but my parents didn't allow it, I wish I was more like the other guys, dating and having fun with a big group of friends,

If I could choose, I would play football, those guys are always so hot, and have lots of fun, too bad it's too late for me, I'm not 4 anymore.

Any time I have jacked off, when I was younger, it was to the fantasy of a transformation, but now I don't feel anything anymore, just tired and dead inside, wishing won't help anymore, nothing will change my fate now"

Untill one day..

I go to the mail room in the universities dorm entrance to check if anything is in my box, nothing inside but shockingly underneath is a box with a letter addressed to me.

I pick it up to shake it, it's heavy, sounds like a pair of shoes? , I'm very confused, I take the box and letter to my dorm.

I lock my door behind me, my heart's racing with curiosity to what's inside, I open it up to find.

A pair of football cleats?

*this is very confusing, damn, but why?", I ask my self

Looking at them they are well designed, I enjoy them, just why I wondered?

Turning my attention to the letter I open it up, wondering what the universe had in store for me

---------------------------------------------------------- dear

aaron, you must have a lot of questions right now but in time they with be answered,

Ihear your plee for change and have come to help, take this gift as a sign of brotherhood

I hope you enjoy them

- coach and the team

_____________________________________________

I put down the letter in shock

"am I being spied on or something? This sounds way too coincidental"

Oh well, guess there's no harm done

Starring at the cleats, it's creepily ominous, I can't wait to try them on

I quickly take them out, the feel of the leather on my skin is satisfying and the smell of it, fresh and new gives of a high iv never felt,

In the excitement I notice my dick Starting to harden

" whoa there buddy, guess this is truly something different isn't it "

I slide them on my feet, a perfect fit, I tie them

"AaaaAAAHHH hhhhhh this tightness, hehehe" the feel of the right cleats make me happy, each foot movement gets massaged by the tight leather, sending orgasmic eaves through me,

Sitting on my drom floor , now rock hard and drooling, "hhuuhu, damn in horned up"

I take my dick out, pulsing and begging to leak, I stoke slowly, enjoying it all, feeling dizzy and horny, drooling like a complete idiot

""aww yeahhh brahhh"

Not noticing the changes, my body starts to grow and expand, muscled blow up , my abs hardening and my jaw line straightening out,, my legs hard as trees and my feet getting even tighter inside the shoes

With each stroke, my muscles grew , my hair become quaffed and short, just like the other guys, and my mind changed

I was no longer who I was, my insignificant self going into my balls, my hand stroking as pre covers my dick

I think of sex, football, beer , ..."brahhhhhh.,."

*Damn pussy... Tits....bhuhu "

With each stroke my new identity sets in. I'm a

" football jock... Horny .. big... BRAHHHHHHH, YEAH BRAHHH"

Just like that cum, cum explodes everywhere, soaking everything, ropes of cum go all over me and my now, new jock dorm room

Looking up at a poster of a nude model on the wall, I burst with cum even more

, I lay there covered in cum and still horny

My door opens to jet, walking in, my best bro, almost as horny as I,

"damn bro, you want some help there bro? "

"brahhhh u mind bro? "

"anything for a bro

Just like that, jet jacks me off again before practice,, he too joins in as we both jack each other off

"yo Aaron, heard there's new babes at the party tonight"

"YOO LETS GOOO brahhhh " as our dicks explode with cum .

We lay there, soaked in cum, ready for practice, ready to obey coach, ready to breed some chicks

Jet turns to be and says ," damn bro, nice cleats, coach got them for you?

"yeaah brah, nice aren't they? , U can borrow them if u like"

"thanks bro, now let's go, can't let coach wait for us to long"

"rght bro, off to practice"

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What do u guys think? Good? I'm not sure about it XD but I wanted to do something hehe

The first part of the story is true to the real me, allas, sports is a faint dream at this point

Anyway, baii, enjoy your fantasies