#the one with him on the crane reminds me of that one movie with the two guys trying to get the baby off the thing idk i forgot the plot

[yrwestillhere]

These official succ posters...

[lotties-ashwagandha]

THE NECESSITY OF BROOMSTICKS

rio vidal x reader, 938 words

you compromise on halloween decorations with your witch girlfriend. silly stupid halloween fluff w no depth just witches because WHERE are the fluff fics for agatha all along.

Rio looks at the sign with distaste. “What the fuck is witches’ brew?”

You look at the sign you’re hanging in the kitchen, Fresh Witches’ Brew, and smile. It’s decorative, you bought it while you were out today, one of the many Halloween decorations you found to put around the house. “It’s… you know. Potions. Spells. Cauldrons.”

She tilts her head. “No one uses cauldrons anymore.”

You roll your eyes, stepping back from the sign. It matches well with your home, it adds a playful touch you suspect you need in sharing a home with Death. Rio is obviously displeased, though, standing with her arms crossed as she glares up at your decor. She’s always hated the way witches are portrayed in the media this time of year — pointy hats and bubbling cauldrons and, as you love to point out, riding on brooms.

‘I rode on a broom once,’ she reminded you furiously the other day when you had brought home a new throw pillow with a stereotypical green witch with her pointy hat riding on a broom. ‘It was necessity.’

“I bought something else,” you tell her and reach for your bag of decor. She puts on an uninterested expression, but cranes her neck to look over into your bag. This time, you pull out new coffee mugs. Hocus Pocus, they read, in giant orange lettering. You hand Rio one of the mugs.

“Oh,” she looks down at the mug and then up at you — it’s on the tip of her tongue, a remark about how witches aren’t like Hocus Pocus movie witches, but instead she places it on the kitchen counter and with an obligatory smile she thanks you. She gravitates close to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and watching intently as you sort through the rest of your decor.

“I think I’ll go out today and get some decorations, too,” Rio announces and presses a quick kiss to your cheek — you expect to see a black lipstick stain when you next glance in the mirror. She stands up a little straighter, watching you with unwavering resolve. It sounds unnatural and dry when she says, “You’ve put me in the Halloween spirit.”

You nod, though you’re a bit hesitant. She hardly celebrates Halloween like you do — she’s more ancient than your commercialized celebrations, she views them as silly and meaningless compared to those of past centuries. It’s a night that was once viewed with much more reverence, a night that was respected with the severity it demands. Nonetheless, you’re curious as to what she will come up with to use for decorations — it’s hard to envision her trekking through the store for a scarecrow fit for the front porch.

•••

As you are putting up the last of your decorations, Rio comes in through the front door. She hauls something behind her, dragging it in through the door and propping it up on the couch: a life-sized plastic skeleton. Her gaze flits between you and it as she interprets your reaction, and you see the sense of achievement she holds.

“He was on sale,” Rio says, “so I got him some friends. They’re out on the patio sitting around that big cauldron you bought. I covered them in fake blood and drove one of my knives through one of their rib cages.”

Though inanimate, the look the skeleton on your couch wears on its bony face reflects Rio’s excitement. It’s charming, and you can only imagine the way the others she bought look sitting around your witches’ cauldron out on the patio. The vision has a smile pulling at you, and Rio’s pride in her purchases only seems to grow.

“I love him,” you nod to the skeleton on the couch. “Are you going to put him with the others?”

“No,” she digs around in a bag she brought in and pulls out a horror clown mask. “He gets to be a dead clown. You get your witch hats, I get my dead things.”

It’s a compromise you are willing to settle on for her. You know your days of traveling through the house at night for a glass of water have been ripped away until the skeleton is stored for next Halloween, but it’s a fair exchange if it means Rio will be more content in the face of your stereotyped witch decorations.

Rio slips the clown mask onto the skeleton and steps back to examine her work. She pulls out a dagger she keeps on her — you’ve told her that it is unnecessary to carry around knives constantly, but she never listens — and hands it to you. She nods to the skeleton. “Do the honors?”

“What, incriminate myself with clown murder?”

Rio nods enthusiastically. You approach the skeleton, and in a swift motion you drive the dagger into his chest.

“Beautiful,” Rio takes your hand when you come back to stand at her side. She pulls you close, and she leans in to kiss you before she stops and pulls away.

“What are you doing?” You ask, but Rio doesn’t respond, just disappears into the kitchen. “Rio?”

When she comes back, she holds your Witches’ Brew sign. She places it beside the skeleton and together you view the new addition to your seasonal decor.

“There,” Rio says. “Now it’s how it should be.”

A dead murderous clown selling witches’ brew on your couch — an addition to your household that you never would have suspected necessary, but one that makes your fall celebrations feel complete. Now Rio kisses you, peppering your face in more black lipstick stains, love outstanding the transience of autumn.

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve was a late bloomer. He didn't expect to present as an omega right after seeing a bloody Eddie Munson into the ER.

His biological changes weren't a problem at first. He found his perky tits and even newly-slit cunt easily acceptable. They just felt right on his body.

His peace only lasted until he visited Eddie in the hospital and slicked his underwear beyond repair.

It was embarrassing and also pathetic because he was quite certain Eddie didn't want him that way.

He knew the alpha just flirted with him for fun like everyone else.

To fix it, Steve began wearing scent blockers religiously, dressing in more layers, and using pads to keep his slick from leaking out and ruining the sterilized air.

So far, it was a success. No one batted an eye when he got a little wet whenever he sat beside Eddie's bed.

Even Robin—his platonic soulmate who had always been in tuned with him—didn't pick up his inappropriate behavior.

As for Eddie, the alpha just became friendlier with him; kissing his hands, giving him more flatteries, hugging him tighter and longer than the others, etc.

Though Steve was flustered by the new development, he reminded himself that it likely meant nothing to Eddie.

Still, he couldn't stop finding excuses to see Eddie nearly every day.

Eventually, Eddie was discharged, went through every PT session with admirable strength and determination, and recovered beautifully.

They held a party to celebrate it and Steve was rosy cheeked with joy when Eddie stuck by his side the whole time. And even followed him everywhere like a lost puppy.

It was cute.

Even though Robin kept saying otherwise.

Eddie seemed to decide they were best friends now. Because wherever Steve went, the alpha would be right beside him.

Steve didn't find it as annoying as he had thought. Since Robin and Vickie were in their moonstruck phase, she couldn't spend as much time with him anymore.

He was happy for her, but it was also kinda lonely. A problem that Eddie's constant presence had quickly resolved.

They would hang out and do everything together; cooking, doing chores, listening to the music, watching movies, getting high, and even sleeping.

It wasn't right for an unmated omega to get so close to an unmated alpha, but their bond ran deeper than their carnal instincts. A few cuddles wouldn't hurt their friendship.

Or so Steve told himself.

Because he had to change his panties at least thrice a night before going to bed to not disturb his friend with his situation.

"Where are you goin'?" Eddie muttered sleepily just as Steve tried to get out the alpha's arms.

On the other hand, his body had been acting weird lately. Producing more slick than usual and becoming more sensitive.

It might be his fault for letting Eddie into his nest all the time, but it wasn't like he could help it, either.

Jesus. Even Eddie's raspy voice already made his cunt pulse with want.

Steve felt thankful that he didn't give up his scent blockers. Otherwise, he'd no doubt smell like a bitch in heat right now.

"Nature's call," Steve mumbled, frowning slightly when Eddie's hold just got tighter around him and the musky scent grew thicker.

"'S your slick, isn't it?" Hot lips pressed to his ear, making him stop cold. "Yeah, I can smell it. Been wanting to taste how sweet you are, omega."

Steve gulped dryly, his brain turned hazier and hazier with lust. And yet...

"W– Why didn't you say anything?"

"And chased you off?" Eddie chuckled and squeezed a hand between his thighs, feeling his wetness and scratching his clit lightly through the cotton. "No way, baby."

Steve closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath, choking on the scent of a very aroused and virile alpha.

He didn't know why his blockers didn't work, but the heat of Eddie's palm on his clothed cunt was distracting enough that he just stopped questioning it altogether.

"Be gentle with me," he craned his neck to meet those dark wild eyes.

"You got it, angel," Eddie rolled him on his back and kissed him sweetly. "Gonna worship your pretty cunt for the rest of my life."

And Eddie did.

Eating him out every given chance and everywhere; on the bed, in the kitchen, in the back of the van, on the couch, in the shower.

And when Steve's heat arrived a few days later, Eddie had happily stayed up all night just to suffocate in the sea of slick before knotting him over and over again in the morning.

Which, consequently, triggered the alpha's rut and led to Steve being kept in bed for another week.

And by the end of it all, he was thoroughly bred and ravaged.

Eventually, Steve figured it out once they became mates. His blockers still worked just fine.

Eddie was the problem.

He was a horn dog who had sniffed out Steve's slick and got addicted to it.

But fortunately, Eddie had agreed to make do with his used panties whenever Steve was too sore to let him near his cunt.

The only problem was that Steve now had to guard his favorite pairs very closely.

[acrowandtheirshinies]

HSR + Genshin In - Date Ideas!

[ Including - Wanderer, Tighnari, Venti, Albedo, Boothill, Jing Yuan, Dan Heng ]

AU - Modern AU

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

Tighnari -

Botanical Dates where he gets to hold your hand while yall walk through the gardens where a lot of plants grow with a lot of care, he takes some time to ramble about them to you during the walks.

He loves it when you're both just relaxing, maybe grabbing a snack or a drink and then going on to continue the walk to take a chance to relax during this entire date.

Sometimes he'll call to check in on Collei during the date but he likes to take pictures of you during the date to make into Polaroid pictures to hang up on the fridge or in a scrapbook to show on your wedding night :]

Venti -

Date nights to him are either both if you stay at home and order take out while watching a movie and getting mildly drunk or it's a walk in a park with a nice breeze

Either way there's a lot of memories to be made along the way! Sometimes some pictures are being taken and poses with the statues in the park but it's still a good time all around though

Movie nights are his favorite because usually it means you fall asleep on his shoulder or laying beside him on the couch so he can tuck you in with a blanket and call it a night, and honestly he values that the most. Just a night with you and him in the warmth of a home

Wanderer / Scaramouche -

Good luck getting him out on a date honestly but at the end of the day he can't ever say no to you, so you go out to the arcade for the preferred date place

He finds amusement in you losing to crane games, saying you need to get better at them if you want to ever win something at these events but once you leave the area then he does his hardest to win a prize for you

He acts so smug about it too but also you just know he's flustered too so you just accept the prizes and prepare to play more games, so in your eyes it's a date well spent with your partner

Albedo -

Museum dates for him, he loves guiding you through the halls and pointing out the little things in art and science while you both are walking through the halls honestly. It makes him so happy to see you're paying attention to him

You stop for a snack and you see him taking a picture of you for a reference for painting later to relax, he likes seeing you surprised honestly at the end of the day because he thinks you look perfect naturally

A lot more pictures gets taken but it's by you while the two of you are going through the museum sections, pictures of Albedo looking up at works of art and others things- you want to save them for a scrapbook

Boothill -

This man loves the markets and you cannot tell me otherwise, the stockyard markets are his favorite place to take you out on a date and to find little knick knacks to decorate the house with

He gets you you're own cowboy hat along the way and you get him a new scarf because the one he has now is old and needs to be washed desperately, and he wears it because it's a gift from you

You both take a picture at the end of the day to hang on the fridge though, right alongside other pictures of dates to the movies and to the ranch to visit the horses and animals

Dan Heng -

He loves taking you out to the park for dates, it's so peaceful there and he loves walking down the paths with you with a lil picnic basket being carried by you. It's a favorite for both of you because it's peaceful and a lil secluded so no interruptions by Dan Hengs found family and friends

Fall time especially means a lot to him for dates, it also gives him a chance to offer you his jacket if it gets chilly at times and the colors remind him of you- warm and comfortable.

He takes a picture of you walking down the paths with leaves falling because he wants to make it his wallpaper, a reminder of this time he has with you because it means the world to him

Jing Yuan -

Any place with you is a date to him as long as it's with you, so he let's you decide where you go because he knows he has the money to support whatever you choose to do

Movies? Whatever you want to go see. The park? Of course anything for you. The theatre? Absolutely he would love to go watch a show with you

But honestly his favorite has to be staying at home to watch a show and order food for you both and the lion he takes care of, it makes him feel content knowing you and him are well and safe inside the house you both made for each other. During the show he'd probably fall asleep on you, and then you both wake up like that- just sprawled on the couch with a warm blanket on both of you

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Gladiator II - Thoughts (SPOILERS)

I was fortunate enough to watch Gladiator II at the Royal Global premiere at Leicester Square last night (Wednesday 13th November) and I NEED to share some thoughts but there are definitely some spoilers, so…

I cannot stress this enough:

THERE ❗️ ARE ❗️ SPOILERS ❗️ BELOW ❗️ THE ❗️ CUT ❗️

Once again

⚠️ DO NOT CLICK THE READ MORE IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS FOR GLADIATOR II ⚠️

There’s probably things I’m missing/forgetting right off the top of my head, and I might be paraphrasing/summarising some dialogue. I definitely need to rewatch it when I’m NOT super close to an IMAX cinema screen because I spent the whole movie with my neck craned backwards and my eyes darting everywhere because I was trying to take it all in.

Anyway, without further ado:

The opening credits were very beautiful, it recounted the plot of the original film but kind of like in the style of the opening credits of Pillars of the Earth? I don’t know if that makes sense 😭

If I remember correctly, Joseph is billed third behind Paul and Pedro, and Fred is billed fourth 🥹♥️

The film opens with a huge battle where the Roman army, led by Marcus Acacius, conquering the last free city of Africa (I think?), which is what Lucius and his wife are trying to defend

I cannot for the life of me remember what Lucius’ wife was called but she seemed nice, we only had her for a few minutes though before she got killed 😭

Okay so I’m going to start right off the bat by talking about the Emperors as they were the ones I was most looking forward to seeing, and I want to give them their own section!

We NEED to talk about Fred as Caracalla - this isn’t even me being biased, I’m being as unbiased as I can when I say that he was AMAZING

By the way, for months I’ve seen people talk shit about Fred, complaining about how they wish it was Barry Keoghan, whinging because “we could have had Joe and Barry” - to those people I say, shut the fuck up ☺️ I will NOT tolerate any hate for my boy Fred!

Fred actually had a much meatier part than Joe which was pleasantly surprising. I’m not saying Joe wasn’t unhinged or good, but he was way more sane than Fred’s character and you got the feeling that he was trying to hold their rule together and keep his brother from bringing down the whole empire

Caracalla surprised me because he was so much more softly spoken than I anticipated; in so many scenes he was childlike and almost pitiful to watch. For example, there were times where you could see him pouting or fidgeting like a bored toddler, at one point he essentially threw a tantrum and Geta had to hold him back from killing Acacius and Lucilla (and then in the background you could see him playfully swing the sword about like a child would with a toy) He would grin and get excited like a child whenever there was fighting or bloodshed, bouncing in his seat, he looked surprised and excited in the beginning when Geta handed him wine etc.

In the last coliseum fight scene, this was literally Caracalla getting excited when the fighting started - a literal child 😭

Honestly it was just fascinating to watch Caracalla because you could never tell if he was going to be childlike and almost-innocent or if he was going to start screaming and get violent

So apparently the reason that Caracalla is unhinged is because (to quote Geta) “the disease from his loins has spread to his head” (to paraphrase) which makes me think he’s got syphilis or something.

Also both of the emperors are briefly seen with concubines (as in the trailer), and Caracalla has both male and female ones hanging around him 😭 we love a bisexual Emperor!

Caracalla seems to have memory problems (probably as a result of his STI) because he doesn’t remember seeing Lucius fighting in front of them from just a couple of days ago at their party (the scene with the concubines) and Geta tries to remind him, “it’s the poet” but Caracalla just sits down and says he doesn’t remember

There’s a scene where Marcus and Lucilla are brought to the emperors in the middle of the night after being caught in a conspiracy to overthrow them, and you’ve got Geta in that red robe from the trailer whilst Caracalla is basically just wearing a fucking bedsheet toga style 😭 you know that shot in White Lotus where Fred/Quinn has a duvet around himself? Kind of like that

Contrary to that Letterboxd review calling the twins “BJ brothers”, there is NO incest in this film, and no hint of incest between the twins. I know a screenshot is circulating of Joe in the red robe where you could see what looked like the top/side of Fred’s head as if he’s on his knees, but they were absolutely NOT doing that 💀 the scene shows them both entering the room (Geta in his robe, hastily put on) and Fred in his bedsheet toga thing. I definitely didn’t get the vibe of incest at all, I got the vibe of “it’s the middle of the night and they’ve both been woken up because these two traitors (Marcus and Lucilla) were caught plotting against them”

I love that Caracalla’s weakness is Dondas (or Dundas? Different magazines are using different names so I’m so confused), his pet monkey (WE FUCKING LOVE CHERRY AND SO DOES FRED 😭♥️) Like he’s got Dondas/Dundas wearing a fucking dress and on a little chain lead, eating sweets from a bowl, and I have to applaud Fred for being able to act with a straight face while he had the monkey crawling over his shoulders, touching his hair, and at one point when the monkey moved the chain lead literally went right around/over his face

While there’s riots going on outside the palace, Caracalla is freaking out and has Dondas/Dundas the monkey on his shoulder, and Geta straight up threw wine at both of them before saying that maybe Dondas (or Dundas, whatever the fucking name is) go and calm down in another room 💀

There’s a scene where Macrinus finds Caracalla hiding under a table with the monkey and it made me think they were almost playing hide and seek 😭 truthfully I think he was just under there crying and hiding

It’s the fact that Macrinus was able to manipulate Caracalla into killing Geta by using his love of Dondas/Dundas against him; the people of Rome protest against their emperors, and Macrinus basically tells Caracalla that Geta is going to throw him to the plebs outside to be killed - and Dondas/Dundas. “Think about what they might do to Dondas” (or Dundas) - and that’s what pushes him over the edge.

NOT CARACALLA AND MACRINUS SAWING GETA’S FUCKING HEAD OFF LIKE THAT 😭 IT WAS STRAIGHT UP LIKE A HORROR FILM WITH MACRINUS COMING UP BEHIND CARACALLA AND HELPING?!?

Also Caracalla made the monkey a fucking consul of state (I think) after he killed Geta?!?! 😭 Absolutely fucking UNHINGED I TELL YOU

“ALL HAIL DONDAS! 😃” (or Dundas - again, someone please tell me the fucking monkey’s confirmed name)

They showed Geta’s head for WAY too long 😭 and Macrinus just showing it around like that?!? NASTY

Reeling over the fact they airbrushed out Geta’s head for the trailer because in this shot in the film Geta’s head is clearly visible on the table behind Denzel 💀

Sorry but Fred looked damn fine in that purple outfit near the end 😋

I feel like Caracalla had a little bit of a soft spot for Lucilla but the two sides of his personality were warring with each other: the sadistic bloodthirsty side wanted to murder both her and Marcus right away, but then near the end he whispers to Macrinus “must we kill Lucilla?” and he sounded a little hesitant or unsure which was interesting

Seeing Fred as Caracalla without Geta in that last coliseum battle scene? I can’t help but love him, Fred is seriously too good in this role. The shouting, the childlike excitement when the fighting started (see gif above)

Fred was definitely playing up the childlike side of Caracalla in his last scene when the people started revolting, he was literally curling up in his seat, snivelling and crying like a baby until Macrinus killed him from behind (he put something in his ear, i think he stuck a pin in his ear to impale his brain?) Truly pitiful end for Caracalla.

Once again: Fred Hechinger for Best Supporting Actor at the 97th Academy Awards campaign!! 😊↕️

Okay so now I’ve talked about the Emperors, I can talk about the rest of the film:

Ridley Scott truly said fuck historical accuracy in this film 😭 which is not surprising to be fair if you know him and his movies

This film was, expectedly, VERY bloody and violent from start to finish

NOT LUCIUS TAKING A BITE OUT OF THE BABOON 🤯

At one point where they’re bringing the slaves into Rome, they show statues of a wolf feeding two human children from her teat and Lucius recounts the story - this is obviously a reference to Romulus and Remus, twins raised by a wolf mother. This is actually really fitting because from earth on, Ridley AND Fred and Joe have mentioned the idea of the twins being based on this Romulus/Remus story?

DAMN, Paul Mescal was super beefy in this film like holy fucking shit dude

Honestly I adore Pedro but his role was way smaller than I thought it would be. His role is essentially to be Lucilla’s decent and loyal husband who also happened to lead the invasion that killed Lucius’ wife in the beginning of the film, something he did not want to do, hence why Lucius wants to kill him so badly (family drama, eh? 😭) and who is part of a plot to dethrone the twins

MATT LUCAS AS THE MASTER OF CEREMONIES?!? 😭 I won’t lie, at first it distracted me because I was like “why the fuck is Matt Lucas here” but he got a few laughs out of the cinema screening so his tiny parts added a little bit of humour to the film when it got tense

As I said above, there’s no incest shown - there is a MENTION, however, of a rumour that Lucius’ real father wasn’t Lucius Verus(?) but rather Commodus (obviously Lucilla’s brother/Lucius’ uncle from the first film). However, it’s not true because they make it very clear that Lucius’ father is Maximus. They do however briefly mention that Lucilla was a child bride at the age of 14 which is a bit fucked up

I was probably the only person in my screening who noticed this but at one point I saw graffiti on one of the walls on the outside/entrance to the coliseum that said something like “Irrumbo Imperators” - according to Google, that translates as “I attack the emperors”. However, it could have also been “Irrumabo Imperatores”, and if you ask Google to give you the Latin word for “fuck”? It’s “Irrumabo”. So essentially there was graffiti in the film that either said “attack the emperors” or “fuck the emperors” 💀

I thought that maybe Lucius had somehow forgotten that Lucilla was his mother despite being 12 when she sent him away but nope, he’s fully aware of who he actually is and who his mother is, he’s just angry at her for sending him away and never seeing him again 😭

NOT THAT SERVANT TATTLING ON LUCILLA AND MARCUS?!? 😤

They killed Marcus off WAY earlier than I thought they would by the way. The trailers give the impression that the final battle is Lucius vs Marcus but it’s actually Lucius vs Macrinus which is WILD to me

You know that scene in LOTR where the orcs shoot Boromir full of arrows? That is basically what happened in this film to General Acacius but with about 20 more arrows 💀 I had major Boromir flashbacks watching this scene

I’m glad that Lucilla and Lucius got to reconcile before the ending, given what ended up happening

“Because Emperor Caracalla is generous, he will allow Lucilla to have one Gladiator to fight to defend her” - ONE. ONE AGAINST ABOUT 30 TRAINED GUARDS 💀

I’m still reeling over the fact Derek Jacobi spoiled his own character’s death on the red carpet a mere hour before the film screening in front of THOUSANDS of people 😭 that man did NOT give a fuck quite frankly and I think that’s kind of hilarious of him

THE GASP THAT EVERYONE IN THE SCREENING COLLECTIVELY LET OUT WHEN MACRINUS KILLED LUCILLA BY SHOOTING HER IN THE CHEST?!? HE KILLED CARACALLA AND LUCILLA IN 60 SECONDS FLAT 😭

That said, this shot from the behind the scenes featurette about Ridley Scott is ten times funnier to me after watching the film and realising that not only is Ridley showing Denzel how to shoot the arrow that kills Lucilla, but Fred is also supposed to be dead in the chair at this point since Macrinus takes the bow and fires the arrow straight after killing Caracalla 😭

Poor Lucius has now seen his father, his mother, his uncle and his wife all die right in front of him, the man CANNOT catch a break 😫

That final battle between Lucius and Macrinus was GRUESOME 😳 Lucius cut off his hand and slashed him - I’m not sure if he actually cut him in half or if Macrinus just crumpled in the river in a heap but DAMN

This film used footage from the first Gladiator film so they gave the actor who played Lucius in the first film a credit which was nice!

That said, I know obviously it’s been 24 years since the original film so of course the child actor from the original is no longer 12 and so could not be in the flashback scenes showing young Lucius, but damn the difference was a little jarring to be honest, especially when it went from footage of the original film to new footage with the new child actor

Ridley Scott spoiled the ending of this fucking movie by saying he wanted to have Paul back to play Lucius again as the main character in Gladiator III 💀 so yeah, I already knew Lucius was surviving this film

Some final summary thoughts:

Let’s be honest, it would be impossible to top the first Gladiator and so while I loved Gladiator II and think it was amazing, it was obviously never going to quite reach the same level as the original

I know I just made the comment about nominating Fred for Best Supporting Actor but I have to be honest, I truly think Denzel deserves the nomination - if there’s only one actor from this film who gets that nomination, it has to be Denzel because he was by far the standout of the whole film. If I had to rank it personally I’d say Denzel and then Fred is a close second, then maybe Joseph and Pedro?

^ This isn’t me saying Joe and Pedro were bad at all, they were all really amazing, but this film just had so many characters and quite frankly Fred, Joe and Pedro had WAY less screentime than Denzel so they didn’t have nearly as much to work with as he did.

Again; I’m biased because I went in the most excited to see the Emperors, but I wish we’d had more of Caracalla and Geta. Fred and Joe did their best to work with what they were given, but they didn’t have that much and pretty much all of their scenes were shown in trailers or TV spots etc.

GIVE CHERRY THE MONKEY A FUCKING OSCAR

I obviously wasn’t expecting Paul Mescal to fight real baboons, rhinos and sharks but the CGI was… not great. It was quite obvious that it was CGI for the baboons and sharks, I think the rhino was slightly better though (Fred mentioned in an interview his first day involved “the mechanical rhino” so it was somewhat partly practical as well I suppose)

The pacing of this film was a little all over the place, if I’m being honest. I want to rewatch soon, from further back in the screen because, as I said, I was craning my head back the whole time and it ended up giving me a neck and headache so that probably added to me being uncomfortable (plus I’d had a long day and was thoroughly burned out by the time the screening started), but there were times where I was like “oh… we’re back here then 😐”

^ What I’m trying to say is that some of the storylines happened so fast and had very little build up (eg. The emperors in general) whilst other plots were so slow burn in comparison.

The music was so good! I know people are going to compare it unfavourable to Hans Zimmer’s original score from the first film, but I LOVE Harry Gregson-Williams (he did the soundtrack for the first two Narnia films so I’m biased 😅) and I thought he did a great job with the score here. The fact he had Hans Zimmer’s approval and praise made me confident the score would be great anyway

I feel like people are obviously going to compare Paul Mescal to Russell Crowe which… let’s be honest, has gotta suck for him because how the fuck do you live up to Russell Crowe?!? Some people have already said that they didn’t like Paul in this film, which… okay, fair enough. I honestly don’t think comparing him to Russell Crowe does him any favours. I enjoyed watching him personally, and I think given that this whole film rests on him, he did great. Not quite Russell Crowe but I have no complaints about his performance personally.

People are also going to compare Joe and Fred to Joaquin Phoenix’s Commodus, and I think they both did a great job given that they didn’t actually have nearly as much screen-time as Joaquin did in the original film. It’s almost unfair to compare them because in the first Gladiator, Commodus was the main antagonist - in this film, Macrinus is the main antagonist overall whilst the Emperors are more secondary antagonists that serve as obstacles for Macrinus’ rise to power. But they both did great with what they had.

Overall, my opinion of the film?

This film NEEDS to be seen on a big screen at the cinema! Go and watch it!

[ddejavvu]

Hi, saw you said stranger things requests and I have one !! Steve and reader going to a party, and he accidentally spills his drink on her short and he panics because he thinks of what happened with Nancy and reader ends up having to comfort him with vodka all over her shirt :,) thank you

From the minute the bronze liquid comes in contact with your cream top, Steve's already reacting strangely. It's like a live wire stabbed through the base of his spine, shooting heated sparks towards his shoulders that tense.

"Hey, I- I'm sorry," He stammers, trying to set the now half-empty cup onto the counter. It doesn't work, and the cup falls to the ground, splashing this time over your feet. You take a hasty step back, and Steve's hands reach out to catch you with too strong of a grip.

"No, don't- I'm sorry," One glance into his eyes and they're alive with the same fever that's tripping up his words, "I'm sorry, don't go, please. Just- just come into the kitchen, please?"

"It's sticky here," You raise and lower your foot a few times, music not helping you assess the situation as it booms in your ears, "Steve, you're-" You grimace at the tight hold of his large hands, "You're squeezing a bit, Steve, let me go."

You try to pull away from him, but that only makes it worse. He holds tighter, pulls harder, and you have to grab his own arm to maneuver him a different way around the island.

"Okay- okay! Just- come this way, god," You hiss, "Steve, 's starting to hurt."

Then you're the only one holding up the embrace; he's dropped you like you're on fire. You don't have time to ponder why, you just keep dragging him through the sea of partygoers and into the semi-isolated kitchen.

"'Kay, can you get some paper towels?" You turn on the faucet, water running cold as you assess the damage to your shirt. When no reply comes, you turn back to Steve, finding him lingering right where you'd left him, his face pale.

"Steve? The paper towels?" You try again, to no avail.

"Steve," You shut off the faucet, feeling liquor slosh through your socks as you step over to him, "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry. For- ruining your shirt, and squeezing.. too tight."

"It's okay," You hum cautiously, "I can wash it. And it's not like you bruised me. Paper towels?"

"I didn't mean to." He promises, his big brown eyes still blown wide open, "I really didn't. And I can pay for the- for the shirt, like- dry cleaning. I promise. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," You promise, "Steve, it's just a shirt. It's okay, I just need paper towels."

Your prolonged reassurances seem to set him straight, and he looks like a robot rebooting. His eyes flash with something unreadable and he snaps to attention, stumbling backwards and trying to maneuver the unfamiliar kitchen.

"Right. Right, uh- paper towels. They're- here!"

He brandishes the roll towards you almost aggressively, and you wet three beneath the water you've turned back on. He takes the wad from your hand before you can apply it to your stained shirt, dabbing gently at the remains of his solo cup.

"Sorry," He breathes, tongue poking out from between his lips as he focuses on rubbing the stain away.

"It's okay." You remind him, craning your neck up to kiss at his chin. He still looks pale, like he's recovering from a brush with death, but at the feeling of your lips against his chin he looks up at you, and the corners of his lips quirk up into a weak smile.

"It's- uh, not coming out." He murmurs, "I'll have it dry-cleaned, um, tomorrow, I'll take it, and-"

"Okay. We'll figure something out." You keep your voice soothing, although you don't know why you need to, "It's okay, Steve. Hey, do you wanna just go home? We could do a movie night instead - get away from the noise and the people, and I could change my clothes."

"Yeah," He flounders slightly, hand still working to scrub the alcohol off of your shirt, "Yeah, uh- where...?"

"Your place," You decide, "If you don't mind me wearing your shirt?"

His eyes shine now, and his smile seems less rickety, "Yeah. No! No- I don't mind it. My place, and- and my shirt."

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... | Dr. Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary| She's the detective assigned to investigate one of Gotham's top villains, Falcone, but as she follows her leads, she uncovers a new suspect: Dr. Jonathan Crane. His charisma and good looks won't stand in the way of justice, or at least that's what she thinks.

Warnings| Mentions of self-harm in the beginning in accordance to the movie (Batman Begins 2005). Not explicitly discussed but implied sexist and misogynistic work environment. Some archaic language when discussing psychiatric hospitals bc I tried to follow the language that the movie used. Violence with needles, drugging someone. Gun is mentioned but not used. Knife is mentioned a lot but never used to inflict pain. Smut, dubious consent, unprotected sex, restraints.

word count: 6757k (long-ass story bc I didn't want to make separate posts)

Song for a Guilty Sadist- Crywank 🎶

Butch 4 Butch- Rio Romeo 🎵

IFHY (feat. Pharrell)- Tyler, The Creator 🎶

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks <3

i 

She had been following him for weeks, stealing into the shadows at every turn as Jonathan Crane walked through Gotham City’s Police Station. She’d been suspicious of him for months and with the men in the police force finally working up the nerve to investigate Gothem’s leading henchman, Falcone, she’d uncovered a theory that pointed simultaneously at the notorious psychiatrist. Of course, the men in her force had refused to believe her, reminding her of Crane’s long history with the department and work to establish Gothem’s Psychiatric Hospital for the Criminally Insane: Arkham Asylum. But the real reason why Crane had never been investigated was because of his status in the department of justice, and it didn’t hurt that the man was charismatic. He knew how to work the system to get what he wanted. 

Jonathan Crane had a reputation of declaring criminals insane after mere minutes of deliberation, especially those who happened to work with or for Falcone. She’d been in charge of carrying out Falcone’s case and taking him to trial as a detective for the prosecution. After being put in jail, Falcone had managed to slash his wrists just enough to draw attention and a little bit of blood. He was immediately flagged for psychiatric evaluation, bringing Jonathan Crane once again into the basement interrogation rooms to administer an interview. When he clamored down the steps onto the basement floor, she was waiting for him by the door into Falcone’s interrogation room.  

“Dr. Crane,” she greeted him with a smile, drawing every ounce of her long lost theater-kid days into play. 

“Miss —,” he remembered her name and shook her hand with a serious glint in his blue eyes, covered by harsh rectangular glasses. His handshake was firm and strong, and he made eye contact that still shook her even after speaking with him so many times before. She didn’t let it show, however, and nodded towards the door. 

“He cut his wrists last night during the changing of the guard but we don’t know how he even got access to the weapon that he used; and I’ve spoken with him numerous time since we processed him and he’s never given me any reason to suspect that he was mentally unstable, but of course, you are the professional. It’s better that he be evaluated anyway-”

“In case anything were to happen,” he finished for me and clenched his jaw. He gave a curt nod of his head and went inside, shutting the door behind him and drawing the blinds on the door closed. She scoffed quietly beneath her breath and clenched her fists. Don’t be fooled by his good looks or superior smile, she told herself, Jonathan Crane was capable of things that she didn’t know of yet. He was not someone to admire, he was someone to distrust. 

After only ten minutes of quiet murmuring, she could hear clear and blood curdling screams through the door. She knocked on the door, “Dr. Crane?” She called through the door but it opened in her face before she could do anything. He stood in the doorway, his dark hair falling into his pale, angular face. 

“He’s definitely what I would classify as mentally unstable,” he chuckled calmly as he side-stepped her and closed the door. He ran a hand through his hair and fixed the glasses perched on his nose. “I can’t treat him here, I’ll need to move him to Arkham.” 

“Are you sure?” She asked, more surprised than anything. He had started to walk down the hallway to the stairs when he turned around, stopping right in front of her face, his breath fanned across her face. 

“Are you questioning my diagnosis, detective?” He smirked, an underlying tone of warning below his wide-lipped smile. His blue eyes were unwavering as he studied her face, she swallowed to steady herself. 

“No, sir. Of course not.” She apologized and crossed her arms across her chest, ducking her head nervously. When she looked back up, his eyebrow was cocked. 

“Do I make you nervous, detective?” He smiled and she could tell he was setting a trap, attempting to make himself more likable, more trusting. As if he could be anything of the sort. She laughed lightly and met his eyes, holding his eye-contact defiantly. 

“No, sir.” She answered and he nodded. 

“Good day, Miss —.” He called with his back turned, walking to the stairs and climbing them quickly. She watched him leave and finally released a sigh of relief. There was something about him that unsettled her, but it was something that also attracted her with a devious strength, ripping factual and independent reasoning from her head. 

She had started following him when one of Falcone’s men had been moved to Arkham two weeks before. She switched her assignment for the day to escort the man to Arkham, getting a chance to see the asylum for herself. It was a large gothic building with a modern facade in the center of Gotham. The attendants at the door led the prisoner (or patient now) through the heavily guarded door into the hospital’s main ward that was closed to visitors. Even police or other officials had to obtain a special license that granted them clearance into the institution. The second time she’d stepped inside, she was following a few yards behind Crane, studying how he actually entered the building. They had a separate entrance for the asylum’s psychiatrists at the side of the building by the alley. She waited a few minutes for Crane to enter the building before she approached the guard stationed at the door and flashed her badge. He’d allowed her in but warned that he’d lose his job if he did it again. The next time she followed him, she would need a new method of entering the building, one that didn’t alert Crane that she was in the building in case he got suspicious. When she entered it was easier to blend in so she followed the maze of hallways until she reached a small hub with arrows guiding attendants to the different wards of the hospital. Dr. Crane’s office was included in the psychiatrist ward (funny they had their own ward). 

The psychiatrists each had their own labs, whether or not they used them was their own business, but she knew for sure that Crane used his but for what, she didn’t know. Walking down the hallway to his office, she peeked inside the wide panel of glass into his lab. He had one assistant who was copying his notes into a binder for Crane but quickly left when Crane shooed him away from the set of beakers and vials of powders he was working with. She flattened herself against the wall and pretended to answer a call on her phone as the assistant passed her in the hallway. She hurried to leave the institute, leaving through the same door she entered, thanking the security guard discreetly. 

This time as she watched Crane climb the stairs, she pulled aside a police officer and explained Falcone’s transfer. The officer nodded and left to initiate the transfer to Arkham, Falcone’s hysterical screams still audible through the thick steel door. Crane tugged at the starched collar of his shirt as he crossed the lobby of the police station, sighing in relief. Falcone had tried to corner him. Him! Falcone may have been powerful but he was stupid and Crane didn’t have patience for stupidity especially from someone who was supposed to be a criminal mastermind. News flash: he wasn’t. Falcone was sloppy and arrogant, he didn’t take his own threats seriously. He’d threatened to tell the police about Crane’s experimental drug concoctions but in reality, he still didn’t know the full extent of what Crane was planning to do to Gotham. 

“You don’t know anything,” Crane said pointedly, tired of Falcone’s attitude. 

“I know that half of the drugs we moved belong to you and the police still don’t know what they are or what they can do.” Falcone scratched his greasy nose. Crane almost laughed. He removed his glasses and sighed, reaching into his open briefcase. 

As soon as the words, “would you like to see my mask,” left his mouth, Falcone was done for. The only thing that had inspired a shred of panic for Crane was hearing the girl’s voice through the steel door, calling his name. He expected her to open the door and see his mask, and while he had an explanation that a normal officer would believe, he knew that she was different. He didn’t trust her but something about her made him laugh. She was good looking and smart but too invested in his work and he didn’t like that. He’d have to keep an eye on the young detective, Miss —. In fact, he’d like to strap her down… hide her away in his asylum and play with her head like he did with his other playthings - - - oops - - - patients. Same thing.

ii 

She pretended that her plan was straightforward, it was the only way that she could convince herself to go through with it. No one else in her department would have had the balls to sneak into the asylum where once you went in, you may not be able to leave, that is- if Dr. Crane diagnosed you accordingly. She left a note on her desk in her office, explaining where she was going and the evidence she had already collected. Photos, “destroyed” medical records, and recent missing shipments from cargo ships including one micro-wave machine meant for warfare. She made copies of everything and hid them away in a special box directed to the only person she really trusted in her department, Sgt. Gordon. Even if someone dumped the notes on her desk, Sgt. Gordon would find the box of evidence, she knew. Falcone had been transferred the day before and was nearing his second night in the institution, now was her time to investigate what he was planning to do to him and why. 

She stashed a small knife at her thigh, having learned that a woman had to carry multiple weapons in this city if she wanted to protect herself, which unfortunately, happened often. She checked her weapon and put it in her holster at the small of her back. She was wearing a gray quarter length top tucked into a black skirt. She pulled on her straight black leather coat and closed the door to her office, locking the door. She knew that Crane would be in his office, he almost never went home, and with Falcone there and at risk to disclose sensitive information, he would be sure to stay close by. 

The sun had already set hours before when she approached Arkham Asylum. Each window was bright with light but it didn’t make the building any more welcoming. She shivered as she approached the side door, seeing a different security guard at the door. He stood when she approached, not recognizing her.  

“Stand down, officer. I’m detective — on police business,” she showed him her badge.

“You’ll have to check in at the front, detective.” The officer sat back down with a nod. 

“My business here is strictly confidential; Dr. Crane said I could enter in this way.” She pointed at the side door and the officer looked nervously at her. He reached for his walkie-talkie. 

“I’m here about Falcone. I am the detective assigned to his case, he was transferred here two days ago. I’m supposed to meet with Dr. Crane about some of the things Falcone has said during his initial treatment. Because of the sensitivity of Falcone’s case in the department, as I’m sure you know, the department has asked that we keep this confidential. No one inside can know that I was here to meet about Falcone. We haven’t told the public yet that he’s been transferred here. Your compliance is necessary for this.” She lied out of her ass but the officer nodded slowly when she finished, his eyes widening at the mention of Falcone’s name. 

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry for delaying you. It’s just business.” 

“I understand completely, thank you officer.” She smiled kindly as the officer scanned her in. Once she was inside she hid her police badge and followed the path she had scouted days before, following the black arrows to the psychiatrist ward (again, funny that they had their own ward- almost as if they were patients themselves). Her black mary janes squeaked quietly as she finally turned onto the hallway where Dr. Crane’s office was located. A row of fluorescent bulbs flickered ominously and she rolled her eyes, silently cursing the asylum for its additional eeriness. His lab was empty and dark and his office was empty though the lights were still on. An assistant passed her, coming from a different lab with a pile of boxes in her arms. 

“Excuse me, do you know where Dr. Crane is right now?” She asked the assistant who shuffled the boxes in her arms to answer. 

“I saw him in the ward with the new transfer patients just before I picked these up, so he’s probably about to start a sit-down with a patient. Do you have an appointment with him?” She asked curiously, knowing it was too late for a business meeting. 

“No, I work in the office and I was going to request a few files to finish a transfer of a patient but it seems that he’s busy. I’ll try tomorrow morning. Thank you!” She smiled and the assistant nodded. 

“Have a nice night,” the assistant hurried off down the corridor into the hub. She wasted no time in checking the door to Crane’s office which was miraculously unlocked. She hurried inside and closed the door, making sure that she left everything as she had found it. The door to the lab was located inside Crane’s office, so she entered the lab through the office. The blinds were closed to the outside so she opened the flashlight on her phone and scanned the dark lab tables for the powders she had seen before. The room smelled heavily of chemicals and cleaning solution and it was hard to breathe normally already because she was nervous. The first table was empty of anything but the second was set up for what looked to be his next round of testing. A box that looked like a closed mouse trap was set up on the table. There was a single switch on the top of the box which she knew better than to turn but she examined it nonetheless, hoping to see what it may contain. A tray of petri dishes full of powder sat beside it. Each was marked with a different series of numbers and letters, denoting their different status, she assumed. She recognized the series on one of the dishes: F7jw009. The number had appeared on the list of drugs recovered from Falcone’s drug transport. It was one that hadn’t yet been tested to see what it was composed of. She didn’t recognize the two other dishes but she assumed the powder and the mousetrap device were used for the same thing.

There was a small bookcase attached to the base of the lab table and she crouched, scanning the spines. The books on the top, free of dust, were on phobias. A bound scientific paper on the chemical structure of fear sat on top of the textbooks. She picked it up and flipped through the pages, noticing strokes of pen and notes on many of the pages. In the centerfold of the paper, she saw a picture of a cartoon scarecrow, one from a halloween decoration. It looked like it had been ripped from a kid’s storybook. She stared at the picture, struggling to place where she had heard about a scarecrow before in the precinct… she flipped farther through the pages and landed on a second photo shoved between the pages. It was a drawing of a mask made of burlap. The mask resembled a scarecrow’s face, she furrowed her eyebrows, more uneasy. Finally, she flipped to the very end where she found a clear note detailing what Crane thought the synopsis of the paper had been: 

Fear can be constructed using a series of complex compounds and put into an admissible form. They have already invented serums that temporarily remove the presence of fear by blocking certain receptors in the brain that receive signals of distress or pain. By doing the very opposite, temporarily numbing the receptors that calm the nervous system when danger has been averted, fight or flight is heightened and the human mind is more susceptible to the suggestion of danger and terror. Fear merely needs to be suggested to elicit a response after the brain is prepped for the reaction. Fear can be weaponized. Building the compounds of fear into a powder, the drug can be administered immediately into the air and receive a simultaneous reaction. Pills? Water? How can we distribute this powder? What is the easiest way to administer fear to the entire population? 

iii 

The distinct click of a door opening and closing shocked her back to attention. She put the bound paper back onto the shelf and switched off the light on her phone. In the dark she scrambled into a hidden alcove inside the lab behind one of the hooded chemical boxes. She was pretty sure that the lab’s closet would be shared with the lab next door but she couldn’t remember which side of the room it was on. Dr. Crane had gone into his office and removed his suit jacket. He was too excited by Falcone’s reaction to his fear serum in powder form and he needed to get a handle on himself. It was nearly midnight when he checked his watch. Most of his colleagues would be gone by now, just the night staff remained to look after the patients. Night was the perfect time to work undisturbed in his lab, especially because his assistant couldn’t know the full extent of his research into the chemical compounds of human fear. He slipped his coat over the back of his desk chair and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. 

He exhaled slowly and removed a stack of papers from his desk, flipping through them as he opened the door into his lab and kicked the door closed with the heel of his shoe. His elbow flicked on the lightswitch and he spread out the papers on the first lab table, seemingly absorbed by the chemical structures his assistant had prepared for him to review. He scribbled a note in red pen on the corner of the document, berating his assistant for his obvious mistake with one of the compound structures. What was this? High school chemistry class? He licked his thumb and turned the page, writing another note in the margin. 

“I know you’re here, Miss —.” He smiled, not looking up from his notes. He tossed the first set of pages further down the table and moved to the next one. “You and your perfume… I can always tell where you’ve been by your scent. I don’t think you’re naive enough to wear perfume in your field, especially when on your little jaunts into other people’s business. So, the lovely smell is from your shampoo, I venture. You use an expensive brand of shampoo because you think that your hair is your best attribute, and I agree, it's one of the best. Your job makes you feel dirty too, doesn’t it? This city makes you feel dirty and so you wash your hair every night with the same sulfate-free shampoo to get the smell of our city out of your system. Your shampoo smells like mint and you like it the best because it makes your head feel cleaner, tingly,” he laughed and moved to the next stack of stapled papers. “And that’s why you chose this job, a detective, because you feel like you’re cleaning up our streets; removing all of the bad blood of Gotham but it’s been a disappointment to say the least. The system is backwards, though you knew that from the beginning, you thought you could fix it. You want things to be right and I don’t blame you, so do I.” 

Dr. Crane finished writing a note on the last paper and capped the pen. He circled the table once before moving to the second table. 

“I’m cleaning the city in my own way, I guess you could say. This city needs a restart button, a way to begin everything again and start fresh. Fear can do that, fear can be controlled and it controls.” 

She could barely breathe, her back was pressed against the wall of his lab. She was scared and she knew that he knew. Fear was his thing, his kink and she anticipated the absolute worst as she waited out her fate, wondering how long it would take for him to find her or if she could manage to escape. 

“This machine can diffuse the compounded form of fear. I’ve used it on most of your suspects, all of them Faclone’s men. I even used it on Falcone himself. Oh, I wish you could have seen his face! The second the powder entered his system he abandoned the arrogant criminal persona, he reverted back to who he was at his very core. He was suddenly controllable and easy to manage. So you see how this could be used to clean up Gotham. It’s a way to seize back control of our city, take it away from the people who run it now; the sycophants and billionaires.” 

Crane pulled a needle from the drawer at his hip and flicked the glass tube. Her chest rose and fell in a state of panic. Dr. Crane leaned against the counter calmly. 

“That’s why you like me. I’m clean. I’m orderly and smart. I’m the opposite of the criminal justice system that reminds you of this dirty city. And, Y/N, that’s why I like you.”

She tensed at his use of her first name. She’d never heard him use it before and it sent a chill down her spine. She reached for her gun. Dr. Crane rounded the corner and stabbed the needle into her neck, pushing the tranquilizer into her bloodstream. She wobbled before slumping back against the wall. She managed to push past him and run for the office door but the drugs worked almost immediately and her legs began to go numb. She couldn’t feel anything below her waist and she worried that he would break her legs running without being able to feel which bones she was using to get away. She collapsed on the floor of the lab and looked up at Dr. Crane who smiled down at her, his hair disheveled. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he cooed and crouched at her feet, “I applaud you for your efforts. You may have succeeded had I not recognized the smell of your shampoo. I know you’ve been here before. You’re a smart girl but I won this game, and the victor gets the spoils. That’s how it works, Miss —.” He crawled over her and pulled the needle from her neck. She didn’t even feel it. Her hair that he loved so much was fanned out on the floor, falling in loose curls. He twirled a curl between his fingers and nodded approvingly. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat you with the utmost respect. Afterall, you are my colleague, of sorts,” he shrugged and stood up, straddling her. “It’s a pity that you became a detective. You would have done well in this bloodthirsty field because,” he disappeared for a moment and returned with a set of keys which he slipped into his front pocket, “you’re like me.” 

He pulled her up and put one of her arms around his shoulder, supporting the brunt of her weight that way. Though he was small and lanky, he was muscular and strong. He dragged her through the door in his lab that connected to a separate room that she hadn’t even noticed. He flipped the light switch with his elbow and sighed with pleasure when the room was lit up with light. 

“Here it is. This is where the real fun happens, Y/N. This is where I test my new treatments on our most psychotic patients. Falcone will be here soon, perhaps tomorrow once you and I finish our discussion.” The room was smaller than the lab and housed what looked like a mortuary slab. She tried to scream but her mouth was numb. He dragged her to the table and lifted her onto the flat surface. The numerous straps he buckled around her waist, her wrists, and her feet. When she was secured onto his table, he pushed a peddle at his foot which titled the table forward, propping her more upright. 

“Ah, and now I can finally see you,” Dr. Crane smiled and moved her hair so that it was caught behind her back. He straightened her hair against her chest, running his fingers through the strands. He moved a stool in front of the table and sat on it, his legs spread and his arms across against his chest. “Do I make you nervous now, detective?” He smirked and chuckled darkly when she couldn’t respond. “It will wear off soon. It’s one of those doses that act quickly but then wear off just as quickly. I wouldn’t do anything to you while you were in this state. What kind of man would I be if I did that?” 

He watched her for a few minutes, his bright blue eyes trailing up and down her body. She knew what that look meant from men. Her gun was so close and yet she knew she wouldn't be able to reach it even when she regained control over her body. While he waited, he arranged numerous tools and vials around the room, humming softly to himself. She could feel herself starting to get feeling back in her stomach as the blood recirculated from her heart. Her hands and her feet took the longest to twitch awake. She dropped her head from left to right, groaning in the absence of words. Dr. Crane came back and checked her pulse, pinching her wrist and counting the seconds on his watch. 

“Good girl, you’re coming back. Can you speak yet?” He supported her chin with his hand and when she didn’t answer he nodded. “That’s all right. You’re all right.” He soothed her and she couldn’t help but relax as his eyes checked over her. “Now, Miss —, where are your weapons?” He posed the question theoretically and touched her, she flinched beneath his hands. He felt around her waist and inside her jacket. “There aren’t many places to hide it.” He whispered and wrapped his hands around her waist, finding the gun at the small of her back. “Ah, here it is.” He smiled as he took the gun from its holster and tossed it onto a small lab table. “You have something else, don’t you. You’re smart so of course, you have a second weapon.”  He licked his lips, thinking but it didn’t take him long to trail his hands up her thighs, glancing up into her eyes as he did. Her skirt rose as he felt below it and soon, his fingers were on top of the knife’s handle. 

“What do we have here?” He lifted her skirt, showing the knife’s hiding place at the top of her thigh. “This is honestly almost funny so forgive me if I laugh.” He ripped the knife from the holster and she cried out as much as she could, terrified by his quick movement. He let her skirt fall back into place and twirled the knife in his hand, examining the small blade. “You’ve just made my night so much more interesting, Miss —.” He smirked darkly. 

iv 

She finally regained her ability to speak though her words were jumbled and hard to get out around her tongue.

“Use your words, honey.” Dr. Crane frowned frustratedly. 

“Please…” she managed, “don’t… hurt… me.” She pushed the words out and he listened carefully. 

“Oh but it’s so hard to resist when you so willingly came here and with your own weapons. Can you see how this might be hard for me?” He furrowed his brow as he spoke and she couldn’t tell what was sarcasm and what was real. 

“It was nothing personal… I had a job to do.” She whispered weakly and he cocked his head, his lips parted. 

“You know it's funny because Falcone’s men all said the same thing. I know you didn’t work with them… but I can make it look like you did.” He whispered close to her face and her chest clenched with fear. “I can do whatever I want, do you understand? I have the power to say that you checked yourself in and I evaluated you. I found you on the verge of a psychotic breakdown because we all know you were already prone to hysterics. But your office shouldn’t worry because I’ll be your psychiatrist. And so what if you happen to disappear- go missing? No one comes in here, except for you, and that was stupid.” 

“You might die tonight, detective. I’m sorry to say it because you are one of the most attractive women I have met in Gotham and I fear that you have ruined our chances of continuing this to a second date.” He studied the curvature of her clavicle as it dipped above her sternum. Not knowing what else to do, she kissed him. Dr. Crane stiffened as her lips met his. He pulled away, stopping short a few inches from her mouth.

“What are you doing?” He raised his eyebrow. 

“If I’m going to die, I might as well make the most of it,” she shrugged and kissed him again, her head leaning as far forward as she could reach. She hoped that she sounded truthful enough. He pulled away again and stared at her, his forehead creased as he watched her. She panted softly, straining against her restraints. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest had broken out into hives from the stress. Fear made her even more beautiful. Going against his better judgment, he leaned forward into her and kissed her hesitantly. Slowly, he began to kiss her more aggressively, his tongue dragging against the roof of her mouth before he captured her top lip in a deep kiss. Her hands instinctively went to reach for his hair but they snapped back against the table. He broke away, panting, and took a few steps back, resting his back against the wall. 

“I don’t trust you,” he put his hands on his hips, still holding the knife. 

“What can I do, Jonathan?” She tried using his first name and he raised an eyebrow again, “I can’t move, no one can hear me scream, you’re going to kill me… what reason is there left to trust me? So, either kiss me or go ahead and kill me.” She nearly cried, overwhelmed and terrified. Her plan had been to seduce him, to use most men’s fatal flaw against him, but she worried that it wouldn’t work with Dr. Jonathan Crane. In a way, she had planned for this. The evidence was back in her office waiting to be discovered. She hadn’t gotten a chance to take pictures of the lab but maybe depending on how far he went with this, she could get away. But God, even though she was terrified and held on a slab against her will, he was beautiful. He was looking at her with his aquamarine eyes, his black hair gelled and falling around his face. Even his glasses looked perfect on his face. 

“Jonathan…” she started with a shakily voice, “despite why I came today and what you’ve told me about what you want to do to Gotham, right now, more than anything, I want you to come here and kiss me because while I may hate you and you may be the cause of my death, I want you. Give me some comfort if you’re going to take everything away from me.” 

“Freud would have some things to say about you, Y/N.” He pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and studied the edge of the knife. “Your psychology is so interesting,” he flicked his eyes up to her’s and set the knife down on the table. “To study you…” he trailed off as he loosened his tie and ripped it from his neck. He approached her, standing far enough away that she couldn’t reach him with her mouth. She exhaled, waiting. “I almost studied anatomy,” he pushed a hand against her navel, holding her even more in place. 

“Why didn’t you?” She whispered. 

“I loved the human mind too much to abandon it,” he smiled and drew a hand up her thigh. Her muscles spasmed beneath his hand. He leaned in against her ear, “I know you’re scared of me,” he whispered calmly, “and isn’t that incredible? That you can be so afraid of something that you want so much?” His hand pulled down her underwear and it stretched between her open thighs, held apart by the restraints. His hand went further still, gently tracing the folds of her labia. She knew that she was wet and it embarrassed her, though she knew it helped confirm her story that she wanted him, he didn’t seem to care either way. His thumb rubbed her clit as he slowly inserted his middle finger into her, pushing past the initial resistance. She always hated fingering because it didn’t feel like how people pretended it did. That being said, she sighed as he gently inserted a second finger and pulled against the top of her cunt, fingering her slowly. 

“The body holds fear because our bodies hold memories,” he explained as he pressed her clit harder. “I can find what really scares you and I can fix it.” 

“I’m scared of you,” she whispered, her breath escaping in a sharp pant. 

“I can fix that.” 

He pulled his fingers out of her and held her neck still against the table as he kissed her. The sense of urgency to fight and escape melted into an afterthought when the back of his hand slid slowly down one side of her neck, making the tendons flex. He held her neck still as he kissed down to her collarbones, licking their shelves and tracing the bone with his tongue. His free hand groped her breast over her tight shirt and then surrounded her waist. She started shifting her hips back and forth, wishing that she had something between them to relieve the pressure she felt. He smiled against her skin and clicked his tongue, pulling away from her. He pressed the pedal again with his foot and the table reclined once again as it had been. He climbed onto the table and sat above her on his knees, looking down at her as she panted. 

“Look at me,” he told her and made sure that her eyes met his. “I have no plans to kill you tonight and I know this act is solely for the benefit of your own survival. But knowing that I will not kill you, would you like to change your mind?” He put both hands around her waist, showing the pale flesh of his forearms. She tried to weigh her options, she tried to think clearly but it all felt like a dream. It didn’t feel real enough to have consequences, so she shook her head and licked her lips quickly.

“No, keep going.” She whispered, “please.” Dr. Crane chuckled lightly and trailed his fingers down to her ankles. 

“In that case, would you like to see my mask?” He smiled darkly, teasing her. 

“No, I want to see your face.” She answered calmly and he nodded. 

“Fine.” He removed the restraints around her ankles. He took the knife from the table and cut away her underwear with one strong swipe of the blade. She gasped and he smirked, “I’m a doctor, remember? I know how to use a knife, detective.” 

He put the knife aside and pulled her knees up, sitting between them. He unbuckled his pants and withdrew his erection, glistening with precum. He guided himself into her with his hand, his eyes never leaving her face. She gasped again as he entered her. He rocked his hips slowly back and forth and groaned, watching her mouth open in a silent moan. She raised her knees higher, closer to her chest, giving him a better angle at which to fuck her. His hands pressed against her stomach and his thrusts became faster as his body began to learn hers. 

“You’re getting wetter,” he observed with a sly smile, “I must be doing something right.” He teased her as he started to rub her clit with his thumb, the rest of his hand pressed against her uterus. She couldn’t even speak. It had been months since she’d last had sex and even then, it wasn’t good sex. “I’m going to go harder but you can take it,” he told her matter of factly and placed either hand by her hips on the table. Leaning forward he shifted his hips slowly but harder, going deeper without much care for how her body adapted to the thrusts. “There you go,” he grunted as his hips bucked rhythmically into hers. She cried out, her body sliding up and down against the table, hot with her perspiration. Holding onto the top of the table, he moved farther up, pushing more inside of her, and started thrusting fast. He was suddenly in so deep and only backing away a few inches before snapping back in. Her hips bounced off of his and she gripped the excess material around her wrists to help her stay stationary. 

“Slow… God, please! Slow down… its so much, fuck.” She whimpered and smiled down at her face, flushed and angry with red. He slowed his hips, squeezing his glutes together whenever he thrusted inside. He leaned down and kissed her slowly, still rocking in and out of her. Her body shuttered from the high and started to build a more even climax. She hummed against his lips, her voicing getting higher as she started to orgasm. 

“And here comes the orgasm,” Jonathan smiled and sped up slightly, leaving hickies up and down her neck. She orgasmed with a shuttering cry that she couldn’t cover with her hand, but he didn’t let her finish there. “Fuck, you got so tight again.” He groaned as she panted, her system overwhelmed with waves of pleasure and exertion. She started to tighten further around him as her thighs squeezed his hips. Her breath left her lungs in short pants and she moaned beneath him like a pitiful creature. “Are you cumming again?” He laughed and stroked her cheek. She nodded weakly and he kissed her again briefly. 

“Its so tight, fuck. I won’t last much longer like this.” He took her hips in his hands and started a steady rhythm, pulling her hips onto his cock and thrusting at the same time. She came around him and he groaned animalistically, his thrusts becoming more sporadic and needy. He watched her breasts bounce inside her shirt and how he slid in and out of her, her cum collecting at the base of his shaft. Finishing with fast, desperate movements, he moaned loudly. She felt him finish inside her and it felt almost better than if she had finished herself. He pulled down her bottom lip with his thumb and admired her fucked-out face. Her pupils were shot and she shook slightly from the high. Finally, he pulled out and stuffed himself back into his pants. He sighed as he straightened his clothes and ran a hand through his hair. He took the gun and the knife and stuffed them both into a drawer and locked it with a set of keys from his pocket. They stared at each other for a while until Jonathan broke the silence, clearing his throat. 

“You’re coming home with me tonight, Miss —. We’ll decide what to do with you later.” 

[baseball-dokyeom]

Long Day

Pairing: Gn!reader x idol!woozi

Word count: 582

Content: fluff, more fluff, domestic Woozi, so so sweet and rahh

Notes: Woozi likes your hands, so down bad and in love

A/n: hi!! This is my first time posting a lil story on here! It’s also my first time writing anything in a while. I hope you enjoy!:) and happy birthday Woozi!! <33

.•*•.•*•.•*•. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── .•*•.•*•.

“Baby!” You call, as you walk inside the apartment. You hear no reply, which probably means your boyfriend, Woozi, isn’t home yet. You go to his studio room in your shared apartment, and it’s empty. “Ah,” you mumble to yourself. “He went into work today.”

You quickly shower and change into some comfier clothes and got take a spot on the couch, turning on some TV while you wait for Woozi to get back home. A while later, once you hear the door open, you crane your head to see your boyfriend, who looks a little more tired than normal. Seeing him give you a tired smile, you get up off the couch and walk to him. “Hello my love,” you say softly.

“Hi…” he murmurs, leaning forward to rest against you.

“Long day?” You ask. He nods in confirmation, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Let’s have a night in, okay?” You say softly. “We can get some takeout and come back and watch that new movie you’ve been telling me about.”

“Sounds good,” He murmurs against your neck, pressing a soft kiss there, before pulling away to kiss your hand.

“I’ll drive,” you smile. You grab his backpack and hang it up, before grabbing the keys and heading out the door with him.

As you get in and start driving, he absentmindedly grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles, joints, the pads of your fingers. In the years you’ve been dating, you’ve noticed he’s always seemed to love your hands, holding them, playing with them, kissing them whenever he can get the chance. It’s one of your favorite things, the way he always plays with them, it never fails to make your heart race.

When you arrive, even though you drove, he makes sure to get out first, taking your hand and kissing the back of it, a small smile on his face as he does so. You chuckle and kiss his cheek in thanks, as you lock the car and walk inside.

There’s another one of his habits, as you stand in line, his hand rests on the small of your back, eventually drifting to your butt. It’s nothing sexual, his hand just naturally rests there, eventually coming to wrap his arms around you from behind, his fingers intertwining with yours. When you try to pay, he swats your hand away and hands the cashier his card. You’re crazy if you think he’ll ever let you pay for anything in this relationship.

He drives back home once you get the food, once again resuming his habit of playing with your hand and fingers while he drives, gently squeezing your hand and tracing small shapes on your palm. Watching him play with your hand makes you smile, it gives you butterflies each time, that small habit of his. It’s a tender thing, really. Your touch tends to keep him grounded, a solid reminder that the love of his life is really here, and with him in that moment.

When you’re inside, you both take turns feeding each other, sneaking kisses between bites, and quips about the movie you’re watching. It’s the small moments of intimacy and love that keep your relationship healthy and strong.

Once the night ends and you head to bed, your head rests on his chest, your limbs entangled. He looks down at you as your breathing gets deeper, a small smile gracing his lips. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, while he rubs his thumb on the back of your hand, making sure you fall asleep first.

Once he sees you’re finally asleep, he closes his eyes, continuing to rub circles on your hand. “I love you, more than anything,” he murmurs, as he falls asleep. He holds you, feeling safe in knowing that he has nothing to worry about, while his heart and home is soundly asleep in his arms.

[formulaheart]

I know it's been said before, but I feel like Katniss gets compared to Lucy Gray a lot because they're both victors from 12 and both women, but its actually Sejanus that she's really similar to. Side note- forgive me if i get a few things wrong, I just saw the new movie and re-watched all the old ones but I haven't read the books in a while.

We see Sejanus thrust into a world he doesn't feel like he belongs to, and we can assume he wasn't a revolutionary until he was directly faced with the horrors of the capital where he became one of the only people willing to speak up. On the other hand, years later, we see Katniss willing to do her own thing and not be involved until the games directly involve her and suddenly she's fighting like hell against the capital specifically, not the other tributes.

The funny thing about them is that the only thing they have going for them, or their cause, is their passion. Neither of them are charismatic, neither of them are particularly likeable or make good impressions. They're brusque, disconnected, determined and absolutely unwilling to play a part, no matter how it may alter the outcome. How other people view them matters very little and they operate on a one track mind. Sejanus made a statement to the game makers and honored a friend when he broke into the arena for Marcus, filled with grief and only half thinking. Katniss did the same when she covered Rue with flowers and when she hanged the dummy of Seneca Crane. Both are calculated but are shortsighted when it comes to their actions. They're sensitive and caring but it's not an immediately obvious character trait, and not something that they're generally known for.

They both just wanted there to be peace, they wanted there to be change, but they didn't want to be the ones to have to do it, unable to handle that kind of weight on their shoulders, and unable to put on an act. Katniss was ready to run from the fight as long as she had the people she loved with her and they were taken care of. Towards the end, all she wanted was for her and Peeta and her family to be safe and away from the fighting. Sejanus tried to help a group of people run away, and tried to run with them, and away from the mess Panem was becoming. He didn't want to be in the middle of it anymore, and as long as he could help a few less fortunate than himself and be away, he was okay. Both of them have break downs on several occasions when their quick actions of what they thought was kindness have consequences they NEVER wanted for anybody (after Katniss speaks in 11 or when Sejanus accidentally gets the rebels in 12 weapons).

Snow was definitely triggered by Katniss because she sang Lucy Gray's song. But he was probably fascinated and enraged by her at the start when she, and her lover boy(artist, performer, lover of people, Lucy Gray) START the games unconventionally -together- and Katniss is passionate, and she's calculated and at the same time so so so impulsive and myopic, and she reminds him of someone. Somebody he betrayed a lifetime ago but that betrayal was his tipping point of NEVER coming back to ANY good he had left in him. And she cries for tributes she knew for a day, and she can't act, even if her life depended on it (and it does), and she lashes out without forethought creating another mess Snow has to clean up, and he can't get a handle of her, and she's a disaster, and all he can think is Sejanus, Sejanus, Sejanus while he tries to control her more and everything spins out farther than he could've imagined.

Sejanus trusted Snow, and Snow outsmarted him, and in the end it was Sejanus's traits he went up against, and he underestimated her and he lost everything for it.

Me and @diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls have been breaking down all the characters and their connections so thank you to them for helping me flesh this out.

[daydreamingyuta]

jeno fluff please..😔 knowing how he is a big homebody, i’m sure he’s the kind that would love to just chill around the house or find random things to do to keep himself entertained 🥹

Homebody | Jeno

summary: fluff, bf!Jeno spending a relaxing day at home with you instead of going out. wc: 1,066 a/n: I've been wanting to write for Jeno for a while now so thank you for requesting! Jeno's such a cutie so I had sm fun writing this. I hope you like it! <3

The two of you had every intention of going out today, but like always, staying home just sounded so much better. Jeno definitely wasn’t complaining, he had always been a homebody and getting to spend time with his favorite person in sweatpants was all he could ask for. 

You’re sitting in Jeno’s bed on your phone, when you hear him walk through the door with a pile of snacks in his arms.You crane your neck a bit so you can get a better view of everything he was holding.

“Are you smiling that big because of me or the snacks?” Jeno asks, stopping at the doorway.

“... the snacks obviously.”

He fake pouts and refuses to move any closer toward you. You two have a mini staring contest before you finally give up. Getting out of the bed, you walk over to Jeno who instinctively moves the snacks further away from you. “I’m not going to grab them.” You say, taking Jeno’s face into your hands and pressing your lips onto his. “Obviously I was smiling because of you.”

“Here.” He says happily, handing over your favorite chips. You gladly take them and hop back into his bed, moving the blanket back and patting the bed to invite Jeno to sit. All the snacks flop onto the bed while he gets situated. You feel his arms wrap around you as he moves you in between his legs with your back resting against his chest. You always loved to sit like this because Jeno was the absolute best pillow.

You get comfortable and you feel Jeno’s hand rest on your thigh, which was something that always made you melt. “What are we watching?” You ask, turning your head so you can look up at him. 

“Hm, I don’t know, let's just go through netflix and see what we find.” He says, grabbing the remote. As always, It took you two far too long to settle on a movie, but you finally pick one you’re both interested in. 

Throughout the movie, you both share all the snacks but once they’re gone, you find yourselves more cuddled into each other. By the time the movie was over, you had moved to Jeno’s side so you could watch videos on his phone while you ran your fingers through his soft hair. 

This went on for a while until one video replayed three times and Jeno still hadn’t moved onto the next one. You look over at him and see that he had closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of you playing with his hair. You stop and give a gentle tug which causes his eyes to open. 

“You’re so cute Jeno.” You say, as he looks up at you.  

“Please don’t stop, baby.” He says, giving you those eyes that you could never resist so of course, you oblige. Before you know it, he starts to fall asleep. He had been pretty busy lately so you could hardly blame him for needing to take a nap. You were always so easily influenced by him so you also decided to close your eyes. Your body moves closer to him as you feel his arms wrap tightly around you, which always makes you feel so safe and comforted. 

⸻

You really don’t know why you don’t take naps with Jeno more often. Waking up in his arms always reminded you of how much you adored moments like this with him. His slightly messy hair, his warm body being pressed against yours, and how relaxed you felt like this. It made you want to appreciate more of these types of moments with him, the moments he only shares with you.

You’re both on your phones trying to fully wake up again, when you hear Jeno’s phone ding. You didn’t mean to look over and read his text, but you saw that Haechan had asked him if he could go online and play a game. You assumed he would say yes, but he didn’t move. 

“You can play with Haechan, I don’t mind.” You say, surprising him that you had seen what Haechan had said. 

“No, I don't wanna ignore you.” He says, grabbing your hand in his and squeezing it. 

“No, really I brought my book over and I know you’ve been wanting to play all week.” Before you could fully get your sentence out, Jeno gives you no less than ten kisses all over your face. “Tell me if you get bored and I’ll get off, ok?.”

You nod your head, assuring him that you’re more than fine with it. You’re at a really good part in your book right now anyways so you get comfy while Jeno starts up his game.

Almost an hour goes by and you’re so into your book. You just got to the reveal of the plot twist and your eyes are glued to the story, which is why you didn’t notice Jeno staring at you. The sounds of his game were still going on in the background so there was nothing to signify to you that he had stopped playing. 

“You’re so pretty baby.” He says, taking you away from the different world on the pages. You look up at him and use your book to cover up your smile. Jeno always found a way to make you shy. “You’re supposed to be playing your game.”

“I know, but I looked over at you and got distracted.” You watch as he turns back to his computer and shuts the game off. He walks over to you and flops down right next to you. “Don’t let me stop you from reading your book.” He says, as he gestures for you to keep reading.

“Are you going to stare at me the whole time?” 

Jeno nods his head and then finds a comfortable spot so he can do exactly that. You read your book for about two minutes before you get shy again from his gaze. “Jennoo” You say, holding your book down, unable to hold in your smile

“Ok, ok I’ll stop but it’s not my fault you’re so addicting to look at.” You watch as he takes his eyes off of you and takes his phone out. You try to get back to your book but his sweet words were the only thing that filled your mind.

“I’m glad we stayed home today.”

“Hm, me too.”

[foreverisntenough]

I know this is kind of a silly concept to jump thisss far ahead but it felt cute to me 🥹 Going far into the future of the You’re Mine*, Ours*, and The Epilogue world!

--------- My tiny one shot below for you 🤍

'15 Again' - 4.1k words |

↳ A boy invites Teddy, now 15, to go to the cinema. Y/N reassures her it will go well but both you and she are nervous about how Trent will act.

Other ForeverIsntEnough One Shots

---------

“Mummy, please just don’t let him make it a big deal. It’s one thing if he wants to drive us but if he’s gonna go all ‘dad mode’ I just won’t go.” Teddy complained with a devastatingly cute pout that she’d carried since she was born. 

“Baby, he is your dad. If there’s one thing he’s going to do, he’s going to ‘dad.’” You sympathetically smiled at her. Teddy had been talking to a guy. It was very evident there was a crush in full bloom. He was cute, reminded you a little of Trent to be honest when she showed you a photo. You weren't totally sure of the extent of it but she’d been filling you in here and there but keeping it fairly sparse the second Trent came round. She of course told Trent but it took a lot of encouragement for her to muster up the courage to ask him if she could go see a movie with the boy. She covered by saying it was a group of her friends all hanging out, that was true, but the only reason Teddy took any interest and felt the need to ask was because the boy invited her. You had told Trent this one night in bed. 

“T… I know it’s not your favorite thing in the world but she was excited and I want her to feel confident going. I don’t want her to not tell us things.” You cooed lying on his bare chest dragging your nails mindlessly over his warm skin. 

“I know you’re right. That’s the last thing I want with our kids.” Trent sighed. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do baby but who the fuck is this kid?” Trent asked, shuffling to sit up in your bed pulling you with him. “Why’s he inviting her anywhere?” He asked you naively. 

“T… she’s stunning. It’s not exactly shocking a boy is interested. Remember when you used to bring her to training and everyone’s little boys just used to flock. I hate to tell you this, it’s only getting worse.” You giggled. Teddy from day dot just drew people in with her looks. Yes, you would argue her personality and heart were her best attributes but she was gorgeous and from the age of probably about four on, boys around her age took note. 

“Yeah, but I was there to tell them to get the fuck away from my baby.” Trent told you with a stern face. He definitely never told a teammate’s five year old son to 'fuck off' but he thought it anytime a boy came near Teddy.  “I made her. I know that she’s beautiful. She’s perfect but baby, she’s smart and she’s funny and she doesn’t need him.” Trent subconsciously pouted.  

“No, you’re right, she doesn’t need anyone but she likes to have friends, T. It's nice to be liked.” You gently cooed, running your hands over his soft warm skin in consolation. 

“Do they have to be lads?” He held his pout but shifted his gaze to look down at you with signature pooling puppy dog eyes. 

“Look, if anything, you know from first hand experience it’s possible to truly love and care and support a girl, hmm?” You smiled before craning your neck up to Trent for a kiss. 

“I kn…. She’s just my baby.” Trent sighed hating that you had a point but he was sure there was no way a boy Teddy’s age could love someone the way he loved you and there was no way they deserved Teddy, full stop. 

“She’s fifteen.” You frowned at him. An ache rifled through your own heart realizing your baby girl was so grown. Teddy was two years old forever. That was Trent’s baby, she was spoiled but he expected the world from her, and boys weren’t allowed to exist. That’s how he liked her life to be.

“Teddy bear just take it as a win, hmm?” You cooed as you made food for Teddy, her friend, Sophie, Tate, and Theo. The agreed upon plan was that Teddy could go to the film as long as Trent dropped them off at the cinema to meet their friends. 

“People love dad.” Theo added stealing a strawberry off your cutting board before popping over to your kitchen table to take a seat next to his younger brother. 

“Dad’s the coolest, Ted.” Tate added. His smile incredibly innocent, sweet and identical to Trent’s. Your youngest baby, now ten, which was a big deal to him, just had this purity about him that made you want to just squish him.

“He’s pretty cool, huh?” You cooed gently, walking over to kiss Tate’s hair as you put down a plate for him and one for Teddy’s friend, Sophie.  He hummed, turning to hug your waist as you swatted at Theo who was reaching to steal some of his food. You had made him a plate you just needed to go grab it, if he could wait.

“I know people love dad, that's the problem.” Teddy sighed. Teddy adored Trent, of course she did. You had yet to hit a year where she hadn’t but add a teen crush into the mix and things seemed to go a bit hairy. 

“It’ll be fine, seriously.” Sophie tried to reassure her. She wasn’t nearly as nervous as Teddy was but her dad also wasn’t the one driving them.

“Mum…” Teddy whined looking for some sort of reprieve. Some saving grace as if you could miraculously change Trent’s mind. 

“Baby… if you’re that worried about it just talk to him. You know you can, no?” You smiled bringing over the remaining plates for Teddy and Theo. 

“I know but what am I supposed to say?” She groaned, dropping her head into her hands. 

“That you have a fat crush.”  Theo teased her with a cheeky laugh. He reached over prodding at her side. 

“Tio!” Teddy complained. Her nickname for Theo had stuck. The ‘h’ in Theo’s name had never really made an appearance in your house.  Your oldest boy raised his hands claiming his innocence. Childish giggles escaped from Tate. For context, your fourth baby Tyde was out at a friend’s house but despite missing one, your house was constantly filled with laughter. Trent had taken Tyde this morning on his way to training which he was supposed to be home from soon to take Teddy and Sophie. It was busy but it was what you’d always wanted. 

“Hi babyyy! I missed you, T.” You sang with a big smile seeing Trent come into the kitchen on time after training.

“C’mere, beautiful.” Trent cooed, pulling you by your waist into his embrace. He kissed you in a way that was sexy but stern before he kissed the tip of your nose. “You missed me?” He flashed you the most gorgeous smile that still managed to fill your stomach with butterflies. You bit your lip and nodded completely smitten as if you two were fifteen years old. Teddy’s friend's eyes widened and a cheeky smile grew on her face as she watched you two in awe of the chemistry that was old hat to your three kids who sat unphased at the table. 

“Can you guys like not… I have a friend over.” Teddy quipped feigning a dramatic grossed out face.  

“Dad’s just a simp! Good for mum. Just let them live their life.” Theo laughed, taking a jab at Trent. Teddy tossed a less than impressed ‘ew’ comment at him. 

“Sorry baby bear. I love mummy and that's not changing anytime.” Trent told her as he swayed you back and forth in his arms. He stood behind you resting his chin down upon your shoulder. 

“Y/N... how did you guys meet?” Sophie asked you, putting her elbows on the table and her face in her hands looking on with great fascination.

“Oh… erm… We met in Manhattan where I was living at the time. He was on holiday and we just clicked.  Then I gave up my whole life just to make all these beautiful new ones though so don’t forget that. Miss. ‘Can you not.’” You kissed Teddy’s cheek, pinching at her waist teasingly for her cheeky complaint moments ago. 

“Honestly… stand up, mum. You’re so embarrassing for him. He was a professional footie player, it’s not like you were making a big sacrifice.” Teddy quipped with some bite you weren’t loving that she was developing lately but she was a teenager. It ebbed and flowed. She knew her place and the respect you expected at the end of the day. 

“Boo hoo trading my penthouse for my mansion.” Theo piled on with a tease. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I love you mum.” He rectified immediately, holding his hands back up in innocence knowing a reprimand from his dad was forthcoming. Trent shot him a glare. Trent would take crap banter from your boys but you weren’t really on the table. Trent wouldn’t let them. 

“You know you used to get so fussy when I talked about the times I hadn’t met dad yet and here you are now switching up on me.” You cooed to Teddy recalling that since she could even speak singular words, she’d complain the second Trent wasn’t the topic. 

“Yeah well… She dipped on my aunts to move here.” Teddy turned and relayed a fairly incorrect version of your past to Sophie. You cautioned her with her name. “You did! You dipped on Lauren and Winnie!” She yelped.

“Ted, you wouldn’t even exist if she didn’t move so I don’t know why you’re complaining about this.” Theo piped up in the midst of continuing to steal food off Tate's plate just to get a rise out of him.

“Okay, okay, enough. This conversation is over, thank you.” You moved to go pluck a few berries off Theo’s plate and plopped them back over onto Tate’s. “I’m happy with my decisions but I appreciate the feedback.” You smiled walking back over to Trent at the kitchen island.  

“I am pretty happy with your decisions as well. Somehow look even better than you did then though, how’d you manage that, hmm?.” Trent whispered in your ear but everyone in the room could hear. You giggled. Maybe Teddy was right, you were embarrassing for him. 

“Dad, don’t lie.” Teddy groaned. 

“Aye.” Trent sternly cautioned her.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that, mama. You’re gorgeous… It's honestly annoying.” Teddy sighed. She stood up to come and give you an appologetic cuddle. You welcomed her into your warm embrace.

“Yeah, Y/N you’re so fit. Like good on you. All our guy friends think you’re hot.” Sophie added. You waved her off but internally you were celebrating a fifteen year old thinking you looked good. Trent winced when he heard the phrase ‘our guy friends’ come out her mouth though.

“Bye my Teddy girl.” You gently cooed as Teddy came to say bye to you before heading out.

“Bye mama, I love you.” She softened immediately upon seeing you as her anxiety began to rise ahead of leaving the house. She felt like a little girl, and to you she always would be.

“Be brave, okay? You’re beautiful, baby.” You reminded her cupping her cheek. 

“I’m kind of nervous now.” She confessed even though she didn’t have to. She knew you already knew it but it was nice to get off her chest.

“You’ll have fun. Just text me, yeah? And don’t let daddy play his music.” You smiled at her with some reassurance and a joke. 

“Definitely not.” She laughed. “You really think this looks okay?” She asked you. You had let her borrow a tan Miu Miu knit cardigan of yours to wear. The white fabric highlighting her golden tanned skin. 

“Perfect. Promise. My gorgeous gorgeous girl. But baby if you're nervous tell daddy, please. You know he always helps you. He has good advice.” You sympathetically smiled at her stroking your thumb over her inherited high cheek bone. 

“I know, thanks mama.” She whispered, hugging you. 

“Love you, baby.” You said as you fixed the necklace laying on her chest. It was the diamond band Trent gave her still on a chain from when he proposed to you. You had to get a new chain length over time but it was just the same. “Say bye to your brothers, please.” You cooed. 

“Bye Tio,  bye Tatey.” Teddy yelled out to them. She was met with teasing ‘good luck’ sentiments.

“Dad…” Teddy hesitantly called to Trent. Sophie had tucked to the toilet before they left, leaving only Teddy and her nerves in the foyer. Trent hummed, turning towards her. “I know it’s lame....I’m sure you wouldn’t get it... but I don’t know...you probably don’t even want to hear about tonight but I’m nervous.” Teddy mumbled, scared. 

“C’mere baby.” Trent pulled her to sit on the bottom of the stairs with him while they waited for Sophie. “I will listen to you about anything, always. I get it. What makes you think I’m immune to nerves! Hmm?” He smiled at her wrapping his arm around her.

“Dad…you’re you.” She pouted, incorrectly thinking Trent never got nervous. 

“Ted, I get nervous all the time. It's just all about what you do with those nerves. You think I’m not full of nerves before.. “ Teddy sighed, gearing up to hear about football. Trent caught her disappointment though. “You know what, baby? When I first took mummy on a date… god, I went in confident. I thought nothing could shake me but I saw her and mummy’s gorgeous, we know that…” Trent smiled recalling your first date. 

“Yeah? How is this helping me?” Teddy raised her brow trying to think how hearing how attractive you were would help her right now. 

“Listen. I barely knew her. I was terrified but those nerves helped me to understand it clearly was something that was important to me. I wanted the night to go well. And it did because that’s the other thing, Ted, if you like someone, they should put those nerves at ease overtime, sure not out the gate, it’s good to have butterflies and all that, but you should be able to relax.”  Trent kissed her temple.

“What if he doesn’t relax with me… what if I’m not pretty enough? Mama is kind of a tough person to compare to.” Teddy sighed once more resting her head against his shoulder. Trent pulled her tighter to him. 

“Hey. You are the most stunning girl. I’m serious. And you know it as well. Yeah?” Trent clicked the power button of his phone to light up his background. It was a photo of your family but Teddy was sat in the middle. He tapped on her figure, pointing out that she was indisputably beautiful. “When I met mummy, did you know what really made her gorgeous? Makes her gorgeous? What made me really fall in love with her? Not just a girl… her specifically?” Teddy shook her head 

“She was just her. That's what sets you apart. There is no one like you, Teddy Alexander-Arnold. You are beautiful, smart, brave, funny. Baby, I’ll be the first to tell you - this lad doesn’t deserve your time but if you want someone to like you, they’ll like you for all that you are and nothing but that. I won’t have it any other way.” Trent told her sincerely.

“Thanks daddy.” Teddy cooed, hugging him. 

“Not another way, alright? I’ll fucking tell him that as well.” Trent quipped with a serious face.

“Dad, please.” Teddy giggled. 

“I have pull around here. That lad won’t step a foot near another footie match.” Trent laughed but both of them knew he was being serious. 

“I think he’d probably hate that.” Teddy laughed, feeling a weight lift off her. 

“Well then tell him if he doesn’t think you’re the most perfect girl in the whole world he can forget about going to a footie match any time soon… and he’s an idiot. My most perfect girl in the whole world.” Trent cooed. Their identical dimples sunk further into their smiling cheeks. “You and mummy, you know? Little bit of a tie for me.” Trent grinned at her, squeezing her side. 

“There it is.” Teddy giggled. “Tio’s right, you are a simp.” She said standing up, Trent following. .

“Gimme a cuddle, baby bear.” Trent cooed pulling her into him once more. 

“I just want to meet the lads. Relax!” Trent laughed a little as he drove into the car park. Trent drove Sophie and Teddy to the movie theater. Teddy happily taking care of music on the way there. As Trent's sleek black G-Wagon rolled up to the cinema, its tinted windows reflecting the streetlights, Teddy felt a mix of excitement and dread. She loved her dad more than anything, but she also knew what was about to happen. The group of boys gathered outside the cinema—all waiting for Teddy and her friend—began to mutter amongst themselves the moment the car pulled up.

"You think her dad will bring her?" one of the boys whispered, eyes wide with a mix of awe and nerves.

"I hope so, bro.”  Another replied, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. Teddy glanced at her dad, hoping he might just drop her off without too much fanfare. But of course, Trent had other plans. He turned off the engine and gave her a smile that was both reassuring and mischievous.

"Dad, please no.” Teddy groaned softly, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her. She wasn't mortified by Trent himself—she loved him dearly—but she knew he was more than just a dad to most people. 

“Nah, c’mon.” To these boys, he was a legend, a celebrity, and her personal hero. When Trent stepped out of the car, the boys straightened up, their eyes widening even more. They all tried to play it cool, but their excitement was palpable. As Trent approached, a few of them began to stammer,

“M-Mr. Alexander-Arnold, we're such huge fans—" Trent chuckled, his smile easy.

“Yeah? You know ball then but it’s just Trent, lads. No need for all that." He extended his hand, dapping each of them, but his eyes were searching for one boy in particular—the one Teddy had mentioned. When he spotted him, he motioned for the boy to step aside.

“Mate, come here a second," he said with a nod, his tone friendly but carrying an unmistakable authority. The boy, clearly nervous but trying to keep his composure, walked over to Trent. His friends watched in a mix of envy and curiosity. 

"Yes, sir—I mean, Trent," he stuttered. Trent gave him a firm but kind smile, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Listen, mate," he began, his voice lowering so only the two of them could hear. “You’re not going to touch my daughter, you got that?”  Trent explained very seriously.

"Of course, sir—I mean, Trent. I understand…" the boy nodded quickly, starting to loose the life in his eyes.  Trent cut him off with a smile, though there was a seriousness in his eyes. 

"Good to hear. But let me tell you something, and I mean this in the nicest way possible," he continued, his tone still polite but unmistakably firm. "I need you to know that that girl over there is perfect and she has me, three brothers, two uncles, and the entire England football association that will hurt you lad if you hurt her, got it? She’s perfect, yeah?.” Trent told him. 

"I know sir." The boy gulped, nodding fervently. Trent patted his shoulder once more, his smile returning to its usual warmth. “Thank you for letting her come.” Trent was shocked the young boy continued talking but softened at his demeanor. It was genuine. Not fearful but secure and earnest. Definitely nervous though. “I… I.. Well, she said she’d never seen Harry Potter and I thought she’d like it. I don’t know what you think of it but I just thought you’d… like you have to see it at least once so.” The boy nervously babbled. It took all Trent had not to fall into the nerd he was to talk about those films. Teddy hadn’t even shared that she and her friends were going to see those movies rerun tonight.

“Yeah. Course. She’ll like the films. Threat still stands but I agree. She’s beautiful and protected, don't forget that.” Trent reminded him snapping back into his protective dad mode.

“I won’t. It was really nice to meet you, sir.” Trent gave him a simple head nod. 

“You’ll call me or mummy, hmm?” Trent cooed, walking back to Teddy to say goodbye. Feeling a little more at ease now that he made his presence known to this boy. 

“Yeah, I promise. Thank you. dad. You didn’t say anything bad right?” Teddy sheepishly asked Trent, terrified of his response. 

“Teddy girl...” He gave her a cheeky grin and she pouted. “I will never not protect you, baby but I want you to have fun too, yeah? But not too much, you know?” Trent cautioned her. 

“Dad!” Teddy yelped with a grossed out face, hating Trent’s insinuation.

“Ted! It’s a valid comment to make! If he tries to kiss you….” Trent tried to keep talking but Teddy cut him off with another yelp. “Just be a good girl for me, please, yeah? Maybe next time you take him to a match day instead.” Trent smiled, pulling her into a cuddle.

“Really? Teddy’s eyes opened wide. Match days were fairly Alexander- Arnold family heavy days so she was surprised. 

“Yeah, consider it a step before bringing him home. I think he likes ya, baby so we’ll have to get to know him a little more.” Trent winked at her. 

“I feel like Anfield would be slightly more intimidating whereas Mum and Tatey at home aren’t exactly the most threatening people.” She softly smiled trying to really weigh what Trent was offering. “Oh my god… Celly will kill him.” Teddy came to a very quick realization about the facts of brining a boy to a match.

“That’s the point, Ted. That’s the point.” Trent smiled, kissing her temple. Teddy rolled her eyes. As Trent walked back to the G-Wagon, Teddy could only cover her face with her hands, half-laughing, half-groaning in embarrassment. But deep down, she felt a swell of pride and love for her dad. Even when he was being a bit overprotective, she knew he had her best interests at heart. And seeing the boy’s awestruck expression as Trent walked away, she couldn’t help but smile— maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“It went okay?” You tentatively asked Trent getting into bed that night. 

“It was fine, baby.” He laughed climbing into bed beside you. He pulled you into his embrace. 

“How embarrassing were you?” You asked with a smirk knowing that the question would evoke a response. 

“I genuinely was not!  I’m so offended you and Teddy always make it out like I am.” He responded with a laugh feigning offense to your question. You shot him a glare knowing he had been acting a little over protective and it wasn’t all that far fetched. “Baby, Ted said she was fine. I told her she should invite the lad to a match. He said he liked football.” Trent hummed kissing your hair.

“Wow… little 180 huh?” You looked up at him surprised by him offering the invitation when just the other night Trent was furious the boy even looked in Teddy’s direction. 

“Nah, I just want to sus the kid out. Seemed cool, seemed to understand that she’s perfect and that there was a high likelihood of him getting hurt if he did anything.” Trent explained with a proud smile. 

“T!” You whined. 

“Nah. Relax, beautiful.  I just chatted with him. All her friends were excited to meet me and then I left.” Trent told you keeping his smug self satisfactory grin plastered to his face. 

“Her friends seem to be quite excited by a lot of things.” You mused dropping your tone as you moved to straddle him, recalling what Sophie had shared earlier.

“Mmm you’re making me excited right now.” He cheekily hummed. “But I’ll tell you right now, if I find out which one of them said you’re hot. I’ll tell him he’s not fucking wrong but he need to shut his mouth. Get away from my wife.” Trent’s face falling from lust into seriousness and then swiftly back into a teasing smile. “You are just too beautiful, hmm?” He pulled you down tight to him, eliciting a giggle from you. “Then you go and make that gorgeous girl. Now, I have to protect both of you.” Trent explained dramatically. 

“Baby.” You pouted at him before kissing his lips.

“You’re just for me.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Always always always.” You cooed.

⇨ Read other ForeverIsntEnough here!

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-seven] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, alcohol, smut (18+ ; mdni)

word count: 3.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: public-ish sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), switch!minho

“So, what movie are we seeing?” you asked, exhaling deeply to try and physically release the stress you’d been holding. 

Minho pursed his lips, making you narrow your eyes in suspicion. “So the thing is, it’s not really a movie, movie.”

“Minho, what are we watching?”

He mumbled it. “A BTS concert from 2019.”

“You took me to see your own movie?”

“It’s what they were showing! I had nothing to do with it, like they’re in the middle of a marathon. Last week they showed one from 2018.”

“Seems awfully convenient,” you mused. 

“Trust me, I know. I thought I was losing my mind when I looked at their website earlier.  But I promise I had nothing to do with it. Apparently, they have a really big fanbase in Hawai’i. You really think I’m so tacky I’d take a date to my own gig?”

“No comment.”

“Listen, I wouldn’t have taken you to a K-pop thing if there was something else playing, but there’s only the one lot. The music is good, trust me.”

“If you say so.”

Minhno smirked. “I do say so. I think you’ll like it, actually.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah, I hear there’s someone very good-looking performing.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Oh yeah, they’re supposed to be really handsome, right?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d rather fuck you,” you quipped. He raised an eyebrow suggestively, making you laugh.

“What are we doing here, then?”

“We’re on our date!”

“But we could leave.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to get into my pants on the first date,” you scoffed. 

“I don’t have to try,” Minho pointed out. “I was already successful before our date. Many times, actually.”

“I was there, you don’t have to remind me.”

“Are you sure?”

You rolled your eyes through a grin. “Positive.”

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” you assured him, leaning over the center console to nudge his shoulder. 

You stayed there, shoulders resting against each other. He looked over and smiled at you before reaching for your hand and taking it in his. He lifted his other hand to check his watch. 

“The movie starts in about ten. I know they have a concession stand but if you want snacks you’ll probably have to be the one to get them. I can give you the money, obviously, I just can’t…”

“Leave the car,” you finished for him.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I’ll go see what they have,” you decided. Minho handed you his wallet but you didn’t take it. “It’s on me. You bought the movie tickets.”

“You know I’m in this movie, right? You don’t have to worry about splitting the cost of everything.”

“I know, just, let me do this.”

Minho held his hands up in surrender and pocketed his wallet. “Fine, fine. Can you get me a beer?”

“Sure. Any kind in particular?”

“Whatever they have is fine. I’m not picky.”

You nodded and stepped out of the car, smoothing your dress out in case it had ridden up. You stood on your tip toes and craned your neck to try and find the concession stand above all of the cars. 

Luckily, there was a big neon sign that read CONCESSIONS with an arrow pointing to a kiosk that was presumably sitting underneath it. 

You wove inefficiently through the parking lot over to the sign, sighing when you spotted the long line. It was moving pretty fast so you didn’t have to wait very long and by the time you made it to the front, you still hadn’t decided what to get. 

The woman behind the counter looked bored and impatient so naturally, you panicked. 

“Hi, um can I please get a medium popcorn and two Nerds Ropes?”

“Anything to drink?”

Your eyes flicked to the menu overhead but all of the options seemed to blend together in an unintelligible jumble. “Uh, a water bottle and a peach High Noon, please. And what kind of beer do you guys have?”

She listed off a handful. You chose the first one you recognized and hoped it was one Minho wouldn’t mind too much. You waited as she ID’ed you and rang you up, dropping a couple of bills in the tip jar when she handed you your change. 

You had stupidly declined a tray so you had to very precariously carry everything back to the car in your arms. It was one of those establishments that took the caps off of bottled drinks and opened cans before you were allowed to leave the counter which meant you had to be extra careful with how you balanced things so that nothing would spill. 

“You good?” Minho asked, watching you struggle with everything. “I’d help, but that would kind of defeat the purpose of not going to get the stuff in the first place.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. 

He didn’t look convinced but it wasn’t like he could do anything but watch so he didn’t comment further until you were seated again. 

“What’d you end up getting?”

“Well, popcorn.”

“It’s not a movie without it.”

“Exactly,” you agreed and handed him the bucket. “And I got us a water to share and some Nerds Ropes, I hope you like those.”

“Love em.”

“And then I got myself a High Noon and I got you a Heineken. I’m sorry, I blanked when she told me all of the types of beer they served and chose the first one I knew.”

“It’s okay! I told you I’m not picky. Heinekens are fine, babe, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Minho chuckled and took a sip from the bottle as if to prove to you that he liked them. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t they be? Do you have something against Heinekins?”

You made a face. “Bad memories.”

“Mm, I see. In that case, I won’t offer you any.”

“Thank you. Did you want to try some of my drink?”

“Sure, what’d you say it was?”

You passed it to him. “A High Noon. Have you never had one?”

“No, I don’t usually go for seltzers.” You watched him take a sip, laughing when he made a similar face to the one you had made just a few moments prior. “Oh god, the bubbles hurt.”

“How big of a sip did you take?!”

“A regular-sized sip! The carbonation is just a lot!”

“You’re so dramatic. Beer is also carbonated!”

“Not that carbonated!”

You rolled your eyes. “You just enjoy your drink and I’ll enjoy mine.”

“Gladly.”

Just then, the parking lot’s overhead lights dimmed. The projector flickered to life, casting the station to which to tune your car’s radio. Minho fidgeted with the dial until it was tuned to the right frequency. 

“Welcome to Aloha Drive-In’s adult-only feature film of the night! We have late-night showings for ages eighteen and up every weekday.”

“What makes it adults-only?” you asked aloud. “Is it actually a strip show or something?”

“They serve alcohol,” Minho explained. “Something with the licensing prevents them from offering it during regular showings.”

“Oh.”

“I can give one when we get back later, though.”

“Only if you sing the whole time.”

He grinned. “Name the song, I’ll do it.”

“Please stay in your car for the duration of the film unless you need the restroom or concessions. In case of emergency...”

You listened to the rest of the spiel in silence, snacking lightly on what you’d bought until the BigHit logo appeared on the screen. 

You had to admit that it was a pretty good concert, even though you didn’t have a lot of context as to what was going on. It seemed like there were a lot of inside jokes between the artists and the fans that you were missing because you weren’t a fan. 

Minho pointed himself out during each song, sometimes giving extra context to the performances, like how long rehearsals were for them or how they had to change the choreography because someone named J-hope didn’t like the way the formations looked. 

You realized this was the first time you were seeing Minho dance. And he was good. You knew he wasn’t the focal point of the concert but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He made all of the movements look so easy, so natural. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you, gauging your reactions. You could tell he was pleased by how entranced you were and even though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of ogling over him, it was impossible not to. 

You were surprised by how many of the songs were... sexy. The subtitles didn’t translate the lyrics, only the dialogue, but from the dance moves, you got the feeling that they weren’t all PG. 

“I thought you said this wasn’t a striptease,” you muttered, watching the dancers’ hips roll in time with the music.

Minho laughed. “We’re not stripping,” he insisted.

“You might as well be.”

“Just keep watching.”

You did, keeping your attention on on-screen Minho. The camera cut to him for a brief second as he had a moment with one of the members and you almost gasped out loud as he wrapped a hand around the older man’s neck. You shifted in your seat, squeezing your thighs together as the Minho on the screen squeezed Namjoon’s (?) throat. Minho’s gaze fell to your lap when he caught the movement of your legs. 

“Are you cold?”

“Um, a little,” you lied. 

You were in fact, not cold at all. You were actually feeling a little warm. 

“Here,” Minho said, reaching behind him to grab something. It was a blanket, and he draped it over your legs. “Don’t worry, it’s not the same one from the beach.”

You nodded in appreciation, grateful that he had clarified that it was a clean blanket and not the one that had been laid down in the sand and had sex on top of from the night before. 

Minho kept a hand on your thigh even after he’d situated the blanket on your lap. 

“Warming you up,” he explained before you could ask.

You were a little suspicious of his true intentions but he wasn’t moving his hand and he had gone back to watching the movie so you let it go. 

The snacks you bought lasted you throughout the majority of the film. Once you’d finished them, you put the candy wrappers in the empty popcorn bowl and placed it on the floor of the car so that you could lean across the center console and rest your head on Minho’s shoulder. He met you halfway to make it less uncomfortable for you. It was a little awkward, trying to position yourselves in a way that felt natural.

Your suspicions about Minho’s hand were of course proved correct when you felt it begin to inch upward. Your thighs parted automatically for him before you could process what was happening. It was pathetic how responsive your body was to him. 

“I’ve been trying so hard not to stare at you all night,” he confessed. “Look so fucking pretty in this dress.”

“You should try harder,” you teased, reminding him of when you had to kick him under the table at dinner with his family.

“You’d be doing the same thing if you were in my shoes,” he insisted.

“No, because I have self-control.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, fingers ghosting over your panties.

You sucked in a breath, physically holding yourself back from arching into his touch. 

“This isn’t affecting you at all?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“What about this?”

You knew he could feel how wet you were getting. It was pointless to lie. But even as he pulled your underwear to the side and teased you by putting the tip of his middle finger inside of you, you wouldn’t admit it. 

“This is doing nothing for you?” Minho prodded, curling his finger in a little deeper. 

You gasped and gripped the car door handle, nervously checking your surroundings to ensure you weren’t being watched. Minho had parked in the back of the lot so there was no one behind you. Everyone else seemed zoned in on the concert playing like they were supposed to be.  

“I asked you a question,” he reminded you. 

“Feeling nothing,” you lied. 

Minho tongued his cheek in annoyance even though it was clear you were just fucking with him. 

“You’re such a brat.”

“You already knew that.”

He sighed. “That’s true.”

You were both quiet for a couple of beats, letting the screams of the crowd fill the silence. Minho’s finger was still halfway inside of you under the blanket and your dress and you had to try very hard not to think about it. 

Then, beside you, Minho laughed. 

“What?” you mumbled absentmindedly, forcing yourself to keep staring at the screen. 

“Watching me dance is making you clench around my finger.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and you sunk down in your seat, which coincidentally pushed Minho’s finger deeper inside of you, making you whimper. 

“It’s not my fault!” you cried before he could say anything. “Obviously I’m going to be turned on by seeing you move like that!”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” he assured you, voice full of amusement. “I’m glad I can make you feel that way. Quite flattered, actually.”

“You’re such a dick.” 

He leaned over to whisper in your ear even though you were sitting right next to each other and no one else could hear your conversation. “And I’ve heard I’ve got a pretty nice one too. What do you say we get out of here?”

-

You made it through most of the concert, you figured that might as well count as a whole date, right? It was the thought that counted. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care either way as Minho’s tongue traced the outline of your cunt. 

He was on his knees for you, holding you against the wall of his hotel room with your leg over his shoulder. You moaned softly and pulled at his hair, making him grunt into you. 

He paused for a second. You assumed it was to catch his breath but then he started talking. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t finish our date,” he murmured against your thigh, kissing it as further apology.

“No you’re not,” you laughed breathily. You knew there was nothing else he would rather be doing right now.

“I am,” he insisted, “I said I wanted to take you out on a real date, not just have sex, and I couldn’t even control myself for a few hours.”

“To be fair, we spent all day together,” you pointed out. 

“You know what I meant,” he sighed. 

“I know, and I believe you,” you said, ignoring Jisung’s words in the back of your mind. “It’s not like I didn’t want to do this too.” Minho pushed out his bottom lip, half pouting. “Do you want to stop?” you asked. 

“No, of course not,” he answered immediately. 

“Are you sure? We don’t have to keep going.”

Minho stood up and took your hand, pressing it against the bulge over his pants. “I don’t want to stop.”

You gulped. “Okay.”

He sank down to his knees again and lifted the skirt of your dress, motioning for you to hook your leg over his shoulder like you had earlier. You did, with a little noise of effort. You didn’t have the strength to stand on one foot for very long so you hoped Minho wouldn’t make you stay like that forever. 

“Good girl,” he praised, making your knees even weaker than they already were. “Fuck, you’re dripping. I’m sorry, baby.”

You didn’t realize he meant literally until you felt his tongue on the inside of your thigh. You shivered as he traveled higher and higher, collecting your arousal on his taste buds. He reached the apex of your thigh and moaned, sucking hard at the place just below your hip to punctuate the feat. 

“There we go. Wouldn’t want to make a mess on the hotel’s nice carpet, would we?” he asked breathlessly. 

You wanted to roll your eyes at his excuse. “You can just say you’re addicted to my pussy, it’s okay.”

“Fine. I’m addicted to your pussy.”

His head disappeared beneath your dress for the third time, and he was back at it like he had to prove what he’d admitted to, something you both already knew to be true. You trembled, hands flying to the back of his head to push him further into you, and he mumbled something that sounded encouraging but was unintelligible. 

You yelped as he pushed his tongue inside you, legs shaking. He lifted one of his hands and waved it in front of you, offering it for you to hold so that you could stabilize yourself... somewhat. 

You took it and squeezed hard, earning another eager sound from Minho. Having his hand helped a little, but not enough to get you to relax enough to where you felt like you could cum without falling over and breaking something. 

“I think-” you started, voice shaking, “I think I’m going to fall if you keep going.”

He resurfaced, looking a mix of disheveled and feral. 

“Wanna sit on my face?”

“I’d rather sit on something else,” you quipped, yanking him up by the collar of his shirt. 

He moved easily, despite him being much stronger than you. He simply wasn’t resisting. You pushed him onto the bed with one hand and climbed on top of him with a smirk. You hadn’t forgotten that he said he would be a good boy for you when you were at the movies earlier and you wondered just how far he was willing to actually take that. 

You had dommed plenty of lovers in the past but you hadn’t tested those waters with Minho yet, although it seemed that he was more than willing to adapt to this change of pace. He was already gazing at you longingly with those big brown eyes of his, allowing you to pin him to the bed. 

Your theory was all the more confirmed when he started talking. 

“I didn’t make you cum yet, though,” Minho whined, suppressing a moan as you grinded against him. 

“You’ll make me cum with your dick,” you assured him. 

“I wanted to with my mouth!”

“You always want to with your mouth.”

“Yeah, because you taste so good when you cum,” he panted. 

“If you want it that bad, you can eat me out after you fuck me.”

“But-”

“What happened to being a good boy?”

He went quiet at that and you were afraid you had misread the situation entirely until he let out a quiet, “sorry.”

“What was that?” you asked. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, a little louder this time. “I’ll be good for you.”

You smiled and began to unbutton his shirt.  “That’s what I like to hear.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄

PAIRING: DIETER BRAVO X WITCH!FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SUMMARY | Date a witch, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Tell that to Dieter, who’s currently strapped to the headboard by his wrists while he watches you light what seems like a thousand candles littered across every surface of your bedroom.

AUTHOR'S NOTE | Just a silly lil thing lightly based on this tik tok and enabled in large part by @pedgito and @chaotic-mystery.

ways to help palestine

WARNINGS | explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), porn without plot, established relationship, no use of y/n, able bodied reader, no physical descriptions of reader, use of restraints, sex magic/sex rituals, some dom/sub dynamics, praise, dirty talk, woman on top, oral (m and f receiving), sixty-nine position, unprotected p in v. kindly let me know if i've missed any!

Date a witch, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

Tell that to Dieter, who’s currently strapped to the headboard by his wrists while he watches you light what seems like a thousand candles littered across every surface of your bedroom. You’re wearing one of those dramatic robes, the sheer kind that flows to the floor with feathers around the wrists and collar. It reminds him of something he’d see in a movie, worn by a woman holding a candelabra as she runs from the ghosts of her mistakes through a dark castle. 

You finally finish with the candles, blowing out the match pinched between your fingers. The room is bathed in a warm glow and the temperature has kicked up a few notches, sweat forming on Dieter’s brow. He watches you pull at the string holding the robe closed, the fabric falling to the floor and revealing your mouth watering choice of lingerie.

“Damn,” Dieter breathes, craning his head to look at you. A sultry smile tilts your lips.

“Ready to begin?” You ask. Dieter blinks.

“I’ve been ready, baby,” he replies with a wiggle of his brows, glancing at the prominent bulge in his boxers. 

“That comes later.”

“It sure does.”

“Dieter, this isn’t the time for jokes.”

“I never joke about my dick.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Taking what seriously, it’s just sex. We do it all the time.”

“This is a sex ritual, Dieter.”

“A ritual? That’s what the candles are for?” He looks around the room nervously. “Are you about to sacrifice me or some shit?”

“Why, are you offering?” When Dieter pulls at the restraints in a panic, you laugh. “No, it’s not a sacrifice. We’re just enhancing our cosmic energy.”

“Cosmic energy, huh? Sounds kinda cool,” he says, relaxing back against the cool silk sheets. “Alright, I’m in.”

You climb up onto the mattress, throwing a leg over his waist and settling your weight on his hips. Your ass grazes the sensitive tip of his cock in the process and he hisses at the sensation. You drag your nails down his chest, goosebumps erupting in their wake. You press your palms to his chest, your head dropping back as you hum, rocking your hips the slightest bit. Dieter pulls on the restraints, desperate to touch you.

“Settle down, baby,” you coo, lifting your head. “Just relax.”

“Wanna touch you,” he whines, flexing his hips. You click your tongue, leaning forward and sticking your hand beneath the pillow beside his head and pulling out a tube of lipstick. “There’s hidden props?”

“Yes, now hush. I have to concentrate,” you admonish. You uncap the gold tube, slicking the red cream on your lips. You bring it down to his chest, drawing lines and swirls across his skin. Satisfied, you cap the tube and lean forward, pressing a lingering kiss to his neck right over his pulse. Your hand spans his jaw, tilting his lips to yours in a kiss that makes his toes curl. 

You pull away, lifting off of him to stand beside the bed. Slowly, you peel the fabric of your panties down your thighs, followed by a tantalizing show of unhooking your bra and adding it to the heap on the floor. When you’re fully nude, you move to the foot of the bed, reaching up and curling your fingers beneath the elastic of his boxers and dragging them down his legs. His cock bobs free of its confines, standing proud with a shiny bead of precum gathered at the tip.

With both of you bare, you crawl onto the bed between his legs, hands on his thighs. His breathing has become ragged with the sensuality of it all. You look like a goddess in the low light, eyes dark and curves a gift from Aphrodite herself.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” you murmur. “You’re going to eat my pussy while I suck your cock until I cum all over your stupidly handsome face. If you need anything, or to stop, snap your fingers three times. Okay?” Dieter nods his head, but you click your tongue in dissatisfaction. “Words, baby.”

“Yes, yeah, oui, sí,” he spits out. “Get your pussy up here.”

You maneuver yourself until your knees are on either side of his head and he gets treated to a front seat view of your gorgeous cunt and your heady aroma invades his senses. He wastes no time getting a taste, sliding his tongue through your slick folds with a hunger he hadn’t realized was so ravenous. He’s no stranger to your body, knows exactly how to make you shake with pleasure and gets his own joy from making you fall apart, but there’s something in the air tonight that gives him a single minded determination to make you cum as quickly as possible. 

You take him into the tight wet heat of your mouth and he groans against you, doubling his efforts to get you off. He wishes he could dig his fingers into your hips and hold you in place over his tongue but as it is, he’s a tool for your pleasure and you’re free to chase it as you see fit, grinding against his face and tongue to your own rhythm. 

Pressure begins to build and he whines, hips flexing and forcing his cock into your throat. You take the intrusion in stride, no small feat if he does say so himself, but you lift off for a deep breath that ends in a moan as he sucks your clit between his lips.

“Just like that,” you whimper. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Dieter does it again but adds his tongue into the mix, sending you over the edge. Your thighs tighten around his head and a glorious shout of his name echoes through the room. You lift your leg over his head and move to straddle his hips, positioning yourself over his cock and slowly sinking down his length with your mouth dropped open in a gasp.

You’re a mess above him, with lipstick smears across your skin and your lips swollen from being wrapped around his cock moments before. He’s mesmerized by the sight of you and drunk on the taste of you, but nothing is better than the tight heat of you enveloping him, welcoming him into your body. When you start to roll your hips, he thinks you might be onto something with that cosmic energy because he’s fairly certain he’s looking up into the face of god.

You lean forward, kissing him with a desperation that he eagerly matches, tongue dancing with yours and teeth nipping at your lip. He flexes his hips beneath you, pounding into you with harsh thrusts that have you gasping against his mouth. 

“Feel so good,” you tell him, the praise murmured into his ear. You smooth a hand through his sweaty hair, tugging lightly on the strands. “Always fill me so perfectly.”

“Fuck,” he says, jaw clenched tight as his orgasm draws near. “Want me to fill you up, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moan, your hips meeting his harsh thrusts. He can’t hold back anymore and he groans with the force of his release, flooding your cunt as you pulse around him with your second orgasm. 

You collapse on top of him, both of you sticky with cooling sweat and trying to catch your breaths. He’s still so lost in his post-orgasm haze that he barely notices when you free his hands from the leather cuffs around his wrists but when he does, he’s quick to wrap his arms around you and bury his head against your neck.

Maybe they were right.

Dating a witch isn’t so bad, after all.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, please consider commenting or reblogging, I'd love to hear from you 💕. You can find more of my writing below:

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[lynethpearce]

AU: Agent John Juniper

"If all the world's a stage, let's set it on fire."

In the early stages of his acting career, John Juniper joined one of the Agency's espionage and counterintelligence units in the United States, with the goal of finally putting an end to Zor's global monopoly. Operating as an undercover agent, he specialized in information theft, infiltration, decrypting Zoraxis's communication channels, and manipulating them. This more subtle and "civilized" approach allowed him to dismantle Zor's plans without resorting to overly invasive methods or putting more agents or the operation at risk—beyond himself, of course. His role was to provide valuable information to the field team, including profiles, plans, files, and encrypted messages, thereby facilitating the work of those responsible for direct action.

At the beginning of his career as a spy, he was assigned to an Agency handler to be trained in the craft of espionage and receive continuous guidance throughout his missions. The unfortunate choice was former agent Gibson.

One of the few remnants of the Agency’s golden age in the fight against undercover operations and illicit activities during the Cold War (assuming the events of EYTD took place between 1960 and 1990), alongside Reginald Crane, though with a decade’s difference. Unlike Juniper, Gibson specialized in fieldwork, excelling in raiding enemy bases and dismantling operations from within, adopting a more aggressive approach. However, his career as a field agent ended after a severe injury during a failed operation against Zor. Since then, he had been relegated to handling duties, overseeing the Agency’s new recruits.

It wasn't necessary to mention that Gibson wasn't particularly thrilled about having to shape the Agency's new "guinea pig." Aside from his dissatisfaction with the way the Agency treated its personnel, the idea of supervising a rising Hollywood star led to more than a few preconceived judgments about the name "John Juniper." And most of them turned out to be spot on.

John was a character in himself. Charismatic, charming, sociable, and with a sharp wit... but, in Gibson's opinion, also a complete headache. Overconfident, arrogant, whiny, and egocentric. He talked incessantly, almost always slipping in references to his movies or contradicting Gibson during missions, challenging his authority on nearly everything. He didn't take his job as a spy seriously. Always grinning, always flashing a charming smile, or, more often, oozing an unbearable dose of sarcasm.

"This reminds me of the time I worked on the 'Masque of Red—"

"Focus on your mission, Juniper."

Until things got complicated, and that’s when Gibson finally understood why the Agency had set its sights on this second-rate actor in the first place. John Juniper's despotic and narcissistic personality would almost completely fade, giving way to the objectivity and composure of Agent Clover as soon as the objective came into play. He learned quickly, very quickly, and maintained the same efficiency in decision-making under pressure that he did in keeping a smile on his face for the public. His desire to stand out seemed to fuel his courage (or his lack of common sense) when facing imminent danger. John’s theatrical skills were his greatest asset in the field. Even in his humbler beginnings, with no technological support from the Agency, his ability to act and blend in was what propelled him to become a standout spy, earning more than one enemy in Zoraxis.

Although, in hand-to-hand combat, he left a lot to be desired.

"It was just luck—oh, oh, oh. Okay, Gibs. I admit it. You win. I was wrong. Ouch—Gibs, Gibs, Gibs, I give up, I give up, I GIVE UP!"

With the addition of smart masks to his repertoire, the balance seemed to tip even further in his favor, just as the telekinetic implant project was gaining momentum. These masks were designed to record, scan, store, and accurately replicate both the voices and appearances of those Juniper interacted with (individually, of course, but it was something). The rest depended on his acting, and with Juniper’s flawless performance, it became nearly impossible to distinguish the real person from the imposter. A true doppelgänger. This made it almost impossible for his enemies to identify him through his civilian identity.

He went on to adopt several identities to infiltrate Zoraxis: from workers and guards to allies, and even high-ranking members, such as The Fabricator (a role that earned her immediate hatred), and he even impersonated Gibson.

"Well, for starters, I DON'T sound like that."

"Of course you do."

As a result of these small successes, his relationship with Gibson improves exponentially. Gibson starts to value John’s strengths over his insufferable and idiotic attitude, becoming a sort of voice of reason—the only person in the Agency capable of tolerating him or bringing him to his senses. For his part, John views Gibson as his equal, someone capable enough to share the stage and bask in the spotlight. After all, what would an actor be without his loyal co-star, who accompanies him through every one of his adventures?

There would be no Clover without Gibson, that much is certain.

Things are going smoothly for both the Agency and the duo, until one afternoon, a letter bearing the Zoraxis logo arrives at John Juniper’s office, with a special invitation from Dr. Zor.

[venus-haze]

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? (Foxy Coltrane x Reader)

Summary: It’s Halloween, 1985, and your Little Red Riding Hood costume catches the attention of the Midnight Wolfman himself.

Note: Female (incredibly unhinged) reader. Foxy calls the reader “Red” because of the Halloween costume, not due to any physical descriptors. I've literally been working on this since February🫠 Anyway, this is for all the old man fuckers out there🖤 Except if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Discussions of canon typical violence. Sexually explicit content involving semi-public play, oral sex (m. receiving) and light roleplaying elements.

October 31, 1985

As soon as you walked into the bar up the road from your place, you immediately wanted to walk out. Having no other plans for Halloween night, you figured you could make the best of going solo. Wore a cute little costume to see where the night led you. Somehow you ended up in a bar where no one else was dressed up for the holiday that called for it. At least, not to the extent you were. Sure, it was a mass-produced Little Red Riding Hood costume you bought on your way home from work, but you made it your own with some makeup and cute heels you dug out of your closet.

You trudged over to the bar, soon nursing your drink and your hurt feelings. With your lip pouted in a slight sulk, you looked around, hoping to catch someone’s attention. Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a man approached. Dark eyes locked on you. Sly grin on his face. Older, handsome in a scruffy way that your friends always teased you for being into.

You craned your neck to look up at him from your barstool. He sure as hell had that going for him too.

“I dig your costume, Little Red.”

You smiled. “Thanks. Seems like I’m the only one here who got the memo that it’s Halloween.”

“Hell, Halloween is everyday for me,” he said.

“You got a name?”

“You can call me the Midnight Wolfman.” He threw his head back and bellowed out a howl.

Your eyes widened. Heart might’ve skipped a beat. 

Shouts and cheers punctuated the sound, a few of the bar patrons following his lead with weak howls of their own. 

He was probably crazy. Or drunk. Likely both. But fuck, why else would you have gone out on Halloween?

“Buy me a drink, Wolfman?” 

“Glad to, Red.” 

He sat down at the stool next to you, long legs splayed out as one of his boots rested between your heels on your footrest. He claimed your space so easily, you nearly forgot you’d only just met him.

Two shared shots of whiskey later, your face was warm as he leaned in to talk. His easy drawl lured you closer, knees touching, close enough that you could see yourself in his steel blue gaze. You nearly suggested finding a booth to squeeze into. 

Your mind raced with visions of him pulling you onto his lap, his big hands all over you, lips attached to your neck while the other bar patrons were none the wiser.

“Most people call me Foxy, though,” he said.

You furrowed your brows, hoping you hadn’t been fantasizing through too much of the conversation. “Foxy?”

“That’s my name. Winslow Foxworth Coltrane.”

“I like it. Sounds like an F. Scott Fitzgerald character or something.”

“Who’s that?”

“He wrote The Great Gatsby.”

“Oh yeah, I saw that one, had Redford in it. Kind of a snoozefest if you ask me. I mean, hard to follow up Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” he said. “What kind of movies are you into, Red?”

“I love horror, especially the gory shit,” you said before you could think twice. 

He grinned, giving you a nod of approval. “Right on.”

“My favorite is probably The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Have you seen that one?”

“Yeah, it was great. Reminds me of my family.”

You laughed. “No kidding.”

His smile wavered, and for the first time all night it felt like you two weren’t on the same wavelength. Had you missed something in your half-drunk stupor? Was there something he mentioned that you fantasized through?

“Um, how about you?” you asked, trying to salvage the connection. “Westerns?”

“I’m into the classics, like those old monster movies.”

“Well, you’re way more handsome than Lon Chaney, Wolfman.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m the real deal, baby.”

“I believe it.”

“Yeah?”

You licked your lips. “With a howl like yours? Makes a girl think you could eat her alive.”

“C’mere,” he growled, pulling you to him. 

His lips were on yours, wild and passionate that would keep you up the rest of the night even if nothing else happened. The way he had his hands on you, though, bringing you closer to him, deepening the kiss so you could taste the whiskey on his tongue, the very same he bought you, made you certain he wanted the night to end exactly the same way you did.

He pawed at your ass, his hands pushing up your short, red, satin skirt until your panties peaked out. You moaned when his fingers brushed the wet spot on the fabric, pushing against your clit. Fuck the notion of a getting busy in a back booth, you were ready to let him take you up against the bar if you weren’t so rudely interrupted.

“Hey, c’mon,” the bartender said, looking equally disturbed and exasperated. “You guys can’t—”

Foxy slammed his palm onto the bar, nearby glasses rattling on impact. “Motherfucker, if you don’t get out of my girl’s face I’ll crack your skull open.”

A smile twitched across your lips.

“Get out before I call the cops. Both of you.”

Foxy stood up. “Think I’m scared of some fuckin’ pigs?” Grabbed a nearby beer bottle and smashed it against the bar. Before you could blink, the jagged edge was pressed against the bartender’s throat. If anyone noticed what was going on, they sure as hell weren’t trying to intervene. “By the time they get here I could gut you like a fish.” 

A delirious thrill rolled down your spine at the gleam in Foxy’s eyes. 

“Look man, you—you don’t even have to pay for the drinks. Just go, alright?”

Deathly silence fell over the altercation, the bartender glancing between Foxy’s wild face and the broken bottle.

Do it, a dark, repressed part of you, ravenous for blood, hissed.

Foxy laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a fuckin’ pussy, man.” He threw his arm around you, letting the broken bottle shatter on the floor as he led you out.

“Don’t come back!”

“I wouldn’t shit here if I ate a gas station hot dog, asshole,” he shouted over his shoulder.

You pulled your polyester cloak a little tighter when you walked outside. Damn, you and Foxy probably looked like one hell of a pair to the people just getting to the bar.

The two of you stood in the middle of the parking lot while he lit a cigarette. “I don’t eat gas station hot dogs if I can help it. Give me indigestion. My ol’ man—well, adopted ol’ man—he used to make a mean fried chicken at his gas station,” he said, taking a drag. “Get a hankering for the stuff sometimes, and KFC sure as hell doesn’t cut it. Guess Colonel Sanders’ get-up is better than dressing like a clown, though.”

You interjected his rambling, “You would’ve done it, wouldn’t you? The bartender—”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time.” He stared you down, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He took a long drag, smoke rolling from his lips and circling above his head as he asked, “You afraid of the big bad Wolfman, Red?”

“Terrified.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Then show me.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Mine. Yours. I don’t know—I need you, Foxy.” Your voice neared a whine. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Say that again.”

“I need you.” You tugged on his shirt. “Foxy, c’mon.”

“Yours. I can’t drive at night for shit.”

You grabbed him by the arm, practically pulling him over to your car. 

Jamming the key into the lock, you couldn’t open the driver’s side door fast enough, quickly unlocking the passenger door for him. Your hands would’ve been shaking if you weren’t gripping the steering wheel within an inch of your life as you peeled out of the parking lot the moment he finished adjusting the seat, moving it as far back as it could go to accommodate his long legs. 

“Mind if I turn on the radio?” Foxy asked.

“Sure. I don’t live far, though. Should only be ten minutes.”

He fiddled with the stations until a late night news broadcast mentioned the name Otis Driftwood. He paused before sitting back.

“‘Free the Three’ demonstrations in support of the notorious Devil’s Rejects death cult continue well into the night.”

The reporter detailed the Fireflys’ crimes, as if anyone could have missed them. Hundreds of gruesome murders to their names. You, just like everyone else in America, had been glued to the story when it broke. All work practically came to a halt when their trials were going on, obvious guilty verdicts amidst a media circus.

“What do you think of ‘em?” Foxy asked, breaking the silence.

“The Fireflys?”

“Yeah.”

You glanced at him, tearing your eyes off the road for a moment to gauge how he’d react to your answer. “I guess what they did is fucked up, but the police and military have done way worse. Like, Otis Driftwood never dropped nukes on entire cities,” you said. “Why?”

“That’s my family.”

“Really?”

“Well, Otis is my half-brother. The rest of ‘em are all adopted.”

You looked at him again. Then the road. Then him in disbelief. “Then you—“

“Told you I was the real deal, sweetheart.”

“Why didn’t you get caught?”

“I was already in the can. Crazy how that shit happens, huh?”

You hit the gas, accelerating from 50 to 85 in a flash. No cops. Didn’t matter. Foxy could handle them if there were. You pressed your thighs together. Almost considered pulling over and just fucking in the backseat. But where was the fun in that? The excitement? The vulnerability of letting a killer into your home, where you’re supposed to be safe, and hoping to god he wouldn’t see your kitchen knives and get some bright ideas? You moaned. Oh god. You moaned.

“Red?”

“I know, Foxy. I’m going as fast as I can.” Your voice was whiny, high-pitched, desperate. “Piece of shit car—”

He grinned, shaking his head. “You’re nuts.”

“Is that a turn off?”

“Hell no.”

——

You nearly dropped your keys by the time you unlocked the door to your apartment, Foxy feeling you up from behind while you fumbled with them, obviously amused by your racing pulse and trembling hands.

“Cool place,” he said when he walked inside. “You got any roommates or—”

You pushed him against the front door, your mouth on his, desperate, hungry for anything he’d give you. Slipping your hand between your bodies, you cupped the bulge in his jeans. He groaned into your mouth, and you squeezed gently, feeling his cock strain against the rough denim.

“Don’t tease,” he growled.

“It’s only teasing if you don’t follow through.” You kneeled in front of him, moving to untie your cloak while he unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans.

“Wait,” he said, “leave the costume on.”

“Whatever you want, Wolfman.”

He pulled his cock from his boxers, big enough to be intimidating at first glance. But he was a killer, part of the Firefly clan, for god's sake, you wouldn't falter, instead mustering up the courage you had to even invite him home in the first place.

“My, what a big cock you have,” you teased, taking it in your hand, spreading the precum at his tip with your thumb while slowly pumping his length.

“All the better to fuck that pretty mouth with, Red.”

You licked your lips, holding eye contact with him as you took him in your mouth. Something primal about him, inherently dangerous. He’d killed people before, probably done far worse. Could change his mind at any time and cause you a world of hell. You pressed your thighs together, trying to ignore the ache in your core for hopes he’d take care of it if you did a good enough job. With the way he dug his fingers into your scalp, loud curses and praises falling from his mouth, you weren’t doing half bad.

“Midnight Wolfman’s got you right where he wants you, huh, Red? Turned you into his little bitch?” he taunted. “C’mon, gimme a howl.”

You whined around his cock, choking a bit when he thrust in your mouth. You liked this version of the story a hell of a lot better. No one to save you. Just you, in your Little Red Riding Hood costume, and the wolf, his crooked teeth bared as he hissed through them, grinning down at you. And you brought him there. Invited him into your home knowing he could tear you apart if he wanted to—maybe you wanted him to.

“You’re a good slut, ain’t you?” He groaned. His cock twitched in your mouth, you could feel the salty taste of him on your tongue as he came with a howl. “Take it all, Red—fuck, take it.” As if you had much of a choice but to swallow, but his praise went to your head, to your pussy. “Fuck, you’re like a dream come true.”

Pulling back, sitting on your heels, you looked up at him with a newfound predatory gleam in your eye as he caught his breath.

“By the way,” you said, acutely aware of the wet ache between your thighs, “I live alone, if you wanna return the favor.”

[exhaustedpirate]

siri, play me a love song

my offering for day 2 of be my valentine 2025 i started thinking of love songs and decides to give yall the quadruple double date we deserve to see on screen! bucktommy, bathena, madney and henren all stuffed into a bar booth! enjoy!

rated G | 1767 words also on AO3

Their laughter is almost as loud as the music playing at the badge and ladder bar.

It’s a good thing it’s a quiet weeknight or else they would probably get kicked out. Although, he’d guess having five firefighters, one police officer, one dispatcher and a rocket scientist on a quadruple double date is good for business.

“It was like that movie with the bus, Tommy!” 

So maybe Buck is being the loudest. Whatever, he’ll leave a big tip later.

“Do you mean ‘Speed’?” Tommy is endlessly fond, his hand finding Buck’s thigh under the table and he is trying not to actually melt in the leather seat of the booth.

“I’m just proud that he actually watched the movie, Tommy,” Chimney points out, ignoring Buck’s eye roll and pointing at him with a french fry. “This guy didn’t know who Rambo was!”

Tommy turns to him with wide shocked eyes while Chim eats his french fry with satisfaction. Buck bites his lip with a fake innocent expression as Bobby laughs.

“In his defense,” Maddie interjects, nudging Chim’s side. “He spent his teenage years jumping off bikes and falling down trees to focus on movies.”

That does not make Tommy less shocked. On the contrary. “Evan.”

“That is not helping, Maddie.” He says through his teeth towards his sister.

Maddie shrugs, as if her objective hadn’t really been to help and shares a high-five with her husband without looking. Traitor.

“What about that drunk driver with the head wound?” Hen points out, sitting back on the booth with an arm over the back of her wife’s shoulders and holding a cider. “Our Buckaroo went after him on a bicycle and stopped right in front of the car.”

“Evan.”

“In my defense,” Buck holds up his hands. “He had kidnapped Chimney.”

“I thought I was gonna have to give your sister bad news.” Chim’s expression is slightly traumatised and Maddie rubs his chest fondly.

“Don’t think we all forgot the time you climbed a construction crane when there was a sniper targeting firefighters on the loose, Buckley.” Athena’s gaze is piercing and Buck feels himself blushing under the intensity.

“Or that time you almost took a bowling ball to the face and fell off a ladder when we got that call to the hoarder house.” Hen adds and Buck groans.

“You really are a trouble magnet,” Tommy’s tone is amazed but also very concerned. His hand unconsciously tightens on Buck’s thigh. “Maybe I should wrap you in bubble wrap, keep you out of trouble.”

Everyone laughs. 

“I don’t think even a padded room could keep him out of trouble.” Maddie teases, sticking her tongue out in response to her brother’s stuck out tongue.

“In Buck’s actual defense,” Bobby interrupts the laughter with a soft smile at Buck. “He has good instincts. He can seem impulsive but a lot of the time, he has a plan, he knows how to do his job and he is good at it.”

“And he has a great team to help him out when the plan doesn’t go his way.” Karen adds with a grin, patting Buck’s shoulder.

Tommy’s hand on his thigh rubs softly up and down his knee, taking Buck away from thoughts of the crushing weight and the pain from that day. Tommy knew about that accident, Buck finally confessing after a day of excruciating pain. Just the faintest touch of his hand reminded him of the care Tommy had massaged into his aching muscles after he finished the story.

“That is true,” Tommy murmurs and Buck has to keep himself from tracing his smile with his mouth. “At least I know that there are people keeping you safe when I’m not there.”

“Yeah.” Buck nods and really, he has drunk too much to keep the heart eyes from his face.

Hen groans. “I forgot how obnoxious the honeymoon phase was.”

Buck breaks their eye contact to stick his tongue out at his friend but leans against Tommy’s side because he can. 

“It’s been three months, Hen,” Athena points out, her smile softening as she looks at them - it feels a lot like approval. “Give them time.” 

They all laugh and Buck should be embarrassed or upset but Tommy kisses his birthmark before putting his arm around his shoulders. How can he be anything but happy when he fits so perfectly in his boyfriend’s arms?

Maddie gasps loudly and everyone turns to find her gripping Chim’s arm. All sorts of emergencies flash behind Buck’s drunk mind before the couple looks at each other and exclaims. “It’s our song!”

There’s a wave of confusion before they all recognise the song playing at the bar as “Islands in the Stream” - Maddie and Chim’s go-to karaoke song. They all groan good-naturedly.

The couple sings together what is left of the song, uncaring for everyone’s put-upon annoyance as it turns to amusement. They finish with a flourish and a kiss, Buck joins on the clapping but his focus isn’t on the married couple in front of him, it’s on Tommy.

His boyfriend’s face crinkles with his happy smile, his eyes shine as they focus on his oldest friend and his wife, his hand tightens its hold on Buck’s shoulder. There is a yearning in his expression and Buck remembers the way he had smiled when Tommy found him setting the table with candles and flowers the month prior. 

Tommy likes rom-coms. He is a romantic. 

Buck likes romance too.

“You two are worse than these two.” Hen teases, gesturing with her glass towards where Buck is shifting in his seat so he can snuggle closer.

“You’re just bitter you don’t have a song, my friend.” Chim smirks at Maddie’s nudge but Hen only raises an eyebrow.

“We have a song, it’s ‘Crimson and Clover’.” 

“That is not our song.” Karen’s quick denial interrupts Hen’s smug look who looks surprised at her wife.

“What do you mean? It was playing on our first date.” 

Tommy’s chest moves with his chuckle and Buck lays a hand on his thigh, the hand on his shoulder moving slowly up and down. Warm.

“Yeah, the first date we were both tricked into going.” Karen turns accusing eyes towards Chim who does not look ashamed at all.

“Oh, Howie,” Tommy laughs. “You pulled a double bluff on them?”

“Tommy, my friend, I did more than that.” Chim grins proudly, taking a sip of his drink.

“Wha-”

“Not the point, Thomas,” Hen interrupts, glaring at a nonplussed Chim.

“No, the point is,” Karen brings everyone’s attention back to her. “Our song is ‘You are the Reason’ by Callum Scott.” Her eyes pierce into her wife’s like she’s expecting a reaction.

From the way Karen smiles pleased at the way Hen’s confused frown turns into a soft loving smile and the way they kiss each other, it must be the right reaction. Buck wonders what goes through Hen’s mind when she thinks of that song. 

“I can’t believe I forgot the cardinal rule of marriage,” Hen says in a self-chastising tone that doesn’t match the soft smile on her lips. “The wife is always right.”

“Hell yeah,” Karen grins, pulling Hen for a bigger kiss to everyone’s amusement.

Tommy lets out a sigh as he comes down from his laughter and Buck’s hand runs slowly up and down his thigh. His boyfriend pulls him closer, laying his free hand on top of Buck’s.

The way Bobby smiles at Athena brings a twinge of longing into Buck’s chest as he interlocks his fingers with Tommy’s. It brings his curiosity out.

“What about you, Bobby? Do you two have a song?”

Bobby smiles, a soft bashful thing and puts his hand over where he and his wife hold hands over the table.

“‘Can’t help falling in love’,” Athena’s voice surprises everyone as they all turn to her smirking face. “We danced to it at our wedding.”

Bobby’s smile turns soft in a way that Buck recognises in his own face whenever Tommy smiles at him. The older man brings his wife’s hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it and Athena’s face turns impossibly softer. 

“Like Hen said, the wife is always right.”

Athena winks at the table before glancing at where Hen’s mouth is still parted in shock. The police sergeant scoffs, shifting so she is plastered to her husband.

“Don’t look so surprised, Henrietta, I can be romantic.”

Bobby laughs and Hen joins with raised hands. Tommy’s hand tightens against his and Buck looks up to see the yearning again and he can’t help but feel it in his chest too.

He wants to dance with Tommy to a song all of their own. He wants to think of those times when he hears their song. He wants.

“What about you two?” 

Maddie’s voice brings his eyes to hers and everyone else’s to him and Tommy. Maybe he got a little too distracted.

“What?”

She chuckles knowingly. “Do you two have a song?”

Buck is caught off guard. He shouldn’t be, of course, they had been talking about it. But he had been lost in thought - lost in thoughts of dancing with his boyfriend, maybe forever.

Tommy seems surprised too and maybe that helps. “Oh, I don- I don’t think-”

“‘Conquer the Heart’.” Buck interrupts, looking up at Tommy.

Tommy’s eyes widen as he looks down at him. He wonders what is going through his mind.

Is he thinking about that time at the bar in WeHo? Where they played that song and Buck had pulled Tommy onto the dance floor? Or is he thinking about that time a few days later? When Buck put on the song while they were cleaning up after dinner and their smirks turned into a makeout session against the kitchen counter? Or is thinking about the time they actually held each other in the privacy of Tommy’s living room and danced together?

All of the above?

Tommy smiles, a bright smile that makes Buck’s heart do a million flips and loops in his chest. He has a second to prepare himself for the breathtaking kiss his boyfriend gives him. No complaints. 

“Yup,” Tommy agrees, his eyes twinkling with affection and gratitude and Buck doesn’t think he got his breath back yet. “That’s the one.”

Buck pulls Tommy back in for a kiss, trying to steal back the breath he took, and does not care when all the good-natured groaning is turned on them.

Maybe he knows exactly what goes through Hen’s mind when she thinks of her and Karen’s song. It goes through his too.