#u kno what? i miss this show

[hotdadlicense]

CAHILL: are you homeless? RIGGS: hey! no, i got a trailer up the ways. not a lot of people, which is great, but no washing machine.

LETHAL WEAPON 1.04 — there goes the neighborhood

[killa-trav]

morning yesterday was soooo exhausting being sleep deprived n seb posting was fun (until i started to feel delirious) n i was expecting today to be the same n then i remembered sebtent is over :((

[bylertruther]

not to be a bitch but it's so funny how most henry stans just like. totally ignore everything to do with will as if this show doesn't exist all because henry went after him and refused to let him go. as if will is not his perfect character foil. as if it's not all leading to what happened in the upside down and how the only stories left to learn are those of will and henry. like... . .. ok. this is me, ur resident gatekeeper, officially snatching away their stanning licenses until they pass their necessary continuing education courses aka rewatch the show 🤨

[planetdream]

AN EVENING IN THE WOODS !

CHARACTERS ! werewolf!bang chan, human!reader

GENRE ! horror/thriller but barely, smut [minors dni]

WORDS ! 3.3k

SYNOPSIS ! on a drunken game night, you're dared to take a little stroll through the woods after rumors of a werewolf lurking through the town.

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! more thriller than horror i think. mentions of alcohol. being chased/stalked; mentions of being 'kept'. reader desc. wearing long skirt + called 'good girl'. smut [dubcon(?)—reader is basically being used. d/s dynamics—predator versus prey. possessiveness. [rough] sex in the woods. monsterfucking ig. large cock channie <3. pussy eating. facefucking. cumplay + creampie. belly bulge oops. dumbification(?) growling..] used the word 'beast' a lot oops. it gets weird idk

💌 ngl...i think i forgot how to write smut u guys... this is partially inspired by a brief part in house of leaves by mark z. danielewski, but like, not really at all iykyk. anyway, as u kno, i always appreciate feedback <3

There’s a big difference between vampire hunters and werewolf hunters. The creatures are different from each other in both ferocity and nature; thus, the study and hunt of them will differ based on several factors. Hunters of said creatures are expected to know what to do in situations in which they are faced with such foul beasts. You, quite frankly, are neither a vampire nor a werewolf hunter. Inexperienced to the point where you couldn’t begin to imagine what you would do if faced with anything that is such a monstrous terror, let alone a werewolf. Yet, here you are, prancing around the cold forest like a delicious piece of meat, praying that you don’t cross paths with anything—man or beast.

About a month ago, men and women alike began disappearing from town in the late hours of the night, not to be seen or heard from again. In the following weeks, numbers of missing people have only risen, leading many to believe that there might be a serial killer on the loose. That, however, was only until word got around that a town drunkard had seen what he could only describe as a ‘terrifyingly large rabid dog’. ‘It had to be about six feet tall just standing there’, he said, swearing solemnly, even vowing to quit drinking in an effort to portray his seriousness. The man wept, “It was one of them werewolves. I swear by it.” 

Only from there did word travel through the town. Though, no one believed the drunk old man, laughing at his testimony—‘A werewolf? In this town? That’s impossible’—some treating it as some fable, or a game, even. Which is what leads to you, alone, in the woods tonight. A fun game of truth or dare with your friends—being a chronic truth picker, tonight (with a little liquid courage) you decide that you want nothing but to humor your associates, you chose dare—turns into you blindly making your way into the dark forest with nothing but a lamp, pocket knife, and a few neon stickers to help you make your way back; and that’s only if you’re not murdered. 

By the looks of it, the surrounding forest is empty. The only sounds come from the rustling of tree leaves mingling together due to the wind, the sounds of birds squawking in the far distance, and the snapping and crunching of twigs and leaves beneath your shoes. You trek your way through the trees and dirt extremely unnerved. Nothing has happened at all, and although you’re thankfully still alive and breathing, making your way through the clutter of trees and dead wood, you cannot help but be a bit frightened about the dreariness and uncertainty of the situation. 

It’s a cold night, predicted to snow a bit; temperature dropping lower and lower with each hour that falls. The sun had set a while ago and the purple-orange hue leftover has now faded from blue into black. And while the stars are beginning to show themselves—pristine and beautiful—the dark sky only adds to the dreariness of your walk through the forest. The sudden additional silence is eerie, nature has stilled completely. Although the echo of stillness is inexplicable, unusual; it comforts you—knowing that you would hear your assailant coming, should you come close to being attacked. 

When looking at your watch, you find that you’ve only been in the forest for fifteen of the required thirty minutes—it’s very possible that you can go the distance, turning on your heels and deciding to make your fifteen minute walk back to the edge of the dark forest; and most importantly, to safety. After all, your friends must be worried about you by now; maybe even surprised that you’ve really stuck to the dare. In a matter of minutes, this will be all over and you will be resting at home.

You had to have been walking in one straight direction, right? Maybe because it’s dark, and you, admittedly, have drunk quite a bit, but the placemarkers you remember sticking to the trees along your path are nowhere to be found. The light of your lamp shines against tree after tree, but they remain in their natural state, unchanged. Your eyes widen, heartbeat increasing as you look at the leftover placemarkers you hold in your hand, only six remaining of your original twenty—so you know you’ve used them. 

You stop in your tracks, not willing to venture any further than you already have. Mind racing, scanning and assessing all the possible things you can do, slowly slipping into a panic. You could scream as loud as you can, vocally expressing your need for rescue; but how likely is it that you’ll be heard, especially given how deep into this unchanging landscape you are. Perhaps you can continue walking ahead, only praying that you make your way out unharmed—after all, safety should have been just a fifteen minute walk ahead.

As you lift your foot a few centimeters off of the ground to make your first step, through the darkness of the forest and out of your peripherals, you swear you see a large shadow for just a split second—lurched over and next to a thick tree to your right. A chill runs down your spine and you shudder as you realize the presence of this creature; intimidating and dominant. Taking no chances, feet hitting the ground hard as you sprint through the woods, doing your best to escape this nightmare; real or otherwise. 

The action of running when you feel like you’re being chased, versus running because you are being chased, are quite similar. It’s all instinct, a gut feeling that you jump on, increased heart rate; it’s choosing to flee rather than to fight. The difference, in this moment, you realize, is the definite risk of getting caught. The consequences could prove to be unsatisfactory, at the very least, if you were to be caught by whatever it is that may be following after you. Although, looking behind, there’s nothing in sight—no sign of disaster nor danger. You continue along, albeit a lot slower than before, attempting to catch your breath a bit. Walking off trail just a bit to slow down and assess your next course of action. 

The snapping of a twig within your vicinity has you darting from the temporary hiding place. However, the predator is right on your trail, persisting in its hunt for flesh. You weave your way through the woods, brain firing off about escaping quickly without harm. The chase does not last long, though. One misstep taking you down, tumbling. Briefly, in your panic, you appear to meet eyes with the foul beast. Fear lodged in your throat, dry and brittle—crumbling into tiny little pieces that pester your insides like a million tiny beetles finding a dark, cavernous home. Stomach clenching, seizing as you cower in submission to your terror. Hands buried into the freshly fallen snow—previous footsteps already blanketed over and long gone. Never have you thought you would give up so easily; unsure if you’ve got it within you to fight back in the absolute worst case. 

Body stuck in place, paralyzed with fear once you hear the snow behind you crunch, a sign that the creature is inching closer to you. It’s like your life flashes before your eyes once you feel the snout of the creature pressed against the back of your neck, heat blowing against the back of your neck, followed by a short, deep snarl emitting from within the beast. The large presence behind you is undeniable. The way the creature towers over you is horrifying—a domineering and overbearing sense of power, exuding pride and strength in the form of body heat. It circles you, though you are too terrified to look towards it, despite the daring growl it emits. Heart racing, nearly about to jump out of your chest and run away itself. The creature begins to circle around you, and out of the corner of your eye you can see its feet—huge black paws. Oh great! You’ll be eaten alive. 

But then the feet of the beast turns into man, and slowly you raise your face to get a good look at its true face. He starts off as a blur initially, but the longer you look at him, the more recognizable he becomes. A face you’ve always seen lurking around town. Though despite the area being rather small, you’ve never formally interacted—only stared at each other from a distance then kept it moving. Tonight, however, you finally decided to walk up to him at the local bar whilst with friends, only for him to walk away without a word. ‘Oh, him? Yeah, Chan is just like that.’

“Mmm. What’s that smell?” Chan asks while humming. Arms caging you in against the tree as he presses his nose against your neck, right near a particularly sweet spot. “Smells heavenly. So sweet and delicious.” 

He continues to sniff you out, planting a small kiss to your neck before traveling lower, nose now pressed to the fabric of your clothing. Face pressed in between the valley of your breast, Chan takes a long, deep inhale. His eyes are closed as he pulls back, slightly smirking with clear contentment. Chan takes the material of your shirt pinched between his fingertips before tearing the shirt down the middle, groaning at your now exposed chest. His hands cup your tits, thumbs teasing at your nipples, as he runs his nose down the valley, before swiping back up with his tongue. 

Chan isn’t done, nose still pressed against your skin as he sinks down to his knees. Rough hands cupping your ass, squeezing, as he stops—nose pressed against your mound, breathing you in while trying to pull you closer, finally finding the source of that sweet, heavenly scent. He’s breathing heavily to the point that you can feel his hot breath against your skin through the thin material of your skirt; snarling as he takes in your scent. And he’s mumbling something down there—pussy hungry words about how fucking delectable you smell. Perfect to devour. 

Contrary to the petrifying circumstance, the rush of adrenaline you get in the moment is euphoric and exhilarating. Chan’s touch is hot against you, almost scorching, and leaves you wanting—no, needing more of him. 

He hikes up the long length of your skirt with ease, throwing your leg over his shoulder to force your hips towards his face, diving face first into your cunt. Tongue lapping up hungrily at your wetness, moaning and groaning without a care in the world as he gets the first taste of his meal. Plump lips sucking your clit, vibrating when he moans, causing you to shake and squirm, but Chan has a strong grip against you. He’s messy as he eats you—occasionally breaking free, not for air, but to spit against your cunt—as the lower half of his face is covered in your nectar; which he hopes never washes off, absolutely frenzied by your scent, cock hard and leaking cum, jumping at the thought of finally getting to fuck his cock into this sweet little cunt. 

While Chan is usually a patient man, having no problem in waiting—stalking his prey and then teasing them for hours upon hours on end—he finds himself struck with need. A particular need to feast. To fuck and destroy his prey. Days and days of stalking you, taunting you from afar, and you played right into his palm—obviously fated to be found afraid and lost, deep in his territory. It is at this point he thinks to keep you. Perhaps hide you away somewhere cold and dark where only he’d be able to find you. Keeping you bound to him until he gets sick of you—or until you cease to exist. Aching to fuck you over and over and over again until it becomes too difficult for you to even think about moving a muscle, succumbing fully to his torturous pleasure. He stops himself from thinking too far ahead all too soon, clearly entranced by the sweetness of your cunt. 

Chan springs to his feet; cock heavy, hard and curving to the right, tip swelling red with need and dripping with precum. Your eyes are glued to his cock as you watch him massage his right hand over it; even in his big palms his cock is huge. The excitement to take him spreads from the pit of your stomach and up your chest, visualizing into the form of goosebumps all over your arms. He just laughs at the look on your face; how equally intrigued and dismayed you appear. A perfect little lamb stalked and caught by the big bad wolf, unable to flee due to their own fascination despite their fright. 

Chan leans in, his lips against yours briefly. A hand curling into your hair to bring you down to your knees, you follow suit. His hand stays tangled in your hair, pulling harshly against your scalp. With his other hand, Chan strokes his cock, running his thumb over the tip; then pulling your head towards his tip. Eagerly, your tongue slips from your mouth, ready to taste everything he’s giving you. You swirl your tongue around him, but Chan has other plans, slowly sliding his cock into your mouth; helping you savor the slightly salty taste of his seed. Fixing your mouth open as wide as it can go, with both hands now tangled into your hair, he thrusts his cock in and out of your mouth, slowly increasing the speed of his thrust. 

“You just take it like a good girl, huh?” You don’t say anything, but that dazed look in your eye and the moan that escapes from deep in your throat tells Chan all he needs to know. 

“Perfect little mouth, but I bet that pussy is even better.” Chan frees his cock from your mouth with a trail of spit. His hand around his cock once again, the slick sound like music to your ears. Though, it’s at this point that the cold air is starting to get to you—the snow is light but still continuous—yet you power through it for just another taste of Chan. 

“Want you so bad,” You bite your lip, looking into his eyes, eyebrows furrowed together. You stand and stretch to turn your back to him, looking over your shoulder as you wiggle your backside towards him like a bitch in heat. Chan smirks at you, a small laugh erupting from him at the sight of your shamelessness.   

In the heat of the moment, Chan licks the palm of his hand before bringing it down to rub at your cunt from behind. He doesn’t say anything, but you can hear a long, deep snarl come from within his chest. The closer he gets to you, the louder the growl echoes, and the more he warms you with his body heat—caging you in against the tree. You grind into his hand, greedily taking anything he gives you. While Chan is steadily becoming just as impatient as you, he always spares time to play with his food; teasing the tip of his cock against your slit. Chan slowly slides into your cunt—a rough hand clenching onto your hip, nails digging into your skin; not nearly enough to keep him from losing his cool as your wetness encases his cock, wet and tight. 

You’re barely taking half of his dick before the stretch of it nearly becomes too much—but he’s one step ahead of you; arm snakes across your belly and down to your cunt, two wet fingers ready to play with your clit. Chan works his fingers against your clit slowly winding you up, all while planting a quick kiss against your shoulder; tongue drooling out to lick a long wet stripe against your neck. It’s only once he receives a moan from you in response that he starts thrusting into you slowly; the thrusts of his hips syncing with the movement of his fingers. 

It isn’t long before you’re taking more and more of his cock, being stuffed and stretched deliciously. Cunt leaking and begging for more of him. Chan lets out these harsh growls and grunts that contrast with the pitch of your moans. His nails dig into your hips, using a minimal amount of strength to pull your hips back against him, making you meet his thrusts. His hips smack against your ass roughly, cock stretching you further, but your cunt swallows every inch perfectly. That’s only until he slides out of you, wordless, yet, still letting out a snarl. He pushes you onto the ground, hands and knees crashing into the new layers of snow. You yelp out in response, but Chan can only laugh at you. 

“Just letting me push you around like this? I think I should keep you,” He follows you, kneeling onto the ground, cock in hand. Laying  a quick smack at your ass, he hums. “How would you feel about being my little plaything, huh?”

His free hand kneads against your ass while he plays with his cock. “Keep you locked up with me ‘n only let you out in these woods at night, hmm? All cute ‘n naked for me to hunt down and fuck again.”

“And you can’t even hide cause I’ll always find you, pretty.” He finally slides into your cunt, still not letting you have all of him, yet. “How does that sound? Do you like it?”

His words are filthy and so are his touches but somehow he’s got you entranced. You let out a loud, cracked sob of a yes in response to his inquiries as if he bullied it out of you. “Good girl.” 

Chan finally allows himself to break—hips snapping harshly into yours. Not caring if you go limp from the way he’s fucking into you, instead his hands are once again clenching your hips, grinding his hips against your ass whenever he thrusts his cock back into you. Your fists clutching onto the snow as you take his cock, unable to do much but drool and mewl for him. 

He presses his chest across your back, caging you onto the cold ground. His tongue once again flat against your skin, licking every inch of what exposed skin he has access to. Still pounding into you as he chases his impending orgasm. Then he sinks his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, letting out a whine rather than the usual growl as he fucks his cum into you. It’s hot, sticky, and heavy—and it seems like it’s unending; seemingly producing more and more as he pumps his cock into you. Slowly Chan reaches a hand down to press against your lower abdomen; feeling how your belly swells with all the cum his cock is feeding your cunt. 

You moan at the feeling when Chan pulls out of you with a sigh of exhaust. Cum coating his cock and spilling out of your cunt, staining your thighs. So much of his seed has spilled out and he’s no longer stuffing you with his cock, but yet you feel so full. Chan continues to incite, two thick fingers dip into your cunt to scoop up and play with the excess cum that’s dripping from your hole. 

Chan pulls you back to him by your arms, caging you against his chest. He whispers to you. “What if we played a fun little game, hm?”

He grips your chin and those same two digits that were once inside of you, force into your mouth, offering you another taste of Chan’s cum. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice, “Let’s say, I give you a ten second head start to run.”

Chan kisses the back of your neck and a chill runs down your spine. “The ten seconds start now.” 

He frees you from his hold, and springs to his feet leaving you dumbfounded. But by the time you stand and face the direction of Chan, legs weak and cold, he’s no longer there.

It seems his fun little game has officially started. 

© PLANETDREAM 2024

[highvern]

Ateez in Different NSFW Careers

Pairing: ot8

Genre: smut, 21+

Warnings: lots of sex, masturbating, porn, domination/submission, fetishes, lmk if i missed anything egregious

Note: this is an idea for a miniseries but idk and thought id put it out there to see if people are interested (dont bring up the ateez mixtape series, im working on it!) thank you @wingsofimagery @yessa-vie for listening to this brain rot

read more here

Hongjoong:

onlyfans creator, solos of him masturbating or nudes. weirdly artistic? like camera angles on point, edited to perfection, color graded. rarely, if ever, collabs with others. occasionally posts erotic photography of one unidentifiable woman. his subscribers aren't sure what to make of it but pictures of them together are some of his best work. daylights as a photographer and has some of his work in small galleries across the city.

Seunghwa:

amatuer porn star, makes homemade couple porn or something with a close female friend. domestic/bf vibes in every video. v soft with each other even when they're having rough sex. people assume they're actually dating bc of the insane chemistry even though they never show their faces. its his fun dirty little secret no one in the office knows.

Yunho:

boyfriend for hire. specializes in "turn your brain off for the night, i'll handle it." rent him to be your date to an event or just for a night on the town. doesn't always sleep with his client (his discretion) but usually cuddles and will spend the night. just trying to pay off his student loans since being an analyst pays shit. big yunho bc he has a big... u kno? and loves hearing the women he sleeps with rave about it. has had several repeat customers and older women that recommend him to their friends.

Yeosang:

audio erotica. just aside hobby for him. tbh 9/10 times forgets to record or that he even has the account. started bc a girl he was seeing freshman year of college told him she wanted a video with the sound on and he didn't know what that meant but she liked his voice enough to let the completely black screen slide. posts sporadically but always makes waves when he does. people have offered him money for custom audios and he always turns them down.

San:

fetish model. shibari, leather, latex. you name it, he's most likely modeled it. has portrait of himself (unrecongnizable, facing away just his back criss crossed with ropes, hands bound at the base of his spine) hanging in his apartment. his friends think its weird since they know he's the one in the picture but most of the girls he brings home just think he's into some freaky stuff. started bc he would nude model for the art classes at his college when he needed fast money for weed. people assume he likes really kinky sex bc of his job but he prefers vanilla sex most of the time bc his job is so kink heavy. works as a fitness instructor as his 9-5, and had a few people recognize him but most are cool and leave him alone

Mingi:

nsfw twitter creator. videos, pictures, sliding into dms. mingi does it all and enjoys the comments of people thirsting over him even if he's one dick among thousands. for his day job he works in a sex store and flirts with the exotic dancers who come in to buy their costumes (turned down every single time, there's even a pool for how quickly he'll strike out). the one girl that flirted back still lives in his brain rent free bc all she did was smile and he folded like origami. now when she comes in mingi has to remind himself not to drool.

Wooyoung:

cam boy brat, sugars on the side. likes being degraded by his audience when he's bad. lover of milfs, and has a sugar mommy he sees once a month. loves being wined and dined by her and then loved on at her fancy apartment uptown. started doing both in college to pay rent, now works at a dance studio and keeps it up bc the extra cash is nice. enamored with taking pictures during sex. has a collection of polaroids with his current FWB that he cherishes more than anything (always carries one in his phone case). toyed with the idea of having her come on his streams but he doesn't want to share. he should probably look into that more.

Jongho:

dungeon dom (IDK), the kind thats a look don't touch dom. if you need a session to work through your stress, go to him. sexy spanking, punishment spanking, therapy spanking. he's got the knowledge and know how. has a strange collection of vintage dvds and magazines. rare stuff that he treats like art rather than smut. jongho i never want to speak on your name im sorry

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[goldustwomun]

will we talk? (j.p.)

pairing: bodyguard! james potter x baker! reader

summary: it was only meant to be a one night stand-- a pretty fucking amazing one night stand, but one night nevertheless. so when your dad informs you of a bounty on your head and beloved bakery, you expect just about anyone in the world but james to show up as your newly appointed bodyguard. he doesn’t even fit in with the decor!

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, mentions of a sketchy job (drugs, arms, trafficking etc. u kno the drill w/ obscure mafia stuff), very very hot james xoxo

wc: 2.9k+

note: guess who’s back! (back back) back again! (again, again). anyway, hey :) i had random lines written for this for over a year & tbfh first yr of uni was great and then shit and then really shit so i had no desire to write, but i want to try!!! i really do!!! please, <3 comment & reblog <3 it means the world to me & literally every writer out there! excited for u all to read this :)

Some might say it’s obscene to be sat at a bar, three vodka cokes down, when it was only just past 7 o’clock. The sun still stared pointedly down outside the window, streets bustling with people only just starting their commute home. And sure, any other young adult might have used this opportunity to meet some friends, have a quiet night in, maybe text that one guy on Tinder they’d been putting off meeting– something, anything to fill the awkward lull in time that wouldn’t be too much of a regret the next day.

Some might say it’s obscene, but you like to think it’s just another Tuesday.

The problem with Tuesdays is that more often than not, Wednesdays tend to follow. And it was at noon on the dot that you’d have to make your forty-minute bus ride downtown (a mistake in itself when all anyone could smell was weed, piss and something else indistinguishably rancid), into the one office building that seemed to substantially out-tower the others like some sort of architectural pissing contest, only to sit in front of your Dad and his ever-overpowering bluntness.

And it’s not like you despised him with every molecule in your body– rather, a few molecules here and there. He loved you, that you were certain of, but owing anyone money, your own father especially, made relationships uncomfortable in a sticky, sweaty, clammy-hands kind-of-way. He had always been an immovable figure, suspiciously mafia-esque, even, but of course, you’d never dare broach the subject.

So, Dad, Pa, Father dearest– are the rumours true? Do you really run an underground boxing ring? Or is it arms? Drugs, maybe? As long as it’s not human trafficking, I’ll still love you!

Some things are better left untouched. If ignorance was bliss, you were determined to remain in whatever liminal state of unknowing you’d been in your entire life.

And while he kept to himself and you did to, the last Wednesday of every month, noon on the dot, was not to be messed with. You’d learned that the hard way when you’d missed one during a particularly harrowing cold. It’d been like a SWAT team smashing through your apartment windows when you’d forced her eyes open.

So instead, you gulped down another glass of scathing liquid, all but gagging near the end at the acidic taste of un-mixed liquor swirling around the bottom of your glass.

It was Tuesday, after all, and you hoped if you drank enough, there would be a chance you’d be able to zone out tomorrow– a sweet spot you’d yet to master (somewhere between mildly hungover but still coherent enough to please him).

“What is that– your fourth? Fifth?” A voice questioned alongside a scratch of the bar stool to your left. It was deep, curious, deliciously rough– enough so that your mouth quirked behind your glass, bracing yourself for the face attached to such an addictive timbre.

“Third, actually–” you turned, finally taking in the tousled, black hair, crooked nose with rounded glasses perched on top of them, “--have you been counting?”

He had a kind of all-consuming appearance. Dark yet boyish when you noticed how his smile leaned one way, and a slight chip in his front tooth. An athlete, maybe? You were going to thank whatever misguided angel, deity or God herself had brought him to you.

You didn’t make a habit out of chatting up posh-looking lads with egos that rivalled even that of Icarus and his melting wings, but maybe just this once you’d give in– actually take what’s being offered.

“Huh– dunno why you’re sounding so smug, love. Three drinks and it’s not even dinner time. Some might call that a problem.” Almost immediately that smile of his morphed into an all-knowing smirk, a teasing gleam swimming about in those swampy hazel eyes of his.

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Who? Eighteen year olds having a taste of their first legal drink? Not sure three drinks add up to literal alcoholism, love,” you threw back, defensive, accompanied by that kind of uppity tone in your voice you despised hearing in others’.

His irrefutable bemusement only sharpened the knife poking away between your ribs. Your frown deepened, and so did his grin, but still, his hands flew up in mock-defence as if your words could bite back (and boy, did you wish they could).

“My bad, sweetheart, only teasing,” he assured, nodding at the bartender and then your now-empty drink. Another one, his practised movements seemed to say,

“Do you make a habit out of calling girls alcoholics and then buying them a drink?” you asked, curiosity taking over your irritation.

He shrugged and you couldn’t help but follow the movement, watching as his broad shoulders seemed to invade your space with such careless effort. “So far, just you. It’s something new I’m trying out. What do ya’ think, is it working?” Again with that boyish charm– some sort of arrogance and humility all at once.

Your head shook in an immediate no, but more so to hide the smile that had unwillingly crept onto your face. You knew, with the way things were going, that you’d give into just about anything the man offered (of which he’d not even hinted at yet, but you were just so mesmerised and maybe a little tipsy so you didn’t quite care enough to think of how desperate you may be coming off).

“‘M James, by the way,” he offered as a white flag, a surrender, if you will. You accepted by returning the formality and raising your new drink to his own– a half-empty glass of clear liquid and ice.

“What is that?” you motioned to the beverage in question, “like– 10 shots of straight vodka at once?”

He snorted, a little ugly yet somehow endearingly attractive. Fuck. “Even better, actually– water.”

“And is that new as well, to go with the accusations and drinks?”

“Oh, yeah– I’m really trying to commit to this new year, new me thing,” he bounced back effortlessly.

“It’s November,” you deadpanned, brow arched.

“So I’m either a month and a bit early, or eleven late,” he quipped. You were stunned by the easy rhythm of your back and forth, wondering in what world someone like him could exist– a paragon of a man or whatever the scholars called it. “And while that’d be a fun little story if it were the truth, ‘m actually starting a job tomorrow. Big one, as well. Figured some self-restraint was in order.”

And it was only then that you’d noticed just how little space there was between the both of you, having somehow drifted closer, closer, closer like galaxies hurtling towards each other.

You all but swallowed, staring at his drink held between you, a last barrier that seemed both momentous and insignificant. He’d got you caged in as well, an arm lazing on your backrest, near enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin, blood, maybe even his desire. And his legs, in a somewhat similar position, only a whisper away from knocking into your own.

You considered giving in right then and there, urging his mouth to yours, maybe leading him to the restroom in a grungy stall you wouldn’t otherwise go near on even your worst, most wasted nights.

“Self-restraint with the drinks only, right?” you questioned, tearing your gaze from his glass to his eyes, only to find them already fixated to you. His mouth was perched open, a glide of his tongue against his bottom lip, and the action draws you closer to that chip in his tooth you’d noticed earlier– the one that begged you closer. For inspection, a taste– whatever.

“Oh, but of course. It’s my undoing really, my Achilles Heel, my Hubris,” he seemed to murmur, his words a secret between the two of you. You felt bold then, a rush of heat pouring through your veins as your palm came to rest on the thigh closest to you.

His eyes flickered down for a moment, as if making sure it was real — that touch — before they returned to you. Waiting, watching, with bated breath.

“What is?” you asked, questioning if you’d missed a part of his sentence or if he really was striking you speechless and a little stupid with his words.

“Pretty girls with drinking problems,” and you couldn’t help the surprised laugh that burst from you. He grinned and it was pure majesty.

“Yeah?” you mumbled, inching forward.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, sealing his mouth to yours.

It was bright, too bright in his office– like the ceiling lamps worked part-time in interrogation rooms on the weekends. As much as you needed to be alert, comprehensive, at least mildly sober– it just wasn’t going to happen.

Last night had been something else entirely– the kind of mind-blowing fuck you could only ever dream about, when nights were lonely and the left side of the bed cold for too long. Your memory was somewhat hazy, tinged red with lipstick and lovebites and kicking the duvet out of the way to reach more skin. It was scathing yet sweet and a kind of ruination you welcomed with open arms.

But it also ended abruptly when your eyes flickered open the next morning (a few hours later, more like) and he was already gone. You knew it was for the best– you barely had time for yourself, your family and friends, let alone a stranger with a quick (and skilled, in many ways) tongue and wit.

So there you were, jarred by the empty feeling seeping into your bones. And the lights (had you mentioned the lights?).

“Now, how have things been going this past month?” your Father asked in that all-business, no-nonsense way of his. You think he knows you’re hungover but like all things in your relationship, the two of you choose to ignore it.

“There haven’t been as many customers as I would have liked. The school down the road has been half empty since most of everyone is on study leave, but I–”

“I didn’t ask for excuses, only how it’s going,” he interrupted swiftly. A stabbing pain seemed to appear at the base of your skull as you conjured the remaining energy inside of you to not roll your eyes at your own Father, as well as the man you quite literally owed thousands of pounds to.

“Of course, my bad,” you bit out, taking a deep breath before continuing. “The shop wasn’t as successful as previous months but I’ve got the money here anyway so I’ll still be on track.”

He nodded, accepting your answer and the envelope you placed on his otherwise scarce desk in front of him, before he slid the money, unchecked, into his top drawer.

You sighed, hurrying your words and rushing to gather your things and be out of that dreary office, “Well, if that’s all, I’ve got some errands to run and–”

“--Actually, there’s more I need to discuss with you.” For the second time that day, he cut you off and you fell, defeated, back into the cold leather of the chair. You tilted your head in some sort of half-nod that said, go on.

With his hands clasped in front of him, a stern front if there ever was one, he continued. “As you know, my work is complicated–” (you frowned) “--complicated and expensive. And when one is dealing with the amount of money this company makes, things can get… messy.”

To say you were confused would be an understatement. An actual conversation, albeit clouded with obscurity, about his job? “And when things are messy, one tends to make enemies.”

You couldn’t help how your frown deepened, but you held back any concerns before they could make their way past the tip of your tongue. Your Dad wasn’t one to be interrupted, even if he was particularly talented at doing it to others.

“Essentially, there’s someone who’s not very happy with me–” your mouth opens finally to prod at his statement but he continues anyway, “--and despite every precaution I have taken in order to keep you safe and separate from my work, it’s unfortunately backfired this time around. And so, for your safety, I’ve hired a bodyguard to watch over you for at least the next few months.”

He finished and then there was a resolute silence hanging over you as you took in his words.

You couldn’t help it– you burst out laughing.

“Dad, you’re not– I mean–” the sentence barely made its way out of your mouth before you were overcome with a fit of nervous giggles once more. This is absurd. “You’re not being serious, you can’t be. Right?”

Silence.

Oh.

So that’s when the panic set in, your fingers clutching the armrest on either side of you until your knuckles were white. “Holy fucking–”

“Language,” he scolded with no particular bite and you couldn’t help but scoff,

“Language? Seriously, language. That’s all you have to say. You’ve just told me there’s some kind of bounty on my head and that I need a bodyguard– like, a person to follow me around, twenty four-seven, and carrying a gun or some shit– but all you can think to say to me is fucking language?!” Your breath came out in quick pants, jumping to your feet as you paced the office.

This must be a joke, you thought incredulously. You can’t have some stranger following you around. You had a business to run, croissants to sell, debt to pay off! Who could possibly–

And somehow it got worse.

He walked in and the two of your gazes connecting immediately, like magnets (though this time in a completely different context with your own Father as a member of the audience). You could see, from your place by the window, how his irises grew imperceptibly wider for barely a second as the recognition set in.

“No. No, no, no,” you blurted out immediately, mouth still wide from shock and suddenly you questioned whether your rapid heartbeat was a surprise or something close to a heart attack. Oddly, you’d have preferred the latter.

“Sweetheart,” he had pulled out the big guns now, “this is James Potter.”

“Dad—” you tried and failed to interrupt.

“Don’t worry about the logistics, I’ve sorted it all out. I’ve already rented the apartment next to yours so that he’s nearby at all times. He’ll need to be hired as an employee at your bakery– you know, for appearances sake— but don’t worry about the cost, i’ve got it covered.” Your mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish out of water.

“And most importantly, he is not to leave your side. Ever.” He said it with ease like he hadn’t just informed you that your one night stand had turned into your shadow for the foreseeable future.

James had yet to say anything, his face a facade you wished you could slap off in that moment. Instead, he stood stalk still, arms poised behind him like some sycophantic robot ready to do whatever your Father pleased.

“He can’t be my bodyguard, Dad,” you urged, rushing to his desk, palms slamming down in front of him.

His response was a raised brow (you shared that in common). “And why’s that?”

It’s like you could hear James’ heart skip a beat, probably because yours had as well. You couldn’t tell him the real reason– that’d be a death wish, for the pair of you, if there ever was one.

“It’s just– he’s too big!” James didn’t smile, not outwardly, but you could see it in his eyes when you glanced his way. “I mean, he’s scary or whatever. He won’t fit in with the decor and it’ll scare away the customers,” you reasoned.

He finally spoke and it was then that you truly did consider walking over and slapping him across his stupid, gorgeous face. “What customers?”

You scoffed, whipping your head towards him. “Oh, screw you!”

James looked as if he were going to bite back, mouth poised for a reaponse, but your Dad cut in to save the two of you from outting yourselves.

“That’s enough. This isn’t up for discussion. James is your bodyguard and you’ll have no say in the matter.”

You deflated immediately, collapsing into the same chair you’d sat in, clueless, earlier.

So much for one night.

comment & reblog :)) if u have any ideas for the next chapters do lmk!!! woo!!

[aihaitahm]

BLADE IS THE ONLY THING ON MY MIND RN CAN U PLS DO MODERN AU BLADE ON A LATE NIGHT MOTORCYCLE RIDE WITH READER I WOULD ACRUALLY DIE

modern au! various with gn! reader

my anons love blade 🙏ples dont die 😿 but i do not blame you at all i also want to add other chars in it too hope u dont mind anon<3

characters: blade, kafka, alhaitham

cw: suggestive. also im not really a tech person im sorry if i dont kno much abt motorcycles😭

biker! blade

you knew your boyfriend rode motorcycles and are a fan of it. you often bought him equipment during special occassions and he appreciates you for that. you found it really hot whenever he wore his gear and how majestic he looks whenever he removes his helmet, revealing his pretty face. you guys may or may not have done it on his motorbike.

he would try to convince you to ride with him. if youre scared he’d try to calm you down and drive in short distances. he loves the feeling of your fingers hugging his waist and feeling your warmth against him.

if you knew how to ride motorcycles, he would be very impressed and have fun with you. wouldnt be able to stop staring as you remove your helmet from your cute face. you suggested to match equipment and helmets but he was like “thats cringy” as he was picking matching equipment in the store with his cheeks going bright red.

hungry? need a snack or two? well thats when you usually both go out on late nights. its very peaceful and enjoys these rides with you more than anything else in the world. or when he wants to bring you to see the beautiful view of the city for your late night dates, this is a common occurence.

“what snack should we buy? something on your mind bladie?”

“you.”

“s-stop being cheesy. the light went green and focus on the road.”

model! kafka

you are her biggest fan. her only biggest fan!!!! you always go to her runway shows and you support her so much. she enjoys seeing you in the crowd and would maybe wink at you if she had the chance.

loves the privacy between you both. kafka can get easily burnt out if she has to be out for too long and paparazzi always up her ass. she recharges with you and she finds peace in you. would just lay in bed with you all day.

whenever she gets interviews, she always has the habit to mention you and to thank you. she really loves you afterall so you deserve it. she also goes pink when she talks about you and it is very noticeable on tv.

“ah my (name) always supports me and i love them the most.~ you should support them too!”

you are her personal photographer and she loves how you picture her. whether it was a serious picture or funny cute picture of her, she notices how you have multiple background themes just of her. she would return the favor too yk! would model you lingerie in private.

loves to dress you up or put makeup on you. would sit on your lap as she does your eyeshadow properly would kiss you on the nose if you stay still<3

would invite you to go on trips with her and would pay for you if needed. she is your /sugar mommy girlfriend after all and she would buy anything for you. or if you cant go, the type to bring you gifts home.

gamer! alhaitham

sorry… very self indulgent but he would play videogames to pass time or if they have interesting plots or characters. the type to hyperanalyze and make theories about the plots and be absolutely reasonable with them.

since he is known to always have headphones on, he usually would just play videogame music. LOL what a nerdy feeble scholar but anyway, he likes to listen to those while reading sometimes.

the type to play shirtless all the time. he notices you stare and would let you stare. he would tease you a lot too.

“you see something you like?”

“use your words.”

he doesnt rage but he does cuss under his breath and just groan. hes naturally good at everything so why cant he do this puzzle? he would ask for your help because sometimes, he misses on small details focusing only on the obvious ones.

loves when you watch him play or when you play together. he likes spending time with you even if you can be bad at games. he has an excuse to teach you. the type to put his hands over yours when hes trying to demonstrate something to you. (this is so hot i actually squealed >_<)

wouldnt neglect you if you ask him for attention! would pause the game and kiss you then resume. likes to place you on his lap and rest his chin on your head or shoulder while he is playing.

has a schedule with his books, studies/work, gaming and of course you. he does go out when his friends ask him though he’d rather bring you along because he misses you easily.

[rvspecter]

look at how he backs away in the first gif that's jessica asserting her dominance

when he says 'i can go' - the emptiest threat in the world btw and it's immediately shot down by jessica 'where r u gonna go'

'u'll be a winner but not a leader. and u won't have me' this is literally what happens s6+ when she leaves. harvey is not a leader. literally got pushed around by everyone. also i love how his response to that isn't to deny it but to bring up something else entirely

THE SEXIEST LINE OF THE SHOW. 'I KNO THEY SAID I COULDN'T CONTROL U. UR GONNA LEARN THAT I CAN'

DO U C HOW SEDUCTIVELY SHE SAID THAT LINE DO U C!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?

OH GAWD HOW DID I MISS HIM LICKING HIS LIPS THX @staybeautifulmp3

[rebouks]

hi becca! i was just curious, as a huge fan of your storytelling, do you have a method to how you do it? is that something you've talked about before on here i may have just missed? do you write everything out as a sort of script or just kind of go with the flow? i love hearing about how people create! i hope you have a wonderful day <3

ooooh what a fun question! and ty for being a fan too!! 😭🧡

i suppose i do have a method but it's a bit chaotic as i mostly work everything out as it happens and don't really plan ahead other than a few ideas or a direction i wanna go in u kno? like i have nothing written out for my next arc yet.. only a few ideas for a few scenes 😱 ideas do be forming tho! i may have a first scene in mind 👀

i mostly ask myself where i'm going and/or what i want to show! for example i have a bullet note for the future that says "someone gets injured/breaks smth and [redacted] faints" because said someone is squeamish abt that kinda thing so i want a way to show that rather than tell! all my notes are abt as vague as this & i'll only flesh em out with dialogue/poses closer to the time along with figuring out how they fit into a timeline of other events which is also pretty random depending on what's going on 😅

there's pretty much two things that make up my story.. 1. overarching themes that span a long time eg. Robin struggling with then somewhat gaining control of his gift - these usually centre around character growth or lack thereof! 2. random ideas - the kind of scenes i usually think of in the shower or bed & think YES i need to do that at some point skdjskj i have so many of these for Robin/Wren especially 🤸‍♀️

tldr: 2% last minute planning 98% brain rot 🧠

[asherloki]

supp :) im the person that requested the 12 & 35 prompts a bit ago

ofc u can do fluff and/or dom sherlock omg!

dom!reader is just my pref and idk the prompts were low-key giving beginning of smut to me, but i fr dont mind, u have full creative freedom and u obviously kno more than me bc of ur previous (amazing) writing :)

tysm for considering my request and have a great day/night! <3

My saviour

Bbc Sherlock x reader

Word count:- 3k

Warning:- light smut, but mostly fluff.

Prompt list here !

A/n:- ah finally I'm back! And I hope you like it!

" I'll take it" I said entering detective inspector lestrade's office. He and his whole team was clueless when it came to the mysterious disappearance of Mr Hazelwood. Even though I wasn't the first choice for the case, one can never be, when the greatest detective of the world is inspector's closest acquaintance. Well, acquaintance is past, now he's closest friend. Can you even imagine, the brilliant genius being his friend meant, almost no case for me to solve. I don't even have an assistant, there's definitely less opportunity for me to show I'm capable of solving mysteries too. Maybe not as brilliant as him, the one who stood infront of the inspector as I walked in, he turned to me and I must say, being a detective myself, it always made me like the wise people, and that meant... I fancied the detective, yes the one who's my professional rival.

"you don't understand," lestrade said looking at me, "I want Sherlock to solve it". This stupid comment made my blood boil, again, another oppertunity lost, ofcourse he can't let this interesting case go.

"no, I'm not taking it" I was stunned as Sherlock Holmes stated this, 'why not' I wondered but lestrade said it out loud,

"and why not?"

Sherlock sighed in response and rubbed his forehead with his fingers as if he was disturbed with lestrade constantly urging him to solve a case he doesn't want to, "it's too boring, rather easy for me Gavin".

'Same old genius' I thought as he mis pronounced lestrade's name again, I must say lestrade's frustration made me kinda giggle but I controlled it.

"If it's that easy then solve it" he still requested, almost begged him.

"you must use some of your brain too inspector" replied Sherlock and I agreed, "or" he said turning to me and my heart started to beat faster I could hear it in my ear, "this young lady is willing to take it, give her a chance".

What did I just heard, Sherlock siding me?

"ugh fine" saying so lestrade turned to me, "I assigne you, for the case now I want it to be solved in two weeks".

"TWO WEEKS?" I asked loudly enough for my voice to echo through the office, "isn't it too.. less inspector?" I asked as calmly as I could, you have to when you're still struggling to get known.

"yes, it's easy as Sherlock said, solve it, and if you need help I bet he can, he's already solved it in his fucking mind palace". I see where the anger was coming from, it was inspector being frustrated by the rejection of Mr brilliant.

"here you go" said Sherlock as he was about to pass by me, I wanted to thank him, or say something sweet infact nice but me being me, I regretted what I said, "scared?"

He raised his brows at my comment, I deserved it, then shaking his head he said, "we'll see how you solve it in two weeks without my help young lady".

I squinted my eyes at his challenge. But he went out of the office. I took the challenge in my mind, however I was unsure, I knew it's gonna be difficult, but I can't lose. It's my only chance.

_________________________________________

As I checked my progress after one week, I knew I'm gonna lose this challenge terribly. First, I had this rush which messed up my method and second, this Mr brilliant challenging me, that I can't do it on my own. Which was slowly turning out to be true. I got up from my sofa where I was lying and thinking, and grabbed my coat, my intention was to go to spot from where Mr Hazelwood was missing and inspect it thoroughly. So I took the bus, I know, poor little detective and went to the spot. While inspecting I felt someone watching over me. You know the feeling you get when you're being watched. I turned around and there were no one looking at me, yet again there was this feeling,

"told you, you need my help". I was startled as the heavy (sexy) voice said it, from behind. And no wonder I found Mr brilliant standing.

"what are you doing here, it's my case to solve" I knew I should've been a bit nice but it just came out to be very..

"rude" he replied, "very rude, I'm trying to help you".

"and why the fu..."

"gosh, kids these days" he said shaking his head.

"did you just called me a kid?"

"have you seen your height?"

"I'm sorry I'm not as tall as you and that doesn't mean.."

"as me? you're not even tall..AT ALL" his face remained expression less.

"who's being rude now, and how come you found me?"

"tracked your phone."

He said what? "you're spying on me?"

"a little girl, solving mystery on her own and at night, I must take care.."

"why do you care?" I might've said that but in my head I asked, 'you care? about me? why? who am I to you, genius?'.

"nothing," he got frustrated with me I knew, "if you change your mind, then... Baker Street" he pointed to the way he headed off to, leaving me on the street, alone, rather I pushed him away. I didn't want to, but it's me, why do you think I don't have an assistant? I work alone, so I don't look weak. Yet my phone's calendar told me it's one week to go, and if I can't solve.... No no I can and I have to... alone.

________________________________________

And then there left three days, till now I've matched some dots and it confirmed, he wasn't kidnapped, no one conspired against him, so whatever happened to him he was involved. Now this second part of the mystery held lots of troubles, and to solve them in three days was near impossible. My mind kept telling me to reach to him, you know, Mr brilliant. But it was embarrassing, however I had no other way,

"okay, time to throw my self respect" I said to myself gesturing with my hand as if throwing trash bag, "here I come, Sherlock Holmes".

All my way I just wished, "please stay at the flat, please stay at home, please detective" and there I was at his door.

I inhaled a deep breath and tapped my knuckles on his door.

"it's unlocked" replied a different voice, from inside.

'Oh no, John watson is there, I'm fucked' now I had to be embarrassed to both of these men, anyway I have threw my self respect away.

I opened the door and entered, the scene was... well... interesting I believe, John Watson was on his laptop and detective was sitting on his sofa, eyes closed, hands clasped.

"may I?" I asked Dr watson, because he looked a little sane.

"yes" he replied me and turned to Sherlock, "she came".

"who?" he enquired, his deep voice even deeper, eyes still closed and hands still clasped together, touching his chin.

"young lady". Replied John watson and Sherlock's eyes were flung open.

"is that what you call me?" I couldn't help but ask him.

"any problem?" he asked.

"I'm not here to argue with you, I want.." shit! now the embarrassing part, "I need, your help".

"oh I see, Mr Hazelwood?" I nodded, "still on it? wasn't it easy?"

"if it were then why would I ask your help?" he was getting on my nerves I tell you.

"fine sit" he said and I checked around me.

"where?" there wasn't any place near him but a sofa far in the other end of the living room.

"oh there?" I said pointing to it.

"no here" he brought out a rusty chair for me to sit.

"but it's for the clients" objected Dr watson, he's really sane.

"you know what? I'm fine just help me out". I need help from him and nothing else. Well sometimes I think if I could have something else but hey, professionalism.

"yes now let me explain, before that tell me how far you've got". I explained him everything and out of my utter surprise he got up from his sofa to his work board and offered me to sit there. Why's he being so... kind?

"now let me tell you what exactly happened" and he explained it was all Mr Hazelwood's plan, he intentionally disappeared, he's not dead but roaming around disguised.

"woah!" I couldn't help but praise him, it's not like I don't admire him. I do more than that, I respect him and perhaps... I like him a little too, "so how do we catch him?".

"it's not your duty to do so, you give all the evidence and theories to Scotland yard and order them to find him" he suggested.

"order them? me?" I am not very... influencial am I?

"yes, look they insulted you by not respecting your potential, now it's your time".

His motivational speech filled me with self respect again, the one I threw for him.

"yes" I said with such confidence and then I lost it again, "would you come with me... please?" now still cringe at the thought of me actually giving him puppy eyes and pleading but he agreed.

We entered lestrade's office, one day left till the deadline for me and I explained everything to him.

"seems like Sherlock helped you" said sally, stupid bi... no control yourself.

"I didn't, we met at the gate, I came here for the case I'm taking care of" lied the detective, I must admit, his lying skill was pretty good.

"anyway " said lestrade, "if you really did it on your own then.."

It felt so bad, to be taking credit of Sherlock's work, I didn't solve it all, I don't lie, so I,

"Sally is right" I admitted.

"no she isn't " Sherlock warned me.

"she is, she is lestrade. I solved half of it, it was solved by Sherlock Holmes himself. Yes he helped me, but I could've done it on my own, if I had some more time."

They were all silent for some time, I feared looking at Sherlock, he'd be fuming at me by now.

"I guess we were putting unnecessary pressure on you" said the inspector softly, "fine, you'll solve another one for us".

This second chance made my lips curve into a smile and Sherlock approved with a nod.

We both went out of there, and we laughed and talked all our way to his house, why was I going there? I don't know, I kept on walking with him and he never pushed me away. In between he'd often brush hair off my forehead or take my hand while crossing the road. I wonder why, not that I mind though.

We even went straight to his living room and it was awfully quiet.

"where is Dr watson?" I enquired.

"he's out, he messaged me, he's picking Rosie from school". Then he told me everything about john and his daughter, even his deceased wife Mary.

"Mary sounds like a wonderful, brave, strong woman" I replied.

"she was, she was strongest and absolute boss of us" he spoke in way that showed how much he admired her and how much John Watson and Rosie means to him.

"if only I were capable of doing things on my own" I didn't want to say so but it just came out, it sounded sad.

"why not? if you were weak you would've been living with your parents, you have family, house, friends in here yet you chose be on your own, you don't have any assistant, you solve cases by yourself too, how much more strong do you wanna be?" his words felt good didn't they?

"you helped me" I reminded him.

"only this time" accompanied by his beautiful smile.

"if I need help again in solving mystery? will you help me?" I was starting to let my guards down, I may have started to trust him.

"if you want me to, ofcourse" His smile never left his lips but my phone rang and it indicated it was time to leave his flat, for now.

"I have to go" I kind of asked his permission before going.

"if you have to then... be careful okay?" ain't he little too careful for me? I liked it, I like being taken care of, perhaps he's not wrong I really am a kid.

___________________________________

Days turned to months and one case turned to three. I took his help for three cases, call me dumb but I enjoy his company, for some reason I've noticed he does too.

After solving the third one I first went to his flat with him, both of us giggling at the fact that sally was so disappointed that I actually got recognised for my consecutive three wins, ofcourse with Mr brilliant by my side.

"it's late Sherlock, I have to go home" I said checking my watch.

"John's gonna be out tonight he has some patients to take care of, Rosie is with molly, so you can stay here tonight."

He might've said casually but it's HIM saying to ME. I already liked him, after these eight months of solving cases together I think I can say I... I'm in love with him. He's so caring for me, or maybe for all but I liked it.

"will you?" he asked again, popping my thought bubble.

"oh no nothing I was just ... fine I'll stay" I agreed, with my heart in my hand, he might spare his room for me but I wanted something else, a little kiss maybe... I think I fell in love, with the great detective.

"good" and with this he went inside, and came with his dressing gown draped over him, if I were a cat I would've drooled visibly, but I drooled, just no one could see it. He looked incredibly... domestic and it was hot. I just wanted to cuddle him, play with his hair, kiss him... oh! that was hot.

"Sherlock?" I asked.

"yes?" he answered, offering me something. It was a chocolate, I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not a kid" I complaint "I'm a grown up adult in my early twenties."

"I know, but I thought you may like it." well I do like chocolates, so unwrapping it I took a bite. And it was a bad idea told by Mr brilliant's laughter, the chocolate melted and it covered my mouth.

"funny?" I teased.

"very" he said between laughters.

"don't laugh, I bite people" I joked, yet I do have this tendency to bite my close ones,

"oh do you? that's... unique". he replied.

"I'm gonna wash my lips wait" as I got up, I felt his arm catching me by wrist. My heart gave me a signal, it's your chance.

"what?" turning to him I said, I little seductively.

He said nothing but took some of the chocolate from my lips with his finger and put it in his mouth, licking his finger clean.

My senses went wild. I stood frozen.

"you know what?" he asked me, and my mind told me, 'say something, don't look dumb'.

"wh-what?" I said.

"I've always wanted you this close. Never knew if I'd ever have you. I'm.." he trailed off " you're young and beautiful, I'm just an old detective"

'youre anything but old, actually even if you are older than me, I like it, I love it, you're older and sexier, caring as well" I thought.

"I just wanted to make sure you're taken care of. and I..." he trailed off.

"say it" I wanted to hear the words he couldn't let himself speak.

"I love you, with all my heart, have always loved you, and will always do, I sometimes went to Scotland yard casually for maybe to get a glimpse of you, coming to the office, smiling, all jolly, like a ray of sunshine " his lips curved into a smile reminiscing it perhaps, "since the day your eyes fell on me I have loved you, for who you are, you never had to be anything you're not, I love for all the things you are and all the things you're not, I'd see you noticing me too and you're disgust was clear".

"Sherlock" I started, "it wasn't disgust, a pretence, so you don't find out I like you too, infact now I can say I love you and not for your intelligence I admire that but I love you for being a good human to me, I can see, you love me, you care, you protect and you even adore me."

"you know?" he was surprised, "well then, I'm glad, may I kiss you?"

I nodded, and he crashed his lips on mine, letting the kiss go hungrier until he pulled away and asked,

"should we? you want to? with me?"

I understood what he meant,

"yes, I do"

"I'm not that experienced" he replied.

"neither am I"

we giggled at our lesser experience, we both are so engulfed into mystery solving that sex or love barely crossed our mind. I know not how he pulled me and I wrapped my legs around his waist, but we did and we went to his room kissing still.

One can say I was nervous and I knew so was he but he didn't seem so. The way he marked my neck and the way his fingers worked the buttons of my shirt. I was all red being naked infront of him but it melted as he put off his shirt too, I couldn't help but run my hand all over his chest, bringing him closer to me.

"bite me" he ordered.

"I thought you'd never ask" with a smirk I pecked his bottom lip, his moan said he liked it. That hour of him being inside of me was wonderful. He was sweet, gentle, he knew I was absolutely inexperienced. And my first time turned out to be the beautiful one. "I can stay like this forever" I said in between whimpers.

"I wouldn't mind" he replied, fastening his pace and us reaching our climax together. As we layed down on his bed I kept on thinking about how he said he loved me, and he always will.

"what's the matter?" he asked seeing me lost in my thoughts. I knew he cannot actually let himself love someone, maybe it was a moment of weakness for him, but if only he knew it was more than that for me. It was not just sex for me, I made love with him.

“You’re all talk. Why don’t you show me what you really mean?”

I said getting up a little aggressively. He looked confused at my behaviour.

"But It was the truth, why do you think I'd help you, care for you, love you?"

I think he does have a point.

"and sex never amazed me, I don't bother about it, and my past experience was no strings attached kind of sex but now..." he trailed off, "now after you came, I resisted as long as I could the urge to kiss your pretty face, because I know what people could think, that the great detective found a young girl to sleep with, the young lady detective slept with Sherlock Holmes to get recognised, that's why I never opened up about it". His eyes were teary and so were mine, he cared about me as much as he cared about himself.

"if I say" I spoke, "I don't care, and that I love you, I want to be with you Sherlock, then?"

Sherlock came a little closer to me, trying hard not to cry, "then you're gonna get me as your assistant all my life."

Saying this he hugged me and we both cried, tears of joy I'd like to think. But since then I moved in with him, and john and Rosie, I love this family and our parents may have thought this marriage is a little... never mind, they accepted, the age gap wasn't a barrier at all. And we lived happily ever after.

[littlegeecko]

Thoughts on Carl x Flynn?

EEEEEHHEHFOEAOEODJFDJABSODNJEHBEHJ!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUMPS UP AN DOWN AT MAXIMUM VELOCITY sorry anyways

This is gonna be a long one so buckle up! some spoilers for METAPHOR, BENEFITS, Jenna's good ending and parts of Flynn's route

You already kno thats my shit fr fr lmao

But if i had to go in depth about em, i would point out many things, such as the way that both pretty much sway with each other effortlessly, their interactions feel natural and nice, and granted, theres no hanging tension on them compared to Flynn and everyone else in this fucking group.I think thats moreso a side effect to Carl being so chill tho, you just...vibe with him.

I think first and foremost they're good friends, and that's what they really need in a fucked up place such as Echo, people they can trust and be with without much conflict and be themselves, hell, Flynn states multiple times that Carl is the one thing keeping him sane in this town and giving him a reason to keep going on about his life there, and i dont doubt Carl feels the same by the way he reacts to Flynn possibly leaving (and he even steps up and says he'll go back to Pueblo after they escape Echo, promising to bring Flynn with him. So its not about "Stay here with me" like someone, it's "Anywhere as long you're there")

I can totally understand how people can see their relationship as platonic considering Flynn shows mannerisms with Carl that he shared with Sydney when young, and the fact it's implied Flynn and Syd viewed each other as brothers, but i think that's just how Flynn is; a protector, making sure the people he cares about are alright to the best of his abilities regardless of how fucked up the situation might be, keeping his head high and levered so the others can hang on to him- with some exceptions, of course.

Do I think they make a good couple? i believe yes!

Their presonalities could seem clashing for some but they make it work very well, and they attend each other's weaknesses, such as Flynn helping Carl on his anxiety an depression to the best of his abilities, and Carl allowing Flynn to open up about what's on his mind and being there for him when he needs him the most, and defending him given the chance, no strings attached. Those are their sore spots as characters, and they just make it work without it seeming toxic or one-sided, at least for me

They already have good chemistry as friends, and theres a growing feeling there if you pay attention to the small little things on almost each route when it comes to them, blink and u miss it type stuff, until u get to Flynn's route and its straight up longing for each other: Carl shows jealousy for Flynn talking about Chase and what transpired between em, but he doesn't intervene (Perhaps his own low self-steem?) because he still cares for Flynn's happiness. And Flynn on the other hand is looking for a meaningful emotional relationship, and literally all the interactions he has with both Chase and Leo are turbulent and bring in a new layer of issues to the friend group, this doesn't happen with Carl, he even says he's happy to have this loser around- wishes he could sit beside him in Leo's van- and even indirectly asks him about his feelings about him ("If this wasn't real...is there anything you want to tell to not-real me?")

LIKE YOU TWO ARE SO DOWN FOR EACH OTHER IT MAKES YOU BOTH LOOK STUPID!!! and the part where they talk in Flynn's room??? JENNA'S REACTION? CARL'S REACTION??!??!?! you won't see me shutting up about it. The fact characters keep interrupting them on those moments is just so telling

and man if i had to go in depth about Flynn's route when it comes to Carl uguhhhhhhuhuuhufhdsjfsj rips my hair out

But yea, i love them as a couple, they bounce off each other and vibe together so well, and i think they can both help each other become the best versions of themselves once they leave Echo, together. Thats why i like Jenna's Good ending so much, at least there, theres a promise of them actually getting to that point in their relationship, and living together comfortably (like the waffle house scene....im obsessed, ill never be the same...)

Extra notes!

The fact Flynn fell for Carl despite him not fitting the type of guys he likes to bang just tells me he's genuinely interested in him for his feelings, personality and the way Carl treats him

AND I MIGHT JUST BE INSANEEEE BUT AFTER WATCHING METAPHOR? FLYNN GIFTING CARL A LIGHTER THAT WORKS JUST FINE ITS LIKEEEEEEE HMMMMM EEEEHEHEHEHHE YOU KNOWWWW

Carl caring MORE about Flynn leaving than him possibly having something with Chase because he feels thats how he could genuinely loose him guughhhhhgugh

AND THE WAY FLYNN IS THE ONE COMFORTING HIM IN THE JENNA ROUTE AND CARL HUGS HIM TIGHTER WHEN THEY JOKE ABOUT THEM GETTING MARRIED LIKE ??????EEEEHEHEHEH

I wish they kissed at least once womp

[babybluebex]

Maybe singledad!eddie or singledad!joe breaking down in front of you for the first time because he’s terrified of being a bad dad (cause u kno I like to hurt my own feelings) 😭 - hellfiremunsonn <3

UNLUCKY 13 ANGST NIGHT YESSS baby!! i love single dad!joe so that's the way i'm taking this lol (and little miss dodie)

"She's beautiful," you whispered, and Joe smiled softly as you both watched Dorothy Marie Quinn asleep in her big girl bed. It was her birthday today, the big Number 2, and she had had a full day of kisses and cuddles from you and her father. Dodie was the sweetest little girl you had ever met, and you loved her as deeply as you loved Joe; you had met Joe when Dodie was hardly a year old, still fresh from his divorce, and you had quickly joined their family unit. Dodie called you "Mummy" and Joe was her dada, and your small family of three was all you needed.

"She is, isn't she?" Joe mumbled, reaching out and gently petting Dodie's thin blonde curls. You had seen baby pictures of Joe and how his hair used to be quite blond-toned, even up into his teen years, and Dodie was the spit of him, all brown eyes and curls. "I love her so much."

"I love this little girl so much, Joey," you whispered. "I can't imagine being any other little girl's mummy."

Joe watched Dodie as she shifted in her sleep, clutching her little bunny to her chest, and he sighed heavily with the weight of the world. "I just worry..." he started softly. "I hope I'm a good dad to her."

"Oh, Joey," you whispered softly. "You're the best dad to her, you're the absolute best father to her. What makes you worry that you aren't?"

"I dunno," he mumbled. He watched Dodie for a second longer before he sniffled, and he took a deep breath as he looked down to his lap. "I just want her to be okay, and I'm worried that I could be doing more."

You were quiet as Joe pressed the heels of his hand to his face, and he began to cry. That was something that you loved about Joe: he wore his emotions on his sleeve and was never afraid to show them, and Joe sniffled and wiped his eyes dry. “I just wanna be good for her,” he whimpered. “I want her to look at me and love me and know I’m doing the best for her.”

“You are, baby,” you told him, and you wrapped Joe up in your arms. "You're doing everything you can for her, and she loves you for it."

"But what if..." Joe started. "What if my everything isn't enough?"

"It is," you said. "You're the best father ever, Joe, and Dodie knows that, I promise. You're doing everything you can, and I promise that you're doing enough, more than enough."

Joe leaned into you and sighed, and he groaned softly as he wiped up his tears. Once his eyes were dry, he turned his attention back to his daughter, and he found her groggily awake, her little brown eyes fluttering sleepily. "Dada?" she mumbled, and she dropped her bunny to reach out for Joe.

"I'm here, baby," Joe said, and he reached out and took Dodie's hand in his. "I'll always be here."

[cool-island-songs]

I feel like people never really pay attention to the fact that Tweek never said they should date for the town. Tweek said he wanted to fix things for CRAIG. Which opens up a new angst potential where Craig thinks it's not fake dating, but pity dating.

oHhohHHOHHH??? i'm ngl anon... that's a spicy meatbol

ok let's flesh this one out a bit. craig finds that everyone naturally sympathizes with tweek during the whole t x c debacle... he's a really good actor after all, and people like him and don't call him a dick to his face

craig who thought he was the cool guy realizing tweek is actually the naturally affable one. girls like him, kids like him, puppies like him, classy mfs like tolkien like him. what does craig have. his guinea pig?? cLYDE??? craig convincing himself tweek is taking pity on him, lending him his social shine like craig thought he had been doing for tweek all those times (remember when they were metro together? ;-;)

then when tweek walks out on him over the franchise plan, it just confirms what craig's always known: tweek would move on some day. sure, he says it's about ethics in video game journalism superhero movie franchising, but craig knows better. he thinks he's so much better than craig, doesn't he? so morally perfect even though he's probably holding stupid mysterion's hand now instead

well, whatever. tweek's lame anyway. craig doesn't care about him. craig doesn't care about anyone!! he's just gonna say a bunch of cool, definitely genuinely really apathetic guy stuff like:

u kno.. to show how much he doesn't need tweek or miss him everyday or anything

[here2bbtstrash]

bts at a drag show/gay bar

i was already babbling abt how much i wanted to do this with my bias line and then y'all made me realize i should just make it a whole damn headcanons post so. welcome! here we are! here is my brainrot on how the boys would turn up on drag night at the gay bar 🏳️‍🌈✨ if this content is not for you, it costs $0 to just keep scrolling ✌️

knj: everyone expected that joonie bby would be flooded with attention from the people who came out tonight specifically in search of a tall, built daddy, but there's a group nobody saw coming that ends up swarming him first: the lesbians. they fucking love him, and he finds himself getting sucked into an hour-long conversation on the back patio about roni horn and rha hyeseok. he'll probably end up agreeing to start a book club with his new sapphic friends before the night is over (and he'll run into them all again the following weekend when he goes to support soyoon at one of her gigs lmao) 👭

ksj: entirely oblivious to what it looks like when a person is flirting with him, despite that being exactly what happens to him for quite literally the entire night. each time someone new walks away from the table, he'll turn back to yoongi and jimin with the same question: "okay, now surely that wasn't flirting, was it?!" only to be immediately told that yes, yes it was and no, nobody would sit through a 20 minute ted talk on the lore of maplestory if they didn't also want to sit on his dick. he'll argue til til he's half-hoarse from screaming over the music that there's no way everyone in the club could possibly be flirting with him - but frankly, he's not mad at the ego boost 🍆

myg: putting the suga in suga daddy, he's breaking hundreds at the bar to make sure everyone has a stack of singles to tip the queens, and alllllll the drinks are going on his black card. other than that he's pretty lowkey, mostly just sipping steadily at his whiskey and looking at his phone. when somebody finally gets nosy enough to lean over his shoulder and snoop, they realize that he's actively scrolling through his rotation of hookup apps and trying to match up people in the room to their profiles. might slip away for a sneaky link in the bathroom oop, but he'll be back in time to close his tab out 💳

jhs: full-send GAGGING at the queens and their dancing. he can't even stay in his seat because song after song he's jumping to his feet just so he can dramatically collapse to the floor with a gay scream, getting his life entirely with every new kick, flip, spin, and death drop. the word slaaaaaaaay! has never been shouted with more enthusiasm than it is tonight by this man, and he does not give a fuck that he won't have a voice tomorrow. once the show is over, he is the absolute center of the dancefloor, popping and locking and showing off his footwork like he was born to do it-- and the boys will definitely catch him practicing his duck walk at some point in the next week 🕺

pjm: without a doubt, he is the LIFE of the mf party, lost in the lights and outta his mind u kno?? it's literally just the like crazy MV, actually. will make everyone do shots as soon as they get in the door and then at least once an hour the rest of the night, if only because he really likes flirting (and by flirting i mean making out) with the shot boys. lbr he probably gets several shots poured or spat into his mouth, and if anyone's hopping up on the bar to get tequila sucked out of their belly button, it is absolutely this demon. and ofc he's bringing at least one person home with him - "it's gon' be a good night" indeed~ 😈

kth: disappears into the crowd a few songs into the set, but he texts the group chat that he's fine and just made some friends, so the night carries on without him. it isn't until the next performer is called to the stage - miss tata mic! - that everyone realizes he's befriended the queens, and they've done him up right: cinched for the gods, face beat to make his eyes even more smoldering than usual (...wait, did he bring his colored contacts from home?!), and moving fearlessly in borrowed six-inch heels. and of course, his choreo is flawless. he easily earns enough tips to pay yoongi back in full and then some 👠

jjk: the definition of 'happy to be here'. loves the lights, the music, the ~vibes~, all of it. he somehow knows every word to every single song, and the more drinks he has, the louder he's singing along. and the queens love him for being easy to fluster, the way even his ears flush with color when he blushes, so he gets a whole lot of ass and tiddies in his lap and his face (rewarded with generous tips, naturally). when the lights finally come on and everyone stumbles outside, he's a drunchies king, and he thinks the food from the truck in the parking lot is quite literally the best thing he's ever tasted. he repeatedly shouts 'DAMN!' up to the night sky, one fist swinging as he eats, until someone pours him into the car so they can all head back home 🍗

[thequibblah]

do you have any book (or movie recs) that have similar characters to James and Lily? I feel like when I am looking for enemies to lovers books, the characters are just off, or it's just like an aggressive perversion of a great trope. I just want more stories about two good people falling in love lol

i will say that it's so tricky to find media that has the same dynamic... it's usually missing a few ingredients from the special sauce, imo — like, the way the characters interact feels the same but the social positions are inverted... or the vibes are similar but some key detail is kinda off... which is good AU fodder lmao but anyway i say this because the same is true of all of what im gonna recommend here and i want to set ur expectations to where mine tend to be when my jily vibe radar goes off. i.e., i will take the parts i like and enjoy what is there for what it is and then dream up an AU

if you're the same anon who asked @clare-with-no-i about this late last year, you will already kno this, but i'm going to mention some of the classics people mention in terms of starter jily, plus some crowdsourced thoughts:

anne of green gables (which i never read as a child) // anne with an e (which i did watch and adore)

anastasia (1997)

parks and rec (for ben and leslie — i am not a watcher of this show but people do be saying this)

brooklyn 99 (for jake and amy — obviously not perfect but i do see this)

lockwood and co (my jily girlies do seem to love this show)

rogue one (yes the star wars movie, trust)

pirates of the caribbean (ALSO TRUST!!!!!)

here are some that are my stupid little opinions and some books i think r worth trying:

pride & prejudice BUT ALSO emma (james is emma, lily is knightley # real ones know) BUT ALSO persuasion — u can watch the first two but u simply must read the third

palm springs (2020)

a lady's guide to fortune hunting by sophie irwin

shipped by angie hockman

a crown of wishes by roshani chokshi

if you could see the sun by ann liang

the nonesuch by georgette heyer

been watching the artful dodger recently and this is an example of the inverted social status thing but it's real fun and i love it

and trust me on this: anything w george clooney and julia roberts as love interests

[indirecticn]

just as info... because im a bitch who has to over explain everything...

i am on like, not semi hiatus but def. semi slow down for a bit and here's why. under the cut is a lot of boring work garbage, feel free to ignore lol

ok SO here's the thing

i think i mentioned it before but like a month or two ago my company fired five people, four of which were like directly in my operations group. we are a bulk liquid e.xport team that specializes in fle.xi bags being loaded like... well, with bulk liquids lmao. its not super hard but it is TEDIOUS as fuck what i have to do on a daily basis.

i have direct contact with suppliers and traders purchasing from suppliers and i coordinate the full movement of product so basically customer tells me: i need X amt of product moved from point a in the usa to point b in the world. they specify, often, the particulars of like.. what steamship lines to use based on rate, or like on end destination preferences, and they expect us to typically coordinate the trucker to pick up food grade containers that then live load or transload at a supplier's plant and then get ingated back into whatever port terminal to get on a vessel and make specific arrival times at their end destination.

like idk some of u might even be in this industry too, so u kno what i mean.

the PROBLEM is that i am expected to get the booking with the ssl, coordinate the trucker, make sure the product gets loaded both within the customer's expected window + within a window where containers can be ingated against said booking's vessel, with OUT additional cost (so things can't sit on yards and get storage or detention for drivers or have additional legs in the trucking which means more money to pay trucker ect ect) and i have to load the amount the customer requests AND

Sometimes the product has to go on rail and that has specific regulations and sometimes the product is hazardous and has to be pre approved on the SSL to even be booked but the customer sent a request asking to load the next week so they get mad you dont get a confirmation within the same day because the haz approval has to be granted by the transhipment port half way across the world too because SOME ports don't take haz and some do but only certain kinds and and and and....

sometimes there is a vessel congestion in the ports or bad weather that shuts down ports or plants, or sometimes drivers have mechnical issues or just miss their fkn appts to load or show up with wrong equipment or ... or there is no container your driver can find because the ssl is out of them at that particular port location or...

yeah.

and so take that and then give me one account that is incredibly picky, sends requests last minute, mostly of randomly haz bullshit, and expects u to lick their boots....

and then another account where i am expected to maintain a perfect constant flow of bookings out of four different ports and the amount expected is like... ohhh 28 a week out of one, 10 out of another, 20 out of two others... and THEN that same customer sends you 75 FUCKING RAILCARS TO ONE SINGLE RAILSPUR/TRUCKER THAT CAN ONLY TRANSLOAD TWO A DAY, MAYBE FOUR TOPS, AND and your boss told them that there would be NO storage charged back to them so you have to now hope to god all the railcars dont show up at once because then you have to meet that four day vessel window and at MOST can load out like 10 of the railcars, if that, if you are lucky with perfect conditions but WHOOPS ALL 75 ARE THERE AT ONCE SO ACTUALLY fuck your life you get storage on 65 railcars and it shows on YOUR account that you lost money

and also?

you have to do the customs filing and documentation for destination arrival and have a window for that too and must have the info perfect or there is charges for fucking it up or containers getting stuck in customs at the destination...

yeah.

my co workers are overwhelmed and they have like maybe 60 containers on their desk a month?

my fucking dumb ass customer gives me a total currently of 450.

and yes, they fired people so i dont have a lot of back up until they hire someone new to take over this single stupid account so i can focus on others.

ive been working from like 6am to 7pm if not later because of this. im looking at other jobs but nothing pays as well currently and i technically like my team its just frustrating because ... yeah.

i hate this industry. i haaaaate it. supposedly im good at it but i dont care. i just want to survive having to pay rent or car payments and getting food, you know?

and i want to be able to do what i love which is write... and this job is melting my brain and just got exponentially more ugly within the last two weeks.

so anyway thats where im at and until i either change jobs or my desk chills out or they hire someone OR i get back on my adhd meds (lol that is really NOT helping to be off of them) im going to be slow.

but whatever, yall are great and i know those that want to will stick around so i appreciate you

thanks for coming to my ted talk bye