#and his time in the empty has NOT been kind to him

[mostly-imagines]

Moonstruck

jason todd x reader

aka sober thoughts and all that

warnings: intoxication

Jason has a thing about drinking around you. He’d kind of skirted around it for a while when you were first dating, but after a while you’d noticed he never really has more than a drink or two regardless of how much you had. The only times you ever see him drink more is when he’s downing whiskey as a pain mitigater when he needs stitches. You’d initially assumed he just wasn’t a big drinker, but eventually you’d come to realize it was more of a matter of not wanting to lose his inhibitions around you. 

You know he’s still working on trusting himself, even sober, because he’s terrified of accidentally hurting you. But you have a hard time imagining him losing control like that in any state and you’re nearly certain he’s just being hard on himself.

You’ve been falling in and out of less than peaceful sleep for the past few hours, having trouble easing yourself while your boyfriend is still out. You at least attempted to get to bed earlier tonight because for once he isn’t out fighting crime and risking injury, though you haven’t found much more luck than usual. 

You lie on your back, half ready to give up and turn on a movie while you wait.

You’re momentarily startled to hear Dick bellow out your name, no regard for the fact that it’s nearing three in the morning and you have neighbors. He’s not much of a shouter so you’re instantly on alert, worried that he or Jason are hurt.

You fumble out of bed and rush to the living room, surprised to find your fire escape empty. You turn, proceeding towards the front door, opening it cautiously. 

“Dick? What—” You don’t need to finish your question because the second you take one good look at the two of them, the state of them is immediately clear. Dick, who’s barely standing upright on his own, supports your boyfriend's weight via Jason’s arm slinged around his shoulder.

“Hey!” Dick grins at you, far more lively than he has any business being this late at night. “Sorry, couldn’t remember which apartment was yours.”

You nod pensively, “Well the perspective’s different than when you’re coming in through the window.”

He continues on past that without thought, “I’ve come to deliver,” he says, gesturing up to Jason with a bit of a strain. You’re pretty sure there were supposed to be a couple more words at the end of that sentence but you understand well enough anyway.

You nod, eyebrows raised and try to hide a smile. “Thanks, Dick.” He shifts your boyfriend off of his shoulder to lean him up against the door frame, where Jason places a majority of his weight.

You eye him warily, not confident in his steadiness. He seems to hold well enough against the heavy door though, his eyes drifting around the tiled floor. Your attention shifts to Dick, who’s clearly satisfied with a job well done and ready to go.

You tilt your head, seeing him turn away. “You good?”

“I’m great!” He calls out with a thumbs up. You watch as he staggers away, nearly missing the exit.

You look back over at Jason, who’s already staring at you with a soft gaze. “You’re pretty,” he fawns, irises blown out and flickering all over your face.

“Oh you’re drunk drunk.” You grin, watching him stumble forward a bit.

He shakes his head, looking a bit dizzy after, “Shoulda seen Tim.”

You pause mid laugh, “…Who drove you here?”

He falters at that, gaze falling to the floor. “Uh…” He winces, “Damian…”

You nod slowly, eyes wide, “We’re gonna talk about that tomorrow.”

“He’s better than you’d think.” You’d hope so. 

Well, at least he’s spending time with his brothers.

You sigh, straightening your posture in preparation for the job to come. “Alright, come on big guy,” you pull him up from his slant against the wall, hauling him into the same position he’d been in with Dick—though you’re struggling significantly more to hold him upright. “You gotta help me out here, Jay,” you grunt, trying very hard not to fold under his weight. You swat the door shut behind you, making peace with the fact that he’ll scold in the morning for not locking it.

He presses an uncoordinated kiss to the side of your head as you try to shuffle him along, not interested in the least in easing your labor. His self discipline isn't quite gone, but his awareness of how big he is sure seems to be. 

You wobble from the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders, holding onto him by his waist. You manage to get him to sidestep your cat, narrowly, though Salem hisses at him all the same. Jason takes no notice. You stumble into your bedroom with only about 30% of his usual balance aiding your effort.

He collapses onto the bed the second his legs hit the frame, pulling you down with him. You lie, somewhat awkwardly, on his chest as he holds you tight—probably tighter than he would if he were sober. It feels nice though.

You lie your cheek flat on his chest, relaxing against him. “What’d you guys do? Thought you were just having an easy night.”

He takes a deep breath before answering, “Raided Dick’s liquor c—” he stops, mulling over his words. “...Bruce’s liquor that was in Dick’s cabinet.” He annunciates every word in that sentence very carefully.

You squint speculatively, “Didn’t take Dick for the stealing type.”

He grumbles, “He’s not. ‘Less it’s Bruce.”

You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face, “Aw, you really do take after your big brother, don’t you?” 

He scoffs at that, “I don’t. I’m the one who gave him the idea.” Yeah, that sounds right.

He taps on your cheek lightly and you pick your head up to find him looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“What’s that look for?”

“Can I kiss you?” his eyes drop down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you.” He’s nearly whispering and you feel your heart skip several beats at the feeling of his eyes on you like this.

You press a light kiss to his lips and he practically purrs.  

You pull back, admiring the serene expression on his face. “You taste like whiskey.”

“I like whiskey,” he says honestly.

You smile, nodding. “I know. Don’t know why, but..”

He leans in for another kiss but you parry, only letting his lips meet your cheek. He frowns grimly, attempting to chase your lips. 

“Lemme kiss you,” the pout on his face is adorable and while you hesitate to deny him, you retreat, resting your chin on his chest.

You smile wistfully, tracing his cheekbone, “You���re drunk, baby.”

“‘M not that drunk,” he tells you, though everything about him says otherwise.

Your hand falls flat on his shoulder. “Your eleven year old brother drove you here.”

He shrugs, “He can drive the bat…batcar? Bat…”

“Batmobile,” you finish.

“The batmobile.” he nods, as if he was seconds away from remembering. You suspect he wasn’t. 

“Bruce lets him drive it?” you question, wholly disbelieving.

“No.”

Enough said.

“You’re gonna be hungover as hell in the morning,” you mumble, taking in his uninhibited demeanor.

He nods that off, “‘S okay. You’ll be here, right?”

You tilt your head, observing him chalantly. “Where else would I go?”

His arms snake tighter around you at that, giving you a little squeeze before relenting. 

“I wanna marry you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it neatly behind your ear. 

You blink rapidly a few times, “What?” You push yourself up on his chest, sitting up on his abdomen.

“Wanna marry you.” He repeats, eyes lidded as he breathes easy under you. “You’re m’favorite person…want you t’be my wife.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “..You want me to be your wife?”

His lips are slightly parted and his pupils are wide as he stares up at you, taking in your features carefully. “‘Course I do.” He brings his fingers up to your cheek, touching you softly with all the wonderment of a little kid. “You’re so pretty.”

You’re quick to return, “So are you.” Especially right now.

He shuts his eyes momentarily, shaking his head morosely, “You gotta stop bein’ so nice t’me,” he lets his hand fall to rest on your thigh. “Don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up,” you lour, “You deserve it more than anybody.”

“No. Not more than you,” his hands knead at your thighs like it’s an instinct. “You deserve everything.” He closes his eyes, tilting his chin up as his head sinks further back into the pillow. “Think I’d do anything you wanted.”

“Jay—”

He continues on, “Want you t’be happy. Wanna make you happy.”

Your face falls into an expression of dazed awe, “You do make me happy.”

He dwindles at that, “No, really happy. Take care of you. Build you a house, give you babies. Wha’ever you want.”

He paws at your thighs, trying to get you to come closer again to him. You lay back down on top of him and his hand instantly buries itself in your hair, stroking softly. “You’re just…you’re so perfect…” He turns his head to mumble against your forehead, “Feel like I dreamed you, sometimes.”

You breathe deeply against the crook of his neck, eyes feeling glassy. “I love you.” It’s all you can get out, and it’s not enough, but it’s all of it. 

“I love you,” he says like he’s trying to turn it into gospel. “So much. I love you so much, so fuckin’ much.” His words start to get lost in his weary babbling.

Your chest feels full and you can distinctly feel every beat of your heart against it. Or maybe it’s Jason’s heart. But what’s the difference?

You press a tender kiss to the nape of his neck. “You’re really sweet when you’re drunk, you know that?”

He hums lowly, head lulling against yours.

You still for a second, finding his breathing has slowed and his hand has seized its movement in your hair. His soft breaths fill the air as you press a kiss to his collarbone before settling in completely. “You’re gonna love when I tell you about this in the morning,” you whisper, letting your eyes shut too.

💗 likes are the poor mans reblog 💗

#jason todd loves his gf #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd imagine #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x y/n

[nkogneatho]

𝐻𝐴𝑈𝑁𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸

—a/n: hii i am pasi and i like to make people cry and suffer.

He didn't mean it. right?

"You are so fucking insufferable. My wife was so much better than you. You can never be like her."

It stung you. your heart raced faster as fear, panic and pain seeped in your blood. You and toji had gotten into a petty arguement earlier. It was only a matter of time before it turned into a full fledged fight the way none of you were backing down. usually, you both would've just been mad for a few hours before apologizing to each other—although your apologies were in the form of long hugs and favorite food—but this one took the worst turn.

The room was silent for thirty seconds after the words left his mouth. Tears threatened your eyes. To be honest, you did not even have the energy to put a fight with them. So you just let them fall.

"I know." You finally spoke but it was a broken whimper. "I know, dammit." You bit your lips, holding in your loud cries. You wanted to sob till the neighbors knew something was wrong, but you suppressed them. "I can never be like her. She was perfect. She was beautiful. She—she would never get on your nerves like me." You stammered between sentences. "I get it. I respect her." Toji looked at you with raging eyes, his adrenaline still hadn't calmed down but you could spot regret when his brow softened a little.

"But, honestly toji...I don't give a fuck about being like her. I never tried to be. All I tried was to— to love you more that her so you could know your worth after you lost her." Every cell in your body tried to gather as much courage as it could to just stand there and being able to say this.

All the anger in his suddenly had vanished, replaced with regret and hatred for himself. He never wanted to make you feel like this. He never wnated to fuck this up, and make you cry. But now he had. He let his hand reached you, only to notice your leg stepping backward.

"I am never going to be enough, right? Fuck. I can't do this."

"No. Don't say it—"

"I think it's time I leave." Feet rushing towards you, his steps heavier.

"Don't say that. Fuck I am so sorry. I didn't mean it, baby. I..." Broken sobs left your lips. He wanted to kiss them away, but he didn't know if he could right now. Big thumb brushed away your thick tears, palm resting against your cheek. He picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. Placing your body on the grey mattress, he climbed on the bed, laying next to you with your head on his arms. There were no words exchanged for the rest of the night. When your sobs stopped, he kissed your forehead as you passed out from exhaustion. The sight bought him both peace and pain. He promised himself that he will make it up to you tomorrow.

The sun was brighter the next morning, or at least that is what Toji felt when the sun rays coming from the window fell directly on his body. Usually, he'd wake up to the shade of your body. His eyes widened as he hastily sat up, finding you nowhere on the bed.

"No. No. No. Please."

He rushed to the bathroom, but it was empty. Kitchen? Empty. Hall? Empty. Wait. He moved closer to the coffee table when he caught a glimpse of what seemed like a note.

"Thank you for everything and I am sorry I wasn't enough. Goodbye Toji."

A loud thud emerged as Toji's kness met the floor, clueless eyes scanning the room. It qas more silent than usual. The kind of silence that was killing him. Has it always been this quiet?

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #jjk x reader #jjk angst #fushiguro toji x reader #toji angst

[ozzgin]

Omg i love your Yandere serial killer with a split persona so much 😭😭, can you do more headcanon about him?? Like does he aware of his other persona seeing reader kinda scared to talk to him normally thank u

Yandere! Serial Killer Scenarios

Featuring the kind, quiet man who has no idea why you look at him with terror in your eyes. This time with an official character design!

Content: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror, dubious/non-consent

[Main Story] | [More original works]

You only attempted to escape once.

His frequent warnings had begun to wear off, and your mind dared to wander towards hope. One day, during his evening walk, you ran to your bedroom and pulled out a train ticket you'd hidden earlier inside a drawer. The small piece of paper weighed heavy in your hand. Come, now, you scolded yourself. It was weeks of careful planning: anticipating his schedule, erasing your tracks, preparing the essentials. You could already smell the worn leather seats, and hear the jarring whistle of departure. Then you'd be far away from this maniac, all but a terrible memory to be locked away.

There was no time for hesitation. You grabbed a small bag and sped towards the station, frequently looking over your shoulder, muttering silent prayers. Once you made it to your compartment, you exhaled in relief. A relief you hadn't felt in months, washing over your body and relaxing your tense muscles. You climbed the stairs, and searched for your seat. Has someone misread their ticket? You found your spot occupied by a stranger.

"What did I tell you about running away?" his deep voice echoed across the empty hall.

The walk back home was silent. You were convinced this was your end. You'd arrive at the house, and he'd cut you into pieces. Your lips curled in a horrified grimace, mind flooded with foreign feelings: your nails plucked apart with pliers, a burning sting after each detachment. The roots of your teeth grinding and screeching within the bone of your jaw, until all that's left is a fleshy, gaping wound. Plop, plop, as each little souvenir falls into the jar.

He slammed the door shut and stared you down. You looked at the floor, but all you could see were the grimy ID cards of all the women who never made it out of this damned house. You were next.

His large hand ruffled your hair, and you glanced up in disbelief.

"This stays between us. Mother better not hear that her soon-to-be daughter in law tried to run away. Especially now that she's warmed up to you. Are we clear?"

You nodded desperately. God, how pathetic of you. But being trapped was better than rotting underground like the rest of them. You just wanted to live.

You can always tell whether it's him, or him. It's the silence. Or lack of, for that matter. He likes the quietness, the muffled ticking of the clock, the busy rattling in the kitchen, your laughs, your chatter. You'll sit together and listen to the rain, or read your books across from each other. There's no need for words, you know you can be at peace.

He likes music. When you hear the record player, you know it's your cue to perform. You exit your room - it's better if he doesn't call you down himself - and descend to the main area. The stairs creak louder, the wallpaper begins to yellow. It's almost as if the house ages with the music, and you tumble back in time.

He's been waiting for you, naturally. How's a man meant to spend his evenings, if not with his adored wife? He'll reach out for your hand, and invite you to a slow dance. Those are the worst moments. The tight, suffocating hold, his deranged stare drilling into your very soul, the whispered promises: that you're forever his, and you'll never find happiness anywhere else. He knows it. It's the same for him, really. Everything he's ever needed lies within your embrace.

Some days, the charade doesn't last long. You simply won't be in the mood to be kissed, to be stripped naked and fondled by his murderous hands. So you'll just pout and gaze ahead. It angers him terribly.

"Wretched whore. Do I look like a beggar?"

He'll shove you aside and make his way out, taking his tools with him. He hates asking for your affection and would rather take his anger out somewhere else. You know he won't hurt you, or force himself on you, which means someone else will have to pay for your disrespect. And yet, it's the only freedom you have around him - the privilege of refusing him and living to see the next day. The rest aren't as lucky. You'd rather not think too deeply about it.

My honey, I know With the dawn that you will be gone But tonight, you belong to me Just to little old me.

What a bizarre thing, to harbor such hatred towards the one you love. You've never met anyone kinder. He's thoughtful, patient, caring. He knows everything about you and lives to serve you. He's your best friend and your lover. He's the one you want to marry one day. But he's also...well...him. And you can't have one without the other.

"No, Mother, it isn't tacky," he barks at the shattered mirror, adjusting your necklace. "And you know what? It's up to (Y/N) to decide if she wants to wear your wedding jewelry."

"It's nice", you respond curtly. You look into the empty reflection and nod. He likes it when you take his side in front of Mother.

"I knew you'd agree. We're a match made in Heaven, aren't we?" he smiles and zips up the old dress. You shiver: wearing a dead woman's gown was not part of your wedding plans. The corset is tightened, and you gasp. His hands are tense.

"I know he proposed to you. And what a stupid grin you had on your face when it happened! You never act like that around me."

He doesn't call me a bitch, for starters, you think to yourself. You shuffle on the bed, trying to loosen up the garment, but he swiftly pins you down onto the mattress.

"Not that it matters. Would you like to know why?" he inquires with a familiar glimmer of jealousy in his dilated pupils. "Because I'll always be your first. You know it, I know it. He never will.

At the end of the day, you belong to me."

To compete with oneself. Nonsense. Utter madness, all of it. The house; the drawer filled with gory trophies; the nightly talks with Mother dearest, whose bones have most likely turned to dust by now; the bloodied scalpels; the embrace of a man who fills you with warmth and terror.

You're part of it now.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere serial killer #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere art #doodle #my art #horror #obsessive love

[mediumgayitalian]

“Hello, twerp.”

Kayla grunts at him. She is focused, intently, on something small enough to be covered up by her hands and curtaining hair; Nico decides it is likely some kind of explosive. There is a reason she, Banned From Arts ‘n’ Crafts For Criminal Reasons, is sneaking into the Hermes’ cabin’s time slot and hiding behind Julia.

Instead of confirming that she is, indeed, planning to blow up at least one of her brothers’ bunks in their sleep tonight, because of Plausible Deniability, Nico swings a leg over the picnic table bench, settling in next to her. She spares a second of attention to blow a raspberry at him, seemingly unprovoked. Nico reaches calmly over, plucks a pair of scissors from Connor’s hands, which he allows because of who he is as a person, and snips a piece of her hair. In response she pulls a notebook from her pocket and puts a little tick mark next to Nico’s name.

“So,” Nico says, choosing to ignore that. “I have a Question.”

“Ten dollars.”

“I’m not paying you, you little shit.”

“Then wonder in silence.”

Nico digs two wrinkled fives from his shoe and slams them on the table, scowling. Kayla pockets them.

“Proceed.”

Nico glares at her, noting her twitching mouth, and remembers that he does, in fact, need her help, and her brother is, in fact, his best friend, so challenging her to a duel to the death is a bad idea on both counts.

(Nonwithstanding the part where she has deadly accuracy with any projectile from almost any semi-reasonable distance. And he has, like, a sword. So.)

“Your brother,” he starts, and he does not need to clarify which one, “is always trying to…feed me.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “he is internally a seventy year old Southern woman. He does that.”

“Fruits.”

“Hm.”

“Oranges, specifically. Like, every single meal.”

“…Ah.”

It is a very knowing ah, Kayla’s little noise, and in fact she sets her project aside. (It is, in fact, an explosive.) She turns slightly on the bench to face him, lips pursed, hands folded. She blinks at him for several moments. Nico holds her gaze, remembering he is out ten dollars.

“My dear brother,” she begins, “my lovely, kind-hearted, smiley, morning person brother, is neurotic.”

Nico waits. This is, apparently, the end of her sentence, as she does not continue.

“I am aware,” he says slowly. “I have been present during every rant about Hollywood inaccuracies about medical sciences.”

She nods sagely. “This is true. You have. You are, however, by virtue of his cripplingly low self esteem and fervent belief that his mere existence is a Literal Actual Curse, spared from much of his most…colourful…contingencies.”

“Contingencies,” Nico repeats.

Kayla nods again.

“Yes. You see, dear future brother-in-law —”

“Cease,” Nico snaps, reddening.

“— our lovely William, also known as your Special Guy, according to Nico With Severe Blood Loss.” continues Kayla, not ceasing, “is under the impression that you, like all people, have a Limit.”

“…A Limit.”

“Yes. A point or level beyond which something does not or may not extend or pass.”

“I know what a godsdamn limit is, Kayla.”

“You seemed confused.”

“I am going to strangle you.”

Openly snickering to herself, she moves on.

“He feeds you oranges because he regularly paces around the cabin in the middle of the night stressing about your vitamin levels,” she explains, finally. “He doesn’t know how to tell you that like a normal person because he’s afraid he’s going to weird you out. Ergo.” She makes a flippant gesture with her hands. “Citrus.”

“Why is he so godsdamn cute,” Nico mutters to himself, then remembers to throw out a hasty, “Thank you,” before scrambling away from the table, ignoring the gathered snickers, and beelining for the the Demeter cabin. “Gods.”

It is empty, thankfully, when he strolls in, except for Miranda in the front gardens, who holds up a finger as he gets closer and whispers to a struggling seedling.

“Hey,” she says after a moment, smiling up at him. “What’s up?”

“I need,” he starts. He purses his lips, rocking back on his heels. His hands make some kind of motion. He’s not sure what, exactly, he didn’t give them permission. “I need.”

Miranda, thankfully, has had years of experience communicating with non-speaking entities, and as such is relatively fluent in Nico. She dusts off her hands, patting the spot beside her. Nico sits as indicated.

“Try a deep breath first,” she instructs. “When your brain is back up and running, try again.”

“It’s running. It’s running a lot.”

“Oh. In that case, might I suggest a small shout of frustration?”

“You may.”

He clears his throat, resting his hands on his diaphragm to Maximize the Output, as he has been previously instructed, and yells. A passing satyr jumps a full five feet in the air and flees. Nico grimaces, calling apologies after them.

“They’re never going to like me,” he grumbles.

Miranda pats his head. “There, there. One issue at a time.”

“Solace,” he says at her invitation, gesturing again. “Oranges.”

“…Ah.”

“He is. You know. Right?”

“I must confess I do not.”

He takes a moment to collect himself. Or, well, he tries to. He’s had an easier time trying to wrangle errant souls surfing along the Styx, but whatever. He literally owns his brain. It Shall submit to him, or he’ll get a new one. Watch.

“Will is…intensely thoughtful.”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Miranda agrees. “Once he brushed past me on the way to dinner and felt that I was going to get a cold, so he took the food I got and exchanged it for soup and veggies and Gatorade and stuff. He forgot to actually tell me that I was about to get a cold, at the time, but it was really nice of him in hindsight.”

Nico makes another loud, strangled bleating noise. Thankfully, no satyrs are harmed.

“He is so!”

“There, there,” Miranda says again. “You’ll get to full sentences soon, I’m sure of it.”

He takes a few moments to have a minor crisis in the peace and tranquility of Friendship. It’s this new thing he’s been trying. Will tells him it’s usually called ‘trust’ and ‘vulnerability’. It is mortifying for the most part but in small doses is kind of cool. Mostly.

“Who takes care of Will?“

“He doesn’t really get sick. Apollo genes and all that.”

“No, like. Emotionally.”

“Oh.” Miranda frowns thoughtfully. “Um. Chiron, maybe? I’m not actually sure.”

“It needs to be me,” Nico stresses. “He always takes care of me, and I want to, like, repay him. Not transactionally,”Nico rushes to clarify, “but, like, mutual care-ily.”

“I see.”

“You see?”

“Yes,” Miranda says sagely. “You must Show Him. That you are Invested in your Relationship.”

“Yes!” Nico cries, gripping her by the elbows. She meets his gaze head on, eyes wide and wizened. “Yes, exactly. Relationship Investment. You’re so smart.”

Miranda preens. “Thank you.” She stands, brushing off her jeans — fruitlessly, she’s got grass stains on top of grass stains on every piece of clothing she owns — and offering Nico a hand. Together they stand and observe the various shrubs, trees, and vines surrounding the cabin, hands on their hips.

Nico narrows his eyes. “Should I just get him oranges?”

“I still don’t fully understand the orange thing. But Will likes peaches.” She leans up and plucks one off of the largest tree, holding it out to Nico. “They make him think of home.”

Nico takes the peach and inspects it. It is, of course, impeccable — thick and heavy, skin soft and unblemished, full enough with juice and flavour to be fragrant even from the arm’s length Nico holds it. This is the kind of peach that wins fairs. This is the kind of peach that sits, prized, in a market, watching as mothers and hipsters claw at each other. This is the kind of peach that immediately upon first touch strikes within you such an intense urge to chuck it at the nearest hard surface and watch it splat into a beautiful explosion of Squelch that Nico has to, hastily, set it down and out of immediate reach.

“It’s perfect,” he declares.

“Don’t throw it at him,” Miranda advises, eyeing the fruit herself.

“Shan’t,” Nico promises, and it doubles at a warning to his brain because he can’t lie to Miranda, obviously, so his brain better Check Itself. There will be no peach throwing. Peach holding, only, and peach giving.

He waves goodbye to Miranda as he hustles off, headed for the bustling infirmary. There have been no great emergencies today — there would be a lot more of Will’s echoed screeching if this were the case — and many people who have walked in have walked out, minutes later, scowling, so now is a good a time as any. He could of course wait until Will is done his shift and they meet by Cabin Seven, like usual, but this is a Pressing Issue. Will can no longer continue to believe that Nico has a Limit, as Kayla had so unhelpfully explained. Nico is Limitless. He is a sine function. He is an eternal abyss. He is the final end of Chiron’s patience, if the horse is to be believed.

Also, the peach is really really tempting and Nico honestly does not have all that much control over his brain. It usually kind of does as it pleases. That’s why he has so many Situations.

“Solace,” he shouts, banging open the screen door loud enough to make everyone inside jump, “GET the hell over here.”

“I. Am.” Will holds up a patient’s arm, which has been hastily butterfly-clamped closed and is now being stitched. “Um. Is it urgent?”

Nico snaps his mouth shut. “No.” He stalks over to where Will is sitting, still bewildered, on his favourite stool, and stands with his arms crossed behind him. He nods at the injured camper, clearing his throat. “Proceed.”

“…Okay.”

Because Will is a Professional, his gaze remains focused on the gaping wound he is fixing. Because no one else at this camp is, everyone else chooses to gawk. Nico lets the fires of Hell enter his eyes, like Father showed him, and glares them all into subservience.

“Alright,” Will says, several minutes later, patting the patient’s knee with a smile. “I’m gonna wrap this, Jen, and you gotta keep it dry, okay? Have ambrosia twice a day like I told you and come see me at the end of the week.”

“There’ll be no scar?” the young girl hedges.

“Not if you follow my instructions,” Will promises. “Although you’ll be just as beautiful with a scar, kiddo, I promise. Ask your mother.”

Jen looks at him doubtfully, but Will is one of those people who’s unbelievably hard to distrust. It’s infuriating, if you’re Nico and committed to the whole goth/emo lifestyle. Probably comforting if you’re a normal person.

She leaves, and it is abruptly very quiet in the infirmary, which is crazy because it is abruptly never quiet at camp unless people are dead, usually, but no one is dead, and people are too godsdamn nosy to flinch away from Nico’s glare, or maybe they’re not scared of him anymore, and hey, isn’t that something. The world is so busy, all the time. Things keep happening. Who’s fault is that, again?

“Nico?” Will asks, rocking back on his heels. His hands are suddenly clean of blood and grime and his scrubs have been swapped out. They stand, also, at the other end of the infirmary, right outside of the on-call room. He looks up, and conversations have resumed, and Will is watching him, intently, bright eyes slightly too wide, front teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, Ace bandage winding, unwinding, winding.

“This is for you,” Nico blurts, and shoves the peach at him.

Will blinks. “Oh.” He stares at the peach, a moment, before a smile erupts on his face. “Oh! Thank you!”

He takes the peach, gently, from Nico’s hands, and holds it close to his chest, wide hands gentle so as not to bruise, smile gone close-mouthed, giddy. The rocking gets every so slightly faster, and the slight breeze from the open screen door ruffles his frizzy hair, and his nose is scrunched, just slightly, enough to wrinkle his dotted feathers, and Nico’s mouth is very, very dry.

“I do not,” he tries, and it grinds along his paper-parched throat, near silent, “I do not have Limits, William.”

The rocking stills. Nico mourns it.

“…Sorry?”

“Limits,” Nico repeats. “I do not have them. I am Limitless. Purge the thought.”

“You have limits,” Will says, alarmed. “Um, we had that talk, right? About pushing yourself and why that is generally regarded as a bad plan.”

“That was you shouting at me in between nectar shots and frantic mothering, actually, but that’s not what I meant.”

Will doesn’t answer, only tilting his head.

“You’re neurotic,” Nico attempts to explain, and as could be expected by literally anyone with a brain this goes poorly, and he rushes to amend. “I mean! Well, you are neurotic — but! There is a but! Stop looking at me like that! You are neurotic but!”

“This is a very bad friendship break up if that is what you are trying,” says Will in a small voice, and Nico resolves to kick his own ass later tonight to Atone.

“I like it,” he hurries to explain. “You and your — neuroses. All of you, I like it. There is no Limit. Capital L. You’re groovy. On — point. Fleek? What do the kids say. I don’t —”

“Oh,” Will breathes, thankfully putting Nico out of his misery, “oh, this is about the oranges.”

Nico nods miserably.

“The oranges are —” Will cuts himself off, staring down at his shoes. “Um, scurvy freaks me out.”

“…Scurvy?”

“It — collagen synthesis is an active process? In your body? And scurvy makes it degrade really quickly. Which kind of tears your body apart by reopening scars. On top of other things. And you — were on a ship, you know. For a while. And you sweat a lot. And you don’t take the multivitamins I give you.”

“Because they’re gross,” Nico says, breathless, “and I’m not — sweaty.”

Wherever sunlight touches Will’s skin he tends to glow, slightly, and his freckles fluoresce the longer his hand takes to traverse the space between them, past the open window, resting, lightly, on Nico’s wrist.

“You are,” he says, gently. “You have — really low magnesium and potassium levels. Just, all the time.” He glances down at the inside of Nico’s wrist. “Right now, actually. Will you eat a banana if I go get you one?”

Will will go get a banana, and Nico will follow him, and they will sit, somewhere, probably the big rock by the lake, as Nico eats it, and Will will eat his peach, and Nico will watch his throat bob, and Will will talk, hands gesturing, peach juice everywhere, and they will stay there, probably, way past sunset, right till curfew, and then they will sprint, as they usually do, to avoid the harpies, and they will go to Nico’s cabin, first, because they always do, and Will will snag an orange as they run past the fruit trees by the Demeter cabin, and he will press it into Nico’s hands, firmly, smiling as he says goodnight, and running back to his own cabin. Where he will, according to Kayla, pace, and worry. Where he will rant about Limits, and how close Nico is to approaching them.

“Will,” says Nico seriously, grabbing his hands. Will’s eyes snap to his, wide, wider than usual, and they are so blue, so so blue, are things usually this blue? He’s startled by it every time. “Will, I am a sine function.”

“I don’t understand,” he admits.

Nico nods. “That’s okay! Just — peaches.” He reaches out and pats the fruit, curling Will’s fingers around them. “For you. Okay?”

Will glances down at the peach. He glances back up at Nico. He looks down, finally, at their hands, twined around the fruit, and holds there, one, two, three seconds.

“Oh,” he says, finally. “Oh, you don’t — oh.”

“Peaches,” Nico repeats, “oranges.” He pulls one hand free and draws a line between them. “You get it?”

“I get it,” Will says, softly. He looks up and smiles, small, private; too-big front teeth just barely peeling out. “You never reach your approached value.”

“I really don’t even get that close.”

“I’m kind of losing the metaphor, here.”

“Okay.”

Nico squeezes their hands together. Will squeezes back, shifting his weight.

“I’m still gonna — you still gotta get your vitamin C.”

“More oranges?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He rubs his finger over the backs of Will’s knuckles; he shivers. Nico meets his eyes and he smiles, widely, hurting his cheeks, and Will smiles back, and he rocks, and Nico is an abyss, and he is falling, falling, falling. “I like oranges.”

#practicing some practical stuff here lmk if it works #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo & will solace #solangelo #nico di angelo/will solace #pining nico di angelo #pining will solace #nico di angelo & kayla knowles #nico di angelo & miranda gardiner #my writing #fluff #autistic will solace #adhd nico di angelo #like a lot on both counts #fic #longpost

[scoonsalicious]

9.1 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 1.8k

Previously On...: You spent a lovely day at the Compound with Bucky, even if he did tell you he thinks you should stop having sex so you can focus on getting to know one another better.

A/N: In the interest of saving my arm, I'm going to move to a temporary every other day posting schedule. So, for the time being, updates will be Mon/Wed/Fri/Sun/Tue/Thus/Sat etc, at least until I am fully better.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Lily paced in the empty common room as she waited for Bucky to get back to the Compound from wherever he’d been when she’d texted him. She was furious. She was more than furious. She was enraged. After all the work she’d put into preparing their ‘friend’ date, he had the gall to stand her up, and not let her know until fifteen minutes after he was supposed to pick her up! What kind of a friend did something like that?

And then! When one of her recruits had come in after lunch, telling everyone who would listen how he’d seen Bucky Barnes ride off the compound grounds on his motorcycle with “a hot piece of ass” on the bike behind him, and that the “piece of ass” was wearing one of Bucky’s Henleys? How the fuck was she supposed to take that, if not a blatant slap to the face of their relationship? It was all her recruits could talk about for the next twenty minutes, gossiping like a bunch of little old ladies with absolutely nothing better to do with their time.

Until Lily made them run ten miles.

She couldn’t believe he was doing this to her. Risking their four years of friendship.

And all for what? Some random slag? Was he really that desperate to get his dick wet? Fuck, she’d be more than willing to help him out with that if he’d just ask her. Why was he being so difficult?

She stopped mid-turn when she heard the sound of the elevator doors opening. Spinning on her heel, she watched as Bucky exited and made his way slowly into the common room, looking like a man about to walk into his execution. Good, she thought. Let him feel ashamed for humiliating me like that.

“Hey, Lil,” he said when he’d finally reached her.

“Don’t you ‘hey, Lil’ me,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “What you did last night was really hurtful, James”

“I said I was sorry, Lil,” he protested with a sigh, hands thrust deep into his pockets. “I didn’t mean to bail on you– it’s just… she was willing to give me another chance after I fucked it up yesterday morning. I didn’t want to risk blowing it.”

Lily scoffed. “So, you decided that impressing some random hookup was more important than keeping plans you made with your best friend of the last four years?”

“She’s not a random hookup, Lil,” Bucky said, his voice rising slightly. “I told you– I really like this one. I want this to work out between us.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “So, what? Her vagina is so magic you’re gonna let it turn you into a shitty friend?”

Bucky seemed taken aback by that, and Lily began pacing again. “Lil?” He cleared his throat, the sound stopping her in her tracks. “Is the reason you’re so bothered by this because… because you have feelings for me?”

Lily could feel all the blood drain from her face, and she was grateful not to be facing him because she knew she’d look as white as a ghost and completely give herself away. 

“It’s okay if you do,” Bucky said into her silence. “I’d never invalidate your feelings, but you have to know that I don–”

“Ego trip much, Jamie?” Lily asked, turning around and giving the cheeriest fake laugh she could muster at a time like this. “You’re my best friend. I mean, I love you, but only as a friend. Don’t be ridiculous.”

She watched in dismay as a weight seemed to be visibly lifted off of Bucky’s shoulders as he leaned against one of the couches; his entire demeanor seeming lighter at her denial, and she was so glad she hadn’t been honest with him. If she had confessed how she felt and he had outright rejected her… Well, she didn’t know what she would do, but she knew it wouldn’t be pretty.

“Why would you even ask me such a thing?” she prodded, attempting to hide the desperation in her voice to know how the seed had been planted. “Honestly, how did that idea even get into your head?”

Bucky shrugged. “You just never seem to like any of the girls I date,” he said. “I thought that might’ve been why.”

Lily scoffed. “I can’t help it that your taste in women is terrible, Jamie,” she said, and felt a twinge of satisfaction when he flinched at her words. “And if I’m not mistaken, I’ve yet to be wrong about a single one of them in the end, no matter how great they seemed at the beginning. But that doesn’t mean that I want to be with you.”

She was lying to him through her teeth, and she knew that she should feel bad about it, but right now, nothing seemed more imperative than to protect herself from his rejection.

“I don’t care how much you like this girl, Jamie,” she went on. “It was still an asshole move to leave me hanging so that you could go fuck some slut you barely know.”

“Hey,” he said, rising to his full height and using a tone of voice that he had never used on her before. An angry tone. “I admit, taking off like that and not giving you more warning was not my finest moment, and I am sorry that I hurt your feelings, I really am. But she is not a slut, and I won’t let you call her that.”

Lily blinked at him for a few beats, her mouth hanging open in shock. He had never, not once in the entire four years of their friendship, raised his voice in anger toward her before. It was a little frightening.

And kind of hot.

“Okay,” she said with a sigh, trying to make her voice sound contrite while hoping for maximum pity at the same time. “I’m sorry. Look, I don’t want to fight with you. It just made me feel like you didn’t care about me. Like I don’t matter to you the second something better comes along.” 

Bucky walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Lil,” he said, giving it a gentle squeeze, “you know that’s not true. You’re one of the most important people in my life. I messed up, and I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

“I feel like you’ve been saying that to me a lot lately, Jamie,” she said, and was rewarded when she saw him look away from her in shame. She’d cut him a little bit of slack. “How do you plan on making it up to me this time?” she asked with a smile.

Bucky’s entire face lit up, and Lily’s breath hitched. God, but he was beautiful when he smiled at her like that. “I was actually thinking,” he began, moving around the room as he grew excited, “that since I got you so pissed off, what better to get it out of your system than to go destroy some shit at The WarZone?”

Lily just stared at him, shocked. “That’s the place owned by that bitch Natasha invited to the bar on Friday, isn’t it?”

Bucky slowly nodded. “Uh, yeah… Major… Her name’s Major.”

Lily scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously, Bucky? After the way she treated me that night? You can’t honestly expect me to patronize her establishment after the way she humiliated me in front of all of our friends!?”

Bucky frowned at her, and Lily felt something in her stomach twist at his expression. “She didn’t embarrass you, Lil,” he said. “She was just responding to something you said to her first.”

“Well, I don’t care if that’s how you see it,” Lily said defensively. “She was still a nasty bitch to me. I don’t want to have anything to do with her, and I’m sure as shit not going to hang out with you in the business she runs.”

Bucky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lil,” he said, as though it were paining him, “it’s really important to me that you make an effort to get along with Major.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Jamie, how could it be that important for me to get along with a random girl you just met the other—” The realization crashed over her like a ton of bricks. “Oh,” was all she could say.

Bucky blushed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Yeah,” he said almost bashfully. “Major’s the girl I’ve been talking about, Lil. She’s the one I went to see last night.”

Lily’s stomach soured at the realization that Bucky had been sneaking around, lying to her these last few days, in order to go see that fucking bitch. “I—” she began. “You had sex with her Friday night, after you brought her home, didn’t you?”

Bucky nodded, not meeting her eye. He had lied to her face, again.

“I honestly can’t believe you’d put some slut you just met over your best friend, Jamie. That makes this whole thing even worse!”

“She is not a slut, Lily,” Bucky said, his voice clipped in renewed anger. “Don’t you dare call her that!”

“Well, what do you call a girl who sleeps with a guy she’s only known for a couple of hours? Would you prefer ‘tramp,’ or ‘floozy’? Something more in line with your times?”

“I had sex with her after only knowing her for a couple of hours,” Bucky said. “So, I guess you think I’m a slut, too.”

Lily’s eyes went wide at the implication of her words. “Of… of course not, Bucky. I would never insinuate–”

“There’s no difference between what she and I did, because we did it together,” he said. “So, either were both sluts, or neither one of us are.”

This conversation was getting horribly out of Lily’s control. “Look,” she said eventually, trying to get things back on track. If she had any hope of surviving this, she was going to have drastically change her tactics. “I don’t even actually care if you slept with her after only knowing her a few hours.” Oh, but she did, she reminded herself. “I’m pissed because ever since you’ve met this girl, it feels like you’ve done nothing but lie to me and toss me aside. That’s not the Jamie I know, and frankly, your behavior is concerning me.”

Bucky’s face softened, his anger dissipating at her words. “You’re right, Lil. I’ve been a dick, and I promise you, the lying is done. And I’m gonna be more considerate when it comes to communicating with you if I have to cancel plans,” he said.

Lily’s jaw twitched at his choice of words. Not ‘I won’t cancel on you again,’ or even ‘I won’t let this new girl come between us.’ Just a veiled threat that he would bail on her for Major, again and again. She was going to have to play this game very, very carefully if she had any hope of actually breaking them up. That meant, for now, keeping him on her side.

“Thank you, Jamie,” she said, plastering on a hundred watt smile. “You don’t know what that means to  me.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

[fluentmoviequoter]

Stay in the Car

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!cop!reader

Summary: Tim disappears from the station, and you and Aaron have to find him. After a heroic leap of faith, you save him in more ways than one.

Warnings: this is inspired by a scene in 6x10 but there's no story spoilers, angst, implied abduction and drug trafficking, injuries, fluff

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

It’s been a slow day in the Mid-Wilshire station. You and your husband Tim were called back to assist with a case, but so far, all you’ve done is sort through paperwork.

“I thought we had rookies for this kind of thing,” you whisper conspiratorially.

“They’re busy babysitting crime scene,” Tim replies.

You nod as you slide the last form into its proper place. Tim pushes his empty box away and sighs. Now there’s truly nothing to do.

“So, this is where the party is,” Aaron teases as he and Nolan return.

“Yeah,” you agree sarcastically. “It’s a rager, as you can see.”

The detective you’ve been assisting gathers his papers and thanks you quickly. Alone and bored again, you ask Aaron how the streets are today.

“Quiet. Not so much as a speeding ticket so far,” he tells you as he collapses into the seat beside you.

“The Q-word,” Nolan reminds him. “Make sure Harper isn’t around before you use it.”

Tim shakes his head and digs his phone out of his pocket. You tap your foot against his leg under the table, but as his brows draw together, he doesn’t look up at you.

“You alright?” you ask him.

“I have to go.” Tim stands as he speaks, and only spares a glance in your direction.

“Where?”

Tim jogs toward the door as he answers, and you can’t make out part of what he says. It sounds like laundry then, "I love you."

“What’s that about?” Nolan asks.

“No idea. Someone must’ve called for backup,” you guess.

“Probably someone at Hollywood. They’re getting calls.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Aaron nods at you as you stand. When you walk out of the station you see Tim’s truck and his shop still parked in their usual spots. You walk past both vehicles, but there’s no sign of him.

“You lookin’ for the cop that just walked out?” a man on the sidewalk asks.

“Yes, I am. Did you see where he went?” you reply.

“Guy led him to a truck. Figured they were friends or somethin’.”

Your eyes widen as your heart rate increases. Tim wouldn’t have just left while on duty without telling you. To provide backup, sure, but not to get in a truck with a civilian.

“Did you see the truck? Where it went?” you question.

“Nah, miss. Sorry.”

You run back inside and straight to Aaron. Nolan is no longer waiting with him, but Aaron has nothing but time, and you need to find your husband.

“Did you drive to work today?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he answers slowly. “Why?”

“We need to go. Tim just left and might need backup. He’s not on a call, though.”

“Just take a shop.”

“No, Aaron. I don’t know where he is or who he’s with, and I don’t need to spook anyone into killing him!” you exclaim.

Aaron makes no move to hand over his keys, but you need a personally owned vehicle to stay incognito. Tim has his truck keys, so you need to convince Aaron to help you; if not for you, for Tim.

“Aaron, keys!” you demand.

“We don’t even know where they’re going,” Aaron argues.

“And we won’t find Tim if we don’t do something.” You take a deep breath and run your thumb over your wedding band. “I can’t lose him, Aaron.”

“I know,” he assures. “But I’m going with you. Tim needs all of us. Whatever that text was must've been important.”

Aaron waves as he steps past you, and you follow him to the parking area. When he removes a leather key fob from his pocket and you see a Lamborghini sitting in his spot, you momentarily forget about Tim and his sudden disappearance.

“Aaron, we can’t…” you begin.

“Forget about the car. Let’s go!”

You climb into the passenger seat as Aaron starts the car with an obnoxious rev of the engine.

“Habit,” he murmurs as he pulls the gear shift into reverse. “Where are we going?”

“It’s been at least fifteen minutes since he walked out. They could be miles in any direction by now,” you reply.

“But they wouldn’t have gone anywhere, right?” Aaron asks as he looks both ways to turn. “It may have been last-minute, but they had a plan.”

“What did he say when he left?”

“That he loved you.”

“No, before that.”

“Oh, uhm.” Aaron pauses to think as he passes a truck going under the speed limit. “Something about a laundromat, I think.”

“Did he say laundromat, laundering, or laundry?”

“What’s the difference? Besides washing clothes and the illegal money trade, I mean.”

“Landry,” you realize aloud. “He said Landry as in Pierre Landry!”

“Okay,” Aaron replies. “Who is that?”

“Head toward the Hills.”

“Finally,” Aaron mumbles.

“One more favour?” you request.

“Anything, you know that.”

“Drive this car like you want to. Grey alerted dispatch that we took a POV.”

“Now that’s a favour I’d love to do.”

You sit back in the passenger seat as Aaron shifts into another gear. He swerves in and out of traffic as you think of your husband. Tim has to be safe, because you’ll lose yourself if he’s not.

“What exactly is the plan?” Aaron asks.

You snap yourself out of your racing thoughts of Tim to say, “I’ll know when I see it.”

Aaron nods to himself, but you can tell he’s not convinced. Your plan certainly isn’t detailed, probably not even smart, yet you have to trust that it’ll work. It has to work.

“Slow down,” you tell Aaron. “See the brown truck in the right lane, thirty yards ahead?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Aaron answers. “Oh.”

The back window is broken out and the driver is swerving within the boundaries of his lane, but you can’t see why. When the truck drifts toward the car in the next lane, they hit their brakes and lay on the horn. Aaron swings into the lane behind the truck and ignores the people who honk at him.

With the new vantage point, you see a gun in the bed of the truck. As you lean toward Aaron’s dash to get a better look, you see two people moving in the cab. The driver raises a knife, and then they duck down toward the seat again as he swerves toward the barrier between the lanes. The truck moves over a lane, and the surrounding traffic has given him plenty of room to wreck without harming anyone. The new bumper surrounding the erratic (and armed) truck driver provides the perfect opportunity.

“Get beside him,” you tell Aaron. “But not too close. Stay away from his door.”

He nods and speeds up to drive into the lane beside the truck. You toll your window down and unclip your seatbelt as Aaron’s car lines up with the truck bed.

“What are you doing?” Aaron yells over the wind.

You pull yourself through the narrow window to sit atop the door. “Saving my husband!” you answer loudly. “Keep it steady and fall back the minute I jump.”

“But you-“

“Thorsen!” you interrupt. “Fall back the minute I jump. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You raise your hands to the hood of his car and carefully pull your knees up. When your right foot reaches the door, you push yourself to stand and use your hands to stay steady. You count down in your head 3, 2, 1, and then you jump. Aaron hits the brakes and the distance between you and him increases quickly.

When you hit the truck bed, you roll before you catch yourself. With a calculated movement, you wait until it swerves again to push yourself up and toward the broken back window. Pushed against the body at the back of the cab, you reach your arms inside and grab the driver’s arm. It isn’t until you push yourself in further that you actually see Tim. Tim’s eyes meet yours, and he exhales sharply as you pull the driver back against his seat.

“Move,” you tell Tim.

He pulls himself up from the floorboard and into the passenger seat. The driver finds his knife again and begins slinging it aimlessly over his shoulder, aiming for you. Tim doesn’t hesitate to move across the cab of the truck and pull the driver’s hands away from you.

“Tim!” you warn as the truck begins drifting toward the curb.

You keep your arms locked around the driver’s shoulders but watch Tim. He takes a deep breath and leans back. As he shoves his feet against the man’s side, he grimaces in pain but doesn’t stop. The momentum knocks the driver against the door beside him and his foot slides off the gas pedal. You move your left arm to his neck and hold him tightly as you reach for the steering wheel with your right.

Tim slips forward again to avoid a punch from the driver and extends his arm toward the brake pedal. He groans as he pushes it to the floor, and you use all of your strength to pull the driver back and away from Tim. The truck lurches to a quick stop and you turn so that your side makes impact with the broken window frame rather than your face or chest.

Sirens sound behind you and grow louder quickly now that you aren’t moving. The driver reaches for something under his seat, but you grab the gun that slid forward in the truck bed and aim it at his temple.

“Drop it,” you command. “Now.”

Tim groans again as he sits up, but he keeps his eyes on the man you’re holding. You loosen your grip and open the driver’s side door so the approaching officers can get him out and into custody. He takes the opportunity to roll out, but Aaron pulls up beside him before he can push himself up and run.

“That was amazing!” Aaron applauds as he exits his car.

Tim hisses in pain, and you turn toward him quickly.

“That was dumb,” he argues.

“Are you okay?” you ask him.

Tim cradles his arm but nods. You hop over the side of the bed and open the passenger door. Tim leans toward you as you lay your hand on his shoulder.

“Where’s Landry?” Nyla asks as she and Angela run toward the truck.

“Whoa,” Angela interjects. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Driver didn’t say much, but he radioed that he would meet someone at John Anson,” Tim answers.

“Get an ambulance,” Angela tells a passing officer.

“John Anson Ford? The theater?” Nyla clarifies.

You tune out their conversation as you squat beside the truck. Tim’s boots are scuffed from breaking the window, but other than the scrapes you can see and his arm, he seems relatively fine. You release a relieved, albeit shaky, breath as you stand.

“It’s not high season for the theater,” you add. “Landry could be using it as a distribution base for his new product.”

“He’ll get suspicious when reckless back there doesn’t show,” Tim says.

“We’ll send someone in,” Nyla assures him. “You’re going to the hospital.”

“Don’t,” Angela warns when Tim opens his mouth. “Argue with your wife about it.”

She winks at you as she and Nyla walk toward the other officers waiting behind you. The ambulance navigates through the crowd of police cars and officers, and you look into Tim’s eyes.

“You scared me,” you murmur, taking his hand.

“You jumped from a moving car onto another moving car, but you want to play that card?” Tim challenges.

“Are you really okay?” you ask.

“I promise. There is one thing I’d like you to do- two, maybe.”

You nod quickly, and Tim looks over your shoulder at the approaching EMTs.

“Go finish this case, and make sure it’s over.”

“Tim, I-“

“I need to know. And you do too.”

“Okay,” you agree. “What’s the second thing?”

Tim tips his chin up, and you smile before you kiss him gently. He moves his good arm toward your waist, but you step back.

“You’re sure?” you check.

Tim nods, and you demand that he keep you updated as you step back.

“I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you,” he replies. “Get Landry.”

You salute Tim and smile when he rolls his eyes. Tim will give the paramedics a hard time, but he’s safe, and that’s all that matters.

“Grey,” you call as you enter the bullpen.

“Thank goodness,” he sighs. “Everything wrapped up?”

“Detectives are closing the case as we speak, and Landry is already booked and processed. We also grabbed two distributors who already had product on them.”

“Then get out of here.” Wade smiles as he adds, “And take your husband with you.”

You furrow your brows. Tim should be at the hospital still; it’s only been a few hours since you left him with the EMTs. Wade points toward the roll call room, and you see your husband sitting against a table with his arm in a sling.

Without another word, you walk away from Sergeant Grey and toward Tim. He looks up when you open the door, and his shoulders drop when he sees you.

“We got Landry,” you say before he asks.

“I’m fine,” Tim tells you, sensing that you have a question too.

“Good. Ready to go home?”

“As long as you’ll stay in the car this time,” Tim jokes.

He stands, and you hug under his uninjured arm. You feel him relax before his wraps his arm around you and ducks his head toward your shoulder.

“You mean more to me than you’ll ever know,” he murmurs. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“I love you, Tim,” you whisper. “But don’t ever make me do that again. You walked out and then you were gone.”

“Hey.” Tim waits until you look at him to finish, “Never again.”

You kiss him quickly and then step back and take his hand. “I promise to stay in the car all the way home if we can get food on the way.”

Tim rolls his eyes, but the way he keeps you close as you walk to his truck – which you have to drive now – makes you think he really was just as worried about you as you were for him.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fic #tim bradford #the rookie #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯

[claiestve]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ꨄ Isaac

˜”* ❝𝙄'𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 '𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡?❞

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴏꜰ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ

⎯୨⎯ " " ⎯୧⎯

You weren’t sure about this. You knew it would look kind of crazy but he wanted to see you again too, right? There you were, standing at Isaac’s front door. It’s not too crazy, right? You used to live here. Of course, you’d know the address. 

Nonetheless, you knocked on the door. You wanted to see him again. That day both of you caught up was… it was a lot but you didn’t have time to stay and were already emotional. It was a whole mess. 

“Hello? — Oh! Pickle?”

“Ah, I’m sorry. I know this is unexpected and I know you get anxious answering the door but I thought I’d see you again because I missed you and I hope you missed me…”

His shock was evident through the stare he gave you. He planned to see you again first, but here you were.

“Oh my,” You started to panic from his silence, “I’m sorry, I should’ve known better. I should’ve reached out before this–”

“It’s okay, Pickle. Come in.”

You walked through the door, hearing it close behind you. It felt weird to be back in this house. Though, it felt like home. 

“So,” He guided you to the couch as if you didn’t know where it was, “What brings you here?”

“You.”

What.

“Like wanting to be with you…”

What the fuck are you saying?

“Like … okay it sounds a bit crazy–”

It does, yes.

“Don’t worry. I missed you too, Pickle. The house has been empty without your… clumsiness and prying.” He teased. 

If you didn’t feel embarrassed before, you do now. Not that that was Isaac’s intention. Never. You should’ve known that coming to his house and stumbling over your words would result in him winding you up. 

“So… that’s it. I’ll take my leave now–”

“You can stay.”

Isaac’s eager tone stopped you from getting up. As much as you wanted to get out of there and leave because of how awkward this felt, you couldn’t. Not when he sounded like that. 

You knew that he knew what he was doing. Like you had your little tricks, so did he. Using just the tone of his voice to make you stay—the sound of slight fear in his voice paired with excitement. He knew it would work on you, as it has before. And anyway, you couldn’t complain when you’d pull the exact stunts on him before.

“You can stay with me. Don’t you want to? That’s why you came here, right, Pickle?”

“Ugh,” You pouted, “You know me too well. Is that okay though? Me staying?”

“It would be a pleasure. Want me to make you some tea?” Isaac stood up and smiled. 

He was clearly excited about you staying (and his stupid mind game working on you).

“Well since you seem so eager, yes. Just because I don’t want to bring your mood down..”

He laughed from the kitchen,

“I missed you, Pickle! Don’t act like you don’t know that.”

“I missed you too.” 

But that one was kept to yourself. You knew he couldn’t hear that, you just wished the message got to him either way. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

here u gooo a happy ending cuz im not THAT mean. i can quit angst for a lil while out of the kindness of my heart

this was a bit later than i intended n im soso sorry, ive been so much in my head n everytime i tried to finish this, my mind went blank BUT !, its here now

#zsakuva #asmr #sakuverse #zsakuvaxreader #isaac #isaac rhoades #u can def see where i got stuck #helpzkddk #sigh i gotta stop this #happy pride month by the way #for the gay people i love yall #ummmm okayyy thank u for reading ily

[avonne-writes]

A quick birthday drabble for @swifty-fox 🩷🎂 Happy birthday, dear!

Here's Chick Harding's POV, picking up from the end of my latest HS AU chapter. It’s Gale's 18th birthday 😊

When Georgia said she was going to go get the birthday cake they ordered for Gale, Neil thought she'd be back in half an hour. But it's been two hours and there's still no sign of her. As he predicted, the boys didn’t really need any distraction at first, but when he hears the sound of them coming down from upstairs, he knows that time's up. He’s gonna have to cover for Georgia or spoil the surprise. From his seat in the old armchair, he increases the volume of the soccer game he’s watching and pretends to be engrossed in it. He hopes that it catches their attention instead of the empty driveway.

As they approach, he hears them rib each other about one of those video games they play online with their friends, then Bucky throws himself down on one end of the sofa, Gale on the other. Bucky stretches his lanky limbs wide and yawns.

"Chelsea-Arsenal?" He says before he has even closed his mouth. "Ugh, that was one shitty game. Look at that corner. Did he wanna shoot a pigeon or something?"

Neil chuckles. He loves that Bucky has no filter whatsoever when he's comfortable, and it fills him with warmth that they are close enough now to share mundane moments like this. It feels like belonging. He feels blessed that he took his chance and asked Georgia out that hazy summer day one and a half years ago. Every day with her and her family has been a gift so far. Even the hard ones.

At the thought, he glances over at Gale, who's staring out the window instead of watching the game. His legs are curled up under him. On the opposite end, Bucky swings his own up on the cushions to sprawl sideways on the couch. He’s too long to fit, but instead of settling down with his knees pulled up, he starts kneading at Gale’s thigh with his feet. Gale ignores him. How, Neil can’t fathom, but the boy looks like he’s so used to that kind of behaviour that it doesn't even register to him.

"Where's Georgia?" He asks Neil after a moment.

There’s an edge to his voice that Neil can’t place, something anxious. Always so hard to read. Neil wishes he could just comfort him with a hug, a friendly clap on the back or a terrible soccer game rerun, but Gale continues to be unreceptive to him. It makes sense, he thinks, stomping down on the anger rising in his chest as he thinks of Gale's father. Gale doesn’t know, but he and Neil had an altercation after they moved Gale out. But Neil can be intimidating if he wants to be. He doubts that the alcoholic bastard is going to cause them trouble again.

"Getting some groceries." Neil lies smoothly.

Bucky groans. "What groceries? Fridge is chock full already, there's nowhere to put it."

"Damned if I know, boy." Neil spreads his hands, faking indifference. It works seamlessly on Bucky, but a hint of sadness appears on Gale’s blank face.

"I would've gone with her if I'd known."

No wonder that Georgia asked Neil to cover for her. She must have known that Gale would want to spend time with her today and to help out wherever he can.

Neil opens his mouth to say something but Bucky beats him to it. "I can take you to Walmart if you want."

Amusement tugs Gale's lips into a smile. "Walmart?"

"Anywhere you want." Bucky straightens his legs to plop them on Gale’s lap. He scratches his chest. "See? Chivalry isn’t dead."

Gale's smile widens, digging into the apples of his cheeks. He shoves Bucky's legs off.

To Neil's relief, the sound of tires rolling on the driveway and a purring engine interrupt the conversation. Finally! She's back, and Neil hasn't fucked up and ruined the surprise yet. He pushes himself up from his seat and stretches, cracking his spine. Bucky yawns again, then gets up to walk off towards the front door with resignation, expecting bag upon bag of food that he’ll have to haul in from the car. Neil is about to follow him when he hears Gale's tentative voice.

"Neil?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

He can count the number of times Gale addressed him directly on one hand. He turns to look at him curiously. Gale is taller than him, but he looks small as he smooths a hand over his long hair in discomfort.

"I was wondering..." Gale clears his throat, then stands up straight and looks Neil in the eye. "...if you knew any part-time jobs you could recommend. Maybe at a garage? Or something. I can learn anything."

Neil hums, impressed. "I'm sure we can find something." An idea occurs to him. "You’re good with spreadsheets, aren't you?"

When Gale nods, he grins. "I think I have just the thing for you."

That draws a smile to Gale's lips too.

The front door opens, and first Bucky, then Georgia walks in, twin grins on their faces, eyes squinting in their joy. Her auburn hair looks windswept, tumbling over her knitted green scarf, and her cheeks are flushed from the cold. Neil wants to sweep her into his arms and kiss her skin warm again, wants to hear her laugh against his chest.

But he’s not the one getting hugs and kisses today. It's not his day, and he doesn’t mind it one bit, because he gets to see Gale's expression shift from curiosity to surprise, then joy as he spots the box Georgia carries carefully to the kitchen. She sets it down on the table and opens the carton to reveal Gale's cake. It’s covered in fondant decorations shaped like his favourite things, and cursive letters wish him a happy birthday in the middle of it.

"Oh." He says when he sees it, then looks up at her.

Neil can’t see his expression but he sees hers crumple for a moment as she pulls him into a hug and kisses the side of his face. She closes her eyes as she holds him close.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

Gale mumbles a thank you into her shoulder.

After a moment, Bucky steps closer too and wraps his long arms around them both. That makes them all laugh. For a second, Neil feels out of place, but they pull back from the embrace, and the next thing Georgia does is drawing Neil into one too. She smells like the sweetest flowers and fresh winter air, like Christmas and home. To Neil, she's all that and more.

She gives him a sheepish smile when she steps back. "How did you know I was going to get groceries too?"

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #gale cleven #john egan #chick harding #georgia egan #hs au #my writing #swifty-fox

[peaches-cs]

Expresso(John Soap MacTavish x Reader)

Summary: Johnny will be the first to admit that after years in the military he has a few screws loose. Or it might’ve been because of the bullet wound he took to the head. Sure he knows what he’s doing isn’t healthy. Call it obsession and delusion if you will. But, now he’ll do anything just to spend another second in your company. You belongs to him, you just don’t know it yet.

Warnings: John Soap MacTavish x reader, 18 +, Dark mature themes, unhealthy relationships, gore, violence, eventual smut(may have Non-Con), Dub-Con, kidnapping, stalking, creepy behaviors, death, F.Reader, Café AU but dark and twisted

Part 1

It wasn’t until recently Johnny has discovered just how challenging readjusting to civilian life would be. Of course such a drastic change would be difficult for anyone. Especially since he wasn’t supposed to be discharged so early. It was unexpected. The man is antsy. He hates sitting still, as he’s been forced to do since he took a bullet to the head. Between neurology appointments and physical therapy he’s been bound to his apartment for months. There’s an itch in his skin, the need to have some kind of busy routine to get through the endless bland and boring days of spring. His mum even came to visit him, helped take care of him after he acutely lost his ability to walk properly and speak in clear sentences. Even his memory was affected for a while.

Eventually his doctor gave him the okay to try finding employment. He’s gotten most of his functions back up to par, but sometimes he gets nasty migraines that make him want to vomit. As soon as he returned home from that same appointment, he grabbed his lap top and plopped down on his couch to begin job hunting.

It sounds perfect. Something to fill that empty void in his life even though he gets enough money due to military benefits and disability to let him live without a job. Being a Sergeant paid comfortably too. So, money is not truly a problem. After an hour of lazily searching with a glass of whiskey in his hand through different positions of different opportunities, he doesn’t find any that sounds appealing.

Johnny groans and sets aside his lap top, stretching his arms above his head before standing up. He scratches his stomach while walking lazily to the fridge. After tugging open the door, he narrows his eyes and huffs in annoyance at the emptiness inside of it. Time to go shopping.

After pulling on jeans and a basic black Tee, he takes the elevator down to the lobby of his apartment complex and exits the building. Swinging his set of keys around his index finger, he strolls down the sidewalk. He slows after spotting a quaint little café up ahead. He always passes it on his way to the shop. Except this time the now hiring sign catches his eye. Now that he’s retired from the military permanently, the man’s got a hell of a lot of time on his hands. So, he opens the door and enters, looking around curiously.

He strolls into the homey little building and is instantly hit with the smell of chocolate mixed with coffee. It’s cozy and warm, with windows that look out into the city and green plants in pots seated by them. The lights glow a warm yellow and the walls are painted a medium dark brown. It’s not busy, as expected due to the time of day being late morning. The early rush has clearly dissipated.

What really captures his attention is the lass behind the counter, busying herself with cleaning the counters in the coffee making area. When she hears him come in due to the bell at the top of the door, she turns around and meets his gaze with a smile that has his skin slightly flushing. She’s a pretty thing dressed in a black apron. He keeps his eyes on her face. Hell, he deserves a medal for not looking…lower.

“Can I help you, sir?” She asks in a sweet voice, using one of those higher pitched customer service tones. He gives her a lopsided grin and nods his head. Oh she could help him in a lot of ways, he thinks as he finally gives in and lets his eyes briefly flicker over her figure. The way the apron is tied around her accentuates her waist, tits, and hips. Such a bonnie thing she is.

Call it rash or dumb, Johnnys never been good at planning ahead- or thinking with his brain rather than his dick. Especially when cute little lassies like her are involved. She seals his decision in an instant when she looks at him with her pretty eyes. He points his thumb in the direction of the help wanted sign on the window.

“Aye, I’m interested in applyin for a job”

——————

Today was a usual day. Nothing special, nothing grand, morning rush was awful as always, and then you have class later after work. You hum to yourself as you clean up any spilt coffee beans or creamer by the machines. Finally, you get some peace now that the busiest time of day has passed.

Sadie, the old lady who owns this café and lives in an upstairs apartment above the restaurant, has trusted you to run pretty much everything by yourself. Well, you and Aiden whose a coworker of yours that became your friend that’s off today. You’ve been working for Sadie since…well your beginning year of college. Now you’re a senior, about to finish the spring semester.

Since her daughters and sons moved away, Sadie’s been alone. When you waltzed into her café, nearly begging for a job she took you in a heartbeat. She’s like a grandmother to both you and Aiden. However, you can never be here all the time and neither can Aiden, so you told her that it would be best to get another employee on board to handle things. Thus, this has resulted in a little help wanted sign being placed in the window of the café.

What was supposed to be a normal shift takes a turn when a nearly six foot hulking man built with bulky muscle and adorning an overgrown Mohawk saunters into the café. You’re not blind, he’s clearly attractive in a boyish yet gruff way. Some scars on his chin are visible. He’s got tan skin and beautiful blue eyes. He seems older than you. While you’re twenty two, he looks to be somewhere between late twenties, possibly thirty.

“Can I help you, sir?” You ask as he approaches the counter and you set down the cleaning supplies you were using. He gives you a playful smirk, one that gets your heart fluttering a bit. You stand in front of the register and get prepared to take his order.

“Aye, I’m interested in applyin for a job, '' He replies, scottish accent strong in his voice. You yourself have an American accent since you grew up in the states before deciding to move here to the United Kingdom. His words shock you for a moment, your lips pat in surprise.

“Oh! Got it, let me go grab the application paper for you to fill out” You give him a grin, relieved that someone actually decided to show interest for the barista position. Anyone would literally do. You’ve been waiting for the day someone came to apply and finally you’d get some extra help around the cafe. “I’ll have you fill this out and then I’ll just have a small interview to conduct after I give it a read” You tell him while snatching an application form off of the wall that’s clipped to a clipboard. After getting a pen from your breast pocket, you hand it to him.

Your fingers brush his for a moment when you pass him the pen and application. Something slightly uneasy though stirs in your stomach when his hand lingers against yours a little too long. You gently pull away.

“Yev got it lass” He responds and tucks the clipboard underneath his arm, holding the pen in that same hand. With his free arm, he extends it to you. The pure muscle rippling from underneath his tight shirt that stretches across his broad chest is crazy. “The names Johnny by the way, pretty lil place yeh got here” He greets. You place your hand in his and he shakes it gently, making you feel the rough calluses and collection of scars on his skin. His gaze flickers from your face down to where your hands connect.

“Oh it’s all thanks to Sadie, she owns this place not me” You explain while letting go of his hand. Your elbows rest on the counter as you stare up at Johnny, leaning over the counter slightly.

“Where is she at?” He asks while glancing around the empty café, running a hand through his Mohawk as he does so.

“Sadie’s at a doctor's appointment, I fear she is getting older” You sigh softly and glance at the ceiling where you know her apartment is above. You’ve been up there countless times to help Sadie with little things such as errands and carrying groceries.

“Ah, makes sense. Will I need to win her approval to get hired? Does she take bribes?” He jokes with a goofy smile that makes you giggle softly and shake your head. Your shoulders relax a bit.

“The only one you need to impress is me….and yes I do take bribes” You smirk slightly before turning around to finish cleaning up some things, your back facing him as he chuckles at your comment. “Have you ever worked as a barista before?” You ask while placing a new garbage bag over one of the cans hidden under the counter. A man like him coming to work at a tiny little café? He is the least likely person you’d expect to be interested in a job at a cozy hole in the wall like this.

“Oi has the interview process already started? I haven’t even filled out the application” He has a playful whine in his tone. You place your hands on your hips as you turn to face him.

“I lied, It truly started the moment you walked in and asked to apply” You tease.

“Well…ah suppose I’ve never been a barista in meh life, nor have ah worked in a café” He says as he glances down at the application, twirling the pen in his opposite hand as he holds the clipboard in the other. He glances up at you, eyes finding yours as he grins with his perfect white teeth. “But, I’m a very quick and…efficient learner lassie” He says that last part lowly, tone dropping an octave before he turns around on his heel and sits himself down in one of the chairs near the window to get started on his application.

—————

He watches her like a hawk, vaguely aware that he’s being a bit creepy by staring at her unblinking as she reads his application. Yet she’s so distracted she doesn’t even notice. He likes her already. Fuck. He swears his pupils dilate when she runs her tongue over her bottom lip while she focuses on her task. Makes him wonder how good she’d be with her mouth wrapped around his cock. God. He needs to get laid. Sure on base he wasn’t prone to Messing around with barracks bunnies or nurses from the med ward. And yes there are dating apps and shite specifically designed for hookups, but he hates going on those sites. He hasn’t been clubbing in a long while too. Needless to say his interaction with women has been…zero within the last six months.

Johnny is snapped from his thoughts after she gently sets the clipboard down with another bright smile. The interview was short and sweet, the basic questions were asked and he answered them. Johnny knows people. He knows how to work them. How to appeal to them. It all came with learning how to efficiently go undercover for certain missions.

“Okay, your charms have wooed me. You’re hired Johnny” She says and crosses her arms over her chest. He wonders why she said yes, especially since he has no experience whatsoever being a barista. But, he has an inkling that it had something to do with when she read over a particular question that asked what he did before he wanted to work at the café. Johnny was truthful, putting that he was medically discharged from special forces.

He noticed the slight frown on her lips and the way those pretty eyes were glazed over with sympathy for him while she read it. Pretty and nice, a lovely combination. Johnnys always gone for her type. Clearly studious from the textbooks lying behind the counter, medical related ones. A university student for sure. She’s a hard worker and he admires that.

“Thanks bonnie, seriously, thank yeh” Johnny decided to play up the part. He wants more sympathy points from her. He likes seeing her worried about him, makes his heart flutter at the thought of having a pretty lil thing like her concerned about his well being. “Life’s been pretty…hard since I’ve been discharged, wanted this job to make some money and have somewhere to actually be…homes lonely” He shrugs, a ‘sad’ smile on his lips.

“It does sound rough…I’m sorry'' She says and gets up from the chair, placing a hand on his strong shoulder. From how close she is he can smell her perfume and it makes him want to bury his face in her neck to get a better whiff. “I hope things get better, if you need anything tell me” She offers with a kind grin. He wonders if she tastes as sweet as she acts. “You can start with me for tomorrow's morning shift for training, sound good?” She asks him.

“Sounds absolutely perfect bonnie” He replies and leans back in the chair, eyes focused on the way her ass moves while she walks away to the back of the counter to start closing. In one afternoon he’s somehow managed to find a nice little job…and some entertainment too.

——————

You’re surprised when Johnny stays with you until close, yapping away as you put things away and clear off tables to clean them up. The café closes at 4 PM every evening. You’ve tried your best to get rid of him. He literally refuses to go and you’ve run out of excuses to get Johnny to leave. He follows you around like a puppy. Hell, even when you’re outside locking up for the night he stays standing right beside you. With only spending four hours with Johnny, you’ve learned a lot about the man.

While overwhelming…it iis sort of nice. Besides, you remember what he said earlier about adjusting to civilian life again. You feel bad…he must be lonely. He served his country, the least you could do is provide some company for him.

“So you don’t have any family here in the city?” You ask, bag slung over your shoulder as you yank the key from the keyhole in the door. Johnny shakes his head no.

“Nah lass, they all live on the countryside-on the farm” He sighs while shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“No girlfriend? Boyfriend? Friends?” You try to pry further. If he has no one to go home to, that just makes you even more sad. Well, while you own your shitty little apartment not far from your university, at least you’ve got friends to fall back on for company.

“Nope” Johnny says with a shrug. “All my friends are deployed lassie, I’m all alone-. As for a girlfriend…I’m taking applications if yer interested bonnie” His lips curl into a smirk. Your heart does a little flip at the boyish grin he shoots your way.

“Haha very funny, now go home you’ve been here for hours!” You tell him and cross your arms over your chest. Admittedly, your social battery is a bit low at the moment, especially considering you’re going to have to study until bed tonight. That thought alone makes you irritable and exhausted already.

“And not walk yeh home? The city is a dangerous place!” Johnny exclaims, dramatically looking at the alley ways in the immediate area. Despite being socially tired, Johnny's playful demeanor does make you crack another smile.

“I’m perfectly capable of defending myself” You assure while showing him the pepper spray connected on a metal ring that holds your keys for work and home. Johnny blinks at the sight of the tiny defense weapon before scoffing, raising a single brow at you.

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but Someone could easily snatch yeh off the street- that wee thing of pepper spray won’t do much, common I’m walkin yah” He finalizes and shoots down any argument you’ve begun preparing in your head. A frown forms on your lips and with a sigh, you begin walking in the direction of your apartment. As you brush past him, you’re acutely aware of the hand he hovers over your lower back.

The situation is weird. Johnnys nice and he hasn’t given you any reason to be wary of him…but maybe he’s being too nice. It begins to process in your head as the two of you walk down the street that you’ve only just met four hours ago and now he’s walking you to your apartment. He stayed with you an extra FOUR hours until close, just sitting there watching you and making conversation. Is that not a little strange or are you overthinking things?

Eventually you arrive at your apartment. Those little red flags are shoved to the back of your mind. He’s just being nice probably.

“Well…thanks, see you tomorrow morning Johnny” You smile and readjust your bag over your shoulder. Johnny looks elated at the moment. You wonder why, but don’t question it.

“Night lass” He gives you a wave as you start to enter the apartment complex you live in. Little do you know as you make your way up the stairs, he’s watching the windows to try to see what floor of the building you live on.

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x y/n #John soap MacTavish x y/n #John soap MacTavish x reader #johnny

[gayeddieagenda]

several sentence sunday

tagged by @iinryer <3

this is kind of a lot of sentences but i fiiiinally finally started writing something i didn't hate today. thank god!! u can't tell yet but this is the lead-in to post-s7 babysitting fic :)

—

Who's Eddie hiding from? His kid is eight hundred miles away. The only person who's been in Eddie's house other than him in the past two weeks is Buck, and any part of Eddie that told him to hide from Buck burned away a long time ago.

The loneliness is crushing. Buck's been trying to keep it at bay--following Eddie home after shifts, making him dinner and suggesting things for them to do on their days off until Eddie agrees to something. When his list of suggestions runs dry, they do chores, grocery runs and folding the laundry and cleaning Eddie's kitchen. Neither of them say anything about how Eddie needs half as many groceries, has half as much laundry as two weeks ago.

It's miserable, and Buck is there. Eddie can't decide how to feel about that. Guilt isn't the first emotion that springs to his mind when someone goes out of their way to help him, not anymore, but it isn't the last, either.

He's grateful, mostly. Gratitude is a hard emotion to feel right now, but he doesn't have much of a choice, not when Buck is making him homemade pizza for dinner and camping out on his couch and coming up with thinly veiled reasons to get Eddie out of his house. All Eddie wants to feel right now is misery, but Buck won't let him.

He lets Eddie feel it. He sat with him, that first night, for Eddie doesn't know how long. He barely remembers what they talked about, or if they talked. He just remembers the quiet after his parents left, the empty house and the closed door to Chris's room and Buck.

Buck just doesn't let it be the only thing Eddie feels. He doesn't let his empty house be the only thing Eddie sees. One day, Eddie's going to have to figure out how to thank Buck for it. For now, he's just glad not to be alone.

—

we get to the babysitting eventually, i promise. this fic is going to be sooo short, i say, then i write a few hundred words that have absolutely nothing to do with babysitting

#im getting there!!! #wip tag

[zzoguri]

persist and resist (but still, fail) ➵ sung hanbin

sung hanbin x reader

all it takes is one phone call for you to realize what you could’ve had with hanbin

genre/warnings ➵ angst, almost lovers, long-distance but not-in-a-relationship, unspoken words/hidden signals, a lot of wondering of what could’ve been

word count ➵ 728 words

inspired by ➵ “the 1” by taylor swift, that one skype call in “past lives”

a/n ➵ this drabble is very reminiscent of an upcoming fic i have which will have a hanbin version entitled “finger trapped (ripped to its seams)” but its taking a bit to pump out (and i’m very much in my feelings as we speak…) so bear with me and enjoy this drabble for now :33 do reblog and leave feedback!!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

it’s quiet uptown. as you smell the winter air, frozen kisses graze your cheeks. sounds of cars have been replaced with the buzzing of lamposts and flakes have taken raindrops’ role. on the snow-piled balcony, you hear the wood crackle behind you.

yet, warmth is stored in the voice on the other line.

“so, what’s it like there?” the rasp that accompanies hanbin’s words remind you of the time zone difference between you two. while it may be crack of dawn in korea, night has fallen at where you stand.

“you’ve asked that question how many times in this call.” a giggle leaves you. “you’re making me think that you never listen.”

a soft hum leaves him. “you know that’s not true.” your fingers grip on the blanket draped on your shoulders. “what are you up to?”

“damn, not even letting me answer the thousand questions you seem to have for me.”

“sorry,” he chuckles, “just never hear from you.”

for a moment, all you can do is sniffle.

“it’s quiet here. everyone’s off to see their families.” your hand reaches out to rail, writing the characters of his name on the snow, as you bask in the stillness of the town. “i like it like this.”

“like it like what?”

“when it’s not busy. it’s only during the winter time when you’ll barely hear a horn or chatter.” a smile makes its way to your lips. “kind of like when we’d sneak into school during the summer time.”

heat waves would do their best to tie you down then, draining you of any energy to enjoy the wonders of summer, but you and hanbin were drawn to adventures. while there would be trips to the mart to grab the familiar taste of chocolate popsicles or the playground you’ve bruised your knees at, the school seemed to call on your names. the empty hallways whispered the narratives of students who came before you two—you were certain that yours and hanbin’s story would be told, as well.

“god, i can’t believe we had so much time to waste then,” hanbin admits over the memory. only a hum leaves you. “i miss it.”

a beat passes.

“yeah, me too.” the whisper barely leaves you.

there’s a life in korea that you’ve lost—the quiet exchange of laughter during classes, the smell of fresh kkwabaegi fresh from the fryer, and the nights spent stargazing.

but in the life you have now—in the stillness of your room during midnights, the rush hours of your commute, the conservations you have with the locals—you can’t help but wonder, wonder, wonder. 

would you be in a 9-to-5 job at a corporate workplace or performing at sold-out venues? would you wake up early in the morning to bake or would you sleep in the comfort of your own bed? or would you go back to school and dive into the niche topics you’ve always wanted to explore?

but would you live alone in a different part of korea or travel around the world with him? would you wake up to the smell of freshly-cooked pancakes or microwaved fried rice from the night before? or would he latch to your body that’s reached the highest degrees, or make him soup during flu season? (he’s always had a weak immune system. did that change?) 

there’s a life in korea that you long for—and there’s a person that you’ve lost. if things were only different, maybe you’d have him for many orbits around the sun.

did he ever think of a life you two could’ve had?

“hey, i have to go,” you say.

“oh,” hanbin’s tone is laced with disappointment, “okay.”

for a moment, not a word is exchanged between you two.

“talk soon?” his question takes you by surprise.

you would’ve loved to agree—yes! i’ll make sure to come visit—but you only smile to yourself with held back tears.

“bye, hanbin.”

that was enough of an answer for him. “okay. bye.”

the call drops. the warmth that your phone held has disappeared. while it makes sense to retreat back into your flat, bask in the heat emitting from the fireplace and read the words of sylvia plath, you remain standing on the snow-piled balcony.

it didn’t matter what you two could’ve had. it didn’t matter if he wondered the same things.

but it could’ve been him—that’s all you know.

taglist ➵ @kflixnet @blankjournal

#works of moni #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 angst #zb1 fluff #sung hanbin #sung habin fluff #sung hanbin angst #sung hanbin x reader #sung hanbin imagines

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (05)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: Teen (series will be explicit) Words: 2.1k Summary: The trouble with Ted

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

You follow the woman down under the makeshift roof. It’s not quite a cave, not quite a building, but some mix of the two. You can feel the Cowboy at your back, his steps assured and steady.

The threat he’d made at the gate, the easy way he’d told them he could kill them all… it sent a shiver down your spine. He positively reeked of danger, you weren’t blind to it, but the casualness of it took you by surprise.

“Trader is closed for the night, but you can try the canteen for supper.”

The woman who was guiding you was maybe fifty - could be as young as a hard thirty. You were terrible at judging people’s ages. “Thanks, is there anywhere to stay the night?”

“You together?”

“No-”

“Yes,” he cuts you off, a hand wrapping around the back of your neck. You give him a questioning look but don’t argue. He’d been nice enough so far, hadn’t attacked you, he’d even offered you some jerky to eat this afternoon. 

Better the devil you know, right?

“We won’t be separatin’,” he continued, squeezing one more time before letting you go.

“Ask Ted, he might have something,” the woman shrugs.

“And Ted is…” you venture hopefully.

“Eatin’.”

Great. You pause outside the hole with a piece of plastic tarp over it. There is the smell of food coming from the other side, and a lot of raised voices. “You sure about this?” you ask the Cowboy at your side.

“This was your idea,” he counters before stepping past you, shoving the tarp.

The room goes dead quiet. Two dozen people, at least, turn to look at you. Quickly, you move in next to him, putting on your most winning smile. You’d trained most of your life to be charming, to be pleasant, it came as easy as breathing.

“Hi!” you announce loudly, giving the room a wide smile. “We were told we could get a bite to eat here?”

“We don’t serve its kind.”

You turn your megawatt smile to the man standing behind a long bar. “No one is asking you to. But will you serve me?” You flutter your eyelashes for good measure.

The Cowboy snorts and you deliberately step on his toes.

The bartender studies you then sighs, wiping a spot in front of him clean and gesturing you towards it. There’s only one seat available there so you adjust slightly to where two stools stand empty. The wood is rough against the back of your bare thighs as you sit but it is what it is.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Rat,” the bartender barks, turning behind the bar and slopping a ladleful into what looks like an old hubcap. “Three caps.”

“I’m really hungry,” you tell him, digging into your pack. “Can I get two?”

He glares at the Cowboy but serves a second, placing both in front of you and palming the caps you lay out.

“You owe me three caps,” you whisper to your companion.

“Bill me,” he drawls, battered spoon already halfway to his mouth.

You harrumph softly, “You can pay for the room then.”

“The fuck I-”

“Hey.” The voice comes from behind you and you turn slightly to see who it is. The Cowboy doesn’t move.

“We don’t take to wrinkled ballsacks like your friend.”

“Well,” you say slowly, “someone let us in so I guess it’s gotta be kinda okay. We’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

“He threatening ya?”

“Me?” you ask incredulously.

Beside you the Cowboy has gone stiff as a board, spoon hovering just past his lips.

“Or you one of them ghoulie-fuckers?”

“We just met today,” you blurt out.

A deep sigh comes from next to you, almost a groan. “You really itching for me to shoot these guys?” he asks, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What? No.” Your eyes dart from the Cowboy’s back to the small group of men. “Maybe there’s been a misunderstanding. We’re heading the same direction so we’re traveling together. There’s no… funny business going on.”

The Cowboy snorts, a neat trick with no nose, and the men look skeptical. 

“You need help, we can help ya,” one with crooked teeth and half an eyelid tells you with a leer.

“Not necessary!” you reply with a happy smile. “But maybe we can buy you fine fellows a drink?”

That seems to mollify them and you shell out another ten caps across the bar. 

“You’re gonna go broke, you keep on like that.”

“It was either that or watch them beat you up.”

So slowly it has to be deliberate, he turns his neck and scowls at you. “You think I couldn’t take those peckerheads if it came to it?”

“I think you shouldn’t have to,” you grumble.

He goes silent at that, shoveling down his stew and you try to do the same. You’ve had worse, absolutely, but that doesn’t mean you enjoy picking rat tails out of your teeth either.

When he finishes he shoves the makeshift bowl away, drumming his fingers on the counter. “You ain’t gotta defend me, sweetheart.”

You cut your eyes his direction. “Look, are we traveling together?”

He pauses before grunting in a way you take as assent. 

“If we’re going to travel together we need to talk about some things then.” Done with the meal you push yours away as well, smiling when you see him redirect it his direction. “I don’t know you, I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing-” you wave a hand in the general direction of everywhere.

“Just trying to keep my skin on.”

“Well, see, that’s not good enough. I’ve been alive a while now and I’ve come to know a few things.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. Like it never helps things when people are cruel for no reason.”

His eyes widen over the last of your stew, forehead contorting. It takes a moment to realize he’s raising a nonexistent eyebrow.

“Then you’re in the wrong place, darlin’.”

“I know where I am,” you snap before a hand flies to your mouth and you sigh. “Sorry, I just… growing up I knew a lot of people like you. It bothers me when jerks let their prejudices get in the way of common sense.”

“People like me…” he hums thoughtfully. “You mean-”

“Necrotic. I think that man called you a ghoul?”

“Ah,” he wipes a finger along the rim of the hubcap, licking it clean and winking at you. “I presumed you meant handsome devils.”

You laugh, not in a mean way and thankfully he doesn’t take it as such. He’s being ridiculous and he knows it. “Devil is right, you didn’t need to threaten them.”

“When precisely did I threaten them?” he asks skeptically.

“You said you were going to shoot them - and you threatened them at the gate as well,” you point out.

“Now those there were just statements of fact, sweetheart” he’s grinning at you now, head cocked to the side. “I don’t make threats, only promises.”

You scowl. “Well maybe consider promising to be a little nicer.”

“Sure thing.”

You don’t believe him.

“Which of these fuckheads is Ted?” he asks loudly, shoving the hubcap away.

The bartender juts with his chin and you both turn to look. Ted is a rather large man, a head above the people sitting around him. He barely looks your direction at the Cowboy’s pronouncement, holding half a rad-rat between hands the size of dinner plates.

“You got caps for a room?” the Cowboy asks, sliding off his stool.

“Thought you were paying.”

The look he gives you could scorch pavement but you paste on your most winsome smile and only blink in return.

“Who’s asking?”

Ted’s got a voice like gravel over steel wool. You unconsciously take a step closer to the Cowboy, feeling his jacket brush against your arm. He spares a glance down at you before answering.

“Need a room for the night.”

“A room?” Ted asks with a frown. “Johnny says you ain’t a ghoul-fucker, girlie, that right?”

“I-”

The Cowboy steps in front of you, blocking Ted from your sight. “Whether we’re fucking or not don’t seem like anyone’s business but our own. Now, you got a room?”

Your sigh is long-suffering, your eyeroll just for you since he can’t see it. Closing your eyes you take a deep breath, centering yourself and cracking your neck.

“He’s protective,” you announce from behind him, ignoring the angry look he shoots you. “Can’t blame him out here, can you? But I promise I’m safe with him. We just want to get some rest.”

“He ain’t worried about your safety, darlin’,” the Cowboy mutters as you once again step around him.

“Isn’t he?” you smile up at him brightly before turning to Ted and his friends. “I appreciate your concern,  I really do. It’s so rare to meet truly good men anymore.  I-” you stop, pressing your fingertips to your chest and blinking suddenly. With a sharp intake of breath you press those same fingers to your mouth. “It’s so hard sometimes, I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

Ted looks sucker punched, as you expected. Big men almost always fell into one of two categories - bullies or softies. Ted struck you as the latter.

“Can I give you a hug?” you ask around a fake hiccup, barely waiting for his nod before crossing to his table and wrapping your arms around his head. Maybe your breasts are in his face too, who knows.

“Still waitin’ on that room,” the Cowboy drawls wryly from the bar. You shoot him a glare over Ted’s head. 

“Goodness me,” you finally let him go. “I think I need to lay down.”

“Upstairs,” Ted tells you, “third door on the right.”

“Thank you.” You grab one of his hands, holding it to your chest for a moment before dropping it. The Cowboy looks amused as you walk by, trailing you up the stairs.

“That was quite the performance,” he states once you’re in the room. “I’ve seen my fair share of stage work but that was superb.”

You give a small curtsy, setting your pack on the single cot. “Why thank you.”

“But I’m pretty sure I told you I don’t need your assistance.”

“You catch more flies with honey,” you inform him, settling on the edge and pulling one boot off.

“Now that just ain’t true.” He leans up against the wall opposite you, watching you from under the brim of his hat. “You see they did these studies, back before the world went to shit, and turns out you catch a fair few more flies with vinegar.”

Wrinkling your nose you drop the second boot next to the first and tuck your feet under you. “That can’t be true.”

“I assure you it is.”

“Well, would your method have gotten us the room for free?”

He blinks at you then glances at the door. “Now wait a fucking minute…”

You laugh, rummaging in your pack until you find a washcloth. Using the smallest drops of precious water you wet the corner and scrub at your face. “I promise, when the time comes and someone needs to be hurt I won’t stop you. But maybe consider that isn’t the first course of action?”

“I tell you what,” he pushes off from the wall and crosses to the cot, propping himself up at the head and swinging his legs up behind you, “the next time you can work your charms for a spell. Less work for me anyway.”

Scowling you poke at one of his boots. “Off.”

“Pardon?”

“The bed is clean and your boots are definitely not. Off.”

“Sweetheart, you’re a damn sight stupider than I give you credit for if you think this bed is anything approaching clean.”

“It’s where I plan to sleep tonight, so I would like for it to be clean-ish. Boots off.”

He doesn’t move his legs, stacking his hands behind his head instead and letting his hat tip forward to cover his face. “You’re sleeping here? And where, pray tell, will I be sleeping?”

“You’re the one who insisted on one room,” you point out.

“You really trust them not to bother you?”

“I’ve known them about eight hours less than I’ve known you.”

He glances up at that, teeth wide in a knowing grin. “Now that might be the smartest thing you’ve said so far”

It’s a staring contest and you balk first, a smile pulling at your lips before you roll your eyes and stand up. “I’ll take first watch.”

“Good girl.”

☢ ☢ ☢

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#the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout series

[nightcolorz]

Hiii, hope you're doing well. This last episode has been... a lot for armand stans😭 what are your thoughts on assad zaman's performance as armand so far?

omg thank u <3 I’m doing great, hope ur doing great too! And yeah lol, a lot is one way to put it 😭

I don’t know much about acting so I can’t claim to have any expertise on like critiquing a performance, but I think my Armand expertise will cancel it out lol. I love Assad as Armand so much!! Armand I imagine would be a rlly difficult character to pull off and he is doing so beautifully! it’s so impressive. There r so many nuances that make his performance so exact and layered, it’s amazing. U can feel the layers of performances, there r little moments were he is being charming and composed and u see the mask lapse and this wide eyed empty stare slips out, it’s sooo Armand. Assad’s Armand definitely gives me the impression of an actor putting on a performance to mask how he is a shaken, scared, gaping void of a person. Like ughhh. There r so many things. His accent and how it changes subtly depending on the time period! His dream-like delicate vocal inflection!! The way that he speaks reminds me so much of Frank Muller’s voice for Armand in the vampire chronicles audio books, which is ideal cuz that is always how I hear Armand when I read. He has a tone to his voice that sounds kind of ghostly and vulnerable in an ominous, powerful way. If that makes sense 😭. Assad is so good at balancing domineering and frightening with vulnerable and childlike, it’s rlly mf good. And he can pack soooo much varied emotion in a silent stare, which is ideal considering how much I associate Armand with silent staring🙏 lmfao. So yeah! He’s perfect I love him. A brillant casting choice, based on both his performance and what he’s said in interviews u can tell he has a super strong grasp on the character. Not to mention he’s pretty 🥰

#armand #Amc iwtv #iwtv season 2 #interview with the vampire #Iwtv #assad zaman #Armand iwtv

[hotmessmaxpress]

i need Vale‘s pov of picking up Marc from Pesaro, because Marc wasn’t the only one worried, vale definitely was down bad just as much. The man of his dreams, who he almost lost before, is coming over to visit him. To meet him the first time as the person he really is. What if he only liked Vale for his money? Or if it just was some kind of hero worship? Valentino may have parked horribly, but that man was nervous, give him a break

Thank you for waiting so patiently, anon.

Here's another Vale's POV interlude, this time of Vale being Down Bad at the train station.

You should come. 

To Tavullia. Come ride with me.

When Vale invited Marc to Tavullia to come ride with him, he hadn’t really been thinking. He knew he wanted to see Marc, so he invited him without thought of the consequences or how he would explain things to his family, friends, and staff. He’s too excited to take back the invitation, though, so as soon as Marc agrees Vale throws himself into planning. 

He carves out a long weekend that he’s sure he can block off, and he starts firing off messages to all the normal visitors to the ranch and his home that he will be busy those days. Uccio is noticeably suspicious, so Valentino gives up and explains that Marc is visiting. 

Uccio isn’t pleased, but they’ve known each other long enough at this point that Uccio knows when he’s lost a battle and he doesn’t push back too much. Vale makes him promise not to show up, and threatens that the other man may see something he doesn’t want to if he shows up. Even with the threat Vale isn’t convinced Uccio won’t try something, but he’s at least confident that if he does turn up it won’t be a huge argument. Vale can survive a little awkwardness if it means having Marc by his side, finally.

They negotiate travel plans and Vale pays for everything. He was tempted to completely throw out Marc’s itinerary and send a private jet for him, but he forces himself to play it cool at least a little bit. There’s still part of him, lurking in the back of his mind, that thinks Marc could be using him. He hopes that when he meets Marc in person the fear and anxiety will dissipate. 

Allowing Marc to fly commercial doesn’t stop Vale from obsessively checking the timing of Marc’s flight, though. He stays attached to his phone throughout Marc’s travel day, ears open and listening for the notification that Marc has landed.

As soon as Marc lands, Valentino is in his car and off to the train station. He knows he’ll have to wait, and that he’s going to arrive far too early, but he can’t help it. He’s far too restless and excited to continue sitting around. 

He’s in the car when the message pops up that Marc is on the train, and he forces himself to slow down. Driving faster won’t make Marc’s train move faster. 

It is late enough at night that Vale has no qualms about parking right up front. He pulls haphazardly into an empty taxi space, and tries not to count the minutes until Marc’s train will pull into the station. He tries to talk himself down from being nervous, but now that he’s seated in his car with only music for company, a thousand thoughts run through his brain. This may be the moment that he finds out that Marc really does only want him for his money. Where will he be then? He knows Uccio won’t say “I told you so,” because he won’t have to. Vale will hate himself if things go wrong with Marc.

He desperately wants the younger man to be genuine. He wants his feelings for Marc to be reciprocated and warranted. He wants the chemistry that they have online to be true in real life.

He also can’t wait to touch Marc. A bitter part of him whispers that if Marc is using him for his money, at least he’ll get to have the weekend with him. 

The minutes tick down as Vale nervously spirals, turning his music up to try and drown out the thoughts of insecurity. 

When Marc walks out the station doors, Vale can’t help but climb out of the car to greet him. He’s not exactly keeping it cool, but Marc is simply too beautiful. Vale is drawn to him like a moth to flame and he wraps Marc in his arms. 

Marc is small. He’s tiny in Vale’s arms, but Vale can feel the solid muscle beneath the warm hoodie he traveled in. His mouth waters as he pictures the hard muscle and tanned skin he knows is underneath the sweatshirt. 

He forces himself to let go of Marc, who is positively beaming at him. It’s overwhelming, seeing that enthusiasm and joy in person. It’s even more overwhelming to know it’s directed at him. All at once Vale’s thoughts that Marc might be using him disappear. There’s no way the joy in his smile could be hiding an ulterior motive. There's no way any person, no matter how talented at acting, could fake such genuine happiness. It nearly brings Vale to his knees.

When they climb in the car, Marc asks him why he wasn’t afraid of people photographing them. Vale, after all, had stood publicly in front of a train station and held Marc in his arms. 

Vale is stunned into silence for a second. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he should probably try and keep some semblance of privacy when picking Marc up. He tries to shrug and play it cool. 

“It’s late at night. People will leave us alone.”

He hopes that is true and he hopes Marc buys his explanation. 

The tension in the air is thick, and Vale considers pulling off the road to drag Marc into his lap and ravish him. Every time he glances at Marc, beautiful, joyful Marc, it’s all he can think about. By the time he pulls the car through the gate and up toward the house nearly half an hour later, he thanks every god in existence that he managed to get them home without crashing. 

Vale promises Marc a tour and some riding in the morning, before carrying Marc’s bag into the house. 

They barely make it inside the house before they’re on each other. Vale drops Marc’s things unceremoniously somewhere near the door, and then his arms are full of the small Spanish man. Marc is positively sinful, moaning into Vale’s mouth as he slides his hands underneath Marc’s shirt. 

Marc is so satisfying to hold, and Vale promises himself he’ll take the entire weekend to fully map Marc’s body. He has a sickening moment of hoping Marc will let him have this forever; that Marc won’t want to leave him once he is bored of having sex with his hero. 

Vale guides an enthusiastic Marc toward his bedroom, and his heart nearly stops when Marc freezes in the doorway. For a moment, Vale thinks Marc has gotten cold feet and is going to turn around and insist he be driven back to the train station. 

“You really do have a bike in here,” Marc says, awed. “You won a championship on this.”

The wide-eyed look on Marc’s face goes straight to Vale’s cock.

“Sit on it,” he says, hungry at the thought of seeing the younger man on his bike. He has fantasized about this hundreds of times, and as Marc settles onto the seat Vale thinks he might burst into flames at the sight. 

They’re both hard, and Marc climbs back off the bike as Vale grabs the smaller man and manhandles him onto the bed. 

He’s wanted this for so long, and as he strips both of them of their clothes and gets his hands and mouth on Marc, he knows without a doubt  that he’ll do whatever he needs to do to keep this forever.

#onlyfans au #rosquez #valentino rossi #vr46 #mm93

[cocogum]

Find the odd one out.

Nox: “I was a hardworking man and made unique multiple gadgets to sell them to provide for my family. But I became obsessed with an alien artifact and forgot my responsibilities which resulted in me learning that my wife and children left only to be submerged by Ogrest’s tears. I’ve been living for 200 years now to steal as much wakfu as I can. It didn’t matter if I had to kill and steal. I just knew that when I’ll be able to have the exact amount of wakfu needed, I’ll be able to turn back time and erase all my mistakes to be with my family again.”

Qilby: “I am an ancient demigod who keeps getting reborn because I am a child of the Eliatrope goddess and the Great Dragon. Unlike my siblings, however, I remember every single parts of my lives which has led me to become insane by the repetitiveness of it all. My siblings never understood me which only made my mind spiral down even quicker. I purposely destroyed my original planet and was about to do the same to a new one but ended up getting my arm chewed off and got thrown into a timeless prison.”

Ogrest: “I am the only one of my kind. I had been created willingly despite the children's tales that people share saying otherwise. I’ve fallen in love with a demigoddess and did everything to make her happy and fall in love with me. Unfortunately, my life has been controlled by many people who thought they could use my power for their benefit. This has led me to lose my mind like how I lost the one I loved. I ended up flooding the world, killing a lot of innocent populations. My life has been used and controlled and turned me into a calamity, my existence turning into an urban legend to tell to children.”

Oropo: “My life is a lie. I am nothing but an incomplete fragment of my father, my own god that I loath. I have used my time in this world hating on my creator and assembling people who hate their divine parent just as much as I do. I manipulated, killed, sacrificed, and betrayed to wipe the gods for good and replace them with better ones. I ended up dying from my weapon with the one who’d been by my side for all those centuries instead. I reunited with my creator and became complete with him as I finally rest.”

Toross: “I used to be an adventurer, one of the best, to the point where I eventually found all six primordial dofus and reunited them. I even became king and had been considered the greatest hero of my world. But I always wanted more power and more control, and my thirst destroyed my planet because of this flaw of mine. The power I used out of the six primordial dofus completely wiped the whole world’s wakfu which left it in an empty sterile state. All my subjects have been turned into Necromes, living dead beings that have nothing but an insatiable hunger for wakfu. My planet has been left in the dust and ignored by the gods. I now roam on my dead world in search of something new.”

Aurora: “I was born in the royal osamodas family but did not learn how to properly rule a kingdom. I was promised to a prince and was meant to be by his side. I do nothing but obey my father and sit next to my husband. I do not learn about the kingdom’s customs, the very same kingdom that I’ve been told to stay in for the rest of my life, and I do not help in any way shape or form the people. I have my father do things for me whenever I need to justify myself and I have tried forcing my sister-in-law to marry one of my relatives. I fled from a war that could have wiped out the nation I was supposed to lead and I came back like nothing happened. I tried to kick out my sister-in-law, the only member of the royal family, from her kingdom when I could have just told her to give me the queen title. My pregnancy is the only thing keeping me relevant. I hold high regard for animals and insult servants. I quickly become enraged at the idea of seeing an alien race be welcomed by the very same people I ran away from.”

#identify the mold #wakfu #ankama #krosmoz #wakfu nox #nox #wakfu qilby #qilby #wakfu oropo #oropo #wakfu ogrest #ogrest #wakfu toross #toross #wakfu toross mordal #toross mordal #wakfu season 4 #wakfu s4 #wakfu season 3 #wakfu s3 #wakfu season 2 #wakfu s2 #wakfu season 1 #wakfu s1 #wakfu ova #wakfu ovas #wakfu special episode #wakfu special episodes #wakfu aurora #aurora slander

[happy-scene-blog]

Blitz/Stolas Character Development Thoughts

(These fuckers are my favorite so just know this comes from a place of love)

One thing I have learned to appreciate over the years is the process for characters who have flaws or need room to grow. I remember the first time this hit me was with Izzy in Our Flag Means Death. (which I absolutely recommend) I can remember the moment that I realized this man I had hated had become a character I looked forward to seeing on screen. I had a newfound appreciation for character development. Not the baseless kind of change with empty promises or the kind that is disingenuous. The kind of change that takes time, it takes moments of realization (heartwrenching realization)

to understand that something needs to happen. I love this ending. It is built up with so fucking many things that just come together to form a perfect opportunity for some quality development for Stolas and Blitzø. I refuse to choose a side in what many are seeing as a black and white issue. But I think Blitzø could look back on his mistake of assuming Stolas only wanted him for sex (I'm totally getting into this in another post) and hopefully enforce the idea that he can be loved. I will say I think this moment could drive Stolas to take a look into his treatment of Blitzø and Imps in general as he can recognize a power imbalance but has not fully come to understand what that entails. I hope that Blitzø works on his triggers, abandonment issues, and can eventually talk things out rather than defaulting to fighting. I hope that Stolas can work on his self-depreciation and the trauma of being abused so that he can let a conversation be two-sided as opposed to assuming the worst.

As someone who works in Psychology/Social Work I love the way that mental health does not seem to be glorified or romanticized in this show. Mental health and trauma is not fun, it's difficult, it makes us hurt the people we love even if we don't mean to, it blinds us, it can bring us comfort even if it's also the thing trying to bring us down. People with trauma and poor mental health are not always bad people, many times we have been forced into who we are either by others or our environment.

It's not an excuse, but it's part of being a person. We all learn and grow, and sometimes, it's not pretty. However, for many of us, it brings a bit of relatability and comfort in knowing that we are not alone and humanity. Stolas and Blitzø have got some serious issues, but they obviously care for one another. I can only hope to see both of them heal and eventually find their ways back to one another. Good things take time, and sometimes a helluva lot of therapy...

#Full Moon #Spoilers #HB #Helluva Boss #Helluva Boss Spoilers #Full Moon Spoilers #Stolas #Blitzo #Blitzø #Stolitz #At the end of the day it's a silly cartoon and I'm just a nobody loner who loves to get philosophical about things that don't matter #Take what you will