#that snippet is from an au I think about on and off

[kidvoodoo]

Jeest Mafia AU, snippet under the cut 💚💙

Joost tried not to make eye contact with anyone at the airport, though the stares he received at his battered face were inevitable. How many tall, blond, bandaged, bruised and bloody men were in a hurried rush to the terminal? Odds say: not many.

‘Not that I should be thinking about odds right now’ chided his conscience, ‘that’s how I got into this mess in the first place…’

His pace didn’t falter despite the looks from the other passengers lining up in their respective lines. All of them with bags and luggage alike underarm or trailing behind them, his own, suspiciously absent.

No time to pack, clothes on his back, phone, wallet and a little vial of two small white pills. Security checkpoint nearly put an end to those, but a desperate, puppy-eyed look and his disheveled state made the officer roll her eyes and wave him through, for all she knew, or anyone knew, it was aspirin.

‘Fix more than a headache’ his inner thoughts sneered, ‘steady on Joost, for emergencies only’.

He kept his eyes on the gate numbers, briefly glancing at the destinations. Cabo, Shanghai, Johannesburg, each a far flung place he could have potentially laid low in for months, relax on some resort beach or in a high class penthouse…

But that’s not where he’s headed.

He spies the glowing gate number, the destination? Helsinki, Finland. He got the ticket the same day he got the phone call telling him to leave as fast as possible, his usually calm and monotone source had an edge of panic to their voice, Joost trashed the burner after that and shredded the last of his books and burned them. He left his apartment as the ashes were still smoldering.

Finland eh? The only clue of what was happening next was the note in the ticket envelope, hurried scrawling in broken Dutch gave him simple instructions:

Taxi to the airport, pay in cash. Get on the plane. Make sure you are in the camera view the whole time, locate the Air Marshal and watch him. Once you are off the plane, head to the pick up zone in the parking lot and look for the black limo. Tap on the driver’s side window and give the password.

“Here for Tommy’s boy” he mutters under his breath. The magic words that’ll guarantee his safety and freedom, or will land him a bullet between the brows…

Better than the alternative.

He’s on time for the early boarding and hands the Steward his ticket, eyeing the Air Marshal at the doors to the plane’s walkway. He’s given a smile and some well wishes for his flight and finally, for the first time in several days, he feels a little sliver of calm wash over him.

‘Can’t cut me up on the plane you fuckers’

He finds his seat, window view and close to the front of the plane and plops down, the ache in his joints and back starting to flare up since the adrenaline begins to wear off.

Finland…he’s uncertain exactly what is waiting for him there, he regrets not grabbing a translation booklet at the terminal kiosk but there was simply no time. His new phone is IP hidden for the time being till he can get a VPN to bounce his signal, so no using Google’s underwhelming translation system…

He thinks back to a conversation he overheard at a conference last year. The big guys were all there, each of them with a meaty bodyguard in tow and a pistol or two brandished in plain sight.

He was there on happenstance, just finishing up the numbers to hand to his boss for the last fiscal year when his curiosity got the best of him.

“Baltic’s are at it again,” his boss sneers, tapping his cigar onto the floor, “think they’ll hide behind the Nordic cunts so they don’t have to play anymore”.

“Hm.” Another well dressed older man hums in response. He’s the police liaison, a former Captain who’s been working with the mob for 40 years. “Not much to be done about it Albert, the Fins have the advantage now, I hear they’ve even brought Estonia into the fold now.”

Albert snorts, getting to his feet and giving a couple other well-dressed people a farewell wave.

“Cuz of that little shit,” he grumbles, motioning his bodyguard to get a move on. “What’s his name? Kät-something? The Union fucker.”

“Käärijä,” the former Police Captain supplies, “his Union is very bold for an upstart, cutting off the trade in the Baltic’s disrupts everything. Heard he’s in talks of making a deal with the Norwegians as well. That’s the case? Say goodbye to the big money”.

Joost tried to linger as long as possible to catch the last bit of conversation, tucking himself against the wall and listening close.

“Damn idiot, Norway doesn’t play with the new players, even if the young lady is supposedly running things over there now. He’s a fucking lunatic to think the Baltic’s will stay loyal, he’ll be done by the end of the year, mark my words-“

A dinging noise jolts him awake from his daze, the Flight Attendants are doing their safety check. The doors to the plane are closed and for the first time in weeks, months even, Joost’s tense shoulders drop with exhaustion.

He is safe. For now.

<><><>

Roughly three hours later, he startles awake.

The voice over the intercom of the plane cabin announces in several languages that they have arrived at Helsinki Airport and will begin the landing process momentarily.

He spares a glance around the cabin out of paranoia, nothing out of the ordinary and no unwanted eyes in his direction.

Twenty minutes later and he’s heading out of the plane and into the airport terminal. The weather outside is gray and snowy, the sky a mass of colorless clouds and the sun choked somewhere behind. He shivers just looking at the weather, his cheap suit jacket will definitely not suffice.

He heads down the walkways and tried not to get too overwhelmed with the directions, mostly in Finnish but thankfully also in English.

He’s only a hundred feet from the parking lot when he feels eyes on his back. He tries subtly to peak behind and catch if he’s being followed.

Two men, both in dark blue suits and expensive leather shoes, each sporting a grim, intense expression. They have their hands in their pockets.

Joost picks up his pace, eyes focused on the automatic doors that swing open and shut.

He can hear them closing behind him, their shoes loud against the tiles. He starts to jog.

He doesn’t stop to apologize to the people he pushes past to get out of the door, ignoring the scowls and curses thrown his way. His heart is hammering in his chest, he has but a minute to locate the car before he’s dragged off and butchered in a dark corner…

A car horn blares loudly as he flinches and freezes, he had walked right out in front of a pair of high beams, his eyes don’t have time to adjust as he hurriedly runs around to look.

Black limousine, tinted windows with triple thick bulletproof glass and chrome trimming. The driver’s side window rolls down, a bald man with sunglasses and a mustache regards him blankly.

“P-please,” he stammers, eyes catching the two suited men finally breaching the threshold. “I-I’m being followed-“

“What is phrase?” The driver interrupts, not at all phased by the situation in the slightest.

“Th-the wha-oh yes yes, it’s uh…” he swallows takes a breath and speaks the words softly enough for the man to hear him.

“I’m here for Tommy’s boy.”

The door at the back of the limo clicks open, beckoning him inside.

He all but dives into the car and slams the door shut just as the two men make a dash towards the vehicle, only to stop dead in their tracks mere feet away.

Joost doesn’t have the time to take in his surroundings as he sees what has halted his stalkers. In the split second before the limo peels out with a loud screeching of tires, the window on the opposite side is down just enough to see the startled and blanched faces of the two men, who find themselves held in place by a man aiming a 45 caliber handgun at them.

Were it to fire at point blank range, one of the two men would have nearly had his torso blown open. More than a lethal shot, truly overkill at that point.

The car peels out of the lot and before he knows it, Joost is tossed back into he seat as the limo put some speedy distance between him and the danger.

A loud curse and sound of a window being rolled up. Joost finally levels his eyes behind his cracked glasses to see his savior.

Sitting across from him now with the gun held loosely in his grip is a dark haired man with pale skin. He sports a blunted bowl cut and his facial hair is trimmed and tidy. He wears a long black coat with a layered polo necked jumper and a couple silver chains around his neck. The jewelry matches his pierced ears and nose rings, the whole of his attire is expensive and modern looking.

Joost is drawn into the man’s piercing eyes, blue like his own but with an edge of silver steel, made more intimidating and entrancing by the heavy makeup that lines them.

The man is staring at him, Joost’s palms immediately start to sweat.

“I uh,”

“You are the Dutchman we take in?” The man interrupts, his voice has an hint of annoyance, Joost nods politely and holds out his hand to shake.

“Yes, I mean to say, thank you,” he tries to muster a charming smile but finds himself pinned under the man’s gaze like a deer being watched through a hunter’s scope.

“I’m sure this is a bit of trouble for you-“

“Trouble? I say it is bigger trouble for you and not me. You need a drink yes? I have gin and brandy here.” The man all but ignores whatever Joost was trying to say and busies himself with pouring a drink from a side bar containing glasses and some bottles. “Brandy since the gin is warm, I not have a lot of time to get it ready.”

Joost wants to say something, anything to this stranger but finds himself at an utter loss for words. The man looks at him expectantly, pushing the glass of amber liquor into his hands.

“There you drink that, feel better afterwards. You say you looking for Tommy’s boy? That is what he tell you to say? He think he is funny man, he gonna have to explain to me…” the man trails off, eyes now scanning and taking in Joost’s disheveled appearance. “You have injury? I have some bandage here and some other things uh,” the man stops and searches for a word. “you know, doctor supplies?”

“First aid kit?” Joost supplies.

“Ah yes yes! That is it,” the man grins and digs around a bit before huffing in annoyance and opening the little sliding window to the driver’s compartment. He asks for something in Finnish and the bald man replies. Information gathered, he opens a compartment and fishes out a nondescript black case.

“Okei here it is. Let me see your hand, you have blood on your palm.” He does? Joost was in such a mad dash to get away from the goons who had jumped him back in the Netherlands he didn’t have time to take stock of his injuries. He holds out his hand timidly and the man yanks it none too gently to inspect.

“No stitches I think,” he hums, grabbing supplies to clean and patch the gash on Joost’s palm.

The man’s grip is firm and steady, there is warm radiating from beneath the leather gloves he wears.

“You are Mr. Klein eh?” The man says absentmindedly as he cleans the wound. “I hear you screw your boss out two million euros, not bad.” The man smirks, eyes flickering up to Joost’s face. “I like someone who disrupts the status quo. When Tommy say you in trouble, I had to do something about it. Would be a waste for you ending up in concrete.”

Joost cringes a little at the mention of his dilemma, taking a long gulp of his drink and reveling in the burn.

“I don’t know about disruption, I just did what I thought was right is all. Didn’t think it would go this far…” he wishes he could be more proud, he did take a chunk of money from the hands of the worst men in Europe. Now, he’s a marked man, possibly forever.

The dark haired man seems to sense his discomfort and finishes dressing his hand, grabbing a gauze patch and passing it over.

“What is done is done, you think it is bad thing now, but you make a big move, and now you have a big advantage for the war that is coming.”

Joost finishes placing the gauze over the gash on his cheek, looking at the man puzzlingly.

“What war? And what advantage are you talking about?”

The man leans back against his seat and smiles, his sharp canines peak over his lips and his expression is one of amusement and vicious excitement.

“The war between the Union and the Old Men, tear down their ruined kingdom and make our own. The advantage? That’s easy,”

The man chuckles darkly.

“You have Käärijä in your corner now.”

#my art #kidvoodoo #my writing #jeest #jeest infection #käärijä #jere pöyhönen #joost klein #mafia au #so I guess I’m doing this now 🙃 #I can’t make any promises on this story I’m afraid #I don’t feel confident in my writing but I’m trying my best lol #also this is fiction it is not real and I don’t wanna hear anything from people like #if you don’t like it don’t read it #it’s a silly little story about some silly guys who will probably kiss and stuff #also Jere’s boyfriend Pokédex will make an appearance plus many more cameos hehe #it will primarily be jeest infection though

[dadbodbuck]

i wanted to post something and its tuesday

snippet from my ecologist!buck au:

Eddie’s fresh off a 24 when he sees him for the first time. He’s clocked out, picked Christopher up, and stopped by the bank to drop off a check. He’s dead on his feet, and Chris is always hangry and overtired after school, so Eddie is also, to put it politely, at his fucking limit.

He turns into his driveway and sees it. “It” being two positively massive piles of wood chips spilling out from his neighbor’s yard onto his own. It’s completely overtaken a good chunk of Eddie’s yard, including part of Christopher’s ramp, which pushes up against the border between the properties.

And, okay, it’s not like Christopher can’t just move around the wood chips, but it’s a principle of the thing. If his neighbor thinks it’s okay to block part of the ramp, they might think it’s okay to block the whole ramp, that Christopher might not need the ramp, or they might think it’s okay to block Christopher’s concrete path to his ramp. It’s a slippery slope, and most people don’t understand accommodations. He can’t just explain to everyone that his barely-in-code steps are too steep for an eight-year-old with balance issues, but some stairs and some obstacles are okay. That’s at least a five minute conversation if he’s lucky. 

When he was first learning to make accommodations for Christopher, there were a few over thirty minute, endless back and forth conversations that Eddie had with a particularly nosy “HOA board member” who was convinced Eddie was building a meth lab instead of an accessible shower.

So, Eddie unlocks the door and tells Christopher to go on inside and get himself changed and started on his homework, and he goes over to his neighbor’s house to assert himself. Assertively. He can do that. He was in the army.

Assertive and polite, Eddie reminds himself, steeling himself to knock on the door. Right when he goes to knock, though, the door opens and Eddie’s hand winds up swinging forward—

Right into someone’s face.

“Ow! Fuck!” The person says, dropping some cardboard and cradling their face in their hands, “What was that for?”

And Eddie should reply, but the only thing he can really take note of is that the person in front of him is fucking hot. He’s a few inches taller than Eddie, with broad shoulders and biceps that look like they’re about to pop out of his stained t-shirt. He’s in plain shorts that stop above the knee—where his absolutely gigantic thighs peek out—and tennis shoes that look like they’re falling apart.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, through the driest mouth he’s probably ever had, “I was trying to knock.”

Eddie prays that the man’s face is ugly, or that he’s going to be a dick, but when he moves his hand, Eddie can see baby blue (albeit watery) eyes, soft, curly blond hair, plush lips, and a birthmark just above his eye. This guy is a fucking smoke show from head to toe, and instead of looking pissed off, he relaxes and huffs out a laugh. “Were you trying to break my door down or something?”

“You got woodchips on my son’s ramp,” Eddie says, instead of answering.

“I did?” The man blinks, “Sorry! Oh God, sorry, I didn’t notice, I’ve been so busy with the shipment. I promise I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, sighing and feeling all the fight leave him. Of course his new neighbor wasn’t trying to be an ableist asshole, it was just an accident, and Eddie assumed the worst. 

“Sorry, uh, can I squeeze past you?” The man asks, and that’s when Eddie realizes he’s gone somewhere and come back with a broom. Eddie follows him back over to the ramp, where he starts sweeping off the wood.

“This is a little uneven,” The man mentions, “Does your son use a wheelchair? I could redo this for you.”

Eddie bristles at that—the familiar urge rises in the back of his throat. He’s just about to bite back something harsher than his neighbor probably deserves, something about how he doesn’t need help, when Christopher pops his head out the front door.

“Daddy?” Chris asks, “Who’s that?”

“Hey, buddy,” Buck says, before Eddie can introduce him, “I’m Evan Buckley, your new neighbor. Everyone calls me Buck.”

Buck sticks his hand out for Christopher to shake, and if Eddie weren’t so busy trying to give this guy the chance he deserved, he’d be pissed at Buck for ignoring him. Or maybe embarrassed that he forgot to ask Buck for his name. Or that he forgot to introduce himself when he knocked on his door.

Chris introduces himself as, “Christopher Diaz, but everyone calls me Chris,” and gleefully shakes Buck’s hand, jerking it up and down so hard Eddie’s worried he might dislodge it from the socket. And then he’d have to give his sort-of asshole neighbor medical treatment. Whatever.

“What do you even need all these wood chips for, anyway?” Eddie asks, trying not to sound bitter or sarcastic. He’s only mostly sure it works.

“Oh, I’m redoing the lawn,” Buck says, “I’m working to create a few different microfarms in LA. This one’s kind of my first big project. I’m going to be doing an herb garden out here in front, and then in the back I plan on doing some compost and raising some chickens. Maybe some ducks, rabbits—”

“Oh,” Eddie says, because it’s—okay. He understands that his food has to come from somewhere, but he’s hesitant about all this. It sounds like a lot. “So, what, your yard is just gonna be covered in wood chips?”

“Only for the first season,” Buck explains, “To kill the grass.”

“Why would you kill the grass?” Eddie blinks, taken aback.

Buck smiles in a way that, quite frankly, makes Eddie feel condescended to. (If he weren’t so irritated, he might notice the way Buck’s eyes light up and his hands do half the talking for him, adorably excited.) “Lawn grass isn’t actually native to the United States. It was a status symbol in Europe, because only royalty could afford to have their lawns tended to. And here in California, it’s actually detrimental to the local environment to have one. Non-native grass takes a lot of water to maintain, and we just don’t have those resources here. I’m culling the grass in the front yard and the backyard, and doing some water retention gardening to save on the rain that happens our way.”

Eddie’s head hurts. Unfortunately, when he opens his eyes, he sees Christopher’s own, wide and bright with stars.

Oh no.

“That’s so cool!” Chris gasps, “How do you reten—retent?—the water?”

“Chris, why don’t we go inside and stop bothering Buck?” Eddie urges, because if Chris ends up actually liking this man Eddie will move again. He’ll go to Alaska. He’ll take Chris to fucking Mexico if it means never seeing Evan Buckley, his neighbor who he punched and immediately developed a low-simmering irritation for, ever again.

#911 fic #buddie #fic tag: kitchen table ecology

[mobbothetrue]

Rules: Make a new post and post your latest line from your WIP and tag as many people as there are words.

Hough! Okay!!! Technically I’ve been tagged in this twice, by @sagethegremlin and by @neurotypical-sonic ! Uhm. Except. I’ve not been— okay so I have been writing but

I got thinking about a project that I did a little bit of two (2) years ago, right? And I was just reading what I had written down two years ago, and I realized I used the word ‘neck’ twice, and that bugged me, so I changed one of the words, so technically the last “”sentence”” I wrote is just. The word.

“[…]skin.”

Which isn’t fantastic for a last line, tag, I think, so I thought ‘oh okay I’ll just go to the thing I was writing before that’, except that’s my extremely self indulgent splatoon TMNT crossover that I may not even like. Publish. so I’m a little uncertain about sharing a snippet of it because it’s a very very new direction for me (putting, what is, essentially, an oc into an established -verse) and I’d like to nurture it a bit more before I share anything

So then I thought ‘okay okay I’ll go to the thing before that!’ but that’s just. stopgap. which is already published. So I’ve just been sitting on these tags and sweating

and I did think ‘oh i’ll just write something new and slap that on here :)’ but then I. Didn’t do that. And I am so so aware of the passage of time so!

Here is my line.

“Edelgard knows only that she is alive by the breath, wet, against her skin.”

for which, the only new word, the rest having been written two years ago, is skin, so. I will be tagging @lessrthanthree . Godspeed chief

#mobbtalks #I happen to have a soft spot for fire emblem games that rears its head every so often #that snippet is from an au I think about on and off #where in that very very first like. bandit encounter #instead of using the divine pulse to stop the bandit Byleth instead gets in between Edelgard and the bandit and takes an axe to the back #which ends with her losing the use of her legs #an au spawned mostly by me noticing just how many damn stairs garreg mach monastery has

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

heya, i have to wake up in three hours but! here's another lil human au snippet! ft. lightly implied Laughingstock! disclaimer i am so so tired so don't come at me for typos or strangely worded sentences or missing info <3

~

Before heading home, Eddie swings by a charming little store he’s been to once or twice before. He usually goes to the chain store by his house, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with the hustle and bustle and the endless aisles. This little store is quiet, nice, and strangely has everything anyone could need. 

The lot is mostly empty at this hour, so Eddie claims a spot right at the front. As with the other times, the windows are littered with displays and stickers - half off on this, sale on that. Eddie enters Howdy’s Place with the chime of the door’s shopkeeper’s bell. He’ll get what he needs and get out, quick and easy and peacefu-

Boisterous laughter slams into Eddie like a hammer, so sudden that he jumps in place. An employee stocking cans nearby glances weirdly at him. Eddie clears his throat and hurries into the nearest aisle as the laughter tapers off. The silence barely lasts a second before loud chatter starts up. It’s too fast and muffled for Eddie to understand, but he can pick out two distinct voices - one deep, one less so but still decidedly masculine. 

Eddie tries to tune it out as he gathers what he needs. Toothpaste, some paper towels, shampoo. For the hell of it, he nabs a box of classic bran muffins from the spacious food section. He lingers for a moment, enjoying how far-away the conversation seems at the other corner of the store. Unfortunately, theft is illegal, so Eddie is forced to move towards the noise.

A strange thing about the store - it’s a combination general store, antique shop, and diner, complete with a miniature gift shop separating the two. One long checkout counter stretches from the open store area, behind the gift shop, and into the diner, where the conversation is coming from. An interesting setup, but an understandable one. It allows anyone behind the counter to move fluidly between customers and sections.

As Eddie approaches, the conversation becomes slightly clearer. 

“-said, no wonder you didn’t get her number!” the deeper voice barks, and the two dissolve into that almost-too-loud laughter again. 

As it tapers off, the other voice says, “Sounds like a real charmer! But really, you oughta be careful, Barn. One of these days someone’s gonna throw a right hook at ya.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. A transatlantic accent? He hasn’t heard that anywhere outside of real old movies and a queen he once knew. It sounds natural too, like the man was born to sound like he belongs on a 1920s radio show. It nudges something in the back of Eddie’s mind. He’s started to get really sick of that nudge.

“Oh, this guy did.”

“No kidding? I don’t see a shiner.”

“Well, yeah. I went left.”

Both of them laugh again, and Eddie feels a tiny tug at the corner of his mouth. That wasn’t funny enough to garner an actual laugh in his opinion, but it wasn’t unfunny. 

Eddie steps up to the counter and quietly puts his acquired items on it, not wanting to interrupt. He chances a glance to the side - walking space in front of the counter’s length lets him see right down into the diner.

A large man with dyed-blue hair and an interesting fashion sense is at the bar, talking to an employee leaning against the other side. The employee doesn’t really catch Eddie’s gaze, but the other man… Eddie swears he’s seen him before. He studies him from the corner of his eye, not wanting to be rude but unable to mind his business. 

“Our bouncer didn’t even get a chance at the action - the idiot knocked himself out tryin’ a second swing!” The customer says. His deep voice, wavering with humor, only adds to the sense of familiarity. Metal glints in his right ear. Eddie knows this man from somewhere.

The employee shakes his head, tutting. His busy hands polish a vintage pitcher. “I swear, you get all the crazies.”

“Makes for a good story, though.” The customer takes a sip from his tall milkshake and scoffs. “Though if it wasn’t all well-ending, amusing bull, I doubt I’d be so tolerant.”

Minutes drag by as the two keep talking. Eddie goes from patiently waiting to awkwardly trying to get the employees attention. If only there was someone else behind the counter, but the only other staff member is elsewhere, likely still stocking shelves. 

The two men are too absorbed in their little world, even though both are facing Eddie’s way. The customer has both elbows on the counter, one of them bent to prop up his chin. The employee has his hip leaned against the edge as they chat. They’re obviously very familiar with each other, and clearly deeply enjoy each other's company. 

Still - and Eddie is sorry to say, but it’s bad customer service. He’s not in a rush, but he’d still like to be on his way home. He could be fishing out the complex keys right now. He checks his phone - he’s been here for nearly fifteen minutes. Picking out the items took less than five. 

Eddie sighs, staring at the various cigarette packs displayed behind the counter. He’s never seen the appeal in smoking, but as the laughter starts up again, he almost wishes he did. He’s going to treat himself to a very long shower once he gets home. 

The store’s other employee walks behind the counter, carrying a box. Eddie lights up. Finally - she pointedly clears her throat and heads into the back. 

The constant conversation stalls for the barest moment, and he looks over. The customer grins at him for a second - lord he’s handsome - before turning that grin towards his friend.

“You’re losin’ your touch, Howds,” he teases, bringing his shake straw to his lips.

“I resent that statement. You’re just distracting.”

“Lil’ me? Distracting? C’mon, you can just tell me I’m pretty to my face. I’ll take it like a champ, I swear!”

“Ha, good try.” The employee sets the pitcher down and starts to mosey in Eddie’s direction. “Your ego is big enough for the both of us as is. One more compliment and your head’ll pop like a balloon.”

“Well, given that most balloons don’t really pop, they just kinda deflate slowly-”

“Sorry for the wait!” the employee says loudly in a glaringly obvious customer service tone. He stops in front of Eddie with a cardboard smile. At the other end of the counter, the familiar man snickers and hides his grin behind his drink. “I trust you found everything you did - and didn’t! - need.”

Eddie just stares up at him for a moment. At six-one, Eddie hasn’t felt small in a very long time. He usually stands at least a full inch above other people. This employee - Howdy, his name tag states - has several more on him.

“Uh, y-yes, I uh, I did,” Eddie stammers, glancing at his items. 

“Wonderful! And again, my sincerest apologies for the delay. My friend makes a game out of keeping me from my job.” Howdy shoots his ‘friend’ a glare with enough heat in it to make an ice cube sweat. 

“No worries.”

Howdy scans the items at an almost frightening speed. Beep, into a paper bag. Beep, in. Beep, beep - “Oh, no.”

“What?” Eddie says, dread plucking at his ribs as Howdy holds the bran muffins and shakes his head. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”

“Indeed there is! You’re making a mistake with these. They’re absolutely horrible, I tell ya - and bad for you, too!” Howdy tuts and puts the box to the side. “No, no, you don’t want those.”

“I… don’t?”

“Not if you knew better! Lucky for you, I’m here to set you straight. What you need is-” he snaps his fingers, “Barnaby, be a pal and-”

“Already on it,” ‘Barnaby’ says, appearing next to Eddie.

If Eddie weren’t already paralyzed, he’d jump right out of his skin from how Barnaby towers over him. He has to be a scant inch or so shorter than Howdy, but he still makes Eddie feel tiny. Unfortunately, Barnaby is even more handsome up close. 

“Here ya go.” Barnaby hands a plastic container to Howdy and taps it, smiling lazily down at Eddie. “I’d take his advice on this one. Those bran-named muffins may sound fancy, but they’re pretty crumby! You want muffins of quality. Real breadwinners!

Eddie can’t help a soft laugh. “Breadwinners, heh, that’s a good one.”

“Are you selling these or am I?” Howdy says, raising a bushy eyebrow. 

“Hey, I’m just doin’ what you asked! I’m bein’ a pal.”

“And I - I’m sorry," Eddie interjects, "but you’re awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Eh, I’ve been around, but uh… you ever been to [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE]?”

Howdy clears his throat. “I’m trying to make a sale here, Barn. You can flirt on your own dime when you’re not costing me mine.”

“Didja know your nose gets redder when you’re jealous?”

Howdy rolls his eyes and shoves Barnaby in the diner’s direction. Barnaby goes with a hearty snicker. Despite the joke, Eddie thinks it has some merit as Howdy scans the final item and rings him up, considerably frostier than before.

Belatedly, Eddie realizes that he didn’t actually agree to the different muffins. Too late now. “Say, what kind of muffins are those?”

“Poppyseed-lemon.”

Eddie relaxes - that is a lot better than boring bran. “Y’know, my mother loved poppyseed-lemon muffins.”

“Did she now,” Howdy drawls.

“Like you wouldn’t believe! If baking was so much as mentioned, she’d jump right on houndin’ us to whip some up for her, or send us to go buy some. We’d never even get a taste! They’d be gone the moment they hit the air, I tell ya.” Eddie chuckles. “Took me a while to understand what all the fuss is about, but man was she right. They are good!”

“Uh-huh. Well, we have a fresh batch delivered every morning. They’re not the same type every time, mind you, but I can promise that they’re all of the highest quality.”

“Breadwinners, right?” Eddie jokes. Howdy doesn’t blink, but Barnaby snorts. He’ll take it. “I might have to come by more often, if that’s the case! Thank you kindly, sir.”

“Mhm, have a good day.” Howdy hands him the bag and strides away without a glance. The dismissal is clear as day. “Say, Barn, did you hear about the racket one of those cult crackpots stirred up at our dear friend’s tearoom?”

Eddie doesn’t catch the tail-end of the sentence as he hurries away, but he frowns. Cult? What cult? There’s a cult? He certainly didn’t hear of one before moving here, and none of his background checks had turned up anything of the sort. He hopes it was just a figure of speech. 

The door chimes again as Eddie leaves. It isn’t until he’s in his car that the embarrassment of that whole exchange catches up with him. If he had a nickel for every time he’d made a fool of himself in front of a gorgeous, strangely familiar man, he’d have three nickels. At the rate he’s going, he’ll either be rich, or he’ll have to move. 

Eddie subtly tries to peek around the store’s window displays from the safety of his car. He catches a scant glimpse of blue hair - come to think of it, it’s a similar shade to Wally’s. But where Wally’s had, to Eddie’s memory, been uniformly dyed right down to his eyebrows, Barnaby’s rich brown roots were obvious. His beard and eyebrows weren’t dyed, either. 

As Eddie relaxes back into his seat, he re-reads at the store’s name. The color drains from his face and he barely restrains himself from slamming his forehead against the steering wheel.

Oh, of course. Of course he made a fool of himself in front of the owner. Eddie can never come back here again. And it was such a nice store…

#wait wym this is almost 2k words what the Fuck! #ok! the writing gods blessed me tonight i guess! #anyway slight context - #in my mind there's a whole Plot and stuff for this au #where it starts off with eddie running into The Group™️ and meeting them mostly separately #before they all meet up and go 'hey yeah you guys ran into eddie from high school too? cool. he's ours now' #and forcibly drag eddie into their little Circle #wh modern human au #snippets from the bog #also sorry about the [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE] lmfao i cant come up with one atm #i want it to be wh-related and Clever #but i am not very clever on a good day and this has been a bad one! and again! im tired! #i. dont know how to tag this. whatever! if you see it you see it! #ok im going to sleep. for a whopping three hours before my alarm goes off. *less than three. Sigh. #i always do this! its like 'oh i have to wake up early tomorrow! lets not sleep at all! im feeling so creative!' #gonna go think about this au's laughingstock as i drift to sleep #FOR THREE. HOURS. #have i mentioned the three hours????

[waywardsalt]

uuuhhhhh wrote a segment of the ganonbeck thing on my phone (this whole thing isnt written on my phone i just have future scenes hashed out on phone) so i figured id share it for: giving a snippet of it bc why not, and to maybe get some feedback on writing ganondorf and the specific concept he talks about?

(this isnt indicatives of the whole fic just a scene delving into ganondorf’s personal conflicts and a little bit of worldbuilding or something. would appreciate some feedback or tips or whatever on this since im not sure if. i wrote this idea well. also hope its generally interesting/fun to read)

#salty talks #tbh tho i think this does kinda set up the dynamic between them and why ganondorf is drawn to linebeck maybe #linebeck is. hes funny in a good mood. he helps lighten ganondorfs mood and helps him disengage from serious stuff #he is also supportive of him fucking killing the king of hyrule. but hes mostly someone that helps ganondorf loosen up #ganondorf is this cunning wise man who holds lofty ambitions and is influenced by the history of his people and lets it motivate him #and linebeck is the image of the cat with the label ‘father i crave violence’ hes a lil ooc and chaotic but he thinks the hylian king sucks #this fic is mostly a lighthearted gay little thing where theyre both in lighter moods exploring the desert #but does have snippets like this about ganondorfs discontent with the hylian kingdom and linebeck struggling with his mental health #making it so it doesnt really exist in a vacuum and can feed into a possible future longer au fic idea #tbh been leaning into linebeck having a similar distaste for the hylian monarchy to ganondorf and carrying it into post ph #which fits in neatly with the headcanon that he is half gerudo so. pieces fitting together #this is mostly unedited btw so if it comes off as rough then yeah. its a first draft #topical with people talking more about the uncomfy way the zelda games approach imperialism n stuff #so i mostly worry about how i write about it here cuz its a concept im still new to and not sure how to really approach #if you saw the version with the images in the wrong order no you didnt #but seriously please let me know how i did writing what ganondorf talks about handling him is scary to me and i want to do good #ganonbeck #linebeck #ganondorf #they are tagged now rejoice

[orcelito]

rereading old thoughts & plans about the Mamakechi Lives au i had going a year ago now & being like "wow this is rly good actually, i should continue this" but knowing i have two other WIPs that i posted a first chapter for but have not touched since bc i am focused on my main thing, discacc, so everything else gets overall neglected

... but also. it's genuinely pretty good

lsdjfslkdfj for the hell of it i'll post the intro i wrote to it here . uh . you're welcome?

Akechi Goro lived by five undeniable truths.  One. The world at large was trash.  Selfishness ran rampant amongst the rich and the poor alike. While the rich hoarded their wealth, laughing at all who dared to be born common, the poor fought tooth and nail for any scrap of affluence they could get their pathetic hands on. Like crabs in a bucket - when one rose up, another would tug them down. Two. Success was everything.  In a society that valued productivity above human lives, to be less than perfect was to commit the worst mortal sin. Those who didn't meet society's expectations were fated to live in poverty and suffering. If one wanted to avoid that fate, they could be nothing less than the best. Three. Friends were useless.  Idealistic stories loved to enthuse about the 'power of friendship', but it was all empty. Pointless. Not once had Goro needed something as pathetic as friends. While others cried at being 'lonely', he spent his time being productive. The idea of friendship was simply a distraction - nothing more and nothing less.  Four. No one would help him. In his nearly 18 years of life, Goro had grown to accept that his life was his responsibility and his alone. Teachers tutted behind his back about how unfortunate he was, while peers mocked him for his ratty clothes. No one ever extended a hand to help him… but it was all the same to him. He didn't need their help. Five. His mother was his reason for living, just as he was hers.  Akechi Shiori was the embodiment of everything that society hated. A single mother, a former sex worker, a sufferer of mental illness and a survivor of attempted suicide. The world did its best to hammer her into the ground, but she never truly gave in. She never would, so long as she had her precious Goro… And she always would. He loved her like he loved no one else. Everything he was, everything he strived for, was for her sake alone. He would capture success so he could give her the life she was denied. He would support her so she could wake up one day after another with a smile.  She was everything to him, just like he was to her. 

#speculation nation #i think i have a tag for this thing. uh #mamakechi lives au #actually i cant find anything for it so slkdjfslkdfj that shall be the tag then i guess #anyways. uhm. #suicide ment/ #this au is just like. me thinking about a no powers au. what it would actually be like if goro managed to save her life #becoming an emotional crutch to her. her reason for living. #growing up with the knowledge that he was the only reason his mother was alive. both from saving her life & stopping her from trying again #working his Ass off since he turned 15 in a job to help support them both. while Also being one of the top students in school #trying to get good grades so he can get into college so he can get a good job so she'll never have to work another day in her life #the ultimate mama's boy. he loves his mom very much. and he would do anything for her. #except it is really So very unhealthy for him. a toxic kind of relationship. where he's largely grown up being the parent to his own mom #he's not quite as mentally ill as akechi in canon. but he's still really not doing great lol. he's just got different complexes #and it... compels me #im incapable of writing anything short so lol if i do write this i gotta be prepared for it being. not short. Lol #ah well. maybe someday. #tho if u did read this snippet & are interested in this au PLS let me know. encouragement could very well allow this to actually exist lol

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | better now

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 summary: 3.9k words, a snippet of a day in the life of husband! joel and his lovely housewife | no apocalypse au, no use of y/n warnings: 18+ MDNI! pre-established relationship/dynamic, unprotected piv, rough sex, free use kink, sub/dom relationship, cum play, spit kink, exhibition kink, dirty talk, pet names for reader, brief mention of alcohol, generally extremely submissive reader so if you're into that this is for you! a/n: not pretending this is anything other than some little fantasy i had that i needed to write out. i'm really excited about this one shot series for husband!joel though, i have some really fun (and depraved) ideas planned for these two for future blurbs so stayed tuned if you like this one! reblogs + comments are always loved and appreciated! ♡

i've decided to start a kofi in case anyone wants to consider a small donation to support my work! ♡

How’s my pretty little wife today?

The words you look forward to each day, falling from your husbands lips in some form or another, whether it’s rasped tenderly in your ear, from between your legs as he smirks up at you, or from over your shoulder as he slams his cock into you, sending you to heaven and back down as soon as he can after walking in the door after work.  

Joel asks the question today after walking up behind you in the backyard, his mouth already next to your ear, warm breath tickling along your skin there as he brushes your hair over your shoulder. The wiry texture of his beard nuzzles right into your neck, sending a thrill down your spine as his arms slide around your waist and hold you tightly to him, swaying you back and forth. The motion is soothing, reminding you that you’re right where you’re meant to be.  

You can smell the workday on him - sweat and dirt and the outdoors, and the lingering scent of the cologne you’d given him this past Christmas. He’d sprayed it on this morning, as he does every morning since you bought it for him. Makes me think of you all day, he’d remind you while you’d watched from your bed with a teasing smile, sheet disheveled and draped over your naked body.

You breathe all of it in, savoring this scent unique to your husband, before touching your hand to where his rests around your belly and stroking it gently.

“Better now,” you answer. More times than not, that’s your response to his routine question, knowing it drives him wild, makes a long day of work ache a little less when he hears you say it.

“S’what I like to hear,” he says, a kiss on your neck leading up to your lips - a long, deep, ravenous kiss that already leaves you breathless. He pulls away so suddenly you nearly have whiplash, your head falling slightly into nothing, missing his lips.

“Smells good out here,” Joel comments, turning his nose up in the air slightly. “Usin’ the new pizza oven already?” 

When you’d made a passing comment about wishing you could make wood fired pizzas at home, just like the ones a restaurant in town serves, Joel seemed to take it seriously, as he did with most things involving your wishes and desires. The next weekend, he’d hauled in bricks and began his work. You’d stepped out into the yard when you heard all the commotion, giving him a quizzical stare, and he’d simply grinned and shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world that he should be building his wife a pizza oven. You’d nearly teared up, feeling grateful and giddy with excitement at your new toy to experiment with. 

Within a few weekends, Joel had finished his new project, always seeming to need one to have around the house, wiping the sweat off his forehead and gleaming with pride at it as he showed you the final product. You’d practically jumped for joy but settled on flinging yourself into his arms to show your appreciation. When that had turned into him fucking you on top of the kitchen counter moments later after he went inside to fetch a cold drink, you hadn’t minded one bit.

“I couldn’t wait,” you say with a grin. When Joel nuzzles your neck again you start to lose your train of thought. His lips press a gentle kiss right on your pulse point, and you sigh into it. “T-trying out margherita today,” you manage to squeak out.

“Hmm,” Joel says, seemingly contemplating the flavor choice in between latching his lips on your neck and sucking, marking you over and over. You’re sure the ones from mere days ago haven’t faded all the way, a smattering of them going right down to your tits, but Joel always needs a fresh mark on you as soon as they start to fade, a way for you to always remember you’re his. He grinds his hard length into your back on the next touch of his lips, and you arch into it a little, your cunt starting to ache more needily for him. 

“F-fresh basil… from the… gar-” you gasp as he pulls you completely flush against his cock, letting out a little, devious laugh.

“Sounds fuckin’ delicious, baby,” he replies. His fingers reach down and toy with the front hem of your dress, delicately sliding his calloused fingers up your thighs, bunching the fabric as he goes. The warmth of his hands on your bare skin blazes a trail up to the apex of your thighs, finally cupping a hand around your warm heat. You instinctively grind into the heel of his hand, and can practically feel Joel smirking behind you. His fingers brush the outside of your panties, starting to rub circles on the wet fabric. He lets out a low growl, deep and needy in the back of his throat feeling the evidence of how much you’d anticipated him coming home. 

“So wet for me already, huh, doll? Couldn’t wait f’me to get home ‘n take care of ya, I bet,” Joel taunts in your ear before sucking on the lobe, and you’ve gone breathless now, nodding your head. His fingers tease the edge of your panties again, finally slipping one underneath the fabric, feeling the obscenity of your wetness directly, and he lets out an impressed tut, sucking in air between his teeth. You nearly moan out at the smallest touch he’s giving you, the way his rough, worn fingers gently brush over your clit for just a split second. 

“She’s so needy, ain’t she?” Joel coos in your ear, swiping a finger to your entrance and back to your clit. You can feel how slickness quickly gathers on Joel’s digits as he teases you. You squeeze your eyes shut and lean back into him, letting your head drop to his shoulder as pleasure wracks your body already.

“Mhm… needs you,” you murmur, turning your head towards his where he meets your lips, continuing steady strokes on your aching bundle of nerves. His lips are softer than you’d think, looking at the hardened grump behind them, but like so many parts of Joel, they are only soft for you.

“Needy, needy girl… good thing I’ve been thinkin’ about gettin’ my cock in that little cunt of yours all day.”

“A-all day?” you say with a little smirk, rutting your ass back into his throbbing length, and Joel groans with the friction.

“Second I pulled out of it this mornin’,” he replies, low voice drumming against your skin, and you shudder, desperate for what you know he’s about to do.

Another routine of yours - Joel comes home from work, and more days than not, he fucks you. And you enjoy every second of it, basking in the attention and his cock filling you up in the way nobody and nothing else can. You crave him night and day, never having gotten your fill, wondering if you ever could. His hunger for you in return only fuels the fire, a vicious circle the two of you seem to have no intention of breaking.

Your weakness lies completely in the man standing behind you, burying his fingers in between your legs and making you moan out wildly before he’s even had his way with you.

“Fuck, gotta get this cock in you, baby, split you open f’me so good, fuck you stupid,” Joel grunts suddenly, interrupting your swirling thoughts, withdrawing his fingers in a flash and leaving you whimpering. It’s not fair, the way he affects you. 

Nobody should have this power over you, but the minute you’d met Joel, you couldn’t deny the way he’d made you feel. Masculine and warm, rough hands and broad shoulders that you’d clung to that same night you’d met him in a bar, fucking mere hours later in the bathroom. Even in your drunken haze you’d submitted to him fully, Joel having no problem ordering and throwing you around the bathroom like you were just a toy to play with, his little doll. You’d found that you could never look back after that night, the safety he represented to you, the adoration he showered you with, the way he fucked you like it was his last time every time. When Joel saw how willing you were to be his in the way he craved from a woman, there was no stopping the insatiable beast he became, hellbent on never letting another man feel your touch again. Joel promised you a good life, an amazing life, even, and in the last few years, he had more than delivered for you. 

“Hush now, you’ll have what you want in a second,” he says, running a quick stroke of his fingers through your hair, giving it a tug. On principle, you let out a little mewl at the sensation, too many instances of your hair being tugged and pulled with Joel involved to not recall those memories with the pain of it. You hear the jangle of his belt as he frees himself from his jeans, the familiar sound of Joel’s thick, heavy cock slapping against his hand as he fists it. You’re already cock drunk without having seen the damn thing yet, and it’s nearly laughable how pliable you are when Joel’s involved. It’s always been that way - you’ve been happy to oblige his every desire, no matter when, where, how he wanted it, or the frequency. You were his to use, to pleasure, to fuck senseless, and you got off on the way all of it steadily built his need for you just as much as it did with your need for him.

“Please…” you whine, trying to slip out of his grasp and start for the sliding glass door to the house, making the assumption that he’d be taking you inside at any moment to take what he needed from you. 

Joel immediately tightens his hold on you, a dark tut in your ear that goes straight to your clit.

“Not so fast, little doll,” he croons, hand grabbing your cunt through your dress again to hold you to him. “Right here,” he adds on, turning your body towards the outdoor dining table in the backyard. 

“J-Joel… right here?” you question, knowing you shouldn’t. It won’t matter anyways. “The… t-the neighbors…” you whimper quietly as Joel crowds you against the table, tearing your dress up over your ass, revealing your lacy little thong to him. He groans at the sight of your bare ass ready for him to claim before roughly shimmying your underwear halfway down your thighs. He places a rough hand on your back, pressing you down into the table so that you’re completely bent over, your hands splaying out into the wood to support yourself. 

“Let them see…” Joel says quietly, a heady murmur as he slips his cock between your thighs and notches himself at your weeping entrance. “Let them see how much I love fuckin’ my wife.” He pushes in on the last sentence, and you gasp at the stretch and burn of his girth. Your vision goes white for a moment with the mix of pure pain and pleasure, and your mouth hangs open, panting in delight as he fills you inch by inch. 

“Mmm… such a sweet little pussy, honey…” Joel says quietly once he’s seated fully inside of you. He’s just as lost in the bliss of it as you are. “Know I’d fuckin’ live right here if I could.”

You give him a little moan of satisfaction, wiggling your hips to give yourself any sensation of movement from his cock. He places his hands on either side of your hips, squeezing his grip tightly enough to bruise before starting to thrust himself into you. You cry out in a yelp, the noise passing though your lips before you can even control it. 

“Yeah…” you whimper, face pressed against the table, trying to peek up as Joel looms above you, like some higher being that has the power to decide your fate, to decide the pleasure or pain you’ll have to endure in this moment. And truthfully, you do worship him. The way he moves inside of you, makes you crumble underneath even the lightest of his touches. The way he spoils you in every regard - you’ve never wanted for a single thing for as long as you’ve been Joel’s, him vowing to take care of everything you ever need, and in return, you take care of everything he needs. 

To some, it might seem like there’s a lack of balance in the way you do things, but fuck do you love it, you think as you desperately cling onto the table, manicured nails digging into the wood as Joel’s cock rams back into you, pressing so deep inside of you that you see stars.

You let out a low, strangled sound, whining as Joel begins to press against your cervix, the front of your thighs bumping into the table with every new thrust from him. He grunts with the exertion, fucking into you hard, taking what he wants, leaving you both breathless with the need for more of each other. You let Joel take and take and take because of how much he gives in return - while he loves to use you, he always makes sure you get every bit of pleasure you deserve for being so good to him.

When you continuously moan louder as Joel fucks you towards your high, you glance around, the small sliver of your brain that’s still rational worried about you two getting caught by your neighbors. The thought is equally mortifying as it is thrilling, but you decide you’d rather not deal with the embarrassment today if you can help it.

“Still worried about the neighbors, hm, pretty girl? I’ve got an idea,” Joel says, responding to your sudden nervousness. Before you can even answer, his hands are wrapping around your shoulders, urging you up from the table. You follow along, breathless and dazed, letting him move you as he wishes, too deliriously starry eyed for him to care about anything else other than what Joel is gearing up to do to you next.

He accidentally slides out with the movement of your body, and immediately he’s grasping at your hips, practically clawing his way back to you as he pulls you tight to his body again. His throbbing, dripping cock slaps periodically against your ass as he shoves you forward, pushing your body towards the house. 

“Here,” he grits out, suddenly crowding your body from behind to press you against the sliding glass door. “That better?”

“I- yes,” you say, eyes wide from the way you’d been roughly handled by him the last few moments. Your cunt aches almost painfully, having been getting so close to your climax only to have it ripped away suddenly when Joel decided to move you.

“Good,” he snips quietly. “Couldn’t stand to keep this cock out of you much longer’n this.”

With his words he brings his lips to the back of your neck again, just his heavy breathing fanning across the skin there, making you wild as he repositions himself and nudges your legs apart with his knee. You feel the length of him tease between your legs, sliding up to your entrance again. He groans loudly, letting you know how badly he wants you, so you try to pop your hips up at just the right angle you know he’s looking for. 

He slides in effortlessly and with a renewed vigor, hips snapping into you, pressing you further into the sliding glass door with neither of you seeming to be worried about the way it’s suddenly shaking on the frame. It’s completely lewd, the way you imagine the two of you - your entire body against glass, tits being pressed out the top of your dress and bouncing, palms spread against the smooth surface, nails clawing and unable to grasp at anything.

Your body is shaking in his hold now, Joel’s cock hitting inside of you in all the right places. You can feel yourself tensing, almost like every cell is going taut, your core pooling heat deep inside of you with molten pleasure from Joel hitting the spongy bit inside of you. 

“Fuck, love it when you sound like that f’me, doll,” Joel punches out as he hears your moans becoming louder and more desperate the longer he continues to thrust against your g-spot. You can’t respond, only continue your lustful noises with a renewed vigor as you try to bounce your hips back into his thrusts, getting him deeper than what’s even possible, the length of him already burying up to the hilt each time he drives himself into you.

“Know you wanna come for me, baby,” he says right in your ear, voice hoarse with need, and you whimper in response as his hand snakes around your hips and in between your legs, circling a gentle pressure on your clit. 

You feel your hold on reality completely break, your eyes squeezing shut as you melt into the way your entire body is tingling with pleasure now, waves of it turning into spasms as you go practically limp with shaky knees. Joel’s hands hold you in place, his warm strength keeping you upright as you push down onto his cock, riding out your climax and screaming for him. 

When your movements start to slow and your body relaxes, Joel thrusts into you even harder, loving the way you’re so compliant and soft after climaxing, letting him move in you however he needs as you ride out the sensitive aftershocks with a few quiet yelps.

“This little pussy is all mine, y’know that, right?” Joel reminds you through clenched teeth, giving your ass a firm slap. You nod vigorously, eyes still half lidded and mind scrambled from the way he’d shattered you mere moments ago.

“Y-yes, Joel,” you say when he slaps your ass again, demanding an answer. Your breathy answer is enough to get him to his own climax, and he surprises you by pulling out suddenly, leaving your body lurching back into nothing, missing the fullness of him already. Before you can protest, say anything, Joel’s hands grip your shoulders and spin you around and push down, forcing you onto your knees in one fluid, swift motion. You watch, wide eyed, as he fists his throbbing cock, shiny and coated in your own slick arousal as he spreads it along his shaft in jerking motions.

“Be a good girl and open up,” he commands, and you submit to the words immediately, mouth hanging open, even sticking your tongue out for good measure. Joel smirks at that before giving himself another swift tug, and you watch in renewed wonder as he begins to spill himself all over your face, ropes of cum hitting your skin. You taste him on your tongue immediately, savoring it. Your eyes are glued up on Joel’s face, watching his glazed gaze taking in the scene below him as he groans in pleasure, trying not to tilt his head back and get lost in the moment so he doesn’t miss a beat of your beautiful surrender to him.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he watches the last bits of his release hit your tongue. “Don’t you dare swallow that, yet, doll,” he adds on quickly, eyes fluttering for a moment before he tucks himself back into his slacks. He continues to tower over you for a prolonged few seconds, looking down in satisfaction at the image of your glowing, angelic face coated in something so sinful, the milky substance starting to drip down your face, your tongue trembling slightly with the need to swallow.

“Hold still,” he says needlessly since as the words come out of his mouth he grabs your chin, tilting your head upwards and gathering spit, letting a long, tortuously slow drip of it fall into your open mouth. It lands on your tongue, combining with his cum and Joel smirks again, releasing your chin.

“Swallow, my little doll,” he says, voice starting to go soft, an indication that he’s feeling satisfied and finished with his enjoyment of you. You close your mouth, smile, and swallow obviously for him, licking your lips for good measure. 

Joel holds out a hand, helping you stand, your legs buckling slightly as you try to get your bearings. He carefully smooths your disheveled dress, flattening the bottom half and tugging the neckline back into place before fixing the straps to sit perfectly square on your shoulders, eyes roaming over quickly to examine his work with pride. His hands then move to your hair, brushing his fingers gently to put it back in its place, leaving every part of you like none of this had just happened besides your face, still dripping with his spill. Your smile widens, seeing him watch a particularly large spot of it sliding down your cheek. You see his composure fail for a moment before he strokes your cheek gently, avoiding any of the mess there, giving you soft, affectionate eyes.

“Good girl,” he says quietly, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Pizza’s probably ready,” he adds on, the casual tone taking you aback for only a moment before you blink yourself back to reality and nod dutifully.

“Of course,” you say, a genuine smile plastered on your face as you look at your handsome husband, admiring the way he’s looking at you with stars dancing across his eyes, the deepest love for you tucked away in his deep brown irises.

“After you get that, go clean yourself up, doll,” he says, and you nod again, the smile not leaving your face. You see out of the corner of your eye Joel settle onto one of the chairs at your outdoor table, leaning back casually as if he hadn’t just had you bent over that exact table, fucking you for the entire neighborhood to possibly see and hear.

You gather everything you need, serving utensils, plates, and two cold beers before bringing it to the table along with the pizza and a freshly tossed salad you’d made to accompany it. Each time you drop something off, the smirk on Joel’s face grows, watching the way you work with the evidence of his obsession with you still lingering on your flushed cheeks.

Once the table is set and your face cleaned off, you join Joel outside to enjoy the beautiful spring evening, and see he’s already served you two generous slices of the margherita pizza. 

He reaches a hand onto the table, taking yours delicately into his palm, dwarfing it with the size of his thick fingers as he absentmindedly runs his thumb along your knuckles, stopping to play with the large, gorgeous diamond on your ring finger. Another reminder to him that he has you all to himself, his pretty little wife.

“Thanks for dinner, baby” he says, eyes locked on yours as he uses a free hand to pick up the pizza and take a large bite, letting out a little noise in satisfaction at the flavor.

“Anytime.” You smile, genuine and tranquil, a fresh appreciation and love for the life you’ve found yourself so grateful to be living.

tysm to @jupiter-soups @huffle-punk @rensraptor for so much help with ideas and writing this fic! love u guys x

#PLS DON'T LET THIS FLOP i'm very proud of it #fic: pretty little wife #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #x reader #pedro pascal character x reader

[suga-kookiemonster]

ctrl-alt-del | jjk (teaser)

summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.) pairing⇢ jungkook/reader teaser word count⇢ 1.4k genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au warnings⇢ nothing too bad for this teaser! just a mention of oral

a/n⇢this fic has literally been sitting in my wips for YEARS lmao. i feel like it's finally time to set it free 🕊️✨ it's looking like it's gonna lean more towards pwp, but there's definitely still enough plot in there to keep it interesting. not sure when it will be up, but wanted to share a snippet to get your thoughts and get myself excited to finish the last leg--fingers crossed for the next month or so 🤞🏾🙌🏾💜

When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.

Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.

You’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every couple of weeks, the company sponsors an employee barbecue were everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.

“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”

Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though as sweet as can be, she has no filter, and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in some situations where you found it inappropriate. Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate (instead of your measly Assistant)means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started, and she is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing.).

“I think it’s nice,” you reply. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”

“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”

Your eyes dart to said Sales boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?

An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”

“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.

“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.

The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards speaking about inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.

“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.

He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue buttonup. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.

The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.

“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”

Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”

“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”

“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”

“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”

He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up. 

“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.

“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”

“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.

Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.

Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”

“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”

“IT guy?” you ask, hoping to slide past that last remark.

“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. The rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.

Wendy scoffs. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”

“Soccer game?” you ask.

“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy informs you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”

To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching him run back and forth across the grass.

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #bts fic #mine #fic: ctrl alt del #bby

[jjunieworld]

UNDER THE CHERRY BLOSSOM TREE ˒˒ 최범규

it’s confession day and you want nothing more than to receive a crush from your longtime friend, beomgyu.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ choi beomgyu x fem!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 yeonjun, soobin, and yeji from itzy

genre﹙📄﹚⸝⸝⸝ toothrotting fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining but you both are oblivious, highschool au ???

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ literally watched beomgyu’s cover and music video and was struck by sudden inspiration and motivation and i just had to write something based off it! ❀ so here is a super cute little drabble in honor of beomgyu’s cover, i hope you enjoy!! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

∿ [ 1.7k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]

today was a day you both loved and absolutely hated—confession day. the day where you confess your feelings to the one who you like most.

the hallways were giddy with excitement and you couldn’t help being lured to the feeling. everyone was alight with what the day could possibly behold. as you made your way to your locker to put your bag away, you heard various snippets of conversations:

“i’m scared to open my locker! what if there isn’t any note inside?” “—and he wrote for me to meet him on the football field after school!” “who do you think yeonjun will confess to? i heard from hana that he was eying her, but mina said the same thing!” “well i heard hana say that jake was going to confess to her today on the rooftop!” “—to meet near the school gates!”

a soft smile made its way onto your lips. confession day—at least the start of it—was always one that made you happy inside. you loved seeing other people finally confess their feelings to to each other. it was also fun for you and your friends to make bets on who would confess to who.

just as you reached for the lock of your locker, you friend yeji ran up to you with a thrilled expression, her black hair flying into her face as she came to a sudden stop. “it’s confession day!” she squealed repeatedly, brushing her hair out of her face and linking her arm with yours once you got your books out. “who do you think will confess to who later today?”

“apparently hana has many suitors,” you shrugged and the two of you giggled slightly as you walked the halls slowly to your homeroom. suddenly yeji turned to you, a playful grin lighting up her face with a scrunched nose. oh god, you thought, what is she about to say?

she tickled your side, making you squirm away with a laugh. “do you think beomgyu is going to confess to you today?” she asked. you swatted her hand away, heat creeping up your neck as you looked forward to try and hide how flustered the question made you. you shrugged again, hopeful smile curling your lips.

beomgyu sat at his desk surrounded by his two friends, yeonjun and soobin. he shifted a sealed envelope from hand to hand, “to y/n” written on it. the red striped tie and dark blue blazer of his uniform suddenly seemed so constricting. “—and tell me exactly what you wrote in the letter,” he heard the tail end of yeonjun’s sentence.

beomgyu had already told soobin just minutes prior and he sighed softly as he dragged his eyes up from the letter. nerves flowed through him as he recounted the letter again for yeonjun.

dear, y/n

would you meet me under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks after school?

beomgyu

it was a very simple letter, really. beomgyu had wanted to give his confession in person to you rather than through a letter or any other means. yeonjun’s face contorted in thought. “maybe spice it up a little?” he suggested.

“i like it. it’s simple and right to the point. besides, he said he wants to confess in person,” soobin cut in before beomgyu could. yeonjun hummed before nodding slowly. “i guess it could work!”

just as yeonjun finished talking, the homeroom door opened. you and your friend—yeji, who he’s come to know of—stepped through; arms linked as you leaned into each other to whisper something he couldn’t hear. a low laugh emitted from you and beomgyu swore it was the prettiest, most melodic thing he has ever heard.

the sunlight from the open blinds of the classroom cascaded down onto your frame, illuminating you like you were on a stage. beomgyu just couldn’t believe how pretty you were. your eyes connected with his, that bright smile of yours still on your face, and you waved your hand slightly to wave at him. your bright smile turned sheepish as you quickly looked away and you and yeji made it to your seats.

from just one look, beomgyu could practically see your future together. he wanted to be yours and you to be his so desperately. he wanted to do simple day to day activities with you, like helping you with homework and putting your books into your locker. he wanted to take you to the movies and talk about what you decided to see and walk you home after, fingers just barely brushing past each other. you were just so cute.

“look at him, there’s literally hearts in his eyes,” beomgyu distantly heard yeonjun say. his eyes were still on you until fingers snapped in his face, startling him back to reality. soobin pulled back his arm with a laugh and beomgyu rolled his eyes. he glanced back to you briefly, small smile forming on his face before returning his attention back to his friends.

beomgyu looked down again at the letter in his hands. he had meant to put it in your locker this morning before you arrived, but chickened out at the last second. that’s why he was here, enlisting the help of his two idiot bestfriends to ensure everything goes off without a hitch.

soobin laid a hand on beomgyu’s shoulder and patted it comfortingly, “you got this, man! it’s so obvious that the two of you like each other!” yeonjun nodded in agreement. beomgyu sighed and tucked the letter under his books. he hesitantly let their words fill him with confidence and hope. i really hope she does, he thought.

you turned slightly and looked over your shoulder, just barely catching a glimpse of beomgyu. you turned back towards yeji with a lovesick smile. “it’ll happen, don’t worry! it’s so obvious that the two of you like each other!” yeji comforted you. you just sighed and directed the conversation to a different topic. i really hope he does, you thought.

when you were grabbing your bag from your locker, mid conversation with yeji, a small white envelope fluttered to the ground at your feet. yeji gasped as you bent to pick it up with wide eyes. yeji drew closer to you, hiding the letter from the view of the other students making their way towards the entrance of the school. “open it, open it!” she exclaimed.

with a deep breath you carefully opened the envelope that had “to y/n” written on it in familiar handwriting. carefully you opened up the delicate letter and read the contents, yeji beside you taking in every word as well. you froze in shock for a split second before a wide smile broke out onto your face and it took everything in you to keep from jumping up and down.

“he wants me to meet him under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks…” you breathed lowly, shock still reeling you. you repeated yourself, each word getting louder as you turned and grasped yeji’s hands with excitement and almost crinkling the letter, “he wants me to meet him under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks!”

you had gathered the attention of the students walking by and heat suddenly spread across your face and immediately calmed you down. unfortunately, just as you shrunk into your locker, your eyes briefly connected with beomgyu’s bestfriend and resident golden boy of your school—choi yeonjun.

he looked in your direction and you just barely managed to catch the smile he gave to beomgyu’s other bestfriend—choi soobin—and the words forming from his lips.

your grip on yeji’s hands tightened as you quickly pulled her towards the girls restroom. “oh my god!” she exclaimed and began jumping the two of you up and down. excited giggles left both of your lips and echoed off the walls of the restroom.

“oh my god,” yeji repeated, suddenly serious. “he means meet him now. you have to go, like, right now!” worry suddenly broke through all your emotions at the possibility of beomgyu thinking that you wouldn’t show. yeji started pushing you towards the door of the restroom.

“oh my god!” you worriedly repeated yeji’s words. in response, all she repeated was, “go, go, go!”

you booked it out of the restroom and out of the school, running all the way until you saw the familiar cherry blossom tree down the hill in front of where the school sat. distantly, you saw beomgyu’s figure waiting for you and you inhaled deeply as you made slow strides towards him. you held the letter close to your heart and tried to control your nerves the closer and closer you got to the tree.

at your incoming footsteps, beomgyu turned to you and you gasped softly and how beautiful he was. a flustered—and somewhat sheepish—smile spread across your face and you stepped just mere inches from where he stood. “i got your letter,” you said as you looked up into his eyes.

the falling cherry blossoms around beomgyu’s head and soft afternoon light framed him perfectly and it made you wonder just how lucky you were that you were the one he chose to confess to.

beomgyu opened his mouth, only to close it and have a matching sheepish smile overtake it. just as he went to open it again, a cherry blossom fell onto his head, caught in the dark strands of his hair. he looked up, just as you did as well, and you both chuckled. “can we start seeing each other?” beomgyu ask you quietly, plucking the flower from his hair and holding it out to you.

if it were even possible, your smile widened and you accepted the outstretched flower. from the corner of your eye saw yeji, yeonjun, and soobin huddle together behind a bush directly across from the two of you. yeji nudged them out of the way to get a good look but accidentally ruffled some of the leaves of the bush. you saw the three of them drop down quick as lightning behind the bush before you or beomgyu could see them.

you nodded and softly spoke, “i would really like that.” a toothy grin spread on beomgyu’s lips. finally, the one he adored the most was his.

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ] all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

🏷️﹙ want to be added to my permanent taglist? click here ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @yeonjunsfox @rapmonie2047 @jeonghaniehaee @nxzz-skz @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

#txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu x y/n #txt beomgyu #choi beomgyu x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop #txt soobin #txt hueningkai #txt yeonjun #txt taehyun #tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together imagines #kpop x reader #txt #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt angst #txt fluff #beomgyu angst #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu drabble #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu fanfic #txt fanfic

[pimosworld]

Pairing-Joel Miller x f!reader 

Summary- Joel’s a grump when it’s hot and also when he gets jealous. 

CW- 18+, No outbreak au, established relationship, mostly fluff, grumpy Joel, reader is not described, possessive Joel, family dynamics, illusions to smut, joel is down bad for reader. 

  WC-1.9k

 A/N- I can’t wait for summer so I wrote this little snippet into the life of the Joel I think about often. May do a spicy part two if the mood strikes me. 

[Main Masterlist][Joel Miller Masterlist]

Not beta read

Dog Days

He told you he’d behave. Begrudgingly and with promise that you’d make it up to him. That’s the only thought he clings to as he sits in this lawn chair that’s too small for him. The only seat away from everyone else so he doesn’t have to do the small talk thing. He can still see you though. Sun kissed and smiling at something Maria is saying. 

  He still doesn’t know how you do it, how you make it look so effortless even on the hottest day of the year. His shirt clings to him and he’s sweating in places he wouldn’t speak of out loud and you just stand there all heaven sent like it’s a different temperature in your world. 

  Your world bled into his before he knew what hit him. He started to enjoy sunsets and stopped to smell the flowers, because that’s what you liked to do and he quickly learned that anything that made you happy made him feel like the most fortunate man in the world. He’s fortunate to have you every morning, waking up curled into his side as you steal sleepy kisses along his chest and his arms. He pretends to be asleep for as long as he can until he’s so worked up he has to make you come at least twice before you extract yourselves from the bed. 

  That’s where he wants to be right now as he stares at some prehistoric bug that’s landed in his warm beer, flailing and hoping someone can put him out of his misery much like he hopes after being dragged to this godforsaken barbecue. Despite it being his own brother he would have gladly come up with any excuse not to be here. He loves his family but sometimes he couldn’t stand Tommy. 

  ‘Who has a party on the hottest day of the year?’ You laughed earlier as he grumbled about in the kitchen helping you pack away the things you prepared in the cooler. 

  ‘He can’t control the weather Joel. You know he’s excited about the new house.”You with your rational thought and kind heart. 

  ‘Who’s side are you on Darlin?’ He caged you in against the counter as he ran his hands up your thighs. You shiver under his touch and he knows it wouldn’t take much to convince you to stay home. 

  Your hands meet his as you pull them up higher, bunching your dress a little to reveal those cheeky shorts he couldn’t get enough of. You wrap his hands around your waist as you run yours up his arms and around his neck. His chocolate brown eyes are glazed over as you slowly put him under some trance. Your lips kiss that spot in his beard as your nails scratch at his scalp and he has to brace himself against the counter to keep himself grounded. ‘I’m always on your side Miller.’ 

  “What’s up with you brother?” Tommy slaps his back bringing him back to this fresh hell. A man can’t even day dream in peace. 

  “It’s hot.” He grumbles and goes to take a sip of his beer before he remembers and chucks it out on the grass. 

  Tommy licks his lips as a smirk pulls across his face, no doubt thinking of something to say that will have Joel flying off the handle. His niece is running towards them with the same look on her face to save him from his impending death. Wild black curls bouncing in her face to match her parents. 

  Tommy holds his arms out for his daughter but she crashes her small body into Joel as the weight of her hit causes a small creak in the lawn chair. A muffled hi uncle Joel is said into his shirt as Tommy stands there defeated. “You stayin out of trouble?” 

  She just shrugs her shoulders and offers her hand out to him. An ice cold Diet Coke she’s barely able to get her little hands around. A mystery smudge is on her shirt and her pants have seen better days. Tommy wanted a boy but he was pleasantly surprised when her little personality started to take hold and he quickly realized he had his hands full with this one. Her two front teeth are missing and the smile etched across her face is a mischievous one. “Thanks sweetheart.” Joel takes it from her, it’s still cold despite having traversed the lawn and been subjected to the warmth of her hands. He’ll wait a moment to open it, no doubt jostled as she ran over here. 

  “My mommy said you look hotter than h e double hockey sticks.” 

  “Izzy!” Tommy snaps at her and Joel can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. 

  “What…I spelled it. I didn’t say Hell.” She rolls her neck and he swears he can see Maria in that moment. 

  “Isabella.” Tommy’s voice drops an octave in warning as she backs away slowly with her hands raised. 

  She reminds him so much of Tommy when he was younger. It’s only fair that he gets a taste of his own medicine. When Joel met you the decision had already been made that you didn’t want kids and Sarah was almost in college and Joel didn’t want to start over. It was a relief to find someone that could love his child so fiercely despite it not being their own. Izzy came barreling into their lives shortly after Sarah left and you loved that little bundle of joy like it was the last thing on earth. 

  There’s little hints of you in her sprinkled throughout your time together. Her insistence on correcting people and their grammar, the way she defends others although you told her she should try to use her words more after she punched some kid on the playground for bullying a smaller kid. Joel may have had a hand in that one. 

  Joel cracks the can as Tommy drones on about repairs that need to be done to the house. He already knows what his brothers’ getting at and he doesn’t even need to ask…of course he’s going to help him take on whatever project needs to be done to get the house in order for the new baby. He knew Tommy was nervous before Izzy arrived and this brings on a whole new level of responsibility. They were so grateful they’d found a house down the street from you and Joel with just two months to spare before this new bundle arrived. 

  He takes a sip of the bubbly cold drink, the sweetness is slightly off. You swore he wouldn’t be able to tell but of course he can. His doctor told him to cool it on the sodas and he made the mistake of telling you. You care so much…too much. You called his brother and Maria and now they’re watching him like a hawk so he has to sneak the ones with real sugar like a junky getting his fix. 

  In the brief moments he’d been graced by Tommy’s presence he lost sight of you. His eyes scan the large backyard, the kids playing in some dirt mound, some guys from the job site ribbing each other by the grill. You and Maria are by the cooler with some mystery man while you rub her swollen belly. His eyes roam down your body as you bend over to lay a kiss to it and whisper sweet words to your soon to be niece or nephew. 

  You stand and try to adjust the strap on that dress he loves so much. You’re always complaining about how the straps never stay up and he supposes you keep it just for him. He’ll have to remember to burn it when you get home as he grits his teeth and watches the man get an obvious look down the front of your dress. 

  “Who’s that?” Joel juts his chin toward the end of the yard as Tommy squints his eyes. 

  “Don’t.” 

  “I just asked his goddamn name Tommy.” He huffs at his brother and he just shakes his head. The heat was already getting to him before and now it’s at a fever pitch. 

  “His name is James, we just hired him.” Tommy holds his arms out in a mock satisfaction and Joel’s not in the mood for his theatrics. 

  “We? Hired him.” Joel shifts and he hears the chair creak again. He stands up abruptly not wanting to be flat on his ass because of his brother's crappy lawn furniture. 

  “Yes Joel…remember you put me in charge of staffing the site?” 

  Joel just hums under his breath as he crosses his arms over his chest. He’ll have to remember to start vetting the candidates again if this is the type of people Tommy’s got working for them. 

  The man is crossing the lawn towards them with a presidential smile and Joel’s already pissed. He greets Tommy and offers his hand to Joel as he begins to introduce himself. 

  “James is it?” Joel squeezes the man's hand a little too tight as he winces. Tommy retreats not wanting to be a witness to whatever Joel was going to say or do. At this point he knew there was no stopping him. 

  “Mr. Miller, it’s nice to meet you.” He doubts that and he can tell by the look on his face that he’s already sorely regretting walking over here. 

  “You don’t really have an eye for jewelry do ya?” Joel cocks his head waiting for an answer, an easy trap to set for a simpleton like James. There’s no right answer. Not when he’s got his teeth sunk into him. “See I noticed almost immediately that there’s a ring on your finger.” He gestures to the man’s hand and holds up his own. “You didn’t seem to notice my wife’s hand when you were eye fuckin the shit out of her.” 

  “Hi Honey.” Your sweet voice hits his ears as your hand travels up his arm, working your way behind his neck to rub that spot that seems to always make him deflate. 

  James uses this momentary distraction to run away with his tail tucked. 

  “You behavin?” You purr at him as he drops his head down to let you run your fingers through his hair. 

  “Always sugar.” His words slurred a little as he succumbed to your touch. You’re like a sedative the way you seep into his veins and put him in a trance like state. 

  He can’t see your eyebrows raised at him as you scan the backyard for the offending party. “Come on Miller, let’s get you home and cool you off before someone gets fired.” 

  He starts to speak but you shush him with your finger placed gently on his mouth. A quick glance over your shoulder and you lean up kissing him deep. It almost takes him by surprise how you still have this effect on him. No longer concerned with the heat or the stress at work or his brother’s constant annoyance. You can silence all those thoughts with just a taste of your lips. You break away when you hear the whoops coming from Tommy and Joel grumbles under his breath. 

  The strap on your shoulder slides down and you sigh a little as Joel runs his finger underneath, feeling your smooth skin turn to goosebumps. It’s intoxicating the way he knows he has that same effect on you. He’s smirking to himself as he reaches behind you and adjusts the strap, getting a glimpse down the front and the soft swell of your breast. 

  “Looks like you and James have something in common.” You laugh as he scowls at you, the kind of laugh that has tears at the corner of your eyes. 

  “Don’t push it darlin.” 

Comments and and reblogs are much appreciated

#joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #tlou imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joelmiller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller au #joel miller x female reader

[ethereal-night-fairy]

This dark vampire poly!141 x hostage!reader idea is based off a comment I got on one of my works on Ao3 I would love to tag them if they were on Tumblr but I don't think they are.

Comment : Oh I'd love a vampire au! An idea for it if you are open to consideration: the 141 have been around for centuries, John pretty much turned all of them starting with Simon, then with Johnny, and then with Gaz being the youngest (although Gaz is still over a century old). Reader, of course, is human, moving to a new town to start over completely and ends up running into one of them. And they just know that reader is the missing piece that they had been looking for--the one that is the last to be bound to them. Because for an immortal creature it only makes sense that they would, in even just the name of species preservation, have multiple mates dictated by fate, instinct, or what have you :)

This sounds like a great premise for a vampire au. Also what if Knight price was turned in the medieval ages by a vampire lord he was tasked to kill and ended up being turned as he killed the last of the vampire kin for the English king. He fled obviously when he realised what happened letting his knights think he was killed in battle.

-

Time passes and he doesn't age, he watched his loved ones from a distance growing old and having children before ultimately passing away. It pains him that he lives like an animal hunting for blood in the forest unable to live a normal life.

But he still wishes to do, to be good . So as his powers build and the sun doesn't scorch his skin anymore. He joins the army century after century to regain some sense of humanity. (That's a horrible way to regain humanity if I'm honest, though in his defence he fell for the propaganda and thought he was doing a good thing.) But the bloodlust becomes so much worse the more he kills. The more blood stains his hands the more he longs for the chaos and violence.

He gathers companions along the way. Men like him that were on the brink of death but had so much to live for. He couldn't let them die he just couldn't! By the 21st century he had his little taskforce. His boys, his lovers, his family but someting was missing. What could it be? They lived comfortably with the wealth they had accumulated. They had their buffet layed out for them on the battlefield. What more could they want?

But something was out of place. Even with his lovers, life was becoming bleak when all they saw was violence and bloodshed. That was until they found a delicate little hostage in their capture or kill mission. Scared little thing you were tucked away in the corner of a bedroom, chained to the wall. You'd do nicely as their pet. They bet your blood tastes just as sweet as your tears.

Their reply: Oh I love it! Johnny being a warrior that at the Battle of Culloden, fighting for Scottish independence from the British, happens to die while fighting an infuriating man. Said infuriating man, dying by the Scottsmans hand, just so happens to be lieutenant Simon. Price having already planned to watch over Simon (he said he wouldn't get attached) yet he can't help but to turn Johnny too. Neither are happy at first, they have their differences, but they can't deny the bond and love that forms. Then the three of them meet Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick in world war ii. So bright and full of life, passionate about fighting for his country and ending Nazi regime. The man runs right into a fight, saving dozens upon dozens of men, and the three know they can't let him remain dead when the inevitable comes. And Gaz, well, he keeps that light within him because at least now he can make sure that the war to end all wars wasn't done in vain.

I just wanted to show off their ideas too since it's what inspired my little snippet. I not sure if I'll turn this into a actual thing though.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

#poly!141 #poly 141 #tf141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #vampire!141 #vampire au #vampire!au #vampire!price #vampire!ghost #vampire!gaz #vampire!soap #vampire tf141 #captain john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #yandere price #yandere ghost #yandere gaz #yandere soap #price x ghost x gaz x soap #I ~ writes #captain john price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #captain price smut #simon riley smut #kyle garrick smut #john mactavish smut

[starry-bi-sky]

Snippets for my Clone^2 Au that I thought was funny...

in incorrect quotes style format (Clone^2 = Both my Clone Damian Au and Clone Bruce Danny aus combined)

Snippet 1: Danny and Damian meeting for the first time

Danny, avoiding Damian's katana: I don't wanna know who made you I don't wanna know who made you I don't wanna know who made you Danny: pleASE STOP TRYING TO STAB ME

------- Snippet 2: Danny and Damian meeting (Alternative)

Bby Damian: gets dropped off in the ONE city where his dad's clone is Danny, internally: damn I don't wanna know who made you

Danny: alright little buddy, lets -- *blocks Damian's sword* please don't stab me -- let's get you something to -- *blocks Damian's sword* please don't stab me -- something to EAT

------------- Snippet 3: Danny checking out books in the library Librarian: oh, are you trying to learn arabic, Mister Fenton?

Danny: oh- uh, yeah :) my parents recently,,, took in a foster kid from overseas,,,, but we found out he doesn't know english and he's having a hard time adjusting Danny, lying (only partially) through his teeth: so I,,, thought,,, maybe it would help him acclimate to his new environment if I learned some arabic :) Librarian: oh how sweet! let me know if you need any help, i can find you more books Danny: thank you

----------

Snippet 4: Damian wants to patrol Damian: let me come with you on patrol Danny, 16 year old idiot who fights without powers: uh. no. you are Itty Bitty Child Damian: comes with anyways

----------- Snippet 5: Damian, trying to fight a ghost without a ghost-proof sword: Danny, catching him and holding him against his chest: *radiating exhaustion* no,,,, no,,,,, not yet,,,,

-------- Snippet 6: danny has an epiphany Danny, realizing that he needs to set an example now that Damian is coming with him on patrol: fUCK Danny: I NEED AN ACTUAL SUIT ---------- Snippet 7; dynamic duo Danny: what is it with you and batman and robin???? Damian, silently sweating: ,,,,,,,because they are exemplary partners and i would like to think that us two are the same Danny, doesnt know identities: ...aww??? thats kinda sweet??? okay :)

---------- Snippet 8: hypocrite Damian: dijaal (affectionate) Danny, on day ?? of solving a cold case after a ghost asked him to: hrbhk - Damian, what are you doing up? it's late, you have school in the morning Damian, staring at him deadpan: you have school too. you should go to bed Danny: five min..utes buddy. then i'll go to bed Damian, grabbing the back of his rolling chair and pushing him to bed: no. now. danny, with eyebags the size of the marianna trench: ...fine. now.

--------- Snippet 9: ...the line Danny, doing homework with Sam and Tucker: Danny: *has an epiphany* wait. shit Tucker and Sam: ...? Danny, his head in his hands: am I Damian's dad or his brother?? Danny: wh- what do we define this??? Tucker: ... you're brothers until its funny? and then you're his dad?

----------- Snippet 10: learning Danny: reading a book about learning arabic Damian, slamming his hand down on the book to get his attention: dijaal, *points to book* kitab Danny, frowning: what? Damian, tapping book: kitab Danny: ..ki..kitab? Kitab? Book? Damian: Boog...book. *points to table* tawila --------- Snippet 11: clone reveal Damian, later after he knows enough english and months of chilling out: i am a clone.... meant to kill my original Danny, internally: wow you don't say? Danny, out loud:..huh. okay. thanks for telling me, uh, same here. except that last part

---

Dijaal = imposter Damian is affectionately calling Danny an imposter because danny is a clone of bruce :)

#dpxdc #dpdc au #dp x dc #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny fenton is a clone #dp crossover #danny phantom au #dpxdc incorrect quotes format #i was telling my non-dpdc but dc friend about this au #and she pointed out the food for thought of danny being bruce waynes clone and just MMM yes #they talked about how they could see the two of them trying to find that line in their relationship #from brotherly or parental because technically damian is his biological son #by virtue of their existence and dna #they are ESSENTIALLY father and son #but danny is 16 and damian is 7 and neither of them are interested in behaving with that dynamic #and danny struggling to be an older brother and potentially being parental at times because of knowing who they are made of but the *being* #of their relationship #like yes thats ExACTLY why i originally wanted my og damian post #to include bruce clone danny #because of how FASCINATING that dynamic would be #danny doesnt wanna know who made damian because then he might have to get INVOLVED #and he has his own shit to worry about #clone^2

[peachesofteal]

That nurse au? Devoured it and it lives in my brain rent free. If Simon and Johnny notice the bruises on Nurse do they share looks? Maybe Johnny tries to gently ask about them? I loved this so much.

Anon is referencing this. The way nurse x ghoap has spread through my brain like a flesh eating bacteria is insane. And I can't actually answer this ask because I'm writing it as a fic but I'm happy to give you a little possible snippet/glimpse/ramble down below:

The tablet in your hand chimes, drawing your attention away from the vending machine and to it's far-too-bright-for-this-ungodly-hour screen, to where it displays a status change in red.

268: 38.5 degrees.

Fuck. You abandon your sub par dinner options for nearly sprinting to the room, slowing to a walk to take long, deep breaths before your knuckles are rapping on the glass. Get control of yourself. Simon is too perceptive. He will panic. It could be nothing.

You don't even bother acknowledging your thought process there, the truth that is starting to bleed from your heart, through your body like a disease. The reason why you check on them so often, the reason why you can't stop thinking about them, even when you're off shift. The reason why, when you go home in the morning to go to bed, you drift off thinking about Johnny's sleepy smile, or Simon's voice, humming in your ears.

"Hi." You whisper when you slip inside. He straightens a bit in the armchair, but you're happy to see he's using it as a recliner now, progress from last week when he wouldn't even let himself lean backwards, or fall asleep willingly.

His brow furrows above the black mask.

"Hey, everything alright?" Shit. You're not surprised, you were just in here, after all. Spending too much time sitting in the chair opposite him, next to Johnny, on your break before your patient fell asleep.

"Yeah, I ah... have to draw some blood." You really do not want to wake him up, or alarm Simon, but you also refuse to lie to either of them. You fire off a text to the attending on call, just to advise him of Johnny's temperature and the impending labs that he can expect, before sliding a drawer open as softly as possible and pulling out everything you'll need. You can feel his gaze burning a hole in your scrubs, his ever present scrutiny impossible to escape. Sometimes you think he might be reading your fucking mind.

"He just fell asleep." He protests, and you think, you imagine, that he's frowning behind the mask. You think you almost know what it looks like, strong mouth pulled downwards in consternation, wide jaw gnashed tight.

"I know, but he's running just a bit of a fever." He jolts, and you hold up a hand in caution. "It's not too high, so I'm not super worried, but we'll need to check his white cell count, just in case okay? And then we'll go from there."

"Post op fever is common." He repeats the words you told him last week, after Johnny's second surgery, the one where they went in for the pneumothorax complication, and you nod to reassure him.

"Right. So, just going to do a quick blood draw and get it downstairs so we can find out what's going on." Simon shifts uncomfortably, but nods. You squeeze Johnny's shoulder softly, before swabbing the spot on the inside of his elbow.

He blinks, eyes opening slowly, confused brow smoothing when he looks from his partner, over to you.

"There's our girl." He mumbles softly, and your face heats, eyes widening in surprise before you regulate your reaction. Simon coughs, loudly, and you shake your head with a nervous smile.

"Such a flirt, MacTavish." You tie him fast, fingers a little more clumsy than usual, off balance from hearing him say 'our girl', like you mean something to them. "I just need to get some blood and then I'll leave you in peace." He shrugs, but Simon grabs for his hand and squeezes it.

"Ah come on, Si." He slurs, but reaches to cup Simon's cheek over the mask, rubbing a thumb over the fabric.

"You're runnin’ a fever, Johnny."

"Ach. 's nothing." He brushes it off, but you watch how his eyes are slow to track Simon's movements. You casually glance at the monitor, noting his blood pressure.

"Could be." You assure him. "But can't be too sure, so we're going to check a few labs, alright?" He nods, sleepy, already falling back under, and you pull the needle, taping a small patch of gauze over the puncture in one fell swoop. “Alright. Let me run these down, and I’ll be back up to check on you in a bit.” You turn, stripping your gloves off into the trash.

“We’ll miss ye.” He whispers, and you roll your eyes playfully, even as your stomach clenches.

Simon’s eyes don’t leave you for a single second, not until the door is shut and you’re out of sight.

#nurse x ghoap #idk what we're calling this #peaches asks #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x soap #simon riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader

[sweeterhoni]

i hate it when my brain functions differently when i'm in class, also, a snippet of a wip that's based on this brainrot

non-idol au . childhood friend!jake x afab!reader . R18 MINORS DNI!

a/n: this is suggestive. this isn't like me but this.. phew i need to breathe before writing more

before reading more, this fic is mixed with a religious theme and i'm so sorry bc this might just be straight blasphemy 🙇‍♀️ .

jake never knew what changed, you stayed nearly the same so there wasn’t much to highlight on you. jake never paid attention to you, he grew up with you and maybe that was enough to justify his distance. but was it? or maybe that became his favorite excuse to use when people keep asking why the two of you weren’t stuck together.

but what made him come up with excuses? what made him distant? what changed? – these were all the questions that pondered his mind. jake doesn’t have any answers despite this ‘operation: stay away from y/n’ has been going on for months. he just knew he had to have his distance when he felt himself getting hard around you.

it wasn’t hard. thanking your faith and focus in your religion to an extent where he started to attend church services again, but you were there. you were always there, and maybe his quick glances to your direction were enough to satisfy the torture he’s been putting himself through. but did he really have to go out of his way to attend your services when sunday was his only free day?

jake was a star in your university. people drool over him, they devour him and he indulges in it. you once joked he almost acted too similar to an incubus who feeds off the sexual energy from people, and he laughed and rebutted with “maybe that’s why you never felt anything sexual? is it? because i’m a, quote on quote, incubus?”

and ever since that day, jake could never put you out of his mind. you were devouring him unknowingly.

﹉﹉﹉

it was a sunday.

jake suited up, wearing his white long sleeve polo shirt that perfectly hugged his broad shoulders. he tucked it in his grey slacks, defining the inverted triangle shape he hides under sportswear and his uniform. it always felt like a sin to show up to the church subtly flexing every woman’s dream but does he still have any shame? when his mind defines lust when you show up in your dress that reminds a nun. you were always picked to pray for any services, requiring you to wear the white dress and veil the ‘baby nuns’ wear.

seeing you in it, jake always wanted to start a religion. a religion where you praise him, and devote to him the same way you devote to christianity. it wasn’t like him at all to have these sudden urges that just revolve around you, his life was soccer and academics– but you were becoming a part of it if you won’t stop whatever this is.

he was an hour earlier, just in time to watch you pray.

he wanted to defile you right then and there when you kneeled, your eyes closed, and your head perfectly angled as if you were doing this for the entirety of your life. he struggle to sit properly when you show no struggles in kneeling upright with your head bowed, and with the way the veil only shows a bit of your well-kept hair, jake knew he had to keep himself from acting out the events playing in his head.

he wasn’t even praying, all he did was fantasize about you.

a half of an hour passed, and he watched when you rose with ease. jake had his eyes fixated on you, it mesmerized him when you didn’t wince from kneeling that long and oh did he want you kneeling before him. he ached to see you be obedient when it wasn’t for him.

he wanted to shrug off these thoughts, maybe the praises were getting to him, but maybe it’s just you when these same thoughts never occur towards anyone else. he sinned again. you were his childhood friend, both of you grew up following the same religion, you were too religious and it would physically hurt him if he continue to think of you in that light but it just felt right.

“jake?” thank god then for your calming voice who snapped him out of the trance. “yes?” he replied, masking the lust he now clearly feels for you, “are you alright?” he was. he was alright before all these thoughts come to him, now he wasn’t. he watched how your lips rested in a pout, waiting for his answer with furrowed brows that show worry “of course, why wouldn’t i be?”

jake realised how he might have looked when fixating on you, not an ounce of guilt in his body as he chased a high.

“your brows were furrowed, it looked as if they’ll be sewn together.” you spoke with worry laced in your voice, you watched as he drew in a sharp breath. you figured he was just worried for the captain tryouts next week, so you nodded in understanding “ah! nevermind, you might be too worried for next week’s tryouts, but i’ll cheer you on jakey!”

and there it is.

even if you never tainted dirt, you were sultry. the way you said his childhood nickname felt as if it was the last straw, he had to get out of there. he had to get away from you. so he shamelessly used it as an excuse to leave, leaving you a pat on the head– “you’re right, you were always so bright my dove! i have to go, there’s an unscheduled practice today, be a good girl. for me, okay?“ and oblivious to the second meaning, you nodded your head.

“i’ve always been a good girl, for you and for the church.”

that left him hanging. it was true that you were always good, you were the epitome of an angel. some even call you that when you turn your back, you were always good. you were too innocent.

and it drives him insane how you agree to everything he says. it drives him insane how easy you comply to him. jake just wanted you, and if he wanted– you would already be in his bed but it all felt wrong when he caught sight of the pastor the two of you grew up with.

“i’ll go then. i’ll see you on wednesday, and wear the jersey i gave you, alright? that can be your way of cheering me on.” of course it was just another excuse to drive people away from you. he wanted you to wear it as it acted like a silent agreement, albeit one-sided, that you were only his to devour.

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen #enhypen smut #jake x reader #jake sim #jake sim smut #jake smut

[puppy-steve]

steddie ☆ G ☆ wc: 682 ☆ cw: teen dads

a little snippet from my teen dads au: tiny hands, little feet

The bell on the counter dings. Steve tilts his head back with a sigh and gives Robin a sidelong look across the table.

"Nope," she says, flipping through the only magazine they have in the place. They can probably recite the whole issue from memory by now. "I got the last three people. Go work your Harrington charm so I can add another 'you suck' tally."

The bell dings again and Steve groans, kicking Robin's foot as he rounds the table and opens the door leading behind the counter.

The lobby is empty. Great, they're getting ding-dong-ditch'd now. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He rolls his eyes and is about to snatch the bell off the counter and hide it when a tiny hand reaches up and taps it again. Steve holds back a snort, because he knows that tiny hand.

He steps up to the counter and sure enough, there stands a toddler with wild chestnut curls pulled into little pigtails, wearing a pink My Little Pony t-shirt and bright blue shorts.

Steve glances around the lobby and doesn't see anybody else in sight, which means...

He puts on his best customer service voice and gives the girl a smile. "Ahoy there, little lady. How'd you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with with me?"

Of course, she doesn't completely understand any of that. She just blinks up at him and points at the pictures of ice cream.

"St'awb'y, p'ease."

Steve nods. "A wise choice, m'lady." He slides the cooler open and gives his scoop a twirl, making her giggle.

The door opens and Robin slowly peeks her head out, looking flabbergasted. "Who in the world are you talking to? Why are you talking like that?"

"Careful, Buckley," Steve nods towards the child. "There's a princess in our midst. Wouldn't want her to throw you in the dungeon for disrespect."

Robin looks at the tiny child who is watching Steve with rapt attention.

"I think she's more interested in the ice cream, actually."

Steve gasps as he puts a couple scoops into a small bowl. "Hearsay, Buckley. She'll have your head for that." He takes the bowl around the counter and kneels on one knee as if he's a knight, presenting it to her with a bowed head. "The finest strawberry ice cream in all the land, your highness."

She claps her hands and her shoes light up as she stomps her feet. "St'aw'by! T'ank, Da'y!"

Robin's eyes widen and her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. "Daddy?"

"Sailor!"

Eddie Munson comes sliding into the lobby, his shoes squeaking on the waxed floor. He catches himself before he face plants and gasps like he's ran here from the other side of the mall.

"Sailor, honey, you can't run off like that!" he says around gulps of air. "About gave me a heart attack."

Steve picks the child up and scrunches his nose. "I think it might be time to give those backpack leashes a try," he tells him. "She's getting too curious for her own good."

"Wayne said I did the same thing at her age. Said it used to drive my mama crazy, trying to keep track of me." Sailor's chin is sticky with ice cream and Eddie wipes some of it off with his thumb. "You're taking after your old man a little too much, bug."

Sailor holds out her spoon. "Da'y try?"

Eddie can only huff a laugh and shake his head fondly. "Thank you, baby." He leans forward to take a bite of the offered ice cream and then turns to Steve to give him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I swear I had a hold on her. She saw the Scoops sign and then took off before I could catch her."

Steve sighs. "It looks like we're gonna have a little Road Runner on our hands."

"She definitely takes after you in that department, sweetheart," Eddie grins.

A throat clearing interrupts them and they both look at where Robin has been silently watching the three of them.

"Someone care to fill me in on all of this?"

more snippets from this au

taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @tboygareth @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @sidekick-hero @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd

#cj talks #steve will always be silly for his kids in every universe #cj's wips #cj writes #tiny hands little feet #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie dads

[spacedace]

Bit from a new dpxdc fic rattling around in my head I'm calling the Meddling Kids AU.

This snippet is so far removed from the context of the larger fic that I can't even imagine what yall are gonna think it's even about, which means it's perfect to throw out as a writing prompt for anyone that's interested haha

---

Well.

Good news: Jon had something that very publicly proved he couldn't be Superboy.

Bad news: his proof came in the form of getting his nose broken in front of the entire school cafeteria.

Weird news: tiny, waifish Danielle Masters - of all people - was the one who managed to actually break his nose when he'd stepped in to try to pull her off of Trip Hemmings.

She wasn't Kryptonian. Not unless Trip and his cronies were also secretly Kryptonians this whole time. She'd fucked them all up almost single-handedly when they'd tried to pull their usual shit with Fredrick Kern and she stepped in. But they were the ones that had started the whole messy fight when Trip decided to sucker punch the petite girl hard enough that the loud, ugly crunch of her broken nose had been heard even over the noise of the cafeteria, shoving her back into the cafeteria table and sending Fredrick's food flying.

She'd gotten slammed a couple more times during the scuffle, but she had given far more than she'd gotten and by the time Jon and Damian and managed to make their way through the crowd of students that had rapidly swarmed the scene of the fight, Trip's two goons were laying on the ground, conscious but groaning in pain and decidedly taken out of the fight.

Jon had surged forward through the crush of the gathered students towards where Danielle and Trip were. The latter sprawled across the table with Danielle on top of him, bleeding and bruised and feral looking with her bared teeth and wild eyes as she wailed down punch after punch on Trip's face. The fight was well and truly over at that point, Danielle clearly the victor, and teachers were on their way. Without even thinking about it Jon had reached out and touched her arm, intending to pull her off the little shit she was rightly wailing on before she could get in even more trouble for being involved with a fight.

It hadn’t been the wisest course of action. Danielle had been so keyed up she hadn't even realized it was him or absorbed anything he'd said, and assuming it was someone looking to hurt her turned one of her swings onto him. He'd had the spit second thought of how he was going to avoid the hit without looking like he had powers when her fist had collided with his face at a speed he hadn’t expected and sent him sprawling to the ground. It wasn't until he felt something hot dripping down his face that he realized she'd actually broken his nose and the pain flooded in.

So.

Danielle Masters was strong enough to break his nose. And still hadn’t managed to hurt anyone else - including fragile, normal humans - past some bad bruised and busted noses. She'd likely hit him as hard as she had out of blind reaction and not true intention to do real harm.

That was a thing.

A weird thing with some big implications.

D had checked, and Danielle Masters wasn't registered as a meta. Which didn't mean she wasn't one or that there was even anything nefarious going on. The uber-rich elite tended to cover things like that up, fine with meta rights and metas running around so long as it wasn't one of their own.

But it was still something.

She was strong enough to break Jon's nose. The number of entities in the world able to do that wasn't a very long list. The fact that a random girl at his school was capable of that was...not necessarily anything to be worried about. But the thing was that Danielle Masters was already someone he and D had been keeping an eye on as being...a little bit beyond the normal kind of weird. And that wasn't even getting into her dad's shady business or the potential connection between her and the weird spike in suicides.

“Here,” He blinked, pulled out of his thoughts at once to find the girl taking up all of them had shifted in her chair over to him to hold out an actual handkerchief to him. “Sorry about…” She motioned with her other hand towards his bloody face, wincing a little as she did. “You didn’t deserve that.”

He took the offered piece of fabric - oddly formal and old fashioned for anyone, let alone a girl like Danielle Masters - as the peace offering it was and offered her an awkward smile. “It was my fault for coming at you from behind,” He said, trying not to be too amused by the fact that they both sounded muffled and ridiculous with their busted noses. “I should have known better after you got jumped like that.”

Danielle shrugged, shifting back into the uncomfortable chairs they’d been parked in outside the dean’s office. The teachers on site were going over the situation with him as they had seen it, and from what Jon could hear were reviewing the CCTV footage from the cafeteria cameras. Trip’s family wasn’t prestigious or wealthy enough for the faculty to put aside their ethics and take his side, so their honest thoughts about the bully getting what he deserved - however annoying it was that they were going to have to deal with it all - shared freely from the perceived privacy of the office. Elle would still get punished for going as far as she did, but at least it wouldn’t be as bad as it could be for her.

“Assholes will be assholes.” She said, toying with the tie of her uniform. She’d ripped it off just as the fight had started, in a brief moment between kicking Trip back into his goons and them recovering enough to jump at her again. She had wrapped it around the knuckles of her dominant hand in a fast loop, giving her a little more protection before she then drove her padded fist right into the gut of Jordan Stone. She had followed it up by grabbing Jordan’s own tie and using it to get enough leverage on him to send him flying into Erin Dorner.

It was the kind of quick-thinking adjustment that Jon associated with D. Removing a potential liability, making it an advantage, latching on to any and all weakness in the opposition and using it against them. He wasn’t an expert in hand-to-hand combat the way Damian was - he could hold his own and knew how to fight with his fists as well as his powers, but there was a big difference between his skill and D’s - but he knew enough to be able to tell that Danielle wasn’t formerly trained. She was fast and quick and clever, but everything she did spoke of scrabbling street fighting brawls and learning from painful experience.

Something else to add to the seemingly endless list of things that were weird about Danielle Masters.

Because why would the daughter of one of the richest men in the country know how to scrap like a street fighter? Most rich kids didn’t really know how to fight at all, or if they did it was self-defense lessons taught by the best martial artists in the world. Maybe it was because of her meta powers? A fear of it getting out if she was taught to fight and ended up destroying a training dummy right with a single hit? But then how did she know to fight at all?

He teased Damian for going all Bernard Dowd on him for the oversized corkboard with all the notes and pictures and red thread, but Jon got it. Every new insight into the enigma that was Danielle Masters only ever led to a thousand more questions. A mystery only ever made murkier the more was known, instead of less.

—

Danielle - Elle, she’d told him to call her, a little fierce, even as her eyes were sad - hadn’t been afraid during the fight with Trip and his cronies.

Or if she had, her heart rate had never indicated it. It had risen during the fight sure, but it had been the steady quickening of a body exercising. No jackrabbit quickness, just an even increase in rate to account for her quick movements and hard hits. She hadn’t even really broken a sweat. She’d been steady the entire time, from the first sucker punch she’d taken to the face to the last she’d thrown herself at Jon.

She was scared now.

Dr. Penelope Spektor stood over the girl, usual bright, smiling face set in an unreadable mask as she stared down at Elle. Beneath the lighting of the waiting room outside the Dean’s office in her smart red suit and her glasses pushed up atop her head to rest against her bright red hair she looked almost like the devil. Jon wasn’t sure why that thought came to him. The school counselor had only ever been kind to him during the few times they’d spoken about his scholarship at Gotham Academy and his options for colleges. Maybe it was the intensity of her green eyes, the way they almost seemed to glow as they bore into Elle.

Maybe it was the way that Elle’s heartbeat had ticked up and started hammering in her chest the moment Dr. Spektor’s sharp heels were heard clicking down the hall towards them. The way she shrunk into herself as the woman moved to stand before her, above her, not saying a word. The way Elle looked like she wanted to fling herself from the chair and run as far and fast away from the woman as she could.

“I didn’t start-“ Elle’s voice was reedy, unsteady with fear and anxiety.

“Silence.”

Jon felt cold.

Elle snapped her mouth shut with a painful, jarring clack. Fast enough and hard enough to be painful. He thought he could hear one of her back molars crack from the force. He definitely heard her heart rate pick up even faster in her chest. So quick he was afraid it might just give out on her entirely. He saw the faint tremble of her hands as she wrapped them around herself, fingers digging into the fabric of her blazer with a kind of desperate hold as she clung to her own arms.

“I’ve called to inform your father of this incident.” There was a slithering, dark disgust in the words. A viciousness lacing through her icy tone. “Three days suspension. You will be spending that time with me.”

Elle looked like she might be sick at that, face draining of all color a the judgement the counselor had just given. She didn’t try to speak, to respond, just gave a stiff nod and bowed her head. Her eyes were wide as she stared down at the floor, too much white exposed. Blood dripped down from her nose again, the thundering of her pulse breaking through the clotting and making bright red drip down her face.

Dr. Spektor’s gaze slid over to where Jon sat, frozen in place by the strange scene before him. In a blink her face smoothed out, back into the pleasant, welcoming smile she always wore whenever speaking to a student. “Oh my, Mr. Kent I had heard you got injured while trying to break that horrible ruckus up earlier.” She tisked lightly, and Elle flinched a little at the sound. “I’m so sorry about that, Danielle has a bad habit of getting into trouble and I hate to see that she’s gotten you involved in her mess this time.”

Jon, for reasons he couldn’t comprehend, felt oddly at ease at her words. As strange as the feeling of being frozen in place that had overtaken him as he watched the tense scene between the school counselor and Elle. A slow, honey-thick feeling of calm, laced through with understanding and acceptance.

“It’s okay.” He said, throat feeling tight around the words. It wasn’t alright, he wanted to get to his feet, to put himself between Elle and Spektor. Wanted to drag the girl away somewhere safe and try and make her feel better, try and figure out just what was going on and why she was so afraid of the red-headed woman.

It was alright, though. He could feel it, settling into his chest, relaxing his shoulders, soothing away the tense anxiety. It was a little odd, but he just didn’t have the context of it all probably. Nothing to worry about, nothing to think about.

Elle was still hunched over, shoulder’s tight, eyes now squeazed tight. Her grip on her arms like a vice, squeezing with enough force she had to be bruising beneath the layers of her school uniform. Her heart rate a roaring drum in her chest, heart slamming painfully against the cage of her ribs, afraid, terrified.

“The fight wasn’t her fault Dr. Spektor.” He said, the words feeling like burning tar against his tongue, even though he knew the truth of them. “Trip and the other two attacked her first when she was trying to get them to leave the person they were bullying alone. She was just defending herself.”

Dr. Spektor’s lips twitched, just a little. Her expression held on her normal warm smile but something curled at the edges of her smile, the corners of her bright green eyes. Dark and deep, sharp as shattered glass and viciously, sickeningly pleased. She pulled her glasses off her head and set them back in place on her nose and the glimpse of that hungry thing beneath was gone.

Never there at all. A trick of the light. Too much time seeing the worst of humanity as Superboy and mistakenly thinking he saw it in the pleasant, kind face of the school’s counselor. Nothing to worry about at all. It was fine. He felt fine about all of it.

Elle was crying now.

He felt sick.

“Well, that is good to know.” Dr. Spektor said, voice honey sweet and lulling. “But I would hate for Danielle to fall into those old, nasty habits of hers. Better to make sure she understands that violence is never the answer.” She stepped over to him, leaning over to settle concerned eyes upon him and a gentle hand on his shoulder, surprisingly cool even through the weight of his blazer and the layers beneath. “Again I am so sorry you got hurt, Mr. Kent. I do hope Danielle can make it up to you later. She could use a good influence like you in her life.”

The sick feeling in his gut grew worse, even as his body was flooded with a sense of blissful contentment and unquestioning understanding of the situation. The vague idea that had been bubbling in him since the start of the school year to reach out to the girl in question solidified into a determined certainty that he would do just that the first chance he got. A flame flourishing at the gentle encouragement of a fan.

Just behind the school counselor Elle was terrified out of her mind.

Elle was just a little upset that she got in trouble, she’d be fine.

Dr. Spektor was treating Elle with a barely contained cruelty, venomous and wrathful.

Dr. Spektor was treating Elle normally, disappointed that she resorted to violence.

It was all wrong.

It was all perfectly fine.

The counselor stood up straight, gave him one last pat on the shoulder and a smile before turning towards the door of the Dean’s office. Her smile slipped for just a moment, face back in that disdainful blankness as she plucked invisible lint from her suit jacket. Not even looking at Elle as she gave a short, “Go to the car. Wait there. No detours. No calls. Speak to no one.”

Elle lurched into motion, getting to her feet with a mechanical kind of stiffness. She didn’t run down the hall but her awkward, robotic gate was nearly at that speed as she almost threw herself down the hall towards the side entrance where the staff parking lot was.

Dr. Spektor’s smile returned. Professional. Polite. The person everyone in school knew they could reach out to and trust if there was anything wrong, if they needed help. Guiding the students with a gentle hand, bolstering the faculty with her bright positivity. She knocked on the door and entered upon invitation with her familiar cheer.

Something was deeply, truly wrong with everything going on here.

Everything was perfectly normal.

D found him ten minutes later, dry heaving in the boys’ bathroom.

He couldn’t remember why he was there.

Everything was fine.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc prompt #dpxdc #dani phantom #danielle phantom #jon kent #jon el kent #jonathan kent #damian wayne #penelope spectra #vlad plasmius #super serious chaos #eventual super serious chaos #but for now there's far too many mysterious going on #spectra is the absolute worse and i hate her and I made her powers even worse in this #poor elle #poor jon #poor spectra when damian gets his hands on her #curious what yall think is going on here #meddling kids au