#anyways he looks so polite. he looks like how my dog looks at me before throwing up on my pillow

[chestharrington]

will you do a gator blurb of him driving you home drunk (and handsy) from a party 🤭🤭

ANYTHING FOR YOU MY QUEEN 🥹 and I even gave u little wattpadcore fake text messages awwww. Anyways this is very short sorry pookie

Rating: M

Warnings: Language, some sexual situations but no smut

~~~~~

Sat on a barstool and drinking vodka sprites like they were water, you should’ve known better than to open your phone. Over the course of fifteen minutes, you’d managed to text Gator thirty-five times— a colorful assortment of gibberish and the rare coherent sentence. You decided to throw one final Hail Mary with clumsy, drunken thumbs.

Well, it wasn’t your most poignant message of all time, but it certainly got the point across. After all, you’d gotten your fair share of ‘you up?’ and ‘showering without me?’ texts from him. Within a minute, he finally responded to your onslaught of texts.

Well, it wasn’t a no. You hopped down from the barstool, wobbling slightly, and pushed through the patrons to squeeze into the women’s bathroom. After a tiny wait, you convinced yourself this was absolutely the best choice. You locked the handicap stall and pulled out your phone, trying your best to find a decent angle.

With a clumsy hand, you tugged down your tank top and snapped a few quick photos of your tits, which you sent him without a second thought.

You managed to finish one last vodka sprite at the bar before your phone buzzed in your pocket. A one word text from Gator.

You closed out your tab and stumbled towards the car outside, wearing a stupid, giddy smile at the sight of Gator glowering in the driver’s seat. He unlocked the passenger side door and you practically fell inside with a drunken giggle.

“Knew you’d come,” you said, leaning in to brush your lips along his jaw. “Wanted you so bad all night, baby.”

He sighed in annoyance and pushed you back into your seat firmly before you could fully climb into his lap. You kept your eyes on his as he reached over to buckle you into the seat. A soft gasp escaped you as his hands brushed across your hips, holding you still as he fumbled with the belt.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ mess, you know that? You smell like a liquor store.” You let your hands wander, teasing him through his cargos while he made sure you were buckled properly. He groaned at the feeling, then glared down at you. You giggled as he grabbed your hands and placed them back into your own lap. “Just stay still, alright? Jesus Christ.”

You gave an exaggerated pout and crossed your arms. “You didn’t like my pictures?” When he didn’t respond, you gave an exaggerated sigh. He paused at the stoplight and you tapped his shoulder very politely. “Is this better?”

You lifted your top, flashing him for the briefest moment before he yanked your top back down himself. His expression remained so serious that it made a flurry of giggles escape you.

“You’re such a good officer, Gator,” you cooed, running your hand along his muscled biceps then across his chest where his scratchy vest was. “So responsible and serious. Lemme thank you, baby.” You moved your hand back to his lap, letting your pretty manicured fingers dance along his thigh.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t even try.” He didn’t even bother glancing in your direction, so you moved your hands obediently back to your lap. The light turned green and he practically floored it. Outside, the lights of downtown streaked by like comets— an entire light display just for you. But all you could do was stare at how fucking handsome he looked.

“You’re gorgeous,” you said with a wistful sigh. “Does anyone ever tell you that?” When he shook your head, a frown played at your lips. “Well, they should. You’re so handsome, baby.”

He sighed and gave you a sidelong glance., the corner of his mouth turning up just slightly. “You’re real needy right now, huh?”

You nodded, trying your best to give him big puppy dog eyes. He patted your thigh and leaned over to kiss your forehead at the next stop sign, which made giddiness course through your very being.

He parked in front of your house, and opened the car door like a gentleman. You were stumbling as you walked beside him up the cobblestone walkway, which was annoying because you were trying your very best to look completely sober.

He got you into bed with as little resistance as possible, which wasn’t saying much. You kept trying to feel him up while he was helping you into pajamas, so he eventually gave up and only took off your shoes and jeans. Then was brushing your teeth, which was worst of all.

But the plush of your mattress and blankets was like a siren call once you got in— eyes fluttering sleepily the second your head hit the pillow.

“C’mere—“ you whined, grabbing at the air in his general direction.

He sighed. “I told ya, I’ve got work.”

“Skip,” you insisted, giving him your best pout until he relented. You were grinning like an idiot as he shirked off his clothes and climbed in beside you— your own personal space heater. “Thank you,” you hummed, resting your head against his chest.

“Yeah, whatever,” he sighed. He could act as indifferent as he wanted, but it didn’t change the secret smile he wore once your eyes fluttered shut. He kissed the crown of your head, and shot off a text that an emergency came up that he had to take care of.

It was only mostly a lie, but he’d deal with that in the morning.

#gator tillman x reader #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman #blurb

[gemharvest]

yuo know how people say toxoplasmosis rewires your brain to make you more fond of cats or whatever. do you think this image has that kind of effect on people. if i showed this to someone who didnt like reigen do you think theres a chance they would suddenly become enamored with him. its working on me and i already like his ass

#arataka.jpeg #reigen arataka #mp100 #shitpost #<- joking around disclaimer. do not take this post seriously disclaimer. i am tired and dumb disclaimer. #et cetera. ive had this post idea in my head for like two months now i need to shake it out lest i go insane #anyways he looks so polite. he looks like how my dog looks at me before throwing up on my pillow

[cherryredcheol]

"angel"

tldr: all the way mingyu uses the petname he calls you.

a/n: this is my first fic ever, please be kind.

coos: when he’s trying to get what he wants.

“angel” he looks at you from across the store. you turn your head and wish you hadn’t. As soon as you catch those eyes, you know its over for you. You don’t even know what he wants and you’re already prepared to do anything to give it to him. 

“wear these matching outfits with me?” he asks with the biggest grin on his face. you laugh, immediately nodding along to his idea, knowing how happy it would make him. 

“i can take cute pictures of us and set it as my wallpaper on my phone,” he rambles on, browsing the rack for your size in the unisex shirt he just had to have with you, “...been needing a new one.” 

groans: when you get up to leave. 

“annnnngeeeel” you hear from deep within the sheets. you thought he was asleep, that's why you pecked him so lightly on the cheek before pulling the covers off yourself. you did not expect his gruff voice to hit you so early in the morning. you actually were not expecting to hear it at all today since you had to be at work early. 

“stay a few more minutes. take a shorter shower, do less skincare, just stay in bed,” he begged. how could you say no to him? so you concede. tucking yourself back into the bed. he takes this moment to pull you in tight. 

“mmmm,” he hums. you feel the vibration in your back, where his warm chest was practically enmeshed in you. “sorry about your skin care in advance”

yells: when he needs your attention right this second. 

“angel!” he shouts when he looks up and you weren’t watching him like you promised you would be. The practice room was echoey so it was louder than he intended but it got your attention. You turned away from Seungcheol, brow raised, holding a finger up politely to pause the conversation you were engaged in. 

“you missed my move!” he pouted, stomping his feet very dramatically as he huffed across the room to you. you looked at him ready to apologize and ask him to show you again in a second when his hand wrapped around your wrist. 

“come on,” he said with a little determined frown, brows creasing. he leads you directly to the mirrored wall up front. “sit right here and watch me kill this. you’ll be so proud i finally got this down.” 

moans: when you’re behind him.

“angel” his eyes flutter shut as he feels your soft lips press behind his ear. your arms were wrapped around his waist just so and he could smell your perfume, making his head spin. 

“should we go home?” he felt you nod against his back and he smiled. he knew what this meant when you were needy like this. he knew his night was far from over and he was happy to leave this stuffy party anyway. his shiny new shoes pinching his toes in a way that was starting to become uncomfortable. 

“hey guys?” he said catching wonwoo and jun’s attention. “i think we’re going to head out” he turned slightly, showing the guys how you clung to his back, wrinkling the front of your emerald dress. eyes closed contently with a little smile on your face. “see you later.”

sings: when he gets home. 

“angeeeellllll” his voice carries across the apartment as he flings the door open, expecting you to be right there with a little smile on your face, waiting for him. what he saw instead was nothing. a dark apartment. upon further inspection, he saw a faint light coming from the living room. 

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered to himself, turning on the lamp next to the couch. he was secretly hoping to wake you up so he could spend time with you. it had been a long week away from you in Japan and he missed you. the night was still young, it was practically still dinner time. 

“well, well, well…” he said, hands on hips when you opened your eyes. he smiled when his plan worked. “wake up you lazy bones. it’s time to hang out with me” but when you turned on your puppy dog eyes and reached up for him, who was he to refuse a cuddle on the couch? he guessed you could hang out in the morning. 

#seventeen fluff #mingyu imagine #mingyu #svt #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenario #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

[judasgot-it]

Hold Me Tight (and Don't Forget Me)

Scenario: Dazai takes you out on a date the day he's arrested. Slight Warning for Jouno being an ass.

Hold Me Tight - BTS

1.3 k word count

Blue skies and perfect weather - the worst, because that meant that today would be the perfect day before Dazai would ruin it once again.

It was a strange feeling to have. It was too peaceful, like a flock of seagulls waiting to be chased.

There was nothing wrong. And that was what was wrong with it.

"Dazai. Did you do something?"

You knew it was impossible to ask Dazai these questions and get an honest answer - your ability didn't work on him, so it was only a force of habit to want to interrogate him.

In response, he only smiled, like a cat that was too high for the barking dog. It made your skin bristle every time, but today he was handsy - he smoothed down your sleeves, easing your nerves with a gentle touch.

"I didn't do anything that you need to worry about. We're supposed to be focused on us, remember?"

His grin was honest, almost charming. He sipped his coffee rather loudly to make his point, drinking as if to remind you with force that you were in a diner, not at the Armed Detective Agency.

"Well, yes. But I know you, and you're only hiding the inevitable. You can tell me Dazai, we are dating."

It was weak to pull a card like that with him, but it was always worth a shot anyway. As if dating would make a difference in how Dazai acted.

The man was a mystery, sitting in front of you in his casual attire - nicer because for once, he had washed them for this occasion. He looked put together as well, hair nicely done and his face looking as a man in his younger 20s should.

He typically looked a little disheveled, hidden behind his charisma but noticeable with anyone who cared for appearances. A good smile managed to hide a lot of things, and for once you didn't need to think about it.

In your mind, you knew that something was wrong from this. The last time he had taken you out like this, he had known he would almost die from an ability user, and it was his apology beforehand.

The strange sense of doom was disconcerting; but so was Dazai's cold skin. He was always bouncing so quickly between temperatures as if he were a broken heater - but being cold? On such a warm day?

"I know we are. Just enjoy yourself babe, can't you do that for me?"

His smile was warm, enough to reach his chestnut eyes - treated with a light varnish from the sunlight penetrating the windows. Whatever warmth his body did have, he must have given it to you through that smile, because now you felt just a little hot.

"I don't like you sometimes."

You averted from his gaze, still holding onto his hand despite this. Dazai didn't say anything, his fingers gently tracing patterns along the hair on your wrists.

"Your face says otherwise. Looks like you're loving my company."

He leaned in closer, careful of your plates, pulling your face to match his. It was easier to kiss him than to say you had lost.

But still, something was wrong.

Dazai kissed you as if he would walk out like this was his last dinner. It wasn't hungry and yet it wasn't polite - it was desperate and it felt like an apology for a crime he hadn't even committed yet.

Or maybe one he already had.

-

It was only the middle of the day when Dazai had decided that a good way to spend your time would be horse betting.

Gambling seemed like an odd place to have a date, but it hadn't been the worst one of his ideas. At least it was outside, and it made for good conversation - even as he insisted on staying as close to the crowd as possible.

Dazai had thrown around some big money - enough to make you worried he was going to actually kill himself tonight.

He was just...strange. As the races had gone on, he had become more and more nervous, fumbling with his pockets and becoming a sort of weird handsy with you - as if you wouldn't notice the strange clamminess his skin had become.

Cold and sweaty, a strange feeling on Dazai.

You were left stuck in deep thought as you stared at the pale white horse Dazai had bet on, a bold '9' staring right back at you.

"Excuse me"

A soft and polite voice had broken you out of your thoughts, forcing you to look away from the race - you had won, and a little bit of relief was felt knowing that Dazai was at least lucky enough to have not blown his last three paychecks on horse racing.

"Would either of you happen to know who won this race?"

His eyes were closed, while his smile seemed...off. Your ability was near constant in your mind, and you could feel how wrong this man was. He didn't really care which horse won that race.

"Number 9 won." In your silence, Dazai responded for you, smiling as if this were an idle conversation. He hadn't seemed to notice the scheming mask the man wore, like a fox ready to jump for the canary.

"So you won then, right? You seem quite pleased with yourself after all."

"Wow! How'd you know all of that?"

You tried to lean closer to Dazai, almost feeling how wrong the man was. It was almost like he knew something you didn't, and it was disturbing to you. His smile practically was still friendly, nothing wrong. But it felt almost as cutting as a knife.

"After I had lost my sight, I had gained new senses - I can hear your heart rates, smell your fear, and even feel your future in my back pocket."

Swiftly, the man had handcuffed himself to Dazai, revealing a pair of sharp canines behind his wicked smile.

"And I know that you, Osamu Dazai, are going to be arrested for 138 counts of conspiracy to murder, 312 counts of extortion, and 625 counts of assorted fraud. I could keep going, but I feel like your fiancé has heard more than enough."

Dazai turned to you, his face paler than the cumulonimbus clouds that towered the sky behind you. By his expression alone, you could tell he had no idea that this would happen.

"Wait, hold on-"

You held onto Dazai's arm desperately, reaching for the handcuffs that were beginning to tear him apart from you. This felt like a dream turning into a nightmare, and that you were running too slow.

"I'm a Hunting Dog. I know more than enough about you as well, and your ability should have told you that I'm not a liar like Mr. Dazai here."

Maybe that was why he felt so off. It was more than just the way he said horrible things - over 100 counts of murder, with complete and utter truth.

"Y/n."

Dazai looked back at you with a solem look. There were so many emotions in your head, that you could only focus on the words that had come out of his mouth.

"I love you. Don't forget that, okay?"

Abruptly, you felt him pry your fingers off of his jacket, and look back to the Hunting Dog who had arrested him.

"There's no chance of escaping you, is there?"

"Even if you're hiding in the crowd, I would just kill them. I can take liberties with human life. I can kill your darling too, if you don't start walking."

Numbly, you watched as Dazai left. As if it were a dream, you were stuck in place, unable to chase after him and tell him to stop and even explain how the hell he had gotten into this situation.

You hadn't even gotten the other man's name, not so you could curse him out for taking your love away. There wasn't even the chance to scream.

It was a horribly numb feeling, stuck there in that moment, watching as Dazai walked further and further away from you.

Sorry, had this idea for a while. I was gonna use this song for Jouno, then Nikolai, then GOJO but ended up being a depressing Dazai fic once again....sigh.

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x y/n #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n

[tange-my-rine]

guard dog || Tangerine × gn!reader

Summary: Lemon has been trying to get you to see it for years. His brother was into you, so much it physically hurt to watch. That's what he said anyway. You were skeptical, to say the least. The fact that everyone who had ever hurt you, or even just threatened to, was dead though, was indisputable.

TW: protective!Tangerine, jealous!Tangerine, violence, murder, cursing (it's Tangerine), all things bullet train.

[[A/N: y'all know I love a good pining story 🫣🫣🫣, enjoy :) ]]

You'd known the twins for about as long as you've been in the business. Your handler was the same, and for a mission, they just decided to pair the three of you up. It was some simple grab-and-go, you can hardly remember now actually, but the three of you mended so well that your place was practically cemented.

Don't get you wrong, Tangerine has resisted, hard, since the beginning but you could see the progress. Or well, you hoped it was progress.

Lemon seemed to think so, and that was good enough for you. Who knew him better than Lemon, after all?

That brings you to now, where you sat in a fancy sort of gala -dressed to the nines; there was a man, some wealthy guy, that was the hit. Tangerine had gone to roam the crowds to, well, find him. Lemon sat inconspicuously to your right in a suit, a nice gray number, with a drink in his hand, looked a little like champagne but you couldn't be certain.

"You think he's lost?" You questioned, smiling over your cup -eyes directed to the crowd in a sweeping motion. You lagged on every good blue suit in the mix, perhaps for someone in particular, but you'd never say that out loud.

"'Wouldn't admit it if he was," Lemon retorted with a chuckle.

"I could get lost in here," you remarked, tapping your fingers along the tablecloth, gaze slipping across the ceiling -it was all shiny with chandeliers and painted columns, "-I bet there's at least 16 rooms on this floor."

Lemon pursed his lips, "He's only supposed to be in one, though, ain't he? Minglin' and such."

"He could've slipped away," you hummed, messing with your sleeve.

"Guess so," Lemon echoed, eyes glazed over the bustle of the people.

You paused for a moment, before saying, "Why did we send him again? He's really not the sociable type to get the guy's guard down, yeah?"

"Easy," Lemon smiled, something twinkling in his eyes, "-he wouldn't let me go because of competitive reasons and he wouldn't let you go because he'd sooner fuckin' die than leave you alone."

"Lemon," you lowered your voice, "-I'm an assassin, I'm sure I could've found this guy myself. I'm not a baby."

"Not sayin' you are love," he spoke matter-of-factly, "-It's nothin' about your skill, it's all him."

You quirked your brow, taking a long sip, "All him?"

"Have you really not noticed?" Lemon questioned, now fully facing you, "-He's like your fuckin' guard dog."

Ah, this again.

"Lemon, we've talked about this-"

"Doesn't mean it ain't true," he tsked, "-I can read people you know that, especially my brother."

You did know that, but your brain just really couldn't wrap around the idea of Tangerine seeing you that way. Not that it wasn't desirable, god was it desirable- it just didn't make any sense. He didn't treat you any differently than his brother, except for small things. Like holding open the door, pulling out your chair, and listening to you talk thoughtfully (unlike with his brother who he'd directly told to 'shut the fuck up').

He was just polite.

And it's not like you didn't think him to be handsome. He was probably one of the most well-crafted people on the planet, all pressed suits and slick hair and blue eyes and strong arms-

"Think back for me," Lemon interrupted your train of thought, thankfully, "-last mission, how many people got their hands on you?"

A grab-and-go, some sort of drive, you think.

"Like how many I fought? I mostly knocked them out, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Lemon agreed, "-but, somehow, they all ended up dead. Not your doin', not my doin'."

"Well," you scoffed, "-you can't leave witnesses-"

"Mission before that," he continued, relentless, "-quick in and out, nobody but the target to die, yeah? But some bloke held your arm too tight, remember?"

He'd wanted to buy you a drink, and you said no. He insisted. By the time you'd gotten him off, Tangerine had neatly sauntered to your side. You'd always thought it was weird timing, actually.

"Yeah," you hummed, furrowing your brow, "-okay. He didn't die though."

"Yeah, he did, back alley when you were in the car," Lemon replied, taking a long sip of his drink -finishing it actually.

"What?!" You hissed, "-There was no need-"

"You're barkin' up the wrong tree, love-" he held up his hands in surrender, "-I had nothin' to do with it. Except well, baggin' 'im up, Tan wanted to meet you in the car. He's always givin' me the dirty work."

Before you could respond, and you very much wanted to, Tangerine leisurely waltzed up to the table. Slow and steady steps didn't draw attention. Although you're not sure that mattered because well, everyone is going to look at him -I mean, come on-

"Disappeared in a room with a woman," he spoke quickly, exhaling a big breath, and snatching your drink from your fingertips -promptly downing it.

"Hey-" you began but didn't get far.

"I'll buy ya another one, love," he spoke, sly and smooth -sitting down to your left, exasperated, "-Fuckin' needed it. All the guy droned about was kissing arse and fuckin' stocks."

"You spoke to him?" You tilted your head, curious -promptly ignoring the fluttering when he called you love.

"No," he nearly spit out, "-just heard 'im. Real fuckin' piece of work, I tell ya."

Lemon hummed, "Good thing we're 'ere to kill 'im then, yeah?"

"Yeah," Tangerine agreed before eyes flickering over the two of you, "-What have you been doin' then?"

"What do you think?" You laughed, "-Not much else we can do but sit."

"They haven't been flirtin'," Lemon smiled, teasing, "-if that's what you're askin'."

"Fuck you," Tangerine retorted, "-just thought I'd ask somethin' nice for once and you twist it, see? Can't be nice to you."

"Enough, you two," you exhaled, swatting at both of them -your hand brushed Tan's but you didn't focus on it for long, "-Guy's back out."

The man was tall, greying slightly by the ears and big full dark beard -seemed the type to be a beneficiary or whatever it was. His suit was one you recognized to be expensive, probably because of Tan now that you think about it, and he was swarmed by quite a few men -itching for conversation, advice, you assumed.

And then, his eyes, deep brown ones, slinked over the table, landing solely on you.

You smiled -the kind that made all the men happy, waving gently. Standing up, you patted the table and whispered to your partners.

"Looks like he has a weak spot," you spoke through your teeth, "-be back in ten. Don't bite each other's heads off, please!"

You were a people's person, and men were simple, it wouldn't be hard to get him into a private space and-

You were halted, something pulling on your wrist. Less pulling and more held in place, actually. Spinning on your toes, your eyes held on Tangerine's fingers pressed into your wrist -keeping you at the table.

"Tan!" you hissed out, trying to pull your hand away -it wasn't a hard grip, just enough to keep you unmoving, "-What the hell?"

He seemed to scramble for a second, eyes fluttering across your face, "You can't just go without a plan, you know 'at, right?"

"Tan," you seethed, voice low to keep unwanted ears out, "-the plan is simple, get him alone and kill him. Now, why don't you let me-"

"No," he reiterated, "-you can't just go on your own. He's got men by his side, 24/7, what are you supposed to do if-"

"Lemon," you hissed, trying to get him on your side.

"No," he spoke, passively, standing up, "-I'm not involved in this, you two sort it out. I'll take care of 'im, yeah?"

"Seriously?" You turned to him, merely watching as he disappeared into the crowd -there goes your backup.

You turned to him, something heavy in your eyes -disbelief, "Do you really think I can't do it, Tan?"

"Love," Tangerine began, standing up beside you -it was almost like you were holding hands, "-I didn't mean-"

"Yeah, right," you scoffed, shaking off his hand, "-I need some air."

That is what led you to push through the glass doors and back onto the patio, rain trickling down from the sky. You stayed under the ledge for a moment, before decidedly stepping into it; it brought you back to earth for a moment, anger and frustration slowly numbing to the patter against your skin.

You'd always liked the rain.

"Come out of the rain, love," he spoke, careful and quiet -gentle in a way you'd only seen once ever, "-you're gonna get a cold."

You ignored him, raindrops dusting off your eyelashes and making your clothes stick to your skin ever-so-slightly. It wasn't enough to give you a cold, you knew that.

"Please."

Now, that was new.

You turned to face him, eyes adjusting to the shadow of the ledge. He looked at you softly, like you held the entire world in your hands and he didn't want you to drop it; blue eyes dusting over your face for any signs of anything you assumed. Something in you faltered.

Wordlessly, you stepped back under the ledge.

As soon as you did, he shrugged off his coat jacket and put it on your shoulders -almost out of habit. Another thing to add to your list.

He spoke first, leaning against the wall right beside you, "I'm a fuckin' dick, aren't I?"

You laughed, just a little -looking at the ground, "Yeah, you are."

"Look, love," he started, slow -his hand brushed up against yours on the wall, "-I wasn't tryin' to say anythin' about you. I kno' you could kill 'im without even thinkin' about it. You're incredible-"

Something in you twinkled, cheeks dusting a pink -not that you'd let him see.

"I just-" he started, running his hands through his hair -you watched the motion with lazy eyes, curious, "-I'm fuckin' daft."

"You are," you answered with a lilt of a tease, before turning to him, seriously, "-but why did you freak out like that? I really just thought you didn't trust me-"

He spun to you then, catching your eyes with his -a breath shattered out of your lungs, his hands firmly on your arms to keep you in place, "I trust you with my life. I do."

You hummed, looking at him critically, "Then what, Tan? If you trust me and know I'm good, then what's the problem?"

"It's not-" he sighed, eyes leaving yours as he rubbed a hand down his face -turning away slightly, with one hand still just below your shoulder, "-Fuck, I never wanted to-"

"Tan," you echoed out, gently placing your fingers against his jaw -turning him to meet your eyes, "-you can tell me anything, you know that."

You were so close now, a breath away from him -blue eyes flicking across your features, a bit frantic. You could feel his breath fan across your face, as your hands fell back to your side. You didn't dare blink. It almost felt like-

Could Lemon be...?

Your brain was working against you, as you blurted out, "Are you my guard dog?"

Tangerine paused, eyebrows furrowing, all tension now dissipated, "What?"

"Shit, I didn't-" you stepped back, but his hand on your arm didn't let you roam far, "-Lemon keeps telling me you're like my guard dog. All protective and like constantly keeping your eye out, not letting me go anywhere without you-"

"Your guard dog?"

"Yeah, it's stupid, but-" you paused, looking back at him, curious, "-did you really kill that guy in Madrid?"

"The hit?" He questioned, something in him relaxing, "-no Lemon did, you don't remember? The fucker stabbed me in the leg-"

And then, he fell silent -something passing over his face in recognition.

"In my defense, you weren't supposed to know about 'at."

"Well, I do," you exhaled, expectedly, "-may I ask why?"

"Why what?" He asked, somewhat innocently.

"Tan," you stressed.

"Same reason I didn't let ya leave," he exhaled, simply, like you knew the reason. You thought you might, but you weren't taking any chances.

"Tan, how am I supposed to-"

"He could've said bodyguard," he spoke, suddenly, working himself up, "-Just had to compare me to a fuckin' animal, didn't he? He's lucky I-"

"Tangerine."

"Right, yeah," he interrupted his thought process, eyes swimming to yours, "-I can... I can explain."

You met his eyes, "Please do."

He paused for a moment, seeming to settle on what to say, "I am... I am your fuckin'... guard dog, as my brother so eloquently put it."

You opened your mouth to comment.

"Hear me out, will ya?" He spoke, softly, fingers brushing circles against your arm -you merely nodded, "-I'm protective over ya, beyond belief really, not sure how ya didn't figure that one out."

Your hands went to the edge of his coat, tightening it on your shoulders. It was a little chilly now actually.

"Not because you can't protect yourself," he clarified before his eyes settled on your face -gentle and soft, almost... admiring, "-but because I don't kno' what I'd do if I lost you."

"Is it not the same with Lemon?" You questioned, your breath hollow in your chest.

"It's-" he cleared his throat, almost awkward, "-very different."

"Different how?"

"Love," he sighed, a little exhausted, "-I..."

"Just be honest with me, Tan," you echoed, a mere whisper, "-that's all I want."

And then his eyes darted over your face, swimming like he was committing every bit to memory... like he could never get enough. Suddenly, something settled over you, watching as the words stopped on his tongue but his face said it all.

He didn't have to say it, you realized -watching him, you knew.

With a breath, you pushed forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your head into his shoulder. His whole body tensed for a moment like he hadn't expected it, before relaxing -hands coming to twist along your waist.

"You don't have to say it," you muttered into his shirt, all crisp and clean, "-I know."

He spoke quietly, you could feel the breath on your skin, "You know?"

"I know," you repeated.

"'At mean I can take ya to dinner?" He questioned, playful but you could hear the nerves -you knew him well.

You pulled back, fingertips twisting in the curls on the back of his neck -smiling brightly, "I'd love to."

He grinned, and it crinkled at his eyes -now looking at you a bit like he can't believe it, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smiled back.

"You had your fill, you two?" Lemon interrupted, suddenly making himself known, "-Figured out all your shit, then?"

Tangerine's face dropped turning his head but making no move to let you go -it made your head fuzzy, "Don't fuckin' start."

"I won't," he held up his hands, before grinning -mischievously, "-I will say though, you can thank me anytime. Ya know, since I played fuckin' cupid."

"One more word," Tangerine leveled, eyes glaring daggers, "-I'm fuckin' serious, mate-"

"Thank you, Lemon," you interrupted, turning out of his grip -one hand still on your waist, you doubted he'd let you fully out of his grip, not now. You didn't mind.

"See?" Lemon asked, "-'At so hard, brother? Always liked 'em better, really."

Tangerine paused, jaw tensing as he licked along his teeth, reluctant but his eyes kept darting to you -he softened, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Lemon grinned for a second before he fell rather serious, "-really though, we should leave. 'Give 'em another fifteen minutes to find 'im."

Tangerine pressed his lips together, not moving.

"Seriously," Lemon echoed, "-I know ya expect me to be jokin' but I'm not, I give 'em fifteen minutes."

"Tan," you pushed, eyes meeting his, "-later. We have forever, don't we?"

Something in him softened, eyes dashing across your face, he bit down a smile. Wouldn't dare let Lemon catch him, you assumed.

He seemed to anyway.

"Oh, you are whipped, bro," Lemon retorted with a laugh.

"Don't," Tangerine seethed, "-I'll pound your fuckin' face in, you know 'at? Not another word."

You rolled your eyes, slipping your hand into his. This was your life now, huh?

You flickered over Tangerine practically tackling his brother to the ground, verbally, but his hand still gently wrapped around yours -unaffected.

Maybe that's okay.

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine bullet train #bullet train #tangerine bt oneshot #tan's things #gn!reader #guard dog

[thethirdtriplet]

Head cannon for the Batkids:

So, we’re all aware that out of all Bruce’s kid Tim is the only one that’s ever gotten away with lying to him on more than one occasion.

And we know how smart he is, right, so if over the years he just keep doing it, lying to Bruce, about small things that wouldn’t really harm anyone. Just so he could observe and keep track of how much he can get a way with, for future reference of course.

But he gets so good at it that Bruce, Bat “the most paranoid person on the planet” man, immediately trusts his words, just like that.

Honestly why wouldn’t he? Tim hasn’t given him anything to doubt. He’d been carful over the years. 1-Hiding his tracks, 2-being overly truthful, 3-keeping his reputation as clean as possible.

1-He breaks something? Bruce wouldn’t know, cause he hid the evidence, bought a replica or straight up gaslights Bruce into thinking it never existed.

2-He stirs up trouble with the YJ, he’d tell Bruce with all honesty what happened, to the point where Bruce just expects the truth when Tim reports a mission to him, unbeknownst to him, that half of it is lies.

3-He keeps this up in his years as Robin to stay in his good graces, obviously, he’s polite, diligent, reliable and responsible, who wouldn’t trust a boy that’s so mature for his age?

Of course then his sibling find out about this certain skill of his and employ him to lie for them.

——————————

Dick, broke a chandelier he was not supposed to be swinging on? No problem; Timmy’s on it:

Dick: *tries giving Tim the puppy dog eyes that have virtually no effect on him*

Tim: *sends him an unimpressed look*

Tim: Bruce, just look at that ancient looking chandelier and tell me it wasn’t going to fall on someone’s head one day or the other?

Bruce: …

Tim: *sighs exasperatedly*

Tim: Do you have such little faith in your own son that you would believe he would endanger himself doing something that could potentially injure him, that you specifically told him not to do.

Tim: *sends a pointed look towards dick*

Dick: *sends him a sheepish smile*

Bruce: …

Bruce: *relents*

Bruce: I guess you’re right.., and the chandelier is quite old,..I’ll have to buy a replacement..

Bruce: *walks away*

Tim: You owe me, for this.

Dick: Yeah, I know, but thanks anyway Timmy!

——————————

Jason, scratched the Batmobile, he wasn’t permitted to drive? Bribe Tim; to deal with Bruce:

Jason: I’ll cook for you, anything you want, as payment.

Tim: *sighs*

Tim: Bruce, are you really sure you were careful with the Batmobile, last nigh? I seem to remember, you were in quite a rush to catch up to two-face, who was escaping in his getaway car.

Bruce: I checked on it last night, and don’t remember any scratches…

Tim: You were dead on your feet last night, barley even able to change out of your gear, write a full report, then head to bed, it shouldn’t be surprising that you missed a few scratches on the car.

Bruce: …

Bruce: I guess so… I’ll just have to keep a more attentive eye on it, next time…

Bruce: *walks away*

Tim: I’ll be expecting breakfast burritos, to appear on my plate, in the morning.

Jason: You can expect anything you want, and I’ll make it happen, after that save, nerd-bird.

——————————

Damian, snuck in an injured cat to take care of, before sending them off to the shelter? ‘Force’ Drake, to help:

Damian: While I usually wouldn’t resort to you for assistance, Drake, I must reluctantly admit, I am in need of it.

Tim: I’ll only agree, if you name the cat Drake.

Damian, who already named the long haired, black furred, blue eyed cat, after Tim: Very well.

Later on:

Bruce: *spots the new cat*

Bruce: Tim, is it just me or does Alfred the cat look.. different.

Tim: I’m not sure what you’re talking about, B.

Bruce: I could have sworn his eyes were yellow, not blue?..

Tim: Are you sure, though? Perhaps you’re mistaken. Maybe it’s a trick of the light? There’s a lot of reasons, as to why you could have mistaken the cat’s eye colour.

Bruce: …

Bruce: I guess… if you say so…

Later, later on:

Damian: Drake, Drake, the cat, has been adopted, as of late, by a loving and nurturing family (as loving and nurturing a family can be, in Gotham).

Tim: Cool.

——————————

Cassandra wants Bruce to attend her recital, but he’s busy? Ask Tim for help:

Bruce: Odd, I remember I had a few more cases to finish today…

Tim: Ohhh, those? Yeah, you gave them to me, not long ago.

Bruce: …I did?

Tim: Yeah! Just last night, when you told me you promised cass, you’d attend her recital, tonight. So I suggested, to handle those cases for you.

Bruce: …

Bruce: That does seem like something I’d do, thanks for reminding me, Tim, I’m glad I can count on you.

Tim: Of course, B.

Later on:

Cass, hugging Tim; to show her appreciation.

——————————

Duke, may or may not have skipped school after first period? Get Tim to help:

Tim: Bruce, is the school absolutely sure, he hadn’t attended his classes, I mean you can obviously see, from the security camera, that he entered the school gates this morning.

Bruce: The teachers stated that he didn’t answer when his name was called in class, and that they didn’t see him all day, on school grounds. None of the security cameras captured any sight of him, other than when he entered, through the gates.

Tim: Ohhh, I see, he must’ve been honing his bat-skills, you know sneaking around, undetected, in school, that must be why no one noticed him, not even the security cameras.

Bruce: …

Bruce: You’re right. I’ll be speaking to the principal about the staff’s inability to locate him, when he was obviously on school grounds.

Bruce: Then, I’ll talk to Duke about refraining from using his bat-skills in our civilian lives. Even if it’s for training purposes. Although I’ll have to commend him, for attending the whole day, undetected.

Later on:

Duke: Are you sure I can’t do something to repay you, I mean, you saved my hide, just now.

Tim: Well.. there is this new juice bar I’ve been wanting to check out, I could use the company.

Duke: No way! I heard about it too, hold on let my grab my phone, then we can head out.

#tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #jason todd #damian wayne #duke thomas #cassandra cain

[harlowtales]

Paparazzi knew puppy’s name and Y/N was left to her own devices 😤 🐶

18+ Only - Adult themes, Language

“Hey baby” Jack said calling early on FaceTime. It was early morning where he was on tour in New Zealand.

“You look so sexy and groggy.” You said admiring how gorgeous your husband always looks. He took off his bonnet and shook out his curls causing your heart to flutter.

“Stop looking at me like that Y/N that’s how we got Ella.” Jack said cautioning you. You had a little boy from a previous relationship and Jack accepted him fully as his own. “Where’s my little muffin and my boy?”

“Well Jax is at school and Ella is right here. She just finished nursing.” You said happily and showed Jack baby Ella half passing out, and smiling at the breast.

“Funny how our happy place is the same.” Jack said wistfully happy to get a peak at your boob.

“You’re so silly!” You giggled. “I miss you so much”

“I miss you guys like crazy but some people don’t want to pull their kids out of school to go on a world tour.” Jack said with an eye roll and still feeling a way about you making that decision.

“Stability Jackman. It’s all about stability.” You said taking a stretch. “I better get moving. I’m meeting Azura for a walk.”

Just then Lil puppy Lou Lou came bounding up and licked you in the face. Jack was thrilled to see her. She woke up Ella drifting off but she was happy anyway. Ella was always happy unless she was tired and then she’d fuss and rub her head of chestnut curls. She rarely fully cried and was almost sleeping through the night.

“Aight my baby tell Jax I love him and don’t worry about his math test ok. I’ll call y’all later. Your husband said. He made a naughty gesture just before he signed off.

“Jackman! I swear!” You yelled to a blank screen as he vanished. “Daddy looks too good Imma have to be careful before I have 10 y’all” you said to Ella who looked like she was gearing up to go out for a walk.

You took a quick shower and slipped into your favourite hoodie of Jack’s, some yoga pants, and your one of many pairs of New Balances. Today it was Carolina blue 550s because you were missing your man bad. You slipped Ella’s wiggly chubby legs into a New Balance jumper and got the leash on Lou Lou.

“Hey girl!!” You said excitedly to Urban’s girlfriend Azura. Little man is getting big!” You said ruffling their son Liam’s hair.

“Yes he is girl and getting like his daddy wanting to take pictures of everything. We got him a toy camera and he carries it around his neck everywhere like Urb.” Azura said looking down lovingly at 4 year old Liam.

Liam wandered a bit away as you chatted with Azura. Suddenly you heard him talking a few feet away to a lady who was asking questions about his toy.

“Hey there little guy I like your camera” She said with a smile and had a cute dog with her that Liam petted. Azura was watching and everything seemed fine. Liam loved dogs and nothing seemed wrong. It was a beautiful sunny day and lots of people were out walking with dogs.

“Liam be gentle with the puppy ok?” Azura cautioned as he politely asked to pick it up and the owner agreed.

“It’s fine.” The lady said “Hey, you’re Jack Harlow’s fiancée….Y/N isn’t it? And Baby Ella so adorable with puppy Lou Lou. Nice to see you enjoying this beautiful day.”

Both you and Azura froze with a bad feeling. They had been following you and poor little Liam walked right into the trap because the lady had a dog and seemed nice.

“Liam hunny put the doggy down we have to go.” Azura said sternly and cautiously.

“I’m not answering any of your questions.” You said firmly to the paparazzi and turned to leave.

“Well I bet the world will like to see how rude one of the hottest stars’s fiancee is.” They said taunting you.

Azura made a sudden move to jump on the lady and caused a scene. Urban wasn’t under as much scrutiny as Jack so him and his family didn’t have to go through people following them. Jack had trained you how to be in public and around the media. You leaped in front of Azura to prevent her doing anything foolish.

“Well one of you has some sense! I would sue you!” The lady spat back.

“….and we would sue yo ass right back bitch!” Azura clapped back

While the back and forth with the sneaky paparazzi and Azura was going on you had discreetly emergency dialled Andy an “sos” message. It was something Jack had set up for your safety. Andy’s secretary sent police to your location. You stalled the lady until they got there. Let me tell you something.” You said calmly to the lady maintaining your composure “Tell all your slimy fellow bottom feeders that make a living off of this that me and my family, including my husband are not taking any shit and WE will be suing YOU.”

Everyone in town knew who you were but only a small circle knew the puppy’s name. Someone must have told someone else and that someone else was paid off. A small crowd had gathered which made it difficult for the lady to take off running. Police were carefully approaching so as not to provoke her to flee. You saw them coming. You and Azura kept her talking with Azura continuing to intimidate her which she was much better at than you.

“Listen bitch, you don’t get to talk to people’s kids like that with your rented dog and pretend you’re friendly. That’s like attempted kidnapping.” Azura said angrily holding onto Liam who was scared.”

“Get over yourself lady. Nobody even knows who you are.” The paparazzi argued with Azura.

“They know me on twitch bitch!” Azura shot back as she was one of the biggest gamers.

Police were behind her without her knowing and heard the whole conversation.

“Look behind you.” You said smugly to her. She turned and realized she was under arrest.

“I didn’t try to kidnap no kid!!!” The lady paparazzi yelled. “I’m just doing my job!! Let go of me!” She said as police cuffed her and walked her away.

The call you were dreading coming in started lighting up your screen with your husband’s picture. You hesitated to answer. “Y/N dafuq is going on? Are y’all ok?” He said right away with Urban right beside him. “They knew pup’s name?”

“Azura? Liam? Daddy’s right here!” Urban shouted concerned and on the verge of tears.

“Bro call your chick on her phone.” Jack said to him annoyed.

“Jack we are fine see? Wave to daddy Ella, wave pups.” You said as cheerfully as possible and Azura waved too as Urban called her.

“Jack it’s all good we’re fine.” You said calmly not wanting him to know how you were really feeling.

“Nice try Y/N. I invented that whole never show people how you’re screaming inside type shit.” Jack said catching you in the act of trying to appear unbothered. I need Ella where is she?” He asked trying to see into the stroller. “Y/N why are you not holding her close right now with wackos on the loose and why are y’all still out?? Go back home please, and call when you get in.” Said Jack cooing with Ella and being strict with you. “Now Y/N”.

“Ok ok we’re headed back in.” You said irritated your one day out in a while turned into this.

“Listen I’ll have one of boys pick y’all up and take you to my parents. My mom is losing her mind right now. Ella and Lou Lou can play in the back yard.” Jack said in full dad mode. “Go pick up Jax first ok? You need to tell him before he finds out and make sure he’s not scared.”

All you wanted to do was go for a walk. Being Mrs. Harlow was not going to be easy. You didn’t like how firm Jack was with you and felt like he thought you weren’t being responsible enough. You hated when he got like this. “Oh and I love you too.” You said sarcastically. “Bye Jack.”

“Wait..I’m..I’m sorry baby. If you were hurt, if Ella…I can’t…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bark at you. I just…” He paused and was holding back tears. “I love you ok?” He finally finished looking away and trying to keep it together.

“Jack I’m sorry. I snapped at you.” You apologized. You knew he loved you.

“Please get little man, take Azura and Liam home, and sleep at my parents house tonight. Please Y/N.” Jack begged. Seeing him soften up made you feel warm inside.

“Ok baby whatever you need for peace of mind but I’m fine. Really.” You said.

“Yeah she not a little bitch like you!” Urban said getting off the phone with Azura and his son.

“Will you two get off my phone!” You giggled.

@itsyagirljaz @okaaay-mice @ride4harlow

#jack harlow #fanfic #romance #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow fanfic #dramatic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x reader #Spotify

[babydin]

Sex (With My Ex) 

Wrong place at the wrong time might've cost Javier his relationship with you, but he's as smooth as he is handsome and it isn't long until you fall back into old habits. He's a drug and you're addicted. - Javier Pena x f!reader - 18+, minors DNI! - Song inspo: Sex (With My Ex) - FLETCHER - References to cheating, alcohol, fingering, dirty talk, cursing, vaginal doggy style, light choking, biting, references to bruises - 1865 words -Comments/likes appreciated - A/N: There is Spanish in this and I am not a native Spanish speaker, it is something I am learning so please forgive me if my grammar or anything is incorrect! I'm still making my way through Narcos so I'm sorry if I don't have his voice 🥺 Also I figured out how to post this without splitting it or linking it yay me! 

I just had sex with my ex in a New York apartment.

“Do you want to come in?”   It’s been almost a month since you caught Javier with another woman’s tongue down his throat, it didn’t surprise you and you almost felt like you should’ve seen it coming. He had been spending more time on his case than he had with you, more time with his informants than he had at home, of course it was inevitable that she was getting to see him at his best and his worst, get take out with him, kiss him goodnight, suck his dick when he got praise from the boss. He told you that it was just a kiss, and it was just the one time but he came home to you and slipped into bed and turned his back to you most nights and it was that that made it hard for you to believe him.   You don’t know why you said yes, maybe it was those big dumb Bambi eyes he was giving you, or the way he smelled of lager and cigarettes, but you step into Javier’s apartment and give him a cold look as you brush past him and stares down at the ground like he knows he deserves it. You have a box of things he’d left at your apartment, and you drop it carelessly on the couch. It’s mostly clothes, a few tapes, a mug he bought you from a vacation to Cape Town last year. It had a crudely drawn pair of tits on it, you never did understand his reason for buying it for you but every time you drank from it you remembered spending an entire afternoon getting fucked by him under a mango tree. You both got sunburn. Javier comes to you with a glass of something over ice. It looks and smells like tequila, you don’t want it but you take it to be polite. “You look nice.” “What do you want?” You knew you looked nice. You had purposefully worn a skirt that showed off as much as your legs as you could get away with without getting a public indecency charge on you, and a shirt that accentuated the curves of your torso in a way that wasn’t so obviously trying to, but did anyway. Your hair was tied back, exposing your neck because Javi was a biter. “Babygirl, let me explain. Will you let me?” He looks pathetic; it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. He’s full of apology, he’s full of regret, his eyes are wet, and maybe he’s terrified of losing you. You shoot the tequila in one gulp and set the crystal tumbler on the side table then take off your jacket and lean back against the back of the couch and raise your eyebrows, indicating to him to go on.  “I swear to you, it was one kiss. Once. She came onto me–” You scoff. “I know. I know that’s such a bullshit excuse but it’s the truth. Her mouth had been on mine for half a second before you showed up. I would never break your heart like that, mi vida.” He moves closer to you, “Come on.” You could’ve melted into him right there, his soft sultry tones and those puppy dog eyes, the smell of tobacco smoke burning in your nose, the shot of tequila burning in your veins. “No, Javi. You can’t just – You can’t just sweet talk me in Spanish and expect me to just forgive you. You really fucking hurt me, you pig.” Javier pouted,  “Soy un cerdo. Un cerdo podrido. Un cerdo muy apenado y podrido.” He reaches up and touches your cheek with his thumb, “Lo siento mucho.” It turned out he could just sweet talk you in Spanish and you would forgive him. The second that apology left his lips you grabbed the collar of his shirt in both your hands and pulled him into a heated kiss, surprised at how much you had missed the taste of stale cigarettes and beer. He pushed into you and forced you to sit on the edge of the couch, your legs wrapped around him and his jeans were so tight you could feel the outline of his cock against you, he wasn’t hard but he would be soon. That feeling alone was enough to get a pool of arousal forming in your panties. Your hips rut against him, desperate for some friction at your core as pressure builds. You haven’t had anyone inside you since Javier, you aren’t sure if anyone else can compare.   He feels your pleading movements and slips his hand between the two of you, it finds a home up your skirt and into your panties, the warm slick welcome he gets makes him moan into your mouth. You pull away slightly to unbutton his shirt, “¿Se besó como yo?” you ask, with the little Spanish he has taught you, you hope it’s intelligible. He spares you the struggle of having to translate, although hearing you speak in Spanish leaves his knees weak, and answers you in breathless English, thick fingers massaging your sex, “Gatita, nobody kisses like you.” You moan desperately and try to buck against his hand, needing more of him, all of him. You pull his shirt out of his jeans and make quick work of unbuckling those. Your trembling fingers are clumsy on the fastenings, but you can feel the ghost of his length as stiff as a board and pushing awkwardly against the already tight denim. “You’re so wet, kitten. You miss me?” “Fuck me.” You’re not above begging him. He doesn’t even have to ask you to, it comes so easily; the way he gets you so riled up so quickly, skilled fingers stroking your clit with ease as you coat them with your arousal, his softly toned chest heaving as he struggled to keep his breathing at a steady pace, of course you had missed him. You needed him. Nobody in the world had ever fucked you as good as Javier Peña.  “Please, Javi.” you get his jeans open and pull them down just enough to reach inside and pull out his thick cock, hard and twitching in your hand. He doesn’t give you any time to pleasure him though, he rips you off the couch and his hand pulls your panties down in one swift move, so fast you barely have time to register what happened, but as your underwear drops to your ankles you step out of it so you can spread your legs as wide as he needs them. Javi turns you around and pushes you back over the couch, his knee pushes between your thighs to nudge your knees apart and he guides his cock between your soaked labia, coating himself in your arousal, and you moan as you feel yourself around him. You suddenly wonder how it would feel to ride him like that, his stiff cock pressed against his stomach under your weight as you rub your clit on his shaft until cum oozes out of him. Your thoughts are disturbed when Javier presses his tip inside you, your sex is aching for him, already pulsating around him, welcoming him in, trying to pull him deeper as he stretches you with his girth. He doesn’t ease in tonight, he fucks his way in, each thrust has him entering you deeper until you have all of him, his hands on your hips pulling you into him and you know you’re going to bruise from the brute force of his pelvis smacking into yours but you will wear those bruises proudly. His fist twists in your ponytail and he pulls you up off the couch a little, leaning down to meet you. That was another good reason to wear your hair up, you thought. Built arms wrap around you, the one hand finding your clit again to rub rapid circles over it as the other holds your throat. You moan loudly without a care for any of the adjacent apartments. Javier’s teeth find your neck, just behind your ear, they sink in and they suck hard and he claims you as his own. You hear him grunting, feel the heat from his breath and the sweat from his brow, and it drives you insane. “Javi—” you gasp desperately, “Javi, ba–baby I’m—” You don’t need to finish your sentence, and he knew exactly what you were going to say. He fucked you harder, so hard it made your teeth rattle, his fingers launching a relentless attack on your clit, as if he was trying to start a goddamn fire down there. You couldn’t hold onto your orgasm anymore at this rate, and you mistakenly turned your head and looked at him, his face all twisted with concentration, tan skin flushed with a fire burning within him, glistening with sweat, hair sticking to his forehead. Each forward thrust of his hips forced a moan from you until you came hard. Both of your hands wrapped around his to stop him from rubbing you any more, and your thighs clamped together as the muscles of your sex ebbed and flowed around his cock, you moaned from deep within your throat and could not believe how sensitive you were. Despite your reaction, Javier did not stop pounding into you, fucking you through your orgasm and when you were coming down he took both your hips in his hands and continued, pulling you into him as he fucked you. You had barely time to recover from your first orgasm and you felt a second brewing already, your knees were weak and you gripped onto the couch for stability.   Javier’s teeth sank into your shoulder and his hand once again found your throat. “You got me so fuckin’ pussydrunk, kitten.” he purred into your ear, his breath heavy as he struggled to catch it between his harsh thrusts. Your eyes roll back into your head and you reach back to grab at his hair desperately, pushing back against him as your second orgasm washes over you so quickly. It’s so intense that your mouth falls open but no sound comes out, the walls of your core clamp down on Javier and claim him and it doesn’t take him long before his calculated thrusts become messy, then few and far between, and then completely still as he spills his orgasm deep inside you. His voice went up an octave as he released his thankful moans into your neck. The feeling of him filling you up made you find your voice, a strangled gasp filling the air as you tugged on his hair and forced him closer into your neck. Javier’s grip loosened on your body, his touch turned suddenly so tender but still he held you close, feeling your body trembling. “Missed you.” he whispered against the shell of your ear. You smile lethargically and try to steady your racing heart that seems to beat only his name Javier. Javier. “You’re amazing Javi.” You tell him. “Stay. Please?” You think for a second and then nod; how could you possibly say no? Nobody in the world is ever going to love you like Javier Peña.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #javier pena fluff #javier pena one shot #javier pena fanfiction #( javier pena: babydin )

[backscratches]

'Hey, Sweetheart' part 1

The Sinclair brothers x F!child!reader (platonic)

Warnings: Mentions of death, yelling, plans of killing, Slashers, obsession

|next part|

That morning Bo had been woken up by his younger brother, Lester. It had been a call to him about the tourists he saw heading down the road to a campside. One car, couple of people, an easy job.

Bo and Vincent hadn't had tourists in the town in a awhile so the preparations weren't hard. Later that day, at the night exactly. Bo went and blew their tires. He made sure that Lester was ready to escort the couple to the town the next day.

The next day Bo was fixing a car in his garage when a couple walked up to him. They looked like a normal married couple, nothing more to him anyway. But one thing caught his eye. The woman was carrying a baby on her back.

"Hey folks what can I do for yall?" Bo asked trying to be polite. The man told him that they needed couple of tires for their car down the road and that they were in a hurry.

Bo couldn't care less about their plans to see the socker game in the next state or anything else about them. So he directed the woman with her baby up to see the famous Trudy's House Of Wax while he and the husband looked at some tires.

He didn't know what was he hoping to be done with the babe but there was no plans of keeping it either. There had been children passing through the town before but evedently there wasn't any kid wax figures.

After Bo had killed the man with a hit to the head he dragged the body downstairs to the basement of the garage and left to go up to the museum.

Now he knew what he wanted. He wanted Vincent to take care of the problem, that being the baby tourist, so he didn't have to worry about it.

But as he soon found out, Vincent wasn't just as attracted to the idea of getting rid of the little specimen. After he had killed the woman Vincent took the crying baby to his basement.

And that was what Bo had walked in on. Sweaty Vincent holding a crying baby girl in the middle of his work space.

"What the hell are you doing with that thing?" Bo asked loudly bewildered. Vincent only turned for a moment to look at him and then turned immediately back to the now fussing baby in his dry hands.

"Don't ignore me freak what the fuck are you doing with it?" Bo shouted at his twin brother or rather to his back.

"Be Quiet" Vincent whispered in his rough voice. He was observing the baby, holding her Infront of his face but after speaking to Bo he quickly moved the babe to his chest.

Holding the baby in his arms, Vincent began to slowly swing her in hopes of her falling asleep.

"The hell are you planning?" Bo asked angerly but alot quieter now.

The babygirl soon fell into a soft sleep in Vincent's hold.

There was a moment of silence, a moment of Vincent quietly cuddling to the babe, a moment of Bo trying to figure his brother out.

"I want her"

The few words that Vincent could muster with his broken face were enough for to Bo to shutdown.

He didn't want this, he wasn't ready for this and Ambrose sure wasn't a place for this.

Only if he knew how much his brother desperately wanted his own family. But his disformated face had quickly put a brick wall Infront of that dream. That hole he wished so badly to fill, that couldn't be treated even with his lovely good girl dog, Jonesy or a hundred wax figures across the town.

This beautiful baby was the most incredible thing he had ever witness even, his mothers world known wax figures couldn't bare fitness to the feeling this babe brought to him.

And nobody was going to take that away from him. Not even his twin brother.

this is my first fanfic I've ever written so yeah tell me your opinion

I will continue this series for at least a couple of parts

Please like

English isn't my first language tell me of any mistakes

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #doctor victor sinclair #trudy sinclair #victor sinclair #angst fanfiction #child!reader x dad #child!reader #child reader #father figure #adopted reader #orphan #slashers #slasher #slashers x reader #angst fic #Fluff #house of wax 2005 #house of wax

[dycefic]

The Strange Case Of The Amateur Detective

At some point, surely someone must notice the pattern... right? Note: Beginning slightly edited for clarity.

##

It took a while, but I’ve convinced Maggie to tell me when she goes out of town. I’ll feel better, I say, if I know for sure where she is when a body makes the news.

Which is true, of course. The sheer frequency with which that little lunatic does it keeps me awake at nights. But it also enables me to take certain precautions.

Like this one.

“Hello, Branford County Police Station, Constable Ford speaking.”

“Hello, Constable Ford, this is Detective Inspector Winsbury. I’m going to need to speak to whoever is in charge there about a possible murder.”

As usual, there was some back and forth at that point, but eventually I got through to an Inspector. “What do you mean, a possible murder?!” he asked, irritated.

“Just what I said. Tell me, Inspector, have you ever had dealings with an amateur detective? The real thing, I mean. The genuine Carrion Crow.”

His tone went from hostile to guarded. “I’ve… heard some things. Never met one.”

“You’re about to. Mine’s visiting Branford, ostensibly to see an old school friend, and I wouldn’t bet you the price of a beer that she’s not going to show up to report a murder within a few days.”

“You can’t possibly - “

“Her count’s at fourteen, to my certain knowledge.”

“And you’re sure she’s not just a very clever serial killer?”

They usually ask that. It’s understandable, if a bit annoying. “Not only have I been physically with her at the time three of the murders were committed, two were committed before she was born. That’d be pretty damned clever, don’t you think?”

“Oh, hell.”

“Yes. If you’ve got any old missing persons cases, or unsolved murders, get the files out and refresh your memory. I’d go back at least fifty years, if I were you. Focus on anything mysterious or that got covered up.”

“She’s likely to find a fifty-year-old corpse?!”

“I was standing right there when she found a hundred-and-nine year old set of remains in the walls of an old church she was helping to renovate, less than five minutes into the renovations.”

He let out a heartfelt groan. “Oh no.”

“It’s not so bad,” I said encouragingly. “Maggie’s better than a cadaver dog for finding remains, although even she doesn’t know how she does it, and even better at putting together evidence. She’s got a knack for seeing patterns where nobody else does. Whatever case she turns up, she’ll help you solve it within… oh, probably a few days, a week at most.”

“Really?” The Inspector sounded like he was wavering between skepticism and hope. “I’ve heard stories about Carrion Crows and their closure rate, but I can’t say I ever believed them.”

“Believe them. The longest it’s ever taken her was a month, and that was because she spent two weeks in hospital in the middle of it, and there was a delay on some of the evidence.” I leaned back in my chair, putting my feet up on my desk. “She’s pretty cooperative, as a rule. Not one of those ones who wants to beat the police - she’ll work with you if you let her. If you don’t, she’ll solve it anyway and make you look like a real chump, so let her. Stay on her, though, because she’s got a bit of an impulse control problem when she’s on a scent.”

“She’s likely to run into danger?”

“Mmm, no, not often - she’s just turned fifty, she’s slowing down a bit - but keeping her from touching the evidence can be a problem. She knows not to, but sometimes in the heat of the moment she forgets.”

“Ah. Yes, I see.”

“If you’ve got any strapping young lads or lasses who show some promise, assign one to her. She’s usually pretty nice to anyone under thirty if they make a mistake, but she gets snippy at someone she thinks is old enough to know better. They’ll learn a lot.”

“And she won’t ditch them?”

“Almost never if they’re polite, especially if you ask her to keep an eye on them. Just make sure they don’t argue with her too much, or scoff at her deductions, or she will absolutely ditch them and they will never know how she did it. Even I don’t know, and we’ve been working together for years.”

“I see.” He sighed, and the faint rasping was probably a hand rubbing over his chin. “A real Carrion Crow. Does she know… why?”

“What made her Death’s favourite girl? No. They usually don’t. I know there’s always stories about the murder of a loved one setting them on the path, but that’s actually pretty rare.” I’d done a lot of research, after I realized what Maggie was. “Most Carrion Crows have no idea why they start finding bodies. There’s no consistent trigger for it.”

“No kind of pattern at all?”

“Well, no, I didn’t say that. There’s no consistency about trigger events, but Carrion Crows themselves do tend to conform to a certain type. They’re usually very detail-oriented, and good at analyzing patterns. They’re always curious. If presented with half a story, they can’t resist finding the other half. They’re usually self-employed, or retired on a moderate income, or in a job that allows them a lot of snooping time, like a reporter or researcher.”

“That makes sense,” he said slowly. “The… gift, or whatever it is, comes to people who have the time and ability to use it.”

“Almost invariably.” I examined the scuffed toe of one of my boots. “And they care about people. They’re compassionate. I’ve never encountered or heard of a real Carrion Crow who was selfish.”

“Carrion Crows are always good people?” Now he just sounded confused.

“That depends on your definition of good. Criminals have been Crows in the past. One of the earliest confirmed cases of a Carrion Crow was a young pickpocket in London in the 1820s. But they’re people who care about other people. It’s one of the reasons they find out so much more than we do - people under pressure respond to kindness and compassion. It makes them want to confide.”

“Ahhhh.” He sounded enlightened. “That I understand. I have a sergeant like that. Got a face like a gargoyle, but everyone loves him because he’s just… kind, to everyone. People tell him all sorts of things.”

“Maybe don’t pair him up with Maggie, or they might achieve some sort of critical mass. A tea-party could spontaneously form around them.” I laughed at that mental image. “Anyway, if a tiny little middle-aged lady with big brown eyes and a horrible cardigan shows up and tells you there’s been a murder, take her seriously.”

“Will do. Thanks for the warning.”

I left my name and number, in case they needed more help, then hung up.

Nobody knows what causes a person to become a Carrion Crow. They’re not common, and you can spend a whole career in law enforcement without meeting one. But sometimes, for reasons nobody’s ever been able to explain, a hitherto perfectly ordinary person turns into a magnet for murder. It’s as if Death itself just taps them on the shoulder and says ‘you’. As if Death itself wants murders to be solved, the lost dead found, the unknown dead named, and their killers brought to justice.

Who knows? Maybe it does. All I know is, they need a close eye kept on them. A lot of Crows wind up murdered themselves, by someone desperate not to be caught. That’s why I call ahead every time Maggie leaves town. Why I’ll even follow her, if I can’t get the local police to listen to me.

Maggie cares about people, living and dead. And I care about Maggie. Anyone trying to kill her is going to have to get past me.

#original fiction #short story #surely in a universe in which this can happen #it doesn't only happen once #and sooner or later #people will notice

[luvyurself]

from a cat into a dog

IM SORRY IF THE ENDING SUCKS AUGHHHH

part two of my last story here

c/w: she/her pronouns, implied child experimenting/employee experimenting ig, bigger bodies initiative snatches five kids and two adults (not clickbait), rushed ending

I tired my best to included the kids before they got turned into the smiling critters but AUGHHH

________

everyday was the same routine: wake up at six in the morning, freshen up, put on her work uniform, stick a breakfast sandwich in her mouth, kiss her mom goodbye, make her way to work, and get into the parking lot of playtime co. at around 6:45.

she wishes the playcare was more easily accessible, going from the toy train to the cart-ride while listening to the same automated introduction to playcare was starting to become irritating.

she basically had that whole thing memorized by now.

she sits in the trolly seat, looking out the tinted windows to the vast emptiness of the underground around them. why would they built this whole thing underground anyway? she even heard one employee share the same thought as her, she wonders if these kids even know of the outside world anyways.

these past few weeks have been the same, except a lot more children seemed to get adopted more. which is weird because she and the other employees around her never gotten informed when each kid would be picked up.

what’s even more weirder was that the kids never talked about getting adopted either. and these kids could not keep anything a secret.

even when she had to keep up with the rules of not interacting with the children, they just seemed to tell her and the other caretakers nearly everything that happened in their secluded lifestyle.

timothy was one of them. a hyper kid, always seemed to be getting some bumps or bruises (she started keeping a package of bandages after the third time he scrapped his knee), and never knew how to keep a secret.

he would run to of her, stop suddenly and give his one missing tooth smile, and point to some random kid saying, “they have a crush on that kid!” and run off with some other kids chasing after him, yelling incoherent nonsense about how he’s a ‘tattletale’ or something like that.

it was funny to watch, she would give a small smile as she watched the boys play fight, the girls act out some fairytale adventure, or some of the more reclusive kids either draw or play with toys to themselves.

timothy played with this girl, layla, who was just as hyperactive as he was. she was one of the rougher girls, but she loved secretly playing dress up with a few of her dolls she had in her shared room.

she remembered the little freckled girl pointing at her when she told her that ‘tippity top secret’, her cheeks puffed out and saying she better not tell anyone about her ‘soft side’.

kids were funny in many ways.

she remembered timothy sulking a bit when layla was adopted, pouting and sitting on the fake grass.

they hung out almost everyday, it was pretty sad to see him so bummed out over losing his best friend. she managed to sneakily talk to him about it, giving him words of comfort on how he’ll probably see her real soon.

that slightly made him perk up, especially when she slipped a small candy to him and put a finger to her mouth in a shushing motion. he giggled and gave his little grin, “maybe when I get adopted, me and layla can play all day long again!”

she hoped that was the case, as three days later, timothy was gone from the playcare.

she can’t help but feel a jab in her heart when the kids she talks to leave to get adopted. they were all so sweet and fun to watch and talk too.

especially two little girls who took decided they wanted to sit where she was watching the kids play.

delilah was this shy girl who spent most of her time drawing with markers, glitter, crayons and colored pencils. she would sit in the same spot theo sat before he left, silently drawing or politely asking for more colors.

the next girl was sophie, and that kid was a hugger. she would come to her everyday, her braids having different colorful clips then before, and give her leg a big hug.

she would babble on and on about how her school day was, seemingly never ending as the kid always had something to talk about. she would pick at the jewelry on the caretakers hands, asking where she had got it from and if she could get her one like that.

sophie would also talk to delilah too, and would join her on drawing whatever their little hearts desired.

the day delilah ran to her with pure excitement, was the same day she was destined to leave the playcare.

she was the only one that told the playcare employee that she was getting adopted. she excitedly talked the whole time she was there, explaining on how lovely the couple sounded when she heard of them. that was probably the most she ever heard her talk.

after delilah left, sophie hung around her a lot more, becoming more clingy when she had to leave.

she had to always reassure her that she was going to come back the next day. even when the kid latched onto her leg like a koala, she couldn’t fight back the smile on her lips.

sophie would always make her pinky swear she was going to come back. children and their ways of reassurance was always so cute.

she would lock pinkies with her, shaking them and giving the same repeated promise. sophie would look at her for a second, before smiling and hugging her tightly, saying how she can’t wait to see her the next day.

was this becoming a pattern?

each kid she interacted with was gone in the same couple of weeks. she was teased a bit by her other employees that she was cursed, but she jabbed back with how they were all in better homes anyway.

she remembers the last one, she never interacted with her as much as the other kids, but the girl was always holding some type of snack in her hands.

little percilla was always eating something, an apple, pb & j, she would always have some type of food on her face.

each of those kids had their own distinct personalities, and each made her heart ache even more when she never sees them in the playcare.

she gives a small sigh, the underground outside the windows no longer fascinating as it was the first three times.

the five minute way there felt like forever, the carts top speed seemed like five miles, so she decided to check her little phone for any new messages.

a few texts from her friends, her mom asking what should they eat for dinner, and exactly none from jean since two weeks ago.

she didn’t know why it hurt when jean stopped messaging her. maybe that new promotion took up all of his time? she didn’t see much of sean either, so she guessed that could be the case.

she didn’t want to bombard him with messages either, so she hadn’t text back since the last text he sent her.

she closed the phone and puts it in her pocket once he heard the end of the automatic announcement that played in the cart, the ride coming to a full stop.

she gets up and stretched her body, stepping out into the playcare as she makes her way to the consolers office to check in. the playcare was empty, except for a few employees here and there. the kids must be asleep still.

she pushes a strand of hair back, fixing any wrinkles in her clothes and pushes forth, hopefully to get some work done before she has to be out to watch the-

“Hello there!” that scream definitely didn’t come from her, that was definitely someone else.

she spun around to see who decided on scaring the ever living life out of her, but she was met with twelve feet of-what is that?

she stumbled back, nearly losing her footing and quickly regaining it, hands gripping her chest to calm herself as she looked up at the face.

the orange dog bent down slightly, a friendly smile on his face, “woah there, friend, I didn’t mean to knock you off your feet,” he spoke, the young women pushing her hair out of her face and sputtering out, “dog…..dogday?” she whispered, blinking in confusion.

she could see out of the corner of her eye his tail wagging, “yeah! that’s me! it’s nice to meet you….?” he drags out the sentence, waiting for her to finish with her name.

she stays silent with a confused look on her face before stuttering out her name.

he repeats it with joy, grabbing her hand and shaking it with excitement, “oh it’s so nice to meet you! I’ve just about said hi to every employee here and I’ve gotta say, you look amazing on this fine day-“ she let the dog ramble on while continuing to shake her hand, still staring at him in amazement.

the main question ringing in her mind: ‘how?’

and the other one: ‘why?’

she wasn’t unaware of elliot ludwigs determined goal to make the best toys, but even then….this seemed out of the realm of possibility for anyone to achieve.

the giant hand that shook hers felt soft, plush, and almost humanly warm. he even spoke so much like a person, making her think this was some guy in a suit.

but why was he so tall? he stands taller then everyone in this place! and the tail wagging behind him just made it so….realistic.

after about a full two minutes of handshaking and rambling, dogday finally let’s go of her hand (which her whole arm is now numb at that point) and waved a hand in front of her face.

“hello? you still in there, friend?” he asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

she blinked once, before clearing her throat, “uh…..barely.” she spoke, rubbing her arm as she backs away, “I…..gotta clock in.”

the hound tilts his head, before walking with her, “I’ll tag along, I’m not technically supposed to be out here anyway,” he waved his hand around nonchalantly, “but I wanted to say hi to everyone before the kids wake up.” he gave his cartoony smile.

she shook her head, giving him an awkward grin, “oh no, it’s fine, you can do-“

a large, purple tail wrapped around her legs, going softly around before she was face to legs with another 12 foot animal.

catnap, she remembered the name, looked down at her with a silent stare, tilting his head to look at her.

he pressed his face near hers, giving it a sniff before pulling away, and turning towards the orange dog.

“catnap! I’ve seen you met my new friend!” he exclaimed, tail seemingly wagging faster. the purple cat stayed silent for a moment, before nudging his head in a different direction.

a playful groan came from dogday, “come on, I was just trying to walk my friend to the office to get checked in!” he pressed his big hand to his chest, playfully puffing or out, “as the leader, it’s my duty to greet and help anyone I come across.”

catnap just tilts his head, still not saying anything as his tail moves to press him towards the direction he came from.

she watched as he had a one way conversation with the cat, giving them an awkward laugh as she waved her hand, “it’s fine, really, you guys should go, don’t…..want to get in trouble do you?”

they both turned towards her, both in silence before dogday nods, “only if you say so, friend” he smiles and waved at her, “I’ll see you in a bit, then!” he turned to walk away, his tail still wagging happily behind him.

catnap lingered on for a moment, staring at her silently.

she smiled and waved at him, “I’ll see you in a bit too, catnap.”

she turned to walk towards the counselors office, glancing at the time and noticing the kids will be awake in ten minutes. well, the paper work was going to have to wait then.

watching as she walked into the office, catnap stared at the spot she was at for a moment longer.

he then stretched his back, and turned around were his orange friend walked to wait for the kids to wake up.

#dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime #catnap poppy playtime #dogday #catnap #poppy playtime chapter 3 #x reader #x female reader #ppt x reader

[gingerjolover]

Untitled Angst Fic - Part 1

Naomi Mcpherson (MUNA) x reader (soft!gf coded)

pls give me a title

read the preface here!

Synposis: Naomi is too busy working on the album to listen to thjeir gf and she's had enough :(

G's notes: come get y'alls juice!!! (also im sure naomi is a great partner this is RPF don't come for meeeee)

Wc: ????

Warnings: RPF, angst, fighting, mean!naomi, negligent!naomi, producer!naomi, leaving?, no fundamental physical descriptors, reader is soft!gf coded so she/her pronouns/afab?

It's been 6 hours since you left the house. LA traffic doing wonders for you, listening to angry music, twirling the engagement ring on your left hand anxiously followed by a quick vent sesh with the mom-to-be (and bless her since she's got so much more to worry about besides your relationship). Despite the time away, parking in the driveway puts a frown on your face, not sure what you'll face when you get inside.

As soon as you walk in, it's almost like you never left. Naomi sits on their laptop, albeit in a different place than when you left this morning, the doors to their office wide open. There's soft music playing from the speakers, their torso covered in a shirt and despite their comment about not needing to be dressed in their house to work, some dickies pants cover their legs.

"C'mere...hi, I missed you, hm?" you say sweetly to your dog and cat, both animals clearly starved for attention and affection.

Naomi perks up a little, watching you squat down to greet your fur-children, a small smile on their face gets wiped off when they remembered how pissy you were when you left, and how long were you gone anyway.

"Missed you too," Naomi mumbles sarcastically, as if greeting your pets meant negating them. Their fingers move quickly over the keys, eyes never leaving the screen as they begin to talk.

"...Sooo, are we gonna talk about it? Or are we just going to pretend that whatever happened this morning didn't happen?" Naomi asks, eyes fixated on the work in front of them.

There's something so deeply offensive the way that Naomi delivers the question, not even being able to see their eyes feels like they asked it because they should, not because they wanted to. All you can do is roll your eyes, sighing softly as you put your bag down on the dining room table, ignoring Naomi's question as you walk into the kitchen.

Naomi's eyes quickly flit to the edge of their laptop, seeing you walk away. They mimic you, rolling their eyes, sighing deeply as they look back to their screen. "Guess we're pretending it never happened, got it," they mumble sarcastically to themselves. "I can be petty too, I'm just gonna mind my own business then, it's immature to give me the silent treatment so I'll just let you do your thing," they mumble venomously, their words send a chill up your spine, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

You sniffle softly, wondering if the flames moving up the walls are even present in Naomi's mind. The energy in the house has been off for weeks, your anxiety and Naomi's attitude taking turns twisting the muscles in your chest until the house feels like its on fire and you're inhaling straight smoke.

You wipe your eyes, slipping on walking shoes before grabbing the leash. Your sweet chunk of a dog sits politely in front of you, wagging his nubby tail as he sees the leash in your hands. "Let's get you outside, yeah? Hm? Wanna go on a walk with mama?" you whisper softly, rubbing his ears when he sits so good for you while you attach the leash.

Naomi hears the click of the leash to the collar and stops typing, looking up at you. "Where are you going?" they ask, emphasizing their annoyance, ignoring the redness in your eyes.

"On a walk? Since you couldn't be bothered to get off the computer," you mutter back in a snarky tone, grabbing the poop bags and your water bottle.

"He went out twice today, I'm not- whatever," Naomi scoffs, turning back to their laptop.

"Might as well take the cat too," Naomi mutters, like it was a stroke of genius.

It takes everything in you not to shut the laptop on their hands and yell "fuck off". But you bite your tongue, wiping your eyes again and open the door, getting the dog outside and slamming the door.

"Well that was dramatic," Naomi mumbles, their eyes flicking over to the front door after it slams, feeling a little bad that you slammed the door. They allow themselves to feel annoyed again when they remember that you implied that they didn't take care of your dog all day.

The time moves quickly, within half an hour, worry starts to creep up Naomi's neck. It's going to get dark soon and you don't live in a busy or unsafe neighborhood but you're taking longer than you normally would alone.

"Where are you?" Naomi texts, checking your location, finding it unable to load.

15 minutes later you walk into the house, having to sit on the curb half a mile away just to cry, wondering if this is a prolonged ending to your relationship.

Naomi can tell you've been crying, that same worry crawling back up their neck as they look at your glassy eyes, cheeks flushed.

"Sit Bruno...good boy," you say softly, taking the leash off of his collar, hanging it up in the hallway before moving to the kitchen to fill his water bowl.

Bruno's paws tap across the tile floor, Naomi smiling softly as they type on the computer. "Hey," they call out, position unchanged. "Did you get lost?" they ask, feigning ignorance.

"No, we went on a walk, I said that when we left," you huff, toeing off your shoes.

"Okay yeah but you took twice as long as you normally do," Naomi says, finally looking up at you with a slight frown, waiting for an explanation.

"Okay? Sue me Naomi, I don't know what you want me to say, we went on a longer walk," you explain exasperated, throwing your arms up.

"You know what, fine, don't tell me," they say, looking back towards the laptop, typing away again.

There's a beat of silence, your eyes widen at their quick dismissal.

"Is what you're doing really more important than me?" you ask suddenly, eyes staring wide at Naomi, flooding with hurt.

Naomi looks up, slightly annoyed at the question. "No?" they say, voice sounding resigned. They sigh loudly, "Fine, you can have my attention," they say looking up. "Now, where have you been?" they ask, eyes stern.

"God, you're... forget it Naomi," you say, tone going from livid to defeated in 5 words. You shake your head, walking up the stairs, heading to the shower.

Naomi just shakes their head, rolling their eyes at the dramatics of it all. But as they sit there, the clock ticking, Bruno's collar jingling as he scratches, the scratching the cat is doing on the cat tree, and the faint water running - Naomi sighs again, a shame creeping up their neck at their own stubbornness.

When Naomi saves their work and finally makes it upstairs, they linger near the ensuite door, heart cracking at the sounds of your sobs hidden between a stream of hot water.

"Baby," the say quietly, knocking on the door lightly.

The crying stops immediately, almost like you were trying to get your voice back to normal.

"What?" you ask, and it comes out harsh. Honestly, could've come down harsher if your voice wasn't thick with emotion.

"I'm- I'm sorry, I've been a total... dick today," Naomi says, tone slightly defeated and aware. "Can I come in?" they ask. And the question hangs, like a rancid herb, drying between the two of you. And Naomi is met with sternness.

"No."

"Can I at least talk to you?" Naomi asks, temple resting against the door. They feel ashamed for how they've acted, replaying the interactions with you over and over in their mind.

"You can't wait til I'm done?" you ask, because the absolute audacity of Naomi to interrupt a shower cry.

"I want to talk about it now, when it's still fresh," they speak through the door. "I'm not gonna wait in the hallway for you to finish showering," they say with annoyance and disdain. The rational part of Naomi that realizes you can't have a productive talk while you're in the shower and that cornering you like this was a mistake can't come to the phone right now because they don't even exist.

"Well considering I'm always waiting on you to have conversations, I think you can wait until i rinse the conditioner out of my hair," you spit out in a snarky tone.

"What? I'm not always making you wait on me," Naomi says, incredulously at such an implication.

"Oh my god, can you let me shower?" you practically exclaim, exasperated beyond belief.

"Fine, jeez," Naomi mutters, rolling their eyes and moving to the edge of the bed, taking out their phone. It's only a few minutes later that Katie, Jo, and some of the MUNA team get on a joint call, Naomi pacing back and forth in the bedroom while listening and giving updates on the production.

When you open the bathroom door wrapped in a towel, its disappointing but not at all surprising to hear Naomi on the phone, passionately giving updates about the production they've been working on. At this point you're done, what else can you do? People could say you're being difficult but what's so difficult about asking to be left alone in the shower and then expecting your partner to be ready to speak when you get out?

You move quickly towards the walk in closet, Naomi frowning when they see the lack of fire in your eyes, nervous about what it means that you're no longer angry. Their voice falters, trying to finish their thought concisely as they watch your shoulders sag, walking towards the dresser.

"So I should have it done- um..." Naomi's words trail off, watching you slide sweatpants up your legs, picking out one of your own oversized shirts and not theirs. "Look, can I... call you guys back? Or I'll send an email, it'll be easier.... yeah thanks, talk soon," Naomi speaks, hanging up the phone while their eyes bore into your back.

Naomi leans against the doorway of the closet, staring at your wet hair dripping on the carpet as they push their phone into a pocket.

"Are you going to talk to me?" Naomi asks, they ask, watching you towel dry your hair.

"Do you have the time to talk?" you respond, tone almost sassy, flickered with annoyance.

Naomi frowns, rolling their eyes softly. "I just got off my phone call so we could talk," they say like it was a huge sacrifice. "...are you implying I'm always busy?" they ask offended.

"Oh yeah, how noble of you," you scoff. "I'm not implying it, I'm saying it out loud. We barely talk since your eyes are glued to your computer or phone, locked away in your office all day and night."

There's that same shame, realizing that they haven't been as present lately, trying to downplay it in their mind. "Babe, I- you know I can't do everything at once... we have a deadline... there's work I have to get done..." they trail off, realizing the poor excuse for prioritization over your feelings but trying to justify it for fear of being in the wrong.

"Then go get you work done Naomi," you mumble, pushing past them to go into the bedroom.

Your dismissal drives Naomi crazy, shaking their head at your ability to walk away when a conversation is clearly needed.

"Since you don't want to talk it out, fine, be that way," Naomi mutters angrily, walking out of the bedroom and downstairs to their office. Grabbing their laptop and beckoning the dog inside, they slam the french doors to their office shut.

The slam of the doors is followed by your head dropping, hands on the nightstand as you try and breathe through your diaphragm, willing any air to get to your lungs, the tightness in your chest unbearable.

It's like functioning on autopilot. A quick text to Kelli, the pull of your duffle from the closet, a moment of contemplation over your ring dish if the rock on you finger is worth dragging out, and the shoving of clothes and toiletries into the bag, the final zip like a punch in the mouth.

The silence is deafening, staring at the bag at your feet. Texts from Kelli pull you out of the haze, slipping on socks before quietly padding down the stairs.

It almost feels normal. Hair still wet from the shower, opening the pantry to fill the animal's bowls, refreshing their water. Except you don't start cooking, Naomi doesn't pinch your ass and wrap their arms around your shoulders, cold fingers don't rub the warm skin of your hips, chapped lips don't cover the skin behind your ear in kisses.

Instead you grab the bag, slipping on shoes, taking your keys off the hook and look to the french doors of Naomi's office. Their shoulders are tense, hunched over in their chair. To the bottom left, your cat and dog sit, almost like statues. You wonder if they know what's happening... if they can sense the end before you can.

Slamming the door feels final, but you know its a signal. Its the begging for attention you're too prideful to do yourself. Your ring weighs you down as you walk to the car, eyes unfocused.

G's notes: there will be a part 2 and 3 pls do not fear

#naomi mcpherson x reader #muna x reader #muna angst #naomi mcpherson angst #sooooo #how yall doin

[reallyromealone]

Hellooo! Can I request a Bonten with a teenage son reader where they forget his birthday but he doesn't say anything because he knows his dads are busy. Like how they react when they realize and maybe how they make it up to him. Anyway have a good day or night! I really love your work and totally don't stalk your blog everyday👀

Of course! Let's goooo

And I realize more and more how many of you wait for me to post stuff

Well I'm taking a break from writing kinktober so I got maximum capacity focus on fluff

Warning: male reader, angst to fluff, teenage reader

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

(Name) felt his heart sink to his stomach as he read the text from Kakucho 'wont be home tonight, we will see you in the morning' With a 'love you' sent after.

Today was his birthday.

His 16th birthday.

For the past two months they had been hyping it up for him, getting his hopes up.

Only to forget.

He should have expected it though.

They are really busy.

They don't have time to stop and throw a stupid party for him, he didn't even want a party though.

He just wanted a day with them.

They told him how they were gonna do fun stuff he enjoyed but (name) supposed that wasn't happening anytime soon.

"Better do my homework, not like I have plans anyways"

(Name) didn't tell his dad's they forgot, not wanting to seem whiny or anything but after a week he just decided to move on despite the pain in his chest.

"Have you noticed (name) seems a little down lately?" Mochi asked Takeomi who grunted in agreement "he's acting like someone killed his dog or something" takeomi commented as their teenage son did his homework quietly, bags under his eyes.

"What day is it again?" Ran asked as he checked the calendar on the first of two fridges, the men barely have been home to check the family plans.

"Oh it's (date)" Kakucho said as he came in to grab a bottle of water, the others watching ran freeze as he looked at a circled date on the calendar "...shit"

"What?" The others looked at the calendar and held an expression of guilt before glancing at their kid.

Oh god.

They forgot his birthday.

And they hyped it up so much!

Just to crush that hope.

(Name) never asked for much, even as a baby he only really wanted quality time and got them to hang out with him sometimes.

God they felt like monsters.

No wonder (name) was so down!

"We have to make it up to him!"

"Get the others, meet in the home meeting room" and with that one half of the dad squad went and collected the rest, glancing at the teenager.

"Why didn't he say anything?" Koko asked as they sat at the table and Sanzu scoffed at him "seriously? Somehow we managed to make the most polite kid in the world, he would never call us out on forgetting"

"How the fuck do we make this up to him? We literally crushed his spirit!"

"We will figure something out!"

The men walked into the living room where (name) sat, still doing his homework and God did they feel like assholes.

"Oi! Come with us" Rindō said seriously and (name) looked confused as he walked to his dad's, handed his shoes "what's going on?" (Name) asked softly as he was brought to the expensive car "don't worry about it kiddo" Kakucho said patting his back as they drove off.

(Name) was confused, though never scared.

He never had a reason to be scared of his dad's.

Even when Sanzu was in a drug crash.

They drove through Tokyo till they made it to a diner.

He hadn't been to the diner in ages, it's where they would take turns taking him as a small child when they would collect him from preschool and parts of grade school.

Some of his fondest memories were at this diner.

And Sanzu would never admit it but he would always share his cheesecake with little (name), making him promise to keep it a secret that he shared.

Mikey was the same with his food, though less secretive.

"...what's going on?" (Name) asked softly and Ran sighed "we're sorry"

"Sorry for what?"

"Forgetting your birthday"

(Name) very obviously closed up and mumbled "it's fine, you're all busy"

"It's not fine, we built it up to be great and crushed your hopes, this is the beginning of us making it up"

And they kept to their word, taking (name) anywhere he wanted to go.

And they promised themselves and (name) to not do that to him again.

They didn't want him to face the disappointment they faced countless times before from their own families.

#tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #bonten x reader #male reader #teen reader

[not-alien-girl-v]

Caramel (Ross Macdonald)

warning: language, reference to the inseam incident that i will never elaborate more on but love to reference over and over again

note: continues in this fluffy lil mini series that sorta starts here. i think i might continue this into a little mini series because i like this dynamic and i think i need more of y/n and ross in this universe. if you want to, you can imagine all the ross one shots i write all exist in the same universe cuz that’s what i do.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

it’s been 2 days since ross forcefully entered came to check in on you at your shared apartment with violet. you’re still on your period, so of course, you’re still finding it difficult to look ross in the eye without succumbing to your wildest dreams, so instead you made plans that are essentially a huge turn-off for you: hanging out with his friends.

“do i do eyeliner for this? is this, like, an eyeliner occasion?” violet questions while pretending she’s not as frantic as she truly is. she sits on the bathroom counter, having knocked over a few things on her climb up but you decided not to pester her about it.

“it really depends on who you plan on talking to.” you are sitting in the empty bathtub, fully clothed and a throw pillow hugged to your stomach. the bathroom door is closed and violet forgot to put on music so both your voices fill up the room, slightly echoing with enough enunciation.

“give me a run through again?” she pleads. you’ve done it twice, so you assume this last time is the last time but for real this time.

“first there’s adam, he has a girlfriend so he doesn’t care. then there’s george-“

“that’s the other big one, right? the blond?”

“we’ll he’s not actually blond, it’s just bleached. and very fried too. so if you’re into a man with a thicker head of hair, then you’d want to go for matty. but he comes with his own things to think about.”

“like?”

“i’m skipping ahead, sorry. so george, he’s very nice, very sweet guy, he is the other big one, he’s 6’4. smokes a lot of weed, like a lot. aside from his occasional forgetfulness from that, he’s very kind, very polite and respectful, very much a feminist. and he loves dogs.”

“well, i’m more of a cat person.”

“and you’re out of luck there. all his friends are dog people. you’ll have to adjust. anyways, then there’s matty. he’s like the ‘wattpad bad boy’ of the friend group, i think he got voted most likely to be a mafia boss and purchase a girl named ‘y/n’ from her junkie mother.”

“can you maybe like tell me something relevant about him?”

“that is relevant. he’s a little shorter, curly hair, a lot of tattoos, i mean, they all do. i think george might have the most, actually. he’s a bit of a dick at times and i know he means well or he’s mean in a comedic manner but more than often he just gets on my nerves and i know you have a much shorter temper than i do.”

“so you’re saying i should try to talk to george more.”

“i’m saying you should be careful. men are unpredictable and weird. and gross. you heard about the inseam incident, didn’t you?”

she visibly shudders. “god, how could i forget? fucking grotesque…”

she turns back to meet her own reflection in the mirror, staring blankly, but soon realizes how easily you dodged her original question. “wait, so eyeliner or no eyeliner?”

you give her a long, studying look. “eyeliner.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

you hold the door open for violet, always feeling like a gentleman to her damsel whenever she’s around. the inside of the boys’ house is much warmer than outside, and it feels like home, if home was a set temperature.

matty and george bicker over something in front of the tv, a case of dvds, maybe. adam is balls deep in conversation with his girlfriend, carly, while he pets allen, george’s matty’s dog. ross is in the kitchen grabbing a soda and a beer when he turns around at the noise of the door being opened.

“there’s my girl!” he exclaims, seemingly tipsy before the party has even begun. he drops both beverages on the kitchen island and circles around to give violet a brief side hug and you a much more substantial one. he squishes you in so tight you feel your ribs crack and splinter under the weight of it and he’s warm like a home should be. “good to see you, violet, you ready to meet my mates? they’ve been giddy about your arrival all day.”

“fuck off, we have not!” matty hollers over his shoulder and while his head is turned, george swiftly sticks a dvd of his own choice into the player and stands up, fleeing from the scene of the crime. he dusts his hands off on his jeans and reaches out to help his friend off the floor.

once matty realizes what has been done, his jaw drops in offense, and pettily, pushes g’s hands away and reluctantly stands up on his own. he stretches his arms up high and his back and elbows crack in the process. you’re much more used to his antics than violet, so you know he’s only doing this action to make the bottom of his t-shirt ride up, revealing his happy trail and his sexy tattoos.

this isn’t just some weird head-canon you have for him, you’ve actually heard him admit to this trick before when attempting to woo a woman.

ross leads the two of you over to the three men loitering the living room. “violet, this is adam,” adam doesn’t stand as the dog is in his lap, but he gives a humble wave that suffices, “matty,” violet doesn’t need to be pointed to who matty is. he stands and smiles widely and wraps violet in a hug.

“bold,” you mutter. matty flips you off behind violet’s back. you roll your eyes but he doesn’t catch it.

george approaches then, exuding a strange energy you’d never seen before. not from him at least. “and i’m george,” he extends a hand for a firm handshake, and when you watch violet agree to it, you can see him squeeze her hand just a smidge too tight.

they both are so weird. why can’t they just act normal around your friend?

“why are you two acting like freaks?” ross speaks the words right from your mouth and you feel a strong sense of adoration for him the way he can just simply share a thought of yours.

“no reason. anyway, we’re watching 'monster house,'" george dismisses and fetches the beer ross had been in the process of grabbing for him. while in the kitchen, he grabs two more sodas, holding both the cans perfectly in one large hand and you wonder what it must be like to possess such an ability.

ross drops down onto one end of the large couch, leaning into the arm of it and matty gets comfortable on a single arm chair, not leaving much opportunity to sit near violet and you start observing the weird male hierarchy that is already set in place when a new female is introduced to the ecosystem. were they like when you first met them all? you never bothered to ask, it never happened across your mind.

george returns with the sodas and hands one to you and one to violet, ever the gentleman, and sits down on the other side of the largest couch in the room.

“hey, wasn’t that coke supposed to be mine?” ross complains.

“there’s only two left. and y/n and violet are guests, so if y/n would like to share with you, that’s on her.”

ross sticks his tongue out at george’s back when he turns to fuss with the remote. you join the men on the couch, sitting a distance from ross and he immediately pulls you closer than close, you’re basically on his lap at this point. you’re confused at this sudden pda but then you notice it gives violet enough room to squeeze in right next to george on the couch. stupid unspoken male hierarchy rules.

you hand the soda to ross, not even having to ask or say anything at all, he knows it’s his official boyfriend duty to crack it open for you. he does exactly that, stealing a sip of it before handing it back. you squint at him.

you are sly when you side eye violet and george, completely eavesdropping on their gentle conversation but acting like you’re caught up in your own with your boyfriend. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say ross was listening in as well. you’re so in sync with him.

“i moved here after high school, my family is back in california,” you hear violet inform him and george looks all too interested.

“that explains the accent. it’s not everyday you hear an american, especially around here. why didn’t you go somewhere cooler like london?”

“y/n and i used to live there but then she started studying here so we made the move together. and sorry about the whole accent. it sounds a little silly compared to you guys, i know.”

“it’s not silly at all. i’ve actually always found it quite sexy, the american speak.”

it would sound like a load of bullshit if it were coming from anyone else but george is always so sincere in every word he says, you decide to leave them be for now.

you turn back to the man next to you. “can i kiss you?”

he scrunches his eyebrows, “since when do you need to ask?”

“i’m wearing lipstick. it’s gonna get on you. it might be… i don’t know… embarrassing.”

“why would it be embarrassing to have visible proof i just kissed a girl?”

“so that’s a yes, then?”

“kiss me any time. i love your lipstick. get it all over me if you want to.”

you decide to take that as a challenge and use both your hands to hold him down still, kissing every inch of his face that isn’t covered by the dark, coarse hair of his beard.

it takes him by surprise, so he sits still in shock for a few moments, letting you make a complete mess on his face, before finally retaliating, grabbing your face this time and kissing you properly.

“ew, get a room,” you didn’t even notice matty in the corner on the chair, now wrapped up in a thick blanket and pile driving a bowl of popcorn completely solo, looking like a young girl menstruating for the very first time.

ross wraps his arms around you, cradling you protectively into his neck. “mind your business, dickwad. watch the movie.” you mumble something into ross’s neck and he lets you loose so you can speak up. “what’s that?”

“douche canoe.”

he cackles in laughter, “yeah, you’re a douche canoe.”

matty rolls his eyes and you’re more than content with his irritation, so you finally give it a rest and cuddle back into ross, enjoying his warmth since matty stole both of the couch blankets.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

taglist: @indierockgirrl @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @americanangel @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

#Spotify #the 1975 #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald the 1975 #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macondald fanfic #ross macdonald x you #matty healy #matty healy fanfic #matty healy imagine #matty healy x you #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #george daniel x reader #george daniel fluff #george daniel fanfic #george daniel #george daniel the 1975 #george daniel fic #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel smut #adam hann #adam hann x reader #adam hann fanfiction

[billyhargrovesupsidedownshadow]

A little nonsensical Single father!Billy Harringrove piece, 968 words, no warnings, G

-------------------

Billy rubs a hand over his face. Fuck, he's tired.

"Why are you bringing someone over? You're a father!" Jen's voice is so insanely annoying, Billy can just barely hold himself from wincing. Exactly how drunk was he six years ago to deal with it, was beyond him.

He glances, frowning with worry, in the direction of his living room. It is suspiciously quiet. Sarah isn't running back, shrieking from seeing an unfamiliar man in her home, and Steve isn't trying to politely leave forever because oh, maybe Billy forgot to mention that he has a kid.

A kid who chose the first fucking mommy-weekend in five years when Billy had someone over to throw a tantrum about how she wants to be back at daddy's.

Like hell he will listen to all of his friends telling him he needs to meet people ever again. Fuck all of them. This is what meeting people leads to: children or childhood trauma.

"Jen, you fuck around all the fucking time, one night I invite someone over, and that's it, I'm a terrible father?"

"Don't swear in front of my child!" She whisper-yells at him.

He can't believe he's being slut-shamed in his own house, when he hasn't even done anything. Because as soon as they got to the fun part, Jen was banging on his door. Not the kind of banging Billy hoped for today, but definitely the only kind he's getting.

He squeezed his eyes shut. That's what he gets for taking a risk. A mess.

"Okay, alright, I'm not, bye, Jen, you brought Sarah over as she asked, now you can go."

"You can't have some man over with my child in the house!"

"Right, I'm not, bye, Jen," he ends up closing the door in her face, hoping that this will be the end of it for now. He knows he's going to hear all about it next weekend anyway.

He waits a couple of minutes to check that she isn't trying to break his door down again. Definitely not stalling before he has to go into the living room.

And Steve is actually so hot and nice and generally good. And loaded. Like who the fuck else brings his car over to a mechanic just to check over clearly nothing four times in a month. Their receptionist, Argyle, said that Steve came over only when Billy was in. Billy looked at the little bi flag on the BMW's dash for a long time before actually deciding to try his luck and asking Steve out.

And now Billy has to awkwardly explain how he managed to fail to mention that he has a kid over five dates and wave Steve goodbye forever. And he was starting to actually like the guy. Thinking that maybe life was looking up. That maybe he will have someone to come home to when Sarah is at her mom's.

But of course not. Not in his life.

He breathes out and walks into the room, the only light coming from the street lamps outside and the floor lamp leaning over the couch he was just making out with Steve on fifteen minutes ago.

"And you know all the breeds?" Steve asks in a very serious tone, looking at the book about horses that Sarah has on her lap sitting on the couch next to him.

"Yes! Daddy reads me all about them! And we go watch them at the stadium when there are competitions!" She answers, excitedly.

Billy leans against the doorframe, a bit dumbfounded.

Steve looks up at him and smiles, then turns back to Sarah.

"You can tell me all more about them next time, okay? I have to go now," he stands up.

"To feed your doggies?" Sarah asks, all understanding, brows furrowed.

"I hope my friend fed them, but I should go check in case she forgot. It was very nice meeting you, Sarah," he offers her his hand for a formal handshake and she giggles.

"Bye, Steve!" She yells as Steve walks by Billy to the hall.

They stand there, awkwardly, for a moment.

"You have dogs? I haven't seen any hair or damage in the car," Billy blurts out, like this is the most important thing right now.

"Yes, I have six. They aren't allowed into the Beemer, I have a minivan for them. Yes, I have two cars all for myself," he says before Billy has a chance to ask, while putting his shoes and a jacket on.

Then he looks at Billy again.

Billy just stares back, not knowing what to say. Steve looks pretty chill after the whole encounter, but Billy isn't about to allow himself to hope that they were still on for later.

Steve leans in a presses a small kiss to Billy's lips.

"Call me," he says, serious, making sure Billy's looking into his pretties fucking brown eyes ever. "Bye, Sarah!" He yells again, getting another "Bye!" in response. "Bye, Billy, see you next time," he says and finally smiles, opening the door.

"Yeah, next time," Billy manages to croak out eventually, his voice unexpectedly coarse. "I'll call you!" He adds as an afterthought when Steve is already walking to the elevator of Billy's building.

Steve waves at him.

Billy closes the door and leans against it.

Fuck.

"Daddy, is Steve your new friend?" Asks Sarah, coming to him and looking up at him with his own blue eyes.

"Yeah," he says.

She nods.

"That's good, you need more friends, and Steve's nice, he listened all about the horses! Can you make me a sandwich? I'm hungry!" She says all in one breath and skips to the kitchen.

Billy breathes out and follows her, fighting back a smile.

They are still on. Maybe he actually did luck out this time.

#stranger things #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #that's definitely a post #that's kind of a fic

[zushimart]

crossed wires, UNOFFICIAL ch.3. the scene i was writing quickly spun into something else that doesn't fit into the rest of the somewhat already written and planned storyline. i wanted to post it anyways, since i do like how it came out. it's really cheesy. miscommunication, hurt and (immediate) comfort, fluff, suggestive undertones. m!spiderman!reader x civilian!scara. childhood friends to lovers. 2.3k words. warnings: ummm mild conflict caused by miscommunication. scara raises his voice, but quickly regulates his anger. he also cries, but is soothed. nothing bad. read ch.1 here. read ch.2 here.

two and a half minutes later there’s a pounding on scara’s window that frightens him out of the chair and onto the floor. he looks up from the runner rug he landed on to see a face sat on the fire escape, a grin stretching across lips. curses spill out of his mouth as he gets to his feet and leans over the desk pressed up against the wall to unlock the window. “what the fuck?”

“yanked down the ladder. faster than buzzing,” he says. “and you gave me a time limit.”

“that was self imposed,” scara snaps, standing on his tippy toes and stretching his body to try and peer over the boy’s shoulder. “did you pull it back up? the landlord’s gonna call the cops.”

“oh, so when i’m early, i’m scolded and when i’m late, i’m scolded,” he says, rolling his eyes and pushing scara out of the way to crawl onto the desk and into his studio apartment. scara takes another look and can see the stairs folded up, looking untouched. a sigh of relief follows.

“misattribution of my irritation,” scara says, slamming the window closed hard enough to rattle the walls of his glorified closet. he turns around to see him toeing his shoes off politely with his head bowed… until he opens his mouth and sours the courtesy:

“real big words for such a pretty face,” he says, dodging when scara swings. “i’m joking!”

“bad joke.”

and he bursts into giggles, pulling a squirming scara into a bone-crushing hug before the boy can think of interrogating him for his impossibly sudden appearance. “you’d die without them,” he mumbles, pushing his cold nose into scara’s neck. he’s clawing at his arms, trying to pull them off, but they tighten like vines.

“what the fuck is this for?” scara asks, strained as he’s lifted off his feet. the question goes ignored and the air punches from his lungs from the force of the next squeeze.

the boy’s voice is suddenly serious, “you can handcuff yourself to me,” he says.

scara’s face flushes red as a cherry. “don’t make it sound weird,” he admonishes, tone pitching up. he gives one last kick of his feet before he surrenders, going limp as a doll. he quietly hopes the slamming beat of his heart is not as loud as it is in his ears.

“no, it’s a good idea,” the boy mumbles, lips brushing against the sensitive shallow above scara’s collarbones. his eyes widen as a shiver slides down his spine, followed by delicate fingertips tracing the ridge of the bones of his back lower and lower��– which means he’s being held up by the strength of a single arm. the revelation sizzles scara’s brain, restarting a few times from the electrical overload as lips ghost skin again, “i could keep you safe.” and scara realizes there’s a warm heat pooling in his stomach and a pathetic noise crawling up his throat… he panics, swallowing it as he flails wildly once again with a real strength this time. he’s dropped unceremoniously onto hardwood and he curses, rubbing at his tailbone. “sorry,” says the perpetrator with the gall to look sheepish.

“i-i’m still mad at you,” scara says, cringing at his own petulance. “don’t think you’ve distracted me with whatever… that was. acting like a guilty dog.”

he puts a finger to his lips and hums. “maybe a leash instead?”

“gross!” scara exclaims, kicking a foot out and making contact with his shin. there’s a sharp, sucking gasp as he keels over onto the floor. “f-freak,” scara stutters, mostly to himself as he tries to banish images the swift mind conjures.

after a minute of letting the pain dissipate, he opens his mouth again: “what are you mad about? yesterday?” he asks from where he lay, forehead still glued to the floor in defeat. “i’m sorry. that was shitty.”

“where did you go?” scara demands.

“around. i got you something,” he says, fishing around his pocket. “my apology gift.” scara almost groans. maybe mona was right, he had a boyfriend with none of the perks and all of the disappointment.

he gets into a sitting position across from scara and drops a small ball of tissue paper on the floor with excitement gleaming in his eye. scara reaches a tentative hand to take it and begins to unwrap. careful not to rip the delicate tissue, he reveals a strip of silver that catches the ambient light. he peels the piece out and it sits like a dime in his palm.

the little charm is quickly warmed by the heat of his hands. he eyes it closely, noticing the delicate carving of their initials sitting together. “did you make this?”

“mn,” he affirms with a smile.

it’s a replica from the past of a dime-turned-pendant the two traded as children before scara tied it to a bridge on a summer trip in paris with his step-mother.

he was proud, at the time, to declare his friendship as important as everyone else’s with the pendant’s leather cord knotted around a metal bar like the locks beside it. yae even helped guide his swiss army knife into the soft metal of the coin till chicken-scratch letters were married to each other. she took a photo for him, sent it to the other boy’s mom, too. until he grew up and realized the pendant was wrapped around a love lock bridge meant for people who kiss. and it was brought up to tease him. over and over.

“are you making fun of me?”

“what?” he asks, face falling.

scara’s heart races. “the jokes, the hug, this,” he starts, bile burning the back of his throat.

“what do you mean? why would i make fun of you?”

“y-you make fun of me all the time!”

“so do you!” he exclaims. “but why would i do it now?”

“what is this for?” scara asks, clutching the metal in his fist.

the eyes across from him widen. his throat bobs. he fidgets with his hands when he answers, “you seem worried… that i don’t care about you.”

scara’s face twists into a grimace as frustration surges like high tide. he can hear it in his ears as pressure constricts his temples. “what do you think i’m upset about? be clear.” and while previous blades had been blunt, like wooden sticks to spar with, these words are sharp.

the boy takes a resigned breath and opens up, uncrossing his arms and sitting with his legs spread. “that i’m late? i miss plans? i don’t text back?” he asks with a tilt of his head, the uncertainty dripping off his voice is like kerosene.

“no!” scara almost shouts as his temper ignites. his voice only climbs higher and higher, “why– you’re– you don’t even know what i’m… that’s not what i’m––” scara catches himself when the boy across from him flinches. taking a deep breath, he recalls nahida’s warm whispered prayers, i will be kind and gentle to every living thing. focusing on the weight of the drop of metal in his hand, he rubs it with his thumb, pressing flesh into the shallow channels of their initials. the flame dampens.

“that’s not what i’m upset about,” he says, settled.

then comes the exceedingly careful question, uttered like a plea: “what are you upset about?”

“i’m worried about you,” scara spills. “you won’t tell me what you’re doing, and it frustrates me, but it’s not a jealousy thing or a snubbed thing, it’s a… my b-best friend is suddenly skipping classes and he’s never done that before… thing,” the words tumble out of him, “and he shows up with bruises, and he texts me this cryptic shit like he’s on the run. and he’s not the kind of guy to disappear without telling anyone, but he keeps disappearing without telling anyone!” he says, drawing up into himself with crossed arms and an avoidant gaze like he can protect the physical while revealing the underbelly of his mind. “i’m upset because i’m scared that maybe you’re in... that you're in trouble! or something. and you won’t let me help. my best friend won’t let me help,” he says, opening his palm to take a look at the coin. “s-so, to me, this doesn’t… this doesn’t mean anything,” scara surmises with a frown and tosses it back to the other boy.

he catches it between his fingers. the nonchalance in his movement feels like a sleight against scara’s bumbling vulnerability. and as the climax of his words peters, the two fall into an unnameable silence. even the upstairs neighbor has retired with the absence of creaking footsteps from the ceiling above them.

despite this, he still searches for scara’s gaze. “do you think it’s your fault?” he asks gently.

“what?” the question is soft in his nervousness as he denies his eyes.

“do you think it’s your fault i won’t tell you?”

an admission of something, he notices, but the confirmation is overshadowed by the surgical precision of his question. in fact, his body reacts much quicker than a thought can form. his vision goes blurry and he blinks only to feel fat tears track down his cheeks. horrified, his sweater-covered palms vigorously wipe at his face and press down on his eyes, but like a burst levy, water flows. “is it my fault?” he asks, voice thick and bottom lip trembling.

“no,” he answers. he sounds closer. scara looks up to see him an arm’s length away. “it’s not. you know, you would be the first person i’d tell. if i could. you’re the only one who’s noticed,” he says. “noticed enough to make me admit something.” and he pokes a bit further: “noticed enough to cry about it.”

“s-shut up,” scara says, wiping at his face, but he does nothing to push the reaching hand away. the front of his loose sweater is fisted and pulled, but the material’s give does nothing to move him. instead, he takes the invitation by guiding himself into this new seat and wrapping his legs around a waist, arms around a neck. he forgoes the natural pillow of the other boy’s chest in favor of the reverse, guiding the other’s face into the same position as before –– lips and warm breath brushing scara’s collarbones –– a choice made to keep the illusion of control. no other reason. “you’re not lying, right?” scara asks, re-propping the ghost of his mental guard despite revealing the softness of his body.

“besides omission. and the shit i say sometimes… to cover. i don’t like lying. s’why i’m so bad at it,” the words are muffled against scara’s neck, sending tingles up his throat.

“and whatever… you’re doing. it’s dangerous?”

scara can feel his face squeeze around before he answers. “yeah. sure, yeah.”

“ridiculous,” scara mutters under his breath and gives the boy a pinch. “nahida loves you like a son, you know, she could help… somehow,” he mumbles. “and if you needed something crazy… like, anything… i could just… i would even call… her,” scara trails off. “if you needed me to.”

“what? just kill me if i do something stupid enough to warrant ei intervention.”

scara hums. “recently… she’s been a lot nicer,” he says.

“oh really?” he asks, shifting his weight and almost toppling them both. scara holds on tight, mouth opening to protest as he realizes the boy is about to stand… but he does it, and he does it like it’s easy.

scara swallows hard, really hard, as he’s carried to his bed. “is the thing you’re doing at the gym?” he blurts. “jesus christ, i wasn’t going to say it before, but,” the words get louder and louder in an attempt to drown the more shameful whispers of his mind turning his face red as he’s gently laid in the mattress.

he giggles, “i think it's a side effect." he presses a knee against scara's side and his eyes dart to the movement.

scara's almost disappointed when he pushes off to fall beside him and not on him, but the feeling is tempered by vines reclaiming his waist as a chest presses flush against his back. his head stuffs with cotton, edges of his vision softening.

and suddenly, he finds the plausible deniability laced through their years-long intimacy to be a bit cruel and unusual.

i should tell him to stop, scara thinks. he doesn’t know what he’s doing. he opens his mouth, but the betrayal of his brain leads to him detailing recent maternal events instead. among other things, too, like a plan for their report due the following week and how nahida’s bought him his favorite tea from a traditional shop or how he almost got hit by a car (earning a bone-crushing squeeze reminiscent to the one he was greeted with) and how spiderman is actually kind of awkward (a disappointed sigh) until the quiet attentive hums fade into whispers of a murmur, and then they die completely.

scara twists his head around, wiggling the velcro grip loose till he’s nose to nose with a softly snoring face.

he reaches down to feel around the boy’s wrist, slipping a finger under the leather strap and tugging it off. the ordeal takes three slow minutes, but the fruit of his labor is the pendant returned without having to ask.

he slips the bracelet onto his wrist. “i like it,” he whispers to the unconscious figure beside him. “thank you.” that counts, scara thinks to himself as he flops back around. right? he lets his mind guide him in dizzy circles, fighting sleep by the light of the lamp on his nightstand. he isn’t anxious, though… not in the steady presence of this other body in his bed, and that is enough.

#tbh i might start crossposting to ao3 #espesh since this is like long enough to justify posting ovr there #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scara x reader #did u guys see my little mixed media feature #texted myself tbh #ok littterally leave feedback if u want or whateverr #PLEAS GOAWDD PLEASS #sorry if this is really messy this is literally an au of my au AGHHGAHAHA