Convict!Ghost and innocent!reader who signs up for a program to visit and write letters to convicts without friends or families on the outside. You believe in the program, believe you're acting as a way to anchor a man, who would otherwise be lost, to society.
Ghost pretends you're getting through to him, nods and smiles when you tell him you know he can do better, be better. Meanwhile, he's thinking of all the filthy, depraved things he wants to do to you when he's released, thinking of his friend Soap in the laundry whose specialty is smuggling contraband in and wondering if he can convince you to slip him a nice lil picture of yourself or maybe even a pair of your panties. Soap probably wouldn't even want his usual cut, so long as he can get a look too.
Honourable, brave, beloved of everyone he met, an icon of society. And loving too. He couldn't deny that.
Yet Arjun Singh Rangi had been loving in the way of the sun in the hours of the mid-morning. You could feel it, warming you, seeping down into your bones, re-emerging as sweat to stain your collar. That love would be undeniable, impossible to ignore...until you sat under the shade of a tree and the circle of fire disappeared from view. Your sweat dried, and all you might wonder was, was I really feeling so hot, then?
His father's love was like that. When he was there, Jassi felt his adoration every second of every minute. When he left, the vividity of the memories disappeared so fast that he was left wondering if he had imagined it.
(Later, Jaskirat would remember that he rarely ever looked his father in the eye. Which was fine. You know that the sun overhead is benevolent and exists to give you life. Doesn't mean you're going to stare at it like an idiot and burn your eyes, right? Right?)
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He had met men of that calibre often, in his life. The officers in his training barracks, whose eyes shined with rage when he stumbled; and when he got back up, the pride in their eyes burned through Jassi's chest.
Ajay Sanyal, too. Jaskirat knew he was a tool in the hands of the IB Chief. He knew simultaneously that Sanyal cared for him.
(He hadn't known that always. When he was being tortured by Hassan after being caught, the phone had rung, and -- well, he'd know that goddamn rage-inducing calm voice no matter where he heard it. But, a second before the phone call, he had thought, help me please please get me out of here, and simultaneously, he had thought, for the first time in more than a decade, about Naieem Baloch. The absurd thought had come to him: was he scared? Did he, in his mind, call out for --?
He had wondered why Naieem had chosen that particular moment to show up in his head. What could possibly have triggered that train of thought? Until Ajay Sanyal had looked at him and said you did good, and Jaskirat had thought, oh --)
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And Aalam, of course. But Hamza couldn't bear to think of him for long. His memory hurt, hurt, hurt and he couldn't breathe he couldn't --
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And Rehman, oh, Rehman.
(For a brief while, Donga and Siyahi and even Uzair had been good-naturedly jealous of him. "You see, when Bhai threw mud on Naieem Baba's coffin, he ripped out some goddamn piece of his heart and threw it in there too. Stopped playing with us, smoking with us, eating with us. And then you come along! And he hugs you. He fucking hugs you in front of that whole crowd gathered in the courtyard. What do you want us to think, you attention-stealing bastard?")
Rehman, too, had been distant in his ways: buying a motorcycle for him and giving the keys to Uzair. Leaving tightly packed guns outside Hamza's apartment for him to practice with. Spending a vulgar amount of money to conduct his walima in the best hall of Lyari, all without speaking a word to Hamza or involving him in those decisions. Hamza soaked up that love like clotted blood seeping into a sponge and making it stained and heavy.
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Fathers are weird, aren't they? Gurbaaz had said once, trying and failing not to cry out while Jassi pressed an icepack to his cheek. Mothers are much simpler.
You don't even know any mothers except mine, Jassi had answered back.
Exactly. Gurbaaz had grinned, almost tearing the stitch Mrs. Rangi had left on the corner of his lip.
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It was true, though, Hamza had thought on the bus to Karachi. Mothers were much simpler.
He had developed a fever, once, only once, on one of the nights in which he had stayed back at the haveli. He had lain, half-unconscious, as his master's wife laid a cool cloth against his head.
Bhabhi, aap kyun -- he had murmured in one of his more lucid moments. Ulfat Baloch had laughed.
Men of blood and war, all of you. Don't I know your type? One of my poor maids will touch your forehead, and you will snap and shout, caught in a terrible dream. They can never be paid enough for that. At least I know you are too frightened of me, even while unconscious, to try something like that.
That had been a frightening night. Hamza had dreamed of fevers, of a boy called Jassi who was supposed to be dead. When he woke, his eyes refused to open. He felt a familiar scent of gunmetal and oudh. He has heard me call out things I am not supposed to talk about, in my sleep, he has come to kill me, I need to get up now --
"The poor boy." A quiet voice, so low, he could barely hear. "In the throes of his fever last night, he called me --"
"Not the first time, is it?" The husband answered the wife. "If I recall correctly, Uzair also --"
He drifted to sleep before he could hear the rest of it.
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"What did Shirani Saab say to you?"
"What?" Her husband seemed to come out of a trance.
"He said something, and you looked at me and made that face you make when you're trying not to smile."
"Oh...that. He, ah, he said I would be a good father."
"Well, he is an excellent judge of character." Yalina smiled, stretching out to place her head in her husband's lap. "Achche waalid banoge tum, pyaare shohar mere."
His hand descended into her hair. When he spoke, he sounded far away. "Do you think so? Fathers are often complicated."
Yalina couldn't deny the truth of it. Her own -- no, we're not going there today, thank you very much. "True. But I don't need to worry about that."
"No?"
"No, Hamza. Tumhara pyaar bilkul paak-saaf hai."
She was sure she imagined his breath catching in his throat.
-ˋ┈┈ 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐜 𝐦𝐞𝐧 ( requests are ... open ! )
22. "i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice.”
contains: waitress!reader, small age-gap, flustered!adrian, fluff
Working at Fennel Fields wasn't a glamorous arrangement by any means, but it was convenient. Life in Evergreen was relatively cheap, but there weren't an abundance of job opportunities. You had been hired as a waitress a few months ago, a way to make some money while you finished up your degree, and so far, it didn't totally suck.
The most exciting part of your job so far had proven to be a certain blond busboy, who clearly had a bit of a crush on you, but could not flirt to save his life. Every time he tried to speak to you, he would stumble over his words and rush away before you could reassure him, and it would have irritated you if he wasn't so fucking cute.
His glasses were always a little crooked on his nose, his cheeks usually flushed a delicate pink, and he had this nervous little chuckle that made your heart flutter.
It was like a little game you played whenever your shifts aligned, flashing him smiles and waves across the restaurant. on more than one occasion, this had led to him dropping things on the floor and trying to recover from it not-so-smoothly.
Your coworker, Adrian Chase, was hopelessly adorable, and although he was a few years older and definitely awkward beyond belief, you were starting to develop a little crush on him, too.
That evening, the restaurant was unusually quiet. You seized the opportunity to step out into the alley and check your texts, but when you stepped into the autumn air, you were surprised to see Adrian out there as well, leaning against the wall with his phone in his hand.
When he looked up and saw you, he promptly fumbled with his phone and dropped it onto the concrete, scrambling to pick it up with little curses muttered under his breath.
You couldn't help but giggle a little. "You good?"
"Huh? Oh, me? Yeah, no, i'm good," he replied, trying to play it off as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.
"I didn't mean to scare you," you said, walking over to stand beside him.
"Scare me? Nah, you didn't. I just...didn't wanna get caught texting on the clock, y'know? I didn't realize it was you at first."
You leaned your shoulder against the brick wall, looking up at him. It was maybe a believable lie, but you had seen him shatter enough wine glasses in your presence to know it wasn't true. You made him nervous, and it intrigued you.
He was a good-looking guy; you had seen a customer leave him her number on a napkin just the other day, actually, and he had seemed completely stunned by it. Had he never had a girlfriend before?
"So, why haven't you tried to ask me out yet?" you asked boldly, a smirk playing on your lips.
Adrian flushed to the tips of his ears, babbling out a few nonsensical noises before finally landing on, "I'm sorry?"
"I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”
Adrian looked around as if he was searching for the hidden cameras in this elaborate prank. He opened his mouth and closed it again, before finally saying, "I mean...Do you want me to ask you out? Like...you'd say yes?"
You chuckled, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Yeah, I do. I would. I'd like to see you in an outfit that isn't this uniform."
He smiled, fiddling with the straps of his apron. "Yeah, um, you too. So...Do you want to go out sometime?"
You put your finger on your chin, like you were thinking about it. "Yes," you replied after a moment.
Adrian's face lit up, like he hadn't believed you were serious. "Okay, um, awesome! When are you free?"
You two arranged to meet up that weekend, and as you walked back inside of Fennel Fields, you swore you could hear Adrian doing some sort of victory dance, which made you laugh to yourself.
May I get a drabble about Perry having to kiss Heinz to either protect his identity or just keep Heinz quiet?
Thanks for reading! Feel free to delete for whatever reason ♡
Hiiiii, Thanks for the nice asks and thank you for your patience.
That time Perry and Doofenshmirtz bumped into Major Monogram and Carl in the supermarket was bad enough. Now, imagine Perry’s frustration when Heinz dragged him along to the supermarket again, this time to buy nougat and toothpaste. He was just minding his own business, trying to convince Heinz to buy a nicer shampoo than the cheapest one, and reading the ingredients on a bottle when a very familiar voice rang out behind him.
“Perry?”
It was Linda.
Perry turned, lightning-quick, and came face to face with Linda and Candace, who were looking at him in surprise.
“Hi.” She continued, eyeing him up and down in his work outfit. “My, don’t you look professional today.”
He barely had enough time to do a nervous little wave before Heinz caught on to the conversation behind him, and he turned.
“Perry? Do you know these people?” Heinz asked, and Perry turned to him vaguely aware that he was PANICKING. NOT GOOD. HEINZ AND FAMILY. BAD. VERY BAD.
“Hello?” Linda said politely. “Do you know Perry?”
Candace hadn’t seemed interested in the situation initially, but her uncle didn’t seem to know anybody. Him being in the supermarket with a stranger was perhaps the most exciting thing Perry had ever done in his miserable and boring life.
“Do I know Perry?” Heinz repeated thoughtfully, unaware that his nemesis had stopped breathing. “Yeah, of course I do.”
“Oh, well. Nice to meet you,” Linda said, extending one hand for Heinz to shake. “Although.” She looked at Heinz curiously. “Have we met before?”
Heinz accepted the gesture and shook Linda’s hand. “I have to be super honest with you. I am horrible with faces.” He explained. “I even forget Perry’s face sometimes. Only very rarely! But it has happened once or twice.
Despite his shock, Perry couldn’t help but crack a little smile. One of twice, his secretive ass.
“And how do you know Perry?” Linda asked conversationally, but she and her daughter both had matching curious expressions.
“Oh, you know,” Heinz explained happily, not aware that was was about to ruin Perry’s life forever. “Perry the Platypus is my secret-”
Agent. The next word was going to be agent, Perry realized. He had to do something and he had to do something NOW! There was no time for a plan, he had to act. So, Perry prepared himself and followed his instincts.
Perry jolted as he suddenly sprang to action as if he had been shocked by a bolt of lightning. With both hands, he grabbed Heinz’s face, pulled him down to his level and firmly and confidently smushed their mouths together right there in the middle of the super food stuff mart.
In a sudden wave of clarity, Perry remembered that sometimes INSTINCT. BAD. Like right now. There he was, mouth to mouth with his nemesis with no further plan. He could release Heinz, but then there would be many, many questions from Candace, Linda AND HEINZ.
So, since his instinct got him into this mess, his instinct could get him out.
Still kissing, Perry dragged Heinz around the corner to the next aisle, leaving Candace and Linda right there.
Stupified, they watched him go.
Over in the deodorant aisle, Perry released Heinz’s lips with a smack and placed him upright as Heinz stammered and stumbled, too confused by everything to speak coherently.
“I- eeh? Oh? Uh! aa.” He exclaimed.
Perry took Heinz by his slanted shoulders and shook him lightly.
“This is the weirdest dream I’ve had since that time I dreamt a tiny alien force-fed me watermelons. No. Wait. This is still stranger. Perry the platypus what was that about?!”
At least Heinz seemed to be coming back to his senses. Perry, unsure of how to explain, dug through his pockets and pulled out a pamphlet with the title “So you’ve found out your uncle is a secret agent. What now?” and pushed it into Heinz’s hand. 「Read that.」And off he went, back to the toothpaste aisle.
Linda and Candace were exactly where he had left them. Their mouths were still vaguely open in shock.
Perry smiled as innocently as he could as he jogged up to them. 「Whoopie」 He gestured at them.
Linda stared at his hands and blinked. “Whoopsie?” she repeated.
“What did you just do?!” Candace shouted. “And with him!” she gestured at the end of the aisle, where he had dragged Doof off to.
「Couldn’t help myself.」 Perry replied hysterically. 「What a stud, right?」
“... Right,” Linda replied, confused but supportive.
“NO!” Candace replied, because she was 15, always honest, and convinced something was wrong with Perry.
「Got to go!」Before he left, he grabbed a tube of toothpaste, and then he ran. Luckily for him, they didn’t even try to follow him.
Heinz was still busy reading the pamphlet when Perry returned and snatched it back. He presented him with the toothpaste, forced him into the next aisle, and refused to explain anything.
By the time he returned home to the Flynn-Fletcher residency, Perry was exhausted. But when he stepped into the kitchen he came face to face with Lawrence and Linda, who seemed to have been waiting for him.
“Oh, there you are Perry,” Linda said, and she turned to him. “Me and Lawrence are a bit worried about you.”
It's not that Chris is such a natural born big brother, although he really ends up liking it a lot. It's not that Chris understands Theo in a lot of different way because they both have some very ADHD suspicious behaviour, although he definitely sees some of his own struggles reflected back in Theo. It's not that Chris decides to help in taking care of Theo because that's what family does and Buck is the steadiest presence of family he's ever known.
Their surprisingly balanced sibling dynamic is not Christopher's credit. It's mostly Theo.
Theo, who sees Chris for the first time and tells him that they have similar hair.
Theo, who asks why Chris walks funny and listens to the explanation so intently that Buck is tearing up from the other room where he's eavesdropping.
Theo, who asks if Chris can't play with him because of his CP (which ends up as Sippy because he's 4) and starts beaming when Chris explains that he can and wants to play with him just sometimes he has to do things differently.
Theo, who from that moment on, makes it his mission to create games that he can specifically play with Chris because he is awesome and he deserves his own games.
Theo, who accelerates like a formula 1 car and disappears from Bucks or Eddie's side constantly, giving them heart attacks left and right but Chris had to ask him once to slow down because he can't keep up with his super speed and ever since, he walks by Christopher's side, jumping and bouncing and spinning around but never running off. Even if he decides he absolutely needs to run, he runs circles around Chris instead of bolting in whichever direction.
Everyone else is shocked. Stunned to silence whenever Theo becomes an absolute angel when he's around Chris — still hyperactive, still bouncing with excitement, still eager to do things but calm enough that he doesn't blow up or break or burn down anything.
And one day, Chris and Theo fall asleep cuddling on the couch with a random animated movie playing on the TV. Buck covers them with a fluffy blanket and retreats to the kitchen where Eddie is waiting with a beer cracked open for him. And Buck sighs, saying something about how he still cannot wrap his head around how close Theo and Chris have gotten. How good of an effect Chris has on Theo's behaviour. How Theo is so empathetic in the way only children can be.
Smiling, Eddie shrugs. "I mean, it's not that big of a surprise. He's your son."
And Buck hasn't really accepted that role for himself so far, even though it's been months since Theo came into his life like the perfect little hurricane he is. He didn't feel the right. But Eddie says it in a way that finally breaks through a wall that he's been building since the moment he laid that beautiful, perfect baby boy onto Cameron's chest.
Maybe he is Theo's dad after all. If Eddie believes so, it can't be that crazy. Even if he really couldn't have done this without Eddie, it wouldn't be so crazy.
another 118 word drabble from a prompt from this list (thank you sazzy!)
Buck fidgets outside Tommy's front door. He should knock, right? If he leaves the post-breakup box of Tommy's stuff on the stoop, it might get stolen.
Before he can decide what to do, the door swings open. "Is that my shirt?" Buck can't help but blurt. "Why're you wearing my shirt?"
Tommy stands in the doorway, mouth agape, cheeks scruffy, eyes a little puffy. His mouth clicks closed as he looks down at his chest and crosses his arms. "It's comfy."
"Uh-huh." Buck squints. "No other reason?"
"Evan." Tommy draws himself impossibly tighter.
"I have more comfy shirts. You just gotta be my boyfriend again if you want 'em." Buck offers.
Tommy hesitates before holding open the door.
tim drake x reader, 18+, no full on smut but uhh mature!!, wc: 0.6k. for my two week challenge!
“Why do you smell so good,” Tim panted against your neck, hands slipping up underneath your top, pushing it up, exposing the skin of your stomach to the colder outside air, goosebumps raising up your arms.
You choked out half a moan as he resumed sucking and licking across the expanse of it, “perfume,” you eventually managed to murmur, very much aware of the fact that the two of you were in a dingy alleyway behind some fire escape.
“I can taste it,” he replied, voice wrecked, "fuck." He wasn't really thinking straight anymore.
You really hadn’t meant for it to escalate to this point but you weren’t exactly complaining either. The leather of his gloves was warmed up by your own skin, but still rough, and it shouldn’t be as hot as it was. You craved more of his touch, of his hands on you.
With one hand tangled in his hair you pulled him up to your mouth again, wanting, needing his lips on yours again. He seemed to agree, hoisting you up by your thighs, pushing you further against the wall, fully sandwiching you between him and the cold.
His tongue in your mouth was dominating, more so than usual, but you were content to melt against him, pulling him closer by the shoulder. It was messy, a little too hard but so good.
“Fuck,” he breathed against your lips, again, after a while, and you could feel the way yours were swollen. Your lipstick must have smudged, because it was half on his face by now. After taking in his fill, he kissed you again, and you could feel the way he was hard, even through his suit, grinding against you.
It was all too much but not enough, and you whined high, wanting more.
“Shh,” he reprimanded against your ear, his breath tickling you, but you didn’t register it properly, only a distant sensation in comparison to the rest. The only thing on your mind was him, the way he was holding you up, the way the red of your lipstick matched the tone of his outfit perfectly. “Wouldn’t want others to hear you, now.”
For some reason that you were not going to dissect right now it made you clench around him harder, a pathetic hitched breath escaping you at the thought of other people seeing you like this, fully dressed but completely exposed, held up by Red Robin.
“Ah,” he said, his voice tilting up in a way he usually reserved only for when he managed to fit in the final piece of one of his cases, “that turns you on, doesn’t it? The fact that other people could see you like this, all spread out, just for me.”
You wanted to kiss him again, just to shut him up, but he stopped letting your hand lead him back to you, just a hair's breath away from your lips, “just look at you whining, after you were the one that send me the filthiest picture just before going out, just before you knew I was patrolling.”
There really wasn’t anything to say, your breaths were still uneven, your heart beating too fast. The eerily white of his eyes seemed to stare into your soul, into the very last corner of your being. You needed his hands on you, his cock in you, just him, closer.
“You knew exactly what you’re doing to me,” he said, grabbing one of your hands to grab his own bulge, “wearing red, posing like that. I was thinking about you the entire time, but that’s what you wanted, right?”
With your still clasped hands, he tore off his mask, and his eyes were dark, his pupil swallowing up almost his entire iris. He looked hungry, a little crazy, a little too obsessed. You could feel the way your wetness drenched your underwear, the way he pushed even closer, “these are the consequences of your own actions.”
You could feel the way he was hitching up your skirt even higher, pulling down your panties, greedy the way he only ever got with you. A shiver ran down your spine, and you arched up into his touch.
If those were the consequences to your actions you could live very happily with them.
(he has the highest sex drive out of all of them and you can pry this from my cold dead hands.) want something different tmr? request something here!
