#I know you’re not anon I just have to add the tag to keep it in one place I’m sorry ahahahha

[academic-vampire]

Hello ✨

I just wanted to say that your blog is so pretty, I'm obsessed 🤍

Um okay I love you ???😎 thank you so much. I really appreciate it 🖤🦇

[nymphoniah]

shotgunning a cigar while grinding in origins!logan’s lap 😵‍💫😵‍💫

steal away | logan howlett

pairing: origins!logan x afab!reader

i literally can’t stop thinking about smoking with logan, whether it be the two of you stepping out for a quick smoke break, to him busting out a cigar after the two of you just had sex. like ohmygaaaawd. i need to be put down. thank you anon for giving me another scenario to fantasize about >_<

content/tags: nsfw, minors dni, 18+ only, suggestive content, dry humping, grinding, pet names (princess, doll, etc.), teasing, very very subtle dom/sub vibes.

you could see him all riled up when he comes back home from work, his muscles aching and sore—begging for your attention.

he flops onto the couch, his legs splayed, both arms resting across the backrest of the couch. and tilts his head back, spotting an upside-down version of you typing away furiously on your laptop keyboard.

a little whistle escapes out from the corner of his lips, grabbing your attention. he flashes you a coquettish smile, his hands gesturing to come join him on the couch.

you follow his command with no hesitation, wanting any excuse to get away from work—sending chains of corporate emails could only get so interesting.

pulling his legs together, he pats his quads. “c’mere princess, need to get a good look at you,” he mumbles, reaching over to the coffee table to grab a cigar.

you help logan, passing him the straight cutter placed alongside the ashtray, playfully pulling the rusted lighter he kept in the chest pocket of his flannel.

you flicked the lighter, shielding the flame from the cool breeze that lingered from an opened window in the kitchen.

his scent floods your senses as you lean into him with the lighter in your hands, his lips wrapped tightly around the cigar—the strong musk of wood and amber. the unique smell of him when he comes back from the lumberyard.

taking your hand in his, he guides the lighter to the end of the cigar. logan’s hazel eyes bore into yours as the smoke floods between the two of you, reluctantly letting your hand go.

“can’t get enough of you, darlin,” he grumbles out the corner of his mouth, followed with a puff of smoke.

you place the lighter and cutter over to the side, which eventually would be lost between the cushions later tonight.

his hands move their way to the small of your back, the calloused pads of his fingertips teasing their way underneath your nightgown.

a small gasp slips out from your lips as his hands continue to work at your skin—it felt as if you were on fire, his cold hands roaming further down, playfully tugging at the waistband of your panties.

your hands steady themselves on his brooding shoulders, giving him a little squeeze of affection. “it tickles, logan,” you chuckle, resting your head against his chest, eyelashes fluttering against him.

you can feel him exhale in response, his hands making their way to your ass, grasping at the plump flesh. “sorry, doll. just can’t keep my hands off you.”

you whine against him, and before you know it, your hips start to move on their own; the steady rhythm of your grinding matched the way his chest faltered up and down, feeling his length grow beneath you.

he gives you a slight tap on the ass, signaling for you to look back at him. “eyes up, princess,” he lulls into the shell of your ear before you pull back to meet his gaze.

“wanna taste?” logan asks, pulling the cigar away from his lips. the timbre of his voice making the offer even more tempting.

you nod your head eagerly, moving your hand from his shoulder to reach for the cigar, but he teasingly pulls it further away from you grasp, a tsk escaping from the corner of his mouth.

“use your words, princess.”

“can i have a taste, lo?” you respond rather hastily, your eyes flicking back and forth from the cigar to his lips, curled forming an impish smirk.

“c’mon. you’re missing something,” he taunts, raising his eyebrow.

“please?” you sweetly add, rutting your hips against him as an added oomph to your little request.

“‘atta girl,” he groans, feeling his cock twitch at the friction, nails digging into the soft flesh of your ass to ground himself.

with his other hand, he pulls the cigar back between his lips, deeply inhaling, letting the smoke linger in his mouth for a bit, and rests the cigar against the ashtray.

his face now a mere inch away from yours, he firmly grips your chin, and you slack your jaw open, your plump lips parted.

logan then steadily shotguns the smoke into your mouth—the heady aroma of ash and tinder flooding your senses, followed by the rush of the nicotine entering your bloodstream.

the buzz made everything feel more pleasurable, intense. the way his nose gently nudged against yours sent a shiver down your spine, the way you felt his dick grow even bigger made you press your pelvis into his further.

your head finds its way back nestled deep into his chest, and your hips seem to have a mind of its own as you continue to grind sensually against him.

“such a needy girl, huh?” logan teases, his hands guiding your hips, allowing you to rut faster against him.

“missed you so bad, lo. waited for you all day to come back home,” you whine, pressing kisses against him, the coarse hair of his chest riling you further.

“well, you’re in for a treat tonight, princess…”

[vickyzangels]

% “..but i kinda hope they catch us, anyway.”

# synopsis ; an anon asked for sfw and nsfw headcanons for tom but i accidentally deleted the ask while trying to fight for my life against tumblr because every time i added a border two other pictures would disappear tumblr i hope you fall down the stairs

# pairing ; tom kaulitz x reader

# word count ; 551

# tags ; nsfw further under “keep reading” (mdni)

a/n ; i’m gonna drop this first but i have a nearly finished smut oneshot literally sitting in docs rn if i get decent enough feedback on this i’ll drop it

sfw

y’all remember that interview where he said he’d “fall in love for only a night but that he’d be down for true love later”? yeah unfortunately that applied to you, too

this can go one of two ways, you work close to the band as staff or you were a fan at one of their concerts that for some reason has to keep coming back and tom took a visual liking to you

what goes down between you two after he first notices you is vague but tom keeps seeing you every time you’re around and you started weaseling your way into his head at every hour of the day

he’d never admit that though (yet), so he’s still gonna keep up his playboy act for a bit but you’re gonna pick up that he’s being closer to you like making small jokes with you and being a little nicer

god it took you so long but he finally let you squeeze through his shell enough to be relatively close friends for a while but this definitely became a “do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways” situation

yes the feeling did flow both ways, too bad he was still a player and you didn’t wanna ruin anything so you just endlessly flirted with each other

i am 92% sure he came to you first at an afterparty absolutely wasted and told you in german “du bist so unglaublich schön und ich will dich so sehr.” you are so infuriatingly beautiful and i want you so bad.

unfortunately, bill had to translate for you

i’ve been talking a lot so i’ll try to sum up a relationship with him and add miscellaneous points

he makes an effort to act like a boyfriend in your relationship, like he doesn’t openly flirt with other people out of genuine respect for you

first date was something like you two staying over at one of your houses for the night like a sleepover or doing something in the city

he has never forgotten any important day for you. never. and on that topic, he’ll get gifts for those days nearly months in advance

he appreciates a person with aesthetic

i’m lying, tom would fall head over heels in love if you wear something even remotely close to his style

nsfw

tom is a dog, y’all have seen the way he talks about what he wants to do during sex but he’s the most respectful person someone could probably ever ask for, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to pause everything if you told him you felt a little uncomfortable

the type of guy to fake bang you from behind when you bend over to grab something.

he’d spit in your mouth, having you kneel in front of him and holding your jaw open by squeezing it then making you swallow it if you wanted to be touched at all

this almost isn’t a headcanon but he’s a tit guy, regardless of size he’d froth at the mouth just to hold them

there’s not a big dom/sub thing between you two but he’s a switch because i said so

y’all… his favorite position is doggy or prone bone doesn’t matter as long as he gets to pull you by your neck up to him

a/n ; wow. didn’t think i could write something like this but i have a lot more so lmk if i should make a part 2?

© ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO VICKYZANGELS. do not steal, repost, plagiarize, or use my work for anything.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

can i request Remus x best friend!reader where they have a fight and it leads to them confessing their feelings? would love angst with either fluff or smut ending

i hope you like it!! thank you for requesting the boy and trope i was just in the mood for! (btw i don't do smut for anon requests, but happily post it as anon if you've messaged me so i know it's not for a minor)

pairing: Remus x reader

tags: best friends to lovers, angst, fluff, keeping up with my bookish! Remus and reader fixation, gn 

word count: 2.7k

“Hi,” you whisper into his neck as his arms squeeze around you.

“Hey.” He smiles as he pulls back from your greeting hug. “How are you?” he asks as you begin walking, leaving his arm around your shoulders. 

“Good. I had the craziest dream last night; I was pretty disappointed to wake up to be honest,” you begin enthusiastically. “Till you remembered you had plans with me, right?”

You playfully nudge Remus from within his embrace, and though rolling your eyes as you do, you say, “Obviously,” with a smirk. 

“Great,” he chuckles. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, you can tell me about the dream.” You laugh together as you delve into it on your walk to the bookshop.

You and Remus are browsing — reading the blurbs, looking at the cool covers and curated shelves and tables, laughing lightheartedly, chatting about the ones you’d each read already or wanted to read next. It’s nice, one of your preferred ways of spending an afternoon: one of your favourite places, with your favourite person. 

“Alright,” you tell him seriously. “Time for the painful bit.” You plop your stack of selections in front of him. He gives them an exaggeratedly serious stare.

“Hm. How many do we have to cut it down to?” 

“Three,” you say solemnly. “Maybe four…” after a pause and another longing look at the stack. He grins at you. “Been saving up,” you shrug.

Remus helps you choose, and with your final cut, you go over to the till. You swallow when you notice who’s working it: the rather attractive boy who’d been working the last few times you’d been at the shop. He had beautiful brown eyes, brown hair, a kind of gloomy look, and was always wearing cosy-looking jumpers. You’re a bit nervous when it’s your turn, and you place the books down in between you with only a quick glance and awkward grin his way. He says something to you, and for some reason, it throws you off a bit but makes you decidedly less nervous. 

“Thanks,” you respond, realizing he was complimenting your selection. He’d done that last time too. 

“You come here a lot, huh?” he asks, and it hits you: he sounds nothing like Remus. 

Why the hell does that matter? you think to yourself. 

“I remember you. From last time,” he goes on at your silence. 

You only like him because he reminds of you Remus, a little voice whispers in your head. Ugh, shut up, you push it down.

“Yeah,” you smile. “My best friend and I come here all the time,” you tell him, looking back toward Remus at “best friend.” You notice Remus glaring in your direction and find it odd but look back at the boy. He’s smiling more widely now, nodding as he rings up the books. 

He’s finished up, and you’re turning to go when he adds, “Wait!” He grabs one from the stack of free bookmarks with the shop name and number, and he writes another phone number on it. “One can never have too many bookmarks, right?” he smiles at you, offering it to you. “I like it seeing you around here,” he shrugs. “Maybe I can see you somewhere else sometime though?” 

You grin, surely blushing, take the bookmark, and say, “Yeah, maybe. Thanks.” You go over to the door to wait for Remus, who’s getting a book at the other till. You walk out together; he’s scowling. 

It feels weird to tell him about this; you’re not sure why… Because you’re in love with him… Again, Shut up! But you tell him everything, and besides, you’re actually quite excited. 

“You’re not going to believe what just happened.”

“Hm?” he offers with disinterest, not even looking at you. “Look.” You show him the bookmark. He looks interested now. 

“He gave you this?” he shoots. You nod, biting your lip in a giddy shyness. “Are you going to call him?” Remus asks with a sharp edge to his tone. 

“I don’t know… Maybe? He seems nice.” “You’ve hardly even spoken to him. You have no idea if he’s ‘nice.’” The last word comes out sardonic, and it makes you wince. You don’t notice him wincing too. You shrug and grab the bookmark back, and the two of you continue your walk in silence. 

You’re meeting your friends at the pub, and you’re grateful James and Sirius are already sitting at a nice outdoor table when you arrive, eager to escape the tense silence with Remus. “Hello, my favourite nerds. How was the bookshop?” Sirius teases, smiling at you both.

“Good,” you grin; Remus just shrugs. “What’s with you?” Sirius notices. “Nothing,” Remus grunts and goes inside to the bar. Immediately just turning to you, Sirius asks, “What’s with him?” “I don’t know.” You sound sad. “You always know. It’s creepy sometimes, the two of you; it’s like you read each other’s minds,” then, in a cheeky tone, “usually.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You’re snappier than you meant to be. 

“Nothing,” he cedes, but he gives you a knowing look that makes you nervous. You keep glaring at him, and he just chuckles and gives you a quick side hug.

Remus is silent and brooding for the duration of the evening, Sirius and James having given up after several failed attempts at conversation with him. Occasionally, you catch him looking at you, but — quite atypically — you can’t read his expression, and he always looks away when you notice. He doesn’t seem to be hiding his looks, just avoiding moments with you when you look back… and it’s really getting under your skin. 

“Anyone got a light?” Sirius asks, patting down his jacket, a cig already dangling from his lips. “I might,” you respond. You’re wearing your go-to jacket, so there’s a good chance you have the lighter you use for the occasional blunt. Feeling around in your pockets, you pull out the contents and absentmindedly put a couple things down in front of you. “What’s this then?” You can hear the smirk in Sirius’s voice before even looking at him. You’re mortified when he picks up the bookmark.  “Maybe your bookshop isn’t as boring as I thought. Aren’t you cheeky?” he chuckles at you, shaking it between you.

You snatch it from him and say, “It’s nothing.” “Oh, c’mon. There’s nothing wrong with that. Is he fit?” Before you can stop yourself, you look over at Remus. You look away quickly — not missing Remus’s glower — but Sirius notices anyway, looks at him too then back at you, his grin not leaving his face. “What d’you think, mate?” he asks Remus, and your eyes go wide in warning, but Sirius either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Remus gives a “don’t care” frown and shrug. “What? No opinion on Y/N’s new boyfriend?” Sirius continues. Remus scoffs and gives a cynical laugh, and to your surprise, your hurt at his behaviour all afternoon interlaces with anger at this. 

“What?” you snap, and Remus immediately looks to you, some surprise in his eyes, no longer avoiding your gaze. “Is it laughable that someone would like me?” The mood has safely made its way into awkwardness, but you don’t care. “What’s so funny about someone wanting to be my boyfriend, Remus?” He doesn’t say anything. “You’ve been such a prick all afternoon,” you tell him, collecting your things. You turn to Sirius, saying, “Cover me, will you? I’ll pay you back tomorrow.” You’ve already started walking away by the time he nods. 

Your eyes are puffy from crying last night when you wake, the memory of last night’s events hitting you like an ice bath. You grunt and roll over, trying — but failing miserably — not to dwell on it. Until you remember something else.

“Fuck.” You had plans with Remus today. You’d agreed to meet at the park to start the books you’d bought yesterday. You’re not sure what to do. Do you show up like nothing happened? Do you not show up and escalate things? Or, scariest of all, do you show up and address what the hell happened?

After changing your mind several times, you opt to at least show up. What’ll happen after that, you leave to the moment. When the time comes, you get ready and head over. 

You’re surprised at how surprised you are to see Remus already there, sitting on the grass. Had you really expected him not to show? You hadn’t had the thought consciously — you would’ve almost certainly freaked out if you had — but your palpable relief informs you you’d been terrified at the possibility. It would’ve been so unlike him; you normally would never have even entertained the idea. But his behaviour last night confused you, and not being on the same page as him filled you with confusion and dread.

He notices you, gives you a strained smile; you return one in turn. 

“Hey.” “Hi.”

You linger awkwardly above him before sitting down next to him, a bit further than you usually would have. The silence seems to follow your cue, elongating itself in a way that never happened with Remus. 

He’s fiddling with the grass, not looking at you when he finally says, “About last night…” You take a deep breath, and it gets caught in your chest when his gaze meets yours. “I…” He clears his throat, looks down again, then back up at you. “I’m sorry.” You nod slowly, still just staring at him. 

Before you can think about whether it’s a good idea or not, you say, “Why were you being so weird?”

“You really don’t know?” He doesn’t sound as soft as he did during his apology. 

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be asking.” You’re harsher too. 

He groans and, no longer looking at you, whisper-yells, “Fuck, you’re difficult sometimes.” You scoff and cringe away from him. 

“‘Difficult?’ I’m difficult? You’re the one being a prick for seemingly no reason, Rem. And now you’re blaming me?” “I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying —”

“What?” you snap. “What are you saying? Because it seems to me that you’re never saying anything, Remus. Whenever anything tense happens, you never say anything.” 

“Neither do you! What do you want me to say?!” “Yes I do!” “No, you don’t.” 

You glare at each other in electric silence.

You grab your bag and stand up. 

“I don’t really feel like reading anymore,” you offer lamely, seething. He stands up too, following you. 

“You see?! I don’t say anything, but at least I don’t fucking run away every time.” You spin to face him, and it’s so quick, you end up really close to each other before he stops fast-walking toward you. You can hear his heavy breathing, see his nostrils flaring as he scowls. 

“Run away?”

“Yeah.” It’s mean but certain. “Run away,” he repeats.

“What’s that supposed to fucking mean? It’s not like you can’t stop me… Or at least give me a fucking call afterward.” You sound hurt at the end, and Remus winces knowingly. 

“I was going to. I was. I just didn’t know what to say.” 

“Typical. Fucking typical.” You turn to keep walking away. 

He groans loudly in exasperation and walks faster to stand in front of you, cutting you off. “Can you just fucking wait one second?” He runs his hand roughly over his face, harshly through his messy hair. You quirk an eyebrow at him expectantly. 

When he doesn’t say anything for a few moments, you say, “That was more than one second,” and start walking again. 

“Stop. For fuck’s sake, just stop.” He stands in front of you again. “Why? It’s not like you’re saying anything.” Then, more softly, “And I don’t like fighting with you, okay? Maybe that’s why I ‘run away.’” The last two words still manage to sound sarcastic, but you’re whispering by the end, and you look down sadly. “Why don’t you say anything? Why does it have to be me?” He takes a tentative step forward and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. You look into his eyes, and tears well in yours. One falls, and his thumb comes up to wipe it off. You push his hand away but don’t let go of it. He lets you hold his hand, and you stare down at where you’re connected rather than look at him. 

“I don’t like fighting with you,” you repeat, whispering. He steps a bit closer to you. “I hate fighting with you,” he says firmly. “But you know what’s worse?” You look up at him and shake your head subtly. “The moment after you leave. Being without you. Especially if I know you’re upset or… angry with me.” He looks up at the sky, takes a deep breath, looks at you again. “All I want to do is comfort you. Apologize. Tell you the truth…,” he says desperately. “But I don’t.” This comes out harsh; the anger back in his voice but no longer directed at you. “Because I’m an idiot… But I’d choose fighting with you over being without you every time.” 

“Those can’t be the only two options.” Your voice is soft. He gives a quiet but honest chuckle. Then his face sets seriously, determination creeping into his features.

“Ask me again.” “Ask you what?”

“Why I was being such a prick last night.” “So you admit you were a prick?” “Y/N,” he whines. “For fuck’s sake.” “Okay, okay, sorry,” you say quickly. “Why were you being such a prick last night?”

“Because… I…,” he starts but gets stuck. “When you…” He shakes his head. “I…” He closes his eyes and whispers, “Fuck.” He opens them, looks back and forth between yours, takes a step closer to you. He brings his hand that’s not in yours up to your face, brings his forehead to rest on yours. He nudges your nose with his, caresses your cheek. “Y/N,” he whispers, all the frustration replaced by something much warmer. You shift the tiny bit necessary to connect your lips with his. His hands tighten, and his lips push softly but firmly back.

You take a deep breath in, like breathing him will fill you with life… and it does. You open your mouth, and you feel a groan in his chest where it’s flush with yours as he licks his tongue against yours. You let go of his hand to hold his face firmly in both of yours, pulling him into you. His arms wrap around your hips, pulling you into his lower half as his upper half chases your mouth. You kiss and kiss and kiss, soft but hungry, until you finally part, only your lips detaching from each other, the rest of your bodies still connected. Your thumbs rub his cheeks; his hands squeeze your hips; your noses bump into each other. 

“You still haven’t said anything…” you whisper. You expect him to retort that neither have you, to joke or complain or jokingly complain. 

Instead, after a gruff chuckle, he says, “I love you.” He turns his embrace into a full hug, his arms firmly around you, his head in the crook of your neck. You cling to him. 

“You’re my best friend, Y/N,” he goes on. “My best friend in the fucking world.” He leans back a bit to be able to look into your eyes as he goes on. “But you’re so much more than that too. You’re the fucking love of my life,” he says with a heartfelt chuckle. “And I am done not telling you that.” You bring his mouth to yours again, kissing him deeply.

“You’re mine too. I promise I won’t run away anymore. I’m sorry I —” 

“Don’t,” he cuts you off with a kiss, shaking his head. “I wish I’d told you sooner, but I’ve loved every minute with you. And now we have the rest of our lives to do this too.” With a cheeky smile, he kisses you again.

“I love you,” you tell him. He squeezes you tight and keeps kissing you. 

[boorines]

hi !! thoughts on mean, cocky dom!jeonghan? i feel like he’d be soo teasing and frustrating

anon .. what have u done to me…

warnings/tags: fem reader, established relationship, cocky dom!jeonghan, he’s so mean, pussy slapping, use of slut and whore, profanity, dacryphilia just a tiny bit, orgasm delay, creampie, cumplay. smut. MDNI.

—

dom!jeonghan makes sure you know exactly whom you belong to, chuckling derisively when he hears your needy, high-pitched moans.

“use your fucking words, baby”, he’d whisper against the shell of your ear, dragging a finger painfully slow down your stomach. smirking when he feels your back arch into his touch.

“j-jeonghan…”, you manage to choke out, but he isn’t satisfied.

“your words, slut. i haven’t even fucking touched you yet”, he growls. “keep acting like this and i won’t”.

“i’m s-sorry, please. fuck me, jeonghan. please”, you whimper. you feel his fingers trace patterns on your inner thigh, before landing a harsh slap on your dripping cunt.

“fuck! god, jeonghan. p-please!”

“my pretty girl has such a dirty fucking mouth”, he breathes, delivering another sharp slap to your pussy. “and yet, can’t use the right name, hm?”

“no, please! d-daddy, please”, tears well up in your eyes as obscene moans spill out of your mouth.

“you sound so pretty begging for me, i almost feel bad”, jeonghan mock pouts. “is daddy being too mean?”, he adds condescendingly, no sympathy in his voice.

“j-just need daddy to fuck me. want to feel full”, you babble.

“fuck, you’d look so pretty stuffed full of my cum, wouldn’t you?”, he groans when he sees you buck your hips off the bed. “my little slut is so needy, feel how fucking hard you’re making daddy”, you don’t have a chance to respond before you feel the tip of his cock push against your folds. he’s so big it makes your mouth loll open, mewls sounding like sin tumbling out.

you’re not thinking straight, you can’t when your knees are pushed against your chest and jeonghan is drilling into you mercilessly. the wet squelch of his cock splitting you open joins the obscene, needy moans filling the room. one of his hands wrapped firmly around your thigh, two fingers on his other stuffed into your mouth. with every thrust, his length kisses the gummy spot inside your slick cunt and his fingers fuck deeper into your throat.

“my pretty whore can’t even talk like this”, he grunts, hair falling into his eyes. the pathetic sounds you make around his fingers make him want to ruin you. “yeah? fuck, baby you look so gorgeous being fucked dumb. do your fingers make you feel this full?”

the guttural sound you make sends him reeling, feeling his high getting closer. he’d make you cum first, he always does, but his plans for you tonight are very different.

“i’m going to fill you up”, he grunts, “you’re gonna take it, and you are not allowed to cum, got it?”

you nod weakly, willing to take whatever he’ll give you. he thrusts into you, harder but sloppier, and you feel his hips stutter against you. your juices coat your thighs and soak jeonghan’s cock, the tip abusing the spongy spot in your walls. you keep yourself from your high as you feel jeonghan’s warm cum spurt inside your heat, choking out a lewd moan.

“i don’t want a drop wasted”, he demands, pulling out of you slowly. he removes his fingers from your mouth and all you can muster is a weak ‘yes, daddy’, feeling empty and desperate.

“fuck yourself open on your fingers”, he instructs. your eyes fly open, looking at him in surprise. he quirks a brow up at the sudden action. “now, slut. and keep my cum inside you, i want you to feel it”.

you whimper as you bring your fingers to your entrance, letting out a low whine when you push in. jeonghan’s cum threatens to ooze out of your tight hole, but you can’t he said, and you hastily fuck it back in before it spills. you hear him grunt in approval and look up to see him push his hair off his forehead, eyes piercing your spread thighs. the sight of him is enough to make you whine with need.

“d-daddy, please, please, let me cum”, you beg, “i need you inside me”.

jeonghan chuckles, “i am inside you, pretty”.

the words are so lewd, so filthy because he is. he’s inside you and you’re filled with him.

heat creeps up into your cheeks as you pump your fingers into yourself, the squelch of his cum inside you making you mewl.

“you blushing, baby? we feeling shy?”, he taunts, grabbing your wrist and brutally shoving your hand into yourself, driving your fingers deeper into you. he watches hungrily as his cum leaks out of your hole, dripping down your ass and staining the sheets below you. “push that back in, slut”.

“god, fuck! please, i can’t anymore, i need you”, you struggle. you’re so desperate for him, needing him to fuck you dumb.

“i love it when you touch yourself like this, knowing you can’t get there without me”, he seems drunk on you, on your little noises.

he inches closer, getting ready to reward you for your obedience.

“you’ve done so good, baby. let me make it up to you, yeah?”, jeonghan whispers against your ear condescendingly.

and you know you’ll finally get what you need.

[i-care-4u]

more central cee pls !

FACE TO FACE | CENTRAL CEE

PAIR: CENTRAL CEE X READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

TAGGED: @playboykenz

A/N: to the two anons that asked for more central cee, i hope you enjoy this little fic i wrote!

FACE TO FACE SERIES: jack harlow | central cee

-

as the cameras were getting ready, oakley couldn’t help but to giggle about the fact that his girlfriend was going to interview him.

this was something you loved doing with oakley at home. coming from work, you and oakley would be having long nights together, answering and giggling about each other’s answers. this time, the public was going to watch this, and oakley felt comfortable sharing his answers to them.

you introduced yourself to everyone, “hello gq, i’m y/n l/n, and today i’ll be asking a set of questions to central cee.”

in front of you, there was a laptop, with oakley being in front of your screen. you start the call, “hi cench.”

oakley blushed, “hi y/n.”

“today we get to share to everyone what we do at home,” you show the cameras the set of cards filled with questions, “the couple’s quiz!”

-

☆ FIRST QUESTION - “HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF IN THREE WORDS?”

“three words,” oakley starts saying words that came in mind, “focused, candid….”

you nod, using this as a sign to keep going. “come on, one more, one more!”

oakley immediately went back to thinking mode. you lay your head down, trying not to burst into laughter. you raised your head afterwards, “you want me to help you out?”

“of course,” oakley said, with a charming smile at you.

“cee.”

“yes?”

with a straight face, you admit, “i think you’re very cute.”

“focused, candid, and cute it is.”

☆ SECOND QUESTION - “FIVE ESSENTIALS?”

for this question, the staff brought in the items, and oakley removes his chain in order to showcase it to everyone. “obviously, we have to go with this one first.”

you tried not to brag, but you let it slide since you’re his girlfriend, “picked by the best.”

oakley nods in agreement, “mhm.”

he then showcased the watch on his wrist, “another one picked by y/n, and it’s this watch.”

he then explains three other objects: headphones, crackers, and a book.

“i have two headphones - one i use for the gym and the other during my spare time,” oakley pulled a bag of crackers close to the camera, “these crackers were gifted by my mum in christmas, they’re so delicious.”

he smiled as he showed everyone a book. the book was very special to him, as it was another gift - this time it was from you to him. “this book is gifted by y/n, and i love to carry it on the road. i still remember those words, telling me it’s a reminder of love.”

“it’s like you’re carrying a piece of me, you know?”

☆ THIRD QUESTION - “WHAT’S THE MOST ROMANTIC THING YOU’VE EVER DONE?”

sarcastically, oakley answered, “i’m a hopeless romantic…”

you jokingly glared at him, “really?”

“i don’t know man, i’m transitioning, i’m changing. this is all hard for me like i’m trying to think-”

“boo hoo,” you mocked, “it was so hard for you. why don’t you just grow up?”

oakley admits, “it’s easier said than done.”

☆ FOURTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S YOUR SELF CARE ROUTINE?”

oakley repeated the question, “my self care routine?”

you looked down at the card, “yes.”

“my self care routine consists of sleeping, waking up to do my skin care, going to the studio,” oakley gets into detail, “people don’t tend add that, but music is a form of self care. it’s enjoyable and arguably, a form of therapy.”

“i can see where you’re coming from, and i agree,” you comment, “music is universal.”

☆ FIFTH QUESTION - “FAVORITE LYRIC?”

oakley shrugs, “god knows.”

“i don’t know that one.”

“do you swear on the shore?” oakley asked you.

“yeah,” you nod, “shit.”

he laughs, and you added, “crumbs.”

oakley continued laughing at your nonsense, “what?”

you lied, “i swear all the time, okay?”

oakley knew it wasn’t true at all, leaving it with a simple response. “okay,” he shook his head, “it’s not that attractive though is it?”

as a joke, you tried to impress your boyfriend, slamming your hands on the table. “okay, i don’t swear!”

☆ SIXTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE RED CARPET LOOK FROM ME?”

oakley leaned on the chair. “ooh, this is a tough one. am i allowed to say my favorite runway look?”

“nope.”

“just red carpet.”

“yes.” you got close to the webcam, and the only thing that showed up on oakley’s screen was your eyes and forehead. “…say it!”

he picked his top five looks of yours, “as of right now, i would have to go with your mtv video music awards from 2022, the met gala look from 2022, and last year and this year’s grammys look.

“and you got to thank law roach for the styling.” you start giving him a round of applause.

☆ SEVENTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE CELEBRITY ENCOUNTER?”

oakley recounts, “apologies y/n, but i got to tell the funny one.”

you blankly stare at him, “the one where we met drake?”

“yes,” oakley smirked. he starts telling the story behind it, “so we went to this festival, and drake decided to invite us to the after party. during the party, he was on his phone scrolling on instagram, and that’s when he showed me a picture of y/n. he was like, who is this, she’s so pretty? that’s when i answered him, saying that it was y/n, who was right there. she didn’t say anything, but rather laughed about the whole situation.”

you add, “he was definitely drunk there, and he was surprised by my appearance at the party afterwards.”

☆ EIGTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S SOMETHING ABOUT ME THAT PEOPLE DON’T KNOW?”

“i think people should pay attention to what i’m about to say,” oakley exposes your hobby, “but y/n loves gardening.”

you playfully rolled your eyes at him, believing that it’s not that big of deal as he makes. “why are you making it such a big deal? leave me and my plants out of this!”

“i find it very cute though,” oakley visualizes, “walking outside to see you watering your plants. i can name some from the top of my head.”

you crossed your arms, having a smug look. “oh really?” you scoffed.

“yeah.”

oakley starts listing names of your plants, causing you to be left with a speechless face that was soon filled with laughter.

reflecting at this question, you also found it cute that oakley remembered your not-so-secret hobby of gardening. the way he remembered the names of your plants indicated his love language.

☆ NINTH QUESTION - “WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WERE ME FOR A DAY?”

“what would y/n do?” oakley asked himself as you listened.

as soon as he came up with the idea, he shared it in front of everyone, “if i were you for a day, i think i would head down to the studio and try to make music.”

“smart,” you recall, “i’ve always wanted to make music for a long time, but i think we’re good as a model for now.”

“new date idea,” oakley states, “make music with y/n.��

“that sounds lovely.”

☆ TENTH QUESTION - “WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO EVERYONE RIGHT NOW?”

“this one’s a bit cliche but my thing is live yours,” oakley said, “that’s what’s inspiring innit.”

you agree to his piece of advice, “so basically express yourself?”

“correct.”

-

the tenth questioned marked the end of the interview and was left with one more scene to record.

the cameras starts recording oakley, “if you want to see me ask y/n these questions face to face, go to vogue.com.”

“thank you to gq for being involved in this conversation between central cee and i. thank you for watching!” you waved to the camera. the video cues to a white screen, placing the names of the people involved.

after the interview, oakley waited for you to exit the studio. when you saw him, you gave him a tight hug. “you were amazing!”

“thank you!” oakley smiled, “you know what sounds more amazing? bringing you to the studio right now.”

“you and your bad flirting skills,” you sarcastically rolled your eyes at him, “but a studio date sounds nice right now.”

[namspilot]

hi! this is on anon (because i don’t have an f1 blog) so I can’t attach links, but you asked for gpda strike fics and i love the gpda and eat up fics that mention it! so im going to include the full titles and authors’ names of various ao3 fics that fit your request (of which there are really not very many that I know of, sorry :/)

firstly, a note - if you are interested in fics that deal with the 1982 GPDA Strike (which actually got the union disbanded for some time), there is an officially wrangled ao3 tag for that event with a few fics: “1982 Formula 1 Drivers’ Strike”.

outside of that tag, i have only found 2 modern strike fics! unfortunately both rpf so if you’re not a fan of that then there’s not much out there for you

“have your words and eat them too,” peppermintstreets [longer and not strictly about a strike, focuses on striking/union activities as well as a pretty thick sebchal plot, so if you don’t like shipping/rpf, avoid this one]

“Like A Pawn Checkmates A King,” Meova [ironically ALSO sebchal though this one is more focused on strike activities, also a longer one, less shippy than the first one but still avoid if you don’t like rpf]

outside of THAT there are 2 drivers’ protest fics I know about (and one that I know exists but cannot find anywhere)… also both rpf.

“Fuck the FIA,” dropofaurum [recent fic about Max’s swearing punishment, involves the drivers protesting but also involves lestappen]

“it’s not queerbaiting, it’s saving the world,” buildyourfences [lestappen are outed in a photo of them making out, george proposes that various drivers kiss each other on camera, but the fic is much more focused on landoscar kissing each other for the protest and then getting together at the end than the protest itself]

i can’t find this anywhere but i know for a fact there’s a fic somewhere that’s about Lewis coming out (or maybe being outed) and all of the grid giving him kisses in the paddock to show support, and it’s much less ship focused than the above fic despite having a similar premise and 1000% more kisses lmfao

so yeah sorry I don’t have more and there’s not much variety,,,,, but I ALSO love gpda/union fics so figured I’d offer up what I had :]

oh my goodness anon I LOVE YOU!!!! I hope both sides of your pillow are always cold!! thank you so much for your time and your research, I can't wait to read them!! 💘💘💘 also, no need to worry about them being rpf seeing as I write rpf myself 😙😎

I'll add links to the fics in this post so anyone who's interested can check them out with me!

Here's the 1982 Formula One Driver's Strike AO3 Tag.

Modern Strike Fics:

have your words and eat them too by peppermintstreets, sebchal

In 2024, an accident at Spa and Wurz's simultaneous absence forces Sebastian to fulfill the role as GPDA chairman. And really, who thought high-speed racing and sausage kerbs were a good combination? As time keeps ticking and the discovery of a mole comes to light, the looming threat of a strike grows stronger as a desperate means to counter the FIA's wrath. It wasn't a matter of if, but when.

Like a Pawn Checkmates a King by Meova, sebchal

When a provisional calendar for 2025 gets leaked, Sebastian is shocked to see 27 races on there. That can't be right.  Getting all of the drivers to agree something must be done is surprisingly easy. Actually getting something done... isn't. They'll have to take matters into their own hands, then.

Driver's Protest Fics:

Fuck the FIA by dropofaurum, lestappen

It was bullshit. Mohammed bin Sulayem, the FIA, the Red Bull car, the McLaren flexi wing. All bullshit. Most importantly, the fact that drivers can’t swear on radios and interviews is bullshit. or, the 2024 grid stages a protest by all swearing in their native languages.

it’s not queerbaiting, it’s saving the world by buildyourfences, landoscar

Lando bursts into Oscar’s room without knocking. He’s red in the face and panting, sweat collecting on his forehead like he just ran a marathon. “You need to kiss me.” or, the drivers stage a protest, of sorts. Oscar might lose his mind.

and no. 3 sounds like it could be this one!!:

an ode to political statements by this_is_my_associate_mr_mc_clap_yo_handz, lewis/everyone

Lewis comes out. The FIA… don’t take it very well.

I'm so excited to dive into these! and a note to authors, i messaged some of you about sharing these links just to be safe but i figured that my 18+ rpf tumblr blog counts as a safe space. however, if any of y'all want your link taken down, just message me and i'll do so, no questions asked! alternatively, if you want me to tag your tumblr accounts lmk and i can do that too!!

[most-tragic-character-tournament]

So,

What a wild ride, everybody.

This tournament went live on July 13th, 3023, and concluded January 1st, 2024. For a long time before, I’d been wondering if I should try my hand at running one of these tournaments, and then I realized we hadn’t had a general tumblr-wide one for tragic characters. I knew that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I decided to bite the bullet and take the URL. The rest is history.

I didn’t have a set plan, but I figured I could take 128 entries. And then in less than a week and a half, I had ~122. And honestly, I wasn’t happy continuing with just those I’d gotten so far, and thought it’d be unfair if it closed that quickly without warning, so I decided to up it to 256 with a max 2 characters per canon after preliminaries. Only after that did I go on a mad search to find brackets that were big enough for that, and I’d almost given up before I finally found these:

Those are all the characters that made it past prelims and into the competition. Some quite unexpected results came out of these matchups, round after round, and honestly I’d consider the first round to have had the most brutal competitions, because I had tried to do the best I could to match levels of popularity with each other, as far as I could tell. (Yeah, that’s why we had c!Tommy v Jon Sims and Primrose v Jinx.). But even eclipsing all of those, as the weeks went on, we were eventually met with Antigone versus Lloyd Garmadon. Ah, those crazy kids.

At some points it was stressful, in the early rounds when I had dozens of posts, each with edited images and alt text, to prepare for every round, but I never regretted starting this. As of posting, this blog has 2,020 followers and has made over 1,000 posts. This will be the last post on this blog—any future asks I receive I will answer privately back to the asker, or cannot be answered if they are anon—but it will always remain here for posterity. The link below is to the similarly-preserved google sheet compiling every word of every submission this tournament ever received.

I’d like to take this chance to say thank you to everyone who submitted characters, supplied photos, sent in propaganda, reblogged the polls, indoctrinated their teachers into greeklitsweep, and everyone who kept good sportsmanship when their blorbos proved so tragic they couldn’t even win. Thank you to the small group of URLs whom I’ve consistently recognized in my inbox from submissions all the way to finals, thank you for letting me know when a name was messed up, and thank you for your patience in-between rounds. (Shoutout to @elemom as well for having their tiktok on the original antigone/lloyd poll blow up.)

If you’ve stumbled upon this blog weeks, months, or even years after this was posted, I would direct your attention to the tag map in the pinned post to sift through the tumblr history you’ve just uncovered. And I would also be tempted to point at the big sign next to it reciting the nuclear zone warning poem. Lastly, if anyone here or there wishes to talk to me about anything regarding the tournament, you’re welcome to DM @twilight-skies.

There were times when I said to myself this was a one-and-done thing—I was NOT dealing with this again, but….keep a look on the horizon, ya never know.

But until next time, it’s been amazing.

Sayonara you weeaboo shits.

[pepsiconcoction]

Discounted Cookies | Han Jisung x Reader

pairing: barista!han jisung x gn!reaer

tags: coffee shop au, a little bit of angst, minor language, jisung is a lil flirt, reader doesn't wanna put up with it, fluff, no smut

requested? yes! by anon xox

an: i actually don't know how i feel about this, but it's cute regardless, anon i hope i captured what u meant, i tried my best to get reader to be Annoyed but i love jisung too much, sorry ;-;

wc: 3,890

4 times Jisung flirted with you + 1 time you flirted with him.

The first time you see him.

It’s a few minutes past midnight and you think this might be your end. You’re going to pass out, for sure. You had been studying at the library for the past 7 hours straight for an exam worth 60% of your grade. Studying Law was definitely a choice. Specifically, it was the choice you made two and a half years ago, resulting in you, at this moment, halfway through your third year and on the brink of a breakdown. The breakdown? Partially caused by your ex-boyfriend, who had just broken up with you no more than five days ago. You’re fine. People keep asking. You really wish they would stop.

In the distance, you spot a flood of warm, yellow light flooding out of a shop window. As you get closer, you recognise it’s a coffee shop, you think it may even be the one your friend had told you about, saying it was her favourite place to study as it’s open 24 hours. It seems tonight is the night you’re finally going to check it out.

It’s kind of snowy at your feet, thanks to the early month of the year, but you wish it was more picturesque and not just the grey slush that you think you can feel leaking through your boots. At least it’ll be nice to get some warmth for a few minutes.

You push open the door, a small bell jingling above your head, and the warmth hits you like a wall, suffocating in its intensity. There’s only one other person in here: an old trucker-looking guy, face held over a steaming cup of coffee. 

“I’ll be out in a second!” You hear a man shout from behind the counter, you guess he’s even further in the back than you can see. You hear a small commotion that sounds a bit like someone stamping on a cardboard box. A few seconds later, a guy appears, slightly dishevelled and running his hands through his hair as he exhales. His hair parts in the middle and brushes his eyebrows, slightly longer around the edges, as if gone uncut for a few months. A friendly face with round cheeks looks at you, a grin appearing on his face. He brushes down his apron and makes his way to the counter.

“Sorry about that, what can I get ya?” he asks.

“Just an Americano to go, please,” You smile back at him.

“Can I offer you any discounted sweet treats?” He gestures to an almost empty cake counter. “They’re discounted because it’s so late, not because they’re bad.” He quickly adds on. You spot a singular chocolate cookie looking very lonely.

“Sure, I’ll take the cookie,” you say, gesturing to it. 

“Good choice, madam.” He nods his head, punching it into the register.

“Can I take a name?”

“Do you need it?” You ask, looking around at the empty store.

“Not really, but I’d like it.” He shrugs.

“Y/n,” you sigh. This isn’t what you were looking for at the moment, but you decide to just let it go.

“Not having a good day?” he asks, seemingly concerned.

“Not having a good week,” you say flatly, hoping to communicate your disinterest.

“Well, Y/n, feel free to take a seat and I’ll bring it over to you once it’s done.” He grins again and spins around, getting to work on the coffee machine. God, who even has this much energy this late at night? Crazy people, that’s who.

You sit down at one of the tables, taking out your phone and it reads 12:17am. It feels like it’s mocking you. You scroll through your socials, attempting to keep what small semblance of a social life you think you have together, but a few minutes later, a familiar barista comes into your view. You stand up, accepting the coffee from him and he hands you the cookie which is now in a brown, paper bag.

“One Americano, and one discounted cookie.” He hands you each and you stand up, thanking him. 

“And maybe a little extra something, since you’re having a bad week and all,” he adds quietly, shuffling on his feet slightly. You peek inside the bag and notice a candy bar, something chocolatey. 

“Thank you,” You stutter, not expecting the kind gesture.

“Come back again soon!” He says, already heading back to the counter where he starts to mess with something, in a clear attempt to look busy. You turn and 

leave. Despite the cold air outside, there is an unfamiliar warmth in your body.

The second time you see him.

You wake up the next day, surprisingly on time despite the lack of alarm. It’s only 10am and you mentally prepare yourself for the day ahead of you. The exam is in 5 days. Thankfully you’re studying at home today, not needing the library for today’s subjects. The state of your flat reflects your mind, it’s a mess, dishes in the sink, clothes piling up next to the dryer. After an hour or so of quick chores, it’s in a slightly better state, good enough to study in, you think.

And study, you do. Day turns to night and you find yourself closing the last page of a textbook, letting out a deep breath. You could feel your anxiety beginning to fizzle around your body, not fully convinced you’ve properly ingested all the revision you’ve done. You need some food. The second half of a pizza is sitting untouched from earlier and you kinda feel bad for it, poor thing. Your eyes flicker towards the candy bar sitting on your desk, where it was abandoned last night and you think about the guy from the coffee shop. You throw on a slightly warmer outfit and you definitely don’t spend the walk to the coffee shop thinking about whether he might be working. To your surprise, he is.

You can see him behind the counter from outside, he’s pouring frothed milk into a cup, presumably for the customer standing at the counter. It’s slightly busier at this time, you’re not surprised considering it’s only just coming up to 8pm. You push open the door and the bell jingles like it did the night before. He looks up, looking past the customer in front and his mouth quirks up into a smile, recognising you instantly. You look around him, at the large menu boards, you don’t want to give him an ego. 

The customer in front pays for their drink and leaves, and the man’s smile finally points directly at you.

“Hello again, Y/n, what can I get you today?” He grins at you, eyes crinkling. You’re surprised he remembers your name.

“A latte, please,” you say, glancing up at the menu.

“To go, or sit in?” His eyebrow quirks.

“Oh, uh-”

“You’re sitting in,” he answers for you, already punching it into the register.

“Fine.” Your roll your eyes. 

“Take a seat.” He gestures to the barstool-type seating a little further down the counter. You’re not really sure why you actually sit down.

“Is your week any better?” He looks over his shoulder as he makes your drink.

“Not really, no.” You respond. He pauses in his actions, looking at you expectingly.

“Are you going to tell me what’s up?” 

“We don’t know each other,” you said, eyebrows furrowing.

“Okay, so my name is Jisung, Han Jisung, and today, I’m your barista. Tomorrow, maybe more!” He winks as he turns back to the machine which is spewing out your drink. 

“Well, Han Jisung, if you must know, I’m stressed the fuck out for my exam next Monday, I’ve got a practical in two days, and my boyfriend broke up with me a few days ago because I was too much for him. He was just a pathetic, weak little man, I really don’t know how I lasted that long with him.” You found yourself ranting, releasing some of the pent-up frustration you’ve been feeling for the past few days.

“Well,” Jisung starts. “that’s very fair.” He goes quiet for the remainder of the time he is making the drink, leaving a slightly awkward air around you. You focus your eyes on the counter in front of you in an attempt to ignore the stress coming back to you. All of a sudden a drink is slid across the counter.

“Is that a… squirrel?” You look from the cute latte art to the man standing across the counter from you. He looks sheepishly up at you.

“Yeah, looks like me, doesn’t it?” His grin is back, and you can feel a smile creeping onto your face.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Your eyes linger on his for a few moments, until a group of people enter the small cafe and his attention is brought away from you. You discreetly watch him as he works, greeting the customers with a big smile, and using his charisma to get an extra cake sale. You think maybe you fell for the same charisma yesterday, but you don’t really mind because the cookie was pretty good. A few minutes pass, and you sip on your drink, trying to keep the art as intact as possible. Once the last customer had been served he side steps back towards you.

“How is it? Has it fixed your week yet?” He raises his eyebrows, smirking slightly.

“I’m not sure a drink can fix my week,” you respond, letting out a small sigh.

“Nonsense! Of course, it can. Take a sip.” he gestures to you to lift the mug to your lips. You reluctantly take a sip.

“See? It’s working, no?” he chuckles. You put the cup down and try your best not to laugh.

“There’s that pretty smile!” he grins, earning a roll of your eyes. Your phone buzzes with an incoming email from your university, it’s just a random send-to-all type of email but it does remind you of your looming academic responsibilities.

“Thank you, for the squirrel,” you tell him while standing up from the stool. 

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, round eyes looking suddenly lost. 

“I’ve got work to do, I’ll see you around.”

“You better.” His grin is wide as he watches you leave, hoping you do come back soon.

The third time you see him.

“We crushed it!” You celebrate with your best friend, the two of you have just partaken in a mock legal trial as part of an assessment. Your Professor had wanted to challenge the class, setting up fake suspects and witnesses, and had even arranged for a court stenographer to be present. Your group had won the case, despite the opposing team putting up a pretty tough fight.

“Did you see the look on the judged face when you caught out the lying witness? I was trying so hard not to say something.” Your friend gushes, talking faster than you could keep up with.

“I know!” You laugh but break into a yawn as the previous nights studying catches up with you once the excitement is over.

“Coffee?” She asks.

“Absolutely.” 

You’re so engrossed in the conversation as the two of you walk that you don’t even realise you’ve made it all the way to the familiar coffee shop. You stop in your tracks a few feet from the door.

“Not here,” you groan.

“Why not? This place does the best coffee on campus.” She looks confused as she turns back to you.

“I always see the same barista, and he always hits on me, I just can’t be bothered today.” You whine a little, trying to convince her.

“Well, is he working right now?” 

You take a step further, enough to look through the window and see the counter. There is a man, but it’s not Jisung.

“I don’t see him.” You trail off, scanning the rest of the shop as much as you can see.

“Alright then, we’re getting coffee here.” Your friend grabs you by the hand and practically pulls you into the small cafe. There is a surprising queue, so you continue to just make conversation with her until you’re next at the counter. The barista who serves you has curly, black hair and biceps that honestly look like they’re about to burst his sleeves. He greets both of you with a smile and begins to punch your orders into the register.

“Changbin! Catch!” You hear a familiar voice. Your heart sinks to your ass. The barista serving you, Changbin, turns back and looks towards the door into the back. Peeking around the cake stand, you catch a glimpse of Jisung. He’s hanging onto the door with a container of what looks like soya milk. He throws it, and Changbin catches it.

“Sorry about that, our delivery was late this morning and only just arrived, so it’s a bit crazy right now,” Changbin explains, replacing an empty soya milk container.

“Don’t worry about it. It happens.” You shrug. He finishes taking your order and the two of you move to the side to wait.

“He’s kind of fit,” your friend leans into you to say, once you’re both out of earshot.

“In more ways than one.” you giggle.

Your attention is quickly averted towards the door to the backroom, particularly to Jisung who is rushing out of it and towards the counter, tying his apron at the same time. 

“Sorry Bin, it’s a nightmare back there.” He says, getting to work on coffee orders.

“No worries, we’re not too busy anymore, the rush seems to be over.” You realise that you and your friend were the last in the queue and the cafe has died down a little since you first entered. Jisung also takes a quick glance around, and that’s when he spots you.

“Y/n,” he says. “Back to see me so soon?” His lips turn up into a small smirk.

“You wish.” You roll your eyes. He just laughs and turns back to the coffee machine. You look at your friend and give her a look, the look you get in return translates to 'message received'. 

“He’s kinda cute,” she whispers to you, thankfully you were far away enough for her not to be heard. You sighed. He is kind of cute but that’s not what you’re looking for right now. You’re in a weird enough head space as it is with all the stress of law school and the breakup, not even two weeks ago! You can’t seriously be thinking about dating so soon. Right…?

You’re ripped from your thoughts by the very same man that caused them.

“A white hot chocolate?” Jisung announces to the two of you, but he’s looking at you.

“Yeah, that’s me.” You step up to the counter and begin to take it.

“You’re looking very fancy today, big plans?” he asks, smiling.

“I had a mock trial this morning.” You say and he looks at you with wide eyes, kind of like a deer in headlights.

“You know, like a court trial?” you ask.

“Law! That’s what you’re studying.” He finally realises.

“I didn’t say?” You’re now the one who’s confused.

“No, you never, I’ve been trying to figure it out, trying to guess.” he laughs. Changbin appears next to him and slides an espresso onto the counter, your friend stepping over to take it.

“Bin, they’re a lawyer! Isn’t that cool?” Jisung gushes a little, looking back at you with big eyes. 

“They won their trial this morning.” Your friend interrupts before you can say anything. You shoot her a look.

“Really?” The big, sparkling doe eyes are back as he leans against the counter.

“I, uh, yeah,” you stutter a little.

“Wow, that’s so cool.”

“Sung, I don’t pay you to stand around and flirt with our customers.” Changbin walks back towards the coffee machine and he begins prepping another order. 

“You don’t pay me at all, you’re not even a manager!” Jisung starts whining as he stands up properly. He turns back to you.

“Enjoy your drinks!” He says. You take this as your queue to leave and make a beeline out of the coffee shop, drink in hand. Your friend follows behind you, honestly a little confused.

Once you’re a safe distance from the shop, you finally feel able to breathe again. 

The fourth time you see him.

Beep… beep… beep…

Your alarm. You reach over and turn it off, groaning as you roll back over, the feeling of dread already seeping into your bones. It’s the morning of the exam. The exam you’ve been dreading. The exam that is responsible for 60% of your grade. You groan again.

You feel heavy as you walk around your flat, attempting to get ready for the day ahead of you. It doesn’t help that you broke the fundamental exam rule of getting a good night’s sleep, tossing and turning until eventually passing out. So many textbooks have been haunting your thoughts that you barely noticed you’ve also been thinking about something else. Or rather someone else.

You can’t stop, he keeps popping up in your mind. His round face, and big smile. You feel yourself smiling just thinking about it. But fuck, it feels wrong. You shouldn’t be thinking about him. You don’t have time! You have a big exam, which conveniently starts in just over an hour. 

You need a coffee.

You get to the familiar coffee shop at 11:31am. Your exam starts at noon. It takes 20 minutes to walk to the campus building it’s being held at. You probably don’t have time for this. 

You see him. He’s behind the counter. You think your head hurts.

“Hey,” he greets you with that smile again. You feel sick. “What can I getcha?”

“Just a black coffee, to go.” Your voice croaks a little from its lack of use.

“You’re not staying with me?” He smirks, punching it into the register.

“No.”

You see him falter a little at your cold tone. His eyebrows quirk down a little.

“Are you alright?” he asks as you swipe your phone to pay.

“Stop it, Jisung. Can’t you just leave me alone today, God,” you say exasperated, and step away from the counter. You try to ignore the hurt look in his eye and you really try to ignore the way he shrunk in on himself. A different member of staff you’ve never seen before hands you the drink and you leave the coffee shop without looking back at him. 

The exam goes terribly. At least it feels like it goes terribly. Your head is a mess, the guilt chewing at you the entire time. You do your best, writing everything you recall but by the end of it you have a decent headache and the pit in your gut has grown. You leave the exam and go home, collapsing in your bed and you fall asleep telling yourself you’ll feel better when you wake up.

The fifth time you see him.

You wake up in the afternoon the next day. 

You don’t feel much better. Not after binging on a pizza and your favourite chocolate. Not after watching that movie that makes you cry every time. Not even after you’ve journaled about it. You think that particular journal entry is mostly scrambled nonsense. It probably is.

You decide to go for a walk to clear your head. Maybe the cold, winter air will freshen you up, and make you feel a bit better. With a big coat and a warm scarf wrapped around you, you walk into the evening air, it’s already past 11pm so you mostly see young people out drinking despite the weather. You have no destination but of course, you end up there.

The warm, yellow-toned light pours from the window as usual. The bell above the door is jarring to your fragile little heart. 

He’s there.

He has his back to you, cleaning some sort of container in the sink. 

“Two seconds!” he sing-songs. You don’t respond. A few seconds later he’s done and spins around to you. His eyes widen a little and then drop.

“Hi.” He steps towards the register.

“Hi,” you respond.

“Would you like something to drink?” his tone is passive, despite his words being polite. 

“A hot chocolate, please, to sit in.” You try to smile at him, he focuses on the register. He nudges the card reader towards you as he steps away to get started on your drink. You move towards the bar-stool seating you sat on previously.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” you ask. He looks back to you.

“Go ahead,” he glances back at you. You take a seat and look around, and you realise for the first time that you’re the only person in here, apart from Jisung. You look back towards him just as he put the cup down in front of you.

“Thank you,” you smile again, he gives you a small one but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He turns away and starts fiddling with the coffee machine.

“Jisung, can I talk to you?” you ask.

“I thought you wanted me to leave you alone.” He says without turning around.

“Please.”

 That gets him to turn around at least, even if he is still looking at anything but you. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you yesterday. I was just a mess, and that’s not an excuse but I need you to know I didn’t mean it,” you trail off, picking up your drink and taking a sip, appreciating its sweetness. 

“And to be honest, I kind of miss the flirty Jisung. I was beginning to like him.” You take another sip of your hot chocolate, smirking to yourself when you see his head shoot up toward you.

“You do?” His eyes soften a little when you nod.

“I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay. Well, it’s not okay. But it’s okay. To be honest, I probably was coming on weirdly strong, huh?” He scratches the back of his neck while you chuckle.

There is a moment of silence as you look down at your hot chocolate. Until a thought sparks in your head.

“Why do you flirt with me?” 

“What?” His eyes widen and the poor guy looks like he’s about to shit his pants.

“Why do you flirt with me? Or do you just flirt with anyone?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No! I don’t, it’s really just you, and I don’t know why, I just kinda… liked you? I mean, you seemed cool and nice and definitely my type.” He catches himself rambling. 

“I’m your type?” You ask, smirking.

“Well, yeah.” he chuckles. You laugh too.

“Han Jisung, I think we should go on a date.” You say, definitively. 

“Really?!” He stands up from where he was leaning against the back counter and crosses towards you.

“Actually, never mind.” You roll your eyes, chuckling.

“Do not play with my heart like this, I’m sensitive!” he clutches at his chest dramatically, making you laugh louder.

“Fine, but I get to pick where we’re going.”

“Deal! Just tell me a time and I’ll be there.” His grin tells you that he will live up to that. You fall into another silence as you hold each other’s gaze, just smiling.

“Hey, Y/n, you want a discounted cookie?”

“I’d love one.”

taglist - @lethallyprotected

[amiableness]

Elina’s 4k celebration ; Positivity Picnic <3

First off, thank you so much for 4k! I can't wrap my head around the fact that so many of you decided to follow me, and I can't say thank you enough for being here. Since most, if not all of you, are following me to read fics, I thought it would be fitting to find ways to spread love to other fanfic writers.

Just as fanfics are free, so is your interaction—and it means more than you know. To show your support, choose a few food items to bring to our picnic:

If you participate, let me know here! Or you can tag me in something <3

🍰 - Leave a comment on a fic you’ve enjoyed. I challenge you to comment what you loved specifically about it, it’s nice feedback for writers!

🥗 - Reblog a fic with a quote that you loved and why you loved it or how it made you feel

🍝 - Send an ask (anon or not!) and ask a writer a question about one of their works

🥧 - Make a fic reblog account to reblog all your favorites fics. This keeps all your favorite fics organized and means so much to writers!

🍓- Make a masterlist of all your favorite works. I promise you that it makes an authors day when they’re included on one of these lists!

🍒 - Send an ask to a writer about one of their works. These are my favorite to receive because then you can freak out over something together!

🥖 - Get creative with your reblogs! Add memes and/or tell them how their writing made you feel. Reblogs with allll your thoughts about the work is a writers love language!

🍯- Make a mood board for a fic! I’ve seen people in others fandoms make these for their favorite works, so if this is something you’re into, share it!

🥨 - Art of a scene or character from a fic! Same with mood boards, if you’re into it, it might be fun to share it with an author. I promise you that they’ll love it

Why we need interaction:

I’ve noticed so many fanfic writers feeling discouraged due to a lack of interaction with their works. At the same time, I’ve come across polls and anon asks where readers admit they don’t understand why interaction matters—or even find it annoying when writers ask for it. But here’s the thing: writers have every right to ask for interaction.

We spend hours working on every detail—perfecting lines, mapping out scenes, changing dialogue until it flows just right. It’s a lot of work and while we don’t get paid for it, those reblogs, comments, or asks? In an odd way, it’s almost like getting paid. The interaction is the reward for your hard work. And really, it means so much to know that someone took five minutes out of their day to share their thoughts after you’ve spent hours on a fic.

So, if you think interacting with fanfic is pointless or too much effort, maybe fanfiction isn’t for you.

The fanfic community is so much better with interaction. I’ve seen so many mutals leave over the years because of lack of interaction, so if you enjoy someone’s work, tell them. I know many of you have thought, “My comment or reblog won’t make a difference,” but you couldn’t be more wrong. It makes a huge impact.

Now that my rant is over, if you have any more ideas, let me know and I’ll add them! <3

[the-afterparty-au]

[✨*ABOUT✨]

The Afterparty AU is briefly summarized as taking place in a party within the void, lasting forever after a genocide route that was never undone. After many months of nothing but wind, our first fallen human realized the world was not going to be reverted by the player, and they stayed true to their word of Erasure. Chara however, simply getting bored decides to play a game framed as a experiment & brings back all the monsters you failed to befriend in a Genocide route back for a encore. Allowing everyone to reside in the void, a space between files & between deltarune and UNDERTALE. The amount of monsters that are happy about this is uncertain, but all of them are certainly questioning literally everything that brought them here.  (Lightly Inspired by these fanworks so, Thanks to @garbagechocolate, @djsmell & @jazze-bee for accidentally inspiring me to make a whole AU)

By; Modphys (They/them) (Main Blog & Art Blog: @kates-cave & @ryzies-ralley)  Modtaton (He/they) (Main Blog + Art Blog: @spiltmilk34 & @spoiledcheese34 | Instagram ) Papymod (She/they/he) (Main Blog + Art Blog: @theartistthatcantraw & @fail3dexp3rim3nt) Also thanking this for the text boxes haha

[*TAGS]

#ModAlphys🍍 #ModMTT🦝 #ModPapy💀 - Content from specific Mods

#OutOfVoid - General out of character posts/Asks/Announcements Etc.

#PostsFortheVoid Reblogs of any Fanart or random posts I/we might reblog

#PostsOfTheVoid Extra Content asks lore etc. not relevant to the actual plot Or announcements

#TheAfterPartyAU In universe & Main Story posts

#AskAfterparty is any asks in character

#ModsQ&A, Any Asks directly for the mods + #ModsArt is any Art Directly from the mods (not counting story)

[📋*RULES 📋]

[*Current AU Status: Active]

- No SERIOUS NSFW media. Swearing and certain (Chara Frisk & Flowey are all children) jokes are allowed but actual sexually explicit content & HARD GORE is prohibited. Plus the mods are minors 

- Harassment towards me, Or anyone of Any group, will not be tolerated

- Repeat asks will probably be ignored, sorry.

- Please Be patient, This blog does not have a schedule & updates come out when they’re ready (aim for at least 2 weeks) 

- No Magic!Anon please, While this story is a bit aimless it’s still there, plus Keep Roleplaying limited maybe. Makes my life easier.

- Technically not a hard rule but If you’re asking & have an ask blog I recommend you add your @, Love seeing other AU/Blog’s Out there in the wild!! Doesn't matter the fandom either :D 

- Probably will close the ask box if it gets too full, might cap it at 20 0r 25.

* Have funnnnn. =)

[*⚠️ *WARNINGS ⚠️]

This AU is estimated to be 15+  

While I don't plan to include shipping, it might sneak its way in here, who knows.

Swearing in Asks Is allowed plus the mod swears. (Steer clear of slurs, even if you can reclaim them.)

Scarring, Blood, Death, themes of unreality trauma & gore is around, Everyone was brought back from the dead. Additional CW for mentions Genocide considering this au is after one. 

potential mentions (& possible depictions) of suicide & Self harm, Fratricide, Mind Control (Possible Manipulation), & Divorce.

While this aims to be (kind of) joke au, General CW for potential disturbing content is out there. 

Feel Free the DM With any warnings I missed & should include

[*ACT - ASK] - ASK BOX STATUS [OPEN]

*Chara - 💔 *Frisk - ♥️ *Toriel - 🔥 *Papyrus - 💀 *Mad Mewsy - 💢 *The Undying - 🦈 *Muffet - 🕷️ *Mettaton NEO -  👾 *Sans - 🦴 *Asgore - 🔱 *Flowey 🌻

 DNI LIST

Homophobes, Terfs, LGBTQIA+Phobic, Racists, Xenophobes, Pro shippers, Anti-Anti's, Misogynists', Cancel Culture & Cringe Culture, NSFW/18+Blogs, Abelists, Zoophiles, Anti Semitism, Hate speech, MAPS/Pedos, Discourse Blogs, AI supprters, Y’know the basic DNI criteria stuff  (Just don't be a dick man this feels dumb to make.)

[*LINKS – 📎]

Beginning - N/A

Arcs  - N/A

Character Sheets - N/A

Most Recent - N/A 

[acewritesfics]

Baby Halstead | JAY HALSTEAD

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request: From Anon

Fic Type: Blurb

Prompt: “Baby, I don’t get down on my knees for anyone but you.” 

Warnings: Late stages of Pregnancy.

Word Count: 778

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

©️ no one has permission to copy, translate and/or repost my works on here or anywhere else.

“Hey!” Y/N calls out to the bullpen as she reaches the top of the stairs, somewhat out of breath, both hands on her large pregnant belly.  

“Hi!” Kim greets her heavily pregnant partner with excitement. “You look like you’re going to pop.”  

“I feel like I’m about to, even though she’s got three more weeks in here,” she breathes, a faint smile on her face. As excited as she is for this baby and wanting nothing more than to be able hold her daughter in her arms, she is ready for this pregnancy and all of its aches and pains to be over. "And, before I forget, I want to thank you for the baby and mommy baskets.“ 

"Don’t worry about it,” Kim says with a smile.  

“Please tell me there’s not much longer to go,” Adam says as he walks out of the little kitchen area, his eyes pleading with her and he gives her a quick hug. Kim leads her to Jay’s desk and helps her sit in his chair; her desk is currently occupied by her stand-in until she returns to work in a few months.  

“We need you back as soon as possible. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep Jay in line,” he adds just as Jay walks up the stairs. 

Jay shoots him a glare before noticing Y/N seated at his desk. “What are you doing here? I thought the doctors told you to rest.”  

“They did, but I wanted to see everyone before the baby arrives and she gets all the attention,” she laughs as her husband walks over to her. “I wanted some fresh air as well. The apartment was starting to feel stuffy.”  

He looks at her with concern, “You feeling okay?  

"I promise, Jay, I’m okay,” she assures him.  

They went to the hospital last week, assuming she was going into labor early. But, once the doctor determined it was Braxton Hicks, she was sent home. She still experiences Braxton hicks contractions, but they are not as severe as when she went to the hospital. Both she and Jay were tense, waiting for the fake contractions to evolve into real ones. Because of the way their daughter has been moving constantly, as if she’s restless and eager to come out, Y/N believes she’ll be born before her due date. 

“Now, please calm your daughter down,” she pleads as she takes his hands and places them on her belly.  

Jay kneels in front of her, and as soon as his hands touch her, their daughter’s movements ease significantly, allowing Y/N to rest for a minute. Baby Halstead has always recognised her father’s touch. He was the only one who could get her to calm down, and if he wasn’t there, it was the silky smooth sounds of Jazz streaming through the headphones she’d drape over her belly. Y/N could tell right away that their first born is going to be a big time daddy’s girl. 

“You know, I haven’t seen you on your knees since you proposed to me,” she quips, placing her hands over his as his thumbs caress her large bump. “I enjoy seeing you like this.”  

“Baby, I don’t get down on my knees for anyone but you,” he scoffs, smiling up at her. “And maybe our daughter.”  

She smiles back and says, “She’s going to have you so tightly wrapped around her finger.” 

“Just like her mom,” he comments as he stands up and kisses her.  

“Could you kindly help her mom up so she can go get something to eat before heading home?” she asks.  

Jay helps her stand up and kisses her again before letting her go so she can say goodbye to everyone while he asks Hank if he can take an hour to get something to eat with her and make sure she gets home safely. Hank allows him. He helps her down the stairs and into the car before getting into the drivers seat.  

“You didn’t have to do this, baby,” she reminds him as he drives to the bakery she’s become a regular at since getting pregnant. 

“Yes, I did,” he responds, glancing at her quickly before looking back to the road. “I have to make sure my wife and child get home safely.”  

“And it is one of the many reasons why I love you,” she says with a smile.  

“I love you too,” he says, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it as they come to a halt at a stop sign. “And Baby Halstead.”  

“We really need to decide on a name for her,” she chuckles. “Before she’s forever known as Baby Halstead.” 

[eyeshields]

The Winter Gift Exchange is back for 2024! The ES21 Winter Gift Exchange (#ES2024WGE) is a Secret-Santa-style fandom event where you make art/fic/etc. for another fan, remaining anonymous until you post your gifts on December 21st, and in return receive a gift! If you'd like to join, read on!

⛷ 01: Sign-up by completing the Google Form linked above. Make sure to answer any/all questions relevant to you, but otherwise include as much or as little detail as you’d like. ❆ 02: Reblog this post so more people see it if you're inclined! ⛷ 03: Sign-ups end at the end of the day Nov 17th. After that, watch for a message telling you who you’re making a gift for within 2-3 days. Make sure to stay anonymous until the end: if you have questions for your giftee, you can ask on anon or tell me and I’ll relay your questions. ❆ 04: Work on your gift! Fics should be ~1k words minimum (feel free to make something longer if you wish!). There’s no size minimum for art, but art should similarly be completed to whatever completed is for you (allowing for stylistic differences). ⛷ 05: Keep an eye out on Dec 16th for a check-in message - you don’t need to be done with your gift at this point, but please respond to this message within a day or so so I know you’re still good to go and I don’t need to fill-in for your gift! ❆ 06: On that note: please let me know ahead of time (e.g. before the deadline) if you need to drop out or if you don’t think you can complete your gift. I don’t have to know specifics and there will be absolutely no judgment; I fully understand that life can throw all sorts of stuff at you, but prior notice will allow me or another pinch-hitter to complete the gift for you. ⛷ 07: Post your gift on December 21st! Make sure to tag the event (#ES2024WGE or any upper/lower case derivatives of this) so we have everything in one spot. ❆ 08: Optional, but nice: reblog your gift and add some nice comments or tags •ᴗ•

Thanks for reading 'til the end! Hope you decide to join us!

[ireadwithmyears]

Hi! Would you be able to write something for the clones (any of them) with a reader who has a guide dog. I've been running into a lot of issues with people trying to distract her and borderline harassing us (the president of my university follows us around with his unleashed dog running up to us, someone grabbed her nose when we were on a bus and then screamed at us, I'm a biology/genetics major so we get some subtle discrimination in academic opportunities like research projects, etc). Also I don't currently live somewhere with public transportation so I have to take Uber to get anywhere which is a whole other nightmare (a driver dropped us off at the wrong location and I was stuck in a sketchy part of town for 45 minutes while drivers kept denying us a ride). Maybe something with how the clones would comfort/handle their SO dealing with these things. Obviously you don't have to write about all of these scenarios, just some ideas

You don't have to of course, but I figured it was worth an ask:)

Looking Out for You:Part 1

Pairing: Commander Fox/fem Reader

Visually impaired reader masterlist

Word count: 4.1 K

Tags/warnings: Visually impaired reader, meet cute, grumpy x sunshine vibes, denial of feelings(Fox falls first, he falls hard, and he denies it every single step of the way because he’s Fox), guide dog cuteness, brief mention of ableism(this chapter is pretty tame, but in future installments, I intend to explore these elements more deeply, specifically as they pertain to service dog users. These topics aren’t always the most comfortable to discuss. But I feel they are important to bring awareness to)

Summary: Making the transition from your small, rural homeworld to Coruscant already promises to be tough. But when you’re employed to work at the Senate buildings directly under senator Organa and you’re also a guide dog user, things quickly become more complicated, in a variety of ways. Luckily, you seem to have caught the eye of a certain Marshal commander, who swears up and down that he’s not falling in love with you, but who, regardless, always has your back, and is always looking out for you.

A.k.a. 

The three times Fox makes sure that you get home safely. Plus the one time he ends up following you inside

Authors note: Hii anon. I was so happy to hear from you and received this request. As a fellow guide dog user, I have so many different experiences that I feel are worth sharing, so that more people are aware of the trials we face because as amazing as it is that we have these incredible animals, it isn’t always just a nice walk in the park. Which leads me to my next point. Because of all of these experiences that I want to highlight, this 1shot quickly evolved into a four part series, to give it the proper breathing room that I feel it deserves. I hope that’s okay, and I hope you still like this one. If you’d like to message me privately so that I can make sure you’re tagged in each subsequent update, please do. I’d be happy to do that

The first time it happens, Fox is admittedly running on his default, which is to say in plain terms that he is annoyed.

“Why is this my problem?”

Fox winces upon hearing the barely concealed snarl in his own voice through his helmet speakers. He could have phrased that better. He should have at least taken the courtesy to add “with all due respect” when leading into that sentence, even if both he and the trooper who has the misfortune of being at the other end of the line are both fully aware that he doesn’t intend to sound respectful in the slightest.

There’s a pause, a hesitation on the other end of the coms, which causes Fox to silently berate himself for his initial sharp tone. He reminds himself, as he does about 500 times daily, that he needs to be more careful with it.

This warning, for some reason, always falls on deaf ears. But still, Fox wagers that he at least keeps trying, and who knows, maybe one of these days, it’ll actually stick. It probably won’t.

“It’s just that the issue is occurring at the entrance closest to your office, sir,” the trooper begins before rushing to add, “but if you’re busy, we can send—”

“Don’t bother,” Fox sighs. “I’m already on my way there.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be on such a high horse, but really, being sent to investigate a loitering complaint is far above what he, as a marshall commander, should be doing. Despite this though, he privately admits that he’s been looking for an excuse to stand up from his desk chair and stretch his legs. Maybe if he’s lucky, he'll manage to shake off the aching twinge in his left shoulder, hunched from filling out a last-minute stack of crime reports that he had been on the scene of, all from the previous night between the hours of 1 to 3 in the morning. So really, he rationalizes, can anyone blame him for being more than a little bit pissed off at the interruption? 

Maybe it’s a sign that he needs a refill on his caf. 

He rounds the corner and, with what is in hindsight probably more force than is necessary, smacks a hand against an access panel. The door slides open, and a cool breeze hits him as he steps outside into the open air.

His eyes scan through the visor of his helmet, and to his annoyance he doesn’t see the suspected loiterer that he had been warned of, at least not at first. 

Sighing, he steps further out and past the awning above the entrance. Though the air is cool, the sun still shines, and the slight glow causes his eyes to catch on the gloss of your hair as you walk past, eyes nervous as they flick around. Sensing his presence, you pause, shoulders stiffening slightly as you turn to face him with trepidation. Fox also takes notice, his eyes widening in momentary surprise when he observes the guide dog harnessed at your left side, looking up at you with big brown eyes, as if silently trying to understand your sudden hesitance.

You, of course, have every reason to be suspicious of any unannounced or unidentified presence in your vicinity, especially now that you’re living on Coruscant. But, if you’re honest, you’re already on edge, and even though it’s still morning, the day has promised to be shit if the beginning of it is any indication.

Senator Organa isn’t in the habit of firing his junior staff for small mistakes like this, you remind yourself. Still, the thought, no matter how many times you’ve repeated it like a mantra at this point, doesn’t manage to calm your growing nerves, because regardless you’re still lost, and you’re still running late. You silently curse the pitfalls of being blind and using a ride-sharing service, and then you have to restrain yourself from cursing aloud when your eyes land on the silhouette parked a few meters in front of you.

You don’t have much vision. But with what you do have, it’s enough to deduce bright, contrasting colors. And the red splotches against white armor has you stopping dead in your tracks, because within the span of two seconds, a cold clarity settles within your stomach, because the red and white armor is distinctly and unmistakably that of a Coruscant Guard member, the visor of his helmet tilted, looking no doubt with suspicion directly at you.

Resisting the urge to bemoan the shortage of orientation and mobility droids designed to assist with transitions like this—which would have ensured that you would have been able to smoothly get yourself out of this situation in the first place—you bring your guide dog to heel before gesturing for her to sit, then slowly and hesitantly raise your eyes to the trooper, already feeling a mix of anxiety and guilt stirring in the pit of your stomach.

There’s a small sound from his helmet, a hesitation as he seems to clear his throat before speaking. 

“Personal Senatorial aides aren’t permitted to use this entrance,” he says, gesturing to the badge on the lanyard that hangs around your neck. 

He speaks as if this is a reminder that he’s given more than once, which you’re sure he has. Still, there’s an underlying sharpness to it that makes you jump despite your efforts not to react. 

“I, I know,” you say, swallowing before rushing to continue. “I didn’t mean to be dropped off here, sir. I took a Speedershare to get here this morning, and I didn’t realize the driver dropped me off at this entrance until I got out, and by that point it was too late, and I should have asked to verify which one he was going to but—”

“Hey, easy. Slow down.”

The trooper steps closer to you, and it’s only then that you register that you’ve been rambling, your anxiety ratcheting up with each word. Now that you’re silent, you can feel the way your heart is pounding. You’ve seen the Guard around, of course, but you’ve never really interacted with any of them. He’s tall, you realize as he stands in front of you and you look up into the visor of his helmet. Tall and broad, and you were already nervous before he showed up. 

But his hands are raised, in supplication or as an offering of peace, you’re not sure. But regardless, he doesn’t seem on the verge of scolding you further for your silly mistake, which is good, because your nerves are still so frayed from getting out of your ride only to realize that you had no idea where you were, and that apart from knowing that you were somewhere at the Senate building, you were effectively lost and alone. A scolding, delivered with just the right amount of displeasure, would probably be enough to make you start crying, which would make this day go from being the worst to certifiably irredeemable.

“Speedershare isn’t always the most reliable service. Your employer is Senator Organa,” he says, eyes once again scanning over your badge. “I’m sure he could arrange an alternate transportation service that is much more consistent and professional for you to use.”

“I don’t want his charity,” you say, and you can’t help the hard edge that creeps into your voice when you speak.

But really, you don’t. You know that he could, and knowing Senator Organa, he would be happy to do so. But it’s unnecessary. You grew up needing extra accommodations and things that, despite your teachers’ constant stream of reassurances, always made you feel singled out. 

You’re an adult now, and you don’t want that. You don’t need his charity, his pity, or to be added to his ever-growing list of things to worry about at the beginning and end of each day—an item to be checked off. 

As far as you’re concerned, the best thing you can do for the both of you is to keep this to yourself, and you’ll figure out how to manage sooner or later.

Fox takes a step back, able to recognize your quick deflection of his suggestion as a sign that he’s slightly overstepped, and he nods, glancing towards the door.

“Well,” he says, forcing his voice to sound lighter. “I suppose I could let you off the hook this once and let you use this entrance.”

“Thank you,” you say, before hesitantly adding, “I, I’m not familiar with the route to get to Senator Organa’s office from where we are. Would you, I mean, you don’t have to if you’re busy, but—”

“I’ll take you there,” he cuts you off, finality in his voice. “Do you, uh, need a guide or anything?”

Fox internally kicks himself for not knowing how to handle a situation like this, but you give your head a small shake, which allows him a moment of relief. 

“The color on your armor is bright,” you respond, and for the first time in this interaction, you smile. He can’t help but admire the way it seems to transform you, your previous nerves and worry disappearing like the sun breaking through the clouds. It’s quite lovely, he observes, and then internally kicks himself just a bit harder as punishment for that traitorous thought. 

Useless, he scolds. Unnecessary. But it’s already been thought, and he can’t take it back. He’s grateful for the helmet concealing his face, hiding the way his lips repeatedly twitch in an effort to turn upward as he hears you, your voice giving a soft, encouraging command, and the slight pitter patter of paws against pavement as your guide dog leads you to follow after him. 

He firmly resolves not to speak unless necessary until he’s taken you to the senator's office.

This resolve lasts for less than two minutes before he feels the slight brush of a wet nose against his hand and hears a small sniffing sound at his hip. Turning his head, he finds your guide dog, who has stopped walking and is sniffing at a pouch around his waist, and you looking sheepish as you stand behind him.

“Mandalore, leave it,” you scold, your voice lower than he’s heard it and with a suddenly authoritative edge that has his eyes widening slightly. You’re so little, he thinks, and all you’ve ever been whilst interacting with him is timid and quiet like a mouse. Seeing that side of you, as if flipped on by a switch, well...he can’t help but be taken by slight surprise. You pull back the harness, giving it a slight shake and the dog, with obvious reluctance, backs off, abandoning its curiosity.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, your cheeks heating with a blush. His hand twitches of its own accord, struck with an unexplained urge to reach out and touch, wondering if he would feel the warmth of your cheek beneath his gloved fingers.

Kriff, his internal monologue groans, disgusted. What the fuck is wrong with you today? He refocuses, looking down at you and shaking his head.

“Your dog’s name is Mandalore?” he asks, genuinely curious and unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

You laugh, nodding your head. “The one and only,” you grin. “Certain training schools do things differently. But the one we went to likes to name each litter by theme, and hers happened to be planets.”

You lower your voice, leaning in conspiratorially with a slight twinkle in your eye. 

“You know, for a Mandalore, she doesn’t look very intimidating, does she?” you ask, and he’s surprised, startled even, to hear the snort of laughter that is pulled from him as he nods his head, looking down at the guide dog who’s unaffected, her professional mask barely concealed behind a tail that wags at him and big, pleading eyes that seem to pierce through his soul.

“No, she really doesn’t,” he agrees, and your grin widens.

“I’ve always joked that if a burglar broke into my house, she wouldn’t bark or growl or try to bite at them,” you say, still smiling as you continue to walk. “She would simply flop down on the ground at their feet and roll over to demand a belly rub.”

“Well…” he says, and faintly, in the back of his head, he registers that he’s 

actually smiling. Huh, he thinks, taken slightly off-guard by the strange feeling. He can’t remember the last time that’s happened. It’s almost slightly disturbing. “If she’s not a fighter, she at least has some good distraction tactics.”

You laugh, your previous nerves surrounding getting lost and being late all but forgotten. It’s a nice sound, bright and lively, and Fox, the Maker help him, finds that he wants to hear it again.

“She probably smells the treats I keep in my pouch for Grizzer,” Fox explains, slightly rueful. He rolls his eyes and pretends to dislike it every time Hound brings the massiff to his office, citing that his panting is distracting, and that his drool gets everywhere, which is disgusting. Those things are both true. But Fox also can’t help but appreciate the warm weight of Grizzer’s head against his leg or the large, imploring eyes the massiff gives him when he knows that Fox has food. 

“I figured it would be unprofessional of me to offer one to her,” he continues, and you nod your head, glancing down.

“It would, but...” you begin slowly, calculating as you clock the staircase you’re approaching and turning your head to look up at him as a slow smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “If you give it to me, I could give it to her by proxy if you want.”

He nods, unzipping the small pouch, guiding you to hold out your hand as he places several small treats on the palm of it, which already has the dog vibrating with eagerness. But you don’t give in right away. 

“Forward,” you say, gesturing your head to the small set of stairs. The added incentive makes the dog quick on her feet, and you have to tell her to slow down as she rushes to comply, guiding you towards the stairs, barely able to contain the excited trot in her step. “Okay, Mandalore, show me where the railing is.”

The guide dog turns slightly, changing course to lead you towards the railing on the far right, placing her front paws up on the stairs and pausing, turning her head to look up at you for approval. 

“Yes,” you beam, stroking a hand along her head. “You learn so fast. Good girl.”

Fox watches, a smile on his face as you hold out your hand with the treats, giving it a few taps against the railing before opening your palm, offering it to her. She eagerly gobbles them up without hesitation, her tail never ceasing its happy little wiggles, which makes Fox want to laugh.

“You know,” he says, stepping up beside you and beginning to mount the stairs. “On second thought, maybe she is a fighter. I mean, she looked like she was ready to take off your fingers along with the treats.”

“When it comes to food, she definitely is,” you say with a grin, following after him. “If only all burglars came covered in peanut butter or dog treats, I’d feel much safer about our odds.”

You both snicker, and the rest of the journey up to the senators’ offices passes in a relatively comfortable silence apart from Fox giving you a few quiet directions as you make your way through the halls. You never fail to turn your head and smile at him each time he warns you of a crowd of people incoming so you can maybe take a step to the side, or if you need to turn left or right at this next intersection.

He isn’t sure how to describe it, but his heart does something strange each time you do. 

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience...” you trail off, uncertain of the trooper’s name as you stand outside the doorway to Senator Organa’s office.

“Fox,” he responds, and he’s quickly struck by the strangeness of how he felt compelled to give you his chosen name first instead of his rank. That, he thinks, is definitely odd and out of the ordinary, but he recovers himself quickly. “Commander Fox,” he adds, and your cheeks rapidly heat with a blush.

“Oh, Force,” you groan, covering your cheeks with your hands and closing your eyes, mortified. “I’m sorry, Commander. I didn’t mean to inconvenience so much of your time.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, and the brush of gloved fingers against your arm is barely there, brief and gone in an instant, but it’s enough to startle you out of your embarrassment, your eyes widening as you look up at him. “It wasn’t an inconvenience,” he says, sounding so sincere that you lose any ability to respond to that, falling into a silence in which the both of you simply stand, contemplating each other.

Fox, for his part, is struck by the realization that, for once, he means every word he’s just said. 

“Well,” you say, blinking as you try to shake yourself out of your stupor. “Regardless of the circumstances, it was lovely to meet you, Commander, and if we ever encounter each other again, you may want to introduce yourself by name if we speak. Every trooper shares the same voice, which makes it much harder for me to differentiate between you all, and I’d hate to mistake you for someone else and embarrass the both of us any further. At least, more than I probably already have.”

“Right,” he says, equally as slowly and strangely hesitant for this conversation to end but not knowing what else to add. “Understood.” 

“I should go,” you say, feeling suddenly shy as you give him a small smile and turn to the door. “See you around, Commander,” you murmur, giving him a playful wink.

You step into the office, not waiting for his response. It takes him a full 30 seconds of just standing there out in the hall listening to the sound of dog paws tapping against the floor, growing distant as you move out of his listening range, to realize that you left him—completely and deliberately if the smirk that was pulling at the corners of your lips was any indication—with a blind joke.

He chokes, uncertain of if he’s allowed to laugh—of if it would be completely inappropriate for him to laugh. His cheeks heat with belated awkward embarrassment. He shakes his head, making a note as he forces his feet to move and forces himself to walk away, heading back in the direction of his office.

The next time he sees you—and he can’t help the strange and foreign hope that twinges in his chest at even the thought of seeing you again—he’ll have to ask you.

Until then, he thinks, giving himself a firm shake as he maneuvers himself through the halls of the Senate building. He resolves to keep you—the girl with the pretty smile, the hair that looks like it was made to run fingers through, and the infectious laugh that he still hears clear as a bell even now that you’re gone—far from his thoughts, ordering himself to stop acting like some sort of lovesick puppy and for kriff sake to just get back to work.

*

Fox, to his consternation, is unsuccessful.

The whole day, as he goes about his tasks—filling out reports, sending requisitions to the Senate, doing patrol—he can’t stop thinking about you. 

Your smile as you tilted your head to look up at him, your warm, encouraging demeanor as you worked with your guide dog, the excitable pup looking up at you like you’re her whole galaxy, the way that he had been able to make you genuinely laugh...

Okay, maybe his bar for sharing friendly interactions with natborns was insanely low up to this point. But knowing that he had brought that out of you had felt strangely good, leaving a warm, unfamiliar feeling in his stomach that lingered every time he thought of it.

He’s so unsuccessful at keeping his mind off of you during the workday that it’s still early in the afternoon when he pulls up your file on the database, scrolls through your work schedule, and at the end of the day is standing outside of Senator Organa’s office waiting for your shift to end.

When he sees you come out, Mandalore, sensing his presence before you do, happily begins to waggle her tail, her footsteps quickening as she leads you out of the office. He calls out to you, and you turn, searching for the voice.

“It’s Fox,” he says, removing his helmet and tucking it beneath his arm. “From this morning.”

Is he imagining it, or do your eyes actually light up when you spot him? 

“I just wanted to make sure that your ride picks you up without complication,” he continues. “Not that I don’t think you can do that on your own,” he rushes to add, his cheeks heating slightly. He’s already gotten the sense that you don’t like being underestimated, and he respects that. “I can make sure that you have detailed instructions in the app so that your driver knows exactly which entrance to collect you.”

“That would actually be super helpful!” you exclaim, and there’s no masking the relief in your voice as you pull out your comm, fiddling with it for a second before passing it to him. “I’ve been meaning to ask someone to update them, because I have a vague idea of what each entrance looks like and how to describe them, but honestly, I don’t think it’s enough to be helpful.”

He takes the device from you, and working quickly, types up detailed directions on how to get to the staff entrance along with a description of its surroundings. He pastes a copy into your notes for good measure so that you’re able to keep reusing it at your convenience. He explains all this to you as he passes it back, letting you know your ride is booked.

“You’re an angel, Fox,” you say in a relieved breath, beaming up at him. “Moving here has been so stressful as it is, and getting used to the transit options is just one more thing on top of that.”

You miss the way his cheeks go pink, but you do catch his quiet, breathy chuckle as he awkwardly avoids your gaze. 

“Right, well,” he scratches at the back of his neck, looking down at the ground. “Your ride should be here soon. Want me to come with you and make sure it shows up?”

“I don’t want to hold you up if you have other things to do,” you say uncertainly, biting your lip.

The truth is, you so badly want to say yes. Waiting for a Speedershare on your own can be anxiety inducing. So many things can go wrong. Your driver might not be able to find you, and when they call and ask you for directions, you aren’t able to provide them with much help. They could drive past and cancel altogether once they realize you have a service dog. Or worse, they can turn it into a full out yelling confrontation. In all cases, you’ve learned, your anxiety is significantly lessened if someone else is with you, ready to back you up at a moment's notice.

It’s true, you’ve only met Fox today. But his presence is steady, safe, and you get the sense that he would stay without question and without hesitation. But you also don’t want to become his burden.

“You’re not,” he states, hooking his helmet to his belt. “And I’m not. Come on, let’s go find your ride.”

And that’s exactly what he does. 

He leads you out towards the pick-up point, and when the speeder gets there, he verifies the plates, opens the door, and helps you inside, waiting patiently for your guide dog to tuck in her tail before beginning to let it close. Before it does though, before it drives away and you’re left wondering if and when you’ll ever see him again, he speaks, his voice low and carrying the softest, lightest undertone of teasing.

“See you around, mesh’la.”

It takes you a moment, but as you drive off, the echo of the words you had jokingly thrown over your shoulder at him just this morning flashes through your memory, and before you know it, you’re tipping your head back against the headrest of the seat, quietly laughing to yourself, uncaring of the driver giving you a funny look from the corner of his eye as he picks up speed, driving away from the Senate building.

You’re still smiling as the speeder rounds the corner, and the building, as well as Marshall Commander Fox, disappears from view.

If you like and enjoy this story, please consider dropping a reblog, as you might help someone else find something they enjoy just as much. Thank you :-) and thank you to @strangergraphics-archive for such cute puppy dividers

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 15: As Sweet As Apple Pie

Prompt: "Let's try this" (and anon's ask about apple pie fic)

Mulder, Scully, and William bake an apple pie together. Rating: G, wc: 1,236

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

“Okay, Will, what do we need?” The four-year-old pulls the folded grocery list from his pocket, bringing part of the lining of his pants out with it. The boy is too preoccupied to notice and Mulder is not about to distract him.

“Apples,” Will says solemnly. They made the list together, using letters and symbols to make it easier for the boy to read it himself. “Sugar! Flour!”

“One item at a time, Will,” Mulder reminds him with a chuckle. His son is overzealous; a trait he’s inherited from both him and Scully. And stubborn. That’s the reason why they’re here in the first place. Two weeks ago, William discovered that his grandmother’s favorite dish is apple pie. Since then, he’s had it in his mind to bake one for her – from scratch.

He’s still young enough to believe his parents are superheroes who know everything and can make anything happen. Mulder offered to buy an apple pie before they went to visit her, but William said no, it had to be made from scratch. That was the most important thing – his grandmother had said so, after all.

Eventually, they gave in and made a plan. They’re good at that. Well, one of them is. Scully made the plan, and Mulder and Will will execute it. With her help. While she’s prepping the kitchen, they’re out here at the store to get everything they need.

Will puts his hands on his cheeks when he sees the large display of apple varieties.

“Daddy,” he whispers. “I don’t know which ones to get.” Luckily, Mulder comes prepared. Last night, he learned that when it comes to apple pies, an apple is not just an apple.

“We’ll get different ones,” he explains to William, holding him up so that he can pick the fruit. “Look, this one’s called Granny Smith. They’re really tart.”

“Does grandma like tart?”

“She does. And to give it a bit of sweetness,” Mulder adds, ruffling his son’s hair, “we’re gonna get some Gala.” He points to the apples and William picks them with the precision of a scientist.

“Now what else do we need?”

“Flour and sugar!” William grins at him and Mulder wheels their cart toward the next aisle. They find everything they need and get a box of cookies as a reward. While Mulder loads their car, William nibbles on one of them, unable to keep his little legs still.

“I hope Grandma loves the pie.”

“She will, honey,” Mulder assures William. “She absolutely will.”

*

Back at home, Scully has her hair up in a ponytail and an apron tied around her waist. She reminds Mulder of all the times when he called her up to do an autopsy at ungodly hours. He gives her a kiss and hands over William. He, too, gets a makeover and an apron, because they know how messy it can get in the kitchen. There’s still some dough on the ceiling from when Scully and Will tried to surprise Mulder with cookies one day. Now, they buy their cookies at the store.

“Mommy, we have all the ingredients,” Will says, licking his mouth after sipping apple juice from a cup. He can barely contain his happiness, stomping his feet. Mulder takes the cup from his hands so that they don’t make a mess before they even begin, and William jumps up and down.

“Can we start now?” he asks, clapping his hands.

“Let Operation Apple Pie begin,” Mulder says earnestly, making William giggle.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Scully leans against him, her arm around his waist.

“No,” he admits, “but we’ll figure it out, right? We’ve defeated a liver-eating mutant, how hard can it be to bake an apple pie?” William stares at them open-mouthed. If there’s one thing he loves more than doing nice things for his grandmother, it’s hearing old X-files stories. Much to Scully’s chagrin. Only last week William had crawled into their bed in the middle of the night, claiming a Mothman was after him. Mulder had merely given her a sheepish smile.

“Later, Will,” he says now. “We have to focus on making this apple pie. Doctor Scully, what is the first step?”

“Slicing and dicing,” she replies. “The apples.”

They sit at the kitchen apple, with William in Mulder’s lap, and cut the apples.

“You’re doing so well, Will.” His son is too preoccupied to even hear the compliment.

“The apples have to be perfect,” the boy says. “This is will be the best apple pie in the world!”

At least they try to make it the best in the world. They let William combine the apple slices, spices, sugar, and floor. He squeals in delight as all three of them work on blending the ingredients.

“I pour! I pour!” The boy declares when it’s time to transfer the apple filing to the bottom crust. Both Mulder and Scully hold their breath, but their son takes his time and knows what he’s doing. Once the filling is in the form, he grins up at them.

“So proud of you,” Scully says, kissing the top of his head. Mulder is the one who puts the second layer of dough over the filling. All under William’s watchful eyes.

“Now, Dr. Scully, you have to slice it.”

“Is it done?” William asks in excitement.

“It still has to go into the oven, Will,” Scully reminds her son. His mouth makes a small o.

“I watch the apple pie,” he declares, sitting himself in front of the oven right after Mulder has put it inside. “How long does it have to be in the oven, Daddy?”

“Half an hour.”

“But that’s forever!” Both Mulder and Scully chuckle. William watches the apple pie, occasionally talking to it and asking it to please come out perfect. Mulder and Scully clean the kitchen and decide on take-out for dinner.

Once the timer dings, William jumps up and runs circles around Mulder.

“Careful, sweetie,” Scully says, taking him by the shoulders so that he doesn’t burn himself.

“Is it done? Is it, Daddy?”

“Not just yet,” Mulder says and William’s face falls. “It needs another half hour.”

“Another forever!”

Still, William doesn’t leave his place by the oven. Not until the timer dings for the second time.

“Now!” The boy yells. “We have to take it out. Now.”

“He gets that from you,” Mulder mumbles, smiling at Scully, who rolls her eyes. The pie comes out, filling the kitchen with the most delicious scent. William holds his nose up in the air and sniffs.

“It looks great,” Mulder says, observing the pie.

“It does,” Scully agrees.

“Let’s try it.”

“No!” William exclaims. “It’s for grandma. We can’t eat it.”

“You don’t want to try it?” He shakes his head.

“We have to call grandma,” he says.”

“Now?” Scully asks her son.

“Now.” He doesn’t even wait for his parents and runs out of the kitchen. He finds his father’s cell phone faster than Mulder himself ever could. “Call grandma.” Mulder hands the phone over to Scully with a look that seems to say, ‘your family’.

They’re all huddled together as they wait for Maggie Scully to pick up the phone.

“Hello? Fox is that you? Is everything okay?”

“Grandma it’s me!” William yells. “I made you apple pie! You have to come over now 'cause we can’t try it without you!”

And everyone laughs.

[pjsk-hot-takes]

To add onto Anons before me I’ve noticed that whenever misogyny is brought up in the PJSK fandom the people talking about it always specifically refer to L/N, MMJ and even N25. Which.

Actually I think we should talk about Emu Nene An and Kohane more. They face SO much misogyny. Constantly. And nobody even mentions them in discussions about misogyny BECAUSE of said misogyny. Literally every single time an Emunene or Anhane song comes out people call it bad or say it should’ve gone to someone else. Every time. Without fail. It gets ignored at best outright hated at worst.

Ok so thought experiment time. Name a popular Emunene or Anhane song that’s as beloved or gets as much attention as Aun no Beats and Fixer.

If you couldn’t name one - that isn’t even because they don’t have bangers people just don’t like women unless they’re standing right next to men. Anhane alone has Imperial Girl and Odo and Pheles and Love is War and the Night Sky Patrol of Tomorrow and Butterfly on your Right Shoulder archives and you’re telling me that none of those are “good enough”????? Idk I think that’s just bias. Ruikasa and Akitoya songs have gotten popular with worse. Anhane and Emunene could drop the most jaw dropping gorgeous songs ever and not a single person would care and I firmly believe and will stand by that statement.

This isn’t even getting into how they’re treated in group covers!!!!!! Everybody ignores or hates on them!!!! If people feel like they got even slightly more lines than Ruikasa or Akitoya, even in their *own focus songs* (cough forward cough) they get so upset. And yet when Anhane and Emunene get the EXACT same treatment in Ruikasa or Akitoya songs nobody says a single thing!!!

And that’s not just speculation I KNOW that’s the case I can literally prove it. An has three total solo lines in the entirety of blender. That’s the exact same amount of solo lines as Toya gets in Ready Steady. They pretty much have the exact same amount of duet lines as well. In both songs. But Ready Steady is infamous and hated for it whereas blender nobody has even pointed this out and it’s universally beloved. It’s not even just a “blender is a focus song” thing because this happened with Forward too. It’s just misogyny.

I’ve seen people complain about Daybreak Frontline. Because and I quote “I hate it when the girls get most of the lines”. I can’t even go into any of the Nene or Emu tags without filtering every single Tsukasa and Rui tag first and even then finding any sort of content is almost impossible I think that’s a problem.

People will call Kohane “just a girl” despite the fact that she has a solid character arc and a personality and development. You can think she’s boring or not for you but????????? Don’t call her “just a girl”????? Esp not when she has social difficulties that are intentionally supposed to be relatable to the audience. A lot of people might actually relate to her character and journey even if they don’t necessarily like her. Idk leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

An has it only SLIGHTLY better because there’s a niche little fanbase for her and she’s somewhat popular (in the western fanbase. I think Kohane is more popular in Japan iirc.) but she still gets treated as an accessory to Akito and Toya just like Kohane. Also people keep trying to be weird and frame her as abusive or toxic which. Considering that possibility isn’t like a bad thing but people are just straight up reaching to try to prove stuff that either isn’t implied at any point or is outright refuted in the text just to villainize her??? Which is weird??? Especially because these people will turn around and defend Rui and Akito. Like. What did she ever do to you….. you’re willing to defend Rui who has canonically put people in mortal danger because teehee autism (I am autistic FYI I still think that’s a really stupid thing to use as justification especially if he’s aware it’s dangerous????) but An. Just existing with her fear of abandonment was too much??????

I could go ON and on and on there are so many examples….. help me……… help me anons…..

It’s not even that liking Akito and Toya or Rui and Tsukasa is inherently bad!!!!! But the favoritism as a whole is…….. something. Especially when it turns into hating the fem characters.

Also Mizuki suffers this too with Rui as another anon mentioned and it’s like. Really guys. Like first off it’s not about him it’s about Mizuki and if you’re gonna involve anyone else it should be the Nightcord girlies. Second off It’s a double whammy because people will bring up Rui but make no mention of An despite the fact that An is the one who’s canonically defended Mizuki from transphobes. Like. Why only Rui.

(I tried to word this as neutrally as possible I hope it didn’t come off as too aggressive ausuxuvhxhgxhgshg…. Anyways….. introspection and growth is good and cool actually…. Also I’m using Anhane and Emunene and Akitoya and Ruikasa for ease of use not as like a ship thing just to clarify it’s just tiring typing out each name individually)

.