#I’ve never been scared like this before
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rafeswhre · 2 days ago
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orrrr rafe having to deal with a tipsy reader but lowkey being overwhelmed at the whole situation cuz she’s being so lovey dovey and clingy but they’re not dating? 😭
rafe cameron x fem!reader
warnings: mentions of alcohol, suggestive comments
a/n: this is my first time posting i’m so scared loll hope you like it, thanks for sending it🫶🏼 btw english isn’t my first language, let me know any mistakes.
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“I don’t know, Top!” You laughed loudly while talking to Topper, who, to be honest, wasn’t actually funny. It was probably just the number of drinks you’d already had.
“Girl, you’re tipsy!” Topper laughed at you while sipping from his whiskey glass.
“I’m not.” You rolled your eyes and tried to take another shot—at least, you tried.
“You’re done.” Rafe took the shot from your hand and moved it away from you. By the way, who knows where he had come from; you hadn’t seen him since the party started.
“What do you mean I’m done? I’m just starting.” You gave the guy in front of you a funny look.
“I mean you’re done, princess. Let’s go.” Rafe took your arm and started guiding you through the crowd.
“Baby, you’re soooo boring.” You pouted at him once you arrived in the parking lot.
“Baby?” He raised his eyebrows, looking at you.
“What’s wrong? You call me princess all the damn time, I don’t say shit to ya, big boy.” You rolled your eyes.
“Watch that mouth of yours.” He leaned back against his car.
“Why are you so grumpy all the time?” You slowly got closer to him, resting your hands on his shoulders and giving them a little squeeze.
Rafe looked closely at your hands moving down his arms. “I’m not grumpy all the time.”
“I’m not grumpy all the time.” You imitated him in a funny voice and burst out laughing before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “’Course you are.” You whispered in his ear.
Rafe cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at your eyes. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He tried to escape your little grip.
“I don’t wanna go home, Ray!” You pouted again. “Let’s stay here; we could have so much fun! More fun than we’d have in your car, let me tell ya.”
“Why are you so complicated?” He rolled his eyes.
“Why are you so boring?” You teased him, poking his arms. “Although I can think of ways to have fun in your car too.” You got close to him, giving him a significant look.
“Stop saying stuff like that.” He opened his eyes wide, feeling out of place.
“Are you freaking out, Rafey?” you asked, teasing.
“Don’t call me that.” He frowned.
“Why not? That’s what all your bitches call you.”
“No! Just- just get in the car, kay?” He opened the passenger door so you could get in.
“We adore a gentleman.” You said as you climbed into the car. He closed the door and walked around the car to get into the driver’s seat.
The atmosphere filled with an overwhelming silence; Rafe hadn’t even started the car. You felt a little guilty.
While it was true that you weren’t entirely sober, you weren’t drunk either. You knew what you were doing; it was just that the bit of alcohol had given you the confidence to tell him things you wouldn’t say when fully sober.
“Rafe?” you asked nervously.
“Mmh?” He didn’t even look at you.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—I know we’re friends; I didn’t mean to make you feel bad—” Suddenly, you felt like the alcohol in your body had disappeared.
“Hey, hey.” He looked at you. “It’s alright, it’s not that, kay?” He buried his head in his hands.
“So? What is it?” You tilted your head to the side, confused.
He sighed. “You know, all your attitudes and shit.” He waved his hand in the air, trying to make you understand. “You’re getting all touchy and clingy.”
“Oh—” You looked away.
“No, no, hey.” He gently took your face and made you look at him. “Look at me, baby. It’s not a bad thing; it’s alright—it’s just—you’re kinda cold all the time. I’ve never seen you this way, it freaked me out.”
“You’ve never been with a tipsy girl?” You giggled.
“Nah, yeah, I have. I said I’ve never seen you this way. It’s different.” He turned on the car.
“What do you mean? Why would it be?”
He turned on the radio.
“Are you ignoring me, Rafe?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” You frowned.
“Nah, I’m not.” He said while steering with one hand on the wheel.
You sighed and rolled your eyes.
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wonderjanga · 3 days ago
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The IRS
Billy doesn’t pay taxes. Anything related to taxes, he doesn’t know about.
M’gann: “What’s an IRS?”
Kid Flash “They’re these guys who collect taxes.”
M’gann: “Really? I’ve never paid taxes before. Are they gonna come after me?” *sounds slightly concerned*
Kid Flash: “Maybe-”
Marvel: *comes out of the kitchen with cookies* “No, they’re not. M’gann, the IRS isn’t real.”
M’gann: “It isn’t?”
Marvel: “Yeah, it isn’t. Wally’s just pulling your leg.”
Kid Flash: “Uh… no, no I’m not… Marvel you do know IRS is real, right? It’s important to me that you know that.”
Marvel: “Well, they’ve never come for me and I haven’t paid a single tax in my life.”
Kid Flash: *sounds completely concerned* “That means you’re committing tax fraud.”
Later…
YJ and Marvel: *all huddled around Tim who’s hunched over a computer*
Marvel: “Why’s is everyone here?”
Robin!Tim: “What do you mean, Cap? This is a celebratory moment. We didn’t even know you could commit a crime, yet here we are.” *typing on computer*
Marvel: “Why’d you pull up C.C. Batson?”
Robin!Tim: “Cap, you’re not exactly hiding your face. Anyone could find out who you were if they just dug a little deeper than the surface.”
Artemis: “Your name is C.C.?” *tries to see the computer*
Robin!Tim: “Charles actually.”
Zatanna: “You look like a Charles.”
Marvel: “I do? Huh. Well, anyways, I’ve been legally pronounced dead so I shouldn’t have to pay them right?”
Robin!Tim: “Well, you’re alive now. That means that you technically faked your death and that also technically means that you’re committing tax fraud so…” *types on computer* “You should owe 5 billion to the IRS.”
Marvel: *sounds completely devastated* “WHAT?”
Aqualad: “How could he possibly have racked up that much?”
Robin!Tim: “Well, Cap’s been “dead” *does quotes with his hands* since 1958 so he put off 66 years of taxes. Plus, the price of a dollar went up as the years passed so yeah.”
Marvel: “Oh my gods…” *sounds like he’s about to have a mental breakdown*
Kid Flash: “Wow. You’re actually an egregious tax evader. 5 billion is insane.”
Even More Later…
Batman: *came to check on the kids*
Marvel: *in a corner, rocking back and forth, practically crying*
Batman: “What’s wrong with him?”
Robin!Tim: “He owes 5 billion to the IRS.”
Batman: “…What?”
Robin!Tim: “Yeah, I know, right?”
Batman and Robin!Tim: *watch as Conner comes by and puts a bunch of blankets on Marvel. They then see M’gann come in with some hot coco and hand it to Cap*
Batman: *sighs* “I’ll get the money.” *walks away*
Robin!Tim: “Hey, Cap! You can stop worrying now! Batman is gonna hook you up.
And that’s how, after much refusal from Billy and a lot of peer pressure from both the YJ and Mr. Batman, itty bitty Billy Batson ended up with 5 billion dollars. And since he didn’t want to be arrested for tax evasion, he was too scared to hand it over to the IRS. (It’s not like he knew how to pay them anyways) But hey, Billy now gets to treat himself, Mary, and Freddy. They now have a decent apartment, better clothes, and lots and lots of food money, and potentially toy money? Billy’s been eyeing these Bulletman and Bulletgirl action figures for his and Mary’s birthday coming up. He hopes Mary will like them, or at least the Bulletgirl figure, he knows she’s a big fan.
Also, I have no idea if the 5 billion dollar thing is right, I pulled that from somewhere and I honestly forgot where.
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daisymbin · 2 days ago
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have you ever been in love? - choi seungcheol
warnings: none
pairings: choi seungcheol x reader
genre: friends to ???
wc: 900
check out my masterlist!
"have you ever been in love?" you ask, your eyes still fixated on the carefree clouds drifting lazily through the night sky, illuminated by the city lights.
seungcheol chuckles softly, the sound getting caught in the cool breeze that surrounds you both. he takes another sip of his beer, masking the way his heart races. how much more obvious could he be? are you really that oblivious?
"i suppose i have," he answers, his voice steady and calm even as his eyes can't help but trace the outline of your face, the way your features soften in the moonlight.
"what's it like?" you turn your head slightly, curiosity written in your expression. he's not sure how he should feel about your question.
seungcheol pauses, thinking about the feeling he’s harbored for you for so long. "it’s... terrifying and exhilarating at the same time," he says, a wistful smile playing at his lips. "it feels like wanting to be someone's everything, wanting to make them smile even when the world feels too heavy for myself. it’s being so scared of losing them that it’s all you think about. but at the same time, it makes everything brighter. love changes the way you see things, you know?"
you take a moment to process his words, letting them sink in, before you say quietly, “i guess..i dont know.”
“have you ever been in love?” he asks carefully, its a past tense question so it shouldnt hurt….right?
"i'm...not sure if i’ve ever been in love before.. but lately, i’ve started feeling things i’ve never felt before, and i wonder if it’s love. that's why im asking you.”
seungcheol’s heart stops, breaking a little at the thought of you loving someone else. his voice comes out smaller, almost vulnerable. "does what you’re feelin…m-match what i said?"
you think for a moment and then nod slowly. "yeah," you admit, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks.
his breath catches & he feels his stomach churning. this isn't a past tense situation, this is present tense, NOW. "who is it?" he asks as his voice trembles. the 4 years he's spent pinning over you seems to have made him timid tonight, he's not usually like this, but still, he braces himself for an answer that he knows will shatter him.
you hesitate, your eyes finding his, sparkling with adoration. "you," you whisper, your voice firm with sincerity.
seungcheol’s eyes widen, and for a moment, the world stills. and then, without thinking, he’s reaching for you, the biggest smile breaking out on his face. "me?" he repeats, as if he can’t quite believe it.
you nod, "you...you like me too right?"
"like?" seungcheol laughs, finding humour in your choice of words, his laugh holds a hint of disbelief, his eyes crinkling with pure joy. "like?" he repeats, his voice still colored with amusement. "i don't just like you," he confesses, his voice growing softer, more sincere. "i've been completely, ridiculously in love with you."
you feel your heart skip a beat, disbelief and hope swirling in your chest. "really?" you whisper, your voice small, almost afraid that this moment could shatter like a delicate glass figurine.
his gaze softens as he reaches for your hand, his warm fingers intertwining with yours. "really," he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
"did you really not notice?" he asks, "i almost started to think you knew but just didnt have the heart to reject me."
your cheeks flushes as you think about all the little moments you'd noticed—the small ways he always seemed to look out for you, the way he'd remember the tiniest details about your life, and how his eyes would light up every time you entered a room. "i just... i always thought it was wishful thinking...like the time you carried extra snacks just because you knew i'd forget to eat, or when you'd always find an excuse to walk me home, even when you lived in the opposite direction. or how you’d get so quiet and protective whenever you thought someone was being unfair to me."
seungcheol's eyes widen with a mix of surprise and endearment, a fond smile spreading across his lips. "so you noticed all that?" he asks, his voice warm with a hint of embarrassment.
"i did," you say, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "but it just seemed too good to be true."
he pulls you a little closer, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mixture of adoration and relief. "it wasn’t too good to be true," he whispers, and then, with the most tender of touches, he leans in.
when his lips meet yours, it's everything and more. it's gentle, sweet, and filled with all the love that has been building between you two, unspoken but always there, waiting for the right moment.
when you finally pull away, you're both breathless, cheeks flushed. seungcheol's smile is still there, brighter than ever.
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itsrlymine · 17 hours ago
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Manifesting and Why Feelings Don’t Matter. They Never Did.
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Some of you care way too much about your feelings for me and honestly…. It’s annoying. Feelings got y’all in a chokehold yet they have nothing to do with you getting your desires. Your feelings didn’t stop your sp from coming back and treating how you wanted them to. Your feelings didn’t change the fact that you got the house/apartment you have always wanted. Your feelings didn’t change the fact that you still reconciled with an old friend from years ago who barely even remembers the disagreement. Whether positive or not, it’s all about the meaning you give them. 
“I want to manifest sp back but I don’t feel like—.“
“I want to make money without working but I feel guilty and—.“
“I know I can manifest whatever I want but what if I feel uncomfort—.“
SHUT UP AND JUST KNOW YOU HAVE WHAT YOU WANT. KNOW IT NOW
No matter how you "feel", you are still the creator of your experience. 
If you are feeling nervous about getting a certain desire, who cares? It’s yours anyways.
If you are feeling scared about something not happening, who cares? You got it and it happened anyways.
If you are feeling like you don’t know how to manifest and create your reality, who cares? You are still creating even if it’s something you don’t want. Just change your perspective. 
Your feelings aren’t your enemies but they are also not your God. At all. You are and you can dictate whether or not the “feelings” you have matter. They don’t but you can also use them to your advantage. I’ve been angry about tons of things before and instead of focusing that anger on the situation at hand, I focused it towards what I wanted to happen instead. 
“F*ck this! I’m literally getting what I want. I have that sh*it right now what am I even talking about “getting” for???? That sh*t is in my freakin face!!” 
If you want to feel anything, feel peace. When I say feel, I don’t mean create or conjure up an emotion within yourself. By feeling, just still your thoughts and mind. There you will find peace— your true essence. Be comfortable there whether it’s for two seconds or two hours. From that peace is where all creation springs. Remind yourself of who you are and know it will never change. You are still in control. 
What you say goes, not what you feel. You can experience all the human emotions —energies in motion— you want or don’t want but at the end of the day none of that matters. Why? Because you create. You choose. Not your feelings. Not your emotions. Even physical sensations don’t hold any power until you give them power. I’ve healed myself a number of times from different pains whether it was cramps, headaches, stomachaches or toothaches and even healing my second ACL faster than the first by thinking as the person who doesn’t feel pain anymore/is healed. It is truly easier said than done because it’s done and easy asf to say. Be so serious. Divorce your feelings, take your ring back and decide who you are in spite of them! 
And don’t let me get started on y’all that let the 3d make you feel a certain way. You are allowing that the 3d to dictate how you feel and keeping yourself in a perpetual cycle you don’t want to be in. Stop it. Get help. Help yourself. 
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seitmai · 2 days ago
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Slowly, you sit up, blinking into your lap as Jake says something about an ambulance. You pass a hand over your brow, noting the sweat that’s gathered there, as Bradley starts listing off the various nutrient deficiencies that you may or may not possess. You glance up at the two of them feebly.
Not Bradley going over nutrient deficiencies lmao
“Did you take something?” he asks. “Not judging,” he adds. “Just need to tell the ambulance what you’re on.”
Hahah fair😅
“Fuck,” you mutter. “You guys actually called an ambulance?” “We thought you died,” Jake replies curtly. You look up at the back of his head as he waves over the medics. “Maybe check for a pulse next time,” you say, your ability to utilize sarcasm apparently restored.
Are those two not getting any first aid/cpr training at the Navy lol?
“I’m sorry,” he breathes and then squeezes his eyes shut and brings his hands up to his face. He pulls in a lungful of air, and then another. And then he lets out a sob. You open your eyes all the way and even lift your head up off the cushion slightly. “Are you crying?”Jake inhales sharply again and then releases an unsteady breath. He rubs the moisture from his eyes away roughly and lets out another sigh. “You scared the shit out of me,” he mutters, his voice just barely above a whisper. His glistening eyes finally meet yours.
🥺🥺🥺
"You’ve seen planes being shot out of the sky,” you remind him. Surely this can’t have been more traumatic than his job.
For real!
Jake gapes at you. “Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.” You grimace. “Eww. You don’t have to be so graphic.”
🤭🤭🤭
Jake chuckles and sniffles. “I’ve never been more terrified in my life.”
It's actually really cute how worried he is 🥹
You cringe at the green liquid in the glass. “I prefer to chew my food.” “Well, you’re in luck then,” he says. “Because the blender’s busted so this might be a little chunky.”
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As Bradley shuffles about the kitchen, you contemplate your relationship with Jake, wondering if Bradley might be right. You fell for Jake long before he became boyfriend material and there are qualities about him you wouldn’t change for the world. But have there been things that you’ve tried to correct? Have you been unwittingly changing him? Shaping him into something he was never meant to be?
Noooo don't let this get in your head!!
“Oh my god, I love you!” you exclaim. Jake’s hand freezes in midair as he’s about to set down his offering on the coffee table. You meet his gaze in alarm, realizing what you’d just said. What you’d just admitted. Meanwhile, Bradley strolls into the living room, humming a tune, as oblivious as ever.
Bradley just sipping on his chunky smoothie with his head on another planet not registering a thing lol
“Wait for what?” you yell. “For you to finish freaking out?” Jake looks like he might be on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I wasn’t looking for you to say it back,” you declare. “But I admit that I was hoping for a more considerate acknowledgement.”
I think that's reasonable..
“I never would’ve gone there with you – kissed you, lied to Bradley” – Jake frowns slightly. “Never in a million years, Baby B. If I didn’t know without a shadow of a doubt that I was in love with you.” You gaze up at him, justifiably speechless. The fact that he didn’t make a move until he was absolutely certain sets your heart aflutter. You squeeze yourself into him and mutter sheepishly, “So, you love me back, then?” Jake chuckles and wraps his arms around you tightly. “You’re unbelievable,” he says. “Of course I fucking love you back.”
🥰🥰🥰
Brother's Best Friend - Part 14
Jake Seresin x F!Reader
Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.
CW: swearing, a smidge of angst, and some good ol' fluff because that's what BBF is all about!
WC: 2900+
Part 1 | Masterlist
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You look up as the door creaks open, your hand sweating against Jake’s palm. Your chest tightens and your head swims. Suddenly, your vision blurs.
You hear your name, but it’s muted, like someone is saying it underwater. You open your eyes and see two anxious faces hovering over you. You try to sit up, but your head is heavy and your limbs are weak and you’re disoriented because Jake and Bradley’s voices are getting louder and more overwhelming with every second. You want to tell them to be quiet but the words can’t seem to form in your mouth, or, rather, you’re far too exhausted to make the effort to speak.
Slowly, you sit up, blinking into your lap as Jake says something about an ambulance. You pass a hand over your brow, noting the sweat that’s gathered there, as Bradley starts listing off the various nutrient deficiencies that you may or may not possess. You glance up at the two of them feebly.
Both enormous, grown-ass men are crouched before you, staring at you in terror.
“What happened?” Jake asks and you blink at him slowly, wondering the same thing.
“Are you okay?” Bradley says, tilting his head to the side so he could catch your gaze.
You nod uncertainly, because you’re not a hundred percent sure that you are. You look around unhurriedly, taking in your surroundings. You’re on the porch of your house in a cute little dress, and the porchlight is on because it’s dark out. And then it hits you like a ton of bricks. You’re still on the porch. Has Bradley been informed of the relationship? Or did he already know? Was he angry? Did you get caught in the crossfire and get knocked out?
You blink anxiously – and more alertly – between Jake and Bradley, trying to assess the situation. Neither of them seems to be paying any attention to one another; only to you. “What…” you start, but your voice croaks and you bring a hand up to your throat self-consciously. You clear your throat and start again. “What’s going on?” you ask casually, as though you’re not sitting unsteadily on the ground with no recollection of the last god knows how many minutes.
Bradley’s eyes widen in outrage. “What’s going on is you fucking fainted!”
You look at him with soaring eyebrows. “I did?”
“Right before Bradley came out to take out the trash,” Jake says, giving you a meaningful look.
“Ohhh,” you reply, dragging out the word. “The trash.” You nod again, trying to organize all of the information in your presently scrambled brain. “The trash,” you repeat.
“It’s garbage day tomorrow,” Bradley clarifies.
“Right.” You rub your sweaty palms on your thighs. “Garbage day.”
“And then you just” – Bradley makes a motion with his arm to indicate that you toppled over like a tree might fall when it’s chopped down, and you eye him thoughtfully, doubting your collapse was that dramatic. “You're lucky Seresin was here to catch you. You could have cracked your head open on the concrete.”
You glance over at Jake who’s keeping an unusually straight face. “So lucky,” you mutter without a hint of sarcasm because you don’t think you’re quite capable of that just yet. Nonetheless, Jake throws you a pointed look.
“You’re home late,” Bradley says casually, but you could tell that he’s concerned. “Did you party a little too hard?”
You furrow your eyebrows at him. “Me?” you ask, amused that he’s the one asking you this question and not the other way around.
“Did you take something?” he asks. “Not judging,” he adds. “Just need to tell the ambulance what you’re on.”
Jake briefly drops his head into his hand, but recovers just as quickly. “I don’t think she’s on anything,” he says quietly.
You give Jake a sour look because the only thing you’re on is four vintage cocktails and an espresso, and he knows it.
Bradley sighs. “Where were you, anyway?” he asks. “That Jake had to go pick you up?”
You narrow your eyes at your brother and then at your boyfriend, who is expertly avoiding your gaze. Clearly, he’s decided that Bradley is not equipped to handle two calamities in the same evening. “I was on a date,” you state contemptuously.
Jake stares at you rigidly while Bradley cringes. “I'm guessing it didn’t end well?”
You press your lips together irritably. “You could say that.”
Jake rolls his eyes and stands up. “Ambulance is here,” he says just as the ambulance pulls up and two paramedics rush up your driveway.
“Fuck,” you mutter. “You guys actually called an ambulance?”
“We thought you died,” Jake replies curtly.
You look up at the back of his head as he waves over the medics. “Maybe check for a pulse next time,” you say, your ability to utilize sarcasm apparently restored.
After you are thoroughly checked out and given the okay to stay home for the night, you trudge tiredly to the living room couch, Jake and Bradley hot on your heels.
“You should go to bed,” Jake says as you plop down into the cushions. “You need to rest.”
You close your eyes, sinking further into the cushions with a groan. “I won’t make it,” you respond, feeling the exhaustion as if it were a physical thing weighing you down.
Bradley places his hands on his hips. “Jake’s right, you need to get some sleep.”
“I am,” you whisper, your eyelids heavier than they've ever been.
“I’ve got an early day,” Bradley says apprehensively, as though he doesn’t want to leave.
“Go on, I’ll stay with her,” Jake says.
Bradley waits a beat, considering the offer, and then turns to look at his friend. “Thanks, man.” Bradley replies, giving Jake a pat on the shoulder. “I appreciate it.”
Jake nods without looking him in the eye and, once Bradley is upstairs, he approaches you slowly. He takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch.
You open your eyes about halfway, watching him warily. “I don’t think it’s contagious,” you murmur.
Jake doesn’t laugh. Instead, he eyes you grimly from his corner of the couch.
“Why aren’t you talking?” you ask, getting a little nervous because Jake isn’t normally the quiet type.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes and then squeezes his eyes shut and brings his hands up to his face. He pulls in a lungful of air, and then another. And then he lets out a sob.
You open your eyes all the way and even lift your head up off the cushion slightly. “Are you crying?”
Jake inhales sharply again and then releases an unsteady breath. He rubs the moisture from his eyes away roughly and lets out another sigh. “You scared the shit out of me,” he mutters, his voice just barely above a whisper. His glistening eyes finally meet yours.
You stare at him. “Did you actually think I died?”
“I’ve never seen anybody faint before,” he admits.
“You’ve seen planes being shot out of the sky,” you remind him. Surely this can’t have been more traumatic than his job.
Jake gapes at you. “Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.”
You grimace. “Eww. You don’t have to be so graphic.”
Jake chuckles and sniffles. “I’ve never been more terrified in my life.”
You drop your gaze into your lap. “Is that why you didn’t tell him?”
Jake sighs and brings a fist to his mouth. “What would I say, Baby B? ‘Hey, by the way, I’m dating your sister and she’s so stressed out about it that she’s fallen unconscious on the doorstep?’ Sorry, bro?”
You pout sullenly. “That’s not why I passed out.”
“Are you sure?” he asks. “Because if I’m the reason –”
“You’re not the reason,” you assure him, although you’re fairly certain he hit the nail right on the head.
Jake releases another heavy sigh. “I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
You close your eyes and rest the back of your head on the cushion once more. “Okay, Seresin,” you respond calmly. “But, if you don’t, I will.”
Jake slides closer to you on the couch and puts his arm above your head. You lift it slightly so that he could tuck his arm underneath, and then you let him pull you in. Falling asleep in this kind of embrace is all you’ve ever wanted since you met him but, alas, this moment feels less than magical.
The following morning, you’re startled awake by an obnoxious grinding sound that gradually turns to a sort of whirring. Bradley is in the kitchen making his morning shake. You glance around the room because you’re alone on the couch.
“Is Jake gone?” you call out to your brother.
“Good morning to you too,” Bradley calls back and then walks into the living room holding two shakes. “Made you breakfast.”
You cringe at the green liquid in the glass. “I prefer to chew my food.”
“Well, you’re in luck then,” he says. “Because the blender’s busted so this might be a little chunky.”
You hold back a gag. “Thanks,” you croak, taking the glass from Bradley’s hand as he sits on the couch at your feet.
“Sleep well?” he asks, taking a large gulp of his shake.
“I think so,” you respond, propping yourself up on a throw pillow and taking a sip. “This isn’t so bad, actually.”
Bradley shoots you a self-satisfied look. “I put Nutella in yours.”
You smile at him. “Sorry for the scare.”
Bradley watches you silently for a moment before taking another swig of his breakfast. “I’m concerned, Y/N.”
You sit up straighter. “I’m fine now.”
Bradley shakes his head. “I’m talking about Jake.”
You blink at him innocently while your guts twist in on themselves with dread. “What about Jake?”
“Have you noticed anything off about him lately?” he asks.
“Uh.” You gulp, stalling. “Not really. Have you?”
Bradley sighs. “He’s just been sort of…I dunno. Weird.”
“How so?” you ask, even though you know exactly how so. No doubt Bradley has taken note of Jake’s sudden disinterest in women and it strikes him as odd, considering his history.
“That chick he was dating, remember the one we teased him about? I’m pretty sure he’s still with her,” he says.
You take a long sip of your drink before responding. “Is that a bad thing?”
“I’m not sure,” he says. “I just have a bad feeling about it.”
You glance up at him nervously. “Why?”
Bradley meets your gaze with a defeated expression. “She’s changing him.”
You are far too guilt-ridden to keep looking your brother in the eye, so you drop your gaze to instead study the puke-green color of your shake. “For the worse?” you ask quietly.
Bradley sighs. “I can’t tell.”
You bite your lip, trying not to frown too hard. “He shouldn’t have to change,” you say.
Bradley nods slowly. “That’s what I was thinking.” You swallow another chunky mouthful of your breakfast shake as Bradley rises from the couch. “You should get some more sleep,” he says. “I’ll see you after work.”
As Bradley shuffles about the kitchen, you contemplate your relationship with Jake, wondering if Bradley might be right. You fell for Jake long before he became boyfriend material and there are qualities about him you wouldn’t change for the world. But have there been things that you’ve tried to correct? Have you been unwittingly changing him? Shaping him into something he was never meant to be?
As you sit there in thought, Jake walks through the front door with a paper bag and a tray of coffees. “I brought breakfast!” he calls when Bradley peeks his head out of the kitchen.
“Thank god,” you mutter, setting down your half-drunk shake.
Bradley gives you a look. “I heard that.”
You purse your lips to hide a grin. “I’m hungry!”
“I fed you!” Bradley exclaims.
“I’m hungry for real food, not plants,” you whine.
Jake enters the living room proudly. “Real food, coming right up,” he declares.
“Oh my god, I love you!” you exclaim.
Jake’s hand freezes in midair as he’s about to set down his offering on the coffee table. You meet his gaze in alarm, realizing what you’d just said. What you’d just admitted. Meanwhile, Bradley strolls into the living room, humming a tune, as oblivious as ever.
Your heart pounds in your chest as Jake slowly lowers the bag onto the table, his eyes still locked on yours. “I made you breakfast,” Bradley says, sticking his hand into the bag to retrieve a wrapped bagel. “But him, you love.” Bradley proceeds to unwrap his bagel. “I see how it is,” he says after taking a bite.
You swallow around a giant lump in your throat, suddenly not remotely hungry. “I…” you start, your voice wavering uncontrollably. “I… love food,” you conclude.
Bradley raises his eyebrows. “You were talking to the bagels?”
You notice Jake suck in his cheeks as he tries not to laugh.
You nod vehemently, feeling like you might just faint again. “Can you pass me one?” You reach your hand out, ignoring Jake’s face completely as he hands you a bagel.
“Alright, kids,” Bradley says. “I’m out.” He starts for the door but, just before leaving, he calls out, “Behave.”
The sound of the door closing behind him makes you severely nauseated, because it directly precedes the moment you have to face Jake. You glance up at him slowly as he digs his own bagel out of the bag. Finally, his eyes meet yours. “’Sup, Baby B?” he says nonchalantly, and you can tell that he’s prepared to overlook the slip if you are. For all he knows, it was a completely innocent statement and meant nothing at all.
But you know otherwise. And perhaps it’s the residual stress or the lack of sleep, or perhaps it’s the fear that your brother might be right about your influence over Jake, but you suddenly feel compelled to tell him. You suddenly feel like he has a right know. “I wasn’t talking to the bagels,” you blurt out.
Jake glances up at you in surprise. He gives you a small smile. “You don’t say,” he responds wryly.
You let out an impatient sigh, annoyed that he’s being so flippant. “I’m being serious.”
Jake nods. “Oh, I know. You were talking to the coffee, obviously.” He tries to hand you a cup.
“Jake!” you exclaim. “Stop being an idiot! I’m telling you I love you!”
Jake sets the cup down and blinks at you with a small, wonderstruck smile, like he can’t quite believe that you’ve said it again. “You mean it?” he asks.
You stare at him wide-eyed, alarmed that that’s all he’s got to say. But it’s not as if you can take it back now. You nod hesitantly.
Jake straightens his back and grimaces, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
You watch him in outrage. His reluctance to engage on account of your brother is no longer cute. You attempt to compose yourself, to hide the pain your face might otherwise betray. You rise from the couch in silence and begin to walk away.
“No” – Jake starts, catching you by the arm before you’ve even cleared the coffee table – “that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.”
You yank your arm out of his grasp, but he just takes your waist instead. “Let go!” you shout, twisting away, and Jake immediately releases you, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Wait,” he pleads desperately.
“Wait for what?” you yell. “For you to finish freaking out?”
Jake looks like he might be on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“I wasn’t looking for you to say it back,” you declare. “But I admit that I was hoping for a more considerate acknowledgement.”
Jake takes a step toward you. “Can I touch you again?” he asks, holding his hands about six inches away from either of your arms.
“No,” you respond stubbornly, not looking him in the eye.
Jake sighs, bringing his hands up to his eyes and sliding them bleakly down his face. “Do you really think I would have ever done this if I wasn’t already in love with you?”
You glance up at him, still frowning. “Done what?” you ask quietly.
Jake furrows his eyebrows. “Can I please touch you?”
You press your lips together to keep them from quivering and nod your head.
Jake put his palms on either side of your face and takes another step toward you so that he could rest his forehead over yours. “I’m sorry I’m an idiot,” he says.
You let out a shallow sigh, wondering if perhaps you’ve overreacted. “You don’t have to apologize for being yourself,” you respond glumly.
Jake snorts. “Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” you say, feeling your mouth stretch into a tiny smile despite your irritation.
Jake brushes his thumbs across your cheeks. “I loved you before I even realized I liked you.”
You meet his gaze skeptically. “That seems improbable.”
Jake grins. “Ever the romantic.”
You roll your eyes as his hands fall to your shoulders.
“I never would’ve gone there with you – kissed you, lied to Bradley” – Jake frowns slightly. “Never in a million years, Baby B. If I didn’t know without a shadow of a doubt that I was in love with you.”
You gaze up at him, justifiably speechless. The fact that he didn’t make a move until he was absolutely certain sets your heart aflutter. You squeeze yourself into him and mutter sheepishly, “So, you love me back, then?”
Jake chuckles and wraps his arms around you tightly. “You’re unbelievable,” he says. “Of course I fucking love you back.”
Hangman Tag List:
A/N: The rest of the list will be in the comments. As always, let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore.
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oceantornadoo · 22 hours ago
Text
where you’ve been assigned to working with john price on a report and the proximity is getting to you both…
(f!reader)
-
late nights pouring over reports in the base conference room with price. he tries to bring you coffee the second night and adjusts to black tea after watching the displeased twist of your lips. you start across the table, a respectful and professional distance, but by the third night, you’re shoulder to shoulder, peering over at each other’s screens silently. the information you’re reviewing is grave, life changing to the folks who live it, but you can’t help your laugh when john struggles to turn a pdf into a word document.
you give up on wearing business professional after the incident. the rip of your skirt as you jumped up from excitement, finally finding a breakthrough in your work. john’s eyes practically burned into your thigh, like the sight of your tights over newly bare skin offended him. you didn’t even notice until he pointed it out, swallowing thickly as he muttered “got a problem there, love.” before excusing himself to bring back more tea.
when you switched to wearing jeans, john started wondering if he had offended some sort of god in the past life. why was there so much bending involved in your work? bending over the table to find a report in the mess of papers, your ass practically wiggling in his face. sneaking past his shoulder so you can see if he’s made any progress, the glimpse of your thigh off the chair reminding him of what it would like if- never mind. he swore your perfume was laced into your clothes, a cloud of it remaining after you went home for the night, your familiar scent searing itself into the back of his brain.
“john?” your voice pulled him out of his trance of wondering how he’d gotten here. it had been a week of this proximity torture with no end in sight. “yeah?” your pen tapped the picture in front of you. “this guy’s copying your muttonchops.” snorting, john leaned over, staring hard at the suspect’s picture as he tried not to focus about being six inches from your lap. “nah, ‘s a different style. mine’s more grown out, his is jus’ a shadow.” you hummed thoughtfully. “didn’t realize there was so much discourse in the beard community. seems a bit confusing.” he laughed, that short bark that made you smile despite yourself.
“‘s not all that confusing. here, y’ can feel the difference.” he grabbed your hand and pulled it into his beard, manicured fingers diving into his facial hair. you scratched it on instinct and were rewarded with a low throaty groan and a fluttering of his eyelids. “so soft, john.” the normally serious captain seemed like putty in your hands as your fingers explored the line of his jaw. it was quiet for a long moment, john’s eyes closed as you took him in without his usual surly stare. “yeah, honey?” his eyes flicked open as you stopped your movement, thumb near the corner of his mouth. your mouth gaped open, the moment broken.
“fuck, i’ve made you uncomfortable.” john pulled away fast, your hand dropping his face as he moved farther and farther away. “i can ask the lieutenant to finish up ‘ere, should only take a week more.” he tried to get up from his seat but you were more determined, beating him to the punch with a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. “john, stop. it’s okay.” you’d never seen him like this: unsure. “didn’t mean to say what i said, love.” you shook your head vehemently. “it’s okay, i just…no one’s ever called me honey before. kinda thought it was a sitcom thing.”
he was doing the math, picking apart every word you said, every inflection of every letter. you could see it in his eyes, the realization that you weren’t uncomfortable. the change might have scared you if hadn’t been so damn attractive. his posture perfect again, thighs flexing as his hands, big calloused hands, laid relaxed against them. he wasn’t grinning but you saw his cheek pull up, the movement of the beard you’d just been touching. it was instantaneous; the captain was back.
“and?” he stood up, your hand still on his shoulder. “and…i don’t mind it.” he was forcing you to look up, a height difference between you that you’d never notice because you both were always sitting.
“c’mere, honey.” you stepped closer, your other arm wrapping around his other shoulder. those hands wrapped around your waist and dipped lower to your upper thighs. he picked you with ease, all protests of your weight dying on your tongue as you let out a squeal. john sat you on the conference table, pushing reports and laptops out of the way to make space for his meal. “fuck, ‘ve been wantin’ you on this table for a week now.” he rubbed his hands up and down your thighs, tracing the denim of your pants. “and these jeans.” you frowned. “you don’t like my jeans?” he shook his head, thumbs exploring your waistline, tucking under your shirt to meet bare skin. “i love ‘em, darling. want t’ see you in them everyday.” he popped the top button then looked up at you for permission. you nodded, lying back on your forearms, restraining your hips from canting.
he chuckled at your confidence, unzipping you then sliding down the denim from your legs and off, along with your shoes. maybe it had been a form of manifestation or delusion, but either way you had worn your favorite pair of lacy black underwear. john seemed to appreciative, growling at the sight as his fingers brushed over your clothed pussy. “were you expectin’ someone t’ see these?” you grinned. “maybe i was hoping.” he brushed over your entrance and your hips chased the feeling, riding up to meet his fingers. “someone’s eager.” he didn’t let you reply, pressing his thumb over your entrance, rubbing up and down around your clit as wetness pooled in your underwear. you whined at his teasing, a coil building low in your stomach. “john…” he dipped his thumb under the fabric of your underwear, tracing the slickness of your slit. “hm, honey?” his low tone sent a rush of warmth into your body, a combination of domesticity and restraint. “want you, please.” he was playing down, putting his thumb inside you but knowing the angle was all wrong, it barely brushing your entrance. “want me where?” he finally pulled down your underwear, leaning his body over you, putting you face to face. “want your fingers inside me.”
john captured your lips with his own, pushing a thick middle finger into you as he pressed his thumb to your clit. you moaned loudly, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in further. “so wet f’ me, baby. you been wantin’ this?” you nodded eagerly, shutting him up with another kiss. he pumped his finger in and out as he circled patterns on your clit, the feeling of it overwhelming. you were so wet and hot, this big strong man panting into your mouth as he made you feel so good. your nipples scratched the inside of your bra as your cunt clenched around his finger. he added a second one, the fullness of it almost overwhelming. “john, i’m gonna…” he gave you another rough kiss. john pulled you closer using those fingers inside of your messy cunt, thumb pressing hard on your clit. it was so possessive and dirty that you could feel the start of your orgasm. “come f’ me, darling. go’on.” you let go, clenching hard around him. he kept going unless you went limp, finally removing his fingers with a pop. his other arm was holding you up as he tasted you on his fingers. “sweet like honey.” you rolled your eyes at his cheesiness. “you’re so full of shit.” he kissed you again, short and loving. “‘m not lyin’.” another kiss, this one to your forehead. “you wanna stay here tonight? ‘s already late.” you squirmed at the realization you were half naked in a conference room, your colleagues fingers dripping with your wetness as he stood fully clothed, his cock straining against his pants. “is that weird? or too fast? i don’t even know what you want or what i want-“ he kissed you again, this time gruff, like a captain. “jus’ come home with me, honey. ill handle the rest.” and to that, you nodded.
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itsjunear · 2 days ago
Text
Comfort
Note: Hello, loves! I guess I disappeared again 😭 I'm sorry, there's been a lot going on these past few weeks, and I wasn’t feeling very well. This is my way of making it up to you ❤❤ I'm still working on the second part of "Shadows and Whispers", but I got sidetracked, and something totally out of my element came out of it. I’m really sorry if this turns out to be a mess, I’ve never written anything obscene and explicit before, so feel free to tell me if it’s terrible! Remember, English isn’t my first language, so if there are any mistakes, don’t hesitate to let me know! Please take care of yourself! Love you all! 💙💙💙
P.S. I didn’t tag anyone because I wasn’t really sure if you’d want it, especially after disappearing for almost a month. Sorry 😭😭
Words: +1k
Warnings: Obscenity
Summary: Reader goes to comfort Azriel after he's returned from a mission. However, things take a turn, and somehow she finds herself in a sinful situation with the shadowsinger.
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I still didn't understand how the hell I had ended up in this situation.
Or rather, how I had ended up in this position.
My intentions in arriving at Az were completely genuine and innocent. I knew him well enough to know that he was absolutely frustrated with how the mission had ended, just as I also knew that he would try to hide his feelings because that was his way of dealing with everything.
When I arrived at the River House, I found him sitting at the foot of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands tangled in his dark hair. He was so out of it that he didn't even lift his head when he heard me enter and he didn't bother to pick up his wings either, a strong indicator of his mood.
Seeing him like this made my heart ache, and the urge to comfort him took hold of me, so I didn't even think when my feet carried me directly in front of him. Somehow, I sneaked my hand in and gently placed it on his cheek, forcing him to look up. His shadows were scattered and restless.
I wasn't ready for what I found in his hazel eyes: loneliness and resignation. He didn't even try to hide it from me, and that was what scared me the most. I was prepared to face the big wall he put up when something emotional was involved, but I wasn't ready for the honest vulnerability that hit me like a blow to the cheek.
"Aziel..." I let out with a shaky sigh.
He shook his head and for a second my body went rigid as I felt his arms wrap tightly around my waist and rest his head on my stomach. I reacted and instinctively placed one hand on his back, in the middle of his wings, and the other in his hair, scraping gently with my nails. In response, a shiver ran through him, and I stopped my movements abruptly.
"No" It was the first thing I heard him say since I had entered "Please... Just... continue."
I nodded even though I knew he wasn't looking at me and resumed my movements. He relaxed against me and settled his head higher, right between my breasts. HIS shadows calmed down then, and limited themselves to passing through us occasionally.
"Az..." I tried again.
“Y/n…” he interrupted me, pressing himself tighter against my body. "I need this right now. Just... tell me to stop if you don't want it."
I didn't stop him, and he decided to explore a little more, brushing his nose against the edge of my breasts, making me shiver. One of his hands that was on my waist went down to my ass and squeezed hard, but at the same time slowly, as if he wanted to melt into my skin.
A gasp of surprise escaped my lips when I felt him place soft kisses on my breasts, near the nipples, covered only by an old shirt that was too big for me. He put it in his mouth, wetting the shirt, making my hands fly straight to his hair, tangling and pulling gently. A grunt of approval came from Azriel, and all logical thought vanished from my mind, leaving me completely blank and a prisoner of sensations.
His hands became bolder reaching for one of my perfectly fitting breasts and he squeezed, making me gasp.
"You're so beautiful" he said breathily and pulled my shirt up over my head.
My breasts were exposed, and directly at the height of his lips, so he did not hesitate to put them in his mouth. I just arched my back, delighted in the way he made me feel even though I knew this was wrong. Az was very vulnerable right now and it was a miracle that he was showing me this side of him.
That thought hit me like a bucket of cold water and brought my feet back to earth.
"Az," I called after a moment. "We can't..." I gasped as I felt him pull my nipple between his lips. "Listen, I don't think this is a good idea..."
"I need to feel you close. I need to know that you are here with me," he pleaded in a tone of voice I had never heard before, "Making you feel good will make me feel good."
"But I don't want you to think that I'm taking advantage..."
"I need this. I need you" he interrupted me.
That took my breath away and the way he looked like I was his only lifeline made me give in, so I finally nodded.
The shadowsinger rewarded me by leaving a wet kiss on my neck before separating for a moment to unbutton his leathers and reveal all his glory. I didn't hold back and gently touched his skin, trying to convey everything I felt through those caresses, trying to tell him that I was there for him and from the way he tensed where my fingers passed, I assumed he could understand it. I even brushed the edge of one of his wings and he shivered violently, not hiding the low moan that escaped.
His hands moved down to unbutton my shorts without leaving soft kisses combined with licks on my neck. I dug my nails carefully into his back, avoiding the membranes, and he let out a hoarse moan that went deep into my bones. He slowly slid my pants down caressing my legs in the process and then helped me out of them once they hit the carpet beneath my feet.
That's how I was left in nothing but panties in front of Azriel, who was looking at me like I was the only damn person in his life that he had ever wanted. I didn't feel self-conscious under his scrutiny, on the contrary, I had the feeling that he was memorizing me.
“Y/n” he ​​called with rapid breathing “You are beautiful, fucking beautiful.”
His words also had more meaning, I realized. It was the second time he had told me this tonight and somehow, he managed to warm my heart.
The shadowsinger manipulated my body to his liking, so he gave me one last open-mouthed kiss right over my heart before turning me over, leaving me on my back now. I felt him fill my spine with kisses and hook his fingers on my panties, slowly lowering them until he left a kiss on my lower back that made me shudder.
Completely naked, she took me by the waist to place me on his lap. I could feel his hardness beneath me, and he hissed when I ground my hips together.
I was sitting in the middle of his legs, until he hooked one of his hands and put one of my legs over his, so that I was wedged over it, although I still rested my back on his chest.
Then he hugged me, imprisoning me in his arms and hiding his face in my neck. His hands then went down, directly to my center, and he began to touch me with gentle movements, slow caresses on the clitoris that made me gasp. A moan escaped from the back of my throat as I felt his fingers slide into my folds and curve them deliciously.
"That's it honey, let me hear you" he whispered in my ear.
He repeated the movement, and my body went crazy when he added another finger. Everything was slow and felt completely different, it felt more intimate, fuller of feeling. His fingers worked magic inside me while he caressed my clit with his thumb. It was too much, and I figured Az could sense it because he sped up his movements.
Another moan escaped my lips as one movement pushed me over the edge and the orgasm rippled through me making me tremble, sweeping through everything. Azriel did not stop his hands, prolonging the sensation and supporting all my weight, since I had practically collapsed on top of him.
After a few seconds, he did something that left me gasping, partly from the orgasm he just gave me, and partly from the sensual sight. He took his fingers out of me, not caring in the least about the mess, and sucked on them, looking into my eyes before resting his forehead against mine.
"Az" I whispered in between a gasp.
He lunged at my lips and there are no words to describe the way he kissed me. It was messy, a combination of tongue and teeth, but it felt perfect, like once in a lifetime, everything fit together.
I walked away after a moment, to catch my breath, and he grimaced as if it physically hurt him not to be around, to which I responded by standing up and climbing up behind him, only this time who hid his face in his neck. It was me, absolutely enjoying the skin-to-skin contact and the way he held me close to his bare chest and mine.
Az didn't care about the mess I was probably making on his leathers still wearing my fluids. He didn't seem interested in any of that.
"Thank you for staying," he said after a moment, wrapping his wings around us.
"You have nothing to thank me for," I responded, taking his face in my hands. "How are you feeling?"
"Good, now that you're here." He responded and for emphasis, one of his shadows caressed my arm with a cold touch, making me smile.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked as I ran a finger over the membrane of his wing again.
A shudder consumed him along with a gasp and he rested his head on my shoulder.
"Not yet"
I nodded and wrapped my arms around his neck. Trying to give him comfort beyond words and show him that she was here with him. Not anywhere else.
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asraindarkness · 2 days ago
Note
If it’s okay, not necessarily BuckTommy but -
This season feels SO weird. It’s even weirder because for the first time they had a long time to plan it - they knew they were renewed for a Season 8 early into Season 7. So much so that, for the first time, they let the season end with a cliffhanger. Multiple, even.
And they they dropped all of them in a rushed and unsatisfactory way. If they didn’t want S7’s plots to continue on to 8, they could’ve ended them in S7. Never bring Ortiz or Gerard back. But instead, they went with the oddest choice and created a nice cliffhanger, only to disappoint pretty much everyone.
But for me it’s more than that. It’s also the way the characters don’t always feel like them. You’re telling me Buck never went into a deep dive about queer history or rights when he discovered he’s bi?? that Maddie would make the making men gay comment?? that Chimney wouldn’t talk to Hen about the possible second pregnancy?? I could go on and on.
And the dynamics also feel… broken. We barely have friendship moments, at all. Buddie this season feels weird, like Eddie doesn’t really want to be bothered by Buck. Hen and Chim are barely communicating. The firefam doesn’t have moments outside of emergencies (save that montage of them asking Bobby for help).
It feels like the writers have stopped knowing how to write these characters and their dynamics. And for me the found family that I fell in love with at first watch feels gone, you know?
i’ve been saying this since s6!
like aren’t they tried of keep writing buck the same all the time??? he doesn’t get promoted on his job that he’s fucking good at it, they had a kind of story about it when buck wanted to be captain in s6 and then bridge fall happened and buck was a fucking powerhouse in it and i thought they finally gonna show buck more that just a young goofy firefighter that thinks on his feet, show them he’s a leader but then they dropped it.
he doesn’t get into lasting relationship and is always chasing one and apparently now he’s gonna forget his character’s growth and gonna be right back in s1. it’s like buck’s always gonna be the boyish bratt they made in s1 when he was 25/6 not a 33yo man!
eddie can’t fucking move on for 6/7 years and tries constantly to make a mom out of everything woman he dates but now a confession and a random priest apparently healed him like he was possessed not fucking mentally traumatized!
madney are most of the times are dealing with doug that comes out like random jump scares. maddie had 2 stories last season both was about her trauma with him. yes you can’t heal from something like that for a long time or possibly never but for god’s sake that woman raised his brother as his own child when she was still a child herself and what did 911 do with this part of her? NOTHING
and you don’t need me talk about hemren’s endless suffering
and where is athena’s children???
it’s been a mess since s6 but now it’s wors cuz tim starts writing 5 minutes before they start shooting. i said it 100 times the only thing good about s7 was buck’s bi arc. they make a big deal out of problems and solve them in most childish ways in the same episode!
i know it’s basically a soap opera but ffs it’s not a fantasy. they pulled dead wife no.2 cuz it’s a soap but in what word a child can land a plane?
honestly after i reed that tim rewatched the whole thing before writing for bi buck i was sure the show gonna back to its root where chim and hen are besties and hen and athena spend time together etc etc, but apparently all he got from that is abby had a boyfriend named tommy
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prentisslvr · 4 hours ago
Text
NOT STRONG ENOUGH
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summary: you got injured whilst on the job and spencer isn’t to pleased (post!maeve)
pairings: grumpy!spencer reid x sunshine!reader
genre: hurt/comfort?
warnings: mentions of maeve’s death, and canon complicit violence
authors note: i saw someone in the spencer reid tag ask about a fic like this and it gave me inspiration to write my own!!
you hadn’t noticed the tight grip spencer had on the steering wheel when he drove you and him home, nor did you notice his face; if looks could kill, the car that was driving extra slow in front of the two of you would’ve spontaneously combusted.
however you did notice, the slam of his door as he got out the car, his clenched jaw and avoidant gaze as he helped you out, with your broken leg and crutches.
you were used to spencer’s grumpiness, he’d had such a pessimistic view on life, and you didn’t know if it was the optimist in you, or the young naivety, but you had always thought you could fix him.
you had grown to fall in love with spencer in all his grumpiness.
you enjoyed getting to kiss away his angry pout and massage his scalp as he grumbled about how awful his day was.
you enjoyed getting to listen to his rants and just smile and kiss him and take all his problems away, being his source of comfort, like he was yours.
you always loved how even though he was so grumpy, he managed to reserve some sweetness for you, it made you feel so loved, so seen.
spencer on the other hand couldn’t believe he managed to have you as his girlfriend, after maeve, he wasn’t sure he was made for love, it wasn’t meant for him.
but you were meant for him.
he was immediately taken aback by you, the new intern at the bau, so bright and happy, he’d wondered what someone like you was doing at a job like this. someone so young, so happy, so optimistic.
he remembered thinking about how this job would tear you in half, like it did him.
he vowed not to let that happen.
but as he watched, helplessly as you tackled the unsub to the ground, and getting into a literal tussle, he was filled with so much anger, at the unsub, but mainly at himself.
he knew when he was new, he wanted to do his best to stop the bad guys, even if it meant putting himself in danger, he knew the sings of a reckless intern.
why didn’t he stop it.
now you were half black and blue, and walking around the house, well, less walking, more being carried around by spencer, and he really just wanted to scream.
“that was so stupid, you know that.”
you blink, the food on your for you were about to shovel into your mouth forgotten. “i’m sorry?” you say confused, dropping the fork, it clattered loudly against the plate.
“that stunt you pulled.” he gritted his teeth. “i mean, what were you thinking, that you were gonna save the day?” spencer asked, tilting his head in such a way that made you feel taunted.
almost, belittled.
“i was thinking about that girl.” you say, brows furrowing, “and how nobody was doing anything, we were just standing there waiting, negotiating, i saw an opportunity and i took it, the girl is safe now and he’s going to be locked up for the rest of his life.”
“you’re not a hero.” spencer scoffed. “you got lucky, what would you have done if you died out there?”
“nothing, because i’d be dead.” you say, as nice and as kind as you were, you had a quick mouth and it drove spencer insane. “what’s up with you, why are you so upset over this.”
“upset!” he slammed his fist against the table standing up, causing you to flinch, and some cutlery to fall on the floor, your heart thumped in your chest, you weren’t scared of spencer, you had faith he would never hurt you, but he’d never been thing angry with you before.
“i am not upset.” he spits out. “i am enraged at how after all this.. after, me, you could still go out there and risk your life like that! after all i’ve done to protect you!”
“protect me..” you stare at him through a glare standing up yourself. “i chose this job, spence, i chose this profession, i knew what came with it, and i do not need to be protected!”
spencer’s chest heaved as he stared at you, in silence.
“i-” you huff. “i knew the risks that came with the job spencer, and out in that field, i knew what i was risking, but it’s my life spencer. i’m perfectly aware of what i am doing.”
spencer closed his eyes and heaved out a long breath, pinching his nose. “you don’t get to make reckless decisions like that!” he screams clenching his fists. “not when it comes to your life.” he whispered softly, slowly sitting back in seat, as if he’d folded completely.
“i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you..” he says, licking his lips. “when.. when you think about losing someone you love, you can’t imagine it, what it would be like, but i can, because i have, i have lost someone, multiple people.” he says.
“in that moment, when i watched you tackle.. tackle that guy.” he squeezes his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill, as you watch him intensely. “i knew what it would be like spend the rest of my life without you, and i don’t think i’m strong enough to come to terms with that.”
spencer’s admission makes your chest hurt, it never occurred to you what something like taking a risk could do to him. spencer already had lost a lot, and you didn’t want to become a reason he loses another.
you step forward nudging his chin so his eyes were looking up into yours, his cheeks were wet with tears, and for the first time you didn’t see a grumpy man, a pessimistic man, you saw a man who’d had his heart broken far too often.
you gently stroke his cheek. “hey, i’m not going anywhere anytime soon, i’m an intern, today was just an off day.” i raise my brows. “i doubt i will be allowed in the field for a long time.”
he smiled, his eyes still red from tears. “i know you love your job, and i won’t try and stop you from doing it, but please, be careful, if not for you, then for me.”
“i’d do anything for you.” you say, kissing him on the lips. “i’ll be careful for you.”
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ghostgirl-22 · 15 hours ago
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Do you think patrick ever put on a queer/gay movie as a subtle way to get art out of his shell, like "yeah dude ive wanted to watch this movie for ages" and its okay its chill, look how hot they are, look how happy they are
"Is kissing boys different to kissing girls?"
Oh he definitely did… I’m sorry this is so long nonnie!!!
CW: 18+ NSFW | period typical internalized homophobia
—-
Patrick’s lying in Arts bed with his headphones on going through his catalogue of dvds trying to figure out what B movie they can watch and make fun of while they get high. The whole time Art is using his back as a writing surface to finish his math homework.
Patrick pulls his headphones off and drops them on the ground. “It’s Friday. Do you have to do that now?”
“It’s Friday night, we have the tournament Saturday and Sunday so when exactly?” Art says distractedly, erasing.
“On the bus like I do.” Patrick smiles and turns to look at him. Art pushes his shoulder back down. Patrick shrugs and focuses back on his dvds.
“Stay still.” Art demands.
“Forgive me if I’m just trying to get you to have a little fun in our last few months at Mark Reballato Tennis Academy.”
“You know I do actually plan to graduate, right?” Art says dryly.
“So you can go to Stanford?” Patrick says wrinkling his nose in irritation.
Art puts his notebook down on Patrick’s back. “You know Tashi’s gonna be there right?”
Patrick shrugs. “So, just two overtalented people wasting time…”
“Aww so you’re calling me talented?” Art teases.
“You are,” Patrick says. “When you don’t think too much, which Stanford should help you with. I’m sure they don’t over think anything there.”
“Whatever man,” Art sighs. If anything it’ll help my tennis. I think you’re just scared I might steal her away.”
“Not even a little bit, but speaking of her… do you remember how you let me put my tongue in your mouth?” Patrick smirks.
Art goes all quiet like he’s doing homework again but Patrick doesn’t hear the pencil scratching paper.
“You always bring it up like you think I want you or something.”
“You wanted something, I felt it,” Patrick says pushing himself up as Art grabs the notebook off him before it falls.
“Come on man, don’t be gross, that was for her.”
“How is that gross?” Patrick asks, mildly amused, mildly irritated.
“You know what I mean,” Art says. “‘m not gay.”
“You know there’s nothing wrong with it right? Not to mention I’ve seen you before…touched you before… and…I mean remember what we did after she left? Didn’t I make you feel better?”
“We don’t always have to talk about it.”
“We don’t never have to talk about it either.” Patrick counters.
Art takes a deep breath and rests his head against the wall trying to find a way to change the subject. “Dude, if you’re gay just let me have another shot with her.” Is what he comes up with, dumb pretty smirk on his lips.
Patrick rolls his eyes. “Yeah whatever, fine I’m gay…actually that reminds me of this movie you can gayly watch with your gay best friend.”
“I’m just joking. You don’t have to—“
“Well I’m not joking, come on, put this away, loser,” Patrick grabs his notebook and stuffs the papers inside.
“Okay Jesus, Patrick don’t wrinkle it all up.”
“I’m not, chill out. Get the smoke detector.”
Art sighs and climbs off the bed. He steps on Patrick’s bed and reaches up to disconnect the detector from its place on the ceiling. He puts it in the bathroom. Then he shoves a towel beneath the crack in the door.
All the while Patrick’s combing through his dvd case for one random movie he borrowed from Netflix at the start of the year and he’d forgotten to mail it back so they charged him. (That’s sadly how he ended up with a lot of his dvd collection.) He’d watched it once by himself because he thought the main guys were hot and he wanted to jerk off in peace without Art voicing confusion at the idea of him jerking it for a man.
But it had been surprisingly deep for one of those campy queer movies. And of course it was about a guy in love with his roommate which… even for Art’s ability to delude himself wouldn’t be subtle at all.
“What’s this?” Art asks.
“The movie we’re gonna watch. This guy is a male hooker but he ends up getting hired by this old guy who mostly just wants his company.”
Art frowns.
“Come on, relax. You can be straight and watch it. Movies don’t turn people gay and you’re not gay…so what’s the big deal?”
Art looks like he wants to argue but decides it’ll just be easier to surrender. Patrick rolls the joint while Art puts it in the dvd player.
It’s not all his fault. Art was raised with apple pie and Americana. He’s a J Crew catalogue wearing, red blooded New England boy. His family is pretty liberal but in the way that they support all of it as long as it remains out there faceless and unknown… far away from their life and their home. Art’s expected to play a sport, go to an ivy, marry a beautiful girl and likely start a career in politics if tennis doesnt pay off. So this idea that life could ever deviate from that makes him glitch out.
All the tension they have between them is so much easier to just bury. Like none of it matters. It’s not supposed to change the trajectory of his cookie cutter life anyway.
Art sits on his bed next to Patrick they’re both leaning against the wall Patricks feet dangling over the mattress, Art with his legs crossed. Patrick lights up the joint and hands it to him.
—-
They’re pretty baked halfway through and Arts fidgety. It’s at a scene where the main character is touching himself watching his roommate in the shower. “He’s hot right?” Patrick asks.
Art takes a breath. “Dude.”
“Yeah I know…you’re not gay.” Patrick smirks, but even in the dim glow of the tv he can see the way Art’s already starting to show in his boxers.
The third roommate catches the main character watching and wants to suck him off. Then while third roommate is sucking him he starts fantasizing about all three of them hooking up, kissing sloppy on the bed.
“Is this porn?” Art whispers. “Are we really watching gay porn?”
“No I wish… unfortunately they don’t show you that much but imagine if me and you and Tashi were roommates.You watching her shower… while I…”
Art makes a strangled noise and Patrick rubs his own cock, smiling to himself. Art’s just getting there but Patrick’s been hard for the last 30 minutes.
“Patrick,” Art whispers. He’s starting to touch himself over his boxers.
“Give me the joint,” Patrick says, softly. It’s their third one. “If you drop it on the bed again we’ll both be in trouble.”
Art hands it over and Patrick puts it out in the ashtray on the nightstand. He moves closer to Art reaching over to help him. Art leans back, letting Patrick take over. Patrick reaches into his boxers. “Mm Patrick… have you seen her naked?” Art asks.
“No,” Patrick whispers. “Just her underwear. But…I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
“I feel like I can still taste her lips.” He moans while Patrick plays with him. Patrick can’t help but ease his other hand into his own pants. “I wanna…ah… I wanna… see her all soaped up wet and…” Art continues.
“And…?” Patrick breathes.
“Fuck… can you… can we…do what we did after…”
Patrick smiles and nods even though Art likely can’t see him. He gets on his knees and Art scoots towards the edge of the bed. Patrick takes Art’s boxers down and starts sucking him off. touching himself the whole time.
“Mm fuck,” Art breathes.
He barely lasts 2 minutes before he’s filling Patrick’s mouth with so much jizz. Patrick swallows it down, while listening to Art moaning for him. All the hair on his arms standing up. He rests his head against Art’s thigh making quick work of himself, using part of the sheet to keep it from getting all over the floor.
Patrick settles where he is on the floor, breathless when he’s done. Looking up at the television like it was fucking nothing even though his heart is still racing.
Main character has moved so far away from the threesome fantasy. He’s now angsty and worried about his best friend who’s apparently being pursued by someone else. Some other more wholesome gay man. Patrick ponders rewinding but when he looks up at Art, he’s lying back on the bed, hand casually on the waistband of his boxers, tapping his bare feet on the floor just watching.
Patrick rubs Arts leg idly.
“Who’s this loser?” Art asks of the more wholesome gay man.
Patrick laughs. It’s exactly what he thought on his first watch through.
They end up watching the rest of the film. Again, it’s surprisingly more emotional than the premise (male hooker wants to fuck his roommates). Main character ends up learning to be more open about his feelings in his time chatting with the elder gay client. And the emotional part is hearing the elder gay man talk about what he went through to fall in love with his partner when it was much more taboo and unacceptable. And how even though they meet late in life they still lived such a full and happy life (if too short) before his partner passed. And main character’s roommate even gives him a chance and they go out on a date.
Art’s rubbing his eyes when it’s over.
Patrick gets back on the bed next to him. “That was nice right?”
Art’s clearly trying to hide his feelings so he just nods and when he feels okay to use his voice he says. “Seems kinda deep for you.”
“Well I can be deep,” Patrick smirks. He curls his fingers into Art’s hair. “I mean it’s cool right? They were happy.”
”I always wonder where they imagine movies like this to happen? San Francisco probably.” Art laughs, lightly. He looks away from Patrick and Patrick puts his hand back by his side.
“Well I think it could happen anywhere but good thing you're going to California soon.” Patrick says, just as light.
Art looks at him again and then looks at his lap. “I mean it wasn’t just her that made me feel…” he murmurs.
“Me too,” Patrick says.
“So I don’t know…I mean I’m not gay but…but maybe I’m something else…”
“I definitely am.”
Art sighs. “You make me something else.”
“Is that so bad?” Patrick asks.
Art rubs his hands on his thighs and then leans in and gives Patrick a kiss.
(Had to google if Netflix existed in 2006 😭😭 it did but they mailed dvds. Also I made Patrick lie. Movies definitely make you gay. Look what Challengers has done to me!!)
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needforspeed161 · 3 days ago
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You look so pretty (pretty like the sun)
San Diego sunsets never failed to impress, even more so when he was flying. Sure everyone could see the sunset from the ground, it wasn’t any less beautiful. But seeing it at 500 knots, when it’s just you and your Jet, becoming one with the sky.
This sunset however was different, his toes in the sand as the residual warmth from the day, the ocean crashing gently and comfortingly against the shoreline, leaving a trail of fresh sea foam in its wake. The colors swallowed his soul whole, oranges and reds with a hint of yellow. Reflecting off of the shiny seemingly endless sea.
The ocean and the sky had always felt like his home. Until he began to see hints of black and green mixed into the sunset. Never before had he felt so at peace on the ground. Seeing the sunset reflected in a field of soft green. Swallowing the orange in its entirety.
“Ice….Tom-….you okay?”
The blonde snapped out of his trance. “Hm? Sorry I got a bit distracted”
The brunettes toothy smile send warm shivers down his chest and into the warm sand beneath them.
“You’ve been staring….”
“Have I?”
“Yeah, for a while now” Mavericks shy grin went from Ices eyes to his own feet nervously burying themselves in the sand.
Mustering up all of the courage he could, Ice locked his stare onto Mavericks face again.
“The sunset is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“You’ve barely looked at it” the shorter pilot laughed, the comfortable chuckle rattling his chest.
“I’ve been looking at it all evening, and never before has it looked so pretty….”
Mavericks face froze and a blush lit up his cheeks. “W-what do you mean?”
“Your eyes Pete….”
“My eyes?”
“Yes, it looks even more beautiful in your eyes”
The silence felt comfortable, but with a slight fear he’d made the man uncomfortable he planned a back out statement. But before it could even consider leaving his lips Pete spoke.
“Care to dance?”
This time Ice was frozen. “Dance?”
“Yeah, cmon” Maverick held his hand out. To which Ice tentatively grabbed, following Maverick further out onto the beach.
Ahead of him all he could see was Maverick leading him out closer to the ocean. Turing to smile back at him with that same beautiful orange reflecting in the green.
He couldn’t help the dopey grin that was plastered on his face.
The music from the bar alongside the beach could quietly be heard from where they stood. A song Ice had listened to so many times before but now was perfectly describing every moment he and Maverick shared on this beach.
I wanna go party
I wanna have fun
I wanna be happy could you show me how it’s done…
He felt mavericks hand come to rest on top of his epaulette on his shoulder, as he pulled the smaller man in by the waist, fingers brushing carefully over the soft material of their dress whites.
You look so pretty
Pretty like the sun
I could watch forever while you shine on everyone….
He pulled him in even closer. Gently swaying them to the sound of the music playing from the distant bar.
“The sunset really is beautiful” Maverick spoke.
“Yeah….the sunset” ices eyes flickered down to mavericks lips for a split second. As his thumb rubbed soothing motions on the small of his wingman’s back.
Its Black Friday, we’re in a Black Taxi
You take my hand and hold it gently on the middle seat
It’s all in my head, it’s all in my mind
Im so selfish, you’re so kind
“Pete I-…..I-“ Ice couldn’t find the words as they danced gently on the soft sand. The orange shining brightly as ever in Mavericks glossy eyes.
He was home, his home was soft San Diego sunsets in this man’s eyes. The thought scared the life out of him but also brought him back down to earth in the most gentle manner he’d ever felt.
Before he knew it their faces were inches apart. Mavericks hand squeezing and brushing his shoulder gently. “Tom…” he glanced between ices blue stare and his mouth, just as the blonde had done moments before.
It’s all in my head
Baby I can’t breathe
I look in the mirror, what has happened to me?
I wanna better body, I want better skin
I wanna be perfect like all your other friends….
In a last act of courage Tom swallowed, moving a hand up to gently rest against Pete’s cheek, for a moment he closed his eyes, pressing into the touch as his own hand came up to brush across Ices knuckles.
When he opened his eyes he was met with the most beautiful expression he’d ever seen grace over the blondes face. Then he dove in….into the endless ocean that was Tom Kazansky.
Pressing his mouth softly against the taller mans as he propped himself up on his toes.
You look so pretty….
Pretty like the wind….
Everytime you touch me….
I feel adrenaline….
It’s Black Friday, the end of the week.
You take my hand and hold it gently up against your cheek….
Their mouths moved in unison, chests now pressed flush against one another, no words left to speak for the time being. Mavericks arms wrapped around the back of Ices neck. As the blonde dipped him gently, holding his weight as he leaned him back to kiss him.
For once Maverick felt the most at peace he’d ever felt in his own mind. Everything went quiet, it felt like flying, it felt like moving through cotton candy clouds at the speed of sound. The out of control was pulling him in gently and holding him in his arms. Stability, focus, and love. No one had made him feel this comfortable before. This at home…..
He was home, home wasn’t something to search for anymore, or something to run from. Home was strong arms and blonde highlights, an academy ring pressing into his skin and a small beauty mark on the lower right side of a man’s jaw.
It’s all in my head….
It’s all in my mind….
I see the darkness, where you see the light 💙
Pulling back momentarily to rest his forehead against Mavericks, Ice let out a breathy chuckle. Pulling him in for a hug. Continuing to sway them gently.
“You’re absolutely gorgeous Pete…..inside and out”
Maverick wanted to cry. He wanted to sob, he wanted to laugh, he wanted to grab Ices hand and run away into forever together.
“I love you” he instead spoke, placing gentle kisses along Iceman’s shoulder and neck. As the arms around his waist never loosened.
“I love you too”
Looking out onto the shoreline they had come from earlier Maverick seen the wooden walls of the bar being broken up by another man standing with a glass in hand, clad in the same dress whites they wore. Smiling softly at the scene laid out before him.
“Good job kid….”
Maverick smiled at him from the distance, unsure of whether the dark haired mustached man could see his expression. Raising his glass at the two young men on the beach. Viper smiled. Before turning to head back inside.
After watching viper disappear he buried his face in Ices shoulder, breathing out and relaxing even further into the embrace as the sun said its final goodbye for the night behind the horizon, soon to be replaced by a starry sky, and a bright moon to lull them off into the night.
Maverick was home 🌅🌌
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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 hours ago
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Hey! You probably have already been asked this question- and I know you’ll probably never see this- but I’ve been thinking about this and curious about this lately, uh-
What are all the things killer went through during his time under the control of his frisk? Both cannon and head-cannon? I have a few head-cannons myself but am really curious what others think and what the cannon is!
It’s okay if not answered, am just a curious soul wondering about stuff-
Well, first, it wasn’t his Frisk he was under the control of—Frisk is actually hardly mentioned in Something New outside of the first few panels of the first page of the comics, and Killer saying he misses stabbing Frisk’s face when asked if he missed Frisk.
It was Chara, and the Player—basically one and the same in Something New, even if Chara the dead child potentially wants something more. All the Player ever really wants from Killer’s existence is something new, after all. Chara’s the one who wanted a partner in crime.
As for what happened between them, the fun part is—we don’t actually canonically know. We can make guesses based on the beginning, when Killer turned on them, and some things based on after they ended—how Killer still sees them and hears them and listens to them, how he feels watched by them constantly, as if they’re living inside him.
This tells me just how codependent their relationship was—and how scared and powerless Killer feels beneath them, even as he feels he needs them and that he still has to listen to them, even if he doesn’t want to—even as he struggles to realize that he doesn’t want to, because he wants what They want.
Even if he has a new “master” now in the form of Nightmare. It tells me that Chara’s wants and priorities and needs have always taken priority over anything and anyone else—especially Killer himself.
It’s like..how a baby doesn’t realize they are separate from their mother for the first few months of their life. Except Killer never truly realized that he is separate from them. Or that they are separate from him. He has internalized them, and in many ways, has become them. Something he struggles to make sense of.
Killer doesn’t know who he is or what he is, what he wants—if he wants anything at all. He doesn’t know what is or isn’t real—why he feels and behaves about certain things. Why everything both does and doesn’t feel familiar, and yet still he is always just separate.
Chara provided directions. They represent identity and direction and stability, certainty and structure. They scare him and hurt him and confuse him, and he hates them and fears them in equal measure, but no one has understood him like them. Not even himself.
I’m sure he also didn’t use to understand why he was ever scared of or disobedient of Chara before—if something ever triggered him into Stage 1, such as his own hesitance to kill Papyrus. Stage 2 may not have held the same emotional ties to Chara that Stage 1 does or hold the same anger and hate that Stage 3 does or the fear and reverence that Stage 4 does; but it wasn’t like he knew anything else besides them with certainty.
He knew he needed them. He didn’t know fully why, he just did. He could try to explain why but it’d be through the lens of what Chara taught him: control or be controlled, the most Determined decide fate, etc.
He holds on these contradictory views and experiences with Chara, likely dissociated and compartmented into his four Stages, but all just as true as eachother.
They made him. He exists because of the Player, sure, but Chara basically raised him. The Player speaks through them, they act on our behalf. There may even be no difference between Chara and God in his mind in Stage 4.
And try as he might, he can’t pry their pieces out of him.
All of it suggests heavy levels of manipulation, conditioning, gaslighting, dependency, and abuse to me. The specifics aren’t said or shown or even confirmed, but the fact that out of all his shadowy hallucinations of everyone he’s killed—living in his head—Chara’s the only one who’s more than a shadow and has sway over his choices seems to say something about their relationship.
Anyway, a lot of things could’ve likely happened when he was with Chara. Who knows how long they were together—Killer likely doesn’t know. How many timelines they went through together.
I do like to think that there was an entire timeline where Killer and Chara overthrew Asgore and ruled the Underground themselves at some point, because Princess Killer and Killer being conditioned through royal etiquette is an idea I love. I also think he was conditioned through childhood nursery rhymes, games, gestures, and sayings that are loaded with specific meanings that only Chara and Killer themselves know. Their own little language.
I think Chara gave Killer Asriel’s golden locket, to basically make Killer into the better “Asriel.” I do believe he was often threatened and kept in line through the use of the Reset—something Killer, back when he was Sans, hated and dreaded more anything.
(And by that I mean, he was either threatened with a Reset if he didn’t do something, or forced to repeat something over and over through the use of the Reset until he either did it perfectly or without thinking or hesitation. Until any attempts to resist results in an instinctive overriding of his own will via the triggering of Stage 4.)
That original sentiment was likely twisted over time, but still present in some shape or form—such as the need for something new, and to not constantly do the same thing over and over again, even as paradoxically, Killer has a tendency to do the same things over and over again thanks to the role of the Resets in his conditioning.
I’ve made a post before about like, Chara and Killer making the killing into something like hunting games, can’t find it. But I like to think there was a punishment-reward system that Killer internalized as well, especially in Stage 4.
I’ve mentioned before how i hc that Killer and Chara had a pinky swear system that could never be broken under threat of grievous harm to whichever party breaks the promise—and as a result any promises made via pinky swears with Killer from absolutely anyone is basically the same as signing away your right to live if you ever break it.
I’ve mentioned how I think the one death Killer has never experienced before is buttercup poisoning. But basically, anything you think could happen has possibly happened, except ya know..weird stuff.
Reality is a game, and the Underground is their sandbox.
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pepis-benis · 8 hours ago
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it’s wednesday, so wip time
this is the disgustingly romantic swanqueen fic I’ve been working on
—————
“Baby,” Emma cooed in the gooey, silly way that she only used when teasing her. Regina’s heart skipped every time she did it. “You told my mom you loved me, unprompted, and cried?” Regina groaned, burying her head into Emma’s neck. Emma snickered, Regina’s favorite sound reverberating against her ear, striking her to the soul. “That’s so embarrassing.”
It should have scared her, the encompassing love she had for Emma, but Regina had never been less afraid in her entire life. She loved that Emma teased her, pushed her buttons, told her terrible jokes, did silly voices, sang purposefully off-key, and a hundred other little goofy things that Regina had never imagined she would experience, much less enjoy. The amount of vulnerability between herself and Emma still surprised her on occasion. Nothing had to be a secret; Regina could tell her anything. Emma rarely kept a thought to herself, a constant stream of consciousness pouring from the woman. Regina found that it didn’t bother her, enjoying the peek into her girlfriend’s mind. The surprise was that she often found herself telling Emma horrible things, things she had witnessed, things she had suffered, things she had done. In return, Emma would kiss her knuckles and tell her an awful story about her life before Storybrooke or her time as the Dark One. Neither of them held back in any aspect; they didn’t have to. They knew each other.
“We shared True Love’s Kiss in front of half of the town, darling. Your mother is ridiculous, but I think she already knew how I feel about you,” Regina said, pressing her lips softly to a collarbone. Emma’s laugh came out choked, but she quickly recovered.
“Don’t do that.” There was no heat behind her words, so Regina stayed where she was, mouth millimeters from soft skin. She bit her bottom lip, drawing her tongue across it. Her lips were dry; it definitely hadn’t been her intention to graze her wet mouth against Emma’s throat. “Do what?” she murmured. Emma’s arms tightened around her waist.
“You actually are evil,” Emma decided, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’m not getting distracted, though; this is too good. You cried in front of my mom, you cried in front of my mom,” she finished in a grade school sing-song.
Regina scoffed, but the smile pressed to Emma’s neck betrayed her. “I didn’t realize we were eight, or I would have been making fun of all the times you cry.”
“I don’t cry that much.”
“I sent you flowers last week and you cried twice: once at the station and then again when you came home.”
“Well, yeah, ‘cause of what you wrote on the card. Which is where I will point out, you do make fun of me for crying.”
“Mmm…” Regina hummed as if in thought, closing her eyes and nuzzling her nose to Emma’s throat. “That doesn’t sound like me.”
“Yeah huh, it does. You’re so mean to me,” Emma whined. “You said I’m ‘everything, p.s. cue the waterworks’.”
“You’re paraphrasing, but was I wrong?” Regina asked, quirking an eyebrow her love couldn’t see. She knew it was there, sight unseen. “No,” Emma sulked. Regina pressed her parted lips to the blonde’s collarbone, breathing her words across exposed skin. “Then I wasn’t being mean.”
“I only cry a lot because my girlfriend is the most adorable, thoughtful, cute, kind, beautiful, smart, gorgeous, hilarious person in the whole world.”
Regina laughed softly, moving in Emma’s arms to look up into her eyes, sparkling like the ocean in late spring, waves broken by rays of sunshine. “Are we leaving pretty off the list now?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” Emma said, dropping a kiss to Regina’s forehead. She pulled back with a grin. “Sorry, baby. You’re the most adorable, thoughtful, cute, kind, beautiful, smart, gorgeous, hilarious, pretty person in the world.”
“That’s more like it,” Regina purred, tilting her head up in a silent request. Emma rolled her eyes, chuckling lightly as she leaned in to fulfill her queen’s command. Their lips met briefly, Emma’s hand leaving its resting place on Regina’s waist to cup her jaw, fingers brushing hair behind her ear before settling. Regina parted her lips, a pout overtaking her face as Emma pulled away with a laugh. “You’re such a bitch,” she said, dipping to kiss the tip of Regina’s nose. “And so adorable when you pout.”
“Evil queens are not adorable nor do they pout.”
“Good thing you’re not evil.”
“I thought I was?”
“You’re only evil when you put your mouth on me at family functions.”
“So, frequently? I wonder why a hero hasn’t come along and put an end to my villainy?”
“Maybe the hero is more interested in what happens if she lets the villainy go on a little longer,” Emma said suggestively, waggling her eyebrows until Regina burst into laughter, a deep laugh that crinkled her eyes and made her feel so alive, like she did anytime Emma was around. Emma joined her, pressing a chaste kiss against her smiling mouth as the giggling receded. They lapsed into silence, Emma’s arms back around Regina, wrapping her in the familiar warmth the two of them created together.
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locomoqo · 1 day ago
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Could we get something related to gun trying to convince the reader who he loves to stay with him. Reader is conflicted with her feelings because she loves him but she’s aware of his job and how dangerous it is for the both of them. Angst & comfort please!
love me like a sailor
— gun park x reader
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details: angst with comfort, established relationship
A/N: 1.2k words whewww, also i hope i did gun's personality justice here🥹 i rlly do believe he'd soften around someone he loves (i have a feeling this didnt come off as angsty as i wanted it to be bleh)
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The room is dimly lit, shadows stretching long across the floor as the evening light fades behind heavy curtains. Gun stands in front of you, his usually impassive face softened by an emotion he rarely shows—vulnerability. The tension between you both is almost suffocating, a thick silence hanging between breaths. Your heart is heavy with the weight of a decision you don’t want to make.
“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you murmur, your voice barely a whisper. You clutch your arms, holding yourself together because you’re afraid that if you let go, you’ll fall apart. You look up at him, eyes filled with the conflict that’s been tearing at you for weeks. He’s been distant lately, lost in the chaos of his work, and you can’t pretend any longer that it doesn’t scare you.
Gun’s jaw tightens, his usually stoic expression cracking for a brief second. There's a flicker of something fragile in his eyes. He steps forward, a little too quickly, as if he's scared you might vanish. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” he says, his voice quiet and distant—just like it always is.
You meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with unshed tears, hating that he makes it sound so simple. “But for how long?” you ask, your voice breaking. “You’re always chasing danger, always fighting, always risking everything. I can’t... I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t tear me apart every time you walk out that door.” The words spill out of you, each one a stab to your own heart. You hate how weak you sound, how vulnerable. But you can’t help it. You can’t stop loving him.
Gun’s brows furrow, his usual mask slipping as he takes a step closer. He towers over you, but there’s a gentleness in his eyes that contradicts his imposing presence. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches for you but stops, hovering with uncertainty as if he’s not sure he has the right to touch you anymore. “I don’t know how to be different,” he admits, his voice raw and low, twisting your heart. It's true, fighting has become part of who he is, it's all he's ever known. “This is who I am. But if it means losing you, I’ll—”
“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head, feeling tears sting at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose your edge. I don’t want to be your weakness.”
You see frustration flare in his eyes, the helplessness he fights so hard to conceal. His hands drop to his sides, curling into fists as he takes a shaky breath. “Do you think I want to be this way?” he asks, his voice suddenly fierce, desperation cutting through his words. “Do you think I don’t know what it does to you every time I leave? I’m trying, damn it, but I can’t just walk away from who I am. I’ve built my life around this, and I can’t change it, not overnight.”
He stretches his hand out, catching yours before you can pull away. There's an urgency in his grip—an unspoken plea hidden beneath his cold facade. The anger fades from his face, replaced by something hollow and broken. “You’re not my weakness,” he insists, his hold firm but gentle. “You never have been. You’re the only person who makes me want to be better. For you.” He swallows, eyes locked on yours. “I know it’s dangerous. I won’t lie to you about that. But I can protect you. I will protect you.”
Your heart aches at the sincerity in his voice, but you know it’s not enough. You pull your hand back, wiping away a tear before it can fall. “What if something happens to you?” you ask, your voice cracking. “What if I lose you?”
Gun’s expression tightens, and he reaches for you again, his hands settling on your shoulders with surprising gentleness. “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he says firmly, his voice steady, as if daring fate to contradict him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He almost adds, “Not if it means leaving you,” but the words die in his throat.
“...I don’t want to leave,” you say, your voice hoarse, and it’s the truth. You don’t want to lose him. You don’t want to be without the man who’s somehow become the most important part of your life, the one who knows you better than anyone else. “But I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself either.” Your voice wavers, and you turn away as a sob escapes before you can choke it down.
Gun’s fingers gently tilt your chin back, his touch tender in a way that takes you by surprise. “Look at me,” he commands, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard. You meet his gaze, and for the first time, you see the raw fear in his eyes—the fear of losing you. “I’m not asking you to ignore the danger. I’m asking you to stay with me.”
Your chest tightens, and you shake your head as tears finally spill over. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this,” you admit, your voice barely audible.
Gun’s hands come up to cup your face, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His touch is achingly gentle, his thumb brushing away the tears that fall down your cheeks. “Then don’t watch,” he says, his voice teetering on desperation. “Let me be the one who takes the risks. I’ll handle it. I’ll handle everything if it means I can keep you by my side.” His voice is so soft, so uncharacteristically vulnerable.
“Isn’t that enough?” His eyes, usually so cold and distant, search yours, desperate for any sign that you might stay.
For a moment, all you can hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat, each thud echoing in your ears. The tears come faster now, and you let yourself lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palms against your skin. There’s a sadness in his gaze that cuts you to the core, but there’s also hope—a fragile, flickering flame that refuses to die.
Your hands tremble as you cling to the fabric of his shirt, your fingers curling into the material. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking, “but I’m scared, Gun. I’m so scared.”
His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. His hold is firm and unwavering, like he’s trying to shield you from the world itself. “Then be scared,” he whispers into your hair, his breath warm against your temple, “but don’t go.”
It's the first time you’ve ever heard him beg, and it shatters something inside you. You stay there, wrapped in the security of his embrace. He’s far from perfect, and so are you, but in this moment, you find a sort of peace—a hope that, maybe, love is enough.
Gun pulls back slightly, his hands still cradling your face as he stares at you with an intensity that steals your breath. “Stay,” he whispers, his voice rough and desperate. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to us.”
You don’t know what the future holds, or if his promise is one he can keep, but in this moment, as his thumb gently brushes your cheek, you find yourself nodding, your resolve crumbling in the face of the man you love. Gun exhales shakily, a soft, relieved sound, and pulls you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. For the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe—just maybe—everything will be okay.
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intrn37 · 8 days ago
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I can’t believe it
I wanted to move to and even LIVE in America the minute I turned of legal age to do so. THAT was my escape, my dream, my liberation. And that was just in a few years. But now as a queer, gender non conforming child I don’t even feel anything for that dream anymore. It’s dead and it’s never ever coming back.
So fuck all of you who think that stomping on the dreams of the future generations of children is going to revive your dying, withered old husk of an ideal country. You just nailed the final nail to the coffin of the democracy you so dream of.
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angelmush · 1 month ago
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tis the season !
#the charcuterie board was devoured and ppl rly loved the cookies and the dates r usually popular#and the baked brie too!!!#and then ppl brought their own assortment of treats and drinks as well#i rly enjoyed my blackberry orange drink personally#my gf’s friend does really beautiful pottery and all the food she brought was in her gorgeous homemade pieces#was so fun i love feeding ppl and making things look pretty and festive#my gf did the insane lettering on the drink menu#and decorated so cutely#and then we all went to the halloween event at the amusement park afterwards and it was fun and cold and misty#and i mostly sat outside of haunted houses while they walked thru them haha#i struggle rly rly bad to recover from being startled and sometimes it just. turns into a panic attack even if im not like Scared?? idk#it’s stupid my body just can’t distinguish real danger from fun danger very well#but they had these “’no boo”’ necklaces i could wear so actors would then just interact w me nicely and creepily instead of jumping at me#which was still fun :-)#bummer tho i hate being mentally illlllllll#and rly embarassing bc the necklaces lit up rly bright so it was like i was wearing an im-a-weenie beacon#lolll#also shoutout to my mutual who recognized me while i was waiting for my friends and stopped to say hi LMAO that was crazy#won’t name names so i don’t dox u#but i’ve never been recognized from tumblr before was a very i like your shoelaces moment😭😭😭#top 10 most embarassing things to happen to me ever but thanks for saying hi !!!#personal
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