#Or don't and just make him a silly old man I can point at and laugh

[dogsplayingpoker]

Ok weird it wasn't letting me reblog this properly. Anways hiiiii

I did read it (over a year ago when i reblogged this) and that isn't what I said, or my criticism of his point and, overall, the neo-liberal ancient-contemporary comparative perspective that Devereaux is routinely writing these articles in. It would be silly to be fully Pro-Rome, sure, but I'm not really accusing him of that persay. I do still think his general perspective is a silly and factually inaccurate one and disagree with it, so I therefor disagree with the arguments he makes starting from this perspective. In particular, I think that no matter how much he claims to actively be against it, Devereaux and the many historians that follow his same playbook end up: 1. romanticizing (I previously said "admiring," which may have been where we got mixed up) Rome by claiming it was a ghastly horrific slave state (true) while also being unable to help from looking to "the good parts" with a kind of breathless nostalgia, and here, overtly for guidance. This is of course a pretty common issue for classicists, unfortunately, including professors of mine that I've generally really respected. Usually the "good parts" = freedom of religion in occupied territories, civil rights afforded to slaves (+the way that pre-Race slavery functioned differently in general), and exactly what Devereaux says in the title of the article, i.e. their "Notion of authority" being likened, often, to a gentle but firm father figure who knows whats best for his children. It is absolutely hilarious to me how often historians, even ones that claim to have left-wing values, can believe in the noble pater familias rule of the romans with a smile and a tear in their eye. Does anyone else here remember 'the white man's burden'? Did anyone see that weird tucker carlson speech where he talks about daddy coming to spank the disobedient little girl that (assumably?) was supposed to be the Biden government? Anyways. Writers try to isolate only that there was religious self determination (in occupied territories of an expansionist empire), that they Ruled the horrible violent imperial war machine Fairly, and then don't even hide the fumble when they get to the slavery part, proudly saying YEAH, they were ENSLAVED, sure, and that's BAD, BUT........ This all ties into issue two, or the underlying issue:

2. Devereaux is a liberal American historian that is either unable to appreciate the full context of the country he lives in OR is actively obfuscating it AND/OR accepts it and thinks its just peachy outside of a few stubborn issues like police brutality and the like which he thinks can be handled in a vacuum by throwing enough good old fashioned liberal values at them. He fails to view issues from a systemic lens and therefor thinks anything he doesn't like is a weird flaw coming from some outside source. In that article (and I can't find this specific article again on Foreign Policy to pull examples from, I'm sorry) he was trying to 'learn from rome' for the sake of America. Even if he's saying Rome was a heavily flawed society, he is saying our empire can still learn a good thing from their empire. I disagree with that. I disagree with the empires staying empires in the first place, or that empires are things worth saving, or that they're even possible to save. My argument is also that we should actually definitely not look to Ancient Rome for advice on law enforcement, or indeed any of our policies point blank period. I personally think this kind of Rome-USA compare and contrast exercise is always fnny because the writer also never seems to reckon with how much we already, fundamentally, ARE Rome-- in all the worst ways, and in the ways he's claiming we can 'learn' from them. We already have. We've been romanticizing and following in their footsteps very intentionally the whole time, just as others were inspired to follow in ours in a horrific timeline of gore and human atrocities. Devereaux, per his website, is really into classical liberalism, liberal democracies, private property, free-market capitalism, and John Locke. (https://acoup.blog/2024/07/05/collections-the-philosophy-of-liberty-on-liberalism/). We simply have really different perspectives on politics that also inform how we view and would choose to write about things as historians.

I think this quote from that blog post on liberalism is especially funny in context: "And of course Cicero himself never fully absorbs the implications of his philosophy: a wealthy Roman slave-holder, it never occurs to Cicero that perhaps he daily violates the natural law by keeping people in bondage." Devereaux himself never fully absorbs the implications of his philosophy: a white well-to-do professor in an elite seat within American Academia, it never occurs to Devereaux that perhaps he daily violates the individual freedoms of liberalism by rationalizing and hiding away the dark parts of a fundamentally unjust empire relying on the slave labor of prisoners, the indentured servitude of sweatshop workers worldwide, the slaughter and subjugation of millions of in the global south and the underclasses within the empire itself, and the theft and hoarding of the world's resources. But okay. Cicero bad, John Locke good. Got it. My argument would of course be that they are both bad, both equally ignoring the reality of the society they lived in and their places within it. Devereaux is starting his argument from an already catastrophically flawed point of view that forces him to look past things like 'context' whenever it becomes inconvenient. He has to say in the post multiple times that like yeah, sure, Locke's view of who counted as a "person" worthy of having things like "rights" was, um...narrower than ours today, but he was still correct because I like him (and it's totally different from how other people cited, like Cicero, were incorrect hypocrites). Ignore the slavery and colonialism, same old same old, it is still correct and not at all laughable to claim that the United States was a nation formed on a defining principle of inalienable freedoms for every single person. He mentions that those things were obviously bad but doesn't see them as truly conflicting, more as growing pains. He even says the founding father's misogyny and racism (towards the enslaved specifically: indigenous people, and therefore the ACTUAL founding principles of the US colonial empire, go completely unmentioned) "[...] represented betrayals of the principles that otherwise document: the crime was common, the hypocrisy was special." American exceptionalism who? Obviously if he was saying we should instate a more 1:1 ancient roman government that would also be ridiculous. But my point is that he's asking the wrong questions about the society we have and what's wrong with it in the first place. He is often wrong about Rome and near-universally wrong about America.

Despite Sparta’s reputation for superior fighting, Spartan armies were as likely to lose battles as to win them, especially against peer opponents such as other Greek city-states. Sparta defeated Athens in the Peloponnesian War—but only by accepting Persian money to do it, reopening the door to Persian influence in the Aegean, which Greek victories at Plataea and Salamis nearly a century early had closed. Famous Spartan victories at Plataea and Mantinea were matched by consequential defeats at Pylos, Arginusae, and ultimately Leuctra. That last defeat at Leuctra, delivered by Thebes a mere 33 years after Sparta’s triumph over Athens, broke the back of Spartan power permanently, reducing Sparta to the status of a second-class power from which it never recovered. Sparta was one of the largest Greek city-states in the classical period, yet it struggled to achieve meaningful political objectives; the result of Spartan arms abroad was mostly failure. Sparta was particularly poor at logistics; while Athens could maintain armies across the Eastern Mediterranean, Sparta repeatedly struggled to keep an army in the field even within Greece. Indeed, Sparta spent the entirety of the initial phase of the Peloponnesian War, the Archidamian War (431-421 B.C.), failing to solve the basic logistical problem of operating long term in Attica, less than 150 miles overland from Sparta and just a few days on foot from the nearest friendly major port and market, Corinth. The Spartans were at best tactically and strategically uncreative. Tactically, Sparta employed the phalanx, a close-order shield and spear formation. But while elements of the hoplite phalanx are often presented in popular culture as uniquely Spartan, the formation and its equipment were common among the Greeks from at least the early fifth century, if not earlier. And beyond the phalanx, the Spartans were not innovators, slow to experiment with new tactics, combined arms, and naval operations. Instead, Spartan leaders consistently tried to solve their military problems with pitched hoplite battles. Spartan efforts to compel friendship by hoplite battle were particularly unsuccessful, as with the failed Spartan efforts to compel Corinth to rejoin the Spartan-led Peloponnesian League by force during the Corinthian War. Sparta’s military mediocrity seems inexplicable given the city-state’s popular reputation as a highly militarized society, but modern scholarship has shown that this, too, is mostly a mirage. The agoge, Sparta’s rearing system for citizen boys, frequently represented in popular culture as akin to an intense military bootcamp, in fact included no arms training or military drills and was primarily designed to instill obedience and conformity rather than skill at arms or tactics. In order to instill that obedience, the older boys were encouraged to police the younger boys with violence, with the result that even in adulthood Spartan citizens were liable to settle disputes with their fists, a tendency that predictably made them poor diplomats. But while Sparta’s military performance was merely mediocre, no better or worse than its Greek neighbors, Spartan politics makes it an exceptionally bad example for citizens or soldiers in a modern free society. Modern scholars continue to debate the degree to which ancient Sparta exercised a unique tyranny of the state over the lives of individual Spartan citizens. However, the Spartan citizenry represented only a tiny minority of people in Sparta, likely never more than 15 percent, including women of citizen status (who could not vote or hold office). Instead, the vast majority of people in Sparta, between 65 and 85 percent, were enslaved helots. (The remainder of the population was confined to Sparta’s bewildering array of noncitizen underclasses.) The figure is staggering, far higher than any other ancient Mediterranean state or, for instance, the antebellum American South, rightly termed a slave society with a third of its people enslaved.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you think Gabriel's writing flaws were meant to be intentional character flaws?

It really depends on which flaw you're referring to. Some seem accidental, some seem intentional, and some are the result of the show's formulaic nature (and arguably the writers' skills) holding him back.

Let's start with an example of that last point: Gabriel squanders opportunities left and right while creating the most asinine plans you can think of and only wins in the season four and five finals because of sheer dumb luck. In spite of this, I think that he is genuinely supposed to be seen as clever and creative. That's why you get Nathalie spouting lines like this one from Catalyst:

Nathalie: As predicted, [Lila's] anger will reach devastating heights. Your plan is perfect, sir.

And this one from Risk:

Gabriel: Ladybug never makes a mistake! Nathalie: Neither do you.

And a whole host of other moments from seasons three and four where Nathalie just straight up fawns over Gabriel's brilliance. Even in season five, she still seems to think that he's a genius, she just wants him to give up on winning to spend his final days with Adrien.

You don't write that kind of dialogue unless Gabriel is supposed to be smart or Nathalie is supposed to be a bit of a fool (or, at the very least, someone blinded by love). I think it's pretty clear that Nathalie is not supposed to come across as lacking in the intelligence department and her admiration continues after her "redemption", so the most logical conclusion here is that Gabriel is supposed to be a smart villain. We're supposed to think that he makes really cool and intelligent plans.

The problem is that, if Gabriel was smart, then he'd have won ages ago. The butterfly is simply too powerful for him to lose. If you want to play him as a genuine threat, but also keep his losses believable, then - at the very least - you have to majorly nerf the butterfly. You also need to let him actually plan and scheme, setting up future akuma victims over multiple episodes before they come to fruition. Due to the show's format, we rarely get this. I think that Scarlet Moth and Miracle Queen are the only real exceptions. While they're the rare exceptions, I will note that their existence also backs this "Gabriel is supposed to be smart" read, the formula just doesn't allow him to come across that way.

This issue is why formula shows favor serious one-off villains that get defeated by the episode's end or non-threatening over-the-top comedic villains that return time and time again. For an example of the first, think the antagonists in crime serials like NICS or Sherlock Holmes stories and for the later think of pretty much every villain in Kim Possible or Dr. Doofenshmirtz from Phineas and Ferb.

The reason why formula shows take these paths is that it's genuinely difficult to have a villain that shows up every week and never wins, but who also feels like a true threat. At some point, the villain starts feeling incompetent because they're the ones making the plans. The puzzle masters. That puts them at a strong advantage. For a smart Gabriel to work, the show would need to be way less formulaic and/or his story would need to be much shorter. The butterfly nerf is also a must in my book.

In my intro, I also mentioned unintentional flaws. When I said that, I was primarily referring to the child abuse and Gabriel's general attitude toward his son. The writers seem to be genuinely oblivious to how badly Gabriel came across as the show went on. In the first season or two, I could have given the writers some grace on this topic as Gabriel's behavior could be argued as the cartoonish exaggeration of an overprotective-but-not-abusive parent just like Marinette's parents get to be cartoonishly loving at times and Marinette's crush is cartoonishly over-the-top.

We also had moments like the end of Gorizilla and Style Queen which gave Gabriel a chance to show off his love for Adrien and give it some real narrative weight. After Chat Blanc, that grace was gone and the show would continue to paint Gabriel as worse and worse right up until the season five final where all that terrible behavior culminated in Gabriel... getting a happy ending?

While it's always possible that later seasons will actually address Gabriel's abuse, it's pretty hard to come back from an ending that let him ascend into the light with his wife while smiling and perfectly at peace. That's not the ending that you give to a black-hearted villain who views his son as nothing more than a tool. The only logical read here is that Gabriel was supposed to be sympathetic and he was supposed to love Adrien, just not enough to pick Adrien over Emilie. Why heal yourself and be with your son when you can just die so that you don't have to live without your wife? What a positive and uplifting message for children!

To finish this up, let's quickly touch on the intentional flaws. There are mostly the things that even a five-year-old could pick up on because that is the show's target audience. Gabriel's arrogance, his unwillingness to give up, and his inability to see other points of view are very clearly meant to be his true flaws. He's also apparently supposed to be a creative contrast to Marinette with him being cold mass-production and her being individualism, but the writers kind of forgot to put that into the show. I think Marinette gets five designs and Gabriel gets two, making it somewhat difficult to see one as a font of individuality and one as an evil, mass-market fast-fashion producer. I'm not even sure what kind of fashion Gabriel creates!

In conclusion, Gabriel is as much of an inconsistent mess as Marinette is, which is unsurprising since they're arguably the two main characters. The ones with key roles in basically every episode. That meant that they had to warp and twist Gabriel to make the akuma of the day work even if that akuma made Gabriel look like a monster by doing things like attacking Adrien. It's just a variant of the way they had to warp Marinette into being wrong even if she really wasn't or if it went against her established character. This makes it hard to pick up on the "true" Gabriel, but I've always been of the opinion that he's supposed to read as a smart, sympathetic villain who loves his family, but is driven to evil by grief and an unwillingness to move on. The ending just sealed that read for me even though I 100% agree that this is not the character that they actually wrote. It's just who they clearly wanted to write.

[satoruxx]

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | 1.6k words summary: boyfriend!toji headcanons, fluff, soft!toji, grumpy x sunshine, he’s a simp but he’ll never admit it !! rheya's note: grumpy man being soft for the person he really loves? i’m here for it. mamaguro is literal proof that he can and will love !!

bf!toji who is silent with his care for you. he's not one to be open or dramatic about his feelings, but you bet he'll show them in actions. small, mundane things that could only be picked out under critical eyes—like quietly placing an extra mug of coffee next to you as you work, or being the one to walk closest to the street, fingers firmly clasped around your palm. if you point it out he'll just grunt, shaking his head with a quiet "keep walking" all while pretending to ignore your silly little grin.

bf!toji who isn't really the type to be big on words of affirmation, but huge on physical touch. you tell him you did well on a project at school or work and he just hums, giving you a little nod. he doesn't say anything else—doesn't really have to because the soft lingering pat on your head is enough to tell you that he's proud.

bf!toji who is an aggressive yet affectionate lover. if you're doing something and he's not receiving your attention he will come up behind you and put you in a headlock. he thinks it's an appropriate response considering how much he craves your attention and company—why on earth are you focused on something that isn't him anyway? so be prepared to have his heavy bicep playfully curling around your throat or slinging you over his shoulders at random times—it's his way of telling you he misses you. and if anything, he'll do it to hear you whine and attempt to shove him off.

bf!toji who will absolutely take your phone and change your lockscreen to pictures of him. every so often, you'll turn your phone on and see an entirely different picture—sometimes a picture of him at the gym, other times a picture of him blocking out his face—but it's always him.

bf!toji whose own lockscreen is always something that's related to you. he's sneaky with it, always stealing pictures of you when you're not looking. he's got a separate album with them—probably hidden behind a password because it's something only he should be allowed to see. but whether it's a snapshot of his hand intertwined with yours or a blurry image of you fast asleep in his bed, it's always you. because of course you’re the first thing he should be able to see when he turns his phone on.

bf!toji who, as cliché as it sounds, is exactly the type to go feral if someone's made you upset. and he's freakishly observant, noticing even a slight pinch of your nose or wobble in your lips—he's caught them all. whether you're just down or outright sobbing, he's there, standing in front of you with pure anger weighing heavy on his brows. and yet for all his rage he's nothing but gentle as he firmly takes your face in his calloused hands, muttering a strained "what the fuck happened?" as he forces you to make eye contact with him. his own eyes will dart over your features, searching for discomfort or any other emotion as you explain, barely holding back his own emotions because there's no reason on the fucking planet that you should be upset at all.

bf!toji who rarely says the words "i love you" not because he doesn't but because the words themselves don't hold all that much meaning to him. no he'd rather spend his time proving it to you than just saying it for the sake of saying it. but, sometimes if you pretend to be asleep long enough, you'll catch him quietly whisper the words into your hair, almost like he doesn't want anyone to hear it. don't even bother trying to call him out for it—he'll deny deny deny.

bf!toji whose eyes flutter when he lets you trace over his scars. not just the one cutting over his lips but the ones that litter his back and torso—battle remnants that he doesn't remember much of. he's always hated the look of them, indifferent to old memories of a much more chaotic time in his life. but when your gentle fingers graze over the raised skin he'll sigh, oddly quiet but yet so comfortable.

bf!toji who will drop everything if you need him. don't ever hesitate to ask him for things because you're scared of being a burden—he will yell at you (affectionately). you drank too much with your friends and can't get a ride? call him and he'll pick you up even if it's 4 am. you're feeling nervous about walking home from the convenience store even though it's only ten minutes away from home? stay put and he'll come get you so that you can walk back together. shut up about all that "it's an inconvenience for you" bullshit—he'll do it and that's that.

bf!toji who asks if you've eaten today, and when you answer with a sheepish smile he'll click his tongue, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and giving you a pointed glare. then he'll say "get your ass to the kitchen. c'mon, up." while hoisting you to your feet—most of the time he'll just pick you up and plop you on the counter himself.

bf!toji who wordlessly makes you something to eat, whether it's a quick snack put together with leftovers or an actual full meal. then he'll stand in front of you with the plate and demand you eat. even a slight word of protest and he's scowling, already holding up a spoonful while grumbling a low "don't wanna hear it. open up, kid."

bf!toji who hates when you fall asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home. his job doesn't allow for the comfort of a strict schedule, and he's told you this many times. but you're nothing if not stubborn, and he can only sigh heavily as he sees you dozing against the armrest when he pushes the door open late at night. he'll click his tongue quietly, hooking both arms under your back and knees to cradle you against his chest before walking to the bedroom. though some part of him is pleased, knowing that you seem to care about him enough to make sure he's coming home every night.

bf!toji who glares at anyone who even breathes in your direction the wrong way. some guy eyeing you while you're walking on the street? toji looks like he's ready to rip his head off. some "friend" of yours asking too many questions about why you're dating a man like him? well…if looks could kill.

bf!toji who pulls you into his lap when he kisses you, because he likes the way you fit into his space so perfectly. he won't ever admit how it makes him swoon when you giggle against his lips, instead choosing to tighten his grip on your hips and pull you closer to his chest.

bf!toji who enjoys watching you sit on the kitchen counter and swing your legs back and forth—finding it so unbelievably endearing that he ends up just standing in between your legs and burying his face into your neck. his lips will map chaste kisses across your skin, and he'll hide a wry smile as your quiet giggles wash over him.

bf!toji who will notice when you eye something at a store, whether it's a pretty piece of jewelry or a new sweater or whatever—he keeps note. and then weeks later, once you've forgotten all about it, he'll come home and drop a bag into your lap before shoving his hands into his pockets. when you open it and start gushing about how much you wanted it and how pleased you are, he'll huff and turn away, muttering a low "whatever, kid. 's not a big deal."

bf!toji who sees you upset about something, and loops his bicep around your neck and tucks you under his chin. to an outsider it doesn't look like the most comforting form of a hug, but it's toji, and he's secure and he's safe and he's all the comfort you need—a tight squeeze that grounds you in a way that you can't quite describe.

bf!toji who will never admit how interested he is in your gossip. his ideal way to destress after he comes home is to sit on the couch with you in his lap, your arms looped around his waist as you press yourself against his torso and tuck your head under his chin. and even though his eyes are trained on the tv, he has no clue what's going on—he's more focused on the drama you're spilling or whoever you're ranting about. and he makes it known too, occasionally asking "then what happened, baby?" and adding in a few sounds of disbelief. by the end of your rant, he'll be saying something along the lines of "what a fucking bitch," or "honestly he deserved that," and then asks for updates on the situation over the next few days.

bf!toji who silently watches you trace your fingers over the lines on his palms. you're blabbering about something, tucked against his chest as his other arm remains wrapped around you securely, but he's just focused on your hands. it scares him a little bit—the difference between you and him. his palms are calloused, rough with battle and death, while yours are soft, clean of the horrors he's determined to keep away from you. and a small part of him tells him he shouldn't taint you with all his faults, that you deserve someone more capable of loving than he is. but then he feels you brush your lips over his scarred fingers and he sucks in a breath, tightening his grip imperceptibly. even as he hides a half smile against your brow, he knows he isn't going anywhere.

[thinkinonsense]

old!logan and his obsession with the cute diner girl *mdni

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing something smutty so if it sucks im sorry lmao also if any writers have any tips please share! :)

logan has been around for long enough to know when a woman is attracted to him. there was a certain essence given off that was always a dead giveaway. usually it came from women close to the age he looked like and it tended to be brief moments of lust before all hope was lost. this was until he met you.

the pretty young girl working at the diner during her time off from college. everyday, he came in and ordered a black coffee. the coffee wasn't even that good but logan would spend two dollars every single day of his life if it came with the view of you bending over in that tiny uniform skirt.

logan would watch you for hours while he drank and skimmed the news paper alone in a booth. your hair was always up in either a ponytail or held together with a hair clip. he loved seeing your pretty handwriting as you scribbled on your notepad, taking orders. it was part of your job to be nice to everyone but you were especially nice to him. even your friends began to notice how you would linger by his table, constantly topping off his coffee mug and making small talk; sometimes giving him a slice of cherry pie on the house.

"don't you think he's kinda old for you?" one of your friends whispers to you behind the counter.

it's stung but you suppose she had a point. what would a man old enough to be your father want with a young wild girl like yourself?

"i-i guess so?" you stuttered, embarrassed at your previous attempt at flirting with him.

the rest of the night, you hoped he would leave before close so you could have some time alone with your feelings. summer was almost over and you would go back to the city soon. it was time to forget these silly fantasizes.

by ten, all the other waitresses went home except you, the older woman in the back who counted the drawer every night, and a few of the cooks. the only customer still there was logan. he flipped through one of the books he brought with him; still sipping away at that damn coffee.

"isn't it getting a little late for you, sweetheart?" he asked nonchalantly, not even looking up at you as you bent over to scrub the table next to his. the fifth table you've cleaned in the last hour and the second time you've cleaned that specific table. logan noticed but you didn't.

"need the hours." you mumble, frustrated by a stubborn stain. all logan could focus on was your scrunched nose and how your tight top pushed your boobs together just right for his viewing. "college is fucking expensive plus grants and scholarships only cover so much."

"hmm.." logan grunts. grants? scholarship? what a goody fucking two shoes, logan thought to himself. "if you bring me piece of pie, i think i can help you out."

you lean off the table and go get what's left in the glass container. it's probably a little hard so you definitely didn't plan on charging him for it. you sit the plate down in front of him and before you could turn around to walk away, logan reaches for your wrist softly.

"join me." he offers.

you knew you shouldn't but what was really the harm? at least your friends weren't here to make fun of you. the radio played quietly on an older station while you watched logan take a bite of the pie.

"why did your friends leave you here alone?" he asked, watching your face turn sour at the memory of them.

"don't wanna talk about it." your voice was small in the empty diner.

"why? think an old man like me can't relate to it?" logan chuckles. your thighs squeeze together without thinking. so much for not embarrassing yourself.

"no, no, not that." you shake your head and a strand of hair falls from your bun. "just sort of juvenile, you know?"

logan could tell that you were trying to come off more mature around him. you didn't want him to see you as some college kid.

"juvenile, how?" he eggs on, pushing down his glasses a bit.

god, those glasses got to you; and logan knew it.

"they don't understand how i feel about someone." you sigh.

"how do you feel about this person?" logan noticed you now avoiding his gaze, not liking it one bit. "eyes on me, princess."

the nickname caught you off guard like a dear in headlight; blinking and trembling up at logan. something logan enjoyed very much and could get used to.

"it's not important, just some stupid crush." you lie through your teeth. "they will forget about me in a month."

"why don't you think it'll work?" he cocks his head to the side a bit. "you're a pretty young thing, dollface. anyone of those college boys would be lucky to be wrapped around your little finger."

"i don't want college boys." you mumble, slightly annoyed by the memory of your friends.

logan felt himself getting hard at you admitting you had a taste for someone older. his eyes grew dark as he leaned in a little over the table.

"then what do you want?"

your moment to answer was interrupted by the older woman from the back, releasing you to go home for the evening. this was your chance to get up and leave before you admitted anything else that you would regret.

both of you stood up. logan threw down some cash while you went to collect your stuff behind the counter.

"i'll see you tomorrow, lo-"

"you didn't answer the question."

"i must go now if i want to catch the last train."

logan worried about you taking the train back to your apartment alone this late at night. usually you drive back but your car has been in the shop for almost three days now. he would watch you get to your car every night to make sure you were safe.

"i can drive you home." logan offers.

you shouldn't be this excited to be sitting in a strangers truck alone at night but here you were. the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes before logan brought up the conversation from the diner again. what did you even want?

"i want someone who understands me..." you begin rattling off the first things that come to mind when you notice logan's hand on your knee. you don't dare move.

"someone who is responsible..." with every word, his hand creeps higher and higher up your skirt. logan is more than pleased when he notices your legs spread on their own.

"someone who is m-mature..." logan's fingers inch towards the delicate skin of your inner thigh. there's no way this was happening, you thought as his index finger plays with the lace on the center of your pink underwear. he smirked at the wet spot front and center, waiting for him.

"treats me r-r-right." every word was a struggle to form as he stroked you softly. back and forth. back and forth.

logan nods along, not letting up down below. his index finger hooks onto your underwear, pulling it aside. you weren't even sure if you were breathing at this point; all this teasing was torture.

"p-p-please, logan..." you whine. "touch me."

his thumb rubs tiny circles on your button, adoring the way his name pours from your glossy lips. your hands fly to his wrists, needing more; nails digging into his skin in the most delicious way.

"where did this greediness come from?" logan groans, dipping his index finger inside of you. "what happened to that good girl from the diner?"

logan's finger barely fit in the tight space. your head fell back and a loud moan escaped you.

"oh, you weren't letting those college boys touch you at all, huh?" logan mocks, adding another finger and creating a steady pace.

"n-no!" you whine, lifting your hips a little.

"you were waiting for a real man to have his way with you, isn't that right, pretty girl?" he growls, pushing your hips back down.

you completely missed logan pulling off to the side of the road until now. his pace increases becoming rather rough now that he isn't driving. logan leaves deep purple bruises down your neck and across your chest, praising you to no end until you gush around his fingers, completely soaking his palm.

your heart pounded like you had just finished a marathon. logan allowed you to catch your breath as he carefully removed his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to lick clean. he can feel your dazy eyes staring at him as he does so, making a real show of it.

"i've been wanting to do that for months now." he admits with a smirk.

"me too." you said, leaning forward and pulling him into a kiss; tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. logan wraps his hands around your hair, pulling you back a little when another moan falls from your lips.

"and we aren't even close to being done."

[lovelybucky1]

Dress Up (Logan x Reader)

warnings: AFAB!reader, mutant!reader, age gap, consumption of alcohol, mentions of sex, mentions of corruption kink, 18+ minors dni

masterlist

To call it a schoolgirl crush would be an insult. You're not a schoolgirl anymore; you aged out of Xavier's program a couple years ago. However, you are still young and to anyone else, you'd look like an innocent young woman. To Logan, the object of your desires and your teammate, you're naive little girl.

You've been trying to get his attention for weeks. He's gruff and grumpy, but you know he has a good heart. He cares, just from a distance. He's not one for small talk and you feel like it's impossible to break the ice with him. You get it, he doesn't want to talk to some kid he has nothing in common with, but it still frustrates you.

You enlisted the help of Rogue to learn more about him. He likes to drink and smoke and to sit in brooding silence by the fireplace. All things you already knew. You were driving yourself crazy, thinking of ways to get close to him, and in a last-ditch effort, you decided to get a little bold.

You dressed up to the point where you didn't even recognize yourself. You did your hair, put on some dark makeup, a low-cut top, and rehearsed your lines in the mirror. You looked grown up. This should do the trick.

You find Logan at the counter in the kitchen with a glass and a bottle of amber liquid sitting in front of him. Taking a deep breath, you walk up beside him.

"Mind if I join you?" you ask.

Logan tilts his head slightly to look at you before returning his gaze to the middle-distance.

"Knock yourself out."

Wordlessly, you sit on the stool next to him. You're not sure if he feels awkward too, but the tension is suffocating. You reassure yourself that you can do this, and maybe a little liquid courage would help.

The bottle of whiskey sits between the two of you and you eye it nervously. You're not much of a drinker; Charles is pretty strict about stuff like that. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab the bottle and take a too-big mouthful. The taste is awful, it burns going down your throat, and you have to prevent yourself from gagging. Smooth.

"Woah," Logan says, turning to look at you with furrowed brows. "What's with you, kid?"

You don't really know what to say to that. "I'm head-over-heels, stupid in love with you and you won't give me the time of day?' Yeah, no thanks. Instead, you focus on how that word grates on you.

"I'm not a kid," you say, looking back at him.

"What?"

"I'm not a kid. I'm a legal adult," you clarify. Just to make a point, you take another swig from the bottle and instantly regret it.

Logan huffs a laugh. "And that means your all grown up, right?"

He's teasing you and you're not sure how to handle that.

"I am grown up," you insist.

"Sure you are. Is that why you put on this little costume?" he asks, his eyes flicking down to your exposed chest for a split second before returning to meet yours.

"It's not a costume," you say, not able to keep the slight whine out of your voice.

“You're a good girl. You shouldn't be sittin' here with me, dressed like that."

You look down at your lap, feeling silly for putting on this act that he clearly saw right through.

“I just wanted your attention,” you mutter.

“Trust me, you don’t want that.”

You look up at him with a pout on your lips that he can’t stop himself from looking at. “I do want it.”

“Doll,” he starts, and that pet name gives you butterflies. “You think I don’t notice you? You’ve had my attention for weeks, but nothing good would come from gettin’ involved with me.”

Your eyes widen at his confession.

“I don’t care what happens. I want you,” you whisper.

“You’re so young…” he says, matching your volume.

“You’re just an old man.”

Logan cracks a small smile at that, but it quickly falls into a more serious expression. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me.”

“I’m sure I’d find a way,” he says.

You know he means it as a waring. A way to tell you to run the hell away from him as far as you can, but to your twisted brain, it makes you want him even more.

Feeling emboldened by his words, you slide off your stool and step close to him. Your chest is almost brushing against his as you stand between his spread thighs. He raises his eyebrows at you a bit.

"If we're gonna do this, no more of these little outfits," he says. "I like the good girl look on you better."

"Yes, sir," you mumble.

Logan makes a small growl in the back of his throat. "You're gonna be the death of me, ain't you, doll?"

"I hope not, old man," you giggle.

Logan possessively grabs ahold of your hips, his fingers gripping the soft flesh. "Can I kiss you?" he asks.

"Please, Logan."

He tugs you forward so your chest is leaned against his, and he kisses you hard and with passion, like he's held himself back from doing this for so long. It feels so good to kiss him, even better than you've imagined so many times before. It feels like the two of you kiss for hours, though it wasn't really more than a couple seconds.

When the kiss breaks, Logan is breathless. "Please tell me that wasn't your first kiss."

"It wasn't," you reassure, "but if this goes any further..." you look at him with a small smirk.

Logan growls again. "Of fuckin' course you're a virgin."

Despite being a mutant, Logan is still just a man. He only has so much self control, especially when being tested by a pretty young thing he can corrupt.

[seventeenpins]

nightly

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader word count: 1k summary: Joel is a mistake you just keep making. content/warnings: no specified Joel era so take your pick, dirty talk, literally all just smut, big dick, daddy kink, breeding kink, dubcon undertones, Joel is an asshole a/n: I have been struggling to focus on writing for a minute now, but the horny gods smiled upon me and let me get this together. Praise be to @ozarkthedog for always letting me run my godforsaken ideas past you. Love you lots 💕

You can feel the wet spot on the bed against your back. Joel has you folded like a pretzel, backs of your knees resting on his sun-freckled shoulders, wrists pinned above your head and ass suspended in the air as he drills into you. A single curl bounces at his temple, separate from the rest of his hair that's plastered with sweat to his forehead.

If you make the same mistake five days in a row, can you really still call it a mistake?

He's far too old for you, and a little too mean for you, but damned if he isn't the best lay you've ever had.

Eight inches, uncut, a dick so fucking fat you can barely wrap your hand around it. You can hardly believe he's buried balls deep in you right now. That your body can even take it.

"C'mon, honey, that's it-" Joel's voice is a growl, punctuated by heavy panting, "This pretty lil gash is fuckin' droolin' baby, my own personal slip 'n slide-"

"You're a crass old man," you whine.

"I sure am, honey," he agrees with a grin, "But don't think I can't feel the way you soak me whenever I talk crass, sweetheart."

"I hate you."

He laughs, and a bead of sweat rolls down his temple and along the curve of his nose, splashing onto your cheek. Unthinkingly, you dart your tongue out to catch some of the sweat. Joel's grin turns to a smirk.

"Hate me all you like. You're the one who's come over every night this fuckin' week. Monday through Friday, baby. Hate me so much you can't get enough of daddy's big dick, huh?"

"Fuck you, you're such an asshole-"

This jab is even less effective, punctuated with a moan and a whimper.

"Sure, sweetheart, I am. But don't pretend like we don't both know--you don't have to come here at all."

He grinds against you, coarse hair rubbing against your mound as if to further his point. Pressure hits your clit just right and it's bliss. You have to fully restrain yourself to stop from howling, and even then, you let out a ragged moan.

Joel clamps a hand over your mouth and looks you dead in the eyes.

"I love those pretty sounds, baby, but remember I got neighbors? Thought you said you'd die before anyone finds out about us."

You try to roll your eyes, but he thrusts again and you're caught in another moan. The glide of his body against your clit, especially when he's stretching you out so exquisitely? It's overwhelming. You try to stay quiet, you really do.

It's not your fault though, not when Joel's fucking you silly.

Now, though, he's frustrated.

"Quiet now, settle-"

"I'm not a fucking dog, Joel, I- ahhh-" you mumble and moan between his fingers, barely muffled at all.

"Oh really? Not a fucking dog? Wanna tell me then why you're tryna get bred like a bitch in heat?"

He smacks your cheek, drawing out another pathetic whine that only seems to cement his point.

He sneers. "Those pretty lil noises you're makin' for me? That don't sound like a good girl. That sounds to me like a nasty fuckin' slut who can't help but keep her legs spread so her daddy can fill her up good. Huh? C'mon baby. Tell me to cum inside."

"Fuck you Joel."

Suddenly, cruelly, he stops. Ceases any movement. Relaxes the grip on your wrists.

Panic overtakes you.

"What the fuck-?"

"Sorry sweetheart," he shakes his head, "You don't want this? You can see yourself out."

"No, I-"

You notice he's still sheathed inside you. You feel him do something, flexing his dick inside of you. Frankly, it's cheating.

"Please don't stop."

"What was that, honey?"

"Joooeeel-"

"Quit your whinin', use your words."

"Please fuck me."

"That ain't it, you know whatcha gotta say."

He starts rocking his hips gently, a slippery glide. It's not enough to stimulate. Just enough to make you want more. Need more.

The way you clench around him tells on yourself more starkly than your words ever could.

He's grinning again. "That's it, baby. You ready to admit what you need?"

"Come on, Joel."

"Cum where?"

You sigh. But you know you aren't gonna hold out any longer. He's pressing his thumb just above your clit and the glide of the motion is so fucking delicious it's hard not to buck against it.

Rut against it.

A bitch in heat.

"Fuck me, daddy-" you whine.

"You sound real pretty beggin'. Nearly got it honey. One more try?"

"Cum inside me."

"Mmmmm-" Joel groans, and the grip on your wrists tightens again. "Music to my ears, honey. Tell me where you want it?"

"Inside me, cum inside-"

"You want me to cum inside this lovely lil' pussy?"

"Please Joel-"

"That right?"

"Please cum in me, fill me up, fuck it deep-"

With that, his composure breaks and any restraint he had crumbles. Folds you deeper, fucks you deeper, pins you down and jackhammers into you.

You couldn't move, even if you wanted to, and that knowledge somehow heightens everything. It's blindingly bright, dizzyingly addictive. You barely notice the way Joel's lavishing you with praise, each deep thrust punctuated with good girl, good girl, good fucking girl-

When you cum, you feel the way his balls tighten as if in response, tipping over the edge mere moments after you. It could be romantic, finding yourselves cumming together, if there was any romance between you.

As you start to fade back down, you're able to pay attention again.

"That's it," he's praising you, and you realise his cock is still pulsing. You make to start moving, but he growls and holds you still. "That's right, sweetheart. Gotta let me fill you all the way up. Gonna make sure it takes."

Clarity starts to overtake you and you know that you've made a big fucking mistake. By the time you've come back to yourself, though, your pussy's flooded and pulsing oh so nicely, and Joel's pulling out of you. He moves into the other room and you hear him turn on the shower.

"You can let yourself out," he calls to you. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Your panties are sticky the whole way home.

[solardrop]

silver.

aaron hotchner x reader.

summary: hotch really doesn't think getting old is sexy. tags: fluff. a suggestive line here or there but nothing crazy. age gap (reader in their 30s, hotch is 57). jack mentioned. i think this could be read as gn!reader but i could be wrong. just short and cute. word count: 1.0k a/n: last fics rules still apply. be nice to me! when i look up photos of hair dying on pinterest i get rainbow haired e-boys so accept this haircut photo <3 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

Your name echoes across the house when Aaron yells for you from the bathroom. Once you enter the space you're greeted by his hair spiked in every which way, covered in a brownish-black goop. His thick hands are gloved and hold a small black toothbrush-like applicator.

"Sweetheart, can you check if I missed a spot?" Aaron hands you the brush and tray of inky black dye. You make a show of rolling your eyes and pouting back at him in the mirror and you take the items from him.

"I forgot it was that time of month that you decided to cover up all your sexy.." you sigh.

"Really," he scoffs, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, "I thought all the sexy was gone when I shaved.'

You almost teared up remembering the loss of his beard. A case off the grid forced him to grow one out for a few weeks. You understandably jumped his bones upon seeing the new look when he returned. The extra hair provided some out-of-this-world sensations for your softest parts that you would never forget. Only for the wicked man to shave all of it after two days, citing the "professional dress code" of the FBI as the culprit.

You snap a latex glove onto your hand, "Shush and bend over, big guy."

He smiles and kneels to face you, his rough hands gripping the fat of your thighs. You slowly worked around his head, dabbing bits of dye in bare spots. Your fingers rake through the inky black mass on his head, gently massaging his scalp. Aaron hums and thanks you under his breath.

"Do you know why I started dying my hair so consistently?"

"To torture me?"

"No," he huffs," when Jack was about... eight? I had taken him on this trip with a couple of his friends and their fathers, it was fun, but at the end of the whole thing Jack pointed at the grays starting to grow out on my hairline and turned to his friends and said-"

"Baby no...."

"'Guys look! My daddy is sooo old!'"

You clamp your lips shut to hold in your laughter. You didn't want to embarrass him further, especially with the deep red flush rising up the nape of his neck.

"Oh honey Jack was still a baby then... kids are insane you know that"

" I do, and I know. I laughed it off. I know he didn't really mean anything by it, but I didn't know if he felt like the odd one out for having an old dad.." Aaron runs his hands up and down your legs mindlessly. "And now I don't want you to feel out of place either."

You pause at that. In the few years you and Hotch have been together, never has he shown any insecurity about the difference in age between you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start now if you had anything to do with it. You slicked his hair back with your hands and placed the clear complimentary shower cap in the box on his head, snickering at how silly he looked. Once you slide the slimy gloves off you set the timer on your phone and grasp the face of the man you loved so dearly, forcing him to rest his chin on your stomach and look into your eyes.

"You have less than thirty minutes to explain to me why you think I'd care about you looking old"

"you're young-"

"I'm in my thirties-"

"you're younger," he corrects "than me by quite a bit. All your friends have other young people to share their life and first experiences with. Meanwhile, you're stuck with a sixty-year-old-"

"You're fifty-seven-" Your eyes roll.

"a fifty-seven-year-old with a sassy kid turned angsty teenager for a child." he sighs, "Sweetheart I just don't want you to ever look at me and feel a loss."

You take a moment to scan his face. Despite the stupid shower cap mushrooming around his head, his face showed no amusement when he spoke. The sweet, shy smile he always sported around you was gone, replaced with a grimace and furrowed brow.

"Aaron I have never felt more loved, accepted, and safe than I have with you. I know you know that," you say.

He nods, pressing a quick peck to your belly button before looking at you. His eyes search yours for a moment of hesitation or change in resolve. but you stand your ground.

"The only thing I worry about with you on my arm is fighting off all the homewreckers."

He wheezes a laugh at this. Eventually having to stand up before he smears the dark dye all over you. He always does this. Laughs and acts like he wouldn't have crowds of people stop to fawn over his beauty if he let them.

"Remember that neighbor at the old apartment who would only stop by with cookies when she knew you were home?"

"Or the time Jack's classmate profiled their teacher's crush on you?"

"Don't even get me started on that detective JJ keeps telling me about from years ago in New Mexico. The male detective."

He smiles at you sheepishly, "You've made your point."

"If you want to dye your hair or shave to make yourself happy I think you should," you whisper, "but Aar I love every version of you possible"

You press your lips to his cheek before you continue, "You are the most beautiful, devastatingly sexy old man out. And I will still throw myself at you in public if you decide to finally ditch the box dye."

He smiles at you fully now, eyes shining as he looks down at you. He slides his lips against yours, grinning into the kiss before he pulls away to thank you.

"Maybe after this starts to grow out I'll see how I feel about the silver again." He looks back at his reflection in the mirror. He turns his head every which way to peek at the processing strands under the shower cap.

"Think about the beard too damn it.." you mumble. You begin to wander out of the bathroom when he yells for you again.

"Oh and sweetheart one more thing," you turn to look at him, confused when he stifles a laugh, "will you still think I'm sexy if I start balding like my father?"

[cryptidghostgirl]

omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

Master Lists:

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Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 2

[caprisunnydays]

Stardew Valley x Reader Bachelor Headcanons

Alex

Before you and Alex got together, you probably became long time friends

He was def like "damn they hot" but then when it became more than just that he was like "DAMN THEY'RE HOT"

It's been a bit since he's felt those silly little butterflies, it genuinely makes him nervous

Que him leaning against a wall like "Hey bbg" but he's sweating bullets

After his confession, he feels much better, and the nervous air that only you could really pick up on has disappeared

Very PDA, arm is always around you, probably not in the back pocket but if he's tipsy enough then boom it appears

Insists on going in the mines with you but saw a slime and wanted to dip so bad but you protected him <3

"Heh...I totally wasn't scared. Don't worry babe I'll protect you" nah boy

He feels his heart melt every time he sees you and Evelyn baking together, or her just acting like your grandma

Even George has become a grandpa figure, giving advice with alex or general things

Alex is secretly insecure about himself, but with you, he finds room to grow as a person and find that those worries are unwarranted

Though he doesn't say it often, you make him feel seen, and he truly appreciates that

Elliot

(Personal fav right now so I'm about to go OFF)

If you picked romance for his book he's imagining you both as the main characters

Not a complete parallel because he's like "can't be creepy" but a teensy bit

Speaking of "can't be creepy" he has written multiple sonnets about you since realizing his feelings

Unlike some of the other bachelors, he embraces his feelings more, using his passion to inspire his writing and other endeavors

Heavy on the gifts and courting stuff

Gives you love poems at least once a week he has so many piled up but he doesn't wanna go overboard

Says the sappiest things all the time with this love struck look in his eyes

PRETTIEST MANNNNN

Words of affirmation kinda guy, he's poetic like that

Leah pokes at him for being a simp but mans could not care less he's proud

Picks out pretty sea shells that wash up on the shore and gives them to you, and they're always intact!

Big fan of the flower dance and looks forward to getting to dance with you in front of the entire town! maybe your worst nightmare but he's just happy to show you off (and his dancing skills lol)

Speaking of which, mans is gonna teach you how to waltz and a bunch of other old timey dances

At some point he WILL show up in the pouring rain to profess his love, or give you flowers, or both

You're like "Elliot we're literally dating was this necessary and he's like "OF COURSE MY DEAR"

He'd love heartstopper

Harvey

Insert too sweet by Hozier

Silly little doctor guy tries to avoid you but can't help but be drawn to you

He sees you running around doing your daily tasks, and just watches you from afar from the window of the doctor's office

Maru notices and tells you to come in sometime cuz her boss ain't gonna get nowhere by himself

When you start coming in more often he can feel himself die of embarrassment when he fails to make interesting conversation

Is very worried about your health though and fusses when you pass out in the mines/street

He gets even more adamant about you taking care of yourself once he's confessed

Way less nervous though!

Looks at you with adoration eyes when you do anything

Tipsy Harvey is a cute Harvey because he starts spilling his guts on how often he thinks of you

Whenever you're not busy with work he appreciates you stopping by the office, just to talk about both of your days

He yaps to everyone about you btw

Doesn't mean to but when someone brings you up he's like "oh yes me and my partner love to-" or "my partner loves-" etc etc

I used to not be a fan but he's such a sweetiepie

Sam

"I just love a guy who plays guitar <3" - u @Sam

That's it

I JEST

Originally he's like "hey come and hang out with me, Sebastian, and Abigail"

Then you start coming over and it's just you both alone

He's not creepy about it, just wants to spend time with you one on one

Loves showing you the songs he works on and if you want he'll show you how to play guitar too!

He's also happy with how well you get along with Jodi, always trying to get you both to bond, it makes him feel nice that you feel like you're apart of the family

Once y'all are together he does sneak you in anytime he gets the chance

He'll text you like "come over" You : I've gotta be up at 6am Him : "PLZPLZPLZPLZ-"

OG golden retriever bf

You both go shopping at Joja at 3am for fun and goof off

Or go run around in the forest taking aesthetically pleasing pintrest photos

Sebastian

You can't tell me he's not an arctic monkeys kinda guy so insert R U Mine? By Arctic Monkeys

It took him time to warm up to you

When he did you became one of the few people he could hang out with after a long day of socializing and not feel drained around

I can see him doing things that aren't always super platonic and thinking he wants to do them because

"Platonically" holding your hand, cuddling, etc

At town events he stands all close to you, complaining about how much he hates it, but showing disappointment when you mention leaving

Everyone's like are y'all dating and he goes NO way too fast

When you both finally ARE together though he's actually much less affectionate and public, but it doubles when you're in the comfort of his basement room

Finds the most joy in keeping you trapped in his bed with him until noon when you say you should be working on your farm

Especially in the colder months, then you can also share his mom's pumpkin soup

He's almost catlike with his affection

Another guy you run around and take aesthetically pleasing pintrest photos with, but his are more grunge esk

"Accidentally" leaves his hoodies at your place but he likes seeing you in em

I imagine that the characters have those closets filled with the same outfit, so when you try and give him his stuff back he goes "nah" and whips out his 100th hoodie

Shane

PACK IT UP SAVIOUR COMPLEX I mean what who said that

After you rescue him from the depths of his depressive alcoholism, he feels guilty for having feelings for you

Part of it is because he's like "fuck do I actually like them or is it just cuz they basically saved my life" and partly because it feels painfully stereotypical

Not a lot changes, though he is a lot more open to you then he is with other people, even with Marnie

Helps out with your chickens when he has free time

Talks to them about his problems and once you almost walked in on him ranting about his feelings for you (bro was shook)

But once he's confessed, well, he's still insecure about some things, but accepts your help with stride

Jealous easily, but tries not to show it

Acts of service kinda guy, so if you need him to run an errand while you're swamped with farm work? He's on it

Pulls up to your farm with a bunch of snacks and a bag full of movies for you to pick from

He sets it up while you take a shower to wash all the grime and dirt off from a days work so you can just come and cozy up on the couch with him

You're also basically besties with Jas, such a sweet girl, always asks you to play jump rope with her

You both go "say no to drugs" to her l o l

Marnie is also now your bestie so even when she's not working you can get stuff from the shop #WIN

I loooooove stardew valley it's so cool so great

[sm-baby]

MASTERPOST - Piece by Piece ♟️

NEW MASTERPOST DROPPED!! The name is subject to change~ don't worry~

Characters:

Meet Mei-lyn!

Rolandus!

Meet The King and Queen!

Queen (Pre-evolved)

Meet Councilwoman Mars!

Meet Mr. Weiss!

World Building:

Cards and Chess pieces!

Card personalities

Different species!

Evolution Guide

And yes, they evolve like pokemon.

Black Chess pieces

Black and White kingdom

Time frame

SILLIES!!!:

Yes, Mei-lyn gets paid well

SLUTSHAMING!!!

Dont talk to me until I had my coffee

Morning entertainment

no bitches! 🎉🎊

oh shi character ai

HONK!!!

Little Fuckface Shithead

Human centipede🎶

Party Tension (oopsies!!!)

Give my girl a break

╔══ ❀•°❀FAQ❀°•❀ ══╗

" How old is Mei-Lyn?" - Mei Lyn is 23 years old! Started working for the king and queen at 17, got the cock-blocking job at 18. " How tall is the cast?" - MAN... HEIGHTS ARE A HEADACHE... I DON'T WANNA THINK ABOUT THAT "Will we ever see a black king and queen?" - They come when they come! I don't think they'll be any time soon though. " Do the King and Queen have an heir?" - Naur, though they know that they'd have to at some point. Either way, they'd be very neglectful parents.

"Did the Queen and King love eachother?"

- Bro was a cheater from the beginning and the queen knew damn well. That did NOT stop her from marrying him and becoming queen tho. She's greedy and wants power.

"Why is Weiss' sister a black chess piece?'

- Weiss is mixed!

" Are black chess pieces african coded?"

- Nope! Black/White chess peices are a secondary ethnicity. There are white chess peices that are african coded.

" Can I rizz up Mei-lyn?" - Mei-lyn doesn't believe in true love. She's uncommitted and will leave you at the altar.

╔══ ❀•°❀BOUNDERIES❀°•❀ ══╗

"Can I make OCs In PTP?" - Yess!! Multiple people already have and they make me so happy! do whatever, as long as you're happy and having fun!! " Can I make NSFW?" - Yas and slay! Just keep Mei-lyn out-- she was originally a sona and-- while I'm detached from her enough to not take the simping personally, NSFW would still make me uncomfortable. - Other than that, everyone else (WHO IS LEGAL AND NOT PROSHIPPED) should be free! Please just be sure to tell and spoiler it, etc. etc. be responsible when posting NSFW! " Can I make Fanfics?" - - Yes and please show me!! That would be lovely!! " Can I ship the characters/self ships/ OC x Canon?" - Same as NSFW! Everyone is free but Mei-lyn! Though I find one-sided crushes and the simping endearing and funny (PROSHIPPING IS ABSOLUTELY NOT ALLOWED.)

" Gender and sexualitie headcanons?" - I don't like labels. All my characters are straight until said otherwise-- and I am uncomfortable with people headcanoning my OCs with genders and sexuality. I wish to have control over that. - Though, I'm flattered with mlm/wlw OC x canon shipping with the OCs! That's different in my brain for some reason!

[majinbangus]

I literally just wanted a sugar daddy/mama!au. Maybe I'll talk about sugar daddies!141 x sugar baby!reader after this. I am not an expert in sugaring, so bear w me here. readers age is not told either, but i imagine reader to be younger than price.

Times are tough; the 141 need funding the government isn't willing to cough up. Price's solution? Getting them a sugar mama.

-

You never expected your profile to be picked. It was a silly thing you signed up for in a moment of weakness when you were feeling sad and lonely, wallowing after a messy break up. You even forgot about it after a week, throwing yourself in your self-made business, working when you didn't have to, but you needed to bury yourself in it. It's no surprise you forgot all about your little profile, but it is a surprise when you see a missed inquiry from a Mr. John Price about a day old.

Hello, darling. I've never been on this side of the message before, but my boys and I don't have many options, and I needed a solution fast. I saw your profile and I think you'd be a good match for us. We're a package deal, the four of us. You don't have to pay us exactly, we just need some funding for our work. My boys and I are willing to provide you with any type of company you desire. We don't mind sharing and we take care of what's ours. There are other little details we can go more in depth later, although I might not be able to tell you everything. I'd like to hear what you have to say and any questions you may have. Hope to hear from you soon, Capt. John Price

Everything about the message is... strange... to put it kindly, but you can't help but feel this Capt. John Price is being sincere. Maybe that's a naive, lonely part of you that's convincing yourself that the message is real and not some scam. Maybe you're desperate enough to believe someone- four someone's!- actually have an interest in you.

For what you can give them, but you're not entirely innocent either. This Captain Price- you assume he's military- said he and his boys will give you what you need, and if he's a man of his word, maybe they can distract you from all the noise in your head.

You stare at the message. It wouldn't hurt to take a risk, would it? You can always block the man if he ends up being a creep.

It takes you an hour to finally work up the nerve to craft a small message back to the man. It takes less than a minute for him to respond.

Glad to hear from you, darling. I'll tell you everything you need to know.

-

The rules are simple.

You fund them with enough money each month they need it for however long they need, and they'll give you all the companionship you want. Whether that's sexual or not is up to you. It doesn't matter to them, though John informed you that if it is sexual, you would need to discuss any limits with the other men yourself. With him, you got to briefly stutter through your likes and dislikes, and he did the same, after discussing all of the rules and expectations.

You don't know if you should be thankful or not when he listened with such intense focus. Like you were briefing him on a mission or whatever it is captains like him do. It makes you nervous. He makes you nervous. Not quite in a bad way, but you've never done this before. The idea of paying another person, well this task force, in exchange for some company to fill your pathetic void feels kind of... sad.

You almost talk yourself out of this whole crazy thing, but you're also kind of curious what could come of it. If John and his boys will really be able to distract you and make you forget how lonely you are.

Being alone, being lonely, never really bothered you before, but after your last relationship... It opened up some old wounds and this sugar arrangement could be the perfect distraction. If only for a while. You'll take whatever you can get at this point.

You look over the messages John sent you, lingering over the pictures he sent of him and the other three men. Well. Two men. John told you this Simon guy would show you his face himself if he wanted to. You don't know if it's a sexual thing or not or something else entirely. You were too afraid to ask, and you don't really know if you want to know. But the other three are handsome, if the pictures John sent aren't fake.

You're still not entirely sure you should trust him. Trust that you're not gonna get all your money stolen. The site you signed up on is reputable for sugar mamas and sugar babies. You couldn't find a bad review written about it. Only positive testimonies with positive outcomes. That could be suspicious in and of itself. Hopefully, you didn't make a mistake.

John said that he would meet you next week when he had time off. Alone. In a public space, but alone. He said he didn't want the boys to overwhelm you, and you're grateful for his consideration because you would have been overwhelmed if you met all of them at once.

You still have time to cancel, if the nerves get to you and you chicken out. John even told you you could back out any time you wanted. But. You want to do something different. You need to do something different. Get yourself out of your head and focus on anything else that doesn't make your mind feel like static.

These men can help with that. This'll be good for you. Probably.

As long as this doesn't end up with you mysteriously disappearing or getting murdered, you'll be content with whatever happens. Besides, it's good to do something out of your comfort zone, and what better way than becoming a sugar mama to four military men who can give you all the company and care you could ever want? Hell, that sounds weird to think about.

There are still little things you have to work around, such as their schedules, but John promised that at least one of them would always come when you called. Already, that gives you more comfort than he could ever know, and perhaps that's foolish of you, but it truly meant a lot when he told you that.

You scroll down to the last message John sent and feel something in your gut flutter.

Can't wait to meet you, Mama.

-

this might an anthology of sorts. maybe have some loose plot to it. idk.

[hoodedjelly]

my Jenny, Tuck, Brad, Shelden, and Vega older designs ^__^

i'm watching mlaatr, still not done, i think i got like 10 more eps (and if i'm being transparent i skipped around eps... i just wanted to see vega...). And i'm absolutely loving the show!!!! i love these characters a lot, didn't like Shelden at first i'm going to be honest, #1 Shelden hater for a bit there. but he chilled out in season two and i started to ship breldon with that too so now i just love him so much.

more about my personal headcanons:

Jenny: - I am under the belief that she is transgender. Jenny was made genderless, so her deciding to be a girl was strictly her choice and i believe that makes her trans. (She's also a lesbian) - she did grow a bit, im not gonna explain how idc really i just liked her being a taller lady :-) - she has A LOT of different cute outfits and hair styles, honestly too much to draw. she never transforms back into her base show outfit when crime fighting, she just fights in her cute summer dress she don't care. - her and vega are dating grrgrgrrrr - when vega is in rule she makes it so there is complete free access between earth and cluster prime for citizens in both places. - I say that cause i think when jenny is older she moves in with vega, technically living in cluster prime but visits earth like everyday. And brad/shelby/tucker/wakeman visit cluster prime - Jenny also hangs out with the nicktoons unite gang, but i deffo feel like its just that secondary friend group that you don't talk to with for months. when you talk again its the same goofiness as before - i think danny calls for her help when he needs it (also manny) Tuck: - he is still a little shit but we love him - adhd boy - questioning cis (he/him) - he got into robotics/stem and builds little silly things - with that, he gets help from Shelby - pretty much just a silly teen, he's on the internet a lot and has "cringe" interests - but idk he's having fun and being silly and finding himself (those interests is stuff like sonic and among us) Shelden(Shelby) - honestly kinda nervous about ppl thoughts on my Shelden, idk it makes so much sense in my brain - hits you with the transfem beam (she/they) Pansexual (she just wants anyone type of vibe) - I think when jenny is visiting vega often that leaves Shelby and Brad hanging out alone a lot. which they don't mind honestly, they are actually good friends! - but during that they just get closer and start catching feelings. Shelby eventually lets go of her feelings about jenny and realizes they were a real jerk and weirdo to her. brad helps them through that and eventually her realizing she's trans. blah blah they in love and kiss at some point. - Shelby is also a furry lmaooo her fursona is a cat.

Brad: - bisexual cis man (he/him) - Still his old brad self if i'm being honest. - totally forgot to say i think all 3 of them go off to college together (even though jenny doesn't have to i feel like she would prob want to just for the experience, but tell me if you think differently i'm still unsure) - i really don't know what else to say sorry brad! he's literally just as silly as ever man. he's just also gay - i will say here i feel it takes a lot longer for shelby and brad to start dating then jenny and vega. they got that slow burn kinda shit going on, since a lot of that is shelby being confused about her feelings. and jenny and vega just hit it off right away if im being honest, very high school sweethearts. - (also i think shelby makes brad make a fursona to match hers, so brad got a dog fursona)

Vega: - Lesbian cis (she/her) - That ending of her just ruling cluster prime was just so crazy to me cause like, aint she like 16? - i think she has a lot of stressed nights and fearing she's not doing the right thing for her people, and jenny tries to help as much she can - that is why jenny visits so much, she wants to help her. - very much got those nights were she accidently falls asleep at her desk, jenny finding her and giving her a blanket and a kiss goodnight - it's not like she's unhappy, she is actually very very passionate about her work and wants to NOT be like her mom - and yeah she deffo goes to robo therapy for the stuff with her mom. - i think it's a conflict where vega is scared her mom is gonna come back and jenny has to reassure her that if she does they'll get rid of her for good.

imma be honest a lot of my hcs are pretty half-baked and random things, im sure im going to think of more stuff in the future but that will be in different posts.

[lovedrruunk]

'Girl next door જ⁀➴♡ Chapter 1

In which Joel plays Cupid in order to help a hopeless Ellie win over the cute girl next door.

Series Masterlist!

prologue! - chapter 2!

"It's just Sugar"

w.c; 2.2k

[silly awkward Ellie Williams x fem reader!]

"'Morning" Ellie said slowly as she walked into the kitchen eyeing Joel suspiciously.

"What's with the face?"

There Joel stood behind the kitchen island wearing a pink and white polka dotted apron with ruffles that he had “borrowed” from Maria and never given back. In front of him was a bowl of yellow cupcake batter.

“You never bake. You’re like, terrible at it actually.” Ellie said as she lazily made her way behind the island. Standing to his side she reached out her hand in order to dip her finger into the batter. Putting it up to her lips she licked it off while grimacing.

“Ellie, that's disgusting." Joel said furrowing his brows at her.

"That's disgusting." She pointed back to bowl looking up at him. "How do you mess up cupcakes?" She says before walking away.

"Hope you get salmonella." He said teasingly rolling his eyes as she heads to the counter picking up an apple "Salmo- What? Never mind actually I don't care." She says biting into it chewing obnoxiously while she's at it. "Who are we trying to poison with your awful baking skills anyway?"

"Y/N."

Ellie chokes on her apple coughing aggressively before spitting it out. She looks up at him bewildered.

"Why are you baking cupcakes for Y/N?" She spews out quickly furrowing her brows at him, confusion written all over her freckled face.

"Technically it's for her old man, he got a promotion last week. Thought it'd be nice to bring something to celebrate." He smiles smugly to himself as he continues to stir the batter.

Ellie blinked. "You couldn't have just bought a cake like a normal person?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Joel shrugged. "Besides, it's the thought that counts."

"Yeah, well, your thoughts are gonna give everyone food poisoning," Ellie muttered, taking another bite of her apple.

Joel ignored her, focusing on pouring the batter into the cupcake tin. "By the way I'm outta sugar. Think you can head next door and ask Y/N for some?"

Ellie froze. "Are you serious? It's just sugar, you'll live. What do you need sugar for anyway? You're already done." The pitch of her voice rising the more she continues to complain, trying and failing to be nonchalant.

Joel looked at her, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I need to make frosting. Unless you wanna use salt instead."

Ellie sighed throwing the apple core into the trash.

"Besides, I thought you two were friends? Like 'ya said It's just sugar." He continued.

Ellie rolling her eyes looking up at him. "We are! Or- were. But that's not the point... it's just-" She looks around the kitchen trying to think of the right word "stupid." She huffs as she crosses her arms.

"Oh wow you think she's stupid? Well that's not nice of you."

"You know what I meant!"

"Ellie," He said softly reassuring her "It's no big deal."

"Yea but-" She started, then stopped. She knew she was overreacting but how could she not. Ever since the day Joel had brought up the idea of you being a potential love interest for her it seemed like you had taken over her every thought. She stayed up some nights thinking back to her interactions with you, overanalyzing your every word probably just convincing herself of something that wasn't there. If he had asked her to fetch something from your house a week ago she would have done it without a second thought, but now it seemed impossible.

"You're just borrowing sugar Ellie. You'll live." He says with a happy look on his face handing her a measuring cup.

"I won't but okay." She rolled her eyes begrudgingly reaching her hand out to accept it, walking over to put on her shoes and jacket. "And don't say 'borrow' as if we're gonna give it back, that makes no sense. What you should be giving back is that god awful apron..."

"Heard that!"

As she stepped outside the morning air was chilly and the sun was just starting to warm up the street. Ellie’s mind raced with a jumble of thoughts. It wasn’t just about the sugar or Joel’s baking, it was about you. As she made her way down the stairs she thought back to when you were both kids. Her skipping over to your house for dinner with her own dish to share, some Frankenstein contraption of anything good she could find in the fridge. You had always said you loved her cooking but now being older and wiser she knew you were just saying that to be nice, but still, the memory of you appreciating whatever she brought over made her smile. She'd bet money that you would play the same part when Joel comes over to give your family his gross cupcakes. She almost felt bad about the whole thing... almost.

The walk to your house felt longer this time around. Was it just because she was walking extra slow out of fear of knocking on your door? Maybe, maybe not. I mean c'mon, knocking on a girls door to ask for sugar that should be lightwork for her. Afterall, Ellie had been through hell and back over the years, what's talking to you gonna do? Like Joel had said, she'd live.

Now standing in front of your front door she took a deep breath. A part of her wanted to just turn around and go back to Joel measuring cup empty or hell just go to the store and buy some cupcakes herself, but she knew if she went back to him sugarless she wouldn't be able to look him in the eye. With retreating being off the table she decided it was best to just get it over with, sucking it up, growing a pair, and locking the fuck in.

Reaching her hand out to knock on your door she chose to ignore the way it slightly trembled. Once, then twice, then thrice, then- 'fuck is knocking 3 times too much? i'm being annoying arn't i' Seconds felt like hours as she waited for anyone to open the door, when suddenly

"Ellie! Hey, what's up?"

Ellie stood there for a second blankly staring at you as you greeted her. You were in your pajamas, hair still messy from your nights rest and eyes a little puffy. The morning sun shined on you making you glow and she couldn't help but think looked really cute. 'which isn't weird at all because it's totally normal to be able to admit that someone is attractive without there being any meaning behind it!' After you two had fallen out she never really took the time to observe how you changed, but now face to face really looking at you she could see just how much you've grown. You no longer had the babyface you had in all her memories of you two together, you had grown into it, you looked perfect actually now that she had thought about it. Pretty. But not like pretty pretty like pretty, like she could stare at your face for hours without needing to blink pretty. It felt weird to suddenly recognize all these differences at once but she quickly snapped out of it. She forced a smile, hoping it didn't look as strained as it felt.

"Hey, uh, Joel's trying to bake, and he ran out of sugar. Can we borrow some?" She cringed heavily at herself the moment the words slipped out her mouth. 'Borrow? Really?'

"Borrow? Really? I'll be expecting you to give it back then." You chuckled lightly teasing her. Little did you know that one little sentence just ruined her entire year. Ellie face whitened as she Internally freaked out, she felt her face heat up and her palms sweat.

Ellie chuckled nervously, tightening her grip around the measuring cup in her hand. "Oh, sorry, no, uh, I'm not sure why I said 'borrow.' You're right, that makes no sense. I mean, how does one even 'borrow' sugar? Like, do we measure it out and give it back later? Or do we just...?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Ellie, relax. I was just messing with you. You don't have to return the sugar."

God how did she manage to make it even worse? "Oh, right. Yeah, of course. That makes way more sense. Sorry, I'm just... yeah." As she was forcing another smile she thought about Joel and how he was probably in the kitchen right now without a care in the world. She wished him the absolute worse in this moment, after all this was all his fault, him and his stupid cupcakes. In fact, she hates cupcakes now! He has officially ruined cupcakes for her and she made a promise to herself that she'd let him have it later... if she gets out of this alive.

You held the door open a bit wider. "You're welcome to come in. Here I'll take this from you." You smiled sweetly reaching out to take the measuring cup from her hands. You looked down at it once you felt how wet the handle was but you paid it no mind.

"Sure. Yeah, thanks." She muttered smiling softly as she followed you inside.

Once through the door she was hit with a wave of nostalgia. The familiar scent of your home, a mix of fresh flowers and something distinctly you, brought back a flood of memories. She looked around, noting that not much had changed. The same cozy furniture, old family photos on the walls, and the soft, inviting ambiance.

Ellie's eyes landed on a series of framed photos on a nearby shelf. She walked over, noticing one that showed you at around thirteen, smiling awkwardly holding up a peace sign. 'there's the face i remember', she thought with a smile.

You noticed her looking at the photos and came over, glancing at the one Ellie was staring at. "Ah, the awkward years," you said with a laugh, a painful expression on your face. "My mom insists on keeping those up for some reason, it's so embarrassing.."

Ellie chuckled, feeling a little more at ease. "It's not so bad. If it makes you feel any better I thought you were the coolest."

You grinned, nudging her playfully. "Get real." You said before walking over to the kitchen opening one of the top cabinets. "You were like the coolest of the cool. God I thought you were so badass Ellie." You laughed some more as you reminisced on your own memories with Ellie while on your tippy toes reaching for the sugar. To this day you'd never admit it but a part of you sensed a bit of pride for being Ellies first friend in Jackson. When her and Joel had first moved here she was like a breath of fresh air. Always knew what to say, always had some snarky comeback, she never took shit from anybody and she'd never know just how much she inspired you. Jackson seemed so quiet before she arrived, in the months you had been friends with her you seemed to have laughed more than you had in your entire life. She was like a firecracker but you had noticed that over the years she seemed to die out, just little enough for you to notice. It wasn't anything bad really, just what growing up does to people you guessed.

"That's because I was badass. But so were you." Ellie smiles, your confession of finding her 'badass' had made her a lot happier than she'd care to admit. She thought visiting you for the first time again would be awkward and insufferable just because of how you two had slowly fallen out, but talking to you again began to feel so casual. Ellie started to forget why she was worried in the first place.

"Ok well you weren't just badass, you were hilarious, smart, pretty, fun. Seriously El's, you were like everything."

There it was. Exactly what she was afraid of. Words from you that probably means nothing that will keep her up at night overthinking. You said it so casually, pouring sugar into the cup smiling. Ellie looked at you feeling her smile strain again. You were just being as sweet as always, no biggie.

"Thanks." In all honesty didn't know what else to say. She was flattered, of course she was, but she didn't know how exactly to take it so for now she chose to ignore it.

"Here you go," you said turning around walking towards her. You handed it to her with a smile. "Tell Joel I said good luck with the baking."

Accepting it she thanked you again as she let you walk her to the door. Stepping out she turned towards you again, "Oh, and congratulations on your dads promotion."

"Dads... promotion?"

The two of you stood there staring at each other blankly, progressively becoming more confused by the second.

"Uhh yea! Thank you Ellie! I'll see you around."

. . .

Walking through the front door Ellie let out a loud groan, wiggling out of her jacket before making her way to the kitchen setting the measuring cup on the kitchen island.

"Joel! I got your stupid sugar!" She yelled out for him.

Looking back to the island she noticed a note left for her.

took too long

went to the store to buy more sugar

be back in 20

-Joel : )

"Ugh."

. . .

Thanks 4 reading u all! Notes r appreciated! :3

authors note!!!! <33; SRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!! i got rlly insecure abt my writing tbh but then i realized like i dont have to be this serious writer using big words and crazy detailed descriptors with 12k word chapters ykwim? im a gay teenage girl so im gonna write like one! Dialogue is definitely my strong suit like ahh its so fun. be honest guys does the way i write bug u? is it too fast paced? cuz i feel like it is TELL ME!!!!!! ALSO ITLL START TO GET MORE ROMANTIC AND SILLY SOON I PROMISEE

[TAGLIST YAY !!!! ヾ(＾ ∇ ＾).] @liasxeatt - @softlysunrays - @radioheadfan699 - @4ftergloww - @elliepoems - @sapphointhe21stcenturyposts - @cattjull - @elliescoolerwife < u two have to fight > @elliewilliamsrealgf - @ratdungeon - @nombreuxx - @localgirl56 - @givenoutlaw - @i-fucking-love-women-blog (so real) - @forgetdisturbance - @boobdrug - @ellieusedtampon (oh...) - @cyberl33ch - @hysteriawillnotsuccumb - @machetegirl109 - @yumimak - @lesbian-useless

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Pirate King! Jinwoo x Siren! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 032 ✦ ┆・

[ TW: Yandere Jinwoo, Violence , all Shadows Mentioned are in Human Form ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 1 || Part 2♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Across the oceans with the stars as my guide, my Bride, I will find you ] ¡! ❞

Jinwoo was a huge mommy's boy, that's for sure. But like any other son, he also idolizes his father to the point that he begs Il-hwan to take him out to his mini ship trips to which the old man humors the little boy and teaches him how to be a good sailor.

Il-hwan often took Jinwoo in his short trips, mostly just to let the boy be more physically active. After all, young boys oughta be active to grow into healthy and happy men.

Well... That was until Il-hwan lost sight of Jinwoo who wandered off into the island the little boy was accompanying him into to deliver some goods.

While poor Sung Il-hwan's heart was about to burst from his chest— His son meanwhile... Was busy getting heart eyes and butterflies fluttering in silly little tummy.

Jinwoo was your typical idiot child after all, he is reckless and wanders off despite his father's strict orders not to be 10 steps farther away from him.

He just got curious at the pretty little shimmering shells on the sand that seemingly created a path for him to follow.

So what does he do? Duh, he follows it.

As he does so, Jinwoo carefully picks up each shell so he can turn them into a cute little seashell necklace or crown for his baby sister who was just recently born. She's his little princess and he wants to make her as pretty as she possibly can because she is his baby angel.

While picking up the last shell, Jinwoo was startled and fell back when he heard a splash on the waters. He thought for sure that it is his father but instead he was met with a curious gaze peeking behind a moss-covered rock. The orbs were wide and beady, similar to his but more naive. Adorned on the stranger's head were several pearls acting like a glittering stars against the lovely wet strands.

Jinwoo had dropped all the precious seashells he had picked up, but was too distracted on your gaze that the sheepish boy cant help but fumble around on himself.

"E-erm..." Jinwoo speaks up, but soon panicked as he saw your frightened expression. "W-wait, no, no... Don't be scared! I won't hurt you, promise!"

He says, hurriedly lowering himself and then stretching his tiny palms out to you to show that he meant no harm.

Well, how could such bright and round grey eyes show hostility anyway?

So, you also started fumbling around, pushing yourself closer to the curious human and pressing his palms against yours.

Jinwoo seemed to have had his breath hitch when your skins had touched. He kept sputtering out nonesense, before his tiny little digits intertwined with your with his face red to the very tip of his ears.

"Pretty..." Jinwoo mumbles shyly.

It was an odd language to you, but somehow you could tell that this curious little human was very gentle.

And when you beamed, he grins right after.

Innocent and lovely smiles on both your precious faces.

Jinwoo tugs at your hand, leading you to the water so you two could play. He didn't seem to care at the fact that both of you are two different species. While he had legs that could walk and run, you had a lovely tail that you use to traverse the lovely oceans.

You showed Jinwoo the prettiest parts of the waters, while he in turn showed you some tricks he could do. From hopskotch to doing cartwheels and climbing trees just to see you beam as he swung upside down.

Your voice was soundless, and he understood that you did that to protect his ears. There were stories that a siren's voice can burst one's eardrums unless you are bonded to one.

Jinwoo didn't know how long he played with you, but he eventually became tired and just curiously stared into your pretty and dreamy orbs seemingly carved out of the milky way while your foreheads are pressed together.

He then feels a swirl in his heart, a faint, blue glow eminating from underneath the fabric of his shirt. The boy realizes the peculiar feeling, looking down at himself.

But weirdly enough, he wasn't a tad bit alarmed at the mystical sight.

Just as he was about to ask you— Il-hwan's panicked and booming voice echoed from the forest behind the both of you and it instantly scared you away.

Jinwoo helplessly watched you dive into the waters, instantly disappearing into the distant blue.

As soon as Il-hwan sees his little boy, he immediately embraces a dumbfounded Jinwoo who was seemingly too frozen to say anything at all.

"Jinwoo, son, what has dad told—...." Il-hwan pauses, his words disappearing in his throat as he sees Jinwoo's tearful face.

"M-my siren"

"Siren?" Il-hwan scrunches his forehead.

"Dad, my siren!" Jinwoo yells, his face completely panicked as he starts to cry. "My siren, dad my siren! You have to get my siren back!"

"Jinwoo!..." Il-hwan's heart breaks at his son's wailing.

Jinwoo for one was never an insolent or needy child, he had always been good and obedient. Even a bit more closed off than most kids, he's a shy boy who never speaks much. But seeing the state of the poor child this distressed made Il-hwan's heart tremble with sadness.

All he could do was cradle the small boy who kept begging for him to find his dear siren.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ �� ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo could never really forget that day, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't. Not that he would want to anyway. It would be the same memory night after night.

The sight of that precious siren, how his father spent hours trying to console him a she had his mental breakdown about his precious little 'Friend'.

He would grow into a fine young man, too fine in fact.

The desire to meet you again burned in his heart like a flame dancing in the pits of hell.

Jinwoo wants to find you.

Jinwoo has to find you.

He needs to.

After all, he worked several years earning a reputation in the seas as a cruel tyrant. Not that he is really a villain, no, in fact— He was just passing by a bunch of bastards trying to hijack his ship— The ship he spent hundreds of golds on in order for him to pursuit your missing figure. The nitwits just couldn't sit down and shut up for once.

He spent all of his youth practicing and preparing, researching as much as he can about sirens.

Their habitats, their breeding routes, and their most known locations.

Jinwoo is not an idiot, he actually returned to the very spot he had met you in but found no signs of siren activity. Not even a path of seashells was laid out anywhere even as he circled the shore hundreds of times.

Frustrating? Yes.

But nothing was more frustrating than the fact that all these fucking hooligan pirates were trying to ruin his chances of finding your precious existence in these vast oceans.

He can't waste time playing petty mind games and bargaining.

Jinwoo's gamble is him trying to find a sliver of your trace.

And as he stood bloodsoaked atop of the remains he had mauled so grotesquely, his head tilted upwards with the most faded and lifeless purple orbs gazing at the pouring rain— He felt a sharp stab at his chest.

"Captain!" Beru wails, dropping his sword as he hurriedly assisted his master who had almost collapsed on the floor.

"My liege, you've pushed yourself too much" Bellion says as he took off his cloak and draped it over Jinwoo's figure who was still clutching his chest as if out of breath. "I beg you, captain, please breathe."

"I can't rest not," Jinwoo grits his teeth, moaning in pain as he feels another sharp stab in his heart.

It felt as though his insides are being burned alive, roasting him from within while his heart throbbed like it had a dagger embedded in it's flesh twisting so torturously slow.

Between death and this pain, Jinwoo would have rather chosen the afterlife if it weren't for the fact that he's so fixated on seeking for his precious siren.

His crew would gather around, panicking and attempting to be of help but to no avail

Since eventually, Jinwoo would have passed out from the agony he feels.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"It's not looking good," Igris sighs, running his hand through his long strands after patching up Jinwoo's chest with a bandage. "His injuries are getting more severe by the day."

"Where did it come from?" Beru asks hastily, gritting his teeth. "Did my liege's siren curse him?"

"Far from it," Igris explains. "If the siren had indeed cursed captain, then there is no reason why his the skin directly on top of his heart would rot and create cracks like it's made of glass. The injury not only affects his heart, but also eats him from the inside out. The black ichor spilling out of the wound shows that this is a divine punishment"

"Divine Punishment?!" Beru bellows, his expression turning dark. "Our liege is a gentle soul, why would he of all the bastards of this godforsaken world would suffer such ailment?!"

"Beru, your temper." He sighs, pulling the blanket up to Jinwoo so that their captain could rest more easily. "He has not offended any god, nor is he being punished for his misdeeds."

He takes a deep breath, "It's the aftereffects of being seperated from their mate."

"Mate? But our liege is human?" Beru inquires, flabbergasted.

"Yes, but he has bonded with a siren" Igris scoffs, crossing his arms as if mocking Beru's lack of comprehension. "Our liege told us of the story, of how he met a lovely little siren his age when he was but a wee little lad. A glow suddenly emanated from his chest as if there was a star being planted in his body. That is a typical way for sirens to propose innocently. And our liege has wholly accepted the bonding ritual. Unfortunately, the siren had fled. Prolonged separation from one's mate can result in the symptom's our liege has been showing. His young body is strong hence why he could keep the injuries at bay most of the time. But it seems that our captain will reach his limit soon if we do not find that siren soon."

"...." Beru droops, feeling hopeless.

"Best we let him rest for tonight," Igris simply taps his shoulder, signaling for his colleague to leave the captain's quarters too.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo had woken up in the middle of the night, he was completely exhausted from the battle that took place in the afternoon.

He reached out and downed the mug of water waiting at his bedside before getting up and donning a coat over his shoulders to take a simple walk on the empty deck.

"Where are you, really?" Jinwoo sighs, bringing his finger up where a tiny little fish made of water playfully nuzzled his digit. "My darling bride, how am I to gift you all the treasures I've coveted if I cant even have you here, hm?"

Jinwoo had discovered that the little fish friend he had been secretly summoning from his heart was in fact a proof that he and the siren had bonded. If humans had their rings, sirens would have these little creatures as proof of sacramental union.

It was adorable, really.

Sure, one could say that he is only searching for the siren with the sole purpose of prolonging his life but that wasn't his goal.

No.

Even if the bond didn't exist, Jinwoo would still choose the same path as he does now.

If he dies, his siren would die too.

And as a stubborn, reckless and steadfast king of the pirates who even has power above the holy king himself— Jinwoo wouldn't back down in this.

So long as he sees a star twinkling above the unruly oceans, he will continue to sail in search of his precious bride.

꒰ A/N: Wont be making any fics for the next two weeks because exams yay but this will have a part 2 so dw and be patient xD... I'll let this marinate ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[thinkinonsense]

MY HAIR𑁍

old man!logan howlett x housewife reader

cw: fluff, minor nsfw content, soft logan

wc: 800+

part one

next part

you aren't an insecure person by any means, but that doesn't mean you don't have insecurities. whenever you even attempted to explain them to logan he always hushed you up with a kiss and whispered how he loves you no matter what. he never understood why someone so angelic would fixate on the smallest of imperfections?

the main insecurity that logan could never wrap his head around was, your hair.

growing up, your hair was always long, thick and curly. people either loved it or hated it but you always hated it. kids at school were so incredibly cruel that every summer you would cut it short. getting rid of all the heat damage caused by the constant abuse of your straightener.

logan and you met during the winter months when you usually let the curls be free, not caring much to do anything with it until the heat came again.

during the beginning of your relationship, he didn't seem to be bothered by the barrier you created around your hair. he questioned all the straightening products and asked why you always had to cut it come summertime.

over time it became logan's main obsession. he knew you were possessive of it, always smacking away his hand anytime he tried to wrap a pretty curl around his finger. he could always smell your shampoo lingering which only added to the obsession. the absolute worst was when you rode him because all he wanted to do was tug at the ends until your mouth hung open.

at every chance he could, he would offer to wash your hair or style it for you. it was painful for him to see how soft and full of volume it looked; bouncing as you walked.

for god's sake, logan learned how to do a fuckin' french braid, that's how badly he wanted to know that part of you.

yet, your walls never crumbled.

one night while the two of you were watching an old western in bed, logan decided that he had had enough of it.

"sweetheart?" logan asked, looking down at you as your head rested on his chest.

"hm?" you peer up at him through your lashes.

"can i ask you something?"

"anything."

logan took a deep breath and then asked, "why won't you let me touch your hair?"

the question sounded silly, and he knew it but at this point, logan was desperate. even now, seeing your hair caged up with a claw clip was torture for him.

"i-i didn't think it was a big deal." you stutter, caught off guard by his forwardness about the topic.

"it's not." he looks longingly into your eyes. want you to appreciate it the way i do."

there's a look in your eyes that is debating whether or not to give logan what he wanted seemly badly. you trusted logan, he would never make fun of you. maybe it was silly to keep that part of yourself hidden from him. the two of you are married after all.

logan watches as you sit on your knees in your silky navy pajamas. he can hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you exhale then reach up, touching the clip in your hair. it felt borderline erotic to logan as he watched your hair fall effortlessly over your shoulders.

"i'm going to give you instructions, alright?" you warn him.

logan wanted to roll his eyes as you inform him to not tangle your hair. he knew how to be gentle, but he wasn't going to blow this opportunity.

"want you to touch softly just like how you do my mind." your voice was barely a whisper as you watched his hand lift up to your shoulder.

he nods, stroking the soft follicles from your earlobe to your waist. it was smoother than silk. every curl fit perfectly around his finger.

"it's beautiful, sweetheart." he complements, watching as a blush rises to your cheeks. "can't believe you've been hiding it from me all this time."

you climb onto his lap to kiss him when something snaps deep inside of logan. the shampoo.

"fuckin' lavender..." he groaned against your lips. "could smell it a mile away."

"love you, lo." you pull back to say. "i'm sorry that it took so long to-"

your words fade in your throat as he tugs at the hair resting near your ass while grinding up against you.

"don't apologize, just want you to love yourself the same way i love you." he says in between leaving marks on your jaw, inhaling your scent.

a moan falls from your lips, leaving logan to wonder if it was his words that caused it or the fact that he was now tugging a fist full near your neck. either way, it didn't matter because he would never stop touching your hair. at least not while you sing like a hummingbird for him.

[tiredandoptimistic]

Stan and the cycle of abuse

Like a week ago I saw this good post about Stan and the twins, how with Mabel he's silly because that's what he never got but with Dipper he's stern because that's what he needed. I think the last line was about how punching was all Stan every felt he was good at. Anyways, it wormed it's way into my brain and I typed out a whole response, but it got eaten by tumblr and I lost the original so now I'm just making my own post.

What's so interesting to me about Stan's philosophy towards raising kids is that he's trying to pass on the lessons that saved his life. We don't get too many details about what his life in the time between being kicked out and the portal incident, but it's more than enough to make it clear that he's wound up in just about every shitty situation a person can find. Like he tells Ford, he's been to prison in three different countries and once had to chew his way out of the trunk of a car. He's homeless and living out of his car and motel rooms. He doesn't even have enough money to pay for a loaf of bread. He's got a bat ready to protect himself from "goons" coming to collect on some sort of debt. Being a tough guy and quick liar who'll kick anybody's ass is what's let him survive to age thirty. When Stan gets thrown to the curb, he yells "I don't need you, I don't need anyone!" and he's more or less right. Sure, he's gone through some awful stuff; but as soon as he got a stable house to live in he builds up his own business that thrives for thirty years. The lessons in boxing and cheating and "being a man" paid off in a big way, so that's what he wants to pass along to Dipper. That way, when the world picks a fight, he'll be able to fight back.

Here's the thing though: Stan shouldn't have had to do any of that.

Yes, Filbrick's "tough love" parenting is what prepared Stan for life on the streets, but it's also what tossed him out on the streets to begin with. If Filbrick was really a good dad, he wouldn't have left his seventeen-year-old son to fend for himself. Stan doesn't seem willing to acknowledge this, probably due in part to the extreme guilt and self-loathing he feels leading him to believe that he deserved the treatment he got. Filbrick was straight-up abusive in a lot of what we've seen of him, but Stan sees that as just how boys are raised, so it's what he passes on to Dipper.

It's just something about how Stan is desperate to prepare Dipper for the horrors while also fiercely protecting him. He wants to toughen Dipper up, but Dipper doesn't need to be tough and independant like Stan because he's got the support system Stan never had. If he ever got kicked out by his parents, Dipper would have Stan, Ford, Mabel, Soos, Wendy, and the entire freaking town of Gravity Falls lining up to give him someplace to stay and a warm meal. Sure, Dipper had to fight literal actual monsters at a very young age, but he was never alone for it. When Dipper falls, there's someone to catch him.

I simply love how Stan's attempts to be a good guardian lead to him being kinda shitty in an attempt to protect Dipper from things that he'll never have to face precisely BECAUSE Stan is such a good guardian. I hope that at some point he realizes that the way his dad treated him was fucked up, and that Dipper deserves some of the straighforward caring that he seems to have an easier time expressing towards Mabel.