#a bald white man maybe?

[inanshalla]

Addressing @/slut-strut-satan

blocked by OP of course so I will post my response here thanks to @shoutydwarf for the reblog!

I'm the user OP is talking about and let me start off by saying as an abuse survivor myself, it is very problematic the implication that I am somehow engaging in any form of victim apologism and/or attacking an abuse victim as that is not ever something I would actively engage in privately or otherwise.

With that being said, the reason why the egg allergist community exists is specifically because of fans like OP, a self-appointed judge and jury who spends their entire 24 hours a day outright attacking, harassing and muzzling anyone who even so much as says anything slightly negative about a fictional character that they personally enjoy and have put their entire personality into defending online. Whew I wish black female characters had shooters like this... anyhow

OP has engaged in very problematic and racist behavior in the not so distant past and still today, that is likely why they deactivated their previous account where they spent their time being a pretty gross person in defense of a fictional white male character in just the screenshot below alone they implied that:

vivienne, a black woman, is a facist.. imagine calling a BLACK WOMAN a fascist because they think she actively put mages into concentration camps when no such thing happens if she is made divine--in fact morrigan says in the inquisition ending should she be made divine that mages flourish under her rule. She never even says that is something she will do anyway.

calling qunari and by extension the qun fascist when they are the only black/brown coded race... many forget this but gaider did refer to the qunari in the past as a "militant islamic borg" and OP just repeats that extremely islamaphobic rhetoric and anyone saying anything against that very problematic rhetoric is supporting fascism for some reason???

All in all, OP is not a good person and the way they hide behind buzzwords and specific types of rhetoric to trigger others all in defense of a white male character should very much illuminate that they are someone who does not actually care about abuse, racism, fascism etc because they only care about it when it is to defend a fictional white man against a few people who are even just mildly critical him in VERY SMALL invite only communities.

[pivsketch]

found a screencap of this from last month and im posting it before i lose it forever. i spent all that time drawing and redrawing basil's hand/arm only to remove it completely in the end because i dont think he'd have that obvious of a tell.* i like it tho... alas

the rest of this comic (and another one from last year) relies on me needing to finalize what taggart's friend looks like and i STILL havent gotten around to it. sigh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*his parents are bona fide Professional Social Manipulator Liar Types i dont think itd be befitting for him to be a bad liar. he is enough of an almost-failson without also being a bad liar. i will admit there IS a case for it though (self sabotage). but i think he does enough self-incrimination by visibly having a reaction to a somewhat innocuous question and-- err... ok at this point im rambling about stuff you can't see. hold the thought for when i post the comic page im talking about in 999 years

[spicebiter]

Reportedly our girl Rosie was abandoned before ending up where we adopted her from and I'm starting to wonder if her previous household included a 30+ balding white man that she really liked because not only is she absolutely obsessed with Mr. Midwest Magic Cleaning but she seems to have an affinity for NorthernLion now too

[darknight3904]

buy me presents, baby!

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The holiday season is packed enough as it is. On top of it all, Joel has a cute little girlfriend he just can't seem to resist spoiling...

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Smut Unprotected p in v, literally one spank, riding, missionary, Joel's a bit of a tease, pregnancy mention (no ones actually pregnant, don't worry) No outbreak au, modern au, viagra mention, unspecified age gap (mid/early-20s reader in mind), Rich older bf Joel!! I don't know how Hinge works sorry.

Word Count: 2.7k

Based on the song buy me presents by Sabrina Carpenter

Masterlist

The local mall was a buzz with what you swore was the entire state of Texas. Everywhere you turned, someone was brushing by you, mumbling an excuse me or just grunting an apology.

"Maybe we should just go home...There's so many people here." You say as you stand off to the side.

"Oh c'mon we drove all the way here, don't you wanna take a peek at some things, darlin'?"

Joel's warm southern tone sent a tingle of warmth down your spine. He was always so charming, that's how he won you over in the first place, his charm.

You'd stumbled across his Hinge profile six months ago. Your friend, Jess had jokingly set your profile to look for men over ten years older than you.

"Trust me, Dilfs are a whole different ballpark, girl!"

You hadn't believed her, after all, who would want some old half-bald, blue pill-taking man sitting across from them at dinner?

Things of course changed late one Wednesday night when Joel, 40 popped up on your screen. Not only did he have all his hair (and teeth!) but damn it he was so hot.

For lack of a better word, Joel was the perfect gentleman. He'd picked you up for your first date right at 7, opened all the doors for you, and even pulled your chair out for you to sit at the restaurant. Conversation had flowed so easily with him, that you'd almost forgotten you had just met the man across from you.

Fast forward a few months and here you were walking the mall with the head and Co-owner of Miller Construction Co. Joel's big hand cradled yours as he opened the door to Sephora.

"Said you needed some more of that lip balm you like right? Let's get it now."

You nodded and let him pull you into the store. He always did this, pulled you into stores so you could look at things. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't always buying half the things you picked up to admire. Hell, one time you were at Macy's with him and made a joke about the adult Spiderman onesie that was being sold, two days later it was sitting in your lap in just your size.

Jess had told you to enjoy it, to let him buy you everything your little heart desired but you couldn't help but feel guilty. You already spent most of your time sleeping at Joel's place, showering there, and eating his food. What were you even working for if you couldn't buy a measly lip balm for yourself?!

You pulled the one you wanted from the shelf. You'd run out a few days ago and your lips had begun to crack without it. Your eyes fell down to look at the price that was beside the scent

Twenty-four bucks?! That was nearly two hours of working at the shitty secretary job you had down at the local library! Whoever was setting prices at this company needed a serious reality check.

Joel's back was turned as he was staring at an array of brushes, mumbling that no one needed that many things for their face. Perfect! You could sneakily set this back on the display and-

"What're you doin'? Isn't that the one?"

Shit.

"Well yeah, but..."

"Then put it in the basket."

Joel's outstretched arm came up to present the little black and white basket he'd taken from a worker when the two of you entered.

"I just think that twenty-four bucks is too much for a little tube of lip balm. I think I'll just switch back to Carmex or Burts Bee's."

"Darlin' I'll buy it." Joel gave you a warm smile, "Let me spoil you."

"No way! You just bought me dinner!" You shake your head, thinking of your leftovers that sat in the backseat of his car.

"And now I wanna buy you a lip balm," Joel says taking it from your hands to put in the basket.

"Nope. We're not getting it." You say, pulling it from his hands and tossing it back on the shelf, "Let's leave."

Joel protests but lets you pull him from the store and back to the car.

Three days later...

Joel never liked shopping. He'd always been the kind of guy who bought the same shirt in multiple colors just because it made sense in his mind. Even when the company had taken off and he and Tommy were living comfortably instead of paycheck to paycheck, he hadn't really found an excuse to indulge and spend a lot of his hard-earned cash. Sure, he'd dropped a lot on a new car after his poor pickup truck had gotten rear-ended two years ago, damn teen drivers. Then, there was the new roof that his house needed last summer. But, both of those were easily paid off and Joel often found himself with a bank account higher than necessary.

It never bothered him, after all, it just meant retirement would come quicker, and if he ever had kids they'd have a lot of inheritance. Yes, Joel was happy living his simple lifestyle. Of course, that was until he met you...

You were just perfect in Joel's eyes. From the moment he saw you on that dating app Tommy had stuck on his phone, he'd known you were the one for him. Initially, he'd felt weird when he'd swiped on you, after all, you were so young compared to him. His fears though, they'd vanished the moment you started laughing at his lame jokes, adding your own even worse ones to the conversation. Yes, you were just perfect for him.

Now, it was December, the holiday season was in full swing and Joel found himself itching to spend some of that cash that'd been sitting in the bank for ages. He'd spent the last six months trying to keep the spending to a minimum, you always scolded him despite enjoying all of his gifts and he'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable. But after today when you'd put that little lip balm back on the shelf, he'd felt sad for you. Joel hadn't missed your small frown when it clattered back onto the display next to the others. You wanted that lip balm and, you were going to get that lip balm.

It was as if he was a man possessed. Three hours had passed since he'd walked into this mall and his arms were begging to feel a bit sore. Sure, he'd bought you the lip balm but before he knew it, he was wandering into all the other stores, looking for things that'd make you smile and cover his face in kisses. As he loaded the bags into the trunk a bit of worry crossed his mind. Had he gone overboard?

No, there definitely could be more...

December 25th, Christmas Morning at Joel Miller's

The warm scent of coffee had your eyes slowly pulling open. You groaned and pulled yourself out of bed, fumbling to pull Joel's shirt on before finding your discarded panties from last night. Whoever told you that older men needed Viagra to get it up clearly hadn't met Joel.

You padded down the steps to see Joel hunched over the stove, flipping pancakes while his beloved coffee maker brewed.

"Morning." You chirp, wrapping your arms around him, and resting your hands on his soft belly.

"Good morning." Joel's deep voice filled your ears

You greedily let your hands slip under the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Joel lets out a hum and scoots away from you.

"Keep that up and we won't be eating or opening gifts til noon."

You roll your eyes and go to pour him his coffee.

After a delicious breakfast, Joel pulled you into the living room where your jaw nearly met the floor. Last night when you'd passed out in bed after the third round, there had been six presents under the tree, three from him and three from you. Now there had to be over triple that.

"What did you do?" You ask, spinning around to face Joel.

"What? I'm not allowed to spoil you?" Joel asks, a boyish grin on his face.

"It's like you bought the whole damn store and put it in your living room." You point out

"Not the whole store, just some of it." Joel laughs

Nearly an hour later, you were sitting in a pile of wrapping paper and bows.

"Alright, last one," Joel says, pulling a small gift bag with a snowman on it out.

You sigh in fake exhaustion, "Hand it over, cowboy."

Joel snorts and hands you the bag which a moment later you find has the lip balm you'd put back the other day.

"Went back and bought it for ya. Got a little distracted though..." Joel smiles

"Oh, only a little? Is that why there's lingerie and a new pair of boots sitting in boxes next to me?" You laugh, "Not to mention you even bought me a new frying pan."

"Yeah, just a little sidetracked s' all," Joel says, looking at the many different things he'd found for you.

"Thank you, Joel." You smile earnestly, "It's your turn now."

"Why don't ya model this for me, darlin'?" Joel asks, pushing the red babydoll dress towards you

"But what about your presents?" You pout, "I put a lot of thought into the one with the green paper."

"Give me a fashion show, it can be part of the gift." Joel coerces.

"Ugh, you're lucky you're hot, Joel." You huff, scooping the fabric up and heading off to the bathroom.

Joel lets out a long whistle as you reenter the living room, "Well, would you look at that?"

"Pervert." You scoff as he pulls you into his lap

"Not allowed to appreciate my girl?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek

"You just wanted to see what my boobs looked like in red lace." You point out

Joel gives you a grin, busted.

"Nah, what makes you think that?"

Joel's lips capture yours and his hands secure themselves at your waist. Your resolve loosens as your hands curl against the soft skin of his chest.

"What about your presents?" You ask breathlessly when he pulls back

"Got everything I want right here." He says, "Let's go upstairs, this old man needs a bed if he's gonna fuck you silly."

Joel's hands are back on you the moment he kicks the bedroom door shut. His lips find yours again as his hands begin to pull the straps of your outfit off your shoulders.

Your back hits the mattress and one of Joel's big hands snakes down between your thighs.

"Still wet from last night." Joel laughs into the kiss

"Mmm, I think it was from earlier. Seeing you shirtless, cooking for me was hot." You admit

"Yeah? Y'like me cookin' for ya?" Joel asks

"Course, who wouldn't wanna see a hot old man cooking pancakes for them on Christmas?" You tease

Joel delivers a sharp slap to your inner thigh, "Not that old, darlin'."

"Sure you aren't."

You push at his shoulders and straddle him, loving the way his hands gently rest on your thighs.

You hum in delight as his hips lift and he pulls his pants off, finally exposing the rest of his body to your greedy eyes. Joel's lips ghost over your nipples, teasing them with his tongue as he lifts you up so he's notched at your entrance. Eager, you move to push him in but he stops you.

"What do ya say, baby?" Joel teases

"C'mon Joel..." You groan, "I want it."

"Ask nicely then," he clicks his tongue, "Go on,"

You huff a small breath of frustration and Joel's hands squeeze your hips.

"Please," You mumble

"What was that? This old man needs some help hearin' ya." Joel prods

"Please, fuck me, Joel." You groan, wiggling your hips as the head of his cock teases your hole.

"S' what I wanted to hear," Joel says, pressing a wet kiss to your neck

Joel's loud groan mingles with your girlish one as he lets you go to take him in. Your mind goes blank as your hips begin to rock. Joel's hands roam your body as he pinches and teases the sensitive flesh of your chest.

"C'mon girlie, give it to me." He encourages

"I'm trying." You huff, the feel of your burning thighs was slowing you down

A loud slap rings out followed by a yelp from your mouth. Joel's big hand rubs at the reddened mark on your soft skin.

"Don't worry, I gotcha, sweetheart, let me."

Your world turns as Joel lays you back down on the soft mattress, pushing your knees to your chest you're practically folded in half as he pushes in again.

"Fuck me..." Joel groans in pleasure above you.

"Already am." You laugh breathlessly

Joel shakes his head but you see the smile playing on his lips.

Rough thrusts steal your breath away as Joel begins moving his hips in earnest. The softness of his belly meets yours as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours. A hand pushes into the middle of your shared mess and a finger toys with your clit. A whimper escapes your lips as Joel groans when you tighten around him.

"Gonna let me come inside ya hmm? It'd be the perfect Christmas gift for me darlin'..."

Your brain is mush as Joel's finger plays with you while his cock relentlessly slams into you. Your stomach tightens as he continues.

"I-I'm gonna-"

"C'mon let it out, soak my fucking cock." Joel commands

As if he's magic your body yields to him and you come. A strangled groan leaves Joel's lips while your eyes slam shut.

"Good girl." Joel coos down at you, his hips never slowing.

"Joel!" You gasp, the pain of overstimulation beginning to ebb at your brain.

Joel lets out a soft moan of his own, his brow furred in concentration.

"Where?" He asks

"I-Inside" You gasp

Joel smirks, "Yeah? Gonna take it like a good girl? Let me knock ya up, pop out a brat for me in nine months?"

"Yes!" Your hips arch off the bed when his hand comes down to grind at your clit.

Joel's hips stutter against you and a loud moan escapes him as he fills you. Gentle thrusts follow as he comes down, dropping your legs as he does.

Joel flops down beside you on the bed, his chest heaves a bit as the two of you catch your breath.

"Y'okay?"

"Always." You say looking over at him with a dopey grin on your face

"Wanna go finish those pancakes?" Joel asks

You laugh, Joel was such a typical guy, thinking with his stomach, "You just fucked me and threatened to knock me up but your first thought is pancakes?"

"Well, I was gonna get a washcloth and clean ya up first, if that matters," Joel says

"Wow, what a gentleman." You scoff

"Glad you think so." Joel mumbles

You lay next to him in silence, listening to his breathing and watching his eyes flutter shut in satisfaction.

"What if we did?" You ask

"Did what?" Joel asks looking at you, "If you're talking about round two, I'll need a few more minutes, I'm not twenty anymore."

You slap his shoulder and roll onto your belly, "No, perv. I meant a baby. You were just talking about getting me pregnant."

Joel looks over at you like you've lost your mind, "Are you being serious right now?"

"Totally. You don't want a mini us running around?" You ask hopefully

"Course I do baby, didn't ever think a pretty young thing like you would want that with me though," Joel admits, pulling you towards him so you're resting partially on top of him

"Really Joel?" You scoff, "You're like the hottest guy in the world."

"Now you're just buttering me up." He laughs his head hitting the pillows behind him

"I'm serious!" You smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips

Soft silence flutters around you as you watch the gears turn in his mind.

"Gonna have to marry you if you start popping my kids out." Joel grins

"Of course," You laugh, "You think I'm gonna go into labor without a ring on my hand?"

Joel's nose brushes yours as he leans a bit closer to your face, practically breathing in your scent. His hand grasps yours where it rests on his chest.

"Guess I gotta start looking at jewelry then, darlin'. You're gonna have the prettiest ring in all of Texas."

"Ugh, there you go again, plotting to spend way too much money on me again." You groan in embarrassment.

Joel leans in and steals a kiss from you, the taste of pancakes and syrup lingers on his tongue as he does.

"Gotta humor me here," He smiles into the kiss, "Let me buy you presents, baby."

Consider this a mini-rant against the people behind the prices at Sephora. I'm looking at you Summer Fridays...

Want more Joel? Check out my series All Too Well.

[r-aindr0p]

you spoke about glomas ruggie and that took my mind to glomas jamil in my head, lmao. mmm, i see him as another vampire hunter, but not as an active member of the church... besides naga, pls that no😭 do you see jamil as any other creature to fight?

Alright so ! I finally organized the characters + roles etc...

You already know the main guys of the au so they're not in this mess of scribbles :') I don't have precise dynamics fixed but I want to keep the Vampirook/Rollo the main focus (it's my main brainrot of the moment after all) Might idk... put all the names in a hat and randomly pick two out and figure it out Three more vampires because they're the main menace (supposedly) I wanted Riddle to be a vampire because go ham lil man !! Hell yeah !! Sebek as a vampire made sense too he naturally has feral creature energy (usually hangs with either malleus and silver or riddle) And of course Idia, absolutely eating rats because he can't possibly imagine himself approach anyone to feed, nuh-uh. Pathetic and even more creature than he already is... (There's a weird man offering potions to him though, but in exchange of money. So he does snatch some coins here and there sometimes.) Made Malleus a devil because I wanted to keep the horns (a hornless malleus might as well be bald at this point) He does his things by himself and joins the other mieschief makers when it looks fun :)) Jamil is a vouivre (not really a snake or dragon, not really a wyvern either, semi aquatic creature) He used to guard a huge treasure vault belonging to a powerful and rich family but fuck that shit he's out. Now living his life by himself in peace (or he thought). The ruby is the only thing he kept from his past and is very attached to it. (some might try to snatch it though, yknow... could be sold for a lot of money...) Chose to make Silver the incubus because look at those mesmerizing eyes and that aura... He does feed by sleeping with others.... literally. You'll sleep the worst nap of your life while he peacefully snoozes using you as a pillow. And you will wake up even more tired, needing at least a week to recover. (insomniacs are not deemed nutritious) And Azul ahh Azul, he's a thorn in your side and a helpful asset at the same time. Strangely always here when you have troubles to be solved... Need a potion ? The location of a creature perhaps ? Substitutes foods ? Spell parchment ? Maybe you're finally down to sign a pact with him ? :))) The man is too annoying to be fully acknowledged by anyone but infuriatingly too handy to be taken out. Church guys !!! Epel mainly joined the hunting squad to be able to wield weapons and be cool as heck. Morning star is his favorite weapon though. Sells baked goods at the end of the morning masses, it works pretty well ! Deuce is the newest member and is being taught the basics by Ruggie and Epel, he's also helping around the church in general and is doing his best !!! (he spilled the red wine on the white altar cloth) Ruggie has been here for a while now. Being a hunter pays well and he actually helps around a lot and prepares meals for those in need. And yeah yeah stealing is bad but when evil creatures are full of riches it's alright to snatch a bit of it, right ??

[venmondiese]

COME TO ME, ANGEL OF MUSIC

‎‎masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏ| summary: On a costume party, you meet Aemond, a strange man who seems to lurke your thoughts. Soon enough, you'll find he is more than what he seems.

✧| Pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

✧| word count: 4.2k

✧| Warnings: MDNI 18+, possible dub-con, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), Aemond is very weird, and this contains dark contents.

-ˋˏslightly based on the phantom of the opera + my contribution to halloween

You wish you knew how you ended up in a rich party, honestly. It was a costume party, and everyone had rich costumes. You went for a classic one; Christine from Phantom of the Opera.  Your friend was dating the younger son of this family, throwing a party in the whole damn state they had, as if it was some kind of Saltburn. You didn’t comply when she dragged you to ‘meet one of his rich friends so you and him can be together’ because honestly you had nothing better to do.

Seeing people do heroin and ecstasy was not your style, so you separated from your friend soon enough, as she told you her boyfriend and her would spend quite some time on that. She had promised to invite one of your childhood friends (and crush); Ben. Even if it had been ages, you still thought about the chance to meet him. 

Dancing on the dance floor was something else. They didn’t play some of the usual party songs played on discos or bars. It was somehow more refined, but it didn't stop you from dancing.  You danced with some dudes; with a mummy, with Beetle juice, with Pennywise and even with the typical one dressed as the Joker. You made out with them a bit, but soon enough you pulled away.

Once you were sweating through your costume, you went to the backyard, seeing all the stairs you had to get down to touch the grass. Instead, you walked to the chairs in the balcony and stayed there. 

“I lost my… fucking piercing…” you murmur, feeling your face and not feeling your nose ring. Did you even…?

“Hello, didn’t expect you here” 

You turn to see the voice by your side. It was dark, or perhaps you weren’t using your glasses, but you could swear there wasn’t a man there. 

“Hey” you murmur softly. 

“Who are you supposed to be?” He asks softly, smoking his cigarette as he was against the wall. 

You weren’t one for small talk, truly. But here you were.

“Christine Daaé” you tell him softly looking at him.

“Hm.”

“From the phantom of the opera”

“I know, it is rather obvious coming from you” he says softly, another puff as he speaks. 

You frown slightly, confused by his words. What was he on? Maybe your face is familiar with someone he knows. You are sure you know him. He is oddly familiar as well, and you definitely couldn't shake the feeling of knowing him. He was like a distant, misty memory, as if from a dream.

“And who are you?” 

“Nosferatu” 

You take a moment to watch his costume, seeing the formal clothes he used. He had long silver hair, and it looked silky and it was very eye-catching. As you saw more and more of him, as the dim lights from the garden gave him a sombre aura. His skin was pale, not rosy-like pale, but straight out white, cold tones. He had a purple eye, and he wore an eye patch to the other.

“I Thought Nosferatu was bald”

“I thought Christine Daaé could sing.” 

“You surely wear tons of makeup” 

“You should see my brother” he says, looking at you “He came as Edward Cullen, Tons of glitter”

You chuckle “I can see it”

He was handsome, leaning on the wall as he inspected you. Gave you goose bumps, that, and the cold air too. 

“What’s your brother’s name?” You ask softly, looking at him as the skirt of your costume had been caught on some leaves.

“Aegon” he says, as if testing your knowledge on the name.

“And yours?” You ask, smoothly. You wanted to know his, in truth, and he smirked as he puffed on his cigarette.

“Aemond” he says softly, looking at you. “Yours?”

You tell him your name, and he hums watching over you. There is something about the way he looks at you, making your skin have goose bumps and you turn slightly more conscious about yourself. He was intimidating, yet at the same time, you were attracted to him as moths are to light. 

“You fit the costume” he says, puffing on his cigarette again. 

“It is my favourite costume. I found a white corset, and a white puffy dress. I did the star pattern on it, and it took me a while to style my hair.” 

“Hm. I see.” his voice is sultry, watching you closely. 

“I have seen the Phantom of the Opera since I was a child. I love it” you admit with a smile “Seen it like a hundred times. I doubt there is someone who has seen it more than I”

He raises an eyebrow at your nerdiness, yet he shrugs, throwing his cigarette on the floor to stomp on it. His shoes had dragon patterns on them, and looked as if they had never been worn. 

“I doubt it” he says smugly, moving to sit in another chair next. One of his legs lazily going above the other as he leaned back. “I have seen it for years and years”

You roll your eyes amused, as if he was trying to fight who was nerdier. “Yeah, right”

“I mean it. They always play it in the theatre” he says, looking at your face as if trying to see your reaction. He isn’t very expressive, you notice, as his face almost doesn’t move as he speaks. 

“And so you happen to visit the theatre always?”

“Well, in fact I do.” He shrugs, moving to take another cigarette out of his pocket, to lighten it up. You roll your eyes as if you don’t believe him. “I own the place.”

It is a moment of silence, as you watch him brag about it. Men and their audacity. He was extremely rude, apart from off-putting. And he was arrogant, you knew an arrogant man when you saw one, how his chin is titled up, as if looking down at you. 

“Yeah, right”

“I mean it” He says, surely. 

“Are you rich?” You say in disbelief, not believing one word of what he was saying. 

“I live some states away” He says, referring to the mansions. “It’s older than the damn country”

“I do not believe you one bit”

“Don’t” he shrugs nonchalantly, his face barely changing as he takes another puff. “You could have had free entry to see the phantom of the opera every night” 

You narrowed your eyes to his words, you do not believe him. How rich can you be to own one of these houses AND own a theatre? Makes 0 sense in your middle class mind. Yet, Aemond, for some reason, is different. You cannot explain it… and it bugs you. Yet you are curious as a cat. 

“Okay, Mr. Billionaire” You say mockingly, leaning closer as you watch his face. “If you do own that, you must be an aristocrat” you point out, seeing how his eyebrows raise and he nods slightly.

“Yeah”

“So your family has been around for centuries?”

He nods, and he says “Yeah, more than centuries”

“Every dynasty falls, you know. Sooner or Later” 

“Or they evolve” He says, taking another puff. He has a calm way to speak, almost sultry. He speaks as if he had all the right opinions on the world, and doesn’t leave room to question him.

Aemond was handsome, perhaps too handsome. Though the white makeup was too much (and you can imagine how full of glitter his brother should be), he has a mystery surrounding him. He was a billionaire, yet he doesn’t tell you his family name, which doesn’t surprise you, since rich people are full of fake friends. You doubted that half of the people in this mansion even knew the hosts personally. And Aemond seems the calm type, stoic, silent and observant. You can notice it just by the way he stares at you, no expression on his face, not even boredom. 

“And you are friends with …” You ask, moving a hand to point at the castle. 

“My brother is more social than I am” his tone is quiet. 

“And he dragged you here?”

“I dragged myself here” he says. Even if he is very expressionless, you were getting tired of him.

You didn’t even notice how awkward the whole conversation was. He was so clearly uninterested in you, only bragged about his luxuries and spoke in a condescending tone. You were confused, no doubts. The alcohol had been too much.

“I will go to the dance floor then…, Aemond” you say standing up, and he doesn’t do the courtesy to look interested. 

As you leave, you just try to sneak away from his little corner, and you try to find your friend. The meeting with Aemond left you a sour taste in your mouth, no doubts. Lisa was certainly more of a social butterfly, and if she was next to her boyfriend she would probably be like his trophy, anyways. 

You walked through the corridors, and tried to check your phone. It was almost one in the morning, 00:58. You sighed, checking your messages as you tried to stay against the wall; the music was loud enough to drive you insane.

Where are u??? Ben is here…

You cursed yourself, muttering a great deal of insults as you answered, asking where the hell she was with Ben. You came with a purpose, and you certainly couldn’t leave without it. 

Ben was handsome, and his blonde hair fell from his face as he was dressed as some superhero you didn’t recognise. Yet he was lean, and handsome as hell. He has some beard, not too rusty, but you liked it, suited him well. It reminded you of his dad, no doubts. 

“Ben” you say smiling

“Oh, look at you” he says, standing up to hug you. “It has been ages!”

“Too long” You say smiling, hugging him back. “How have you been? I mean… What have you been up to?” It was almost impossible not to want to ask Ben about all the amazing things he must have been up to. 

Between chatting, drinking and dancing, it’s nearly three am when you are still dancing on him in the dance floor.  It was less crowded than before, yet it still was hot as hell. You were sweating slightly, and still with Ben, dancing together and having so much fun.

“Hey, Christine” 

You turn a bit confused. Oh, it was this guy. The Nosferatu guy, Aemond.

“Hey” You say to him, cringing a bit. His expressionless face looked from you to Ben, who stopped to dance to introduce himself. “Ben, this is Aemond… Aemond, Ben”

Whereas Ben extended his hand with a smile, Aemond watched him with a hum, acknowledging him with a raise of eyebrows. You wanted to die, he was so fucking rude and hard to swallow, and you didn’t even know why he was bothering you.

“You are friends?”

You try to answer, yet you find yourself mumbling nonsense as your cheeks get red slightly from shame. It is Aemond who answers.

“Yeah. Long acquaintances” he says, and his face finally changes. His lips curled in a smirk, his arms crossed on his chest as he was very much interested in Ben now.  “Isn’t it right?”

You look at him, and then at Ben, blinking a bit confused. “Yeah, we know each other… and we are so close” 

“Oh, I see. Didn’t mention that” He says, his smile confused as he looks at you. 

“Well, I didn’t remember” you say, a bit confused, frowning. 

Where did you exactly meet Aemond? 

“Ouch” Aemond says, looking at you. His voice still cold, and detached “Didn’t you tell him all the times we have gone to see the Phantom of the Opera?”

It takes you a bit to speak. “Yeah, tons of times… Aemond owns a theatre, and they play it all the time.”

Ben looks at you a bit confused. His hand is on the small of your back, and still close to you. 

“Maybe you could come with us” you babble, words out of your mouth hastily. “I’d like you to” you add, words you like to say finally coming out of your mouth.

“Sure thing” Ben says smiling, giving you a reassuring nod. 

“We could arrange it for the next season. Now it is all about more new musicals” Aemond says shrugging “Even if the Phantom of the Opera is quite new, still”

“It’s old as fuck, dude” Ben laughs it out, but his laugh is met with no response. 

You looked at him, eyes wide. You found it funny, why didn’t you laugh? 

“Either way…” Aemond says, his tone unwavering as always. “We have to leave, darling”

It is then when you look at Aemond again. You were attracted to him like a moth is to light, and he was like a drug. He was handsome, tall and definitely hot. He made you feel alive. 

Yet you didn’t want to leave Ben. Why would you? Lisa had especially invited him for this purpose, to get you two together, to reconnect and with some luck, hook up. Even if you weren’t the type to hook up with guys you have met the same day, unlike Lisa. She joked that maybe Ben was worth the exception. 

“Wait, I thought we were staying…?” Ben says, confused, since Lisa’s boyfriend had no problem in lending one of the guest rooms to you two. 

“No” you say, almost automatically. 

“Come on” Aemond says, pulling you away from Ben, grabbing your elbow with a self-sufficient smirk. 

His touch was cold, unwelcoming and uncaring. Even with that, you followed his lead out of the mansion, not caring to wave goodbye to Ben. 

It is when he opens his old car, probably expensive as hell, when you ask him. “Where are we going?”

He smiles “Oh, my darling. We are going to my state”

Your mind has problems remembering how you two exactly arrived at his state. You have had too much alcohol, either way. 

And as you went away from the party, you started to ask yourself more things. Why did you ignore Ben? You were an ass to him, and you didn’t care about it. But in truth, you did, and you felt awful about it. 

It made zero sense; you couldn’t understand your change of heart. As if sorcery was inflicted upon you, or mind control. When you take out your phone, to send him a message, to apologise, and to also tell Lisa where you are, you find yourself with no signal at all. You barely had any battery on it too.

“Do not bother” Aemond’s cold tone comes as he drives. The car was so old, the gearshift was like a lever next to the steering wheel. Damn, this shit didn’t even have a radio. “There is no signal around here”

“No technology either…” you murmur between your teeth, and try to look out in the darkness of the night. It was all mist, from miles and miles in the field. 

“Do not worry yourself” He says, and with that, you shut up. 

Your walk is almost automatic, following his lead into his house. It was a mansion, more like a Victorian one. Maybe even older, this truly seems like centuries old. You couldn’t imagine how old his dynasty was to inherit something like this. 

Aemond could be as sultry as he was cold, because soon enough you were on his bed, sitting as he talked softly, about your appearance or how perfect you were. You truly didn’t take a look around his home, or his room. Surely, there were a lot of stairs, and a lot of floors. But you only cared for Aemond.

“Dressing up like Christine, hm? Suits you” He murmurs, his hands cupping your face as if you were dear to him, yet there was no tenderness in his tone, only that detachment you despised. 

“Hm” it was all you could say. 

“So perfect for me. I knew I was right on you”

His lips devour yours as he kisses you, and you can do anything but return his kisses, perhaps not with the same fervour, but still you are a bit enthusiastic with that. 

If he was cold, he made it up by being addicted. Kissing him was addictive, and the taste of it was making you lean closer and closer to him. And it was as if he thought the same about you, by the way he was acting the same, if not more desperate. 

You feel his kisses travel down, as his hands lower down to move the skirt of your dress, feeling your bare legs and going upwards. His face nuzzles your neck, and you can feel how he leaves hickeys, bites and wet kisses on the skin. 

He was insane with lust, like an animal as he pressed kisses on your collarbone, pulling you back in his bed. Kissing Aemond was like being in heaven; you could barely feel your own body. 

“You are perfect” He murmurs “No need to be nervous” his tone is sultry, almost too enchanting for you. 

You weren’t even nervous, to be honest. Your heart was racing like crazy, and your hands were sweating. Still, you didn’t feel nervous. 

“I’m not” you murmur softly. 

“You are” he says, his eyes turning to look at you. “I know it. You can’t hide anything from me”

As his hands move to take off your clothes, and his mouth relishes on your breasts, clavicle and neck, you start to wonder. Was he stalking you? You remember him too dizzily to connect dots, but he was starting to… 

Scare you. Arouse you. You weren’t even sure.

Aemond was especially good with his mouth; his kisses pressed lower and lower as his hands caressed your thighs softly, looking up at you. 

“I’ll make you feel better” he promises, his tone sounds ever sweeter. “I know what to do to cure you”

If the remark was oddly strange, he doesn’t give you a moment to think about it, as his mouth goes to your cunt, his tongue moving expertly along your folds to taste you, like a man starved does. He was, in a way, starved. You could see it in his gaze, looking up to you to see your reactions and if trying to see right across your soul. 

He accommodates your thighs on his shoulders, as if hugging your back to press you further to his face, and mouth. He was groaning on it, delighting himself in your taste, as you could only whimper and see with half lidded eyes, biting your lower lip as you feel your head starting to drop back in delight.

His mansion was cold, and Aemond was even colder, yet everywhere he touched, felt warm. It was magnificently paradoxical, yet it made every sense in your head. If you could form a logical thought, that would be, because when Aemond touched you it was as if your brain melted completely, being nothing as he touched your body.

“Will you let me?” He asks, his mouth and chin shiny from your arousal, gods, you were leaking wet. You haven’t noticed until now, you were really wet. And he only seems to be happy about it. 

He glances up at your face, watching you closely with his careful eye. You were right on his mercy, and he liked it. He could tell that you were loving it, the way he gives you attention and takes care of you, and yet he isn’t pleased when you nod as a way to answer him “I want you to say it out loud”

“Yes” you say, your breath almost stuck in your throat as you speak, nodding. Your cheeks were red, and you could feel your blood going everywhere in your body, especially where he had touched you, and kissed you.

“You are all mine, hm?” He says, seeing the hickeys on your neck and legs. 

His cock was hard, and he was as excited as you were to have you. You didn’t quite get what he was after, sex? Taking care of you? An odd, distorted and sick pleasure of… doing what he does? You couldn’t get it. 

He doesn’t use protection, and you also don’t try to ask about it. You just don’t care about it, you want him. You need him. You craved him. 

Aemond hiss when he enters you. Your pussy is warm, wet and welcoming to his cock. Seeing you in display to him, moaning as his cock starts filling you is too much for him. It’s too overwhelming, and he has to curse out loud, moving to grab your thighs to pull you closer, your body moving as if you were a ragdoll. 

“Fuck, princess. That’s it” he mutters, his hips going back, before harshly going forward, starting to pound into you as if he was a feral animal, grunting and groaning, 

Your body welcomes his harshness, feeling his cock pound again and again against all your sensitive spots. He knows what he was doing, surely, and he knew how to please his partner in bed. His dick slides effortlessly into her cunt, you could feel his balls slapping against your skin. 

“Aemond” you moan is more like a whine, the same tone wounded animals used emit when in pain. Oddly enough, that turns him on more. 

“That’s it” He murmurs, his hips being harsh as he thrusted, and you could only imagine how much it would hurt to stand up next morning. "Sing for me...."

Aemond reaches with his hand to find your clit. Most men would be blind, but Aemond had experience. His wet fingers rub your clit, as he made sure his thrusts were overwhelming enough to have you made a mess for him. Moaning loudly, he feels your legs shaking a bit as he leans to whisper in your ear.

“Come for me” His tone is many things, a plea, an order, a fact.  "Come to me"

You didn’t know how, but he knew. You were coming hard, as you felt his cock deep inside and his wet kisses all over. It was intense, and he had you all disoriented. Maybe you squirted, maybe he came right with you, and maybe he came inside you. But the truth? You didn’t care. 

You fell asleep soon after, almost unconscious from such a night. Alcohol, crazy sex, and going to a stranger’s home. 

It all hits you by the morning. 

If you could call that a morning, honestly. You wake up, in the silk bed sheets, feeling colder than ever, and naked. You turned around, and everything was dark, as if it was night. The tall, heavy curtains in the windows were old enough to be thick, and not let a single ray of sunshine inside. Yet, it was badly closed, because one ray hit right in your neck, and in your left eye, waking you up. 

You don’t know how long you have slept, as you stand up. You feel panicked, because you went home with a stranger. And then you start remembering. Leaving without telling Lisa, leaving Ben just because Aemond said so, and you were stupid enough to follow him.

And you had sex with him. You can feel your body aching from how feral he was with you, and you sit up in bed, whining, as your whole body is sore and burning you.

You check your thighs, red and lots of bruises there. And your stomach, and your forearms. You stand up carefully, moving closer to the window you had seen in the hallway, not minding your nakedness, or who might see you wander around. 

You are more worried by the blood coming out your neck. You see yourself in the mirror; your neck has dry blood, bruises and hickeys. Your face? Intact. But your neck and collarbone were… destroyed. Your breasts are saved, just a little bit, bitten and full of hickeys, but no blood there.

You try to move the dry blood, trying to see what you were injured. You didn’t hear a sound in the house; it was dark, and quiet. The most light that entered was from a skylight in the stairs, which seemed to be endless.

You see two dots, deep and scarlet in your neck. And another pair, and another. You had to check more than twice to try to make it sense. Aemond had bitten you. It was all Aemond.

“I see you have woken up” He murmurs, leaning on the hallway, with a cup of tea, and some cookies. 

You turn to look at him, and you regret not having something to cover yourself with.

“You are a monster” You say, turning back to the room, to try and go find your clothes and your phone. “Biting me like a… a… a vampire” you say, just to test the waters. Hells, you didn’t even believe he was a vampire.

Aemond chuckles, following right behind you as he leaves the tray in the cabinet. He looks at you, covering the door unconsciously, as he crosses his arms. “So you figured it out then” he says. “I thought it would take you less”

“You… drugged me”

“No” He says, crossing his arms, offended. “I did not need to.”

He was attractive, but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t his charm, and how handsome he was. Of course, you think, being an idiot. You had seen twilight a million times, and you felt like Bella when she discovered the same about Edward. 

“Vampires aren’t real” You remind him, putting on your clothes. They were dirty, yet you just wanted to get out of there. Gods, you were an idiot. An idiot. And you didn’t even know what you would tell Lisa, or Ben, or your parents…

“Aren’t they, really?” He asks, almost mockingly. “And where are you going, darling?” He asks amused, seeing you grab your purse and pull your clothes fast as day. It took you a bit to close the corset of the dress, but whatever. 

“Away” you mutter, which causes him to laugh.

The only, genuine and loud laugh you have heard him do. Maybe the most genuine he has ever been in the time you have meet him.

“You are adorable, my sweet” he says, his tone as detached even with his amusement. “I thought it was clear. You are not going anywhere”

You look at him, as if confused. He wasn’t a vampire, it was ridiculous. It felt like a crappy movie that they passed through forgotten channels. 

“Yeah, right” you say, passing through him and going into the hallway. “I am leaving” you tell him, trying to look brave, as you try to decipher the fucking mansion. 

“You are scared as a kitten” Aemond says, more amused than anything “Your heart is beating like crazy, darling”

“Whatever!” You scream, finding some stairs and going down. 

“And how will you ever leave? The closest town is far away for leaving on foot.”

“I’ll call a tab” you say, stubbornly, taking out your phone. 

Seriously? 11%? You sighed. Aemond didn’t stop you, but let you figure it on your own. There was no signal here.

If you go, with how cold it was, you were going to die of hypothermia. And going out without a map, without a direction, you will be also dead, if not found by him. You really, really were trapped. You had to think of something else, surely, but not now…

“I see your pretty head has figured it out” Aemond says, from top of the stairs. “Now, will you take the cookies and tea I had you? I bought them just for you” he says, almost annoyed. “I can’t let my pet starve”

That was what he wanted you for. If he was a vampire, he needed blood. And he had his fill, and he had his next meal. It was you; he wanted you as food, and to fuck. 

"I want my pretty angel to keep on singing for me" his tone is deep, smiling, as he teases you with those words. "My angel of music"

You want him to shut up, but at the same time, you don't.

You remember, for a moment, when he bites you with his fangs. You had thought it was with the costume, but he didn’t dress up. He surely invented he was Nosferatu, and you believed it like a fool. Those fangs weren’t fake, and they dig into your neck to draw blood from you, multiple times. 

It was painful, and it stung like a bitch. You didn’t want him to feed on you.

"You have come here with one purpose and one alone" he says, as he lure you into his whims "I have needed you with me... to serve me. "

Yet when you see him smile, guiding you to eat, you feel calm, even if your mind knew he was using his dirty tricks on you, just like before. He seduced you, into his will. And gods, if you didn’t feel like you wanted just that: be his forever. To feed, to fuck, to devour. 

It was surely going to drive you insane one day, yet you had to get used to it. It didn’t seem as if you were going to be out anytime soon. 

[kisses4reid]

convenient pt. 2 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 1 (you cannot read part 2 with no context).

summary - he totally just cares if you pass your exams, nothing else. there is no other reason he keeps coming back to your convenience store.

genre - fluff, fem!college!reader x early season!spencer

warnings - school work, incorrect science stuff bc i’m just a girl

a/n - thank you all for the love on the first part!!! it was so surprising, especially since it was the first fic i’ve uploaded on this blog, i love y’all so much 🫶 thank you to those who suggested to make this a series, i would’ve totally made this a oneshot if not for y’all.

“you got any plans tonight spencer?”, morgan asked, taking his jacket off the back of his chair, passing spencer’s clean desk.

“uh, yeah actually.”

“really?” morgan stopped beside him, looking over his shoulder, a smirk crawling up, “with who?”

“moby dick.” spencer lied, morgan rolled his eyes.

“you’re no fun man.”

the doorbell rang, but after not seeing a certain skinny man for two nights, you’re mind starting to reset into the ‘studying grind mode’ it had been on before meeting spencer. stop thinking about spencer, keep studying.

three ladies dressed in short skirts, a white man with dreads (yikes), and a boy around 8 years old checked out with various items before a 3 minute cannelloni, bag of coffee, and an apple landed in front of you. before you could look up he spoke,

“how did your assignment go?” you jumped in your seat, nearly punching the man in the face before you placed a hand over your heart and sighed,

“good lord, you need to learn how to walk louder.”

spencer grinned. you scanned the cannelloni, he glanced at your hand still over your heart.

“rubatosis.”

“bless you?”

“the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.” you glanced up and saw him looking at your hand with a thin lipped awkward smile. you quickly put your hand down and continued scanning, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“we all know words. like… vellichor.” you spoke, packing his things in the same plastic bag he brought just little of a week ago. he tilted his head,

“the love of used bookstores?”

“i saw old books in your car.”

“you were looking in my car?” he put his hands in his pockets, as he looked out the window to his parked vehicle, not planning to pick up his bag of ‘groceries’ anytime soon. only then did you notice his tie was askew, his hair a little disheveled, his eyes a little sunken. the doorbell rung, a middle-aged balding man walking in behind spencer.

“i’m observant. $12.98.” he whipped out a slim wallet from his back pocket, flicking through some notes to pull out a $20. you ruffled through the register for his change as he remarked,

“you didn’t even look at the register.”

“don’t need to, you’re predictable.” you reply with a sneaky smile, causing spencer to copy reluctantly.

there was an awkward cough from behind him, the middle-aged man. spencer turned back to you after realising that he was in fact in a convenience store, and you were in fact the only worker there. “sorry sir, um. bye.” he took his bag, the thin lipped smile becoming nearly as predictable as his late-night groceries.

“bye.”

the tall, awkward, superbly smart man who smelt like wood didn’t show up for 5 nights. you thought there were only three possibilities at his absence: sickness, death, or he’s learnt how to cook.

you thought the next time you saw him you would ask more about him. in between studying, classes, and working, there wasn’t much time for a social life in your day to day. or maybe you wouldn’t. maybe he wasn’t showing up because he wasn’t really a regular, just a guy who needed quick meals, coffee, and apples on those specific nights. that’s insane, you are insane, get back to studying.

you almost didn’t recognise him the next night. same clothes, same height, same cologne, different face. dark circles under his eyes, permanent lines between his eyebrows, and a purple bruise on his left cheek. it was silent, he was the only customer at 11:30pm. you both made eye contact while you scanned his items, (same things plus a travel first aid kit) silently observing his expectant expression before you broke the silence.

“i’m not going to ask.”

“i got hit with the butt of a gun.” he said matter of factly.

you halted, coffee bag in hand, and stared at him, squinting. “…okay. actually i am gonna ask. who would hit a librarian with the butt of a gun?”

he scrunched his eyebrows and tilted his head, blinking, “i’m not a librarian. why do you think i’m a librarian?”

you packed his things, “smart, dressed posh, just general mysterious good looking librarian vibe,” he handed you a $20, “you remind me of a pipe cleaner with eyes.”

he raised an eyebrow, breaking eye contact, “not the first time i’ve heard that.”

you laughed, thinking it was a joke. his shoulders relaxed, the lines between his eyebrows softening. he grabbed his things, “bye, y/n.”

“bye, spencer.”

you were so close to finding out more about him. how the hell does a man that looks like that get into so much trouble?

you finish your shift, packing your textbooks and now flat laptop, locking everything up and turning the lights off. it was 1am. and, spencer was asleep in his car.

you looked around and put your jacket around your shoulders before jogging up to his driver’s window. his head was lulled to one side, mouth closed, chest rising softly. you knocked, and suddenly he was wide-eyed and searching for something.

“spencer? what are you still doing here?” you speak just loud enough for him to hear behind the window, which he promptly put down. you had a split second realisation how crazy this was. checking in on a regular, watching a regular sleep, feeling safe enough to approach a man’s car just because he buys the same thing every night he comes to the convenience store.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to fall asleep. i- uh,” he wiped his face, “sorry.”

you look at him with concern, “it’s okay, just.. try not to look like you were waiting for me to finish my shift to kidnap me next time, okay?”

he sighed and nodded. waving goodbye, you started down the street, your apartment only being a block away. over the music now playing in your ears, you heard a car drive away, mixing with your confused thoughts about who this regular really is and what he does for a living. and how does he look that good.

he was back the next night, same black slacks, with a purple sweater a shade darker than your own.

“hey spencer, before i scan your 3 minute bolognese, coffee and bag of apples-“

“how did you get that perfectly-“

“i’m going to ask this and you’re going to answer, okay?”

you know nothing about this man, but talking to him like a good friend felt natural now. though, you still tried to avoid over stepping it.

“-though you don’t actually have to answer it. you are a customer and i can’t force customers to do anything but- seeing as though you know i’m a college student and that i work at this convenience store and that i sort of suck at biology- sorry i’m rambling,” you take a breath, “where do you work?” you finish, spencer smiling slightly. you were surprised he didn’t cut you off to stop you, like everyone else did. he didn’t answer at first, the squeak of your shoe against the floor displayed your anxious tell.

“i can’t tell you.”

you sighed, rolling your eyes and packing his stuff, he already had a $20 ready in his hand. you took it, fingers brushing slightly against his. “you suck, and your so suspicious. i should just call security.”

he looked around, fiddling his fingers together, “you don’t have security.”

you pointed to a dead cockroach outside underneath the warm street light. “yes we do. why do you think he’s twitching? he’s insane, he’ll hurt you.”

he chuckled, the sound bringing a shade of pink to your cheeks. “you don’t work on weekends.”

you squinted, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and maybe a bit of fear. “what.”

“i came in on a weekend and a man was here.” he explained as you nodded.

“yeah, no i don’t. why?”

spencer gulped, taking his bag, and smiling awkwardly, “nothing, bye!”

you waved, confused. also stressed, you hadn’t worked on your psychology assignment while waiting for him to show up.

pt. 3

taglist- @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @wannabewolf @evysian @trashmonstersara

[swee7dream]

hiii i saw that request are open for jae ( I CANNOT COPE WITH THE NEWS) so i was thinking if you could write about a fluff kind or drabble?!?! of maybe yn helping jae to cut his hair before enlisting but he has so much hair and like WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO LEAVE YOUR FLUFFY BIG HEAD BF BALD but yea kinda like cute couple-y moment?

military wife duties jeong jaehyun x female!reader

genres established relationship , fluff , angst if u squint warnings female reader , mention of enlistment (◞‸◟；) author's note when nahyuck enlist i will genuinely crash out like i will need to be put under watch dpwm . tysm for the request ! i will miss valentine boy so bad , , tag list @aeriaeri @mystarsohee @iwontlettheselittlethingsslip

“How could you do this to me? To us? I… I thought you loved me, Jaehyun. Does all our time together mean nothing to you?”

“Baby…” He holds your wrists, the sensation barely felt. “It’s just hair.”

“It’s not just hair!” you whimper, lip quivering. “Hair holds memories, Jae. You don’t get it.”

“Believe me, I do. I’m not excited to get my hair buzzed either.”

Your tears, hysterical and warm, Jaehyun’s dimples come out at the sight without even thinking about it.

“Please don’t make me do this.” Your lip quivers.

“I’m sorry, darling.” He pouts, but you can tell it’s ingenuine. “But either you do it or Jungwoo does it. And you saw what he did to Taeyong.”

“Can’t I just cut my hand off instead?”

That makes him burst out in laughter.

“No, you can’t. I won’t allow it.” He brings your hand up to kiss the back of it.

“Can I go in your stead?”

“I mean, you can go… but I’d still have to go too.”

“Okay.” Your voice cracks. “I’ll sign up for the military right now. We can go together.”

“No.” He pecks your nose. “You have to stay right here in our cozy home and live your regular-schmegular life from before I left so that when I come back we can pick up right where we left off. Yeah?”

“I’m gonna miss you so much…” you drop the shaver on the bathroom floor and throw your arms around Jaehyun. “Please don’t die. You can’t die. If you die, I’ll kill you. I-”

Your paranoid ramble continues, your voice getting higher and higher until you sound like the loveliest mosquito Jaehyun’s ever heard.

“I won’t.” He pulls back to see your face. “I won’t die, okay? I’ll call you whenever I can, visit as often as possible, it’ll be like I never even left.”

“But you will! You will leave and I’ll be alone and you’ll be bald.” You sob at the last word. “You’ll be bald…”

“…is that what you’ve been focusing on?”

“You look so good with long hair. You’re the handsomest man in the world but when you have your hair long you’re the most handsome guy in all of the galaxies… I’m gonna lose my boyfriend and his hair. Life is so hard.”

“I know,” he pats your head, pressing his back against the toilet for enough space to let you sit on his lap. “Life is so hard, isn’t it?”

“So hard…” You nod, wiping your tears with the back of your hands. “’m sorry, Jae. You’re the one going to the military and here I am, making a new ocean with tears.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” He hums. “Think of it as crying for the two of us. I don’t think it’s set in yet that I’ll be away for almost two years—” You let out a small whimper at the reminder. “—but I’m sure I’ll cry just as much when I’m on the way. More probably.”

“I hate this.” You pull him in, digging your nose into his shoulders to take in his smell and try to imprint the moment as a core memory in your mind.

“…I always could go to prison instead.”

You groan.

“No. No prison. Just… bald.” You sigh, looking up at him and digging your fingers through his cloud-like white hair. “Just bald, egg-headed Jaehyun.”

“Hey, calm it before I buzz your head too.” He flicks your forehead with his teeth dug into his lip. “Then it won’t just be me that’s ‘egg-headed’. Honestly. Where do you come up with these things?”

“Twitter.”

“I thought you said you deleted Twitter.”

“…I lied.”

“Of course you did.” Jaehyun takes his turn now to sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You love me.”

“I do.” His gaze softens and disarms you completely.

“I love you too.” You curl yourself back into him.

“I’ll marry you. You know that, right?” He looks at you.

“…yeah. I know.”

It’s not the first time the subject has been brought up. Jaehyun is a traditional romantic, you learned this within the first three months of your relationship.

Candlelit home dinner dates, weekly sent bouquets, random appreciation sonnet-like messages. Jaehyun has always been open about his desire for matching bands and golden anniversaries. And though you might not have always wished for the same thing, as the days passed holding Jaehyun’s hand in your own, how could you not start having similar dreams?

“You can’t die.”

“I told you, baby. I’m not going to die-”

“You have to come home safely so we can get married when you come back.”

Jaehyun’s eyes light up for only a second before he smashes his lips against yours, eager and clumsy at the thought of exchanging rings. It's your first time expressing your desire to walk down the aisle so openly, a day Jaehyun sometimes felt would only happen in his dreams. His mind buzzes with ideas for the venue, his suit, your dress.

“Cut my hair,” he says, and you feel him breathe on your face.

“It’s not gonna make you enlist any faster, you know?”

“I don’t care.” He smiles.

“…alright.” You pick up the shaver off the ground.

“Why do you have so much hair?” You frown, trying to see where his hair ends and his scalp begins. “Are you a man or a beast?”

“Depends on the location. For example, if it's the bedroom-”

Bzzzt!

“Oh...” You purse your lips. “Jae.”

“…what is it?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What did you do…?” He whispers.

“You’re handsome enough to pull it off, I promise.”

“Oh my God.”

author's note hi ! another jaehyun request coming soon i'm just terrible at deciding on endings lololol . also, renjun is BACK injeolmis CHEER !!!!! would love to write more for renjun so lmk if that's something that interests u :>

p.s. i made a ko-fi . don't feel obligated to do anything with it, but if u ever win the lottery, like my writing, and don't know what to do with it , well . . . gestures vaguely .

[wheeloffortune-design]

GUYS. MEN. BOYS.

and other people that have awful dating website pictures and profiles.

Please, make an effort. Girls don't swipe left because they're superficial and wouldn't understand you. They swipe left because your profile is either uninspiring or you look like a serial killer.

Just. Make an effort.

YOUR PICTURE.

Please learn how to take a selfie. This is the right selfie angle:

Up, and a little bit to the side. You want a nice 3/4 view from above, it hides the double chin, gives your face definition and depth, and looks way better than just a front picture. Learn how to take selfies like a girl, we look amazing in them.

Don't take it from too close, you need to stretch that arm. You need to frame your full head, neck and shoulders.

The white light from the bathroom will highlight all your redness, your pimples, your face imperfections. You want a nice warm light with yellow tones, not white. Or maybe natural light, go stand next to a window.

The left picture is an immediate no. The right picture is a 'He seems nice, I'll read his profile.'

If you have one of these photos in your profile, sure, just don't make it the first one people will see.

The sunglasses-and-hat combo hides you. And we honestly don't care about the fish, no matter how huge it is.

YOUR LOOKS

Contrary to general belief, women don't systematically go for traditionally handsome guys. But they do go for well groomed ones. And it's not even that hard, the bar is in hell.

Clothes: wear something clean that fits you nicely. You can look presentable no matter your weight or musculature if you wear the right clothes.

Hair: If you have very thin and lifeless hair, and sometimes a receeding hairline, wearing it long and untied does not help you at all. It makes you look like RiffRaff from Rocky Horror.

A good haircut can frame your face, highlight your best features. There is no bad hair, only bad haircuts. And don't worry if you're greying or going bald, women don't judge your hair like that. But a bad haircut can make you look like a serial killer.

Also, please, no fedoras or trillbys. They're a red flag and also don't look good on anyone.

And trim that beard.

OTHER PICTURES

You don't need a lot. A good, first photo should be your face, well lit, smiling. You're not aiming for pretty, you're aiming for 'functional member of society'. You just need to look like a normal person.

For the others, try some photos doing the activities you like to do. Don't force the gym photo if it's not really your lifestyle, we're not that impressed anyway. But photos doing the things that you love, that's what will change a 'maybe' into a 'oooh I also like doing that!'. And don't worry about nerdy pictures, if the girls are nerds they will like it. I've swiped right many times when I see cosplay.

YOUR PROFILE

Now, a man is his own worst enemy. Women on dating websites are already open to try, but men so often shoot themselves in the foot.

Don't write something negative about women in general, relationships sucking, your ex, etc etc. If someone has reached your profile text, they don't want to read your bitching. They don't know you, they don't care.

You need to be polite, nice, approachable. Interesting. Tell what you like to do in life, and what you're looking for. It's not hard:

'Hi! I'm Mark, I'm back on this dating app, hoping this time will be the right one! I work a boring desk job, but what I really love is reading weird horror novels, playing retro games, and trying new recipes. I have two dogs, who rule my world. I'm open to new friendships, would like a steady relationship in the end.'

It's that simple.

Also: MAKE UP YOUR MIND ABOUT WANTING KIDS OR NOT.

If I see another profile of a guy who's 40 and still undecided, I will burn down a building. Women need to know if they want kids or not because we have a deadline. They're looking for this in a guy's profile. Wether you want kids or not, write it somewhere.

Don't explicitely talk about sex in your profile, it's creepy. We don't know you. Also, if you manage to chat with a woman, don't start asking questions about sex right away, that never works. You need to understand that we deal with so many creeps. Please don't be another one.

So, tl;dr:

You need to look and talk like a normal, functional human being, who has a job, and hobbies.

You don't need to be extremely handsome, you just need to not scare them away. Dating websites are so full of badly taken pictures and creeps, that seeing just a normal dude who likes dogs is a relief.

The bar is in hell. The effort required to rise above the creeps and weirdoes is minuscule. Go take a well-lit selfie.

[bigification]

Careful What You Wish For

I lay the cheap looking lamp on my bathroom counter as I get ready for a bath. I can't believe I caved and bought it, it's obviously a scam. This stupid lamp isn't gonna grant any wishes, that old man just got some free cash out of me. It doesn't matter, I'll just take a relaxing bath and throw on some Netflix later.

I get undressed and run some hot water into the bath. Some scented candles set the mood for relaxation, and I throw on some music. I dip myself into the warm water, and lay back.

My relaxation doesn't last long however, as a rumbling catches my attention. It's the lamp. It's vibrating with enough force that I can feel it from across the bathroom. Suddenly a purple smoke emerges from the lamp.

"I may grant you one wish." A soft whisper echoes out of the smoke.

What the actual fuck. This isn't possible. Did that guy drug me? Maybe I should just say a wish to see if it's true.

"I wish to be a more mature looking guy who likes sports." I blurt out. I've always hated how much I look like a teenager despite being a full blown adult, so this could fix that. Also I wouldn't mind being a fit guy who likes sports, it wouldn't hurt.

The moment I say it, the smoke starts to travel towards me. All the smoke spirals into my mouth and nose. I should be scared, but it kinda feels nice. A warm feeling sprouts in the core of my body, making me feel relaxed again.

As the smoke fills my body, I feel my muscles twitching. It must be true, my body is changing. My twig like arms thicken, with bulging biceps and defined forearms. My soft hands grow twice as big and fill with rough callouses. My chest puffs out into two juicy pecs and my stomach flattens into a cut six pack. My thighs thicken as I feel my ass plump up. Even my feet look like they've grown a few sizes. I also have to start bending my legs, as Ive become too tall for the bath tub I'm sitting in.

I look at my reflection in the water and see a handsome man in his late twenties. Holy shit, I'm hot! I've got a chiselled jawline with a dark beard covering it. All my features seem more angular, more manly. As I'm observing my reflection, I notice a pelt of dark hair grow all over my body. My chest, my arms, my legs, everywhere is dusted in a coat of hair.

This is everything I wanted. Even the sports. Memories of playing sports all throughout school flood my mind. I especially liked soccer, though I also really liked weight lifting. More memories of my extensive sex life flood my mind, people are almost hypnotised by my good looks.

Just as I'm reminiscing about my past, I remember I should be working out right now. I can't skimp out on my workout routine. I go to get out of the bath and notice I've got my underwear on. Huh, I must have forgotten to take it off before getting in the bath.

As I'm stepping out of the bath, something feels wrong. A warm feeling once again fills my core. I look down and see my six pack fade under a belly of fat. It continues growing until it sags over my underwear. My pecs swell into a pair of man tits, though they still have a solid base of muscle. My arms double in size, though with a soft layer of fat now covering the muscles. My hands thicken until they look like stuffed sausages, as more rough features cover them.

I feel my underwear tighten around my waist as my ass fattens. My thighs thicken until there is no gap between them, and my feet grow many sizes. I even feel my perspective shift higher, as my height increases.

The dark hairs on my body fade to an almost white colour as the hair thickens around my body. As I'm looking down at my body, I notice hair on my head fall to the ground. I look in horror at my reflection in the mirror, I have to duck just to fully see my face. My hairline recedes all the way to the back of my head, leaving me practically bald. My once sharp facial features have softened under a layer of fat. And a double chin has formed under my beard. I look so old.

Though the more I stare at my body, the more familiar it becomes. Memories flood into my mind of my career in soccer. I was a high level player, and a popular one at that. But you age out of professional soccer in your late thirties. I started focusing more on the weight lifting and less on the cardio. There was only so long I could keep that six pack, and turning 50 certainly didn't help with that. I don't mind it though, it makes me feel more manly. And it makes the team I coach more afraid of me.

I snap out of my trance. I grab a towel and start to dry off. Damn I forgot to take off my underwear again, I should get rid of this one anyway, it doesn't fit me anymore. I duck and look at myself in the mirror.

"Lookin good coach." I say as I smile at myself.

I turn to the other side of the bathroom and step on my scale. It reads '350'.

"Damn, I've really let go of myself, huh." I say as I jiggle my gut.

I also measure my height, it reads 6"6. I should have gone into volleyball with the build I had.

I dry off and leave the bathroom. I grab a family sized bag of chips and lay my fat ass down on the couch. I open the tv and it's already on the world cup. I really wouldn't want it any other way.

[tfgalore]

SwapCorp: Theo

Most people didn’t believe in swaps. Theo was among the many who thought that SwapCorp, a new company claiming to be able to transfer people’s consciousness across bodies, was a complete hoax. But that didn’t stop him from hearing about it daily. Even as he finished up his pull-ups at the gym, the TV that sat in the corner was blaring out some news about it. They were mainly criticisms of the companies shadier transactions and an investigation into where exactly SwapCorp got the young, youthful hunks it seemed to specialise in. There were even reports of criminals using the bodies to get a fresh start.

Theo shrugged it off though. That will never happen to me, he thought to himself, happy to keep pumping iron. Little did Theo know, SwapCorp’s nefarious intentions was going to hit a lot closer to home than he thought.

The hunk had forgotten all about SwapCorp on his walk home. A silent midnight, with nobody around. The perfect spot for a kidnapping. It was faster than Theo could realise. There was rush of footsteps behind him, and a sudden sting in his neck before he could even turn.

“Hey! What the hell?” Theo whipped around to see a thick, burly figure standing in front of him. He couldn’t make out the man’s face though. Like the rest of his world, the man’s face swirled into a mix of colours. The fast acting drugs already coursed through Theo, knocking the jock unconscious within seconds.

“Target acquired. Preparing for transport.” The words echoed through Theo’s head, seconds before he passed out.

The next time Theo awoke, the damage had already been done. His bones ached. His muscles felt pathetically weak. It took all of his strength to even sit up. His palms spread out across the soft sheets he laid in, and that’s when Theo got his first shock. The back of his hands were wrinkled, the skin looked more like aged parchment compared to the usual veiny and toned hands he sported.

“What the-“ Theo croaked on a voice he didn’t recognize. It was grained and higher pitched, nothing like the sultry, treble tone that he’d used to seduce plenty of girls in the past. His first instinct was to shoot out of bed and find out what was going on, yet everything ached again as he tried to move. His knees felt like they were on the verge of giving out.

Theo’s eyes darted across the room, looking for clues. He seemed to be in a bedroom. An old, well furnished room that reminded him of his past childhood home even. Theo’s eyes brushed across the mirror. And then they shot back. Where he expected to see himself in bed, there was a 50 year old male looking back. He wore the same shocked expression Theo was making.

“Who are you?” Theo yelled. The man yelled too. That’s when it hit Theo. The man in the mirror was him! Somehow, he had aged 30+ years. Gone was his youthful and stunning features, worn away by age. He looked too different to be himself though, Theo recognised. He brought trembling hand up to his head. There were signs of balding, his hair was a snow-white instead of his usual coiffed and rugged black.

This has to be a dream! There was no way that could be him! Theo’s mind raced with rationalisations. Maybe he’d worked too hard at the gym and caused himself to pass out. Resulting in this crazy fever dream…

“Ah, good, you’re awake.” The voice snapped Theo out of his stupor. A man in a business suit walked in. And right on his heels, Theo entered next! Or at least, Theo’s body did. It was a mindfuck for the jock to see his own cocky smirk staring back at him. Whoever it was, was wearing a sleeveless tanktop, and was grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s going on here!? Where the fuck am I?!” Theo yelled, which came out in a course and croaky tone. Even his vocal cords sounded aged.

“Mr Stone, please take it easy. You need rest after the procedure, especially in your current state and age.” The man donning the suit put up his hands placatingly.

“I’ll take it easy when you explain what is happening! How am I in someone else’s body! And who’s in mine!?” Theo could feel his breath wheezing. Not only was he old, this body he was in was wildly unfit!

“Your body has been paid for by Mr Woods, here. Thanks to a large donation and help getting the authorities off our back, Mr Woods is currently the sole proprietor of one Theo Stone.” The man explained.

Theo was stunned. Some proprietor!? This wasn’t some piece of estate or a patent they were talking about! This was his damn body! And yet, he wasn’t even in it. The man continued before Theo could speak. “There is no chance for you to bring this up to the cops. After all, who is to believe you when Mr Theo Stone himself will be denying these accusations.” The man gestured to “Theo” who had been quiet until then. “You will be given help adjusting to your new life, and we urge you to accept these changes.”

Theo wanted to scream, kick and punch. But his frail body wouldn’t let him. Instead, he sat in disbelief, watching as his former body, now held by a pervy old man, began to flex. The real Mr Woods seemed perfectly content with his renewed youth. Watching Theo’s muscles ripple and flex in the mirror at his command brought a wide grin to his face.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take great care of this body. Promise.” Woods said with yet another smirk…

————————————————————————

It had been five months since the swap. Mr Woods had grown perfectly accustomed to his new life as Theo. In fact, plenty of people in his life saw the changes. In their eyes, the previously homophobic jock had taken a full 180. From having a different girl in his bed each night, Theo was now hooking up with hunks and twinks left and right. Every gay bar in the city knew his name. “Take it off Theo” they called him, thanks to his proclivity to strip off and flex for fun in the clubs and bars. Of course, the managers never did mind. It was just more good business for them when the hunk pulled in desperate and horny guys.

Even at the gym, Theo got plenty of action. His clothes got tighter and tighter over the weeks, his bubble butt on full display under the 5 inch shorts he’d switched to in place of the usual grey sweatpants he used to wear. Hunks seemed to love it, plenty of them pulling Theo aside in the locker room to give his bubble butt a few swats before giving him a raunchy fuck in the locker room.

Theo loved it all of course. And to make matters worse, he’d dropped out of college. He wasn’t going to waste his second chance at life on something he’d already gone through once before. Instead, the new Theo decided modelling was his calling. After all, with a body like his, recruiters were practically lined up for him.

That was the only morsel of his old life that Theo got. Now left alone in an old age home affiliated with SwapCorp, the real Theo could only watch his old body through the pics and vids posted on his Instagram and his modelling gigs. Each time, he’d sigh as he felt his heart break at what he’d lost. Nobody had listened to his deranged ranting about forcibly being swapped. After all, most people believed it was SwapCorp was a hoax…

[fox-guardian]

[ID: Three digital drawings of Teddy Vaughn from The Magnus Protocol on a gray background. He is a fat, bald, black man with dark brown skin and a lot of body hair and a goatee and small mustache. In the two largest images he is wearing small gold hoop earrings, a dark blue sweater, a gold button-down with the sleeves rolled up and the collar unbuttoned, brown slacks, blue socks, brown oxford shoes, and a gold watch. On the right is a full body drawing of him doing a little dance and whistling, and on the bottom left is a chest-up drawing of him lifting up a glass of beer with a pinky raised saying "cheers" but written as "cheeahhs~" and making an exaggeratedly posh expression with one brow raised and his eyes rolling back a bit.

In the upper left is a doodle of him wearing a dull yellow button-down, gold necktie, and gold and brown argyle vest as well as his earrings, looking back tearfully at Colin, who is a skinny white guy with a blonde ponytail and mustache and glasses, and who is also looking tearfully at Teddy. There is a little broken heart between them. end ID]

~~~~

teddy sillies cuz i like this guy. i ended up doing multiple from that poll. also i think colin and teddy maybe had a thing that ended when teddy left, they're silly guys

[staticbleeding]

⛧°。 ⋆Waiting on the Stars ⋆°⛧

+:｡.｡　teen Stanford Pines x gn reader　｡.｡:+

I really want to turn this into a multipart story if this gets good enough reception so let me know what yall think! warnings : strong language, suggestive language, the usual teen shit pt.1 pt.2

1972 Moving to the small town of Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey was not how you expected to start your senior year. Not long into your stay however, a certain twin catches your attention, or maybe you caught his. Will this be a journey among the stars? Or another tale lost to time?

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Your shoes squeak quietly against the vinyl floors of the halls as you walk to the office. Glass Shard Beach High School is painted on big letters against the walls. Eyes bare down on you as if you had a third arm. No one moves to this town. Let alone a new student in their last year of highschool. The walk to the office was filled with whispers and stares. You do your best to keep quiet and ignore the anxiety boiling up inside you. "It's only one year. Just survive one year here then you are gone from here", you mentally console yourself. You stop yourself in front of a door with big letters saying 'Office'. Opening the door, you are met with a dingy room that smells of old paper and sweat. Off to the side of the room is a big desk that sits an older lady with curly grey hair and thick glasses that looks like they can fall off at any movement. She types away at a typewriter that looks older than herself, "Um excuse me? Am I supposed to get my schedule here?", you speak for the first time since entering this dull building. The lady looks up at you with a sweet smile forming on her aged face. "Yes! What's your name dear?" she says in a sweet voice. You smile at her, "(Y/N)(L/N)". She opens a big filing cabinet that looks like it hasn't been dusted in centuries. She pulls out a beige file that has your name on it, a thin piece of paper falls out as she opens it. Handing you the paper along with a map, she welcomes you to Glass Shard. Bidding the woman goodbye, you walk out into the hall and navigate yourself to your first class.

Physics is written in big bold letters "You gotta be fucking me" you groan out. Opening the door you are met with eyes immediately on your form. Despite the eyes watching every move you walk up to the teacher sitting down at his desk at the front of the class. "You must be the new student. My name is Mr. Barron and I will be your teacher for this year. What's your name?" the balding man takes your hand to shake. As you shake the sweaty hand of the older man, your name falls from your lips. "Everyone this is your new classmate (Y/N)! Be nice for once please", turning his attention back to you, "go ahead and take a seat next to Stanford". His hand directs you to an empty seat next to the said kid. You sit down and look over at Stanford. Thick glasses sit on the strong nose of the man. A white button up is adorned by a red bow tie is tied perfectly against his neck. His hands are busy drawing in a notebook that looks to be filled with art and many ramblings. "Hi Stanford" your voice whispers out to the man that hasn't looked at you since you sat down "Please call me Ford" Stanford says in a quiet voice trying to ignore your gaze on him "Oh okay Ford" You smile at the nerdy looking man You gaze at his artwork, "You are really good at that", pointing at his current drawing of some sort of creature. A light red dusts the mans face. You start to notice more features of Ford's. His square jaw, the little indent on his chin, his glasses that he keeps pressed close to his face. He clears his throat and whispers a small thank you. Nodding your head, you turn your attention back to your books in front of you. His gaze strays to you throughout the class. Stealing glances at you as your focus is elsewhere. Taking in every detail of your face and mannerisms. The way your hair falls, your little laughs at the teacher's jokes, and the way you looked so focused on your notes. Who are you? What led you to this town? Questions circle his head as he watches you gather your books and backpack as the bell rings. That night he went home and sat awake, drawing in his notebook wondering what made you so interesting to him. Weeks go by as you get into a rhythm of going to classes and trying to get used to your new home in Glass Shard. Becoming more and more accustomed to the new town and starting to make more friends as the days come and go. The words shared between you and Ford slowly become more and more. Your first block interactions with the man becomes some sort of normality to you. A part of your everyday routine. He starts to get more accustomed to your presence, wanting more of your presence near him. He can't help but take note of the small quirks of yours. The way you lay your head down during the morning announcements trying to get one more minute of sleep, or how quickly you gather your things as the bell rings to rush and meet with your friends before your next class, or the way you look down when the teacher asks for an answer to a question. He finds himself waiting for the next moment he can get with you. But that's all he gets with you.

Walking along the boardwalk of the town you've started to get accustomed to, you look up and see a dingy looking sign. Pines Pawns Without thinking, your hands push against the creaky door. A bell rings above your head signaling your presence in the space. Your eyes meet the wide eye look of your classmate Ford sitting behind the counter. His gaze looks over you. Seeing you outside of the classroom wracked his nerves instantly. His palms begin to sweat and stick to the pages of the magazine in his hand. "Oh Ford! Hi". You smile towards the man you grew to know in your brief interactions. "(Y/n)?? W-what are you doing here?" He stutters out, quickly clearing his assortment of Cryptid Weekly magazines that are spread out in front of him.

"Thought I would finally pop my head in here after walking by it for awhile." You smile at the blushing man "Oh um...well this is it. My family store.." He scratches the back of his neck and looks away from your prying eyes. "Weird seeing you outside of school. I started to think you lived there." You joke with the blushing mess in front of you. A part of you weren't joking. You swear you have only seen the man walking in the halls with his twin and back to class. Never outside. You see the man tighten up and look down at the ground with embarrassment filling his body. "So what kinda cool stuff do you guys sell?" Sensing the incoming awkward silence, you fill it in. Looking around you spot gold chains, fur coats, and various diamond rings you for sure knew were fake. "Just..stuff. What would you call 'cool stuff'?" Ford says with a small smile. "Like dinosaur shit, shrunken heads, fairy dust? I ran out of all of my fairy dust last night. Need a refill man." You joke as your fingers graze against a fur coat that was definitely needing a wash. "None of that here unfortunately. We do have crystals however. Fake of course, but pretty nonetheless." the man looks towards you at that last part. Leading you to the back of the shop, he shows you a small crystal that definitely is plastic. You gently grab it from his hand. Your fingers graze over his. The thought that this is the first time you two have ever touched crosses his mind and he immediately looks down and tries to focus on anything else. You soon find a couple of crystals that would look nice in your room. Buying them and leaving the store left a silence Ford wishes would swallow him whole. He watches as you leave the shop with a little jump in your walk. The first time he has seen you outside of school and he spends the entire time a stuttering mess. "Nice going Ford." He mutters to himself and waits for the time the store closes. He doesn't hear his Ma scamming another person with her phony 'readings'

He doesn't hear Stan call dibs on the shower first

He walks to his shared room like a zombie and lays on his bunk. Looking up at the posters that are stuck to the bottom of the top bunk, Ford thinks about how you laughed and joked with him, how your fingers felt grazing his, how your eyes looked when you smiled. Slowly his eyes close and he drifts to his now usual nighttime routine of seeing your face smiling. Not cause of some stupid joke someone made but cause of him. He can't help but wish he had more confidence to talk to you. Ask if you want to go to the beach sometime. Maybe this is more than just a simple curiosity. He groans and hides his blushing face against the pillow. Silently wishing you would leave his mind. But you don't.

Little did he know, that you were thinking of the interaction yourself. Wondering why he stood out to you so hard.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Shit this was the first full story I have written in like 3 years?? I hope y'all enjoy and if it's liked, I will love to have more parts. Baii <3

[misctf]

Renovations Needed

For @artificial-transmutations

“Wait, you’re serious? Your uncle left you property?”

Andy nodded, “I’m as shocked as you are. But it says it right here. Look!” He handed Michael the paper, “It’s his old club. Not in the best part of town though...”

“Doesn’t matter, we can sell it!” Michael smiled, “We’ve been pretty tight on cash and we could use it for our wedding.” Michael hugged him, “Babe, this is incredible.”

Andy smiled warmly at his boyfriend. Michael was perfect. His smile enough to brighten up even his darkest days. His lean, muscular build highlighted under his tight white shirt. But more importantly, they complimented each other well. Michael’s ambition tempered and strengthened by Andy’s kindness.

“So, let’s go check it out”

_________

Compared to their cozy home, his uncle’s property was on the “bad side” of town. And just as his uncle neglected his body, he did the same to his property. Boarded up and worn down, this place needed a lot of work.

“Geez he let this place go.” Michael said, as the two inspected a broken window, “Fuck, I doubt we’ll get much for this place.” Andy frowned.

The two unlocked the front door, overwhelmed immediately by a moldy smell. The floors were stained, the bar was in shambles, and the walls were dirty. Andy jumped at the sight of a rat.

“What did you say your uncle did again?”

“He ran a club.” Andy replied, “At least until all that smoking caught up to him.” He navigated around some broken glass, “This place was really big back in the day... first gay club in the neighborhood.”

Michael nodded and continued his inspection, “Babe, look at this.” Andy’s eyes fell on a framed picture of his uncle, “Tough looking dude.”

Andy nodded, “That was him in his prime.” Mountainous biceps, a wide back, jutting pecs, bald, a thick beard- his uncle wasn’t someone you messed with. His stern glare could snap a lesser man in two, “He was never my biggest fan. I’m not exactly... tough. Just a ‘wimpy bitch boy’, as he would say.”

Michael frowned and kissed his boyfriend, “You’re perfect to me, babe.”

The rest of their inspection was disappointing, but nothing could compare them for the bathroom. Piss stains littered the floors and walls. Urinals were caked in it. There was even one missing- completely torn away from the wall. The smell nearly knocked them out, and they quickly retreated.

“This sucks.” Andy looked over to the photo of his uncle. His stern gaze piercing his soul, “He could’ve really made something of this place.”

“Agreed. It’s a real shame.” Michael replied, “He really fucked up, didn’t he.”

Andy sighed, looking at the picture of his uncle. And suddenly, an idea popped into his head, “What if I clean it up?” Michael let out a laugh, “No seriously! I could get this place straightened up. It would increase the value for sure!”

Michael sighed, “You really think you can do much for this dump?” Andy felt a sudden pang of anger that quickly dissipated before he could process it, “Look babe, I’ll support you. Couldn’t hurt.” He leaned in for a kiss.

_________

“This place looks better already.” Andy whispered as he entered the club the next day.

The club somehow already looked cleaner. Maybe even a little livelier. The smell wasn’t as bad, the floors not as dirty. But there was still work to be done. Andy swept the floor and watched as the grime vanished without much effort. He even dusted the photo of his uncle.

“We didn’t really get along, but thank you.” Andy whispered.

When he arrived home, Michael greeted him warmly, “Hey babe, how’d it go?” He scrunched his nose, “Damn, you stink.” He chuckled, but Andy glared at him, “I didn’t mean anything by it.” Michael replied, realizing his boyfriend wasn’t in the mood.

“I’m gonna go shower.” Andy said, brushing past his boyfriend without even a kiss, “See you in bed.”

In the shower, Andy tried to relax. His muscles were sore from earlier. And as he lathered up, he was surprised to feel small hairs along his chest and stomach. He was usually clean shaven, and these small dark hairs were odd. He thought little of it.  

Upon entering the bedroom, he found Michael lying in bed. Naked. A sexy smirk on his face. One that Andy usually couldn’t resist.

“You seem stressed babe.” Michael said, putting his hands behind his head, “And I think I have the solution.” His erect cock was on full display.

“Not in the mood.” Andy replied.

“Bullshit, I heard you moaning in the shower.”

“Not in the fucking mood.” Andy continued. Michael frowned, “I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Michael asked, concern etched on his face, “You seem...” He approached his boyfriend.

“I’m fine.” Andy replied, “Long day. Last thing I want is your dick up my ass.” He crawled into bed and faced away from Michael, “You coming?”

_________

The next day, Andy sat in his uncle’s office, rummaging through a desk. Even the office underwent a transformation overnight. The smell was gone, the chair was repaired, and the desk was no longer dusty. Andy scratched his chest and mentally made note that it felt firmer. But his thoughts were interrupted when he found a VHS tape. He raised an eyebrow.

“Shower Time?” He read the label, “What the fuck?” He looked up at the newly repaired TV and VHS player, “Might as well.”

The video started. There was his uncle. Nude. Standing above some guy. Some lesser man. Andy watched closely, absentmindedly rubbing his stiffening cock. And then it started. His uncle pissed on the guy below him. Andy watched as if in a trance, still rubbing his cock. And then it stopped.  

“What the fuck?” He whispered, looking down at himself, “I... I’m not into that kinda shit, am I?” The disturbed young man exited the office, “I need to get out of here...” But as he passed the watchful gaze of his uncle’s photo, he froze, “Where the fuck am I going?” He whispered, “I have work to do.”

Hours passed, and Andy’s work was nearly done. He wiped some sweat from his brow, barely registering his newly mountainous bicep. He felt his phone vibrate. Michael. He ignored the call and continued his work.

When he arrived home, Michael wasn’t there- likely at the gym. Andy walked to the bathroom and stared closely at himself in the mirror. Something wasn’t right.

“There we go.” He whispered, pulling out the clippers, “Just a little...” He buzzed away his brunette locks. Shorter and shorter until not a single hair remained, “Better.” He ran a hand over his bald head.

Later, when Michael did return home, he nearly fainted, “What the fuck?” He said, “Andy, what did you do?” Andy looked up and shrugged, “Babe, you’re bald!” Michael knew how much Andy cared about his hair, “Somethings wrong. Please just tell me.”

Andy glared at him, “You got a problem, bitch boy?” Michael’s jaw dropped, “By the way, we’re keeping the club.”

“That wasn’t the plan.” Michael crossed his arms, “What about selling it? We need the cash for the wedding.”

Andy stood up and crossed his arms, “Who gives a shit? Club’s nearly done anyway.” Michael could only watch as his boyfriend got up and left.

_________

Back at the club, Andy sat in his uncle’s office, watching another one of his uncle’s piss videos. The initial disdain for them being replaced by pure pleasure, as he jerked off. But his pleasure was interrupted when the door swung open.

“Andy, we need to...” Michael said desperately, “What are you doing?” Andy smirked and continued to jerk off, “Andy. Cut this shit out.”

“Didn’t take you for a little bitch.” Andy replied, standing up, “You should be fuckin’ happy. I mean look at me.” He flexed his biceps, which now rivaled Michael’s, “And this fuckin’ club is gonna take off.”

“But babe, I don’t want the club.” Michael replied, “Ever since we got it, you’ve been different. Andy please.” And for a second, Andy’s new persona faltered. His boyfriend’s caring eyes breaking through to him. And the kindness returned to Andy’s eyes.

“Michael...” He whispered, “I-I’m sorry.” He stepped forward, “I don’t know what happened.”

Michael smiled and hugged his larger boyfriend, “It’s okay.” He looked down at Andy’s arms, “ But you need to tell me your workout routine.” He said, trying to add some humor to the situation.

Andy shook his head, “Michael... this isn’t right.” He looked at his larger bicep.

“You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.” Michael smiled.  

The two started walking down the long hallway to the main floor. Past the furious eyes of Andy’s uncle. And Andy froze.

“Wait babe, I left something in the bathroom.” He said.

Michael nodded, “Okay, I can wait...”

“No, come with me. Please.”

Michael shivered. Something told him to run. There was something different in his boyfriend’s eyes. But he wasn’t gonna leave him. He nodded and the two entered the bathroom. It was still in a state of decay.

“God, smells like piss in here.” Michael laughed nervously, “Guess you haven’t had time...”

Andy shoved him. A forceful push that sent him tumbling against the wall. Falling exactly into the empty slot between two urinals. Michael’s back hit the wall and he winced in pain, looking up at his boyfriend.

“Andy, what the hell...” Michael tried to move, but he couldn’t. He pushed against the wall desperately and looked up at his boyfriend in terror, “Andy, please! You need to help...”

But then he saw it. Andy was frozen, his clothes shredding as his muscles continued to grow. Behind him stood the specter of his uncle, who’s ghostly hands ran up and down Andy’s enlarging body. Andy moaned as his pecs grew into a pair of firm muscle tits and hair finally carpeting his clean-shaven skin in seconds.

“Andy...?” Michael whispered. Andy’s uncle smirked and suddenly Michael was naked. Pressed against the grimy wall of the bathroom.

The young man let out a yelp as he felt the pipe behind him enter his asshole and fuse to it. And he shivered as a sickly cold passed through his body.

“It hurts...” Michael whimpered as his muscles ached.

He looked down and quickly regretted it. His muscles were deflating- retracting into his body. His proud pecs and abs smoothing out, and his brunette locks and body hair fell to the ground below. Michael cried out again as his legs began to shrink and pull up into his abdomen.

“Andy help!” Michael cried out. He could see himself in the mirror. How his human features were starting to disappear, while his skin took on a paler tone. He felt cold. A sickly inhuman cold, “I-I...”

Tears fell from his eyes as he watched his toned arms begin to retract into his body. All the while, Andy was moaning as his own body packed on firm muscle and manly hair. His once clean shaven face now sporting a beard, while his expanding arms grew wiry hairs. In the midst of his transformation, he looked down at his boyfriend.

“Michael...” He whispered, “I-I’m sor...” He moaned as his package expanded, his bulge barely contained in his tight underwear.

Michael open his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Instead, his mouth remained forced open. And he could only watch in terror as it widened and stretched, forming a basin, while his tongue shifted into a urinal cake. Tears streamed from his eyes as he felt piping emerge from the top of his head and connect with the wall behind him. The coldness he felt earlier was now spreading. His flesh fully converting to white porcelain. And the last thing he saw before his vision went black was a final look of terror from Andy, which was soon replaced by the stern look Michael recalled from his uncle’s photo.

And then it was dark. It was cold and he was unable to move. Trapped. Not able to fully understand what happened to him.

“Fuck, I gotta take a leak.” Michael could still hear Andy’s voice, now gruff and harsh. He called out for help in his mind, hoping someone could hear.

But then he felt it. In the cold darkness of his new existence, he felt warmth. And tasted what he came to horrifically realize was piss. And after a minute or two of his old boyfriend filling his new mouth with urine, he felt hands wrap around his handle. The orgasmic pleasure nearly breaking Michael’s mind entirely, but not enough to free him from his new prison. Or awareness. And as the urine was washed away, Michael cried out in anguish as he came to realize his permanent fate.

“Shit that felt good.” Andy grumbled, “Alright, back to work. Opening days in just a week.”

The larger man went to leave, but not before turning back and looking at his new urinal. Something told him he was forgetting something important. A sense of dread filling him. He shook it off and left the bathroom, all under the watchful gaze of his uncle’s ghost.

_________

Opening day would come and go. And night after night, partygoers enjoyed the club and its atmosphere. Unaware of what had transpired there. And while they might not have been aware, Michael was. Day after day, and hundreds of men later. All filling his mouth and sending him into orgasmic pleasure with just a pull on his handle. Leaving him trapped and begging for freedom. But at least Andy would visit him. To use him of course. And only him. Andy couldn’t explain his attraction to that urinal. Nor would he ever realize why.

[poeticpascal]

White Lies (Joel Miller x Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: violence, Joel kills 3 dudes (what murdaaah?), descriptions of blood and wounds, stitches, Joel feels guilt and shame but is also very soppy and very in love, fuff and angst all tangled up, descriptions of chronic pain

A/n: I have had a bloody nightmare the last few weeks with suspected endometriosis, which is what inspired me to write this. In my head, reader has endo and the medicine is some sort of contraception or strong painkillers to help her manage it. But it isn't explicitly mentioned so you can imagine whatever you most relate to. Please do let me know what you think, and as always, requests are open!

It’s a harsh winter, even by Boston’s standards.

The QZ is coated in a veil of thick snow, the blizzard that took hold weeks ago now bruising the streets with an icy fist.

Joel pulls his coat tighter around himself, grateful at least for the cover the snowstorm offered, the skies foggy and grey. He can slip through the alleyways much quicker, much quieter beneath the frost. His footsteps are erased almost as soon as he leaves them, and when things get messy, he can soothe his wounds in the freeze.

Which is good, because things get messy a lot.

Not that he’d tell you that. You were too pure, too gentle; not unlike the snow that paints your doorframe now.

No, Joel keeps those things from you. The world has been unkind enough, and if he has one purpose now, it’s to protect that sweetness of yours. To collect it, each golden ray of sunshine that so easily radiates from you, to give it back and let you bask in the warmth of your own soul. 

No one deserves it more than you do. Least not him, and yet you’d given him more love, more sweetness, than he could ever dream of.

That’s why he told you he was working a late shift today - sewage, he thinks he said - rather than where he actually is at 3am, catching his death in an old littered alleyway.

He occasionally shifts to avoid the silver moonlight dripping from the gaps in the fire-escape stairs above him. Tonight’s meeting should be a simple one, free from FEDRA’s strict patrols; he’d done this long enough now to know when, and where, was safest for these things.

He stays on high alert, though. Just in case.

Marco’s late. He isn’t known for being the most competent of dealers, but Joel was getting desperate now, and he was the only crook in the QZ who could get what he needed. He was a small man, a bit pathetic looking, really. But he was smart, and he had connections that even Joel couldn’t make for all his smuggling and dealing.

So when Joel’s supplier told him he couldn’t help him anymore, he didn’t have a choice. That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

“Miller, there ya’ are.” Joel’s snapped out of his thoughts, his looming regret of this whole situation, as Marco strolls down the alley. He grins, in the same cocky way he always did, the sort of grin a man who couldn’t win a fight but has enough men who could wrapped around his finger, doing the dirty work for him.

Joel insisted he come alone. Not because he couldn’t handle his goons; he knew he could. Maybe. But it would cause a scene, and draw attention, to something he very much wanted to keep under wraps.

He’s semi-surprised to see the two men walking behind Marco. Deep down, he’d had some faith that the dealer would stick to his word.

“Quiet the fuck down,” Joel warns, seething through his teeth as his eyes search the alley behind them, making sure they hadn’t been heard. “Who are your friends?”

Marco follows Joel’s gaze towards his companions. “They’re just here to observe.”

The men are the same height as Joel, maybe a little taller. He recognises both from the sleazy speakeasies that lie beneath the floors of the QZ. Where the bad guys go. 

One is bald, with a jagged scar carved across his cheek and over his eye. He’s scowling, unlike Marco and the other man, who looks somewhat softer with thick hair grown to his shoulders and brown eyes that stayed on Joel like bedrock.

“That’s not what we agreed,’ Joel growls.

There’s tension in the air, thick, and they must feel it too because Marco’s henchmen each have a hand hovering near their sides, where silver blades reflect the white of the snow.

“I recall us also agreeing that you’d get your meds in return for the money. But we’re doing things a little differently today.” Joel remains stoic, though his eyes turn dark and angry, the moon’s light no longer illuminating his features. Marco tiptoes slowly towards him, getting so close that Joel can feel his breath and raising a hand to pick a piece of lint from his flannel shirt. “I want my money. But you might have to wait a little longer for your meds.”

Joel reacts then, squaring up to him, stepping forward and clenching his fists. The other men wrap their hands around their blades, anticipating a fight. Marco just laughs.

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, though they all know he understood what was going on.

“You’re gonna give me the amount we agreed. And then, you’re gonna speak to one of your guard friends, and cut me a deal. Then you might get your meds.”

Joel’s anger swells inside him like a beast, his previous care to stay hidden long gone as he imagines driving his fist into Marco’s smug, son of a bitch face again and again and again. 

He has to think this through, though. He needs those meds. Marco can see the cogs turning. “Just give me the money, Miller. Don’t make this difficult. You can’t take three of us.”

“No?” Joel retorts, already decided in what he’d do next. “I don’t think it’s worth findin’ out. Give me the meds.”

Marco sighs, dropping his head and stepping away from Joel, leaving him to face his men. “Shame, Joel. You really coulda helped us.”

He nods to his men, who immediately draw their blades and attack. The first lands a punch on his face, the weight of it surprising him as he falls back into the railing. Before he can recover, the other has already plunged a blade through his stomach, right below his ribcage. He controls himself, swallows the yell that claws its way up his throat, tries to think. The cold steel of the rail stabs into his back, and when another fist collides with his cheek and sends him to the floor, he uses it to haul himself up and tackle one of the men - the softer one - to the ground with him.

Marco only stands and watches as Joel throws his weight onto the man and smashes his head into the stone floor. The other grabs his shoulder, spinning him round but Joel’s prepared this time and he dodges the swat of his knife. Instead he throws a punch into his stomach, making him double over which gives Joel the opportunity to grab the knife strapped to his calf and drive it through the bald man’s throat. He stumbles, collapsing to the floor with a choked cry, and Joel turns back just in time to see the other man trying to stand, though the injury to his head makes him dizzy. Joel stands first, easily pushing the man to the ground, and stomping on his head with as much force as his steel-toed boots would let him. Both men stay down.

Marco has regressed into the darkness of the alley, and he looks somehow smaller than usual. He’s pathetic, and if this was any other job, he’d laugh. But this wasn’t a laughing matter, and there was only one target for him; the medication.

The smaller man reaches into his pocket, searching for his gun, but Joel anticipates the move and has already reached him and thrown him against the wall before he can find it. His movements strain the wound in his abdomen, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t feel it.

Joel’s fist pins Marco to the wall by his throat, making him splutter and flail like a fish out of water.

“Where are the fuckin’ pills, Marco?” He just continues to flail, trying to pull Joel’s hand off of him with both of his own, to no effect. Joel scoffs, throwing him to the floor and dragging his knife out of the now dead henchman’s neck. “If you won’t tell me, I guess I’ve got no use for ya.” He uses his shirt to clean the blade, the flannel already soaked in blood, his own.

“For fuck sake, Marco whines, slightly out of breath. “They’re at my place.”

“There anyone else there?” Joel asks, so nonchalantly that it almost sounds like a passing thought.

“No, no one there. But you’ll need me to get you in.”

Joel looks up again, the now-clean knife held in his fist with a vice-like grip. He stalks towards Marco, ignoring his desperate pleas. 

“Shouldn’t be a problem-” 

With that, he stabs him in the chest, letting him choke and gasp on the floor and searching his pockets for a key. He finds it, and does a quick, final survey of the alleyway. The once perfectly settled snow is disturbed, kicked up in the fight, and deeply stained with blood.

Joel curses, but leaves, only now noticing the burning pain from his torso. He leans against the wall, now stood out in the street, open; but there are no guards. He doesn’t think he’d care. Instead he grabs a fistful of the snow around his feet, packs it into the wound, hissing at the sharp pain of the ice but quickly feeling relief as it numbs him.

This was going to be a long night.

—------------------

It’s another couple of hours or so before he returns. There were, in fact, people at Marco’s place - but Joel knew that would be the case anyway. They weren’t a problem.

He’d showered in Marco’s flat, after taking out the men hanging out in there. Protecting it, he assumed. And he’d found a med pack that let him stitch up the wound to some degree; it was a hack job, but it should do the trick. He’d had worse.

The most important thing was that he found the meds.

The old door of your place creaks as he steps inside, quickly closing it behind him before the cold could enter. It’s futile, really; the wooden pillars are rotten, decaying so badly that the wind sweeps through the cracks with ease, and he can see dustings of snow on the floor around your windows. But he tries anyway.

“Joel?”

There you are.

It’s scary, honestly, what your voice does to him. Even so quiet, so distant from the bedroom upstairs, it lifts the weight from his shoulders that he thought he’d carry forever.

“I’m here, baby. I’m comin’.” He pulls off his shoes, placing them neatly beside the door just how you like, and heads upstairs. His bloodied shirt is long gone, buried in some forgotten corner of the QZ, where he has a collection of discarded items by now.

You don’t reply, he doesn’t expect you to. He reaches your bedroom, gently opening the door and sighing at the sight of you lying there, curled up between mountains of sheets and pillows.

He’d almost think you look peaceful if he didn’t know how much pain you’re in.

“Oh, honey,” he laments, crossing the distance from the door to you and kneeling down beside your head. You open your eyes, though they’re weighed down by exhaustion, and a small smile creeps onto your lips at the sight of the man before you.

“Hi,” you whisper, letting a gentle hand poke out from the duvet and brush his jaw. He can’t help but grin back at you, the total mess that took place just hours ago wiped from his mind completely, and he leans into your touch.

The both of you just stay like that for a moment, your thumb sweeping across his cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. Then you wince, and no matter how much you try to hide it, he can see the wave of pain inflict your body.

“I’ve got your tablets, sweetheart.” He reaches into his pocket, a desperation to his actions now; he hates seeing you like this. You just nod, pushing a meek but honest “thank you” past your lips, so quiet that he almost doesn’t hear it. His heart swells.

Joel presses out one tablet and hands it to you, then picks up the glass of water that stands on your side table, making a mental note to replace it later. You take the pill, grabbing hold of his hand before he can pull it away, and give it a gentle squeeze. He follows your lead and tips the water to your lips once you’ve placed the tablet on your tongue, gently helping you swallow and squeezing your hand right back.

A look of relief washes over your face, and he finally lets himself relax. He stands, letting go of your hand and leaning over to kiss your forehead, before pulling off the clothes he’d taken from Marco’s wardrobe and climbing in beside you.

He only knew heaven in these moments with you, late at night, when your hands reach for him beneath the sheets and your head nuzzles into his neck. It’s no different tonight; he’s quiet, unsure if you’d fallen asleep in those few seconds, and as much as he wishes you’d rest, he can’t deny the way his lips curl when he feels your gentle touch wrap around him.

“How was today? Doing the sewage?”

Joel swallows. “Yeah, yeah. It was fine. Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart.” His arms envelop you, holding you tight against him, one hand drawing gentle circles on your back. He’s lost in the bliss for a moment, letting it wash over him in waves, when your hand brushes his haphazard and you freeze. So does he.

“Joel,” you say; it’s still a whisper, but not the tired kind you’d given him earlier. It’s like you’re too scared to ask. “What’s that?”

He panics, holding you tighter, trying to think. He can’t believe himself for not remembering to cover it, to make sure you didn’t see. 

“There was an accident today. I did some building work before I went to sewage, a pipe fell. Nicked me real bad-” you gasp, forcing yourself to sit up with shaky arms. Joel immediately pulls you back down, his hands grasping your face, staring into your eyes like they held the world inside them. It’s dark, but they glimmer, and he just hopes you can’t see his fear.

“No no. It’s fine, baby. I’m fine. Got seen by the doc, got a couple ‘a stitches. Says i’ll be all good by tomorrow.”

“By tomorrow? Joel that doesn’t sound right-”

He interrupts you. He hates this. “I promise, baby. That’s what she said. I promise.” He wipes a thumb across your cheek, and the way you seem to settle, to believe him, makes him ache. He hates this.

You nuzzle back into his side, placated. You trust him, endlessly, and he hates that he abuses that trust just as much as he needs to protect you. A means to an end, he thinks.

The two of you are silent for a few moments, your hand lay gentle over his wound. Like you’re trying to heal it. He thinks it’s working.

“Thank you for picking up my medicine,” you say.

“It’s okay.” His words are quiet, muffled; he’s got his face buried in your hair now, revelling in your scent, and really, he doesn’t want to talk about this with you. He doesn’t want to lie anymore than he already has.

You’re still oblivious, though. Still sweet.

“I’m so glad you can make my rations cover it. I don’t know what I’d do if they made them more expensive.”

Oh, babygirl, he thinks.

Because your rations don’t cover your medicine. Neither did his. Even combined, they’d hardly cover a drink in the bar these days. He’d seen you work and work and work, in spite of the pain that bloomed in your abdomen and tortured your bones until you could hardly stand up anymore, and he saw the way they laughed in your face and turned you away when you tried to get the help you needed. When you tried to trade your labour for medicine. You were nothing to them.

So he told you he could barter the price down. That it was best if he goes from now on, to make sure you’re not taken advantage of. He takes your rations, stuffs them right back in the savings pot you keep above the shelves in your kitchen, and leaves to make whatever underground deals he needs to in order to get those meds. And you didn’t know a thing.

He must’ve been quiet for a while, because you continue. “And I’m glad you don’t do those scary things anymore.”

That gets his attention. “Scary things?”

“Yeah. Like, the smuggling and stuff.” You take a breath, tighten your arms around his waist. “I mean, I know why you did it. I’m glad you were able to look after yourself.”

Joel curses to himself, unable to wipe the tears that brimmed in his eyes as you spoke, because that would mean letting go of you.

“But I’m also glad you don’t do that anymore. You go out, and you work, even the horrible sewage shifts like tonight.” You giggle, but Joel can’t even force himself to smile. Shame consumes him.

“I’m proud of you, Joel.”

He’s silent. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels like shit.

If you notice his stillness, you don’t mention it. That alone makes his heart ache; you’d always been so understanding, so careful to make sure he’s okay while knowing exactly how to handle his feelings.

It’s odd, really, how fiercely you protect one another. He doesn’t let the darkness of the world so much as touch you, and you extract the horrors from his veins like a vacuum, making him forget the damage was ever even there.

His eyes flitter down, watching you drift asleep, finally at peace and free from pain. He exhales.

He’d never feel good about lying to you. But some things, he thinks, are worth it.

You are worth it.

And so he brushes away the hair that’s fallen over your eyes, trying to fight the droopiness of his own so he can keep them on you for just a second longer. But sleep overtakes him, and the only reason he lets himself fall into dreamland, is because he knows he’ll find you there, too.

[celestialprincesse]

🌹💞

Simon Riley does not like Valentines day. To him, it's another one of those pointless holidays people use as an excuse for overconsumption and to try and show off how their lives are better than everyone else's. Simon hates the excessive gaudiness of it all and the lame hearts and flowers. Seriously, how much thought does someone put into a wilting bouquet of red roses and some overpriced chocolates in a flimsy heart shaped box - they're at the front of every supermarket throughout basically all of February, everywhere.

Simon Riley hates Valentines day until he meets you. Bumps into you at the local florist, unusually unaware of his surroundings as he stews on the pointless idiocy of another lame holiday. The way you squeal as the three dozen peonies wrapped in brown paper tumble to the floor which you land rather inelegantly beside snaps him from his reverie with a grunt. "Fuck - shite - M' so sorry love." He stutters out, feeling like all the air has been punched from his chest when he sees your big eyes staring up at him with wild confusion, now crumpled flowers long forgotten as you stare up at the intoxicatingly rich brown eyes of the man before you. Although, man doesn't feel like the right word for him, tall and strong and holding out a hand the size of your head to help you up, your peonies dwarfed by his long fingers as he helps you up.

You vaguely hear yourself mumble something in response, an awkward stutter like a lovesick teenager asking their crush to the movies, met by a strong hand to the top of your bicep, soothing you, asking if you're alright. A concerned eyebrow furrows when you don't respond, just stand there gawking like a fish. He wonders if maybe you hit your head on the way down, and he was too dumbstruck by the flurry of soft silky skin, glossy, sun-struck hair and petals to see. You look like you've just seen God, and he looks like he's just seen the most beautiful thing said God could ever have crafted.

"Are you okay?" The low timbre of his voice - you don't even know how to react, so dazed and confused and there's butterflies - no, not butterflies, bald eagles and kestrels and ospreys, massive feathery wings beating against your diaphragm and rendering you speechless - butterflies are for normal men. The man before you is too monumental for butterflies.

"Yes! Yes." You squeak in embarrassment like a mouse under a cat's paw, looking defeatedly down at your flowers, brown eyes following your gaze with a sympathetic look.

"Were these for someone?" He seems almost a little flustered by his foolish lack of spatial awareness, which just so happened to strike at the worst time, seeing as now he stands before you, clutching a withering bouquet, failing to save this conversation. Both of you stand like that together, in some strange limbo, like time has stood still in order to force you together, not starting back up again until this conversation goes somewhere. "Just me." You murmur, voice so pathetically small under the draw of his magnetism. He's probably here to get flowers for his girlfriend, or fiancee even. She'll probably turn up any second, beautiful and charismatic and just as magnetic as the man before you is.

"Let me buy you some more, yeah?" He nods his head back in the direction of the fancier florist in town, the one you'd splurged on in a valentines induced self-pity party. He buys you three dozen pink peonies, matching paper and ribbons too. He also insists on taking you for a coffee, and buying you some silly pink and white frosted cake in the excuse that your blood sugars probably dropped after the fall and some other fake nonsense like that. You obviously say yes, to the flowers and the coffee and the cake - to the gentle smiles and the crease of his warm brown eyes, his hand on the small of your back. Both of you say yes to giving Valentines day a try.

⋆ ˚.⋆୨୧˚

Some short simple little V day fluff for y'all the brain isn't braining at the moment but also wanted to give you all a little Valentines day present because ily