#also the entry is on top so take from that what you will

[olderthannetfic]

Knitting question!

Intellectually I know failure is fine. I'm a beginner! I'm learning! Mistakes are part of the process! But I find it really hard not to be demotivated by projects not turning out how I want

I spent all this time and materials on this and it's just kinda shit?

Did you experience that/have any advice?

--

I definitely experienced that when I first tried knitting. I don't remember, but I suspect it's why I drifted away from the craft for nearly two decades.

I have a couple of semi-failures from my current re-entry into knitting. I intend to frog or partially frog them and re-knit, but there are other projects I care more about that are taking priority so far.

Right now, I love watching youtube videos with little tricks to improve one's knitting or deep dives into technical matters. I find information on fiber fascinating. I think that has helped me avoid many of the problems I experienced the first time around. Even if I run into an issue now, I can probably redo the project to make it how I want.

I think the first thing to figure out is how it's kind of shit. Yes, yes, you're a n00b, but there are lots of reasons projects turn out shitty. Some issues require a lot of practice. Many issues require reading a blog post explaining some technical thing and instantly upgrading your knowledge.

--

For example:

When I first got back into knitting, I got some pretty green yarn and made a Medieval-looking hood. I had no clue how alpaca behaved or that it would be waaaay too flowy for the look the pattern was supposed to have. I was also knitting the pattern with the wrong size of yarn, needle, etc. It turned out way too big for me and a formless blob. It was also itchy.

A year or two later, I threw it in the dryer, and now it's an epic rainy day hood. It's mostly not itchy because the felting stuck down all those hairy ends. It has a lot more body now because it's felt instead of flowy hand-knit alpaca. (And, hey, it's even more Medieval since those hoods were often felt but not often knitted as far as I could tell.)

What went wrong here was mostly that I knew fuckall about fiber. I knew I was making it in some randomass size and didn't really care that it was too big, but I didn't know it would slither off of me due to alpaca's drape. I didn't need practice: I needed someone to tell me how alpaca behaves.

--

Example 2:

I knit that Owls sweater and didn't like how it had no shaping... so I winged it. I ended up with really bizarre shaping because 1. I had no idea what I was doing and 2. I didn't close the underarm holes until the very end, so the sweater appeared to fit when I tried it on.

I could open the underarms back up and knit a separate piece for them, but I realized that I dislike the fabric overall. I knit it on a too-big needle (in my opinion). I thought I liked that looseness in my swatch, but I have changed my mind. I was also worried about running out of yarn (since it's a used yarn that I won't find again), but I had tons left over. I also think I want it more cropped. The yarn has a sort of nasty texture but beautiful color, and I knit quite a tight (and thus scratchy) sweater. I don't think I wet blocked it though, so that might fix the texture.

What I should actually do here, assuming I don't just get rid of the thing in favor of better yarn, is frog it and reknit from the top down, reversing the pattern and not having a phase with the underarms open like that. I should also knit it at a tighter gauge but with a little more positive ease, and I should trust that the stretchiness of wool will make it conform to my body just fine without a lot of shaping. Before any of that, I should wet block it and see how the texture changes.

I don't really consider this a permanent failure. I like the Owls themselves. I can easily just knit this again and get a sweater I want to wear... possibly a cardigan, now that I think about it. The yarn is a relatively robust wool that will be fine being frogged and reused, and knitting it gave me more experience with finishing a whole sweater. My various fuckups taught me things about both knitting and my personal taste.

I guess it could be demotivating because it took a while, but on that bigass needle, it really didn't take that long. I would probably always have knit multiple sweaters from this pattern. I see more than one in my future anyway.

Experience was an issue here, but it wasn't experience with the literal act of knitting. My tension was fine. It was more that I fucked around and found out.

--

Example 3:

I made a self-drafted BTS sweater out of another batch of used yarn that I'll never get more of. I love the body. the sleeves are too tight in the upper arm, and my bizarre-ass design for the top of the body means that the sweater wants to be a boat neck but also fit differently in the sleeves and... gaaaaah. The tight sleeves don't feel bad, but what they do do is make the whole sleeve slide down my arm weirdly because of the fit issues around the boat neck.

Part of why the upper arm area is so tight is that I was worried I'd run out of yarn (which I did) and I wanted a balloon sleeve rather than a straight one. The yarn is so stiff that the balloon part is weird, and the two other purple yarns I added for the lower sleeve look weird. I should have reversed their order because one matches too well, and now it just looks like I ran out and had to add a last inch in a random other yarn. I have most of those two skeins left hanging around and a sweater that fits strangely.

Also... it needs hand washing but is shaped and sized to be worn against bare skin, so it gets stinky after a few hours of wear because I am a sweaty, sweaty person.

In this case, I wouldn't redo the body: this silk blend will look less nice after frogging, and I already roughed it up a lot knitting the damn thing the first time. I knit it starting at the top, so the weird fit across the shoulders is mostly here to stay.

However, I'm pretty sure the bad fit on the sleeves can be fixed by ripping back and adding a bunch of width up top. I can also start with the flowier other two yarns and maybe have bands of this stiffer one that I used in the body. I suspect the weird body fit is fixable by changing what the sleeves are supposed to be doing.

This is another case of fucking around and finding out, so I'm not too disappointed in it. I did wear it to Yoongi's concert too, and it was gorgeous, if too hot.

I do realize now that I hate boat necks, but I think I can put up with this one if the sleeves aren't constantly sliding out of place.

And if fixing the sleeves doesn't rescue this, I might attempt some surgery one of these days, but that's more of a pain in the ass, so that will definitely have to wait.

--

Now, my guess is that your "kind of shit" is not "I freehanded a sweater two seconds after getting back into knitting because I'm a crazy person, and I messed up the shaping".

The more common problems are things like:

Not realizing that you should block or not blocking aggressively enough, so your stitches look way more uneven than they need to, the shape is weird compared to the example pics in the pattern, etc.

Using assy bind-offs so the edge looks amateur instead of polished. (You can go back and fix this.)

Failing to swatch, and now you've knit the wrong size.

Picking a fiber that just cannot do what you want it to—usually seen in people trying to avoid wool and not getting that 99.999999% of trendy patterns are written specifically for wool. I have an ancient sweater from college that looks nothing like the example in the book because all I could afford was big box store acrylic. Never again the plastic horror!

Buying patterns from a size 0 lifestyle blogger aspirational knitwear designer with no boobs and a great photographer, then feeling dumpy when trying the thing on under crappy lighting. This one usually requires a little more self confidence and some bust darts.

Making things in plain stockinette in a light color and smooth yarn like cotton that shows EVERY SINGLE TIME your tension wasn't machinelike. This is unfixable. Don't do this.

--

If you're using mohair or alpaca, frogging may be more trouble than it's worth, but you often can reuse the materials. Granted, you've still sunk that time in, but the materials don't always have to be wasted. That might help it feel more like time you spent practicing and less like a complete disaster.

I'm a very product-focused knitter, so I don't really have practice pieces. I'm knitting to have a Thing and I want to wear that Thing, so I get the disappointment if you don't end up wanting to actually use what you've made.

But that also helps me not get totally demotivated. I still want that Thing and now I have a clearer idea how to make it.

So... what are these "kinda shit" projects anyway? What about them do you not like?

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

no you know what im making a post about it now

SO per Rvb wiki, A'rynasea's model is a Halo Phaeton. Per halopedia, a Phaeton is 10.3 meters long, so more or less this scale right? not super big but hey, our boy Locus is on the run and needs something small and fast so fair enough right?

except

long story short: Locus breaking the scale of things is making me mad, has been making me mad for a WHILE now and the only thing i can feasibly assume is A'rynasea is bigger?? than a normal phaeton but as soon as you start scaling her up, Locus' claim that there int enough room for a third passenger doesnt make sense like, it'd be tight but as it gets bigger than a normal phaeton and you CAN squeeze three people in there

i know i know its rvb, logic doesnt apply here, but look i like to know the schematics when im in this deep and this shit is ridiculous

I reserve my right to bully locus for living in a fucking space prius

3D Model credits: Phaeton model here | My Locus model is a mismash of two models from this guy that i franksteined in blender to be slightly more show accurate

[absensia-archived]

I've spoken briefly about this before and, again, it's usually something I leave in the little details of Charlotte's portrayal, but it's really been on my mind lately so I wanted to write out some of the prominent traits that continue to establish that, despite having gradually accumulated more experience, capital, and property over the years, Charlotte remains coded as working-class. It is crucial to both the narrative itself and her actual existence as a vessel for the primordial void, also known as Khaos. This means that she still has no ( legal ) credit cards and continues to thrift almost all her belongings, including her clothes, books, and furniture ( with the exception of shoes and appliances.) If you are someone who regularly meets up with Charlotte, you might begin to notice ( if you are perceptive ) that while she may be variably early, right on time, or show up in some unexpected state, she is rarely ever late and certainly never without a legitimate reason as to why. It is also not uncommon for Charlotte to juggle multiple jobs at the same time, and the only time she'll agree to a single job, at the exclusion of all other work is if she knows that that one job will be worth it. Related to this is the fact that Charlotte has a very hard time saying no to job offers; it's a habit ( read: stress response ) she is trying to unlearn, but it continues to be a struggle. Lastly, despite having successfully taken on leadership roles in the past, Charlotte expresses a strong dislike for being consigned to a "boss" role as she still much prefers to be hands on, in the action, at risk rather than sitting back and letting others do the work. She becomes restless if she finds herself "at the top" or in the position of too much obvious power; recall the adage about how it is lonely at the top, and how isolation is not something that the void's vessel can allow. She needs to be among people; she needs to be present to catalyze chaos. That being said, this doesn't mean that Charlotte simply allows herself to be treated or thrown away as a mere lackey or just another body, but that is still part of the struggle, isn't it?

[logansdoll]

I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one

-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.

Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james

I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good

I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.

contingency

running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.

'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'

With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.

Why couldn't he just remember?

He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.

But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.

Something crucial.

"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."

Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.

"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"

Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.

In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.

"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."

A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.

"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."

"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.

Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Who was (y/n)?

What were you to him?

And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?

All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.

Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:

CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.

"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.

He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.

'Fuck it.'

Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.

He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.

Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.

Yet he knew he wasn't.

He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.

For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.

Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.

He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.

EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency

Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.

"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.

So home-like.

Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.

Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.

And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.

Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.

"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."

"No..."

"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.

He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Well?" you asked, nervous.

"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."

"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.

"I can't..."

"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."

"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.

"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"

Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.

"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.

"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.

"She can't..."

"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."

Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.

"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."

He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.

"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"

He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."

"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.

How could he have ever forgotten you?

Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.

Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.

He could remember so clearly now.

You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.

No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.

You were his escape, his safety, his peace.

Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.

Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.

With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.

Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.

He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.

The softness of your cheeks.

The kindness of your eyes.

The plumpness of your lips.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

Logan couldn't find the words.

The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.

"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.

That's right!

James!

His name was James!

"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"

You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.

Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.

"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"

He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.

"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.

"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"

Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.

'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'

Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.

"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"

In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.

"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.

Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.

"She's my wife..."

bonus !!

"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"

[lainiespicewrites]

Professor Superman

A/N okay this one's a one-shot I've been working on. I'm kinda nervous because I've never written for Clark. Let me know what you think!!

Summary: Reader is a student of Clarks who gets an internship at the Daily Planet. Clark is proud but his feelings take a turn when he realizes Lois is taking her to Gotham for research. He wants to protect her at all costs.

Warnings: Cursing, attempted kidnapping, smut, oral (female receiving) praise kink, Sex P n V, Unprotected sex, Creampie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared blankly for a moment, at the door in front of me. My heart was racing as I tried to will my hand to move. I only had to ask a simple question. Yet, I can not bring myself to know on the door. If I didn’t do this. I would likely fail the assignment and the internship. But the man was so smart and intense. I was too intimidated by him. What if I could not speak and only caused myself to look like a fool? I’d surely lose the internship then. 

I took a deep breath looking down at the paper in my hand. I had to do this. This is important. I looked back at the closed office door in front of me. Tentatively, I reached up and tapped my knuckles lightly against the wood. 

“Come in,” A gentle male voice answered my knock. With a shaky breath, I forced a smile on my face and grabbed the handle opening the door. His eyes shifted from his computer as I took a step into his office. A warm smile spread across his face once he recognized me. 

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Kent, I’ve finished my paper and I just wanted to ask if you could look over my revisions?” My voice came out quieter than I’d planned. I often had that problem when speaking to him.

“It’s no bother at all, I’ve been expecting you to drop by. Take a seat, I’d be happy to look it over.” He offered, gesturing to the chair in front of him. Professor Kent teaches a Journalism class at the university. He also works full-time for the Daily Planet paper. He’s incredibly intelligent. Each year he considers a few of his students for an internship with the newspaper. But only one of us could earn that position. I really want it. And currently, I’m one of his top candidates. 

I took a seat across from him trying to calm my nerves as I extended the paper out to him. He met my eyes. “You know, Journalism is more than just writing, and telling a captivating story. It’s about doing things that scare you, doing things that make you uncomfortable to chase down what you want to find.” He looked down at my shaky fingers as he slid the paper from my grip. 

“I understand that you’re nervous. But you have no reason to be. You continue to surprise me with just how far you’ll go with each assignment you turn in. If I were to make the final decision…” He paused looking up to make sure the door was closed, so no one would hear. “The internship would be yours,” he smiled. I blushed. 

“Thank you, Professor Kent. That means a lot.” I relaxed a bit as he leaned forward in his chair and started to read through my article. This article is my final piece. And it’s what will be submitted to the Daily Planet as my entry for the internship. I bit my lip awkwardly, trying desperately not to stare at his face as he read. His fingers tapped on the table as he looked up from the desk. 

“Y/n, This is incredible.” He smiled. My cheeks flushed staring down at my hands in my lap. 

“You don’t have to say that,” I stuttered. 

“I don’t,” He agreed, “But it’s true. I’ve only been teaching on campus for about 5 years but I’ve never had a student as dedicated as you. I’m impressed. I think Ms. Lane will be too.” I nodded, giving him a shy smile. “Are you ready to turn this in?” He asked. I nodded letting out a deep breath.

“Yeah, yes. I think so.” I said. He let out a chuckle. 

“Don’t be nervous. It’s great. I’ll take this in, first thing tomorrow.”  He gave me a gentle smile. 

“Thank you, So much. Professor Kent. I appreciate all you help!” I said as I stood to leave his office. 

“Of course,” he paused. His eyes scanned me for a moment. But I was buzzing with too much nervous energy to notice the way they lingered. “And please call me Clark, I have a feeling we’ll be working together before long.” He winked. My heart pounded in my chest and I felt my cheeks heat up.

“Thank you…Clark.” I smiled. He gave me an approving nod before I turned and left his office. 

The next week was agony.  We had two more classes with Professor….Clark, each time I stayed behind to ask if he’d heard anything. And each time he would give me a sympathetic smile and tell me to “hang in there,” just a little while longer. I should hear soon. He assured me that I was a good writer and that I shouldn’t get discouraged. But I couldn’t help it. Now it was almost 5 pm on Friday, surely if they didn’t call soon I wouldn’t know anything until Monday. 

I paced my apartment phone in hand begging it to ring. But when I checked the time at 5:30 and still, nothing. I gave up. I let out a deep sigh, setting my phone down walking to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. I set the glass on the counter and popped the cork. I filled the glass and almost dropped the bottle. My phone was ringing. I quickly set the bottle down and ran to the living room picking up the phone. I didn’t even check the number before I answered. 

“Hello?” I answered almost out of breath.

“Hello, is this Y/n?” a female voice asked. I nodded but then remembered I was on the phone and quickly found my voice. 

“Yes, Ma’am, it is,” I answered her. She didn’t miss a beat. 

“Great, This is Lois Lane, with the Daily Planet. I understand this is a bit late on a Friday evening but do you have time to meet with me at the office tonight?” my mind raced trying to find the right words.

“Sure, I can be there in 15 minutes. If that’s alright?” I asked her. We agreed on the time and after I thanked her, the call ended.

I very quickly realized I was not in the proper attire for this meeting. I was in running shorts and a hoodie. I tore through my closet trying to find a pair of dress pants that would work. I found a simple white cotton top to pair them with and some flats and ran out the door. I fixed my messy bun in the apartment building's front doors before starting to walk. The Daily Planet’s main office was only a few blocks away.  I got it to the building just in time and made my way inside. 

At the front desk, I introduced myself and was directed up to the 4th floor for my meeting with Lois. I stepped on the elevator and pushed the button for my floor.  I was starting to shake from the nerves. When the doors opened I was met with a familiar face. Standing at a desk a few feet away Clark was standing talking to a woman with auburn hair and kind eyes. They both looked up when the elevator sounded. 

“Y/n,” He smiled. “I’m glad you could make it.” I smiled at him and the woman stood and turned to greet me. 

“Miss Y/n, I’m Lois Lane. It’s nice to meet you.” she offered a kind smile. I shook her hand and she gestured for me to sit with her at her desk. “As you’re aware you and others from Mr. Kent's journalism course at the university have been under review for an internship with the Daily Planet. I would have just called but Clark insisted for you to come into the office.” She chuckled softly. 

I looked up at Clark nervously, he squeezed my shoulder reassuring me. “Y/n,” Lois continued. “The Daily Planet would like to officially offer you the internship starting next week.” I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. 

“Thank you, Ms. Lane, I accept that offer. When do I start?” I asked, eagerly. She chuckled softly. 

“I’ll send you an email with all of the details on Monday. You should be able to start with us on Tuesday.” I nodded.  

“Thank you again,” I said. She nodded, giving me a smile. 

“Of course. We’re excited to work with you,” she stood and started to gather her things. “I apologize, I’m not trying to rush you out of here. I’ve got a date this evening I don’t want to be late for. Clark, can you walk her out?” Clark nodded waving to Lois as she already started to head toward the elevator. 

“Of course, I can, sorry for keeping you Lo, have fun tonight.”He winked. Lois rolled her eyes at him.

“Forever the gentleman,” she laughed, “ I’ll see you next week,” she said as the elevator doors closed behind her. 

“I told you we’d be working together soon!” Clark chuckled. I turned to face him but I couldn’t find the words. Without thinking I wrapped my arms around his middle hugging him. He was a bit surprised at first but he returned the hug. 

“Thank you,” I said softly. Remembering myself I pulled away quickly, my face flushed and embarrassed. “I-I’m so sorry, that was incredibly unprofessional. I-” Clark cut off my rambling. 

“It’s alright. You earned this. And you’re going to do amazing things here, I’m sure.” He squeezed my shoulder encouragingly. “Let me walk you out.” I nodded and waited while he got his jacket off of his desk chair. We rode down in the elevator together and walked out through the main lobby. “Where’d you park?” He asked, offering to walk me to my car. 

“Oh, um, I walked actually, I live close by,” I told him. Clark looked out the front doors and watched as rain was coming down outside. He frowned. 

“Could I give you a ride? Call me old school but I certainly can’t let you walk home in this rain.” 

I hesitated for a second. He looked back out at the rain and back to me, his eyes full of sincerity. 

“Uh, I mean, it’s really not far,” I argued. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. Just that my head was starting to get kindness and flirtation confused. I already embarrassed myself once with him today.

“It’s pouring rain, Y/n, it's no trouble I promise.” He countered. I gazed back outside. He was right, it had started to pour. I would be soaked just stepping out into it. Let alone walking all the way home. I looked back to Clark and nodded. 

“Okay,” I spoke softly. I watched as Clark pushed the door open and then opened up his umbrella. Of course, he was prepared. I look even more foolish now. 

“Come on,” He smiled. “There’s enough space for both of us under here.” He chuckled. He walked us out to his car and opened my door for me holding the umbrella while I got in so I wouldn’t get wet. 

It was quiet for a moment while he started the car. I had to remind myself again that just because a man is being nice doesn’t mean he’s interested. I looked over at him, his head turned back as he pulled out of the parking spot. I don’t know when I’d developed this little crush on him but it had to stop now. God, he was handsome though. His jaw was sharp, but his eyes were a soft but intense blue. His curls were dark and I found I desperately wanted to know what it felt like to drag my fingers through them. I shook my head. No, he’s my professor. He’s at least 15 years older than me. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. He surely didn’t see me that way. And we work together now. I have to be professional.

I pushed down my thoughts and focused, directing Clark to my apartment building. He paused abruptly when I pointed out the parking lot. He crooked an eyebrow his face completely surprised. 

“No, this is it? Really?” He asked.

“Uh… yeah” I answered hesitantly. Clark let out an awkward chuckle. 

“I’m sorry, It’s just funny. I live in the building too. I’m on the 5th floor.” He said. My brows raised completely shocked. 

“I’m on 3.” I stuttered. 

“I can’t believe we’ve never run into each other.” He laughed dumbfounded. We got out of the car. Clark met me with the umbrella. We took the elevator up together. 

“Have a great evening,” He started “I’ll see you next week,” He smiled. I blushed softly. 

“You too Clark,” I said as the elevator opened to my floor. 

“Oh and if you ever need a ride to work, Just let me know,” he winked. I giggled softly and waved as the doors closed. 

I’m royally fucked. 

I started with the Daily Planet the following Tuesday. I expected that they would have me refill copy machines or make coffee or file documents in the archives. I was shocked when I was given an assignment. It wasn’t in the field. It wasn’t going to be printed. But they told me if I wanted to eventually work for the planet then seeing how I handled personal assignments was key. It was due to Lois at the end of the week. Only 4 days to do research and write the article. I sat at my desk and poured over everything I could get my hands on. It felt a little lonely. My desk was farther away from the main writers and it was a bit smaller. But it would do. Clark and sometimes a few of the others would offer me to join them for lunch during the week but I usually skipped it. This was important. If I wanted to earn respect and make myself a place around here this had to be good. 

On Friday I was once again working at my desk, typing like mad trying to finish and edit my article. 

“You don’t have to work yourself so hard. You’ve already earned your spot you know?” Clark's voice said from somewhere next to me. 

“How many of your students have been hired on at the Planet after the internship Mr Kent?” I asked. He started to protest the question. Then he let out a deep sigh leaning against my desk. 

“Two,” He answered honestly. 

“I may have the internship, but I haven’t earned my place here.I have your respect but I have to earn it with the others,” I replied. He nodded, his eyes connecting with mine.

“Can you at least break for lunch?” He pleaded. 

“I’m going to eat at my desk. I’m almost finished. And this has to be done and on Lois’ desk by 2 pm. She leaves early today.” His eyes were sad but I knew he understood.  

I finished the article. I waited nervously at my desk waiting for Lois to call me over. 

“This is good,” she said when she finally did. “You have work to do,  I want to see how your research improves when you're out on the field. But for just starting, this is great.” She added. I nodded waiting for more. I knew she wasn’t finished. 

“Next week you’ll be coming with me, I’m doing expose research in Gotham, I want you to come to observe and take notes,” she stated. I nodded again. 

“I’ll be there, Thank…”

“Lois, Gotham’s dangerous you can’t take her with you.” Clark interrupted. Lois peered up at him over my shoulder. 

“Clark,” She sighed. “All due respect. You’ve taught her all you can in the classroom. But I’m her teacher now. And the best way to learn research is out in the field hands-on.” She retorted. 

“I’ll be with Lois, I’ll be okay,” I assured him. He wasn’t having it. 

“She won’t learn anything if she gets hurt. The crime rate in Gotham has skyrocketed it isn’t worth the risk. Does Perry know about this?” He asked. Lois scoffed. 

“As a matter of fact, he does. He’s already approved it.” she told him I don’t know what came over me. If I was angry that he was trying to stop me from going when this was my chance to earn my way in. Or if I was angry he thought I was weak. 

“And, I can take care of myself! I don’t need you hovering like I’m so fragile! You may have taught me but I got myself this far, Mr. Kent. We’ll be just fine.” I snapped. Clark stared dumbfounded. His mouth hung open, he was at a loss for words. Actually, everyone was staring. 

“Shows over,” Lois spoke loudly “You can all get back to work,”  she announced. I looked back at her apologetically. 

“Lois, I..” Clark started. She quickly cut him off. 

“Clark, I have to leave, I don’t have time for this. It’s settled she’s going,” She looked back at me, her eyes softer and sympathetic. “I’m out for the day, and you’ve finished your work, If you’d like to go now your welcome, I’ll see you Monday,”  she smiled. I nodded at her giving her a nervous smile. She turned then and walked out. 

“Y/N, please think about this. I don’t want you to get…”  He started. 

“I’m going to go, as well, Mr. Kent… I’ll see you next week.” I stood and walked to my desk grabbing my things. I walked past him to the elevator without another word.

Monday morning I was in the office early. Lois and I met at the office so she could debrief me before we left. She was interviewing with billionaire Bruce Wayne. He had connections all over Gotham, she wanted intel on any possible underground organized crime. I’ll admit it certainly was intense for my first time in the field. But it would be great practice. 

The city of Gotham was not nearly as wicked as Clark made it out to be. Mr. Wayne was amicable. He didn’t want to be there but he respected us so much as we respected him. The next few days we went back. We checked out some of the sources that Bruce had given. We got closer and closer to what she was looking for. Someone was definitely covering up organized crime in Gotham.  

Late Thursday night we were headed back to the car. It was almost 9:30 way past office hours at this point. But as Lois informed me. Good stories don’t live within the time clock. We were about to drive back and head home for the evening. We were only a few blocks away. I heard Lois scream from behind me. I turned back to look and felt myself being pulled backward. Someone had ahold of my arms dragging me off the sidewalk. 

“Let me go!” I demanded. Struggling in the stranger's grip. “Lois!” I called. 

“Shut up, what the hell are you bitches doing here?” a male voice asked. I heard Lois cry for help. I continued to struggle. 

“I’m not telling you anything. Let go of me. Someone HELP.” I screamed. Unable to break loose from the man’s hold. 

“Listen bitch! I told you to…Ungh”  The man grunted he fell back suddenly my arms slipping from his grip. I looked up my eyes going wide. Superman. He’d heard our screams. 

I watched as he took care of Lois’ attacker breaking her free. He spoke softly to her. His face looked almost…stern. She looked at him her eyes deeply apologetic. I couldn't hear what was being said. He patted her shoulder giving her a soft smile after she assured him she was okay. That I did here. 

“And you, are you okay?” He was on his feet now. He landed right in front of me. My eyes met his. They looked so familiar. I nodded. 

“You… saved me. I.. I don’t know how to thank you.” I stuttered. He smiled 

“It’s what I do. I’m just thankful I made it before you were hurt. Now please get home safe.” He added. I nodded still in shock. I felt Lois squeeze my shoulder and we walked back to the car. Superman hovered close watching to make sure we made it. Once we were inside he flew off. 

“Do you… know him?” I asked Lois suddenly. She paused looking at me. 

“We’ve met before. This job can be, dangerous at times. Can you handle that?” She asked. I thought for a moment. Could I? I couldn’t get myself out of this situation. But I didn’t back down either. Finally, I nodded. 

“Yes, I can,” I answered. 

“Good, now let's get home. We both could use some rest.” 

In the office the next day I was typing notes for Lois. I was back and forth at her desk all day. At one point I paused looking over at Clark. He looked exhausted. And stressed. He looked slightly disheveled. He was aggressively tapping at the keys on his keyboard. 

I approached him slowly. 

“Hey, are you alright, you look tired I can get you some coffee if you’d like,” I offered. He shook his head not looking away from his computer. 

“I’m fine Y/n, thank you.” he dismissed me. 

“Oh.. okay, if you need anything let me know,” I added before walking away. Normally I skipped lunch but I had time that day. I walked over to ask Clark to come with me. Again he dismissed me. I felt bad for the way I had treated him last week. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay between us. I stayed late that night typing up notes for Lois. When I shut down my computer, I noticed Clark was the only one still in the office. 

“Clark,” I spoke softly “It’s 5:30  do you need help?” I asked. He shut down his computer then.

“No, I’m just heading out now. Thank you for the offer.” He mumbled. I nodded. I turned and walked to the elevator. I rode down by myself to the first floor letting Clark cool off. If he didn’t want to talk I would give him his space. I walked out through the lobby pausing just inside the doors. Shit. It was raining again. I decided to walk this morning. It wasn’t supposed to rain. I heard the elevator ding and I groaned to myself seeing Clark exit. I gnawed at my lip anxiously, Praying the rain would suddenly let up.

“Hey,” I hear Clark's voice behind me. “Need a ride?” he asked nodding toward the door. 

“Uh… yeah, I walked this morning. Didn’t bring my umbrella. It wasn’t supposed to rain today.”  I answered awkwardly.  Clark opened the door opening his umbrella and just like the first time he took me home, we walked close sharing the protection from the rain. 

The ride home was quiet it was only a few blocks away. But when Clark pulled into the parking lot I could no longer take the silence. 

“Clark. What’s wrong?” I asked. He shook his head. “Don’t, don’t brush me off, what’s bothering you?” He got out of the car, slammed his door shut, and headed inside. I got out quickly running after him the rain immediately soaking me.  “Hey, I was talking to you!” I shouted. 

“Y/n STOP!” He turned around quickly the volume of his voice causing me to shrink back a little. “You wanna know what's bothering me? You. You, putting yourself in harm's way. You, trying so hard to prove yourself that you're being reckless. You almost got hurt because you had to make a point. You, because I can’t stop fucking thinking about you! And I’ve lost sleep all week worrying about your safety.” He stepped closer we were standing in the middle of the parking lot. “Because I couldn't bear the thought of someone even touching you.” my heart was racing his face was inches from mine. I could feel his breath on my face. “I don’t wanna see any bruises on this pretty face.” My breath hitched. 

“Clark,” I whispered. He grabbed my face crashing his lips to mine. I melted against him. The rain still fell hard around us. 

“Your so damn stubborn,” He mumbled between kisses. I wrapped my arms around his neck pulling him closer. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, breathless as I chased his lips for another kiss. He let out a breathy laugh. 

“Don’t be. You’re doing amazing. I knew you would be. Just be more careful.” I nodded. He took my hand pulling me inside. He pressed the elevator button frantically. I giggled. 

“Clark that’s not gonna make it get here any faster.” He chuckled. 

“Damn elevators.” Once inside he pushed the button for his floor and backed me up against the wall. His lips were back on mine, kissing me roughly. “Wanted this for so long.” He groaned. Kissing down my neck. The elevator doors opened. He took my hand again leading me to his apartment. 

He quickly unlocked the door and I followed him inside. I bit my lip waiting for him to make a move. I felt so shy all of a sudden. I wanted this but I was nervous. Clark lifted my chin so my eyes met his. 

“Stop me. If this isn’t what you want stop me, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.” I shook my head. 

“I want you Clark,” I whispered. His lips were on mine again. Sweeter this time. More slow. He felt his hand move down my neck and over my chest softly squeezing my breast. I moaned leaning into the touch. “Clark please,” I whined. He stepped back peeling off his wet shirt. I did the same. We left a trail of wet clothes all the way to the bedroom. Clark laid me down on the bed crawling between my thighs. Kissing them softly. 

“So beautiful.” He groaned before swiping his tongue between my folds. I gasped. He circled my clit with his tongue and then back down dipping it inside me. His groan was feral. 

“Fuck.” I moaned. He worked his tongue in and out of me while I worked my hips against his face. I tangled my fingers in his curls holding him close. His nose rubbed against my clit has he fucked me with his tongue. “m’  gonna.”  I moaned as I came on his tongue. He lapped it all up before pulling away. 

“So good sweetheart.” He kissed up my body, kissing my lips and letting me taste myself. Finally he settled between legs pushing inside of me slowly. He let out a low moan. 

“ So big,” I whimpered. He brushed my hair out of my face kissing me softly. 

“Doing so good for me sweetheart. Almost all the way in. You can take it all baby.” He moaned. With one last push he was fully seated inside me. “You feel amazing baby. Taking me so well.” He cooed letting me adjust. 

“Clark please.” I whined. Begging him to move. He pulled out slowly, until just the tip was inside me and then plunged back in. I let out a loud moan. 

“Feel good sweetheart?” He asked. I nodded. 

“So good, Clark, Fuck, I moaned as he started to thrust into me at a steady pace. He grabbed my hand pinning it to the mattress. He picked up his pace. I felt the knot build in my stomach. 

“You’re getting close aren’t you baby?” he asked. I nodded. Letting out a strangled moan. 

“Please.” I begged. 

“So polite.” he groaned. He pressed his thumb to my clit as he fucked me rubbing in circles. I felt my toes curl and I came hard squeezing him as he fucked me through my orgasm. “Thats it sweetheart. Fuck. Gonna make me. Ungh.” He groaned cumming inside me. We were both breathless laying there for a moment. Clark pulled out slowly. And pulled me into him.

“You okay?” He smiled kissing my cheek. I nodded. 

“Mhmm” I mumbled dreamily. Clark got up and came back with a cloth to clean us both up. Then got back into bed holding me close. 

“Clark?” I asked softly. 

“Hmm?” he hummed. 

“Were you ever gonna tell me… or were you just gonna let me figure it out?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“Because no one else knows what happened in Gotham Superman,”  I smirked turning in his arms. 

“How did you…?” He asked. 

“I’ve had a crush on you for a while. I’d know your eyes anywhere.” I said blushing. 

“Hmm,” he chuckled. “You have a crush on me?” He asked. 

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[pinkslaystation]

Tulips or Roses?

John Price x reader

In which you find John's old diary detailing his love for you his teammate and you begin to question his love for you. Word Count: 3.6k -> blurb - rose meets tulips

Being a civilian to a soldier was hard enough.

And it was even harder when your husband was a commander for one of the most skillful task force. So it wasn't unusual for him to be gone for long periods of time.

So on a random Friday evening, anticipating his arrival in the coming week, vacuuming the floors, cleaning the windows, you found yourself at the door of John's study, with was decorated with a glass name plate, with the words 'Study' accompanied with a painted heart created from blue and pink fingerprints from you and your husband.

John was never the man to tell you off if you entered his study, instead he encouraged it. He's beckoned you to bring him his evening tea to him, to give him a massage, sometimes when you wanted him, he'd allow you to help him under the desk, if you get what I mean. (speaking from experience ;>)

As you stepped into his room, you noticed the ceilings adorned with sizable white cobwebs, cringing at the apparent neglect of his study. When was the last time someone had even been here?

Sweeping his desk, wiping away the dust, you find a box underneath beside his chair, which prompted you to lifting it up and placing on top of the desk. Man, you underestimated it's weight. You struggled to lift a small but heavy moving box, and it caused a few books and papers to fall out.

You cursed at your clumsiness, picking up the loose sheets, until you fingers caught the spine of a red vintage-like book, which had the word 'diary' written on the front. You didn't take too much notice, skimming through the pages until you caught your name being mentioned a phew times.

You giggle, it's a diary probably with John confessing his love to you numerous time! You know you probably shouldn't look through it, I mean privacy exists, but you just can't help it.

So you look through some of the infrequent entries, the oldest dating back to 10 years back, and the most recent one being nearly 4 years, when you and John had first met.

30th February 2010

Suffering in Afghanistan, the lads and I are stuck in the safe house for a week now. Rose is here too, I should ask her if she's okay.

Ahhh you remember this story. When the Task Force was stuck in the city of Kandahar, in the safe house. You also remember John's team, whom you are well-acquainted with, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Roach, Rose?

You skip through the boring entries, most of which are just John documenting his work-out plan and the places him and his team had visited.

5th July 2016

Gaz's going on and on about his lass. Someone tell him to talk to her at least, he doesn't even know her name! I keep bringing it up but he keeps mentioning when I'll talk to Rose.

You chuckled, assuming the chick was Gaz's current wife. But the last part caught your attention, Rose again? You remember John telling you that she'd retired, went back north to settle with her family now, so you don't think much of it, I mean they are team mates.

19th June 2017

Saw a cute kid and her mama, wishing I had kids, without this lifestyle. Rose wants a son but I don't particularly mind. Soap overheard our conversation and spammed me lols on Whatsapp, but I thought lol meant little old lady? I am a man though.

You raise your eyebrow at another mention of Rose, why doesn't he care if Rose wanted a son? You didn't realise how close your husband was to her.

2nd December 2018

Christmas this month with my boys. Rose invited me over for a smoke. Ghost rolls his eyes when I mentioned it to him, says I need to man up and make a move.

You squinted your eyes, rereading the entry, and hesitantly skipping to the next one.

7th April 2019

Drinks with my men (and Rose haha, she doesn't like being part of the men). It's her birthday and she wants to tell us something. She's got her red lips again. I'm excited, Soap kept nudging me the entire ride, that cheeky bugger.

Then immediately below it, an update: She's seeing someone.

You're slowly piecing the puzzle, though you don't want to assume anything.

21st August 2019

She came into my room crying, seems like it's not going well, good for me. I hope she's okay and she realises there's better fish in the sea. She hugged me, she smells like roses, I love floral scents. I tried leaning in, she says I'm like an older brother to her.

Your heart breaks a bit, sniffing at your freshly washed hair, which smelt like ... like roses.

You thought floral scents were YOUR thing.

You continued, to the next entry which was marked the date you remember meeting John for the first time at the pub. You force a smile, hoping the entry would lighten your mood.

30th November 2020

In the pub and bored. Rose brought her lad... they're back together. What does she see in him? Soap urges me to find someone else but my heart is set on someone, for a long time. Won't change. He keeps gesturing to a girl on the other end of the counter, she's pretty, but like a tulip. Not like a rose. Not like my Rose.

You grip at the notebook and you try your hardest not to rip the papers out of the book and set his entire study on fire.

You remember this day, when you were dragged to the pub by your friends after being dumped by your ex for another girl. You sat at one end of the counter, with tears in your eyes but one look at that buff Englishman on the other end and your mood flipped instantaneously, 180 degrees.

"Kelsey, look at that guy, Mr Army over there." You beckon towards John's direction, to your friend., slightly tipsy after a peg of beer.

Your friend looks at you with a raised eyebrow, then turns to the guy whose piqued your interest, "You should go for it." She encourages you.

So you get yourself 2 drinks and approach the guy, more confident that usual due to your alcoholic state. A beer would do.

"Hi, this seat empty?" You smile at him innocently.

All this time you had recalled a look of fondness towards you, when he'd first locked eyes with you. You remember bragging about how it had been love at first sight for the both of you, but thinking back, a feeling of doubt starts bubbling inside you.

"It's reserve- you know what. Take a seat."

You remember sitting next to him, passing him a drink, and telling him your name, "...and you are?" you question, although you see him wincing. At first you thought it was just an army thing, so guarded that even the slightest of movements would make him twitch.

But now you're questioning whether he really wanted to engage into a conversation with you.

The following hours, as you painfully recall, was filled with you talking about yourself and occasionally asking him after his life, though he gives you one word answers and frequent nods.

But that was just because he'd just come home from a mission right?

"...and he just broke up with me out of the blue! Like was my 12,000 followers on TikTok not good enough for you?" You chuckle, attempting to crack a joke. He smiles confused, and you note he's probably too old to understand what TikTok was.

"Sounds like an asshole, love." He replies.

"Hmm, he was...I- I just don't know what he'd leave me for her...like I gave you my everything, I was always with you through thick and thin and what, that wasn't enough for you?" You trail off, the effects of the 2nd beer hitting you.

"I understand dove, you just give 'em everything and they just find someone else. What does he have that I don't?" He spaces out, his eyes falling on his teammates sitting at a different table. You follow his gaze, smiling slightly when you lock eyes with one of his smirking subordinates, whom you know know as Soap.

"Those people, they're your team?" You question.

His eyes aren't on you though as he responds, "That mohawk, that's Soap, Ghost next to him, tough as steel but soft at heart, Gaz on the opposite, funny lad, Roach, good ol' Roach..."

You look at the woman to the right of 'Roach', taking in her beauty. Though she's sitting down, you can tell she's taller that you by least 4 inches, with a blonde pixie haircut and painted with a dark smokey eye. A deep smirk is plastered onto her plump ruby red lips as she looks at John Price finally talking to a woman that isn't her. She raises a hand, waving to the both of you, which is almost instantaneously reciprocated by John.

"And her?" You ask, head nudging towards the woman.

"Her...That's Rose. You should meet her, you would like her, but who doesn't..." His chuckle fades out and you at how his attention was fully directed to her. A sinking feeling told you that you should have backed off from the married man, but it disappeared when John pointed out her partner, with gritted teeth.

Your hands are gripping the pages at this point, as you recall memories from the diary from his point of view.

You turn the page to the next entry, dreading the words.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub, I'm once again unfamiliar with the lingo, I'm not Simon?? She's nice but, not sure I see anything further than a friendship. Gaz and him are picking out an outfit for me, she wants to meet up for bowling apparently. I just want to be with Rose...

Clenching your fist, you shut the diary and toss it aside, feeling all kinds of emotions. Upset that John had never truly looked at you the way you'd looked at him. The way he never wanted you, like you wanted him.

Every time you'd seen him online on Whatsapp, but still hadn't opened your messages, he was ghosting you? Sure after a while of being friends, his behaviour gradually changed, accompanied with rapid texts, but you felt like this relationship was built on lies.

Did he even want to go bowling with you that day? Did you win because he purposely let you, because he was bored and wanted to go home, be with Rose instead? When he asked you to be his girlfriend, did he ask you with Rose in mind?

The ding of the oven stopped your trail of thoughts, so many questions swirling around your head. You walk out of the study, slamming the door behind you, the combined mess of dust and cobwebs remaining untouched.

The glass name plate falls to the ground, the edge shattering, with shards of clear glass laying dangerously on the wooden floor.

A couple of hours go by and the doorknob rattles at 8:45 P.M. on the dot. John was never late when he had to come home to you.

He reaches base at 7:30, drives exacting an hour to your shared home, after making a quick pit stop at the florists within 10 minutes to give you a freshly scented bouquet of red roses.

Roses. So that's why he'd give them you every time...

He makes sure to leave him 5 minutes of spare time, which was designated to flipping open a small metal notebook you'd gifted him, and writing his thoughts down. And once those 5 minutes were up, he places the notepad back into his jacket pocket and practically runs towards the front door.

"Dove, I'm home!" He exclaimed, gently placing his belonging on the floor, before walking into the living floor, where you sat on the sofa with your legs and arms crossed. (MY BITCH POSE IS NASTY)

"Sweetheart, you didn't run up to me at the door, you alright love?" He sits next to you, his calloused and freshly bruised arms rubbing your knee.

The silence was deafening and you couldn't find it in yourself to look at him after all you've read.

He takes it as a cue to continue, "I got you some roses, baby. Your favourite-"

"When did I say they were my favourite?"

John blinks at the interruption, "I mean, you don't like them? It's tradition to bring the same red roses for you every time I'm back..."

"And when did I say I liked them? Are they my favourite? Or are they her favourite?" You shift towards him, anger evident in your voice.

"Her? Who? Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I mean, come on man, you like floral shit that much that now you're making me wear it?"

"You...don't like floral scents? Did you want tulips instead, baby?"

Your eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance by his confusion.

"It doesn't matter if I wanted tulips, John, it's the fact that YOU like roses. In fact you've like Roses this entire time! Don't act like you like tulips 'cos you don't- to be honest I don't think you ever have!" You rant, handing running through your hair.

"I mean I like both honey, roses are just, um, prettier?" He sounds like he's asking you rather than telling you.

"Of course roses are prettier to you- that's all that you're fucking used to you. It's always roses, roses, roses. You're so obsessed with fucking roses, you never gave tulips a bloody chance!"

"Are we still talking about flowers-"

"And when you do give tulips a chance, you're still thinking about roses- how red they are, how pretty they are, how they need to be watered every 5 fucking minutes, even then there's already someone to water those damn. Red. Roses."

"I- I mean I like tulips too, baby-"

"No. You don't. No, you don't. Tulips are just the safest options for you, cos someone already plucked out those fucking roses. Cos roses don't want you."

You're standing up now, and John's attempts to speak are futile with every sentence you shout.

"No. In fact, roses has never wanted you, roses look better with someone else, and ol' poor John has no more roses, so he goes and waters some unwanted tulips instead!"

John stands up, towering over your shaking frame, his hands come up to stroke your biceps, but he's pushed away.

"I mean, did John ever even like tulips? Or was he faking it cos he never got roses? Was tulips just the safe option? Does John still want roses after all the years tulips have been there for him?"

You left out a pained cry, you didn't even notice the tears leaking out of your eyes.

"Does John even like tulips? Does John even love tulips?"

His hands wipe your tears away, and he brings you into his chest, and you don't attempt to push him away this time.

"Does you even love me, John?" You break down into his arms, letting him carrying you into the bedroom, where he places you gently on the bed, while you hiccup through your uneven sobs. He smells the stench of wine through your shaking breath, whilst stroking your hair, and you slowly fall into a deep slumber with your head pressed against his still uniform-clad chest.

The clock hits midnight and John gets up, trying not to wake you up, grabbing his sweats from the drawer and walking to the bathroom across the hall, in order to not wake you up, from what looked like a well-needed rest.

As he trudges out of the bedroom and through the corridor, the reflection of the broken glass catches his eyes and he squints in the darkness, squatting down to pick a small shard. As he lifts the remains of the nameplate, hooking it back to the door, he steps over the mess into the study to retrieve a dust pan and brush.

Flicking the lights on, he's met with what looks like a scene from the reality TV show - Hoarders. So starts cleaning quickly, picking up the duster and bunching up the paperwork from the floor, the pot of pens that had seemed to be knocked down, the diary he'd used to write in...hold on-

Picking up the diary, John flicks through the entries, the book naturally opening to the last open slide.

He begins reading the last entry.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub....

"Oh...my tulip, I've never loved roses as much as I loved you." He mumbles to himself, whilst simultaneously cringing at his previously written words, immediately throwing the book back on the floor.

It's past breakfast when you wake up, throat and eyes painfully dry from last night's crying session, forcing yourself to drag yourself to the bathroom. You've forgotten that John had come home last night, as your met with a familiar empty bed.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you walk downstairs, being face to face with the naked back of Captain John Price.

The smell of chocolate pancakes waft towards your nose, as you look around the kitchen, the room garnished with a variety of different flowered bouquets, with so many variations of plants.

Bundles of dahlias and lotuses, orchids and lilies, carnations and irises, roses and tulips.

John turns to your footsteps, smiling at his perfect woman.

"Baby, good mornin'" He greets you, placing a single rose into your hair, and pecking your forehead warmly.

"John, listen about last night-"

"It was the old diary, wasn't it?" he asks.

You nod, ashamed for your abrupt behaviour yesterday. John lifts your chin up, resting his forehead against yours.

"Rose never taught me how to love like you did."

"John, you don-" His pointer finger is pressed against your lips.

"Reading those words from the past, I can see how it may have painted a different picture of my feelings. But let me assure you, my love, that you are the one I adore with all my heart."

Your stroke his face, heart warming to his words.

"Every rose I brought home was a symbol of my love for you, not because it was her favorite, but because it reminded me of the beauty and grace that you bring into my life. And those tulips, they represent the new beginnings and the fresh start that we share together.

My love for you is unwavering and unconditional. You are my tulip, my true love, and I vow to cherish and adore you for all eternity. Please forgive me for any pain or doubt my past words may have caused."

"John..."

He hands you his notepad from from his back pocket, beckoning you to open it.

You look at the first entry.

19th February 2021

I mentioned how I journal sometimes to her, and she bought me a new notepad, it's cute how she calls it a diary. Things are looking good. Bowling's our thing, I let her win because seeing her smile means I've won too. I'm asking her out tonight, Soap cried real tears when I told him.

You turn the page.

20th July 2021

Our 6 month anniversary. Took her to a field of roses and tulips, though nothing compares to her beauty.

The next one.

17th September 2021

I seldom think of Rose, I have my tulip on my mind now. Rose retired, and the team celebrated last night. She hugged me and thanked me for being a good captain. She also acknowledged my previous feelings for her. Man that was uncomfortable, but I reassured her I'm with my tulip now. I love my tulip.

I've always preferred tulips anyway.

And the next.

5th July 2022

Our 500 day anniversary. I want to propose.

17th September 2022

She said yes!! She may be my fiance, but I've already started calling her my wife, not legally yet at least...illegally?

28rd December 2023

We married 30th November. The day we met. Xmas was amazing, I can't see myself with anyone but her. I'm getting deployed tomorrow though.

You look at the most recent entry, dated last night.

16th February 2024

Missed the valentines day with my missus. Hope these roses are enough, though I wanted to get something better. Tulips for my tulip. They ran out haha. Missed my girl, missed her like I've never missed someone before. Soap's right, deployment suck.

Tears welled up in your eyes, not from pain or doubt this time, but from overwhelming joy and love for the man standing before you.

"I'm sorry, John," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to doubt your love."

He smiled, a genuine and heartfelt smile that reached his eyes, pulling you into a warm embrace. "No need for apologies, my tulip. Thank you for teaching me how to love."

And in that moment, amidst the scent of chocolate pancakes and fresh flowers, it felt like you love story was just beginning, filled with trust, forgiveness, and a deep, unwavering love for each other.

That should not have taken me 2 days to complete what in the world. Also if i was tulip, that old diary is going straight into a fire! Barbecue anyone? <3 Quick Notes: I head-cannoned Rose to look like Sergeant Calhoun from Fix-it-Felix lolololol woman crush fr i get u john boy I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

[kykyonthemoon]

The Day You Were Destined To Be His Caretaker

The cat café you frequent allows customers to adopt cats, and you are thrilled to be a cat caretaker. The fluffy fellow you bring home, though, seems to be more than simply a cat.

── .✦ Character x Female Reader|MC

Included parts in order: Rafayel - Xavier - Zayne - Sylus

♡︎. Tags: Alternate Universe, therianthropy (cat/human hybrids), fluff, soft and sweet, caring, cat cafés.

♡︎. Word count: 4k1

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - currently closed.

── .✦ Ky Ky’s notes:

This story was inspired by Yes, Cat Caretaker version & Meow Time event. It is my entry to the Love and Deepspace Cat Caretaker Assembly - Fan Art Contest.

I really appreciate all your support on my X <3

References to their cat breeds: x

Rafayel - The playful cat

That day, you traveled to a common cat café by the shore. There were many cats at the café that had been adopted by customers. You hoped that you would find one to become your companion too. Then, you met him.

The cafe's largest treehouse at the time featured a little, curly-furred Devon Rex on the top floor. You had no idea how he climbed up there, because unsteady legs made it obvious that he was frightened of heights. His big round eyes scanned the world madly before closing. You were the only one who listened to his tiny meows.

You hurried over, held up your hands to the cat, and said:

“Come down here. I will catch you.”

"Meow?"

He opened his eyes and gave you a serious look. He still did not seem to have much faith in you. This was a cat you had never seen at the café before. Perhaps he was brought here by the owner recently.

“It'll be okay,” you said once again in a gentle and reassuring tone. A staff member approached you and said:

“This cat has been mischievously climbing up there again. It's obvious that he's afraid of heights, yet he just likes to crawl up there. We don't know why. Please give us a moment so we can take him down.”

“No need,” You replied. “I'll give it a shot. Is that okay?”

After giving you a nod, the staff moved aside to observe your attempts to get the cat down. You stood on your tiptoes and your raised arms felt weary. But you always smiled and comforted the cat.

“It's okay. I'll always wait for you down here!"

After pondering for a while, the cat decided to jump down. He rushed into your arms. Immediately, you hugged the small soft cotton ball tightly. From that day on, he followed you home. 

You had never owned a cat before, so in the first few days, you were very tired of having to chase him around the house. What surprised you so much was that while you failed to think of a good name for him, one morning when you woke up, you caught the cat with your pile of old crayons. He had written on a piece of paper the name Rafayel.

Although you found it strange, you decided to call the cat by that name. After a long day at work, Rafayel enjoyed wrapping himself around your feet whenever you got home. However, he was also so mischievous that while you were away, the house was usually in disarray. You once took Rafayel to plant trees in the garden. He enjoyed playing freely, chasing frogs, and catching butterflies there. He was so eager to assist you with digging that he even dove into a pot of dirt, getting his fur all soiled in the process. You laughed while feeling sorry for him at the same time.

“Look! I've just planted a meowing tree.”

Then, you grabbed him by his scruff and took him to the bathroom.

“You're so playful. You got dirt all over your fur now."

You put Rafayel in the tub and turned on the shower. Abruptly, a thin stream of smoke spread across the room. After a moment, your cat was out of sight as the haze gradually cleared. Rather, a man with purple eyes who looked exactly like Rafayel was sitting in the tub.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" You let out a loud scream. “YOU PERVERT! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY CAT?!”

To your surprise, you tumbled to the bathroom floor while defending yourself with the showerhead turned on. Water splashed onto the man's bare chest. He tried to use his hand to shield the water from the shower and finally decided to reach over and turn it off. You were the focus of his teary eyes. He seemed somewhat distressed.

"Who are you calling a pervert? You've been dragging me into bed with you every night for the past few days, as you can see! Just now, you even wanted to give me a bath!”

"Huh???"

“It's me. Rafayel.” He said, pointing with one hand to the ears on his head and the tail peeking out from inside the bathtub. "Do you no longer recognize me, my lady?"

“R-Rafayel?”

“Yes… Meow?”

Although you had heard tales about therianthropes coexisting with humans, you never ventured to think that the cat you had taken in was one of them! For a moment, you were unsure of what to do, and could only mumble to yourself: "Refund... I want a refund... Obviously the café staff gave me the wrong cat..."

“What? Do you want to send me away?” Leaning toward the bathtub's edge to be nearer to you, Rafayel scowled. You always knew that therians had their own charm, but meeting such a picturesque person was beyond your imagination.

He continued to sulk: "The person who just promised to take good care of me for the rest of my life, now wants to throw me away?"

To be fair, you had said that to the Devon Rex, not to the charming curly-haired boy in front of you. You wanted a cat to keep you company, yet ended up with a half-cat, half-human sullen man. You stood up, intending to get out and figure out how to deal with this later, but Rafayel swiftly grabbed your wrist and dragged you into the bathtub with him. 

“Are you really going to leave me? Once you've made a promise to me, you cannot go back on it! Even if you wish to get rid of me, it's already too late! You're stuck with me, no matter what!"

Xavier - The super cat

There was a recent event at the local cat café to allow patrons to adopt cats. The requirement was to be selected by that feline and capable of caring for the little animal companion. It was ideal because you had been searching for a pet to care for. There was only one problem: the cat you had your eye on was the most famous character at the café.

He was a Ragdoll named Xavier, with large, wide blue eyes and silky fur. Ever since he showed up at the café a few days earlier, had been the talk of the town, the "prince" that everyone wanted to take home. However, Xavier showed no concern for the customers. Because he disliked being touched, he typically slept in the treehouse. There were times when you found the cat snarling at others that you had just fed or petted. He would then approach and rub his head on your hand.

At times like that, you could not help but pick up the cat, place him in your lap, and caress that soft belly. Instead of displaying any signs of distress, the cat even purred to indicate how at ease he was. You pondered why none of the other cats dared approach you whenever Xavier was by your side.  Then, the café owner congratulated you that he had chosen you as his caretaker, and that you could go through the adoption process right away.

You set up a cozy mattress for the cat next to the bed on the first night you brought Xavier home. Unconcerned, he sprang into the bed, climbed into your cozy cover, and requested to lay next to you. No matter how many times you scooped him up, Xavier still climbed onto the bed. Eventually, you gave in and let him sleep with you on the bed.

After a few days, Xavier got used to his new life with you. Whether it was night or day, he slept a lot, ate a lot and rarely went out. Additionally, he had a keen sense of other animals' smells. For instance, before going home one day, you went to pet the neighbor's cat. Xavier did not even bother coming to the door to greet you anymore but sat huddled in the corner.

“Xavier?” You called, but your cat did not respond.

You purposefully consoled Xavier by placing the bag of newly purchased cat toys on the table and bringing them out one at a time. However, he simply turned away from you and seemed to be sulking a lot while staring out the window.

"I apologize... I promise not to let another cat touch me next time." You said, taking note of Xavier's demeanor. His ears turned in the direction of your voice, albeit he did not move an inch. “Even the dog next door, the squirrel on the way home, the birds…”

You thought Xavier would be angry and ignore you for good, but when you curled up in the blanket and dozed off, you felt the bed sink. Your hand went to the area beside you. Were you dreaming? Because it was not a cat that you touched. 

The hand belonged to someone else. That person's warmth was quite familiar, and there was a hint of the cat fragrance you sometimes used for Xavier. You attempted to see closer by opening your heavy eyelids. The muscular, exposed chest of someone stood before you. On occasion, he would even softly rub his cat ears on your cheek and nuzzle down on your neck. He draped his tail over your body. It was an all too familiar dream. Since you had picked up Xavier, it felt as though you were having this same scenario every night.

You started paying more attention to Xavier and suspected that your cat may be a therianthrope. Nevertheless, you lacked any hard proof until one day.

The treehouse set you bought a few days before arrived that day. After some effort, you were able to put most of the components together. The top floor was quite high, so you had to find a ladder and climb up. You put everything together and then turned to face Xavier. His tail was still up in the air, and he was still absorbed in the cardboard boxes in the center of the home.

“Xavier? Do you think the treehouse is good now?"

Xavier turned around and looked up at you. From above, it felt like he was just the size of your palm. So small, so adorable. You climbed down the ladder, but it was so unsteady that you slipped. 

“Ouch!” 

You felt like you were falling down with the tilting ladder. You might end up on the cat. Yet, Xavier vanished in an instant. Rather, powerful arms seemed to hold you up, embraced you, and you both collapsed upon the unkempt pile of boxes.

"Meow!"

You stared down at the person underneath you while holding your body up with your arms. These perked ears, this tail covering your legs, even those blue eyes that were gazing at you with affection... You were quite familiar with all of these.

Was it the therian you saw every night in your dreams?

"Xavier? 

He gave you a worried expression. 

“My lady, are you okay?”

“You… You really are… a…”

You were unable to convey how you were feeling at the time—confused, anxious, mixed with a little joy. 

“Hmm?” Xavier glanced at you and blinked. “It's me. Your Xavier.”

“But you… you're a cat…”

While surprised, you saw his face getting closer and closer as he sat up and said to you: "I am a cat. I am also human. My lady, which shape of mine do you prefer?"

Zayne - The cat maid

Lately, you had got the impression that the furniture in the home had sprouted legs on its own and everything was more neat than before.

At first, you assumed it was because you were absent-minded or careless. Despite the fact that you did nothing, your house gradually grew cleaner and tidier. Not only that, but there was always warm water in the kettle when you returned home from work.

You suspected the house was haunted, but this ghost was really a considerate one! You had just recently moved to this cold, snowy mountainside town for work. Being busy with work had left you with no time to rearrange your stuff, and you frequently were ill because you were unaccustomed to the weather. Thus you were quite thankful to someone who came to clean up and care for you discreetly. Without a doubt, the landlord never paid you a visit, and the neighbors saw no one else entering or exiting your home. How strange!

"Hey, do you think our house has a… ghost?" You questioned the large gray and black cat, who was proudly patrolling the home. When he saw you, he lifted his tail and let out a "meow".

You recently adopted this Maine Coon cat. With his significant size and lengthy fur, he provided you with warm comfort while you were alone in this strange, frigid region. You encountered the cat outside a café. The owner stated that stray cats frequently came in looking for food, and if they liked a customer, they would most likely accompany them home. At that moment, your Maine Coon was outside. Snow dropped all over his luxurious fur. He continued to stare at you for a long time. After a time, you decided to walk out to greet him and share with him some of your food.

The cat was not seeking for food, just gently rubbed its head against your palm. He even gently bit you, causing you to cry, "Ouch!" 

Only then did you realize that the cat's two front limbs were covered with overlapping scars. You did not scold him and softly massaged his head and ears.

“You're also having a hard time finding food, right? Do you want to come home with me?”

The cat's distinctive blue and yellow eyes flickered briefly. He followed you home. Sometimes you questioned if he was just a cat or a therianthrope. He gave you the sense that he was actually a person. However, the cat never turned into a human. Back in the home, he rubbed his soft hairy head on your face.

"Alright," you laughed because it was ticklish. "If you see someone else entering the house while I'm away, definitely don't let them run away again."

The cat purred gently. You had to put the investigation on hold for a while to focus on your work. Still, there was one time when you forgot your documents at home, you returned at noon and discovered someone was inside the house.

You moved carefully into the living room. A massive cat tail stood out straight and swung gently behind the sofa. You realized it was your Maine Coon's tail. You called softly:

"Zayne?"

Two cat ears emerged behind the sofa. But this was not the Zayne cat you knew.

The face stared at you both strange and somewhat familiar. His pupils, which resembled your cat's, widened in astonishment. You were shocked when that person stood up straight since he was so tall. He was attired in your black apron with white ruffled edges, carrying a feather duster in one hand and a pile of old books and newspapers you had thrown haphazardly under the sofa.

The person who helped you clean every day had revealed his face. The only thing was, you could not believe that it was really your cat.

“Z-Zayne?!”

The tail behind him whipped vigorously. You were not unfamiliar with therians living alongside humans, especially in this town. However, this was the first time you had seen your cat being... no longer a cat. You were deeply perplexed.

You suddenly realized that you had been living with a therian for some days without knowing anything. You carelessly cuddled him and let him sleep with you in bed. You felt so embarrassed. As a result, after that, Zayne sat crouched on the floor and listened to you scolding him for not giving you his true identity from the very beginning.

"I'm sorry…" Zayne responded. He looked up to you, who was now sitting on the sofa. One of his hands paused before placing it on your thigh. He pulled his face closer and longed to rub against you, precisely as when he was in cat shape, yet he was also concerned that you would push him away. "I wanted to tell you before, but I didn't know how to say it so you wouldn't be afraid or detest me."’

Why did he assume you would fear or despise him because he was a therian? You examined him intently, seeking for any remaining Maine Coon features. Dust had left a smear on his angular face. Unexpectedly, you put out your hand to wipe it away. Zayne saw your gesture as a sign of peace. He immediately rubbed his face into your palm.

"Eh…" You were about to withdraw your hand, but his adorable expression made you reconsider. You still didn't appreciate being lied to, and you felt taken advantage of during the last few days. You delicately squeezed his cheek before using both hands to play with his face as compensation.

Zayne appeared miserable, yet he patiently let you play with him. Looking down, you noticed his velvety tail wrapped around your leg. After you were done, he spoke up:

“There will be a snowstorm soon. You're not going to kick me out, are you?” 

“Hmmm. Let's see.” 

You gave a thoughtful pose.. Zayne could not wait any longer before continuing:

“I can clean the house. I can also cook.”

You pondered briefly before pointing to his cat ears. "Can I touch your ears?"

In cat shape, Zayne frequently refused to let you touch his ears. You must take advantage of this opportunity. 

Zayne stared at you for a while. He reluctantly leaned closer to you. One of his ears shifted slightly before your eyes.

“If you allow me to stay here then… All right.”

Sylus - The cat's return

One afternoon, you went to a cat café in a small, wild mountainside village. You had recently moved here for work and had no idea where to go because you were unfamiliar with the streets. You had just heard from a neighbor about the café and stray cat shelter, so you decided to check it out.  

The cats were originally aloof from you, but after an afternoon, they became closer to you. Many cats allow you to scratch their heads and rub their tummies. Most of the cats here were stray; some were abandoned by their prior owners, while others were frequently injured when fighting wild creatures. Seeing how well you cared for the cats, the owner invited you to return here on a daily basis to play with and care for them. You could even bring one home if you wished to.

That day, you went to the café when the cats were eating dinner. The owner had prepared their meal. You watched them eat to their hearts' content, discreetly checking attendance and selecting which kitty to bring home with you. All of a sudden, in the far corner was a caracal cat whose size stood out among the crowd. He was pushing the other cats away and taking their food.

The little cats started to fuss. You stepped over and retrieved the bowl of food for the cat who was wailing in your arms. The caracal cat glanced at you. His eyes were crimson; the abnormal kind of red. He was growling even. You grasped the tiny cat and moved away from him.

The caracal cat gave you a furious look. You spotted him heading towards the other cats, attempting to get more food. Letting out a sigh, you entered the café to ask for another meal.

When you returned, the caracal cat was there at the entrance. It was as if he knew you were going to bring out more food. You placed the bowl on the porch.

“Here you go. Don't steal other cats' food anymore, okay?”

The caracal cat glanced at you for a time before starting to devour his meal. When he was done, he proudly strolled over to where you were seated to enjoy the cool air with a few other cats on your lap. The cats fled away as soon as they noticed him. You felt sad for him having to face such isolation, but considering how he had just taken the other cats' food, you could sympathize with them.

The caracal cat rubbed against your thigh. You patted his head for a while. He seemed quite nice now, not as intimidating as he did when battling for food. Since then, you constantly brought him an additional meal. Of course, he grew more devoted to you. One day, you questioned the café owner: 

"Why doesn't the caracal cat outside have a bowl of his own?"

The owner slowly replied:

“The one that you always feed? He's a wild animal. He doesn't live with us here.”

"Huh?…"

"He always comes to the café to fight other cats for food," the owner went on. "We left him alone since we couldn't drive him away. Other than eating a little too much and scaring other cats here, he doesn't cause any trouble. But he appears to really like you. Have you considered adopting him?"

The café owner's urgent eyes seemed to be begging you to take this scrounger away as soon as possible. All you could do was chuckle. Through the window, the caracal cat's ruby eyes were still watching over you.

The fact that he would truly follow you home was unexpected.

“Hey, go back to your place. You can't stay here.” 

You chased the caracal cat away. Yet he kept coming back the next day, and the day after that. He spent the entire night prowling around your house. One time when it was raining cats and dogs, as you considered how lonely he must be spending all night outside, you felt quite sorry for him. You opened the door to find him on the porch, sheltering from the rain, his fur partly wet, and he was licking his wounds.

“Come inside,” you said to the caracal cat. His injuries must have resulted from fighting with wild animals. With the intention of taking him to the veterinarian the next morning, you left him in the living room and went to get some bandages. Yet when you came back, he was gone.

There was a noise in the bedroom so you went to check. You caught a glimpse of a caracal cat's tail inside. you were to find a towering man with ears and a caracal cat tail on your bed, countless wounds covered his body. Panicked, you quickly grabbed the clothes hanger, which was the closest thing you could reach for protection.

“Hey?… Mister?…” You called out, using the clothes hanger to poke at that person's body. His eyes, which were as brilliant crimson as two precious gems, opened slightly.

“A therian?…” You said to yourself in a whisper. If the caracal cat you often feed was a therianthrope, he probably would not harm you. It was very difficult given his current state. After giving it some thought, you choose to help him bandage the wound first. 

The caracal cat's eyes were partly closed as he lay still, watching you. After treating his wounds, you said: 

“I'll let you stay here for the time being. Once you recover, I will see how you can repay this."

Therian gave a smile. He waggled his tail beside your feet. He replied: 

“I owe you this time, my lady.”

“Not just this time. How about the times I fed you? They must be accounted for.” 

Your face heated as you remembered that you had previously caressed a therian with affection and that attractive one was now laying there. After gathering the remaining bandages, you headed out. However, he swiftly caught hold of your wrist and pulled you onto the bed.

“Stay here…” He whispered. “Your scent… It's very soothing…”

His breath carried the untamed scent of the forest, enveloping you. Your heart started to skip a beat. "You ask for too much," you replied, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. "Are you sure you can repay me later?"

“I, Sylus, am not an ungrateful creature,” he said, still holding the irresistible, devilish smile on his lips as he nuzzled into your arms. “How would you like me to repay your kindness, my lady?”

[alphajocklover]

InstaJock: Going Viral

**Hey! This is my entry for @occamstfs Viral Transformation Challenge. Congrats on getting 2,000 followers, and thank you for beta reading this and helping me edit it. I hope I can get to 2,000 followers myself one day! For those who are new to my stories, this does connect to the plot established in my blog, but the concept is simple enough you should be able to follow along even if you don't usually read my stuff! I hope you all enjoy!**

When I talk about the InstaJock App Phenomenon – which I seem to do a lot. What is this, the 17th InstaJock related post? I need to diversify more – I usually talk about the transformation aspects and not the app itself. That’s partially because the transformation is the most interesting and hottest part, but it’s also because I haven’t been able to take a good look at the app. Even with all the protective spells and equipment I have, I can’t use a phone with InstaJock on it for very long without getting an urge to set up an account. 

Until now.

With some help from the devilishly handsome (and literally devilish) Nick, I’ve been able to get my hands on some better equipment and better explore the app. I was able to spend a couple hours on it before I needed to quit, and actually got some very interesting information, mainly about how the app works post-transformation. I had always assumed that once a user got transformed into a jock, they’d ignore the app from then on unless they wanted to change someone. I was very, very wrong, not just about that but about the purpose of the app itself. It’s not just for making people into jocks: it’s for finding the best ones.

The app generally works like any other social media app, with its members posting about their interests. It’s set up is a lot like Instagram, where pictures and videos are the main format used for posting, but what really makes it different from other social media apps is the content. You can probably guess what an app full of buff cocky jocks looks like, but I’ll confirm it for you: the app is a thirst trap paradise.

The entire app is stuffed with half naked –  and sometimes fully naked – photos of buff jocks, ones of all different kinds. If you can think up a jock related stereotype, they have a full hashtag dedicated to it. Just buff jocks playing sports, flexing and making out with other hot people, for as far. I know that doesn’t sound too different from normal social media apps, as most have a healthy NSFW side, but the posts have more in common then just showing jocks. Each and every post, every one that I saw, mentioned a Master. Some were talking about how they were getting pumped up at the gym for Master, some were talking about how they loved being jocks and were so glad Master had found them, and some were literally begging for Master to notice them, often wantonly describing how they’d debase themselves and be the sluttiest jock ever, all for him. Everyone on the app would post at least once a day about this mysterious Master. It doesn’t seem to matter if the jock is a dom, a sub, a top, a bottom, in a relationship, single, gay or even straight, all of them wanted this mysterious unnamed master – so much so they seemed to completely change personalities whenever he is mentioned. It seems instaJock has an additional side effect I didn’t know about till now: complete and utter devotion to their Master.

It took me a while, and some covert interviewing of a number of jocks in their DMs, but I think I figured out what's happening. The Jocks aren’t just posting for fun, they’re competing with each other. InstaJock isn’t really a social media app, it’s a sort of ranking app. Every day the jocks log on, post a picture of themselves with a caption somehow related to their Master, and leave likes on some of the other posts, usually the ones they find hot. If a jock’s post gets enough likes though, they get what every jock wants, what all of them are trying to get. They get to Go Viral.

Going Viral on IntsaJock isn’t like going viral on a regular app. It essentially means you’ve gotten enough likes, been reposted enough times, and have become popular enough on the site… that Master has noticed you. That's what the social media part of the app is really for. It’s just a way for Master’s jocks to organize themselves so only the hottest ones show up on his feed. If he really likes you, he’ll do more than just look too. Soon that Jock will disappear from his regular life, never to be seen again, whisked away to become a part of Master’s personal harem. This entire time the app has been about one thing: creating lovestruck sex slaves for the man who created InstaJock.

Like most actual social media apps, InstaJock jumps from one thing to another, and what's viral is always changing. But there are two tags that are always trending on InstaJock. The first, and most popular, is #JockMaster, which is only ever used by this mysterious Master when he makes a post. I’ve seen his account. He never shows his face on it, but from what little of his body that makes it into the photos, he’s… enchanting. As much as I hate to admit it, seeing just a bit of that creep almost made me drool. He usually only posts a couple times a week, as opposed to the jock who posts daily, but everything he posts goes viral on the app in moments. I’ll admit, there's something about his posts that is just… hypnotic. I almost set up an account after seeing one myself, and probably would have if Nick wasn’t there to stop me.

The other tag that's always trending is… more interesting, at least to me. It’s #MastersBoyfriend. It’s another tag used only by Master, and one he uses whenever he posts a picture of one particular member of his harem. 

Whenever he posts pictures… of my Uncle John.

I finally know who took my Uncle. I know who this Master is. I suspected it was him for a while, but now I’m sure. The man who made InstaJock and the man who turned my Uncle into a slutty buff himbo are one in the same. I finally have proof.

So now what?

**The identity of the person behind InstaJock AND the person behind my Uncle's transformation and kidnapping has finally been revealed! Been working up to this for a long time, and I'm glad to keep this story moving forward! Hope you liked it as much as I do! Thank you to @occamstfs once again for being absolutely awesome and inspiring!**

[safination]

You, Me, and These Idiots

|Masterlist|

Pairings: Alastor x Wife!Reader Warnings: None TLDR: It’s cold, and Alastor has blankets to spare. My entry for @voxtekinc Week 1: I’m surrounded by Idiots. This took me like 45 minutes to write. Don't expect much GAHAHA. I'm trying my best <3

Alastor snaps his fingers. A blanker appears out of the air, landing on his arm. It’s just a blanket, a plain and simple blanket. Yet he knows that this thinner piece of fabric would be useless against the cool blow of that newly installed air-conditioning unit. Still, a blanket is a blanket.

You watch him, legs splayed out and snuggled up on the couch. “That looks fun.”

A quick roll of his eyes, and you throw a pillow at him.

“Yes yes,” he says, taking a step to the side. The blanket unfurls, and Alastor places it around Vaggie’s sleeping body. “All fun and games, indeed, yet when one of them gets sick because of the cold, and passes it around, it will be my job to accommodate their health.”

It’s how he says, ‘them’. It’s as if you won’t get sick either. Or was it that he would make sure you wouldn’t get sick?

“How thoughtful.”

Alastor laughs, his eyes bulging out in different directions. Still, it’s quite a hushed laughter. “I am quite the thoughtful creature,” he tells you. “I don’t see why anyone would say otherwise.”

The next few minutes go a little bit like this:

Charlie’s legs stick out, and press on Vaggie’s body in a way that looks like it would hurt. Alastor tucks in Charlie’s legs closer to herself, curling her closer to Vaggie. He pulls on the blanket around her, and wraps it around Charlie as well. It’s cute to see them snuggled up with their limbs bundled up together.

Niffty gets her own blanket. There’s a distinct thickness that the pervious one doesn’t possess. You know better than to mention it.

Lucifer doesn’t get a blanket.

Another snap of his fingers, and Husk and Angel Dust get their own blankets. Alastor doesn’t bother wrapping them. It appears into the air, and float down to their bodies. Their legs stick out, and half of it is already falling off. So, with a sigh, you tuck in the boys yourself.

Alastor summons another blanket.

 A pause.

And then another pause.

He looks around, and his eyes glaze over the sleeping figures, mentally counting each one. It’s in the way his eyebrows twitch a bit. It’s how you know something in his mind isn’t adding up. His eyes land of Sir Pentious’ painting, and you see the way he instantly understands.

Still, it would be a waste of a perfectly (albeit, thinning) blanket. So, you take it from him, pressing a kiss on the edge of his lips, and drop it on top of Lucifer.

It’s just you without a blanket now. You sit back on the couch, eager to see what he would do.

 Alastor takes his seat next to you, and pulls a blanket around your shoulders.

With a laugh, you grab the other end, and place it around his shoulder, pulling Alastor closer to you. Only now, does the room get warmer. Out of all the blankets Alastor snapped into thin air, this one is the thickets. It’s soft with a light fur texturing it.

Alastor glances around the hotel living-room, leaning his head on top of yours. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“I think,” you begin, bopping his nose, “that you’re forgetting that I am here, currently next to you.”

“And how is that any better?”

“If there are going to be idiots, at least we’re going to be surrounded.” You grab his hand, playing with the tips of his fingers before intertwining them. “Even among idiots, where there will be a you, there will also be me.”

Alastor crashes his weight into you, pressing his body closer with a laugh.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 2 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7])

here's another Agatha reflection that I didn't notice yesterday - it's a theme, I tell you

she's essentially doing what she does at the beginning of Wandavision, although with no prep time and no magic for costume changes: a ditzy over the top wife with the made up farway husband

I'd get a couple more candles back there, Lilia. You missed a spot.

But jokes aside, you know what she's doing? She's taking the piss out of agatha. this is Lilia we're talking about, the Seer. her job is literally to See. she knew who and what Agatha was the moment she stepped in, and frankly it's insulting that Agatha would try such cheap tricks on her. this is a little "fuck you agatha" before they get down to business and lilia can tell her to fuck off too

and yes, agatha underestimates lilia from the start, which is the point of lilia's character and the lesson she has to internalize. but the thing is, lilia IS amazing, powerful and wise from the very beginning. this whole scene is Lilia being better, smarter and more powerful than Agatha, she just doesn't have the self-confidence to recognize it

(but WHY beauford?? best name she could have picked)

lilia IS in control. she sets the pace of this encounter. agatha is a step behind, which is rare for her

fuck off, look at that stupid condescending little face

YASSS read her for filth! but let's recap her exact words (so I have an excuse to listen again to Patti's exquisite delivery and voice control)

"You've been under the influence of another. Someone you hurt." Wanda. And we go back to Agatha torturing Wanda and what it's doing to her, the guilt she feels.

"They took your agency. For three years." Agency is one of the main themes of this show and something that will touch Lilia up close too.

"It's not the first time your witch kin betrayed you." Not the other way round! Yes, Agatha has betrayed, she has hurt and killed. But we need to acknowledge that she was betrayed by her kin, her coven, her community first.

"But you survive, in a way few do." Agatha is a survivor. She dragged herself out of a hellpit, and she was maimed and turned into something horrible in the process. But she fucking survived.

"In fact, that's why you're here." Lilia knows EXACTLY what Agatha is planning, she knows that she's here to kill and she knows why. She knew from the start.

agatha's face falling more and more

YES. FUCK YES. THE PERFECT DICTION TROUGH GRITTED TEETH. SHE IS NOT INTERESTED!! GIVE THIS WOMAN ALL THE MONOLOGUES BECAUSE SHE'S GONNA CRUSH THEM

I know, Billy. this is also the way I look at stage goddess patti lupone

SHE IS CRYING AGAIN! DO YOU SEE IT!!! DO YOU SEE THIS SHIT?!!?!? SHE'S CRYING AT BEING SEEN SO CLEARLY, BECAUSE SHE'S ALWAYS HIDING. AND SHE'S CRYING WITH RELIEF, TRIUMPH AND GUILT BECAUSE SHE'S FOUND THIS AMAZING EXTRAORDINARY WONDERFUL WITCH AND SHE HAS TO KILL HER SO SHE WON'T DIE HERSELF TONIGHT

DON'T TOUCH ME, I'M IN A GLASSCASE OF EMOTIONS.

that's a predator right there

nuh-uh babe, she's got your number. you are not going to win this one. (i'm drinking up all the details in her room. look at that old singer sewing machine, that's a 70s or 80s model - everything in the room is at least 40 years old. Is she making herself a quilt? is she cold at night? we know she doesn't have the money to pay her bills)

I KNOW, BILLY!!!

lol, you know when patti told joe locke something like, 'sorry you're stuck here with all these old ladies'?? and he was like, no you don't undeRSTAND

(I mean, Patti has met plenty of gay boys. she understands.)

Lilia jumps for a moment to episode 5 and hears the ghost of Agatha's mom yelling at her. (aw, her chairs are all mismatched.)

Billy is always so polite. and look at Agatha's body language, she's doing the same thing she did when torturing Wanda, kind of hugging herself. both predatory and defensive, because, once again, she is not as comfortable as she seem. she is not being sincere, she is out to manipulate lilia, and she's not happy about it

I live for lilia's rants about the commodification and gentrification of the queer witch community (look at those gorgeous italian plates!)

she actually did bite a kid once

"when I was chased out of every village I passed through for accurately predicting tragedy? NO, I do NOT. BEAT IT, harkness!" I adore her delivery. and also. ouch. ouch. my sweet lilia. so many years, so much pain

When watching this scene for the first time, you identify with Billy and just sit back and enjoy these two extraordinary witches and actresses working together. the first episodes are high on comedy but they all have a serious, upsetting undertone, and it's especially gratifying to see how both actresses work with voice, face and body language to express what they can't say explicitly. Lilia is an incredibly old, wise, experience witch, but also tired, alone, humiliated. She's been jumping through time and she's really frightened about it. And right now? She's quite literally going against the most dangerous serial killer of witches in known history. She can stand her own against Agatha and then some, but she is not confident enough to see it yet.

A question that reads ironic but is delivered without a hint of irony. Why are you dragging a child into this? You of all people. Why are you putting a literal child in danger?

an ironic answer also delivered with no irony. it's threatening, and it's also protective of Billy

agatha gambles: maybe she can get lilia mad enough later and get blasted anyway. maybe she has other means to steal (a kiss, mayhaps?) And Billy better not hear this, she's not gonna kill him or anything but, you know, keeping her options open. just in case.

lilia DOES NOT need to return to her clairvoyant glory. lilia is one of the most if not the most powerful seer. her isolation is self-imposed. agatha is completely out of her depth here.

case in point: agatha does successfully con jen and alice, but she does NOT con lilia. not even close. she had nothing. lilia was in control of the conversation the whole time, seeing through agatha the whole time, and she was always going to say no.

"Three of Pentacles." collaboration, community, singular voices waiting to harmonize. Lilia REACHES THROUGH TIME and MAKES herself join Agatha. How fucking heartwrenching is that???? Agatha never tricked Lilia into doing anything. Lilia is sitting at the tarot table in her Glinda costume, for the first time fully confident and fully aware in her power, and she just - she grabs herself in the past and says, this is your family. this is your coven. you have chosen it. go and reclaim it. that is why Lilia follows them to the Road. not because Agatha is powerful, but because Lilia is.

and present Lilia is just so scared. she knows this is going to kill her.

FUCK I love this show so much!

(and a quick shoutout to @sapphicjew, I'm loving your commentary!)

go to episode 2 part 3

[heavenbarnes]

your can’t get it up piece STOPPPP THE WORMS IN MY BRAIN ARE GOING FERAL HELP! i have noooo clue what this is called or if it’s an official thing but i loveeee when a guy cums too quickly, can’t get it up, is so pent up they’re blushing blubbering etc and all of these are such older boyfriend simon like he is old and sometimes his body doesn’t work the way he wants it to. i love it like yesss blush and get all embarrassed because you just came in your pants simply because we were making out or because you came as soon as you put your cock in and thrusted like twice…yum!

JESUS idk what it’s called either but it drives me fucking batty 🫶🏼

there’s this line older bf!simon walks with you of either feeling like a dirty old man or a fucking teenager- often there’s no in between.

when he’s got you on your back and you’re looking up at him with those starry eyes like he hung the fucking moon and you’re biting on the tip of your finger as you fucking giggle for him.

“mmm si, you’re so fucking handsome”

and you’re dragging a hand up his abs and pushing your hips closer to him as he’s trying to clear his mind enough to sink just the tip in.

fucking focus, stupid git.

it’s no use when you’re touching him like that and you sound so fucking sweet and your eyes are crossing when he’s only just notched in the head of his cock.

done for.

you’re tight- practically choking him on entry and it’s all falling to pieces. strangled moan breaking out his chest as his hips are stuttering and he’s flooded you with cum.

you gasp, fingers moving to spread yourself a little to watch the way it spills out of you. the blush is already creeping up simon’s neck and he’s burying his face in your chest.

“m’so fuckin’ sorry, sweet’art”

rubbing his back and gently cooing in his ear, you’re pulling him on top of you to let him curl into your side.

“sorry f’what? thinking that highly of me?”

he feels like a fucking loser with this pretty little thing, he should be able to fuck you within an inch of your life. and he can! he does!

but not all the time.

not when you’ve been perched in his lap kissing on him for the better part of an hour and your hips roll into his when his hands move just right.

the little noises you make when the meeting of your thighs move over the hard line of his cock, simon’s head is fucking spinning.

he wants to tell you he needs a breather, he knows you’d understand but he also doesn’t want you to move. he doesn’t want to take a hand off you.

but when you’re leaning back and pulling your shirt over your head, taking his hands and placing them right on your chest- he’s done for.

simon’s hips lift off the couch and there’s a breathy little whimper and he doesn’t even know where the fuck it came from. but he’s cumming.

and he’s cumming hard.

he’s embarrassed, feeling like if anyone else knew that’d just happened- he’d probably have to kill them.

not you though, not you who looks at him with that heady little smile and starts kissing up the column of his throat.

“fuck, si- you sound so fucking sexy when you cum for me”

but when he’s feeling like a dirty old man, already getting on at himself for not being young enough for you. then his cock goes soft on him and he actually might break something.

you don’t even look bothered, when he’s sitting on the edge of the bed feeling sorry for himself and you’re wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

nuzzling your face in the crown of his head, pressing kisses to his scalp as you bring a hand down to stroke it soft.

“that feel good?”

simon’s chest stutters as he breathes out an affirmative, sinking back into your chest as your other hand comes to play with his balls.

“you’ve had a long week, yeah?”

and he remembers that yeah, he has actually. maybe his body isn’t giving up, maybe he isn’t the worst man to ever walk the planet, maybe- just maybe he does deserve you.

so he lets himself relax into you as your teeth gently scrape the shell of his ear while you stroke him. never firming, but still making that heat thunder away in his stomach.

“let me take care of you, like you always do f’me”

[lady-buggerinton]

My Top Five Polin Scenes in Part One (and why!)

My darling gossipers, so far this show is making literally all of my hopeless romantic dreams for this couple come true and who knows what kind of angst and drama were in for in part two, so before things gets too real I just wanted to go into (too much) depth on my favorite scenes and a few swoon-worthy details from part one! *whips reigns on carriage* shall we?

5. Drawing Room Lesson/Journal

Pen's brain: TOUCH ALERT! HIS HAND IS ON MY BACK.

This scene is so best friend coded with the way they are bantering and flirting the whole time. There's an adorable contrast between Penelope's fear of being discovered and Colin being like it's chill!(when in fact it is not Chill because they get interrupted after 5 minutes of gazing into each others eyes)

He just clearly wanted to be completely alone and behind closed doors platonically with his very beautiful friend (who looks like an angel in this scene) to pretend they are courting. Nothing suspicious about that!

I love how he's so into the lesson to the point that he has set out the lemonade as a prop and brought her to Bridgerton house in the first place specifically because she said it was where she was most comfortable (previously, but he's doing his best, and probably hoping she will become comfortable again, ouch)

Colin being the "dashing suitor" for her to flirt with (loser) and when she's resistant to fake flirting with him he hits her with the, "you don't have to be embarrassed, you know me!" trying to put her at ease. And he succeeds! Penelope is so comfortable during this scene when she's opening up about how it's hard for her to get her personality across, it's so sweet and honest.

And this is when the ROMANCING really starts, I love how it's Penelope who takes the lead here. mostly by accident, but the poor man is still left in shambles.

I do kind of wish for this scene they had gone with a more back and forth flirting moment, and seen them both get a little taste of how overtly flirting with each other would feel rather than her little poetic moment, but it was sweet to see her expose a corner of her feelings for him and watching him get a tad flustered at the compliment.

Ok, while it was rather uncool of her to read his journal, I love this part so much. Because I am no better, I would 100 percent do this given the chance. Her examining the space where he spends time, her running her hand over his pirate coat, (who wouldn't) the quiet yearning of that action. As a snoop myself, this was wish fulfillment.

Penelope being hit with a confusing mix of jealousy and intrigue by the contents of the journal entry, the way she stops reading for just a second and then gives in and devours his writing, not being able to hold back from getting inside his head. Don't think about how she probably missed his letters.

Colin's anger here is warranted, and I liked how he didn't come across as aggro-angry Colin from the books but is still justifiably upset that his privacy has been violated. He is likely aware that there are certain DETAILS he wouldn't want her to be reading, like how he's a lonely lonely sad little man trying to be rakish and roguish because his beautiful platonic friend isn't writing him back and encouraging him like she usually does.

Can I just mention that bandaging a wound is an excellent trope and it's such a good romancing vehicle: the care, the tenderness, the touching! the GRUMPINESS! But my favorite thing about the wound bandaging is his reaction to her complimenting his work, of which he hasn't shown ANYONE. He's just so shocked that she likes it, and clearly starved for her encouragement/anyone to be interested in his travels.

I think its also worth noting that this is THE moment that Colin thinks back to when he's considering activating his chaos tendencies by rolling up to the red ball to interrupt her proposal, so I'm gonna interpret that as him recalling his first realization/admittance to himself that he has feelings for her beyond friendship.

It wouldn't surprise me since it is after this moment that we see the hints of jealousy start to manifest at the full moon ball (looking for her, asking her if she likes a suitor, he's not subtle with it). Can't blame him, he was just touched with intimacy and care, and told his creative outlet is well-written, he is being ROMANCED to the max and he can't handle it.

We also have our first "please" as Pen asks to help, and as we will see, these two can't say no to each other once the magic word is spoken! I hope this theme makes a comeback in part two (please please please)

4. Market Scene

ok, besides a semi-silly looking wig on Colin (reshoots) this scene is first of all, so beautiful.

SHE IS SO FINE IN THIS SCENE I CAN'T EVEN THINK. She looks like a preraphaelite painting and I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

I literally kept saying "wow" out loud. It actually makes the scene very silly to me because she keeps talking about how she'll never snag a husband and I'm over here on one knee begging for a chance.

If Penelope has been Colin's cheerleader and #1 supporter for their whole friendship, this is where that flips. This scene is all about Pen feeling dejected about her prospects and Colin trying to lift her spirits -basically by saying she doesn't need to work on anything because he already likes her so much without her doing anything but I digress!

There is nothing hotter than your crush talking about a shared memory! Literally nothing! You can see her absolutely light up here when he talks about their first meeting like "I can't believe he remembered" and "Shit, I'm trying to not be in love" and it makes me ache for her.

I am very sad we didn't get a meet cute flashback (hello romcom!!) but this was the next best thing. He's also definitely still in Rake Mode with the way he is being charming and flirty, but there is a core of genuine feeling here as he is trying to get her find her confidence and be more like the non-self conscious children they once were. I believe a lot of the rift between them was directly because she had such strong feelings for him and couldn't just connect with him as friends due to the pedestal she put him on, this scene shows that without that as a barrier, they are able to connect much more naturally.

"Living for the estimation of others is a trap, once you break free the world opens up," he says, and he's starting to realize this idea but hasn't quite put it into practice. I think seeing Penelope struggling to be something she's not, just like he is, shows him how it's not working for either of them. This I think kickstarts his self-reflection and eventual rejection of external pressures later on, leaving him open to pursue other passions.

Ok but what I LOVE most in this scene is his subtle digging for information about her that she isn't forthcoming with. He asks her why she wants a husband and where she feels most comfortable, peppering her with questions and also giving her zero personal space. He's very curious about her and what is going on inside, but she's not exactly open with him at this point, giving short and simple answers.

She's genuinely not used to someone asking her this many questions about herself, receiving this kind of devoted attention, and she clearly doesn't know quite how to respond. In fact, the dynamic has always been reversed, where she was encouraging and inquiring about him, so this switch is just excellent. there have been little moments throughout the series where he asks about her and she always seems to deflect to talking more about him, so it's nice to see this shift.

Also fun detail, the grecian statues behind them are a little nod to the eros and psyche vibes of the scene as cupid is trying to find a match for his psyche, but is slowly beginning to fall for her, his curiosity the first step towards total downfall.

When he asks about Eloise is where Pen just completely shuts down and says she has to leave, and the "before we are noticed" with the little smile? I have fallen in love. She's clearly using that as an excuse to dodge the question, and it is almost an inside joke, sadly. As if she's saying "No one would believe you are courting me anyway haha". And yet he's clearly bummed she's leaving, he was having such a good time, and she leaves him hanging, wanting to know more. I also absolutely love the Rae side eye, lethal!

3. Candy Tent

Post-kiss insanity is on full display here. The way she beckons him with a sexy head tilt and he came running, the way his hands give away his nervousness and his eyes keep locking on her helplessly. Just FULL ON crush mode. The soft "How are you?" he missed her!

Also outfits are incredible here, the pearls in the hair, the painted vest, Colin inventing the color brown, it's a rococo dream. The plushy pink of the tent, the ambiance, everything is just in a word: sumptuous? never used that but it feels right here.

Pen's giddiness here is just adorable, she's experiencing blatant interest for the first time and I couldn't be happier for her. But someone else is very peeved, indeed. He's trying to play the part of supportive friend while also just kind of feeling a lot of "confounding feelings"

The way he is trying to be so casual and attempting to keep up his swagger, but his true feelings are showing through BAD kind of harkens back to how Pen would interact with Colin in s1 and 2, with barely contained affection and hope. The script has been FLIPPED and it feels so good!!

I literally squeal every time he asks her if she's formed an attachment to Debling, this is the shit I signed up for!! Her saying Debling is not "unpleasant to gaze upon" and watching Colin just completely glitch out with jealousy. He's like AND WHAT ABOUT ME! Must be frustrating to be the most eligible bachelor of the season, and yet your very beautiful crush friend is complementing another man on his looks. When your crush expresses interest in someone it can be truly insanity inducing, so I feel for him here.

Pen is oblivious completely, she doesn't think any of what she is saying is negatively affecting him, in fact she thinks this news will make him happy! His lessons worked, she didn't care about being perceived and it is having the desired affect! and yet, he's miserable. Mission accomplished unsuccessfully if you will.

He does ALMOST a good job of hiding his feelings, but if Pen were not completely convinced he couldn't have feelings for her, I think she would've picked up on the vibes here. He's way less enthusiastic about the lessons, and is giving fairly curt responses, when before he was yapping on about being yourself and such.

Then of course the blatant staring at her mouth, being the yearning sort of man he is and likely recalling their kiss in detail, reminder it's been at least a week since. She's romancing him without even trying. It also makes sense for "food motivated" Colin to have Penelope + cake equals critical override of his facial expressions and his literally standing there slack-jawed with lust.

His soft "good luck", when she leaves and the fact that he doesn't mean it AT ALL.

I've seen it talked about, but it makes a lot of sense that Penelope wasn't as affected by the kiss as he was. I'm sure she enjoyed it, but for her the kiss was an end (more on that later) and for him it was the moment he admitted his feelings (which were already growing slowly). so it makes sense the yearning is very colin-sided in this scene.

Apart from the yearning, it's also just sweet to see them in cahoots and discussing this development with Debling like its a little group project, and its the perfect scene to show Down Bad Colin, and I love it. She also clearly wants him to share with her in her success, still wanting to be close to him in any way she can, which if I think about too much I'll cry.

Bonus points for him eating the cake later on, such an intimate detail, he just wants to be close to her in any way he can. CRIMINAL! ARREST HIM!

2. First kiss/Dream Sequence

Ok I'm combining these scenes because they happen back to back and sort of like a mirror of each other, sue me. This first kiss scene is, as Whistledown says, RECKLESS. It's nonsensical, it's desperate, and it's beautiful.

This scene has only improved upon rewatches, it really has everything. Best kiss scene on Bridgerton and possibly in anything ever? no doubt no doubt?

The silly back and forth on the "You're not going to die" and the way she doesn't back down when he seems to get embarrassed, but instead says what? The Magic Word! "Please" she says, which of course is both of their activation word. His expressions here definitely mirror the book, where as soon as she asks him to kiss her, he's a bit taken aback by how much he realizes he wants to already.

This is such a low moment for Penelope, and it's one parts embarrassing and two parts brave of her to ask him to kiss her. In her position, she doesn't even have her pride left, so why not ask the boy you love to kiss you? nothing will come of it anyway, and he probably won't even do it, so why not ask? And what are friends for!

then the moment comes, and the music swells, as does the tension as he closes the distance between them, her shocked face and shallow breaths as she realizes its actually going to happen, the way he lifts her face to his with his hand under her chin. It's just pure romance. and this thing between them, this space that has never been crossed, is being crossed, and it feels insane. reckless. intimate!!

What I love is the shot that focuses on his face after they deepen the kiss, he's intent and confused by how good this feels, how little like kindness this is for him as soon as their lips touch. Like we will see later, he just kind of mind-blanks and forgets what is happening.

Whatever he thought they were has just crumbled with this kiss, and he leans his forehead against hers, no awkwardness when there is such tenderness. which is why he's so shook when she whispers "thank you", and rushes off. he's like "wait why is she thanking me? where am I? weren't we doing something here?" The hopeful strings as it focuses on his dumbstruck face, the earth literally shifting under his feet in that moment. UNREAL.

THE DREAM: I won't say a lot about the dream sequence but I just had to throw it in here because it shows how aligned they are romantically. They are both HUGE romantics, and he has orchestrated this sort of do-over kiss where he's really going for it and proving to her that he wants this too, he wants her. And she's enjoying herself, clearly, which we know is something Colin wants more than anything. It's a great way to show his inner feelings with the lack of an inner monologue that a book brings. And this is clearly a sort of parody of Bridgerton itself, or at least the books. It's over the top, a little silly, and exactly what we all want to see.

This dream also isn't just ripping off clothes, it's emotional, a key element is him expressing how he's been thinking about her, consumed by her. This kiss also isn't as innocent and patient as the first kiss, and it's full of Reciprocation, she can't stop thinking about him either. AND NEITHER CAN I!!!

Both of these kiss scenes also set up our contrasting feelings, where Pen views their first kiss as an end of a dream, a bittersweet act to finally let go off him, the dream of him. And then his dream shows the opposite, how she's ignited something in him that begins his dream of her, awake and asleep. Dream-swap! Also the hand on the wall behind her to catch her from hitting the wall. no comment.

1. Carriage Scene

Yeah like what can I say! It's incredible! I honestly have no idea how they can top this scene, but honestly if this is the best love scene they share in the season I am 10000% content. All of my little qualms with how they did the season melt away when I watch this scene because this was what was crucial to nail and they NAILED IT. TO THE WALL BABY. YAY.

And how did he gain access to the carriage (and Penelope)?? by saying please!! we love the magic word!! I do like the confession a lot, especially the "what if I did have feelings for you?" and the way he gets to his KNEES, a truly inspired moment.

How he completely dies inside when she says they are friends, and still accepts it with grace. There were SO many obstacles to him expressing his feelings to her this night, and he just red rovered each one, and we are all very grateful.

Something about this scene is just built different, I like a lot of the love scenes in the show, but this one has some kind of secret ingredient that we didn't know we'd been missing. Maybe its the location, the context, the way they are just grasping at each other desperately (which if you think about how Penelope thought this was a one time thing in the books and she wanted to make the most of it, actually don't think about that)

He's also just so sweet about it, he's not angry, or insistent, he's just honest and intent. and she's just bewildered and INTO IT.

The lightning is gorgeous, the way it looks like Penelope is catching on fire and glowing. the catharsis, the giving into passion. The way she smiles like her dreams are coming true (because they are) before he just completely attacks her. What else can I say but EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

so many of the kisses are so tender and gentle, and they just build and build and build in intensity as they get lost in each other.

on a more horny note, so many moments here actually make me physically roll my eyes back in my head with how insane they make me. The desperate boob grab, the consensual nod, the way his hand slips under her dress, they were truly so insane for this. something tells me they knew I've waited literal years for this, so they knew they had to make it good.

Someone said Nicola should get an Emmy nom for moans, and she should, somehow they don't come across as cartoonish at all, and it doesn't take me out of the scene like some "noise making" does in these types of scenes. and for the record I'm not jealous at all, of either of them. in fact, no sooner did my head hit the pillow that I was met with complete and total darkness....not even a dream....

Like everything I could say has already been said, but it was so much better than I thought it was going to be, blew my expectations out of the water and DELIVERED. and DEVOURED. and RUINED ME. AND I AM VERY GRATEFUL.

Anyway that's all, I'm very afraid for part two so I needed some escapism, why am I already nostalgic for the good ol' times when Polin was happy for 6 minutes. thanks for reading! <3

[harlowhockeystick]

LUNCH ⎯ C. Berzatto

carmen interviews a new girl for the recent waitressing job at the bear, and she's been the recent reason for his journal entries the past two weeks.

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: sexual themes (18+ MDNI), cuss words, carmen being super whipped but also kind of a perv, reader is kind of a ditz but so am i, reader has tats because i do too, reader also doesnt have much dialogue bc it's mostly from his pov.

word count: 1k

a/n: not really based off any specific episode or season in the series. i just love carmy so much <3

"Chef i need you to take over for at least an hour, i got an interview in 10." Carmen instructed Sydney, walking into the office as the kitchen staff began to prepare for open. The staff- mainly Sydney, Richie, and Carmen desperately needed a waiter in house. With how busy the restaurant was beginning to get they needed more than Nat out there.

"Are you gonna hire her?" Sydney asked; Carmen had briefed her about the applicant a day prior. He sat down, refreshing himself on the resume before meeting with her.

"Well she's the only applicant so far, so I don't really think I have a choice chef," before he could finish his thought he heard the chime of the entrance door. Glancing down at the time it read 10:51.

Early, off to a good start, he said to himself quietly. He gave one puff of cologne on his neck to try and musk the smell of kitchen before going out into the front of house to start the interview. Carmen forgot how to breathe for just a few seconds when he saw her- easily the most beautiful person he's seen walk in his restaurant.

"Um- Hi I'm Carmen Berzatto, the owner, you must be Y/N?" He introduces through a deep breath and a shaky hand that he extends. She takes it with a smile, following his lead. The soft taps of her high top converse against the tile floor, the flow of her skirt twirling as she turns in front of him slightly. It's exhilarating.

"Can I get you something to drink before we start? Water, a soda, coffee?" He offers, standing tall next to the table side. She grins and shakes her head denying his offer, her sweet sounding voice making butterflies flutter around in his stomach. That hasn't happened in a while.

They make small talk for a little while, Carmen asking pre-thought out ice breakers before getting to the real questions. But if he's honest with himself he isn't even listening to her answers. He's too focused on the way her lips move and how she purses her lips when she thinks about an answer.

He's taken great notice of the tattoos she has on her arms, in similar places to his own, all black outlined like his too. one is written in french, he assumes, right above her wrist on her arm. One is two small birds on the inside of her forearm. He wants to pause the interview just to talk about what they all mean to her. Partially because he wants to hear her voice for the rest of his life. He wants to press record on his phone and listen to her talk about whatever she wants to, her voice is that angelic.

"Can I ask you what the tattoo on your hand means?" she asked and he thought he was going to faint because she grabbed ahold of his hand gently to get a better look at it. She giggled when she got a better look at the artwork.

"It's to remind me to be careful when I chop vegetables, essentially," Carmen explained with a chuckle. "What does the one on your wrist mean?"

"Terre à terre, down to earth. I dont want to stray too far from who I was raised to be, so that's a reminder. I also have a couple more in french- my grandmother was french so I have a lot of french things in my life." She pulls up the sleeve of her shirt to reveal another tattoo, "étoile filante, shooting star. The first time I saw a shooting star was on my sixteenth birthday, my worst birthday actually."

He reminded himself to close his mouth because he knew he was about to start drooling, hearing the way her silky voice sounded even better in a foreign language.

He breezed through the interview, Natalie insisting that even though there are no other applicants and she'll probably get the job, do it the right way. "I'll give you a call by the end of the week, Y/N. It was a pleasure having you today." He shows her out of the restaurant, walking her to her car for safety, of course."

When Carmen got back inside, before he got to joining the team in prepping for the lunch crowd he pulled out his journal that he started to carry with him. It was full of various things: different dinner ideas to try out on the menu for a special, addresses, phone numbers, and other journal entries. he's made a habit of journal three times a week and he has a feeling he's going to be doing it a lot more with Y/N joining the team.

-

I could eat that girl for lunch. She smelled sweet like fuckin brownies or something, rich and delicious. Her tattoos, her gold necklaces, her smile, her skirt. I feel like a perv but god i know her skin would be so soft, and she'd have the best blind reactions to recipes, and i bet she'd taste good too. I'm closing the applications, this Y/N chick is gonna be the death of me.

-

"Hi Y/N, this is Carmen from The Bear, how're you?" he couldn't even wait a full 24 hours before he hired her. Embarrassing. "I just wanted to call and let you know that we're offering you the job if you are still interested." He bit the cap of his pen with a grin hearing her cheer and laugh on the other side of the phone. "Yea- yeah that's great, listen could you start Monday? I'll get you trained n'all that."

Carmen ends the phone call and moves some papers around on his desk, printing the papers for Y/N and putting them in her folder. He couldn’t stop grinning like a kid from hearing her excited voice over the phone.

Instantly he’s thinking of a million things to write in his journal about her. But he doesn’t have time, he needs to prep the special for tonights dinner service before anything else. Carmen will be thinking of her, however. Thinking of how soft her hands must be, or how sweet her chapstick tastes. He'll think of how it'll be nice to have her around, not just the help but to have someone with a softer tone around the place, too.

He thinks about Y/N while making glaze, mixing everything together to get that perfect spicy honey taste, he's imagining how her face lights up when she laughs. He doesn't even really know her yet but he's already making up what a first date would be like. He'd take her out for coffee, go see a movie, then go for a walk. But not too late, though. Even if she might be a night owl it's still inappropriate to keep a girl out past ten, at least that's what he read in some magazine a long time ago.

"Chef you ready to prep the team for tonight?" Sydney asked, interrupting his thoughts. He stumbled, dropping the spoon into the bowl and biting his tongue.

"Fuck- yeah, yeah I am."

-

"'M gonna go over the menu with you, if m'goin too fast then stop me." He pulls up a chair and tucks his hair behind his ears. Setting the laminated piece of paper in front of her, explaining each dish to her in firm detail. Carmen watches as her french tip acrylic nails trace along the menu, guiding along the words that he says from memory.

She's impressed, shocked even that he came up with this himself. She jokes that she can't cook and it gains a laugh from him.

"I'll teach you a few things, if ya want." He didn't mean for it to come out sounding like he was hitting on her...but secretly he was. Since when was he that slick with words?

-

I can't stop thinking about her. She's on my mind all the fuckin' time. She smelled really good, must have been her shampoo. I would love to just sit with her there, not sexually. Just be. I bet she's really calm and chill. I'd love to get ready with her in the mornings, again not sexually. To spend time, to laugh, to talk. I could eat that girl for lunch.

-

When Carmen walks into the front he catches Y/N taking pictures in the mirror by the entrance. He chuckles, watching her pose and smile. She turns around and gasps, cheeks getting darker when she realizes she's gotten caught.

"Sorry, the mirror is just so aesthetic."

"That? Um, okay? Guess we have different opinions of what aesthetic is." Carmen guides her to the back counter, teaching her how to count inventory of everything.

He feels out of place- no, he feels gross when he watches her bend down. He sees a peek of white lace stick out from the band of her jeans and he knows he shouldn't stare, but he can't help his mind from wandering. He wanders about what other types of underwear she might have, if she has any special ones, what they'd feel like wrapped-

"Carmen!" Sydney snaps him out of his daydream. "Sorry to interrupt, but you have a phone call from the AC guy." He's pulled away, for the better, but he knows he's going to write about this as soon as he gets the chance.

-

I'm interested in more than just being her boss. I could eat her alive, i'd let her take a seat on me wherever she wants for however long she wants. She'd taste like....like sweet watermelons on a sunny summer day. Yeah, something like that. She can't be real can she? I don't know how long I can keep acting professional. I just know she'd be the one for me.

・。♡.・゜✭・.・✫・゜✭・。. ♡・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜♡・。

feedback | masterlist

[rex101111]

Things that happen within the first few hours of AC6:

1. You get shot with a huge-ass laser mid-atmosphere entry. You barely survive this, landing several miles away from your intended landing zone.  Welcome to Rubicon 3.

2. You have a mech built with bargain bin parts, barely held together with hope and spite. It has a energy sword though, so that’s nice.

3. Not even two seconds after your, very rough, landing, you get a call from your “Handler”. He is ostensibly in charge of your well-being. This begins and ends with him sending you off on missions he’s fairly certain you’ll survive and charges you for the damage you get to your mech, the bullets you use, and he’s also cut out a piece of your brain to put in augmentations that will make you a slightly better mech pilot. In the top Most Horrible People On This Planet contest, he wouldn’t make it to the top 10.

4. You make your way through a derelict hunk of junk that’s threatening to collapse on top of you. Not even two minutes into this journey, you’re getting shot at with missiles. 

5. You finally reach your intended destination, a burning husk of a city filled with scavengers and low lives who will shoot you on sight. You are here to grave rob.

6. The reason you are grave robbing is connected to the fact you got shot in orbit, you are here illegally, and you need to find a license from any fresh corpse so you can steal the identity on it and be able to do mercenary work.

7. You go through four corpses before you find one with a license that can pass muster.

8. Mid corpse robbing a gunship sent by The Space Police spots you and you have to shot it down so it can’t kill you or, even worse, stop you from stealing the identity you just found. 

9. As soon as you get registered in the Mercenary Rolodex, which takes less then a second of an A.I taking a look and saying “alright checks out”, you have two missions. One of them has you killing a bunch of resistance fighters from the planet’s native population on behalf of a weapons company that really wants to do business here. 10. The next mission has you going to a base owned by that very same company and blowing up everything you can find there. This does not anger that company one bit, if anything it just convinces them you are a very thorough worker. 11. Very shortly after that, you are tasked with destroying a prototype mech by another company before it can get into mass production. That mech is being piloted by what can only be described as an Anime Protag who is in the worst possible franchise for his type of character. You can murder him in less then two minutes if you know what you’re doing. You can hear him desperately fight for his life the entire time. 12. After that, before you even get to clean the blood and oil and broken dreams off your robot, you get a call from a merc group leader saying that he’s seen you murder that guy real good, a guy who was auditioning to join his group, and likes the cut of your jib. He gives you the callsign he was gonna give Anime Protag before you blew him the fuck up. He laughs and tells you to be careful since it’s an unlucky number. This is the least morally repugnant thing you’ll do all game.   

13. A while after that, you go into a power plant and destroy the generator, it promptly blasts you in the face with the red radioactive Super Fuel that toasted this planet a few years back.

14. You survive, somehow, and you get a disembodied voice of some girl in your ear. You tell your handler about this and he just shrugs it off with “oh yeah that’s probably a symptom of the lobotomy, don’t worry about it”. The voice is probably the most moral person on this fire blasted hell scape of a planet.

[cosmicdahlias]

Monthly Chivalry

Ford Pines x Reader

MINORS DNI

Your time of the month has hit you like a truck. Ford proposes an idea to alleviate your pain.

tags: blood, praise kink, period oral, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, period sex, p in v, creampie

i asked if y’all wanted a period sex fic and got an overwhelming yes of 44 notes. i’ve always been into the concept of period sex and i had no idea so many of y’all are too. we really all freaks up in this bitch.

You lay in bed with your boyfriend and research partner, Ford, his bare chest pressed against your back and his arm wrapped around you. You scrolled on your phone with a heating pad on your stomach, unable to sleep. You were once again struck with the monthly “gift” from mother nature.

Ever since you first started having periods you were always afflicted with cramps that left you in unbearable pain. Ibuprofen helped somewhat, but the discomfort was still significant. You curled in a fetal position as you felt a cramp throb in your stomach.

“Oh dear, is it getting bad again?” Ford asked.

You nodded and he slipped a six fingered hand under your heating pad to your stomach.

“I hate seeing you like this every month. Is there anything I can do to help? I could make a pot of herbal tea if you’d like.” He offered.

“No, it’s okay. If the heating pad is barely doing anything, I doubt tea will do me much good.”

“My poor stardust, I just wish I could take away your pain someho-“

He stopped, an idea forming. You rolled over and looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Well, there is… something we could try. I’ve read that sex during menstruation can actually be quite beneficial. The contractions from an orgasm cause the uterus to relax, which is incredibly effective at alleviating cramps. Furthermore, increased circulation causes clitoral and vaginal sensitivity during this time of the month which can intensify orgasms. Would you be willing to give it a shot?”

You had to admit, your period did always dramatically increase your sex drive and something about him being open to try what most men would never even consider doing was incredibly arousing. That and with your pain you were more than on board. You put a hand to his chest.

“Let’s do it.” You said enthusiastically.

“Very good. Let me go fetch a towel.”

Ford left the room and returned with a towel, setting it on the bedside table. He got on top of you, kissing you and lifting your shirt, taking in the sight of your chest.

“Goodness, I love how your breasts get larger during your cycle.”

He took one in his hand and stroked your nipple with his thumb, making you moan softly.

“They also get more sensitive.” You purred.

“Mmm, I can tell.” He whispered.

Ford lifted your hips, placing the towel underneath you, and slipping your pajama pants and panties off of you. He lowered himself down your body, leaving a trail of kisses and edging dangerously close to your pussy.

“Oh Ford, you’re not gonna-“

“Do you not want me to?”

“N- no I don’t mind it in theory, I just… don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I appreciate your concern, but have you considered that I want to do this? To taste you? May I?”

You turned deep scarlet, suddenly remembering Ford’s journal entry on giant vampire bats. Him craving blood “more than usual” after being bitten by one, which when his nephew shone a blacklight on the entry revealed it to be nothing more than a fruit bat, a detail Ford curiously left out of his story when he recounted it before you two became a couple. There was also the scratched out phrase “human blood tastes better”. You knew Ford had some kinks that were… out there to say the least, so this really shouldn’t have been a surprise to you.

You nodded.

“Good girl.” He said.

He dragged his tongue up your pussy to your clit.

“My god, you taste so good like this.” He moaned against you.

“Do I really?”

“Yes, it’s intoxicating.”

Ford sucked your clit, rolling it with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. He slipped his fingers in your pussy, curling them at your g-spot. The increased sensitivity was definitely a thing, it wouldn’t take much longer for him to make you cum. You bucked yourself against him, tightening around is fingers, you were close.

“That’s it, let yourself cum on my tongue.” Ford cooed.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, cumming on his face with a loud moan. He didn’t let up, keeping at the same pace of both fingers and tongue. He coaxed a second orgasm, then a third. He finally stopped at six, leaving you an overwhelmed, shaking mess.

“Ohhhhhhh goddddd, Ford. You’re gonna kill meeeee.” You groaned.

“Sorry, stardust. The whole point of this was to relieve your pain and I just wanted to be thorough.”

He pulled out his fingers, licking them, then looked up at you. Blood covered the bottom half of his face.

You gave a weak laugh. “Ford, your face.”

“What? Oh!”

Ford wiped his mouth and chin clean with the edge of the towel. He moved himself to sit next to you, taking your face in his hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“How do you feel now? Better?” He whispered.

He leaned down to kiss you and you gave yourself a second to assess your pain. It was still there, but you had to admit he’d made a difference.

“I think so.”

“Good. Now, I could stop here, but do you want to continue?”

“I think such chivalry deserves to be rewarded.”

“Good girl. I’ve wanted to know for so long what being inside you during your time of the month feels like.”

Ford got off the bed and slipped his flannel pajama pants and boxers down his legs. He was already so hard for you, his cock twitching and leaking more precum than you’d ever seen from him before. You made a mental note to probe him for more of his kinks in the future if it meant working him up like this.

He returned to the bed, getting on top of you and angling his cock at your entrance. He slowly slipped inside you, immediately giving an insanely loud moan.

“D- dear Moses. You’re always so wet for me, but this is incredible. You feel so perfect.”

Ford began to thrust into you. Christ, he felt even better than usual.

“Holy fuuuuck, you weren’t kidding about the increased sensitivity.” You whimpered.

“I’m glad this is as pleasurable for you as it is for me, princess.”

You moved your hips back on him.

“Oh god, I swear you’re tighter. You’re practically constricting me.” Ford moaned.

“Sounds like we need to do this more often.”

“That we do.”

Ford picked up his pace, the wet sounds of your pussy increasing in volume.

“Oh my GOD, do you hear that? Do you hear how wet you are like this?” Ford asked.

He pulled out momentarily, sitting up on his knees and dragging you by your hips onto the tip of his cock. He threw your legs over his shoulders, slamming every inch inside you as you cried out in a deafening moan.

“God, I know you love this position, the way it allows me to go even- mmn, fuck- deeper. I’m not making your cramps worse am I?” Ford asked.

“No.”

“No? How does it feel then? And make sure to use your words, stardust.”

He slipped his fingers between your thighs, stroking your already beyond sensitive clit and moving his hips at a breakneck speed. He did this with the intention of overstimulating you, a game he played often to watch you struggle to answer him coherently.

“Nnnhh, I- I c- can’t. N- not f- fair.” You whimpered.

Ford smirked.

“I know, I’m the worst. I just love seeing you writhe underneath me.” He teased.

His breathing became heavy, his fast pace turning sloppy.

“I’m close, where do you want it, stardust?” He asked.

“I- In me, p- please.” You begged.

“God, you’re so good for me. Are you going to cum with me?”

You nodded.

“That’s my girl.”

Ford managed a few more thrusts before you came undone on his cock. The sensation of you pulsing around him caused him to give a moan and dig his nails into your calf, burying his entire length and cumming hot thick ropes deep inside you.

Words failed him for a moment, the only sounds being heavy breathing from the two of you before he finally spoke.

“H- how are you feeling? Good?” He panted, still attempting to catch his breath.

You nodded, incredibly overstimulated and unable to form a real sentence.

“I’m glad.” He said.

Ford pulled out and the both of you looked down. Blood coated not only his cock, but his and your thighs. Thankfully the towel prevented anything from staining the sheets. Ford gave a chuckle.

“Looks like we made more of a more of a mess than I had anticipated. How about I run hot bath to clean us up?” He asked, leaning down to kiss you.

“Stanford Pines, a gentleman as always. Sounds perfect.”

[risuola]

▶ COCOONED — one of those lazy mornings when you wake up trapped in a tangle of hands and legs.

contents: college+roommates!au, fluff — wc. 655

a/n: very short one, i'm still painting a little background to the friendship dynamics of our trio, but I wanna take this opportunity to thank you guys for supporting this little story I'm building here and also I wanna encourage you to help me out with it! if you have any ideas for entries, please let me know through ask box!

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

Taking care of your friends came easy for you. You were always like this, affectionate and protective. It was a way of showing love, through those subtle acts of tenderness and both Satoru and Suguru always thanked you for it, despite occasional teasing from their side. They were grateful for your selfless and kindhearted nature, just as you were grateful for the boundless protection you were granted ever since you got to know them. Any bully you ever stumbled upon quickly turned tail when met with the sight of your two guardians – always taller than others, always stronger and very ready to resolve issues (in more or less civilized ways).

It wasn’t a surprise that living together brought you even closer than before. It became a routine for you to help Satoru with his eyedrops first thing in the morning – because the boy has eyes of an angel but needs to protect them from harsh sunlight and environment. Then, you always make sure that a jar of Suguru’s favorite candy is full for him, so that he can pop one right after he takes his daily medicine – the one that he swears tastes like a rug somebody used to wipe up shit and vomit. They, on the other hand, never fail to help you at home or bring you sweets from the store.

One thing you were slightly uncertain about at the beginning of the one-bedroom journey was sleeping with them. You wondered if one day you’ll wake up to a black eye because of some random muscle twitch of either of them or they’ll squish you in the middle of the bed because of course you slept between them, but none of those things happened and it’s been months already. What took place, on the other hand, was evolvement of your friendship to a much more touchy one. It always came natural to you three to cuddle; you never minded their hands on your waist or legs and they never complained about you draping over them, but in one bed, it became much more intense. A progression of friendly intimacy that all three of you grew to love. A comfortable tangle of bodies that became a safe space to you and the boys, something that happened naturally and you wouldn’t have it any other way. And they wouldn’t change it either, but–

“Satoruu–! Suguuu–”

–but there were mornings like this one. You woke up trapped in a death grip of both boys, stuck against Suguru’s muscular chest and with Satoru’s strong arm wrapped around you. The white-haired head was nuzzled against your shoulder blades and as you tried to loosen up the cocoon, you ended up twisting your upper body unnaturally while your legs stayed lodged between four, much larger male ones. Your butt was pressed against Gojo’s stomach and his hand was resting below your ribs, long gone underneath the fabric of your stolen t-shirt. Long, black hair was tickling your face whenever you tried to move away from brunette’s bare pecks. Immobilized and resigned, you let out a deep exhale.

Thanks god it’s Sunday and you have nowhere to be – otherwise you’d be very late, as none of your friends seemed to be bothered by the sound of your voice calling them.

“Get back to sleep,” Toru mumbled sleepily against your back and somehow pulled you even closer to his chest and you could tell that as soon as he finished speaking, he was back in his slumber. His muffled voice did something to Suguru though, because the man hummed lowly, a sound akin to a purr. You felt his lips pressing to the top of your head and he was gone too, with his large hand resting on your hip and his bicep underneath your cheek. Helpless and surrendered, you tweaked your position to get comfortable and allowed your eyelids to drop, slowly succumbing back into the dreamland.

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