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alwayscorvus · 8 months ago

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"Too grumpy to handle" - How your relathioship with Gallagher began

"Too grumpy to handle" - How your relathioship with Gallagher began

malereader x older!Gallagher, fluff; warning! doing 18+/21+ acts hinted;

It's obvious that when you saw such a handsome man sitting alone at the bar, you just had to join him. You weren't saint. His look itself made you want to persue him. Seeing that pile of muscles peeking through unbuttoned shirt- his masculine, slightly bearded face- and what's more- this gentle eyes-... You felt something deep inside.

You, casualy took a seat next to the man. And he only threw you a quick glance.

Nevertheless, you didn't retreat from battlefield so easily. As every "typical player", you ordered two whiskeys with Cokes. For yourself and for him.

Old roadside bar was practically empty. Warm candlelight gently smoldered in a wooden room. No one was paying attention to you. Even bartender stayed back in his break room and left it only from time to time to serve some orders.

Gallagher accepted your drink without a word. Since he was already sitting there anyway, he could listen to you. Especially for free whiskey.

Besides, as you found out later, he was used to it. As a mixologist, he had listened to more than one drunk person in his life. And he often enjoyed taking their places. Especially after having a hard time in work.

It was one of those days when everything accumulated and he just had enough. Today's stowaway chase… Completely drained him out. Everyone demanded something from him. Superiors wanted him to solve cases as quickly as possible, without complaining. Subordinates hoped to find in him a support, role model and even better, someone who would do everything for them. Family waited for promotions and an ideal son who should have started his own household a long time ago and give them grandchildren.

That's why it's no wonder that all he wanted to do at that moment, was to give himself to you. Sink into your embrace. You were so warm, so affectionate-

This vibe of responsibility, masculinity, security, all the way urged him to let you take control.

Trying to act casual, he allowed you to lead the way, with intertwined hands. Up the shadowed stairs, to one of a rooms for rent. This for worn-out wanderers.

He wasn't sure why it happened. Such situations weren't common for him. Or at least never in such position. Everyone, seeing him, felt intimidated and took for granted his willingness to lead. And he just didn't protest. Just like now. He was so unbothered. When you sobered up, you even had some moral doubt. If for sure, you hadn't taken advantage of his weakness. He assured you, however, that if he really didn't feel like it, he would have kicked you in balls, handcuffed, arrested and lead you to the nearest police station.

Apparently this had happened to him more than once. Hearing that, a sudden shiver of terror went through you. You were so close to suffering a drastic consequences.

When it was all over, and you regained your strength, you turned your attention back to Gallagher.

He was sitting with his legs straight, leaning against the headboard of large bed. His lower body was covered by a white, soft duvet. You, on the other hand, were lying sideways, on a bent arm, almost snuggled into a cozy pillow.

You couldn't take your eyes off Gallagher. Glow of street lamps, crept into the bedroom through half-exposed window and tickled his slowly cooling body.

Gallagher carefully lit a cigarette, with a lighter he had earlier fished out of his pants, that had been tossed onto a floor. Orange, playful flame let you see his face in new colors.

He fixed strands of hair that were sticky from sweat and hid them behind his ear. Allowing you by that to get a closer look at his other features.

With each passing second, you began to like him more and more.

He threw a closed lighter to the edge of a bed and took a decent drag of nicotine.

At the same time, Gallagher stared at the wall in front of him. He was was thinking hard about something. Instead of paying attention to your presence.

When he let out a puff of smoke something tickled your nostrils.

He didn't even offer you a cigarette.

Perhaps you didn't look like a person who smoked too often. Or maybe your needs didn't really matter to him.

You weren't taken aback. You raised your free hand and gently began to draw a small circles on his firm chest. While doing so, you asked how was he feeling. If he was all right, if he wasn't in pain. Gallagher only hummed to you reassuringly, while still staring blankly into a space.

After a minute, however, perhaps pushed by your sudden affection, which he didn't expect, he stubbed his cigarette. Crushed it against a glass bottom of an ashtray and turned suddenly toward you. Like a large but harmless bear, he snuggled into your embrace. Surprising you quite a bit in the process. He hid his head in crook of your neck and decided to take advantage of his last moments with you.

After all, they were so nice. It was the first time in so long when he could really relax and feel so comfortable and safe. No one judged him.

Gallagher couldn't expect that you took him seriously and that you didn't plan to just leave him. Especially since you felt something more for him after that night.

You have permanently added yourself into his schedule. You visited him during work, brought food, and chatted. Gallagher wasn't very talkative, but your funny stories or anecdotes were able to provide him with an entertainment. He wouldn't admit it, but every workday, he looked forward to the hour when you would finally visit him. Most often it happened at a lunchtime. Sometimes completely out of the blue. And when you decided to come at the end of his shift Gallagher began to grind his teeth. Apparently, he was becoming even more grumpy than usual, and his co-workers couldn't stand his gloomy mood.

By the way, Gallagher liked to complain about them. This provided him with a great pleasure. An opportunity to speak out. Especially when his subordinates, as usual, did something wrong. Sure, they were young and inexperienced, but had they really not been taught anything at school?

You were the only way to soothe his nerver, other than a bottle of whiskey.

Gallagher, however, couldn't allow himself to think about anything else. You were too young for him.

Of course, you were already an adult, you had a job, your own apartment. You were also responsible and had enough experience in life to not treat it like a game. And your age difference at this phase wasn't really a problem anymore, since neither of you had been teenagers for a long time.

But Gallagher insisted that you deserved someone better, younger. With whom you could still enjoy and experience a lot. Go through stages that Gallagher had long since passed.

You repeatedly tried to knock this silly thinking out of his head. You assured him that all this didn't matter to you, as long as you could be with him. That he is the perfect one for you, exactly the way he is. That you are not looking for anyone younger, because no one will provide what he does. And that he is the one with whom you want to experience all these beautiful moments together.

When Gallagher understood that you weren't planning to surrender, he gave up. He hoped that maybe after some time you would get bored. Especially, after living together. He thought that after experiencing his "non-ideal" form in a daily domestic routine, you will decide to look for someone else. Oh, how wrong he was.

Now? Now you are a happy couple and make an almost perfect match. At least that's what your friends say. Sure, you have small quarrels occasionally. About his not closed shoe polish or your coffee grounds left in a cup. But despite this, nothing gives you as much pleasure as spending time together, in your four walls.

… Only sometimes you're maybe a little too jealous. About how many buttons Gallagher wears undone and how loosely his tie is. But at such moments, man assures you that he is only yours and lets you snuggle into his chest. In the afternoons, when he comes home and you have a sulky face and don't greet him with usual "welcome home".

Over the next few days, he obeys your suggestions and buttons up to almost every last thing. Besides, he has no other choice. You mark him too much at such occasions. And Gallagher doesn't really want his co-workers to see your bites and tease him about that.

🌸

#fanfic #fanfiction #scenarios #tmr #x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail imagines #hsr #hsr x male reader #x male reader #gallagher hsr #gallagher x male reader #gallagher #gallagher x reader #honkai x reader #male reader #top male reader #mxm #x top male reader

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heliads · 11 months ago

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LISA REQUESTS ARE OPEN AHHHH!!! I have been waiting for this moment!!

Could I pretty please request Steven Meeks (my beloved) with a female reader? The reader is a student at Welton who’s disguised herself and pretended to be a boy at her family’s request since Welton doesn’t accept girls but she was smart enough to get in and her family wanted her to have a good education. Since she’s friends with Neil and Charlie, she gets invited to be a part of the Dead Poets Society, and because of that she gets to know Meeks and gets closer to him, but she feels terrible about lying to him. So one night at a Dead Poets meeting, she stands up and admits to being a girl, and though she’s terrified about them reacting badly the other Dead Poets promise not to tell anyone because she’s their friend (except for Cameron, obvs, but the others kind of bully him into promising). And then afterwards she has a one-on-one conversation with Meeks where she tells him how she feels and he admits he feels the same (and maybe he even felt the same about her when he thought she was a boy but was scared to say anything) and it’s just really cute?

Of course, if you don’t wanna write this that’s totally cool!! Thanks in advance, and I hope you’re doing well, beloved!! <3

'the secrets that we keep' - steven meeks

masterlist

a/n: in the fic, b/n stands for boy name. since reader is pretending to be a boy, you need a boy name for Vibes and Plot

Although dutifully called on by schoolboys to change the age-old protocol, Welton Academy has never admitted a girl to their brilliant ranks. For reasons of religious purity, single-minded pursuit of study, and otherwise knowing how easily distracted teenage boys are by a pretty face, the doors of this bright school have shut in the face of willing and able female candidates for years. It is a long-standing rule, as familiar as not running in the halls or sneaking off campus to engage in underage drinking. Similarly, this rule is about to be ignored by yet another student, and this one is you.

Headmaster Nolan firmly intended to maintain this rule. Your parents wanted a good education for their daughter. Never before has such a violent clash rocked the hills of Vermont. Not in a while, at least. It took many, many heated arguments and a good deal of defensive letters, plus a promise to secure an internship at a nearby hospital for the son of Headmaster Nolan’s good friend, a certain Mr. Perry. Also, you would have to promise to keep the whole girl thing under wraps.

This may seem impossible, but they were the terms of your acceptance to the prestigious school, and you were willing to live by them. No doubt Headmaster Nolan would be watching you like a hawk for even the smallest of slip ups, but you don’t intend to give him even a second of victory over you. You’ll play according to his rules, and you’ll ace your classes at the same time. Wouldn’t it be funny if one of Welton’s brightest pupils was a girl?

These were the sorts of thoughts that helped tide you over the summer until your first day of school. When that inevitable day came around, though, you couldn’t help but feel paranoia wrap around your stomach with cold, digging claws. This whole idea seemed impossible. How could you possibly pretend to be a boy the whole time you were at the school? You could cut your hair short and deepen your voice, stomp around the halls and act as if you were just like the rest, but what a thing to do. Still, whenever you think about quitting, you think about the triumphant expression on the headmaster’s face, knowing he’d assigned you the one task he thought impossible. If you were going to do anything, you could at least prove him wrong.

With this mindset in place, you move your belongings into Welton. You’ve been given a single room, as the headmaster decided that having a roommate would only complicate things. Smart move there; it might be difficult to hide your evident lack of masculinity from someone who’d be with you around the clock.

There are plenty of singles in the Welton dorms, the students placed inside for various reasons. It’s nothing uncommon. Still, it does draw a fair amount of attention during move-in, as students pretend not to openly stare at you while you’re unpacking your luggage to see what kind of kid could manage to pull the lucky slot of a dorm room all to themselves.

One group of boys in particular seems keen on making your acquaintance, although their attention, unlike that of many of the other students coincidentally passing by your door, seems pleasant instead of demanding. Their apparent leader, Neil Perry, drops by to say hello. Always glad to see a new face, or so he’d claimed.

Neil was the first, quickly followed by his new roommate, Todd Anderson, plus Neil’s best friend, Charlie Dalton. An additional entourage of Gerard Pitts and Steven Meeks joined them soon enough, and a redheaded Richard Cameron followed up the tour, although judging by the not-so-subtle hostility in everyone’s glances his way, Cameron would be the least favored of the whole group.

At first, you’re terrified to have that much attention directed your way. Your goal was to skate under the radar, only making friends when you absolutely had to so you could both avoid detection and focus on your studies. Although it might make for a lonelier experience, staying undercover was far more important. Your parents were sacrificing a lot to keep you in Welton’s halls. You couldn’t afford to disappoint them by getting caught all because you started feeling alone.

However, none of the boys seem to notice that you’re not what you claim. They take up your explanation of having recently moved there readily enough, as it would explain why they’d never heard of your boy name before. You picked that one out earlier that month as if it were a new notebook or yet another school supply: B/N. It’ll be tricky to remember to respond to that name, but no trickier than any other part of this little scheme.

Besides, once classes start to kick up, all of you have far bigger fish to fry than unraveling the precise identities of the latest addition to the friend group. Soon, questions about where you grew up and how you managed to get yourself cast down to Hellton are replaced with frantic trig study sessions and grievous Latin complaints.

If there’s one class none of you seem to mind at all, though, it would be English. The other boys heard rumors that you’d be getting a new teacher, but none of them knew a thing about this Mr. Keating. The general consensus is that English this term would be no different from English at any other time of year; plenty of assigned readings, loads of essays required to be written under short durations, and all of the other joys that a required literature course often brings.

This, however, was not to be the case. From the moment Mr. Keating opened his mouth, all of you knew you’d be in for a treat. Some of you were less hesitant to embrace Mr. Keating into your hearts, namely Cameron, but the rest of you have been quick to appreciate what you have. For once, you’re having fun in class. Who could have an issue with that?

And, when Neil swoops by your seat and asks you if you’d be willing to engage in the first meeting of the new Dead Poets Society out in the woods that evening, you know that the impact your new teacher has on his students is far more drastic than even you’d envisioned. You agree readily, and the rest of your friends look pleased with themselves for managing to boost their numbers with such an agreeable fellow.

If there was one boy who looked the happiest that you’d be joining them after hours, you’d have to say that it was Steven Meeks. Although he may not be the loudest of the set, Steven has quickly been rising through the ranks in your mind. He’s been working on this radio set almost nonstop with Pitts, but every time Steven accomplishes even the smallest of achievements, he immediately has to put everything aside to rush to your side and tell you all about it. It’s wonderful to watch him, how his eyes light up as he talks, hands waving wildly in the air while he talks about receiving signals and communication potential.

You should know better than to get attached. There is a significant chance that your whole ruse will be revealed sooner rather than later, and you’ll be unceremoniously removed from Welton, never to speak to any of these boys again. Still, watching Steven’s ginger curls fall messily about his bright eyes, tracing the path of his hand absentmindedly combing back the strands so he can focus on repeating the information he’s just learned, you can’t help but wonder if maybe this one connection wouldn’t be so bad. Your friends wouldn’t turn you in.

Besides, cutting yourself off from Steven sort of feels like chopping off a limb. When the lot of you sneak out from the dorms that evening, running and howling through the forest, Steven stays by your side the entire time. Dry leaves crunch underfoot, and the moon hangs low and bright overhead. Your heart beats erratically from its cage in your ribs, and you wonder how you could ever have been afraid of something like this. This is living, you decide. You and Steven in the endless night, laughing like crazy, more free than you’ve ever been even as you live your greatest lie.

The first meeting of the Dead Poets Society is a wild success. You take turns reading off various stanzas and prose, alternating between oohing appreciatively at a particularly good turn of phrase and teasing each other wholeheartedly whenever someone provides the opportunity. Despite the jokes, the atmosphere in the cave is reverential, almost. Everyone believes in the strange spirit that’s bewitched all of you, the knowledge that what you’re doing here will make you gods of men. It’s entrancing and awe-inspiring and the first thing you ask the next morning is when all of you will be meeting up to do it again.

Charlie breaks into raucous laughter. “See, that’s the spirit we want! Even B/N here wants more. We’re high off poetry, imagine that.”

You scowl at him, even as the others laugh along. “What do you mean, even B/N? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Charlie rolls his eyes. “Nothing, honestly. Just that you didn’t seem all that inclined to hang out with us at the start of the semester, that’s all. We got worried you didn’t like us so much, but obviously that’s not so anymore.”

You arch a brow incredulously. “Of course I like you guys! Would I put up with Neil’s monologues if I didn’t? Or Cameron’s bullshit? Or all of you howling in a cave past midnight so we can pay homage to dead poets worldwide?”

Steven snorts, more at the disbelieving look on Cameron’s face than anything else. “Now that’s a vote of sympathy if you’ll ever get one. I, for one, never doubted you.”

Charlie scoffs loudly. “Of course you didn’t, Steven. Anyone who listens to you ramble on about the benefits of the modern radio as much as B/N would have to be your best friend. Honestly, I’m surprised that didn’t scare him off more than anything else.”

Steven’s face falls, and to cover up for it, you say quickly, “I don’t mind the radio talk. Honest. It’s interesting.”

“Sure it is,” Charlie says a little too loudly, “So’s the company. Anyway, B/N’s right. How about tomorrow night for another meeting? Bring your best limericks, I want to be entertained.”

Neil breaks into choking laughter. “Absolutely, your highness. All your jesters will do their best to make you crack a smile.”

“It’s an honor and a privilege, you know that,” Charlie defends himself.

As you watch the friend group devolve into cackling laughter, you can’t help but meet Steven’s eyes across the table. Instead of getting caught up in the mock argument between Charlie and Neil, he hasn’t lost focus on you for one instant. When he catches you looking, he smiles quietly and mouths, thank you. You smile back.

The meetings of the illustrious Dead Poets Society carry on for weeks. As they go, you realize that you’ve never had friends like these, and it feels as if you never will. They’re the best, brightest bunch of boys in the world. You trust them more than you do anyone else. Those sacred spaces in the caves off campus, baptized by moonlight and wild imagination, make you feel more like you than anything else.

Except, of course, for one secret that still hangs in your way.

You haven’t told anyone that you’re a girl. Your silence carries with it the weight of your studies at Welton. If you want to stay, no one can know. It’s as easy as that. Still, in the quiet, happy moments when the wild laughter fades and you’re left looking around at the faces of the boys who have become your brothers, you can’t help but wonder if maybe you could tell them after all. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they knew. Maybe they would even help you maintain your cover.

It would be nice to have a little bit of this burden off of your shoulders, after all. It feels as if every waking moment not spent studying is chained to making this lie work. Every time someone talks to you, you’re certain they’ve figured you out. This sort of paranoia is driving you mad, and being able to finally share the secret feels like a relief akin to offering a drink of water to a man dying of thirst.

The opportunity to share comes up sooner than you expected. At one of the Dead Poets Society’s meetings, Neil turns to you with a slight frown when they’re asking around for someone else to share a piece.

“B/N, do you want to go next? You’ve been quiet all meeting, I don’t want to speak over you accidentally.”

You shake your head a little too quickly. “No, no, I’m good. Just thinking.”

This, more than anything, attracts attention. Charlie grins, leaning over to you dramatically. “Thinking about what? World domination?”

You snort. “I’ll leave those plans to you, thanks.”

“Come on, B/N, talk to us,” Neil urges. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. This is it, your chance. They’re all here, all willing to hear you out. If not now, then when?

“Alright,” you begin, “There is something I do need to say. I’ve, uh, been keeping a secret from you. A pretty big one.”

Charlie arches a brow. “A big secret? Let me guess, you’re secretly a teacher in disguise sent to keep an eye on us.”

This would usually elicit a laugh from you, but tonight you’re so worried about getting this right that you can’t even muster up a weak chuckle. “Not quite, Charlie. I’m–” The words dry up in your throat. How do you say this, after all this time?

The other boys stare at you expectantly. You’ve started now, you can’t back out anymore. “I’m a girl,” you say in a rush. “My parents wanted me to get a good education so they sent me to Welton. The headmaster really didn’t want to let me in, but he only allowed me to enroll if no one knew I was a girl. He said he didn’t want to mess with his pristine record of only letting boys inside or something. It’ll still show up on my college record that I went here, and he wouldn’t have to handle the difficulty of more girl students. I’ve been pretending to be a boy this whole time, but I’m not. I’m a girl.”

The words hang in the air. For once, the cave is absolutely silent. You can hear quiet breathing all around you, nothing more. Your eyes are fixed on the stone in front of you, resolutely refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. You’re certain that if you were to look up, you’d only see disgust or disbelief on their faces. This was their sacred space, and you’ve broken it to bits with your secret. You never should have told them. You never should have thought you could pull this off in the first place.

Just when you’re debating the merits of running for the dorms to get out of here, Charlie starts clapping loudly. You jerk up, expecting him to be mocking you, but instead his expression is celebratory. “Let’s go!” He says. “I’ve been waiting for a girl to go here forever. Of course Headmaster Nolan would be an asshole about it. Wow. Can you get more of your friends to enroll, too?”

You stare at him incredulously. “You’re not mad?”

Neil breaks in. “Why on earth would we be mad? That’s totally cool. You’re like a spy or something. We should write a poem about it. Maybe even a play.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “It would be an honor to be your muse, Neil. But seriously, you’re all fine with it?”

“Of course we are,” Charlie assures you. “Jesus, have you really been worried about that? What were we going to do, kick you out? Your secret’s safe with us. We’re not rats.”

“We’re not?” Cameron chooses this moment to pipe up.

Immediately, he’s hit with death glares from every other boy in the cave. “No, we’re not,” Neil says firmly. “And if anyone even hints to an administrator or other student that B/N’s not a boy, they’ll get their ass kicked. Is that understood?”

Cameron nods, not meeting your eyes. Still, you have a feeling he’ll keep your secret.

Pitts raises a hand. “If you’re not a boy, is B/N your real name?”

“No,” you answer him. “I’m actually Y/N.”

“Sick name,” Charlie comments.

You swat him on the shoulder. “Shut up, Charlie.”

“Nuwanda,” he says in a dramatically injured tone.

Just like that, the tension is diffused. Once you’ve been assured a few more times that no one will say a word about your inherent lack of boyhood, the agenda turns back to poetry more. It’s like nothing even happened, except everything did. Your friends still support you. You feel more free than you could have even imagined, knowing that everything worked out.

On the way back to the dorms, you hang back a little, wanting to take in the events of the past hour by yourself. Steven notices and joins you.

“So,” he says quietly, “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” you affirm. “It’s not too weird, is it?”

“Trust me, it’s not,” Steven says. “This actually answers a lot of questions for me.”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

It’s hard to tell in the darkness of night, but you swear his cheeks have started to heat up. “Well, I realized– or, I thought, really, I was sort of still deciding that for myself, I mean– Well, Y/N, I think I love you.”

Silence in the forest. “You love me?” You ask cautiously.

Steven scratches his head. “Yeah, I do. Hadn’t really admitted it to myself yet because I thought you were a boy. There was a lot of reflection going on. This makes a lot more sense, though.”

You can’t help it, but break into laughter. “I’m fascinated by that. What have the past few weeks been like for you?”

“Very confusing,” he answers. “Still a lot of questions left unanswered.”

“Like what?” You ask.

“Like if you like me,” he says quietly.

You smile again. “Well, I thought that one was obvious. I love you too.”

Steven stops walking completely. “Really?”

“Really,” you laugh. “Now come on, we have to get back to our dorms before an administrator notices we’re gone.”

Steven sighs dramatically. “The administrators are the last thing I want to talk about right now.”

You think your smile might never fade. “Me too. We’ve got plenty of time for that, though.”

Plenty of time indeed. The rest of this term, then on and on until both you and Steven can sum up perfectly what it feels like to be absolutely happy. For now, though, you think you’ll let the sensation of him taking your hand for the first time to lead you back through the forest do the explaining for you.

requested by @faerieroyal, i hope you enjoy!

dead poets society tag list: empty for now!

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#steven meeks #steven meeks imagines #steven meeks x reader #steven meeks oneshot #meeks #meeks imagines #meeks x reader #meeks oneshot #dead poets society #dead poets society imagines #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society oneshot #dps #dps imagines #dps x reader #dps oneshot #dead poets society meeks

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hanbindans · 2 years ago

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BIG SPOON OR LITTLE SPOON??? 🎤🎤

a/n: I wrote this on impulse at 1 am and I have no regrets. I think I'm right btw but feel free to argue with me in the reblogs or comments if you want because I want friends. lowercase intended (I'm on desktop fight me if you want) also this is SATIRE in case it's not clear

jiwoong

big spoon all the way. little spoon makes him a little uncomfortable. like what if you bite him between the shoulder blades?? if he wants to be held he needs to be face-to-face with you so he can keep track of your moves and make sure you're not planning to attack him.

zhang hao

hmmm. mostly big spoon but it depends on his mood. sometimes after a long day dealing with people not as smart as him (everyone) he needs to be restrained as the little spoon so he doesn't go feral and commit any crimes. and he likes it when his back gets all warm and he can calm down 😗.

hanbin

little spoon but he doesn't know it. insists on being big spoon because it makes him feel like he's protecting you but actually he is the one who needs to be protected. we all need to be protect hanbin at all costs. he DESERVES to be little spoon.

taerae

50% big spoon and 50% little spoon. he doesn't really care. you had a bad day? taerae is big spoon that day. he had to walk home in the rain? YOU'RE big spoon so he can warm up. a king who is secure in his masculinity.

matthew

little spoon by default but he wants to be big spoon so bad he will actually wrestle you so he can get behind you. I believe he is pretty strong though he will give great cuddles as big spoon with those arms. makes you pretty warm and toasty.

ricky

too cool for little spoon. has to be big spoon every time this is simply not up for discussion with him. just go with it. and to be fair he is a pretty good big spoon because mans got them custom sized limbs perfect for holding another human.

gyubin

hmm.... I say little spoon at heart but big spoon by default because there is no big spooning this boy, the only other option is being his jetpack. he'd rather have his head cradled to your chest as his limbs cling to you because it has similar vibes to little spoon, just without the little. you should still ask for him to be big spoon sometimes though because I feel like he would be pretty warm.

gunwook

75% big spoon and 25% little spoon. imo he should be little spoon-ed more but once again his height is kind of working against him on this one. but he also wants to be big spoon most of the time so it's all good in the end. be sure to be his jetpack once in a while tho so bro can fill his cuddles quota.

#zb1 scenarios #zerobaseone scenarios #zb1 reactions #zb1 imagines #zb1 fluff #zb1 drabbles #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone drabbles #zb1 #zerobaseone #kim jiwoong #sung hanbin #zhang hao #kim taerae #seok matthew #shen ricky #kim gyuvin #park gunwook

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merrybloomwrites · 1 year ago

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Harryween

Summary: Harry dons a Dorothy costume for Harryween and reader thinks he's never looked better.

Warnings: Smut, p-in-v sex

AN: My fyp was full of Harry in his Dorothy costume this morning so I decided to write the filthiest thing I've ever written at 6a.m. Enjoy!

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In the time that you and Harry have been together you’ve seen him wear hundreds of different outfits. From the sweats he relaxes in at home to the fancy clothes he puts on for events and his concerts, everything looks good on him.

But nothing could have prepared you for October 30, 2021.

You’ve been to plenty of Harry’s shows, and while you sometimes stay backstage while he gets dressed, more often than not you leave before that so you can be surprised by his attire just like everyone else. This has led to a fair number of times where you’ve had to quickly calm yourself to keep your jaw from literally dropping.

But tonight. Harryween night one. This is by far the hardest night to keep your cool. The second Harry skips on stage in his Dorothy costume everything else fades away. You’re so focused on watching him that you don’t even hear the first song or the screaming fans around you. All that exists is Harry. Harry in that little dress with the cute tights and delicate bloomers. Harry with his hair in a bow and blush on his cheeks. Your thoughts are absolutely sinful. And they stay that way.

Normally you have a pretty good grasp on yourself. Even when your boyfriend is literally hip thrusting and sliding his hands down his toned body on stage, you can get your mind out of the gutter. But not tonight. No matter how hard you try, nothing is helping to get rid of the now persistent ache in your belly. Because the show is more than halfway over, and you’ve been turned on the entire time to the point that it’s becoming painful. There’s nothing you can do to try and ease the tension and you feel like you’re putting on just as much of a show as Harry is in order to hide your dirty thoughts.

All through the show your mind was playing through different scenarios of what to do when you get him alone in your hotel suite. At first you thought this might be a night to pull out your strap on and harness. You imagine how pretty he’d look under you, his skirt hiked up as you slide into him over and over. You think of the face he’ll make when you find that special spot, how his chest will turn as pink as his cheeks.

Even though his outfit was inherently “feminine” he had never before looked so manly, so in tune with his masculine side. That was the moment you realized you needed him inside of you; needed him as hard and as deep as possible. Unfortunately, this realization was during the third song of the night and you knew you’d be suffering in want for well over an hour.

You’re practically weak in the knees by the time the intro to Kiwi starts, and the second the last note is played you rush to the car that’s waiting for you and Harry.

You make it there a minute before he does and the anticipation of him joining you in the enclosed space dressed the way he’s dressed has you even more turned on.

He slides in the backseat next to you. And it’s torture. Because there’s still the driver and security guard in the front seats and now you can see Harry up close, and he looks even better than you thought. In addition to the makeup, he has a post-show glow and you find yourself taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart.

“You alright? Your cheeks are as pink as mine.” Harry’s sudden words startle you out of your daydreams and into reality.

You look into his eyes and his concerned face immediately turns into a knowing smirk. He can’t say anything he wants to, not with company in the front of the car, but he can’t pass up an opportunity to tease you. He slides a hand to your thigh under your poofy skirt and slowly drags it up. When he reaches your center he ghosts his fingertips over your panties. He doesn’t even need to slip inside of them or put any pressure to feel how wet you are. They’re absolutely drenched. You’re dripping with arousal, probably have been for nearly two hours. The realization sends Harry blood south, and he’s grateful that all his layers should hide his growing erection.

The rest of the car ride, as well as the time in the elevator, is charged with sexual tension. Finally, you’re in the privacy of your hotel suite. Before you even get to the bedroom you’re on him, desperately pressing kisses to his lips. He follows your lead for a moment before pulling back, deciding that he still wants to tease you a bit. It’s been a while since you were so worked up and he loves to see you this way, to know the effect he has on you.

You try to pull him in for a deep kiss but he’s only allowing small pecks. You finally groan in frustration, and he has the nerve to ask you what’s wrong. His voice indicates he knows exactly what he’s doing, and part of you wants to slap him for being such a tease. But a bigger part of you just wants to do whatever it takes to get him into bed. So you refrain from violence.

“Please,” you say, not above begging at this point.

“Please what?” he asks, even though the flush of your cheeks and fully dilated pupils alone are enough to tell him what you want.

“I need you.”

“Ah, so you’re a needy little thing tonight huh? What’s got you feeling this way?”

“You, Harry.”

“Hmm, I think it’s something else. What specifically has you so worked up?”

You roll your eyes at this, how he keeps asking questions he knows the answers to just to tease you and delay giving you what you really want. You play along, hoping that it will speed up this process.

“It’s this outfit, okay? The dress and the bloomers and the tights and the makeup and the hair and all of it! Not sure what it says about me that you in a dress is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, but fuck, this is literally the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve been turned on since the second you stepped on stage and it’s honestly becoming painful at this point so can you please, please, fuck me? And don’t act like you’re not horny too, cause your dick’s obviously hard enough to tent that skirt even with the layers underneath.”

After that outburst Harry just stares at you for a moment while you catch your breath.

“Yea, you’re not wrong,” he says simply with a shrug before giving in. He lifts you over his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed and crashes his lips into yours. Your mouth immediately opens as you let out a satisfied moan, happy to finally be connected to him. His tongue slides against yours as his hands roam your torso. You slip your hands into his hair, careful not to mess up his bow or smudge his makeup. He helps you out of your outfit, lips never straying too far as he sponges kisses onto each bit of skin he reveals.

You’re loving every second of this, but your body is begging for more.

“Please, Harry, I’m so empty. I need you.”

He can’t pretend like your words don’t drive him absolutely wild, and he rushes to slide off his bloomers, tights, and underwear. He sees you pout and says, “Lovie, I can’t fuck you with three layers of clothes covering my dick.” Even as aroused as he is, he can’t help but be endeared by the cute, disappointed look on your face.

You know he’s right and grudgingly reply, “Fine. But the dress stays on.”

“Of course the dress stays on,” he agrees before crashing his lips back to yours. Now free of his undergarments, he lines his cock up with your dripping entrance. You cry out in relief as he slides into you. Your eyes slam shut with the intensity of finally getting what you want, but once you realize what you’ve done you open them again. You don’t want to miss a moment of this.

Harry looks downright ethereal above you. He’s practically glowing and his muscled arms and chest peaking out beneath the dress are driving you wild. The skirt billows between you both with every thrust, tickling your belly in a new sensation that’s somehow adding to the pleasure.

He’s setting a fast pace, one that’s normal for you both, but tonight you want more. You want him to completely let go.

“Harder,” you say, sounding nearly breathless already.

Harry gives you a look before asking, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, please, go harder,” you say more firmly this time.

His mouth meets yours again in a searing kiss and he listens to you, pounding into you harder and faster that he ever has before. There’s a second where you wonder why you’ve been holding back all this time, but after a few thrusts you are no longer capable of such deep thinking. All you know is Harry, his mouth and tongue on yours, his cock slamming into you in a way that has your mind whiting out. He knows you’re close and goes to slide his fingers against your clit. For a moment he has trouble getting under his dress but finally hits his target.

It only takes another minute before you come so hard that you’re seeing stars. Your back arches and mouth opens in a silent scream. Harry presses kisses to your face, neck, chest, anywhere he can find as he continues to trust into you chasing his own end. You’re coming down from your high, riding out the aftershocks when Harry reaches his orgasm. You watch as his eyes, so delicate with his makeup, slam shut, and his pretty pick lips drop open. More pleasant shocks roll through your body as you feel him emptying inside of you.

You both catch your breath before Harry slides out of you. Even though he’s gentle you still hiss at the slight discomfort.

“I’m so sorry, did I go too hard?” he asks.

You smile and shake your head, saying “No, baby, that was perfect. You were perfect. Exactly what I wanted.” He smiles in reply, pressing a simple kiss to your forehead before he gets out of bed. He reaches a hand towards you and says, “Shower with me?” Even though you just want to fall asleep, you can’t say no to that invitation.

You follow him to the bathroom, and he turns the shower on before taking the clip out of his hair. He sees you pouting again and doesn’t need to ask what the problem is. “I can’t live in this dress forever,” he tells you with a laugh.

“I know. That’s probably a good thing. Don’t think we’d ever get anything done if you looked like this all the time. Can I help you take it off?”

“Of course, baby,” he replies.

After showering, you’re laying together in bed. Harry plugs his phone into the charger and sees that it’s after midnight.

“Happy Halloween lovie,” he says, and you wish him the same.

A few minutes later Harry’s snoring gently beside you and you realize that there’s another show the next night. You fall asleep praying he doesn’t wear another dress; you’re almost positive you wouldn’t survive if he did.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading!

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x you

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overdressedcarp · 3 months ago

Note

Aventurine, Dr. Ratio, and Ruan Mei for the character ask! (Love ur Aventio fic btw).

Thank you for the ask! I had fun doing these. (Also I'm glad you're enjoying the fic! I am sitting in my authorial hobbit hole with a big smile on my face.)

Aventurine

Clarifications (yellow boxes):

I don't see as many bad Aventurine takes as I do for Ratio, but I do think his rough edges often get watered down in a way that either justifies or ignores his canonical flaws. So "they got done dirty by fans" and "wow! they are a horrible person" both get soft nods because I think his character deserves to be both sympathetic and kind of an ass sometimes. (The other issue I see is people acting like he's vulnerable and helpless, which is just. fundamentally not true? He's not as secure in himself as he pretends to be, but he is a ruthlessly competent strategist, and he knows how to read people and give them what they want to see. He's a member of the Ten Stonehearts for a reason.)

"If they were real I would be afraid of them" alright let me explain. The 2.1 story did a masterful job of humanizing Aventurine, but his first impressions in 2.0 were fine-tuned to be unnerving, and it was really effective for me as a player. For a while I couldn't articulate why it made me uncomfortable, but @starcurtain did a great analysis on female influence in Aventurine's life, which touched on how his early interactions with the Trailblazer are designed to be intimidating and off-putting in a way that channels the sort of masculine dominance Aventurine has historically experienced at the hands of other men. Suffice to say: if it served his plans for me to be afraid of him, he knows how to do it, and it would work.

Also I forgot to mark "why do they look like that" on the bingo but I do think Hoyo should have given him more melanin considering how deeply Romani-coded his culture is. Everything else about his design slaps though.

Ratio

Clarifications:

"Wasted potential" is subjective because I've loved every moment we've gotten of Ratio onscreen, but damn do I want the game to delve deeper into his backstory and his dynamics with other characters (I'm still sad that so far Aventurine is the only character that has a voice line about him).

"Deeper than they seem" and "not as deep as they seem" exist in a paradoxical state for me because I do think some folks stop at the surface reading of "arrogant asshole" when he's got way more going on in his character stories and his actions in canon... but I also think some people err on the side of taking him too seriously, in a way that likewise takes something away from his character. Like, this is the guy who plays chess with himself and trash-talks from both sides of the table like a goddamn cartoon character. He owns at least one rubber duck and takes a bath with it every day. He likes all of Aventurine's social media posts and replies "Heh." to anything he finds vaguely amusing. This is not a serious man.

"Why do they look like that" okay I need to clarify that this is not a criticism. I love Ratio's design. The neoclassical vibes are impeccable. But it's also extra in a way that I feel morally obligated to call out, considering how much he rags on Aventurine for dressing like a peacock. Sir, you walk around in robes and sandals with an alabaster bust on your head; you have no room to talk about subtle fashion choices.

Ruan Mei

Clarifications:

Ruan Mei gets both "they are so cool looking" and "why do they look like that" because I love the theory behind her design (the DNA elements, the embroidery and floral imagery, the qipao paired with the pearl necklace) but she also has the unfortunate distinction of being a female character in a Hoyoverse game, so the more unique details fall prey to the homogenizing force of the male gaze.

Another case of "they got done dirty by fans" and "wow! they are a terrible person" existing in tandem, but in Ruan Mei's case I think some people reduce her down to her worst qualities without acknowledging the more complex aspects of her character. Her unchecked pursuit of knowledge leads to her doing Objectively Bad Things, but I don't think it's a fair (or particularly interesting) reading to portray her as heartless.

I thought about marking "wasted potential" because imo 1.6 wasn't nearly enough to delve into Everything Going on with This Woman, but it seems like they're setting up something for a future patch, so I'm content to wait and see what the writers have planned. I'm really excited to find out what she's doing with those leviathan fossils and Tingyun's wrecked ship.

Link to the character bingo template

#aventurine #dr ratio #ruan mei #honkai star rail #box of asks #ask game #rin of destiny

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ciaossu-imagines · 2 months ago

Note

Morinozuka Takashi realizing he’s in love

Of course, anon dear! Thank you for sending in this request and I hope you’ll enjoy the headcanons 😊

A lot of people would assume, given his quiet, reserved, stoic nature and how much of himself he devotes to other people, that Mori would be someone that isn’t that in touch with his own emotions. Or they might assume that, even if he feels a lot of things, that he’s someone who might get mired down in a lot of toxic masculinity to keep up the outside appearance he has of someone cool, masculine, and dignified.

While it’s somewhat reasonable that other’s might make those assumptions about him, the fact of the matter is that those assumptions couldn’t be further from the reality of the situation.

Mori is a man who is not only able to observant to other’s situations and behaviours, and attuned into their emotions, he’s someone who is quite in touch with his own emotions. He’s pretty able to identify what he’s feeling, he allows himself to feel his emotions, and he can control them well enough.

Mori is going to realize that he’s attracted to someone early on. However, he’s not rushing into anything based on just attraction. He’s not someone who moves fast, based off whims and emotions. Mori is slow and steady, both in his emotions, how he acts on those emotions, and just in how he lives his life in general.

He will make efforts, once he recognizes the attraction, to spend more time around the person. He observes them, learns about them, and while he doesn’t talk much, he does make an effort, as best as he can, to start conversations with them. He genuinely is interested in getting to know them, to learn more about them, to see what kind of person they truly are. Half of it is the thrill of being around someone he is feeling that magnetic attraction to, the rush of feel-good hormones that surge through him in their presence, but he also has the ulterior motive of wanting to learn if the person he’s attracted is someone he can continue to be attracted to.

He’s a little picky, honestly, in the people he truly falls for. Just attraction is not enough for Mori. For him to go from attraction to a serious, committed relationship to then truly falling in love with a person, they need to be someone he connects with on a deeper emotional and spiritual level. They need to have good morals, they need to be kind, they need to match up with him in as many ways as is needed before he will fall in love like that.

When it comes time to confess his love to them, Mori’s partner will likely realize it before he even tells them. It won’t be a surprise because they’ll have gotten used to his presence and habits, which will have changed in small ways in the days leading up to when Mori has decided to officially say it.

He wants the occasion to be special, after all, so he has been planning something special.

Just to make it clear – Mori is not going to say those three special words to someone he has not been dating for a long time, long enough to actually feel secure and confident that what he is feeling is genuinely and truly love.

If he wants to confess to someone before that, in an effort to get into a relationship with them, he’s likely to choose other words, telling the person that he cares deeply about them, that they’re special to him, or things along those lines.

#replies #ouran high school host club #ohshc #headcanons #morinozuka takashi #takashi morinozuka

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henrioo · 9 months ago

Note

Hey man, if you're up for it, totally cool if you aren't and I hope you feel better soon♡ I know how it feels to be in that dysphoria, just remember you aren't alone.

Request wise, if they are open, definitely ignore if not or if you aren't in the right mindset or just mood in general to write. May I request a comfort hc with Ace, like they are cuddling and Ace gently caresses his boyfriend's top surgery scars, silently reaffirming his love and how he accepts him?

Either way have a lovely day/night/afternoon, whenever you receive this. ♡♡

°•*⁀➷ THE BEST PILLOW: ACE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Sometimes you just need someone to remember how much you are loved and supported. Of course Ace, your boyfriend, is always ready to give you some of his love and appreciation besides a lot of support."

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : TRANS MASC! READER, MALE READER, MALE PRONOUNS, top surgery, mastectomy surgery, mentions surgery scars, mentions about body dysphoria, mentions about growing up in a transphobic society with transphobic rules, non explicit mention of post surgery, pls tell me if I forgot something triggering

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,4k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Do you still love me even if I take years to deliver your ask? Do you? Probably not but here it is, I loved this ask but I think I put too much context in the part of the top surgery of the reader and not too much comfort and affirmations. But still here, also all things about the readers feelings about the surgery are only my own feelings about my chest in general, so not everyone will identify with that. Also I don't have made the top surgery yet so I can't tell for sure how someone would feel, still hope you like.

You were organizing your closet in the room you shared with Ace, he was terrible with organization and would just throw his clothes in there, so you used to take a day or two to tidy everything up. Everything was peaceful until Ace opened the bedroom door abruptly, looking around until he fixed his gaze on you.

"You! Take! Off! Your! Shirt! Now!" He said, closing the door with a thud as he quickly walked towards you.

"What?!" You were confused and embarrassed, what was he wanting now?

"Let's go! Take off the shirt!" He huffed and growled like an angry dog as he tried to forcefully remove your shirt, completely lacking the patience to wait for you to do it yourself.

“Ace! What happened to you?!” You asked shyly as you tried to shield yourself from his attacks and keep your shirt on.

“I want to cuddle, it’s nicer to lay on your chest when you’re shirtless, your skin is warm” he said, looking at you with huge puppy eyes and a big beak.

You just sighed, damn cute boyfriend who made you give in to his every request.

“Right, right, you could have said that before trying to rip my shirt off without any explanation” you smile at your lover’s cuteness. Sometimes Ace really seemed like a puppy desperate for all your attention, always happy when you gave him love.

Ace just laughed, ignoring it and you knew he would do it again. You swore that if you stared at him a little longer, you'd be able to see his imaginary tail wagging. You took a deep breath as you took off your shirt, your scars were now completely healed and you could now do all the normal things, take sun, bathe with standard products instead of just neutral things, stop wearing the compression tops that were a type of bandage, besides of course, touch was now fully allowed as your skin is no longer healing or sensitive. You finally had the chest you always wanted, with all the sensations of a chest without breasts.

And even so, finally having the surgery of your dreams, having a chest that finally didn't give you dysphoria due to your breasts, a masculine chest, you were finally able to feel more secure and comfortable and call yourself a man, and even with all that, you couldn't be shirtless. Marco said it might take some time for you to get used to it, after all it was a big physical change and it might be strange waking up with a new body, but that wasn't the problem. You felt a kind of… shame, shyness, you couldn’t explain it.

In a way, it was strange that you were allowed to walk around shirtless without any strange looks. All your life, you've been forced to wear a shirt because you're a “woman” and women can't go around shirtless because they have boobs and blah blah. But now you not only identify as a man, but you also don't have those feminine boobs, now you have a chest like Ace, Marco and the other boys on the ship, no one would look at you strange because you're shirtless.

But it's easier said than done, and even though you know Moby Dick was a safe place, you're still too shy to come out of your shell. And of course your super boyfriend was doing his best to make you feel more comfortable in your own skin, so some days he would lock you in your room and leave you shirtless. Most days, he would just end up sleeping and drooling on your bare chest. But even if it was just that, it was already making you feel more normal about yourself.

Once you were finally shirtless, you reflexively moved to cover yourself, but then decided to take a deep breath and fight it. You were a man and you didn't need to be ashamed of your body, not then, not now. So, you just calmed down and turned to Ace, who was staring at you with glassy, shining eyes like he saw treasure and… he was drooling?!

“Ace?” You asked, trying to snap the man out of his trance.

“Wow… I know I've seen you like this before, but every time I see you it's just… wow…” he said, swallowing deeply as his cheeks flushed. “So, pretty boy, do you have a boyfriend?” Ace said, waggling his eyebrows with a smirk that made you roll your eyes.

“I do and he’s a pervert” you said, huffing in fake anger as you threw your shirt in his face.

"Hey! I'm not a pervert!" He chuckled, getting rid of the fabric you threw at him. “It's not my fault if you hide all your hotness to yourself! You should look like me, completely shirtless, so I can enjoy your seductive body whenever I want!” He said, crossing his arms completely firm with his argument.

“Of course, and then, just like I put up with all those women and men hitting on you just because you're shirtless, you'd also have to put up with everyone hitting on me, what do you think?” You said, smirking as you sat on the edge of the bed. Ace wasn't possessive by any means, but he was very insecure and that made him very jealous. He was afraid you'd find someone better and abandon him.

“You know what, you don’t look so bad in a shirt” he said, already regretting the idea of showing you off like that to so many people.

“That’s what I thought” You laughed at him, seeing how annoyed he had been at the idea.

Soon, Ace perked up again and ran towards you. So, you quickly adjusted yourself on the bed so you were half lying, half standing, and spread your legs so he could lay on top of you more comfortably.

“Now like this, living in paradise” he sighed when he finally laid his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist without making you uncomfortable, but still managing to hold you. “So warm and soft.”

“You look like a puppy sometimes…” you laughed as you started stroking his black hair, giving him the cuddle he loved so much.

“Just for you…” Ace smiled, rubbing his face against your skin, as if he somehow wanted to absorb all of your scent and body heat.

You stayed like that for a while, just you stroking Ace's black hair and him lying peacefully on your chest. Then, he positioned himself so that he was lying further to the side, having a view of half of your chest. His hand released you and began to caress your scars, they were almost invisible due to Marco's power, but they were still there in a slightly different tone than your skin.

“You know… I kind of like them” he said and you were confused, did he like your scars?

"Why?" You asked.

“I don't know exactly... It's just... It reminds me how strong you are, how determined... You fought a battle that I don't think I'd ever be able to handle” he sighed, gently touching the marks. “You are just incredible, an incredible man.”

“It’s just… scars” you said, a little shy that he was being so genuine about it, he truly loved every part of you. Even the ones where you were insecure.

“No… They’re proof of how awesome you are” he said, looking at you with a mischievous smile. “They just prove how incredible you are, you are an incredible man” he smiled and kissed your scar. “I'm sure you're more of a man than all the men in Moby Dick!” His boyfriend said with conviction.

“Even more than pops?” You laughed knowing Ace would defend his father to the death.

"Hmm... Well... You're manly enough" Ace said, embarrassed for not being able to admit that he was your father's number one fan. As much as he loved you, he couldn't stop being a fanboy. “But you are more of a man than me! That’s enough, right?”

"What?" You laughed, thinking he was a total idiot. “Okay, I’ll be the man in the relationship and you my princess, okay?”

“But of course, did you have any doubts that I was the princess?” He asked, pretending to be offended and all you could do was laugh.

You sighed, relaxing on the bed. Maybe it wasn't today that you would go out shirtless and show the world that you were proud of who you were... but as long as you had the support of your family and especially your boyfriend, you knew you were capable of facing any battle. You were a man and everyone, including you, knew it, and that was more than enough for you.

#one piece x reader #one piece imagine #anime imagines #one piece x male reader #one piece x masc reader #one piece x transmasc reader #one piece x trans male reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #x reader #x male reader #x masc reader #x transmasc reader #x trans male reader #friendly boys imagine blog #boys blog only #male reader #trans male reader

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lakesbian · 1 year ago

Text

okay so 2.8. overall thoughts on rachel's introduction.

rachel not wanting a fifth person to join the team is ostensibly about the money she would lose from it, but it's more importantly about the fact that, as a disabled girl deeply unwanted by society, she has absolutely no trust in people. she can tolerate brian, lisa, and alec for the sake of the security and stability, but she doesn't trust them beyond the bare minimum. a strange person being brought into her house is deeply scary. she's used to every single new person she meets being a threat, someone with motives she can't read expecting her to operate based on arbitrary rules she can't understand. and because she has been taught that the only way to keep herself safe is to hurt people before they can hurt her (everyone will always want to hurt her), her immediate reaction to taylor Being There is to sic her dogs on taylor with hopes of scaring her off & securing her environment again. rachel autism lindt <3

brian is the second person we see breaking out the not-so-repressed violence and anger in this scene. he clocks rachel in the face, he says

“I fucking hate it,” Brian growled at the girl, putting emphasis on the swear, “When you make me do that.”

and he does some yelling about God Fucking Dammit. i think the crux of brian is that he consciously fervently does not want to be like his abusive stepfather, but the only alternative he's been taught was by his father...who is, unbeknownst to brian, also abusive. he's been taught that masculinity = good + mandatory and strength = masculine. his vision for himself as a Good Man who Takes The Lead and Cares For People involves stifling his 'weak' emotions and running himself ragged. he's not even very good at repressing himself compared to the other undersiders, so he's prone to outbursts like this sometimes--where, regardless of whether or not the violence he's engaging in is rationally justifiable, it's immensely charged w/ undertones of reminding him of exactly who he wants to avoid being.

it is Fully Understandable why, as a 17yo w/ zero training in conflict deescalation, the only way he can think to solve the matter of rachel violently siccing her dogs on someone is socking her. but "i fucking hate it when you make me do that" is still eerily reminiscent of some things his abusive stepfather has likely said to him before. he doesn't Want to be like that, but he doesn't know how to let himself be anything other than that.

(this situation w/ rachel and taylor sucks for him, ftr. he was so genuinely elated that he'd Acted Normal Enough to snap up this cool addition to the team, a girl with a good power who actively thinks along the exact same rational lines as him. which is important, because he needs the undersiders to succeed so that he can care for aisha like he feels he needs to. and then rachel busts in ruins what he's viewing as this great success by attacking taylor to drive her off. brian laborns bad day. rachel lindts bad day. tayor heberts bad day. lisa wilbourns deeply stressful day. alec vasils depression slump day.)

AND we get to watch taylor be violent and angry as well. that one is very simple there's not much to say about it. she's full of violent repressed anger (it's why she imagines beating the shit out of emma & co when she's being bullied in the halls prior to meeting the undersiders again), she usually holds it back because she recognizes that it would just cause the system to fuck her over more in the long-run, and here she realizes that there's no consequence of fighting back and proceeds to whale on rachel.

(i think that the reason she's primarily violent with her own human body here instead of w/ the bugs is because her usage of the bugs is frequently a form of dissociation--and here, rather than having to dissociate her way thru a violent situation, she's finally allowed to confront it head on and fight back w/ hands and feet As Herself. sucks and traumatizing to be attacked by dogs, but cathartic to be able to fight back.)

meanwhile: lisa is presumably vividly imagining slamming her own head into a brick wall and alec (badly depressed, seen far worse) doesnt even care with all the shit he's got going on

#wormtime 2 #wormtime 2 arc 2 #parahumans #wormblr #this is NOT a coherent post but thats how liveblogs work!

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fredwardart · 3 months ago

Text

formula E drivers and their stethoscopes

@watercolor-hearts and I discussed what stethoscopes each driver would use after they created a list for Formula 1 drivers. then we had the ideas for formula e drivers (+ André and James) so I made a list. Thanks to V for creating the collages!

André Lotterer - Littmann CORE Digital Stethoscope 8572 - High Polish Rainbow, Littmann Cardiology IV Diagnostic Stethoscope: Black & Black - Red Stem.

He’d want a digital one to save it for later. And the rainbow chest piece is obvious (for the gay in him). Sleek black with a hint of dark red is perfect for our war criminal.

Jev - MDF procardial® titanium adult cardiology stethoscope - cheetah/blackout.

Like Cheetah the cat.

Mitch Evans - MDF acoustica® stethoscope - white/black.

When I think of jaguar I think of Mitch. The colours remind me of him.

Nick Cassidy - Littmann Cardiology IV Diagnostic Stethoscope: Hunter Green

I just looked at it and thought, oh yeah, he’d look good with that.

Maximilian Günther - Littmann Cardiology IV Diagnostic Stethoscope: High Polish Rainbow & Navy Blue - Black Stem, Littmann Classic III Monitoring Stethoscope: Ceil Blue (suggested by V).

Maserati prince. Rainbow chest piece gives gay vibes.

James Rossiter - MDF MD one® adult stethoscope - white/perla noire, Littmann Cardiology IV Diagnostic Stethoscope: Satin Alabaster Tube

The vibe. Simple but a little bit posh, sophisticated. He likes the white.

Sam Bird - MDF MD one® epoch® titanium adult stethoscope - orange

The orange suits him.

Stoffel Vandoorne - MDF procardial® titanium cardiology stethoscope - green/blackout

It's illegal how good he looks in green.

Robin Frijns - MDF MD one® epoch® titanium adult stethoscope - graffiti/blackout, Littmann Classic III Monitoring Stethoscope: Smoke & Lime Green - Blue Stem

Given the pokemon obsession I feel like robin would like this one. can also imagine the green to rep Envision.

Edo Mortara - MDF procardial® titanium cardiology stethoscope - pink glitter/rose gold

Girl dad. I think he would love the pink and would enjoy using it.

Sacha Fenestraz - MDF MD one® epoch® titanium adult stethoscope - sunflower

A sunny personality that would look great with flowers.

Nyck De Vries - MDF MD one® epoch® titanium adult stethoscope - tie dye

Sunny personality, a bit of fun away from his on track crimes. He’d look cute with it.

Oliver Rowland - MDF procardial® titanium cardiology stethoscope - white glitter/rose gold

Another girl dad. Secure enough in his masculinity to own the glitter. I was imagining red glitter, but this is close enough.

António Félix da Costa - Littmann Cardiology IV Diagnostic Stethoscope: Black & Black - Red Stem

I think he’d like the black with a surprise bit of red. Porsche vibes.

Nico Müller - Littmann Classic III Monitoring Stethoscope: Turquoise

He looks good with this blue.

Jake Hughes -MDF sprague-x stethoscope - burgundy

Aston Villa FC vibes.

Sérgio Sette Câmara - Littmann Classic III Monitoring Stethoscope: Grey

Reminds me of the ERT. Subtle . Sort of quiet but still there.

Jehan Daruvala - Littmann Cardiology IV Diagnostic Stethoscope: Plum

Immediate thought was blue but I think he’d look good with plum.

Jake Dennis - MDF procardial® titanium cardiology stethoscope - paws

Jake loves his dog so He’d 100% get a paw print.

Sébastien Buemi - MDF MD one® epoch® titanium adult stethoscope - vulcan - carbon fiber/blackout

“Its dark, like my soul.”

Pascal Wehrlein - Littmann Master Cardiology Stethoscope: All Black

Dark and mysterious. Gives me his vibe.

Dan Ticktum - MDF procardial® titanium cardiology stethoscope - poseidon - carbon fiber/blackout

He'd go for this purely because he thinks it looks cool.

Norman Nato - Littmann Master Cardiology Stethoscope: Burgundy

He just looks like he'd suit it.

Lucas Di Grassi - Littmann Lightweight II SE Nurses Stethoscope: Black

I didn’t put much thought into this one lmao. Could imagine him using it.

these are all my personal opinion so there is literally nothing proving this, was just a bit of fun. If you have any other ideas though let me know. Hope you enjoyed! :)

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milos-whatevers · 5 months ago

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something jello said made me. a little uncomfortable.

rant below the break

this... kinda bothered me, coming from a transmasc person who headcanons giovanni as transmasc.

first off, i get how he would be angry at the "ohh giovanni does traditionally feminine things, that must mean he was born a girl" because i HATE that reasoning.

BUT!

i cannot stress enough how FEW people think this about trans headcanons.

the majority of gender headcanons (like mine) are literally just "im [gender] and i like/relate to [character] so i want [aforementioned character] to be [aforementioned gender], like me!! we are gonna match and that is so cool!" aka the reason that i headcanon him to be transmasc...

also, ive seen a lot of backlash from different fandoms with situations like this. yknow, when someone headcanons a male character that is comfortable in their femininity as trans. the reason that i most often see is "but he wore a skirt! a trans man wouldnt wear a skirt!" or something like that. (also not saying jello is like this,,, but his wording kind of implies that he thinks similar to this)

i get it. a lot of trans men are uncomfortable wearing skirts because it makes them feel less like a man. but many trans men WILL wear skirts, including me!

what im trying to get at is... im a trans man who is completely comfortable and secure in my identity. i wear skirts (like giovanni), i bake (like giovanni), and i craft (like giovanni)!

i am comfortable being feminine, though i know my gender is masculine. just like a certain pink haired soupervillian. so why cant he be trans too?

rant over you can all go home

ps: im just talking from my experiences, and im not trying to force any headcanons,, im just sad that my favorite headcanon for my favorite guy has been shot down :(

#epithet erased

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tired-biscuit · 3 months ago

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this might be a super personal question, feel free not to answer if it is too much but how do you talk to mr. bisky about sex stuff? i tend to get super shy and ashamed about it and i need to talk to my partner about what makes me unsatisfied ;;

it’s okie! we just talk, that’s literally it. like, idk our main priority in our relationship is that our communication is as great and smooth as it can be because i’ve had major issues with my ex concerning just that and i didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes.

that of course doesn’t mean that it always works out the way we hoped it would, and we sometimes miscommunicate by accident (we’re just people at the end of the day and we aren’t by any means perfect) but we do take a breather when that happens and try a different angle or approach after we’ve cooled down because what we also are is (mostly) reasonable adults who love each other and want to see issues resolved.

but talking about sex stuff specifically or introducing something new in bed: i just tell him what i like, how i like it, how i want it if he’s up for it too, you know? respectfully and gently — there’s nothing to be ashamed about it, he’s seen every part of me anyway. and he does the same. we’re both aware that nobody understands our bodies better than we do ourselves; i can’t expect him to touch me or do something to me perfectly when he can’t tell exactly what i’m feeling. so i guide him or he guides me to the right spot, rhythm, pace, whatever, and that way we avoid the hassle of pretending to orgasm or be into something that you’re really not and whatever else there is to it.

idk, we’re just super comfortable with each other and open and honest. granted, we didn’t talk about me giving him a footjob before it happened for example, but while it was happening i was still asking him “like this?” because i wanted to know if it actually felt good for him and he was like “yeah 🙂‍↕️💞✨💞✨💞” and he was guiding me to a faster pace with his hands and so on, and it ended up being a really cool and pleasant experience for the both of us because we communicated it in a way to make it pleasant, lol!!

it does completely depend on the type of partner you have, though. i’m fortunate enough that i’ve got someone who’s secure in his masculinity and doesn’t get offended if i teach him or suggest how i want things done. so yeah, baby steps i suppose!! BUT YOU CAN DO THIS, I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!!!!!

#biscuit mail #cw feet

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ravenbloodshot · 1 year ago

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How TxT members view each other (PT.2)

Soobin (POV)

Yeonjun

Positive traits: (Soobin has a lot of respect for him)charismatic, good style, looks good in anything, charming, passionate, high self esteem, leader, masculine, regal, ladies man, open minded, open to love, gets over break ups easily, doesn't stay in a sad/depressive state for long

Negative traits: bad FOMO (fear of missing out), catty and petty, aggressive, gets really loud when upset, impulsive, selfish, bad at keeping promises, bad with time, gets jealous of others (like envious of the lives shown on Instagram)

Beomgyu

Positive traits: careful, calculative, clever, shouldn't be underestimated, beautiful eyes, generous, giving with money, wealthy, mystical and mysterious, joyful, takes care of himself, leader, honorable, protective and possessive of what's his

Negative traits: talks too much, loud, annoying at times, complains too much, problems going to sleep, too affectionate, runs from his problems, avoids confrontation, sensitive

Taehyun

Positive traits: gives the same energy given to him, open minded, not afraid to call out bs, confrontational, realistic, trustworthy, not the type to betray others, good at keeping secrets, cctv eyes, watches everything(very perceptive)

Negative traits: doesn't know how to deal with his fame, boring, doesn't put enough effort into his career, doesn't have many friends, beautiful but shallow, lazy, cares what others think, procrastinator, bad at dealing with his hurt feelings

Huening Kai

Positive traits: Masculine, protective of what's his, independent, aggressive, go getter, sarcastic, witty, prankster, stable, goal oriented, cool to hang with, friendly and charismatic (Soobin feels like Huening Kai is the same as him, sees himself in HK)

Negative traits: stubborn, mean, ghosts others, cold, aggressive, too passionate, gets into unrequited love, scared of getting too close to people, fear of being betrayed

Beomgyu (POV)

Yeonjun

Positive traits: open minded, a chameleon that can fit into all social circles, sociable, sexy, has sex appeal, very popular, optimistic, perseveres through obstacles, eccentric style, has unconventional relationships, liberal

Negative traits: people pleaser, loses himself being around others, too mutable, cares what others think, pouty, vain, too westernized, too passionate and energetic, impulsive, adrenaline seeker, fake it till you make it, pretentious, materialistic

Soobin

Positive traits: stubborn, his word is law (puts his foot down), not a push over, warm, sympathetic, fatherly, stable and secure, reliable, smart, risk taker, calculative, nice body, noncommittal, independent

Negative traits: cruel streak, aggressive, doesn't like when others worry about him, suffers in silence, takes on too much work, pushes others away, too competitive, rough (may not realize his strength), impatient, bad at communication (never consistently texts/calls Beomgyu)

Taehyun

Positive traits: independent, watchful, sees everything, perceptive, enjoys nature, open minded, cultured, realistic, fun to talk and hang with, (these two are close), doesn't stay stuck on the past, takes care of himself, smells good, clean

Negative traits: aggressive, prideful, thinks he's better than others, stalker, too watchful, knows a lot of people's secrets, (beomgyu is suspicious of him since he sees so much), too reclusive, dealing with a heartbreak, not affectionate with his speech, doesn't express his love well

Huening Kai

Positive traits: consistent, goal oriented, patient, good with time, passionate, doesn't put up with bs, solid boundaries

Negative traits: obsessed with fame, attention seeker, ungrateful, pessimistic, jealous of others life, boring, too focused on work

Huening Kai (POV)

Yeonjun

Positive traits: handsome, charismatic, sly, foxy, alluring, affectionate, sweet talker, attractive, high self esteem, confident, flirtatious

Negative traits: petty, aggressive, snippy when upset, prideful, easy to anger if you realize his sensitivities, childish, not focused enough on his career, runs from his problems, holds grudges

Soobin

Positive traits: independent, simple and uncomplicated, doesn't need much to be okay, adventurous, is his own person, good with time management, perceptive but not too perceptive, sympathetic

Negative traits: acts as the mediator a lot when members fight, aggressive, asserts his authority, unaffectionate with his speech, (shaky connection, they like each other one day then the next they don't)

Beomgyu

Positive traits: communicative, funny, good at impersonations, knows how to bring the members together, takes care of himself, knows his worth, in a healing stage, doesn't hesitate when it comes to going after love, match maker (could set up members on dates)

Negative traits: loud, annoying at times, too energetic, childish, puts too much pressure on himself, overworks himself, directed by his emotions over his logic, hard headed, holds grudges, cutthroat, doesn't give second chances

Taehyun

Positive traits: confrontational, masculine, in control of himself, intense, beautiful eyes, not gullible, doesn't fear much, balanced, leaves behind things/people not good for him, stops toxic patterns, strong boundaries

Negative traits: pessimistic, cynical and dark, brooding, dealing with a break up, not open to love at the moment, too aggressive, reclusive, suffers in silence

#kpop readings #kpop #kpop tarot #txt soobin #txt beomgyu #txt taehyun #txt yeonjun #txt #txt tarot

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blackswaneuroparedux · 2 years ago

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Butch: What happened to the old bank? It was beautiful. Guard: People kept robbing it. Butch: Small price to pay for beauty.

- William Goldman, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid: Screenplay (1970)

In a brilliant William Goldman script peppered with memorable lines, the first exchange sets the tone of this classic Western movie. Butch looks around a bank at closing time, chatting with the security guard as he perhaps sizes up his next job.

“What happened to the old bank? It was beautiful.” “People kept robbing it.” “That’s a small price to pay for beauty.”

Right away, Goldman establishes Butch as a charismatic mouthpiece for the quip-ready screenwriter, contrasting nicely with the Sundance Kid, Robert Redford’s taciturn sharpshooter. But he’s also created two heroes who break the western mold, neither justice-seeking white-hats nor grizzled, sneering black-hats, and not as traditionally masculine as either party. Butch is a man who appreciates beauty and art, but doesn’t have the stomach for violence; it’s not until late in the film that we (and the Kid) discover that he’s never shot a man before and he looks sickened to have to do it. He’s a pleasure-seeker above all else: robbing banks and trains are his way to make an easy living and enjoy whatever sinful freedoms his vocation affords him.

Audiences in 1969 were all too happy to embrace the light, quippy irreverence of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid after a turbulent summer, and Goldman, director George Roy Hill, and the two impossibly handsome stars made them feel cool for doing it. True Grit had performed well earlier in the year as a throwback to the genre’s past, giving John Wayne a proper victory lap, but Butch Cassidy was thoroughly modern, a star-making vehicle for Newman and Redford that reflected a need for the genre to turn the page and that feels as much of its time as it does authentic to Wyoming in the late 1890s. With Katherine Ross at the centre of a love triangle between friends, the film attempted to bring a French Jules and Jim vibe to the American mainstream, taking a lesson from the French new wave on how to revive old Hollywood craft.

It still works spectacularly well. There’s an alchemy up and down the production. Redford possesses easy charm, which parries so well with Newman’s smarts that the two would run it back again with Hill a few years later in The Sting.

The pop doodling of Burt Bacharach’s musical score is about as far from a traditional western score as possible, but it somehow meshes with the sepia sheen of Conrad Hall’s photography, which burnishes the legend of these two men while their story is still being told. And while Goldman’s screenplay dances on the edge of glib, it’s lively and sophisticated, with a strong theme about the capitalist forces that really tamed the Wild West.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is such a rollicking good time that it takes a while to notice it’s about the end of the line for its heroes, whose celebrity is already widespread when the film opens and ultimately hastens their demise. “Your times is over and you’re gonna die bloody,” warns a sheriff, prophetically, in an early scene, and the film is mostly about Butch and Sundance getting chased out of America by hired guns and dying at the hands of the Bolivian army.

They’re mostly guilty of stealing from the wrong guy: EH Harriman, the railroad tycoon, spends more trying to catch them than they rob from his safes, but it’s an opportunity for a powerful man to send a message about who’s really in charge. Guys like Butch and Sundance can handle local lawmen and half-hearted posses, but they can’t fight progress. The EH Harrimans along with the the Rockefellers, JP Morgans, and the Carnegies and of the world - the original robber barons - would make certain of that.

#goldman #william goldman #quote #butch cassidy and the sundance kid #film #movie #cinema #hollywood #paul newman #robert redford #cowboys #western #america #wild west #society #culture #arts #capitalism

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talia-rumlow · 8 months ago

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Home Sweet Home (AU Brock Rumlow/Original Female Character) 18+ Chapter One

WORDCOUNT: 6267

TRIGGERS: Age Gap, 911 Call, Police

CHAPTER ONE - SOMETHING JUST LIKE THIS!

youtube

The blistering Texas sun beamed down on the pavement, smothering downtown Mansfield in an oppressive heat wave. The cloudless sky stretched on in an expanse of clear blue, offering no respite from the sweltering 93°F temperature. The only escapes from the relentless rays were the shady trees in the parks or the cool relief of air conditioning indoors.

As Calleigh locks the office door, she feels the heat radiating in from outside. Having worked in her dad's delivery business for a little over three months now, she easily navigates the building, double-checking that everything is secured for the weekend. Approaching the exit, the intense heat worsens. Calleigh lifts her shirt, revealing a cute pink butterfly piercing on her belly button - a small act of rebellion she got after her first visit with her dad following her mom's move to New York with a new boyfriend. Pushing aside thoughts of New York and the boyfriend she detests, Calleigh fans her exposed stomach with her shirt in a futile attempt to withstand the heat on her way out, silently thanking the universe for Fridays and weekends.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Brock backs his day-old black Chevrolet Silverado 1500 as close to the garage door as possible. Searching for the key to turn off the engine, he suddenly remembers this truck has a keyless start/stop system—all he has to do is push a button. Brock chuckles a bit of his lack of knowledge about his new car, before he makes a mental note to get used to the new feature.

Though the car met all his needs, Brock struggled to adjust to its high-tech features. While he wanted to embrace the smart house, smart phone, smart car lifestyle, at heart he was old-fashioned. To Brock, a car should just be a car, and a phone just a phone. These days, cars were becoming more like living spaces, packed with extra gadgets and gizmos; and those new phones were multipurpose devices that served not only as phones, but also as calendars, alarm clocks, cameras, journals, and computers. He almost felt that he was too old to keep up, with his 46 years, Brock started to feel that his youth had passed him by long ago.

Placing his toned muscular forearm on the center console; Brock looks over the dashboard. The car's built-in entertainment system was bigger than his nephew's tablet. The right side of the screen informed him that the temperature was a scorching 94°F and climbing; moving over to the left side, where he could decide on what radio station to listen to, operate the car's cameras, use the built-in GPS system, connect his phone via Bluetooth and a bunch of other stuff he'd probably never use.

A quick glance at the clock told him that he had to get to work. He had promised Jack ages ago that he would fix the Oil leak, change the filter, the camshaft belt and do an overall service on the car. But the parts he needed weren't always easy to come by. So here he was, grabbing his mechanic's creeper off his truck, to finally do the job; four months behind schedule.

Brock swings open the garage door, revealing the stunning 1967 Chevy Impala. The sleek black exterior gleams in the sunlight, resembling a rare diamond. Despite its age and need for repairs, the Impala exudes charm, blending masculinity and nostalgic charm. Like Brock, Jack shares a fondness for vintage cars, true American muscle cars such as this. The old cassette player still hums within, and Jack hasn't altered a single detail on the car. There's a palpable sense of trust between them as Brock cherishes the responsibility and level of trust Jack has placed in his hands.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Calleigh frowned at her license photo. At only 20 years old, she had not yet grown comfortable with her appearance. She felt her nasal bone was too thick, making her eyes seem too far apart. Makeup helped camouflage this to some extent, but no amount of makeup could alter her height. At 5'10", she was taller than average, which made finding flattering clothes a challenge. She often wished she had her mother's petite 5'3" frame, having clearly inherited her stature from the Rollins side of the family. While she could live with her blonde hair, she wished it had more volume. Her lips were too pale and thin for her liking, though makeup could fix that as well. Unlike her mother's ocean blue eyes, Calleigh had green eyes, another Rollins family trait. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Calleigh took stock of herself - blonde hair, blonder in summer; green eyes; lightly pinked lips with distinctive dips cupping her nose; a high forehead. She was a harmonious blend of both parents.

Calleigh connects her phone to the car's entertainment system, the little screen in the middle of the dashboard makes it easy to navigate through spotify to find her song, Coldplay and The Chainsmokers with Something Just Like This. It’s a song that seems fitting for her life right now.

Ever since she moved back to Texas, and Mansfield, she felt like her whole life was already planned for her.

She would get a seat at the board of directors alongside her dad and her grandfather in the delivery business on her 21st birthday in December. It would give her a comfortable and financially steady life, but very few choices.

With an exasperated sigh, Calleigh places her purse in the passenger seat. The black leather seat had small stitched details, a lighter shade of burnt orange in color, along the sides, giving it a more luxurious look.

When her dad had offered to buy her a new car, Calleigh had opted for the Mini Cooper, a car she felt was more suitable for her needs. But Jack had his mind made up on a 2020 Chevrolet Impala, black of course, to have it blend in with the other cars in the garage. After a bit of discussing back and forth, Calleigh had just given up. A car was a car, and she needed one. Although she would have given almost anything to have a convertible right now.

She was thankful for the car, it was nice and spacious with its four doors and five seats, it had room enough for both Calleigh and her friends.

The trunk suited all of her needs with enough room for both grocery shopping and a shopping spree at the local mall. The black leather seats with the burnt orange stitching offered comfort with their user friendly adjustment mechanism. The center console, designed with faux wood, held a spacious storage compartment and a double cup holder, one of which now held the almost empty Venti iced caramel latte that Calleigh got from Starbucks this morning.

The comfortable, highly equipped steering wheel made it easy to answer the phone, change songs, adjust the volume, as well as the heat in the winter. The 2020 Chevy Impala did indeed deliver a luxurious and comfortable driving experience.

She grew up in a well off family, both of her parents came from money. Both the Rollins Delivery Service and the Lewis Jewelry line had been around for generations, earning themselves a good reputation and money to live a more than comfortable life. Despite all of this, Calleigh had never seen herself as spoiled. She knew nothing came for free, that she had to work hard in school, and she had to earn her allowance. Her parents, even if they were never together, had made sure of that.

The drive from downtown Mansfield to South Pointe was roughly 10 to 15 minutes long, depending on traffic. But in this heat, Calleigh feels that it took two hours. Her shirt is sticking to her back, and her throat screams for water to the point where she's about to chug the last of the latte that had been sitting in her car all day. All she wanted was to change into a bikini and spend the rest of the weekend relaxing by the pool in the backyard.

Despite having to spend the weekend alone; without her two best friends. Jessica was preparing for her undergraduate degree, and Molly had been assigned to take a HR Masterclass in Seattle. Her dad was away as well, having a tiny legal crisis in Chicago, he had decided to fly over there himself, to oversee the negotiations. Calleigh looked forward to a weekend by the pool.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

As Calleigh approaches the house, she notices the black Pickup truck that's backed all the way into the now open garage door. Not a truck she recognizes, and they rarely had any other unannounced visitors other than her grandparents or Brock from time to time. But Brock was on a work spree these days. Calleigh hadn’t even seen him since she moved back home; which was strange, because in summertime he practically lived in the garage. Fixing her dad’s various vehicles, as well as his own; whilst sharing some beers with her dad. It was almost so that she thought that they had fallen out. But the legal crisis in Chicago had occupied her dad for quite some time, so that might be it. The two men simply didn't have time for social get-togethers these days. Even Friday Night BBQ was put on hold for the time being.

The Friday Night BBQ was one of Calleigh's most cherished traditions. Her dad and Brock manned the grill while she and her friends frolicked in the pool or yard. As they aged, they took on more duties. Molly routinely brought her signature focaccia and salad— a recipe Calleigh unsuccessfully tried recreating time and time again. Jess handled dessert; her Texas-style peach cobbler was unrivaled, the moist and buttery delight created a sweet symphony on her pallads, and topped with a scoop of peach ice cream, it became unresistable no matter how much anyone had for dinner. Occasionally Molly's mom and Jess's parents joined, packing the expansious backyard with joy, nostalgia, and hearty laughter.

With the memories of time well spent, playing like a movie in her head, Calleigh drives past the house at 2 mph as she examines the truck that's parked in front of the garage. A black Silverado, newer model. Having grown up with a father like Jack, with his fondness for cars, she's picked up a thing or ten. Of course it also helped that she spent numerous afternoons at the Rumlow garage in her early teens, when her dad worked late, or her mom spent time with that new boyfriend.

Calleigh's body goes cold when she remembers the 67 Impala in the garage. Jack's favorite car. He spent years finding the perfect one. If someone is trying to steal it, or parts from it; Jack would go ballistic. And given his military background, it'll not be pretty. For a second Calleigh feels like a six-year old, not knowing what to tell her parents when she broke a glass or spilled water on her bed.

Though South Pointe was a gated community, there were no guards on site. To enter, you needed either a code from a resident or a chip that automatically opened the gate. With the recent expansions and the constant flow of workers going in and out, it was easy for anyone to get in, whether they belonged there or not. And with a truck like the new Silverado, you could easily drive in, fill the spacious bed with whatever you were stealing; and then drive back out, without anyone raising a brow.

Calleigh takes a deep breath, weighing her options. Should she call the police or confront the person in the garage herself? Having spent four years in New York, she knows how to handle situations and always keeps pepper spray in her purse, even in Mansfield, where crime rates are lower. Despite the safer environment, she's aware that appearances can be deceiving, and anyone could pose a threat.

Turning her car at the end of the street, Calleigh retrieves her phone from her purse, its cute pink cover with butterflies and faux diamonds contrasting with the ominous atmosphere she envisions in the garage. Without overthinking, she dials 9-1-1.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a calm female voice responds after a few rings.

“I'm.…I think someone is breaking into my house,” Calleigh says, suddenly unsure if 9-1-1 was the right choice.

“Are you in the house, ma’am?” The voice persists. Calleigh hesitates, considering whether to hang up and face the intruder alone. “Ma’am, are you inside the house?” the voice repeats.

“N..no. I.. I'm outside.. In my car. I don't know what to do. I… I..” Calleigh is desperate, on the verge of crying. She can't remember the last time she didn't want to be home alone. But this is one of those times.

“What's your name ma'am?” The voice continues, still in that calm tone.

Calleigh takes a breath “Calleigh Lewis Rollins.” She replies, with a shaky breath. Trying to calm down her beating heart.

“Do you know if they're armed?” The woman on the phone continues. Calleigh feels that ice cold feeling in her stomach. Armed? She didn't think about that at all. What if they're armed, what does she do then?

“I don't know. I don't know!” She shakily replies. Her voice on the verge of breaking. Without realizing that she does, she reaches for her pepper spray. The little 3 inch pink container designed as a keychain was easy to carry around, easy to use and it had a neutral design, which made it perfect to carry around for self defense.

“Calleigh, calm down. You're going to be fine. I'll dispatch a unit to your location. What's your address?” The voice continues in a calm soothing manner, which helps to calm Calleigh down.

“2837 Chandler Court” Calleigh replies, happy that she remembered the address. She hasn't lived here too long, and in this particular situation it's things like that that usually slips.

“Do you have any firearms in the house?” Another question about guns. It's not that Calleigh wasn't used to them, it was just that in this situation, guns didn't feel like a safe topic. And this is Texas, everyone has firearms.

“Y..Yeah, we have some. Seven or ten maybe.” Calleigh replies as she does a mental runthrough of the house, trying to remember where Jack keeps all his guns. The gun cabinet in the living room, the hide away cabinet in his bedroom, and the safe in the….. garage. Calleigh takes another shaky breath as she imagines some bad ass crocks breaking into that safe.

“I've dispatched a unit to your location. They'll be there in about ten minutes. And Calleigh, please lock the doors, and stay in the car until the unit arrives.” The voice on the phone informs her, still calm and collected. Calleigh can't believe how they manage to be this calm with people in shock, pain, rage, people who're scared out of their minds. But now, today, she's extremely thankful for it.

Clenching the container with pepper spray in her hand, Calleigh almost whispers into the phone “Yes. Thank you.”

“Calleigh, please stay in the car.” The lady on the phone says again. But Calleigh can hardly hear it. She flips the top of the container in her hand, as she hangs up the phone, and slowly exits the car.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

With half an eye on the wrench around the unwilling screw, and half an eye on the bucket for the oil, Brock tries to get the screw to give. His left foot firmly planted on the concrete garage floor to steady himself, as he struggles to get the screw loose. His biceps flexing, the veins on his arm popping. His teeth clenched in concentration, and the sweat dripped from his forehead.

Brock applies just a bit more muscle power, determined to get the screw to give. The sweat on his hands makes him lose his grip around the wrench. His hand flies up, hitting the car, as the wrench falls to the floor, creating an echo around the oversized garage. “Aaaa, fuck,” he almost screams, as he shakes his hand to try to ease the pain.

The sound of metal hitting concrete, the echo that follows and the screaming make Calleigh jump. Her heart is beating out of her chest, and that ice cold feeling in her stomach comes back. Yes, the 9-1-1 dispatcher told her to lock the doors and stay in the car. But ten minutes? They should know how much damage that can be done within ten minutes. She had to leave the car. But with the screaming and the noise. Maybe she should've stayed put. Anyway, it's too late for that now.

Calleigh places her thumb on the top of the pepper spray container. “Stop what you're doing I have a weapon!” She yells, surprised by how firm her voice is, she lifts the container, ready to attack.

Brock jumps under the car from the voice yelling, something about a weapon. Startled, he tries to sit up, but since he's under the car, sitting up only serves for him to bang his head against the car. “Fuck! Shit! Don't shoot, I'm unarmed!” He yells back in a haste. Quickly moving the creeper, so he can stand up.

Getting up faster than he's ever done before, raising his arms to show whoever it is that he is indeed unarmed. “Don't shoot! I'm un-,” when he sees Calleigh he stops for a second “armed….” He breathes out in surprise at the woman standing before him. Beautiful. That's the only thing he can say about her; Silently in his mind of course.

Calleigh carefully drinks in the man in front of her. His well-worn jeans sit comfortably on his hips, a cloth tucked into the right side. His V-shaped lower abdomen is unlike anything she's seen before, leading up to a six-pack and impressive pecs that could be straight out of a commercial. The oil stains and sweat on his upper body add a sexy touch. Moving upward, she notices strong pecs lightly dusted with chest hair. As she lifts her face, broad-toned shoulders barely register in her mind compared to the veiny upper arms that make her knees feel weak. Before fully revealing the rest, she takes a breath and discovers a strong jawline, dark facial hair, followed by soft, playful, and kissable lips, a broad nose perfectly placed on his flawless face. As her gaze reaches further, she encounters two soft hazel brown eyes adorned with dark lashes and brows. Calleigh's heart skips a beat, and in surprise, she breathes out, "Brock?”

Brock had never seen such beauty and grace. Calleigh had blossomed into a stunning woman, with shoulder-length blonde locks with a few curls framing her face. Her soft pink lips were slightly parted in surprise, complementing her petite nose and accentuating the delicate curves of her upper lip. Her emerald eyes shone like gemstones, undoubtedly a Rollins family trait.

Brock swallows, his heart does a jump in his chest. “Calleigh?” His voice carried a bit of surprise. He remembered Calleigh as a rebellious 16-year old, getting belly-button piercings without permission. He did not expect this God sent beauty. And he's not sure how he should react. This is Jack's daughter. He shouldn't feel his heart jump like this because of her.

Jesus Christ, Calleigh thinks for herself. Did she just think about Brock's lips as kissable? Brock Rumlow? Her dad's best friend. Naha, no way. Take it back, take it back, take it back; she repeats the three words again and again in her head, like a mantra. It's all in vain, when Brock's lips slowly curl up into a half smile. His upper lip on the left side curls up, revealing his teeth. Calleigh feels drawn to it. It's like magnetism, an invisible force that's dragging her towards him. She swallows in a desperate attempt to keep her heart out of her throat. It's Brock, Calleigh! He's over 40 years old, and your dad's best friend; the voice in her head screams to her at this point.

"What errr..." Brock takes the cloth from his jeans and wipes his hands on it before continuing. "What are you doing here?" he questions, his eyes traveling over her. Her short-sleeved white shirt reveals the small dips by her collarbone, and Brock's fingers twitch as his mind imagines gliding his fingertips over them. He knows he shouldn't feel this way. Why does he feel this way? Further down the shirt lays tight over her breasts, Brock swallows from the sight of them. Jesus, get it together, Brock; he silently curses at himself.

“I live here.” Calleigh replies, before he can take in the rest of her. She rubs her hand on her neck. The garage offers shade and a living temperature, but she can still feel the heat from outside. And looking at Brock all sweaty and sexy isn't helping at all. “What are you doing here?” She continues, she knows that's a stupid question. He was on his creeper, under the car when she came in, and the oil stains are also a big giveaway.

“I'm fixing your Dad’s car,” Brock answers her question with a little smile, and a tap on the hood of the Impala. “How's that neighborhood watch thing going for ya?” He adds with a little chuckle.

“Huh?” Calleigh feels like she just fell out of the sky. And she imagines that it must look that way too.

Brock gestures with his head to the container in her right hand, and Calleigh looks down to see her thumb still firmly placed on the top of it. Quickly putting the cap back on, she puts her hand behind her back. “It's nothing. It's just…” she tries, but the damage is already done. The only thing she can hope for now, is that Brock won't tell Jack about it.

“For protection?” Brock asks, as he wipes his abs with the cloth. When Calleigh doesn't answer, he continues. “New York taught you a few things huh?” He delivers the question with an understanding head tilt.

Calleigh takes a breath “Yeah I guess you could say—“ she’s interrupted by sirens approaching.

Brock lets out a little laugh “You called the cops on me.” It's more of a statement than a question. Calleigh feels a rush of embarrassment, as Brock lets out another friendly laugh.

“Not so much on you.. I..” Calleigh starts, moving her legs nervously. “I.. I thought you were someone else,” she tries, but without any kind of words to complete that sentence.

“Well, guess I can only hope that they won't arrest me,” Brock continues to chuckle, as he swings the cloth over his left shoulder, and walks outside to face the police.

Calleigh stays behind for a second or two before she shakes her head and lets out an exasperating breath. This is too embarrassing. Did she really call the cops on Brock? Jesus, she's never going to hear the end of this. This'll be one of those stories that'll be mentioned in a speech at her wedding. She can just hear it in her head ‘And you can feel totally safe, Calleigh will protect her terf whatever the cost. I remember…’ Shaking her head again, she walks outside as well.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Not one, not two, but three units showed up. Thank you so much brain, for mentioning all the firearms in the house. Calleigh thinks to herself. Thankfully the misunderstanding was easy to clear up. Two of the officers knew Brock, which was understandable since Brock owned the only garage around that was certified to work on the police vehicles. And of course it helped that both the Lewis and the Rollins name was well known around these parts.

Just as the officers are leaving, Calleigh spots Mrs. Callahan across the street, coming out of her house with her walker. Mrs. Callahan was this tiny 4’9" little old lady, with long gray frizzy hair, she always wore white compression socks, a skirt with flower patterns on, a white shirt, a home knitted cardigan and brown slippers, she had lived across the street since forever. She was a really nice old lady, but she put her nose into absolutely everything.

“Miss Calleigh.” She yells across the street, with what little voice she has left. “Miss Calleigh, is everything alright?” She continues, as she walks across the street towards them.

“Yeah, Mrs. Callahan, everything is fine. Don’t worry.” Calleigh smiles at the old lady.

“I saw the police. Are you sure everything is alright? How's your father? Jack is such a sweetheart, don't you think?” Mrs. Callahan continues to talk. The thing with Mrs. Callahan was that after her husband passed away a few years ago, she had become very chatty. And if she started, there was almost no way of stopping her.

“Everything is perfectly fine Mrs. Callahan. It was just a misunderstanding” Brock shoots in, sending Calleigh an amused look when he says misunderstanding. “I can assure you that you can sleep safely.” He continues, giving the old lady a protective smile.

“O..Okay” Mrs. Callahan nods to Brock. Then she stops. “Would you be so kind as to walk an old lady back home, Brock?” She continues with her distinct old lady voice.

Brock sends Calleigh a small smile, before he offers his arm to Mrs. Callahan. When they start the short walk over the street, Calleigh can hear her say ‘Such a sweetheart, such a sweetheart’ over and over again. Calleigh can't help but smile. Both from the old lady calling Brock a sweetheart, and from the fact that Brock seriously makes her heart jump, and her stomach swoop. Both of which are feelings she's never had before.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Calleigh has just finished maneuvering her car into the garage when Brock returns. Still wearing nothing but his well worn work jeans, with oil stains and rips on them. And then that body. Calleigh swallows hard to not let out any type of sound that can give away how she reacts to this man.

“You want Apple pie?” Brock asks, holding up two Apple pies, one in each hand. “Because I have two of them,” he continues, looking from Calleigh to the pies, and then back to Calleigh again.

Mrs. Callahan might be nosy to the point where Calleigh almost felt uneasy about it. But the old lady did make the most delicious Apple pies. Sweet, zesty and sugary. With the most amazing Granny Smith apples, cooked until perfection, with that sweet taste of cinnamon, a pinch of nutmeg and sugar. Calleigh remembers them from the block parties when she was a little girl. Finishing up her dinner as fast as possible, to make sure she could grab a slice before they were all gone. Her mouth still goes watery when she thinks about it.

“She gave you two?” Calleigh laughs. Smiling wide. Partly for the thought of eating Mrs. Callahan's Apple pies again and partly from the thought that she might sit down with Brock and eat them. Why is that thought so prominent? It's not like Brock hasn't had dinner or food in general in this house before. She practically grew up with him around.

“Two isn't enough?” Brock questions, placing the two pies on the roof of Calleigh's car, before he starts to turn around. “Because I'm pretty sure I can get like five more,” he continues as he starts to leave the garage. Brock chides himself. What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he suddenly acting like a fuckin' teenager? Playing stupid flirting games, so that Calleigh will try to stop him, touch him. Jesus, Brock. He thinks for himself. Calleigh must think he's insane.

“No, no, no,” Calleigh hastily replies, grabbing Brock's wrist. “Two is –,” she involuntarily stops mid sentence from the sensation of Brock's skin against her palm. “Two is fine.. it's –” she continues, meeting his eyes as she lets go of his wrist. One of Brock's fingertips brushes over her palm, sending waves of shivers up her arm “perfect” she breathes out.

“Alrighty then,” Brock smiles, as he once again takes the pies. “Just heat them on 350, for 15 to 20 minutes, and we'll have ourselves a treat,” he continues as he opens the door that leads from the garage into the house.

Calleigh examines his broad and perfectly toned backside. His jeans fit perfectly over his behind. Calleigh swallows again. Stop it, she once again tells herself. “Maybe have a shower first?” She suggests, before she follows Brock. A shower? Really, Calleigh? She thinks to herself, the thought of naked Brock in the shower makes her want to slap herself. Cold shower it is. A really cold shower.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Calleigh locks the door to the downstairs bathroom, before leaning her forehead against the door. Oh,God. Is she stupid? It's frickin Brock for God's sake. What is she thinking? Turning around, she leans her back against the door, as she glances over the bathroom.

The bathroom had undergone a luxurious renovation. The once white walls were now covered in sleek black and gold marble tiles that gave the space a rich feel. The wood-look flooring stretched out, making the room seem spacious. Acoustic panels in complementary black and wood tones lined the ceiling. Gone was the indoor jacuzzi that Calleigh loved as a child, replaced by a double waterfall shower. Concrete shelves anchored the masculine vanity area. Perched atop were two oval basins crafted from natural river stone, marrying masculinity with luxury. A sauna for four to six sat in one corner, unused but admittedly stylish. Though unfamiliar, Calleigh had to concede the new bathroom was rather nice looking.

Stepping away from the door, Calleigh removes her work clothes, tossing them in the laundry basket by the door. Before she steps into the shower, she once again takes a look at herself in the mirror. She looks… What's the word? Young and inexperienced. Small breasts, though still firm and pointing the ‘right’ way, they're still small. Narrow hips. Damnit! Why does she care so much about this all of a sudden? Brock.. Like he would ever want someone like her. “Why do you care, Calleigh?” She says to the mirror, before she enters the shower.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

The guest bathroom upstairs offers every accommodation a guest might need, whether it was a short or a longer stay. The modern design, such as the subway tiles in the shower, the floating shelves for towels and toiletries, the bathtub, with it's spa-like bath pillow, and the shower curtain, resting on a black shower rod, that stretched from one wall to another, mixed with the intricate black and white pattern on the floor tiles it gave the room a contemporary yet nostalgic charm.

Brock leans forward in the shower, leaning his arms against the wall as he lets the water wash over his neck, dripping down over his eyes and nose. He takes a deep breath. He'd almost forgotten that feeling. Aside from the fact that he'd promised himself to never go down that path again, he had to admit that it did feel good. That warm feeling, that was pumped out in his entire body with every heartbeat. That childish need for physical contact. But no. He couldn't do this. Not with her. Not with Calleigh. He's 26 years older than her, old compared to her. Though he was in good physical shape, he was still older than her. A lot older. After he took his therapist's advice to work out more to clear his head, his workout routine had become his safe place. A place where he didn’t have to think about Iraq or Afghanistan or Taylor. Just thinking about her name makes him feel cold. Calleigh, he thinks for himself. Calleigh with the gemstone eyes and perfect lips. Calleigh with the soft skin he felt when his fingers brushed over her palm. Calleigh… Yeah, Calleigh’s better. Calleigh’s definitely better. Fuck, what is he doing?

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

Calleigh looks between the knee-length tights and the white cotton shorts, weighing her options. The tights that cover more of her body or the comfortable shorts that's more suitable for this weather. God, this is just stupid. And why would Brock care anyway? Why does she care? Since when did what she wore around Brock become an issue? Opting for the shorts, she rolls her eyes at herself and her teenage-like thinking. The shorts fit better with the top anyway, and for some reason it feels important to look good right now.

After meticulously applying her make-up, Calleigh takes a good long look in the mirror. Her white shirt, with the blue and white butterfly pattern on the front sits perfectly on her body, hugging what's supposed to be hugged. Well, more like what's there to actually be hugged. Pouting a bit to her reflection and shaking her head at herself, she turns around checking if everything is in its right place. The straps on her bra are visible due to the shirts open back. After a few unsuccessful attempts trying to fix that issue, Calleigh gives up. Visible straps are better than a bikini anyway. No poolside relaxing today, there's no way she'll be strolling around in a tiny bikini with Brock around.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

The red light that indicates that the oven has reached its wanted temperature turns off, and Calleigh places the two pies into the oven. Thankful that Brock wasn't done upstairs yet. Those feelings she gets when he's around. They're… Calleigh doesn't even have the words to describe them. Sure she's been in love before, or at least smittened. She even had boyfriends, not too many or to long lasting, but still. But the feeling never lasted. And it was never like this. That feeling of her stomach doing gymnastics inside of her. What is that? Looking at the pies warming in the oven. Calleigh tries to make some sense out of all these emotions.

“Wouldn't it be funnier to… I don't know, watch a movie or something?” The voice suddenly talking over Calleigh's head startles her to the point where she hastily stands up. Banging her head into Brock's chin. “Ouch” Brock breathes out as he lets his hand glide over his chin.

“Oh, God,” Calleigh replies. Her expression is a mix of embarrassment and guilt. “I'm so sorry. Are you okay?” She continues, and without realizing that she does she lifts her arm to touch him where they collided. His rugged facial hair tickles her fingers as she carefully let them glide over his chin.

“I gotta say that your self-defense technique is a little unorthodox,” Brock smiles. “But it works, it definitely works,” he continues. The feeling he gets from Calleigh's touch is unlike anything he's ever felt before. A mix of excitement, guilt and that warm feeling spreading throughout his body.

Calleigh can't help but laugh. Brock always used to be funny, kinda like the cool uncle she never had since both her parents were an only child. She can remember millions of times when she was younger. Brock taking her to amusement parks, Brock dressing up as various animals or superheroes for her birthday parties, Brock letting her ride shotgun with him, even though Jack had told him not to. But for some reason the funny he shows her now, that funny feels different.

Suddenly realizing she's still touching him, Calleigh reatracts her hand, covering it with the other hand as she gives Brock an apologetic smile. What's gotten into her? Why does she feel like this around him all of a sudden?

“Is your head alright?” Brock asks, almost instantly regretting his poor choice of words. “From the… err.. bump,” he adds, when he sees the confusion on Calleigh's face. He lifts his hand, and carefully lets it glide over her head.

“Yeah”, Calleigh breathes out as she once again meets Brock's eyes. “I'm…” she continues, as Brock's hand glides down to her neck before stopping on her shoulder. “Good..” Whispering the last word so low that she's not sure Brock even hears it. It's definitely a connection between them. Or is it? Is she fooling herself? And if that's the case, then why?

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

The evening goes on. With Apple pies, ice cream, a movie on TV and a phone call from a worried Jack.

Mrs. Callahan had called him, and told him about the police being at the house. No surprise there. After about 14 failed attempts to call Calleigh, Jack had resolved to call Brock. Overprotective as he was, he was worried out of his mind. Before Brock explained how everything really went down, Jack was like two seconds away from jumping on the first flight back home. But after some discussion back and forth Brock had told him that he'd stay with Calleigh for the duration of Jack's stay in Chicago. For Calleigh, Jack's overprotectiveness in this situation was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing since this meant that she could spend some more time with Brock, and a curse for that exact same reason.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

After getting ready for bed, and before she turns off the lights, Calleigh sends a message in the group chat she shares with Molly and Jess.

‘Call me ASAP. I need to talk.’

No matter if there's a connection there or not, Calleigh needs to talk to someone about this. It's way too heavy to carry by herself. And what better people to talk to, than her two best friends.

Next Chapter ------->

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