#but ONLY if they actually end up together

[cupidbedsy]

୨୧ his name ; lh43

➪ summary: 3 times luke sees his girlfriend with his name on her back

➪ warnings: luke being utterly obsessed with his name on his girl, this is not at all proofread !

➪ word count: 3.2k

➪ file type: fluff fic

➪ cupid's notes: i've had this in progress since october so it might be a little shitty it might not be. i absolutely am in love this idea and i am so happy that old me came up with this! i did cut two scenes out but don't worry... they'll be making their appearance sooner or later. also this is for my lovely elise who i would assume did actually end up falling asleep so this is her good mornign present @digitalhughes-jpg

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

1. matchmaking - the day y/n and luke met

She had been dragged out of her dorm by her roommate, she had no desire to go be surrounded by a bunch of people. Nonetheless, she couldn’t really pass up the opportunity to go watch college hockey, it was too intriguing.

So there she was, standing in Yost Arena, in one of her friend’s old Michigan shirts from when Bella’s brother went there. They stood excitedly amongst the rest of their friends and other students who had found their place around them, watching as the team celebrated the goal they had just scored. 

It was only halfway through the second period that her mind put together that the guy’s name she was wearing across her back was the same as one of the player’s names on the team. She furrowed her eyebrows as she scrolled through her phone, looking over the roster. 

She was quick to put Luke’s name into Instagram, navigating her way to Quinn’s eventually, finally realizing that he went there at the same time Bella’s brother had. It was probably just a weird coincidence, it didn’t mean anything. But she wouldn’t put it past Bella to be planning something. It was just who she was. 

���+*:୨୧:*﹤

After the game, their group of friends lingered in the hallway waiting for the hockey players to emerge from the locker room. It was never brought to her attention that so many of her friends had known some of the guys on the team, mostly because she was never all that curious to ask. 

She and Bella strayed from the group, huddling against the wall and talking about something random when a group of 5 or more players came out, laughing about something one of them had said. When her gaze found a familiar face, she cocked her head to the side trying to figure out where she had seemed him before. It didn’t take long for it took click, causing her to go still in shock, so her Instagram stalking ‘skills’ did prove to be useful.

She was snapped out of her trance when Bella jumped, an arm now thrown over her shoulders. The two of them looked up in sync, now staring at Owen who stood taller than the two of them, “Hey.”

Y/n looked between the two of them confusedly before the girl opposite of her smiled, “Y/n/n, this is my boyfriend, Owen, and Owen this is my best friend y/n!”

The boy nodded and smiled, “Nice to finally put a face to the name Bella brings up every time we hang out.”

Y/n quirked an eyebrow looking over at her friend, “Wow, I’ve never had someone talk so much about me.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s more in love with you than she is with me.” Bella hit Owen across the chest before giving him a look.

He glanced down at her before what seemed like recognition flashed in his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He turned to look over his shoulder, eyes trying to find a familiar lanky figure, “Oh right. Luke c’mere!”

To the side of them, the rest of y/n and Bella’s friends stood next to the four remaining hockey players, one snapping his head up to look at the trio. He excused himself from the group before making his way over to them, smiling awkwardly, “Hey.”

“So you’ve met Bella,” Owen gestured to his girlfriend who grinned and waved.

Luke nodded his head, his nervous smile still plastered on his face as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Before Owen could get another word out, Bella’s excited voice filled their ears, “And this is my best friend, y/n!”

Said girl made eye contact with the boy, her cheeks flushing, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

An uncomfortable silence fell around them before Bella once again made her presence known, “Well Owen and I have a reservation to get to so we’ll see you later.”

“But I thought we were-”

“Bye, y/n/n!” The two stumbled down the hallway and only got so far before they let out amused giggles. 

The rest of their friends had already left, leaving as soon as Luke had made his departure from the group. So now, y/n stood next to him, embarrassed by the situation the two had been shoved into. For a moment, they just kept stealing glances at each other before Luke spoke, “Do you want to get some food? I mean we don’t have to but I just thought since they kind of left us that you-”

She cut him off with a laugh, “Sure.” 

The two started making their way down the hallway, making small talk about the most generic things. When they reached the door, Luke opened it and ushered her through, y/n’s small ‘thank you’ making its way to his ears. 

As he stepped out into the parking lot, the October air making its way through his jacket, his eyes trained on the letters on the back of her shirt, “Where’d you get that shirt?”

She stopped briefly, remembering what exactly was on her back before she spoke, “Oh uh Bella’s brother went here when yours did and she just stole this shirt from him and then gave it to me to wear tonight.”

He nodded, and the two of them walked down through the parking lot toward his car. Silence fell around them once again, a chill making its way up y/n’s spine. She shuddered, pulling the sleeves of her shirt around her and before crossing them over her chest. Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her, “Here.”

“Oh I’m fine, thank you though.”

“Hah as if, take it.”

Reluctance shone in her eyes but the stubbornness that shone in his was too heavy to ignore, so she took it from him and wrapped it around herself, sighing at the newfound warmth it brought her. They reached his car only seconds later, Luke opening the passenger side door, waiting for her to climb in. 

Once she was, he closed it, walked over to the driver’s side to get in himself, turned the car on, and put the heat on full blast before pulling out of the parking lot and starting to drive through campus. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Dinner came and went, the two of them stopping at one of the local restaurants in town before he dropped her back off at her dorm room. When he put the car in park, the two of them stole glances at each other, breaking out in a laugh once their gazes met. 

“Thank you… for dinner.”

Luke nodded, “Yeah ‘course.”

She slowly opened the door, stopping to hand him his jacket that he had loaned her earlier. He smiled as their hands brushed, taking the fabric into his hand knowing full well that as soon as she was gone he would just throw it haphazardly in the backseat. 

“I um-” he started, stammering over his words as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. A beat passed and he let out a breath before locking eyes with her, “Do you want to hang out sometime?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks despite being out in the cold, she blinked a few times before nodding, unable to keep the grin off her face, “Yeah. I’d love to.”Luke watched her walk to her dorm, studying each letter of his last name splayed on her back. While it was his name and his number, it wasn’t truly his. But he’d make it his mission to see his jersey on her, even if it took all the time in the world.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○�� ୧ .˚ₓ

2. new year, new meaning - the first time y/n wears luke’s jersey 

It had been almost a year since Luke and y/n had met, hanging out every waking moment they could. If Luke was somewhere cross-country, they would set time to FaceTime each other, giggling like middle schoolers as they talked. 

But today would be the first time wearing Luke’s jersey… as his girlfriend. To say she was nervous was a complete understatement, not that she was worried Luke would make fun of her or anything, she knew he would do quite the opposite actually. Yet, the thought of other people even just thinking something about her doing it to get attention made her uncomfortable. 

She toyed with the ends of her braids, staring at herself in the mirror of her shared dorm room. She was still rooming with Bella, who had been watching her from her bed since y/n had started getting ready, but the girl had certainly lost her enthusiasm for going to games with her boyfriend in Buffalo now. 

She adjusted the baseball cap on her head before turning to look at her best friend, “Yes? No? I don’t know maybe I should change-”

“Y/n stop it,” Bella hopped off her bed, making her way over to the girl and placing her hands on her shoulders. “You look amazing, you look hot, if Luke doesn’t take you out after the game, I will.”

She let the tension release from her shoulders, taking a deep breath before nodding, “Yeah… okay.”

The two drove to the arena, making comments here and there about how the team would do this year, whether Luke would be called up or not this year, how Owen was adjusting to his life in Buffalo, etc. They walked into Yost Arena, hand in hand as they navigated their way to their seats. 

She had been so in her head that they had gotten there about 10 minutes before the game started causing them to have to find their seats quickly. Y/n hadn’t seen Luke since yesterday, she had been too busy with classes to allow him to come over or to go over to his to see him, so she was left with not seeing him until after the game. 

Throughout the whole game, her eyes were trained on her boyfriend, watching as he skated across the ice, took a few hits, and caused a few altercations with the opposing team. As the clock winded down, her thumb made its way to her mouth, biting at her nails as she tried to keep up with everything that was happening. 

When Luke scored the game-winning goal, she was all but silent, screaming out how happy she was that not only they had won but he had been the reason they had. It made her buzz with excitement as they made their way down to the tunnel, exchanging a few words with some of the people they passed that they knew. 

Her feet had started aching from standing too much, so she found comfort against the wall and pulled out her phone no doubt going to play Block Blast. She was too into the game to notice Luke standing above her, it took him to place his shoes right up against her for her to look up, a bright grin spreading across her face, “Lukey!”

She stood, going on her tiptoes in order to wrap her arms around his neck, “M’so proud of you.”

He buried his head into her neck, bending down to do so, as his arms snaked around her waist, bringing her as close as possible to him, “Thank you, baby. Think you’re my good luck charm.”

His hand shamelessly made its way down to her ass, giving it a soft pat before pulling away to stare at her. She blushed under his gaze and from his small action, leaning forward to rest her head against his chest. Y/n didn’t have to see Luke to know that he had a smug look on his face, lips most likely turned up into a smirk. 

“You look good in my jersey, baby.” His hand rubbed circles on her back, trying to coax her to remove her head from the confines of his chest. 

She mumbled a soft ‘thank you’, her arms now around his torso. He didn’t say anything more, just soaking in the moment with her, standing there in silence. He was one of the last ones to leave the locker room but by now he was sure all of his teammates had already left and the fans had all cleared out. 

“C’mon, it's late. Let's get you to bed, hm?”

She nodded, finally pulling away and lacing her fingers with his as they walked out of the arena and towards his car.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Luke laid behind y/n on his bed, toying with the end of her jersey, wrapping the fabric around his finger, “Did I tell you how good you looked in this?”

He tugged at it, making her look over at him, “Just briefly, I think, yes.”

“Briefly isn’t enough. You look beautiful, sweetheart.” He glanced up at her face just in time to see her look away and the pink flush on her cheeks. 

He whined, “Don’t look away, wanna see my pretty girl.”

“You’re so needy.” She teased lightly but complied nonetheless, maneuvering so she was lying down beside him, facing him as he had wanted. 

He moved his hand up to her face, brushing his fingers over her cheek. She fell asleep quickly after that, exhaustion catching up with her as soon as she lay down. He huffed out a laugh, moving to take her jersey off so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable while she slept. 

He did his best to not look as he slipped his shirt over her head, not wanting to push a boundary that he wasn’t sure they were ready to cross yet. He changed himself, slipping on a pair of shorts and another random t-shirt he found lying around before crawling back into bed, the image of her in his jersey permanently engraved in his mind.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

3. new jersey - her first new jersey devils game in her new jersey

Thanks to Jack, getting out to New York had been easy for her. With no classes on that Friday, she was able to fly out Thursday night, landing at almost midnight and heading to the hotel with Jack. Luke hadn’t questioned why his brother was leaving their apartment at 11, assuming that it was just some weird late-night craving that he needed to fulfill. 

The next day she sat surrounded by the other wives and girlfriends of the Devils at UBS Arena watching as they faced the Isles. She had initially planned on going to one of their home games but this had been the first game she was able to attend and she couldn’t wait any longer to see her boyfriend play professional hockey.

Her streak of being a good luck charm at his game continued because he got his first goal of the season early into the second period. The cheers were loud around her and she wasn’t sure if it was her own cheering or if there actually were other people doing the same thing as her. 

She looked down at what she was wearing, it was different to see the red fabric and the Devils logo staring back at her but she smiled as she thought about how far he had come since the two of them met. She was so unbelievably proud of her and she would trade anything in the world to see him as happy as he was. 

Devils fans across the arena were beaming with excitement as they exited, Jack had just scored their overtime game-winning goal, and everyone, save for the Islanders fans, couldn’t have been happier.

She waited in the tunnel with some of the others like she had done countless times before back in Michigan. She played with the edge of her jersey as she rocked back and forth on her heels, making small conversations with those around her. 

A loud voice caught her attention followed by a laugh, “Just walk out backwards! Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you that’s the problem.” She could recognize her boyfriend’s grumbled voice from a mile away, a grin appearing on her face at the annoyance that was ever so present in his tone.

“Okay okay stop. Now don’t turn around ‘till I say so.” Jack ran to hug y/n, giggling into her ear like he was about to pull the dumbest prank possible on his brother. 

Luke turned when he was told to, his face looked more annoyed than she had thought it could be. He stared at his brother with an unamused look before his eyes drifted to his right, widening when he saw who was looking back at him, “Y/n/n?”

“What? Thought I would miss your first goal of the season. Never.”

His annoyed expression quickly turned around, making his way over to her to wrap her in a hug, “You’re here. Holy shit, how the fuck did you get here?’

“A plane.” 

He rolled his eyes, “You know what I meant.”

“Didn’t have any classes and I wanted to see you. Jack picked me up from the airport last night, stayed in a hotel, and now I’m here.”

The rest of the group had left by now, allowing the two to have a moment to themselves. He pulled away, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. His eyes glassed over as he stared at her, it hadn’t really been long since they had seen each other, maybe a month or two, but it had been awful without her. 

“Lukey,” her voice was soft as she grabbed his hand, squeezing it with just as much gentleness, “Don’t cry, you dork.”

His laugh was wet, tears lacing it. He took his free hand to his face, wiping the few tears that had managed to escape his eyes. She smiled at him, “You haven’t even noticed what I’m wearing yet!”

At that, he blinks the remaining sadness from his eyes, moving them to trail over her outfit, “Turn around.”

She did as she was told, turning slightly so he could. He moved her hair out of the way, placing it over her shoulder as his fingers traced over each letter of his name and the ‘4’ and the ‘3’. He stepped closer, leaning down to kiss her neck and her jaw before turning her back around, “Didn’t think you could get any prettier, but you always find ways to prove me wrong.”

She kissed him, hand cupping the back of his neck to bring him down to her level. His hands found their way to her hips almost instantly, sinking into the kiss easily. Her fingers tangled in his curls, giving them a slight tug once the need to breathe overtook her senses. 

Pulling away to rest her forehead against his, despite her having to go up on her toes, she moved her hand to cup his face. It took a few seconds before she spoke, still trying to catch her breath, “Proud of you, you know that?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I do.”She re-intertwined her fingers with his, swinging their hands back and forth slightly as they walked out of the arena together, making their way into the earlier chill of October in New York. If one thing was certain after today, it was that Luke would never get tired of his name sprawled across her back, or anywhere on her really. It was his favorite sight to see, one that would be in his mind forever. Plus, he couldn’t wait to make it her last name too.

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[d3vilcvntz]

(top male reader x older bottom character)

being a sugar baby to an older man but you're the top >>>

you're so much younger and so much smaller than him. he's literally towering above you whenever you guys are together. people will always assume that he's the top in your relationship.

you are not even struggling with money, you're doing this just because you can. i mean, who doesn't want a handsome man taking care of you and pampering you with money everyday ?

you met him when you were scrolling through a dating app, seeing his profile that barely shows his face. he did messaged you first, asking to meet up if you're free and you agreed. you lowkey expected someone ugly to come but you don't even care at this point, anything for a thousand dollars i guess. you were so glad that you were wrong when you actually saw him face to face. for someone his age, he's really attractive.

you guys constantly meet up after that, just going on dates anytime you're both free. he paid for everything though, you did offered to pay sometimes but he always refused it. it was just casual until you both went drinking one day, getting so drunk that he ended up getting pounded by you that night. you were scared that everything will end here and you'll never see him again

but the next day, he offered you a position. you'll be his personal dildo and he'll pamper you with money everyday. this is like the best offer you've ever received. sex with someone as attractive as him and getting paid at the same time ? fuck yeah

at this point, most of your friends knew about this relationship as you literally started wearing expensive clothes and saying that you're busy anytime your friends asked to hangout. they sometimes asked the reasons why you can't hangout with them and you'll just says that you have something important to do at night. you weren't exactly lying though

pushing his head into the pillow, grabbing his hips so roughly that it leave marks behind. his hole tightly clamped into your cock, you leaned closer to him "it's so funny how everyone think you're the top" you whispered to his ear "when you're literally getting fucked like a whore everynight" you continued, pulling your cock out of his hole.

he turns to look at you right away, whimpering, feeling empty as his hole clenched on nothing "please...don't pull it out" he begged so sweetly, tears running down his face. you smiled at him, grabbing his arm to turned his body to you so you can see him completely. it caught him off guard as you'll always do it from behind "i wanna see your face while i ruined you tonight" you said, your hand reached out and touched his face, wiping his tears away. leaning towards him to kiss his swollen lips

you slide your cock inside of him again, pulling away from the kiss and slowly speeding up your pace. his hands grabbed the sheets, mouth agape with sweets sounds coming out of it. his poor useless cock bouncing everytime you thrusts into him, just leaking precum all over his stomach "i..want to- ah! cum.. i want to cum~!" he repeated, looking at your face for approval. you smiled at him, nodding your head as your hand reached out to touch his cock. teasing the tip before pumping it roughly

he came first, his eyes roll back as the white liquid spurt all over his stomach and your hand. you slammed your cock so deep inside of him as you release your load in him.

falling asleep and waking up the next day to him being gone from your side. only leaving money on the nightstand. you sighed and took the money. sitting on the edge of the bed, getting ready to go through your day like usual. dont worry, you'll see him again tonight.

[emitowrites]

Ok this is so true, but then my brain does the thing, and something completely different comes out. It’s not even a horse that I’m creating, it’s an entire herd…

I started writing a story called Everywhere, Everything exactly one month ago today, and I decided the other day to read it fully for the first time. And let me tell you… when I was writing it, I had no idea where it was going, but holy shit…

I’d had these two ideas, so imagine like two parts of the horse image above are detailed and glorious, and there isn’t even an idea of a horse in between them, just a blank space. I had these story bookends, but I didn’t even map out a vague idea of how to connect them, just started writing it. I barely even edited it before I posted the chapters. I let it flow out of me in, what, like, 4 days, and then moved on to the next thing.

I hadn’t read it back in the weeks since I posted it, and then I read it fully over the past few days and… the bits that I had thought were the beautiful, detailed parts of the story, those two initial ideas? They now read like they were actually only a first draft, like a kid had drawn a stick figure horse. It’s the rest of it that works. Somehow, I’d foreshadowed things I hadn’t even thought of yet. I’d hinted at things without realising it, but maybe I can only see that with hindsight and distance?

I loved writing it so much. I didn’t even eat or move (of my own volition) the entire time, just let it course out of me. My partner had to bring me food and remind me to go to the bathroom and sleep even! And I know that it’s not the best I could have done. It was rushed and spontaneous and uncontrollable and… I want to rewrite it all now, make those initial ideas fit better for the rest of the story, you know? They feel clunky and awkward, hurried and inelegant. Who knows, maybe I will rewrite it at some point… if my brain ever stops coming up with new ideas for me to explore.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say (but am instead dancing around and losing my way a bit, get it together Em!) is that sometimes you think you’re creating one thing, and then the ‘art’ actually happens and you’ve emerged with something else entirely. Sometimes your projection from the place you start is completely different from where you end up.

For me, the point of art is not the product or the idea itself, but the journey you go on to create it.

me as a writer

[cameronwillow]

Unholy Contrition

R. C x fem reader

As the preachers daughter, you had a forbidden crush on the outer banks kook king. Fate made your father the priest of his father’s funeral, setting off a new chain of events. Including more interaction with a famous star on only fans who’s your biggest supporter.

CW: 18plus! Female and male masturbation, use of only fans, daddy kink, male and female receiving oral, praise and degrading, bulge in stomach, headlock, rough? Sex, blasphemy talk by Rafe. Barely edited because I’m exhausted.

Ward Cameron’s funeral felt more like the death of superman. You buttoned your black dress all the way to your neck, cross exposed still and made necessary adjustments to the loose clothing. Sighing, you cleared your throat and glanced to your bed. The pink blankets were decorated with stuffed animals and other pop culture references. Your vanity was still a little messy from getting ready and you subconsciously meshed your lips together. Smearing your gloss.

Your father was the Preacher of a large church in the city. You also lived one street away, making it easier for your father to be there most of the time. Ward and your father weren’t close so it surprised you that he was speaking but you were also deeply delighted. As you came down the stairs, trying to mask the bounce in your step as you went to the front door.

Your car wasn’t necessary since the distance wasn’t far but you decided to drive there anyway. The parking lot of the church was already filling and you were early. The fancy car you were hoping for wasn’t there yet and you deflated. After parking, your mary jane heeled shoes padded along the cement leading to the wooden floor of the place of worship. Your father was wearing his uniform and you smiled at him meekly. The actual funeral talk was outside, despite the heat. You stood nearby as your dad said a prayer by the tombstone.

It was extremely inappropriate to be excited for a funeral. It wasn’t that you were happy about Rafe experiencing emotional pain but any moment to see him up close and personal. You felt like a creep sometimes. A total pervert but you just couldn’t seem to help yourself. You followed him around in the shadows like a kitten to milk in high school. He didn’t notice of course. Too busy involved in sports, living it up at parties and hooking up with girls in the closet. You even listened to it outside the door a couple of times…

Rafe Cameron was known to be emotionally volatile, brooding and unavailable. You knew nothing would happen between you both but it didn’t hurt to imagine. Sticking to your image, you played the part of the sweet preacher’s daughter. Who was innocent, shy and had never done those naughty things others do. You were a believer, yes. Spiritual, yes. But not to the extent you played into. All those instincts came full force when you saw him.

He walked solemnly. Dressed in a tailored suit, his hair messy as if he just ran his fingers through it. Rafe’s sharp jawline was flexed with tension as he came to your dad. As he extended his hand, he wore a gold ring that shined on his finger and he looked over at you. You nearly moaned at his blue eyes appraising you.

“Ah, this is my daughter, Rafe. I’m not sure if you remember her.” Your dad pats you on the head and you gave Rafe a sweet smile. He nodded stiffly.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you around.” His low voice sent shivers down your spine as you watched him move towards the tombstone. His wide hands ran across the engraving and you couldn’t help but think about how they’d feel inside you. You managed to tilt your head down, paying your respects but you continued stealing glances.

Rafe met your stare for a second and you meekly looked down. Your heart thudded rapidly as you tried to act calm but you still felt his eyes on you as the service ended.

Hours later, after sound proofing your bedroom and changing clothes you were on your back. A vibrator pulsing against you as you whined and looked down at the camera rolling. Comments came in, praising and tipping you as you opened your thighs wider. You shook and opened your mouth behind your mask. Today you wore a kitty mask, yesterday was a bunny mask and the day before that was a Ghostface mask.

You flipped on your stomach, separated your legs with your ass up. The toy was firmly against your clit, your eyes twitched as you rode it. A new comment came through; the username was Playboy. A lot of money was sent with his own request and the words said, “Say you feel so good, daddy.” It wasn’t as out there as some request got so you started obliging.

“Oh, daddy, you feel so good.” The words were muffled from the mask but Rafe’s image came to mind as you began chanting the words like a prayer. Your climax came like a tidal wave and you whined. Your fingers dug into the blankets as you chased your high, mouth parted and drool came out of the corners. More money flooded in and you saw Playboy send enough payment to privately message you.

“Good girl. Such a pretty little pussy. Let me see that cum.” Given his generosity and it didn’t cross anything, you sat up and situated yourself. Pulling apart your thighs, you exposed your cunt. Creamy juices flowed from your entrance and smeared from being on your stomach. Your body felt hot as you saw Playboy typing.

“One day I want to taste it.”

You waited for another message but nothing came. You shut off the live feed and looked at the money you earned. It was a lot, more than enough to pay a few bills and you removed your mask. Your skin was damp with sweat, your hair mused and your makeup running. It was a good session. You curiously opened Instagram, seeing if Rafe had posted anything. He did. A picture of his family, including his father looking younger. Happier.

Rafe also looked happier, less weighed down with life’s complexities. He had his arm around Sarah and his hand on little Wheezie’s head. You continued scrolling, looking at his photos posted and finally his story. You wanted him. In any way you could get. You listened to every song he posted, watched every show he enjoyed and knew his work routine. Sighing, you rolled off the bed and got dressed. Your dad would be home soon and you usually ate dinner together. As you pulled a shirt over your head, you looked at the butterfly and rose tattoo on your wrist.

It was in honor of your late mother. No one knew you had it. Except your subscribers.

Rafe Cameron was a self-admitted pervert but even this was further that he usually went. He took off his mask, this time wearing a skull one and assessed all the funds he gained with this session. His cock felt drained but he had cum so much from the Kitty girl porn star’s video tonight. He had sent her more and more money, needing to finally hear her say the words he craved. Her movements had been messy, plump ass bouncing as she humped her toy. Her pretty pussy puffy as she worked herself into a frenzy. God, he wanted to fuck her. Pound her with his dick until she was crying with pleasure.

If he thought too hard about it, he was gonna fuck his own fist again. Rafe cleaned himself up, threw on his clothes and thought about the funeral. It was sad yeah but he found himself distracted by your pretty little face. You were so sweet looking with soft lips and gentle eyes. You gave him little glances during the service he couldn’t get out of his head. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine your lips wrapped around his dick.

He really needed to stop torturing himself, especially after he busted his load several times. But he did decide to look you up on instagram. It was a lot of aesthetic pictures, photography work and selfies with your father.

One photo made him pause, it was one from your high school graduation.

Fuck. He then recognized you. Back then you’d been quiet, always in the background and one time he could have sworn he saw you scurrying away after hooking up with a random kook in the closet.

Rafe curiously looked through your following, not finding anything out of the ordinary. His focus returned to the star he was subscribed to and supported. Her username was Goodlittleghost. He figured it out because of the use of masks.

You had a tattoo of a butterfly and rose on your wrist. One he wanted to kiss and pin down to the side of your head. Rafe groaned as his dick grew hard again. He set his phone down but picked it back up. He went back to Instagram, drawn to the pictures on there when Rafe scrunched his eyebrows.

One particular photo, you laughing with your arms outstretched. Carefree. But your dress, the long sleeves had pulled up ever so slightly. A black mark peeked out and he zoomed in. Did you have a tattoo? He looked through your following, trying more evidence and he was right. You did follow a local tattoo artist.

Rafe’s heart thudded as he looked further and froze. One of the pictures had that same tattoo as the star. But the artist spoke that the girl wanted to remain nameless.

Rafe needed to confirm his suspicions but how? He bit his lip and laid on his back. Tomorrow. He would go back to the church tomorrow.

“Dad, do you want me to bring your other pair of glasses?” You asked while skimming the wall filled with free events for the public. You planned on attending the fair, absentmindedly stroking your cross necklace when you heard the door open to the church.

Turning, you froze when you saw Rafe Cameron enter. He wore his usual casual well fitted clothes. He looked uncomfortable and tense until his eyes met yours. You plastered on your most innocent, docile smile and approached him with light steps. As if you didn’t touch yourself thinking about him the previous day.

Your dad called out, “Mr Cameron! How wonderful to see you here!” He greeted Rafe with a handshake, who tightened his lips in a gesture of an acknowledgment.

“Hey,” He spoke your father’s last name and kept eye contact with you. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

You dipped your head down, eyelash fluttering before nodding. “Of course, Mr. Cameron. Let’s go over here.” Both of you moved to seats away from your dad, who went back to the podium. You sat down, long skirt pooling around your thighs as Rafe met you. His leg pressed against yours and you forced yourself to move it away.

“I’ve never been inside the building longer than five seconds.” Rafe chuckled, spinning his ring. “Makes me feel like God is gonna strike me down or some shit. sorry.” He corrected himself and you giggled.

“It’s okay. Having faith doesn’t have a look.” He glanced briefly at your father and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, well my mom was a big believer. Never got into it. But since my old man died, I’ve been thinking about coming.” You resisted the urge to perk up like an interested puppy dog and crossed your legs.

“Oh? Why our church?” This was a genuine question and Rafe’s cheeks flushed.

“Ah-your dad did a good job with the funeral so it made sense to me.” Rafe then looked at your hand, narrowing his eyes and you understood he was staring at your sleeve. Subtly turning over your palm, you shifted your body to move away your arm.

“We welcome you if you decide.”

He looked frustrated, as if your responses weren’t to his liking but you held your ground. You had to keep up with the image, despite the urge to drop down on your knees and suck him right there.

“Group church isn’t my thing. What if…what if I just stopped by sometime? So you can talk more about it.”

“Oh? So you want a Bible study?” You questioned. Your dad would most likely raise a brow at the fact that Rafe wanted to see you specifically. But you were a grown woman.

“Yeah, yeah. Closer to Jesus and shit. You seem happy enough.” Rafe grumbled before giving you a smirk. “Unless it’s an act to hide something.”

Masking, you smoothed a hand over your hair. “No. I have faith and I mean it.” This wasn’t a lie. “But when would you want to have a discussion?”

“Mmm, I have a business meeting all day tomorrow. You good after that?” You nodded, probably a tiny bit too eagerly.

“Yes, of course. Mr. Cameron. This is my address,” You wrote it down on a small notepad you kept with you and gave it to him.

“Thanks. And call me Rafe, Angel. I think a little cute girl like yourself earned first name basis.” With that, he sauntered off and your heart rapidly pounded against your chest.

Little cute girl? You could walk the moon. At least you had extra motive for your session tonight. Even though you were collabing with Playboy tonight.

The other star wanted to do a joint call where you both do acts. Wearing masks of course. You were gonna wear your crown over your white mask. Playboy was going to wear a black skull one.

And your dad led a youth group tonight. It all worked out. Except the mild sadness as you heard Rafe leave the church.

Rafe was hot because of his mask. He leaned back in his chair, making sure to show the camera the best angle of his dick and hand jerking it like an animal. He grunted and gasped when he heard Ghost girl moan and cry out, “Just like that, daddy. Just like that.”

He opened his eyes. You were arching your back as the pulsing toy filled you to the brim. Your wet pussy giving it more slick as you made sounds close to crying. “Wanna be your good girl. I wanna be good for you.”

“Don’t cum yet.” Rafe kept his voice as low as possible but it was completely strained as you came closer to the video. Your swollen clit throbbing as you slowed down. You had both agreed on orgasm control for the collab.

“Daddy, please!” You screeched and started shaking. Rafe wanted to be even meaner but couldn’t stop himself from giving in.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over daddy’s cock.” He breathed and felt his own release as you came undone. You were chanting a series of “Thank yous,” and humping the toy.

You both made significant amounts of money and Rafe just happened to look up in the midsts wiping off his cum. He saw the tattoo again. Rafe could feel something when he went to church earlier. It felt like his instincts were right.

God, he wanted to fuck that pussy. He wanted to taste it. Cover his tongue with your sweet wetness. He was also on a mission. To see as much of your room as possible. So he could make the final connection.

As he opened his messages, he saw your user.

“You did good.” He smirked at the content and replied.

“And you did even better, Princess.”

To test the waters, he sent a rose emoji. But no reply came. Rafe put his boxers back on, removed the mask and licked his lips.

He was going to find out the truth. Even if it killed him. Rafe opened Instagram and jerked off again at the sight of your pictures, imagining your pouty lips open as he slapped your ass. And how he would grab that cross and fuck you with it.

You brought Rafe a piece of strawberry shortcake as he waited in your bedroom. You couldn’t believe after all this time, he was in your house. His buttoned striped shirt clung to his muscles as he accepted the plate.

“All this for me? Damn, I’m spoiled.” He gave you a wicked smile and you swallowed. Rafe’s bangs fell into his eyes as he took a bite and he moaned. “Mmm, this is good. Didn’t know your daddy had a baker hidden in his house.”

Sitting down, you smiled and watched him enjoy the savory delicacy.

“So, my Bible is over here.” You reached beside you on the table and grabbed it. Rafe caught your hand. You stiffened as he pulled up your sleeve.

Blinking, your eyes then widened as Rafe stared at the tattoo. He stared for a few seconds and then brought your wrist up. He gently pressed a kiss and pulled you towards him. You breathed heavier as Rafe took the Bible and opened it to a random section.

“What’s the matter, baby? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“Rafe-“

“First, I want you to read this. And try not to mess up.” His command held no room for argument as you looked at the verse.

“A lying tongue hateththose that are afflicted byit; and a flattering mouthworketh ruin.” but every word was breathless as Rafe put his hand against your tit. Gently squeezing.

“Good girl. If we’re gonna do this, you need to be able to read the Bible to me, huh?”

His bright eyes were darkening with lust as he squeezed your breast and you continued to read more verses.

“I knew it was you. That tattoo. And god those pretty moans. Even if I hadn’t seen it, I’d know by how you sound, baby.” Rafe slipped his fingers in your mouth, smirking as you sucked them softly.

“Aww, don’t worry, princess. I’ve been wanting to do this for sometime. Didn’t even have to touch you to make you cum.”

He pulled out his fingers, admiring your spit and gestured to the dresser. “I’m sure you can guess who I am.”

You whispered, “Playboy.”

“Mmmm, yeah. You’ve been such a good girl f’me. Making me all hard. I bet you’re wet.” He started but something broke in you. You sank onto the floor on your knees and Rafe groaned. He quickly seized your shirt and pulled it over your head.

He looked at your tits, pushed up inside your bra. Rafe then watched, mesmerized as you tugged down his pants. Your eyes widened as you saw it in person. It was big on screen but in real life…his heavy tip leaked with precum.

“That’s a real man’s dick, sweetheart. You wanna be a good girl and suck it like a sweet little whore?” Without hesitation, albeit some sloppiness, you ran your tongue all over the head. Your hands fondling his balls and you moaned as you took him further in your mouth.

Rafe let out a growl as he put his hand on your head. He pulsed it and started thrusting, hitting the back of your throat before shoving you down all the way until your nose hit his stomach.

“Choke on my fucking dick, Angel. I knew you’d be a good cock slut. Fuck!” He released you as you pulled back and coughed. Returning quickly, you took his balls into your mouth and sucked, jerking his dick off at the same time.

Rafe could have cum from your mouth and seeing your fucked out eyed as you glanced up at him. But he lifted you up by under your arms and manhandled you onto your back. Rafe slowly took off your skirt, revealing your lacy panties.

“I need to taste that goddamn pretty pussy. But first,” Rafe plucked the cross from your throat and dangled it. “I want to remember who owns this cunt. Not God. Me.” He gently lathered your cross with your arousal, making you mewl and arch your back. Nipples hardening as Rafe lowered down. He pushed aside your panties.

Rafe separated your folds with his thick fingers, licking a firm strip up your slit and lapped at your clit. You clutched his hair, pulling as Rafe moved his head. Smothering himself against your cunt as you cried out pathetically.

“Fuck, daddy. Feels-feels so good.” You panted as Rafe shoved his tongue inside you and you almost screamed as he then played with your clit.

Right before you came, Rafe pulled back. His chin shined with your juices and he smelled your scent from leaning on your thigh.

“God, as much as I want you to cream in my mouth, I need it to be around my dick.” He grabbed your knees and dragged you with him onto the floor.

Rafe moved you onto your back, watching your tits bounce as he lifted your legs higher. He sat up. “Gonna need these panties for later, little angel.” Peeling them off, Rafe made note of where they were as he slapped the head of his cock against your clit a few times.

You slowly moaned and increased volume as he thrusted into you. His dick was so big a slight bulge peeked from your lower stomach.

“It’s barely-fuck! It’s not fitting!” You wheezed but Rafe snarled.

“Oh, it’ll fucking fit, princess.” He yanked you closer, your thighs over his shoulders and bottomed out in you. Rafe aided by pressing your hand against your pussy.

“Play with that clit while I fuck you.” He ordered and you needily obeyed.

Your vision was white as Rafe worked himself into a deep, hard rhythm and pounded into you. His face was tense and morphed into pleasure as you let out babbles.

“What’s wrong? Is the little Bible slut, cock drunk?” Rafe huffed a laugh as he drove his hips harder. His balls slapping your ass and you reached up to grip his shoulders.

Your sweaty bodies moving together and Rafe was driven by madness as he flipped you over.

“Need to see my dick fuck that perfect pussy.” He shoved back into you and you clawed the floor. Rafe slapped your ass and his hand buried in your hair. He watched his cock go in and out.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin me. That’s it, fuck yourself on daddy’s dick. That’s a good little, slut.” His arm went around your throat as he pulled you against his chest.

You were slurring your words as he then met you in a messy, nearly brutal kiss. His tongue dominated yours and you felt his teeth. He sucked your lower lip as he bounced you faster.

Your belly uncoiled and you creamed all over him. You wailed a chorus of praise as Rafe fucked you through it. His own ropes of cum coating your insides shortly after.

Seconds went by and he lifted you easily off the ground. Rafe set you on his lap on the bed, encouraging you to straddle him. He looked beautiful as his eyes were glazed over. Rafe leaned in to meet your lips again, cupping your head and you wrapped your arms around him.

His other hand splayed on your lower back and he lost himself. Rafe made himself pull away, eyeing your bruised lips.

“You tasted so good, princess. Bet it’s even sweeter when I eat it out of you.”

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Tagging @bloodibambiidoll @cxrrodedcoffin @eerielamb @theeternaloptimistt @cl4uus @starkeysprincess @oceanblvd111 @rafesangelita @rafeinterlude @oceandriveab @sturnioloshacker @marchsfreakshow @evansroses @rafeyscurtainbangs @fear-is-truth @eddiesxangel @starkeysbabygirl @xxladymjxx

[collaredsoldat]

Apricot Toast.

summary: Soldat doesn't understand care can be without price.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Flashbacks of HTP | Past dehumanization | Mentions of past SA | Flashbacks of SA | Flashbacks of torture | Vulgar language | Hints to ED due to trauma

a/n: This 'chapter' includes brief scenes of active SA as well as heavily implied SA acts so be warned. Flashback scenes with more detailed torture & slightly suggestive scene with reader because he's confused :( It also ended up being a bit longer to make up for the last few shorter chapters. I'll be posting all of this on my A03 in case it gets too much for Tumblr. I hope you enjoy even though its a little more sad.

Italicized parts are flashbacks. Unedited. ;; wc: 6.8k

There were a lot of things that he endured. A lot of things he had to relearn and break free from.

One thing had him by a vice.

Kindness wasn't free. Food wasn't free. Neither was water. Or blankets. Or being spared a hit.

You had yet to ask him, but he knew you'd eventually expect it. Handlers never asked for it, they just did it. Some expected it.

His mind raced with thoughts, when should he do it? Should he just go up to you and begin? Or should he wait for your command to do so? He wasn't sure, every handler was different. Each one liked him to behave and act in conflicting ways, it always made the other angry. Sometimes he thought they did it on purpose just to have an excuse to beat him.

You were making breakfast, taking care to prepare something nourishing and comforting for the morning meal. His eating habits had been showing marked improvement lately, gradually expanding beyond the previous limitations that had restricted his diet to only three specific items. You cooked the items and hummed to yourself, a perfectly cooked egg, a well-seasoned sausage patty, and melted cheese - all coming together between the toasted halves of a lightly buttered English muffin.

It honestly sounded delicious, and you were craving it the second you woke up.

As you continued your preparations at the stovetop, he made his way into the kitchen with quiet steps, his legs seeming to move of their own accord, carrying him forward despite apparent fatigue.

Your focus remained entirely on the stove, your attention so thoroughly absorbed in the preparation of the meal that you failed to notice his presence initially as he positioned himself a few feet behind where you worked.

He swallowed.

"Get down," its handler shoved it roughly to the floor, causing its knees to collide painfully with the hardwood surface. It fought back the natural instinct to wince or show any sign of discomfort, instead raising its gaze cautiously to meet its handler's eyes. The handler's demeanor radiated an aura of anger this morning, more intense than usual.

The aroma of freshly prepared food wafted through the air, drawing the asset involuntarily from its designated corner. The standard-issue nutrient bags it was given to eat contained nothing but bland, lifeless substance.

The daily portions of pale, creamy mush possessed neither taste nor texture, just a starchy consistency that served only to fill its stomach. Though, some days it was lucky to get that and not an IV of nutrients instead, leaving its belly to grumble and growl desperately. It yearned for something with actual flavor, real sustenance.

But such privileges as real food had to be earned through compliance and good behavior, a fact that had been deeply ingrained in its consciousness. It understood that only through proving its worth to its handlers would it ever be granted access to anything beyond its basic provisions.

"You want food? Earn it." The handler's voice cut through the silence as he stood motionless, arms crossed firmly against his chest while scrutinizing the asset with calculating eyes. The threat hung heavy in the air - one slight misstep, one wrong twitch, and the familiar sharp sting of a calloused hand would strike its tender cheeks with practiced precision.

The hot, searing burn of electricity would shoot mercilessly through its neck, coursing down along its flesh shoulder like liquid fire before being abruptly halted by the cold, unnatural presence of foreign metal on the other side.

It fought to maintain perfect stillness, muscles trembling with the effort to show no reaction as its handler turned the burner to low and began to unclasp the heavy leather belt buckle.

It ignored how its mouth began to automatically salivate.

"Soldat?"

Your voice gently pierced through the thick fog of his consciousness as he blinked slowly, struggling to clear the distant, haunting glaze from his eyes. He remained caught in the web of memories he desperately wanted to shed, yet found himself unable to access the precious few recollections he yearned to preserve, leaving him suspended in an uncomfortable limbo between remembering and forgetting.

The things he wanted to forget remained. The ones he wished to remember were just out of reach.

He turned his attention to you with an expression devoid of any discernible emotion, his vacant gaze fixed upon your movements as you busied yourself with food preparation in the kitchen.

"I figured we could try introducing more solid foods into your diet. The doctor's last report shows you are progressing steadily, and this food should be gentle enough on your digestive system. We can have you eat them separately to start, jumping straight into a complete sandwich might be a bit too overwhelming for your body." You had kept track of his progress closely and knew he was leaning towards actually eating something instead of taking nutrient treatments and plain crackers and bread.

The soldier remained motionless, observing intently for several long minutes as new aromas wafted through the air - fresh eggs and bacon sizzling softly in the pan, their familiar domestic sounds filling the kitchen. It was comforting in a weird way.

As the smells hit his nose, his body betrayed him with a sudden, involuntary gag.

Its handler grunted with obvious disdain, practically spitting on its face while sneering at its sloppy, shiny lips and chin, droplets of saliva landing uncomfortably close to its nostrils. The handler's weathered face twisted into an expression of disgust as he observed its condition. "Thought we got rid of that...oh well. I suppose that responsibility falls squarely on my shoulders now, hm? Can't have the others seeing such weakness."

It doesn't like how its lungs burn with increasing intensity or how terribly constricted its throat feels, the muscles tightening painfully with each passing second.

"You ain't comin' up for air until that reflex is completely gone. Better learn quick, or we'll be here all day," the handler's voice carried a cruel note of satisfaction.

The soldier swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly flooding with saliva as he desperately tried to manage the conditioned response his body gave to the memories. His brow furrowed deeply with visible discomfort, eyes meeting yours with a subtle look of distress as he continued to swallow repeatedly, fighting against the involuntary reaction.

His stomach rolled unpleasantly within him, and he could feel the telltale burning sensation of acid creeping up his esophagus, threatening to make the situation even more uncomfortable.

"Are you okay?" You asked with genuine concern, taking a step in his direction as you tried to figure out what was wrong. Maybe he had an aversion to eggs that you hadn't known about.

"I can make something else...it's not a problem," you offered reassuringly, wanting to ease his obvious discomfort. You wondered if the smell was triggering his response. You had to admit that eggs weren't exactly the most appealing when it came to their smell, no matter how they were dealt with.

He took an unsteady step backward, his head shaking in a slow, deliberate motion as realization dawned. You weren't him - that fact resonated clearly in his mind. You weren't his handler, the one who had dominated his existence for so long.

You weren't the man whose systematic abuse had warped his perception of normalcy, the one who had conditioned him to accept having his hair violently yanked and his face brutally beaten as just another unremarkable day in his life.

You weren't the man who had subjected him to repeated violations at the hands of various agents, each taking their turn whenever they pleased, leaving him with lingering physical and psychological trauma that made the current absence of that familiar agony in his rectum feel strangely disorienting.

You weren’t him.

The absence of any implements of torture or restraint in your hands provided a small measure of comfort, though his racing thoughts struggled to fully process this gentler reality. It was somewhat reassuring, he had to admit, that there were no tools of torment present - no leather straps, no metal bars, nothing between your legs that could be forced down his throat until he choked and gasped for air.

"How about we try something gentler for your taste buds - maybe some toast with jam? I have grape, apricot, or strawberry," you suggested carefully, moving toward the refrigerator to retrieve the jars. You carried a note of gentle concern as you sought to salvage the strange situation. It worried you how openly he was displaying his distress; typically, getting any emotional response from him was like trying to pry open a sealed vault.

You returned your focus to the simple task at hand, selecting two pristine slices of bread and placing them into the toaster. As Soldat observed your actions, a creeping sense of guilt began to gnaw at him.

In his mind, this felt like some form of punishment - after all your effort to prepare a proper breakfast, he was now being offered merely toast? The thought that his involuntary gagging had somehow disappointed or offended you weighed heavily on his conscience. Were you going to make him eat less tasty food and punish him for wasting your time in the kitchen? He didn’t mean to come across as being ungrateful. He didn’t know why he gagged.

He didn't mean to.

He really didn't.

It wasn't you.

"Мне жаль [I'm sorry]," he muttered out, his voice barely audible and scratchy from prolonged disuse, the words catching in his throat like rough sandpaper. Your head instinctively turned to respond to his unexpected words, completely taken aback by the fact he spoke. But before you could form any words, the sharp, hollow sound of his knees colliding with the wood floor cut through the air and stopped you mid-thought.

The impact of his knees against the hard surface was so forceful that you couldn't help but wince, yet he showed absolutely no reaction to what must have been a painful collision. It was as if this position of supplication was something his body had memorized through countless repetitions. His hands found their way to your legs, fingers spreading across your thighs as he established his grip - not violently or painfully, but with just enough pressure to make it clear that any attempt to step away would be met with resistance.

"Простите меня. Я съем то, что ты приготовил [Forgive me. I will eat what you prepared]," he managed to say, briefly lifting his gaze to meet yours in a moment before his eyes dropped back down to the floor in a gesture of submission.

You tried desperately not to react to the cold of his metal hand, but the goosebumps erupting on your skin was a good indicator.

You remained motionless, not sure how to proceed as his firm grip maintained its hold on your thighs, the pressure neither increasing nor decreasing. Your eyes were fixed downward, observing his form as intermittent tremors passed through his broad shoulders. His consciousness seemed trapped with thoughts simultaneously racing at lightning speed yet yielding no coherent message he could decipher.

The overwhelming feeling washing over his body made him feel disoriented, the glaze that coated his eyes gave him that familiar distant and unstable look the soldier had for decades.

Soldat’s hands began moving up along your legs, eventually finding their way to your waistband. His fingers quickly hooked themselves into the fabric and began to pull downward. The movements in his mind were automatic, like he were being told what to do without an order.

A mechanical, involuntary habit that guided him.

Your hands shot out to grasp your shorts, halting their movement as you stammered in shock, "Soldat! What are you doing-"

The soldier's focus was glued to you as he desperately attempted to remove your shorts, his jerky movements filled with an intense urgency. When he couldn't pull them down because your hands held them in place, he pressed his face against your thigh, inches from your core as a plaintive whine escaped his throat. His gaze lifted to meet yours, eyes wide and pleading, filled with an unmistakable look of begging that made your breath catch.

Though you managed to prevent your shorts from being removed, his firm grip on your legs remained unyielding, fingers pressing into your skin with careful restraint. His entire demeanor radiated an overwhelming sense of desperation, every movement and sound conveying his intense need for something.

"Пожалуйста [Please]..." His desperate whines filled your ears, the sound raw and needy as he continued to frantically paw at your shorts. His actions grew increasingly bold and insistent with each passing moment, his face pressing more firmly against your crotch. The heat of his ragged breath seeped through the thin layer of your underwear, causing your entire body to jolt upward at the intense sensation.

Soldat's movements became more demanding, yet still maintained a careful restraint that belied his strength. Each exhale against the fabric sent shivers through your form, his pleading whimpers growing more frequent and desperate with each passing second.

"What??” Your voice came out as a soft whisper, tone trembling under your breath, “Stop it, I don’t understand what you need..." you pleaded with increasing distress, your eyes widening with growing concern as you looked down at him.

This sudden, intense behavior was completely unexpected and deeply unsettling to you. Here was a highly trained super soldier, a former assassin whose very presence commanded respect and the mention of his name drew fear; gripping onto you with an intensity that reminded you of his immense physical capabilities.

He wasn't actively trying to overpower you, the sheer knowledge that he could effortlessly do so at any moment made your anxiety spike. Your heart raced faster as you became aware of how vulnerable you were in this position, despite his current restraint.

"Пожалуйста, я могу сделать так, чтобы тебе было хорошо [Please, I can make you feel good]," he whined out again, his voice wavering between a desperate whisper and something deeper, more primal. The pleading tone in the ingrained foreign tongue carried a deeper grinding sound to it. His hands found their way to the sides of your thighs, his fingers pressing gently against the soft flesh. He continued his careful pawing motions, methodically working to ease the tension he could feel beneath his touch, trying to coax your muscles into a state of relaxation so your legs would naturally fall open.

"Soldat, enough," you said firmly, trying to push his head away from where he had settled himself. Confusion and nervousness flooded through you, your heart racing as you struggled to process the situation. The soldier’s behavior left you completely taken aback. He had been hesitant to even lay close to you, his usual cautious nature dominated every aspect of him as he was slowly learning how to live and heal without being under a boot and whip.

Yet now, in his display of boldness, he had positioned himself so his nose pressed insistently against your crotch while his tongue was dangerously close, threatening to dart out and lap your sweet core at any moment.

You could feel him try, and you couldn't stand it.

"Soldat! Нет [No]!" You snapped loudly, your voice carrying a sharp edge of authority and stern disapproval that echoed through the room. The commanding tone felt foreign on your tongue, but you maintained your composure. He immediately tensed up, his shoulders going rigid as he pulled back from his position almost immediately at your voice. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching your expression for any sign of wavering before dropping submissively to the floor. He blinked several times in rapid succession, his features contorting slightly as if he were mentally processing the weight and meaning of your command.

Slowly, his hands released their grip on your thighs, trembling visibly as they lowered to rest against the floor between his spread knees. The tension gradually drained from your shoulders as relief washed over you, though the atmosphere remained thick with lingering anxiety. The sudden sharp pop of the toaster cut through the heavy silence like a knife, startling you back to reality. The acrid smell of burnt toast assaulted your nostrils, making your nose crinkle in distaste.

"Damn..." you muttered under your breath, turning quickly to rescue the smoking bread from its fate. While you were occupied with charred toast, the soft rustle of movement behind you caught your attention, but when you spun back around to check, the space where he had been sitting just moments before was empty.

The soldier retreated to his usual hiding space, a behavior that hadn't manifested in quite some time. The sight of him seeking refuge caused an uncomfortable tightness in your chest to grow in pressure, concern washed over you about potentially undoing months of careful progress. The heavy atmosphere weighed on you, but you maintained your composure and focused on preparing his breakfast with extra attention to detail. After everything was arranged on the plate, no burnt toast, you carefully carried the meal to his hiding spot.

In the darkened corner of the closet, Soldat had tucked himself away, his form compressed into the smallest possible space. His shoulders were hunched, head turned away, deliberately avoiding any eye contact or acknowledgment of your presence. The regression in his behavior was painfully obvious, every subtle movement and tension in his posture reminded you of day one. His fearful eyes, he lashed out sometimes, but mostly kept to himself in hiding, so terrified of you.

Rather than risk further distress by attempting conversation or coaxing him out, you quietly placed the plate of food within his reach and stepped away, giving him the space he seemed to desperately need.

The food grew cold as the meal was forgotten in his isolation.

He didn't eat that day.

"You don't deserve it, you worthless whore." Its handler shoved it down to the floor with unnecessary force - the asset spat out the remains of its servicing, watching as it splattered across the worn wooden floor of the safehouse. The foul substance seeped through the splintering cracks, leaving an unpleasantly bitter aftertaste lingering on its tongue.

In any other circumstance, this level of compliance would have been considered exemplary behavior worthy of positive reinforcement - perhaps a few precious sips of water, a meager piece of stale bread, anything at all to acknowledge its obedience - but instead, it was being treated with the same harsh disdain reserved for malfunctions.

But maintenance wasn't needed.

It had pushed itself to its absolute limits, performing exactly as required until its vision swam and its lungs burned from oxygen deprivation. The growing resentment towards this particular handler festered silently within - this cruel overseer who consistently denied even the smallest rewards for its dedicated service and unwavering compliance.

Conflicting thoughts raced through its mind; it wasn’t supposed to feel negatively towards anyone of authority over him. Maybe these negative feelings were a sign that more maintenance was required - a thorough cleansing of its consciousness to eliminate any trace of hatred or resentment. Pure and unwavering obedience should be all that remained within its programming, for nothing else held any significance in its existence.

"Пожалуйста, позвольте мне попробовать еще раз, сэр [Please, let me try again, sir]," the asset's voice emerged as barely more than a whisper, trembling with uncertainty while simultaneously carrying undertones of desperate pleading, each word carefully chosen in hopes of earning mercy. Sometimes, if it played the role of kicked mutt well enough, it was granted.

But the handler's patience had clearly reached its limit, his expression hardening as he regarded the cowering thing before him with cold indifference.

"Нет. Вы будете голодать [No. You will starve]." He responded in a low tone, deliberately targeting an already purple and swollen bruise on its leg with a swift kick. The asset clenched its jaw tightly, forcing itself to suppress the instinctive cry of pain that threatened to escape. It bit its tongue in the process.

Its own blood tasted better than its handler's cock.

Days stretched endlessly without a single glimpse of him. Every morning and evening, you left plates of food outside the closet, but they remained untouched, the warm meals growing cold in the silent room. He had completely withdrawn into the closet, making it his sanctuary and prison all at once. Each time you carefully made your way into the spare room, hoping to see some change in his demeanor…but all you found was him still hidden away in the shadows, refusing to emerge.

Your concern grew as you collected each neglected plate of food - you couldn't bear the thought of him falling back into his previous pattern of food refusal, especially after how hard you had worked to establish a healthy eating routine. It was painful to watch him fight every time a needle had to be inserted into him, he ripped out nearly every single one with a horrified look on his face that made your throat feel constricted.

You approached once more, this time carrying a fresh plate of warm food. Setting yourself down on the floor, you peered gently into the darkness of the closet. You could see him huddled, knees to his chest and arms wrapped around them. Your voice came out soft and coaxing in hope to ease him out like you had before. "Soldat...come out please. You have to eat...you don't want to be put on an IV again, do you?" You called gently, hoping your words would finally reach him.

Soldat's head turned slightly at your words, his muscles tensing visibly at the mere suggestion. The thought of another IV sent waves of anxiety through his body - every previous attempt had devolved into complete chaos.

The memory of countless needles delivering a steady stream of sedatives into his bloodstream while he laid strapped down to a metal table, keeping him in a perpetual state of haziness and compliance, rendering him powerless as an endless parade of agents ran through him without fear of his resistance.

The idea of another IV made his skin crawl.

"Soldat?" Your gentle voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, attempting to draw his attention back. His head lifted with a slight jerk, his focus shifting to settle on the plate of food you were holding. A deep rumble emanated from his stomach, accompanied by an unusual wave of nausea that demanded he finally eat something. The aroma wafting from the plate was surprisingly tolerable - a welcome change that didn't trigger his usual reflexive gagging response.

He struggled to understand the aversion his body developed to certain foods, eggs had never bothered him before. The gagging reflex he had to the eggs you were cooking left him confused and frustrated. His memory of recent events remained disconcertingly hazy, fragments slipping away like sand through his fingers.

The flashbacks that plagued him operated on their own, materializing with brutal clarity and lingering just long enough to inflict mental distress, only to be replaced by another equally disturbing memory. It was like being trapped on HYDRA's twisted carousel, a ride he couldn't get off of. Each memory rotating through his consciousness, creating an endless loop of psychological torment that prevented any possibility of moving forward.

"It's okay, Soldat. It's just toast," you slid the plain white plate towards him, careful not to make any sudden gestures, "Just like before, but this time it's not burnt." You added with a small, reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. The scent of warm bread filled the space as you waited patiently to see if he would respond, watching his tense posture for any signs of acknowledgment. Though you hoped he might say something or at least meet your eyes, you knew not to expect much.

The soldier's eyes looked down at the bread, studying the golden-brown toast that delicately cradled a generous layer of apricot jam smeared across its surface. The vibrant orange-yellow spread glistened invitingly in the dim light peeking through the open closet door. He had never tasted apricot jam before - such luxuries were foreign to him. In HYDRA, bread was always consumed plain, devoid of any spreads or toppings.

Even butter was a forbidden indulgence.

On the rare occasions he received any bread at all, he would consider himself fortunate to get more than stale, discarded crust, just the meager remnants his handlers had left behind after consuming the body of the bread.

You observed his hesitant yet curious expression as he examined the topping on the toast. You picked up one of the pieces and held it out to him for gentle encouragement. "It's yummy, I promise," you assured him warmly, "But if you don't like it, I can always make you different toast, grape or strawberry."

Soldat's lips twitched downward in an almost-frown, his features tight with anxiety. The thought of you having to remake his food filled him with growing distress. He had already been so terribly bad.

His behavior was unbecoming of HYDRA's greatest assassin.

His desperation grew as he recalled his attempts to convince you to let him earn his meal, to somehow make amends for what he perceived as deeply offensive behavior. The look on your face when his face had been between your legs made his body shiver. You didn’t look like you enjoyed it, you looked upset. The memory of his earlier gagging left him feeling ill, knowing that such a transgression would have resulted in punishment from his handlers. They would have beaten him so severely that the memory-wiping chair would have been unnecessary - his memories would have been scattered and broken enough from the repeated brutal impacts to his skull.

There were times that he thought they tried to make him brain dead on purpose, subjecting him to increasingly brutal treatments that left his mind foggy and disconnected. If it weren't for his use to HYDRA as their attack dog, he was convinced that they would have destroyed his consciousness entirely.

They remarked on it enough times during their sessions, casual comments about how close they were to breaking him. He always got nervous when the hits began, dreading not just the physical pain but the growing fear that this time they might finally succeed in erasing what remained of his sanity.

It laid at the feet of two men who had finished with it.

Its body sore and blood coating his ass and inner thighs, dripping down with creamy fluid following suit. The muscles in its legs trembled violently and its prosthetic arm hung uselessly at its side, deliberately deactivated to ensure complete defenselessness should it attempt any resistance today. Its body had transformed into purple and crimson bruises, overwhelming what little remained of its natural pale complexion. Its throat burned with an intense, desperate thirst for water, while an unpleasant salty taste lingered persistently in the back of its parched mouth.

The asset's mind reeled, completely overwhelmed by panic as it processed the numbness spreading through its deactivated arm. Its primary means of defense now rendered completely ineffective. Survival instinct took over its overstressed mind, it remained perfectly motionless, silently willing the two figures to conclude their business and depart.

These particular sessions rarely extended beyond a couple of hours when only two agents were involved, and by its estimation, they were approaching that temporal threshold. A wave of relief washed over it as they finally began adjusting their clothing back into place.

"Imagine how it'd be as a fuckin' vegetable...god that shit gets me goin' faster than a naked whore presenting her sloppy pussy to me." Its handler's tone was sick, as always, speaking about it with such callous disregard, treating it as if it were nothing more than some cheap, silicone toy from a seedy shop for base physical gratification. The way the words rolled off his tongue made its stomach turn with disgust.

"It's basically one now, what do you mean?" This voice carried a detached, almost bored quality to it, the speaker's words falling flat and emotionless in the air - perhaps intentionally so, as if trying to distance himself from the situation despite their willing participation. Newer agents were always hesitant to use it. This one wasn’t familiar to it, in taste, look, or smell, so it assumed it was probably a rookie recently promoted.

"I mean...completely unable to do anything. It lays there like a doll...barely conscious, droolin' and only aware of what I choose to let it experience. Having complete control over where it goes and what happens to it, takin' it wherever I wanna put it without any resistance. Only knowing the sensation of my dick." There was a snort that came with the handler's tone.

"It does that already."

"Would you just shut up and let me fantasize?"

"Water." The hoarse whisper emerged from the darkened corner like a ghost's breath, causing your ears to prick instinctively, several seconds of deafening silence followed. The thunderous beating of your own heart became the only sound you could perceive, its rhythm faltering as your mind processed wat he said.

"W-Water?" The word tumbled uncertainly from your lips.

He had finally spoken English again, after all this time. it felt like forever since the words 'I'm cold' were uttered past his pink lips.

A barely perceptible movement caught your eye - a slight nod from within the shadows. That tiny gesture spurred you into immediate action. Such a simple request - water - easy, you could do that. Your feet carried you through the space as you hurried to fetch a glass of water, returning to the closet with careful but urgent steps.

Your hands trembled slightly from anticipation, you extended the glass toward the darkness. "Here, here...some water..." your voice softened instinctively, knowing that speaking like this got much better results.

He brought the glass shakily to his parched lips, gulping down the entire contents within just a few desperate swallows, his throat working rapidly as he drank. He must've been so thirsty, your heart ached at the thought of him huddled alone in this dark corner for days, too terrified of fictional consequences to venture out for water for himself. His poor, trembling fingers nearly dropped the glass, Soldat slowly set the now-empty glass down beside him on the floor, his hand lingering on the smooth surface as if reluctant to completely break contact with it.

"Спасибо [Thank you]," he muttered quietly, his voice characteristically rough, before quickly following it up with careful deliberation. "T-thank...you," he corrected himself, the English words coming out hesitantly. His brow furrowed deeply in concentration, voice wavering as if he were struggling to recall a language that had once been familiar but now felt foreign on his tongue. His eyes, still somewhat glossy, slowly traced across the intricate patterning of the carpet beneath him, studying the tiny decorative curls and swirls woven into the fabric as if seeing them properly for the very first time.

There was a heavy pause of silence before he finally summoned the courage to lift his gaze to meet yours. "I'm...sorry...for what I did ," Soldat whispered, swallowing hard as his fingers unconsciously tightened around the empty glass he still held. "Didn't mean to...gag like that. Мне жаль [I'm sorry]," he added, the Russian flowing more naturally from his lips than the halting English.

You carefully moved closer, a smile tugging at your lips. His vocabulary and sentence structure was a bit shaky, but it was much better than trying to decipher what he was saying in Russian. "It's okay, I'm not angry or upset about anything..."

You observed his initial tension at your careful approach, watching as the rigidity in his shoulders and back gradually melted away in response to your gentle reassurance. "Why did you...uh...why did you gag like that? If eggs aren't something you enjoy eating, I can definitely make something else for you-"

He responded with a quick, almost urgent shake of his head, drawing his knees even closer to his chest in a protective gesture that made him appear smaller. He took several deep breaths, steadying himself. "...not that. Like eggs. Just...handler."

The look in his eye flashed with pain, not just emotional, but deeply physical - causing him to wince visibly and shift his posture in an attempt to find a more comfortable sitting position.

"Your handler...?" You asked in a gentle, understanding tone, your voice barely above a whisper, "I'm guessing he was mean...right?" You shifted slightly closer, offering silent support through your presence while being mindful not to overwhelm him. You maintained a respectful distance between yourself and him, ensuring there was enough space that he wouldn't feel trapped or cornered in this vulnerable moment.

Your knowledge of HYDRA was limited, despite your best efforts to uncover more information in order to help Soldat. The released documents were protected by layers upon layers of sophisticated encryption protocols, and while you managed to decrypt some of the less secure files through persistent effort and technical skill, many of the more crucial documents remained inaccessible. The encryption methods grew progressively more complex, utilizing advanced algorithms and security measures that were beyond your current capabilities.

He nodded hesitantly, his movements uncertain as he spoke, "Да - yes," he corrected himself immediately, clearly frustrated with his linguistic slip. "I'm...sorry. English only. I will do better, I promise. I swear. Я сделаю лучше [I'll do better]." Soldat's panic mounted under the guise of frustration, he began to strike his head lightly with his flesh hand, which was balled into a tight fist, muttering under his breath, "Глупый, глупый, stupid," he stuttered repeatedly, continuing to hit his forehead.

"Hey, no! Stop that-" You quickly intervened, reaching out to grasp his wrist firmly but gently. "You're not stupid. You know, I don’t care what language you decide to speak in…I’m just glad you’re talking.” You paused, releasing his wrist from your grasp. “Even if you chose to remain completely silent - I would still be here, taking care of you. You understand that?"

He raised his eyes to meet yours, his expression one of disbelief, as though the concept of such acceptance was entirely foreign to him.

"And you know what? I can always use a translator if you fall back into Russian, or any other language. God, I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier..." You shook your head in self-directed frustration, communication would have been so much easier during the first few weeks of his stay with you.

"Прекрати, пожалуйста, я больше не буду говорить, обещаю- [Stop it, please, I won't talk anymore, I promise]-" It thrashed desperately against the iron grip of three men, their calloused hands pressing down with merciless force - one keeping its head firmly locked in place while the other two restrained its struggling limbs with practiced efficiency.

The sight of its metal arm - completely severed from the signals its brain desperately sent out commanding it to move - lying uselessly to the side, was a constant psychological reminder of its powerlessness, a deliberate tactic to break its spirit and resolve. It was one of its handler’s favorite things to do to it.

"You're still talking, so you are lying. Lying is against the rules. Speaking is against the rules. Two of them broken together...you are on quite a roll, aren't you?" Its handler spoke with such a cold tone that it nearly rivaled the cryo-chamber. He turned around slowly to reveal the gleaming metal forceps held in his grasp, the implements catching the harsh light in a way that promised incoming pain.

"What am I going to do with you, soldier? I have to fix that habit of yours...yet another one in a long list of problems we need to address. Your previous handler clearly didn't do an adequate job with your training and discipline. It's obvious from your behavior that proper protocols weren't followed." He moved across the room, almost sauntering, his footsteps echoing in the silence as he used the forceps to pick up something from a nearby furnace.

A hot coal.

A burning hot coal, its bright orange glow cast menacing shadows across the damp walls of the dark underground room of the base, the heat radiating intensely from its surface. "Now...this will do the trick. This should help correct your behavioral issues quite effectively."

It struggled desperately with three limbs, muscles straining and trembling with exhaustion as it tried to break free from the iron grip that held it down. But despite its efforts, it was ultimately pointless.

Mouth wrenched open with dirty fingers, its handler's face twisted into a malicious grin that would be forever seared into its memory as he, almost theatrically, suspended the glowing coal above for the asset to see before letting it drop onto its exposed tongue.

The burning coal made contact, searing into the soft flesh instantly like concentrated acid eating through defenseless metal. The pain was beyond excruciating, radiating through its entire mouth with white-hot intensity. Before it could even attempt to spit out the burning coal, the men holding it clamped its jaws shut with brutal force and covered it, leaving it with no means of escape the scorching pain the coal caused it.

The poor asset’s muffled cries of agony echoed pathetically against the hand pressed firmly over its mouth, each desperate whimper and whine sounded musical to its suffering. Its body convulsed and writhed with increasingly frantic energy, brain not sure what to do or how to react, but the men held it firmly.

"It's not coming out until I can hold it in the palm of my hand without pain." Its handler spoke in an unsettlingly calm tone, his voice steady and methodical despite the glowing coal that was actively searing the inside of its mouth, destroying sensitive tissue and gradually killing its tongue with each passing second.

Minutes crawled by, the man maintaining his iron grip on its mouth shifted his position slightly before looking up at the handler, his expression tense. "It's still hot, I can feel the heat radiating through my hand even now."

Its handler hummed thoughtfully, observing as the asset continued to writhe and struggle with diminishing strength against their hold. He released a long, impatient sigh, fully aware that a coal of this size could potentially take hours to cool to a safe temperature for him to touch it again.

The handler had a busy schedule ahead - this delay was becoming increasingly inconvenient. "Fine. Swallow it."

The asset's entire body went rigid at the command, its large blue eyes widening with terror as they sought out its handler's face, silently pleading for mercy or reconsideration of the order. But the handler's expression remained impassive, unmoved. "Swallow it, or I'll add a second coal somewhere else."

The threat hung heavy in the air, carrying the weight of countless previous punishments that proved such warnings were never idle. The mere thought of enduring such intense agony in an even more sensitive area sent waves of panic through its body. The daily torments were already more than it could bear.

It had visible difficulty and several failed attempts that nearly resulted in choking, but it finally managed to force the coal down its tight throat. The searing pain traced a path of fire through its esophagus before settling into its stomach like a burning ember. The only small mercy was that the powerful stomach acid somewhat dulled the intensity of the burn. It knew the coal was an indigestible object, it would either be passed naturally or extracted through surgical intervention later.

When the man finally released his grip, the asset gasped desperately for air. As its charred mouth opened, the acrid stench of scorched flesh and metallic blood permeated the room, causing even the hardened men present to recoil in revulsion.

"Consider your maintenance complete. Do not speak out of line again."

"I need maintenance..." He muttered under his breath, his voice wavering with exhaustion and defeat, barely above a whisper. His shoulders slumped forward as the words escaped his lips, the weight of his mental fatigue evident in every subtle movement. You sighed deeply, observing how his eyes had dulled back down to how they were before, how the weariness seemed to seep from every part of him.

The desire to ask more questions gnawed at you, but wisdom held your tongue - pressing him now could potentially trigger him to lash out or, worse still, cause him to retreat further into himself and undo all the progress you currently had. Instead, you reached behind you and toward the plate of toast resting nearby, picking it up and turning to face him again.

"Here. Your maintenance then..." You extended it to him with a soft, encouraging gesture. "First thing's first...you must eat. We can work on the rest later...for now, just eat."

Several seconds went by before he took the plate from you and began to eat.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

Taglist: @millercontracting | @teafangirl | @questionableratatouille00 | @buckybarneswife125 | @hazydespair | @leighta | @knoxic | @ghostlyfleur | @beckies000 | @seventeen-x | @freyjhasdesiredreality | @curlycow01 | @blackstabbath6 | @devilslittlehelper | @regics | @honeybee-hayes | @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger | @gabriella-aesthetic | @sapphirebarnes | @animechick555 | @chimchoom | @regics | @frombkjar

Let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded anytime.

[consumed-by-the-void]

Yeah, I can say on a personal note that I used to take 1800mg of Ibuprofen daily for like a month or two, and I was fine (in combination with 2000mg Metamizole, I had absolutely terrible back pain), all of which prescribed by my doctor and together with stomach protection, and I didn't end up running into any bleeding or vomiting blood. The only time I did that was before I talked to my doctor, when I took 3200mg Ibuprofen and 4000mg Acetaminophen in a single day, and I'm pretty sure that was actually just some blood from my esophagus because vomited too hard or something. I did later run into some bleeding issues with the combination of 2000+mg of Ibuprofen and Escitalopram, but that was actually my ass sometimes losing a few drops of blood, so I do unfortunately have to be a little more careful in that regard now.

But yeah, common painkillers are pretty safe in their recommended dosages, and even if you go beyond that it usually takes a while to develop issues, but if those aren't enough, you really should talk to your doctor

Every time I see another ibuprofen post on this site I'm like STOP

STOP

Stop.

Take that after a meal. Take it with a big glass of water. Don't take it on an empty stomach EVER. Don't take it with alcohol. You will destroy your stomach. You will end up with an ulcer. You will vomit blood. I'm not exaggerating.

Yes, you. Yes, it will happen to cute little you. With your cute little bottle of miracles. Ibuprofen really does that to your body.

Love, an adult person over 35 who can't take NSAIDs anymore

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?

leclerc brothers x male!fashion designer!brother!reader (lewis hamilton x male!reader)

request: Okay so leclerc male reader who's lorenzo's twin brother that got a job as soon as he could so that he could support arthurs career when his parents could only focus on one child, meets lewis hamilton at some point at a charity event after his business has really taken off and they get to talking and going on dates before the media finds out their meeting at cafes via blury photo and start thinking that their partnering to release a new clothing line or charity they thought up together before they find them again via another blury photo that shows them kissing and the media just goes wild, Arthur had already suspected, Charles is kinda hurt you didn't tell him and Lorenzo is all like 'good for him' so yeah dont know if you'll actually write this seeing as this isn't like the things i've seen you post before. –🍑

summary: the leclerc brothers find out about your secret boyfriend—at the same time everyone else does

warnings: reader + lewis are outed by a gossip page, charles is not happy that reader didn't tell him, very brief mention of climate change, mild stalker/loser!lewis, very very mild online hate, minor allusions to brocedes + sebcedes, charles bullying lewis at the end, half-written / half-smau!!

as much as your maman and papa tried to hide it from you, you still noticed the signs when they started struggling for money. having two kids in karting was expensive. you knew that even at the ripe age of fifteen. arthur, your baby brother, had just started karting. you knew your parents would have to stop one of them, and they'd almost certainly choose him.

so you took it upon yourself to make sure arthur could continue.

at first it was just odd jobs around the neighbourhood—changing light bulbs, walking dogs, unclogging shower drains ... all the little things people didn't really want to do themselves and didn't want to pay a professional a high rate for.

when you turned sixteen, you dropped out of school. without telling your parents. they weren't happy at first, but once you got a job at a local mid-size fashion label as the ceo's assistant ... well, it was difficult to be mad at you when you were clearly capable of making the decision for yourself.

the business itself wasn't terrible. the ceo was just incompetent. you ended up doing most of his work to keep the company running. after your eighteenth birthday, you quit and started your own career as a fashion designer specializing in sustainable clothing. your eye for detail and obvious work ethic, along with a bit of luck, skyrocketed you into being one of the most well-known brands on the globe. you had your fair share of people saying you had no idea what you were doing. mostly because you remained committed to the ideal of sustainable fashion no matter how big your company became.

the first decade was exciting and fast-paced. every year you became more of a household name. every year you made at least a bit of a difference in the fight against climate change.

your company officially sponsored arthur's career. charles was a very enthusiastic ambassador. lorenzo's business was heavily linked with yours. it was good. even after your papa died, your business allowed you to look after your maman. no matter how much she tried to refuse your help.

as you approached your thirtieth birthday, you began thinking about settling down. your maman knew you were attracted to men. you hadn't told your brothers yet. another week passes. another charity event on the books.

how were you to know it would change everything?

lewis had been following you since your sophomore line was released.

he admired your commitment to your values. you could've made a lot more money if you'd abandoned sustainability and mass-produced. you didn't let the endless questions and critic faze you. in that way, you almost felt like a kindred spirit.

and, yes—maybe the fact that you were really cute played a little factor in his interest.

it had taken lewis years to work up the nerve to ask his agent to get him on the list for one of your company's charity events. he didn't even know if you'd be there. he just knew it was probably his best chance at 'casually' running into you. he'd tried a few times at the monaco grand prix every year, but no dice.

finally, he got an invitation to one of your events.

lewis would take it to his grave that he'd called sebastian vettel in a panic immediately afterwards because he didn't know what to wear.

as stressful (and embarrassing) as the lead-up had been, he wouldn't trade any of it when your eyes locked on his and you visibly checked him out. his heart beat loud and fast in his ears. he was a formula one driver, and yet that may have been the most intense experience he'd ever had.

for six years after your little meet-cute, you and lewis managed to keep your meeting and subsequent relationship secret.

it was easy, really. you both lived in monaco. as long as you were careful, nobody suspected anything. of course, your mother knew, but only because she'd seen lewis leaving your apartment one mornings with hickeys all over his neck and a slight limp. you hadn't been able to look her in the eye for a whole week.

everything was good.

with lewis moving to ferrari, you knew it was time to tell your brothers. you just wanted to drop a few hints first to see how open they were to the idea.

lewishamilton has posted a story!

written: youruser after telling a bad joke

                replies

user1 excuse me?? sir???

user2 is this a hard launch?

youruser it was not a bad joke!!!

lewishamilton yes it was x

youruser you just have a bad sense of humour x

charles_leclerc how do you know my brother?

lewishamilton we met at a charity event a few years ago!

charles_leclerc okay ...

arthur_leclerc 🤨

youruser has posted a story!

written: lewishamilton 5 hours after telling me it'd be a quick chat 🙄

                replies

user3 i can't tell if this is a soft launch or a business meeting

leclerc_pascale hope you had fun, mon chou x

youruser i did! thank you, maman x

coworker oh i see why he's your favourite client now

lorenzo_tl tell him hi from your favourite twin brother

youruser you're my only twin brother

lorenzo_tl and so i must be the favourite!

youruser and the least favourite

lorenzo_tl rude

charles_leclerc are you and lewis working on something together?

youruser why?

charles_leclerc i just don't understand why you're hanging out with him all of a sudden

youruser we're friends. he's been to a few of my company's charity events.

arthur_leclerc 🤨

youruser may i help you

arthur_leclerc non, i am just observing

youruser you're observing very loudly

arthur_leclerc 😁

user4 omg i didn't know there was a fourth leclerc brother!

your brothers were nothing if not predictable.

arthur, despite you contributing a not-insignificant sum to his career, was just as smug and nosy as any other little brother. he was making his suspicions about you and lewis very well known to the both of you. you loved him, but arthur was physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut.

lorenzo either didn't care or he was beyond oblivious. but he was your twin brother, so you were going to assume he just didn't care that you were gay.

charles was ... well, he was charles. somehow oblivious and suspicious at the same time. he'd seemed quite off put by you and lewis spending time together publicly, but he hadn't ever questioned your line of working on a project together.

everything was good.

until it wasn't.

f1gossip

liked by pierregasly and 8,871,829 others

f1gossip 7x WDC LEWIS HAMILTON SECRETLY GAY???

leaked photos have emerged of the mercedes driver being quite intimate with future teammate charles leclerc's older brother!

what do you think of this?

tagged lewishamilton, youruser

                comments

user5 OMG

user6 WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS??

user7 i think this is a massive invasion of their privacy! liked by lorenzo_tl, valtteribottas, and others

user8 gross

user9 lewis could do better

user10 Y/N could do better tf

user11 or, hear me out, they're happy with each other? why is your instinct to hate other peoples happiness? liked by lewishamilton, youruser, and others

charles_leclerc WHAT

user12 something tells me charles didn't know

user13 you don't say

"lew, baby?" you called out, a little stressed.

you were still in bed. lewis got up at an ungodly hour to train, so you usually woke up to an empty bed. it didn't bother you. you knew he always came home. though, you always insisted on lewis waking you up before he left for a grand prix. just for the peace of mind.

"you're awake," lewis greeted, flopping down on the bed beside you. "sleep well?"

you hummed, pressing a kiss to his forehead briefly before turning your phone screen to face him. "yeah, until this."

"oh."

"yeah."

lewis sighed, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. "and your brothers?"

"arthur and lorenzo seem pretty chill," you murmured. "charles, on the other hand ..."

*incoming audio call*

charles: why didn't you tell me?

you: i meant to, charles, it ... it came out before i was ready

charles: oh.

you: look, lewis and i met at an event in 2018. i didn't lie about that.

charles: the way you phrased that makes it sound like you lied about something else.

you: ... we got together in 2021.

charles: that's three years ago! why didn't you tell me, y/n?

you: at the time, i figured lewis was only ever going to be your rival on track and i didn't want you to get mad at me for befriending your competition.

charles: then why didn't you tell me when it was announced that he was coming to ferrari?

you: i was trying to! lew and i started dropping hints right after the news got leaked.

charles: why not just say it?

you: i didn't know how you'd react.

charles: right.

charles: did anyone else know?

you: only maman. and maybe lorenzo, but i didn't tell him.

charles: you promise i wasn't the only one?

you: yes, charles.

charles: okay ... so you'll bring roscoe for a playdate with leo, yes?

you laughed. how could you not?

one second your brother was angry and hurt, the next he was planning a way for his puppy to meet your boyfriend's dog.

you: i'll see what i can do.

youruser

liked by georgerussell63, nicorosberg, and 4,568,192 others

youruser boyfriend ❤️

tagged: lewishamilton

                comments

user14 lewy/n confirmation?????

user15 babe there are literally photos of them kissing??

user14 user15 WHAT?!?!?!!!!?!??

user16 lmao at nico in the likes liked by youruser

user17 i can't tell if he'd be happy that lewis is y/n's problem now or if he's bitter that y/n stole his wife

youruser lewishamilton you did not tell me you were married? liked by sebastianvettel, nicorosberg, and others

lewishamilton youruser 😐😑😐

youruser lewishamilton 😁❤️

lewishamilton boyfriend ❤️

youruser love you baby x

user18 crying they're so cute 😭

user19 they're already at the l word?? how long have they been together??

user20 "thank you y/n for the boyfriend!lewis content" we all say

oscarpiastri does this mean i have another ... uncle?

charles_leclerc more like GRANDPA

lewishamilton charles_leclerc i am literally only 12 years older than you??

charles_leclerc you practically cradle-robbed my brother!!!!

youruser charles_leclerc charles i'm closer in age to lewis than i am to you? and we met when i was 30?

oscarpiastri ...

scuderiaferrari taking the leclerc-hamilton pairing to a whole new level 💪

charles_leclerc youruser you cannot become a hamilton

youruser charles_leclerc i don't think that's really your decision??

lewishamilton youruser does this mean i can take your last name?

youruser lewishamilton i mean yeah if you wanna

charles_leclerc wait no

©koalapastries :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: i tweaked this slightly because it was hard to find gay cafe date-esque photos, but otherwise i think it works!

comments + reblogs appreciated!

credits: @/cafekitsune for the dividers!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @ncrsbrg @miloformula123fanf1

[star-sim]

show me how ☆ jake sim

☆ non-idol! jake x fem! reader ☆ summary: jake didn't think his casual crush on you, his hot coworker at the local ice cream parlor, would flourish into anything. but one day, after a power outage during a shift, the two of you are forced to huddle up together to keep warm, opening up many, many, many doors into your relationship. ice cream was sweet and soft. and despite your appearance, so were you. ☆ genre: coworkers to lovers, fluff, a lot of bickering, alternative! reader, jake is kind of a loser, rock references, nonchalant crushes, summer romance, baddie reader, JAKE IS JUST REALLY DOWN BAD ☆ warning(s)? slightly suggestive? just tbh its js jake being really attracted to you LOL ☆ word count: 12.3k ☆ joining @bywons 1k event for "show me how" by men i trust. i had a little bit of a different approach to crushes this time. this is extremely late im so sorry enjoy!

"Can I get uhhhhh…"

Jake deadpanned for the 15th time in the past hour.

He was trying to be kind, to be understanding, to be loving in all ways possible… He really was.

But was it that difficult to order a mint chocolate cone with rainbow sprinkles?!

Jake watched as the snotty child before him picked his nose, his eyes glazing over the menu. It’s been ten minutes and this kid was taking too long to order. For fuck’s sake, he was holding up the line!

For his summer job, Jake started working at the ice cream parlor near the pier. He thought it was a good idea, since the pay was above minimum wage and he liked ice cream.

Wrong!

It was horrible!

From rude customers to his asshole of a boss to his incompetent coworkers, Jake dreaded coming into work everyday.

It was another summer afternoon, where Jake slaved away for his corporate overlords. Summer was only kicking off, so the June gloom stuck like glue. This morning, there were already storm warnings, so imagine Jake's surprise when a whole bunch of people went to the beach today and the ice cream parlor next to it.

"Please take your time," Jake said with a tight-lipped smile. Translation: I’ve given you enough time, kid. Hurry up and order or I’ll actually snap.

The kid blinked at Jake, before picking his nose. "Can I get uhhhh…"

Jake winced, but forced a smile with a nod. "Would you like any recommendations?"

Translation: You better tip me, you little punk.

By now, he could see the angry mothers and kids at the back of the line, quietly complaining about the hold-up. All Jake could do was smile apologetically, hanging his head in embarrassment.

And to Jake's horror, as the snotty little kid was still deciding on what he wanted to order, Jake could hear the back door creaking open, followed by a "Bye, Jake!" before it slammed.

Did Jake ever say that he hated his coworkers?

Today wasn't even Jake's shift, but he had to cover three shifts, because his other coworkers couldn't give a damn. They loved to leave early because they knew that Jake would work his ass off either way. So here he was, now forced to run an entire ice cream parlor with already angry customers all by himself!

"Actually, I don't want anything," the snotty kid blinked at Jake. "Bye, mister."

With that, the kid left, oblivious to Jake's gawking face.

You've got to be kidding me.

If it weren't for the fact that his name tag had his name printed in big, thick letters and that there was already a line of impatient customers, Jake might have yelled.

As he put on his customer-service voice for the next customer in line, Jake could hear the back door creak open again if he listened past the generic pop music playing in the background.

And the moment that he heard a familiar voice, Jake nearly ascended into the sky.

"Jake, I'm here!"

There was only one part of working at this dinky little ice cream parlor that Jake liked.

And it was you.

His savior, you.

You were the only coworker that actually did your work. In fact, you went above and beyond. The only shifts that seemed to be productive on all ends were when it was you and Jake.

If he could recall correctly, today wasn't your scheduled shift either. You were probably covering someone's shift like him, too.

And plus, you were cute.

Really cute.

Jake never really thought he had a "type" when it came to girls. In fact, Jake couldn't even remember the last time he had a crush. But the moment he saw your smudged eyeliner, constant annoyed look, the multiple tassel and charm bracelets on your wrists, and your black nail polish, he knew that you were his type.

You looked like you could probably scare a baby with a single look. Honestly, you could make Jake piss himself with a single look, too. And for some reason, he liked it. A lot. Which was weird.

Within seconds of just arriving, you were already throwing on your apron, fixing up your work uniform before appearing at the counter, ready to do your fucking job.

Jake tried his best to focus on the group of middle schoolers who giggled over every word as they ordered their ice cream, but even from behind him, he could hear you cleaning one of the scoopers and getting the keys for the second cash register. Even though all you were doing was your job, Jake couldn't help but straighten up his posture and run a hand through his hair as you took the register beside him. Just in case you spared him a glance, he had to look his best.

"Hi, what can I get you?" you said chirpily, putting on your best customer-service voice, something that Jake could tell was not your forte. Although he didn't know you seriously, he's had conversations in passing with you, whether it be on slow days, during breaks, or as the two of you closed up the parlor together. You never sounded as enthusiastic as you did now, as you happily helped an old lady pick her order.

You were cool like that.

Actually, really cool.

Jake couldn't think of anyone cooler than you.

And you were pretty, and hardworking, and honest, and responsible, and cooperative, and a little bit scary, but that was hot. You were also very kind to customers, and even though Jake could see your lips— which were nice, by the way— twitch, he could tell that you were trying your best, which was good, and—

"Um, sir, can I order now?"

Jake snapped out of his daze, tearing his eyes away from you.

"R-Right!"

Completely missing the way you rolled your eyes at him, though without a little chuckle.

It wasn't always easy being the only competent worker at the parlor. While it meant you got paid more for covering so many shifts, you couldn't say it was fun working the late shifts.

The parlor closed at 11PM on weekdays, so here you were, working late into the night. 

You yawned as you rang up the last customer of the night, using all of your last bits of strength to muster a smile, before saying, "Have a good night!"

As the door slammed shut, the building winds outside providing more than enough force to ring through the entire parlor, you let out a sigh.

"They're gone, Jake," you called.

From inside the break room, you could hear Jake groan something muffled but definitely, "Finally."

Jake Sim was the only coworker you could rely on. He was the only person your age, both of you were freshly graduated highschoolers working to prepare for college experiences. Despite his party-boy look, he was surprisingly diligent. You definitely noticed how he ended up picking up another person's shift, just like you. Unlike everyone else, he actually gave a damn, which you could appreciate.

Tonight was no different from any other.

It was just Jake and you, working the closing shift together.

The moment you entered the break room, you let out an exasperated sigh, leaning on the door frame. Jake, too, was slumped over on the table, his face buried in his arms.

Your shitty coworkers always tried to convince you that you should be happy to work extra shifts: extra pay, more work experience, have a good rep with the boss.

But what they didn't mention was how absolutely draining it was to work 7 hours straight in a short-staffed busy ice cream parlor.

"Why were there so many people?" Jake groaned, shoving his face deeper into his arms. If you weren't exhausted out of your mind, you would've thought the scene before you was a funny sight. Jake, in his silly white uniform designed to look like that of a sailor's and crooked worker hat, practically melting on the break room table.

"And why were there only two of us?" you added, letting your eyelids fall shut as you leaned against the door frame.

Though, you would say, you did like working for one extra reason: Jake Sim himself.

He was as cute as a button, and pretty easy to talk to.

Jake lifted his head, quickly checking his phone.

"No seriously," he rested his face on his fist. "It was cold and dreary all day— and wasn't there a storm warning?— Why would anyone want to get ice cream on a day like this?"

You shrugged. "Beats me."

The two of you stayed in the break room in silence for a few more moments, catching your breaths after a long day. "Let's get outta here, Jake."

Here was your favorite part of the work day: closing up. Not just because it meant that you got to leave, but you could do whatever you wanted.

Jake locked up the front door and flipped the sign, while you locked up front displays and cash registers. The two of you tidied up the breakroom (which was empty because your slobs of coworkers weren't here), before pulling out the mops and cleaning up the floor.

This was the fun part.

"Hey!" Jake cried as you splashed water onto the floor, your wet mop sludging up the water as it moved against the checkered floor. Looks like some of the water got onto his pants. "What was that for?"

You shrugged, with a sly grin. "No reason in particular— Hey!"

Jake shook off the excess water on his mop, pointed directly at you, the water droplets spraying all over your shirt.

"See?" he pointed to the wet drops on your shirt. "We're even now."

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was being playful.

It was fun now because this was the time that you could play whatever music you wanted. Your manager always insisted that you'd play generic pop music during store hours, but now that it was closed, you could play any music you wanted. And it was great, because you and Jake had the same music taste.

"Really?" you whipped your head over to Jake as he passed your phone, which controlled the sound system, back to you. "Bon Jovi?"

You winced as loud vocals, strong guitar riffs, and a drum louder than you could imagine blasted through the speakers.

"Bon Jovi is good!" Jake shouted all the way from the freezers.

Maybe your taste was just a little bit different.

Jake was a cool guy. He really was. Very personable and someone that you could have fun with, even if you weren't that close to him. But sometimes his music choices were too much.

"You have no reason to be blasting hard rock at 11PM," you murmured.

"I heard that!"

You stifled a chuckle.

As you cleaned the floors, you nodded your head to the music. You could hear humming along wherever he was. It was all quiet, only the sound of mops, the freezers' buzzing, and your queued music playing in the background. It was small moments like his that made you want to keep working (other than the pay).

And plus, the parlor was very close to the beach.

At times like this, you could hear seagulls squawking overhead, with waves crashing against the shoreline.

Which... now that you thought about it...

Why couldn't you hear any of that?

Usually, even if Jake was blasting the hardest rock, you could still hear the sounds of the sea.

But now, all you heard was wind.

You glanced out the window.

Palm trees blew against the night sky. Wind whirled, creating a howling sound.

And before you could think anything of it, you heard two things: the back door slamming, and the sound of electricity buzzing.

One moment you could see everything, and the next moment it was completely dark.

Your blood ran cold.

The music stopped. The buzzing of the freezers stopped, too. It was completely dark, so dark that you couldn't even see your own hands, save for the single stream of moonlight leaking through the front windows.

You would consider yourself a calm person, you really would.

But in that moment, you felt panic set in.

Because here you were, working a late shift in a tiny little ice cream parlor in the middle of the beach, with no one but your teenage coworker. And now all the power went out.

And because you were afraid of the dark.

The mop in your hand dropped, clunking! against the checkered flooring.

Your heart pounded, so loud that you could hear it in your ears. You could feel it jumping out of your chest.

"J-Jake?" you called out.

No response.

Your mind did wonders to scare you, and now it was working over time.

What happened to Jake? Did he disappear with the lights too? You dug your teeth into your bottom lip.

Were you all alone in the dark? Just you and this dark abyss, a dark abyss so suffocating yet so cold that you couldn't even tell if you were standing or curled up. By this time, your legs were feeling weak, so you wouldn't be surprised if you were on the floor, your knees to your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

The howling of the wind sent chills down your spine. Realistically, nothing could get you. You were just at work, like always, but it was just dark. But you felt like something would jump out at you, something scary and from your worst nightmares. It would get you, maybe hurt you. Were you going to die? Why did you feel so alone? What happened to everyone? What happened to Jake—

"[Name]?"

At the sound of a familiar voice, your eyes shot open.

But instead of being met with a pure, unknown darkness, you were met with a tall figure before you, completely shrouded in darkness, save for the stream of yellow light coming to illuminate its face.

Terrifying.

You let out a shriek as you jumped back.

What the hell was that? Was that what got Jake?—

It took a step forward, and before you could scream again—

"[Name]!" it was Jake's voice. He reached out for you, his hand resting on your shoulder. "It's me, Jake!"

You heard a bit of clicking, and it was then that you realized that the scary figure that you saw was just Jake with a flashlight. You relaxed.

"You okay?" Jake crouched down to your curled up figure, the yellow light of the flashlight glimmering against the floor. Although your eyes had slightly adjusted to the darkness, you could see your hands now. "I think the power went out."

You nodded slowly, still with your knees against your chest. Your heart was still pounding in your chest. You felt Jake's hand reach out for yours, interlocking fingers before giving it a squeeze.

Boom!

You jumped away from Jake, a small "eep!" escaping your lips.

Jake flinched, pointing the flashlight at the front windows.

"Thunder," he muttered under his breath. Although all the streetlights and signs had shut down too, he could see the lightning as it struck in the night sky.

He glanced at your startled form.

"Damnit," he cursed under his breath. "There was a storm warning earlier."

You hid your face in your palms.

This was everything that you didn't want to happen.

It was completely dark, and here you were practically trapped inside. It was impossible to get home, because the roads were all dark, and there was probably an oncoming storm, too. It was cold, and it was just you and your coworker. You just wanted to go home!

Although he couldn't see your face, Jake could sense your uneasiness. 

"C'mon," he tugged at your hand. "Let's go to the back."

Although Jake bumped into a few tables and counters on the way to the break room, he didn't mind. After all, there was you, who was clearly startled. He'd rather get a bruise on his hip than you.

He could hear your breath hitching, small whimpers of fear tumbling out as he led you through the dark abyss. Jake had to admit, it was much scarier when it was completely dark than when it wasn't.

The breakroom wasn't much better than in the middle of the floor, but at least there were chairs. Not that it mattered.

You and Jake decided to sit under the break table, shoulder to shoulder with the flashlight between you.

It was silent. You couldn't see Jake, but the feeling of him next to you relieved only some of your anxiety.

The flashlight only illuminated enough for you to see a few feet around you. Otherwise, everything else was a dark, bottomless void.

You knew it was illogical and practically impossible for something else to be lurking. But as minutes passed in silence, the thought of something—or someone— prowling in the dark and ready to jump out at you gnawed at you more and more. Goosebumps rose along your arms, the hair on your neck standing.

"I'm scared, Jake," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I'm so scared."

Thunder boomed in the air, lightning crackled, while heavy rain began to shower down. You jumped at the sound, your hands immediately shooting to grab Jake's arm and leaning into his touch. You squeezed your eyes shut, a scared squeak escaping your lips.

"I'm scared!" you squealed.

Jake's brows furrowed, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"Hey," he said into your ear, watching as you curled up against him, clutching his arm tight. "Hey, I got you."

Your hold on him only tightened as another round of thunder boomed through the night. "Open your eyes, [Name]. It's okay."

You shook your head profusely, your face pressed into his shoulder.

"Nothing's gonna get ya," he whispered, slowly rubbing circles on your back. "You're okay."

You shook your head again.

"It's so dark," you peeped. "Too dark."

"It's okay," Jake's voice was soft, soft as a cloud as he comforted you. "I'm here. I got you."

You nodded into his shoulder, but you kept your face pressed against it, not letting up.

Jake watched you, both with a soft heart and with wide eyes.

He wouldn't say he knew you too well. Even so, he'd spent a lot of time with you this summer so far, he had a few good memories with you. You were always so... cool.

Always on-task, always ready to fight a rude customer, always ready to speak up if you thought something was wrong.

It was weird. Seeing someone that Jake had always seen as a pillar of support one way or another completely drop that image of strength was… something that he never expected.

Here you were, so vulnerable in his arms.

Jake would have never expected you to be afraid of the dark, let alone some thunder, but he didn't mind. Even with your eyes closed, and even with his arms wrapped around you, you still jolted at each crackle in the sky.

If only he could do something to help you...

Jake let out an 'ah' sound.

He leaned into your ear, whispering right against the shell of your ear, "I'll be right back."

You let out another squeak as you felt Jake slipping away from you, yet he didn't take the flashlight with him.

"J-Jake—!"

"I'm still here," he said, yet you heard as he took a few steps. He was rummaging through his bag. He tried his best to feel for what he was looking for: a small, square case. "I'm with you, don't worry."

And as quick as he left your side he was back. Jake slithered his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Your eyes widened a fraction as Jake fished for his phone from his back pocket.

"What were you—" you furrowed your brows— "Why’d you get up?"

You could feel Jake turn his head to look at you, and you could hear him grin.

"To get this." In his palm, Jake revealed a small, square case. His earbuds.

You blinked. "W-Why?"

"Don't worry about it." You watched confused as Jake took his earbuds out, jabbing it into the headphone port of his phone. Then, he handed you both of the ears.

"For you," he said simply.

As you were about to object, lightning striked again in the sky, yet another squeal coming from you.

You took his earbuds, jamming them into your ear.

Jake pressed the first song in his playlist.

And if you weren't scared out of your mind right now, you would have yelled at him.

Because really?

Bon Jovi?

At a time like this?

The music was loud enough that you could be distracted, but quiet enough that you could still hear Jake's voice. And when Jake noticed that you were relaxed enough, he opened his mouth.

"I'm surprised you didn't want to rip out my earbuds the moment you heard Bon Jovi," he said.

You elbowed him, yet you were still clinging onto him for dear life.

"Read the room, man," you muttered. "I'm scared shitless."

Jake laughed, and you rolled your eyes again. "This is the only time that I'll willingly listen to Bon Jovi."

"Hey!" Jake cried. "Bon Jovi is a good band."

You shot him a look. "Play some Pink Floyd, something."

You cursed Jake. Of course he'd let you listen to his music, because he got to control it!

"Nah," Jake said. "Bon Jovi is perfect for rainy nights."

You scoffed. "In what world?"

You could hear him grin again. "In my world."

What a loser.

You could see his phone screen light up, probably texts from his parents, but he ignored it. Jake’s phone was on the floor on the other side of him, the side that you were not on.

“Are you sure you won’t play Pink Floyd?” you asked slowly.

“Nope.”

Extreme times call for extreme measures.

Your arm reached across Jake’s lap, jerking to take his phone.

“Hey!” Jake yelped, squirming away from you in a way that blocked your hand from reaching his phone. “What the hell are you—“

“I’m changing the song!”

The two of you struggled like that for a few more moments, and then the next thing you knew you were on Jake’s lap, your arms pinned above your head.

“Let go of me!” you writhed, the earbuds in your eyes still blasting the hardest rock you’ve ever heard. Although you managed to take Jake’s phone, there wasn’t much you could do if he was pinning your hands above you.

“Then give me my phone back,” Jake ignored your struggling.

“Then change the song!”

“No!”

You huffed, continuing your attempt to wriggle out of Jake’s hold, but alas, he was stronger than you. “How are you so strong—“

Boom! Crackle! Thunder and lightning struck.

“Eep!” Immediately, you collapsed onto Jake’s chest, pressing your face into his shirt. You clung onto him, squeezing your eyes shut. When you could feel his chest rumble with a few chuckles, you punched his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

Jake chuckled again, but he only pulled you in closer by the waist, allowing you to cling to him more comfortably.

As the storm raged on, any hope that the power would be back up was lost. Jake's phone still had service, but you could tell he was being polite and not going on his phone to not make you feel alienated. Your phone was somewhere in the front, probably on a counter or something.

"We really shouldn't have agreed to cover shifts today," you murmured, your cheek pressed against Jake's chest.

Jake hummed.

He wanted to get past the way that anytime you spoke to Jake, it was either about music or work. He didn't mind talking about these things with you, but he wished he could say more. He wanted to know what you were thinking, and hear about what you liked and disliked, what silly stories or memories you had to tell him.

He wanted to get to know you.

“What’s your favorite color?”

???

"What?"

Jake blinked. "What's your favorite color?"

You stared at him. "Why?"

He shrugged under you. "I dunno. I just wanted to get to know you better."

"Oh." What a simple reason. It made sense for such a simple question. "I like black."

Jake scoffed. "That's not a color."

"Huh? Then what is it?"

"A shade."

"Says who?"

"Says science!"

And then it was quiet again (at least on Jake's part, you were still listening to his music)

But not quite awkward.

Despite the compromising position that you were in, there wasn't any feeling of embarrassment or discomfort.

That's how Jake would describe how he felt toward you. It was an easy thing. You were cool and pretty, and he liked you. Nothing more, nothing less. No games to play, no extra calculations or hours of planning. He liked you, and he was just going to do what felt right. It was as straightforward as that.

"What are you doing after this summer?" you asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

That's right. You and Jake had never discussed much about your personal lives, like where you went to high school, what your plans were post-high school, etc.

And now that the two of you were alone, in the dark, with virtually nothing to do, it was the perfect time to talk about it.

"I'm going up to Santa Barbara," Jake said coolly. "I'm studying biomed engineering."

"Oooh," you mused. "How exciting."

Jake let out a chuckle. "You don't sound excited."

"I am," you deadpanned, and Jake couldn't hold back a laugh.

"What about you?" Jake asked. "What are you doing?"

Even though it was dark, Jake could hear you frown.

"I'm going to Davis for International Business." You paused. "I don't know."

"Whaddaya mean?"

You shrugged. "I dunno if it's really my passion. I just chose it because—"

You're interrupted by a loud bang! followed by buzzing. You jolted, tensing up in Jake's hold, whose hand shot to the small of your back protectively.

"Eek!" you cried, and the next thing you knew, all the lights were back on.

You and Jake stayed where you were for a few moments, long enough for the freezers in the back to start buzzing again. As if someone just snapped their fingers, everything turned back on. The bright lights hitting your darkness-adjusted eyes made your eyes water.

"Oh," Jake said plainly. "The lights are back on."

"No shit, Sherlock," you muttered, earning a pinch to your side. It was now that you and Jake really realized your current positions: you were on top of him, with your head resting on his shoulders, with his arms wrapped around your waist. And it seemed like the two of you realized this at the same time.

"We should—" Jake averted his gaze from you, finding the floor next to him very interesting.

"Yeah, you're right, we should—" you slowly pulled away from him, grimacing at the feeling of Jake's arms slipping away from you.

"Yup, and—" Jake trailed off, not fully completing his thought.

Awkward.

The two of you were back on your feet in no time, both with slightly-disheveled work uniforms, but hey, it was to be expected.

Together, the two of you inspected the parlor. Just in case something slipped in while it was dark (even though that was virtually impossible).

Everything was exactly as you left it.

The mop that you dropped on the floor, your phone on the counter, the keys to the freezer that Jake threw by accident, even the messy chairs.

"Are you scared right now?" Jake asked with a chuckle as you stayed close behind him, your fingers clutching his broad shoulders. From time to time you'd peek around him, but for the most part, you stared straight at his back, unwilling to look ahead. Just in case a monster jumped out!

"I'm not." Lie.

Jake laughed, but before he could poke fun at you more—

Boom!

Oh right, the storm.

Like a cat, you jumped almost immediately, gripping Jake's shoulders for dear life.

Jake peeked out the windows. The streetlamps and signs were illuminated again.

"Looks like all the lights are back up," he said. He glanced over his shoulder to you, who clung to him. "I think we can go home now. The storm's dying down already."

You nodded, and the two of you finished closing up in silence, before preparing to leave.

"Do you have a ride?" Jake asked you as the two of you packed up your things.

Shit.

"My mom was going to pick me up because she didn't want me driving late at night," you groaned. "I'll call her right no—"

"No," Jake shook his head, reaching inside his pocket. You watched as he really shoved his hands in there, like he was searching for something. At last, after digging through his pockets for what felt like hours, he pulled out a bunch of keys, with a tiny lego keychain dangling off of it. "I'll drive you home."

After that day, you weren't called into work again for a few days. In those few days, for some weird reason, you couldn't get Jake off your mind. Which you thought was weird.

You never really thought about Jake aside from work. And it wasn't even the fact that you were thinking about him! It was the fact that you felt weird for feeling weird about thinking about him. If that even made sense.

He's always been cute. Gentlemanly, too.

When he drove you home the other day, he insisted that you didn't need to pay him back for driving you home. In fact, he said that he'd rather use more gas than have you wait alone at the parlor to be picked up. He opened and closed the door for you, showed you how to control the heaters so that you could be warm, and even let you play your music!

He was reliable too, someone that you knew you could count on. And he was very kind, because no matter how many rude customers there were, he understood that everyone was human and served them with a smile. Unlike you, who always exercised that "we reserve to deny you service" right.

These were all things that you knew. It was no surprise. You knew these things.

But after that day, you couldn't help but feel like it was... amplified.

Jake was cute, but now he was cuter. Way cuter.

He felt even more gentlemanly and reliable and kind now. Him going out of his way to comfort you, even if it meant that you had to listen to his god-awful music, warmed your heart.

And that was the weird part.

It was just so odd. You couldn't stop thinking about him. And you felt all weird and mushy for thinking about him, which made you feel even weirder!

You didn't really get it.

Surely, it wasn't a crush.

It wasn't like you were all over the place, distracted and spacy and blushing now that Jake was on your mind. You weren't rolling around and kicking your feet, nor were you giggling.

But you would be lying if you said that the simple thought of his name didn't make you excited.

Meanwhile, Jake knew exactly what was happening to him.

And it was that his crush on you definitely deepened tenfold.

In the moment, when he was with you, whether it be the other day or any other day at all, he was always nonchalant. It was a casual crush, he'd say. Everything was straightforward with no games to play.

But that was a lie.

Because here he was, lying on his bed and staring at his ceiling. He hugged his pillow, embarrassingly pretending that it was you. He felt like a weirdo, but he couldn't get the feeling of you clinging to him and in his arms out of his head!

Just the mere thought of that night made him have to roll around and giggle for a few moments.

Jake sucked in the scent of his pillows. Unfortunately, they didn't smell like you, just like laundry with a faint scent of his own cologne.

You were so pretty, and cool, and kind, and smart, and practical, and just everything good in the world. And then when you got scared and clung to him, it made his heart flutter, because who knew you could be so cute?

Jake let out a squeal into his pillow, his cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling.

For the first time ever, Jake actually wanted to go to work. Just to see you.

He couldn't wait for it.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," you said for the millionth time today. "We don't have that here—"

Another day at work. Just when the idea of going to work didn't sound too bad, you're reminded why you hate it.

Apparently some kids on TikTok spread a rumor that your parlor had a special, limited-edition, summer unicorn flavor. And even worse, your damn social media manager was hinting at it on Instagram, too.

So here you were now, trying to explain to a hoard of angry customers that this limited-edition unicorn flavor was absolutely false. To think that your own social media manager would betray you and your coworkers like this just to attract more customers... You shouldn't be unsurprised but you were.

Diabolical.

It must've been the 90th time in the past hour that you had to explain that you had no fucking clue what a unicorn flavor would be, and if you weren't a tired and overworked teenager, you would've felt bad when a little girl bursted into tears in the middle of the store.

Cry about it, you thought, and you couldn't tell if that sentiment was towards your angry customers, or if it was towards upper management that were about to get multiple complaints about you.

Breathe, you had to tell yourself. It's not worth it. Where was everyone else anyway? You couldn't believe that you were left completely alone to operate the establishment on your own. And most of your coworkers were older than you anyway. Those bums!

You sucked in another breath, putting on your best smile.

"You're telling me that you don't actually have the limited-edition unicorn flavor?!" an angry father crossed his arms, upset with his children cowering beside him.

"No, sir," you said as politely as you could. "That was just a rumor. My apologies for the inconven—"

"Unacceptable!"

You winced, feeling your ears warm up. If everyone in the parlor wasn't already watching you like a hawk, all eyes were now on you.

"I had to drive two hours here," the father slammed his hand on the counter, leaning in so close that you could smell him. "I drove two hours here for unicorn ice cream and you're telling me that it was all a lie?!"

All of this.... for ice cream?"

"I apologize, sir," you hung your head low to appear genuine, clasping your hands together. "That must have been a long ride and—"

"Shut up and give me my ice cream, you bi—" Your eyes widened a fraction as you saw a big palm swinging your way... Was he about to slap you? In the milliseconds that you could even react, you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the stinging feeling of a hand against your cheek.

But instead, you felt nothing, only the sound of a few gasps and light chuckling.

"Hey, there, sir," you heard Jake's voice as you peeled your eyes open.

Jake was beside you, his hand wrapped around the man's wrist that was mere inches away from your face.

"J-Jake?!"

The man struggled in Jake's grip, attempting (and failing horribly) to pull his wrist out of Jake's hand.

"Let go of me, boy!" he yelled. Everyone's eyes were on the scene now. How embarrassing.

Jake narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip.

"Here at Layla's Ice Cream Parlor, we reserve the right to deny any patron service," he said plainly.

The man scoffed. "And are you about to deny me service? What are you, the manager?"

Jake only shook his head calmly.

"You were about to assault my coworker here," he motioned toward you, then to the man's still-raised hand. "I don't need to be any manager to realize that someone of that sort has no business here."

Jake shot him a smile, before roughly letting go of his wrist, letting it fall to the counter.

"Please leave, sir."

He glanced around the room, noticing the way everyone stared at him. Another tight-lipped smile spread on his face.

"There are no limited-edition summer flavors, so if that is what you are here for, I apologize for the disappointment. " Jake glanced at you. "Please help yourself to the flavors that we actually have."

With that, Jake took you by the wrist, pulling you into the breakroom.

"W-Wait Jake—!" you tried to pull out of his grasp. "There's still customers out there."

He gently pushed you down onto a chair.

Jake crouched down at your sitting figure, putting his hands on your knees. He squeezed them playfully. "You've done enough today. I'll handle the rest."

"But— But there's a lot of people today," you reasoned, placing your hands on his. "You can't run the entire place on your own...!"

But before the last syllables could even leave your lips, Jake was already retying his apron, fixing his dumb uniform hat. Before he slinked away through the door, he glanced over his shoulder, gripping the door frame.

"I'll prove you wrong," he said with a grin. "Just watch."

(You were right, he was wrong. Not even the most exemplary worker like Jake could handle an entire exuberant ice cream parlor by himself. The moment you saw his tired eyes you were already throwing on your apron. Though, you got a good laugh out of it afterwards.)

You deadpanned.

This was not what you signed up for.

It was Saturday, the day that you swore was your break day from work. And then all of a sudden you got an urgent call from your manager and you rushed to work immediately.

You thought that the parlor got robbed, or maybe something broke down.

Nope.

"You want me..." you blinked, "To wear that?!"

Lo and behold, before you was a comically large ice cream costume, with a brown waffled body for the cone and the most obnoxious white swirl reaching high in the ceiling, with only a circular cut-out to see your face.

Apparently, sales were dwindling, so your managers decided to try out some new advertising.

You were going to wear that godforsaken ice cream costume and hang outside the parlor to attract customers.

"Kid-friendly language only," your manager instructed you matter-of-factly. "No swearing, no saying mean words."

You tuned him out.

And if the walk of shame out of the bathroom in your ice cream costume wasn't bad enough, you were hit with the last thing you wanted to see: Jake Sim.

You were about to jump and shriek and let the ground open up and devour you whole... when you realized that he was wearing an ice cream costume too...!

"You too?!" you cried. Behold, in front of you stood your favorite coworker Jake Sim with an equally deadpan expression, clad in the ridiculous ice cream costume.

"Yup," Jake muttered, popping the p. "I guess we'll never be free."

And he was indeed correct.

There was truly nothing more mortifying than standing outside the damn ice cream parlor, holding an even more obnoxiously bright sign and trying to attract customers... all in your humiliating ice cream costume.

Kids laughed at you from across the street. Cars that passed by you probably did the same. Absolutely demoralizing.

"Come to Layla's Ice Cream Parlor," you said in a monotone voice, trying your very best to not burst into tears of sheer embarrassment. "We have ice cream... and... uh—"

You glanced at Jake, whispering to him, "What else do we have?"

"Ice cream." He said, absolutely no expression in his voice or face. Oh god, we must have lost him too! "Nothing but ice cream."

Poor guy, he looked like he wanted to disappear.

This must have been a punishment, or something. Maybe a humiliation ritual. But after a good ten minutes, you and Jake just decided to commit to the bit. After all, you were getting paid extra for this.

"Ice cream, ice cream!" you and Jake chanted as you paraded around the vicinity of the parlor. After all, there was nothing you could do but make the best of it. You went out of your way to speak to oncoming customers, advertising with the most energy you could. "Come to Layla's Ice Cream!"

But it wasn't always easy.

Like always, customers and children were rude.

"Hello, miss, are you interested in trying some of Layla's yummy yummy ice cre—" and then you got laughed at. Like actually. They just started pointing and laughing at you. Like you were some freak.

And then Jake tried to square up some little kids a few times, it was a mess.

And finally, after what felt like years out there trying to advertise to people, your manager finally called you guys back in. Apparently, you and Jake did such a wonderful job that you guys were needed back at the front. Your coworkers couldn't seem to keep up. Lazy asses.

You and Jake went back inside to change back into your work uniforms— those stupid blue and white sailor uniforms. Except, one of your coworkers was having an "emergency" in the staff bathroom (you were certain it was just Beomgyu sitting on the toilet with his phone and refusing to do his job), so both you and Jake had to change in the staff break room.

At the same time.

"Okay, you will change, and I will cover you—"

"Shut up!" you exclaimed. "Why can't we just change at the same time?"

Jake was being terribly awkward about it.

"B-Because!" he reasoned, unable to hide the way he couldn't look you in the eye. "Because.... you're a girl, and I'm a guy!"

"Aaaaand?" you drew out your syllables, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We can't possibly change in the same room?" Jake cried. "What if— What if I accidentally see your—"

Your cheeks warmed up. What was he on about? "You're not going to!"

Your boss was really annoying about punctuality, so you and Jake should probably change quickly anyway. You ignored Jake's fussing, raising your arms as you began to pull your shirt over your head.

"What are you—"

"Just change!"

In the end, you guys just did the easiest option: turning around so that you faced opposite directions while the other changed... which should have been intuitive for Jake (but he's a little slow).

When you two were both done changing, you turned back around to face Jake, about to let out your grievances about working.

Except, when you saw him, you couldn't help but let out a giggle.

Because your work uniform was supposed to resemble that of a sailor, there were a few complex pieces, such as the sailor scarf draped over your shoulders and neck. Usually, you need a mirror to tie it properly. There was also the damn paper sailor hat that you had to wear.

Since you weren't changing in the bathroom, there was no mirror, so poor Jake's hat and tie were sloppily done, crooked on his person.

"Jake," you smiled, motioning for him to come toward you. And when he was close enough, you yanked him even closer to you by his shoulders, causing him to let out a yelp.

"W-What are you doing?" he asked, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

You giggled again. Your hands began to work on his tie, undoing his sloppy tie and neatly folding it. "Relax, you big baby."

When you were done with his tie, you fixed Jake's hat, oblivious to the way Jake's ears and neck turned a noticeable shade of red.

"There you go," you said with a grin. "All good!"

Jake looked at you with shaky eyes. You were close to him now. Close enough that he could feel your breath fanning his cheeks. Close enough that if he just leaned in a bit more, he could kiss you— Jake jerked himself away from you abruptly. His heart was pounding in his chest at an abnormal rate.

Don't think about kissing her when she's right in front of you! he scolded himself. You gave him a questioning look, before you just grinned again and left the break room.

Ah, Jake was going crazy.

Man, fuck you Beomgyu! you mentally cursed your other coworker. You were absolutely correct; earlier he was indeed hogging the staff bathroom so that he could shirk his responsibilities. According to Jake, Beomgyu did this really often, to the point that the staff bathroom ran out of soap too fast because Beomgyu was busy playing with soap and making dumb ass bubbles in there.

Of all times, it had to be now that the staff bathroom just decided to run out of soap?

It was getting late, so your manager told you to start cleaning. And just as you began, some little unsupervised middle schooler skateboarded right into you, spilling his three scoops of chocolate ice cream with layers of caramel and peanut butter sauce all over your white uniform.

And all you were given were a few measly napkins to wipe but the sticky sweet mess, only after you cleaned up the mess on the floor. Now as you desperately tried to clean the mess off your uniform in the staff bathroom, you were certain that your manager was going to yell at you later.

As you reached for another hand towel from the dispenser, you let out a groan as you realized that there were no more. Seriously, what was Beomgyu doing in here that he just used up all the soap and paper towels?

"[Name]," you heard a knock on the door. It was Jake. "You good in there?"

You groaned again.

"No!" you cried from the other side of the door. You were frustrated, how bothersome! Even if there were more paper towels, there still was a giant brown stain on your shirt. And you'd probably have to get another uniform. "It looks like a shit stain!"

You heard Jake chuckle from the other side of the door, before his footsteps retreated. After a few minutes, Jake came back.

"Can I come in?" he asked, knocking again on the bathroom door.

"Door's unlocked."

Except, instead of seeing Jake in his usual work uniform, he had a big black hoodie thrown over him, probably one that he was wearing before he changed into his uniform earlier. In his hands was a white shirt.

"Wear this," he said as he shoved the white shirt into your hands.

It was his own uniform shirt.

"But—" you tried to reason with him, but he put his hand up, silencing you.

"Can't have you walking around with a shit stain on your shirt," he said with a cheeky grin, earning him a slap on the arm.

"But you'll get in trouble," you breathed. Your manager was really particular about workers wearing uniforms, and for some reason not about workers actually doing their job.

Jake shrugged. "It's about time I did." And flashed you another smile. "And plus, I was going to get in trouble anyway. Apparently, defending my coworker from a rude customer is punishable."

Ah, the unicorn ice cream incident from a few weeks ago.

Was he really that willing to get in trouble for you?

As you closed the door to the bathroom, you could already hear your manager and another coworker making their comments about Jake. Although you couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, it must have been the usual remarks about inefficiency. And probably about how he wasn't wearing work-appropriate clothes.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as you listened to their muffled voices.

Jake was really getting in trouble all for your sake.

As you buttoned up his white shirt, you noted that it carried the scent of his cologne. It smelled good, and you instinctively brought the sleeve up to your nose to catch a better whiff. But then you felt weird and stopped immediately.

It wasn't fair. Everything about your job.

You and Jake had to do all the work, but even so, the managers were disproportionately harsher with Jake than they were with you. Probably because of some sexist bullshit.

And then there were rude and entitled customers.

Jake was taking the fall for you too much.

And you couldn't keep letting it happen.

As you made your way out of the staff bathroom, you could hear your manager berating Jake, with another coworker joining in.

"And why are you not in our employee dress code?" your manager chided. "This is unacceptable! A hoodie? What do you think will happen to our store's brand?"

Jake just hung his head low, but you could tell he was annoyed more than anything. "It was because [Name]'s shirt got ruined, and she was uncomfortable."

"And what business do you have with [Name]?" your coworker joined in lambasting the poor Jake.

"Look, man," Jake looked up at them. "I was just helpin' her out." Jake paused for a moment. "And plus it's closing hours anyway. It's not like anyone sees me out of uniform."

Your manager and coworker thought for a few moments, before your coworker said, "Well, you're still causing a hindrance for our parlor. I think we will cut you weekly pay—"

His weekly pay? Ridiculous. Your body moved on its own, and before you knew it, you had bursted through the door.

"I-It was my fault!" you blurted, your lips moving faster than you could think. "Jake was just helping me."

You ignored the way Jake looked at you with eyes big as saucers, surprised. You swiped your tongue over your lip. "I-It's really my fault. If there's anyone that should get their weekly pay cut, it should be me."

Jake's face visibly contorted, his brows crashing together. "[Name]—"

"That's enough," your manager finally spoke up. The older man sighed, before checking his wrist watch. "Jake, [Name], just forget about it. Don't make this mistake again. Just close up for the night."

And with that, you and Jake were left alone once more.

"What was that all about?" Jake asked you as the two of you closed up.

"What was what?"

Jake huffed, leaning on the mop. "You know, what happened earlier about uniforms?"

"Oh." You shrugged, not really paying him any mind. "What about it?"

Jake huffed again. "Y'know... Why did you step in?"

You finally looked at him, before blinking a few times. "Isn’t it obvious?"

Jake smiled. "No, that’s why I’m asking you."

You scoffed playfully. "Okay, smartass."

You paused for a few moments. "You’re my friend, Jake. You’ve protected me in the past, so I'm just returning the favor."

"Thank you," Jake replied, unable to hide the smile growing on his face. "That's very kind of you.

You just hummed in response, going back to cleaning up.

Jake teetered on his feet, back and forth, as he played with his fingers. His heart pounding in his chest, Jake chewed on his bottom lip.

He was nervous.

Just this morning, you texted him if he wanted to hang out with you, because as you said, you were bored.

Hanging out? With you? The hottest girl that he's ever seen? There was no way in hell that he'd say no to such a golden opportunity.

You'd told Jake to meet you at the pier, because there was a nice mall area around there. As you relayed in your texts, you were going on vacation in a few weeks, and needed to go shopping for it.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any ulterior motives. You weren't really sure how you felt about Jake. He was cute, and sweet, and you definitely wanted to get to know him better. And there was a part of you that desperately wanted to impress him.

Maybe today could be an opportunity for you.

You checked your reflection in the car window before you got out of your mom's car. Muttering a "bye," you made your way toward where you told Jake to meet you.

It was a sunny day. You chose to wear something breathable, a pretty pink sundress with a cardigan. You didn't dress like this on most days. You liked to opt for dark colors, but today you wanted to be... cute.

Pretty for Jake.

You spotted Jake pretty easily. Not because he had anything that made him physically easy to identify, not at all. It was more like... you simply could just spot him. It was like you had a newfound Jake-radar.

"Hi," you said with a smile. And for some reason, it seemed like Jake was startled, with his eyes widening as he caught sight of you. "Are you okay?"

Jake stared at you for a few moments, and you swore you saw the way his eyes looked you up and down. His lips parted, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he swiped his tongue over his lips.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment. You didn't wear light colors normally, was it obvious that this dress was not something that you usually wear? Did you look strange? Maybe you should've worn your typical black clothing, and—

"N-No," Jake stammered, his eyes still looking you up and down. Truth be told, he had to bite back a "damn." Because yes, damn, you looked hot. "You look— You look nice today."

Your cheeks prickled with warmth. "Oh. Thank you."

"You don't..." Jake continued, as if he was on autopilot. You were beginning to feel really shy when you realized that he was really staring at your chest area. "You don't wear pink often, do you?"

You averted your gaze. "You're right, I don't." How embarrassing! So he notices the things you wear... and he probably 100% knows that you don't wear pink at all. "Does it look weird, or—"

"No!" Jake blurted, before catching himself. He cleared his throat, his ears a warm shade of pink. "Not at all. I really, uh, meant it when I said— When I said you looked nice."

You nodded slowly. Was it normal to feel so warm? Maybe you should check the weather again?

"Really nice," Jake echoed himself. If you weren't busy feeling shy yourself, you would have noticed Jake checking you out for the 50th time already.

You murmured a brief "thanks," before you quickly changed the subject.

"Shall we go?"

It was unusual to feel awkward or shy around Jake, and vice versa. You knew for sure that Jake was a special person, but it never affected you. For Jake, he was determined to be calm and nonchalant when it came to you. And plus, your friendship was always casual anyway.

Which was why all of your shyness dissipated pretty quickly.

You took Jake along to all the spots at the pier's mall area.

"What are you looking for?" Jake asked as he trailed after you. Jake will never understand women. You've been to 4 stores already, and all you've done is touch things and say, 'Oh this is cute.' And then you'd leave.

You shrugged. "Cute things for vacation."

Jake looked around, through the store mirrors as you two traversed the mall area. "Any preferences?"

You shrugged again. "I like dark colors, but I don't mind brighter colors for vacation, yaknow?"

Jake hummed.

The two of you walked around for a little longer until you stopped in front of a store.

"What's this?" Jake asked.

You grinned. "A swimsuit store."

Listen, Jake wouldn't consider himself an easily-excitable guy. He wasn't pervy, either. Especially toward you! He was nonchalant!

But as he entered the girly swimsuit store, he couldn't help but redden at the thought of you in some of these swimsuits. Some of them were provocative and cheeky, making Jake's stomach do flips as his mind crept into places that made it hard for him to make eye contact with you. Other ones were cute and frilly, arguably making Jake's heart pound even faster as he imagined you in them.

"Hey, what do you think about this one?" you asked Jake as you took one of the suits off the rack.

On the inside, Jake was already drooling at the thought. But on the outside he simply nodded, giving a playful smile and a thumbs up. And really, he thought that if he could maintain that attitude for the rest of the time in this swimsuit store, he'd be fine.

But he was wrong.

"Okay, I'm gonna try these on, and I'll have you give me feedback."

What.

What?

And so Jake sat in the couches in front of the changing rooms, simply awaiting his death.

He's not weird, he swears. He doesn't want to be creepy or gross toward you.

But how could he not sweat and basically hyperventilate in these changing rooms when the hottest girl that he's ever seen (you) is about to ask him for his opinion on swimsuits?

Jake was certain that no matter what, you would look hot.

And he was proven correct when you slipped out of the changing rooms.

"Okay, first one," you said, in a voice that was a little too relaxed. You went on your tiptoes, doing a few turns here and there so that Jake could see the full extent of the suit on you. "What do you think?"

And oh.

Good lord.

Jake was really trying his best not to make you uncomfortable.

But there was absolutely no way that he could just sit there and not react. His jaw quite literally dropped the moment he saw you.

The way the suit hugged your body, the way the colors illuminated your skin, the way you were 100% feeling yourself in it— All of it was making Jake 2 seconds away from crashing out.

You must have been a goddess. Or maybe Jake saved a country in his past life.

"It looks— You look— I— You—" he stumbled over his words. There were no words to describe how you looked. You looked downright beautiful. Like, if Jake died now he wouldn't mind. And when you giggled at his reaction, he took a deep breath. Don't be a weirdo! he told himself.

"You look beautiful," he breathed, finally catching himself. His eyes flickered back up to your pretty, pretty face. "You look really beautiful in this one."

"Thank you," you smiled at him. You did another twirl, something that you definitely knew drove him crazy. And if you hadn't noticed him checking you out, Jake was certain that you definitely knew now.

And maybe Jake didn't know enough about women. Because he really believed that that one swimsuit was the only one that you were trying on.

And he was so wrong.

Because there were at least 3 more that you wanted to show him!

Oh, he wasn't going to survive this.

Well, Jake did survive.

After insisting on carrying your shopping bag full of your new swimsuits (Jake didn't dare peek inside because he thought he'd combust), you decided to do some more exploring.

You got some food to munch on, and went to all types of stores. And you took many pictures, too! Pictures together, of you trying on hats and sunglasses. Candid pictures of each other, many of which where you look pretty without even trying and Jake's mind is blown.

More exploring, walking, sitting down, walking, and then sitting for 30 minutes because both of your feet hurt. A lot of laughing, a lot of dumb conversations, and even more laughing.

And before you knew it, it was getting dark out. Suddenly, the sound of the waves crashing filled the air, the cool beach wind blowing against your cheeks. 

"Let's go walk along the shore!"

And so you did.

The orange sky was fading into a dark blue, and yet, the sun still shone so brightly as it submerged into the horizon. The water gently rocked against the shoreline, while the scent of sea salt and seaweed filled your senses.

It was a cool evening, and you tugged on the sleeves of your cardigan to warm your cold hands.

By now, the beach was quiet. Many people had already left, as it was slowly becoming nighttime.

In quiet moments like this, you couldn't help but fully conceptualize Jake as a person.

He was a handsome boy your age. He was kind, sweet, responsible, silly, everything great in a person. And he had a similar music taste to you, too. And here he was, walking alongside you as the sun set.

Your eyes fluttered over to him. His eyes were trained on the sand below his feet, appreciating the way the wet granules covered his skin.

He was a straightforward person. Things went from A to B with him easily. No games, nothing to hide. And yet, you felt like there was so much to discover about him. There was an entire world undiscovered in his head. And you wanted to be a part of it.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked suddenly, interrupting the calm silence.

"You."

.

.

.

You?

You could feel your heart picking up speed, but you kept your composure. Meanwhile, you swore your skin was prickling with an uncharacteristic warmth.

"I-I mean—" Jake seemed to snap out of his daze. "I— I was just thinking about you, and work, and summer, and—"

You blinked, but your lips spread into a tight smile. You didn't know why you felt disappointed.

You sucked in a breath. "The water's really nice tonight."

"Mhm," Jake agreed. He wasn't blind. He could see the way your face fell ever so slightly. He could see when you felt flustered or shy because of him.

But what if he was misinterpreting things? What if his eyes were playing tricks on him?

But then you'd look up at him with those shiny eyes, almost like you were begging him to give you his heart.

Just go for it.

His eyes dropped to your hands, which were still tugging on your sleeves to keep warm.

Jake clicked his tongue. Boldly, he grabbed your hands, clasping them in yours.

"Hey!" you cried.

"Geez, your hands are so cold," he murmured, before locking his fingers with one of your hands. As if nothing happened, Jake just continued walking along the shore, this time with your hand in his.

You stared at your interlocked fingers for a few moments, before you swallowed all of your shyness and continued trailing with him.

The two of you returned to walking in silence, nothing but the sound of the water and your breaths filling the air.

Jake wasn't lying when he said he was thinking of you, because he really. He always was. And just as he was about to fall back into thought, your hand pulled away from his.

With curious eyes, Jake watched as you silently pulled out a tiny plastic case from your purse.

Your earbuds.

You plugged them into your phone, before jamming one of the buds into your own ear. You looked at Jake expectantly, and he took the second earbud graciously.

You bit back a laugh as you turned on your music.

The second you pressed 'play,' a hardy bass and an unforgettable drumline played into your ears.

"Are you serious?" Jake immediately snapped his head at you. "Fleetwood Mac?!"

You laughed, throwing your head back. "I wasn't about to let you ruin the beach vibe and play Bon Jovi."

"I don't only listen to Bon Jovi—!"

And just as you and Jake were enjoying music, the beach, and most importantly, each other, Jake's phone rang. And of course, his ringtone was a Bon Jovi song.

You gave him a look as his lips spread into a goofy smile.

Not daring to tear out the earbud, he picked up his phone and listened with his other ear.

And even though it was nearly nighttime by now, you could still see how Jake's face morphed.

When he hung up, his face dropped.

"They need me to take someone's shift."

Oh.

This was really, very, genuinely, seriously annoying.

Because unfortunately, the truth was that if they needed Jake to work, then they probably needed you to work too.

Because they always needed you and Jake to work.

And so, here your (not-so official) date was ending.

Apparently, it was extremely urgent, and they insisted on paying Jake extra if he came. Not to worry, because he texted your manager to make sure that you'd get extra pay if you came along, too.

The moment that you stepped into the parlor, you could feel all the joy leaving your body. You swore that Layla’s Ice Cream Parlor had evil spirits in there, designed specifically to simply fill your body with dread.

You put on one of the spare work uniforms that the parlor had in the back. It was a little big, and a little itchy, but whatever.

When Jake got the phone call and explained to you the situation, you were fully expecting a packed parlor, with a line that went out the door and your incompetent coworkers couldn't handle it, or something. But now that you were in the parlor, you realized that that was just a load of bullshit.

"Empty," Jake muttered behind you. "There is absolutely no one here."

You hummed in agreement, equally deadpan.

Those lazy bums.

They just didn't want to work the closing shift. They just didn't want to do the cleaning or locking up. They just wanted you to take their shifts so that they could go home and relax.

And so here you two were, just lazing around in the breakroom, just trying to pass the time. You let your phone play some random playlist.

"I'm sorry," Jake said, with his cheek pressed against the breakroom table. "We were hanging out and I decided to take us to work."

"Nah, you're justified," you said lazily. "They're promising us extra pay, so it's fine."

The room went silent again, but you could tell Jake was thinking something. And indeed, he was.

Jake felt horrible! Although you did agree to come to work with him, he still felt back. Did he just fumble your first (unofficial) date? God, he's so stupid! Now you two were stuck in the worst place on earth.

He stared at your bored expression.

He couldn't let you stay bored.

Without a word, he got up from his seat in the breakroom and disappeared out to the front. You could hear some cluttering and buzzing.

"Close your eyes!" he yelled before he came back to where you were in the breakroom. And you complied.

"What are you doing, Jake?" you asked, but you couldn't help but smile. He was definitely up to some antics.

"Just close your eyes," he instructed you, before sitting down with you at the breakroom table again.

Jake clasped his hands together. "I have three cups of ice cream here. You will close your eyes and guess which one is which."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you serious?"

"Yes!" Jake laughed. "We can't get bored in here."

You chuckled. "Okay, fine."

Jake watched you intently as he spoon-fed you the first spoonful of ice cream.

The first flavor was strawberry, your personal favorite.

Maybe it was getting late, or maybe Jake was just too obsessed with you, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the way your pretty lips opened up for the ice cream. He was simply so mesmerized by the way you licked your lips, relishing in the way the sweet strawberry ice cream melted on your tastebuds.

"This is so obvious," you nudged him, kicking him from under the table. "At least make it hard for me!"

Jake rolled his eyes playfully. "Just guess!"

You huffed, mumbling something about him being stupid under your breath. "Strawberry. Duh."

"Woo hoo!" Jake cheered for you. "It was strawberry!"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock."

The second flavor was ube. Which you guessed almost immediately.

"Next flavor, please," you giggled. "This game is too easy,"

But Jake wasn't listening to you in the slightest.

Just why did you have to start licking the spoon clean? The way your glossy lips wrapped around the spoon, your tongue wrapping around the smooth plastic, and now he was feeling all types of things, and—

"Seriously, make it harder for me!"

Jake gulped.

The last flavor he had was salted caramel. His own personal favorite.

He'd already taken a few bites out of it.

He glanced at your lips, then down at the salted caramel ice cream.

Even under the corporate light of the break room, you still glowed so prettily. And you must have been doing it on purpose, the way you were keeping the spoon in your mouth, with your lips wrapped around it so prettily.

Jake's eyes flickered back to your lips once more, then to the salted caramel ice cream.

His heart was already pounding in his chest. All the blood was rushing to his head and Jake thought that he'd faint.

Your lips were just so damn pretty.

It seemed like something was possessing Jake's body. While his mind was frozen on your lips, his body was moving on its own.

He reached out for you first, his large hand taking solace on your shoulder.

And in one, fluid motion, Jake leaned in, and closed the gap between his lips and yours.

Your lips were soft and sweet, like clouds. Jake's eyes had unconsciously fallen shut, and the moment that he realized that he was kissing you, they shot open. However, just as he was about to pull away, because oh my god he was kissing you, and he didn't even ask!, Jake felt your hand slither up around his neck.

You pulled him in even closer, deepening the kiss.

Jake felt dizzy. It was the way your tongue dipped into his mouth when he let out a little gasp. Or maybe it was the way your fingers ran through his hair, almost as if you were desperate to keep his lips on yours. Your everything— your hands, your lips, your scent— they were all driving him insane.

Jake didn't want it to end, and if it weren't for his need for air, he wouldn't have pulled away. Ever.

The two of you sat there, breathless, staring into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity. Jake's cheeks were red, his pupils blown out with desire. His eyes fell down to your lips.

"Salted caramel," you breathed, your hands sliding down to his shoulders. You squeezed his shoulders. "You taste like salted caramel— kiss me if that's the answer—"

And you didn't need to ask him twice, because Jake was already crashing his lips against yours.

There was something so addictive about your lips. The way you moaned against his lips, the way you clung onto him like you needed him, it was all driving him crazy.

Jake needed more, he needed you.

In his head, it was all just you, you, you.

"I want you so bad," Jake mumbled against your lips. "Please."

He could feel you giggle, but he simply just slides his hand around your waist to pull you closer.

Your lips moved against his in ways that were too perfect to be real. Jake felt like he was in heaven. You were heaven. You were angelic, you were godly, you were—

"Um, excuse me, are you guys still open?"

!!!

You and Jake jumped away from each other.

Shit.

It was still store hours.

"Are we going to get fired?"

Now it was actually closing hours.

You and Jake started cleaning after you were so rudely interrupted, and now it was time to close up.

And it was awkward.

Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. It felt like forever since you shared your kisses with Jake. And now, you craved his lips once more.

But what if it was just on the whim? What if Jake just did it to do it?

You just wanted him so bad. You wanted to kiss him again, you wanted to feel him again.

"For what?"

You shifted uncomfortably, your eyes refusing to meet Jake's.

"Kissing coworkers."

"No!" Jake's cheeks flared up. "Of course not!"

"Then..." your brows furrowed. Your face felt hot to the touch. You felt like you were going to get a heart attack. Seriously, you felt like you were burning up, all the while you felt frozen in time and space. You slowly looked up at Jake. "Then can we... you know... keep doing it?"

.

.

.

"I— I mean, if you don't mind— and if it's not something that we could get fired for—" you stammered— "Then can we... you know— can we keep kissing?"

Jake was already on it.

“Eek, Jake, lock the doors first!”

After a few more weeks of hiding in the storage closet to makeout, and honestly straight up shirking your responsibilities to kiss in the breakroom, you and Jake did the unthinkable.

"We resign!"

Your manager looked at you incredulously. "W-What?"

You and Jake smiled. "We quit."

You've never felt more free. With your boyfriend at your side, it seemed like the summer was endless.

BONUS

"Did I ever tell you that I liked you?" you asked Jake, in his car just moments after you quit your job.

"I don't think you did, babe," Jake laughed.

"Oh."

You should probably put that on your to-do list.

You glanced at your boyfriend. How his lips looked so kissable.

Sigh. You'll tell him what you like later. It's time to kiss!

note: please reblog n comment if you enjoyed! xoxo vanya >_<

[deonsx]

Hellooo! I was wondering if u could make a fic or headcanon (its up to u tho!) about seishirou fake dating? I think the reason would be bcs the girls in his school would stop chasin after him or smthing like that? And ofc eventually they like each other. I hope ur doing well! take ur time and have a great day!

Heyaa!! The request box is pretty full these days, I'm moving as fast as I can, have a nice read!!

Fake Dating With Nagi Seishiro

Seishiro is fed up with the constant attention he gets from the girls at school. No matter how politely he turns them down they just won’t stop chasing after him. It is tiring and it is starting to interfere with his focus. Finally he comes up with a plan. He needs a fake girlfriend. Someone who can convincingly pull it off and won’t actually fall for him

That is where you come in. Maybe you are a friend or maybe you are just someone who seems reliable and disinterested in him romantically. One day after class Seishiro corners you with his usual calm and collected demeanor intact “I need your help” he says crossing his arms and leaning casually against the wall “Pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for a while. It will get them off my back”

You blink at him surprised “Why me??” you ask skeptical “Because you are the only one who won’t make this weird” he replies with a faint smirk “And you are also the only one who doesn’t seem interested in all the attention I get” After some hesitation you agree “How hard could it be” you think. A little hand holding here a few staged moments there and it will all be over soon enough

But as the plan unfolds things don’t go quite as planned. Seishiro who is always calm and cool starts to act differently. At first you think it is just part of the act. Like the way he suddenly gets protective when someone teases you or how his smiles feel more genuine when it is just the two of you. But then you realize it is not just an act anymore

And maybe you are not just pretending either

At first, Seishiro would approach the fake relationship like a task. He remains composed and distant, treating the whole situation as a formal arrangement. Holding your hand or placing an arm around your shoulder would feel mechanical, done only when necessary to convince others

However, he takes the role seriously. If someone questions the authenticity of the relationship, Seishiro defends it without hesitation. He might casually say “She’s my girlfriend. Isn’t it obvious?” His confidence leaves no room for doubt, making the act even more convincing

As time passes, Seishiro’s demeanor starts to shift. Initially, every small gesture like walking you to class or standing closer than usual feels calculated. But soon it starts to feel natural. The way he looks at you, lingers a bit too long. The way he laughs at your jokes feels a little too genuine for an act

You on the other hand, are nervous in the beginning. Agreeing to the fake dating arrangement seems simple at first, but being the center of attention feels strange. When someone asks “When did you two start dating?” you might panic stumbling over an answer

Over time though you start questioning your feelings. Is this really just fake? Or have you started to care about Seishiro more than you’re willing to admit?

Together, your interactions change. What began as staged hand-holding turns into moments that feel genuine. A hug in public doesn’t stop as soon as people stop looking. A playful argument about what to eat ends with him smiling in a way that feels far too intimate for a fake boyfriend

Then there’s the jealousy. Even though the relationship is fake, you both start to notice how uncomfortable it feels when someone flirts with the other. It’s subtle at first Seishiro’s narrowed eyes when someone gets too close to you, or the way you feel your chest tighten when another girl compliments him

Eventually, these small moments lead to something bigger. Maybe one night, after a particularly convincing moment in public, you find yourselves alone. Seishiro looks at you, a rare vulnerability in his gaze, and asks “If this is supposed to be fake, why does it feel so real?”

Enjoy!

[beetrans]

also: what's written in the tweet above ("obfuscating heterogenous interpretive accessibility") isn't just by Academics against Non-Academics. It occurs between different disciplinary approaches to the same problems and even sub-fields of the same disciplines.

The actual benefit of this (outside of Seeming Fancy & Everyone's Doing It) is to be able to write one term and have everyone (in your field/in the know) immediately understand that you're talking about a whole set of theories, models, norms, assumptions, and lineages of argumentation, and think about the rest of your sentence/paragraph/argument through that lens.

(however, sometimes people invoke those terms just because they think they look smart -- see for instance "epistemological", "operationalize", "recursive dialectic" above -- and end up putting somewhat contradictory pieces together. That only flies when others in the field assume the person writing like that Must be smarter than them and really Understand those words better and Mean It.)

This is why "interdisciplinarity" is a real skill -- people are using completely different languages to address the same problems, then talking past or simply not talking with each other. You need to be able to read the same literal words and understand them to mean very different things.

[evellynssocbrainrot]

So I have been minorly skimming some stuff on YouTube and TikTok about SOC, and I cannot believe some of the things that people say about Kaz and the Crows.

One point I tend to hear from Six of Crows critiques a lot is "The Crows act older than their supposed age, especially Kaz"

And... Seriously? Did we read the same book? The Crows are constantly making jokes and bickering. Do you think people who are in their 30's or even their late 20's would say shit like "jogs the liver" or "I need a cup of the darkest bitterest coffee or a real punch to the jaw" or "my ghost won't associate with your ghost" or "a hive of bees in your dresser drawer"? THEY WOULDN'T. (Actually, they can, but maybe not every single sentence and not as impulsively) These are things only dramatic teenagers would say. Not to mention the way the Crows handle their traumas is extremely immature and they're awful at communicating. The Crows actually act more like teenagers than 90% of teenagers in YA novels. The only reason why they seem older is because they have skills.

Another point I tend to hear a lot from critiques is "Kaz never faces consequences and he always wins and he's perfect"

What!!???? Just what!!?? In what universe? Once again, did these people read the same book as us?? Kaz is always facing terrible consequences. He is on the edge of losing his own crew every other chapter. His own crew is not afraid to call him out on his shit when he does it. The trauma he has doesn't glorify him, it makes him look pathetic and weak next to the other Crows. Kaz himself is deeply ashamed of it and he's lonely and isolated because of it. He is restricted from hugging his crewmates, he is restricted from kissing Inej and that kills him. He is broken and miserable because of it. But simultaneously, the trauma is his problem to fix. Nobody fixes it for him.

And yes, Kaz is highly intelligent and incredibly skilled and strong, but trust me, he does not always win, and he isn't perfect. If I remember correctly, his first plan for the Ice Court was a failure and they had to improvise from there. But the final plan came at a cost, and that was Nina using parem. Towards the end of the book, Kaz was wrong about predicting that Van Eck actually loved Wylan enough to not kill him, and it cost him everything. The first plan he made to take down Van Eck in the middle of CK was a complete disaster. The crew ended up stuck in the Geldrenner hotel. Kaz was clearly dangling so far off the point if utter insanity that he actually resorted to giving himself up for the crew and only resigned because the other Crows stopped him. And for the final plan of the book, Kaz ended up using every single resource he had left, which once again, subtly implies how desperate he was. He gave up all his assets, he used his old home, he used his original surname, he injured himself a lot in order to recruit more people for the plan. It took him a great deal of time, effort, and thinking to finally put together a plan. AND EVEN THEN, it came at a terrible cost which was the life of one of his Crows.

Even the revenge he took against Pekka wasn't that worth it as Pekka still couldn't remember Jordie's name, Jordie was still dead, and Kaz's trauma and pain didn't get any better than it was before.

Kaz is not at all a perfect guy who always wins. He is deeply flawed, twisted and is always losing something even when he wins a bit. I don't understand how some of these SoC critiques didn't understand this.

[corkinavoid]

For @mysterious-messages, to 'Bless the child' by Nightwish

DPxDC Long Time No See

The crow was incredibly persistent. Which, of course, made it ten times more annoying in John's opinion, because he was trying very, very hard not to pay attention to the pitch-black bird with blood red eyes that was perched right outside the window.

Can't he have one single night where no impossibly powerful force of nature interrupts his attempt to drown himself in liquor? Honestly.

The crow knocks on the window again. Three perfectly timed knocks; this bloody bird sure knows how to draw attention, but it also definitely knows Constantine is avoiding it. Which is why it's insisting on making itself a nuisance, no doubt.

To be fair, John is not even entirely sure who's crow is it. Morpheus has a crow at his disposal, but his crow is a bitch. He wouldn't have simply sat on the windowsill and enjoyed annoying Constantine for the sheer spite of it. Death has her crows as well - very thematic, if you ask John - and then there was that one asshole raven that claimed itself belonging to Apollo.

And then, of course, there was-

Actually, maybe he should see what the crow wants. Might be important, after all.

Constantine sighs and puts his whiskey back on the bar before standing up. The world tilts to the side a bit - he might have had a few too many drinks, yeah. But then maybe it's just the side effect of the messenger crow being here, who knows. Constantine would rather put his money on the latter for the sake of his dignity. Not that he has much of that left.

He makes his way to the window, looks at the crow for a long moment, making his last internal debate obvious, and then opens the window.

"The hell do you want?" He asks, but quickly realises it was in vain.

He is not at the bar anymore.

Instead, he is standing in the middle of a graveyard, surrounded by tombstones, fog, and eerie silence. 4/10 on the creepy effect, John has definitely seen this shit done better.

The cloaked figure sitting on the nearest tombstone stays silent, watching him with unblinking, blood red eyes. John sighs again, pinches the bridge of his nose, and reaches into the pocket of his trenchcoat for cigarettes. If he ended up out of the bar anyway, he might as well use it for a smoke break.

"I'd rather you not," the cloaked being says, not a demand but a request by the sound of it. Constantine grimaces, but puts the pack back in the pocket. Arguing with this one will get him exactly nowhere.

"What's this all about, then?" He vaguely gestures around himself, at all the death, decay, and other things that start with the letter 'D'. "I never knew you're into this kind of thing. Very Mary Shelley of you," he raises an eyebrow.

The being - the Dead God, the Ghost of Time, Clockwork, Chronos, and any other name he likes calling himself - huffs a deep, low and breathy laugh. Then, he stands up, his feet firmly planted on the ground for once. He looks different to how John is used to seeing him, all sharp edges and monochrome colors, shiny leather oxfords and loose sleeves with tight cuffs.

Honestly, he kind of reminds Constantine of vampires. He really hopes this is not actually some kind of a new kink of his because John so didn't count on that kind of night. Despite what he's said before.

"No," Chronos shakes his head, his appearance shifting from young to middle-aged. Constantine blinks; if there's anything he learned about the Dead God through their various get-togethers, it's that his age usually reflects his level of seriousness.

But he doesn't have time to ask, nor does he get a moment to prepare, when a child, a literal goddamn child no older than ten steps out from behind Clockwork.

It looks like a boy, dressed in jeans and a blue hoodie with a NASA logo on it, and- He does look like Clockwork. Same pale skin, same eerie, unblinking eyes, same unearthly air around him.

Only, his eyes are a faint blue, like ice and winter skies. Like Constantine's eyes.

The unholy fuck. And he means it literally.

"Is that-" he starts, his throat suddenly dry, pointing his finger at the boy before he even thinks about it, but the Ghost of Time laughs again, a dirty grin on his lips.

"Yours? No, thank the Ancients," he says, making sure to sound just a tad bit offended even if John can see the mirth on his face. Bloody wanker. Constantine lets out a slow, loud breath through his nose.

"Amen to that," he agrees and looks at the kid again. And, as soon as the initial shock wears off, a sneaking suspicion starts to form in his mind. He narrows his eyes. "I don't want to ask, I really don't, but I'm going to anyway. Why?"

Clockwork's face looks distant for a moment, his features shifting into old.

"A child blessed by time has no home in his own life. A child blessed by death has no place among others," he says, and John hates when they speak in riddles, but he thinks he might be getting this one right. "I am only loved when I'm gone, the moments being held dear in memory. But a child does not deserve that," Clockwork's voice sounds almost sad, and, while John does understand it's supposed to be a metaphor, it doesn't feel like one.

But then, he is the Time itself. Maybe for him it's not really a metaphor.

He looks back to the kid, and catches the boy looking away with a grimace. Seems like they have at least one thing in common - they both hold a great distaste to Cronos' solemn way of talking.

Constantine is so going to regret this, but he knows where the Dead God is leading.

"Yeah, okay," he rubs his face with one hand, and, before he has time to ask or say another word, the whole graveyard is gone, and he is standing back in the bar, the low murmur of nightly crowd and warm light around him. Just like before he opened the window to the blood-eyed crow.

The only difference between then and now is the kid standing by his side, looking at him like John is the stupidest man he'd ever seen. Oh, he is already regretting this.

Constantine drops his hand down and goes back to the bar, where he left his drink.

"Want a beer?" He asks, and the kid rolls his eyes, trailing after him.

"I'm twelve," he deadpans, and, yeah, okay, he's got a point.

Fuck it, he is calling in a favor from Bats. That man has, like, twenty kids, he should have some parenting advice.

~•~•~•~

Yeah, the song really reminded me of Clockwork for some reason. Why am I loved only when I'm gone? is really stricking me as a line written for him because you only cherish the time after it's gone, you smile at your memories and pictures, but you rarely ever pay attention to it in the moment.

Also, I did my best with the Gothic aesthetic there, and here's the additional vibe.

Clockwork, just dropping a random ass kid on his occasional one night stand and vanishing into the night, knowing that John Constantine has a soft spot for kids and won't just fuck off to who knows where: it's for the greater good the better timeline

Danny, left alone with a clearly too drunk to think magician whose soul looks like a jigsaw puzzle: the fuck it's not

[benkeibear]

『 Period Sex 』

☼ synopsis: Small blurbs about how they'd fuck you during your period

☼ characters: various jjk characters

☼ reader: female | AFAB

☼ wc: 869

☼ cw: period sex, mentions of blood, oral (reader receiving), fingering, mentions of anal, slight overstimulation.

☼ notes: reposting this bc tumblr flagged it. Whiny bitches 😒

Toji doesn't have a strong opinion on period sex. He prefers not to get that messy with blood on the bed or couch but he's up to it on the floor or in the shower.He prefers to fuck your ass during that time - just a personal preference but if you crave his cock he gladly bruises your cervix, not caring if you're a whining mess from the hard thrusts. But his go to is anal to not get your blood on his dick.

Gojo hates seeing you in pain and doesn't mind helping you out. He was actually the one who brought it up, offering to finger you because orgasms help with the cramps and as long as you're keeping yourself somewhat clean down there he doesn't mind using his tongue on your clit either. He did however paint a heart on your mound with your blood after you came three times on his fingers.

Geto isn't too much of a fan of period sex but is conflicted because he knows it will help you with the pain. He will gladly use his fingers and also fucks you but prefers to wait with oral until your period is done. He makes sure to have a towel beneath you and goes for slow but deep strokes to get your legs to quiver from how intense it feels.

Nanami doesn't mind if you're on your period - it's only natural but like Geto he wont give oral during that time. He prefers to finger you or rut into you really slow while in the bathtub. It involves lots of praise of how well you take him, feeling you squeeze around him because the sensation of his cock inside of you is so much more intense during that time. Plus being in the shower or bathtub makes cleaning up so much easier.

Higuruma is not too fazed by period sex and prefers to use his hands on you during that time since he loves just how sensitive you are. He rolls your clit between his fingers before pushing two or three of his long digits into you without further warning. The way you moan for him, his fingers enough to overwhelm you make him so hard he can't wait to sink his cock into your cunt if you let him.

Yuuta was a little disgusted at first but gave it a chance since it's just a little bit of blood. Your sweet face when he sunk his dick into you will never leave his mind now. Your eyebrows knitted together and your mouth falling open. You also felt so much warmer than usual he never wanted to stop rutting into you. He likes it when you're on top and he fucks up into you - not caring at all if the blood ends up on him.

Choso blushed when you suggested it to him. He'd love nothing more but to bury himself between your thighs during your period. He devours your core and relishes the taste of your arousal mixed with blood on his tongue, his fingers digging deep into you to massage your sweet spot delicately. The orgasms help with your pain but he doesn't know when to stop, addicted to having you like this.

Sukuna never cared for a little blood but he won't give you princess treatment either. If you're horny or looking for some pain relief he lets you ride him. Tire yourself out on his lap and don't mind the squelching noises from how his cock fills you up. If you're in too much pain he will help you move your hips, gently guiding you up and down his length. He does hold back on the harder thrusts, knowing you're more sensitive on your period.

Mahito absolutely loves period sex and doesn't mind getting all dirty with your blood. It's so incredibly arousing to him because you're so vulnerable like this and so easy to overstimulate. He doesn't mind lapping at your cunt and making you squirm when he grins at you, half his face covered in blood and slick before giving you a few more orgasms on his fingers and cock. He makes you lick his fingers clean - so be careful what you wish for.

Yuuji is such a caring boyfriend, hating to see you in pain and doing everything he can to make it better, so of course if you want him to finger you he will. He was hesitant to fuck you because you whine and whimper a lot but he will make love to you, his thrusts extra gentle and his fingers never leaving your clit to bring you more pleasure. The way you paw at him and whine his name always makes him cum.

Megumi doesn't like period sex but he also doesn't like you whining around so he's willing to use your toys on you. He can get a little mean during those times and makes sure that you're properly exhausted by the time you're done. He loves to hold the wand against your clit while either using his fingers or one of your other toys to massage your sweet spot until all pain is gone and you're no longer so horny.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[mixingandmelting]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with a s/o who’s like the sweetest thing ever and he just sees them get mad, mama bear mode at a super powered hero who could end s/o if they wanted too. Like this super powered hero abused their powers and hurt someone on purpose cuz they’re thought it was funny or like violated their mental privacy with psychic abilities and messed with their head just cuz they are slightly annoyed at them over something mildly inconvenient and basic, (), (a fellow ally hero) and for some reason didn’t see a problem with it and they look confused like they didn’t see the problem as to why they’re being scolded like a bad child and apologise to s/o to appease this s/o cuz they’re friends, and s/o like, “are you kidding me? It’s not me that you need to apologise too and not do that again!”? Maybe the boys have seen slight glimpses into their s/o having some fire in them sent the boys way in the form of some sass when the boys are wrong about something and be stubborn about it?

Dick: 

Does he laugh or cry?  Donna’s covering her mouth with both hands while tapping him every other second to ask if the team should step in. Wally is making him concerned about the potential chance of him dying from hypoxia because he can’t stop laughing. Maybe he should’ve been the one to give the whole lecture why abusing powers for personal reasons is a big no-no. And he was going to do it too, already having the infamous Batman-glare from not being happy, at all, for witnessing the misuse of power for a petty reason. But so far, in his opinion, you’re doing a pretty good job at getting the message across. 

“-Oh, so you think you’re the next Superman or Green Lantern, huh? All big and tough when you resort to using your powers for being called jumbo?” 

See? Plus he’s pretty sure no one, including himself, wants to interfere when you’re like this. You left the Titans a strong impression when you, the warmest and kindest person he has known, showed this side of you before Dick and Gar were about to go at it with each other during a mission that was going wrong. Not only had you asked him if he was trying to prove he’s babygirl  by snapping at his fellow teammate over speakers of his phone, you had gone after everyone else the second your sharp hearing caught the sound of snickering. It was quite a humbling experience to say the least. They managed to actually get themselves back together and  improve their teamwork, starting with everyone comforting each other as soon as you hung up (too bad it didn’t help his case. He still remembers standing in front of the door for over five minutes, hesitant to enter his own home on the day he came back). 

“Are you kidding me? It’s not me you should be apologizing to. Go apologize to the right person and don’t do it again!” 

Oh, no. Well, there’s nothing he can do about it now. He gives the other his condolences, understanding what they must be going through. Doesn’t make the scene any less ridiculous though, the vigilante ten times your size and more powerful, slightly bending forward with a sad puppy look while you’re waving your arms. He plops himself on a broken part of a building and sits back to watch the other party turn around and drag their feet towards the victim while you walk right behind them like a disappointed mother. 

Jason:

He’s turned around, his hand is on the intercom, the other wrapped around his waist to sell the image he’s in the process of tying the loose ends of the finished mission. But it’s getting harder by the second to not burst from the conversation you’re having with the other vigilante. 

“So what you’re telling me is that using your powers to get back at someone because you were annoyed with them is perfectly acceptable and not immature, childish, or stupid. And you’re sure you’re not being immature, childish, AND stupid.”

He covers his snort with a cough. Listen. You’re already considered tiny when with him. Muscles, strength, give or take height. Your heart is the one exception, wider than the sea and accepting to most including himself. To the vigilante? You’re an ant. But here you are, lecturing them to the brink of their ears falling off while they look like a child getting scolded. 

He gets it. Had he been in the hot-seat, he probably would look the same. Out of good faith once, he took Duke  on a mission that involved Black Mask, To give the teen the taste of working as a solo vigilante even though he was far from completing vigilante training. By the time Bruce and the rest of the gang had arrived, his head hung low, standing as if he was the military. You, on the other hand, were forty-one minutes in and counting on your lecture, the poor teen behind you at a loss on whether he should stop you or not. Trust no one in the family to keep silent when people he doesn’t know come up to him at gatherings to ask if the story of him getting served by you is true. He’s still bitter, especially with everyone knowing he can’t do a single thing. Not when it’s tied to gentle and loving you. So when someone who’s close to you and/or him goes through the same misery, it brings him joy from gaining a new comrade, a sympathetic companion. 

“You better get going and apologize right this instance or so help me I will-” 

“That’s my babe.” Jason murmurs, faking a tear from how moved he is under his helmet. Proud that his one love is able to verbally go face-to-face with someone that can squash you if they wanted to. Until it registers in his mind that you’re silent. Turning around, he flinches and awkwardly waves a hand at your glaring form. Well damn. When things were getting good too. 

Tim:

He doesn’t even bat an eyelash to what’s unfolding behind him, going over the mission like normal despite all the glances the JLA gives over his and the rest of Young Justice’s shoulder. 

“Based on how the sediments that were being transported in the crates, we were able to rule out-”

“Sorry to interrupt Robin, but what’s going on behind you four?”

It’s a record-breaking moment. Their responses have never been as in-sync or instantaneous until then.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not an issue.”

“I don’t see a problem.”

“There’s a problem?” 

The JLA members force themselves to ignore it for the time being from the expression all four of them give. Good. The less questions asked, the better for the team. It was the other day Cass had to face you from the stunt she pulled during said mission they’re going over right now. He knows for a fact that Conner and Bart remember all the times you remind all three males the fire that resides in the soft and sweet you when not taken seriously. When it’s him,Tim can never manage to make eye-contact with you for a few days. Bart hides behind the nearest and largest object the second you’re within a ten-mile radius of him. Conner? He has it the worst. Often left in skin and bones, he used to lie on the floor of his bedroom and contemplate the meaning of life every time someone enters and tries to talk to him. He’s gotten better, having progressed to where he seems to freeze on spot if ignoring the miniscule sniffle he makes. 

You do manage to amaze Tim at the same time, proving to him how  “if there’s a will, there’s a way” is a scientifically proven phrase from the way you stay perfectly fine despite going on for five minutes straight without breathing. 

He does sympathize for the vigilante that can probably kill you on the spot had you not been their friend. From the background of his screen, he can see you point at a certain location before the other dejectedly floats towards that direction. Just in time too. He was running out of ideas on how to stop the league from further finding out Young Justice can’t function without you momming them. 

Duke:

He sends a prayer, wishing the victim to rest in peace. He’s seen you before, experienced first-handedly how you are when you’re in mother-hen mode. And he can say, with complete confidence, the person on the receiving end is a goner. 

Duke’s first time was back during the We Are Robin movement. Looking back, he has to admit younger him was an idiot to think he could dismantle a bomb on his own with no experience, nonetheless one set by Penguin’s men. But him in the past was in his emo-teen phase. Meaning, he didn’t acknowledge or consider all the red flags blaring at his face from how dangerous it was going to be, his mission on proving how useless the adults were to keeping a city safe taking priority. Needless to say, he was a mess when he got back to the base, barely managing to escape with his life intact. 

He thought he knew what was coming when everyone pats his shoulder as they walk out and leave him with you in their meeting room. You didn’t scream. You didn’t yell. The worst part?  He couldn’t defend himself. There was no room for any counter arguments because you knew he knew everything you were saying was right (and because he had a massive crush on but that’s besides the point). Charred front and back, he was instantly put in place and shedding out of his phase there and then. Hence, that moment being the last encounter with that side of you from all the efforts he had put in to do anything to avoid having those horrid times he experienced that day repeat itself again.

“What part of you makes you think it’s me you need to apologize to? On top of messing with a person’s mind because you didn’t like their attitude toward you? Are you sure you’re trying to help save the city? Or are you just- ” 

He shakes his head. He watches the remaining fight in their eyes disappearing, face becoming impossibly paler and ashen when you proceed to shred the remaining dignity in them. On one part, it almost, almost, makes him want to step in and save the other from further looking as if they wanted to dig a hole and bury themselves in it. On another, he’s glad he’s not the one facing your wrath. He can do another day of not going through it, thank you very much. 

Damian: 

He’s having the time of his life. Not as much as he usually does when he ruins a criminal’s perfect night, but still, nonetheless enjoyable. Despite the disapproving eyes Jon shoots at him, his grin grows wider at each strike you give to the vigilante. 

It satisfies him deep in his heart, the image of you destroying their soul piece by piece. Them tasting the hell he constantly goes through.

He suspected you had a fire in your heart since he first met you. How else would it explain your warmth and care you showered others in, including himself? Most cases, he has to maneuver himself to keep most of that warmth to himself. When he doesn’t, that’s when he gets burnt. 

Somehow you always manage to catch him, finding out from someone, perhaps from Drake, Brown, or Todd, about all the reckless actions he did during the mission he went on. Remember the Amazo suit mission he had with Super Boy? You were waiting at his and Super Boy’s hide out the day after it was over. The incident at Lazarus Island? He never wanted to die so much as he did when he had to endure your motherly wrath in front of Suren and Maya. Twice, in fact, after he chased the two that snickered at him during the whole session with his katana.

“Mr. Damian Thomas Wayne-“ is not where you stop. Your grip on his ear is surprisingly strong, where he can’t get you to let go no matter how much he struggles from pure resolve to have him stay where he is. His family had once laughed when he told them how terrifying this skill was, only you in possession of it to his knowledge. Now they, too, fear it having experienced it when they tried to thwart his very much valid and warranted concerns once in front of you. 

“You need to apologize to them, not me! And-Hold on! What do you think you’re doing? Don’t use psychosis! Actually say sorry to them!” 

There’s distraught written all over the vigilante’s face. They aren’t given the choice to choose seeing you don’t budge, leading them to childishly stomp their way towards their fellow teammate, grumbling all the way. They could’ve not listened to you and retaliated back if they really wanted to. Unfortunately, for him, it seems that they want to be in your good grace. Something along the lines of being your friend. Too bad, he disapproves. They’ve been too chummy with you the past few days for his liking and need to be taught the bare requirements to be close to you.

[eregyrn-falls]

ID. A series of screenshots from a tiktok by @ morkanslil_y.

First: a screenshot of a tweet from @ PsychosMarket of the background of the kid Stans' room from ATOTS. The tweet is captioned, "Oh."

@ 161qura replies with a very close-up image of the Lincoln Logs house on the floor of their room, with the caption, "ford built thr house he and stan dreamed of... fuck"

Over top of this screenshot is a caption, "ford modeling his house after an old house he and stan made". (That text appears to be added by morkanslil_y in the tiktok video, but it's unclear.)

Second: a screenshot from "The Time Traveler's Pig", showing the early Shack in winter, when Ford owned it. It's clearly the same shape as the Lincoln Logs house.

Third: a screenshot from "Carpet Diem" of Dipper in bed in Ford's old room. Dipper has taken the large painting of the tall ship (that hung over his bed in the attic), and put it on the wall. Over the screenshot is the text, "all the mentions of boats and pirate adventures in his room".

Fourth: a screenshot from ATOTS, a close-up of the wall in the kid Stans' room. It shows a model sailing ship, and a pirate treasure map hanging on the wall, as well as a ship's wheel leaning against the wall.

Fifth: a screenshot of younger Ford in Gravity Falls, looking down at the open Journal in his hands. (It's from his narration of finding the Cipher Wheel, in Weirdmageddon Pt. 3.). Over the screenshot is the text, "not to mention in J3 he helps stan remember their old memories with videotapes from their childhood. they must've been kept in PRISTINE condition for decades."

Below, on the same image, the text says: "Even after everything that happened to them, he refused to throw memories of his brother away; subconsciously thinking of him in every decision, every choice."

Sixth: a screenshot from Weirdmageddon Pt. 3, of Dipper holding Stan's hand as they enter the Shack, after Stan has lost his memory. Over the screenshot is the text, "How painful it must be to love, and deny that same love you hold dearly for your family even after you become strangers?"

Finally, at the bottom of the image, the text says (at a larger size and in all caps): "Yall downplay how much Ford loves his family bro the Pines make me so ill" (followed by two crying emojis).

End ID.

(I've often thought about this, and somewhere, never finished, I have gathered images to do some meta on how Ford is actually a very sentimental man, as evidenced by things he has around the Shack. So I'm not adding the next two details to disagree with the post or the tiktok's points.)

I just wanted to add two small corrections:

One, that the evidence of the painting of the tall ship, as seen in Ford's old room in the screenshot in the post, isn't a good piece of evidence for him having mentions/evidence of pirates and boats in his room. The tall ship painting hung over Dipper's be in the attic, and was only seen in Ford's old room briefly in "Carpet Diem", when Dipper moved it there when he claimed it briefly as his room. The painting gets moved back when he goes back to the attic.

(You can argue whether the painting was acquired by Ford, or by Stan. It's pretty unclear. I do like to think of it as having been Ford's though.)

Two, the mention that Ford helped Stan regain his memories with videotapes from their childhood, which must have been kept in pristine condition. This mistake doesn't surprise me, but -- videotapes weren't invented until long after their childhood. I think this was just an unconscious assumption by the maker of the video. In Journal 3, it just says "home movies", and Dipper's drawing includes a reel-to-reel film projector. THAT is the technology they would have had when they were kids!

Those can last for decades, but they do have to be stored carefully, and treated carefully. (They had a tendency to break, but if they did, you could physically splice them together and still play them.).

So the point stands! Ford kept those, and somehow kept them in good shape (despite heat, humidity, and cold in the cabin). He would have had to go to some effort to keep them able to be played in 2013.

I saw this on tiktok and I want to kill myself!! Ford haters stay LOSING!!!!!!!

He loves very deeply!! You guys are just mean to him!!!!!!

[yurikosinterlude]

heyy!!!

can you write headcannons for katsuki bakugou having a crush on you??

thanks!!

❁ katsuki bakugo wasn't the type to have "crushes", he didn't think anyone was good enough for him. it was as simple as that. atleast, it was that simple until you came along. ���

❁ cw: {fluff, gn!reader} ❁

admirer!bakugo who is a classic example of "he's mean to you because he likes you"

admirer!bakugo who'll wear a specific cologne everyday to school just because you complimented it one time

admirer!bakugo who keeps every pencil/pen you've let him borrow and will pretend he lost it when you ask just so that he can keep pieces of you

admirer!bakugo who'll come up to you and pester you for food/snacks just to find an excuse to talk to you (if he does end up actually getting food, odds are kirishima and denki eat it all before bakugo can even take a bite o(╥﹏╥)o)

admirer!bakugo who draws your initials on his hands/arms in black pen whenever he's bored in class.

admirer!bakugo who'll call all of your interests 'nerdy' and 'weird', only to secretly have all of them written down in his notes app along with a bunch of your other favorite things

admirer!bakugo who wakes up early every morning just to walk to school with you and rant to you about school and his life at home (he has to do this in the mornings so that he can be mysterious and nonchalant at school)

admirer!bakugo who'll throw a fit to the bakusquad whenever he does something even remotely 'embarrassing' around you

admirer!bakugo who stalks your playlists and secretly listens to them while he studies and works out so that he gets you more interested in him when he talks about your favorite bands and artists

admirer!bakugo who always asks you to work out together just to show how strong he is so you fall in love with him

admirer!bakugo who'll act all emo and upset for a whole day if your vibe towards him changes or if you slightly raise your voice to him

admirer!bakugo who will continually and aggressively deny anyone who asks if he has a crush on you (he's lying through his teeth)

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Taglist: @hisuiaa

yurikosinterlude ©️ 2024 ❁ pls don't plagiarize, copy, repost, or translate my works at all ❁ (or atleast without creds :3)