#but also i fear locking myself in to one thing if i hate it and its too late to change
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Sometimes I think I need to be medicated but at the same time I felt like lexapro didn't do shit except crash my libido and give me a concussion cold turkey-ing it
#cold turkey bc i was in chicago and ran out of prescription like i was cutting the pills in half#also to see the effect ngl...#like idk my psychiatrist was weird she tried bumping it up and slapping borderline personality on me just bc depression anxiety comorbid#then again i just didnt trust her in general#i was only on it for like a few months and she wanted to bump up#well now im not on it all but maybe i should try again idfk#problem is I like to logic out my emotional issues#so i feel like my depression/anxiety etc is more of a product of not having a purpose in life#if i had some goals and school/career in sight id be okay I think#but also i fear locking myself in to one thing if i hate it and its too late to change#i need more jack of all trades master of none careers so i feel stimulated and worthwhile#considering teaching bc i LOVED ta'ing and being a lab tech in college#somehow more paranoid about teaching hs than college#idk#🎁
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red velvet hearts.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/818fb132b2d49f8a3d75dcbeb03bfec8/812830d9845b5db7-b8/s540x810/fa1d7be2878b558914e342744a26aba5d91c497e.jpg)
pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader
genre: fluff, slight angst
word count: 7.7k
synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.
author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3
warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama
playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift
RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU
“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.”
“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier.
“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”
“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes.
“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely.
You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson.
“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly.
“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.”
“I was handling things just fine on my own.”
“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state.
You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.”
The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention.
By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support.
Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.
Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw.
“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers.
“You don’t look―”
As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.
After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?”
You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck.
And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod.
.
.
.
Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer.
Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip.
When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood.
“That was…delicious,” he breathes.
“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.”
“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs.
“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.”
Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together.
He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw.
Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes.
“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly.
“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.”
“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks:
“So, you’re hiring?”
You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.
“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question.
Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up.
“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”
“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias.
Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.
“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand.
You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say:
“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?”
It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries.
“I’d love nothing more.”
Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu.
He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling.
RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE
“Are you out of your mind?”
You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.”
“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”
“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!”
“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses.
“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?”
Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”
“What?”
“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice.
“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”
“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”
“So, when do I get to meet him―”
You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup.
You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking.
“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly.
“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.”
Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.”
You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.”
“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows.
You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.”
“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.”
His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in.
But you don’t.
“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.”
And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you.
He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him.
Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday.
“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth.
“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly.
“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand.
“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.”
The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.
“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease.
His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?”
“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.”
It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck.
“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh.
“Pretty lame, right?”
“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.”
Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.”
“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently.
He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”
That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?”
He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.”
There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length.
“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!”
“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.
“Of course. Who else would I go with?”
“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately.
“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain.
“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.”
“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms.
“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile.
“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him.
He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.”
“That doesn’t sound―”
“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?”
“...Seven.”
.
.
.
Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property.
“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.”
“You got it, Captain.” He salutes.
You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you.
Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along.
“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.”
He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt.
“Oh my God, your face!”
“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.”
“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.”
“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes.
“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice.
Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself.
You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you.
“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression
“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile.
“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod.
“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.”
“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”
“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.”
You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here.
“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh.
“Why?”
You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you.
“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.”
Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction.
“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.”
He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that.
“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.”
Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away.
He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever.
“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.”
You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself?
You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair.
You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway.
.
.
.
“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table.
Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.”
“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice.
Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it.
“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms.
“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.”
“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”
“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.”
“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.”
“I’ll help,” he insists.
“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.”
He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”
“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”
“What? A blueberry pie?”
Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.
“Peace.”
And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too.
RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF
It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t.
You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now.
He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him.
You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay.
“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.
“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes.
“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee.
She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold.
Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too.
“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?”
Maybe because he has, you want to tell her.
Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.
“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away.
You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself.
However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be.
.
.
.
The cream puffs aren’t rising.
You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise.
But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t.
You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff.
“Y/N, they’re burning.”
Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp.
“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs.
“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.”
He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it.
Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?”
When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?”
His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch.
“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.”
He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.”
“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?”
“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly.
“Do you treat all your friends like that?”
“When I don’t want to see them.”
You wait for him to continue.
“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”
He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him.
But he steps back.
“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.”
“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly.
“I probably should,” he answers shakily.
“What’s stopping you?”
“Just…one reason.”
“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.”
Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.
“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.”
When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back.
“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.”
RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE
When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all.
And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you.
You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself.
However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless.
So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check.
“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.”
You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly.
“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.”
Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first.
When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take.
The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about―
And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way.
“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.”
You stare at him, still not sure how to react.
“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”
Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting.
“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?”
You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―”
Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.
When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath.
“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.”
He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?”
“What?”
Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare.
“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.
You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich.
“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”
“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.
“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up.
“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again.
And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.
Peace.
EXTRA
“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?”
Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone.
“Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Because I’m curious.”
“If I answer, will you let me rest?”
“Depends on how good your answer is.”
“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.”
You smile against the crook of his neck.
“Why?”
“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.”
#nct imagines#nct scenarios#haechan fluff#haechan angst#nct dream fluff#nct dream angst#nct 127 fluff#nct 127 angst#nct 127 imagines#haechan#nct#choerrypuffs
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Meet the Minds
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/8ec18b373079a5475e0f32e407594ebe/06c17215ba2cd4fe-87/s540x810/c19ff846168289f82ffb4c8923ba3c46634fbb62.jpg)
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Summary: 4 years after that one time in a bar, on how your character Criminal Minds was born, and maybe how something else was also borned. Pairing: mgg x actress!reader Genre: friends to lovers?, fluff, mutual pinning TW: Public Scrutiny/Fame, reader has severally parents issues, plus they are passive aggressive but it's short i swear, brief mention of cheating, mgg takes a minute to appear i know im sorry, long introduction wc: 3.7k! A/N: hopefully someone will understand what I'm aiming for with both of my dear !readers, this is with the solely purpose to treat myself i fear Masterlist!
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Since that one time in a bar it has been 4 years. Your show City Lights has gotten big. And when you say big, it was BIG, and so did you.
You were wrapping up the third season of the show, with a renewed contract for the next season in hand and a few promising movie proposals. In the past four years, you and your friends have become famous. Not A-list famous, but enough that if any of you went out, someone would recognize you, or a few paparazzi might follow your every move.
The four of you had lived in the same apartment in New York ever since filming started on location. HBO wanted your friendship to feel authentic for the cameras, and boy, were you grateful for that… because they had become your true best friends—not just on TV, but in real life.
It was Ashley, Jack and Nathan. Something that always happens when you start a show and it gets views it’s that the whole crew becomes a big family. In the middle of the second season, you finally mustered the courage to ask the showrunner, Jeff Davis, if you could join the writers' table to pitch some ideas for your character. He agreed, and since then, some of the best storylines on the show had come from your contributions.
The thing was, your name brought in big numbers, and it had caught the attention of producers and showrunners alike. Criminal Minds had premiered a year ago, gained some traction, but they wanted to take it to the next level. So Jeff, the same creator of your show, called you and your agent to see if you could join the cast.
There were two problems. First, your schedule was already packed. Moving to L.A. for the shoot wasn’t an option—City Lights had you locked in for the fourth season, and there was a possibility you'd land the lead in a promising film. On top of that, you were still taking college classes from a foreign university at your parents' insistence. So, being a recurring character was out of the question.
Second, when they handed you the script, you hated the character. They wanted you to be the fan favorite, Spencer Reid’s love interest, and while you had no problem with that, the character itself didn’t sit right with you. She was this sweet, innocent woman, one who was a victim from one unsub, and Spencer, an addict, would find redemption through her. He’d get sober and everything would be perfectly happy. You thought it was dull.
For starters, you knew how controversial it would be for her to become his personal recovery center, but you also saw the potential in the character. So, you asked if you could rewrite her into something more dynamic, something with more depth. Given the trust Jeff had in you, he gave you free rein to make the changes.
“How’s it going?” Jack, one of your best friends and a Criminal Minds fan, asked, entering the living room.
“A surprisingly moving amount of absolute nothing,” you said jokingly, staring at the blank space.
“Oh, come on, dude! We’ve watched some of the episodes together! You know the vibe,” he said, sitting down on the couch beside you.
“Well, I know the vibe, I just don’t know how to write it.” you said throwing your hands to the air in a comically exasperated way.
“Well, I know the vibe, I just don’t know how to write it,” you said, dramatically throwing your hands in the air, exasperated.
“Guess who’s gone viral again!” Nathan breezed into the room, flashing you a grin. He played your love interest on City Lights, and the fans went wild for your on-screen chemistry. But the truth was, you two were nothing more than really good friends. There was no romance, just a strong, platonic bond.
“Ugh... please tell me it’s for the right reasons.” You shut your eyes and let your head flop back against the couch.
Nathan tossed you his phone, then leaned casually on the backrest of the couch, Jack scooting closer to get a better look.
“What is it? Another red sauce scandal?” you asked, scrunching your nose at the thought.
Let me tell you something: becoming famous at 17 or 18 leaves you with a digital footprint that you'll wish you could erase by the time you’re 23.
He handed you his phone, showing a new release from Austin, your ex-boyfriend. The song title was painfully obvious—"Still Stuck on You." The lyrics left no room for interpretation, and the message hit you like a ton of bricks. Austin had written another song about you, and this time, he made it clear.
“Oh, you've got to be kidding me! This is like the third one this year!” Your mouth hung open in disbelief as Jack, who had burst out laughing, took the phone from your hands and started scrolling through the Twitter comments.
He had been your “boyfriend” four years ago, but only for PR purposes. When you found out he’d cheated, you broke up with him. He begged and cried, and it was pathetic. Since then, Austin had turned your brief relationship into his whole persona. He released songs that were painfully obvious about you, dated women who looked eerily like you, and spent interviews throwing shade, spreading lies, all for attention. The problem? You were skyrocketing, gaining fame in ways he could never have predicted, and he—well, he was still stuck on you.
Your phone started ringing somewhere around the apartment, a FaceTime call vibrating through the cushions. You rummaged through the pillows on the couch, cursing under your breath as you came up empty.
“Seriously, how do you always lose it?” Nathan said, appearing behind you with a smirk. He found your phone wedged between the couch cushions and handed it to you just as you answered the call. As he did, you reached into your back pocket, pulling out a dollar bill and placing it in his open hand.
See, you had a special talent for losing your phone around the house, and your friends turned it into a game. Every time you misplaced it and one of them found it, you owed them a dollar.
“Bitch have you seen it?!” Ashley squealed from your phone, her voice laced with urgency.
“It's like jumpscare! you know it’s coming but it’s always surprisingly disappointing!” you replied, rolling your eyes.
“Somebody said, ‘Are you writing a memoir or just trying to hit the ‘most dramatic ex’ award this year?’” You all chuckled at Jack’s reading.
“Gotta go, some stylist is calling me. Love ya, bye!” Ashley hung up quickly, going back to her photoshoot, leaving you to shake your head and wish her good luck.
Jack kept giggling at the comments, lost in the chaos of Austin’s latest stunt. Meanwhile, you stared blankly at your screen, the cursor blinking mockingly back at you.
Nathan gave you a playful shove. “You know what’s really offensive? The tempo on that track. It’s like he’s trying to be edgy but doesn’t understand how syncopation works.”
“Hmm, well, what else could you expect? Maybe you should make your own song about it, something with a real sense of rhythm,” You said absently, still staring at the screen, the cursor blinking in a never-ending challenge.
“And you should start writing that, maybe throw in a little revenge of your own,” he said, nudging his chin toward the computer screen with a grin. You frowned at him, your gaze drifting back to the cursor as you considered his words.
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You were studying—actually studying—sitting in the mini studio with notes scattered in front of you, calculator by your side, silently frustrated as you tried to make sense of the numbers. Ashley was on the other side of the desk in front of you, pacing and memorizing her lines, back and forth, her voice echoing in the room. Your grip tightened on your pencil, eyes flicking over the work in front of you, when your phone buzzed. Another message.
"We’ve heard about your 'plans,' but it’s hard to take them seriously when you can’t commit. It’s cute to 'explore options,' but at some point, you’ll have to stop playing around and think about your future. Don’t you want to be taken seriously?"
Maybe it was the sound of your phone tapping against the wood of the table, or the way your hand instinctively went to your eyes, trying to stop the threatening tears, that tipped Ashley off. She paused, looking up from her lines, eyes narrowing as she caught the shift in your mood, as she made it to your way, reading the message still open on your phone that had already sunk in, the familiar sting.
Ashley didn’t hesitate. She pulled you into a hug, still standing while you were sat, one arm wrapping around your shoulders tightly as she murmured, "Fuck them. Seriously. You don’t need their crap." She squeezed you harder, as if to prove the point. "You're better than any of that. Don’t let their bullshit get to you." Her voice was fierce, a protective edge in every word.
The relationship with your parents was complicated, to say the least. You'd tried to make them proud, but it was never enough. Now, more than ever, you’d rebel when you chose to become an actress. It felt ridiculous—like you were still studying against your will, trying to prove something you didn’t even want to.
"I mean, what the fuck will it take for them to take me seriously? A fucking Oscar? Have some damn patience—I’m working on it," you spat, voice shaky, leaning into Ashley as tears threatened to spill.
She sighed, pulling you in a little tighter. “Fuck them,” she muttered, her voice low but firm. “They don’t get it, and honestly, they probably never will. But you’ve got this. You’re doing something they can’t even begin to understand. Don’t let their bullshit get to you.”
You let out a bitter chuckle. “Well, at least it wasn’t a call. I swear it’s pathetic how every time I get mad, I just cry.”
Ashley pulled you into a tight hug, her voice soft but firm. “Forget about them for a second, okay? You don’t need to study right now. You’ve been working your ass off. Take a break. You’re allowed to feel pissed off without worrying about your grades for a few minutes.” She pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “You’re doing your best, and that’s all that matters.”
With a last shaky breath and wiping away the tears that had escaped, you nodded. Ashley sighed, her voice soft but firm. “Hey, enough with the studying for now. You’ve been pushing yourself way too hard. Wanna get cute and go out for some coffee?” She gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You deserve a break.”
You chuckled, truly this time, and shook your head. "Maybe later. You finish with your lines, and I’ll… go grab some snacks," she nodded, giving you a smile, picking up the forgotten script.
You were still shaken, even frustrated at how powerless you felt around your parents, and how you reacted to your feelings. You cried, and sometimes words became hard to find. You wished you could scream and destroy everything, just let it all out, like those female rage characters, but for now, you were left in silence.
Which gave you an idea.
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That’s how you ended up creating your character—in a fully cathartic, all-nighter frenzy, shaping her with layers of meaning. Like her nickname, “Woody,” a nod to Nathan’s favorite movie, Toy Story—a little inside joke, a quiet way of taking revenge in your own way.
She was everything you weren’t, and at the same time, everything you were.
And then there was her best friend, Austin—played by Jack, of course, since he was a huge fan of the show—who you took every opportunity to be mean to, just for the fun of it.
You’d never admit it, but the line “Austin is not my boyfriend”? Yeah, that had a little extra bite to it. A double meaning, if you will.
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The producers loved it. The depth of your character, how dark her storyline was. Because if you really want to keep the audience engaged? Give them two characters who are absolutely perfect for each other—but can’t be together.
And when the idea of adding Jack came up, they agreed immediately. What’s better than one City Lights star joining the show? Two City Lights stars.
But they had asked you to keep the secret from everyone, including the current cast. Who you'll be meeting and revealing your characters to in the table reading
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Jack and you were currently at ABC’s costume department, standing in front of a mirror while the costume designer and a wardrobe assistant made final adjustments to your outfits.
“Man, I’m boiling in here,” you groaned, peeling off the red shirt as the wardrobe assistant jotted down notes about the fit.
Jack, meanwhile, admired himself in the mirror, dramatically flipping back the leather jacket he was trying on. “Do I look tough? Like, would you trust me with your deepest, darkest secret?” He smirked, striking a pose straight out of an action movie.
The costume designer, pinning a hem on your sleeve, barely glanced up. “You look like an extra in a bad '90s biker film.”
“You look like you're about to challenge a middle schooler to a dance battle,” you added, crossing your arms.
Jack gasped, clutching his chest. “Wow. Zero faith in me.”
“More like zero intimidation factor” You said from the changing room, a few moments later, you stepped out wearing a white shirt and black vest, and flashed Jack a playful grin. “So, do I finally look like the child my parents can brag about?” you joked, adjusting the vest slightly.
The wardrobe assistant shot you a thumbs up, clearly impressed with the fit.
“Are you maxing out someone's card again?” A voice asked behind you.
You turned around to see Matthew grinning. You chuckled, scrambling for a response. “Well… I’m not legally allowed to talk about it,” you said, cringing internally.
Man, you were awkward without alcohol in your veins.
He chuckled, stepping closer to pull you into a brief hug in greeting. You’d already worked together on The Beauty Inside, so the familiarity was there—comfortable, easy, playful even.
“So what are you doing here?” He asked.
“Ummm well..” You turned to Jack with panic in your eyes. Jack, ever the performer, didn’t miss a beat. “We’re actually here to stage a heist. High-stakes, top secret.” He waggled his eyebrows.
You groaned, shoving his shoulder. “We’re doing costume fittings.”
Matthew raised a brow, clearly amused. “Costume fittings, huh?” His gaze flickered to the wardrobe racks surrounding you. “For something unannounced?”
You hesitated, your lips pressing into a thin line. “I plead the fifth.”
Jack threw an arm around your shoulders. “She’s under strict secrecy orders, but between us?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “It 's big.”
“Jaaack,” you warned, dragging out the 'a' in a clear sign for him to be careful.
“Well, if you’re in it, I bet it is,” he said, smirking at you.
You chuckled, clearing your throat. “Soo, what are you doing here?”
“Well, this is kinda where I work,” he said with a shrug teasing. Right. This was where the cast of Criminal Minds did their fittings, although the producers had made sure you were not scheduled together to avoid leaks.
You raised an eyebrow, looking around the room. "Here? In the costume department?"
He grinned, clearly enjoying your confusion. "Yep, I mean, what else would I be doing here? Getting my wardrobe ready for my big role?" he added, his tone mock-serious. “What are you supposed to be, by the way? A real estate agent? I bet you’re just one property listing away from a deal of the century,” he said, eyeing your clothes.
You chuckled again. “No, um… I’m actually a very boring banker,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much. Like get a hold of yourself girlie, he’s just a tall, handsome man, with nice hair and curls and pretty eyes, and gentle. Somebody, hand me a glass of water, or wine, whichever is easier.
The costume designer called your name, already holding more clothes in her hands. "We need to finish these adjustments, sweetheart."
You nodded, trying to shake off the distraction. "Right, I’ll be right there."
Matthew smirked, taking it as his cue to leave. "I guess I'll let you continue. Good luck being a banker," he teased, giving you one last look.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "Thanks, Matthew," you said, turning toward the designer as he walked off.
Jack, who had been quietly observing from the corner, chimed in with a grin. "Yeah, because nothing says ‘big role’ like a banker in slacks."
You shot him a playful glare. "Oh shut up, Johnny Bravo," you joked, laughing as he dramatically posed in response.
.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳.
The producers stood at the front of the room, their eyes scanning the assembled cast. There was a buzz in the air—everyone was settling in, ready for the read-through to begin. After a quick round of hellos and some introductions, one of the producers, a tall woman with a clipboard, stood up to speak.
“Alright, everyone, before we dive in, we have a very exciting addition to the cast today. You’re about to meet someone who is going to bring a lot of depth and intensity to the world of Criminal Minds.” The showrunner smiled at you, saying your names and introducing the new character you’d be bringing to life.
Jack, sitting beside you, was doing his best to keep his cool, but the way he gripped his script gave him away. His knuckles were turning white from how tightly he held the pages, and you couldn’t help but smirk. Leaning toward him, you whispered, “That’s not bubble wrap.”
His eyes flicked to yours, and he whisper-shouted, “That’s Mandy Patinkin sitting right there. Do you have any idea how my mom would react if she were here?”
You chuckled under your breath, keeping your eyes on the table. Across from you, Matthew sat diagonally, flipping through the script with a furrowed brow. When he glanced up, he shot you a mock-offended look and mouthed, “Liar.”
You choked back a laugh, quickly mouthing “Sorry” with a small shrug just as the producers began reading.
.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳.
The reading session had concluded, and you were chatting with Paget about how much you had loved her in Friends. Meanwhile, Jack was across the room, subtly—well, not so subtly—trying to get an autograph from Mandy.
From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Matthew making his way toward you, but pretended not to notice, keeping your attention on Paget. You had a feeling he was about to make some kind of remark, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of expecting it.
“You should be careful with her, she lied to me and told me she was going to be some boring banker,” he finally said, warning Paget with a smirk,
You turned to him with an unimpressed look. “I’ll take that as I’m good at my job”
Paget raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Oh, so she tricked you? That’s embarrassing, Gubler.”
Matthew placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. “I was misled! Deceived! Here I was, thinking I had met a perfectly normal, unassuming banker, only to find out she’s infiltrating our world.”
She laughed and patted his shoulder before the showrunner called her, leaving you alone with him.
“Nice shoes, by the way,” he said, looking down at your mismatched Converse—one deep red and the other black, matching your red top.
You chuckled. “Thanks. People keep making fun of me on the internet, saying I must've rushed out of the house.”
He laughed and pulled up his pants, revealing his mismatched socks—one purple with yellow dots and the other blue with bananas. “Well, that’s because they’re boring.”
“Oh God, they’re so cool,” you genuinely liked how bizarre they were.
“Hey, I saw your name on the last page of the credits... Did you write those episodes?” he asked, kind of amazed.
“Well, I um... added some minor stuff, really,” you said, lying a little. “Just to make her more sarcastic and fun… like, I can’t wait to get covered in blood for the shots.”
He laughed just as Jack reappeared, clutching his freshly signed Mandy Patinkin autograph like it was the Holy Grail. “I blacked out for half of that conversation, but I think I played it cool.”
“Yeah, sure, if you say so.” You were about to say something more when a producer called for both of you.
With an apologetic smile, you said goodbye to Matthew, but before you turned around, he called out, “Can I get your number this time, or do I have to wish we get cast together again?”
You laughed, shaking your head as you handed him your number. “I guess I’ll wait for your call.”
“You better pick up. There are some scenes I think will need some rehearsal.” His words made your stomach flip, and a flush crept up your face.
Pressing your lips together to stop yourself from smiling too much, you retorted, “You better be quick. My schedule is full.” That made him chuckle.
The producer called for you again, and you made your way toward him and Jack, still feeling the warmth of the moment lingering. You once promised yourself to not-date-coworkers. Maybe if those coworkers weren’t so funny and handsome you wouldn’t reconsider your own words.
.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳.
If you want to find out more about the CM character click here!
Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3
#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#matthew gray gubler#mgg#mgg x reader#mgg x you
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I want more platonic stobin and bisexualy disaster Steve and gay disaster Eddie in my life. So I wrote some :)
Steve wanted to scream as he tried the handle again. "Steve. Steve!" Robin pulled him away from the door. "They aren't opening the door, and you're just gonna break the handle. Keith already hates your guts. Don't make it worse." She pointed out, weirdly calm about all of this. "Plus, it's not like we don't share space normally." She says and sinks down to the floor, tugging him down with her.
Steve looked at the door, "Why can't they accept that we're only ever going to be platonic?" He asks and runs a ran through his hair. He was sick of this. Of the comments and the teasing. It stresses him out.
They kept pushing the two of them together, and Steve was worried that it could mess up what friendship he had with Robin. Because Steve's used to messing up and hurting someone, and he really doesn't want to hurt Robin. He has nightmares of outing her by accident and ruining her life. It terrifies him.
"Steve, come on, it's okay. It's just a stupid bathroom. We've shared a bathroom stall. This is bigger than that." She jokes, and he pulls his knees up to his chest.
"I can't do this, Rob." He admits and watches her freeze. Her walls climbed up like he said something really stupid. "I'm sorry, but I'm just-"
She cuts him off, "I get it. You don't want to deal with the backlash of being a lesbian's friend." She says, and he blinks.
"What? No! I don't want to say the wrong thing. I get bitchy when I'm annoyed and I'm easily annoyed when I'm stressed. And I'm stressed! So I don't - I can't be the one to out you. I can't mess that up for you." He says, and it's nice to finally admit his fears.
Robin blinks at him, "That's what- Steve, that's what bothers you about all this?"
Steve nods, "I mess up everything I touch. I can't do that to you, I won't do that to you. Honestly, you should probably find better friends. One who thinks with his brai-"
"Shut up." Robin snaps, and he stops speaking. Looking at her with wide eyes. "You can't talk about my best friend that way. I won't let you," She states.
"You're best friend?"
Her eyes soften, "yeah dingus. Who else would be my best friend? We're soulmates," She decides, and he's confused because she sounds like she means it. "Platonic, with a capital p, soulmates."
He swallows back a ball of emotion, "even if all the kids I babysit-"
"Mother."
"Babysit," he stresses, and she smiles. "Try to get us together at every opportunity and won't believe that we aren't in love. Or that I'm in love with you at the least. I think you're better off because you call me dingus more than my name," he mused.
Robin sighed, "I won't say that it's not annoying. But I'm used to dodging questions about boys, and this way... with you, I have someone to be myself with. That's more important to me than some stupid preteens who think locking us in a bathroom would get us together."
Steve smiles, "last time we shared a bathroom did go pretty well, honestly." She knocked her knee into his. He glanced over at the door. "Do you think they'll give up?"
Robin snorts, "Dustin's more invested in your love life than you are. I don't think he'll give up unless you're dating someone else or the truth comes out."
Steve sighed, chewing his lower lip until something clicked in his head. "What If I come out?"
Robin blinked, "you- what?"
Steve nodded, "I mean I like both but I could just say I favor guys." He shrugs, "it's not like they could disprove it since it's mostly true."
Robin stared at him, "Steve... since when did you- what? Steve oh my god," She shifted onto her knees and slammed into him. "Since fucking when! Why didn't you ever tell me!"
Steve raised an eyebrow, "what do you mean since when? I literally point out hot guys all the time! When we watched watched Rocky Horror, I said Tim Curry was sexy!"
She shook his shoulders, "you did no such thing! You ask if I also think a guy is hot and you said- oh." It clicks for her and she falls back on her ass. She covers her face, "holy shit."
Steve smirks, "holy shit."
A giggle escapes her lips, "you so have a type."
"Shut up," he groans.
But before they can really dig into it, there's a loud knock on the door. "We're gonna open the door in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!" The door swings in a Dustin's hand is over his eyes like he's gonna be scarred at the sight of them.
"We're literally just sitting on the floor Henderson. Not having freaky bathroom sex," Steve rolls his eyes and stands, Robin following suit.
Dustin looks upset like he expect his plan to work. "I don't get it." Steve ruffles his hair as he passes the kid. Robin lets out a small laugh as she stretches her limbs like she had been stuck in there for more than just 15 minutes. Steve turns, and she locks eyes with him, a silent question.
"Kid, I've said this a million times, but I'll say it one more time." He glances at the other kids that had either always been there or gotten here at some point since he'd been locked into the bathroom. "Robin and I will never date. She and I have no romantic feelings for each other. And if you pull this shit when we're at work again, I'll kill you."
"It's not like it was hard to figure out how to check someone out," Max shrugged and Steve huffed at her nonchalant grin from behind the counter.
Steve ushers the kids out from behind the counter before taking his normal spot, looking around at the empty store. Robin moves and bumps shoulders with him. "Platonic feelings only." She gestures between them.
Dustin groan, "I just don't get why!"
Steve glances at Robin, "because I'm too gay for her." He states and everyone goes quiet. "Honestly boobies are so high school." He winks at Robin who looks at him like he's bravely stupid.
"Wait but you dated Nancy?" Mike questioned arms over his chest.
Steve rolled his eyes, "so? I am more picky on who I date. Doesn't matter the gender. Robin doesn't tick my boxes."
"But she should!" Dustin complains and Robin groans.
But then Steve sees someone in the windows, heading towards the doors to Family video. "My type is more," and he just gestures just as the door dings to call their attention to the newcomer.
Eddie Munson glances at the kids and then at Steve. "Sheepies," he says. Eyebrows raised in confusion at the eyes on him. Eddie glanced at Steve, "Harrington, you break the kids?" He asks as all the kids continue to stare at him as he moves to the horror section.
Steve waves his hand, like he can brush off the confusion. "Nah, they're just shocked that I'm not completely in love with Birdie over here."
Everyone's jaw is on the floor as Steve leans his arms on the counter, not even bothering to hide the way he checks Eddie out when the man looks away. "Right," Eddie sighs and grabs a movie. "Well, not everyone's type is jocks." Eddie teases slightly, having warmed up to Steve little by little when Steve picks the kids up from Hellfire.
Steve takes the movie from Eddie, giving him his one free movie he gets for the week and hands it back to Eddie without charging him. "I'll win ya over." He winks, and Eddie's eyes go a little wide.
Eyes glanced around like he could ask if anyone else saw that. "Um, well, yeah, how-how much for the-"
"Consider it on me." Steve waved his hand and then leaned more into Eddie's space, "I haven't seen this one yet."
Eddie swallows, "You should check it out. It's, uh, pretty good."
Steve smiles, "I'm shit with horror, maybe if I had someone to hold my hand through it." He sighs overdramatically, then snaps, "Oh, I know! If you're not busy we could watch it together. I mean, it seems like a scary metalhead like yourself would be capable of holding my hand through the jump scares."
Eddie's eyes are blinking rapidly, "it's for the boys." He says, looking lost. Steve frowns, and Eddie jumps into action, "But I could-" He stops himself and groans. "I've got to- plans- fuck-" He stumbles and practically smacks into the door in his rush to leave family video.
Steve sighs and leans his head down on the counter. Robin pats his back, "I miss my whiteboard." She sighs and he looks up to glare at her.
#eddie screams in his pillow when he gets home#gareth calls him pathetic#jeff just tells him how much he fucked up not ditching them to hang out with steve#because have you seen steve?#dustin begins to start to plot how to get steve and eddie together not long after this#platonic stobin#steddie#stranger things#knightly talks#pre steddie
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lust
miguel o’hara x reader smut
im actually genuinely obsessed and deeply worried about my mental health . the grip spiderman 2099 has on me is unwavering and im afraid i will never get to escape
contains: breeding, marking/biting, office sex, spontaneous sex, stress relief sex fr, clawing, size difference, slightly jealous miguel, very dominating miguel, im obsessed with miguel, a more in character miguel this time i hope
A deep sigh escapes your throat. You really did not have to deal with O’hara right now; it’s been a long day. Sure, you were thankful he allowed you to stay in the spider society occasionally, despite just being a normal civilian, but god did he aggravate you. Often. He called you to his office for god knows what reason. You were anxious as you entered the office. Anyone in their right mind would be.
He gazes down at you, his stare is cold and his face is stoic. “Glad you could make it,” his tone is hard to read. He didn’t sound upset. But he also didn’t sound glad to see you. You keep quiet, deciding to just let him speak. His eyes are piercing through the dimly lit room; the sun was setting so the sky didn’t do much in terms of lighting the room up. Miguel continues to glare down at you, silent and judgmental. Instead of just allowing his platform to slowly make its way down to you, Miguel simply lunges down to you. He stands before you, still towering over you. His lack of communication was making you anxious as he would usually tear someone in here a new one if need be. He silently slips his arm around your waist and shoots a web up, bringing you both up to where his desk is located.
After being set down you recompose yourself with a chuckle. “I’m- I’m never gonna get used to that..” You pause for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. Heat radiated off your body and Miguel’s too. He still had his arm around you and you were too locked in place by a mix of fear and shock to move. “What is it that you wanted to see me about?” You look up at him.
He exhaled. He felt like he needed that. “This- This isn’t easy.. to admit,” Miguel mumbles. The claws of his suit had a grip on your waist, but you were still too paralyzed by shock to do anything. “I.. I want you all to myself. If I could keep you up here all to myself without seeming insane, I would, in a heartbeat.” He looks down at you, his eyes locking with yours.
This was absolutely news to you. You yourself had a thing for Miguel for the longest time. But you had no idea he wanted you this bad. Your mouth sat agape as he spoke to you. The Miguel O’hara.. wants you? All to himself? You would hang out with him while he worked sometimes, but you definitely didn’t see this kind of thing coming, especially not from someone as professional as him.
He turns to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. His gaze was fiery and he dug his claws into your shoulders. “You’re just.. such a relaxer to me. When you’re around, I don’t worry about all of.. this,” he motions to his desk. “But you.. you. You make it all better.” A growl rumbles in this throat. “I have a request- a-a suggestion maybe.”
Your jaw still hangs open. You shut your jaw and blink repeatedly. “What.. do you have in mind?”
A flash of excitement streaks across his face. “Sex,” he blatantly stated. He didn’t try to sugar coat it or anything. He wanted to fuck you more than anything. Even now, seeing you look up at him like that, in utter shock as he grips your shoulders has his cock aching. “I’m so.. so tired of seeing you with other spidermen. I need you.”
You paused, completely baffled. “Y-Yes!” You cried out, a little too eager for your liking. You hated to admit it, but you absolutely wanted him. “I-I mean, yes. Yes I’m okay with that.” Miguel did not hesitate. His claws immediately ripped open your clothes, exposing your chest. Miguel’s claws retracted and he immediately attacked your chest, latching his lips onto one of your nipples, the other being massaged by his hand. “O-Oh my god!” Your impulse cry of ecstasy caused Miguel to groan.
He peppered kisses up your neck, his big, calloused hands massaging your breasts. “I’m going to make you mine,” his lips are right next to your ear, his voice is low and husky. “Can I bite you?” You nodded, lost in the feeling of his fingers massaging your nipples. He groans as he drags his fangs across your skin before burying them into the crook of your neck. You let out a moan. His fangs sunk deep into your flesh, he was very careful not to release any venom though. He wanted to make sure you felt every bit of what he was about to do to you. The stinging sensation of the bite slowly faded to pleasure. He keeps his mouth latched onto your neck, sliding his hand down your body and letting his hand rest on your ass, squeezing gently. He pulls his fangs out of you, blood dripping from them now. You look into his eyes and bite your lip.
“Kiss me,” you whispered breathlessly as you grab his face in your hands, slamming your lips together. The taste of your blood was on his tongue, he gently bites your lower lip and tangles his hands in your hair. “Miguel,” your voice was high pitched and whiny, more so than you wanted. Miguel didn’t mind and in fact reveled in the fact he was able to do this to you. He continues peppering your skin with kisses, sliding your shorts and underwear down your body. He then rips his own suit off his skin, instantly cooling his body and setting his cock free.
He grabs a fistful of your hair and bends you over his desk, lining his cock up with your dripping cunt. “I need you,” his chest is pressed against your back and he slowly thrusts his cock in between your thighs. “So plump and warm,” he moaned in your ear, sliding his hands under your chest pinching your nipples.
“Oh, Miguel,” you moan, your face pressed against the wood of his desk. “Fuck me, please,” you cried, your lip quivering in anticipation.
Miguel slid his hands down to your hips, lightly raking his claws down your flesh, small beads of blood forming at the scratches left behind. He grabs the base of his cock, rubbing his tip in your wet folds. You whimper in anticipation, then Miguel stuffed the tip of his cock in your hole. He was so big it felt like he was ripping you in half. He was griping your hips and digging his claws into them for better leverage. “So little,” he muttered as he pounded into you, “so.. tight..” His thrusts were shallow, working his way up to filling you completely. “Can you take it all? Do you think you can handle all of my big cock?” He was babbling while he thrusted, drunk on your pussy already.
“Please Miguel,” your small frame whimpered for him. “More please..”
Miguel pulled out almost all of the way, a whimper escaped you when due to feeling empty. He spat on his cock and slowly pushed his throbbing, swollen cock into your quivering pussy. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes and the two of you moaned at the new feeling. Miguel began thrusting wildly, pounding hard in deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “Wh-Where?” he asked, in reference to where you wanted him to cum.
You turned back to face him as best as you could. Looking into his eyes you say, “Inside.” This sends him into overdrive. He’s pounding deep into you at animalistic speeds. You were sure if you were on your back you’d have a bulge from his swollen head protruding out. He latches his fangs onto your other shoulder as he growls, completely feral, and cums inside of you. You cry out as he bites you again, your walls clenching around his cock as you cum. He continues thrusting sloppily, letting your tight cunt milk all of his seed. He retracts his claws and holds himself up over you, hands at either side of your head. He pulls out of you and you can feel sweat dripping from his forehead.
“Miguel.. You ruined my clothes.”
“Mierda.. Yeah I did.”
#xreader#smut#fanfic#female reader#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#atsv#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara x reader#spiderman 2099#spiderman
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house on the cape.
pt 1 pt2
based on last friday’s video bc im obsessed with it. (events that happened in the vlog may not be in order just so the story flows how i want, also might add or get rid of some things for that same reason ofc). definitely gonna be multiple parts if yall like it so please let me know!!
summary: when the triplets come back home from la, they reunite with their favorite summer tradition, staying in the house on the cape. amidst all of the familiar laughter, and reminiscing on old memories, y/n can’t ignore the feeling stirring in her heart. something that went deeper than friendship. as she grapples with the fact that her feelings for her lifelong best friend, matt, are more than what’s just at the surface, she must learn to navigate and balance the unspoken feelings, and the gut wrenching fear of risking it all.
a/n: sorry guys but i think im scrapping all my old fics. i just have lost interest in them and i dont want to give yall something that i just half assed yk. i just need something new 😖🙏 don’t hate me pls. also i didn’t proof read and i never do so hopefully this all makes sense LMAO
……………………..
“BOYS TRIP!” chris shouts through the house.
the triplets are back in boston from being in la. i’d be lying if i said that i didn’t wish that these visits would last forever. being across the country from my best friends sucked.
“oh yeah , and you’ll be there too. you’re one of the boys.” chris points at me, smiling before loading the car with our bags.
“chris please never say that again.” i cringe, but fail to keep in my laughter.
“i agree. that was disgusting.” nick chimes in.
“just wanted to make sure you know you’re included.” chris throws his hands up in defense.
“thanks.” i smile and shake my head before getting in the car.
we were staying at their house in cape cod, something all of us looked forward to each summer growing up.
we arrive at nate’s house to pick him up. after the group effort of showering him in compliments for his new hair cut, we get back in the car.
sandwiched between nick and nathan, i check the time on my phone. nick grabs my wrist and moves it out of the way to give himself a better view of my lock screen.
“that is such a cute picture.” he says admiringly. it was a picture of matt and i. the picture was taken from behind while matt gave a piggy back ride back to the car because my feet hurt from wearing heels to madison’s concert.
“you took it.” i laugh.
“i know. i really out did myself huh.” he hypes himself up. i smile and roll my eyes.
once we get to the cape house, we unload the car. all of our bags scattered haphazardly throughout our respective rooms. the same rooms each of us have stayed in for years. nate with chris, nick with matt, and me, having been the only girl, with my own room.
“let’s go to the beach!” nate walks out into the kitchen, clapping his hands together.
…
the beach was just within walking distance. matt and i fell behind the rest of the group.
“i’m so glad you’re back.” i tell him.
“me too. i missed you.” he replies.
“i missed you too.” i admit. “a lot.” i look up and meet his eyes. we just stare at each other for a second. we didn’t really need to say anything. it was almost just a mutual understanding that each other were our favorite person.
if only he knew the extent.
the only person i’ve confided in about my feelings for matt was nate. which was precisely why he kept shooting me knowing glances anytime matt and interacted. nate swore that he knew i was in love with matt for years, before i even knew myself.
i can’t exactly pinpoint when i fell in love with my best friend, but i do remember when i realized.
flashback
matt and i sit together in the hammock string between two large oak trees in the backyard of the cape house. the gentle breeze swaying us back and forth softly. the sun was going down just to the right of us. beautiful pink and orange hues paint the sky.
“i could stay right here forever.” matt breaks the silence that had fallen between us.
“me too.” i reply softly.
“oh hey i have something for you” he digs his hand around in his pocket and pulls out a baby pink seashell. he hands it it me.
“i’ve never seen a pink one like that before.” he tells me as i admire the gift.
“me either. i love it. thanks matt.” i smile sweetly at him.
“of course.” he returns the smile.
i feel the heartbeat in my chest racing and my cheeks heating up. the feeling i had been carrying around with me for quite some time became abundantly clear.
i was in love with my best friend.
when i got home that night, i tied a string around the shell, and wore it as a necklace. and i haven’t taken it off since.
end of flashback
that was back when we were 16. 4 whole years i’ve gone hiding my biggest secret from the one person i told everything to.
our gaze was interrupted by chris. “jesus, yall are some slow pokes” he hollers back at us.
we both laugh and pick up out pace.
soon we arrive at the beach. i’ve always loved the beach. it truly is my happy place.
especially when i’m with matt.
nick snaps pictures here and there.
“oh my gosh matt look! this is just like your tattoo!” i hold out a shell to him.
“oh shit you’re right.” he holds out his arm, revealing his tattoo.
“that’s sick.” chris admires the similarity while nick takes a picture.
…
later that night, we all sit in the living room debating on what movie to watch.
“chris im not watching planet of the apes again. we’ve watched it like 9 times already.” nick argues, shutting down chris’s pleads.
“how about grown ups?” matt suggests.
“yes i love that movie.” nate agrees.
“that’s fine with me.” nick shrugs and starts typing it in.
“is that good with you?” matt leans down to where i was sitting in front of him, his voice soft and genuine.
“yeah that’s good with me.” i tell him.
he smiles and pats the spot on the couch next to him, gesturing me to come sit up there with him. i stand up from my spot on the floor and sit down next to him. he drapes a blanket over the both of us.
about an hour or so into the movie, my eyes get heavy. i lean my head on matt’s shoulder, to which he responds with wrapping his arm around me. this was nothing out of the ordinary. there’s pictures going back to when we were in preschool of the two of us practically fused together passed out on the living room floor.
suddenly, a gentle shake of my shoulders woke me up from a sleep i hadn’t even known i fell into. my eyes flutter, slowly regaining focus. when they do, i’m met with matt’s gentle blue eyes.
“hey, you wanna go lay down in your bed? i don’t want your neck to be sore.” he asks, genuinely concerned for my comfort.
i look around, everyone else appeared to have gone into their rooms.
“yeah i probably should.” i say through a yawn.
matt grabs my hand and helps me stand up from the couch. we walk down the hallway. my room came before his and nicks.
“goodnight matt.” i say, slowly turning the doorknob.
“goodnight y/n. see ya in the morning.”
i toss and turn in bed, unable to fall asleep. i stand up from bed, and leave my room. slowly making my way to the kitchen to get a drink, careful to not wake anyone up.
i open the fridge and grab a water. before i can take a sip, i hear a familiar voice behind me.
“can’t sleep?” the sudden breach of silence made me jump a little. i turn around and see matt. he was leaned up against the door frame. his sweatpants falling dangerously low on his figure, his arm under his shirt itching his shoulder, exposing his midriff.
“nope. you?” i set my water down on the counter.
“hm mm” he replies.
we stand in silence for a few moments before matt breaks the silence again.
“wanna go to the beach?”
….
a/n: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LMK IF YALL LIKE THIS. SUGGESTIONS ALWAYS WELCOME AND MY INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN 🙏 i’m using my old taglist, so lmk if you want taken off or added to it!
taglist: @honestlybabymiracle @pepsiimaxx @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattestrella @luvmxtt @rac00ns-are-c00l4
#nick sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader#chrissturnioloxreader#nathan doe#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#nate doe#space camp wellness#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader
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I think the one thing I dislike about the “A Court of Thorns and Roses” fandom is that they only acknowledge physical abuse, and only towards the characters they like. So, I've taken it upon myself to point out the other forms of abuse scattered throughout the book and where they are more prevalent.
Financial abuse: Financial abuse is a form of domestic abuse where one person controls another’s access to financial resources, undermining their ability to support themselves and forcing them to depend on the perpetrator. It can involve various behaviors such as:
Is Feyre using Nesta’s rent to force her to attend a gathering financial abuse?
Yes, that situation is considered to be a form of financial abuse. If your sister is using financial support as leverage to force you into a particular action or behavior against your will, it constitutes controlling and coercive behavior. Financial abuse involves manipulating someone's financial situation to exert control over them, and this fits that description.
Psychological abuse: Psychological abuse, also known as emotional abuse, involves behavior intended to manipulate, intimidate, isolate, or otherwise undermine an individual’s mental well-being. This type of abuse can be subtle or overt and often accompanies other forms of abuse.
Is Cassian telling Nesta that everyone hates her and that he didn’t ask to be shackled to her either psychological abuse?
Yes, telling someone that everyone hates them and that no one, including you, wants to be associated with them is a form of emotional manipulation and degradation. This behavior aims to undermine the person’s self-esteem and sense of worth, making them feel isolated and unvalued. Psychological abuse often involves such tactics to control and hurt the victim emotionally, leading to long-term emotional and mental harm.
Physical abuse: Physical abuse involves the use of physical force that results in bodily harm or the threat of harm. It includes a range of behaviors aimed at causing physical injury or discomfort. Key forms of physical abuse include.
Was Nesta being forced to train physical abuse?
Yes, forcing someone to engage in physical training against their will and restricting their food intake, especially when they are already malnourished, are both abusive behaviors. Compelling someone to perform physical exercise when they do not want to, particularly to the point of causing harm or distress, is a form of physical abuse.
Denying adequate nutrition or controlling someone’s diet can cause serious health problems and further weaken the victim.
Physical abuse: Physical abuse involves the use of physical force that results in bodily harm or the threat of harm. It includes a range of behaviors aimed at causing physical injury or discomfort. Key forms of physical abuse include.
Is Nesta being locked in the HoW physical abuse?
Yes, being locked in a house against your will, particularly in response to behaviors like drinking and having sex, constitutes several forms of abuse. Restricting someone’s freedom of movement by locking them in a house is a form of physical abuse.
This act also constitutes psychological abuse as it manipulates and controls the victim’s environment, causing emotional distress, fear, and feelings of isolation.
Emotional manipulation: Emotional manipulation involves tactics used to influence, control, or exploit someone’s emotions to achieve a desired outcome or gain power over them.
Is Rhysand intimidating Nesta emotional abuse?
Yes, intimidation aims to manipulate your emotions, creating fear or anxiety to control your actions or decisions. This form of emotional manipulation can undermine your mental well-being and autonomy.
Emotional manipulation: Emotional manipulation involves tactics used to influence, control, or exploit someone’s emotions to achieve a desired outcome or gain power over them.
Coercion: Coercion involves using force, threats, or manipulation to compel someone to act against their will or to influence their decisions. It typically involves some form of pressure or intimidation. Key aspects of coercion include:
Is the inner circle using Elain to get Nesta to do things Emotional manipulation and coercion?
Yes, using your sister as a means to manipulate or pressure you into compliance. Creates emotional distress and feelings of obligation or guilt. Coercively controlling your actions by leveraging your relationship with your sister. Is a form of coercion that undermines your autonomy and freedom to make your own choices.
Let me know if should point out more and if to any of you have any.
#anti acotar#anti acosf#anti inner circle#anti feysand#anti rhysand#anti cassian#anti azriel#anti amren#anti morrigan#anti nessian#pro nesta#nesta archeron deserves better
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Forget the Past
Info - angst Fic, some dub con, ascended Paul, unprotected sex, political marriage, technical cheating, yearning, Fremen reader, mention of having children
I spat blood out of my mouth as I was thrown to the floor of the emperor’s palace. Emperor, that very word sent chills through my bones. He was not my leader, not my king, and definitely, not my emperor. I had sworn it since that day he had declared it. I would not bow to him.
I tried to struggle to my feet. I didn’t think the emperor himself would deign to see a single lowly Fremen that had been caught, but I didn’t want to kneel regardless.
I was harshly pushed down every time I tried to lift myself on aching ankles. I was covered in muck and blood. Sand must’ve been in every crevice of my body. I wanted to wash off in the Fremen pools, and sleep, but my entire life was about to change. I’d been captured and there was nothing I could do.
“Y/n,” said a gasp. I lifted my head and locked eyes with him.
It had been half a decade since he’d taken Princess Irulan’s hand and declared a Holy War. He’d tried to contact me. He’d tried to send messages to me. I’d ignored everything he’d done. He would not be the saviour of my people. He was our next oppressor.
He was still beautiful though he was not the boy I’d once known. His dark curls and piercing eyes still made my heart pound a little faster. I couldn’t believe he’d known who I was under the blood and rubble. Yes, he’d tried to contact me, but that had stopped years ago. I assumed now he rested with his empire and his new wife.
“Take her to the bath house,” Paul said with a flick of his fingers.
“But your Greatness, Emperor, she is a traitor. She is one of the ones who does not follow your golden path to paradise,” argued the guard. They should have known better.
“LISTEN!” The bene gesserit gift of the voice echoed through the room. I hated that awful power. He was more foreign than he ever was when he used that manipulation tactic.
“Take her to the finest bath chamber we have. Give her a robe and clothing, but watch the doors. Do not let her escape,” Paul said, and with a flash of his robe, he was gone.
I was treated kindly. Their fingers did not dig into my skin. I was not shoved as I had been before. The fear and awe of the Emperor was great and fierce enough to have them obey even when out of his eye sight.
I remembered when he’d been a younger man. His large eyes and cautious ways had made me fond of him. He had let me teach him so many things. He had been so willing to learn. Now I assumed he thought that he knew all and saw all.
I bathed in the luxurious water. I couldn’t believe he’d wasted so much on me. I normally would have refused but men were stationed outside my door to make sure that I did as I was told.
I attempted to use as little as possible. It was not Fremen to use water so lavishly. I was disassociating though. I didn’t feel like I was truly in my body. All I saw was green eyes and sharp cheekbones.
I put on the silky pink robe. It was the softest thing I had ever worn. It was also short, and much of my legs were exposed. This too I was not used to. Baring your skin to the Arrakis sun was foolish, but here….. perhaps this place, this palace was more like Caladan.
I remembered how Paul told me it poured water from the skies there. He had promised that one day he would take me there and show me. There were a lot of promises he hadn’t kept.
I smashed my fist against the cold stone wall in defeat. I hated that I still thought of him. I hated that I gave him the time of day even in my mind. He had utterly betrayed me and I doubted he’d given it a second thought. He was the Messiah after all, they didn’t have regrets.
“You’re even more beautiful than the day you left me,” said a voice. It was calm and deep.
I turned to see Paul in the door way. He was in white robes. He looked older, though nothing much had changed about his face. It was his aura.
“I never thought I’d see you again my angel,” he said in a breath. It was the most unsteady he’d sounded this entire time.
He was rushing to me then as if he could not hold himself back. He had me in his strong grip even though I struggled. He was looking over every inch of me. I realised he was making sure I was okay and uninjured.
“Unhand me,” I snarled.
“Y/n, my love, my love,” he gasped. He was pressing his forehead against mine. I didn’t like how I was instantly pulled into his gravity.
“Y/n,” he crooned again. His hand curled into my hair.
“Let me breathe you in.”
“You deserve to breathe in smoke and choke,” I spat.
“My love, it’s me, it’s Paul,” he said. It wasn’t him. It was someone different. It was the Emperor, I didn’t know him.
“You are a married,” was what I raggedly said, though so many other things mattered so much more.
“You know I don’t love her. You are my only,” he told me earnestly.
“Yet there is a wedding ring on your finger.”
“She lives a life of celibacy, as do I. I have saved myself for you,” he whispered. His eyes still were trying to search mine. He was looking desperately for some part of me to tell him he wasn’t crazy for continuing to love me.
“Die,” I growled.
I turned around and made my way to the door. Paul let me go for a moment and then his body was behind me again. His hand was flat on my stomach.
“Paul,” I said with a warning in my voice.
“Please, she means nothing to me,” he promised. “She hasn’t known a moment of my tenderness, not like you have.
I thought of the Fremen lovers I’d taken to blow off steam, to release tension, to forget Muad’Dib, to soothe my wounds, to be held for once in a long while. I didn’t feel a moment of loyalty to them in this moment, but I wished they were here. I needed someone, something to distract me from the light that was Paul. I was an insect careening towards brightness though it was bound to be my downfall.
Had he really stayed loyal to my memory? Had he truly never touched Irulan the way he had me? If this was true, why could he not have loved me enough to not become what he was now?
“I will love you as long as I breathe,” he murmured into my neck. His hand moved lower.
A horrible noise echoed in the chamber. It was me. I was moaning. My body seemed to think it belonged with his. My brain screamed at me as I leaned back against him.
The heel of Paul’s palm was rolling against my clothed pussy. My trembling hand reached up and grabbed at the back of his neck.
“I could snap your neck right now,” I whispered.
“My love,” was all he said in response.
“Paul,” I tried to say. It came out as more of a warbling hum.
He was lifting my robe. I felt the press of his length. I was panting. I knew he’d stop if I used our old safe word, but I couldn’t manage it. How many nights had I craved one more touch from him.
“I never got to say goodbye,” he moaned. His lips were peppering along my throat. My pulse fluttered.
“Oh my darling, let me have you once more?” He pleaded.
“You’re despicable,” I huffed.
“You’re everything,” he responded.
I couldn’t help the way my body melted into his. I was rolling against his hand. I let him push down his pants and rub his member against my wet folds. I wore no panties under the robe.
“May I?”
“Who am I to turn down an Emperor,” I panted.
I was glad I was backed up against him. I didn’t want him to see my eyes as he pushed inside me. It was like every taste of him, every memory, every delicious feeling came back with him.
“You feel like heaven. You are bliss,” he murmured in my ear. He pumped inside me.
I closed my eyes and let go. I let the sounds I wanted to make fall from my mouth. I was keening as he held my hips possessively. He was snapping in and out as he mumbled praises against my skin.
“Perfect, what I was made for. You should be empress. Bare my children, be my goddess,” he pleaded. He didn’t use that harsh Bene Gesserit power on me, but he just pleaded.
Pleasure was erupting over me on chills. I imagined we were back in the dessert. We belonged to one another again. He was on the good side.
It was like we had never been separated. I was part of him again. We were one. I was shaking with the weight and glorious gratification of the connection. If I believed in connected souls, it would have to be us.
“Paul, Paul, Paul,” I repeated.
“I knew you missed me. I thought of you every night. Every time I chastely kissed her goodnight, I imagined it was you, and I imagined it was more than chaste.”
I felt tears fill my eyes. He had to go and ruin it. He had to bring the present into the past. I felt some of the warm light fade.
“Muad’Dib,” I sobbed, unable to call him his other name.
“Call me yours,” he pleaded. My mouth stayed shut.
I tried to lose myself in the lust again. I closed my eyes again and leaned back. I began to speak. I said all the things I’d imagined I’d say if things had been different.
“I stayed up nights thinking about how much I loved you. I didn’t mind the sunshine if I was able to wake up and see your face more clearly,” I mumbled.
“Y/n?” He asked.
“You made me giggle, smile, dream, and more. You made me feel home in a person and not a place.”
“Oh y/n,” he shuddered. He began to move faster. Despite myself, pleasure overwhelmed me. I arched and let out a whine.
“I love you. I never stopped, I never will!” He promised me. He rolled his hips and played with my clit to make it all feel more intense.
“I loved you like the moon loves the stars. I loved you like a flower loves water. You were part of my soul. I wanted to bare your children. I never wanted to imagine a life without you.”
“Yes, that is exactly how I feel. Oh, darling, I’m so close!” He gasped.
He was holding me tight and reverently as he pounded inside me. His lips were attached to my neck. He let out a pant of pure lust and need. His warm seed began to fill me.
I couldn’t help but fall over the edge too. I was doused in swirling stars once again. Once again the world was beautiful as we reached our heights together.
I heard the wetness as he pulled himself out of me. I stepped forward robotically and turned around. Paul’s eyes were glazed over with a film of pure love and satisfaction. This nearly dopey expression, the one I recognised from when we used to make love, fell when he saw the look in my eyes.
“Y/n?”
“Go back to your wife,” I said in a full tone. He was understanding now that everything is said had been past tense.
“Y/n!” His voice was shrill and worried now. He had truly become so haughty he hadn’t expected another rejection.
“Forget the past, Emperor,” I finished with a mock curtsy.
#reader insert#timothee chamalet#timothee fanfic#timothee imagine#timothee x reader#timothee chalamet#timothee x you#timothee x y/n#timothée chalamet#x reader#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee smut#timothee chalamet smut#timothée chamalet#timothée chalamet gifs#timothée chalamet smut#timothée x you#timothée imagine#timothée x reader#timothée angst#timothée chalamet angst#paul atredies x you#paul atredies smut#dune part two#paul atredies x reader#paul atreides smut#paul atreides x reader#paul atreides x you#paul atreides#forget the past
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Random One Piece incorrect quotes cause I'm bored
Some of these are modern au though
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
*Sanji's not there*
Usopp: HELP! I TOLD LUFFY I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK!
Zoro, pouring alcohol directly into a cereal bowl:
Zoro: And you thought I could help?
...
Luffy: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.
Nami : Wasn't Zoro with you?
Zoro: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised
...
Law: I trust Mugiwara-ya.
Penguin: You think he knows what he's doing?
Law: I wouldn't go that far.
...
Sabo: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life
Ace, confused: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?
Sabo: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.
Luffy: edible
...
Nami: We need to get through this locked door. Usopp, give me your credit card.
Usopp: Here.
Nami, pocketing it: Thanks. Luffy, kick down the door.
...
Chopper: You know those things will kill you, right?
Zoro, pouring another glass of whiskey: That’s the point.
Sanji, smoking a cigarette: We’re trying to speed up the process.
Luffy: *Nods while eating raw cookie dough*
...
Robin: Why is Luffy so sad?
Nami: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes
Robin: And...?
Nami: He got Buggy
*Zoro cackling in the background
...
Zoro: Self care is actually getting into fights with randos in dark alleys.
Nami: No, self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath, or putting on a lot of makeup if you like it, or taking a nice warm nap!
Kin'emon, trying to be poetic: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you!! Self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists!! Self care is the fear in your enemies’ eyes!!!
Usopp: Lmao self care is taking Luffy's birthday meat cake just so I can eat the frosting.
Luffy: If you touch my meat cake I’ll make you eat your hands.
Sanji, losing his mind: WHY IS THERE FROSTING ON MEAT?
...
Franky, about Jinbe: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group.
Robin: Are we stealing them?
Brook: New or used?
Franky, cackling: Wonderful responses, both of you.
...
Smoker: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.
Sanji: Shit.
Usopp: Wait, three?
Smoker: Yeah?
Nami: OH MY GOD ZORO FELL OFF!!!
...
Kin'emon: Tonight, one of you has betrayed us.
Ashura: Is it me?
Kin'emon: No, it’s not you.
Denjiro: Is it me, Kin?
Kin'emon: It’s not you either.
Kanjuro: Is it me, Kin'emon?
Kin'emon, bleeding from several debilitating injuries:
Kin'emon, mockingly: Is IT mE kiN'eMOn?
...
Usopp: Can I be frank with you guys?
Luffy, confused: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.
Chopper: Can I still be Chopper?
Franky, snickering: Shh, let Frank speak.
...
Sabo: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!
Koala: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD
Sabo: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ROBIN-CHAN WITH ME
Hack, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.
...
Law, walking into his submarine: Hello, people who do not belong here.
Zoro: Hey.
Sanji: Hi.
Robin: Hello.
Chopper: Hey!
Law: I gave you my vivre card for emergencies only!
Luffy, grinning: We were out of meat.
...
Sanji: You know, I'm starting to regret showing you how that blender works.
Luffy, drinking meat: Why do you say that?
...
Zoro: Do you take constructive criticism?
Nami: I only take cash or credit.
...
Koala: Why are you on the floor?
Sabo: I'm depressed.
Sabo: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ivankov, please.
...
Robin: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?
*everyone looks ay Karasu
Karasu: What? How am I supposed to know?
Lindbergh: You say, as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.
Karasu: *sighs*
Karasu: You wouldn't be trapped
...
Vivi: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.
Nami: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you?
Vivi: Yes!
Usopp: ... I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.
...
Usopp: WHY. why did you give Luffy a KNIFE?!
Zoro, shrugging: He said he felt unsafe.
Usopp: Now I feel unsafe!
Zoro: ... would you like a knife?
...
Dragon: What did you do with the target's body?
Sabo : What didn’t I do with the body?
Dragon:
Sabo: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the corpse respectfully.
...
Luffy, texting Ace: Ace! Help I’m being kidnapped
Ace: Where are you?
Luffy: I’m with some strange person. In a car. Help.
Ace: I’ll call Gramps.
Garp, answering their cell: Y’ello?
Ace: Where’s Luffy? He texted me that he was being kidnapped.
Garp: Luffy? Whaddya mean, he's right next to me-
Garp, who shaved his head:
Garp: I’ll call you back. *hangs up*
Garp: THE NEW HAIRCUT ISN’T THAT BAD!
Luffy: WHO ARE YOU?!
...
*Ace, Sabo and Luffy sitting in jail together*
Sabo: So who should we call?
Ace: I’d call Gramps, but I feel safer in jail
...
Roger: Garp, my old arch enemy.
Garp: ... I thought I was your only arch enemy?
Roger: I have a life outside of you, Garp
...
Zoro: Sometimes I drink milk straight out of the container.
Luffy: The cow???
Zoro: What?
Sanji: *disgusted shudder* LUFFY, W H Y?
...
Usopp: Would you stab your best friend in the leg for 10 billion berry?
Zoro: Nami can stab me, and then when my leg gets better, we buy a big-ass house and erase my debt
Luffy: You can stab me too, then we'll have 20 billion.
Zoro: Good thinking.
...
Kin'emon: Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night.
Denjiro: You were flirting with O'Tsuru.
Kin'emon: So what? She's my wife.
Denjiro: You asked her if she were single.
Kin'emon:
Denjiro: And then you cried when she said she wasn't
...
Marco: What time is it?
Ace: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out
Ace: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*
Izou: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING
Ace, proudly: It’s 2 am
...
Luffy: I can’t believe you live nearby, and you won’t let anyone crash at your place.
Law: You people already know too much about me.
Kidd: I know exactly three facts about you, and one of them is that you won’t let any of us crash at your place.
...
Sabo, an enabler: Tell Ace about the birds and the bees.
Luffy: They're disappearing at an alarming rate.
...
Brook: Schrödinger’s cat is overrated. If you wanna see something that’s both dead and alive you can talk to me any time of the day.
...
Zoro: With great power comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later.
...
Law: When someone points at your black clothes and asks whose funeral it is, having a look around the room and saying 'Haven’t decided yet' is typically a good response.
Bepo: Captain, no.
...
Law: Nothing in life is free.
Chopper: Love is free!
Luffy: Adventure is free!
Robin: Knowledge is free.
Nami: Everything is free if you take it without paying.
...
Usopp: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Luffy will and will not eat.
Franky: Grass? Yes!
Usopp: Moss? Yes!!
Franky: Leaves? Ohh, yes!
Usopp: Shoelaces? Strange but true!
Franky: Worms? Sometimes!
Usopp: Rocks? Usually nah.
Franky: Twigs? Usually!
Usopp: Zoro's cooking? Inconclusive!
Chopper: How did you… test this?
Usopp: You just hand him stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if he eats it, he eats it.
Chopper: ... I don’t know how to feel about this.
Nami: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SHOELACES WENT?
Robin: What about humans? He tried to eat Crocodile once
Everyone: ...
Usopp: I think I might be too afraid to ask
(Someone pls draw this one XD)
...
Betty: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?
Koala: *turning to Sabo* How tall are you?
...
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
That's it, this took forever to write lol
#one piece#monkey d. luffy#sabo#portgas d ace#koala#roronoa zoro#nami#black leg sanji#usopp#nico robin#franky#brook one piece#tony tony chopper#jinbe#trafalgar law#one piece incorrect quotes#asl brothers#strawhat pirates#heart pirates#revolutionary army#whitebeard pirates#akazaya nine#there's like a hundred others but I'm too lazy to tag them
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Kinktober: October 9th - Breeding (Papa Emeritus III x Female!Reader)
Tags: Established Relationship, Breeding, Mentions Of Miscarriage, Hurt/Comfort, Rough Sex, Praise, Light Body Worship, Multiple Orgasms, Cunilingus (Terzo Is A Munch), Fluff And Smut, First Person POV
My knee bounced up and down in anticipation, sat on the edge of the bathtub, waiting impatiently. When it's time, I gulp, anxiously looking down at the tiny test in my hand. Negative. Again. Tears start to brim in the corners of my eyes, but I quickly brush it off, taking a deep breath to self-regulate. I was used to the disappointment.
Me and Terzo have been trying for a baby for nearly a year, to no avail. I've seen dozens of negative pregnancy tests, and even the ones that appear positive at first, I end up losing that pregnancy soon after. I try my best to keep my head high, but the more negative tests keep building up, the bigger the pit in my stomach grows, swallowing any and all hope I've held onto. It was like a sick joke, the dream of having a family being just out of reach.
I toss the test in the trash, stepping outside the bathroom with a sigh. Terzo, who had been pacing around the bedroom with his hands clasped behind his back, stops in his tracks when he hears the door creak open. His head immediately snaps up, gaze nervous, expectant. "Well?" He asks tensely. I say nothing. I don't have to. My expression says all that needs to be said. Terzo frowns.
"Oh, amore..." His arms immediately encircle me, engulfing me in a bone-crushing hug. My heart ached as soon as I heard him speak, clearly trying his best to be strong for me, yet I can hear the disappointment in his voice. My throat grows tight as I choke back a sob, my hardened exterioir starting to crack.
"I thought... I thought it would take this time..." I sniffle, unable to hold back the everflowing stream of tears stinging my eyes as they cascade down my cheeks. "I don't u-understand... What's w-wrong with me?" I wept uncontrollably into the crook of his neck.
"Shh, shh... Nothing is wrong with you." Terzo reassures firmly, stroking my hair, his chin rested on the top of my head. "These things just take time, tesoro..." I pull away from his embrace, practically pushing him off me, remaining inconsolable.
"How much time? How much longer do we have to wait?" I heave frustratedly, my voice raw and cracking painfully with every word. Terzos eyes glazed over, powerless as he watched me break down. I know he hated seeing me in such despair, over and over again, while also feeling equally as devastated. I hardly consider the fact that this is destroying him, too.
Terzo swallowed harshly, rubbing his eyes before the tears even dare to escape, trying to remain stoic. "We'll keep trying." He croaked calmly, sounding as if he's trying to convince himself that everything's going to be okay more than he's trying to convince me. "We'll keep trying..."
My bottom lip quivers, my eyes already red and puffy, snot building up in my sinuses, no doubt looking like a hot mess. "I... I need to be alone right now..." I whimper hoarsely, overwhelmed and needing time to wallow in my sorrows by myself. Terzo nods understandingly, even though I can tell he's reluctant. I avoid looking him in the eyes, for fear that it would send me over the edge even further.
"Let me know if you need anything, amore." He murmured. "Just don't keep yourself locked away for too long, si? I love you, tesoro..." And with that, he left the room, gently closing the door behind him, granting me the space I asked for. I immediately fell onto the bed, burying my face into the pillow to sob hysterically.
-
I can't pinpoint when exactly I managed to fall asleep, but I woke up suddenly to a delightful smell. Opening my eyes, I see Terzo, holding a plate of my favorite food in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. "I knew you'd be roused awake as soon as I brought your food in." Terzo grins, admittedly relieved to see me up.
"I thought this would make you feel better." He says, placing the dish down on the bedside table. He shakes around the bottle of wine enticingly. "And this is here to make me feel better. But you're welcome to have some too, of course..." He kneels down beside me, brushing strands of hair out of my face, gazing into my eyes sincerely. "How are you feeling, tesoro?"
"Terrible." I chuckle humourlessly, my nose stuffy and voice slightly nasaled. I feel nothing but numb at this point, empty. Terzo smiles weakly, squeezing my hand and gently stroking the skin with his thumb. He'd seen me in this disheveled state a hundred times before, but this time it was different. I felt so defeated, resigned, and to Terzo it seemed like I was giving up, which terrified him. "I know." He acknowledged, smile fading. "Me too..."
We sit together in silence for what feels like hours, halfheartedly picking at the food he brought me with a fork, my appetite lacking. Terzo lay down in the bed beside me, an arm wrapped securely around me as he takes a swig of his wine straight from the bottle, neither of us so much as looking at each other, devoid of our usual energy.
"We will have a baby." He declared, his brows furrowed with a look of unwaivering determination. "One of these days, it will take, and we'll have a little one of our own in our arms, filling our life with joy and stinky diapers. But until then, we will keep trying. It's not hopeless, cara mia. You need to know this." I couldn't help the faint smirk that grew on my face. It always warmed my heart to see his determination and resilience shine through, even in the hardest of times.
I nod in silent agreement, but he tuts, setting the bottle of wine down to use his spare hand to grab me by the chin, gently maneuvering my face to look at him. "I want to hear you say it, amore mio." He insists, gaze unwavering. For some reason, his face so close to mine, his commanding tone, sends a shiver down my spine and a fluttering sensation in my chest and... somewhere else. I breathe in. "It's not hopeless." My words came out a bit shaky, but still resolute. "We will keep trying."
Terzo takes notice of the subtle shift in my demeanor, cocking an eyebrow. He can feel my breathing starting to pick up, and he's immediately on guard, eyes flicking down towards my lips briefly; I know that look. "Who knows," he purrs. "Perhaps the one that takes... Could be conceived tonight?" He suggests, half-jokingly. His usual confidence waivers, unsure if he should be suggesting that kind of thing while just hours ago I was in such a fragile mental state.
My body is hyper-aware of his proximity, the scent of him surrounding me, his gloved hand trailing down from underneath my chin to caress my neck. "I wouldn't mind trying." I shudder, my breath hitching audibly as he leans closer, lips ghosting mine. Heat pools in my core, the idea, the hope, that tonight might be the night, that maybe we could finally get what we'd been wanting for so long. It sets my blood on fire.
He closes the gap between us, lips pressing together, exchanging kisses, sweet and tender at first, but they quickly build to be more passionate, desperate. Our teeth clash together from the force, but we are both too wound-up to care, our tongues intertwining and sloppily fighting for dominance. His hands slide over my body, slipping under my shirt to grope my bare breasts in a firm, possessive hold. "Get on your back." He whispers lowly, leaving no room for questioning.
I do as I'm told, excitement rushing through blood, causing a full-body shiver of anticipation. Without another word, he rolls on top of me, trapping me between his body and the mattress. He licks his lips hungrily, wasting no time tearing off my pajama pants and my underwear with renewed vigor, lowering himself down to press his face against my sex. "Need to get a taste of your cunt before I stuff you full..." He gruffs before delving his tongue into my hole, lapping up as much of my slick as possible.
I clench, my hips gyrating against his face, in need of friction on my clit. I let out a noise between a gasp and a moan, obnoxiously loud and needy. He knows exactly what I crave, and runs his thumb across my slit, up to the little bundle of nerves that so desperately needs attention. He puts pressure on my clit, rubbing it in slow, circular motions, as his tongue delves in and out of me, devouring my pussy as if it was his favorite meal.
Terzo, with his impeccable skill, has me cumming on his tongue within minutes, greedily slurping down every last drop of my juices. My vision is blurred from the intensity of the orgasm, my body tingling in a daze. Before I can come down fully from my high, Terzo has already hoisted himself up over me, swiftly taking his throbbing cock out and plunging deep in my walls. Hes always loved fucking me after making me cum with his mouth, claiming I was all the more wetter, warmer after a good, hard orgasm.
Usually when we were intimate, he was gentle, loving. We made love, sensual caresses and sweet nothings whispered into one anothers ears. But tonight, he was fucking me. His hips snapped brutally against mine with reckless abandon, giving me no time to adjust, which in return only made me squeeze tighter around him. There's no time for softness now, only a deep and primal urge to breed.
"F-fucking good girl. S-so tight, fucking milking my cock. Satanas!" He growls, his eyes trained on the way my body bounced and jiggled as he pounded into me, especially my belly. He rubbed his hands up and down my torso, gripping the supple flesh appreciatively. "You are going to look so beautiful when you swell with my child. Seeing this fucking stomach, all round and full of me... I won't be able to keep my hands off of you, tesoro."
This was a side of Terzo I've never seen before. Desperate, greedy, borderline animalistic, like he was addicted to my cunt and was using me as a means to get his fix. He was filthy, starved, and filling my womb with his seed was the only way to satiate his hunger. He thrusts harder, faster, till it's almost too much for either of us to handle. Almost. Terzo has always pleased me so good every time, better than anyone else ever has, but this time was incomparable. I was so embarrassingly wet, creaming on his dick, watching the white foamy mess encapsulate his member below, making a mess of his well-trimmed pubic hair.
My head is spinning, another orgasm brewing within me once again. The coil in my abdomen tightens with every thrust, ready to snap. "Are you ready for Papa to breed you? Are you ready for me to make you a mother? Cum on my cock, cara. Let's cum together." His words are exactly what I need to hear to cause the dam inside me to finally break, indescribable pleasure sparking throughout every nerve ending in my body, forgetting everything I've ever known, nothing remaining in my mind but pure bliss.
He finishes soon after me, a final rut into my tight walls as he spills himself impossibly deep within me. I welcome the comforting warmth of his seed filling me, feeling so close to him in more ways than one. For a moment, we are one, truly one, and there is no moment in history more beautiful to me. Dick softening, he pulls out of me, eliciting one last whine from him. He drops to my side, chest heaving, the both of us feeling boneless and tired.
"You okay?" He murmurs, compassion and concern etched in his voice. I nod, my mind too far gone to speak properly. The only thing I can focus on is the blobs of his spend leaking out of me and dripping down my thighs. He is warm and secure, and I've never felt better or safer than I do right now with him. Of course, I do hope his seed will take root, but the idea of getting to be fucked like this more often makes me hope we will have to keep trying, again and again. I don't ever want to go an evening where I'm not stuffed full.
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#the band ghost#ghost bc#ghost band#ghost band fanfic#papa emeritus iii#papa iii#papa terzo#terzo emeritus#papa emeritus smut#papa emeritus iii smut#papa emeritus iii x reader#terzo x reader#terzo smut#ghost band smut#ghost kinktober#kinktober 2024
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Killer | Ivan Drago x fem!reader
Summary : It was an extremely brutal fight - to say at least - but his focus wasn't entirely there. Her scared gaze made him feel something that he shouldn't. He was angry at himself. She was scared of him. She was scared of the raw unfiltered strength he has. She shouldn't be feeling this way.
Tw : emotional distress, violence and physical harm, aggression and rage, power dynamics, possessiveness and jealousy, kinda angsty in general but there is a lot of unresolved tension between them, size difference just because.
Notes : To answer your questions about this, no, Ivan isn't married and no, he doesn't kill Apollo Creed but he still fights Rocky. Y/N is Rocky's younger sister and Andrian's best friend. And yes, they get together at the end so don't worry.
Edit : English isn't my first language so please just bare with me, also I tried proofreading this and this was the best I could. Also if you don't like what you're reading just scroll down and don't leave mean or hateful comments, I'm doing the best I can.
Tags : @unimportantbabymilksharkte
I’m so proud of myself, I was able to create this GIF 🥹
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"For the love of God Rocky , please just hear me out for one second." You begged your brother.
"Just shut up and get out of my face Y/N i'm sick of this." Rocky screamed back at you.
Andrian was sitting in the couch silently observing you two. She knew that it would be better if she didn't interfere, but this time Rocky had actually crossed the line. Telling you to shut up ?
"She's right Rocky. You're gonna get yourself killed. Remember what Apollo told you after the fight. He's ruthless." She told her husband.
"So what ? " He screamed back at them.
"What do you mean so what ? Are you kidding me right now ? Are you joking or do you seriously want to get punched to death by a human mountain ? Because if you do you are just so incredibly stupid." You said angrily.
Rocky's response was a small chuckle, but before he could respond you interrupted him.
"His coach said that whatever he hits, he destroys, and don't deny that Rocky. I was there. I saw the whole thing."
And it was true. You were there when the Siberian Bull - as they call him - fought Apollo Creed and won. And of course you sow the whole thing.
And more.
You were anxiously fidgeting with a small gem that was on your nail, ready to fall out.
"Jesus." You heard Andrian silently saying to you as James Brown started singing Living In America and Apollo made his way to the ring stealing the spotlight with flashing lights.
"I know." You said back not looking away. His gaze wandere around, taking the magnitude of what was happening around him.
Ivan was already bored and not at all amused by this. Even though he liked and respected Apollo as a fighter, he was tired of his constant need of being extra. He rolled his eyes and slowly turned his head towards her.
He was looking for her angelic presence amidst the chaos. Her was struck, almost phusically, by her beauty.
As the bell rang he moved towards the center of the ring just wanting to get this done so he could go back to his hotel room and think of her not feeling guilty.
His powerful frame moved with precision and force, each punch a testament to his immense power, but his mind was elsewhere.
Her.
He noticed how tensed she was or how she was flinched every time he exchanged punches with Apollo.
Besides her Rocky Balboa, his wife and Apollo's wife. He connected the dots.
Great.
She was Rocky's sister.
But that didn't stop his feelings. If anything, now he wanted her even more.
Without realising it his punches became even more forceful, but his eyes were locked on her.
Unfortunately Andrian had caught up on this. She knew that look. Fear and desire.
"Tell me your not serious ? Please." She told Y/N but she already knew the answer to that. "Oh come on Y/N not him. Out of all the guys you choose him ?
"I'm sorry alright ? But, I can't help it. You know what I'm going through. You went the same with my brother." Y/N said to her.
"He is the enemy. How did that even start ? " Andrian asked curiously.
"He's been looking me since the interview." Y/N answered.
"Since then ? And you told me nothing ? " Andrian said shosked but deep down she knew that things like that happen. It wasn't Y/N's fault.
As the fight continued it was clear that Apollo was losing. Rocky was getting angrier by the second. Apollo was really hurt. "He's ruthless." Apollo said to Rocky and without hesitation Rocky rushed towards the center of the ring dropping Apollo's towel, signaling that the fight is over, but demanding a rematch.
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He was relentless. Walking back and forth in his hotel room, taking showers, running, lifting weights, punching bags his thoughs were consumed by her.
Nothing helped. Touching himself made it worse. But he couldn't seem to stop. Constantly being hard and in private his hand was always fisting or stroking his dick thinking of her. Her innocent eyes, her lips, the curves of her body.
He imagined her eyes rolling back, kissing her lips until they bleed, how his big hands would look at her small waist.
He couldn't wait until the next game. Tension was building inside him- one that was raw, primal. Need to consume. He thought about her fear and vulnerability.
The desire was undeniable, they both felt an urge that demanded to be fullfilled.
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She literally had no idea of how she found herself in this situation.
They were so close.
Everyone was staying in the Grand Hotel in Las Vegas for the preparation for the fight. Today was the interview of Rocky and Ivan, but she left during the middle of it wanting to escape Drago's intense stare. She knew that he would find it weird, but she didn't expect this.
Him standing in front of her. Her heart raced. Drago's eyes locked onto hers as he slowly approached her.
"You were difficult to ignore tonight." He said to her, his voice deep.
Her cheeks flushed slightly at his comment,his eyes scaned her face.
"I didn't mean to distract you." She said, trying to maintain her composure.
He stepped closer, the space between them narrowing as he continued to study her. " Are you afraid ? " He asked.
"No, I'm just worried about your fight with my brother." She answered.
His eyes were now glued to her lips. "And what about me ? " He asked.
She hesitated, struggling to find the correct words.
They were both aware of their feelings for each other, the sexual tension between them becoming unbearable. presence both commanding and soothing.
He took a step closer to her, his large hands found their way to her delicate waist gently bringing her closer to him. Their faces were mere inches apart. Her lips just a breath away from his.
Their lips brushed together briefly, the touch was enough to sent a jolt through both of them. Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment, her body instinctively leaning into him, craving more despite the fear that gripped her.
His hands found themselves travelling up the sides of her waist, the moment their lips met, he pressed his lips against hers parting them as his tongue explored her mouth.
Drago's hands remained on her waist, as they broke their kiss. Their breaths came in ragged gasps. They simply stared at each other, the air between them was thick with tension.
He kissed her again, slowly pushing her against the wall, his lips travelling from her mouth to her neck searching for the sensitive spot that woud make her react to his actions. Her head tilted back, her eyes fluttering closed as she surrendered to him. His palms found their way to her breasts, his touch firm and possessive. A quiet moaned escaped her lips and he swore that was the sound that he loved the most.
Voices could be heard coming towards them so he quickly backed off not wanting to get caught up in the act. But it was probably for the best. They could continue someplace else.
"Come with me." He said to her while grabbing her hand guiding her elsewhere.
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We've hit the stage of Echoes of Evalas' creation that I'm spending a lot of my quiet time with scenes and characters, including time that is usually occupied by...well, nothing creative. At least, it hasn't been creative time in a long while.
Some of the dearest and most important moments of my young creative daydreaming was before bed. If I might overshare, it was specifically as I lay in bed and tried to drown out unpleasantness I'd hear from other rooms of the house. I'll spare you the details.
I didn't even have music at the time, though in later years as I became a depressed teen, I'd throw some music on my computer to fantasize and fall asleep to.
Oftentimes, these stories and characters I'd contemplate were favorites from various things I enjoyed. In time they'd adapt and evolve into something of my own, in worlds and stories of my own making.
Sometimes it wasn't so grand. There were no sweeping narratives or adventures. Just some self insert character being comforted by a friend or a lover.
Recent nights, I've thrown on my EoE playlist and let my mind wander. I haven't really done that in a long time. Haven't had the need to these days. I'm not running from much. Life is quiet. But as I start to turn over more stones and find what's beneath some of the characters and themes I'm exploring, I've found myself here again.
I don't know if anyone will love what I am making, and I never have. Every person who has let my characters and stories into their hearts means a whole lot to me, though. I've not forgotten when all of this was nothing more than a comfort to myself to soothe away all my fear and loneliness.
As it all starts to come together I'm seeing a stark difference between where I am at as a writer and creative in general in comparison to BitterSweet Chapter 1, as I've revisited it recently.
The pieces were there but it's so clear to me that I didn't have the conviction that I do now. I didn't have the comfort or security of knowing that I can take chances and be bold. I thought I had to color within the lines, and lacked the confidence to really let it rip.
So as much as I've been looking forward, I've also looked back. Further back than I typically like to.
When Charlie said he never thought he'd be this old, that was real shit man. I was a morbid kid. I have a crystal clear memory of being on a school bus in Washington state. Blink 182 just dropped an album. I hate Blink 182, but I listened with a friend whose face I can barely remember. As the high schoolers got on the bus I remember thinking...damn, I'll never be that old.
Not sure what could possess a child to feel that way. Or how that feeling could linger for years. It took a long time to find enough faith in myself to live. Now that I've got it, I think I'm encouraged to give breath to those lost dreams and wandering fantasies. Echoes of Evalas is an exploration of that.
I can't even grasp what that really means yet.
Things like faith, anger, insecurity, and longing for change. I've rattled a lot of locked doors while digging up this story and putting it together.
I am uneasy. That's probably how I've ended up writing this essay in bed, and boy is it a rambling one.
There was a point somewhere. I am excited for what's to come, but uneasy. Not out of fear that anyone will like it or content brained thinking like that. More like...a reverence for this magical thing I've found. Storytelling is magical for me. And that's not me waxing poetic, I think there's something terrifying and beautiful about it. It is the thing I was made to do, and the actual experience of crafting a story like this isn't just fun. I'm removing chains from my soul.
If that ain't magic, I don't know what is.
Anywho, I need to sleep. If you read all that, thank you for putting up with my yapping. 💖
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I’m insanely patient for some things so I never hated the Fade quests in DA as much as a lot of people do. Plus I’m a mage the Fade is my bread and butter! Though I do dread going into the Fade a bit and would mentally prepare myself every time I have to go in there.
So when I played the Fade quest in Inquisition the first time and found myself in the Fade. While running around I was thinking, the Fade is tough but this time I feel much better because my friends/companions are doing this with me!
Because in previous games you either have to go in there alone, for your Harrowing, to save people etc, or have your companions betray you in there, ouch. (One reason I don’t dislike Anders or think he’s out of control is because him as Justice didn’t betray me unlike others, also presumably because Hawke is a mage she was able to stop Anders from killing the girl by telling him she’s not possessed or something).
But this time I have people I really like with me! Including my favourite mages, Dorian who also went through the harrowing (this bit is meta because my Inqy is Dalish lol) and Solas who is THE expert on the Fade.
Then it dawned on me - does Solas not feel lonely when he explores the Fade? He’s so excited about the Fade, and spends so much time in the Fade, but the Fade is a daunting place for most of us, so I naturally wondered if he’d get lonely too.
It was just a thought coming from my meta experience with the games, and because I was romancing Solas.
Then not long after, when I was carelessly looking through the writings on each of the tome stones, Solas’ biggest fear literally shocked me.
“To die alone”!
It did not make sense to me at all at that time, because I did not pick up any clue the writers left on Solas’ relationships with others (things go over my head oof). I just felt pleasantly surprised that it echoed my earlier thought and sympathetic to Solas.
It makes much more sense now I’ve played the game and the next one twice and things finally began to sink in (lol).
In one of his banters with spirit!Cole, he sounds so fucking sad when he pleads Cole to preserve his life carefully because spirits of positive intentions are so rare and prone to harm.
In “All New, Faded for Her”, I did not even notice how fucking sad he was the whole time from realising his friend was turned into a demon to grieving alone afterwards and even considering not to come back.
I also did not even realise that was the point when he soft locks commits to Lavellan or announces his respect for the Inquisitor. Because he cares deeply about friendship and spirits and people that he sees “humanity” in, and he does not want to be alone despite believing he must.
He even tells Tal-Vashoth!Bull that he still has the Inquisitor, he still has him! The Solas who so many people believe is racist against all races, especially the Qunari and Dwarfs? And people say his approval for helping people or stance against slavery is out of pity or only theoretical.
He followed Mythal and got a body even though he really didn’t want to, because he wanted to be with Mythal wherever she went. When the found the broken orb he looked so fucking sad, because he knew he’d have to kill Mythal now in order to continue their duty.
The other time he looked extremely sad was of course when he hard locks breaks up with Lavellan. If you ask are you kidding me he looks so defeated. I always jokingly think romanced Lavellan is so pathetic, now I think Solas is so pathetic too. It’s not wise to love someone undeserving, it degrades someone who has otherwise remarkable qualities to someone unworthy, and it twists these qualities into negative traits. Such is the hell that is humanity.
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NEW CONTENT TO ANALYZE 🛐
For now have a very eepy fixation on the scene where Saran is wrapped around Vika. He's not even close to being physically similar to Vika. Does that stop him at all from being his own weighted blanket/being able to wrap himself around him? Not at all. The reason he has tentacles is to better wrap around Vika
(Something about how Saran seemed to be absentmindedly petting the scars, I wonder if it was due to the texture? Or just something he likes doing. Idk something about it is very intimate, for some reason, usually you'd see a character kissing the area so i guess it's because it's something i haven't seen before that IS a display of intimacy. Rolling it over in my brain. Like a rotisserie chicken. Good concept)
Also 'VIKA CONTROL YOUR TOOL' lmao. It's giving 'GET YOUR FUCKING DOG BITCH' "It don't bite" 'YES IT DO-'. Protective Saran. Also a tasty concept. Good brain food too. Good stuff
(Also, the person who was saying that they liked Saran despite having some issues with eyes is so real. I have a horrible eye phobia. Eyes in general (specially eye contact) really creeps me out and every now and then there will be an illustration where i go 'ah yes this is the eye character. How the fuck did I forget that when IT'S HIS WHOLE THING' because genuinely you HAVE to be putting something in him! He doesn't creep me out! Genuinely i dont have any idea how Saran isn't just one walking trigger for me or why i enjoy him as much even when he does occasionally spook me
It's so weird! Fascinating! Genuinely feel like consuming Saran content (well. Your content in general but specially Saran related) has desensitized me somewhat to eyes. I even find myself particularly enjoying the way eyes have been drawn that day! Good characters good lore and now I can go a step above in my character analysis (in other fandoms) by watching their eyes without getting freaked out about it! Never have been so happy to have stumbled across someone's work)
-eepy 🦜. Still rotating the way they cuddle in my head. Saran is so attentive. So lovely....
imo, wrists are super intimate to touch (probably bc im very sensitive there and dont like them being touched unless its someone im comfortable w and trust); not to mention scars (esp if its SH)
saran stroking and tracing them gently is like him acknowledging them but not judging or pitying etc vika; not paying extreme attention/hyperfocus to them but also not ignoring them to the point of it becoming obvious. they are just a part of the person he loves. they are just there
also, saran just really likes to touch (so does vika) but very soft and gentle; hes the kind of person who will always gently run his knuckles down your face, hold your wrist and trace your veins or scars, stroke the back of your hand or palms, push stray locks of your hair behind your ear. its little but very intimate touches that say more than words could in this moment, more powerful than a bold touch imo
LMAO ITS FUNNY BC while im not scared of eyes at all or anything, im also just very uncomfortable and bad with being looked at/eye contact (i can manage when its a few seconds tho but i really do hate being perceived) but drawing saran so much and his many-eyes when theyre all staring straight at the viewer never fazed me lololol (prolly bc i stare at my own drawings longer than any of you, since i work on them n all)
i love how the eye-guy somehow managed to break through yalls fear of eyes tho!! saran was on his way to become a doctor before he died, does it count if i say bby still managed to "help" at least one a little bit even tho hes dead now? 🥹
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Hi there,
I’ve been a follower of your for quite a while and have to say I admire the dynamic you and Tom share, and the strength and closeness that your base relationship reflects.
I send this seeking your opinion, and I apologize if you’ve already answered this before.
I find myself in a precarious situation where I have, slowly, yet steadily and surely, become interested in chastity. For me, and I say this with as much honesty as one can, my interest in this isn’t fetishized as is more Domme focused. As in, I do not find myself interested in the idea because it gets me all hot and bothered (despite the fact that it does), but is more my desire to offer my Domme something I know I have not fully internalized and am fully comfortable with. Its beyond my comfort zone but that is where growth and magic take place. I will want yo say that my apprehension or anxiety are not because I don’t want to be thrown/throw myself into the deep end, but a nervousness about the realities and challenges of how it will play out if that makes sense? It’s sort of a ‘careful what you wish for’ kind of situation.
I am currently seeing a very special woman who is very much on the dominant side of things and we’ve talked about some aspects that our dynamic would involve. We have discussed orgasm control, and she has made it clear to me that this is an expectation she has of me, but chastity is yet to be discussed.
We have been nurturing a very beautiful connection in our relationship, but the thought of her potentially wanting me in chastity and wanting to wear my key on her neck for the world to see (even if fee pick up on it) makes me a little nervous. I feel like that would break me as a submissive, it would make me realize my place infinitely more deeply and would bring me into a state of submission that is beyond what Im used to or know what to expect from.
So I guess my question is: why do you think Im feeling this way and do you think I should override this nervous and just surrender to that desire of hers (as it comes up) fully? I know these are questions only I could answer but I appreciate your experience and take on this greatly.
Thank you in advance :)
Like a lot of men, you may be way overthinking all this. You're seeing a domme, you have chemistry, and things are going well. And instead of just enjoying all this you are worried that things will go... too well? 🙄
First of all, she may not even want to wear one of those ugly keys. I'm sorry... I know a lot of you men get all hot and bothered but we are not 14 years old here. Those keys are ugly and no woman wants to wear one especially if they are dressed up.
Second, she wants to control your orgasms. That is perfectly acceptable with or without a cage. By asking... demanding that she take control of your orgasms she makes sure that your desire is focused on her and not on your penis. I told my husband many years ago that I wanted all of the control over that and even in times when he was not caged he took that very seriously. To me it represented a huge commitment... and women love to see commitment from men.
I guess what I'm saying is to forget about the cage. That is... the cage is not to prevent orgasms, it is to prevent accidents and temptation... both yours and hers.
🔒Tom here. This is a point that gets overlooked a lot: cages do not prevent orgasms, they simply make them inconvenient. Long before my permanently locked status, I considered it a personal challenge to refrain from unauthorized orgasms. Once, my wife had me going for over 15 very difficult months, no cage. And it's true - women love their men to show commitment.
I also think that you're overthinking this. Orgasm control is a step, wearing a cage for her is another step. I understand that guys can have mixed emotions of love/hate/fear over orgasm control/denial, but instead of approaching it as something taken away from you, try looking at it as a sacrifice you are making for her.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/2e42085eb60d681f935820104446ea39/cd70b00ef28cf4bd-64/s540x810/e8b156651a430512fe1450076ef4a5c14a37faf7.jpg)
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{His woman.}
This is just a fantasy! AU, with princess x servant/bodyguard (?), reader is a badass lady and the servant is head over heels for her. also, have fun reading!
also, I tried to make this as poc! friendly as possible. I have written some parts about hair, but I don't mean it in a bad/racist way. I'm not black, but in this story, you just have problems with your hair like I do, so I literally just inserted myself there. I just made it so other people could maybe relate to my problems too :)
Warnings: suggestive content, Your bodyguard masturbates to you behind closed doors in detail, angst-father issues/trauma/no love (at first, maybe a part two? 👀👀👀), near death experience-but not you
this is more like a story, so buckle up babes! Also, I think I'll make more parts of these, but tell me if you like it!
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I have plenty of weird but also pretty romantic dreams, and in this one, I was some sort of princess who had to choose a husband because of being the next queen and only child and no brother and bla bla bla.
BUT. I also had some sort of, I dunno, servant? Well, someone who always watched me/my back like some sort of bodyguard. The thing was, he was pretty hot. Freckles which adored and accentuated the cheeks, neck, shoulders (+ other body parts 😏), glasses in front of tired, serious eyes, long/dark brown thick/curly locks that were always in a low pony tail and forehead fringes that gave the guy a cute but also at the same time hot look, big nose, broad shoulders, tall, muscular body (but not too buff), nice arms, veiny hands and pretty much everything that would make a woman wet swoon.
Also, the voice was to die for. Do you know professor cal? (I know him from youtube). Yeah, I had his voice in my head as the guard and let me tell you guys, I wanted that guy to become real.
Also, let's call him...Cal, okay? because of professor cal's voice, alright? and his nickname or real name will be Lasco, so when you are alone with him, you call him cal! And you're the only one who's allowed to call him that.
But that's not- okay wait that was mainly the fucking introduction of the guy of my dreams, now let me start with the introduction of the story.
---
"Your majesty, you can't just reject a man blindly-", a nameless maid said, but was interrupted by your soft glare. "And why can't I?", you asked gently, looking at her with an almost pleading look. you wanted to know the answer as well.
Your poor excuse of a brutish father and shitty leader of your country wanted you to be married to an unimportant country. The son from the country was a playboy, treated women like objects, didn't know what sharing meant, stepped and spit on other people and wasn't really interested in you, more attracted to your body.
your mother was a softspoken woman, but since women were still not respected in the monarchy, you wanted to change that. you hated that your mother couldn't stand up for herself. you hated that she got belittled whenever you were around, and you feared that it was much worse when you weren't.
One day, however, it all stopped. and you were the reason.
"Why should I marry him again?", you asked the man who was one of the reasons you came to this world. you hated to call him that.
Father.
ugh.
your 'father' gave you a glare which you reciprocated tenfold, making the geezer sitting in front of you scratch his neck nervously.
"Well, because... because I said so!" "And what use would that bring to our kingdom?"
"How dare you-" "Your highness. please tell me. Why am I going to be betrothed to a man whom I have no information over and who doesn't even seem interested in wanting to get to know me? What use would our marriage have?", you retorted quickly, eyeing the guest to your 'father's' left. His son was right next to him, glaring at you angrily. your mother only looked at you with a shocked expression before standing up to apologize-
"Don't, mother. You have no reason to do that.", you only said coldly while holding a hand towards her direction, awaiting a plausible explanation from the bastard sitting next to your king.
"Listen, me and your father are good friends, and we decided that it'd be a good idea if-"
"So you have no use for the country but just want us to get married to each other because you guys are friends? Or because your whore of a son can't seem to stop getting his dick wet and because I have never touched a man? If that's the reason, THEN YOU CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF!!!", you screamed, pulling your golden sword from it's home-your earrings-and pointed it towards the bastard.
That seemed to be the thing they were not prepared for, because the king from the other country and his son scrambled away while your 'father' was getting angry at you. But, oh boy.
How was the saying again? Like father, like daughter?
If his anger was already bad enough that most people from his own country feared him because of his temper, how would the other countries try to calm yours?
"YOU INSOLENT CHILD! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST DO AS YOU'RE TOLD?! DAY AND NIGHT AM I WORKING-"
"WORKING?! DON'T GIVE ME THAT! WHAT YOU CALL 'WORKING', IS JUST FUCKING OTHER BITCHES, LOOSING YOUR MONEY FROM GAMBLING AND GIVING ALL YOUR DUTIES TO THE POOR SERVANTS!
YOU ARE NO WHERE TO BE CALLED A KING, A LORD OR EVEN A LEADER! YOU'RE NOT EVEN A GOOD FATHER!", you roared, your voice booming louder in the castle than his ever could, grabbing the attention of all the residents of your own, soon to be castle.
your golden sword pointed towards him, and while nearly every servant and some guards gathered together to know what this family fuss was about again, they were shocked and surprised to see that you were pointing your sword at him.
sure, you had arguments and fights with that old geezer, but nothing ever was as serious as this. "You put-" "YOU LISTEN TO ME, YOU POOR EXCUSE OF A MAN, I am done with you humiliating our name, or kingdom, our country. do that you get the hell away from here, with all your fucking concubines and mistresses. and don't you ever show your face in here, or my country again. because if you do...
... then I'll find you and behead you myself."
All he could do was run, run as fast as he could, and while he was still at it, his concubines and bad partners, gambling friends, drinking friends and other bad people he liked to associate with, followed him as well while taking all their belongings, which surprisingly, wasn't less than you imagined.
After the last one was gone, your mother only whispered your name and you immediately threw yourself to the ground in shame in front of your mother. "I beg for forgiveness. Please forgive me for my big mouth and sharp tongue, mother. please don't be mad at me-"
"Mad at you? Oh, my sweet daughter, how could I ever be mad at you?", she asked, opening her arms with tears eyes and a wobbly smile. You ran towards her but held her as gently as you could, like a flower. "I fear that I do not onderstand, mother. Why are you not mad? I put shame on your name for rejecting a noble's proposal...!"
Your mother only chuckled, happy to hold her one reason to stay alive in her arms. She was also glad that everyone saw that her and her daughter were so close and that the rumours about the daughter and the mother hating each other would come to an end. "That's exactly why I am so proud of you, my love. you have mastered what I couldn't and still can not do today; express myself, voice out my uncomfy state, give my opinion...being loud. Being heard. Being understood."
You stroked your mother's back like a mother consoling her child. your mother's nerves were always on haywire when your father was around, and it was tearing your heart apart to see your mother so scared in the presence of that former bastard of a leader.
"I will try my best to help you mother. After all, you are leading this kingdom on your own now. But fear not, I will stay by your side until death will tear us apart. But even then, I will not rest in peace until I have found your soul next to mine and we can be together again, even after we've descended to heaven.", you promised. She only hugged you tighter and released a breath.
Lasco, your bodyguard, who has witnessed your great performance of strength and anger, only watched you in awe, a small blush on his cheeks. See, as you were the crown princess, the next queen and he was your guard, he had to look after you ever since he could remember. he was also your best friend and you and him did pretty much everything together.
Except...
...love.
...
It was actually not fair, to be honest. Cal had a crush on you since the first time he saw you, which was when him and you were children; even when you were chubby, had snot coming out of your nose, and always chaos-hair. what drew him to you was your calm nature. He thought of you like a flower when he first met you. Never bothering anyone. always in your own little world. You never yelled, or got really angry or made a fuss out of everything. Only when something really bothered you, did you frown, pout, and release a small and quiet 'hmpf!' sound, which he cherished forever by grabbing at his chest where his heart belonged whenever you did it.
He also found you really cute. your eyes were so adorably wide and full of wonder, wanting to explore the world with silent pleading. But since it was forbidden, you examined books, maps and even listened to adventurers and businessmen and women who sailed the world like your life depended on it.
Your hair seemed to have a mind of it's own, as it was either perfectly calm, a few strands of hair not wanting to go to their place or your hair pointing to all directions. your personality was also to respect, or gush over.
You were always a calm kid, never dared to trouble your parents, always good with everyone. you tried your best to help everyone and do your homework or train your body to fit into a queen's life. you tried to take as much off of your mother's chest and shoulders as you could, with no regard of self care.
you, with those beautiful eyes, that changed over the years.
Your body, that changed over the years.
Your mind changed too.
But it scared him.
Sure, you've gotten a lot smarter and even more helpful than you already were. you blossomed from a small, sweet, shy, friendly, peace-loving girl to a poisonous, beautifully, deathly and ruthless woman. But Cal was not even close to the mind to complain.
I mean, you've grown up, and so has he. It was just...to him, time flew by so quickly. One moment, he was protecting you from other baby princes from bullying you because of your shy nature, then you and him talked about serious topics like future and love in your teenage years, where he nearly gave out his secret of having a crush on you, and now, you had to choose a husband, rule the kingdom alongside your mother, and forbid war, even when your kingdom was one of the strongest out there.
Cal has fallen for you. And...so have you.
You fell for him the moment he gave you the promise that he'd always protect you. It was when you two were still children. He was eight and you were five at the time, but you could not mistake your warming cheeks and fluttering stomach for anything else but love towards that boy. the first few weeks, you hid from him, spoke as little as possible with him and never looked him in the eyes.
You were wondering every night if Cal knew about how you gave him heart eyes everytime you two locked eyes. or if he maybe thought of you as a pretty girl...? Or if he thought of you as a nuisance, because you thought that you'd be one to him, being a princess and all. Since you had trouble forming big sentences and tended to be shy by nature, even as a grown up, you only gave him commands, asked about his wellbeings, or nodded when he gave you an update about something.
The more days passed, the more you strived to be perfect. Not just for the people you'd have to rule over one day, or your mother, but for him. you wanted to show him that you could become the perfect leader. That you'd become a great queen. You took more care to your body when Cal made some remarks about how skin care was less appreciated these days. your hair seemed to follow your lead too, because over the years, you managed to take proper care of it.
you took more care in the way you dressed, acted, spoke and most importantly, your face. you always frowned, naturally, and you hated it. You hated when people asked you why you were looking so sad or glum or depressed or angry, and you were left irritated. so you always raised your brows to give your face not an irritated, but bored look. Better than nothing, right?
whenever you looked at Cal, you didn't see your bodyguard, but a potential lover. He was always good with kids, treated women with the utmost respect, was one of the strongest men in your kingdom and very handsome.
However, there was one information that shattered your little love world and heart yes and daydreams about Cal; you had to marry a prince. Bodyguards were not allowed as potential husbands, except for when you'd like to have a consort or lover.
You, from that moment on, forbid your feelings towards your longest friend and buried them into the darkest corners of your heart, soul, and mind. and over the months, you managed to hold proper conversations with him, plus, you didn't see him as husband material anymore.
Or so you thought.
...
NSFW:
As you were busy with making new rules, comforting your mother and firing your father's followers, Cal thought that you didn't have any use for him at the moment, which was good.
As fast as he could, he excused himself with a silver plate in front of his crotch and went straight to his room. Beforehand, he made sure that no one was in the hallway, so that they couldn't hear him doing his unholy, and unforgivable act. In his chamber, he whimpered into his hand and his other one grabbed his hard-on. His glasses went down a little, but not that he cared. Lasco moaned into his hand as he slid against the door a little, panting at the thought of you.
You, who so bravely told your father to fuck out of your life with a blade at the bastards throat which you took from your earrings. you, who always was so...cold, but at the same time so unbelievably hot at the same time. His princess, who didn't want any nameless, stupid prince. Cal didn't know what type of prince you'd like. What type of husband would meet your standards. Maybe the fictional characters you've been sighing about with a sweet smile and gazing off with a blissed out face?
C-could he call you... his princess? Could he call you...his girl?
...His woman?
At that thought, Lasco stumbled towards his bed, throwing his belt and pants to the ground before stripping off his underwear and grasping his leaking cock. It may look small in his hands, but if you saw it, you'd be really scared of it's size and girth. Much over average, about 9 and a half inches, and his girth around the width of your wrist. His mushroom head was adorably flushed a light pink, with freckles adorning his shaft and inner thighs- actually his whole body to be honest.
He pumped it a few times, abs already glistening with sweat, whimpering in a high pitched voice again, brows furrowing and shoulders shaking, his nipples growing hard at the cool air of his room, forgetting that he'd get overly sensitive when he got hard because of you. He whined when he immediately had a flashback of him following after you for safety reasons and you suddenly halting in front of him and him stumbling on you, his hips - and so his dick - brushing against your soft, plump ass. When you turned to apologize, there was only a gust of whind in form of his silhouette.
He rubbed his head a little harder, and choked back a sob. His glasses nearly fell off, but he adjusted them while his left hand shook from touching himself. he faced the door this time, his brows furrowing, as he stroked his shaft, the foreskin covering and uncovering his cockhead evertime he moved his hand up and down.
What if somebody came in? How would he explain himself?
Lasco massaged his balls gently, groaning before chuckling breathily, growing shy as he thought of you again with a cute -about to be fucked out- smile on his face.
What if you came in and caught him in this state? How would you react? What would you say? Would you get aroused too? Or bully him? Tease him? Or be disgusted by him for thinking of you so lewdly?
He cried out your name before cumming so suddenly, the orgasm shaking him. His back arched and his thighs squeezed shut a little, and his glasses finally fell down, onto the sheets which were now soiled. He felt like the walls of his room were still echoing your name and he groaned. Cal was laying on his back now, arms spread out and he stared at the ceiling.
He panted, grinning like a madman with a heavy blush. The thought of you catching him in such an incredulous act, with him parting his legs for you and chanting your name like a mantra, giving you a show-
Ah shit. He got hard again. He sighed exasperately.
Just as he was about to do the act again, this time feeling a little more guilty for picturing you doing these things to him, he changed his mind. He stood up, and took a long, cold shower.
END OF NSFW.
...
Now refreshed and not so horny anymore, the bodyguard quickly made his way over to your presence, fixing his posture and taking deep breaths, a neatly written letter which he wrote months ago, only for you and you only to read.
Maybe Cal should just confess and hope that you'd accept his feelings. But he didn't know how you felt about him. Since you were little - since the first time you two fucking met - you never really talked much with him. Cal was left wondering if you even harboured any feelings for him in the first place.
If you didn't then he'd make a total fool out of himself. If you did, then maybe...
Just maybe, he'd become your husband. Your husband, who'd try to read every single wish you had right from your delicate lips. Your lover, who'd be the man of your dreams if you said yes to the very question. Your lover, who'd swear to become the greatest king in history, with you as his strong, smart and beautiful wife. His woman.
He wanted to be yours so bad it hurt him mentally and physically whenever a love interest who wasn't him got brought up. whenever you spoke about maybe visiting or inviting a prince over made him hurl and want to punch a wall.
He didn't notice that he was already in front of your door, your deep, gentle voice immediately reaching his well-trained ears. He allowed himself to smile for a millisecond, then his smile vanished and he stepped inside.
---
Heya, how was that?
I kinda let out everything I thought in here, like for part 2!
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