#i don’t have time to get my work done in the way because of all the meetings! so I have to do some work on the weekends!?! bullshit!!!

[fuschiarulerinthebluebox]

Honestly this is one of the things I like about Rook, they’re NOT qualified for any of the things they’re doing. Like yeah they’ve got some background qualifications but they’re pretty average, just a normal person thrown into trying to save the world. They’re just a little guy ™ who’s personable and pretty solid at planning and utilising the skill sets of people around them (and frankly that’s a deeply undervalued skill in itself, like if you’ve ever had a bad project manager YOU KNOW how big a difference it can make). And let’s be clear, if you’re only picking the generic dialogue options it’s obviously going to feel like Rook has no fucking clue, the faction/background options add so much flavor, I love the little moments where Rook gets to nerd out with the rest of the group. Some of them definitely feel more impactful (looking at you Mourn Watch) but they absolutely allow Rook to speak peer to peer and be competent. But it’s not like the professionals know what they’re doing all the time either, just look at Lucanis at Weisshaupt.

I’ve seen a lot of really interesting takes, my fav is from @fanfoolishness, that even though no one directly addresses Varric’s death with Rook, they’re supportive/ hold space in their own ways (eg. Neve at the Wall of Light, Emmrich in the gardens, Davrin just taking a walk, Bellara having Rook help her light the braziers for Cyrian, Lucanis having Rook help plan the funeral). And navigating a death that big is hard even if you know someone really well, I do wish they had spent a little more time processing that after Rook figures it out but I get why they didn’t as far as timeline. My first play through was MW and I definitely had a moment of “oh no, I haven’t done any rites for Varric”. I do really like the head cannon/ theory that Solas inadvertently tied a little piece of Varric to Rook when he did his little blood magic nonsense, and Rook really is seeing some echo of him.

Along those same lines, as much as I love petting Assan and playing rock paper scissors with Manfred, I wish they had let Rook interact with the party more at the lighthouse outside of the special conversations. Rook in a lot of ways does act like the group therapist, and I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. Can it be a little tedious as the player? Yeah, but for the characters it’s a natural progression of trusting what is essentially your coworker to becoming friends you rely on. Then there’s the twisted funhouse mirror of this same progression with Rook and Solas, going from almost-enemies to not-totally-truthful confidants and then unlikely-unsteady-forced-proximity allies.

I think at its core, Rook feels like a companion to all these “Main Characters” because Varric chose someone like him. Someone who is kind and helpful (see also: all those complaints you can play a mean/evil Rook), makes goofy jokes, listens to the people around them, and isn’t necessarily a hero but can make those hard choices if they need to. And yeah at a meta level it could just be poor writing or the game having been worked over by so many changes over a decade, but if we the player trust Varric we have to remember that Varric and Rook have been traveling together for more than a year and Varric trusts Rook. Rook is leading because Varric trusts them to do what’s right, not because they’re the absolute best at everything, not because they’re a hero. Trust.

This was probably way longer than it needed to be and rambled a little a lot , but I do think it’s a pretty solid game especially after so many revisions, and keeps the souls of a Dragon Age game.

What’s really jumping out at me on my second playthrough is that the writers of the first three games understood that your character was the main character. The Veilguard writers clearly thought that the main characters were their characters, the companions.

Every scene is about setting the companions up as cool or competent or sympathetic. Often, this is done at Rook’s expense. The companions get all the witty one-liners; Rook’s attempts at humor not only frequently fall flat, but are frequently called out for falling flat (even when they’re completely automatic and the player has no say in them).

The companions have all the knowledge and skills; Rook just brought them all together and gives them all pep talks so they can focus. I’m trying to edit out all of the comments where Rook is like “Um… what????” from my videos, and let me tell you, it takes WORK. There are A LOT of them. I can count on one hand the number of times when the Inquisitor or Hawke comes across as dumb, but it seems to be a built-in, unavoidable part of Rook’s character. I have not selected a single “purple” option in all of Act 1, and Rook is still coming across as the kid who tries to be the class clown to cover for the fact that he’s always confused. Rook’s role in most scenes is to say “Uhhh… what?” so that the companions look smart.

Rook is always the one offering sympathy and never the one getting it. No one actually comes to comfort you after Varric’s death. No one asks you how you’re feeling about having to lead the team now that Varric is gone. No one tries to reassure you or give you advice for dealing with the trickster god haunting your dreams. We’re told that Neve could keep Solas out of your head, but she never actually offers to do this for you. No one comforts a Shadow Dragon Rook when Minrathous is destroyed or a Grey Warden Rook when Weisshaupt is destroyed. Rook’s problems don’t matter. Only the problems of main characters matter.

Rook is a secondary character in their own story.

[janeyseymour]

Overheated

Summary: sometimes you faint. a certain someone is always there to catch you.

WC: ~2.3k

“Melissa, I’m fine,” you grumble as you roll out of bed that day. “Just PMS.”

“And you know how that shit knocks you out,” your wife mutters, although she does allow you to get up. She knows you’ve already used your sick days earlier in the year when you caught the flu.

“Well, it can’t today,” you grunt and groan as you change into your work clothes. “I can’t afford to not get paid, and I don’t want Mr. J as my sub again.”

“I told you, we can survive without one day of your pay if you really feel as shitty as I think you do,” Melissa tells you as she snakes her arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple.

You turn slightly in her arms to kiss her softly. “I know, but I really don’t need Mr. J teaching my kids that the moon landing was fake.”

“You know my thoughts on that conspiracy theory,” the redhead chuckles softly as she lets you go. When you grimace in pain, she mumbles to herself, “Can’t forget the heating pad and Midol today.”

“And Excedrin,” you whine.

“Hun, if your head is pounding too,” Melissa looks to you with sympathy.

You stand strong though. “I’m going. I’ll just teach with the lights off and from my desk today.”

“Stubborn as a Schemmenti,” your wife rolls her eyes. “I swear.”

“I am a Schemmenti now,” you quip with a smirk before you feel a shoot pain that causes you to wince.

“And I am so thankful for that,” Melissa promises you as she kisses your head again. With that, the two of you head down the steps for breakfast.

Your breakfast is, while painful, a wonderfully quiet and warm haze. Your wife all but forces you to sit at the table while she prepares the coffee and meal, along with handing you the hot water bottle for you to hold to your abdomen.

As you leave for work, you would venture to say that you feel slightly better than you did when you first woke up. Still, you know you probably shouldn’t push yourself too hard. You vow to yourself (and your fiercely protective spouse) that you’ll do everything you can to teach from your chair today.

For whatever reason, your students are completely out of hand today in every single way. From the second they step into your classroom, you can tell it’s going to be a terrible day- a day where no matter how much you want to resign yourself to sitting in your chair, you simply can’t. You find yourself hovering over your students no matter what their assignment is, pacing the aisles that you’ve created in your classroom. It’s terrible- completely and utterly horrid. You can’t sit with your heating pad, you didn’t even bring a hot water bottle, your head has started to pound again with the class’s volume. It’s absurd.

When lunch time comes around for your students, you practically drag them down- hopeful for a full lunch period of peace and quiet in your classroom; you’ve already decided that you aren’t making it to the staff lounge today. Instead you’ll take your wife’s teasing at the fact that you are so unwell that you couldn’t even fathom coming to have lunch with her.

But of course, because as the universe decides, you don’t get to treat yourself to a quiet lunch. No, instead, you’re running around like an idiot trying to make sure that you’re students all have lunch, and when you think you’ll be able to go for the last ten minutes to eat your lunch in silence, you’re pulled into an issue surrounding your student who hasn’t had lunch money for the past two weeks (a problem unknown to you).

You go in circles with Shanae for a few minutes before you finally roll your eyes and fork over the money in order to get him a lunch and placate the irritable lunch lady.

“Coulda done that in the first place,” she grumbles as she snatches the money from your hand and begins to count it.

At this point, you only have about five minutes left of your lunch time. There’s no use in going to back to your classroom- not when you would just have to turn right back around. So instead, you sit in the hallway for the last few minutes before leading them back down to your classroom.

You think to yourself that you’ll just eat while your kids have their special, only to realize that you indeed do not have a special. You lost the only time to yourself today. You sigh as you instruct your students to get out a book for five minutes while you collect yourself again.

Hastily, you reach for your phone, hoping to convince your wife to bring you your meal from the staffroom. Upon the device lighting up, you see quite a few concerned messages from Melissa.

You coming down for lunch?

Hun?

I’m coming to your room.

Did you leave early?

And then a few minutes later, the last text comes in. Saw you in the cafeteria. Love you.

Sorry, you respond. Had an issue with Taijon’s lunch and left my phone in the classroom. Do you think you have a few minutes to bring me my lunch?

I can’t, your wife texts. I don’t have prep today- with the gym teacher out. I’m sorry hun. Are you okay? I can have Barb head down during her prep?

No, no, don’t bother her. I’ll be fine.

Are you fine?

I will be, you send before setting your phone down and starting class again. 

It turns out, as luck would have it, that you are indeed not fine. Despite the Diet Coke that you put into your purse this morning for an extra jolt of caffeine, your head is still pounding, you’re absolutely exhausted, and your cramps are only getting worse. Whether they’re getting worse because your period is incoming or if it’s because you haven’t eaten anything other than the few bites of breakfast you could manage because of your nausea, who can say. 

Your wife sees how pale and slightly green you look while you’re dismissing your students. She knows that tonight is going to be an early night, one with a heating pad pressed against your abdomen, and in turn, hers because you’ll be laying on top of her.

“How’re you feeling?” she still asks you as she makes her way over.

“Fine,” you grumble. “Just want to get home.”

“As soon as all of the kids are gone, we can sneak out. Yeah?” You can only nod.

It’s a few minutes later that all of your kids have left the school grounds, and you sigh in slight discomfort as you make your way back into the school. You’re starting to feel warmer and warmer, and the redhead has an arm around your waist the entire walk down to your classroom, where she gathers your things for you and slings them over her shoulder. And then the two of you are making your way down to her classroom. And while you really did think you were fine- that you just had to make it home before collapsing onto the couch and staying there until it was time to retire for bed- but it turns out you aren’t. You start to stumble just slightly as a wave of dizziness hits you to accompany the hot flash you seem to be in the middle of. 

“Hun?” Melissa’s eyes quickly dart to you as she feels just the slightest shift in weight.

You’re able to catch yourself on her doorframe. “I’m good. Just a little-”

And then you go down. Melissa’s one arm isn’t strong enough to hold you up as you faint in her arm. To her credit though, your wife does try to grab you with her other hand. Unfortunately, she’s not quick enough, and her engagement ring manages to catch on the skin of your cheek as she flounders to reach for you and cuts you.

“Fuck!” your wife yells out loud enough to attract the attention of the teachers who have also come inside. Barbara is the first one to run to Melissa’s room- only to see you on the floor with a bloody cheek that is now spilling onto the carpet.

“Oh dear God!” the kindergarten teacher sputters as she kneels down beside you and the redhead. “What happened?”

“I- I don’t know,” Melissa mutters as she lays you down on your back. “She hasn’t been feeling well, but I-”

You open your eyes groggily, only to groan at the florescent lights hitting you. You screw them shut again.

“Mi amore,” your wife mumbles as she presses a tissue to your cheek. Then she turns to look at Barbara. “Can you grab me her bottle of water?”

No sooner is your water bottle straw being brought to your lips as Melissa props you up, and you take a sip quickly. And then you’re trying to sit up on your own and pull the tissue catching your blood from your face. Strong hands just keep you on the ground though.

“Lis, I’m perfectly-”

“Did you want to finish that thought?” the redhead interrupts you. “Did you want to finish blaming that you’re perfectly fine? Or are you going to faint again?”

You jut out your bottom lip as you succeed in pulling the tissue away from you cheek. “Be nice to me,” you pout. “I’m injured, and not feeling well.”

Green eyes are rolled with such love. “Oh, so now you admit it? There’s blood on my floor.”

“I’ll clean it up.” You go to move, but once again, you’re glued to the woman holding you in her arms.

“Like hell you will,” Melissa mumbles as she presses a kiss to your unmarked cheek. “What you will be doing is laying on the floor for a few minutes while I clean it up, and then we’re going home.”

“Dear, why did you faint?” Barbara asks as she switches places with the redhead. “Did you eat today?”

You hum softly as you take another sip of water. “I had a few bites of breakfast this morning, but that’s all I could manage.”

“No wonder you passed out. Why didn’t you eat lunch?”

You shrug.

“Or ask one of us to bring it to you?”

Again, you shrug. “Didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Next time,” both older women grumble. “Be a smaller bother than fainting after school.”

“Noted.”

It’s only a few minutes later that you’re feeling well enough to sit up on your own. And when you go to stand, you find that you’re instead being swept off your feet and into the arms of your wife.

“You’re not fainting again,” Melissa tells you sternly. She whisks you out of the classroom and in the direction of your cars, leaving Barbara to follow along with all of your belongings.

“Guys,” you grumble, although you do wrap your arms around Melissa’s neck and lean into her slightly. “I’m fine.”

“Fine my ass,” Melissa huffs as she sets you down in the passenger seat. She turns to the kindergarten teacher and takes both of your belongs before sighing. “Thanks for the help, Barb.”

“Anything for family,” the woman smiles sweetly, although then she turns to you with a stern look. “I do hope that you won’t be making a habit of this though.”

You turn red under Barbara’s steely gaze. “I won’t.” 

Since that first incident, you’ve been a lot better about taking care of yourself- although you do have to admit that sometimes you’re only remembering to take care of yourself because of your wonderful wife (and Barbara, at times). You don’t end up fainting at school again- thank goodness.

Well, that is until you’re attempting to hide the fact that you’re pregnant. You and your wife had only recently discovered that you were with child.

It’s May- an unusually hot month that you’re sitting in a school without air conditioning. You can feel the flush in your cheeks as you’re sitting in the staff room with your coworkers, your wife’s hand resting warmly on your thigh.

“Off,” you mumble as you practically throw her hand off of you and begin to fan yourself with your hand.

The redhead looks at you, clearly confused, but then she sees the red in your cheeks, and she knows you’re going through a hot flash- one of the few symptoms that you’ve had of this pregnancy so far.

“Are you-” and then you go down.

Melissa, who had dealt with this a few times (the first time being when you had passed out and she forced you to take a test), moves in a calm and purposeful manner. She has the lollipop to help with the nausea that is bound to overtake you, your water bottle, and then she’s down by your side quickly.

“She’s eating!” Barbara shouts in disbelief. “How could she faint?!”

When you come to a few seconds later, you let out a heavy sigh. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“If you knew you were getting overheated, you should’ve asked for an ice pack like you do at home,” you wife tuts.

“Sorry,” you mumble as you take a few sips of water.

“This isn’t good for you or the baby,” Melissa sighs, entirely forgetting where she’s at in the moment. The only thing she cares about is you.

“The what?!” Jacob practically shouts, being the first one to hear this news and let it sink in.

“You’re with child?!” Barbara cries not a moment later.

You bite your lip and look to your wife, who is about as red as her hair. “Uhm… surprise?”

Tags

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[darlingdaisyfarm]

───୨ৎ praise that old man, girl!

a/n: i adore Stanley Pines and apparently im not alone because the amount of asks i got for nsfw with this man?? who am i to deny the people what they want?? also one anon asked for public sex with Stanley sooo here you go angel!

tags: nsfw, smut, vaginal and oral sex (f receiving), age gap, dirty talk, older man/younger woman, degradation + praise, size kink, dumbification, public sex, rough sex, breeding kink

You hadn’t exactly walked into the Mystery Shack with dreams of employment. Stan had hired you on the spot, half-serious when he said he couldn’t afford to be picky. “you got a pulse? can count to ten? good, you’re in,” while shoving a broom into your hands.

You’d been working here for a while now and Stanley Pines had somehow, against all reason, taken a liking to you. You weren’t like the other employees, you were sarcastic and always ready with a quick comeback. It didn’t take long for Stan to notice and he loved the fact that you didn’t take his shit. He loved how you could dish it out just as good as he could.

You genuinely liked your work. The old place had its charm and Stan, despite his grumpy act, was actually funny in his own way.

You were sharp, quick with the same kind of deadpan humor Stan wielded like a weapon. when tourists asked the weirdest and dumbest questions as “how does this yeti paw feel so real?”, you’d shrug and go, “oh, Mr. Pines wrestled the guy for it last spring! you should’ve seen him in the ring.”

And somehow, your nonsense never grated on him.

He’d grumble about you “driving him crazy,” but the truth was, he admired how you handled people, how you could spin up a lie on the spot and sell it with a sly smirk. Even when you worked him up, you had a knack for knowing how to make him laugh before he could stay mad.

Like the time you’d swapped the “do not touch” signs in the gift shop with ones reading “please steal this.” When Stan stormed out of his office, you barely flinched. “don’t blame me. Soos did it,” you’d said again and he’d folded his arms, sighing.

“Kid, you’re gonna give me an ulcer.”

“Then you’ll get to take a vacation, Mr. Pines.”

You had a way of making him feel younger, somehow. Not just the old man with a bad back and a million regrets. Around you, he felt like the guy who still had a chance to make someone smile. And god, he loved that.

Because, god, you talk back, crack jokes, get in his face with that stupid grin of yours. And he knows you know how to get under his skin. It’s annoying and hilarious at the same time.

You’re a disaster of a worker. He’ll admit that to anyone, but for some reason, Stan forgives you. every time. “who did this? who messed up the brochures?” and you always say the same thing “Soos.”

And fuck, he adores it, the way you lie so easily and confidently. He's not mad, but charmed by it. And maybe a little turned on too, but he’ll never admit that out loud.

“You know, i should fire you, right?”

“Yeah, but you won’t, cause i’m too cute, Mr. Pines.”

Stan had wanted to stay mad, but how could he? Every time you messed up, he found a way to let it slide, not because you were good at covering your tracks, but because you always knew just what to say, how to make him forget the shit you’d done. You made it all worth it.

The pick-up lines started a few weeks in. At first, they were awful, so bad that you’d nearly die of secondhand embarrassment. “you must be tired, ‘cause you’ve been running through my mind all day, doll,” he'd say with a lazy wink. and, of course, you’d always have something ready: “you should probably take a nap then, Mr. Mystery, you’re getting old.”

The first time Stanley tried to flirt with you, he didn’t know how it’d feel. He was always smooth, always had a line ready, but it always went wrong with you. “you know, i must be a snowflake ‘cause i’m falling for you.” but before he could even get the whole line out, you shot back, “snowflakes melt. Is that really how you want to end up?”

He’d blink, caught off guard, then chuckle. “smartass.”

But Stan, the bastard, he loved that about you.

He loved how you never pretended to be anything you weren’t. No frilly nonsense or sugar-coating, just honest humor that reminded him of his own shitty jokes. You didn’t back down, never tiptoed around him, and he couldn’t even be mad when you lied about the mess-ups.

His flirts were always the same, predictable, corny, but somehow, Stan delivered them with the precision of a seasoned performer. He would laugh at your attempts to flirt back what made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. “you’re cute when you’re trying to be a romantic,” you say as you lean against the counter with a teasing grin. “but i’m still gonna need a drink to believe you.”

Stanley grew bolder though. “if I were a few years younger. . .”

“You’d still be a pervert?”

“Nah, just a smooth talker, toots,” he’d grin, trailing his fingers over a stack of papers as you walked past, brown eyes never leaving you

The more you two exchanged these ridiculous lines, the more the tension built. The fake flirting, the dumb compliments, it was a game to both of you and neither of you could stop playing.

The shack is empty, just for now. It's an early morning in Gravity Falls, the aroma of coffee that Stan insisted on brewing too strong fills the air. He was at the counter, organising some brochures for the tours, his usual tourist-trap grin nowhere to be found yet.

Tourists haven’t arrived yet.

You were running a little late today, again. Not that Stanley really cared, but he always pretended to. The man was predictable like that. By now, you’d learned that his bark was worse than his bite, though sometimes, you didn’t mind the idea of getting a little bitten.

You walk into the Shack with coffee in one hand and bag slung over your shoulder, the creak of the floorboards greeting you. Stan was leaning against the counter when you came, scribbling something on his clipboard, his back turned to you. And that’s when you saw it.

He wasn’t wearing his girdle and it was impossible not to notice the soft swell of his stomach beneath his shirt.

Fuck. You swallow hard, trying to act normal, but there’s no stopping the heat pooling low in your belly. Mr. Pines, all thick and broad, strong arms, messy morning hair, his belly curving under his chest, that's just too much

And while anyone else might have held back, might’ve thought better of sneaking up on their boss, you didn’t hesitate. The moment you saw him, your lips curled into a smirk.

He hasn’t noticed you yet.

Stepping closer, your let your hands slide over his clothes until your palms rested against the warm curve of his belly. He jumps immediately, his hand jerking across the paper, leaving a thick, jagged line of ink.

“What the— hey! what’re you doin’, kid?!”

“Just admiring my boss?” you grin wider, leaning into him.

Another grumpy “pfft. yeah, right.” comes your way when Stan moves to brush your hands away, but you just dig your fingers in harder, letting your breasts press against his back.

“You’ve been hiding this from me all this time? What a shame.”

His face burns instantly, bright red flushing up his neck. “dammit, don’t go grabbin’ me like that! i’m too old for—”

“Oh, come on,” you cut him off, crowding him against the counter. “you’re not too anything. in fact,” your fingers dip just slightly below his beltline, teasing. “i think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Perfect? hah, are you outta your damn mind? Look at me! I’m no spring chicken, alright? i’ve got—”

“Got what, Mr. Pines?” you interrupt. “nice body?” your nails scrape lightly against your boss, earning a shaky exhale from him. “i like it. a lot.”

“Cut it out, kid, this ain’t the kinda body women go crazy for. You’re wastin’ your time”

You frown. “says who?”

He huffs in embarrassment. “C’mon, you've seen it. I'm too old and- and uh, rough around the edges?”

“Damn, exactly what i like,” his whole body stiffens under your touch. “big strong hands, broad chest and this belly, i want all of it, Mr. Pines.”

“You got a filthy mouth, y’know.”

“Oh, i had a good teacher.” you giggle, feeling him already getting hard. “you ever been touched like this, Mr. Pines?”

Stan exhales hard, irritated and flustered. “‘course I have, don’t talk like I’m some goddamn virgin.”

“Thats not what i meant.” your nails scrape, dragging slow over his belly, over the dips and curves.

He tries to change the tactics then. “listen, sweetie, i’m too old for this shit, alright? you- you deserve some young, pretty guy who—“

“Who what? who doesn’t look half as good as you? who can’t make me laugh the way you do? who doesn’t make me want to do this? i like it thick, broad, strong. You could just throw me around and have your way with me, Mr. Pines.”

Stanley fucking stops breathing. Hes hesitating because he doesn’t want to admit he’s just as fucking hungry for this as you are.

He runs a hand over his face, trying and failing to keep his composure. “You- you’re crazy, y’know that?” but you always knew how to get under his skin.

“Admit it, you’d miss me if i wasn’t here to keep you on your toes.” your fingertips graze his bulge once more and that's it. Stan’s breath stutters in his throat.

“Hot belgium waffles, you better be serious, sweetheart.” he’s already turning, crowding you against the counter, gripping your waist, your hips, your ass.

“Why wouldn’t i be?” you gasp after you say the last word when he palms your tits, kneads them roughly.

“You wanna be fucked like that? like a real man oughta do it?” he leans closer to your face. You nod too eagerly and Stan doesn’t waste a second “we better make this quick,” while his fingers already yanking at your clothes, dragging you onto the counter, pressing his mouth to yours.

Quick. Ha.

Stan kisses like he’s trying to eat you alive, pushing his tongue into your mouth. You moan, grinding against him, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing into your stomach

You should have known better. Should’ve known better than to touch him like that, to let your fingers linger on the soft curve of his belly as he stood there, all unbuttoned and exposed. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because the moment your hands landed there, the pull was too strong, and you knew that if you didn’t take it now, you’d burn up inside.

“You sure you want this, baby? ‘cause once i start, i’m not stoppin.” you nod, gasping for breath, and that’s all he needs. “good, i’ve been holding back long enough.” he gropes you, touches you everywhere, his hands roaming over your back, squeezing your ass.

“Fuck, these are perfect,” your bra is barely on you before he’s palming your tits, squeezing rough, thumbing your nipples, watching them peak.

He licks his lips, then leans down and latches on. Wet, sucking, pulling noises fill the Shack. You arch, whimper, push into his mouth and he groans. “needy little thing, ain’t ya?” he switches breasts, drags his tongue over the swell, teeth scraping before sucking your nipple into his mouth, rolling it, flicking it.

Stanley Pines, despite his gruff exterior, is a sweaty mess in front of you. A man that had given up, probably, on ever being seen as sexy. That’s what made it so deliciously easy to shatter him. To break that cold shell. Because he didn’t see it, did he? He didn’t see how much his body, his age, even his wrinkles, didn’t matter to you. You just want him to feel it. You want him to feel desired, so badly.

“Fucking hell, yer driving me insane, toots.”

You laugh breathlessly. “don’t be so dramatic, old man. You’re tougher than you look.”

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one,” he growls as he pushes you back against the counter, gripping your thighs.

His mouth is on you again, kissing down your neck, biting, his tongue leaving hot scorching wet trails that fill your stomach with butterflies. You grind against him, feeling the press of his cock through his pants.

“You want this, huh? want me to fuck you right here, where anyone could walk in?”

“Yes, i need you, Mr. Pines.” your hands grip his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Stanley presses his thick fingers against your underwear, circling your throbbing clit through your panties, drawing soft sounds from your lips.

“Already so wet. Hell, you’re gonna take me so good, aren’t ya? this tight little pussy’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”

You moan, your head falling back, your body arching against him as he works you with his fingers faster, harder.

“Please, please, please, need you!” then, out of the blue, or maybe because you're too lost to even care so you'd mumble everything that comes out of your mouth, you quietly admit. “Mr. Pines, f-fuck, ive touched myself to the thought of you—”

Stanley looks at you. “say that again.”

“I've thought about you, i fingered myself imagining it was your cock.” you say quietly, looking at him with little hearts in your puppy eyes.

“Jesus christ, you filthy little thing.”

“Stan—”

“Mr. Pines.” fuck. the way he corrects you, heat coils in your stomach, between your legs. “You wanna get fucked good, you use the right name.”

“M-Mr. Pines—fuck, please—” his fingers press harder, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clothed clit.

“Soaked. And i ain’t even touched you yet.” you whine, pressing into his hands, your hips twitching. And that bastard laughs. “poor thing, you really need it, huh? sweetie, you’re lucky i’m not makin’ you beg for it.” yet, he forgot to add.

You’re about to retort, but then his fingers slide your panties to the side, spreading your folds, dragging through your wet slit.

“Fuck, baby, dripping all over my fingers.”

“N-need you—”

“Aw, yeah? that so?” he pushes a finger in your pussy so fucking slow, savouring the way your little cunt takes his thick digit, already imagining how perfect it'd be with his cock instead. “tight angel, fuck, so tight.” Stan manhandles you roughly, spreading your legs with his hands, kneeling in front of you, about to devour you whole. You feel his hot breath against your core and when he leans in and his tongue finally licks a long, slow stripe through your folds, you swear you see stars.

“Taste even better than i thought,” he groans, voice muffled against your pussy. His big hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking like a man starved.

“Mr. Pines—oh my g-god—” Stanley keeps grunting and moaning, the vibration sending shocks through your body.

“Fuck, keep sayin’ my name like that. Can’t get enough of you, doll.” his warm tongue flicks your swollen clit and he slides two fingers into you, curling them, scissoring. Your hips buck against his face, but he holds you down with one arm across your stomach. “Stay still, princess, let me take care of you.”

You’re already close and he knows it, his fingers pumping into you faster, his mouth relentless on your clit. You fall over the edge with a cry, your thighs trembling as he works you through it, fingers still moving, tongue still teasing, until you’re begging him to stop from overstimulation, tugging his hair. Stanley pulls back, lips and chin glistening and grins like the filthy bastard he is. “cant believe i’ve been missin’ out on this.”

He stands, towering over you and you reach for him, fumbling with his belt. When the metal buckle clinks loudly in the quiet of the Shack, Stanley impatiently shoves his pants down to free himself.

Your gaze drops and your eyes widen. Jesus christ.

“Like what you see?”

“I’d be stupid not to,” you grin, reaching out to wrap your fingers around him, making him curse under his breath, his hips jerking into your hand as he grabs your wrist, guiding you to pump his hard length slowly.

But you two don't have much time so he holds your panties aside with one hand, lining himself up with the other and with a single thrust, Stan buries himself inside you, stretching you so perfectly it makes your vision blur.

“Fuck,” his hands grip your hips so hard you were sure there will be bruises. “you’re so fuckin’ tight and warm. Goddamn, sweetheart.”

Your response breaks off into a whimper as he starts moving, slow at first to let you get used, his hips rolling into yours smoothly.

“That’s it, take it, baby, all of me.” you let out a soft moan, looking down where you both connected and he grins, pressing his hand against your stomach, where the outline of him bulged beneath your skin. “look at that, i’m so fuckin’ deep, i can feel myself here. You feel it, baby? feel me stretchin’ ya open?”

You nod frantically, your head spinning with every relentless thrust as he stretches you in ways you didn’t think possible. You cry out, your nails raking down his back, your body arching against him as he sets a brutal pace, driving into you over and over again.

“Such a pretty little thing, lettin' an old bastard like me ruin ya.”

You can only nod, your needy voice lost to the pleasure as youre getting fucked that good, right here in the Shack, where anyone could walk in.

He’s watching you, watching your pussy stretch around his fat cock, watching the way you tremble. His big hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, forcing you to take all of him.

“Bet no one’s ever fucked you like this before, huh?” he slams into you again, making the counter creak beneath you. Using his strong hands he keeps you in place as his cock drives in and out of your dripping, swollen cunt.

“C'mon, answer me, baby,” he growls, his hand sliding up to grab your jaw, forcing your glazed-over eyes to meet his. His cock buries deep, hitting that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble. ”didn’t ask for silence. you ever been fucked like this before?”

Your eyes are closed as you shake your head, whimpering. “n-no.”

“No, what?”

"N-no one’s ever fucked me like this, Mr. Pines—”

“Good girl, use your words,” Stan grips your chin and forces you to meet his gaze. “tell me how much you love this cock.”

“S-so much,” you manage to choke out between pathetic whines and mewls, your brain turning into useless mess. “i love it, i love you, Mr. Pines, don’t stop!” tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Poor thing, all those boys before me and none of ‘em knew how to stretch this perfect cunt open right.” he shifts his hips, grindings his cock against your walls, making you sob. “bet they didn’t even know how to fuck you proper, huh? didn’t know how to make ya beg?”

You shake your head and gasp, clinging to him.

His hand slides down your body, rough fingers rubbing over your swollen, sensitive clit. “owwh, they never even made ya cum, did they, sweetheart?”

“No, they didn’t, Mr. Pines.”

“Fuckin’ shame. all those useless boys, never knew what they were missin’.” his thumb circles your clit. “but don't worry, this pussy’s mine now, ya hear me? No one else’s. I’m the only one who can fuck ya like this, make ya feel this good.”

“Mr. Pines, ple-please. . .’

“Please what, sugar?” he pants, fucking you so deep you swear you feel him rearranging your insides.

You sob, tears spilling from your pretty eyes. “p-please, make me cum—” Stan doesn’t let up, not even for a second. His cock is buried so deep inside you that you can barely breathe and think, barely do anything but moan and take it like the filthy little thing you are.

“Aw, baby, you gonna cum already? just from my cock stretchin’ ya open like this?” you nod, your body tightening around him. “fuck, that’s right, sweetheart, squeeze me just like that. Never thought i’d get to ruin somethin’ so perfect.” his pace picks up, his cock pounding into you so hard you’re sure the counter’s going to break.

You were supposed to keep it quick. just a little pre-tour fuck as you both said.

But thirty minutes turned into sixty and sixty turned into absolute depravity.

The counter was first, but then Stan couldn’t stop. His cock is buried deep inside your soaked, needy cunt as his hands hold you while he thrusts into you.

"Fuckin’ christ, doll, this pussy’s gonna be the death of me."

You had your legs around his waist, arms locked around his neck, Stanley fucking into you so deep you felt like you’d pass out. But then he lifted you up, didn’t even bother pulling out, just carried you like you weighed nothing, still fucking up into you, and took you across the shack like a man possessed.

“Mr. Pines!” and “so good!” were the only words you knew.

“Thought we were keepin’ this quick, huh?” he grunts. “then why the fuck can’t i stop?”

You can’t even answer because your mouth is too busy moaning, gasping, babbling absolute nonsense while he splits you open, every inch pushing against your soft, sensitive walls, stuffing your tight pussy full.

You arch your back, sobbing, because you need it fast again, rough again, animalistic again. And he fucking gives it to you, by grabbing your thighs, folding you in half and absolutely destroying you.

“Fuckin’ filthy girl, letting an old bastard like me ruin this tight little pussy. Even dreamed about this, ugh, layin’ awake at night, fingers buried in that needy little cunt, wishin’ it was me.”

What can you say except loud “yesyesyes!” gasps? However, Stanley is satisfied with that.

“Yeah? bet you’re never gonna want anyone else fuckin’ you again.”

He doesn’t stop. Every display case. Every fake cryptid setup. Even the damn vending machine.

“You're so fuckin’ wet, doll, i could slide into this little cunt with no effort at all.”

Fake exhibits? fucked over them. That fake monster cage? Bent over it. That dusty-ass animatronic Stan managed to steal? yeah, he fucked you right in front of it, hands gripping your ass, hips slamming into yours so hard the damn thing started moving

Stan literally punched it to shut it up.

But did he stop? no.

“Shut the hell up, buddy,” he muttered to the machine, before shoving his cock back inside you and making you scream.

but the final round?

Staff room.

Both of you panting, sweaty, while he takes you from behind, balls slapping against your throbbing clit, the slick sound of skin on skin echoing through the empty Shack.

Or, well, not so empty anymore, because suddenly you hear the honk of a tourist bus outside.

Stan’s head snaps up. “oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me—”

His eyes dart to the stupid clock on the wall and he actually freezes for a second.

“We— we were supposed to open, like—shit, twenty minutes ago.”

“So? keep going.” you say lazily under him.

“Oh, you’re gonna get me in trouble.” but does he stop? does he fucking stop?

No, no he does not. Instead, he fucks you harder.

“I'm gonna make this quick, baby, gonna fill you up real nice, then i gotta—fuck—gotta get to work—“

But then— “uh, Mr. Mystery?”

fuck.

Stan’s body locks up and you both freeze. The voice is right outside the door. Stanley lets out the deepest, most exhausted sigh. “Uh, yeah?”

The tourist hums. “sooo i was wondering, when does the tour start? we’ve been waiting outside for a while.”

Stan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “yeah, yeah, uh, give me five minutes, kid, i got, uh, got a bad back today, y'know? just need a second to—uhhh—” you clench around him, tight, so fucking tight and his words cut off in a groan.

He glares at you. you just smirk.

“You okay in there, Mr. Mystery?”

Stan forces his voice steady. “yeah, yeah, just—” he grits his teeth. “just need a minute to stretch it out.” he snaps his hips forward, stuffing his cock back into your cunt, deep and slow, forcing you to feel every thick, throbbing inch

You whimper, just to fuck with him because this old man is so funny when annoyed.

“Fuckin’ hell, stop that.” he growls under his breath at you.

But the tourist won’t leave.

“So, uh, what’s the official policy on taking pictures of the fake exhibits?”

Stan’s eye twitches, his hips jerk forward involuntarily and you let out a choked gasp.

The tourist pauses.

“Mr. Mystery? are you sure you're okay?”

Stan immediately shoves a hand over your mouth. “Told you, just back’s actin’ up, kid.”

The tourist keeps talking.

“What do you think the likelihood is of alien activity in oregon? because personally, i think—”

You clench around him again. Stan chokes on a groan, his cock throbbing inside you as he tries to keep his voice normal.

“Listen, kid, why don’t you, uh, go look at the gift shop or somethin’, huh?”

“Oh, but i wanted to ask about—”

Stan loses it

“NOT NOW, KID. TOUR STARTS IN TEN MINUTES. LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE.”

“Ohh. . . Okay?” fucking finally, you hear footsteps and door creaking, that idiot leaving

Stanley slumps forward, forehead against your shoulder.

“Poor Mr. Mystery,” you tease, moving your hips. “just trying to do his job, but this damn girl won’t stop teasing him—”

“Ohhh, you thought you were so fuckin’ cute, huh?” the deep rasp of his voice sends shivers down your spine. His chest is pressed against your back, his weight holding you down while his cock still stuffed inside your ruined cunt. “moanin’ all pretty while i was tryna talk? teasin’ me in front of that dumbass tourist. Makin’ those fuckin’ sounds on purpose. Thought i wouldn’t do somethin’ about it?”

You yelp when his hand grips your hair, yanking your head back just enough to whisper against your ear. “you wanna act like a dumb little slut? then i’m gonna fuck you like one.” after that, Stan pulls out slowly, torturously just to slam back in.

You cry out. No, the sound you make would be better described as pathetic loud whine.

But Stan slaps a hand over your mouth, pressing you into the couch. “uh-uh, pretty, you don’t get to be loud now. you lost that privilege.”

His cock is so deep, stretching your cunt open, filling you completely. Every thrust is hard, brutal, messy, wet. Your pussy clenches around him, sucking him in, greedy for more as you whimper into his big palm. The couch creaks under you, the whole room still eerily silent except for the filthy, wet sounds of him using you.

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby? thought you liked teasin’ me. now you can’t even take my cock?” as you nearly fall from the fast rhythm. Stan laughs against your ear. “thought you wanted me to fuckin’ ruin you, huh? turn this sloppy little cunt into my personal fuckhole?”

You can't even moan as Stan snaps his hips up, hitting so deep it knocks the breath from your lungs.

“What’s the matter, princess? feelin’ a little too full?” his belly presses against your back, his size overwhelming you, his weight pinning you down, making sure you can’t run from him as he grabs your waist, pulls you back onto him, forces you to take every inch. “ this little cunt’s gonna take every last drop, huh? ‘cause that’s what you are, ain’tcha?”

His fingers grip your jaw, turning your head so he can look in your glassy eyes.

“Say it, sweetie. Tell me what you are.”

Your brows knit together. “m’ your dumb little slut, Mr. Pines. . .m’ made to take your cock—” words come out barely coherent through the lewd slap of skin-on-skin filling the room.

Damn right. His hand slides down, finding your clit, rubbing it fast. Your body jerks, overstimulated.

“Too much?” his voice is mocking. “too fuckin’ bad, baby. Shoulda thought of that before you started actin’ like a brat.”

You’re already close again, what is it now, your sixth orgasm? Eighth? You shake too hard in his hands as your cunt spasms around his cock.

“Gonna fill you up, doll. make you fuckin’ mine. you want that? lemme hear you beg.”

”P-please. . . ple, mhm. . .hhng . .” your words muffled against his palm.

“Please what?”

“Please—please breed my messy cunt, Mr. Pines—please, please—”

“Holy shit, baby, you want me to breed this little pussy? want me to fill you so full you’ll be drippin’ down your thighs all day?”

You nod frantically and Stanley feels you smile widely against his skin what makes him laugh. Such a dumb slut you are.

“Greedy little thing. y'know i gotta work today, right?” his cock throbs inside you, stuffing you so full you can feel him in your stomach. ”but fuck- fuck, baby, can’t help it.” his hips snap forward, burying himself completely as he cums, making you feel every pulse, every throbbing rope of his hot seed spilling inside you, flooding your pussy.

Your own orgasm hits so hard your vision whites out, your cunt clenching tight, squeezing him, milking him dry.

“Oh, that's it, baby, there it is. Good little slut.” you collapse, trembling, fucked-out and absolutely ruined.

Stan stays inside you, catching his breath, watching as his cum spills out, dripping down your thighs. He leans down, kisses your neck. “gonna clean you up, sweetheart.”

You blink up at him through tired eyes, dizzy. “with what?”

He smirks. “my fuckin’ tongue.” uh oh, you guess Mystery Shack is gonna open late today because even though Stanley Pines has a job to do, first he’s gotta make sure his messy girl is properly taken care of.

[e-mm4]

Hii! I love your Thanos x reader x namgyu stories!! They’re so good and I love your writing! I was wondering if I could request more of that? Maybe a little smut if you’re comfortable writing it!

(Sorry if that doesn’t make sense, English isn’t my first language ❤️)

thanos ! x reader x namgyu !

pairing : thanos! x reader x namgyu!

cw : drug use and sexual activities!

a/n : erm i am NOT a good smut writer but i hope the small amount is enough. i love these two. also i don’t know if anyone has noticed but i cannot make them mean for the life of me. like i love a soft man. oops

you’d all live in a single apartment because it’s cheaper. you were practically all living together anyways (they crashed in your living room more than their own places) so you would decide making one rent payment split three ways made more sense than three separate payments.

the chores would probably fall on you. cooking, cleaning, laundry. it’s easier if they’re out of your way anyways.

i think namgyu would help out by buying groceries or taking over the laundry every couple of weeks.

i like to picture him with glasses, and leaving them everywhere but his face. like he’s constantly misplacing them. and he swears you must be psychic or something because anytime he starts squinting to see, you pull his glasses out of thin air.

he also definitely is incapable of admitting he needs them. and will actively refuse to find them because he “looks stupid with them on”.

thanos is the type of guy that wouldn’t do anything around the house except leave his cigarettes ashes on the living room table.

or throw his shoes on top of the already large pile of sneakers by the door instead of tidying them up.

or add his dirty dishes into an already full sink.

and then he’d say he contributes to house work because he bought take out once last week or because he brought home shit for you guys to smoke.

but he’s also the type that can clean the whole house in a couple of hours, under the condition that’s he’s high. like i imagine him popping one of those pills from his cross and getting the energy to do everything you’d plan to do when you get home.

and if you said anything about it he’d just shrug. like it’s not the most impressive thing he’s done since he moved in.

secretly he’d be on top of the world because of your praise and gratitude. and he can’t help but smile at the satisfied smile that appears on your tired face when you sit beside him on the couch with no responsibility for the night.

they both are the type to conspire around the thermostat. and they’ve somehow convinced you that you don’t know how to use it so you trust them when they say it’s set at a normal temperature.

like in the winter time, they’ll turn it down so low that they have to bundle up under multiple blankets on the couch just so you’ll keep them close.

picture this, you’ve gone to bed and they turn it down at least half an hour after. and you return to the living room, half dressed cause “that’s the only way you can sleep”, and you beg them to come sit in your bed to keep you warm.

and thanos would be the type of guy to get you there and claim that they have a faster way than just ‘sitting in bed’ to keep you warm.

that’s how you’d end up with thanos chest pressed to your back and his cold hands up your shirt, cupping your breast as he nips and kisses at your neck leaving purple marks in his path that are sure to show the next day.

meanwhile namgyu is laying on his stomach with your legs perched up on his shoulders, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh, as he head gets busy between your legs.

and you better believe your inner thighs are covered in bruises. he’s incapable of holding back his bites and kisses with your legs spread wide in front of him.

i cannot see namgyu being anything BUT handsy. like even if you guys were just cuddling this guys hands are on you, in you, all over you it’s crazy.

and you’d say it’s counterintuitive when thanos throws your shirt across the room, and namgyu has pocketed the underwear you were wearing, because how is removing your clothes keeping you warm.

but after at least of an hour of being trapped between them, all three of you are sweating and the room seems way hotter than before.

maybe the fact that they turned the thermostat back to normal before joining you in your bedroom had something to do with it. who knows?

the type of guys to talk to eachother about you like your not there but also the type to say it’s gay to make eye contact with eachother when they get you off.

they’re also jealous creatures. they can’t help it.

if the three of you are having sex and you leave a mark on one of them, like a hickey or god forbid you leave lines from your nails, the other is suddenly whining for your attention. silently begging for you to mark them up in the same way.

and they won’t leave your bed after. they stay put, hands wrapping around you from either side of the bed. namgyu’s fingers are intertwined with yours as his face presses against your neck. and thanos is sprawled out on his stomach, one arm draped over your middle as he faces you, dead asleep.

[zykamiliah]

guys. guys the loser shut-in is airplane. he calls himself one in the text

The more he wrote, the more of a shut-in he became, and the more of a shut-in he became, the more he wrote. As a classic worthless otaku, the people with whom he had the best relationships and got along with most were all on the internet, oceans and seas apart. ch.26 airplane extra

sqq wanted to go out and explore shuang hu city all the way back in chapter 2, and the system didn't let him because it would be ooc.

At the same time, how could he not want to go out and play? Up until now, he’d been hunkered down inside Qing Jing Peak’s Bamboo House, forced to fake being an awesome master of arts and literature, meaning everything he did had to be done “blandly” (...) What a damn pain! And now when he finally got a break to take a trip down the mountain, he was still trapped in his room because of the System’s stance that “the original Shen Qingqiu liked quiet and would be unwilling to mingle.” Shen Qingqiu didn’t even want to pretend to meditate, so he lay on the bed, just pretending to be dead. Shortly before sunset, Ming Fan entered the room to deliver a report. Finally, someone had come to talk to him—to keep him company. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but want to weep for joy. ch.2 mission

this man doesn't like being alone, or shut-in for even short periods of time. if he goes to somewhere knew, he likes to explore!

sqq was also traveling the jianghu even when he was depressed post abyss. yeah yeah he spent a concerning amount of time kneeling at the sword mound, but he didn't spent a lot of time at the sect per se, because everything reminded him of binghe, so he was just-- going out, seeing the world.

Shen Qingqiu lifted the teacup by his hand and scraped at the tea leaves on the surface. “Zhao Hua Monastery is nearest to Jin Lan City, and my impression was that they share a very close relationship. If something did happen, the masters at the temple would have realized something was wrong.” ch.6 jin lan

he was away from the sect all the time, to the point yqy had sent lqg to keep an eye on him, and sqq and lqg have this exchange at the start of the succubi extra, indicative that sqq likely just stopped by the sect when he had to receive treatment for without a cure

“Are you heading back or not?” Liu Qingge interrupted. “After I take care of this support ticket—ah, I mean, after I take care of those succubi, I’ll head back.” “You said that last time too.” “Mm.” “And then you vanished for a month!” “Shixiong won’t die out here. Every time Without a Cure acts up, don’t I always return to Cang Qiong Mountain to look for you? Shidi doesn’t need to go out of his way to chase after me…” ch.23 succubi extra

the only reason he has to stay at home is binghe and when they can't spend that time being all married and papapaing sqq gets restlesss, he NEEDS to occupy his time with something else, like being a teacher

As they say, the greatest form of solitude is solitude within a city. Thus they settled in an especially prosperous town. While Luo Binghe was repairing his martial aspect, they would take up residence there to pass the time. Shen Qingqiu soon got so bored that his bones began to itch, so he casually took up work at the largest academy in the city. ch.28 return to childhood

tl,dr: just like airplane was a shut-in and a bit of a misandrist, lbh and sj were like that too. but sqq is not like that. he likes going out, doing stuff and spending time with other people. from this we can infer he was like that in his previous life too

"Shen Yuan was a loser gooner shut in during his first life" Shen Qingqiu used to be hated by his fellow peak lords until Shen Yuan transmigrated into his body, so it was solely his personality that was so charming people went to war over his corpse. Please be serious

[sageivy11]

no better than a dog

Price/Ghost/Puppy hybrid!reader

warnings/contains: puppy hybrid reader (only ears and tail), smut, slight dub-con (considering reader is a hybrid), fingering (r!receiving), afab reader, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight dirty talk, light dom!price, voyeurism, Ghost takes a backseat while Price does all the work, age gap (reader is young 20s, Ghost late 20s, Price early 30s), daddy kink

introduction: first time posting on tumblr EVER. little nervous 😓 i haven’t written in forever but randomly got inspired to write this since it’s been in my head and i couldn’t find it anywhere. i have no idea how space things or how to correctly align things sooo idk how this will come out. 2.6k words. writing tips and tumblr tips appreciated please. sortve proof read and written on my phone so… good luck!

A door creaking open accompanied by a giggle breaks the silence of Price’s focus on the television. He stiffens his posture slightly and turns his head towards the door of the 141’s private common room. He’s greeted by the sight of you stumbling into the room, tail wagging behind you as Ghost follows after.

You pant as you clamber onto the couch on your palms and knees, breathless giggles in the air as you plop right into his lap. Horizontal, stomach across his two thighs. A ploy for protection from the older man. He’d noticed a speck of dirt on your flushed cheeks as you filed in, as well as Ghost looking exhausted even with his mask still on. You’d come from some sort of drills with the way your clothes are uniform and not casual.

Ghost doesn’t even bother trying to snatch you up from Price, instead heavily slumping into one of the chairs opposite the couch he was sitting on. Price doesn’t need a single word from Ghost to figure out he’s not in the mood for whatever you’re up to. Still, he can’t help the way his lip turns up a little at the ends. He rests a hand on your back, amused as he smoothes down the back of your shirt. “What’ve you been up to, hm?”

“Nothing, Daddy-” you start with a falsely innocent tone, only to be interrupted by Ghost. “Bein’ a damn pest, she is.”

“Not true,” You pout a little from your perch, but only Ghost can see it. It’s mostly light-hearted, as you knew you couldn’t get away with a successful lie around them. Not that you tried.

“Having trouble wrangling the beast again, are you?” Price asks, smirking as he glances up towards Ghost from behind your wagging tail.

“Wouldn’t be so hard if she just listened,” he grunts, scowl still directed towards you. Price chuckles, his hand absently petting over your lower back and bottom. His palm is large and firm against your skin. You shift to snuggle in a little, tail swishing as you fold your arms underneath your head like a pillow.

“Been naughty, ‘ave you?” He asks, bringing his free hand up to your hair and lightly scratching behind your left ear. You hum from the pleasure, wriggling slightly in his lap. “No.” you assert confidently. As if there was no possible way Price would believe Ghost over you. You were his precious little thing.

Price just barely catches the roll of Ghost’s eyes as he scoffs. “Yeah, you were just a fuckin’ peach running a muck during your drills, weren’t you?” Your eyes narrow at him and you huff.

Ghost swears he’s never seen a more smug smile on Price’s face. “Oh, what could my precious girl have done to ruin your day?” He asks, sarcasm and amusement dripping in his tone just to watch your tail wag.

“Nothing-” you pipe up in a whiny tone, which Ghost interrupts with a “Quiet. Don’t get to complain when you’ve been practically biting at my heels all day. Must’ve just slipped your pretty little head all the times you’ve run from me when I told you to stay, huh? Hiding in the bloody equipment room, trying to snatch candy from a diabetic just because you’re curious.” he growls. Price laughs at the absurdity of it all.

“I didn’t know,” You pout at the last part, a frown on your lips. It’s true. You didn’t. And who can expect a puppy to not accept the opportunity of abandoned candy? You were practically salivating at the idea, but Ghost had your wrist in a tight, cold grip under his gloved fingers before you could even take a step toward it. Damn him and his ability to always be able to read your mind.

“Seems a bit of a punishment is in order, is it?” Price asks, his gaze shifting towards Ghost with a particular excitement in his eyes. Ghost pauses before he responds, trying to read the expression in his eyes. “Askin’ for a spankin’ with her arse up in your lap like that f’you ask me,” he utters. Quiet, as if it was just an afterthought and not a clear insight into his mind at the moment.

Price sees this, and recognizes it. He could let you get away with it, only frustrating Ghost more. He could spank you right here, humiliate you in a way that might bridge a gap between the three of you. Or, he could turn that anger, that deeply hidden and buried secret of Ghost’s arousal towards you into something more. Something tangible.

He sighs, the hand in your hair gripping the strands and gently pulling until your head is craned back. Your lips pop open as if to say something about the awkward angle your neck is now at, but you pause at the expression on his face. Your eyes flutter over his face. A pinch between his eyebrows, an interested gaze in his eyes, and a faux frown on his lips. Price starts talking before you can gather your thoughts and pipe up.

“Seems like Ghost won’t be satisfied until you get a punishment. And you’ll take it like a good girl for Daddy, won’t you?”

You practically melt at his syrupy, smooth tone. He’s playing right into that deep-seated need for some type of authority figure. Someone gentle. Someone firm. Someone that told you what to do when you needed it. Daddy.

You nod absently. Lips still parted, eyelashes fluttering over your cheeks. You hadn’t gotten a single punishment while under the 141’s guidance. Scoldings, sure. Now, you weren’t a star pupil. But at your heart, you were a good girl. Puppies can’t be perfect all the time, can they? You didn’t know what their punishments entailed, but you were pretty sure you trusted John enough at this point that you weren’t afraid.

John smirks at your expression, already looking like you’ve fallen under some sort of spell. It looked more like a smile to you. “Yeah, you’ll be alright. You’ll take it nice and well for me, won’t you?” He asks, releasing your head to fall back down into your arms.

“Mhm,” you nod. His hand previously on your lower back slides down to your ass. Giving a quick squeeze to one cheek before his other joins him to tug at your waistband and pat your bottom. “Up,” he mumbles.

You raise onto your hands and knees after only a slight pause. Was he seriously going to spank you? No, surely Daddy wouldn’t hurt you.

Ghost watches in interest as Price tugs your pants down to the crook of your knees, then fully off and beside his hip on the couch after some wiggling. Especially careful as he pulls your fluffy tail from its assigned hole in the garment. You settle back down onto your stomach after he instructs you to do so. His hand, all big and warm and familiar now, reaches for the band of your underwear.

He’s slow as he just glides his calloused fingers along the band for a moment, giving you more than enough time to voice any discomfort. You don’t, curious.

Price was a bit concerned when you first showed up at your complete disregard for personal privacy. They all were. But over time, he’d come to like it. Did he recognize it was a little selfish? Yes. Would he also take advantage of it? Yes.

He tucks his thumb under the elastic and tugs them down over the swell of your bottom. A deep-chested groan is pulled from his chest as he sees the white, sticky substance stringing from your leaky hole to the gusset of the underwear. “Fuck,” He breathes, leaving the underwear to snap back to your thighs as he shifts your tail aside to slide a thumb between the sticky mess, pulling a lip to the side to see your twitching, thoroughly used entrance.

Ghost’s jaw clenches, his gaze growing more heated. He ignores the stirring between his legs, urging off his erection. Every time he blinks he’s harassed with the image of you earlier this morning. Bent over the common room kitchen counter, shorts pushed down to pool at your bare feet. Shirt pushed up to your collarbones. Gaz flush against your back, cock gliding in and out of your sopping hole. His boxers at the floor. Your head turned over your shoulder for a filthy connection between lips.

It wasn’t just the two of you, either. Soap was in front of you both, separated only by the opposite edge of the counter. He was leaning forward, lips sealed around one of your nipples. Your other breast was accompanied by Gaz’s groping hand. His other hand? On Soap’s flushed cock. Soap’s pants were pushed down to his knees, one hand guiding Gaz’s on his cock. The other is between your legs to rub you even more quickly to completion. The dirty noises and moans will never leave his mind.

Price’s voice is the only thing to disrupt his train of thought. “Who had you today, baby?” His voice is a little deeper like arousal had punched him in the chest.

“Um.. Kyle.” You mumble, cheeks a little warm against your arms. You would’ve forgotten all about it if it weren’t for the fact you’d been dripping with Gaz’s spend for the past couple of hours. Ghost, Gaz, and Soap had recently gone on an assignment, leaving you alone with Price. You were a little sad, but you’d only been with them for a few weeks, and Price was probably your favorite anyway.

After going straight to bed, exhausted, you three had an interesting reunion in the kitchen. You didn’t mind. Maybe it was the animal traits bleeding through into you, but you were wet all the time. Not sexually satisfied until multiple orgasms. Crazy stamina. Good thing you had four soldier boys to help out with that, right? Well, three. You wouldn’t count Ghost since he’d barely touched you after the first time. You shiver at the thought.

You’re brought back to the moment by Ghost’s gruff voice. “And Soap.” You guess Soap counted too. But you didn’t think so, since he didn’t fuck you. What Ghost has taught you though, is whatever he says, goes.

Price is distracted by the absolutely delicious sight of your soaked mound. Barely listening. Only roused to respond when he hears you whimper as he runs a gentle thumb down your slit, brushing against your sore hole and sensitive clit. He’s almost jealous of Gaz. No, he knows he is. “Yeah?” He responds to Ghost, looking down to you for confirmation.

“I guess… sorta.”

“Specifics, love.”

“Well, only Kyle.. f-fucked me. But Soap was there too.” you concede, the curse coming out a little naturally. Swearing was strictly forbidden back at the facility. The guys had told you multiple times that you could say whatever you wanted, but it still didn’t feel right.

“That it? Only there?” He continues to question as he slowly pushes his thumb inside of you, cursing under his breath as the white, creamy liquid slowly gushes out around his digit. You whine and dig into your lower lip with your upper canines. You were still sensitive after Gaz.

“N-No. He was- mmph, Gaz was touching him. And he was touching me.” You stumble over your words a little as he pumps his thumb in and out gently. “A-Aren’t you supposed to be punishing me, Daddy?”

He chuckles breathlessly, slowly pulling his thumb out to watch your entrance contract. He drags his thumb down to brush over your clit. Your hips jerk, thighs tensing. “We’re getting there. Eager?”

“No.” You shake your head, burying your face in your arms. “Maybe. I don’t know.” You were a little unsure as to what he was getting at, and that would be your main point of anxiety. He must sense this because he continues the gentle petting on the back of your head.

“You’re alright, love. You know Daddy will be gentle with you. Hm?” He soothes as he lightly pets over your clit with his thumb. You twitch before you nod. His fingers slip inside of you once more, index and middle. He nearly moans at how easily his fingers are sucked in.

A low moan is pulled from your chest as he slowly presses inside, hands curling into the fabric of the couch under you. It feels nice, if not a little over-sensitive from your time before with Gaz. You can’t see how this would be a punishment. Not as he gives you the first orgasm or the second. You were starting to get a little sensitive at the third, a few tears slipping down your warm cheeks. Easily placated away by a few coos from Price.

You start to understand during your fourth as he wrenches it from you. Doesn’t slow between your third and fourth. Get a little worried, even. Ghost is scarily silent from his spot, but Price seems convinced this punishment will leave a lasting impression.

You screech as he fastens his pace right as you peak, not slowing down despite your incoherent babbles. His one hand is firm on the nape of your neck, keeping your upper body still with your face pressed in your tense arms. His other hand is busy pounding three thick fingers inside of you. You can’t control yourself with the sensations being so strong and sudden.

Your legs flex and bend at the knees, kicking up uncontrollably, heels hitting your bottom. You squirm enough that his fingers slip out and he struggles to re-enter them for a moment. He grunts and grips the back of your thighs with his soaked hand to still you.

You pant at the relief and whine at the prospect of an orgasm ripped away by your own doing. You��re whimpering into your forearms, tail sliding between your legs in an almost protective gesture. You cringe as you feel your slick spread to the fluff of your tail. You vaguely hear Price call out to Ghost over the blood rushing in your ears.

“Simon,” he grunts, trying not to get too frustrated. You’re just a pup, after all. You’re still learning.

Ghost nearly jolts from his spot across the room. At some point, unknowingly, he’d slid a hand over his bulge to grip tightly. As if to placate it. His fingers flex briefly before he jolts it away as he stands and steps over to the couch. “Coming, Sir.”

“Wha-..” you mumble, confused as to why Ghost is coming as you turn your cheek to one side. There seems to be some sort of silent communication between them you can’t quite understand. Ghost sits right next to Price on the right side, the side where your legs are. He sits nearly flush with Price, gripping your thighs just above the back of your knees and pinning them to his lap. Spreading them a little, too. Giving Price better access.

Price carefully tucks your sticky tail off to one side, gentle but firm. “Nooo…” You whine as you start to understand his motive. What were you supposed to do if you couldn’t squirm? Just sit there and take it?

“Shhh..” Price shushes you as he slips his freed hand between your legs once more, gently rubbing at your sensitive clit. Tugging your hood up with his middle finger, grinding his thumb against the exposed bud as you flinch. “Doin’ this for your own good. You’ll learn.”

Ghost has an even better view now that he’s up so close. He can see the pulsing of your entrance, inner thighs and Price’s hand completely soaked with your shiny slick. Can feel the warmth of your thighs, nearly taste the salty sensation of your skin. Can hear the way you whimper and moan much more clear now as Price slips another two fingers inside of you.

Ghost can’t help but fall silent again at the gorgeous, arousing sight in front of him. He knows Price’s schedule by heart, and nearly shudders at the relaxation he’s free for at least another hour.

They both are.

[harrywavycurly]

Handle With Care: This Can’t Be Happening

Masterlist: here

CW: language, Harry is a bit of a dick

A/N: Harry is still a bit of an asshole but he is trying his best😂

Tag List: @gmikaelson @ell0ra-br3kk3r @tulips4harry @mellamolayla @mads3502 @empathyroad @idk199o @sassamanda77 @maudie-duan @macy-tpwk @coralferrio1

Summary: Avoiding you just got hell of a lot harder for Harry 📦✨

Harry is screwed. If he thought avoiding you while moving you into your new apartment was going to be hard then what he has to deal with now is damn near impossible, because as his luck would have it your new apartment is in the same complex as the one he just moved into not even two weeks ago. So his plan of never having to see you again after he places the last box on your new kitchen counter quickly goes down the drain because while the complex is big it’s not big enough for him to never have to risk bumping into on the elevator or the mail room that’s on the first floor.

Of course Niall is oblivious to Harry’s struggle as he stands in your new living room surrounded by boxes, having what Harry can only describe as the longest and most pointless conversation ever because all Harry wants to do is leave and go down two flights of stairs to his own apartment. As far as Harry is concerned they’ve done their job and he should be free to leave but he knows he can’t, Niall will have his ass on a silver platter if he so much as takes a step towards the front door.

“So you’ve got a couch and all that comin’ tomorrow?” Niall asks making you just nod as you stand in the kitchen that opens up to the living room.

“Yeah I have a couch and a coffee table I just need to uhm borrow my friend’s truck and go get it.” You answer as your eyes briefly dart to the box that has a fragile sticker that is upside down meaning the whole box is upside down. Harry instantly feels his hands get sweaty because he knows that’s the box he dropped, he can see you looking at it from where he’s leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom.

“You’re gonna load it and move it all by yourself?” Niall questions with a raised brow and you just shrug and of course just as you look over at Harry he decides to roll his eyes making you quickly look away. But he wasn’t rolling his eyes at you, he was rolling them at the way Niall is doing everything but ending this job like he’s supposed to be considering your three hours ended fifteen minutes ago.

“I was going to ask-”

“We’ll do it for you.” Harry feels his eyes nearly pop out of his skull as Niall so casually offers the two of them to move your new couch and other furniture for you. “Free of charge of course because I have a truck we can use and Harry doesn’t have shit else to do tomorrow right H?” Niall asks just to confirm as he turns to look at Harry who is doing everything in his power not to freak out on the blonde Irish dude he sometimes calls his bestfriend.

“Tomorrow? That’s my day off.” Harry states making sure his annoyance is evident in his tone, but of course Niall ignores it and just rolls his eyes.

“Exactly so you don’t have shit to do.” Harry feels his hands ball up into fists at his side as Niall turns to look back at you with a smile. “What time works best?” You open your mouth as if you’re going to say something but then close it as you look over at Harry who is glaring at the back of Niall’s head with his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed in what you can only assume is in anger.

“Thank you for the offer but it’s okay I’ll figure it out on my own.” Your voice is soft and the smile you give Niall is sweet and it makes the weird fluttery feeling start up in Harry’s chest.

“For fuck sake just tell us what time to be here.” The look of shock on your face is only there for a moment before you compose yourself and Harry honestly can’t tell who is more embarrassed in this very moment, you or him. He didn’t mean to sound so rude and annoyed because he’s not even annoyed with you, he’s annoyed at the man standing in front of you but naturally Harry can’t seem to get himself under control while you’re around so it came out harsher than he intended.

“Does eleven work for you love?” You just nod instead of saying anything and Harry knows it’s because you don’t want to say anything that might set him off and he wants to hit himself because he really doesn’t want you to be worried about upsetting him when all he’s done today is upset you. “Perfect we’ll see you then. Just text me if you need to change the time or the day okay?” Harry takes a few steps towards your front door as Niall walks over to you and gives your shoulder a friendly pat making you smile as you look up at him.

“Thanks.” Niall just returns your smile and gives you a little nod before he turns and heads for your door that Harry is standing in front of. “See you tomorrow.” With that Harry quickly opens the door and steps into the hallway, making his way towards the elevators while Niall quickly follows behind him.

“Harry I swear m’gonna proper kick your ass if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on with you.” Niall’s voice is harsh as he stands next to him while waiting for the elevator. “You’re never that big of an asshole to people you don’t even know and what’s with the faces?”

“What faces?”

“Your face it’s all-all scrunched up like you just got a whiff of something foul.” Harry lets out a sigh as he runs a hand over his face, if only Niall knew the truth. That Harry makes that face because he’s getting hit with a scent he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of, one he would happily be wrapped up tightly in for the rest of his life because it’s just so you, the smell of flowers and sunshine.

“There’s just something about her that’s throwing me off that’s all.” Harry tries to explain without sounding crazy, but Niall doesn’t buy it for a second because next thing Harry feels is a hand giving him a hard smack upside the head.

“Throwing you off? Just admit you fancy her and get on with it.” Before Harry can even deny the outrageous claim the elevator doors open and Niall walks in and pushes the parking lot button letting the doors close as Harry stands there with a look of annoyed shock on his face.

“Fuckin’ prick.” Harry mumbles to himself as he turns on his heels and heads for the door that leads to the stairs so he can meet Niall down by the truck.

“Oh shoot.” Harry freezes as your voice floats into his ears just as his hand grabs the doorknob to the entrance of the stairwell. You look like you ran to the elevators from your apartment because your cheeks are a little flushed and your hair is falling from the bun you put it up in halfway through the move. “I’ll just take-” your voice gets caught in your throat as you turn and see Harry standing at the door to the stairs.

“That’s mine.” He looks down at the hat in your hands with a quirked brow, not remembering when exactly he took it off.

“Yes I was uh bringing it down to you it-it was on my bed.”

“You could’ve just waited till tomorrow to give it to me.”

“Oh you’re coming tomorrow?”

“Well yeah? Niall can’t move a couch by himself now can he?” Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so mad at himself than he is in this moment as you just nod and hold the hat out for him to take, your eyes looking down at the floor for a second before looking back up at him.

“Right. But I just figured you wouldn’t want to spend your day off helping me so I thought he’d find someone else instead.” You flinch at the way Harry practically snatches the hat from you before he places it on his head backwards just like he had it when you first saw him outside your door.

“Yeah well he doesn’t have anyone else to ask. So I’m stuck doing it.” He snaps and in this moment Harry truly thinks he’s possessed because next thing he knows he’s opening the door to the stairs and walking through it letting it slam closed just a few inches away from where you’re standing as he starts making his way down to the parking lot.

“Everything will be fine. I just need a shower and some sleep.” He tells himself as he does his best not to think about the look on your face as the door closed or the fact he already misses the way your apartment smells.

Everything is very far from fine for Harry the next day, having forgotten to set an alarm he finds himself cracking his eyes open at ten till eleven. So naturally he is scrambling to get out of bed and dressed with no time to even make himself some coffee before he is opening his front door and sliding his phone into the back pocket of his jeans so he can meet Niall in the parking lot. Normally Harry is very observant, he rarely ever finds himself running into things or people but in this moment as he’s stepping out of the elevator he is still half asleep and the lack of caffeine is kicking him right in the ass so it’s not shocking that he crashes into someone just as they are entering the complex from the parking lot.

“What the-” Harry thinks he must be dreaming or maybe he’s stuck in a nightmare because when he looks down to check what or who he just collided with he’s met with a bouquet of flowers on the ground and your big eyes staring at him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t looking and-and I didn’t mean to run into you.” Now Harry isn’t a genius but he is smart enough to know that you aren’t the one who should be apologizing right now, he’s the one who barged out of the elevator without looking up to see if anyone was getting on.

But like the asshole you think he is, he just stands there not knowing what to say of how to process the fact he just rammed into you making you drop your flowers on the floor. He watches you bend down and try to pick up the bent stems and gather them into your hands, he sees the way your mouth droops into a sad frown when you pick up a few petals that fell off some of the flowers. Harry knows he should help you, tell you it wasn’t your fault and that he was in a rush and not paying attention but before he can even try to do that the door to the parking lot swings open and in walks none other than Niall who has an annoyed scowl on his face as soon as he sees Harry who is still just standing there.

“Harry what the hell? Been waitin’-what happened? You okay love?” You just stand up with the broken flowers in your hands and give Niall a small smile, one that Harry can tell isn’t genuine.

“I’m fine just clumsy that’s all.” Harry rolls his eyes at your cover story annoyed you didn’t just tell Niall the truth, that Harry ran into you and made you drop something because that’s all that he can seem to do when he’s around you, be an asshole who breaks your things.

“Harry are you just gonna stand there like a useless bag of dicks or you gonna move the fuck outta the way so she can get in the lift?” Niall’s harsh tone and rude words come as a shock to you but Harry is used to this kind of treatment when Niall has really reached the end of his patients with him. Harry just moves to the side allowing you to get into the elevator, you shoot him a soft smile that he has to ignore or he’ll get distracted by the way it makes his insides feel all warm and fuzzy so he just looks at Niall and takes a step towards the door that leads to the parking lot.

“I need coffee.” Niall rolls his eyes at Harry’s statement as he turns and follows Harry out into the parking lot while you press the button for your floor. The doors close but not before Harry quickly looks over his shoulder and catches your eyes and he tries, he really does try to give you a smile but Niall’s hand on his shoulder giving him a shove makes it turn into a bit of a scowl making you look away just as you disappear behind the metal doors.

“How the hell are we going to get her shit if she’s not with us?” Harry asks as he gets into the passenger seat of Niall’s small pickup truck.

“She texted me the address of the place and what all we are picking up for her. Didn’t see the point in makin her come with since it’s just a couch and a coffee table.” Niall’s answer makes sense, but it doesn’t sit well with Harry and he knows it’s because he doesn’t like the fact you and Niall have been texting like you’re good friends with each other while he can’t even seem to simply smile at you like a normal person.

“Well I need coffee before I can even think about moving a couch or a-”

“Yeah yeah you’ll get your damn coffee quit your whining.”

Harry just lets out a huff as he crosses his arms over his chest while Niall heads off in the direction of wherever it is you’re getting your living room furniture from. He takes this time to try to figure out why exactly you make him turn into the worst version of himself, he’s never acted like this around someone before and it really is starting to bother him. Harry hates the idea of you sitting at home thinking of all the ways he’s been rude to you, when in reality all he’s wanted to do is be nice and maybe find reasons to be around you all the time so he can get his fill of what’s becoming his favorite smell.

You try to busy yourself as you wait for Niall and Harry to show up with your couch and coffee table, deciding that you should take this opportunity to start unpacking your kitchen. Starting with the boxes on the counter you begin to put away your various glasses and cups, moving them around a few times until you finally find the perfect cabinet for them. When you get to the box that has the upside down fragile label you let out a sigh as you open it up just to find your plates and a few bowls broken, even though you took extra care and wrapped them in bubble wrap it wasn’t enough to help them when the box got dropped and somehow placed upside down.

“It was an accident.” You mumble to yourself so you don’t go feeling upset at Harry, even though you’re sure he wouldn’t really care if you were upset with him or not seeing as he doesn’t seem to like you very much. You pick up one of the broken plates and put it on the counter so you can see if anything managed to survive in one piece when you hear voices coming from behind your front door.

“Are you even lifting?”

“What? Yes I’m lifting you wank now just be a doll and get the door will ya?” You laugh as Niall’s loud voice makes its way through the door, you quickly walk over and unlock the front door allowing you to open it just as Harry was reaching for it.

“Shit.” Is all you hear before Harry practically falls into your apartment making Niall drop his side of the couch when he sees Harry go down and land flat on his bottom while the couch slips out of his hold.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t-”

“Oh don’t worry about him he’s fine.” Harry shoots Niall a glare as he stands up so he can bend down and grab his side of the couch. “Doin a bit of unpacking huh? That’s always the worst part of moving.” Niall says with a smile as he lifts his side of the couch while Harry begins to walk backwards through your door, you just smile and nod as you move out of their way so they can place the couch in the living room.

“Yeah I thought it would be smart to start with-”

“What’s all this?” Harry feels his cheeks get hot as Niall walks over to your counter and points at the broken plate as he takes a look inside the box that’s full of broken dish ware.

“Uh I accidentally dropped it.” Harry hates how effortlessly you keep covering for him, how you don’t even bat an eyelash or miss a beat as you take responsibility for whatever messed up thing Harry’s done. “But it’s fine it’s just a few plates.” You explain as Niall turns to look at you with a hand on his hip.

“She didn’t-”

“Would either of you like a donut?” You ask just as Harry was about to tell Niall the truth about the box, you look from Niall over to Harry who just quirks an eyebrow at you. “I uhm got them this morning while I was out getting a few things.” Niall takes a moment to look at the way you and Harry are staring at each other before he shakes his head.

“That’s real nice of you love but I’m good.” He says politely declining your offer, you look away from Harry and smile as you head back into your kitchen.

“Uh Harry? Would you-you like one?” You hate how nervous you sound as you hold the box out, you know he’s just going to say no or possibly not say anything at all and just head out your front door to go grab your coffee table. So when he just stares at you and gives you the smallest nod before he takes a few steps towards you all you can do is stare at him in shock.

“Thanks.” He mumbles making you smile and feel your cheeks go a bit pink as he reaches a hand out and grabs one from the box. You feel silly for letting one simple word make you feel all smiley and giddy but you can’t help it since it’s the nicest thing he’s said to you since meeting him yesterday morning.

“Right well we have one last thing to grab and then we will be outta your hair.” Niall’s voice snaps Harry out of his trance as he swallows thickly and turns to head towards your front door, donut in hand. You just nod and close the box and turn to place it back on the counter so you can get back to unpacking.

“Oh you’ve got it so fucking bad mate.” Niall teases once the two of them are down the hallway near the elevators.

“I do not.” Harry snaps before he takes a bite out of his donut and if he was alone he would’ve let out a sigh at how good it tastes.

“Harry I watched your eyes practically turn into hearts when she asked if you wanted a donut so don’t try to lie to me.” Niall watches with amusement as Harry just rolls his eyes as he finishes off his donut, in record time because he doesn’t think he’s ever tasted anything so good before.

“You’re so dramatic you didn’t see shit.” Is all Harry can say as the two men enter the elevator, and Harry has to remind himself that Niall doesn’t know he’s the reason your plates and flowers are ruined. Because if he did then Niall wouldn’t be convinced he has feelings for you, he would be kicking his ass for being such an asshole towards you.

“Whatever you say lover boy.” Niall wiggles his eyebrows when Harry looks over to send him a glare and it’s in this moment that Harry begins to wonder if maybe, just maybe Niall could be right. What if he does have some kind of infatuation with you and that’s why he’s acting the way that he is, but then Harry begins to think of all the things he’s said and done to you that would make you want nothing to do with him and he feels as if his heart is dropping to his stomach as he lets out a sigh.

“She’s way too nice for me.” Harry mumbles mostly to himself just as the doors open and Niall leads the way to the parking lot having no clue the internal struggle his bestfriend is having over the thought of the girl who lives two floors above him not liking him because of all the horrible things he’s done in the short time he’s known her.

[mapleandgingeroatmeal]

Alright! Rosie got the last one. Now it’s my turn. 

First off, credit where credit's due, I actually agree with you on the origin comic for the most part. Adding that first traumatic return to the backstory really undercuts the catharsis of the moment Veth finally returns to Yeza in Xhorhas and he embraces her unconditionally after all the built up tension of not knowing if he was going to, imo. This is the last place we agree unfortunately.

However, I have to tell you that nobody was actually misunderstanding you before. They got what you were saying, they just disagreed with it. It is such a gross misreading of the text to say that there is something fundamentally similar about how the two of them left their respective children behind. Sure they both did, but beyond that surface-level detail every piece of context that comes after is nearly opposite. Liliana made her own independent  choice to leave a place of safety, love, and security to fulfill her own needs without her child. Veth was kidnapped and tortured and in a moment of extreme duress made the ultimate sacrifice to allow her child to escape without her.

The “Hag thing” (and GOD I can’t believe we’re re-litigating this again) does not actually prove anything about Veth accept that she’s human and experiences temptation. She didn’t take a violent action. She thought about it briefly and experienced extreme guilt immediately afterwards. If anything, that proves how deeply UNLIKE Liliana she is. When presented with a very similar choice to knowingly sacrifice potentially hundreds of lives for the sake of solving her immediate personal problem, Veth makes the opposite choice that Liliana does. She prioritizes the safety of the world. She does so a SECOND time with Halas in the happy fun ball in fact. Don’t you think Liliana would have made both of those deals in a heartbeat?  

The argument that Veth should have done more to be immediately at her husband and son’s side feels to me to be deeply rooted in this very misogynistic idea that to be the best mother possible a woman must be entirely present with her whole self for a child no matter what. What do you think would have happened, comics aside, if Veth had come home as a goblin to a town that hated the way she looked? Would You have just hid her in the basement for the rest of her life? And Luc was with the goblins too, you know. Would you want her to try and parent him using the face of the creatures who tortured and starved him? It would have done nothing but retraumatize both of them. There was never really any choice there. She made every effort she could to parent from a distance, anyway; remember the first act she makes once she has some real money in Zedash is to send it home to Luc. She also works her hardest, as you even said, to do everything in her power to get herself back as soon as possible. Would you rather her sitting meekly at home hiding in the basement, living a life of fear and secrecy, in a body she hates, hoping that some day her husband or someone else will wander by and save her?

I don’t even know what to say about the parenting stuff. Is she a dreadful parent because sometimes she goes and does other things? Because she’s not quiet and gentle and sweet with Luc? Because she’s occasionally honest about how difficult and exhausting parenting a traumatized teenager can be, especially if you have an indulgent streak out of guilt after missing years of his childhood to tragedy and circumstance? Because if you think those things make you a dreadful parent than I’m telling you now that more than half the moms in this world are going to deeply disappoint you. 

If the Good Moms of Critical Role ever learn about the shit Liliana's pulled it's on sight 😤

[winchesterwild78]

Daddy’s Girl pt 1

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (wife), Dean and Reader’s daughter, other characters from Supernatural

Warnings: None yet, just some fluff. Talks of monsters and nightmares

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This one is about Dean and his wife and how Dean is a total girl dad. The reader and Dean are married and their daughter is 4.

This is a work of fiction and does not follow the Supernatural storyline. I do not own the rights to the characters used.

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated. 

Minors DNI 18+

“Delilah Rose, get in here and pick up this mess.” I stood in the Dean cave and saw her dolls all over the floor. My four year old came bounding in and looked up at me with her father’s green eyes and gave me the best puppy dog eyes she could muster. “I see Uncle Sammy is teaching you puppy dog eyes.”

I heard a deep chuckle behind me and felt my husband’s arms wrap around my waist. “Or was it you, Dean Winchester? Teaching our toddler how to get out of trouble?” 

He laughed, “Nope, because my little pumpkin pie could never be in trouble.” I rolled my eyes, “Well your little pumpkin pie has been told five times to clean up her mess and she still hasn’t done it.” 

Dean spun me around to face him, “We were still playing.” He chuckled and kissed my lips. “Sure you were. Any excuse to keep her out of trouble. You two are insufferable.” “Yeah, but you love us.” I playfully rolled my eyes, “I guess I do. You're lucky you’re cute, Winchester.” 

He pulled me close and kissed my lips. Delilah was watching from the floor and giggled. “Daddy, can we play now?” He pulled away and smirked, “Duty calls.”

Dean let go of me and got on the floor with Delilah. I loved watching them together. From the moment he found out I was pregnant he was over the moon. When we found out we were having a girl his whole demeanor shifted. 

I thought he was protective of me or Sammy, but nothing prepared me for the level of protection for Delilah. I still remember late night conversations with him about her future.

“She will never hunt and I’m cutting back on it. I refuse to have her grow up the way Sammy and I did. She will learn to protect herself, but I won’t let her live her life in fear. Oh, and no boys until she’s thirty, and they will be put through all the tests; holy water, silver, borax, background checks.” 

I just laughed. She wasn’t born yet and he was already so protective of her. 

When she was born it was a chilly day in late November. She was born a few days before Thanksgiving and Dean nicknamed her “pumpkin pie” because of it. He even bought her a onesie that had a slice of pumpkin pie on it and it said, “Sweet as (picture of the pie)”. 

The nurses took turns holding her. Delilah had everyone, especially Dean wrapped around her finger from the moment she was born. 

When we came home from the hospital my recovery was hard. There were some complications with me during birth, so the doctor told us to expect some difficulties after. 

The first few nights home I cried every time Delilah cried. Dean was by my side, taking care of her and me. As I healed, Dean insisted on doing the late night feedings and changes. “It will help us bond better. Please, baby let me do this. You can rest.” He kissed my lips and shooed me to bed.

I would sneak out and watch him from the doorway of the nursery. Dean would feed her, change her and sing her to sleep while he rocked her. 

I loved watching him with her. Dean Winchester was born to be a father, especially to a little girl. 

Now here we were four years later and Delilah, or “pumpkin pie” as Dean called her, was growing into a spunky child. 

“Daddy, play dress up with me. Please.” Her big green eyes fluttered and her lip poked out. I chuckled and rolled my eyes. “You two have fun, I’m going to make some lunch for us. Any requests?” 

Dean and Delilah looked at each other and then at me with big grins, “Grilled cheese and tomato soup.” “Of course, why did I even ask?” I chuckled as I left the room. 

The halls of the bunker filled with laughter coming from Delilah’s room. “Daddy, now I have to paint your nails.” “Pumpkin I don’t want my nails painted. Maybe you can paint mommy’s or Uncle Sammy’s.” “Noooo daddy, I want to paint yours so we can match.” 

I laughed because I knew when I saw them he would have painted nails. I poured the soup in bowls and cut their grilled cheeses. Four little triangles with apple slices in the middle of the plate. Just the way they both like it. 

“Lunch is ready for you two. Wash up and come on.” I called from the kitchen. 

I heard giggles coming down the hallway and a few minutes later Dean and Delilah came into the kitchen. When I turned around I laughed loudly. Dean’s hair was full of bows and barrettes and his nails were painted.

He cut his eyes at me as I stifled the giggle. “Mommy isn’t daddy pretty?” “Yes he is baby girl, you did a great job.” “See daddy, I told you that you were pretty.”

I walked over to Dean and kissed his lips softly, “Daddy is very pretty.” He smirked, “She better be glad she’s cute.” I placed my hands on his chest, “She has you wrapped so tight around her finger she could shave your head and you’d love it.” He smirked because he knew I was right.

Dean Winchester, badass hunter, stopped the apocalypse, got rid of demons, vampires, and God himself, but would crumble and bend to the will of his four year old daughter. 

The three of us sat at the table to eat lunch. Dean and Delilah sat across from each other and I sat beside Delilah. I stood up to grab napkins and when I turned around I saw Dean making silly faces and Delilah giggling. She started making them back and he laughed. “Dean Winchester! Teaching her how to make faces like that. You’re going to get her in trouble when she starts school.” 

Delilah and Dean both laughed, but I noticed his jaw clench a little when I mentioned school. I knew he wasn’t looking forward to her going to school. He was scared and nervous about her being away from him. He has been by her side since the day she was born, never being apart from her. 

After lunch it was time for Delilah to take a nap. Dean cleaned her up and carried her to bed. 

“But daddy, I don’t want to take a nap. I want to stay with you and mommy.” “Sweetheart, you need to take a nap. Mommy and daddy will be here when you wake up. Want me to sing to you?” 

Delilah climbed in Dean’s lap and nodded. Dean began singing a Metallica song to her, but in a softer tone. I loved hearing him sing songs to her and changing their tune to fit the situation. Before too long she was fast asleep. Soft snores coming from her slightly parted lips. 

Dean laid her down, kissed her forehead, and left her room, closing her door slightly. I was in the kitchen cleaning up from lunch when he came back in. 

He snaked his arms around my waist and kissed my neck, “She’s fast asleep. Nothing a little Metallica couldn’t fix.” I chuckled. After drying my hands I turned to face him. He pulled me close to him and kissed my lips softly. “Dean, honey, why did you get upset when I mentioned school? You know she has to start school next year.” 

Dean let out a deep sigh, “I know. I just don’t like the idea of her being away from us. We both know what’s out there and I have to protect her. That’s my number one job and I refuse to let her down.”

I looked at Dean and smiled, I placed my hands on his chest, “Dean, you will never let that little girl down. You are her world and I know you would literally go to hell for the people you love so I can’t imagine what you would do for her. If you think we can do it, let’s look into homeschooling her. We can tag team it between work.” 

Dean’s eyes went wide and he smiled, “Really? You would consider that?” I nodded yes, “Dean I would do whatever I could to keep you both safe and happy. If that means we homeschool our little girl, then we homeschool our little girl. Uncle Sammy is smart enough he can help us too. Besides, I don’t want to get a phone call from the school telling me you’re standing outside armed to the teeth on ‘protection duty’.” 

Dean laughed, “You really think I’d stand outside the school every day with weapons?” I laughed, “Dean, baby, I don’t think it, I know it.” 

We walked into the Dean cave and sat on the couch. Dean grabbed a blanket and draped it over the two of us. He pulled me closer to him and I snuggled to his side. 

“It’s been awhile since we’ve just relaxed here. This is nice. Being in your arms, snuggled together, just the two of us.” Dean looked down at me and lifted my chin up and placed a soft kiss on my lips. 

“Yeah, I miss my other girl. It’s been too long since we’ve just relaxed together.” “Yeah, you usually have a tiny human crawling in your lap. I love being in your arms, Dean, and as much as I love you, these bows and barrettes have to go.” I laughed as I started to take his hair down. 

He pulled me on his lap and I giggled. I kissed his lips, “You’re an amazing daddy, you know that? Not many men would let their daughter put bows in their hair or paint their nails. We are so lucky to have you.” 

I kissed him again. This time his hands pulled me closer and held tightly on my hips. I moaned into his mouth. 

I felt him smirk, “What do you say about us taking a nap too?” He winked as he asked me. 

“I think we won’t be doing a lot of sleeping, Mr Winchester.” “Is that a no, Mrs Winchester?” 

“Oh absolutely not, let’s go.” I stood up and took his hands pulling him off the couch. 

We walked into our room and Dean closed the door softly, locking it. I smirked. His lips were on mine again as he pulled me flush to his chest. His hands tangled in my hair, deepening the kiss. 

“I’ve missed you, Dean, missed this.” “Me too sweetheart, it’s been too long.” 

I smirked, “Dean, it’s only been two days.” He chuckled, “I know, but I miss my wife.” His hand slipped down and under the hem of my shirt. His calloused fingertips brushing my skin lightly and leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

Dean walked us back to the bed and laid me down. He hovered over me, kissing me from my lips, down my neck and to my collarbone. Pulling a moan from my lips. 

Dean pulled his shirt off over his head, and I leaned up letting him take off mine too. As he unhooked my bra I thought I heard something so I froze.

“What is it baby?” “I think I heard Delilah.” We stopped and listened carefully. 

Sure enough we heard her whimpers and cries from her room. Dean grabbed his shirt and headed towards her room. I put my clothes back on and followed. 

When I got to her door, Dean had her in his arms drying her tears. 

“Daddy the monster got me and took me away from you and mommy.” Her green eyes were full of tears that spilled over onto her little pink cheeks.

Dean held her to his chest and rubbed her back, “Shhh, baby. I promise you nothing will ever hurt you or take you away from Mommy and me. I will always keep you safe. Mommy and Uncle Sammy will always keep you safe too. Remember Uncle Cas and Uncle Jack are always watching over you. They have since before you were born.” 

I smiled thinking about the day Cas and Jack came to visit us and told me I was pregnant. 

*Flashback*

“Dean, I’m not feeling well. I think you and Sammy should go without me this time. You said it yourself, it’s a simple salt and burn.” Dean stepped closer to me and kissed my lips, “If you’re sure. I’ll be back before you know it.” I nodded. 

“Dean, Y/N. How are you?” We both jumped, “Jesus Cas. You scared the heck out of me.” Dean laughed, “Yeah Cas, what if we were having sex?” I playfully slapped his arm, “Dean!” 

Cas looked at Dean and then at me, “I knew you weren't. I always listen in before we come in.” I looked at Dean and he looked at me, “That’s kind of creepy, Cas.” He shrugged. Jack appeared next, “Hello.” He smiled.

“Hey Jack, how are you?” “I am well, Y/N. How are you?” 

“Oh, I’m okay. Just feeling a little sick. Probably caught a little cold.” 

Jack stepped closer to me, “No, you have a baby in your stomach.” My eyes went wide and I looked at Dean. Dean’s jaw hit the floor. “Wait, what?” 

Jack stepped even closer, “Yes, a baby. It’s going to be a girl. She’s going to look like Y/N, but have Dean’s green eyes.” 

I gasped and touched my belly. Cas looked at Dean and I. Dean looked over at Cas, “Is he telling the truth? Is Y/N pregnant?” Cas shook his head yes.

Dean pulled me into his arms and kissed my lips, “We’re having a baby?” Tears filled our eyes and I nodded, “I guess so.” He kissed me again, “I love you so much, Y/N.” “I love you too, Dean.” 

*End of Flashback*

Dean held Delilah in his arms until she fell back to sleep. Her tiny hands gripped his shirt and wouldn’t let go. I smiled as he laid her down and he laid beside her. 

I walked over and kissed him and then her. “I told you, best daddy ever.” He smiled, “I try.” He grabbed my hand as I started to leave the room. I turned and looked at him, “What’s wrong Dean?” 

“Nothing, I just want you to know I fully intend on finishing what I started.” I bent down, kissed his lips and said, “I’m counting on it.” 

He chuckled softly, “Good.” I turned on my heels and walked out the door. 

I busied myself with cleaning, organizing and reading while Dean and Delilah took a nap.

I had walked to her door a few times to check on them and the last time I saw Dean laying on his back, one arm under his head and the other holding Delilah close to him. She was laying in his arms with her arm and a leg flung over him. Both of their mouths were slightly parted and soft snores filled the room. Delilah was definitely a carbon copy of Dean, and I loved every second of it. 

About an hour later I was sitting in the library reading when I heard Dean and Delilah talking. Dean walked out of her room covered in sweat. It puzzled me because it wasn’t that hot in her room.

“Dean, is everything okay?” He nodded and went into the kitchen. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I had a gut feeling something was wrong.

I got up and walked in the kitchen. I saw Dean standing at the sink, his back to me, and his t-shirt was soaked. 

I walked over to him and touched his arm and he jumped. “Whoa, I’m sorry. It’s just me. Dean, are you sure you’re okay? You’re soaked and jumpy.”

He moved slightly away from me. My brows furrowed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Guess I got hot in pumpkin’s room.” 

I wasn’t convinced. Dean grabbed his water and left the room, heading towards our bedroom. 

I hesitated, not sure if I should follow him or not. I ultimately decided to follow him. I’ve known him for years and I know he keeps things to himself. It’s really one of the only things we argue about. 

I walked into our bedroom and found him sitting at the desk, writing. Standing at the door I watched him for a few minutes. Dean was focused on writing and I noticed he had tears falling down his face. A few falling and landing on the paper. 

I gasped softly and walked over to him putting my arms around his neck. “Dean, baby. Please talk to me. You can’t keep whatever this is inside. I’m your wife, your partner. The one person you’re supposed to share your burdens, your fears, your love with. Please let me help you. Please.” Tears filled my eyes as I pleaded with him. I hated seeing him like this. 

All those years of being mom and dad to Sam, being so brave and stoic for his father taught him how to push his emotions down and not show his vulnerable side. Since we got married and even more so after Delilah was born, Dean is learning how to embrace and show his emotions. 

He sometimes needs to be reminded that I’m there to help him. 

I felt his hands on my arms and his body shaking as he cried. One hand slipping down and picking up the picture he took of Delilah and I at the park. 

My heart was breaking as his whole body shook. “Dean, honey, please talk to me. Whatever it is we will figure it out. I promise.” 

Dean sat the picture down and stood up. He turned and faced me and pulled me in his arms. 

“I just don’t want to lose you or Delilah. I couldn’t survive that. You two are my world and I can’t lose you too.” I placed my hands on his chest, “Hey, look at me. You’re not going to lose either of us. You’re stuck with us Dean. Forever. Remember what we said when we got married? It’s you and me until the last star falls. I meant it, Dean. Now where is this coming from?”

He took in a deep shaky breath and let it out, “Just a bad dream. You and pumpkin were gone and I couldn’t find you or get to you. The two of you just vanished.” 

I wrapped my arms around him tightly, “Well I’m right here, and she’s in there playing. We aren’t going anywhere. Remember what you told her, we’ve got Cas and Jack looking out for us. Not to mention a dad who would go to hell and back for us. We are two very lucky girls.” 

He nodded, kissed my lips and let out a little bit more of the breath he was holding. 

“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry.” “Hey, no. Don’t be sorry. You’re entitled to your feelings and fears. That’s what makes you human. I love you, Dean.” “I love you too, Y/N.”

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[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

CHAPTER SIX

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: you confront your classmate, determined to make her ex leave you alone.

wc. 1.7k

warnings: none

(nowhere girl masterlist)

When you got kicked out of your house you only had time to bring a few sets of clothes, your toothbrush, and your school supplies. While you were getting ready this morning, you had to watch a video tutorial online on how to tie your hair up with a pencil not minding the tall short haired girl who was eating breakfast just a few feet away in their tight knit apartment.

It was easy not to talk to Sae-byeok. She was like smoke, easy to spot but can’t grasp as it’s already dissolving away. She left ten minutes earlier than you did without a single uttering to you. You try not to think about it too much because you will be gone soon.

“Noona.” you hear a voice behind you peep while you were done tying your hair back. Cheol pops up from his room, handing you his tie timidly. “I accidentally loosened my tie. Could you tie it for me again?”

You walk over to Cheol and kneel on the hardwood floor to help adjust his uniform tie.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asks, pointing at your cheek.

“No, never. I just tripped.” you lie. You feel the weight of his stare on your bruised up cheek. “Do you always go to school by yourself?” you say to advert the topic.

“Yes. Sometimes my sister takes me if she doesn’t go to work early but she usually does.” he explains, rubbing his tired little eyes with his fist. “Ji-yeong noona isn’t a morning person so I’m scared to ask her.”

“Done. You look nice.” you ruffle the top of his head and stand up. “I would be scared to wake up Ji-yeong too by the way.”

A fatigue little giggle escapes Cheol’s mouth.

“Have a good day at school, Cheol.” you say and walk over to the door to slip on your sneakers only to look over at Cheol who pokes his head out his room once more.

“Are you staying with us forever, Noona?” he asks. The confused expression you gave him startled him. “I want you to!”

“No, I know what you meant to say it’s just—“ you scratch the top of your head. You don’t think it’ll be appropriate to say that tomorrow morning you’ll be long gone to a sensitive boy like Cheol. “I don’t know actually. Maybe one day I’ll have to leave but we’ll still be friends, okay?”

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely. Maybe in the summer you can come visit me at the art gallery I work at.”

“That’ll be cool.” he says quietly. “Bye, Noona.”

You wave him goodbye and exit the apartment.

The bus ride to your campus is serene on this cloudy spring morning and you wonder when this moment of calm will end. Maybe it’ll end when you get to your first class of the day where you will confront Yoon about her ex-boyfriend’s attempted assault on you yesterday.

✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

One thing Sae-byeok had to get used to was having a routine. Before working at the bakery, her days of pickpocketing were irregular and her income would be inconsistent. It was strange at first and she wasn’t the best on arriving to work on time at first, but by some miracle Miss Ahn never complained about her tardiness. Sae-byeok is almost certain Ji-yeong told her about her past so Miss Ahn could take it easy on her.

Her first month working at the bakery she didn’t think she would last. She was told to memorize kneading techniques, how to spot expired flour, and go grocery shopping in the middle of a rush because they ran out of eggs. It was all too foreign. But now she can barely remember her life without this job. However, today her mind is back to the days she used to be Jang Deok-su’s little apprentice. Everyday was violence, theft, drugs, and more violence. Sae-byeok can’t believe she survived it all.

For her midday break, Sae-byeok stepped outside to the back alley of the bakery and leaned her back against the wall to ponder some more.

“Hey, Kang!” Ahn Yong-sun, Miss Ahn’s eldest grandson, calls out to her from the back door. She slowly turns her head to look at him. “Where the fuck did you put Kim Yeoreum’s cake order? I can’t fucking find it anywhere!”

“On the top shelf! Asshole.” she mutters the last word underneath her breath.

“Just because you’re two inches taller than me doesn’t mean we can all fucking reach the top shelf!”

“Yong-sun, watch your mouth child!” Miss Ahn hisses as she arrived back from her grocery errands. She fans her grandson with her hands in a shooing motion. He mumbles an apology and cowers back inside but not before throwing Sae-byeok a glare. “Don’t let that brat get into your head, dear. He’s become so spoiled—of course he has, he was raised by my own spoiled son!”

Sae-byeok reaches over to grab her bag of groceries.

“Ah, look at you always being so attentive with me.” Miss Ahn coos. “I’m telling you if I fell down the stairs my grandson wouldn’t even bat an eye.”

They enter the kitchen and the aroma of fresh bread hits their nostrils. As Sae-byeok reaches over to shut the door for some odd reason the smell makes her think of you and the croissant you offered her last night. While she unloads the bag of groceries she keeps thinking of you and the last thing you told her last night.

Sae-byeok turns to peer down at the elder lady beside her jotting down another list of groceries. “Miss.” she says out of the blue.

“Yes, dear?”

“Is the apartment above the bakery still vacant?”

Miss Ahn’s looks up past her reading glasses and raises a brow. “Why? Did you and Cheol get booted off?”

“No, it’s for a friend.”

“Ah.” she hums and continues to write her list again. “I’m in the process of having a couple of people visit the space. However, it’ll make my life easier if you got your friend to come first—just make sure she doesn’t ask too many questions. You young kids love doing that.”

“Okay. Can she come tomorrow?”

Sae-byeok could sense that the older lady is skeptical. But she remains stone faced and calm hoping that she won’t raise further questions. It’s bad enough she’s doing this for your sake.

“I don’t see why not. Tomorrow afternoon.” she pats her on the shoulder. “Now, can you help me finish icing this cake for me? The customer will arrive later today.”

Sae-byeok walks around the other side of the island counter and sneakily pulls out her phone to send Ji-yeong a message.

✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

You drop your belongings at your usual spot, next to the large window panes in the studio and march over to Yoon who was currently chatting with a friend. Without noticing, your jaw clenches seeing how content Yoon looks giggling with her friend while your mind is in torment over the chaos that ensued yesterday.

When she sees your rigid figure march up to her she hushedly says something to her friend that made her go silent. She avoids your eye contact the closer you approach them.

“Can I talk to you in private?” you ask her, irritated.

Yoon stiffly nods while still avoiding your intense eye contact and follows you out the classroom. When you reach the end of the hall you cross your arms and narrow your eyes at her.

“So—“

“I’m really sorry.” Yoon interrupts quickly with guilt written all over her face. “I didn’t think Yen-ho would…”

“Try to beat me up?” you scoff.

“I was just confused about this whole situation an—“

“Situation? This isn’t a situation, Yoon this is my life! I get it if you don’t want to be around me anymore. It fucking sucks that I know what you will decide but to go around and tell people…” you choke back tears. “it’s just making my life harder than it already is.”

“Fuck. I’m so deeply sorry.”

Breathless with anger you take a couple of seconds to compose yourself before continuing. “Whatever, Yoon. Could you just tell me if he’ll be here today so I know when to leave?”

“He doesn’t go to school here he just likes to wander.” she mutters. “But I’ll text him—tell him to back off.”

Before you could speak your professor appears. “Ladies, class is starting now could you head to your seats please. And can I speak to you after class about your project?” he points at you.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” you mumble, lowering you head and scurry with Yoon to the class.

“Don’t apologize.” he chuckles.

It was hard to pay attention in class when all you could do is shoot daggers at Yoon across the room. You could see the anxiousness in her behavior, how she would pick up and put down her phone, and only reply to her friends in short sentences.

At one point you heard the professor cough in your direction leaving you no choice but to try and concertante on the piece you are working on. But by the time class was finished, you barely finished what you started with.

You wait until everyone leaves before dragging your feet up to the professors desk.

He greets you by your name and folds his hands, thinking deeply. “So, you’re the only one that hasn’t shown me their piece. Could you show me and explain to me what your piece is about?”

“It’s a textile piece that will, um, resemble a fashion designers sketchbook. I’m using textile, watercolor, fashion magazines, and my own sketch designs for this piece…” you quietly explain as you show him the piece, frowning at the disapproval on his face.

“That sounds…marvelous.” he says to your surprise. “I like the use of watercolor to depict paper fading yellow.”

“Thank you, professor.” you bow.

“Is there a story behind this?”

“I’m still trying to get around it.”

“Okay.” he hums. “Recently, I’ve noticed your lack of concentration in my class however. I stated from the start that students that consistently keep lacking won’t succeed in my class. This is the first big project and you will have two bigger ones these next upcoming weeks. I don’t want you to fall behind already—especially since I can already conclude that you’ll be one of the runner ups in the Hangaram prize.”

Your heart begins to swell. This is the first good news in a while you aren’t sure how to react. So you just stare at your professor with wide eyes and a gaped mouth.

“So please, focus on this project and I am excited to see the end results next class.”

“Of course, thank you professor!”

You walk out of class in high spirits only to be crushed with the realization in knowing that a potential group of loiterers are waiting for you outside these walls.

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6 @kissedberries @bitchybananaflower @laurenkenss

[insomniadreamzz]

I love the color blue

Jinx x Fem!Reader modern AU

Reader being a tattoo artist, no smut just mentions of nudity

The sound of the tattoo pistol buzzing was the only thing that filled up your tattoo studio, you being focused on your work. You wanted to make it perfect, especially because the woman you tattooed wasn’t just a normal customer.

You and Jinx have known each other for a while, you could say you became friends but she didn’t know you had a crush on her. Jinx always talked about the blue clouds she wants to get tattooed and today you finally gave in and made her wish get true.

She looked at you working on her arm and every now and then she looked at your face, seeing you being highly focused. One of the things she loved about you being focused was definitely the way your tongue got a little bit out, thinking you look so cute like that.

„Are you okay? Or do you need a pause?“ You asked her, Jinx shaking her head in response. „No don’t worry I am fine you can continue.“ She responded, making you keep doing your work. You knew she wasn’t the one to feel a lot of pain. Jinx past made her numb, she had to go through a lot of shit but every time she was with you, she showed at least a bit of true emotions even though she hid them very well behind her quirky behavior which seemed manic to others. It wasn’t a secret for you, you knew about her mental problems but you never thought they are a real problem for your relationship.

You couldn’t help but blush when you reached for her exposed chest. She wanted the tattoos to go along her boob and then down her ribs until they reached her tummy on the side. Of course you didn’t say no to her wish even though you needed to collect yourself once you saw her upper body naked. You could ignore it while you worked on her arm but now you are directly facing her chest, even tattooing on it. Your blush wasn’t unnoticed by her, making Jinx smirk as she looked at you still focused but this time with a blush on your cheeks. „Enjoy what you see?“ Jinx teased you but you didn’t pay much attention to it. „Yea I think these clouds came out pretty well.“ You mentioned, of course knowing what she meant but you had no time for flirting now, not wanting to mess up.

Once you finished, you took a last look at your work on Jinx, smiling as you felt satisfied with the result. „Good, I am done, go look at it yourself and tell me how you like it.“ You told her and Jinx hopped off the chair and walk towards the huge mirror in your studio, smiling as she admired your work on her. „You did a very good job toots! Thanks for that. Now I have you on me forever.“ She said as she turned to look at you, a little spark in her eyes. „M-Me? How’s that? It’s my job and I gave you the tattoos you always wanted.“ You simply reply, looking at her, noticing the tension building up between the both of you in that tiny room of your studio.

„Yes that’s the point dummy. YOU made it.“ She chuckled before walking closer to you, wanting to hug you. The feeling of her exposed chest in you making you blush. You hesitated for a moment before wrapping your arms around her waist, looking back into her beautiful eyes. „So? How many more hints do you need to understand my feelings?“

Your eyes widen a little bit at her statement. It was true, you did avoid all of her hints and attempts to get closer to you just because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship or just misinterpret something but the way she kept staring into your eyes made you realise it more. „So? You’re not just being your usual playful self?“ You said with a smirk, wanting to hear it from her but instead of using her words, Jinx decided to close the gap between you both, pulling you into a kiss.

You felt butterflies in your stomach when you kissed, tilting your head a little bit to deepen the kiss as you got lost for a moment, only wanting to enjoy the moment. When you pulled back, you both blushed, staring at each other for a a few seconds, the silence being interrupted by Jinx’s giggle. „Heh…I love you toots.“ You smile brightly at her words, not being able to hold back and ignore what just happened between you two, pecking her lips once again. „I love you too.“ You admitted, feeling the weight of your shoulders fall and you felt much lighter. „We still need to finish you up tho, the tattoos need to be protected.“ You mentioned, knowing you were still not done with your work.

„Yea sure but after you wrap them up…do you still have any customers coming today?“ Jinx asked with that special look on her face, knowing what she wanted. „You’re the only one today love. You want me to lock the doors?“ You asked mostly in a joking way but Jinx’s smile became darker, showing a little hint of lust.

„Yes…it’s time for me to take care of you after you did such a good job my love.“ She answered and you were eager to finish this up so you can focus on each other more and finally getting closer to each other like you always dreamed of.

[deeplyshalllow]

I will agree with you that Fiyero is woefully underused in the musical, so we do have to use what we have to decipher what information we do have about him. Either way is headcanon.

However, this is what we get from act 1:

1) He is good at lying to people about who he is, all while being able to make himself likable

2) He is secretly unhappy and has been thinking about the day with the Lion Cub a lot

3) He takes the initiative to save Animals and help Elphaba, but in a way that doesn't immediately get them caught

With this in mind, along with his bitching in Thank Goodness and the fact that he immediately turns on the Wizard and runs off with Elphaba the moment he has a chance, I think it’s a much more plausible headcanon that he has always been working as a double agent than your headcanon that he’s decided instead to randomly embrace being a fascist.

“You're basing your interpretation of his character on speculation — because it is somewhat difficult, in some ways, to reconcile the compassionate boy we saw in the woods with the fascist commander he's become by Act II — but I'm basing my reading on sheer text; on the actions and statements on the page.”

Oh honey, you are so close!!! Maybe it’s hard to “reconcile the compassionate boy we saw in the woods with a fascist commander” because he isn’t one? Maybe if you “read by sheer text; on the actions and statements on the page” you’d realise that his actions in act one don’t make sense in act two if you read him as part of the regime? Are you sure you’re not “basing your interpretation of his character on speculation” because you don’t like Fiyeraba?

“Saying you'd totally join the Gestapo instead of the Resistance if given the chance — because of "resources and information" — is not the winning argument you think it is, I'm sorry, lol.”

Oh sorry, Fiyero should have just gone down to the resistance job shop and got a top post there! The resistance that, as far as we know, basically doesn’t exist, as it doesn’t seem like Elphaba has got much help either (we know there’s rebel Animals that shelter her, but she’s also at the point where she tries to beg her father for help and seriously considers just giving up and joining the Wizard). It is probably endlessly easier for Fiyero, especially with his connection to Glinda to get into the Gale Force.

You also completely ignored my second part of the argument. Someone has to do this job, if it’s not Fiyero it’s someone a lot worse. We know Fiyero has compassion for Animals, we know Fiyero wants to protect Elphaba (we literally see him doing so three times in act 2). If Fiyero places himself in command, however grim it might be, he now has some degree of control over Oz’s army and how much damage they can do to the Animals and Elphaba.

“None of which was REMOTELY planned, or even likely.”

It wasn’t planned that he’d meet her in the throne room, no, but it certainly was planned and relatively likely that, by putting himself as the head of the search for the Witch, that if she was found in a dangerous situation he could get her out of it. He manages to get all his guards away and for her to escape safely, he couldn’t have done this if he’d been in any other position.

If you’re talking about the wider context, no obviously Glinda taking over wasn’t planned from this. But you told me him being in the Gale Force achieved nothing, it saved Elphaba’s life and allowed the ending to happen.

“Yes, she was literally forced into that, lol. Claiming she wasn't forced into her position when she was literally captured and molded into an asset of the regime — and then moralizing about her trying to make the best out of her literal enslavement — whilst somehow insisting that Fiyero going out of his way to enlist as an armed servant of the regime wasn't "endorsing the regime", is actually absurd.”

Oh don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you patronise Glinda by saying she didn’t have a choice. Don’t you ignore those quotes I gave you showing how she enjoyed it. Even her sad verse in Thank Goodness imply she joined because she wanted it (and only later found out it wasn’t quite how she planned). No one was going to imprison her, (you think my headcanons are wild lol), in the movie she literally only went to follow Elphaba because Morrible told her to, in the play she was given a little more agency, but she still made it very clear she was going to “get her back”, there’s literally no reason at all to enslave her, even in their eyes she’s done nothing wrong.

But ok, let’s take your “enslavement” fantasy scenario. Fiyero is literally the next candidate for Morrible to “enslave”, she knows he and Elphaba were at least tentative friends, she might even have realised he was also absent after the day with the Lion Cub, he’s dating Glinda and his royal connections and fame and likeability make him a useful asset. If Morrible really is blackmailing people to join her on trumped up charges, it would be very easy for her to either use the Lion Cub situation to blackmail into it, or threaten to hurt Glinda if he does not.

Sounds far-fetched? Yeah, you’re right. He joined willingly. Like Glinda.

“He acted on spontaneous desire, as he always does, and is a nihilist who never gave a shit about any of the things (or people) he cast to the wind to begin with. "He lost everything" — and you expect me to find that brave and romantic, I take it? I don't. Throwing caution and care aside to run off and have a passionate night with the object of his affects isn't WRONG — and I've never said that it is — it's foolish and selfish and impulsive.”

This is headcanon.

This is canon: he pointed a gun at the Wizard to help Elphaba escape. He had to escape too. (Did they have to have sex in the woods? Obviously not, but that’s kind of not really here or there, the egg was already broken, might as well make an omelette).

“He doesn't think about the potential consequences of abandoning Glinda; for never cared about either his own safety or hers,”

I’m sorry, are you really blaming Glinda telling Morrible and the Wizard to spread a rumour about hurting Nessa on Fiyero? Talk about fucking victim blaming.

I’d argue he cares a lot about Glinda’s safety actually, it’s pretty telling that all three times he saved Elphaba in act 2 (funny, you haven’t mentioned that in your reply) he leaves Glinda in a place where she not only is safe but can’t possibly be seen as and arrested for supporting Elphaba. As for his own safety? Well he secures it in the throne room, by the cornfield scene he’s sort of out of options – so he gets his girls to safety and sacrifices himself – that’s not not knowing the consequences, it’s deciding he is ok with them.

“When he makes "plans", they're all very ad hoc and making resourceful use of situations that he absolutely did not (and could not) have planned for.”

Not the Elphaba faking her own death plan! That must have taken days as the scarecrow. And careful manoeuvring of everything involved!

“I think it's a bit sad that he behaves that way tbh: because it speaks to his pretty hollow existence, as Elphaba herself identified.”

Well I have happy news for you! He no longer has a hollow existence! That��s literally what act two is trying to tell us!

Elphaba: Fiyero, you frightened me. I thought, I though you might have changed.

Fiyero: I have... changed.

*

You’ve got me seeing through different eyes

Somehow I’ve fallen under your spell

and somehow I’m feeling it’s up that I fell

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

[lovelyjj]

Just Doing My Job

Stuntman!JJ Maybank x Director!reader

requested by @thornyrose463

Being a movie director had its perks. You loved your job, you really did. You had all the power. You always had to make sure all the actors were good and all the technical aspects of the scene were good.

JJ was smitten. He had a massive crush on you. He was way to nervous to act on it though. JJ was a stuntman on the set you worked on. JJ was great at his job. He excelled at it. He was excited because he got to work with you everyday.

JJ was doing a particularly hard stunt. He had to fall from a tall height. JJ was a professional he had this in the bag. “Alright action,” you yelled. JJ fell and landed on an air mattress. “And cut.” “Very nicely done JJ,” you complimented.

“Thank you,” JJ replied. JJ’s next stunt was a car crash. The car was also going to explode. JJ knew it was going to be a little difficult but he knew he was going to nail it. You called out action and JJ preformed his stunt beautifully.

“Hey JJ, come here we’re gonna talk about the scene,” you called out to him.

JJ always got so flustered around you. He just got really nervous because you were so pretty and he thought so highly of you. “Okay.”

“So how do you think you did?”

“Oh um I-i i think i did okay, what did you think?” JJ asked.

“Well there’s some points I have to discuss with you but overall i think it went well.”

JJ was trying to get the nerve to ask you out. He just was so scared you would judge him. He also didn’t want to ruin the work relationship he had with you. He was already awkward enough he couldn’t imagine if things got even more awkward.

“Thank you,” JJ responded.

“Hey JJ, great job today. Get some rest for a good day tomorrow,” you ordered.

“Yes m’am.”

——————

The next work day went well. JJ wasn’t doing as many stunts as yesterday but he still had to be there because he was doing some stunts. You arrived early to get a jump start on the day. JJ watched you as you worked, not in a creepy way in an endearing way.

The work day trudged on. You did your job as director. Being the boss and directing the actors. After a while you told them to take 5. This is where JJ came up to you.

“Hey uh how are you?” JJ bit his lip nervously.

“I’m hanging in there,” you responded.

“Anything I can do to help?” JJ asked fiddling with his fingers.

“Oh no i’m good just working hard,” you smiled. JJ thought it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

JJ was trying to get the courage to talk to you more he was just so nervous. He was determined to ask you out the next time he saw you.

—————

JJ was back doing his stunts. It was the next work day and he was on fire. Literally. It was a new stunt for the movie and he was killing it. He was very good at his job and you were impressed. With his adrenaline from the stunt he found himself walking towards you.

After his scene he went up to you and nervously asked if he can have a word. Of course you said sure like it was the most easy thing to say.

Now JJ was scared because of the chance of possible rejection but also what would happen to your work relationship. He ultimately decided that it was worth it to even get the chance to ask you out.

“Um i was just wondering if you wanted to go out with me sometime. Maybe we can go grab some coffee, i i don’t know only if you want to.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you grinned.

“Rrreally? you’d like too? you want to?”

“Yes of course.”

When you agreed on a day the two of you went out. JJ charmed you. He was a gentleman the whole time. And it was safe to say there will be a second date.

[megwritesriddles]

Rough sex headcanons for Alex (sdv) please and thank you! Their relationship is writers choice.

MDNI 18+

thank you sm for the request!! I hope you like it!! I accidentally included a few random relationship headcanons (all suggestive tho) (not proofread because my grammar software wasn't working)

word count: 0.7k

Although Alex is a secret softie, he loves to be all macho and strong

Part of this will be talking a big game about sex even if he’s… not quite as experienced as he likes to get across

It’s a small town, give him a break

But anyway, while the two of you are still only flirting (over text) he will talk a big game

“I could have you screaming my name in no time, baby ;)” 

“Hope you don’t need to walk any time soon,”

“That dress you were wearing today… fuck… almost bent you over the ice cream stand,”

(He def sent you tons of thirst traps of his muscles and dick pics during that time, with your consent ofc, def asked for tons of nudes when he realised you’d be down for that sort of thing (prob keeps them in a folder on his phone))

“Like what you see babe? ;)”

“Look what you do to me when you send pics like that,”

“Fuck… that body of yours, you’re certainly doing something right,”

Then when he actually gets you alone he’s a little nervous

Not because he thinks he can’t please you, no no, he can definitely please you

But he’s quite a bit bigger and stronger than you are and doesn’t want to hurt you

Yet after he first sinks into your tight cunt and you give him those eyes… oh… you’re done for

He fucks rough every time, hips slamming against yours at a punishing pace, hands grabbing harshly at every inch of you, filling you up over and over and over, rubbing your clit with his thumb

“Yeah? You like that baby?”

You’re lucky your farm is so secluded, because he really does end up having you screaming his name

He loves to watch you come undone beneath him, it gives him a great sense of control over you

In doggy, he will grip your waist, pressing your arched back into your mattress as his cock bullies your cervix

He LOVES to show off his strength by manhandling you

Bending you forcefully over surfaces and holding you in place if you try to playfully fight against his grip

Holding you up in his arms as he fucks you in mid-air or against a wall, strong enough to hold you up for several orgasms

Throwing you over his shoulder, one hand playfully gripping your upper thigh as he walks you to the bed if you’ve been teasing him too much

His nerves around hurting you have disappeared, you take everything he gives you so beautifully and seem to relish in the sting in your legs after you’ve been fucked particularly hard

If you’re into that sort of thing, he might squeeze the sides of your neck as he fucks into you, keeping you from squirming away as he leans down to kiss you

Quickies are particularly rough, slamming into you, chasing his high relentlessly

“You always take me so well babe, so good just f’me,”

He is such a tease out in public, he seems to be in the mood 90% of the time and is constantly whispering dirty things in your ear, hoping to tempt you into taking him home and letting him use your body

Loves to gently squeeze you where you’re sore as a reminder of what you guys do when you’re alone, never enough to hurt, just enough to fill your mind with filthy flashbacks

Definitely grabs and smacks your ass a lot and even in public (as long as you’re around people that it’s appropriate around, he’s not crazy)

Always sends you off with a little pat on your ass.

“See you later, gorgeous,”

I can see him using a pic of you in a bikini as his phone background and not understanding why it embarrasses you

“What? Babe, you look hot!”

Brags about you to the guys on his gridball team in Zuzu city in a ‘guy talk’ way, but he makes sure not to be too gross and to respect your privacy (mostly)

He just wants everyone to know he's fucking the hottest girl and that she's absolutely perfect in bed and they will never have her

Usually wants to be on top of you, but on the odd chance he lets you be on top, he’ll lift you up and down at his usual brutal pace, practically using you as a toy, showing off his strength at the same time

If you ever gain weight, he will just train harder so he can continue manhandling you around

Definitely likes to pull your hair lightly while you kiss… or while you’re in doggy

Loves seeing your nail marks down his back in the mirror, its mark to him that he did a good job

Acts like a stereotypical fuckboy, but he adores you deep down

[sungiescheotluv]

mirror muscles ⭑.ᐟ na jaemin

pairing: na jaemin x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.7k

tags/warnings: fluff, established relationship, suggestive, gym talk(?)

summary: doing your new resolutions with jaemin has always worked in your favor, most goals ticked off your lists. however, when you mention going to gym, jaemin's enthusiasm reaches new heights.

notes: hiyaaaa! it feels like forever since i last posted (two days omg 🙄) but i do hope you pretty stars enjoy this very indulgent fic! as an aspiring gym girlie, i'd do anything for this kind of princess treatment (particularly from jaemin 😋) also, the title of this is based on the soft play song with the same name (emo jisung, lemme give u some music recs). ok, i think i'm done here. wishing u all the best, much loveeee! <3

Note to self: never, under any circumstances, tell Jaemin your New Year’s resolution. Because one peek at your ambitious list and Jaemin will pry you from your warm bed, at the ass crack of dawn (might you add) to go to the gym because ‘nothing beats a morning pump.’

If you weren’t stupidly in love with him, you would’ve dropped a dumbbell on his toe.

How you get to this point is a lot more wholesome. Since the start of your relationship, once snow trickles down for Christmas, you two sit at your dining table with your laptops opened on Pinterest and pin-point what goals you'd like to achieve the following year. This way, you’re not shouldering your ambitions alone, having each other every step of the year as you tick off box after box. So far, you’ve managed to complete most of your goals. Go traveling, learn a new language, cook more home-cooked meals, limit screen time (still working on that) and many more. Jaemin was also progressing well: dedicating more time in his photography, reducing his coffee intake, going to bed earlier and visiting his mother more. 

For this year’s moodboard, while collecting pictures of your next set of goals, fitness content shows up in your recommendations. People in pilates studios in their pastel pink gym-sets. The aesthetic draws you in, how content people feel moving their body besides getting their 10k steps a day in. More photos start showing up, people sculpting their pride in the gym, sharing personal stories of their fitness journey and how the gym has taught them so much about themselves. What they’re capable of, what they never thought they could do and what opportunities lie await now that they’re happier in themselves. It all seems promising, even more so when you reconsider how bright your best friend’s life’s become since making the choice. She’d rarely accompany you to a game of badminton and now she’s pioneering her own run-club, amassing a social media following the size of an army.

You’d have to ask her how to get started once she’s back from her influencer trip (maybe content creating is something you needed to hop on). Then again, peering over your laptop screen to Jaemin’s glowing face, you could simply ask him. He’s been consistently going to the gym for a while now, to the point where you fake-pleaded for SM to close their gym because your boyfriend's become too buff for you to function. He’s always been gorgeous, with a face that could charm a snake, but now that he’s carved like a Renaissance sculpture, you couldn’t form a coherent sentence around him. Of course, aesthetic reasons are what lured him into the space, but he relays it’s become a lot more than that for him.

“I want to be strong, not only to build my confidence but to also protect my loved ones,” he looks directly at you, a serious hue to his eyes that has you breathless. “It’s another form of self-love, is my thinking. Showing up for myself, proving I can do hard things, even when I don’t want to. That I can step out of my comfort zone, trying new things and ultimately, living a longer life. Because at the end of the day, as much as I do this for me, I also do it so I can help you carry groceries. So that I can move furniture around when we move in together, be the one that my family calls if they need something physically demanding done,”

Fondness curves his lips, a flicker of timidity dart his eyes down to the desk before they flicker back up at you, astoundingly earnest as he says, “I’d also want to keep up with our kids. Carry them when they’re tired or run after them in a park. Those are my reasons.”

Something stutters in your chest. Then, leaps. Over the course of your three year relationship, it’s only natural that topics like this are mentioned, like marriage and children. Heck, you two shared a Pinterest board of decor ideas for the shared apartment you’d been on the lookout for. So, it shouldn't phase you but it does. How far into the future he sees with you. How he shares a bit of himself so effortlessly, in a way that lacks pressure and possesses good faith. Love and promise. All prominent themes throughout your relationship, one you thank your lucky stars for.

As a consequence, you flush. Folding like the early days of your relationships. “You’re getting bold these days. We haven’t even moved in together.”

“All in good time, angel,” he grins, looking a bit lovesick. “In any case, if this is something you wanna do, I’d be more than happy to help. Go to the gym with you so you don’t feel anxious, show you how to use the machines, get you workout clothes - whatever you want.”

You could marry this man.

You extend your arm across the wooden table, hand finding his as your fingers interlace, the same song and dance you’d hope you’d spend your life doing. “Thanks, baby.”

And now? Now, divorce weighs heavily on your mind.

In an effort to avoid the New Year’s crowd, Jaemin wakes you up early in the slum of days after Christmas where time doesn’t exist, cuddling into your half-sleeping figure with a gentle voice. Coaxes you to get up, slip on the new gym clothes you’d spent on his card (his treat, he said) and somehow, here you are, stinging eyes squinting under fluorescent lights with some EDM track playing faintly in the background.

“Oh, baby. Don’t look so down, you’re in good hands,” Jaemin coos, hand squishing your cheeks under your chin before pulling you into his chest, warm and comforting. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Couldn’t this wait until,” you glance at your fitness tracker, your own treat to yourself. “Midday? No one needs to be here at 9 am.”

“Maybe, but it’s a good way to start your day. Or get it out of the way,” he chuckles, spinning you out his arms before he wiggles his eyebrows. “Plus, who doesn’t want to see my muscles first thing in the morning?”

He drives home his point by kissing his bicep, something that should make you cringe out your skin or disappear without a trace, but no. Perhaps you’re still sleepy, shielding a snicker with your hand because of how lame (said adoringly) he is.

“You said you’d usually start off with thirty minutes on the treadmill, right?” You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll go with you. I’ll run for fifteen and row until you're done. So you don’t constantly have me in your ear.”

You laugh, because as grumpy as you’d been on the way here, you could never grow tired of him. All his carefree and mischief nature, his sweet and generous manner - you couldn’t even if you tried. 

Few people populate the modern gym, near to none in the cardio section as Jaemin refreshes your memory on all the buttons before you begin. Beside you, he does sporadic sprints, no heavy breaths clouding his chatter with you. You, on the other hand, keep it relatively reserved for your first time, upping the speed when you want to challenge yourself, surprising yourself with the distance and time that flies by. Soon enough, Jaemin’s squeezing your hand and moving a few rows back where the rowing machines are, leaving you with your walking playlist.

Again, in a flash, time passes by, upbeat songs blaring in your headphones that make you dance through the next fifteen minutes, a simmer of sadness coming when you’ve reached time with a whole host of songs still in the queue.

“You can listen to them next time,” Jaemin winks before leading you into a dark, LED room dotted with mirrors and yoga mats. This is one of the rooms booked for classes, but for now, it’s your stretching area where you cycle through some stretches and Jaemin jokes about folding you like a pretzel. 

The one other person in the room - a woman in her thirties - coughs, before smirking your way, the heat of your embarrassment migrating to your cheeks as you swat at Jaemin. He simply laughs, stretching to reveal his happy trail and suddenly, you forget why you’re even mad. 

When you’re finished, he shows you different sections - an assortment of cable machines, the weights area and then to an area with more machines. There’s a few people occupying the machines, immersed in their own world with flushed cheeks and sweat seeping into their clothes. It fills you with relief, that no one’s focused on you and your sweating figure as if you had ‘gym newbie’ written across your forehead. Jaemin shows you some of the machines he uses, depending on what he wants to work out but for the most part, lets you decide what machines you’d want to use - if any.

“Why do I need to put on muscle? You putting me in a headlock is good enough.” You fake-complain, feeding off the gentle approach Jaemin’s taken in trying to convert you to a gym rat.

“And you say I’m the dirty one,” he tsks with a matching grin. “You don’t need to do anything. All I’m doing is showing you the options you have. The more things you try, the more likely you’ll find something you lik-”

“Is that the slut machine?”

Jaemin’s head jerks back, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “What are you talking about?’

“This one,” you approach the machine closeby, pointing to the photo attached along with its actual name - hip adduction. “Isn’t this the one where people like, open their legs like crazy?”

Jaemin shakes his head, amusement in the smile he swipes with his hand. “Yes, it is. Wanna give it a go?”

“Hell yeah,” you climb into the machine in a rush, finding the experience more exciting than scary as Jaemin makes sure everything is in order. “This is gonna be hilarious.”

“I’m setting it to a low weight. If it’s too easy, we’ll move it upwards and try and find your range,” he comments, looking at you through his silver hair. “You ready?”

“Ready,” and you go, the weight moving like nothing, so much so that when it sets back to its original position, you’re more caught off guard by how far apart your legs are spread. “This is so raunchy, ohmygod.”

“Good thing it’s facing the wall,” Jaemin laughs at you shielding in between your legs. He ups the weight, the number looking a lot scarier than anticipated. “Let’s try this then. You should be able to rep 10 of these.”

You shuffle, a bit unconvinced. Taking a breath, you engage the machine, exerting more effort than before but managing to do one rep. Then two, then three all the way up to ten. Enough to challenge you, but not strain you.

Jaemin howls, pinching your cheek as he says, “Look at you go! That was great.”

“Thank you,” you huff, the tingle in your thighs somehow the source of the happiness in your chest. “That was really fun, actually.”

“Isn’t it?” Jaemin smiles, using some paper towel to wipe after the machine for you. “Usually people do about three sets of those. Reps depend on what you want to do - build endurance, muscle strength, all that. But that was really great, I’m so proud of you.”

And you feel proud of yourself too. Having tried something new, feeling unsure but leaning into the feeling. Letting yourself see how far you can extend yourself, pleasantly surprised with the distance. 

So, this was what Jaemin was on about.

You continue your morning like this, getting a personalised tutoring session in how certain machines works and what areas they work out. Jaemin runs through his leg day, since you two were on the hip adduction machine, enjoying more exercises like leg press and goblet squats. By the time you get to the hip thrust machine to try, someone’s occupying it. Jaemin suggests using the squat rack, the scary thing with a long barbell and weights attached to it. Sensing your apprehension, Jaemin lets you know he’s got you, coaching you through the exercise and any queries you may have about movement or positioning. Eventually, it’s your turn to lean against the incline bench and despite your fear, you work your way through 8 hip thrusts. You don’t nearly enjoy it as much as people online talk about it, which Jaemin says,

“That’s perfectly fine. There’s so many exercises that work the same areas. You’ll find one you prefer.” 

Finished for your session, Jaemin asks for you to hold tight while he does some deadlifts. It’s maddening watching him pick up such heavy weights, concentration knitting his eyebrows together with his exposed arms flexing under the tension. Wearing a sleeveless top for the gym in theory is great, but for your mental health? Bad, so bad. 

Because even if your body rings with exhaustion, the kind that’s refreshing and ensures a peaceful slumber, you’re about ready to jump his bone. 

Ill with lust, as you’d joke. 

Jaemin snickers, snapping his waist belt off with one hand, which shouldn’t be sexy but is. Your eyes then trail to the barbell, the memory of Jaemin’s set vivid in your mind.

“Did you wanna try it?” Jaemin asks, reading your mind. “We can start off with no weights. Just the barbell. There’s also different variations of a deadlift, let’s see which one you prefer.”

Out of the three, you pick the most conventional one to start with, teeth sinking into your bottom lip at what you’ve gotten yourself into. Particularly after Jaemin loads weights on each end when you've rehearsed with the barbell.

“Think of the barbell cutting your feet in half - not standing too close so that your shins are touching it and not too far away that you have to lean to grab it,” Jaemin coaches, your feet shuffling into the right position. “Nice. Let’s move onto the hinge movement,”

From behind you, his hands settle onto your hips, pulling them back with him. He pats them, a chuckle left in his wake as he steps to your side to demonstrate without overly being horny. 

Bastard.

“Like you just did, you’ve gotta hinge your hips backwards until you can’t hinge anymore. Then, you’ll move a little into your knees, like a squat almost so you can grab the barbell,” you follow along, the barbell cold against your hands as you blow a breath.

“Great. Keep your body tense, engage your core and glutes. No arch,” his hand hovers over the arch of your back, something teasing in his smile. “Show your chest, keep your head up straight and lift the barbell up. Remember to keep it close to your body before you lower it down with the same hinge movement and movement into your knees.”

You puff out another breath, the same fear you’ve conquered throughout the session whirring in your chest.

“Don’t worry, angel,” Jaemin smiles, moving behind you again with hovered hands around your figure. “I’ve got you. You’ve got you.” 

Again, his words dawn on you. All the power in your hands, a feeling your heart wants nothing more than to run towards as you lift up the barbell, strength personified as you wait at the top of your stance, smiling at the “Let’s fucking go, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, angel!” in your ear. You hinge backwards, the weight knocked down to the floor with no tension on your back as expected.

Once you’re upright again, Jaemin engulfs you in a backhug, lifting your figure off the floor and kissing your neck, drawing giggles out of you. Joy moves through your body like warm light at his excitement that exceeds your own, belief not setting in quite yet.

“I can’t believe you,” he coos, the mirror ahead of you capturing the embrace he holds you in, the elation in his eyes as he does nothing but adore you. Like he’s always done. “Actually, I can. You’ve got a laundry list of things you’re good at. Can you believe it?”

“Not originally,” you admit, the confession somewhat bittersweet. “But after this, I think I’d better have more faith in myself.”

Fondness finds itself in his lips again, a kiss against your cheek as he gently guides you out the way, lifting the barbell onto the rack with his gaze in the mirror directed to yours. 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

And you fall into laughter, helping him slid off the weights before flexing in the mirror like you wanted, finding a different strength in yourself with Jaemin by your side.

[catgirlcalling]

Potential dialogue prompt:

"What did I do? Was i too much for you?"

"Oh god no Evan, it's me. I'm the one who's not enough, you're perfect."

We have a winner folks, you got me! Thank you so much for the prompt, because I just wrote my first little fanficlet since I was in the LOTR fandom back in 2004 😅 Here you go:

"What did I do? Was I too much for you?"

"Oh god no Evan, it's me. I'm the one who's not enough, you're perfect."

I’m not, is on the tip of Bucks’ tongue, and he knows Tommy can see it on his face when he presses on before the protest forms.

“The way you just accepted yourself, you agreed to a date with a man with no hesitation when you’d only realised it was an option a minute before,” a sad smile crosses Tommy’s face that Buck feels himself mirroring. “The way you didn’t question it until we ran into Eddie, and even then you were more worried you’d hurt me and lied to him than you were about coming out. You came out at your sisters’ wedding without a care in the world,”

Tommy pauses and looks up at the high ceiling of the loft. Buck watches his fingers clench and unclench in his lap as he tries to find the words, soot from the four alarm fire staining his nails still. Both the 118 and the 217 had been called to the warehouse fire and by luck, or serendipity or another damn curse they’d run into each other on site.

After an awkward minutes silence staring at each other between the firetrucks, something in Buck had finally snapped. He needed answers, but mostly he wanted…needed to talk to Tommy. But not here.

“Uhm, h-hi,” he stammers, then steels himself, tries to think what his therapist would tell him to do. “There’s a lot I want to say, a-and I think we need to talk, but we’re working. Call me, when we’re done?”

He swallows hard, and moves to walk past Tommy when he gets no answer after a beat. Before he makes it past the end of the truck, he hears Tommy’s voice, low and sad. “Yeah, ok.”

Which was how they ended up here, seated at the kitchen counter in Bucks loft, the deja vu from the last time they sat here not lost on either of them.

Tommy’s eyes finally fall and return to Buck’s, with a gentle sigh, “You said you admired me, and the way you talked about me…I don’t deserve any of that praise. I’m not perfect, Evan. I’ve done and said some awful things just to save my own skin, I was ashamed of who I am for so long, and I’m even a little jealous of you for how easily you accepted yourself and how you stood up for others. The way you see me, it’s amazing, it is…but it’s not me. And I won’t be able to take it the day you see me for the mess I really am. You deserve better than me, Evan. You’re perfect, and I’m so far from it. I didn’t do it just to protect my own heart, but yours too.”

Buck feels the tears sting his eyes as he stares Tommy down, weighing up his words. Then with a sniffle, and to Tommy’s surprise- a chuckle, he gives him a watery grin.

“The day you kissed me, what was I teasing you for?” Buck asked, making Tommy duck his head and give his own sniffly chuckle.

“You have the worst fake mouth static, and you’re a terrible liar- not as bad as Chim but you’re up there. Your taste in coffee is just weird, that amount of sugar is insane. You and my best friend made fun of me for believing in curses. I know you’re not perfect, Tommy. But I was an absolute brat the entire time I was cursed, whining and insecure and needy and too much and….” He pauses and takes a breath, leaning over and reaching for Tommy’s hand, hoping he doesn’t pull away.

“And you saw all of that, and looked after me anyway. You cared even when I was being my worst. Even when you dumped me, even right now I care about you. I know you’re not perfect Tommy…but I-I think you are perfect for me. We can work this out together. Please?”

Buck’s fingers brush against his across the kitchen bench, and they tangle together. Tommy doesn’t pull away.

X