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syntheticsymp · 25 days ago

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OK, I’ve been obsessed with that man for YEARS and that post about Nikto is one of my biggest headcanons (although there are also other drugs that do the same thing but do the opposite by increasing libido… so I’m sure if he/they knew they’d switch him off immediately, just so he could have his precious little thing shaking and screaming desperately for him, lol). So, figuring he still has dysfunction issues and is a very proud man, I think he’d be pretty good with his hands… I mean, he doesn’t need his dick to make you cum and he’ll prove it… (although I wouldn’t mind using it as a pacifier… ehh… just saying…).

*forehead kiss* Babes, I love the way your brain works. I am obsessed with this. Just thinking about this scenario gave me so many ideas. Nikto is one of the characters I love writing most for because his personality/personalities are so complex. I'd love to hear more of your headcannons because this man deserves more in-depth analysis.

If Nikto’s libido was high, god save his girl. He's not a kind man in the slightest, meaning you'd practically be a living sex toy for him. Round after round, not caring if you passed out on him, which you did many times.

Luckily, his medication was switched back about a week later after he got on it. But not before you were thoroughly molded to fit his stupidly thick cock. You sported a small limp for about a month, but Nikto didn't seem to mind carrying you room to room. It was the closest he could get to apologizing to you.

However, going back on his regular meds came with another problem. His ED was far worse than before. He went to KorTac’s doctor for it, but after being told there wasn't a good solution unless he wanted to go off meds altogether, he put that doctor’s head through a wall. His poor girl would stay empty for a long time. That's what truly irked him, the idea that you would forget how he feels inside you. That you would see him as inadequate. It didn't matter how many times you assured him otherwise, the voices in the back of his head were loud enough to speak over you.

Nikto was never good with affection. The two ways he knew how to show it was either physically doing something for you, or sex. Now that the latter was off the table, he was trying something more… your speed. It wasn’t really working. He wasn’t exactly one for change.

You, on the other hand, were growing used to him. His violent mood swings, what to do during his episodes, everything. The life you had before him was fading the longer you stayed locked inside with him. You started minding this less and less. After all, he claimed he loved you.

Though, he could only give you the closest thing to love he was capable of, if he was capable of love at all.

His hand lazily pet your head as he read some book in Russian. You were perched between his legs, cheek resting against his thigh, lazily pressing kisses to his soft cock. You alternated between that, licking fat stripes down his shaft, and sucking on his one remaining ball. He had lost the other during Mr. Z’s torture, that much he had told you. Occasionally, he'd give you a grunt of recognition, communicating that he appreciated your actions. Though, his lips stayed shut.

This wasn't for sexual reasons. He got nothing out of this, no pleasure aside from the knowledge that he had you wrapped around his finger. Which, oh, he loved seeing you so desperate that you'd suck so diligently on his cock, soft or not. But you knew the truth. You knew this was a tactic to keep you close and quiet while he read his book. You didn't mind, not really.

At least whatever medicine he was on now kept his libido at a dismal. Keeping up with him otherwise would be a nightmare.

Most of your nights with him, when he wasn't disassociating or trying to kill you, were like this. Quiet. Content. Nikto and his little pet. No brutality bleeding over from his job, no voices convincing him to choke you out, just silent affection. He was trying so hard to prove he wasn't rotted on the inside, that he loved you.

Then, Krueger decided to make a comment at work. That man was single-handedly the reason for most of Nikto’s bad moods. Usually, Nikto could block out his partner’s constant dirty jokes and babbling about old war stories, but some things he took a little too personally.

“How’s that little birdy of yours doing?”

That was enough to stop Nikto in his tracks. How had Krueger known about you? It wasn’t like Nikto had told him, or anyone for that matter. You were his, his to keep, his to protect. If your name got out at work, you could get hurt. Nikto knew the consequences of loose lips all too well.

So, Nikto didn’t answer. A glare would do.

He greatly underestimated his teammate’s need to harass whoever was closest. Most people assumed Nikto was the cruelest of the duo, when in reality, it was Krueger. He may hide it behind his signature toothy grin, but Krueger was downright evil, if evil truly existed. The only reason he hadn’t been fired was because he was a valuable asset. KorTac needed its monsters. No sane person would go on the missions Krueger and Nikto did so willingly.

“She’s cute,” Krueger continued. “If she ever needs a proper fuck, send her to me. Poor thing deserves someone who can actually make her come.”

It had been a joke. Nikto knew that. He worked with Krueger for long enough to know how the Austrian messed around. Still, that didn’t stop the comment from replaying in Nikto’s mind over and over. The voices whispered it to him over and over.

Even two days later, when he finally arrived home from deployment, it was still on his mind.

He could make you come. He had done so before, on the rare occasion that the medicine didn’t betray him. Sure, it hadn’t been recent, but he could. Besides, you cared about him anyway. You promised him you did. You wouldn’t lie to him.

Right?

He willed his brain to shut up as he took off his muddy boots, puttng them in their place by the door. It was late. You were probably asleep by now. He could simply get your reassurnce in the morning.

But, then again, why should he have to wait? He had been patient enough when finding you, carefully stalking you, bidding his time before bringing you here. Now that you were his, he shouldn’t have to wait.

Nikto didn’t care to use his stealth training when he moved through his house. He lived there, after all.

He pushed the door to his bedroom open, only to find it empty. Once again, the voices started whispering their honeyed poison.

She must have left us!

You were foolish to leave her.

Krueger was right. You couldn’t please her. You’re the reason we are alone.

Using the heel of his palm, he hit his temple. Did it help? Not really. But it gave him a reprieve, the feeling of physically beating the voices in his head back helping in its own way.

“Nikto?”

He snapped out of his daze. The voices receded. They weren’t far, just at his fingertips, but quieted enough that he could hear you through the fog.

“Yes.” His words were detached, like always. “It is us.”

You were sleeping on the couch, the pink blanket he had purchased for you when you first ‘moved in’ wrapped around your shoulders. You must have stayed up late watching one of your silly TV programs again.

“Are you…” It was important you choose your next words carefully. Nikto was never ‘ok’ and if you brought that up, it would cause a conversaion you did not feel like having at three in the morning. Asking about his deployment would only lead to reliving the memories, and then send his mind right back to that mindset. “Are you my Nikto?”

He nodded. Yes, of course, he was yours. Not the violent alter ego, not the one that wanted to watch you squirm and cry. No, he was the closest personality to sane that existed in his mind.

Sitting up a little straighter, you scooted over to the side of the couch, then pat the spot beside you. Oh, to think six months ago you were doing whatever you could to escape him.

Instead of joining you, Nikto took off his mask. You no longer stared at his scars, they had become more familiar to you than any normal facial structure. The chunk of missing flesh where his cheek once was, exposing his teeth, and the chemical burns that singed off most of his ear and molded part of his eye shut was simply the only face you knew. His short hair was messy with sweat from being hidden in that mask for so long.

Then, he placed his hand on the back of your neck, leaning down to meet you. He pressed his lips to yours forcefully, parting his lips to allow his tongue to slip through. He didn’t waste time when it came to tasting you, he never did.

The sleepy moan that escaped your parted lips was the closest thing a monster like him could get to heaven. Your mouth was warm in a way he was always chasing, hoping that it could somehow thaw the cold that had taken over his heart.

With your half-closed eyes and sleepy state, he quickly had you pinned to the couch, his hands shoving the blankets to the side.

You pulled back for just a moment to breathe before he pulled your back in. He needed to forget about the battlefield, about Krueger, about the voices constantly reminding him of himself. He breathed you in, lungs rattling, the long, scarred-over slit on the side of his nose causing a familiar whistle,

He kept you caged, pressing his crotch against yours. Only to find, once again, that he was soft.

He pulled back, hissing beneath his breath. Your eyes were wide, your eyelashes fluttering in a way that was so delectable. He wanted to fuck you, he knew he did. So why couldn’t he?

Maybe Krueger was right. What kind of man was Nikto if he couldn’t even fill you with his seed? Not that he wanted any of those snot-filled brats, but with you, he still wanted the option. He wanted you all round and pretty for him.

Instead, you were stuck with something broken. A damaged man who had thought he was worthy of you. You were his, he made sure of it. Yet there was always that doubt.

Seeing he had stopped, you started to scoot out from under him. Only for his hand to find it’s natural place on your throat, squeezng enough to keep you still. You had been in this position enough times to know that the worst possible thing to do was to fight him.

“You have been good for us while we were gone, yes?” He hummed, his Russian accent always seeming stronger after he had been gone for so long.

With the pressure on your windpipe, you could only get out a few words. “Yes. I-I have.”

The corners of his lips twitched up and his scars twisted in a way that looked painful. “Then a reward is overdue.”

Your eyes widened as his hand went to push up the shirt you had stolen from him to wear. Like always, you weren’t wearing pants. He never allowed you to, and always threw a fit if you did. Another one of his strange rules. Even if he couldn’t use your pussy the way he wanted to, he still wanted access.

He swiped his finger agonizingly slow up your slit, not entering, simply collecting your slick.

You shuttered underneath him, an action so innocent he couldn’t help finding so beautiful all on its own. All your little reactions, he had them committed to memory.

“Nik-“ You squeaked, nearly going cross-eyed. He hadn’t been intimate with you in a way that stimulated you in a long time. It had only made you that much more desperate.

“Needy thing,” he tutted. “Did you miss us that much?”

The words falling from his lips did nothing to distract you from the way he pressed his thumb against your clit, rolling the bundle of nerves between his fingers. The scars and ridges embedded into his skin rubbed against you in a way that was impossibly perfect.

“Yes!” You blurted out, “I missed you, all of you, so much!”

Tears began to form behind your eyes, and for once, they weren’t caused by pain. He inserted his pointer finger, slowly sinking it into the joint as your walls clenched around him. It wasn't as thick as his cock, but it wasn't bad. With his thumb, he kept stimulating pressure on your clit.

Back, years ago, when Nikto was still ‘Andre,’ he had been a bit of a playboy. His face was handsome in all the right ways, with a sharp jawline and nice facial harmony. Girls, and a few guys, often had interest in him, but he rarely reciprocated any genuine feelings. Nobody ever said he was a good man before he became a monster. He had left many girls crying after breaking up with them, not so much as batting an eye at their tears. But that experience gave him something. The man knew how to use his hands.

Granted, he hadn’t had to in some time, but he certainly remembered. Besides, it wasn't too hard to please you.

He curled his finger inside of you, causing you to squirm beneath him. Then, he started pumping.

Each motion was slow and deliberate. When he was having sex with you, the few times he could, they were all rapid and frenzied, like he was more animal than human. Whatever he was giving to you now was different. Soft, but causing stars in your eyes.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, clinging desperately. It wasn't like you to get worked up so easily, but something about his languid touch, how his finger fit inside you, was other-worldly. The fabric of his hoodie was bunched in your palms as you moaned beneath him.

Warmth pooled in your stomach.

Then, Nikto suddenly pulled his hand away, leaving you as empty as you were before.

“Hey!” You squeaked out, sitting straight up, only for him to push you back down.

The look in his blue eyes was familiar. Dangerous.

At that moment, you realized something. This wasn’t truly for you. Nikto wasn't trying to get you off just to make you happy, even if it was some twisted type of ‘reward.’ He was doing this for himself.

“You do not come until we say so.” He bit out the words like they owe him money, his R’s rolled in a way that was simply delectable.

You nodded quickly, doing whatever it took to get him to continue.

And, after a moment, he did. He resumed toying with your clit, his easy thrusts, he even threw in a second finger once he thought you could handle it. You picked up on his rhythm, practically humping his hand. Perhaps you truly did miss him.

Your first orgasm came easy. Hot, thick spurts of cum slid down his hand, wetting the cuff of his hoodie, leaving you breathless. You expected him to pull his fingers back out after that.

He did not.

He picked up right back where he left off, the aftershocks of your orgasm leaving you even more sensitive.

“Hang on, wait,” you tried to say and move away.

Only to once again find his free hand on your throat, holding you down. This time, he was not as kind to your pussy. His thrusts got deeper, harsher. And those damned baby-blue eyes were fixated on the way you took him. The way your cunt swallowed his fingers, the cum sqeulching as he pushed in, made him swallow.

“No.”

Making you cum once was not enough. He had so much lost time to make up for. Curling his fingers in, thrusting so deep he swore he could feel your womb, sloppily making out to swallow your moans, it was all he ever needed.

You lost count of how many times you came. He did not. A chorus of your screams and his rough, Russian words filled his home. Luckily for him, the two of you were far enough away from society that nobody would walk in. He didn't have to hold back or muffled your pretty voice.

The night dragged on for hours, his hands never seeming to get tired. Nikto had the training of a soldier and the endurance of one as well. Not even the devil himself could pull him off of you. All he could do was stare at you, never growing tired of your expressions, the ratio of pleasure to pain finally at a balance.

It was around seven in the morning when Nikto decided he was done with your reward. You had passed out around twenty minutes earlier and couldn't take another round, not even unconscious. So he scooped you up and finally, finally took you to bed. While he didn't need sleep, you did.

He brushed your hair out of your face as you lay in his lap. You were just awake enough to tug gently at the elastic of his pants.

With a small twitch of his lips, Nikto did as you wanted, and pulled down his pants just enough to free himself. Even after everything he did to you, every mind-numbingly hot face you made, he was still soft.

But, for whatever reason, he no longer felt guilty about it. How could he, when you sleepily slipped the thing into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip, just wanting to have him there.

This was probably his favorite ‘welcome home’ he had ever received after a deployment. His fears had been wiped away so easily.

Nikto had no clue why Krueger’s words had gotten to him. Clearly, Nikto could make his precious little thing cum as many times as you needed, as many as he wanted. And you seemed more than happy to fall asleep on his lap, face buried in his crotch, using his cock as a pacifier. He was wrong to ever doubt that.

You were made for him just as he was made for you. Forever and always, you were his.

#call of duty #cod x reader #nikto x you #nikto x y/n #mwii nikto #andre nikto #nikto imagine #nikto x reader #cod nikto #call of duty nikto #nikto #nikto fanfic #smut

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cowboylikefaith · 4 months ago

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with great power...

art donaldson spiderman! au x reader

summary: stanford has a masked superhero on the loose, and you're trying to crack down on his identity. little do you know, it's your boyfriend art.

warnings: cursing, injuries, reader highkey gets mugged, art is being mysterious af, reader is incredibly oblivious, sappy at the end sorry, not proofread

author's note: HI so this is actually my first time writing a fic ever... but this au idea has been absolutely rotting in my brain for the past week or so and i need to get it out. enjoy!!!!!!

╰🕸️ ₊✧ ﾟ❤️⚬𓂂➢

"dude!" you say barging into art's dorm (not realizing that your poor boyfriend was in the middle of a nap) "look at the topic the newspaper just assigned me. some shithead on campus is doing parkour in a scuba suit, people are calling him 'spiderman'."

art is pulled out of his trance-like state when he hears the name fall out of your mouth. you feel bad after realizing you woke him up, seeing him wipe his tired eyes with a pout on his lips. "hey pretty" he says with a lopsided smirk on his face "what were you talking about? some spider-idiot?" you hop into bed next to him "yeah it's nothing...sorry for waking you up, just go back to bed, 'kay?"

you don't know what's been up with art recently. he rarely returns your calls, he's always tired, and when he's awake, he's either in a rush or incredibly sluggish. you asked patrick about it and he said that the beginning of a new tennis season is wearing both of them down. seems reasonable, right?

now, it's been a few weeks since you were assigned this story, and jess (your senior editor) wants you to photograph and interview this spiderman guy, because apparently he's some kind of campus superhero (returning stolen laptops, helping drunk sorority girls avoid getting hit by cars, the usual) however you have no leads so far.

until one day, tashi tells you a story about how he saved a freshman from the tennis team from being hazed, and you decide to ask your boyfriend about it.

"you don't know anything about a kid named steven mcdonald, do you?" you ask art as you settle down to watch some gossip girl.

"that freshman who survived a hazing incident? yeah, i know of him" he replies as he pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead.

you pull away with furrowed eyebrows "well did he...say...anything about that night?"

"uh no. no, not really" he says (a little distantly) "anyway! i seriously don't understand why serena loves dan so much, nate is obviously the better choice for her."

you roll your eyes sarcastically "wow donaldson...really smooth transition! way to change the subject there honey."

"i'm sorry.." he replies as he plays with your hair "it's just that...i don't want you getting mixed up in that kind of stuff. if you got hurt.." he sighs "i don't know what i'd do with myself"

and so you promise art that you'll stop working on the article...until jess says she'll kick you out of the stanford star if you do.

one night, as you're walking back to your dorm after dinner with tashi and patrick (third wheel much?), a man in a black ski mask suddenly approaches you and orders you to put your hands up.

"give me your fucking heels lady...and your purse!" he demands.

"oh god no" you shut your eyes and groan "please sir, these are really expensive and- and these are manolo blahniks!! my mom bought-"

before you can finish your rambling, you can hear a thud, and when open your eyes, you can see that he's been wrapped up in some web-like substance.

"don't worry, he's not dead" a figure says as he walks out from behind the criminal. you feel like you know him, you can't even see his face but something about him is just so familiar, and you can't put your finger on it. until..

oh my god

"oh my god! you're spiderman! thank you so much, seriously. that guy could've killed me" you say excitedly, forgetting about your past opinions about him.

art- i mean spiderman, chuckles and says that it's no problem, and asks if he could take you back to your dorm.

"yeah! i would love that, thank you." you reply "actually, could i take your photo? i'm doing an article about you for the stanford star." oh and art eats it UP. he's doing stupid poses and acting silly and goofy (just to hear you laugh of course).

you get back to your dorm safely, and spiderart bids you farewell. just before he leaps out your window, he pulls a red stanford cap (one that you've never noticed, and one that looks suspiciously like art's) out of his pocket.

"hey, maybe i'll see you around" he says as he puts the cap on...backwards. something that only art would do. lucky enough for him, you're too tired to notice.

"...and those are the differences between meiosis and mitosis." you're trying to study for another biology exam when all of a sudden you hear a tapping noise on your window.

at first you think it's a bird, or some frat boy trying to piss you off by throwing empty beer cans at your window, but the tapping turns into banging and you start to hear sounds of pain through the glass.

you run to the window and see a boy in a familiar red and blue suit sitting on the windowsill. this time with a huge gash in his side.

"spiderman? oh my god, get inside, what happened?" you ask while scrambling for a first aid kit. art falls onto your bed, unknowingly bleeding all over your new floral sheets. he groans and holds his side, mumbling something about...well god knows what.

art protests as you try to patch up the very open wound by his waist. "you're just like my boyfriend art," you say with a grin "he gets all fucked up during his tennis matches and doesn't let me help him out." you can hear him through the mask but you can't tell if it's a laugh or a whimper.

"jesus- how long is this going to take? i have an econ final to study for" he says with a wince. "not very long if you sit still, spiderboy" you retort "why don't you take off your mask? you must be dying with that thing on."

you feel his face, and it feels...familiar. you slowly take off the mask, and reveal art's lips, sculpted nose, blue and brown eyes, and tousled blonde hair.

suddenly you realize. you realize the reasons for the missed calls, hurried kisses, and rain-checked dates. all this time you've been thinking that it was tennis kicking his ass, when really art was kicking other people's.

"hi honey" art mumbles, same lopsided, boyish smile that you fell in love with gracing his face "i'm sorry. i should have told you." before you can say anything, he kisses you and sneaks his hands to the small of your back. you can feel him smiling into the kiss as he pulls you into his lap.

"i missed you" you say, pulling away with a pout. you card your hands through his blonde curls. "i know, i know, i'm sorry pretty girl, it's just that...i don't want you to worry about me." art replies, pushing your hair away from your face.

you flick his forehead. "you dumbass. of course i'm going to worry about you, whether you like it or not...because i like you. a lot. no matter what kind of freaky superpowers you have." art lets out a weak chuckle, then he kisses you like a man stuck in the desert for 40 days. you can feel him drawing small circles along your hips and caressing your thumb.

you pull away one last time. "now tell me spiderboy...how did you go from tennis team captain to stanford superhero?"

#mike faist #art donaldson #challengers #challengers 2024 #mike faist x reader #art donalson x reader #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #guys please i was in ap lang i swear i'm good at writing #spiderman

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buntanteen · 9 months ago

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svt fic recs list <3 - yjh, hjs & lee chan - sfw ver.

reader insert fics!! though, lots of these are ot13 writings, i am specifically recommending the jeonghan, joshua and dino sections!

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

note: i haven't made a fic rec list since i was a teen lol. i'm gonna try do 13 recs per list (cuz that's how many members are in seventeen :3) i've added my mini thoughts and i'm going to add lil song recs too!! these lists are partially for me to look back on too :d

✩ yoon jeonghan ✩

❥ jeonghan boyfriends habits - @odxrilove

*sobs in cute lil domestic actions* shut up i LOVE having my hair played with and attention on me and physical touch that isn't necessarily affection and yapping and being playful ahhh

❥ bf!jeonghan headcanons - @etherealyoungk

this is exactllyyyy the kind of s/o i want raaaaaaaaaaaa. teasing, playful, sweetheart, pouty, mature and a listener. this made me smile soooo much

✩ hong joshua ✩

❥ joshua boyfriend habits - @odxrilove

*cries in physical touch and acts of service* mORE hair touching??? are you trying to speak to my heart😭 shua really said "my handbag is your waist" (just one day by bts reference) with that last one*

❥ bf!joshua scenarios - @etherealyoungk

*punches wall in chef shua making reader breakfast* he's just such a sweetieeee. the intentional quality time is something i can sooo see him doing

✩ lee chan/dino ✩

❥ dino boyfriend habits - @odxrilove

*cries in physical touch and acts of service pt.2* as a shy person, i love when my friends order for me (or when there's a qr code lol) i think i'd pass out if someone pulled me by the loop of my jeans kjfdbdfb

✩ ot13 works (yjh, hjs & lee chan sections) ✩

❥ seventeen as boyfriends - @catboyieejeno

super cute, lengthy and detailed for all members! i was swooning and giggling over each of them hehe~

jeonghan's bits of physical affection coupled with noise effects highkey make my heart soar idk whyyy

shua being a gentleman but bro i'll be one right back at you >:)) skincare nights??? as a skincare girly i would loveeee that ahhh

hAND HOLDING WITH CHANNIE GRRR. i love when people listen to me yap (my friend listened to me yap about svt today haha). i agree with that last bit about chan giving confidence and reassurance. he already does that for me as a fan, so it would be amplified by 990211x~

❥ seventeen when you reject their kiss (as a prank) - @emocheol

hannie was such a little shit. of cOURSE he'd be dramatic and do a 180 on the situation so reader is being pranked

shua's reaction was so hot. it was a mature approach to the situation and my brain started barking kjgbkfa

chan's killed me. this poor kid is trying his best jgfdkb

additionally, hoshi and jihoon's made me tear up a bit :,) they're so precious to me

❥ sharing the bed with seventeen - @emocheol

jeonghan. let. me. spoon. you >:((( (i just wanna cuddle him)

cackled at the absurdity of joshua's with full acknowledgement that him reading to me would make me fall asleep lmao

oh no...dino...we'd both kick each other off the bed

❥ matchy-matchy with seventeen - @lovingseventeen

wanna play with jeonghan's hair so baddd. i used to do my and my friend's hair so much as a kid

i don't really wear rings, BUT FOR SHUA I CAN TRY!! (kinda want a ring like svt does in honour of them?! idk tho)

chan and i are gonna pull up in comfy matching set fits yeahhhh

❥ you ask to leave lipstick stains on their face - @gi4hao

getting lipstick stains back from hannie?? fuck yeahhh

flirty shua *blushes and kicks blanket*

damn, dino sounds like he's in heavennnn (he's soooo down bad lmao)

❥ things they left with you before leaving for tour - @seuonji

jeonghan being thorough and specific and intentional with his shirt choices

joshie writing letters arghhhhh. as someone who loves to write letters to friends (via text or on physical cards) this really speaks to my heart

channie's is sooo fucking thoughtful and i freaking love snacks and quality time at a distance is difficult so i love this ahhh

❥ svt when they’re clingy - @gyuslcve

jeonghan's AHHH. how am i supposed to say no to himmm🥺🥺

shua...hE'S SO SOFTTTT HNGHHGHG. back hugs are so niceee ahhh

spooning? forehead kisses? hand holding?!!?! with dino?!?! yess pls :,)

❥ hyper/calm dynamics - @cxffecoupx

calm reader, calm jeonghan. low energy us just chillingg

all of the above reader & shua. fuck yeah. i tend to adapt my energy to the situation, so chaos can unleash whenever heh :3

hyper reader, calm chan. i will look at him with equal parts embarrassment and endearment haha

additionally: i would hype the shit out of hoshi. no one would never handle us grrrrr ఇ◝‿◜ఇ

mini message from me: thank you for reading!! stay cool or warm wherever you're at!! take care of yourselves and treat yourselves to something yummyyyy~ ς(.>‿<)

ames' song recs: serendipity by bts (jimin), heaven by rm, same dream same mind same night by seventeen (vocal unit), yes or no by jungkook & our summer by txt

taglist: no one yet, but if y'all would like to be on it, pls comment :))

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zepskies · 2 years ago

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This is more of a Sam and Dean request than a reader and Dean request but what about Sam having a crush on Dean's gf? How would he react to that, I am honestly CRAVING angst and this is the angstiest, is that a word, thing I could think of, I am so sorry if you don't like angst or this makes you uncomfortable!!!

Oh my God. You killed me with this one, hun. 😫😫 I have another SB imagine coming next week, but I thought I'd put out this one for Dean to break it up a bit.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,500

Imagine: You are Dean's one exception.

Sam knows it's wrong.

You're smart, with a degree in history that aids them well on hunts.

You're sharp, with a smart mouth that rivals Dean's (and keeps him on his toes).

But you're also kind. You take care of him and Dean with all the feminine grace and care they've never had in their lives.

Sam realizes it when he's up until 3 a.m. in the bunker's War Room. He's sat at the table, researching, eyes bleary, hands cramping from turning pages. And he finds a mug of hot tea sliding next to his idle hand on the table.

You're there with a smile and a hand on his shoulder. "Workin' hard or hardly working?"

Sam clears his throat and nods, chuckles a little. "I'm good." He eyes the mug. "Thanks, though I might need something stronger."

You eye him with gentle reproach. "Nope. Green tea is better for you this late at night. You really should go to sleep, Sam."

Sam tacitly agrees, but only because he can feel the warmth of your hand through his clothing, and it makes his face warmer than the tea. He watches you walk away, notices the curve of your ass in those little shorts. He can imagine your warm hands on his body, caressing him. He can imagine letting his lips graze your skin, exploring you, then devouring you.

And that's when his thoughts stutter to a halt. Sam inwardly cringes.

Despite his sleep-deprived brain, he's reminded that you're traveling down the hall to the room you share with his brother, and for Sam, it's nothing short of torture.

Because he realizes then that he isn't just fond of you. He doesn't love you like an older brother, or even a quasi-brother-in-law. He wants you.

Again, Sam knows it's wrong...but he can't help it. It's one of the saddest cliches in the fucking book. You're his brother's girl, and he wants you for himself.

And it's getting harder to hide it from Dean. They know each other too well -- a result of having no one but each other, but more practically, having lived in such close quarters for so long before they discovered the bunker.

When Sam gets hurt on a hunt, the cut is at a bad angle. He can't quite reach, so you dutifully come around and gently move his hand out of the way to do the stitch yourself. You tsk at him in playful disappointment. "I swear, it's a wonder you and Dean aren't walking patchwork quilts at this point."

Sam chuckles through his nose, wincing when the movement pulls on the stitch. You shoot him a stern look. "Stop moving."

"You're the one making me laugh!" he says, smiling incredulously.

"I don't accept excuses," you retort. "Keep still, please."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam says, his breath hitching for a different reason as he feels your soft hands along his side. He plays it off as pain. "Sorry," you murmur more sincerely. He tells you it's okay. His gaze flicks up, unconsciously finding Dean's face across the room.

He's just finished cleaning a cut on his hand. But he's been watching; Sam can tell. Dean's too perceptive not to notice Sam's discomfort. He probably even knows why. Sam can see a glint of it in Dean's eyes, the stoic front of his face.

"There we go!" you say in satisfaction, and you pat Sam's bare arm. He gives you a wan smile. "Thanks."

"You done, sweetheart?" Dean asks. You get up from your seat by Sam. "What do you need?" you ask.

"You. Come 'ere," he says with a smile, giving you a beckoning finger. "I felt that knot on the back of your head earlier. Think you're slick?"

You huff, but you also smile, in the way you only do for Dean. Sam watches you get up and go to Dean, who touches your cheek, stroking with a thumb first. Then he parts your hair to inspect the back of your head, and you wince a bit. You did fall pretty hard, now that Sam thinks of it. He frowns.

Dean lets out a deep breath. "You've got a nasty bump. You're taking it easy tonight, got it?"

"Yeah? Gonna help me relax?" you whisper. But Sam still hears you, because apparently no one taught you how the hell to whisper.

Dean smirks. "Watch it. I'll think you're flirting with me."

You give him a coy smile as your hand travels up his chest, between the open edges of his plaid shirt, then all the way down, to tease at his belt. "Believe me, when I do, you'll be the first one to know."

Dean's smirk deepens, but his eyes are softer. He closes a hand around yours and brings it to his lips. You lean up and request, wordlessly, for a kiss. Dean obliges you, capturing your lips with a soft kiss.

He eventually breaks from you, only to press his lips to your forehead next, closing his eyes with a sigh. He doesn't like it when you try to hide your injuries from him. You just don't want him to worry so much.

You smile and rest against his chest afterwards. It's clear as day what your heart holds.

It's hard for Sam to watch. His throat constricts, but he takes pains to avert his gaze.

He's so full to the brim with this that he sees no other recourse. He catches Dean alone in the kitchen and tries to make a confession. "Dean, we need to talk."

"Can it wait 'til I'm done?" Dean's plating up some stovetop mac and cheese -- your favorite.

"You're done cooking," Sam points out. Dean looks up at him. "We're doing a little dinner in bed situation. I made her promise to take it easy."

Sam admires the way Dean takes care of you. He really does. But it's also like a small oyster knife twisting in his gut. "Good. I'm glad," is all he says. "Yeah, we can talk later."

"Later" doesn't come for a long time. Weeks, in fact. But every time he tries to broach the problem, Dean finds a way to wiggle out of having the conversation. Always a distraction. A hunt. A fire you almost started in the kitchen. Being "in the middle" of something -- something in the bedroom that you insist needs Dean's immediate attention. Sam gives up for a while after that.

But Winchesters are nothing if not goddamn stubborn. Sam finally catches Dean alone in his room for once. You've gone to the grocery store, leaving the brothers alone in the bunker, but not for long, so Sam needs this chance.

"Dean, can we talk?"

Dean looks up at his brother from where he sits on the edge of his bed. He taps his knee, releases a breath. They both know what this is.

"Are you gonna do more than talk?" Dean asks. It's not what Sam expects. "What?"

"Whatever's on your mind, are you ever gonna do something about it?" Dean asks.

Sam stares back at his brother. He thinks. Hard. He's flipped back and forth for months. If he tells you how he feels, it's over. Things will never be the same between the three of you. It'll confuse you. It might even hurt you. It'll hurt Dean. Sam loves you both, if in very different ways.

So Sam is a bit deflated when he raises his resigned gaze and meets his brother's. "No."

After a moment, Dean nods. "Then we've got nothing to talk about."

But... Sam wants not to want you. Not to love you. Deep, deep down, a large chunk of him feels that he shouldn't have to hide himself. That you have a right to know the depths of what he feels, and what he feels for you.

"I see you're not convinced," Dean says dryly. Sam is silent, until Dean sighs and beckons him over. Sam obliges and sits down next to his older brother, the man he's looked up to (at least metaphorically) his whole life.

"I'd give my life for you. You know that. Right, Sammy?" Dean says. "If I couldn't tear the world apart, I'd lay myself out flat."

Sam sighs. "Dean..." Of fucking course he knows that. Dean already had given his life for him once. Remembering that only adds to Sam's guilt.

Dean meets Sam's gaze directly then. "But this is where I draw the line. She's my line," he says. His face is almost stoic, but his eyes are filled with unyielding fire. "I'm not layin' down on that. Not for you. Not for anyone."

Sam's heart clenches with every kind of pain, but he's also never respected his brother more. He nods. "I get it."

"No, you really fucking don't," Dean says. He's more than serious. "I mean it, Sam. I'll break your damn nose."

After a long moment, Sam nods. He knew Dean loved you. Of course he did. But this is the first time Sam truly understands how deeply. How completely. It's more than jealousy can fathom.

Sam realizes then that he lost, even before he began.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 I got way deeper into this than I expected to. Poor Sam. 😭 But I hope this scratched your angsty itch, my dear!

Read the Sequel

Here's the requested sequel to this: Sam crosses the line.

Also, if you want to read the reverse of this (Dean is in love with Sam's girlfriend): Dean gives you an impossible choice.

Dean Winchester Imagines

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@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @luvs4dria @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

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#ask me stuff #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #being deans one exception #sam in love with deans girlfriend #sam winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam and dean #angst #unrequited love #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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gingerbread-in-july · 4 months ago

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Under the cut lies my personal ranking of all of Spencer Reid's love interests, both actual and potential, from best all the way down to worst, plus a whole lot of unfiltered sassy commentary that nobody asked for. Then again, nobody asked for any of this, but my brain was just on one of its neurodivergent tangents. There's 11 total. Some of this- probably a lot of this- will piss some people off and I am truly sorry. I hope there's at least some other people out there who share my strong ass opinions.

1. Dorian Loker- I will never forgive these bitch ass writers for never following up on that storyline. He asked her out in Russian, for Christ's sake! One of the only times in the entire series he actually initiates a date with somebody. He complimented her coffee! For him, that may as well be a pickup line. He was finally moving on from Maeve. That was a huge fucking step. He was shy and unsure of himself, but he was clearly into her, he was flirting the best he could, and he fucking asked her out. Don't even get me started on him being into her enough to set aside his germophobia and touch her hand by the end of the episode. Or his gutted little expression when he realized he spoiled the book she was reading. They were adorable and they could have been everything. Of all the one-episode love interests, she's the one I'm most pissed at them for never fucking following up on.

2. Ethan- They were not just friends. I read somewhere that Spencer was initially supposed to be bisexual. They might have scrapped that, but bi Spence still found a way. They for sure hooked up. For. Sure. The chemistry was just there. And I am not one of those weirdo bitches who are overly fetishistic toward m/m pairings. I'm too fucking gay myself to get off on two men together. But those two men for sure were a thing- and good for them.

3. Austin the bartender- She was hot. They had chemistry. More chemistry than he did with his actual girlfriends. End of.

4. Ashley Seaver- I know y'all hate her and that she wasn't technically a love interest. However, I guarantee that she would have been if they'd kept her around. They were definitely setting it up to be that way. And, you know what? They'd have been a damn cute couple. I'd have loved to see it. And no, the "sorry for asking" moment was not grounds to disqualify it. Everyone else said as bad or worse to him at some point. If you can ship him with a psychopath who drugged him, framed him for murder, got him falsely imprisoned and nearly killed, kidnapped and tried to kill his mother, and lied about r*ping him and getting pregnant? You can ship him with Ashley fucking Seaver. If you can ship him with his fucking doctor who used her own loneliness as an excuse to violate all kinds of professional and ethical codes? You can ship him with Ashley fucking Seaver. If you can, perhaps worst of all, ship J*id? You can ship him with Ashley fucking Seaver.

5. Lila Archer- I think their worlds were ultimately too different for them to work long-term, but I do think they would have made a sweet couple for a while. They would each give the other things that their worlds were lacking. They wouldn't have been endgame, but they'd have stayed good friends. Also, "bUt aMbEr hEARD" isn't the dunk you think it is. Johnny Depp is a rich, 60-something year old white man who is problematic as fuck in his own right- and he's never going to fuck you.

6. Cat Adams- Do I want them to actually be together? No. Does she deserve him? Hell no. Would the people further down this list technically be better for him than her? Probably. But......the chemistry, y'all. The chemistry was there. Matthew and Aubrey just play far too well off of each other.

7. Maeve Donovan- I didn't hate her, but she was just a vehicle to give Spencer more trauma. I don't think she was "the one," "the love of his life," or any of that other stuff some say. I don't think they'd have lasted if she'd lived. They didn't really know each other. She lied to him about having a whole ass fiancé she never told him about. God only knows what else he didn't know. He started out as her fucking patient, for God's sake. The ethical violations were out the ass. I don't think she'd have crossed those lines if she weren't feeling so vulnerable and isolated from having to hide from her stalker. At least, not if she's as smart as everyone claims she is. Everyone- including Spencer- only puts her on a pedestal because of the tragedy of her death and not knowing what could have been. What would have been had she lived......probably wouldn't have been all that great in the long run.

8. Linda Kimura- I'll be honest, I don't recall a single damn thing about this woman. I forgot she even existed until I saw her pictured on a potential love interest compilation. While I don't recall them having any chemistry whatsoever, I'll still include her for the sole purpose of ranking her higher than the rest of these shit bombs. And speaking of bombs, that brings us to......

9. Dylan Einstein- For the life of me, I just don't understand why people go so hard for this pairing. It's like she was generated in a Mary Sue factory to fit some stereotype of what AI might imagine Spencer's ideal woman to be. Her last name is Einstein, for fuck's sake. I'd probably respect it more if they did just name her Mary Sue. They were trying too hard to present her as Girl Spencer. The bitch even wore a purple scarf! She also just came across as annoying and overly eager and seemed like she didn't really understand when to fuck off. She butted in too much while Derek and Spencer were trying to work. Some poster here said that the actress who played her shipped the character with Spencer. That is more than obvious in the way she plays her. It's like she read a bunch of Wattpad fic and decided to use the character to try for her Y/N moment. Can't blame a girl for trying, but that is one "love interest" I am glad was a one-off.

10. JJ- What could I say that hasn't already been said? The J*id plot was painfully forced. Spencer has more chemistry with a fucking paperweight than he does with JJ. Do I love their friendship? Yes. Do I love watching Spencer interact with her kids? God, yes. But, he's Uncle Spencer, not Stepdaddy Spencer. The only way Spencer and JJ are more than friends is that they're found family. Will is an absolute saint of a husband. Fuck them writers for doing him dirty like that. Even pre-Will, Spencer and JJ just didn't have the chemistry like that. I'm glad they scrapped that bullshit early crush storyline after just one episode. Also, am I the only one who remembers Spencer being totally unaffected and not even giving half a shit when JJ finally came out to the team about being with Will? He said something along the lines of "We all knew already." He was so unbothered. No way in hell has he been "waiting for JJ" this whole time or whatever these clowns pulled out of their asses toward the end. Such a waste of a plot. Literally any other pairing would have made more sense.

11. Maxine bitch ass Brenner- Here we are. Last and least. Even J*id was better than this shit. What the fuck even was the goddamn point of this bitch besides having an excuse to have Rachael Leigh Cook guest star? Too bad this is who she had to play. She was just rude as hell with her snark, her bitchy little expressions and the way she mocked the kids- elementary school aged kids- she taught. As if it was beneath her grandiose idea of herself. How could they for one second think that somebody like Spencer- somebody who loves kids, loves to teach and to learn and values education as much as Spencer- could ever like somebody like her? They were already having to cram way too much into too little space that last season. It was already a shit show. What the fuck was the point of adding her only to never bring her back? I mean, good call there at least because she sucked. I can only assume Spence realized how much she sucked and ditched her ass. She was just a pointless waste of time and never should have been a thing. I'm glad Spence made out with Cat in front of her and I hope it chapped her ass that he never kissed her that way. Glad her family didn't die, but she and they can all fuck all the way off down the road.

Thanks for sticking this one out if you did.

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the-kr8tor · 10 months ago

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I just saw that your requests are opennnn. Would you be so kind to write something with alt/goth/heavy lipstick wearer r kissing Hobie's face and leaving kissing marks?? Maybe Hobie kisses r back and since he's also a lipstick wearer he leaves marks on r face too! And mayyybe they're not fast enough (or they just don't care to be seen like that) and their friends are just like, damn those lovebirds

As always, only if you feel comfortable to! Or in case that you have a similar prompt I'd love to read it! Take care and drink water bb love ur brain 🖤🖤🖤

Aisbwijsjwjsjs so cute!! Thank you for requesting! 🩷

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except they're mentioned wearing makeup), lots of smooches, lovestruck Hobie, Fluff!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You're incredibly glad that Hobie made this long vanity for you and him because now you can enjoy the view of him sitting next to you while he puts on his show makeup complete with dark smudged eyeshadow and black lipstick. Your hand is paused around your own lipstick, (a deep wine shade to compliment the same colour of his guitar) eyes ogling his own expert hand as he glides the lipstick on his lips.

Hobie notices of course, he flicks his eyes over to you, mirroring your position, smiling at your lovestruck gaze. “Careful,” he rubs his thumb across your bottom lip, “you're droolin’”

You gasp, feigning offense but you don't move away from his touch even though he has smudged your own lipstick. “No I'm not.” Shaking your head, Hobie rubs the slight red tint from his thumb to his own lips. You swear your brain short circuited right there. “You…” you practically sigh the word, “smudged my lipstick.”

Hobie, being the menace that he is, hops his chair closer to you. Head on his palm, face leaning close, eyes that are illuminated by the vanity lights roam all over your pretty face that you've painstakingly made up for his show. ‘for inspiration while you're on stage,’ you said, but you'd be a distraction for him, the best kind of distraction. He can see your breath stuck in your throat. “I think I made it better actually.”

“No you didn't.”

He now has his arm looped around your waist. Metal bracelets and rings clinking against each other. “How'd you know? You haven't seen your face yet.”

You tilt your head, mimicking his position, smiling as he rubs the small of your back. “I can see myself perfectly in your eyes, Hobie.”

“Yeah, and it's a bloody good sight.” You already know what he's about to do before he even leaned close. Your hand is on his chest as he peppers your face with quick affectionate kisses, your giggles echo around the bedroom, fingers curled around his belt loops to pull him closer, making him peck you more fervently.

“We're gonna be late—!”

“I–” kiss, “don't,” he smooches the tip of your nose. “Care.” With his lips puckered over to the corner of your lips, he finishes with finesse by kissing your lips, mixing in both dark shades, a perfect combination of the two colours. “There, I never thought you'd look more gorgeous, but ‘ere we are, eh? I love that colour on you.”

You inhale for air, peripheral vision looking at the mirror, showing you your face that's covered in black kiss marks in various opacity. “I think you're right,” you nod with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “But I think we gotta match for this look to work.”

Hobie laughs wholeheartedly. “Hit me, love, make me look bloody fit.” His eyes are already closed, bracing for your kisses.

“That's impossible, you're the fittest man alive. Anymore than that you'll kill the crowd.” Your hands cradle his face, lips puckered, smooching him to hell and back.

—

Ned checks his watch for the umpteenth time, groaning impatiently at the empty space in the green room where Hobie is supposed to be already sitting with you lounging next to him.

“Where the fuck are those two?” He stomps his foot, “we need to be on stage in five!”

Yuri sighs, mindlessly playing with an imaginary drum to keep her hands occupied or she might end up eating the whole bowl of green skittles. “Don't know, let's hope they don't show up with hic—” the door creaks open. Yuri and James’ loud laugh echoes around the space. “Fucking hell! That's a lot worse than I thought!”

Ned twirls in his swivel chair, groaning, head in his hands. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you two? We're supposed to be punk!”

You grin at the band, hand holding Hobie's, squeezing him giddily. “What?” You both say simultaneously, looking oh so innocent. You look at Hobie who's covered in your kiss marks, lopsided smile on his lips, eyes shaped like hearts for you.

Hobie's heart is full at the sight of you covered in his own kiss marks, from your forehead to your neck, you're covered in it. He looks back at his band, Yuri's on the floor laughing with James who has his camera taking dozens of pictures, and Ned just shakes his head at the two of you. “C’mon now, before the crowd gets antsy, yeah?” They're gonna like his new look.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #atsv x reader #atsv imagine #atsv fanfic #atsv hobie #atsv fanfiction #hobie brown x gn!reader #spider punk x gn! reader #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown fanfic #hobie fanfic #hobie x reader #hobie fluff #x reader #fanfic

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sillydeimos · 21 days ago

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I love your take on jeb. He would be the pettiest, most cryptic tsundere on the block. Especially in his love life.

But i do kind wonder how jeb would end up in a relationship with hank at all. Hank seems like he wouldn't try deciphering jeb at all. If jeb wasn't the one person capable of reliably killing hank, well, jeb would be long dead.

Headcanons for how jeb and hank start their relationship?

i've been waiting for someone to ask me this for 10 years

and to be fair my stance of jeb being a petty little bitch isn't unsubstantial, he does do many petty bitchy things in canon. he had an entire note prepared announcing that he was quitting and just slapped it onto a wall before angrily leaving. that's the bitchiest little move anyone could ever pull.

anyways. let's get into the two emotionally unresponsive freaks. apologies if this gets long that's why it's under the readmore. better skip this post cuz this one SUCKS! disclaimer i'm an idiot

so... while it might not look like it at first, hank does enjoy fighting with jeb, or at the very least, fucking with him. i think he likes the reactions he gets out of him. i see a lot of people just say hank like hates him and despises him and i think that is true and obviously canon, but in the words of krinkels: 'i don't think he has hate in his head for anyone' (paraphrased)

*does a little wave that pisses you off*

i think it's more that he gets very annoyed with how jeb is and doesn't trust him.

ANYWAYS, MY HEADCANONS:

-it's definitely not a traditional way of starting a relationship, i'd say there'd be no confessions but jeb is kind of addicted to never shutting the fuck up. he's uber confrontational, so if he starts feeling a certain way, he'll probably tell hank when he deems it necessary.

as for hank's side, he definitely thinks jeb is very annoying and needs to shut up for once, but there's also something about him he can't really place. he thinks he's a good fighter for one, and he respects that, which means a lot if hank actually respects someone. he rarely gives anyone credit...but the man is good with the sword what can he say.

and like. as much as they could theoretically get along, hank is very aware of christoff's motivations and patterns, he doesn't want to aid christoff in whatever stupid plans he has, nor does he want to be a follower, so i think he would make that very clear to christoff like hey. i'm not a pawn for you. which ofc jeb is like 'i don't treat anyone like a pawn, how could you even give such a assumptive, baseless accusation' and hanks like *gestures to sheriff and hofnarr*

basically it's a very slowburn kind of romance, the worst kind especially with these fucking two. don't get me wrong i don't think they're the traditional kind of romance at all they're definitely not holding hands while skipping down the road together but also like.

could either of them ever be in a traditional kind of relationship? like i think it's just like...a relationship that would work for them, and only them. don't let anyone else know what you two got going on here

hank's not gonna cater to his bullshit and christoff is just gonna have to learn how to deal with that because he can't just get rid of his feelings no matter how hard he tries. and hank, annoyingly, can't figure out which part of the brain he has to stab to get rid of his feelings. he's trying to use brain diagrams from doc's lab but they're confusing to read :/

they both don't give a fuck about romance, and they're not really even into the idea of them but they both look at each other with a mutual feeling of 'i feel a strong intense attraction to you so much to the point where i want to kill you, go into the other place, and then permanently kill your s3lf so that you're dead forever and i was the one to do it. let's make out.'

TLDR: their relationship just kind of happens overtime, probably with christoff initiating it and hank is just kind of like oh we're doing this now. okay.

........OR MAYBE I'M WRONG WHO KNOWS! haha. um. heyyyy. thanks for reading.

#had to remove a third of this post because i realized i was just fucking analyzing the series and not giving my headcanons #like a dumbass #asks.fla

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crushedsweets · 7 months ago

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ej x nurse ann but in a will they won't they flirty friendship kinda way🤭 they are always trying to one up the other when it comes to medical work too so it's like lowkey flirty rivals.. do u see what I'm putting down Sweets?! Long story short I'd let them both operate on me

wait omg i was gonna draw smth for this but its been so long n im tired so i should jsut type.

also it feels so weird to go back to talking abt creeped lore cuz i feel like i have so much information but idk how/if anyone could emember it cuz its been sooo longgggg LOL so if anything is like "??? this isnt canon ???" its cuz my AU is very specific and changed etc etc. CREEPED DISCLAIMER WE ARE SO BACK

OKAY SOOOO. in my au specifically, nurse ann is a fake nurse! she was a red-room sorta cam girl (killed ppl for donos), and used a sexy-nurse-persona to draw in more views!

meanwhile, jack only got a few internships in at hospitals during his masters program before the sacrifice.

i could see jack meeting ann because he's close to Lulu and feels really protective over her. so he'd be guiding lulu back to the hospital one day, holding her hand and being all soft spoken while Lulu goes on her little ghostly rants.

and of course, Ann pops up !!! and she's so beyond horribly annoying!! quickly peering over Lulu's shoulder and being like "hi handsome, youre so tall, whats your name, your voice is so deep" whatever. i think it would embarrass the hell out of jack and he'd just be pretty stiff n awkward. polite, but awkward.

eventually he'd scamper off and ann would tell lulu to "get your little tall friend over here". and maybe it would work, HOWEVER, in my creeped canon, it wouldnt go anywhere beyond jack being like T_T and ann eventually giving up . she wont tim too bad.

HOWEVERRRR, if we diverged from creeped canon(which already diverges from creepypasta canon...) for the sake of ann x EJ...

i think it would be cute if she kept flirting, and he was kinda like Jesus Christ you are beautiful . LMFAOOO. and she picks his brain about college life and just him in general, out of curiosity, while he picks her on....well... being some sort of zombie demon vampire thing.

and she'd love him quietly pulling her apart at the stitches. making quiet little observations and scribbling notes and i think EVENTUALLY, he'd get to the point where he is just being snarky with her. theyll be sassing eachother and bickering and she'll be like "well if you keep talking to me that way im not gonna let you make a single note on me ever again" and he's like "you know that isnt true."

LOL.

WAIT. IM KIND INTO THEM RN WAAAIIIIIITTTTTTT

#waves my arms around frantically #mfw my anons always got me into new shit #creeped #asks #fuuuck

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chasedeys · 4 months ago

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......do you have any thoughts about omega ja'marr in an a/b/o setting 🧍‍♂️🏃‍♂️

your hand in marriage. right now. idc idccccc how do you want to do this. /jk hehe i do love and appreciate you though!!! so beware this goes on and on and also has koc/jj in the end because now that screams traditional alpha/omega couple

a/b/o joemarr 😔 are you really truly down bad for a ship if you aren't thinking violently persistent thoughts of them in an a/b/o au.

i am Horrendously down bad so. i fuck so heavily with alpha/alpha joemarr because hello.....alpha pairings.......god...........'battling for control' bullshit except no they actually give it so willingly.............

BUT OMEGA JA'MARRRRRRR that's literally my shit 😭😭🫶🫶🫶🫶 literally everything about him is my shit i fear. call that Obsessive.

him being not of the standard beauty looks wise or traditional omega wise because!! he's brash, he talks his shit, he works his shit, he's big and strong, he chooses his tattoos big and bold, he laughs too loud and unapologetically, he makes crude jokes, he punches alphas in the dick, he flirts with all omegas and betas and steers clear from alphas, okay well no he does flirt with alphas but only to leave them high and dry because he finds it funny (and inside hes terrified and uncertain of being with any kind of alpha) and then just laughs over it bc he's untouchable they can't bring him down at all because he's the exact opposite of traditional subservient omegas he Can and Will kick your ass if you try anything messy with him.

but he also likes the idea of being that kind of omega!! not completely bc if anyone tries to take his rights away or order him around just because they're of a 'higher hierarchy' than him he'll kill them the fuck but!! he loves nesting! loves cooking! completely and utterly shit at it at first but he obsessively pursued it bc someone put it in his head that all good omegas know how to cook and he thinks its crock shit now but back then he stuck with it because he's suchhhh a romantic at heart. he loves the idea of providing and caring a home and nest for anyone he cares for and KIDS ugh we all know how much he loves kids. joe looks at him playing with a kid and his brain melts out of his ears fearfully getting into a knothead headspace he has to reel it back in heavily.

(also something abt me even if i KNOW this person Cannot Cook For Shit in some universe i will make them A Good Cook. it doesn’t even have to be because of plot or anything literally no correlation whatsoever but i'd love to drop in a ‘ja’marr hisses at him to take his spoon away from his cooking pot of gumbo what is he an animal’ or a ‘joe pokes at his side so he’d scoot away, pouring the pancake batter in then smearing the laddle on a distracted ja'marr's hand and laughing when ja’marr yells at him’ or whatever. like i answered a bit here!! learning how to cook together so they wouldn't die of scurvy ❤️ i know they can hire private chefs damn it but who the fuck cares think of the Domesticity)

but back to the omega ja'marr he isnt always like this!! before he grew into the steel spined take-no-shit omega he is now he was a whole lot more shyer and idk uncertain during college!! sure he'd still brawl and flirt his way through etc etc but when people try to deck him down a notch because of his omega status he'd still freeze up at first! it takes time especially in this shit show of a testosterone high alpha centered sport for him to steel his spine to downright indestructible.

totally sleeps around with omegas and betas, tells alphas to fuck off liberally he’s not getting a pregnancy scare (mpreg is such a hilariously fun concept to me i completely blank out on any technical aspect of it. literally the what the hell sure lady meme.) when he’s this close to achieving his nfl dreams and fuck off okay he loves kids he knows everyone knows this but fuck offfff he hems and haws to think of anyone who would he would actually stand and also treat him right for him to want a kid with them (fuck the image of joe in his head offffff).

joemarr, specifically alpha!joe/omega!ja'marr

from college!! where they're still trying to settle into their roles the way they're comfortable with and fighting stereotypes and class expectations!! and also the year where they're all starting to be unapologetically slutty!! and joe being their star qb high alpha or some shit and ja'mar being the new freshie to sopho omega wr

ja'marr chock full of insecurities and hang ups over not being the 'ideal omega' even when he's projecting and shouting clearly that he doesn't give a shit about being the perfect traditional omega in the first place but!! doesn't joe deserve that? joe is such a good alpha that he thought was only possible in fantasy books and movies he watches obsessively when he was a kid (still do but whatever) and getting kind of blinded by this image of joe that he himself built up when joe's anything but perfect ->

he’s awkward, zero smoothness at flirting when he really cares for it, 'flirts' by staring intensely edward-cullen-esque but without the excuse of trying to read your thoughts (well no he’s trying to reach into ja’marrs head and pick him apart to get to know him better in a ‘date me’ aspect instead of just asking like a normal person but anyway), he likes spongebob and has nerdy ass interests that amuses and endears himself to ja’marr to no end, he can be pissy and foul mouthed and sure he can be such a gentleman but he’s also completely down and dirty matches all the alpha crude humor that ja’marr himself delights on, that cocky alpha full-of-himself schtick that joe is absolutely not an exception to, etc etc so basically the thing isn’t that joe is the perfect alpha, he’s the perfect alpha for ja’marr. but ja’marr doesn’t see this at first! and he doesn’t see himself as anything of worth to joe other than a wide receiver and an epically close friend! can’t even begin to think of a future involving anything of requited love with him. all because of his own head.

but the thing is: closet romantic soft-hearted ja’marr growing up loving to watch disney (think lion king lol. 'can't you feel the love tonight' starts playing and he's gone.) and cute one dimensional hallmark alpha/omega movies where the alpha is of a certain sort. but like hell ja’marr can stand a perfect gentleman who treats him like a single minded worshipper, like he's made of glass to put on a pedestal displayed and never to be touched. he needs someone who matches him fire for fire, relentless and shamelessly ambitious, doesn't flinch away from his sharp angles or make him into something he's not, and not just disgustingly bland like those in hallmark movies bland you know?? which is one of the reasons why he’s so reluctant of being with an alpha!! he doesn’t want to be treated that way. no alpha would want someone who doesn’t want to be treated that way. so he backs off completely from alphas no matter the type and finds delight in betas and omegas who are like him! having fun!! breaking norms!!

but then he meets joe and gets to know him past his initial impression of the previous points and oh no holy shit oh noooo, he sees nothing of this alpha sort he's steered clear of in joe!! he's nothing like the basic romcoms on the perfect alphas he grew up loving and idealizing and then growing to feel revolted of!! and that just fucks him up even more because damn. there’s no way that alpha is for him.

and then there's joe who looks like the perfect alpha and tries his absolute best to be the perfect gentleman except he's also such a jock and a frat boy extraordinaire, mixing in his intense chip-on-his-shoulder redshirt qb with a whole new team, his intense focus on winning a cup and proving himself, and also. absolute distraction in the form of one omega wide receiver who's so fucking loud and distractingly pretty and keeps smiling at him like that and sorry okay for staring dead eyed at you you get freaked and defensive but come. on. really? like he's struggling here and he's not saying its ja'marr's fault he's literally just breathing but fuck does joe really not come across as anyone he'd consider as someone to spend the rest of his life with?? as a partner. as a bonded pair.

joe, who doesn’t give a shit what his partner's designation is, he knows what he likes he knows what he wants but right now he’s just trying to focus on this sport he's given his all in. sure he's all down for any love coming his way he's not really planning on actively searching for it but. well. and wow okay he’s all for that ofc but he didn’t think that it would come in the form of his newest teammate who’s kind of fucked up over the whole alpha thing huh okay.

'he knows what he likes what he wants' and ja'marr? ticks every fucking box. -> he sees ja'marr being so free with who he is (later learning the hidden bits! the insecurities! the vulnerable parts ja'marr finally unclenches to let him see and joe's just on his knees for him at that point no way or want to turn back), unapologetically fiery and unbending, but also so so sweet. who enthusiastically busses the cheeks of all the little siblings who hang around the training field. who’s picky with his affections on certain things but completely incapable of not fretting over anyone with a hurt knee or shoulder or skinned elbows. who once yelled at him from across the field to quit throwing it so short the fuck is wrong with him use your fucking biceps right before running leaping laughing to him yelling good shit jay-beeeee the next minute after he catches an absolute beautiful deep ball and brings it home during a walkthrough of a new scheme. literally smitten is what I'm saying.

and on the other side ja'marr is all acting haughty and bristly at joe over his own insecurities 😔 absolutely unknowing how taken joe is with him in spite of all his own hang ups over not being 'an accommodating omega' while somewhat emotionally stunted joe of the 'incapable of showing his true feelings so he's just staring' variety struggles to court him through his own hang ups of not being a good enough alpha over ja'marr's loud exclamations of 'never fucking an alpha' and the looming and inescapable Insane Ambition and self-given sword of damocles over his head of playing perfectly and winning a natty (the ambition which ja'marr matched beat for beat btw. and that's just soooo sooo compelling to joe it kills him and fires him up inside when he sees ja'marr's eyes get as piercing as his when he runs routes and slams away dbs).

basically BOTH dumbly thinking the other is unattainable because of their own issues and they won't fucking TALK about it ugh.

also: the idea of going through their heats/ruts with the other no strings attached (but also not no strings attached bc they really do want to be attached in literally every way possible so the thought of them offering it in a casual 'just scratching an itch' thing would possibly end their life as they know it) is always in their minds but they've never once brought this up with the other because for the ACTUAL important real life shit they've never been good at communicating with each other like at all. why take the risk. why try to break their own hearts even worse than they already are doing.

BUT they're soooooo close to the point of having each other's ruts/heats on each of their calendar 🤗 casually mentioning ‘fuck my pelvis is killing me.’ ‘its the 24th isn’t it? your heats near. i got a heating pack in my locker. wait it's charged just let me grab it for you.’ and ‘im taking the week off.’ ‘oh your rut right? ready holed up good?’ ‘yeah just by myself again.’

like there’s services for heat/rut partners right. that they've recommended to each other 😭 and while it helped with the physical and animalistic levels of their heats/ruts it doesn’t completely help at all and makes it worse when it's all over. it feels wrong because the alpha/omega part of their brain knows exactly what it wants but their dumbassery is stopping them from claiming what’s theirs or some shit idk.

lending each other their used jerseys/undershirts/tees to help through the other's ruts/heats for comfort 😀 a concerning collection of it in their homes and given back with literally no mention of it because they’re STUPID okay they’re stupid men with stupid hang ups pulling themselves back from being with each other.

ALSO OKAY SO one of my favoriteeeee things about omegaverse is the scentssssssss ARGHHH love that shit to death. i have no idea what type of cologne they wear can't think of making anything up rn :(( i think ja'marr said his favorite scent was mahogany no?? non traditional omega scent etc etc. just thinking of ja’marr learning film study with joe from their little ipad and tucking closer together to see the little people in the screen better only to be hit with each other’s scent and unconsciously breathing in deep before freezing bc wait no is that weird except nobody notices the other doing the same thing bc they’re stupid.

feel free to decide how they get together lmao probably on accident tbh

i wanted to add a bit of omegas!bayou trio :)

right. so. imagine omega!bayou trio breaking records left and right (and also breaking HEARTS left and right) where people have been absolutely belittling them bc of their omega status and that burns them except they're so fucking GOOD so they spit right back at all these entitled pricks calling them all kinds of stupid shit.

joeeee beautiful perfect princess joe with the snaggletooth and chubby cheeks who's slowly building into his joe ice persona and bulldozing through with his cocky exterior! people think he's the perfect southern belle of an omega until clips of his qb training comes out and they reel back because he's literally throwing down with the o-line d-line guys, all his shit talk, all his stomping around, all his scrambling forcefully through defenses, etc etc (lsu purposefully releasing this to get the pushier traditional 'fans' to back the fuck up from him).

justin and ja'marr peacocking to the cameras (shamelessly when theyre together, but weirdly shy as hell when theyre alone. people eat this shit uppppp). (more on this below)

the rest of the oline and roster being overly protective of their trio of star omegas (not to say that there arent omegas in the o or d line!! oh my god imagineeeeee my brains melting BUT like. hierarchically. those three the big dogs. if i were more knowledgeable of the rest of their roster like terrace or clyde or pq or delpit i would totally add shit but :( idk them :(()

if it were alpha!joe with omegas!jjmarr!!!

everyone and their thrice removed foreign cousins burning in jealousy over any part of the trio 😭

how dare these two omegas bag THE hottest cfb quarterback alpha currently. what the fuck is this perfect fucker of an alpha who's all look at me i have luscious flowing hair and gorgeous blue eyes and perfect winning record and insane football iq doing with not just one but TWO gorgeous talented omegas?? fuck right offfff

no they aren't together really BUT jjmarr laughingly jokingly playing into the images the media and public force upon them because they know joe and they trust him so this piece of casual close comfort between these three that people seethe over jealously is literally because joe has proven to them that he isn't like any other pea size dick brained alphas.

joe backing them up when these two are acting up (like a little wear whatever you want babe i can fight thing you know) and they let him 'fight for their virtue' or some shit bc they love him and literally him and a select few of their lsu teammates are the only ones who can even begin to act like 'traditional alpha protectors' for them because they know they aren't condescending about it!!

pretty perfect omega justin who knows when and what to say the perfect things, flirts outrageously with everyone but also ruthlessly tells pushy alphas to fuck off and then punches their throat when they get uppity. pretty unconventional omega ja’marr who flashes wide smiles with squinty brown eyes and people fall over themselves trying to make him laugh and then stumble back in fear when they get too overly familiar with him etc etc.

(and i know i said they aren’t actually together!! BUT IF THEY WERE GRAH jjmarr tag teaming joe 😔 putting him on his back and fucking him themselves and joe being completely pliant about it 😔😔😔 completely at their mercy on the sheets and happy about it 😔😔😔😔😔 a little insane power trip for ja’marr and jj)

a bit of koc/jj omegaverse too hehe bc how could i not - (tw - mentions of sa)

perfect omega jj whos downright fucking smitten with his alpha coach who's as touchy with him as he is with everyone else so he can't tell if koc actually likes likes him that way or if he's just. like that. justin as flirty as he is and all pretty eyes and pretty smiles and pretty laughs and absolutely blooming like a sunflower right to the direction of a can't-take-his-eyes-away koc.

one random new teammate acquired on waiver or whatever leering too heavily at justin during practice and maybe he's a cornerback literally plastering himself all over justin and grabbing at his ass during walkthroughs and justin just fucking slams his elbow back to his face and breaks his nose and cheekbones and koc is instantly there flinging them away from each other. the rest of the vikings converging over the guy while koc is on justin fretting hands all over him frantic alpha brain protective haze and when justin grabs his hands by the sides of his face staring wide eyed back, their eyes right on each others' the only thing calming both of them down. justin breathily says he's fine. koc then hauls himself back towards the guy and the rest of the players automatically part away for him and boom koc rips him apart and the only one who can calm him is justin ARHGHHHH i wanna write koc/jj so badly 😭😭

in the end justin's getting his elbow tended but he’s dead quiet thinking fuck fuck fuck that just happened and then focusing more on what koc did. he knows what that means. what koc reacting like that means. a teammate (jordan?? i have no idea what the vikings player’s roster and dynamics are like :() comes to sit by him when left to themselves by the medical team. says that that wasn't justin's fault at all obviously but it had to be said, what would happen to the guy (gone forever never to be seen again), that practice is being cut short but the rest of the guys won't leave until they see him physically all right so they're holed up in the locker rooms antsily waiting to see him, and that koc is on the other side of that door unable to leave but also unable to enter the room at all. and then silence. before a cautious ‘about koc’ and justin tells him to shut up he can’t do this he's shaking he can't do this.

struggling to keep their bond (not to be confused as Bond which would be. Scandalous.) exactly as it is but something calls them towards one another like crazyyyy

and there’s more that could be explored!! beta ja’marr with a chip on his shoulder and beta joe screaming fuck you to the rigid norm of alpha or omega quarterbacks (but i fear alpha/omega is sooo it for me so). tee whom i adore to death -> maybe non traditional alpha teeeeee argrhrghhh doting the ever living shit out of omega ja’marr and joe, or omega tee who literally has the entire locker room wrapped around his finger etc etc

#ask #tried looking up 'traditional omega values' to see how ja'marr holds up to it #and then got hit with reality so violently because why the fuck am i looking this shit up #when math numbers and watches showed up i had to take a lap around my room to go down back to reality #im so so sorry parents that this is the daughter you ended up with #my writing #lol #a/b/o au #joemarr #koc/jj #joe burrow #ja'marr chase #justin jefferson #koc #i should tag him with his full name damn #there's this lsu ask for /days/ that's kind of adjacent to their college day thing here but my brains fried sorry ill answer it later :')

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maryangelex · 2 years ago

Text

Never Let Me Go (Pt. 3)

John Price x f! Reader

Part 4

A/N: this is a long one!!! but here's the smut i promised ;) believe me when i say there's plenty to come.

Song is In My Feelings because of course!!!!!

Happy reading <3

Warnings: NSFW like always, smut, a bit dubcon (?), price is a perv and steals panties.

Tomorrow at 8.

Those were the only words occupying your brain ever since they came out of John's mouth. The feeling of his fingers against your temple, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, was still tingling on your skin a whole day later.

You had gone to work the next day thinking of nothing but the upcoming date. Your cousin couldn't be more elated for you, even telling you to get out much earlier than your regular closing time just so you could get ready. You shook your head at the request but did not decline it, knowing that you would need ample time to soothe your nerves and perfect yourself before meeting with John tonight.

During your shift, you didn't expect to see him because of your plans. But he made sure to make a quick appearance at the cafe, and you couldn't complain.

As you wiped down the counter, you caught a glimpse of the man's hulking form through the large windows at the front of the store. Your cheeks were immediately pulled by the smile that grew across your lips. As he walked in, he returned the expression; a kind tight-lipped smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

And although you loved the man's handsome face, your eyes were more fixated on his toned body, an image you had not been graced with since you met him. You knew those sweaters weren't doing him justice. John had athletic wear on, sporting a tight thermal shirt that contoured every bulging muscle on his arms and chest. His hair was dampened by sweat and his cheeks lightly flushed.

You practically drooled at the sight. Something in you told you that he was only here to show off, too. Again, you couldn't complain.

His body pressed against the counter, propped on his elbows for support as he leaned forward to speak to you. It only made his solid biceps bulge even more under his shirt, looking like they'd tear through the fabric if he shifted ever so slightly.

"Mornin', John," you greeted him politely, raking your eyes along his body briefly and subconsciously.

His smile turned into a sly smirk as if knowing the effect he had on you.

"Mornin', love," he said, "thought I'd pay you a quick visit on my run."

"Too eager to wait for tonight?" you quipped, as you took a bottle of water from the cooler behind the counter, handing it over to him.

He accepted with a light 'cheers' as he downed it quickly before saying, "I just can't go on 'bout my day without seein' ya."

You rolled your eyes at him, suppressing your smile from growing wider, but your cheeks betrayed you by staining in pink.

When he finished his water in a final gulp, with a heavy sigh of relief, he tipped the empty vessel at you in gratitude before leaving.

"I'll see you at 8 tonight then, love," he said with certitude. You scoffed, giving him an affirmative nod as you tried to play it cool. In your best efforts to hide the nerves raging within you.

At 5 in the afternoon, your cousin couldn't push you out of the cafe any more adamantly. You kept insisting that you should stay otherwise she'd kill herself managing the closing shift. But of course, she succeeded at pushing you and locking you out, shooing you away and saying "Go put yourself together for the man!"

You raced to your apartment, kicking your shoes off peeling every layer of your outfit off and tossing everything in your hamper, and scampered to the shower to wash yourself as if you were covered in all sorts of grime. You washed your hair, exfoliated, did steps of your skincare you didn't even know you had and coated yourself in body lotion to the point you could have slid through the bars of a jail cell.

Some three hours to go, you stood in front of your closet wrapped in a towel, sorting through every article of clothing you owned with the sound of the hangers scraping across the rack echoing through your empty apartment. You cursed at yourself when nothing was deemed fit for the occasion. If anyone saw you right now and didn't know any better they'd think you were about to meet the king.

John had texted you earlier about the location of your date. You had noticed in the time you two had texted each other that the man misused emojis and had no concept of abbreviations of slang; you found it endearing.

Pub on Wright Street. x

Was marked as read on your phone screen.

You settled for jeans and a top you hadn't taken the tag off, in your best efforts to remain casual, still trying to put up the facade that you weren't as eager as you were to go on a date with John.

Truth be told, you hadn't gone on a date in months. Maybe the whole year, actually. There just weren't any blokes that you wanted to give the time of day. None of them left an impression on you the way John had, with his kind smile and his crystal eyes. He was magnetizing, and the fact that he made it seem like all his attention was reserved for you made you feel like putting some effort on him was worth it.

In your remaining time, you dabbed some makeup on your face and put some finishing touches on yourself. You felt strange when you looked at your reflection like a different person was looking back at you. But it was in the best way possible; this person was someone more confident and sure of herself. You only hoped John saw the same in you at your date. You hoped this was worth the effort.

Though the pub was relatively close, you called yourself a cab to preserve your look, not wanting to show up sweaty and disheveled to your date. By the time you made it, it was still 20 minutes till 8, and the sight of John already being there brought an immense sense of relief. Like a true gentleman, he had arrived much earlier than you had agreed. Maybe he was as nervous as you were and needed time to collect himself. But someone as suave as him, who stood with a confident posture, most likely did not feel an ounce of worry, you thought.

He opened the door of the cab for you, stretching out a hand to help you step out. He took your hand in his, and you felt the roughness of his palm. A calloused hand held your much silkier one with a supportive grip as you stepped out of the cab and scanned your eyes over him.

God, he's stunning, you thought. The smell of his cologne wafted into your nostrils, a teakwood mahogany scent mixed with the smokey smell of a cigar. It was intoxicating, making your chest burn like a bonfire. He was dressed quite handsomely, like always, too. Nothing fancy, but the fact that it was him wearing the clothes made him automatically attractive.

You felt his gaze on you as well, except he was much more shameless than you when it came to his observations.

"Fuckin' hell, love, you look gorgeous," he crooned. You gave him an embarrassed look and lightly swatted at his arm, which still hadn't let go of your hand. He chuckled lightly at the effect his words had on you.

"You don't look too bad y'self, John," your voice was almost a whisper, and he gave you a flattered smile and a squeeze of your hand.

He escorted you inside the pub, a booth for the two of you had even been arranged. To call the place a pub was underselling it. It was more like a newly opened restaurant with the inspiration being a pub. You'd be lying if you said you weren't impressed, and maybe even a little bit embarrassed to think John would pick a place any less grand than this for your date.

"This is a really nice place, I feel underdressed," you confessed as you looked around at the wooden details and old-fashioned decor.

John scoffed at your statement, "You couldn't be more perfect, doll." He hadn't taken your eyes off you as he sat next to you in the booth, his knee lightly bumping against yours. The close proximity to his grandiose presence made you feel claustrophobic like you were witness to a greater power next to you. The warmth of his body was impossible to close, and his much larger frame made you feel shielded from the world around you.

John ordered for the two of you. Normally this was a turn-off for you, to have a man dictate what you should eat. But the fact that it was him and that you sensed no ulterior motive of disrespect on his part, made it almost attractive, like it was a display of his leadership.

And you were glad he was the one to order when the food and drinks came around. He confessed he came to the pub often because he wasn't the best cook; the most he could make himself was a decent breakfast but was clueless when it came to proper meals.

"I'll come around here for dinner and to your shop for the sweets," he proposed.

"Or you can come by mine and save some money," you blurted out with a sense of confidence you didn't know you had. The alcohol of the drinks he ordered was certainly taking effect on you.

John smirked at your response, a hint of pink dusted his bearded cheeks, "I'll take your offer then, love." His voice was sultry as he took a sip of his bourbon, his eyes not straying from you through a half-lidded gaze.

The two of you cleared the plates of food between conversations. The alcohol made the flow of your banter easier and less reserved. Your laughs went from timid chuckles to your more natural, louder guffaws. It made John beam whenever he made you laugh, watching you bear your true, uncensored self to him bit by bit.

When the waiter took the plates away, you were only left with your third round of drinks, maybe fourth, actually; you'd lost count. Your ears and cheeks were flushed red and your mind was woozy. John was hardly fazed in comparison, now reclined back against the seat with a long, beefy arm outstretched behind you on the booth, almost as if claiming you to the public. It made you feel smaller than you were compared to him.

He brought his refilled glass of bourbon to his lips, his blue eyes rested on you, pupils masking his irises like a waning crescent moon. Could be the dim lights, you thought, or something else. You didn't want to assume, but you wouldn't be upset if it was the latter. You'd be kidding yourself to think you weren't starting to get hot and bothered from the mix of liquor and the fact that the man you were crushing on was mere inches away from you.

There was a beat of silence for a moment between the two of you. John's stare was burning your skin like a laser, and you avoided his eyes in fear you'd be turned to stone from looking at him. You minded your drink until he spoke up.

"I've got a confession to make, love," he sighed heavily, glugging the contents of his cup before continuing, "don't want us startin' off without any secrecy."

Your eyes now snapped up to his face, giving him a puzzled look.

Fuck, so he is married, your mind immediately jumped to conclusion. Of course, he was married, this is just your luck! And who wouldn't want to marry a man this fit? His poor wife--

"Please don't tell me you're married!" you blurted out impulsively. John's eyes widened and he took a moment before snorting and erupting into a boisterous laugh. The man was practically in tears as he rubbed a knuckle across his eye, deescalating from his bout of laughter.

"No, love, no need to worry 'bout that," he clarified. He turned to look at you again, adoration in his eyes, as if you making him laugh was carving even more space for you in his heart.

"Right, erm, sorry," you apologized in embarrassment but couldn't help but chuckle a bit with him, a bit of relief washing over you.

"Truth is, erm, the day we met I wasn't really lost in your bookstore," he started as he rubbed a hand behind his neck, "I knew exactly what I was lookin' for, it gets borin' on leave 'n I had a good book in mind..."

Your face was still puzzled as you watched him get flustered.

"I know how awfully corny this sounds but, I saw you behind the counter 'n thought 'Fuck I've gotta find a way to talk to this pretty thing', so I made m'self look like an idiot so I could talk to ya."

You paused for a second, taking note of multiple things in his confession. One, he thought you were pretty from the get-go. Two, he was itching to talk to you. And three, he made the effort, as silly as it was, to approach you. This big ol' bloke was just a big softie.

His face contorted into a concerned expression at your silence, his body shifting and tensing. "I know it sounds odd but-- I mean--" he stammered, interrupted by the sound of your laughter.

"Oh, John," was all you could manage shaking your head in disbelief at his confession. His body relaxed and the smile returned to his pink face. Suddenly, you felt no sense of nervousness around him, given that he was pining just as much as you all this time, feigning as much nonchalance as you had been (more successfully, though).

Once your laughter toned down you mindlessly placed a comforting hand on his thigh. The solid muscle beneath your touch flexed, the feeling shooting straight to the space between your legs. But you peered up at him with glistening eyes, giving him an affectionate look.

His eyes locked with yours and he brought a hand up to your cheek, giving the fat there a light scolding pinch, "Can't believe you're laughin' when 'm bein' vulnerable."

You giggled, "How could I not!" you retorted. The two of you shared another moment of pleasant silence as you stared at each other, feeling like you had known the man in front of you for decades. Like you were two old lovers on their nth date tonight.

"Y'wanna get out of here, doll?" he cooed, and your response was a nod and a hum.

John paid for the two of you, of course, despite your adamant protesting. His excuse was that you had given him too many teas, coffees, and sweets on the house, and scolded that that was no way to run a business.

When the two of you exited the pub, you stood facing him at the front of the place. He had draped your jacket over your shoulders and was adjusting the front to keep you cozy from the chilly wind. You felt woozy on your feet but nothing you couldn't handle. John's radiated body heat mixed with your jacket and the alcohol in your system was keeping you warm.

Once he was satisfied with how he placed your jacket on you, he moved his hand up to your face. Again, he tucked a stay piece of your hair back into your eat, but this time he brushed the knuckle of his index finger over your cheekbone. Then it trailed to under your chin. You peered up at him with your doe eyes and you were greeted with those shadowy eyes. There was something else in them, though, something beyond kindness, with more intensity, maybe even desire.

It made you feel a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, the heat radiated between your legs as well. And you wanted John to help you put out that fire.

The man whispered, "Let me take ya home, dove." And you gave him an approving nod. He took your hand in yours again, tangling your fingers together as he took you back to your flat.

The two of you stood outside the front door. John's body was towering close to yours and he looked down at you with the lustful glint in his eyes. Your cheeks burned and your body ached for him to make a move, any move. You just wanted to feel his touch once again. Your hands twitched at your sides.

His hand went up to your hair again, twirling a strand between his fingers this time. Then it reached up to pet your hair on the side of your head. It found its way back to your cheek, brushing his knuckles against the soft, flustered skin, before cupping your face in one hand. You leaned against his touch. His other hand joined at cupping the other side of your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. You could feel his hot breath near your face.

"May I?" he whispered, his voice husky and seductive yet gentle and considerate. You nodded in his hands and let out the softest 'of course,' granting him permission.

John didn't hesitate the second you gave him your approval and leaned in to plant a kiss on your lips. It was gentle but didn't lack an ounce of desire. He pulled back for a moment to savor the first taste of your lips. Your hands were shyly placed on his waist, feeling the tenderness of his body as they scaled up to his back.

You rose up on the tip of your toes to meet his lips as he leaned back in to kiss you a second time. Your gesture showed him you were just as eager, that you had just as much desire to kiss him again and again. It was more passionate this time, less reserved. His lips were buttery soft and you melted in the taste of him, in the feeling of his mouth on yours. You felt bold enough to let your tongue pry between his lips and he welcomed it with his own.

You emitted a soft hum within the kiss. One of John's hands snaked around your waist, pulling you flush to his body. He was a furnace, the feeling of his body slotted against yours burnt you like hot coals. Your hands draped over his shoulders, melding your body with his as he kissed you deeply.

You pulled away from the kiss momentarily, only to catch your breath. John held your face with one hand and kept you close. The tip of his narrow nose brushed against yours. His eyes held yours as his thumb rubbed your cheek once more.

You anticipated him to ask to come inside your flat. Well, you were praying he'd ask you if he could come inside. The heat between your legs was simmering, the wetness was physically palpable and you ached for him, partially blaming the alcohol for your body's intense reaction.

"I'll see you tomorrow, love," John purred, planting a goodbye kiss on your other cheek. It took a moment for you to catch on when he stepped back from you and you felt the cold from his absence. Your mind was dumbfounded, but you nodded hesitantly before turning slightly to unlock your door. John flashed you one of his kind smiles before he went on his way back to his apartment. You returned it out of politeness, to not make it obvious how confused you were.

When you entered your flat and closed to door, you leaned your back against it and let out a heavy sigh. You felt like a knobhead for thinking someone like John would just fuck you on the first date. He wasn't just some bloke that had a one-night stand and never called you back, not what you were used to, and you kicked yourself for even remotely thinking John would do the same. He actually wanted to take his time with you and put effort into you. You rubbed your hand over your face in frustration and let out a groan.

But quickly you decided to look on the bright side, though, bringing your fingers to your kiss-swollen lips as you savored the lingering taste of John, and the memory of mere minutes ago when he kissed you flooding back into your mind and making you squeal.

That night you fell asleep giddy like a schoolgirl at the thought of seeing him again tomorrow.

It was very early in the morning when you came into the cafe. The door of the cafe was unlocked but the sign was still flipped on 'Closed' so no customers would come in as you got the shop ready. You had already gotten everything behind the counter arranged; pastries set out, espresso machine cleaned, counter wiped. So you moved on to the shelves to do some light dusting over the books, arranging a few of them that had been misplaced.

You heard the ringing of the bell, letting you know someone had just come in. You knew it wasn't your cousin because she had asked you to take over for the day since she went on a girl's trip, so you assumed it was a customer and politely raised your voice to say, "Sorry, we're still closed!". You peeked over to the door to see if you were correct to assume it was a confused patron only to find John walking past the entrance. He approached you with an apologetic smile.

" 'S just me, love, sorry for showin' up so early," he said, standing in close proximity to you now between the bookshelves. You smiled at him with a faint blush; it was hard not to see him differently after last night.

"No worries, John," you said, but your smile faded as concern crept on you, wondering what he was doing here. He seemed uneasy, fidgeting hands finding comfort in the pockets of his jacket. "Something the matter?" you asked softly.

" 'Bout last night, doll," he started. Your mind was racing again, worrying that he regretted kissing you, that he felt he made a mistake in kissing you or even asking you out or pursuing you to begin with. You were about to tell him it was alright, that you could pretend nothing happened, that you'd forget about it and return to normal.

"I shoulda gone inside with ya," he sighed. Now you were even more confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I spent all night kickin' m'self for not...askin' you to let me come into your flat." His hands came out of his pockets as he stepped closer to you, his body inching against yours the same way he did last night. You froze looking up at him, taking a couple of steps back as he was almost pressing his tall body against yours. You were now trapped between his large figure and the bookshelf behind you. John's hands found their way to your waist and you felt a ragged breath against your face, the smell of cigars flowing into your nose. You shakily placed your own hands on his strong forearms. The proximity of his body against yours pooled arousal in your underwear.

"J-John, I don't--" you stammered, confusion still persistent in your mind. He wanted to come inside with you, the same way you did?

"I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you, dove," he purred, lips brushing against your own, the hairs of his mustache tickling your upper lip. "I know y'wanted me to come inside with you, I saw it in your pretty face... s'that right?"

You nodded more hastily than you intended; your heart was beating out of your chest as your breath hitched. Fuck, did you want him, did you spend the rest of the night thinking of him, of the things he could have done to you if he had come inside. Your hands stroked up his arms and up to rest on his shoulders, gripping and lightly tugging the fabric of his jacket, as if beginning him to kiss you again in the seclusion of the bookshelves.

He complied and gave you a deep all-consuming kiss that you drowned in like a flood. John pulled away but kept his nose against yours and whispered into your lips, "Let me make it up to you, so you can forgive me, yeah?"

Your eyes widened as you watched the man kneel in front of you. His palms massaged the sides of your body, stroking the tender flesh of your outer thighs. He peered up at you with pleading, dark eyes, like a man begging for God's forgiveness on a church pew. You felt his burning touch on your skin, the sensation making your core flutter and dampen even more.

"J-John, what are you--" you gasped when you felt the wetness of his lips over your thighs as he peppered kisses over the soft flesh. You didn't know what to do with your hands (or yourself, for that matter) so you settled them over his broad shoulders, unsure if you should push him away or if you wanted to pull him closer to let him do whatever it is he wanted to do.

" 'M just apologizin', pretty girl," he cooed against your thigh. His hands scaled up your thighs, slithering under your mini skirt, grabbing the waistband of your knickers and dragging them down painfully slow, making sure to graze his knuckles against your skin. You watched his movements and he watched your flustered expressions react to every one of his actions.

When your knickers reached your ankles he helped you delicately step out of them, and he pervertedly pocketed the garment with a light smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't worry, I'll give 'em back to you next time, sweetheart." was all he said in that regard. Your pussy twitched at the gesture, making you bite your lip coyly as a small moan escaped you.

John folded the hem of your skirt up lightly as he kissed the inside of your thighs, teasingly close to your sopping sex. He gave the plump flesh light nips to taunt you further, loving the sounds that came out of you every time he did so. His rough hands kneaded at the flesh of your thighs before hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, making your bare cunt more exposed for him, granting him access.

You gasped when he buried his face between your legs, your skirt masking the rest of his face except for those clear blue eyes that feigned innocence as they peered up at you. His lips kissed your sex tenderly, the same way they had kissed your mouth just moments ago. You let out a low moan at the sensation, his facial hair brushing over your vulva made you shiver. Another tender kiss was planted against your slit, followed by another, and another.

"John," you begged, desperation surging in you. And who was he to deny you anything? So to please the pretty girl's request, his flattened tongue slowly lapped at your lips. You threw your head back, a slow moan emanating from your throat, and your fists clenching on the fabric on his shoulders.

"Fuckk, your pretty moans, baby," his voice was muffled. Another slow swipe of his hot tongue, this time the tip of his tongue was pointed and it slid between your folds, caressing your pleading clitoris. It made you jump lightly, and it only prompted him to lick over the sensitive bud even more.

Now the man hungrily licked your pussy, paying utmost attention to your swollen clit. His hands firmly held your thighs as he smothered himself with your cunt. The pace of his tongue quickened, and not an inch of your pussy was left untouched by his mouth.

You were made a mess of indecent moans as John devoured you, your hips lightly rutting against his face. You mentally thanked the security camera guy for not showing up to fix them, and you prayed that everyone passing by would read the 'Closed' sign and that the bookshelves shielded any outsider from the sinful act going on between you and John.

John alternated between piercing his tongue into the entrance of your pussy and suckling on your desperate clit. His eyes closed as he lost himself in your pussy, humming in pleasure as he savored your taste and drank in your moans. His hands snaked up your torso to knead at the tender flesh of your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your pointed nipples through the fabric of your shirt.

"Perfect fuckin' pussy, baby...so fuckin' sweet," he said, not removing his mouth from you. You whined, one of your hands coming to grip at the hair on the crown of his head, pressing him further against your cunt which made him moan and go absolutely mad. He grabbed the underside of your thighs and draped both of them over his shoulders; the only things supporting your body were John's strong arms and the shelf behind you. Your other hand gripped the shelf behind you to find some leverage.

John was drunk on your juices, fervently eating you out. One of his hands snaked under you to press two thick digits against your entrance. His lips sucked mercilessly at your clit as he pumped your pussy with his fingers now. You practically screamed his name when you felt the intrusion.

"Love hearin' you say my name like that, sweetheart," he slurred, his fingers curling within your walls and pressing against that spongey spot inside of you that made you roll your eyes to the back of your head. You were so fucking close and John knew it.

"Be good 'n cum for me, darlin', he moaned, becoming more and more desperate to feel you clench around his fingers, to feel your juices coat his face.

And you did just that. With a few more pumps of his fingers and more laps of his tongue on your pussy, you were sent over the edge. You let out a final choked-out moan as your body convulsed against the shelf. Your thighs tightened and quaked around John's head the same way your walls clenched tightly around his fingers.

He hummed against your sex, slowing down as he let you ride your orgasm on his face and fingers; your slick dripping down your thighs and onto his face. Those ocean eyes lovingly watched your face contort as you reached your high. But you were too lost in euphoria to even notice; your body was almost going limp in John's hold and all you felt was overwhelming pleasure crashing over you.

You cursed breathlessly, trying to gather yourself. As you slowly came to, you could hear John's soft praises against your thigh, "Did so good f'me, love... my sweet girl." He planted tender, innocent kisses against your flesh as he praised you. He delicately helped you stand up on your own. He rose up to his full height and held you, offering you support on your shaky legs.

"Alright, darlin'?" he said, to which you nodded your head and managed to find your bearings. John chuckled at the sight of your helpless self. Something sadistic in him enjoying watching you like this, depending on him, basically.

You looked up at him, your pupils were still blown and your face was hot. That damned kind smile of his was plastered on his face, but there was a hint of malice hiding behind it. Smug bastard, you thought. You couldn't find any words to say to him, realizing what you just let this man do to you in the middle of your store.

"All's forgiven, then, love?" he had the nerve to say, smoothing the flyaways on your hair and brushing his knuckles over your cheek tenderly. You nodded sheepishly. You didn't even know what you were really forgiving him for, you were never upset with him to begin with, but with the indulgent pleasure he had just given you, you didn't mind forgiving him more often.

You averted his gaze, opting to look at your feet in embarrassment. And it was then that you caught a glimpse of the tightness in his pants. His hardened member peered back at you in the confines of his jeans. You looked up at him, cheeks flushed, silently asking him if he needed you to take care of him in return when your hand reached to palm him. He hummed, but his hand engulfed yours and brought it to his lips, giving them a soft kiss, beard still damp with your juices.

"Leave that f'next time, pretty," he chuckled. Next time, you thought, if it was anything like this then you couldn't wait for next time. You were already pining for more of John after having just finished all over his face.

You moved your hand and placed it on his cheek wordlessly; he leaned into your touch as he looked at you lovingly.

"Can I kiss you again, John?" you stammered shyly, your tone hushed.

The man chuckled, "Of course you can," leaning in to crash his lips on yours. You tasted yourself in his mouth, smelled yourself soaked into his beard. The kiss was soft but prolonged as if he was getting ready to say bye once again.

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment. You completely forgot where you were and that you had a shift to start, but you didn't mind forgetting if it involved staying with John like this the rest of the day. Except John had to snap you out of your fantasy when he whispered to you that he had to go. You nodded your head, the most you could fathom to respond with lately.

The man gave you another chaste kiss on your lips, then a peck on your nose, and a last one on your forehead before he announced his departure and went on his way out the door.

You stood there recalling what just happened, burying your beet-red face into your hands as you squealed. The absence of your panties became evident all of a sudden as well and it only increased your ever-growing embarrassment. You decided no one was going to die over the shop being closed for the day as you gathered your things and dashed out the door, locking up before leaving, of course. No way you'd work comando with just a skirt, you thought, and no way you'd work after all that just happened in the very business you ran.

On your way back to your apartment you smiled to yourself, biting your lip as you thought about John. You thought about how no man in your life had ever done something like that, much less made you feel that good.

John was bringing out a side of you that you didn't know existed.

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estellan0vella · 3 months ago

Text

Love In Print│Bang Chan

Chapter Twenty Five: A Force Of Nature SS: 3 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 1.8K Content Warnings: none?

Previous Next Masterlist

Ayame stands outside the meeting room, gripping her laptop like it's a shield against her nerves. Her black blouse is meticulously pressed, tucked into high-waisted red cigarette trousers that scream power, while her black stilettos make sharp, decisive clicks against the floor whenever she shifts her weight.

Her hair is styled to perfection, a balance of professional and effortless waves cascading over her shoulders. Outwardly, she looks composed and confident; inside, she's a swirling mess of anxiety.

Minho stands directly in front of her, his hands gripping her shoulders with an intensity that borders on comedic. His tone is low but firm, the perfect blend of pep talk and threat. "You're going to walk in there, and you're going to fucking kill it, Ayame. Got it? You're smarter, sharper, and hotter than anyone in that room."

"Definitely hotter," Jisung chimes in, standing next to Minho and nodding so enthusiastically his head looks like it might fall off. "Like, dangerously hot. I'd hire you just to stare at you. Not that they should do that, because that's wildly inappropriate, but you get what I mean."

Ayame lets out a soft laugh despite herself. "Thanks, oppa."

Hyunjin, leaning dramatically against the wall like he's posing for a Gucci campaign, sighs with a hand over his chest. "I still say we should've gotten matching shirts. Imagine it: bold, white letters. Team Ayame. Chic, supportive, iconic."

Seungmin doesn't even look up from his phone. "Because that's exactly what she needs. A group of idiots parading into the office like we're at a fucking pep rally. Genius idea, Hyunjin."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes so hard Ayame's half-convinced they're about to fall out of his head. "It's called morale-boosting, Seungmin. Look it up sometime."

"You're boosting my headache, not her morale," Seungmin deadpans, sliding his phone into his pocket. "Ayame, can you just go in there, prove you're better than everyone, and win this already? I have dinner reservations, and I hate being late."

Ayame chuckles, the chaotic banter easing some of the tension in her chest. "You're all fucking ridiculous."

Minho ignores them both, squeezing her shoulders slightly tighter, his voice lowering like he's about to deliver a war speech. "Listen to me, Maknae. You've worked for this. You deserve this. You've got the brains, the looks, and the balls. That room is yours. You fucking own it. Got it?"

Ayame exhales sharply and nods, determination flickering in her eyes. "Got it, oppa."

Minho winks. "That's my girl."

Jisung gasps dramatically. "Oh my god, are we doing the 'break a leg' thing? Do I get to say it? Please let me say it."

Hyunjin cuts in before anyone can answer, his tone bored but amused. "No, you don't get to say it. You'll jinx her."

"Fine," Jisung mutters, pouting. "Then I'll just say... uh... don't trip in your heels?"

Ayame snorts, the laughter bubbling out of her before she can stop it. She straightens her blouse, adjusting her stance as her friends look on, a chaotic and oddly comforting collection of support. "You guys are a mess."

"And you love us," Minho says confidently, stepping back to give her space. "Now go. Make them eat their fucking words."

With one last steadying breath, Ayame squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and strides into the meeting room, her heels echoing with the kind of confidence she's willing herself to feel. Behind her, she hears Hyunjin murmur, "She's so fucking badass."

Seungmin snorts. "She's badass because she doesn't listen to you."

Minho claps once, grinning. "Either way, she's about to make history. Let's celebrate later. Drinks on me."

Jisung grins. "You're paying? Best day ever."

Ayame sets her laptop on the sleek meeting room table, her fingers steady as she connects it to the large TV mounted on the wall. She adjusts the cables, her mind laser-focused, though her pulse is racing beneath her composed exterior. Her red cigarette trousers catch the eye of one of the board members, Mr. Yoon, who raises an impressed eyebrow at her sharp, polished look.

She turns to face the three board members, Mr. Yoon, Mr. Park, and Ms. Seo, and offers a confident, professional smile. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today. I know your schedules are packed, so I'll get straight to the point."

Ayame clicks the remote, and the TV screen comes to life, displaying the opening lines of Lee Aera's latest novel. The words are styled in a clean, dynamic font, paired with a striking visual of a digital book interface. Ms. Seo leans forward slightly, her interest clear.

"What you're about to see is more than just a book," Ayame begins, her voice steady and clear. "It's the foundation for a new kind of reader experience. Imagine a platform where the lines between author and audience blur. Where stories evolve in real time, shaped by the people who consume them."

Ms. Seo tilts her head, intrigued. Mr. Park folds his arms, his expression skeptical but curious. "And how exactly does that work?" he asks, his tone a little clipped.

Ayame clicks to the next slide, revealing a sleek flowchart of the user experience. She steps closer to the screen, gesturing with the remote. "Here's the vision. Readers purchase serialized chapters digitally, think of it as the Netflix model, but for books. After each chapter, they're invited to join an online community where they can discuss what they've read with other readers. But here's the kicker, the author joins in, too."

Mr. Yoon leans back in his chair, his eyebrows arching in surprise. "The author? Participating with the readers?"

Ayame nods, her smile widening. "Exactly. The writer takes real-time feedback and incorporates it into the next chapter. It's serialized storytelling, reimagined for the modern digital landscape. Think Charles Dickens but with Wi-Fi."

A small smile tugs at Ms. Seo's lips. "That's... ambitious," she says, her tone tinged with approval. "And risky."

Ayame doesn't miss a beat. "Risky? Sure. But isn't innovation always risky? Readers are craving more immersive, personalized experiences. This isn't just another publishing gimmick, it's the future."

Mr. Park leans forward, his fingers steepled. "And the budget? These kinds of platforms aren't cheap to build or maintain."

Ayame clicks to another slide, which displays a detailed cost breakdown. "If you turn to section two of the document in front of you," she says, gesturing to the neatly bound proposals on the table, "you'll see a comprehensive budget. We've accounted for everything. Development, marketing, community management, and server costs. Most importantly, the platform is built for scalability. As user demand grows, so does our capacity."

Mr. Yoon scans the document in front of him, nodding slowly. "The numbers seem solid."

"And the projected returns?" Ms. Seo asks, her pen poised above her notepad.

Ayame clicks to another slide, which displays a graph illustrating projected growth over five years. "With the current growth of the audiobook and e-book markets, this platform positions us perfectly to capitalize on those trends. By year three, we're looking at a 200% ROI. By year five, it doubles again."

The room falls quiet as the board members digest her words. Ayame doesn't falter, standing tall and meeting each of their gazes with unwavering confidence. She clicks to her final slide, which displays the words Reader Evolution Starts Here over an image of an open book.

"In conclusion," Ayame says, her voice ringing with conviction, "this platform isn't just a new way to consume stories. It's a revolution. It bridges the gap between creator and consumer in a way that no other medium can. With your approval, we can turn this vision into a reality."

She bows deeply, her hair brushing her shoulders. "Thank you for your time and consideration."

The room stays silent for a beat, then the board members exchange brief, unreadable glances. Ms. Seo is the first to nod, followed by Mr. Yoon and Mr. Park.

"Thank you, Ms. Lim," Ms. Seo says with a small smile. "We'll be in touch soon."

Ayame gathers her laptop, keeping her composure as she packs up. Her heels click against the polished floor as she walks out of the room, her head held high. Once the door closes behind her, she exhales sharply, the adrenaline flooding her system finally subsiding.

Ayame walks into Nari's office, the adrenaline still humming under her skin from the presentation. Nari, perched casually on the edge of her desk, looks up from her phone and smiles warmly, a tissue-paper-wrapped package sitting next to her. The cosy office smells faintly of jasmine tea, Nari's signature.

"Well?" Nari asks, her voice carrying a perfect blend of calm and curiosity. "How'd it go?"

Ayame collapses into the chair opposite her, crossing her legs and letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "They grilled me on the numbers like I was trying to justify world hunger, but I nailed it."

Nari beams, sliding the package across the desk toward Ayame. "I knew you would. Here, I got you something."

Ayame raises a brow as she picks it up, the tissue paper crinkling under her fingers. "You got me something? Is it tequila? Because I could use tequila."

"Better," Nari says with a smirk. "Open it."

Ayame tears into the wrapping and freezes, staring at the worn but pristine original copy of Pride and Prejudice. Her eyes widen, and her mouth falls open slightly. "Holy shit, Nari. This is- This is insane. Where the hell did you find this?"

Nari shrugs, clearly pleased with herself. "A little bookstore on the corner of Insanity and Fuck Your Budget. I thought it might inspire you."

Ayame laughs, running her fingers reverently over the embossed title on the cover. "Inspire me? Nari, you just handed me the Holy Grail of feminist sass. I'm about to be unstoppable."

"You were unstoppable before," Nari points out, crossing her arms. "Darcy's just a little nudge."

Ayame snorts, still staring at the book like it might evaporate if she blinks. "You know, I've always thought Darcy was overhyped. Inscrutable, misunderstood... too much brooding. The reality? Half the time, a guy's just an asshole."

Nari laughs, a genuine, hearty sound that fills the room. "God, isn't that the fucking truth? Jane Austen might've been brilliant, but let's be real, she set us up for disappointment."

"Exactly!" Ayame says, setting the book down carefully, like it's made of glass. "Darcy would've ghosted Elizabeth Bennet the second she disagreed with him about where to eat dinner."

The door creaks open suddenly, and Minho pokes his head in. His eyes are wide, his expression a mix of urgency and uncontained excitement. "They've made their decision."

Ayame's stomach flips, and her heart jumps into her throat. She stands abruptly, clutching the book to her chest like it might shield her from whatever's coming. "Already? Fuck, that was fast."

Nari places a steadying hand on Ayame's shoulder, her own voice calm but firm. "You've got this. Whatever they decide, you've already proved yourself."

Ayame takes a shaky breath, nodding. Minho waves them on impatiently, practically bouncing on his feet. "Come on, maknae, let's move. I didn't sit through Haechul's stupid power monologue in the hallway for nothing."

"Was it about how great his dick is again?" Ayame mutters, the nerves making her mouth run faster than her brain.

Minho smirks. "Oh, it always is. But don't worry, you're about to show them that brains and balls come in much better packaging."

Nari chuckles as they make their way to the meeting room. "Ayame Lim. Brains, balls, and stilettos. A force of nature."

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait guys <3 I had two 2,500 word assignments and a 3,000 word assignment to do over the Christmas period but they've all been done and I'm back <3 Vote on my three day poll for my new story: The Inheritance of Love

Taglist: @fackeraccount @ot8girlfie @nightmarenyxx @reimaybeidk

@ismelllikechlorine247 @drewsandsebastianswife @my-neurodivergent-world @rhonnie23 @hanji-coffee

@skzleeknowcore @idiotmaterial

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fangirling-since-1674 · 24 days ago

Text

This is my take on the Escape mv borrowing heavily from the big-brained @boom-boom-back.

Full disclaimer: I am talking out of my arse. If you disagree, please be respectful and if you can't be please just block me. It does get a bit sad at the end but that's just my headcanon, still, fair warning.

However, if you agree, hey bestieee tell me what you think!!

Now let's goooo

The mv depicts the story of two boys who are actually were-men. Bang Chan is a werewolf and Hyunjin is a wereferret (at first I thought both of them were werewolves but folks on youtube said that it's actually a ferret. Also, we only get to see their were-forms only once and it's very distorted but looking closely, the shadows are definitely different creatures.)

Their world is basically like x-men where the mutants are deemed as a danger to society and captured. They've probably spent most of their lives in some institution isolated from the world with others like them. I think so because they were looking at everything with such naked wonder on their faces. Every mundane thing brought new joy to their eyes (and the audience just feels sad looking at their joy, because if such simple things are enough to make them happy, what kind of life were they leading up until now).

All they have in this cruel world is each other. And this is a personal headcanon, but I'd say both their families were killed in childhood and they were put in the institution. Maybe they did not get along at first because of their rough personalities but some incident brought them closer and over time they become each other's most important person. All they care about is the other one.

They show their love for each other in unconventional ways, they wrestle, they rough each other up like pups, and to outsiders it may look like they are fighting, but they are clearly enjoying it (as is evident from their unhinged smile while in a vulnerable position with the other pinning him down, yeah... they are not fighting.)

As for the nature of their relationship, simply going by what's depicted it's quite undeniably homoerotic. How does one put a label on such a relationship? They've probably never had a normal relationship with boundaries and such with anyone so yeah. But they are each other's everything, the most important person, each other's world. No normal friendship has this amount of obsession, this level of co-dependency, if their circumstances were normal this would be soo soo toxic and would not work. It is most probably still toxic but here it works:)

(Think saint and shin from high school frenemy. Think ivan and till, had they managed to escape that one time.)

So they enter that abandoned factory seeking shelter from their pursuers. And experience the wonders of free life in that dingy place. They let their wild selves free in that place. They experience genuine freedom and joy for probably the first time in their lives.There's the scene with the goldfish where they are shown to be tenderly appreciating it instead of all the other scenes before where they were vandalising everything. But then bc shatters the tank and presents hj with the shard of glass. What could this mean? That it's their nature to destroy? They are not peaceful beings and the way they grew up is certainly not going to make them well adjusted. All their suffering will inevitably spill and cause harm and whose fault is that? It's to show that yeah these dudes are fucked up, but you get it, you still like them and root for them.

Hj appears to be the more volatile one of the two. He is also a pyromaniac there were so many scenes of him playing with fire (ive always like to play with fire, heh). But I think that bc is the one who is more dangerous because he is more level minded. He isn't so impulsive (this would become more apparent later.)

They've barely had a moment of happiness when the authorities catch up to them again. They are caught off gaurd in their fleeting moment of bliss. They run hand in shackled hand until they come upon a dead end.

Hj sacrifices himself for chan (see, impulsive!) and leads the pursuers away from him and eventually gets captured. He's kept in a temporary facility with not so good security, which doesn't make a lot of sense because the authorities should be competent enough to keep him where he would not be able to escape again. I think maybe that's because they want him to run away and go find the other one for them so that they can capture the both of them together.

Also The Shard of Glass. The way he holds onto that as if armed with just that fragile thing he could take down any danger for his friend. (Sobs.) Treasuring something so fragile, so sharp and dangerous but so beautiful when the light hits it just right. That's them! That's who they are!

Chan is sick with worry for his friend but on the night of the full moon he feels the presence again. This makes me think their bond is on top of everything else, supernatural also. Hj in his cell also feels the shackles on his wrist sort of guiding his way (like they were kinda levitating idk). Almost as if they recognise who they wish to be bound to and it's not the bars of this cell. (Sobs again)

We have the reunion. It's the full moon, their forms are distorting, we see the creepy werewolf and ferret (creepy ferret, ha!). That hug. The way their bodies just slam into each other like it could crush anything that came in between them.

And then the pursuers descend upon them but this time they realise the strength of their bond. They know that the only way out is through. They overcome their fear. For once, they fight, instead of running.

We don't find out the outcome of the fight. Can these dudes with no experience beat those who have the expertise in shackling those like them and have probably killed those much stronger than them? Who knows? That is the appeal of the ending. Maybe against all odds they win ...

Or... maybe the ferret dies and the wolf escapes and the Railway mv is actually about how chan fueled by the desire for revenge against his tormentors is out there pulling beating hearts straight from the chests and crushing them within the palm of his hand (it's a wonder they have a heart at all).

The whole werewolf and ferret thing reads as a metaphor for repressed and ostracized minorities (queer kids or kids who are otherwise different and don't fit it in society as it is, so much so that it actively feels like shackles binding them). This whole mv reads sooo queer. I don't know or care about the exact label but the relationship that the main leads depict is so queer-coded. It's not even subtext. It's the whole damn text when coupled with the lyrics. I love them so much for that. And when we combine the mv of Railway with the tragic ending headcanon it fits so perfectly with the theme of 'child is was not embraced by the village will be the one to burn it down to feel its warmth'.

Alright I watched the mv again and it ends with the shot of shattered glass with a shard shattering in two and I am afraid that adds weight to the tragic ending theory in my delulu mind.

It's that shard. The shard that chan gave to him. And glass is fragile but it breaking like that does not seem like a good omen.

Wow... this has gotten so long. I want to write down this mv as a story and capture its vibe as it has bewitched me heart and soul, so watch out for that;)

Also do share your own thoughts and interpretations, I seem to never get tired of reading those.

Thank you for reading my ramblings. Have a nice day/sleep!<3

#stray kids #skz #skz lore #escape #bang chan #hyunjin #alien stage #high school frenemy

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