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melodyofmbaku · 2 days ago

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Pour Me Another Lie (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Preview: “You’re doing good baby. Keep that up, Smoke’s gonna be nice to you. Gonna be real nice and give you what you want.” Stack encouraged with a kiss to her tear stained cheek.

Word Count: 2.25k

Warning ⚠️: They're a Trio. Smut (18+ Material) + Angst

A/N Ya'll loved the boys and Annie together as a trio in Her House, Her Rules. So heres more!🤠💁🏾‍♀️ ____

“I ain’t know Annie’s working Hank’s bar now.”

Cornbread was in the barn unloading the last batch of beers the boys had ordered and trying to make conversation while Filly stacked bottles behind him.

Smoke sat at the bar, flipping through a ledger. Stack leaned over the back of the couch, scribbling on a clipboard, mid-count.

Upon Cornbread's comment, there was a shift.

Smoke’s back straightened. His hand froze mid-air, glass halfway to his lips. Stack’s head turned slow like he hadn’t heard right, then let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“What you mean?” Stack asked.

Cornbread scratched his head. “I saw her. Earlier today. When I was dropping off at Hank’s. She was behind the bar. Serving.” He said it plain, like it wasn’t a live grenade.

The boys shared a look before Stack started.

“That wasn’t Annie. Because Annie dont work, do she Smoke?” Stack shot at his brother over his shoulder.

“Annie don’t work.” The older responded flatly.

“That’s right. Cuz Annie ain't got no bills. Annie got any bills Smoke?” He asked his brother.

“Annie ain’t got no damn bills.” The older confirmed.

A picture was forming now. Smoke didn’t like it. Hadn’t thought much of how she’d been slipping out in the afternoons lately—just as they were settling into sleep. Kissing them both goodbye like it was nothing.

Back by eleven. Smelling like sweat and sugar. He’d chalked it up to her wandering ways. She got restless. But she didn’t work.

Smoke stood from his stool, slow and measured. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But Cornbread wasn’t the lying type. The man was many things, but not a liar.

He stalked closer as Stack kept going.

“Annie don’t pay bills. So she don’t need to be working for no money. Definitely not for no damn Hank, and especially not serving no drinks.” Stack concluded.

Cornbread rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t trying to stir anything up. He just figured they knew. He let out a breath and tried to explain.

He’d been hauling crates with Filly—usual route. Made the stop at Hank’s around 5. Sun had teeth that day, hot on the back of his neck.

Inside, the bar was its usual dark, sticky self. And there she was.

Annie, behind the bar like she’d always been there. Dress stuck to her back, brow damp. Laughing at something Hank said.

She didn’t see him.

He wanted to wave. Say something. But Filly was already honking the horn, yelling about the next stop.

So he let her be.

“I ain’t lyin’. You can ask Filly too,” Cornbread said, nodding toward the young man hauling in the last crate.

“Yeah, that was Miss Annie at Hanks, can’t miss that laugh of hers.” The boy shared a smile, not knowing what he was walking into.

Silence fell thick as a quilt.

Smoke’s jaw flexed. Stack clapped a hand on Cornbread’s shoulder.

“Preciate you for stopping by.” Smoke said, a tight smile on his lips and a prompt for the man to hit the road.

“You’re a good man, Cornbread.” Stack said as he started him towards the exit.

Cornbread hesitated at the barn door. “She ain’t in trouble is she?”

“Trouble? Nah, she not in no trouble.” Stack replied, smiling with his golds peaking out.

But for some reason, Cornbread had a feeling she had walked straight into it.

___

Earlier that day…

The house was still, heavy with the kind of silence that only came when the boys were down for the count.

Smoke and Stack had come home just before dawn—fed and full, stretched out like kings in the wide bed they shared with her. By the time the sun crept through the curtains, they were out cold, deep in the kind of slumber that wouldn’t break for hours.

Annie sat on the edge of the bathtub, taking her twists down and fluffing through her curls with slow, idle movements. The house was too quiet. She looked at the clock—just after noon. She’d already done her chores. Her hands itched for something else.

The days were long now. And with the boys sleeping till sundown and business slow this week, Annie had too much time to think. She’d stopped by Hank’s the day before to drop off a tonic for his gout, and he’d looked at her with those tired eyes and said, “Wish I had someone with hands like yours behind the bar. Just till Margie gets back.”

She hadn’t answered then. But now, hours into silence, she found herself slipping on a cotton dress and pinning her hair back. Nothing fancy—just a shift dress and low heels. Something easy to move in.

“I’ll be back before they even wake up,” she murmured to herself, grabbing her purse. “Just a couple hours. Help Hank out. Stretch my legs.”

She left a note on the kitchen counter, though she doubted they’d see it. They never looked for notes—they looked for her. The words she wrote weren’t a lie, not exactly. But she left out the part about where she was going—and why she wouldn’t be back before sundown.

Annie was in trouble.

Stack’s eyes bugged out. “You seeing this?”

Smoke didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Smoke was seeing it. He saw Annie—there, behind a bar, pouring a drink for a patron. Wearing that soft cotton dress she liked, sleeves rolled up, hair pinned. She looked pretty. Capable. Like she belonged.

And that made it worse. Smoke made it clear early on that he never wanted her to have to answer to another man for money. He would make sure that she would never have to. He had a big thing about taking care of his family. Taking care of his woman.

He loved that Annie made her own money and pursued he own passions. Smoke nurtured that entrepreneurial spirit in her, helped her with her business. And she made a fair amount from it. He’d pay for whatever herb she needed that grew across the country to be delivered. Just so that Annie could hone in on her craft and work on new treatments for her customers.

But where she stood right now? This wasn’t her business. This wasn’t her passion. It was the antithesis of everything Stack wanted for his woman. A threat to what he believed made him a man.

She spotted them just a second too late—two shadows seated at the back of the room, dark and still. Her heart sank the moment she met Smoke’s eyes. Stack’s face was easier to read—surprised, maybe even a little amused—but Smoke? He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared.

The boys had picked a table in the back of the venue, tucked away from view but still with enough of a vantage to see the action.

She dropped the towel and ditched the apron with haste and headed over the the boys table.

“I’ll meet y’all at the house,” Smoke said, voice flat.

“Smoke, I can explain,” Annie called out, taking a hesitant step toward him—but he was already turning away, flagging down the stock boy.

“Where’s your boss at?” Smoke asked. “I got somethin’ for him.”

Stack shook his head as he looked at Annie with a little pity. He personally wasn’t too fussed with Annie working. As long as the patrons kept their hands to themselves and Annie stayed strapped he thought she’d be fine.

But Smoke? That was a different story. Stack knew how his brother felt about their woman being in someone else’s domain.

The way Smoke acted, you’d think she was on the damn pole.

Stack stood and stretched like he’d just finished a meal. “Let’s go, sweet bits,” he said, gently placing a hand on the small of her back to steer her toward the exit.

She resisted for a second, glancing back—hoping, maybe, that Smoke would stop her. Say something. But he was already disappearing behind the swinging doors.

Stack almost felt bad for Annie. Almost.

He wasn’t really mad—not the way Smoke was. He didn’t mind her working, not in theory. But working for another man in a place like this? And doing it behind their backs? That was where things got sticky.

She might’ve been able to get away with it if she opted for being a seamstress. But a damn barmaid? Stack wouldn’t be able to save her from her brother's wrath even if he wanted to. The duo left the bar as instructed and headed home.

They were in the bed awaiting her fate as Stack pulled Annie back against his chest, his arms snaking around her to cup her breasts with slow, greedy hands.

First he just held them, they were heavy and he loved that.

“I could play with these — with you — all day.” He felt her relax into him. This would take her mind off of things until Smoke got back. Quell any anxiety.

Slowly he began to rub her nipples between his fingers expertly. He was in his element and she was in heaven. He paid attention to her breasts and all she did was lean back and whine. Like a princess. At times her hands overlapped his as she joined him in teasing her tits.

“You like that mama?" A kiss to her cheek "I know you like it when we give these girls attention. You're greedy for it.”

She could feel his dick pressing against her back and her mouth watered. She slid her hands behind her back to grasp at the man’s covered cock. She listened as Stacks voice hitched.

“Oh baby you’re so sweet, tryna take care of me.” Stack looked at his watch, did they have time? Could they have a little fun before his brother came back?

“We gotta be fast.” he said but before they could get into it they heard the front door slam.

They paused their play for a moment when they saw Smoke walk into their bedroom and shut the door.

He didn’t regard them. He slowly began to remove his cuff links and roll up his sleeves.

As he was undoing his belt he looked up and locked eyes with Annie. Perhaps the only time he’d done so that night.

“You wanted to be seen, didn’t you?” Smoke asked. His voice was quiet, not cruel. That made it worse.

Smoke walked straight toward her — slow, deliberate, without saying a word. He knelt between her legs, ignoring Stack's hold on her, and slid his hands up her thighs to pull her hips forward, closer to the edge of the bed. His grip was firm. Possessive. It was a silent claim, and it told her everything words hadn’t yet said.

He shoved her dress up to her hips. She knew this was her moment. To plead her case — to appease Smokes anger.

“Smoke — I can explain —“

“Shhhh”. Stack whispered in his wife’s ear.

In response she struggled in his arms. Stack held her close to his body with a smile.

“How about you show Smoke your pussy baby? I think he wants to see how greedy she is.”

She shook her head and tried to close her knees and avoid Smoke's hot gaze.

Stacks hands were fast. Dropping from her tits down to her thick thighs quickly.

“No, no. Keep em open.” His hands forced her knees back apart, for her sex to be exposed to his brother's view.

“Be good.” Stack murmured —

“She hasn’t been,” Smoke said coldly, without looking up. “That’s the problem.”

When Smoke placed his mouth on her sex she threw her head back, eyes raised to the sky. She could feel him in every part of her body. His tongue expertly licked her from her clit to her opening snaking through her folds to sip every drop of her essence.

She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or thank him.

“Look at Smoke Annie. He tryna teach you something. He’s showing you what happens when you don’t listen.”

Smoke worked with experience and precision. He knew his woman and all her parts. Knew how she liked to be touched. It wasn’t long before she was on the brink of an orgasm, and then he just… stopped.

She gasped, and there he was, on his knees looking her straight in her face. Her lip trembled.

A tear slipped of her eye and began a trail down her face. Stack licked it.

Annie began sobbing. She could tell what kind of night it was gonna be.

“Smoke only tryna help you baby. He’s doing it cuz he loves you.” he crooned into her ear before kissing her cheek.

Almost satisfied with her ruin Smoke went right back to work licking into her sensually.

Stack matched that and began to play with her nipples once more. He pulled them, obsessed with how she responded when he did. The pain bit and then subsided and her shallow breaths encouraged him to keep going.

She gasped. “Please.”

“Smoke’s still mad about that bar,” Stack whispered. “But he’ll forgive you. He always does.”

Throughout this entire ordeal. Stack was his brother's mouthpiece. The older hadn’t said many words. Annie didn’t know where his head was at.

“He’s quiet, huh?” Stack whispered, grinning.

And it continued like that. Smoke sipping from her pussy and bringing her to the brink of her pleasure before stopping and starting back up again. He made sure to look her in the eyes when he stopped right before she orgasmed.

He wanted to see her disappointment. Her frustration. For her to feel like how he was feeling right now.

He kept her desperate and wanton with his ministrations on purpose. It was pleasure and punishment all at once.

“Stack please. Please —“ She begged with little reservation. “I need it.” “Please let me cum.” She wailed as he her brought her right to the edge before pulling away and sitting back. Watching the confusion ripple across her face once more.

“You begged them like that too?” Smoke asked, still between her thighs, voice low. “You make those sounds for them?” His grip on her thighs tightened.

It dawned on her once again that he’d left her hanging. He turned his attention right back in to suck on her clit. He rubbed his tongue against it, lapping at it, savoring the noises that came from her lips as a result of his wicked actions.

But then she moaned his name. Not Stack’s. His.

It broke something in him.

Smoke growled low in his throat, and for a second the precision was gone — replaced by hunger, raw and unchecked. His fingers sank deeper, rougher. His mouth moved like he needed her to cry out again, louder this time, for him.

“Say it again,” he rasped against her sex. “Say my name like you mean it.”

And she did. Over and over again.

Still he persisted. At a certain point in the evening Annie stopped begging and started repenting.

“I’m sorry daddy. I’m so sorry.” Now they were getting somewhere.

Smoke paused. He didn’t look at her. But she felt the way his hands softened, just slightly, against her skin.

“Good,” he finally said before diving back into her sex, fingers curling inside her.

“Smoke I — I’m sorry.” She let out desperately. Her head flung back. She wanted him to hear her. She meant it.

“You’re doing good baby. Keep that up, Smoke’s gonna be nice to you. Gonna be real nice and give you what you want.” Stack encouraged with a kiss to her tear stained cheek.

Hearing her apologies and desperate breathless whines worked to subdue Smoke’s anger. He could feel the anger subsiding — sliding back into himself. The teasing wasn’t in vain. She was seeing the error of her ways.

When he had had his fill of her moans and apologies, he decided to give in.

“Annie.” The first word he’d said in a while. Her eyes were unfocused.

“Look at me.” And she did. He held her gaze as he stroked her insides with his two fingers and thumbed at her clit.

She could feel it coming, coupled with the way Stack tweaked her tits and the way pleasure was building in her chest. She was almost scared of how her orgasm would take her. Scared of the feeling that was to come. Still she held his gaze.

She mouthed the words ”Please” but no sound came out. The one final suck of her clit into his mouth did it and sent her over tumbling over the edge.

She bucked and Stack was startled for a moment before he held her body to himself as her orgasm crashed over her. She was a fucking wonder.

“Look at you. Look at you.” Smoke praised softly as she wailed — the sound came from deep within her. It was primal. Through it all, Smoke stayed on his knees, between her legs to lap at the essence that freely flowed from her.

In a way, at that moment all of them could sit back a little easier. The tension in the room melted alongside her orgasm. As if they experienced the same oxytocin she did. They waited for her to catch her breath.

Slowly — Smoke stood up.

He gripped her chin softly and looked down at her. She was wrecked. Her lips were parted and her chest moved up and down. His thumb skimmed her kiss swollen bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” He spoke softly.

Annie opened her mouth almost immediately. Like she was craving what would come next. Like she was hungry for it — for him.

Her eyes locked with his as he spat into her mouth.

“Keep it open.” He spoke once more.

And she did.

Smoke wanted to see. Wanted a visual on how they — how he — owned her. And how she wanted to be owned too. It was reciprocal. The two held each others gaze, almost communicating to one another through micro expressions.

You hurt me. You’re mine and nobody else’s.

I love you. I’m yours. I'm sorry.

“Swallow.” She closed her mouth and her eyes and swallowed what he’d given her.

Stack scrunched his nose up. “Ya’ll nasty as hell.”

“Smoke?” She breathed. He crouched down and pushed the tendrils of curls out of her face. Her hand reached out to him seeking connection and he was quick to hold it. To rub his thumb over her knuckles and comfort her. To place a chaste kiss on her hand.

He looked up at her frame. She wasn’t in no state to have any kind of conversation right now.

“Yes baby?” he loved her so fucking much it was scary. His Annie.

“ I never —“ she started before her cut her off.

“Tomorrow mama. You're okay. You rest. We’ll talk all about it tomorrow.”

He reached up and placed a kiss on her head. It was shiny with perspiration but Smoke didn’t care. She was his.

She sat back into Stacks chest getting comfortable as Smoke went in and wiped her down with a rag.

They settled into a soft and comfortable silence. There was a reverence in the air.

Stack stroked her hair and placed light kisses behind her ear.

Smoke began whispering sweet proclamations of love into her skin. Almost in worship.

“You did so well.”

A kiss on her ankle.

“You’re perfect.”

A kiss on her knee.

“We love you so much.”

A kiss on the inside of her thigh.

Annie basked in their love, letting the feeling wash over her — filling her heart with warm affection.

Smoke’s position at her feet pouring praise into her skin felt symbolic. Despite what transpired that night, it was her who owned them.

He rose to see her face.

“You’re ours, Annie,” Smoke said softly, brushing her curls back. “Don’t make us doubt that again.”

Whatever happened today? It was water under the bridge. They’d talk about it tomorrow. She’d worked hard tonight — paid her penance.

She was loved, safe, and protected under the watchful and attentive eyes of her partners.

The hurt had been seen. The apology had been heard. The slate, quietly, was clean.

And with that knowing, she let slumber take her over.

____ Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list. My other works can be found in My Masterlist. Thanks for reading! ___ Taglist @chaneajoyyy @pyraomen @browngirldominion @sarcastic-sunshines

#sinners fan fic #sinners fanfiction #annie x smoke #black!fem!reader #black!reader #smoke moore #smokestack twins #stack x reader #smoke x reader #annie and smoke #smoke x annie #melodicfic #black writer #black reader #my fic #sinners writer #stack moore #smoke x annie x stack

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cookiewrites · 1 day ago

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here's some rich scoups spoiling you thoughts i have been unable to get out of my head for the past months. the tl;dr of it all is that seungcheol is obsessed with spoiling his partner.

spoilt

wc: 1.0k

cw: rich!seungcheol x afab reader, mostly sfw but does mention penetrative and oral sex (reader reciving) a couple times, pet names for reader (baby, jagiya), little bit of praise kink. this has not been proofread.

seungcheol who loves when you spend his money. it starts simply, he makes sure he pays when you two eat out together. you try and protest it but he doesn't hear any of it, pulling out his card before you can even say anything about it - whether this is brunch or dinner.

seungcheol who uses this as an opening to start paying for things when you're at home too. ordering food in? use his card. doing some online shopping? put it on his account. you need new bedding? you both sleep in the bed, it's better to let him pay. he leaves a copy of his card around the apartment for you, putting it in your phone, making it even easier to use than your own, breaking down any excuse you have to use your own.

seungcheol who pays not as a method of control, but as a method of care. he knows you have your own money, and that you can afford to pay for things, you did it for all the years before he turned up. but he doesn't want you to worry about it any more, its part of how he looks after you. he explains this to you over and over, until you finally believe him, and put your own card hidden in the back of your purse for emergencies only.

seungcheol, who got so hard the first time you splurged on his card, that he had to bury himself in you. you came home with this beautiful necklace, rambling some apology about how expensive it was, and how you can return it if he wants, and all he can feel is his cock straining against the fabric at his jeans, seeing you finally feeling comfortable enough to let him pay for things.

"it looks so good jagiya, you look spoiled, that's exactly how i like you" he rambles as he kisses down your neck, putting a little mark right under where the chain sits. "lemme show you, baby, fuck..."

seungcheol who's favourite part of his day is coming home and seeing your haul from your day out, knowing he paid for all of it. you show him the trinkets you picked up for your shelves, and the new jumper you bought, and the earrings you bought already in your ears. the possessiveness he feels makes him feel a little dizzy, he treats you so well that you're showing it off. letting everyone else know how good he treats you.

seungcheol who gets whiney if you haven't bought anything in a while. he'll check his app and see you haven't spent anything in a bit and gets suspicious, knowing you've at least bought food in the last week, so why hasn't he paid? he'll bring it up to you, pouting, his lip sticking out. why would you hurt him like this?

seungcheol who'll use this as an excuse to pull up all the half filled baskets in your phone's browser and check them all out. he uses this as a threat, that if you aren't regularly treating yourself, that he'll do it for you. sometimes he'll just do it when you're cuddling. watching the tiktoks you're showing him, and then taking the phone out of your hands, to finish the purchases of a couple things, even as you try to stop him. there is no reason, to him at least, that you shouldn't have every single thing you want.

seungcheol who never uses the fact you buy yourself things as a reason to not buy you surprises as well. he uses the outgoings on his account to see what you're fixated on right now, and add on. is it blind boxes? he's bought you a full set. is it make up? he saw this palette he thought was cute. is it jewellery? you have a new ring to wear arriving tomorrow.

"it just reminded me of you!" he explains, pouting, as you question why he's bought you another gift. "it'll look so pretty on, baby, please? for me?" acting as if the gift for you, is actually a present for him.

seungcheol who literally gets off on spoiling you. he's finished in his pants several times as he ate you out, and you went on a shopping spree on his phone, telling him all the things you're buying. for him, this is exactly how things should be, you doing absolutely nothing, and getting completely spoilt anyway. all fucked out, and dressed up, getting anything you could possibly want.

"mmm baby you can give me another one" he groans against your thigh as you try to whine that it's too much, "i know you can baby, let me spoil you, yeah? yeah." he dives back in, losing himself in it, making you shake so much you can't even finish checking out - but he'll make sure to finish that for you later as well.

seungcheol who loves when you tell him how good he treats you, and how spoilt you are. it's a bit of a praise kink thing for him, but he just loves hearing how happy you are and how spoilt you feel. it makes his heart (and his cock) full. that's what this is about, making you feel even half of the love he holds for you.

"you're so good to me cheol" you groan, hands helplessly clawing at his back as he fills you up again. "f-fuck, so good to me, baby, no one treats me as well as you do." you ramble, letting him know just how good he is.

seungcheol who puts his black card in your mouth when you begin to complain that he is ruining your expensive lingerie, a very quick way to remind you that he can afford to buy you a new set a dozen times over - and sometimes he does it, just to prove the point.

seungcheol who's so proud when the guys point out how spoilt you are. if they even try and insinuate that it's a bad thing, he shuts it down immediately - reminding them that they'd be so lucky to even have someone to spoil. someone as special as you.

#scoups x reader #scoups smut #scoups imagines #svt imagines #svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #svt x reader #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #seventeen seungcheol

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zorange13 · 3 days ago

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—enhypen as boyfriends, argument edition

how they are during arguments?

enha hyung line x fem! poc reader (no specific descriptors, like i said i just write everything with poc's in mind so this is just my thing atp idk)

cw. arguments/conflicts in romantic relationships, verbal escalation, profanity (bc when do i not curse), emotional vulnerability, brief mentioning of tears.

wc. 2.2k, lightly proofread

lee heeseung

— what he does

whether it’s you or him that’s in the wrong, it always starts with somebody sassing the other person unnecessarily or for no good reason. please don’t misunderstand, you guys are not toxic by any means. but i still stand on what i said about him being prideful. so with that, i feel that you two would go at it until you make a good point, then he just shuts down—as previously mentioned. so he would just stop talking after a while, especially when he feels like you aren’t hearing him.

but the thing about hee is that he never calls you your actual name. it’s always ‘babe’, ‘beautiful’, or ‘baby’ and if he does call you by your name then that’s how you would know he’s livid. which isn’t that often—but nonetheless, he doesn’t talk after a while. especially if he gets so angry to the point where he just retracts. he hits you with the ‘mhm’, ‘yeah’, ‘i get it’, and everything else just so he doesn’t have to tell you that you’re right or that he was being dramatic.

— how he would make it up to you

like i said, after his fit of silence, then he would apologize whether he was wrong or not. he doesn’t like to be wrong but would not risk you over some stupid ass argument about who didn’t clean up. but like i said, he’s a very masculine guy and prides himself on being a good counterpart to your femininity. he feels that you shouldn’t have to yell, nor should you have to overexert yourself to make a point to him. especially when it’s both of you guys’ job to have healthy, safe conversations with the other. but no one’s perfect and that’s not going to happen every single time. “you were right, and i’m sorry. i don’t like to see you yell or anything because that’s not what a lady should do, and i’m sorry that i brought that out of you over something so silly. i love you and never want to put you in a position like that.”

from there, heeseung would give you space if that’s what you wanted. but he would still let you know how apologetic he is by going to get your favorite snacks and setting up a cute at-home movie date. or if you aren’t up to that, he’d cook you dinner and talk to you about how you’re feeling for as long as you need to.

he isn’t perfect and can acknowledge that, but he loves you and will do anything to make sure you know.

park jay

— what he does

jay’s very calm and likeminded, but almost annoyingly so. he doesn’t like to fight and neither do you. but regardless, fights happen but if anyone were to be loud, it would be you. you’re not above raising your voice, and a part of you feels so stupid because as weird as it sounds, you wished he’d get angry. but he just sits there, listening—of course, frustrated—but still actively listening and you would be like “does what i’m saying mean anything to you?” and he would nod quaintly, “it means everything to me, you mean everything to me and that’s why i’m just trying to figure this out.” “jay, you know you can yell back right? no, not even yell. just act like you give a shit.” “i can give a shit and still not yell, you know that right?”

he tries to hear you out but then he just finds himself getting irritated at your lack of understanding at times. but he wouldn’t back down, nor would he let you walk all over him. I feel like when you really start to push him is when he’d snap. “okay no, i’m not doing this with you if you’re just gonna speak to me like i’m a child. i’m your equal as you’re mine, be a fucking adult and stop speaking to me like i’m not a grown man.”

— how he would make it up to you

you both take some time away from the conversation and reconvene when you’re both calm. funnily enough, in the early days of your relationship, you both promised each other that during a fight you guys had to hold hands. especially when you both felt it was necessary. so as you guys hold hands, like you do every fight, you hear each other out. you apologize for the wrongdoings and neglection between the both of you. “i’m sorry for cursing at you earlier, i was frustrated but that’s not excuse. you are my woman, my love and you deserve more than the lowest words that leave someone’s mouth being spewed in your direction.” you both laugh at his cheesiness, but nonetheless you forgive him because you in fact did need that wakeup call.

he spends the rest of the day giving you space if you so choose. if not, then he just hangs out with you and does whatever you want. watching tv, playing games, just chatting, it’s simple moments like these when he remembers why he fell in love with you in the first place.

sim jaeyun

— what he does (& how it starts)

jake is such a sweet person, such a soft, kindhearted individual and i feel like it would take a lot to get him truly angry. with people like him, either they’re super sensitive or it takes a lot to really get them there. how he is with others, we don’t know. but with you, he loves you so much that he’s more than willing to be patient with you. “ok, she had a bad day. let me give her space.” “she just gave me an attitude for no reason, let me just make her something to take her mind off what’s bothering her.” and he lets you slide, he doesn’t say anything. he just shows that he cares and leaves you alone. but one day, one fateful day, when you come home and give him an attitude when he tries to ask you about your day “hi, my angel. how was your day?” “jake, not now. just leave me alone.” he just can’t hold back anymore. “ok, don’t take this the wrong way but…what the fuck is your problem these days?”

this would send fire through you because you’ve been waiting for a reason to take your anger out on someone. “why the fuck are you speaking to me like that?” and this would open the floodgates. “because you’ve been speaking to me like i did something to you. you’ve been in a weird mood these last few days and i’ve been letting you slide but now this is getting to be too much. i’m not a fucking doormat. you may be in a bad mood but i’m your man, and you’re gonna respect me.” “but i’ve just been in a mood and you keep sweating me!” “you think i give a shit about a mood? you—babe (this is where the aggravation comes in)…then you say ‘baby, i’m not in a good mood and i would like to be alone for a while.’ you don’t shut me out for 2 days and then get mad when i confront you about it.”

— how he would make it up to you

ok he did in fact eat you up just then! but still, you may be pissed but what makes sense, makes sense. “you’re right. 100%. i should’ve spoken to you about it and asked for that space. i’m sorry for the way i spoke to you, i love you. i hope you can forgive me.” it really is that simple but jake is still frustrated and at this point comes to tears because he feels hurt that you didn’t even trust him enough to come to him about what was bothering you and it even boiled over to this point. at this point, he would start having doubts about him as your boyfriend and this would eat you alive. But he would apologize himself too. “i’ll always forgive you, always. but this can’t be happening, it’s fine if you come home after a hard day and you want space. that’s more than okay, but when you start getting disrespectful for no reason is where i draw the line. we’re adults here and this is not something that we should be engaging in if this is how we’re gonna be communicating from now on. this has to be fixed. now, because that was crazy.”

you agree, and for the rest of the day talk as long as you guys need to, you talk about what was bothering you in the first place, also setting new boundaries to ensure this doesn’t happen again!!

park sunghoon

— what he does (& how it starts)

sunghoon is a very quiet person, though he isn’t emotionless. he loves you more than you’d know and at times he doesn’t necessarily know how to show it. i’ve said this before so this isn’t news. if it’s anything outside of an ‘i love you’ then it’s just not him. but, i think there will be a day where you’re feeling extra affectionate with him and he’s just not feeling it. it starts super small though, just how clingy you’re being. but he’s literally just not reciprocating. he’ll just brush you off with a “not now, i’m not in the mood.” which is confusing, because yes, he’s allowed to not be in the mood but even when you aren’t in the mood, you still show up for him when he needs it the most. it’s just a mix of you feeling rejected, unwanted, and his own selfishness.

so when you do bring it up, he just doesn’t see much wrong. “why are you being so mean to me, sunghoon?” “i’m not being mean, i just don’t wanna be bothered.”

he’s not trying to hurt you, but he lowkey sucks at expressing his own feelings when he’s overwhelmed or off. he probably shuts down emotionally mid-argument, giving those short, clipped answers, and might even physically distance himself like, “i need a minute.” it’s not mean, it’s just peak avoidant attachment type of behavior on his end.

— how he would make it up to you

once he has time to sit with his feelings, guilt hits hard. he hates knowing he made you feel unwanted, especially when you were just trying to be close. he’s so bad at verbal apologies at first, but you’d definitely wake up to him being extra sweet—like bringing you coffee. but because he’s so uncomfortable with verbal affection, he’d write you a little letter to truly let you know how apologetic he is. as he’s giving you this letter, he debates reading it to you, or handing it to you then scrambling out of the room. but scrambling out is the exact reason he’s here in the first place. so he goes with the former:

“dear my star,

i have absolutely no sort of emotional wherewithal and this is just my way of telling you that i love you. i love you so much it makes me feel like love isn’t even the right word to use in the context of you. i don’t ever in my life want to make you feel like you cannot talk to me, like you’re an impudence when you are really the best part of my day. nothing makes me feel better than when i come home after a long day then to see your face. even hugging you close, smelling your perfume while i stink from the sweat and you shouldn’t even be hugging me because you just showered. but you don’t care, you just want me. i’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not the best fucking thing to happen to me. i’m sorry for not giving you what you need at moments when i feel like i’m not up to it. when there are days you’re clearly not up to it and still give me every last inch of you. i promise that i will adhere to your love languages, even though that’s something i should’ve been doing already. i love you, my star. and please, whenever i slip or anything, remind me of this promise. the promise we both made to love each other through the speedbumps and hiccups to the mountains and heart attacks. but i am promising that i will work to become the best partner for you until the day my maker calls me home. i’m nothing if not a man of my word.

love always,

your moon, sunghoon”

he’d be smiling while you're nearly in tears and he’s just laughing at his little rhyming scheme. “get it? moon? sunghoon?” and you’d just call him a fucking loser and give him the tightest hug and sloppiest kiss he’s ever gotten in his life.

but he’s made very good on his promise. telling you he loves you and fully indulging in anything that you want to do and he finds that he quite likes being affectionate because it makes him feel so good to see you feel like you’re well taken care of. because as long as you’re with him, you are.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #kpop x black reader #enhypen fic #park jay #jake sim #sunghoon x reader #heeseung x reader #park jay x reader #atp idek what tags to use i just be doing shit lmaooo #i hope you enjoy!! this has been in the docs for a minute and it was on my mind

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riddlemearose · 19 hours ago

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No literally 100% to all of this.

Why do you think students (in secondary or tertiary education) use it to write their assignments for them? Write their essays for them? Do their research for them?

These kinds of people only see the education system as something that is 'gatekeeping' their lives. To them, the education system is not a system that encourages betterment (and I will concede that there are issues within the education system that act against self-improvement). They only see the education systems as a force that will limit their success in the future. But by using AI, they're not learning anything. They don't learn how to think critically, identify rhetoric, or suss out an echo chamber. They are trapping themselves because eventually they'll hit that ceiling and not go any further in their careers, because they're not capable and haven't learnt the skills they need.

The people who use AI for arts do so for the same reason. They dont want to put time into something they dont know if they'll be successful at. And they don't even want to try.

Every artist, no matter their medium (visual art, writing, drama, screenplays, etc.), exists in a nexus of "someone else is better than me", because the arts are subjective. We've all looked at someone else's work and wished we could make something of that calibre. It's normal part of being a human, and most of us use that drive to improve our own talents and crafts, honing it so we become better with each piece we create.

These people don't do that, because they only feel jealousy and envy. They don't comprehend that the arts are, by definition, a sacrifice. In order to create, you have to give your time and energy. It's a medium that is only rewarding once it's completed, and the reward does depend on your skill. Again, instead of taking that as a drive for self-improvement, they take the easy way out and get a computer to do it (killing who knows how many trees, stealing from other artists, and undermining the inherent point of the arts themselves in the process).

#they literally dont understand the assignment #the arts are also inherently political #everything is made for a reason and we put a lot of effort into portraying that reason to our audiences #most of these poeple don't know how to think critically about the media they consume #ergo they don't understand the importance of the arts in society #but that's a separate topic all together #anti-ai #ive had this locked and loaded for a while lol

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so-i-did-this-thing · 1 day ago

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Hey there! I saw in one of another post of yours that you dealt with hoarding, any tips for de-hoarding the house?

Oh boy, do I have a lot. Here's what has helped me, a hoarder who lived several years at Level 4 (squalor, utilities shut off frequently):

Always be kind to yourself. Hoarding is a disorder and for me it was triggered by accumulated trauma. It will take a while to dig out, and you will likely have to wrestle with hoarding urges all your life.

Mindset tips:

Space is more valuable than stuff. Clear pathways, room to sit & sleep, prepare food, work on crafts -- it is *valuable*

Your home is not an optimization problem for storage. Again, space and clean surfaces are necessary! Not having paralysis of choice is valuable!

Cultivate awareness of when you aquire things and devise ways to break out of a buying pattern - put the phone away, go for a walk, etc.

Make some short-term rules: nothing comes in before two things go out. Only buy things you know you will use in the next month. Etc.

Kill sunk-cost-fallacy. The real value is peace of mind, not the potential of an object.

Decluttering tips

Clean out trash, first. Just get the obvious garbage out so you have space to work in.

Get some bankers boxes or bins. Create a group for sale/donate. Put some "keep" boxes in each room.

Start with 1 room to declutter. Again - trash, first. Then, go through objects in that room, putting in the group sale/donate boxes, or directly into the "keep" box for the room that object should live in. Don't worry about *where* in the room the "keep" items go in -- they go in the box, for now.

Try to get the decluttered room to a point where you can move furniture for a deep clean. And try to avoid putting anything in this room that doesn't belong there. You are focusing on 1 room at a time to fix.

Assess your decluttered room for how it might encourage hoarding. Again, is there not enough space? Do you need to take out or rearrange furniture to encourage living/working surfaces?

Don't be in a rush to sort through any of your boxes. Focus on reclaiming space.

Go through the boxes after you've had time to decompress. Some time should have passed and you now can look at your items more neutrally.

For your possessions, ask: does this spark joy? Do I have something similar already? Why am I holding onto it? Is the potential worth the time and space to hang onto it? If it is sentimental, is there a better way to use or display it? If it is broken or a crafting item, will I really fix/use it?

Get in the habit of giving objects a permanent home. Label shelves, bins, whatever else you need to.

Maintenance tips:

Avoid buying things when you're overly emotional

Designate landing pads for items. They don't have to be in the traditional places -- if you take your shoes off in the kitchen, then buy a boot tray and put it in there. Always put your wallet in the same space. Etc.

If daily clutter overtakes surfaces in your home, consider catch-all baskets. I have some in high traffic areas, like the dining room, staircase, and living room. Go through the baskets on a regular basis to weed out junk and put items away where they live.

Be honest with how much time you have to enjoy your possessions. Will you read that many books? Wear all those clothes? Make all those crafting kits? Are you spending more time aquiring vs enjoying?

Regularly assess your belongings and see what you can let go. If you are not sure yet, put items in a box and see if you can live without for several months. Date the box, and be brutal about dealing with it in the time frame you decide upon.

Get into a chore routine. Sometimes, chores are easier if the cleaning supplies are right there. I have an upstairs vacuum and a downstairs vacuum for this very reason.

A 10 minute "reset" at the end of the day goes really far, especially if you are a crafter.

Find something more benign to collect, if you are a magpie. I collect public domain stuff in digital format, video game items, etc. I'd rather be a hoarder in Skyrim than IRL.

I also "collect" experiences now -- I am currently seeing how many different trails I can hike. Maybe you would like something like birdwatching, to sate your hoarding urges. Redirection can go a long way.

I can go more into specifics, but these are always on my mind when I think about controlling one's hoarding. I hope it helps!

#hoarding

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 days ago

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bob things because i keep seeing edits of him and joaquin torres.

Bob is very aware of how much stronger then everyone he is, so when he careful with you, making sure to not use more then he needs. He worries that he might accidently hurt you in the process, something he wouldn't forgive himself for nor ask for forgivness from you as he doesn't deserve it. He's so gentle with you that you thought he was handiling glass or porcelain with how he held your arm or holding your hand.

It wasn't in a way where he was under estimating you, but instead in a way where he was still firm with his grip yet was loose enough where you could easily break away from him. You were at the forefront of his mind whenever he does anything that required him in any aspect to touch you, he would much rather put your comfort first and above his own then ever do anything that would cause you even the slightest bit of discomfort.

Even if you did tell him that he didn't have to be so gentle with you, Bob was still going to be gentle with you even when he's on a mission and see you were in danger, quick to act as he moves you out of harms way as his hands anchor you to reality and to him when you looked into his worried eyes. His grip never tightens nor loosens, caressing your shoulders as though he was trying to memorise your warmth and existence into his mind, as though he was silently asking you if you were okay while his eyes scan your figure for harm.

Bob is the type of guy who would read books and get ideas for what he should do for you, things like little notes that he would leave scattered throughout your room within the Watchtower or places he knows you'll visit frequently, placing them in specific spots that only you would go to. These little notes would vary from time to time, some of them would be suggestions of where you two could do when you had the time, or notes where they would be filled with sugary sweet compliements that were enough to make your heart melt and internally swoon.

such examples like; 'i like it when we do our own things in silence, it calms me knowing that we're doing stuff that we love together, where we don't have to rely on words and instead just merely exist in tandem and are at peace with that.'

'you looked tired today, do you want to talk about it? or maybe a nap? you've done pulling your weight today and need rest.'

'thank you for being patient with me, thank you for being a dream come true for me and being such a safehaven where i can be vulnerable and let you in on my biggest worries, where i can lay it all out and you still look at me like that love you have for me never faded. thank you.'

'i didn't know i could fall more then i already have, then i look at you and find a new reason to love you, you make it as easy as breathing or writing a note for you to find later much like this one. :)'

'i wake excited to see you as if i haven't seen you in months, i even fall asleep in hopes of seeing you in my dreams, there's never a day where i don't stop thinking about you and i don't plan on stopping either becuase i never want to forget the best moment of my life; meeting you.'

However if you were to give him notes, he's smiling wide at your words and keeping every single last note in a box under his bed, so when he feels as though he needs a pick me up Bob will go to the box and re-read your notes and feel better by the time he gets to the lastest one you've written him. He treasures every last thign you've given him and isn't willing to let go of them either, for these were his reminders that there was someone for him who saw him in a way he hadn't think to see himself on.

If Bob saw that you were just out of it, or just more silent then usual the he would move over to you and just bring you to rest against against him, smooth his hand over your arm as you pratically cuddle yourself into him. Your head being burried into his neck as he allowed you to take a brief rest from everything, to latch your arms to his waist and keep him close to you while Bob kisses your head and reasuring you that he wasn't going anywhere, not when you were in need of him and holding onto him like he might dissapear.

He was your charging station until you felt better to continue the day ahead, though not before Bob would ask if you were okay in a soft hushed tone before he allowed you to eascape his arms.

Bob finds that his mind becomes clear when he was near you, no worries nor nightmares plauge this man when his head was on your chest with his ear listening to your heart and steady breathing, so he's often wandering off to your room just to silence his mind. He's come to your doorstep so much so that you kept stuff that he left from previous times he came, whether it was a sweater or a blanket, it didn't matter becuase your room had became his second home becuase you were there to comfort and console him.

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arc-misadventures · 1 day ago

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Words of Wisdom

Nora: What are you talking about?! Jaune is loaded with words of wisdom!

Weiss: Pff... Jaune? Words of wisdom?

Nora: Yeah! Man's loaded with wisdom!

Yang: I call bullshit.

Pyrrha: Jaune may be a bit of a goofball, but he can say some really deep things.

Blake: Deep things? About what; comic books?

Ren: If you don't believe us, why don't you ask him yourselves?

Weiss: Fine... we'll listen to, Jaune's, 'Words of wisdom.'

Pyrrha: You're going to regret your skepticism~!

Yang: I doubt that.

~~~

Nora: Jaune!

Jaune: What's up. Nora?

Weiss: You're team says you have 'words of wisdom.'

Jaune: And, you called, 'bullshit?'

Yang: I did!

Jaune: And, you all believe I'm too stupid to say anything smart?

Ruby: What, we're...?!

WBY: Yes.

Ruby: Y-Yeah... yeah we do...

Jaune: That's fair.

Jaune: Well, you want some words of wisdom, or not then?

Ruby: Sure.

Jaune: Any requests?

Weiss: Sure... Give us... Give us some advice on avoiding conflicts?

Jaune: Sure, 'Never insult seven men when you're only carrying a six shooter.'

Weiss: What? That's not any good advice.

Blake: No no... It is good advice.

Weiss: What, how?

Yang: He telling you to avoid situations where you're outnumbered.

Blake: What? He's telling us to prepare before getting into a fight.

Ruby: What, no! His advice is to take a, Glock. It has a ten round magazine!

Pyrrha: What if there is a eleven men?

Ruby: Well... the most commonly available, Glock has a magazine with seventeen rounds in it... so...

Ren: You can get a magazine that holds thirty three rounds in it. What if there is thirty four people?

Ruby: S-Spare magazines?

Nora: How about a grenade instead?

Ruby: But... how many grenades would I need?

Weiss: You people are ridiculous... He's obvious telling us if we're armed with only a six shooter, we should only pick a fight with six men!

Nora: Or, you can prepare before hand, and bring extra bullets?

Yang: Oh my gods?!

Ruby: Jaune does say words of wisdom?!

Blake: And, it has so many different interpretations?!

Weiss: This doesn't make any sense?!

Pyrrha: You think this is bad, the reason why we haven't been having classes lately because, Jaune got them stuck in a philosophical debate after saying. 'The smartest man in existence is an learned idiot.'

Weiss: What does that even mean?!

Ruby: The smartest person is someone who's made stupid mistakes, and learned from them!

Blake: No, everyone is smart to varying degrees based on their expertise!

Yang: There is no 'smartest man!' Everyone is a fucking idiot?!

Weiss: Someone kill me?!

JNPR: ...

Jaune: So... anyone up for pancakes?

Pyrrha: I would love some~!

Ren: I am hungry.

Nora: FUCK YEAH!

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #ruby rose #blake belladonna #nora valkyrie #pyrrha nikos #lie ren

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ilostthewar · 3 days ago

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I think Gaz has a speciality of fucking you dumb when you’re overwhelmed.

He catches the signs, how you slowly find less time for yourself, your sleeping and eating habits change. He notices when your nervous ticks start up, how there never seems to be enough time in the day, how your emotions seem like a pot about to boil over. There’s a clear line where ambition becomes self-destructive, and that’s where he steps in.

And to be fair, he gave you a chance to talk about it. Rubbed your shoulders and pressed little kisses into your cheek and to your jaw. Tried to distract you and pull you away from what was stressing you out. Asked all sweet what was wrong, what you needed. And then you bared your teeth and snapped. And when plan A didn’t work, he opted to go with plan B.

He decided that you clearly didn’t know what you needed. That’s fine. He’ll help you figure it out. So he hauls you up, ignoring your thrashing and huffing. Ignores your threats, because you aren’t going to deliver on them, he’ll tire you out well before you can enact them.

He prefers to have taken you to bed, laid you out nice and comfy, let the duvet and pillows surround you. But when you’re like this, balled up and thrumming with an unnamed energy, any surface will do. He entertains the fight you put up when he finally lets you down. Kyle is more than capable of stopping you, but this little tussle helps tire you out, works out some of the excess before he even gets his mouth on you. Eventually, he’ll simply manhandle you into place, flipped onto your stomach with him pressed to your spine. His arm curled around your neck, not choking or restricting your breathing, but keeping you in place with the bulk of him, arm branded across your collarbone. All your spitting and hissing being ignored as he uses his free hand to force your bottoms out of the way.

Kyle will always argue that he’s doing this for you, that he’s taking care of you. But that little gasp you release when he first touches you, when the tension in your muscles releases just a bit, when your body realizes it’s finally getting what it needs? Yeah, that’s all for him.

He loves watching the fight begin to evaporate, as if you could never fathom why you tried to resist in the first place. The way your thighs part and your back arches, giving yourself up to him as arousal drips down his palm. When you go from fighting to trying to remember your manners, asking so sweetly for more. But you’re pinned beneath him with no where to go, no way to demand anything unless he willingly gives it to you.

“Thought you told me to fuck off, sweetheart?” He loves throwing your words back in your face, watching you whimper and shake your head, trying to deny them while you cling to him. And this is where he likes you, struggling to get any footing in edgewise and having to take what he gives you. When he can see all the reason dripping out of your ears and the only thing you can focus on is the feeling he’s giving you.

And when you finally cum for him, so pretty and breathless, he’s sure to praise you for it. He knows it isn’t easy letting go and allowing him take the reins. So he’ll be sure to make it worth your while, he has plenty of positions he wants you in, and surely you didn’t think he was stopping after only one?

#baby moth writes #cod imagines #cod gaz #cod gaz headcanons #Gaz cod #Kyle Gaz Garrick #cod kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod kyle garrick x reader #cod kyle x reader #cod kyle garrick #cod kyle gaz garrick

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yvaineseleneposts · 10 hours ago

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would you ever write singlemom!reader x Nico or anyone? 🥹

A/N: I hope this does your request justice, because I have no clue how to write singlemom!reader or any motherly fics

Requested: yes by @one-sweet-gubler

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Singlemom!Reader

Words: 2k

Warning(s): none (I think)

You weren’t looking for anything — especially not love — when you agreed to take your six-year-old son, Jamie, to his first Devils game. Hockey had always been something your ex loved, but Jamie had taken to it in his own way. Obsessed with jersey numbers and face-offs, he chattered endlessly about his favourite player: Nico Hischier.

“I like him because he’s the captain,” Jamie said solemnly, clutching his tiny Hischier jersey, too big for him but worn constantly. “And because he always skates fast, even when he’s tired.”

You smiled and ruffled his hair. “Then let’s hope he scores tonight.”

You didn’t expect to catch Nico’s eye. You certainly didn’t expect him to catch yours — not in a sold-out Prudential Center, not from your modest seats near the glass. But in the third period, after a hard-won goal, he skated by, met your gaze — and lingered.

Maybe it was just coincidence.

Except… after the game, a staff member tapped your shoulder and said, “Nico Hischier asked if you and your son would like to come down to meet him.”

You blinked. “Sorry, what?”

Jamie was beaming. You were stunned. And Nico? He was… surprisingly shy.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, crouching to Jamie’s height. “Nice jersey.”

Jamie couldn’t speak, just nodded, eyes wide.

Nico grinned, then looked up at you. “I hope this isn’t weird. I just—saw you in the stands. Thought your son might like this.” He handed Jamie a signed puck. “And maybe… I thought I’d like to say hi.”

You blinked again, heat rushing to your cheeks. “That’s very kind of you. He’s a big fan.”

“I can tell.” Nico’s voice softened. “And you?”

“I’m… more of a coffee fan,” you replied, half-joking. “But I’m warming up to hockey.”

He laughed, that boyish, crooked smile melting something in you you hadn’t realized was still frozen. “Maybe I could help with that. If you ever want to… grab that coffee.”

You hesitated. It had been a long time. You weren’t sure you remembered how to do this. But then you glanced at Jamie — who was still talking Nico’s ear off now — and realized you were already doing the hardest job in the world. Maybe you deserved something soft. Something sweet.

You nodded. “Okay. But only if you promise not to quiz me on power plays.”

“No promises,” he grinned.

Nico never rushed you. Never made you feel like your son was an obstacle. In fact, half your “dates” took place at playgrounds or pizza joints with booster seats. And somehow, he never minded.

“I like this,” he said once, after helping Jamie tie his skates. “It’s real.”

You weren’t used to real. But you were starting to crave it.

He kissed you on a Thursday. Lightly. Like a question. And for the first time in years, you said yes.

It had been three months since Nico kissed you. Three months since he'd officially become part of your orbit — not just yours, but Jamie’s too.

You'd worried, in the quiet of night, whether this was fair to Nico. Whether the weight of loving you and your child would be too heavy for someone with skates instead of roots.

But he never gave you reason to doubt. He showed up with hockey cards and coffee, sat through school plays with his arm around your shoulders, and texted you photos of Jamie napping in his lap after “movie night with the boys.”

So when he asked, "Will you come to the team family skate?" — it felt more like a milestone than an invitation.

You hesitated. “Won’t that be weird? I’m not a wife or a fiancée or—”

“You’re my person,” he said, voice low and sure. “That’s all anyone needs to know.”

The rink felt different when it wasn’t packed with roaring fans. Empty stands. Warm smiles. Players skating with toddlers holding onto their sticks for balance, wives wrapped in puffer coats, babies strapped to chests.

Nico had his hand wrapped around yours, Jamie bouncing beside him in his tiny Devils beanie.

“Are you sure you can skate?” Nico teased as you laced up your borrowed skates on the bench.

“Barely,” you muttered. “If I fall, you’re catching me.”

“Always,” he said, eyes soft.

You didn’t fall — not at first. You wobbled, held onto his arm like a lifeline. Jamie took to the ice like he was born for it, zig-zagging with more confidence than grace.

“You look good out here,” Nico said, smiling.

You raised a brow. “I look terrified.”

“Still good,” he murmured, leaning closer, brushing his lips against your cheek — public, tender, intentional. Like he wanted everyone to see.

That part surprised you most: how proud he was. How openly he loved you.

A woman skated by and gave you a warm smile. “You must be Nico’s girl. He talks about you all the time.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Good things, I hope?”

“The best. And that little guy?” She nodded toward Jamie. “Nico already calls him his shadow.”

Later, Nico was skating backwards, arms open, coaxing Jamie forward. “Come on, bud, bend your knees! I’ve got you!”

Jamie grinned, wobbled, then threw himself forward — Nico caught him, lifting him like he weighed nothing.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, watching them. A lump formed in your throat, thick and unfamiliar. Was it happiness? Relief? Hope?

He skated over with Jamie on his hip. “He says he wants to be captain when he grows up.”

You laughed, brushing snowflakes from Jamie’s beanie. “Ambitious.”

“He’s got good taste.” Nico looked at you — really looked. “So do I.”

Later, in the locker room hallway, Jamie sat sipping hot chocolate, wrapped in Nico’s extra hoodie that swallowed him whole.

Nico took your hand. “You okay?”

You nodded. “More than okay.”

He exhaled, nervous now. “I know this isn’t how most things start. But I’m not going anywhere. I want this—” he gestured toward the two of you, “—you, him, all of it.”

Your voice was barely a whisper. “Even the hard parts?”

“Especially those,” he said, stepping closer. “I want to be the guy who shows up. Always.”

You kissed him. And this time, it wasn’t soft or uncertain. It was a yes. A promise.

That night, as Jamie fell asleep in the car, Nico glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled.

“What?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Just thinking… he called me ‘my Nico’ today. Not Mr. Hischier. Not ‘the hockey guy.’ Just… mine.”

You rested your hand on his. “You are.”

Jamie’s cheeks were flushed, curls poking out from beneath his new youth team helmet. He skated wobbly but determined toward the bench, his jersey hanging off him like he was still growing into it — which he was. The name on the back read YourLastName — but Nico had joked they’d need to stitch Hischier underneath one day too.

“Nice hustle, bud!” Nico called out, kneeling on the ice in his Devils tracksuit, whistle hanging from his neck.

Jamie beamed.

You sat in the stands, watching the exchange. There was something deeply full-circle about it: Nico guiding Jamie through drills the same way he once coaxed him across the family skate rink months ago. Only now, there were other kids, other parents. And yet somehow, Nico made Jamie feel like the center of it all.

“He’s so patient with them,” one mom beside you said, watching Nico tap a kid’s stick and offer a quiet high-five. “He doesn’t act like he’s a star.”

You smiled softly. “He doesn’t have to act. That’s just who he is.”

But the season brought new challenges too.

Road trips got longer. Away games meant silence in group chats and phone calls that dropped before bedtime.

One night, Jamie padded into the living room in his pyjamas, clutching the stuffed hockey puck Nico had won him at a carnival.

“Is Nico coming home tomorrow?”

You hesitated. “Not tomorrow, buddy. Couple more days.”

Jamie’s lower lip trembled, but he nodded. “I just miss him.”

You pulled him into your lap, his weight familiar and comforting. “Me too.”

You hadn’t meant to say it. But it was true. When Nico was gone, it was like a light dimmed in your home — like something was always slightly off. You used to be good at being alone. You had to be. But now… now it just felt empty.

Two days later, Nico showed up with coffee and that smile. You opened the door before he knocked.

“Hi,” he said, soft and tired from travel.

“Hi,” you said back, trying not to launch yourself at him — and failing.

He wrapped his arms around you, face tucked into your neck. “Missed you.”

You closed your eyes. “Me too.”

Jamie came flying down the hallway, nearly skidding in his socks. “NICO!”

That was the best part — watching Nico drop his bag and scoop Jamie up like nothing else mattered. And maybe that was when it clicked. He was part of this life. Your life. Not just on weekends. Not just when the schedule allowed. He was woven into the fabric now.

Later that night, with Jamie asleep and your couch dimly lit by a single lamp, you curled into Nico’s side, finally speaking the truth that had been pressing on your chest for weeks.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to be two people,” you said quietly. “Nico the boyfriend. Nico the NHL captain.”

He turned to you, expression soft. “I’m not trying to be two people.”

“But you are doing it all,” you whispered. “And I know that’s not easy. But I also know… I want you here more. In my life. In Jamie’s life. Not just for skates and sleepovers and Sunday dinners.”

He looked at you then — really looked. Like your words had landed exactly where they needed to.

“I want that too,” he said, voice low. “I already feel like I live half here anyway.”

You gave a quiet laugh. “Then maybe it’s time we stop doing halves.”

He leaned forward, forehead against yours. “You mean it?”

You nodded. “Come home, Nico. For real.”

There was a beat. Then his hand slipped into yours, anchoring you.

“I was just waiting for you to say that.”

The next morning, Jamie bounded into the kitchen to find Nico making pancakes in his socks, whistling some cheesy pop song.

“You stayed over!” Jamie grinned, eyes wide.

Nico grinned back. “Think your mom’s gonna let me stay a lot more.”

Jamie didn’t even blink. “Good. You make better eggs anyway.”

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otsalezu · 2 days ago

Text

Dr. Pinington One Shot 2: Lobotomy Boogaloo

Credit to the amazing @babyblankyerror for the AU and the amazing @coniferouspines for the AU of the AU! I took some liberties with it but I hope you guys enjoy! Writing below the cut, as usual.

The living room was completely silent, save for the constant tapping of Stan’s finger on any nearby surface. The man’s fidgeting didn’t seem nervous, being almost subconscious if anything. In contrast, Ford sat uncomfortably still. He cursed himself for letting Fiddleford go out for groceries on his own. He’d simply been too awkward to join the man, and his research partner took no extra time escaping the strange faux doctor in the room.

The awkward silence gave Ford some extra time to examine just how much his brother had changed. The clothes, for one, were definitely out of place. Slightly tattered and stained, draped in a long lab coat. The silliness of the name tag and various cartoony designs stitched across the lab coat reminded him more of something his brother would have done when they were little. His hair was long and matted, as if it hadn’t been brushed in a long time. The signature curls it had once sported were completely gone. Even more worrying were the long stitches that seemed to cover his hands. They seemed expertly done, but Ford had no doubt he had done them himself. Various smaller scars littered his visible skin, barely standing out unless he squinted.

Most concerning was the eye. Pale blue, the pupil much too small. It stared ahead, as if looking past him. He tried not to say anything, but the gaze seemed to draw the question out of him. Before he could even think about what he was saying, he had blurted it out.

“What happened to your eye?” He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, but the man didn’t seem offended. If anything, his grin widened.

“Oh, that’s right! You wouldn’t know! Hmm…where do I start? Oh! Okay, let’s start with my old boss!”

“Your old boss removed your…?”

“No, nothing as crude as that! Let me finish, okay? So! I was a good worker, very good if I say so myself! But! I had a problem. You know me, Six. Always rebellious! Stubborn as a mule, that’s what ma always said! So my boss did a little research.”

Stan laughed, a disjointed and wheezy sound. Then, after a few coughs, his face twisted into a thoughtful expression.

“Say, brainiac, you know what a topectomy is?”

“Ah, I can’t say I do.”

“Hmm, that’s what I thought. Okay, do you know what a transorbital lobotomy is?”

The world seemed to screech to a halt. Nothing about his brother’s demeanor had changed, still the same eerie cheeriness as before. To Ford, however, he felt like throwing up. As if not noticing his brother’s change in demeanor, the doctor continued.

“Well, they needed to do it through the eye.”

He tapped the blue iris, grinning as if he;d just told a great joke.

“Isn’t it wonderful? It was all very experimental, of course. I wish they’d filmed it! Of course, I made it a bit difficult. For some stupid reason, I went down kicking and screaming. Weird, isn’t it? Well! They tried their best, but sadly I woke up in the middle. The doctor they hired wasn't a professional, not like me! So he startled easily, and…squish!”

Ford jumped at the onomatopoeia, cringing. His vision blurred slightly, as he processed what had just been told to him.

“Stan…”

“Of course, I thanked them all after. They all got free procedures!”

“Stan, you…”

“I got to take over that old doctor’s office. Very unprofessional, he barely even sterilized his station! But I was so much better than him, really. It was no big loss! But I’m not ungrateful. As thanks for him fixing me with his procedure, I modeled my new eye after his! Pretty, isn’t it? Wanna see it closer?”

“Stanley!”

The doctor startled, confusion flashing on his usually jovial face. Ford took in a ragged breath, swallowing the bile in his throat.

“Are you telling me someone tried to lobotomize you?”

“Well, yes! That’s what I just told you about. Always so silly, Sixer. But don’t look so sad! My hands have been so much steadier ever since! I’m twice the surgeon I was before!”

“Before?”

Stan opened up his lab coat, fishing out a photograph from one of the many mismatched pockets inside.

“Here! Take a look!”

The photo of Stan had two brown eyes, and significantly less stitches. He was standing near a few unfamiliar men, in what seemed to be a dingey excuse for a doctor’s office. He had the same wobbly smile on his face, though every part of his face seemed laced with fear. His hands were slightly blurry, as if they had been shaking when the photo was taken. Stan quickly stuffed the picture back in the pocket.

“What a wreck, right? I was horrible at my job! Just horrible! But now, I don’t get all anxious and shaky. You can trust me to perform any operation!”

“I’m so sorry. Stanley, I’m so—”

“Don’t apologize! It’s a bad picture, I understand!”

“That’s not—”

“Hey, why are we talking about my dumb old past! I’m much better now, that’s all that matters!”

Ford stared at his twin’s expression. It seemed just as happy as ever, but something about it was different. It was as if looking at the old photograph made him uneasy, uncomfortable. Ford didn’t understand it, but he didn’t want Stanley to be upset. Not after all he’d talked about. A pang of guilt rang out through him as he thought about how terrified he’d been just moments ago.

“Alright, Lee. We can talk about something else.”

The old childhood nickname made Stan’s face split into that unsettling grin, though it didn’t disturb Ford half as much anymore. He smiled a faint smile in return, sitting back down.

“Well, let me tell you about my first day in Gravity Falls…”

#stanley pines #gravity falls au #gravity falls #stan pines #stanford pines #gravity falls stanley #gravity falls fanfiction #Dr pinington #Dr pinington au #lobotomy #medical horror

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thebluediner · 11 hours ago

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HIIIII... anyways this is my first time requesting a fic so I hope this makes sense and if it doesn't just try and bare with me . okay so let's say reader and Billie are dating but media doesn't know about it until like the Met Gala where reader and Billie are kinda matching outfits ( maybe Billie's met gala outfit from 2023 and Emma Chamberlain met gala outfit from 2024 idk they looked a little similar in my head ) and like Billie gets taken to do an interview at the met gala and like gives subtle hints that her and reader might be dating and you can do whatever else you want with the rest of the fic ( also you can make the met gala whatever year you want it to be )

a/n: hiiiii baby, I hope you like it (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) finished this up just in time with the met gala this year. I know you waited so long lovie but I hope you love it

𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙢 #𝟱

𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨, 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙚𝙮𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤'𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙩, 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙪𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠. 𝘼𝙡𝙨𝙤, 𝙬𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙢𝙚.

time: the day of the met gala

you stood in the middle of the hotel room your hands intertwined and placed on your front looking over at the window at the sunny blue skied day. it's was quiet and stunning you always liked weather like that it's made you feel safe. it reassured you how you could wear anything without covering it up with a jacket or something for reasons like " just in case it rains" that made you feel free. your eyes blinked when a sharp pain pierced your skin.

someone muttered an apology before their hand pats over the hurting part of your body reminding you were you were. the tranquil space you thought you were in suddenly disappeared and replaced with reality.

you were in a luxurious five star hotel located in new york that carried probably every other guest of the met gala. there was chaos around you.

one of your many hairstylists took control of the assessing the type of hairstyle you would go for because by the looks of it the others didn't know how to deal with your type of hair. so that resulted in gel , combs , small brushes , water , extensions and much more than you could comprehend being brought over.

your dress finally found its way right in front of your eyes. your doe brown orbs traced the material inspecting it of any faults that would appear in the lens of the many cameras that would be surround you later that day. originally it had a pink lace under-top that it went with but it didn't speak to you so you got it removed.

when you look at this dress you don't regret it because it's the most beautiful thing you've seen but the moment the thought passes blue ocean eyes with the perfect eyelashes , pretty button nose and the most kissable lip come to mind and you wasted no time in rethinking your judgement. the thought brings an uncontrollable smile and blush to your face.

the stylist smiles at you with some kind of knowing eyes but instead of teasing you or anything she hands the dress over to you so you could wear it. the material lands in your hands and you swear a huff escapes your lips because you didn't expect it to be that heavy. the people around you giggle at your wide eyes reacting to your stylist.

she leads you to another room to get changed but she stays outside in case you need anything from her. you felt like a little girl when you slipped your phone to try and send some kind of text to her.

-billie my dress is so heavy wtf

-okay that was totally an excuse to talk to you

-but anyways I miss you already

-man my dress is so tight

-I had a feeling about that but I miss you too my love

-I'm gonna try and not pounce on you when I see you tonight

you giggled reading the message which you instantly regretted forgetting your stylist was waiting for you a couple of feet away. you eyes look at the dress you've placed on the bed knowing time isn't going to be your friend if you keep being a lovesick puppy. you groan a bit before typing in some words to billie.

-fuck okay wait I need to actually get dressed

-I'll see you later sexy

-I love you and good luck out there

you threw your phone on the bed before hurrying to get into the dress. it took a few grunt and yelps before you were able to slip into it. you opened the door for the stylist to hook on the ribbons and pull them as tight as possible to define your waists more. a scream escaped your lips causing a couple of eyes to peak and see the commotion all for them to laugh at the realisation.

you knew you liked the dress and hopefully the media will too but more importantly you hoped billie would love it. you weren't going to the carpet together but separately so you would meet later inside the venue.

time flew the sunny days turned into a sunset and by that time your hair was done and you felt like a member of a royal family. glasses of champagne were served around the room just to ease the nerves and celebrate the work done so far. soo enough you were being escorted out of the room through the hallways which was way too small for the puff of your dress which caused shuffling sounds throughout the long pathway. getting into the elevator was worse since you discovered only one other person could fit in with you.

once you reached the lobby you wet met with a bunch of men in tuxedos carrying wildly decorated umbrellas from the early ages. you turned back to your assistant and stylist in question at the random men. your assistant instantly froe realisation she forgot to mention the last minute planning but your manager saved the day when she quickly briefed you on the plan. upon explanation these men where going to surround you i attempt to hide you and the dress from the cameras outside the hotel.

it was definitely fun hearing the screaming around when you wet outside covered in ruffled lacy parasols matching your dress just to be kept a secret until the very red carpet leading up the stairs though it was obvious sitting down the car seats was harder than you thought so you more so slouched.

''do not rush into that building without spending at-least twenty minute on the carpet'' you manger instructs you as if she could read your mind and knew the plan.

''excuse me... I was not going to do that'' you huff rolling your eyes but then silence enveloped the scene. your eyes traced back to the women accompanying you in the car.

''no really I was not...'' yet they still gave you questionable glances making you sigh in defeat.

''okay yeah maybe but I won't any more promise'' you say with a foolish smile being caught guilty. you picked up the tiny model of a pink hat placing it on your head before turning to them to ask an opinion. with their thumbs up you pace it to be a bit more firm so it won't fall out

when you arrived at the events there were people all around the venue screaming it's was crazy. the moment your vans door slid open you were gently guided down paying great mind to your shoes and the mobility the dress provided. from the other van the men assembled in front of you pulling our the matching parasols acting as your companions more than bodyguard. it was funny and definitely a concept to play into.

the moment people around got a glimpse of you the screams roared and pierced through the venue. people were shouting your name for recognition, some yelling over to compliment you and some purely for your existence. the dress cascaded over your feet brushing onto the carpet as it flowed onto the ground leading you onto the main carpet. when you got there you realised so many other celebrities have entered way before you as some were already headed towards the doors.

you didn't see her but she definitely felt the air switch when you entered. billie was way above the stairs standing tall on her platform heels and tight corset pushing her breast up she looked to die but you hadn't seen that yet. she was busy with her interview with a journalist from a big media company but somehow billie couldn't hear anything she said the moment she saw your figure down the stairs. the camera totally caught the moment of total loserism she just displayed but with a little pat from the journalist she seem to find a way out of the trance.

''sorry... it's so busy it's easy to get distracted'''billie muttered an excuse for her behaviour but there was a reason this journalist was from a big company she was the best, maybe a little too much.

'' you know we've realised you like being associated with her'' the woman didn't have to mention your name and that made billie feel a bit too excited. so of-course that cheeky lip bite and a flashing smile slipped

'' who wouldn't she's a very beautiful and talented woman'' billie says her eyes always finding you just like the cameras flashing each second.

'' that's really kind of you billie, you wouldn't mind us relaying that to her when she comes up the stars would you ''

''not at all let my girl know how pretty I think she is'' that was a total slip up but billie didn't let it show though it shocked her as well. with a quick smile and her eyes scanning were you were for the millionth time before she accepted finneas's hand to guide her up the stairs joining the main event.

not later than a couple of minutes later you found yourself in the palms of the same journalist. you exchange pleasantries and a few girly screams at each others outfits.

'' whatever this is I love it girl way to fit in into the theme'' she says pointing to the men that surrounded you with parasols covering you at every angle possible.

'' ah! thank you babes the creative directors knew the vision very well''

'' you know who else saw your vision?'' she said teasing with her cameraman even laughing along with her.

'' girl who?'' you asked throwing a skeptical look at her not knowing what's coming in next.

''billie eilish was here a couple of minutes ago and asked me to really her message of how beautiful and talented her girl is''

you weren't aware of the look on your face but the camera picked up the way the corners of your lips twitched into a bigger smile at the mention of billie alone with some shy laughs which you covered with your hands hovering above your face trying to hide it.

'' she's very sweet can't wait to see her inside'' the way your heart pounded against your chest at the thought of her made you grow a little impatient.

'' you two are sure excited to see each other'' she said in a way that made you think she knew something you didn't

''pretty girl are always my favourite you know that'' you admitted even though you might've been revealing a little too much. after the interview you gave her a playfully curtsy before you and your companions rised up the stairs.

when you arrived up the stairs you were met with your assistant and manager once again. they quickly thanked the men around you which you did the same without a fail to mention the fun you had with them before they drifted away in polite smile leaving you alone. with a few words of encouragement and warnings to not get carried away with the drinks in there they pushed you into the gala.

yours eyes didn't even bother to look around and admire the interior design and the archived designs you were after one person. your eyes searched frantically around the room to no avail well until you felt a hand on your exposed shoulder. when you turned you eyes turned to lighter ones leaving you with a rushing of excitement.

'' oh my lady way to bless us with your beauty this evening'' billie said with a copy of the english accent trying to fit the role as she complimented you in awe going as far as throwing in a curtsy.

'' well thank you my lady though I see more beauty in you this fine evening'' you gave her her own set of compliments your hands squeezing hers in excitement with a giggle at her antics

the night was going to be long but at-least you were going to be with her from here on, even for the after party.

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sylviestarlightwrites · 2 days ago

Text

My girl

@frankies-girl requested… “i love frank sorry💔💔💔 maybe something to do with… frank and the reader were unlikely acquaintances (she takes care of his wounds, or he’s their bodyguard, something along those lines). reader meets some guy at a bar or something and frank becomes ridiculously jealous of them.

cw: men are creeps all the time forever, you can feel the pining through the screen bro, language

a/n: First of all, never apologize for who you are beautiful I’ve got you covered. And then for everyone else I really recommend you read The Nurse and the Punisher before this, they’re a little tied together.

word count: (637)

You were just the girl who patched up Frank after a rough night of being the Punisher. No more. No less.

One kiss was all it took for his protective instincts to go into overdrive.

He wants nothing more than to make sure that his little personal nurse is safe. Being the Punisher puts a target on his back since he isn’t exactly operating a legal job, but that puts a target on you, who so kindly takes care of him, too. You kissed him once and he’d do anything to make sure that target stays far far away from you and all on him. But there’s only so much he can do, he can guard you from the consequences of being an ally to the Punisher, but he can’t shield you from everything forever.

He was at a bar, not quite drinking away his troubles - he never got that drunk - but just dulling the pain of a night as the Punisher. The guy got a few good hits in before Frank blew his brains out. And to his pleasant surprise, you were sitting there across the bar, running your finger around the rim of your glass. You looked particularly exhausted, probably a rough day at the hospital, probably here for the same reason Frank was. To drown it out the best you could without getting wasted.

He was trying his hardest not to be a creep, but he found himself staring. He hadn’t seen you wear something other than your scrubs given that you usually saw him right after work. It was nice to see you in your own clothes. To Frank’s dismay, a man approached you, leaning against the bar counter. Frank could feel something bubbling up in his chest. An attractive young man, talking to you? God what was this…?

Jealousy.

Pure unbridled jealously.

“Can I offer you a drink, sweetheart?” The guy said, his New York accent coming out thick.

“No thank you,” you reply, trying to scoot away without being obvious.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” he said, getting a little too close. Frank was already on his feet. “Any drink you want, my treat.”

“I already told you, no,” you say, a little exasperated now.

“And I’m not buying it-“ he didn’t get a chance to get through a full sentence before Frank had him shut up. Just by setting a hand on his shoulder. And you’re eyeing him like he’s your savior.

“She already told you no, jackass,” Frank says harshly. He’s bigger than this guy by a bit, any smart individual would be packing right now. The guy just shoves his hands in his pockets, rolls his eyes and walks away. Jealous or not, Frank wouldn’t just sit by and let you get harassed. “Want me to walk you home doll?” You nod without another thought, grabbing your bag as he pays the bartender for his drink and you two get out of there.

The walk was quiet, not much needed to be said. Until you were outside your apartment and you just had to speak up.

“Did you tell that guy off because he was nothing me or just because you were jealous?” you ask, somewhere between teasing and genuinely wanting to know his thought process. Frank showing his hands into his pockets, his thumbs sticking out.

“Why can’t it be both?” He replies, keeping the same level of half joking with you. It was truly a bit of both for him. You laugh softly at the answers, looking at the ground then back up at him.

“Good night, Frank,” you say softly. You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, before disappearing into the apartment building you live in. And he’s watching and he’s sure now that he’s absolutely bagged you.

#fanfiction #x reader #frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #600-700 words

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elfwreck · 3 days ago

Text

Any LEGIT company or government agency - IRS, the sheriff's office, your bank, a bookstore, Uber, a local restaurant, Amazon, law firm, Secret Prize Giveaway Org, Google, your phone company - ANY of them - will be perfectly happy with giving you a number to return the call at your convenience.

They may warn you "this thing on your account is going to go through tomorrow." But they will give you a number in case right now you are, y'know, in the middle of cooking something and your attention is focused on FIRE and BOILING WATER. Or you are driving. Or you in the bathroom. Or on your roof cleaning the rain gutters and can't really concentrate on anything else.

There are a thousand reasons you may not be able to deal with an important phone call right this minute, and any legit source knows that and has a plan to let you call them when it's easy for you.

(This is, by the way, how you can tell all the "beg for money for politics" calls are not legit: you can't call them when you have time. They are planning on pressuring you RIGHT NOW. They will sometimes offer to call you back - they will not give you contact info so you can call them.)

For ANY "hey this thing is going wrong, you must FIX IT" call... ask for contact info - a phone number, a case ID number, possibly the name of a case worker, and tell them you'll call them back when you don't have your hands full.

For financial things, as noted, ignore the number they give you (write it down in case it becomes relevant), and use official sources to get the correct number: the org's website, your card, or something like that. If the number they gave you doesn't match the area code & first three digits of that number (in the US), it's likely a scam. If it does - call the main number anyway. They can give you a specific agent's contact info, if that's needed.

(I once got a call from someone claiming I was facing felony charges in another state and he was going to represent me. I asked why I hadn't received them in the mail, and he said they had the wrong address but the trial was TODAY in AN HOUR and he needed me to give him a small fee so he could represent me. I asked him what the charges were (some weird kind of financial fraud, I think), and what courthouse the trial was happening in, so I could call them and point out I lived over a thousand miles away and hadn't been notified. ...He hung up.)

My mom got phished in an EXTREMELY refined scam that pretty much anyone could fall for-- basically her account was already pre-hacked and they spoofed the bank's number exactly, called her pretending there was fraud, and read back legitimate and fake transactions and personal info so she wouldn't suspect they weren't the bank. Then discouraged her from logging in claiming the account was locked so they could investigate the fraud-- all so she wouldnt catch them making massive purchases using her stolen info.

We have the same boss and when she told him what happened he recommended she call the bank directly, so she did and they managed to catch it in time before $20k of transactions went through. Very scary

I guess the lesson here is never ever answer your phone, I love that fraud is so rampant an entire form of mass communication is now useless

ANYONE can fall for phishing scams- my mom is extremely smart and we discuss common scams that target her age demographic and she still fell for this. If it happened to me I may have fallen for it too. Always be careful!

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deadundedwhatsitmater · 2 days ago

Text

Part 1 (Danny's Rough Day)

Danny was having a rough day. First, he was up till 3 am chasing some Ectopodes causing trouble in the school. Then showed up late to school (again!) He was doing so much better this year too! It’s his third tardy so he’s got detention after school. His parents were working with the GIW and he still hasn't found any good evidence of what kind of weapon they’re making! He doesn't have time for detention. It's been 3 weeks of them working together and hacking into the GIW didn't prove very useful since the projects were not uploaded, it seemed bad, like they are tryna keep it under lock’n’key for some reason. He’s so close to the exit, that he’ll skip today. It might land him with more detention but he needs to figure out what his parents and the GIW are up to before it's too late. But alas! Before he could make a run for it Mr. Lancer turns the corner and smiles as he insists on escorting Danny to detention. So here he sits in detention, watching the clock tick seconds off with bouncing knees and fidgety hands.

Finally, detention is over, He races to the door, bolting towards home, before he makes it. Amity GIW alarms blare across town and his phone buzzes with a phone call. Tuc-Tuc his phone screen reads, he answers. “Tucker wha-”

“Danny! I need you to listen to me..um-shit I don't know how to tell you…”

“Tell me what Tuc? Don't leave me hanging, are you ok?”

“Danny, your parents, they..”

“What do you mean? My parents? Did Dad hit someone with the GAV?”

“They’re dead”

“What? Common Tucker this is serious”

“ No, Danny the GIW, the weapon your parents were helping with… malfunctioned? I- I don't know, ok but it’s bad and I can’t tell you, it’s all over the news, I don’t know what to do.”

His breath hitches, What?

“I don’t understand-I gotta go” He hangs up the call and pulls up the news app, they’re near the lake. A blur of red is shown on the news broadcast. He transforms faster than he ever has and is up and racing towards the lake, invisibility and intangibility so he has straight shot from here to the lake. And Oh too suddenly is he there, oh god here's there. He can hardly take in the scene, 3 Ambulances, and 6 cop cars surround the small clearing near the lake, Emts, Paramedics, cops, and detectives run around all having a job to do, whether it's taking GIW Agent away in handcuffs or taking in the injured. Danny can hardly think as his eyes finally zero in on his parents or what's left of them he thinks to himself. People surround them specifically. He stares, watching as people take evidence and clean up what's left of his parents. He should probably call Jazz. Wait Call? He looks down and his phone is buzzing with a call from Sam, he doesn’t answer, he can hardly move. He watches as it finally ends and sees he has 27 missed calls from Pharaoh, 38 from the Goth, and 65 calls from Fruitloop. His phone buzzes, it's Tucker. “Danny?”

“Hmmm”

“Oh my god. Are you at the scene?” I can’t answer that “It’ll be ok, I just need to call Jazz, can you tell Sam I need a moment, come over later or something, and block Vlad for me... Please?” “ I- ok yeah, can do . But Danny, I’m here, me and Sam are both here for you ok? We’ll be over tonight.”

“Ok, Goodbye Tucker” “Bye Danny”

With that, he ends the call, and before he can back out he hits Jazz’s contact, it only rings once. “ Danny? I saw the news, the quickest flight takes off in 3 hours, I’m on my way little brother” She’s on her way. Jazz will know what to do, and she always knows what to do when it’s important. I need her more than anything right now. I just have to wait for Jazz and everything will be fine. Maybe it’s just all a bad dream? Yea a nightmare, if nocturn got me again-

“Danny, it’s not a nightmare, but it’ll be ok. I’ll be there as soon as I can, I want you to get home, I love you little brother” She sounds so calm, I don't know how she does it, how is she functioning. I gotta say something “I love you too Jazzy-Pants” He choked at the end but Jazz ignored it to keep telling him that it’ll be ok, that she’ll be there soon, that he’s not alone, she loves him, and that he is allowed to feel however and whatever he feels right now but I don’t feel anything and that's just the worst part isn’t it? Shouldn’t I be sad? Shouldn’t I be angry the GIW killed my parents Yet Danny just stands still staring at the carnage that's been left, he feels empty and it’s so much worse. Is he so volatile he isn’t even upset by his parents being murdered? They’re gone and he is just staring at the remains. I’m a monster But Jazz’s voice brings him back as she rambles on, comforting him, and oh how he needs her right now.

Eventually, he ends the call with his sister, telling her Sam and Tucker are waiting. He flies back home head empty, as he robotically flies home and through his roof into his room, not yet ready to face reality.

#dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #not dpxdc yet #it'll get there #Part 1 #character death

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