#if you come up with anything please don't hesitate to drop it in the comments!! :D

[grayintogreen]

HELLO FELLOW NEIN AGAIN ENJOYERS. And happy Tombtakers Loredrop Day. Today I bring you a preview of a long term event coming this summer.

Are you sad that all the enticing lore dropped in CR2 episode "Fleeting Memories" might as well be an eternity away from bearing fruit? Did you think Cree was a fun NPC and wanted more of her? Are you a fan of fix-it fanfic that barely fixes anything and in fact just makes everything a little bit worse?

Well, I have something you might enjoy!

In honor of Nein Again reaching episode 26 on the day of LitMoR's fourth anniversary, I'm going to be running a weekly "bookclub" for the series to run parallel with Nein Again starting July 29th. You can find the full schedule for the entire duology, plus side stories and intermissions here (more dates to be added depending on where I get with the third mega novel and yet it's still going to take less time to get through than Nein Again). It runs exactly like Nein Again, only its a really long fanfic.

And you may be asking yourself? Uh, what's LitMoR? And I'm GLAD YOU ASKED.

life in the margins of redemption is a post-episode 26 canon divergent series I started writing four years ago after the end of Campaign Two to satiate my incredible need to retell the story but slightly to the left, keeping dead characters alive, making certain plot threads and themes more prevalent, and exploring some elements from the campaign that I thought were underdeveloped simply because those just weren't the things the cast wanted to focus on (and that is valid- this is in no way me going HERE'S MY BETTER VERSION OF CANON, it's a love letter to wanting more of these characters). At 1.6 million words and the main two stories of the duology remaining in the top three longest fics in the CR tag even after all these years, it is an absolute chonker and I'm still adding to it. It's a story that is very close to my heart and I thought it would be fun for people to either re-read or discover it while taking it in in bite-size chunks as you watch how it diverges from canon and goes off in wild new directions.

Below the cut is an FAQ ranging from what you can expect to the story to how the book club will be run if you'd like to participate. If there are any other questions, please don't hesitate to send me an ask! I look forward to seeing how this goes. Hopefully it'll be fun for the people who would love an excuse to reread and for new readers alike.

WHY ARE YOU DOING IT?

I've been told numerous times by people that LitMoR looks interesting, but is ultimately very daunting and intimidating. By promoting a book club, I hope that maybe those people who have wanted to read it will find it easier to do so. Also a lot of people who have read it thought it would be cool to do.

WHAT WILL WE BE DOING?

Whatever you like! You can read the assigned chapter and go "that's nice" and never do anything else. You can leave a comment on AO3! You can join my Discord and talk about it with other people. You can talk about it on tumblr. You can not do any that at all and instead do some secret additional thing. It's really up to you how you engage with it. I just ask that you be polite about it. It's all in fun.

WHAT IF I DON’T LIKE IT?

Back button. I really don't expect this to be a huge thing- it's just something that I'm proud of and want to share it with others and if there's a way to share it that makes it easier on people to read, that's great! But I will not be coming to your house and demanding you give me my flowers. I just ask, again, that you be nice. If it's not for you, it's not for you.

WHAT CHARACTERS DOES THIS FOCUS ON?

This is an ensemble story, so while there are significant narrative beats dedicated to Molly, Cree, and eventually Lucien, every character is given a chance to shine and have their own subplots and arcs. A lot of arcs still play out as they did in canon, but under radically different circumstances and in new ways and some characters whose personal growth wasn't focused on as much even get some additional layers.

WHAT IS THE SHIPPING/ROMANCE VIBE LIKE?

My rule of thumb is that if you absolutely despise any of the ships listed, this series isn't for you, but if you're indifferent at worst, you'll probably be okay, because the shipping is on par with how canon treats it- i.e. it's part of some characters' arcs, but it does not derail the plot nor does the romance override other relationships. Everyone is still intensely weird about one another, regardless of whether or not they are kissing.

EXPLAIN THE RATING

The rating is for violence, gore, intense situations, and a lot of mindfuckery, but I wouldn't say any of it is atypical of what you would see in canon. The tags represent anything that comes up more than once, but if something is specific to a chapter, I will usually put it in the author's notes.

WHAT TAGS SHOULD I USE IF I WANT TO POST ABOUT IT?

LitMoR, LitMoR bookclub or life in the margins of redemption are good tags to use! I would avoid using canon CR tags unless you're just really into them for organizational purposes so to not to annoy people who aren't here for this. I'm trying to make this as fun and hassle-free for all sides of the line. I will only be using the CR tags for this post and the starting post and every subsequent bookclub post after will be tagged with the series name or "LitMoR bookclub" to keep things tidy and not annoying so you can either follow me or the LitMoR bookclub tag for updates.

WILL THIS SPOIL FUTURE EPISODES?

If you are aware of things that are coming up narratively even if you don't know the details, then you should be okay, because for the first few weeks OUADYA will follow pretty close to canon before it wildly diverges and doesn't pick up canon events until much, much later. If you want ZERO spoilers ever, then you might wanna sit it out, because while it does take lore in a different direction and does operate under its own thing, it will likely spoil a lot of things for you.

I have heard that it's possible to enjoy the fic if you haven't seen the full campaign if you don't care about utterly spoiling yourself! If you decide to stop watching after episode 26 for... reasons, it is actually fully able to be enjoyed with just that context.

HOW CANON COMPLIANT IS THIS?

It does not consider TNEOL or Molly and Caduceus's Origins comics canon (the first story was written before any of them came out), and does, again, take things in wildly different directions and has intense, deep, and maybe not exactly what was intended by Matt and the cast, lore, on top of occasionally throwing out certain spell rules that get in the way of good storytelling (like Doric's infinite wildshapes in the Dungeons & Dragon movie). I do have it on good authority that my characterization is pretty damn accurate, but you'd have to ask the frequent readers to weigh in on that.

Also shockingly, I have accidentally predicted a lot of canon events, which is very funny.

[romanarose]

oooo I got a worst Logan blurb for you if that’s okay. But Logan with a new girlfriend that treats him like he’s her absolute world. Like maybe they’ve been dating for a few months, enough for it to be serious, and they’re both involved in each other’s lives pretty significantly. But she just really cares for him, genuinely, and not to overwhelm him, but he’s the background on her phone, and she’ll put him first compared to other important things in her life. Just super sweet and fluff. Feel free to change anything, thank you

Absolutly!!! I love this Idea!!!!

Whole World

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Logan loved coming home. Even better, he loved having a home to come to in the first place, and he loved his girlfriend that was so freshly living with him that her boxes were still unpacked, and several heavy ones were still in his truck bed.

Logan calls your name, and within a second he hears the pitter patter of your feet running, scampering down the stares and around the corner.

"LOGAN!!!" You're face brightens immidiatly and so does his day. You looked so cute, little blue jeans peaking out from under a big shirt, and mismatched goofy socks on your feet. You run to him, and Logan doesn't hesitate to pick your up and spin you around.

"Heya baby, how was your day?" He asks when he settles down, staying carrying you. Your legs lock around his waste as he takes you to the kitchen.

He sets you down on the counter. "Good! Got a lot unpacked, Sorry, I meant to have dinner ready." You pout, but he just chuckles, reaching around you to turn on the oven.

"You were busy, don't be sorry. Besides, I can cook too."

"You're making frozen pizza, aren't you?"

"Always." He grabs a pop tart packet.

You whine a little. "You need real food! You work hard."

"So do you, baby." Logan plops the pop tart in your mouth. "Now, talk to me while I 'Cook.' Been wait'n all day to hear your voice."

So you did. As the pizza cooked you watched as he nailed some pictures to the walls, nodding his head and occasionally making little comments, even as you caught him up on the newest episode of the bachelorette.

"I can't believe Tyler did that." He played along with your chatter. He was really so perfect. Your loving man did so much for you, he was your everything. He worked hard, did all the silly romance stuff like buy you flowers and you liked to think you returned the favor. Logan came before everything else, not that he asked for it. He asked for so little, and sometimes it hurt your heart that he didn't ask for more. Did he not understand he deserved the whole world?

After dinner, you guys go outside for a peaceful evening of some yard work. You wanted a garden, so Logan had been working o tearing up some of the lawn and creating a border. Meanwhile, you weeded the backyard, the two of you just listening to music together. When Logan takes off his shirt, you stare at him, hard. Tense, rippling muscles dripping with sweat, moving and flexing all for you. He deserved a treat.

"I'm gonna head inside, Lo."

"Okay baby, I'll be inside in a few, gonna get this section done."

You knew he'd say that. Gave you the perfect opportunity.

15 minutes later when Logan trudged upstairs, he called your name. "Where'ya at?"

"In here!" You call from the bathroom. When Logan entered, he found you in there, grinning up at him. The bathroom was dark except for the scented candles, gentle music playing.

Logan smiles down at you. "Whatcha planning here, bub?"

You rock on your heals. "I was thinking... you worked so hard today... maybe I give you a nice relaxing bath... I can wash you, if you let me..."

His perfect girl, so eager to please, Logan takes you into his arms, kissing the top of you're head. "Only if you join me?"

So you did. You got in the tub with him, dropping some lavender oils in but not to much to overwhelm his nose, and washed him with your loofa. You even take your exfoliater and scrub him down, even massages his feet. Logan had installed a detachable shower head, so you straddled his hips and even washed his hair. While letting the conditioner you insisted on work on his dark locks, you simply rest on his chest in a hug. He was so touch starved, you knew, years of isolation until he met Wade, but you were going to make up for that. Your were going to make up for every day he felt alone. Logan's hands cupped the water, drawing it up your back where it trickles down again, keeping you warm.

"You're perfect, you know that?" Logan mumbled into your ear.

"Hmmmm.... mid." You joke, but Logan wasn't taking it. He pulled you back, cupping your face and looking directly in your eyes.

"Not funny." Logan admonishes. "I want you to say it. Say, I'm perfect."

You knew better than to argue with him. So, you just smile. "I'm perfect. Your turn."

Logan chuckles. "Good girl. I'm perfect. You happy?"

You rest on his chest again. "Very."

[whoreforsexymen]

Strong Drinks & Broken Links 🍺⛓️‍💥 CH. 1

Gray Hair & The Absence of Care

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairing(s): Vander x Reader

Pronouns: GN!Reader (for now— please see this post for details)

Rating: SFW, except for strong language and consumption of alcohol (drink responsibly, people). Reader is old enough to drink, despite what Vander thinks.

Word count: 4.7k (the rest are going to be far longer, so be prepared)

Tags: Slowburn, Reader is implied to be 21+ years old, Age Gap, Heavy Use Of Language/Alcohol, Reader might be a little too angsty (I’m sorry), Tense Situations, Vander being the caring mentor type he is but in a poorly thought out way.

Notes: I don't think I've ever posted a fic on this account. So, welcome to my only outlet for the brain rotting obsession I have for this man. ALSO I SWEAR TO GOD NO ONE MENTION ANYTHING ABOUT SEASON 2, OR I'LL FIGHT YOU.

((If any of you want to be added to a tag list for this fic, please lmk!! Ask box is also open for requests/suggestions/comments 🤍 feedback is always appreciated 🤍🤍))

It had been a terrible night so far.

Not only had you been shortchanged more than two-thirds of the agreed-upon pay for a job you’d completed—but that paltry sum had quickly slipped from your grasp entirely, taken by a gang of thugs.

You had to give the undercity credit—it had an uncanny ability to remain a perpetual cesspool. You’d managed to take down two of the muggers, but the third—the one who’d made off with your coin—had slipped away while you were dealing with the others. Just your luck. The payout had been pathetic to begin with, and now you were left with nothing but the bitter taste of failure. It looked like you’d be scraping the dregs of the city to find enough for your next meal, yet again. 

That is, unless you decide to drink your dinner. As well as your sorrows, in the process. The idea struck you as you neared the central bar of the undercity, still sulking as you were making your way back to the shack you called home. The Last Drop. A name that said it all. If there was any place where the undercitizens of Zaun gathered, it was here. No doubt the owner had to be the wealthiest man in the area, though that wasn’t exactly saying much in a place like this. 

You made your decision. A warm meal might be out of reach, but liquor could suffice—if you drank heavily enough, that is. Or at the very least, it might dull the sting of the night’s failures. 

The bar was an eyesore, a hulking building among the rundown structures of The Lanes. A garish neon sign blinked above the entrance, buzzing like an angry fly, casting sickly light on the grime-streaked pavement. Inside, the din of loud music and the clatter of drunken chatter spilled into the street. It was a haven for folks with any background, no matter if they sought business or pleasure within its walls. 

You pushed through the door, noting how no one even bothered to glance your way. That was how you liked it—under the radar, always out of sight, always out of the mind of untrustworthy beings. 

Then again, you didn’t trust anyone anyway.

You duck and weave through the crowd of rowdy patrons, eyes scanning the bar for a table or booth at which you could hunker down and nurse your drink in peace. Your frown deepens beneath the hood of your jacket when you come up empty-handed. Typical. No matter, though. You’d have to order at the bar anyway, regardless of where you sat.

It’s when your eyes settle in the direction of the bar that luck seems to briefly shine upon you—there’s an empty stool. Without hesitation, you make a beeline for it, not wanting some drunken fool to snag it before you could. You practically dive-bomb onto the seat, landing with a small grunt, air knocked from your lungs. After the night you’ve had, this stool feels like an oasis, despite the new absence of oxygen beneath your chest. You settle into it like it’s the only thing left in the world, clutching the seat as if someone might try to commandeer it if you let your guard down low enough.  

The realization dawns on you that, in order to get a drink, you’d have to interact with the bartender. You hold that fact in high regard with contempt. 

Chit-chat? Not tonight– or truthfully any night. You’ve never been crazy about casual conversation. The events of the evening have only soured your mood further, and the last thing you need is some eager bartender trying to make nice. Normally, you’d avoid sitting at the bar for that reason alone, yet here you are.

Thankfully, the bartender pays you no mind, his attention fully set on the patron he’s currently tending to. That is, until said patron leaves and the barman finally turns to you, his new source of focus. 

The sheer momentum with which you rolled your eyes almost knocked you out of your seat. 

“Welcome to The Last Drop. What’ll it be?” His voice is deep, and heavy, garnering a thick accent that clung to every word. 

He’s an older man, though exactly how old is hard for you to pin down. His hair’s gray, his eyes tired, the lines of age having etched themselves into his face long ago. However, there’s something youthful about him—something that makes it hard to tell whether he’s an old-looking thirty or a young-ish fifty. Frankly, you don’t care enough to continue your mental evaluation of him. Age shouldn’t matter when it comes to bartenders. They either know how to pour a decent drink, or they don’t.

You don’t waste time with pleasantries.

“Something strong.” You mutter, your voice mostly flat, but with a hint of irritation that danced along the edge.

The bartender scratches at his graying beard, his gaze thoughtful as he considers your request. You grit your teeth, hoping he won’t try to scam you by giving you something weak and overpriced, just to line his pockets with your hard-earned coin. You’d seen it happen to others, and you’d be a damned fool if you let it happen to you. 

The bartender studies your face, or at least what he can see of it beneath your hood, before his gaze shifts to the shelves beneath the counter. After a moment of deliberation, he selects a bottle with thoughtful ease, pulling the cork out with his teeth. With his free hand, he grabs a tin cup and pours in a copious amount, sliding it toward you with a swift flick of his wrist. You’d almost call it a generous decision on his part, considering the fact that you hadn’t even paid your dues first. His choice to serve you first goes a long way in easing your suspicion, at least for the moment.

You dig into your pocket, retrieving the few gold coins you’d managed to hold onto when dealing with the aforementioned thugs. They weren’t enough for one measly meal, but they were enough for a drink or two– or three, but who’s going to keep track? Certainly anyone but you. You’d only stop once your pitiful wealth ran out. Without a second thought, you toss them onto the bar top, making it unspokenly clear to the bartender that you were hoping for much more than just this one drink. You grab the cup, lifting it to your lips and downing the lot of it in one quick, greedy gulp. The warmth spreads through you almost immediately, and it feels like a small victory over the obnoxious turn your night has taken.

The bartender watches this with a faint chuckle before you slam the empty cup back down onto the counter. He takes it without a word, refills the tiny tin chalice, and begins passing it back. Without missing a beat, you grab the cup from him, draining the contents in a second gulp before he even has time to set the bottle back down. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” he remarks casually, his voice low and steady as he finally reunites the bottom of the bottle with the countertop. 

“I’ve seen a lot of things.” you mutter, your eyes fixed on anything but him. The words come out flat, though there’s a weight to them. It’s more than just a refusal to talk—it’s a refusal to let anyone look too closely. You avoid eye contact like the plague. Eyes, after all, are the windows to the soul. And letting someone peer through them is a risky gamble you’ve never been apt to take.

You were clearly beyond uninterested in the beginnings of this conversation. The lack of willingness to be friendly reigning clear as you shove the tin cup towards him yet again. He grabs the empty cup and refills it once more—your third drink in under five minutes. He seems reluctant to hand it back. He maintains a grip on it as he eyes you again, this time much more thoughtful.

“Care to chat about it? Might be healthier than drownin’ yourself at the bottom of a bottle,” he offers plainly.

You give him a sidelong glance, not even trying to mask the edge in your voice. 

“Doesn’t sound like a good business strategy, encouraging your paying customers to cut back.” You fire back quickly, the sharpness of your words outpacing even your annoyance at the unwanted conversation.

The bartender chuckles again, a spark of amusement flickering in his tired eyes. There’s a glimmer of understanding in his smile—maybe he’s seen more than a few like you in this dive. Or maybe, he knows in the same fashion as you, that sometimes it’s more palatable to fill the silence with alcohol than with words.

“Fair point, but I’d prefer to keep my patrons alive. Helps me sleep at night, y’know?” The bartender shoots back, his eyes fixed on you, all too curious about what’s hidden beneath your hood. The conversation quickly turns uncomfortable, a painful reminder of why you’ve never liked bartenders—they always talk too much and ask too many personal questions. As far as you’re concerned, they should stick to the charade for the sake of their regulars, and leave all unsuspecting customers alone. 

The momentum of yet another roll of your eyes causes your head to bob ever so slightly— your hood creeping back towards the line of your hair. The new, incredibly subtle, view of your face made the barman clench the cup in his hands with rigor. 

His eyes narrow slightly, the amusement fading from his voice. 

“Where’re your parents, kid?” He asks, his voice low and in demand of an answer. 

The question hits you like a slap, and for a brief second, you find yourself caught off guard. You’re not someone who’s usually thrown by imbecilic remarks from the residents of The Lanes, but this one? It’s different. Not just the audacity of asking such a personal question, but the clear assumption of your age being made so boldly. 

Your head snaps up, and before you can stop yourself, you push your hood back, breaking your own rule about eye contact. Why? Who knows. Today has already gone off the rails, and you’re too far gone to care. The liquor’s sudden grip on your senses began to cloud your judgment, and honestly, it was far from shocking. To be fair, you had asked for something strong… Not to mention having no substantial food in your belly to dilute the potency you sought after. All in all, there was no ignoring how the liquor was starting to pummel you like a brick to the face would. 

You meet his gaze, eyes scanning his face for any sign of what he’s gunning after by asking such a question. But there’s nothing obvious behind those gloomy eyes of his. No clear motive. You can’t tell if he’s purposefully trying to get under your skin or if he’s just another fool with a quick tongue. 

“Rotting in their graves,” you mutter, voice sharp and, in addition, spiteful. 

“Which I’m sure you’ve got one foot in, yourself, Gramps.” You make a mockery of the decades that are clearly stacked against you, hoping to push him back into his corner.

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he practically snorts, running a hand over his silvery beard as he crosses his arms; resting them across his stomach with the casual authority of someone who’s seen it all. He’s not rattled by your quips—no, not in the slightest. 

“How old are you, kid?” His voice is flat now, a hint of something more serious creeping in, though you can’t figure out why. You’re even more unsure now about his intentions. Constantly expecting the worst from people was your lot in life. 

“Too young for you.” You snap back, pushing forward with your usual sharpness, trying to regain some control over this ridiculous conversation. You reach for the cup he had refilled for you, but before you can even graze it, he snatches it away, clicking his tongue like a disappointed parent.

“Tsk, tsk,” he tuts at you, as if you’ve done something wrong.

“I asked how old you were.” he repeats, his voice now devoid of any amusement. 

He watches you carefully, his gaze inspecting your face as if he’s trying to peel back layers you didn’t even know were there.

You roll your eyes, irritation growing, and narrow them at him, unwilling to back down. You can’t tell if he’s probing for something deeper, or if he’s just getting off on making you uncomfortable. Either way, you’re done playing his game.

“Why are you so curious, huh?” you scoff, leaning in and making a bold decision to double down on your irritation. “I’m just another patron here to drown in my sorrows and drink them away. Not to mention, I’m paying for the privilege.” Your words are bold, and with that same boldness, you reach across the bar and rip the cup from his grasp.

You try to bring the drink to your lips, intent on finishing it off. But just as the cup nears your mouth, the bartender’s large, rough hand slips over the opening of the cup like a solar eclipse. 

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing as he sizes you up with a look that could strip paint. In that moment, something clicks in his mind. The defiance in your voice, the way you’re carrying yourself—it all reinforces his suspicion. You’re not old enough to be here. When you walked in, your hood had obscured most of your face. But now that it’s gone, he can see it clearly: you’re just a kid, trying to score some alcohol. The only thing that kept him from throwing you out on your ass, was your cadence. You looked young, and spoke carelessly, but you sounded grown. If you were in fact grown, he’d ease up. 

However, with the way you look—bloodied and bruised, no less—he’s convinced you’re in some kind of trouble. The kind of trouble he doesn’t want being drug through his bar. He doesn’t know where you’ve been, who you’ve pissed off, or what kind of people you run with. But this? This is his bar, and he’s fought too hard to maintain the fragile peace that reigns here. He won’t let you ruin that for him and his loyal patrons by dragging your poor choices in with you. 

“Seems I’ve struck a nerve,” he says, his voice no longer playful but flat and serious. “Either tell me your age, or you’re cut off.”

The room seems to hush around you. The muffled chatter of patrons behind you fades as the bartender’s tone sharpens, leaving no room for argument. It’s a quiet threat now, the kind that lets you know exactly how much leverage you have—and how little he’s willing to tolerate.

“You didn’t strike shit,” You hiss. “and I don’t need to answer to shit.” You add. 

The bartender bends over the counter, his face inches from yours. The bitter scent of smoke hangs thick on his breath, hot and rancid, and it presses against your skin like a physical weight. The damp air in the bar swirls around you, brushing your cheeks with an uncomfortable warmth that feels suffocating, as if the room itself is closing in.

“Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll have no problem lettin’ my loyal patrons cut your tongue out for us to hang above the bar.” He says fiercely. 

You glance over your shoulder, catching the eyes of the dozens of patrons who have fallen silent, their conversations and business abruptly halted. It’s clear—they’re waiting for a signal, ready to back up their beloved bartender if things escalate.

“You can call off the cavalry, Gramps. I was just leaving,” you retorted, swiping one of your coins from the counter, as if to refund yourself for the drink you’ve yet to have. You release your grip on the cup, almost slingshotting it backwards from the sheer force you two had each been bestowing upon it. 

“Sit down.” the bartender commands, his voice low and final, as you attempt to abscond. 

You don’t reply, instead moving to shoulder through the row of patrons who are standing like silent sentinels, waiting for the slightest nod from their bar’s gatekeeper. It’s not like you expected them to part, but the way not a single person dares budge makes your blood boil. The crowd might as well be a wall of stone. 

“Sit. Down.” the bartender demands again, his tone sharper this time, a razor edge cutting through the haze of the bar.

You grind your teeth, your patience wearing thin.

“I’ll take my patronage elsewhere—”

You don’t even finish your sentence before a hand, seemingly out of nowhere, pushes you roughly back. You stumble, barely managing to stop yourself from falling flat on your ass. The sudden movement sends a rush of heat to your head, the anger spiking through your veins like fire.

You seethed at the touch, the anger burning hot in your chest, every muscle in your body coiled with frustration. But you knew better than to keep pushing your luck. Not today. Not in a situation like this, with dozens of hungry eyes watching, their hands twitching near their weapons of choice, waiting for the slightest excuse to make a move.

Biting back a torrent of curses, you forced yourself to swallow your pride, choosing to stay quiet—at least for now. It wasn’t worth the fight. You could practically feel the heat of their glares digging into your back as you turned on your heel, eyes locking once more with the bartender’s. You reclaimed your seat at the bar with deliberate flair, each movement oozing a sense of defiance and attitude. It was a performance, one you were used to. To you, it felt like you were playing the part of someone tough. But you knew, deep down, that to anyone else—especially the bartender—you probably looked like nothing more than a naive, immature idiot who didn’t know when to shut up. It wasn’t a great look, but at least it kept people from getting too close.

“I’m sat,” you muttered, voice brimming with the remnants of your irritation.

The bartender shook his head slightly, a hint of amusement creeping back into his expression. You could feel the tension in the room dissipate, the energy shifting as the crowd behind you resumed their rowdy conversations. The noise began to swell again, and for a moment, it almost felt like the bar was returning to some semblance of normalcy.

He grabbed a dirty glass from the counter, handling it with practiced ease, and pulled a rag from beneath the bar. As he began polishing the glass, he didn’t so much as glance your way. His focus was on the glass, and for a few moments, it felt like you were nothing more than a background detail to him. You could feel your impatience growing with each passing second. If he had something to say, you wished he’d just say it already. At least that way, you could get out of here—and maybe keep some of your pride intact.

The bartender continued his slow, methodical motions, running the rag around the rim of the glass with an almost exaggerated calmness. He didn’t bother to look up, yet you could feel the weight of his gaze on you through the silence.

“I’m gonna ask you again,” he said, his tone neutral, almost too much. “How old are you?”

You weighed your options. If you didn’t answer, you had no idea what would happen next. If you did answer, you still had no clue. It was a gamble either way.

“(Insert age here),” you muttered, the words slipping out begrudgingly, each one like a weight lifting off your chest.

The bartender scoffed lightly, a soft laugh escaping him that made your skin crawl. Your fingers began tapping impatiently on the bar’s edge, the rhythm a soft counterpoint to the growing tension between you.

“____ years old and still so naive… You really are just a kid, eh?” His words hung in the air, his eyes still locked on the glass in front of him, but you could see the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“There are worse things I could be,” you shot back, your voice laced with a mix of defensiveness and defiance.

“S’pose that’s true,” he replied, finishing up his polishing with the air of someone who had all the time in the world. He set the glass down next to the others—clean, polished, and waiting to be used. With a fluid motion, he slung the rag over his shoulder, then placed one hand on his hip and the other on the edge of the counter. He shifted his weight, leaning just slightly into the bar, his posture relaxed yet somehow still imposing.

“But on the other hand,” he said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, “what you already are ain’t too good either.”

It wasn’t a threat—more of an observation, one that hung heavily in the air, like the smoke in the room. You felt the weight of it, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was a warning or just another way to mess with you. Either way, you could tell this conversation wasn’t over.

You could feel the first few bubbles of anger rising in your chest, the heat creeping up your neck as your blood threatened to boil. You’d always been quick to anger—an unfortunate side effect of your temper and stubborn streak. They were the crosses you’d carried for as long as you could remember.

You scoffed again, the sound sharp and biting, as if it were the only defense you had left. You had already rolled your eyes a dozen times tonight, but it felt like you were on the verge of an explosion.

“What’s your goal here, Gramps?” you spat, your voice dripping with sass, every word a little jab. You didn’t care to hide your bitterness. You liked to fight with words just as much as you did with your fists, and the bartender was starting to see that loud and clear.

“You got the answer you were looking for. Whether you believe me or not, you’ve already served me twice. If my age was such a concern to you, you would’ve kicked me out long before I even sat down.” Your words hung in the air once more, and you could see the gears turning behind his eyes, but he didn’t speak.

He just let out a quiet laugh, as if your logic amused him. And he didn’t bother to answer, not even in the slightest.

The silence stretched, thick and tense, and it was clear he wasn’t going to explain himself. He wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction of an explanation. He simply leaned back, eyes flicking over to the rowdy crowd behind you.

It was infuriating.

You stayed silent for a beat, but only because you knew you’d have more to say. And damn right, you did.

“Do you do this with every new customer?” You snapped, your voice rising now, the frustration boiling over. “’Cause if you ask me, I’m not sure how this shithole’s still in business. You discourage your customers from drinking, even though this is a fucking bar, and that’s all people come here to do. You make it impossible to drink peacefully, just like you make it impossible to drink at all!”

The words spilled out like fire, each one more forceful than the last. Your temper was no longer something you were trying to hold back—it was running rampant, and it felt good to let it out, even if it was in the form of a scream. You weren’t about to let this bartender—this stubborn old man—have the upper hand. Not when it felt like he was deliberately pushing your buttons.

“So if it’s alright with you, Gramps, you got your answer, and I don’t owe you shit. I’m leaving.” You actually raise your voice purposefully this time, slamming your hands down onto the counter as you push yourself off of the stool once more. 

The bartender wasn’t fazed by your outburst. In fact, he’d dealt with feistier, louder, and much more difficult people than you—people who could out-shout you or out-punch you if they had to. He wasn’t bothered by your temper. He had raised four kids on his own, after all. He’d learned a thing or two about handling stubborn personalities, whether they were kids or grown adults who carried themselves like children. And you, in his eyes, were just another brat testing his patience.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice was steady, calm, and authoritative, with an edge of finality that cut through the noise of the bar.

Before you could react, his hand shot out faster than you expected, grabbing your shoulder with an unexpected gentleness. He tugged you back into the seat with a kind of effortless force that made your breath catch in your throat.

You shot up from the bar stool in a flash, but his hold was stronger than you anticipated.

Instinct kicked in, and your own hand shot out like a snake, grabbing his wrist with a quick, almost violent motion. You shoved it off your shoulder, irritation flaring up like wildfire.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, your chest heaving as you glared up at him, the heat of the moment burning in your eyes.

You huffed, your fists clenching at your sides, teeth grinding. The room seemed to close in around you, but you weren’t backing down—not now, not after all of this. The tension between you and the bartender was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. You could feel the weight of the crowd’s silent attention being drawn to you once more as they waited for your next move, but you weren’t afraid. You didn’t have time to be.

The man let out a heavy sigh, the sound thick with disappointment. 

“Look, kid—”

“By the fucking god’s, I’m not a kid!” you snapped, your eyes flashing a level of ferocity that sliced straight through him.

He pressed his lips into a thin, hard line, his gaze cemented on you still as he took a long, steadying breath. Patience was his virtue, and he was willing to endure this sparring match for as long as it took. 

“It’s clear you’re in some kind of trouble,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Maybe, just maybe, instead of lashing out, you could let someone help—”

You cut him off mid-sentence, your words an unpleasant interruption.

“Help? You want to help? Surely that’s the wrong word. Surely, I heard you wrong, cause, from the way I see it, you’ve done nothing except cage me in here, threaten me, and withhold what I paid for. So if it’s with any consolation, take your ‘help’ and fuck off.” 

Enough was enough. Without another word, you climbed atop the stool, bracing yourself for what came next. You steadied your balance, then launched yourself toward the crowd with calculated precision. The dismount was quick—intentional, forceful. You tucked your legs in, soaring over their heads in a perfect flip, and extended them just before hitting the ground behind them. Without pausing, you bolted for the door, heart pounding in your chest.

To your surprise, you made it—flying through the door and slamming it shut behind you with a satisfying crash. Finally, you were free, never to be seen within a hundred yards of this bar ever again. 

The patrons had made a half-hearted attempt to grab at you as you rushed past, but a sharp, deafening whistle from the bartender stopped them in their strides. He shook his head softly, a silent message that it wasn’t worth the chase. That it was better to let you go. If you were in trouble, it would catch up with you soon enough.

Deep down, the bartender hated seeing someone so young seal their own fate in such a way. But, in the end, there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t save them all—no matter how badly he wished he could.

He couldn’t help but wonder— if maybe, just maybe, he’d been a little too assertive, or downright impetuous with you after all.

But it didn’t matter now. You were gone. All he could do was hope you’d survive out on those streets. 

taglist: @blogforhoes @committingcrimes-2047 @dirtandcrime @eternalgoddessofart @woozulo @lutaaaslostacc-d8 @heidiland05 @sugaaawaraaa @glenn-slayer

[jeonaissance]

Flight Attendant :; J.JK

- Summary: Jungkook has his own jet for work purpose but he always use it for another reason - meet his favorite flight attendant.

- Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader

- Genre: smut, 18+

a/n: Hello, this is my first work, please be gentle and friendly when you leaves a comment. English is not my first language so maybe I had some mistakes in it, please forget it 🥺

Jungkook had a meeting with a partner in Canada that required him to be there in person, so he prepared for a flight on his private jet.

Jungkook really liked this jet, or rather, he liked the person on this jet.

That's right, Y/N was the most charming woman he had ever met, and also the most difficult to please, and guess what, she was his flight attendant.

"Good evening, Mr. Jeon. I hope you have a good flight. If you need anything, please let me know." Y/N smiled and greeted him.

Jungkook lifted her chin, using his thumb to caress her face.

"Long time no see, you've become much prettier. I hope you're ready to make this flight of mine more meaningful." He teased her.

"That's what I have to do."

He raised the corner of his mouth slightly, the hand on her face gradually moved down to her neck, and finally placed it on her breast. His fingers slightly caressed her sensitive skin.

"Is that so? Okay, I believe you can do your job well."

He leaned close to her ear and whispered.

"Y/N, anyway, when you're lying on my bed, you know how to satisfy me."

"For me, whether it's on the bed or anywhere else, it doesn't matter." Y/N confidently replied.

His eyes gradually darkened with lust. His other hand hugged her butt and gently squeezed it. He got closer, so close that he wanted to stick to her, making her clearly feel the bulge under his pants.

Y/N reached down, touching the thing that was bulging below through the fabric. Her eyes were still looking at him provocatively.

"What's wrong? Are you already so horny before we even took off?"

"Whose fault is it? You should get ready, if I’m not fucking you all night today, I'm not Jeon Jungkook."

Jungkook lowered his head and kissed her lips, one hand pulling her shirt up to caress her breasts, the other hand touching her private part through the fabric.

"You're wet, I haven't done anything yet. You want my cock inside you so much, right?"

"Give it to me, please..."

His fingers entered her pussy, each thrust getting stronger, her whole body trembled, moans spontaneously escaping from her beautiful lips. She hugged his neck, letting him continue to tease her lower body.

"Tell me, what do you want?"

Jungkook still didn't stop. His hand fondled one of her nipples, the other he sucked and bit lightly, making her both hurt and excited.

"Jungkook... I want your cock..."

"That's right, good girl. Honey, spread your legs."

Jungkook laid her on the bed, unbuckled his belt himself, and dropped his pants on the floor. Y/N did as he said, spreading her legs wide, she even reached out to touch her pussy.

Jungkook slightly caressed the tip of his cock in front of her pussy, his lips curled up into a smile.

"Look, your rosy face is so cute."

A strong thrust inside made her startled, the speed was very slow but strong, making her lips move continuously. The sweet honey-like moans poured into his ears, his hips still moving faster and faster. Jungkook reached out to knead her breasts, moaning into her ear.

"Y/N, call my name."

She arched her body, feeling each strong thrust of his was making her body excited. She didn't hesitate, raising her voice to beg.

"Jungkook.. Let me cum, please..."

"My baby is losing patience? Just a little more, okay?"

He kept moving, his lips caressing her neck then up to her chin and pressed against her lips, giving her a passionate kiss.

Y/N felt like she was about to collapse, still begging him.

"Jungkook... I can't take it anymore..."

"Baby, I'll come with you."

Both she and Jungkook climaxed, their juices soaking the bedsheets, sticking to their thighs. The scent of "love" filled his private jet.

"Jungkook..."

She gasped as she lay in his arms, her head nestled in the crook of his neck.

"It feels so good to hug you. After work tomorrow, come home with me, okay?"

"I know. I love you."

Jungkook gently stroked her hair.

"I love you too."

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Adventures in Babysitting

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: I’m gonna make a new header, like I just want o p t i o n s. Also, I’m hungry

@silas-aeiou You don't get a cute dedication. I hate you. I would have made that yellow, but you know they don't actually have yellow. So you know.... Orange. Like your bedspread that I think is orange.

Eddie was irritated. 

There was a lot in life he let slide, a lot that he knew there was nothing he could do and so he let it go. 

But this? Oh, this could have been prevented. 

“You’re gonna get frown lines,” You comment lazily from your spot in the sun. You’d curled up like a cat sunbathing and pulled out your Kindle about three hours ago, and aside from the occasional glass of water and getting him lunch, you hadn’t moved. 

“You’re gonna get frown lines.” He mocks you, his arms folded across his chest and a deep pout graces his lips. Your eyes flick up from the device and you stick your tongue out at him before going back to your book. 

“What are you even reading?” 

He’s bored out of his mind, and pretty much all he’s got to do is bother you or watch TV, and lord knows there’s nothing good on TV.

“You’ve asked me that three times. It’s still the same book”

“The same book you won’t tell me the name of?” He whines and awkwardly flops forward on the couch onto his tummy. He props his chin in his hands and bends his good knee. He’d cross his ankles if that damn brace wasn’t in the way.

“Because you’re going to Google it, and I don’t need you to know anything about what I’m reading” 

“But I want to know. Please Y/N, please? I promise I won’t bother you anymore! You won’t hear a peep out of me!” He gives you his sweetest, most innocent smile and bats his eyelashes, and you groan and drop your hand to the couch because you know he’s not going to leave you alone this time. 

And maybe, just maybe. Those stupid brown eyes really work on you. 

“It’s called-” You hesitate for a second and sigh “Ice Planet Barbarians. It’s the first one” 

“Okay.” He shrugs and stuffs a pillow under his chin and goes on his phone, and you stare at him 

“Okay? That’s it? You’ve been bothering me this entire time and all you’ve got to say is “Okay” really??” 

“I feel like I need to give you lessons on how to annoy someone.” 

“Ugh!!” 

You toss your kindle down to run away from his ass and he laughs as you stomp your way into his kitchen for a snack. 

“Get me a smoothie!”

“Fuck you and your smoothie!” 

After a half hour of letting him go thirsty, you shove his stupid smoothie bottle into his hand and plop back down on the couch with your snack. He gives you those stupid eyes again and bats his eyelashes, and you hand him the plate you’ve made him.

“Awww, you do care!” 

“I’m literally going to punch you in the knee.” 

Eddie’s mouth drops as he looks at the brace. He slaps his hand over his chest, and you roll your eyes at his dramatics.

“I am wounded.” 

“Yes, yes, I know you sprained your ACL.” He’d told the story at least 10 times already.

“I was saving a child!”

“Saving a child” 

“Have I ever mentioned how much I hated you?” He narrows his eyes, and you bat your eyelashes at him this time. 

“Maybe I need to give you lessons in annoying someone?” 

He stares at you for a second before sighing and balancing his plate on his chest.

“Touché” 

You didn’t actually mind watching after him. It was fun most of the time, just not when he was bored out of his mind. Your Auntie Athena had called you up, asking for a big favor. You had some medical training, and you weren’t really doing anything these days, so she asked you to come babysit a friend for her. When Buck answered the door that morning, you already felt the blush on your cheeks, and you nearly fell over when he introduced you to Eddie, the baby you would be sitting. 

Too bad he was annoying because he was fine as hell. 

“Can you grab me my wallet?” He mutters, and you get up to grab it. All in all, he was a pretty good patient. He didn’t ask for much, and unless he wanted to bother you, he was pretty polite about it… though you did have to convince him that it was okay to ask you to go to the bathroom whenever he needed and he didn’t have to hold it.

All in a day's work. 

You hand him his wallet, and he thanks you with that smile that made you weak, and you go back to plop on the couch. It was almost time to start dinner, and you hadn’t really gotten around to thinking about what to make. 

“Anything in particular you want for dinner?” You ask with a yawn, and he shrugs

“I just got us some pizza, You’ve been doing so much for me that I didn’t want you to have to make dinner too on top of all this.”

“Eddie,” you scold him softly. “You didn’t have to do that. I’d gladly make you dinner. It’s my job.”

“Oh? That’s all I am to you? A job” He pouts and you smirk and get up from the other couch, You flop down next to him and lean into his side 

“Nah, we’re friends now. I think I’ve accidentally seen your dick like three times today so personally, I think that makes us friends for life” 

“Mhm. Were you impressed?” 

He’s teasing, you know he is, but when he combines the question whilst putting his arm around your shoulders, you suddenly can’t breathe. 

“Uh- I mean-” You stutter and he’s got this stupid smile that you can’t tell what it means. 

“I was just kidding, Jeez Y/N.” 

You awkwardly laugh with him and try to wriggle from his arm but he keeps you there, in fact, he leans over himself and puts his head on your shoulder. 

“You mind if I take a little nap?”

“Oh sure, You want me to take you to your room?” You start to get up but he holds you in place again and you squeak 

“No this is good, wake me when the pizza gets here?” He takes the throw from the back of the couch and tosses it over both of you.

“O-okay” 

You’re so tense, like so tense that after about five minutes you hear Eddie start to snicker. 

“You want me to just use the pillows?” He doesn't even open his eyes when he speaks and you look over at him. 

“N-no It’s okay”

“You sure? I don't think you’ve taken more than five breaths this entire time”

“I’m sure” You take a slow breath and he gets up anyway, you bite back the frown when he moves away but he starts to push you back. 

“Okay, well if that’s the case I think I’d be more comfortable like this.”

You lay on your back and Eddie lays between you and the couch. He puts his arm around your waist and lays his head on your chest, you blush when he makes himself a little more comfy by nuzzling just a bit into your chest.

“You gonna breathe this time?” 

“Uh-huh”

“Good girl” 

He can hear the sharp inhale and practically feel the shiver go down your spine when he says that and he closes his eyes with a big smile because you’re reacting exactly how he thought you would. 

Eddie doesn’t get much sleep until you’ve finally gotten out of your head and started to calm down, your fingers thread through his soft hair and he feels his body relax against yours. He tried to stay awake, admittedly fake sleeping just to be close to you was almost as fuck boy as asking if you were impressed was but he just wanted to be near you.

He’d been sneaking glances at you all day, watching all your reactions to that book you were reading… which he’d bought immediately when you gave him his wallet and had read all the warnings for it and…

Jesus Christ.

But anyway, he just wanted to be close to you, because you were pretty and soft and you smelled good and pretty soon you’re shaking his shoulder gently and he’s lifting his head and settling his chin between your breasts and your eyes widen a little but you keep stroking his hair and he leans into your touch and you smile at him. 

“The pizzas here, you gotta let me up, babe” 

It’s like just a completely normal pet name, you’d even mentioned earlier that you used it in your everyday freaking conversation but god the way you say it to him. 

A man can dream.

He pushes away just enough for you to slip out from under him and go over to the door, he’s unabashedly staring at your ass while you give the kid a tip and grab the pizza from him and bring it in.

“You sure this is big enough?” You show him the giant ass box and pass by him to the dining room and he uses his cane to awkwardly get up from the couch. You drop the box and rush over to help catch him and he stumbles over into your arms. 

“You’re not supposed to be getting up by yourself!” You help him over to the dining room table and pick his leg up to put it on the other chair.

“I know I know, I just feel bad.” 

“Eddie this is my job! I want to take care of you. You know you deserve help, right? You’re injured and you need help, and I want to give that to you. I’m more than happy to.” 

It’s not… that deep. He knows you don’t mean it like that. But it hits home, and it hits home hard. He watches you walk to the kitchen to grab some plates, his eyes lingering on your plush hips.

Where did you get off telling him what was good for him… even if you know it was technically true? He watches you come in and serve him up a plate and hold it out to him.

“Are you gonna let me help?”

He looks at the plate, slowly taking it from you and setting it down in his lap.

“Yeah.” 

After that Eddie turns into an absolute baby. It’s small things, “Can you get me a napkin” “Will you hand me the remote?” “Can I have another soda?”

But then it’s “Will you sit by me?” And “Can I lean against you again?” 

And somehow it ends with your back against the armrest and him between your legs, using them as armrests. He tilts his head back and you’re running your fingers through his hair and giving him a scalp massage and he’s melting into your lap.

“Ohh that’s good” He’s practically purring as he snuggles into you and you smile.

“Oh really?” Your fingertips start working his neck and down his shoulders. He scoots forward a little and you’re working out all the knots at the base of his neck.

“You wanna go lie down maybe? I can work on your back” 

“Oh, that’s asking way too much” His head flops backward like he’s so comfy he can’t hold it up and you work your way out from underneath him. 

“Come on, let’s get you in bed, you should probably go goin there anyway, you need your rest” 

He whines and makes you tug him up off the couch and help him hobble to his bedroom. 

“You wanna get into your pajamas?” 

“It’s like 8 pm” He frowns but lifts his shirt over his head anyway. You blush and look away for a second to “grab his shorts” and hand them out to him. He smirks and takes them from you, purposely brushing his fingers against yours. 

“You know, Buck helped me get dressed this morning, if it’s necessary I can ask him to come over again.” 

Buck had literally gotten three pairs of jeans when Eddie got hurt and had one leg hemmed to work with the big ass brace he had to wear it had a zipper down the side that he could just undo and take off the other side normally. 

“These jeans are weird as hell, but I appreciate him” 

“At least he didn’t put you in booty shorts.” 

“He tried.” He deadpans and you giggle and come over to him. Your fingers fiddle with his belt and he bites his lip and watches you unbuckle it and put it on the bed. You work open his jeans and unzip them for him and then go to the weird side zipper and do that too. 

“You know, if you wanted to get my pants off all you had to do was ask” 

You roll your eyes and get down on your knees to help him get the jeans down.

“You’ve been waiting to use that one all day haven’t you?” 

“As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I have.” 

Your laugh gets caught in your throat when you look up at him, he has this hunger in his eyes that makes your cheeks flare bright pink. He reaches down and cups the back of your head, stroking your hair softly. 

“You know… you look kinda pretty like this” He mumbles and you lean forward just a little closer to him.

“I do?” You make your eyes wider, sweeter and he nearly passes out. 

“Jesus” He scoffs and pushes your head away and you fall on your butt with a laugh. You get up and help him into bed and then settle on top of him. 

He groans comfortably under your weight and you get to work on his back. It does not surprise you in any way shape or form that he’s a mess of tension and knots. You especially focus on his shoulders and you’ve got him moaning and whimpering like a slut. 

“You sound like a bitch” You wheeze and he tries to throw you off his back and you squeal and hold his shoulders.

“I’ll have your ass know I take pride in sounding like a little bitch okay. If my girl is making me sound that way? She must be doing something right” 

“Your girl?” You perk up a little and lean down onto him, your chest pressed into his back 

“Yeah, you’re my girl right?” 

Eddie was too damn friendly for his own good. He props himself up on his elbows just to feel you press harder against him. He can feel your nipples poking through your shirt. 

“Yeah I’m your girl” 

He lets his head hang down and you go back to massaging his neck. He sighs dreamily and lays his head back on the pillows. 

“You’re gonna put me to sleep” 

“Good. You really need to rest” You climb from his back and he misses you already. You help him turn over onto his back and put the covers over him. 

“Remember, I’ve got my phone on, so call me for anything and everything. Got it?”

“Got it” He waves his phone at you and you smile and head for the door. 

“Goodnight Eddie” 

“No goodnight kiss for me?” 

You stop in your tracks and try to ignore the chuckle under his breath. You turn around slowly and put your hands on your hips.

“I just feel like it would make me feel better”

He says it in the cutest voice with the most adorable pout on his lips and you just groan and stomp back over to the bed.

“You are the biggest, fattest, baby I’ve ever known in my entire life”

“Uh-huh” 

“And I cannot believe,” you lean down to kiss his forehead “That your ass is making me-“

He lifts his head just in time to connect with your lips, his hand comes flying down and keeps your lips against his because he knows damn well that you’re about to try and run from it. 

Damn, he’s good. 

His fingers wrap around your hair and tug gently and you sigh, softening every bit of rigid awkwardness and letting him kiss you. You place your hand on his chest and he grins and pulls you closer to him and onto his lap. 

You lean down and cup his face, moving your lips in sync with his and he pulls you down onto his chest to feel you against him again. He kisses you until you’re both breathless until he knows you won’t run away from him until he’s sure he’s gotten his “I’m really into you” point across. 

You both pull away panting and you flop over onto the bed next to him. You wait until you’ve got some of your senses back and turn your head to look at him. 

“Nurses shouldn’t have relationships with their patients” 

“It’s so sexy when they do though” 

“I should punch you in the knee for that move” 

“You should, but I don’t think you will.” 

He scoots closer and nuzzles his nose against yours and you smile and peck his lips. 

“You wanna sleep in here tonight?” 

He offers because he likes you, and it’s been a hot minute since he had that kind of company. He’s going to be thinking about a lot of baseball tonight. 

“Okay, on one condition” 

“Anything” 

“From now on? You let me take care of you without putting up a fight… and give you a sponge bath” 

“Oh god, fucking deal baby girl” 

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part one)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

Please comment if you want to be added to the taglist, the next part or cod content alone.

Taglist: @marshmallowinamess

A/n: Hi lovelies! Lia here, I'm back after a nerve-wracking week of school. This is a bit short but I hope you enjoy it otherwise. God I fucking hate school. I wrote all of this in a cold room, a heat pad on me (because period cramps) and at 3am so any mistakes will be edited out as soon as I'm aware of it.

This is divided into a multiple part thing (I think 2-3?) because God knows I can't fit them all in one post because of the limited amount of gifs and photos. I'll add more to these in the future, some are longer than others because I can't think. Also because I can't write them all at once, that's a lot to write okay 😭

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

John Price

ꕥ (OH MY GOD LOOK AT HIS SMILEEE) (He's such a quokka)

ꕥ Price who literally is such a father figure, doesn't matter whether the relationship between you two is romantic or platonic. He often takes the dominant caring role.

ꕥ Doesn't smoke around you, doesn't matter if you insist he doesn't. He still won't and definitely will criticize you if you try or do smoke because he doesn't want you do end up like him.

ꕥ If there's a bit of an age gap between you, I'd say he's hesitant. Definitely afraid of what the rest of the task force thinks (He can't help it, they're basically his boys)

ꕥ John Price who wants to settle down with you, maybe have kids if you want but just a white picket fence life with you without the chaos that is war and his job.

ꕥ He only ever let's you have his hat, only when he gives it to you though. Most of the time it would be while you're out, he'd put it on your head from his. (Cowboy hat rule? I heard that in more respectful terms rather than sexual, it respectfully means that you are theirs)

ꕥ John Price who rests his chin at the top of your head no matter how much he needs to crouch down whenever hugging you from behind. Love doing it whenever you're busy doing something too. (Props for the effort because you cannot tell me he doesn't have back, neck and knee pains)

ꕥ Is constantly worried if you share the same line of work, like at first it was nothing but a tiny crush and slowly he finds himself caring about your well-being more and more over time.

ꕥ Can't help but think he's an acts of service type of guy, reaching up for things you need or better yet lifting you up so you can reach them and loves opening things for you like bottles or anything canned. (Girlies who get their nails done or wear press ons know this struggle ( I'm a press on girly)

ꕥ The kind of man who would turn on some oldies music and slow dance with you in the living room, your footsteps and breathing being the only other sounds as you smile at each other, foreheads against the other's.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

ꕥ Ghost who is such Doberman/Black cat boyfriend. Like have you seen this man? He's so tall and intimidating, one distasteful look from him and if it was physically possible that person would drop dead.

ꕥ Ghost whose a chubby chaser through and through, he just looks for something different from what he's used to.

ꕥ Is definitely a tits kinda guy, doesn't matter how big or how small they are. He'll definitely play with them in some way during doing the you know what.

ꕥ Feels like you can take him and his size better because of your plush body. Has a size kink and likes seeing it bulge a bit when he's inside you.

ꕥ You're just so soft and warm, he wants something away from what he usually feels doing his job. Not really that touchy but he gets quite clingy within closed doors.

ꕥ Likes to squeeze your thighs, his grip on them would not falter. Doesn't matter whether it's in a sexual or domestic way.

ꕥ Thinks you deserve better than what he can offer and needs constant reassurance, never says it out loud but you pick up on what he feels. (please be patient with him)

ꕥ More often than not, he thinks you're quite fragile. Even if you can protect yourself, one of his ways of showing you he loves you is through protecting you. Hence the Doberman boyfriend scenario.

ꕥ Doesn't like PDA but knows when it's necessary, him placing his arm around your shoulder is enough to keep perverts in their places. If that rando is really that bold then they'll most likely end up with a few broken bones depending on how pissed Simon is.

ꕥ If you work alongside him, he'd constantly worry about your well-being but at the same time is conflicted because he's confident that he can protect you.

ꕥ Only you and the TF141 can call him Simon, he still feels uneasy when he gets called that but when it's you saying it, it doesn't sound as daunting to him. Still dislikes in in certain tones of voice because his name reminds him of his past.

ꕥ You've seen his face, it took a long time but after that he trusted you enough to show him. The fact that you didn't find his face revolting and even kissed his scars while cupping his face was enough for him to want to marry you.

ꕥ Isn't fully insecure about his face but has his moments. (You know like the voice line where soap asks him to take off his mask and asked him if he was ugly and Ghost said "Negative")

ꕥ Takes a little while to get him to open up and little things like letting you hold him takes him a bit of time to get used to because it makes him feel vulnerable.

ꕥ God forbid something were to happen to you and he couldn't do anything to stop it, Simon would lose his fucking mind.

John "Soap" MacTavish

ꕥ Soap is a Golden Retriever boyfriend through and through. He's energetic, loyal and really affectionate.

ꕥ He's a lighthearted flirt at first because he doesn't wanna scare you off but damn does he gradually get bolder over time.

ꕥ Very hands on, touchy, and could be clingy at times unless you don't consent him, secretly always finding new ways to touch you.

ꕥ A sucker for cheek kisses, lips are his favorite but he can't help but break out a wide grin whenever you kiss his cheek. Can't help but feel kinda manly whenever you do.

ꕥ Adores making you laugh, no matter how stupid your sense of humor is he will absolutely say that joke if it gets a laugh out of you. Would be concerned if you had a dark sense of humor but will eventually get used to it. To describe it, hearing you laugh makes his heart feel full like in a content domestic way.

ꕥ Also, see the gif? You cannot tell me that he doesn't look at you that way because he absolutely would.

ꕥ Loves your weight against his body to the pint he's begging you to lay on him. You, him in the bed while he's shirtless with grey sweatpants on and you in your night clothes sharing each other's warmth with your head on his broad chest.

ꕥ Shows you silly and cute pet videos, especially the cat ones:

"[Name], look at this one!"

"Soap, we're not adopting a pet. Not right now at least"

ꕥ He was upset and gave you puppy eyes the whole time because the only time he had pet was when he was child, it was a hamster which was killed because it got sucked into the vacuum by his older sister.

ꕥ You're the only one allowed to tough his hair, he's very proud of his mohawk and will let you style it. Won't wear it out if you did something silly to it though.

ꕥ Soap who loves showing you off to everyone, loves light PDA but doesn't wanna potential put a target on your back.

ꕥ He definitely is the guy you want to take home to your family and friends (or found family <3), he's funny and easy to get along with. Very flirty with you but he'll straighten out because he's terrified on making a bad impression.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

ꕥ (HE'S SO FREAKING UNDERRATED WITHIN THIS FANDOM)

ꕥ He gives Labrador boyfriend vibes, you can't help but want to take care of him.

ꕥ Gaz who literally had to do a double take when he first saw you, he turned to Soap with that "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" look in a good way.

ꕥ Gaz who literally had to ask you out multiple times before you said yes thinking he's only doing it for a bet or a cruel joke.

ꕥ Constant reassurance from him because he doesn't want you to feel insecure about your looks because to him you are literally an angel.

ꕥ Loves to chill with you, cuddling and just relaxing. Maybe scrolling on TikTok occasionally and show you the funny ones he chuckled at.

ꕥ He has a sixth sense whenever you crave something, say you want chocolate or drink of some sort then he'd definitely being home whatever it is you we're craving without having to ask you.

ꕥ Kyle who has your Starbucks order memorized because he likes being the one to order things for you. Will playfully argue with you on who'll pay this time. (Don't even try anymore, he always wins anyway)

ꕥ Puts his hat on your head mostly when you're out, has done it the first time because it was hot out and the sun was in your eyes. He's picked it up from Price and once you smiled at him through the shade of his cap, he has not stopped doing it.

ꕥ Definitely a words of affirmation and acts of service kind of guy when it comes to love languages. Sometimes whenever he'd give you two thumbs up and a cheeky smile, you can't help but laugh a little.

ꕥ He's very thoughtful, so much so that he prides himself in knowing you better than anyone. Everytime you two go out to eat, when he gets something and know that you'll want to taste it (he knows damn well whether you'll like it or not when he tastes it) he'll bring it upon himself to order you one before you even say you want some.

ꕥ Soft snores when he sleeps, it's cute but you know damn well he's tired. Also I think he's very cuddly, like he just likes reminding himself that he's not alone and that his bed is warm because you're in it. Therefore at minimum always has an arm around you in bed.

ꕥ Dances in the rain with you and loves it when you pull him gently on his arm while your hands are intertwined. Takes note of how the the raindrops sometimes fall on your lashes while you look up at him smiling.

ꕥ Kyle Garrick who wants nothing more in the world to see you happy and smiling. His "this is the woman I'm going to marry" moment was when you baked his favorite cake for his birthday despite it being so hard, you nailed it perfectly. (Whether it's out of luck or skill is up to you)

Alejandro Vargas

ꕥ (idk how to write for this angry Mexican man but I'll try my best, love him and his megamind hairline though <3)

ꕥ Alejandro is definitely a flirt, a very bold on at that. He's quite forward when it comes to liking someone so yeah.

ꕥ He lives for it when you boss him around. That being said, he isn't picky about body type or any of the sort.

ꕥ Will teach you Spanish if you don't know any, definitely prioritizes the curse words and laughs whenever you jokingly call him pendejo.

ꕥ Wouldn't mind you teaching him your own culture and mother tongue. Bonus points if it's similar to his.

ꕥ Has Spanish nicknames for you because I imagine his own culture is important to him.

ꕥ Would hate it if you had the same line of work but will never take it out on you, it's just that it's so dangerous given the people he's involved with. (It's definitely Valeria)

ꕥ Speaking of El Sinombre, I don't think they had anything romantic going on. It's mainly platonic and the "betrayal" sucked on Alejandro's side. They definitely had some rivalry and the tension was through the roof. (Mainly because I headcanon Valeria as Lesbian)

ꕥ Can be so romantic when he tries, you can't tell me this mf ain't a smooth talker because he definitely is. Can be very blunt like in a forward way with his affection too.

ꕥ Likes kissing your wrist and feeling your pulse against his lips because it reminds him you're alive. (The amount of angst this scenario carries would be something I'm up for to write)

ꕥ Is sent on a fit of rage when something happens to you, say you got kidnapped then this man would tears off the walls of every building if he had to.

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

ꕥ (ANOTHER UNDERATED CHARACTER)

ꕥ Another Golden Retriever boyfriend. This man is just loving and dotting, very husband material.

ꕥ Loves chubby women, has a soft spot for them and just likes holding them.

ꕥ He's definitely used to the insecurity that comes with the body, also doesn't get why such beauty standards are even in place. Has and would fuck the insecure out of you again if he had to. (It's in a very gentle and loving manner)

ꕥ If you hold him in your arms, he'd be absolutely living for it. He already has had a long day and being honest he hasn't had many lovers that went far so having you care in this way about him would have him wrapped around your finger.

ꕥ Worships the ground you walk on. That's it.

ꕥ Would take everything to heart whenever you teach him or mention something within your culture if you aren't of Spanish origins like he is. He just loves you so much that it makes him happy knowing more about you.

ꕥ Would adore slow dancing with you, brings him back to reality where he realizes that he has you and that you're there.

ꕥ Terrified that one day you'll end up leaving him so reassurance would be much appreciated by him.

ꕥ Definitely a sucker for receiving forehead kisses, as for giving he likes to kiss the back of your hand.

ꕥ If ever danger presents itself to you too closely, he would have a heart attack like full on crying but not in public though.

[99woez]

FEEL THE BASS THROUGH THE BATHROOM WALLS : PARK WONBIN.

warnings: smut + mentions of this being a toxic relationship. wc: 1.3k

The bathroom is dirty.

Wonbin drops to his knees quickly, staring up at you with those big brown eyes. His hands hesitantly lift to touch your thighs, but you swat them away, smirking down at him before running a hand through his long black hair. The roots are sweaty, most likely from the crowd of the concert raging inside the crowded venue you drug him to. Wonbin did whatever you wanted, did whatever you said, lived to please you, and you ate every second of it up. You dragged that boy around like a dog. So much so that your friends even began to comment on it.

“You should be nicer to him.”

“He’s really sweet…Maybe go easy on him?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to show him you actually like him.”

You did like Wonbin. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have kept him around for as long as you have. You smile down at him fondly, watching his eyes sparkle as they look up at you. You run your thumb over his plump bottom lip, dragging it down to see the pink flesh inside before letting it bounce back into place with a hum. 

“So pretty, baby. Were you having fun?” You coo at him, watching his head nod as his hands rise again to touch you. This time, you let him, feeling his palms rest against the the smooth skin of your thighs. His fingers press and knead into the soft skin, watching how your skin dips at the weight of his fingertips in wonder. He always looks in awe of you like you’re some angel that crashed into his life and enlightened him on how he should be living life.

Wonbin was a loser before he met you. He’s still kind of a loser, but at least he dresses better now.

You reach down to pull your skirt and underwear down your legs, exposing yourself under the dismal flicker of cheap fluorescent lighting. "Can you do something for me, Binnie?" Your words come out smooth as velvet, starkly contrasting your grimy surroundings. His gaze meets yours, ardent and unblinking, the slightest hint of uncertainty clouding his doe eyes.

The air in that dirty bathroom feels cloudy and tough to inhale. The smell of cheap beer and sweat clinging heavy in the air. It’s disgusting. It’s perfect.

You watch the nervous tick in his jaw, the way his eyes flicker back to the door every now and then, as though expecting it to burst open. But despite his fear, he stays. He stays for you. "Go on," you urge, a soft smirk playing on your lips, your hand guiding his head between your legs where you need him most.

You almost gasp at the first contact—almost—but you swallow it down. You're not here to give him power; you're here to take it from him. His movements are hesitant at first, unpracticed and unsure, but there's an eagerness there too—an eagerness to please—that stokes your ego more than anything. Wonbin has only belonged to you. You took his virginity a week after you two started dating. You rode him in the back of his car after he took you to see a movie he was excited about. It had something to do with space and aliens. You don’t remember the name of it, but you remember the pathetic sounds Wonbin made as you bounced on his cock so hard the car shook.

You like that memory. It always makes you smile.

You run your fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands with a soft moan when his nose bumps your clit. "Don't stop," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the screeching of guitars from outside. But he hears you—he always hears you—and picks up his pace obediently.

His hands tighten around your thighs—their trembling long since forgotten—and there's a newfound confidence in his movements. It's almost enough to make you proud. Almost.

A sharp intake of breath escapes your lips as Wonbin's tongue swirls around your clit, his hands tightening their grip on your thighs. You grin down at him and spread your legs wider, arching your back. His tongue darts out again, lapping at your folds, and you let out a low moan as you tighten your hold on his long hair. Your breath hitches when his fingers find their way inside of you, teasing you, massaging your soft walls by curling the tips of them up. You taught him that. Everything he knows is because of you. That fact alone makes you smile down at him, biting your bottom lip as you watch him desperately work to please you.

You know he's inexperienced, but you also know he's eager to learn and please you. His hand clenches and unclenches on your thighs as he tries to find the right rhythm, his head bobbing up and down between your legs with growing confidence. The wet, sloppy sound of his tongue against your folds blends in with the bass of the music coming from outside. His hair is a mess around his face, dark lashes sweeping against his cheeks as he focuses on pleasuring you. 

The smell of beer and sweat in the air intensifies as you hold onto the sink, your fingers gripping the marble tightly. It would be a lie to say that you're not enjoying this. The way he submits to you, the way he looks up at you with those big brown eyes full of adoration and desire, the way his tongue explores your cunt like he's found the Holy Grail. 

“Good boy…Such a good boy,” You coo as he moans softly against your core, pressing himself further between your legs. Your thighs cage his head in, locking in on the sides. You feel his nails dig into your thighs with another moan at the mild suffocation, watching as his eyes flick up to look at you pathetically. You hear him whine against you between the wet noises his mouth makes as he sucks and licks at your clit, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

You take deep yet shaky breaths the closer he brings you to the edge, the pleasure tingling throughout your body slowly but surely. Your head falls back against the mirror behind you, adding to the smudges already littering it. “That’s it,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his sweat-dammed black hair and holding it tightly. You feel the pleasure creep up your spine the harder he sucks at your clit, hearing the most obscene of noises leave his mouth as he desperately works you toward your orgasm. In times like this, it felt like all he lived for was pleasing you, probably because that is all Wonbin lived for now. 

He has no friends. He doesn’t talk to his family anymore. When he’s at work, he’s texting you. You consume his every waking thought exactly like you wanted. You not only consume his thoughts but his entire life. You’re his whole life just like you planned.

You tumble over the edge when he moans against you again, sending vibrations through your sensitive body. You moan out his name when you cum, your chest rising and falling with every labored breath you took. The short but intense ripples of pleasure rolling through you make your head spin. It’s numbing but electrifying. You can’t help but smile dumbly at the feeling, looking down at the boy still nestled between your legs, looking up at you with big, expectant eyes, waiting for your next instruction like he always did.

“Come here, baby,” You sigh, releasing your thighs from his head, letting him lift his head with a gasp of air before he scrambles to crash his lips to yours. He always loved to kiss you, chasing your lips the second you pulled away. You’re like a drug to him. His hands take your face into them, moaning quietly into your mouth as your hands jolt up to hold onto his biceps, digging your nails into the flesh.

[nightmarishwaltz]

Unspoken Desires - Lee Know x Fem!Reader

Pairings: bff! Lee Know x Fem! Reader; Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, friends to lovers, SLOW BURN; Warnings: Language, Mature Themes, SMUT in later chapters, slow burn - this is it I think? Let me know if I've missed anything; Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: Lee Know has always been your best friend—constant, familiar, safe. But when he shows up at your apartment one night, upset and vulnerable, the lines between friendship and something more begin to blur. A moment of comfort turns into something deeper, forcing you both to finally confront the feelings you’ve been avoiding for years.

A/n: Hey everyone! This is a little different from my usual content, but I’ve been deep in a Stray Kids phase lately and couldn’t resist writing something for Lee Know. This is actually my first full fanfic, so I’d love to hear your thoughts! If people are interested, I plan to continue this series, so let me know if you'd like more! So please don't forget to like, comment and/or reblog

This work will and does contain mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Chapter 1 - The Quiet Storm

The apartment is quiet except for the steady rhythm of the rain against your windows. It’s late—past midnight—but you’re still awake, curled up on the couch with your phone when your door unlocks with a quiet click.

You don’t even flinch. It’s him.

Lee Know steps inside, and the moment you see his face, you know. His expression is carefully neutral, but you can see past the mask—the slight hunch of his shoulders, the way his fingers grip too tightly around the strap of his bag. He’s exhausted, but more than that, he’s frustrated. He doesn’t look at you right away. Instead, he pulls off his cap, runs a hand through his damp hair, and exhales, slow and heavy.

Your chest tightens.

“Rough night?” you ask softly. He lets out a sharp laugh, bitter and low. “I fucked up.”

Your brows knit together as you sit up immediately, your voice laced with concern. “Min, what are you talking about?” “The performance.” His jaw tightens. “I missed a step—on live broadcast. It wasn’t just a little mistake. It threw everything off.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Everyone covered for me, but I could tell. It was obvious.” You frown. You watched the performance. If he made a mistake, it was so minor that no one would have noticed—except him. But you don’t argue. You know how hard he is on himself, how much he expects perfection, even when everyone around him already sees it in him.

“Minho,” you say gently. “Come here.”

He hesitates for just a second before stepping closer. His gaze flickers to you, searching, but he doesn’t pull away when you reach for him. Your fingers brush his wrist before you take his hands in yours, squeezing lightly. They’re warm, slightly rough—familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. “You’re being too hard on yourself,” you say softly. “One mistake doesn’t erase everything you’ve done. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a talented dancer. It doesn’t change how incredible you are.” His gaze drops to where your fingers are tangled with his. His hands could break you if they wanted to—all that strength and precision. But when he touches you, it’s always soft. Always careful.

A long silence stretches between you. Then, almost too quietly to hear—

“I just wanted to be perfect.”

And God, your heart hurts for him.

Minho isn’t the type to spill his emotions like this. He never asks for comfort, never complains about the pressure, expectations, or relentless pursuit of something just out of reach. But you know. You know how much he sacrifices. You know how he pushes himself until his body aches and exhaustion settles deep into his bones. You know how he carries the weight of every mistake like it’s proof that he isn’t enough. You reach up before you can stop yourself, cupping his jaw and tilting his face so he has to look at you. His skin is warm beneath your palm, his breath unsteady.

“You are,” your voice is barely above a whisper.

“You always have been.”

His throat bobs. His lashes flutter. His breath catches—like he wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud. Like he’s spent years hoping you would. “You don’t get it,” he murmurs. “You look at me like I’m already enough.”

“You’ve always been enough,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Min.” It’s been there for years—this thing between you, tangled in stolen glances, lingering touches, quiet longing tucked between the lines of friendship. You’ve both ignored it, brushed it off, convinced yourselves that the feelings would fade.

But standing here now, with his hands in yours, his lips parted, his breathing coming just a little too fast—there’s no pretending anymore.

His gaze dips to your lips.

You’ve spent years convincing yourself that this wasn’t more, that friendship was enough. But standing here, with his breath warm against your skin, you know—you were always his, and he was always yours. And suddenly, he’s so close—his body inches from yours, heat radiating between you.

You can’t breathe. You don’t want to.

Your hands slide up, fingertips grazing his cheekbones, threading into his hair. You’ve always loved the way he looks after performances—his dark hair damp with sweat, his sharp features softened with exhaustion, the quiet vulnerability in his eyes that only you get to see. He’s beautiful. Not just because of his face, or the way he moves, or the way he commands a stage.

It’s the way he cares. The way he protects the people he loves without asking for anything in return. The way he’s never let you fall, even when you weren’t looking. “You deserve to be reminded of how perfect you are,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the rain.

Minho stills. You can feel his heart pounding beneath your palms. 

“…I can’t pretend anymore.”

His voice is raw, almost desperate.

And then—he falls.

His breath hitches, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world has frozen. He’s so close now, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his chest, the thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. His gaze flickers to your lips again, and something unspoken passes between you—a silent question, a shared vulnerability. He hesitates, just long enough to make your heart skip. Then, slowly, his hand slides to your waist, fingers tightening as if to anchor himself. And then, he leans in, the distance between you narrowing until there’s no room left for anything but the inevitable. The first touch of his lips is tentative, like a question, and you don’t hesitate to answer. 

His grip tightens, his body trembling as if he’s afraid to take this next step—afraid of how much it might change everything.

He presses forward, his lips crashing against yours with a desperate intensity, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the rain, the silence, the world outside. It’s just him, and it’s just you, the warmth of his body against yours, the familiar taste of him that you’ve never let yourself fully indulge in before. His hands roam over your back, pulling you closer as though he’s trying to erase the space between you, his touch almost desperate, as if this moment might slip away if he doesn’t hold on tightly enough. His fingers ghost over your skin, like he’s making sure you’re still here, still real. You kiss him back, letting the longing and the years of unsaid words pour into the touch, deepening it, pushing back against the wall as his body molds into yours. The heat between you grows, slowly but undeniably, until there’s no turning back.

“Minho, please…”

He swallows your gasp, pressing you back against the wall, his breath ragged, his body flush against yours. The rain outside keeps falling, but neither of you notice. Because right now, there is only this. The quiet storm between you. The dam finally breaking. The undeniable truth that you were never just best friends.

Minho pulls back slightly, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. His eyes flicker with something more than exhaustion now—something raw, something unspoken. For years, he’s buried this. Hid it behind jokes, behind carefully constructed walls of sarcasm and self-doubt. But now, with you so close, the walls start to crumble. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but the words stick in his throat. He swallows hard, eyes flickering between you and the floor, searching for something—anything—to say. Then, with a jagged breath, he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been pretending… pretending I didn’t feel this. Pretending it wasn’t there. But I can’t anymore. I can’t keep pretending I don’t want this.”

Gradient divider credit goes to @fae-and-wolf

[saturnicos]

Hi! Can you make a Hazbin Hotel Headcanons of how the characters would comfort a reader who is having a panic attack.

Yeah! Ironically, I had a pre-episode panic attack during a class today, writing this helped me avoid a meltdown.

Of course, if you wanted into a different perspective (or other characters, since I don't write many at once), feel free to tell me :)

HH cast comforting !reader having a panic attack

With: Charlie, Alastor, Lucifer, Adam, Angel Dust

Context: Panic attack can happen any time, without any motivation. Unfortunately, that's hits you more often than you would like. In a middle of a conversation with them, you start to feel anxious and afraid, eyes widening and an immense desire to cry appearing. How would them comfort you?

. Charlie

— Oh! And I created a new plan that I would lik.. — Charlie interrupts herself as soon as she sees his eyes roaming the room, your leg shaking while the sound of your heartbeat was heard loud enough.

She knows that happens with some frequency and often is ready when happen. Actually, she's a bit imperative and has its moments of generalized anxiety; although it's not the same thing, it has a basis of what she can or cannot do to help you.

— Honey, look at me, please — She ask to you, holding your hand and looking at your eyes with a serious expression in her face. — It's ok, you'll be fine, you're safe with me. Now, breathe in and out with me.

She starts as an example, taking a deep breath through her nose and releasing the air through her mouth. Despite your mind clouded with fear and derealization, your eyes locked onto hers, unconsciously repeating what exercise she replicates, feeling your breathing regularize slowly, despite the tremor and fear continuing.

She smile at you, holding your hand with a little more strength and delicacy. She moves forward with her free arm at her side, asking for permission for a hug. You, without hesitation, allow it, approaching her and hugging her tightly, feeling her face resting above your head, allowing you to cry into her coat if you felt like you needed to.

— Don't forget to breath, it'll calm yourself. I'm here for you.

. Lucifer

He knows what gonna happen even before you. This man faces various emotional and psychological problems daily, he recognizes very well when someone seems to have a tendency to have a crisis. Especially coming from you.

The first thing he notices is your hand starting to shake and your eyes threatening to water. He's quick to cup your face with both hands, making sure you're looking and listening to him.

— Sweetie, hear me. — He asks in a gently voice, making sure not to get too close to you for fear that this would only trigger a sudden worsening of the attack. — Calm down, I'm with you, there's anything here that can hurt you.

Even with his supportive phrases, your tremor only got worse as your blood pressure only tended to drop, slowly obscuring your vision and slowing down your breathing.

— Here — His voice echoed in your mind, as if partially clearing the intrusive and distressing thoughts. An angelic voice. — Can you tell me five things in this room, please?

You didn't know from where this come, but tried to see something even with a bad vision. And you did it. Then he asked for four things that you could touch. After three that you could hear, after...

When you came to, out of the derealization, you noticed the tactic that he used to calm you down: 5-4-3-2-1, a way to distract the mind of fear to understand what was around you, consequently making you come to your senses when you noticed the space.

He also noticed as your breathing returned to normal and your body gradually shook less and less, smiling at you tenderly.

. Adam

He's a bitch. A fucking bitch.

At first, when he sees your eyes watering in the middle of the conversation he will think that some comment or joke of his got to you, and sincerely? He'd probably find it funny that you're bothered by this at this point.

— What's up, bitch? That wasn't even that aggressive — He responded in a mocking voice, leaning across the table toward you. His tone of voice was filled with a visible desire to laugh.

However, when he noticed that you ignored his comment and were shaking unnaturally, the expression on his mask changed to one that alternated between doubt and amazement.

The mask's mouth constantly opened and closed, as if he were interrupting whenever he thought about commenting on something.

— Fuck — He sighed heavily as he let out an audible curse, getting up from his seat and heading towards him, but stopped next to you when he noticed that he was a piece of shit with emotional comfort, especially with words of affirmation.

With an expression of uncertain, he took off his terminator mask and threw it on the table, looking at the office door, confirming that there was no one there that could burst into the room.

He then crouched down next to you, watching you cover your face with hands shaking, stifling a sob. Not really sure what do, he brought his hand to your back, patting it friendly as a strange way of showing support, since 1. he didn't know how to verbalize it and 2. he couldn't do it. But deep down he would like to try and provide some kind of support.

— I have no fucking idea how to help you, but... You know, if you need a shoulder, you've got me.

. Angel Dust

He knows what it's like to have an emotional breakdown and derealization, after all, it is something that constantly impacts him almost always after the work.

Despite the solution he always seeks for himself be the use of medication and perhaps a little alcohol, he would never make that an option for you since he doesn't want to inflict drug use on you. Health reason.

— Baby, is a hug okay? — he asks you in a compassionate tone, bowing his head slightly to the side as he raised his left hand to rest it on your shoulder.

When you nod, he wraps you in a hug with all four of his arms. A comfortable but not strong hug, allowing you to leave if you wish.

— You need to stabilize your heart rate, you know? Do what I do — He then took a deep breath for a few seconds and then let it out, repeating the process two more times before encouraging you to try.

You snuggled into your spot on the couch trying to control the shaking and tears as you repeated breathing exercise with difficulty. At first it was painful and burned your lungs, but Angel advised you to try again as soon as you felt like you could try.

— I don't have work today, how about a movie? I promise it won't be any of my big movies, your choice. — He laughed quietly, trying to lighten the sad mood with a light dirty joke as he picked up the controller. When he could hear a low chuckle from you, his smile grew.

. Alastor

He literally has no idea what happened to you. Alastor died before psychology studies were taken seriously, and particularly he was never someone very social or interpersonal, then see you having a mental imbalance suddenly was ridiculously weird.

He just stood there looking at you with that stupid smile on his face, trying to find some logic behind your attitude so that he could do something about it.

After a given moment thinking, in a snap of his fingers he manifested a tea set in the center table in the room. However, the withering smell of coffee took its place when he took one of the cups for himself and offered another one for you - one that smelled like valerian, a plant that helped with irregular heartbeat.

He looked at you as he sipped his own cup of black coffee with legs crossed, as if waiting for you to go ahead and drink the tea.

You then gave in and drank, pouring a few drops into your lap due to tremor. The tea actually wasn't that bad. As soon as he passed by your throat, the effect seemed to have already begun, gradually relaxing your muscles and calming your fear.

Along with the feeling of relaxation, an aroma of oils penetrated the room, making a combination in the air of more diverse aromas and smells in a pleasant mix.

By your side, Alastor beamed a satisfied smile as he helped himself to more coffee, talking to you again, occasionally asking if you wanted more tea or if you felt okay.

I love sm write comfort, but thinking about the angst before is painfully sad//

Thank you for read, have a good day or a good night :)

[instinctualdesires]

✸ we. are. venom [1.]

✸ You were going to completely give up on dating when your friend Anne sets you up with her ex-fiance. Hesitant, you accept and ready to leave if it goes sideways. However, Eddie has a secret that you weren't put off by in the slightest- instead it can fulfill desires you only thought to be pure fantasy.

✸ Eddie/Venom x afab!gn!reader

✸ 18+, rough sex, tentacle sex, cunilingus, aftercare (part 2)

✸ Reader is AFAB but is not gendered in any way. Originally posted on my Ao3. Finally put it here! Had to finally get this blog set up for my general 18+ fics but didn't want a billion Ao3 psueds lol

✸ Ao3 Link | Part 2

You knew Anne well, despite only being her friend for five months, you would consider her a close friend. Despite this- you two had very different social circles. She had told you a lot about her ex-fiance, all in a positive light of course since they were still very good friends. You knew what she was doing though, she was trying to set you two up.

You would have been more on board with the idea, but dating has not been kind to you in the past few months. You honestly wanted to just stop dating all together and “focus on yourself” as they say when men are just too much (or not enough). However, you've noticed that she's been getting bolder in her plans to get you two together as she, without your permission, set you up on a date with him in his apartment. Like really? What was she thinking?

“Come on! He's a really nice guy and I think you both would go well together!” She gently slapped her hands on the wheel as you both sat in her car in front of his apartment. You refused to get out.

“Anne please, I love you, but please. This is too much! I don't really date anymore and you know this!” Groaning, you tried to plead with her, you just wanted to go home and relax.

“No. As your friend I am doing this for your own good. That's why you need to get out! I know you're just gonna sit on your ass all day watching Netflix by yourself. Trust me, Eddie is a good guy. He'll take care of you” Sighing, you weighed the options in your mind again (also that callout was extremely unnecessary) before biting the bullet and doing something you might regret.

“Ugh- fine Anne. You win” She exclaimed ‘Yes!’ as she pumped a fist in excitement before clearing her throat and setting her arm on your shoulder. “But! You owe me one if this goes sideways”

“Ok, ok, I do. But I just want to warn you-”

“Warn me? You couldn't have mentioned this earlier before I agreed?” You raised an eyebrow, was it too late to say no?

“It's nothing bad! Trust me! But if he can seem..off at times and like he's talking to himself just…don't bail…ok? He may seem “crazy” but if he trusts you enough, he'll tell you. And if he does. Please don't freak out. He's been through more than you will ever know, but he isn't bad” You're already freaking out. Off at times, talking to himself? You were quick to judge when you haven't even met him yet, but the last part really caught your attention. ‘Been through a lot more than you will ever know’. Plus, Anne isn't the type to keep bad company around. She will drop anyone who isn't a good person and isn't afraid of standing up for herself or others.

“Ok…I trust you a lot Anne. But again, if this goes sideways-”

“I owe you yes, yes. I got it. Now go meet your future husband!” Before you could properly respond to her stupid comment, she kept pushing you against the door until you opened it and stood outside. Making sure you had everything, you shut the door and she rolled the window down, wanting to say one last thing to you.

“Call me if you need anything. Have fun!” She blew you a kiss and a wink as she zoomed off, more than happy to leave you at a man's apartment whom you've never met before. Taking a deep breath, you turned around and stared at the apartment building, looking towards the higher floors as Eddie has one facing the street. Could he be watching you right now?

Now or never.

Heading to the street level door, you unlocked it with the spare key Anne gave you and noticed that the apartment building seemed decently middle class. Not too fancy to look like a five-star hotel, but nice enough to not have roaches running around and daily maintenance is kept up on.

“B-39” You muttered as you headed to the stairs and walked up them. He was only on the second floor so taking the elevator seemed useless to you, the stairs is a lot faster. It wasn't long before you landed on his floor and hunted for his number. You quickly found it via directions given to by Anne, which made you realize just how much she used to come here. Staring at the number plate, then at the door, then at your phone tempted to text her “I can't do it”, you finally decided to face your fears.

You knocked. It was as if he was standing right next to the door as it quickly opened, revealing your date for the night. Anne showed you many pictures of him (no doubt to get you foaming at the mouth) so his appearance wasn't a huge shock. You would never admit it- but he was hot. Even though he cleaned up really nice, he still had this rugged look to him. In the pictures you saw, he typically wore sweatpants and a graphic tee shirt. But right now, he was wearing a nice pair of jeans with a plain white tee shirt. His hair wasn't ruffled or all over the place, but instead fixed up. Your anxiety was going a bit haywire, you could feel your heart beating fast as you really took in just what you're doing here.

“Hello! I uh- I'm sorry about Anne really. She can be a bit much with trying to get me with someone new. But welcome! Come in!” He laughed awkwardly as he opened the door wider and stepped aside to let you come in. He honestly was kind of adorable, Anne must be getting desperate if she was doing for this for a while and you were her latest target.

“Oh its ok! Trust me, I know how she can be with these kind of things. She's very stubborn” You chuckled as you took in the space. It was lived in for sure, but you could tell he tried to tidy up before your arrival. The smell immediately caught your attention, however, as Eddie was cooking dinner for you both.

“This is a nice place. And you're not too bad looking yourself” Smirking, your anxiety was still present, but you felt like being bold.

“You're pretty hot too, I mean uh- you're cool! You're uh, not too bad yourself” He coughed as if it would save the moment of him calling you hot. It made you chuckle and felt a bit of tension leaving your body as mutual attraction was present already. Eddie was staring at you when something beeped in the kitchen, causing him to spring into action.

“Oh shoot, I almost forgot about that! Ha ha…making your favorite because Anne told me this was your favorite…so…” Your heart melted as he rushed over there, making sure not to burn anything. He remembered your favorite dish after Anne told him about you- or he asked her what he should cook and she said that. Either way it felt sweet he decided to try to make it himself instead of ordering from some random restaurant.

Since he was now busy finishing it, you decided to set your bag on the couch and sit at the dining table. As you scrolled through your phone, you overheard Eddie talking to…himself? Anne did warn you about that, but he seemed like a good guy.

“No we are not doing that! At least not right now!” If he was trying to be quiet, it wasn't working, but you wouldn't dare him about it unless he brings it up first. You tried to act normal as you waited for him to finish, resisting all urges to get closer.

“Venom- no” Venom? Who was that? It wasn't long before he had everything plated and with a smile, came over with two plates. One for you and one for himself. He set yours down before sitting down himself.

“And dinner is served. I don't cook too often for myself, so I hope it's good” You chuckled and took a bite, immediately loving it.

“This is really good!” You took another bite, and another, and soon the entire dish was devoured. Right after you realized how that must have looked and cleared your throat, wiping your face.

“Sorry I guess I was really hungry…” You laughed awkwardly as he looked shocked at how fast you ate it all. You swore you could see a blush form on his face before he cleared his throat.

“No, no! Don't apologize! I'm really glad you like it! I really don't cook like this often so…I'm glad!” He smiled before his body suddenly jerked in a weird way, causing him to swear. You raised an eyebrow as he apologized and stood up abruptly before seemingly being pulled by…something you couldn't see into the bathroom and shutting the door.

What was this dude's deal? You heard Eddie talking but couldn't make out what he was saying, it sounded like he was having a conversation with someone despite it only being him. The other voice was hard to make out too, but sounded deeper. Suddenly, the bathroom door rattled, like someone was thrown against it. Both voices were getting louder, like they were having an argument. You looked at the time on your phone and realized that Eddie had been in the bathroom for at least three minutes. As you looked up from your phone, he finally opened the door and walked out, looking flustered and a bit frustrated.

“Sorry about that uh…so! I heard a lot about you from Anne but uh…tell me about yourself from well…you” Laughing awkwardly, he ushered you to the couch, not having you worry about cleaning up. You sat down and he sat down with a healthy distance between you both, mentally thanking him for not invading your personal state so soon. He definitely was awkward- that much was apparent, that didn't take away from his attractiveness to you though. You honestly thought it was endearing, but you still wondered what his deal was.

You told him all about yourself, all the basics: what you did for work, the general area where you lived, that kind of stuff. In turn, he told you stuff about himself. You learned that he was an investigative reporter who had something…big happen to him after he accidentally ruined the reputation of another reporter in NYC. That's when it hit you- you remember that story! You were never big in the reporter sphere, but you remember that story. You also remembered when he was fired from his second job- something to do with the Life Foundation that was kept under wraps.

“Oh! I remember you now!” You exclaimed, causing him to sigh and rub his temple.

“Yeah that uh- wasn't my proudest moment- or many moments. But I'm a different man now” He definitely wasn't proud at that moment, but you had to give it to him to change. You're glad that he was able to get his old job back and return to normal.

“Hey, we all make mistakes Eddie” You set a hand on his shoulder and gave him a soft smile, he gave one back. “What matters is how we handle that mistake and what we can do moving forward to change for the better” With your free hand, you grasped one of his to give him comfort. All of the sudden, he tensed up.

“No, Venom” He whispered, which made you feel frustrated that he wasn't telling the truth. You went back and forth in your head about it, and decided that you needed him to be honest. You wanted to get to know him more, and it was obvious that he wanted to get to know you more too.

“Eddie, if we want this to work, you need to be honest with me, ok? I keep hearing you talk to this…Venom person and really need you to tell me the truth here. I won't tell anyone else. I think you’re adorable and hot and…I want this to work. So trust me, be honest” Your heart was beating out of your chest, hoping this didn’t go south and he kicked you out for asking. You moved your hand from his shoulder and grabbed his other hand, making sure you held both of them and looked at his eyes with a pleading yet gentle look. He sighed and looked away before looking back.

“Ok, I trust you. I really like you too, but it’s better if I show you…” You could tell he was very nervous as he stood up and gave you a worried look. Then, what looked like black goop started to consume his body, giving him a buff appearance, and his body was fully covered in the stuff when his head was replaced with one with a sharp grin and white eyes.

“Hello. We are Venom”

[kinichval]

game's over, you exist now, to my doom.

level one.

"we'll get one breakfast clubhouse, two chicken fillets, one bacon croissant, one slice of chocolate cake, and four brewed coffee please." xilonen relays the group's order in which the waiter repeats for confirmation, exchanges of gratitude take place before all eyes shoot and fixate at you.

the presence of drowsiness still linger in your body, the slight rush of adrenaline from when you were dashing back and forth in your apartment while getting ready has already expired, now you're fighting for your life not to drop your head and doze off on the cloud nine-like chair.

"did studying for finals screw you up hard or were you playing minecraft the whole night?" lumine interrogates, her brow slightly raised, mualani and xilonen had a similar look plastered on their faces. their stares were heavy on your shoulder, a pressuring weight that wants to force an admission out of you.

"kind of, a couple of subjects are a pain in the ass to deal with." you reason out hoping that their girl instincts would allow this to slide, whatever happened last night was something you don't want to think about.

it's complicated — you convinced yourself it is when in truth; it shouldn't have been that deep. if anything, it was just measly school glue that binded the almost relationship you and kaito had. no commitment happened, just a confession, now empty promises, and a prayer that it'll be the greatest love story of all time.

finally taking the hints of your hesitation, mualani changes the subject to which lumine and xilonen politely listens to, laughing at the hilarious parts and sharing side comments in between.

this gives you an open door to shut out the world, a few seconds of breathing should be enough to get you back in shape even just for this moment, right? you didn't want them to worry about your mental being, moreover you didn't want to open up (and most likely breakdown) just yet.

you remain silent, defending your quiet behavior with the fact that you only have one mouth and it's occupied with eating that you'd rather not speak until you're done. this wasn't your typical self, but they collectively understood that pushing you to the edge will only ruin your composure.

still, they manage to make you feel included and in return, you respond and try your best to just be present.

time check, classes are about to start. after settling the bill and getting ready to face the wrath of uni; lumine and xilonen bid their goodbyes upon the realization that there's exactly five minutes before their afternoon classes. thankfully, there's still around thirty minutes to spare for you and mualani, so she stays beside you, a maternal expression of concern veils on her pretty face. "you alright?" she knows for sure you'll say yes, and you did.

mualani, known for her outgoing persona, stays still in this moment — like a calm beach shore. she has this aura that somehow feels like water washing over your toes and bringing in oddly but prettily shaped seashells along, so you take a deep breath.

"kaito—"

you were cut short when mualani tugs on your arm right after the door opens and the bell chimes as a new customer comes in. oh, maybe the grim reaper couldn't get his hands on you so he sends your ex-almost-boyfriend hand-in-hand with that girl to kill you the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

"let's get ice cream."

previous | home | level up

when yn's gaming hobby fluctuated after (stupidly) getting disappointed with a gamer she fell in love with, she's out there on valorant rage-gaming her heartbreak and ranting out to strangers who try to mock her d-level aiming skills; and kinich, who was just trying a newly released agent, got wired up in her incessant rambling and the unwanted responsibility to teach her how to play.

⚡︎ @animelover100 @fandomfan-102 @bvtterflyyy @viannasthings @mang0515 @aries-afk @xiaomainlmao @usagiarchive @marivaudages @lalalaloveallmydays @jiminscarmex @aetherialcrafter @yelleloww @rattyrattyratty (bold can not be tagged)

[juniperdugong]

Make a Prince out of Him

Pairing: Jun x GN!reader Genre: Fluff CW: Very slightly suggestive (not even lol) WC: 394

Day 7 of To Halloween with Love Event

A/N: And when my Manhwa/Manhua obsession starts to show... what then?!

"Umm, love?" Jun's tone was very hesitant as it traveled from your shared bedroom to the living room where you sit impatiently waiting for your man to show off the costume that he let you pick out for him.

"Yes, Junnie!" You were practically bouncing off the wall with excitement. "Need help?"

"No no, I just... I don't know if this one is appropriate for the public, lovely..." He walks out and you're met with such a magical site, nearly drooling as your jaw drops. Jun comes out in a loose-fitting costume resembling traditional men's hanfu but revealing... so much more than it was supposed to be. "It shows my entire upper half... is it supposed to do that? Did we get sent a faulty costume?"

"Mmm... maybe?" And the look on your face does nothing to hide your true intentions. You bought the costume knowing that it would be a bit revealing, you and Jun had even looked over it together before you pressed "buy - But neither of you expected it to be this revealing, and maybe you didn't expect it to look this hot on your handsome boyfriend (what a silly assumption for you to make.)

"What should we do? I mean I can go out like this I gue-"

"NO!" You jump to cut him off, there's no way anyone but you is seeing him looking this good. The fan edits and fansite pictures would be gorgeous... But no! There were just some things that needed to be kept sacred! Sure his fans have seen his body but... not like this and special circumstances call for special measures.

"Junnie... Umm- let's just get you some fangs and some contacts and you go as a vampire this time? Hm?" He turns to you a bit confused but doesn't realize that he causes the robes to flow open as he faces you - Yeah, he's made for acting for sure with the way this scene is straight out of a drama...

"I went as that for Halloween last year though-"

"They won't mind! A different vampire look, maybe we can find something to make it a Jiangshi? A princely Jiangshi?" You're trying to think of anything to put to use the costume you have on deck while also being able to cover him up more, "they'll eat it up anyways... trust me..."

A/N: A Jiangshi is a Chinese hopping vampire for those who don't know! With everything going on in caratland rn I hope everyone's doing alright and that this maybe lifts your spirits a bit! Seriously... it's been going down for the past month WE CANT CATCH A BREAK!

Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda @porridgesblog

[clarkeyhill]

☁️She's like a shot of espresso| Arthur Hill

[When you met Arthur he was known for having a temper, quick to react at any simple given moment, but since you've been dating his temperament has changed, he's more calm, laid back and less hot headed]

It was quiet in the flat, Arthur was out practising for his upcoming tour, you had nothing to do so you decided to make some dinner for when Arthur returned, you made a basic sausage casserole, it was a cold autumn night and you couldn't think of anything better than a hearty meal. You decide to live stream on TikTok as you cook, something to pass the time by; you engaged with your followers as you did Arthur's, some filtered through to ask about him and you responded, feeling like you'd made a family through the screen, someone asks a personal questions and you are reluctant to answer it.

"Do you think Arthur will ever stop being quick to anger, he seems hostile in recent his videos"

You study the comment with a dry throat, you knew he'd been having a stressful time and didn't want to discuss him personally, so you brush past it. The comments pops up again and you hesitate "I've seen the comment and I'm going to choose not to discuss my boyfriend in that context, he's a great person and I love him dearly, please don't comment it again" you smile, not wanting to sound rude. You leave the casserole to simmer as you say bye to the viewed and end the live. You set the table, waiting for Arthur to come back.

Just as you were stirring the food your phone rings "hey love, I'm on my way home, what're you doing?" He says softly "Im just stirring tea, you hungry?" You reply "you're an angel, it's just what I need right now, see you soon, love you" he says "love you too" you reply. The door turns and Arthur's home "that smells amazing" he says kicking his shoes off "how was practise" you say hugging him "it was good, I got a little bit annoyed because my throat was scratchy but it was a start" he says, the comments flickers in your mind as he mentions the word annoyed; he notices your face shift "what's wrong?" He says looking at you with concern "oh nothing, just a comment on my live from earlier" you say "what was it?" He furrows his brows "someone just mentioned that you were hostile in your videos and they asked me if I thought you'd ever not be angry" you say frowning, "oh.." he says, your heart shatters as he walks away from you "Arthur the content was filmed before we met, they will see how much you've changed" you say with reassurance "yeah, maybe" he says with a sigh. "Look forget the comment, let's eat and snuggle in bed with a movie" you say "i can't, I need to go somewhere" your brows furrow again "after food right? Where?" He gets up and walks to the corridor, slipping his shoes on "I just need..some air" he says walking out the door. Your face drops, you felt a wave of guilt as your stomach drops, you turn the food off and leave it on the stove.

You decide to text George incase he appeared at the flat.

You: "hey George, if Arthur comes by will you let me know, he's walked out and I'm not sure where he's got to"

George replies instantly: "yeah sure, is everything okay?"

You: "I'm not sure, I brought up a comment someone made about his temper and he just..left"

George: "that's strange, I'll let you know if he comes over"

You: "thanks George"

You pace round the flat, 20 minutes go by and you receive a text from George "he's here and he's stressed"

You heart sinks as you grab your keys, rushing out the door, you make your way over to the flat. You knock on the door as George opens it, you see a frantic Arthur pacing in the background "hey" you say sighing as you walk in the door.

"Artie" you say as he looks at you "y/n, please I just want to be alone right now" he says, you eyes become heavy "baby I'm on your side, let me in please" you say pleaing, George leaves you two to talk as he heads to his room "take all the time you need" he says as you smile at him; Arthur clutches at his knuckles, his anxiety was hitting a high, you rush over to him and grab him tight; he tries to resist but you squeeze him so hard if you squeezed any tighter you'd pop. When Arthur has the episodes, you use your body weight as an anxiety jacket, clutching him to shield him. "Please y/n" he grunts, wanting you to get off "Arthur you know I'm not hear to hurt you, just hug me back" you say he tries one more push but fails, he gives in and his arms lock around you. His body went from tense to soft almost immediately, his face sinks into your shoulder as he lets out a few sobs, you rub his head "let it out baby, let all the stress out onto me, I know you're trying your hardest and we're all here for you" your words wrap his heart like a bandaid, healing his ache. You both slide down to the floor as his emotions flood out of him, he was stressed, tired, run down and his brave facade had to fade at some point.

"I'm trying y/n, I really am" he sobs "I know baby, we all know, the comment was stupid and that's why I didn't answer it, you're making progress and the only people that matter are me and your friends" you see George poke around the corner as you wave him in, he kneels beside you both. "You're doing a great job pal, you've nothing to hold back when you're hear and you know that, y/n is in your corner 100% just like all of us" George says patting him on the back. You all have a small heart to heart as Arthur calms down, the stress radiates out of him with every little bit of release of words; communicating with you both about the stress. After a while you leave George, thanking him for letting you know he was here. You wave him goodbye as you go back to your flat, Arthur still puffy faced you link hands as you get to your home.

You walk inside and turn to him "I made casserole" you say smiling, he looks up at you with heavy eyes "Thankyou baby, I'm sorry" he looks at you with sad eyes "you have nothing to be sorry for artie, your feelings matter the same as anyone else's and I'm glad you could get it out, now let's eat and get tucked in bed, okay?" You say holding out your hand as he takes it with no hesitation. You finish your food as you place the bowls in the sink, you both scooch over to your room as you put on you pjs and put a Netflix series on. You sit up as Arthur burys his head in your chest. He lets out a big sigh of relief; "you okay?" You say stroking his curls "I'm fine now I've got you, you've really helped me throughout this and I can't Thankyou enough, even though I try to push you away" he says kissing your hand "I would never let you push me away, I know you don't mean to, we love you baby" you say kissing his forehead "you know, come to think of it, you're like my shot of espresso" he says sitting up, "how so?" You reply looking at him "you motivate me, put a kick in my step and make me feel..alive" he says cupping your cheek "oh artie" you say hugging him "I love you baby" you add on "I love you to pretty girl, thanks for being my rock" you smile into his shoulder.

-

🫶🏻

[hederasgarden]

Ciao bella!! For your requests...

How's about #8 with Bodyguard Walter Marshall? You know I'm a sucker for those curls. 😘😘

I continue to suck at writing 100 word drabbles so here you go. Enjoy!

Pairing: Walter Marshall x F!Reader  Word Count: 841 Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angsty, violence, whump and soft Walter. A/N: This is my first Walter fic and my first time writing for a Henry Cavill character so be kind! Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

The world seems to move in slow motion, every detail sharp and painful. A high-pitched drone rings in your ears while dust chokes your throat, making it difficult to breathe. When you touch your head, your hand comes away bloody and you blink in an attempt to clear your vision. Somewhere in the distance, you hear the wail of sirens. You try to make sense of it all but your mind struggles to hold onto any thought too long. 

Glass crunches under your heels as you take a hesitant step forward. You wobble, pitching toward the ground until a pair of strong arms catch you. You look up and Walter's face comes into focus, his features sharp and concerned despite the surreal blur around you. His lips move under his thick beard, but it sounds like he’s speaking underwater. 

You shake your head and he shifts closer. His warm, calloused hands cup your face and you wince when his thumb presses against the cut on your head. Behind him, you can see what remains of the hallway. There’s a single shoe in the middle of the floor and your stomach lurches, catching sight of a body. 

"Hey. Look at me."

Walter grips your jaw almost painfully and your attention snaps back to him. Suddenly, everything comes rushing back. You were angry, arguing with him and another FBI agent about whether you should testify. They had security concerns but you were determined, it was your only chance to put away your boss —the corrupt DA in the pocket of the mob. That was right before the first bomb exploded. 

"Oh god,” you whisper, horrified.

"It's okay, you're okay," he soothes, his voice calm and steady despite the chaos. "We're going to get out of this, but I need you to listen to me, can you do that?"

"Yes."

"That's good," Walter praises. 

His hands drop to your shoulders and then down your arms, applying careful pressure as he goes. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know he’s checking for injuries but right now all you can focus on is how reassuring his touch feels. If he’s with you, you’re safe. He would never let anything bad happen to you. That thought alone is enough to pull you from the swirling panic that threatens to drown you. 

"We need to check in on the rest of the team," you tell him. Walter's voice is gentle as he says your name, but you shake your head firmly, trying to push past the haze of confusion. ”No, we need to—"

"You're my priority," he interrupts. "I need to get you out. There's no case without you.”

"We can't leave them."

"I'm sorry,” Walter says softly as his thumb brushes away the tears that escape. ”They're gone," 

Your eyes dart behind him and you see the horrific reality you hadn’t fully registered before. Three bodies lay on the floor—your friends and colleagues. The realization feels like a lance through your chest, stealing your breath. You look back at Walter, tears falling silently. 

A distant boom makes both of you flinch. The building shudders violently, sending plaster dust cascading from the ceiling. 

"We need to go."

You nod and Walter wraps an arm around your waist to hold you close as he guides you over the debris. When you try to look back, he places a firm hand on the side of your face, his fingertips brushing against your temple.

"Don't look," he says, urging you to tuck your face into his chest.

Your fingers curl into the soft fabric of his sweater as your body moves on autopilot, guided by him, until you’re finally outside. From there, everything becomes a blur, moments merging into a disjointed sequence—the paramedics stitching you up, the uneasy ride in the back of a strange SUV, and now, this safe house.

You watch Walter pace the living room, his hand resting on his gun as he stops to peer out the curtains. His black curls are still dusted with white plaster.  Every part of you feels grimy and tacky.

"I want to go home," you say, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it catches Walter’s attention. He lets the curtain fall back into place, blocking out the outside world. You wrap your arms around yourself and rock forward.  "Please."

"You know that's not possible.” he reminds you not patiently. “We’re gonna be stuck here for a while."

The floor creaks beneath him as he moves to stand directly in front of you. He touches your shoulder and you look up at him through wet lashes. 

"You should get cleaned up. There's some toiletries and clothes for you in the bathroom." When you don’t move he sighs, touching your chin. “Go on.”

It’s a testament to how exhausted and overwhelmed you are that you follow his gentle command without argument. At the door you pause, looking back at him with a silent question in your eyes. 

“I’ll be here when you get out,” he promises.

Send me a request

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dark Boss Clark Kent or Bully Sy??

Bully Sy who happens to be your boss

Help (Un)Wanted

Warnings: this drabble includes bullying and self-esteem issues. Please proceed with caution. This is not fluff.

Please leave a comment and reblog.

"Girl, what're you looking so dumb for?" The burly man snarls as he grabs a wrench. 

"Your-- your two o'clock is here. Mr., er, Mr.... Cray--" 

"Crayton," Sy snarls and you nod. You sway nervously as he lays back and rolls under the car again. "Don't I look busy? Hell, you go on and tell him to wait." 

"S-sir--" 

"Scram," he spits. 

You don’t hesitate to do exactly that. You flee the smell of oil, though it wafts through the entire place, along with the damp chill. Just like your boss’ anger, neither relent. You smile at Mr. Crayton as you emerge and resume your perch behind the front desk. 

“Um, he’ll be a couple minutes. He has to clean up.” 

Sy is just as good as dealing with his customers as he is you. You feel bad for him. He can’t be very happy if that’s how he treats people. The way his face turns red and that vein bulges in his forehead, he can’t have much peace. You don’t dwell on it. Like your dad, he won’t change. 

You go back to your crossword book as you wait. The radio drones behind you, filling the dearth, and Crayton taps his toe impatiently. People might not like the grumpy mechanic, but they respect his work. He charges a fair price and he’s efficient. 

“Did he say how long?” Crayton asks as he puts down the magazine in his hands. 

“Umm, not long,” you lie. With Sy, it could be a few minutes or an hour. 

“Can I leave my keys with ya? I gotta get to my kids’ game. You just tell him it keeps stalling.” He stands and crosses to your desk. 

“Oh, er, sure, I can do that.” 

“Thanks,” he says curtly and drops his keys on the desk. 

Before you know it, he’s on his phone and halfway to the door. You suppose he has more important things than waiting around on the mercurial mechanic. You’re only there because you get paid for that task. 

You turn on the squeaky chair and turn the dial in search of a different station. You find something relatively recent and go back to trying to find a seven-letter word that might describe a cactus or unpleasant person. 

You hear Sy before he comes out. He wipes his thick fingers on an oil-stained cloth and growls as his eyes search the front room. “Where’d he go then?” 

“He had to go. Left his keys. Says it keeps stalling’.” 

“Goddamnit, girl,” he snarls as he stomps towards you, “you couldn’t tell him to wait?” 

“His appointment was forty minutes ago--” 

“I didn’t ask that, did I? You really are stupid. You know, if I didn’t like your daddy, you wouldn’t have a job,” he scoffs. “Then you’d truly be useless.” 

You frown and set the pen between the pages, “sorry, sir, I tried--” 

“Tried.” He shakes his head. “Thought I asked ya to put coffee on.” 

You glance over at the machine. “I did... couple hours ago.” 

“Well, it’s cold,” he charges over to the table in the corner. “You want me to drink this piss?” 

“No, sir,” you stand, “I’ll make some new stuff. It’s okay.” 

“It’s okay? You sittin’ there with your puzzles like you actually got a brain,” he sneers. “You fill up my mug and bring it to me. Too busy to be dealin’ with your lazy ass.” 

You wince as you empty the filter and set a new one in the basket. You don’t like your job and it seems your job doesn’t like you. You can’t do anything right. It’s better than having nothing at all and in a small town, that’s more likely than not. You can put up with Sy for the cash, even if it isn’t very much. 

As he leaves, you let the breath out of your tight chest. You got out into the garage to retrieve his insulated cup. The silver is dented and scratch from years of use. You take it and rinse it out in the tiny bathroom. 

The coffee brews slowly and you fill his cup, twisting on the lid tight. He likes it black. That doesn’t surprise you, as bitter as he can be. You take it out to the garage as he pulls Crayton’s car in through the open door. 

You put the thermos on his table as he slams the door. His treads hammer across the floor as he lumbers toward you. You back up and he huffs. 

“Maybe you should have a cup and wake up,” he jeers as he snatches the cup. 

“Sir,” you clasp your hands together. “Anything else?” 

“Didn’t I tell ya to sweep up?” 

“I did--” 

“Well do it again. I don’t pay ya to sit around. You’re not pretty enough for that,” he turns away, nearly knocking you with his elbow. 

You back up and turn away. As much as he likes your dad, you don’t get why he agreed to this. It’s been six months and nothing’s gotten better. You told your dad and he just laughed and said ‘that’s Sy’. Your mom told you to grow and do your work.  

You can’t argue with either of them so long as you live under their roof. Twenty-four and you’re still at their table eating their food. Maybe they think you deserve it. Maybe your dad did it on purpose. After all, they never missed an opportunity to tell you how unwanted you are. 

“Call Eileen. Her car’s ready,” Sy hollers after you. “And in my fucking way.” 

[feyascorner]

You writing is amazing! I eat it right up!

Now this idea has been stuck in my hand for a while. Tav that wants to give Astarion blood but are horrified of needles and that fear applies to his fangs. So when they try to give blood the instinctively move away even when Astarion "The bit comes in 3 2 1" but Tav insist on trying again. When Astarion finally gets some blood Tav straight just goes "Oh okay great" and faceplants in the ground. When they wake up again they say the weirdest shit because they are still whoozy something like "Hey Astarion do crabs think fish can fly?"

Anyway have a nice day :]

im crying they're so silly...also i wrote like the dumbest questions but they're genuine questions so pls if anyone has answers...

"Just do it."

He nods. "Very well."

"Wait, no, I need a countdown."

"Fine. Three...two..."

"Actually, it's too nerve-racking, just--"

Astarion pulls his face away from the crook of your neck, eyes lidded as he sighs. "Darling, if it's too difficult..."

"It's not that bad. I want to help you, and you said this would make you more powerful in battle," you insist, bursting with enthusiasm but not enough to will you through your deathly fear of needles---or anything sharp for that matter. "I've done it before, I can do it again."

"Yes, love, but the last time we did this, you had me do it while you were asleep. You also woke up and punched me in the chest, even though you're the one who suggested the idea."

"I can do it this time! Just try again!"

Despite his hesitance, he follows your request, gently inching you closer and leaning into your neck. His breath feels cool on your skin, but the second you feel him nearing too close, you pull away again instinctively. He doesn't even seem surprised this time.

"Okay, maybe we should just do it while I'm sleeping again-"

He grabs either side of your face, pressing a kiss on your cheek and then another on the side of your nose. He trails down to your chin, and before you can even tell what he's doing, your face is flushed in embarrassment. So much so that you don't even realize he's trailed down your chin and his fangs are now right at your neck. "What are you--"

It pricks.

Astarion tries to make it brief, regardless of how badly he wants to drink more, because he can sense how limp you feel in his arms. He pulls away, licking at the excess on his lips with a triumphant grin. "There. Exquisite as always."

But you only stare at him blankly. His smile drops. It worries him.

"Oh, okay," you blink. "That's great."

You would've face planted straight into the floor had he not barely grabbed you by the back of your shirt.

You only awake a few hours later, groggily rubbing at your eyes while Astarion looms over you with pursed lips, and you wonder how long he's been sitting here. When your eyes peel open, he groans, shoulders slumping in relief.

"There you are, I thought I'd nearly killed you again!" he smiles, reaching for a plate of fruits beside your bedroll. "Now feed yourself before you go and pass out on me aga--"

"Your hair reminds me of a white rat I saw last week."

He stops.

"Why do you think Karlach's underwear doesn't burn off? Are they enchanted? I want enchanted underwear."

Ah, he realizes. You've finally lost your mind.

Your lips stretch dreamily. "Maybe I can ask Withers to make my underwear glow in the dark."

"No, before we move on, let's discuss that rat comment."

"Do crabs think fish can fly?"

"I---I suppose they would?..." He's at a loss of words, which is especially rare for him.

You blink wearily at him, staring at a spot on the wall behind his head. He'd think your confusion to be adorable if it weren't for the borderline offensive comments you were spouting out like a broken water fountain. "Do vampires poop, Astarion?"

You've crossed the borderline now. He runs a hand down his face, sighing. "Please stop talking, my love."

"You can technically eat food, even though it tastes bad, right?" you raise a brow, squinting at him. "So where does that food go? Do you poop it out or does it just kind of slide ou--"

"Okay, that's quite enough talking for today," he shoves an apple into your mouth. He snickers at how you struggle to take a bite. "No more questions until you finish the entire bowl."

Fortunately for him, you fall back asleep before you're even finished with the apple. And he's grateful you do because even he himself doesn't know the answer to that question.