#ignore my ridiculously short nails

[im-literally-so-dun]

we turned our hands to guns…

[bytemee]

mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader headcannons? 🙂‍↕️

WORST BEHAVIOR — yu jimin headcannons.

read the one shot here!

pairings. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). pet names (karina calling u puppy), jealous & possessive!karina, let me know if there’s more

words. 802

authors note. this is the first time i EVER did headcannons… got too lazy to add nsfw ones though 😞

navigation. main masterlist.

mean!sorority!karina who calls you ‘puppy’ more than your actual name because, in her eyes, that’s exactly what you are—her pathetic, obedient little lapdog.

mean!sorority!karina who keeps you on a short leash. you’re not allowed to talk to certain people, go to certain parties without her knowing, or—god forbid—ignore her texts. if you take too long to respond, she’ll send a follow-up: “puppy? don’t make me come find you.”

mean!sorority!karina who loves making you flustered. she’ll drag her fingers along your jaw, trace her nails down your arms, lean in as if she’s going to kiss you—only to pull away at the last second and laugh.

mean!sorority!karina who got possessive without realizing it. she still made fun of you relentlessly, but the moment someone else tried? her tone turned cold. “i didn’t say you could talk to them.”

mean!sorority!karina who bullies you in public, but gets territorial in private. if someone else messes with you? suddenly, she’s not amused.

mean!sorority!karina who hated how much she noticed you. the way your ears turned red when she got too close. how you always showed up when she needed you, no matter how ridiculous her request was.

mean!sorority!karina who would never admit she liked you first. instead, she’d just scoff, roll her eyes, and mutter, “ugh. why do you have to be so pathetic?” as if it was your fault she was falling.

mean!sorority!karina who is the most demanding, impatient person ever. she wants kisses when she wants them, and nothing is going to stop her from getting what she wants—not even you.

mean!sorority!karina who tries to hide it, but her heart melts when you do cute things. when you offer her the last cookie, or tell her she looks nice in a dress, or hold the door open for her.

mean!sorority!karina who doesn’t know how to express her feelings properly. so, when she says, “you’re so annoying,” or, “you’re lucky i tolerate you,” or, “it’s not that i like you or anything,”—you know it really means, “i love you.”

mean!sorority!karina who acts like she’s doing you a favor by letting you be around her. “you should be grateful, puppy. not everyone gets to be my personal lapdog.” but the truth is, she’d probably go insane if you ever actually left.

mean!sorority!karina who gets jealous so easily, it’s ridiculous. she’ll roll her eyes and act uninterested, but if she catches you laughing a little too hard at someone else’s joke? she’s suddenly in your space, hands on your collar, whispering, “what’s so funny? care to share with the class?”

mean!sorority!karina who uses her nails to tease you constantly. she loves the way you freeze up when she drags them down your arm or across the back of your neck. and she always does it when she knows you can’t react—like in public or in front of her friends.

mean!sorority!karina who finds excuses to touch you, even when she doesn’t have to. adjusting your hoodie strings, fixing your hair, pulling you close by your belt loop just to whisper something unnecessary. she’s addicted to how easily she can fluster you.

mean!sorority!karina who says she doesn’t do relationships, but somehow, you’re different. she doesn’t know when it happened, but suddenly, she’s only interested in you. and when someone asks if you two are a thing, she just scoffs and says, “she’s just my pup. i keep her around.”

mean!sorority!karina who would act like she doesn’t care, but if you ever tried to leave? if you ever pulled away from her, even slightly—suddenly, she’s not so nonchalant anymore.

mean!sorority!karina who will corner you at a party, arms crossed, voice deceptively calm. “what’s this i hear about you ignoring me, puppy?” and if you try to play dumb, her lips curve into a smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes. “don’t test me.”

mean!sorority!karina who will scoff, roll her eyes, and mutter, “fine. go.” if you ever seriously consider walking away. but the second you actually turn your back, she’s grabbing your wrist, yanking you close, and whispering, “you think you can just leave me?”

mean!sorority!karina who won’t beg, won’t admit she’s scared, but if you ever really push her—if you tell her you’re done, that she can’t keep stringing you along—her mask finally cracks. her voice will drop as she mutters, “you don’t get it, do you? you’re mine, puppy.”

mean!sorority!karina who is terrified you’ll realize that somewhere along the way, she became yours, too.

[azzibuckets]

do you even love me anymore? [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: quick little blurb based on azzi’s tiktok repost

a/n: yall better not give my any heat for the fact that im so desperate that im getting inspo from tiktok reposts

word count: 700

masterlist

Paige dragged her teeth across Azzi’s collarbone, nipping at her skin and tasting the saltiness of her sweat. In response, Azzi’s grip on Paige’s hair tightened as her breath hitched, her chest heaving in sync with the pants escaping through her parted lips. Paige’s hands trailed down Azzi’s abs, tugging at the strings of Azzi’s shorts, but her hands were gently pushed away.

“What’s wrong?”

“You said we could get Yogurtland.”

Paige dipped her head back down, running her lips along the soft crease of Azzi’s neck. “You’re seriously thinking about yogurt right now?” When Azzi sighed softly and tilted her head to give Paige more access, the blonde smirked, congratulating herself for making Azzi forget about dessert so quickly.

Azzi’s eyes fluttered close. “I want gummy worms this time. And chocolate chips.”

Paige dropped her head onto Azzi’s shoulder and groaned, knowing that she was fighting a losing battle. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

With another exaggerated sugh, Paige dutifully climbed into the front seat. “What are you getting? I might take a bite.”

“You’re not getting your own?” Azzi’s face looked almost wounded.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m still full from dinner.”

“Ugh, fine. We might as we just go home then,” Azzi grumbled, purposefully ignoring Paige’s hand splayed out for hers on the console.

Paige looked in disbelief at the dark haired girl before grabbing her hand and forcefully interlocking their fingers. “Dude, we can still get you your yogurt.”

“I don’t wanna be getting dessert while you’re just watching me.”

“Azzi.”

“I’m not even hungry anymore.”

“Az, you’re being ridiculous.” The fondness in Paige’s voice was evident. When Azzi stayed silent, the older girl shook her head and started the engine. “Okay, I’m driving there anyways.”

Once they parked in front of the white building, Azzi stayed wordless, slumped low in her seat with her arms crossed and looking everywhere but the huge pink Yogurtland sign right in front of them.

“Unbelievable.” Paige reached over and unbuckled Azzi’s seatbelt, trying to prod her into getting out. “You were literally just begging me to get Yogurtland two seconds ago.”

“That was before you broke my heart and called me a fat fuck,” Azzi said, tapping her nails against the armrest.

“Well, we’re here now, so you might as well get some.”

Azzi sniffed, her nose upturned as she looked away. “Do you even love me anymore?”

“What the fuck?”

“You don’t even wanna get dessert with me. Next thing I know, you’re gonna be saying you don’t want kids with me.”

Paige rested her forehead against the wheel of her car, resisting the urge to bang her head. Goddamn it. “Azzi,” she said slowly. “Would you like me to get yogurt as well?”

Azzi was already out of the car and slamming the door before Paige finished her sentence. “You’re paying!” she called over her shoulder as she sped walked inside the store.

Rolling her eyes, Paige grabbed her wallet and followed her girlfriend inside. Azzi was pumping vanilla yogurt into her bowl by the time Paige walked through the door. The blonde took a furtive look around the mostly empty store before wrapping her arms around the younger girl’s waist and planting a sloppy kiss onto her cheek.

“Ew, Paige,” Azzi complained, wiping her cheek with the sleeve of her sweater.

“What should I get?” Paige asked, even though she already knew she was going to get strawberry because that was Azzi’s second favorite flavor but she would never get it in her own bowl because she hated the way strawberry and vanilla tasted when mixed together.

“I don’t know, anything,” Azzi said dismissively as she moved to the bar of toppings, but Paige smiled when she saw the quick glance she sent to the strawberry dispenser.

Paige pressed a quick kiss to Azzi’s hairline as they walked out, each with a bowl of yogurt. “Happy?” she murmured, nuzzling her nose against her hair.

Azzi nodded, offering a spoonful of her vanilla yogurt for Paige to try. “That’s good,” Paige said, biting back a grin when she saw the wistful glance Azzi sent towards her own bowl. “You want some of mine?”

“I mean, I guess I can try it,” Azzi said.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re dramatic as hell?” Paige said when Azzi finished taking a bite. Her thumb moved to the corner of her mouth, wiping away the pink smudge.

“Not my fault when you spoil me.” Azzi said cheekily. “You have no one to blame yourself.”

“My fault? You’re the one who walks around looking like this all the time,” Paige grumbled. She pressed against Azzi as they leaned against the car, hands fisting her shirt. “I should just lock you up in my room and never let you out.”

Azzi brushed her nose against Paige’s, her eyes lighting up with a smile. “Refuse to get dessert with me again and you’ll regret it,” she said, faux sweetness dripping off her words.

“You’re sick.”

[chamomiletealeaf]

When I'm mad, I need Simon to shut me up and distract me by eating me out 🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️

MMMM YES

Whether it's him you're mad at or mad at something else, he knows just how to calm you down.

Warnings: MDNI, oral f! receiving, Simon being a snarky bastard, kinda dub-con?? Simon cums in his pants

"I'm so fucking done." You say, frustratedly throwing your phone down on the couch and bringing your hand up to rub your eyebrows.

"Why the fuck are they asking me to cover everyone all the time but the one time I need it they act like I'm asking for them to sacrifice their first-born child." You sit down on the couch and cross your arms.

"It's such a problem every single time I ask for coverage for reasons I actually need, but no, Samantha wants to go to a birthday party so she just HAS to have off. And they accommodate her every need!" You rant to Simon who sits on the other side of the couch.

You needed off of work because you had a doctor's appointment and the next availability wasn't for another three months. Your manager was being a dickhead and wouldn't let you have off since Samantha is already out.

"I'm sorry love that's such bullshit." Simon sympathizes. And at first, he really did feel bad, but that was before he noticed the bounce of your tits every time you flailed your arms around in big gestures frustratedly and how your pretty lips pouted.

"I know! But yet they bend over backwards to make sure Samantha can get to her fucking nail appointment on time. But me?? They never give a fuck, and I'm always stuck picking up her slack!" Simon then scootches closer to you, watching as you continue your rant with a slight smirk on his face.

"It's so- why are you smiling?" You ask, brows furrowed in annoyance.

"I'm not." He shrugs, arms crossed and legs spread with a smirk still evident on his lips.

"You think this is fucking funny? I'm genuinely upset Simon." You say, raising your voice at him.

"I know love, I know." He puts a hand on your upper thigh and squeezes, fingers grazing over the gusset of your pajama shorts.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You ask angrily, gripping his wrist.

"Nothin' baby. Tell me more hm?" He asks, pulling you into his lap so you're straddling him.

You cross your arms over your chest and pout.

"Simon you're not listening."

"Oh baby I know you're upset. But I have a better idea to help clear that pretty little head of yours hm?" Simon says while tilting your head up with his hand on your chin.

He leans forward and starts to suck on your neck, making you bite your lip to prevent a moan from slipping out.

"Tell me all about it with my face buried in that sweet little cunt love." He whispers into your neck, and you grind down on him at the command.

"Mm- Simon not the time." You say sternly, trying to stay mad.

Simon grips your hips and pulls you back down onto his clothed, hard cock before he whispers in your ear:

"These sexy fucking hips grinding into me tell me otherwise lovey."

Then, Simon flips you over so he's on top of you and you're on your back. He then moves his kisses from your neck all the way down to your inner thighs while you protest.

"Simon-nghh, I- what do I do? I can't keep letting them fuck me over like t-this. It's getting ridiculous. I hate this fucking place." You revert the conversation back to where you started, trying to ignore the way Simon bites at your inner thighs.

"I think." Simon starts, face still between your legs.

"That you should open wide for me so I can get my tongue on that sweet pussy." He says, not looking up from between your legs.

"Simon I- oh fuck." You moan out breathlessly and throw your head back as you feel Simon pry your legs apart further and press his tongue over your clothed pussy.

"Thaaat's it baby, just like that." Simon smirks as he laps at your cunt through your panties and pajama shorts, shaking his head to bury himself deeper.

"I think I'll just- mm, fuck me Simon that's so good." You say breathlessly, still trying to keep the focus on the issue at hand but his tongue makes your brain melt.

"Take these off." He grumbles to himself before tearing your panties and shorts off.

He closes his eyes and moans when he shoves his face between your thighs deeper and inhales, licking at your slick pussy.

He's buried between your thighs to the point you can't even see his face and he is blissed out. He starts licking and sucking expertly at your clit and lapping at your arousal so good that you forget why you're even mad anymore.

All you can think about is his warm, wet tongue.

"Ooh Simon-" You moan, throwing your head back while you play with his hair.

"That's it baby. Just relax. No more worrying." He coos.

He squeezes your thighs harder and holds you down the more you squirm. Then you tug on his hair which makes him moan and jerk his hips into the couch.

"Fuck do that again." He commands.

"W-what?" You ask, eyes half lidded as you look down at him.

"Pull on my hair again. Harder this time."

You grip a fistful of his hair and tighten your grasp and he whimpers.

"Fuck love you're gonna make me cum from that alone. But not before you do." He says, and then goes back to eating you out like he hasn't for ages.

"Simon I- mm- gonna cum." You moan.

Your orgasm hits you like a train as you arch your back and pull Simon's hair.

The taste and rhythmic pulsing of your pussy on his tongue, your moans, your thighs, and the sensation of you tugging Simon's hair is just enough to make Simon cum in his pants immediately after you.

He ruts into the couch cushions with his eyes rolled back. His death grip on your thighs are for sure to leave marks black and blue, but you like it that way.

"Fuck Simon did, did you-?" You ask, realizing the movement of his hips coming to a stop.

"Don't worry about me lovey." He cuts you off, trying to avoid talking about he embarrassing situation which you think is actually really hot.

"Now you're quitting that job. You don't need one anyway while I'm here to eat this sweet little pussy out whenever I can. Not to mention all the money I have to spend on no one but you." He smirks while planting a soft kiss to your inner thigh, making you giggle both at his avoidance of your question, and his lewd commentary.

Simon hands you your phone to call your boss for the final time and you take it.

He was right. Fuck that job. All you need is your soldier to treat you right.

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 THAT GIRL (she’s delicious) kim chaewon x reader

↳ warnings: idol au, 6th member reader, pt 2 of rich girl yn drives chaewon even more crazy

THERE IS NOBODY THAT CHAEWON hates more than yn right now, how can one human being have such and ego? how can she be so sure of her self?

ever since yn has come up with the ridiculous idea that chaewon has a crush on her, which she doesn’t. she hasn’t let it go.

all she does is constantly tease the leader and become a royal pain in the ass, more than she usually is, everything she does has been getting on chaewon’s nerves.

like right now.

chaewon clenched her fists at yn’s irritating giggle as she leaned against kazuha interlocking her hands with the japanese girl who quietly listened to the girl rant about completely unimportant things with a small smile on her face.

she doesn’t understand how kazuha could deal with her and for some reason it bothered her how close the two were.

it always felt like there was something more, sakura told her that she was being dramatic and even if there was something going on why does it matter.

“it matters because I don’t want anyone I care about dating that demon.” is what chaewon had said to the older girl who rolled her eyes in response muttering a “yeah right.” clearly not believing chaewon’s reason. “what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked the older girl who just ignored her, “that girl is evil.”

chaewon scrunched her face in disgust watching the duo, she walked over to them with determination, “why are you guys fooling around, we’re supposed to be practicing.”

kazuha flinches at the leaders tone while yn just flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked at her nails, her hands still interlocked with kazuha’s.

chaewon narrowed her eyes at their hands, getting a weird feeling in her chest, which was definitely not jealousy and was concern for kazuha.

“why are you so pissy?” yn asked, chaewon opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by yn, “how does my nose look?” she asks turns her head to side to show her side profile, “I think a nose job is the way to go right now.”

chaewon squinted at the girls antics, while kazuha shakes her head, “your nose is perfect.” she says.

“oh my gosh really?” yn asks leaning her face closer to kazuha’s with a smile on her face, “are you just saying that?”

kazuha was about to respond but was cut short by a very irritated leader, “who cares!? and I am not pissy.”

“you so are.” yn says holding her hand out towards the leader who looks at it in confusion, “pull me up.”

chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls the girl up from the floor a little too harsh which caused yn to lean into her extra close.

“and I know exactly why.” she whispers and chaewon’s eyes widened at their close proximity.

yn then leans away from her and turns to kazuha who got up as well, “well, let’s practice.”

chaewon watched as they walk towards eunchae and groans, what does she mean “she knows why”? how cocky can that girl be?

this going to be a long practice.

practice was long over and chaewon laid her bed staring at the ceiling while the simpsoms played in the background on her laptop.

she has to set the record straight with yn, the more days go on the more yn keeps dragging this crush thing.

she lets out a sigh and gets up from her bed and walks over to yn’s room she rolled her eyes at the gold door knocker on the girls door, she’s so extra.

chaewon reluctantly uses the door knocker and opens the door when she hears a soft “come in.”

when she walks into the room genie by snsd fills her ears as it plays from yn’s sparkly cd player.

it felt like walking into a new world, she’s never been in yn’s room before and it looks like sharpay evans barfed all over it.

she slowly walked into yn’s room and glanced at the floor looking at yn’s cat who slept on her crown shaped bed.

she turned to look at yn stood at her dancing and singing along to the song.

“did you know I actually have an exact replica of the outfit they wear for this song you know the white one with the fur?” yn says not even glancing at chaewon, still looking through her closet.

“daddy’s money?” chaewon asks leaning against yn’s dresser.

“tiffany unnie actually, she gave me the one she actually wore like a year ago, best moment ever, she’s like the older sister I never had now.”

chaewon raises her eyes brows in surprise but doesn’t let her voice show it, “oh yeah, you only have brothers right?”

“yep.” yn says before finally turning around to face chaewon, “now, why are you here? finally confessing your love?”

chaewon rolls her eyes as she watches yn laugh at her own words and sat on her fluffy bed, “that’s definitely it right?”

“no.”

“I’m actually here to talk about that.” chaewon says and yn raises a brow intrigued.

“I don’t have a crush on you.” chaewon says firmly and yn tilts her head to the side, “really?”

“yep.” chaewon says mocking the girls words, “no love here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“what?!”

“just look at how you were acting at practice today.” yn says, chaewon thought the girl was looking her but she was actually looking at herself in the mirror behind her, “you’re obsessed with me, look at how acted over me just being close with zuha who is my best friend.”

“best friend.” chaewon mutters, “yeah right.”

“see, you’re so jealous.”

“I am not!”

“you so are.”

chaewon groans and throws her head back, how can she convince yn she doesn’t have a crush on her, maybe reverse psychology…

chaewon curses herself for what she’s about to do and tries to clam herself down from the feeling of fluster she already feels because she knows it’s gonna skyrocket after she does this.

she marches over to yn who looks at her with a taunting smile on her face, she grabs both sides of the girls face and smashes her lips onto yn’s, a surprised yelp escaping from the girl.

for a millisecond she feels yn kiss back but she immediately pulls away, chaewon can’t help but smile at the shock on the girls face.

she’s been waiting for the day that yn would become speechless and it seems like today is the day.

“would someone who has a crush on you do that? she asks with a smug smile.

yn is silent for a second before a smile slowly makes its way to her face and chaewon’s slowly disappears.

“yes, yes they would.”

[xazse]

z.. your work is so good im gonna shit myself.

can i pretty please request a bunny girl reader who's just like so clingy? Always begging to cockwarm scara or suck on his fingers while he's working?

AHHSJSAHSJ I WANT TO ANNOY HIM TJLL HE POUNDS ME INTO THE TABLE 🤞🤞

SCARAMOUCHE X BUNNYGIRL!READER

Notes: I’m so happy when you guys compliment my work it drives me crazy <333 esp comments like that they’re so funny to read.

Pairings: Scaramouche x Bunnygirl!Reader

Tags: Mean Scaramouche!, Throatfucking(with his fingers), and this is def not proofread

Scaramouche sees two bouncy ears in front of his desk: that’s all he sees, his face scrunches up, this is another feeble attempt of yours to scare him and everytime it ends with him catching you in the middle of it and for some reason you still haven’t learned your lesson. He’ll satiate you this time, he hums out loud and your ears stiff and he can hear light giggles.

You finally round the side of his desk and pop up with your nails out and a half attempt at a scary face: Ridiculous. He jumps in surprise and your face lights up a million before more giggles are spilling from your mouth. he focuses back on his work, fingers scribbling away at the various papers that are near due. You filt your head inbetween the gap in his arms and pull your body to sit on his lap.

Not even 10 minutes have passed and you’re already pushing your ass against his crotch, Scaramouche prides himself in not getting worked up so easily so while you futilely bounce he’s just enjoying the view of his poor bunny trying to get off.

Of course you can’t, not without his help a couple more minutes pass of him ignoring you, you can’t tell if he’s laughing when he lets out a breath of air but even that frustrates you and you promptly stand up and walk out, and he doesn’t like that when he calls out to you: you ignore him and even slam his goddamn door?

He assumes you’re embarrassed because the next couple of days you’re avoiding him like the plague but with him returning your energy it doesn’t take long for you to be on the floor, hands leaning on his legs begging for his attention, your long floppy ears downturned in submission, attempting to show him just how sorry you are.

He can also tell by glancing in your eyes that you’re bothered, lusty eyes filled with love for him and just for him, you’re also shifting from side to side in your tight panties. Speaking of said panties they just outline your pretty cunt so good: pressing against your crevices.

He wants to see something, so he stops his writing and offers you a hand, a finger in fact, you don’t waste any time wrapping your greedy lips around it to appease him, here you are sat on the floor like a mutt: sucking on his finger. He lets you do as you want, pulling off to the tip of his finger just to pull back in to the end of his finger, not once have you broke eye contact.

Rough fingers grab your chin with no sense of softness, forcing you to look up towards the ceiling, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth just to push two towards the back of your throat over and over: little cute gags leave your mouth along with whines.

You can practically feel your clit throbbing beneath these suffocating panties, you can’t even attempt to get rid of the pains not until scaras done fucking your throat with his fingers

Finally does he prop you up on his desk, whilst ripping your panties off in the process, he delivers a slap to your cunt to find your soaked. You flinch but eventually lean into it more. He finally unbuckles his shorts and lines himself up with your hole, finding it so good the way you unconsciously suck him in, a hiss leaves his teeth just from the tightness of you alone. You take to humping along his length most likely trying to take control: and he’s having none of that, you’ve made him wait far too long.

He pushes all the way in, in one stroke, Scaramouche is moreso longer than he is thick, it’s not hard for him to already be pressing on your sweet spot, a wanton moan leaves your lips, fingers digging into his desk. He doesn’t let you adjust either, you don’t deserve that right. His thrusts are mean as his hips meet your ass, the slick sounds of your pussy tossed around the room as he uses you like a damn toy. You don’t feel your mind even register his voice as he degrades you.

“Slut, I’ve barely even started and you’re already reduced to nothing.” And nothing your really reduced to, not when he’s bouncing you on his cock.

“Cu-“ “mmmh..”

“Speak properly” he chides, his voice is wavering as he spreads your legs further, giving him an even better angle to fuck you in. He knows you want your clit played with, knows you want his skilled fingers to dance along and push you over the edge already, but he decides against this to drag your orgasm out as long as he sees fit.

[cressidagrey]

Just read your newest fiction about max and Lea. You know what? Max is totally the kind of person who would just marry his childhood girlfriend and tell no one. He is absolutely the wall that will shield his wife from everything ridiculously flashy and unnecessary.

Max himself has made it clear that the racing is all he cares about and all the other things are just annoying to him, so absolutely he will shield his wife from everything.

I'm just surprised max didn't punch someone in the face because they said something nasty about his lea. ( cue George's interview: he lashes out in anger and violence) I know I would have thrown hands.

Also max with a baby sling? Just walking in total he paddock with sunglasses, a redbull can and a baby hanging from his chest also in redbull gear, sunglasses, noise cancellings and holding a bottle with redbull stickers. 🤣 precious.

And I also love the idea behind this fic as well. I think we all ( at least I have) on numerous occasions been mean to myself as I compared myself with the likes of Kelly and Alex. (I mean Alex has no muscle, no fat, where are here organs? I am worried about her a little.) Also I am painfully aware of how short I am by ruropian standards. ( literally 5 foot / 150cm) which is average Middle Eastern hight but still. Anyways, yeah this idea of this fic is really needed for me at least. Who keeps seeing all these beautiful tall women, who are all models and effluencer and do other things that somehow make a lot of money without actually being a job. It doesn't help that I work an a riding facility and I am always sweaty, sunburned and stained with horse snot and tracking mud behind me always. With dirt under my nails and hay in my hair and just... Overall not very presentable.

So... Yeah. Thanks for that.

This message is everything. It’s honest and soft and sharp all at once, and I want to wrap it in a warm blanket and keep it on a shelf marked Real and Brave.

You’re absolutely right about Max — he’s never been one for show. His entire vibe is “protect the few people I love and ignore the rest,” which is exactly why a story where he quietly marries the love of his life and shields her from the spotlight rings so true. He doesn’t need the world to know. Just her. Just them. That’s where the meaning is.

And yes to Max in the paddock: sunglasses, baby sling, and that no-nonsense walk like he dares someone to say a single word. The baby’s holding a bottle but you know it’s got Verstappen-level intensity. George says something smug and the baby just glares. (Inherited.)

But what really got me is how you spoke about yourself. How so many of us — myself included — compare ourselves to these polished, curated versions of people we’re told are “ideal.” But what social media often makes us forget, is that we are comparing out "real life" with somebody else's highlight reel, which is curated by PR professionals.

[yoyomomiko]

[TWO] — The haunted shed

☆ `` SPECTRAL SCAMMERS ``

☆ — summary: when cartman comes up with yet another 'get rich quick' scheme, he forces his friends, and you, into starting a ghost hunting service. armed with a mix of makeshift equipment, a questionable van and no actual skills, you begin taking jobs to "exorcise" haunted houses.

warnings: strong language, cartman being cartman

(a/n): it's so short and it feels pretty bland, but I'll try to get better and make the chapters longer :(( also, it looks like there's no ghosts in this chapter! at least for now.

wc: 2.7k+

★m.list

★series m.list

<- [PREVIOUS] — [NEXT] ->

The next day, you all met in Cartman's basement, which now served as your official 'Specter Squad Headquarters'. Cartman paced in front of the whiteboard, still scribbled with your chaotic business plan, a smirk glued to his face.

"Ladies and gentlemen..." He began, pausing for a dramatic effect. "We have our first job!"

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances, except for Tweek, who was already trembling.

"Who's the poor sucker?" Stan asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Cartman waved his phone in the air proudly. "My mom's friend's neighbor. Apparently, their shed is haunted by some ghostly menace. Creepy noises, things getting knocked over, the whole paranormal package!"

Kyle frowned sitting on the edge of the couch with his arms resting on his knees. "Let me guess. You told them we'd take care of it for a ridiculous amount of money?"

"$50." Cartman replied with a smug look on his face.

"Fifty bucks for a shed?!" Kyle repeated, eyes wide.

"Hey, ghost insurance isn't cheap." Cartman shot back. "Do you even know how much ectoplasm containment costs? Exactly. I'm giving them a good deal."

You snorted, leaning back on the couch. "More like you're scamming them. What's next, charging a consultation fee?"

"That's not a bad idea..." Cartman muttered, trailing off as he mentally added it to his list.

Stan sighed. "Alright, so what's the plan? Just show up, wave a flashlight around and hope no one notices we're full of crap?"

"Uh, no, Stan." Cartman replied, rolling his eyes. "We need equipment. Real ghost hunting tools! If we show up empty handed, we'll look like amateurs."

"We are amateurs." Craig pointed out, but Cartman ignored him.

...

Within minutes, you all had rummaged through the basement for anything that could count as equipment. Flashlights were passed around, most of them barely functioning, as Cartman dragged a vacuum cleaner from a corner.

"This." He started, holding it up. "Is our spirit vacuum. It sucks up ghosts and traps them inside."

"That's literally just a vacuum." You stared at Cartman, crossing your arms.

"Not anymore." Cartman declared with a smirk, sticking a few glow in the dark star stickers on its side. "Now it's paranormal tech. You're welcome!"

"This is so stupid." Kyle groaned, running a hand down his face.

"You're stupid!" Cartman snapped. "But guess what? The customers don't care. They just want results. And results are exactly what we're gonna give them. Fake or not!"

You grabbed one of the flashlights, testing it's weak glow before glancing at Kyle. "You think this thing's gonna last the night?"

"Not a chance." Kyle shook his head, the corners of his lips tugging upwards, forming a faint smile.

His gaze was fixed on you for a moment longer than necessary as you felt heat rushing to your cheeks.

"Alright, lovebirds!" Cartman interrupted, snapping his fingers in your direction. "Save the awkward flirting for later. We've got ghosts to catch!"

"We weren't-" You quickly spoke up, but Cartman was already moving on.

.

.

.

The group assembled just outside the neighbor's picked fence. Cartman stood at the front with his back straightened and a clipboard in hand.

"Alright, listen up." He began, his voice hushed. "This is our first gig, so we're going to nail it. No screw ups, no whining, and definitely no blowing our cover."

"Cover? You mean the fact that we're not actual ghost hunters?" Stan raised an eyebrow.

Cartman glared at him. "Exactly. So shut up and follow my lead." He turned back to face the house, his face lighting up with smug confidence.

You all exchanged glances but followed him up the driveway anyway. You stayed close to Kyle, who was mumbling under his breath.

"This is going to be a disaster." He muttered, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Probably." You agreed, giving him a small smile. "At least it'll be entertaining, right?"

"You have a weird definition of 'entertaining'." Kyle glanced at you, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

Before you could respond, Cartman knocked loudly on the front door. A moment later, it creaked open to reveal a middle aged woman with dark circles under her eyes.

"Thank goodness you're here!" She exclaimed. "It's been awful! Just awful!"

"Ma'am, you made the right choice calling the Specter Squad. We're South Park's best paranormal investigators, and we're here to solve your ghost problem." Cartman faked a professional tone, which wasn't really convincing.

"Oh, I just don't know what's in that shed. Every night, I hear the strangest noises... Scratching, banging, sometimes even growling... It's terrifying!"

"Sounds like raccoons..." Kyle muttered under his breath.

Cartman elbowed him sharply, giving the woman a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, ma'am. We've dealt with worse. Now let's talk about payment..."

"Payment?" The woman blinked, caught off guard as her brows raised in surprise.

"Of course! Ghost hunting isn't cheap, you know. We've got specialized equipment, years of experience-"

"Years?" Clyde interrupted, but Cartman ignored him.

"And we offer a guarantee of satisfaction. For a case like this, we'll charge a base fee of $50."

"Alright... Fifty... But only if you can get rid of whatever's out there." She hesitated, looking towards each of you in the group.

"Deal!" Cartman exclaimed, sticking out his hand. She shook it hesitantly before leading the group around the side of the house and into the backyard.

.

.

The shed came into view, at the far end of the yard. It was old, its wooden walls splintered, with rusted hinges hanging off the door.

Cartman took a deep breath, clipboard clutched to his chest. "Alright, this is it. Stan, [Y/N], you investigate the area. Kyle, you're with me. Clyde and Kenny, guard the door. Craig, Tweek- uh... Just stand there and look useful."

"This is a bad i-idea! What if it's not a ghost?! What if it's like, a demon or something?!" Tweek panicked, fidgeting nervously.

"It's not a demon." Craig replied flatly, but even he looked a bit uneasy.

You and Stan both glanced at each other as you both began walking around the shed, flashlights in hand.

"So... What do you think we're actually dealing with here?" You asked as you waved your flashlight around.

"Probably racoons." Stan answered with a shrug. "But knowing Cartman, he'll find a way to make it sound like a ghost."

"That sounds about right." You smiled softly.

On the other side, Cartman was crouched, pretending to examine the ground. Kyle stood nearby, arms crossed as he had a tired expression on his face.

"What exactly are you looking for?" Kyle asked as he sighed loudly.

"Ectoplasmic traces." Cartman replied, nodding to himself.

"You don't even know what that means." Kyle ran a hand over his face, sighing for the nth time that day.

"Shut up Jew! I know what I'm doing."

Kyle rolled his eyes but gazed at you when your flashlight beam caught something shining in the grass.

"What's that?" He asked, walking over to join you.

You bent down and picked up the small, glinting object. A broken piece of metal that looked like it had come from the shed's roof.

"Probably nothing." You responded as you held it up for him to see.

He leaned closer, his face inches away from yours.

"Still, good eye."

You felt heat rushing up to your cheeks, but before you could say something, Cartman's voice cut through your sweet moment.

"Alright, idiots! Enough playing around. Let's get inside and find this ghost!"

...

The shed's door creaked loudly as you pushed it open, earning a whimper from Tweek. Your flashlight glow cut through the dark, revealing cobweb, scattered tools and a floor with littered leaves. You quickly turned off your flashlight as you looked away from the sight.

"Alright assholes, try not to screw up." Cartman declared, clipboard in hand as he gestured towards the shed.

"We have to act professional!" He whisper yelled, eyes narrowing.

"How professional can we look with a broken vacuum and dollar store flashlights?" Craig muttered, but his words were drowned by Cartman's loud, fake cough.

"Why do I feel like this is going to be a disaster?" Clyde mumbled, rubbing his arms for warmth.

"It's always a disaster when Cartman's in charge." Kyle replied in a dry tone.

You smirked, catching the way Kyle's gaze studied the shed. He glanced at you, his eyes softening, though only for a moment, the tension in the air didn't feel so heavy.

"Are we doing this or not?" Craig asked impatiently as he crossed his arms.

"Yes, Craig, we're doing this. But first, we need to assert dominance!" Cartman sighed out in an exaggerated way.

"Dominance?" You repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"I like how that sounds." Kenny snickered, and so did Clyde as he nudged Kenny's shoulder.

"You don't just walk into a ghost's lair! You have to show it who's boss!" Cartman pointed at the shed dramatically.

"We're ghost hunters, not wrestlers." Stan stated as Craig chuckled.

Ignoring him, Cartman turned to the neighbor, who was watching nervously from her back porch.

"Ma'am, we're going in. We've got this under control." Cartman spoke up confidently.

"Please... Just be careful." The woman clutched her cardigan tightly as she nodded. "It's been making horrible noise lately."

"No worries, we'll take care of it. By the way, there's a $10 fee for ghost insurance in case it tries to follow us home."

"Ghost insurance?" Kyle repeated, squinting his eyes at Cartman.

"Do you want to get haunted, Kyle? Didn't think so." Cartman shot him a glare.

...

The group gathered their supplies, which were only some barely working flashlights, an old vacuum cleaner Cartman had given the title of 'Spirit Sucker 3000', and a few random tools from Clyde's garage.

"I still don't understand how this is supposed to work..." Tweek muttered, holding his flashlight like it might explode.

"It works because I said it works." Cartman replied, adjusting the vacuum strap on his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes and turned on your flashlight again. The shed wasn't particularly big, but the barely standing wood made it seem more sinister. Plus the cobwebs, creepy old tools and leaves left on the floor.

"Let's just get this over with." Craig sighed as he stepped up to the door.

"Hold up! The leader goes first!" Cartman held up a hand to stop him.

"You're not the leader." Kyle shot back.

"Yes, I am!" Cartman snapped. "I made the website, I set up the payment system, and I'm the only one here who isn't a total pussy!"

"Fine. Go ahead, fearless leader." Craig mocked.

Cartman smirked as he confidently pushed the door further and stepped inside.

...

The air inside was heavy and barely breatheable, carrying the scent of mold and rotting wood. Your flashlight flickered as you swept it across the space, revealing shelves packed with rusted tools and boxes stacked carelessly.

"Wow..." Kenny's eyes scanned the area. "This place is charming."

"Spread out, assholes! We're looking for signs of paranormal activity!" Cartman waved his clipboard dramatically.

"What exactly counts as a sign?" Stan asked as he stares at a random jar with unidentifiable substances.

"Anything spooky." Cartman answered simply. "Weird sounds, cold spots, glowing slime... You know, ghost stuff."

"You're making this up as you go, aren't you?" Kyle groaned.

"Shut up, Kyle! Do your job!" Cartman yelled.

You held back a laugh as Kyle mumbled something under his breath. When he caught your eye, his gaze softened, giving you a small smile that made your heart pound in your chest.

...

You all explored different corners of the shed, examining and looking out for 'spooky stuff'.

You crouched near a stack of boxes, brushing away cobwebs to get a closer look. The wood beneath your fingers felt slightly wet and splintered. You noticed a faint light coming from above.

"Hey..." You called out, shining your flashlight towards the roof, standing up. "There's a hole up here."

Kyle joined you, squinting up at the opening. "That could explain the noises. If wind's getting in, it might make the walls creak."

"Or it could be the ghost's escape route." Cartman interrupted, scribbling something on his clipboard.

"Pretty sure ghosts don't need escape routes." You sighed.

Cartman ignored you, turning his attention to a nearby workbench.

Kyle stood by your side, tilting his head thoughtfully as he examined the roof. "Good catch." He praised, his voice quieter now.

"Thanks." You replied, smiling to yourself like an idiot as you felt your cheeks warm up.

All of the sudden, a loud crash echoed from the back of the shed.

"What was that?!" Tweek yelped, clutching his flashlight like a weapon.

"Relax." Kenny spoke up, moving towards the source of the noise. "It's probably just-"

His words cut off as he stumbled upon a crate.

Kenny crouched down, shining his flashlight on the wooden box. It was old and had a loose lid that looked like it hadn't been touched in years.

"What do you think's in it?" Clyde asked, creeping over Stan's shoulder.

"Only one way to find out." Kenny replied, slowly taking the lid off.

Inside was a trio of small and furry bodies. Wide eyes reflected the flashlight glow as tiny claws scratched against the wood.

"Aww, raccoons!" Kenny cooed as he pouted. "They're adorable!"

"They're so cute!" You purred as you admired them. They were so small and it could fit perfectly in your palm!

"I wanna pet them." Kenny said as he reached out to pick one up.

The once cuddly creatures now hissed loudly, lounging at him with surprising speed.

Kenny screeched, stumbling backwards as the raccoon latched onto his sleeve.

The other two raccoons bolted from the crate, darting across the shed.

"Jesus Christ!" Stan yelled, jumping out of the way.

"Get it off! Get it off me!" Kenny screamed, waving his arm around crazily as the raccoon kept clinging onto his sleeve.

"Stop moving!" You shouted, grabbing a broom and trying to swat the raccoon away. It hissed at you, revealing its sharp teeth.

Another raccoon climbed onto a shelf, knocking over jars and sending their contents crashing to the floor. Tweek jumped onto a crate to avoid the mess, grabbing at his hair.

"Where are they coming from?!" Cartman swung his flashlight around wildly.

"They're everywhere!" Craig noted, dodging another raccoon as it ran past him.

"We need to get them out of here!" Kyle tried to block one of the raccoons' paths.

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Stan yelled, ducking as another jar flew above his head.

"Loud noises!" Cartman quickly grabbed a rusty pot from a workbench. "Scare them out!"

You didn't have a better idea, so you grabbed a pan and started banging it against the broom handle. The others quickly followed, grabbing tools and smashing them into anything, clangs echoing through the shed.

Tweek kept flinching at the loud noise, but he also followed and helped the rest.

The raccoons screeched in protest, before finally rushing out the hole in the roof.

"Victory!" Cartman shouted proudly, slamming his pot.

You lowered your makeshift drumstick, panting from the effort. Kyle was standing beside you, his face flushed.

"Nice work." He nudged your shoulder lightly.

"Not bad yourself..." You replied, smiling despite what just happened.

.

.

You all stumbled out of the shed, disheveled but successful. The neighbor was waiting in the yard, fidgeting nervously.

"Well? Did you get rid of it?" She asked, nibbling on her bottom lip.

Cartman puffed out his chest, clipboard in hand. "It was a tough case." He started dramatically. "But yes, the ghost has been banished. You're welcome."

"Oh, thank you!" She exclaimed, reaching out for her wallet.

"Now, about the payment..." Cartman stopped her, holding up a finger. "It was an agressive spirit, so we're charging an extra $10 for chaos pay."

The woman hesitated but handed over the cash either way.

As you all walked away, Cartman grinned joyfully, stuffing the money into his pocket.

"First job: complete. We're officially ghost hunters, bitches!"

★yoyomiko ★miko

[candyhartes]

sweet like oranges

s: you & luffy leisurely enjoy each others company with oranges.

cw: suggestive

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

life on the sea has always brought you a sense of tranquility with such idyllic views when you aren’t being chased down my marines or having to navigate through harsh storms and rough waves. it also restores peace between the crew on the ship when everyone’s off doing their own thing.

unfortunately for your usual hyperactive boyfriend, he managed to piss his cook off enough to punish him by pushing him out of the kitchen with three oranges—unpeeled. you couldn’t help but laugh as his predicament as you leaned against the main mast overlooking the ocean with a book in your hand.

“i told you, help me!” luffy cries out annoyed. he throws his back dramatically, the orange he was working on laying in his lap with a huge bite mark. he’s already attempted to bite into it like an apple but the bitter skin caused him to quickly spit it out. he falls back landing perfectly in your lap, “please?”

you laugh to yourself, hiding your smile behind your book, “sanji gave you those to keep you busy until lunch time. it would be cheating if i helped you.”

“he doesn’t have to know,” luffy’s eyes glaze over in a way that would cause you to cave in, you try to ignore it but with the way your heart skips a beat you know it’s useless to fight against it.

sighing you grab the orange from his lap, he’s quick to sit up with a dazzling smile but it quickly fades when you only peel around his bite mark. he raises an eyebrow at you looking completely unimpressed as you hand the orange back, “there. i started it for you, it should be easier now.”

“really?” luffy huffs, rolling his eyes as you nod your head proudly. he shifts so he’s sitting across from you and begins his very difficult and annoying task of peeling his own food. “fine but don’t think i’m gonna share since you want to be mean!”

rather than giving him a reaction you simply hum and return your attention back to your book. your attention only lasts a couple of minutes as you notice it’s been a while since luffys began his theatrics, however as you glance up you take in his focused expression. your eyes dart from his mouth; his tongue slightly sticking out with his eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. the sun does nothing to hide the tiny intricate freckles that decorate his cheeks and nose, his features could rival even the greatest of gods.

the red vest he is so insistent on wearing drapes over his toned arms, flexing ever so slightly whenever he forcibly digs into the orange without a single care of the droplets of juice running down his wrist. you gulp, no longer interested in your book, shivers running down your spine despite laying directly under the scorching sun. you raise your book higher up in order to protect yourself from future embarrassment and hope luffy doesn’t feel your pointed gaze.

‘get a grip’

your voice of reason does nothing to the desire swimming in your lower stomach once your eyes reach luffy’s hands. the thought of finding something ridiculous like hands attractive cause a rush of blood to flood your cheeks, suddenly the temperature rises from both embarrassing and sinful thoughts. you absolutely cannot blame yourself when your boyfriend’s hands were carved by god himself, with the perfect amount of veins running through the back of his hands, his cuticles surprisingly well kept (some overgrown but not undesirable), and he tends to keep his nails short since he has a habit of biting them.

his fingers unskillful rip the orange to shreds as he finally manages to peel the skin away. he smiles proudly at himself and glances up at you, meeting your eyes. your heart drops for a second a feeling of being caught for doing something you shouldn’t have been doing crosses your consciousness yet luffy’s eyes light up at your intense gaze.

your boyfriend might be an idiot at times but he wasn’t stupid. he couldn’t help but wet his lips watching as your gaze instantly drop down to his mouth, rehydrating them to their natural pink color. you gulp slowly putting your book down that was still shielding your face. luffy grins and digs his fingers into the large hole in the orange he made from his bite and splits it in half.

“i guess i can spare some.” luffy hums ripping his orange into slices. you open your mouth to finally speak up, scold him for making such a mess. however, just as you did, luffy’s quick enough to stick a slice of orange in your mouth, his fingers resting on your lips, his intense gaze wanting you to swallow the slice whole, “so?”

you nod unable to speak as you chew the slice droplets of juice leaking from the corner of your mouth. luffy frowns reaching over with his thumb go wipe the juice and you think he’s gonna be childish and clean his fingers on your shirt. instead he pops his thumb into his mouth and hums. that sickly sweet smile ruining the little sanity you had left, “sweet.”

swallowing the orange caused a painful lump in your throat that felt almost impossible to get through. luffy finishes the rest of the orange watching your reaction with a mischievous glint in his eyes. you shift under his gaze unable to speak but the sound of usopp’s laughter in the background snaps you back into reality and you’re ready to scold luffy for his teasing but a strong voice cuts you completely off.

“hey guys, lunch is ready!” sanji’s voice causes both you and luffy to turn over towards the source.

“finally!” luffy laughs and picks up the remaining oranges to hand back to sanji. he leaves you feeling flustered and caught off guard at his actions, before he gets too far he turns to face you, “cmon let’s go! maybe sanji can cut the rest of these oranges for us after!”

he sends you a wink before running off again yelling at the rest of the crew to not eat all the meat. you sigh restlessly and fall back letting the book drape over your face ignoring sanji’s love cries for you the join them. luffy’s incredibly unpredictable.

note. this has been sitting in my drafts for too long & i haven’t posted anything in so long so might as well.

[honeylations]

- All of Your Attention -

REQUESTED - @jejenesblog

NICHA YONTARARAK (MINNIE) x FEM!READER

Prompt: Minnie invites you to her group’s comeback celebration dinner, but she doesn’t appreciate the way you ‘flirt’ with Miyeon. She decided to do something about it >:)

Warnings/Notes: dom Minnie, jealousy, smut, fingering, mommy kink

———

“Thank you for inviting me guys, I really appreciate it” You shyly say, fidgeting with the promise ring on your index finger that Minnie got you last year’s anniversary.

Miyeon smiled and gently grabbed your hand across the table, rubbing her thumb across it. “No need to thank us, Y/n”

It didn’t bother Minnie at how close your friendship was with the other girls, she knew better than to be jealous but she couldn’t control the yucky feeling in her stomach when the eldest member decided to lock your fingers together while conversing about a nail salon you recently went to.

The Thai member chewed on her lower lip before grabbing the menu and inching it towards you. “My love, would you like me to order your favourite champagne?”

Unfortunately you were too lost in your conversation and the yucky feeling in Minnie started to worsen when you reached over the table to tuck a strand of Miyeon’s hair behind her ear.

“Hey babe I asked you a question…” Minnie pouted, finally getting your attention.

“Oh sorry! What did you ask again?”

“If you wanted me to order your favourite champagne?”

“Oooh” You hummed before looking at Miyeon with wide eyes. “Did you want some Miyeon? I promise you it tastes amazing”

Minnie frowned.

“Yeah of course! With these busy schedules, I haven’t drank in a while”

You laughed and continued playing with her hands, unaware of the sharp glare your girlfriend was giving between the two of you.

“I just realised how different you look from the first time we met. Your new hair colour suits you a lot” Miyeon complimented, making you blush.

“Really? Thank you! I was worried it wouldn’t look that good but you suit every hair colour I swear! My favourite was your blonde era”

“I do miss the blonde sometimes but I was gonna go bald if I kept it” Miyeon chuckled as you reached over to run your fingers through her hair again.

“The black hair looks great too-“

“I’m gonna go fix my makeup. Come help me too, Y/n” Minnie abruptly stood up, her tone cold as ice.

“Are you okay, Minnie?” Yuqi asked but got ignored

“Im talking to Miyeon though..” You replied, wondering why Minnie had called you by your first name instead of the usual ‘Princess’ and ‘my love’.

“I don’t think I gave you an option” Minnie spoke before walking off to the restroom.

You sighed and stood up, sending a short apology to the other members before quickly following your angry girlfriend.

Luckily, it was one of those restrooms that only had one large cubicle so the moment you walked in, you found your girlfriend adjusting her lashes in the mirror.

“Lock the door.” She ordered without looking at you and you immediately obeyed.

“What’s wrong?”

The Thai girl sighed and turned around, leaning her back against the sink while crossing her arms, gaze colder than ever. “I don’t like how touchy you were with Miyeon”

“What, babe you can’t be serious”

“Oh I’m dead serious. I invited you to this dinner to be by my side, aka your girlfriend if I must remind you”

“This is ridiculous. Fix yourself right now, I’m going back—What, hey!” Your words were cut off the moment you reached for the door, finding yourself pinned against it, your back pressed close to your girlfriend’s front.

“Don’t tell me to fix myself when you were the one touching my member, fucking brat. You’re mine, do you hear me?” She hissed in your ear, right hand reaching underneath your dress, two fingers rubbing at your clothed pussy.

“M-Minnie!”

Her left hand wrapped around your throat, forcing your head to tilt back and meet her lips. Her kiss was possessive, aggressive, yet so hot. Minnie pulled away, smirking at the way you were grinding into her fingers and a whine escaping your lips.

“God, look at you. Just a minute ago you were acting like some bratty princess, now here you are wanting to have my fingers up your tight cunt, isn’t that right my love?”

You could only roll your eyes back and cry when your girlfriend pushed your panties aside and pushed two fingers inside knuckle deep, adoring the way your cheeks flushed pink and the way your mouth hung open.

“I think it’ll be better for you to see how much of a slut you are, no? Here, look baby. Look at the mirror” You felt her smile against your ear when she turned you both around so now that your lewd moment was shown in the bathroom mirror.

You opened your eyes and felt yourself grow embarrassingly wetter by the scene. Minnie’s long fingers deep inside you, moving at such a pleasuring speed while she continued to choke you, her lips moving down to litter your neck with purple marks that you knew were going to have difficulty in covering.

“B-Baby, oh my god!” You moaned so deliciously.

“Aw that’s not my name. Come on, my love. Say it. Say the name you know you love calling me”

“F-Fuck! I…I can’t Min…n-not here!”

“It’s either you fucking say it and get to cum or I’ll pull out right now and let you finish off by yourself. Your choice…but make the right one” She growled.

“N-No I wanna cum! I wanna cum so bad, Min, please don’t stop” You panted, holding her wrist and trying to force her to go faster and deeper but she didn’t budge.

“Then be a good girl. Don’t you want to cum all over my fingers, darling? Wont you let me have a taste, hm?”

You nodded rapidly, leaning your head back into her chest.

“Then. Say. It.” Minnie said every word through gritted teeth, pulling her fingers away before shoving it back in one harsh motion.

“M-Mommy! Just like that please Mommy!” You finally let out.

“There it is, my good girl” Minnie chuckled in your ear, finally giving you what you wanted and rapidly pounding her fingers inside.

“Y-Yes yes yes! Fuck yes, mommy!”

“Shhh, not too loud now, darling. Don’t wanna get kicked out”

“I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum!” You cried, tilting your head up, giving the hint to your girlfriend that you wanted to taste her sweet lips.

“Aw you wanna kiss me baby?” She chuckled and you could only nod, begging with your hooded eyes. “How could I say no to that?”

She leant her face down and connected your lips in a sloppy kiss, her fingers never stopping. Everything was too much for you.

The way your tongues danced, the fast hard movements of her fingers, the noises, and the general fact you two were fucking in a public restroom, your mind was going insane.

“Cumming!” You whispered after Minnie pulled her mouth away, your legs shook as your orgasm hit you hard.

Minnie hummed with content when she felt your white liquid drown her fingers, dripping down to her palm and even onto the bathroom floor. Your weak body laid against her’s, your chest heaving up and down with tiredness, but your girlfriend’s deep voice had reached your ears despite your almost-passing-out state.

“As much as I’d love to go home and continue, we have a dinner celebration to finish”

“Can’t believe you fingered me in a public restroom just because you were jealous” you huffed out, fixing your panties and dress, trying to look decent.

“And? I’ll do it again if I see you getting all handsy with Miyeon”

You playfully rolled your eyes and pecked the taller’s lips. “I’m yours, okay? Remember that. Now please clean your hand for the love of God”

Miyeon looked at her hand and totally forgot it was covered in your mess. She didn’t hesitate to bring it up to her mouth and start licking it clean, making your face go insanely red.

“Wash your hands too” You scolded.

Minnie laughed and did as told before you both headed back to the table hand in hand. The members looked at you with wide smirks.

“What took so long huhhhhh?” Shuhua asked with an annoying smile, resting her chin in her hand.

“Finally finished touching up your make up, Minnie?” Soyeon wiggled her eyebrows.

“Or finally finished touching up Y/n?” Yuqi added, sending the entire table into laughter and shoulder slaps.

“Ugh shut up all of you. Can we order now? I’m starving” Minnie groaned, sitting down with you at the table.

“How could you be starving? Did Y/n not give you enough of herself?” Miyeon added, snickering afterwards.

“Miyeon, there is a steak knife right here and I’ll show you where it goes if you don’t shut up” Minnie threatened and you placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Do it then, bitch—“

“Hey stop it you two. Let’s enjoy the rest of tonight, okay?” You scolded, pointing your finger at the two G-Idle members.

They both nodded obediently.

You sat back with a sigh and flinched when you felt Minnie’s fingers hiking up your dress again. You pinched her side with an angry look. “Stop or else we’re not doing a round two”

“Awe what! But babe!”

‘Baby in the streets, Mommy in the sheets’ you thought in your head.

A/N: Hellowwww this is my first time doing a request! I hope it was good enough T^T love yous!

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hello my love! One more for you, though knowing me, I’m sure it’ll end up being more than just this one!

I’d love to see something where Steve has an oral fixation that isn’t necessarily sex-related. (It definitely could be, I’m not at all opposed, I’d just like to see some soft boys.) ❤️ and as always, if you’re busy or not feeling it, feel free to ignore me! ❤️

I was busy getting sunburnt (no I will not be taking questions at this time) but without further ado, soft soft boys for my star ✨

Steve was always chewing on his nails, or the skin of his fingers, or popping gum into his mouth.

It used to make Eddie ridiculously horny.

Like, couldn't focus on anything except the way Steve's mouth moved around things.

The (thankfully) short-lived lollipop phase nearly killed him.

But he started to notice what actually triggered the need for something to be in his mouth.

Steve Harrington had anxiety.

Not just the casual social anxiety that he first assumed, but the holding on by a thread, everything is overwhelming kind.

He decided to test his theory one evening when they were having a movie night that Robin had to back out of at the last minute. If he thought too hard about it, he would assume she was trying to set them up.

Steve had spent the first 15 minutes biting at the skin of his thumb, most likely causing a massive hangnail.

Eddie grabbed his hand and held it in his own, doing his best to avoid looking at where they were now connected.

Steve tensed for a moment, only relaxing when he realized Eddie's attention wasn't actually on him.

And then Eddie felt Steve's head drop onto his shoulder as he lifted their joined hands up to his lips.

He thought he was going to kiss his fingers, which would have been enough on its own to send him spiraling.

What he did instead was...a lot.

He started rubbing Eddie's rings along his lips slowly, letting his breath hit Eddie's fingers.

"What are you doing, Stevie?"

He was amazed he could even speak.

"Sorry. Just, there's a lot of textures on them. It's nice. Something to calm my brain."

"Is your brain busy a lot?"

"Yeah."

"You can keep doing that if it helps."

Steve memorized the feeling of every ring on Eddie's hands, first with his lips, then with his fingers.

It was the first of many parts of Eddie he would memorize with his mouth.

[kitbunnyroo]

ok but hear me out on abominations right...

this started off as a short text post but then my brain decided it wants to make a chimera so here we go-

the creatures that don't belong under any specific name, so they're simply labelled as abominations. the one sole outcasts of the monster world so to speak, even when it comes to each other, so when one of them stumbles across you after a particularly nasty fight and you help it instead of ignoring or scorning it, it's heavily confused. you take it to your little hiding spot, home away from home almost, tend to it's plethora of wounds and infected cuts, even offer it water and a bit of something to eat, surely you must be the saviour it's heard other humans mention and worship? why else would you treat it so kindly?

abomination that when you return to the hiding spot it hasn't moved not one inch. you worry that it had died till you stepped closer and the mass of dark fur(?) flinched as if ready to flee, then settled once it recognized you. you took that as a good sign, though it was short lived as a stench hit your nose. this thing needed a shower asap.

abomination that thinks you're finally going to kill it once it sees the bathtub filled with water. it looks between you and the tub, but doesn't fight when you carefully lift and place it in the warm water, it would be happy to drown having known kindness for once in it's life. so when it's met by gentle scrubbing and a sweet smelling scent, you can see the confusion on it's face now revealed after parting the fur away from what you correctly assumed were it's eyes. it's face had the maw of a fox almost, yet it's eyes seemed to have the pupil of a toad, and if you stared at them enough you'd swear they just barely formed hearts as you tried brushing your fingers through it's matted fur.

abomination that once properly cleaned, you see that it's fur was a shade of indigo, and that once trimmed in all the right places standing upright was possible, it simply hadn't learnt to do so with the constant attacks. with enough directing, it did, and it was almost too tall for your little hiding spot, the fur from before now making it seem like the closest thing to bigfoot you'd ever seen. some money to move out of home would be nice....

deciding to be a good person, and mostly out of curiousity, you settled with shaving it, turns out it wasn't fur at all just a ridiculously overgrown head of hair. with most of it gone, you could see why it looked like fur, the rest of it's body had what could only be described as underfur, the overgrown hair must have attached and knotted to it over the years...abomination that begins to grow anxious when you leave after one time in particular when you returned to it without your usual demeanour, what could possibly have dampened it's saviour's mood?

abomination that slowly but surely mimics you. maybe if it acted less of a wild animal, you'd let it accompany you even beyond the little hiding space. it grows accustomed to walking on two legs, though it's hind legs resembling a tiger's didn't help much, it was even attempting to help you around with little things as a means to practice using it's hands, odd shapes that clawed at the ends despite him not appearing to have any nails. although it was at a loss for what to about it's sickly pale skin, it did do it's best to maintain it's hair the same way you fixed it, imagine the sight when you came home to a jagged haircut and it beaming up at you as if it did the best job in the world. hell, the thing was even trying to learn how to speak, what used to be an odd mixture of warbles and chuffs slowly starting to sound like words, though you could never make them out, but you could tell it was trying to speak. so you began to leave one of your devices with it, always playing something with tons of dialogue so it can learn more words when you were away.

abomination that learns about names, and insists that you give it one. how? it scratches the word into it's own arm, not wanting to damage your possessions but also not having anything to write on, or knowing how to hold a writing utensil, now you have a monster to name and a mess of sulphuric blood to clean from your floors...though it made a mess, as you reprimanded it for the careless you action you realized it seemed to sulk. it grew to understand what you were saying despite not having a full grasp on speaking itself.

abomination that only continues to learn and desperately try to convince you to let it out with you...maybe it could benefit from being in society?

drops this and hides behind the corner cause it's been days...

[toadsinatrenchcoat]

Short Story- Normal

This story is different from what we usually write, but it's good to expand genres. This was written by Joanna.

Disclaimer: This may not be suitable for all audiences, and may include some frightening elements.

Over-wide smiles, unblinking eyes that focus too clearly, blinding teeth that flash sharply in the sun. Glinting nails, bones jutting out where none should be, rasping breaths and stuttering gaits.

Monsters.

Things that aren't quite right, things that used to be, things that never were. Creatures and shadows, bumps in the night. Eyes that follow with a presence new and unsettling, everywhere but nowhere, around the corners and across the street. Fog that rolls in with a mind of its own.

Distractions.

They say true fear lies in the unknown, the vague sense of unease when lying alone, vanishing when the lights are turned on and the covers drawn up. Passed off as shadows and paranoia. Unfinished, wrapped in mystery, and then gone, forgotten.

Lies.

Dread begins this way, terror begins when the thing does not leave. The concoction you convince yourself is behind the curtain stares you down when you pull back the drape. Unmoving, but undeniably real. "But it's not real" you fool yourself. A trick of the light, nothing more. You close the curtains and walk back to the warmth of your bed, but it has gone cold. A chill running up your spine, dancing on your fingertips.

Overactive imaginations, ridiculous fantasies. Everything is normal, safe, normal, fine. Repetition will help. Safety in numbers, so the next night is not spent alone. The house is filled, the neighbourhood loud. Safe, normal, fine. "It's too hot, let's open a window", but you know you can't because It will still be there. The window is opened. And It is there.

No one acknowledges It. It is normal. The lights are dim, so you turn more on, "I can't see my drink" you laugh in explanation. No one is listening. It is so cold, but everyone is sweating. The air does not flow, though the window is wide. You try to forget It, never in the corner of your eye, always in full view. It will not be ignored.

"Let's go outside," your voice feels thready. People move anyway. There is a fire, its light expanding far into the forest beyond, lighting the trees. It shouldn't go that far. There are no shadows, and nothing to hide what lurks in amongst the trees. The fire is cold. "It's so windy tonight, the trees are whistling." A voice intones. It is not windy. The voices are many, but the quiet pushes against your ears. The drinks are tasteless, you didn't serve any drinks.

The sun comes up, but no one leaves. The forest things are still watching, and they have come closer. No one says anything. This is normal. You have to go to the bathroom. The house is full, you can barely move past the crowds of people. Where did they all come from anyway. It seems like the they have always been there. You find the bathroom eventually, it keeps moving. Inside is crowded too. And It is inside. You ignore it. When you leave you are outside again. You can't see the other houses, though the sun shines bright. You're not sure if they were ever there. This is normal.

It is night again, and the fire glows more brightly than before. The forest things are closer, they have made a circle around the group. Someone walks past them and disappears into the shadows beyond the trees. There are no shadows. Everything is bright, your eyes hurt.

It is morning again, the sun moves too fast. You go to bed, it is safe there. It is crowded there too, though the bed is empty, already made without a wrinkle to mar the perfect sheets. The covers are too hot, but you don't take them off. The thing at the foot of the bed can't reach you then. It would be better if there were shadows, something to mask the eyes. There are never shadows.

The window is gone, but the sun is blinding even still. Your friends are still in the room with you. You don't know these people. This is fine, normal, safe. Everything is normal, the voice in your head reassures. Everything is safe. That voice in your head isn't yours.

This is normal

Disclaimer: We reserve the rights to any and all stories written here and do not permit the republishing of the works created without permission or credit in any forum.

[noxemma]

Chapter 3 for my Hot Summer Art challenge fic

Mind the tags, this chapter is a short but heavy (I promise it gets better AKA fluffier)

Tags, Rating, Word Count, AO3 link, etc. at the bottom

Beside Your Side

Fic Summary: Dean convinces Sam to look into a potential case where people are going missing from a New Jersey beach town. Of course, they have to bring Cas and Eileen along, just in case it's not a monster. Dean is excited to get the case over quickly and enjoy a well-earned vacation with the people he loves the most. Nothing ever seems to go the way Dean plans it though, and this case is no exception.

Chapter 3: The Night is Cold

Dean

“Huh, I wouldn’t have pegged him as a friend of yours,” Isa chuckles when he finally refocuses on her. The words are innocent enough, but there’s something derogatory in her tone that instantly raises his hackles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you’re all charm and mysterious and he’s … kind of awkward and dorky. I mean what is that ridiculous shirt? It looks like a flower shop threw up on him. At least he knows how to be a half-decent wingman,” she states bluntly, "Now, where were we?"

She smirks at him and makes a show of wrapping her lips around her straw and taking a large sip of her drink. Dean’s sure that most men would find it sexy, especially the way she gazes up at him through her lashes, but it’s honestly the fastest he’s ever been turned off by a woman.

“Right. Listen, you’re gorgeous, but-”

“Look, I have nothing against your friend, he’s just not my type and I’m not really gunning for a threesome tonight. You however are exactly my type, and I usually get what I want,” Isa changes in a flash, instantly getting defensive.

“Well, he's my type, and, even if we aren’t dating yet, I’m not going to sleep with someone else,” Dean blurts, not really sure how the conversation has devolved so quickly.

“Yet? Please. You may be into him, but he certainly seemed to have no problem with us flirting. So, he’s unaware or uninterested but either way, you don’t owe each other anything. Hell, he practically gave you his blessing. I’m not looking for a boyfriend, just a good time, so I don’t see what your issue is. Let’s get out of here and have some fun. Who knows maybe it will make him jealous and I’ll be doing you a favor.”

Dean’s stomach drops because she’s right; technically he’s single and free to do whatever he wants. But what he wants is Cas, and even the suggestion of sleeping with someone else has his stomach clenching painfully and guiltily.

“Okay, well, if you don’t have any other information about Bradley.” Dean stands, needing to find Cas, but Isa is faster than he expects, jumping up and walking next to him as he makes his way toward the door.

“Look, Bradley was here. He’s a bit of a flirt and some chick, who honestly should have been grateful for the attention, got all butt hurt. She cried to Riley, and she kicked him out,” Isa spouts, grabbing Dean’s arm and stopping him just inside the doorway.

“Dean, come on. You’re telling me I do nothing for you?” she pouts. Dean is too busy looking for Cas to see the angry glint that fills her eyes when he ignores her.  

He lets out a relieved breath when he finally spots Cas, standing at the bar with Sam and Eileen. Their eyes meet and the angel gives blinds him with the sweetest smile. And it no longer matters that they aren't dating, it doesn’t matter if Cas never wants to be more than friends: the promise of simply being near him, of laughing and shopping and trying each other's drinks, of taking whatever love Cas will give him, far outweighs any offer of casual sex.

Suddenly, Isa is in front of him, her sharp nails digging into his scalp as she yanks him down into a brutal kiss, slotting her leg between his own. He’s so shocked that he can’t do anything for a moment, frozen between wanting to flee or fling her off in a way that would definitely get him kicked out, if not arrested.

Like what you read? You can find the rest of the chapter here on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 3/? (hopefully 9 😂)

Chapter Word Count: ~2,750

Tags: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Case Fic, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Beach Case, Cannon when convenient, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (Dean and background characters), Non-Consensual Touching (Not between Dean and Cas), Hurt/Comfort, I promise it's not as dark as it sounds, Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, clueless Sam Winchester, Chick-Flick Moments, Cannon typical misunderstandings, Angst?, One day I'll learn how to tag, WIP, JackieDeeArt's Hot Summer Art 2024 (Supernatural), Hot Summer Art, Greek Mythology if you Squint, No Beta, Everyone is bad with words, Except Eileen who is the only emotionally stable person for miles, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Angel Grace Dysfunction, Poor Coping Mechanisms

[ollieofthebeholder]

And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 37: Who has redeemed and not abhorred

“—one more time, I’m going to rip his intestines out and strangle him with them.”

It probably wasn’t a serious threat. As small and scrawny as Jon was, Sasha was even smaller, and she kept her nails extremely short and smooth, so she likely wouldn’t have what it took to scratch him enough to bleed, let alone do any serious damage. Still, the combination of words with the tone she said them in touched off the hair trigger on Tim’s increasingly irritating urge to protect Jon, and he bristled instinctively as he jerked his head around to find her.

As usual, she was not dressed for the weather; she must be part polar bear, or else she was just that stubborn. Her only concession to the near freezing temperatures was to switch out her sandals for penny loafers and throw a shawl over her shoulders. The bright red spots on her cheeks were probably from anger and not cold or fever, though. Martin, who was walking with her, was much more sensibly dressed in the cornflower blue jumper he’d taken to wearing more often in the last month and a pair of scuffed but sturdy Doc Martens he’d managed to score at a swap meet because his feet were smaller than most men’s and there hadn’t been much competition for them. His expression was somewhere between frustration and anxiety, which was more or less his default expression when thinking about Jon these days. The way his hands were jammed in his pockets told Tim that, whatever Sasha was saying, he didn’t want to agree with it, but he did.

“Look,” he said, obviously trying to sound reasonable, “he’s—i-it’s been hard on him, you know that, he—”

“It’s been months, Martin. Whatever…whatever trauma it is he’s trying to work through”—oh, the sarcasm she put on those two words—“it doesn’t give him the right to do what he’s been doing. You know I’m right. Didn’t Elias tell you the same thing?”

“What?” Tim’s tongue freed itself at that and flung out the word much more sharply than he meant to.

Sasha and Martin both looked up at him at that, Martin flinching backwards and Sasha with an expression that indicated she was thankful to have an ally in whatever it was. It was Martin who spoke, though. “It’s Jon. He’s…” His shoulders slumped, and he looked suddenly exhausted. “He’s getting worse, Tim. I, I mean, I think he’s as healed as he’s ever going to be physically, but…”

“He’s ridiculously paranoid,” Sasha said, gesticulating wildly. “I caught him going through my desk a couple weeks ago. And he lied about it, but I know he’s been following me, too. You weren’t here last week when he went after Martin, but—”

“Not like that,” Martin cut in swiftly. “Not—I, I mean, he didn’t attack me or anything, I…”

“Martin,” Sasha and Tim said in unison.

Martin, if anything, slumped even further. “He accused me of killing Gertrude.”

“He accused you?” Tim exclaimed. If he was trying to throw suspicion off of himself, Jon had picked the worst possible candidate for that. “Why, for God’s sake?”

“He found a letter…well, he found a statement. Remember Trevor Herbert, the vampire hunter? I told Jon he died after he gave his statement, but apparently there was more than the one he found, and, and maybe he didn’t actually die? I dunno.” Martin rubbed at his face for a moment. “But then he said he’d found a letter I wrote to my mum and…”

Tim sighed and shook his head. “Okay. So he’s paranoid. I get that. He was stalking me, too. What was that about Elias? Was he asking you about Jon?”

Martin winced. “I, I went to talk to him.”

“Martin!”

“I know! I know, it’s…I don’t want him to get fired or anything. But he’s not listening to us, Tim. Somebody’s got to do something.”

“Maybe he should get fired,” Sasha said, not quite under her breath. “If he’s going to keep going on like this.”

Tim ignored her. That could easily be spite on her part; despite her claims, and despite how long it had been, he didn’t think she was actually resigned to not having got the Archivist position. He also wouldn’t put it past her to knife him in order to get it. Martin, on the other hand, was genuine—and genuinely miserable about it. He wanted to help Jon. He’d just chosen the worst possible way of going about it.

Clearly it was going to be one of those days.

Focusing on Martin, Tim tried to keep his tone neutral. “What did you say to Elias?”

Martin looked miserable. “I just told him what’s been going on. And that maybe we should…I dunno, do something about it.”

“I talked to him, too,” Sasha interjected. “He agreed with me that Jon’s behavior is out of control and it needs to stop. He’s been doing it to you, too—don’t you agree?”

Tim ground his teeth. “Maybe, but—”

“Ah, Tim. May I have a word with you, please?”

Tim turned to see Elias standing a few feet away, hands folded in front of him and an expression of infinite patience on his insufferable face. He inclined his head towards a door to his left, which led to the small meeting room that got used for department head meetings rather than the more formal room to impress donors and trustees. “We needn’t go up to my office, we can just step in here.”

Since telling Elias where he could shove it would necessitate removing both his head and the stick already lodged in there, and saying that he would sooner chew off both hands at the wrists and wear them as earrings than lodge a formal complaint about Jon’s behavior with the head of the Institute would send Martin into a worse anxiety spiral than he was already in, Tim flashed Elias a huge, completely insincere grin and stepped into the meeting room as requested.

He waited until Elias actually came into the room and indicated that he should do so before he took a seat. The table was a long one that could easily seat a dozen people, set so that whoever was at the head of the table could see anyone entering; Tim, rather deliberately, selected a seat along one of the longer sides and pushed back from the table a bit, just to see what Elias would do.

Rather than sit at the head of the table with his hands folded formally on its top, Elias actually chose to sit in the chair next to Tim’s, which he also pushed back from the table. He propped one leg across the other knee, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, and steepled his fingers. It was the most relaxed posture Tim had ever seen the man adopt, including when he’d come to Jon’s birthday surprise and very pointedly sung Happy birthday, dear Archivist directly in Tim’s ear—an open, casual, this is just an informal chat sort of posture.

Tim distrusted it instantly.

“I’m certain your colleagues have spoken to you about Jon’s behavior,” he said in an even, reasonable tone. “The paranoia, the constant suspicion of the three of you, the accusations, the surveillance, the…clandestine recording. Certainly I doubt Martin would have brought it to my attention except as a last resort, although, perhaps, I should have noticed sooner.”

“How?” Tim said pointedly. Not that he expected an honest answer out of him. “We’re in the basement. None of us come in the front door if we can help it. Nobody from up here comes down, and there’s no CCTV coverage in the Archives. I know you say nothing escapes your notice, but how exactly were you meant to notice Jon’s behavior if nobody came to complain?”

Elias gazed at him steadily. “Yes. Why have none of you come to me, by the way? If the situation is truly becoming…”

“Untenable?” Tim supplied, echoing Elias’s words from the discussion about his own behavior. He clenched his fist to keep from visibly working at the ring on his finger and stared Elias down, pressing against his mental barriers to keep them upright. “If you’re asking if I told them not to come to you, then no. We haven’t talked about it like that. Would I have encouraged them to talk to you? Absolutely not. If they’d told me they were planning to, I’d probably have tried to talk them out of it, because I am not sure anything you can do will help matters.”

“I do have the CCTV footage from the day of the murder,” Elias said thoughtfully. “The presumed day of the murder, anyway.”

That right there? That was bait. Elias definitely wanted Tim to ask about the footage, to hook him in and make him enter into whatever bullshit game he was playing. Tim crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re asking why I didn’t come to you about the way Jon was behaving towards Sasha and Martin? It’s because I was handling it. Or I thought I was. I didn’t know how bad it was affecting them because Martin was trying not to get him in trouble and Sasha was waiting for him to push things too far to walk back before she said anything, which tells me you spoke to her first.”

Elias’s eyebrows lifted, just slightly, and Tim immediately threw up a few extra wards to keep him from probing deeper. After a moment’s pause, Elias continued in the same reasonable tone. “All right. Why did you not come to me about the way he is behaving towards you? I presume there have been…incidents. Martin mentioned seeing pictures of your house on Jon’s desk.”

“Yeah, he was following me a couple weeks ago,” Tim said with a shrug. “Badly, might I add. I took care of it. And it didn’t happen on Institute property or company time, so really, it was none of your business.”

“Did you take care of it?” Elias asked pointedly. “Or do you just believe that whatever you said to Jon did the trick?”

“I haven’t seen him since I called him out, which means he’s either leaving me alone or he’s learned how to stalk people less conspicuously, so yeah, I’d say it did the trick,” Tim shot back.

“Or he’s simply decided you’re none of his concern.” Elias paused. “Yet.”

That was also bait, but it was bait Tim had to grind his teeth very hard to avoid chomping at. He knew damn well what Elias was implying, or trying to imply, in such a way that if Tim tried to use his words as justification for whatever he did he could plausibly deny he’d said anything of the sort. With anyone else it might have been something of the “you’re not important enough to matter to him in the grand scheme of things” variety, which could spur an impulsive hothead into action, but Tim heard the underlying concern loud and clear: Jon, if Jon had been the one to murder Gertrude Robinson, might be focusing on Martin and Sasha as his next victims to begin with. Tim might be too much for him to handle…yet. The subtle threat made him bristle a little, and he had to remind himself to settle down, to not jump down Elias’s throat. To not let him know how close he’d come to striking a nerve.

“Or,” he said instead, “you made a shitty choice for the replacement Archivist, and the combination of duties and responsibilities and…obligations…that comes with that position is eating away at his mind and slowly driving him insane.”

Elias’s expression never changed, but Tim knew the remark had struck home. Not the part where he was critical of Elias—Elias expected that, it would be suspicious if Tim wasn’t insolent and borderline subordinate at this point—but the part where he suggested that Jon’s mind wasn’t up to hosting the Archivist. There were dozens, possibly hundreds, of statements in the Archives from people who’d got too close or too deep too quickly and ended up losing their sanity, and ultimately their lives. Depending on how far and how fast Jon went down that route, it could be a disaster for just him, or for the entire staff.

Luckily, at least luckily for Tim, that wasn’t what was happening. Jon’s behavior came from him, not from the Archivist, and a big part of Tim’s job was keeping Jon from biting off more than he could swallow. Hell, he hadn’t even started compelling people properly. He was a lot more resilient than people, even Martin, gave him credit for. But Elias didn’t know that for certain and Tim had just introduced a healthy bit of doubt into his current world view. Whatever was going on, he hadn’t picked Jon out of desperation; he needed him, specifically. Tim didn’t know why and wasn’t going to ask, but he realized, as he waited for Elias to respond with a raised eyebrow and an insouciant posture, that he’d just bought them all a little time.

“I had intended to have a…disciplinary meeting with Jon,” Elias finally said slowly. “Similar to the one I had with you a few weeks back. But I think, in light of your…observations, perhaps it’s best if we do something a bit more informal.”

“We?” Tim repeated.

“How do you think Jon would respond to an intervention?”

Badly, was the answer. Exactly how badly would depend on how the intervention was staged, how they phrased it, what time of day they went for it, and whether or not Elias or Sasha or both goaded Martin into saying what he was actually thinking instead of being diplomatic. It didn’t take an expert to know that Martin’s opinion of him was the one Jon was most dependent on and keenest not to lose. And while Tim was…admittedly less certain than he previously had been that Jon had been the one to murder Gertrude, that was by no means certain, and if he had there was every risk he would take that as a sign to eliminate those who opposed him.

On the other hand, maybe they’d get lucky and he’d go for Elias first.

“Best get it over with now,” he said, putting his hands on his knees and making like he was going to stand. “He doesn’t usually go out for lunch, but maybe if we convince him he’s being an idiot first he’ll actually eat something.”

Elias actually looked momentarily startled at that, like he hadn’t expected Tim to actually agree, or maybe like he’d expected to have a little bit of time before they actually did it. Nevertheless, he rose to his feet. “An excellent point. Let’s see if Martin and Sasha are still outside the room.”

“They are. They think you’re going to fire me. Or at least Martin does.” Tim rose, too. “But we both know better, don’t we…sir?”

Elias stared at Tim for perhaps half a second longer than was strictly necessary. “Quite.”

At this point, Tim wasn’t even surprised to see that he was right. Martin and Sasha were indeed hovering a few feet away, one anxious and the other impatient, and both straightened when they Tim and Elias emerge. Tim ignored Elias, walked over to them, and clapped both on the shoulders. “It’s okay. We’re going to stage an intervention.”

Martin visibly relaxed, which told Tim he’d been right—he was genuinely afraid, especially after Tim had called him out for going to Elias, that Jon was going to be fired and it would somehow be his fault. Sasha, too, seemed to relax a little, probably because she took the it’s okay to be for them, not for Jon. Either way, they fell into step willingly behind Tim, who graciously allowed Elias to go first down the steps.

He only gave a tiny, fleeting thought to pushing him down them, which could probably be considered progress.

The door to the Archivist’s office, unsurprisingly, was shut. Elias raised his hand as he approached it, clearly preparing to knock, but Tim ducked under it and grabbed the knob. Jon’s paranoia about being discovered doing…whatever he was doing was one thing, but he genuinely hated it when people knocked on his door—especially twice—and the last thing they needed to do was set him on edge right from the get-go, even though something told him that had been exactly Elias’s intention for whatever fucking reason. He opened the door stepped into the office, and bowed theatrically, sweeping one arm forward in the most ostensible, dramatic fashion he could.

“Yes, thank you, Tim.” Elias sighed and strode into the office, Martin and Sasha in his wake. “Jon. We need to talk.”

Jon squared his shoulders almost defensively. As Tim shut the door, he reached over for the tape recorder and, without breaking eye contact with Elias, pressed the RECORD button.

“You don’t mind if I record this, I trust?” he said, a slight edge to his voice.

“Well, to be honest—” Elias began.

“That’s kind of one of the things we wanted to talk about,” Tim interrupted smoothly. When Jon’s eyes flicked over towards him, he quickly rolled his pointer finger over a couple of times in what he hoped would be interpreted as a keep going sort of gesture. Elias almost certainly wanted him to shut it off, and yeah, it was probably bothering Martin and Sasha—especially Sasha, for some reason—to have their every interaction recorded, but eventually they were going to start turning themselves on for Jon automatically the way they sometimes had for Gertrude, and sometimes did for Tim, which he hadn’t mentioned to anyone. One way or another, this was probably going on record, and it would make Jon feel better if it was voluntary for now, at least on his part.

“This is an intervention,” Martin said, in as gentle a voice as he could.

Not gentle enough. Jon rose to his feet, eyes blazing. “Excuse me.”

“If you’d rather this was an official disciplinary hearing, Jon, we can arrange it,” Elias said pointedly.

Jon looked momentarily like a scolded child, then seemed to visibly force himself to calm. “Fine. Say your piece.”

Martin licked his lips and glanced at Tim, then Elias, but Sasha beat him to the punch, her voice dripping with sincerity. Tim didn’t believe it for a second. “We care about you, Jon. And you’ve been rather erratic since the Prentiss incident.”

“And we’d, we’d really like…” Martin began, then stuttered, obviously not sure where he was going with it.

“To not have to fire you,” Elias put in.

The look of fear that flashed through Martin’s eyes made Tim want to punch Elias for that, but he recovered quickly and turned back to Jon. “To make sure you’re okay,” he said, emphatically.

“Look, I understand that I’ve been a bit distant lately,” Jon began.

Oh. Oh, no, that wasn’t going to work. Either Jon actually had no idea of what they all knew, or was hoping they wouldn’t say anything. Tim spoke up, pointedly. “You were watching my house.”

“You followed me on my lunch break, and searched my desk,” Sasha pointed out.

So she had known that; Gerry would be interested to know, Tim thought as Martin finally blurted, “You said I was lying about a murder!”

From the suddenly startled look on Jon’s face, Tim realized he was right—he hadn’t actually realized they all knew that. Or at least hadn’t realized they’d talked about it. “I, uh, uh, that is to say—” he stammered.

“You think we killed Gertrude,” Sasha broke in.

Martin genuinely flinched at that, and Tim put a supportive hand at his back as Jon sputtered, “No. It’s…I…” He swallowed, and then suddenly his chin came up in a determined, belligerent defiance. “Maybe. Maybe you did. I don’t know.”

Either Sasha had just given Jon a brilliant idea, or he really did believe that, and Tim genuinely wasn’t sure which. Elias shook his head, almost sadly. “Jon, this is absurd. This goes far beyond an unhealthy work environment. I'll admit it's partly my fault for letting it get this bad. I, I should have stepped in earlier.”

Jon puffed up slightly, and Tim decided, no. No, this was where he needed to step in, he needed to stop this now or someone—either Jon or Martin or both—was going to get hurt. “What’s your evidence? Or are you just going on gut feelings?” He gestured at Sasha, Martin, and himself. “You’ve done your research. What are the red flags? You can’t build a case on maybes.”

“It’s not right,” Martin insisted.

Jon’s eyes snapped to Martin, and there was a flicker of something in them that told Tim he badly wanted to agree, but couldn’t let himself. “We’ve gone a long way beyond right or wrong, Martin. There are monsters out there and I don’t know who or where they are or if any of you…” His hand went, almost unconsciously, to his upper arm, where the stab wound he’d refused to explain was giving him yet another scar. “If you want me to trust you, then I’m sorry, but I need evidence.”

Elias sighed heavily and handed Jon what he’d been holding. Not, Tim realized, a folder. A DVD case. “Here.”

“And this is?” Jon asked, but he took it.

“A copy of all the CCTV footage from the week Gertrude disappeared,” Elias replied. “The police finally finished cleaning it up and examining it, and returned a copy.”

Jon gave Elias a suspicious look. “There aren’t any cameras in the Archives.”

“But there are everywhere else, including all of the entrances into the Archives and across all the feeds,” Elias pointed out. “It provides a remarkably detailed account of all of our movements over that week, even yours.”

“And you think this gives everyone an alibi?” Jon demanded.

“The police certainly do. Everyone who was here, at any rate. But feel free to check it yourself.”

Jon pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, but all he said was, “Thank you. I will.”

Sasha stuck her hands on her hips. “And let’s have no more of this paranoia.”

Tim was pretty sure he was the only one that noticed the recorder shut itself off before Jon reached for it.

He followed the others out of Jon’s office, went over to his desk, and unlocked the top drawer—locking it was unnecessary, the same key worked on all the desks and honestly you could jar it loose with a good hefty shove of your hip, but he did it so nobody would suspect he kept the really important secret stuff he didn’t want anyone to know about in his bag—then rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. Ignoring Martin and Sasha, and not even caring if Elias was still there or not, he stalked back into the Archivist’s office and tossed a stack of papers on to Jon’s desk. “Here.”

Jon, who had been examining the DVD case, started and looked up at Tim, his expression somewhere between annoyance and suspicion. “What is this?”

“Receipts. Hotels, plane tickets, train tickets, round trip ferry ticket, meals and the occasional purchase receipt. Everything I expensed back to the Institute.” Tim cocked his head at Jon and indicated the DVD. “I won’t be on that recording. I told you a while ago, I was away when she was killed, on official Archive business. But, here, you can track my movements anyway. Maybe make a few phone calls, although I can’t tell you how many people I talked to will even remember me. I was trying to be careful.”

He’d either just made things better or made things a hell of a lot worse, he thought as he headed back into the Archives proper to try and get some more work done. Either way, it was done. The die was cast; let the chips fall where they may. Or as that old American television show had put it, the avalanche had begun—it was too late for the pebbles to vote. He was just going to have to keep his head down, keep doing his job, and hope he’d done the right thing.

It was all he could do for the moment.

[jb-nonsense]

wait but I wanna know why Theron's your least favorite :D explanation? (positive connotation i prommy)

Well it all started as a journey. It's a long journey, for sure, of a varying opinion change over the years of playing the game, from forces inside the game and outside the game. But I am not one to post things negatively about other people's favs out in the open so readmore it is

So we begin this journey as a wide eyed newbie player just figuring out what I wanted my legacy to be with my first knight, Leeloa. A friend was playing along with me, and I really enjoyed the Doc romance because I am definitely a fan of the 'player gets played by his own game and catches feelings' trope. Well, I get to SOR and mention to friend that I think Theron's fun and she tells me to ditch Doc because she didn't like him and thought Leeloa could do better.

I ended up remaking Leeloa because I listened then did not like that course, because it just didn't fit Leeloa. So honestly, I did like him when I first started.

But then writing happens, and it felt like he...Never developed past the whole "reckless, I do things when I do them" kind of persona, especially with the betrayal. And the more I delved into information on SWTOR, it just...Bothered me. He's descended from the hero of the original games, but oh no not force sensitive, but he's a great spy so amazing.

Why?? Because he had some Jedi training because it was expected for him to be force sensitive but oh no he WASN'T what a shock...

Except that...Doesn't really track with the Jedi and, everyone hates me, but the test for the midichlorians. They would know, they wouldn't just assume because his mom was Satele.

And somehow, despite acting in the most unspy like ways, he's a great spy. I don't know why anyone would have the Grand Master of the Jedi Council's son as a spy because that is just a huge liability.

I'll admit I haven't read the extra material because I just think it's...Kind of silly to have content outside of a video game beyond, say, a short story or a short comic.

There's just a lot of his story that if you look at it closer and in the grand scheme of Star Wars, is just absolutely ridiculous and maybe, a bit more Gary Stu than Luke.

Now then, to the writing and how he was treated in expacs. (This area is a place where Lana is also on thin fuckin ice.) The absolute favoritism shown to him by the devs drove me crazy. It started to weed away at my liking him and move me more into the exasperated/tired/neutral about him. You have this whole giant alliance, but the focus being on him and Lana so much was just annoying, especially considering it was Koth who helped the Outlander escape in the beginning chapters and how he got pushed aside. It didn't narratively feel...Cohesive and just a 'Look at the Sh*n kid go!'

The nail in the coffin is how the fandom acts about how he's a golden boy, how he gets fawned over, and honestly?? I just hate liking those characters for personal reasons. It always seems like people ignore what we're given about the character and expanding on it and, instead, ignore it and write an entirely different personality with the face they think is cute. I am huge on consistency, it's my style of writing, my preferred style of reading (thanks literary analysis class in college you ruined me), so fandom just fucked me over from liking him and while he's still friends with my knight, I try my hardest to ignore fandom with him, do my best to try to enjoy him, because I do intend to run all the game romances for gif making purposes.

Also he's really written as playersexual if you play a light side character and some conversations felt awkward like the devs were expecting you to have romanced him.