#literally was looking up chair references under a desk

[kibabanana]

Tiktok is dying

So im going to post some of the videos i made over the years here.

Only the ones i like tho.

I dont like this one, but i drew it when we went into a hard lockdown over a possible gun threat.

There was other kids crying in the corner, worried things would escalate. Then there was me drawing a furry homosexual in his home office doing work.

And it fucking sucks. Actual garbage- they shouldve shot me for this one

[nereidprinc3ss]

behave

in which fem!reader REALLY wants spencer's attention while he's working

18+ (no smut but sex is talked about) warnings: mentions of sex, spencer grabs readers wrist to stop her from doing something but its not violent, reader is referred to as a girl, no use of y/n, um i think that's it WC: 870 a/n: i have damn near 40 pages of spencer WIP so im biting the bullet and posting some of it. also.. if you want a plot... babe this is not the place for you im sorry... ive never even heard of a plot actually. i dont know about rising and falling action... i dont believe in that. it sounds fake

It feels like Spencer has been at his desk for hours. 

And for hours you've been lounging on the couch, reading your book in silence so as to let him work. But you're becoming... antsy. Impatient. Every time you drop your book and stare at him, willing your white-hot gaze to draw his attention; nothing. He just keeps shuffling papers, signing, writing, reading reading reading. 

At ten, you give up.  

You make a show of slamming your book shut, sighing, slowly sitting up, stretching, standing, stretching again--when you turn your head, expecting your little performance to have at least earned a look from him; still, nothing. 

"Spence?" you ask, innocuously, as you round the couch and draw toward him carefully, slowly, on light feet. A display of faux innocence. It’s not that you intend to bother him, per se--you're just so bored. 

He hums in response, eyes still glued to his work as he searches for something among the mess of paper. 

You come to a stop in front of the mahogany desk, tracing the edge of it idly with wandering fingertips. 

"What are you looking at?" you ask, in reference to a photo he seems to now be studying intently.  

"Nothing you need to see," is his muttered response, quickly flipping the photo face down on the desk and picking up a form walled in migraine-inducing tiny black text. You watch the way he scans the paper, brow knitted, and eyes squinted, clearly not paying you very much attention. 

You move languidly around the desk, letting the wood drag against your hip the whole way, before reaching for the overturned photo--just to see what he'll do. 

Spencer catches your wrist, his grip gentle and warm but not without portent. "What did I just say, grabby?" 

Sadly, they're the most words you've gotten out of him since this afternoon. 

You sigh dramatically and drape yourself across his lap, looping your arms around his neck. To your initial satisfaction he shifts slightly to accommodate you--and then continues to look over your shoulder like he hardly notices the pretty girl on top of him. 

"When will you be done?" you purr, tracing his jaw with a finger.

"I'll be done when I'm done." 

God, he can be stubborn. 

"Can you be done any sooner than that?" 

"What do you think I'm going to say to that," comes his flat reply, still not sparing you a glance. You watch enviously as his eyes dart down the paper he's reading over your shoulder.  

"Then I'm staying right here until you're finished." 

"You can stay here if you can behave." 

You scoff, bunching the fabric on the back of his shirt in your fists. "What do you mean, if I can behave?" 

Finally, you hear Spencer set down his pen, and he leans back in his chair to regard you. His gaze finally on you is like an ice bath. You literally have to repress the urge to shiver under his evaluation; the slightly raised eyebrows, the line of his mouth a little harder than usual. His 'you know exactly what I'm talking about so don't play dumb' look. 

For a few tense seconds, you let your eyes dart between his, not wanting to break first. Unfortunately, you think that look of his could freeze saltwater.  

"Fine," you mutter, flushing when you look down at his shirt collar instead. If you're being reasonable, he probably is doing something important. You drag your gaze back up to his and see that his eyes have softened. 

"Thank you," he says, gentler, squeezing your leg before running his hand over it back and forth a few times. "I know I'm not being very fun today. When I'm done we can do whatever you want to do." 

The urge to say, 'whatever I want to do?' is strong, but you manage to bite your tongue as he reaches back over you to continue his work. Instead, you content yourself to lean against him, allowing his solidity and warmth to envelop you for some immeasurable stretch of time.  

Rain starts up, battering the windowpane and accented by deep rolls of thunder. The scratch of Spencer's pen on paper, the rustle of files, and the scent of patchouli and amber begins to lull you into a doze--a comfortable place between awake and asleep. It's the kind of comatose unconsciousness that bends and liquifies time, and you don’t even realize you fell asleep until you’re waking up. 

Spencer murmurs your name, brushing your hair carefully out of your face. "Did you fall asleep, angel?" His voice is soft, just above a whisper.  

"Mhm," you groan, rubbing your eyes. "How long has it been?" 

"A few hours," he sighs. "That file took a lot longer than it should have, I'm sorry." 

You're still bleary as you speak next; 

"The thing was sex." 

"What?" he laughs, rubbing your leg as you adjust yourself in his lap. 

"You said we could do whatever I wanted to do when you were done, and it was sex. But now I'm tired." 

"Let's get you to bed," he begins, "and revisit the sex idea in the morning. Does that work for you?" 

You smile against his shirt, eyes already fluttering closed again. 

"Mhm..." 

[ryngzmn]

₊˚ෆ | moving up | S.B (2)

SUMMARY: After you helped him learn how to use a mobile phone, Ben comes to you a few days later so he can learn how to use a laptop.

WORD COUNT: 818.

WARNINGS: not proofread, little bit of swearing, maybe OOC Ben???, use of Y/N (only once).

A/N: a few people suggested I make this a series where reader teaches Ben how to use various pieces of modern technology and I LOVED that idea so here I am with my first series<3. also literally could not come up with a title so I js decided on some basic one…

part one! | part three! | part four! | part five!

Ever since you forced helped Ben work a mobile phone, you realized he started being a little nicer to you.

He didn’t call you names as often and he didn’t yell at you whenever you didn’t refer to him as his super name.

You didn’t ask him about it since you thought that if you did, he’d go back to his bitchy self.

—————————————————————————

Butcher and the others had just left for yet another mission that Butcher didn’t let you go on.

Apparently, he had also noticed how Ben seemed to be a little nicer to you compared to the rest of The Boys.

You didn’t necessarily mind not going on mission and risking injuries, per say, but it got a little boring constantly being told to stay back and watch Ben to make sure he doesn’t blow something up.

Right now, you were sitting at a random desk that was placed in the makeshift hideout, just minding your own business.

Well, you were minding your own business until you heard Ben’s booming voice speak up as he approached you.

“Hey, Y/N.” You raised your head and looked in his direction.

The first thing you noticed was the laptop tucked firmly under his arm. You raised an eyebrow, wondering whose it was since Ben obviously didn’t know how to work a laptop.

“Whose laptop is that, Ben?” You questioned skeptically.

“It’s Hughie’s.” Ben said smugly, throwing a thumb over his shoulder and gesturing to the now empty desk that once had Hughie’s laptop on it before he left.

“Seriously, Ben—“ Before you could protest further, Ben grabbed a chair and placed it next to yours, putting the laptop between you.

“Teach me how to use this thing.” Ben said in a slightly demanding tone.

You rolled your eyes and opened it, noting how Hughie surprisingly didn’t use a password in his laptop.

“Okay, well..” You sighed and looked over at Ben, pointing at the smooth squared area below the keyboard that you were dragging your finger on.

“This is how you drag the cursor. You can also plug in a mouse instead of using that.” Ben just stared at you, his forehead creased.

“A mouse? Why the fuck would you plug in a mouse to a laptop?”

You shook your head, shoulders slumping a bit.

“Not an actual mouse. Like a, uh…” You found yourself stumped on how to explain so you turned back to the laptop and opened the web browser.

“This is the web browser, there’s multiple of these but it looks like Hughie just uses Google. This is where you look stuff up.”

You quickly typed in the word laptop mouse and then turned the screen towards him.

“This is what I meant by mouse. It’s basically a different way to move the cursor.”

Ben nodded before looking at you again. “What’s a cursor?”

You pointed to the small white arrow that was in the middle of the screen. “That’s the cursor.”

“Oh, okay.” Ben moved the laptop closer to him and started snooping through Hughie’s apps and messages.

“Ben-“ You frowned, gently taking the laptop away from him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Ben scoffed and mumbled something close to “party pooper” under his breath before he snatched the laptop back.

“I jus’ wanna do something real quick.” He mused, going to Hughie’s messages and scrolling until he found Butcher’s contact.

“What are you doing?” Ben held up a finger to silence you before he started typing something.

You shook your head in disappointment as you read what Ben was trying to send to Butcher.

‘I hate you, you stupid British fuck’

After clicking the send button, Ben laughed boisterously, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, I can’t wait to see Butcher’s reaction to that message.”

“He’ll probably know it’s you.” You butt in, arms crossed across your chest like an angry parent.

Ben let out a defiant huff. “No he won’t, he’ll totally think Hughie sent it and then chew him a new one.”

—————————————————————————

Eventually, when everyone got back after you taught Ben how to maneuver through a laptop some more, Butcher saw the text and showed it to Hughie.

You sat back with Ben and watched as the color drained from Hughie’s face in a horrific expression.

“I didn’t send that!” He started defending himself immediately, making various points on how the time didn’t match up and how he would never say that to Butcher.

Butcher chuckled before turning to you and Ben, you didn’t hesitate to rat Ben out.

“It was his idea. I was just showing him how to work a laptop.” Ben shot you a glare as you were glad looks couldn’t kill because you’d definitely be dead meat right now.

It was safe to say that instead of Butcher chewing Hughie a new one, it was Ben on the receiving side of Butcher’s scolding.

—————————————————————————

reblogs n feedback r appreciated! <3

[xuchiya]

"Chilly hot weather vibe" || jung wooyoung || one-shot

| genre: non!idol ateez. fluff. slice of life | mentions: teasing. fainting. jewelry gift. | This is literally my high school delusions. My old school is literally an 'old school' school like no phones and computers, being in a relationship is not allowed, and big ass windows as our source of fans--- i mean we do have electric fans and ceiling fans but with the weather and a very old, close to dying, e-fans? We really have to depend on the wind from our windows. Anyways, this list is basically a true experience. My personal favorite? Song Mingi's.

It was the hottest day of the year, and the summer heat had settled over the school like a thick, suffocating blanket. Your uniform clung to your skin, sticky and uncomfortable, as fans around the classroom struggled to offer relief. Clusters of classmates surrounded each fan, seeking refuge from the oppressive warmth. Some had even sprawled out on the floor like starfish, their uniforms loosened in a desperate attempt to cool off.

You thought about joining them, but space was scarce, and squeezing into an already crowded area didn’t seem worth the effort. Instead, you found yourself gravitating toward the windows, hoping for even the smallest breeze. Leaning against the metal grills, you closed your eyes, silently pleading for the wind to offer some relief.

After what felt like an eternity, a soft breeze finally swept through the window. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you sigh in contentment. You rested your head against the cool metal, savoring the brief escape from the relentless heat.

Just as you were beginning to relax, something nudged your thigh, startling you. Opening your eyes, you looked down to find a chair pushed against your leg. Seated in that chair was Jung Wooyoung, arms folded on the desk in front of him, his head resting on top.

You frowned and nudged the chair back slightly. “Find your own space,” you muttered, pulling your own chair closer to the window as you sat down and stretched your legs against the wall.

Wooyoung groaned, barely lifting his head to look at you, his hair tousled from leaning on his arms. "Too hot to move," he complained, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "Besides, this spot by the window looks nice."

“Not for you,” you shot back, glaring at him. Wooyoung was always like this, finding ways to get on your nerves. No matter how much you bickered, he always managed to end up near you. He looked up at you with a half-smirk, his eyes twinkling mischievously despite the heat. “Come on, just let me stay. Sharing is caring, right?”

You rolled your eyes and tried to push his chair again, but he held his ground stubbornly. "You’re annoying, you know that?"

“You’re just mad because I beat you in class last week,” he teased, referring to the quiz where he had outscored you by a single point. You had taken it as a personal challenge, and now Wooyoung wasn’t letting you forget it.

“You’re only ahead because I was distracted,” you retorted, crossing your arms. "Next time, you won’t be so lucky."

“Sure, sure,” he said with a lazy grin, clearly enjoying your frustration. "But for now, let’s just enjoy this cool breeze together."

You huffed but didn’t push him away again. This time, Wooyoung grabbed your chair and pulled it closer to him, beside him. Your eyes widened as he rested his head on your chair instead, placing your hand on his head as if silently asking you to play with his hair.

For a moment, you froze, but then your fingers found themselves gently running through his hair. To your surprise, it was soft and smooth, and soon you were absentmindedly twirling strands between your fingers or braiding small sections before brushing them away.

The truth was, as much as Wooyoung got under your skin, there was something about his presence that was oddly comforting. Maybe it was the fact that you had been friends for so long, or maybe it was the way he always brought a bit of chaos into your life. Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny that things were never boring when Wooyoung was around.

Minutes passed, and the heat remained relentless, but neither of you moved. You both stayed by the window, silently appreciating the occasional breeze. It felt like a truce had been called, and for once, the bickering had subsided.

Then, Wooyoung broke the silence, lifting his head as your hand dropped to your lap. “You know,” he began, his voice softer than usual, “you’re cute when you're annoyed.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. “Is that supposed to flatter me?”

“Maybe,” he replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon outside the window. “We argue a lot, but… it’s never boring with you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his candidness. “Are you feeling okay?” you asked, half-jokingly, placing a hand on his forehead. “The heat must be getting to you.”

Wooyoung chuckled lightly but then turned his head slightly to look at you, his expression more serious. He took your hand from his forehead and placed it against his chest. “Maybe. Or maybe I just never told you that before.”

You didn’t know how to respond, momentarily stunned by his sincerity. This was Wooyoung—the prankster, the one who always teased you—suddenly being open and vulnerable. The unexpected shift made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Before you could say anything, he flicked your forehead gently, breaking the tension. “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, almost embarrassed by his own admission, as he turned his face toward the window again. "Just thought you should know."

You studied him for a moment, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. But there was something different about this quiet moment—something that felt deeper than your usual banter.

Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was something else entirely, but for once, you didn’t have a snappy comeback. Instead, you let yourself relax beside him, allowing the moment to linger in the quiet of the room. Neither of you said anything more, but Wooyoung’s unspoken confession hung in the air, soft and subtle, like the gentle breeze that occasionally drifted through the window.

Without exchanging words, you leaned your head down on your desk, turning to face him. Wooyoung turned his head too, your eyes met, and a smile tugged at both of your lips.

[ambrozjas]

Could you do a song-fic with Sodapop Curtis w/ the song "Stupid Cupid" by Connie Francis? Love your writing, take your time 💕

stupid cupid ꨄ︎

sodapop curtis x fem!reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

THIS WAS SITTING IN MY INBOX FOR SO LONG BUT I LITERALLY LOCKED IN FOR THIS FIC ITS SO CUTE I SWEAR JUST READ ITTT

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

reader is referred to as a girl and a lady, reader is called gorgeous and beautiful, beginning of this fic has soda in highschool so it takes place before the outsiders

✧˖*°࿐ word count ᰔᩚ

1609 words, 8588 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

stupid cupid, you’re a real mean guy

i’d like to clip your wings so you can’t fly

it felt like the roman god of love had shot sodapop right through the heart, and boy did soda hate it. that’s all that he thought while he gazed at you, chin held in palm as he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. when the school air had a chokehold on everybody, it left out you. you looked absolutely divine. soda wondered if the gods, if there were any or it was just some stories made up to fill the minds of lovesick kids like himself, favored you. because as he looked at you, the sun just seemed to reflect off you just right, to where it coated the side of your face with a honey orange. you looked like an angel sent on earth, disguised as a teenager in soda’s highschool. he asked himself what you were doing in tulsa rather than some other fancy state like california.

i’m in love and it’s a crying shame

and i know that you’re the one to blame

“mr. curtis.” a stern voice broke through to sodapop, breaking the stained glass that in soda’s mind, was a mural of you and only you.

he snapped his neck to look up at the teacher, hovering over his desk as a finger harshly pointed at the paper on soda’s desk, almost empty.

“uh—sorry, sir.” mumbled sodapop as he grabbed his pencil and put his best thinking face on, hoping that the teacher would take the hint and retreat back to his old scratched up desk that looked like it had survived world war one.

the teacher narrowed his eyes at him, his upper lip curling into a sneer as he looked down at soda, before slowly walking back to his desk.

soda comically sighed in relief, taking one more glance back at you. he pressed his lips together tightly as he saw you talking to your friends. he always loved seeing you smile.

he exhaled sharply, earning another warning look from his teacher. soda tilted his head down as he studied the math problems below him, cradling his hand in his hand as his brain tried his best to work.

hey, hey set me free

stupid cupid, stop picking on me

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

i cant do my homework and i cant think straight

“what’s up with you?” ponyboy asked, not looking up from his book. in the corner of his eye, he watched sodapop bounce his leg vigorously as he tried to rub his temples to somehow think better.

“nothin’, pony. don’t worry ‘bout it.” soda responded. he threw his head back to lean on the top of the chair, he was really out of ideas. all that occupied his mind was you. he was writing an essay? you pop up into his brain, he accidentally writes your name to which he has to erase afterwards with red ears.

i meet her every morning ‘bout half past eight

i’m acting like a lovesick fool

you even got me carrying your books to school

how could sodapop miss this once in a lifetime opportunity? he just had to talk to you. one day, when you guys met before school, your breath both evident in the cold oklahoma morning, you made a joke about soda carrying your stuff for you.

“here, be a gentleman, yeah?” a laugh slipper past your lips, and when soda heard that gorgeous sound come out of your mouth, how could he deny you?

your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape, not even getting the word out before soda grabbed the books from under your arm and held them under his.

you tilted your head as a smile graced your face. gosh, were there wedding bells? soda definitely heard them.

“y’know i was jokin’, right?” you asked, making sure you weren’t forcing him into doing anything. “i can take them back if you want—“

“nah, it’s alright.“ he brushed it off, waving his free hand dismissively before starting again, “plus, you’re right. how could i leave a pretty lady to carry her books on her own?” to that, you sheepishly grinned wider as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear shyly when you looked away.

you mixed me up for good right from the very start

hey now, go play robin hood with somebody else’s heart

the more that soda talked with you, the harder it was to get you out of his head. but the more he talked with you, the less he minded.

soda had dropped out of school. sure, you somewhat contributed to him failing with how much you occupied his head, but it was also on his own.

he was working at the dx with steve, working on cars all day to especially help darry out.

soda wiped his face with his forearm, cleaning his oily rag as steve rambled about something in the background. he hadn’t seen you in awhile, considering that instead of walking with you to school, darry had dropped steve and soda off at work.

but suddenly, the door tripped the bell, giving it a loud ring as soda looked up at who was walking through the door. and speak of the devil.

he could recognize you just from your sneakers. his head whipped back up to meet your eyes, and gosh was it refreshing to see your face again. a soft smile still remained on your face, as it usually did.

“sodapop! so you really was workin’ here, huh?” you asked, eyes roaming around the multitude of shelves in the gas station interior.

soda’s mouth gaped, opening and closing like a fish. he watched as you walked up to the register and drummed your hands lightly on the counter.

“yeah!”, soda finally managed to blurt out, “how’ve you been? anythin’ new happen at school?” he asked, hearing steve finally shut up. soda could just imagine his ears pricking up at the sound of a pretty girl’s voice appearing.

“nothin’ much,” you leaned in and put a hand to the side of your mouth in a secretive manner, “mandy got pregnant.” soda gasped as he comically brought a hand up to his mouth. you guys whispered and gossiped, steve eyeballing both of you cautiously before slinging an arm around soda’s shoulders and brashly giving him a loud, “who’s this, soda?”

sodapop squinted at his friend and slowly turned his head, full of embarrassment. your eyes darted between the two of them, before giving steve a small wave and quietly giving him your name. your eyes fell back on soda, “well, i was just wonderin’ if you’d like to go to the drive-in wit’ me on saturday?”

“yeah, sure!” why was he acting like such a dork now? in front of the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen? but he sighed with relief when you nodded, giving him the same sweet smile you always greeted him with.

you got me jumping like a crazy clown

and i don’t feature what you’re putting down

once you had left the dx, soda went out to the garage and almost squealed, punching the air in excitement. steve narrowed his eyes as he watched through the garage windows, genuinely considering if soda was possessed or not.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

saturday couldn’t come quicker. it was already a great time leading up to the date, soda was confident. he was looked at himself in the mirror, popping his collar with assertiveness and heading out the door.

during the actual date, he tried to make subtle moves. shifting closer to you, touching thighs or linking pinkies. although you seemed okay with it, there was no engagement on your part. that almost worried soda, he knew you asked him on a date, but he was still overthinking. was he not all you expected? was he doing too much? too little?

but at the end of the date, when he drove you home in darry’s car that he begged to drive in, a small silence fell over you when you had reached your destination.

“y’need me to walk you up?”

“it’s alright, but do me a quick favor, will you?” soda couldn’t tear his eyes off your mouth when you spoke, lips painted a wine maroon color that somehow flowed so delicately with your words.

“anything.” was all soda said, before you placed your hand on the side of his cheek, giving him enough time to pull away, before closing your eyes and kissing him.

in that moment, it felt like you two were the only people in the world. just you, and soda, crammed into darry’s truck in the darkness of the night, only illuminated by the small light above you two on the car’s roof.

when you pulled away, you looked at soda’s lips, slightly parted and stained with a light purple-ish red as he looked at you, absolutely mesmerized.

“thank you. i’ll make sure to drop by the dx on my way home, ‘kay?” you said, not waiting for an answer as you bolted out of the vehicle due to your nearing curfew.

well since i’ve kissed her loving lips of wine

the thing that bothers me is that i like it fine

all soda could do was gape as he watched you depart into the sea of outside lights surrounding your front door and windows, watching you turn around give him a small wave once you opened the front door.

still dazed, all soda could do was wave back. before a wide grin appeared on his face as he covered his eyes with his hands.

stupid cupid, sodapop thought.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this better get some likes i worked my ass off for this little fic and it’s only a thousand words 😭😭

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[emjee]

hiiiiiiiiii I've had three glasses of wine and here's a WIP preview of the fic I'm calling "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (Library)" (aka Steve Rogers gets a library card circa 2011 and quickly learns about Librarians Vs. The PATRIOT Act)

“I can help who’s next.”

The next man in line at the reference desk of the Brooklyn Public Library was so handsome that Marian’s brain quickly supplied a list of five potential nicknames for him that the staff could use among themselves if he became a regular.

“Hi, I was uh, wondering about getting a library card?”

“Sure, I can help you with that! Are you a Brooklyn resident?”

“For a long time.”

“Have you had a card with us before? If you have I’ll check and see if you’re still in our system.”

“I did, but it was a very long time ago.” Neighborhood kid, she wondered, maybe just moved back to the old stomping grounds?

“Well, we keep the records for a couple of years, and we do like to check so we avoid duplicates. What would the name on file have been?”

“Is there something else you can search by?”

“If it’s under a name you don’t use we can try address and date of birth.”

“My birthday’s July 4th.”

A year would have been helpful, but they could circle back to that. “What’s it like sharing a birthday with a country?” she asked as she started typing.

“Well, the fireworks always made me feel special when I was a kid.”

“I’m sure. Do you remember what address we might have had on file?”

He took a moment to reply, and when he did his voice was calm, but soft enough that she had to learn forward to hear him. “I don’t think it’s there anymore.”

House fire? Gentrification?

This sort of thing happened from time to time—a patron came in who clearly had a story that made getting them what they needed less straightforward that it might otherwise have been. That wasn’t a problem; sorting that sort of thing was literally what the fine people of Brooklyn paid her for, but she was always curious about people’s stories. Sometimes they told you, sometimes they didn’t. She wasn’t going to ask, though. Curiosity or no, it was ultimately none of her business.

“None of that’s a problem,” she assured him. “I can make you a new card right now, if you have an ID and proof of address. Driver’s license would work for both, or a passport, state ID, student ID plus a piece of mail…”

“This is going to sound like a silly question, probably…” He looked at the ceiling, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase it.

“No such thing,” she said lightly. “Besides, we’ve probably heard it before. Probably ten times a day.”

“If I do get a card, does anyone…know? Besides you all, I mean.”

Marian sat straighter in her chair and immediately became all business. “Not a silly question at all. Any record that identifies you by name is confidential under New York state law. We don’t even let law enforcement have it.”

A genuine grin dawned  on his face and she immediately thought of three more possible nicknames. “Seriously?”

“Not unless they’ve got a warrant or a subpoena.”

“Huh. But it would have to be under my legal name?”

“We do need to have it on file, but if you have a name you’d rather use, we can make a note in the record. That’s the name your mail would come addressed to, and what the staff would call you.”

She watched him glance down, smile, and put a hand in his pocket.

“Yeah,” he said, producing his wallet and handing her his ID. “In that case.”

She set the ID on the counter in front of her while she opened a new card registration form and didn’t give it a proper look until she had her hands on the keyboard.

Well. That certainly explained a lot.

After entering ROGERS STEVEN GRANT into the record in a rapid clatter of keyboard strokes, she glanced back up at him and said, “What would you like me to put in the preferred name field.”

He gave it a moment’s thought. “Fred.”

She couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Excellent choice. Same last name?”

“Joke’s not as good if I change it.”

“Fair point.” She grabbed a fresh card from the drawer and scanned the barcode into the system, then saved the record. “Welcome to the Brooklyn Public Library, Mr. Rogers.”

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Personal Heater

Summary: Spencer has no heat in his apartment, but that doesn’t stop Reader from spending the night.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: fluff

Word count: 858

You are so stubborn. Stubborn to the point that Spencer finally caved and let you spend the night at his place, despite constantly telling you the heat is out. It took two weeks and several weather reports including wind mileage and humidity percentages, but you broke him. Now you’re in his bathroom, spitting your toothpaste and mouthwash concoction into his rickety sink. And it was your sharp, minty inhale that put the stamp of regret on the night.

Out of all potential points of convincing you to wait, he failed to mention that he lived in a building originally constructed in the early 1900s; when insulation wasn’t even a thought.

Your feet are freezing under the tile, and you’re convinced if you put enough force behind it, you can land in Spencer’s bed with one jump. Moving as minimally as possible sounds ideal because your legs feel as mobile as frozen pipes. But a screw-up will lead to you hitting the floor in the darkness, alerting your boyfriend in the living room, and — worst of all — you’ll have to admit he was right.

So instead, you lumber out of the bathroom, sliding your feet across the floor to navigate any potential hazards. The floor creaks with your weight. Once in the clear, you, quite literally, hop into bed. Spencer was still focused on some work at his desk, but he promised he wouldn’t be long since he was already in his robe. You took advantage of the time to gather the comforter and the extra blanket he’s been using. Then you grab some others folded neatly on a nearby chair (that you may or may not have fished out of his closet) and let them all fall on top of you. The warmth creeps in if you stay still and prevent drafts, but your feet instinctively rub together like they were sticks and you needed a fire. It’s the only movement you allow as you try to zone out enough to fall asleep, apart from the occasional kick to yourself for not being patient.

The benefit of being in an old building is that doors creak too. So Spencer coming in to call it a night is not subtle at all. He turns on the lamp on his side, and it’s the first time you’ve dreaded hearing him chuckle. “Well, well, well,” his tone is infuriating, “I see you found the extra blankets.”

You keep your eyes closed and hope for the best.

“I heard the floors creaking three minutes and 42 seconds ago, hun. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Dammit. You use your bitterness to turn on your right side, making sure to keep your body encased under the small mound of various cozy materials.

Spencer’s robe is tied: boring, plaid, and brown. But it gives him a secure layer over his fun pajamas, the light blue ones with cloud patterns, also known as the ones you got him. His hair is adorably messy and his lips purse into an annoyingly cute smile. “Anything you want to say to me?”

“Yes, actually,” You prop yourself up on your elbow and look him in the eye as you ask “How the hell does someone who grew up in Vegas tolerate freezing temperatures indoors in early spring?”

“Well, robes help, but it’s also not freezing,” He corrects. “It’s 43.4 degrees outside, which means it’s…” He feels the air for reference because it matters to him. “About 58.2 degrees in here right now considering what floor we’re on and —”

“If I admit you were right, will you please come to bed?” You fall back onto your pillow and pat his, utterly defeated. 

He doesn’t hesitate to switch off the lamp. Spencer climbs in and nestles under the comforter. “No need, I already know.”

You wish you had a snappy response to that, but Spencer’s hands are already distracting you by navigating blindly under the comforter. You take the hint and push yourself closer to him. When your bodies meet, he pulls your leg up so you can be just a little closer. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and your fingers end just above the back of his neck. You play with the hair you can reach and he finally kisses you. It’s sweet and slow, with no urge to prove a point. “Your nose is so cold.” You tell him.

“So is yours.” He replies, rubbing them together. He kisses the bridge of yours.

“I’m warming up though.” Slowly but surely. You try to keep your icy toes away from his to avoid ruining the moment.

“Good. Me too.” The hand keeping your leg steady slid up your back, finding a comfortable place to rest. “Seriously though, do you think you’ll be able to sleep tonight?”

“Yes.” You nod for extra assurance.

“Okay,” He rubs your back. “Wake me up if you can’t.” He gives you another precious kiss.

You want to say you’ll be fine, but you don’t feel like risking being wrong twice in 24 hours. So you plant a kiss on his forehead, and that’s good enough for him.

[spiralinghours]

“Personal Assistant” Pt 3

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairings: Mark Hoffman x reader (fem/afab)

Rating: R (definitely 18+ for this part, babes)

Tags/Warnings: Feeding kink, belly/dadbod appreciation (whatever you wanna call it—we love a thick Hoffman), switchy dynamics, mild daddy kink, the same ol’ inappropriate boss x secretary dynamics, nose riding/grinding, somewhat detailed cunnilingus, mild pet play (in that Hoffman gets referred to as a pig, dog, cat, etc)

Summary: Hoffman’s secretary brings him lunch. AND dessert 👀

Author’s Notes: These don’t really happen in any specific, chronological order. There IS a mention of Jigsaw here, but it’s unclear if the secretary knows Hoffman is an apprentice or not.

Probably errors. If so, will fix later lol

The lunch hour had gone on a little long… Not that it was your fault or anything. Not that it had interrupted much. You were just being a decent assistant, making sure your boss remembered to eat and took the time to de-stress in the middle of his day. The fact that you had you brought him a little extra dessert as a treat—in the form of a to-go box of tiramisu and a formidable slab of red velvet—was no inconvenience.

For extra insurance that Hoffman finished all his food (he needed the fuel for a

busy day, after all), and as part of your attentive duties, you were sure to perch on your usual spot on his lap in order to hand feed him as he clacked at his keyboard and skimmed through documents.

As he chewed and hiccuped through the last bits of his lunch, you smiled perkily, snaking your fingers under his waistband. You hefted his belly onto his lap, fingers tickling and lightly pressing into the sides.

“That’s enough for now, sweetheart. We have a press thing at two and I gotta be able to move around. I’m not gonna wanna get up with this treatment.” He groaned a little under his breath as he shifted in the chair, trying not to make the discomfort obvious. “Besides, I have to look presentable for the cameras.”

“Oooo, but sir, you look plenty presentable like this,” you practically purred, tone as sweet and low as a sugar packet.

In efforts to reassure him of such, you softly raked your fingers down over the front curve of his tummy, giving just enough soothing pressure. You also started picking at little things, tidying them up: buttoning a low-down shirt button that had come undone, straightening out his suspenders, smoothing out his dark blue tie (which he usually wore with a white shirt, as he did on this day, looking so handsome)… His combed-back hair had started to come loose from the day’s exertion (what little if at all Hoffman even had), falling in cute dark strands around his eyes. As you raised your hands to tuck the strands behind his ears, he sighed at the light touch, eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.

“That’s nice, babydoll,” he mumbled tiredly. “If only you could do that all day.”

“I will literally stay sat right here and play with your hair and whatever else all day, sir.”

“I know, and that’s the problem. I got too much to do.” He opened his eyes, looking blandly annoyed at the prospect of having to do anything else than sit under your spread thighs.

“You’re so popular,” you joked, grin dimpling up your cheeks.

“Yeah, that’s what it is. Nothing to do at all with this Jigsaw shit, or any of the other minor cases I gotta deal with.”

“Well, you are the boss,” you shrugged matter-of-factly, still combing his hair under your nails. “Lieutenant,” you added sweetly, emphasizing each syllable.

“Mmm, why’s that sound so good when you say it? But also, a little condescending.” He tilted his head, shooting you a sassy look.

You giggled. “You’re using some big words today, sir.”

“Gettin’ smart with me,” he tutted.

“If you don’t like it, I can just leave.” You began to stand up, unwrapping a leg from his lap. “I should go back to my desk and actually do my job. You know, check your calendar, make sure you don’t have any unwanted guests… All that stuff I don’t do that I get paid for.”

“You’re doing a plenty good job right here, darlin’.” Hoffman pulled you back down on his lap. His hands felt so big and thick embracing you like they did—bumbling and gentle, but strong enough to do damage if he tried.

“Ah yes, the exact job I applied for: babying you all day and telling you you’re doing such a good job.” You cupped a hand to his cheek, mocking the praise.

“As if you don’t love coming in here to play princess and fatten me up like a lazy house cat.” He rolled his eyes at you.

“I do. Does that make you a pet?”

“Yeah, for you, sweetheart. You know that.” He flashed his eyes at you under heavy lids, irritated that you would make him verbally confirm such a thing.

Heaving himself from the chair and moving you in the process (you noted the way his plush sides nearly stuck between the chair handles), he switched up positions: placing you in his seat, and he, himself, getting down on his knees in front of you.

“What’s this?” you laughed, more giddy than you wanted to let on.

“Said I’m the pet, right?” He leaned in and kissed your knee. “Dogs belong on the floor, don’t they?” That gave you a shiver. Every word came out like a sultry near-threat, daring you to challenge what his next move would be.

Another kiss to your knee. Then the other knee. Then your shin. Then the back of your calf. Then the tip of your shoe, and then the spiked heel… You watched the way his obscenely plump lips dragged against your nylons with each kiss. His eyes stayed glued to yours. You savored how good he looked casting that baby blue glare from beneath you.

“I think I’m hungry again,” he mumbled, parting your thighs and hooking his thick fingers into your underwear, sliding them away just enough to give him access.

“Whatta pig,” you giggled lowly.

“Don’t start with the pig shit, baby. We’ll be here all day and I only have half an hour.” His words tapered off at the end, becoming muffled as he buried his face between your legs, lapping his tongue into you like he was starving.

His tongue traced around your clit, delicately at first, then turning into more zealous pressing and sucking, giving you just the right amount of heat and friction. You could feel the way he salivated against you, too careless and needy to notice.

As his tongue slipped lower, prodding at your entrance, Hoffman’s prominent nose started pushing against your clit—an immediate yet super specific turn on. You pushed your pelvis forward to grind against his nose a little more intently, until he pulled away.

“Like that?” he smiled, a trace of deviousness across his slick lips. “Next time you can ride my face, how about that?”

“I’d love that, sir.”

“Right on this desk,” he hummed, bringing his mouth back to your pussy, practically suctioning on. He released for a quick breath. “Maybe on your desk. Let those rookies in the hallway watch.”

“You’re such a pervert,” you breathed out, started to get a little closer to the edge too soon. Your vision was going hazy in the best way.

With a few more painstakingly drawn-out laps from entrance to clit, applying an increasing amount of hot pressure, you felt that jolt right to your core. Instinctively, your pelvis bucked up against him, smothering his face. You couldn’t help squeezing your thighs tight, riding out every last bit of the delicious climax.

Dark hair mussed across his forehead cartoonishly, Hoffman finally pulled away to catch his breath. He licked off a bit of your slick from his lower lip with a small grin.

“Ooo, big boys like you know how to eat, huh?” you mused.

Hoffman sweetly pinched your chin between his fingers as he got to his feet. “Of course, babydoll. Mind helping me get ready for this press bullshit?”

“Only if you don’t make a mess of yourself again,” you winked.

[kurtsvonneslut]

Wheres the hot ex boss story

AH thank you for the reminder. long post incoming:

so, when i was 20, i got my very first dentistry job as a front desk receptionist. i worked very closely one-on-one with my boss (we’re going to refer to her as carol, no that is not her real name). at the time i was hired, she was 40 and had a husband and two teenagers. but god she was so hot and i was so whipped IMMEDIATELY.

it started literally on my first day in the office. i had a month of offsite training, so for my first official day in the practice, carol got me a beautiful potted plant to welcome me.

shortly after that was the midterm election (this was 2018), and i voted but didn’t get a sticker. carol overheard me complaining about this to a coworker and came out of her office to give me her sticker. that’s probably when i fell fully.

she was very physical with me, touched my shoulder a lot, and when she needed to show me something on the computer she would wrap her arm around the back of my chair and lean over so she was just inches away from my face. she did not do this with anyone else in the office, just me.

we had a pretty solid flirtationship for a while, definitely a two way street. i remember she would always tell me how pretty i was, and how much she enjoyed my company. a couple of our conversations:

as time went on, the flirting got more and more blatant. more banter, more touching, etc. if we were on a network television show, our writers would be called out for queerbaiting. there would be thousands of works under our ship on ao3.

ya know how when you make a gay joke to straight people they’ll get uncomfortable, like they don’t know if they’re allowed to laugh? one time we were hanging something on the wall and she asked me “is this straight?” and i said “you’re asking the wrong person” and instead of getting uncomfortable, she giggled, put her hand on my arm, and said “you are so funny”.

another time, i did her whole astrology chart (i was really into astrology at the time) after guessing that she was a virgo, and it turned out she had double virgo placements in her big three. she looked so in awe and said “you are amazing, you know?”.

still another time, i was showing her my wrist tattoo that i had just gotten done, and she told me she had a tattoo of an elephant on her hip. i decided to be bold and i said, “wow id love to see it sometime” and she said “maybe you will”.

i think the moment that makes me most insane is that one of the many times she was complaining about how shitty her husband was, she exasperatedly said “i just need a wife”. i said “carol, i’m right here, just say the word”. and she giggled. and winked at me.

i am fully convinced that if the universe hadn’t intervened, that something would have happened between us eventually. but instead, her mom passed suddenly and she ended up having to leave town for about four months to manage that. when she came back, she gave me a super tight, super long hug the second she walked in the door, then immediately put in her two weeks notice.

on her last day she gave me another really long and tender hug and said she would miss me most of the whole team. and that’s the last i ever saw her.

i considered asking her to drinks a few times, but i never did because at the end of the day, she was married and there were kids involved in the marriage. i’m a lot of things but a homewrecker isn’t one of them. but i still think about the whole thing and wonder what might have happened if the timing had been better, if she had been bold enough to leave her marriage, if if if. i think everyone has the one that got away, and carol is mine

[staycalmandhugaclone]

I saw one of your story posts mentioning you might take writing requests for trauma comfort... I've been struggling to write this story myself, and I'm looking for a particular flavor of comfort story.

Everyone seems to always latch on to how Hunter is so perceptive and notices things... but there's things he doesn't notice, even with all his sensitive senses. Particularly when there's not an actual immediate danger with a straightforward solution of "shoot it dead" or "talk to it"

Would you be willing to write something where Crosshair is the one to observe, first notice, and recognize tbe fact their new female member of the team, despite being a very active useful member, is tip-toeing around under the weight of past traumas? Then goes out of his way to take care of someone just as stubborn as he is.

I used to live with abusive housemates. While they weren't physically abusive, they were very creative in every other way of hurting their resident empath and later, attacking my whole family. It took me months after we finally kicked them out, for me to realize that i was literally tip-toeing in my own house afraid to make any noise and break tbe quiet, because i used to get badly berated for even small things like rolling in my office chair to my secobd desk while i did filing and paperwork. I didn't sing or play music for a long time, and i still find myself struggling to talk to people.

I like the idea that Crosshair would be the first to recognize long term behavioral patterns while Hunter is very fast in the uptake with someone who's state has changed in the moment.

You're under no obligation to settle this, of course, so please don't feel pressured! I just love the detailed and thoughtful, realistic way you handle writing about things like this.

My sweet darling, I am so sorry it's taken me so long to finish this. Your request became incredibly personal to me, and I both found myself inspired and struggling with how to respond! I'm honored you came to me with this request - I know how hard it is to admit to being hurt like that. Please be kind to yourself as you heal and know that I'm always happy to offer whatever support I can!

Sharp Eyes, Gentle Hands

Warnings: reference to past emotional abuse, fantasy profanity

WC: 2,253

The silence following the gentle hum of the ramp closing left me sinking beneath a deep sigh of relief. Wrecker had sought me out to say goodbye, and I’d peaked from the little kitchenette of the Marauder in time to wave to Hunter and Echo, but Tech and Crosshair were already out of sight. Still, I found myself treading lightly about the ship as I restocked supplies, updated the inventory manifest, and addressed minor maintenance needs that didn’t warrant Tech’s expertise.

This was the beginning of my second three-month tour with Clone Force 99. I’d been assigned to them as something of a secretary in the hopes of improving their less than ideal track record of finishing their paperwork, but had gradually taken on additional small tasks as time passed. While skeptical at first, the boys seemed to have begun warming to my presence, and I was too eager to maintain that trend, even if I was still only trusted to guard the ship during actual missions.

At present, that extra task consisted of reattaching a cabinet door in the storage room that Wrecker had been a bit too forceful with. After muscling it back into its original shape – mostly – all that was left was to screw it back in. I was so caught up in my work, I barely noticed the hum resonate through my chest, nor the moment that tone gradually gave way to murmured words until, just as I stepped back to appreciate my work, I found myself shamelessly singing aloud.

Satisfied, I gathered the tools and headed into the cockpit to return them. It wasn’t until the shouted gasp tore from my throat, body shying back so violently that I nearly slammed into the wall that I even noticed him. Crosshair wordless lifted an eyebrow at my reaction before returning his attention to the helmet in his hands, fingers skillfully toying with the internal gages as though nothing had happened.

“Um, sorry I-I didn’t realize you were still here.” The apology clawed stiffly up my throat, fire burning across my face. He didn’t bother looking at me as he merely responded with a disinterested grunt. Teeth gnawing against the inside of my lips as I vainly willed my heart to ease its panicked pace, I rushed to quietly place the tools back in Tech’s storage, shoulders tucking firmly about my chest.

“Why do you do that?” The words slipped from his lips almost as though he was talking to himself instead of me, but I balked at the silence that followed, fingers shifting nervously at my sides.

“Wh… do what?” The beginnings of an apology sat like poison atop my tongue, demanding to be voiced in the futile hope that it might defuse whatever confrontation was to come.

“If you’re that scared of us, why did you stay?” His arms crossed his chest, confusion just breaching the innate impatience in those sharp eyes.

“I-I’m not… um, I’m sorry you thought that, but I promise I’m not-” My words died the instant he stood from the chair, helmet laid forgotten atop the seat. My gaze instantly darted to the worn metal beneath us as that too-familiar dread locked around my chest, breaths carefully shallow, silent, lest even that somehow worsen whatever offence I’d already made. But he said nothing in the long seconds that followed, and, hesitantly, I stole a timid glance at him. His brow was cocked, but, still, he made no effort to lash out or reprimand me, merely waited for me to finally grasp his point, and my heart dropped.

“No - I’m sorry; it’s not…” The flurry of excuses tangled over my lips, the beginnings of a tremble just beginning to creep over me. “I’m not… I’m not afraid of you, I’m just… trying to stay out of the way.” I assured him, but he merely rolled his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, those frightfully intense eyes burring into me.

“You practically flatten yourself against the wall when we walk too close to you. You stopped eating the yellow ration bars after Wrecker mentioned they’re Hunter’s favorite, even though they’re your favorite, too. I don’t think you’ve ever instigated a single conversation unless it was to update a report, and even then you act like…” His teeth ground together, words suddenly falling silent. I’d felt myself sinking beneath every wretched observation, shoulders bunching around me, expression carefully blank; waiting.

“Look, I’m not…” When I risked another fleeting look up to him, I was shocked to see his glare turned pointedly away from me, jaw shifting stiffly around unspoken words. “You don’t need to… hide every time we’re in the same room.” The discomfort in the softness he was trying to force into his voice was obvious, but the simple fact that he was making an attempt left me speechless.

“Kriff, I don’t even know what I said that made you so damn timid.” A touch of that impatience returned, fingers snatching the toothpick from his lips, but I knew it wasn’t directed at me, and that made the guilt stirring in my chest all the more prominent.

“It… it wasn’t…” My hands drew together in front of me, thumb absently picking at my nails. “My-my last crew was… pretty strict with me.” I barely breathed the excuse, unable to risk meeting his eyes. “I just… I didn’t want to cause trouble here, too.” He leaned absently against the back of the co-pilot chair, watching me with a silence that left my skin crawling.

“You realize we share living space with Wrecker?” The skepticism in his blank statement wrenched a burst of laughter from me before I could rein it back, teeth clicking together even as my lips still pulled up into a small smile. For the briefest moment, something like relief seemed to flash through his eyes, and a sliver of that tension slipped from my shoulders.

“We’re not regs.” He continued dismissively. “Whatever osik they pulled with you isn’t how we operate here.”

“It wasn’t regs.” I felt myself tense for some reprimand in the face of my quiet correction, but he didn’t move, gaze watching me silently; waiting. “I was assigned to a mercenary battalion before this.” His head tilted back slightly, eyes narrowing. “That’s part of the reason I ended up here: I requested an assignment with a clone squad, but the regs don’t usually work with freelancers, so…” I motioned subtly toward him, shoulders drawing tight into my chest.

Crosshair was silent for a long moment, expression painfully unchanged. My mind raced for some way to anticipate what he was thinking – was he annoyed to learn the reason I’d ended up with them? Was he enraged that I feared the same treatment from his brothers that I’d received from the mercs? Was he completely indifferent?

Movements unrushed, void of the impatience I’d expected, he retrieved his helmet and started toward the ladder.

“Gonna do a patrol.” He explained, slipping on the bucket. “I’ll let you know when I’m back.” I couldn’t begin to fight the shock from my eyes, the silent gasp from my lips, immediately aware of his unspoken offer: he was giving me space; allowing me a moment to collect myself in the comfort of isolation… and I didn’t have to fret over not realizing when he returned…

“You should sing more often – Echo and Wrecker like that sort of thing.” Again, I found myself utterly frozen, jaw shifting uselessly around words I couldn’t begin to form, but he didn’t wait for a response. With a few swift movements, he was gone.

-

Things changed after that. Not with any grand or outwardly notable gestures, but it seemed to shift the very dynamic of the squad in the most subtle ways. It started with caf.

It was hardly unusual for the sniper to be the last to force himself into the kitchenette to join us, jaw ground against the early morning grogginess. I was just finishing the breakfast scramble as he trudged to the caf machine. Without a word, he set a steaming cup on the counter beside me before taking a seat with his brothers. I stared blankly at it for a moment, only then realizing that I’d fallen into the habit of waiting for the others to get their own cups before getting some for myself. When I stole a brief glance toward him, he showed no indication that he’d done anything abnormal, head tilted back against his chair with his eyes closed as though he might steal even a few seconds’ more sleep.

Then it was the arguing. Echo and Tech’s banter rarely escalated, but when it did, neither were innocent of resorting to shouting on occasion. I couldn’t remember what had prompted the latest disagreement, but their voices boomed throughout the entirety of the Marauder until even Hunter stepped in in a futile attempt to silence them. I’d made the mistake of treading into the cockpit just as things between them began to grow heated intending to merely return Echo’s power calibrator and quickly found myself frozen in the corner, waiting for a safe moment that wasn’t soon to come.

Long after the Sergeant had joined the fray, succeeding only in adding to the chaotic flurry of raised voices, Crosshair stormed down the ladder, brows pinched and lips wrenched into a scowl, but then he saw me, sharp eyes instantly noting the tool clutched in my grasp. Ignoring his brothers, he merely held his hand out to me, motioning for the device. I tried not to let him see the slight tremor in my limbs as I hesitantly placed it in his waiting palm. Saying nothing, he merely nodded toward the ladder. I was halfway through the porthole when I heard the loud thud followed by a shocked cry of pain, and, in the next breath: silence.

That was the last time any of them got into a shouting fit like that around me. Twice, just as tensions were beginning to rise, Hunter went so far as to conveniently find a reason to summon me. It didn’t take long to realize he’d caught on and was too willing to use my presence as an indirect means of quelling tempers. The second time, he shot me a knowing wink, and I found myself biting my lips against the fit of quiet laughter.

When we found a rare moment of calm, Crosshair pressed things a bit further. A fire crackled in the stillness. We didn’t have to return to Kamino for a few days, so we made camp beside a small lake, secluded in a forgiving wilderness. I barely noticed the lithe man lean toward Wrecker, lips shifting almost silently, but then his brother’s eyes shot open, excitement lighting his face.

“You can sing?!” My heart dropped, body instantly going stiff.

“…uh…” Caught, I could only stare at him in shock, gaze darting briefly to see the subtle smirk on the Sniper’s lips before the towering clone was talking once more, pleading.

“Will you sing somethin’?! We hardly ever get to hear music!” The refusal clawed at my throat, aghast at even the thought of denying the innocent delight in his request.

“Wrecker.” The warning in Hunter’s voice was enough to dampen the large man’s glee, and I found myself distraught to see his smile fade.

“M… maybe just one.” I agreed nervously, and the thrilled gasp it earned was nearly enough to ease the frantic racing of my heart. Echo and Tech glanced up curiously, and I had to pointedly ignore the feeling of everyone’s eyes watching me.

The first words left in something nearer to a whisper than a melody, but the hint of pride just threatening to shine in Crosshair’s gaze emboldened me in a way I would never have expected. By the second verse, I left the lyrics dance over my lips. My cheeks were still flushed, blood still pounding through my ears, but I couldn’t dismiss the simple joy as I took in the wonder in Wrecker’s face, Hunter’s quiet smile, Tech’s datapad lying forgotten beside him.

In the days that followed, I’d caught most of them occasionally humming the tune, and, more than once, found myself joining them with a shy grin.

That innate need to tuck into the wall as we passed each other slowly began to fade, but the next few times it happened with Crosshair, he wordlessly touched his hand to my arm and guided me upright. It was never a quick movement, the gentle pressure an invitation instead of an order, and each time, I found my heart racing long after he’d left.

After several weeks of those quiet moments, I intentionally bumped his shoulder with mine in a moment of frightful bravery. The look of pure shock in his suddenly wide eyes nearly sent me fleeing, certain I’d made a terrible mistake, but then his lips curled into grin, breath catching in a silent chuckle. His hand reached up to carefully ruffle my hair before he continued on his way.

It wasn’t perfect. I still found myself unable to find my voice unless someone else spoke first; felt that panicked dread if I set something down too loudly or made simple mistakes, but that fear faded quicker, my responses felt a little less meek as they drew me into quiet conversations more often. It wasn’t perfect, but the patience and kindness they offered allowed me to take those first steps toward making it better.

Click here or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Click here for my Masterlist.

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @ct-0113 @padawancat97 @eclec-tech @sol-oya-6116 @captaingregorswife @atomickidsoul @jennrosefx @echos-girlfriend @burningfieldof-clover @manofworm @merkitty49 @get-wr3ckered @dangraccoon @like-a-bantha @brokenphoenix99 @nekotaetae @starqueensthings @idoubleswearimawriter @abigfanofstarwars @chopper-base

[joyswonderland1108]

Ara Ara

I’m just popping in to “clear” a debate, as i said before it’s exhausting to write long posts but my hands itch to write something anytime i see stuff going on. One of the reasons why it’s always better to be in the “not sure” zone instead of completely denying something that one may not even have knowledge about. Let’s get started shall we? 

So Jimin, precious Mimi, beautiful Jimim, my beloved child (he’s older than me but shush) came live yesterday to share his emotions with us about his amazing achievement, his well deserved achievement, the slap on the face of haters who instead of working on making their favs rise to some level they decided to invest time and energy into trying to make other people win just to not only fail but let down their own favs 🤦🏻‍♀️ Well Jimin said “Fuck all your opps” anyways so

Now i don’t want to focus on the part where you can oh so very clearly hear a “ 빨리가“ at the very beginning (Surprisingly enough this girl actually understands some Korean don’t underestimate her) i wanna be realistic here, while i’ve seen some people wondering if they’ve heard a ppo-ppo sound i honestly don’t think so at all, i’m sticking with the the first one and the lights situation going on too but even that i’m not gonna focus too much on it, and for reference : 

Moving on to our main subject which is the gaming chair, or chairs in that case

And as my bestie said and i quote “It doesn’t mean anything yet Jimin grabbed the phone like a hot potato“ i mean chile why would he panic, it’s just a chair right? WRONG! 

Just to clarify, for people who may have thought that was JK’s chair from the studio, Jimin’s chair is an Arena and JK’s chair is an Akracing.. With an Arena cushion 👀

Well the point is no it’s not the chair from the studio but does that change the fact that Jimin has a second GAMING chair? No. Well, yes and no, lemme explain. 

“It’s just a second chair he could be having one for if friends come over” key word here: IF. You may or may not know that there’s this unspoken rule where, despite having a spare chair or even 10 spare chairs, they don’t go with the setup, they go to a storage room or the garage or wherever you can put it away and take it out when needed, because why tf would there be a second or third chair chilling out there when the possibility of having gamer friends coming over is always questionable. 

Speaking of gamer friends, have y’all seen a gamer in real life? they don’t even need to be in the same place everybody plays from home and they chat through their headsets. No matter how rich you are or how much you can afford expensive gaming chairs, a gaming set up is precious to its owner, one just doesn’t mess up with their set up, if you’re alone, you game alone, you put ONE chair. If you do happen to have a spare chair and a gamer friend decides to visit you THEN whip out the chair from where it was stored if you don’t have a spare one, the friend can literally sit anywhere, on the floor for all i know who tf cares. 

Now i’ll be sharing this link with y’all so you can check it out yourself, just not to say that i picked out what i wanted or what fit the narrative and left out the rest : 

See how gorgeous the set ups are? See how very expensive looking they are? (Well as a matter of fact they ARE expensive) See how neat they are? Notice something? Well actually you’ll notice two things :

1- Almost all of the setups have one chair like this one : 

And where you can’t see the chair are tinier desks that can so very obviously fit one chair 

2- The three setups that are designed for a “pair” are the following ones : 

“Side-by-Side Couple PC Setup“

“His and Hers Wall-Mounted PC Setup“

“Father-Son Star Wars Gaming Room”

Notice something in common there? Basically all the “pair” setups are meant for two or more people who game and are living under the same roof, a couple, siblings, or parents-kids. Mind you even if you do have a partner but they don’t game, your setup will NOT be a “pair” setup, as i said above, those are precious, they’re almost sacred lol there’s an aesthetic to them, there’s a whole architecture going on there, so we’re not messing that up by adding a random second chair for a friend or friends who are barely there. 

Do whatever the fuck you want with this information, but i hope that with this added “knowledge” people would stop with their “that’s not a big deal” bullshit, i see you, that one person who posted that lame ass excuse on Twitter. With that being said.. STREAM FACE!!! 

[ew-headyhearts]

can u do cute head canons of what edd would do with his S/O? It could literally be anything like cuddles, drawings, kisses etc :3

heheh- my beloved! <3

I might have gone a little overboard but meh- read more under the cut!

Edd is definitely they type of partner to draw on his S/O. The guy just really likes tender moments. All huddled up close to his partner while they mindlessly scroll through their phone. Meanwhile, Edd has their wrist and is just covering them in little doodles.

His favorite thing to do for his partner is draw for them. Of course, it's not often he finds the time to since he does do commissions for a living but sometimes, he makes an exception. He loves drawing the two of them together. Though, if you're into a particular series, he most definitely will draw you something from it. Even if he knows nothing about it, he will spend hours studying your favorite characters to try and piece together a masterpiece. It's so sweet when he finally shows you what he's been working on! Edd looks so proud of himself and goes into intricate detail about all of the hidden references and details he includes.

His favorite cuddling position? Well, he loves sitting on the couch with his partner with them between his legs. His chest would be against their back as they lean into him. He's big guy so he's actually really comfortable to snuggle with.

The first time you share a bed together is pretty much the starting point of you moving in together. He physically would be unable to sleep without his partner after the first time. If you work late at night? Don't be surprised to find a tired Edd at his desk working on some commissions when you come home.

His hands get so cold sometimes. It's not even funny. Plus, they get stiff after working for hours on end. If you're not careful he will sneak up on you and ruthlessly press his cold fingers to the back of your neck. It's impossible to get mad at him though, because Edd will pout and whine about how achy his hands are.

Cuddle him while he works on commissions! Do it! He loves physical contact and will happily let you sit in his lap while he works. Edd bought a larger desk chair for this purpose now go snuggle the man. He doesn't care how long you want to sit there or if you fall asleep against his chest, he will happily endure the inevitable pin-and-needles later on if it means his S/O is comfortable.

[illfoandillfie]

“I’d keep quiet unless you want to get caught” with Jack if you please 🤭. Happy Birthday my Brigid 💜

ahhh ty my Lauren 💙

Gotta admit I struggled with this one a bit and ended up rewriting it entirely but I think I'm happy with it now! Apparently I am only capable of writing properly late at night tho so please excuse any mistakes, ya girl is sleeby. This is also the first time I've written Jack so hopefully I got his voice right...

warnings: P in V sex, secret relationship, hotel sex, but also work sex i guess, hand over mouth to muffle sound, fingering, references to oral (f receiving), ummmm spy shenanigans, jack do be flirty and a bit dom

“And here I was thinkin' a mission in a hotel could double as a romantic getaway.” Jack sat down in the chair behind your desk.   You didn’t mind, you were too nervous to sit, preferring to pace about in front of the desk, “You’ll have to be on your best behaviour.” A chuckle from Jack made you stop and look at him, “I’m serious Jack. Don’t you think it’s weird Agent Drambuie would be assigned to this case with us? I mean it sounded like a pretty simple intelligence mission, we’d be perfectly capable of doing it without a third.” When Jack still didn’t seem to be grasping what you were getting at you added, “What if they suspect we’re together?”  “Oh come on, sugar, I don’t think they’d care that much.”  “Jack you literally have letters, plural, warning you that fraternizing with other agents could land you in a permanent desk job.”  He waved his hand dismissively, “That was just about me flirtin’ with new recruits. Nothing to do with datin'.”   You weren’t convinced and Jack must have been able to tell because he stood up and moved around the desk to you. He grabbed your hands, his thumbs rubbing over your knuckles, "You don’t have to worry darlin’. I understand why we’re keepin' this secret.” His tone became more playful as he said, “You turned me down so many times it must be hard for you to admit you like me.”   You rolled your eyes but unfortunately Jack was very good at disarming you.   “And of course we don’t want management gettin' the wrong idea and takin' us out of fieldwork.”  “Exactly! Which is why you need to behave. That means no first names, no innuendos about being in a hotel room with me. In fact, no flirting at all.”  Jack looked aghast and dropped your hands, “C’mon darlin’ be serious. If I stopped flirtin’ with you Drambuie is gonna get mighty suspicious don’t you think? Especially with you in one of theose cute maid outfits and all. How could I possibly not comment?”  “Housekeeping uniforms are nowhere near what you’re imagining. But I take your point. Flirting is allowed. But nothing that might get us caught. If we do decide to go public I want it to be on our terms.”  “Of course sugar. I mean Agent.”  You leant up to give him a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth and then rubbed away the lipstick mark.  

The next day you made your way to the hotel. Agents Drambuie and Whiskey were already there and had been for several hours, each booked into a separate room. Luckily the pair you were trying to spy on didn’t seem to suspect they’d been targeted. They’d used their real names and credit cards while booking their rooms, so you’d been handed files on both of them as you were handed the assignment and you knew exactly when they were due. Jack had headed to the hotel the previous night, just in case your targets were smarter than they seemed and would turn up early but he’d reported nothing. Drambuie had spent the morning in the café across the street, under cover as a business man powering through a presentation and staying fueled with coffee. He’d really been watching for the pair to turn up so he could follow them into the hotel and claim his own room. You were coming in last, dressed in a housekeeping uniform and entering via the staff entrance. Acting as if you belonged there you found one of the housekeeping carts and took it up to the right floor. Drambuie had confirmed the room number of the suspects and Jack had confirmed that, after leaving their bags upstairs, they’d headed down to the hotel’s restaurant. He was still their watching them. Which you knew because he was using the coms channel continuously.  “I’m very excited to see this uniform of yours sweetheart,” he drawled through your earpiece.  You let out an annoyed huff, silently swearing to get back at him just as soon as you could.  “Although,” he continued when he realised you weren’t responding, “I think my cover would be much better if you were in here with me. A man drinkin' on his own is much more noticeable than one buying for a pretty girl.”  “Keep dreaming, Agent,” you said into your mic, emphasising the title, “I wouldn’t accept a drink from you anyway.”  You heard Drambuie chuckle and prayed Jack had the sense not to take the flirting too far while you were being listened to.   “Careful sweetheart, keep turnin’ me down like this and I’ll have to send a drink to the woman at the bar instead.”  You scowled at the thought but said, “You do that. Just be quiet about it so I can focus on my job.”  Jack did quiet down after that, for the most part anyway, which you were pleased about. You were close to the room and didn’t want any distractions while you bugged the place.  

It only took a few minutes. You let yourself in, stuck the tech in corners and under benches and behind the TV. You even put one in the toilet cistern. And then you were gone, collecting your trolly of cleaning products and wheeling it off to the floor above. Drambuie let you into his room and you wheeled the trolly in to hide it so you’d have easy access when it came time to collect the bugs and leave.   “How’d it go?” he asked, helping you manoeuvre the trolly.   “Good, they’re all hidden and on.”  “Excellent.” Drambuie pulled out his laptop and began running a diagnostics but before he’d finished there was a knock at the door. You were still in uniform and couldn’t be seen in case it was actual hotel staff, so Drambuie opened the door, but it was only Jack.   “They’re still downstairs, probably will be for a while, but I couldn’t resist this party.” Catching sight of you he let out a whistle, “sweetheart you look good dressed like that.”  “Stop calling me sweetheart.”  His only response was a wink and you sighed, settling in for a long wait.   Fortunately, Jack’s behaviour wasn’t just getting to you. After he’d made sure the tech was running smoothly and after you’d had to come up with retorts to three more of Jack’s comments, Drambuie stood up and moved towards the door.   “As fun as listening to you two bicker is, I think it’s my turn to hit the bar. Anyone want to come with?”  “Thanks but I’ve got to change and all. Feel like I need a shower after this moron’s,” you jabbed your thumb at Jack, “attention,”   “Well if she’s gonna be busy I guess I should stay and keep an eye on the screen in case anythin' happens. Let me know if the blonde is still sitting on her own down there.”  Drambuie laughed as he left and Jack followed him to the door, peering out of the peephole.   “About fuckin' time,” he half muttered, striding back across the room. “What?” was all you managed to get out before he tugged you into him, his lips insistent against yours.  

“Woah, hey, what are you doing?” you asked as soon as he’d loosened his grip, a little breathless from the kiss.  “Despite what you said, you do look very sexy in that uniform. Been takin' all my willpower not to pull you onto my lap.”  You glanced down at the shapeless, starchy dress and then shook your head, before Jack could distract you any further, “What about Drambuie? What if he’s in the next room spying on us?”  “Sugar, you’re soundin’ a little paranoid there. I watched him go to the elevator.”  “But what if-” you gasped as you felt Jack’s fingers stroking along the front of your underpants. You’d not even realised his hand was under your dress and then suddenly he was teasing you through your panties, pulling a small whine from your throat as he rubbed at your clit.  “But isn’t it,” he kissed your throat just under your jaw, “kinda hot,” another kiss, “to do this in secret,” another kiss, “on a mission.” He marked the end of the sentence by nipping at your pulse point.  It was impossible to disagree. His fingers felt too good on your pussy and his lips too good on your throat. His voice was gruff with desire and every breath you took made your head swim with his scent. It was intoxicating, especially after all the work he’d put into flirting, even trying to make you jealous.   “God Jack, fuck me,”  He chuckled, “Anyway you want darlin’. But I’d keep quiet, just in case. Unless you want to be caught?”  You shakily managed to say you didn’t, trying to reach for Jack’s belt though he stopped you.  “Well can you keep quiet then?”  “Yeah.” Your agreement was undermined by the way you whimpered as Jack pushed the fabric of your panties aside and stroked your wet slit.  “Sugar, I’m not sure you can manage it. Maybe I should be on top to keep you in line.”  You nodded again, letting him manoeuvre you to the bed. He quickly removed your underwear, smiling as he pushed your legs open and caught his first glimpse of your cunt.   “Stay there,” he ordered as he undid his belt and got his cock out.   You squirmed as you watched him push his pants down just far enough, revealing first the dark curls around the base and then the full length of it.   But your eagerness was nothing to Jack’s. The uniform he’d so professed to love became an inconvenience as the skirt slipped and blocked his view, and Jack growled as he pushed the material up again.  

With one hand, Jack reached forward and covered your mouth, an act that was hot on it’s own but especially so with his other hand touching your pussy. He slid his fingers along your slit, spreading your wetness around. Circling your clit and then sliding down to play with your entrance, slipping inside a little but never far enough. And then he’d draw them away, following the line of your body down further, towards your asshole, stopping well before he reached it and slipping back the other way to torment you further. You whined with each teasing stroke, his palm keeping you muffled.   “Shame I can’t eat you out and keep you quiet at the same time. You’ll have to help me out darlin’.”  You expected him to uncover your mouth, maybe replace his hand with your panties or something similar. Instead, his palm stayed firm over your lips. It was your hand that moved as he pulled it down to your cunt, directing you to touch yourself. At first he guided you but soon enough he’d let go to relieve his own need a little, stroking himself slowly as he watched on. You traced a similar path to the one jack had made but quickly decided you needed more. Spreading yourself open with one hand, you began to finger yourself with the other, eyes glued on Jack to catch his reaction. He was as affected as you’d hoped, fighting to control his own self-pleasuring touch, his other hand tightening against your face. It soon grew to be more than he could stand and he yanked your wet fingers up to his lips, indulging himself with your taste.   “Fuck, sugar. I should gag you and have a proper feast.” He smirked at your groan, “But maybe I’ll save that for when we get home and I can tie you to my bed. Really take my time. For now I’ll let you have my cock.”  You whimpered the word please into his palm, unsure which scenario you were begging for, just desperate for something. But Jack took it as enthusiasm for his dick, notching himself at your hole and sinking into you as he pressed his lips to your chest.   You raised your hips and spread your legs as wide as was comfortable, trying to accommodate his length as he slowly worked into you. And you kept up a slew of whines and moans and other delicious sounds that Jack reluctantly kept muffled, trying to urge him to move, to go faster.  

Jack however was very conscious of just how loud you both could be. Not just your vocalisations or his, but also the sounds of skin slapping against skin as he fucked you, any creaks the bed might make, even just heavy breathing. As much as he didn’t believe Drambuie was there to spy on you, he still didn’t want you to get caught. So he held back, ignoring your attempts to beg for more without actually being able to beg. Instead of pulling almost all the way out of your cunt and driving forward hard like he wanted to do, he used more sedate thrusts but kept his cock buried deep within you, continuously rubbing against one or two very nice spots. Your attempts to make him switch his pace came to an abrupt stop and you threw your head back, arching up into his chest as you felt the full pleasure of his repetitive grinding.   “That’s my girl,” he groaned, realising he’d found the perfect angle, “gonna make you feel so good darlin’.” He made sure he didn’t lose the momentum too much, even if his hips jolted out of time because you’d tightened around his cock. Not even when he told you to rub your clit for him and had accidentally moaned himself when your fingers brushed against his base. Thankfully he’d been able to smother his moan with your lips, uncovering your mouth long enough to give you an equally deep kiss until he needed to pull away for air. He’d recovered your mouth with his hand though, feeling you clenching around him more frequently and wanting to see you cum as well as feel it.   You gasped and panted as your orgasm neared, finishing with a stifled cry of Jack’s name.   He followed you over the edge quickly, burying his face in the crook of your neck to try and suppress his own sounds of pleasure as he spilled himself between your legs.  

For a moment you both forgot where you were. You wrapped your arms around Jack as he kissed you again, trying to dull the ache as he pulled his cock from you. But even after that you were both reluctant to stop. His hand found your breast and you somehow managed to get his thigh between your legs as you rolled over, rocking your hips against it. You might even have kept going, humping him into a second found, but the sound of a door shutting heavily across the hall broke through the sense of solitude and you realised what position you were in.   “See,” he said, his cockiness dulled a little by how fucked out he looked, “I said it’d be fun.”  “Mmhmm, it was,” you agreed, happy to concede that point to him, “But you should clean up and then meet Drambuie downstairs. Double check he’s still there. I’ll stay and watch the computer.”  Jack sighed, “Alright sugar. Sorry, Agent. If it’ll make you less paranoid, I’ll check.”  “Thank you, baby.” You smiled, stealing a final kiss before you kicked Jack out of the bed, “If it turns out he’s not spying on us I’ll let you shower with me before we leave.” 

[thefuseoftemptation]

let's get some bully eddie! I've requested before from you and this is something I've been seeing a lot of and I'd like to see how you'd put him. I never thought I'd be into bully eddie but...I am so I'm requesting it if you're taking them

Huh, let’s see…. thnks for your request

THEN & OVER

EDDIE MUNSON X GN!READER

WARNING(S): cussing, bully!eddie (ish) he’s not so much of a bully as he is just unsupportable. literally. it is just a request guys, it’s not how he is. NOT PROOFREAD.

—

Eddie wasn’t the type.

He wasn’t a bully.

At least not to those who knew him.

But to you, Eddie Munson was nothing short of it. Somewhat. It’s not that he was a bully, it’s just that, it was the easiest thing to put him under since that’s all you known him as ever since you got there.

Guess too that you not being someone who took shit from others made it all the more easy for you to label him. Or you were just being biased.

You knew nothing about him.

Other than knowing that he was a real headache of yours.

You’ve seen how he was with others students, specifically and only referring to the ones he talks to— his table.

The guys or members of his so called club.

You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Why is it that this guy, someone you didn’t even know, much less- speak a word to- make you want to put your head through the door.

You didn’t even know each other! Only through the times he's had to make himself known to you.

Yet, during them, he made it an overall must to let you know how much of a shit he was.

—

“Spst.”

You went on as if you couldn’t hear it.

“Spst.” Though with the way you held onto the desk and the overall look on your face- said otherwise. Your eyes shutting upon the contact made to the legs of your chair from behind.

There was only one person. The only person who sat to the back and just had to choose the seat by you.

The nudges to your desk stopped shortly after. And you should’ve known something would’ve come given it was Eddie.

But when an arm came from behind at your side, just over your shoulder, and pulled the sheet from you— you couldn’t keep it in any more.

“Hey!”

Turning so you weren’t facing forward, but you also weren’t fully facing to the back- to him. You were centered so your legs were out from under the desk and stretched in front of you.

Your little raise of voice earned a few shh's from the room. Though they were the least of it.

Eddie looked at you with feigned uncertainty, clearly not seeing or giving a shit about how you were eyeing him.

But to be honest, he liked it. He liked when you looked at him or when you just simply gave him your attention. Even if it wasn’t the type one would usually seek.

Eddie took a liking to you.

It was just a little thing when he first saw you, something he couldn’t understand, but then it sort just grew the more he was around you. Honestly, he never knew how or why he began going up you. It just…happened.

It was sort of like that stereotype and saying of when the person went at you like that, it's because they had a thing for you. Even if it was overly suggested.

It was just some shit telling others made up. And it was the only way now that could get you to give him the time of day.

His brow lifted up as he stared back at you, waiting for you to tell him something. But you just held your hand out with your eyes fixated on him.

Eddie raised the sheet up, thumbing to it as if to ask ‘this?’ And when you sighed, he knew he was just pushing it.

“Why're you like this, huh?” You query, getting to your feet.

Eddie’s head tilted to the side, his mouth curling up at your question, as he brought the paper back down and shrugged. Your eyes just narrowed at him.

How could someone not know how or why they were being a certain way with someone? Was he being for real or was he just putting up a front only to get you to fall further than you were?

It wasn't thought over really- your arms just suddenly extended out, hands pressing to his chest as you literally pushed him off the seat. The noise of him falling, feet hitting the desk as he went, and the too common name of the guy who was hung on the cross released from his mouth, caused the whole room to turn your way.

You weren't even moved by any of it. Nor by the sound of your name that told you you were caught. It's not like you were trying to be subtle.

Though when Eddie just stared up at you with a look that said "the fuck?" Is when your face fell. Your eyes set on him briefly, before you turned and left.

The door shutting as you stepped down the stairs of the school and out the front doors. Not knowing that Eddie was short a few steps behind you, uttering words under his breath because of how quick you were moving.

You weren't really sure why you pushed him. Well, now you were just lying to yourself. You knew and to be honest, you could've done more than just push him. You should've done more.

You could hear Eddie calling your name but it hadn't stopped you from going, still set on getting far from there and far from him.

"Could you just- wait." Eddie breathed, finally catching up. Though that was until he fell right into your back when you suddenly stopped, turning to him with a straight face.

"What. What is it? Why're here, huh?" Your voice raised with every word that left your tongue, the latter question coming out at a volume that had Eddie taking a step back with his hands up in a way of surrender.

"M'just- I just came to see how you were? If- If you were okay?" He looked almost unsure of it. Really, it was him being unsure of you. I mean, you did just shove him off his seat and onto the floor without even looking sorry. And you did it so easily.

"If I'm okay?" You repeated, pressing into it with lip. Your head imitated his earlier movement where he tilted it as his lips stretched up in a curl. Though where his had been more self-satisfying, yours was more in a manner that would have one asking themselves if you were off....

"Let's see." You bring your finger to your mouth, tapping it against your lip as if you were thinking about it. "Uh no." You say, your arms gesticulating.

"We don't know the other. I know nothing about you, and you, know nothing about me. Yet, here you are every single fuckin day, being a little shit to me. And who knows, maybe that's your fucked up way of trying to get a rise out of me or maybe you're just pulling my leg- and if I'd known you, I would've just thought nothing of it other than you being you- but that's the thing, I don't know you! I've never even spoken to you, not referring to now. But still! And who knows, maybe I'm taking it too literally or maybe I just have a stick so far up my ass that you'll have to pull out- and by all means try it. But where I'm from, I wasn't brought up to put up with shit. If something's not how it should be- in this case- you bullying me, then i'm not just going to stand there off to the side and let it happen. So, just- fuck off."

You sigh, your shoulders loosening as you finally let out what you've been meaning to say for weeks.

Eddie stood there, not really knowing what to say. He was still trying to take your words in and something that really stuck out was how you said he was bullying you.

Had he? Been bullying you?

He never thought of him being like that. He wasn't the type but then again, he'd been going at it with you for a while and he was beginning to lose sight of the line. Which he seemed to have clearly crossed. Hence you telling him off.

Eddie had been standing there thinking it all over that he hadn't seen you leave. Shit.

You were halfway through the lot when you heard him pull up next to you, not even phased that he didn’t turn off the vehicle or that he left the door open, as he approached you with small steps.

“I-I swear, I wasn’t trying to bully you. That wasn’t my intention. I didn’t even think I was doing it….” He spoke, his voice trailing off on the latter sentence.

“The shit you mean you didn’t know? What do you think bullying is?” You say, reversing on him.

“I know what it is. That’s all I’ve known through and through. And I never meant to be one of them to you.” Eddie kept rubbing his hands together, trying to keep them to himself. “I just thought that what I was doing to you was nothing short of being- I don’t know.” Eddie was trying to put it to you in a way you’d understand. But when you’re trying to explain to the person that you like why you were being like that, especially with the pressure of them looking at you like they could end you then and there, it has you stuttering over yourself.

“You telling me you nudging me in the lot the other day wasn’t bullying?” You test.

“What? No, it was just-”

“You telling me that you taking my stuff and holding it over your head, or behind you, wasn’t bullying?”

“It wasn’t like that-”

“You telling me that pushing my seat, always shutting my locker when I just opened it, getting my papers and taking them for yourself, or always calling me names isn’t bullying?” You ask.

“Hold up. Those name calls were nothing but me pointing out features of yours! And they were supposed to be like nicknames, y’know? Not name calls. I heard that’s what you should say to someone you—" Eddie shook his head. He wasn’t about to tell you what had been scratching at his mind for a while. It’d just make matters shittier than they were.

“At least that’s what I was told….” Eddie whispered, then muttered something under his breath subsequently to his previous sentence. You weren’t even sure he heard what he just said or why he was still trying to excuse these last few weeks, whatever the thought behind it was.

And it wasn’t until you spoke that he began to catch up.

Eddie gulped.

“First of all, those weren’t nicknames, they were name calls. We don’t know the other so why would it be okay to refer to me as that. Not only that but it’s not what you said, it’s how you said it. Those ‘features’ you pointed out….had you ever stopped to think that maybe they were things that I didn’t like about myself?” You fix, letting him know.

You got him there. Eddie hadn’t thought about it.

“No…”

Your lips pursed as you looked at him.

“I get what you were trying to do, but it still doesn’t explain why you did it. Who does that to someone, huh? Whoever told you that shit or wherever you heard it from— bullying someone is not it. No matter how light or how little the attempts were, it’s still bullying.”

“M’sorry. I really am. I just, I didn’t know how else to get you to give me the time of day!”

“You should just stop talking because you’re not doing anything but putting yourself further and further.”

You guys just stood there in the school lot, uncertain of where to go from there.

“Look, why don’t we just leave it at that and go our ways? I’ve got to go and you’ve got to get back in there.” You gesture to the doors that you guys came out through.

“Well, we both have to get back-” Eddie stopped what he was saying when he saw the face you gave him. “Never mind.” You turned to walk away when he voiced himself again.

“W-Wait,” Eddie had his hand at the back of his neck, rubbing the base as he shuffled in spot. “So— where are we?”

You stared at him blankly, looking around and sighing as you shrugged.

“Just leave, Eddie.” And you'd took to your words. Eddie not following or even trying to call you back.

You always just referred to him by his surname. That was the first time you said his name, and the way you said it got him thinking what it would be like to hear it all the time coming from you. Or at least what it would’ve been like.

But it was the way you said it that told him know you weren’t looking to hear much more from him.

You’d never give him the time of day now and that’s what broke Eddie as he stood there watching you.

—

A/N: feedback and reblogs are appreciated.

[pavo-ocxllus]

« rewind. / pause. / fast forward. »

the illustrious fontaine legal firm was a workplace that every student would love to work under once they graduate from the hell that was law school.

whenever a high-profile case hits the media, chances were that the an attorney from that agency would appear not even a day later, solving it with ease. (and not to mention, the salary was a little bit more than just mouthwatering.)

you were (naturally) elated once you received news that you earned a job there starting the moment you walked through the glass doors ahead of you. your heart was beating in anticipation as your lips were tucked into a seemingly permanent smile. it wasn't even after you set your hand on the door when questions started pouring in—what were your co-workers going to be like? are they obnoxiously snobby regarding the prestige they held with their profession? perhaps they were more humble about their accomplishments? (even though they literally took down a fatui head not even a week earlier.)

unfortunately, your questions remained unanswered once you were met with a sudden chair nearing your face.

"watch it!"

you weren't even able to close your eyes to brace for impact with how quickly everything was moving. one moment, the chair that was about to give you a a career-ending concussion (get a hold of yourself—this is the legal field, not a sports field!) and the next, it was out of your sight, replaced by arms wrapped around your figure.

"itto! for goodness sake- the police aren't out to get you!" a green-haired woman was quick to appear, an irk mark appearing at her forehead at the scene that just played before her.

"c'mon, shinobu! you never know!" the tall man who she was referring to simply scoffed, already armed with another chair.

"well, with that logic, you shouldn't be trusting us either," she rolled her eyes, ignoring 'itto's' protests and focused her attention towards the entrance. you were quick to notice that these two voices didn't match up with the first one you've heard. "and heizou... what did i say about hugging up on our new workers?!"

you looked to the side, finding a young, maroon-haired man who's arms were loosening from your body as he raised his hands up. "aww, but shinobu... i was only trying to protect them... and think about it this way, it was only an orientation for our precious, new attorney!"

"yeah, an orientation at hr and filing a harassment lawsuit," she grumbled under her breath and pinching her nose as she fixed up her mask. "now, don't you have a job to do?"

"it's my break, remember-?"

"the break that lasted for half of your working hours? i'm sure i do... just get back to your office," the woman sighed, shaking her head once 'heizou' started to go along his way. "i'm sorry about those two... my name is kuki shinobu, i work in human resources."

slightly surprised by how quickly she got over this little spat, you reached to shake her extended hand. "ah, it's uh- nice to meet you."

though her mask obstructed most of her face, you could tell by her violet eyes that she was grinning. however, this expression was short lived once she dusted herself off a bit, going behind you to grab the thrown chair resting on the ground. "unfortunately, we can't give you a proper orientation, but i'll send you on you way to yanfei to explain everything—oh, speak of the devil."

at the moment, you followed shinobu's line of sight to find a pink-haired woman strolling by with enormous books, binders, and piles of paperwork in her grasp. you couldn't help but feel a small shiver up your spine: if this is what you'll deal with everyday, working here might infringe on your labor rights.

a little too focused on heaving her pile of work, shinobu cleared her throat to attract her attention.

"ah- hi there!" she greeted, somehow not stumbling when a book on top of her stack started slipping. once she found a nearby desk, she was swift to set everything there, evening out the pile while she was at it. "you must be our new attorney! i'm yanfei, i'm a legal advisor here (and hopefully future co-worker!), and i believe that you already have your first case!"

first job? on you first day? you were only in the general vicinity of this firm for sub 5 minutes at most—you didn't even receive your i.d. badge!

"here... it's nothing major. our boss may believe in throwing someone out into the professional world to see how they fare, but it's not like they're a sadist!" yanfei's words didn't exactly help your shocked state as she beckoned you towards the desk she set her paperwork on top of, pre-laid manila folders sitting before you. "as you can see... we're slightly understaffed here... but think about it as your unauthenticated orientation! you receive experience, and we keep our heads above the water for the time being!"

you've only been here for a short fraction of time compared to many of your new colleagues and barely even started your new job, yet you're already way in over your head! regardless, it wasn't like you've had a choice right now...

you glided your fingers across the folders spread across the table, and eventually, you decided to sift through the contents, glossing your eyes over the words before closing it and moving on to the next file.

with a deep sigh, you decide to...

↳ pick up the folder blatantly labeled "itto's case." it took you a good few minutes to decipher it with the abhorrent handwriting.

↳ shift your gaze towards the file that's noticeably lacking in papers compared to the older folders.

↳ hold the case that caught your eye, checking it once more to see if your eyes were deceiving you. there was no way this person was going to court...

↳ remember seeing the fatui head's name pop up in one of the files, you grab it quickly to check through it again. wait... you're defending him?!

↳ not even bothering to look at folders for a second time, you turn on your heel to walk past shinobu and yanfei, heading to the exit.

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫? 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞! <𝟑

[stickyjjaem]

dirty little secret - find out games you don't wanna play | bang chan

pairing: bang chan x reader, ??? x reader

genre: uni!au, predebut/idol!au, manager!reader, slow burn

chapter warnings: crying, inappropriate times for jokes, massive chat, cliff hanger?!?!?

word count: 1k-ish

author notes: cheeky unannounced hiatus? why not! hope you enjoy this tho <3

taglist: @idunnomanmynamewastaken​ @freyaniobe​ @jellyglly @stepout-09-15​ @moremilkforkags (send me an ask if you would like to be added!)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Chan heard someone just outside of the studio. He heard the rustle of clothes before the gentle slide of paper under the door. It wasn’t loud at all, but just enough for him to notice it over the song he was working on. He rolls his chair over to pick up the piece of paper that had appeared and unfolds it carefully to be able to read what it said.

“7pm…” Chan glances over to the corner of his computer screen. 6:37pm. You would be leaving in 23 minutes. He hasn’t showered in days. He smells like shit and looks even worse. But, if he doesn’t talk to you now, he’s not sure he’ll ever get the chance to. Thank god for the emergency supply of baby wipes and deodorant he’s whipping out of his drawer to tidy himself up a bit. He lifts his cap to tidy the hair under it before replacing it and leaving his studio, his heart thumping in his chest.

Chan had started to avoid you after his… discussion with Felix. He didn’t really intend to, but he couldn’t bear facing you after what Felix had told him. It made perfect sense that you didn’t reciprocate his feelings between how he treated you when you were together and how he treated you when you started working at JYP; but he can’t help feeling as heartbroken as he does. He thought he’d finally had the chance to win you back, only to find out you were attracted to his best friend. He loves Felix, but he didn’t really want to hear about your crush on Jisung from him.

He stands in front of the door to your office, his hands trembling as he reaches for the handle. Chan hesitates as thoughts of everything going wrong flood his mind. He can’t do this. He already fucked up. He’s got no right to beg for forgiveness. A sliver of hope remains, though: what if you do forgive him? What if you’ve spoken about it to someone, anyone, and decided it’s worth another try? That thought alone is what pushes him to open the door – at 6:54pm.

“I’m literally just about to leave, this better be importa- Chan… you came.” You’re busy stuffing things into your bag, about to leave, when you hear someone walk in, only lifting your head to give whoever walked in a lecture about professional boundaries. You freeze the moment you meet his eyes. At about 6:45pm, you’d figured he probably wasn’t going to show, and that you were going to have to hand in your resignation sooner rather than later anyway, but here he was.

“You said to come talk to you… I’m so sorry. For everything.” Chan manages to get out out, but his voice is broken, as if he hadn’t used it in a few days – and judging by the fact he was still in the same clothes you had last seen him in, maybe he hadn’t. You have to stifle a laugh.

“God, you sound like shit. Here, drink some water, I can’t have my artist ruining his voice before awards season.” You pull a bottle of water out of the mini fridge under your desk before taking a seat on the couch in your office. The air is thick, your hands are shaking as you pass him the water bottle, and he sits on the edge of the couch as he drinks it.

“So… a lot happened this week, huh?” You open the conversation, running a hand through your hair as Chan clears his throat awkwardly. He can only nod slowly, humming in agreement as he sets the bottle down by the couch.

“Where do I even start… I’m sorry it took me so long.” Neither of you are entirely sure what he’s referring to, but neither of you have the courage to address it.

“Jisung came over the other night, he said you and Felix have been avoiding each other?” You frown at him, knowing how much he loved his younger Australian brother, and how they were avoiding each other because of you. He winced a little at the mention of Jisung.

“Yeah… I kinda snapped at him when… you know… I fucked up.” He sighs, making a mental note to apologise to Felix once he had finished up at the company for the night. You don’t push that topic any further.

“Felix said you have a crush on Jisung? I understand why, he’s kind, he’s funny, he wasn’t a dick to you when you started working for us…” Chan clears the lump from his throat – he knows Jisung well enough to know that you and him would work well together.

“Ah… he really did tell you everything… Felix isn’t entirely right. I actually told Jisung when he was at my place, but he… he rejected me.” You could see Chan’s shoulders relax as the words left your mouth, only to tense up again.

“He… he didn’t upset you, did he?

“He was really nice about it, and I guess he helped me realise something.” Straightening your shoulders, you take Chan’s hands into your own, rubbing the top of them gently.

“You are the biggest asshole I know, Chris. You broke up with me because you didn’t want to be ‘tied down,’ then did the one and only thing I wanted to do with you with whoever she was a month later. The day I started working for JYP, you yelled at me, beat me down, called me useless in three different languages, you refused to even give me the time of day. You were so hellbent on either getting rid of me or keeping me as far away as possible. I should hate you for how many times you’ve hurt me.” Chan’s vision blurs, hot tears threatening to coat his cheeks.

“But if you’re the biggest asshole, I’m the biggest idiot. I’d be lying if I said I don’t still have feelings for you. I never stopped having feelings for you. I’m not saying everything’s okay and we can be all lovey-dovey again, but if you’re willing to put the work in, I’m willing to do the same. I want to give us another chance.”