#the second one is my favorite of this set

[gul-dukat89]

Quentin and his buddy Drake had always placed bets on the games when it came to their two teams facing off against each other. And usually it was money bets. They never went over $100 if their team lost to the other. This had been going on for several years.

This year, Drake had decided to take their friendly wagers on the games to a different level. He wanted to experience bragging rights when his team won. Drake's team was the Los Angeles Rams. They were the San Francisco 49ers biggest rival. He thought of a new addition to their bet.

"I propose we bet something different on this weekend's game. One that includes major bragging rights at the expense of the loser." Drake proposed, waiting to see if Quentin would be interested in a change.

"So if we aren't betting money, what are you proposing, we bet? What should the winner get if he wins?" Quentin asked with a curious look on his face.

"This time, the winner truly gets bragging rights." Drake paused as he pulled out his TF Shrink Ray device to show it to Quentin. "The winner gets to turn the loser into anything displaying the winning teams name for a week. The winner out of the two of us really gets to show bragging rights."

Quentin thought about it. It really intrigued him. He had been wanting a good pair of 48ers shorts to wear to the gym. This was one way to get a pair without paying for one. "I actually love your idea. I need a pair of 49ers shorts for the gym." He laughed.

"My Rams will win, and you will be a nice Rams shirt for me to wear all week." Drake countered back as both shook hands on the agreement.

On the weekend, Drake agreed to watch the game over at Quentin's place to show how confident he was of the Rams winning. He was so ready for a nice Rams jersey fresh and new.

As both watched intently, he rooted for their team every time they scored a touchdown or field goal kick. When the final score was earned in the last five seconds of the 4th quarter, it showed the 49ers beating the Rams by 2 points. It was a really close game down to the end.

Drake looked on disappointed at the ending score. It meant that he would have to display the 49ers name for a whole week. Yet a deal was a deal. He hands the TF Shrink Ray over to Quentin without any resistance. It was only for a week, he convinced himself over the decision.

Quentin smiles as he puts in the settings on the device and fires it at Drake. He watched as his buddy rapidly shrunk in size. His skin changed to red and turned like cloth. In a couple of minutes, there was a nice new pair of 49ers shorts on the couch beside him. He picked them up and examined them. They seemed perfect. He thought about talking to his shorts, but that sounded ridiculous. He wanted to treat Drake just like what he appeared to be, his property, and an article of clothing.

THREE DAYS LATER.....

Drake was only just three days into his seven days as 49ers shorts, and he was already regretting his willing decision. Quentin had worn him to the gym all three days. Each day was intense, sweat, and grind. Each day, he came back reeked of a strong musk odor. Quentin would wash and dry him to wear him the next day to do it all over again. At least one time, Quentin jerked off in him, not wearing any underwear. He felt so degraded, not to mention that he was stuck wearing the name of a team he didn't like much.

ONE MONTH LATER......

Quentin had just gotten back from the gym wearing his favorite shorts. After one week, he simply couldn't part with them as originally agreed. He wanted to keep his shorts. They were super comfortable and durable. He simply had to keep them. He hoped Drake would understand at least one day. He had deleted the reverse data from his device so that there was no way to change him back. He never spoke to his shorts ever. It would look strange if he did. Drake was nothing but his 49ers shorts now.

[dadvans]

when I want to run away (I drive off in my car) [bucktommy]

Chimney comes over with an armful of DVDs. Mandated brother-in-law break-up bonding time. Buck is pretty sure that isn’t a thing, at least not the kind that Chimney seems to be suggesting with what are discernibly all romcom titles. Buck is pretty sure Chimney should be taking him out and getting him wasted and encouraging him to get laid, but then again he’s friends with Tommy too so there might be some allegiance at play here.

He groans when Chimney puts on Say Anything.

“What, you actually know a movie made before 2012?”

“Tommy loves this one,” Buck replies. There had been a showing at repertory cinema in July and Tommy had dragged them both to escape the afternoon heat. It had been… sweet. There had maybe been three other people in the place who ignored them in the back row, making out like teenagers.

“Yeah, he’s always been a secret softie,” Chimney says.

“I’d say you should be over at his place with these,” Buck continues, flipping through the titles. Love Actually. The Proposal. Crazy, Stupid, Love. “These are actually his favorites. Wait, was I your second choice?”

“What? No,” Chimney says, but he sounds kind of cagey about it.

“He’s probably too busy cliff diving or BASE jumping.” Buck drops the DVDs. “He was the one who dumped me, remember? I don’t think he’s too hung up to need a chick flick movie marathon.”

“Now that is not true. Secret softie, remember? He’s hurting as much as I’ve ever seen, he just doesn’t wear it on his sleeve like some people.” Chimney gives him a very pointed look. “I bet he stood outside your door a half hour after he left hoping you’d chase after him, feeling like a total idiot.”

That’s new. “Did he tell you that?”

Chimney shrugs. “Maybe not verbatim, but he may have let something slip in a moment of total weakness.”

Buck snorts. “So, what are you doing over here with me and these then?”

“I was maybe hoping I could inspire you into some of your usual Buck heroics,” Chimney admits, then has the gall to look offended when Buck twists to stare at him, confused. “What? I’m a meddler. I notoriously meddle. C’mon, he said some things he wishes he could take back, but maybe he’s not as confident as you give him credit for. He’s a romcom guy. He could use a little woo-ing too, you know. Someone who makes him feel like he’s worth fighting for. A big gesture! Not—not moving in or anything, but just—you see what I’m saying here?”

Buck stares at young John Cusack paused on his TV screen and smiles to himself. “Yeah, I think I might.”

He spends the rest of the day off his couch driving through half the pawn shops in Glendale before he finds himself, sun setting at his back, outside Tommy’s house. He parks between Tommy’s truck in the drive and walks down the sidewalk where Tommy’s kitchen window is lit up and open.

Tommy comes outside thirty seconds later to the sound of Peter Gabriel blasting out of the second hand stereo Buck’d finally found with an aux input at St. Vincent de Paul’s. His mouth twitches as he crosses his arms before he coughs and tucks his head down, briefly.

“Really?” He asks when he blinks back up at Buck, eyes wet like the last time Buck saw him: hope there, fleeting, wanting so badly to swim to the surface and stay. “Wait, did you plug your phone into that thing?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, loud enough over the music the whole neighborhood can probably hear him. “I don’t know how to burn CDs.”

Tommy’s smile finally cracks through, and he nods before taking several careful steps across his dead lawn, feet bare, so he can get two tentative hands on Buck’s hips. “Well, if you want to come inside,” he says, “I can show you.”

[atlaculture]

how do you think the calendar is organized in the atla universe? they have a twelve-month system like we do but what would those months each be called? do you think they have leap years?

Right off the bat, let me just say that hypothetical calendars and alternative timekeeping is one of my favorite topics to talk about so this reply is going to be lengthy.

First off, everything we know about the calendar system in Avatar comes from the planetary calendar room in Wan Shi Tong's library.

The innermost ring indicates the number of months in a year (12), the second ring indicates number of days in a month (30), the third ring indicates the different Avatar eras (16 shown), and the outermost ring showcases all of the animals of the zodiac cycle (12). For this reply, we're only going to be focusing on the innermost and second rings.

According to the episode, the ATLAverse appears to have only 12-month years, so no leap year 13th month like the East Asian lunar calendar. There also doesn't appear to be any months with more than 30 days, judging by the number of days shown on the calendar. This means that the maximum number of possible days for an Avatar year is 360. So it's safe to say that there are probably no leap years like ours in the ATLAverse. I guess their Earth's orbit is slightly shorter and more suited for timekeeping than ours.

As for what each month would be called in the ATLAverse, there's a couple of options. One option is to simply call the months by order: First month, second month, third month, etc. This actually ties back to Avatar's primary cultural influence of China, as that's literally how months are named in Mandarin. This is straightforward, practical, and doesn't require any complex etymology or extensive worldbuilding.

However, I also think it would be fun to weave motifs into the calendar. Since there's so much emphasis on balance and cycles, why not divide the twelve months between the four elements? I imagine these months would be referred to as:

The 1st, 2nd, & 3rd Water Month

The 1st, 2nd & 3rd Earth Month

The 1st, 2nd, & 3rd Fire Month

The 1st, 2nd, & 3rd Air Month

For example, a person might say "I was born in the first water month, in the year of the rabbit." Naturally, there would be plenty of superstitions and horoscopes related to the combination of birth month and birth year.

The show also canonically mentions weeks passing by, although they never specify the number of days in their weeks. In a previous post, I mentioned that government officials during the Qin & Han Dynasty were given a day off every five days to bathe themselves. I think this would be a good basis for a week in the ATLAverse, four days of work and one day of rest. Each working day would be named after a cardinal direction (East-day, North-day, West-day, South-day) and the resting day would be called "Center-day", paralleling a compass.

In short, an ATLA month would be comprised of 6 five-day weeks and a year would be made up of 12 thirty-day months; the days would be themed around the cardinal directions and the months would be themed around the four elements. I think this would be a good way of adding texture to the world of Avatar, without weighing the setting down with too much worldbuilding or cultural baggage.

...And that would just be the default "world" calendar that magical libraries and travelers and international organizations would use. I think each nation would probably have their own unique calendar tailored to suit their own cultural and seasonal needs.

I might make a few posts on what each nation's calendar system might be, if anyone would like to read that.

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1247 words

“Oh,” James pauses, his thumb hovering over his screen as he glances at the phone, his expression shifting to one of mild frustration. “It’s work,” he mutters under his breath, his brow furrowing slightly. “I need to take this.”

“That’s alright,” you smile gently. “I’ll take Henry in, and you can meet us in there when you’re done.”

“Are you sure?” James asks, his gaze flicking between you and Henry, who is gripping both straps of his backpack, his glasses slightly askew as he squints curiously at the classroom ahead.

“Yes,” you encourage, taking a sip of the coffee James made for you this morning savoring the warmth. “If you’re quick enough, I don’t think he’ll even notice.” You nod towards Henry, who is intently watching the family ahead of you greet his teacher, his curiosity piqued.

James presses a quick, hurried kiss to your forehead before stepping out of the line and heading off to take the call. Henry's teacher greets him with warmth, complimenting his glasses and excitedly telling him about the art projects planned for the day. The exchange is brief but effective, and you can see Henry’s nerves begin to ease. He’s been uncertain about school all morning, but you and James have done your best to ease his worries, sharing stories of your own favorite memories from school to get him excited.

You barely finish telling Henry that you’ll meet the other parents before he’s darting forward, his little legs carrying him with surprising speed toward the corner of the room where the toys are. A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you watch him seamlessly slip into a group of kids, his small hands eagerly grabbing a toy train. All his earlier fears seem to vanish in an instant, replaced by the gleam of excitement in his eyes. 

At the back of the classroom, a table is set up with an assortment of pastries, a small sign propped up beside them: We know this may be a tough transition, so enjoy a lemon croissant to brighten your day! You smile softly at the gesture, reaching for one of the croissants just as someone else does, your fingers brushing against each other.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, glancing up at a man who looks equally as surprised as you. The pastry is now long forgotten.

“No, no, I’m the one who should be sorry,” the man rushes to say, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment as he offers you a sheepish smile. “I got a bit too excited to finally grab some breakfast and didn’t even notice you there.”

“I get it,” You laugh, holding up your coffee cup. “This is all I had time for this morning.” “The struggles of being a parent,” he jokes, offering you his hand with a wry smile. “Aaron. My kid’s the one who looks like she’s two seconds away from crying. It’s clearly a big day for her.”

You offer your name, smiling sympathetically at the sight of his daughter, who is taking in the classroom with big, wide eyes. “Mine’s the one with glasses, who is very impatiently waiting for a turn at the train table.”

You spend the next few minutes chatting with Aaron, commiserating over the bittersweet challenge of watching your child start school. You both agree that the teacher seems wonderful—kind, approachable, and genuinely invested in the kids. 

“Daddy,” A sweet, soft voice says. “Nobody wants to be my friend.” You watch with a squeeze in your heart how nervous the little girl, Ella, you learned, looks. Aaron sighs, leaning down to talk to his daughter, and your eyes shift to Henry, who is chatting to anyone willing to listen.

You call his name, and when he glances up, you gesture for him to come over.

“Yeah, mumma?” Henry comes to meet you where you're bent down, slotting himself into your side as he watches Ella sniffle into her dad's shoulder.

It doesn’t take long after the introductions for Ella’s tears to dry, replaced by infectious giggles as she and Henry build towering block structures, only to gleefully knock them down again.

“Thank you,” Aaron murmurs, his gaze fixed on Ella, sitting on the floor in front of you both with Henry, before he glances at you. “I wasn’t sure how I’d manage to leave for work knowing she was so upset.”

“It was no problem,” you shrug, your voice soft. “I know today’s been tough.”

You’re so absorbed in watching Henry and Ella that you don’t notice Aaron’s gaze lingering on you, appreciatively taking you in, or how his eyes flick to your left hand, searching for any sign of a ring. But James notices. He’s just barely made it in the door after his call, and the moment his eyes land on you and Aaron, a flicker of something dark passes over his face. His jaw tightens, his posture stiffening as he stands in the doorway, feeling the jealousy pool in his stomach.

Aaron leans in, his proximity crossing into uncomfortable territory—you don’t seem to notice, though—as he points to something across the classroom. James, already tense, steps forward, irritation clear in his movements—he’s had enough of watching someone else make an attempt to flirt with you, and it’s barely been thirty seconds.

“I’m sorry, darling. The call took longer than I expected.” He murmurs, his arm slipping around your waist. The warmth in his voice makes your face brighten, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“That’s alright.” You murmur, that lovestruck look settling on your face as you gaze at him. For a brief moment, you forget that you were in the middle of a conversation, so distracted by the feeling of James’ touch.

“Oh! This is Aaron—his daughter Ella is playing with Henry.” You gesture toward Ella before flashing Aaron a smile. “And this is James—”

“—Her husband.” James interjects, his tone sharp as he extends his hand. Your jaw drops in surprise as you turn to him, shock written across your face.

Aaron hesitates for a moment, then takes James’ hand, his expression unreadable. “Nice to meet you, mate,” he says, his voice steady, though there’s an uncomfortable edge to it.

A few minutes of brief conversation pass, and it's clear Aaron isn't nearly as warm with James present as he was when it was just you. Sensing the tension, you feel a wave of relief when the teacher announces it's time for parents to say their goodbyes and head out. You and James shower Henry with kisses and smother him in hugs, reluctant to let him go, before finally saying your goodbyes.

James hopes you’ve forgotten his jealous remark, but as soon as you get in the car, you turn to him, shaking your head with an amused smile.

“My husband? How will you explain that when he finds out you lied?” You snort, glancing expectantly at James.

“Listen, love,” he starts, his tone defensive, “you should’ve seen the way he was looking at you. He checked if you were wearing a ring!”

“I don’t care,” you reply, buckling yourself in with a soft, sincere smile. “The only man I care about is you.” You hum playfully, adding, “Even if he did kind of look like you.”

James scoffs, his eyes flicking to you. “He absolutely did not,” he mutters, his tone defensive. “I’m way better looking.” When you don’t respond, he glances at you again, a hint of panic creeping in. “Right?”

please please please consider reblogging and/or commenting. it keeps me motivated to continue writing and reblogging spreads my work 🤍

[julymusings]

simplicity

out there they're afraid even of the killer's shadow, and here i reside in his heartbeat like a home

or; the big bad red hood has a soft spot only for you [3.4k]

jason todd x fem!reader; tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff; aggressive unwanted advances, implied roofie attempt, violence & blood, slut-shaming; Jason “my girl can wear whatever she wants I can fight” Todd; in da clerb, we all fam ⎯ based on this !

A humid, crowded, upscale club isn’t the most ideal way to spend your Friday night, and Jason knows this. Frankly, it’s not his either, but as the owner of the humid, crowded, upscale club, he had to make some appearances as his own business.

“It’s a night out,” he had said. “Let’s make the most of it.”

If you’re being honest, it’s also not the worst way to spend your Friday night. Not when Jason dressed up so deliciously, in a fitted t-shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. Not when he took you to a booth in the corner of the club and had them bring over your favorite drinks and snacks with the order to keep them coming. Not when you got to wear that cute little black dress that’s been hanging in your closet for months with your favorite strappy heels, the ones with ribbons that wrapped around your ankle and tied into a bow in the back. Not when Jason sat you on his lap and settled a large hand on your thigh, where it stayed the whole night.

All in all, you would say you’re making the most of it. 

You’re sipping on your drink, chatting about something or the other with your boyfriend. He’s half listening, half drawing circles on your thigh and pressing kisses to your shoulder when one of the employees finds you. She’s freaking out because one of the performers hasn’t shown up, and there’s no one else to go in her place.

Jason huffs. He lifts you off his lap and sets you down on the seat. “I’m sorry, baby, I just gotta take care of this. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be here.” You smile over the rim of your glass.

He looks around for a moment, then gestures to someone across the room. One of the bouncers make their way to you.

“Just keep an eye out,” he tells him. “I don’t trust these entitled country club fuckers.”

He gives a curt nod. Jason leans in close, smirking, and says, “especially not when you look like that,” and gives you a quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd with the employee.

A couple minutes later, a crash snaps your attention towards the bar. A young, college-aged looking man is berating a waitress while a mess of shot glasses litter the floor around them. The waitress looks about to cry.

“Jesus Christ,” the bouncer says to himself. Then to you, “Gimme a second.”

You move to the edge of the booth to watch as he goes over and tries to pacify the man, but that only seems to make him angrier. He shoves the bouncer, yelling about “shitty customer service.” 

You don’t get to see what happens next, though, because your field of vision is obscured by an enormous, very shiny, and very douchey silver belt buckle. You look up for its owner, and a greasy-looking, white-haired man looks down at you. 

“Hey there, sweetheart.” A fake gold tooth catches the flashing lights and it glints in your eye. Uninvited, he slides into the booth across from you. He places a drink on the table, sliding it towards you. “You look thirsty. Got this for you.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got one.” You hold your own glass up.

He rolls his eyes. “Pretty thing like you should be takin’ advantage of all the free drinks you could be gettin’.” His smile sends a chill down your spine.

“Again, I’m fine,” you say, a little harsher. “My boyfriend has brought me plenty of drinks already.”

He laughs. It’s a high-pitched, scratchy, wheezing sound. Like a kazoo. “I don’t see this boyfriend of yours anywhere. He should know better than to leave you alone. I’d treat you much better than him.” His eyes travel down your neck and stay there. You stand from the booth and take a big step back. It’s not entirely personal; no matter how much of a threat he may be, Jason is a worse one. And if he’s still in this neighborhood, never mind this building, you fear for this man’s safety much more than your own. But the man follows, bringing the cup with him. “Come on, honey, it’s a compliment. Show a little thanks. I don’t bite.”

You don’t have to be the world’s finest detective to know that is most definitely a lie. Or to know to avoid that cup at all costs.

You could just rebuff him, walk away. But you’re willing to bet he’d just move on to the next woman. One who’s probably a little less sober, and a little less aware of her surroundings. You feign a stumble and knock the drink out of his grip. It tips toward him, drenching him with its contents. He chokes out a shocked gasp.

“Oops,” you deadpan, not at all trying to hide your indifference.

“You bitch,” he snarls. He lunges forward, snatching your wrist. You try to pull it back, but his grip is iron and bruising. “I was doing you a favor. Do you see anyone else here looking at you?”

You’re suddenly grateful you didn’t put up much of a fight after Jason came home from patrolling one night insisting he show you some self-defense moves. Far be it from you to cause a scene, but this guy isn’t giving you much choice. You employ the cardinal rule of women’s self-defense: go for the crotch. You shift your weight to your non-dominant side and launch your dominant knee right into his groin. The sharp metal edge of his belt buckle slices the skin just above your knee, but it shocks him enough to release your wrist and double over. The same leg used in your attack plants itself on the ground, and you use the momentum to pistol your opposite fist forward. It collides with his nose in a bone-cracking cross. Your stacks of studded rings didn’t do him any favors, either. He cries out in pain. His hands fly up to cover his nose, and the cup falls from his grasp and shatters on the floor, garnering the attention of some surrounding patrons. Blood seeps between his fingers.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for that.” His tone drips with poison. He reaches into his coat pocket and brandishes a switchblade (because of course. You’re not surprised, though. It is Gotham). You look around in a panic, hoping to find Jason towering somewhere over the crowd. He’s not there. A few guys who work for him, though, have since taken notice of the commotion and are making their way towards you. You know they won’t make it in time. You weren’t scared a moment ago, but you definitely are now. Jason only briefly covered disarming techniques, and you didn’t have his practice to stay calm in situations like these. He steps closer, shoes crunching over the glass shards, and you step back. You’re backed into a corner, literally. Your back is pressed against the table. His eyes are glassy and void of color.

There is a resounding pop when the man’s knife-wielding hand is yanked to the side. Too fast for your brain to register, he thuds against the table next to you and the knife clatters to the ground. You look over and see Jason, one hand pressing his face into the table and the other twisting the man’s arm behind his back. 

When his men finally reach you, Jason is seething. They look almost as afraid as the man, whose whimpers are muffled the pressure with which he’s flattened against the table.

“Who the fuck let this happen,” Jason glowers. Uncomfortable glances are shared between the men, all sharing the same sentiment; we fucked up big time.

Jason’s livid gaze flits back and forth among them. His veins flex against his forearms, rippling with effort. It looks like he’s putting all his strength into incapacitating the man, but you know better. He’s putting all his strength into restraint. The look on his face is cold and steely, with hardened, venom-green eyes and a clenched jaw. This isn’t Jason, the sweet boyfriend, or Jason the easy-going yet respected club proprietor. This is Jason the crime lord. Jason the anti-hero. This is the Red Hood. Who makes his own rules and kills anyone who breaks them. It’s a bit off-putting for you to see him like this; he’s never like this with you. He’s always just…Jason. Your Jason.

One of his men speaks up. “We’re sorry, Boss, we were keepin’ an eye like you asked, but there was trouble up at the bar.”

Jason scowls. “Trouble that required all of you?”

At their silence, he rolls his eyes. “Idiots,” he says under his breath. He jerks the man up to stand, the hand that was pressing him to the table now gripping the back of his shirt collar. “Someone take care of this.” He shoves the man in their direction. Hard. One of them catches him. “And for fuck’s sake, check him for anything else.” 

While they’re busy patting him down, Jason turns back to you. You get whiplash from how quick his demeanor changes. Though still tense, the rigidity of his expression is long gone, replaced with tender concern.

“Are you okay?” His wide eyes scan you up and down, searching for any signs of injury. You manage a nod, still a bit stunned by his apparent shape-shifting abilities. “I’m so sorry, honey, this is my fault. It’s my fault for leaving you alone.” He pulls you close for a hug and kisses the top of your head, murmuring further apologies into your hair.

You pull back and cup his face in your hands. “It’s okay, Jay, I’m fine. I promise.” You lean in to kiss him, and feel his shoulders relax.

“Jesus, man, sorry! Wouldn’t’a come on so strong if I knew she was your whore. How much did ‘ya pay for her, anyway?” His voice rings from behind. Jason tenses up again. When he pulls back from you, he’s gone. He’s like Jekyll-turned-Hyde when the combatant that lay dormant inside him reassumes his body.

He turns around, but his large frame shields you from seeing the scene unfold. You place a hand on his arm, a silent message of support, and you can feel him vibrating with anger. His hand comes to rest over yours and give a reassuring squeeze.

“You know what?” You can’t be sure who he’s speaking to, but you can hear the eerie smile in his tone. “I’ll take care of this.” He faces you. “Can you give me a minute? Is that okay?” His voice is calm.

You know he would stay if you asked him to. And you never would, but you know he would go outside and kill that guy if you asked him to. And maybe you’re feeling a tad vindictive after the whole ordeal, so you just say, “Okay.”

He kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ll come find you,” he says, stepping away, and you nod.

“Ross,” he commands. “Take her to the office. Get her whatever she wants.” Jason then speaks to all of his men. His tone drips with disdain. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about who’s getting fired for this.” You catch some of his men flinch.

He grabs the man by the collar once again and stalks towards the exit, dragging him along.

You’ve met Ross once or twice, though never exchanged more than a few words. He smiles at you. It’s amiable, if not slightly nervous. You know where the office is, but you’re still grateful for the guide. The mesh of moving bodies under dim lights makes all four corners of the room look the same. With the adrenaline wearing off, your hands ache and you become acutely aware of the stinging shock that shoots up your knee when you walk on it but, persevering, you follow him to the back. He holds the door that reads ‘RESTRICTED - DO NOT ENTER’ open for you, and you smile in thanks.

Various employees, servers and performers alike, mill about in the back hallways. You know some of them, having met in passing during other visits to the club, and offer polite greetings as you walk by. When you arrive at Jason’s office, Ross unlocks the door for you and you step inside.

It’s a nice office, noticeably homier than it was when you and Jason met. The first time he brought you back here it was just a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. You perched yourself on his desk while he sat in his chair and you teased him for not having a place for guests to sit, saying something about ‘men and their awful interior designing skills.’

“It’s not ‘bad skills,’ it’s cost-effective. ‘M runnin’ a business here, baby. If you need a place to sit that badly, you can sit right here.” He joked, patting his lap. And he said it with such conviction you believed him, but the next time you visited there was a brand new, plushy suede couch pushed against the wall.

You find a seat on said couch and try to get comfortable despite your protesting joints. From here you can spot a framed photo on Jason’s desk; the two of you smiling while bathing a shelter dog at the Wayne Animal Sanctuary. But while you smile at the camera, his gaze is trained on you.

 Ross stands in the doorway, stoic as a bodyguard should be. “Do you need anything?” He asks you.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“‘Course. I’ll be outside. Just yell if you need anything.” He moves to exit, but pauses. “Look,” he says, “We’re all really sorry about what happened. It was our fault. You have every right to hate us.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “God knows the boss does.”

You purse your lips, unsure how to respond. Technically Jason did instruct them not to leave you alone. But really, the only person at fault is that horrible man, and he was currently getting what he deserved.

“It’s okay, Ross,” you say, and you mean it. “I don’t blame you. And Jason’s not gonna fire any of you, okay? I won’t let him.”

He exhales. “Okay, you—yeah. Okay. Thanks.” He loiters awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. “Listen, Todd’s always been a great boss. But it’s no joke when it comes to you. Don’t know exactly what happened, but after meeting you, he’s just…different. Not sure if I believe it, but after the first time you were here, one of the bartenders swears they heard him whistling. Anyway, just mean to say…we’re glad he has you.”

His sincerity warms your heart. You thank him, and he assumes his post outside, closing the door. 

At last in decent lighting, you take the time to examine yourself. Your knee, knuckles, and wrist are splotchy with bruises. A small scrape rests just above your knee from you were scratched. There’s a splattering of blood on your knuckles and on the rings you’re wearing. You grimace, the reality of what just happened settling in. Someone pulled a knife on you. If Jason hadn’t been there…the thought leaves you cold.

There’s voices on the other side of the door, then receding footsteps. After a few seconds, a knock.

“Baby? Can I come in?”

“Yes,” you call out. Jason enters, locking the door behind him. There’s some smatterings of blood on his hands and face, and he’s holding a first aid kit. Your immediate instinct is that he’s the one who needs first aid.

“Are you okay?” You ask as he kneels on the floor in front of you. “Did he hurt you?”

Jason tilts his head like a confused puppy, eyebrow raised. Just like that, The Red Hood is gone. He’s Jason again. He speaks softly, with a hint of his usual boyish charm. “Should I be insulted by you asking me that?” He picks up your un-injured leg and places the foot on his thigh, beginning to unravel the ribbon wrapped around your ankle. He removes the shoe and places it to the side, then repeats with your other foot. But when he moves it, your knee twitches and you wince. He frowns, but doesn’t say anything. He sees the way your eyes travel between all the spots of blood. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, none of it’s mine.”

You sigh in relief. “You didn’t…kill him, did you?”

He chuckles, lightly massaging your foot. “Nah…did you want me to? ‘Cause I can still—”

“No.”

He smirks at you, before leaning down to press a kiss to your bruised knee. It’s so gentle, so loving, it completely contradicts the bloodstains that adorn him. As his hands move up to your calf, your hand moves to his hair, fingers threading through the white streaks and pushing them back so you can get a better view of his eyes. They’re a silky teal, bordering on sea green. They remind you of lake trips in the summer, and ice skating during the holidays.

“How bad is he? Like, on scale of ‘he can walk it off’ to ‘he needs to go to the hospital.’”

Jason pauses his movements, looking thoughtful for a moment.

“He…he’s walking himself to the hospital.”

There’s not much you can say to that. After all, you gave him to okay to go fuck that guy up.

From the first aid kit, he retrieves a box of Band-Aids. They’re the children’s ones, decorated with cartoons and various characters. A specific one catches your eye, and you pick it out of the carton.

“Robin? Really?”

Jason breathes out a small laugh. “One of my guys’ daughter loves him.” He unwraps the bandage and sticks it over the scratch. You admire the small red plaster. Jason traces a finger over the emblem in the center, a black and yellow ‘R’.

He moves from your leg to your hand, gingerly laying it in his palm. One by one he slides each of your rings off. They’re not particularly special, but you still like them and you try to protest when he tosses them in the trash. He’s quick to assuage you with promises to buy you new ones with, hopefully, less blood.

"Did you see how good I got him?" You suddenly feel shy asking such a question. Like a child seeking validation.

"I did see," Jason says. And there's not a hint of condescension in his tone. "I'm proud of you. You remembered what I taught you."

You beam under his pride.

He uses a sanitizing wipe to remove the droplets of blood from your knuckles, kissing each one along the way. He reaches your wrist last. There’s a purple hand-shaped mark that wraps around it, and he stares at it. You can see his thoughts race at sixty miles an hour, and you know he’s beating himself up about it.

“Hey.” The hand in his hair moves to stroke his cheek. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I promise. I love you.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to your wrist. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry.” He places gentle kisses on the purple skin. “I’m sorry. I love you.” He moves to the scratch above your knee, pressing more kisses, repeating the words like a prayer. Your hand is still enclosed in his hands, and his cool fingers soothe the throbbing swell. You pull his head up, holding his chin in your fingertips. His eyes close as he soaks in your warm touch.

You reach for another wipe and begin wiping the blood from his face. Some of it has dried, so you press the wipe a little harder, and blood rushes to his cheeks to give him an adorable flush. You repeat the process on his hands. Blood erased and wipes discarded, you pull him up to the couch to lie down with you. He stretches out, so large that his feet hang over the armrest. You snuggle up to his side and your head rests on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. It’s surreal, how utterly soft he is, and just for you. How no one else gets to see him like this. He goes out at night, a fighter, crusader, a deadly threat. And then he comes home to sleep in your arms. In your bed.

You place your hand against his chest, right over his heart to feel it thrum beneath your palm. It beats simple and steady, and just for you.

am i the only one who likes the whole jason owning the iceberg lounge storyline (aside from the whole penguin prisoner thing but i only write according to canon that i like and leave out the things i don't! whoops🤷‍♀️);

the feminine urge to write more fics that take place within the universe of this one...

divider is from here

[bbystark]

♡ simon is a bad stalker part 4 ♡

badstalker!simon x reader series - pt one two three

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: the date you've been waiting for dreading.

a/n: so i did the thing again where i dissapeared lol but IM BACK plz enjoy my offering

you get home safely, with soap, and you don't say a singular word. just kind of dumbly stare out the window and then at him when he helps you out of the car and into your house.

you can't stop thinking about ghost, and the fact that you quite literally cornered yourself into going on a date with your stalker

you really chalk it up to having some type of third response to danger, fight, flight or say the most ridiculous thing you possibly can. obviously you chose the third.

you go to bed that night with your cat in your arms, as if they can protect you from you're own stupid decision. you're shivering no matter how warm you try to get, and your cat throws you irritated side eyes.

you wake up with no sign of ghost. no calls, no texts, no emails. you try not to think about if he was in the house while you slept, like he had been before.

you try to have a normal day, but you're plagued with anxiety and anticipation

you decide to go outside, walk to the little coffee shop that's nearby to get fresh air and be somewhere you knew ghost hadn't been

you spend a few hours out, window shopping and trying to clear your head. you head back when the sun starts to go down, not keen on being out after dark.

what you come back to is almost comical.

you stumble through the door, eyes snapping to the huge figure in your kitchen. he turns around suddenly, and your cat is in his arms, rubbing her face against his mask. you only see it for half a second before he's setting them on the counter faster than you can blink. your cat lets out an irritated meow, and somehow even through the mask, ghost looks guilty

you laugh, you honest to god laugh. "oh my god. you fucking traitor." you whisper at your cat, trying to suppress your giggles. yeah, add this to the list of danger responses.

ghost straightens, and then you notice your surroundings. there's roses in a vase on your table, and he's cooking, there's at least 3 different pans and it smells incredible and you're dumbfounded. you stare at him, unable to say anything.

"welcome to your date love." he turns back to the stove, and you're grateful, because you feel like you can't move while he's looking. like one wrong move will make him snap and your worst nightmares will come true. you keep reminding yourself that nothing has happened before, and you take a seat in the chair at the table closest to the door.

"um, the roses are nice." you can see him cooking at this angle. "glad you like 'em. dinner will be done in a few." he doesn't turn around. he doesn't know how this will go, he's expecting you to run out at any moment, screaming bloody murder. he's trying to help you feel safe by turning his back, giving you the upper hand (or at least the illusion of the upper hand).

underneath that worry though, ghost was thriving in this scenario. it was like watching all of his fantasies come true, he couldn't help but preen under your compliment, and the ability to show you he can provide

you're still a little in shock. you don't say anything as ghost serves you dinner, your favorite, not surprising. you watch as he rolls up his mask, and takes a bite. it still doesn't convince you of the possibility of it being drugged.

"it's alright dove, not 'ere to hurt you, just 'ere to give you the date i promised." as he says it, your cat jumps onto the table, knocking over a glass of water. ghost stands, and looks down to find all the water had made it directly into his lap.

you find yourself laughing for the second time of the night. here your stalker is, looking like he peed himself. he chuckles himself, and you have to look away when you see his lopsided smile. you stand and grab a towel, temporarily forgetting the situation you were in. it was way too easy to see this as a real first date, awkward parts and all.

"thanks." he sits back down, clearing his throat. the proximity to you was intoxicating, but he was still worried about running you off.

you sit back down too, and take and slowly take a bite of the food. it's delicious, and you still can't believe the absurdity of the situation. "this is really great ghost. really." your voice is small, and music to his ears.

"thank you. m'sorry about breaking in. swear 'm just trying to make your life easier."

you decide to start testing boundaries, as one would. "maybe, since this is going... okay, you can stop coming in when i don't know? like maybe we can just keep doing this every once in a while?" damage control is all you can think of.

ghost thinks for a moment. "i dunno about that one love. how 'bout i give you a heads up when i do come in?"

"no more coming in here while i'm sleeping. and you still have to tell me when you're in my house."

"alright," he crosses his arm and leans back on the chair. do you hate how big he is because you're scared, or because you secretly like it? "i tell you when i come over, and no more coming in at night. but you 'ave to promise me one date a week."

you can't believe you're negotiating with this man. "okay." you concede.

he smiles and pulls his mask back down. he makes his way over to you, stroking your hair for half a second before clearing your plate. "look at us. arguing like a proper old couple already. "

as he does the dishes, you ask him more questions. he's answers as truthfully as he can, leaving out details here and there. no need to startle you.

you learn he was in the military, that the two men are some of the only people he's close with, that he trusts. besides you, of course. you feel like he throws that in to tell you to be wary of using this information against him.

from what you can tell, this is just a severely damaged man. the actions he was taking against you was just his reaction to loneliness, and his need to provide.

against your will, you feel the need to help him fill that hole. the need to tread lightly dissipates by the minute, and against your better judgement, you find yourself enjoying his company. and hey, he made dinner and did the dishes. that has to speak to his character somehow

later, he grabs your hand and runs rough fingers over your soft knuckles. promises he'll call, and then leaves.

and you're left alone, forced to do what you've done a lot lately; ponder your life decisions, and think about the large, surprisingly harmless stalker of yours..

[marsdql]

𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 & 𝙡𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Pairing: Boyfriend!Jake × girlfriend!fem!reader (featuring Sunghoon and Ni-ki)

Synopsis: You and your boyfriend's bandmates decided to surprise your lovely hardworking puppy for his birthday yuuuururrrr yup yup

Genre: teeth rotting fluff, little suggestive ending, jakes birthday!!

𝙈𝙖𝙧’𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: Happy Birthday Jake Skibidi i love that man... (requests are currently opened) Dont really have much to say since I posted yesterday but.... Ill be making a masterlist soon to organize my fics! ( Sorry for being inactive, I almost quit this morning i was having a moment,...) ENJOY !!!

You couldn’t contain your excitement. Today was Jake’s birthday, and you had something special planned with his closest friends, Sunghoon and Ni-ki. Jake was the type who’d do anything to make his friends happy, so this year, you wanted to make sure his birthday was one he’d never forget.

After a week of whispered phone calls and sneaky planning sessions, everything was finally coming together. You’d rented a cozy rooftop space downtown with fairy lights strung along the railings, a table set with his favorite snacks, and a small corner dedicated to photos of all the memories he’d made with his friends and with you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you and Jake’s friends finished up the last-minute details. Ni-ki, as usual, was cracking jokes while struggling with the balloons, while Sunghoon meticulously adjusted the lights, making sure everything looked perfect.

“You guys ready?” you asked, eyeing the setup with a smile.

Sunghoon nodded, taking a step back to survey their work. “He’s going to freak out when he sees this.”

“He’d better,” Ni-ki joked, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. “After all this effort, he owes us dinner for a year!”

Just as you all shared a laugh, you got a text from Jake. He was on his way, completely oblivious to the surprise waiting for him. The three of you scrambled to hide and take your places, shushing each other as you saw his silhouette coming up the stairs.

Jake opened the door, and as he stepped onto the rooftop, everyone jumped up and yelled, “SURPRISE!”

He froze, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. The fairy lights cast a warm glow, illuminating the table piled with his favorite treats and the wall of photos filled with moments of him laughing, goofing around, and sharing memories with his closest friends.

“Y/N? Sunghoon? Ni-ki?” he stammered, looking around in awe. “You guys… did all this?”

You stepped forward, beaming. “Happy Birthday, Jake! We wanted to make sure today was as amazing as you are.”

Jake's gaze softened, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “I don’t know what to say. This is… incredible.”

Ni-ki nudged him playfully. “Come on, Jake, don’t get too sappy. This rooftop rental wasn’t cheap!”

Everyone burst into laughter as Sunghoon handed him a small party hat. “Put it on,” he insisted, grinning. “Birthday boy rules.”

Jake obliged, chuckling as he let his friends shower him in confetti and hand him snacks. Eventually, he made his way over to the photo wall, his fingers brushing over the snapshots.

“Where did you find all of these?” he asked, his voice filled with nostalgia.

Sunghoon smirked, exchanging a knowing glance with you. “It wasn’t easy, but Y/N and I managed to dig some up from your old albums. Turns out, you have a lot of embarrassing baby photos.”

Jake turned to you, chuckling softly, his eyes shining. “I can’t believe you did all of this.”

“Of course I did,” you replied, stepping closer. “You’re worth every second of planning.”

As the night wore on, the four of you shared stories, laughed until your sides hurt, and reminisced about all the adventures you’d had together. Jake couldn’t stop smiling, his eyes lighting up every time he looked around at his friends.

Later, as the others gathered on the far side of the rooftop to argue over the playlist, Jake turned to you, his voice soft. “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Your heart fluttered, and you looked up at him, feeling the warmth in his gaze. “I’m just glad you’re happy, Jake.”

He gave you a shy smile, his hand finding yours. “I am. And it’s all because of you.”

The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth under the glow of the fairy lights, making a memory that you both knew you’d cherish forever.

The rooftop was quiet now, the fairy lights casting a soft glow over the scattered decorations as you and Jake stood side by side, watching the city lights below. Sunghoon and Ni-ki had just left, leaving you and Jake alone. You felt a flutter in your chest – the kind that only happened when it was just the two of you, sharing a quiet moment.

“Tonight was… perfect,” he murmured, his voice low. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining as he pulled you closer.

You looked up at him, your heart racing as you took in the soft look in his eyes. "I’m glad you had fun. You deserve it, Jake.”

He smiled, his gaze dropping to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy. And I think it’s mostly because of you.”

You swallowed, the intensity of his gaze making your skin tingle. The air between you felt charged, his thumb softly tracing circles on the back of your hand.

Jake gently lifted your chin, his face only inches from yours. "Thank you… for everything tonight." His voice was barely a whisper as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was slow, tender, his hand finding the small of your back and pulling you close.

The world seemed to melt away as his hands slipped around your waist, his warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. His lips moved with yours, gentle at first but growing more insistent as he deepened the kiss. You felt your knees weaken as he pressed you back gently against the rail, his hands framing your face.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I could get used to this," he murmured, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed softly, a little breathless. “Who says you have to stop?”

His eyes darkened, and his arms tightened around you. “Good,” he whispered, pulling you into another kiss, this time slower, more lingering – the kind of kiss that promised a night you’d both remember.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

( marsdql ) >.< !!

[rainysflowers]

Rainy answers this because it doesn't have enough people who would actually send in asks for an ask game so it'll just do it on it's own!!

1. What was the first anime you watched?

The first anime I ever watched was Pokemon Black and White when it aired on Disney XD. Ofc, at the time I didn't consider it an anime for whatever reason, and that has stuck with me forever, so when asked this question, I always answer with the one I consider to be really the first anime I watched. Ouran High School Host Club. Summer camp, awards ceremony, final day. My friend comes up to me and says, "Hey, have you heard about this show??" I said no, and went and watched it on Netflix. Instantly hooked. Kyoya was my favorite host, btw.

2. What was the first fandom you were involved in?

Pokemon and Warrior Cats. I 'wrote' fanfiction for Pokemon in my head since the age of zero, and made so many Warrior Cat OCs as a baby. Had a HUGE playlist of M.A.P.s too. Both of them had a long impact on my life going forwards, and I'm not entirely certain which came first.

3. What fandoms are you involved in right now?

Gosh, atm? Nothing specific. I've been in a depressive mood for a while so I haven't watched anything at all in a LOOONNNGGGGGGG time. It's sad, to be honest.

4. Who is your favorite character from Lost Universe and why?

DAMN, putting me on the spot right away, god. Okay, so LU is a spin-off of Slayers and I have to be honest, I don't have a favorite character from it, mostly because it's not all that much of a favorite anime to me in general, BUT for the sake of this question, I think Rayl would probably be the one I like the most. Tho, that's cuz he's kinda aimed to be the Xellos of the anime...

5. Who is your least favorite character from GetBackers and why?

Easy. Drunk Vash. I, uh, don't know his name, but if you've seen the anime he's the other blond older man with light powers who shows up in the second half. To be fair, I hate the second half period, as it feels like a retread of all the cool stuff they did with Maku-chan and the Fortress in the first half, but I also think that Drunk Vash is just boring. The random assholes he brings along are boing (Not Toshiki, I respect his manga characterization), his motives are boring, and his ending is boring. And that's coming from someone who hate the manga's ending!!

6. How do you feel about Boa Hanncock from One Piece and why?

Of course the wheel chooses the long asf anime, smh. I'll have you know I put a decent amount of people on the other wheel. I hate her. I cannot stand her. I want her to go away. Great, very sad story though!! Okay, seriously, I HATE Boa, I hate her probably more than I hate any of the other characters that I hate. She kicks small animals, she's a dick, she's vain, and I hate her. She has a beautifully tragic and traumatic backstory I love. I love the symbolism of it that she has to carry, and how that has affected her into her later life. I cannot stand her. That should summaries how I feel about her.

7. What color do you associate with Zelgadis from Slayers?

Hmm, I'd have to say lighter blue. Not light blue, just a lighter blue. A grossly dusty and depressingly grey lighter blue. It is his skin color, so that's little surprise. But other than that, maybe a little bit of yellow. The sickly bright eyes of a creature watching you from the woods, stalking your every move. Will it attack you with its monstrous teeth and blood-stained claws, or is it making sure that you can't hurt it like everyone else whose come to this forest?

8. Have you read the manga for Ghost Slayers Ayashi?

Actually, I have not. I do own it, it's a two volume series, and I have an extra volume one that came with the collector's box set for the anime, but I haven't read it yet. I should, GSA is pitifully under stocked with content.

9. What is your favorite anime op?

I don't really think about this all that often, but if I had to choose, I'd probably say Death Note OP 2, What's Up People. Its fun. Other than that, We Are from One Piece.

10. What is your favorite anime ed?

Have a Nice Music!! from Show by Rock!!, or Revolution from Slayers Evolution-R. Mostly the latter.

11. Who is your favorite character to write for?

I think it'll have to be Xellos. That's hard to say, but I do really enjoy writing about them interacting with other characters, and they're one of my ONLY antagonistic characters I write for. Writing their world view as the Slayers equivalent of a higher demon is fun, and I just love using their character voice in the things I make.

12. What is your favorite headcanon for Crow from Show by Rock!!?

Oh boy. I'm not super fond of Crow, personally, I don't think about him too often, but if I had to choose something, it'd probably be that he actually does care about Aion, but just teases him cuz he feels like it. Basic, I know, but this headcanon applies more towards various fics and AUs I like to write. Most of them deathfics. A large through point is Aion breaking down to any degree and isolating or removing himself from the group, which causes the tri to go and find him. I usually like to have Crow most affected by this when I am writing him because it's a good contrast.

13. What is your favorite character to read fics about?

I don't have an all time favorite character to read for, but I do have characters who I like to see focused on in the fic, if that makes sense. There's not one that's more than the others, tho, cuz I usually read fics fandom by fandom. Character's I prefer to have a focus on (NOT THEIR POV THO) are: - Xellos (Slayers) - Ban (GetBackers) - Jack (L/R) - Sanji (One Piece) - Yoji (Weiss Kreuz) - ECT... Basically look at a list of my favs and you get the point. Funny enough they're also all my favs to read about dying er uh who said that!!

14. What is your favorite ship from Death Note?

Oh no. Why would it land on this. Oh well. If I have to admit it, I do really like Light/L, but not in a super sexual or even romantic way. I like them more as a fucked up, evil dynamic that can't be quantified, like 'love and hate are both the same' type sentiments. I particularly like them ship-wise when in a No Kira!Cops! AU I have, because it allows me to mess with them not liking one another BEYOND the scope of being a serial killer and a cop. Other than that, and a worthy mention, I also like Misa/L, both in canon and in that AU I mentioned. I just think it could be cute :3 No Light/Misa tho, not in canon most certainly, it skeeves me out

15. What is your least favorite ship from L/R: Licensed by Royalty?

Time to sound awful. Uh... I don't really like Claire/Rowe... I don't want you to get the wrong idea, they're fine, I'm just not into their chemistry. It's not something that I would enjoy writing about or consuming solely. That's mostly because I ship the boys, Jack/Rowe, the non-canon gay ship, but I really don't mind seeing Claire/Rowe in general. I'm just not into it. I don't really have strong feelings on characters outside of the main three (Jack, Rowe, Noelle) in this anime so the two being in a relationship means I'm not interested in half of it and it's hard for me to engage with it. Sorry two other L/R fans on Earth :P

16. What ship will you go down with?

... Okay, uh... this is weird, but my fav fav fav ship is Shuu★Zo/Aion from Show by Rock!! It's an enemies-to-lovers ship with two character who I don't believe have ever spoken before once... BUT I have this AU. So in the show, Aion ends up possessed by a negativity demon, and wanders to the roof of a very tall building (He seeks out high places when distressed, he's very mentally ill). Shuu notices and tells Aion's band where to find him. In the AU, it's Shuu who goes and saves Aion instead of the band, and they grow closer after this, which is hindered by the fact they are in dueling, opposite genre bands (Aion is vkei, Shuu is jpop). I love them so much.

17. Who is currently your main comfort/emotional support character?

I have like five million but a sold fall back is Xellos from Slayers. I don't know why, but something made me gravitate towards them and it was never the same after that. Other notable ones are, like, Ban from GetBackers or maybe L from Death Note, but Xel is def the all time fav.

18. What is a comfort character you have that makes other people go ??? "Really?" 

I honestly can't think of anyone that would fit that description, but I like Kiriko from Black Jack and I think that he might be one of the weirder ones?? He's an old man twink who does euthanasia, but he's got a good story and I like that he just shows up sometimes lol.

19. Have you used a quote from an anime/manga in a relevant situation?

Nope. I have referenced the plots of anime/manga in situations before, however, like when I let made my friend explain the semantics of Minecraft Parkour Civilization just to say "OMG that's like GetBackers :3"

20. What anime food would you like to try?

L's strawberry shortcake from Death Note. It's a weird choice, right, but it just looks sooooo good. Perfect strawberry, good looking cake, and it's L's!! What's more to ask for?? Or I'd like Sanji from One Piece to make me something. Anything at all, I just wanna see what he'd give me.

21. What anime place would you like to visit?

Not an anime place, but omfg take me to Sapporo or Okinawa. They are soooooo pretty in Yakuza 3 & Yakuza 5 respectively, I wanna go NOW!!!!!!! But if I'm allowed to choose a fictional anime place then probably... I think I'd like to go to Shinjuku cuz Count D from Pet Shop of Horrors: Tokyo is there and the GetBackers boys are there too. I'd like to meet with them.

22. What anime animal would you like as your pet?

I feel like I'd rather BE an anime animal more than having any that I WANT, but if I had to choose, then... The person I reblogged this from makes a good point with an eevee from Pokemon. I kinda want a persacom from Chobits but thats not really an animal...

23. What anime movie is your favorite?

I don't watch many anime movies, but I guess if I had to choose one it would probably be either the Castle of Cagliostro or The First, both from Lupin the Third. Great films really, each extremely well animated and easy to get into... well... Cagliostro is, not so sure about The First... BUT you should still watch them, they're wonderful!!

24. What is the saddest anime you have watched?

Trigun 98. By far. Saddest shit you will EVER see, I highly recommend it. It starts off really fun and goofy, but as you get into it, the anime slowly creeps in its depressing things until you get halfway in and its game over from then on. You will watch Vash cry at least once per episode, and you will watch as he is broken down mentally and physically till he's nearly nothing. Great show, tbh.

My overly sepcific ask game with questions no one wants an answer to

Alternative title: things I want people to ask me but no one does

What was the first anime you watched?

What was the first fandom you were involved in?

What fandoms are you involved in right now?

Who is your favorite character from (anime) and why?

Who is your least favorite character from (anime) and why?

How do you feel about (character) and why?

What color do you associate with (character)?

Have you read the manga for (anime)?

What is your favorite anime op?

What is your favorite anime ed?

Who is your favorite character to write for?

What is your favorite headcanon for (character)?

What is your favorite character to read fics about?

What is your favorite ship (from a specific anime or in general)

What is your least favorite ship (from a specific anime or in general)

What ship will you go down with?

Who is currently your main comfort/emotional support character?

What is a comfort character you have that makes other people go ??? "Really?" 

Have you used a quote from an anime/manga in a relevant situation?

What anime food would you like to try?

What anime place would you like to visit?

What anime animal would you like as your pet?

What anime movie is your favorite?

What is the saddest anime you have watched?

This took me forever to make please don't let this flop

[beardysuits]

Bulking Up pt 1

Ian, just the sight of him inspired conflicting emotions ranging from rage, to jealousy, to desire, to lust. Ian was the pretty boy of the office and the boss's favorite. He could literally do no wrong, and yet, I was probably the only one who knew what he was really like. See Ian and I went to college together and even participated in the same internship program. He and I also had to share the same job duties, schedule, and workload. Only Ian decided his time wasn't worth the work and decided it was up to me to do the work for both of us. Obviously initially I told him absolutely no way, but that all changed when he got some dirt on me.

Mr. Galveston was head of the law firm Ian and I worked at and if we were tasked with naming the first three words which came to mind when we though of him, it would be intimidating, big, and daddy. Despite running an entire firm and raising three kids, Mr. Galveston still seemed to have the time to run every morning and lift weights. It helped too that he was graced with the hairline of a 20-year old and the skin I'm sure he had to perform a ritual sacrifice to obtain. As you can imagine, I had spent many late nights fantasizing about him, he was prime spank bank material! Unfortunately those late nights alone were not enough for me and my stupid horny brain.

I may have definitely broken some HR guidelines. One day we had a meeting where Mr. Galveston had praised my latest work and it ended with a "good job son". My cock immediately got hard and I had to adjust myself as discreetly as possible. As soon as the meeting concluded, I had to excuse myself and run to the bathroom to pump one out. What I didn't realize is that Ian had followed me, peaked over the stall door and snapped a photo of me, hand gripping my cock and cumming all over the toilet bowl.

"Say cheese," he said to me. The cheeky bastard. I begged Ian not to tell anybody what I had done and he agreed, for a price. So, that was how I got stuck working later and later hours to get the work done for both of us, while Ian sat on his ass all day flirting with our female colleagues. And the worst part about it? If Ian in some weird twist of character told me to get on my knees and blow him, I would still say yes in a heartbeat. I mean, he was built like a god. 6 pack, veiny arms, pecs like an olympian. He was a fucking model and he knew it. Meanwhile there was me, pudgy, couldn't grow a beard to save my life, and just short enough for him to call me munchkin as he held his hand out for his work. I hated his guts.

It was a typical Tuesday night at the office and I had ordered myself a pizza, which I ate at my desk while wrapping up my work and about to start Ian's. I glanced at the clock. 6 PM. I should have been able to leave an hour ago, but got held up doing some data entry Ian was tasked with at noon. Now I still had a stack of papers for him to get started on. There was a rap of knuckles at front of my desk. I looked up to find Tabitha, the office kook. She was a nice enough woman, but she certainly didn't have too many people speak with her for a reason.

"Marty, what are you doing here so late?" she asked me. I swallowed my latest bite and cleared my throat.

"Just need to finish some things here and I'll be heading out. What about you?" I asked her. She sighed and twirled the medallion she always wore around her neck.

"Catching up from my vacation. Being gone a week lets things pile up. Oh, but what I wouldn't do to return to Europe in a second..." she droned on and on about her trip, which I had heard about three times already. But, she was also one of the few people to be genuinely kind to me, so I let her ramble while I set Ian's work aside.

"Oh and goodness! I almost forgot! How could I?" he said, startling me awake after I had zoned out. She pulled her purse forward and fished around in it before holding her closed hand out to me.

"I found this little beauty while I was out there. There's a small village out in the countryside which is said to be the ancient home of witches. I saw this and just thought of you," she said. She opened up her hand, and in her palm was... a rock.

It was a pretty rock, don't get me wrong. It shone and had shimmers of jade green crackling along it's flat surface. But again, it was a rock.

"Oh wow Tabitha that's... beautiful," I told her. She nodded, took my hand, and placed the rock in my palm.

"It's said to be a wishing stone. You hold it close to your heart, wish your deepest desire to it, and place it under your pillow. It's said those who are truly worth of their wish will have it come true."

I twirled the rock around in my hand before setting it on the desk.

"Thank you Tabitha, that's very sweet of you," I told her. I really was touched she thought so nicely of me.

"Well, make sure you have that wish be a good one. Maybe even get you out of here a little earlier next time," she said with a wink. "I have to go home to the cats though, you find your way out of here soon, okay?"

I waved her off as she went the door. I got back to Ian's paperwork, but found it hard to concentrate. The stone kept catching my attention. It was like it caught the light at every angle and shone its shimmering green gaze back at me. About an hour later, I gave up and left Ian's work half done.

Once I was home, I slumped on the couch and turned on some TV. I couldn't even focus on the most mindless of shows though. Every thought came back to the stone. I fished it out of my pocket and turned it through my fingers. Wish on the stone and it would come true, yeah right....

I could see my reflection in the window next to the couch and sighed. My glasses were askew and somehow I didn't notice. I adjusted them and saw a pudgy little geek, still in his work suit, too tired to even take it off. I pushed at my belly, which for the past few weeks kept pushing harder and hard to get out of this tight button down shirt. Sighing, I looked at the stone. Why not?

I wish... I wish I could have what Ian has.

Of course that's where my mind went. Ian had it all. Looks, charm, and now a little nerd doing all of his work for him. My eyes became incredibly heavy and it was like I got hit with a tranquilizer. No surprise, working late hours had become the norm. My hand slumped behind the couch cushion and not a second later, I slumped off to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ringing of my phone fluttered my eyes open. I grumbled trying to find it in the depths of the couch cushions. Eventually I found it stuck deep in the back. I held it up and turned off my alarm I had set. 6 am, perfect time to be awake. I tried to open my phone through half closed eyes. It had facial recognition, but the stupid thing couldn't catch on to my face. I retired a few times before it prompted me to put in the passcode. I fumbled with it some before finally getting in, and going over some emails. I stumbled off the couch and shuffled to the bathroom.

I had to find some Tylenol, I had a killer headache. I was just about to reach the bathroom when I felt something catch on my feet and force me down. I crashed to the ground and groaned. Fuck... what the fuck even happened? I turned around and saw my pants around my ankles. Or... wait what? I could see down my legs, which were half the size in girth, but twice the size in length. That's... a trick of the morning grog right?

I turned myself around to sit on the ground and looked my legs up and down. They were hairier than before, and the skin was taut with muscles spreading across the curvature of my calves. Holy shit what the fuck was going on? I panicked standing up, kicking off my pants in the process. Rushing to the bathroom, I threw the lights on and was met with Ian in the reflection!

Holy fuck!

I grabbed at my cheeks and pulled at them, which Ian mirrored perfectly in the reflection. Grabbing at my chest through the now oversized shirt, I patted myself, feeling a rock-hard torso in return. I gripped at the button and ripped it open, sending the buttons flying across the bathroom floor. I was met with Ian's muscles greeting me. Tracing my (Ian's?) fingers over them, I felt a shiver run down my spine. Oh my god, I was Ian! Almost instinctively, my fingers rubbed over his nipples and I could feel the same shiver race down my body.

I looked down and found Ian's cock flopping, not even attempting to be contained my XXL underwear that was at least three sizes too big now. My hand was trembling as I slipped the boxers down and found his veiny cock fly almost wildly.

It had just as many veins as his arms did and was almost as thick as them it felt like. I took my new hands and gripped the shaft, it felt so natural to be holding on to it. Even a couple of strokes in and I found out that Ian was quick to precum. My new cock was instantly lathered up as I slicked it back and forth, each pump making his cock feel even girthier somehow.

I laid one of his hands down on the bathroom counter and looked at myself. Ian was hunched over, stroking his cock and smiling mischievously at me.

"Oh fuck daddy, that feels so good," I said without even thinking. "Ohhhh... FUCK Mr. Galveston, pound my tight hole!" I yelled. I thrusted myself back and forth, fantasizing about my boss bucking my hips as he plowed his thick daddy dick deep into Ian.

"Harder! Faster! That's right sir, breed meeeeee," I begged. I bit my lip and made Ian look back at my pathetically. Oh if I could only get Mr. Galveston to ACTUALLY fuck my new hole, make me his little bitch. I pumped harder and harder, fucking my new hand. I could feel the cum build until eventually climax hit.

I let go of my cock and moaned as loud as I could, feeling Ian's cock spray his delicious cum all over the bathroom. It was like a fire hose was set loose, letting streams spray around the room. Each bit hit harder than the last. Eventually I was left standing in the bathroom, breathing heavily and watching as Ian tried to stand up straight after spraying his essence everywhere.

Once I got control of myself again, I peered into the mirror and saw through the drips of cum, Ian's face elated. I couldn't help but smile at my new face and body, now ready to take on the world. I stuck my tongue out and lapped at the cum which was beginning to run down the mirror's face. It tasted so fucking good, like pure masculinity was captured in a liquid state.

Watching Ian become my little lap dog at my bidding made me horny all over again. This was just me going solo, wait until I use my phone to download Grindr and see what fresh pieces of meat want a slice of Ian! Speaking of my phone, it started to rumble on the counter. I picked it up and my heart sank, it was Ian. I cleared my throat, trying to emulate my old voice before answering.

"Uhh.. he-hello?" I choked out.

"What did you do you son of a bitch?!" Pierced through the other line. I coughed again.

"Ian? What's going on?" I asked.

"Like you don't fucking know! What do you look like right now? Who the fuck are you?!"

I recognized the voice, it was mine! Oh shit, I didn't just become Ian, we swapped!

"Ian, I gotta come clean, I'm you," I told him. What was the point in hiding it?

"What. Did. You. DO!?" He screeched. Damn, was my voice always that high pitched? It was whiny and pathetic.

"First off, I didn't do anything! I just woke up and found myself like this. Secondly, calm down, we'll figure this out. Just... just get dressed and get to the office. We'll figure it out there, we need to act normal," I told him.

"Oh yeah fucking right! What the fuck am I supposed to wear? All I have here are my clothes and your fat fuck of a body sure as shit isn't going to fit in them!"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," I said. "Listen, the sooner you get there, the sooner we figure this out. Better get dressed munchkin." Calling me by my old nickname felt empowering in some way. Before he could retaliate, I hung up the phone on him. Looking at myself back in the mirror and grinned back.

"Yeah, like I'd ever give this up," I said. But, I should probably get dressed and meet up with him. Looks like it's going to be a fun day. Now, let's see if I can find anything tight enough to show off this body.

[felassan]

Polygon: 'How Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s writers decided each companion’s romance arc'

Rest of post under a cut due to spoilers.

“There’s so many different flavors of romances with the characters that even if one doesn’t work for you, one of them I think is likely to,” creative director John Epler told Polygon. “But they’re so tied to the character arcs that they become part of that character development as opposed to ‘and also you can romance them on the side.’” For instance, Epler said, Bellara’s romance is purposefully awkward and stilted. (“As Bellara’s writer, I’m very familiar with it,” he added.) “It’s clearly somebody who doesn’t see themselves as someone people are going to want to romance,” he said. “And so one of my favorite things is paying Bellara a compliment, and she takes it in the most awkward [way]. Because she herself as a character, and something you see through her arc, has these issues with how she sees herself, especially after what happened in her past. And so that romance kind of plays off of that as somebody who does have, I wouldn’t say necessarily low self-esteem, but has issues with self-regard. This is how that romance goes, especially if they are themselves a very awkward character.” Meanwhile, Lucanis — who joins the party after you rescue him from an underwater prison where he was tortured for a year after someone in his inner circle betrayed him — has a long road ahead of him in terms of opening up and letting others in. (That also means the results of one big early game choice might cut him off entirely.) “[He] has an arc that’s very much about family and letting people get close and seeing what happens,” said Epler. “And so with his romance, you get more of a slow burn where it doesn’t feel like you’re ever getting quite as close to him as maybe you want until the very end.” In addition to the player-chosen romance arcs, some companions you haven’t chosen to romance might enter romantic relationships with one another (or in the case of one character, with an NPC that isn’t in your party). This isn’t the first time non-romanced party members get together: A fan favorite, for example, is Qunari mercenary Iron Bull and Tevinter mage Dorian Pavus in Dragon Age: Inquisition. But Veilguard has more opportunity than ever before for these side romances to blossom. It all came down, once again, to what made sense for these characters’ own arcs. Bellara doesn’t romance anyone outside of Rook because, as Epler said, she is a “very focused person with a very specific obsession.” Romance isn’t exactly on the top of her mind. For Taash and Harding, however, a romance made perfect sense — both characters navigate accepting who they are and how that fits in with what they thought they knew about the communities and cultures they hail from."

“I think one of my favorite parts of that arc is how much compatibility comes through as you go through their arcs and you realize these are two people […] broken in ways that are so complementary to allow them to heal each other,” said Epler. “They end up developing this very lovely relationship, lovely romance that makes sense for the both of them.” Players might understandably want to go into the game without any spoilers about what characters might get together. But if you’re heading into your second playthrough and you already know more about what the characters’ relationships with one another look like, making decisions might take on a whole new level of significance. That was definitely the case for game director Corinne Busche. “What I love about those developments is that it really gives us some interesting and compelling decision-making about the choices and the consequences within the game,” she told us. “[The relationships] have an extra level, I think, for the decision making. I don’t want to get into spoilers, but there was a moment where I set the controller down and had to go, Oh my God, how can I possibly make this decision knowing what I know of these two characters and how they feel about each other? Oh, it just really makes it hit.” There’s a lot of emphasis on the inter-character relationships in Veilguard. Not only is there the usual party banter while out and about in the world, but you can also stumble upon conversations between characters back at your home base, mitigate disagreements between them, and read codex entries about their book club meetings, cooking rotation, and other things. It makes sense that writing interactions between these companions might spark some ideas for the writers. “It really does come down to who makes the most sense for these characters and who as the writers we are excited about pairing up,” said Epler. “Because I think something people forget is […] well, it’s not technically fanfiction. It’s the same impetus that drives fanfiction where you’re like, Who are the characters we love the most and who do we want to see together? Who do we think makes the most sense as a couple? And then playing with that and seeing if it actually does make sense.”

[source]

[theformulaimagines]

Look at that woman (breaking my heart) | part one

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Vettel!Reader

Summary: For one and a half years Lewis and y/n managed to keep their relationship a secret, until it blew up in their faces. Now, they're trying their hardest to pick up the pieces...

Warnings: age gap (reader is 27), heat!!!!, other drivers are mentioned, tiny bit of angst, english isn’t my first language

Prologue

That night…

“As much as I absolutely adore you guys.”, Y/N says as she joins the group, her lips connecting with her champagne glass:” This party is super boring.” The men all look at her, while some eyes make their way up and down her body. One more often than the others.

“Well, I don’t think it’s that-.”, poor Lando gets cut off almost immediately. “I know that this is your first party, considering how they didn’t host them during Covid, however, believe me- back in the good old days these summer parties were the main event of the year for us.”

“Don’t say it like that.”, Lewis scoffs softly, furrowing his eyebrows in distress:” ‘Good old days’, please. Don’t make it sound like we’re in our sixties now.” George giggles.

“Anyway, Lando. When my brother was an active driver, we used to steal a bunch of champagne bottles and hide out in the Ferrari garage.” Her eyes shift back to Lewis, and she stares at him for a moment:” Don’t make that face.”

“What face? I’m not making a face.”, he blinks in confusion. Y/N shakes her headc while holding her index finger up at him: “Don’t act like you weren’t the main burglar back then. Sneaking behind the bar and just handing those bottles over to me like your life depended on it.” At that, all the other drivers in the group laugh out loud. “That was the old, alcoholic me.”, Lewis explains, his eyes scanning her features- almost as if he’s searching for something he can’t quite put the finger on.

“Well, what’s stopping us from doing that again?”

“Wait what?”, Charles asks and exchanges looks with the men around him:” Are you implying we-.” “Bingo.”, she takes another sip of her drink. There’s just something about the way Lewis looks at her side profile that makes her knees weak…he has been staring a lot lately. After a few seconds, Lando is the first one to react, he nods almost violently:” Okay, well- I mean, why not? Could be fun! Lewis and Y/N, you go get the bottles, and the rest of us-? I don’t know. We just distract the others?”

Lewis nods:” Well, yeah. Sure.” He chuckles as he notices the smile emerging on his best friend’s face and the woman quickly sets her glass down on the closest table :” We’ll meet you guys at the exit in five.”

Y/N can sense his presence close behind her. She doesn’t have to turn around to check. His brown eyes are moving down her backless dress and he subconsciously wets his lips at the scenery in front of him. “What’s so funny?“, he asks, as if he knew she was silently giggling to herself.

“Oh, nothing.”, Y/N replies as they reach the bar. The y/h/ced woman quickly leans over and grabs two bottles before shoving them into his hands. Then she takes two more. “You’re still good at this, aren’t you?”, he asks, voice low. “Only when it comes to expensive things. Now, let’s hurry.”

landonorris has made a post

liked by y/nvettel, mclaren, f1 and 378,500 others

landonorris: first f1 summer party- many more to come 🥂🥂

view all comments…

user 1: 😍😍

user 2: hes so fine GOD

y/nvettel: cheers 🙂‍↕️🥂

user 3: my favorite 🤩

user 4: is it true that y/n and lewis left together

user 5: please you guys are starting to sound ridiculous they’ve been friends since forever

user 6: @/user 5 thank you!!! plus friends don’t date their friends younger siblings

user 7: @/user 6 yeah they do

mercedesamgf1: that garage sign looks familiar 👀

“I think we should head out.”, Lando lets out and yawns, pointing at the clock on the wall. 03:56 am. A soft sigh leaves Y/N's lips while she eyes how the men all get up from their spots on the floor.

“Wait, you’re all leaving?”, she asks, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “I don’t think Lewis is.”, Charles says and cracks his neck. Y/N turns her head to look at her best friend who merely shakes his head.

“Well, okay. Yeah, sleep tight you guys.”

A silence falls on the garage, as the sounds of the voices and footsteps gradually fade away. “I like your outfit, by the way.”, she suddenly declares, cringing as soon as those words leave her lips. She doesn’t understand why she’s becoming so nervous around Lewis- it’s only Lewis, right?

He chuckles:” Thanks. It’s the new collection.” Y/N's gaze falls to the glass in her hands.

“You look stunning.”, he whispers, and when their eyes meet again Y/N suddenly understands why she has been feeling so strange around him recently. “This is going to sound creepy.”, she clears her dry throat:” But I’ve read your latest Vogue interview, where you said-.”

“I like black dresses.”, he cuts her off, eyes once again roaming her body:” You’re trying to impress me?” He knows the answer already. “Well, what kind of impression are you trying to make?”

The younger woman chuckles softly:” A good one.”

“Ans you’re successful. You look unbelievable.”

There’s a line. And they both know it.

Y/N takes another sip of her drink while peeking out of the garage door and into the night sky. She shouldn’t be doing this, she really shouldn’t. Instead, she should be getting up and leaving. Walk away before she does something extremely stupid.

“Can I ask you something?”, Lewis tilts his head. “Of course, yeah. Always.”, Y/N tears her gaze off the stars and looks back at one of her brother’s oldest friends. She should leave.

“What’s your end goal here?”

”I think we both know what my end goal is.”

[mushynka]

This story is intended for mature audiences (18+). Please note that English is not my first language, so there might be some language errors or awkward phrasing in the text sometimes. Feel free to correct me in the comments. I am still learning english so pls. try not to make too much fun out of me. Additionally, this story may not strictly follow the events as depicted in Marvel films or comics and contains creative deviations. I kindly ask that you do not copy or redistribute my work without permission. Yes. I know it's cringe lmao. Enjoy anyway!

𝘛𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦: 𝘚𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘶𝘻𝘻𝘺 𝘙𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴: 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮. 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 * 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪��𝘦, 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘪𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵 (𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰)

Logan grumbled as he rifled through the dresser drawers, the absence of a single clean sock taunting him. The once-sizable stash had dwindled down to nothing but empty fabric and lint. The problem was that laundry had somehow become an occasional activity—one he only ever thought about whenever he was completely out of clean clothes. And tonight, with a dinner he didn't even want to go to, he found himself in a small predicament.

He shot a quick look at the bathroom door, slightly ajar, where you had your usual mountain of colorful socks scattered around. They were yours, of course, and didn’t exactly scream “Pick us, Logan!”—there was the orange pair with tiny foxes, a light green set with smiling avocados, and, right in the front, a fluffy pink pair with large white polka dots.

With a quick, mischievous grin, he grabbed the pink polka-dotted pair and tugged them on. Soft and fuzzy, they were surprisingly warm and soft, tickling his feet a bit. He chuckled to himself, picturing how you’d probably roll your eyes if you'll saw him in these. But it was a harmless little act of rebellion. No one at this dinner was going to see his socks, anyway.

After all, Logan had no plans of showing up sock-less just to prove a point. Not that this dinner was high on his list of favorite ways to spend an evening: in fact, he’d tried to dodge it altogether. But you gived him that look—the one that softened his iron resolve like butter under a warm sun. And so, he’d reluctantly agreed to join you and your friends.

“Logan?” Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts. You were standing in the doorway, dressed in that emerald green top he loved. The color made your eyes shine, and you looked… perfect. The kind of perfect that made his heart clench a little every time.

“Almost ready,” he muttered, pulling on his jeans and a casual shirt that had somehow passed your inspection earlier. But as you looked him over, a smile tugged at your lips.

“Nice and sharp. You sure you’re feeling alright?” you teased, knowing how rare it was for him to even consider being "presentable".

He scoffed. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he replied with just enough sarcasm to make you laugh. And for a brief moment, you reached up, pulling him into a quick, warm kiss that left him feeling a little less grumpy.

When you two finally arrived at the place where your friends were hosting dinner, Logan was a little surprised by how friendly everyone was. They greeted you with hugs and smiles, clearly thrilled to see Logan. He mostly hung back, content to observe. The conversation flowed easily, though the mention of certain cultural quirks started to make him just a bit uneasy.

“Over here, we like to keep our shoes by the door,” your friend, Sofia, mentioned casually, pointing at the line of shoes neatly placed by the entrance.

Logan’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his gaze dropping to his feet. He’d left the comfort of his own home wearing socks that looked like a child’s fuzzy teddy bear collection. He glanced up pleading silently, but you were too busy with your friends and their newborn to notice.

His options dwindling by the second, Logan reluctantly tugged off his boots, revealing the soft, pink fuzziness for all to see. Sofia, stopped in her tracks, raising an eyebrow as she took in the sight of the man—big, tough, battle-hardened Logan—now standing in those pink, fluffy socks. Sofia’s husband tried to keep a straight face, but it was clear from the way their eyes met that they were both barely holding back laughter.

“Logan,” Sofia said, with feigned seriousness, “those are… quite the socks. I really like your approach to fashion.”

Logan grumbled under his breath, trying to ignore the teasing. "Yeah, well, they're comfy," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and attempting to look as tough as possible, even while wearing the most ridiculous socks imaginable.

Sofia smirked but decided to be kind. “Don’t worry, Logan. We’re all friends here. No judgment.”

But Logan could tell that everyone was trying hard not to laugh, and the whole situation was starting to get on his nerves. He shifted uncomfortably, but then he felt a gentle touch on his arm.

It was you. You leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, voice soft but reassuring. “You look great."

Logan's eyes softened as he turned to face you. The teasing from your friends wasn’t so bad, especially with you by his side.

“You really think so?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the gruffness melting away for just a moment.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind ear. “I know so. Besides, I think they suit you,” you teased, reaching down to lightly tug at the top of the pink socks. “You’re the only man I know who could pull off pink polka-dots and still look... well, like Logan.”

Logan smirked at that, his usual tough exterior softening just a bit. “Yeah, well, maybe next time I’ll wear something even more ridiculous. Maybe rainbow-colored ones,” he said, raising an eyebrow playfully.

As dinner went on, Logan found himself actually enjoying the evening. Your friends were kind and welcoming, and despite their playful jabs about his socks, he could tell they liked him. Even Sofia, who had started the teasing, couldn’t help but offer a few compliments as the night wore on.

“Well, this has been fun,” Sofia said, giving Logan an apologetic smile. “And, seriously, those socks were the highlight of my night.”

Logan chuckled, feeling the tension finally slip away. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replied, earning a laugh from the group.

As everyone said their goodbyes, Logan felt a tug on his arm. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” you said. “I think we both deserve a quiet night.”

Logan nodded, his heart light. “You’re right. Let’s go home.”

As you stepped out into the cool night air, Logan glanced down at his pink socks again perking shyly from his leather shoes. This time, instead of feeling embarrassed, he simply smiled.

“You know,” he said as you two walked hand in hand, “I might just keep these socks. They’ve got a certain... charm.”

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand.

“You think I could wear these with hello kitty next time...?”

This fic was created thanks to this meme:

(Tell me it's not giving Logan vibe, I dare you)

God bless the memes ❤️

[hrrtshape]

FAME DR — stuff i'm always losin' !

⋆  favourite lipstick (the perfect shade, only ever to be found days later in a jacket pocket).

⋆  phone chargers, especially in hotel rooms or studios.

⋆  my absolute favourite pair of sunglasses—gone the second i’m not paying attention.

⋆  random half-finished coffee cups, left on set or in my car.

⋆  perfume bottles that are somehow always running low.

⋆  that one lucky bracelet i swear makes me feel iconic. it just does. it just does. 

⋆  hair ties, especially the one that perfectly matches my outfit.

⋆  press passes for events (always finding them days later in my bag).

⋆  designer gloves, left in every other restaurant, hotel, car or fitting room.

⋆  lighter (i have, like, seven, maybe even 8, and somehow never one on hand). i end up going to have to go to a grocery shop & buying an 89 cent lighter. 

⋆  that compact mirror i carry everywhere…except when i need it.

⋆  back up lip glosses i swear by (popping up in every place i don’t need them. am i cursed ?).

⋆  half-finished notebooks where i jot down song lyrics or inspo.

⋆  make up wipes (crucial when i require them…lost every time).

⋆  my go-to scrunchie, borrowed from set and then poof vanished.

⋆  an endless number of favourite pens, because writing my autograph takes practice.

⋆  receipt piles i keep meaning to look through (but they disappear the second i need one).

⋆  earrings (especially the second one in every set).

⋆  water bottles—i start every day with one, and by night it’s nowhere to be found.

⋆  headphones or airpods, left in every purse, bag, or jacket.

⋆  polaroids from the day’s shoots, just left scattered around like happy accidents.

⋆  sticky notes with random ideas, song titles, or journaling bits that show up at the most random times.

⋆  chewing gum or mints for red carpet events (half-used, left somewhere mid-day).

⋆  that particular shade of nail polish i swear i’d find on the go.

⋆  little handwritten notes from fans that i keep meaning to organise but get spread everywhere.

⋆  my “calm down” crystal (always having a mini panic until it shows up).

⋆  USB drives with early track demos or interview clips.

⋆  hairbrushes (one in every location, but mysteriously gone by the end of the day).

⋆  ID cards or VIP passes that go missing right before i need them.

⋆  stacks of fan letters i keep meaning to sort but somehow never have on hand when i try to.

⋆  my “good vibes only” tote bag, which somehow manages to disappear on every casual outing.

⋆  personalised coffee cup with my name in gold ink, lost in a different café every week.

⋆  the second (and third) copies of my unreleased track list, tucked away in random purses.

⋆  a mini fragrance collection that vanishes into thin air…one by one.

⋆  all those press clippings i keep meaning to save but just end up leaving everywhere.

⋆  my handwritten list of celeb crushes, i would be mortified if anyone found.

⋆  the little journal where i write down all the “notes to self” for future fame pep talks.

⋆  favorite pair of “chill” slippers that i swear by, only to realise they’re in a different hotel room. in a different country. in a different continent. 

⋆  tickets from events i wanted to keep “for memories” but keep finding in random bags.

⋆  my actual planner, which has all the red carpet prep notes i should be looking at.

⋆  lucky keychain that once belonged to some legend—i keep it close, then lose it right before major events.

⋆  a pile of those little hotel shampoos or lotions i adore—scattered like confetti in my bags.

⋆  the only lip balm that perfectly moisturises (it’s always MIA mid-interview).

[bg12sofia]

Day 30: Free Choice Day

Since today is the Free Choice Day and From Zero release day, I'd like to go off the rules here and leave a few words, 30 days of challenge, one Linkin Park show and one listening party later:

This is our second chance.

Linkin Park has been all about second chances for a while now, even if not directly initially. It's not the first time I mention Hybrid Theory the Portuguese tribute and it probably it won't be the last. They changed my life, got me a community, a family even among their fans. They were my second chance. A second chance to hear Linkin Park music on a concert setting, at a time when the OG band wasn't playing. Also, as someone who barely made and kept friends for the previous almost twenty years, they were my second chance to learn how to make them again, as an insecure thirty-something.

I know Hybrid Theory also represented a second chance for other people. For the members themselves, I'm pretty sure it was a second chance for making a living in music, after a few failed attempts. Also for other HT fans. The band gave a few forty-somethings or fifty-somethings a chance to go out, to have fun at shows, meet people, be young again. For two friends of mine, a married couple, the band gave them opportunities to do more stuff together as a couple, after the birth of their son. And I know of at least one couple that met through Hybrid Theory.

And now Linkin Park themselves are getting their second chance. A chance to create and put out music, to play shows, to be a band again. Emily is getting a second go at music, a second band, at 38. Many fans who didn't get to see Linkin Park live before Chester died, but now the band is back on the road and those fans have new chances. And I'm getting a second chance to see my favorite band being a band again – when there were times over the last seven years where I thought it would never happen again. No wonder Mike hasn't stopped grinning for the last two months.

Not that I've fully moved on from Chester. I'll never forget him, no one will, and it still hurts that he isn't there. In fact, he's the only one who didn't get his second chance and it's not fair. However, Linkin Park is his legacy and it lives on. I know he's happy for Mike and the rest of the band, I know he's proud of us and of how much Linkin Park does for all of us.

Ever since Linkin Park came back, fans have been talking about feeling like teenagers again, when they first met the band and Linkin Park was their entire world. I'd be lying if I said I haven't felt eighteen, twenty-two, twenty-three again. But those versions of me hadn't lost as much as I have. They hadn't seen Mike barely keeping it together during a tribute concert for his best friend. They hadn't cried themselves to sleep thinking how Chester and Mike wouldn't share a stage again. They hadn't been to a Hybrid Theory show and felt terribly guilty for enjoying live Linkin Park music sans Linkin Park, wondering if Mike and the others knew how Linkin Park music still brought people together, even if they weren't playing it themselves. Hell, those versions of me hadn't really understood properly half of Linkin Park lyrics.

Present me has been through it all, though. Present me knows how much she owes Linkin Park. She knows how bless she is to have her favorite band back and she won't ever take Linkin Park for granted again. And, if everything goes well, we get to keep them for the rest of our lives (even if they take a few years off here and there).

Thank you for this challenge, this was a lot of fun. Happy From Zero release day! I'll leave you with Two Faced because I can't get over how dorky these guys are on this video. Here's to Linkin Park!

30 Days of Linkin Park Challenge

In light of my favorite band's epic reunion, I’d like to start a challenge. 1 day = 1 post. 

Inspired by this music challenge

I would love to see other LP fans joining! Let's fill the tag with something wholesome as we are waiting for the new album Nov 15.

Day 1: A song that was your introduction to Linkin Park

Day 2: A favorite Linkin Park song that needs to be played LOUD

Day 3: A song that feels overlooked/underrated by Linkin Park fans

Day 4: A favorite Linkin Park music video

Day 5: A Linkin Park song that hasn’t got a music video but you wish it had

Day 6: A Linkin Park song that makes you happy

Day 7: A Linkin Park song that makes you sad

Day 8: A Linkin Park song that makes you want to dance

Day 9: A Linkin Park song you know all the lyrics to

Day 10: A Linkin Park song that you think everybody should listen to, even if they're not into rock

Day 11: A Linkin Park song that you never get tired of

Day 12: A Linkin Park song that you’ve listened to lots of times recently

Day 13: A favorite cover of a Linkin Park song

Day 14: A favorite live performance of a Linkin Park song

Day 15: A favorite heavy Linkin Park song 

Day 16: A favorite Linkin Park song with rapping

Day 17: A favorite ballad or/and acoustic version of a Linkin Park song

Day 18: A favorite remix from Reanimation

Day 19: A favorite song with Chester singing

Day 20: A favorite song with Mike singing

Day 21: A favorite song with Emily singing

Day 22: A favorite Linkin Park song that isn't part of the main discography

Day 23: A favorite Linkin Park song with a featured musician/vocalist

Day 24: A favorite Linkin Park song from a soundtrack

Day 25: A Linkin Park song with the most beautiful/poetic lyrics

Day 26: A Linkin Park song with the most powerful message

Day 27: A Linkin Park song that reminds you of yourself

Day 28: A Linkin Park song that reminds you of a loved one

Day 29: A Linkin Park song that you love, but rarely listen to

Day 30: Free Choice Day

[talktonytome]

Okay fun little BuckTommy question 🥰 let’s say they’re going to the movies - something that’s out, maybe an indie theater playing an old movie. What movie are Buck and Tommy seeing on their date?

Omg I love this!

Ok. Tommy takes them to a drive in that happens to be doing Romances&References movie weekend (I made this up 😆). They’re playing Casablanca and When Harry Met Sally the day they go. (For those who don’t know, Casablanca is referenced in When Harry Met Sally)

They go in Tommy’s truck, and the bed is perfect for blankets and cushions which they set up and snuggle into with snacks. Tommy’s a gentleman so he goes to buy popcorn and old fashioned sodas from the drive in shop. After the first movie starts, Tommy throws his arm around Buck, who settles into his side with a satisfied smile.

They trade sweet and salty kisses; it’s dark, no one’s paying attention to them. And when the second movie’s on and they reference Casablanca, Buck’s so excited that he gets it and Tommy falls for him even more. Buck catches him staring and Buck’s like “what? Do I have something on my face?”

And Tommy just shakes his head fondly and says “here’s looking at you, kid” and Buck melts and also gets that reference.

Of course, they make out near the end because it’s a drive in and duh you have to.

It’s one of their favorite dates 🥺

[cinnaleaf]

「 Loc’d In | One Shot 」

summary: you have rules for your clients — strict ones, no exceptions. but when jules calls for yet another late night retwist, you let him in...again. | MDNI 18+

warnings: smut, mentions of wine, french phrases loosely translated to english wc: ~4.6k song inspo: Call on Me x Janet Jackson & Nelly | Butterflies x Isaiah Falls & Joyce Wrice 🔒🗝️: *insert bratz doll with messy hair meme* 🤸🏾‍♂️

You were finishing up with your last client of the day just as your phone rang. It was late, you were exhausted, and truthfully – all you wanted to do was lay on the couch, have a glass of wine, and rest your feet after doing a set of starter locs, retwists, and braids all day. When you looked at your phone, you saw Jules’ name flash across the screen which made your lips curve upward into a smile. He was your favorite client, not just because of his good looks – but also because of his sensible fashion choice and great taste in music. You two were always a little flirty during his appointments, but it never went further than occasional second glances, spontaneous lip syncing battles, playful back and forth banter, and maybe a lingering hand on your waist after a goodbye hug every once in a while.

Somehow, this man managed to bypass your booking system every single time he wanted his hair done. You were meticulous with it: online scheduling only, deposits upfront, a minimum of 24 hours notice, a five minute grace period, no housecalls, and NO flirting. Him calling you up like this became an increasingly common occurrence, so you already knew what he wanted when you finally answered the phone. No one could ever make you break your rules as often as he did – especially the last rule.

“Jules...” you greeted, continuing to speak into the phone without giving him a chance to say anything back. “You know I don’t do last minute bookings. Check the website.”

An amused laugh filtered through the phone. “Ouais..I know. But that’s not what you said last time.” he replied with a silky, yet playful tone that almost made you want to unravel immediately. “You did it before, non? Counting on your generosity for my shoot tomorrow.”

“No. You’re counting on my patience that’s running thin with you…” you countered, leaning into the playful back and forth as you shifted around on your tired feet. “Tu me fatigues Jules” (you’re wearing me out).

“Not even one last favor for me?” he shot back in a smooth French accent that was softening you up just like it always did when you spoke to him over the phone. “This is the last time. I promise.”

“Uh huh..because that’s what you said last time you called for a retwist. And that one time before that when you went on holiday and wanted braids.” you reminded him, smirking to yourself. “If we’re breaking my rules again then you owe me.”

“Add extra to my tab then” he replied with an audible smile through the phone. “Maybe some wine could make up for the timing? What kind do you like?”

You leaned back, entertaining his offer a bit more. “Hmm.. a glass of Côtes du Rhône would do it,” you suggested, already thinking about how it would taste on your tongue.

“Ahh Côtes du Rhône” he echoed in a velvety smooth voice, making you wonder just how much trouble you were going to get into tonight. “I’ll bring a good bottle for my favorite loctician.”

You shook your head, giggling into the phone. “You must really want my magic touch.”

“I do” he responded, shifting into a more seductive undertone. “You know you want to see me too or you would’ve let the phone ring.”

“Vasy. T’es trop sûr de toi” (c’mon. you’re too sure of yourself), you retorted, trying to sound like you weren’t bothered, but you couldn’t lie to yourself – you didn’t mind seeing him..even if it was late. “Don’t take too long. You’re already pushing it.”

“I’ll make it worth your while” Jules replied, his voice like honey dripping over the words low and deliberate as if he was implying something else. He drew out each syllable, like he wanted you to feel it.

“Mhm... on verra bien (we’ll see), you murmured in a playful lilt. “Ten. Don’t be late Jules.”

Jules let out a knowing chuckle. “Jamais (never). On my way now.”

The moment you hung up the phone you headed straight for the bathroom to freshen up. For whatever reason, you were prepping like you had an incoming dick appointment and not a retwist with a regular client. After your shower, you set everything out needed for his retwist, taking a quick glance to make sure you didn’t forget anything. Clips were lined in a neat row, you had a rat tail comb for parting, and a jar of loc and twist gel next to a bottle of mousse. Just as you were setting down a spray bottle of rosewater to keep his locs hydrated, the doorbell rang. 

Your heart skipped a beat when you opened the door and saw Jules standing on the other side. He stood outside with one hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding onto the bottle of wine he promised you. His eyes swept over you, taking in the curves of your body before he reached your eyes and smiled at you.

“For you,” he stated warmly. When you accepted the wine, you felt the cool glass contrast with the warmth from your hand as Jules leaned in, wrapping his arm around you in a brief but firm hug.

“Ça va, ma belle? (How are you, beautiful?)” he spoke in a low tone, not taking his eyes off of you. He placed a soft kiss to your cheek and thought of lips so close to yours nearly made you shift your lips toward his, but you resisted..for now.

“Ça va (I’m good)” you replied, tilting your head enough to meet his gaze. “You’re lucky I’m even letting you in. You’re five and a half minutes late.” You pulled out your phone to show him the timer you set when your clients didn’t show up on time. Yeah.. maybe it was a little much, but people loved playing with your time..and your coin.

Jules glanced at the timer on your phone and shook his head. “Ahh désolé (sorry)” he responded, acting like he was apologetic but in reality he was testing you. “Had to make sure I got the right wine though…”

You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, trying not to smile even though you really wanted to. “Mhm, yeah..whatever. Come in before I change my mind.” You motioned for him to follow you and you set the wine bottle on the table as you led him toward your set up. He took a seat in the chair and you poured two glasses of wine, handing him one.

“So...did you already wash your hair?” you started, raising an eyebrow as you clinked your wine glass against his. “I could’ve done that too since you already have me working..”

“Bien sûr (of course),” he smiled, taking a sip of wine. “Sounds like I missed out though. Next time I’ll let you handle it start to finish.”

You laughed as you set down your glass and picked up the comb to section his hair. “For making me work after hours you should throw in a massage. My feet ache” you bantered, not really expecting anything of it as your hands worked through his hair.

He tilted his head back and your subconscious instinctively moved your hands to cup his chin as he looked at you. “Yeah? We can take it to the couch.”

You didn’t have to think twice about it and took him up on the offer, grabbing your glass and leading him to the couch. He sat in front of you on the floor and you sunk into the cushions behind him with your bare legs on the sides of his shoulders. Once he settled, you scooted closer and felt the heat of him pressed between your thighs. You really weren’t one to even think about pulling something like this with your clients, but his face and voice had you damn near ready to agree to anything he said. 

For now you were blaming it on the wine, even though you had barely started drinking it.

You misted his locs with the spray bottle and the floral scent enveloped with the argan and hibiscus scent from the gel as you carefully parted his hair with the comb. You applied gel to each section, smoothing it over with a slow touch. Your fingers worked themselves into a familiar rhythm as you twisted the roots of each loc and secured them with a clip.

The melodic beats of Call on Me by Janet Jackson and Nelly hummed throughout the room. Jules nodded along to the music, dipping his head slightly with each twist. His shoulders brushed against your knee and the tips of his locs grazed against your thigh. You could feel the heat radiating off his body and every subtle movement he made was sparking straight to your core. You attempted to ignore it and moved your hands methodically as you worked the gel into his roots and twisted each section, trying to focus on the rhythm of your fingers against his scalp.

“Boyfriend coming to see you after this?” Jules asked slyly, acting casual as if he was just curious.

You paused for a second before getting right back into the rhythm. “Um..no.” you replied with a small smile. “I’m single...” His question threw you all the way off and you were hoping he didn’t catch on. Your relationship status wasn’t any of his business but you found yourself answering honestly anyway. With any other client, it would’ve been straight lies just so you could shut it down…but you didn’t want to shut it down with him.

“Ah bon? (really?)” he replied in a satisfied voice. “I thought somebody would be keeping you busy.”

You laughed, taking a short break to take another sip of wine. “No. You’re the one keeping me busy with all these late night appointments.” 

Jules smirked and gave you a smug look. “I’m not letting anybody else in my hair like this” he said in a warm and smooth voice, knowing exactly what his voice was doing to you because you kept fidgeting. “People keep asking who hooks me up but non...I’m keeping you to myself.”

You playfully tapped him with the comb and laughed, shaking your head. “Oh..so you’re blocking my blessings and denying me good business? That’s selfish Jules.” you joked, but you were also serious because who did he think he was? Definitely not your man.

He kissed his teeth and drifted his hand to your ankle to trace over the cool golden links of your anklet. “No. What’s selfish…” he started, leaning his head back to meet your eyes. “is you sitting here like you don’t know I want more than a retwist ma belle.”

You felt your heart quicken in pace as he held your gaze and grazed his fingers up your calf. Your breath caught in your throat, trying to fight the warm sensations coursing through you. You cupped his face, tilting his head back in place so that you could continue your task.

“Bouge pas (be still)”, you muttered in a quiet voice. You ignored his previous statement, feeling conflicted between breaking another rule of yours or throwing it back on this man. Your hands were shaking slightly as you reached the last loc. Jules hand stayed on your leg, dragging back and forth against your soft skin.

“Y/N…” he called out. Your name rolled off his tongue, easily wrapping you in a state of lewd thoughts. His thumb pressed into the curve behind your knee, making you tingle with want.

“Fuck…” you breathed out. All you wanted to do was press your legs together to relieve the pressure building in your core, but he was right there locking you in place. You took a deep breath and leaned into his ear. “Let me finish first,” you whispered, barely keeping a steady voice. You retwisted the last of his locs and applied mousse, moving your fingers over his head quickly and shakily. 

You reached for the blow dryer, trying to finish quickly so that you could get to the night’s next set of activities. Before you could even turn the switch on, you felt the heat of Jules’ lips pressing into the soft inside of your knee, making your breath hitch.

“Mm..J-jules..” you tried to warn, to have some sort of authority in your own home, but it sounded more like you were pleading. The vibration from the dryer in your hand didn’t do much to mask the feeling of his mouth trailing higher toward your thigh. He couldn’t give a damn about you trying to set his retwist properly.

“Quoi? (what?)” he spoke against your skin, making you feel the faint heat of his breath against the sensitive skin of your thigh. “You said I’m keeping you busy all night. La nuit n’est pas finie.. (the night isn’t over.)”

You could barely hold on to the dryer and your fingers almost slipped from it when he left an open kiss along your thigh.

“Julesss..” you echoed again, softly this time as you dragged out his name.

He smiled against your skin and wrapped his hand around the back of your thigh. “You don’t want me to stop, n’est ce pas? (do you?)” He was taunting you, daring you to drop the charade and show him how bad you wanted him to fuck you senseless. Your heart hammered against your chest and you switched the dryer off, letting it fall to be forgotten on the couch. His hair was dry enough…you were not.

“Non, je... je veux pas que t’arrêtes (no, i don’t want you to stop),” you whispered quickly before you had time to take your words back. With one swift movement, Jules lifted your leg over his shoulder by gripping the curve of your thigh and he turned toward you. You tried to pull the last of the clips out of his hair while he trailed kisses from your legs to your neck. He smirked at you as you removed the last clip and he leaned into your ear. “How much do I owe you?” he said, handing his phone for you to input the amount.

“Ugh..” you groaned and snatched the phone from his hand, annoyed that he was prolonging you from what you really wanted. You were struggling to type in the amount due to him testing your focus by kissing the curve of your neck.

“Mmm..Jules, I can’t concentrate” you moaned softly, arching into his body. His hand slid up your inner thigh, settling dangerously close to where you wanted him to touch you. He had you almost ready to beg for it with the way he was stretching things out. You sucked in a breath when his thumb brushed over your clothed folds. You gripped the phone tighter, still not finished with entering in the amount. It was only three digits but the way he was touching you made it hard for your fingers to focus on three simple taps. Your free hand brushed up against his hardened length stretching against his joggers, making you forget about the late fee you should’ve charged him for. 

“You’re still working ma belle” he pointed out, as if he wasn’t the one distracting you from ending this appointment in the first place.

You rolled your eyes, managing to finish tapping in the amount and handed him the phone. Jules lips ghosted over your jawline, his thumb hovered over the send button but then he glanced down at his phone, adding an extra zero to the amount you entered in before finally pressing send. The minute he dropped his phone on the couch you pulled him closer to you, biting your lip as you looked him in the eye. “Tu me rends toute chose…” (implies 'you’re turning me on')

Jules pupils were blown wide with cravings for you. “C’est ça que tu veux? (you want this?)” he taunted again, trailing kisses down to your collarbone. You really wanted to tell him to get on with it and take you already, but you needed to have some type of decorum so he wouldn’t know how needy you were for him. Instead, you nodded. His hand found his way back up and he pressed into your shorts again, hovering right above your clit. He teased you with slow and gentle pressure, making a soft shaky moan slip from your mouth. You tilted your hips up instinctively and leaned into his touch and he smirked, loving every gasp and shiver coming from you. Jules breath fanned against your skin and he whispered, “Tu sais que j’aime te faire languir…” (you know i love making you wait)

It was then that you remembered you forgot to charge him a late fee, but unbeknownst to you, he had already taken care of that well beyond your little fee. Either way, your mind quickly moved on from that the minute he started pulling at your top, lifting it over your head. You tugged at the waistband on your shorts, trying to pull them off, but Jules grabbed your wrist to stop you. “Non.. attends moi (no..wait for me)” he spoke in a low, sensual command. 

“Tu aimes ça, hein? (you like this, huh?)” he continued, dripping his words like he was pouring sex directly into your ear.

“Jules stop fucking playing with me” you hissed, finally over it. 

His hand moved to your boobs, rubbing the pad of his thumb and index fingers against your nipples.

“Ah, putain (fuck)” you hissed again, arching more into his touch. He put his mouth on your sensitive nipple, sucking with just enough pressure before lightly nipping you with his teeth. You gasped, rolling your eyes back from the sensation. Your fingers ran over his freshly done retwist and you could smell a faint hint of argan oil and rosewater filling your nostrils as he drove you further out of your mind. His lips moved to your other breast, sucking, nibbling, and blowing cool air against your skin. You were squirming now, desperate, but not ready to beg..or so you thought.

“I’m gonna kick you out my house if you don’t hurry up” you threatened, but it was a very weak threat. You didn’t even believe it yourself.

“No you won’t” he said confidently, slipping his fingers down to your shorts to remove them. He toyed with the edge of your panties and your hips jerked involuntarily. Your body was betraying your attempt at acting like he didn’t have you hot and bothered. “Look at you. You’re already begging without your words.”

“Fuck you.” you sang out breathlessly. It sounded more like an invitation than whatever insult you were trying to portray.

“Pas encore bébé (not yet baby)” he replied, grazing his fingers over your soaked panties.

“Jules.” you spoke his name with a warning. 

He tilted his head up, acting nonchalant. “Oui? Tu veux quelque chose? Tell me.” (yes? you want something?)

You sucked in a breath trying to battle with your pride and horniness. He was playing with you, and he was too good with it. You didn’t want him to give him the satisfaction of begging, but your body wasn’t on the same page with you right now. You tilted your hips up to chase the pressure of his hand and his smile widened.

“Ah voilà (there is is).” Jules slipped his hands under your panties, finally touching where you were soaked and aching for him. Your head fell back when he grazed over your clit and you moaned when he began swirling circles on your sensitive nub.

“Please Jules” you whined, suddenly breaking your resolve. The word slipped from your mouth before you could stop it. Jules dipped two of his fingers inside of you, slowly so that you could feel every inch of his touch. Your lips parted and a moan ripped out of you. He curled his fingers inside of you and dragged his thumb against your clit, making your thighs shake. Your hands made their way to the waistband of his joggers, tugging at them to pull them down far enough to reveal an outline of his dick pressing against his boxers.

He smirked at you and picked up the rhythm of his fingers inside you. “You’re soaking wet. This what I do to you?”

There was no point in trying to deny it. “Jules just fuck–” Your words got lost within you when he slid his fingers out and brought them to your lips. His eyes seared into you and he tapped his fingers against your bottom lip, waiting.

“Open. Taste yourself” he commanded. You hesitated, but then you looked at him through your lashes and wrapped your lips around his fingers, letting your tongue slide across his fingers as you sucked. He licked his lips, tilting his head as he watched you. You felt his dick twitch against your thigh and you knew he was probably imagining it was his dick you were sucking on.

“Good girl” he whispered, adding a kiss to your jaw. After removing his clothing, he reached in his wallet to pull out a condom. He had a cocky grin on his face as he tore the foil open with his mouth and slid the rubber over himself. You bit your lip while he stroked his dick a few times, priming himself for you like he wanted you to watch. Jules was hard as a rock, standing thick and ready for you, making your mouth water at the sight.

Just as you were about to say something, Jules gripped the back of your thighs to push your knees toward your chest. The stretch left you open and you could feel the cool air contrasting with the wetness from your pussy. You barely had time to brace yourself before he sunk into you, starting to fill you with his thickness. Your strangled gasps were music to his ears as he filled you up slowly, making you feel his tip, down to his balls pressed up against you.

“Oooh wait” you whimpered, clutching your fingers on his shoulders while your body adjusted to the way he stretched you out from the slow drag of his first thrust. “Oh my god…” you whispered when Jules started moving again.

“Take it bébé.” Jules groaned from how tight you felt. His strokes were long and deep. “You’re doing so good.”

You dug your nails into his skin as he picked up the pace and your whimpers turned into gasps. “Faster” you managed to get out in between a moan. Jules grinned and obliged, snapping his hips against yours harder and faster. He pressed down on your lower abdomen with his hand. It was so intentional your eyes rolled back from the pressure.

“You feel that? I’m all the way in.”

Your golden anklet dangled noisily near his ear and he groaned again, tilting his hips up enough to hit your spot with precision. You couldn’t answer him because you were too busy moaning from the way he was hitting your g spot. The only thing outside of your moans that could be heard was his groans, and the wet squelch of each thrust mixing with the R&B playing softly in the background. His fingers found your clit again and he circled it with just the right amount of pressure, making you moan out his name.

“Jules... oh my god..right there Jules” you cried out.

“Mmm say my name like that again” he said, grazing your neck as his pace grew faster. You were on the verge of breaking into pieces. The feeling was so overwhelming but you were trying to hold on to savour the moment.

“Don’t hold back,” Jules demanded. When you didn’t immediately obey him and come undone, he pulled out of you, making you whimper from the loss of him inside you. “Turn around” he commanded, already guiding you with his hands. He smacked your ass and the sting made you wince and moan at the same time. He moved his hand to grip your chin and pull you up so that your back was pressed against his chest. “Show me what I do to you Y/N.”

He slid back into you in one smooth stroke. His locs brushed up against your cheek as he continued with each deep stroke, pushing you closer to your orgasm. Eventually his hand made its way back to your clit, but this time you couldn’t hold back when he started circling it deliberately.

“C’est ça, bébé (that’s it baby). Let it go” he coaxed in a rough and sexy voice. Your walls clenched around him as you moaned. You gripped the arm he had wrapped around you because it was the only thing you had to hold on to. Your orgasm came in waves as you pulsed repeatedly around his dick. You were trembling, soaked, and the sensation from the remnants of your orgasm dripped down your thighs.

Jules wasn’t done with you, no.. not yet.

He pushed you forward back onto the couch and gripped your hips as he kept up with his momentum. His breath was getting ragged and you were a mess of moans and gasps, barely able to form any words because he was fucking you so well.

“Jules, Jules, Jules..” was all you could manage. Hearing you moan his name over and over again like that made his thrusts erratic, he was losing control as he got closer to the edge. With one last deep stroke, he let out a guttural groan and spilled his cum into the condom. You felt him twitch inside you as his hips slowed and drew out his release until he collapsed against your back.

His lips pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder, still breathing unevenly. “You good?” he asked before placing more kisses over your back.

“Mhm” with a small nod and a giggle was all you could muster in your blissed out state. Jules pulled back, sliding out of you with care so that he could throw away the condom. When he came back, he sat next to you on the couch and pulled you onto his lap like he wasn’t ready to part from the skin on skin contact yet.

“You still mad about me being late?” he asked, smirking while tracing the skin on your thigh.

You rolled your eyes and rested your head against his chest. “Shut up Jules.”

He laughed and kissed the top of your head, squeezing your hip. “You know you would’ve missed me if I didn’t pull up.”

You kissed your teeth and sat up enough to give him a glare. “No. I miss my peace” you shot back, but you were still curled up in this man’s lap after sex, actions not matching your words. You weren’t fooling anybody.. not even yourself. 

“Trop tard ma belle. T’es déjà loc’d in avec moi." (too late beautiful, we’re loc’d in now)

You laughed louder than you intended to and pushed your hands against his chest in a playful way. “Stop. That’s so damn corny.”

“And yet..here you are sitting on me and laughing at it” he bragged, widening his grin. He kissed your lips and you could feel the roughness of his facial hair starting to fire you up all over again.

You shook your head, leaning into him again while tracing the veins of his arm with your hand. Your thoughts drifted and you realized you broke every rule except the one about house calls. At least you still had your dignity with that one. That line hadn’t been crossed yet.

As if sensing your thoughts, Jules’ hands wandered up your waist and tipped your chin to turn your face toward him again. “Come to my place and spend the night? Let me take care of you.”

You sighed, but before you could come up with a smart reply, he leaned in with his locs and lips brushing over your ear. “Remember....”

“La nuit n’est pas finie.”

song inspo: