#this was awful to make nothing did as i wanted it to

[mk-wizard]

Dialogue in my head that was too good to keep to myself...

Starscream: That's it! I don't care about the fact that you saved my father anymore! I am NOT one of your recruits, students or underlings! You will cease and desist ordering me around or so help you, I'll- Heatwave: You'll WHAT?! The amnesty status of Decepticons on Earth is fragile enough as it is since the tension between Optimus and Rodimus! And might I remind you that unlike Cyclonus, you DO have a criminal record so technically, you're also on probation! So one false move and you're wings are clipped! Literally! Starscream:... Right now, that sacrifice seems worth it if it will get you off my back! Heatwave: You think I like having to watch your bumper? I don't! But I have to because you always get it into trouble because you either never stay out of trouble or never know when to mute it, Screamer! Starscream: You expect me to live by a human standard?! Heatwave: I expect you to live by a law abiding standard! Cody: *looks between them bickering and rolls his eyes leaving* Starscream: I DO obey the law! I just want to live as a Decepticon! Or is that criminalized on Earth too?! Heatwave: No, it's not, but how come your father, Glyph and Constructicons can follow Earth regulations and-... Aw, slag, I can't believe I'm standing up for them... Starscream: Aha! So the mask slips off! You ARE just following me around hoping I'll slip up so you can play hero! You Autobots are all the same! You think you are the standard of sainthood and every other Transformer is either a savage or a criminal! Why do I even bother playing nice when you all have already decided I'm guilty for just existing?! Heatwave: No! You're guilty because you actually committed war crimes! So spare me the victim card! Starscream: The war brought out the worst on both factions yet only Decepticons are held accountable! I would say that my "victim card" has meaning! Then again, what would YOU know?! You didn't fight in the war! You don't know the horrors I went through that forced my hand! You literally slept through it! You don't know the first thing about genuine suffering! Heatwave: *is insulted* Take. That. Back. Now! Starscream: No! Heatwave: Take it back! Starscream: I will not apologize for telling the truth! Heatwave: *rings Starscream's neck* TAKE IT BAAAAAAACK!! Starscream: *chokes and then grinds his teeth kicking Heatwave in the stomach getting himself free* How DARE you assault me! I'll rip your optics out with my bare hands! Heatwave: I'm gonna dismantle you piece by piece starting with your big voice box! And iceberg comes between them.... Cyclonus: ENOUGH!! *he turns to Starscream* Starscream, Earth was gracious enough to pardon you for your crimes. The least you can do is abide by their rules and stay out of trouble. Starscream: But, father, he- Cyclonus: I know what he did and how he sees us! You think I feel nothing when people only look at my faction and nothing else? Of course I get insulted, hurt and I hate having to constantly prove myself! But we all have to bear it until things change! Until then, be patient and conduct yourself with dignity! Do I make myself clear?! Starscream:... Yes, father. Cyclonus: And as for you, Heatwave, I stand by my words, but just because I walk the walk doesn't mean I am willing to take it sitting down! Not anymore! Heatwave: Huh?! Cyclonus: I have had enough of you circling around at my feet and everyone else's waiting for us to take one step out of line like a Sharkticon waiting to strike its prey! You never leave us alone, you call us slurs including our presence and worst of all, you encourage your own cadets to practice this behaviour! You should be ashamed of yourself! Heatwave:................. I... Cyclonus: I have reported your behaviour to BOTH Primes and they both agree that it qualifies as problematic and harassment! They are on their way in person to address your behaviour and everyone else's! I suggest you reflect and accept YOUR wrongdoings with grace *leaves and Cody is there looking at both Heatwave and Starscream with contempt before leaving*

When I remember they all in the same timeline I giggle

[captain-bubble-wrap]

I WANT MORE SICK QUINN PLEASE

Okay, babes! More sick Quinn it is!

"Oh baby, you look awful."

"Good morning, to you, too," Quinn answered, his eyes half open. His voice sounded like he was talking with his nose pinched closed. You knew when he went to bed last night he was getting sick; you had heard it through the phone. So, when you got the message this morning that he needed you to come over, you made a stop at the pharmacy before his apartment. And it was a good thing, too. 

He was on the sofa, legs pulled up to his chest with a blanket draped over his head and wrapped around him like a sick Halloween ghost. His colour was off; washed out and grey-like, and he was breathing out of his mouth with a rattle in his chest. 

"I'm sorry," you replied softly, removing your shoes and coat at the door. The lights were off when you had got in, but you didn't question it. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I look: awful, apparently." 

Hurting his feelings wasn't what you had wanted to do, but it was too late for that now. "I shouldn't have said what I did. I didn't mean for it to--"

"It's fine." Quinn's tone was sharp and flat and he wasn't looking at you. Those two little words had stung, causing you to remain at the door longer than you should have, hesitant to go any further. After a moment, realizing that your words meant nothing and that he wasn't going to apologize either, you grabbed the two bags you had brought with you and walked into the kitchen. 

From across the island, you could see him sitting on the sofa, his head never moving to look over his shoulder at what you were doing. It was like you weren't even there. He was sensitive, you knew that, but this was the first time he had been so irritable. 

With the lights off and all of the floor-length curtains drawn, it was near impossible to do what you needed to by the light of the television in the other room. 

"May I turn the lights on?" You asked, hoping he wouldn't find a reason to get moody over a simple question. 

"Sure," he said, still just a flatly as before. Quinn pulled the blanket further over his head before slumping over onto his side, like he was trying to hide from the impending light. 

His apartment's lights were all on dimmers, so you made sure the kitchen one was on the lowest setting possible before flipping the switch. Light sensitivity: migraine, and the possible reason for his shitty mood. Hurrying, you unpacked everything that you had bought before shutting the light off. You remembered the range hood had a light and one that wouldn't affect him anymore than the tv he was in front of, but at least you would be able to see what you were doing. You looked back towards the sofa where Quinn was still wrapped up tight. Knowing you had to talk to him, you buried your pride, and went back to the living room. 

"Migraine?" You asked him, your free hand touching his shoulder through the blanket, rubbing his back gently. 

"Yeah." 

"Will you look at me, please?"

After what felt like the longest moment, Quinn revealed his face from his private blanket fort. "Why don't you sit up and take these? It will help with the headache. And I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I didn't mean for it to come off like it did."

He didn't say anything at first as he forced himself back up. He would take the two pills and water from you and you would leave him alone. Back in the kitchen, you kept your back to him, your arms crossed. You had wanted to make things easy on him today, but now you wondered when he would tell you just to go. Things felt like they were spiraling faster than you could set them right. All just because of one poorly placed comment; one that you didn't mean to come off as serious. 

You were so deep in your own thoughts, you hadn't heard Quinn shuffle from the living room to where you were in the kitchen. His reaching out to touch your arm had startled you and he withdrew his fingers immediately. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, still draped with the blanket. 

You glanced at him for only a moment, "You're fine."

"I don't feel good," Quinn sighed, stepping forward a couple steps to stand right in front of you. He leaned forward to lay his head against your shoulder. He felt hot with fever, and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him. 

"I know you don't, baby."

'I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"It's okay." 

Quinn leaned his entire body weight against you, like he was trying to find comfort in any way that he could. Your fingers would trail up and down his back until he decided to move. 

"Everything hurts," he confessed, his eyes pleading for an answer as to why he felt so bad. 

"Can you tell me what you're feeling?"

"Uh, the migraine. I can't breathe. My throat is sore. I'm coughing up green stuff. My body hurts so bad I could seriously cry. I'm cold yet I'm sweaty. I don't know what's going on with me."

His voice had never sounded so pathetic the whole time you had known him, and it hurt you to hear him struggling with so much. 

"Have you taken a Covid test yet?"

"No."

"It wouldn't hurt to take one."

"Okay," he whined, pulling himself from your body as you allowed your arms to fall away from his. "I don't know if I have any left."

"I grabbed some this morning," you remembered, looking through things to find the box. "Here."

Quinn tore open the kit. He fumbled with the contents before finally swabbing his nose and applying it to the test kit. Despite having been so close to you just moments ago, realizing that he could have Covid had made him stand a ways away from you. It didn't take long for the test to read positive, making his fears worse. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his eyes falling closed with a sigh.

"Honey, it's fine. These things happen."

Quinn looked over at you, eyes heavy with guilt. "I probably just got you sick."

"I'm not worried about that," you reassured, your hand touching his cheek after closing the gap between you both. "I could use a few days off from work anyways."

"I didn't want you to get sick. I shouldn't have messaged you to come over."

"Shh, baby, baby, baby," you soothed. "I'll be okay."

He paused, "I've got to tell the team."

"Why don't you go get into bed, message Rick, and I'll deal with all of this stuff, okay?"

Quinn only nodded and slowly took off towards his bedroom. From the open door, you could hear Quinn on the phone, relaying the news of his positive test and that he would miss the next game slotted for tomorrow evening. The call didn't seem to last very long, and you'd enter the room after you were positive he was off the phone, so as not to interfere. 

"You didn't have to wait out there," Quinn spoke, once you joined him. "It wasn't anything that important."

"I know, but it wasn't my business," you smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," he remarked, "Just have to do what I did before. He wants me to re-test in four days and go from there."

Reaching forward, you smoothed his wild curls and felt his forehead again making sure you hadn't imagined the fever. However, he was still quite warm to the touch. Quinn searched your face for reassurance before asking you anything.

"Is it bad?"

"Your fever? No, I don't think so. Hopefully it breaks soon, which should make you feel a lot better. Let me go get you some more water, okay?"

"Okay," he sighed, pulling the duvet up around himself with a bit of a struggle. 

"I just feel like shit," he said with a sigh, his congestion somehow sounding worse just before he had a sneezing fit. 

You weren't gone but a minute, but when you came back, he was looking at you like you had forgotten him for hours.

"What's wrong, Quinn?" You asked him, putting a few bottles down on his nightstand. 

"Oh, bless you, sweetheart."

"Ugh, I'm so over this." Quinn blew his nose before falling back into his pillows. 

You frowned, running your hand through his hair, standing beside his side of the bed. "I'm sure you are. I'm sorry."

"Would you lay down with me, babe? Since I've already probably given it to you..." He dropped off, feeling bad about asking you to come over.

Smiling, you leaned down to kiss his forehead one more time. "Of course. Do you need anything else before, though?"

"No," he said, pushing back the blankets to make it easier on you to find him beneath the layers. "Just you."

[lavenders388]

~The Type of Guy~

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍒ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Seong Gi Hun

not requested 💌

~⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍒ɞ˚‧｡⋆Seong Gi Hun is⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍒ɞ˚‧｡⋆~

a/n my little wet rat in his little abandoned hotel:((( wanna hug him so bad

<3 the type of guy who truly doesn't know what he did in order to deserve you as his partner. He is truly grateful for whatever is happening in the universe and for being able to call you his. his biggest fear, even after everything, is losing you.

<3 the type of guy who loves to make you laugh, he goes out of his way to crack jokes for you about anything and everything, no matter how inappropriate it is in the situation you're both in! definitely jokes with you during the games to make you feel better. says some silly shit like "after that id rather be in line at the DMV." he always blushes and smiles whenever you laugh at his jokes.

<3 the type of guy that before the games, his insecurities sometimes effect your relationship; he sometimes isolates himself after he does something he knows you wouldn't like, like gambling. he knows all you want to do is help and support him, but he also knows you don't deserve to be wrapped up in his debt and betting.

<3 the type of guy that wants nothing more in the world than to make you happy and give you the life you deserve. his main goal is to financially support you and spoil you:) without even trying he makes you smile, but still goes far out of his way to ensure he's bringing you happiness.

<3 the type of guy who even when he can't support you financially (which is like, all the time before the games) overcompensates in other ways! i can see him driving you everywhere, learning how to cook your favorite meals; for birthdays and anniversaries if he can't afford a gift or a nice dinner he'll make it all happen for you himself!

<3 the type of guy to be super protective of you, but knows you can hold your own if need be. he's a little bit afraid of you, out of love of course! he likes to walk on the outside of the sidewalk when he's with you, making sure you're safe from the cars or bikes on the road. he'll always be watching over you making sure he can notice and protect you from anything that could happen when you're out with him. even if he can't afford it he makes sure your home is in a safe neighborhood as well:) wishes you to walk or drive safely every time you leave without him and truly means it! he stays a bit on edge until you're home, knowing about the creditors looking for him and just being nervous about what could happen when you're out walking alone.

<3 the type of guy who absolutely adores you with his whole being! before he goes through the games he's much more extroverted so he's better at showing that verbally, he loudly praises you even just for existing and he lets the world know you're his and how much he loves you! instead of this, after the games he prioritizes your safety- never letting you out of his sight, reassuring you he'll never let any of those people hurt you, and just overall taking care of you despite his trauma- in a way that constantly reminds you how loved you are by him regardless of if he's able to verbalize it.

<3 the type of guy who, going after the last one, never leaves your side during the games. in this scenario you both ended up there together, he's horrified you joined to help pay for his debts and even more scared of you dying for that. his priority is making sure you both make it out alive.

<3 the type of guy who after the games only feels grounded when he's with you. even if its not nearly the same as before, he feels closer to himself when he's with you; the security knowing you're safe by his side and the general energy you give off:)

<3 the type of guy who is in awe of every part of you, mind and body. he's so genuinely in love with you and not afraid to show it. expect to be showered in compliments and praise every moment you're with him!

<3 the type of guy to fall in love with you at first sight. your charm absolutely sweeps him off his feet and he knows he wants to be more than just friends with you. he sees a future when he looks into your eyes:)

<3 the type of guy who loves physical contact, this goes with him wanting to protect you, but he does it also to remind you how loved you are and that he's always there for you no matter what.

<3 the type of guy who will always strive to give you the life you deserve<3

[4linos]

first steps, second chances

bang chan x fem!reader

synopsis/request: chan grapples with guilt after missing his son’s first steps, but a beautiful, unspoken connection during the following morning's moment makes him realize that the love between them is always present, no matter the timing.

wc: 2044

(a/n: i definitely see chan as a girl dad but i don’t know why i felt like writing him as a boy dad for this🤧.)

The day felt impossibly long. With back-to-back rehearsals, hectic tour preparations, and late-night meetings, Chan had little time to think, let alone rest. But no matter how busy his schedule got, he told himself and you that he'd be there when his baby boy took his first steps. It was a milestone that no parent, especially him, wanted to miss. He wanted to see it with his own eyes, to save the memory forever, not through a screen.

But life, as it often did, had other plans.

You sat on the couch, a few feet from your son, who was happily playing with his blocks. The little noises of his little fingers moving the pieces were reassuring, a gentle reminder of how important these early memories were. You watched his gaze shift, lingering on you as if he was considering what he should do next. He wobbled slightly, then attempted to push himself up, his small hands grabbing the carpet for support.

You knew. You felt it in your chest. This was it.

Your heart raced as you grabbed your phone and called Chan's number, pleading he'd respond in time. But there was nothing. His phone kept ringing, and you watched as steadied himself, balancing on his little feet for a moment before taking a tentative step toward you.

You didn’t even think twice.

You tapped the screen, recording the moment with shaky hands as your son took another wobbly step, then another. He was doing it. He was walking, and you were cheering him on, your voice trembling with pride and awe.

"Look, baby, you're doing it! You're walking!" you whispered, half-laughing, half-crying, capturing the magic of it.

You ended the video quickly, wanting to keep the moment just for you, even though part of you wished more than anything that Chan had been there. But he’d catch up, you told yourself. You’d share it with him when he called back.

It wasn’t long before your phone buzzed again. You saw his name flash across the screen, and you answered, smiling through the bittersweet weight in your chest.

“Babe, where were you? He just..he just took his first steps,” you said, trying to hide the sting of disappointment.

You could hear the panic in his voice, the way it broke with guilt. “No, no, no, I missed it? I-I wasn’t there?”

The weight of his words struck you hard. Chan was heartbroken, and you could hear his disappointment over the phone. "I'm really sorry, Y/N. I promised I'd be there. I should have been there."

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply to steady yourself. You didn't want him to feel this way, especially given how important the day had been for both of you.

"You didn't miss it, Chan. You didn't miss him. He will do it again. You'll see him walk in person soon. I know you will. And he knows you're there." But the sadness in his voice did not change. "I wanted to be there." "I should have been there, Y/N."

When Chan arrived home that evening, you could sense the weight of the day pushing down on him. His shoulders fell as he stepped in, and he didn't look like himself. He kissed you softly on the cheek, but not with the usual warmth. He was still disappointed, and his guilt was eating away at him.

You didn't say anything immediately away. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, bringing him closer as you sat down on the couch. He nestled into you, the comfort of your presence the only thing that kept him grounded in that moment. His hand brushed through your hair, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He seemed tired and distant.

“I hate that I wasn’t there,” he muttered after a while, his voice low and strained.

You ran your fingers along his jaw, tracing the lines of his face. “I know, Chan. I know. But it’s okay. He’s okay. We’re okay.”

“But I promised.” His voice cracked slightly. “I said I’d be there when he took his first steps. I wanted to see it, Y/N. I wanted to be there with you.”

“I know. And I want you to know that he’s still going to keep walking, and you’re going to be there for all the other milestones. Every one of them. You’re going to be there for his first word, his first soccer game, his first date or whatever it is. He’s not going to remember that you weren’t here today. He’ll remember how you were there every other day.”

Chan's breath hitched, his chest tightening. “But it feels like I missed something so important.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t miss anything. He knows his dad loves him. We both know how much you care. This one moment this tiny moment it doesn’t define everything else you do.”

He sat there for a moment, processing your words, but you could tell it didn’t make him feel any less upset.

“Look, I have something for you,” you said softly, reaching for your phone and pulling up the video you’d taken earlier. “I recorded it, so you could see it. He took his first steps, just like we thought he would.”

Chan’s face softened, though there was still that pained edge to it. He took the phone from your hands, and his gaze immediately softened as the video began to play. His eyes traced the small figure of your son, wobbling but determined, taking his first steps toward you, and then the laughter, the cheers from both of you as you praised him.

"You're walking! You're walking!" you could hear yourself saying, the happiness in your voice almost breaking through the tension.

A silent tear rolled down Chan's cheek as he watched. "I can’t believe I missed it... But I'm so proud of him. So proud of both of you."

You gently cupped his cheek and wiped away the tear. "And he's really proud of you. He will always know how much you love him and how badly you wanted to be here." He leaned toward your touch, letting out a tiny sigh. "I just wanted to see it with my own eyes." To hold onto it." "I know," you said quietly, kissing his forehead. "You will. We'll have more moments like this. Together."

He nodded, his breath steadying as he drew closer and buried his face in your neck. You embraced him tighter, understanding that the weight of missing moments was heavy at times, but that true love would always be there to compensate.

The next morning began peacefully, with soft light flowing through the curtains as the world outside came to life. The air in the room felt lighter now, as if the night had allowed both of you to let go of some of the weight that Chan had carried the night before. He had fallen asleep beside you, holding you close as if to ground himself after the emotional intensity of the previous day. You could sense he was still upset, but his embrace was a little more relaxed and at ease.

As usual, your son was up and about, full of energy and wonder in his eyes. He'd been exploring slowly, creeping about the room and occasionally pausing to glance up at the two of you, as if seeking approval for each move. He was now on the floor, surrounded by his blocks, his little fingers enthusiastically placing them one on top of the other. Today, he moved more deliberately and with confidence, as if he had a purpose in mind.

You looked at Chan, who was still sitting on the floor in his pajamas, attempting to get ready for the day ahead, his mind already worried about rehearsals and work. He had said that he would need to leave very soon, but for the time being, he was focused on being present, sitting cross-legged across from your son.

You observed as your son glanced up at Chan, his gaze fixed on the form of his dad as if he knew exactly where he wanted to go. The small legs tightened and wobbled, and then, without hesitation, he pushed himself up again, balancing on his feet for a brief moment. You held your breath when he took his first step. But this time, it wasn't for you. This time it was toward Chan.

"Chan, look," you said quietly, pointing to your son, but he had already noticed. His eyes widened in awe, and he let out a gentle sigh as he watched their baby take a few shaky steps towards him. Your son was staggering slightly, his arms swinging in quest of balance, but his drive was unmistakable. He took another step, then another, and his face lit up as he got closer to his dad. He then reached Chan.

There was a beat of silence, a frozen moment in time, before your boy collapsed into his dad's lap with a giggle, his small hands gripping the fabric of Chan's pants as if he knew precisely who he had approached.

Chan's heart flooded with emotion as he held up his baby, holding him high and gently twirling him around. His eyes were filled with uncontrollable excitement as he laughed, his voice trembling slightly under the weight of his tremendous pride. "You did it! You walked to Daddy!" Chan muttered with wonder, his voice full of emotion.

The tiredness of the previous day seemed to fade as he held his son close, inhaling the scent of his baby's hair and feeling the warmth of his little body on his chest. It was a moment that moved beyond the tension, guilt, and frustration. This. it was everything.

You sat back on the couch, your heart filled with love for both of them. There was nothing better than seeing your two favorite people in the world experiencing an absolutely perfect moment. The disappointment of missing his first steps was no longer relevant. This was their moment, and it meant everything.

Chan stared at you, a warm smile creeping across his lips. His eyes gleamed with astonishment and relief. "I can't believe he walked to me," he said quietly, as if still absorbing it.

You nodded, a smile forming on your own lips. "He knew who he wanted to go to," you teased lightly, but it was apparent that the burden of the day before had been shifted away from him. His bond with his son was stronger than anything else, and it had always been apparent.

Chan leaned down and kissed his son's forehead before returning your eyes, his expression softening. “Thank you. Thanks for being so understanding last night.” You shrugged lightly and gave him an understanding grin. "We both know how much you love him. He has been waiting to walk toward you, haven't you, little one?" You cooed at your son, who gurgled happily while still cuddled in his father's arms.

Chan smiled, brushing his fingers gently over your son’s cheek, his heart filled with gratitude. "I’m glad I’m here. I won’t miss another moment, I swear." You chuckled, your voice light. "I know, Chan. But you don’t need to worry so much. Every moment we share is important. He knows you love him, and you’re going to be there for all the other milestones. Just like you promised."

As Chan looked at you, a peaceful smile stretched across his face. “Yeah, I’m learning that,” he admitted, his voice warm and filled with a quiet contentment. “I guess sometimes I just need a reminder.”

With a final kiss on your son's head, he pulled him closer, clutching the small body against his chest as if to protect and adore him in just a moment. The steps may have been small, but their significance was huge. Chan recognized that, while he might not always be present for every tiny moment, the quality of the ones they shared was what counted most.

You reached for Chan's hand and softly squeezed it as you leaned into him. You could tell that the weight of the day before had finally been removed. For the time being, all that mattered was the present moment: a father and son, their bond becoming stronger with each single step.

(❌proofread)

//

masterlist

[kisakunt]

THE RICH MAN’S GUIDE TO CORRUPTION

GIVE IT UP FOR LOVE

warnings… i mean some absolute swine talk, gojo and geto are evil men, you’re a sweet and pure virgin. swearing, mentions of fucking, really just vile pig shit.

synopsis… suguru and satoru have a lovely chat over a warm summers breeze. oh! and sweet, un-expecting, vulnerable you is the topic of discussion.

a word from the creator… idk if i mentioned this but this fic is based loosely off the movie cruel intentions! banger film, check it out. i wrote a lot of this chapter awhile ago so if the writing style switches up next chapter don’t sue me. i’m excited!!!! here’s to the next eleven chapters of hell

series masterlist

Gojo hates the heat. He thinks he's tolerated it before on his father’s yacht or when he did an unnecessary shirtless carwash for extra money he didn't need; but right now with the breeze through the window— that Suguru demanded be open— overbearing the air conditioner, he's absolutely positive that summer is the worst.

“Start of the year’s comin’, yknow.” He typically broke the silence— as if he could ever shut up to begin with— and he was almost always met with a:

“No shit.” strident response. Those seemed to be Suguru’s speciality, and provoking them seemed to be Satoru’s.

It’s too hot. His white hair presses into the drywall, feeling much cooler than the air outside. “I’m not stupid, Suguru. Neither are you, you know what I mean.” It’s an overdramatic sigh— a call for attention— as he turns his head over to look at him.

“They’re gonna ask us about it soon.” And, in some way Suguru can’t really comprehend, Gojo sounds excited.

His manner isn’t necessarily wrong, not so much as it is unexpected. The ‘new year, new fuck’ competition of Azabu was practically famous among the young men certain to attend— the sons of the sons who started it, and all their nephews or cousins or any synonym for a pig of a relative that they could come up with. And, luckily enough, they had the privilege to be top candidates.

The competition was started by the current dean’s uncle, a horny fuck-all type who would take any and all excuse to boost his ego while tearing down a girls— or maybe he really did just want a good lay. But, it grew and grew and grew, and now it was almost ritualistic, a second identity of worthiness in the form of fucking a virgin before anyone else did.

Sure, they were nothing but thrilled for it as high school reached an end, or even the first or second year of university. But now it just seemed dull.

But, traditions are custom, and customs are a necessity. It’s almost become lore throughout their little clique of affluence; whispered stories from childhood turned into real competition after a long wait, especially from a group of people who so rarely have to wait for anything. It’s inspiring, they think, means to associate themselves with a lower class; normalize themselves just a little more.

Alumni share stories at functions, putting the frat in fraternizing, nonchalance on the tips of their tongues. Sometimes the tone almost feels dark, and Suguru thinks if he were a better person he’d feel some type of sympathy for the girls. Any fragment of empathy he had wiped away when he won for the first time, though, wide smirk as his year mates glared at him; memories of the tight, albeit idiotic, girl engrained behind the lids of his eyes.

Even so, it gets old quick. And it’s not like they don’t fuck dumb, stupid, silly girls with nothing to say for the rest of the year anyway. So, he can’t quite figure out what Gojo is all too excited about.

“Well try to make sure your dick doesn’t get hard from the thought, you fucking freak.” There’s a giggle from the other man, a scoff too, and he pushes his hand out at him.

This is crucial. This is who they are together. A pair— whether it’s a pair of awful men or not.

There’s also a sense of trepidation that comes with it, of course. It’s exclusive, more so than they already are, and if you do one thing wrong- speak a little too loud, come off too brash, give a lackluster lie after actually getting caught— you’re out. And whose pride would want that?

“It’s stupid we always gotta wait for them to sit us down, it’s not like we don’t know what’s coming up.” He scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “Plus, what a fucking weird thing to say to your kid.”

“I mean the whole thing’s odd if you think about it.” Gojo shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets, forearms bare against the linen of his trousers.

He’s right, of course. Even if neither of them feel guilt for their actions, they can’t ignore the sinking feeling in their stomach when their own fathers sit them down and incite such a twisted view on them.

Be that as it may, it’s not too bad when that’s all they know, and it’s not like either of them are going to complain at a quick orgasm, a nice pair of tits, and that goddamn feeling of triumph.

“Do you think they’ll cry again?” Satoru mocks, brimming with glee as he leans in the direction of his friend. “It’s always funny, dontcha think?”

“As if you’d know,” There’s a smirk despite the aggression in his tone. “Dunno why it matters so much to you, you already got bitches babbling about you all the time.”

Gojo sighs, expression bored and childish and fucking greedy. “Yeah, I know but…” His voice peters out, lost in the room. Elation bubbles back into his features, warming his cheeks and animating his eyes as he looks at Suguru.

“Yknow, I heard the dean has a daughter starting, actually. Real sweet gal, even wrote a whole fucking magazine article about the importance of ‘saving your innocence’” his voice wobbles, eyes rolling as he sneers. “for someone you really love.”

“Sounds like she’s ugly.”

“Thought so, too, but..” He trails off, hand fishing in his back pocket for his phone, pupils dilating at the light on his screen. It doesn’t take him long to find the photo; clearly he’s been sitting on his discovery for awhile, anticipating when he could tell him. “Look.”

Suguru doesn’t like to be wrong, much less will he ever admit it. “Holy shit.” You aren’t necessarily the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, probably not even the prettiest he’s seen in the last month, but you were definitely something.

Maybe it was the curve of your jaw or the tint in your lips, but the photo set something off in him. On the surface he thinks it’s the just barely explicit face you’re making in your mirror, phone in hand as you look into your lens, but really, honestly, if he’s searching deep down— it’s the fact he knows you’re the one girl who wouldn’t just throw herself on him if he so kindly asked.

“Sugu, are you ever bored of this? It feels too easy, right?” Suddenly Gojo’s previous excitement feels misplaced, voice itching for more. “Hardest part about it is finding out who’s actually a virgin or not, and that’s pretty simple with how awkward they get.”

“What are you saying?” Maybe he already knows, maybe he’s hoping for the obvious, but he asks like he doesn’t care. The former moves fast, hand steady on the desk as he leans far too close for comfort. In any other situation, he’d probably be met with a harsh jab to the face, but this feels different— secret.

“Let’s do something, on our own, just you and me.” He almost seems too impatient, pressure digging into the ground from the toes of his shoes and gaze begging. It was the kind of thing that made you want to agree, if nothing else to just feel a fraction of the way he seemed to be. Before Suguru could even consider the idea, test the waters and make Gojo beg a little bit, said boy opened his mouth again.

“I mean, unless you’re not up for it. You don’t really seem like the type to make a girl give it up for love.” He snickers, raising the back of his hand to his forehead as he feigns swooning.

“Geto, I— I love you.” His voice is high, wheezy in his imitation and a little rude. “I think.. I think I’m ready- I want it to be you.” He cuts himself off with his own laugh, hand circling over his mouth to try to stifle himself. “Could you imagine?”

“The fuck does that mean?!”

“Cmon, Suguru, you’re not really the endearing type.” He’s edging him now, tone manipulative and pressing and snarky and Suguru knows— of course he knows, but it can’t help but irk him.

“What are you thinking?” And now Gojo’s beaming again, feet guiding him back across the room to his bag, books stacked neatly inside, lying even against each other. He pulls out a magazine and tosses it to him haphazardly before he reaches back for a notebook and a pen.

“Page 36, read it.” The article is cheesy. It’s too long and feels like something right off a self care Facebook page. Suguru is sure he physically recoiled a couple times reading it; especially when you wrote ‘Virginity is a miracle— the ability to show someone how much you love them in such an intimate way should be saved for someone special.’.

It’s shocking that you’re the daughter of the man who oversees their little sex game.

Suguru thinks you’re vile— embarrassing and pathetic and a huge fucking waste of what seems like a really good pair of blowjob eyes. It makes his skin crawl and he verbally scoffs when he reads your finishing sentence about cherishing your virtues, so focused on the arrogance in your punctuation that he doesn’t even hear Gojo’s laugh.

“Pretentious as shit, right?” He snorts, eyes flickered as he recites the passage in his head. “It’s gonna feel so good to fuck the words right out of her mouth.” Suguru didn’t know what he expected from his friend, but it wasn’t that. It’s clear through, through and through, that he’s dedicated to the idea.

“I mean sure, I guess you’ll have your turn. Maybe she’ll fuck just about anyone after I win.”

“Wait, so you’re in?”

“Whatever.”

“Fuck yeah!” He’s joyful, fist pumping into his chest in a quick celebration before he’s holding up his notebook, standing directly across the floor from the desk.

The wood is dark, deep and marbled, glazed over the top and lined with little symbols of power in the form of trophies. It’s clearly something too nice to serve as a welcome mat, but nonetheless Suguru rests his heels on the surface, ankles crossed over each other as he leans back in his chair. His eyes point to the ceiling to look at anything other than the annoyance in front of him.

“Well clearly we need to set up some rules.” He sneers in his seat when he remembers not looking at him won’t make him shut up.

“Okay well we have the obvious: whoever fucks first wins. And I mean fucks, none of that sloppy anal shit. Doesn’t count.” It’s almost funny, but neither of them acknowledge it. If they do, that’ll come hand in hand with the fact they’re acting just like their fathers.

“She has to be sober.” He didn’t really expect himself to say that, but he did expect Satoru to whine.

Gojo lets it sit in the air for a second before he nods curtly and jots something done.

“Would it be too cocky to say she has to cum?” The journal’s away from his face now and someone could, and probably would, argue that the walls are lucky to see the boyish grin he’s got. His smirk pulls up at the corners of his lips, but Suguru just finds it vexing. Gojo is far too full of himself, he thinks, and he hates to admit there’s good reason.

Nonetheless, he has to give him a little shit. “Do they normally not with you?”

“Hey! That’s not what I meant, asshole.” There’s something sweet to Satoru, under all the sickening that is his personality. It makes people understand just why girls fall for him, and definitely helps him keep a good image to the public.

And there’s something smart to him that makes you feel like he could really pull whatever he wanted off. It makes the idea of competing with just him much more appealing.

“Are we gonna have like a— fuck I don’t know— like a time limit?”

“Fuck is this? A video game?”

“I mean no, but competition wise if it takes us like half a year isn’t that kind of stupid? Because who’s to say she won’t ‘really love you’ by then, and then you’re not making her go against anything, yknow?” And there's also something meticulous about him that makes him aggravating as all hell.

“Fine. A month.”

“Just a month?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Plus, anything longer than that and we’d just be a couple of fucking losers chasing after a bitch.” Suguru knows Gojo is giving him a look without even seeing it, the slightly judgmental and almost kind one he does. “What? You’re the one who said it to begin with.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. A month.” It’s silent for a second, comfortable with all their years of each other, before he clears his throat.

“That it then?” Maybe they’re the same kind of evil. Maybe they deserve each other.

“One more, actually.” There’s that feeling from him again, the tone that makes Suguru want to agree aimlessly for no fucking reason other than the possible rush. And before he can fester; before his skin can start to crawl and his hands can get clammy just from that sheer desire in his voice, Gojo grins.

“You need proof. And I don’t mean her saying it, because you can bribe anyone into saying anything. Gotta show it, photo or video or something, balls deep or whatever the fuck.” That almost makes Suguru laugh.

“I don’t think she’s gonna go for that one, no matter how good the dick is.”

“She doesn’t have to know.” Now he’s really thrilled. He doesn’t know what it is, but that lights something in him, stirs in his stomach and causes a little quiver in his brow.

“Fuck yeah, man,” he’s really laughing now, pointing at the journal harshly. “write that shit down.”

There’s something unspoken over them now, a deeper bond than they thought they could have. Neither of them would ever admit it, but it feels like they’re those two high schoolers again, counting down til they can become something fucking great. This is the feeling they’re supposed to get from their fathers’ stupid fucking contest. This is actual competition, a chance to actually win.

A new air falls on them, mixed back in with that warm, rich breeze.

“Okay, that settles that then.” Gojo offers, fingers tapping the binding of his book. “She has to be attending the start of the year banquet so that’ll be an excuse to meet her. Everything from then on is up to us.” Suguru always dreaded that shitty event, but now he finds himself doing mental math to count how far away it is.

Even if the whole thing is trivial, and even if you seem like the most uptight thing ever, Suguru is a man of pride. And prideful he’ll be.

“We still gotta do the ‘new year’ thing, you know. They’ll burst a fucking artery if we say we’re not interested.” His voice is gravelly and calm and so not anything he’s feeling, but he thinks Gojo buys it when he chuckles.

“Can you be excommunicated from being a womanizer? Because I think we would be.” They’re almost joking like everything is normal. It’s different, so much different, but they’re acting the same.

“I’m gonna go grab some water and maybe call one of your maids to make lunch, you want anything?” Suguru shakes his head, shifting in his seat as he tries his hardest not to look at the journal Satoru set on the side table.

“Suit yourself, I’ll be back.”

“Whatever,” He waits after Gojo walks out. Waits a good forty five seconds before he stands up, and he crosses the room in about three.

He glances over at the thrown aside notebook, eyes quick as he scans it. The handwriting is adjacent to messy, scattered and the page is littered with semi vulgar doodles and side bars. It’s coherent, though, and even though they both know Gojo had no intention of giving it to him, it’s got his signature at the bottom.

1. Full fucking!! Penis in vagina

2. No signs of being inebriated. Absolutely stone cold sober

3. If it takes longer than a month after everyone is introduced we’re both “a couple of fucking losers” (< Sugu’s words)

4. Orgasms are important ! Or at least near orgasms (she is a virgin)

5. Photo / video proof. If you can’t get it, you aren’t in it (haha! get it?)

He snickers at four, the uneasy tone in the second sentence almost self deprecating. Despite that, he can’t help but feel a smidge of respect that he ended up adding it to begin with.

He grabs the pen from the table, pressing into the paper too hard as he leaves his chicken scratch of a John Hancock. Okay, maybe this will be fun.

taglist… @moonlight-pearls @sharkerino @echerie

[nkogneatho]

girl dad!umemiya who teaches her daughter farming, gets her hooked on growing veggies and loving to watch them sprout at an early age. one day, your toddler waddles to the kitchen, watching you make a salad and horror creeps inside her. fat tears start rolling down her crystal blue orbs and she runs back to her father.

"hey. hey, sweetplum. what happened, baby?" he coos, a hint of tension in his voice but toned down to not add onto the tears of your baby girl.

"mama is killing the carrots," your baby cries, snot running down her nose. hajime carries her in his arm, big fingers trying to wipe her eyes. he walks to the kitchen and glances over, watching as you cut the vegetables, humming to the music playing on the tv in the living room. when he realized what was actually going on, nothing but a big laugh left his lips. you looked up in confusion, worry washing over as you glance at your daughter's puffy eyes and wet lashes.

"she said mama is killing the carrot with a knife." he laughed again. it took you five seconds to process everything. right. she has never seen raw vegetables on her plate. only in forms of soup, mush or cooked till they were unrecognizable.

"no, baby. aww i would never. see mama is just fulfilling the carrot's wish." her crying stopped as she looked at you with big eyes of innocence and hope. "the carrot told me she wanted to grow up and become a yummy salad. so i am just helping her." you didn't think she'd buy it but given how she is umemiya's daughter, she did. you gave her a big kiss and she was back to playing with her toys. you could still here hajime chuckling behind you.

"you're banned from taking her to the terrace. your obsession with farming made our daughter think i am a murderer." you pouted, avoiding his gaze. he snaked a hand around your waist.

"aw but you explained it so well, didn't you baby? i would've never came up with that." his lips were already chasing every inch of your face, planting kisses all over. "i am so glad i married you."

[starbylers]

How much of “El” was actually in Will’s van speech, why this scene does NOT point to him letting Mike go, and what we actually know about Will's arc/Byler because of it

I know everyone jokes about the Will crying in the van shot so we sometimes forget how serious of a moment that was but like…..he was devastated. It’s always bothered me when people act as though this scene was about El in any genuine way, and that the message to take away is that Will is accepting Mike and El love each other and starting to move on. Both of these things couldn’t be further from the truth, they’re just convenient interpretations to fit a certain narrative.

In reality, Will assumed what El feels because he loves Mike, and that’s how he feels. There was no conversation between him & El, nothing Will ever witnessed, for him to determine that Mike "makes her feel like she’s better for being different”, that that helps her "fight". It’s what El wanted to feel from Mike, but she clearly didn’t (“You think I’m a monster too”). We never see Mike uplift her for her differences throughout the entire time they're dating, and then in s4 El gets a plot about feeling like she doesn't fit in (“I am different”) and actively lies to Mike about it ??? So...when exactly does Mike make her feel like she's "not a mistake at all"? El doesn't even feel safe giving him the opportunity, in fact she actively refuses to repeatedly: lying in her letters, asking Angela to lie to Mike at the rink, in their fight when he tries to understand & she tells him he doesn't. (And then when he tries in the monologue to use the sentiment “I love you for exactly who you are” etc.…she loses.)

And aside from that, explaining the painting and its meaning was the most blatant lie we see Will tell, and that’s all him. El didn't say all these wonderful things she loves about Mike, didn't create a gift inspired by something personal to Mike (DnD) to emphasise that message. Those were Will’s thoughts and feelings, unquestionably. There is nothing to suggest that El perceives Mike in that way ("the heart", "guiding the party, inspiring us", "without [you] we'd all fall apart"), that she understands Mike and knows exactly what to say to make him feel important, special and needed, that she loves him the way Will loves him (which just coincidentally happens to encompass exactly what Mike needs to hear to soothe his insecurities (“I’m just some random nerd” etc.)). And frankly even if we pretend El thinks the exact same things, Will was the one who did the work to make Mike happy. The idea that El should be able to coast on the efforts of someone else because "well she obviously feels the same way" (where ???) is kind of disturbing. Mike deserves better, and it makes no sense that the writers would narratively reward a love interest who put no effort into showing how much Mike is valued vs one who went above and beyond to make him feel loved.

That speech only applied to El insofar as Will sprinkles in "these past months she's been lost without you", "she's so different from other people", "we'd all fall apart, even El, especially El" and "if she was mean to you/seemed like she was pushing you away". Not because El said any of this, but because it's plausible for Will to come to these conclusions on his own and think he's correct (and even be partially correct). He knows El was doing awful in Lenora because she is different, he knows she's part of the group and has experienced Mike's leadership, he knows she fought with Mike and then left him. All of these things also affect him - he missed Mike's friendship while they were separated, he's different because of his sexuality, he's part of the group too, he "sabotaged" the day in Mike's eyes after not reaching out much and we know he's scared of losing Mike due to his feelings.

But the rest? "Of course she needs you Mike, she'll always need you", "You make her feel like she's not a mistake, like she's better for being different and that gives her the courage to fight", "if she [...] was pushing you away, it's just because she's scared of losing you" (I do think that one's partially true but Will wouldn't know beyond a guess), “if she was gonna lose you I think she’d want to get it over with quick", "El needs you and she always will” (and of course "El commissioned it" and the compliments he gives after)...who is Will to make those claims? He doesn't know how El feels, he didn't even know El was lying to Mike, she clearly doesn't confide in Will about her relationship. No, these things are all Will guessing/outright lying and letting his own feelings slip through. And just in general outside of Will, El hasn’t done/said anything elsewhere in the show to confirm that she feels any of this (in fact it was de-confirmed, in the case of the “better for being different” stuff).

Essentially, it’s all just Will's assumptions about El, some of which are based in reality and some of which are Will projecting. But most importantly, the reassurance and comfort he gives (the painting stuff) in response to Mike talking disparagingly about himself are Will and no-one else, and part of the most blatant lie he tells (“she told me what to draw [...] your coat of arms, it's a heart [...] without heart we'd fall apart”) is specifically what is called back to to push Mike into confessing!

Now, the idea of Will "accepting the reality" of Mike loving El is so ridiculously irrelevant. Will was heartbroken after he did what he did, this boy was literally sobbing out the window, but the whole reason he does is because he fully 100% believes Mike loves El. He knows, people! He spends the entire season giving Mike advice and pushing him towards her. Why would Will need to "accept" something he's been actively supporting before and during this scene? In his mind it's fully unrequited and he's operating within that reality in the most selfless, helpful, unobstructive way! He's not in denial, he has no hope.

What they really mean is he needs to move on and that this scene is somehow an indication that he is, but again, no: "[I] need you, and [I] always will" is Will's final projection before he cries his eyes out, and then later on we see him miserably staring at them again. The fact is, Will has accepted his "reality", that just didn't lead to him getting over Mike. No, it led to him sacrificing something he poured his heart into to save Mike’s relationship because he thinks that what will make Mike happy is to be with El, so he's making that happen. He is a bigger M!leven shipper than anyone. He still loves Mike, shows no signs of letting go, but he's just that selfless. And it's perfect, because no amount of knowing Mike loves El seems to change how much Will loves Mike. Incredibly inconvenient for a "plot" that relies on the gay character’s silly feelings magically disappearing out of reverence for a het couple and their deep soulmate love……

But this is why some people try to invent an imaginary arc where Will was somehow trying to get in the way of M!leven/had hope Mike could feel the same way, because otherwise you just get: Will likes Mike, knows it's hopeless, and then it randomly fizzles out lmao. Everyone knows that's not an arc; there's no change, no development, nothing learned. Plus, if Will is already in full acceptance of M!leven endgame…what’s next seaon's alleged rejection going to do/change? Nothing, Will’s feelings aren’t dependent on Mike reciprocating as has been shown, so the only purpose would be rubbing salt in the wound. And again, you end up with not an arc but a flat, depressing line. Will likes Mike, knows it's hopeless, has it painfully reaffirmed that yes it is hopeless, and then fizzle. If you know stories you know this makes zero sense, and therefore is not happening 👍

[ihfmseatsoch]

I NEED DAD CURLY I KNOW U ALR DID THJS BUT FUCK. I’m a slut for curly🥹🩷 fem reader pls

haii sorry this took a hot minute.. im terribly sick -_- but i pushed through for dad curly #priorities. i should mention that the reader is OF LEGAL AGE ! even though they're still in school. they're supposed to be 18 or college age. Okay tyanks 👍🏻

genre: smut

word count: 3.3k

warnings/content: incest, age gap jealous curly, reader is daughterwife maxxing HARD, loss of virginity, inexperienced reader, rough sex, creampie, daddy kink? idk hes your literal daddy so. shrugs

–

Curly wasn't a jealous man.

He was always secure and confident in his relationships, never wanting to come off as an overbearing boyfriend who spit in the direction of any man that looked his partners way. He didn't see his past lovers male friends as competition, in fact, he was more than welcoming towards them.

Which is why he can't identify the feeling twisting in the pit of his gut, one that just felt plain unpleasant, when he saw you hug a boy from your class as you were leaving your schools parking lot. Curly had come to pick you up as he usually does, and he's commonly greeted with a kiss on his cheek or a warm embrace from you immediately.

Not this.

Curly has always been fine with his daughter being friends with boys. He trusted you enough not to do anything stupid, not to make the wrong decisions. You'd never even had a boyfriend before, so it wasn't like the men in your life were always in the back of his mind. So why? Why did he feel so shitty? Protective, even?

What on earth was different about this specific instance that made him feel like he wanted to pull you away and drag you straight to the car?

You finally make your way to the car, opening the passenger side door, plopping yourself in the seat beside him. You lean over to give him one of your usual kisses, right on his scruffy cheek. "Hi, daddy!" You beam, an ear to ear smile plastered on your sweet face.

Your affection does nothing to alleviate the ugly feeling of possessiveness inside of him. The fact that you look oddly chipper right now makes him suspicious. Was it the unnamed kid you were holding so close just moments ago that's making you so cheerful?

Still, he feigns casualness, giving your shoulder a light squeeze as a sign of his own love for you. Curly enjoys the way you still give him the title "daddy", even at your age. He's repressed his own realization that he likes it a little too much. "Hey, sweetheart." His mouth feels strangely dry as he forces a smile. With hesitance and an intense battle with his own common sense, in which his common sense lost, he continues, "So... was that a friend of yours?"

You blink in confusion briefly, before realizing who he's talking about. "Oh, yeah! For about a week, that is. He just moved to town, so I've been showing him around and stuff. He's super nice." Your giggle after you mention how "nice" he is makes him feel even more on edge. He recognizes a crush when he sees one. This isn't good. Not at all. His heart plummets into his stomach, sizzling in its acid.

"Ah. Right." He nods curtly, leaving the conversation at that, as he lost his previous strength to pretend he doesn't feel awful right now. His foot presses down in the gas pedal a little too hard. The car ride is unusually silent. Typically, he'd be asking all about your day right now, what tests you have coming up, how your friends are doing, and you'd talk his ear off about it in return. There's none of that today, besides the hum of the cars engine and the sound of him tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, feeling fidgety.

Curly feels terribly guilty, noticing your confusion at his behavior. He can't blame you, this is the most awkward you two have been with each other. He wants to say something, apologize for his attitude, but his throat swells up whenever he tries to speak. Is this jealousy? The soul crushing feeling he's heard so much about?

But why would he be jealous of his own daughter's relationships? He should be supportive. He should be a good father, push away these maddening negative feelings and talk to you. Physically, he can't find it in him to do that. Everything about this is irrational, he knows it.

You said you'd only known that boy for a week, so why does he feel... afraid? Scared that he'll take his precious girl away from him? Curly can't stomach the idea of you giving your love to some random kid instead of him. The thought that one day you'll give someone else a fraction of the adoration you give him is unbearable. His baby girl wouldn't need her daddy anymore.

Only when you're both halfway to your home is when you decide to speak up, "You okay, Dad? You're acting weird."

Your words ring in his ears deafeningly. How can he even begin to explain himself? He's a shameful excuse of a father. Clearing his dry throat, he utters, "I'm fine, hon. Guess I'm just tired. Pony Express has been kickin' me in the ass more than usual." Curly manages to come up with a lie on the spot. He feels even worse for lying to you.

The loving concern etched in your face at his fake excuse makes his heart hurt. Now he's made you feel bad for him. God, what is wrong with him today? He must really be losing it. This midlife crisis shit is no joke.

"You should take more breaks, daddy. I don't like you being a workaholic all the time." Your hand moves to tenderly rub his tense shoulder, his skin tingling with goosebumps from the contact.

Swallowing, he responds, "I know, I know," with a sigh, he runs a hand through his wavy blonde curls, some of the strands turning grey in his old age, which he tries to ignore when he looks in the mirror. "Overworking myself is just part of the job, babydoll." Curly holds back a frustrated eye roll at Pony Express's mistreatment. Maybe he was more stressed than he thought. Maybe that's why he's behaving like this today. Nothing more. Right?

"I still don't like it," You say with a shake of your head, aware of how corrupt the company your father works for really is. "I'll tie you to the couch if I have to, if it gets you to relax."

Curly knows you're joking, but for some reason, the faux threat sounds suggestive to him. His thoughts quickly become inappropriate. He can't help but think about how he would feel... completely at your mercy, restrained, utterly submissive. "Mm, that'll be the day." He replies, trying to inject his usual humor in his sentence, shooting you a soft smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, showing off his subtle tooth gap, one of his teeth a little crooked in a cute, boyish way.

After he pulls into your driveway and you two hop out, you walk as close as you can to him, holding onto his arm, holding back from feeling up his muscles. That'd just throw you into a whirlwind of inner conflict.

"I'm serious, though." You continue onto your previous conversation. "You'd better not do anything but relax tonight, or you're gonna hear it from me." It's amusing how much you sound like you're his wife, making demands like that. It feels... oddly nice to him, to imagine you playing that roll. You already do, in a way, with how you consistently fuss over and take care of him. "Yes ma'am," he lets out a short chuckle, his smile genuine this time, "I'll be good. Promise."

And he doesn't break his promise, mainly because you absolutely don't let him. He thought of sneaking off, making a few important phone calls, but you keep an intimidating eagles eye on him. It's endearing how much you care. Any lingering traces of his earlier jealousy are nearly gone, that stupid kid long forgotten. He knows that he's the most important man in your life. He always will be. It was silly to think you'd ever leave him. He's your daddy, you'd always be his.

You cook him dinner as he leans back in the couch, the stress melting from his weary bones, the weight of his responsibilities nonexistent tonight. This is bliss, Curly thinks. His sweet little girl doting on him, making his favorite meal while he doesn't have to lift a finger for once. Maybe this is what he truly wants out of life. Domesticity. Not having to worry about a thing except being pampered.

You make two plates of food, one for you, and one for your beloved father. You curl up on the couch beside him, resting your head on his broad shoulder as you eat dinner together. The atmosphere is more peaceful than Curly's felt in a long, long time. His heart swells with love and gratitude for you, for the lengths you go to just to make him happy.

What did he do to deserve a daughter so perfect? So beautiful, sweet, and kind? He could go on and on with endless praise for you. Curly wraps one arm around your shoulder, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss on the top of your head. "Thank you, sweetheart," he mumbles into your hair, "You're too good to me."

"Nothing's too good for you, daddy." You give him a kiss right below his ear in return. "I love you. Just wanna take care of you."

The simple act of endearment has his face heating up, the butterflies in his chest fluttering wildly. Pull yourself together, Grant, he tells himself firmly. He's just pent up. Hasn't been with a woman in... he doesn't know how long. And since he doesn't do hookups, preferring something more meaningful, he's been stuck with his own, lonely hand. Curly has to clear his throat to find his voice, "I– love you too, honey."

You two are still cuddled up on the couch, long after you finish eating. Curly's mindlessly watching a cooking show, in which a woman only seasons her chicken with salt and pepper. Thankfully, your body pressed to his is distracting him enough that he doesn't grimace imagining the plain flavor.

He knows he's disgusting, pathetic, in fact, for being so flustered right now. As he slowly rubs circles on your back, he can't help but think how good your form feels in his hands, soft and warm. It's like he's a hormone-ridden teenage boy, except in reality, he's your dad, and you're his own flesh and blood.

Against his better judgement, Curly's hand trails down to your hip, giving it a light squeeze, as if to test the waters on how far he could go. You don't react negatively, only cuddling closer to him. What the hell is he doing? He mentally screams at himself to stop. Stop thinking about how much smaller you look against his large frame, how easy it would be to pick you up, or push you down, your pretty eyes wide and staring up at him as he towers over you, hunched over your body–

He's hard. And, officially, a sick fuck.

Curly desperately hopes you don't notice the tent in his pants, he prays to whatever's out there that you don't look down, please, don't notice how perverted he is. You'd never forgive him, he's sure. You'd never look at him the same. He crosses his legs, a pathetic attempt to hide his rigid cock.

It comes to a point where the discomfort in his groin and the lust burning his insides becomes too much it bear. Taking in a shallow breath, he finally decides on doing the unthinkable. "Hey... Sweetheart?" Curly sounds uncertain in himself, his confidence teetering on a thin tightrope. You turn your head to him, ever so trusting.

"Yeah?" You say, wondering why his body is so taut all of a sudden, and why his index and thumb is fiddling with the hem of your shirt. He struggles to look you in the eye as he continues, "Can... Can I ask you for one more thing?" His heart thumps in his throat.

You nod, always willing to satisfy his every whim. He's given you the best life he possibly could, you owe him everything in return, don't you? "Of course," You smile, "Anything."

That innocent look in your eyes only makes him feel guiltier. Curly stays quiet for a few seconds, just contemplating if he's really about to do this, if he's really willing to possibly ruin your relationship forever. His hand moves up to cup your cheek. God, it's practically bigger than your face, he notices. Baby blue eyes get lost in the sight of your lips, making him swallow from sheer temptation as he inches closer to you.

It takes your brain a moment to process what's happening, and when it does, strangely enough, you don't pull away. If this is what he needs, why would you deny him? He's your dad, the person you trust the most in the world. He wouldn't do anything that could hurt you. He bites back whatever self-control he has left, pressing his lips to yours, soft and experimental. The biggest spark he's ever felt ignites in his chest, your lips feel unlike any other woman's he's ever kissed. You're perfect.

You can't say you haven't thought about this. You've always found your dad handsome, and charming; more than the average daughter would. You've never kissed a boy before, and you're more than ecstatic that Curly is your first. You link your arms around his neck to pull him in closer, deepening the kiss, desire building up in your abdomen embarrassingly quick.

His hand gravitate towards your waist on instinct, the kiss which was originally sweet and tender turning into a full-on make out session. You let out a quiet whimper at the intensity of it all, his cock twitching in his pants at the cute sound. Fuck, he's never wanted anyone like this before, so ravenously. Curly makes himself pull away for air, too far gone to feel any semblance of guilt anymore, especially when you're looking at him so eagerly. You want this too. There's nothing to feel bad about.

"Is this okay, honey?" He breathes, chest heaving as he pants. "You alright with this?"

You nod silently, unable to find any words to say in your aroused state, your body overwhelmingly hot all of a sudden. That's all the consent he needs from you in order to lay you on your back, peeling off every article of your clothing with delicate care, marvelling at your bare figure under him.

You feel incredibly shy having him see you like this, covering your breasts with your hands, pressing your thighs together. "No, no. Don't do that, baby." he cooes, gently coaxing you to reveal yourself to him again, much stronger hands spreading your legs apart so he can get a good look at your cunt, glistening with slick. Knowing that he was the one who made you this wet so easily elicits a low groan from him.

"Look at you," he murmurs, sighing shakily at the very sight of you, "Dripping wet, just for your daddy." You whine as he runs his thumb along your slit, stopping at your puffy clit so he can rub the sensitive nerve in slow circles, his experienced hands making you gasp in surprise. A rough palm reaches up to gingerly fondle one of your tits, your father peering intently down at you from above.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he sighs, like he's in awe, "You know that? Such a pretty girl. Always have been." He pulls his sweats down just enough for his dick to spring free, and he hisses at the sudden rush of cool air against his tepid shaft, tip flushed red. Your eyes widen at its size. Massive, is once way to describe it. A thick vein runs down his length, pulsing with warm blood. Curly notices the intimidated expression on your face, and he presses a soothing kiss to your forehead. "I'll go slow. Don't wanna hurt you. S' gonna be okay, babygirl."

His tone is as consolatory as ever, and you can't help but believe him. Why shouldn't you?

It stings when he prods the head into your untouched, virgin hole, the ache worsening as he pushes in further. "D– Dad–" you whimper, eyes brimming with tears of pain, "It's not gonna fit, it hurts–" Curly shushes you, stroking your hair back to calm you down. "I know, I know, baby. It'll go away, I promise." His breathing stutters, a stifled moan erupting from his chest, your walls gripping him tighter than any pussy he's ever felt in his life.

When he's fully inside you, he tries his hardest to restrain himself and be gentle, lightly panting, his sweaty forehead pressed against yours as he thrusts cautiously, paying close attention to every nosie you make so he knows you're feeling good. "Takin' me so well, honey," he grunts, "Y' feel that? You're taking daddy so deep." He presses his hand to your stomach, where you can feel his cock prodding against your insides.

Your little whines and moans at every thrust inside you don't help his quickly diminishing willpower to keep your first time nice and gentle. He wants to be careful with his baby girl, he truly does, but you sound so fucking cute when he goes just a little harder, making you squeak in surprise.

You really can't blame him for ending up with your legs hanging limp on his shoulders, pushing them back so his cock can hit all the right angles, making your pussy clench and squeeze around him so tight, it only encourages him to fuck you as rough as you can take it. Your slick runs all the way down to your ass, his his balls making a wet slapping sound every time he rams into it.

"Dad– Daddy–" is all you can mewl, breathless, your brain short-circuiting from pleasure, practically going dumb from his cock. "Yeah?" Curly grins, relishing in the effect he has on you, "Daddy's making you feel so good, isn't he?" All you can do is nod stupidly at his question, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You abdomen pulsates with warmth, an unfamiliar tingling washing over your body.

"I f– feel weird." You tell him with a trembling whimper. "You're alright, just means you're close." Curly reassures you, simply. "Daddy wants to see you cum for him, honey. Don't hold back."

It doesn't take long for the build up tension inside of you to burst, your back arching as complete euphoria coarses through every inch of your body, a gutteral moan escaping your lips. "There we go, that's my girl," Curly croons, "Cum all over daddy's cock. You look so gorgeous right now, sweetheart."

Due to his age, he takes a little longer to get close to his own orgasm, continuing to fuck you through your overwhelming sensitivity. "M' almost there," he rasps, his head moving down to rest in the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along your flushed skin, "Nngh– gonna fill you up, baby– you want that? Want dad's cum inside of you?"

Your hazy state of mind makes it difficult to consider the risks, so you nod, agreeing to whatever he says.

"God, fuck– I love you, I love you, I love you–" he babbles, and with a throaty groan through clenched teeth, he spills his release inside of you, the warm and gooey substance filling your hole to the brim. Curly's legs give out, causing him to collapse on top of you, his broad chest pressed to yours, his body hair tickling your skin lightly.

When he finally catches his breath, he pulls out, and grabs a warm cloth to wipe away the cum that seeps from your hole. "You alright? Didn't hurt you or anything, yeah?" He asks, genuinely concerned, and a little guilty for not being able to hold himself back. "I'm fine..." You mumble, exhausted, "Just a little sore."

"M' sorry, sweet pea." Curly gives you a kiss on the cheek, as if it'll make everything all better. To be honest, it does help a little. So does his meticulous aftercare, and his cuddles.

You don't really want to think about the future consequences of your father cumming inside of you right now.

–

[pooplyface1423]

Through Dusk and Dawn

"Through dusk and dawn" means throughout the entire night, from the time it starts getting dark (dusk) until the first light of day appears (dawn), essentially encompassing the whole nighttime

Shadow x reader (platonic)

Warnings : none other than Shadow already has a tiny soft spot for reader

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One of your worst nightmares coming to life was not what you planned for this year.

Losing the people u cared for the most was awful.

Never thought it would've come to this you thought

You were nowhere to be seen during the guardianship stuff always hiding in the bathroom to wipe tears of sorrow and guilt people might ask why you feel guilt but the thing is you had nothing to do with it you just feel like you should of done something but didn't you blamed yourself for it.

Once Tom and Maddie got full guardianship over you they finally got to take you home with them.The drive from the foster care centre and to there home was wierd Tom having lost his brother (ur dad) was hard on him but they always had this promise to each other that if something went wrong that the other would care for their family and Tom wanted to keep that promise and make it true.

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*Car stops*

You got to were you would call home

Tom and Maddie help you w ur 2 bags while u carried ur main bag w all ur most personal things

Once the door opened sonic and tails were the first to try to greet you

“Oooooh hiii you must be y/n! Nice to meet you!” Said sonic with a warm smile

“Sonic she can't hear you…” said Maddie

“Oh let me speak louder my bad HI IM SO-” I mean she's deaf sonic she can read lips but she can't hear anything”says Maddie

“Oh I'm Sorry”

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Maddie an Tom help u set up in the room you'd stay in

As you entered you saw a beautiful room decorated with a small vase of flowers and a candle in a nightstand next to it you saw two small beds in one of them was a small black and red hedgehog sitting down reading a book

Feeling interrupted shadow wanted to say something

“I'm sorry shadow but quickly we wanted you to meet y/n she's my niece and she will share a room with you for a while until we find a way to set everything up” says Tom looking at shadow hoping for a small “okay” or a head nod

Shadow nods his head and continues reading

After putting ur things away Tom writes on a sticky note

“Wanna have pizza for dinner?”

You wrote back

“Ok sure” just wanting to be left to your own thoughts

Tom could feel that you were probably not in the mood for anything so he waved goodbye and left

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Now being alone (w only shadow being there) you finally felt the wave of grief hit you like a stack of bricks a few silent tears slipped down your cheeks onto ur knees as you hugged them tighter hoping everything was a bad dream even if you knew it wasnt….

Shadow took notice of this since he could hear what you thought were silent sobs were actually not that silent but quite enough he could hear.

Jumping of his bed he thought he should see what's wrong since he did overhear Tom and Maddie talk about why you were coming to sonic tail and knuckles. He slowly climbed up into you bed and tapped ur hand gaining ur attention

“Are you okay” he said, feeling a small shock as he was reminded of Maria as soon as he saw our tear filled eyes.

You read his lips and nodded your head in a no motion

Shadow felt a small crack in his heart seeing you like this,as it reminded him so much of his sweet maria.he said something gaining no response and thought maybe u wanted to be left alone as he was about to go back to his bed you held onto his hand patting the side next to you signalling him to sit next to you

You quickly grabbed a notepad u had in you bag and wrote

I'm sorry if u said anything but I can't hear you

“It's okay, do you wanna write about why ur crying?” he wrote back

Not right now can you just stay with me for a bit?

You wrote back waiting for a reply

Shadow slowly nodded, feeling a small wave of happiness in his heart being able to be wanted was not new but it was a feeling he's almost forgotten about since the last time he felt it was with her..

as he say back next to you layer down motioning him to do the same

As you both layer in your bed in comfortable silence he noticed you seemed less tense as you did when u got here.after a while he poked his head up to she if you doing okay only to see you in deep sleep. Feeling like his job was done he thought he should head back to his bed but he felt like his heart was telling him to stay feeling as if he left you would disappear.

Around 20 minutes after shadow Slowly felt his eyes starting to feel heavy he wanted falling asleep next to you but before anything happened he snapped back as he heard someone approaching quickly teleporting back into his bed

As the door opened he looked up from the open book seeing tails and knuckles acting nonchalant he looked at them with a speak or get out face

Seeing that tails spoke up

“Maddie wanted us to let you and y/n know that the pizza is almost here and to come to the table” he said sheepishly

“Well be there in a bit”he said as tails and knuckles left the room

Shadow walked over to your bed and slowly shook you awake

He quickly wrote on the notepad “pizza I here let's go eat” as you woke up.

You quickly nodded as you were hungry quickly, getting up and following him to the kitchen

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Finished!

Thanks for reading!

I lwk LOVE how this turned out hope you guys like it too<3

Taglist

@bluefang1 @fawnsies @sabakarp @z3zabytez @ellaprime7 @buddee @star-maker-rain-dancer @generousdiamond

[fallen-w1ngs]

'' DANCE WITH ME? ,,

|| pairing: hawks x gn!reader / keigo takami x gn!reader

|| warning: hurt/comfort, good ending chat trust

|| word count: 1.1k

|| happy new years guys 🩵

You and Keigo had been married for a year. You knew exactly what you signed up for the moment you started dating, he was very clear about how his job was.. Well, busy. And how it kept HIM busy. You understood this and welcomed it, honestly you liked the alone time you got. There had been times you two have fought about this, but only once or twice. Despite fighting less, your worry grew the more attached you got with Keigo. The more you fell for Keigo.

Today was.. Harsh. You woke up alone in bed, per usual, the place you go to for your coffee was closed because of a villain attack on it, and you were late to work. Because of, guess what! A villain. Your boss was on your ass about, you forget half of what he yelled at you about, it was fine, all of that was small cracks in a glass cup that was overflowing with water. What thr final blow was?

Youe beloved husband, Keigo.

You had planned a date together. You'd been planning this date for a week or so. The SECOND you clocked out of work you rushed home and put on your best clothes! Matching it with a bag Keigo had bought you and of course, your wedding band.

By this time it had been 7:00 PM. Your date was for 8:00 PM! Alright, Keigo had an hour to get ready if he got here.. Soon.

But, as you watched the minutes go by, constantly checking for a call, a text!.. Keigo was no where to be seen. Once it turned 8:20 PM, it had been to late, your reservation was too late and you couldn't go. And honestly? You didn't wanna go out anymore. You just sat on the couch, scrolling on your phone, still in your date night outfit as you heard familiar flapping on the balcony.

Keigo! 20 minutes late, to arriving TO the resturaunt.

"Babe, I'm so sorry-"

You put a hand up as you stood up and crossed your arms in front of your chest. Your brows furrowed as you looked him up and down. You looked over him, he seemed a bit disheveled, some scratches but nothing too bad.

"You're late, Kei"

He stood there, his lips pressed in a thin line as he looked at you. He didn't have anything to say. His wings ruffled behind him as the blone man let out a tired sigh.

"I'm sorry, love. I promise I tried to leave patrol early, but the commission called me in for a meeting right after patrol ended. It was a whole debrief and-"

Keigo was rambling again. He often did this when you were upset with him, or if he was upset at himself. Your gaze softened as you listened to him. He had a harsh day too. Did it excuse his actions? No, not at all, you're his beloved spouse. He should've been there. He knows it.

Which is why it shocked him when you walked up to him and wrapped your arms around him.

".. You'll have to make it up to me."

You said softly. This could've been the BEST time to make a teerible innuendo, but instead Keigo let out a shakey breath and hid his face into the crook of your neck. Giving a small nod to your comment.

"I'll make dinner, I'll- I'll make whatever you want, or order in whatever you want,"

You shook your head with a small laugh. You pulled away from him and took out your phone. He watched in confusion as you tapped your fingers against the screen... What the hell were you doing? He got even more confused as when you started playing a song.. THE song. The song that played at your wedding.

You slowly placed your phone on the coffee table as you slowly walked back to him.

"You stood me up. I'm upset at you,"

That stung his heart, but he understood. He stood there, listening to you talk.

"You'll need to make it up to me," Keigo nodded. ".. So. To make it up to me by a little,"

You extended your hand out. The moonlight coming out from the glass and hitting your skin just right. Keigo looked you up and down, in awe of how.. Gorgeous his spouse was.

"Dance with me?"

Keigo's breath hitched as those words left your mouth.. He took a few steps close to you and placed his hand into yours, moving around to get into dancing position. Just like your wedding.

The two of you danced to the music, nothing but the music and your steps filling in the silence. As if none of you dared to even breathe. But it was okay.. If you closed your eyes it could be like your wedding day all over again. The most stressful, the most tear filled, and the best day of both of your lives. It was exactly like you had imagined.

Once the song ended Keigo leaned into you, hiding his face on your shoulder. His wingd drooping down as he held you close.

"I'm so sorry, my love."

"I know."

You stroked his hair softly as he just held you close. He knew you had every right to be upset. He knew he could've done better, this had happened before. Keigo felt terrible. You had been so patient with him, so good to him. He didn't feel like he deserved it, but you always assured he did.

"I'm so sorry,"

He repeated himself as you held him close. God, you hated hearing him this.. Sad.

"I've been terrible.. I'm sorry.. I've been a bad husband to you."

You pulled his face away from your shoulder and stroked his cheek with your thumb. A small smile on your face as you looked over his features.

"At least you're self-aware"

You had a small smirk on your face as you said that. Ah, teasing.

"I try to be."

He let out a small chuckle as he gently pushed his lips against yours. That night, you assured him he wasn't a bad husband, that he wasn't a bad anything. He needed your reassurance a lot, and no matter how upset you were with him, you'd lend it. Afterall, he was always there for you, it was the least you could do.

Of course, Keigo still made it up to you, taking you on an extravagant date and pampering you at anytime. Hell, he didn't even let you brush your teeth by yourself. He was such a dork, but you loved him.

And god, does he love you.

|| God, this is lowkey rlly badly written but yk

[lesbozoid]

I shouldn’t get so worked up about this because it’s something that was written in 2003 but it’s been 21 years and people still praise it so. Elphaba’s ending in the musical is a disservice to her character.

Before I go on with this I have to say I obviously love musical!elphie with all my heart even in act 2 but I think the writing for her during the entirety of it was AWFUL and out of character and I need to sit down with Winnie holzman and Stephen Schwartz and ask them what was up wirh that.

Anyways, the big moment of the whole show is defying gravity. It is a big moment to watch. It is a big moment for the story. It is a big moment for Elphaba. Dg is the moment on the story where she decides that she has to give up her desire of being liked and accepted for the sake of doing the greater good. It is not an easy choice to make, but it’s one that she knows she’s gonna have to own and live by for the rest of her life.

And then comes Wonderful (which I love as a song btw), where Elphaba more or less goes “Geez, I guess fighting against fascism does get pretty tiring? Doesn’t it? I will give up on my fight and join the fascist wizard then! Because I want to be liked and accepted. It’s almost like I didn’t give all of that up for the sake of doing the right thing five years ago!” And only comes back to her senses once it gets personal to her again with Dr Dillamond.

Then, comes the second offender, which is arguably the least worse one but still one that bothers me anyways. The cornfield scene. Not the fighting with Glinda over fiyero, because as much as I hate it, it’s not the worst thing in the world, I guess. It’s the fact that she stands there and lets her new boytoy point a GUN at Glinda and does nothing??? I get they were fighting but that’s still her best friend??? WHY WOULD SHE JUST STAND THERE???

And the worst of all: the end. The fact that she dedicated YEARS to the cause and trying to seek justice for the Animals only to go “Gee whiz I guess I’ve done my time now! I guess now I should just surrender and run away with fiyero and have my happily ever after!” WHY. WOULD. SHE. EVER. DO. THAT.

The beginning of that scene being her begging Chistery to at least try to continue speaking is probably what makes it all worse to me like.. you can see how much she cares. You can see why she’s so dedicated to her cause. And then two minutes later suddenly she’s changed her mind and gives up? To run away with FIYERO?

And I find that argument that she only did that because she somehow knew Glinda would take over so stupid. Glinda hadn’t defeated the wizard yet. She only managed to after Elphaba’s “death” because she realized Elphaba was his daughter. There was no way for Elphaba to know what was actually going to happen once she was gone.

And those shippers will insist that’s a good ending and a happily ever after and that he gets her more than anyone else THE JOKES WRITE THEMSELVES

[caterkinnie]

Hi Caterkinnie! Your work is really amazing, thank you so much for all your work in the fandom! I think anyone who sees your headcanons days are brightened! May I request Rook, Jamil, Ruggie and Azul or Vil (up to you) with a friend they have been deeply in love with for a long time, who's just broken up from a long-term bad relationship. I'd find it really interesting to see the angst the boys struggled with while their friend was in such a bad relationship--a relationship that would somehow never end no matter how awful or neglectful their partner was (up to your imagination how their partner was)--and how they handled not letting their deepening love/crush show (if that's how they'd handle it. I honestly have no idea as to how Rook especially would handle this situation). And of course, now that there's been an unprecedented breakup, what now? I hope that wasn't too specific. I just thought it'd be interesting because I just broke up from a long-term relationship @__@ (5 years for me... In my case, I was dating a selfish man child. According to my friends, it was heartbreaking to watch because no matter what they said/did or what he said/did it would never end, so they just had to watch the rollercoaster play out while white knuckled). I haven't seen headcanons on this type of situation yet and how the boys would respond, so I'd love to see your headcanons. Not to mention, your writing is so top knotch, and I feel like you really get the complexity of so many of these characters, that I was pumped to ask when I saw your requests are open. If it's too specific or you're not feeling it, I get it! I hope you keep rocking on with this blog and whatever else you're up to! Thank you for the hardwork!

Supporting you through a bad break up...

❥ ⌗ characters: Rook hunt, Jamil Viper, Ruggie Bucchi, Azul Ashengrotto.

❥ ⌗ Summary: After a long long time with the person who you thought was the love of your life, ended the relationship suddenly with the pretext he was no longer in love. You decided to confide your feelings with your closest friend; a friend who happened to be deeply in love with you.

❥ ⌗ tags: tw for toxic relationship, though details aren't given, there are mentions of arguments and toxic behaviour. didn't proofread enough. sorry if ooc.

❥ ⌗ a/n: sorry anon!!!!!!! I've had this drafted since you requested this... and only now i finished it!!! i couldn't bring myself to delete it as I loved the idea so much. Hope if you see this that you're doing so much better now!!!!

Rook made it very clear from the beginning he had feelings for you, but would not attempt to show them.

He also could see the signs of what seemed to be an unhappy relationship that sooner or later was going to come to an end; signs you probably didn't notice.

He's a very caring man, ever since the moment he met you he always tried to help you in any way, and this was no exception; but he also knew, as much as it hurt him, you needed time to realize that the person you loved didn't treat you in the way you deserved to be treated. It hurt him so deeply to see the way he talked to you, but Rook wasn't a hero who would yell at your boyfriend to stop. He had to be subtle — trying to calm the waters when he was around, defending you in his own way. His heart ached, sometimes with jealousy, sometimes with rage — sometimes both, but he refused to let you know about any of these emotions. He was there for you, whether you needed help or advice.

He helped you because he loved you, he constantly told you how important you were to him and there was nothing he wished more than to take you away and treat you like a queen. But alas, his love was not only unrequited, you were in love with someone else.

Oh, how glad he'd be if only one day you woke up and chose him! The selfish part of him wanted to rush, but he knew he had to be patient... Someday it'd happen, or at the very least... you'd be with someone else who makes you happy, and that's something he would like as well.

But when you come to him to tell him everything that happened...

He's going to comfort you and walk you through the feelings the breakup left… In those cases, he's not as mischievous as he typically is. His voice is soft and soothing, as he tries to get your mind off things, as well as being of support when you need it the most…

He can't bring himself to court you while doing so, although deep down, he wishes someday you'll see his efforts, even if he's not exactly expecting you to fall for him…

However, your now ex-boyfriend will avoid you like the plague, and runs away when Rook is nearby, and you wonder if he had something to do with that….

Jamil warned you about your partner a few times, he didn't want to get TOO involved to avoid making you upset, but every time the subject was brought up…. he felt a deep heaviness in his heart that he hated.

The least thing he wanted was for you to notice his feelings. But maybe he was too insistent on the idea that it was best if you broke up…

But those were genuinely good feelings. He saw how bad you were being treated and constantly found himself thinking… “I could do better, so much better…” Yet he hated himself for it. What could he do, if you never saw anything in him?

He feels all of these things, yet it's like… he only wants you to Not Be with your boyfriend. Jamil believes you'd never love him back as well.

If you came to him for advice, he'd give it to you— but his voice was always restrained… and soon enough, he just tried his best to act as if his feelings weren't there, as if he was just a friend who gave advice and was exhausted by you not following it.

But then… it finally happened, but as happy as he felt, seeing how much it affected you.. it didn't feel like victory (even if it was!)

He wouldn't constantly seek you out. But if you need to vent he's always there. He's not good with comforting words… but his honesty can be soothing and grounding. As well as he might sometimes just try to aid you in general, after all… acts of service (unfortunately) are second nature for him.

Whether it's for food… studying… anything. You don't even have to ask… But he's not expecting you to like him back. And not in a cute “he'll wait for you!” kind of way… he thinks you'd never reciprocate his feelings. And he's not sad about that! Jamil just accepted that as a reality. Whether that changes or not is up to you…

Ruggie's pretty straightforward… Not with his feelings, but with his opinion on your boyfriend.

He takes every chance he gets to say something about him and as much as he tries to play it off as a joke, his voice is bitter… He hates him so much!

Ruggie wants to believe he only hates him because you're someone he could dare to call a friend! He denies any other underlying reason for his distaste for your boyfriend that isn't that he's unfair with you... But obviously, he's a bit prideful, a tiiny bit. He couldn't help but try to impress you every time he could. He wished that you'd see how you deserved to be treated… And maaaaybe how much better he is. And he tries for so long, it's kind of obvious if you know him well. If you're observant enough you might have caught on to his feelings.

However, that all changed when you went to him looking for the comfort of a friend, after your relationship ended…

Like Jamil, Ruggie wanted to feel happy, he wanted to celebrate! Finally you weren't tied to that man-child! You could finally focus on yourself and maaaybe on him….. But when he saw how heartbroken you looked, he couldn't bring himself to act on those emotions. You were hurt, and he hated seeing you like that. Though he's pretty awkward at it… He'll try his best to comfort you, but his words feel stiff and you can tell this is not his area of expertise…

He does so much better when it comes to acts of service. He'll try his best to distract you, make you laugh… which is something he'd love to hear again. He won't dare to mention his feelings however. It'd take a long time before he even considers that he could have a chance.

Unlike everyone before, Azul'd rather stay quiet.

He already hated the idea of having feelings for you, and just wanted to forget you existed to make the tightness in his heart disappear. He wasn't one to believe in love, let alone the fact that you were already committed to a relationship…

Yet because of that same reason he wasn't able to leave.

He had a special way of aiding you out of uncomfortable situations and stupid arguments, almost appearing randomly and requesting attention from one of you. The way he dissipated the tense air by just intruding (literally) was almost comical.

Azul's not sure of what to do, as he always regrets helping you, he says you're hopeless and it's up to you to change the situation… as if he doesn't care at all unless you're going to make a deal with him, but then he ALWAYS comes back, lends a listening ear, maybe greets you with some tea and a few snacks… Oh he pays for them, don't worry. It's a gift.

Then he goes back to feeling guilty for helping you, and frustrated for liking you.

….He's a complex guy.

One of those times, you came to talk to him at his office (which the twins knew you had special priority over his other tasks. Even if he never asked.) and told him what happened, you had an argument and it escalated, leading to the breakup… In which he seemed calm as always listening to you… asking you to sit on the couch as he paid attention to your woes.

He was at a loss for words.

Yes, he did believe this was for the best… but this ACTUALLY happening made him realize he never planned what to do beforehand. He repeated the typical routine, something sweet to drink… something soothing to eat… He's a good listener, and he will easily ignore his crush on you to help you better.

His feelings were always second place for him, and Azul seems like the kind of guy who low-key wishes you don't love him back, as he wouldn't know what to do if you did... (even as flattered as he'd feel, he still struggles with trusting people.)

However… if you're too uncomfortable with tour ex… He might ask the twins to aid you if you wish to not see him again! For free of course. You shoule accept his kindness… as he typically doesn't offer such services for free.

Reblogs are appreciated!!!

[forgetmesunflower]

“Well, Miss Stephanie.”

Stephanie’s head collides with the top of the cupboard she has shoved her head in. She flops back to sit on the kitchen tiles while rubbing her head. “Hey, Alfie.”

He’s already in his night clothes, the occupants of the manor on a mandatory rest night after the previous’ rough Arkham breakout. Alfred was under the impression Stephanie went back home to her mother after today’s dinner. “You were not the person I expected to be rummaging in here this late.”

“I was uh–” She pulls her hand down to rub the back of her neck. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d make something, but all you’ve got is ingredients. There’s nothing ready-made in here.” 

Alfred hums and mentally runs through his quick options. “Did dinner still leave you with an appetite?”

Stephanie rises and brushes herself off. “Oh, well, I don’t know if I’m actually hungry, per se. Maybe this is a bad habit to get into. I’ll just drink some water then go to bed. Sorry for waking you, Alfred.”

“Now hold on a moment.”

She pauses at the entrance of the kitchen and peeks over her shoulder.

Alfred opens a cupboard and pulls out a clipped bag of mixed nuts. He pours a serving or so into a bowl, picking around for more cashews and pistachios. He sets the bowl and a glass of water at the counter just as Stephanie takes a seat at the raised stools.

Stephanie peers into the bowl. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome. Make sure to drink the full glass too.” He reclips the bag closed to return it to the cupboard.

“Why nuts?” she asks, inspecting one between two fingers before popping it into her mouth.

“Well, you did ask for ready-made–” Stephanie huffs a laugh. “–and they’re rich in protein, magnesium, and melatonin.”

She looks up at him with furrowed brows. “I thought melatonin was a hormone or whatever. How does a food have it?”

“Melatonin supplements exist, don’t they? Why can’t it be found naturally in our food as well?”

“Huh.” She rests her chin on her hand as she inspects another nut. “I guess that makes sense.”

Stephanie throws a few nuts back at a time while Alfred pulls out two bundt pans and fetches several bags of frozen dinner rolls from the freezer. He smiles to himself as he remembers young Bruce’s face when he found out Alfred doesn’t make the dough used for this recipe from scratch. After spraying the metal, he begins to open each bag and pour them into one of the pans.

Alfred doesn’t startle when she appears behind him to look past his shoulder. 

“What’re doing?”

“Preparing breakfast.”

“This late?”

He hums. “It rises overnight, then it goes into the oven in the morning.” He opens another bag, and Stephanie leans against the counter and fiddles with the plastic of an unopened one. “I believe the common name is Monkey Bread, but I’ve always known it as Land of Nod, which is an idiom for sleeping.”

“That name sounds kind of familiar. So it’s just bread?”

“Not quite. Would you like to help?”

Stephanie’s mouth twists as her brows come down. “I’m pretty awful in the kitchen. My mom won’t let me make anything that has like, more than two steps.”

“I assure you this is quite easy, and I’ll be right here to lead you along.”

“Um.” She looks to the side, then at the bundt pans, then tentatively up at Alfred. “Okay, but if it goes wrong, it’s not my fault because I warned you.”

Alfred chuckles. “Certainly. Let’s fill up the rest of these pans then.”

“You want all of these bags?”

“Yes. We’ll be making two batches.”

She side-eyes him before joining in ripping open each bag for its contents to tumble into the pans.

"Toss those in the trash while I get the ingredients, will you?”

“On it, chef.” She attempts to gather all of the bags into her arms until a few fall to the floor. She huffs then starts stuffing the bags inside one another, resourceful as always, even with the mundane. Like Martha. Alfred smiles into the spice cupboard. 

She returns with a skip in her step, and Alfred deposits his needs on the counter. 

“Most of these things I go by sight rather than exact measurements.”

“Uh oh.”

“Don’t fret. I’ll walk you through it. Open up that pudding mix and sprinkle it on the frozen dough.”

“Pudding? How does that work?”

“It won’t turn into pudding. It’s for glaze and flavouring.”

“Glaz– You know what? I’m not even gonna ask.” She peels open the packaging easily. “How much am I sprinkling, chef?” 

“Go over it lightly. Yes, like that. A little lighter–”

Stephanie rips her hand away, wide-eyed. “Did I put too much?” 

“No, you’re doing just fine. There’s hardly any on there yet, but we want to make sure it goes all the way around.”

“Oh– Okay.” She finishes smoothly, if a little more nervous. The second pan is easier.

“Perfect. I’ll do the cinnamon for this one, and you can do it for the next. How about that?”

She nods, brow still wrinkled. “Sure.”

“We’ll just do two teaspoons, tapping the side lightly as it goes around, like so.”

“What’s the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon?” she asks as she takes the measuring spoon from him.

“A tablespoon is bigger.”

“How do you remember which is which?”

“Memorizing, I suppose.” He watches as she taps off the last of the cinnamon. “Perfect. Well done, Miss Stephanie.”

Her cheeks darken in the dim lighting. 

“Brown sugar now. Take this cup and scoop some out.” He pushes the bag of brown sugar over, and she fills the cup a third of the way. “More than that.” She eyes him but dips it back in, coming back out a little fuller. He raises an eyebrow.

“More? Isn’t this just pure sugar?”

“Brown sugar is a bit different from granulated white sugar, but this is indeed meant to be sweet. Fill that cup and sprinkle it around the dough.” He leaves her to the task while moving on to melt the butter. 

“You want this whole thing on just the one pan? Then another for the other?”

“Yes, exactly that.”

She turns around when she hears the buttons of the microwave. “I didn’t know you used that thing. Thought you’d think it was below you.”

He smiles. “No good cooking utility is below me, but I do favour the stove, oven, and good old kettle.”

Stephanie grins back. “Right.”

They pour the butter over the dough and cover the pans with dish towels. “And now they rise until morning.”

Stephanie yawns. “Great. I think those sleep nuts are working.”

“Then I shall see you in the morning when you can observe your hard work.”

She rubs her arms. “I wouldn’t call it hard.”

“I’m sure you’ll be proud of your creation all the same. Now off to bed with you.”

“Got it, got it. Night, Alfie.”

“Rest well, Miss Stephanie."

───

“How’d it turn into that?” She stares into the oven with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“The bread rose and absorbed the ingredients.”

“Huh. Cooking’s kinda like magic.”

“Yes, yes it is.”

With everyone finally seated at the table, Stephanie is more than happy to be the first to dig in. “Dang,” she whispers around her mouthful. She finishes her first bun before Tim takes a sip of his coffee. “I mean, it’s not the delicacy that is the classic waffle, but–” She dips her head and smiles at her plate. “–it’s definitely not too bad.”

Bruce hums, and Tim snorts into his coffee. “Okay, ‘waffle queen.’”

Stephanie tips her head to the side to turn her smile towards Alfred. She mouths, “Thank you.”

Alfred nods and returns to tidying up.

Alfred taught them to cook.

He loves cooking, loves making dinner for a full table, working around different restrictions and preferences, and that's all the more reason to teach each of them how to love it just the same.

Bruce has trouble eating after his parents' death, appetite diminished and joy for new and exciting foods gone. Alfred places a plate on the counter in front of him (Bruce won't eat in the dining room anymore; that was a place for family meals), but all he does is stare.

Alfred tries several new things, anything to peek his ward's interest. Eventually, it becomes simply making sure he gets basic vitamins and minerals. This morning he cuts up fruit in between mixing the crepe batter. Fibre is easiest to get into him in the mornings. Bruce, already nine, comes down to the kitchen and watches him.

"I'll just be a few moments more. Will you get the bowl of custard out of the fridge for me, my boy?"

Bruce complies with a nod. He pulls out the bowl and curiously peeks into the saran wrap covering. Alfred angles away but keeps an eye on him as the boy peels the wrap back and sticks a finger in. Alfred can't imagine scolding him for it when he brings his finger to his mouth and his eyes light up in satisfaction. It's gone quickly, but Alfred has gained his own spark as Bruce sets the bowl beside him on the counter, reaching up on his toes to see the strawberries Alfred slices up.

Alfred holds up one slice as if inspecting it. He pops it into his own mouth. Bruce's eyes go wide before smoothing over. Alfred hums. "I'm not sure if this size is quite right. Will you taste test it for me?" He offers a slice to Bruce.

Bruce scrunches up his nose. "Size doesn't affect taste."

"Oh, but I assure you it does. See for yourself."

Bruce gingerly takes the thick slice of strawberry and slips it between his lips. It sits in his mouth for a while before his jaw moves to chew.

"Well?"

"It tastes like a strawberry."

"Okay, well now try this smaller one." It's thin and flimsy when he passes it over. Bruce eyes him skeptically but slips it in just the same.

Bruce's eyes widen and his lips pucker. "That is different. Why is it different? What'd you do to it?"

Alfred can't help a smile. "Nothing, my boy. That is simply the art of cooking. You want to give it a try?"

His tasks are simple assortment of ingredients and putting the crepes together while Alfred keeps him away from the stove, and Bruce keeps sneaking bits of fruit and dollops of custard, wrinkling his nose at the taste of raw batter.

Nine is a little young to start learning to cook, Alfred thinks, but Bruce eats two and a half stuffed crepes before he realizes he's full. It's the largest breakfast he's eaten in months. Bruce joins Alfred in the kitchen for almost every meal after that.

───

Alfred taught them to cook, and I want to give them each a comfort or otherwise meaningful dish to feature here.

Any suggestions?

I've had thoughts for making one of Dick's being something I grew up loving that Alfred learned to make (with Dick's helpful input to make it closer to home), though my German family's food, I've found, might be more Mennonite-specific. Like wareniki (vareneki) & schmaundt fat or something as simple as kuchen.

I'd love to explore different culture's foods with this, so if you have suggestions, any at all, please share!!! It doesn't have to be culturally specific though. I'd just really love to expand on this idea and started with something simple (and white haha) for Bruce. Though it could always change!

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!james potter x reader 6

prev

wc: 1785

cw: r thirsting over james, someone almost drowns (but doesn't)

me: i have a bunch of lockwood requests in the drafts and yet this is all I've been able to write lately... if anyone has any lifeguard!james requests pleaseeee send them over bc he is my favourite boy <3 ALSO just realised the last part was posted in AUGUST!! no wonder i wrote this so fast i have been missing him!!!!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

it was stupidly hot. you weren’t usually one to complain about warm weather given england got so little, but the whole summer had been one big heatwave and it was becoming a little overwhelming. english girls weren’t made for the heat!

still, at least you had the public pool to make up for the sweltering sun, and that same underfunded public pool brought you james, so maybe everything did happen for a reason.

that brought you to the present moment, lounging on a sun chair, feeling the tan appear on your skin. lily was next to you flicking through a magazine you’d brought her from the supermarket and you were enjoying the sight of james in all his glory on duty.

you really needed to ask yourself why you could stare at him for hours doing, quite literally, nothing. you’d already seen him up in his chair plenty of times, observing the water below him, flirting with you, passing the time. and yet every time he was on shift you noticed something new. a new muscle that tantalised you, a new spot of highlight that glittered under the sun. james was simultaneously an enigma you chipped away at every day and an open book you didn’t need to; it was maddening.

you were torn from your daydreams by the lifeguard whistle piercing the air. you propped yourself up with a start, deadly curious as to what could have happened. in all your years coming to the same pool, you didn’t think you’d ever heard the whistle sound so aggressively. the most dangerous thing that had ever happened there was a few kids running around when the sign on the gate specifically prohibited it.

and yet, there was a little girl, flailing around because one of her armband floaties had popped and she was simultaneously being dragged under while one arm was stuck on the surface. you and lily watched on in horror as she struggled, hand over your mouths and reading material long forgotten.

luckily, james was onto it. in one surprisingly graceful dive, he was in the water, shooting across the pool to where the girl was struggling, all the witnesses frozen in shock or fear. he was there in an instant, scooping the girl up and bringing her to the side of the pool, hoisting her up to sit on the edge. when they were both on dry land, your surprise was doubled to see the girl was tiny, maybe five at the oldest.

james sat with her on the edge of the pool as she coughed and spluttered and spat out a bit of water, then walked her over to the tiny medical room on the edge of the facility. stillness and silence weighed over the pool for a moment before a few kids resumed their game of marco polo and life returned to normal.

“i know it’s awful that something could have happened to that girl, but now she’s safe am i wrong in saying that was super hot?” you asked lily and furrowed your brow when she laughed.

“you are so gone,” she shook her head with a smile, “but you’re not necessarily wrong.” in your defence, if you were looking strictly at james and not at the surrounding scenario, it was a pretty spectacular display. despite all his muscles, of which there were many, james was apparently light on his feet, making a dive even the olympians would respect, muscles shifting under his skin as his arms raised above his head. and then when he came up for oxygen, curls flying through the air as he shook the water off him and sparkling chlorine droplets adorned his skin. he truly looked godly; not of the same universe that everyone around you was created in.

plus, of course he was good with kids. as if that didn’t make your ovaries want to explode. james was so gentle with the little girl, rubbing her back as she got the water out of her lungs and holding her little hand as they plodded down to the medical room.

you went back to daydreaming under the sun fuelled by the new experiences you’d had, images of james and his muscles doing all sorts of nasty, delightful things. you were blissfully tanning until the squawking, rage-filled voice of an adult woman pierced through your ears up to your brain. had anyone seen her daughter? five years old, small, brown hair, pink swimsuit? you propped yourself up on your arms to watch the commotion, cringing silently as old hilda glowered, reluctantly explaining the situation.

it felt like the whole pool was silently waiting as james and the little girl emerged from inside the medical room. and while the girl waddled across to her mother like a puddle of sunshine, james was the grey cloud hovering over her.

you watched with keen interest as james and the girl’s mother engaged in a very heated discussion you couldn’t quite hear, all flailing arms and stern glares. you took advantage of the moment of his distraction, admiring the way his brow hardened as he got angry, something you’d never seen before. the glitter in his eyes was no longer mischief but rage, and his jaw clenched and unclenched like it was the only thing keeping him from yelling. maybe it was. while the whole situation was obviously very scary and tragic, your thighs were clenched for dear life as you watched the veins in his arms appear while his fists clenched. you were not going to tell lily what you were imagining about james’ hands but you were sure she could already tell.

the spat ended with the woman turning on her heel and dragging her daughter out of the facility as james stared them down, anger still radiating off of him. he stood aimlessly for a few moments and you got the impression he didn’t know what to do with all the angry energy he’d amassed. and while you had a couple of ideas, you figured hilda probably wouldn’t appreciate it on the ancient pool tiles. groaning softly, you swung yourself up and out of the plastic sun lounger, treading lightly towards him.

“hey there, baywatch. think it’s time for your lunch break yet?” james broke from his reverie to look at you, frustration still evident on his features.

“that was so — she was so —” he paused for a moment to self-soothe, “yeah, i think a break is a good idea.”

“okay,” you laughed a little, taking james’ cap off his head and putting it on your own, “you go sit with lily for a bit and i’ll be right back.” with that you took off out of the pool grounds, legging it to the supermarket down the street. nothing worth having was ever cold at the dismal pool bar.

you returned only a few minutes later with drinks in hand, approaching lily and james from behind. you could tell from their impassioned gestures they were still rehashing the earlier situation.

“an angel returns,” you announced in a sing-song voice, setting your hands on james’ shoulders. he looked up at you, visibly relaxing as he smiled. you couldn’t help but return it.

lily got the first choice of the three different beverages you’d chosen as you knew james would never complain. she took the iced tea while james chose a coca cola, leaving you with the lemonade. james reached forward to take the can as you came to sit on the edge of his lounger but you wagged your finger, cracking the top open and taking a sip.

“favour tax,” you explained, handing the drink over with a grin. james stumbled over his words as he took it, settling on just taking a sip to avoid having to come up with something witty. you hoped the red in his cheeks wasn’t just sunburn.

“so do you wanna keep talking it out or shall we distract you with our theatrics?” lily asked, clipping her hair up and off the back of her neck. james thought for a moment, head tilted to the side like a puppy.

“entertain me,” he commanded in good humour, “if i keep talking about it i’ll just stay angry all day, and who’d waste a day like that when accompanied by two beautiful ladies?” you and lily both rolled your eyes at his playful flirting, carrying on a conversation you’d started earlier in the day about neighbourhood gossip.

james’ shift ended just before sunset, when orange was just beginning to paint the sky. lily had left a half-hour earlier on household dinner duty, but you had nothing to do and knew james would be off soon enough.

you wandered down the town’s streets together, only half dressed from a day at the pool and admiring the multicoloured sunset.

“y’know everyone’ll really love you now, if they didn’t already,” you said, kicking a rock unfortunate enough to cross paths with you, “i mean, saving a little girl from drowning? that’s overachieving, even for you.” you studied james’ reaction, making sure it wasn’t too soon and you weren’t crossing lines. james, ever the ray of sunshine, just laughed heartily.

“what can i say? new kid in town has to make a good impression, especially when there are always such pretty girls hanging around to watch me on duty.”

“and who would those pretty girls be?” you asked with faux-innocence, looking up at james through your eyelashes. he looked at you as if to say you know, but then retorted anyway.

“hilda and edith are quite the silver foxes, don’t you think?”

“sure!” you laughed, “if you like wrinkly boobs down to your hips.”

“as opposed to yours!” james retaliated instantly, the widening of his eyes making it abundantly clear that he had not thought it through, but you weren’t letting him go that easily.

“which are…” you prompted, satisfied when james’ hazel eyes began flicking between your eyes and your bikini-clad chest, almost as if he couldn’t control it.

“which are… great! good? perfect? please let me stop talking,” he begged, only serving to make you giggle.

“come on, baywatch, let’s get you home. you’ve had a big day.”

“you know, sometimes i think you might even have a heart in there somewhere, pretty girl.” james slung an arm around your shoulder and you faltered under his weight, the two of you stumbling home in a mass of limbs and laughter.

would just like to clarify that there is nothing wrong with wrinkly boobs down to ur hips! all boobs r good boobs <3

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

14+27 for bez/vale plz ;))))

bezz/vale: 14 (inexperienced lover) + 27 (feminization)

It isn’t a joke to Bezz, not really, so nobody laughs.

Valentino doesn’t laugh here, either—because he likes eager things, pretty things. Smooths his hand over Bezz’s thighs, right to the flappy hem of his skirt.

“Looking sharp, Marco.” He pretends to flip up it, smiles indulgently at Bezz pushing it back down again, blushing blotchy down into the collar of his demure, pink shirt. “Did you dress up for me?”

Bezz squirms in his lap. Makes a noise—harsh, high-pitched—when it gets him right over the budge in Valentino’s ratty jeans.

“Yeah,” he stutters. “No, I mean—”

“Ah, that means I’m quite lucky, no? To get the prettiest girl at the party.”

He sucks in a breath, shivering, dives for a kiss before Valentino can keep talking. It’s a mess, overeager, their teeth knocking together. Valentino pulls at the overgrown, surprisingly smooth curls at the base of his neck until Bezz backs off a bit, so he can fine up the press of their lips, his tongue inside Bezz’s mouth.

It’s nothing he didn’t expect. Hardly the first time he fucked a starstruck twenty-year-old.

“So,” he says, conversationally, a hand squeezing Bezz’s ass and the other wiping off a smudge of his bright red lipstick. He sways against him, then straightens. “Have you sucked cock before, Bezz?”

Bezz’s mouth thins, pressed together. “Yeah—”

“That’s nice,” Valentino cuts him, before he knows that look in Bezz’s face, stubborn, bullish. He thinks he’s about to find out a lot more about his Academy riders than he presently wants to. “Down you go, eh, love?”

Amorina, his voice saccharine. And it hits bullseye. Bezz is near liquid when he slides down, bracketed between Valentino’s thighs, hands shaking on his fly—one, two, three tries just to get the button open. He bats him off, laughing, and gets his own dick out.

He taps against the seam of Bezz’s lips until he opens up sweetly, on command. Hooks his fingers into the insides of his cheeks just to be mean, watch him struggle to swallow what is probably a noise he thinks is embarrassing.

No matter, Valentino will get them eventually. Soon, it looks like.

“Careful, now.” This is not the reason he perfected a professorial, vaguely condescending tone, but it works. Bezz is wide-eyed, lashes thick and long with mascara, paying enraptured attention—same look he gets when he’s correcting his breaking or something. “Teeth are very bad, in a blowjob.”

“Vale.”

“Sorry, sorry, baby,” he says, in obnoxious English, “floor is yours.”

Bezz presses a couple kisses on him, leaves those lipstick-waxy, red marks. Then spits. He’s shaking a bit, this guts-on-the-floor, awed look in his eyes, but Valentino doesn’t mention it, only mutters out, “pretty,” voice an octave rougher than he was expecting.

Bella, bella, bella. Bezz is tenting his skirt.

But for all his talk, he needs Valentino’s hand clamping hard on the back of his neck, controlling the first thrust so he doesn’t choke.

[sky-scribbles]

Party Banter with Rook!Blackwall

Harding: You know, for a moment back there, I thought you might actually get through to Solas.

Thom: Regret’s something we have in common. I thought… if I reached out to him, told him I understood what guilt drives you to do…

Harding: But no. ‘Do not compare your regrets with mine, Thom Rainier!’

Thom: He’s right, though. He can at least say he did his crimes trying to stop tyrants. I did mine for coin.

Harding: Uh, yeah, and then you faced up to it and decided no one else was going to get hurt for it except you. Solas is right. He’s nothing like you.

—

Lucanis: Do we have a problem, Warden Rainier?

Thom: You kill people. For gold.

Lucanis: I do. Venatori. Blood mages. The political rivals of those who hired me.

Thom: And that’s enough for you? Someone flashes a purse, and you’re ready to murder over some nobles’ spat over which of them gets the bigger fancy house?

Lucanis: Depends on the size of the purse.

—

Bellara: Um, so, about the mayor of D'Meta's Crossing? I just… do you really want someone like that? In the Wardens, I mean.

Thom: I won’t defend him. But he wouldn’t be the first Warden who let innocent people die for gold, and got another chance from the Order.

Bellara: He doesn’t deserve it. Like, really, really doesn’t deserve it.

Thom: No. Neither did I.

—

Thom: Do you ever get people trying to bribe you? To look the other way, or drop a case, or...

Neve: It's Minrathous. If I took even half the bribes I've been offered, I could buy an estate in Hightown.

Thom: It takes a special kind of strength to resist that.

—

Thom: I got a letter from Sera the other day. Don’t ask me how she got it to the Lighthouse.

Harding: ‘Friends’, I bet. And hey - she dealt with the Fade for you! So what'd she say?

Thom: Well, there was a lot of calling Solas a shite-faced arseknuckle. And then she told me not to get killed, or she’d yank my beard ‘til my head came off.

Harding: Aw.

—

Lucanis: Rainier, I do not knife civilians. Everyone I have killed has been embedded in politics. Their hands are never clean.

Thom: And you're sure you’ve never made a mistake? Never got a passer-by or a child caught in all the blades and arrows? Never gone in without knowing everything, and got someone hurt?

Lucanis: Of course not. I’m a professional.

Thom: You’re a mercenary with a cape.

—

Thom: You could’ve left Dock Town. A mage. Talented. You could’ve gone anywhere, chased a better life.

Neve: If I left, I’d be abandoning people who never got that choice. I’m good where I’m at.

Thom: I hope you know how admirable that makes you.

Neve: Not that admirable. If I got that estate in Hightown? Too far to walk to Hal’s fish stand.

Thom: (laughs) Good priorities.

—

Davrin: So, Rainier. Heard a lot of rumours about how you joined the Wardens.

Thom: (uneasy noise) You know, Warden Blackwall told me your past gets forgotten after the Joining.

Davrin: A nice ideal, but it never stands up to the gossip. But you’ve shown your worth.

Thom: Enough for me to have one of those griffons when we rescue them, d’you reckon?

Davrin: (laughs) We’ll see.

—

Thom: I knew someone like Manfred once. He was a spirit, but he sort of… grew his own body.

Emmrich: Oh! A spontaneous incarnation! Do you happen to know what kind of spirit he was?

Thom: Uh… the kind that looks like a young man, but reads minds and flits about trying to make everyone feel better about themselves?

Emmrich: Ah, Compassion! A rather more advanced emotion than Curiosity, and therefore capable of manifesting a physical body, rather than needing to adopt a vacant one.

Thom: More advanced? Right. That explains why Cole used to talk to me about living with the weight of regret, and Manfred spent ten minutes yesterday poking my face to see if my beard came off.

—

Neve: So, you know Dorian?

Thom: Does anyone who’s been in the same room as him for thirty seconds get a choice about knowing Dorian?

Neve: And didn’t always get along, I take it.

Thom: He’s… he’s not so bad. We might’ve judged each other by first impressions back when we met.

Neve: And what’s your impression now?

Blackwall: Still too fancy for his own good. But it says exactly who he is that he’s fighting against slavers and blood mages. I think I got the better deal with the darkspawn.

—

Taash: I heard the Inquisitor turned into a dragon.

Thom: No, she… didn’t. But she did get one to fight with us once.

Taash: She did? What kind? How’d she do it?

Thom: Sort of… gold? And she drank from this pool of elven magic, and… that somehow let her ask it to help us. I think.

Taash: Did she ride it into battle?

Thom: Uh… No.

Taash: Oh. I would’ve ridden it into battle.

—

Thom: Emmrich, do you know what those demons were the other day? The ones that wouldn’t leave me alone?

Emmrich: Ah. Those were manifestations of Shame. A variant of the Despair spirit.

Thom: Right. Don’t know what I expected.

Emmrich: If it’s any consolation, I find that one can tell much more about a person from the more benign spirits that gather around them. I catch glimpses of them about you often. Valour. Fortitude. Honour.

Thom: I hope to be worthy of them.

—

Thom: Lucanis, have you ever regretted any of your kills?

Lucanis: Not so far.

Thom: So this is what you’re fine with being? A man who takes nobles’ money and lives in luxury with your bloodied hands? That's the life you chose?

Lucanis: Not ‘chose’, exactly. It is what I was trained to be since my childhood.

Thom: Wait. You were – who trains a child to be an assassin?

Lucanis: You met my grandmother.

—

Davrin: You held up pretty well in the last fight, Rainier. For an old man.

Thom: Whelp like you’d better watch what he says around a senior Warden.

Davrin: Why? You’ll tell me to do the fifty press-ups that your creaky bones can’t handle?

Thom (laughs) I’ll stop letting you borrow my best chisel.

—

Bellara: Hey, um, Thom? You know that little rocking griffon you made? Could you make, I don’t know, a bigger one? Like… adult… person-sized?

Thom: (chuckles) You never have a rocking griffon growing up?

Bellara: No! They’re not a Dalish thing! Because you can’t really rock. When the aravel’s moving, I mean. So… no, it’s a dumb idea. Forget I said anything.

Thom: You want me to make it a rocking halla?

Bellara: Yes please thank you.

—

Emmrich: How far you must have travelled, with both the Inquisition and the Wardens!

Thom: I like being on the road. Keeps a man honest.

Emmrich: I rather envy your fearlessness of the wider world. It’s so recent that the end of the Circles allowed me to travel freely outside the Necropolis.

Thom: Must have been freeing. Having the whole world suddenly open to you.

Emmrich: And rather overwhelming, I must admit. When I compare myself to you – a brave Warden, combatting the Blight across all of Thedas…

Thom: Trust me: compare the two of us, and that’s the only way I’ll come out better from it.

—

Thom: We fought quite a few dragons in the Inquisition. Almost got eaten once by some pissed-off beast in the Hinterlands. Kept throwing its dragonlings at us.

Taash: Fereldan Frostbacks are crappy mothers. First sign of trouble, and it’s ‘here! Take my children!’

Thom: (laughs) The worst was the lightning-spitter off the Storm Coast. Spent twenty minutes hacking away at its scales, rest of my team unconscious on the ground.

Taash: Wait - you what? That's not how you fight dragons. You can't just stand there and hit them. That's stupid. And boring.

—

Lucanis: It’s how the Crow Houses work. Children of the House lineage are trained from our infancy.

Thom: Andraste’s fucking tits.

Lucanis: It’s necessary. If Illario and I had been coddled… Caterina pushed us hard and young, because she wanted us to survive.

Thom: I don’t… (sighs) The things people do to children.

—

Harding: I never thought to ask - how come Varric changed your nickname?

Thom: I asked him to go with something else. 'Hero'... that was a name he gave to Blackwall.

Harding: Well, he chose the right name. You know, 'cause Rooks move in straight lines. And you charge right in there, don't mess around with fancy words, just hit things til they drop. You could say you're -

Thom: Don't do it, Lace.

Harding: Straightforward.

Thom: (chuckles) You're as bad as Sera.

—

Emmrich: Master Rainier, I wanted to say – I hope you know that you’re the only person here who looks at you with any harshness.

Thom: I – (sighs) You don’t know everything about me.

Emmrich: I would never claim to. But I know that you place yourself before your allies and the defenceless without hesitation and with utter selflessness. I know you understand your Warden oath better than many of your superiors. I know that you are a good man.

Thom: … I wish I knew what it was like to be you. Seeing the good in everyone, living or dead.

Emmrich: Then I hope you’ll permit me continue to see the good in you – until you can see yourself as I do.