#you should all take a look in the reblogs
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aydascomprehendsubtext ¡ 2 days ago
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There are 15 debunking fact checks in the notes i could reblog but the fact that this has 32k notes is making me feel like I can be mean here for a second. Can anyone remember when Donald Trump was served articles of impeachment by the US House of representatives (with a D majority) TWICE during his first term and acquitted in the Senate (with an R majority) both times (including once with marginal bipartisan support that has now evaporated because it was in the immediate aftermath of January 6th a condition which- well we don't need to get into it). Can we take ten seconds to google "how many votes in the senate do you need to remove a president from office united states" (it's 60). Can we look at a screenshot of a tweet from PoliticsVideoChannel and draw some conclusions about the reliability of our sources.
If you seriously believed this for any period of time and ESPECIALLY if your response is a serious call to action to #VOTE, a sentiment I saw repeated over and over again looking for fact checks, you have a profoundly poor understanding of US politics. Which is fine to be clear! We all have poor understandings of many things, many of which are more important than US politics. But when this is the basis of a call to action regarding your engagement with US politics I think it's worth asking if you really understand what voting is for.
Anyone interested in dispelling other common misconceptions about the United States federal government and how it works should check out the Federal Reserve's role in the economy, the filibuster and its impact on actual realistically possible legislative efforts, and the demise of Chevron and what it means for administrative governance. Knowing how our government institutions operate in practice will give you valuable insight into what kinds of problems voting in federal elections can and can't solve.
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kkentobox ¡ 2 days ago
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀SAY MEOW! W/ JSCHLATT.
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description: when schlatt misses his two cats back home, he finds comfort in the little japanese pet shelter! what melts his heart even more? seeing all the animals take a special liking towards his partner.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀tags: gender neutral reader! establish relationship, pure fluff, jack & trevor mentions, reader being a cat whisperer, mentions of future children.
author’s note: did you guys miss me? ;p say yes or i’m LEAVING. i also noticed i finally have enough posts to make a masterlist, so i promise that’ll be up soon! if you guys have any ideas on what i should upload next, let me know, feedback is always welcome! reblogs & likes are always appreciated <3! do not steal or plagiarize any work belonging to kkentobox !
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the group had taken a pause in filming, the calm atmosphere of the shelter almost feeling too intimate to push cameras into the faces of the animals. but within five minutes of being in there, jay had managed to attach himself to a tiny orange kitten; “he’s just like jambo when he was a baby” he said with a sparkling look in his eyes.
stuck to his hip, you watched with endearing eyes as he pet the small creature cradled in his arms, “do you think we can smuggle him back home?” he whispered into your ear, immediately smiling at how you cringed from how ticklish the air felt so close to your ear. “i can stuff him under my shirt and gaslight the worker i was already pregnant coming in.”
the kitten had been peacefully dozing off with the gentle strokes schlatt had placed on his head, with sleepy eyes it looked up at you upon hearing your voice, only to grow restless in jay’s arms.
frowning at the sudden change, schlatt safely released him onto the ground before watching the cat jump into your lap. furrowing his eyebrows in curiosity and sadness, “what the fuck man?” he groaned quietly.
jack, with a small dog in his arms, began laughing upon realizing schlatt was genuinely upset that the cat no longer liked him. with laughter coming out of your mouth as well, you couldn’t resist holding the kitten close to your chest. it wasted no time in feeling comfortable, purring against the fabric of your shirt and snuggling in deeper.
“poor baby, he didn’t deserve you..” you cooed down at the kitten, “damn right he didn’t.” “i wasn’t talking to you, jay.” “fuck you.”
though he didn’t understand why the cat suddenly didn’t like him, he wrapped an arm around your waist to bring the two of you in closer. “aw, look, he’s sleeping!” you excitedly whispered, looking up at jay with a wide smile. he couldn’t help but match your energy, “i see that, probably found his new home there, baby.”
trevor and jack normally like to give the two of you privacy by keeping to themselves, this time they couldn’t help but truly watch over how enamored their tough friend looked watching you admire the kitten in your arms. “i can’t tell if he looks stupid or sweet..” “he’s like.. both? i can’t decide if i like it or not.” trying to distract themselves with their own pets, every couple seconds they’d spare a glance at the two of you and snicker.
“jay.. look at the other cats real quick..” you had looked up and were taken off guard at the other cats in front of you guys, seemingly trying to scratch their way out of their cages while looking directly at you guys. “you’re a pussy whisperer, doll.” a deadpan look was thrown in his direction, one that didn’t wipe the smug smirk off his face.
the worker noticed the behavior of the other animals, coming over to see if they’d continue if she placed the sleeping kitten in your arms back into it’s cage. “they’re taking my baby away.” you jokingly sulked against schlatt, “you’re starting a revolt, you deserve it.” pressing a kiss to your hair after you gently slapped his chest.
only the cats hadn’t stopped. they continued. they all wanted to be held by you, which only made schlatt more jealous at the fact they didn’t want him too. taking this as a sign to leave so they can settle down, the group made their way back onto the quiet streets of japan.
“can cats imprint on people? what if i’m destined to take all of those cats?” looking at schlatt, his arm being held by your two arms as you walked behind jack and trevor.
shaking his head, “that’s not fair, doll. they’d have a favorite parent, at least jambo and soup love the two of us equally.” enjoying his response, you added “i honestly don’t see anything wrong with that, jay.” scoffing, he jokingly pushed you away, “you’re so greedy.”
quickly getting back into his embrace, “you’ll just have to accept that in every situation, i will be the favorite!” he peered down at you, a small smile growing on his lips the more he looked at you, “i suppose i can get used to it, just teach our actual kids to remember me once in a while, yeah?”
though the two of you had talked about your future together before, it always managed to make you swoon knowing how dedicated he was to make sure it happened. every mention he made of your future wedding, children, home left you wanting to kiss him stupid. he’s grown to make comments often the more you guys grew more serious and the longer you guys were together.
bringing your intertwined hands to your lips, leaving multiple kisses on the back of his hand, “our children are different.. i could never allow them to forget you.” humming in content at your response, feeling his chest warm up, “i’ll be marrying the right person then.” “that much was obvious, jay.”
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rubyuji ¡ 2 days ago
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She got the Ruby ๋࣭ ⭑🎸⊹ ࣪ ˖
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“No way. I never knew how much I needed this kind of chaos until you showed up.” ᝰ.ᐟ
Genre: Slowburn, Fluff
AU: University AU
Pairing: Music Major!Woozi x Afab!Reader
Warnings: None
Synopsis: Jihoon had never been one for romance or dating—no one had ever truly caught his eye. But everything changed when he saw you bathed in the glow of red light at Soonyoung’s party, your ruby lips captivating him and making his heart race like never before. Why could you, a stranger, leave him so utterly spellbound?
Note: User rubyuji finally publishing a fic about her bias?! LMAO to be completely honest, this fic had been in my google docs for so long that I'm surprised it made it out despite the writer's block. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! Don't forget to like + reblog as form of support!
W.C: 8.3k
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Dating was never an option for someone in Jihoon’s league. His packed schedule aside, he barely left the house most of the time. Whenever his friends—emphasis on tried—attempted to introduce him to someone, the feedback was always the same: he was either too busy or seemed completely uninterested. 
It wasn’t entirely his fault, though. Jihoon had never quite found his footing in the dating world. Either the idea simply hadn’t appealed to him, or the person his friends introduced was too different for him to find common ground.
“Oh, come on! We’ve introduced you to, like, six people already, and you didn’t like any of them! You’re hopeless, Jihoon,” Soonyoung whined, dramatically flopping onto the couch beside his friend.
Jihoon barely spared him a glance, rolling his eyes as his fingers continued to move across the keyboard.
Soonyoung was a great friend—Jihoon couldn’t deny that. Even if he didn’t always show it, he cared about the guy a lot. But sometimes, Soonyoung could be a handful. His intentions were always good, sure, but Jihoon wasn’t ready to dive into the complicated world of relationships or love. Not now, not when all he could focus on was graduating, as if his entire life depended on it.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but being in a relationship is the least of my worries right now,” Jihoon sighed, closing his laptop with a faint click.
As if on cue, his other friend, Wonwoo, emerged from Jihoon’s room, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed after a long nap.
“You barely leave the house and hole up here like a damn hermit. You should take some time to relax once in a while, you know?” he quipped, leaning against the doorframe.
Jihoon rubbed his temples, his brows knitting together in mild frustration. He knew his friends meant well, but their constant prodding was starting to feel like a broken record.
Soonyoung suddenly gasped, drawing curious looks from the other two men. “How about this? We’re heading to my frat tonight—I’ve got a party planned. Maybe Jihoon could find someone to mingle with. It wouldn’t hurt, right? And if you end up hating it or don’t meet anyone, you can leave. No pressure.”
Jihoon’s mouth fell open like a fish out of water at Soonyoung’s suggestion.
He didn’t mind parties per se, but Soonyoung’s events were... something else. Case in point: Soonyoung had once woken up on the frat’s lawn after one of his infamous ragers and called Jihoon to help clean up the trashed house. But that was a story for another day.
Still, Jihoon found himself considering the idea. He hadn’t left his apartment in nearly a week, and after working nonstop, a change of scenery might not be the worst thing in the world.
Jihoon wasn’t a prude—far from it. He simply preferred to conserve his energy and steer clear of activities that drained him too much.
It was just part of his nature, and honestly, one of the reasons he couldn’t see himself dating someone too outgoing or high-energy. Still, this party might be an opportunity to step outside his usual bubble and meet someone new—someone who wasn’t just a direct connection to his friends.
“I’ll go this once, I guess. But if it’s a bust, I’m leaving immediately, like we agreed,” Jihoon sighed, his tone resigned.
From the kitchen, he heard the unmistakable sound of Wonwoo spitting out his water in shock, while Soonyoung erupted into cheers, dancing around the room like he’d just won the lottery.
Jihoon rolled his eyes but knew he couldn’t show up looking like a mess. If he was going to meet someone, he might as well make himself look presentable.
On the other hand, you weren’t exactly a fan of the party scene either. So why were you at Junhui’s frat, holding a red Solo cup, half-listening to Mingyu and Seokmin discuss some new workout Mingyu had discovered?
“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Mingyu huffed, snapping you out of your daze with an exasperated look.
You smirked, taking a sip from your cup. “Mingyu, you’re the biggest gym rat I know—besides Chan and Seungcheol. And Seok, don’t think you’re safe either. I’m not even surprised you found another workout to torture us with next week at the gym.”
Mingyu groaned dramatically while Seokmin burst out laughing at your comment. Shaking your head, you got up from your spot on the couch.
“Alright, I’m gonna go look for Saerom,” you announced, giving them a playful wave before weaving through the party crowd.
“If you see Minghao, let him know I’m looking for him,” Mingyu called after you. You gave a casual two-finger salute in response before heading to the kitchen, relishing the sudden drop in noise and the smaller crowd.
Saerom was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with Jihyo. When they spotted you, both waved you over.
“Hey, have you guys seen Minghao anywhere?” you asked as you joined them.
Jihyo shrugged, and Saerom shook her head. “Mingyu’s looking for him, right? Well, no sign of him yet,” Saerom replied.
“Figures,” you chuckled. “Also, can you believe the party’s host is MIA? Imagine Soonyoung being late to one of his own ragers for once. That’s wild.”
Saerom laughed as she refilled your cup, the three of you slipping easily back into lighthearted conversation.
Before your friends can give out another remark, you guys hear Soonyoung’s boisterous laughter coming from the living room. “Looks like I spoke too soon?” You pout in faux disappointment. 
“Hey, isn’t that Lee Jihoon? Isn’t he in your class, Rom?” Jihyo pointed out, her finger directed toward the familiar face standing beside Seungcheol. Your brows raised in surprise.
As far as you know, Jihoon, along with Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Mingyu, lived off-campus. So seeing him here was unusual—he was practically an anomaly in these parties, appearing only on rare occasions.
“That’s crazy, he’s actually at a party right now,” Saerom giggled. “We should go over to Soonyoung and see what’s up.”
You found yourself following your friends without much thought, a sudden interest in Jihoon sparking inside you.
He looks insanely good in that black button-up, and those forearms— The thought immediately made you snap back to reality, shaking your head slightly as you tried to regain focus.
“Y/N! Saerom, Jihyo! Looks like you made it too,” Soonyoung laughed, his voice bright as he spotted the three of you. Your friends rolled their eyes playfully, clearly used to Soonyoung’s usual antics.
“Yeah, we know she’s your favorite,” Jihyo teased, raising an eyebrow. “But seriously, how did you manage to convince THE Lee Jihoon to come to one of your wild frat parties?”
Soonyoung shrugged casually, glancing over at Jihoon, who was deep in conversation with Wonwoo and Junhui across the room.
“I don’t know. We talked about the party a while ago when we were at his place. I mentioned it, and he’s been holed up in his apartment all week, so I thought maybe he could use a break,” Soonyoung explained, reaching for a random Solo cup Jeonghan handed him, the latter seamlessly inserting himself into the conversation. 
“We also kinda wanted him to meet someone, but... that’s out of the question for now.” Soonyoung almost sighed as he said this, clearly not expecting much.
Your friends laughed at his comment, their attention drifting back to the conversation, leaving you free to let your gaze wander. It landed on Jihoon, just as it had moments ago.
You couldn’t deny it—Jihoon was undeniably attractive, and he was definitely your type. But you had no idea how to approach him, especially since you’d barely exchanged a word with the guy.
“Interested in Jihoon, huh? Can’t blame you. Soonyoung, Cheol, and practically everyone else has been on his case about getting a girlfriend—or at least starting to date someone,” Chan suddenly appeared beside you, causing you to jump in surprise. You hit his shoulder playfully, and he chuckled.
“I’ve barely spoken to him,” you sighed dramatically. “The only other time I’ve seen him was at Mingyu’s birthday, and the most we exchanged was him passing me a plate and me saying ‘thank you.’ I highly doubt he remembers that, considering he barely even looked at me.”
Chan laughed again, but this time he grabbed your arm and started pulling you toward the dance floor as the music grew louder and the crowd tipsier.
“Fine, take a moment to think about it. But for now, let’s dance! Give it your all—you didn’t take all of Soonyoung’s and my classes for nothing, right?” Chan yelled over the music, his grin wide.
You couldn’t help but laugh as Chan spun you into a playful dance battle, challenging you to keep up. Just then, the lights suddenly flickered off, and Junhui’s makeshift spotlights sprang to life, bathing the room in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors.
While you and Chan lost yourselves to the beat, Jihoon made his way over to where Jeonghan, Wonwoo, and Minghao were lounging, the latter two likely too lazy to join the chaos on the dance floor. He plopped down onto the beanbag next to Jeonghan, who glanced at him with mild curiosity.
“I didn’t expect to see you here. What made you change your mind?” Jeonghan asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jihoon shrugged casually, taking a sip from his Solo cup filled with Coke Zero. He wasn’t much of a drinker, so he had opted out of anything stronger.
“Soonyoung and Seungcheol insisted I needed to get out of the apartment and let loose a bit. I’d been holed up there all week, just going back and forth between home, university, and the gym, so I figured I’d give it a shot,” Jihoon explained, his gaze drifting to the dance floor.
His eyes found Mingyu in the middle of the dance circle before flitting over to you.
As you danced alongside Chan, Jihoon’s eyes lingered on you, captivated by your movements. Seokmin and Seungkwan were in the middle of their own dance battle nearby, but Jihoon couldn’t tear his focus away from you.
You looked... familiar. He was sure you had been at Mingyu’s birthday party, and he had seen you with Soonyoung around campus, but he never really paid much attention until now.
It was almost as if everything slowed down for Jihoon at that moment. He took in every detail—how you looked so effortlessly good while dancing, how the red light seemed to make you glow. Red was his favorite color, and seeing the hue reflected in the lipstick on your lips only made things worse as he tried to hide how drawn to you he felt.
“Dude, why are you so thirsty?” Soonyoung’s voice snapped Jihoon out of his daze, and he immediately felt heat rush to his face. Wonwoo laughed, clearly noticing Jihoon’s flushed ears, while Minghao tried to suppress a smile.
Jihoon was finally making progress in his love life, and his friends couldn’t be more proud of him for stepping out of his shell.
“Finally, someone’s caught your attention,” Soonyoung teased, his grin widening. “Do you want me to bring Y/N over?”
Soonyoung’s plan was falling into place perfectly. The fact that Jihoon was showing interest in you—of all people—was just ideal.
You were everything Jihoon needed. Well, almost. You weren’t big on the party scene and preferred staying in, though you did go out more often than him if invited by the right people (the ‘right people’ being Mingyu).
You had a personality that could easily draw people in, and on top of that, you were the full package: pretty, smart, and kind. But being as perfect as you were also meant that you had no shortage of admirers.
“You know, Y/N’s great. She’s practically Seungcheol’s other half,” Jeonghan said, clapping his hands enthusiastically.
Everyone around them was practically buzzing with excitement, seeing Jihoon finally step out of his comfort zone. Honestly, Jihoon felt a strange surge of courage; for once, he was ready to take a risk.
“I mean, if she’s that amazing, why not? But how do I even approach her?” Jihoon asked, glancing over again. This time, he saw you dancing with Mingyu, your smile outshining every light in the room.
“Y/N’s laid-back. She can talk to anyone if you just let her be herself,” Wonwoo chimed in. “She’s a bit of a yapper, but in the best way possible—everyone feels comfortable around her.”
Jihoon didn’t get a chance to respond because, just then, you and Mingyu started making your way toward their group, which set off an eruption of teasing from all sides.
You waved at the guys before gently ushering Mingyu off to have fun with the others, then settled on the couch beside Wonwoo. It just so happened to be the seat directly across from Jihoon.
“Y/N! You’re not really into the party scene. What made you come?” Soonyoung called out loudly. You shot him a questioning glance and laughed.
He knew you enjoyed a party every now and then, but then your eyes caught sight of Jihoon sitting next to him, and suddenly, you understood.
“You know I enjoy the occasional party, Soonyoung. Today’s no different—I just wanted to let loose a bit,” you replied, leaning forward on the couch to grab an empty red cup from the table. You filled it with whatever concoction was in the bowl nearby.
“Is this spiked, by the way? Don’t wanna end up drugged or anything,” you joked, raising an eyebrow. Wonwoo shook his head to signal that it was safe and that you trusted his judgment.
“Oh, and Y/N,” Jeonghan chimed in, “Jihoon here actually wanted to talk to you. Why don’t you two take a moment?”
A smile tugged at your lips as you realized this was your chance. Chan’s words echoed in your mind—a lot of people sought after you, but no one had ever really stood out—until now.
Jihoon caught your attention in a way that felt different, and with a little liquid courage in your system, you felt ready to take that first step. You were grateful for the alcohol, knowing that without it, you might’ve been a complete mess by now.
“Well, we’ll leave you two alone then,” Jeonghan smirked, causing you to flush. You noticed Jihoon looked just as flustered as your friends began to leave the room one by one.
An awkward silence settled between you, and you decided to make the first move, choosing to go with the flow.
After all, what did you have to lose—other than your dignity if Jihoon didn’t respond?
“I take it you’re not the most sociable type? Or a huge partygoer?” you chuckled awkwardly.
Jihoon chuckled too, nodding as he noticed your flustered demeanor. Just moments ago, you had seemed so confident, but now seeing you shy around him gave him a strange sense of comfort.
He wasn’t used to many women approaching him, especially since he had no experience in the dating scene. Soonyoung and Seungcheol had quite literally thrown him into the deep end.
Jihoon scratched the back of his neck nervously, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since the awkward silence.
"I guess you could say that," he said, his voice soft but a bit unsure.
"I’m more of a quiet type, not really into the whole party scene. But Soonyoung and Seungcheol… they’ve been pushing me to get out more. I’m not used to this kind of thing."
He gave you a small, sheepish smile, as if trying to lighten the moment. There was a warmth in his expression, a vulnerability that surprised you. It made you feel like you weren’t the only one navigating uncharted waters.
You couldn’t help but smile back, your own nervousness easing a little. "I get it. I’m not really a party person either," you replied with a chuckle.
"I like the idea of letting loose, but it always seems a bit overwhelming. I’m more of the 'quiet drink in the corner' type myself."
Jihoon laughed softly at that, the tension between you both melting away just a little bit more. It was strange, but in that moment, you both seemed to find common ground in your shared discomfort.
There was something about the way Jihoon looked at you now, something less guarded, as if he was starting to feel more comfortable.
"Yeah, I get what you mean," he said, his tone a little more relaxed.
"I’d rather be at home, with my laptop and music. At least there, I don’t have to deal with—" He paused for a moment, glancing around the chaotic party. "All this."
You laughed, nodding in agreement. "Exactly. There’s something peaceful about just being at home, away from all the noise. But hey, at least we’re both getting out, right?"
"True," Jihoon said with a smile that made your heart flutter. "I guess we’re both stepping out of our comfort zones."
You looked around for a moment, the buzz of the party now seeming a little more tolerable. "I wouldn’t say I’m exactly ‘stepping out’—more like ‘dragged out’," you teased, raising an eyebrow.
Jihoon chuckled at that, and you noticed how his eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer than usual.
The playful banter seemed to ease the nerves you were both feeling. It was refreshing to talk to someone who understood that sometimes, a quiet escape was more appealing than all the loud distractions in the world.
As if to prove his point, Jihoon glanced toward the dance floor, where his friends were causing even more chaos, and let out a long, exaggerated sigh.
"I swear, they get louder every time. I feel like I might go deaf just by being around them."
You laughed at that, and before you knew it, you were both talking more comfortably, sharing little details about yourselves. You were beginning to realize that maybe, just maybe, this night wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought.
"By the way," Jihoon said after a beat, suddenly looking a little hesitant again.
"I hope I’m not being too forward, but… if you’re not busy later, maybe we could grab a drink or something? I mean, I know this place is kind of… well, loud, but it could be nice to talk more, you know?"
Your heart skipped a beat at the offer, and you tried to hide your surprise with a smile. "Yeah," you replied, a little more confidently than you felt. "I’d like that."
The moment hung between you two, and for the first time that night, the noise of the party seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of quiet connection.
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The next day, you found yourself sitting with Mingyu and Seungkwan at a quiet cafĂŠ, the bright morning sun filtering through the windows.
You had been eager to tell Mingyu about your interaction with Jihoon the night before, especially after how much your friends had teased you about it.
Seungkwan, ever the curious one, was also there, sipping his coffee with a raised eyebrow, clearly interested in hearing what had happened.
"So," Mingyu started, leaning forward with a grin.
"How was last night? Did you end up talking to Jihoon like you said you would?" He shot you a knowing look, clearly trying not to make it too obvious that he was playing matchmaker in his own way.
You chuckled, feeling a bit sheepish at the memory.
"Yeah, we actually did talk. I mean, it wasn’t anything super exciting or dramatic, but we had a decent conversation. He's... surprisingly easy to talk to, you know?"
Seungkwan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "I thought Jihoon was like the silent, brooding type. What did you guys even talk about?"
You shrugged, a smile playing at your lips as you recalled the night.
"We mostly talked about how neither of us are really into the party scene. We ended up bonding over how much we’d rather stay home than deal with all the noise. It was actually kind of nice, just... quiet, you know?" You caught Mingyu’s knowing smirk and rolled your eyes.
"Stop it. I’m just saying we connected a little more than I expected."
Mingyu and Seungkwan exchanged a glance, and Seungkwan raised his cup in a mock toast. "Well, looks like you’re in the clear then. It’s not every day someone gets Jihoon out of his shell."
"Right?" You laughed, trying not to let your excitement show too much. "I didn’t expect it either. But I guess he’s not as intimidating as I thought."
Just as Seungkwan was about to say something else, your phone buzzed on the table. You grabbed it, expecting a random message, but when you saw the name on the screen, your heart skipped a beat.
It was Jihoon.
Hey, it’s Jihoon. I got your number from Cheol. Would you be free to hang out after your classes are done today?
You couldn’t help but smile as you read the message. Your friends were watching you closely, no doubt noticing the shift in your demeanor.
"You okay there, Y/n?" Mingyu asked, a teasing grin on his face. "Something got you smiling like that?"
You bit your lip, quickly typing out a reply, trying not to let your excitement show too much. Sure, I’d like that. I finish class around 4. How about then?
As you hit send, you glanced up at your friends. Seungkwan was grinning widely, clearly having caught onto what was happening. "Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with mischief. "Looks like someone’s got a date on their hands."
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.
"We’re just hanging out," you said, trying to play it cool. "But yeah, I guess we’ll see how it goes."
Mingyu raised his cup again, his grin widening. "You know, I always knew Jihoon had it in him. I’m just glad someone finally got him to make a move. Let’s see where this goes."
You couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at the thought. Jihoon had actually asked you to hang out. After everything that had happened last night, this felt like the beginning of something new—and you were more than curious to see where it would lead.
The afternoon passed in a blur, and as soon as your last class ended, you hurriedly made your way back to your apartment to get ready for your date with Jihoon. You were a bit nervous but also excited—this was a new experience for both of you, and the idea of spending time together in a more intimate setting had you feeling hopeful.
As you walked into your apartment, you were greeted by the sound of music blaring from the living room. Yerin, your roommate, was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.
“Whoa, slow down there!” Yerin called out with a teasing grin as she looked up from her phone. “A date tonight? Are you rushing to see him or something?” She raised an eyebrow and put down her phone, clearly enjoying the playful jab.
You froze for a second, a flush creeping up your neck. “I’m not rushing! I just... want to look good, okay?” You quickly grabbed your clothes for the evening from your closet, trying to brush off Yerin’s teasing.
Yerin sat up on the couch and leaned forward with a sly smile.
“Uh-huh, sure. You know, I was starting to wonder if Jihoon was actually real or if he was just a figment of your imagination. But now it looks like you’re actually getting ready for him.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Shut up, Yerin. I’m just trying to make sure everything goes well tonight.”
Yerin laughed, crossing her arms. “I’ll be here, waiting to hear all the details when you get back! I’m expecting the full scoop.”
You quickly finished getting ready, making sure to choose a stylish but comfortable outfit. You knew Jihoon wasn’t exactly the flashy type, so you opted for something that felt both casual and a little special.
Once you were done, you grabbed your bag and walked out of your room. As you stepped out into the living room, Yerin was still lounging on the couch, her eyes glinting with mischief.
“I’m serious, I want the full report later,” she called as you made your way to the door. “Have fun, and don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way back!”
You chuckled, throwing her a playful wave before stepping out the door.
When you arrived at the restaurant, Jihoon was already waiting for you outside. He looked a little nervous but also endearingly handsome, standing there in a smart button-up and dark jeans. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and his expression softened into a smile.
“Hey,” Jihoon greeted, stepping forward. “I hope this place is okay. I figured it might be more... private for our first time hanging out like this.”
You smiled back, feeling a surge of affection for how thoughtful he was. “It looks perfect. Very cozy, just what I needed after a long day.” You gently bumped your shoulder against his as you greeted him.
Jihoon seemed to hesitate for a moment, then reached into his bag and pulled out a small bouquet of red roses. Your heart skipped a beat as he offered them to you, his cheeks turning slightly pink.
“I... I thought these might brighten your day.”
You were momentarily taken aback by the gesture. Jihoon wasn’t the most outwardly romantic person, but the red roses made it clear how much he was putting himself into this. “Jihoon, these are beautiful. Thank you,” you said, your voice softer than usual.
“Of course,” Jihoon mumbled, his ears tinged with pink. “I wanted to make tonight a little special.”
You took the flowers, your heartwarming at the gesture. "You definitely did."
Jihoon led you into the restaurant, a sleek, modern spot known for its great ambiance and exquisite food. As you stepped inside, the dim lighting, soft music, and cozy atmosphere made it feel like the perfect setting for a first date. You quickly spotted the table he had reserved, a secluded spot with a view of the rest of the restaurant.
You sat down, and for a moment, there was a brief, awkward silence.
"So," you started, trying to ease the tension, "you’ve clearly got some taste. This place is nice."
Jihoon chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I actually googled a few places... and picked one that looked like it wouldn't make me look too much like a rookie. Not that I’m exactly experienced in this stuff," he admitted with a sheepish smile.
You couldn’t help but smile at his honesty. "Don’t worry, Jihoon. I’m definitely not an expert either. We’re both figuring this out, right?"
Jihoon nodded, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and nervousness.
"Yeah, we’re in this together."
The waiter approached, and after a brief moment of looking over the menu, you and Jihoon placed your orders. As the waiter left, Jihoon met your gaze again, his expression softening.
"So," he said, leaning in a little, his tone quieter now, "what’s been keeping you busy lately? Besides... school, obviously."
You laughed softly, feeling more comfortable now that the initial awkwardness had passed. "Honestly? Between classes and spending time with friends, I’ve just been trying to make some time for myself. It’s been a lot of balancing everything, you know?"
Jihoon nodded, his eyes reflecting a deeper understanding.
"Yeah, I get that. I’ve been stuck in my routine lately, just going to class, the gym, and back home. It feels like the same thing every day, so I figured... maybe it was time to break out of that a little."
You smiled, a soft laugh escaping you. "Well, you definitely made the right decision tonight. It’s nice to step out of the routine every once in a while."
Jihoon smiled back, his gaze lingering on you longer than usual. "Yeah. And I’m glad it’s with you."
The words hung in the air between you, but instead of making things feel heavy, they only added to the warmth between you both. Just then, the waiter arrived with your drinks, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics as the evening progressed.
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As the weeks passed, Jihoon and you began to fall into a comfortable routine.
After each of your classes, you’d find yourself grabbing a quick bite to eat at the diner near campus, or sometimes just walking home together, talking about everything from random observations to deeper conversations about life.
 It had started off a bit awkward, but now, it felt effortless, like you had both found something meaningful in the mundane moments.
Jihoon was starting to appreciate the routine. It wasn’t something that had ever appealed to him before—he’d always been the kind to keep to himself, going through the motions of class, gym, and home without seeking much beyond that. But with you, he found himself looking forward to these little moments. 
He loved hearing about your day, even the small things you thought were unimportant. Your laughter became a highlight of his afternoon, and as silly as it might’ve sounded, he loved walking beside you, his hand brushing against yours as you talked.
One particular day, after a long class, Jihoon met you outside the building, your usual spot. His eyes softened when he saw you, and despite the crowds, he only had eyes for you. You were wearing a loose sweater and jeans, your hair tucked into a messy bun, looking effortlessly cute.
“Hey, ready to go?” Jihoon asked, offering you a small smile. You nodded, pulling your bag over your shoulder.
“Yeah, just finished my last lecture. Let’s get food, I’m starving.”
“Same here,” Jihoon replied, glancing down at his phone. “How about that diner? I’m craving their fries today.”
You laughed, nudging him with your shoulder as the two of you started walking. “You and your fries. But sure, that works for me.”
The walk to the diner was filled with comfortable conversation, the two of you easily slipping into familiar banter.
As you entered the diner, you found your usual booth by the window and sat down, already chatting about how your day had gone. Jihoon, for the first time in a while, felt completely at ease.
Then as you two dug into your food, Jihoon noticed something he hadn’t before—how he found himself looking forward to this part of his day.
He was actually looking forward to seeing you, to sharing these moments. And it wasn’t just about the food or the walk anymore; it was about spending time with you.
Later that week, Soonyoung, who had been hanging out with Jihoon more recently, couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in his friend’s behavior.
Jihoon, who used to brush off talks about relationships or showing any kind of emotion, had been smiling more, his mood noticeably lighter. Soonyoung wasn’t exactly one to shy away from calling things as they were, and it didn’t take long for him to notice what was happening.
“Okay, what’s going on with you?” Soonyoung asked one day, leaning against the doorframe of Jihoon’s room, a teasing smile on his face.
Jihoon, who had been lounging on his bed with his laptop open, looked up in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You’re different,” Soonyoung said, crossing his arms. “You’re actually smiling. You’re not as... grumpy anymore. Did you get a new pet or something?”
Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no new pet. Just... you know. Life’s good.”
Soonyoung raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk forming. “Uh-huh. So, it’s ‘life’s good,’ huh? Is this about Y/n?”
Jihoon froze for a second, his eyes widening. He wasn’t exactly trying to keep things a secret, but Soonyoung was quick to catch on. “What?” Jihoon tried to brush it off, but it was no use.
“I knew it,” Soonyoung said, grinning. “You’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?”
Jihoon let out a frustrated sigh, but a soft smile tugged at his lips. “It’s not like that. We’ve just been hanging out a lot lately. I’m not sure what’s going on.”
“Oh, please,” Soonyoung laughed, throwing himself onto Jihoon’s bed.
“I’ve known you long enough to tell when you’re crushing on someone. You’ve been acting differently, Jihoon. You actually care about your schedule now. You used to skip meals like it was nothing, but now I see you going to class early, and I even saw you texting Y/n before your last lecture yesterday.”
Jihoon felt his cheeks heat up. “Okay, okay, you got me. But it’s not a big deal.”
Soonyoung sat up, his grin never fading. “You’re so obvious, man. You’re just making it worse by trying to act like it’s nothing. Just admit it: you like her.”
Jihoon sighed but couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his face.
“Fine, I like her. Happy now?”
Soonyoung let out a dramatic gasp. “I knew it! Jihoon’s got a crush! You two are so cute. But seriously, don’t mess it up.”
Jihoon ran a hand through his hair, the smile still on his face. “I’m trying not to. It’s just... I’ve never really done this before, you know?”
Soonyoung patted Jihoon’s back. “It’s all good. Just take it easy. You’re doing fine. Just keep being yourself.”
As the conversation ended, Jihoon found himself thinking about how much he had changed over the past few weeks.
He wasn’t just going through the motions anymore; he was actually living, enjoying these moments with you. And he couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—there was something more to explore between the two of you.
It was a Friday night, and you were at your apartment with Yerin and Jennie, sprawled across your couch with snacks, blankets, and plenty of gossip.
The three of you had been best friends for what felt like forever, and sleepovers were a tradition. You’d all gathered to catch up, share some laughs, and spill some tea—this time, about your not-so-secret crush.
Yerin was curled up with her phone, scrolling through TikTok, while Jennie, ever the gossip queen, was snuggled under a blanket beside you, eagerly waiting for you to spill the details.
“So,” Jennie said, raising an eyebrow and giving you a mischievous smile. “How’s Jihoon? Been seeing each other a lot lately?”
You paused for a moment, unsure if you were ready to admit just how much you liked him yet. But you knew your best friends well, and there was no point in holding back.
They’d seen you go through a million crushes, and they weren’t about to let you keep this one under wraps for long.
“I mean…” you began, glancing at Yerin for support, “It’s been nice, really nice. We’ve been hanging out a lot lately—like, almost every day after class.”
Jennie’s eyes immediately widened. “Wait, what? Every day? Are you telling me that you two have become, like, regulars at that diner near campus?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” you chuckled. “We get dinner there after classes, talk about anything and everything. It’s kind of become our thing.”
Yerin, who had been half-paying attention, looked up from her phone at the mention of Jihoon. “Wait a second, hold on. I thought Jihoon was this… grumpy, antisocial guy. You know, the one who never really goes out?”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” you said with a small laugh. “But honestly? I think he’s just been waiting for the right person. And I guess… maybe I’m that person.”
Jennie grinned widely, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement. “Oh my god, I knew it! I saw the way you two were around each other last time, and I was like, ‘Something’s going on here.’ You two just click.”
Yerin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So, how does he feel about you? You’ve been spending all this time with him. Have you two… talked about anything serious yet?”
You took a deep breath, feeling the fluttering in your chest as you thought about Jihoon.
“We haven’t really defined anything yet. I think we’re both just taking things slow. But honestly, I feel like there’s a connection there, something real.”
Yerin smiled knowingly, setting her phone down. “I can tell you like him, Y/n. And I’m glad he’s making you happy. Just make sure to take it slow and enjoy the ride. You don’t have to rush into anything.”
Jennie, ever the romantic, added, “Yeah, but also, when are you two going to make it official? I’m dying to hear how this all goes down.”
You laughed, brushing your hair out of your face. “I don’t know if we’re at that point yet. We’re still just figuring things out.”
“Right, right,” Jennie teased. “But I know how you are, Y/n. You’re gonna make him fall for you, and it’s going to be cute. You two are a total power couple in the making.”
You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you appreciated their support. “I’m just trying to enjoy these moments with him right now. But… I don’t know. I think I’m starting to like him more than I expected.”
Yerin leaned back, resting her head on the pillow, clearly satisfied with the conversation.
“You’re allowed to like him, Y/n. Honestly, I think Jihoon’s a good match for you. He’s different from the guys you usually go for. He seems like he genuinely cares.”
Jennie gave a dramatic sigh. “I’m already calling dibs on being your maid of honor whenever you two get married.”
Yerin snorted, throwing a pillow at Jennie. “Are you trying to jinx it already? Slow down, lovebird.”
You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest as your best friends teased you. It felt good to talk about Jihoon, to let someone else in on what you were feeling. It was different from all the other crushes you’d had, and you knew that it was only the beginning of something special.
But for now, you were content to take it one step at a time, with your friends by your side and Jihoon slowly making his way into your heart.
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After a long and stressful week of finals, you were finally free. The relief that flooded over you was immense, and the anticipation of meeting Jihoon made it even sweeter.
You had both been texting throughout the week, but with finals consuming all of your time, you hadn't been able to meet up. Tonight, though, was different.
Jihoon had messaged you earlier, asking if you wanted to meet up once you were done with everything. You could already feel the excitement building in your chest.
As you walked out of the library, the crisp night air greeted you, and your phone buzzed in your pocket. Jihoon’s message appeared on the screen:
Jihoon: "Hey, I was thinking we could grab dinner. You deserve a break after finals. I’ll meet you at that place we like near campus, yeah?"
You smiled at the message and quickly typed back:
You: "Sounds perfect. I’ll be there in 15 minutes."
You quickly made your way to the restaurant, the weight of finals lifting off your shoulders with each step.
When you arrived, you spotted Jihoon waiting for you outside, his usual shy smile lighting up his face as soon as he saw you. He looked great, as always, but there was something about him tonight—something more confident, like he had been looking forward to this just as much as you had.
“Hey,” you greeted, your voice already filled with warmth.
“Hey, Y/n. How was the last exam?” Jihoon asked, his voice a little more relaxed than usual, but still filled with genuine interest.
“It was tough, but I’m just happy it’s over. I could finally breathe,” you said with a smile.
Jihoon chuckled softly, pushing open the door to the restaurant and letting you go in first. The place was cozy, with dim lighting and soft jazz music playing in the background.
You’d been here a few times before, and it always felt like the perfect spot to relax and enjoy good food.
“So, what’s the plan now that finals are done?” Jihoon asked as you both sat down. He’d already taken the liberty of ordering a drink for you, something you’d mentioned you liked in passing weeks ago. It was a small gesture, but one that made your heart flutter.
“Honestly, I just want to take it easy and catch up with you,” you said, your voice gentle. “I’ve missed this.”
Jihoon smiled, and you could tell he felt the same. “Same here. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
After you both ordered your meals, the conversation flowed effortlessly. It was easy with Jihoon, like you didn’t have to worry about the awkward pauses or overthinking what you said. It just felt natural.
You talked about how your finals had gone, the stress, and everything in between. Jihoon, despite his quiet nature, opened up more than usual, and you could tell the weight of the past week had lifted from his shoulders as well.
As the evening went on, Jihoon casually leaned back in his chair and seemed to hesitate for a moment, almost as if gathering his thoughts. You didn’t mind the pause, enjoying the quiet comfort of just being in each other’s company.
“I know we’ve been through a lot recently with exams and everything, but… I’ve been thinking about something,” Jihoon began, his voice soft.
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What is it?”
Jihoon took a deep breath, and you could see the hint of nervousness in his expression. “I’ve really enjoyed these past few weeks with you, Y/n. More than I expected, honestly. I know we’re both busy, but I want to see you more. Not just as a friend… but as something more.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a blush creep up your neck. “Jihoon…”
He smiled shyly. “I’m not good with words, but… I really like you. A lot. I want to be with you. Would you be my girlfriend?”
The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the realization hitting you hard. You had felt the same way, but hearing him say it out loud made everything feel more real.
A smile spread across your face as you reached out, taking his hand across the table. “Yes, Jihoon. I’d love to.”
The relief on his face was instant, and you could see the happiness in his eyes. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”
And in that moment, with the lights of the restaurant casting a soft glow around you, everything felt right. It was the perfect end to a stressful week—and the beginning of something even more beautiful.
After dinner, Jihoon suggested that you both head to his place. He had mentioned before that he had a small studio where he worked on his music, and tonight, it seemed like the perfect time to finally show you what he’d been working on.
“You know, I was thinking of taking you to my studio,” Jihoon said as you walked side by side toward his apartment building. “I’ve been working on something… and I think it’s time I share it with you.”
You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Something? What is it?”
Jihoon just smiled, his gaze a little more secretive. “You’ll see.”
Once you arrived at his place, Jihoon led you up to the small studio in the corner of the building. The space was cozy, but you could immediately tell it was filled with character.
There were posters of old-school musicians on the walls, a few vintage records stacked neatly in one corner, and the warm light from a desk lamp illuminated a red guitar leaning against a chair.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Jihoon said, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll just grab my guitar.”
You sat down, looking around the room, the quiet hum of anticipation settling in your chest. Jihoon moved around the room, picking up the guitar and tuning it for a moment before sitting down beside you.
His fingers brushed the strings, testing them one last time, before he looked at you, his expression soft and sincere.
“I wrote this song a while ago,” Jihoon began, his voice low, almost as if he were gathering courage. “And honestly, I didn’t know if I would ever share it with anyone. But when I started to really think about it, I realized… you’re the inspiration for it. I wanted to play it for you.”
You watched him, your heart already fluttering. “Jihoon…”
With a soft breath, he started playing, the chords flowing from the guitar as if they had been meant for this moment. The melody was gentle at first, and as he sang the lyrics, his voice blended effortlessly with the soothing tune.
It was clear that every word was carefully chosen, every note filled with emotion. And as the song progressed, you could feel the weight of his words hitting deep.
The lyrics were simple but beautiful, each line a reflection of how Jihoon saw you—his "ruby"—his muse, his heart’s desire.
As the last note faded, Jihoon set the guitar down beside him and looked at you, his eyes slightly unsure. “I… I know it’s a lot, but I wanted you to hear it. Because you’re the one who inspired it.”
You were silent for a moment, taking in everything—the song, his vulnerability, and the realization that Jihoon had really opened up to you in a way he hadn’t with anyone else. It took you a second to gather your thoughts, but when you finally spoke, your voice was soft, filled with sincerity.
“That was beautiful, Jihoon,” you whispered, your heart swelling. “I can’t believe you wrote that for me.”
Jihoon’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked a little embarrassed. “I didn’t know how to tell you. But now, I guess there’s no hiding it anymore.”
You smiled, reaching out to touch his hand. “I’m really glad you did.”
There was a brief silence, but this time it was comfortable, filled with the weight of the connection you shared. Jihoon looked at you, his eyes full of warmth and something deeper. It was clear to you now—he had fallen for you, and he had done it in the most beautiful way possible.
After a few beats, Jihoon spoke again, his voice quiet but steady.
“You know,” he began, his tone playful but filled with sincerity, “you really have a way of turning my entire routine upside down.”
You raised an eyebrow, still feeling the warmth of the music and his words. “Oh really? What do you mean by that?”
Jihoon chuckled softly, the sound low and comfortable.
“I mean, my life was pretty predictable before you came around. Gym, classes, music, rinse and repeat. But now, it’s like—” he trailed off for a second, gathering his thoughts, “—I actually look forward to getting out of bed in the morning, you know? To seeing you.”
Your heart fluttered at his words, but you couldn’t resist teasing him. “Oh, so I’m just some distraction now, huh? Are you telling me I’ve become the highlight of your boring routine?”
Jihoon’s eyes softened, a smile curling at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping just a little. “If that makes me sound like I’m complaining, then yes. You’re the perfect distraction. The best one I never knew I needed.”
You let out a small laugh, not able to hide how happy that made you feel. “I don’t know if I should feel flattered or worried.”
“You should definitely feel flattered,” Jihoon teased, tapping the back of his hand against your knee. “But seriously, I’m really glad you’re in my life now. It’s like... you’ve made everything a little more exciting.”
You met his gaze, the playful air between you both still hanging, but something deeper flickered in his eyes now—something genuine, something real.
“Well, I’m glad I’m not just some distraction then,” you said, shifting slightly to face him fully. “And here I thought you were going to tell me I was ruining your carefully planned life.”
Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head. “No way. I never knew how much I needed this kind of chaos until you showed up.”
There was a brief pause, and then Jihoon leaned in a little closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, it’s nice having someone who actually doesn’t mind the mess I call my life.”
“Well, good thing I’m here then,” you replied with a wink. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Jihoon smiled, a mix of playfulness and tenderness in his expression. “Good. Because I kind of like this version of my life now. With you in it.”
With that, he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and as he did, you both shared a quiet moment, the atmosphere charged with the kind of ease that came only with truly being yourselves around each other.
The hum of his guitar, still resting by his side, seemed to match the rhythm of the moment. And as Jihoon leaned back into his seat, he added with a cheeky grin, “Also, just so you know… if you ever need a song to get stuck in your head, you’ve got the perfect one now.”
You laughed, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Yeah, I think that’s gonna be stuck in my head for a while. Especially when it’s your fault.”
Jihoon’s grin widened. “You’re welcome,” he teased.
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© rubyuji 2025’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.
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ramp-it-up ¡ 3 days ago
Text
Peach, Part IV
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Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky because it's the right thing to do. And now he is in love. With you. He wants to move forward with you and now he's got you on his turf.
Pairing: Art Dealer/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)
A/N: I love these two with my whole heart. This is turning into the slowest of burns, sorry not sorry. This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in the Bucky Barnes fic Worth the Fall and the Steve Rogers fic Peach III. We're at the second week of December, there is still so much in my head to say. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, drinking, body parts tingling, wild wild thoughts of breeding, taking each other down in various ways, and cock riding. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.
I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘
I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
--------
On one of your many walks along the beach, you teased your cousin about being the future Mrs. Bucky Barnes, and she tried to get you to talk about Steve, explaining some of the backstory to what happened in Atlanta.
But you were intransigent. 
“Look. I know how stubborn you are. And how tough you are, because you’ve had to be. But I also know how big your heart is and how worthy you are of love. You are passing up on the chance to find your one true love.”
You scoffed.
“Love? Everyone can’t be all starry eyed and head over heels like you and Bunny boy.”
She laughed and shook her head at your nickname for Bucky, who you’d grown to like a lot over the weekend. 
“And Steven, disguised at Grant, just wanted to get in my panties, which he achieved.”
You looked toward the waves as you thought about how Grant got you to see fireworks that night in your apartment, and the things Steve said that he wanted to do to you the other night.
“I have no doubt that Steve Rogers wants to fuck you girl. Look at you. You are fine as fuck.”
You laughed at your cousin dressing you down and gassing you up at the same time. 
“But let’s be clear. You wanted to fuck him too. You still do. I see the way you look at him.”
“Hey! I didn’t lie–”
“Ah-ah!”
She silenced you with a finger.
“I know he lied about who he was, but were you completely honest with him? Totally?”
You side eyed your cousin as you imagined strangling her. But you weren’t eleven years old anymore.
And she wasn’t wrong.
“Yes, Steve lied, but he wants to make amends. He has feelings for you.”
You gave your cousin a side eye.
“Did he tell you that? And you trust him?”
“With my life.”
She put her arm around you and pulled you close as you walked. 
“Listen, I know you are guarding your heart, but I know Steve. He’s got this exterior that seems one way, but he will surprise you. He’s a really, really good guy.”
You sighed, still not there yet.
“I’m good on that, cousin.”
“Okay. I’ll tell him that you have a heart of stone and that he should move on. It’s not like there aren’t bitches lined up to suck his dick every day in the city…”
A jolt of jealousy zipped through you, but you pushed it down. You just took a deep breath and gave her an overly bright smile. 
“I don’t care who slobs on his lil’ knob.”
She rolled her eyes at you.
“Riiggght, cousin. Anyway. You are still taking the endowment money right?”
You raised your eyebrow at her and nodded.
“Nothing is going to get in the way of this dream, cousin.”
She grinned back at you, almost as bright as the sun.
“That’s my girl! We gon’ have a time in New York City…”
—
Sunday morning before you drove back to Atlanta, you went to the kitchen just as Steve came back in from a run on the beach. The rest of the family was going to Church and then he, Bucky and your cousin were going to fly back to New York on the private jet. 
“Hey.”
He chucked his chin up at you like you were one of his bros.
The audacity. 
“Hello.”
You kept it cute as he moved around you to grab a glass to get some water from the tap. The scent of sweat, ocean air, and him wrapped around you and you inhaled deeply, closing your eyes to savor it. It was like you were lost. 
You opened your eyes to find him watching you as he downed the glass in one gulp, a drop of water escaping and rolling down his chin to his neck and disappearing into the already wet collar of his tight t-shirt.
You cleared your throat as he maintained eye contact with you and wiped his lips with his thumb, and some unseen force made you watch those thick fingers that felt you up not a month before, your nipples tight and panties wet.
Damn, this man and his effect on you.
You stared as his eyes swept down your body as if he knew what you looked like naked. He had seen you dance, and felt you up over and under your clothes, but that wasn’t what the look of possession was about. 
This man wanted you.
—-
Steve almost ran back outside when he saw you in the kitchen as he came in. He’s taken a run to calm the erection he had when he woke up because of you, and now, here you were, dressed almost exactly the same as when he had the opportunity to kiss you and make you cum in his arms exactly 29 days earlier.
Yes, he was keeping count.
Steve was practically speechless, yet he managed to get out a crude, ‘Hey’ and a head motion as a greeting. What was that?
He wanted close to you, to feel your skin against his lips again, to check and see if you were wet, which you were judging from your slightly open lips and blown pupils. He didn’t go near you as he got a drink however, because no matter how much he was into knife and gun play, he wasn’t going there. 
Steve wanted in your heart, not just your pants.
When you closed your eyes and visibly inhaled (probably to calm your anger, he imagined), he used the opportunity to watch your chest rise and watch the sunlight play on your skin. Those beautiful eyes caused his heart to clench when you opened them and he couldn’t tear his away as he drank his water. 
Which he needed at the moment. Desperately.
Unconsciously, he wiped his lips with his thumb, remembering the texture of you as he did so. You cleared your throat, snapping him out of it.
“Peach…”
He stopped, waiting for your retort. You just stood there, expectant and although he was shocked as shit, he continued.
“I want to apologize for lying to you and for allowing things to get…physical while you believed a lie.”
You watched him for what seemed like a long time, but was really only seconds.
“I accept your apology, Steve, and I believe in forgiveness, if only for myself being able to move on, but I’m not ready to forget or fully trust you.” Steve nodded.
“I get it. I’m really sorry.”
You shrugged.
“I know you were trying to help Bucky get clean for my cousin, and I love her big, so, I can’t stay mad. And it’s clear that you are ride or die for those you love.”
And then you cocked your head at him in that adorable way and his heart crumbled into the sparkly bits of honey in your eyes. 
“I feel like you love my cousin. Like family. So I guess that makes us family too.”
When you gave him a small smile, he smiled back dreamily. He was a teenage boy in your presence.
“I guess you’re right.”
Steve thought of family and a vision of you as a mother had him in a chokehold. You had him raging hard and wanting to bend you over the kitchen island and breed you until his seed dripped down your legs. Instead, he moved behind it to hide his condition. 
“We will have to be in contact because of the endowment, which I am taking because of my students and the fact that it’s been my dream since I was 12 years old. It was then that I started being told that I was all wrong. My ass was too big. My breasts were too bouncy. I didn’t have a ‘desirable dance body.’” 
Steve’s eyes openly scanned you. He looked angry, then scoffed. 
“That's ridiculous.” 
“Of course it is.” 
“Don't change a thing. That would be criminal.” 
You paused and then gave him a slightly larger smile then.
“Believe me, I'm not planning to change myself. I’m planning on changing the world.” 
Steve stared at you, astounded at your fierce courage. No one else could compare.
“I’m serious. I know that sounds grandiose, but I want to leave my mark. I started a dance company so that any body with talent can get on a stage and have a career, regardless of their shape and size. That’s why I’m accepting the endowment. We can be business partners if it means those dreams can come true.”
You were a force. Damn, that only made Steve love you more.
“Brava, Peach.”
You stared back into those baby blues and coughed, trying to clear your throat from the lump that had formed there. Your goals and dreams always made you get intense.
“Need some water?”
Steve was already reaching for another glass. His eyes went wide as you reached for his and finished off what was left in it. He almost came at the thought of your lips where his had been. Holy mother of god.
“That hit the spot, thanks.”
You licked your lips and he nearly fainted, and as you turned toward the stairs, giving him a view of your backside, and looked back at him, he almost ethered to the sky.
“See you next week, Mr. Rogers. Have a safe flight.”
—-
Steve felt frantic the entire seven days leading up to the day he’d see you again. He and Sam and Nat and Bucky had lots of work to do, but he felt like a bumbling idiot, because his perfectionism was getting in the way. 
Bucky saw the barriers Steve’s mind was putting in his way and spent extra time helping him. That’s why Bucky was his brother, Steve’s only family since his mother died when he was a kid.
They worked day and night, it seemed, to be ready for the summit.
Steve managed to take a few minutes to himself each night, sketching before he slept. The images of you that came from the lead of his pencil soothing his spirit and filling his dreams. They also caused him to wake up with a stiff reminder of your feel and smell in his nostrils.
Steve Rogers couldn’t wait to see his Peach again.
—--
You kept checking the emailed itinerary on the phone as you tried to relax in business class. All of the endowment recipients were arriving in New York around the same time period in the afternoon, and you were being picked up and chauffeured to your hotel, then three hours later, to a reception at a club in the Rebirth Building. 
Then, you would be left to your own devices for dinner and to turn in or turn up. Turning up with your cousin was the only option.
You decided to try and catch some zzzz’s on the plane so you wouldn’t be too tired later. You also wanted to calm your nerves. This was a big deal for your dance school, you told yourself. You weren’t nervous about seeing Steve Rogers again on his turf. 
Not at all. 
—---
The driver that picked you up from the airport, complete with your name on a placard, Nico, was super nice.  You were surprised that your cousin was in the car. You two squealed and talked and laughed on the way, and you were in such a good mood that you didn’t pay much attention when she addressed him by his first name very familiarly. He must be a very friendly guy.
Your check-in at the 1 Hotel Brooklyn was a breeze. The concierge let you know that you checked in at the right time; you happened to be upgraded to a one bedroom suite with a view of the New York skyline and the Statue of Liberty. The king sized bed looked like a dream, so you took a nap before you got ready for the evening. You wanted to be at your best amongst the other five Endowment awardees.
—-
You walked into the bar, Bea, and you were struck at how gorgeous it was, and how masculine.
There was rich mahogany wood everywhere, and the bartop material was a dark black honed marble. There were luxurious upholstered leather chairs and booths throughout and floor to ceiling wine coolers. 
You were looking around in awe as a young woman came up and handed you a name tag.
“You must be Ms. YLN. Welcome.”
You greeted her as your cousin smirked at you. She grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing wait staff.
“How…”
You gaped at her.
“All staff have been briefed on all of you. Nothing but the best this week.”
“Oh. Okay…” She giggled as you continued your inspection of the place. Steve and ‘nem had more money than you thought. A lot more. A thought crossed your mind.
“Wait. Do you work for them?”
You narrowed your eyes at your cousin as she rolled hers.
“Well, tangentially. Bucky funded our Howard Benson exhibit at the Center and so I’ve worked with Rebirth on some Harlem Renaissance initiatives around Brooklyn and the other boroughs. I’ve also een helping Bucky and the crew prepare for this week.”
“Ah. Okay.”
You took a sip of your drink and continued your perusal.
It was your cousin’s turn now.
“Listen, bitch.You’ve got to chill. No one is out to get you, especially me.”
Your cousin looked halfway angry. But she was still adorable.
“You’re so fucking cute. Love looks good on you.”
You smiled at her serenely and she shook her head at you, knowing you too well. 
“Don’t give me your shit, Peach. I was there in Hilton Head. You will act like you have some sense.”
“I’m civilized, cousin. Steve and I had a talk before I left. I’m chilling.”
“You better.”
She pointed to the gathering crowd in the room.
“Now go network.”
—--
Your laugh. It gave Steve goosebumps.
He hadn’t heard your full laugh much in Atlanta, just some low, sexy chuckles, because you two hadn’t talked much. And you certainly weren’t happy when he showed up at your family’s house. But you seemed much more relaxed this evening and Steve decided that it was his favorite thing in the world.
He spotted you as soon as you walked in with your cousin and she was beautiful as always. 
But you.
When you finally noticed him, you seemed surprised, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, but not angry at all. He gained hope, and stood up straight, wondering if he looked good to you because you were certainly a vision to his eyes. 
The outfit you were wearing was classy, yet could not hide that body from the eyes that studied it every chance he got. Which was every time he saw you.
As you mingled, and he shmoozed, he consistently had to force his eyes away from your tempting curves, your gorgeous face, the sound of your voice. And that fucking laugh. It wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed, seeped into his soul and spread warmth. 
Not to mention the effect you had on his cock. 
You were a fucking vision in black wide-legged leather pants and a plain white tee that hugged your mouthwatering tits, accessorized with red pointy heels a red clutch and an off white wool trench coat. The edgy outfit was very appropriate for the art world and although you were all covered up, your body wasn’t hidden from him, only accentuated. To top it off, your normally coily hair was straightened and loosely curled, calling for his fingers to slide through the thick strands. 
It’s your eyes that got to him, though, those fucking beautiful eyes that he longed to see hazy with the pleasure he was giving you. He maintained eye contact with you as he thought his lurid thoughts, and raised his drink in a salute. You smiled at him and raised your drink in response and his heart soared.
Although he wanted to be near you immediately, he decided to give you some space. He didn’t want to force anything. Well, maybe he wanted to force his thick cock into your tiny cunt. 
He licked his lips, then shook his head and scowled at Bucky as he noticed Steve staring at you. But he didn’t stop.
Careful now, Steve told himself. Take it slow. 
—--
You mingled and met some of your fellow recipients. They were a diverse group of people from all over the country, but most seemed type cool. There was one who latched on to you, Sharon Carter. She was a photographer from Memphis and was very chatty. She was glued to your side as you made the rounds and you weren’t too mad. She just didn’t shut up.
“How do you like your room? A double with a view of the base of the Brooklyn Bridge. And after a three hour coach flight. Fancy.”
You sipped your drink and Sharon’s sarcasm. Your mind started whirling.
“Get a load of those beautiful people right there. Those are our benefactors.”
You looked to where she was indicating and were surprised to see Steve standing with Bucky, another tall handsome man with a low cut fade, and a petite fit redhead woman. They all looked to belong on a movie poster.
But Steve.
He was leaned against the bar, arms crossed over his broad chest, perfectly tailored dark green sport coat and black wool sweater, hugging his broad shoulders and trim waist like nobody’s business. His dark slacks were hanging on for dear life to those massive thighs, and his thick dark blond hair was tousled, like he’d been running his hands through it all day. You liked his hair cut short in the back with the length on top. There was still something to grab on to.
Damn him. It should be illegal for a man to look that fucking good, especially at this hour, with you already having had two glasses of champagne.…
You caught eye contact with Steve and your world spun for a second as you connected across the room. His eyes… God, his eyes. 
Those steely blues were blazing with a heat that you could feel in your pussy, somehow containing a hunger that threatened to consume you. He stood up straight, and if you didn’ know any better, you would have thought that he flexed a little as he stared at you. Your pussy thought so, but your brain thought he wouldn’t try to hurt you like that. 
He did, however, raise his glass to you and you couldn’t help but respond in kind.
You turned your attention to Bucky as he started to speak, and grabbed a bottle of water from a waiter, thinking you needed a clear head when you had to actually talk to Steve and not just acknowledge him from across the room.
"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the Rebirth Art Foundation’s annual celebration of creativity and innovation in the arts. This is a gathering to honor six extraordinary artists whose talent, vision, and hard work have earned them a place among the most promising creators of our time….”
You watched your cousin who was totally enraptured by what Bucky was saying. You got a warm feeling as you saw what true love looked like. You smirked as you saw her make her way over to him as Nat stepped up to speak. You were so happy for your fam. 
“Now Bucky Barnes is a snack. Wonder if he’s taken?”
You side eyed the hussy and then pointed at your cousin, who hadn’t made it to Bucky yet.
“I think that’s his wife or something right there.”
Sharon took a sip of her drink and wrinkled her nose.
“Ha! Nice joke. But I don’t think they go together, meaning they don’t match. Get it?”
You stared daggers at her. This bitch. Then you glanced at your cousin and her man again.
“You might want to tell him that, because he looks like he’s about to take her tonsils out with his tongue.”
Sharon’s mouth dropped open to see them making out in a corner. You couldn’t help but laugh as she shrugged, then brightened when Steve gained the mic. 
“Never mind him. Steve Rogers is the entire meal. I have it on good authority that his dick is big.”
You looked from her to Steve, a sinking feeling in your stomach. Were you going to catch a case in New York City over a man that was not your man?
Or was he your man?
“Good evening, and welcome. It’s an honor to have you all here as we celebrate six incredible artists who are pushing the boundaries of what’s possible in the art world and are poised to change the entire world.”
Steve looked straight at you then, and you held his gaze for that fraction of a second as he raised his eyebrow as electricity zapped between you before his eyes continued around the room. 
Sharon was forgotten momentarily and you bit your lip. Whew. You had to refrain from fanning yourself as he continued.
“At Rebirth, we believe that art is more than just a medium—it’s a force that connects us, challenges us, and shapes our future. This week, I encourage you to not only take in everything around you but also to share your unique perspectives. Creation, art, and collaboration are the soul of this foundation, and I’m excited to see what bonds form this week. Congratulations once again, and let’s make something amazing together!”
“Come on, now is the time to meet them. Maybe I can make something amazing with Steve Rogers tonight.”
You let yourself be dragged over to where the four were standing as Sam was finishing his welcome and you introduced yourself to each as you tried to listen to Sharon simping.
Each person smiled warmly at you, and Bucky pulled you in for a hug, which made Sharon side eye you both, but only for a moment as her attention turned to Steve.
“Mr. Rogers, I’m Sharon Carter. You know my Aunt Peggy.”
Steve blanched.
“Peggy? Your… Aunt?”
Sharon laughed, a little shrilly to your ears.
“Yes. She’s my mother’s half sister. Born to the second wife, 18 years younger than my mom. They weren’t that close. But Peggy and I are just like sisters.”
“Oh.”
Steve looked a little trapped.
“Didn’t know that. It’s a small world.”
Peggy leaned closer to him, but you heard her stage whisper.
“Don’t worry, I won’t share the secrets she told me…”
Steve looked at her like she was crazy and then looked at you, almost in panic. You could see the anxiety in his eyes, so you decided to rescue him.
“Mr. Rogers. Hi. ”
The huskiness of your voice, the way his name sounded on your tongue. It calmed him and sent a lightning bolt of desire through him. Steve wanted to hear you call him that in a very different context.
Steve’s face changed when he looked at you. He shifted toward you, much to Sharon’s chagrin.
“My name is Y/N Y/LN, and it’s so good to finally meet you. I hope that this is the start of a great partnership.”
Steve cocked his eyebrow at you and smiled as you took his hand. You initiating touch with him was the start of his wet dreams of late. His thumb stroked your hand as he held it. 
“I hope so too, Ms. Y/LN. I’ve been meaning to talk to you…”
“Please, call me Peach, Mr. Rogers.”
Nat came around and distracted Sharon as Steve put his hand on the small of your back to guide you to the side of the bar to talk. His smell enveloped you and his touch had you walking carefully, because your knees were weak.
“What did you want to talk about Mr. Rogers?”
He shook his head, his eyes dark now.
“Call me Steve, Peach, please.”
His voice was rougher, and impossibly deeper as he begged, and it sent chills straight to your pussy. You cocked your head and he in turn licked his lips.
“Why?”
“Because if you keep calling me Mr. Rogers, I–”
He stopped and your lust-addled brain filled in the gaps. Your lips parted on a soft inhale. Steve, on the other hand, inhaled sharply.
And then exhaled slowly.
“How was your flight?”
Steve thought it best to talk of the mundane, because he was half a second from bending you over the bar in front of all these people. 
“It was… great. I appreciated the business class seat.”
His eyebrow shot up.
“You got upgraded? How fortunate.”
“Ummmmhmmm. So you didn’t know?”
“Promise.”
Steve’s mouth quirked up in a half smile, because he knew you didn’t trust him, but you were so cute when you were grilling him.
“And you didn’t know about the upgrade at the hotel?”
“No…”
“I have a king suite with a killer view of the city.”
Steve grinned now and you almost shielded your eyes.
“Seems you’re lucky.”
You stared into his eyes to see if he was lying, but you didn’t see anything there but feelings you didn’t want to name. But because of your history, you still didn’t trust what he said. Nevertheless, you decided to let it go. There was something else you needed to know.
“So, who’s Peggy?”
Steve grimaced.
“She’s someone I knew a long time ago. We were close. Once. But not anymore.”
You just kept looking at him.
“She’s moved on, married to a rich guy on the west coast. And I’ve moved on as well.”
You straightened up as he gazed down at you. You didn’t know why you cared so much. And you didn’t want to analyze his last sentence.
“Oh.”
Now, Steve was smiling down at you like he thought you were jealous.
Which was absurd. 
And he looked as if he was happy about that ridiculous idea.
You were right.
Steve was jumping for joy on the inside at the way you reacted to hearing about Peggy. He didn’t expect to think about her, much less have to explain her to you tonight, but if it led to you realizing you had feelings for him, he was glad of Sharon’s connection. And the way she ran her mouth, although it was annoying.
“You good, Peach?”
You weren’t good. You found yourself wanting to show Steve your suite, especially the ceiling, as you rode his cock on the king sized bed so as to make him forget about any other pussy ever existing. But you must have been tweaking.
You needed to get out of there.
You turned around and went to find your cousin.
“I’m great Mr. Rogers. You have a good night.”
And Steve was left watching you walk away again.
——
Please comment, reblog and like to feed the writer! 😜
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linklethehistorian ¡ 3 days ago
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Hi — OP here. I wanted to highlight some of the tags that I thought were worth showing from y’all insightful folks (especially those in other countries) who have been reblogging:
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Also, since I’m getting a few people reblogging and/or commenting like I’m fearmongering and saying the situation is already doomed:
This was NOT my intent. I am well aware of everything that’s required for this to get passed. I’m well aware it’s a slim shot of it happening. This does not make it a non-threat. Listen to the voices around you — even those who do not live in this country. Listen to them, and take heed of their warnings. They know this situation by heart, from experience. They’ve seen it all before.
Listen to the people who know their history, who know history in general of situations that were similar. They speak the truth.
Me telling you that this will not be the end was not fearmongering and it was not an attempt to be demoralizing and it was not treating the situation like, or implying it was, an inescapable Armageddon. I know it sounds terrifying, but that’s because it is. And people need to see that. They need to think about it. They need to know what is at stake in the event this passes, however unlikely those odds may or may not be.
It was a warning. A call to action. A “unless we both as a country and as individuals act to stop it here and now, this will happen.”
The reason why I did not bring up the odds is largely because I was in a hurry to get this out, because I wanted to alert people as soon as I could. Because this it’s important. As I have said previously, this post was made very early in to this becoming public knowledge. There weren’t many places talking about it yet and I wanted to do so before people started flooding in with the dangerous, downplaying “don’t worry, it’s a 0% chance” rhetoric that would convince people it wasn’t worth acting against and that they didn’t have to do anything, because they’d think they could trust it would all just be okay.
And you should never just trust that it will all be okay, if there’s something you can do to help ensure that. The odds of the situation are ultimately entirely irrelevant when it comes to the necessity to act. You should always treat situations like this like if you don’t act, no one will.
As I have said in another post, while it’s understandable people want to comfort themselves, there is no such thing as a 0% chance, and there is also no such thing as slim odds unless you act in every way you can to ensure the odds are, in fact, as slim as you believe and hope them to be, and spreading anything along those lines is to play an extremely dangerous game that only helps your enemy.
We are not omniscient. We cannot read the hearts and minds of each individual member of congress and head of state and know in an instant how they feel, nor can we see the future. Betting on odds to save your life and your fate and the lives and fates of everyone you know and love when you could be doing something to at least help those odds is a fool’s game.
Do your research. Know your odds, if it helps to comfort you. Check out the links the kind people in the reblogs and comments have sent or offered you and listen to those around you.
But don’t ever assume that you don’t have to act. Especially on important matters like this.
Yes, part of the reason this bill got passed may have been a distraction tactic to get you to look the other way from other things going on; HOWEVER, THIS DOES NOT MAKE IT ANY LESS DANGEROUS OR A NON-THREAT.
Multiple things can be a threat at once. Something can be both a distraction and a serious attempt to alter the course of the American future. You can care about multiple things at once. You don’t have to choose. But if you do choose only a few, certainly don’t choose to ignore the amendment that could permanently alter how America runs and allow this man — or people like him — to have a grip over this country for 12 years each, and pave the way for lifelong dictatorships.
Thanks for your time and all the reblogs that help made this post spread. My blog is not super popular, so I never could’ve dreamed this would fly away like it has, but I’m so happy that it was something important like this that took off.
I love you all. We’re in this together. Protect your country in any way you can. Be safe. There is hope, but it’s hope we need to help carve out by our own hands. Not hope we put blindly into the hands of others.
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Source
Transcript:
“BREAKING: A constitutional amendment has been filed allowing President Trump to seek a 3rd term in office.
"No person shall be elected to the office of the President more than three times, nor be elected to any additional term after being elected to two consecutive terms, and no person who has held the office of President, or acted as President, for more than two years of a term to which some other person was elected President shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice."
It was filed by Congressman Andy Ogles (R-TN).
Don’t let this slip by unnoticed. This is not just “one extra term”, it’s a warning shot. It’s a red flag. It’s an omen.
They are slowly turning up the heat in the pan. Do not be the frog who sits denying it’s getting hotter.
One extra term will become two, two will become three, and three will eventually give way to lifelong reign of each president.
Fight. Fight for God’s sake.
Contact your local representative of congress. Convince them we do not want this.
We are going to end up in a dictatorship.
@ikiyou
Please help spread this. I don’t usually get political and I don’t usually ask for assistance but this is important and you have more reach.
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halfwayhearted ¡ 22 hours ago
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hihii
following the recent win i was wondering if you could write something for pau where he just won a game and is going back home super fluffyyyy
Playground Love — Pau Cubarsí.
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Pairing: Pau CubarsĂ­ x Fem!Reader
Summary: You can’t wait to show him just how proud of him you are when he arrives back in Barcelona and visits you.
Word Count: 590+
Disclaimer/s — Sunshine!Reader, just fluff, really. That’s it!
A/N: CHAMPIONS. CHAMPIONS. HI. WE’RE CHAMPIONS??? Me saying that like I’m a player playing for them, whatever 🤦‍♀️
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They had won—five to two. You were ecstatic the second the whistle sounded, jumping around and cheering as if you were on the pitch with them. This was such a moment for your boyfriend and his club, and you could practically feel the excitement and relief in all of their expressions.
“Mamá! Do you see that? That’s Pau!” You exclaimed, gently shaking her shoulders, unable to tear your gaze away from the television.
It’s not like she didn’t celebrate with you—she did. Maybe too much, as you saw her slowly sit down, her smile still plastered on her face. “Are you going to text him? You should text him.”
That’s when you shot her a look. “I’m positive that he’ll be too busy celebrating to answer his phone. I’ll… text him later. Look! Do you see him?” He was in a botched single-file line, awaiting his turn to have a medal placed over his head, reminding him and his teammates of their deserved win.
You just couldn’t wait to finally be able to see him.
It wasn’t until the next day that he told you he’d be on his way to you, the simple message causing a stupid, lovesick smile to grace your lips.
As soon as the sound of his knocking registers in your ears, you’re rushing to your front door, swinging it open like you’d break it off its hinges. “Pau! Come in, come in!” You say with a slight hold on his jacket, shutting the door behind him.
“Did you see me yesterday?” The boy questioned.
“I watched the entire thing. You played so good!”
His face lights up and he finally pulls you in for a hug, his arms encircling your waist and his nose nestling in the crook of your neck. The action soft.
Then, as you both pull back, he’s quick to lean down, placing a tender kiss on your lips, the moment causing your smile to broaden. So, you finally do what you’ve been longing to do to him.
And that was to litter his face with your kisses.
Doing exactly that, he lets out a hearty laugh, his face turning a shade of light pink with each peck.
You don’t really care, muttering, “I’m so proud of you,” between each one. Your grip on his jaw is careful so as not to hurt him, but after seeing how flushed he is, you can’t help yourself and do the exact thing he does to you: pinch his cheeks.
“I missed you a lot. Oh! Did you bring the medal?” A pause. “My mom’s been wanting to see it.”
Pau only shrugs, so you think he didn’t bring it.
That was fine! Maybe next time. Or maybe he can show you photos of it in all its glory and whatnot.
Until you feel the weight of it around your neck in an instant, you drop your head, a small gasp leaving your lips. “It’s so shiny. How’d you like it?”
“My parents had to pry it off of me. I didn’t want to take it off—or let go of it, for that matter.”
“I can see why,” you say with a giggle. “Hungry?”
With a slight ruffle of your hair, the brunette replies with, “Yeah, I could eat. Have you eaten?”
“Earlier. I’ll eat with you so you don’t feel left out.”
“How considerate of you.” And with that, the two of you enter your kitchen, making food, laughing, talking, and you saying how proud you were every-so-often. Which was… every five seconds!
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Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.
DT(s) — @pedriache + @spidybaby + @lechrts + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ
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epicbuddieficrecs ¡ 1 day ago
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Weekly Recap | January 20th-26th 2025
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On time this week, woohoo! And less thsan 40 days until season 8B !!
Special mention to all of @tizniz's drabbles that I've been reblogging, which you can find on her tumblr or on ao3 at E & E: A Buddie Drabble Collection !
Let me know if I'm missing a tag for someone!
Complete
home is where you've called my name by atlasblue85/ @atlasblue85 (Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 3K | General): Buck plays a game with himself. It goes something like this: for every house Eddie outright rejects, he adds an item to his list of why Eddie shouldn't move to El Paso. He doesn't know what the threshold is, that magic number that will make him finally speak up and express his thoughts to Eddie, but until he finds it, this is how he's coping. They're up to nine so far. Nine perfectly good houses, nine reasons Eddie shouldn't go.
you're a dog (i'm your man) by withmeornotatall / @chronicowboy (Dog Shelter AU | 3K | General): "Hey." He turns around, leans against the doorframe, tries to look casual. "Maybe, only if you're free of course, you could come round and let Chris pick out a band aid for you tonight. Don't want you bleeding out before you can get your Spider-Man band aid." Buck lights up like the fucking sun. Oh no. Eddie has one rule: never take a dog home. But he thinks Buck might be worth the risk. (OR: eddie is a dog trainer with patience, buck is a shelter worker with more bark than bite)
🔥 My Mouth Don't Move When I'm In Too Deep by taegyungie (PWP, Semi-Public Sex | 7K | Explicit): But here’s the thing: Eddie’s taken giant mouthfuls of life and chewed every last one of them up. He’s taken enough, he’s still taking enough - he doesn’t want to be the one to ask for it. All he can do is offer himself up, over and over, and hope that Buck will finally get the hint and dig his claws into what’s been his from the very start.
🔥 Five Years by aubrey_writes (Blip AU | 8K | Mature): Buck gets blipped. Eddie's left behind. A love story told through what Eddie did in his absence.
Liminal Space by ameliahart (NDE, Getting Together | 8K | Teen): Eddie Diaz dies on a sunny afternoon in January. It seems fitting, he thinks, that it should happen like this: trapped beneath three floors of a collapsed apartment building, a piece of rebar through his right lung, and his eyes on the love of his life. Because of course Buck is here with him, watching horrified as Eddie’s love and life bleed out around him.
Buck, Bedbugged and Bewildered by writedontfight (Post-S8A AU | 8K | Explicit): Buck gets bedbugs, so he's staying at Eddie's until they're gone.
🔥 everything you need (put all you need in me) by jaekyu (PWP, FWB | 9K | Explicit): Eddie imagines it. The faux-domesticity of grocery shopping with his best friend and full-time fuckbuddy, filled up with come like a jam donut or something. It would be kind of ironic. It would be definitely, wholeheartedly, totally erotic.
My boy only breaks his favorite toys by paleredheadinascifi (Amnesia, Post-S8A | 10K | Teen): Eddie wakes up five years in the future. It turns out five years is all it takes to ruin a friendship and run your life into the ground. Or, Eddie gets hurt and his apparently now ex-best friend Buck hops on a plane to El Paso. They figure out what the fuck happened together.
🔥 Firelight by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Post-S7, Monster Eddie, HOH Buck | 61K | Explicit): When, in the worst of missing Christopher, Eddie suddenly finds himself having literally turned into a monster, Buck - who is also dealing with a newfound hearing loss diagnosis - is willing to do anything to protect him. Even from himself. OR: Eddie is a creature from Swedish folklore, feat. HOH!Buck
WIP
Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 35/? | 23K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.
35. 44. A goodbye kiss, but neither of you can quite let go 
🔥 An Angry Blade by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-8x05: Masks, Cursed Buck | 1/6 | 8K | Mature): Buck finds out that the curse of Billy Boils is VERY real, and far more complicated and dangerous than he could have expected.
🔥 Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 12/? | 76K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.
🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars/ @oh-stars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 8/? | 37K | Teen): Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time? How does he tell his sister? How does he tell his Edd-- best friend? It's fine. The universe isn't going to give him a choice in the matter when the worst thing imaginable becomes his reality.
Podfic
Sunlight is Fire (Burning is a Matter of Degrees) by Favourite_alias // fic by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Incubbi Buck, FWB | 1-1.5h | Explicit): In the wake of Buck's leg injury, Eddie learns that his friend needs some unusual methods to help him recover. Eddie's willing to do whatever it takes to help Buck, and it's not like this could make his quiet pining any worse, right?
Bed Sharing Concerto in Monsterfucking No. 3 by Favourite_alias // fic by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Werewolf Eddie, Human Buck, Only One Bed | 10-20min | Explicit): Buck has the worst fucking luck. His only consolation here is that Eddie’s with him, so at least he’s not alone in a cabin with no Wifi, no central heat, no cell service, and no proper winter gear. The water works, the pipes haven’t frozen (yet) so at least he can get briefly clean. He’s so focused on scrubbing the day away that it’s not until he gets out and heads into the bedroom that he realizes— There’s only one bed.
A Chorus of Howls by Favourite_alias // fic by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Werewolves, PWP | 10-20min | Explicit): Buck is running through the woods. He’s on two feet, four, two again, dodging around trees, kicking up dirt, leaping and landing hard. Behind him, sometimes, he thinks he can hear another set of feet—a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, black on black, shadow on shadow— There. There. He can smell his pursuer’s blood and he runs faster, fast as he can. He’s not going to lose. His blood is up and running and so is he.
Duet for Two Monsters by Favourite_alias // fic by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Werewolf Eddie, Succubus Buck | 20-30min | Explicit): Buck’s been meaning to tell Eddie for a while, now. Especially now that they’re both single again. He needs to tell Eddie, because he’s pretty sure—he thinks he’s sure—that Eddie loves him back. And he won’t be intimate with Eddie without telling him. Of course, it’s a bit hard to start that conversation, on a logistical level. Hey so I have horns and a tail and feed off people’s orgasms, fun, right?
🔥 [Podfic] Buddie, It's Cold Outside by diazaster287 // fic by terranobis (Christmas, Hallmark AU | 1-1.5h | Not Rated): Big City businessman Evan Buckley travels to a small town Christmas Village in an attempt to save his personal and professional life, but when he meets the local father Eddie Diaz, he finds that he just might get the greatest present he could ever ask for.
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor ¡ 1 day ago
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Overtime 15
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: your boss, Mr. Hansen, runs you ragged but you find solace in an unexpected friend.
Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Jake Jensen.
Author’s Note: This one is dedicated to my dearest @thezombieprostitute
Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜
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You keep your head down as you hurry through the office. You have a bag in hand, along with a tremor. You just want this day to be over. 
Before you can flee down the hallway to your fate, your name draws you back. You hide a cringe then turn to Jake. He smiles as he approaches in his Mario tie and striped button up. You push the bag behind you and chew your lip. 
“Hey, uh, I’m just...” 
“How’d it go?” He interrupts your half-baked lie. 
You sniff. Is he genuinely asking? You thought he’d hear by now. 
“Heard Hansen had a conniption but that’s to be expected. G’s not really the guy to put up with all that,” he bounces in his high-tops and tucks his hands into his khaki pockets. “So?” 
“Well, er, you know, there are other candidates so I’ll wait and hear,” you glance around evasively. “I doubt... I don’t know, I don’t really have the right experience and... Mr. Hansen--” 
“Is a jackass,” he puffs. “Don’t you want to get from him already?” 
You purse your lips and sway, “yeah, I do, but--” 
He sighs and tilts his head, “if you get it, you’re gonna take it, right? You should.” 
You inhale and let it out slowly. “I know I should--” 
“But? You’d be closer to me. Oh, and you wouldn’t miss out on all the breakroom treats anymore. Not to mention, you wouldn’t be treated like dirt--” 
“I get it, Jensen.” You snap and immediately regret it. His face pales. “Alright, I know how shitty my life is and I don’t need you to remind me. Thanks, alright, for getting me an interview. It’s much appreciated but I don’t want to be your pity project.” 
His brows knit and he frowns, “it’s not pity.” He searches your face and shakes his head. “What is it? Is it me? Hm? You think I’m lame or is it you? You get off on being like this? On being a constant victim? Is that it?” 
You blink as his words sink deep into your chest. When you think of him, you never thought of lame or weak or whatever. He is boldly and unabashedly himself. You are the lame one. 
Your nose flares and tingles, your cheeks pinching with hurt, “it’s definitely not you, Jensen.” You slump and put your chin down, “I have to get back to my desk.” 
You step around him and he says your name. He tries to grab you but you slip right through his grasp. You can’t break. Not yet. The last thing you need is to cry in front of Hansen. 
You march past your desk and down to the restroom near the conference rooms. You change quickly. Your thighs speckle at the bareness and you shove the old skirt in the bag. You come back out and toss it under your desk and sit. You rest your fists next to your keyboard and grit your teeth. You want to smash everything. 
Why are men? Why can’t you win? Hansen hates you but loves to torment you. And Jensen, he’s one of the rare men who ever took an interest, who was ever nice, and you spat in his face. You deserve his hate and you’re certain now you got it. 
Your phone beeps. It’s him. You hit the button without looking. 
“Critter. I hear you skittering around out there. Time for your performance review. Now.” 
You close your eyes as the line clicks. You tap the button again and stand slowly. You blow out between your lips and force your hands opens, your arms straight, legs stiff. You cross to his office and lightly rap your knuckles across the door. 
“In.” He demands from inside. 
You enter, nearly tripping as your thighs chafe together. You bite down on your cheeks as you swallow down your embarrassment. He can probably see every dimple, every stretch mark, and every flaw you try to hide. 
He clucks and your eyes narrow on him. He comes into focus as you seethe silently. He’s reminding you of who and what you are. 
“Not bad,” he comments on the short black tube you found to constrain your hips and ass. “Turn.” 
He swirls his fingers. You obey rigidly. Your panties are too close to peeking out. He snickers. 
“Stop,” he directs as you put your back to him, “now touch your toes.” 
You waver and crane to see him over your shoulder. 
“I didn’t tell you to look at me. Do it.” 
You put your head straight and press your hands to your thighs. Slowly, you slide your palms down and bend. You quiver at the exposure of your high-cut briefs. He laughs again. 
“No way, crit. That’s a full-blow parachute. What’re you afraid of falling up there?” His jibe at your height makes you wince. You stand up and face him. “Take ‘em off.” 
You blink and shake your head, “sir, I don’t--” 
“I said take them off.” 
You stare at him, waiting for him to chuckle again. To tell you it’s just another gag. His face is stone sober. You shudder and lower your gaze to the floor. 
You tug on the elastic around your thighs, trying not to reveal too much, and carefully roll down your panties. He purrs as you do. You recede into yourself as you bend to step out of the cotton. You straighten with the cloth bunched in your fist. 
“Bin’s right there.” 
He nods at the garbage beside his desk. You falter before you can set your feet. You cross to his desk and drop your underwear into the metal container. 
“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before,” he leans forward, leering at you. “Critter, you’re as thick as syrup.” 
You recoil and step back on your heel. Your lip curls in derision. He’s mocking you. 
“Sir--” 
“I’m just tryna imagine the sound--” He leans back and closes his eyes, a grin curving his lips as he touches his temples, “the clap that ass would make as I’m balls deep--” 
“Stop!” You exclaim. “Alright! I got it. I’m disgusting. I get it.” You snarl. “Mr. Hansen, you’ve made your point.” 
His eyes open and he snickers again. He drops his hands as he pokes his tongue into his cheek. His brows rise and he glances down at his lap. 
“You think that’s what I’m doing?” He says. “Crit, I need you to lean over this desk and have a look at the point I’m making.” 
You grimace, “what are you--” 
“I’m about to bust out my jockeys. Just as much as you’re busting out of that skirt,” he reaches to his lap and rubs, letting out a groan. “And it’s not just because I own you. Uh uh, this is all you.” 
You back away. Mr. Hansen’s always been crass. Always been nasty. You prefer his loathing to whatever this is. You’d rather be humiliated than this. You suspect you will be either way. 
“I... I need to go,” you stagger back and hurry for the door. 
You grab the handle as you hear his chair squeak. He’s fast. He catches the door and pushes it back into the frame as he pens you in from behind. 
“I didn’t dismiss you,” he breathes against your ear. “So be a good little critter and get down on your knees.” 
You push back into him with your elbow, a nudge that begs him to get away. He grabs your arm and wrenches you away from the door. He hauls you back and tosses you so you stumble. 
“Critter, you get down and crawl for me. Now.” He sneers as he blocks the door with his figure. “Don’t stop until I say so.” 
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hederasgarden ¡ 7 hours ago
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Eternal Devotion (1/3)
Summary: Months after your husband's untimely death, his presence lingers, haunting you in ways you never expected. Pairing: Vampire!Friedrich Harding x Wife!Reader  Word Count: 3.9K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Heavy angst and grief, period typical sexism, creepy things, mildly dubious consent, sexual content, vampirism and all the warnings that come with that (I’m diverging from canon a bit in regards to feeding). This is my attempt at Gothic Romance. A/N:  The reader has always been Friedrich wife, Anna does not exist in this AU. Big thanks to @ryebecca, @otaku-girl-ao3, @whatblogisthis216 , @eremeldanin and @caught-reading for their help with this fic.  Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.
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Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist ♡ Masterlist
No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her. -Hozier
The room is dim with the curtains drawn tight, allowing only a sliver of daylight to creep through the gap. In the distance, the soft hum of morning activity rises from the rest of the house, the gentle chatter of your two daughters layered over the quiet rustling of the servants preparing for the day ahead. You should rise and follow the rhythm of the world outside this room, but you cannot. 
Friedrich has been gone nearly six months. It feels like a lifetime. The days stretch endlessly, and each one feels like an affront, a reminder that the world refuses to stop turning. How are you supposed to go on living? You know if you had died, Friedrich would have climbed into the casket beside you and his grief would have blotted out the sun.
But there was no casket for him. No body left to bury. He was swallowed by the sea, lost while fulfilling a promise you made, helping Ellen return to Thomas.
Your daughters do not yet grasp the finality of it. No matter how many times you tell them, they speak of their father like he is simply away at work, perhaps, or out on some important errand. And each morning they act as if he’s come to tuck them into bed, kiss their cheeks, and say their prayers like he did before. They look up at you with soft eyes, the very same as his and you must relive the pain of it again and again when you remind them their father is gone.
Sometimes, you wish you could believe your own dreams, the ones where Friedrich slips back into bed beside you. Yet even in those fleeting moments of illusion, something is wrong. The warmth you long for is absent. His touch is colder, harder, his presence not the way it used to be. When his lips meet your skin, it stings, sharp and unfamiliar, and the truth rises within you, pushing against the comfort of the dream. 
It’s not him. And it never will be. Now and forevermore, each morning you will wake to find the sheets beside you cold. Empty.
Everyone told you the grief would abate with time but these past few weeks have drained you more thoroughly than any that came before. Each morning, it feels as though your very blood has turned to sand, your bones to lead. Even the simple act of turning onto your back, to stare up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, takes more effort than you can summon. 
You remain in bed until the door creaks open, and the light sound of footsteps follows. Kerstin’s voice is no more than a whisper as she brushes your shoulder.
“Frau Harding. Your parents have arrived for breakfast. Your father wishes for you to join them.”
The sight of your maid’s pale, worried face is enough to rouse you. You let her dress and prepare you for the day. Although she’s done this a thousand times, there’s something about the way her hands hover over the buttons of your gown, the hesitation before each movement, that makes you feel like a stranger in your own skin. You see how she and the other servants watch you now. Even when they pretend to be absorbed in their tasks, their glances are sharp, laden with worry. They fear you’ll descend into the same madness as Ellen, but it is only your grief, so vast and deep, that’s reshaping you in ways you can’t even recognize. 
When you enter the dining room, your daughters rush to you. You hold them close, inhaling the familiar scent of their hair. Your mother greets you next, reaching out to cup your face in her hands, her fingers trembling slightly as they linger there. There is a deep sadness in her eyes and she glances over at your father with a look halfway between pleading and resignation.
“Come, you must eat,” she encourages, guiding you to sit beside her.
Your father, sitting at the head of the table, offers no such tenderness. His presence is a commanding weight in the room and the deep set of his brow lets you know this is not merely a social visit. You glance at your mother who stares at the hands in her lap and your fingers curl around the richly upholstered arm of the dining room chair. Whatever he has come to say will not be good, you realize. 
“The children are finished with their breakfast,” he announces sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a command. With a quick flick of his fingers, he gestures to the governess. “Take them to the parlor. Their mother and I have matters to discuss.”
Once they are gone, your father doesn’t wait long to speak again. “It has been six months,” he begins, his gaze unwavering. “Long enough. You must remarry, and soon.” 
You blink, momentarily stunned. Six months? Six months since Friedrich was swallowed by the sea, leaving nothing but an empty, aching space behind. Six months in which you have not even been able to make sense of the grief that clings to you like a second skin. How could he even think of you remarrying so soon?
“But… Father, I…” you begin, the words faltering in your throat.
He doesn’t let you finish, his voice growing sterner. “You must think of the future, not just of your own sorrow. The children need stability, and you need a husband. You cannot manage alone, not with the wealth you inherited from your late husband.”
You shake your head, even as you know there is a kernel of truth to his words. The vast estate, the shipyard, and the assets Friedrich once managed all fall on you now. It is a burden you are not prepared to shoulder and one you have steadily ignored these past months. But even beyond all that, the thought of remarrying, of taking another man into your life is something you can’t even entertain.
"I cannot… not yet," you whisper, barely above a breath. And in the pit of your chest, a deeper thought rises unbidden: Not ever.
“I understand your reluctance,” he says firmly. “But even now, men circle you like vultures. They want your husband’s wealth and his business. We must act swiftly and secure the right match — for you, for the children, for our family’s future.”
You swallow hard, the lump in your throat refusing to pass. Your hands move to straighten the cutlery in front of you, anything to occupy them, anything to hold off the flood of emotion threatening to spill over.
And then, almost without thinking, you speak. “You never say his name.”
Your father’s brow furrows. “What?”
“Friedrich,” you whisper. “It is always my husband or your son-in-law. You do not… you do not say his name.”
There is a long pause before your father clears his throat, dismissing the uncomfortable silence. “We cannot afford to linger on sentiment,” he says. “Sentiment will not feed the children or keep the business afloat. We need to think practically.”
You stare at him, hearing nothing more than the absence of your husband's name in his voice, the not-so-subtle command that you too must move on, move past this grief, and return to the world of the living. 
“You cannot make me do this.”
"Perhaps not," your father concedes, exhaling sharply. "But your husband has many cousins who would think nothing of reclaiming control over the business." He pauses, taking a deliberate sip of his water, his eyes never leaving yours. "Men who would see no value in a widow and her daughters when they have families of their own.”
His words have their desired effect, leaving you feeling small and powerless. Your shoulders slump, the strength in you draining away as your head hangs, heavy with the crushing knowledge of what awaits.
“Now, your mother has already arranged for you and the girls to have new clothes made for your return to society," he continues, his tone cool and businesslike. "We will host a small, intimate gathering. I will invite a few prospective suitors—men I consider promising options. You may, of course, choose which one you wish to pursue."
“How kind you are to offer me a say,” you murmur, the words bitter in your mouth.  
A muscle in his jaw twitches. “I know grief has stolen your good sense but you will watch your tongue when you speak to me,” your father warns. 
A surge of emotion rises within you, sharp and unwelcome, forcing its way up your throat. The words spill out before you can stop them, raw and unrestrained. “You would not speak to me this way if Friedrich were here.”
Your father shakes his head, rising from his seat to tower over you. “He is not here, my girl. He will never be here again. You are alone in a world that is unkind to women such as yourself.”
The pity in his eyes is more than you can bear. The dam breaks, and the first wave of tears crashes down, unbidden and unstoppable. A  flood that drags you under. You sink back into the chair, helpless as wracking sobs tear through you, a deep, raw ache flooding every part of your being.
Distantly, you hear your mother’s voice chastising your father. Her arms slip around you, pulling you close. She whispers gentle reassurances, her shushing echoing the soothing words you’ve said a hundred times to your own girls, but it feels empty now, a hollow repetition that cannot shield you from the brutal reality.
Friedrich is gone. And with him, any hope you once held of finding happiness.
–
When you step into your father’s parlor, the weight of every gaze in the room settles on you like a tangible thing. The faces that turn toward you are mostly unfamiliar, offering you that sad, understanding smile you’ve grown so weary of. It is a smile that means nothing at all in light of their presence here. Each one of them is complicit in your father’s schemes.
“You look lovely,” your father says. He presses his lips to your cheek in an exaggerated gesture of affection, more a farce than any real expression of love. “The blue truly suits you,” he adds, his eyes dropping to take in your fine silk dress. 
It’s the latest fashion from Paris, or so you’re told. Once, a dress like this would have delighted you—Friedrich always took such joy in bringing you the finest, most exquisite silks and fabrics from his travels. But now, the dress feels all wrong, too tight and too revealing, exposing more of your shoulder and décolletage than you’re comfortable with. 
You smile at your father. Even though it barely touches your lips it doesn’t seem to bother him. He simply sweeps you further into the room, his hand on your arm guiding you forward as he begins the task of making introductions. It’s a performance, and you are trapped at the center of it. But you do as your father and society demand, falling into the practiced motions of politeness. 
You engage in small talk, offering the kind of perfunctory responses that are expected of you, feigning interest in whatever these men have to say. Some ask after your children, while others offer their condolences for your loss. But behind their kindness lies a predatory sort of interest. It is all you can do to nod, offering your own strained smile as you stand there wondering how much longer you can keep up this charade.
When your father finally leaves you for a moment you close your eyes, exhaling. 
“Oh, dearest girl.” 
The unexpected voice makes you flinch. You turn, meeting a familiar pair of brown eyes of Herr Gothrim. Of all your father’s friends, he is the one you think might understand your plight the best. He lost his wife to the plague that swept the city nearly a year ago.
“It is shameful what your father is doing. Forcing you from your mourning period so soon.” He shakes his head. “Though, I confess, had I daughter like you I might be convinced to do the same.” He steps closer, his voice quieting. “You are the talk of the city and beyond.”
“They desire Friedrich’s wealth,” you reply. “Nothing more.”
Herr Gothrim stares at you for a moment before he speaks again, his words laden with something that makes your skin crawl.
“Do not sell yourself short. You are young. Beautiful. You might still bear your future husband a son or two.”
Friedrich had wanted a son. You knew that long before you ever married him. He had spoken of it often, longing to see his name carried on but he never once made you feel like an instrument to secure his legacy. More than that he loved your daughter fiercely, completely. And though it might have been a sin, he loved you even more.  
“I fear you will not have the luxury of time, my dear,” Herr Gothrim warns. “Your father will push forward with his plans, and if you do not make a choice, one will be made for you. Perhaps a familiar one would be best.”
His eyes briefly flick over his shoulder, and you follow his gaze. It rests on his son, Pieter. The sight of him makes a sharp, uncomfortable feeling bubbling up from within. Once, he had petitioned your father for your hand and before Friedrich had made his offer, Pieter had been the one your father had entertained as a potential suitor. 
To your dismay, Pieter seems to take your attention as an invitation, crossing the room to join the two of you. He greets you with an overly familiar kiss to your cheek that lingers, brushing against the corner of your lips. When he pulls away his hand remains on your elbow, tethering you to him. 
“Frau Harding, you look well,” he says brightly. “Or should it be Fräulein now?”
His boldness stuns you but before you can gather your thoughts, he continues, oblivious to the discomfort in your silence. “I must confess, I was both surprised and pleased to receive your father’s invitation. And to see you again after so long. I am eager for a second chance to win your hand.”
It is only the thought of your daughters and the need to ensure their future is safe that keeps grief from sharpening your tongue. You force your eyes downward, focusing on a speck of dust on his lapels to avoid looking at his face. “My father was pleased you accepted his invitation. He has always been fond of you,” you reply hollowly.
Pieter smiles, seemingly unaware of how your voice thins and your words fall flat and meaningless. 
“You look cold,” he observes. “Come, you should warm yourself by the fire as we reacquaint ourselves. My import business has grown greatly since we last spoke.”
His touch feels possessive, demanding even yet you are helpless to do anything more than follow him. You catch your father’s eyes when you pass him. He looks pleased and it turns your stomach. 
Pieter keeps you by his side for the rest of the evening, his words a constant hum around you. Whether he’s wholly unaware of your discomfort or willfully blind to it, you can’t decide. His conversation is a relentless stream of boasts about his business, his wealth, and his success, as though he expects you to be impressed, to be eager for his attention. Each time you try to excuse yourself, your attempts are dismissed with a smile and an insistent push to stay.
It isn’t until your mother comes to collect you at the end of the night that you are finally freed from his hold. You follow her away from the gathering and into the waiting carriage, Pieter’s gaze lingering on you. 
You’re so exhausted on the ride home that the muffled sound of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestone streets and the rocking of the carriage nearly lulls you into sleep. You find your daughters are already in bed when you arrive at the house. Though you loathe to disturb their peaceful slumber, you find yourself drawn to them, compelled to check on them before you can rest. You make your way down the dark hallway, the soft creak of the floorboards beneath your feet the only sound betraying your presence.
When you crack open the door to their room, a cool rush of air greets you, sending a shiver through you. You find their window unlatched, the curtains fluttering in the autumn breeze that has slipped in. Startled, you step further into the room, a wave of panic rising in your chest. You move quickly to reach the window and quietly shut it again. 
Once it is secured, you turn to your girls. The sight of them, peaceful and safe in their beds, eases some of the tension in your chest. Your youngest clutches a slip of fabric in her hands, her tiny face relaxed in sleep. There is something about the cloth she holds that gives you pause. You kneel beside her, gently prying it from her grasp. At the sight of the familiar handkerchief and your own needlework, worn and fraying with time, your breath stutters in your throat. 
It was one of the first gifts you ever gave Friedrich, back when he was still courting you. You had made him dozens more over the years, but still, he carried it with him, even as it began to unravel at the edges. You always assumed it was lost with him and to find it here, tucked in your daughter’s hands, feels like both a balm and a wound.
Fingers trembling, you press the fabric to your face and close your eyes. For a brief moment, you swear you can still smell Friedrich’s cologne, faint but unmistakable. You linger in that moment until your daughter shifts in her sleep and you're brought back to reality. Carefully, you tuck the handkerchief into her tiny hands and kiss her forehead before retreating from the room.
–
Your dreams are restless, an amalgam of fractured images and disjointed sensations. Pieter’s dark, unblinking eyes merge with the black fabric of your mourning gown, and then, without warning, the scene shifts, plunging you into the vast, endless depths of the sea that claimed Friedrich. 
The cold water envelops you, and you gasp for air, but the water rushes in, drowning your cries. In your panic, you thrash wildly, desperate for escape. Just as you feel yourself slipping into the abyss, strong hands seize you, pulling you upward. Your eyes snap open, your breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. The water recedes, and in its place, Friedrich’s face fills your vision.
“I am here, I am here, my love,” he murmurs softly, pressing his forehead to yours. His hand rests lightly on your chest, guiding your breath to match his steady rhythm, coaxing the frantic pace of your heart to slow.  
You stare at him as the world crystallizes around you. Then, you surge forward, your lips crashing into his with a desperation that consumes you. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, clutching him tightly like he might vanish if you let go. The kiss is a lifeline and you cling to it with a need so raw it aches.
“Friedrich,” you gasp, reveling in the familiar tickle of his mustache and his strong hands on your body.  
For a fleeting moment, you wonder if this is real, if he’s truly here, or if your grief has finally unraveled, conjuring him from the depths of the ocean to haunt you. But then, as his lips press urgently against yours and the solid weight of him fills your arms, you decide you don’t care. It doesn’t matter if he is a ghost, risen from the sea’s cold embrace. Nor does it matter that death has leached the color from his cheeks and the warmth from his hands. All that matters is that he’s here.
“My love,” you cry. 
“I am here,” he promises, trailing his lips down the side of your throat until his mouth seals over the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. 
He lingers there, the sting of his kiss euphoric. You bury your fingers in his thick curls, tugging gently and he all but growls against your skin. With his mouth still on you, his fingers tug at your nightgown, baring your body to his eager hands. They slip between your parted thighs, finding your wet heat, and stealing it away as they work you to the peak of pleasure. Friedrich groans and the pain in your neck flares, sharp and sudden.
When he pulls away, a wave of exhaustion crashes over you, leaving you breathless and spent. You stare up at him as your vision shifts, the world taking on a hazy hue. In the dim light, his blue eyes are dark, almost silvery, and something deep within you recoils, an instinctive fear that you can’t quite name. But then, he blinks, and just as quickly the shadow fades. The warmth of his gaze returns, and those same familiar blue eyes, the ones you’ve loved for so long, look down at you with tenderness.
Your fingers hover over his face, longing to touch him again. But a painful realization stops you. 
"You are not real.” The words leave you in a rush. 
“Does it matter if I am?" he asks. "Does this not bring you peace, my love?"
You shake your head, the pain of his absence still raw in your chest. You can’t resist the pull of him, the need to feel close again, even if only in this fleeting moment. Without thinking, you draw him down to kiss you, and the taste of him is sharp, unexpectedly coppery.
"It is a horrible thought," you murmur, breaking the kiss, "but I wish I would not wake when morning comes. I want to stay here with you. In this dream."
A deep frown forms between his brows, and his hand finds your cheek, his touch colder than it should be. His mouth parts slightly, and his teeth, white and sharp, glimmer faintly against his pale lips. 
“You do not wish to find a new husband? To live?” he questions. 
"I wish only for you," you say, voice trembling but sure. "And for our girls."
“My dearest wife,” he whispers, kissing you sweetly. “I will never leave you. I cannot.”
A soft moan slips from you, unbidden, the sound encouraging him to kiss you deeper. His lips move with a possessive tenderness that fills the hollow spaces inside you. “Nor would I ever let you go," he promises. “We are bound even in death.”
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cheruv-ii ¡ 2 days ago
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Going to respond to this by numbered points because its easiest for me.
1.Me "glossing over" things, if I forgot things I apologize, however nothing I said was meant to ignore certain points. Yes, children are in the fandom, children are gonna look at things with big eyes, however, you do still have to understand that this is simply a little award thing with no basis to it, when I say people are taking it too seriously, I mean I have seen the behind the scenes where people have genuinely attacked Salem for it. People have been taking this too seriously, there is no loss to it, I'm sorry if that sounds rude but its just how it is.
2.The kpop comment was a joke, I was making a comment on how every kpop award is based on voting, I know these are not at all comparable.
3.Obviously there are going to be some "Bad apples", but as Salem said, they didn't know there was a way to turn it off, and yes, they did have trust in the fandom. Comparing erasure and homophobia to a few people rigging a vote is a little crazy, I will not lie to you.
4.I didn't get rarepairs confused with anything, rarepairs can be used to refer to any pair. Yes, certain crackships CAN be rarepairs, being a crackship does not mean it can't be a rarepair. Rarepair has never been about canon x canon, it has simply been a rarepair. Ntm, if people were upset about Luciben being considered, they should've dmed Salem beforehand, not made multiple comments, reblogs, and attacks after the results came out, that doesn't help anyone. When Eljack and other ships like that were first created and referred to as a rarepair, they WERE unpopular, and were considered rarepairs. I don't think Soyonlynn is a rarepair, but I'm not making multiple posts about it because as you mentioned, it is an opinion.
5.I'm sorry Salem for what I'm about to say, but Salem's acc really is not popular enough for this to be a thing that boosts someones tumblr career. This isn't a p*wdiepie jacksepticeye situation where Salem has millions of followers, its a very small tumblr award done by a very small tumblr acc. Yes I understand kids could look at it as something bigger than it is, but just like you believe that me saying to sit back isn't a good response, I believe that telling them that they should be upset over this isn't a good response.
Tl;dr, if people had issues with the categories and nominess, they should've been brought to Salem in private, not waited until after the results were in to make multiple posts and comments about it. Yes, this award could mean something more to someone, but in the end there really is no loss to it and some of the responses really are not necessary.
Edit:If any of what I'm saying is coming off as rude or disrespectful, I really do not mean it that way, I find it very hard to convey tone over text. None of this is meant to downplay how anyone feels, simply a matter of I have seen some very rude responses Salem has got and these reblogs are the only ways I can properly respond to those, even if the people I'm responding to directly aren't the ones being rude.
CC/CT Tumblr Awards Final Results
Thank you all for participating in the awards. These awards were created as a way for the fandom to have fun and interact with creators that they may not have seen before, while also giving thanks to all creators in this fandom. Whether you write, draw, edit or create headcanons and memes for all to enjoy you are a vital part of the camp cretaceous/chaos theory fandom and the fandom would be much duller without you. Whether you have received an award or not you are a truly valued member of this community.
The winner of each award will be announced in the reblogs of this post.
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snailsgoingdowntown ¡ 19 hours ago
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Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!
  1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13
Chapter 14
‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader
Arranged marriage AU
Interact with this post to be on the tag list. Read DNI/BYF first.
NOTE: I think we can all agree that Dion deserves to suffer at least a bit <3  (Just a bit <3)
Warnings: toxic marriage/relationship, general yandere themes, obsessive and possessive themes/behavior, jealousy, anxiety, implied/mentioned past child abuse/neglect, mention of murder, implied murder, slight blood, mention of drugs (sleeping pills), mention of past alcohol consumption, mention of alcohol poisoning. Please tell me if I missed any.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.
MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR REBLOG FANDOM RELATED THINGS (FICS, ART, ECT.) DNI. 
= = =
It’s been two days since Dion Agriche indirectly told you that you’re his and that nothing will ever change that fact.
His proclamations only serve to make you feel like a possession. A pretty little songbird locked in a gilded cage, her ‘master’ unwilling to set her free. And the reason? To hear her sing until her last breath, voice hoarse and throat bleeding.
Sighing, you lean against the railing on the terrace, the light breeze flowing through your hair. The soft glow of the moonlight casts over the area, dark blue sky filled with twinkling stars. It’s peaceful. 
The heavy smell of outside and iron fills your senses, a quick frown tugging at your lips before forcing it away.
“You’re still awake.” 
Well, it was peaceful until a certain sadistic and horrible man draped a coat over your shoulders. You didn’t even hear the doors open, too lost in thought. Dion towers over you easily, and his presence is a nuisance. Unwanted.
He left for a mission earlier today yet he’s already back…
The warmth from the coat only makes you shiver, the blasted thing a ‘gift’ given to you by Maria on your wedding day. You frown when the man gathers your hair and brings it out from under the coat's collar, letting it float down over the material. His gentleness makes you sick.
“And you’re back,” you complain rather than state in a trembling whisper. You’ll never get used to this, to him. His gaze burns, and you’re unable to turn around to properly greet him. Not that you want to - everything about the man was repulsive - his face, his voice, his height, his name, even the color of his hair and eyes.
He makes you sick.
Another soft breeze as crickets chirp into the night. Below you, two servants walk, their hideous uniforms proudly worn. They look young - most likely in their early to mid twenties. One with dark brown hair and the other dark grey-ish. 
Your husband’s stare burns harsher the longer you look at the two young men. Even so, you don’t look away, even when he moves to stand to your right side, fingers brushing against yours. Like a puppy asking for attention. Despite horror filling your entire being, you don’t tear your gaze away from the two men below you, nor do you stop yourself from moving your hand away from him.
Maybe it was a small act of defiance - aka, showing Dion that you would rather look at any man that wasn’t him. Of course, you’ll come to regret this in the morning, but right now, you crave to interrupt his peace as he had done to yours. Even as your legs begin to buck under your weight.
Ignoring the pressure building in your temples and silencing your gulps, you hope that Dion doesn’t see through you immediately. Your mother would have a heart attack had she been here, witnessing her married daughter give more attention to  nameless men and not her arranged husband. 
Perhaps feeling eyes on them, both men look up, surprised to see as you smile oh so sweetly at them and wave. Ignoring the rapidly forming panic pulling at your heart strings, you watch as they blink before bowing, flustered as light pink spreads across the apples of their cheeks. 
Just two normal men.
“Good evening, My Lady!” They shout in unison. However, when they raise their heads, their cheeks go from pink to pale as their expressions twist into ones of terror. The reason is obvious, your husband wrapping an unwanted arm around your shoulders, gloved hand gripping the side of the left one tighter than necessary. You can only imagine the look he’s giving them.
They scamper off immediately, knowing better than to stay longer than necessary, knowing that greeting the Young Master would only aggravate him more, as the servants would get to look at you, his pretty wife, his possession, for longer.  
You feel bad now, forgetting for a moment that your husband is possessive.
“I’m right here yet you’d rather look at them?” His voice does a complete 180 -  voice once calm now filled with jealousy you can’t begin nor want to understand. You don’t answer. You look ahead of you, scared shitless once the reality of what you just had done hits you in full.
Am I trying to kill myself!?
The air feels colder, goosebumps forming on your skin. Despite the coat, you shiver. And while his stare burns hot, your blood runs cold. So close to curling into yourself, you blame the breeze for your trembling body.
It seems that cold sweats are a permanent thing for you now, biting the inside of your cheek as you break out into one. One hand gripping the front of the coat to hold it tighter against you, your fingers twitch as his gloved hand moves from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, and then up to the base of your head, fingers tangling themselves in your tresses. 
Soft and gentle, it reminds you of the scene where he asked Roxana the location of Cassis’ hiding place.
The memory quickly fades into the background as Dion leans down just enough to whisper in your ear. He’s very fond of doing so, apparently. So fond of it, that whenever the opportunity arises, he’ll take it.
And your body is becoming accustomed to his hot breath, lying to itself, saying it feels good just so you won’t break out into another panic attack. However, you can start to hear the blood rush in your ears, a small built up tear catching in your lashes. Is this all you’re capable of doing? Crying?
“You never look or smile at me so sweetly.” 
There is some resentment in his voice, but his tone doesn’t drip with it. “But you smiled at two random men who aren’t your husband?” His next sentence almost sounds betrayed, and it’s funny seeing how your husband had never done a thing to earn your sweetness. 
You can’t find your voice. 
You can’t force yourself to please him, either.
Nor can you turn away and walk into the room, throwing the coat to the floor. 
The only thing you can do is endure. 
And even then, you’re barely holding up.
“Even now you’re trying your best to ignore me.” He sounds tired - he should go to sleep. Go to sleep and leave you alone, like he should, but two days ago he imprinted himself fully onto you. In the most horribly way possible, nightmares slowly become reality as he refuses to set his eyes on another. 
“I never imagined that my wife could be so cruel,” he teases, lips almost touching your ear. You blink once, twice, before leaning your head away, unable to stand his body heat for much longer. Unable to endure his ‘affection’ for a second longer, shrugging off his arm and the tall male lets you go. Not without an emotion you wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint as it flashes in his eyes before he blinks it away had you seen it.
“I never imagined that my husband would be so horrible,” you blurt out without meaning to, wincing once your own words register in your brain after it’s too late. Your heart speeds up. Right hand forming a shaking fist, your nails break skin, the action not enough to distract you. 
You made a horrible and dangerous mistake. But it’s too late to take it back, sweat running down your temples. 
There’s a sting in your thumb and a crave for flesh in your mouth. Your toes curl in your soft slippers. The seconds feel like hours, waiting for his response, be it physical or verbal.
“You’re right - not that it changes anything.” He doesn’t waste a breath in agreeing with you.
Without another word, your husband guides you back into the room. He’s behind you, and curiosity has always killed the cat, which is why despite your fear, your shivering figure, you look over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Dion Agriche.
His scarlet eyes glow, the dark circles under them worse than they were two days ago, inky black hair that small clunks of dirt cling to, and smeared crimson blood across his face. When your gaze travels down, there’s also dirt and small specks of blood on his cloak, the article of clothing wrinkled.
He didn’t even bother to wash up.
Like the first thing he wanted to do - no need to do was see you. 
The sentiment is lost and ignored as you turn back around. Husband or not, you refuse to see Dion Agriche as anything else but a threat. That’s the only thing you know him as.
Had you looked back, you would have noticed Dion reaching into his pocket only to pull it back out after a thought. He watches as you remove the coat from your shoulders and hang it back up in the closet - out of sight, out of mind.
He hums.
Pointer finger taping against his pocket, he mulls over whether to give you the small jewelry piece in a little blue box he brought back, knowing it would look pretty on you. He decides not to in the end, knowing you wouldn’t accept it.
That’s usually how it starts.
- - -
“- it’s fine, really. No, no, it’s okay. I don’t mind looking after her for a few more days… Hm? Of course she behaves - (Name) is always a good girl.”
Your grandmother’s voice travels from the living room into the kitchen where you’re doing your homework. Pencil in hand, you keep rereading the question, only to repeat the process as the printed words look blurred and jumbled together. The grandfather clock goes off, telling you that it’s midnight. 
Your grandmother ends the call without asking if you wanted to speak to your dad.
Not that it matters - he always texts you a ‘good morning,’ at seven-am on the dot. Never failing to do it once, it always brings a smile to your face.
As it should.
Your grandmother doesn’t say anything as she heads up the stairs, leaving you to your own devices. And you do the same. A mutual agreement between grandmother and granddaughter. Love and affection were a curious and complicated subject.
Regardless, you stay in the kitchen, hearing dogs bark outside and beer bottles thrown to the ground, on an average ‘Saturday night’. You scribble something on the paper before erasing it only to repeat it again and again. By the time you solve the third question out of ten, the sun has come up, Sunday morning greeting you.
- - -
“Thank you for inviting me, mother-in-law.”
Maria had invited you for tea in her room, far from any prying eyes. Hana is right at your side, ready to receive any orders that either you or your mother-in-law may give her. Her expression is stern, not an ounce of emotion in those eyes of hers. 
So unlike the Hana that helped you get ready for the dinner with Dion and Lant three days ago. The Hana who showed some level of concern for you, who scolded two other maids while keeping her head leveled and not punishing them, assuming she had the power to do so.
“Oh, it’s no problem - as in-laws, we should bond and spend time together.” Her smile is far too bright and sweet for that… eccentric personality of hers. She continues, “besides, I heard that you were sick after the dinner with Lant. Was it food poisoning?” 
She genuinely looks concerned as she questions you, but it’s Maria; a snake that coils itself around its prey once the opportunity arises. And you’re already on that list, right behind Sierra in terms of ‘affection’ which your mother-in-law confuses for ‘mental torture.’ 
How aware the brunette is of this, you’re not sure. 
“O-oh… I just drank a little too much…,” your chuckle is awkward, eyes landing on your tea cup. Your smile feels strained.
 She startles you with a sharp gasp.
“So it was alcohol poisoning? (Name), dear, are you alright?” She hurries to your side like a loving mother, her gloved hands gently placing themselves on your shoulders. She doesn’t squeeze them, unlike her son. She doesn’t look at you with a need to own your entire being, either.
“O-oh, I’m fine now, I promise, mother-in-law.” Despite your practiced smile, her uneasy expression doesn’t leave her pretty and soft facial features. Her reaction reminds you of your mother’s the one time you accidentally ate a poisonous plant… wait, no, her reaction was much worse than this. 
“That Lant-!” You’re caught off guard when she curses her own husband, leaving her ‘unlovable’ son out of it. Like that dreadful sociopath wasn’t there.
You blink, unable to form words, watching as her expression morphe into one of frustration only to soften almost immediately when she locks eyes with you. Sweetly smiling at you, she threads her fingers through your hair. 
It feels like she’s trying to replace your mother.
The thought makes you sick.
“I’m sorry for acting out like that. Lant is usually careful with handing out alcohol - and while Dion can be…careless, he’s not used to drinking with others.” Pigs are flying in your old world, they have to be, because how and why is Maria standing up for the son she never wanted?
“It’s - it’s fine… it’s my fault for going past my limit.” You’re not lying, you really were careless about your intake of the bitter wine. You learned your lesson - you want to avoid waking up with a hangover again…
You want to avoid Dion ‘comforting’ and touching you.
“Still, he should have seen the tell-tell signs,” she sighs before turning to Hana. “What was your name again?” She questions your aide. Your heart drops.
Wait, didn’t she ask that same question to a maid she killed right after…?
“It’s Hana, my Lady.” She bows without a single change in her expression. No twitch of the eyebrow or lips. Her face remains stoic.
“Hana. What a pretty name. Now tell me, where were you when your Master got drunk?” Her voice is sweet but the question is threatening. Like the weakling you are, all you do is sit, hopelessly praying that Maria won’t lay a hand or harm Hana in any way or form.
“I was fixing up her room on Young Master’s Dion’s orders.” Her answer is direct, not once breaking eye contact with your extremely dangerous mother-in-law. 
“I see. Is Dion your Master?” 
“No, my Lady. I was put under Lady (Name) a bit after she arrived here.”
The interrogation goes on, and every second feels like an hour. The room must be hot since you’re almost drowning in sweat. You gulp as Maria continues.
“By who?”
“Young Master Dion, my Lady.”
While her answer should confirm some things, you’re too focused on her safety to soak in the information. Too worried that her head will roll right off her shoulders.
“Dion? I see. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he carelessly gave my precious daughter-in-law such an incompetent maid.” 
SCREECHED!
“Mother-in-law, believe it or not, but Hana has been very helpful. It’s because of her that I’m adapting so well so quickly. You help too, of course.” 
You don’t remember getting up. You don’t remember gently grabbing Maria’s shoulders like a daughter showing  affection to her mother. You don’t remember smiling so brightly that it looks genuine, enough so that your personal maid looks surprised, already knowing how much you hate being here.
“She’s always at my beck and call - ready to serve me in the dead of the night, regardless if I dismissed her for the day. While one could say she went against my orders, personally, I see it as an act of loyalty.” Your words flow out smoothly, like you weren’t on the verge of breaking down sobbing.
You don’t know why you’re standing up for a maid who’s possibly spying on you for either Dion or Lant. A maid you barely know, much less considered as a ‘friend.’ A maid you have only known for a few weeks.
Most likely it’s because you don’t want to be introduced to a new one - it would be a waste of time, really. Hana already knows your habits with her keen eyes and senses. She knows what clothes and hairstyles look best on you. Her tea is delicious. Her excuses worked in your favor.
It would be a waste to replace her with a maid who might not even know what to do. 
That’s all it is.
“So please, don’t blame her - she thought she was doing the best for me, her Master.”
You don’t let go of her shoulders even when you’re scared shitless, worried you crossed a boundary even though she always crosses yours. You wait with baited breath for her response, hoping you didn’t fuck up big time.
“Well,” Maria turns around to face you, removing your hands from her person to hold them instead. “I suppose I can give her another chance. I only want the best for you.” 
After hearing her words, you can only think of and pity your husband. She cares more for a stranger than her own flesh and blood - a child she neglected and left in the hands of one of the worst people in existence. 
Pushing the thought away, your body relaxes a bit. “Thank you. I’m really grateful for you, mother-in-law.” It’s a lie but as she strokes your hair with tenderness you weren’t aware she could show to anyone aside from Sierra, you almost forget how crazy and brutal she is.
You almost forgot that this woman did not tend to her growing, lonely son as she should have.
“Anytime, (Name), anytime.” 
Your gut tells you that you only entangled yourself with this crazed woman more. 
- - -
“Hana, can you fetch me some sleeping pills? I think I’ll need them…” 
“Yes, My Lady. I’ll be back in a moment.” The events that transpired an hour ago aren’t mentioned, both parties silently and mutually deciding that it wasn’t worth it. Which is why Hana didn’t question you once you left Maria’s room an hour later, despite her curious gaze. 
Honestly, you’re still not sure why or how you did it.
With a sigh you kick off your heels once you reach the bed, head low, finding that lifting it would take too much effort. Last night you had to deal with Dion - today, it was Maria. The worst part was that the day hadn't ended yet, but you know for a fact if you didn’t request sleeping pills now you wouldn’t remember until Dion is ‘sleeping’ on your shared bed.
Landing on your stomach, your body lightly bounces on the comfortable bed. The scent of bergamot oranges soothes your nerves. Relieved, you nuzzle your head into your pillow, finally having a beautiful peaceful moment all to yourself in this fucking psychward.
 The ‘sugary’ voice of Maria is gone, anxiety about accidentally catching sight of one of her ‘dolls’ is out of mind. Dread that you might run into another one of your in-laws faded away the moment Hana opened the bedroom doors. Also, the fact you didn’t see Lant at all lifts your mood.
Not to mention that your horrible, frightful, perverted, annoying husband was nowhere in sight -
“You seem to be in a good mood.” A boyish voice fills the silence. 
…huh…?
Lifting yourself into a sitting position, legs hanging off the bed, you look towards the doors. You think you’re dreaming, for one, this person just waltzed into the room like nothing, clearly sneaking in right after Hana. The other reason is because the boy with leaves and goo in his hair is -
“Jeremy?”
= = =
Tag list: @tiny-mimi @pix-stuff @umi-adxhira @queenofspades403 @darkumbreon92 @manitscold @puggyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
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everythingwasnormalhere ¡ 2 months ago
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trans day of remembrance please for fuck's sake remember disabled trans people this time, dont leave it to us to be the only ones who mourn them
so many posts about today and ive seen nobody mention them. nobody at all.
im fucking tired.
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jungwoosung ¡ 1 day ago
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@secretwriterstudentjaune lm not a native English speaker, so when I looked up lunar calendar for the first time, and learned that it's an Islamic calendar, I genuinely felt sorry for taking something from the muslim culture and used it on a holiday that's not based on the culture. Why would you think like that? Or is it a joke that's supposed to be funny?
If lunar calendar is really an umbrella term and it includes lunisolar calendar, then I will apologize for making a fuss over nothing. But Wikipedia does tell me lunar calendar should be distinguish from lunisolar calendar. I wanted to respect both the muslim culture and the asian culture. Why is that laughed at? You guys are all just very inclusive.
Ps. My main is shadowbanned, so I can't reply. So this is why I used reblog.
It's always Chinese New Year because Lunar New Year is a fake concept, calling Chinese New Year Lunar New Year is actually cultural appropriation, unless you guys are willing to let Chinese call Christmas Koreanmas
This video explains very clearly that the Chinese New Year is determined by the Nanjing Zijinshan Observatory, the date of each year is different, and the determination method is complicated, combining the solar calendar, the lunar calendar, the celestial trunk and earthly branches, and the geographical latitude and longitude. Chinese New Year is actually based on Chinese agriculture calendar, not a simple lunar calendar at all, if it's based only on lunar calendar, then the Chinese New Year date should fall close to the summer months, so calling it LNY is not only disrespectful to Chinese culture, but also unreasonable.
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mishy-mashy ¡ 9 months ago
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I said this in a whole reblog, but just copy-pasting to a separate post because I think it'll give some reading comprehension and reblogs don't show up in the search feature.. again, I'm reiterating what I said in another post.
Go check out @demidokuriya 's post for this; OP's post made me put this all down in like. 20 minutes. Mind went vroom vroom cuz HEY THEY'RE ONTO SOMETHING.
(They also reblogged the post with some hint to some behind the scenes of what led to the ideas if you wanna check that out)
Look below at how, when Mineta told AFO to spare Tokoyami, AFO specifically went "..."
He remembers Jirou and thinks, The braying howls of the weak...
He was going to take Tokoyami's Quirk. He took Hawks'. But after Mineta pleaded with him, AFO just straight-up left and didn't take anyone else's Quirk.
AFO saw Yoichi in Mineta.
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These scenes are near-identical to each other.
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Mineta and Yoichi (at that time) are both much smaller than the normal person at their age
They're both hurt, yet dragged themselves up from the ground to throw something at AFO, to get his attention and make their voice
Both are considered weak, even if they have a Quirk (Mineta's Pop-Off and Yoichi's undeveloped Factor)
The fact that Yoichi got AFO's attention here by throwing a can at him, while Mineta got his attention by throwing a Pop-Off ball; and it stuck.
Mineta's call for his attention landed and actually stuck to AFO. This is unlike when Yoichi and his can bounced off, and AFO kicked him, not listening to him; AFO listened to Mineta and left Tokoyami alone, technically doing what Mineta wanted—to not hurt this person.
AFO just went on to hurt more people away from Mineta's [Yoichi's] eyes so the small weakling wouldn't see.
Yoichi and Mineta both cried to AFO to not hurt in his ways, when AFO was intent on stealing people's Quirks
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AFO even stole Hawks' Quirk during this time.
He had time to steal Hawks' Quirk, and though he could've tossed him to the side, he let Hawks stand in his way.
He had the energy. Right after this event, he flew off and left the scene. But he didn't go for Tokoyami immediately.
And this let Mineta play his part, and remind AFO of Yoichi.
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"A putrid, festering Quirk Factor."
That sounds like Yoichi, AFO.
".. such garbage."
Hey hey hey, what did Yoichi throw at him when they were kids?
A discarded can. Garbage.
This chapter (385) where AFO listens to Mineta is literally called [A Youthful Urge].
Mineta told AFO to take his Pop-Off (hurt him) instead. But last time, AFO hurt Yoichi by kicking him; this time, AFO not only listened to Mineta to not hurt Tokoyami, but didn't touch Mineta at all.
Even though this time, Mineta [Yoichi] offered to take that place of suffering.
Yoichi didn't do that back then. AFO just turned on little Yoichi anyway.
Yoichi through his whole existence is literally [the braying howls of the weak]. AFO acknowledges he's weak and idealistic, yet he still loves him.
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Side note about this panel, I think it's interesting that in this vision, this was the first time we saw Yoichi's eyes: when he was being defiant, despite being pushed down by someone much stronger than him.
Really characteristic of him, honestly. Yoichi's soft-spoken and frail, but it's always reiterated that Yoichi had a powerful will against his stronger big brother.
Mineta at this moment reminded him too much of Yoichi, because the two scenes are near-identical to each other. Parallels, really.
Reiterating something from OP's post that I reblogged this from;
"The reminder of his brother made him uncomfortable, so he hurried away."
AFO didn't want to hurt Yoichi again.
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor ¡ 11 hours ago
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Same as it ever was 14
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.
Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner
Note: Happy Tuesday
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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“Promise, Pete, I’ll get her back in one piece,” Hansen vows with a wink and a nudge. 
You sit helpless in his passenger seat. He has one hand on the open door as he faces your husband. Pete won’t look at you but you can barely do the same of him. Funny, how you’re so eager to be away from him that you’re not even that bothered at the prospect of spending the day with your boss. 
“You’re a life saver. Really. Never had a boss that cool,” Pete says. 
“Well, you know, I gotta admit. Your wife carries a big load at work. She’s saved my ass more than once and she kinda holds the whole place together. I’m sure you know exactly what that’s like, huh?” Hansen proclaims. 
“Uh, yeah I do,” Pete has the decency to sound ashamed. It’s too bad he couldn’t have seen that years ago. 
“Lucky man. We’re gonna figure it out. She’s strong, we both know you can’t keep her down,” he clicks his tongue.  
“Right, uh, well, I could take her if it’s easier.” 
“What? Pete? You were just telling me about that big meeting. Good luck!” He slaps Pete’s shoulder. “You’ll have to bring us some good news.” 
“Uh, right,” Pete grumbles, “um, honey, I... I love you. I hope the doctor can help.” 
“Thanks,” you say curtly. “Don’t wanna be late.” 
“Gotta listen to the wife, right? Always knows best,” Hansen chortles. “Watch out, sweetheart, don’t wanna catch you.” 
He closes the door as you keep your head straight. Their voices are muffled and you’re thankful for the mental break. The two of them don’t stop. You don’t know how you didn’t see the similarities before. 
You close your eyes and Lloyd drops into the driver’s side. You don’t flinch. He turns the engine and you stay just as you are. He pulls out and the motion sends a ripple through you. The painkiller might have something to do with that. 
“So, the old man and you are... icy,” he says. 
“That’s personal.” 
“Well, baby cakes, think we’re well past blurring lines,” he scoffs. 
“What do you care?” 
“Hey, I’m not entirely heartless. My balls just happen to be more sensitive,” he snickers. “Trust me, I’m not getting sentimental. I want you back to operational. That means whatever stick is lodged up your ass needs to come out so mine can get in.” 
“Disgusting,” you growl. 
“Mm, please, talk dirty to me, baby,” he purrs. 
You snap your mouth shut and grimace. You can’t help but think of the night before. Of Pete all over you. Just like the man beside you, he didn’t listen either. Your own husband... 
“Jesus, I know you’re high on percs but try to lighten up,” he intones. 
You rub your cheek and pry your eyes open, “are you really taking me to a doctor?” 
“As much as I’d rather be taking you to a penthouse and breaking your back more than it already is, yes, I’m taking you for real help. I got a magic mustache and even better tongue but I can’t fix whatever the fuck happened to you,” he shakes his head. “And judging by the way that creature had his tail tucked up where his dick should be, I think he had something to do with it.” 
He sniffs and squints at the road. He gives a thoughtful hum. 
“Petey doesn’t seem like the wife beater type, but I guess-” 
“The fuck? He didn’t-- Argh!” You grip your hip and spasm as you tense at the accusation. “He didn’t... mean to. I slipped.” 
“Huh, dropped you? Man can’t handle all of you, can he?” 
“Hansen,” you warn. 
“I could give him some lessons, if you want.” 
“Stop, please. I’m already going insane with you--” 
“Oh, I know, I got that something that makes the ladies go wacky,” he preens. 
“Urgh, for the love--” 
“Relax. Please. You really can’t help yourself. You’re making it worse. Legit. You’re getting actually butthurt because you can’t let up for one minute,” he reprimands. “I’m dying to get in there and loosen you up but you gotta meet me halfway. So chill.” 
You growl but try to take his advice. The tension is too much. If you keep going on like this, something’s going to give. With what the doctor said about your blood pressure, it could even be your heart. 
You watch the road. It’s nice to not be in control. To not be taxiing someone around; to not be the one worried about time or anything. Still, it’s that underlying reality that keeps you edgy. 
Lloyd pulls in at a clinic on the north end. It’s the kind you could never afford. You’re pretty sure you get a free Costco membership just for being a patient. 
As he parks, you sit up. He tuts, “now, you let good old Lloyd help you with your broken tush, babykins.” 
You send him a derisive look but don’t argue. The painkiller is kicking in and makes even him tolerable. He gets out and you watch him come around. 
He opens your door and with uncharacteristic caution, slides his arm behind you. You lean on him as you stand. He’s actually helping you. Your back buckles but he keeps you steady. He closes the door with his other arm and ushers you slowly across the lot. 
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You ask. 
“What?” He laughs. “I’m helping you, sweet cheeks.” 
“Exactly. You’re helping me. Why?” 
“I’ve been pretty honest how hungry I am for the peach,” he returns. 
“It can’t be just that.” you growl. “I’m not stupid.” 
“Oh, I know you aren’t. That’s half the fun. Easy enough to get a bimbo on my desk. Boring, now that I think of it--” 
You hiss and grab onto his forearm to keep from collapsing. You hate that you’re latching onto him for comfort. At that moment, you don’t have much else; in several ways. 
“Easy, alright,” he coaxes. “We’ll get you inside and sitting down. Hopefully it’s not as bad as it looks.” He whistles as he approaches the doors and kicks the automatic door button. “You’re looking rough.” 
“Gee, thanks, Hansen. You really know how to flatter a woman.” 
“More like flatten but we’ll get to that.” 
“Gah,” you snarl as he ushers you through the lobby. “You are the most vile man I’ve ever met.” 
“Ah, you really think so?” He angles you with him as he approaches the elevator and reaches to tap the button. “I don’t got a wife and kids at home waiting for me as I’m fucking the intern. Nah, I’m just tempting a working mom into adultery--” 
“Shut the fuck up!” You bark as the doors open. An elder woman is wheeled out at she sends you an appalled gape. Lloyd smiles and guides you into the elevator. 
“Not hard to piece together, you know?” 
“I’m telling you,” you warn him as the lobby is shut out by the metal doors. “It’s none of your business.” 
“It’s not and I don’t really care if Pete is boning the assistant he’s underpaying. But it explains a lot.” 
“Does it?” You snip. 
“Oh yeah. The way you leak like a faucet whenever I’m near for one--” 
“Gross.” 
“And the skill. Ma’am, I know you’ve been dreaming of it in that empty bed. The neglected wife, wiling away her spare hours, longing... well, here I am, baby, your knight in shining armour.” 
You whimper. The pain in your back is dull enough that you can bear it. It’s his needling that’s driving you up the wall. You need him to stop. You need everything to stop. You need one day when you’re not a plaything, not a wife, not a mom. 
“Keep sneering at me but we both know you came yesterday and it had nothing to do with the pills,” he taunts smugly. “So let me fix you up and I’ll give you all the Os you can handle.” 
🗄️
“It’s not a fracture,” the doctor turns away from the black and white images. “But I’m sure it hurts. You definitely bruised the bone but from what I can tell, your muscles are tight. It’s adding pressure to the trauma point. Pinching on a nerve or two.” 
You nod. It’s a relief that you didn’t break anything it’s not entirely great news. Lloyd turns away from the skeletal diagram on the table. “So, she’s fine?” 
“She’s in a lot of pain, isn’t she?” The doctor says. “She needs to go home. Relax. Sleep, if you can.” 
“Anything I can do to help?” He offers. “I really can’t stand to see her like this, doc. It makes me feel so powerless.” 
He touches his chest dramatically and you make a face.  
“Gentle massage. Just tender. Nothing to intense. Don’t push on anything,” he explains. “Warm bath if you can bear it, ice too. You said you have a support cushion?” You nod. “If you have to sit up, use it.” 
“I can handle that,” Lloyd drawls. “I can be gentle.” 
He smirks at you as you send him a sharp look. His lashes flick and his irises flare. You could punch him in the face and you think it would only egg him on. 
“Doc,” Lloyd nears him, “thanks. I owe ya. I’ll have a bottle of scotch sent to the practice.” 
“Just doing my job but I don’t mind a good cask-aged bottle.” 
“Consider it on its way,” Lloyd assures him and turns to you. 
You thank the doctor and let Lloyd help you off the bed. You don’t have the strength or energy to resist. It’s just the same as the last professional prescribed. Rest. You think he might just have to listen to the experts and give you a break. 
“Alright, let’s get you home, baby,” he cooes as you pass through the waiting room. You catch the glance of a woman who watches with envy as her husband slumps with arms crossed and resists a midday nap. If only she knew the type of man Lloyd truly is. 
He reclines the seat in the car for you. You close your eyes. The pills make you tired, just like everything else. 
The smooth motion of the car lulls you. You startle as you find yourself still. Lloyd lifts you from the seat and you spasm. You whimper and he clucks. 
“There ya go, making it all worse again,” he chides. 
You grab onto his shoulder. You can’t help but think of how Pete let you fall. You fear another crash down to earth. 
“I work out, baby face, don’t fucking worry,” he assures you. 
You furrow your brow and look around. You’re not in your neighbourhood. You thought he was taking you home. Instead, you’re staring up at one of those overpriced modern builds. 
“It’s glorious, isn’t it? The high life.” 
You don’t answer him. There’s nothing you could say that could convince him you’re not covetous, because you are. You could’ve gone down this road. You could’ve skipped the dry marriage and the fussy kids. 
That thought scourges you with guilt. You love your children and once upon a time you loved your husband too. It can’t be a mistake if it made you happy once. Simone and Malik still do make you happy. Hopeful, even. 
He brings you through the front door and strides into the airy front room. The windows stretch from ceiling to floor and let in the day. He lays you on the spacious sectional, the cushions wide enough for two, and he drags a pillow over for you. 
You close your eyes, content to just be in one place. 
He tugs your shirt up and exposes your stomach. You tug it back down and your lashes snap open. He tilts his head at you. 
“Baby, I’m helping.” 
“Leave it,” you warn. 
“What’s the problem? I saw it all before.” 
You glare at him. The problem is it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to gawk at you. He doesn’t need to count the ways you can’t compare to Kendra and those other pretty interns. Just like the one your husband is fucking. 
“Leave that at the goddamn door,” he says as if he can read your mind. 
He yanks again and you relent. Whatever. You’re just something to be used. For Pete, you’re a dishwasher and a laundry machine. For Lloyd, you’re a piece of flesh and fodder for his twisted ego games. 
He undresses you with a tenderness so unlike him. His hands rove up and down your body with each piece he removes. When you’re completely exposed, you cover yourself futilely with your hands. He tweaks your nipple then toys with it. 
“Gotta turn you over,” he winks. “My favourite position.” 
“You can’t--” 
“Relax, I’m not gonna finish the job,” he taps your thigh. 
He helps you shift onto your side. You groan and grunt with the effort. You hug one of the cushions and lean onto it, your back to him. He flutters his fingers down your side and goosebumps rise over your skin. 
You shiver and he chuckles, “feels nice, huh? See, I can be a good boy.” 
You don’t reply. You close your eyes and cling to the strands of delight. That relief is so fleeting. He drags his fingers up and down and around your lower back. He sweeps around your hip and retraces the same path. Your muscles quiver but unwind. 
“That’s it,” he encourages you. 
You moan as the heat of his fingers seeps into you. It’s nice. You haven’t feel this placid in so long. Your head stirs and your limbs slacken. You forget the world and just let yourself be in that feeling. 
His hand creep along the back of your thigh then between your legs. He wiggles between them and you flinches. He pushes against your slit and rubs the side of his index against your clit. 
“Hansen,” you rasps. 
“Shhhh,” he hushes you. “Doctor’s orders. You need to relax.” 
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can-of-slorgs ¡ 10 months ago
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I'm personally blaming @starbiology and everyone who has reblogged or commented the other piece for this.
Bonus comic featuring my grundo:
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