#i can’t lie one of these books in what seems to be a six book series is a thousand pages and my eyes continuously bug out at the thought

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (part 3)

Part 1 // Part 2

After his work is done and Dream finds the time to retreat to his chambers, he pulls out Hob Gadling’s notebook and reads Hob's last journal entry in its entirety.

June 8th, 1989

Dearest stranger, my friend! 

I can't believe I am allowed to call you that! Let me tell you that I nearly fainted when I found your message in my notebook this morning. I've read the words you've written a hundred times by now and still I almost can't believe them to be real. I can’t believe I’m touching the pen you must have held, that I missed your presence in my room

As devastated as I was after you didn't come yesterday, as happy am I that you chose to contact me after at all.

I'm quite embarrassed about my drunken ramblings that you must have read. There's no lie in them, but I would try and put the truth into less desperate words if I could. I must seem like a fool, fixating on you like this, after all we've only met six times so far. Still, what I wrote, that you are my one constant in life, is nothing but the truth. Our meetings are fixed points in time that I measure this immortal life of mine by now. I try not to, but meeting with you has often felt like the start and finish of an era of Hob Gadling, despite it being probably more in the middle of several. Every centennial meeting with you was the most important appointment that I would plan and prepare for (as best as I could) for months, sometimes years. So if writing to you like this is the only way I get to speak to you then I will gladly take it, and thank you for it. 

But make no mistake, dear stranger - I would love to see you again and I hope you will be ready and willing to meet me in person again someday. Because

As we are sharing truths and have both admitted that we're lonely, I would like you to know that I have never been content with our schedule. If you're willing I would love to meet you a lot more frequently. A lot of things I'd like to tell you about are long forgotten again when we meet. I guess this book is a good way to share stories with you more often now, if a regular Friday night at the pub isn't your thing. I kept notebooks like this all my life, to be able to peruse them in preparation for our meetings and choose the best stories to tell you, because I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to share them all. We got cut short so often, I wonder how you appeared to know me so well without me telling you overly much. But then, that is what you do, isn’t it?

Like with Lushing Lou, you know everyone. And now you mentioned that you do not forget anyone. Do you truly know everything about me then? Is me telling you stories of my life more of an amusement than a necessity for you? Could you actually know it all with a glance instead of listening to me ramble for hours?

Please forgive me, my friend, I do not mean to sound offended. You wrote that you enjoy our meetings - and apparently my ramblings - and I know you would not lie to me.

You do enjoy stories, then. Is that it? Are you a collector of stories? Of histories? Or is your interest actually in my interpretation of these stories and events, in how a mere human experiences the things that are so easily visible to you? I remember the spark in your eyes when I told you about printing. I was such a dewy-eyed fool then, it almost makes me laugh to remember. Did you already know what Gutenberg’s machine would mean for the advancement of humanity? Did you see me finally shaking off my rough and bloody persona as a step in the right direction? Or were you simply interested, like you said, in my experience, and how I would change over the years?I admit, waiting for you to finally tell me who you are is hard for me. But I’ve waited this long and I will wait longer, and I won’t be offended if it takes you another hundred years to tell me. We have time, after all.

Much has happened in the last hundred years. Mostly war. Humans have reached new heights of cruelty. We have become even more ingenuous at killing ourselves. We have created weapons to wipe out all of humanity. We are one wrong phone call away from destroying all we’ve accomplished with the press of a button. People are overthrowing their regimes left and right and while that is generally a good thing, I am still looking over my shoulder, metaphorically, stashing money and valuables in uncanny places like a pirate of old, in preparation for what might yet turn into a true apocalypse.

It is stressful, and I admit that the new drugs are very tempting. I have not been able to resist trying most of them over the last two decades, either to be able to relax or to be able to feel something other than dread, to see some colours in all this grey.

I participated in both wars and it left me unable to sleep properly for decades. Not that sleep was anything to look forward to. If I tell you that I’ve not had a dream since before the first World War started you will surely think that I’m being silly. That I just don’t remember them. But let me tell you, about a week ago I had the first dream since, I think it must have been 1916 or 17. It wasn’t anything magical or special, (just something very simple, about lying in the grass on a hill, looking at the sky and watching bright blue birds fly overhead) but when I woke up I cried because I felt such a profound relief! Relief that I could dream again! 

I did dream of something strange soon after, though.I dreamed of a skeletal little man, mad and raving, chasing someone that looked like a weird bird man - and here I want to make clear that I do not intend to insult you, dear friend!, but this man that looked like a bird and at the same time was neither, he reminded me of you. I can’t really put my finger on it. Just something in the way he moved, maybe, or the tilt of his head-

Anyway, it was a strange dream, and I felt reminded of you, which is why I am mentioning it, I guess. I’m sorry for rambling about silly dreams. But their return (for I am certain dreams returned, I did not simply start remembering them again) has made me hopeful again.

Maybe times are a-changin’, who knows. They always are, and hopefully for the better this time.

I could tell you a lot more of the last century, of course, but I don’t know if you care to hear war stories. I do not necessarily want to drag all those unpleasant memories up, as it took me years of therapy to get over a lot of them, if you can forgive me for summing things up like I did.

I will think of better and brighter things to tell you and write to you again soon. I would be very happy if I found a reply from you in the meantime, but please use this book at your own leisure and don’t feel pressured to answer me every time I start rambling at you.

I hope to

Yours, Hob

Yours. Dream swallows and reads the word again, traces it with his finger. Yours.

Hob considers himself Dream’s. He knows it’s just an expression used when writing letters, but somehow Dream also knows that Hob means it to be more than just an empty phrase.

His.

Dream does not know if he wants Hob to consider himself Dream’s. Dream would not trust himself with another, not before and certainly not after his ordeal. Where before his imprisonment he had felt too sharp, too lonely, too easily enraged, he now feels brittle, too thin and too vulnerable. He cannot hold another’s heart and keep it safe. He cannot be trusted with the affections of another. He has learned that, over the last billion years. Every relationship he has ever had has ultimately failed. Because of him.

He does not want Hob’s and his relationship to fail. He intends to fix this friendship that he knows he does not deserve but cannot stop himself from clinging to. Few are truly loyal to him, Dream has learned, even fewer because they want to. Hob is singular in that regard, in his enthusiasm and friendliness when it comes to Dream, despite, or rather because he does not know him. And there Dream’s thoughts circle back to his predicament again.

He wants Hob to know him and like him, but Dream is terrified that introducing himself to Hob will leave their barely-mended friendship ready to break completely.

With a heavy sigh he stops moving, realising that he has been walking in circles in his chamber while his thoughts do the same.

Maybe it will be better to simply start writing.

#telling myself that last bit all the time #just sit down and write and some words will come #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #1989 au #teejay writes

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Chapter Six

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Chapter Five: Against the Jackal

Summary: (Y/N) and Marc arrive in Cairo and begin their search for Harrow.

            (Y/N) was exhausted from traveling, but they had finally arrived in Cairo. They knew that as soon as possible they’d need to start investigating where Ammit’s tomb may be, but they just wanted to fall asleep for a hundred years. Having never been in such a physical fight, (Y/N) really needed to rest, but on the plane ride over, they had forced themself to stay awake in case any of Harrow’s people appeared to attack them.

            “(Y/N)?”

            The teen turned from where they were waiting on a cab to see Marc. “Oh. Hi.”

            “Are you going to a hotel on your own?” asked Marc.

            “Yes,” said (Y/N).

            Marc furrowed his brow and made a quick decision. “Follow me.”

            “…Are you sure?” asked (Y/N).

            “Come on, kid,” said Marc.

            (Y/N) hesitated. Marc was intimidating, and after they’d seen what he’d done to those archaeologists, (Y/N) wasn’t sure how close to him they should get. But at the same time, he’d protected them from the jackal. He’d wanted them to be left out of Harrow’s danger.

            (Y/N) gave a short nod. They’d take a leap and trust him. A little.

l

            “This is where I’m staying,” said Marc. “I’ve been here before. We’ll be safe enough.”

            “It’s nice,” said (Y/N).

            Marc gave a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, right.”

            “It is. I stay at the cheapest places possible,” said (Y/N).

            “That’s not safe,” said Marc.

            “I’m alive,” said (Y/N).

            Marc frowned. “That’s a terrible measure.”

            “It is?”

            Marc sighed. He had thought his position as an Avatar had caused him issues, and now this kid came along just as lost. “Yeah, kid. It is.” He picked up the phone. “I’m ordering food. What do you want?”

            (Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t know.”

            “Seriously, kid, just tell me,” said Marc.

            “I was being serious,” said (Y/N) quietly.

            “No one’s ever serious about that. They just lie to not seem pushy.” And if Marc knew one thing, that kid looked like someone to keep their problems to themself because gods weren’t exactly the most sympathetic.

            “I’m not lying.”

            Marc sighed. “Kid, I’m really too tired for this.”

            “I can’t lie!” said (Y/N) quickly, pushing out the words.

            They looked down and shifted awkwardly. They hadn’t told anyone that after their parents died. Only Ma’at knew, and it had brought Ma’at to them.

            You…what?” said Marc.

            “I can’t lie,” repeated (Y/N). “I just can’t.”

            “Does Ma’at not allow you to?” It is definitely the sort of thing one of these shit gods would have their Avatar do.

            “No, I never could, even before Ma’at,” said (Y/N). “I can’t tell a lie.”

            “That’s…unhelpful as a thief,” said Marc, brow creasing. It was yet another example of Ma’at putting a child—already an issue—into further danger because they wouldn’t be able to get themself out of trouble.

            “It’s not all bad,” said (Y/N), shrugging and rubbing their arm. “I can tell when someone’s lying or telling the truth. That’s helpful.”

            Marc sighed and backed off. He wasn’t going to press (Y/N), not when they were so clearly uncomfortable. He knew all-too-well how damaging the stress adults could inflict on kids.

            “Alright. So you don’t care what we eat?” said Marc, going to a safer subject.

            (Y/N) shook their head. “I’ll eat anything. I just want to eat and sleep.”

            “We can agree on that,” said Marc. He wasn’t sure how to approach working with or even dealing with the teen, but he knew they both needed rest before they stopped Harrow.

            Whatever it took.

l

            (Y/N) and Marc ran across the roofs of Cairo, anxious to reach the one follower of Harrow that was ready to give up where he was. Unfortunately, the moment they pulled themselves onto the roof, two other men were stabbing him, and a third was keeping watch.

            “Oh, shit. You killed him?” said Marc. “We needed to talk to that guy. About a dig site. Guess we’re gonna have to talk with you instead.”

            “You’re two late,” said one man. “You’re never gonna find Harrow.”

            “Really? Kid, what do you think the truth of that statement is?” asked Marc.

            (Y/N) shrugged. “It’s opinion, but I think we’ll find him.”

            The man took out his knife and flipped it around, showing off his skills.

            Marc watched him and moved between him and (Y/N). “Oh. What, are we dancin’? We fightin’? What are we gonna do?”

            The first man leapt to the side, and the second attacked Marc. He blocked them and threw them into the wall while kicking another back. The third, a teenager, ran up to attack (Y/N), and they jumped back, dodging his knife attacks. Marc grabbed him and forced him to his knees. He raised his fist to punch the younger boy, but when he flinched, Marc relaxed and just struck him with his palm.

            (Y/N) blinked as they saw it. Something about it made them feel…safer around Marc. They’d seen what he was capable of, and to know that he knew when to held back meant (Y/N) could feel alright near him. (Which was strange in itself since (Y/N) never had an adult to trust after their parents)

            Another man came at them with his knife, and (Y/N) dodged, scrambling onto another section of the roof. The man slashed at them, but (Y/N) kicked him back into Marc’s waiting arms to disarm him.

            The teenage boy grabbed the knife as it fell to the ground and spat at Marc in Arabic, “in your face, foreigners!”

            He threw the knife at Marc’s face, and it barely missed. By this point, the first man had gotten back up, too, and it was three versus two again. The first licked his knife dramatically. Marc punched him before he could try anything. As he slumped backwards, the second man grabbed Marc and pulled him away. (Y/N) leapt onto his back and struck his head over-and-over until he let go and fell to the ground. (Y/N) stood between the teenage boy and Marc, panting but refusing to give up. Marc had helped them, and they weren’t going to let that go unrepaid.

            The teenager attacked (Y/N), and they blocked, hissing as the blade cut through the outside of their forearm. Still, they didn’t let up and kicked the boy back. Marc quickly got up and tripped him, effectively taking him down without causing much harm.

            The second man stabbed at (Y/N), and they rolled to the side to dodge, but he advanced again. Marc grabbed him and fought him back, pinning him to a wall and pushing his knife against his throat.

            “Marc. Stop it,” said Steven softly, afraid, from the reflection of the knife.

            Marc paused, and (Y/N) watched, glancing between him, the teenager, and the man he had trapped.

            “Marc?” asked (Y/N).

            Marc slammed the man’s head against the wall. “Where’s Harrow?” he hissed. He slammed his head against the stone again to make a bone.

            (Y/N) frowned and took a step back. Not Marc? The accent was all wrong, but (Y/N) wasn’t sure what to do. This felt stranger than Steven and Marc.

            “I-I don’t—” the man coughed, his airway constricted. “I-I won’t—”

            Not(?) Marc smashed his head against the stone and let him slump to the ground. “Inútil.”

            Useless, translated (Y/N)’s mind.

            Not(?) Marc tossed the man to the side and turned away. Without another word, he turned away and walked towards the exit of the roof. He passed (Y/N), paused, and grabbed their wrist, pulling them with him.

            (Y/N) had a feeling they shouldn’t fight Not(?) Marc and let themself be pulled down and out onto the street where Not(?) Marc called a cab. He looked around surreptitiously before pushing (Y/N) in first. Then, he slipped in.

            “Marc? What’s going on?” asked (Y/N) hesitantly, shifting away from the man beside them slightly.

            “Airport,” he said to the cab driver.

            “Marc?”

            Not(?) Marc groaned, and his eyes rolled back before settling. He looked around in confusion.

            “What…?” he trailed off as he saw they were in a cab. “Stop, please!” he said in Arabic to the driver.

            “You’re speaking Arabic, eh?” said the driver. “Why are you acting like a foreigner?”

            Marc looked at (Y/N). “Where were we going?”

            “You said the airport,” said (Y/N) cautiously.

            “I—no, I didn’t, I couldn’t…” He paused as he saw the teenage boy and man he’d fought exiting a nearby building. He opened the door of the cab and got out to speak to them. “Let me talk to you.”

            The two stepped back nervously.

            “Just let us go, man,” said the teenager.

            “That wasn’t me!” cried Marc.

            The teenager and the man made a run for it, and Marc took off after them.

            “My money!” shouted the driver.

            (Y/N) pulled out a couple bills, paid, and ran after Marc.

            They ended up in a marketplace, and the four continued their game of cat-and-mouse through the people and stalls, heedless of any obstacles in their way. Finally, Marc got his hands on the man and threw him to the ground to slow him down. He grabbed his coat and pushed him against the wall.

            He punched him in the stomach, and (Y/N) frowned as they saw it. They had seen terrible things in their life, but they were still getting used to it. They still disliked violence fundamentally, but they knew that when it came to Ammit, it was going to be unavoidable.

            “Where’s Harrow?” questioned Marc. “Where’s Harrow? Tell me!”

            “Marc,” said (Y/N), and Marc paused. “He’s not going to tell you. We already know that��Ah!”

            The first man from the fight on the roof appeared and struck them in the back of the head. (Y/N) stumbled forward, and Marc was distracted long enough to get hit by the man he had pinned, and he fell backwards.

            “Marc!”

            Marc’s unconscious body suddenly awoke, eyes bright and awake. In an instant, he was upon the men, attacking with reckless abandon. It was far more intense than anything else (Y/N) had seen yet. This was once again not Marc. This was violent, and it scared (Y/N). They took a step back, and the moment Not Marc sunk the man’s knife into his own side, (Y/N) made their decision.

            They couldn’t watch this violence.

            (Y/N) turned and ran. They ran until they felt safe, until it was quiet, until they had found an alley to curl up in and control their breathing.

            I can do this. I can do this. I can handle this, thought (Y/N), tapping their fingers rhythmically.

            “What are you doing?”

            (Y/N) looked up to find Ma’at standing over them. “I-I can’t do the killing. I can’t.”

            “It is your job to see the ugliness of the world so that others may be protected,” said Ma’at.

            (Y/N) flinched. “I know. I just-I couldn’t.”

            “You will have to learn to handle this,” said Ma’at. “Ammit will not hesitate to kill, and neither will Harrow. You must be prepared.”

            “I-I will be. I won’t run away again. I promise,” said (Y/N).

            “Good.”

            (Y/N) knew Ma’at was gone after she spoke, but the deity’s disappointment in her Avatar remained a burden on (Y/N)’s shoulders whether she was there or not.

l

            Marc looked around in confusion as the man’s body he had stabbed fell to the ground. He had blood on him, and he stood on a cliff overlooking Cairo. It was just him and the men he was fighting. Well, not anymore. The two men were both dead, killing by their own weapon by…Marc?

            He shook his head. “What…? Oh, god. Steven, what did you do?”

            Steven glared out from the blade. “I swear, that wasn’t me!”

            “Then who was it?” said Marc. His eyes widened. “And where’s the kid?” (Y/N) was nowhere to be seen, and an unexpected amount of fear flashed through him.

            “I don’t know,” said Steven, shaking his head.

            Before Marc could reply, the teenage boy from before moved, still alive. His leg was broken, though, and he could only drag himself back.

            Marc swallowed. “Where’s the kid I was with?”

            “Ask him about the tomb,” said Khonshu’s voice, and Marc straightened. “Take him to the ledge.”

            “He’s just a kid,” said Marc.

            “He’ll talk,” said Khonshu.

            Marc obeyed and picked up the teenager, holding him up near the ledge, careful not to let him drop. Marc had never been one to harm kids, but all of a sudden, the boy’s face because (Y/N)’s for a sickening moment, and Marc held onto his scarf all the tighter.

            “Where is Harrow?” he demanded, wanting this to be over with quickly.

            The boy looked down and back at Marc. “Praise Ammit.”

            “No, kid—”

            The boy cut his scarf with his knife before Marc could do anything, and he plummeted to his death. Marc’s eyes widened in horror.

            “Mm.” Khonshu barely reacted. “I thought he’d talk.”

            Marc nearly snapped and asked whether or not (Y/N) would think that was a lie. He swallowed his anger, though, and directed it on Steven—and himself.

            “What the hell’s wrong with you, Steven?” he questioned.

            “Me?” Steven’s reflection shone out of the side mirror of a car. “You’re the one going on a killing spree and scaring (Y/N)!”

            “I didn’t do any of this,” snapped Marc.

            “Me neither. Listen, if you’ve got a problem with the high body count, I suggest you stop listening to that bloody pigeon,” retorted Steven.

            “Stay out of my way,” said Marc, turning away. He cleared his throat. “Well, if we can’t find Harrow’s digging crew, we’re gonna have to stop ‘em another way.” He looked around. “I need to find (Y/N) first, though.”

            “Ma’at has an eye on them. You have no need to concern yourself,” said Khonshu dismissively.

            “Oh, yeah, because the gods seem so kind and worried,” muttered Steven in the reflection, and Marc was inclined to agree.

            He looked at Khonshu. “What about the other gods?” he asked. “Are they just going to stand by and allow somebody to unleash Ammit?”

            “To signal for an audience with the gods is to risk their wrath,” said Khonshu.

            “Why? What’s the worst that could happen?” asked Marc.

            “Anger them enough, and they’ll imprison Ma’at and me in stone,” said Khonshu.

            Marc tsked. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

            “See how you fare against Harrow without the protection of my healing armor or Ma’at’s strength,” said Khonshu.

            Marc threw up his hands. “Alright. So what? Do you have any good ideas? If not, I’m going to find (Y/N), Ma’at’s ‘concern’ be damned.” He turned away.

            “I have a bad idea.” Khonshu disappeared.

            “Khonshu?” Even for the bird, that was unusual. Marc looked around, and his eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

            A dark shadow was crossing over the sun, blocking out its light in a sudden eclipse.

            “Sending the gods a message they can’t ignore.”

l

            (Y/N) felt the shadows rush over them before they saw the eclipse. They looked up in awe as the sun was blocked out.

            “Ma’at?” they asked. “What’s going on?”

            “Khonshu is risking the wrath of the gods,” said Ma’at. “There is to be a meeting of the Ennead.”

            “Can’t they help with Ammit and Harrow?”

            “They could. Or…” Ma’at’s eyes narrowed. “They could imprison Khonshu and I in stone.”

            “Have you two done something wrong?”

            “According to their nonsensical rules.”

            (Y/N) frowned. Ma’at never avoided speaking matter-of-factly, so to avoid speaking truthfully and twisting her words meant something significant. Still, there wasn’t much (Y/N) could do, and as a doorway opened beside them, (Y/N) knew that they had bigger problems at hand.

            (Y/N) stood, squared their shoulders, and stepped through the door.

            It was time to face the gods.

Taglist:

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@slytherinroyalty16

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#burden of truth #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #x teen!reader #x teen reader #found family #teen reader #teen!reader #father figure #found family trope #platonic moonknight #moonknight x reader #moonknight x teen!reader #moonknight x teen reader #platonic #platonic x reader #platonic moon knight #moon knight x teen reader #moon knight x teen!reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight #moonknight #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x teen reader #marc spector x teen!reader #platonic marc spector

[wrenreid]

Off Limits

contains: sexual intercourse

Part Twenty-Six

Being left in bed naked and alone was not exactly how I pictured my first time to end, but I know it wasn’t personal. He left because he had to. Because my father might take his glock out and act irrationally if he sees his favorite agent with his only daughter. I’m not saying he’d actually shoot Spencer, but he might scare the piss out of him.

My father gets home just as I slip back into bed dressed in pjs. He doesn’t say goodnight because it’s late, and I’m sure he assumes I’m asleep.

I would be asleep. Should be. But I can’t even think to rest my eyes. I’m not one to think that first kisses and first times are that big of deal. It’s not like having sex is a life altering event. And I most definitely do not feel like a whole new person.

Books and movies make it seem like a huge deal. But it’s really not. However, I do think this will change our relationship a bit. Hopefully bring us closer. Honestly, I’m really not sure what will change between us.

I do know one thing. I’m officially his girlfriend. He’s officially my boyfriend. We’re official. Which feels good. After years of crushing on him and months of sneaking around and having fun with him, we’re finally together.

I know I said fuck it if she’s off limits, but goddamn do I feel guilty. I hate feeling guilty. I’m sick of it actually. No one should feel guilty about dating anyone. But I can’t help it. It’s wired into my subconscious.

Jade is finally my girlfriend. We had a great night together. I should be happy. Well, I am happy but I’m also feeling guilty and a little dumb.

Of course I didn’t have sex with her just to spite her father, but he did have something to do with it. They all did. They pushed me a little too far and I finally caved in to what I’ve been resisting. But I wanted it, I’ve wanted it for a while, so it’s not like their teasing was my only reason for sleeping with her.

Just as I’m about to text her the next morning, I get a call from Hotch saying we need to go to Quantico for another case. I was hoping to see Jade today since we didn’t get to talk after we had sex. But I guess that’s out the window. I grab my pre-packed go bag after getting dressed then head to work.

(skipping time because goddamn i am bored with this story… sorry)

The sneaking around that once stressed the hell out of me has kind of become fun. I mean there’s a type of thrill that comes with dating your boss’s “off limits” daughter.

Jade and I have had a fun few weeks. We’ve connected more, spent as much time together as we can, and have honestly had a lot of sex.

We’re both still getting used to our new relationship, but we’re in it together.

I spend the night with Spencer as often as I can without my dad getting suspicious. He thinks I’m either with a friend, at a party, or whatever other minuscule lie I tell him.

The lying and sneaking around is fun. I’m finally getting the experience I never had in high school. I would obviously love if I could date Spencer and not have to lie about it, but the secrecy of it all is thrilling.

It makes the sex just hotter.

After having sex on the couch, then moving it to his bedroom for more space, Spencer and I lay on the mattress together. Our hands intertwine, fiddling with our fingers.

“Want to know something a little ironic?” I ask him as his thumb rubs across the back of my hand.

Spencer shifts a bit to face me. “What’s that?”

“In 7th grade health class, us girls were all given purity rings, misogynistic, I know. I think I still have mine.”

“Give it to me.” As he says this, something in his face changes.

“What?” I question, a slight chuckle releasing from my lips.

“It’s technically mine now. It only seems accurate and fair for me to have it.”

I laugh a little once again, my cheeks burning pinker than they ever have. He’s dead serious. Something about the look in his dark eyes makes me want to go for round two right now.

I think he has the same idea. Spencer leans in, his lips kissing mine. I kiss him back immediately, my tongue sliding in his mouth. As we kiss, his hand slides down my body and he slips a finger between my folds to touch my already sensitive clit.

“You’re still wet,” he says. “Good girl.”

I moan into his mouth, moving my hips back and forth as I ride his fingers. His lips find their place on his neck and tits, sucking on the places he’s already left his mark on. It stings a little, but the pain feels good.

“God, Spencer,” I whine as he sinks his teeth into my flesh, not enough to damage my skin but enough to hurt a bit.

I beg him to touch me harder and faster, and he obliges, fingering me as I moan into his ears.

After a minute, I’m so needy that I take matters into my own hands. I sit up then place myself onto his lap, guiding his dick inside me with my hand. I roll my hips back and forth, watching his face as I ride him.

“Holy fuck,” he whines. “You’re so hot, baby.”

The way his length hits inside me as I bounce on him has me louder than I’ve ever been. He lifts one of his hands up to quiet me so his neighbors don’t hear. I personally, don’t care if they hear us. I want them to know how good he feels and wish they could feel this way.

He releases his hand after a while, holding my hips and occasionally slapping my ass while I ride him. He bucks his hips upward to meet mine, making his dick hit inside me harder.

“Fuck,” I moan, dragging out the word.

He’s moaning louder than usual too. My hands that were scratching down his chest land on his throat, choking him.

“Is this okay?” I ask.

He’s done it to me before but I haven’t done it to him while we’ve fucked.

“Very,” he nods.

As I finish, I bite into his shoulder, quieting my moan of his name. He finishes not long after me.

The next morning, Jade comes into the bullpen, she’s walking toward me. everyone’s looking. My face is red already, and she hasn’t done anything. I have no idea what she’s doing.

“My dad told me to give this to you,” she says, handing me an envelope. She smiles sweetly then turns toward the elevators.

She was bringing her father lunch and was in his office for a bit, eating with him as he worked.

I let out a soft, relieved breath. I open the letter. There’s a paper, and written on it in neat handwriting is “I think this belongs to you.” Taped to the paper is a small, silver ring with the word “promise” on it. I’m definitely blushing hard and trying to suppress a smile.

“You getting fired, reid?” Morgan teases.

“Totally,” I joke casually, my mind far away from Morgan’s question.

I slip the ring in my pocket before folding up the note and safely putting it away in my desk.

I think that little word engraved on the inside of the ring has a new meaning now.

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @jazzerbelle14 @kylakins88 @f-me-reid @lovejules888 @marimorena06 @daph-421 @idkusername8787

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #mgg x you #spencer reid smut #mgg angst #mgg fic #spencer reid and reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #mgg #dilf spencerreid #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x reader

[maybankswhore]

no body , no crime ’ tyler galpin

pairings: tyler galpin x reader

summary: after noticing tyler’s abnormal behavior , you start piecing things together. and at your breaking point , you confront tyler about the things you’re beginning to assume & feel.

warnings: cursing , gaslighting , betrayal , heartbreak , sadness , shitty writing.

“ i think he did it & i just can’t prove it. ”

You tried really hard to ignore that feeling in your stomach.

You really , really did.

But you knew Tyler better than anyone else. Better than his dad , better than Wednesday Addams could ever , and even better than himself.

It was a slow transition. It didn’t happen all at once. It took you awhile to remember back to when it first started. . . Before Wednesday even arrived , or before the two had even met.

One day he had came into the Weathervane so happy. His entire mood was energetic and bouncy. His eyes were wide and pupils were dilated. You swore up and down that he was high or something. And when you asked , he gave some vague answer about just being happy and he kissed your cheek , and then you never talked about it again.

He started staying out later. Gradually as the weeks went by and the seasons changed , you saw less and less of Tyler once evening came.

Unless he was working a late shift at the coffee shop , the latest you saw him was six in the afternoon and if you were lucky , seven thirty.

You tried ignoring it at first. You told yourself you were being silly and he was probably just really busy , or depressed and wasn’t ready to talk about it. You tried every excuse in the book to ignore the feeling you got every time you were next to him.

Then he started getting more tired of you. He snapped at you more and his eyes were forever changed to a dark brown compared the shimmering light hazel look they held when he was in the sun. Sometimes the bags under his eyes were so bad , you’d be worried sick something was really wrong.

Once Wednesday waltzed herself into Tyler’s life , his attention was immediately on her. It struck your heart , truly , seeing as though he seemed to really enjoy his time around her. More than he was having with you in the last six months.

The disappearance of Rowan was the last straw from you. All of the sneaking around , the whispers from Xavier and Wednesday talking about like nobody else around them could hear. . . but you did.

You had researched as much as you could. Coming into a couple dead ends until the night Wednesday was attacked by Rowan— and Tyler was nowhere to be seen.

You waited to confront him until it was the right time. The waiting nearly killed you. Sick to your stomach , wondering what to say and how to go about it. It was Tyler. Out of all people it was Tyler , and you could never see someone as kind and patient as him potentially be something so evil.

But you needed to find out the truth.

Finally you had your chance when he picked you up in Jericho after you called , demanding that you two spoke. He tried making up an excuse to get out of it , like he had been doing for months. But you didn’t let up.

“So what couldn’t wait.” Tyler sighed as he parked the car in a vacant parking lot , turning down the AC so he could hear you better.

You slid yourself towards the passenger door , swallowing the nerve’s threatening to come up as you avoided looking at him. “You’ve been lying to me.” You muttered , recounting every lie he had told , each time and each different excuse.

Tyler scoffed. “About what?” He shook his head and watched you carefully , noticing the unusual distance you were keeping.

“You know you have.” You pushed. You focused on your own hands , playing with them to ease your nerves. “I–I’ve been wondering what’s going on with you. Why you haven’t been here. . .” your bottom lip trembled as you were finally able to speak about your feelings , feel closure behind everything you’ve been thinking in your head. You weren’t crazy.

“Baby–”

“No.” You cut him off sternly , finally picking your head back up to look him in the eye. “Tell me the truth , Tyler. Was it you that hurt Rowan? Made him disappear?” You accused. You remembered Wednesday’s mumbling about to her floating hand ‘thing’– as she called him. Your lurking and eavesdropping was not for nothing— and you were putting the pieces together.

It couldn’t have been Xavier. Not when Tyler disappeared exactly when things conspired.

“W–What?” Tyler’s eyes grew wide at your big accusation. Sweat began to form at the back of his neck , scoffing dismissively. “You can’t be seriously asking me that.”

“I am.” You defended yourself , crossing your arms. “I don’t know what it is you’re doing , Tyler but I know there’s something you’re not telling me.” Your breath was shaky as you paused to collect yourself. “And if you aren’t telling me about me , then I know it can’t be anything good because you– you’ve always been honest with me. You’ve always told me everything.” Feeling yourself getting worked up , you sat up and turned your head away from him.

Tyler looked like a deer in headlights. You couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen this coming— that his actions hadn’t mattered to you or something. Like you hadn’t cared enough to notice something was different.

“Is it some prank you’re pulling with your normie friends?” You filled his silence with more accusations. “Or is it something even worse , Tyler? Something that’s gonna get people hurt— you hurt?”

“How could you ask me something like that?” Tyler gaped at you. His face full of hurt. “I told you I slipped off to use the bathroom—” he shook his head. “Y/N you’re my girlfriend.” He looked at you square in the eye , searching your face and scanning your expression. “You know me.”

You shook your head almost laughing. “Do I? I’ve barely even seen you these past few weeks. You’re always out , doing something with Wednesday then going to therapy and going God knows where every night when you tell me you have things to do and never elaborate what those things are! You don’t speak to me half the time , or look at me. When we are together you’re somewhere else , counting down the seconds until you’re finally rid of me.”

“That’s not true.” Tyler scratched his head anxiously , shaking his head quickly. “It’s not. I’m sorry , okay? I’m sorry I’ve been distant I’ve just—” he tried coming up with something quick , sensing your disconnection. He didn’t like it and he didn’t like the situation he was in.

He loved you. He really did. He hadn’t meant for everything to get screwed up. You were never supposed to be apart of anything.

“We can get better.” Tyler reasoned. He reached over the center console to find your hand that had been fisting the material of your clothes for comfort. You sighed at the contact , eye’s fluttering closed.

“That doesn’t explain what’s going on.” You said lowly. You should’ve took your hand away , but you couldn’t. You liked the feeling too much. You missed him way too much. “Something bad is going on , Tyler. I know there is. What aren’t you telling me?” Finally getting the courage to meet his eyes , your eyes locked together and you could feel your shoulders start to relax and your body crave to get closer to his. The sadness in his eyes , glazing over with anxiety and hesitation. You hated seeing him like this. “Please. . .” you whispered , reaching up to cup his cheek. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Tyler’s eyes began to tear up as you touched him. He didn’t realize how far apart the two of you had been. He melted into your palm , fluttering his eyes closed at the touch. “I wish I could.”

“You can.” You pushed. “Whatever it is , we can get through it together.”

“I just. . .” Tyler sighed. “I just need you to not give up on me.” He avoided your question easily , pleading with his eyes to get you to drop it.

Your stomach fell at his words and you knew.

“I can feel my heart breaking.” You whispered to him. “Because I’m scared.”

Tyler frowned and grabbed your chin softly. “Hey , don’t say that. You shouldn’t be scared of anything.”

“I’m scared about how much it’s gonna hurt when I find out what’s going on with you Tyler.” You admitted shamefully , bottom lip trembling. “Because I know you , more than anyone and something isn’t right.”

You had no proof. You had nothing but assumptions that you had pieced together. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you were thinking. Maybe you were being overdramatic and let Wednesday’s detective act was getting to you.

You wanted to believe him but you couldn’t.

Whatever he was doing , you couldn’t prove it. And without proof , you had nothing.

But you were going to find out.

#Spotify #wednesday #taylor swift #tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin angst #tyler galpin imagine

[jjungkookislife]

Baby Kicks Pt. 2

pairing: husband!jungkook x pregnant wife!reader

genre: expecting parents au, fluff, 18+

summary: Jungkook busies himself with laundry.

wc: 817

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, apprehensiveness/anxiety about being a first-time parent

date: April 15, 2023

Jungkook keeps his music low, humming along as he fixes the mood lamp on the coffee table. All day he’s busied himself with laundry, washing your clothing, his, and everything for his son.

Piles and piles of folded clothing sit all around him. Multiple trips to his son’s bedroom to put everything away by size and color have occupied most of his night. He’d taken extra care with the denim jacket he’d bought recently, one that matched his own. You’d giggled when he’d shown you a black leather jacket similar to his, informing him that Mini-Me would outgrow it faster than he thought. Jungkook simply smiled, pulling out six more identical jackets in various sizes. 

You had gone to bed hours ago, but Jungkook could hear you rolling from side to side, grunting as you tried to get comfortable. Blackjack had peeped his head over his bed, looking toward the bedroom before staring at Jungkook with those dark, brooding eyes. Jungkook swears Blackjack still has it out for him after the couch incident.

Jungkook had helped you pack your hospital bag earlier, deciding to wash everything in your home just in case your baby arrived sooner than expected. You were so close to your due date, more than ready to meet your son and hopefully be able to lie down comfortably as well.

At the moment, Jungkook had a pile of his Calvin Klein boxers in his laundry basket. All brand new, but all washed before he wore them. You never know what clothing has been through before wearing it right off the rack or right out of a package. Besides, he liked his clothing smelling good, and he enjoyed doing laundry, so it wasn’t a big deal for him. In fact, the reason he was washing his new underwear was that his had mysteriously disappeared or had popped back up with tiny holes that matched Blackjack’s little teeth. You say it’s all circumstantial evidence, but Blackjack seems to yap every time Jungkook takes his underwear out of the laundry basket. Suspicious.

After folding his underwear and socks, he places everything back into the basket to carry to your bedroom. He’s quiet as he puts it away, the room illuminated by the glow of the lamp on the nightstand. He does his best to hurry, but as he shuts the last drawer, you’re calling his name.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks as he sets the basket aside and jogs to your side, his eyes immediately scoping out any signs of distress.

“I can’t sleep,” you groan as you sit up, pillows supporting your back. “He won’t stop moving.”

Jungkook smiles softly. His hand rests on your rounded belly as he coos. “Go to sleep, Mini-Me.”

You laugh when there’s a kick in response. Probably wasn’t the best idea to call Jungkook over, but you’re tired and hopeful he’ll be able to settle your son. Jungkook is not one to give up easily. He climbs into bed beside you, scooting close to your stomach as he talks to your child. His hand rubs gentle circles into your skin, singing softly when he notes your eyes close and your breathing evens out.

“I can’t wait to meet you, little one. You’re going to be so cute,” Jungkook whispers, his hair falling over his eyes as he kisses your stomach. Smiling, Jungkook carefully settles into his side of the bed. He’s been apprehensive about his son’s arrival. He’s never held a baby before. He worries he’ll drop his son or perhaps his son won’t like him, and he’ll cry any time he holds him.

Jungkook read several books, took notes, and even practiced installing the car seat and taking it out just to do it again. He wants to be the perfect dad and wants Mini-Me to be so loved and never want for anything.

Some nights, his thoughts keep him awake until the birds are chirping and the sun is rising, streaming through the cracks in the curtains. You always assure him, kiss him until his worries turn minuscule, and as the days fly by and the due date hangs over his head, the nervousness grows. He knows you’ll be amazing. How could you not be? 

“Jungkook,” your soft voice startles him as your hand reaches for his. 

“Yes?” he asks in response, his tongue feeling like lead.

“Are you okay?” you ask gently, knowing that his thoughts are probably running rampant with worry. 

“I will be,” Jungkook answers honestly as he scoots closer to you. 

“He’ll love you, Koo. There’s no way he won’t,” you grin. “He kicks every time he hears your voice. More so when you sing to him.”

Jungkook feels reassured, nodding as he blinks the tears from his eyes.

“Come on,” you encourage Jungkook. “Let’s get some sleep before Mini-Me gets here. We’ll need it.”

“Goodnight, baby,” Jungkook kisses your cheek. “Goodnight, Mini-Me. Sleep tight.”

<< previous // next >>

thank you for reading! ♡ if you liked it, please let me know! 💌

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

#bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #btshoneyhive #clubzerooclock #jungkook fluff #jungkook fake texts #jungkook x reader insert #jungkook x you #jungkook drabble #dad!jungkook

[contentloadingandstuff]

hello, could you do a shenhe and ganyu injury fluff or family fluff? (you can choose whichever one you think would be easier to write or more fun) ^^

Injury fluff with Shenhe and Ganyu

A/N: Hello, anon! I hope you like this one. The fluff turned into hurt/comfort with Ganyu, as she's just too precious for this world ^^. Enjoy!

CW: Male!Reader, Shenhe may be a bit OOC.

Shenhe

You peek out from behind the corner. Your girlfriend, Shenhe, rests on the living room couch. Her eyes are glued to the book she’s reading. A perfect opportunity. 

Ever so carefully, you place quiet steps on the wooden floor. You manage to stealth your way to the kitchen. With a sigh of relief, you relax your legs. Only the sting of your slashed arm reminds you of what you have to do. 

You slowly open the cupboard, hoping to find the familiar blue package full of bandages and gauzes. Yet as you scan the contents of the furniture you can’t seem to get a visual match. You get on your tip-toes to see over the largest boxes of various medicines. Your search ends up bearing no discoveries, so you lower yourself to the floor. 

You gasp, startled, as your healthy shoulder touches Shenhe’s cleavage. 

“S-shenhe?” You ask shakily, turning to face her. She looks unamused.

“And why exactly did you want to stay quiet, my love?”

You smile awkwardly, and start scratching the back of your head. 

“I… well, it’s kind of silly.”

“Go on. “ She crosses her arms on her chest. 

“I got a little wounded on my previous commission, nothing much. I didn’t want to worry you.”

Upon hearing the word ‘injury’, Shenhe quickly steps closer. She begins bombarding you with questions. 

“Where? How deep? Who did this to you?” She moves your shirt aside to check for any serious damage. You manage to gently stop her with your hands. 

“That’s precisely why I wanted to keep this a secret, Shenhe. No, it’s not serious. It does hurt, though. “ You suddenly remember what you came here for. “Shenhe, have you seen the bandages?”

“I won’t tell you where they are unless you answer my questions.”

You know what’s coming. 

“Where are the people who did this?” She asks, and you sigh. 

“They got payback. They won’t trouble me any further, Shenhe. You can relax.”

“Are you certain of that?” Her winter eyes scan yours for any signs of a lie. 

“Shenhe, listen. Those were Hilichurls - they just surprised me, that's all.”

“Where are they, Y/N?” She doesn’t back down. 

“Six feet under.” You finally give in, and Shenhe smiles. When she learned about this saying, she couldn’t get enough of it. 

“Good, as they should. Nobody hurts Y/N and gets away with it. Now, let’s look for those dressings. “

Ganyu

“Hello, my love!”

You close the door behind you, and look into your living room. It’s very clean, yet something is missing. After a short moment, you hear Ganyu’s footsteps draw closer to the hall. You come out to greet her. Upon seeing you, she scurries right to your side, and envelops you in a tight hug. You hiss, and she pulls away quickly. She looks up at your face, concern painted across her features. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Yes, yes, just a little… sore, is all.” you put your spear up against the wall, doing so with your shield as well.

“H-here, let me help…”

Her smaller hands, with lots of experience in helping you get rid of all that armor, make short work of all the straps and buckles holding up the plates. Before long, you stand before her only in a damaged shirt, revealing a large and dirty bandage all across your stomach. Ganyu’s hands move up to cover her mouth when she sees this.

“Archons, Y/N… is it bad? Does it hurt?”

“Heh, a little. But it’s nothing I can’t handle. I would be really grateful if you helped me clean it up, though.”

Ganyu motions at the couch, urging you to sit down. She rushes to the kitchen to pick up the first aid materials. It’s far from your first return home with injuries, and Ganyu has been always prepared so far. You remove the remains of your shirt when she gets back, taking a seat beside you. She quickly moves to work, slowly unwrapping the bandages. Seeing her concern, you try to distract her mind a little. 

“How has your day been, Ganyu?”

“Oh? Well, nothing exciting to talk about. I just did work for the Qixing as usual. How about you, my love?”

“Fighting. That’s all I’ve been doing today. We took a trip to the Chasm to clear out the bandits and monsters a little. Not much, all in all. “

Ganyu only furrows her brow, not providing much of a response. The silence continues as she tends to the injury, muttering something about your carelessness once in a while. She is overall much quieter than usual. Most of the time, your wife would say simple things or just nod along while you explained what undertakings you got on to that day. Today, however, she seems much more pensive. A frown rests on her face, and her fingers stumble occasionally.

“Ganyu, is something on your mind?” You ask, taking a closer look at her focused face. 

You notice a glint of tears in her eyes. 

You quickly rise up, hissing at the pain this caused. You gently grab her cheeks, and tilt her head towards yours. She is indeed crying quietly, her eyes avoiding yours. 

Your heart clenches at the sight. 

“Hey, Ganyu. What’s wrong? Please, talk to me…”

“This i-injury… is very serious. I-if it would be a little to the left you would surely… d-die.”

She looks up at you. In her beautiful, pinkish-purple eyes you see what only could be described as pain. She runs her sleeve across her face, drying up some of the tears. 

“Y/N… I was in the market place in the a-afternoon, and I saw a t-transport… o-of…” She starts sobbing quietly. 

“A transport? Of what?”

“B-bodies… from the C-chasm…”

Unable to bear her sadness, you pull her closer. She digs her horned head into your shoulder, arms circling around your neck and hugging you tightly. You gently stroke her hair and hush her quietly.

“Were you afraid of… finding me there among them?” You ask softly.

“Y-yes.” She sniffles, embracing you even tighter. 

You let her cry into your shoulder for a while. As you whisper soft, comforting words into her ears you feel her trembling quiet down. You move to gently rubbing her horns, just the way she showed you hundreds of years ago. 

“I may be there one day. But it won’t be anytime soon.” She looks up at you, and your gazes meet. “I’m here today, and that’s what counts, yes?”

She lowers her head down onto your chest, and she nods slightly. You continue massaging her horns. After a short time, you feel her relax completely into your embrace. You lie with her for a minute, focusing on the comforting movements of her chest against yours as she breathes. You can feel her heartbeat slow down at last. 

Yet your injury still aches. Guess it was as bad as she said, huh. 

Summoning your utmost gentleness and care, you place her sleeping figure on the couch, very wary of waking her up. She gets little sleep because of work, so she deserves every minute of it to be undisturbed. You smile to yourself. 

With your visit, you surely messed up her schedule for the day. 

You pick up the dressings from the floor, and study them closely.

“Alright, now how do I tie this bandage…”

Thanks for reading!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #fluff #genshin injury fluff #injury fluff #genshin impact hurt/comfort #genshin hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #genshin impact shenhe #genshin shenhe #shenhe #shenhe x reader #shenhe x male reader #shenhe x you #shenhe x y/n #shenhe fluff #genshin impact ganyu #genshin ganyu #ganyu #ganyu my beloved #ganyu x reader #ganyu x male reader #ganyu x you #ganyu x y/n

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

I watched TBOSAS today (Sunday) and I’m sadly not very well (bad cold or flu), but I wanted to try and make a little post to appreciate the film/give my thoughts.

I saw the first three Hunger Games movies on opening weekend during my teens - the only one I didn’t watch at the cinema was Mockingjay Part 2, because it coincided with my GCSE mocks and some other stuff I had going on. I saw the first one twice at the cinema, once on opening weekend with one friend and then a second time with my then-best friend a few weeks later; I saw CF and MJP1 with my younger sister on opening weekend because it’s one of the few series we both love and so it’s one of the few things we can both enjoy together. My point is that I’m a huge THG fan, have been since I read the first book in late 2011 when I was 13 - I even still have my Mockingjay pin that I bought in March 2012 from Waterstones that I still wear!

Anyway, I read TBOSAS during lockdown, my sister bought the book and let me read it after she did, so this has been one of my most anticipated movies of the year!

!Spoilers below!

I was ill when I watched it and I’m even iller now but I’ll try to remember as much as I can

I LOVED IT

I’m glad they made Coriolanus Snow hot because I felt so conflicted watching him and that’s EXACTLY what was needed for the character, he’s got this beautiful exterior but he is POISON inside

Rachel Zegler was AMAZING by the way, I’m not her biggest fan by any means but I say fuck the haters

Hunter Schafer as Tigris was AMAZING casting, she really needs to shine away from Euphoria because damn she was so good in this film

Just in general casting ATE in this movie; Viola Davis, Peter Dinklage, Jason Schwartzman etc

Tigris was spot on: “I wouldn’t sing a note for you” and pointing out that Coryo needed to get Lucy Gray’s trust in order to help her win

Arachne Crane deserved death, idc 🤷‍♀️

NO ARACHNE FUNERAL LIKE THE BOOK?!?

The fact that the tributes were just dumped in a zoo and put on display like animals?!? Compared to six and a half decades later where the tributes are glammed up and treated like royalty, even allowed to train before entering the arena??? I love how starkly different it is

I won’t lie, Lucky Flickerman stole the film whenever he was in the scene 😭😅 absolute scene stealer?!?

Lucky trying to cancel his dinner reservations on night 1 of the games because “this is taking longer than I expected” 💀

Also telling one of the mentors not to puke on the floor after their tribute was killed?!?! Iconic really

“Those drones really are not very good” - PLEASE 😭

You can definitely tell Lucky is an ancestor of Caesar lol

The bow and arrow when Coryo enters the arena?!?! 👀🏹

Coryo killing Bobbin was BRUTAL. He could have stopped after the first hit, that was self defence - but he carried on and kept hitting him. It was definitely a huge moment

I obviously knew Wovey wasn’t going to survive, but god DAMN it 😭 DID THEY HAVE TO MAKE HER SO SWEET AND LIKEABLE?!? She just wanted to go home, and those were her last words before she was killed by the snakes 😭

Coryo really cheated just so Lucy Gray could survive, and it still has me questioning whether he cares for her or if it is just to do with the Plinth prize? 🤔

“What are the Hunger Games for, Mister Snow?” And all I can think about was him explaining in the original HG movie why there’s a Victor, why they don’t just kill 24 kids at random:

THE SNAKE SCENE IN THE ARENA WHERE LUCY GRAY SINGS?!? ASDFGHJKL THIS IS CINEMA

The Games felt so much more primal and sad, like you could tell all of them were just trying to survive, even Coral who seemed to target Lucy Gray ruthlessly but then before her death made the comment that it can’t have all been for nothing…

The fact that Gaul didn’t want to call an end to the games even though Lucy Gray was the final survivor, and it was only when the other mentors were chanting to let her out, to call it, that she finally did it…

I nearly lost my shit during the first hanging scene because I suddenly remembered that THIS was what the Hanging Tree song was based on; “they strung up a man they say who murdered three” “dead man called out for his love to flee” etc. And that is EXACTLY what happened, right to a tee: the man protesting his innocence, calling for his love to go…

Listen I may be REALLY off, but the meadow where Coryo and Lucy Gray met up again… is it the same meadow from the final scene in Mockingjay P2 with Everlark and their kids?!?

It probably isn’t but it reminded me of it idk

THE KATNISS PLANT - FORESHADOWING 😭 “it’s not ready yet” “things change fast” ASDFGHJKL

SEJANUS PLINTH YOU HAVE ALWAYS DESERVED BETTER 😭 knew it was coming but I was so sad

The scene where they hang Sejanus was so chilling, because the birds (i think they were Jabberjays and not Mockingjays but I could be wrong?) repeated his blood curdling calls for help as he was hung, like I was so haunted by it afterwards

No wonder Coriolanus Snow hates the fucking birds, Jesus Christ

THE CABIN AND WOODS SCENES?!?

The absolute tonal shift when he finds the guns, when Lucy Gray remarks that she’s the only loose end as if it’s a taunt, a challenge etc.

Coriolanus running through the woods, screaming “AFTER EVERYTHING I HAVE DONE FOR YOU?!?” - it just SCREAMS toxic relationship quite frankly, like whether you believe there was any genuine love at all or not, it just screams how toxic the relationship was between them. It was doomed from the start frankly

I was so concerned that the film would make it clear whether or not he killed Lucy Gray, but thankfully they left it ambiguous just like the book. Did one of his bullets hit her? Did she fly free?

It’s so interesting that Lucy Gray and her games were completely and utterly wiped, there was no trace of them - but her songs, her art, survived even after she disappeared. Songs like the Meadow song and the Hanging Tree survived and were passed on through District 12, becoming part of their culture - Snow couldn’t destroy that, no matter how hard he might have tried

Someone on Twitter made this comment and I agree:

Also YES, I noticed that Tigris called him “Coryo” until their last scene together, and then it was “Coriolanus” 😭 and also the fact that she warned him not to turn into his father, his father had hate in his eyes… and then at the end, she sadly tells him “you look like your father, Coriolanus” 😭

The small little hints of the man Coriolanus Snow is in the original series though??? The roses, the Katniss plant Easter egg, etc. And then there’s the fact we see glimpses of what later became his preferred method of killing his enemies - poison. He put poison in the compact and gave it to Lucy Gray, and then he poisoned Casca Highbottom… it’s just so fascinating to think of who this young 18 year old becomes later on, the way he changed over the course of the next 64 years and how those changes came directly from what happened in this story.

Ending the film with Donald Sutherland’s delivery of “It’s the things we love the most that destroy us” from the original movies?!?! FUCK YEAH I WAS THIS CLOSE TO SCREAMING

Honestly it’s got to be VERY hard to play a younger version of a Donald Sutherland character, but especially this one because that man KILLED the part in the films, but I think Tom Blyth did a really good job and I could definitely see hints of the older Snow being included in his performance, like I could genuinely believe it was the same character?

The fact that 64 years later a dark haired girl from District 12 wearing a mockingjay pin and singing songs once sung by a girl he thought dead absolutely fucked his life up?!? We love to see it. It’s like Lucy Gray gave him a middle finger lol

I’ll be honest, as soon as we left the cinema I said to my sister “the only thing is now I want to watch the original four Hunger Games movies” 😭

That’s all I can think of right now because I’m very feverish, I’ve got work in the morning and it was also a long film so there was a LOT going on, but I absolutely LOVED IT. The Hunger Games has truly been the only franchise that has a prequel that has been nearly universally loved and accepted by the fans, Suzanne Collins is truly amazing.

#the hunger games #thg #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games: the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #tom blyth #rachel zegler #hunter schafer

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Vast!Jon AU and Archivist!Sasha snippet

Sasha is about to take a statement about Mister Spider.

Sasha has only been Archivist for a couple of years. She thinks she's just getting an interesting story.

Sasha does not know what's about to happen.

(AKA: And YOU get some trauma and YOU get some trauma!)

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

“Statement of Jonathan Sims, regarding the creation of the photograph most commonly called the ‘spider leg illusion,’ taken… when?”

“Oh, uh - July 15th, 1995.”

“Statement taken direct from subject, February 6th, 2016. Now, Jon - I know it’s been a while, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me what happened on that day.”

Jon was going to tell her the official story.

After all, everyone knew it - it was part of his biography. 

It’s why he started taking photographs.

He’d been eight years old. A local bully had been murdered in front of him - some drug deal gone wrong, they said. And needing to make sense of it, needing to find a lens through which he could feel more in control, little Jon had stolen his grandmother’s 35mm camera, went back to the crime scene, and taken forty-six photos. 

Each roll of film could take twenty-four shots. He’d had to replace the roll, somehow figuring out how to do it without exposing or ruining anything.

Why not a full forty-eight? the police had asked him later, because he’d left two shots untaken. 

Because I was done, and didn’t want to be wasteful, he’d told them with grave solemnity, and between that bit of unintentional cuteness and the evidence he accidentally collected, he made the papers.

The photos - which his grandmother had developed out of raw curiosity - led to the arrest of three people, drug dealers, who went down for the murder of Darren Case, the bully.

But that wasn’t actually how it happened.

At all.

Jon opens his mouth to tell the lie.

And what comes out is not.

#

Eight years old.

A book.

A spooky, weird book.

Mister Spider, and some kind of mind control, and bruising (every day, bruising, but that was just life until Martin stepped in), and then his bully being mind-controlled, and those legs coming out of the house to take the bully away, and -

And Jon returning to the house, finding it again because he needed to see, and the door opening, and the legs coming out, the legs coming out, the legs coming out -

Almost as if showing off for him, or just saying hi, or taunting him because it could have eaten him and didn’t, or - 

One picture came out with those legs, just one, even though he’d taken forty-six, and it is the clearest one, absolutely crystal, with a clarity that seemed to go beyond what his grandmother’s camera could do, but that makes sense to Jon because that is what he saw.

Jon has always been able to photograph what he saw.

And nobody took that spider-leg thing seriously because what the fuck, because the important photos were the ones with drug-dealer faces in the windows and going in and out of the house and hiding Darren's body, and it’s not like photo manipulation of some kind hadn’t existed in the 90s, but Jon had no access to it, so it was a fluke, or double-exposure, or something weird.

Jon had insisted the spider photo was real for two months until he gave up trying to make anyone believe him.

His grandmother kept it.

And it had burned in the house fire that took his grandmother away.

He thought.

Somehow, apparently… it hadn’t.

#

And Jon is gasping, and Jon is crying, and Jon has relived this terrible moment as if he were there all over again.

He hadn’t had time to make the connection, but now, he has: You have been marked by the Web, said Elias Bouchard, who’d asked him for the story and did not get it, because Jon did not want to talk about it, but Jon couldn't do that with Sasha, no he could not, and now that it's all over, he cries out and covers his face.

Sasha can’t - 

She hasn’t ever - 

She has no words for what just happened.

She was there.

Lived it as young Jon Sims, feels bruised where the bully pushed her, feel damaged where she saw the spider-legs and has no explanation, feels betrayed as she is not believed even though she knows what she saw and has to deny it and has to hide it and has to force herself to pretend it wasn’t real -

Himself. Not herself. This was Jon’s actual experience, not hers.

Sasha is panting.

“What…” she says, weak.

“I… I don’t…” Jon says, weak. “What did you do?”

Sasha looks terrified. “I don’t know.”

He swallows. “Eye stuff. It’s got to be.”

“What?” she says, completely lost.

Jon is suddenly angry for her.

Elias hasn’t told her anything, and this is Martin’s friend. 

She’s nice. 

She believes him.

Wait. “You believe me?”

“Of course I do,” she says.

He’s very angry for her. 

Jon is leaning in, too close, like he has no sense of personal space. “Sasha. Do you know what Elias is?”

She stares at him.

“What this place is?” he says, and now, he can see.

She is marked, too.

Marked by the Eye.

He can see it as clear as day, beautiful, like a gentle staining of her veins, all the way through and so intricate and so intimate it could never be removed.

“Wow,” he whispers, reaching for his camera.

Sasha grips the table suddenly as though she thinks she’s going to fall. “Why are there stars in your eyes?”

Jon breaks eye-contact.

Sasha sways in her seat. She’s breathing fast, and her eyes are very wide.

"You," she manages, and sways in her seat again like the room is spinning.

He sees it.

Sees another mark, patterning alongside the Eye, not nearly as deeply, but very much there, and he knows he did that.

He just did it right now, completely by accident, sending her soul into the sky or however this works, and before he can melt down in horror, a rush of warm, pleased energy comes flushing through him, unplanned.

He inhales, for just one second utterly blissed out, unable to parse what he’s feeling.

By some great stroke of luck, she didn’t see him react to that. “Could you - I don’t mean to be rude, but could you leave?” says Sasha. “I need a minute. I’ll catch up with you, I promise, I’m not trying to be a bitch, I….”

He’s hurt her.

Shame comes rushing right in after that weird pleasure. “Oh, no,” he whispers. “Sasha, I’m - ”

“Do I really need to ask you again?” she snaps, shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, and then he flees.

#tma #tma fic #fic in progress #wip #amwriting #sasha james #jonathan sims #archivist!sasha #vast!jon

[listerbirdloml]

its defo not one word but I thought about this and banged it out in like fifteen minutes pls enjoy. no content warning just one naughty naughty word and terrible cooking (?) skills. 1.2k words

ty @underappreciatedtomato for the (two) word!

ice cream

“This is exactly what I needed.” Juliet mused aloud, sighing contently and readjusting how she lay on her lounge chair. There was a hum of agreement from Bliss who was reading a book to Angels right. Angel was in the middle of them and had been simply relaxing with her eyes closed. They had all been in the pool a few hours before and were now taking the time to dry off.

It was late August, and they were currently taking residence in a private villa on the northern coast of Italy. When three members of your six-person friend group are multimillionaires, you take advantage of that at any change you get.

The boys had been kind enough to fork out for the trip, using it as their vacation time away from the hustle and bustle of their fifth album recording. The three of them had left their phones with Cecily and had dedicated themselves to relaxing completely.

Which had led them to, at twenty-two years of age, playing a frankly disturbingly put-together game of mermaids.

Angel had laughed at first, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves greatly. At least they were happy. Even Rowan was playing along; his mermaid apparently caught in a fishers net. Jimmy was trying his best to 'free' him.

“I cannot believe that exactly four years ago today, Jimmy was getting on that train to Kent with some random fangirl.” Bliss said mindlessly, putting her book down and sitting up. “Now he's flapping about in a pool while said crazy stalker fan girl watches him."

Juliet snorted, and Angel slapped them both on the arm. “You're literally on holiday with your ex-boyfriend, four years after breaking up.” Bliss mocked hurt, and Juliet laughed. “Glass house, much?"

"Look, when said ex-boyfriend is paying for said holiday, it doesn't count as a lapse in dignity. It's economics, really."

As they continued with their good-natured teasing, they failed to notice as the three stars in the pool migrated back to join them at the seats. They only noticed when Lister crept up behind Juliet's chair and shook his head, his long hair splaying water all over her and the others.

“Ugh, you’re like a dog!” She called after him as he retreated inside, laughter echoing behind him as it bounced off the white marble walls.

Jimmy took his seat next to Angel, sipping on his alcohol-free mimosa that Lister had made for them all earlier. “How is it?” she asked, motioning down to his drink as she took a moment to adjust her waterproof hijab.

“Terrible.” The singer mumbled quietly, but he was still drinking from the novelty straw Lister had added to all of their glasses. Jimmy's was blue and bended a truly ludircus amount of times. “But he was so proud of it. I don't have the heart to tell him."

“When he wasn’t looking, I put mine in the flowers.” Bliss admitted. 

“I just waited till he had drunk a little of his and kept topping it up with mine.” Juliet added. Rowan shook his head at them, but Angel had seen the face he had pulled when taking his first sip. "Where is he off to anyway?”

“He said something about ice cream when we were in the pool.” Jimmy's words were met with groans.

“Mate, I can’t be bothered going out for ice cream just now.” Rowan grumbled. “I just want to lie down and sleep for, like, two years."

“Thats understandable.” Juliet nodded sympathetically, but it turned cheeky quickly. “Playing mermaids for three hours really takes it out of you."

The group beside Rowan laughed, with Jimmy patting him on the shoulder.

A call for them inside the holiday home alerted them, and soon they all meandered into the large kitchen. There were six bowls set out on the spacious kitchen island, filled with scoops of ice cream and spoons. The ice treat was white, so Angel had to assume it was vanilla, coconut, or something of that ilk.

There were various toppings set out on the island, such as chocolate sauce, sprinkles, and even a packet of Italian-brand Flakes. Lister stood on the other side of the counter, arms wide open, to present his hard work. His face was flushed a lively red and split in a grin. His hair was still wet and was curling where it fell against his neck, still missing his shirt.

“Where on earth did you get this? I thought we ran out of ice cream yesterday." Jimmy asked as he picked up the bowl closest to him.

“I made it!” The excitement in his voice amused Angel to no end, and she too helped herself to a bowl and a spoon.

“When on earth did you make ice cream from scratch?” Rowan asked skeptically.

“Last night. It doesn’t matter; quick, I haven’t tried it yet."

The whisper of ‘so that's where he went’ from Jimmy went unheard as everyone not already holding a bowl picked one. Bliss was the first to take a bite, and her facial expressions revealed nothing of her thoughts as she scooped one large spoonful into her mouth.

Angel followed soon after and realised why.

It was awful.

Truly disgusting. 

Somehow Lister Bird had managed to make not only god awful mimosas but also god awful ice cream. Angel had no idea how it tasted this bad. It was salty and tasted distinctly of egg.

Everyone had taken their own spoonful at this point, but Angel could see that no one had swallowed, everyone trying to find a way out of this that wouldn’t upset Lister. He still had a huge grin as he took a spoonful of his own.

It was in his mouth for barely a second before he spun around and spat it into the sink behind him. That seemed like permission for everyone else to hack up the disgusting, cold mixture.

“What the fuck!” Lister cried as he wiped his mouth, trying to cup water in his hands to wash his mouth out. Bliss had taken the chocolate sauce in her hands and was squirting it directly into her hands, with Rowan begging for some after her.

“The reccepie said eggs! And sugar!” Lister cried as he opened the cupboard and found the ingredients he’d used. When he found the sugar bag, he set it on the counter and squinted at the writing. Not that he’d be able to read it; it was in Italian.

Jimmy rounded the counter and also bent down to be eye level with the bag.

"Lister, that's salt!"

“What!?” The drummer opened the crudely closed bag and took a pinch of the white grains, bringing it to his mouth and licking it off. He gagged and went for more water. It would appear that Jimmy was right.

With their bowls cleaned and their tastebuds no longer lingering with salty egg ice cream, they settled on some of the store-bought snacks. Lister was pouting, even though they tried to reassure him that it wasn’t that bad. it was

“At least my mimosas were good.” Jimmy rubbed his back comfortingly. Angel could see Rowan go to speak and didn't have the time to stop him.

“Well, actually…”

#i was born for this #iwbft #osemanverse #alice oseman #the ark #lister bird #jimmy kaga ricci #rowan omondi #angel rahimi #fereshteh rahimi #juliet schwartz #bliss lai #I want to play mermaids :/ #so silly #one word prompt

[untaemedqueen]

The Deal

Drug Lord!Yoongi x Coffee Shop Owner!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

The Final Chapter -- Chapter 33.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love, Gunshot Wounds

Warnings For This Chapter: Nothin Just Good Ol' Fashioned Fluffernutters

A/N: Final chapter coming to you a day early because I’ll be too busy tomorrow to post~! Enjoy~! If you guys are missing books currently At Your Service is finished on Patreon as well as Spoils of Fortune being at chapter 16 already~! See you guys there~

Sometimes it'll be the winter chill creeping through the open lace curtains or Rex the rooster waking you up at the crack of dawn. In those moments it's easy to pull the thick duvet cover closer to your body and try to will your body to go back to sleep. Most of the time your loving fiance will drape his arm over you and mumble sweet words in your ear with a sleep laden voice as his lips drift over the back of your neck. Some mornings when he presses his face to your skin, you can feel the gnarled scar by his eye grazing against you and somehow it comforts you even further.

But this morning when Rex wakes you, there's no comfort to be found.

You lie still for a bit, pulling the covers closer and closer until your body simply refuses to fall back into the peaceful slumber it once was in just moments ago.

You can hear the soft patter of gentle footsteps in your bedroom that seem to echo all around you and you know for sure that you're not getting back to sleep anytime soon.

"Morning, buddy," your fiance whispers, trying not to wake you.

Pulling the duvet slowly away from your face and over your shoulder, you open one eye slowly.

In the corner of the room, slowly becoming illuminated by the rising sun, you can see Yoongi sitting down in the rocking chair with your one month old son in his arms. He has a bottle of milk positioned beneath his chin as he scrolls through his phone and you can only smirk at the sight of his fatherly multitasking.

There are mornings like these where everything about your life comes over you in waves like the grandest ocean.

When you first met this man you were appalled by him, simply trying to save your little brother from being murdered or seriously injured. Then you had to sign a contract with him that took you away from your shop and your passions to live in the forest most of the time. He taught you how to handle him being by your side naturally and slowly but surely, everything about him began to consume your heart. You understood him better in mere moments when you would hear about his childhood and how terrible the people around him were.

You were jealous of a woman who broke him and you fixed him like he was some precious vase of ceramic with cracks and chips along the whole surface.

He didn't want to fall for you at the beginning, he didn't want to become enraptured with you but sooner or later, he was in the palm of your hand like putty.

It wasn't easy for him to just accept this but somehow he did and his heart opened up to you showing you all the love he'd held onto for so long that not a single person got to see.

Sometimes you wonder what would have happened if you dated Hyunwoo instead, you can't imagine how all the euphoria of this life with Yoongi just wouldn't exist.

"I know, I know," the father of your child coos, setting down his phone and pulling the bottle away when your son fusses in his arm.

"Daddy!"

Yoongi tilts his head towards the door, putting his finger to his lips.

"Mama is sleeping, princess. C'mon," he chides in a hushed tone.

Your oldest child slaps her hand over her mouth with wide eyes and you can't help but smirk at the sight.

Sang is very much loved, a bright, sharp witted six year old that has her fathers looks and your fiery personality.

Once the whole mess with the snakes was taken care of, Yoongi made good on his promise. Although everyone in the family was making fun of him, he did indeed buy the farmstead you spoke about.

It quickly became your place of peace and living in the forest seems like a past life at this point.

You ended up giving birth at the farm like you wanted to and Sang was healthy from day one on this Earth.

The former drug lord found such beauty and love from his newfound family and he now dotes on his kids like nothing else in the universe.

"Hungry," Sang grumbles, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Where's your brother?" Yoongi inquires, leaning forward to peek down the long hallway.

"Sleeping! All he does is sleep and sleep and sleep!" your oldest daughter complains, stopping her tiny foot.

The fatherly smirk that etches onto Yoongi's face makes you want to give a heavenly sigh.

"Let me finish feeding Sanhwa and then I'll make you guys breakfast, okay?" your fiance asks sweetly.

Sang puffs out her cheeks as she thinks, running her fingers through her long black hair before nodding. "Fiiiiiine."

When she turns around to leave in the most dramatic fashion, your man only snorts softly, rolling his eyes at the princess's attitude.

"Women," he murmurs to your youngest son, bringing him up to his broad shoulder and rubbing his back.

When Rex crows again, Yoongi stares out the window to watch the rising sun.

Your days always start early now, the farm is a lot to handle but you both have your individual jobs. You mostly grow plants like fruits and vegetables, ones you live off of with chickens for fresh eggs as well as having horses and smaller farm animals that the kids have deemed their pets like Rhyz the potbelly pig and Juni the llama.

Taking care of the farm is a whole ordeal but you also have a full blown business with coffee that just simply adds to the daily chores. The both of you own a coffee farm in Brazil where you spend half the year, right now in the cold bitter months of winter Jeongguk and Hanna live there and they always do an amazing job taking care of the workers and the coffee plants.

So when you can spend extra time in bed, even if you aren't fully asleep, you take it.

When Sanghwa fusses again, you know that you're going to have to get up soon. He's a mama's boy through and through, unfortunately for your fiance who wants all the love you get.

"I know, it must be so depressing that daddy is taking care of you," Yoongi feigns dreadful sorrow with a fake heavy sigh.

"Daddy! Song won't let me play!" Sang screams at the top of her lungs and the former drug lord simply curses under his breath.

Sang and Song can't share toys, it's almost like it's been weaved into their DNA.

When Sang was only three months old, Song was growing in your belly. They're not far apart in age and sometimes that makes it more difficult to get them to understand each other.

Yoongi says he didn't mean to get you pregnant so fast but when he just kept smiling whenever you would complain about it, it was almost certain to you that he did it on purpose.

Five years later, you're more than grateful for all three of your kids.

Sanhwa begins to cry, it starts off soft and you finally sit up before it begins to reach a pitch that'll shake the walls of your home.

Your fiance smiles tiredly at you, patting his small son's back to try and calm him down.

"Mommy's up. Mommy's up, it's okay, little man," he whispers, standing up with a groan and walking towards you.

When he hands you your son, he plants a gentle kiss on your lips. His hand caresses over your cheek and his thumb drifts sweetly over your cheekbone.

His face is highlighted in the luminescent shade of orange from the sun and in this moment you can barely remember when he had a gun in the band of his tight suit pants all those years ago.

"Morning, sweetheart," Yoongi breathes, sitting down by your side.

Sanghwa stops crying immediately, grabbing ahold of the strap of your sports bra and tugging on it like he always does.

"Morning," you chirp, rolling your head around on your shoulders to loosen your muscles.

"I ever tell you that you're kinda hot?" Yoongi inquires playfully, pushing some hair back behind your ear.

"Can't recall it," you reply with a smirk.

He smirks then, looking over at his son who's already dozing off on your shoulder.

"What's so wrong with my shoulder? Why does he hate me?" Yoongi scoffs, widening his eyes.

"You don't have a tit full of milk," you joke.

Your fiance smiles, a perfectly white set of teeth that glimmer in the wee hours of the morning greet you. "I'll get right on that then."

You bask in each other's presence for a little while, both hands drifting over each other's skin comfortably until there's a loud crash that makes Yoongi sigh.

"I'm gonna go make the little tiger's breakfasts and then start on the farm work. Come down and eat," he decides, slapping his knees.

You give him a small nod, giggling when he groans once more as he stands.

"Don't laugh, baby doll. Once your postpartum pain goes away I'm fucking you so hard that you'll be groaning every time you get up," he hisses, wagging his finger at you as he walks backwards towards the bedroom door.

"You can try," you breathe jokingly.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he leans against the door frame. "Keep it up, sweetheart."

You stick your tongue out at him, rocking Sanghwa slowly until he's sound asleep.

"Daddy!"

Yoongi tilts his head into the hallway, almost certain there'll be a child running full force at him. "Yeah! I'm coming, princess!"

"I'll be right down," you promise.

All your fiance does is wink and then he's gone from sight.

Staring out at the bitter winter outside your window, you're snug in a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate in your hands to keep you toasty warm. Both Sang and Song are playing in the living room just beside you and you're surprised when Yuqi and Namjoon enter the house along with your husband who's back from the barn.

"Hello, my little cubs!" Yuqi cheers, taking off her fur coat.

Joon takes her coat without a word before throwing himself down on the couch beside you with a groan.

"What's your problem?" you inquire with a laugh.

"I had to drive over three hours to get here after getting off the fucking plane because you want to live in bumblefuck nowhere like some damn despot hideaways," he murmurs, tiredly.

"Wow. Look at you. Surgery went well I see," you muse.

Joon brings his hand to his scarf, pulling it down just low enough for you to see the bandages that cover his stitches. "Brazil was great but I'm happy to be home."

His voice isn't scratchy or pained and it warms your heart to see him speak without flinching with every word he utters.

"Yuqi must love that, now you can fight back,"  Yoongi jeers, handing his best friend a glass of whiskey.

"Oh shut up!" Joon's wife hisses as she sits down on the carpet beside your children.

Your fiance looks down at your kids, seeing how engrossed they are with playtime and he's happy he can sit down for a minute to unwind.

"How's the coffee farm?" he inquires.

His work though is truly never done.

Namjoon sits up taller then, giving the boss his full attention. "It's good. Better than good, honestly. Everything is perfect right now."

"The Macchiato Corner on Elmwood is finally done with renovations and it'll be up and running by next week," you add to the conversation.

"That's number ten. Soon people won't even want to go to Starbucks," Joon breathes with a sparkle in his eye.

It wasn't easy at first, all the guys didn't know what to do if they weren't peddling coke out to smaller dealers and fighting with people until they left faces bloody but sooner or later they got the hang of it and now everything runs like a well oiled machine.

"Hoseok's going on vacation with that model next week so I'm gonna have to run down to the city for the next couple of weeks," Yoongi announces, bringing his glass up to his lips.

"No daddy!" Sang chirps, earning all eyes on her.

Your husband smiles lazily, raising his scarred eyebrow. "Oh no? Why can't I?"

"Then I can't spend the day with you!" she whines, crawling over to him and resting her cheek on his knee.

His smile only grows wider at her loving affection and he courses a gentle hand over her cheek. "I'll take you to work with me some days, how about that?"

"What about me?!" Song yells, dropping his action figures and folding his arms stubbornly.

"You don't want to spend time with me?" you inquire with a smirk.

"I do… Fine! I'll stay with mommy and Sanhwa while you and daddy go be boring!" Song cheers, smiling up at you.

With a playful wink, you comb your fingers through his hair when he gets close enough to hug your legs.

It's not hard to completely separate your old life with what you have now. Even though you know that Yoongi has a box of guns hidden somewhere in the house just for emergencies. You've really come to adore this new life outside of the forest and away from all the illegal activities you used to participate in.

"Did you guys know that Taehyung bought a house?" Joon inquires, picking Sanhwa up carefully from his bassinet beside the couch.

Turning your attention to him, you fix your newest born boy's onesie with pinched eyebrows. "He has two houses already. What does he need a third for?"

"For his hoes," Yuqi muses.

"What's a hoe?" Sang asks innocently.

Yuqi hangs her head immediately, shaking it with a laugh.

"S-Something daddy uses when he tills the dirt on the farm!" Yoongi gasps quickly, digging his fingers into his glass of whisky and grabbing an ice cube before chucking it at his old friend.

"Mommy has a hoe too! Both mommy and daddy have a hoe!" Song adds with confidence.

Namjoon's laugh is loud and rickety, his eyes squeezing shut with each gasp of breath he takes.

Yoongi presses his lips into a tight line, cheeks puffing out as he tries not to give in to the laughter that wants to overcome him.

Snorting softly, you roll your eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Yuqi cackles, throwing herself onto her back.

"I hate you," you giggle, shaking your head.

Even when the farm work is done, even when the kids go to bed, you and Yoongi still work on the coffee enterprise until it's difficult to keep your eyes open.

With your son at your breast and your head down in paperwork, you barely notice your fiance entering the bedroom.

He stares at you for a while from the doorway and he can't contain the love that bleeds through his veins like his life's song.

Folding his arms, he lets the day come to a close in the most relaxing way -- watching you.

When Sanhwa is done feeding, you put him over your shoulder until he's burped and asleep.

"Come to bed," Yoongi begs sweetly, stepping into the room.

You nod to him, setting the youngest down in his bassinet and walking over to the bed.

Yoongi hums softly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and wrapping his arms around you. He lays back, taking you with him as his arms protect you.

You giggle gently, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers over the dragons that dance along his scalp.

"I love you, sweetheart," he mumbles, kissing over your sternum.

"I love you too," you avow.

His lips graze over the large golden tiger above your breast and his eyes are consumed with adoration.

You both get comfortable for a minute, Yoongi takes to getting practically naked while you lay on his chest and wrap your limbs around him like he's some sort of pillow.

"Yuqi told me while you were putting the kids to bed that she saw Olive and Sedra on her way back from the airport," Yoongi gossips, kissing over the top of your head.

"Oh yeah?" you inquire tiredly.

"Apparently all of the Lim clan is going to jail."

Your eyes widen and you look up at him in an instant. "What?!"

He shakes his head at the thought. "They sold heroin to the wrong people. It's really kinda sad. What are the women gonna do? Sedra has seven kids, y'know?"

Remembering Yoongi being in jail is not a memory you like to dwell on after six years and you can certainly remember in vivid detail how down and depressed you were when you had Sang in your belly and he was gone. It's not something you would wish on your worst enemy.

"That's terrible," you agree in a whisper, drifting your fingers down his chest.

"I'm happy we got out of that life when we did. I wouldn't want any of our kids to know it. Even Guk, he's got a kid on the way. I wouldn't want him to have his son know that type of shit."

Just thinking of your unborn nephew in that type of situation sends a shiver up your spine but you're quick to shake your head and shake the thought out of your mind.

"I'm happy with where we are and I'm happy you stuck with me through everything, even if I had to get you to sign a contract to begin it."

You smirk, drifting your lips over the multitude of ink inscribed on his chest.

"I don't mind contracts now."

Yoongi flips you over, crawling over you with a playful hum. "Oh yeah? I got a contract for you then."

"Oh?" you reply.

"Next time I get the pleasure of being inside you, you get pregnant for me again," he breathes, kissing you softly.

"It's a deal," you muse, smiling up at him.

"Good girl," he purrs, falling beside you and wrapping his arms around you.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Yoongi."

Dreams are never meant to become a reality but somehow, somewhere a dream you never even thought you'd be able to have came true.

Yoongi started out as something you could only describe as a nightmare, he was someone you wouldn't dare interact with but then he became the love of your life in such a short amount of time.

You couldn't even imagine your life any other way, especially when your unknowing dream became your reality.

<---- Last Chapter

The Deal taglist – @jeon-junggoop, @btsarmy9593, @slothykrueger, @jcsmae, @milesjeon11, @cloudyblisss, @borahae-reads, @secretlycrazyhummingbird, @rjsmochii, @sugas-bbygirl, @ggukkieland, @hyungieyoongi, @chxmachxps, @dvalitaes, @vintageroses10, @maerawrrr, @flowerblu00, @veronawrites, @seoqity, @wozwaid, @hisbutton-nose, @sweetempathprunetree, @jinsearthh, @codeinebelle, @serious-addiction, @bt21chim, @rosquilleta, @dunixxd, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @openup-yourmind, @shesaysweirdthings, @marslena, @deathkat657, @yoonlattesworld, @that-funny-alien-28, @clutterfied, @belladaises, @silentkei, @btsnina, @shydestinyyouth, @thefreddieman, @kkklaudiaaa17, @moonchild1, @ronie1974, @jeonghanniehae​, @rinkud, @giselleg7784, @bbkissme99, @geauxlsu79      

#the deal #final chapter #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #drug dealer!yoongi #drug lord!yoongi #yoongi smut #bts fic #bts fics

[babybluebex]

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 | 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | even though you can’t afford to break rules, you manage to with your own asset, the nerdy genius that created the zephyr. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | simon feck (knight and day, 2010) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 | smut— handjob, loss of virginity, sub!simon, slight dom!reader, mommy kink 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | WHY IS THERE NO CONTENT FOR OUR NERDY BABY SIMON IM MAD ANYWAY HAVE THIS | follow @cremebruhleewrites to be notified when i post a new story!

You had one objective for the night, only one thing that Roy had told you to do: keep an eye on Simon. Make sure he stays in the hotel room. He could do whatever he wanted, but he needed to stay there. It was similar to how Roy was supposed to watch June; “Just make sure he stays safe,” Roy had told you. 

You stood next to Roy as he explained to Simon the situation, and as he gave the younger man a pin that said Hall & Oates. Wherever Roy had procured that pin in Salzburg, Austria was beyond you, but your boss and trainer often seemed to do impossible things. He had only briefly told you about Simon— how he was the genius who created the Zephyr, how he was just out of high school and smarter than any scientist employed by the government today. 

You had expected a scrawny, lanky kid that had nothing going for him. Instead, you met Simon Feck. Six feet tall, ginger hair hanging at his shoulders, wire glasses perched on a pert nose, with the most pathetic excuse for a mustache and goatee you had ever seen on a man. Simon had been quick to try to rectify some of the information that Roy had given you. “I’m 21,” he told you on the train, over the sound of the hydraulics pumping. “I don’t know why Roy said I was just out of high school. And I’m not as smart as he says. I-I did come up with the battery, that wasn’t a lie, but I’m not Einstein or whatever.”

On the train, you and Simon had gotten along. He had a small iPod stashed in his pocket and, once he was finished with gawking and admiring the train and speaking to the conductor in clipped German, you sat with him and, sharing his earbuds, listened to music with him. He was funny when a song he liked would come on, he’d bob his head and mouth the words, and it made you smile. Then, as always, June’s presence seemed to fuck everything up, and suddenly your own presence made sense. Roy was the muscle, and you secured the asset. 

But the hotel was calm, and there wasn’t a lot to do. Sitting in Simon’s room wasn’t very eventful; he sat on one end, reading and listening to his iPod (Hall & Oates, no doubt), and you sat at the other end, trying to watch television but actually watching him. It was dull, truth be told, and you sighed. You had left a little space between you and Simon, just in case he didn’t like you sitting too close, and he looked up from his book. His cheeks were just a little pink, almost like he had been outside and gotten a little sunburn, and he said, “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you told him. “Don’t worry about me. What’re you listening to?” 

Simon grappled with his book to retrieve his iPod, and he clicked the screen on. “Hall & Oates,” he said simply. 

“I figured as much,” you giggled, reaching out and playing with the pin on his shirt. “What song?”

Simon smiled softly as he looked down at where you were messing with his shirt, and he said, “Do you like Hall & Oates?” 

“Not as much as you do,” you told him, and you let your hand drop off and into your own lap. “But I know the big songs. Maneater, Rich Girl, Out of Touch, you know.” 

“You’re Making My Dreams Come True,” Simon told you. “I-It’s one of my favorites.” 

“That’s a good one,” you said, and you folded your legs up underneath yourself as you got comfortable. “Do you like all 80s music, or just Hall & Oates?” 

“Just Hall & Oates,” Simon chuckled. “Since high school. I’d be in my little lab, working on the Zephyr, listening only to them. It makes me feel safe, y’know? My mom listened to them a lot.” 

“I get that,” you told him. “I’m the same way with Elton John. It’s just comforting to me.” 

Simon nodded, and he pulled out one of his earbuds and offered it to you. Just like on the train, you moved close to him to listen, but something felt weird. It didn’t feel like the train anymore. Maybe because you were alone now, the energy felt different. Your thigh touched his with the proximity, and you watched his hand come down onto your thigh gently, almost as if he didn’t realize what he had done. That was the final straw for you, and you whispered, “Hey, Si?” 

Simon looked at you, silently prompting you to speak, and you pulled the earbud out hastily. You couldn’t. Roy could sleep with June all he wanted because he was Roy and he operated under a different code than you did. You could not do that with Simon. The heat in the bottom of your stomach betrayed you, though, and you couldn’t help but sigh. “I need to go,” you mumbled, but, before you could properly get up to leave, Simon grabbed your hand. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. “You were fine a second ago.” 

“Yeah, I was,” you started. You couldn’t tell him that you had to leave because he turned you on. The smell of his soap was enough to trigger it, and you stepped back, away from him. “I-It’s not you, Si, I just, paperwork, y’know? Government entities run on paperwork.” 

Simon watched you with his big eyes, examining you, and he said, “I did something wrong.”

“No!” you told him quickly. “Simon, you did nothing wrong, believe me. Please don’t think you did. This has nothing to do with you.” 

“Is it because I touched your leg?” Simon asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you said quickly. You sighed, your chest heaving with it, and you looked at the door, where you had last seen Roy before he left. “Okay, it kinda was that, but not how you think it is. I… Simon, you’re just really attractive, y’know that?”

He looked surprised to hear you say that, his eyes widening and his eyebrows raising, and he shook his head quickly. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbled, and you sat back down, squeezing his hand.

“I’m not,” you insisted. “Simon, c’mon. Your big green eyes and your smile, you’re just so cute. I kinda… My heart races when I see you.”

“Really?” Simon asked. He looked down at his lap, and, mumbling, he added, “People in high school used to…”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, Simon,” you told him gently. “That sucks. People kinda suck in general. I was teased a lot in high school too.” 

“Most people have their first kiss by 17,” Simon told you, and he pushed up his glasses. He seemed to have a habit of fiddling with his glasses whenever he was nervous. “And here I am, I’m 21, and I doubt it when a girl calls me pretty. It’s just… It sucks so bad, being hurt like that, y’know?”

“I know,” you told him. “I’m sorry, that really does suck a lot. I-I wasn’t teased like that, but… Fuck them. You’re better than they’ll ever be, okay? You’re a bigger man than them.”

“A bigger man,” Simon repeated. “That all means so much, thank you. But I can’t help but feel just so inadequate. You know what I mean? It feels like nobody wants me, and that shouldn’t hurt so much, but it does. It hurts really bad.”

You shrugged, squeezing his hand again. “”I think you’re handsome, Simon,” you told him. “I think you’re adorable, actually.”

“You’re just saying that,” Simon said, and you watched a flush come over his cheeks, accentuating the tiny freckles he had on his face.

“I promise I’m not,” you said quickly. “In fact, I’d really like it if I could kiss you… Can I?”

“You…” Simon began, his flush glowing deeper in his cheeks. “I’ve never—”

“I know, baby,” you told him. You gently smoothed his wild hair out of his face, and you watched his bottom lip tremble in anticipation. “That’s why I asked.”

Simon readjusted his weight on the sofa, and he shyly mumbled, “I… I really like when you call me that.” 

“What?” you asked. “Baby?” Simon nodded, and you smiled sweetly at him. You had figured that he was a virgin, but his blush made it all the more obvious that he hadn’t ever felt the touch of a woman. “Aw, you’re cute. Can I kiss you, baby?” 

Simon nodded quickly, his shy nature keeping him quiet and mellow, and you quickly moved closer to him. Your thighs touched again, and his hand landed on your leg once more, and that fire returned to your belly. It was stronger than before, now knowing everything you did about Simon, and suddenly a different fire emerged. You wanted to ruin this poor man. You wanted to help him explore and discover himself. You needed to. You carefully leaned into him and touched his burning cheek, and you gently pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth. You heard his beautiful gasp as his breath caught in his throat, and he whimpered, actually whimpered at you. “Please…” he whispered. 

“Please what, baby?” you asked. “Use your words.” 

Simon seemed flustered, and you almost worried that you had taken things one step too far, but he finally sighed, almost lovingly simple and soft. “Please kiss me,” he whimpered. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but oblige his begging, and you finally pressed your mouth to his. He was soft, and he sighed as you kissed him, and it made your heart melt. Your hand on his cheek titled his head a little so you could better kiss him, and Simon made a soft sound as he finally kissed back. It was obvious he didn’t really know what he was doing, but his inexperience was cute. His hands twitched next to his body, and you smiled into the kiss before breaking it. “You can touch me, if you want,” you told him. 

“O-Okay,” Simon said, and he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Umm, actually, can we… Can we stop?”

Your heart sank, and you quickly shifted away from him. “Of course,” you told him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—”

“Oh, no, you didn’t,” Simon told you. “I-I just…” 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “Are you okay?” 

Simon swallowed thickly, and he mumbled, “I-I’m just…” He paused and his blush grew deep, creeping into his ears and neck, and he added, “I-It’ll go away in a minute, I’m sorry.”

“What will go away?” you asked. “Si, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s okay.”

“No, I do!” Simon groaned. “Y-You just can’t make fun of me, alright?” 

“I would never,” you told him, and Simon wordlessly took your hand and settled it on his pants. It took you a moment to understand what he meant, but then you felt him through his jeans. “Oh, Si. Are you hard?” 

“I-I said it’ll go away in a minute,” Simon stammered.

You chewed your lip for a moment as you thought. You definitely wanted to be able to help him, and he seemed like he would be open to the idea. “I could help you,” you offered. “If you’d like that?”

“Help me?” Simon echoed. “Y-You’d want to touch me?”

“Yes, of course,” you told him. “You’ve masturbated and stuff before, right?” Simon nodded, adjusting his glasses again, and you leaned forward and kissed him again. “Have you ever cum?”

“No,” Simon told you. "I could never make myself..."

“Oh, my poor baby,” you said gently, kissing him once more. “I’ll help you cum, if you’d like.”

“Yes,” Simon said, choking out his answer through a thick throat. “Yes, please, t-touch me.”

You took his hand and led him from the sofa over the large hotel bed, and you sat down first, kicking off your shoes and taking off your trousers and shirt. You figured he would be greedy for the feel of your skin, and you pulled him close to you and kissed him. You edged a little closer to him, pressing your chest to his, and you took his hands and settled them on your hips. “If you want me to stop, just tell me,” you said, and Simon nodded. “I’m gonna lay back and you’re gonna put your back on my chest, okay?”

His skin was warm against yours as he settled himself between your legs, and you took care to remove his glasses from his thin nose and set them on the table next to the bed. You softly blew on your hands, trying to warm them up for him, and you lightly reached around and touched his chest. Despite your gentle and slow movements, he still jumped, and you shushed him softly. “I know, baby,” you whispered. “Tell me to stop and I will.” 

“Don’t stop,” Simon said, his voice a little higher than before. “Please don’t.” 

“I won’t,” you told him. Your fingers itched in his shirt, tugging it up a little high to expose the happy trail of thin hairs on his belly, leading down to where his hard cock strained at his jeans. Carefully, you helped him tug his shirt over his head, and you kissed the side of his face as you discarded his shirt. He was incredibly thin, his chest pale with just the sparsest hair speckling his skin, and you gently smoothed your hand down his chest to his jeans. He sighed heavily, almost like he was comforting himself, and you kissed the side of his head again. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you whispered, and Simon shook his head quickly. 

“I want to,” he said. “I-I’m just nervous.”

“That’s alright,” you said. “I’ll be good to you.” You were quick to undo his jeans, and you snaked your hand inside his pants and down past his boxers to feel the burning skin of his cock, so impossibly hard. You sweetly kissed the side of his face as you withdrew your hand, and you pushed at his pants, trying to move them as far down as you could.

Simon got the message, thankfully, and he shoved his pants down his legs, kicking them off hastily. He seemed eager, and it eased you to know that he did really want this. Your hand lifted to his cheek, and you turned his head to look at you as you sealed your lips together again. Simon moaned softly, deep in his chest, and his hands lifted as he turned slightly to face you better. You expected him to go for your face, just how your hands were, but he quickly pawed at your tits instead. 

“C-Can I?” Simon asked, and you smiled. 

“Yes, baby, you can,” you told him, and Simon turned fully around and settled himself just above your tits, and his fingers worked to push your bra down. You went to help him, but he did it fully by himself, and his mouth attached to your nipple in an instant. You gasped in shock, but you still writhed beneath him when he sucked hard. “Oh my God, Si…Yes, baby, just like that. Do you still want me to touch you?” 

Simon grunted softly, nodding as he sucked at you, and you licked your palm before lowering your hand down to his cock again. This time, you wrapped your hand fully around him and slowly started to stroke him, and Simon’s mouth faltered around your nipple as he moaned.

“Good boy,” you whispered, smoothing his hair out of his face. Each stroke of his cock made Simon moan and buck his hips up into your fist, and you loved seeing the flush in his cheeks draw down onto his chest. “Here, baby, turn around,” you told him, and Simon gave a high whine when you tried to pull him away from your tits. “I know, baby, but I’ll be able to touch you easier if you turn around.” 

You almost didn’t hear what your baby said in response, something muffled against your tit, and you smirked when you finally understood it. “Say that again, baby,” you told him. “Because it sounded like you called me Mommy.” 

“M’sorry,” Simon said quickly. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, baby, don’t worry,” you told him quickly. “I liked it. Call me that again.” 

Simon nodded quickly, and you swiped your thumb across the sensitive head of his cock to elicit a sound from him. Thankfully, he did as you wanted, and his words came in a mumble as he keened back against you: “Mommy, please…” 

“I will, sweet boy,” you told him, kissing his cheek. “Stop squirming, baby, let Mommy touch you all nice.” Your hand quickened on his cock, moving just a little faster, and Simon’s head fell back onto your shoulder as he moaned again. His hands were twitching by his sides, obviously wanting to touch you somehow, and your free hand reached down to take his. Your poor boy already looked close to cumming, what with the way that his hips bucked up to meet your hand with every stroke you gave him, and you squeezed his hand. “Are you getting close, baby?” 

“Yes,” Simon whined. “A-Are you gonna—”

“Just warn me before you cum, baby,” you told him, soothing whatever anxiety he had, and Simon nodded quickly. “You’re being so good for Mommy, such a good boy…” 

“This,” Simon started, and he moaned as your thumb smoothed over the head of his cock again. “Th-This isn’t how I thought this night would go.” 

“Me too, honey,” you told him. “But I like the way it’s turning out, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Simon laughed, and you let go of his hand to turn his face so that you could kiss him. His mouth was warm, already used to the feel of yours, and, as he kissed you, you could feel his cock twitch in your hand. “Mommy,” he mumbled. “I-I think I’m gonna cum.” 

“That’s it,” you told him. “Turn around, baby, I’ll let you suck my tits while you cum.” 

“Can I…” Simon began as he hastily turned back around to face you, his eyes zeroing in on your tits. “Can I cum on them?” 

You smiled at his boldness to even ask, and you reached behind yourself to undo your bra, and you tossed it across the room. “Be my guest, baby,” you told him, and you dragged him down into a kiss. He was open for you, your tongue pushing into his mouth in an instant, and he moaned into you as his own hand started on himself. 

“I’ve done this plenty,” Simon chuckled as he broke the kiss, and you giggled at him. “Never thought I’d do it with a pretty girl, especially one who saved my life earlier.” 

“You’re welcome for that, by the way,” you told him, and Simon smiled as one of his ginger waves fell into his eyes. “Your hair just won’t stay back, will it? Got a mind of its own.”

“You should see it in the morning,” Simon told you. “It’s all flat and it’s everywhere, it’s not good.”

“Maybe I will,” you said, and Simon’s eyes all but sparkled as he took in your words. 

“Y-You’ll stay?” he asked, and you nodded. He huffed out a pant as he neared his finish, and he said, “Cool. I’d like that.” 

“Good,” you said. “You gonna cum, baby?”

“Yeah,” Simon nodded. “And you promise you’re okay with…?”

“Yes, baby,” you told him, and you dragged him down into another kiss. “Please, Simon, I want it.” 

“A-And what would that be?” Simon asked, and you laughed. 

“Trying to be a little dominant,” you mused, and the blush in Simon’s cheeks grew deeper as he laughed with you. “Alright, we can try that.”

“Use your words,” Simon said, more of a caricature of dominance than actuality. “What do you want?”

The way that the same words had previously come out of your mouth made you laugh, and Simon smiled. “Cum on my tits, Simon. Please, baby, that’s all I want.”

“Good,” Simon mumbled, and his fist worked faster, hurrying to cum. “I-I’m… Fuck.” 

“Oh, you’re cursing now?” you laughed. “What happened to my sweet boy?” 

“Call me that again,” Simon said, his voice high with a whine, and you watched his legs and thighs jerk as he grew closer and closer. 

“My boy,” you told him. “Are you my boy, baby?” 

“Wanna be your boy,” Simon mumbled. “Wanna be your boy so bad.”

“You can be my boy,” you said. “If Roy gets to be with June, we can be together.” Fuck your code, you decided. If Roy could do it and not receive repercussions, then you could too.

“Yeah,” Simon whispered. “Oh, fuck, Mommy…” With one more tug on his cock, Simon’s mouth fell open and his eyes squeezed shut as he came. His cum spurted out in thick ribbons, landing on your chest, and the flush in his cheeks grew deeper still as he moaned. His breathing hitched in his chest as he gave you his release, and he finally fell down on top of you, exhausted and spent. You couldn’t help but smile in his mess of hair, and you kissed his temple. 

“Good boy,” you told him. “You’re my best boy, Si.” 

“Thank you, Mommy.” 

You were thankful that you and Simon were quick to shower and redress because, not even an hour later, Roy came into the room unannounced. Simon had fallen asleep in bed after his shower, wearing just his boxers and little white wife pleaser, and you had settled yourself back on the sofa, where everything started. 

“Anything eventful happen while I was gone?” Roy asked.

You shrugged, looking from the television to where Simon slept. “Nothing,” you told him. 

“What did you do?” Roy asked, sitting next to you. 

“Oh, you know,” you started, and laughed. “We fucked.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Whatever, you’re making fun of me, I see it,” he said. 

Then, from across the room, you heard the high whine of your best boy, and your body froze as he spoke: “Come back to bed, Mommy, m’cold.” 

#simon feck x reader #simon feck #simon feck smut #paul dano x reader #paul dano smut #simon feck x y/n #simon feck x you #paul dano x y/n #paul dano x you #knight and day 2010

[sadaveniren]

A Post on Being Closeted

I’ve had a few anons recently messaging me about their thoughts on when Harry and Louis might come out and that’s fine but something has been kinda churning in my stomach, making me a little off, and I finally figured out why. It’s the way closeting, and their decision to come out or not, is talked about. Things like “I thought they were too proud to stay closeted” or “I just don’t see them as the type who would want to stay closeted” and I just... I really, really need to hammer something home.

Harry and Louis are only closeted publicly.

In their daily lives they live together, and their friends and family, and probably even close colleagues, know about them.

You have to remember that there are different ways to be closeted, and fandom as a whole seems to be taking the very strict “they can’t be themselves, they are living a lie” type of idea. It’s the most common one where they are just constantly pretending to be heterosexual, they don’t tell anyone they’re gay, it’s this big secret no one knows about, and when celebrities talk about it they’re always like “it was such a relief to get it off my chest, for someone to finally know”. But... that’s not the only way to be closeted.

There are a lot of people out there who have come out to their family, their friends, and they live their life ... gayly. That’s not implying going out to a club, or cruising, or even announcing they are gay daily in every conversation, it just means going about your day with this awareness inside you that you are gay. That you are not operating in this world as “the default”. You are, just by existing, being gay. Your queerness is so much a part of you that if you were a character in a book your epithet would be “the gay one”. They are... openly gay.

But because they don’t announce they are gay daily, or even to every person they know, they are still closeted. The easiest example of this are people who are closeted at work. They don’t talk about their spouse. They might even actively choose not to mention it (I’ve done this even, because I worked in fucking fiber optics construction and could tell if I said shit I would be tormented). But they have a family, they live their life as they want. They are “closeted”... but they live their lives VERY differently than someone who has no support.

And I think we should consider that this is the exact same situation. Harry and Louis are choosing not to talk about their spouse, or their personal life... at work. It’s only with us. Strangers.

Just like for a normal person chooses to be closeted at work, so too can a celebrity. And that’s not to diminish the fact that that kind of forced closeting happens. I actually have a pretty good idea of why it can be such a big misconception, that leads to this kind of thinking. It’s because, I think we can all agree, that at one point Harry and Louis were forcibly closeted. They were two cute teenage kids who lived out the first six months of their courtship on reality television. And then immediately got thrust into their dream job - a wild fucking world of fame that they couldn’t even begin to fathom. They teased each other, they reveled in the taunting, and the play acting. Hell they even... sorta enjoyed the lying, thinking they were getting one over on everyone. And then that was quickly taken away from them.

They were forced to stop interacting with each other. They were forced to lie. We have pretty good evidence that Louis had to lie to his sisters, probably to his extended family. His friends. He needed people to believe he was with Eleanor because anyone could leak a story about him, because he was so famous, and his management didn’t give a shit about protecting them yet, so they wouldn’t block stories that came up. Louis and, more than likely, Harry were at one point very close to the strict closet that the GP thinks of when you think of closeting. This was the reality of 2013 to 2015 One Direction.

That is not what it is now. And for a VERY long time in fandom, from 2011 until, hell 2019 or 2020 I want to say, the only other side of the closeted coin was a full reveal. Coming out to EVERYONE. Coming out to the public. And I do think that for a long while, definitely during One Direction, and maybe even through 2016, Harry and Louis wanted to “Come Out” to everyone. They wanted to give that part of themselves to the world. The Vogue photoshoot. The big interview. I think it was a very idolized time.

But that’s not reality anymore. They’ve changed. Society has changed. Parasocial relationships are a named thing now. The question of celebrity culture, and the right to musicians personal lives are coming up more and more. They are out to their family and friends. It’s very obvious Harry’s team knows he’s gay, same as Louis. And their families. People they work with, who know them, might pick up on things, might even see them with each other, but they aren’t being told outright.

Idk it’s just... when I think about people being entitled to someone’s closet, or assuming that being closeted speaks negatively about the person who is choosing to stay closeted, I think about the fact they are expecting someone to come out to STRANGERS. Do you know how terrifying that is?

Their families know. Their loved ones know. They own houses together. They vacation in Italy and Jamaica. They have a joint bank account, and one specifically for art. They probably smoke weed and make out with each other at social gatherings with their teams because they’re grossly exhibitionists, like... they are living the life.

Why isn’t that enough? Why do we - strangers - have to be invited?

Again, I fully admit that at one point in time Harry and Louis were closeted when they didn’t want to be, and told they couldn’t come out by people who had authority over them, and it was baked into “image clause” language in their contracts. Because they now both are “independent” (Harry has a distribution deal, and Louis is with BMG) there is a chance the “image clause” is no longer a thing that is stopping either of them from coming out. If that is the case they still could choose not to come out, and that would not change anything about who they are as people. It wouldn’t make them scared, or less, or anything but two gay people living gayly who don’t want to be out in at work.

TL;DR celebrities are humans who don’t have to tell the general public they are gay because the general public are strangers

#does this make sense? #idk #i'm half baked at this point but just... consider for a moment that what they let us see of their lives #is just a small fraction of it and they don't have to share it #hilariously this is exactly what harry has been saying about coming out #and how he just wants to live unlabeled #he just wants to live his life gayly

[yuzurins]

the last thing you’d ever expect would happen to you was atsumu asking you out.

the miya atsumu, the guy who seemed to never have anything other than volleyball on his mind.

though it was a shock to you, you reluctantly agreed, as you did have a tiny crush on the setter.

and it was fun— but only for the first few months.

somewhere along the line, everytime you’d ask him to go out, it was always, “oh i have practice,” or “i’m really tired from practice.”

practice, practice, practice.

you knew well even before you dated that he was extremely dedicated to volleyball, and that he was freakishly good at it.

yet you really couldn’t help but think,

what if he just doesn’t want to hang out with me anymore?

what if he just got bored and can’t bring himself to break up?

you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. you tried to subdue the thoughts of insecurity that were slowly eating you alive.

until one day, you just broke.

“were you and atsumu actually dating in the first place? i don’t think i’ve ever seen you two together.” a classmate of yours accused.

“yeah y/n, i bet it was just a lie just to make us all jealous!”

“that’s so shallow of you.”

“i didn’t know y/n was that type of person.”

the revolting glares that all your classmates gave you was more than enough to validate your assumptions.

it was enough to make you feel as though atsumu was really playing with you all along.

your stomach churned and you already felt the tears welling up in your eyes.

you didn’t even know what you did wrong.

was it your fault that atsumu couldn’t make time for you?

no. no it wasn’t.

so why did you have to become the villain?

why were you responsible for the fact that miya atsumu was an absolute jerk?

it really didn’t matter to you anymore.

so that evening, you broke up with him, erasing the world that was once your everything for the last six months.

you tried distracting yourself— immersing yourself in studying, grinding games until sunrise, hanging out with friends, reading books.

seeing as you weren’t phased by the thought of him, you thought you moved on.

seriously.

so how did you end up in front of the tokyo metropolitan gymnasium?

perhaps it was fate that you’d be in tokyo during the time of nationals. though you wouldn’t know, as you didn’t keep up with what the volleyball club did.

perhaps it was fate that you’d see a flyer for the spring national high school volleyball tournament on your walk around the huge city.

you could try blaming it on fate, but there’s no denying the reaction you had— the way your face lit up and how your heart beat faster.

as you were mentally debating on whether you should go in or not, you heard an awfully familiar voice.

“yn-san?”

tsu— no, osamu. it was clear from the way he referred to you.

he was the closest one to atsumu, so you guessed that he probably knew you already broke up with his brother and tried to come off nonchalant. “oh, hi.“

“what are you doing here in tokyo?” it wasn’t obvious, but after spending quite a bit of time with the twins, you could tell he was trying to not be awkward with you aswell.

“just a work trip.” you responded straightforwardly. there was no reason to lie.

“ah, i see.”

as osamu’s efforts went in vain, awkward silence came as the both of you struggled to find something to talk about.

“well—“

“you should come watch us play!” he cut you off.“what a coincidence that you’re here on the day we have our first match.”

osamu really was not the type to say that type of stuff. rather, this was atsumu’s sort of thing.

ignoring the subtle ache in your heart, you hummed and nodded. “sure, that sounds fun.”

the grey-haired boy in front of you exhaled in relief before giving you lazy smile.

“cool! see you later then.” he sent you a wave and bid farewell.

it seemed like a huge weight was lifted off his mind at the end, which you were a bit confused about, but quickly brushed it off since that wasn’t the main focus to you.

you just promised your ex’s brother that you were going to go watch them play volleyball— which was the root of the problem that caused you two to split in the first place.

it’s also the first time in two weeks that you’re going to see atsumu.

the closest word you could use to describe how you were feeling was anticipation. nervous, of course, but you very much wanted to see what was keeping atsumu so busy all the time, and how he could love a sport more than anyone else in the world. ouch

you hesitantly walk into the gym, peeking around like a meerkat as you quickly scan your surroundings.

you landed your gaze on the current tournament standings and timetable.

inarizaki vs karasuno…?

pursing your lips and tightening the grip on your backpack, you follow the sign and make your way up on the bleachers, familiar faces appearing the closer you get.

the court was bigger than you expected it to be, and there were definitely more people, too. everyone was warming up, looking like they were getting ready to start soon.

#7, miya atsumu was the first one up to serve. the cheerful music of the band grew louder, until your ex shut them up completely with a mere clench of his fist.

the sound of the two girls squealing amidst the total silence didn’t bother you at all.

because you were too focused on watching tsumu serve.

and you were, speechless.

maybe it was just you, but you felt as though the ball could’ve shook the whole gym as it impacted the ground.

you shuddered at the thought of having to receive that vigorous of a serve, and subconsciously scooted a bit forward on the seat you occupied.

the match passed in a blink of the eye. you didn’t even realize that it had already been over an hour since you arrived.

unfortunately, inarizaki did end up losing, though it didn’t really matter to you. their emotions and drive to win the game were conveyed earnestly, even if you resided in the bleachers way above them, and that itself felt like a win in your books.

maybe it was too late to say, you finally understood why atsumu was so hellbent on volleyball. why his club, and this sport, became such a significant part of his life.

the regret of not having seen atsumu ever play any games earlier came crashing down on you.

perhaps it was selfish of you to be feeling like this after acting all high and mighty that evening. what would you even say to him now? heck, what did you even want?

…you weren’t sure.

but the only thing that repeated in your head was that you needed to find him. this instant.

because communication is key in relationships, and that’s why you didn’t work out.

the clacking sound of your shoes hastily hitting the ground echoed through the empty hallways as you tried to navigate your way through the giant building.

honestly, you had no idea where the inarizaki team would be after their game, but if you wandered around enough, surely you’d see them around, right?

wrong. it’s been twenty minutes now and all you’ve been doing is going around in circles.

it probably would’ve been a much better idea to have stayed in the gym and watched where the team left off, but you were too distracted to think clearly at the time.

however, just as you were able to give up, you saw a familiar tuft of blonde hair walk past a corridor. it looked like he was walking with a teammate. springing back onto your feet, you quickly fixed your hair and followed after it, walking as fast as you could.

you trailed them through a few more corridors until halting abruptly around a corner when you noticed they stopped. there was no way you’re going to make a fool out of yourself here, so you stood there against the wall, the beating of your heart heightening every second.

it sounded like he was talking to someone about something, but it was inaudible to you as you were more focused on not making any noise. suddenly, the sound cut and you heard footsteps walking away.

pressing your lips together nervously, you slowly peeked your head out.

atsumu was sitting alone, head in his hands, mumbling on about something, before suddenly raising his head and glaring intensely at the wall. you jumped a little at his sudden movement, thinking that he might’ve noticed you, but slowly calmed yourself down as you braced yourself to go approach him.

he was probably really frustrated about the game, seeing as he didn’t realize you were right there until you sat down next to him.

“i— y/n?!” he choked, moving his whole body a bit back in surprise.

“hi tsumu, you finally noticed me.” you smiled sheepishly, wanting to tease the boy though it wasn’t quite the right time.

you could make out the tiniest flush of red on atsumu’s face at the call of his nickname. he shifted his gaze back to the wall and muttered quietly. “…what are you doing in tokyo…?”

seriously, who let him be this cute?

“you know, your brother and i had this exact same conversation earlier,” you laughed with a twinkle of endearment.

he turned his head back to face you in shock as you mentioned his twin.

“what the heck, that idiot ‘samu saw you and had the audacity to not tell me?” he complained, pout forming on his face. “ack, i’m gonna go teach him a good lesson when we get home…”

atsumu was expecting you to laugh and tell him off like you always did when he bickered with osamu, but you stayed silent, a smile remaining on your face.

he averted his gaze again though his body was still facing you. he wasn’t sure what to do in this situation, since he never expected he would see you of all people here.

“listen,” you started nervously. you wondered if this was the right choice, but it was too late to back out now. “i saw your game earlier, and geniunely, i thought you looked really, really cool.”

atsumu’s tensed lips relaxed, but too much to the point where he was starting to frown. you panicked as you knew where this was going and shoved your hand over his mouth. his eyes widened as he stared at you dumbfounded.

“don’t even mention it!” you warned, pout appearing on your face to match his. “it was a really good game, okay! i’m not even a sports person but i still got hooked in.”

he remained silent as if he was processing all your information like a robot.

you took that as a sign to continue before he could make a retort. “and i’m sorry, i’m really, really, really! sorry! that i doubted you just because you focused on your club a lot.”

hot breath tickled your palm as atsumu let out a soft chuckle. “you seriously don’t have another word to use than ‘really’, do you?”

you felt your face heat up and you pressed your hand against his face a bit more firmly in embarrassment, making sure he won’t utter any more nonsense.

“t-that’s not the main focus here! just listen,” it was now your turn to shift your gaze over awkwardly. “i just wanted to say that i’m sorry for being such a bad girlfriend and never coming to watch your games, or practice to be honest. i cannot believe i missed out on so much of your life while expecting you to be there for me at the same time too.”

“and i’m not saying this just to immediately get back together again, but rather because i think i really hurt you with my insensitive actions, so you don’t have to forgive me until—“

before you could continue, atsumu grabbed the wrist of the hand that was on his mouth and pulled you closer to him, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders and gently resting his head on the side of yours.

you flinched from the sudden contact, heartrate probably going over 100 miles per hour, but slowly stopped tensing up as you felt a light pat on your back.

“you don’t have to apologize that much, it’s not like i was the best boyfriend to you either.” atsumu spoke, voice almost as soft as a whisper. he leaned his head on yours slightly further in attempt to give you reassurance. “i’m already overjoyed just from the fact you came to watch me play, even if we did lose.”

if you were in an anime, the scene that would be playing right now to describe your mental state would be you frolicking around in a sunny meadow, butterflies fluttering everything, flowers in their full bloom, animals peacefully sleeping around, a moment of complete pure bliss.

your heart was doing somersaults, and you thought that steam would erupt out of your ears from how much you were blushing. the only thing you could get of your mouth was a small hum, yet that was enough for the boy to understand.

atsumu giggled quietly at how adorable he thought you were, embracing you with both arms now and resting his head on your shoulder as he listened to the sound of your heartbeat.

you mimicked his actions shyly, moving your arms to wrap around his torso.

“…you still smell like sweat by the way.” you mumbled into his chest.

your ex—or maybe now boyfriend again—lifted his head to let out a sincere laugh and squeezed you into his hold even tighter just to tease you as you jokingly squirmed around.

the small empty corridor filled itself with the sounds of laughter and the comfort of two immature teenagers. the two of you stayed there together for quite a while, losing track of time just in each other’s presences.

“‘tsumu?” you spoke up.

atsumu hummed in response, fatigue finally hitting him from the long game he had earlier.

“i missed you.”

#idk i was rewatching haikyuu and reallt wanted to write this #after i saw suguru and mika #i don’t really write on here anymore though #wrote something i would want to read #so take this super long scenario that i finished writing after sunrise #follow my wp #kiuizmi #anyways thnx for reading #i love atsumu so much #atsumu drabble #atsumu fluff #atsumu miya #drabble #fluff #anime #haikyuu #atsumu x gender neutral reader #msby atsumu #atsumu hcs #exes to lovers #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x reader #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines

[trashmouth-padfoot]

James couldn’t read very well, he never could. The letters always shifted around, jumbling up and proving it very difficult to read. The only person he had ever confided this information in had been Sirius, but Sirius had been no help, seeing as Sirius also was severely dyslexic, but Sirius had Remus to read to him. That felt almost too far from platonic for the two for James to ask Remus to do the same for him, and it outright embarrassed him too much to ask Peter.

When him and Lily began talking without the two of them butting heads (more so Lily doing the ‘butting heads’ than James, for James was always so openly head over heels for the woman), he made a very strict attempt at hiding his disadvantage, and this secrecy only worsened when the two began talking to Regulus, ever the bookish one. James hated the idea of the two discovering he couldn’t read, afraid either of them would think of him as stupid. Lily was so smart, and practically a goddess at potions. Regulus had read almost every book imaginable, each page filled to the brim with scribbled ink annotations, handwriting neat but also too sloppy for James to read whenever he caught a glance of the books Regulus would read (Sirius’ hand writing was completely illegible to James. Sirius’ handwriting appeared like a four year old had taken a writing etiquette class, and missed half of the lectures. Remus and Peter both had rather neat hand writing, and it was easier to discern. Usually, Regulus wrote in cursive, and it was practically impossible for James to understand, and Lily’s handwriting was neat and precise; James could read hers better than any of his friends’).

James was pretty good at hiding this, up until James made the foolish agreement to study with Regulus and Lily. They hid away in the Room of Requirement for privacy and to avoid annoying interruption, curling up together on a large sofa as each one studied their own things.

James, on the other hand, just kind of sat there awkwardly. James was more of a hands on kind of person, studying by replicating and practicing rather than reading and memorizing. He definitely wouldn’t sacrifice being sandwiched between the loves of his life just to stand and practice some nonverbal spell work though, so he pretended to be interested in his copy of his Charms book.

“James you haven’t flipped the page in fifteen minutes,” Regulus suddenly said, and both Lily and Regulus’ eyes locked onto James. James blinked a couple times, trying to make an excuse. “We didn’t have to study if you didn’t want to,” Regulus said, closing the book that he previously held.

“Well you need to study, James, you’re taking N.E.W.T. courses,” Lily said with a certain accusatory tone, and Regulus glanced at the book. Now that he focused on it for long enough, book itself seemed entirely untouched, even by others’ standards of untouched. The pages looked completely unbent and clean, and after a moment, Regulus realized that James had his book open to about six units behind what Lily had hers open to.

“You’re not even on the right unit,” Regulus added, and James stared down at his book before glancing at Regulus.

“Review,” James managed, severely unable to lie to the younger. Regulus saw through it instantly, raising his brows.

“Sure. Whats wrong?” Regulus asked, picking up on the almost frightened expression plaguing James’ face currently. James swallowed.

“I can’t read very well,” James said quickly, as if trying to say it so fast neither of them would catch it; they both did.

“It can’t be as bad as Sirius,” Regulus said complacently, waving his hand dismissively. “He always said the letters were moving and dumb stuff like that.” James was going to cry.

“They do.” Regulus paused as he realized his lapse in judgement, glancing at James. Okay, so James and Sirius both had the same issue. Regulus could save this.

“Our cousin Andromeda, before she decided to go off with a Muggleborn, helped Sirius fashion a reading spell that would read to him. I’m sure Sirius would tell you if you asked,” Regulus insisted, not fully understanding that his attempt wasn’t helping at all. James wanted to merge and become one with the sofa below them, solely so he wouldn’t have to see the look of uncertainty in his lovers’ eyes as they stared at him.

“Or,” Lily began, letting her fingers card into James’ hair, “we could read to you whenever it was needed? Would that help?” James flushed a slight pink, relaxing into Lily’s touch anyways.

“That’s embarrassing…”

“I don’t find it embarrassing,” Regulus said, inching closer to James to supply the latter with more comfort. “And neither of us would mind.” James swallowed slightly.

“That…that’d be nice, then,” James mumbled. Lily gave a smile, continuing to play her hand through James’ hair. “You guys…don’t think I’m dumb?”

“Of course not,” Lily said as if it was obvious, almost sounding offended at the prospect. “You can’t control being dyslexic, Jamie, it certainly doesn’t make you stupid.”

“But Reg said-”

“I think Sirius is the epitome of idiotic to begin with, so anything that he does is stupid. Your guys’ issue isn’t stupid, Sirius just is.” Despite Regulus just insulting one of James’ best friends, James laughed at it anyway.

“Okay then.”

“I’ve got a genuine question. If you can’t read, and I’m assuming you just don’t read for class, how the fuck have you been passing everything?” Regulus suddenly asked after a moment, blinking at James. James gave a smile.

“Remus, we copy off him all the time,” James confessed, and Lily scoffed a laugh.

“Of course you do.”

“He lets us!” James defended. “We let him copy us in potions, so it’s even.”

“Mhm,” Lily hummed teasingly, still playing with James’ hair. James couldn’t think of another comeback, so he just simply relaxed into Lily again, closing his eyes.

“We still have to study.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Reg.”

#someone definitely asked at one point why his glasses don’t fix the dyslexic problem #James just stared at them like they were dumb #jegulily #jegulus #jily #mauraders #james potter #mauraders era #regulus black #lily evans #dead gay wizards

[lordoftherazzles]

Funniest passage from a fic

Thank you for another tag game, @i-did-not-mean-to!! This one is REALLY hard okay??

Honestly, this all revolves around one fic, the most crackshit thing I’ll probably ever write, and it’s always the best place to go whenever I’m feeling silly, it is absolutely the funniest, and that’s → Where The Shadows Lie

Chapter 2: Fucking Airpods

“What’s so important down here, Frerin?” “You have to watch this. I’ve discovered something today about modern technology that may help us in the future.” “This hardly seems important.” They came to a stop near the desk, watching Bilbo tap a pen against a notebook and seem focused on looking over some numbers. No doubt it was just business work, to which Thorin found incredibly boring right at the get-go. “Bilbo Baggins is a fucking twink,” Frerin cheerfully spoke, and Thorin practically squawked at the lack of manners. “Frerin!” Thorin hissed between his teeth, face ultimately twisting into something rather hostile before feeling a hand pat his chest to keep him from either tearing into Frerin or making a move to gain Bilbo’s attention. Thorin may not have found the human enjoyable, but there was still a thing called decorum. Something that Frerin severely lacked it seemed. “He can’t hear me. I’ve been standing down here for a while trying to get his attention with no response when he wears those little white things in his ears. They must be...super-powered or something!” Frerin could see the skepticism on Thorin’s face. “I even had Ori try. He’s nice enough that Mister Baggins wouldn’t ignore him, but he didn’t seem to hear the lad! Watch-” “Frerin, that’s enough.” “Bilbo, Thorin here is only a big huge grump because he hasn’t gotten laid in about six decades. He thinks you’re very handsome and wants to make freaky wild vampire sex with you-” “Frerin!” Thorin had his hands at Frerin’s collar, shaking the blond and noticing Bilbo shifted only when the desk was knocked a bit by that shaking. As Bilbo plucked one of the white earbuds from his ears, Thorin came to a halt, staring at Bilbo with a lump in his throat. “Thorin, Frerin, is something the matter?” Bilbo’s tone was calm and even, sounding oblivious to just about everything right now. “We were just talking about how nice this place was. I was showing Thorin some of the lovely pieces you have hanging about here. He has an eye for pretty and sharp things.” Frerin was grinning nearly from ear to ear, Thorin as pale as a sheet, which wasn’t a far cry from his normal hue if anything. “Thanks! My mother did most of the decorating around here, I’m glad you two enjoy it so much.” Though Bilbo wasn’t unaware of the words Frerin had been spilling all evening and had to keep from laughing to expose just how much he knew. Poor Thorin looked uncomfortable, and that was a great reward. Bilbo swore he could see a bit of that floppy hat Bofur wore from around one of the corners that led into the sitting room. “If you’re interested, I have a collection of old swords and daggers she used to bring me that I could show you sometime before your departure.” “That would be lovely, Bilbo. Thorin does so love to play with swords, and I’m sure he’d love to see yours.” And as if on cue, a terrible cue, Frerin was a small squeaky little bat, escaping before Thorin could throttle him any longer. “I…” Thorin cleared his throat and tried not to flounder as he felt a wave of exhaustion hit him out of the blue. “Good evening.” Tactful as ever, and Thorin made his exit on foot, tiresome as it was.

Non-obligatory tags for @necrobratz @fantasyinallforms @pomgore @sunnyrosewritesstuff @frosticenow @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book @blairsanne and anyone else who wants to play!

#tag game #idnmt #bagginshield #thorin oakenshield #frerin #bilbo baggins #vampire au my beloved #i am done with the tag games yay

[onceuponalegendbg]

Thoughts During TOH 3x01 Thank to Them

Alright, here we go. Let’s do this. Final season of the Owl House.

Man, the first six minutes are so bittersweet. All the adventures we would have had. But honestly, Dana and crew made the most of that intro holy cow.

It’s really cute that they were all trying to learn Spanish. Amity referencing the top student star. Ha.

Finding that little box was a little quick but I’m not gonna hold that against them.

Luz, baby, you really are too hard on yourself.

Luz being like “mom” and Camila not understanding that Luz is trying to warn her about something in the road actually reminds me of something that happened with me and my mom. We were trying to decide what to cook for dinner for a party. I saw a deer in the road and didn’t want to freak Mom out so I very calmly was like “Deer.” Mom didn’t get it and replied “I don’t think that would be a good idea for this.” And so more emphatically I said “No, Mom, deer,” and she finally saw it and hit the brakes.

….Anyway, back to the show.

Hunter has gotten really good at sewing. And wolves are cool.

Finding a character your relate to in an effort to try and sort your own stuff out? Say it isn’t so.

Camila is such a good mom, y’all. I’m crying. She loves Luz so much. Every scene with them hits so hard, why are they so good?! Frick me.

Willow is so supportive of her man lol.

Belos goop!

I never knew to fear giraffes until now.

Oh hey, Grey Griffin Goth Kid. Which flag are their nails painted for? Vee seems smitten.

The photo album of adventures we could have had. Sigh….. Last time I’ll bring it up I promise.

Oh? A little magic in those glyphs?

Oh, Hunter… we know you’re not crazy.

“You’re family now.” Aw, sweetie, don’t cry. Luz and Hunter’s sibling dynamic is all I ever wanted.

Nerd bros.

Uh, Camila? Got something to share with the class?

Luz baby… You couldn’t have known. I mean, the audience knew… but you couldn’t have.

Oh god everyone looks so cute!

Ah! Man! No! Not possession!

Oh. Hi. Jacob.

Oh, Goth Kid! (Do they have a name?)“Boo! Just lie to me!”

Evelyn? Interesting. Sounds like a Clawthorne.

“Sounds like big bro got a hot witch girlfriend and little bro got upset, but that’s just me.” Facts.

No! Belos is possessing him!

Man, she’s been making video diaries since she was a kid.

Awww no! The Azura books were something her dad left for her!!!! No! Don’t make me cry!

I’m gonna be honest, I completely forgot about the cut on his finger.

Oh! Interesting. Titan Blood = Able to do Glyphs.

Not gonna lie, Hunter looks dope.

Yooooo! The animation just got a boost! So smooth!

Leave Flapjack alone!

So… can Hunter not swim or….?

Yo are we actually going back now!!?

Man I saw the theories but I really hoped Flapjack wouldn’t die man.

“Sit up slowly, baby.” Aw Camila, why are you so good?

Of course they don’t blame Luz.

Camila is really coming with us? Oh man. I’m so excited for that.

“We’ll be back after we get some revenge.” Oh my god I love her.

Aw, the callback.

Man that was a lot. I’m still really processing all this but… man I’m so glad this show is back. I think the next one isn’t airing until 2023? But regardless, just having this was phenomenal.

Dana? Crew? You guys did amazing! Can’t wait to see more.

#spoilers #the owl house deserves better #the owl house #toh #owl house #dana terrace