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captainfern · 10 months

Note

hey captain, it’s me again. I have come to repent from my sins by requesting your blessing with a jealous dbf!price that doesn’t like other “man” (aka boys) around you.

Thank you for your service captain 🫡

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Marigold pt. 3

dbf!Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Marigold” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - what the request says but price shows you how jealous he is lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 1.8k • warnings - fem!reader, dad’sbestfriend!price, established relationship?, age gap [whatever you want it to be as long as it's legal lmao], jealous!price, possessive!price, unprotected piv, strong language

mmmmm look at that nose— yooooo what????? girl who said that oh my goddddd... 😏

a longer dbf!price fic will happen soon i’ve just got to start writing it LMAO

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Price never used to be a jealous man.

Past relationships came and went and he never found himself jealous if they spent time with other men, or had male co-workers or friends taking up a portion of their time.

It never bothered him, because he wasn't self-conscious. He knew that, at the end of the day, they'd come home to him.

But something changed within him. The past few months of building this secret relationship with you changed something within him.

Maybe it was the fact you were younger than him, thereby attracting younger men who, from knowledge, Price knew were total fuckheads. Or maybe it was the fact that you were just so nice— so polite, so smiley, such a good girl.

Upon re-evaluation, Price determined it was probably a mix of those two things.

The past week had been taking a toll on him. Watching the way you seemed to attract fucking idiots that fawned after you, showed off to you, all with the hopes of getting into your pants. Price knew you weren't dumb enough to let these morons get what they wanted, but the thought still made his jaw tick.

Today, especially, had him on the edge of his fucking seat. Not in excitement, or anticipation for anything. But because he was this close to ripping the trachea out of this guys throat beside you.

Price's best mate, your dad, invited some other friends around for a couple of drinks. They were mutual friends with Price, too, so he knew what he was expecting when two of them showed up. But he wasn't expecting one of them to bring their young adult son.

"This is Grayson," the friend introduced to your dad. "You don't mind that he came along, do you?"

"Of course not, mate. The more the merrier." Your dad said, offering Grayson a beer as everyone gravitated towards the living room, settling in on the couches there.

Not long after, you came home from work. Your eyes found Price's as soon as you walked through the door, and Price noticed the way your lips quirked at the corners, fighting a smile. Your dad was beckoning you into the living room before the smile could fully settle on your face.

And that's how you ended up here. Sitting on the couch across from Price, resting against the plush armrest. That cunt Grayson— stupid fucking name, anyway— sat beside you. Price saw how well the two of you hit it off. He saw how he made you smile with small joking remarks, how he kept you interested about whatever stupid fucking thing he was talking about. He made you smile, and nod, and laugh, and ask him more questions about his life.

The grasp Price had on his glass of whiskey was turning white-knuckled. If the force increased anymore, the tumbler would shatter.

Grayson dropped flirty remarks as the night progressed, your dad too engrossed in his own conversation to shield his daughter from the ridiculous amount of jokes and chat-up lines.

One thing that did stop Price from beating the shit out of Grayson in front of everyone was that you weren't flirting back. You were being nice, polite, but you shot down each one-liner with a cheeky quip, or a roll of your eyes. But, what pissed Price off was that Grayson, the dumb fuck, couldn't take the fucking hint.

"Hey, you want to come outside and get some fresh air?" Grayson asked you, already half off the couch.

"Um..." You hesitated, eyes flicking subtly over to Price.

He grit his teeth and shook his head, raising his tumbler of whiskey to his lips as he did so.

"Um... I'm okay for now." You said politely, smiling sweetly.

"Okay, no worries. I'll be outside if you change your mind." Grayson returned the smile, then left the room, heading for the front porch.

You fidgeted with your hands on your lap, avoiding Price's eyes. He was looking at you over the rim of his glass, and his stare was hot. So hot, you were starting to feel stuffy.

"I... I'm just going to pop outside..." You cleared your throat, telling your father.

"Alright, honey, see you soon." Your dad waved you off, not giving you much attention after that.

Ignoring Price's stare, you quickly shuffled across the room. You heard heavy footsteps behind you, and you tried not to squeal when you made it into the semi-seclusion of the entrance hall. You knew who it was.

You had a hand on the front door handle when Price's hand engulfed yours, pinning it there. His body pressed to yours, keeping your front pinned against the solid wood door. His chest heaved against your back, and you took a deep breath to try and soothe your nerves. It didn't help, since you could just smell him.

Price did much the same. He didn't even have to take a deep breath to smell your perfume, your shampoo, your everything. A smell he had grown obsessed with these past few months.

"Where're you going?" He asked, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Outside..." You whispered, flinching when a burst of laughter erupted from the living room, just metres away.

"Why?"

"Just... just to get some fresh air."

"Is that right?" The hand around yours squeezed gently. "No other reason?"

You shook your head, body growing warm at the closeness of the two of you.

Price hummed, sceptical.

"Do you not trust me?" You bit out, trying to keep your voice level.

"Oh, sweetheart, of course I trust you," he said, other hand grabbing your hip and pushing your backside into his pelvis. "But I don't trust him."

With that, he let go of you and took a small step back. You felt like you could finally breathe again. You turned to face him, your back now leaning against the door.

"Are... you jealous, Price?"

Price cocked his heat, swiping his tongue over hit lower lip in thought, eyes locked to yours.

"Jealous...?" He whispered slowly as if he was tasting the word.

You waited for his reply, raising your eyebrows expectantly. "Mhm."

He chuckled lowly, shaking his head and finally breaking eye contact, looking at the floor for a moment. When he looked back up at you, his smile faded.

"I am," he said simply. His tone was dark. "You wanna know why?"

You nodded, another loud spurt of laughter sounding from your living room. It made your eyes dart to the doorway briefly.

"Look at me." Price whispered.

You did.

"I'm jealous because I don't like little fuckheads like him thinking he has a chance with you," he said. "I don't like boys flirting with you. Talking to you like you're theirs. D'you understand that?"

You forced yourself to nod stiffly. Was it weird you were turned on by this conversation?

"So, if you want to go outside with him, sweetheart, then be my guest," Price gestured at the door. "But if you do, he won't be leaving here with working legs."

You gaped at him.

"Or a working cock, for that matter."

"Oh my god, Price." You whisper-yelled at him.

You pressed your thighs together, butterflies in your stomach. Was it sick that this was making you horny? You had so many questions for yourself at this point.

"So?" He implored casually, if he hadn't just threatened to turn off Grayson's fucking legs. "Are you going to go outside, or—?"

"Or what?" You whispered. It was meant to be challenging. But it probably sounded pathetic as the heat in your core increased.

"Or are you going to come upstairs?"

•º•

"Mmpf— mmm—"

"Shh, come on, sweetheart, quiet." Price cooed in your air, leaning over your back as he fucked you hard against your bed.

He had a hand to the back of your head, pushing your head into your pillows. His other hand was on your hip with a bruising hold, slamming your arse back onto him, ramming his cock into you over and over.

"Mmm— mhm—" You tried to speak to him. Tried to moan, tried to sob, tried anything.

But he continued to rut into you at an animalistic pace. The only sounds you could hear was the faint slapping of skin, and the subtle wet shlicks when his cock fucked deeper into your wet heat.

"You don't want Grayson hearing you, right?" Price whispered, dragging his teeth along the top of your spine. "You don't want him to hear how good you're getting fucked. Don't want him to hear how wet this cunt is and how fucking desperate it is for my cock. Do you, sweetheart?"

"Un-uhhmmm—" That was meant to be a no.

"S'what I thought," Price increased his pace, dragging his cock hard against your gummy walls, literally pounding you into your mattress. "You're— fuck— you're mine. No one else gets to hear your pretty sounds, or gets to fuck your pretty cunt, but— ah, fuck— me, yeah? Just... fucking... me."

Each word was punctuated by a hard thrust that hit that spot inside you perfectly, and your entire body shuddered as you came around him, crying into your pillows.

He continued to rut into you, grunting deep from his chest, his body curled atop yours while pinning you to your mattress. He cursed, muttering your name around a grunting moan as he came inside you. You whined at the sensation, your cunt clenching around him, milking his release. He groaned, kissing down your back before he pulled out. You felt yourself shiver at the emptiness.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Price asked, gently flipping you onto your back, massaging up your sides.

"Mhm..." You hummed, blinking lazily at the ceiling.

He leaned over you and placed a couple of soft kisses to your mouth. "Was I too rough?"

"No, no, you were good," you reassured him. "Really good. I promise."

"Okay..." Price kissed you again, deeper this time, tongue running along the seam of your lips.

Before the kiss could progress further:

"Price, mate, you up there?" Came your dad's voice from the bottom of the stairs, and both you and Price froze.

Price cleared his throat, shouting back: "Yeah, mate. Just going to the bathroom!"

"Hurry up then! The game's about to start!"

Price shot you an apologetic look as he clambered off of you and began to dress hurriedly. You watched him from your bed.

"There's nothing to be jealous of, Price," you said suddenly, and he paused his actions of buckling his belt. "I only want you."

He grinned, sly, cocking his head. "That so?"

You nodded, smiling with your teeth snagged on your bottom lip in a gesture of bashfulness.

His grin grew while he threw his shirt on. "Good. I only want you, too."

"That so?" You mimicked him, and he chuckled, crossing the room.

He took your head in both of his hands and kissed you. He stroked your cheeks with his thumbs when he pulled away.

"What am I going to do with you..." He tutted, shaking his head.

"A lot of things, hopefully."

"Fucking hell. You'll be the death of me, sweetheart."

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#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #captain john price #captain price #fem reader #captain price smut #price x reader #captain john price x female reader #captain’snirvana #john price #captain john price x you #captain john price smut

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greg-montgomery · 10 months

Note

Hi! Sorry for bothering, I have a request if you don't mind, but I have a thing to say too. I downloaded tumbler just a week ago, and I've been in love with everything you've written. Literally, you can't even imagine how much. The dynamics between Hotch and Reader are >>>>>>>, not to mention the Jack-Reader bond, which, honestly, is healing my inner child, lol.

If you have time, of course, and if you wouldn't mind doing that (I really don't wanna bother you) could you write something with this plot?

The team has to share a room for a case, and Hotch had to bring Jack because Jessica couldn't be with him. Hotch, since he was with Jack, had decided to take the room alone, but when Reader asked Emily to room-share, Jack insisted on staying with Reader. Then, you know, there's only one bed... And while Hotch is showering, Reader ends up comforting Jack, and they fall asleep together, cutely. When Hotch cames back, he asks Reader for cuddles.

I'm sorry if that's too long or if you don't wanna write it, it's totally okay, really. Sorry for bothering again <3

hii! i just wanna say you mentioning about 'healing your inner child' really touched my heart. like this is the biggest compliment i could ever get? thank you for telling me! i love you and i hope you like this <333

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Are you ready to play uno with me till 3am?” you grinned at Emily, your hand squeezing hers tightly.

Her own grin revealed that her answer would be positive, but she didn’t have the chance to actually reply. A tiny voice rushed to respond on her behalf.

“No!”

Aaron turned to look at his son with a surprised expression, watching him running to you and grabbing your hand that was holding Emily’s.

“Stay with me instead,” he whined. “Please, Y/N!”

It was endearing how attached Jack was to you. Just a few nights of babysitting to help out your boss were enough for the kid to consider you as one of his best friends. And of course the feelings were mutual.

Still, you weren’t sure how to respond. Jack accompanying his dad to a work trip was already unconventional, but the three of you sharing a room? It felt way too intimate for a boss, his kid, and his subordinate.

“Sweetie,” you said, squatting down so you could be face to face. “You’ll be staying with your dad.”

“There’s room for you too!”

You let out a sigh, unable to say no to the kid’s puppy eyes. Your own eyes searched for Aaron’s, finding him staring at your interaction amused. At least he wasn’t mad.

“Only if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable,” he said.

“Oh no, not at all,” you reassured him. Getting up, you took Jack’s hand and walked close to Hotch. “But are you sure you’re not uncomfortable?” you asked him quietly.

“Jack loves you. We’ll be happy to have you.”

“Okay then.” You gave him a sweet smile, and the two of you laughed at the sound of Jack cheering.

“Come here, little man,” you ordered Jack with one eyebrow raised, even though you both knew it was all very much an act.

“You said we’d play uno!”

“No, I said I’d play uno with Emily, who is a grown up and can stay up till late. You mister, should be sleeping already.

He pouted at your words but you wouldn’t have it. “Come here, and I’ll tell you as many bedtime stories as you want.”

“Promise?” he asked, stretching out his arm and raising his little finger.

You hooked yours with his, “Promise.”

Aaron was still in the shower when you and Jack crawled under the covers. You worried about making room for him, since you would all have to share one bed. The situation was so domestic and intimate; it felt as if you were a real family. A part of you wondered if that was the way things were meant to be.

Jack’s little head on your chest, shook the thoughts away and reminded you that there was a bedtime story waiting to be told. So you pulled him even closer to you, and started playing with his hair.

“Once upon a time there was a little country girl. Her mother had a little red riding hood made for her, so everybody called her Little Red Riding Hood…”

You weren’t sure how many stories it took for you and Jack to fall asleep. You hadn’t even realized you had fallen asleep until you felt some movement on the bed, which was Aaron struggling to get just a little bit of your shared blanket.

“Sorry,” you whispered as soon as you were awake enough to figure out what was happening.

“It’s okay. It’s too small for all three of us.”

“Yeah…” you said, feeling almost guilty.

“We should probably move closer so it can cover us better,” he suggested and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Just say you’re jealous and want cuddles too,” you teased him.

“Fine, busted,” he said, obviously not caring that you had found out his true motives. “Now both of you come here.”

He stretched out his arm and you and Jack were snuggled up in his embrace in no time.

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #ask #hotch 🪐

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crappymixtape · 5 months

Text

gold & glitter

REQUEST → @superblysubpar, A VERY MERRY MIXTAPE ❝ i’m thinking a little rich!steve harrington, a little spicy somethin, somethin and a holiday play – spicy is right, steve takes you to see the nutcracker, but you don’t even make it to the first act • 18+ | ( 3.1k – smut with a dash of fluff, rich!steve x reader )

G O L D & G L I T T E R 🎶 the nutcracker suite, tchaikovsky

“Good evening, Mister Harrington. Miss. May I take your jackets?”

“Thank you, Charles. Did you order the MacCallan Anniversary malt?”

“Of course, sir. It is available neat here from your decanter or we can dress up however you like. Miss, your jacket?”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you opened them again expecting the finery before you to disappear into thin air like a dream, but it didn’t.

“Oh ye-yeah. I mean-yes. Yes, thank you,” you stumbled over your words as the waitstaff took your coat and disappeared behind the curtain. God, you were working overtime to maintain the same level of calm and collected sophistication that seemed to come so easily to your date.

Steve Harrington. Son of John Harrington and heir to the Harrington fortune. One with a foundation built by generations of brokers and wealth managers. Carried on throughout the years to be passed down to the eldest or, in Steve’s case, the only son.

You’d been together for over a year now, but you still weren’t used to it. This lifestyle.

Going anywhere with him meant multiple planned routes in and out of your destinations. Private cars with dark tinted, bullet-proof windows. Black American Express cards, Gucci loafers, and champagne flown direct from the Garonne Valley in Bordeaux, France.

And of course, at Christmastime, a viewing of George Balanchine's The Nutcracker from a private balcony, performed by only the finest troupe at the New York City Ballet.

You’d been to the theatre, the opera, but never like this. A suite all to yourselves, up and away from prying eyes, and upon each seat rested a pair of exquisitely golden opera binoculars for your viewing pleasure. It felt otherworldly. Lush and dark, gilded and polished. Long, red, crushed velvet curtains draped heavy to the floor and on a small table thick, crystalline tumblers sat next to a matching decanter full of only the finest single malt whiskey.

Lifting a hand, you ghosted an immaculately manicured finger around the rim of one of the glasses.

“Is it up to your standards, honey?”

The low, warmth of Steve’s voice broke your trance and pulled your gaze quick to look up at him.

“What?” you wondered aloud, still surprised at how he could ask such questions, “My standards? God. It’s beautiful.”

“Good. M’glad you like it.”

A smile tugged up at the corner of his mouth as he watched you walk to lean out over the balcony and look down at the sea of seats below. You were wearing the emerald green dress he’d bought you especially for the occasion. Made of the finest silk and fitted tight against every curve and dip of your body. Your hair swept long over one shoulder, soft skin exposed through the keyhole cut into the back. You were exquisite.

And you were all his.

Tucking a hand into the pocket of his slacks he reluctantly looked away from you and took up the decanter to pour a measure of whiskey for himself. MacCallan, single malt, from 1928 and around three-hundred thousand dollars a bottle. Lifting the tumbler he inhaled deeply and let his eyes drift shut. Worth every single penny.

“Charles,” his voice notched up in volume and the man from earlier appeared through the thick, velvet curtains.

“Sir?”

“A bottle of Dom and a chilled glass,” Steve took a drink from his whiskey and let it sit on a his tongue for a moment before swallowing it down. “Oh, and my cigar case.”

“Sir, you know smoking isn’t permitted–”

Steve hummed, a low thrum in his throat, and stepped forward toward the other man.

“How much do I pay for these seats, Charles? How much does my family pay for these seats? Since the theatre opened in 1964…I’ll let you do the math,” he took another sip of whiskey and lifted a hand to smooth down the other man’s cravat, “My cigar case.”

“Yes. Of course, Mister Harrington,” the man replied quietly, eyes glued to the cheap, shiny black plastic of his dress shoes.

Steve put on a smile, the one he gave to clients when he knew he’d closed an account, and gripped the man’s shoulder, “Good man.”

And without another word Charles was off again through the curtain.

There was no denying it, Steve’s presence always held weight. Held power. No one could tell him no. Stood in boardrooms dressed to the nines. Gold heirloom cufflinks, custom tailored jackets and Tucci de Lusso oxfords included, but this version of him was different. Somehow more and you didn’t know how it was possible.

Brunette locks perfectly coiffed. Custom black Armani suit fitted tight across his chest and shoulders. Gold signet ring with his initials engraved upon it shining up from his index finger, and damn if his ass didn’t look incredible in those slacks.

You clicked your tongue at him and fixed him with a look, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Babe, he’s just trying to enforce the house rules,” smoothing a hand up his chest, you pretended to adjust his tie as an excuse to touch him.

“Honey, you and I both know who makes the rules around here,” he drawled, his tone making you weak in the knees, and he set his glass down in favor of taking hold of your waist. His hand wide and warm on the small of your back as he ran it down the curve of your ass and squeezed, pulling a gasp from your lips.

“Steve,” you chided, no heat behind it, and he dipped down to press a kiss to your neck.

“This really is your color,” he whispered in your ear and your eyes fluttered at the sound. Pressed your thighs together as he traced a finger across your exposed collarbone. Warmth blooming in your core as he followed the hem that chased along the edge of your shoulder.

“You’ve got good taste,” you whispered back, swallowing the moan that had crept up your throat and he grinned.

“I do, don’t I.”

“Sir, your cigar cas–oh!”

Charles came back through the curtain to find the two of you pressed into each other, Steve’s nose buried in the crook of your neck. Your cheeks burned at being caught.

“My sincerest apologies, sir! I should’ve–”

“S’alright,” Steve chuckled, pulling away from you to casually take the case from the other man without missing a beat. He reached into his money clip and slipped a hundred dollar bill into Charles’ hand, “Now. That will be all. If I need anything, I’ll ring you.” The finality of his words hung in the air.

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Excuse me,” and with that Charles disappeared again for what you were certain, after all that, would be the last time.

“Shit,” you breathed, cheeks still bright red as you bit back a laugh.

Steve was laughing too, but no where near embarrassed, and he grabbed your hand to pull you close to his chest again as the theatre lights flickered and slowly dimmed.

“Mmm, damn. Showtime,” he murmured softly into your hair.

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of having to sit so still, and so far from Steve for three hours, but then another thought came to you. One that made your cheeks flush again and you pressed your face into his lapel, breathing in the citrusy, cedar scent of his cologne.

Pulling away just enough to meet his gaze the expression you maintained was innocent, but the look in your eye wasn’t. It was dark and needy. Warm and flickering at the feeling of his hands on your waist.

“We could freshen up first,” you suggested quietly and as Steve put your words together his pupils blew wide. Pools of black edged in gold and he squeezed at the plush of your hip.

“Uh-huh,” came out strangled and it was all he could manage. Unable to focus on anything other than rucking that silk dress up around your thighs, and without hesitation he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the thick, velvet curtains.

The corridor was empty, Charles hiding wherever he’d rushed off to, and everyone else was in their seats to catch the opening act as Steve led you the short distance down the hall.

Luckily for you, the neighboring balcony’s ticket holders had filed for bankruptcy earlier in the year and now the restrooms on this wing were exclusively Steve’s. Doors crafted from thick oak and etched with breathtaking carvings of Swan Lake and Slyphide, they were heavy enough to drown out anything happening on the other side.

Thank god.

Ignoring the men’s and women’s signs, Steve chose the closest door and shouldered into it, bicep straining against the tight fabric of his shirt as he held muscled it open. It was a hurried mess, both of you tripping into the room on the train of your dress in a fit of giggles as Steve huffed a laugh and cursed under his breath.

“Baby.”

Heels clicking on the white granite tile floor, you regained your footing and finally took in all the exquisite details of the ornate room. Wide marble slabs. Bottles of lotion and perfume that cost more than your mortage. Gold fixtures shining in the low light falling from crystal chandeliers that refracted bright shards of color against the walls.

You would have appreciated the incredible beauty of it all, but Steve. You couldn’t have cared less and neither could he.

He spun you around to face him and hooked his arms behind the backs of your legs. Scooped you up off the ground and pulled a squeal from you as you held on tight around his neck to steady yourself.

Squeezing his hold on you, he freed an arm and swept it across the counter. Knocked the soap dish clattering into the sink basin and paid absolutely no attention to the lush basket of designer hand towels that fell to the floor as he lifted you with ease onto the marble surface.

“Steve,” you protested weakly and when he notched himself between your legs you felt yourself melt under him.

His hands were everywhere. Your waist, the small of your back, fingers pressing into your cheek and pushing your hair over your shoulder to drag messy, open-mouthed kisses against the skin there. It pulled a moan from your lips and at the sound he groaned into you.

“Christ, babe. I’ve wanted to get my hands on you since you climbed into the limo. Pretty as a fuckin’ picture in this thing. So damn hot. All for me, huh?”

“S’always for you,” you half-laughed, but it caught in your throat as he slipped a hand between your thighs, “God, Steve.”

“This for me too, honey?”

He gathered a handful of emerald green silk in one hand and pooled it at your waist as the cool air of the room sent a shiver up your spine. Then he caught sight of the black lace panties hugging tight against you and sucked in a breath. Bit down on his bottom lip and looked like he might cry.

“You’re gonna kill me with these. Are you kiddin’ me? Baby. Look at this,” he babbled, just standing there not touching you and you grabbed hold of his wrist and tugged him back into you.

“Talk too much,” you murmured against his ear, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and dragging your nails against his skin, “It’s all yours…Mister Harrington.”

And fuck if the dress and panties weren’t enough, the sound of your voice wrapped around his name did him in.

“Damn right it is.”

He growled as you tugged on his hair, slipped his hand back between your legs and tugged the thin fabric of your panties aside. The way he had been kissing and talking at you out on the balcony had been plenty to send you pressing your thighs together, but the way he was handling you in here had you soaked.

His fingers slipped in your slick as he felt just how wet you were and he smirked against your skin as he dragged his lips up to your jawline. Tutting softly he slowly circled your clit, his other hand moving to wrap gently around the column of your throat.

“Bet you want me to talk now, huh honey? You want that? Talk dirty to you?” his voice was barely above a whisper as his fingers slid down to press against your entrance.

You swallowed against the hand he had on your throat, your lips dropping open into a perfect little ‘o’ as you squirmed against the counter, impatient for him.

“Uh-huh,” you breathed and he smirked at how he had you wrapped around his finger, literally as he slid one into you.

“That’s my girl. I know what you like, don’t I? Give you everything you need. Take care of you, hm?” he babbled, kissing and sucking at the hollow behind your ear as he began to slide his finger in and out, in and out. A slow drag at first before adding a second finger and pulling a moan from your lips.

“Good care of me,” fell out mindlessly as he gently tightened the hand on your throat making your heartbeat thud in your ears.

“This isn’t enough though, is it? Not enough. Want me to fill you up, don’t you honey?” he whispered and you nodded, your throat too tight to speak, and god you wanted him to make you see stars.

He pulled his hand from between your legs to undo the button on his pants and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes at the loss of his touch.

“Shh, I got you, baby,” he coaxed, pulling down his zipper and reaching in to free his rock hard cock.

It sprang out of his pants without any encouragement and he wrapped a hand around it. Rubbed it against your slit as it practically cried in anticipation and as he slowly pushed himself into you it made you sucked in a rasp of a breath.

“Steve,” you begged and he moved his hand to grip your thigh.

“I know, baby.”

An inch more and he was into you up to the hilt. Filling you so much that you could feel the tip pressing against the spot only he could reach. Easing out he groaned as you clenched down on him before pushing back in and he set the pace there. A slow drag. In, out. In, out.

The wet sounds coming from you as he fucked you slowly were obscene. Made louder by the empty room, but you didn’t care. You wanted more.

“Harder,” you pleaded. He wanted it too and as he looked down at the sight of his cock sliding into your cunt he nearly lost it.

Letting go of your throat he grabbed onto your other thigh for purchase and pulled you to the very edge of the counter. Picked up the pace and started fucking you faster, the slap, slap, slap of his thighs against yours filling the air.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Feel so good. You like that? Huh? Want more?”

“More–shit. Yes, god. More, Steve.”

Your knuckles were white with how hard you were gripping the counter, moans falling freely from your lips now as Steve pushed you both closer and closer to climax. You could feel the coil tightening in your stomach as he squeezed into the plush of your thighs and your hand flew up to grab at the back of his neck.

“Gonna–ugh–come, baby. Come with me, baby,” he said through gritted teeth, jaw ticking when he clenched down, and as he rocked his hips back into you, you both came.

Your orgasm wrapped around you tight. White hot. Electric. Every inch of you buzzing and sparking like fireworks on the fourth of July and you cried out as his thrusts fell out of sync, jerky and messy as he came down.

A soft thud echoed against the tile as your head fell back against the mirror behind you, beads of sweat holding your hair messy across your forehead. Steve leaned into you, rested his head on your chest, and slowly your breaths evened out.

Your lips twitched with a smile, your hand lifting to cover your mouth as you held back a laugh, and Steve seemed to have the same thought as he chuckled against your dress.

“Someone heard us. For sure,” you finally said, voice crackly from breathing so hard.

“And? Who gives a shit. Maybe we just gave them a good idea,” Steve grinned, looking up at you from where he rested his chin on your belly.

You swatted at him, gasping as he pulled out of you to avoid getting hit.

Bending down, Steve grabbed a couple of the hand towels from where they’d landed on the tile and ran warm water on them. Quickly cleaned himself up and then took his time with you. Paid close attention to where he’d held onto your throat. Where his fingertips pressed into your thighs. Dabbed softly across your forehead and spent extra time on the mess between your legs.

You touched up your makeup and perfume, adjusted Steve's tie and hair, and when you both finally emerged from the bathroom the piece the orchestra was playing reached a crescendo and the theatre filled with applause.

It couldn’t be the end of the first act?

Steve walked you easy back to the balcony and held the heavy velvet curtain open for you. Your gilded opera binoculars were still sitting perfectly upon your seat where you’d left them and the bottle of chilled Dom Perignon was on ice along with a champagne flute – you hated whiskey.

You both sank into your seats as the orchestra began to play again and you recognized the piece and shot Steve a look.

“The party scene just started,” you whispered, “We’re not even out of the first part of act one.”

“Christ,” he groaned, grinning into his hands as he rubbed them across his face. Then, glancing over at you he grabbed his cigar box, “We can always make up for it next year. Right?”

Your eyes grew wide.

“Skip the Nutcracker?” you asked incredulously and he quirked a brow at you.

“Yeah. Skip it and we’ll go catch part two of the bathroom scene at mine,” he said giving you a wicked grin and you feigned shock, your own grin threatening to shatter your facade.

“Mister Harrington, what would your mother say?”

And the look he gave you then was the absolute definition of smug.

“My Stevie boy always gets what he wants.”

And damn if she wasn’t right about that.

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cryptidclaw · 8 months

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Oooh can you summarize who are Squirrelcrow kits and who are LeafMoth kits? The family tree doesn't fully load on my phone and tumbler's search feature doesn't load every post for me ;o; Also does Breezepelt exist in this AU? Who are his parents and is he still with the DF? O:

I get asked about this a lot so I decided to make a simple family tree for the fire fam! Hopefully this helps! I’m going to add this image to the master post so ppl can find it too!

Written explanation:

Holly is a SquirrelCrow kit. Jay and Falcon (lion) are MothPool’s. The two sisters had their kits pretty much on the same day so Squirrel was able to raise all three together as siblings!

Mothpool also had a daughter, Dove, in Jay and Falcon’s litter but she died soon after birth, she was reincarnated (a second time since she is one of the 3) as Dovesong!

Nightcloud is Crow’s older sister and Breeze is her son and Crow’s nephew!

Alder and Spark were born to SquirrelCrow after Squirrel moved to Wind Order and they are raised in Wind!

…

Also I haven’t designed Night and Breeze sooo they are simply plain colors :P

#cryptid answers #cryptidclaw's warriors au #rise of change #firestar family tree #longfiresand #longfire #firesand #squirrelcrow #mothpool #warriors

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rainydayandmondays · 4 months

Text

Secret Santa is Coming....

Summary: Time for the Secret Santa gift exchange and Andy knows you deserve only the best gift. And who says it can’t be a gift for both of you.

Pairing: Andy Barber X Reader, Jake Jensen

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+ only. Explicit language, explicit sexual content, male masturbation, female masturbation, voyeurism, Daddy kink, slight non-con

Author’s Note: A follow up to the Thanksgiving Potluck. I don’t think Andy is okay with just a one-shot with his sweet girl.

“Mr. Barber.”

Andy looked up to see you standing just inside his doorway. Your hands dropping to be held in front of you, he watched as you momentarily shifted from foot to foot. You were uneasy and that should never be how you feel around him. He dropped the affidavit he had been reading back to his desk, before rolling his shoulders, and sitting back in his chair. Something had you skittish and he wouldn’t have that.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

You bow your head at the nickname, your bashful reaction to it would never get old with him. However, he did try to use it sparingly. Waiting until you two were mostly alone, he would softly say it and watch you smile before catching yourself.

“Can I talk to you about something?” You looked at him, your brow furrowing as you waited for his response. Something was wrong. He could feel his own unease build up the longer he watched you, your fingers now fidgeting in front of you.

“Is that even a question? Of course, you can,” He gestured to the seat in front of him.

You seemed to loosen up at his response, your hands dropping the gripped hold you had them in. Turning to close the door behind you, you gave him a small hopeful smile before taking the offered seat.

He continued to sit back, despite wanting to inch closer to you. You were calmer now and he didn’t want to break you from that peace that you had regained, “What’s going on?”

You took a quick inhale before asking your question, “Are you the one leaving coffee on my desk every morning?"

The coffee. You knew about the coffee. After Thanksgiving, he hadn’t wanted to give up the feeling he felt watching you enjoy him so much. He embraced the flashes of you licking your lips after finishing his potluck offering. They would keep him busy popping up over the long holiday weekend.

Laurie had ordered in catering for their family meal. Things were starting to pick up for her at work as they entered the holiday season. Buying everything and then cooking the turkey dinner wasn’t something she was willing to take on. Instead, they had pulled the plastic containers from the takeaway bag, quickly heating them up before sitting down to the saddest Thanksgiving meal. Thoughts of you were the only thing that pulled him out his funk to start pulling down Christmas decorations from the attic.

He decided that weekend that he would find a way to share that with you again. Your friend may have thrown out that thinly veiled threat, but he would find a way around it. Returning to the office after the holiday, he decided to keep his ritual to his nightly shower. No more parking garage camera feed for your noisy friend to make noise about. He found if he worked late enough, by the time he got home, there would be no one up to ask why he took a tumbler with him to shower.

Filling up his trusty tumbler every night, he would grab it from the refrigerator each morning as he waved goodbye to a wife and son who seemed to be more enthralled with their phones than anything he was doing. Heading to the local coffee shop after his morning swim, he would sit in his car adding his special ingredient to the small light roast brew with double espresso shots and half and half.

Making sure to get in as early as possible, he would leave the cup of coffee on your desk before hustling to his office. He had done so for the last week, a smirk lighting up his face when you brought the cup to the weekly team debrief for the latest cases. But now you knew it was him. He should have known you would figure it out.

Trying his best to not react to your question, he pulled on all his skills to keep the best poker face. He could come up with a reason for it that wouldn’t return you to that ball of nerves that had stood in his doorway.

He cleared his throat before responding, “You caught me. I know the late nights you have been putting in. That can’t be easy to do and then only to go home and help your parents. Figured you might need something to look forward to.”

You hummed at his explanation, looking down before returning your gaze to him, “That’s very kind, Mr. Barber. Sweet even. It’s just…people like to talk. I’ve worked so hard. And I don’t want anyone to think that I got anything because of…because of anything else other than work.”

Your eyes had continued to flit between him and your hands in your lap as you spoke. He could tell that you had thought through your small speech, probably even prepped yourself on your drive in. He also knew that one of the office gossips had gotten to you. He was selfish and he wanted the moments with you but not at the risk of you feeling uncomfortable.

Leaning against the desk, he looked at you straight on, expressing as much empathy as possible, “Understood. No more coffees.”

Your shoulders finally came down from around your ears and you sighed, nodding back in thanks.

“Thank you, Mr. Barber,” you replied before rising to walk towards his office door. He wanted to correct you. Remind you to call him Andy. However, he figured it was best not to push his luck. Watching you push the wrinkles from your skirt as you walked away, he called back to you, “I don’t want you worrying about this or what anyone may say, okay?”

Stopping to look over your shoulder, you reached to grab at your necklace, “I won’t.”

“Promise me?” He smirked as you continued to twiddle with the gold chain.

“I promise,” you answered as he nodded for you to leave.

With the click of his door closing, he looked down at his desk, saving your promise to his memory. He’ll use it later tonight.

Holding the slip of paper in his hands, your name neatly scrawled across it, he smiled to himself. A couple of people in the office decided to put together a Secret Santa exchange. Apparently, the Thanksgiving potluck was such a success when it came to team building, the higher ups agreed to the next holiday activity. Even had HR sign off on it.

Andy had been in court when the bag of names had been passed around. He didn’t give it much thought. Since your stop in his office a week ago, he had kept his distance. It wasn’t something that he wanted in the slightest. But he was willing to respect your genuine worry about office gossip. No more tumblers, no more early coffee runs. The research requests still happened but always through the weekly team huddle.

However, now seeing your name chosen for him, he had to smile to himself. Of course, it would be you that he would get. Of course, him trying to keep his distance would mean you finding a way back to him.

He sat down, leaning his chin in his hands, “Okay, sweet girl. I understand.”

The office had pretty much cleared out with most people starting their holiday vacations. The last few streamers from the small Christmas luncheon had been balled up and chucked in the bin, when Andy made his way out to the bull pin. You were waving off the last of the other paralegals as you collected your stuff to make your own way home.

“Hey sweetheart,” he saw you jump a little before turning to him.

You had worn a red Christmas sweater with a white bow handstitched along the collar. Your normal pencil skirt had been replaced by a pair of black slacks. And although not his favorite, the pants had done wonders for your ass. He had watched as you moved around the office putting up the last-minute decorations, only to take them down.

“Hi Andy.” You replied turning and looking up at him from your office chair. He caught the small smile that wanted to break free at your utterance of his name. That was good, you were comfortable around him again.

Clearing his throat, he brought the gift bag from behind his bag, presenting it to you, “Merry Christmas.”

“So, you were my Secret Santa,” you smirked looking at the packed gift bag he had hastily bought from the Walgreens down the street.

“It’s a three-part gift,” he answered, nodding towards it and urging you to open it.

Taking the stuffed tissue paper from the top you reached in pulling out a pink tumbler. You let out a small giggle, “For my coffee?”

He fully smiled this time, before shrugging his shoulders and pointing to the remaining items in the gift bag. Putting down the tumbler, you turned back to the bag, reaching the bottom of it, you pulled out a wooden paper weight. Carved into the center was the seal for Boston College Law School. Your brow creased as you tried to piece together the meaning of the gift. He watched as you finally looked back to him, your look pleading for an answer.

“That’s the second part. An old college buddy of mine is the registrar. I told him about a paralegal that had aced her LSATs, had helped on numerous high profile ADA cases, but hadn’t had the chance to enroll yet.” He looked on as the puzzle started to come together in your mind. Your brow creased further as tears started to line your eyelashes.

“They have grant funds set aside every year for students that display great potential. He took care of everything. You can enroll whenever you’re ready. There will be a space for you. That’s the third part.” He whispered the last of his explanation. The tears that had been threatening to fall now ran fully down your cheeks.

“Oh my God. Thank you.” You jumped from your chair, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

Initially taken by surprise, he hesitated momentarily before letting his body relax into your hold. His hands landing on your back as you sniffled into his dress shirt and whispered quiet thank you’s in his ear. He threw up his own thanks at the office being empty. Something tells him that you may have restrained yourself more with an audience.

Starting to feel you pull away, he resisted the urge to cling to you. It had been a while since Andy had a genuine hug. He had been mostly regulated to side hugs with Laurie. Every once in a while, it would include a kiss to the cheek. And Jacob, well he was fully rooted in his teen years and any idolization that he might have had for his dad had been long gone. He would only get quick nods of recognition from over the top of the phone from his son. But now with you, he could feel the heat of your body, the small catches in your breath as you tried to regulate your outburst. This was something he couldn’t give up.

“I’m so sorry. That’s not very professional of me. It’s just…this means so much to me.”

Your tearful smile at him tempted him to bring you back into his embrace. To just hold you as all the happy tears flowed out of you.

You giggled again, shaking your head, “I have to tell my parents. I have to…”

He nodded at you, seeing all the possibilities run through your mind. He had opened doors for you. Had given you a better future. Had put that delighted smile on your face. He had done that. You quickly began to pack up your remaining things, yesterday’s brief stuffed in with your laptop. Turning to him again, you smiled again grabbing onto his forearm and squeezing.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas Andy.”

“Can you believe it, Jake? I can enroll whenever I’m ready. There’s a space just waiting for me.” You talked animatedly to your best friend as you placed the carved paperweight on your bookcase. It would sit perfect with your old undergrad books and picture of Jake and you from your graduation.

“That’s amazing, Ace! So, he just called a friend and got this all sorted out?” Jake asked facetiming you from his room.

He had suspicions about your kind of boss since before meeting him Thanksgiving. You had mentioned how many late nights you had been spending at the office recently and how walking out at night gave you the heebie-jeebies. The protector within him woke up immediately at that, ready to offer to pick you up if he needed to. You would never ask him to do that yourself. That’s when you brought up Andy Barber and how he started walking you out.

It hadn’t taken Jake long to dig up information on the ADA. He had the white picket fence life, although there wasn’t too much about his past listed. That was the first red flag. Hacking into the courthouse’s camera feed had been relatively easy. These older government buildings never bothered upping their security.

Andy Barber always parked in one of the garage’s blind spots. That would be the second red flag. After you left, Andy wouldn’t be seen exiting until half an hour later. What could he possibly be doing in a parked car for thirty minutes? That was the final red flag.

“His friend is the registrar at the school. He was able to work it out. What?” Sitting down on your bed, you leaned back looking at Jake on your phone. He was making his slightly worried puppy dog face.

“It’s just that’s a lot to get coordinated so fast.”

“Why can’t you just be happy for me, Jake?” You asked only to see Jake’s face immediately deflate. The worried puppy dog look morphing to kicked puppy. His eyes widening behind his glasses.

“Of course, I’m happy for you Ace. It’s just that you’re too trusting sometimes.”

“I’m not a child,” you grumbled back, and Jake wanted to jump through the phone and ease your anger.

“You’re not. You’re a person with a good heart that wants to believe the best in people,” he saw the crease in your brow ease as he spoke, “And that’s why I gotta look out for you.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide your small smile at Jake’s statement. From the first moment he had run into on his skateboard, knocking both of you over in the quad in college, he had looked out for you.

“When do you come back?”

“Why? Do you already miss me?” You watched Jake wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, causing a round of giggles to erupt from you. He pretended to be hurt by your outburst before continuing, “Probably not until the new year.”

You hummed, sitting back up, Jake and you sat in silence as he watched the disappointment take over your expression. He searched for a way to get you to smile again when he heard the knock at the door. Quickly looking back at the door, he breathed a sigh of relief seeing he had locked it.

“I gotta go, Ace.” He watched you nod a short okay, before finally getting up from your bed.

“I miss you.” “I miss you too, Jake.”

Andy sat down at the desk in his home office. Neck stretched back along the back of the chair, as he thought back on the last couple of hours since getting home. Walking in, he noticed all the lights were off, not even the Christmas tree in the den was lit. Disengaging the alarm, he made his way into the kitchen to see a sticky note stuck to the fridge. Laurie had to go back into the office to finalize the preparations for the end of the year gala, while Jacob spent the night at a friend’s. So much for family time.

Putting an order into the local Italian place, he went upstairs to change out of his work clothes. He contemplated jumping in the shower, until he heard the doorbell ring with his takeout. Turning on the tree in the den, he ate his pasta dish with only the twinkling Christmas lights on. What had his life become? What had his family become?

Dropping the to-go containers in the trash, he wandered back to his office. He thought about powering up his laptop and finishing the closing remarks for one of his cases, when he found the holiday favors that you had passed around the office this morning. Your red sweater on, you greeted everyone with such joy for the upcoming holiday. He couldn’t help but smile up at you, as you left the favor on his desk.

You were a sweetheart. His sweetheart. His sweet girl. He rubbed along his bottom lip as he remembered your reaction to his gift. The hug had surprised him. But fuck if he hadn’t loved every minute of it. He didn’t even mind the soft sniffling you made as your tears stained his tie. He had made those tears.

Opening his iPad, he logged into the recently downloaded program. Would you have already told everyone about what he had done for you? Would you have passed around the carved seal of your new school for everyone to admire? Would you have put it in a place of pride? He wasn’t sure, but it couldn’t hurt to check.

Finishing entering the credentials, he watched as his screen came to life and he saw your bedroom space. It was cheerful like you, with multiple pillows adorning your bed and bursts of color in the pictures you hung on your walls. He devoured the scene, greedily taking in everything he could see, when he heard the click of the bedroom door. The small camera was powerful and could zoom 10x but was stationary in the middle of the school seal.

He waited, hearing you hum a Christmas song along the with opening and closing of drawers off camera and the tossing of a bath towel on the bed. Finally making your way into view, he saw your silk two-piece set. The navy-blue pajama top with white piping along seams hugged your tits. Your free tits, there’s no way you were still wearing a bra with the way your nipples poked through. And the shorts that accompanied it, covered the curve of your ass, but he watched as they inched up as you started to turn down the bed.

He shifted in his seat as he set the iPad to lean against the monitor stand on his desk. Widening his legs and easing back into his chair, he adjusted himself. He hadn’t had a chance for his nightly ritual. But seeing you now, he was happy to see he would have new things to add to his memory. You always knew how to take care of him. His sweet girl.

After setting most of the pillows aside, you climbed into bed, reaching over for your earbuds and phone. He couldn’t tell what you were listening to but judging by the content smile on your face, it must be good. He watched as you closed your eyes, listening to whatever was piping through your earbuds. Reaching down, he rubbed himself through his pajama bottoms. Nothing too aggressive, just softest of touches. The kind he always imagined you would give him. Always delicate and soft at the start.

He sighed to himself as he watched you, “My sweet girl.”

Lost in the moment, he didn’t catch you shifting at first. However, looking back at the screen, he saw your hand move to your top. You let out a small sigh as your fingers started to flick at your nipple, rolling it between your fingers. He frantically sat up, engaging the zoom function to watch up close. Your nipples were amazing, and he knew given the chance he would lap at them, giving them little bites to see you squirm. Your eyes were closed, breathing harsher, as you played with your tits.

“Play with her tits, sweet girl. Show me how sensitive they are,” He whispered as he took full hold of himself. After hitting his fist on the underside of the desk, he pushed back from it to make room for his hand as he continued to slide up and down his shaft.

He could hear the little sighs you were making as they started to get louder. He knew you would be vocal. You would tell him everything that made you feel good. Both your hands covered your tits while the buttons of your shirt lay open from where you had torn it open to get your hands in.

“Jesus, you’re going to be the death of me.” He squeezed around the tip before breaking contact with the screen to spit down onto himself. At feel of his warm saliva, that winking eye dribbled out onto self.

Hearing shifting, he looked back to find you grabbing one of the pillows you hadn’t bothered to put aside. Now, what were you doing now? He watched as you grabbed the forgotten towel still at the foot of your bed. Placing the pillow in the middle of the bed, you draped the towel over it before swinging a leg over and straddling the setup.

“Fuck me. Take what you need, sweet girl.” He grunted as you started to rock back and forth on the pillow.

Your hips started a natural rhythm, one hand still pawing at your tit while the other held you steady on your perch. As he looked on, the more he dribbled out on his hand, and he finally reached down pushing his pants and underwear off. His ass was momentarily cold on the leather of the seat, but he couldn’t be bothered to care as you kept humping your pillow.

“Daddy.”

Andy nearly swallowed his tongue when he heard your whisper. Your bottom lip now caught between your teeth as you whined.

“Daddy is here. Fuck, I’m right here.” He fisted himself, finally dropping to grab onto his balls and rolling them in his palm.

“Daddy, please.” You mewled out your whimper and he had to grab tight at his base to avoid blowing his load right then and there. You were close, but fuck him, if he missed it by losing it first.

“What do you need, sweet girl? What do you need from daddy?”

“Daddy, I can’t.”

How could you answer him? You had to know. His sweet girl was so smart, she could figure anything out. You had to know he was here. That he could see you. That he was watching you. You were doing this for him.

“Yes, you can. Daddy says you can. I’ll even count down. Five.”

You stuttered slightly before picking up your pace again.

“Four.”

He tightened his grip, corkscrewing his hand on each trip up.

“Three.”

Your breathing was getting harsher as you brought down your other hand, using both to steady you as your hips rolled.

“Two.”

He was almost there. His balls had already started to pull up as he planted his feet to thrust into his fist.

“One. Come on, my sweet girl. Come for daddy.”

He nearly lost it, as you threw your head back, mouth gaping in a silent cry, and the rest of your body spasming. Fucking his hand, he watched as a gush of liquid flew out of you, wetting the towel beneath.

“Oh fuck. Such a good girl. Such a good, fucking sweet girl.”

Standing up, he aimed for the screen as he lost it on the image of his sweet girl squirting for him. He twitched and continued to rub out every ounce he had for her. For once, he didn’t think about it going to waste. It hadn’t, not with what you had given him tonight.

Bracing against the edge of the desk, he flopped back into his chair, as you rolled off your pillow completely drained.

“Thank you, daddy.” You gave one final whisper before peeling off your pajama shorts and grabbing the covers to go to sleep.

“You’re more than welcome, sweet girl. Rest now.”

Andy watched you snuggle into bed, returning to the woman he knew from the office. No longer the horned up, little one that just needed her daddy to take care of her. Taking a tissue from the console behind him, he wiped himself down before wiping the screen and desk. Pulling his boxers and pajama pants back up, he started to log out of the camera’s app, when a dialog box popped up, asking to save or delete recording.

He hesitated only for a moment, before clicking save.

Maybe these work holiday functions weren’t the worst thing in the world.

@sarahdonald87

@buckybarnesisdaddy

@theinheriteddutchess

@welp-heregoessomething

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #andy barber fanfiction #dark andy barber #defending jacob #jake jensen #the losers (2010)#the holidays with andy

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krav3nn · 10 months

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Tokio hotel head canon: getting a pet and naming it after them

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

⚝ BILL KAULITZ ⚝

➦ when you told him you told him you had a surprise for him he was very excited

➦ but when you came in there with a puppy?!?! He jumps up and down LIKE HE DID IN THE “jumbie” VIDEO (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )

➦ he would be so thankful and happy, he’d just run up to you and kiss all over your face playfully and then go to grab the puppy

➦ he’d sit on the floor and play with the puppy, using a baby voice when he speaks to the dog while you’re just there admiring him

➦ when he asked the dogs name and you said “billy” he literally DIEDD!! he looked at you with the softest face ever and started to tear up

➦ the dog LOVES bill and bill treats the puppy like his son, you guys are like a cute little family with Billy!

☠︎︎TOM KAULITZ☠︎︎

➦ when you told him you had a surprise he was kinda suspicious, tom being Tom, he would immediately think you were gonna show him somthing sexual

➦ when you showed him a CAT?! All I can say is pickachu surprised face. My man was SHOCKED.

➦ His rough exterior immediately broke and he ran to you to hold the cat.

➦he asked it’s name while looking at the cat and holding it like a baby.

➦ when you said tommie he looked at the cat with adoration

➦ Tommie, that’s…thats fucking adorable” tom would say as he would lift up the cat, Simba style. Tommie is toms DAUGHTER! he’d hold her like a little baby :,3

𝄞 GEORG 𝄞

➦ you walked into you and George’s house where tokio hotel was preforming with a dog kennel.

➦ when Georg saw the kennel, he looked at you like, “ what did you do 🤨”

➦ when you finally broke the news that you got him a DOG?! bro was very excited, though he wouldn’t show it. He just had a sweet smile on his face but in his head he was doing backflips

➦ he would be like “who’s a good boyy~!” “You’re such a cutie.” But then he asked the dogs name.

➦ quiet literally fell to his knees on the floor, died, was resurrected then died again. He gasped like 100 times. “GEORGIE?!?! that’s so cute 🥲”

➦ He would give you so many “thank you’s” and kisses. He’d be so so happy and thankful. He loves his baby’s.

☾GUSTAV ☽

➦ he was just chilling on the couch when you came in and ran to y’all’s shared bedroom. He’d be so confused. Normally you kissed him and said hi before you went to y’all’s room

➦ when you came out and grabed his hands and lead him to y’all’s bedroom with an excited smile.

➦ you put your hands in front of his eyes and walked him in the room

➦ baby boy was in LOVE with the cat when he saw it. When he did see the cat he cooed and started tearing up

➦ He wanted to know it’s name right away. And when you said “Gustavee” he looked at you like “☺️🤔😦😭” when I tell you he BALLED his eyes out, he did

➦little baby feels so loved and special that you named yalls cat after him. He just put the cat in this lap and cried. It’s safe to say he was so protective of Gustavee.

➦ when other tokio hotel members come over and pick up and and pet her, he’s like, “be careful!” “Be gentle y’all she’s fragile 😠”

————————————————————————

Thank you, @billkaulitzishot for requesting!!!

IM SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG, my fucking screen time went off and I couldn’t access tumbler. But my mom doesn’t know that I can disable it past 12 am so 🗿

#bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #georg listing #georg listing x reader #gustav schäfer #gustav schafer x reader #tokio hotel x reader

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besaya-glantaya · 7 months

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In an attempt to exorcise these thoughts from my brain (this movie has taken up residence in my soul), here is an incomplete list of the things I notice and love in Red White and Royal Blue.

1. Henry staring in utter disbelief at the frosting-covered whiskey tumbler Alex plops distractedly into his hand whilst pawing ineffectually at the mess all over Henry's shoulder. Comedy gold.

2. Nora pretending she doesn't know either of them and hiding her face as they scuffle in front the cake.

3. How Alex has Henry literally in his pocket while talking turkey.

4. During Henry's "what does it mean" crisis talk over The Kiss, the entire scene is dressed in bi flag colours. Nora is in pink, Alex in blue, with a purple poster in the background.

5. The soft "whoa" of the white house staffer, who walks into Nora's office just in time to hear her ask Alex: "How many guys have you been with?" She hesitates, stunned, and then looks as if she'd like the ground to open up and swallow her now, thank you very much.

6. His Royal Hardness making flustered small talk with the UK Prime Minister and the US President, while the FSOTUS goes in for a cheeky squeeze. You ridiculous, giddy, fools.

7. Ellen's exasperated "my son thinks he's a fucking comedian" look in reply to Alex's "The night is young, Ma" and his shit eating grin, before diplomatically, and very sensibly, removing the British PM from the vicinity of these two horny idiots.

8. Alex's warm and teasing delivery of "Are they known for their homosexual tendencies?" after Henry says he's "as gay as a maypole." Boy is smitten.

9. When Henry invites Alex to the charity polo match, his initial awkward nerves transition to fond derision when Alex's tells him, crestfallen, that he doesn't know how to play polo. Bless.

10. Henry on a horse. Very much in agreement with Alex on this one.

11. The interleaved editing of the polo match and tack room shenanigans. It reminds me strongly of the interlaced 'what if' scene in Steven Sodenburg's Out of Sight, which is executed at a far slower pace but delivers that same feel of two people being inexorably drawn to each other, almost as if events are fated to happen.

12. The lighting in the Paris cafe scene. God damn those are two beautiful men.

13. Henry's gleefuly bashful admission of innuendo in the Paris cafe. He's just given Alex his full Royal name, but its Henry Fox that's in control here and he's revelling in bringing every moment of his inner fantasies to life.

14. The heartbreaking disconnect between their two perspectives in the Paris walk scene.

That's some bullshit

It's my life

Doesn't mean you have to accept it

Alex has spent his life pushing defiantly against societal expectations. Henry has spent his life weighed down by them, isolated in a way that Alex only barely grasps.

15. I wish, with all my heart, that the fairytale political landscape of this movie was real.

16. The entirety of the morning after scene in the hotel room during the DNC is perfection and Zahra is the MVP. Matthew Lopez said he had no idea he was going to get that mini panic attack from Sarah Shahi and kudos to Sarah for that perfomance. Inspired.

17. How quickly and assertively Alex say "No" to Zarah's "would it make any difference if I told you not to see him again?"

18. The way Zarah says "Everytime I see you, it takes another year off my life." This phrase plays on loop in my brain during shitty work meetings.

19. The coming out scene with Alex and his Mom. A joyous balm for those of us who never got to experience that with our own parents.

20. Forehead touches. Ugh.

21. My brother in Christ, sharpen your knives Oscar, what did that pepper do to deserve that?

22. The catatonic state of sadness that Henry exists in after swimming away from Alex. My heart hurts.

23. The pride flags in the crowd outside Buckingham Palace. Again, can we all have this universe, pretty please?

24. The way Henry takes Alex's hand with such ease in public after the election win. If only Paris Henry could see you now.

[Exorcism sequel here]

#red white and royal blue #prince henry rwrb #rwrb film #rwrb thoughts #alex claremont diaz #rwrb #first prince #henry fox #red white and royal blue movie #myrwrbthoughts

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sachiko1309 · 7 months

Text

Let the poor woman come

Summary: some smut, but not too detailed, a surprise visit ;)

Generally this is just some short drabble from my story "The prophecy of the elvish warrior - a Haldir love story" which ccan be found on Wattpad and Ao3 (account name in my tumbler description) have fun with it 😉🥰

Word count: 1164

Warnings: smut, threesome, female orgasm, surprise visit from the elven daddy himself 😉 (but its mostly our blond warriors) Minors DNI !!!

Translation: hûn nin = my heart

I was completely bare between the two men. After our talk with Thranduil, they proceeded to rid me of my clothes and now here I was. Sitting on Haldirs lap, his cock deeply sheathed into my core, my legs spread by his strong thighs. Legolas kneeling in front of me, edging me. I was a quivering mess, sweat and slick sticking to my body, but it didn’t look like either of the elves cared. Haldir had stopped thrusting into me, just relishing my twitching pussy around his cock, leaving it up to Legolas to pull another orgasm from my body.

“So beautiful.” He murmured in my ear. “Do you like Legolas making you cum, meleth?” I let out another strangled moan, when Legolas finger danced over my clit. “Answer us, meleth. Tell us how good we make you feel.” Haldir pressed on, gripping my hips tighter, when I clenched around his cock. “Good!” I whined. “So good…”

A knock on the door interrupted us. “Yes?” Legolas answered, his voice sounding like he didn’t just finger me. To my fearful surprise the door opened and closed again. A light ‘thump’ indicated someone leaned against the wooden frame. Luckily the room we stayed in was rounding a corner, so from where the door was placed, you were unable to see the fireplace and bed. Legolas lips contorted in a devilish smile, when he started to stroke my clit again. From behind Haldir snuck a hand around my mouth to keep me from making a sound.

“I wondered…” My eyes went wide, when I realized it was Thranduil, who was standing there. “… whether it would be possible for you to help me organize a few things regarding the kingdom.” Slowing down his movement, to keep me from cumming, Legolas answered: “Of course, Adar. What exactly needs to be discussed?” The elven king sighted. “Ah just the way we intend to keep our borders safe. The war has strained our armies and as far as I am concerned the spiders did not seem to have gained as many casualties as we did.”

My muffled cry, forced Thranduil to stop mid explanation, but after a few seconds he kept on talking: “As well I want to show my apology by inviting you, Haldir and Visha to Mirkwood. I guess since the three of you are content to make this relationship work, I might as well invite her and the Commander to Mirkwood.”

“See it as done, Adar.” Legolas answered, not letting my face out of his sight. I was now twitching and panting from how close my orgasm was and I wondered why Thranduil didn’t pick on the tension and noises in the room. But my hopes were soon shattered on the ground, when the king spoke again: “Thank you, my son.” I heard him turn around, opening the door. “Ah and another thing. Let the poor woman cum. I am afraid the whole realm is yearning for her release.” Legolas chuckled between my legs, signaling for Haldir to take away his hand. “I will. Don’t worry.” Then, he circled my clit with the uttermost sinful touch, he ever used, pushing me over the edge. Even though I didn’t hear Thranduil leave the room, I couldn’t help myself. A loud moan, ripping from my chest, ringing through the room.

“Thank you.” Was the last thing I heard, before the door fell into its hinges. The sound shuttering through my body, freeing the insanity of what just happened.

“I fucking hate you!” I exclaimed. My breath still irregular. Legolas got up from his knees. “No, you love us.”

“Why did you do this? He is your father!” I asked, feeling something between arousal and embarrassment. “I will never be able to look him in the eye!” This had Legolas smirk again. “He was the one, prying on our intimate life. I guess he got what he wanted. Besides don’t tell me, you didn’t like it. I could see it in your eyes. The fear of being caught just went straight to your filthy little pussy, didn’t it?”

I gasped at his boldness, unsure what to say. He was right. I enjoyed the thrill of it, but I didn’t expect him to be this bold.

“Don’t worry hûn nin*. My father was never one to let people go against his believes and rules. If he really had a problem of engaging us in this situation, he would have waited. You know, elven hearing can be a big asset deciding whether to enter a room or not.” Legolas smiled at me, making his way to the bed, ridding him from the rest of his clothes.

Then he proceeded to take a seat on the broad bed in front of us. “Ride him.” Was all he said, slowly stroking his hard cock in his hand. I was stunned at his sudden change in demeanor. Legolas wasn’t usually the one to overtake Haldir in extruding dominance, but sometimes there were slight glimpses of the princes’ natural power slipping through. “What?” My voice was hoarse and thin of breath. Tilting his head to the side Legolas lips twisted into a cocky smile. “You heard my father. You are to be queen of Mirkwood at my side. Now show your commander what his queen likes. Take him as you please.”

I froze on the spot unsure of what to do. My brain reeling from the change of pace in the room. The newly found power sending butterflies through my stomach. Haldirs warm hand on my back startled me back into reality. I could feel him shuffle underneath me. Sliding towards the edge of the chair and leaning back. “Go on little starlight. Ride me. I am yours to take. Your throne to sit on. Well to be honest I would rather have you use my face as your throne, but this will do for now.”

His words had Legolas chuckle: “You see how eager the Commander is to please his queen? You are a natural.” “Both of you need an ego check.” I grumbled. “You are having way to much fun, teasing me like that and then throw me into cold water.”

Underneath me Haldir leaned forward, his lips brushing over my shoulder. “Would you rather have me rail you on the floor to Legolas feet?” Him growling into my ears, send goosebumps over my whole body and I involuntarily started to shiver.

Desperately trying to gain my stance back, I straightened up, forcing as much power into my voice that I could muster. “No. I am just fine.” Still unsure about what to do, I started to roll my hips in circular motions, as I was not able to do much more, since my feet barely touched the ground. But by the groaning noises coming from Haldir I was doing good. Following Legolas order, I completely focused on my own pleasure, riding my husband in the most sensual and deep way I ever did.

Taglist: gt13tbbart

#lotr #haldir smut #legolas smut #fem reader #threes0me #smut #haldir x reader x legolas #legolas #haldir #thranduil #haldir of lorien #legolas greenleaf

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elijahs-dumps · 3 months

Text

The Infantilization of Wylan Van Eck (within the soc fandom)

Hi! This is my first tumbler post ever, which is like super scary I wont lie. But I've had this project I've been working on since October and I'd love to share it with people, so here goes nothing!

Infantilization or to infantilize someone means to treat them as a child or in a way that denies their maturity in age or experience, and it qualifies as a form of mental abuse.

This treatment is common in fandoms, although it obviously isn't done in a hateful way on purpose. It’s often directed towards characters who are more innocent, more kind, or more anxious than the other characters within the universe. Or, sometimes these characters are literally just the youngest of the group. Some examples of this include, Entrapta from She-Ra and the Princesses and Power, Varian from Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure, Number Five from The Umbrella Academy, Hunter from The Owl House, Little Cato from Final Space, and even Peter Parker from the MCU.

However, most of the traits found in characters that are infantilized are also traits found in neurodivergent people. These traits include, missing social cues, being easily excitable or restless, often feeling anxious hyper fixating on something (usually related to science or math), being an outcast from the rest of the group in some way, and so on and so forth. Therefore, infantilization within fandoms is pretty problematic on its own. People (usually online) think that characters with these traits should be babied or pitied or demeaned in some way, even though neurodivergent consumers usually relate to these characters because of those same traits.

Some evidence of Wylan being infantilized can include; the fact he's only referred to as cute or synonyms to that, while the other Crows or their actors are often sexualized more. People saying or implying he's smaller, weaker, or even younger than the others. And of course, people saying Kaz and Wylan are father and son... which is something I'll come back to later.

Why Wylan?

To better understand why exactly Wylan is receiving this treatment exclusively from the fans, we need to fully analyze the Six of Crows duology, which is exactly what I did!

When we are first introduced to Wylan in chapter seven (Matthias’ POV) of the Six of Crows, we see him sitting at the table and doodling while occasionally chewing on his thumbnail. He doesn't speak until Inej voices her doubts in Wylan’s demolition abilities. Jesper says Wylan “barely knows his trade”, and Kaz mentions that Wylan is “new to the scene”. Matthias also makes a comment about how Wylan “looks like he’s about twelve”. When Jesper and Inej continue to complain about Wylan being their demo man, Kaz tells them that Wylan is doubling as their insurance policy because Wylan is Jan Van Eck’s son, the rich merchant who’s paying Kaz and his chosen crew 40 million kruge in exchange for breaking Bo Yul-Bayur out of the Ice Court. This immediately makes everyone in the room think less of Wylan because of his privileged past.

This introduction sets up Wylan to the readers. His reserved body language, along with his inexperience and Matthias’ comment about his young appearance gives the impression that Wylan is more childish than the other Crows.

In the next chapter (Jesper’s POV) as the Crows react to the reveal of Wylan’s identity, Kaz tells Wylan that he’s “passable at demo, but excellent at hostage”. Jesper calls Wylan a “baby merch” and insists that Kaz leave him behind, less he slows the crew down. Wylan is annoyed that Kaz and Jpeser are talking about him as if he isn't in the room. Then, Kaz tells Wylan that the only reason he hasn't been mugged or jumped in the three months since he left his father’s house is because Kaz placed him under Dregs protection. In fact, Jesper even says that Kaz has been “coddling Wylan”. Jesper proceeds to call Wylan useless as he and Nina belittle Wylan for living in the Barrel “by choice”. This is also where the nickname “merchling” comes from. When the group continues to go back and forth over Wylan’s skills, Kaz repeats that he’s only bringing Wylan along because he doesn’t want to leave their hostage alone in Ketterdam. This makes Wylan the only Crow that wasn’t hired for their abilities, Wylan’s passable demo skills are simply a bonus. It’s a way for Kaz to keep the crew small and avoid splitting the money even further.

This entire exchange and interaction between our six main characters lays out the groundwork for the dynamic between Wylan and the other Crows for the majority of the first book. Everyone else in the room believes Wylan is just another spoiled rich kid. They make fun of him for his lack of street smarts, and the money he was born into. Wylan never really fights back too much when it comes to comments from the others, which just reinforces the idea that he came from a cushy lifestyle where he never had to learn how to defend himself verbally. Wylan’s inexperience and innocence is often mistaken for stupidity by the characters, and therefore the readers.

Kaz saying, “Always hit where the mark isn’t looking.” Only for Wylan to reply with, “Who's Mark?” is a great example of this. (Still chapter eight, Jesper’s POV.)

In chapter nine (Kaz’s POV) we see how Kaz views Wylan in his inner monologue. He says Wylan seems out of his depth, and even though he’s only a year younger than Kaz (making Wylan sixteen) he still looks like a child. Kaz describes Wylan as a silk eared puppy in a room full of fighting dogs. This pushes the concept that Wylan is more childlike than the others further onto the audience.

Additionally, in chapter eleven (Jesper’s POV), we see Jesper quite literally call Wylan “kid” during the attack at the docks, even though they’re also only one year apart. And in chapter fifteen, Matthias refers to Wylan as “the soft one” within his own inner monologue.

Since Wylan doesn't have his own point of view chapters in the first book, the reader’s entire understanding of this character is formed through the eyes of the other Crows. So, what we’re hearing about Wylan in the first book might not be entirely accurate, which is something people often forget. Part of the reason why the fandom treats Wylan the way they do is because of the way the Crows describe and talk to him throughout the entire series, The reader learns to rely on the others’ opinions on Wylan in order to learn more about him.

All of the evidence I have shown so far, and even some smaller things I haven't included, plants a certain mentality in the reader; Wylan doesn't have the same knowledge as the other Crows, so he must be weak and gullible. Weakness and gullibility are often traits associated with the “younger-one-of-the-group” trope, or the “Kid Trope”. So, since Wylan is displaying behaviors that we as media consumers have grown used to attaching to characters who are literal children, Wylan must be a child, or at least be treated like one.

However, the Crows don’t treat Wylan this way because they truly believe Wylan acts like a small child, because he doesn’t. Wylan’s behavior is perfectly normal, it simply sticks out in contrast to the harsh environments all the others have been exposed to. They treat him this way throughout the book as a sort of condescending joke, they belittle him for the stereotypes surrounding his upbringing and little else.

Still, like I said, the Crows’ mindset on Wylan is all the reader is exposed to for the entire first book, so the reader will subconsciously assume Wylan must be doing something to earn this odd treatment from the others. Sometimes readers don’t understand that it is not Wylan’s wealthy and sheltered background that makes him different, it’s the fact that the others are all criminals, murderers, soldiers, and convicts. Wylan is the only “normal” Crow on a very surface level, so his innocence is bound to stick out more.

As the first book continues, we see that there’s more to Wylan’s past than he lets on. We see first hand how smart and capable Wylan truly is, as his character grows with the story. It begins in the fight at the docks in chapter eleven, where Wylan uses his own flash bombs to help Jesper out. In chapter thirteen, Wylan openly questions and even challenges Kaz after he throws Oomen overboard, which shows great courage on Wylan’s part. This pattern of questioning Kaz when no one else really does is a common theme when it comes to Wylan. We also see Wylan explain who Pekka Rollins is to Matthias in chapter fifteen. This shows that he’s not completely incompetent, and is at least somewhat aware of what goes on in the Barrel. Then, in chapter seventeen (Jesper’s POV), Wylan expresses his natural curiosity and desire for knowledge about anything, from the mechanics of the Ice Court moat to the design of Jesper’s guns. All of this builds to chapter twenty-two, where the Crows are attacked on the ice by Grisha who were sent by the Shu, dosed on parem. Wylan does a lot of heavy lifting in this fight with his bombs, and everyone is impressed. Jesper even makes a comment about how Wylan’s “earned his keep” now.

Small moments like this that showcase Wylan’s natural resourcefulness and strength are crucial to communicating with the readers that the Crows were wrong about Wylan in the beginning. As Wylan’s true nature begins to develop further throughout the first book, we slowly see the Crows and their attitude towards Wylan change. It becomes more positive. In the future, when Wylan makes an ignorant comment, the others don’t poke fun at him as much. They’ll tell him to be quiet at most.

By the final climax of Six of Crows, chapter forty-six (Kaz’s POV), we find out Wylan cannot read. Jan Van Eck is open about his hatred and mistreatment of his son. When Jesper jumps to Wylan’s defense, he goes as far as to say Wylan is smarter than most of the others put together. Jesper is in love with Wylan at this point in the story, so his words might be a little exaggerated. But there’s still truth to them. This entire scene serves as evidence that Jesper and the other Crows have realized Wylan’s intelligence and worth, so they don’t even think twice when they find out Wylan can’t read or write.

If all the Crows’ preconceived notions about Wylan were proven wrong before the end of the first book, then why does the fandom still view Wylan in such a problematic way?

Blame Booktok

This is all mainly tied to modern day book consumption, and the obsession with “tropes”. Online reading communities such as “Booktok” or “Bookstagram” have normalized interpreting even the most complex characters through simple archetypes. This is something all six crows are a victim of, in fact, most characters within all kinds of media are.

A good example of this within Six of Crows is Kaz Brekker himself. Kaz, within “Booktok”, is often lumped together with several other male YA love interests in books, like Aaron Warner or Cardan Greenbriar . They all usually share very few qualities, like having violent tendencies, being extremely protective of their loved ones, and acting cold or mysterious towards others. Regardless of the fact that all these characters are so complex and different, from their relationship dynamics, to their morals, to their backstories, readers still often view them as one in the same because of videos online pointing out very minute similarities. A broader example I would use is the way the Hunger Games series was often marketed and discussed as if the love triangle between Peeta, Gale, and Katniss was the main focus of the story. But really it was just a subplot to a more serious and heavy narrative.

People will often focus too much on singular tropes because it makes books easily identifiable and marketable in this new era of self-publishing and online purchasing. It’s easier to judge a book by its cover if you have a broad sense of what might be inside based on the small character details or scenarios other readers liked from it. But what does that have to do with Wylan?

Well, because people often talk about books or even whole genres on a surface level, they also discuss characters on a surface level. This lazy form of consumption is what often leads to mischaracterization. People can obviously understand complex characters like Wylan, so it’s not a question of intelligence. Fans online are just used to discussing things within books fandoms in such a simple way and viewing a character through the lens of one trope. They’ll put the character in a box, and Wylan just so happens to check all the boxes for a character who would be infantilized. Even though there are interesting things about Wylan besides his “innocence”, people are less inclined to talk about it. In short, viewing Wylan as just another character who falls under the category of a simple stereotype is easier than including and discussing his nuances.

So who is at fault?

When it comes to talking about a more harmful fandom behavior, like infantilization, it’s important to keep an open mind. Sometimes, it’s the creator’s fault for writing a character in a problematic way, not the fandom’s fault for interpreting it that way. So, is Leigh Bardugo at fault here for writing Wylan in this light? Or is it the fandom’s fault for not looking past the obvious parts of a character?

I don’t think it was Leigh Bardugo’s fault. If you take the second book, Crooked Kingdom, into account then you can clearly see that the way Wylan is disrespected in the first book is something he’s dealt with his whole life, especially from his father. Wylan has been taught to believe that his reading disability makes him useless as an heir, and as a human being all together. This is one of the reasons why we never see Wylan truly snap back in an aggressive way in Six of Crows when the others insult and belittle him. A big part of Wylan thinks that the others are right about him being useless. Obviously, Wylan couldn’t have had his own POV chapters in Six of Crows, because then that would spoil his father’s true motives. However, I think the fact we didn't get to see his point of view in the first book serves another purpose. Wylan’s low self-esteem is definitely a major thing he needs to overcome in his personal story within Crooked Kingdom. So for the readers to fully understand this, we needed to view Wylan from an outside perspective. First, we get to view him as the other Crows do, as someone sheltered and weak who’s in way over his head. Then, we get to see why Wylan is the way he is. I think this sort of reverse style of character writing is really interesting and more fun to read. But still, not every reader accepted Wylan just because the Crows started to warm up to him. So by extension, this is also why Wylan is one of the most hated Crows. Nevertheless, I think the way Leigh Bardugo chose to write Wylan is inevitable for the story and vital to his character! It wouldn't feel the same if we didn't get to see how the others viewed him first.

The fault lies with the fandom when it comes to Wylan’s infantilization. But, are people online really just lazy when it comes to discussing characters, or is something bigger at play here? I think it’s both. People do misinterpret Wylan’s strong and resilient character because of laziness and the normalization of oversimplification and overconsumption within the book community. But this treatment is also rooted in subconscious ableism. To better explain what subconscious ableism truly is, I’ll be taking a deeper look at a specific dynamic.

Kaz and Wylan (are not father and son)

Despite these two characters only having a one year age gap, the fandom often views Kaz and Wylan’s relationship as one similar to a father and son dynamic. Which is understandable to a certain degree. Kaz is the very first person Wylan ever told about his reading disability. Kaz had Wylan placed under Dregs protection the minute Wylan set foot in the Barrel, which may have been for Kaz’s own selfish reason, but it still kept Wylan safe for a while. There are a couple scenes in the books where Kaz will give Wylan advice about life in general, or about having a disability, not just about being a criminal. We see Kaz take getting Wylan justice for his mother and stealing back Wylan’s inheritance very seriously. Wylan even starts to pick up some of Kaz’s mannerisms and facial expressions. All of these could be viewed as things a father and son would do, despite how small the actual age gap is. However, the fandom seems to take this relationship to the extreme, from fan fiction and fan art, to getting the characters’ actors involved.

It’s somewhat because of very minute subconscious ableism. People naturally view Wylan as younger because of his demeanor, but also because of his disability. The opposite is true for Kaz. His physical disability makes people naturally view him as older than seventeen in their minds. This is due to long standing ableist tropes within the media. People with mental disabilities are often depicted as stupider in some way, so they need to be babied or coddled. While people with physical disabilities are often depicted as very ill, or very old.

This might seem far fetched, but it’s true. And it’s quite obvious if you look closely enough at anything from books, to movies, to TV, to games! These are just some of the harmful stereotypes we see in our world every day,

How to fix this issue

Now, of course people aren’t just going to stop misinterpreting characters or stop viewing them through small scale tropes all together. But keeping yourself educated and aware is a good way to stop promoting these harmful stereotypes. Listen to the voices that are being affected in these situations! In this case, it’s people with mental or physical disabilities. Be sure to take into account what they have to say on matters like this one. Allow yourself to take the criticism and learn from their experiences or feelings. It’s important to be empathetic and kind to one another, and acknowledge that sometimes we do problematic things without intending to. When talking about characters with disabilities, it’s important to remember what they represent, and the fact that you can't always say whatever you want just because the characters are fictional.

As always, if you’re ever unsure about whether something you feel or think is harmful towards a certain community, never be afraid to ask questions and do your research!

#wylan van eck #wylan hendriks #six of crows #shadow and bone #grishaverse #analysis #jack wolfe #wylan x jesper #soc wylan #wylan van sunshine #crooked kingdom #kaz brekker

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mvltisstuff · 10 months

Note

Hi I was wondering do you write for Bobby Nash? If you do, I wondering if you can do something like the whole 118 (including reader) surprising Bobby with Father’s Day gifts and tho him a little party. If you don’t mind writing a little late Father’s Day special.

I think it would very cute bc we can all agree that Bobby is the Father of the 118 crew, and I feel like he needs to be appreciated more :)

I hope ur doing well and keep it up with the good writing, I love all of your fics ❤️

kids - b.n

summary: request :)

bobby nash x platonic!reader x the 118 being his children fr

a/n: i’m a little late to the father’s day game… but i hope you all had a wonderful day and i hope you checked up on those who might not be as fortunate that day <3 enjoy ml, thank you for this sweet request!

y/n had caught bobby just getting off the engine after a call, practically appearing out of nowhere to grab him. she brought him away and up the stairs, leading him to the kitchen.

when bobby walked in, everyone had been in there with small wrapped presents and gift bags. bobby shook his head, “what is all this, guys?”

“happy father’s day!” buck yells, blowing a little party horn as he pushes the gift closer to bobby.

everyone at the station considered bobby as their non-biological father. not a single day went by where bobby wasn’t by their side. he was their captain, but also their friend. bobby fought alongside all of them and they all fought his battles for him. he never imagined that he would have all these people who loved him after what happened. he carried crushing guilt and was prepared to leave it all behind, making it impossible to open up. everyone at the firehouse saved him in every way a person can be saved. he brought out the best version of everyone. he never gave up hope on anyone and everyone there couldn’t thank him enough. y/n was hired by bobby, being her first accepting captain who actually cared about her and the job. she was a light to his day, and his guidance made her a better worker and person. he was their number one soldier.

“bobby, you’re the dad of this firehouse,” hen said.

“you did not have to do any of this,” he says. as kind of a gesture as this is, it’s making him miss his own children even more. however, he didn’t lose all of his children.

“c’mon, cap,” buck speaks excitedly. “you treat me more like a son than my real dad ever has. and you didn’t have to do that. so, open these gifts right now!”

bobby takes bucks first, stripping the bag of the paper and taking out the figure inside. it was a bobble head dressed in firefighting gear, who had similar features to bobby. “where the hell did you get this, buck?” bobby laughs and grins.

“the internet is a very big place, cap.”

“mine next!” chim yells, practically throwing his box into bobby’s arms. when he ripped the red and blue wrapping paper open, it revealed a red tumbler with captain nash on it, along with an LAFD badge above it. chimney weakly taped a picture of his face onto it. “your coffee cups are practically all falling apart, so i wanted to get you the best one out there. and i added some personalization to it,” he winks.

“thank you very much, chimney,” bobby smiles. “i’ll always think about you with my coffee from now on.”

bobby receives an extremely lavish watch from ravi, and his face drops as he opens it. it had little designs on the inside of the glass. “panikkar! how much was this?”

“oh you know, just pocket change,” he teases.

he opens the rest from eddie and hen, along with a few other gifts he received from people. he saved one of the closest for last. y/n gently handed her gift to bobby and set it down in front of him. she had curled the ribbon and wrapped it almost perfectly.

laying on top of the main gift was an air freshener for his car, shaped like a turnout jacket and an axe. it had his name on it and was his favorite scent. underneath was a board, with clear wooden writing. it wrote, captain nash, a true hero. all the names were in a circle around the quote including, diaz, buckley, wilson, han, y/l/n, panikkar. there was small pin on the inside with the word hero on it. “it’s a good luck charm, from all of us. you can wear it on your uniform or whatever you want to wear it on.”

bobby had suddenly been overwhelmed from the love he had been faced with. it was something he wanted for years, but never thinking he was worthy of something like it. a few years earlier, he was ready to leave the world after making up for his losses. when hen and buck found him knocked out from the amount of booze he’d consumed, he knew people were on his side. he was the most they could ask from a father. his eyes became glossy, but he refused to cry any form of tears in front of his crew anymore, even happy ones. he forced a strong front, but the appreciation from his kids brought down the walls.

now, bobby walks into the station every morning, the pin on one of his pockets, his tumbler in hand, a t-shirt from hen or eddie, his new watch. lastly, of course, he walked into his office to see the bobble head of himself on his desk.

he wore all of these items as much as he could, every single one meaning more to him than words. he never thought of himself as a hero, but the complete opposite. everything he is given was a gift, and represents the pure love everyone has for him. however, nothing can ever beat the true family gift of the 118.

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