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a-b-riddle · 5 days

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Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #angst #angst with a happy ending

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luvyeni · 1 year

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jeongin request!

hanging out with jeongin and the rest of the boys at the dorms. the boys start to baby him to embarrass him in front of you. you start to tease too only for him to drag you to his room and rearrange your guts, making you loud enough for the members to hear. yup, thats it lol.

LOUDER; YANG JEONGIN

pairings. meandom!jeongin x fem!reader

wc. 992

warnings. choking, degradation, facefucking, unprotected sex, squirting.

hug me was playing when i wrote this, i am in shambles i love this trope of pissing jeongin off and then having him fuck you stupid.

jeongin showing you what happens when you act out your place.

—

"jeongin be serious who wears the pants in your relationship?" jisung's question made everyone turn to the boy, his face turned red from the sudden question, they had been teasing him all day, pinching his cheeks, baby talking him, asking him inappropriate questions, like right now. "w..why do you need to know?"

"jisung don't be stupid, it's obviously ＿." seungmin said, making your eyebrows quirked up as you sat in your boyfriends lap, boy was he wrong, there was no dom bone in your body, jeongin made you ride him once and you almost cried.

"no way our innie could be a dom." jeongin was no longer embarrassed, but he slowly was growing angry, there's no way in hell you look like a dom to them. "she probably pegs him." this caused the room to erupt into laughter.

you didn't mean to laugh, you really didn't mean to it just came out, but they took it as a conformation. "she does!"

chan finally chimed in. "okay guys, that's enough, let's stop with the sex talk, what they do in the bedroom is none of your business, change the subject."

jeongin stared you down, you turned to him feeling his icy stare on your neck. "fucking room, now." he whispered in a low tone, venom laced in his voice, that made you get up and quickly make your way to his room...you just had to laugh at seungmin's stupid joke, now you're really gonna pay for it.

"you really think you can dom me?" jeongin had you pressed against his room door, his hand wrapped around your neck, pressing down lightly. "answer me." you shook your head. "n..no."

"then what the fuck was funny about seungmin's joke?" he let his hand hang loosely around your throat, letting you speak. "i didn't mean to." he scoffed. "of course you didn't." you knew he was being sarcastic.

"if you really think you can dom me, here's chance, tell me and i'll let you" you quickly shook your head at the horror of trying to do that. "no, i don't want to, please." he smirked.

"that's right, now get on your knees like the good slut i know you are." it was pathetic how fast you got down on the floor, but you didn't care, you wanted him. "should i take a picture, send it to them, show them how fast you get on your knees for me ." he unbuckled his pants, letting them fall to his ankles, pulling his cock out jerking himself off until he got hard.

"open your fucking mouth." he smacked his cock against your cheek, pushing himself through your slowly parting lips. "f..fuck, suck me off slut." you began to bob your head up and down his shaft, wrapping your hand around what you couldn't fit in your mouth.

"if i wanted you to jerk me off, i would've told you, can't do anything right." he slapped your hands off his cock, grabbing your hair, signaling he was going fuck your face. "listen next time slut." he pushed your head down until your nose touched his pubic bone, holding it until down, doing this a few times before thrusting against your face, your gagging and throat tightening around his cock egging him on.

"fuck! that's right slut, take my cock down your throat." he groaned. "im gonna cum, shit." he held your head down one more time, while he painted the back of your throat white. "f..fuck." he slapped his tip against your lips. "swallow." you obeyed, licking your lips of any extra. "good girl." he picked you up, basically throwing you on to his bed.

"ass up." he stepped out of his pants, getting on the bed behind you. "look at this, soaked." he pulled your panties down. "don't even need to prep you, your dripping down your fucking leg, that's how wet your little pussy is." he slapped your ass, making you yelp.

"yup, that's how loud i want you to scream when im fucking my cock into your tiny pussy." he pressed his tip against your heat. "let them hear how much a slut you are for me." he fully pushed his cock inside you. "jeongin fuck!" you screamed, not matter how rough he was being, he always started off slow, so this was different. "too much!"

"fucking take it!" he pulled out, slamming back again, you let out another almost pornographic moan. "fucking louder, let them hear you." his hips snapped repeatedly against yours, as you just scream and moan his name. "that's right, scream for me love, let them hear how much of a dom you are." he hissed. "shit."

you were a mess, you knew they were just outside, but that didn't stop jeongin from being as loud as he could. "you're clenching my dick pretty hard, you're gonna make a mess on my cock aren't you baby." he hit a specific spot that had you seeing stars. "jeongin, i..i feel- do it, make a mess." he didn't slow down his thrust.

"fuck!" you let out a scream that probably would warrant a wellness check, as you came hard. "oh fuck." he still didn't slow his thrust down, it wasn't until he was about to cum that his thrust slowed down. "take my cum." he painted your walls, his stomach pressed against your back as he kissed your shoulders softly. "shit."

"you fucking squirted."

"i didn't mean to go so rough." he helped you clean up. "i just was upset that they kept teasing, i should've taken it out on you." he rubbed your hip. "innie." you hushed him with a kiss. "i'm, besides it was hot." he smirked. "really, then should we go again?" he was about to pull you into another kiss when someone banged on the door.

"absolutely fucking not, if you're gonna go at it like fucking wild animals, go to her house, instead of traumatizing the entire dorm."

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids scenarios #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz imagines #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids imagines #jeongin x reader #jeongin hard hours #jeongin hard thoughts #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 3 months

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𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 2,438

Warnings | +18, kiss and touches noncon, Jungkook is always obsessed and gets a bit angry

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Ready for you the fourth chapter of Happy Ending! ❤

If you have any questions, please write to me! 🥰

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @douknowbts

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

When Y/N opened her eyes that day, she felt strangely physically satisfied, stretched her arms with a smile on her face, thinking that she must have finally had a good night's sleep.

Too bad the environment around her was quite different from what she had become accustomed to for two and a half years now.

The sunlit walls that gently filtered through the window were cream-colored, not gray and gloomy like those in her apartment, plus the mattress she was lying on was too soft to be the uncomfortable second-hand one she had bought to fit in her monthly expenses.

Even the blankets were different, and soon an alarm bell went off in her head.

She stood up abruptly, seized with terror.

"Where the fuck am I?" she muttered to herself, cradling her head in her hands in a vain attempt to think clearly.

Could it be that they had kidnapped her? But who, then-and for what purpose?

Her parents were not rich and wealthy people, she was a normal, average girl, she knew her neighborhood was dangerous, but to go this far?

Maybe... maybe they wanted to sell her.

She had heard of girls disappearing in the middle of the night and never to be found again.

She blanched, seized by a sick feeling, and although she wanted to refuse to believe her own consideration, the well-appointed and elegant room suggested only that one option-why else kidnap her if not to make her work in some illegal brothel frequented by bigwigs?

She shrugged those soft and foreign blankets away from herself and stood up with trembling legs, noticing that she no longer had only her camisole and panties on, a long nightgown that reached her calf covered her body, but she still felt naked given the absence of panties concealing her intimacy. In a flurry of shame she realized that whoever had been abducting her had also seen a lot of her as she blissfully slept.

The girl took a deep breath, walking to the door, which, to her surprise, she found open.

Had they forgotten to lock it? ... Or, was it a trap to test her?

She opened it wide slowly, her heart caged in a powerful grip of anxiety, the first thing she saw was a long dark hallway with artistic paintings hanging on the walls, to Y/N that style seemed similar to something she had seen before, but she could not give herself an answer.

She went into the corridor hugging herself with her own body, she did not know what she would find during her exploration, perhaps a group of kidnappers with sullen faces and brutal manners?

She noticed a bright glimmer at the end of the corridor and reached it at a slow pace, her bare feet stepped on soft carpeting that kept her from feeling cold, and even that made her say that the house must belong to someone wealthy. She could only dream of such an abode, so the idea that she had been abducted for her body grew stronger as the seconds ticked by in her mind.

When she opened the door from which the light reflected in the hallway came, a choked breath caught in her throat at the sight.

The boy with his back turned, busy among the stove, seemed all too familiar, she prayed it was not him, her beloved professor, but the sight of the tattoos on his arm, visible thanks to the short sleeves of his dark shirt, spoke volumes.

It was him, her captor was Jeon Jungkook, the same boy who had promised to protect her only the day before.

"Professor?" she asked anxiously, the young man at the stove froze.

There were a few seconds of stalemate that weighed in the air like boulders, then the boy turned around, revealing the handsome, jovial face of her teacher.

It was really him.

The bewildered girl took a step back, a gesture that did not escape Jungkook's notice.

The latter narrowed his gaze, "Y/N, you've woken up!" he exclaimed coming toward her.

Y/N shook her head, made to put further distance between them, but Jungkook grabbed her by the arm and this reminded the girl of Yoozu's attack the previous day, she found herself shaking and this alerted Jungkook.

"Sweetheart, are you sick?" he gently placed a palm on the girl's forehead, fortunately she was not burning hot, but something in her pallidness told him that something was wrong, "No...you're not hot, maybe.... It's because you're here, isn't it?" he smiled gently in her direction, Y/N would have liked to answer, but her voice wouldn't come out of her throat.

"I know it might feel strange at first, but I'm sure you'll soon get used to it, after all, I did it for your sake, baby."

Baby.

Trying to ignore the all too affectionate nickname, Y/N opened her mouth, forcing herself to answer, "You said you would protect me, that I just had to trust you," she croaked, shocked.

Jungkook frowned, "That's right, here I will protect you from all those people who have always treated you badly or never believed in you! I believe in you, and I love you, honey!" he brought his perfect face closer to the girl's, trying to steal a kiss from her, but Y/N managed to break free from his grip, not that it had been a feat, Jungkook had softened his grip for fear of hurting her, he had already seen the bruises Yoozu had given her without regard, to say Jungkook was pissed off was little, at the next opportunity he would eviscerate that useless blowhard.

Y/N, for her part, recorded his words confusedly, had he really said "I love you" to her?

She denied with her head, it couldn't be true, the professor she had so admired and had a crush on...was a psychopath.

"You can't be serious, tell me this is just a joke," begged the boy, who frowned.

"I'm not joking, Y/N, I'm sure that past this moment of confusion you'll realize that you love me too, and you'll accept me," he concluded confidently, "Now, which breakfast do you prefer? Sweet or savory?" he continued cheerfully, approaching the stove, Y/N saw toast already crispy and ready to be topped with chocolate or scrambled eggs, she took the opportunity to run out of the kitchen.

Jungkook sprinted toward her, missing her by a whisker, "Y/N!" he exclaimed shocked, not understanding the young woman's hostile attitude. He only wanted to protect her, give her the gift of a fairy tale happy ending, why didn't she understand?

Y/N returned to the previous hallway, ignoring the bedroom she had come out of, and spotting that and the kitchen, the front door must have been further down on the opposite side.

Too bad that was not a normal house, it was in fact structured differently and what she found as she pushed open yet another door was just a storage room.

She imprecated mentally, trying to turn back, but her race to safety ended with Jungkook managing to tackle her from a corner.

Y/N shrieked, terrified.

"Let go of me! Let go of me! I don't know what you want from me!" she burst into tears, she wanted to go home, her parents had done so much for her, she could not waste the opportunity they had given her to study and make a name for herself in this way, especially after they had shown themselves to be so displeased. She just wanted to make them proud.

How mocking the world was, just yesterday she had shouted those exact words, and had been saved by the very person who was now showing herself as the real danger.

Jungkook clutched her to his body, causing her to turn abruptly as the back of the small figure in his arms went crashing against the wall.

The boy inhaled in irritation and to shut her up he attached his lips to those of the woman, who widened her eyes trying to push him away.

The boy pressed even more against her, biting angrily on her lower lip, Y/N had to open her mouth wide because of the tremendous twinge she received and the man's tongue invaded her completely, demanding absolute dominance.

Y/N felt violated as the boy expertly entwined their tongues, unaware that the night before Jungkook had dared to do much more with that same tongue.

Jungkook moaned in that violent kiss, enjoying in the taste in which he was willingly drowning himself.

He reached down with one hand between their bodies, lifting one of the young woman's legs and bringing it around his hips, pushing his already hard cock against her pussy covered only by her nightgown, Jungkook could only feel the softness of that area so delicate and delicious, Y/N's eyes widened, between the lack of air and that vulgar gesture that shocked her, she began to moan shakily without any more resistance, in a pitiful surrender that made Jungkook pull away from her lips with a loud pop.

The breathing of both of them was labored and Jungkook's wild eyes met Y/N's tear-filled ones and begged him to stop.

Jungkook did not want to get that far so quickly, but the girl's actions had not pleased him, not at all.

"If you'll be good, I promise I'll stop," he hissed, "We'll go to the kitchen, where you'll eat your breakfast and we'll talk about how it's going to be between us from now on, understand?"

The girl nodded, obediently, and followed him into the kitchen, and when Jungkook let go of her wrist she sat clutching her legs, unable to banish the heavy sensation of a cock against her folds.

She had never had a boyfriend, consequently had never received such attention; it had been shocking and strange.

Why did someone like him want to be with someone like her?

Jungkook put some toast in front of her with a variety of toppings next to it, there was jam and butter, chocolate and even eggs with bacon and cheese, he filled a glass with juice for her.

The boy wanted her to eat and feel good, he really wanted the best for Y/N and was very sorry to see her so uncooperative.

He took a seat in front of her and began to eat, giving her a look that intimated her to do the same, the girl tremblingly took the butter, beginning to spread it on her toast, she did not want to anger him again, she had yet to find the entrance and realized that in order to get the go-ahead, she had to first keep the landlord happy.

"Y/N" she lifted her eyes to his, a twinge of guilt hit the boy in the stomach in front of those red, shiny eyes, "I only wish you to be happy" he began, but Y/N interrupted him.

"But you kidnapped me" she said in a huff, Jungkook for a moment did not know what to say.

"No, I didn't kidnap you, we belong together since we first met," he said confidently, "Do you remember that? You were completely wet with rain, I saw you and you bound me to you with one look, my job is to protect you and make you feel loved."

Y/N remembered that day, which took place seven months earlier, but she did not think she had left such an indelible mark on her teacher, in short, he had never shown any interest and she had never given herself false hope.

"Why didn't you say anything before, because-"

"Jungkook." the boy blocked her, "Call me Jungkook, I'm not your professor outside of school," he pointed out, disturbed by the continuous distance Y/N seemed to want to put in the dialogue.

The girl sucked it up and agreed with him.

"Why didn't you ever come forward, Jungkook?"

In a normal way, she would have liked to add, but did not want to dare too much.

The young man took a moment to absorb as best he could the girl's voice as she spoke his name with what seemed to him to be familiarity; he found the sound of those syllables coming from his woman's lips enchanting.

Y/N did not understand, why had he suddenly approached her and in such a crazy way then?

"Because I'm your professor and it wasn't ethically correct, plus you had never given me a reason to step forward...until yesterday, I couldn't allow them to go on with their torture," he said harshly, "You'll be safe with me forever."

The girl took a deep breath before she began to speak.

"You can't keep me here forever, I have a family and studies to complete, take me back to my home, Jungkook," she begged him again, the boy shook his head.

"You are home, and don't worry about your studies, I will help you and you will get your degree one hundred percent, the principal is a good friend of mine...as for your family, they were the first to hurt you."

The girl's blood drained from her face, she began to finally understand where Jungkook was going with this. He wanted to isolate her from the world, because the world had been evil to her.

Jungkook in those months had been researching the young girl's parents, neighbors told him about how they were always rude and irritated with Y/N, went around saying that the girl was squandering all their savings on that absurd belief that she wanted to continue her studies, not understanding the sacrifices they had made to raise her.

Those statements were enough for the boy to realize that they did not deserve a daughter like her, too good and sweet for such people.

"It's not the same thing!" blurted out Y/N then, ready for another fit of hysterical crying, "I want my freedom!"

"Freedom? For you to live like that is to be free? Living with the constant fear of being attacked at school or in that neighborhood you call home, without a shred of a friend?" he asked, strangled.

Those words struck Y/N, because they were so fucking true they hurt.

But still, those were not good reasons to kidnap a person, and he had done exactly that.

She shut up for a few moments not knowing how to retort, Jungkook looked at her with disappointment.

Y/N felt a pang in her heart, because in spite of everything, that was still the guy who until the night before had given her butterflies in her stomach, seeing such a look in him too made her want to vomit.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #bts yandere smut #yandere bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere jeongguk #jeongguk x reader

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girlboypersonthingy · 3 days

Note

Could you maybe write a Sally Face One Shot, where Sal developed a huge crush on reader. But he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way. So he writes a love letter in which he puts no hope in, but then she actually tells him she does feel the same.

Does that even make any sense?😭

Yes…it makes sense and I’m weeping over this omggggg 😭😭😭 bruh this had me screaming and kicking in bed as I wrote it omfgggggg. Sal is pretty smart so I know this mf would write some pretty, thought out, poetic type shit

Notes: gn!reader, established friendship, friends to lovers trope

TW: none, just so fucking sappy and fluffy

Sal x reader- Sincerely Sally 💌

Dear (Y/N),

I want to start by telling you that you’re an amazing friend. I’m beyond grateful we’ve met. You’ve always made me feel so comfortable, so wanted, so important. No words could ever truly explain my feelings for you or the thoughts behind them, but I’m going to try.

Since we met, I’ve seen nothing but good in you and I think you’ve made me good, too. You make me feel good. You make me a better person. I don’t know who I’d be without you, but I know who I want to be now.

I want to be the one on your arm when we walk into a room.

I want to be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night.

I want to kiss you every time we say ‘good bye’ and every time we say ‘hello’ again.

I want to be the one you point to with a smile and say ‘him’ when talking to others.

I want to be the one to hold you when you cry.

I want to be the one to hug you when you’re excited.

I want to go every where you go.

I want to slow dance with you.

I want to head bang with you.

I want to paint with you.

I want to sing to you.

I want to hold you.

I want you.

I love you.

I’m in love with you.

And I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Sally <3

Sal felt like a total loser while sneaking over to your place, which was just down the street from Todd’s house, and slipping the letter in your mailbox. He felt like he could puke just from writing the letter, there’s no way he could ever say these things to your face. He couldn’t help but hesitate, staring at the mailbox as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. ‘They’re going to hate me. I’m gonna ruin everything. What the hell am I doing?’ Sal thinks to himself, staying frozen in place for a good few minutes as thousands of thoughts race through his mind, shaky hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

He jumps a bit when he notices the light in your bedroom flick on through your window. He ducks his head and turns to leave, not wanting to get caught lurking around your house in the middle of the night. As he rushes back home, the panic begins to set in because now he realizes he left it…he left the letter behind. It was done. No turning back. He felt sick to his stomach and like he was already grieving the loss of your friendship.

Sal tip toes back in the house, praying neither Neil nor Todd would catch him sneaking in so late and ask questions. He trudges to his room, shedding his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Sal lays on his side and after taking his prosthetic off, stares at the wall for hours thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could reject him, every excuse and lie he could use later to act like it wasn’t even serious, like it was a dumb joke or something. Finally, after his brain had tortured him enough, he drifts off to sleep just before the sun begins to rise.

~next morning~

‘Holy shit…’ You think as you hold the piece of lined note book paper in your shaky hands. “No way…no way!” A giddy smile grows on your face as you clumsily drop all the other mail you had in your hands, besides Sal’s letter, on the ground and take off running for him. It was early in the morning and you were in pajamas still but nothing could stop you now. His house was not far at all and you were too excited not to immediately run to him and profess your love for him.

You and Sal had been friends almost as long as he has with Larry and Todd. You’ve slowly fallen in love with him just as hard as he has with you- the issue is that you are both dummies and think the other person sees you as a friend and a friend only. You’d find yourself dreaming of Sal, not knowing he was dreaming of you too. You’d absentmindedly doodle his name on piece of paper and blush, he’d find a strand of your hair on his shirt and smile so big under his mask. You two have been pining for so long but both so afraid to wreck the relationship you already have. Eventually, Sal felt like he couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t focus on his studies or the ghosts or even eating throughout the day. His brain was full, flooded even, with thoughts of you. He just had to get it out, he had to say it to you now or he would be haunted by it forever. Unbeknownst to Sal…you felt the exact same way.

Bouncing up to his doorstep with an uncontrollable smile on your face, cheeks aching and turning red, you knock on the door and ball your fists up out of excitement. Finally, Todd answers the door, smiling at you before greeting you. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? We-“ “Sal! I-I’m sorry. I need to talk to Sal.” You interrupt, your crazy smile making Todd chuckle softly just as Neil comes up behind him. “Morning, (Y/N)! Sal isn’t up yet. He’s still-“

You weren’t trying to be rude, you adored Todd and Neil but you were currently completely 100% hyperfixated on the sleeping blue haired poet behind the door at the end of the hall way and you just had to see him immediately. “I-I’m sorry…” You laugh softly as you push past them, sprinting for his door, gripping the knob excitedly before swinging the door open. The sound of the door swinging back against the door frame stirs Sally from his sleep, making him groan and glance over at the doorway. Before he can react to you being in his bedroom, in your pajamas still with bed head and an adorable love sick smile on your face, you’re jumping into his blankets with arms wide open. As you practically belly flop on top of him, he huffs softly then chuckles, groggily blinking at you.

“Uh…morning…” He mumbles just before you place the folded love letter on his chest, giving him a small smirk. His eyes open wider now, his prosthetic eye not in its usual socket. Sal scrambles nervously to sit up more, his breath hitching in his throat. He was so half asleep for a moment there, he had forgotten all about the letter he planted in your mailbox last night. “Oh I uh….yeah uh-uhm-“ Sal can’t seem to move his mouth correctly, can’t focus his brain on the words he wants to say. And he just breaks down even more when he realizes you’re in his bed, still in pajamas with the cutest messiest bed head. He can’t deal with the cuteness and his gnawing anxiety…So you speak up instead.

“I love you too.” You smile sweetly before pulling yourself up closer to his scarred face and rubbing your nose against his. Sal lets out a whiny little hum as he lets his nervous hands very slowly move up to rest on your back, smiling like a sappy dork as he hugs you softly. He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting to happen after giving you that letter but this is most definitely the best case scenario. “Let’s just…fucking kiss already.” You say with a cheeky smile, eyes half lidded as you lean in closer. Sal sucks in a breath before letting his eyes close along with yours, pursing his lips out as his hands move up your arms and to your cheeks. His big palms caress your face so perfectly, his thumbs sliding back and forth over your skin as you lock lips, gently moving your mouths together as soft sighs leave both of you.

As his hands pull your face closer, your hands wander up and down his bare arms, legs tangled up in his blankets along with him now, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh against his lips. “I’m glad you finally told me…that letter was so beautiful.” You whisper, lips gently ghosting against his now. Sal keeps his eyes closed but smiles brightly. “I wrote 153 of those letters.” He confesses, face burning bright red. “No you didn’t.” You scoff, looking down at him, finding this fact hilarious and also adorable and flattering.

“Oh yes he did!” Todd and Neil are leaning in the open doorway. Oops…you got so excited you didn’t shut the door behind you when you ran in. “Proof!” Neil laughs out loudly as he points to Sal’s trash can in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled up pieces of paper. You laugh as you look over, Neil and Todd laughing along with you. Sal drapes an arm over his face, trying to hold back his flustered smile and embarrassed expression. “Stoopppp.” He complains before you’re standing and playfully glaring at the two boys in the doorway. “That’s enough teasing. Shoo!” You grin at Todd before shutting the door on them and turning back to Sal.

“153, huh? Wow. That’s some dedication, lover boy.” You climb back into his bed, sitting cross legged beside him. “Why didn’t you just tell me in person, Sal? Would’ve been way easier.” You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his tangled hair. “Uh, I totally disagree. I nearly had a panic attack just putting that letter in your mailbox and then having to walk away from it.” A laugh rings out from you as you toss your head back. “Ha! So, What? You’re afraid to say you love me but not afraid of ghosts or demons or cults?” You taunt him before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re strange. And I love that about you.” You rest there with him for a moment before a fantastic idea hits you, making you sit up and gasp excitedly.

“Can I read the other ones too?!” Before Sal can answer, you’ve jumped up and ran to the rejected pile of love letters in the corner. “No! (Y/N)! No no nononononono!” Sal jumps up and runs to tackle you, his face blushing so red from his ears and down his neck. You laugh loudly as he wraps his arms around your waist and tries to pull you away from all the other embarrassing things he wrote and considered saying to you. “They’re…in the trash…for a reason!” He laughs and huffs as you you push forward, trying to reach even just one crumpled up piece of paper. “Pleeaaassseeeee?” You plead but your strength leaves you as Sal tickles you and has you cackling on the ground instantly.

And the next 10 minutes are spent wrestling with him on the floor of his bedroom while laughing like drunk idiots and occasionally pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Eventually, you do get ahold of a few of the discarded love letter drafts and they are either like Shakespeare poetry type shit, or so fucking dorky and corny, full of puns and shit. Larry probably tried to help him with that one lol

#sally face x reader #sally face fanfic #sally face fanfiction #sal sally face #sally face sal #sally x reader #sal x reader #sal fisher #sally fisher #sally face #sal fisher x you #sal fisher x reader #sf sal #sally face fluff #sal fisher x y/n

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theflikchic · 9 months

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I was trying to fall asleep last night at 12 AM and I swear I was struggling bc I kept thinking about how right before dying, Snape- in trying to explain why Harry should trust him to go to the forest- gave Harry the memories that showed his entire process of being indoctrinated into a cult from childhood and his process of getting out of it. And I don't even think he did it on purpose.

It's as if he was like- "Here are the memories that will explain my life" and they happened to also chronicle his whole dang process. I mean, he even gave Harry that memory where he claims that he thought using Dark Magic was funny. His indoctrination was fking included and none of it paints him in a good light. And yet.

If those are the memories that spilled out of him on purpose- like his life literally flashing before his eyes- it absolutely stuns me that all the memories he immediately thought of AND the ones he vulnerably gave Harry (with no choice, mind you) were the ones that revealed that he was a kid indoctrinated into a cult, was actually into it, and still got out of his own accord (idc why, he got OUT).

And for some reason- even though he actually got out- I get the sense that from how badly he's shown in those memories, he's still angry at himself for getting into the Death Eaters in the first place. His process of getting out is pathetic and sad and ugly because that's what happened and somehow, he doesn't choose to show it any other way (he's dying ofc but still). It's even in character for him to just...show things as they are or how he thinks things just are (a flaw at times).

But that memory of Dumbledore implying that perhaps Snape should have been in Gryffindor stuck with him despite how damn ugly and selfish his act of leaving the Death Eaters looks. And it's almost like he never really knew how to deal with that implication even while dying.

I am not a fan of the name 'Albus Severus'. But...it's like Harry saw Snape's whole process when Snape himself couldn't or did and was unable to forgive himself for being indoctrinated in the first place. Harry, who spent his whole life hearing that once a wizard goes Dark, they don't care about anything or have no chance of coming back.

It does say something to me that Harry seems to have forgiven Snape for things Snape could never forgive himself for.

#just... thoughts #i had #at 12 am #does this make any sense #harry potter #severus snape #snape #book analysis #long post #character analysis #bookblr #tw cults #snape is a cult survivor man #and i dunno if he gave himself enough credit for that #but Harry sure as hell did

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theflyindutchwoman · 13 days

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Hey! How are you holding up? Just finished the episode and I haven't really recovered. I am sad, I am frustrated, I don't really know what's happening? I thought they were mature and Tim is so dumb right now, I can't even.

And Lucy? I can't even start to imagine what she's going through. She has been so badass for the 5 seasons and this season she just gets fail after fail and loss after loss and doesn't even get a good job storyline.

So sorry I didn't reply sooner but I first wanted to take a little step back in order to fully digest the episode. As much as the waiting is killing me, I actually appreciate the hiatus for that. I imagine your feelings may have changed a bit as well since then… or that was the impression I got from our different conversations here and there. How are you feeling now? A bit better or still frustrated?

I'm going to start with Lucy. I was rewatching the beginning of season 5 and this is hitting even harder now. Not because of the pining era. But because the narrative was already showing her isolation back then. I couldn't quite put my finger on why her storyline in season 6 felt so familiar but now I get it. This is merely the continuation.

As we all noticed, the scene of Tim breaking up with her had a very similar vibe to the one at the end of 5.02. But think back of when she went to Nyla for advice about going to UC school, when she was trying to confide to Aaron who was too caught up in his own drama to hear her… or when she spent hours locked in a freezer because no one realised she was missing - besides Tim, that is. And then, there was the whole Rosalind thing where Lucy had to push through her own trauma to help Chris deal with his and help Bailey stay calm. But no one ever took the time to ask her how she was doing with all of this (on screen). They all had good reasons, by the way, this isn't me trying to paint them as the bad guys. But this still has an eerie similarity to what is happening right now. Only there has been no payoff for any of this. Yet. It didn't seem to go anywhere. Until now. Same with her career : she nailed UC Academy, something that was supposed to help her standout come promotion time… She helped the FBI on a raid, she was asked to be the acting Watch Commander, she was told that the whole station had her back… And yet, none of this paid off either. Yet. So this is a great opportunity to finally connect all the dots that have been dropped for the past two seasons and give Lucy the amazing arc she deserves. I sincerely hope this will be the case.

As for Tim… Look, the reason why I didn't want a breakup (besides the fact that I dislike this trope so much), is that I was afraid that it would cheapen the whole "worth the effort / worth the risk" speech. You can't say that and leave at the first difficulty without downplaying the whole story. So I'm glad that the writers were able to find a way to circumvent that issue by showing Tim completely unravelling. Because this isn't about him thinking Lucy is not worth the effort or the risk… This is about him thinking HE is not worthy of her. And that changes everything. For me, at least. I still get the frustration. I still wish this storyline would have been done with them sticking together and trying to work through it. But I can understand his perspective, why he thought this would be better for her. And I can see how that could make them stronger in the end. So, just like with Lucy, I hope Tim's arc will be treated properly and carefully. I need to see the payoff, the progress… I need to see them heal. Separately and then, together. It's always hard to see where a story is going when it is still unfolding… But for now, I choose to remain optimistic and hopeful. Does that help you even a tiny bit?

#thanks for the ask :) and again I apologise for not answering sooner!#ask & ye shall receive #the rookie #chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford

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hwajin · 9 months

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— ooh, but this is all that I am, i'll only show you the best of me

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ✦ :: lee minho | 4k follower event

genre: angst, smut

pairing: damaged artist lino x gn!reader

req

A kiss to the temple, far more intimate than it should be, than it was allowed. Lip finding lip then, in a kiss vulnerable, pained. Hands on bodies, caressing, urging, demanding almost, though none of you would go that far - none of you were in position to.

The clothes against your bodies were hot, bothering, though fear laced within Minho didn't allow him to undress, far less fulfill the dreaded act on you. Though he wanted you, wanted to see you, wanted to watch you. The whole of you, the very bane of you. And yet it'd be all he was able to do. Undress, and watch. Touch eventually, before he'd leave, times again, times that hurt you, and he was aware. And though so unknown for him, to wait with the act, to be patient, to kiss and caress, to love, almost - though he was scared of that word, and so were you so would never utter it, would be afraid to think it, even - he now carried far more fear for the whole purpose of your affairs; to fuck and to disappear right after, only to call up each other again two nights later, because your bodies missed the other, because pleasure was never as great when together, and you urged for it, longed for it.

Though he started caring for you. If it was the righteous expression in the first place, if caring went only to the limits of his abilities, not the meaning the word truly carried. As his hands fiddled with the hem of your shirt, as you slid it across your body and off it, as you let it fall to the floor beside the bed, as you exposed yourself to him, utterly bare upper body, lower part only laced in shorts that left little to the imagination, he almost felt bad. Bad for being unable to grant you more, for this being the very utmost of his, the maximum of affection he could grant. Kissing you down as he thought of it, hooking fingers into the waistband of your attire as he recalled his life before; before spotlight, before challenging career, before his heart and body had been used over and over and uncountable times more until he'd learned to grow numb, and distant. Heart shrivelling up and unable to love - and then he'd met you. Turning his world upside down, shaking his beliefs, making him crack in his ideals, in his morals. He couldn't give you what you wanted, or deserved, and for the very first time in long he felt for it. Felt so very hopeless about it.

Your fingernails dug into his skin as cold air brushed your core, softly though with intensitiy you gasped at. Minho huffed out amusement, watching your face contort in slightest contact, in embarrassing pleasure already - or maybe it was embarrassment, or maybe it was agony; or maybe all of it together. You pulled at his shirt, urging him to mimick you, to lay out bare before you, to show himself to you, to serve his everything on a silver platter. And so he did, complied, pulling off white shirt that's been hugging his body to rile you up, sliding off his jean, black and barely hiding arousal, and his boxers with it.

Body on body, hands momentarily caressing, loving on parts sensitive, eliciting gasps, and sighs, and sweetest shivers. Mattress beneath skin felt suddenly lighter, heavenly almost, soft beneath you, silky to touch. And you simply basked in the other for a while. In awe of sunset painting faces in hues of orange and brightest yellow, tracing shapes with fingers, playing with light and shadow on body, enjoying the warmth. And it was far too devoted, far too fond. It wasn't supposed to feel as good as this without any stimulation applied to body, though you didn't shy away from it, hoping he wouldn't either. Hoping he would embrace it - and he kissed down your skin, starting at cheek and jawline, moving down to the dip of collarbone, to shoulder, to breasts. You played with his hair, tugged on it, found stability in it. And he let you, and you enjoyed it.

It was seemingly hours later when you were sweat-covered already after simply kissing, and touching, and looking and watching, both out of breath, both wanting, neediness written all over your bodies, your faces. And Minho dreaded it. Hesitated though you pushed him to it, impatient and unknowing of his worries - you did wish more from him, consistently hurt at his coldness, though you couldn't blame him. Knew what you were going into when you did, so you learned to understand.

His tip brushing your slit, prodding at your entrance as though he teased, though is eyes showed remote, showed pain.

"This is all I am, baby. I can't... I can't give you any more than this."

And you nodded. Let him know to let himself fall if it was into your hands, if only for the moment, if not for eternity. That you would wait for him if that's what he wanted to, or that you would bare this very limit of his, his inability to love, his inability to go back in time, to bring back a version of himself fit for you, righteous for your standards. And he entered you, tension peeling off like overripe tangerines. One thrust and a second and you threw heads back simultaneously, sweat glistening upon bodies, lips kiss-bitten and red, eyes hungry, hands too. Three thrusts and a fourth and you were gasping for air and drawing moons across his back, as he was molding shapes into your flesh and biting at your neck. And he was basking in the feeling of you, in your warmth engulfing him whole, and maybe it was enough for the moment. Maybe lying to himself that it was must be enough, maybe short encounters with you would dissipate his pain, his remorse, his heartache after all.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @a-cute-french-fry @felixinameadowandthesuniswarm @tangylemonade @unexceptional-h

#lee know smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know angst #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines

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im-just-a-mississippi-girl · 21 days

Text

Painted Him Perfect

Pairing: Austin Gunn x ex-wife!reader

Category: Angst

Word count: 824

Summary: You finally decide it’s time to be honest about your marriage with Austin Gunn. About how you painted him perfect.

Warnings: None

A/N: I know it’s been 63936383629 years since I last posted a fic 🤣 but here I am! Based off Painted Him Perfect by Alexandra Kay

Masterlist

Taglist

Moodboard is not mine. Credit goes to @katries 😘

There he was, your ex-husband, laughing with his friends like everything was perfect. Perfect. If only they knew just how perfect their buddy Austin Gunn truly was.

You knew after these past several months it was time to be honest. It was time to be honest with your friends, with your family.

The honest truth is that no matter how many times you sang his praises, drove or flew hours and hours to see him, he would mention over and over how he hated the attention. You didn’t understand because you thought that was what he wanted.

Arguments were more common between you two than they should have been. Couples therapy didn’t do any good no matter how hard you tried, tears in your eyes and streaming down your cheeks. Austin never really tried to make it work, never told his truth in therapy. That was rock bottom for you, for your marriage. His true colors and true character shone bright in that therapist’s office. That’s when you knew it was over, when you knew you couldn’t keep painting him perfect, when he couldn’t even attempt to make an effort to work on the relationship. A relationship that you thought was true love but it was all just a slap in the face.

Kris Statlander and Willow Nightingale were two of your closest friends. You met them through Austin so maybe you have one good thing to come out quite possibly the worst relationship you’ve ever been in.

“Hey!” You heard Willow’s upbeat voice coming from your left.

“Hey.” You sighed. Now is the time to tell them. They’re your best friends, plus you have nothing to hide. You fought tooth and nail for your marriage to get better, to please Austin in order to keep the storm clouds away.

“I know that voice. What’s wrong?” Kris was never one to beat around the bush. She noticed you haven’t made any effort to look their way. Her eyes followed yours and she knew immediately who you were looking at. Austin Gunn and the rest of Bullet Club Gold. “You two have an argument?” Kris turned back to you, her head tilted as she studied your face.

Understatement of the century.

Willow shook her head. “I don’t think that’s it. I think maybe—”

“I need to be honest here girls.” You finally looked at your friends and you saw you had their undivided attention, so you let the floodgates fall. Maybe you should have went somewhere more private than roughly 8 feet away from the Bang Bang Gang but part of you wanted passersby to hear, his friends to hear. You just knew that if you didn’t speak your truth then another woman would fall victim to his charm and nice guy act only to be in for heartbreak and misery.

By the time you were finished, Kris’s and Willow’s jaws were on the floor. You didn’t leave anything out. You told the story of how the seemingly ‘perfect’ marriage was all because you made it out to be that way. You told them how you always excused things away as ‘that’s what love is’, but now you knew better. You recalled the big scene Austin caused on vacation at the beach in Atlantic City back in August. August 14th to be exact. Unfortunately, you’ll never forget that date because you’ve never been more embarrassed and ashamed. You even admitted to ignoring the red flags, the red flags you always said you would never let slide. Retelling these stories made you realize that you were yellow and he was green, blue was always going to be the color of your relationship.

During your storytelling, some tears must have fell because felt Willow squeeze your hand, in an effort to comfort. Kris on the other hand was connecting the dots before you’d finish a story.

“That’s what really happened to us. No amount of couples therapy could save us because he didn’t want to save us. Not even when I begged for him to, cried for him to. So the best thing I could do was to paint him perfect so no one knew a thing about just how miserable and embarrassing our relationship truly was.”

“He didn’t deserve for you to paint him perfect.” Kris was fuming. You knew if you gave her the green light she would make that boy’s life pure hell. It was tempting but you wanted something else for him instead.

All you could do was agree. “You’re right I shouldn’t have and it’s a good thing I’m not doing it anymore.”

You didn’t hate Austin Gunn, you didn’t like him, and you sure as hell didn’t love him — at least not anymore. Although, you did want him to feel the pain you felt, you wanted him to be heartbroken. Okay, so maybe you did hate him a little bit, but could anyone really blame you after you told the truth?

General Taglist: @legit9thlunaticwarrior @plentyoffandoms @1dluver13xx @sunshinevirus @wwenhlimagines @crowleysqueenofhell @jackson-nickthedate @omg-im-such-a-masochist @kmc1989

#austin gunn #austin gunn imagine #austin gunn x reader #aew #all elite wrestling #aew imagine #aew imagines #aew fanfiction #aew fic #aew fanfic #Spotify

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kataraslove · 10 months

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I was just told a few days ago that they love momtara becauses it tragic that she has to do all the workd for people until of couse Zuko comes along to help out making it less tragic and that logic made zero sense. katara is not cinderella im not sure why her so called fans want her to be cinderella.. or a damsel in distress until zuko comes along its not very pro katara to me it feels the exact opposite.

there’s this really great thread made by my friend @rukihimehive on kataangthinker on twitter debunking momtara with evidence from the series. i highly suggest giving that a read if you’re as tired of the fandom adultifying katara as i am.

I’ve seen momtara enthusiasts say that anyone who is critical of the fandom trope is “taking away her maternal nature, which is associated with her trauma of having lost her mother from a young age.” in other words, “if you don’t support fandom’s insistence that katara is the gaang’s literal mother figure and interpret all her interactions with the gaang as motherly, you’re erasing her trauma.”

which is so ridiculous to me. in the episode the runaway, katara herself dislikes the label of motherly. she takes personal offence over the idea that the gaang would view her as their mother instead of their peer, and demands to know if it’s true that her behaviour comes across as too motherly, especially because “motherly” is associated with negative connotations such as “bossy,” and “overbearing.”

I’ve seen people state that the gaang’s treatment towards katara is unhealthy, that katara is forced to do all the emotional work and emotional labour and none of the gaang ever supports her in anything. which just isn’t even remotely true.

episodes like the desert - in which the gaang are under extenuating circumstances that forces katara to step up and take care of them - are the exception, not the standard. in bitter work, katara explains to toph on how they divide the chores amongst themselves. katara takes personal issue (and for good reason) when toph only wants to do her share.

there’s multiple episodes in which the gaang help pitch the tent and perform campsite duties. there’s a whole episode dedicated to how katara and sokka are both sick, resulting in aang having to run across the world to retrieve them medicine. there’s an entire episode dedicated to how the gaang cannot get anything done without sokka, who usually manages their schedules and itineraries and helps ensure that they’re on track. there’s plenty of moments in which aang and katara are goofing off, and sokka gets mad at them for not sticking to his carefully curated and meticulous schedule and for putting a wedge in their plans to save communities (see: imprisoned and the painted lady). there’s moments when toph assumes responsibility; there’s moments when aang assumes responsibility. and then there’s moments when none of them have any clue on what to do, when they literally act like children navigating a world that’s constantly trying to kill them.

and what about in katara-centric episodes? what about in the episodes dedicated to developing her character? surely the selfish gaang couldn’t possibly support and understand her goals and desires?

1. imprisoned - sokka and aang aide in katara’s plan to immediately get captured and free haru. aang takes her side when katara suggests to free the prisoners. aang and sokka aide katara in freeing the imprisoned earthbenders.

2. the waterbending master - aang rejects learning from a sexist because pakku refuses to teach katara. aang agrees to train katara everything he learns in the middle of the night. aang and sokka cheer katara on as she goes head-to-head with master pakku.

3. the puppetmaster - the gaang allows katara the opportunity to learn waterbending from hama, a southern water tribe bender, until they discover what hama’s been doing all along. sokka and aang rush to confront hama and to protect katara. later, they provide katara comfort after she breakdowns over learning how to bloodbend.

4. the painted lady - aang calls katara a secret hero for helping people in need, even though katara lied to the gaang and pretended that appa was sick. he later helps katara destroy the factory, and then aides in her plan to confront the fire nation soldiers as the painted lady.

sokka defends his sister’s actions:

“Maybe she is a waterbender, but she was just trying to help you. Because of her, that factory won't be polluting your river, and the army is gone. You should be down on your knees thanking her!”

the southern raiders - this episode is so misconstrued by fandom that every reading of it has become so far detached by canon. no, sokka and aang were not demonizing katara for believing that revenge was the suitable option for her (we find out in the episode that it wasn’t). yes, katara wanted far more than just confrontation (she said it herself - maybe revenge was what he deserved). no, aang was not demonizing katara for stating that her words reminded him of jet’s, who had died a noble death and who katara had personally mourned for. no, jet is not a terrorist and/or a psychopath - he was a child indoctrinated by propaganda and motivated by the death of his parents at the hands of the fire nation. aang and sokka do not interfere in katara’s decision to pursue the man who killed her mother, even if they felt that katara might end up killing that man. no, if katara had killed that man, aang and sokka would not shut her out or ignore her or make her feel subhuman. aang himself had several instances in which he would have taken several lives (sandbenders) if katara hadn’t stopped him. that’s why he says, “I’m proud of you,” because katara arrived at that moral decision on her own, without the influence of external sources (reminder that in the desert, katara had to physically stop aang). at the end of the episode, katara discusses with aang that forgiveness was not the approach she would take towards yon rha, but it was the approach that she would take towards zuko, who had earned her forgiveness.

in each of the above katara-centric episodes (with the sole exception of tsr, which I had described in great detail) the gaang understands katara’s goals and desires and helps her accomplish them, and protects and defends her. to me, that does not come across as a dynamic in which katara is overwhelmingly at risk and treated like absolute dirt. it’s actually quite telling on the quality of a fictional ship (or lack thereof) when fans must demonize katara’s friends and family in order to prop up her fanon love interest.

and when her fanon love interest DOES join the group, nothing… really changes in terms of the dynamics. he serves them tea occasionally? he tells sokka to get out of a bison’s mouth? katara still performs the cooking duties. katara still asks if zuko’s okay and makes sure that he’s included in group activities. the gaang turn to zuko because he is sufficient at hunting down aang, but they all formulate a plan for the comet together. one throwaway line informing someone to get out of the bison’s mouth and him being a strict teacher towards aang does not make him a dad. especially when none of the gaang truly see him as a dad and would probably die of laughing before even considering him as such.

that’s not to even mention the point of zuko’s arc when joining the gaang is not for him to assume an authority, paternal role over a group of kids younger than him (but around his age). it’s for him to finally realize that he belongs to a group of children as traumatized as him, to a family for once in his life. so why should fandom enforce him into a pseudo dad role that isn’t even canon nor would his character even want?

going back to katara, at her core katara is a young, fourteen year old child who has been forced to assume a motherly role to compensate for the loss of her mother. episodes like the runaway delve into how this trauma has forced her to grow up and act older than her age, but at the end of the day, she is still a child and does not wants to be viewed by her peers as some form of motherly figure. which is why it’s so important that characters like aang and toph remind her that she still is a kid, like them.

dark-skinned female characters like katara suffer from the phenomenon of adultification and hypersexualization in fandom spaces. their characters are treated as pseudo mother figures, irregardless of what the narrative could or could not outline for the audience. momtara is a problematic trope because it erases the nuanced dynamics in katara’s relationship with her friends and family, assuming that all interactions with the gaang are of her being their mother. and that canonically, that’s all katara can be towards them. especially in the interest of a ship.

#this is my manifesto of why I can’t stand that trope #antizutara

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gfcheol · 2 years

Text

pairing: jeonghan x reader, wonwoo x reader (seperately)

genre: smut, pwp

word count: 3k

tags: husband!jeonghan, wifey!reader, work colleague!wonwoo, cucking, mild dub/con, grinding, seduction, unprotected sex

summary: jeonghan and his lovely wife seem to have taken a special kind of interest to one of his work colleagues - namely none other than wonwoo.

“did you have fun, love?”, jeonghan asked. you only sighed, leaning into your husband’s tender touch as his arms wrapped around your middle from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. the good food and wine you’ve had spreading a nice cozy feeling of contentment throughout your body, making it all the harder for you not to abandon your dishes and lay down for a nap.

upon hearing you hum in response, han pressed a soft kiss on the side of your head. “you were an absolutely wonderful hostess, by the way.”

“hm, i don’t know, was i? i hope wonwoo didn’t think my cooking was all too bad - i would have made something different if i knew you’d bring him along as well”, you chuckled sheepishly, trying not to sound all too insecure - yet judging by your husband’s slight shift in demeanour, you probably still did. curse your poor acting abilities.

“ah, i should've told you before that we’d stop by for dinner, babe. that was my mistake, no reason for you to feel embarrassed.”

you shook your head, turning your head to face him, a sly smirk painted on your lips. “well- i might forgive you for your horrendous and atrocious behavior if you give me a kiss. but only might - it heavily depends of the sort of kiss you’d-”

spinning your around in his arms, he connected your lips to his in a soft kiss, his hands resting on top of your hips, pulling you close against his body. you swear even after all those years of knowing him, jeonghan still knew how to make you feel like a lovesick girl.

he pulled away from you after a minute, smug smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “am i forgiven yet or do i need to make it up to her highness some more?”

as much as it pained you, you shoved him away, shaking your head as a tinge of red spread all over your cheeks. “hannie, please- i still have to do the dishes”, you told him, your tone apologetic as you continued to scrub the remnants of food off your good plates.

with a sigh, jeonghan leaned against the kitchen counter next to you, grabbing a towel to dry the dishes with, nudging your hip with his. “then we’ll simply have to help you get it done faster.”

a snort, “you horndog.”

he let out a breathy laugh at your playful accusation, “less talking, more cleaning.” you shook your head at that, full on giggling now.

the evening really was way more fun than you had initially expected it to be. anxiety and panic bubbling up within you, when jeonghan had let you know, with a quick text, that he’d bring his colleague from work home for dinner - not even caring to inform you which colleague he’d meant, when he’d arrive and what she should prepare. so you were left to check the fridge, frantically looking for anything that could still be considered edible, all while trying to make yourself look at least somewhat presentable.

wonwoo himself had been very understanding of the situation, apologizing profusely for imposing on your and jeonghan's evening - although you assured him again and again, that it wasn’t any trouble and you were happy to finally get to know him. you found him to be quite charming, his jokes never too crude and his stories never too long or too dull - even his compliments, never too frivalous to be considered offensive, just provocative enough to make gasp once or twice.

you felt your face heat up at the memory of it alone.

“d'you think he liked me?”, you asked, voice almost a bit too casual.

jeonghan halted in his actions, obviously taken aback by your question, “what? of course, why wouldn’t he?”

“i- i don’t know. maybe he only felt compelled to be friendly?” you paused, considering how to properly convey your feelings. “i just- want your friends to like me - is that bad?”

his brows furrowed at that, eyes staring at you with an intensity that made goosebumps run down your spine. “i actually think that it was quite obvious how into you he was."

“what? how so?” the remark was genuine, yet your husband seemed to be irritated at the audacity you had asking that question, attention now fully on you. he took a step towards you again, strong hands holding your shoulders as his mouth whispered his response, “i could see how much he wanted to fuck you, darling. how he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.”

your breath hitched at that, grinding your ass involuntarily right against jeonghan’s crotch, drawing out a low hum of approval from his lips. you shivered at the sound alone. “how - oh - did he look at me?”

“like he hated me a little bit for being married to you”, he groaned, his breath hot on your skin. “would you let him fuck you?”

usually you’d feel ashamed to even admit to such a thing, the thought of another man even kissing you repulsive enough for you to shudder in horror. yet there was something about the curiousity that lay in jeonghan's tone that piqued your interest and made your eyes roll to the back of your head, picturing wonwoo's lazy smirk and wild dark hair. your hand flew to the top of the counter, trying to steady yourself on the surface, while jeonghan was still busy grinding against you.

“would you like to watch him fuck me?”

it was as if you flipped a switch within him, feeling his fingers dig into your hips with such force you rarely saw from him outside the bedroom. he dipped his head low, pressing warm kisses to the side of your neck. “fuck, yeah i would.”

if it weren’t for the tight knot of pleasure forming in the pit of your stomach, you’d have gasped out in surprise. “wha- are you serious? don’t joke around, hannie.”

“no, absolutely”, there was no hesitance in his answer, his voice firm and sure as ever. “it’s fun to see men lust over my wife like they have a chance with you - like they can take you from me. and to see you work your - oh fuck - charm on them. you’re so incredibly hot, baby. seeing you fuck him would be so hot.”

the outline of his hardening cock against your lower backside was enough proof of the sincerity in his words. cold fingers traveled up the sides of your torso, hot ones dipped under the waistband of your pants, making you throw your head back onto his shoulder. you shuddered, the combination of the fantasy and his touch almost too much to bear. “would you let him cum inside me?”

the feeling of him rubbing your clit deliciously slow, almost made you collapse right then and there. “ahh fucking hell- yeah. want to fuck you while you’re full of his cum.”

you hissed in pleasure. “maybe wonwoo would be interested in another dinner invitation then.”

the evening went well. or so you hoped at least, but maybe that was just your anxiety seeping through the cracks once again.

wonwoo had gladly accepted your invitation to dinner, seeming almost caught off guard that you two’d want him back at your house after your last meeting. you couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted his lingering looks on you then, feeling ashamed at not masking it better - after all, your husband was an observant man. but jeonghan had only reassured you, soothing your worries with calming words and soft smiles and you did try not to worry. with an emphasis on try.

you wore your fanciest set of lingerie, hoping wonwoo would notice the lace poking out from underneath your shirt whenever you’d lean over; or that he’d take note of the small touches of your hand landing on his thigh that seemed to linger a bit too long for it to be accidents; or maybe even the fact that you’d stare at his lips with such intensity you wondered if his cheeks could grow any redder. jeonghan, of course, played the oblivious husband, too engrossed in the wine and food to pay much heed to what was happening.

it was only after han had to excuse himself, because he ‘had too much to drink’, that he shot you a quick smile as he stood from his chair. time to turn up the heat.

“uh, is it okay for me to still be here? i can leave if han isn’t feeling all too well and call myself an uber”, he said, his pupils blown wide from all the pent up tension and alcohol. you suppressed the urge to smile only with effort.

shaking your head ‘no’, you gave his shoulder a reaffirming squeeze. he really did look handsome in his dress shirt and pants, you mused. if you weren’t married you’d almost blush in the presence of such a good looking man who just so happened to be your type. “but i’m not really tired yet! my husband won’t mind me having a bit more fun until i go to bed, don’t worry.”

judging by the twitch of his hand around his wine glass and unsteady exhale, it was probably safe to say, that you got him right where you needed him. now it was just a matter of seduction and playful flirting - and fortunately enough, you’ve already used your charms more than succesfully on other men.

“do you want to move this to the sofa? way more comfortable than the dining room, don’t you agree?” the smile that tugged on your lips was sweet as you ran your hand through your hair, watching wonwoo finish the rest of his drink in one big gulp - you couldn’t help but admire the handsome profile and your mind wandered to jeonghan. hopefully he’d have as much fun watching as you’d have fucking him. wonwoo cleared his throat, “that’d be more cozy, yes.”

perfect.

his taste surprised you when your mouths finally collided - sweeter than expected. it was such a strange sensation not to have your husband’s tongue running along your lips but his friend’s. everything felt so strangely different from what you were used to - from the warmth of his embrace, to the feeling of his arms pulling you on his lap, tits squished against his tight body.

he let out a groan when you rocked your hips against his, cupping his face in your hands to really relish in having him so close underneath you. oh, you already knew you were going to have fun with him. “you feel so good - shit.”

despite the situation he was in, it was that comment that really flustered him, his eyes widening slightly at your comment. “no reason to sweet talk me anymore, i’m already hard as a fucking rock”, he said, laughing breathlessly.

as if on cue, he thrusted right up against your clothed core, forcing a surprised squeal from your lips. the friction was so delicious, you could hardly wait to feel him inside you creaming you full of his cum. you moaned out his name, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair as your husband's eyes staring at you two from the doorway across the corridor. jeonghan's gaze burning right through you as your pressed wet kisses onto wonwoo’s jawline.

“jesus fucking christ, you’re a catch”, he rasped, fingers playing with the hem of your panties. “can’t believe this is actually happening.”

your eyes met your han's, the primal lust reflecting in them only adding fuel to the fire between your legs. you ran your tongue along the shell of his ear, whimpering when the pads of his fingers finally came in contact with your aching and swollen clit. “god- wonwoo!”, you yelped, grinding down on his bulge.

his response was immediate, mouth swinging open into a perfect ‘o’ shape, the stimulation just enough to make his vision blurry. he set a merciless pace as you held onto him for dear life, hands clawing at his shoulders in a desperate attempt to not succumb to pleasure too soon. wonwoo couldn’t help but grin to himself, his ego feeling almost as well taken care of as his cock.

“you’re already so wet”, he mused, nibbling on the skin of your neck. “is that all for me?” you shuddered under jeonghan’s steady gaze, frantically nodding your head - too busy moaning and mewling to actually form a coherent sentence. you felt wonwoo twitch from under you and you knew what you’d have to do.

peeling your arms from his shoulders, you fumbled for the zipper of his pants, all too desperate to stuff you full while the love of your life was watching. he obliged rather quickly, huffing out a dark chuckle, “easy there, i’ll fuck you soon enough, don’t worry.”

suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you instead continued to tug on the fabric, offering him a needy, big eyed pout. his resolve melted away in a heartbeat, freeing his erection from its confinements, his eyes still glued to your flushed face - you almost felt bad about how easy it was to wrap him around your finger. almost, that is.

despite telling yourself you wouldn’t, you couldn’t help but compare the angry, hard cock in front of you to your husband’s. he was thinner in length and maybe not as curved as you were used to, but by god the length. you vaguely wondered, if it’d even fit inside you - but before you could entertain the thought any longer, you felt wonwoo run his head through your folds, lubricating himself with your slick. with a tap against your clit and a wink of his eyes, he slipped his head in you and you let out a strangled gasp.

“you sure you can take me in?”, and suddenly all doubts about him fitting, were eradicated from your mind, replaced with spite alone. you managed a smile, “s- so considerate.”

with one roll of your hips, you sank down on him, the veins along his length hitting all your sweet spots, your pussy already trying to clench around the foreign sensation. it had been years since you’ve had anyone else kiss you, let alone fuck you raw, your body already accustomed to jeonghan’s - molded like clay to be his perfect other half. but this was new and exciting, and most importantly, under his supervision. pleasure was running through your veins like molten lava, making your chest heave with every thrust of his hips.

the squelching noise of your bodies moving filled the whole living room, the quiet grunts wonwoo let out only meant for your ears alone. but you didn’t take much note of any of that, chasing your high like your life depended on it, teary eyes looking for jeonghan’s face in the shadows, needing to see how well you did for him. all for him, always.

“where - umpf - can i finish?”, he asked, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. it almost felt like you were ripped from your trance, blinking a few times to slip back into the role of devilish seductress.

“please- inside”, his eyes almost grew double in size at your casual reply, now rutting into you with renewed vigour, balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. “how does jeonghan keep up with you, holy shit.”

and right as you slammed down on him, clit grazing his abs, you felt yourself shudder in pure ecstasy, tongue rolling out of your mouth and eyes crossing. your walls contracted around his throbbing cock, trying to force his hot cum out of him - but wonwoo endured, fucking you through your orgasm with utter concentration. his mouth latched onto your collarbone, arms wrapping around your limp body, pressing you impossibly closer.

“hnn ‘boutta cum”, he whimpered and you only mustered a faint mewl in response. “cum deep inside of you.”

“wo- wonwoo”, you saw jeonghan smile before he vanished in the dark again, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks. thick ropes of cum shot deep inside of you as his hips stuttered for the very last time, his body growing stiff around you, panting from exhaustion.

it didn’t take long until the reality of the situation slumped down on wonwok, his eyes distant and nervous as you pulled out of his embrace, your hole still oozing warm semen. he tucked his soft cock away, suddenly feeling so much less confident and smaller than before - the change in his demeanor almost deafening. yet you didn’t pay much mind to him, still trying to catch your breath.

“you probably know the way out yourself”, you said matter of factly, not trusting your legs to work properly after all that. wonwoo only managed to nod slowly, not meeting your eyes as he muttered a quick ‘goodbye’ and rushed down the corridor.

you smiled as you felt jeonghan's warm hands brush your hair out of your face, welcoming the cool sensation with a quiet hum, leaning into his touch. a chuckle erupted from him, his lips pressing a gentle kiss onto your temple. “did you have fun, love?”

your hand closed around his wrist, trying to pull him closer, still feeling somewhat needy. “hannie.”

he let himself be pulled on top of you, amazed by your flushed face and dishevelled state, his fingers tracing the lovebites his work colleague left on your cleavage. he swore he could literally feel his heart swell with pride at the sight alone. “you’re insatiable.”

you shot him a sheepish smile, rubbing yourself against his erection. “only when it comes to you.”

#jeonghan x reader #jeonghan smut #wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut

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dumplingsjinson · 6 months

Text

Let me just uh, set some hard fucking boundaries with some of you people in regards to MY relationship.

Do not keep questioning my choices on MY relationship.

First of all, you're not in this relationship. Let me mess up and find out, if worse comes to worst. Let me fuck around and find out. I'm not going to blame you for not warning me, don't worry. Seriously. So stop questioning me.

Don't keep asking me, "Why don't you label things with him? I think it's bullshit that there are no labels. What's the POINT of this relationship if you're not labelled as such and such? You're just wasting your time. Stop that. It's weird. This doesn't seem right to me. Why call it exclusive if there's no labels?"

Let me fucking date how I want, damn. Let me be in a goddamn relationship how I want, without me needing to explain myself to you. You, who I don't even know. You, who's not even a mere acquaintance of mine. Even my friends aren't questioning me, so who are YOU to question me when you know virtually NOTHING about our relationship?

Why are YOU, as someone who doesn't know the full fucking picture, trying to enforce your rigid little rules onto ME? If you like labels and only commit strictly with someone once those labels are established, good for you! Do you!

But don't go on the internet, read the stuff someone shares (which doesn't paint the whole picture, mind you, because I'm not sharing my whole goddamn life biography on here) and then go running into their inbox and yell at them for their choices, or because their choices differs from yours. Don't do that because you don't KNOW them. Don't act like you know everything from the small details you've read. Yes, I share things on here, but only things I'm comfortable sharing. Surface level shit, basically.

What you think is normal isn't always someone else's normal. Please remember that.

The way some of you act in my inbox... It's embarrassing at best and disgustingly rude and kind of intrusive and also insulting at worst. And because you've got the anon feature on, you think you can just say anything. (That's a whole other rant I've been wanting to get off my chest. I've got a few drafts I've never posted that are from months ago lmfao).

Now, to tone down the aggressiveness for a fraction of as second, I get you care about me and it's probably coming from a good place, but I am TWENTY. THREE.

Let me remind you.

TWENTY THREE.

Not three.

Not thirteen.

TWENTY. FUCKING. THREE.

I can make my own decisions. I am a legal adult, probably moreso than some of you out here coming into my inbox and full on trying to start an interrogation with me like I did something wrong for wanting to do things MY way for MY relationship.

And SLIGHTING me for my choices is where I'm setting the hard boundary at.

DO NOT, and I repeat:

DO NOT...

...under any circumstances, come into my inbox and act like I'm a dumb fucking bitch. (I am a dumb fucking bitch, but I'm also a self aware dumb fucking bitch. There's a difference.)

I know what I'm doing, I know the consequences, I know what I'm in for. I'm not fucking stupid and naive. I'm not a 13 year old about to start her first relationship with her high school crush.

So stop treating me like a donkey, and stop questioning my choices. Remember, as harsh as this sounds, some of you need to hear this and REALISE this: You've got no place in my life to do that. Absolutely fucking none.

Learn to read the room and learn that there are lines that shouldn't be crossed.

OH, I need to add this here. Before some of you come into my inbox and ask me WHY I'm sharing shit if I'm not open to opinions on my choices... There's a difference between opinions and civil discussions, and crossing someone's boundaries and questioning their choices because you think YOUR way of doing things is the right way to do things.

Just because I share some stuff on here doesn't mean that warrants you an automatic pass to shit on my choices. Fuck that bullshit, because that's just shitty behaviour and you need to look inwards and realise you're doing a lot more harm than good by being a piece of shit to someone you essentially do not know.

Remember, if you won't say this shit to someone in real life while looking them in the eyes, then don't fucking say it on anon in some stranger's inbox. That's a dick move, and you're a prick if you do that. Fix yourself, for the sake of humanity.

That is all.

#long post #i've had had it up to here with some of you ngl #boundaries need to be set #long rant about some people in my inbox #rant #vent #i'm not adding a read more because i need some of you guys to read this whole thing #esp those anons sliding into my inbox and bitching about #don't go into my inbox and dress yourself up as anonymous so you can shit on my choices #i fucking hate that and i can tell you right off the bat if you do that #i do not want to be associated with the likes of you #i'm about to shame anyone who comes into my inbox after this and acts like assholes lmao #idc bc you deserve it if you read this and still continue to bitch about

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thelightsandtheroses · 10 months

Text

Secret Smile: Checks and Balances (Chapter Three)

Secret Smile | Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose. Word Count: 3.4k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, language, mentions of alcohol, reader has a nickname (Blue) but no physical descriptors used. Author Notes - Thank you for all your comments, reblogs so far - they mean a lot. As always your comments and feedback are deeply appreciated, I’d love to know what you think of the chapter and fic so far. There is a Narcos Easter Egg in this chapter and if anyone catches it, please please let me know by sending me a comment or ask - I am super curious to see if anyone notices it. The gorgeous banner is by @/wildemaven

Chapter Two| Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

If ten years ago you had told your younger self that you’d be working with Javier Peña to bring down a cartel while you were living in Colombia, you would have laughed.

You would have laughed a lot at the sheer absurdity of it all.

You might, however, have thought how great that scenario could be. While Javier was always your brother’s friend and not yours, ten years ago you liked him and would have thought that he’d make a good colleague. He was smart, he was funny and he didn’t make you feel awful every time Rafa also drove you to the mall at the weekend like most of Rafa’s friends did. His other friends acted like there was decades between you rather than just a few years.

If Javier actually wanted you here with him, was open to working with you, perhaps things would be different. It might even feel more like you could have imagined it would.

He doesn’t want you here though; it’s clear he doesn’t want anyone in this role, but also that somehow it’s worse for him that it’s you.

You ended yesterday with a tentative peace but it feels so unsteady, so easily broken.

None of this is what you anticipated when you took this job. You were supposed to be escaping a difficult work environment by leaving the country in the first place. What you had told your friends was an adventure, an experience you needed to have while you still could, is actually turning out to just be a repeat of the same old challenges in a different setting.

The coffee and food’s pretty good though. You wonder if it’s worth it just for that.

Your coffee pot hisses on the gas stove as you make your way up to the kitchen to finish making breakfast. You barely slept last night so you’ve already been up for some time and are planning on getting into the office early.

Your apartment is one of the many the embassy provides for its staff. It’s plain and the furnishings are basic, but you’re comfortable here. You’re based on the ground floor, so you don’t have to worry about the stairs. The main living area walls are a little faded now and the paint colour falls somewhere between orange and peach. The apartment is surprisingly spacious though, however after living in such a small apartment in DC it could just be your perception.

You’ve tried to make it your own by swapping the two dog related sketches hanging in the hall that you couldn’t any make sense of with photos of your loved ones instead. You have a lot of questions for the person who lived here before. Were they dog people? Was it an inside joke perhaps?

If you could stop tripping on the split level, this place would probably be perfect.

The few personal touches you’ve either bought from DC or in your first week in Colombia have helped make it feel homely though. The patterned comforter on the faded leather couch, a few photos of friends and family scattered around, several orchids you fell in love with and foolishly thought would be easy to keep alive.

You take a large gulp of your coffee and take a bite of your eggs, turning the radio on while you finish eating.

You freeze as you hear the newsreader’s words, abandoning your breakfast instantly, before picking up your handbag and walking straight out of your apartment.

This is going to be a mess.

You’re already in Javier’s office when he arrives, sitting cross legged on the black Chesterfield couch, scanning through a file.

You had arrived at the embassy an hour earlier than you usually would. Most people were still at home or on their way in and you were looking forward to the quiet. You’d made a beeline for your office to get ahead of what had happened but Robert, one of the other lawyers, was also already in and you didn’t want him hearing everything.

You went to Javi’s office instead. Thankfully one of the janitors let you in and you had started building a response plan immediately.

This situation with Duffy and Lopez could definitely become the sort of mess you needed to help manage.

You look around at the papers strewn on his desk and you are slightly impressed by the amount of chaos you’ve caused in less than an hour.

Javi looks decidedly irritated by the scene in front of him. You quickly untangle yourself off your seat and stand up, guiltily picking your cup of coffee off his desk.

“Is this a treat I can expect every morning?” he asks lightly.

“Well, the early bird does catch the worm, Javier.”

“Apparently so.” For a second, he sounds so familiar. This isn’t the Agent Peña you met in the ambassador’s office yesterday. This is Javi, Rafael’s best friend. This is the same Javi who waited outside your school with Rafael when you were being bullied and the three of you would walk back to your house together. There’s mischief in his voice and for a second, he sounds younger.

You can’t get lost in memories now though.

”Did you hear about Duffy and Lopez?” you ask, skipping straight to the reason you’re here in his office.

Javier nods, runs a hand through his hair. “It was on the radio as I drove in.”

“I’ve been on the phone already, that’s uh, why I used your office. Robert’s already in mine and I needed privacy. They’re furious, Javi. Please tell me that they notified the police in Cali this was happening. Please?”

“It was a fast-moving opportunity,” he says, wincing at the way your face darkens. “They didn’t. They wouldn’t. Historically we’ve also had issues with that sort of thing, people in other people’s pockets so - this is just how it goes. You’ll learn that along the way.”

“Shit. Okay, we can - we’ll uh, we’ll deal with it. It’s done, can’t change it now. I’ve got some ideas, it’s manageable.”

“So, what do we do here then, Blue? You gonna help me navigate this?” You raise your eyebrows at Javi’s tone. There’s annoyance in his tone but he says your nickname softly. He looks exhausted already, as though he’s been stationed here for a decade as opposed to a day. Perhaps that’s not so far from the truth though. He’s been here before, he spent years here.

“Why else would I be here?” you ask flatly. “I didn’t even get to finish my breakfast this morning. There’s a meeting - actually, you have a meeting in just over an hour with the Colombians and the ambassador. We need to be ready for it. You need to be ready for it, Javi.”

“So, we what? What’s the play? You said you had some ideas, I’ll all ears.”

“I think Duffy and Lopez’s visas are guaranteed to be pulled at this point. That’s probably non-negotiable. I think you’ll have to eat some humble pie, same with the ambassador but that should be enough. It’s the principle, they want to make it clear to both you and the ambassador that they’re running things, not us, okay?”

Javi exhales heavily. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke. Much. More socially than anything. Rarely.”

Javi raises an eyebrow at you.

“I mean that I don’t have any on me.” You look at Javi’s dejected face. “I’m sorry!”

“This is going to be a great day, isn’t it?”

You smile widely. “That’s more like it, Javi. Keep up that winning attitude!”

Javi walks into your office later that afternoon. After helping him prepare for the meeting with the Ambassador and Vargas, you’ve been pulled into your own meetings, handing off projects you’d started before you were allotted this special assignment.

Several of your colleagues look up at him with a range of expressions from curiosity and admiration to annoyance. Everyone else is packing up for the end of their day but you’re still at your desk. At first you weren’t sure what you were waiting for but now you know.

He looks dejected. That’s the first thing you see. It’s as though all of the air has been sucked out of him; he’s flat. Even his eyes look lifeless somehow.; they’re dull, colder even.

You’ve never seen him like this before; you remember him so differently. He was driven and ambitious, yes, but there wasn’t this visible weight pulling him down. His smile met his eyes back then.

At least, that’s how you remember him.

Javi loosens his tie a little as he leans against your desk; you look at his tie, it’s blue and gold today.

“Rough meeting?” you ask politely, picking your coffee cup up and taking a delicate sip.

“They’re not letting me replace my team in Cali,” he says in a low voice, “Did you know about this? Was this one of your ideas>”

“Oh.”

“Look, it’s bad enough Duffy and Lopez are out. I get why, I’m okay with it. They’re telling me I can’t send any other agents out there though? How do I do my job because I’ve been back less than a week and my agents are questioning me already. Are you gonna help me navigate me that? That’s what I need from you.”

“I’m sure there are reasons,” you say gently. If Javi says the word ‘navigate’ one more time, you think you might kick him, or slap him, or spill your coffee on him. No, no, you wouldn’t waste your coffee, even if it is bad quality.

“Yeah, the reason is that they don’t want any of this. You do realise what you’re here for, don’t you? This assignment, what they want from you … it’s to block me.“

You scowl. “I’m not blocking anyone, Javier. I’m just here to help and to ensure everything is by the books, watertight so that we have a strong case when we extradite them.”

“You actually believe that?” he asks, an incredulous expression on his face.

You falter slightly. You did believe that - you want to continue to believe that, but if you’re honest you’re not so sure anymore.

“I do,” you say, smiling tightly.

“By the book. You think they’re playing by the book? Do you know how all the checks and balances work down here? The Cali cartel are negotiating a surrender with no consequences. It’s a negotiation where they have all the bargaining power, that seem right to you?”

“You can’t pretend that rules don’t matter, that checks and balances are irrelevant. It’s not how it works.”

“I didn’t say that,” Javi says, shaking his head.

Rules matter to you. It might sound uptight and inflexible, but there’s a system for a reason. Your whole career has been about upholding standards, about ensuring that justice is obtained when rules are broken. You’re not quite as evangelical about it as some of the people you went to law school with, but this matters to you.

It matters because you know what it’s like when those checks and balances don’t matter; when rules are taken as loose guidance or stretched and exploited until they break. You carry those invisible scars from DC, coupled with the complete sense of failure that the rules hadn’t mattered. Not in that scenario, not when it what came to it.

Maybe Javi’s right.

“It’ll be by the book,” Javi says gently, looking at you with all of his attention. “But I can’t guarantee they’re out there doing the same thing.”

He’s standing so close to you right now. You can smell the sharp mint on his breath, either gum or those tiny solid mints you get a tin. You’re not sure which it is; which one of the two is most like Javi anymore. The mint is clearly to mask something, not alcohol, but you can just about make out lingering traces of cigarette smoke following him too.

“What do you mean?” you ask, a growing sense of dread constricting around your stomach like vines.

“What do you know about what’s happened in Yumbo?” he asks in a low voice.

There’s a small TV in the office. The local news plays in the background; the calm intonations of the newsreader fading into white noise.

You look over to see footage of Cali and walk closer so you can hear the report. This is the tragedy Javi told you about.

The cause was a gas leak?

No, because Javi told you that the journalist who approached him had indicated it was the Cali cartel. Why would the inspector say this though?

You left DC for a reason. For many reasons actually. If there is one thing that would affect you it’s a cover up, it’s deliberately concealing the truth. You can’t take watching a miscarriage of justice before you; that’s not why you got into law.

Javi’s right. The Rodriguez brothers, all of them, they need to be held to account, to justice.

You don’t want to be the blocker; you don’t want to be the person bought in to stop justice being served. You thought this role would be about ensuring a watertight case, one that would get justice.

No. No, this is not what you signed up for. This is not what you were promised.

Javi’s right about something else too - you’re naive. It surprises you. You thought the years of legal work, of life experience would have altered that, but clearly it hasn’t.

It’s time to change things.

You neatly stack the paperwork and lock it in your desk, before sweeping your Filofax and assorted pens into your handbag.

You need a plan.

You need to find a way to fix this.

You remind him of home.

Laredo hasn’t felt like home in years, but it transpires you can’t escape your hometown. Javi laughs bitterly; turns out that he can’t even escape his hometown more than two thousand miles away.

It’s not that home is Laredo. You don’t just remind him of there; you remind him of who he was before. Before the DEA, before Escobar, hell before Lorraine even.

It’s unspeakably cruel that you’re the one who has been bought in to ruin his chances of getting this one right.

Talking to Stechner in the bar made it clear; he’s here as decoration. Agent Peña; the man who helped bring down Escobar and will therefore add weight to the legitimacy of these negotiations. There’ll be no police work, no actual justice.

If there were any justice in the world, Javier, you’d be in jail.

Stechner’s words haunt him, continually replay in his mind. That whole exchange rendered Javi too much like his old self. Less than forty-eight hours in Colombia and he’d started smoking again, slept with an intern, all his plans lay in ash.

It became worse when he spoke to Martinez after the meeting about Duffy and Lopez. Martinez made it clear that he’d helped create this problem.

Javi lights a cigarette, moves from the couch to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

This is such a fucking mess already.

He’s taken aback by the sound of someone knocking on the door. Automatically he grabs his sidearm from the coffee table, holding it low as he moves to the front door.

“Javi?” a familiar voice asks.

Javi opens the door, placing his gun down on the hallway table.

“Really?” you ask, watching the scene from the doorway with raised eyebrows.

“How’d you know where I live?” he asks, returning to the doorway and tapping his fingers on top of the door jamb as he leans against the doorframe.

“I may have access to paperwork,” you say, a slightly shifty expression on your face. “They have a few of the attachés housed in this building, I think.”

“That is kind of creepy, Blue. Just turning up like this and looking at paperwork and -”

“Shut up. Please shut up.”

“If I just turned up -”

“I’m leaving,” you say, lips pursed together with annoyance or frustration.

Javi smiles in spite of himself, reaches out to touch your arm. He can smell your perfume; crisp and bright. Citrus and sharp notes rather than the softer vanilla and gourmand perfumes he’s used to. It suits you.

“It’s fine.”

He holds the door open for you, lets you walk right into his apartment. He notices how you scan the space around you, brush imaginary dust off your clothes.

You’ve changed since the office; you’re dressed more casually. A loose t-shirt with a band logo, jeans and sandals. You look younger, more how he remembers you. He’d always been Rafa’s friend, not yours, but sometimes you’d talk to him when he was waiting for Rafa or if you bumped into him in town.

You used to be like that; friendly. Your childhood nickname of Blue was a reference to the flowers you loved as a child, and it wasn’t just bluebonnets, it was any flowers at one point. It was a misnomer though, a joke on a joke, because you’d never seemed morose when you were young. You were always cheerful, optimistic, almost unfailingly positive. Even now, Javi sees that brightness in you, a little duller, a little dampened by time. It’s still there though, shining through layers of bureaucracy.

“So, what’s going on?” he asks. He wonders if you’ve heard about him sending that agent and his partner to Cali, if you’ve come all this way to admonish him.

He braces himself for the criticism, for the scolding at breaching processes, at not telling you. He had to do something though.

“You were right.”

Javi doesn’t skip a beat, manages to hide his surprise. “Obviously. So, you came all this way to tell me that?”

“I -”

“What was I right about again, cariño?” he asks, aiming for lazy disinterest but genuinely curious.

“They want me to block you. They’re working on the surrender and the gas thing - they just covered it up, Javi. People died. Children died, and hundreds got sick and it’s just swept under the carpet? The Cali cartel face no consequences for this? I - they just surrender and no one knows?”

Javi doesn’t say anything. He’s not entirely sure what your play is, if you’re testing him or if what you are saying is genuine.

You look wrecked though; he can see the frustration and despair in your eyes, a familiar expression he’s faced in the mirror more than once since he joined the DEA.

It’s real. It’s real, or you’re the best damn actress he’s ever met.

“You must hate me.”

“Nah, not really. It’s - maybe I need someone to help keep me in the lines.” If he had had you a few years ago, maybe Cali wouldn’t be in the same place right now. Martinez’ words earlier, the way he looked at Javi, repeat again and again in his mind.

When you sell your soul to the devil, you’re not allowed to ask for it back.

Javi needs to stop the Cali cartel, to arrest the godfathers, to prove it can be done and that justice, justice will matter. He thinks it might be the only way he’ll know peace right now. He’s trying, he’s trying so fucking hard to make it right this time.

If they let him. Hell, if you let him. They even chose a ghost from home to be the person who’s there to block him, stop him. Javi swears it’s deliberate.

“What did you say earlier? Checks and balances matter. That’s right too.”

“Oh, because I’ve been thinking and it’s all fucked up. I think we need to still - people need to see them in handcuffs, through the system, that’s what’s needed.”

“Okay,” Javi says, unsure of where you’re taking this, certain he’s misunderstanding the message between your words.

“And it does matter, doing this right does matter. You and me, we make this watertight, by the book, but we have to get them, Javi. We have to get them.”

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hyunsvngs · 7 months

Note

Having a girls night with fem!lixie and she confesses that she doesn't really enjoy sex because her bf can't satisfy her so you take it into your own hands to show her how good it could feel

been thinking about this for days and i'm finally answering it baby. bc imagine both of u in cute lil matching shortie pyjamas and ur painting her nails... tw lixie is secretly evil

you're halfway through painting her nails a pretty pink. they're not too long, only just about reaching the end of her dainty little fingers. the colour is sheer, but you're planning on layering it until you look up and see a confused little pout on her face. "what is it, lixie?" you question, tilting your head to the side. "do you not like the colour? i thought this is the one you chose, right?"

"no, the colour's perfect," she sighs. you put the tiny paintbrush back in the pot, screwing the top on and putting it to her bedside table. her whole room is bathed in a soft pink glow, courtesy of a cute salt lamp and her overall vibe. when you turn back to her. she's staring down at her nails, her short blonde mullet wavy against the long column of her neck. "do you ever think you might be gay?"

you almost choke on air. "lixie, baby, i am into women. you knew that, right?"

lixie blinks, and then she's holding back a laugh. "you're right. i knew that," she shakes her head, rubbing her temples with one small hand. "i just mean... i've been dating that guy i told you about for a while now. i just don't feel a spark with any guy i date. they can never... y'know."

you raise your eyebrows. "they can never make you cum?"

she bites her lip, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "no! none of them can. so, i was gonna ask you if like... you'd help me try, since we're best friends, and then i'll know if i can cum, or even if i'm gay, and it won't even be awkward because we love eachother so much and-"

"yes," you cut her off. maybe you're being selfish, because you've wanted to get your hands on her for so long, but who cares. it's what best friends are for, right? lixie gasps at your intrusion, before she's shrugging and trying to act nonchalant. she does this a lot, screwing her cute little face up and her eyes soft but nervous. her pyjamas are soft when you let your hands go to her thighs, the pastel pink satin matching your own lilac ones. "lixie, honey, it's just me. we don't have to do anything if you're not comfortable."

she throws herself on top of you, finally dry nails on her hands going into your hair. she pauses, up close to your face, and you see her eyes flitting to your lips. her freckles are darker than normal, given that summer has just passed, and she looks so fucking beautiful you can't help but sigh. as soon as the noise passes your lips, lixie is kissing you, her tongue desperate as she darts it into your mouth.

"baby, calm down," you giggle, pushing her back onto the bed. her soft blonde waves fan out over her pillow, and she huffs, thrashing her legs. "it's just me-"

"i know it's just you, but i- you're hot, you know that," you shake your head fondly, trying to hold back a laugh. you don't even stop her when she unbuttons her pyjama shirt, yanking it off of her narrow shoulders and exposing cute, perky tits in a white lace bralette. she's just as impatient taking her shorts off, dragging them down lithe legs and exposing her matching panties. you can see how wet her pussy is through the lace, and you scoff. already?

you can't help it anymore. you giggle, shutting your eyes in disbelief. "lixie, was this all a ploy to get me into bed? you're awfully wet already."

when you open your eyes, there's a pink blush beneath her freckles. "okay, yeah, i knew you'd help me cum. he's really bad in bed, and you're sexy and clearly make me very wet. is that... i'm evil, aren't i?"

"you're a little bit evil," you muse, running your thumb over her clothed folds. "i kinda knew all along, though. slut." it's affectionate, but still makes her keen. her toned tummy jumps as you tease her, lithe legs falling further apart.

"mm, touch me more," she begs, her teeth digging into her plush bottom lip. she looks like the cat who finally got the cream. she's evil, she'd planned this, but you're so, so into it. "make me cum, yeah?"

you lean down, kissing her lips again before murmuring against them. "i'll make you cum over and over, evil girl."

#juno’s asks ♡#asks: felix #fem!skz

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not-a-space-alien · 30 days

Text

Tinytopia Chapter 5: Endless Rebirth (Part 1)

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta/sensitivity reader @appelsiinilight!

In this chapter: Marcy starts to refocus her efforts on life at home, just in time to receive yet another visitor.

Warning: This chapter features a dog mauling that goes slightly above the intensity usual for this story.

***

Out in the park, a young borrower wobbled through the grass. Dirt stuck to his fur and under his fingernails, and he wandered around lost until a tree nearby turned and bent over to scrutinize him through the knots in its trunk.

“Oh, hello?” the borrower said, backing up nervously.

You seem lost, whispered a voice like wind creaking through branches. What are you doing here?

“I don't really know,” the borrower said. “Sorry. I'm all alone, though. Hey, what are you? You're the only talking tree here, I think.”

The tree creaked and swayed for a moment. Then: I am a dryad, and I think I know where you should go.

***

Marcy’s first act as a full-time housekeeper was to take stock of everyone who was already in the house. They’d been managing mostly fine without her, but Moon was right. There were more little creatures running around, and if this was going to be Marcy’s main focus, she could spend her time thinking of ways to make life here better for them.

Thistle had always known Marcy was smart, but he was awed to see her in action. She was a bundle of nerves, of course–she always was–but now that her attention was fully on things here at home, it became obvious just how passionate she was and how hard and quickly she worked. It seemed like her failed PhD program was forgotten almost instantly.

The first step was to help Thistle, who also seemed similarly overwhelmed by everyone new showing up, make his guest book. It was a large book for Thistle’s standards, but small for Marcy–the size that a human could write in it, albeit with some difficulty, and allow plenty of room for denizens with tinier hands to write without being overwhelmed. It was a good compromise–and Marcy got something from the craft store that would be a bit sturdier than a notebook, a bound book with blank pages and a cover ready for decorating. Thistle put off ramping up his sellable art projects for just a bit to decorate it. It didn’t take too long.

Then he went around and made an entry for everyone. Marcy at the same time made a note of their wants, needs, and habits, in case she could spot anything that could be coordinated or made better for everyone.

Thistle insisted Marcy be on the first page. Then the other humans: Teddy and Colin. They were here first, so might as well go in chronological order.

Teddy and Colin were the owners of the house, so it was important to make sure they were okay with everything going on. Well, Colin was the owner of the house, but he mostly cared about using the house to make Teddy happy. Both of them had been pretty gracious about everything, but Marcy would still need to ask permission for major changes. They worked alternating schedules, sometimes on the weekends and sometimes off on weekdays.

Mochi was put in the basement when none of the humans were home–that was just for safety. Marcy’s continual presence there would be good for her, too–the cat would have to spend less time locked away meowing mournfully to be let out, since Marcy could make sure she didn’t pose a threat to any of the tiny creatures.

Then there was Thistle, of course. He was the star of the show, in Marcy’s opinion. He was usually awake at 9 or 10AM until about midnight. He slept either in Marcy’s hand or, more recently, he’d taken to sleeping with Moon on the desk or nightstand in Marcy’s room. He alternated, wanting to sleep with them both but knowing Moon wasn’t comfortable sleeping on top of Marcy yet. He spent most of his days in the living room: his art supplies were on the floor, his little painted castle with his clothes and knickknacks was there, and he could hop up on the couch to watch TV when he wanted to. He made paintings and drawings and clay figurines and sold them all online. He had his silkworms there, too, for petting and taking their silk and the occasional snack. He would practice flying when he had someone to help him–which would be a lot more often now that Marcy would be home basically full-time.

Jewel, of course, spent all his time in the fish tank. He’s been warming up to socializing more, albeit slowly–very slowly. He was free to keep his own schedule, although he was mostly limited to sleeping at night when no one was in the living room with him to keep him awake. Sometimes Colin would talk him into letting himself be scooped up and taken out for various social activities–Colin was really the only one he trusted to do that, although he was starting to open up to Marcy and Teddy a bit more, too.

Violet and Petunia had been given permission from the humans to live in the walls and very rarely came out–they were by the far the most introverted members of the household. When Thistle wanted to get ahold of them, he usually walked over to this little crevice in the dining room baseboard, stuck his head in, and yelled for them. If he did that for long enough, it would summon Violet eventually. He had managed to get them to come to a few social gatherings, but never for very long at a time. Violet always acted like she had places to be and important things to be doing, although maybe that was just because she was jittery, in more or less constant motion. Petunia always loved coming out, although even she would start to obviously lose her stamina for socializing after two or three hours and start to nod off.

Severa spent most of her time occupied with whatever activity Thistle was doing, seeing him as her main source of nourishment now that she no longer hunted and relied on their bond to sustain herself. She didn’t seem to have any strong preferences about socializing or activities, just sort of letting herself be subjected to whatever everyone else around her wanted to do. The only exception was when Petunia came out, because she prioritized fawning over the baby above everything else. She spent most of her time in the wooden house Thistle had helped her put together and decorate, which was on the living room floor beside his own. Every time anyone gave her a gift she did not know how to properly use, she simply put it in there, so that she had a sort of miniature treasure hoard that she slept in like a dragon. But she’d also stuffed the wooden house full of fluff and blankets to make it a proper nest. Thistle could tell it was because she was half-hoping it would host an egg or a child someday, but for now it made it very cozy for Thistle to sit in with her when he felt like it. He was getting more comfortable around her–he wasn’t scared to sit in her coils anymore, having complete confidence she wouldn’t attack him.

Moon kind of wandered around. They were sure to always keep a window cracked open for him, so he could visit without feeling trapped in the house. He vanished into the night outside sometimes, but he spent a lot of time bathing in the moonlight on a windowsill or roof. Thistle kept asking him not to go out and seduce anyone else and Moon assured him he wouldn’t, just that he was often seized by wanderlust that he needed to get out of his system. He complained endlessly about the light during the day, but he’d shifted to more of a half-diurnal, half-nocturnal schedule to spend more time with Thistle. He made himself at home wherever he happened to be–and spent more time than not hanging around Thistle–but apparently felt no need for a house or nest to call his own. He had his magical shrinking wardrobe that seemed to carry every possession he thought worth keeping.

And now Marigold and Córva were here. Marigold was healthy enough that it was probably okay to leave him alone, but Thistle was still loath to leave him for any long amount of time. He spent most of his time in the living room next to Thistle’s house, passing his time doing the exercises the vets recommended for him, writing in Pixish or drawing, watching TV, or reading on Thistle’s phone–Thistle had convinced him to start learning English, although he didn’t seem to be very excited for it. They’d set up a baby gate to keep Mochi out of the room–Marigold was clearly afraid of her, although she’d shown no major signs of aggression around him. Córva hung around outside, mostly in and around the lovely little birdhouse Colin had built for her, and she would swoop down to meet Marigold whenever Thistle wheeled him outside. Teddy brought birdseed out for her, which she always ate happily, though she didn’t seem dependent on it, thankfully, since she was still a wild bird and could come and go as she pleased.

That just left Trilloras, the social-phobic dryad. Planted out in the yard. Thistle had stood by her sapling and begged and pleaded for her to come out over and over again, but nobody ever got any response from her. Marcy was starting to think maybe she’d imagined the whole thing, but Thistle and Moon always confirmed they’d seen Trilloras, too.

He really wanted her to sign the guest book, though.

“Come on,” he whined, lying out in the grass. “Just for five minutes. I won’t tell anyone!”

No response.

“You’re living in our yard, you know!”

No response.

Thistle groaned and rolled over. Marcy retrieved the guest book from where it lay in the grass beside him. “We could just try again tomorrow, hm?”

Thistle kicked his feet. “Why won’t she just come out, though? Ugh!”

Marcy scooped him up. “Come on, if she doesn’t want to sign it, she won’t sign it. It’s not the end of the world.”

Thistle crossed his arms and let himself be ferried back towards the porch.

Marcy smiled at him.

“What?”

“I just think you’re cute.”

Thistle blushed to the tips of his ears. “What am I doing that’s cute?”

“You have so many friends back in the house, but you’re stuck on making one more out here.”

Thistle crossed his arms. “It’s just not right that she’s in our yard and won’t talk to me. Right?”

“Just be patient.”

Marcy stopped. There was a borrower on the steps. Looking up at Marcy with ears twitching and tail lashing. He was young, fresh, and bright-eyed.

“Oh, hello!” Marcy said, keeping her voice low. He must be new. She'd never seen him. That was a different one, right? “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Do you know Violet and Petunia?”

The borrower rubbed his hands nervously.

Thistle leaned over Marcy’s hand, peering at the unknown borrower curiously. “Do you speak English?”

His mouth struggled to form words, then he nodded. “Yes,” he said bashfully. “I’m just shy. Sor-sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Marcy knelt down, letting Thistle off into the soft grass. “It’s great to meet you. What’s your name? I’m Marcy, and this is Thistle.”

The borrower clambered down the stairs, hoisting himself with his strong arms. “My name’s Jax.”

“It’s great to meet you. Do you need something?” Obviously it would be fine if he didn’t–Marcy would be excited about any magical creature staying here for any reason at all–but since borrowers seemed so shy, it felt… odd to see one approach so openly and directly, and with no apparent goal, as a complete stranger.

Jax stopped by Marcy’s shoe. Thistle gave little jumps of excitement but said nothing.

“A dryad told me this is a place where lots of different magical creatures live in peace,” Jax said. “Even predators. Is that true?”

“Yes!” Thistle shouted, excited. “Yes, it’s so true! You can come live here, too!”

Marcy turned back towards Trilloras’s tree. “A dryad told you that?”

Jax followed her gaze. “A dryad far away. Is that a dryad too?” His tail swished excitedly.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t want to come out and talk,” Thistle said sourly. “You talked to a different dryad?’

Jax nodded. “And she said everyone lives in peace here, even predators! I wanted to see it for myself. A bunch of different kinds of creatures living together! Even predators!”

How would a second dryad have known about their house, and why would it have told this random borrower to come here? It was... strange. Confusion overtook Marcy's excitement briefly.

“You’re welcome to see it!” Thistle cheered. He didn't seem to care about the details much at all, too excited about the paradise they were building. “Yes, yes! Come on inside!”

“Er, we just met Jax,” Marcy interjected, noting Jax’s demeanor. “I don’t know if he’d be comfortable coming inside just yet.” And this whole thing felt...fishy.

Jax nervously swished his tail.

“We could bring someone out here to meet you,” Marcy said. She had all day, after all. She could bring Severa and Moon and Jewel and Violet out one at a time and just watch them all talk. The thought made her giddy. This was so much better than a PhD program. “Did you want to meet… A predator?” He’d sounded so excited about it.

Jax nodded. “That sounds lovely!”

“Okay. Wait right there. Thistle, wanna come so you can translate?” There was still a bit of a language barrier between Marcy and Severa, although they’d both been working to close it. But best not to have any misunderstandings.

Thistle nodded, and Marcy picked him up. “Okay. Wait right there, Jax. We’ll be right back.”

Marcy went inside and found Severa upstairs, looking out the second-story window. “Who were you talking to?” she asked.

“There’s a new friend!” Thistle said. “Another borrower! Do you want to meet him?”

Severa flicked her tongue out. “Yes, as long as he also wants to meet me.”

“He does!” Marcy said. “He…”

She trailed off, because something caught her eye out the window behind Severa. Oh no. Oh, no. Buster, the neighbor’s dog, was trotting right towards their front yard.

“Shit!” Marcy dashed away immediately, leaving Thistle and Severa in the dust. She leapt down the stairs as fast as humanly possible, nearly falling if not for the bannister. She threw the front door open just as Buster started to bark.

Jax was standing in front of the dryad sapling, examining it while biting his finger. His ears swiveled as he heard the dog rapidly approaching.

Apparently Jax did not possess very good survival instincts, because he turned to face the dog barreling towards him with its mouth open and teeth exposed–and did nothing.

“Shit!” Marcy shouted, sprinting over. “Jax, run!”

It was too late. Buster reached the borrower and snapped his jaws around him. The tiny, furry body disappeared with a pained, high-pitch squeak.

“Buster!” Marcy shouted. “Drop it! Fuck! Drop it!”

She tried to reach out to grab his collar, but he dashed away from her like they were playing a fun game. “Drop it!” Marcy screamed. The image of Jax’s body disappearing into that maw was burned into her brain.

After an agonizing minute of chasing him in circles as his tail wagged, Marcy finally managed to catch his collar. “Drop it! Drop it!” Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision, but she refused to let go or give up. She forced Buster’s head towards the ground.

Buster finally opened his mouth and let the drool-covered bundle drop into the grass.

“Shit!” Marcy said, seizing Jax immediately. His body ragdolled in her hand, and oh God, there was so much blood.

She clutched him to her chest and went back inside, slamming the door.

***

They made an emergency call to Lalitha and Jaden, but it was obvious Jax was dead on arrival. Thistle tearfully pressed his ear to Jax’s chest to listen for a heartbeat. Severa checked his pulse and smelled him over for signs of life. Moon tried what healing magic he had, but the borrower’s body was so ravaged by the dog’s enormous teeth that he’d probably died more or less instantly.

Colin blew his lid when he found out what’d happened. He stormed to the neighbor’s house immediately, and the volume of his shouting at her could be heard even all the way from Marcy’s bedroom. He couldn’t very well say that Buster had murdered someone, though–so he settled for saying Buster had killed a small animal Marcy had been fond of, which wasn’t exactly a lie, and that this was the last straw and if he saw Buster loose on the lawn again, he was going to call animal control.

The neighbor promised to keep a closer eye on the dog, then got away from him as quickly as possible. Colin was still fuming when he got back to the house.

He decided it was finally time to put up a fence. Their property was big enough that they couldn't really fence in the whole thing, but Colin had enough handyman know-how to put up a fence at least around the immediate vicinity of the house. Chainlink was the perfect option, since it'd allow small creatures to slip through but block bigger ones. The humans all had to pool together their money to get the funds for it, but they all agreed it needed to be an immediate priority. Marcy still walked around looking shellshocked, and she constantly stayed in the same room as Thistle, hovering protectively.

Not even Violet had any success getting ahold of Jax’s family or friends, so they buried his body in the backyard and had a little funeral themselves. Marcy set up a little grave with a headstone, and they all stood around looking very solemn.

“A damn shame,” Teddy said. “No little critter deserves that.”

“Yeah…” Thistle said. He was crying mightily.

“Does anyone want to say anything else?” Marcy said.

“Um,” said a small, unknown voice. “I could. Who are we mourning?”

All eyes fell on the new voice–which was–

It was Jax. Just standing there at his own funeral. He looked just as fresh and bright-eyed as a few hours ago before he’d been mauled to death. Not even a tear in his clothes, or a hair out of place.

Marcy blinked at him. “Uhhh-” She looked from the grave to the new Jax, as though trying to figure out how he might have crawled out of the little shoebox coffin they’d made him. But no. He’d clearly come from a different direction, approaching while they were all looking at the grave.

“You're dead,” Severa said bluntly.

Jax blushed. “Um, no, I'm just fine. See?” He did a handstand, tail wiggling in the air.

“Hey, uh, Jax…” Thistle said. “You're not… actually a borrower, are you?”

Jax inverted himself upright sheepishly.

***

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stvharrngton · 7 months

Text

a lesson in romantics; lesson six

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: i never really intended on this being a slowburn LMAO but i guess that's what it is now! also i am finding it increasingly difficult to not include 'y/n' or 'y/l/n' anywhere in this give me strength pls 😭

characters: steve harrington, robin buckley, only mentions of the reader

word count: 0.9k

warnings: none really, steve gets a little flustered, cursing

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nix-rose

series taglist: @pbs-theundeadmaggot @alana4610 @onceuponaoneshot

SERIES MASTERLIST

HAWKINS HIGH, DECEMBER 1992

Steve was the cool teacher.

The self-proclaimed chill teacher who spoke to his students like normal people, the teacher who shared everything with his kids.

But there was one subject that was secretly off limits, a silent rule within the classroom of Mr. Harrington. And that was Steve’s love life.

It was a Thursday afternoon and Steve was in the middle of his sophomore history class, the students quietly reading a chapter from the textbook when one of the girls near the back piped up with an interesting question.

“Do you like the new art teacher, Mr. H?”

Steve’s ears pricked up at the insinuating nature of the question, lowering his glasses so they perched on the bridge of his nose.

“She has a name, Olivia,” Steve replied, eyes scanning the room as other students started listening in on the conversation, “but sure I like her, she’s a good teacher.” Steve shrugged.

Steve hoped that would be the end of this truly awkward conversation, exhaling through his nose as he noticed Olivia leaning towards the girl who was sitting next to her, whispering something in her ear causing them to giggle.

“Girls,” Steve warned, never one for hard discipline but surely worried about where exactly this conversation was going if it carried on any longer.

The rumblings died down but not for long before Olivia popped up with another question for Steve.

“Do you have a crush on her, Mr. H?” Olivia asked, a totally innocent facade painted onto her face. The glass erupted into giggles and hushed conversation between the students as Steve pinched his eyebrows together with finger and thumb, groaning as he stood from his desk chair.

“That’s enough now, guys, come on,” hands on hips in his signature pose, that combined with his tone of voice had the kids simmering down in an instant, smirks still evident on their faces as they went back to reading.

Steve sighed, dragging his palm over his face as he sat back down when it dawned on Steve. The realisation went off like a clock tower striking at midnight as all the colour drained from his face. Olivia and her gaggle of friends were the very same group of girls that were early to your class the same morning Steve brought you coffee. The same morning that Steve’s attempt at flirting with you got cut short.

The bell soon rang signalling the end of the lesson and the end of the school day. The kids soon rushed out of the classroom, waving and saying goodbye to their teacher all whilst Steve reminded them of the homework that was due on Monday.

“Fuck,” Steve sighed, collecting his things in his arms as he made his way out, locking the door behind him. Was it really that obvious? Sure, Steve liked you, he had made peace with that now but was he so bold that even the kids had noticed how he acted a little different around you?

Barging into the teacher’s lounge as inconspicuous as he could, he made a beeline for Robin. Politely smiling at the other teachers Robin was sitting with and excusing himself for his abruptness, he placed his large palm on his best friend’s shoulder, “Can I talk to you? Like, now?”

Taking her hand in his, he pulled her out into the hallway, making sure the coast was clear before he spoke. “I’m in deep shit Robin!” Steve exclaimed, yet his tone still hushed, his hands wailing in the air.

“Wait,” Robin spoke, eyes scanning quickly across Steve’s face, trying to figure out whatever is the matter with him, “calm down, Steve, Jesus! What’s going on?”

“A group of kids in my last class started asking stupid questions,” he started, his brain almost working too fast for his mouth, “and then Olivia Johnson asked if I have a crush on–”

“Steve,” Robin sighed, cutting him off before he could finish, already knowing who he was going to say before he could say himself.

“--and now I’m just worrying, I guess, like– am I being too obvious about it? Am I doing too much? Fuck, Robin, I just don’t want this spreading round the whole school and–”

“Steve!” Robin spoke louder this time, doing her most to get Steve to stop rambling, “Just be quiet for a second, please?”

Steve sighed but nodded nonetheless, agreeing to let Robin unload her advice on him, whether he wanted it or not.

“You like her, right? I mean, I know you do, we all know you do,” she exaggerated with her hands as she spoke, referring to their friend group, “and deep down I know you wanna ask her out so I think you should just bite the bullet and do it.” Robin ended the last sentence with a shrug, seeing the solution to all of Steve’s problems so clearly. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen, she says no and you move on.”

Robin made it sound so easy. Sure, he could suck it up and ask you out, but what if you did say no? Steve feared it wouldn’t be as easy as moving on like Robin suggested. Steve’s crush on you was becoming no laughing matter, more meaningful as the days went by. He wasn’t sure he would be able to recover from the heartache of your rejection, as dramatic as that sounded.

“Maybe,” Steve murmured, hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze fixated on his shoes. He moved back and forth with the idea.

She rolled her eyes at him in response, shaking her head at his stubbornness, “You are so smart in so many ways, Steve,” Robin chuckled, “but you need to get out of your head sometimes.”

Maybe just this once he would take Robin’s advice.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #teacher!steve #alir #k.fic

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