#Welcome to blended learning

[stepseduworldblog]

Unlocking Opportunities: How a Trusted Education & Career Coach Facilitates Study in the UK

In the vibrant city of Dubai, where innovation meets tradition, the journey of Trusted Education & Career Coaches and consultants unfolds with promising opportunities and transformative innovations. As Dubai continues to position itself as a global hub for education and business, students in the region are witnessing a dynamic evolution in the way they learn, explore career paths, and prepare for the future. In this blog post, we delve into the multifaceted aspects of education and career opportunities for Dubai students, from emerging trends in learning to the diverse pathways in the professional realm.

Virtual Reality Classrooms: Stepping into Tomorrow

Imagine students donning VR headsets, transported to ancient civilizations or exploring molecular structures up close. Virtual reality classrooms are revolutionizing learning, turning textbooks into immersive experiences. In Dubai, where innovation is a way of life, VR classrooms are poised to reshape traditional learning paradigms.

One of the defining characteristics of modern education in Dubai is the integration of cutting-edge technologies that enhance learning experiences. Virtual reality (VR) classrooms have emerged as a game-changer, offering students immersive and interactive environments that transcend traditional teaching methods. Imagine a history lesson where students can virtually visit ancient civilizations or a science class where they explore complex molecular structures up close. VR classrooms not only make learning engaging but also foster deeper understanding and retention of concepts.

[molagboop]

Mawkin children undergo several maturity rites before they're granted full tribal citizenship. The first occurs around eight years old, involving a basic academic evaluation and the child's choice between a physical fitness test or a dream-walk.

The evals are simple: how much has the child learned, what do they know, where can we supplement their education, etc. How can we stimulate their curiosity and foster a lifelong love of learning? Have they displayed any skills or passion for any particular subject? How can we encourage their hobbies and interests? Those are the kinds of questions the adults involved in carrying out the evaluation are asking themselves.

The evaluations help parents figure out (or reaffirm what they already know) ways to engage their childrens' interests in a fun or productive way, and how to help their child along the path to success, academic or otherwise. Every child is different: they have their own needs, and while 8 years old isn't old enough for anyone to ascertain exactly what they wanna be when they grow up, the evaluation is a good starting point for the rest of their academic track until their next formative rites.

The next part of the rites is a branching path. The fitness test is typically favored by more outdoorsy or athletic types, as well as children who are afraid of specters or arent very interested in the old ways. That's fine: old people stuff can be boring! The priests go on and on about the ancestors during holidays, but you're eight years-old and you've never seen the ancestors show up before, so big whoop. You've got toys to play and things to learn.

Another general assumption is that children who are likely to grow into steadfast warriors or athletes may pick the fitness test enthusiastically and without thinking about it, but again, this is an evaluation, and the kids are like, eight. Nothing is set in stone. Eight year olds also typically love playing outside.

A number of kids, hearing about all the cool things their elders know and are capable of, or just being curious about what their ancestors might have to teach them, opt for the dream-walk.

The dream-walk involves exposure to psychoactive fumes, but is nonetheless completely safe: the kid is monitored and made as comfortable as possible.

The dream-walk is overseen by priests and doctors. The burners are lit and the trial-goer falls asleep, entering a state similar to lucid dreaming.

Everyone's experience is different. Some kids have profound surreal experiences: others spend the entire time sitting at a table with a long-dead ancestor having a meal. Some kids are shown events from the past by an old ghost: some even experience said event from the perspective of someone who was there when it happened.

For others, the dream is of an old-fashioned hunt, typically guided by a departed grandparent or neighbor. It's not unusual for Mawkin kids to have experienced the act of hunting for food or sport by this point in their lives: many who hunt take their babies out with them on their backs. The quarry during the dream-walk, however, is typically more than your mundane game beast.

Tribal scholars and doctors of psychology have posited that the dream walk largely reflects the experiences of those involved. Formative memories and strong feelings, they believe, greatly affect the appearance of conjured apparitions in the dream. If a kid is fighting any demons at eight years old or harbor any powerful fears, they may very well be forced to face them head-on during this trial.

Therein lies the value of the dream-walk: it's not just a curiosity to get the kids to engage with cultural practices of yore, it has utility in teaching children valuable lessons through experience without actually making them fight the six-eyed serpent of a hundred and seventeen mouths. And they're usually not facing it alone: the ancestors quite literally walk with plenty of kids during these trials.

There are some truths a given child must face alone, and plenty do. But when they wake, they will find themselves among familiar company, the sweet smell of wood smoke permeating the air and a feast awaiting back home to celebrate their first milestone towards becoming an adult.

Some kids don't fight any major bosses or experience the heat death of the universe through the eyes of a slug, instead deriving value from the dream-walk in the form of sensory-guided introspection. The lesson they learn may not even be apparent to them until six years down the line. It doesn't have to be deep: it can just be an experience that gives then a new perspective on the world.

The senses are heightened supremely during the dream-walk, allowing the dreamer to experience the world in a whole new way. Tasting color, feeling the vibration of every sound beneath one's skin, perceiving the shape of every smell. Even if the kid walks away thinking "huh, I've never experienced the world that way before", the trial will have been a success. In the very least, a child should come out of that dark room with a unique memory for them to examine later on.

Several minor rituals and evaluations occur around twelve and fifteen years, but the foremost citizenship rites occur around seventeen, when an individual's stomach is strong enough to handle sap wine in greater quantities without suffering catastrophic liver failure. The dream-walk is a requirement this time around, as well as a combat test. The combat test is the actual rite that determines one's status as an adult: the mandatory dream-walk occurs beforehand as a way to shed all doubts about the strength of one's resolve if they have any insecurities, and perhaps gain some personal insight in the process. Introspection assisted by psychoactive substances.

You may be wondering how those with varying degrees of disability come of age if they can't engage in the rite of combat. There are alternatives to the combat test if the participant doesn't feel able enough to fight, or otherwise can't exert themselves without experiencing undue pain and discomfort.

There are alternative rites for individuals of every combination of physical and cognitive impairment, and all are treated with the same gravity and dignity afforded to the typical rites. Poetry recitals, music, research projects, an oath of maturity: these are a few examples of things disabled Mawkin have done to establish their claim to adulthood in place of the rite of combat. An individual doesn't have to be "good" at something: they just have to show that they accept the responsibility that comes with being an adult, or are otherwise committed to their community and the tribe at large.

For some people, that commitment comes in the form of thriving to the best of their ability. Surviving to the next day, striving for tomorrow to hurt a little less than yesterday. It doesn't matter whether they can "contribute" or be a "productive member of society": all are one, and one serves all. The Mawkin take community very seriously. There's an age-old adage that says something to the effect of "if one is suffering, all are injured", and "when one is deprived of dignity, we are all cast naked face-down into the mud".

Anyways, that's how juvenile Mawkin are granted all the rights, responsibilities and privileges that come saddled with being an adult. It's worth noting that most of these rites line up with a typical Chozo's molting cycle, with the final rites occurring just as young warriors are shaking off the last loose feathers of their old coat and displaying their first (clear) adult patterns.

[absolutely-esme]

What do you mean he's not eldritch?

What if all of the members of the Bat Family other than Tim Drake were secretly eldritch abominations?

They all work very hard at pretending to be human, and they've even gotten pretty good at passing. They can even mostly avoid the uncanny valley when in their civilian identities. There was a heck of a learning curve, but they've gotten things figured out for the most part.

Enter: Tim Drake

Weird, poorly socialized, probably autistic Tim Drake

The Bats think they've encountered a fellow eldritch being in disguise, and one that seems like he could use some help blending in. Naturally, they're quick to welcome him into their fold. Jason is delighted to take his turn at being a big brother mentor.

It takes a comedically long time for anyone to realize something's up because there is an absurd amount of overlap between stuff you need to know for masking and stuff you need to know to pass as human.

Meanwhile, Tim is amazed that the Bats have apparently decided he's cool enough to hang out with. It's like something out of his daydreams. They even have good advice for him on problems he hadn't known how to ask about. They are so patient and understanding about it, too. They never get annoyed with him for not already knowing. They also seem to be okay with the bits of weirdness he can't change.

Just weird kid Tim getting bundled into an incredibly helpful and supportive found family of eldritch entities. They're all going to get a good grade in human-ing, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.

...

I imagine the Bats are various different kinds of eldritch abominations because they're still adopted. They look wildly different when not in human form.

Bruce is a mass of... shadows? Smoke? Something dark and formless that shifts and flows in different ways depending on his mood.

Dick kind of looks like a pile of owls that is also somehow a single body.

Barbara is a spiral galaxy with stars that are also eyes somehow?

Jason is a solid-looking mass of muscle with six strong legs, a thick coat of shaggy hair, a mouth that opens much further along his body than it seems like it should, and even more teeth than you'd expect a mouth that size to have.

Stephanie Brown is kind of like an incredibly dense storm system with purple glitter.

Cassandra is a silhouette through which undiscovered nebulae can be seen. What she is a silhouette of depends on her mood.

Tim, they have only ever seen in his meticulously well-crafted human form. He's really good at that part even if he needed some help with the behavioral bits.

Damian is half human. Talia saw a mass of living darkness trying really hard to pretend to be a man and decided she was into that.

...

Dick: So, eye contact is actually pretty simple once you have the formula figured out. You need to cycle between looking at the other person and looking at something else at the appropriate frequency. If you look at them too much it will come across as staring. If you look away for too long they'll think you're not paying attention to them. You'll need to experiment to figure out the appropriate frequency.

Tim: *frets*

Jason: You don't have to look straight at their eyes, just in the general direction of their face.

Tim: Oh! I can do that!

...

I think Eldritch Bruce having history with the league of assassins in a markedly less inentional way than Canon would be funny. Like, you'd think an encounter between an eldritch abomination and a cult would be deliberate on someone's part, but no.

Bruce was still young and unskilled at differentiating between normal and abnormal human behavior.

[sharkfish]

queer is a brick that sometimes you throw and sometimes you use to build something new. queer is a teenage boy crying on the curb, tossed out of his family the same way they toss out rotten food, and queer is the new family he forges with a fierceness he didn't know he had. queer is a girl in love with her best friend and a guy who finally learned the perfect technique for glitter eyeliner and a someone who is standing under a blue clear sky for the first time after decades in cloaked darkness. queer is trying out one name and then another until you feel like yourself. queer is criminal and queer is a sickness. queer is a riot. queer is a quilt so we never forget. queer is meeting eyes with a stranger and seeing them the same way they are seeing you. queer is a jacket that says just drop my body on the steps of the f.d.a. queer is a flag, a pin, a sticker. queer is to be hated and to choose love anyway. queer is accusation and queer is exaltation. queer is the sigh of relief to finally be free. queer is a raunchy joke and a quiet confession and a beloved embrace. queer is to wander without a destination, just looking to see what can be found. queer is resistance. queer is joy. queer is a rainbow, not stripes but colors blending into each other so we’re all the same, even when we’re different. and yeah, maybe queer is a slur, but it’s also a home with a mat on on the front porch that says, you are welcome here.

[omends]

tag dump: chey & myk

《 ° chey ; visage 》 tall dark and handsome / charming and then some ; that boy is all dressed up for a hit and run

《 ° chey ; aesthetic 》 my addictive personality will someday get the best of me

《 ° chey ; isms 》 been blamed for everything since i was born ; i do my best work when im doing wrong

《 ° chey ; musings 》 and though the honesty hurts the lying was worse ; cant take this to the grave

《 ° chey ; interaction 》 im that kind of trouble you know you want to get into ; im the good kind of bad / come play with me ?

《 ° chey ; meta 》 i do this all the time / blending in between the lines of my fiction

《 ° chey ; ship things 》 we can take it slow and you can show me how to slow dance

《 ° chey ; desires 》  i wanna know what its like to feel wanted for more than something thats less than dishonest

《 ° myk ; visage 》 i know how to lose it all to find myself / go ahead call me a liar ; i went to hell and i came back on fucking fire

《 ° myk ; aesthetic 》 when you believe in things you dont understand you suffer

《 ° myk ; isms 》 i died like a saint / was reborn a devil

《 ° myk ; musings 》 when i was a child i heard voices / i learned the voices died with me

《 ° myk ; interaction 》 and theyre crying out ‘please stop youre scaring me’ / god damn right you should be scared of me

《 ° myk ; meta 》 welcome to the storm / i am thunder ; welcome to my table / bring your hunger

《 ° myk ; ship things 》  tell me what youre afraid of ; i could be your halo / i could be the devil thats in your head

《 ° myk ; desires 》  everything you say can and will be held against you / so only say my name

[hookhausenschips]

The Fastlane To Family {KR7}

500 Follower Special!!!

Navigation

Summary: The new rookie slowly becomes the on grid child of the Iceman.

Taglist

——————————————————-

As the newest and youngest member of the Formula 1 grid, I, Y/N, stood beside my race car, inhaling the mixed scents of burnt rubber and high-octane fuel. The roar of the engines filled the air with palpable anticipation.

I glanced around, absorbing the vibrant spectacle, the excited chatter of fans blending with the mechanical symphony of the pit lane. Yet, amidst all the noise and excitement, there lingered a silence in my heart—a void left by a father who walked away from our family when I was just a child.

Growing up, it was just my mom and me. She was my rock, cheering me on from karting races to junior championships. Despite her unending support, there was always a part of me that felt incomplete. I had a father, but I never really had a dad.

It was during my first official test as an F1 driver that I met Kimi Raikkonen. Known as the 'Iceman' for his cool demeanor on track, Kimi was a veteran of the sport, admired by many for his straightforward attitude and racing prowess. As I struggled with the complexities of handling my F1 car, Kimi noticed me.

"Remember, it's all about balance and knowing your limits," he advised one afternoon as he watched me analyze some telemetry data that looked more like a cryptic puzzle.

I nodded, feeling somewhat star-struck. "Thanks, Kimi. It's just a lot to take in all at once."

"You’ll get there. It takes time," he replied, his voice carrying a calming assurance.

After that initial moment of guidance at my first test session, Kimi’s role in my life began to deepen progressively. It wasn’t just about racing anymore; it was about finding a connection that spanned beyond the track.

Over the next few races, Kimi became a mentor and a friend. His advice was always practical, his presence reassuring. Somehow, he began to fill a gap I hadn't realized was so profound.

As the season progressed, Kimi taught me about resilience, about facing the media, and handling the pressures that came with the sport. His family occasionally visited the races, and I saw the loving father he was to his own children. It was in those moments I felt both a sense of warmth and a twinge of envy.

One evening, after a particularly grueling race in Monaco where I had spun out, Kimi found me sitting alone by the paddock, my head in my hands.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, sitting beside me.

"It's just... sometimes I wonder if I’m cut out for this," I confessed. "I miss having someone to look up to. Someone who's there, you know?"

Kimi looked out into the distance before speaking. "I may not know all about your personal life, but on this track, you're never really alone. We’re a team. And if you ever need a bit of that... fatherly advice, I’m here."

His words were a salve to my bruised confidence.

A pivotal moment came mid-season during a particularly challenging weekend at the British Grand Prix. The weather was unpredictable, and so was my confidence in handling the car under such variable conditions. After a disheartening practice session, Kimi invited me to debrief over coffee, away from the bustling energy of the team garages.

As we sat down in the quiet of the motorhome, Kimi shared stories from his early days—mistakes he'd made and lessons he’d learned. "It's not just about fighting the car," he explained, "but cooperating with it, understanding it like a dance partner." His anecdotes were not only instructive but also peppered with his dry humor, making the lessons stick in a way that technical debriefs often didn't.

As the season progressed, our mentor-mentee relationship started to feel more like a friendship. Kimi invited me to join him and his family for dinner during a race weekend in Monaco. Sitting with his family, sharing laughs, and stories, I felt an inclusion that went beyond my expectations. His wife was warm and welcoming, treating me like a guest of honor, while his children eyed me with curiosity and shy smiles.

Our bond continued to strengthen as we faced various challenges together. During one stressful race in Singapore, where the heat and humidity tested every driver’s endurance, Kimi and I found ourselves fighting for podium positions. Post-race, exhausted yet exhilarated, we shared a long cooldown lap, discussing our individual races and the intense final laps.

“I saw you holding off Carlos behind you,” Kimi said, a note of respect in his voice. “You’re getting stronger every race.”

Hearing such words from Kimi wasn’t just a compliment; it was a form of validation from someone who had seen it all in the world of Formula 1.

Seasons changed, and my career in F1 began to flourish. With Kimi’s guidance, I improved not just my driving, but my understanding of the technical aspects of racing. His presence at critical moments of decision-making became something I relied on more than I had expected.

His mentoring had transcended the cockpit of a race car. Kimi had become a steadfast part of my life—a constant in a world marked by speed and change. Our bond, forged in the fast lanes, was built to last a lifetime, proving that sometimes, family finds you in the most unexpected places.

It was during a pre-race event that a journalist unexpectedly asked about my family. "I understand your father isn’t in the picture. How has that influenced you?"

I paused, looking over at Kimi who was signing autographs nearby, laughing with a young fan. Turning back to the journalist, I smiled.

"I grew up without a dad, that’s true. But I’ve found guidance, strength, and a bit of family right here in the paddock. Kimi’s been a great mentor and a father figure to me."

The racing season was nearing its end, and rumors about Kimi Raikkonen's retirement had been swirling in the paddock for weeks. However, nothing could have prepared me for the moment he confirmed it. We were in the team's motorhome when he gently broke the news to me personally.

"I think it's time for me to step back," Kimi said, his voice steady but his eyes revealing a hint of sadness. "Spend more time with my family, you know?"

I nodded mechanically, trying to process the information, but a storm of emotions was brewing inside me. As he continued to explain his decision, a sense of abandonment enveloped me, growing stronger and darker. It was as if history was repeating itself; just when I thought I had found a figure of stability and support, he was leaving.

"Kimi, you can’t leave," I blurted out, the words laced with a mix of desperation and anger. "You’re just like him—just like my father. You're walking away when I need you most!"

Kimi looked taken aback, his face softening. "Y/N, come here," he said, motioning for me to sit beside him. Hesitantly, I moved closer, trying to hold back tears that were threatening to spill.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, I know this might feel like I’m abandoning you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I'm not leaving your life—I’m just leaving the grid."

The dam broke, and tears streamed down my face. "It just feels like everyone I depend on leaves eventually," I confessed, the pain of past and present mingling together.

Kimi wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a reassuring hug. "Y/N, I’m not your father. I won’t just disappear. I promised to be there for you, and I intend to keep that promise. You’re part of my family now, and that doesn’t end with retirement. You'll always have a place with us, at our table, in our home. Anytime."

His words, genuine and firm, slowly seeped into my heart, easing the ache with the warmth of his assurance. "You mean that?" I asked, looking up at him.

"I do," he confirmed with a nod. "And hey, I'll be around. I’ll come to races when I can. And you’ll always be able to call me, anytime you need—about racing, or about life. Anything.”

As Kimi’s retirement neared, our interactions became tinged with a sense of urgency, each moment feeling more significant. One late afternoon in Italy, Kimi and I took a walk around the track, discussing life beyond racing.

“What worries you about all this ending?” I asked, curious about his thoughts on leaving the world he’d known for so long.

“It’s a big change, sure,” he admitted. “But life’s about phases. You end one chapter and start another. And remember, leaving F1 doesn’t mean disappearing. We’re family now, Y/N. That doesn’t end with retirement.”

His words were comforting, especially as I grappled with my own fears of abandonment. Seeing how he approached his transition with a mix of realism and optimism helped me understand that endings were also beginnings.

As we continued walking, the setting sun cast long shadows on the track, and Kimi stopped to look out over the circuit. “Every turn on this track has a story,” he mused. “Just like every phase in life. Make sure you live them fully, no matter the challenge.”

The conversation lightened my heart and cemented a new kind of bond between us. Kimi’s retirement race came, As Kimi drove his final lap, the crowds cheers felt like a celebration of more than just his career. It was a tribute to the enduring nature of chosen family, to the unbreakable ties that we had formed.

I felt a surge of gratitude. I might have lost a father early in life, but in this world of high speeds and fierce competition, I had gained something invaluable—a family on the track and a father figure who taught me more than just how to drive.

As the fireworks painted the sky, I realized that family isn't always defined by blood, but by the bonds we create and the promises we keep. Kimi had shown me that no matter the distance, those bonds can withstand more than we sometimes believe possible.

——————————————————

F1 Taglist: @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @evie-119, @dhanihamidi, @leclercdior

[hemmingsleclerc]

A Different Christmas CL16

pairing: charlesleclerc x fem!reader

summary: where Charles spends the holidays in his beloved girlfriend's homecity

warnings: probably bad writing, srry

Charles was in uncharted territory when he landed in Mexico City to spend Christmas with his girlfriend. She had invited him to spend the winter holidays with her family in her vibrant, colorful hometown. Charles was excited but also a little bewildered as he entered a world of festive chaos which he had never experienced before.

He had been there for a few races over the years thanks to his job, but he never had the chance to explore or see the city, especially not at this time of year.

The vibrant colors of Mexico were even more enchanting as Christmas lights adorned the streets, casting a warm and festive glow.

The Leclercs were used to a traditional European Christmas, with snow-covered streets and cozy family gatherings. But as Charles walked through the lively markets of Mexico City, he realized that this Christmas would be very different. Colorful piñatas hung from every corner and the air was filled with the tempting aromas of street food.

Y/N's family welcomed Charles with open arms. Some more excited than others, since she had told him some time ago that she entered the world of motorsports thanks to the fanaticism of her uncles. Everyone welcomed him with hugs, making him feel part of the family. The issue of communication was a bit funny because not all of her family knew how to speak English, and Charles had a little knowledge of Spanish because some time ago he had asked Carlos for help to learn and be able to impress her. But in the end, through translations, signs, and Charles's mispronounced Spanish, they began a cheerful conversation on various topics.

Her entire family was amazed by him. Charles had the biggest smile on his face that day.

As the night arrived, Charles couldn't help but be captivated by the vibrant decorations adorning the house. Flickering candles and twinkling lights illuminated it, creating a warm and magical atmosphere. The family gathered around the Christmas tree with gifts stacked beneath it like treasures waiting to be unveiled,and soon the festive melodies of traditional Mexican music filled the air along with the large amount of food placed on the table.

Y/N's younger cousins could not contain their excitement as they prepared to break a huge piñata that was hanging in the yard full of different sweets. Charles, eager to participate, took a look at the colorful creation. With each blow, he couldn't help but marvel at the excitement and laughter that echoed through the night. The whole family participated, including himself.

Y/N couldn't hold back her laughter and take out her phone to record the moment when it was Charles's turn. Her uncle was holding a rope that was tied to the piñata to raise or lower it, preventing whoever was in front of the piñata from hitting it. Charles, grabbing the stick with which he had to hit the piñata, without knowing that, prepared to hit it hard but was surprised when he almost fell on his face at that moment he wanted to because they had lifted the piñata, avoiding him from touching it. He tried four more times until the song that everyone sang at the time of passing ended and he managed to hit it a few times, although he couldn't measure his strength and ended up breaking the stick in two causing laughter from everyone present.

At 12 o'clock the living-room buzzed with laughter and joy as they gathered around the tree, eager to exchange gifts. Charles couldn't help but be enchanted by the unique blend of traditions that Mexico brought to Christmas.

"Charles, mi amor, would you like to do the honors and hand out the presents?" his girlfriend asked, her eyes sparkling with pure love.

Charles gladly accepted the role, a bit nervous but excited to be part of this festive celebration. He handed out the gifts one by one, each package wrapped in bright papel de regalo. The family members exchanged smiles and hugs as they received their presents, the air filled with expressions of gratitude and love.

Y/N, sitting next to Charles, handed him a beautifully wrapped gift with a mischievous smile. "Open it, my love," she encouraged.

As Charles unwrapped the gift, he discovered a handmade sweater shaped in red and white colors, with a small heart and cars pattern.

To say that Charles loved the gift is an understatement. After a few minutes of admiring the sweater, he apologized to the family, excusing himself from wanting to use the bathroom. What they hadn't noticed was that he was carrying the sweater in his hand. Then, he returned with a proud smile on his face and in the room, everyone melted with love when they saw that he was already wearing the gift that his girlfriend had given him.

Charles was surprised to know that each member of his girlfriend's family had bought him a gift. He, of course, had also bought a gift for each of them months ago from different places he visited due to the races, being meticulously careful with everything he chose because he feared that they would not like it.

''Hey'' his girlfriend told him, escaping from her family for a few minutes.

''Hey mon chéri'' he responded with a soft smile

''I'm sorry if my family was a little impulsive, they were so touched by the fact that you were with us this Christmas that I couldn't control them.''

"My love, this is by far my favorite Christmas, I loved your family, and I want you to know how happy I am that you invited me here to spend the holidays with you, I enjoyed every second I spend here. I feel so lucky to have you in my life. At the beginning of the trip I was shiting myself when you told me your whole family was going to be there! But now I just want this to last forever. I love you endlessly"

By that point, Y/N's eyes were full of love. Wondering what she had done to have such a man by her side.

"By the way, I haven't given you my Christmas gift" he says

"You being here is more than enough for me"

"No, of course not, I want to give you something, turn around."

"Fine!" She chuckles counting to 10 just to turn around and be speechless when she saw Charles on one knee with a small velvet box in his trembling hands with a shiny ring inside

"Mon amour" he started with a nervous smile "I've been loving you for three Christmases now, but please allow me to spend the rest by your side. You are the woman of my dreams, and I will never regret the moment I gathered the courage to go talk to you because from day one you were the most beautiful woman on this planet. Will you be my forever, my partner in this beautiful journey, my happily ever after, my love? Will you marry me and let me be your husband? He ended with teary eyes but a big smile.

Y/N, who was in tears, couldn't believe what was happening. The love of her life was proposing to her. Trying in vain to wipe away the tears that adorned her face, she began to jump with joy while she repeated "yes, yes, yes!" While neither of them realized that the girl's family was glued to the door and windows watching the entire scene, some with tears, others celebrating the bets they had placed on the couple throughout the night. But the moment they saw the couple returning they all ran trying to hide the fact that they had seen everything.

The couple returned inside announcing the great news. Everyone came to congratulate them and while Charles was hugged by his future father-in-law and brothers-in-law, Y/N was showing her beautiful ring to her mother and aunts.

As the early morning passed, the family began to retire to their rooms to finally rest. Already in bed and about to sleep, Charles began to think that he could not have asked for a more beautiful Christmas, as he found himself enveloped in the love and traditions of the place where his girlfriend and now future wife grew up, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

[hornychristianprincess]

wasted (leehan x fem reader) pt. 1

paring: leehan x fem reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan, college au word count: 6k summary: hooking up with a stranger at a party is fun when said stranger is a tall, attractive philosophy major whose name you don’t learn until weeks later. warnings: explicit sex scenes, oral (female and male receiving), a lil butt action but nothing too crazy

ao3 link can be found HERE.

“You’re a new face,” remarked the rich, husky voice belonging to the stranger who had just approached you. In a house party that was relatively packed, you thought you were blending in by sticking to the wall and enjoying your solo cup full of unlabeled liquor. And yet, here was the approaching figure of a man so tall you had to crane your neck to face him, knowing nothing about you and yet still managing to observe how out of place you seemed.

“That obvious, is it?”

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing about you, per se. It’s just, these things are usually pretty tight-knit; the same people come every time. So when someone’s new, you notice,” he tells you, his slow, calm way of talking making you feel relieved and deeply curious at the same time. “Do you go to school here?” 

You nod your head in confirmation, though it feels foreign to do so when parts of you still feel more like a visitor than a student. “I just transferred here.”

He smiles hospitably at this, gesturing his arms out towards the room of people who surround you. “Welcome to our vibrant community. Please enjoy your stay. Refreshments are in the back and the ice machine is down the hall.”

You giggle genuinely at him and the sort of clumsy, awkward way his words seem to land on you. He’s the kind of person you were expecting to meet when you transferred from your rural state school to this smaller liberal arts college. There’s something almost dorky and strange about him, from the way he dresses in an oversized cardigan and big round glasses to the way he holds eye contact with you for what you deem longer than normal. And yet, his self-assuredness is crystal clear to you. It’s at this moment that you acknowledge to yourself how attractive you find him.

“Did you come here with someone?” he asks you, his posture changing so that he’s leaning into you just slightly.

“Yeah. My roommate is here somewhere—” you gesture aimlessly around you, “—probably getting tongued down in someone’s bathroom.”

At this point, you had been fighting off the inclination to assume that the man in front of you was chatting you up for any reason outside of sincere curiosity. But his intentions are made crystal clear when he replies, “Yeah? Care to follow suit?”

You laugh both out of amusement and shock at his forwardness, and even he seems taken aback by his own candor as he smiles in a sheepish, apologetic sort of way. Still, the way that his piercing dark eyes never seem to cease their burning into you, there’s no doubt in your mind that he meant every implication embedded in that response.

“You know, you never told me your name,” you point out, not sure why you are prolonging what feels like the inevitable moment tonight when you’ll find yourself tangled in bed with the handsome man in front of you. Perhaps you’d just like to talk to him for a little bit longer, enjoy the gratification of his attention. Or maybe it’s just fun to tease him and watch the way his eyes crinkle in bashful embarrassment.

You’re pleased when he seems no less interested in you even as you divert from his advances. In fact, he perks up at your observation. “That I did not. Call me pretentious, but I like to think that learning my name is a privilege.”

You show your disinterest in this notion with a scoff, something the stranger seems to take in stride. “Is a man’s name not all that he has in this world, from birth to death?” he asserts with a prideful smirk.

“Philosophical. That your major?”

“How’d you know?”

You’re starting to feel a little scared with just how much you’re beginning to love the sound of your overlapping laughter. When it dies down, you bask in the brief moments of silence where neither of you knows what to say next and instead just stare at each other’s faces in an almost innocent, child-like way. It’s so different from what you’re both feeling inside, anticipation and lust and desire swirling in a mix that makes your bodies feel charged.

“So since you’re not telling me your name, should I tell you mine?”

“Only if you feel I’m worthy of it,” he replies. The game that he’s playing confounds you but you see no harm in playing into it, something tantalizing and freeing about not being bound to the expectations of each other’s names.

“That, my friend,” you reply, “is yet to be decided.” You raise your hand to push against his shoulder, surprised at how sturdy the skin under his cardigan feels. He ricochets dramatically against the force of your hand, and when his body returns to yours, it’s closer than before. He rests his hand on the wall just above your head, the way he’s angled making him appear even taller than he did before.

“You know, I was exploring this house earlier, and there’s a room in the back with a comfortable-looking king-sized bed,” he says, words that would sound fuckboyish and crude if anyone else said them, but come out dorky and amusing when he does, especially when his next statement is, “And the entire time I was in there, all I could think was, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to pillow fight with?”

You smile, the expression mirrored on the stranger’s handsome face as he watches you react to his off-putting way of flirting. You decide to help him out by being more direct. “Are you asking me to pillow fight with you, stranger?” you ask, voice tilted in your best attempt at sounding seductive.

“Only if you’d be willing, stranger.”

When your roomate convinced you to go out with her tonight, you were intrigued by the notion of getting to know this new campus community, plus the always-tempting chance to get a few drinks in your system. You weren’t thinking that you would be in this position, about to hook up with a guy who won’t even tell you his name. 

You’ve been feigning confidence up until this point, an easy enough task when the man in front of you is good-looking and talkative. But now, as you prepare to follow him with the pretty certain chance of having sex, you have to finish off the remnants of your drink first, allowing the heat of liquid courage to wash over you like a warm blanket.

“Lead the way,” you tell him, taking the hand that he offers you before being led through the crowd of partygoers.

He takes you into a bedroom that’s on the ground floor, allowing you to settle in in front of him as he takes heed to lock the door. The bass from the loud music outside vibrates against the enclosed walls of the room. You’re grateful that it’s not completely silent, otherwise this would feel more awkward. 

“See,” the stranger says, walking over to face you. “I wasn’t lying about the king-sized bed.”

With the way he’s standing over you, combined with the looming implications of what you’re about to do – or rather, what you’re about to let him do to you – you’re too anxious to laugh. Instead, you stare at him, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Do you like to kiss when you hook up?” he asks you, straight-forward and to the point. You like that. You’ve never understood people who don’t like to kiss those they’re having sex with. Is the act of kissing somehow more intimate than letting someone inside you?

“Depends,” you reply, already moving to cradle the side of his face with your hand. “Are you a good kisser?”

He doesn’t answer verbally, moving instead to lean in so that your lips meet. Everything about this man feels like a paradox. Your interactions thus far have felt innocent, awkward even, and yet they still led to you following him into a stranger’s bedroom with the intention of having sex. And now, though his looks and the way he carries himself feel so clumsy, the way he kisses you is intense, all-consuming. 

He wastes no time trying to build up to something intense. Without pretense, his tongue is invading the wetness of your mouth, forcing your lips open as an audible whimper of surprise spills out. One of his hands comes up to lace itself into your hair, and in another act that surprises you, he pulls on it so that your faces come even closer. You’ve never found the taste of liquor on someone’s lips more addicting than you do now. 

You pull away to find a smirk on his lips, cockiness written all over his expression as he asks, “What do you think?”

It’s hard to conjure up any words when his hand is still in your hair, tipping your head back so that his eyes can comfortably rake over your face and particularly linger on your reddened lips. “I think I really, really want you to fuck me,” is what you manage, and even if you were the type to feel shameful at such remarks, it would be hard to when your words visibly light up his handsome expression until he’s kissing you again.

Your lips melt into his in a kiss so passionate it has you both walking backward in an eager effort to get each other onto the bed. You waste no time in pawing the clothes off of his slender body, satisfied as you hear his jeans then his cardigan hit the carpeted floor with a soft plop.

He does the same when it comes to your dress, a flowy, strapless piece that required you to go braless for it to work. Once it’s off and you’re both down to just underwear, you’re met with the feeling of his bare skin against your bare skin, your bare chest against his bare chest, and more relieving than anything else, the feeling of the bed frame meeting the back of your thighs as you finally reach the bed.

Pushing you up onto the edge of the bed, he lets his hands wander the expanse of your body, enjoying the feeling of your tits squeezed in the palms of his hands. You lean into his touch, moaning a little in his mouth as he never stops kissing you, even as he reaches down to breach the waistband of your underwear. 

You don’t realize how wet you are until his slender fingers push out to separate your folds, a task made difficult as your sticky arousal glues your lips together. But he manages it dextrously, wasting no time in finding your clit and drawing slow, teasing circles with the pads of his fingers.

His other hand, which had up until this point been palming your breast idly, now comes up to hold your face as he regretfully pulls his lips from yours. He studies your expressions with furrowed eyebrows, a teasing lilt in his voice as he asks, “Do you like it when I touch you here?” 

Just as soon as you part your lips to respond, his fingers dip lower until he’s sliding two of them into your fluttering hole. Your wetness provides no resistance, and now he’s coiling them deep inside of you. “Or here?”

You can’t think or respond when he’s pumping his long, slender fingers in and out of you, an act made more intense as he forces you to look at him with his hand on your jaw keeping your head in place. 

If you had to describe sex you’ve had in the past, vulnerable isn’t a word you’d use. 

And yet, it’s exactly how you feel as his eyes never leave your face, overseeing every expression you make from overwhelmed to whimpering to having your lips parted in a moan. 

A faint part of you wonders if you should feel more uncomfortable with how intimate this sex feels. 

And yet, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more pent up just with someone's fingers inside of you than right now, especially when he opens his mouth to praise you in his deep voice.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he says, his breezy tone of voice reminiscent of a lullaby. “I’m so glad I met you tonight. Can’t wait to fuck you.”

He fucks his fingers deeper inside of you as he says this, causing you to mewl as you throw your head back in his hands. “Don’t make me wait, then,” you challenge, gripping his arm to steady yourself as another moan threatens its way to your lips.

“Such a needy girl, aren’t you?” he wolfishly remarks. “Well, if you insist.”

With am amused smile on his face, he pulls his fingers out of you, raising them between your two faces so that you both can look on at the wetness which coats them. You’re not at all surprised when he brings them to his lips, only turned on as he sucks both fingers clean with a wet smack.

“Wanna know what you taste like?” he proposes, his expression and tone of voice far too innocent for what he’s just done. You don’t respond, only pull him into you for a kiss so lewd it makes your insides jump. You reach your hand between your bodies as you kiss him, attaching your fingers to the bulge protruding from his boxers. You enjoy the feel of his clothed cock, large and substantial in your hands, before he’s pulling away to sigh against your lips. 

Your hand leaves his body as he moves away from you. “Don’t go anywhere. Need to grab a condom.”

You watch him in amusement as he goes to hunch over his discarded jeans. In his absence, you relax on your stomach, facing him on the edge of the bed. “Where would I go, stranger?”

“I don’t know,” he intones, returning to you with a silver packet in between his fingers. “But If I could freeze you like this forever, so pretty and waiting for me to fuck you, I would.”

The stranger’s way with words has your body responding once more, a ripple of electricity traveling up your legs and even more so when he takes off his boxers in front of you. You’re not ashamed at whatever expression of suprise is surely showing up on your face at the sight. 

You’d likely use the word pretty to describe his dick, veins bulging out of it like little vines and a tip that matches the rosy color of his lips. You decide then that he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken, though you suppose you should save that judgment for when he’s actually managed to fit inside of you.

Your thoughts are broken by his touch as he lifts your chin up with his hands, a smirk ever so prominent on his puffy lips. “My eyes are up here, you know.”

You both giggle at his cheekiness, a moment of humour that is promptly ended when the opening of the condom packet grabs your attention. You reach out to cease his movements with a hand on his wrist. He meets your gaze with a cute, confused look on his face. “Wanna taste you first, stranger” you assert with a blink.

“You’re so cute,” he remarks enjoyably, “But I won’t last if you do.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them extra hard as you say, “Just a peck?”

As you already suspected from the lack of conviction in his earlier refusal, he’s not at all stern as he moves to rub his thumb across your cheek. “Since you asked so nicely,” he replies permissively.

You barely have to lean forward off the bed for your mouth to reach his cock, tall and straight and hard in front of your face. Wetting your lips with your tongue, you press a kiss just underneath his tip, making eye contact as you pull away to watch as a heavy sigh leaves his lips. You don’t stop at just one peck, peppering them all along his shaft and enjoying the smoothness of his skin against your lips.

“I thought you said just a peck?” he reminds you when he notices what you’re doing, placing a hand on your hair but making no effort to push you away.

“Am I not pecking?” you ask, relishing in the groan he lets out when you wrap your puckered lips over his reddened tip. You’re just about to open your mouth fully before he finally shows some restraint, pulling you off of him with a tug of your hair.

“That’s enough,” he asserts, the mattress dipping from his weight as he hops onto the bed behind you. “If I’m not inside of you within the next 5 seconds, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Conscious of his presence behind you, you raise your body into an arch and feel pleased when he immediately grabs at your hips to pull you in closer. He ignores the impatient little wiggles of your ass that you do in attempt to get him to fuck you, prefering instead to spread your pussy open with his fingers and groan as he watches arousal spill out of you. “You’re so fucking wet,” he remarks dreamily, sliding a languid finger inside of you in a way that makes your arch deepen. “And it’s all for me, isn’t it, baby?”

His vocal tone has taken a shift so that he sounds less adoring and more sadistic, the observance of your arousal being just for him stated almost matter-a-factly. You don’t know why it turns you on even more than before, but it does, especially as he plays idly with pussy as if he forgets it belongs to a living, breathing you.

You’re fighting off whimpers as his fingers continue their exploration of your entrance. You hear him let out a long, drawn out “Fuck,” under his breath before he’s withdrawing from you entirely and asking, “Can I eat you out?”

Images of his plump, rosy lips flash through your mind like a movie sequence before you’re humming out affirmatively, excitement of what’s to come making your body tense as you feel him laying down on the bed, feel his breath against your mound as he becomes level with your pussy, feel his lips against your clit as he goes in to take all of you in his mouth.

The sounds that fill the room now are nothing but a lewd combination of your moans, his slurping, and the continued blaring of music coming from outside the walls. The way that he eats pussy is almost just as clumsy and unsure as he is, but he somehow manages to make you cry out as his tongue expertly flicks against your clit, or he licks into your entrance to taste the arousal there. 

You feel yourself becoming lightheaded and breathless as he licks you closer into orgasm. Already worked up from all the time he spent fingering you, what feels like the last straw is when he experimentally licks upward and brushes his tongue against the tight skin of your asshole. Noticing how it makes you moan and reach back to pull at his long hair, he keeps going, wetting your ass with his tongue. 

Alternating between this and your cunt, it’s only a matter of time when you find yourself mewling and tensing as your orgasm takes over your body. Your thighs are shaking and your hands are pulling so hard at his hair that you’re afraid you’ll rip it, but nonetheless he holds you up with two large hands against your ass and groans as you come all over his face. 

When he finally pulls away from you, your body collapses against the bed, all the marks of a good orgasm hitting you at once – ringing ears, tensed limbs, rising chest. You’re brought back to Earth by the feeling of faint, fleeting kisses being left on the expanse of your spine, the stranger’s body pressed against yours before he’s level with you and moving to pull your head to face his.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, sweet and innocent in yet another moment of tenderness that feels inappropriate for the setting you’re in. Nonetheless, you nod and relish in the feeling of his mouth against yours once more, acknowledging faintly to yourself that he just might be the best kisser you’ve ever been with.

He brings your body back to life by snaking his arms underneath you, grabbing at your boobs and almost making you feel ticklish as he gently caresses your stomach. Pulling away from your lips, he mutters the command of, “Turn around,” against your lips that you follow with zeal.

Flat on your back, you’re brought face to face with the man who has exceeded your expectations in almost every way compared to anyone else you’ve slept with so casually. Long locks of dark hair drape against the sides of face as he holds himself above you, making him look intense, but only briefly before he’s asking through an impish smile, “Are you intimidated by eye contact?”

He says it to you like it’s a challenge, like he hopes you’ll be shy so that he can guide you through it anyway. You shake your head stubbornly. “No,” you answer, “But I’m intimated by you.” It’s true. You’ve definitely never met a person like him, never had sex feel so intimate with a complete stranger. It scares you.

“Don’t be. I’m really a softie,” he assures, a childlike expression of excitement lighting up his handsome features. He presses a hand against your cheek in a gesture of affection, lips curling into a grin. “Only, my dick is as hard as a rock right now. Kinda wanna bury it inside of you.”

“What’s stopping you?”

You’re surprised when, in reply, he adjusts his body so that he’s lined up perfectly with your entrance, his latex covered tip pressing just slightly into you. “That’s a great question,” he quips, and without any further pretense, he slots himself inside of you.

You let out identical sounding sighs as his cock is engulfed by the sensitive, wet inside of your pussy. He presses his hips against you, making sure he’s as deep as he possibly can be before looking down at you for your approval. “Feels good?”

“Yes. Oh god, yes,” you’re whimpering in reply, head already thrown back as you get used to the feeling of his girth filling you. 

Hearing you express how good you feel is all the stranger needs to hear before he’s pulling out of you, methodically ensuring that just the tip is left inside before pushing back in. His vigor catches you by surprise, leaving you no time to adjust as he continues at a feverish pace. Unintelligible, broken-sounding cries spill out from your lips with each moment his hips meet yours.

“You have such pretty eyes,” he remarks as he watches you, a compliment you don’t think you’ve ever heard before while being fucked into the next dimesion. “And a pretty mouth, too,” he adds, his thumb breaching the wet insides of your lips before he’s leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is messy as you struggle to meet each other’s mouths, devolving into a mixture of tongue and spit and broken breath.

“Talk to me. Tell me how good I’m fucking you,” he groans against your mouth, sitting up on his knees to fuck you in an angle that’s deeper that before. With the pounding that he’s giving you, you’re just barely able to catch your breath, let alone form the words to respond to him.

“Can’t…scream your name if I don’t know it,” you manage to say in a teasing sort-of-way, your smirk widening into an open-mouthed cry as you’re sure he grazes your g-spot with a particualrly deep drive of his hips. 

He chuckles at your way of trying to get him to share his name, and whether he’s truly serious in wanting to withhold it from you or because he just wants to tease you, he says, “Come on my cock, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Fuck me harder, and I will,” you reply tauntingly, not because he’s not already, but because even through the haze of your approaching orgasm, you want to see how he’ll respond to your challenge.

He smiles at this request, though while maintaining his same pace. “But I don’t wanna break you, sweet girl,” he remarks, and if he weren’t, too, about to crash into his approaching climax, he’d surely make it a point to tease you for how you clench at the pet name. Instead, he opts to slot a hand between your legs and make work of your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. “Does this help?”

Just as you were sure this sex couldn’t get any better, the added stimulation to your clit has your entire body reeling with pleasure. “Oh god, yes. Don’t stop.”

With each approaching second, you can feel yourself about to fall apart, a condition only worsened when the stranger pulls you down by your hips, bringing him even deeper inside of you. You love the sound of his deep voice from above you, sounding almost far-away and dreamlike as he mumbles remarks like, “Keep making those pretty noises for me, baby,” that shoot straight to your core, only adding to your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re killing me baby,” is what he says as his own pleasure begins to reach it’s peak. You love the expressions he makes, the almost painful look on his face as he says, “Wish I could come inside this tight little pussy.”

Even with the knowledge that he put a condom on, you can’t help but react positively to the notion of being filled with his hot, sticky release. And without intending it, your walls close tightly around his cock in tandem with the loud moan that on its own revealed just how much you enjoyed that little tidbit of dirty talk. And without fail, the stranger is quick to pick up on it and tease you for it, though through his own gritted teeth and groans as he inches closer to release.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? If I filled you up with my cum? You wanna have my baby and you don’t even know my name?’

It’s the half-degrading, half-awe-inspired tone of voice he uses that throws you over the edge, your thighs shaking in anticipation of what you’re sure will be an earth-shattering orgasm. “I’m close,” you confess through baited breath.

“I know you are,” he acknowledges in reply, and without warning, your body convulses with the strength of your climax. “That’s it. Come on my dick.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt anything quite like the overwhelming pleasure that washes over you in a series of pulsating, neverending waves. The stranger fucks you through it without any alteration in speed, and it’s just as you’re about to squirm away in overstimulation that he finishes with one last, deep thrust inside of you. The sound of his groans are just as melodic and husky as his voice is, sending little afterschocks of arousal up your belly until finally, he pulls out of you with a grunt.

Looking up at the ceiling, you feel the mattress dip beside you as he collapses onto the bed. Usually, this would be the point where the post-nut clarity hits you and you’d begin to regret another series of bad decisions that led you to a stranger's bed. Instead, as you lock eyes with who might possibly be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, you only wonder what you did to deserve such good fortune to have met him tonight.

“That was fucking amazing, stranger,” he remarks, putting voice to your own exact thoughts as he rolls over so that he can stroke your cheek idly. You try to hold off the pestering inclination to blink so that you can take in the rosy-cheeked, delicately striking state his orgasm has left him in. 

You thought that after giving you what was surely the best pounding of your life that you’d be less inclined to view him as a total weirdo. Instead, there is something so innocent now about the way he looks at you, as he can’t even believe this happened. Wanting to tease him, you reply, “Good enough for me to learn your name?”

He considers your question with an impish chuckle, and though you’re not at all desperate to know his name, you’re still surprised when he replies, “Will you forgive me if I say something tells me I want to keep you hanging for just a little while longer?”

There is an air of mysteriousness to his words that you pick up on but have trouble interpreting. And while you itch to know what’s going on in that big brain of his, you decide not to question him any further, instead just appreciating the ease and contentment of this moment. 

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” you tell him candidly, leaning in so that the tip of your noses touch. “But I’m glad I met you tonight.”

You’re not embarrassed at all when you lean in to kiss him, because even though the sex is over, you just want to feel his lips against yours one last time before you go back to being two strangers who will likely never see each other after this. He reciprocates, seemingly ignorant to the idea of kissing someone chastely as he pulls you in and slips his tongue into your mouth.

Nevertheless, when you pull away, you know the moment is over when he says, “Walk of shame out the door together?”

You’re not sad, only content as you turn to him and answer. “Let’s.”

It’s a cozy Thursday morning on your campus as you step outside to meet with your friend, Jaehyun. When you had allowed him to borrow your computations textbook, you had no idea it would lead you to his apartment complex, where he swore he had left the book on accident.

“I promise you, I thought I brought it with me to class, but I must’ve left it in my room,” he explained sheepishly, patting his pockets as he searched for his apartment key. With his straight-cut bangs and habit of forgetfulness, Jaehyun was about the closest thing to a friend that you had since transferring. You went to the same high school together, congregating in the same social circles but ultimately going two separate ways after graduation. 

It wasn’t until your first day at this new school that you sat down for your morning class and discovered that Myeong Jaehyun went here, too. Since that moment of recognition on both of your ends, he’s been your only piece of relative familiarly in a place that still feels new to you.

“Here we are,” mumbled a disgruntled Jaehyun as he finally managed to unlock the door to his apartment. It was your first time seeing the place, and as far as student housing went, you were impressed. The space was populated with nice-enough-looking furniture and boyish decorations that you could tell belonged to Jaehyun and whoever his roommate was.

“I’m gonna go get your textbook from my room. You can wait out here,” said Jaehyun, turning to head into the hallway where the rooms were. You were just about to get comfortable, maybe sit on his couch and chill as he invariably spent ages looking for your textbook, until the noise of a door opening startled you into attention.

“Oh hey,” said Jaehyun casually to a familiar silhouette that appeared into the hallway. “Y/N, this is my roommate, Leehan.”

You fought the urge to laugh out loud as you were met with the image of the stranger who, just a few weeks ago, was drilling his cock into you in some of the most mind-blowing sex of your life. When he first came out and hadn’t noticed you yet, he simply looked curious, as if he was coming out of his room to see what was causing the noise. But now, he barely fights off a smirk as he, too, processes your presence. All of this goes unnoticed by an unsuspecting Jaehyun, who proceeds into his room to rummage for your textbook.

Left alone with the boy who you can now identify as Leehan, you look him up and down, taking in his casual appearance and hair that has only grown longer in the time since you last met. He leans against his doorframe, looking you over with a gaze just as intrusive before saying, “So. Y/N, huh?”

Both of you laugh out loud at the same time, the humor and awkwardness of the situation hitting you all at once. The smile on Leehan’s face forces his eyes into crescent shapes that you faintly acknowledge as endearing. 

“Leehan,” you state with a grin, returning the preceding instance of acknowledging each other’s names. “It suits you. Although, I’m not sure it’s special enough to justify you withholding it.”

He shrugs indifferently at that, looking not even a little embarrassed as he replies jokingly, “What can I say? I prefer an air of anonymity when conducting my one-night stands.”

“Is that what that was?” you quip back with a tilt of your head. You know exactly that that’s what it was, but playing coy about it is how you save yourself from the embarrassment of having to address the weird sexual-tension-mixed-with-awkwardness that lingers between the two of you.

He runs a hand through his hair, maintaining the smile on his face as he shrugs noncommittally and replies, “I don’t know, I was too drunk to remember. In fact, who are you again?”

You both giggle, the atmosphere and banter between the two of you surprisingly easy, even outside the context of being drunk at a house party. You can faintly hear the sounds of Jaehyun’s rummaging becoming louder a few doors away, letting you know he’s no closer to finding your textbook. To your own internal surprise, a tiny part of you is relieved to have the time to see where this interaction with Leehan will go.

“So, you’re friends with Myeong Jaehyun?” he asks, gesturing his head in the direction of his roommate’s door just a few feet away. You notice how he slips his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and straightens his posture, a move somehow making him look 10x taller.

“It’s a love/hate sort of thing. But yes, I’ve known him since high school.”

The corner of Leehan’s lips switch into a half-smile, something foreboding in his tone as he then says, “Then I guess I should expect to see you much more often, Y/N.”

You raise a questioning eyebrow, and through a confused grin, ask, “Why do you say that so ominously?”

Leehan doesn’t answer at first and instead just maintains his piercing gaze on your face. He’s so strange, but what’s even stranger is that you find yourself attracted to him. Attracted to him and his weirdly crooked smile and habit of staring at people for longer than normal. His shaggy brown hair and pouty lips that you can’t forget were once meshed with yours.

“No reason,” he finally answers, and before you can question such obviously purposeful ambiguity, it’s just then that Jaehyun comes out with your textbook.

“Found your book,” he says, cradling the thick textbook underneath his arm. Looking over at Leehan, whose open-mouthed expression obviously reveals he was in the middle of saying something, he pauses. “You good, Leehan?”

Leehan maintains a passive expression, though the hints of a smirk just barely bleed onto his lips as he gestures his head in your direction. “Yeah, just talking to Y/N.”

Jaehuun exchanges an inquisitive look between the two of you. “You guys know each other?”

Not sure how to answer that question, you look to Leehan for any non-verbal guidance. And funnily enough, he looks to you with the same sort of expecting look, and now you’re staring at each other for longer than normal, fighting back laughter as a confused Jaehyun looks on.

“You could say that,” Leehan replies, nodding his head affirmatively.

part 2 can be found HERE

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

[visit-new-york]

What are the key attractions within Brooklyn Bridge Park?

Nestled along the East River with the iconic Brooklyn Bridge as its backdrop, Brooklyn Bridge Park stands as a testament to urban revitalization and green space innovation. This sprawling oasis, spanning 85 acres along the Brooklyn waterfront, offers a harmonious blend of recreational spaces, natural beauty, and stunning views of the Manhattan skyline. As visitors stroll through its well-manicured lawns and engaging attractions, they are treated to an array of experiences that make Brooklyn Bridge Park a must-visit destination. Let's delve into the key attractions that contribute to the allure of this urban gem.

Brooklyn Bridge Promenade:

The park's crowning jewel, the Brooklyn Bridge Promenade, provides an unrivaled vantage point to marvel at the majesty of the Brooklyn Bridge and the Manhattan skyline. As day turns to night, the twinkling city lights create a breathtaking panorama. The promenade offers a serene escape from the city buzz, making it a favorite spot for joggers, cyclists, and leisurely strollers alike.

Pier 1: Harbor View Lawn:

Pier 1 welcomes visitors with the expansive Harbor View Lawn, a lush green space that hosts a variety of events, from outdoor movie nights to yoga classes. The unobstructed views of the Statue of Liberty and the Manhattan skyline make it an ideal spot for picnics, relaxation, and taking in the maritime activity on the river.

Pier 2: Sports and Recreation Hub:

For the sports enthusiasts, Pier 2 is a haven of activity. Basketball and handball courts, roller skating rinks, and even a shuffleboard court cater to diverse interests. Whether you're a seasoned athlete or just looking to enjoy a friendly game, Pier 2 is the place to break a sweat with the Manhattan skyline as your backdrop.

Jane's Carousel:

Nestled in a glass pavilion at the edge of the park, Jane's Carousel is a vintage treasure that adds a touch of nostalgia to Brooklyn Bridge Park. Dating back to 1922, this meticulously restored carousel offers enchanting rides for visitors of all ages. The combination of the beautifully carved horses and the sparkling views of the East River creates a magical experience.

Pier 6: Playgrounds and Picnic Areas:

Pier 6 is a family-friendly haven featuring playgrounds designed to spark the imagination of young adventurers. Water features, climbing structures, and ample seating make this area a hotspot for families. The nearby picnic areas are perfect for a leisurely lunch, providing a chance to recharge amid the park's natural beauty.

Environmental Education Center:

For those seeking a deeper understanding of the local ecosystem, the Environmental Education Center on Pier 1 offers interactive exhibits and educational programs. Visitors can learn about the diverse plant and animal life thriving in and around the park, fostering a sense of appreciation for the environment.

Conclusion:

Brooklyn Bridge Park is a testament to the transformative power of urban planning and community engagement. Its diverse attractions cater to a wide range of interests, making it a destination that resonates with both locals and tourists. As you explore the park's various offerings, you'll find a harmonious blend of recreation, culture, and natural beauty, making Brooklyn Bridge Park a must-visit destination for anyone seeking an enriching and picturesque urban escape.

[malusokay]

How to be like Jang Wonyoung

As many of you requested, part 2 of my it girls series is all about Jang Wonyeong, who's not only absolutely STUNNING, but also incredibly talented, hardworking, and of course successful. Let's get right into it!! <33

Wonyoungs Energy:

Wonyoung is incredibly charismatic, which makes her stand out without even trying!!

She has a bubbly and likeable Personality, Wonyoung appears happy and welcoming, she easily lights up a room with just her presence.

Aside from being cute and cheerful, Wonyoung is also known for being extremely hardworking!!

Confident and Unbothered. Despite receiving quite a bit of unnecessary hate, Wonyoung stays indifferent and true to herself!!

Elegant and feminine. No one does the ‘Elegant feminine self-love girly’ aesthetic like her, she is THE girly girl!! <3

Mindset:

Learn to deal with jealousy, Wonyoung gets plenty of hate, but let's be real for a second… we all know that is because of jealousy. Pretty, successful, smart, and popular? Of course, people will be jealous!!

“While practising self-love, you see good and pretty things about yourself. If I focus only on those things, I don't need to pay much attention to the criticism.”

Don't compare yourself to others “You are you, I am me”.

Keep to yourself. Stop telling people your ideas, your dreams and how you plan to archive them, your goals etc. Let your actions speak for themself!! <3

No more negative self-talk!!

Be your number 1 priority!! Take care of yourself, do what's good for you, eat well, care for your body, skincare, haircare, and your education!! PRIORITIES

Skincare

Skincare. Wonyoung has Flawless skin, finding a skincare routine that works for you can help you archive similar results!!

Wonyoungs skincare routine:

According to Google, Wonyoung only uses Innisfree products and starts by double cleansing her face, for that, she uses the Green Tea Cleansing Oil ($24), and the Green Tea Amino Acid Face Cleanser ($12)

To get the dewy class skin effect, hydration is key!! In the morning, Wonyoung likes using the Green Tea Hyaluronic Acid Serum ($30) and the Dewy Glow Tone-up Cream ($26)

Of course, you can't forget SPF. Wonyoung uses the Mild Cica Sunscreen Tone-Up SPF 50+ PA ++++, which is also great for acne-prone and sensitive skin types!! :)

For her night routine, she likes the Retinol Cica Moisture Recovery Serum ($37) and the Dewy Glow Jelly Cream ($26).

Elevate your daily life:

Healthy diet. Eating nutritious and healthy food is the first and most important step to clear skin and an overall good feeling!! Make sure to eat enough protein (ex. yoghurt, chicken, tofu or eggs), lots of fruits and veggies, and healthy fats (ex. Avocados, fish, nuts, olive oil)!!

Exercise daily. Besides dancing, Wonyoung loves pilates!! You can find lots of great Pilates videos on YouTube!!

Work on your posture!! Having good posture will not only make you feel better but also lets you appear more confident, elegant and put together. Try daily stretching and exercises to improve it <3

Try establishing a proper morning and night routine, this can help you stay structured and relaxed even on more messy and busy days.

Content that makes you feel better!! Start watching channels like thewizardliz, vogue beauty secrets, and read motivating blogs. (like mine lol <3)

Makeup:

Wonyoung is known for her iconic glittery and feminine make-up!!

Light pink blush, plump lips, glowy skin and a glittery but not too heavy eye look.

Foundation on the centre of your face and blend outwards for a naturally contoured look.

Always apply your matt products before your shimmers, that way, your makeup looks cleaner!! Also, apply your glitters from finest to chunkiest. :)

Don't apply your shimmers/glitters past the middle of your eyelid to avoid looking puffy.

If you have warm-toned skin, go for peachy glitters, for cool-toned skin, choose a champagne-coloured one.

If your struggle with dark under eyes, blend your concealer with your fingers!! This will give it a lot more coverage.

You can find lots of tutorials on Wonyoung-inspired make-up on YouTube, this one is my favourite.

I hope this little guide was helpful, I wasn't too familiar with Wonyoung, but I did some research since she was the number 1 most requested person for this!! :)

As always, please feel free to share your own suggestions in the comments and let me know who you want me to write about next! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[stellarbit]

New Arrangements

Word Count: 5.4k Pairing: fem!reader x tech and crosshair, light Tech nods Warnings: NSFW receiving oral, piv, dp, all that good jazz Summary: Tech thinks of a different way to please you, as long as Crosshair is up for it.

This was a request a WHILE ago (ya girl is a slow, anxious writer). And it's been rotting my brain. Working on Part 2 of Two Faces too

“You worry too much.” Crosshair snickered into your ear. You shoved him off with a hard elbow. His voice, that close, sent a rush of irritation and something more exhilarating through your veins.

He chuckled, not deterred, and gripped your chin, playfully tilting your head from side to side. “Keep making that face, and you’ll age faster than us.”

You pushed his hand off, “And you say Wrecker needs to grow up.”

Crosshair let out a low, amused snort. His demeanor was always a blend of mockery and challenge, yet you had learned to navigate these waters.

Meanwhile, Tech observed the interaction from across the campfire. The three of you were on duty, guarding the camp while Wrecker, Echo, and Hunter were away. Your constant inquiries about their safety had invited Crosshair’s teasing, yet Tech appreciated how seamlessly you meshed with his squad. The Jedi Council had assigned you to Clone Force 99 abruptly, a move that often led to friction in established teams. However, whether due to your trained Jedi patience or simply fortune, you had adapted well.

The longer you worked with them, the more comfortable you became. It wasn’t a word Tech would use but, in reality, you were getting attached. 

That is, enough that you were able to coax out Crosshair’s more gentle side - if you could call it that. He interacted with you with a brusque familiarity he reserved for his brothers: never overtly kind, but his jabs lacked real malice. It always piqued Tech’s interest. Lightening Crosshair’s often grim demeanor was no minor achievement, and Tech found this development enjoyable.

 Anything that brought light to Crosshair’s attitude was a rare feat and a welcome one.

It had taken longer than with Crosshair, but you eventually won over Tech’s tolerance as well. As Tech generally had the more focused tasks, the two of you were paired together often. Your role as a Jedi made it easy to guard him while he was engrossed in his work.

Your time paired together allowed you ample time to listen to his rambling, ranting, and info dumping. A habit you initially deemed mind numbing, yet these moments quickly became your favorite parts of the day. Tech, often engaged in some task at hand, grew to find your presence calming as well. 

It seemed that Tech, in his own measured way, cherished your attentiveness. You relished you time with you and he you. Oh, he relished you thoroughly and every single chance he could.

Crosshair pulled on a strand of your hair, “I need to do a perimeter sweep. Keep your senses extended and comm me if you hear anything.” Tech didn’t miss the little flush his brother’s teasing brought you. Crosshair’s task was one that gave you Tech a slim window of opportunity.

Not long after Crosshair departed, you were splayed out on a cot in the tent with Tech between your legs.

“You enjoy it when I speak to you.” Tech said so plainly, as if he wasn’t squeezing three fingers inside you. He pushed them in deep, lowering his mouth to your clit as you whined back at him. He sucked on your bud, licking a few light circles around it, and felt you clamp down around him. Raising himself so that it was only his lips brushing you, he said, “Not being able to please you and speak to you is not the most ideal.”

He wanted to give you so much more, he wanted to push you farther every time. Singing he wished he had a second pair of hands for.

And a thought occurred to him. 

“Tech,” his name was a breathy moan. You squirmed on his fingers, trying to catch his lips on your clit again. “Your voice alone can finish me. Please.” Tech didn’t miss the desperation in your pleaing.

He kept working his fingers into you, further angling his head to watch your expression. The times he spent with you were becoming a game of strategy to him. One that he recorded and re-lived, as often as his little free time allowed. 

“And what is it you want to hear?” He swept a thumb over your clit, still aching for him, and sent an arch through your back.

Knowing he was in the midst of studying you, you threw your arms over your face to deprive him. If you were desperate and wanting, so should he be. “Read me binary code for Force sake. Anything.”

Tech thought he heard frustration in your voice, an unideal outcome considering his intentions. He unhooked the leg you had saddled over his shoulder and settled it beside his hip as he crawled over top of you. He gently moved your arms from your face and repositioned them above your head. Lining himself up with your entrance, he lowered his mouth to your ear. “Right now, I think I’d rather hear what you have to say.” Not making you ache another second, he easily slid inside of you.

It was a quick affair given the high risk of discovery. Tech completely worked you over just by whispering simple observations to you. Things like how you moved, looked, and felt around him. He took you right up to the edge of release, but cut you short. He was throbbing inside you, just as close to his orgasm, when he pulled out. 

Typically, Tech never left you wanting or waiting. He took pride in timing himself in getting you off. This time, if he wanted his idea to succeed, he needed you wanting more.

He grunted, struggling for composure. “Crosshair will be back soon. We should continue later.”

For a moment, you thought you might cry. You were wound so tight the ache was painful. Panting and foggy brained you just nodded along. Clearing your voice you said, “I didn’t know you were so cruel.”

He sat back on his knees, raked his eyes over your body once more, and tapped his goggles to end his recording. “Trust me,” Tech said, extending his hand. “It will be worth the wait.”

Afterwards, while the two of you composed yourselves, Tech gave you a sideways glance.

“Do you?” Tech queried.

“Do I what?” You responded without looking.

  “Do you trust me?”  He asked, stopping your hands as your head tilted in confusion. Surely that was obvious to him.

A second pulsed between you and you leaned over to give his arma squeeze. “With my life.”

Tech pushed, “And you have faith in my skills of observation.”

“Now, you’re just being silly.” You gave him a pat and pushed off the cot to exit. Tech caught your hand, adding weight to his question. For a moment you were stunned, you didn’t know what called for such seriousness. With a smile, you sighed and squeezed his hand. “I have as much faith in you as I do the Force,” you said and bent forward to kiss his hand. 

A barely there smile came to Tech. He sighed and stood with you. “I encourage you to keep that in mind in the future.”

When Crosshair returned you were still fanning the flush from your face. The ache between your legs had hardly subsided.

“Any word from the others?” He asked, setting his gun aside and discarding his helmet.

Tech tapped through his datapad, responding casually. “Negative and I suspect it will take longer now that the suns are setting.” Pausing momentarily, he brought his comm to his face. “Hunter, what is your status?”

It wasn’t immediate, but it was Echo’s voice that came back. “Hunter’s a little… tied up at the moment.” His inflection suggested that might be literal. “We still have a ways to go. Stay with the ship.”

Your head dipped back as you groaned, “That’s not good.” Swallowing your worry, you pushed off your knees to stand up. “In that case, I’ll be back.” 

“And where do you think you’re going?” Crosshair asked as he sat adjacent Tech.

You waved your hand over your shoulder as you walked off. “Just stretching my legs, I’ll be fine.” Stretch your legs and walk out the ache.

Crosshair’s gaze lingered on you, particularly the sway of your hips. He swallowed a groan and looked back to the fire.

Tech, noticing the shift in Crosshair’s demeanor, glanced over his datapad at him, assessing. “Your concern is unwarranted. She will be fine.” He observed Crosshair for a moment longer as he placed a toothpick in his mouth, then ventured into delicate territory. “Is it safe to say you find her attractive?”

Crosshair sputtered, wide eyed he whipped to look at his brother. “Wha- What does that matter to you?”

“Currently—a great deal,” Tech adjusted his goggles, his tone turning investigative. “Are you aware that she and I engage in physical relations?” When Crosshair’s stare intensified, Tech added for clarity, “Frequently.”

Crosshair covered his face with his hand, cursing into his palm. He had noticed the way you gravitated towards Tech and even suspected you’d caught Tech’s attention. Though considering your nature as a Jedi, he imagine you hadn’t acted on anything. It was why he let his teasing border on flirting.

It’s why he let himself fantasize about you.

“Why are we even talking about this?” The sniper groaned, exasperation already showing.

“Because I’m fairly certain she finds you attractive as well, and I have an idea that might benefit all involved. But first, I need to know: have you ever fantasized about her?” Tech’s question was direct, his curiosity unabashed.

Just as you circled back to the camp, Crosshair’s incredulous response pierced the air. “What?” Hearing this, you quickened your pace, pushing through the underbrush to catch an early glimpse of the scene.

When you burst through the final swath of foliage, the camp appeared oddly tranquil. Crosshair was casually leaning against crates on the opposite side of the fire from Tech, who was positioned exactly as you had left him, seemingly immersed in his datapad.

Neither of them said anything as you took a few slow steps towards Tech, still assessing the situation. Crosshair almost seemed like he was pointedly ignoring you. The oddity of it all made you smile curiously.

Sitting next to Tech you leaned over to whisper. “What did you do to piss him off?” Crosshair’s eyes narrowed in on you, a clear sign he’d heard you. 

Tech pulled his datapad away from his face, glancing at Crosshair. “He's not angry,” Tech clarified, setting aside his device completely. “If anything, he's nervous.” When Tech was fully present, more interested in a situation than his research, there was always a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Oh, really?” You chuckled softly, nudging Tech playfully with your elbow. “And what’s got moody over there so nervous?”

Tech gestured his hand you, saying, “Most likely due to the anticipation of your reaction.” 

Confusion briefly crossed your features as you gave a small shake of your head. “My reaction to what?”

Tech adjusted his goggles and cleared his voice, a small glimpse of his own nerves. “To learning I’ve disclosed the nature of our relations to Crosshair.”

Your cheeks went warm and, for a moment, you could only blink at Tech. “Tech.” You said in a cautious tone.

He began again with no hesitation. “Crosshair is now fully aware that you and I are involved.” You opened your mouth only to be met with Tech lifting his finger. “More significantly, I've proposed the idea of him joining us. As I see it, it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“Mutually beneficial arrangement?” You parrotted a little louder. You were suddenly very aware of Crosshair’s eyes on you. From your peripherals you noticed Crosshair shift his weight off the crates and your mouth went dry.

Tech twisted to face you head on. “The way you and Crosshair interact suggests a mutual attraction and, frankly, seeing him somewhat content is a rarity.” Crosshair scoffed from across the fire, but Tech continued. “I believe expanding our dynamics will prove enjoyable for all parties.”

Your lack of response, brows lowered but eyes wide, caused Tech to pause. A moment of hesitation passed over Tech as he considered the best path forward. His eyes shifted around before honing back in on you. The look in his eyes kept you locked in place as he leaned over and reached across his body to grip your thigh.

Facing away from Crosshair, Tech brought his mouth to your ear. Just for you to hear, he said, “And I believe you would find an evening with the two of us... quite exhilarating.”

Remaining still, your eyes flew to Crosshair. From the distance you were sure he couldn’t have heard Tech, but he was waiting, almost holding his breath, for your response. The ache between your legs bloomed again. Your thighs squeezed together, trapping Tech’s hand between them.

Between Tech’s proximity and Crosshair’s staring you down, you couldn’t hear anything over your own heartbeat. Abruptly, you stood, disentangling yourself from Tech, and nearly stumbled over your makeshift seat. You fanned your face, letting out nervous laughs while your eyes darted between them.

Before you could gather your thoughts to speak, Crosshair’s voice cut through the tension. “Now who’s nervous?” His tone was taunting, yet when you looked at him, your nervousness seemed to have evaporate. Crosshair poised, nearly predatory, as if waiting for a signal to spring into action. Undeniably captivating.

For Crosshair. Seeing you flushed and breathless with excitement brought his fantasies vividly to the forefront of his mind. He raised an eyebrow, his typical smirk softening into something more tender.

“Crosshair?” You managed to say with a small, flattered smile playing on your lips. “You want this?”

After a tense pause, he discarded the toothpick in his mouth and walked around the fire to where you stood beside Tech. With a steady voice Crosshair said, “I.. wouldn’t have agreed to discuss it if I didn’t.”

Eyes blown wide, your heartbeat throbbed between your legs. Holding Crosshair’s gaze a heartbeat longer you looked down at Tech with a nod.

A spark of excitement hit Tech’s eyes. “Excellent.” Tech smiled and pushed off his knees to stand. “In that case-”

You interjected quickly, “Right now.”

“Right now?” Crosshair repeated incredulously.

“That… would be my fault.” Tech walked past you and patted Crosshair on the shoulder. “You two head into the tent, I’ll be in shortly.” Without even having to see your shared confused expression Tech sighed, continuing to walk to the comm station. He clarified, “It would be wise to make sure we are alerted if the others are near.”

A hand settled on your lower back as Crosshair guided you away. “We’ll leave you to it then.” Crosshair said after him. He leaned down, ducking into you as you both crossed the tent’s threshold. As he pushed into you a breathy laugh kissed the skin of you neck. “Should’ve seen your face.”

You tried to shove him off with bump of you hips - a playful move you’d done dozens of times. With his hand still resting on the small of your back the movement slid his hand into place on your waist. 

He remained close, looking down at you and his grip firming on you. “Since when have you…” He started saying but trailed off. He didn’t need to finish, you knew what he was asking.

“Since the day you caught me from falling in the river on Kuat.”

He craned his neck back, a smirk shifting his lips. “Didn’t I then drop you into the river?”

Even just his hand waist sent your heart racing. “It made me laugh,” you replied with a light shrug. Rising onto your tiptoes, you whispered close to his ear, “Or maybe the first time I saw you shooting from one knee.” Settling back onto your heels, you shrugged again, smiling slyly. “I like the way you pose.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, but his amusement was evident as he slipped his hand up to the nape of your neck moving to stand in front of you. Unable to think under the weight of his touch you stepped into his space. 

You opened your mouth but Crosshair’s voice came first, “Don’t even bother asking.”

He wasn’t wrong -you were going to ask him the same thing. Instead, you reached up and gently guided his hand from your neck to your chest, pressing his palm against your heart. When the pace of your heart registered with him you said, “I was going to ask you to kiss me.” 

His eyes widened and it was now Tech’s voice that rang out. “Oh good, at least you're somewhat comfortable.” Crosshair pulled away like you were too hot to touch. “I would not be shy if I were you, Crosshair.” Tech said as he started stripping a few armor plates off. “Otherwise this will not have the desired effect for you.”

Tech stood with the majority of his plating stripped from the waist down. He came to your back, hands slipping in front of you to make quick work of your belt. It clattered to the ground, and your tunics soon followed, each piece of clothing creating a soft thud. 

Crosshair, still only a few feet from you, memorized every newly revealed patch of skin with an intensity that seemed to magnify the air between you.

When you were down to the bandeau, his breath hitched. When Tech released the bandeau, and you were finally exposed to him, a shudder ran through Crosshair. He’d been hard for sometime, but the sight of you now made him painfully harder. He grit his teeth as his cock pushed against his codpiece.

The flush of your chest, heaving in a mesmerizing way, matched your face. Crosshair extended a hand, gently grazing your nipple. Your eyes fluttered at the touch and Tech felt you shiver. 

“You should kiss her.” Tech suggested as he trailed his hands down your sides, over your stomach, and to the buttons of your pants. “You must talk to her.”

Crosshair cupped your breast, running his thumb over your nipple before catching it in a pinch. You took a sharp inhale and Crosshair moved in on your parted lips. He was gentle at first, kissing you slowly and sucking on your lip, but when you moaned into him Crosshair matched the noise and deepened the kiss. He held your face in place moving his lips against you as if he’d rather devour you than breathe.

When he heard the sound of fabric rustling, Crosshair finally eased up. Leaving you panting and leaning into his touch. As Tech kneeled he pulled your pants with him, trailing kisses down your back as he went. 

Crosshair stood back to let you step out of the pile of clothes around you. You were completely bare and squirming where you stood. His eyes roamed your body, snagging between your legs before meeting your gaze again.

Crosshair chuckled and said in a low voice, “I should’ve tossed you in a river much sooner.”

“Not exactly the time, Crosshair.” Tech said as he tugged you towards a cot. Crosshair followed at half the pace. 

Sitting you at the edge of a cot, Tech positioned himself between your knees. He pivoted to look back at Crosshair who kept a distance. “Are you ready?” Tech asked.

Crosshair tipped his head to you. “Aren’t you going to ask her?”

Tech didn’t break eye contact as he took one finger and traced it up over your wet folds. A string of your slick trailed after him as he brought his finger back in front of him. “Oh,” He said as he examined his wet fingers. “I don’t need to ask.”

You hooked a leg over Tech’s shoulder and pulled his attention back to you. “I’m done waiting, Tech.”

Tech shrugged, quipping, “Told you.”

On his knees, Tech leaned in to place a kiss on your cheek and give you access to his goggles. Your finger traced the side of his goggles until you felt a button. A light tap and a soft beep indicated and you were recording. Tech pulled back to press a kiss to your lips. “Thank you, Sarad.” 

He traced a hand from your neck, between your breasts and down to your thigh. Pushing your leg farther to the side Tech tucked his head in close to you and blew air over you. You hadn’t even shivered through the chill yet when Tech took your clit into his mouth. He gave your bud light, fast licks that deepened into slow rolling laps.

You lowered yourself onto your elbows and let your head dip back. You moaned softly, mewling your pleasure as Tech worked you up. He slid two fingers inside and your head snapped back up, eager to watch him work. 

It took you a moment to remember Crosshair’s presence, but when your eyes met Crosshair’s you nearly came on sight. Tech felt you tighten and slowed his rhythm -  you needed to last longer than that. 

“Cross?” You panted, eyes dipping to see if you could spot any sign of his arousal. “Are you…?” You wanted to hear, see, and even feel more of him-  but the words escaped you.

Crosshair never witnessed the look you were giving him, but he knew exactly what you wanted. He took slow steps forward, his hands dropping to the plating below his waist. The first to drop was his codpiece, revealing a large bulge behind his blacks. “Does that answer your question?” He drawled, his eyes caught on Tech’s movements.

“Show her.” Tech said in a momentary breath. He kissed the thigh you had over his shoulder, mumbling into your skin. “She wants to see.”

Crosshair flicked his plating to another cot. His hands gripped into fists a few times before he slipped his blacks out of the way and released his cock. Another burst of excitement rushed through you and Tech immediately eased off. He looked up at you, assessing how far gone you were, steadily curling his two fingers inside you.

Focused on Crosshair’s length, unsurprisingly similar to Tech’s, you bit your lip. “Show me.” You whined, your order sounding like pleading.

Crosshair stepped within reaching distance and did exactly as you asked. His hand slid down his shaft, lightly squeezing at the base and started a slow pace as he watched you quiver under Tech’s touch.

For a while you basked in the high of the two men worshiping you. Tech pushed you to the threshold of release once more before he stopped moving. Pulling your eyes from Crosshair you watched Tech sit back and wipe his palm over his mouth. Gently removing your leg he moved around your side to be face to face with you. 

“Crosshair,” Tech said, brushing a knuckle over your cheek. He leveled a look at his brother and asked, “Are you or are you not going to participate?” Tech moved himself behind you, supporting you between his legs. He left the spot between yours as an open invitation.

Crosshair didn’t hesitate. He kept his eyes on you as he kneeled, hands sliding up your inner thighs. As he settled in, Tech used one hand to circle your breast and the other roamed the rest of your skin in search of sensitivity. “Gently licking her is the best to start.” Tech advised, his eyes consuming every reaction you made.

The sniper dragged his thumb over your pussy, making a noise when your wetness pooled over his finger. Catching your attention, Crosshair smirked and dropped his gaze. He couldn’t stop the moan he made at the first glimpse of how truly aroused you were. His eyes locked with yours again and he lowered himself to you. As he opened his mouth, a whine made it past your lips as you eagerly waited for his touch. When he finally pressed his tongue flat against your entrance he licked the entirety of you and ended with a flick over your clit. 

The pressure he applied felt like electricity shot through you. Your hand flew to his head, gripping through his hair to gently push him back. His mouth was slightly open, his tongue still wet from the taste of you. 

“Gently.” Tech said firmly. He pulled you back to rest against him, your head resting close to where his cock pressed through his blacks.

“She seemed to like it.” Crosshair countered with confidence, pushing out of your light hold to taste you. He ran his tongue over you again, but this time he finished with swirling around your clit. You rested a hand on his head, your thumb mimicking the motion of his tongue. Crosshair hummed at the touch and covered your clit, sucking gently on you until your hips bucked against him.

Meanwhile, Tech rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You do like that,” he pinched slightly harder. “Your chest is flushing and your thighs are quivering - it would seem you are close.”

You admitted to it in a quick hush as your eyes fluttered to look up at Tech. Crosshair’s mouth was faster and more desperate than you were used to, but his gentle pressure was driving you to delirium. Tech watched your eyes gain the familiar glossed over look he constantly sought after. You were indeed close, painfully so.

Writhing under Tech’s touch, you rolled your head to the side and pressed your cheek against the heat of Tech’s cock. You kissed the hard length, then ran your tongue over the fabric separating you. Tech hissed and you felt him throb against you. 

“Ah, not yet.” Tech said, but didn’t pull your mouth away. When you tried twisting to gain more access, he finally moved you away. He looked down at you, angling his head to capture every inch of you. “I have a better idea.”

He said Crosshair’s name, who, recognizing the tone,immediately paused. Crosshair grazed your folds once more before pulling away while Tech slid his arms under you. You were used to Tech guiding you through positions and easily followed his lead until you were straddling him at the end of the cot.

Crosshair came up behind you, nestling his face into your neck. He deeply inhaled you and, on a strained exhale, saddled himself against your backside. You were so focused on the fact that Crosshair’s cock was pressing against you, you didn’t catch Tech pulling away his blacks.

Gazing up at you, Tech let his cock throb for a moment as he savored this view of you - panting, dripping, and blatantly pleased. He held your hip in place as he guided himself to your entrance. When his head glided over your slit, your focus dialed back in on Tech.

You felt the quiver inside you and couldn’t contain the way your hips gyrated in search of Tech. “You must lower yourself slowly.” Tech groaned as you did just that. When he was fully sheathed inside of you, you let out a breathless sound. The way Tech first filled you always took your breath away. This time you weren’t sure if you’d catch your breath. 

Tech pushed up into you, testing your limits, before rolling his hips back and lifting you back up. The two of you moved together like that for a few motions with Crosshair moving against you in tandem. When Tech was completely coated in you and you were adjusted to his size, Tech moved a hand to your back to pull you forward. As you bent with him, Tech kept himself buried inside of you.

He throbbed inside of you, but held you in place. “Crosshair.” He strained to say.

Silence fell over you and Crosshair as you both realized what Tech wanted. Crosshair found you already smiling over your shoulder at him and knew you were going to be the death of him. You were so confident and - “So beautiful.” Crosshair finished his thought out loud.

Another part of him wanted to know just how hard he had to fuck you to wipe that confident smirk clean. He cocked his head and snorted at the thought. Another time.

Crosshair leaned over, spitting on his cock as he began stroking himself again. He gathered his precum and covered the head of his cock in it. Sufficiently wet, Crosshair brought his cock to where Tech sat inside you. He slid his cock up against you and used his thumb to guide himself in. 

Each of you held your breath as Crosshair rocked his hips to slowly, inch by inch, work his was inside. He wasn’t even half way sheathed when you cried out.

Crosshair yanked you up against him. He was worried you were in pain, but was met with blissed out expression. Your leaned back into him, a hand reaching up for his face.

“We’ve hit her G-spot.” Tech explained as he took an exploratory thrust. When he slid back inside you, stretching you out with Crosshair, he felt the tell tale hip thrusts you made when you were about to cum. “Crosshair, hold her still.”

Crosshair fortified his hold on you, taking the moment to bury himself deep inside you. Suspended in the air, you were helpless against Tech’s touch. His thumb found your clit, pressing into you and he starting fucking you from below. 

You and Crosshair moaned in a similar way, both of you at the point of no return. Tech saw the two of you trembling against your pleasure and knew exactly what to do. He gave two hard final thrusts and squeezed your clit between his fingers and you were finished.

Pleasure broke through you, sending your back into an arch and your legs trembling. Crosshair clamped his mouth down on the nape of your neck, while Tech bit his own lip - both of them breaking through their orgasms. The two men shuddered against you and spilled themselves inside you. Cum quickly leaked out of you and down their cocks, acting as lubrication for their final mindless thrusts. They were both spent and basking in the haze of their climaxes.

Their throbbing threatened to push your past your limits, but collapsing back into Crosshair you didn’t think you’d mind even if they did.

The three of you panted for a few moments before you tapped on Crosshair’s arm, a silent request. He left a kiss on your skin as he pulled out of you, cumming spilling after him. The sudden loss of him almost made you pull him back. 

Tech relaxed underneath you. A pleased smile curved his lips and spread when he touched your face. “You were wonderful.” His praise warmed your chest. 

By the time Tech helped you up, Crosshair was already cleaning himself off and retrieving his armor. You blocked his path, hands on your hips, a playful smirk on your lips. “Not even going to help clean up?” Though your tone was light, teasing, you enjoyed prodding him just to see his reaction.

Crosshair responded by placing a toothpick between his lips and tipping your chin up with a finger. His eyes locked onto yours, unswayed by the allure of your body below the neck. “When it is just mine,” he murmured, his voice low and enticing, “I’ll lick you clean myself.” With a tap to your chin, he stepped around you, leaving you slightly agape in his wake.

Tech came over with your garments and a towel, a slight smile playing at his lips as he handed them to you. He then sat back on the cot, his gaze lingering on you as you began to clean up. With a tap of his goggles, he stopped recording. “This will certainly be… interesting to review,” Tech remarked casually as he started to reassemble his armor.

As you wiggled into your pants, you hummed a laugh. “Don’t you mean exhilarating .”

A light blush bloomed over his cheeks. But he pointed a finger at you. “I was not wrong about that.”

“No,” you planted a kiss on the top of his head with a smile. “You were not.”

[stealingyourbones]

Older Brother Danny Phantom

During the last year that Alfred worked as a secret intelligence officer for England, he was tasked to infiltrate and dismantle a fake ghost hunting branch of the US government. This fake branch that called themselves the Ghost Investigation Ward who was attempting to set up camp on English soil.

During his infiltration using a false identity and credentials, Alfred came across a boy named Phantom. He was the GIW’s “most prized catch”. Alfred’s heart ached as he saw the boy get hauled back to his cell day after day. With each day the boy sported more and more injuries from the GIW’s cruel “experiments”.l (Alfred knew damn well what they were doing to the boy was just short of torture and nothing more.)

Seeing the boy get hurt day in and day out, Alfred was more determined than ever to tear this place apart brick by brick. Soon enough, Alfred found enough evidence to prevent the GIWs from ever setting up camp on English soil ever again. After that, the British military invaded the place and took care of the workers while Alfred worked on freeing Dann, which the GIW’s files informed him was actually a boy named Daniel Fenton. The GIWs completely obliterated his hometown and reduced it to rubble. He had no home to return to and was expecting to just live in the ghost zone for the rest of his life. Alfred wouldn’t let that stand.

He made the rash decision to raise the boy as if he was his own. He later got hired by The Wayne’s after the butler Jarvis’s passing. Danny stayed in the manor with Alfred in the servant quarters. He wasn’t shown to the public and as far as the world knew, Alfred had no family.

Then the tragedy of The Wayne’s occurred on that fateful night. Martha and Thomas Wayne were murdered right before Bruce’s very eyes.

Danny helped Bruce learn to cope with his trauma and searched the Ghost Zone for his parents. (He came up empty handed. Bruce’s parents didn’t have a strong enough drive to become ghosts. Bruce appreciated the gesture none the less.) He and Alfred taught Bruce how to fight. He still went on his training journey all over the world but he knew a tad more before his travels than without his ghosty older brother.

Danny doesn’t really do anything as Phantom in Gotham. He’s done with fighting. The GIW capture convinced him that the only thing that would stop those bastards from hunting him was to destroy the Anti-Ecto acts and to dismantle the organization piece by piece.

Danny went to university and got a double major in computer programming and forensic science.

During the years that Bruce was away training, Danny was cracking down on the GIW and managed to successfully expose and fully dismantle the fake government organization.

Danny refused to premiere in Gotham as “Phantom”. He’s much rather leave his fighting days behind him and instead when Batman first came to the scene, he was the guy in the chair. Helping Bruce through an earpiece and assisting in putting the pieces of a crime together with the batcomputer.

He does help Bruce with the intimidation factor though. A slight spell to make him blend into the shadows a tad more than a normal person would, a small charm to make his movements seem twitchy and inhuman, a tiny incantation that made Bruce’s eyes glow a bright white, small spells to help make Batman less human and more a symbol of fear.

When the first Robin came around, Danny welcomed Dick with open arms as an uncle figure. Casting charms on Robin to let him glide and make chittering sounds that are impossible to make with human vocal cords.

He helps Jason and when the boy comes back, Danny immediately knows that something is off and collects the boy before he gets whisked away by the League of Assassins. He and Alfred teach Jason how to use a firearm at Jason’s request and non lethal rounds become Jason’s preferred weapon.

Danny positively adores Tim. He reminds Danny of himself when he was a teenager. Now in his mid to late 30’s, he recalls those years with a fondness that was definitely affected by rose tinted lenses. He takes him under his wing and teaches the boy about magic and how to integrate it into technology.

Damian instantly attaches himself to Danny the second they first make eye contact. Danny is obviously the most powerful person on the household and respects Damian in a way that surprises the boy. Danny knows Damian’s type well and he, along with Dick, help Damian adjust to the Bats code of vigilantism.

When Danny meets the League, it’s because Klarion summoned the Ghost King. Apparently The Ghost King was a Lord of Order but commonly evil aligned. They all are fearful with what’s to happen besides Batman. His shoulders relax when he hears what’s about to happen and informs the League to let Klarion finish his Ritual.

The League thinks that Batman has gone mad but Batman insists. They follow his orders and watch as Klarion calls the Lord of Infinite Realms to the mortal plane.

Danny appears in full Ghost King regalia. Danny positively radiates power in an absolutely terrifying manner. He notices Klarion and frowns. Looking around, he perks up when he notices Batman and Nightwing next to the various League members.

The League is extremely confused that this all powerful god of a being excitedly smiled and waved towards them. That confusion was nothing compared to a few moments later where the King of the Undead started talking to Batman about what was being made for dinner today. That and Tim finally managed to get the wrist portal to work. Batman is silent and simply silently nodding at the appropriate times but Nightwing is happily chatting back and forth with Danny as the Leagues jaws are on the fuckin floor.

Klarion doesn’t know what to do honestly. He thought the Ghost King was Pariah Dark, not this lanky inhuman looking figure who was sitting crisscross in the summoning circle and waving his hands animatedly to talk with Nightwing.

Klarion yells to The Ghost King to stop talking and to fight these fools. Danny then stops and the temperature drops a solid 30 degrees. He pauses for a few moments and oh so slowly turns around to Klarion. His eyes now blading with green fire, his limbs extending and gaining extra joints, his teeth growing more and more elongated and sharp. He looms over Klarion and tells him to kindly fuck off and to never talk to him, his brother, or his nephew ever again.

Klarion is fucking terrified as Danny just fully shifts into his true form and looms over the Witch Boy. Klarion hastily agrees and leaves in fear of getting fuckin evaporated by this being that is much more powerful than him.

The League is freaking out because “Nephew?!?!” “Brother?!?!” What?! How on earth was the fuckin ghost king related to Batman?

Flash asks Nightwing and Dick just smiles and goes “he was adopted” and that was that. The League sees Danny more often now. Be sometimes pops into the Watchtower to watch the stars, to help out during watch duty, to check in with the batfamily that is in the watchtower. Sure Shazam and John have an adverse reaction to Danny Initially but they eventually just accept that this all powerful ghost lord is just there to talk to his family.

[lovebites-if]

DEMO (tba) - FAQ - NAVIGATION

Tag(s): Slice of Life, Fantasy, Comedy, Drama, Romance, YA, LGBTQ+, Text-based, Lighthearted. Inspired by The Office and What We Do In The Shadows.

Congratulations, human!

You have been chosen to join the extraordinary Creature Mediation Center (CMC), a unique workplace where all kinds of different monsters creatures collaborate to bridge the specieist gap in our society. As the newest and only human of our team, you'll navigate a world of diverse creatures, handling counseling sessions, managing projects, and making critical decisions to foster harmony between two worlds.

Welcome to a realm where diplomacy is a blend of corporate intrigue and fantastical diversity!

Customize your human MC's physical appearance, personality, age (25-35) and many more features.

Build relationships with diverse colleagues, each with unique personalities, backgrounds, and challenges. Strengthen alliances or face consequences based on your interactions.

Encounter a plethora of fantastical creatures, each with its own cultural nuances, habits, and communication styles. Learn to navigate this rich tapestry of diversity.

Juggle various projects aimed at fostering understanding and cooperation between monsters and humans. Successes and failures affect the overall atmosphere in the office.

Engage in crucial decision-making that impacts office dynamics, relationships, and the overall course of monster and human relations. Your choices influence the harmony or discord between both species. Good luck, human!

RO Intros • Choosing a route

Among the various members of your team, we present you the Monsters Working With the Human Division (MWHD) provisional name.

Naira/Namid (she/her or he/him) • THE WEREWOLF • 32 years old

Animated, bubbly and incredibly friendly, our beloved N brings an energetic and passionate, and lively spirit to the office. As a Werewolf, their empathetic nature makes them adept at counseling. They joined the office seeking a bridge between the worlds, hoping to dispel misconceptions about werewolves and foster understanding.

Friends to lovers, idiots in love, (possible) friends with benefits. It's possible to enter a poly relationship with N and Val.

Val (she/her or he/him) • THE VAMPIRE • age undisclosed (200+)

Mysterious and meticulous, Val is the epitome of a centuries-old vampire. Their adherence to rules and structure contrasts with the unfortunate chaotic nature of the office. Val took on this role to observe and maintain order, ensuring the delicate balance between humans and monsters.

Slow-burn, (Val's) First love. It's possible to enter a poly relationship with N and Val.

Maureen/Marius (she/her or he/him) • THE GRIM REAPER • age undisclosed (300+)

Enigmatic yet compassionate, M retired from their reaping decades ago. They've been part of the office for a few years now, working almost exclusively with ghosts and their human relatives. M's unique perspective offers profound insights into life and afterlife.

Forbidden love, friends to lovers, mutual pining.

Devan (they/them) • THE ONI • 28 years old

Devan embodies the mischievous spirit of an Oni, their playful and curious personality makes them difficult to handle, yet very useful in dynamic environments. Their love for challenges drew them to the office, eager to tackle the complexities of monster and human relations.

Idiots in love, (possible) friends with benefits. Oblivious to love (Devan).

Lucian/Leah (he/him or she/her) • THE MERMAID • 25 years old

L's calm and observant personality brings a tranquil presence to the office. As a Mermaid, they contribute a unique perspective on the challenges of both land and sea. L joined to explore new horizons and bridge the gap between underwater and terrestrial life.

Rivals to lovers, (possible) rivals with benefits, pining (one-sided, mostly MC's).

Cyrus (he/him or she/her) • THE ZOMBIE • 30 years old

Cyrus defies zombie stereotypes. Their ability to empathize and understand others' emotions makes them an excellent counselor. Cyrus joined the office seeking redemption and a chance to demonstrate that even the undead can contribute positively to society.

Everyone can see it, Girl/Boy next door, Soft love.

??? (he/him or she/her) • ??? • ???

Are you sure about that?

Enemies to lovers. Red flag RO. “I can fix them.”

While we support, Human-Monster relationships, dating a coworker is prohibited. If you suspect anyone in your work environment of engaging in such behavior, contact your boss and supervisor Arion/Arianne (a proud gorgon).

We hope your time with us is fruitful, human.

[pomefioredove]

fav twst writer btw!!! i read your posts religiously

can i ask for octavinelle + silver, ruggie, & epel (my 3 favs) with a reader whos prince rielles sibling, same year as them obv, and is based off of ponyo?

thank you so much!! my knowledge on ponyo is somewhat limited, hope this turned out okay nonetheless

summary: prince rielle's sibling type of post: headcanons characters: ruggie, azul, floyd, jade, epel, silver additional info: short, platonic or romantic, not proofread, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu

����𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢

the whole "merperson" thing goes completely over his head

you're royalty, you like him, and you're not making him work his tail off for the time of the day?

oh, he's hooked

...pun not intended

it might even get to the point where he starts doing nice things for you out of his own free will!

if only to stay on your good side, but hey, it still counts, right?

𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨

Azul, ironically enough, sees Prince Rielle as an airhead

...and for good reason

based off what he remembers of Rielle, he's a hopeless romantic, insanely gullible, and always has his head in the clouds

...and he can certainly see the family resemblance in you

though, at least you're... kind of endearing, and have some impressive magic skills to back you up

maybe he'll hold off on scamming you for now

𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡 + 𝐉𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡

the two have a vaguely similar impression of Rielle, though, unlike Azul, they try not to make assumptions based off of family resemblance

(they've had their fair share of that between the two of them)

after all, Prince Rielle has many siblings

all varied in personality

and you're quite the curious one, aren't you?

with quite an appetite

the duo always welcomes you inside the lounge with open arms, eager for a piece of Coral Sea nostalgia you always seem to offer...

𝐄𝐩𝐞𝐥 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐫

Epel supposes he knows what it's like to feel out of place

...even if you do seem to blend right in

he's almost jealous of how eagerly you adapt to life at school when he's been struggling since he got here

and your magical abilities are nothing to sneeze at

which is especially impressive to him, considering that you're actually smaller than he

he would never in a million years ask for advice from someone who's been walking on land for less time than he has... but... maybe, if you want to chat, he'll be around

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫

he'll acknowledge your magic is rather impressive for a first year student, and he doesn't doubt your abilities for a second

he knows better than to underestimate the cute and friendly type

Silver is also somewhat familiar with Coral Sea culture... though, his knowledge may be a little outdated, since it comes from his father

oh, well

this might serve as a valuable learning experience for him, anyway

...while he's presently awake and listening, that is

[toodelusionalforreality]

Sanctuary

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: The mysterious bar becomes Azriel's hideaway over time. Despite his intentions, he finds himself drawn to its owner as much as the place itself.

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. It's 5 in the morning and I'm sleep deprived. I've tried my best to edit it.

Word count: ~5.2k

Warning: None [minimal editing/proofreading/formatting]

Previous Chapter: Rare

Three weeks later, Azriel stood in front of the red-bricked building again. Alone. He returned home from his latest mission, bruised and battered, and patched to perfection only a few hours ago. Madja had seen him off with an instruction—a thinly veiled order, to be precise—to take two days’ complete rest. Despite the vial of sleeping tonic he emptied in front of her strict eyes, Azriel was restless in his bed. And for some unearthly reason, he went to the one place he never thought of after that night.

The hag looked up at him with eyes so sullen and dead that for a moment, Azriel believed she had forgotten him. Then her lips stretched thinly and her eyes turned bright with excitement. Without a falter in his steps, he took a gold out of his pocket, dropped it on her desk, and reached for the doorknob. He ignored her smug gratitude as he pushed the door open.

The room looked exactly as he remembered. With its dim lighting and almost empty tables, it appeared bigger, darker, and hauntingly beautiful. Azriel went to the same corner he and his family occupied only days ago. A familiar blend of metal and spices welcomed him.

The sequence of events was reminiscent of that night. The same server tended to him with a more relaxed smile. Quiet chatter and waves of laughter filled the room. The band played music, calm and lulling, unlike the upbeat one they played that first night. For each of his emptied glasses, a filled one took its stead. 

He felt filthy to have sneaked in alone in secrecy. He was exhausted. He needed a drink. It was a bar. All perfect reasons for someone visiting that place late into the night. 

And yet, something felt wrong about his logic. By the time he was done, the soothing effect of the tonic and countless drinks had settled in.

The week Rita’s opened its doors again, even with its eerie elegance and overflowing liquor, Pharus couldn’t keep the crowds returning. Even his friends would never set foot in a place like this now that they had their favourite pub again, where the lights were too bright and the music was too loud. Leaving it all the more enticing to Azriel. 

Time slowed down within those dark red-stoned walls. Hush fell over the room whenever the band paused between their ballads. Wines were more generous and sweeter each time he visited. Night after night, only regulars remained bearing their loyalty. The servers and bartender greeted them like an old friend with light banters.

Azriel frequented the bar in between his missions—more often than he dared to admit. Every time, he walked into the hall before he had the chance to doubt himself, went to the same table which by now had his claim on it, and Uri, his usual server, kept his glasses full while making polite conversations. 

Pharus offered him refuge from his family, from his job, and from the world. Whenever he needed to recuperate in the quiet, he chose the hidden bar over the comfort of his warm bed. 

His shadows embraced his new ritual with much ease. During his early visits, they ventured out to study the layout of the building, learning the nooks and crannies like they always did with every new territory. They familiarised and warmed up to the place sooner than he had expected.

They gave him company and scared away anyone who approached him, except Uri, who had grown immune to seeing them since the first night. Most days they stayed close to him, shifting on his shoulders like a cool wrap of darkness. And when eyes caught his presence, they curled around him until he became one with the dark corner. 

Once in a while, they swarmed his shoulders, whispering nothing coherent, and wove around his hands until they drew his attention. But they had nothing to say or sensed no threat. Azriel believed it to be the effects of the drinks he had and noted which ones to steer away from. 

His missions kept him away from Velaris often. He was even glad of this little hindrance, for he wouldn’t want his family to find out about his trysts. Over months, the routine only forged deeper into his muscles, becoming one with his mind. After every mission, before every mission, and sometimes in between, he found a reason to return to the bar.

He was stealthy about it, sneaking out only after his family retired for the night. If they knew their shadowsinger, quiet and reserved, visited a bar often, he would lose the one place he enjoyed other than his home sooner than he blinked. 

Pharus was his dirty, heavenly secret.

Uri gravitated towards Azriel more than to his other customers. But he also always had stories to tell. And Azriel’s innate curiosity allowed the server to dish out gossip after gossip. The most interesting ones were of their owner. Nothing made sense about her, and yet Uri spoke of her life like it was a finished book—all chapters done and closed, with loose ends tied, pieced in perfect order.

Azriel never voiced it though, he rarely said a word. He preferred observing from the shadows, and so he did. Listened to every story Uri gave him, noticed the way the patrons perked up when N worked at the bar, and counted her footsteps on the other side of the door. 

‘She is not here tonight,’ said Uri as he poured him another drink. Azriel looked up from surveying the room. ‘That’s why it’s packed.’ The server set the bottle down and slumped in one of the chairs at the table, clearly meant for more than one. ‘The moment she is out of Velaris, they come flocking in until she’s back.’

Azriel lifted a brow. How much did these people hate her or fear her if they went to such great lengths?

‘They feel powerful. It’s their version of rebellion,’ Uri continued, not realising the spymaster had gleaned that much already. He glared at the man who threatened Raya, the bartender, with a creepy smile. ‘To step in here after she humiliated them. But they don’t have the balls to do much else.’

‘Aren’t you afraid they might hurt you?’ Azriel usually limited his questions to one or none. But sometimes, his curiosity was a wretched curse. 

Uri shrugged, and his lips pulled into a smirk. ‘They know she’ll hunt them down.’

Like he promised, the crowd thinned to the regulars again, the peaceful ones. After each of her trips, N tended to the bar—a sign of her return, a warning to the lurkers to crawl back to their pits.

‘Where’s she?’ Azriel had asked the server once when she didn’t show up for weeks. Even his shadows were alert to know the answer. 

‘To get supplies, I guess,’ frowned Uri. For the first time, he hesitated to discuss N's errands. ‘We get tired of asking and keeping up with it. One time it’s for the bar, the other it’s for the shop, and then, there are personal reasons. And those are even harder to pry from her.’

’Shop?’

Uri toyed with the cork of a wine bottle between his fingers, eyes scanning for signs of a call from other patrons, out of habit rather than necessity. ‘Yeah, one along the banks. She has this blade business. Better than this one, really.’ Sensing Azriel's blank stare, he continued with a breathy laugh, ‘You don’t really think we get any money from this place, do you?’

‘I don’t know. Seems like a good place.’ 

Azriel swept a glance across the room—the elegant fissures, ambient lighting, plush seats and chairs, and beautiful shelves filled with bottles and bottles of liquor. Some would agree it had a certain charm to it.

But according to Uri, they lost a lot of their customers because of N’s rules. Many were kicked out, some with warnings, some with broken bones until the ones looking for trouble weeded out—the reason Rita’s still thrived a decade after Pharus opened, which was an ideal choice for the vain faerie folk. 

What Uri called a misfortune was a blessing for Azriel, for he wouldn’t be visiting if not for the dwindling clientele.

Uri laughed. ‘You are the only good tipper we have. We barely make anything to keep the bar afloat. N pays us with her own money. From that shop. She wanted to have something simple, but Raya,’ he waved his hand in the general vicinity, ‘wanted all this, convinced her it would be good for business. N didn’t even complain. She put everything together and made a deal with Raya. She runs the place while N takes care of the expenses.’

He grew quiet with his words, his thoughts distant and his voice troubled. ‘Sometimes I don’t think she even likes it here. She prefers the quiet, you know. A bar is the last place someone like that will go looking, forget running. And here she is, taking care of one.’ After a brief breath, he added with a smile, ‘And us, too.’

Azriel had questions, but he kept them to himself. He always had other means to find out. If he wanted to.

Though sprinkled over months, others had grown accustomed to his visits. The hag stopped trying to sneak a word in as she only glanced at him, the small act still beheld a hint of eagerness. People shuffled to a different table when they spotted him at the door. Raya and Uri knew his preferences well.

Even when his missions weren’t as gruesome as the one that tempted him to find a sanctuary for himself, even when they were as mundane as a daily chore, Azriel returned. His own paradise to soothe his soul whenever the darkness began to slick in his veins.

Centuries later, longing still lingered in his chest—unknown and melancholic—a sort of emptiness that never truly faded away. A desperate call to be heard and acknowledged in the lonesome of the night. 

Ripping the cool sheets off his body, Azriel got out of his bed again. He worried his visits had developed into an obsession of sorts, an addiction, as he readied himself for flight on a stormy night.

Cold seeped into the walls as he tucked himself away into the familiar corner. The golden lights from the overhead lanterns glowed warmer, but dimmer. The same scent of spices suffocated the room, sharp and intense in the thick, humid air, and yet it felt right. The patter of rain against the windows muted other sounds in the room, cocooned him in his own world, shielding him away in the solitude he had known all his life. 

Loners, much like him, scattered across the space, keeping a distance from one another—the storm outside rousing a storm within their hearts and souls.

Uri sat on a stool at the bar, talking with Raya and the other server whose name Azriel never learnt. Their laughter was the only merry sound in the room. Uri split away long enough to offer Azriel his drink and returned to his friends. They seemed happy and content in their own world too. 

Slowly, some made their exit after a few drinks, none too keen to linger for long. The way Raya eyed the ones still at the tables, she wanted to close soon. Azriel didn’t intend to stay either. 

His shadows flitted along the edges of his wings, around his talons. They descended from his shoulders down his arms caressing, their coldness more acute than that of the weather.

Azriel opened his hands and set them on the table. The darkness wreathed around his wrists, slithered to his palms, and danced at his fingertips. They were starker and colder against the warmth of the lanterns. His eyes drifted up, just a glance, and found the door locked. 

The liquor burned his throat, and Azriel closed his eyes. A fresh wave of scent hit his face—something he quite couldn’t figure out and spices. He drained the last of his drink.

The band fiddled for a moment before they began their next song, quiet and low. A voice, sweet and silky, sang along to the music. The one he had heard only once, and yet weaved into his dreams on some nights. He took a long breath and let the voice lure him—his eyes, his senses, his being.

She stood on the small dias, in the middle, among the musicians. The overhead lantern seemed to move with her voice, light shifting around her. An aura enveloped her lithe body with a golden radiance, turning her into a being of light and amber. With her eyes closed, she didn’t care if anyone listened to her song. Her weight swayed between her feet with the rhythm. Wisps of hair stuck to her wet lips that moved deliciously as she sang. 

Everything faded away—the band, the patrons, the bar—except for her croon, gentler than midnight’s whispers. Even the rains lowered their cries to a murmur, letting her melody echo in the bliss of the night.

Her song told a story of love and yearning—a proclamation to her lover. Her voice held an emotion so pure and true that if he closed his eyes, if he let himself, Azriel could believe he was the one she sang to. He mused if others heard her the way he did. If they noticed the nuances of her breaths, the slight hum in between verses, the lilt at the words whenever a smile tugged at her lips. 

Emotions stirred in his chest, ones he hadn’t felt in his long immortal life, ones he hadn’t known existed. Ache crept away as an ease settled in his heart, a comfort carried to him by her song. When a soft tremor shook through her voice, Azriel wondered how her throat would throb under his marred skin.

His eyes snapped open, and he sucked in a breath. He brought the glass to his lips, his hand trembling. Completely empty. He needed a drink. But he didn’t dare look up. 

His shadows swayed, their movements as light as hers. They whispered in his ears as they sang with her, weaving themselves through the silences left by her breaths.

When the music ended, a quiet fell over. The sound of rain hitting the windows thrummed through the room. Slowly, with each step she took towards her office, the world emerged out of her trance.

A piece of him craved her attention. Look at me, it said, demanded, pleaded. His shadows stilled as they watched. She offered a smile to her friends at the bar before she disappeared behind that damned door. 

Azriel sat there long after N was gone. Long after her voice was nothing but a phantom ringing in his ears. Listening to her footfalls above, as quiet as her breathing. Knowing he was closer to her than he had ever been watching her behind her desk or the bar.

Every secret revealed itself one way or another. In Azriel’s case, it was because of his wretched luck as a person or dumb arrogance as a spymaster.

As his family voiced their plans for the night at Rita’s, he shot down their pleas and left for Pharus after dinner, earlier than usual. Instead of finding his table empty and reserved, he was thrust back in time to that first night. 

Mor’s bold red dress, Cass already with a filled glass in his hand, Feyre and Rhys in each other’s arms, Elaine’s open smile, and Nesta’s piercing gaze on her mate. Except for minor seating arrangements, the scene was uncannily the same.

Every pair of eyes at the table stared at him, expecting sudden news. Finally, realisation morphed into shock before Azriel could walk back out. He gave up hiding then. 

Strolling to the table, he took the one seat his family left unoccupied. Uri immediately came to his side with his favoured drink, greeting him with a cheery, ‘Hey, you’re back!’ And explained in excruciating detail how long and often he visited.

Azriel could take the teasing and taunting of his brothers. But what he couldn’t tolerate was their plans to frequent and vet out the bar—his secret haven, to find the source that prompted the infamous shadowsinger to break out of his habits. 

As each of them came up with one ridiculous reason after the other, Azriel sipped on his drink. He leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee. He settled in for a long night of interrogation. But he was a spymaster after all and had five centuries' worth of experience with those he called his family.

‘So you lied to us all those nights?’ Disappointment shone in Mor’s eyes as she asked, ‘When I begged you to go to Rita’s with me, you instead came here alone?’

Azriel didn’t answer. His finger trailed along the side of his glass, his eyes on the dewdrops breaking under his skin. He had grown used to the taste, the smell, and the air of the place like it was a second home already. He was acutely aware of every entry and exit point in the building, including the door in front of him. One which was perched open that night.

His shadows crawled up his shoulders, settling higher than usual, almost licking his ear. Their whispering turned incoherent again and with his family’s eyes on him, he didn’t particularly feel understanding of them. Yet they continued, growing impatient.

He felt a nip on the back of his neck. He took a deep breath and looked up at Mor’s expectant eyes and then beyond her perfect blonde hair. N walked out of the office, ready to take Raya’s place at the bar. She had returned from yet another trip. 

A smirk found its way onto Azriel’s lips for the knowledge he possessed, for the ins and outs he knew of her life while she had no idea of his existence. The power he held over her.

‘Now, now,’ Rhys said, his eyes sparkling. ‘Let him have a moment.’ When Azriel turned to him sharply, he glanced at N. 

But not too subtle to go unnoticed. Every one of them turned to the bar, sizing up the supposed reason for his escapades. If N felt their gazes on her, she moved unbothered, as feline as ever.

And each of his friends had the same idea. Mor was the first to act on it. She headed to the counter and perched herself on a stool right in front of N. 

By denying it, Azriel would dig his grave deep, and even deeper by defending N. He kept his lips sealed and eyes on the band while his shadows curled around his ears, narrating the scene.

Mor returned with a drink in her hand, spoke into Feyre’s ear, and turned to her other side, sharing her learnings with Cass. Feyre left her chair a short while after. N smiled at her the whole time she answered Feyre’s questions and made her a drink. Feyre returned. Cass shifted in his seat, ready for his turn, yet waiting to leave an ample gap in time.

Azriel stood up as Cass’s chair grated against the floor. He made a quick line to the bar and took a seat next to the one Mor and Feyre had chosen, a bit of distance between them to make it inconspicuous.

He mumbled his order under his breath, completely aware of his family’s stares on his back and the teasing laughs they didn’t bother to conceal. Soon, a drink appeared before him. Azriel didn’t look up, but he nodded. He waited long minutes for his family’s excitement to die.

‘You don’t like it?’ The question was as soft as the voice that spoke it, the words laced with tentative curiosity. Azriel lifted his eyes.

She had moved to stand in front of him. Her gaze was sharp like that first night when she studied him and his wings. Her eyes held a calmness that would terrify anyone who got too close to notice. Little specks of light reflected in them, flickering. Her hair flowed in soft waves over her shoulder, damp at the bottom from a recent shower, and yet it glowed under the golden light. Her smile was polite and a bit tight, born out of necessity. Her scent wafted to him, fresh and earthy. He wondered if she remembered him, and most did because of his shadows.

When he didn’t respond, she nodded at his drink left untouched. He lifted the glass and drank the whole thing in a gulp. A real smile appeared on her face. 

‘You can tell me if you don’t like it.’ She sounded tender, like her song, unlike with that male all those nights ago. She reached for another glass and asked, ‘Want to try something else?’

Azriel nodded once. He didn’t utter a word, but didn’t take his eyes off her, either. He didn’t need his shadows to know of his family’s prying eyes and ears. A wave of darkness eased behind his back, hiding them. She placed a glass half-filled with a honey-coloured liquor. When she reached for his empty one, Azriel fisted his hands and tucked them closer to his chest.

‘Don’t worry.’ Her voice turned comforting, softer. ‘Your face is too distracting for anyone to notice that.’ Her hands returned the bottles she had taken out to prepare the orders as her eyes scanned the other patrons sitting at the far end of the counter. 

Such words from a woman who only smiled at her customers like a chore. His nerves tingled from head to toe. He was glad for the drink in his hand to blame. When he looked at her, she had only a ghost of a smile, a remnant of the one she wore seconds ago.

He let out a low chuckle. He asked carefully, ‘Is that your attempt at flirting with me?’

She fixed him with a steady stare, a slight tilt to her head. ‘I’m guessing no one tells you the truth unless they get something in return.’

His breath stuck in his throat. While he spent months learning about her, however unintentionally, she unravelled him with a mere look. 

With a shrug of his shoulder, he brought the glass to his lips. The drink was much sweeter than the ones he had before. When it reached his throat, the bitterness hit him, and then, the burn. She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips into a straight line.

Azriel wanted her to do anything but assess him. ‘Are you singing tonight?’ He gambled with the harmless one of his secrets to keep her from stumbling upon the deeper ones.

She stayed silent for a moment. Then she smiled again. ‘Are you asking me to?’

Azriel watched the lights scatter on the surface of his liquor as he toyed with the glass. He lowered his voice, wary of his family behind him, ‘I wouldn’t mind if you did.’

‘I only fill in when they need me. I’m usually in the office.’ 

Anyone who talked to him for the first time always caught themselves staring at his shadows. Always. But her eyes remained on his face. She only saw him, not the darkness shrouding him, not the shadowsinger. His shadows darted back and forth, wanting to reach for her and backing away. They listened when she talked and garbled words when she fell quiet.

I know, Azriel wanted to say.

A hush fell over. A few murmured before a soft cheer rippled through the air. Azriel glanced at the band as they prepared for their next number. When he turned back to her, she was looking at them. He lifted a brow. A silent question. She stared at him for a minute, a long minute. Azriel willed himself to hold her gaze. She stepped away from the bar.

He bowed his head. The last thing he wanted his family to see was the smile on his lips. After a few minutes of shuffling and trial chords, the music began. He refrained from looking over his shoulder. At his family, at her. He took a sip when her voice reverberated through the brick walls, soothing and sensual. 

His heart tightened in his chest. She sang of love again. He asked her to sing, and she sang of love—naughty, brazen love. Azriel chuckled at the not-so-subtle innuendo in the lyrics. Her voice mellowed at the end of every verse, softer than a purr. He closed his eyes. 

This time he didn’t stop himself from imagining how she would feel under him, if she’d sound as sweet or sweeter when she moaned for him. His shadows peeped over his shoulders. Her eyes were only on him. That damned minx knew what he was up to.

He dared to give her his attention. She smiled at him before she closed her eyes. She swayed to the music, almost imperceptible, but not to his eyes. He had watched her sing before. He knew how she moved. 

Her every word was a caress to him. Her voice reached out, striking a chord in his heart that never existed until that moment. If she held his hand and led him to her home upstairs, he would follow, if only to trap himself with her in the quiet, away from the world.

She stood still for a moment with her eyes closed even after the music ended, just the way she always did. She didn’t return to him. Instead, she walked into her office and gave him a smile as she closed the door behind her.

Another few months of missions further limited Azriel from going back to Pharus. A part of him believed his brothers did it on purpose to test him. Between her strange business trips and his necessary missions, Azriel had the chance to avoid her. He embarrassed himself in front of his family to last a few centuries.

Cass and Nesta still teased him by singing her song whenever they received snark from him and didn’t have a retort. Impromptu vocalising, holding each other in their arms, eyes bulging out of their sockets as they pranced around him.

Fortunately, it was the worst they could do to him. Once he refused a healing potion and Madja muttered under her breath, ‘I bet he’d be downing it if she gave him.’ And he wondered how far the news of his non-existent affair with N spread in the court.

‘Where are you off to, brother?’ Cass would yell at his back each night he left the dinner table. 

‘Far away from you,’ Azriel would mumble, ‘From all of you.’ And if he felt cheeky enough, he teased back, ‘To look at someone prettier than you.’ 

‘All I heard is that I'm pretty!’ Cass would shout back. 

Echoes of her name rang off the walls interlaced with his family’s laughter some days and nights as he left the room with a smile on his lips.

The times he went to the bar, his brothers appeared by his side miraculously. On rare nights, they left him alone. But those nights weren’t rare enough. They sat beside him and spied the door, waiting for her to grace them with her presence.

For he was the one taunted, his family sure seemed to be more obsessed with her than he was. They invited Uri sometimes to gather ammunition against Azriel in his slow torture. If the server had shown no suspicion until then, he sure would soon.

Except for Mor, Nesta and Feyre, none of the others had talked to N. And Azriel was grateful for it. The catastrophe his brothers alone would cause if they ever met her was something Azriel tried not to imagine. The looks they shared that night still lingered in his mind. 

A sigh left his lips unwarranted. Both his brothers turned to him with a look on their faces he didn’t bother to decode. The place offered Azriel peace once. And now, it was only a haunting place with a ghost, N.

The reveal of his secrets had tainted the peace of the bar, for it was crowded more and more on each visit. He could find a different hiding spot. He could go home and lie in his bed again. He wouldn’t need the scent of spices and metal of the place to lull him enough to rest peacefully later.

Uri filled his glass with a drink that looked like the one N had made for him. Even the server was glad to be anywhere but around his brothers.

One last drink.

Azriel took a long sip—not even close to how it had tasted. His shadows swarmed his shoulders, their weight pressing, as if they sensed his intentions. They did, they always did. The only ones who truly understood why he did or said anything. Maybe they had come to mourn the loss of their safe space too. 

The door slid open by mere inches. Raya nudged it further with her foot as she walked in. N stepped aside. Her eyes went to someone in front of her, away from the door. Raya shimmied out with bottles in both her hands, a few tucked between her arms and chest, leaving the door open and wide behind her. Never once had she needed that much alcohol in one night before.

N leaned against the table and crossed her arms over her chest. Clad in only a simple white shirt, long and loose, and her legs bare past mid-thighs, she hadn’t planned to make an appearance that night. Her tousled hair was a graceful mess, as if she had been in bed for a while, or someone’s fingers had the pleasure of threading through them, over and over again. A darkening red scratch—thin and sharp—ran along her leg from thigh to ankle. It was fresh but healing, slowly. 

Azriel didn’t blink. His brothers’ words faded as much as the rest of his surroundings. His shadows froze over his shoulders, deadly quiet unlike themselves.

Raya went back in. Then there he stood, the man N was smiling at. He leaned down and whispered in her ear before pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek. Close to her mouth. N shook her head and made for the stairs. She still smiled. The man trailed her, a hand on her hip and a smirk on his face. Raya walked out for the last time and closed the door behind her.

The glass in his hand dropped to the wood with a soft thud. The cool liquid sloshed inside and spilt over his fingers.

As if invisible claws clutched his heart and plunged him into icy waters, the haze deluding his senses and thoughts faded away in a blink. Every nerve in his body honed to one thought. Finally, the vision became clearer.

Azriel bared his teeth. A low growl rumbled in his chest. The incoherent whispers of his shadows finally took shape.

Mate.

taglist: @mybestfriendmademe

[ghcstao3]

The Ghostsoap school au one kills me. Popular sunshine Johnny who wants to draw and do art but is always being bothered and needed to help others look more popular. Silent blending in Simon because he’s just holding on to school until he can finally leave and start earning full time to support his mum and brother and get away from his dad. Simon who’s failing classes because he’s so tired from working shifts for money and to get out of the house. Johnnys house becoming a safe haven where he gets patched up after beatings and the McTavishes can feed him

that first project they’re assigned to, simon was actually hesitant to accept johnny’s proposal to work on it at his house. but when he does, he’s astounded to see a home that doesn’t exist as a hostile environment, that actually feels like a home, and he acts on his absolute best behaviour when johnny’s parents come around because he’s afraid of punishment. of everything being a facade.

once they’re properly friends and later together as boyfriends, johnny does everything in his power to make his house a safe space for simon—especially once he learns a bit more about his situation. simon feels guilty about intruding, as well as about leaving his mum and brother to deal with his father alone, but johnny has to insist that he’s always welcome, and that none of that is his fault. johnny may not understand, but he can certainly offer his support.

and johnny’s admiration of simon grows impossibly so, seeing how strong simon is, how resilient, how caring and kind he is in spite of the father that waits at home for him. simon finds a similar adoration for johnny blooming, seeing how compassionate, genuine, and nonjudgemental he is. how he always stands his ground, for himself and simon.

i dunno. maybe in this universe they don’t have to join the military to seek something missing, when they already have each other so early on :)