nova-andromeda-kun · 2 years ago
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tall quiet x short v ft. kaz
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ducktracy · 2 years ago
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what a fantastic transition
#as much as i absolutely adore LT with all my heart there are no cartoons out there that give me such a CONSISTENT sense of raw visceral joy#than the Fleischer Popeyes#they are the epitome of fun. that’s such a vague word i know but i think it perfectly encapsulates these cartoons#not too gaudy or self absorbed. despite the fantastical nature of some plots and the gags and visuals there’s a down to earth humility as#well. it owns its simplicity very well. hearing that ‘30s jazz reach a climax as the visuals and gags and tactility and emotions get#stronger and faster in the climax of these shorts literally#gives me goosebumps! it’s an adrenaline rush#i also adore Olive Oyl. i mean i love them all. Bluto is the greatest cartoon asshole of all time. i love the nobility of Popeye. but i#really love that Olive gets to be just as loud and mean and weird and ‘ugly’ as the rest of the guys. she can throw a punch too. she’s not#just there to look pretty or be coquettish. she has a really natural charm and doesn’t feel forced like ‘oooo look at the cool LADY#participating too!’ which i feel is an issue with cartoons of both the past and present#she’s just another facet to these cartoons without calling much attention to herself and i really like that and wish there were more#like her#popeye#seasin’s greetinks#kneitel#vid#the lack of regular woman characters outside of thin tropes in golden age cartoons doesn’t bug me as much as it really should#because as a kid i was so used to watching ‘boy’ cartoons and connecting with ‘boy’ characters (i thought liking girl characters would make#me ‘girly’) and so it’s something i’ve always been sort of used to#but with that said Olive is one character i feel very strongly about and am glad she exists for those reasons#i don’t know why i’m getting so deep on this 10 second post? but anyway you should watch Popeye if you haven’t
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buttercup-art · 30 days ago
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hey
#so i've been dealing with some irl stuff recently#nothing too bad. it was just really frustrating and exhausting for me. and really putting a damper on my mood and my art#and i'm sorry if i've been acting a little weird or not saying too much or anything#or if i've been kinda inactive for the past few days#but i'll be okay!#i just wanted to let you guys know what's been kinda going on#i'm slowly working on something really sweet involving Hugo and Noa. so that's been making me feel better#i need something happy and soft between them lol#also! I've been playing The Quarry recently!#the writing is kinda stupid and almost all of the characters act like they don't have a brain. but that's what makes it so fun!#and i'm pretty sure the devs did that intentionally. to make it seem more like a campy monster flick#i'm really enjoying it so far! the werewolves are really cool!#also it's really funny to me how they just pop like balloons whenever they're transforming#i thought it was gonna be a slow transformation. but no. their skin just immediately explodes off#and then they somehow get it all back when they turn back into humans? idk how that works but it's pretty rad#also also! the thing with the tarot cards is really cool!#i missed a lot in the beginning because i didn't know what i was looking for#and the fortune teller lady in between chapters kept getting mad at me for not finding any#but i eventually started to get it! when the game decided to really put one in my face in chapter 3 lol#and the thing with the tarot cards representing the different characters in the game got me thinking about what card Noa would probably be#i think Seven of Swords would be right up her alley#because it's associated with deception. dishonesty. betrayal. and acting strategically#and it could also signify self-deception and confessions. which is all very true for her character#aaahh now i wanna make a tarot card design for her!#but that's an idea for another day#anyway sorry for sorta rambling a bit#i hope you all are doing okay
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mostofthingsmostofthetime · 5 months ago
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Just finished the show a few days ago, so that's why I'm only just posting this now.
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#also yes PB is problimatic but so are a lot of the other characters & i don't care#lady reinacorn would probably be higher in her category if i understood what she was saying but unfortunately i don't#tier list#adventure time#adventure time tier list#magic man is where he is because he became normal man otherwise he'd be in the last category#cinnamon bun is only where he is due to his character growth in the flame kingdom before that he would have been in the meh category#lsp is where she is coz i actually find her funny#hope tier 3 lemongrab is meant to be the 3rd version because I like him the best out of all the lemongrabs#sweet pea wasn't on there but i would probably put him before or after fern#root beer guy is only where he is because I like what they did with him when he got resurrected#speaking of which cherry sods should be on here to & if she was I'd probably place her before him#as her reaction to his death & resurrection was super interesting#just realised that starchy isn't on here either i think I'd place him before mr pig#on reflection I'd put the cosmic owl in the 3rd category after prismo#i haven't watched distant lands or fiona & cake yet so please no spoilers#tiffany is where he is because i find him funny even though he is always hating on my boy finn#upon reflection I actually find amo quite interesting (still annoying though)#with his desperate need to be loved without the ability to give it in return#& how no amount of affection would probably ever have been enough#like talk about depressing#on second thought i'd actually put Grob/Gob/Glob Grod in the cool powers but lack of personality category#ash actually belongs in the worst category coz how he gonna do my girl marcy like that#& Jake's alien dad should actually be in the crazy threat category#coz he straight up travels to different dimensions to make kids so he can drain them of their powers & then leave them to die#& wanted to do the same to his grandkids like that's some next level evil#recardio should really have is own category as while he is kind of threat (he did kidnap finn & jake & beat up lady that one time)#his just not scary like people in the crazy threat category are (more just creepy/weird/gross & annoying)
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actual-corpse · 2 months ago
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Im so tired of Nothingburger music!!!
#i say as a Beatles fan#bc The Beatles DEFINITELY have some Nothingburger songs#KISS has some Nothingburger songs too#like#my music taste is not definitive. it isnt the most correct#i just want some fucking variety on the fucking radio#THERES MORE POPULAR MUSIC!!! THERE'S MORE THAN 3 SONGS#most giant corporations HAVE THE LICENSING TO PLAY WHATEVER THE FUCK THEY WANT#There are THOUSANDS of chart toppers!! PLAY THEM#Everlong. Smells like teen spirit. Micheal Jackson? Single Ladies? I DONT FUCKING KNOW#and one more thing#dont trust modern country music#that shit is straight up Republican Propaganda... Im not fucking kidding#like... You dont even need a strong grasp on media literacy to understand the blatant messaging in 2020s country music#its really fucking weird ngl#theres a difference between down home values and booze from the early naughts and whatever tf is going on now#morgan wallen..... Big red flags from that guy... makes me feel sick#also#side note#Benson Boone needs to give up on his dreams.... Im 70% sure I've heard two different songs from the guy#but they both sound the same. no music difference. no vocal difference. just random crying like a bitch. go back to your day job babe#sad and sentimental lyrics does not an emotion make... like... bruh... Rap has more emotion than Boone's bitchass sqwaking#except rap is deep and meaningful so that comparison isnt fair#music isn't supposed to be boring... Music was always about communicating something somehow#but modern music has it all confused and screwed up and twisted in the pursuit of money#idk#i hate Benson Boone anf Morgan Wallen and if I ever meet them I'll consider breaking their fingers
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corkinavoid · 1 month ago
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DPxDC Danny the Guy Who Won't Die
He lives in Gotham, and he is just A Guy. Nothing weird about him, he's just there to study/work/help Lady Gotham to lift her curse/on vacation with Sam. Point is, he is not there to cause trouble and there's no GIW on his tail. Just a dude living his (after)life.
And Gotham, being Gotham, still finds a way to be annoying. There are mugging attempts, robbery, Rogues running around. Only Danny really doesn't want to deal with any of it.
Now there's a dilemma. If he uses his powers to fight, it will sooner or later come to Bats' attention. And if he fights as a human, it will also alert some of the Bats since he doesn't really do a great job at keeping his power levels low. Not to mention the fact he is really not enthusiastic about accidentally punching someone hard enough he sends them to a hospital.
What does he do instead? He pulls the 'I guess I'll die' act.
So every time he is attacked, he just plays dead. The mugger shot him in the chest? He falls down and stops breathing. Caught up in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack? Skewers himself on the vine and goes lax. Scarecrow's Fear Gas? Very dramatically chokes himself and plays a corpse. He makes sure to disappear before any ambulances arrive later, and it all goes well for a few months - he is just a casualty, who cares, really - until one day, he runs into that same mugger who shot him in the chest a while ago.
The man does a double take. Danny doesn't notice - he's been mugged so many times, who has the brain capacity to remember all of those fuckers. But the rumor goes out anyway.
A guy-who-won't-die. It's more of a city legend, really, and the Bats don't give it much thought since, well, it sounds stupid and not very important. A rumor of some man who was shot dead and then showed up like nothing happened? Yeah, it's probably because the mugger didn't check if he was actually dead. That happens. Maybe it wasn't even the same man, Gotham is a big city. If anything, hey, at least that was one less casualty? That's a good thing.
That is, until one day, they show up to Joker's hostage situation and witness the clown screaming at one of the hostages. He is so enraged he is shaking, spit flying out of his mouth, and, contrary to the usual Joker's evil sneers and maniacal laughter, he seems just... furious. But, like, the normal-human-level furious. The 'I just lost the last ounce of patience with you' furious.
"Don't you look away from me, you think I don't remember you?! Na-ah, I do. You were the one I drowned in the shark tank last week! And you were the one run through the chainsaw trap two weeks before that! And you were in the guillotine!!! I saw your fucking head get deattached from your body, how the fuck are you here again?!"
And the guy he is screaming at just looks at him, confused and incomprehensive.
"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting my head cut off, you know? So, err, wrong guy."
"Wrong guy my fucking ass-"
Joker is so distracted by his screaming match that it makes it almost too easy for the Bats to fight him down and drag to Arkham. Yet, a few of them get just a bit suspicious.
Now, imagine all the shenanigans when they try keeping a watch on Danny the Won't Die Guy.
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sistertotheknowitall · 8 months ago
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Some Guy Bingo
Masterpost.
Nearly three months into (what Jason called) The Haunting, the siblings kinda started a game. (“Either we're haunting him or he's haunting us, I haven't decided yet." "Considering he's the one appearing randomly, I'd say he's haunting us.")
Technically Tim had started it with, “five bucks says Danny went to class today.” (Gotham university was having an out break of fear toxin curtesy of Dr. Crane.) However, it was Jason who kicked it off with, “ten if he says something about actual scarecrows.”
Dick had snorted and said, “fifteen if it’s a personal experience about a farm.”
“I call bingo if he makes a vague statement on agriculture.” So it was actually Steph who started it.
“Bingo? We were placing bets.”
“Unlike you Hood, some people don’t get adopted by money.”
“As if Bruce doesn’t give you an allowance.”
(“As if he didn’t offer to adopt you,” Tim tacked on.)
It became a running joke where they started calling out "bingo if -" whenever they had to go out on a call. The joke had later formed into a running game when Danny had told Cass, “fighting gods is a pass-time, it is humanity that the real fight is against.” (He had trip over a curb and laid on the ground for several minutes before she asked if he was okay.) She said it wasn’t the most concerning thing he said to her and Steph chimed in claiming, “on a scale of one to ten that statement rates at a three.”
Jason had asked why Cass and Steph always got the weird ambiguous statements and he got cryptic shit about his “soul”.
(Damian had pointed out that at least he wasn’t being constantly referred to as a baby.)
I Call Bingo, which they still played whenever a situation required more than one of them, became “on a scale”
Dick was sure that “having given up on optimism, I find your enthusiasm to be overly bright” should be ranked higher then “I don’t like two-stepping but I’m from the mid-west, so do you know how to line dance?” (Danny and Duke had gotten into an awkward side step where they kept blocking each other.) Damian said the wording seemed passive-aggressive but the tone was too positive to be rude so he gave it a three. Jason said it sounded like a bad pick up line and gave it a two.
They often debated and defended the score they gave with Barbara chiming in over coms. She had never met Danny as Oracle but he was a regular at the public library. He was always polite and respectful and had quickly become one of her favorite patrons. Like Steph and Cass she also got odd statements but hers felt more like half-hearted jokes.
Bruce didn't always join in on their game but it wasn't surprising to see the occasional score placed in their reports. (They had a file dedicated to Danny's remarks. Originally it was to keep track of what they knew about him but at this point it was just to let the others know what he said this time.) Alfred was roped into it even if he didn't really participate unless asked. ("Hey Alfie, what would you give 'i'm glad i don't have to fight my food to eat it but if Batburger keeps giving me the wrong thing I'm summoning Lunch Lady.' Cause Tim says two but I think it's a five.") (He gave it a four.)
Post 4
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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months ago
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AITA for asking my boyfriend to wear lingerie?
Wow that sounds really fucking weird and this is weird but anyway
I (31M) am dating a guy (29M) and have been for about 4 years now, and we share an apartment. He's so beyond perfect and I am insanely lucky, and I'm planning on proposing to him this June.
Important to note that he is FTM. I am not, I'm very cis. He doesn't dress very masculinely, he likes dresses and skirts and stuff, which I like because he looks fucking hot in them and it makes him happy to dress like that. I haven't ever seen him wear ladies' underwear or anything like that before, only boxer briefs. I didn't really realize that till after this conflict though.
Lately I was in... a certain store for adults, picking up some undisclosed items, and noticed some lingerie that I thought would look really good on him. I ended up buying it as a gift.
When I showed it to him that night though his face just fell. He started tearing up and said he really didn't want to wear it and that he felt really insulted that I'd ask him to wear something like that. I apologized right off the bat, but I said was confused and I told him that he wears fem clothes the time. He told me that women's underwear made him feel really dysphoric and the lingerie had this thing, I forgot what he called it, but it basically makes the breasts more prominent like a wire or something (I grew up with two equally cis brothers and a mom who never talked about any of this so cut me some slack). He got top surgery years before he met me so I'm not sure what he's talking about.
Anyway. I apologized and put it back in the bag, told him I'd return it and I intend to. We ended up going to bed without having sex like we planned. He didn't touch me at all all night and didn't kiss me goodbye before he went to work the next morning.
I want to be very clear. I'm not trans, and I would never challenge him on what makes him dysphoric. But I do want him to explain what upsets him so I understand. I want to know what he's thinking so he doesn't just shut down on me.
One last thing. I know this is the drastic actions website but I don't want to see any of the "break up" comments or any sort of slander against my boyfriend. I love that boy and I am going to marry him if he'll have me.
Was I TA for getting him a gift? I wanted to surprise him but it did not turn out well. I would also appreciate any advice, especially from other trans guys. Thank you all.
What are these acronyms?
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mywritersmind · 16 days ago
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Fewtrell reader is staying over at Maxs and hes out and Lando comes over and asks “is he home?” and she offers to let him in and wait and the tension is HIGHHH (hes her childhood crush) and you can be creative from here. 🫣
FUCK WITH MY HEAD - LN4
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listen up : banter banter banter!! mentions of sex. ty for the request this like vibe is always in my mind (flirty bantery brothers best friend)
word count : 1061
⋆。‧˚⋆
I’m not even dressed yet, but the consistent knowing and ringing of the doorbell is driving me mad, “Whoever you are, you better have a good reason!” I yell at the unknown person as I yank open the door, only a towel wrapped around me. “Of course it’s you.”
“Wow, not even a hello? And I thought we were friends.” Lando Norris stands in front of me, holding his chest like I've hurt his heart. His eyes check out my towel situation before asking, “Your brother home?”
I practically groan in his face, walking away from the door, “You couldn’t have texted him!? He’s gone for another hour.” I say as I slam the door of the guest bedroom closed so I can change in peace.
I hear the front door shut, “Someone’s in a good mood today.” I mock him only for myself to see as I pull on white shorts and an oversized t-shirt.
I walk back out, breathing deeply and reminding myself that he can’t get to me if I don’t let him, “You’re sort of ruining my only time alone this week.” I’m visiting my brother and as much as I love the guy, he’s fucking obnoxious to live with.
“Had to listen to P and Max go at it, huh?” He leans over the counter, taking a crisp from my bowl.
I make a disgusted face at him, “You’re disgusting and you know for a fact I would be gone if that happened.”
“Wish I was spared from their sex life.” I roll my eyes and pour myself some water, “So… How’s your trip been?”
Small talk? Seriously weird coming from Lando.
“Why are you here anyways?” I don’t answer his question, he stands and joins me at my side, “You know that phone you have? It actually can message someone so you don’t randomly show up to their house!” I smile and blink at him.
He takes another crisp, “But then I wouldn’t be getting this lovely time with you.” I shake my head as I sip my water, pretending not to notice Lando’s eyes roam my body.
It’s a weird feeling to look back at your childhood crush in general; but when your childhood crush is your best friend's brother, famous, rich, and ridiculously attractive, it’s even worse.
Lando Norris was the object of my desire at thirteen and clearly I was onto something. He's dressed in a black shirt and jeans, sporting sneakers and a singular ring on his middle finger.
Still, like every historically accurate childhood crush, Lando never showed any interest. Until we hit our 20s and Lando learned how to flirt.
I don’t see him often, we would run into each other during breaks or holidays. I watch quadrant videos while I do my makeup or races while I pick out an outfit, but Lando hasn’t been this close to me in a while.
The last time we were like this was the beginning of last year. Like I said, we see each other for some holidays. I happened to be invited to his and Max’s new year’s party.
I also happened to be Lando’s new year's kiss. Maybe a bit more, but a lady never tells.
I fake sweetness, twirling my hair, “I’m honored! Lando Norris likes,” My voice goes dry and I walk away from him, “ruining my me time!”
I hear him chuckle as I sit on the couch with my food and phone, “You get sassier everytime I see you.”
I bite into my food, “As I should.”
“And hotter.” I’m paused with my food halfway in my mouth. What the fuck.
I take a breath, not daring to look back, “You shouldn’t say shit like that.”
“Why? I know you like it.” how is his voice attractive?
I turn around, he’s got a shit eating grin on his face, leaning back against the counter. “Max.” I say simply.
“Last time I checked,” He pushes off the counter, walking to the couch and looking down at me, “Max isn’t here.”
“You’re getting far too optimistic.” I look up at him, “Fame going to your head?”
“No I think it’s just you…” His gaze stays fixed on me, “In my head, I mean.” He does this shit too often. Gets in my head while boosting his confidence. I blush and he smirks, it’s a sick cycle that I can’t help but love.
His eyes are glued to mine, I narrow them, trying to figure out his aim here.
“Get in line.” I roll my eyes and turn back to my food and open my phone. I see him bite back a smile, jumping over the couch and laying face up.
He tilts his head back at me while I text my friend, “So… Uni. How many boyfriends have you got?”
I don’t look at him, “I’m currently dating my textbooks. Who has the time?”
“Alright, how many fuck buddies you got?” I eye him, all cute and upside down.
I put my phone down, “You really wanna know the truth?”
“Are my feelings gonna get hurt?”
I look away and he sits up, looking at me in that way I hate so much. It’s not even been twenty minutes and he’s already fucking with my head.
He scoots closer to me and I push my hand over his face to get him away, “You’re ridiculous. You know exactly what you’re doing.”
He doesn’t look away, he never seems to have an issue with eye contact when it comes to me, “What am I doing?” His tone is egging me on, “Go on. Tell me.”
I shake my head, “You’ve got that look in your eye… Like how you looked at me during new years.” The corner of his mouth lifts at the memory.
“Is that a bad thing?”
I sigh, what am I supposed to do? We never talked about it. Max could never know. And as attracted to him as I am, It will never happen again.
I tilt my head a bit, “What are you gonna Lando? Fuck me on my brothers couch?” I catch the slight blush on his cheeks, how his eyes flicker down.
Then he looks back up at me, but not meeting my eyes, his smile grows, “Seems like a pretty appealing offer right now.”
I groan and stand up, “I’m resuming my me time, try not to break anything.”
“You’re not slick, darling! Think of me when you touch yourself.” He blows me a kiss, I reply with my middle finger.
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pshaven · 1 year ago
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ᥫ᭡ shotgun!
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pairing! bsf!sunghoon x fem!reader x bsf!jake
wc! 5.6k+
cw! getting high, weed, shotgunning, oral (f & m receiving), face/throatfucking, p in v, if u squint there’s some plot, jake calls reader pretty/pretty girl, SWITCH SUNGHOOOONNN, softdom!jake to hard(?)dom! jake, WHINY SUNGHOON, kinda jealous n possessive jake nuanced, i think thats all lmk if i missed anything pls!
synopsis! when your best friend jake tells you about your cute new neighbor, sunghoon, you begin to take a liking to him and invite him to hang out. as the three of you begin to become closer, you make a realization that sunghoon is much more modest than you thought.
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The first time you meet Sunghoon was through Jake. It was only a mere pass by when Jake saw Sunghoon moving into the apartment room next to yours while visiting and he had just caught a glance of him before entering your apartment unannounced. “Yo, new guy moving in next to you.” Your ears perk up at his words. 
“What? The old lady finally moved out? Thank god, if I was going to get one more noise complaint from her I was about to get kicked out. How old is the new guy? Did you get a good look at him?” you bombard Jake with your curious questions as he gives you a mere shrug.
“About our age, I guess. He looks pretty young, but I dunno. Looks are deceiving. Like, you, for example,” he jokes with you, but you furrow your brows in confusion. Jake notices the confusion on your face, rolling his eyes. “I'm saying, the way you act doesn’t match the way you look.” 
The next day, curiosity gets the best of you and you want to know what the new neighbor of yours looks like. Purposefully leaving some leftovers from last night’s takeout with Jake, you knock on the door with the tupperware in your hands. He takes a while to open the door, and you think that maybe he wasn’t home and prepare yourself to leave in humiliation but the door suddenly swings open, and your mouth feels dry. 
“Hi?” Sunghoon says in a questioningly manner, head tilted to the side as you stare at him dumbfoundedly. He’s much cuter than you expected, and you curse Jake in your head for not telling you ahead of time that this guy is definitely your type. Jake, of all people, knows what your type is, and you assume he chose to not tell you on purpose so that you’d make a fool out of yourself. 
You blink, slowly extending the tupperware of leftovers towards him. “I, um, I’m your neighbor, live right across from you. I had these leftovers, and thought I’d introduce myself to you, but I didn’t have anything else to give you and I can’t come empty handed.” You thought he’d give you a weird look, because why in the world would you give him your leftovers? Not even some homemade cookies or something?, but instead he takes the tupperware out of your hands and gives you a slight bow to show his gratitude. 
“Cool, now I have something to eat for dinner other than instant ramen,” he says with a cheeky grin, and you think you might die; he’s so cute. The next thing you don’t expect is that he invites you in so that he could repay the favor, to which you insist that he really doesn’t have to, but who are you to deny a cute boy who wants you over at his place!
It’s 2:53am when you get back to your own apartment, and you immediately dial Jake to tell you about your time with the new guy, to which you have learned that his name is Sunghoon. Of course, when you call, Jake answers, so within two rings, despite it being in the middle of the night, he answers with a groggy “what’s up?” 
You're high on adrenaline because of your newly developed crush on your neighbor and spending, basically, half of the night with him talking. “Oh my gosh, you won’t believe what just happened!” Before Jake can even guess or say anything, you’re already explaining your night with Sunghoon and the conversations that you two had. Jake’s half listening, still blinking his eyes open from the deep sleep that was interrupted and also because he can’t ignore this bad feeling in his gut, he feels like he might be sick as you continue to laugh and giggle to yourself over something stupid Sunghoon said. But the sick feeling easily goes away because your voice soothes him, and he feels himself snooze back to sleep.
“Jake? Hello?” You check your volume on your phone to make sure that it was up, but then a soft snore ensures that your volume is up. You smile to yourself, laying down on your bed as you set your phone beside your pillow. “G’night Jake,” you say in a soft murmur, leaving the call to run until morning.
-
You’re convinced that Jake and Sunghoon would make great friends, but for some reason Jake is reluctant over meeting him, which you considered odd since Jake loves meeting new people. 
“But why not? I’ll come up with some excuse as to why we have to leave if you don’t like him! But I think that’s highly unlikely…” You try your best to egg him on, but he scrunches up his nose as if he was grimacing. You sigh, slipping off the couch and getting onto your knees, perfectly in between his manspread thighs as you plead with your hands interlaced together. 
Jake’s eyes widen, suddenly squirmish as he bursts out a “O-Okay Okay! I will meet Sunghoon, jeez.” Why are you so adamant on him meeting Sunghoon? 
-
You make a realization after Jake and Sunghoon’s first meeting– Jake’s a liar. 
“He’s alright,” Jake says with a mere shrug, acting all unbothered as if he didn’t just spend the last two hours laughing his ass off at Sunghoon’s silly dad jokes. “You only like him because you’re bored, you’re looking for entertainment.” You feign a hurt gasp, hand over your chest with exaggeration. 
“What? Nuh-uh!” You shove his chest, and he only grins at you. “You won’t leave me for him, right?” Jake asks with a sad pout, but you both know he’s just joking and totally not from his insecurities of losing you to your new neighbor. 
-
Despite Jake’s words, the three of you find yourselves constantly hanging out with each other, mostly in your apartment and then going out for some late dinner at a place that opens late. Jake has no real bite, all bark since he’s asking when’s the next time Sunghoon can come over and hang. You think he’s got the bad case of a friend crush.
“Look what I have~” Jake hums, holding up a ziploc baggie of greens, and you sigh as you shake your head. “You know we’re hanging out with Sunghoon tonight, right? We can’t.” You inform him, to which he responds with a pout as he sets the baggie down on your kitchen counter before flopping onto the couch with you, head on your lap as he sulks. 
“Stop being a big baby. We can tomorrow, if you want. Just not in front of Sunghoon,” you say, running a hand through his hair as you scroll mindlessly through Instagram reels. 
“What not in front of me?” A second voice comes in, followed by your front door being shut. Both yours and Jake’s heads pop up from the sudden intrusion. Sunghoon has a raised brow, setting down his coat on your island, next to Jake’s baggie. “What’s this?” He refers to the green, to which you grimace and Jake lets out a sheepish chuckle. 
“Nothin’, man! Come on, what are you craving for dinner? McDonalds?” Jake replies, standing up from the couch as he makes his way towards Sunghoon, reaching for the baggie before Sunghoon could question it any more. 
“We just had McDonalds yesterday. Plus, it’s Y/n’s turn to choose, anyway. What do ya want?” Sunghoon furrows his brows at Jake’s suspicious actions as he quickly swipes away the baggie and slips it into his back pocket. So much for subtlety.
You straighten out your clothes as you stand up, shrugging your shoulders as you join the two boys. “Mmm…kinda craving some pho. You two okay with that?” And of course they’re okay with that, they’ll agree to anything you say or want, because, it’s you.
“I call shotgun!” Jake shouts as you open your front door while Sunghoon grabs his keys from his pocket. You playfully pout, “No fair… you always get shotgun.”
“So, are you guys gonna tell me what you guys can’t do around me?” Sunghoon suddenly asks, setting his ice cream sundae from McDonald's aside (as if the three of you didn’t get McDonalds yesterday already). Both you and Jake give each other a quick glance, and you sigh because you feel bad leaving Sunghoon out of something as the three of you have gotten so close over the last few weeks. 
You reach over to the front passenger seat where Jake is sitting, digging your hand in his back pocket to find his baggie, to which he yelps in surprise at your hand coming in contact with his ass. “Hey! At least take me out to dinner first,” Jake frowns, and you roll your eyes. “We just had dinner, stupid,” you retort. 
You hold the baggie of greens up to show Sunghoon, “It’s weed,” to put it simply. He slowly nods, as if he’s understanding a math problem but his furrowed brows and curious eyes tell you that he has more questions. 
“I’ve never seen it in real life before,” he muses, more to himself than to either you or Jake, but you and Jake give each other another glance of silent communication. You open up the bag, interrupting Sunghoon’s little trance. “You wanna try?” You ask.
Sunghoon has his suspicions, but he can’t deny that he’s insanely curious and wants to know what it feels like. And, well, if you do it, he’ll do it. “I’ll take it with you,” You reassure him, and Jake is quick to add on a “me too!” 
He slowly nods, shuffling in his driver's seat as he turns more to look at you in the backseat. “C-can, um, you guys do it first?” He’s stumbling over his words because he’s nervous, he’s never done anything like this before and has only seen weed on the news. You nod, handing over the bag to Jake to let him prep (because you’re lazy and you’re also his princess). 
Jake glides his tongue on the edge of the wrap before sealing it, handing it over to you first. You take it with gratitude, putting the tip of it in your mouth and Jake brings a lighter up to the blunt, hand covering the light to ensure that it stays lit up. He pats your cheek lightly before you take a deep inhale, blowing it in Jake’s direction that is followed by a laugh. 
“Wow, I roll and light it up for you and this is how you treat me? I’m offended, really.” Jake’s voice laced with sarcasm before snatching it out of your hands and taking an inhale himself. After he’s finished, blowing the smoke towards the dashboard as he’s trying to avoid directly blowing it towards Sunghoon, who has his nose scrunched up. 
“It smells really strong,” He mumbles with a slight frown, and you grin at him. “We can roll down the windows, if you want…” You hum, leaning closer towards his seat, “But it feels better with the windows up,” you lower your voice, popping the ‘P’ at the end. His frown turns into confusion at your words, but he chooses not to question you. 
“Do you guys feel it already?” He asks, eyes staring at the blunt in Jake’s hand. You both shake your head. “Nah, only one hit won’t do it for us. But for you, it will,” Jake informs, and Sunghoon hums in thought. “Then, can you guys keep going until you feel it? I don’t really wanna be the first one to be…um, high…”
You both nod, you and Jake taking multiple turns with the blunt before you start to feel it hitting. You lean your head against Sunghoon’s seat, staring at Jake as he takes a hit, his eyes starting to get a little red as he stares at you back. Sunghoon clears his throat, is he interrupting something?, “Are…are you guys feeling it now? Are you guys okay?” He asks, only concerned for his two friends.
You both nod slowly, silly grins on your features as Jake gestures to Sunghoon the blunt. “You still wanna take it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to…” He says, reassuring but his voice is dropped down an octave from the weed.  Sunghoon gives a firm nod, he wants to, and plus, not like anything bad will happen. 
Sunghoon takes the blunt out of Jake’s hand, holding it up towards his lips but you reach for his hand before he could do anything else. “Noo! Other side, Hoonie,” you help him flip the blunt around, and he nods and puts it between his lips. He looks at both you and Jake for reassurance, and you both give him a lazy smile and a thumbs up. He takes a deep breath in, trying to hold it in for as long as you did the first time, before letting out a few coughs in vain. You frown, rubbing his back in comfort as he recovers. “You okay, Hoonie?” You ask, and he nods, eyes still examining the blunt in his hands before he decides to put it between his lips again to take another hit. You and Jake exchange yet another glance, but Jake has a fair share of taking care of high people while being high himself, so what’s another?
Taking in a shorter inhale, he successfully blows it out before handing it to you. Jake giggles a bit at Sunghoon’s expression, seeing him already a bit dazed out as he leans his head against the headrest. “You like it?” Jake asks, in which Sunghoon responds with a lazy nod and a thumbs up. The three of you go into a fit of laughter over nothing, sharing the blunt between the three of you until it’s finished. 
“O-M-G, Y/n and Jake, you guys basically kissed. ‘Cuz you two shared the same blunt!” Sunghoon exclaims in realization, fingers pointing at the two of you. You give him a raised brow and a small laugh, “Well, then that means we kissed too, Sunghoon. We also shared the blunt.” Jake interrupts with a gasp, then a fake gag, “Eww! That means Sunghoon and I kissed too! Bro, no offense, but gross.”
Sunghoon pouts at Jake before turning his attention back on you, hands reaching for your sweater and tugging on the sleeve, “Y/n. Which one of us is the better kisser? Me or Jake? You hafta be honest!” Jake scoffs at this before reaching for your other sleeve, also tugging on it with more force so that you’ll pay more attention to him. “Obviously, me. I real kissed her!” He announces proudly. 
You cringe as Sunghoon’s face twists into confusion. “Huh? What do you mean, ‘real’ kissed her?” He asks while looking at you, a cute, pouty frown appearing on his features. You sigh, “It was just a weird, ‘heat of the moment’ thing… It was so long ago, really! And we swore to not speak of it again,” your last sentence laced with venom as you give Jake a look, where he only gave a sheepish shrug in reply. 
“Fine, then. Guess I’ll have to make it even myself.” Sunghoon says quickly, giving you no time to react before you feel his unfamiliar lips on yours, but within seconds it starts to feel natural and the two of you mold together and exchange lazy and wet kisses. 
Sunghoon has a different way of kissing than what you’re normally used to; he’s more deliberate– his kisses are with purpose and he likes to add sharp bites (all thanks to his fangs that you like to fantasize about in your free time) to your bottom lip. You make a muffled noise, a mix between a moan and a whine and both boys can feel both of their pants tighten.
Jake is quick to recline his seat all the way back, fondling with the bottom hem of your sweater, his other hand palming himself through his sweats. “Not fair, you’re hogging her!” He complains, grabbing the bottom of your chin, interrupting your kiss with Sunghoon as he guides you to meet his lips, your head dipping down.
“Looks like you’re getting my sloppy seconds,” Sunghoon teases while his hands are discovering your thighs, roaming every part until he gets to your shorts– flimsy and of thin cloth material that makes Sunghoon grin from ear to ear. 
Jake’s too busy eating your face off to retort back, guiding your hand to palm over his pants, leading to him moaning into your mouth. “Lucky me, I like getting a little messy,” Jake replies when you both part to catch your breath. You whine impatiently at Sunghoon’s teasing fingers that are so close to where you need him. “Pretty girl…” Jake hums as he cups your cheek in such a loving manner that makes you think you’ve done it with him before (maybe you did, maybe you didn’t), “Use your words for him,” he says, nuzzling your cheek as he begins to pepper kisses.
You pout, eyes darting over to Sunghoon who’s already looking at you with hooded eyes, “Need you to tell me where you want me.” You immediately feel yourself break at his tone of voice; it’s so needy, you think he might start begging if you don’t say or do anything in the next minute. You nod quickly, “Here, want you here,” you gasp, grabbing his hand and guiding it over your clothed cunt, and you hear a swift curse leave Sunghoon’s lips.
But he pauses for a moment, and you try to buck your hips in a weak attempt for any friction possible and Jake notices. He chuckles a bit, still leaving wet kisses along your neck, “What? Don’t know what to do? ‘S okay, Hoon. I’ll teach you.” Sunghoon seems to frown a bit at Jake’s cocky words, but if he’s upset he doesn’t say anything and instead retracts his hand to give Jake’s hand room in between your legs. 
Jake pulls away from your neck to intently look at your facial expressions as his index finger rubs light circles on your clothed cunt as if experimenting. “Jakeee,” you whine, lower lip pouting exaggeratedly and he plays with your hair with his other hand. “I know you missed me down here, pretty thing. I got ya,” Jake muses, hand suddenly dipping past your panties and finding your clit immediately which causes you to squeal in surprise, hand shooting to grab at his forearm. 
“Heyyy~” Jake chuckles, “You’re the one who asked so nicely, why’re you declining now?” He jokes teasingly as his fingers prod at your hole, index finger slowly inserting inside you. You gasp, eyes shutting close as you feel the high start to wear off, suddenly getting a bit embarrassed. “Nuh-uh, eyes open. Look at Sunghoon, make sure he’s looking and learning,” Jake says as he pats your cheek softly and your eyes open in response, glossed eyes looking over at Sunghoon whose own eyes are darting between your face and where Jake’s hand is in between your legs. 
“Take it off,” Sunghoon suddenly says in an impatient manner, and both you and Jake look at him in a bit of shock. “I can’t see,” he says like a baby who can’t see the fireworks on the fourth of July, but you obey anyway as you quickly kick off your flimsy shorts and panties onto the seat next to you. “So pretty,” is the next thing Sunghoon says as if he’s in a trance, and Jake only worsens it by spreading your pussy lips, and you swear you can see your wetness shine in the reflection of Sunghoon’s rearview mirror. 
“It is, isn’t it? Wanna taste?” Jake promptly asks, and Sunghoon is quick to nod like he’s stuck on autopilot. You almost want to giggle, he’s like a lost puppy who wants to experience everything. Jake nods, and he pats your thigh before patting his own, motioning for you to lay on his lap. You climb your way to the front, and once you reach Jake’s lap, he’s quick to manhandle you to lay sideways on his lap so that your cunt is on full display for Sunghoon. You yelp in surprise, taken aback by the sudden four hands that latch onto your body– Sunghoon’s on your thighs and Jake’s going up your stomach to fondle with your breasts. 
“Don’t be shy, Y/nnie. You know how to guide him, like you did for me before, right?” Jake taunts you, and your facial expression turns meek as you nod slightly, hands reaching for Sunghoon’s hair and slowly guiding his head down to meet with your pussy. “Just–” You start, but Jake interrupts you with a pinch of your nipples, “Just pretend like you’re making out with me, but it’s my cunt instead…” Your breath staggers a bit as Jake begins to play more rough, but you manage to give Sunghoon a small, reassuring smile before he dips down. 
You soon realize that Sunghoon’s definition of “making out with your cunt” is different from Jake’s. The boy between your legs presses a soft kiss to your clit, then a little kitten lick, and what catches you off guard is how his tongue is suddenly in between your slit, lapping as if he’s searching for something. You immediately gasp, your hand originally resting on his head now turning into a fist. “Sh-shit!” 
Jake’s always been more messy, with no technique or tactic but it’s so sloppy it still feels amazing, but Sunghoon goes in like he has an objective— to make you cum. His tongue does wonders in your entrance, and your pussy definitely responds back to him as your wetness continuously leaks down your thighs. “Taste good, Hoon?” Jake asks, but Sunghoon can’t even respond with words, he just nods against your cunt like an eager puppy. 
“F-fuck—!” Your moans getting interrupted by none other than Jake, his lips meeting yours but you don’t expect the cloud of smoke to enter your mouth. Your eyes blink up at him, seeing a freshly rolled blunt in his free hand. When did he even roll that?! But you’re not one to complain, the effects of the smoke only heightening your pleasure. 
You whine and beg, for both Sunghoon to not stop and for Jake to keep shotgunning for you, to which he complies because it’s just another excuse to keep kissing you without looking too selfish. You moan into Jake’s mouth for the nth time, Jake pulling away as he uses his other hand to reach down, finding your clit. 
“Time to make you cum, pretty,” Jake hums, his index and middle finger rubbing deliberate circles as Sunghoon’s tongue works inside of you, drinking in all of your juices. You think Sunghoon might be enjoying this more than you, with him moaning and groaning into your entrance nonstop. 
With the sudden intrusion of Sunghoon’s fingers replacing his tongue, you whine and gasp, free hand reaching down between your legs to grip on Sunghoon’s wrist tightly as if trying to pull him away but he’s a lot more resilient, fingers only speeding up. You look at him, seeing your wetness glistening on his face as he looks at you with such determination and admiration in his eyes, and you break. 
“Oh my—Fuck! I’m cum—nng!” You moan aloud, legs beginning to shake as both Jake and Sunghoon help you ride out your high, eyes shutting as you try to catch your breath. Jake is first to caress your sides soothingly, thumb rubbing tenderly on your stomach. “You alright?” He asks, and you nod with a dopey smile on your face. 
“More than alright… gimme another hit,” you mumble, referring to the blunt in Jake’s hand. He hands it to you as you begin to sit up on Jake’s lap, him stifling back a moan as you shift around on his hard on. You inhale from the lit up stick, glancing at Sunghoon who seems to be a bit dazed out, honestly probably already pussy drunk. You reach for his face, both hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him in for a shotgun. 
His surprised whine is muffled by your tongue slipping in, and he’s quick to reciprocate the deep kiss while Jake decides to travel his hands down the small of your back. “Can I…” Jake trails off, but you already know he’s gesturing to your wet cunt. You shake your head against Sunghoon before pulling away, “So selfish. You get my mouth, you’ve already had my pussy before.” 
Jake can’t even get a whine of complaint out before you’re pulling down at his pants, laying sideways across the console. A bit uncomfortable, but you’re sure you’ll be far too distracted to consider comfort as your first worry. He lifts his hips up to help you, hard cock leaking pre on his boxers. You grin up at him as you lean close, giving a quick lick at the wet spot to which he shudders, hand finding its way into your hair. “Suck or I’ll make it difficult for you to breathe,” Jake grumbles impatiently, slipping his boxers halfway down his thighs as his free hand takes hold of his cock to smother the tip all over your lips. 
Sunghoon is also quick at work with you, shifting his seat a bit more back so that he has more room. He grabs hold of your thighs like before when he was eating you out, quickly undoing his own bottoms. He takes his cock out, tip nudging at your entrance but he’s unintentionally teasing you– his tip prodding at your hole that’s begging to be filled and to your clit that is throbbing with need. 
You groan, swatting Jake’s hand away from the base of his cock to replace it with your own, “Please, inside, now! Need it!” You beg, playfully lifting your ass up a bit before Jake’s cock enters your hot mouth. He gasps in surprise, the hand in your hair tightening as he grabs clumps of hair at your scalp. “Shit–” He moans, head thrown back on the carseat, “Put it in, Hoon. What’re ya waitin’ for?” He mutters, but it doesn’t go unheard by the boy as you feel him start to enter your wet cunt, causing you to suck harder on Jake’s dick as a reward for encouraging Sunghoon. 
“Oh…Oh my–Fuck!” Sunghoon swears, the grip on your hips and ass is tight enough to leave bruises until the next morning, as he’s bottoming out on you. You moan around Jake’s cock at the stretch, shaking your ass a bit to tease Sunghoon but the fingernails digging at your hips are telling you it’s a bit too much for him. “S-stop… shit. I think…” He sighs, breath heavy as he’s panting, “I need a moment…” 
You giggle a bit at him but let him recollect himself, enjoying the warmth of his length inside of you. But the sudden thrust of Jake’s cock in your mouth catches back your attention. “Don’t lose focus on me, now, pretty. Didn’t I say suck? Or do you just not want to breathe?” His brow raises in question, but you think Jake wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you so you disobey, your mouth and tongue staying still with his cock still resting inside. 
“So cute,” he mumbles, and your eyes crinkle a bit in a smile but it’s soon replaced with wide eyes of shock when his hand tightens his grip on your hair, cock now repeatedly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your gasps and whines are muffled, spit now drooling at the corner of your mouths and down onto his dick that only makes Jake’s cock twitch at the sloppiness. “Fuck, you really are so cute, aren’t you?” 
You begin to feel shallow thrusts of Sunghoon’s cock inside; it's slow and short like he’s testing the waters. He pulls out until his tip only remains, seeing your juices glisten on the veins of his cock. He swears underneath his breath before bottoming out in one swift thrust, causing you to lurch forward and choke on Jake. 
“My god—“ Jake hisses, eyes darting over to Sunghoon for a moment, “Do that again.” And like the obedient puppy he is, Sunghoon complies and pulls out all the way til his tip before going back in particularly hard, your mouth going deeper on Jake’s when you swear you can feel Sunghoon in your stomach. 
“Feels so—so good,” Sunghoon moans out, feeling the way you clench around him at his whiney words. His thrusts become more quick but he still manages to feel so deep inside of you. You moan wantonly around Jake, hips becoming impatient as you begin to thrust back onto Sunghoon to chase your orgasm. 
Jake’s hips don’t stop either from thrusting in and out of your mouth, his lap now all messy from your spit and drool. “You’re so pretty, just for us, yeah? Shit—“ Jake groans when he feels your throat contract around him, “Can’t hold back, g’na cum—hnng!” He holds your head steadily around his cock, thumb rubbing your cheek soothingly as he moans out your name. 
He finally releases you, his hand still cupping your chin as he forces your jaw open to see his cum pooling inside your mouth. “Shit, so hot,” he mumbles before closing your mouth, patting the side of your cheek to signal you to swallow. You do so, your throat hurts a bit from the facefuck but you feel already more than satisfied. 
You paw at Jake’s chest, and he understands when he pulls you into a sweet kiss, swallowing each and every moan that Sunghoon elicits out of you from behind, a bit too possessively, you would think if you weren’t fucked out of your mind. 
“H-hoon…” You whine when Jake gives you time to breathe from your kiss. Sunghoon is already holding back from cumming so soon, his thrusts already getting a bit sloppy and his fingernails digging deep into your sides. “Ye—“ He gets cut off by his own shivers, “Yeah?” 
“You- you can c-cum,” You try to tell him, voice going broken at the force of his thrusts, like he’s on a mission but you can tell he’s holding back. He gasps at your words, as if you had just given him permission to enter the gates of heaven. “Wh-what about you?” He asks, but his thrusts are already speeding up and going harder despite his concern for you. 
“I’ll cum with you,” You say, looking up at Jake to silently ask for his help to make you cum, and he’s quick to respond as his hand snakes its way down your stomach to play with your clit while Sunghoon pounds needily into you. Your moans get louder with both the stimulation from Jake’s fingers playing with you and being filled by Sunghoon. 
“Y/n.. I’m sorry—Ca-can’t take it, need to cum n-now—“ Sunghoon gasps in a loud whine, his hips now glued to your ass as he comes inside, his body losing control as he slumps over yours, his moans fanning your neck that gives you shivers. “F-fuck! Oh my godddd, shit, Jake!” You squeal, Jake’s fingers unrelenting on your clit as he rubs faster and even gives a few slaps to your pussy  that catch you off guard. 
“W-wait!” Sunghoon exclaims breathlessly, your pussy contracting around his cock as your orgasm approaches you quickly, your hips starting to buck against Jake’s hand but unintentionally stimulating Sunghoon’s already overstimulated cock inside of you. 
You lift your head up a bit to look at Sunghoon, his sweaty forehead and furrowed brows are too cute and too hot to resist kissing him. Your hands grip onto Jake’s arm as you cum hard all over Sunghoon’s cock, moaning into his mouth through your kiss that he can barely reciprocate from being too exhausted. 
Sunghoon eventually pulls away from you, out of breath as his chest heaves up and down when he leans back against the car window. You think you hear Jake growl from behind you, but you’re quickly distracted when he pulls you into another kiss with him, hand wrapping gently around your throat as he makes out with you sloppily. 
You pull away when you feel Sunghoon shift a bit inside you, his dick beginning to soften. “Um, you can pull out, now…” You tell him softly like he’ll be hurt by it but he nods, a tense look on his face that makes you question what’s wrong. “Well, I w-would but, I feel too sensitive…” Sunghoon mumbles shyly, eyes trained on your entrance where his dick is still trapped inside. 
You giggle, and despite your whole body feeling wobbly, you manage to sit up and let his cock slide out of you with ease, his cum now drooling out of your entrance, causing Sunghoon to hiss. “Was it too much?” You ask him, and Sunghoon’s attention from his overly sensitive dick is now on you from your question. “Wh-what? No, not at all… it was really good…” he answers you, eyes determined to portray his reassurance that he’s alright. 
“Good! Then next time, you two can switch,” You grin, to which the boys both exchange confused glances before looking back at you. “Switch… switch what?” Jake asks you, a brow raised as his hand absentmindedly rubs up and down your arm. 
“Don’t think you’re so subtle with your jealousy, Jaeyun~” Your tone laced in a hum, hand reaching up to ruffle up his hair. His jaw goes agape for a second, before his mouth is running with excuses for his previous actions. Sunghoon snickers at Jake, “Aw, didn’t know you were jealous of me, Jakey-poo.” 
Jake gives him a death stare, which could probably last the whole car ride back home if you didn’t do something about it. “You are both so cute,” you pout as you admire the both of them, and they turn their heads to you like puppies, “Now why don’t you both just kiss and makeup, hm?” 
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elodieunderglass · 6 days ago
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I'm not as familiar with LOTR as you are, so I wondered if you could tell me if my wild theory is completely off-base.
No one knows where the Hobbits came from, except that at some point they diverged from the line of men. No one knows much about the Entwives' appearance, but we do know that they fucked off a long time ago.
Could the Entwives have been dryad-ish and hooked up with the hobbits' ancestors and so be the foremothers of the hobbits?
Ah I think I saw that post! The concept has a lot of charm, and when the Tolkien estate loses its corpse-grip on the property in 2050 or so, I think you should write it and sell it 😤 I’ve definitely read some good takes on entwives in fanfiction that both leaned into canon and moved away, and I think that sounds like good fun to explore. A common theme in the fandom is playing with Yavanna, the Green Lady, being the mother or patron of hobbits. This isn’t canonical, but she’s a “green goddess” archetype and is married to Mahal/Aulë, the father of dwarves, which shippers often leverage to their advantage. You could do something quite charming there with Yavanna if you wanted to. We also know that Entwives loved gardens and orchards rather than forests.
Some things I would explore with this include:
what is going on with all these consistent ideas of people, races, women disappearing. We know that a lot of it is how Tolkien processed an almost OCD-like Catholic framing of “the fallen world is getting worse and can never be repaired”, war experiences, romanticism and other stuff stewing in his old man head. What are some ways you could show what’s stewing in your head? What does “people disappearing” mean to you? and why is it especially healing that they disappeared in order to make new families?
I think “they disappeared from their old kin and made new kin” is an interesting and weird thing worth wondering about!
- this would possibly make hobbits a more recent race than is implied. What does that mean to you?
- why are hobbits teeny tiny?
A very good starting point, that Terry Pratchett used a lot, is taking some grand statement in fantasy fiction, and making it reflect a different political reality. “Most dwarves are girls actually.” “Wizards parody academia, but, like, FOR REAL.”
I personally have a different take because of my own political feelings and framings! I have a lot of complex feelings about Tolkien chickening out of hobbits. For various political reasons I personally have to take the stance that they are fully human, fully indigenous, and have their own native language. and that their disappearance is less “teehee we lost them” or “O, the Catholic guilt of the Fallen World, how far we have fallen from the light of the two trees God’s sinless light” and a lot more “oh yeah I’ve seen THAT pattern before.”
If you have a political sort of lens on, someone telling you “yeah… hobbits came from nowhere 🤭 and then disappeared 🤷‍♀️ sad!” is a story that can also invite the response of “OHhhhh you wanted their LAND real bad, huh.” Like, we know what that means, right.
It’s a political stance for me. Hobbits have to be close enough to us to touch, and we have to be able to face that, and the fact that 5,000 media properties will chew on tolkienelves and sell them to you before even admitting to the 🤭 just makes it even more of a 🤨. To me.
…But I have literally just been elbow deep in my own demented fanfic thing that involves inventing a language just to swear in, to enable my standing on a box shouting HOBBITS OUGHT TO RESIST GOING EXTINCT ACTUALLY, based entirely on, I think, spite. Why do multiple authors publish orc football games (Terry Pratchett) and orc coffeeshops (Legends and Lattes guy) and do every damned thing with every bit of Tolkien’s corpse but refuse to look directly at hobbits. I am feral over this and wrote 59k words so far to damage and harm my friends
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In conclusion I see a great story shape there about kindred and I think you should explore it and it should be about evolutionary biology and women and divorce and nobody being wrong.
And if anyone argues you with some podcast boy “well actually”, just bite them and do more character work and sit on their heads
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eff4freddie · 6 months ago
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Joel Miller AU x Javier Pena x AFAB Reader/You
Word count: 9k
Joel takes a second job at the local strip club, hoping to cover Sarah's fees for her fancy new private school. He just has to make sure no one's gettin' too rowdy, and watch out for the girls. It would be really simple. If it weren't for you.
Warnings: porn with plot, this is a Joel Miller story but it's about a strip club so obviously Javi is there, reader is a stripper, no shame get your dollars ladies, MMF, Oral (f receiving), slow burn then smut, also a couple of other cameos, reader has limited physical descriptions other than in reference to her lady parts, this is really filthy even for me, pining while Joel really trying to hang on to some semblance of morals, Javi says maybe two words? Explicit. Minors DNI.
He thought his hearing was bad before he took the job, that years of construction work; drilling, hammering, screaming at Tommy for fucking up the A-frame, would be the thing that robbed him of one of his more essential senses. But it turned out it wasn’t that, it was the incessant bass, the thrum of the sub-woofer reverberating around his skull. The way he felt it jolt his spine, Mikey the DJ hell-bent on obliterating the patron’s ability to think straight with sound alone, as if the watered down booze wasn’t toxic enough to cloud their judgement.
But Sarah needed to go to the fancy school, the one with the uniforms and the shiny brochures, and he hadn’t figured it would be all that mentally taxing. He could do without the late nights at his age, but he got paid after-hours rates to basically walk around and look menacing, and only once or twice a night did he have to actually step in and boot a guy. Sarah had just joined the debate team. Like she needed any help with arguin’.
He'd only told a handful of friends, Tommy so that he knew if he was late to a job it wasn’t because he was on a bender but just because he was working late, a couple of the guys at poker night because he thought they might get a kick out of it. They had, immediately asking him to get them in without the cover charge. He’d refused, but in a good-natured way, and so far they’d steered clear of the place.
He wasn’t sure why he was shy about it, if that’s what it was. Giving the air of authority, trying to be respectful while the girls did their work. He mostly ignored the stage, felt his cheeks burn if he happened to look up to see a girl bent over, thong waving in a guy’s face. He scanned the floor, walked the halls outside the privates, kept his eye on the clock and the bar, waited for his break so he could take a load off and get away from the kick drum assaulting his temples.
The guys kept telling him he’d won the lottery, lucked out on a dream job. And he would agree, except for you.
He’d met you on his third shift, right when he was allowed to walk the floor without a supervisor. He was already learning how to read the floor, how to pick up on cues from the girls that a guy was trouble, was figuring out that just standing with a scowl on his face and his black shirt on in a darkened room was often times enough to keep a blowhard in line. He was getting used to the girls tipping him at the end of a shift, although it felt weird to take their money when he’d just seen how they made it. He was getting used to the dull ache in his knees, in the soles of his feet, reminding himself not to complain when he saw the six-inch plastic heels the girls traded in.
He was learning that each girl picked their music, that often times the songs they chose reflected their dance personas, the girls dancing to pop songs going for the cutesy vibe, the girls dancing to heavy guitar riffs and shouty lyrics dressed up in black and red lace, dangerous and menacing. He was getting used to the way the room shifted in response to whatever was going on stage, was noticing he needed to pay more attention when the younger-looking girls, the blondes in pigtails, took to the stage.
He felt the room go quiet, a kind of hush when your name was called. The shift was enough to make him pause, mid-stride, moving his gaze from a man trying to buy a drink for a girl he suspected was under 21, to the stage. The heavy bass hit him in the chest, the stage lights purple and red, when you emerged, thigh first, from behind the tatty little red curtain. You were all hips and cleavage, all gentle curves and smooth lines, skin glowing and buttery soft under the stage lights. You moved slowly, your hands ghosting over your breasts, as you made eye contact with every patron in the room, your red painted lips curling into a knowing smile as you regarded them, as you took purchase of them, as you measured them and found them all wanting. You were selecting your prey, he could see it in your eyes, and he was fully prepared for your gaze to skip over him, to see his outfit of black and his number around his neck and know that he was a non-starter, except that as soon as your eyes landed on him they stared there, and he could swear you added an extra little wiggle in your hips for him, an exaggerated dip as you held the pole to you and swivelled around it, as you winked at him, fucking winked right there in public like it wasn’t the most obscene thing you could have done in this environment, and he felt it then, that the two of you were in it together, that you had let him in on the grift, that if you were his Bonnie he would do everything he could to be your Clyde.
He turned as you got busy, gave you the privacy he felt you deserved as you shimmied your skirt down, and he found he had no idea where to look now, had forgotten his rotation, had been thrown completely from his rounds. He wanted a shot of hard whiskey, the proper shit that they kept for the high-rollers, he wanted to go out the back to the employee bathroom and dunk his head into the sink. He wanted to march up that stage and pull you off it, bundle you into his car and disappear with you into the night, his fingers nestled in your wet, wanting cunt as he drove, claiming it back from all the men you’d ever shown it to.
He balled up his fist, wondering what exactly had just fuckin’ happened to him, lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye he could see you revolving around the pole, your legs curling into the air in front of you so that, if he were to look, he would get a perfect view of Eden between your thighs.
He figured he should check the back room. It had probably been a while since anyone had.
--
You weren’t there every night. From askin’ around, none too subtly he suspected, he’d learned you were studying your master’s degree, taking classes in the daytime then coming by to work some shifts. You’d been there for a while, degrees are long and hard to get, and you mostly kept to yourself. Sometimes on slow nights you read your textbook in the dressing room until someone dropping cash came by. He felt his pulse quicken at this, at the earnestness of it, the innocence in it, and he resolved then that it would go no further. He would stop. He wouldn’t check the roster to see which nights you were working, wouldn’t watch the back door until he saw you appear, bundled up in a winter jacket and a heavy bag over your shoulder, in sneakers and jeans and somehow all the sexier for it, wouldn’t make shitty mistakes on the job site because he was distracted, waiting for your next shift to roll around, wouldn’t stalk the floor sullen and moody on the nights you weren’t in. He would do none of that, because he was too old for a schoolboy crush, because you were both working professionals, colleagues even, because it could never go anywhere without some sort of destruction, because Sarah was doing so damn well in her new school.
He watched out for you. That was his job, to watch out for all the girls. He watched out for you when you started to approach a guy who was already four drinks deep and threatening to get handsy, stepping in before you got to him to redirect him to a glass of water, then the door. He watched out for you when another girl got too drunk or too high and started causing a scene right beside where you were standing at the bar, pulling her away gently by the biceps before she could shatter a bottle and ricochet any glass into your general direction. He watched your back when you were in the privates, kept a respectable distance outside the open doorway, the little U-shaped couches meaning often times all he could see were the guy’s legs, sometimes the cream of your thighs as they dangled over his, the curve of your calf easing into the point of your heel. He watched out for you as you retreated to the dressing room for a break, kept an eye on the door to make sure no patrons tried to slip in while you were resting. He steered clear of the dressing room itself. That was your private space, you and all the girls. He had a little office back there, but he would just make sure to take everything he needed with him at the start of his shift, take his breaks in the back room amongst the toilet rolls and broken sound equipment.
He watched out for you when he wouldn’t let you tip him, figuring you needed it for school, gently pushing your hand away when you tried to pass him a twenty at the end of every shift.
--
Sunday nights were dead.  Most of the girls never worked it, preferring instead the busier nights, the bucks’ parties and the bigger crowds. There was only a small subset of girls who worked the Sundays, the ones who tended to have regulars come in to visit them, the ones who liked the chilled-out vibe a little more, who used the downtime to practice new tricks on the pole or discuss hair removal and boob jobs right there on the floor. Those were the nights when he felt everyone was a little more themselves, that the grift was a little lesser, when the patrons were generally more well behaved so the girls could let their guards down. No one felt like getting up to all that much bullshit on a Sunday.
But his feet didn’t know any of that, protesting all the same despite the more relaxed vibes, and he was hovering behind one of the booths on the floor resting his hip on it to ease the pressure off one foot for a moment, before shifting his weight to the other. This little method meant he could stay standing, more or less in the same position, for sometimes up to an hour. But on the quiet nights, with so many empty booths around, it was all the harder to resist just sinking down into the cushions and stopping the blood pooling in his shoes.
Candy Jane was on stage, shifting her hips without much conviction, a couple of regulars already with their girls. He could see you, propped up in a corner booth, your eyes on the stage but unmoving. He thought you looked tired, wondered if your feet were hurting as much as his were, and he thought long and hard about sliding in beside you, pulling you into his lap and nudging your head onto his shoulder.
You looked up, then, swivelling your eyes to him and he felt his stomach drop. He was about to start another round of the privates just for something to do but you were getting up on your feet, strolling over to him, the singles and twenties strapped to your thigh by your garter.
‘Joel,’ you said, grabbing his hand and pushing him into a booth behind him. ‘Come sit by me, I’m bored.’
He had seen you flirt with the patrons, a kind of hyper-sexualised bunny thing that promised them every sexual desire they could ask for without ever actually delivering, the art of the tease so acute in you that none of them seemed to even realise they’d been played. He marvelled at that, always kind of admired it, at the street smarts of the girls extracting money from the men who thought they had any power in the situation. He looked at you now, sitting an arm’s length away from him, and felt almost entirely under your spell.
‘Not s’posed to sit on the floor when I’m workin,’ he said, almost apologetic, and you shrugged your shoulders at him.
‘It’s dead, Joel-y,’ you said, and you weren’t flirting with him now, you were just yourself, and he liked you all the better this way, all the more for the earnestness of you, for this version of you none of the other men ever got to see.
‘Just don’t be offended if I have’ta get up and leave quick,’ he said, and you smiled at him.
‘I don’t think you could ever do anything offensive,’ you said, and you were kind of teasing him but also really meant it, and you watched him blush, shifting his body in his chair to face a little further from the stage. ‘Why don’t you watch?’ you asked, rolling your ankles and feeling the tendons stretch. You were hoping your regular would show up soon so you could finally earn something, the house fee already putting you in the red.
‘S’not right to watch, not here for my…jollies,’ he finished, and you grinned at him.
‘Your jollies?’ you teased. He huffed out a shy laugh, looking down at his lap.
‘Y’know what I mean,’ he went on. ‘M’workin’, we’re all workin’.
‘You aren’t curious to take a peek?’ you asked, leaning closer to him. If he was a better man, he would have been able to resist the urge to peak down the top of your dress, the silly little spandex straps barely holding you in, your tits heaving with your breath and with how heavily you were teasing him.
‘Course I am,’ he confessed, almost hissing it out over the bass thumping through his body.
‘A man of principles,’ you appraised, moving back to give him a little break, wondering if he was hard yet. You knew he watched you closely, knew that he lingered outside the doorway for you more than any other girl when you were in a private, knew that he was going out of his way not to look at you when you danced on stage, and the innocence of it, the thrill of it when you had everyone else’s attention except his, it fascinated and annoyed and scolded you, tickled you around the collarbone. You watched as he scratched at the salt and pepper patches dotting his jaw, at how he swallowed so hard his muscle ticked and strained under the force of it.
‘Why don’t you take my tips?’ you asked. Candy’s dance slot was nearly over, and you were waiting to see Destiny. She’d promised to show you one of her new pole tricks hanging inverted, and even after all this time you still hadn’t worked up the courage to do that.
‘You need to save ‘em up, get your degree,’ he answered, without thinking, finding it so hard to think through the want for you, for the proximity of you, now that he could smell your perfume and feel your body heat along his side.
‘You know about that?’ you asked, surprised.
Oh shit, he thought. Just like that he’d fucked it.
‘One of the other guards, he mentioned it. Said he saw you reading a textbook one time,’ he covered, as quickly as he could given the circumstances. You nodded at him, as if this satisfied you, but he wasn’t sure if he’d actually pulled it off. His throat was dry, and it was so hot in the club, was it always this hot in the damn club? First chance he got he was gonna call his HVAC guy.
‘What are you studying?’ he asked, but you were smiling then, eyes bright and over his shoulder.
‘Hey, Javi!’ you squealed, giggling and rising from the booth, pushing your chest out and wiggling towards the man Joel had come to recognise as your regular. The lucky bastard always wore aviators, his jeans so tight Joel was surprised he didn’t burst a button when he got a hard on, his moustache quirking up in greeting to you. Joel wondered if you would ever squeal and rush towards him like that, not caring for one second that it was just part of the grift. 
--
You’re not on shift, haven’t been on shift for a week, and his bones itch under his skin, his feet pacing up and down the carpet outside the privates, patrolling the floor like it insulted him. He hates that he checks the roster at the start of every shift and doesn’t see your name listed, hates that he’s worried about you; that you’re sick, that you’re hurt, that you’ve fucking left. He’s useless at his real job, nearly degloving his entire hand with a band saw he was so distracted wondering if he’d see you that night. This can’t go on, and he knows that, but he just needs to know what happened to you, just needs to know that you’re OK, and then he can get back to being dead inside.
Because that’s what you’ve done to him, he realises. You’ve made him feel alive. He can’t resent you for it, you didn’t know it was what you’d done, but it sets his teeth on edge and it unnerves him in a way that makes him consider quitting, finding another club, maybe not a titty-bar, maybe something he can actually put on his resume. He considers it while simultaneously knowing he won’t do it, would never do it, that he’s too far gone even while he can’t go any further.
He stops checking the roster. It hurts in a way he can’t quite get his head around, a pain he doesn’t have any room to accommodate sitting tight and hot in his chest. He keeps his eyes on the patrons and the clock. He takes his breaks in the back room. He feels tired down to the bone.
--
Two weeks after he’d last seen you, he starts his shift the way he always does, going into the back before too many girls arrive to put his bag in his locker and fill his pockets with whatever he’ll need for the rest of the night. He’s busy trying to put a protein bar in his pocket in such a way that it doesn’t look like he has a hard on when he hears footsteps behind him.
‘Joel-y’, you say, and he swings his head towards the sound so hard he thinks he hears something snap. You’re smiling at him, dressed in your jeans and a Fleetwood Mac tee, and he has to consciously remind his heart to keep beating. You’re holding one of your enormous heels in your hand.
‘Where have you been?’ he blurts out, not caring that he sounds needy. You blink at him, surprised.
‘You missed me?’ you ask, and you’re teasing him but he doesn’t care, because he’s glad all over that you’re back and he’ll take all the sass in the world from you if you just stay there.
‘You didn’t…’ Didn’t what, he thinks. Didn’t check in with me? Say goodbye? There’s no reason why you would have. Didn’t promise you weren’t grossed out by him, that he’d made you so uncomfortable you’d gone to work at another club? ‘You didn’t mention you were taking a break,’ he said, eventually.
‘Oh, I had mid-terms,’ you say, breezily. He’s stepping out of his little office now, trying to put space between you before he says something else blatantly insane and stupid, hoping to go back to just looking at you from dark corners while he furtively hopes you don’t see.
‘Wait,’ you say to him, grabbing him by the arm. You hold your shoe up, and he can see where the strap has come away from the base. He takes it from you, feels the brush of your fingertips as he does it, tries to ignore the little flip in his tummy.  
‘Leave it with me,’ he says, stepping towards the backroom where he knows there’s superglue. ‘You got another pair?’
‘Yeah, but those are my favourites,’ you say, looking up at him carefully, watching his face for something. You haven’t got your heavy stage make-up on yet, haven’t curled your hair into gentle waves, and you’re so beautiful like this, he thinks, when he can see the actual colour of your lips, your cheeks.
‘Twenty minutes,’ he says. You smile at him. He wonders if you’ll put your hand on his arm again. You turn away.
--
In the backroom he sits on an upturned milk crate, holding the strap to the base so the superglue will affix to it. If he had his tools he would try and nail it down, but there’s a chance he could shatter the base and these heels seem expensive for something that makes all you girls look so darn cheap.
Your shoes are so small in his hands, and he imagines just for a second its your foot he’s cradling in his lap. He has the presence of mind just enough to wonder what fucked up version of Cinderella he’s trying to live.
He checks the strap, pulls hard on it three times, before he’s satisfied enough to give it back to you.
--
He realises his error, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. He had mentioned to the guys at poker that Sundays were the quiet ones, that the music was just low enough to be able to think, that the girls mostly entertained themselves while their regulars paid them to chat, sometimes to dance. Where you could always get a seat at the tipping rail, could even swing a three song dance out of a twenty if the girl was bored enough.
He feels the drop in his stomach when he sees them, approaching the bar en masse. He can’t remember where you are, he’d lost sight of you between the booths on the floor and the privates, and he tries to remember what time your stage slot was, having checked the roster again despite swearing black and blue he wouldn’t. They haven’t seen him yet, and he wonders if he can just slip out the back and make a break for it, tell them he was sick so he wasn’t working, and they need to fucking call him first. He knows them, knows that they’re not bad guys, that they’re here to keep him company and maybe see some butt while they’re at it. But it stirs in him a deep panic, that they will see you, that they’ll get their eyes on you before he’s really even let himself have a chance to, before he can make you all his own.
A silly little delirious part of him, right at the back of his skull, whispers that it’ll make your wedding really awkward. He shoos it away like an errant mosquito.
Benny sees him, then, is waving him over.
‘Joel, we made it!’ he yells over the music, the guys turning to him to welcome him into the circle. Tommy is already at the bar ordering the beers, but he nods to his big brother. Joel worries for a second that you’ll like his brother better, before he remembers you don’t even like him at all.
He stalks over to him, his jaw aching from the strain, while he looks through the darkness to try and find you. He’ll just have to run interference for a while, keep them busy while you work the floor, try and bundle them back out into the cold before your stage slot.
‘Gentlemen,’ he says, laced with irony, and they’re slapping him on the back, welcoming him in. He reminds himself these guys are mostly Tommy’s friends. Wouldn’t be that sad if he never saw them again.
Frankie tries to hand him a beer but he pushes it away. ‘Workin’.’ He says, simply.
‘More f’me,’ Frankie grins from under his cap.
‘So where’s the best place to sit?’ Benny asks, surveying the room. There are a couple of girls walking the floor, Amber on the stage twisting her hips to the music while staring out over all of their heads.
‘You gotta tip if you sit on the rail,’ Joel says, simply, and Benny nods.
‘I got singles!’ Pope says, ever the responsible one, always the one planning. ‘Sorry, hermano, not enough for you.’ Joel grins at him. Pope can stay, he thinks. Pope will keep his mouth shut.
‘Look, you sit in that booth there,’ Joel says, pointing them to the centre of the room, ‘you can see the stage perfect. You wanna tip a girl though, you gotta get up onta the rail, make sure they know about it.’ He leans in a little, like he’s sharing a secret. ‘These girls work real hard. Make sure you treat ‘em right, ok? They’re good girls. Smart girls. You don’t come here just to look and not sling ‘em some hard earned.’
‘Yes sir,’ Pope says, making a salute that Joel considers might actually be real. He can’t be sure. Tommy was the one who spent a few years in the army with them, not him.
‘Vamos!’ Pope calls, rounding them up and shoving them down onto the cushions. Now Joel just needs to figure out where you are.
--
You keep fuckin’ evading him. One minute you’re in a private, the next you’re at the bar chatting to a patron, trying to get him to buy off the top shelf. Electra is on the stage, and Tommy is entranced by her, the bills practically falling out of his hands while she bends to pick them up with her teeth. It’s distracting Joel, trying to keep an eye on them while also trying to keep distance between you, and the boys are inviting girls over to them, beckoning to them from the stage to come sit by them, and he knows it’s not long before your dance slot is up, knows that as soon as they see you they’ll want you, that they’ll beckon you over, that you’ll fuckin’ go.
He can’t be everywhere, can’t keep doing his job while also trying to manage this situation, has to keep pacing the privates to keep the other patrons in line. He never thought there’d be a time that he wished that fuckin’ Javi guy would show up just to keep you out of sight for a while.
They keep calling to him, too, trying to get him to come over and sit down no matter how many times he explains to them he’s working, that the girls need him to keep an eye on things. Will’s trying to keep a straight face but he’s snickering up at him, and Joel wonders what’s so damn funny.
‘Bet you do keep an eye on things,’ he grins, a little shit-eating thing that makes Joel’s hand curl into a fist. He shakes it loose, the music making it so hard to think, jarring his nervous system. He’s about to say something, about to find a reason to throw the lot of them out, when your name gets called over the loudspeaker. You’re being called to the stage. You’re up next. On the stage.
He has approximately thirty seconds to do something. He is completely rooted to the spot. At the tipping rail his little brother is waiting, dollars in hand. He thinks he might pass out or puke, possibly both and not in that order. His head is swimming. ‘Not like this,’ he thinks. He just doesn’t want you to meet his friends like this.
‘Holy shit,’ he hears Pope say, and he turns to the stage. Your thigh is appearing around the curtain, the shoe he fixed for you running up and down its raggedy edge. You’re all swagger and tits tonight, your hair swept over one eye, and he’s transfixed for a second, completely unable to move, as you shimmy up to the centre of the stage, take the pole in your hand and swivel, kicking your legs out behind you so that you corkscrew down to your knees. Pope is moving to the tipping rail, Benny following close behind. Tommy is leaning forward on his elbows, pulled in by you almost on instinct, and you’ve clocked him now, crawling on your hands and knees towards him.
For a second, Joel sees you pause, studying Tommy’s face, before you search for him in the crowd. You’ve noticed the family connection, and he freezes, terrified of your reaction. Are you going to be angry? Feel betrayed? Hurt that he’s brought his friends here to ogle you, to watch your hips shimmy and your tits bounce? Has he broken some kind of professional code, could he get fuckin’ fired for this, will you never speak to him again? He tries to communicate to you with his eyes that he didn’t bring them here, that he doesn’t want this, that whatever the fuck’s going on with these guys he wants no part in it. He wants you to know he sees you, you in jeans and a tee shirt, that it’s that you he wants.
For a long moment you stare at each other, Joel’s pulse heavy and thick in his ears. You lean back, rear up so that all your weight is on your knees. You run your hand up your side and into your mouth where you bite down on your index finger. You keep your eyes fixed right on his. You wink.
--
So, this is what its like to have a heart attack, Joel thinks. It’s slower than he expected. It’s been hours, and the guys are still here, and by some stroke of divinity or possible the opposite, so is he.
The number of times he’s reminded the guys they have work in the morning. How he’s complained that the music is giving him a headache, and man that pounding base makes it hard to think, and wouldn’t it be fun if they all went to a sports bar, see if the replay of the Knicks game is on? But they can’t leave yet, won’t leave, because they want to see you on stage again, want one last look at your creamy thighs and your bucking hips before they go home and jerk off thinking of their tongues in your cunt. He’s going to have an aneurysm right here on the goddamn floor of this fuckin’ strip club. Sarah’s gonna find out where he’s been workin’ all this time.
The one thing his brother has done for him, the one thing Tommy has done right in his life, is to lay down a rule before they got there that they can’t get any private dances.
‘Didn’t come out here to see ya’ll with hard-ons’, he reminds them, and they snicker but begrudgingly agree, and Joel won’t lie that he feels a surge of pride in his fuckin’ idiot baby brother and his one good idea.
Joel knows the girls are on a roughly two-hour rotation, that by the end of the night all of them will have been on stage about three times. The only problem is that if a girl’s in a private she gets skipped until she’s ready, so sometimes some girls might even need to do more. It seems especially cruel to him that if a girl’s having a bad night, not reeling anything in, not making any money on her own that she gets paraded out even more to the baying crowds of disinterested patrons. He’s seen a few girls with tears in their eyes on the way to the dressing room, complaining of an off night. He’s been around long enough to know that these happen, that there’s no rhyme or reason to them really, just that sometimes that particular girl just isn’t flavour of the night. He’s never seen it with you, though. Never seen you fail to take a man by the hand and lead him down the dark corridor to the u-shaped couches if you deem him worthy. It burns him up with jealousy and also he’s proud of you for it. His good girl taking no prisoners.
He wonders if he can tell the DJ to take you off the rotation, if you’ll notice if you just don’t get called again, but he also knows it would be messing with your money, that Pope and Benny and Will are making good on their promise to tip well. That you’ve got bills and a college degree to earn, that the fact that he’s sick in the guts with a jealous want doesn’t matter, should never be part of the equation when it comes to you.
He does another round, still hoping to see you, still hoping to find you in a private somewhere, but you’ve made yourself scarce and he wonders if it’s because of him, because of his friends being here, worries that he’s embarrassed you. There’s only one other place you could be, tucked away in the dressing room hiding out, unless you’ve just got dressed and left completely, not even bothering with the attempt to tip him tonight.
He shouldn’t but also he needs to, knocks hard on the door and calls out that it’s him before he pushes it open. With all the lights on around the mirrors the place has a warm glow, and he scans quickly to make sure he’s alone before he pushes himself into the room. You’re not here, either, which means he doesn’t know where you are, and he feels a little flare of panic in his sternum. He rests his hand on it, trying to steady his catching breath. He should check the roster. Maybe you had an early finish.
He nearly steps on you when he rounds the corner into his little office. You’re lying flat on your back on the floor, headphones over your ears. For a terrible second he thinks you’ve passed out in here before he realises you’re tapping your feet, your head swaying back and forth to the music only you can hear. He leans down and pushes, gentle, at your shoulder. Your eyes snap open and you startle, pulling the headphones free.
‘Jesus,’ you say, and he steps back again, hangs around the door.
‘Sorry,’ he says, hands up in appeasement. ‘Didn’t mean to scare ya.’
‘No, no, I’m sorry,’ you say, scrambling to stand. Your heels are catching on the carpet and you waver, Joel coming forward to steady you. ‘Sometimes I come by here and stretch out my back a little, the heels are…hard work,’ you say, and he realises you’re blushing, that you think he’s mad. He shakes his head at you, brows saddled.
‘S’ok,’ he says, not letting go of your arm.
‘You’re just not normally in here,’ you say, and you look up at him then, fixing your eyes on his.
‘You can come here any time you like,’ he says. Wants to add that everything you ever wanted he will get for you, that anything you ever asked he would do.
‘-nks,’ you say, feeling shy all of a sudden, realising the size of his hands for the first time.
‘I didn’t know they were comin’,’ he says, trying to keep his voice steady, and you blink for a second, trying to understand. ‘I didn’t invite ‘em, they just showed up.’
‘So, he is your brother,’ you say, smiling now. Joel nods his head at you, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
‘He’s cute,’ you say. ‘Runs in the family.’
Joel grunts at this, can’t quite believe he’s heard it, tries really hard to think straight. You’re wearing practically nothing in his little office on a quiet Sunday night while his brother and four of his friends throw dollars at random half-naked women. It’s a lot to take in.
‘They’re not getting dances,’ you observe, and Joel shakes his head.
‘Their decision, outta respect or somethin’, I guess.’
‘Respect for you?’ you clarify.
‘Each other, I think.’
‘Oh, that’s silly,’ you say. He feels the heat up his neck, a bloom of something worrisome in his tummy. ‘That’s like going to Disneyland and not getting on any of the rides.’
‘I’m gonna have to beg you to rephrase that,’ Joel says, and you grin at him. He can see that flirty sex bunny emerging in you again, can see that you’re up to somethin’, his brain too addled with the smell of you in his office to figure what.
You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you smile, your little dimple on your right cheek popping up when you’re thinking of something sneaky. He wants to kiss it every morning in the warm light of dawn. Wants you wrapped up in his sheets, hair stretched over his pillow, his hands on your tummy and your breast while he eases his fingers between your thighs.
‘Breaks over then, I guess,’ you say, and you’re practically bouncing out of the room now, his brain working just enough to remind him to follow you. He’s three or four paces behind, alarmed at how fast you can go with those heels on, and he sees it now, that you’re making a beeline for them, that you’re a woman on a mission to finally tip him over the edge, to send him right to his grave.
He can only watch, helplessly, trying to figure which one you’ll reach for. Prays it’s not Tommy. Or Will. Or Benny. Or fuckin’ Frankie. For some reason he thinks Pope might be OK. He watches, his pulse hard and racing in his throat, as you approach, six paces from them, then four, then three. Tommy’s noticed you, is pushing back his chair.
And right before you get to them, right before you’re within grasping reach of his brother, you turn, pivot on your heel to the bar, where fuckin’ Javi is waiting for you, cigarette hanging out of his mouth and beer in hand, one knee cocked to the side. You melt into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder, and somehow Joel is relieved and also it’s so much fucking worse then he could ever imagine, burns him brighter than if you had chosen one of his friends, knows that it’s both a lifeline and a spool of barbed wire you’ve thrown him, knows that he’s latched onto it anyway, can feel the tug and tear of his skin.
--
He's hovering outside the privates. His friends have finally packed it in, it’s nearing 1 AM, and in all the commotion he’d forgotten that his feet are killing him, and they’re really crying for his attention now. But he ain’t leavin’ you alone with that Javi guy, doesn’t trust the way his shirts never fuckin’ fit.
He’s so tired, the adrenaline of the night leaking out of him just to leave him wavering and empty, and he feels like he’s on his last nerve, the stress of the evening, the strangeness of it, wearing him down to the stub. But your little shoe sat right in the palm of his hand, but you went to this office to relax when you thought he wouldn’t know about it, but you fuckin’ winked at him like the rest of the room wasn’t even goddamn there, and he ain’t leavin’ you now.
And if he leans on the wall a little, takes the weight off one foot and transfers it up into his shoulder, if he cocks his head to the side, he can just peek you, see Javi’s tight jeans and the plush of you bottom as you grind it on him, your arms up over your head to make your sweet little tits sway in his face.
He shouldn’t be hard at work. Shouldn’t be leaning like this, crowding himself into the corner to get a better look. He knows there are camera in the hallways, as much to keep an eye on the staff as to keep a watch on the patrons, and he knows that somewhere footage is being collected of him right now peeping in on you. He doesn’t fuckin’ care. He can see the way your stockings are banding too tight across your thighs, and he wants to sooth the skin with his tongue, pull the nylon off you and kiss his way around the angry red rings in your flesh. He can see your hips rocking to the music, your hair swaying down your back. Your hands moving to grasp behind you, pushing your chest up and out into Javi’s face.
And he sees it then, the way Javi’s hands are hovering, lifting off the couch and threatening to come down on your skin. The club has a strict no-touchin’ policy, it was drilled into him on his first day. That’s an infraction worthy enough to get him booted out of here, never allowed to set foot in this fine establishment of dirty tomfoolery ever again. Joel swallows, his eyes now fixed on Javi’s hands, waiting for the moment they brush against your soft, glittering skin, takes a step forward towards the doorway, doesn’t even notice that you’ve pivoted, your hands on Javi’s knees as you grind your bottom down, leaning back to rest your head on Javi’s shoulder. Locking eyes with Joel.
His cock is throbbing in time to the music. The bass thrums in his chest. You hook your knees over Javi’s, first the left then the right, and push them open just enough to give Joel a tease. You’re still in your thong but it’s enough for Joel to see the sheen of the fabric, that you’re wet down there in the valley between your thighs. He licks his lips, a hand coming to rest on his chest, as he gazes at you with the kind of want that sets your nervous system on fire.
You’re swivelling your hips on Javi, can feel that he’s hard underneath you, but you want it to be Joel, want more than his eyes on you now that you’ve got them, want his hands and his tongue and his cock. You whimper, and you hear Javi groan behind you, as if any of this is for him. Javi pulls his knees further apart, unknowingly opens you up for Joel, and there’s a moment where you feel more naked then when you’re topless in front of fifty strange men. Joel has stripped you bare, to the quick. You can see how fast he’s breathing by the way his hand rises and falls on his chest. You time your movements to it, jerk your hips as if he’s breathing his touch into you from across the room.
Except he’s mad, now, you can see the way his brows have furrowed, the way his jaw has set, and you’re too hot and too overwhelmed to realise until the last moment that Javi has his hands on you, is cupping your breasts from behind, trying to reach from behind to tweak your nipples, pulling you further down into his chest to rub more fully on his cock.
Joel’s with you in four strides and you reach for him, both arms lifting up to his as he wrenches you free, screams at Javi to back off, pulls you behind him and shields you with his body while he threatens to beat Javi to a pulp before throwing him out onto the street, then beating him to death where the cameras don’t point.
‘You don’t fuckin’ touch her,’ he’s yelling, and he can feel that his throat is raw, dry, but he can’t fuckin’ think over the crushing beat in his ears, realises after a couple of stilted moments that it’s not the music that’s deafening him but that it’s his heart, that he’s vibrating with fury and want, that Javi has backed up a bit on the couch and lifted his hands in the air but hasn’t scurried away, that he’s not scared or worried at all, that he got to put his hands on heaven and will do nothing to apologise for it, and something snaps in Joel, something feral and needy and primal, something that has been chewing at the bars of its cage for months.
He pulls you to him and you gasp, can feel Joel’s pulse through your back as he manoeuvres you to rest on his chest, lifts one foot up onto the couch while he strips your thong from you, spreads you open for Javi, your body weight leaning on his as he holds you with just one arm around you.
‘This is how you fuckin’ touch her,’ Joel seethes, pushing his hand down over your belly and onto your waiting cunt, cupping your slit and teasing the slick gathering there up and over your clit. You gasp, the leg you have planted on the floor shaking as he strums, gently but somehow so firm, and you can feel yourself opening up to him, your cunt wet and aching, trying to draw him in.
‘You seein’ this, see how wet she gets for me?’ he’s saying, and you glance down to see that Javi is indeed watching, shock on his face and locked in a kind of paralysis, his eyes flicking between your cunt and Joel’s furious face. ‘You couldn’t get this from her,’ Joel is saying, and you’re leaning back into him because your knees are definitely going to buckle, but he holds you firm and steady, and you lift your face up to the ceiling and gasp.
Joel isn’t thinking, just listening to you, just letting his fingers finally touch what he’s dreamt about for months. Your sopping cunt is probably dribbling onto his pants and he doesn’t care, wants it there, wants you deep down in the fibres of the fabric where he’ll never scrub you free. You gasp again when he pushes two fingers in, feels your walls expand to accommodate him, raises the heel of his palm to ease the stretch by rubbing quick little circles on your clit.
‘Slide right in,’ he says, his unhinged commentary gritting out over the music, loud enough for just you and Javi to hear. ‘S’what happens when you’ve got her achin’ for ya,’ he says matter-of-factly.
You’re rolling your hips now, unable to help yourself as you arch your back, wanting to twist in his arms and sink your teeth into his neck, lick and lave at his collarbone, keen into his skin until the sound of it attaches itself to his bones.
‘Look at that pretty cunt,’ Joel is still saying, almost frantic now, the heat on his skin making it impossible to think of anything else, anything so complex as consequences. He’s lost in the touch of it, in the way Javi is looking at him imploringly, the way he can see that this pompous fuckin’ arsehole is getting a schoolin’ on pleasuring a woman, in the way you’re gasping and whimpering just for him. ‘S’mine,’ he says, twisting his fingers up to the knuckle in you, hooking into the spongey spot he knows will make you see stars.
He wants Javi to beg him to stop. Wants him to get down on his knees and apologise, wants him to swear he’ll never come back. But he’s distracted, because you’re calling to him now, the sound of your sweet cries of his name echoing through the vacant halls of his brain.
‘Joel-y’, you’re whimpering, babbling. ‘Joel-y, please,’ and you’re not even sure what you’re asking for, just that he’s torturing you, setting you on fire right here in the privates, that the pleasure he’s wringing from you is too much, too overwhelming, that you want to collapse into him but you’re still trying to bear some of your weight, that your thighs are wobbling and your body is screaming at you to let go but you can’t, not in this position, no matter how good it is, because you can’t get purchase, you can’t grind, the heel of his hand is too blunt on your clit.
He can sense it, that he’s trapped you right where it’s too much and not enough, and a part of him wants to leave you there, wants to make you feel what he’s felt all those weeks he spent waitin’ for ya, checkin’ that fucking roster like a goddamn fuckin’ dog, causin’ all those little fuck ups at the job site thinkin’ about this little cunt wrapped so tight around his knuckles.
But he’s not cruel.
‘Lick it,’ he barks out, gesturing down your body to Javi while he pushes you forward, shifts your weight more fully to the couch. You instinctually hook your knee over Javi’s shoulder, the extra leverage finally giving you purchase enough to properly move. ‘Suck her little clit ‘til she fuckin’ soaks me,’ Joel says, and there’s no arguing with him, not that you would, not that Javi would by the look on his face.
He's looking uncertain, like this might be a trap, and you reach down and grab his hair in your hand. ‘Please, Javi,’ you say, and he’s on you then, without further hesitation, his lips catching your little bud and grasping it between his teeth. You scream, feel Joel jostle you until your head is twisted around to bury in his neck, and you can feel more than hear the little rasps of encouragement as he talks you through it.
‘Such a good girl f’me,’ he’s saying, and you’re barely registering it, but your cunt is listening, clamping down hard on his fingers as Javi grips you with his mouth. ‘Teachin’ us both a thing or two, ain’t ya, baby? Showin’ us just how to treat a sexy little cunt like yours.’
You’re going to die. You’re going to burst into flames. There’s just no question in your mind that this is how you go, but you just fucking hope that you’ll get to come before it happens. It’s like every single nerve ending is now in your pussy, like you are only breathing Joel and Javi, your body sandwiched between them as you grip Javi’s head to you and twist in joyous agony against Joel’s chest.
‘Wanna hear you, baby,’ Joel’s whispering again. ‘Wanna hear it when ya come f’me.’
You open your eyes, look down your body to Javi, where he’s watching you, his eyes travelling up your body to rest on your face. He’s palming his cock, you can see the way his arm is moving up and down slowly, and you can feel Joel throbbing behind you.
‘Don’t look at him,’ Joel admonishes, and you slam your eyes shut, turn again to bury your head in his neck. ‘He can’t help ya,’ Joel goes on. ‘S’just there to make you come, baby.’
God it’s fucking debauched, is what it is. It’s filthy and sweaty and you’re so wet, and you feel sexier than you ever have, feel the power in your body and in your desire, feel the way you have finally, finally brought something feral out in Joel. You’re going to come, because Joel has determined that you are going to, and you just know without him even telling you so that he won’t let you go until you have, until he is satisfied that he has wrung out every last whimper from you, until you are sated and he is confident his job is done.
Javi’s licking hard at your clit now, sometimes sucking on it, and you slam your hips down onto Joel’s hand when he does it, rock your knee to bring Javi closer to you, try to swallow him with your cunt and your hands in his hair.
You can’t get enough breath to warn them. It’s just going to happen, they’re just going to throw you over the edge and into the abyss and you can’t even tell them they’re about to do it. Joel sees it though, feels the way your cunt is gripping him.
‘Do it, baby,’ he’s gritting into your ear, catching every roll of your hips so you won’t fall. ‘Show him what it’s like when I wreck you.’
And you do, then. Harder than you ever have in your life, your lungs pillowing out in your chest to suck in all the air available to them, your wails lost to the music as streams of your slick press into Javi’s face, where you soak him and Joel behind you, shivering and convulsing as you topple over the peak, dimly aware of Joel’s words in your ear as you go, calling you his pretty girl, his beautiful, perfect girl. His girl, his girl, his.
--
There are too many broken workplace safety rules to count, so Joel doesn’t bother. He knows he’s lost his job, that the cameras will have picked up all of that, that as he drops his ID badge and set of keys on the desk in his little office that it was worth it, that you were worth it. He’ll get another job, find a bar open just as late as this one even if it’s further out of town, will travel and will keep Sarah in school and will keep the memory of your sweet little cunt fluttering around his fingers locked up tight in the back of his brain for when the nights are cold and lonely.
When he drives you home, bundles you up in his car and puts the heater on full blast to keep you warm, you tell him that you finished your degree weeks ago, that you were lying about the mid-terms, that you had actually been down in Florida helping your mother move your grandpa into care. It hadn’t seemed necessary to talk about them in that environment, you said, and he rests his hand on your knee because he understands, and also because he likes you.
He doesn’t ask for your number. Knows you probably wouldn’t give it to him, is too afraid that you’d regret everything that you did together, that you were humouring him with even letting him drop you home, that this isn’t even your house.
He only found it later, written in your neat writing, your number and your real name, when he was stripping his pants off himself and dumping them into the hamper, his come collected on the inside where he exploded as he rutted against you, as he listened to your desperate, whimpering cries for him.
He tacks the little piece of paper to the mirror, memorising the digits in case one day it falls. He isn’t gonna call it. He just wants it there, a reminder of you and what you’ve made him feel, how you’ve lifted him, freed something in him. He just wants it there. Proof that you were real.
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fandoms--fluff · 10 months ago
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Heloop can you do one of baby Mikaelson, that she is always with nik and Elijah but when Hayley comes to leave with them yn what to be with her
New Favorite
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Baby Mikaelson sister reader x Hayley marshall (+ Klaus & Elijah)
Warnings: pregnancy?
A/n: I've been wanting to write something like this for a while and I got so happy when this request came in!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You peek out from behind your big brother, Elijah's, leg. Across the room, where she's sitting on the couch with her legs crossed, is Hayley. The lady who all of your brothers and sister have been fighting about what should happen.
Apparently something happened with Niky and her, but no one will tell you and you've been too nervous to go up to Hayley and actually say something to her.
The closest you ever gotten to her is right now, holding on for dear life to Elijah's leg. You don't like being around people you aren't familiar with. Which I weird that you're feeling like that with Hayley, Elijah has been noticing, since you technically have met her before in Mystic Falls. But you guys did just move back to New Orleans and it's a bigger change for you considering you like being in Mystic Falls, that's sometimes hard to believe truthfully for him. Then again you don't have some horrendous memories of the place like the others do.
You look at what she's wearing and your eyes land on her hands. On her fingers, there are a couple rings in various shapes and some have a colorful stone on them.
Elijah is talking with Niky. It sounds like he's mad with him. Though that's not really concerning to you considering he and Elijah get into fights all the time, so you're used to it. The same with when Niky and Bekah also get into fights.
As they continue to squabble, you carefully start letting go of your big brother's leg and start to make your way over to Hayley. You move slowly, not wanting to accidently trip like you do sometimes when you're nervous or excited.
Hayley looks down and sees you standing a couple feet away the end of the couch supporting your small basically toddler frame. She smiles softly, she took a liking to you during her time in Mystic Falls. Even though she despised, and still kinda does, Klaus, she likes how he acts all soft and protective of you.
She's noticed you're basically always with either Elijah or Klaus. Whether that be them carrying you, holding your hand, you attached to their legs or just being in the same room.
"Hi there" She speaks to you first, her tone soft.
You look up at her with big eyes and take a small step towards her, still holding onto the couch cushions on the way. You lift your other tiny hand up to give her a small wave.
It takes you a moment to climb up on the couch and sit down on your knees, facing her.
She has to admit, You're pretty cute.
You look up at her face and then down at her hands, repeating that a couple more times. Your sight finally lands on her hands. The rings shine under the light.
She realizes it's her rings you're looking at, so she moves her hand and places it in front of you, right above your knees. "You like my rings?" She asks you quietly.
You wrap your tiny hands around her hand and start tracing the ring with a butterfly on it. It takes you a moment to reply, but quietly you finally say something, "Pretty." You mumbled before looking back up at her, your hands still clutched to hers.
"It is, isn't it?" She smiles.
Rebekah walks into the house from being out all day. She rolls her eyes at the two arguing. Instead, she made her way to the both of you.
"Well, I think it's time for a certain someone to get ready for bed," She tells you after reading the clock that's sitting on the mantel.
You frown before complying and climb off the couch. You reach up and grab your big sister's outstretched hand. As you guys start walking toward the stairs, you look back and wave a 'bye' to Hayley.
Over the next few months, you start spending more time with Hayley. You got attached to her quickly. She revealed to you about being pregnant with Klaus' child, earning an excited reaction from you, and getting a smile out of herself as well.
It seems as if you're spending more time with Hayley than your brothers. As Rebekah has teased your guys' brothers about.
Klaus sits with you on your bed, trying to get you to sleep. Which isn't working in his favor. When you want to be, you can be more stubborn than Rebekah, and that's saying something.
"It's past your bedtime" He whispers. He's not exactly trying that hard anyway, but you usually listen to him.
"Bad sleep" You frown up at him. "No, not bad sleep, you need sleep, or else you'll be grumpy in the morning," He says, leaving out the point on how Elijah will have his head if he lets you stay up way too late again.
"So let's lay back down, curl up, and go to sleep," He tells you softly, handing you your stuffed yellow teddy bear.
You slowly follow his wording and snuggle your teddy bear as he tucks you in. Your brother places a kiss on your head before turning the lamp off and slowly leaves the room.
After laying in your bed for ten minutes, unable to fall asleep, you sit back up and shuffle out of your bed.
You quietly walk out into the hallway until you find yourself in what used to be Kol's room and now is Hayley's. You patter in and Hayley looks up from her book to see you standing a couple feet away with your teddy bear clutched in your hand.
"Hey sweetie, aren't you supposed to be in bed" She asked you, already knowing the answer. "uh-uh" You shake your head and walk over to the bed and climb up with Hayley helping you.
"Whatever you say, hun" She chuckles.
You crawl closer to her. She lifts her right arm up, having you cuddle into her side. You move down a bit to rest your head on her pregnancy bump. You giggle from the feeling of magic coming from the baby. You're the only one who seems to be able to feel any of it.
You hug your teddy with one arm while your other hand is tracing shapes on Hayley's bump, tiredly. Not even ten minutes later, you're out like a light.
Klaus searches around the house, trying to find you. He hasn't seen you all morning. While he searches, Elijah stands up from where he's sat. "What's wrong?"
"I can't seem to find our baby sister anywhere" Klaus answers before leaving the room, obvious that you're not in here. Elijah follows after him.
"Have you checked Hayley's room?" Elijah asks him. That makes him pause before going up the stairs to where the bedrooms are.
He opens the door to the pregnant werewolf's room and walks in. What he sees makes him breathe a sigh of relief. Showing in front of them, Hayley and you are sound asleep, you cuddled into her arms with your bear still in your grasp.
"What are you two doing? There are more than enough reasons as to why not to wake up one of them, let alone both of them" Rebekah whisper at them, pulling the two men out of the bedroom and closing the door.
"But I think, you guys have been replaced with a new favorite" Rebekah smirks, nodding to Hayley's door before walking away.
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believemedarlin · 10 months ago
Text
The Perfect Man
Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader (3.9k words) Also available on AO3
Summary:
“You know, if you combined all the men on the team… they’d make the perfect man.”
“What?” Emily sputtered into her wine.
Penelope giggled while JJ looked intrigued
***
A drunken night out with the girls leads to some interesting revelations.
***
“Let’s play Fuck, Marry, Kill.”
A round of groans sounded from the table, but Penelope Garcia was not to be dissuaded. 
“Come on, ladies. It’ll be fun!”
Her best puppy dog eyes firmly in place, Penelope implored her friends and coworkers with a practiced look. You were holding strong until she brought out the big guns and pouted at you.
A mere ten seconds later you caved. 
“Okay, fine,” You sighed. “But can we use kick instead of kill? I always hated that option. Why do you have to kill them when kicking would be just as effective in showing your lack of interest? No death required.”
“Ooh, I like that,” Penelope immediately agreed with a nod. “You know I’m a pacifist at heart.”
She turned to the other two women seated at the table, pout back in full force. JJ gave in first, patting Penelope’s hand with an indulgent smile and a nod. 
Seeing that she was outnumbered, Emily shrugged. “Sure. But I’ll need another drink if we’re doing this. I haven’t played this since college.”
“I’ll get us all another round.” Penelope jumped to her feet to join her and they made their way to the bar, weaving through the other patrons.
It was a rare Friday night off and the women of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit had decided to go out for a much-needed night of ladies-only fun and frivolity. They had happily left the guys to sort out their evenings and escaped the second the clock struck five.
They were all a few drinks in at this point, which is most likely the reason Penelope had suggested the game. She always got a bit playful when she drank.
They returned a few minutes later, fresh drinks in hand. 
Once settled, Penelope leaned in, an eager smile on her face. “Okay. Fuck, Marry, Kick. Henry Cavill, Ben Barnes, Zachary Levi. And go!”
Emily took a sip of her drink and wasted no time in voicing her choices, followed by JJ and you. You took turns coming up with more and more outlandish options, and pleasantly spent the next hour drinking and laughing with your friends.
You had just finished giggling over Penelope’s reasoning behind her choosing to kick Willy Wonka and marry Jareth the Goblin King so she could enjoy a night with Conan the Barbarian when Emily leaned in with a smirk.
“I’ve got a good one. Hotch, Morgan, and Reid.”
The table erupted in a chorus of ooohs and laughter. 
JJ bit her lip in thought. “Okay, since we know them personally and I’m a happily taken woman, I’m going to change mine to kiss, because it’s weird to say I want to fuck any of them. So, uh, I’ll go with kiss Morgan, marry Reid, and kick Hotch. But only barely, because I do not want him angry with me.”
“Easy,” Penelope chirped. “Fuck Morgan, marry Morgan, and kick Reid and Hotch.”
You, JJ, and Emily burst into laughter, with JJ swatting Penelope on the arm. “You can’t double up like that!”
“Can too! My game, my rules. Besides, it’s special circumstances with Morgan as an option.”
Emily snorted, then grinned. “Hmm. I think I’d go with fuck Morgan, marry Hotch, and kick Reid.”
All eyes then turned to you as you stared into your drink, taking entirely too long as you overthought the options.
Eventually, Emily cleared her throat and you looked up to see her watching you expectantly.
“What?” You grinned sheepishly with a shrug. “It’s harder than you’d think!”
The ladies teased you good-naturedly until you finally said, “Okay, okay! Um, I think…” 
You blew out a breath in a long sigh. “Fuck Reid, marry Hotch, kick Morgan. No wait… Maybe fuck Hotch, marry Reid?”
Emily and JJ cackled while Penelope put on a fake offended air. “Why you gotta kick my beloved cinnamon hot chocolate Adonis not once, but twice? He’s the perfect man!”
"I mean, a lot of women would think that, yeah, but not me.”
Penelope gasped and pressed her hand to her chest dramatically. “Why, I never.”
You giggled with a shrug. “Sorry?” 
“You’re forgiven.”
“What I want to know,” JJ chimed in with a mischievous grin, “is why you can’t decide between Reid and Hotch on who to marry?”
You buried your face in your hands to hide your blush. “I don’t know! Both seem like solid choices. I think they’d both make good husbands.”
Emily smirked. “Sure it wasn’t because you couldn’t decide which you’d rather fuck?”
Penelope and JJ burst into laughter again while you groaned into your hands.
“You all are menaces. I don’t know why I spend time with you.”
“Because we’re wonderful people and you love us.”  Penelope teased.
“That’s debatable.” You mumbled.
“Oh, come on,” she leaned into your side and laid her head on your shoulder. “You know you adore us.” Penelope batted her eyes and you couldn’t help but grin.
“Yeah, I do.”
She cheered and called for another round of drinks.
The game wound down and devolved into a rather extensive list of men and women that each of the ladies wouldn’t mind enjoying some personal one-on-one time with.
You had been sitting in a comfortable silence for the past few minutes, chin in hand and elbow on the table, your mind pondering on something Penelope had said earlier. Your voice took on a contemplative tone as you mused aloud, “You know, if you combined all the men on the team… they’d make the perfect man.”
“What?” Emily sputtered into her wine.
Penelope giggled while JJ looked intrigued.
“Okay, just hear me out. Now, granted, everyone’s idea of the perfect man is different but for me… If we go by physical attributes first, you have to admit that each guy is objectively attractive on their own. I mean seriously, was it a prerequisite that everyone has to be outrageously good-looking to be a member of the team?”
The ladies heartily agreed with laughter and nods, but you gestured across the table to them. “I’m including you three in this too. Have you looked at yourselves? You’re all absolutely gorgeous.”
“Damn right, we are,” Emily exclaimed as she high-fived JJ.
You raised your glass to her and took a sip before expanding on your premise. “So by themselves, each man is handsome but combined…”
You tilt your head in thought. “For me, it would be Reid’s hair. I’ve always liked longer hair on a guy and have you seen those curls when he lets it grow out? And then add in Hotch and Rossi’s dark hair and … yeah. Next would be Morgan and Rossi’s facial hair. I don’t know about you ladies but I like a man with a bit of scruff, you know what I mean? Goatee or full beard or just a couple of days growth, hell even a good five o’clock shadow, as long as it’s maintained and not all scraggly, I like it. Oooh, remember when Hotch came back with a beard?
“Yeah,” you sighed, a bit more dreamily than you had intended, surely caused by the late hour and not the memory of a casually dressed, bearded Hotch. “Like that.”
All three ladies shared a knowing look, but you paid them no mind. 
“Though there is something to be said about a freshly shaved face. It’s so soft…” You sighed again.
“And then there’s height.” You knew you were rambling, but with the alcohol fueling you, there was little chance of stopping you now. “They’re all at least 6 foot so the height difference is perfect for both cuddles and forehead kisses.”
At this, Emily snorted. “Forehead kisses?”
“Yes,” you snipped primly. “They are the pinnacle of non-lip-to-lip kisses and they are my favorite thing. They just make you feel so adored. Now shush.”
You shooed her and rested your chin back in your hand. “Let’s see… Eyes. Honestly, I think they all have lovely eyes. I’m not picky on eye color really but I think Hotch’s stand out the most to me. I mean, have you seen his eyelashes? It should be criminal for a man to have such beautiful eyelashes.”
Another round of nods and hummed agreements sounded from the table.
“You know,” you continue with barely a pause, “I’ve never been a fan of really buff dudes, which sorry Pen, but that’s kinda why poor Morgan got kicked twice.” You shrugged unapologetically at her. 
“I’ve always preferred lean guys. Not scrawny but not bugling out his shirt, you know? Strong but not shoved in your face. But!” You sit straighter in your chair, index finger raised to emphasize your point. “That’s just looks. Personality-wise, I’m drawn to kindness first and our boys all have that in spades. And they each show it in different ways, but it’s always present.”
You met Penelope’s eyes. “And Morgan’s kindness absolutely overrides his excessive muscle mass. He’s honestly one of the kindest people I know, even if he’d deny it. He’s not humble about a lot of things, but he is about that.”
Your eyes dropped to the table as your finger ran along the wood grain. “I also like intelligence and while yes, first thoughts go to Reid, the others are all brilliant too. Like, Rossi is so wise! It seems like he always knows what’s going on with someone before anyone else, and always seems to know just what to say just when you need to hear it. And they each have strengths that I admire. I genuinely like each of them as a person and I’m proud to know them and am honored they consider me a friend. Honestly, I feel that way about all of you.”
“Aw!” Penelope sniffled. “That’s so sweet. We love you too, you know.”
You gave her hand a quick squeeze and took another sip of your drink. 
“What about lips?”
You blinked at JJ. “Lips? I’m not sure. I don’t know that I look at them much.”
Emily tilted her head. “You seriously don’t look at men’s lips?”
“Not really? I mean, I notice smiles. And honestly, how did I not start with that? It’s usually one of the first things I notice about someone. Smiles make everyone look twice as attractive. Oh, and a sense of humor! Gotta love a man who can make you laugh.”
“This one is definitely Morgan,” Emily chimed in and you nodded in agreement while Penelope raised her glass.
“Absolutely. He always makes me laugh, but so do the others. Rossi is snarky, which I appreciate as a fellow snarker. I can’t tell you the number of times he’s made me hold back a laugh during a round table. Reid can be really funny, too. Especially when we’re making Star Trek or Doctor Who references that no one else gets. Except you, Pen, but you’re usually in your lair. And Hotch—”
“No,” Emily cut in. “No way you think he’s funny. The man barely smiles.”
You tsked and leaned in, your tone turning a bit haughty. “First of all, I think it’s a good thing that he holds those back because have you seen how handsome he is when he smiles? His whole face transforms and he has dimples. Dimples . It’s ridiculous and no one would be able to focus on work if he was blinding us with his smile all the time. And secondly, yes. He’s hilarious, actually. He has a dry sense of humor that gets me every time. And he is so straight-faced about it. I laughed embarrassingly loud once at something he said and I had to leave the room because I couldn’t stop giggling. And the man had the nerve to be smug about it later.”
You shook your head with exasperated fondness, not noticing the raised eyebrows and pointed looks the other ladies were sharing.
“Anyway,” You sighed and leaned back in your chair. “Morgan is my biggest supporter, Reid nerds out with me, Rossi gives the best advice, and Hotch makes me feel safe. All things that would attract me to someone. So, with their powers combined…” You spread your hands in a sweeping motion. “The perfect man.”
“Huh,” Penelope hummed. “You know, I kinda see it.”
“See?” You grinned triumphantly. “We really do work with amazing guys.”
A cry of ‘hear, hear’ sounded around the table and the four of you leaned in to clink glasses.
Emily settled back in her chair with a smirk, her eyes focused on you. “Okay, you waxed poetic about the guys. Now, what about us?”
You grinned. “You, my darling lady loves, all hold a special place in my heart. There’s no way I could choose. You are each the perfect woman.”
Another cheer went up and everyone downed their drinks, laughing merrily.
The outing wound down about half an hour later. You each stumbled your way outside, Emily and Penelope deciding to share a taxi.
You stood with JJ as you waved the other two goodbye; you waiting for your own taxi and JJ waiting for Will to pick her up.
“You know,” she said conversationally, her eyes on the street. “You mentioned Hotch quite a few times describing your perfect man.”
You blinked. “What? I did not.”
She turned to you with a wide grin. “Oh yes, you did. No denying it now.”
You sputtered, not sure how to reply.
She chuckled and laid a hand on your arm, just as your taxi arrived. “Seems to me like he ticks quite a few of the boxes for your perfect man.” She leaned in to whisper, “So what are you going to do about it?”
JJ winked as she stepped back to open the door of the car that pulled in behind your taxi and slid in. “Just think about it, okay?”
You nodded numbly, mechanically climbing into the back seat of the taxi while Will and JJ patiently waited to make sure you were safely on your way.
You mumbled out your address and barely noticed the drive home, arriving much sooner than expected, as your mind was focused on JJ’s words.
You shook your head as you entered your apartment, determined to think no more of it. It was just a silly statement born out of one too many drinks.
There was no way you thought of Hotch that way.
No way at all.
***
The rest of the weekend was miraculously quiet and work-free. You couldn’t remember the last time you had so much time to yourself, so you took full advantage of it.
As days off always tended to do, they flew by too quickly and Monday morning arrived before you were ready for it. You greeted everyone when you entered the department, nodding to Rossi and waving at Morgan and Penelope as you settled in at your desk.
No new case had come in, so today would be an in-office day catching up on paperwork and caseloads.
You were productive throughout the day, completing most of the pending work assigned to you, and you were feeling quite accomplished with the diminishing stack in your inbox.
Only a few minutes remained in the workday when you stood from your chair, stretching your stiff back, and made your way up the stairs to Hotch’s office to drop off an armful of completed reports.
You knocked on his door, only having to wait a second before he bid you enter.
He was focused on the open file in front of him and he didn’t look up until you spoke. “These are ready for you to review, Hotch.”
His eyes shot up to meet yours before dropping to the folders in your arms. He gestured to the corner of his desk nearest you and went back to scribbling notes on the report. “You can just leave them there, thank you.”
You set them down next to another stack and grimaced. There were multiple bundles of files littering his desk. While in-office days were great for clearing your desk of work, it unfortunately always added to Hotch’s workload.
“Looks like everyone had similar offerings for you today. Will you be able to leave at a reasonable hour tonight? I’d be happy to help with anything if you need it.”
Hotch finished the line he was writing and looked up at you through his long lashes, a small, shy kind of smile curving his lips. His cheeks were just a touch pinker than usual and you blinked because you’ve never seen that look on his face before.
He looked almost bashful, a word you would never have associated with Aaron Hotchner.
But damn, was it a good look on him. He really was a handsome man, wasn’t he? Kind, funny, successful, and a great father. He was practically the perfect man.
You froze and blinked again at the realization.
“Oh, uh,” his deep voice broke you from your thoughts. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got it covered. I shouldn’t be here too much longer.”
“Right, of course.” You nodded and prayed he couldn’t see the blush you knew was rapidly spreading across your face. “Well, good night, sir.” 
You spun on your heel and opened the door, ready to flee as fast as your feet could carry you.
His low, murmured good night followed you out the door and you nearly shivered because holy hell, even his voice was attractive.
You quickly grabbed your things and nearly sprinted to the elevators, not wanting to stay one second longer around skilled profilers who could read you so easily, knowing they would spot your flushed cheeks instantly and want to know what caused them. Or worse, they’d already know, and that was not something you were ready to discuss with any of them at the moment.
You had fully intended on ignoring JJ’s words from Friday night, but after your reaction just now, you knew she was right.
Hotch was pretty damn close to fitting the idea of your perfect man.
Or maybe, the idea of your perfect man came from Hotch.
You sighed as you entered the thankfully empty elevator, finally admitting to yourself the truth that had been staring you in the face for longer than you’d ever care to admit.
You had it bad for Aaron Hotchner.
Oh, you were in so much trouble.
***
Aaron watched as you left his office, your face a delightful shade of pink.
His eyes followed as you rushed to your desk, snatched up your things, and darted out the door.
He hadn’t meant to overhear Prentiss and Garcia’s conversation that morning as they reminisced over their night out last Friday. He certainly hadn’t meant to linger when they mentioned you and your adorable—according to Garcia—rant about the perfect man. And he most certainly hadn’t meant to lean in rather eagerly when they whispered about just how many times his name had come up as an example during said rant.
He had been pleasantly surprised and somewhat stunned by the information. He’d never thought of himself as an ideal for the perfect man. 
Sure, he supposed he had a few attributes that some women might find appealing. He had a successful career and tried to keep in shape, though that was more for his job than vanity.
But he never imagined that anyone would look at him and think that he was a paradigm of their perfect man. Least of all you.
You were a brilliant profiler, exceptional in the field and able to hold your own in a fight when needed, but you were also caring with the victims and their families. You were witty and kind and easygoing. You were someone who smiled freely and laughed readily and did your best to cheer and encourage the team on tough cases.
Not someone who would think of stoic, hardass Aaron Hotchner as the perfect man.
Still, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from drifting to the window of his office throughout the day, seeking you out.
He thought back to when you joined the BAU and how quickly you became not only an essential part of the team but a much-welcomed member of their little family. Everyone adored you and Aaron himself had to admit that you had wormed your way into his heart.
He loved the time he got to spend with you when the team got together to unwind after a case and the little moments of levity you all shared in between working. He recalled the times he managed to make you laugh and the occasions where he found himself chuckling as well. You were easy to talk to and more often than not, the two of you fell into conversation whenever everyone else was either asleep or preferred to be left alone on the jet going to and from cases.
He genuinely enjoyed your company and found himself wishing he could enjoy it more often.
His eyes wandered to the bullpen again, zeroing in on you almost immediately. Prentiss and Morgan were standing by your desk when one of them said something that made you laugh.
Your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth opened to release an enchanting sound of delight. Aaron couldn’t look away and had to admit that you really were quite lovely. Inside and out.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat looking at you but knew it was longer than appropriate. He shook his head and forced himself to focus back on his work.
He managed to shove all thoughts of you from his mind for the remainder of the day until a soft knock sounded on his door late in the afternoon.
He didn’t bother to look up from the report he was notating after giving a gruff come in until he heard your voice.
Aaron couldn’t keep his eyes from darting up to meet yours before dropping them to the large stack of files in your arms.
He gestured for you to place them on the corner of his desk next to the ones Reid had deposited earlier and thought that would be his singular interaction with you for the day.
But then your caring side came out again and you sweetly offered to help him, a proposition that both filled him with fondness and nervousness.
After all his wayward thoughts about you throughout the day, he wasn’t sure if being in close proximity with you was a good idea or not. 
Aaron looked up at you again, the late afternoon sun enveloping you, enhancing your features, and his only thought was that he’d been wrong earlier. 
You weren’t just lovely. You were stunning.
In that moment, he was completely captivated by you and his thoughts ran rampant as he cataloged every minute detail of you. Your beauty, your kindness, your brilliance, and all the little things that made you you . Everything that endeared you to him.
But his thoughts came to a crashing halt when he realized that he was staring at you. He felt his face flush and he stammered as he gently declined your help.
You bid him a good night, but Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off the spreading blush on your cheeks. It kept his attention until you were out of sight.
He blinked and dropped his eyes back to the forgotten report in front of him, a slow smile creeping across his face.
He may not have meant to overhear the conversation that caused him to think about you all day, but he was starting to be glad he had. It seemed it was all he needed to face a few truths he had been in denial about for a long while now.
He was completely and utterly smitten with you.
Now, he just had to decide what to do about it. 
Aaron sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
Oh, he was in so much trouble.
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corkinavoid · 2 months ago
Text
DPxDC When You Are Suddenly Dating a Princess (pt. 2)
[<- part 1]
"What do you mean-" Jason starts, but the girl is already tapping her ear briefly - and only now does he notice a tiny comm there. Fuck, he should have known.
"Oscar? I changed my mind, I want to claim something," Jazz says easily, and, after a short pause, "A Tecpatl, the one with the owl. No, it's for personal reasons- You don't have to, but alright." She taps her ear again, and Jason can't help but ask:
"Who's Oscar?" He is not jealous. He is just insanely curious and very confused.
"My bodyguard," Jazz rolls her eyes, "At least he thinks he is. I'd say he is more of a secretary."
That doesn't really explain anything. It actually just adds even more questions - what kind of a magic user needs a bodyguard? or a secretary, for that matter? - but Jason keeps them to himself for now. He is... kind of intrigued now. Jazz said 'claim', not 'buy'. Which might be just a weird word choice, but somehow, Jason thinks it was deliberate.
A bald, black-skinned guy in a black suit and sunglasses - which, seriously, how does he even see a thing in here with those on - makes his way through the crowd and stops in front of Jazz, nodding slightly to her.
"Lady Phantom, I understand you want to make an impression, but using your status for personal matters-"
"Did I ask for your opinion, Oscar?" Jazz's voice doesn't change. It's still pleasant and sweet, and she is still smiling, if just a bit, but there's an unmistakable steel edge to her tone now. Jason feels a light shiver run down his spine. He's seen Jazz in a lot of different situations and circumstances; he's seen her get mad at a librarian who banned some controversial books in the public library, and he's seen her skillfully take down an armed robbery in a shop all by herself, and he's even seen her successfully stare down Killer Croc on one occasion.
Yet, he's never seen her like this, with her chin raised up high and radiating authority like she is the most powerful person in the room.
Also, Lady Phantom?..
"No," Oscar admits after a pause and presses his lips together, "But the Council of Ancients will not be pleased."
"Council of Ancients couldn't care less even if I declared war," Jazz brushes the comment off, and Jason's levels of confusion are growing higher and higher with every word they exchange. Oscar sighs and finally complies:
"Very well, then," he breathes out with a sense of surrender, and then turns his head to Jason just slightly, "Is this an urgent matter, or should I go talk to the auctioneer and the sellers?"
Jazz looks to Jason, raising her eyebrows in question. And, technically, it's not that much of a time crunch now since Jason doesn't have to try and sneak through the security or wait for the auction to start officially. But he feels a bit petty. Also, this man was questioning his girlfriend, which is offensive on many levels in Jason's opinion.
So, he nods, "Urgent."
Oscar's face doesn't change one bit, but Jason has plenty of experience with emotionally inept men who look like they are eternally constipated. He can see the traces of exasperation in Oscar's shoulders.
"Follow me, then," he tells them both, and turns around, headed to the back of the auction rooms. There's security there, but Oscar only shows them some kind of a badge, and they step aside, letting the three of them through. As far as Jason knows, no FBI or CIA agents should have that kind of clearance.
Which finally prompts him to ask the most important question as soon as the doors behind them close and it's only them three going through an empty hallway.
"Who are you?" He asks Jazz, who is still keeping her hand on his elbow. The girl hums, not looking at him, and keeps walking after Oscar.
"Jasmine Fenton," she answers, and, yes, he knows that much. He's seen the files Bruce has on her, but at this point, he is not even sure how much of the info in there was actually true.
"You are in the presence of Jasmine Fenton, Lady of the House Phantom, Princess of Infinite Realms and sister to a King," Oscar supplies, and his voice is... a bit petty. Like he knows Jazz didn't want him to say anything, but he still did just because he could.
Jazz huffs and rolls her eyes, "Yes, that, too."
Jason blinks.
He's heard about Infinite Realms. Mostly rumors through the grapevine of Leaguers, but also from Diana personally - he remembers her saying she is glad about having a truce with them. He didn't listen much since she explained it as the Underworld, the Land of the Dead, so he thought she was talking about some mythology shit. Turns out it wasn't.
But there's a more important thing.
"I'm dating a princess," he says to no one in particular as they come to a stop in front of one of the doors.
"Technically, you'll be treated as my consort if you ever decide to visit," Jazz admits, and Jason is officially out of surprised responses. There's only a limited amount of bafflement he can feel in a day, and he has exhausted the resources.
He is a royal consort of the Underworld princess. Sure, why not.
The room they step into after Oscar puts in some code into the lock is filled with boxes, packages, and crates. Jason looks around - sure, he knew all the prettily displayed artifacts back in the auction room were only replicas, but he didn't expect the originals to be literally just stacked in piles in the back room. Yet, here they are.
Oscar looks around the room and confidently makes his way to one of the shelves on the side, quickly going through the labels on the containers.
"Do you have, like, a crown?" Jason asks because he sucks at small talk. Also because he doesn't know what else he is supposed to ask in this kind of situation. Jazz snorts and leans to him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Not really. Danny has one, and it looks absolutely badass, with flames on top of it, like the ones you would see in cartoons. I have some tiaras and stuff, but they are just jewelry," she explains, and Jason nods sagely. Just jewelry, alright. Seems like he is simply destined to be surrounded by rich people from all sides.
"How about a castle?"
This gets a sigh out of Jazz, "We used Pariah's - that's the previous King - old one for the coronation ceremony, but mostly, it's just for storage. Both Danny and I live on Earth, and Dani, our little sister, travels a lot. So, I do, and I don't at the same time."
"What about-" Jason starts, but he is cut off by Oscar all but shoving a small box in his hands, "Oh. Do I-" he turns to his girlfriend awkwardly, "Do I have to pay you for it or..."
"No, it's from a dead civilization," she raises her head back and shakes it slightly, but after seeing Jason's frown, she elaborates, "I'm the Princess of the Dead. I can officially claim anything that belongs to the dead as mine."
"It's a law that is supposed to resolve any possible conflicts between the denizens of Infinite Realms and the living," Oscar supplies, his voice disapproving. Alright, makes sense why he said it was not for personal matters, then. Not that it's going to stop Jason, though.
"Like, anything?" He punctuates, and Jazz tilts her head, a sly smile on her lips.
"Sure."
"Lady Phantom," Oscar sighs, tired and chastising, but Jason doesn't plan on robbing the auction. At least not robbing it any more than they already did.
He has a different idea.
"Can you ask Batman for the Robin's suit he has in his cave?"
Jazz blinks, and then her smile turns into a full-on grin.
"Of course."
------------
@akuworld777
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veren-cos · 6 months ago
Text
Bachelors (sdv) x reader on their period
Gender neutral, but purely because of the prompt, afab reader. I'd say everything I write is gender neutral besides the very rare Trans masc reader ☆
Not proofread and I wrote this in like 25 min- I'll update this when I'm less tired.
Harvey
• A literal doctor.
• Is not weirded out like at all. He is all like, "Oh okay! Do you need anything at all?" And moved on with life
• Maybe has a little blush when you first talk about it? It's a completely normal thing at work (and in life), but it's just because it's you that he wants to make sure he handles it well.
• Would probably get you chocolate. And a heating pad. And blankets. And all the things.
• Aka would just spoil you a bit more than normal, periods suck and he knows-
• If you had any like disorder involving you Period he would be extra on top of stuff.
• Will make sure you are well stocked on and properly take pain meds!
Elliott
• Would just absolutely spoil you!
• Runs a bath, gets chocolate, threw your pajamas in the dryer to get them extra warm, heating pad.
• Might give you a massage if they are super painful? Probably would do it regardless but he would definitely offer if he knew that got bad.
• Idk why he knows so much, maybe it's because of Leah? I don't really write about the bachelotettes, but I feel like she would be super open about it so that's why Elliott knows a lot.
• But yeah he'd be super good to you! Would make you food just because. He is great at spoiling people, but not actually great at knowing what to do physically haha. (I think I mentioned in a previous fic where he just makes you soup if your in pain, he would do that here too)
Shane
• So if I just take Shane as a standalone character I don't think he'd know a lot / want to know/ care.
• But!
• Jas. I'm not sure what age she is supposed to be (literally anywhere from 7-12 imo) but I feel like Shane would have read up on Period stuff in preparation.
• So he would actually be more informed than Elliott!
• Now onto the actual stuff lol-
• He wouldn't be super pamper-y like Elliott and Harvey, but he would definitely help around the house more.
• Animals are all taken care of, crops are all watered, took care of some weeds, etc.
• He would also probably be a bit more physically affectionate purely because he knows you like it.
• Might be a bit embarrassed about it at first but after the first one he gets the gist of what to do.
Alex
• Would be relatively informed just because he is a health nut, but also doesn't know what to do because the most important woman in his life is postmenopausal-
• Probably would just give you chocolate and hugs because he knows like. Emotional and cravings.
• If they were super bad he would ask his grandma for help!
• Wouldn't be embarrassed about it! Once again. Health nut. Gets you pain meds!
Sebastian
• Okay. So. Sebastian.
• Literally lives with 2 ladies. Both very strong confident women. He wouldn't be uninformed by any means, but he probably is still awkward around the topic lmao
• Like if you were complaining he would be like "...." "am I supposed to do something about that?"
• AND HE DIDNT MEAN IT IN A RUDE WAY he was genuinely asking. But he just doesn't know and also is an awkward guy?
• Would do the least out of all the Bachelor's. Maybe just be more emotionally available because Period mood swings be rough. Makes more time to talk about things with you.
• Grabs you ibuprofen or Tylenol, whatever you have in the house.
Sam
• So Sam lives with a kind of coddling mom, does not have sisters, so like. His mom wouldn't talk to him about it. He has no 'personal' experience with it.
• Would be the most clueless-
• But he would definitely be like, "oh babe that sucks let me know what I can do"
• Gives you more cuddles, helps on the farm.
• Super enthusiastic about making you comfortable! He makes it into a way bigger deal than it is but he is genuinely curious about stuff so you think it's cute.
• After your first one when your together he is much better prepared / informed so he isn't all over the place.
• Just very cute and well meaning.
An* I hope this was at least a little cute / silly / comforting / whateveryouwantedoutofthis! I base everything off of personal experience because, like, it's all I got- but more people should be comfortable talking about this! It's completely normal and just a basic human function. So if yours is different than what others describe, that's okay! If yours is exactly the same, also okay! Idk where I'm going with this, but there is no shame in having a period, and that's on that!
This also came off way more dramatic than I meant it to be, but I live for the drama so it's okay (this applies to both the fic and the author's note-)
Masterlist
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